#like yeah hes a snob but he fucking loves wine so much. he loves talking about his wine. i love it. also italian solidarity

[clannfearrunt]

so very sleepytired and i was also very sleepytired last night when i watched it but i think the wine guy episode is my absolute favorite columbo episode so far, always really good when the murder victim appears on screen for 2 seconds and you are already cheering for his death. fuck yeah kill that bitch lol. officer i think it’s good that he died. and the killer, the Wine Guy, man he fucking loves wine so much. I love that for him. I also love wine now. yeah man i think the guy died in a scuba diving accident can we put the investigation on hold I just want to watch the Wine Guy and Columbo talk about wine for another hour. also enjoyed seeing Columbo having to phone the weather bureau to find out last week’s weather, enjoying seeing that piece of like history and such. really good. there were a lot of expensive wines. $5000? I don’t have the energy to adjust that for inflation. I bet that’s so fucking much now. scary. really loved how Columbo started with 0 wine knowledge and gradually becomes way way more knowledgeable. felt sad about Wine Guy’s collection having been ruined by the heat and watching him throw it out was sad but his ride to the police station was actually great, I loved that Columbo brought him a bottle of wine and I loved that Wine Guy was genuinely impressed with how much he’d learned about wine and their last toast together was good and having the last view of Wine Guy being that of him happily drinking a nice wine was a great end to the episode. surprisingly chill episode of murder crime mystery, enjoyed every second of it. officer I think he should nto be guilty because the bitch deserved it

[thunderheadfred]

🐈‍Aizawa HC’s🐈‍

I dunno if people will care for this; I suspect my HC's for Aizawa are a little off the fandom norm. Still. I tried. Things get approximately NSFW under the cut. Minors do not interact.

- - - - -

General

He has like, one discernible change of clothes per season. There is no distinction between hero outfit, casual wear, and pajamas. That fabric used to be black. It is now an exhausted shade of ‘please stop washing me.’ If you suggest that he buy new clothes, he will stare you down like you have three heads, and none of those heads have a brain.

This man does not spend money. He has a mind-blowing amount of savings, but no one will ever know until he dies and wills it all to a random animal shelter in the middle of nowhere. Has a secret scholarship fund for UA students. Again, this is completely anonymous. Only the principal knows.

He's a startlingly competent sketch artist. Nothing fancy, and he never took an art class in his life, but his quirk innately lends itself to spacial reasoning and feature recognition. He has sketch books brimming with sloppy but pin-point accurate life drawings. He can capture your soul in three strokes of a dried-up ballpoint pen. It's eerie.

Given his schedule, you’d expect him to prioritze convenience first, but junk food makes him cross-eyed. His body is a temple and he eats like a fucking monk.

He’s a wine snob. Well, a liquor snob generally. He knows the name of every regional sake-maker in Japan, and can tell you exactly which bottle is the best, down the the month of production. Assumes everyone possesses such laser-focused knowledge.

Tea drinker. Yeah, he has encyclopedic knowledge about that too. Apparently everything this man drinks comes with a bibliography.

Technically he’s supposed to live in the UA dorms part of the time. He sleeps poorly there, and goes home whenever he has the opportunity.

His house is old, but not valuable. Probably inherited. Traditional style with very few modern updates. He keeps it meticulously clean and does repairs as needed, but the age is still obvious. Everything creaks. You swear the place is haunted but won’t dare admit it aloud - he WILL laugh you out of the house.

There’s a garden but he doesn’t have time to keep it up. He has a lot of memories of the plants in full bloom. Letting it go to seed upsets him more than he lets on.

He has zero personal possessions aside from household appliances, which he meticulously researches and keeps in perfect condition.

Reads an insane amount of books. These mostly come from the library. There’s always a stack near his bed. You have no idea how he finishes them, because every time you see him with a book, he’s asleep with it on his face.

He doesn’t adopt cats so much as just leaves his doors open and lets them freely colonize the place. It’s not his house, it’s theirs. Somehow there's not a single cat hair on anything.

Most of these cats are cuddly little angels; you've never met nicer. But there’s a few beasts in the mix, with battle scars and three legs and a craving for human meat; these are Aizawa’s special favorites.

- - - - -

Dating

Falls for you when he stumbles across you taking care of one of the hideous strays he usually feeds on his route. Doesn’t approach you at first (definitely tries to hide) but the cat is like "mrrr?" and brings you over to him, giving the game away. Traitor.

Will make you pay for your half of everything, down to the last yen. So what if you’ve been together for ten years? You have your own income.

One exception to the above: he’ll never buy you presents but he WILL treat you to lavish meals in dark restaurants with hand-written menus. Don’t mistake this for romance, he just likes the quiet atmosphere and excellent service.

He cleans every day; there’s an unwritten five-dimensional schedule and that schedule is EXACT. Zero time wasted. He’ll never actually ask you to help with any of it. He’ll never directly thank you, either. But if you learn how to take over certain chores and do the daily upkeep while he’s away, he’ll love you forever.

Not the type to talk about his day; he’d rather sit with you outside. He values silence. Not because he doesn’t want to talk to you, but a lot of the time he doesn’t have the energy to give you his full conversational attention. Physical contact is easier, and more comforting besides. Just... hold his hand a while.

His scalp gets tingly and sore from overusing his quirk. If you run your fingers through his hair he will pass out instantly.

He will cozy trap you. He’s touch-starved and was definitely a cat in a past life. Will hang all over you if you don't give him enough attention and constantly falls sleep in your lap. Hope you don’t need to get up anytime soon; he’s not moving.

You don’t exactly ‘move in’ with him. He never wants to spend a night without you, but his living space is already exactly how he likes it. He will never move out of that old house, but he’ll give you some rooms to yourself. Your stuff and his... complete absence of stuff... stay pretty much separate. Do NOT clutter up the bedroom.

The kitchen is the exception. That's a warm and cozy shared spot, the heart of the home. You’ll always be stepping around a cat.

He LOVES when you cook for him (so that he doesn't have to take the time). Will shower you with praise and encourage you to make huge earthenware vats of old-timey tsukemono that the two of you cannot possibly eat by yourselves. He’ll help with food prep and knows his way around, but he insists you’re the better cook (even if you aren’t).

Big on actions over words. Makes an effort to be present with you as much as he can.

Will stare into your eyes until you look away. When you look back, he's still staring with a rare warm smile on his face.

God, he loves you. You will never, ever know how much. He doesn't tell you often, but he shows you every day.

- - - - -

Somnophilia???.........

ACE ACE ACE ACE

This man is A-fucking-sexual. He’s not sex repulsed in any way, he’s just not personally invested.

Aromantic too. Deadass doesn’t get the hype. You are the most important person in his life and he’s deeply commited to and comforted by you. Just don’t expect to be seduced; it will literally never happen.

If you are allosexual, he will still be devoted to your sexual well-being. At first, that means buying you a DELUXE toy and encouraging you to use it on your own.

His voice is too damn sexy, even when he isn’t trying. He’ll give you all the phone sex you want; he thinks it’s sweet how you unravel for him. Edging you for ages is a fun little power play, but he’s definitely grading papers while he does it. Don’t be offended. Toshinori has overheard some THINGS.

When your relationship gets sufficiently serious, he’ll help out with his hands. He’s VERY SKILLED AT IT. He likes to lay down next to you and whisper encouragement in your ear. Eventually he gets possessive about your orgasms, and will make you ask for permission.

Sometimes the stars align, but his arousal is a rare bird. He'll take a whole afternoon to prepare. It’s love-making, full stop. Always slow and intensely emotional. He'll cherish every inch of you but might not cum at all; you can’t force it.

[spinster-sisters]

ohh okay! so to kick it off, can we get ateez members’ reactions to their very successful partner taking them to a company party like their trophy wife/husband/partner — not in a derogatory way tho!! but just like,, flaunting the members around and going on about how handsome and hardworking and amazing they are, even though everyone’s attention should be on their partner in that big event?

This is very different from the stuff I normally write but honestly I had so much fucking fun doing it. Like genuinely this made me smile like an idiot the whole time.

-

Hongjoong:

It's ur birthday or sum shit, but here's the dealio, he had some big work promotion at some smaller company. Most people haven't heard of it and it's nothing like the major corporation you work for so most people there just think of him as your trophy husband cuz he's so good-looking. while the party and presents were for you, you just could stop bring up how proud you were of him. He would immediately shut it down every time you brought it up, "yeah thank baby, I appreciate it. Hey, guys don't you think my baby is beautiful tonight?" Just won't let it distract from your attention no matter how much you bring it up. He doesn't think that he should be praised for doing what he should be doing. It's a nice sentiment and it makes him giggle but he wishes you would just let the guests congratulate you.

Seonghwa:

It's some work party on your behalf at your home. And Seonghwa planned the whole thing. Your not gonna deny you were just looking for a hot husband with social perks (read: rich parents and rich friends) but after meeting Seonghwa you genuinely fell so hard and so fast for how humble he was despite his wealthy upbringing, and you wanted to work even harder to provide him with the lifestyle he had always had at home. And he is happy to fulfill his house husband role for his doting partner. So yall are just happy and in love. Everyone at the party is your coworker and honestly, he would probably have just been your arm candy under any other circumstances, except you keep reminding people how great of a job he did getting everything set up. From a 5-star catering company to a live band, to imported wine from somewhere fancy, the whole thing took him weeks to put together and you will be dammed if he doesn't get the recognition for a job well done. He takes the praise blushing and mumbles quiet thank yous to all you and all guests who praise him, but he leaves it at that. If they ask him questions about the things around him he will keep his answers short and minimal yet polite before slipping away. Despite planning it, it isn't his party and he wants to keep it that way.

Yunho:

it's actually your friend's launch party for something or other. But you had a fair amount to do with the starting of the company as an investor and your friend had wanted to honor you as much as her. But here's the thing. Yunho's also pretty fucking cool, he doesn't have a permanent job, instead, he bounces around to all kinds of random things to keep himself entertained instead of just being at home all the time. the entire fucking time you're like "oh but have you heard what Yunho's been up to lately." He tries to one-up you with praise. Every time you say something cool he does, he brings up something cool you have done. And it just gets more and more intense as the night goes on to the point where the other giggles just fucking giggle cuz yall are so obvious in love.

Yeosang:

Yalls wedding is gonna be the social event of the year. You both come from very prominent families, but Yeosangs family got their money from fame not business. So when yall got engaged there was quite a bit of gossip about how "real" the relationship even was. Who the "throphy" was would change based on who you asked and it was getting annoying reading all the headlines. It was your wedding shower, and it was no secret that most of the people there were there for you and not him, but he couldn't care less. People kept coming up to you trying to talk business, and you were endlessly shutting them down because this was a day for both you and your soon to be husband, not for social climbers to try and get on your good side. The wonderful thing about Yeosang however is how much he can read you emotions even when you are trying to hide them. His course of action was simple. You both just fucking leave. You both had already talked to your actual friends and at a certain point you couldn't be bothered to keep up appearances with people who didn't respect both of you equally. So you left. Probably went and got some food in your cocktail attire. Much better use of time anyway.

San:

You're some kind of model or something. So it's like fashion week. So the whole time u have cameras shoved in your face and are being followed everywhere you go. But ur mans San is also incredibly beautiful, so you play a little game where whenever you go out all you do is put on sweats and a hoodie and you bring him out with him dressed in full fashion week regalia so the photographers are fucking confused who they are supposed to be taking pictures of. He thinks it's funny ao he plays along, wearing whatever you put him in and posing dramatically for literally every photo he can. You two go through the posted photos absolutely howling at them all night.

Mingi:

Your some big-time producer and Mingi is this like an underground rapper. Yall have been together long before you ever made it big and back before you got the job you lived almost exclusively off Mingi's part-timejob. But now the turntables have flipped and he can live mostly of your income allowing him to focus on his music and yall wouldn't have it any other way. But here's the shit. Some dopey fucking pop star you produce for comes over for dinner and makes a "joke" about mingi being a freeloader and you get so fucking petty. Especially after seeing Mingi's dejected face. So basically you help mingi produce a professional track and release it legitimately and not just on SoundCloud or in some shitty nightclub, and it fucking blows up way more than the other person music ever did and you just do nothing but talk up how amazingly talented Mingi is to your boss and he gets signed after the other person is dropped from the label. It's a great time.

Wooyoung:

Allow me to paint you a picture(this is a pun just wait for it.) Your an artist 😃 and Wooyoung is your husband and your muse. Almost everything you paint is either of him or reminds you of him. And your opening this big art exhibit and it's just this super fancy cocktail party with all the art snobs in the city and of course you bring him. As soon as yall walk in people immediately notice he's the guy in all the paintings and you're just like "yes isn't he stunning" and he's like "yes I am stunning" he's only half kidding. Whenever you go on and on to some art blogger about your muse he just sits there drinking it in with a smirk on his face, occasionally adding things like how you owe your success to his beautiful face. In that case, he's completely kidding cuz he knows damn well your talented enough to make anything beautiful with or without him.

Jongho:

ima say you married rich. You didn't have much growing up but Jongho has done nothing but spoil you. Despite the fact he came from a big business family, singing has always been his passion. When you begin to work in his father's company you rise through the ranks alarmingly quick due to your skill. It's some party for your father in laws retirement and everyone coming up to you betting your gonna be the next CEO. Here the thing though, Jongho left the company not long after you joined, so he could pursue singing and most people there haven't seen him since then and they keep giving him side-eyes, clearly thinking he threw his life away and he's just gonna be your "trophy husband" for the rest of his life. Not on your watch homie. You expected this so you and your supper supportive father-in-law set aside time for him to perform to the whole room and you're standing there all proud and satisfied as all your coworkers are dumbfounded at his amazing talent.

[woodrokiro]

Bar Service (fic)

Fandom: Bleach

Characters/Pairing: IchiRuki

Summary: Bartenders--especially bartenders around the corner from her apartment--are strictly off limits. Restaurant AU. Written for @ichirukimonth . TW warning for mentioned child abuse. 

She doesn’t think much of the restaurant a few blocks away from her new apartment.

She always passes it to and from her work commute, of course. Maybe from time to time she glanced over, musing how it looks cute enough--a great place to take a date or some friends....

Before Rukia remembers: 1. She doesn’t have the time or capacity to date, and 2. She has no friends here yet… And probably won’t for a while, considering her lifelong difficulty making them in the first place. 

It’s fine by her, honestly. She likes throwing everything she has into her job, loves doing her best to earn a smile or laugh from her patients. That’s enough social interaction for her, and at the end of the day she can go home, pour a glass of wine, switch the television on to some silly drama and order takeout without mourning the “loss” of a Friday night.

So for the first few months that she’s living in Karakura: no. She doesn’t even think about stepping foot in Amore e Morte. 

Until she gets a particularly bad case at work. 

The fact that it was a foster child case alone makes her heart hurt--but of course, there’s always more with these sort of situations. 

A little girl named Hina, aged eight but looking so much smaller waiting there in her office. The social worker sitting with her--a woman named Rangiku, who Rukia knows a little and actually quite likes--squeezes Hina’s tiny hand before pulling Rukia to the side, quietly explaining the situation. 

Physical abuse from her former home where she had been for a year. Her teacher kept noticing bruises in odd places and finally called CPS, who did nothing for two months before the behavior escalated and Hina ended up in the ER.

Her new foster mom is a real nice lady, says she hasn’t been acting out or anything but… Rangiku shrugs, flashing a reassuring smile when the little girl looks their way. You know. 

She knows. 

So Rukia does what she does best: she goes to the little girl, introduces herself by her first name, and focuses on her work until she can sob angrily in her car at lunch break. 

And when her workday is done, when her emotions are fried and she’d really like a drink or three anywhere but her lonely apartment--she sees the restaurant’s sign, glowing warmly in the dusk light. 

Amore e Morte. Love and death. A weird name for a restaurant, she thinks, and wonders if the owners either don’t know Italian and thought the name was cool or are just uppity snobs. 

If you’d stop being so cynical you might go out and actually enjoy life. She can practically hear Renji’s voice scoffing in her ear now.

She parks her car at home before walking back over to the restaurant.

--

The outside of the restaurant is nice enough, but the inside is… Well. Lovely.

Brick walls painted white make the entire place look minimalist yet cozy. A couple of trendy paintings hanging sparsely through the restaurant makes the environment chic, but not overbearing. A few hanging lanterns bring just enough light to let everyone see where they’re going, but otherwise candles are utilized at each of the tables for a romantic touch.

Rukia sees by the sheer number of couples there that it is indeed a good place to bring a date.

And by the looks of one dish smelling deliciously of chicken and bell peppers that passes her by in a waiter’s hand, the food isn’t too bad either. Rukia’s mouth waters. 

“A table for one, miss?” 

Rukia startles from her musings, feeling rather silly as the bright and cheery hostess smiles patiently back. 

“Oh! No, I don’t think that’s necessary. I wouldn’t want to take up one of your tables. Do you have bar seating?”

“Of course! Right this way.” 

The hostess leads her into an adjacent room that sits tucked away from the main dining room. There’s still a couple of tables in this room, and two of the eight bar stools are occupied but it’s so much quieter here, the noise of the dining room a mere buzz. She breathes a small sigh of relief as she takes the stool at the far end. She wanted to be out and about, just… Not that out and about.

“Our bartender Kurosaki-kun will be taking care of you. I believe he’s just in the back talking to Chef, he should be right back.”

Rukia thanks her, taking a glance at the menu. 

She quickly finds out Chef Yasutora Sado’s menu inspiration is Mexican-Japanese fusion cuisine, which is… Interesting, considering the restaurant’s name is Italian. In any case, she’s fascinated. Rukia by no account considers herself a foodie, but the thought of blending traditional Japanese dishes with Mexican spices and turning them into something like sukiyaki tacos makes her stomach growl. 

“Can I get you something other than water to drink?”

Her gaze flickers from the menu to the well-toned arm extended out toward her, pouring a glass of water. Her eyes move up the arm to the man it’s attached to. 

A handsome guy, she’ll admit: if it wasn’t for the obviously bleached orange hair, the sword tattoo on his forearm peeking out from under his rolled sleeve, and the fact that he looked like he wanted to be literally anywhere else.

If she had to pick him out from a crowd, there’s no doubt she’d know him as a bartender. What a walking cliche. 

“Yes, I’ll take--” She didn’t even take a glance at the drink menu. She looks down quickly. “Sorry. Can I get a matcha mojito?” 

He nods, his hands suddenly flying through liquors and shakers and mixes to make her drink. “You ready for food, too?” 

“Any recommendations?” 

“Everything.”

She snorts. She’d be irritated by the subpar service if it wasn’t for his small smirk at her response. 

“Seriously, everything’s good here. If you get something you don’t like, drinks are on me.”

“Risky.” Rukia lifted an eyebrow. “You place that bet with every customer?”

“Every single one.” 

She highly doubts that, but she appreciates the trust in his workplace nonetheless. She orders a couple of small plates, and he tends to his other drink orders while she sips her own. 

The food, when it comes out, is… Infuriatingly good. Infuriating because she would have loved to have scored a couple free drinks off the arrogant punk bartender, but she’ll have to swallow her pride because the sukiyaki taco is absolute divinity. She sips her second drink, already accepting that she’s gonna have to admit to him she’ll be paying full price for everything she ordered.

Unfortunately, it doesn’t look like she’ll have a chance to gloat. From what she hears next door, dinner service has picked up and with that: drink orders. He’s doing as well as he can--hands expertly flying through the liquors, garnishing the cocktails with an expert flourish before passing them on to a server--but she can tell he’s feeling the stress, particularly when he reads his second to last ticket in the rush.

“Fuck,” she hears as he rolls his eyes, stalking over to the wine cabinet. A server comes by, concerned. 

“You need anything, Ichigo?”

He waves a hand, not turning to look at his coworker. “No, no I’m fine. Just annoying when I don't open a bottle before rush, that’s all.”

The server scuttles off to tend to her tables while Rukia watches him bang a (very expensive looking) wine bottle on the counter, clumsily ripping into the foil with an opener. At one point he cuts his thumb, and he half-hazardly wraps a paper napkin around it while he tries helplessly to pull the cork up. The wine opener doesn’t grip the bottle steadily a couple of times, she waits on baited breath to see if he’ll break the bottle. After a few dangerous-looking test runs, he manages to hoist the cork up, cursing out a “fucking finally” at the sound of the cork popping.

The whole thing must have taken ten minutes.

Maybe it’s the matcha mojitos finally hitting her, but she can’t help it. She laughs. 

He shoots her a wild look and she covers her chuckles with the back of her hand. 

“Sorry, sorry! I’m not--it’s not funny. I just… That was the most atrocious opening of a wine bottle I’ve ever seen.”

Ichigo stares for a moment before scoffing, turning back to his (finally opened) bottle and pours the wine into a glass. “Yeah, well… I don’t do wine service here, lady.”

“Excuse me? That’s ridiculous. You’re a bartender.”

“Exactly. Bartender. I do cocktails, not fancy wine stuff.”

“Let me guess, you consider yourself a mixologist.”

“Don’t ever call me that. Ever.” He’s shaking his head as he moves on to his next order, but oddly enough Rukia feels like she knows he’s suddenly having a good time. “Like I said, I don’t do wine etiquette and all that. That’s for the servers.”

“I’m just… It’s hard to believe you’ve made it this far in a nicer restaurant’s bar without knowing how to open wine.”

“Not that far. I’ve been here for like, six months.” He shrugs at her inquisitive stare. “Old buddies with the chef. I bar backed in college where he was a line cook, so… And if he ever got sick of me, my sister is his sous chef. Then again, she’s more likely to fire me than he is, the brat.”

“Especially with you not knowing how to open a fine vintage.”

“Get over it. When it’s not busy I get one of the servers to help me.” He looks down, having seemingly forgotten about his paper toweled thumb. “Shit. Hang on, I gotta get a bandaid from the back--”

“I have some, if you want.” Rukia starts digging through her purse. “If there’s not some restaurant code for the kind of bandage you’re supposed to use, of course.”

“If it looks neater than a shoddy paper towel job, ‘should be fine. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. Here.” 

He stares at her outstretched hand. She stares back, getting more irritated as she waits. 

“What?”

“... It’s a Chappy bandaid.”

“So?”

“So why are you a grown ass woman carrying around Chappy bandaids?” 

“They’re for my patients, for kids.” She’s telling the truth, technically. To say she also quite enjoys Chappy as a character does not need to be mentioned. “Do you want it or not? Swallow your manly pride or go looking for an ugly beige bandage while your tickets pile up again. Tick tock.”

“Fine! All right, already.” He takes the bandaid and starts unpeeling the paper adhesive. “You a pediatrician or something?” 

“Child psychologist.” Suddenly Rukia remembers Hina’s sweet face and feels terrible for not thinking about her once this entire dinner. 

“Jesus.” Ichigo’s shaking his head, pressing Chappy to his cut.

“What is that supposed to mean?” 

Maybe it’s the alcohol, maybe it’s the guilt, maybe it’s the fact that it’s such a weird response to her revealing her profession, but Rukia can’t help it. She narrows her eyes and crosses her arms.

If he’s uncomfortable with her sudden hostility, he doesn’t show it. He shrugs. “It’s just… I can imagine it’s a hard job. Sometimes, anyway.” 

Oh. 

“Oh,” she exhales. “I’m sorry, I--yes. It can be, yes.I just… That sort of response I’ve only ever gotten from people that don’t believe in the importance of mental health. ‘Shrink talk’ and what have you.”

“Nah, I believe it.” He’s finished his job of covering his wound and moved on to his next drink order. 

She’s abashedly stirring the ice in her glass when she barely hears him say: “I had to go to a children’s therapist once, as a kid. Helped me a lot.”

She raises her head to look at him. He hasn’t changed his facial expression, nor is there any change to his body language as he continues to do his job--but as a psychologist, Rukia can’t help but wonder whether she’s the first person he’s ever told this to. 

“Me too. When I was a child, I… A therapist had helped me, too.” She raises her glass and clears her throat. “To recognizing childhood trauma, I suppose.”

He lets out a short laugh at the sudden dark joke, a sound so quick and so… So nice she can’t stop the fleeting thought that it’s a sound she’d like to hear more of. She shoves it away. 

Bartenders are absolutely off limits. 

He raises the glass that he’s mixing a cocktail in. “Yeah. Cheers.”

--

Later when she finally picks up the check, she pauses.

“Excuse me.” She waves Ichigo down, maybe just a tad tipsy. “You got the check wrong.”

He frowns, taking the bill from her and scanning it. “What are you…”

“You forgot to put a drink on there. My third one.”

It clicks and he rolls his eyes. “Oh my god.”

“What? I’m being honest.”

“It’s on me.” He slides the receipt back to her. 

“But I didn’t dislike any of the dishes!”

“Take some advice, will you Doc? If the restaurant staff didn’t put something on your bill and you still got it, chances are: we wanted to give it to you.” They lock eyes for an intense moment before he clears his throat, looks down to wipe his (suspiciously clean) bar. “‘To childhood trauma,’ and all that. Now stop yapping so loud about it. You want everyone in the restaurant to hear about me giving out free stuff?”

She shuts her mouth at that, but one small detail about what he said is bothering her.

“It’s not ‘Doc,’ so you know. I have a name. It’s Rukia. Rukia Kuchiki.”

“Okay. Whatever, Rukia.” He turns around and waves his hand. “And I’m Ichigo. Just pay your damn bill and come back soon or whatever.”

And with that: she guesses she has a new spot.

[villainousshakespeare]

Putting it Back Together Chapter 3

Chapter 1, Chapter 2

Adam/OFC

Rated M (will probably change to E) - Grief, angst, eventual smut, mention of characters dead before the start of the story, blood, slow burn

Summary: Since the death of his beloved Eve, Adam had been barely living, only alive due to a promise he made to her. Then one night he meets his new neighbor, a woman dealing with grief of her own. Will they help each other heal or drive each other crazy?

@yespolkadotkitty @just-the-hiddles @hopelessromanticspoonie @wine-and-whines @arch-venus25 @caffiend-queen @devilish–doll @enchantedbyhiddles @hiddlesholic @i-do-not-fangirl-i-fanwoman @kellatron55 @ladyoftheteaandblood @latent-thoughts @gorgeous1974 @maryxglz @myoxisbroken @nuggsmum @nildespirandum @pedeka @redfoxwritesstuff @sinfully-lustful-darling @vodka-and-some-sass @wrathkitty @kingtwhiddleston @wolfsmom1​ @poetic-fiasco​ @shiningloki​ @dangertoozmanykids101​ @bookworm-christina​ @thecutestlittlebunbunfairy​ @amwolowicz​ @delightfulheartdream​ @frostbitten-written​ @what-a-flammable-heart​ @tom-hlover​ @nonsensicalobsessions​ @myraiswack​

For six nights Lilly didn't hear so much as a note of music coming through her walls. Were it not for the occasional banging sounds of large something or others being moved about, she might have thought her surly neighbor had relocated to get away from her. More likely, she realized, was that he had put on head phones to keep her prying ears from his precious compositions.

That being the case, Lilly did her best (which in all honesty was lousy) to put him out of her mind and get on with her life. She continued her late night foraging through her grandmother's belongings, pausing at regular intervals to sob when some unexpected jogger of memory was discovered. By the time she had worked her way through the main bedroom, where she happened upon a collection of love letters that Gran and her ill fated fiancé, Lilly's Grandfather though she had never met him, had written during WWII, she was surprised that she had any tears left. No wonder Grandma Lillian had never married, when she had found and lost such a great love while still in her college years. The paper was well worn, and Lilly could just imagine the older woman returning to read them again and again.

Less romantic but no less special was a photo Lilly found where it had fallen behind a bureau. The picture showed Grandma Lillian, glamorously beautiful in a long, sleek sheath dress and beads, singing on stage in front of a three piece jazz combo. Lilly smiled, naming each of the musicians in turn. The original band had long since gone their own ways professionally, but they had remained close friends regardless. The drummer had taken his savings and invested in a small blues and jazz club not far from here. Grandma Lillian had stopped in their on a regular basis to belt out a tune or two, always to great applause. Lilly's nights there, originally under age and smuggled in, were some of her favorites.

Impulsively, Lilly sprang to her feet. There was no reason she had to stay stuck inside all of the time. Gran would want her to get out and savor life; beyond a doubt she had always done so. Rummaging through her belongings she managed to find a simple black skirt and a red top that she had always liked. She brushed out her long hair with defrizzer until she could tolerate the way it looked billowing around her and applied a touch of lipstick and eye makeup to make her look "less like the walking dead" as Gran would have said. All and all she didn't look half bad. Throwing on a wool coat and pair of boots and putting the photo lovingly in one of about seventy gift bags she had found squirreled away earlier, Lilly made her way out into the cool night air.

It was after eleven, late to be heading out but still relatively early for a Friday in the city. A drifting of clouds obscured and showed the moon at intervals, adding occasional light to the dim streets with their burnt out lights. She would be out of the residential blocks soon and into the more bright and crowded nightlife that teemed nearby.

"It's not wise to be out alone at this hour," a low voice spoke in her ear as a hand descended to her shoulder.

Lillian let out a scream and turned around, bottle of pepper spray pulled from her pocket ready to douse her attacker. Before she could press the button the bottle was knocked from her hand to roll down the street as her wrist was locked in the tight grip of a large, leather encased hand.

"Don't," her assailant said calmly.

Looking up, far up, she confronted a pail face beneath a shock of wild, dark black hair, eyes obscured by sunglasses despite the lateness of the hour.

"Sorry if I frightened you," her neighbor said with a slight smirk, taking off the ridiculous glasses.

How had she not recognized that sinful purr of a voice? She heard it often enough in her fantasies.

"I wasn't frightened," she lied automatically, only to add as he continued to stair at her "well, maybe startled."

"Just imagine if I had been someone else. It might not have been so pleasant."

"Yes, because you are the soul of congeniality," she sniped back.

Slowly Lilly's heart beat was returning to normal, or at any rate as normal as it was like to get with him still holding her wrist. She startled easily at the best of times, and in a dark side street when by herself was far from optimal. He seemed to realize this, and was obnoxiously amused by it. Lilly did her best to glare at him, only too aware that she most likely looked like a little yippy dog.

"Fair enough," he agreed, finally letting go of her hand. "My point still stands though. It's not safe out here. All kinds lurking about."

"Monsters waiting to kill me and gobble me up?" she quipped lamely.

"You'd be surprised."

Bending down, he retrieved her pepper spray from where it lay on the street. He examined it as though he wanted to take it apart and put it back together again.

"Not very well constructed," he said at last, surrendering it back to her. "You'd be more likely to spray yourself by accident? Have you?"

"No!" she said indignantly, putting it back in her bag.

He looked at her knowingly and a tell tale blush spread over her cheeks.

"I did spray a date once," she admitted. "In the back of a cab. I was looking for something else in my purse, I pulled it out, and it went off right in his face."

She could not be entirely sure, but she thought she might just detect the hint of a smile twitch his lips. Well, wonders would never cease!

"Dare I ask if there was a date number two?"

"There was not," she sighed, beginning to walk again in the direction she had been going as he fell in beside her. "As it turned out, he deserved the dousing, though I didn't know it at the time."

"Well then," he said, long stride forcing her to trot, "it was all for the best."

"I guess. He was a broker, had a ton of money but was still rude to the waiter and left a horrible tip. I slipped an extra twenty in while he was in the bathroom."

"Fucking zombies. You're right, he did deserve it."

Lilly walked in silence for a few moments, wondering what on earth was happening. He had never seemed to particularly like her, in fact he had all but run away the previous two times she had come into his presence. So what was he doing now, walking next to her and talking as though he might actually not wish to be anywhere else?

"Where were you going?" she asked when she couldn't stand it anymore.

"Out," he said, jus the one word again.

"Oh, I used to go there all the time!" she said, making her eyes go wide and vacant. "They have horrible service, but the atmosphere is to die for!"

"Sorry, I'm not used to...."

"Talking?" she supplied helpfully as his words trailed off.

"Yeah," he agreed, not seeming to take offense.

Lilly watched him out of the corner of her eye. He was so odd. Handsome beyond question, talented, and clearly intelligent. One would think he would be out with a different partner every night if he wanted. So why did he spend all his time alone in a rundown brownstone? Why was he so closed off? She loved and hated puzzles, and he was one just begging to be solved.

"Where were you going?" he turned the tables on her.

"A club down on Avenue A."

"Ah, going to do what passes as dancing these days?" he said with a curl of his lip. "Grind against someone mindlessly to tuneless music?"

"Well, aren't we the old snob," she mocked him. "No, as a matter of fact it's a music club. Jazz and blues mostly. Small acts, lots of musicians stopping in when home from a tour, that sort of thing. Nothing fancy, but it has character."

"Really?" his interest seemed to be captured as she described it to him.

"Do you want to come?" she asked, careful to keep her voice neutral while she willed him to say yes.

"I suppose it's better than anything else I have to do," he grimaced.

"Wow, thank you so much," she said, pulling a face.

"I... I told you, I'm not good at this. I don't get out much, or see people."

"It's okay," she told him, fighting an exciting flurry in her stomach. "That's the good thing about music, you can just listen."

"Yeah," he agreed, eyes curiously bright as he looked at her.

They walked in silence the rest of the way. Lilly was hyper aware of him next to her, towering over her diminutive height. She did find that she felt more safe with him beside her. Whenever they neared a group of people on the side walk one look at him was enough to move the loiterers scurrying out of their way. She also caught quite a few glances being thrown their way, particularly after he had walked by. He did have a noticeably nice rear view, she allowed. Scampering after him did have an upside she supposed.

They arrived at the club and Lilly smiled at the portly man sitting on the stool by the door. Sidling up behind him, she reached out and pulled his suspenders, allowing them to snap back into place. He spun around, face breaking out into a huge grin when he saw her. The next moment she was swept into a bear hug that left her breathless.

"Lotus blossom!" he grinned at her. "You're looking all grown up! Haven't seen you around here in years!"

"Not all of us are frozen in time, Q," she said with a laugh. "How long have you been wearing those suspenders?"

"Since you were first sweet talking me to let you in," he smiled back. "You and that Gran of yours. Get me in all kinds of trouble!"

"You found enough trouble all on your own."

"True that, but you always added just that extra dash. We were all sorry to here about Miss Lillian. She was a real special lady, and no mistake."

"Thanks," Lilly fought back tears as he swallowed a lump in her throat. "Is Ossie here tonight?"

"You know he'd never miss a Friday," Q rolled his eyes. "Who else would let him play besides his own bar."

"Thanks, Q. Talk to you later."

"This tall fella with you?" he looked her neighbor, once again sporting his sunglasses, up and down protectively.

"Yeah," she said, once again feeling that butterfly sensation.

"Well, alright then. You be nice to her, or big guy or not, I'll take you down."

Adam didn't dignify that with a comment, merely giving the doorman his usual stare.

"Tell the barkeep I'm buying your drinks tonight," Q added as they started in.

"Do you really want to do that?" she asked with a laugh. "You know how I am."

"Damn girl, just try not to bankrupt me," he chuckled.

Lilly laughed and walked into the dark club, sense memory falling over her like a warm blanket. Music, friendly faces, and a handsome man to escort her. What more could she ask for? She just hoped she could keep from saying or doing something stupid for the rest of the night.

***

Adam was convinced that his new neighbor destined to drive him to distraction.

It had never really occurred to him how thin the walls of his home were. If it had realized he would have never bought the damn place. Of course, until she had moved in it didn't really matter. The old woman who had been her Grandmother would never have been so gauche as to interfere in his composing. The granddaughter though...

And what galled Adam most of all was that she had been right. The minute her barked out suggestion came slamming into his creative space he knew that she was dead on. He played the piece, hoping against hope as he came to the end that her contribution would prove just as off as his useless attempts had been. And yet he knew before he struck the chord that it perfectly completed his work. It was humiliating!

After that he made sure to plug in his headphones before turning on his instruments. He didn't want to rude after all, he told himself. It had nothing to do with the streak of embarrassment he had felt at her correction. Adam just didn't want to intrude on her piece.

The way was she was intruding on his. He could hear her all the time. Moving furniture around, cooking in her kitchen, even, to his horror, running her shower. He tried not to think about what she might look like under a stream of hot water, body soapy as her hands slid along its curves. Tried to keep the memory of the taste of her out of his mouth as the vision sprang unbidden into his brain.

It was almost worse when he would hear her crying, which was often. Adam had avoided such open displays of emotion even when he was human. His own tears were only ever shed in private now that Eve was gone. Why then did he feel the urge to break through the walls separating them and wrap the girl once more in his protective embrace?

It must be because he had fed on her, he decided. It was only a few drops, true, but it had still managed to spark something within him. It was such an intimate act, drinking someone's blood. He should have just rinsed it down the drain and been done with it. But it was so sweet, so hot and delicious on his tongue, that would have seemed like a sacrilege.

He was so attuned to her puttering around next door that he was starting to track her movements through the house. It was therefore a start to his system when he heard her front door open and realized that she was going out. At this late hour, with the streets dark and nearly deserted nearby, what was she thinking? Grabbing his coat, glasses, and gloves with a snarl, he was out the door before he could think.

She was not hard to catch. One of his steps could account for three of hers. She made an enticing picture as she ambled down the street, swinging a little gift bag as she walked. Red coat and bright hair caught the light from the moon when it cut through the drifting clouds above. Her skirt displayed a tantalizing stripe of bare leg above a pair of black boots, and he found his mind drifting to how easy it would be to access her femoral artery in such an outfit.

Had she no idea what a tempting target she made? Quickly walking up behind her, he clamped his hand down on her shoulder and growled into her ear, careful to keep his voice as calm as possible.

"It's not wise to be out alone at this hour," he said.

She was predictably flustered by his approached, and he took a kind of pleasure in making her squirm even more. After all, she was responsible for his discomfort over the past week; it was only right she should feel a little back. He was actually rather enjoying bandying words with her, he realized, until she confessed that she was on her way to a club.

Adam could see it clearly in his mind. Her coat over some chair, she would be clad only in the short black skirt and the tight red satin top he could make out underneath. Her hips swaying as her cloud of hair moved around her, she would catch the eye of any man there. Some zombie or other was bound to come up to her, predatory and drunk most likely. His hands would roam her as they danced, on her bare leg, or sliding around her waist, brushing against her breast, her ass, pulling her close to his sweaty body as he ground against her his hardening dick.

"Ah, going to do what passes as dancing these days?" he said with an angry curl of his lip. "Grind against someone mindlessly to tuneless music?"

"Well, aren't we the old snob," she relied, rolling her eyes. "No, as a matter of fact it's a music club. Jazz and blues mostly. Small acts, lots of musicians stopping in when home from a tour, that sort of thing. Nothing fancy, but it has character."

"Really?"

That sounded... not terrible.

"Do you want to come?"

Adam opened his mouth to say no. He never went out, not to clubs or bars or any other place filled with mindless hordes of zombies. But as he looked at her, trying not to let him see how hopeful she was, something inside him softened while another part had completely the opposite reaction altogether.

"I suppose it's better than anything else I have to do."

"Wow, thank you so much."

He honestly hadn't meant to poke her with that comment. It was himself he was frustrated with, not her.

"I... I told you, I'm not good at this. I don't get out much, or see people."

"It's okay," she told him. "That's the good thing about music, you can just listen."

"Yeah."

The comment took Adam aback. That was exactly how he felt. So many people wasted time with needless babble. It was so much easier to just listen. Let the atmosphere and the music take you over and move you. Why didn't more people realize that? The thing he hated most about seeing music live were all the people who insisted on talking over it.

He had an odd moment when she hugged the doorman at that club, fighting back the urge to rip the man's throat open and soak the street in his blood. He managed to fight it back once he saw that the relationship was clearly more paternal than romantic. Not that he cared if she had romantic relationships, of course. He just felt protective over her. Because of the blood.

They entered the establishment and Adam looked around with tentative approval. It was dark, not overly crowded, and those that were there sat and listened attentively to the band playing on the stage. She led him over to the bar, where she leaned in to say hello to the woman working behind it. Evidently she knew this whole place well. Not at all where he would have pictured her hanging out.

"Hey, Ivy," she said, just loud enough to be heard but not so loud as to disturb the crowd.

"Lilly! So sorry to hear about Lillian. We all miss her around here. The usual?"

"Yeah, thanks. Oh, and Q says he's paying for it."

"Oh, big spender," the bar tender laughed. "Hi, I'm Ivy. And you are?"

"Adam," he supplied tersely.

"What can I get for you, Adam?" she asked, eyes flickering to his companion and back.

"Nothing, thank you," he answered.

Ivy moved away to make her drink and Adam sighed in relief. It would be much easier to hold himself back from fantasizing about drinking his companion's blood if she were intoxicated. He tried to not let his relief be tinted by disappointment.

"Adam?" she said, looking at him with a half smile. "That fits, I guess. I'm Lilly."

Lilly, he thought. That fit her as well. She was dainty and pretty, although it was sometimes obscured by her clumsiness. Vaguely he noticed the band had just ended a set and applauded automatically, but his attention was focused on fitting Lilly's name with her person.

"Here you go, sweet heart," Ivy interrupted, setting a pint glass filled with light pink liquid down in front of her. "Don't drink it too fast."

The women laughed and Adam raised his brow in question.

"Cranberry and seltzer," Lilly said with a grimace. "I don't drink. Doesn't interact well with my anxiety meds. I know, it makes me a bit of a drag, but -"

"No," he interrupted her. "I prefer it, actually. I don't drink either. Alcohol."

"Oh, well thanks. Or something."

She looked down shyly at her drink, playing with the straw. Adam gave himself a mental shake. She was a human. A zombie. And an annoying one at that. She had cried on him, pried into his wiring project, intruded on his music. Why was he so fascinated with her? Was it just that he longed to taste her again? But if so, then why did he imagine tasting other things than just her blood?

"My Grandmother used to sing here," she told him out of nowhere. "That's her photo over there, behind the bar. Lillian Bell. The owner was her drummer for a while back in the 60's. She would bring me here to listen to what she considered real music. She was a bit of a snob. You would have liked her."

"I'm sure I would have."

Adam scoured his memory, trying to think if he had ever heard of the woman. He thought he might have, actually. He had a vague recollection of a small woman with a big voice that looked not dissimilar to the photo she indicated.

"That's how I know music," she continued, chewing on the straw and drawing undo attention to her mouth. "I don't sing myself, or play much of anything well, but I have an excellent ear."

"Much to my gratitude," he said, realizing at that moment he did feel grateful to her for her assistance.

"Sorry about that," she turned the shade of her shirt. "It sometimes is physically painful for me to hear the wrong note. Or, I mean... not wrong wrong... I meant... oh gosh..."

Adam let her squirm for a few more minutes before putting her out of her misery. She was rather delightful twisting on her stool, looking for a way out of the trap her mouth had gotten her into. He had the feeling it was not an uncommon occurrence for her.

"It was wrong," he said at last, taking pity. "I was stubbornly trying to force a finish that didn't belong. I can be arrogant that way at times."

"No, not you!" she protested mockingly. "I never would have imagined!"

Against his usual nature and inclination, Adam felt a smile begin to raise the corners of his mouth. She was incorrigible, this woman. He could tell that she was intimidated by him, hell, he had cultivated that in her, and yet she still said whatever popped into her head, fear be damned. She was brave, and that was a rare quality it seemed to him.

"Well, if it isn't my little Lilly!"

Adam looked up to see the drummer from the last group sauntering over. Lilly jumped off of her stool and hugged him warmly, but this time Adam had no fear it was anything other than familial affection. He was ancient, if not compared to Adam than to other humans, easily in his late 80s at least. Still, he had held a steady beat. The musician in Adam had to respect that.

"Ossie, it's so good to see you!" Lilly gushed. "I'm sorry I haven't been by in so long."

"We all know why, Lil," the old man sighed. "Lillian didn't want you to see she was failing, so she made up lies to keep you away. I yelled at her for that, don't think I didn't!"

"I can only imagine," she said with a watery smile.

"And who is your young man, missy?"

Adam inwardly rolled his eyes at the moniker, not so much because it assumed they were together but that he was young.

"My friend," Lilly corrected him hastily. "Adam. He's a musician too."

"Good set," he nodded to the drummer.

"Well, I'm not sure how I feel about that," Ossie looked at him appraisingly. "You can do a lot better than one of us."

"Friend, Ossie," she stressed again. "And while you might be my almost Grandad, you are not my father!"

Adam wondered why it bothered him that she was so quick to disavow any serious connection to him. It must be his pride, he decided. She had seemed taken by him that first night on the roof, and certainly the evening he had knocked her over and she had proceeded to stare at his bare chest. He had rather liked the way her eyes lingered on his muscles, to be honest. But perhaps his churlishness had put her off. If so, good for both of them

"You watch what you are saying, Lilly," Ossie scolded her. "You know your Gran had eyes for no one but your Grandpop. When you find a love like that, you can get buried in the grief of it when it's gone, it and forget to let yourself move on. Don't make that same mistake."

"I have to fall in love once first, before I can move on to a second," she said.

Adam leaned back against the bar. Is that what he had been doing? Getting buried in his grief? Eve had made him promise to live, but was he really holding up his vow to her? It made him nervous to even think about.

"I have something for you," Lilly handed the bag to Ossie. "Open it after I'm gone, I can't deal with crying again tonight."

"You are such a sweet pea," he said. "And that reminds me, I have something for you, too! I was cleaning out my office, and I found some master tapes of one of our old recording sessions. And there's Miss Lillian, singing to make your heart break! You got an analogue player at the house? One of the old type, mind you?"

"I don't know," Lilly bit her lip. "I haven't seen one, I don't think."

"I have one," Adam offered, before he even thought about what he was saying. "We can listen to it at my place."

"Well, you might just be worth something after all," Ossie beamed at him.

Adam looked back and forth between Lilly and Ossie, both smiling at him as though he had hung the moon. Inside where his heart once beat, he felt an ever so slight easing that was almost a pain.

What, he wondered, had he gotten himself into?

[ladyreapermc]

Rules of Engagement 1/? (Henry x OFC)

Summary: Henry and Em have been friends for almost ten years and involved in a casual affair for just as long. The rules were simple: no romantic attachment and their friends and family couldn’t know. Easy enough to do right? However, when new complications emerge, Henry and Em will need to navigate this relationship of theirs, if they can even call it that. Chapter 02 | Chapter 03 |  Chapter 04  | Chapter 5  | Chapter 06

Author’s Notes: Here it is. My first official series for Henners. I’m strangely nervous, because it’s sort of my baby and I have been putting lots of work on it for a couple of months now. So I would really, really appreciate feedback if you could take some time to do it.

Wordcount: 4815

Warnings: alcohol consumption; smut (oral; dirty talk; penetration)

Chapter 01: Casual Affair

It was by pure chance that when Emeline’s flight coming from Istambul had technical difficulties while on air, they stopped in Budapest of all places. However, it was straight bad luck that what was supposed to be just a quick stop turned into an allnighter due to more serious engine problems, with her new flight being scheduled for the next morning.

She considered just getting herself a hotel but it was nearly ten p.m. she was exhausted and Em really didn’t want to deal with finding a half-decent place to crash when she could just call Henry. That was what friends were for right?

Henry came, of course. That was the kind of person he was. Kind and helpful. Dependable. He hugged her tight, since they hadn’t seen each other since Clara and Todd’s baby had been born, before taking her carryon like the perfect gentleman and ushering Em into the rental car he had been using during his stay.

During the drive, he talked in an excited tone about the series and all the work he had to do. Em could only smile at the huge grin on his lips and the glint of excitement in his blue eyes. It was quite something to see Henry this happy and engaged with a project. Em was truly glad for him, but she was also tired, never being one to sleep on airplanes, so her contributions to the conversations were just hmms and nods every now and then, not that Henry seemed to mind.

“Did you eat?” Henry asked once he parked at the driveway of the cute white house and its perfectly maintained lawn that had been his home for the last couple of months.

“Airport food? Please!” she pulled a face, making Henry laugh as he led the way through the stone pathway.

“You’re such a food snob,” he commented, pausing by the front door, and Em was already smiling because she could hear Kal’s whines through the door.

“I’m not. I just have good taste.” Em dropped to her knees to pet and greet Kal which shot out the second Henry opened the door.

She had always loved dogs but never had a chance to have one for herself. At first, her father didn’t allow it, but once she moved out Em didn’t really have the space to keep one so she channeled all her dog mom tendencies towards Kal.

“Sometimes I think you’re only friends with me so you can see Kal regularly,” Henry teased once she let go of the dog long enough to step inside and Em smirked at him.

“You are not wrong, Cavill,” she said, her gaze traveling over the tasteful décor of the house, but her focus was instantly drawn to the kitchen and as soon as she shook off her coat on Henry’s waiting hands, she made a beeline to the room, in Em’s opinion the most important part of any house. “I love your kitchen.” She ran her hands over the wooden countertops and light blue cabinets.

“Technically, it’s not mine,” he chuckled, moving towards the fridge. “I have aubergine lasagna leftovers. Want some?”

“That sounds disgusting,” Em said with a grimace. “But it will do.”

She settled at the isle with the heated lasagna, once again listening to Henry babble about the project and his castmates and how things were going in the set. Some of it she had already heard since they texted every day, but Em enjoyed listening to Henry and actually missed his deep baritone voice.

It made her glad that she chose to do this, instead of staying at some crappy motel by herself, awake most of the night since Em had a hard time sleeping in other beds that weren’t hers. At least here she had Henry and she missed him.

“So how was Istambul?” he asked, bringing her plate to the sink, refusing to let her clean up herself.

“It was amazing,” Em sighed, chin resting on her hand as she watched Henry’s back unseeingly. She was actually thinking back on her journey, in which she had spent a week exploring the city and the sights, completely by herself just like she preferred.

Now, with her belly full, it was her time to babble about everything she saw and experienced while there. Em knew Henry had seen the pictures and stories on her Instagram. He liked everything she posted during the week, but there something about the way he was watching her, the focused look in his dazzling blue eyes like she was telling him the most interesting story in the world, that just made Em keep going, even as Henry finished the dished and they moved to get more comfortable in the couch.

“It does sound like you had fun,” he smiled at her, body turned her way on the couch, head resting on his palm as he listened, his other hand holding his glass of wine. “But don’t you miss having someone to share the experience?

“Sometimes,” Em shrugged, sipping her wine, she was in her third glass by now and she really ought to slow down, her mind was already getting a little foggy.

She had been doing these travels since she turned eighteen. First, she had her best friend Clara as her companion, but as they got older, Em started doing by herself since Clara couldn’t. One or two boyfriends in her time had offered to come along once, but it felt wrong to taint the memories of those trips with someone that might not be with her for the long run.

“But it’s nice too, you know? To have my own thing, without anyone else,” she scratched Kal behind the ears, just like he liked it, smiling at the way he rested his head on her knee to keep being petted. “Thanks again for letting me stay.”

“Anytime,” Henry replied with a smile, his own eyes clouded with alcohol.

They had been talking for hours, one and a half bottles of wine gone in the process. Enough alcohol to make Em’s mind wander as she took in Henry’s impressive physique, the stupid amount of muscles he built up for the series stretching his blue button-down. His dark hair falling in messy curls over his forehead, just like she Em liked it and the blush of alcohol making his cheeks even sharper.

Fighting the allure of the man before her, Em shifted her gaze down to Kal, but it was like he could pick up that something was about to happen, because pulled away from her touch, trouting out the back door, leaving her with only one option now.

Henry’s palm was warm and rough against her jaw as he tilted Em’s face back towards him, his eyes searching for her consent before his lips landed on hers in a soft kiss that gradually grew heated as their mutual need for each other was set alight.

Em sighed against his lips, giving in to the urge that had been brewing from the second she dialed his number. She inched closer, fisting his shirt, licking into his mouth and chasing the taste of wine on his tongue as Henry let his fingers wander down her torso, sneaking under her blouse to touch skin.

“Bedroom,” she mumbled against his lips. “Last time on the couch was a mess.”

“Yeah,” Henry chuckled getting to his feet and leading the way backward, his mouth never leaving hers, his touch getting bolder as their kisses because more desperate.

“This is the last time we do this,” Em declared, fingers undoing the buttons of his shirt or at least trying to. The amount of alcohol she consumed was enough to leave her a little uncoordinated. Henry was doing only slightly better.

“You’ve said that the last five times.”

Em could feel his smirk as his mouth descended over her jaw, pressing sucking kisses on her neck. He loved to leave marks all over her. No matter how many times Em asked him not to, Henry would just ignore it. It was as if he knew she secretly loved to watch herself in the mirror in the following week and be reminded of how amazing the sex had been.

“I mean it this time,” Em said, finally undoing his shirt and pushing it down his shoulders, exposing Henry’s chiseled chest to her wandering hands.

“I think you said that too, last couple of times,” Henry pointed out, shaking his shirt to the floor and pulling hers over her head, leaving Em standing there in only jeans. “Just admit it: you love how I fuck you.”

“Like you don’t enjoy it too,” she said, pushing him towards the bed, and Henry fell back with a bounce and a chuckle.

“Oh, I definitely enjoy it,” he declared, that same smug smirk in place as she undid his pants. “Never said otherwise. Never been in denial either. You’re the one…” He trailed off with a groan when Em freed his hard cock, giving a couple of quick tugs before running her tongue over the underside vein.

Em didn’t want to think about the fact that Henry was absolutely right. She had always been the one to often have second thoughts about this casual affair the two of them had been keeping for years, but not because she didn’t like Henry. It was quite the opposite, Em liked Henry a little too much, but knew it just wouldn’t work, not when he was always all over the world shooting his movies and tv shows, while mostly she stayed in London due to her own work.

And they were both too career-driven and unwilling to concede to the other. If even as just friends, she and Henry were frequently bumping heads, Em could only imagine how terrible they would be as a couple.

She still remembered that fateful night that Clara dragged her to a sport’s bar of all places because she wanted Em to officially meet Todd. She had been at one of his rugby matches earlier that week but ended up leaving before being introduced. In hindsight, Em should have known something was up because of the way Clara made such a big deal about this meeting and fussed over her outfit

“You can’t wear jeans and t-shirt!” she complained, digging though her friend’s wardrobe as Em just huffed a breath and laid back in bed.

“Why not? I’m meeting your boyfriend. What I’m wearing doesn’t matter.”

She had just baked and decorated 150 cupcakes for a children's birthday party. She was exhausted and the last thing she wanted to do was going out, but Clara invoked the best friend rule, so Em was stuck.

“What if there’s a cute guy there?” Clara asked, coming out with a tight, black dress that Em hadn’t worn in 3 years and it definitely wouldn’t fit her now since she gained more than a couple of pounds. She really needed to do some spring cleaning in that closet.

“If a cute guy is hanging in a sport’s bar, big chances he’s a douche, and I already filled my douche quota for the year,” she replied as Clara dove back into the closet. “Besides, I don’t have time for relationships.”

And Em really didn’t. She has just invested all her savings in opening her dream bakery. No way she would be getting distracted by guys while she was trying to get her business off the ground.

“There’s always time for relationships!” Clara declared, coming out of the closet, this time holding one of Em’s favorite sweater dresses. “You never know when true love is gonna knock on your door.”

“Tell it to come by later,” she joked, grabbing the dress and walking into the bathroom to change. It would be a lost cause to argue with Clara. Her friend was a lawyer and could talk her ear off, so Em might as well just get this over with.

She put on the dress and the heels and the makeup Clara pushed her way before she was finally deemed worthy of stepping out of the flat for the bar. At arrival, they found Todd already in his third beer and accompanied by his friend Henry.

Todd and Clara played innocent, pretending to be surprised that the other decided to bring a friend too but Em knew right away this was an ambush. And if Henry’s eye roll was anything to go by, he knew it too. It was their friends' not so subtle attempt to set them up.

Em had to give it to Clara though, Henry was a handsome man but maybe too handsome. She was a run of the mill kind of girl. Not unattractive, mind you. She did pretty well dating wise, especially when she put an effort like tonight, but never with guys that looked like Henry.

He was all dark, curly hair, blue eyes with just a tiny fleck of brown. Perfect features and the kind of chiseled physique that his hoodie didn’t manage to hide completely. He also looked kind of familiar, but Em couldn’t place him right away in her memory.

As they talked, she kept staring at him with a thoughtful frown, trying to come up with subtle questions that could enlighten her of where she knew Henry from because the longer Em talker to him, and she couldn’t help but notice that Todd and Clara kept finding excuses to leave the table so she and Henry could be alone, stronger that familiarity became.

“So how did you meet Todd again?” Em asked, sipping on her drink, which was too sweet but she didn’t mind.

“We went to school together and still play rugby from time to time,” Henry replied, cradling his pint of Guinness. He had shifted on the booth so his back was to the corner and he could properly look at Em. “How about you and Clara?”

“We grew up together. Neighbors all our lives,” she replied, popping a chip in her mouth. “Clara dragged me to one of Todd’s matches on Sunday. Did I see you there?”

“Umm, no.” Henry smiled indulgently. “Just got back yesterday. I was out of town for work.”

She only hummed in response, trying to think back on anything that could have put her and Henry in the same place and explain this feeling of familiarity.

“The Tudors.”

“What?” She asked in confusion at Henry’s random comment.

“You’re trying to figure out from where you know me,” he pointed out with a smirk and Em felt her cheeks heating up. “I mean, I did some other stuff too, a couple of very bad horror movies but that was my biggest role, so you might know me from there.”

It was like a lightbulb finally switched in her brain and she finally managed to place him in her memory.

“Oh my God, you did that weird-ass movie with the nazi vampire zombie! The one with Fassbender and the guy from Prison Break.” Em exclaimed a little too loudly, but Henry only chuckled. “That movie was terrible.”

“Yes,” he nodded, ducking his head a little, and was that a blush? “And seriously? That’s where you know me from?”

“I like crappy horror movies, ok?” Em shrugged with a grin.

“Clearly.” Henry laughed too.

And just like that, conversation flowed easily between them. Henry was a fun guy, surprisingly dorky, and a huge geek for videogames and the fantasy genre. It was nice to talk to someone that seemed to appreciate Lord of the Rings as much as Em did and she didn’t even notice when Todd and Clara slipped out without a word, obviously thinking their job was done.

Maybe if Henry was someone else, not an actor or that hot, they could have been right but as it was, Em didn’t see things going beyond a cool friendship.

That was what she thought at least until Henry walked her home, like a perfect gentleman, making her laugh with so many stupid jokes her sides were aching and she felt like she hadn’t smiled this much in days.

“You didn’t need to walk me all the way to my door,” She commented, turning to face him, her back leaning against the frame. Even in her heels, she needed to tilt her head up to look at him.

“You’re kidding me, right?” Henry snorted. “You can barely stand on those.”

He wasn’t wrong, but it was more because her feet were sore from the constricted space than from the amount of alcohol she consumed, though that definitely played a factor on Em turning her head just when Henry leaned closer to lay a goodbye kiss on her cheek, making his lips land on hers instead.

They just stared at each other until Henry closed the distance again, his mouth returning to hers for a harder, much hotter kiss that had Em pressed against the door. His hands found their way under the hem of her dress; hers to his hair, pulling him even closer, desperation clawing inside her gut because it had been a while for her.

That was only the first of the one-night stands with Henry. Back then, Em thought it would be the only one, but as years passed, whenever the two of them found themselves single and in need of release, they would get together, no strings attached, no commitment, just a purely physical thing that none of their mutual friends knew about.

Her attention snapped back to the present when Henry tugged on her hair until she let his cock out of her mouth with a pop, crawling on top of him to meet his lips for a messy kiss.

“Where did you go just now?” he asked, panting. His hands working on the buttons of her jeans to push them off. “Your mind was so far away.”

Strangely enough, this casual affair they shared made her friendship with Henry stronger because once you’ve seen a person naked and on one of their most vulnerable moments, it could be so easy to open up to them.

“Just thinking about when we met,” Em replied, sucking on his lower lip and Henry let out a weird wheezing sound that it was half a groan, half a laugh.

“That’s was a good night,” he said, rolling them until Em was lying on her back and he was on top of her. His blue eyes, despite being clouded by lust, were still so intense and seemed to be able to look straight into her soul. “But I want you here, in the present with me.”

Henry met her lips so softly and with so much affection that her breath caught in her throat, hand tightening on the sheets beneath her as his mouth descended over her body, kissing and sucking and biting. Lingering over all her pleasure spots and lavishing them with attention.

This was why Em needed to put an end to this thing with Henry. Lately, every time the two of them ended in bed together, it was getting harder and harder to keep the doors closed against the growing feelings in her heart.

To keep herself from not letting the love she felt for her friend Henry to be contaminated by the lust that ignited in her body whenever the two of them fucked, turning this into something else that would definitely end with her heart broken.

“I can hear you thinking,” Henry chided, biting her lower belly and making Em jolt and giggle.

“Sorry, sorry,” she looked down at him with a smile. “Just too much in my head tonight.”

“Let’s see if I can make you relax.”

He smirked at her, his mouth moving lower, planting soft kisses over your hipbones, tongue tracing the waistline on her panties, and anticipation started building in her center. Em wanted to press your legs together to find some kind of friction, but Henry was kneeling between them, his strong hands keeping them open; thumbs rubbing circles on the sensitive inner skin of her thighs and she couldn’t focus on anything else even if she wanted to.

His mouth finally moved lower, tongue teasing her folds through the lace of her panties and she gasped and tried to thrust up but Henry kept her down before hooking his fingers on her panties and pulling them down, exposing her wet cunt to his warm breath and she shivered in expectation.

Henry seemed to be keen on driving her crazy because he was taking it so very slow, kissing and nipping her mound on his way down until finally, his tongue flickered against her clit. Only the briefest of touch but it was enough to make Em buck and moan, her hands coming to his hair and fingers digging in his scalp.

“Stop teasing,” she asked, making Henry chuckle against her and a groan ripped from Em’s throat at the sweet vibrations. “Hen… please.”

“That’s better,” he replied, rewarding her with a broad stroke of his tongue over her slit before he sucked hard on her clit. Her eyes rolled back and she raised her hips to try to get more of it.

Fortunately, Henry seemed to be done teasing because he moved things along, licking and sucking and even nipping very, very gently on her clit, while two of his thick fingers moved in and out of her drenched slit. Every outer motion he crooked his fingers up, hitting right in that spot to make Em see stars.

It was easy to get lost in sensations whenever she was with Henry. He knew her body like the back of his hand and made sure to keep her completely engaged. He kept his eyes on her face, reading her expressions to make sure she was enjoying herself but also because he knew Em loved the sight of him like this, his mouth on her cunt, his eyes dark with his desire for her.

He also made sure to hum and grunt for her, so she could hear how much he loved her taste and smell. Whenever his mouth wasn’t busy, he would also whisper the filthiest things in her ear, because he knew it turned her on.

His free hand roamed her body, touching and kneading her breasts, pinching the nipples to make Em arch and mewl, sending bolts of pleasure that seemed to gather on her core, coiling into a knot of ecstasy that made her writhe and shake. Her body tense with arousal, toes curling and thighs quivering as her orgasm approached like a rushing wave.

Henry also knew exactly when she was close to the edge. Em never needed to let him know and he would always redouble his effort, suck her clit harder, finger her faster, until that knot finally snapped and she arched against his mouth, her release soaking his fingers and chin.

Her body felt weightless like she was floating. Her muscles spasmed with the aftershocks of her pleasure and her mind, always running, was for once pleasantly blank as Em grinned wide, enjoying her high.

She barely noticed when Henry pressed one final kiss to her clit before he crawled on top of her again, meeting her lips and letting Em taste herself. It was one of the things that turned him on, to have her lick her juices from his mouth and chin, letting her tongue running over the rough skin of his stubbled jaw, chasing every last drop and Em felt his cock twitching in response against her hip.

“Fuck me, Hen,” she gasped against his cheek before her lips moved to his ear, nipping the lobe to make him groan. “I wanna feel you deep inside me.”

With her brain still swimming in endorphins, She barely noticed Henry getting up and moving to the bathroom. She only registered the curse he let out as he came back to the room with an empty box.

“Do you have some?”

She gave Henry a look, propped in her elbows. Em was a little too old to go around with condoms in her purse. She kept them on her toiletry bag which was in her suitcase, still at the airport.

“Shit! I really wanted to fuck you tonight.” He dropped the box on the ground, combing his fingers through his hair before climbing on top of Em, his kiss searing and stealing her breath away.

She moaned against his mouth, fingers digging on his shoulders. It had been a while for her and Em shared Henry’s frustration. She wanted to feel him inside her, filling and stretching her in that perfect way only Henry could do.

“Do it,” she declared, meeting his confused gaze. “It’s fine, I have an IUD and it’s not like I’ve been with anyone else in the last four months.”

“Me either,” Henry replied, his forehead resting against hers. “You’re sure?”

“Yeah.” She nodded, smirking at him. “Fuck me, Henners.” He groaned and glared, making her chuckle. He hated the nickname and Em knew it.

“I’m gonna make you regret that.”

He flashed her a mischievous smirk, reaching between the two of them to guide his cock to her slit, pushing inside in one rough stroke and Em cursed and clawed at his back, the sudden intrusion with just that edge of pain made her clench tighter against him and Henry grunted against her ear, pulling her legs around his waist.

“Fuck, Henry!” she hissed breathlessly, slapping his shoulder blade, which felt more like hitting a brick wall. “A little warning would be nice.”

“You love it,” he smirked down at her and nipped at her bottom lip before grinding his hips against hers, making Em moan. “No point in pretending otherwise.”

His movements started slow and deliberate. Henry’s goal was to drive her crazy all over again because he loved to see Em lose control and he loved to gloat over the fact that he was the only guy that ever managed to make her cum more than once on the same night.

Taking her hands in his and pinning above her head, Henry started to add some more strength to his movements, pulling almost all the way out before slamming back in, making Em mewl at how deep he was going.  His mouth on her neck, and collarbone returning to the task of marking her as his, even if the two of them weren’t like that.

Her hips raised as best as she could to meet his movements and welcome him in. Her walls clenching tight as if refusing to let him go and every time, it made Henry grunt and suck harder on her skin before he soothed the spot with his tongue. She arched closer, seeking more as he licked a path from the hollow of her throat to her chin, lapping at the sweat gathering in her skin before his lips met hers again.

Soon, all Em knew was the way their bodies moved in tandem, meeting each other in search of pleasure. Henry praised and whispered dirty things in her ear, while her fingers entwined with his and her heels dug on the small of his back, urging him to move faster, harder, give her everything she craved for.

The knot of pleasure started to form in her core once again, growing and expanding as she could feel every single ridge of Henry’s thick cock filling her up, his pelvic bone slapping her clit at each thrust. She knew he was close too, his motions losing its controlled rhythm, becoming wilder, messy. His grunts turning throatier, his words filthier.

“God, I love your cunt. The way it squeezes me so tight,” he mumbled against Em’s mouth, his breath coming in short pants. “It feels even better without that fucking latex. Shit! I wanna fill you up with my cum. Do you want that? Can I cum inside you?”

“Yeah.” Em nodded, too far gone to form a reply more elaborate than that.

“I wanna see it trickling down your pussy.” Henry’s grin was absolutely filthy and she cried out as his words brought forth her second orgasm of the night.

“Oh fuck, yes!” He grunted his grin widening, his hips snapping harder against hers, dragging out the ripples of pleasure shaking her body. “Just like that! Yeah. Fuck! I’m gonna…”

His words hung in the air as Henry stilled above her, muffling his growl against her shoulder as he spilled inside her and she could feel his cock pulsing against her quivering walls and Em never felt more complete before.

In the back of her mind, a treacherous thought broke free and she couldn’t help but think that she could definitely get used to this. Having Henry every night, without barriers, without anything in the way. Just the two of them. Like it was meant to be.

x(tbc)x     Chapter 02

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[lokidiabolus]

The Deal - Chapter 3

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel (web series)

Pairing: Alastor / Angel Dust

Warnings: human!Angel Dust (Anthony), Deal with a devil AU

Summary: Sometimes you had nobody to spend the Christmas with. Sometimes you didn’t want to. Sometimes you took a chalk and drew a pentagram on the floor fully ready to deal with anything that would come out as an alternative to self-pity occurring otherwise.

or

The time when Anthony thought if he can’t get anybody to love him properly, he can just make a deal with a devil and find out what affection feels like. Alastor thinks this mortal is pitiful beyond belief and concede. Cuddles happen.

Can be found on Ao3.

Notes: Holy shit, this took long, and should probably take longer but I'm just itching to get all this out of my system, so here it is. Also realized Alastor’s gloves are not fucking black and red lmao, but burgundy, fuuuck. Changed it.

Unbetad!

2020, January 18th

“What did ya think I’d say to a dead deer in my living room?!” Anthony almost fell out of the window for how far out from his flat he was leaning, trying to get rid of the corpse stench that assaulted his senses. “Is it some kind of fuckin’ peace offering? Like sorry, I fucked up, here’s a dead deer?!”

“A deer for my dear~,” Alastor singsonged in response while happily cutting vegetable at the kitchen counter, as if there was no stinky corpse in the flat, bloody and so, so dead.

“No, fuck you,” Anthony growled back into the flat, not bothering to turn even a little. “I hate you.”

“Now, now, cher, lyin’s bad for your health.”

“You are bad for my health!” he turned to the demon with an accusatory finger pointed at his face, and then made a retching noise when the smell of blood reached his nostrils. His hangover state couldn’t handle the smallest deviation from normal and corpses were definitely not in top 1000 of smells he was used to. Alastor didn’t even raise an eyebrow, he just calmly continued his ministrations as if he just didn’t carve the poor deceased animal right in the very room. Wasn’t it some sort of cannibalism if he would eat anything made from that thing? A deer eating another deer? Was that even allowed?  

“Dat might be tru,” the demon agreed after a moment of pondering. “Demons are rarely good fer people.”

“Ugh,” Anthony sagged against the windowsill and the icy wind blew snowflakes into his face. “Seriously, why did ya even bring this thing. Where did ya even get it? A whole fuckin’ deer…”

“Hunted it down,” Alastor shrugged and walked towards the sink where the meat was resting pitifully (in Anthony’s opinion), portioned, but also skinned with surprising skill, not elaborating on the hunting part like it was his favourite hobby and not worth questioning. “It’s our weekend. Wanted to cook for you.”

Our weekend sounded sweet. Anthony wanted to be wary of that, but he was just a human and he liked it despite the possible danger lying in those words. After all that went down, it was apparent Alastor saw him as something akin to a pet project, a “unfuck this guy before he dies” sort of challenge, if his I’m going to fix you eventually speech was sincere. Who knew if anything about this person was sincere in general, but making dumb life decisions was Anthony’s forte so maybe he was inclined to believe the demon anyway.

“’K,” he huffed, his stomach finally calming down and he started to get chilly. “Just… tell me when yer done with the raw meat shit. The tequila is not agreeing with me otherwise.”

There was no answer until after several minutes he felt a hand touching his lower back and a body leaning against him to join him at the window.

“Aren’t you cold ‘ere?” Alastor asked as if he just didn’t squeeze in with him at the window and his warmth was a stark contrast with the chilly wind blowing outside.

“Well, not anymore,” he forced himself to remain on spot and not lean into the contact, more out of spite than anything else, but Alastor did it for him, hugging him from the side.

Hugging… him, what?

He must have felt the rigidness of Anthony’s body, there was no way he would not. Sure, they talked about hugs, but Alastor never looked like he was going to act on it anytime soon, and this was definitely soon as fuck.

“Meat is boilin’ and I put rest in da fridge,” Alastor’s voice was so, so close.

“I have a dead deer in my fridge now?” the human faked a reprimanding tone and the arm around him tightened and he felt Alastor nuzzling his hair. Oh. He wasn’t lying when he said he and his shadow are one person, because this felt familiar – only much warmer.

“Oi,” he nudged the man. “If ya feel like huggin’, I want a proper hug.” And took a step back and opened his arms.

Alastor hummed… and went back to the kitchen counter.

“Don’t push your luck, cher,” he said instead, like he didn’t just leave Anthony hanging, probably also out of spite. “How ‘bout you peel potatoes instead?”

“Wow,” Anthony let his arms drop down. “Just wow.”

He helped with the potatoes anyway and tried ridiculously hard to ignore the fact Alastor’s Bambi tail was wagging all this time.

***

2020, February 13th

“I have a request.”

“Only one this time?”

Anthony refused to feel offended by that. Alastor had been bitchy for a week now, probably had to do something with Hell fucking with his control kink, but it usually only made him snarkier, rather than hostile. Anthony wouldn’t probably even notice if the demon didn’t snap on Wednesday and Anthony’s living room suddenly resembled a boutique with at least fifty racks of clothes haphazardly appearing where was still free space, making Anthony stare at it like a child during Christmas. It wasn’t a bad “snap” Alastor had, actually seemed like a nice gesture until he said: Now be a good boy, Anthony, pick something nice and be quiet. If I hear one more word from you, one of those jackets is going to strangle you to death. So, Anthony shut up and Alastor eventually calmed down enough to allow him to speak again without the static going haywire (and he also let him keep the clothes, ayyy).

State Alastor was in also meant no touching policy. Anthony taught himself not to initiate anything unless in bed about a month ago already but still sometimes slipped when Alastor was too close – and it usually didn’t rouse a bad reaction (unless it was about the tail. Or the ears), but if Anthony tried it when the static was loud and grating, he’d risk a limb. He didn’t have a problem to keep his distance at that point and Alastor seemed to appreciate it.

But now it sucked.

“Ya know, tomorrow is the 14th,” the human pointed out, sitting sprawled in the comfy oversized cushion he bought himself two weeks ago and at which Alastor scoffed for some reason. It was the best thing to laze in ever, the demon had no taste. “And ya know.”

“I am not sure what I should know on the 14th,” the demon uttered, his red eyes not leaving a page of his book for a second. He was seated on the couch with enough distance between two of them that could be still considered social and as hanging out instead of we had an argument so we’re not talking to each other, which was technically not true. They didn’t argue since the tequila fiasco and that cleared up anyway. This was mostly just… precaution.

“Well, I know this is your last day this week,” Anthony tried different approach and sat more properly on the cushion. Not that it helped much, since he was sporting a pink crop top hoodie and booty shorts and Alastor already expressed certain distaste for it, but didn’t demand him to go change, so it was at least a small victory.

“Indeed, it is,” Alastor responded primly, turning a page in slow pace, like a snob he was sometimes. Another thing about the bitchy state of his was the speech. He never let it slip like he usually did when they were together, just talked like a radio all the time like he was keeping his barriers up almost hysterically. Anthony didn’t question it, but he sure did miss his Cajun accent a lot. It felt much warmer and softer than the radio show host persona Alastor normally presented, although it was probably just his form of coping.

“Yeah, yeah,” he nodded, bracing for inevitable refusal that was going to meet his demand. He knew Alastor well enough to distinguish when he was not going to be swayed, and it definitely reached that point. “Just wondered if maybe you’d stay one more day.”

“I am quite busy, dear,” Alastor responded as Anthony thought he would. “You could have planned it a week prior if you knew 14th was an important date.”

It was like talking to a computer at this point. Please leave a message, beep.

“Ya, I could have,” Anthony admitted and let it go. It wasn’t like Valentine’s Day was something special for either of them. Or, honestly, meant anything to their relationship. Maybe there was some Deal day in hell’s calendar they could open bottle of wine to down the year eventually.

A sigh and Alastor was putting his book down, his smile rather strained.

Uh oh.

“Anthony,” there was the Name CallingTM, “if you have something to say, say it.”

“Nothin’,” the human shrugged while sagging back into the cushion. “Three days are up.”

It was the weekend-less week now too and Anthony knew Alastor was itching to get back to hell to deal with whatever was needing his attention and he sort of thought of telling him if he really needed to go, he could, despite the deal saying otherwise, but was selfish and never did.

“I am not going to repeat myself,” the static rumbled more, meaning the bitching mode intensified and Anthony groaned. He should have kept his mouth shut.

“It’s just Valentine’s Day, ‘s all,” he mumbled and right the moment the sentence left his mouth, he would shoot himself if he could, because even to his ears it sounded so… cringy. Like he was expecting Alastor to bring him flowers and have dinner together with candles and all that bullshit they do in the movies. He pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath. “Actually. Forget it. I dunno why I even thought about it, for fuck’s sake.”

“Lover’s day,” Alastor didn’t forget it. Oh no.

“Yeah, but I didn’t mean it that way, honest,” Anthony quickly assured him, and really wished Alastor would just shrug it off and return to his book like love never interested him. Since it never did. He was such an anti-intimate and anti-sexual person Anthony suspected him of really being just a little alien in a robotic body, like in Men in Black.

“Then what did you mean by asking me to stay on the Lover’s day?”

Oh yeah, okay, bastard mode activated now as well. Just keen on marinating Anthony in his own sweat and tears from the obvious mistake. Classic Alastor.

“Nothin’,” he piped defensively.

“Nothing would not make you ask me to stay one more day on Lover’s day,” Alastor was staring at him like a laser now, just burning through his skull. He was obviously super into making Anthony squirm in self-pity from his bad life decisions.

“Please, forget I asked.”

“No.”

“Pleaaaaase.”

“No.”

And that was it. That was the end. That was Anthony herded into an imaginary corner with nowhere to go, and Alastor was already turning towards him, and he couldn’t say if the smile was mischievous or angry. Lately the border between those was thin as fuck.

“I just thought a company on the most depressing day of the fuckin’ year would be nice, is all,” he gritted his teeth under Alastor’s red-eyed stare. “Like. We could watch some chic-flics on TV and drink wine and laugh at it, I don’t know.”

“You know how I feel about the picture show shenanigans,” Alastor shot right back, as expected. He learned to more or less tolerate when Anthony wanted to watch something on TV in his presence, but he never joined him for it like a goddamn boomer.

“Ye, see. So, it was doomed from the start anyway!” He hoped it was the end of it. Sure, he might have thought about some cuddles here and there too, since that was what they were supposed to do anyway, but the main plan was not to be alone while hating on all the hearts and roses and happy couples showed everywhere.

“It would seem so,” Alastor finally let him off the hook and opened his book again, the static diminishing slightly. “You can still drink wine though.”

“I plan to,” the human mumbled more to himself than to his companion and was just glad he didn’t need to go to work on that wretched day, or Alastor would find him in hell the very evening.

***

2020, February 14th

He’d be lying if he didn’t have at least the smallest hope of Alastor appearing out of thin air with one of the soft smiles he could do and with his Cajun accent telling him he changed his mind and wouldn’t leave him alone on such awful, overrated cash-grabbing day like this. It was probably 1 % chance of it happening, but he still felt a little disappointed when the clock showed a bit before midnight and Alastor didn’t show up at all, not even saying hi over the radio or sending Junior to give him few comforting nuzzles (Anthony was suspecting him he kept his shadow on short leash since the tequila incident and it was kind of sad).

He was switching between channels with a small frown two wine bottles later, but at least he managed to survive this shitty day without burying his face in PCP. He’d have to leave the house for it and the image of seeing happy hand holding couples on his way would kill the urge anyway.

Once Titanic started to play, Anthony decided it was enough suffering for one day and turned the TV off with a groan. Maybe Alastor knew exactly what kind of boredom the TV was, if not playing shitty movies, then filling majority of its broadcast with ads, and that’s why he avoided it.

He dragged his body to the bathroom and then to the bedroom to cuddle his body pillow instead of Alastor (not the same, but at least he didn’t wake up in the middle of the night anymore feeling cold and alone), and stopped dead in the tracks, staring at his bed.

There was a rose on his pillow – a red, beautiful rose just lying there like it was no biggie, and Anthony was afraid to blink in fear it would disappear. He padded closer, staring at the flower, and then turned quickly, searching the shadows for any sign of Junior hanging around, ready to pounce. He found nothing, the flat was silent and dark, and the rose was still on the pillow when he turned back.

“Al, you fuckin’ softie,” he chuckled to himself, picking the rose with a smile playing on his lips, just to hiss immediately after when a thorn bit into his thumb, drawing blood. Of course the demon would leave all the thorns intact, if not even adding more, just to show him he’s not as soft as Anthony would think.

“Classic Alastor,” he shook his head and brought the rose to his lips. “Thank you.”

He missed the shadow slithering out of the room and disappearing in the radio softly buzzing in the kitchen.

***

2020, July 25th  

“Jazz club?”

“I’m in a mood for some good live music,” Alastor opened another wardrobe in the bedroom and raked through the clothes on hangers, mostly scoffing in distaste. It was Saturday evening and the night was warm and lively, inviting them out. “Do you actually own anything presentable or is it all just random bright coloured horrors?”

“Excuse me,” Anthony pushed him to the side from the wardrobe opening and dived in himself, pulling out a pastel blue shirt with stitched flowers on its lapels. “I only have the nicest-,”

“Denied,” Alastor snatched it from his hand and threw it on the bed. “Try again.”

Anthony huffed but grabbed another of his favourite pieces, an old-pink V neck he couldn’t even properly present before Alastor was taking it out of his hold and throwing it on the bed too.

“Yer such a prude sometimes, holy shit,” he rolled his eyes. “What the fuck ya want me to wear then?”

“Something dashing, of course,” the demon eyed the closet one more time and then closed it with a scoff. “And something red too.”

So we match was left unsaid.

“Maybe you should try pink instead,” Anthony smirked but honestly it was better if Alastor never attempted that one. Red and black were his colours like an ingrained order of the world, any deviation from it would probably make it collapse.

He wasn’t surprised Alastor didn’t react. Instead the demon left the bedroom and Anthony followed him while thinking.

“I can wear a dress,” Anthony offered after a moment. “Like. Those nice jazzy cocktail dresses and feathers in hair in a pearl headdress. And do nice make up.”

“A dress?” Alastor repeated. “Do you own any?”

“Yeah, plenty,” the human shrugged. “Often from work, though it was other bar I worked in before. Most of the guys were in a drag, they taught me how to do my own make up and how to style the hair. Really enjoyed that place, too bad they closed it down once the owner shot himself cuz of his debts.”

“Unfortunate,” Alastor commented with a nod. “Though I do recall you were saying the bar you work in now have the costume events too. Are dresses part of it as well?”

“Anything goes,” Anthony shrugged. “Dresses, skimpy body suits, fishnets, business wear. It’s usually themed with the drinks and the food.” He didn’t miss Alastor’s eye roll when he mentioned the skimpy body suits, but at least Al didn’t comment on it.

“I suppose guests enjoy that kind of show,” Alastor said matter-of-factly and Anthony decided not to elaborate. Going to work no longer made him feel at ease, it was mostly automatic. He just shut down all of the negativity, did the work, slapped grabby hands and went home. It more or less kept him out of trouble so far.

“So? Want me to doll up?” he leered at the demon between the doors. “I even have a red dress that might be just what you’d like.”

Alastor looked curious, that was a good sign. It had been few years since Anthony dressed up like this, but it could be a nice change of pace and a treat for his favourite demon who might not have about any interest in intimacy but could get very appreciative when he saw something he liked.

“Please,” the static dropped from Alastor’s voice. “Surprise me, cher.”

Anthony beamed and disappeared in the bedroom.

***

“Grandma,” Anthony walked into the living room in high heels, a fluffy coat covering his body all the way to his knees. He immediately drew Alastor’s attention and saw his eyebrows shooting up. Before he could open his mouth and ask probably why the hell was Anthony wearing a winter coat in the middle of summer, the human dramatically threw the coat down, so it pooled around his feet and struck a pose. “It’s me! Anastasia!”

Cue for the laugh, though Alastor just remained staring without a single word and Anthony cackled and kicked the coat away back into the bedroom without bothering to put it on a hanger.

“Forgot ya don’t watch TV, joke’s lost on ya,” he commented dryly and walked closer, the heels clicking against the wooden floor rhythmically. Alastor still stared but reached out towards him, so Anthony put a hand into his and their fingers intertwined.

“Ya like?” he cocked his head to the side and Alastor actually beamed at him, his eyes raking appreciatively over the setup the human presented – deep red flapper dress with long, pearl necklace tied on his chest into a knot, with fishnets and open black heels, and long black gloves reaching just above his elbow. The red and black eyeshadow with perfect eyeliner took some time, but Anthony was proud of the result and judging from Alastor’s pleased expression it was worth the wait. He styled his hair into 20’s fashion (thanks google) and the only thing he was missing was the headdress and the feather, but he imagined it wouldn’t be a problem for Alastor if he asked for it.

“Vous êtes absolument époustouflant,” the fluent French came out and even though Anthony had no idea what it meant, he believed it was a compliment. At least the tone sounded like it was.

“Hehe,” he let Alastor to twirl him around and when he finally faced the demon again, he realized he was not in the pinstriped suit anymore, but instead of the coat there was an elegant black vest and the red shirt under had different pattern as well, all accompanied by a thin black tie.

“Damn, that’s pretty sweet, Al,” he gently patted the tie and Alastor offered his arm with a smile.

“I believe we’re ready now, cher,” the demon gestured towards the main door and Anthony locked their elbows together and let Alastor lead them out. He felt his palms sweating in the gloves, the last time he felt so nervous was maybe on his first real date, but he was so not telling that out loud.

***

Birdland jazz club was the first thing that Anthony thought of and Alastor seemed satisfied when they entered the building and found a place to sit. Going out with Alastor wasn’t as frequent as it could be, but Anthony didn’t mind it either way. The first time they ventured outside of the walls of Anthony’s flat was around March and it left Anthony wondering why nobody actually turned around when seeing Alastor from the get go – the suit, the hair, the red glowing eyes – not really a normal sight in New York, that for sure.

2020, March 24th  

“They don’t see me like you do,” Alastor told him when they sat in a coffee shop and ordered. The waiter didn’t even bat an eyelash at the demon, and it left Anthony’s mind reeling. “They just see a normal person, not even that interesting.”

“As in completely different person?” Anthony inquired and Alastor gently touched his forehead before taking his hand back again. In that moment instead of the red-eyed demon there was a man in his thirties, if not younger, with wild brown hair, rather short and tousled, hazel eyes hidden under round glasses, in a white shirt and a vest, looking completely human and normal and honestly kind of cute?

“Oooh,” Anthony couldn’t help it, “what a cute guy, damn. Ya can change to whoever ya want?”

“Not really,” the human had Alastor’s radio voice, how bizarre. “This face… it’s not whoever, it’s just me.”

Anthony blinked, taking in the face and the eyes and the small smile, and oh, yeah, there was a resemblance now when he focused more, but that would mean…

“Wait. Ye were a human before becoming a demon?” he gaped in shock and one eyebrow shot up on the pretty human-Alastor face.

“How is that surprising? We even talked about my mother,” he shook his very human head. Damn, it was so strange, yet adorable. “Of course, I was a human. Then I died. Ended up in Hell.”

“I don’t know!” Anthony groaned. “I know we talked about it but I just… I mean ya seem like an important and strong kind of demon? Like Lucifer-kind of demon? Surely there are demons born in hell and not just sinners becoming ones?”

“Yes, hellborn demons are a thing,” Alastor nodded and then stopped talking when the waitress approached with their orders, placing a steaming cup of black coffee in front of Alastor and Frappuccino in front of Anthony. The demon eyed Anthony’s drink with distaste but didn’t comment on it. “It is amusing to topple them over, while being just a sinner.”

“But then… you don’t really hold your appearance when you get down there? Or did you choose it?” Anthony tilted his head to the side, not getting enough of this stranger in front of him. Familiar, yet not at all.

“You do not have a say in it,” Alastor answered simply. “The appearance the sinner take in Hell depends on his life or the way he died. There are variety of things in play.”

Anthony nodded thoughtfully while sipping his drink and then grinned around his straw.

“What,” Alastor narrowed his eyes at him and Anthony let the straw go with an audible pop.

“Well, didja fuck a deer~?”

 2020, July 25th  

Alastor ordered whiskey and Malibu Sunset for Anthony without even needing to ask his companion and the waiter eyed them both with a pleasant smile before leaving. The club was almost full, and the live band just started to perform, which made the ambience quite enjoyable. Anthony didn’t mind jazz, though he was not a die-hard fan of it either. He knew about the clubs but never actually came to chill in one like this before. It was… pretty nice, especially with the company. Alastor was holding his hand on the table, a gentle touch Anthony relished in, and for some reason here, sitting like this, he felt like his equal. Like not only as a pet project and a future pawn, but a partner.

“It is peculiar,” Alastor suddenly spoke, his eyes meeting Anthony’s again. “For how much the world changed, jazz clubs are still feeling almost the same to me.”

“Compared to which year?” Anthony asked, holding his gaze and felt a thumb gently caressing the back of his hand.

“1930,” Alastor smiled with surprising gentleness. “What a year.”

1930. He didn’t know when exactly Alastor died, but if in 1930 he was enjoying jazz clubs, he must have been an adult already. It made him 80 years old past his death at least.

“30’s baby,” Anthony chuckled. “No wonder you don’t fancy TV. It was probably just coming out?”

“Yes, the biggest wave came after I died, thankfully,” a clear distaste in Alastor’s voice was hilarious. “Would prefer radio anyway. It was my job after all.”

“A radio host?” Anthony guessed as much, and the demon hummed while sipping his whiskey. It fitted him, that sort of occupation. “Well, I dunno what ya did in your life to end up in hell,” he leaned against his palm, smiling at Alastor softly, “but yer biggest sin is not talkin’ in that accent of yers. And I mean it. It’s so hot.”

“Correct speech was a must for a radio,” Alastor said primly, but he looked very relaxed talking about it. “Talkin’ like dis would make me a garbage host.”

“I could listen to ya for hours tho,” Anthony grinned and Alastor glanced back to the live band with a small smile, still holding Anthony’s hand.

 The night passed fast with great music and maybe a little more alcohol then they planned on drinking, but they could still walk on their own legs when leaving. When drunk, Alastor dropped the correct speech entirely and was extremely touchy feely, which reduced Anthony into a giggling mess.

“You’re a lovely companion, cher,” he was crooning at Anthony when they were walking home through the New York streets, arm sneaked around Anthony’s waist. “Da deal we made was da best thing dat happened to me in a long time.”

“Oh, man, Al,” Anthony couldn’t help but laugh softly. “Ya know how to flatter a guy, huh.”

“Truth is da sincerest form of flattery!” Alastor spun the human around, twirling him on the pavement like a ballerina, then stilling him again with both hands holding his waist. “And I mean every word.”

“Ha, are ya this happy because of the dress?” he batted his eyelashes at the demon and Alastor’s hands slid lower to Anthony’s hips before returning to his waist, an appreciative touch that made Anthony’s breath hitch.

“It suits you,” Alastor concluded, standing close and personal. “Da whole look suits you so well. But even in your pink distasteful pieces of cloth you call fashion, you still look da best.”

“O-ooh, boy,” Anthony felt his heartbeat speed up. If he’d only slightly dipped his head, he could be kissing the man in front of him. Maybe normally he even would if his partner wasn’t a demonic deer with intimacy aversion. But he didn’t want to fuck this up. Holy shit, he would really go and kill himself if he fucked it up now of all times by not holding his horses and forcing himself on an obvious asexual only enjoying the company, while having too many drinks to keep his defences up.

“T-thanks, Al,” he gulped down the cringy nicknames he would use on anybody else after a date night. “Yer the best company I could’ve hoped for too.”

He was adamantly sure it wasn’t him who brought them together, that it was Alastor’s hand grabbing the back of his neck and pulling him lower and then pressing their lips together in a quick kiss, and Alastor’s body pushing against his, and also Alastor who stepped away again with half lidded eyes and a sly smile, saying: “Remember, you’re mine forever.”

Anthony was never, ever going to forget that.

***

2020, July 26th  

It was the rhythmical beat of rain against the windowsill that woke Anthony up. The weather let up a little and allowed a little colder wind to blow through the windows and it felt so pleasant Anthony just buried his face back into the warmth and breathed out in contentment. It took him a moment before he realized the warmth was Alastor’s chest and that there were Alastor’s arms holding him firmly in place and their legs were intertwined and even though it was nothing new, he suddenly felt his heart speeding up almost in panic and he blinked in confusion on why the hell would he freak out now after more than half a year of sleeping with the demon like this.

It hit him just a little while later – because Alastor kissed him yesterday. On his own. While drunk.

Nothing happened afterwards, they just stumbled back home and Alastor was clingy and by some miracle Anthony managed to get rid of the make up and change into an oversized t-shirt before collapsing to bed with the demon draped around his torso, mumbling sweet nothings like a suave Casanova with zero experience and then they both fell asleep.

He knew Alastor had his clingy moments, usually when really, really tired, so it made sense his drunk self would be probably another extension of that behaviour. But the kiss was still unexpected, and Anthony was terrified of the consequences. He could see Alastor freaking out over it when sober, he could imagine him being distant and cold to deal with the situation, to keep Anthony on arm’s length again, and it was making him sad. He could maybe hope Alastor would draw blanks after the night, but he didn’t drink himself to stupor, so the chances of that were quite low.

He looked up to the sleeping face of his companion, relaxed and content, and just thought fuck, why is he so lovable sometimes? Why couldn’t he be more demonic, more heartless, or crueller for Anthony to keep at least his metaphorical heart to himself? Why was watching him sleep pulled so many strings in him? Why his presence was so dear and needed? Why falling in love always happened with the worst kind of person?

“Are you tryin’ to curse me, cher?”

Anthony whined and buried his face back into Alastor’s chest. Of course the fucker was awake, witnessing Anthony’s existential crisis.

“I’d recommend voodoo for dat,” the demon had no mercy. “It’s lot less messy.”

“I’m bad ad sewin’,” Anthony mumbled into the red shirt and the laugh Alastor let out rumbled in his chest like thunderstorm. His clawed hand raked through Anthony’s hair with gentleness and it was too much for his poor, weak heart.

“This is gonna sound morbid, but…” he started quietly, “I can’t wait to be dead. So I can be with ya down there.”

The hand stilled for a fraction of second before resuming its pace.

“Dis is gonna be morbid as well, but I can’t wait for you to be ded too, to be with me down dere,” Alastor’s other hand moved to rest on the small of Anthony’s back, the warmth seeping into his body like poison. “To belon’ to me and do my biddin’ any time I’d want you to.”

“Fuck, that’s kinda hot?” Anthony groaned. “Imagine talking like this in front of people though. Can’t wait for you to die already, babe! Like shit, is he a murderer? Is he gonna slice his throat in bed?”

“Romance done right.”

“Till death do us apart… for a moment, until we’re pass that phase,” Anthony couldn’t help but chuckle. Honestly, he never thought about dying as much prior meeting Alastor, like he knew it was going to happen eventually – sooner or later, it depended a lot on drugs and work and attitude – but there were no deep feelings about his life ending. Not even that much fear. But now? It was like a gateway he couldn’t wait to pass, and it was a little fucked up.

“Lookin’ forward to it,” Alastor sighed and yeah, he didn’t help, really. “Comin’ here so often is quite taxin’. I adore bein’ with you, but it would be even better when we’re both in Hell, havin’ you on my lap-,”

“On your lap?!” Anthony whipped his head up, grinning. “So yer a kinky bastard after all!”

“Nothin’ kinky about wantin’ to keep you close,” the demon was so confident all of sudden, sheesh. Was he still a little drunk? He never talked about things like these – hell, he never actually expressed his feelings toward Anthony so openly, unless it was his shadow who, instead of words, was showing him by nuzzles. Sure, it was apparent he liked Anthony at least a little, but now it scaled up so much Anthony was scared it was just a dream and he was going to wake up soon.

“On yer lap, with your dick out, huh?” Stumbled out of Anthony’s mouth, out of habit, honestly, and he immediately regretted it. Alastor, as expected, scoffed at it.

“Darlin’, we’ve talked ‘bout dis.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Anthony rested his chin on the back of his hands. It was somewhere in April, if he remembered correctly, when Alastor informed him sex was probably as interesting to him as stepping into muddy puddle and then having to clean his shoes. Anthony took it as it were – it was in their deal anyway about the intimacy and sexual stuff, so it didn’t come as much as a surprise to hear Alastor was purely asexual character. It was still fun to rile him up sometimes though. “Just want ya to know ya can do anythin’ yer want to me. Even here.”

“You’re always so sincere, cher,” Alastor’s hand previously in Anthony’s hair slid down to his cheek, gently caressing it.

“Life sucks anyway,” Anthony leaned into the touch. “Every time yer not here, it’s like it loses colours. Like yer my impulse control and when I can’t be with ya, I do stupid shit. Like drugs.”

“Lately?”

“On occasion. When alone for too long,” Anthony admitted not too proudly. It was difficult to let it go completely, no matter how Alastor filled the void. Once he was gone, the void returned. “Makes me feel better. When yer here, it’s like I’m addicted to ya and need to fill that void with somethin’ when ya leave.”

“Can’t be helped,” the demon’s thumb slid down to Anthony’s lips, the claw gently pressing down and easing up. Anthony felt an urge to lick it, but Alastor would probably smack him if he did.

“Shouldn’t ya be discouraging me?” he teased a little and Alastor raised an eyebrow.

“Do I look like an angel to you?” he asked with a tilt in his voice and Anthony shrugged.

“Yer trying to fix me.”

“To feel more confident, not a saint,” Alastor opposed and Anthony hissed when the claw cut the tender skin on his lower lip, a drop of blood appearing.

“…fair,” he hummed, watching Alastor stare at the redness with half-lidded eyes before he suddenly pulled Anthony close and licked the droplet away, making him shudder.

“I can’t let you be too much of a good boy,” the demon whispered to his lips. “Or we’d have a problem with upstairs.”

“And we don’t want that,” Anthony added breathlessly, and his partner smirked.

“We really don’t, darlin’.”

***

2020, October 9th  

It was a rare moment – rarer than seeing a rainbow after rain, but it was there. Alastor allowing Anthony to touch his hair and ears, while sitting on a couch in the living room, reading a book he brought along from hell. They were in the middle of preparing dinner but there was at least 30 minutes of downtime and Alastor thought it was the best time to study some of his hell shit, like Anthony wasn’t there, ready for a cuddle.

Unfair.

So he stood behind the couch, right above Alastor’s head and risked a gentle scrape of fingers through the red and black locks. Alastor didn’t react, which normally meant a green light for whatever Anthony was up to, so he buried his hand in his hair and while the demon made a humming noise in the back of his throat, he didn’t stop him. So he played around, twirling the strands, pulling them back, braiding some, poking the ears till they flicked, until he started pulling the hair back from Alastor’s face and from the sides into a neat ponytail he secured with a hairband he had on his wrist from his own hair care just an hour ago and left it there.

Alastor… with a ponytail. Huh.

He circled the sofa and stopped in the front, taking the sight of the new style in, and yeah, okay, that shouldn’t really make him this horny, but it did.

“Am I gonna regret lettin’ you play with my hair, darlin’?” Alastor glanced at him from the book and Anthony buried his face in his hands.

“No, but now I regret ya let me because I made ya even fuckin’ hotter,” he whined.

Alastor delivered an overkill when he rolled his sleeves up once they got back to cooking and left the ponytail be. Anthony was pretty sure he was only preparing him for the suffering in hell in his own way.

***

2020, November 11th  

The first time he had thought of taking off Alastor’s gloves were on Wednesday evening while resting his head on the demon’s legs, playing with the hem of them. He had never seen Alastor taking them off – ever. Honestly he never saw him take off about anything except of his shoes and his coat, but even when he rolled up his sleeves, he left the gloves on and Anthony thought he maybe just had a thing about touching stuff with his bare hands - some people did. He knew there were scars on Alastor’s forearms and his chest, he had seen them when he unbuttoned his shirt a little, so maybe his hands were the same and he didn’t like showing them. Alastor didn’t strike him as somebody who cared as much about other people’s opinion, but he knew appearances might be deceptive. With Alastor’s obvious control kink the image he presented himself with probably played its role.

He was dragging his nails over the fabric of the burgundy gloves with thoughtful hum and when Alastor didn’t protest in any way, he slid two fingers under the hem, touching the bare palm of the demon’s hand. Still no reaction that would mean Alastor hated it, which encouraged him to continue.

The tip of his tongue peaked out in concentration as he tried to fit more in, at which Alastor finally cleared his throat above him.

“Darlin’,” he crooned. “What’re you doin’?”

“Havin’ sex with yer hands, duh.” He wiggled his fingers a little and Alastor sighed while grabbing the offensive hand and stopped the ministrations. “Aww.”

“Leave my hands outta your crudeness,” the demon flicked his forehead instead and then rested his hand back on Anthony’s chest where it was before. It only took about ten seconds before Anthony was on it again and at that point Alastor just grabbed his wrist and held it up.

“Nooo,” the human tried to wriggle out of the hold, but the grip was inhumanly strong. “Spoilsport. It’s not like I’d do somethin’ dirty to it… maybe.”

“Whateva you say, darlin’,” Alastor didn’t budge, obviously. But at least it made Anthony think of something else when it came to Alastor’s elusive hands.

“Let’s make a deal then,” he proposed, grinning at his partner’s confused expression. “You lemme take off yer gloves. And I won’t do anything bad to yer hands.”

“Dat sounds like a rubbish deal,” Alastor shook his head. “No dice.”

“Then… what do ya want in exchange?” he batted his eyelashes seductively, which had about zero, if not minus, effect on the demon. “Imma game for anythin’.”

There was a gleam in Alastor’s eyes as if he thought of something wicked and manipulative, and then his smile widened. Anthony thought of anything – eternal enslavement, monthly donation of human souls, not talking for a week-

“I want t’ see you in a suit.”

“Say what now?”

“I’ll let you take my gloves off, but I get to see you in a suit,” came a term and Alastor was positively beaming now, which was weird, because… a suit? Was that even a proper condition? He could have just asked; it wasn’t like Anthony had an aversion to wear fully buttoned up clothing or something. Sure, he didn’t love it, but to make a deal out of it?

“I mean… sure?” The grip on his wrist disappeared and Anthony sat up, still confused. When a hand appeared with familiar green shine, he checked once more for Alastor’s happy expression and then took it, feeling the tingle running down his spine.

“Pleasure doin’ business with you, darlin’,” Alastor gently grabbed Anthony’s chin to raise up his head a little. “Now dress up. I’ll be waitin’.”

“Yer a public menace,” the human barked out a laugh but got up anyway. He was pretty sure he still had a suit from the cabaret night and could only hope it would still fit.

 It fit. He liked the suit because despite wearing it just once, it fitted him like a glove and even though he wasn’t exactly a fan of black and white setup, it had its charm once in a while. The well-tailored vest and close-fitting pants still made a nice figure and Anthony vaguely remembered the cabaret night granted him quite a bit of extra money, just because of how the pants hugged his ass (and because of his pretty face too, he was confidently sure. He didn’t even need to suck anybody’s dick that night).

He checked himself in a mirror for the last time, trying to find any imperfection he could somehow remedy, until he was completely satisfied and returned to the living room with surprisingly nervous expectations.

“No Anastasia today?” Alastor greeted him with a small smile standing near the couch, and Anthony fidgeted, not really feeling that confident in the clothes as he ironically was in the dress before.

“Wouldn’t wanna make the same joke twice, ya know,” he rubbed the back of his neck and took two more steps closer to where Alastor was standing. “Well. Here I am. In a plain boring suit just for yer viewing pleasure.”

“Pleasure indeed,” the demon looked delighted, which still baffled him, but maybe he had a thing for suits in his asexual spectrum, why not. Then he offered his hand for Anthony to take, palm up, and he realized the gloves were already off. Alastor’s hands were black as night with long, red claws gradually darkening until the blackness swallowed the colour. The obsidian shade was stopping in tendrils around his wrists like the shadows were swallowing his hands in a provocative manner and Anthony had an urge to rub his face all over it.

He must have stared for too long because the hand started pulling away and Anthony panicked with low nonono and grabbed it like a frightened animal.

“Ya can’t just flash it and then walk away with it, sheesh,” he grumbled, holding the hand in both of his and it was smooth and somehow warm, and feeling like a human hand, sort of, but at the same time not really? He couldn’t tell for sure. He wondered how it would taste if he licked it.

“You looked put off, didn’t wanna flaunt it ‘round,” Alastor’s voice cracked his concentration and it made him look up to the demon’s face in surprise. The smile he had was tight – was he self-conscious about it? In all its strangeness his hands were like some famous artist’s masterpiece, nothing to be conscious about.

“Well, ya should flaunt it around,” he said firmly. “Damn, it’s like. Really cool and kinda creepy, I like it.”

The hand visibly relaxed, the claws opened, and Anthony couldn’t stop himself anymore, he just rubbed his cheek against it like an affectionate cat and heard Alastor’s breath hitch in his throat.

Score.

“That feels so niiiice,” he purred happily. “And for just one lousy in-suit evening, ya should feel cheated.”

“Quite the opposite, darlin’,” another clawed hand joined the first one and then Alastor was holding his face on both sides, gently rubbing his cheeks, and Anthony was pretty sure he had the most dorky expression on his face right now but didn’t care. “You look dashin’.”

“Mmmhm,” Anthony grinned, and his hands covered the clawed ones and squeezed. “How ‘bout you walk back a bit.”

“Walk back?” the demon tilted his head, but did as he was told, just to lose his balance immediately after two steps when his knees hit the edge of the couch (Anthony pushed him slightly so he would fall right into sitting position, because he was a little shit and had a plan). Before Alastor could say anything else (though he didn’t look like he wanted to), Anthony sat on top of him, knees next to his thighs and took one of the blackened hand and gave the pointing finger an experimental lick.

Alastor immediately bristled like Anthony just flashed him, the static buzzing to life and off the roof, and shit, it should have scared him, but it did not. He stopped though, watching the demon with seductive smile and Alastor gradually breathed in and out and the static stopped again.

“Scary,” Anthony winked at him, still holding the hand in his, and Alastor shook his head and flexed his claws.

“You try your luck too often,” he just said in a low, warning voice.

“I know,” the human positioned the clawed hand on his chest, right where his heart was beating, vulnerable and open, and smiled. “I’m goin’ to be good from now on. Promise.”

“Moderately,” Alastor added.

“Ya know it.”

Their hands intertwined and Anthony was pretty sure during this night the defences Alastor had lowered for him once more.

***

2021, February 9th

When it came to birthdays, Anthony normally ignored them. Since almost no one knew the date, he was mostly safe to spend the day as any other, so it actually came as a surprise when Anthony brought home bouquet of roses from work (ironically from the patrons and not from co-workers, go and figure) for his birthday and put it in a vase on the table in the living room. It was rather nice of them, sure, though it only fuelled the disdain from his co-workers further. He more or less forgot about it up until Alastor showed up in the evening and noticed the newest addition.

“I thought the Lover’s day is on 14th,” Alastor watched the bouquet as if it would explode any moment, his eyes narrowed.

“Huh? Oh yeah,” Anthony peeked in from the kitchen. “Valentine’s Day is on 14th. This is cuz of my birthday.”

“Your birthday is today?” the demon left the bouquet alone and joined Anthony in the kitchen, his tone surprised. “You did not say anything.”

“Well, cuz it’s not really important,” Anthony shrugged while slicing meat. Even though he normally ignored this day, he kind of wanted to make something special for Alastor, if anything else. As a treat for himself. “Nothing worth to celebrate.”

“What a strange thing to say,” Alastor leaned with his back against the counter right next to Anthony, his expression curious. “Mortals normally enjoy celebrating their birthday. Mainly because of gifts, at least?”

“Well, I’m a special case.”

“Not enjoying gifts?” That was a stupid question. Of course Anthony enjoyed gifts as long as they were not mean or overly sexual, but along with his miserable life his birthday mostly left a bitter taste in his mouth every year.

“As much as any other John, obviously,” he glanced at Alastor with a smirk. “It’s just… not my thing. To celebrate the day I was born.”

“I see,” Alastor nodded thoughtfully. “Would it be an overstep if I said I would like to celebrate it with you?”

“You would?” Anthony stopped with the meat preparations and turned to face the demon, a weird flicker of happiness igniting in him.

“Celebrating the day you were born seems very fitting,” Alastor’s smile widened. “Otherwise we would never meet. And I treasure the moment when we did.”

“Aww,” Anthony cooed, and it was nice, to be told by the person you were crushing on.

“Though I must admit,” Alastor tilted his head to the side. “I am not entirely sure what is the norm in this century.”

“We can bake a cake?” Anthony offered. He was pretty sure he had all the ingrediencies stocked. “I guess people usually do that. Then they wish happy b-day and lots of health and good fortune or… I don’t know, I don’t usually do this shtick. They smooch maybe too. Or shake hands. Same thing for some people.”

“Oh,” Alastor looked thoughtful. “That sounds amendable.”

“Yeah, we can try-mmph?!” Out of anything that could possibly happen to him on his wretched birthday, Alastor pushing him against the counter and kissing him was definitely not one of them. Sure, they did kiss sometimes, though it was usually chaste and almost innocent?

Well, this was extremely far from innocent. This involved tongue. This was some other Alastor possessing the demon’s body, ravishing his mouth in the kitchen on his birthday while his hands cupped Anthony’s face and his thumbs were gently caressing his cheekbones, and what the hell, the gloves were off too, it made Anthony melt. Alastor was nipping on his lower lip and then diving back in, and Anthony felt his body shiver and his hands gripped the pinstriped coat in fear Alastor would stop or something, and when the demon let go of him with a last obscene lick, he realized he was basically on verge of suffocating already without his brain notifying him. He gasped for air with a shudder and Alastor joined their foreheads together, his smile small and private.

“Happy birthday, darlin’,” he purred. “Thank you for bein’ born.”

Anthony made an inhumane voice in the back of his throat and clung to his demon as if his life depended on it.

Maybe his birthday was not so bad after all.

(Later he found the bouquet in the trash and a new and much bigger one on the table instead. Alastor acted like he had no idea what happened.)

***

2024, October 1st

When Anthony thought about dying at any point of his life, it just meant the end. He didn’t know how he was going to die, but that usually changed each year. As a teenager, he wanted to commit suicide several times a year, mainly from age 15 to 17. He wasn’t sure what exactly stopped him each time, but somehow, he pulled through. In his mid-twenties it was a risk from the outer sources – too tight squeezes of hands around his neck when having sex, too many drugs in his system, too much alcohol. Once even a stab wound from his crazy ex. Granted, Anthony almost killed him back on the spot – though later he found out the fucker died in the hospital. So technically it wasn’t exactly murder? It should have been though.

Anyway. When he hit 30, he felt like his mind was on verge of breaking and any kind of distraction was strong enough to keep him occupied. He thought about death from time to time, but always stopped his hand reaching for a knife in the kitchen, thinking maybe, just maybe there is more to life than stubbornly surviving days, weeks, months of his miserable life for no reason.

At age 31 he summoned a demon and for four years his life turned to be enjoyable three times a week, and sometimes even five. He gave his heart and soul to hell for company, and fell in love with a force of nature, a whirlwind of emotions, a lovely devil. He never, ever regretted a single day spent with Alastor, a single hour, a minute, a second. Despite their occasional quarrels, their differences, and their triggers, they enjoyed each other’s company. They learned through their mistakes and they made each other stronger through the weaknesses, and while all that was slowly fading away in staccato of painful spasms and tears, Anthony still felt fondness and maybe even a twinge of happiness of his cage finally breaking free, even though it hurt like a bitch and he felt sick and alone.

It wasn’t like he wanted to die. He didn’t think 35 was some kind of milestone of life and death, a crossroad not meant to be crossed.

But he was tired. He was lonely. He wanted and craved and yearned for more of something that was out of his reach, no matter how much he tried to grab it, to pull it close.

You are still alive, mon chéri, and it is yours and only yours to live. I do not want you to regret it, no matter how much I want you with me. I might have forfeited my life, but your heart still beats. Do not waste it.

Anthony thought Alastor was being cold that day. He thought they were just words said to placate him somehow, a lie spilled to keep him here. If he wanted, if he craved like Anthony did, would he say please live to him? Right after spilling his heart? Even though they both wanted to be together? Even when they both morbidly dreamed about Anthony’s eventual death?

Now, thinking back to it… he saw what he meant. Now, when everything was turning cold and distant and dark, he realized dying at 35 is young and stupid and wasteful.

Yet he didn’t regret it. He was never going to regret selling his soul to a devil and leaving a place that only brought him pain in a ditch.

The only thing he regretted was dying alone in a dirty bathroom, but… it wasn’t like he could choose anyway.

 “There, there, darlin’.”

There were warm hands holding his face. Everything felt raw and searing, like falling through liquid fire.

“Breathe.”

He tried to, but only hacked out blood. He shook his head, curling into himself. The hands gently petted his hair.

“Now, now, my heart,” the voice cooed. “My everything. You are safe now. You belong to me.”

He felt a pain in his chest, like his heart was torn out and left a gaping chasm behind. It was like tasting despair and ash on tip of his tongue.

“Nobody will ever hurt you again, cher,” a gentle reminder, a curtain hiding the missing organ in his body, a beautiful lie. “Nobody, ever again.”

He submitted to it and the pain disappeared.

***

2024, 359th day

“I can’t believe that! Ya almost ate my pig!”

“I thought it lost its way here and it is time for dinner, it was only appropriate.”

“How dare ya! Ya monster!”

“Can you two keep it down?!” A screech came from the stairs and halted the crossfire like a switch before the owner of the voice even entered their field of vision, a fair hair flowing around a pretty face, a fierce glare seizing them. “Bloody old-married couple, do it somewhere else!”

“What she said,” a grumble agreed from the bar, and a tall, four-armed spider demon picked a small pig from the floor and cuddled it to his fluffy chest, cooing at it gently.

“Well, sorry for trying to save my little baby from this guy,” he glared at his enemy from under long, white fringe. “He’d eat him. Eat Fat Nuggets!”

“Oh dear, you already named it?” the red-eyed demon twirled his microphone in his hand, his smile widening. “You should have told me. Would adjust the name on the menu.”

“Keep talkin’, big boy, I have enough venom to make you spend your day in agony,” the spider hissed and the pig in his arms snorted happily, apparently finding all the commotion amusing. “And not the good kind.”

“I am looking forward to it, darlin’,” Alastor crooned and Vaggie made a retching noise when she finally reached the bar. Husker didn’t need her to ask for a drink, he was already pouring her one – and one for himself. It wasn’t like she condoned the bar in the hotel, but sometimes it was a much-needed way of coping, especially when it came to these two.

“Can you leave already?” she turned back towards them once she gulped the alcohol down, grimacing at the burn crawling down her throat. “Angel was talking about this for a week and now you stand here for whatever reason for half an hour, you should’ve been gone by now!”

“I wasn’t talkin’ about it for a week,” Angel shot back while pursing his lips. “Just few days, maybe.”

“A week?” Alastor crossed his arms on his chest. “Lucky. I was hearing about it since he got here.”

“Well excuse me for being sentimental,” Angel stuck his tongue at him and walked towards the bar, handing Fat Nuggets to Husker, who eyed the pig warily.

“I ain’t looking after that fucking thing.”

“Pleaaase.”

A groan, but the cat demon took it, rolling his eyes. “Last time though.”

“Sure thing, hot stuff,” Angel winked and left the bar in easy stride, joining Alastor in the middle of the hall. “Shall we?”

“Only waitin’ for you, cher,” Alastor offered his arm and Angel locked their elbows together. “You sure you don wanna take da pig with you?”

“Why?”

“A late night snack.”

“I’ll fuckin’ smack ya, stop it,” he grumbled at the laugh Alastor didn’t even bother hiding, and let the man lead them out of the hotel.

The red sky above their heads was like an everlasting void pierced by a tall, dark tower in the distance and Angel kind of liked how demons were afraid to come close to it, yet to him the place felt like home. The Radio tower came with big overlord territory and despite it being rather far from the hotel, Angel insisted on walking instead of Alastor using the portals to get them there in seconds. It just felt more date-like rather than abusing the Radio Demon powers and Alastor didn’t argue about that – which was nice because normally he argued about everything for the sport of it.

“I guess it makes sense,” Angel hummed while leaning into Alastor’s warmth on their way through the Pentagram city. “Christmas is ‘bout Jesus being born and shit. No reason to celebrate it here.”

“I was wonderin’ when you’d find out,” Alastor responded matter-of-factly. “Christmas bein’ a big Christian secret.”

“Har har,” the spider demon nudged him. “I’m new, don’t make fun of me. Can’t help I miss it.”

“Of course you miss it,” Alastor freed himself from Angel’s hold, just to sneak his arm around his waist, pulling him closer. “It’s when you met me.”

“Yer so fuckin’ cocky, maybe I just miss the presents,” Angel crossed his upper arms on his chest, but his lower one curled around Alastor’s waist as well.

“I’m da only present you’ll ever need~,” the Radio demon singsonged and Angel barked out a laugh.

“Guess that’s not completely wrong,” he admitted and when he felt a hand on the back of his neck, he met Alastor’s lips halfway in a chaste kiss, both not even stopping on their way to the tower.

“You’re da only one for me too,” Alastor whispered softly. “My dear Anthony.”

Angel couldn’t help but think life is fucking overrated when your boyfriend is owning your heart in all kinds of ways.

[original-idiots]

Party at Wally’s: Waynes Social Media (Jason x OC)

“Augh!” Duke coughs as the alcohol burns a line down his throat. The others around him laugh, Tim patting his back and Cass holds out a bottle of water for him. “Why do you guys like that stuff so much?!”

Roy downs another cup next to him. “Are you kidding me? This watered down piss is better than the finest wine around technobat.” He grabs another cup and points at Duke. “Because you’re drinking it with friends and not some rich assholes.”

“Anything gets better when you’re not doing it at some stuffy-ass gala full of high society snobs.” Jason says into his cup and Dick coughs into his cup, spluttering and laughing, soaking himself with alcohol to mix in to the sharp scent of chlorine still sticking to him. It isn’t even that funny but at this point the chaotic energy bouncing between them is enough to make anyone of them break into fits of pure, delighted laughter.

Steph raises a brow at Jason as she hands Babs a towel for Dick and takes one for herself. The hem of her shirt and jeans are still dripping. “You guys belong to a family that sits at the top of snobby high society.”

“We’re adopted,”

Dick does another spit take but Wally’s darts forward, turning him around to direct the spray on the grass instead. “Easy Jay, you’re gonna break him.” Wally laughs.

“Tim and Adri?” Cass asks, so quiet before now that Roy jumps and spews his drink when her voice comes from over his shoulder. Wally is just as surprised, not fast enough to move before he takes the brunt of the shitty dollar store liquor to the face. “They’re high society.”

Jason considers it. “Well I dont know about the coffee gremlin-“

“Fuck you Jay.”

“But,” Jason trails off, spotting Adri as she comes out of Wally’s house. As she passes people she greets them or stops for short moments to exhange pleasantries, ever the image of a perfect socialite even in a rowdy house party. Her conversation is perfect no doubt, her smile as genuine as the one creeping onto Jason’s face, beyond his awareness. The other exchange a knowing look.

Adri is an exception.

Jason pulls her to his side the moment she’s near, kissing her hair. “You took too long.”

“Missed me so soon?” Adri asks, giving out the water. She gives them all a curious look. “What did you guys talk about?”

Wally shrugs. “Oh nothing.”

“Just the fact that Dick can’t hold his alcohol.” Babs saves them, smiling at Dick as he feigns disbelief and hurt.

Dick puts a hand over his heart. “Excuse you. It’s not my fault I like to laugh Barbara!” He pouts and if they didn’t know him well enough they’d attribute the childishness to intoxication; but this is Dick Grayson. “I’m pretty sure I’m a better drinker than most- no, all of you.”

“Them’s fightin words there circus boy,” Stephanie starts to grin, a glint in her eye and a challenge on the tip of her tongue. “I propose a bet!”

Tim shakes his head. “Nope.”

“Sans Tim!” Steph raises a finger, issuing a decree. “And Wally because of speedster metabolism- no arguments- we have a competition to see who’s the best drinker slash partier! Questions?”

Adri raises a hand. “Is this really a good idea?”

“Of course not but we’re a bunch of uber competitive fucks with nothing better to do. Who’s in?!”

Dick puts a hand down. “Can’t back down now that it’s a bet. Especially since I know I’m gonna win.”

“You’re gonna eat those words Dickiebird,” Jason grins, putting his own hand in.

Babs joins in next, Roy abstains with the reasoning that he has patrol in a few hours then Tim (“whatever, might as well”), Cass, Adri hesitates, and Stephanie swats Duke’s hand away before he can. “Ow!”

“Sorry Duke. Bruce will already be pissed at us, he’ll be doubly pissed if we get you drunk before you’re legal.” Steph doesn’t apologize, just explains the rules and assigns him as judge and watcher to make sure they follow. “And, you get to do documentation.”

That catches his attention. “You mean take pictures of all of you wasted? Deal.”

“That’s the spirit!” Jason claps him on the shoulder before grinning at Adri. “You’re gonna keep me in check, yeah love?

“Not if she’s joining us, she isn’t.” Dick raises a brow at her. “Whaddaya say song bird? You in?”

Adri looks between them. Their smiles are eager, goading, save for Jason‘s that is more asking than challenging. Regardless she sighs, putting her hand in.

“I have a bad feeling about this.”

The Aftermath

[punkscowardschampions]

America & Libi

America: This is gonna sound thirsty as hell cos it is 👌 America: your boyfriend's friend, Sean America: do I have a shot? Libi: 😂 Thirst away, I know he would be SO flattered Libi: Bobby isn't MY boyfriend, but that's by the by and so not why you're in my inbox right now Libi: well, he isn't dating anyone, that I know of, I'll ask Bobby to confirm but I'm like 99% sure Libi: and of course he thinks you're cool, you guys would be a sweet match America: He ISN'T? I thought - never.mind 🤫 America: anywayyy America: did he say I was cool? LOL yeah I really feel it now Libi: Everyone says that, don't worry Libi: we're just best friends Libi: Awh, don't be silly! I'm not going to go tell him word for word Libi: like that's not an exact quote but I know the few times we've hung out all together he's had a good time, specifically hanging out with you America: if you're gay I'm like really sorry for getting your hopes up with my thirsty opener! America: Sean does not deserve that quick of a U-turn from me Libi: Not, so you're totally cool and not on the gay girl shit-list Libi: not for this anyway, I don't know who is, officially Libi: He talked about your party for AGES after Libi: even though that got cut short 😕 did you get in so much trouble? America: The reaction from my sister alone would be reason to do it but I don't think I can commit that hard to you & that idea America: maybe if Sean says no America: I hope he didn't say anything about that part of the party when he was talking about it or I'll have to go crawl in a hole America: or bury my mam's boyfriend in one America: did you get to have any fun? I literally don't remember seeing you when we left your house Libi: Well, she is my biggest fan Libi: who's 💔 is theoretically worse, hers or mine rn? Libi: Just what we were all thinking Libi: which was that we thought that guy might keel over if he didn't 🤐 sooner rather than later Libi: so I'm glad you're already making funeral plans though not because that must suck Libi: no, we had a good time, lost in the crowd seems like the answer America: Jake is the only one with any power to 💖✂ her, don't worry, & she's my biggest fan for pointing out on the regs he's a waste of unblemished skin America: we were making all kinds of plans before she got 🍆💫 America: guess I'm on my own with keeping the good times coming ➜ Libi: 🤨 I'm not sure I've heard him say anything interesting before Libi: It's usually a lot of posing and preening, right Libi: but who am I to judge America: 🤣 I'm on the classroom floor rolling America: neither of them are looking for intellectual stimulation from each other Libi: 😅 Apologies to your teacher Libi: I'll pretend my 😳 is paint America: Miss visibly wants to get me diagnosed with something, it's a long-running thing we have going Libi: Like it makes them any more equipped to deal when they have a name for something Libi: must be a funding issue Libi: but that's a rant for another day 🤓 America: Sean is gonna have his work cut out now America: get your not boyfriend to tell him, game on, but he's in competition with you Libi: I'll go easy on him 😉 Libi: oh, and he is 100% single and 100% tried to read that message so America: misbehaviour puts him back in the 🏃 Libi: Damn Libi: Would helping you have a meet-cute with him bizarrely help my case? America: how cute? sharing in my sister's delusions is a turn off Libi: I don't think he's that kind of guy Libi: BUT it would not be weird for me to bring you along to hang with my not boyfriend and it wouldn't be any weirder if he asked Sean, casually America: which means what I've been thinking about him is right America: & you don't have to be disqualified for trying to drag me into some fake paradise where everyone is in love with themselves Libi: I mean, like all boys Libi: or most, I would be asked to ** in Libi: he talks a bigger game than he has, but I mean that in the best possible way, honestly Libi: he's nicer than he can sometimes sound, you know what I mean? America: me too, I hope Libi: You sound nice Libi: thirst and all America: I scared you away before, couldn't let that happen before I got what I wanted from you Libi: No, that was your mum's fella Libi: I promise Libi: I'm just not a party pro America: that's what I mean, before at your 🏠 I could tell you two were out of your depth Libi: I hope you didn't take it as a personal, you and your party thing though America: it wasn't my party Libi: Sorry, no doubt she'd be 😤 over my lack of distinction there Libi: you know what I mean America: I'm just a guest that she didn't really want there, like you Libi: I don't get the whole sibling thing Libi: only child perk and curse, I guess Libi: but I'm not anti-party or anti-you, for the record Libi: just less initiated America: & I'm not anti-anyone cos Chi is, putting that on the record while we're stating facts Libi: Fair enough 🤝 Libi: I don't take it personally from her, also btw Libi: how she has been about Bobs, moreso but that's not on you so like ❌ America: she acts like she burst out of her crib knowing how to do a smoky eye & what shots she liked best America: you've got time to get initiated if you want to America: & yeah, I know she's a dick about anyone not in her ⬛ of perceived coolness Libi: I've got very little shame in how far away from a smoky eye I was as a kid 😂 Libi: She's not the only one Libi: ⬛ are boring Libi: more boring than I probably seemed that night Libi: 🤞 America: I thought you were just 😍💖 America: that's a lot of people in my life right now though so that's probably why Libi: Oh God, you do not need to tell me Libi: I feel like EVERYONE is suddenly, it's wild America: & now me jumping into your inbox America: what's in the water? Libi: I'm sure the Bio teachers are screaming hormones right now Libi: 😬 gross but true America: Whatever the reason, I didn't mean to contribute to the 💖💣 in your face Libi: You're so beyond fine Libi: not anti-love Libi: or a nun America: you'd be in luck if you were, we aren't calling this love Libi: 😍💖? Libi: Gotcha America: interest America: the 1st I've broadcast Libi: Worth pursuing Libi: I hope I've helped confirm, anyway America: maybe we'll end up just friends like you & Bobby or < America: but I think he's worth pursuing Libi: no harming in 👀 or trying, right America: for the right people Libi: I'll drink to that Libi: not right RIGHT now though because that is paintbrush water and I've made that mistake before 🤢 America: vivid flashbacks to your pre-party drinking face America: shock & disgust Libi: Oh nooooooo 😭 Libi: really sold myself as life of the 🥳 Libi: 😂🙄 America: It wasn't any different for me, if you'd be there to see it Libi: No one is doing it for the taste yet are they Libi: I refuse to believe America: I don't think anyone's doing it for the taste ever America: wine or whiskey snobs only wanna show off America: & that's grown adults Libi: My granddad would be so offended 😅 America: If he wants to try & change my mind, I'll come over Libi: Sounds fun Libi: but also like a potential way for him to lose his license so maybe we'll keep it between us America: Why can't he use his words without bringing the 🍷🥃? America: it's like those people who are all about how 🌶🌶🌶 or rare something is America: you wish you were 💪 we understand Libi: I didn't know you just wanted a debate but that's cool too Libi: come over any time, like America: it's off the table at my house America: he'll start blowing a whistle & stop all verbal communication soon America: not a nun either so I assume I won't be into it Libi: Yikes, he should try getting a 🐶 or two Libi: even then, probably be disappointed, soz America: I'll pitch the idea as long as it ends in disappointment Libi: if he doesn't love puppies you know he's not the one America: I know that about him already America: What's Sean's stance? Libi: Good question Libi: I shall 💬 America: don't lie to score points yourself, I'll find out Libi: [so many dog pictures which clearly aren't just her and Killer but her and Twix and Bobby too] Libi: ➕ America: OMG Libi: Yeah 😎 Libi: they're old ladies now but they were puppies once [a throwback we just have] America: Miss is gonna live for this U-turn from 🤣 to 🥺 America: name that personality disorder, bitch Libi: Looking like a poor taste budget horror Libi: LOVE that America: get my good side with that 📹 of yours Libi: but every personality Libi: Got this 🎬 America: every personality's best bits Libi: I wish I could fix everything in post Libi: life would be so ✨ America: edit out Gary America: make Chi less of a cow America: make my other sister reappear Libi: So wild to me how your sister used to be 'round my grandma's at the same time I was and I really can only just remember those days Libi: what is she up to now? America: 😍💖 Libi: Ah Libi: of course Libi: like everyone else in the world America: but you know, with a rented flat & office job Libi: The grown-ups version Libi: I feel you America: I don't know what the fuck we're calling what my mam is playing at America: but yeah, give my sister more grown up points than that Libi: How long has he been on the scene, Gary? America: too long LOL America: but that'd be 1 date in his case Libi: I can't imagine how awkward that must be when it's your mum and your house Libi: it's bad enough when a friend or an auntie or something dates a dickhead America: she's dated fuckwits for as long as she's dated America: but they don't usually see a month in Libi: I'll 🤞 he's gone sooner rather than later America: Thanks Libi: You're okay, right? Libi: That might be weird to ask America: I guarantee it's weirder to answer Libi: You don't have to, that was out of line Libi: but if you wanted to, I wanted to give you the chance, even though all I can do is listen Libi: but we can as easily leave it America: I'm 👌 in the sense that he's probably not gonna murder us all in our beds Libi: That's always something America: but if your grandad decides to leave your nan, I'm down to move in & have nightly debates Libi: It's been nearly 60 years so Libi: he's either overdue or change or you're out of luck Libi: but you're still invited to come crash when you need America: unless Sean makes me a better offer, you win Libi: Of course, of course America: unlikely, I can't really open with please rescue me Libi: Might be a bit strong Libi: but the spare room doesn't come with any of those connotations America: Can I have the dog too? Libi: She'll have to decide for herself, it would be rude for me to Libi: but she's pretty chill as long as you give her treats or attention so it's likely America: What's her name? Libi: Killer Libi: I did not name her America: 😶 I don't really get to say anyone's got a shit name anyway Libi: What's in a name, the English teachers will chime in America: music teacher would probably say a lot Libi: **harmonize it, please America: [does as if we're not fully in class rn] Libi: Brava! 👏 Libi: so much better than whatever 'painting' I've managed this lesson, whoops America: that'll be my L to take for not shutting up America: sorry to your 🎨 Libi: We'll all survive, even if this not-masterpiece does not 🗑 Libi: painting is not my thing anyway America: I never got prime fridge real estate America: as an only child, you would Libi: Only child, technically, but my grandparents have ALL the grandkids, so it didn't always work out like that America: my nan has the same favourite as my mam so 🤷 America: consistency 🎊🎉 Libi: I don't need 3 guesses Libi: why is it Libi: is she most like them or what America: 👼 America: blue eyed, blonde haired fucking wonder America: my entire family IS that shallow Libi: Well I can say blue eyes are overrated and you can say blonde hair is America: skipping over the 🚩 of taking German when my family are basically neo-Nazis Libi: will have to get you out of my DMs stealth if that one rings true Libi: no negotiating America: I don't want to do the cliché plea of how different I am but like, in this instance, it holds up Libi: I'll hear it America: how does a girl prove she's not a Nazi around here? 💭 Libi: 😂 Can you prove/disprove a negative is a big 💭 Libi: too big for before lunch, I think America: Gary's existence proves a negative Libi: 📢🔥 Libi: He felt that America: 💖✂ Libi: If that's the order of the day, I'm not mad Libi: have played cupid once here so America: What about you? Libi: What about me? America: There's absolutely no 😍💖? Libi: Oh, nah Libi: not right now 🤷 America: Then you probably can't answer my kissing questions America: I think that practising on my hand has to be movie propaganda but pretending it'll be perfect & I won't 🤤 all over anyone has to be too Libi: I could try Libi: I've had some but maybe not recently enough to experience counts? America: this close to picking up a 🎸 & opening the floor for them but my sister would KILL me Libi: and Miss would fully be staging an intervention before you could get any decent ones America: even though she's literally a teacher & I'm asking to be taught something Libi: The hypocrisy 😏 Libi: I think the less you think about it the easier it is Libi: which is such non-advice I know America: 👌 have a drink & just do it Libi: lowkey, yeah Libi: nerves never help a performance, right Libi: sure your teacher would have to agree on that one America: Did I agree to putting on a show for him? 👌 I see how it is Libi: 😲 Libi: not what I meant America: No? Libi: I mean, do what you wanna Libi: but not sure he warrants that much effort yet America: 🤣 America: I hope he didn't feel that 💖✂ Libi: It's not shade so it's okay Libi: I covered that he's nice before I went there 🙃 America: Did he go out with Michelle? Libi: Our sources say yes Libi: couple of months America: A couple of months seriously or casually? You were there Libi: I think he thought it was more serious than it was Libi: but I don't think he's looking for that America: & they're 100% over, no hang ups Libi: Totally America: cos she seems cool, I'm not trying to start something Libi: She's chill Libi: he's a free agent Libi: and he's interested too, for sure America: the interrogation can stop 🎊🎉 it's not making me look very chill Libi: I'll never tell Libi: plus you've distracted me from a boring lesson so it's okay Libi: a favour, really America: I can tell you're an only child America: my sisters would use anything I said or did or almost said or did against me if they can Libi: Damn, should I be keeping these in my backpocket? America: realistically Libi: SO bad at this Libi: I'm a slightly better friend 🤞 America: Being somewhere in the middle of a total dick & and a good friend, I'm not the right person to help you get better at either America: partying though America: if you ever want Libi: It would be useful Libi: not gonna lie Libi: as you got what you wanted, like America: I'll knock for you Libi: 👍 Bobby can come too, right? America: yeah, he can join in too America: I won't insist that he kisses me but pitch the idea Libi: I'll 🏏 America: There's always something going on, even with my house being not enough like a morgue but simultaneously too much like a morgue Libi: Halloween isn't the only time for costume parties 👻🧛👽🤖 America: I knew I fucked with you Libi: 😏 Libi: people who think costume parties suck have 0 imagination America: or only wanna look a certain way Libi: that too Libi: heaven forbid you have fun and don't just sit there 😘 America: if Chi didn't feel that, I'll be the one 💖✂ Libi: you can always say it yourself and take credit Libi: on me America: ghost writer, there's a costume in that America: she doesn't just sit there honestly, but it's not about having fun, she'll do fucking anything but it's to keep everyone looking at her Libi: I guess that accounts for some of it Libi: Middle child syndrome is a costume too Libi: if a little abstract America: Favourite child too, but she's got too much wear out of that one as is Libi: No repeats America: worse crimes have been committed than tiara recycling Libi: Maybe Libi: but it's close America: you've got jokes America: I don't think you really need me to teach you anything to be fun at 🥳 America: I predict some kind of 📹 prank is about to happen to me Libi: If youtube pranks are still fun and cool, I'm gonna have to ❌ that because yikes Libi: I just, there's a lot of it that everyone else does that I don't see the point to Libi: for me, anyway America: You don't have to do things that everyone else is doing Libi: Technically Libi: I don't think everyone else is the PSA enabler friend/peer pressure pusher or anything Libi: but it does other you if you don't join in, to a degree, with a lot of it America: 👌 so when we get to your limit, stop me Libi: Okay Libi: but don't go easy just because this all makes me sound about 7 America: Miss wouldn't have oppositional defiant disorder on her diagnosis checklist if I went easy on anyone Libi: 😂 Libi: She's really gone through psychology today yeah America: she's clearly so bored America: & wishing she had talent to scout America: I literally can't have that cos I don't see teachers as authority figures in the first place Libi: Delusions of grandeur ✔ for her America: 🤣 America: sorry you can't control me bitch, call Gary & compare notes Libi: Maybe Gary should bring in his CV America: we'd both love to see more of each other Libi: Of course Libi: and he's the ideal candidate for hapless teacher #46 who can't control their class America: if he ended up 🤯 my mam would 😍😗 the little neck stump America: she's that far gone Libi: Again, I only have experience by-proxy Libi: but that usually ends up 🤯 everything else Libi: so I 👂 America: You heard right in my experience America: my da's got enough left of him to sign a cheque, I picture him like that Adam's family hand Libi: [does the clicks in a boomerang type thing] America: nailed it! Libi: You know Libi: didn't want to be the girl who makes everything about her dead parents Libi: but arguably I'm the proof of everything going 🤯 so I do know a little bit about it America: Shit sorry! I forgot Libi: Don't be Libi: it's good it's not like, forefront of the facts you can recall on me, if anything America: I know what you mean, from a family of attention seeking whores isn't how I like to advertise myself Libi: I'm sure I could make a claim for that title too according to the masses Libi: but neither of us need to 📢 America: send my apologies to Sean if that's what he was expecting America: I do need attention but it doesn't have to be sexual specifically, as Miss can testify Libi: I should HOPE she can America: She plays hard to get, for all her therapizing Libi: She in the 🏃? America: only in the fantasy land she's created Libi: Bless her Libi: any way to kill the day is this place's motto, I think America: 🎼 school song if I do some more harmonising 🎹 Libi: 🌹👏 America: Due credit to you & your ideas America: I couldn't be happier it's not a 😍💖 song Libi: Likewise Libi: so it's worth it and you're welcome Libi: I can give Sean your number, I presume? America: & any screenshots you've taken as mean girl practice Libi: Only the worst bits, obvs Libi: 😘 America: my ugliest sides 👺👺 America: Still not a nazi btw, I just realised the 👃 and brows are a bit anti-Jewish propaganda Libi: 🤔 What if you realizing that is racist though? Libi: conundrum America: well fuck Libi: Hypothetically though Libi: goes a bit beyond mean girl territory to accuse you of racism/fascism America: slightly yeah Libi: thus I would NEVER Libi: 😎 only America: you've seen Gary so you know my hatred isn't rooted in anything racist there America: 🎊🎉 Libi: Can back you up there Libi: nothing but warranted and fair America: Thanks Libi: Has he 💬 yet or is he playing it cool? America: Cool or his teacher is a dick 📴 America: hopefully he's not in a lesson with my sister, that'll turn him off Libi: Not ideal Libi: She's probably changed all her classes to match Jake's, right? America: 🤮 Libi: Too real America: the upside of Gary's regime is that I don't have to see Jake at my house on the regs Libi: Upside? Libi: That's the WHOLE appeal America: 👏 You're not one of the 'everybody' Chi thinks is obsessed with him 🎊🎉 Libi: I don't even know him, in reality Libi: so I probably shouldn't 💬 on him but the only times I've heard him speaking he's been being dismissive or rude so Libi: meh America: Nobody knows him in reality, they live a bubble 🏰👑 America: but when you party, you'll get to know him America: what a fuckwit he happily presents himself as Libi: 😰 Libi: as long as that's in the bottom 3 of the experience, not top, then it won't put me off the 🥳 as a whole America: don't worry, you're too pretty to have to hear the full 💯 Libi: ❓❓❓ America: I just mean, he'll frame it like a compliment for you, so it'll be easier to take or brush off Libi: Compliments don't mean much when they come from an arsehole Libi: 🤷 America: I know Chi didn't feel that Libi: We've all got our taste, I guess Libi: or lackthereof Libi: I'm making myself sound more and more like a nun by the minute America: Not gonna insist that you prove you're not Libi: 🤞 it'll become clear Libi: obvious lack of habit aside America: Excellent wordplay Libi: Do my best Libi: though as it's art, not english, probably not appreciated by anyone but you rn America: Graffiti is words a lot of the time & that's art Libi: That's a good point Libi: I'll have to see if he goes for it America: Good luck Libi: Do you like high school so far? America: maybe that's supposed to be a weirder question than if I'm okay, but I lowkey do like it Libi: Me too 🙃 Libi: Primary was really boring by the end America: I thought everyone would treat me like a giant baby but I've made so many cool older friends already America: & I refuse to give my sister credit for them ALL Libi: Yeah, I thought the same thing Libi: apart from the usual dickheads being like that to everyone whatever the reason, everyone's been pretty chill Libi: and it's nice that we have SOME say over what we take now, instead of just doing a bit of everything America: My even older sister, from your flashbacks, made this place seem really different America: in a bad way Libi: SAME Libi: not your older sister, that would be random Libi: my aunties and stuff made it sound like literal HELL though America: She is a LOL random type, honestly, I'd believe it Libi: 😂 Libi: No DM slides from either sister, we're 👌 America: that'll happen when she finds out you pimped me to Sean Libi: 😬 Libi: well when you put it like THAT America: jk she hasn't threatened anyone on my behalf since everyone was over my OUTRAGEOUS lies about who my da was & I got doxxed to prove how 🥱 he is America: Primary really did get boring by the end Libi: Like I said, no imagination America: what was your favourite lie of mine? Everyone's got one Libi: 🤔 Libi: Long haul lorry driver Libi: because it seemed the most realistic so everyone thought that one was true America: I tripped myself up when I added he witnessed that 🚽 murder Libi: Right Libi: and then suddenly it was all along route 66 Libi: 👎 America: it was a better naming story than my mam's real reasons, I stand by that Libi: Was she a big traveller or wishes she was? America: this would be the PERFECT time for an elaborate lie Libi: Feel free America: you're expecting it now Libi: Suppose that does take away most of the fun Libi: Everyone thought I made up all the stuff about my parents too America: Why didn't you? Libi: That's the thing, probably would've been more comfortable for everyone if I did, honestly Libi: guess the details made it seem unbelievable enough but it just didn't cross my mind, really Libi: I was just wanting to 💬 about them all the time when I was little America: I remember that! Not saying you inspired me to become a pathological liar with how cool it all sounded though America: I probably wouldn't even if Chi hadn't be so mad you gatecrashed her birthday party Libi: 😏 See, can't say I couldn't hang America: she'll still try to but she's said worse Libi: To be expected America: like a text from Sean Libi: Let's not get it twisted though Libi: not excited for it America: 😐 is me Libi: What emoji can I be/ America: 🥳 when I'm done with you, bitch Libi: 😂 I accept America: ask your not boyfriend when he's down & slide into my dms Libi: I will Libi: You can hit up Sean and ask him when he hits you up, finally Libi: I think he's gonna hit you up just after lunch Libi: to show he's casual America: 🐁🐈 America: I'll resist the urge to throw myself at him before then America: to show I understand how this all works Libi: Very mature Libi: or actually, not, but we have to get down to boy's levels America: he's about at our level right now, I think that's how the age gap works Libi: That's fair Libi: there's a lot of lads who still think we're diseased or are more interested in whatever game they are rn America: yeah, I don't know how much he knew about me before we met but there's no escaping that we only just got here America: an age based lie isn't happening Libi: No, that's not working Libi: I don't think you need to lie though Libi: he clearly wants to get to know you more too or I'd be awkwardly letting you down right now, right America: unless you're either too nice to do it or mean enough to want to see me make a twat of myself Libi: 🧐 Libi: Have to see, but I am neither, for the record America: catch me on the rebound 🕷🕸 Libi: All part of the plan America: I'll partner up with you in PE, give you a chance to make your move America: the seating plan'll fuck you over for the rest America: really would look like a nazi if I force Bekah to give up her seat for me like I'm your new BFFL America: 💖💣 Libi: Maybe we don't bring up the 2nd N word around her, like Libi: otherwise she's gonna be cool America: 👌 I'll 🤫 America: no casual German dropped into the conversation Libi: You wanna sit next to each other in German though Libi: the boy I sat next to is 🥱😴 America: The boy I sit next to did fall asleep recently so yeah America: I need to know if I'm 🥱 or he's 😴 & it's not about me Libi: 👋 It's a date Libi: 😘 jk America: they do like it when we roleplay America: 💐🕯🍷

[tisfan]

Accountability

Title: Accountability Square: K2 - Bucky Barnes / Winter Soldier Warning: coffee shop AU, unrepentant fluff Pairing: Tony Stark/Bucky Barnes Summary: Tony wants to have a stable relationship by New Year’s Eve. Well, Bucky’s here to hold him accountable. Link: A03 Word Count: 2,199 For @tonystarkbingo and @aoifelaufeyson

A/n - not responsible for tooth decay.

“Coffee, Black, extra, extra large. And put a few shots in it,” Bucky’s first customer of the day said.

“Resolution?”

“Ton- what?”

“What’s your resolution, for New Years,” Bucky asked.

“You’re going to write that on my cup? You know you’re going to have people in here fighting for the cup of ‘go to the gym more’ by ten a.m.”

“It’s called accountability,” Bucky said, loftily. “If everyone sees you in the coffee shop with -- what did you say it was?”

“I didn’t. But-- I’d-- I had a shitty night, and my New Year’s kiss was a joke. I’d like to have a real relationship, this year.”

“Get a significant other,” Bucky wrote dutifully on the cup, then Bl, xxg 2sh on the side under it.

He handed the cup off to Sam, who started pulling shots and getting the drink line moving. Wanda rang up the sale, and Bucky went on to the next customer, who, true to SO’s prediction, had lose twenty pounds as their resolution. Not gonna happen if you keep drinking large lattes, extra whip, sugar.

Bucky’s idea started conversations; at least half a dozen people pulled out their phones when Call Mom More Often picked up her Americano. Two people found workout or walking partners. People lingered in the shop to talk about it; lingering people bought more coffee or muffins. And word spread, the way it tended to do. By lunch, the line was thirty deep.

“Man, I hate you,” Sam said, as Bucky passed yet another cup along.

(more under the cut)

Get an SO came up at least three times to get a refill, spending most of the morning poking his tablet industriously, taking advantage of the free wifi. In the relatively dead period just after lunch, while Bucky was clearing off tables, he asked, “So, how do you go about keeping people accountable?”

“Really? I don’t,” Bucky said. He picked up the chair, turned it around and straddled it. “You do it. Once you say it, and someone says it back to you, it’s halfway to being a fact.”

“Is that a fact?”

“It’s psychology,” Bucky said. “The power of saying things outloud.”

“Which is why you… work in a coffee shop, instead of having an office and clients on your couch?”

Bucky only chuckled. “I’m still in school, hot shot. Plus, I like my job. Talking to customers, getting to know people. Testing my threshold for some wall street tool’s dickish behavior. Means I’ll be able to handle him when he’s in my chair, wondering why he still ain’t got a date.”

Sig Other waved a hand near his forehead. “Yeah, okay, you got me. We’re square now?”

“Actually, no,” Bucky said. “Tell you what, why don’t you prove you’re being accountable. Bring your first dates here. Coffee shop meet ups are the thing, and I’ll see you’re taking my advice seriously.”

“You’re going to give me dating advice?”

“You can tell a lot about a person from what they order at the coffee shop,” Bucky told him.

“And what, pray, does my order say about me?”

“Mostly? That you should probably get more sleep. That whatever you do keeps you busy; you don’t have time to be fussy about your coffee. Black’s easy. Hard for someone else to fuck it up. You don’t strike me as the kind of coffee snob who wants black because he pretends he knows shit about the beans and roasting. You probably drink red wine, or scotch. Forget to eat more than you want to admit. And you don’t have very many close friends.”

By the time he was done bullshitting the guy -- playing Sherlock was fun, but it was no more true than Wanda and her tarot cards -- Sig Other’s eyes were huge.

“Okay, you convinced me,” he said. “I’ll bring my dates in. You tell me which ones to bring back.”

Bucky hadn’t actually expected Sig Other to come back, much less return with a date. He wasn’t even sure, after the first week of January was over, that he’d have remembered the guy. Waiting on more than five hundred customers a day, it took a lot of repeat business before he usually recognized anyone in more than that vague way of seeing thousands of faces. Even longer before he knew names.

But orders, for whatever reason--

“Oh, hey, Extra Grande, black, right?”

Those brilliant brown eyes, almost the same color as the heart of an espresso pull, lit up. “Hey, it’s the Accountability Guru,. Yeah, please. And--” He gestured and a very lovely woman stepped up behind him.

She was willow, brunette, and way overdressed for a coffee date. Her haircut probably cost more than Bucky made in tips during the day. She glanced up from her phone for a few moments to ponder the menu. “Raspberry latte,” she said. “With the art on it? And a biscotti.”

Bucky wrote the orders down, passed them on. “Do the swan,” he told Wanda. She was the best latte artist they had, not that many people bothered to look into their cups before heading out the door. Might as well give Sig Other a head start, right?  

He watched them between customers, Sig Other keeping a proper date-space for a first meeting, asking questions and appearing interested in her answers.

When she bothered to give them. Mostly she poked her phone. Took a picture of her latte. A selfie. A picture with Sig. Cackled over some responses to her social media of choice. Tipped her screen toward Sig a few times so he could share in the joke.

They stayed about twenty minutes, and then she got up and he saw her to the door and her taxi. A moment later, he was leaning on the pastry counter.

“No,” Bucky said, flatly.

“No?”

“She was dressed way too nice,” Bucky said. “She expected you to wine and dine her. She’s in it for the money. I assume there is some?”

“You could say,” Sig said. “You didn’t like her? She seemed friendly to me.”

“Oh, yeah, sure,” Bucky said, then turned his phone toward Sig. “She dissed out my coffee artist. Real friendly.”

It hadn’t taken him long to find the instagram, not when she tagged the shop by name. Run of the mill coffee art. There was more, mostly talking about her date, but Bucky didn’t bother to read that.

“I thought the swan was clever,” Sig said.

“Well, I don’t want to brag, but Wanda’s competed at the WBC, she’s not run-of-the-mill.”

“How is it bragging, when you’re praising her?”

“You want one to go?” Bucky asked, changing the subject.

“Yeah--” Sig paused a moment, then, “It’s Tony, thanks.”

Sam nudged him. “Your boy’s got another one.”

Bucky flicked his cigarette and took a long drag. “I’m on break. Another socialite?”

“Naw, if it was that boring shit, I’dda left you out here. He’s got a dude with him this time,” Sam said.

Bucky swallowed his mouthful of smoke and then choked on it. Well, that changed everything, didn’t it?

Except it didn’t.

“You oughta quit that nasty habit,” Sam said, and Bucky waved him off.

He snubbed his butt and tossed it in the ashbin out back. The alley was gross and smelled like stale coffee and rotten muffins, but at least he was allowed to smoke there. There weren’t lots of places left that allowed it.

Went inside, snuck a peek at the line. Sure enough, there was Tony, about ten back, with a good-looking blond guy. Like, underwear model good looking. And then Bucky got a better look at his face. Oh, god. That guy.

“Is that--”

“Yep.”

“What are we talking about?” Wanda wanted to know.

“Don’t bother trying to get blondie’s coffee right,” Sam told her. “He’ll spend the next twenty minutes telling you what you did wrong. Just pour him a cup and some cream, and then make him what he actually ordered. He never accepts the first one. No point in wasting your time.”

Tony got his usual, and then spend a moment behind blondie’s back making the ‘look at his guy’ gesture with both hands. Bucky’s mouth tipped up in his the customer is always full of shit smile.

Bucky poured Tony’s coffee, pulled a shot, and went around the side of the counter to give it to him, while blondie was describing how to put half a pump of sweetner in his cup. “Really? This guy? I didn’t know you were into dudes, or I wouldn’t have suggested that you give Heather another date last month.”

“Yeah, no I figured that out when we had a little discussion about Freddie Mercury,” Tony said. “You knew?”

Bucky bobbed his chin around. “I suspected. She’s said some shit, but-- eh. Some people just have a little bi-prejudice, doesn’t affect anybody much, unless they’re dating someone who is bi. Besides, she ticked off all your other boxes.”

“Well, if she’s not going to want to have a relationship because I might have, at some point, touched some other guy’s dick, then the rest of the boxes don’t matter.”

Trust Tony to say something like that, while Bucky was already thinking about the fact that Tony was actually into guys. Bucky shifted uncomfortably. Getting a chub while at work was awkward.

“So what’s wrong with Ty?” Tony looked over again, watching as Ty walked Wanda through the steps of pulling a shot, like she’d never done it before.

“He’s a mansplainer,” Bucky said. “He always knows everything, better than everyone.”

Tony chuckled. “I am, in actual facts, a genius.”

“Won’t matter,” Bucky said. “He’s the expert.”

“Could be good for a romp,” Tony said. “Experts can be great lovers.”

“Until he starts telling you everything you’re doing wrong,” Bucky pointed out.

Tony looked offended, although Bucky wasn’t sure if it was directed at him, or at Ty for not-yet-occurring critique of Tony’s bed skills. “We’ll see,” Tony said.

“You’re planning to make pancakes for breakfast?” Bucky wasn’t jealous, he wasn’t. Not that it hadn’t been a while since he’d gotten laid, that was irrelevant. Just--

“It’s been looking good, so far,” Tony said.

“Well, have fun,” Bucky said, his smile coming naturally to his face. Yay customer service job.

“I plan to,” Tony said.

“Coffee, black.”

“Tony?”

“You were right, if you want to tell me so,” Tony said. “But, coffee first?” His eyes were bloodshot, as if he’d been drinking heavily, or crying. Or both.

“Sure, sure,” Bucky said. He added two shots to the mix. “Here, come on, it’s on the house, are you--”

Sam waved at him. I got this.

“-- are you okay?”

Tony held up his hand and waggled it back and forth. “We had a big fight,” he said. “It, uh, didn’t end well. But hey, I had almost three months of a relationship. Well, a little more than two, at least. Too bad it’s freaking October. I’m… running out of time.”

“You’re not running out of time,” Bucky told him, scoffing. “You’re in your prime. Plenty of time to find someone, settle down.”

“I mean, I know,” Tony said, sinking down in his chair, “that I don’t need someone to make me happy, that my life has meaning and value. And just because I’m alone, it doesn’t mean I’m unlovable. See, I’ve been talking to my therapist, right.”

“Well, no,” Bucky said, hesitant. Tony thought he was unlovable? He was the most interesting person that Bucky knew. “You’re pretty damn amazing, actually. Smart and sexy, funny. You’re interesting, you’re unabashedly nerdy, and enthusiastic about your geekiness. But not a gatekeeper. Really, Stone didn’t deserve you. He was a dick. I think you’re a hell of a catch, and I don’t understand why people are bein’ so dense about it. I--” would totally date you.

“Yeah, no, I’m-- I’m just not seeing it,” Tony said, and he turned his phone around to show Bucky a hungover frownie face selfie. “Not… just not happening this year. I’m done. Accountability shows that I tried, but this year is just another fucking washout.”

“Um…” Bucky licked his lip, hesitating. “Uh, maybe it’s not?”

“Yeah, why, what do you think, the perfect person’s going to just plop themselves in my lap? I mean, I know you work in a coffee shop--” Tony pushed his chair away from the table. “-- and you’re apparently delusional enough to be a romantic, but--”

Bucky stood up, took a deep breath--

--and plopped himself into Tony’s lap.

“I am an incurable romantic. I do work in a coffee shop, and maybe the perfect person for you is absolutely going to throw themselves in your lap.”

Please God, let this work, because otherwise, this is the stupidest thing I’ve ever done in my life.

Tony almost dropped him, before scrambling to get an arm around Bucky’s waist. “Wh-- oh. Oh. Oh, my god.”

“Would you, erm… like to go out? I know a great coffee shop--”

Tony blinked a few times. Then his arm tightened on Bucky’s waist. “Yeah, yeah, I think I might like that. Wouldn’t want to, you know, fail in my resolution.”

“Don’t worry,” Bucky said. “I’ll hold you accountable.”

[upontheshelfreviews]

And now we come to the final piece of Walt Disney’s original animation trifecta, Fantasia, and it’s one I’m both anticipating and dreading. Fantasia isn’t just one of the crowning jewels in Disney’s canon, a landmark in motion picture animation, and second only to Snow White in terms of influential music and storytelling in the whole medium, it’s one of my top three favorite movies of all time. Discussing it without sounding like an old history professor, a pretentious internet snob, or a hyper Disney fangirl is one hell of a daunting task.

“Did someone say hyper Disney fangirl?! I LOVE Disney!!”

“I thought you only liked Frozen.”

“Well, DUH, Frozen is my favorite, which makes it, like, the best Disney movie ever! But Disney’s awesome! There’s a bunch of other movies I like that are almost as good!”

“And Fantasia’s one of them?”

“Yeah!!…Which one is that again?”

“The one with Sorcerer Mickey?”

“Ohhhh, you’re talking about the fireworks show where he fights the dragon!”

“No, that’s Fantasmic. I’m referring to Fantasia. Came out the same year as Pinocchio? All done in hand-drawn animation…has the big devil guy at the end?”

“THAT’S where he’s from?! Geez, that’s some old movie. Why haven’t I heard about ’til now?”

“Probably because you spend twelve hours a day searching for more Frozen GIFs to reblog on your Tumblr.”

“Ooh, that reminds me! I need to go post my next batch of theories about the upcoming sequel! Toodles!!”

“Thanks. Another second with her and I would’ve bust a gasket.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Anyway, it’s no surprise Sorcerer Mickey is what people remember the most from Fantasia, and not just because he’s the company mascot. “The Sorcerer’s Apprentice” was the reason we have the movie in the first place. It began as a pet project between Walt Disney and renowned conductor Leopold Stokowski.

“Yep. THAT Leopold.”

However, between the upscale in animation and the use of the Philadelphia Orchestra, the cost grew too high to justify the creation of only one short. Over time more sequences featuring animation set to various pieces of classical music were added in what was initially dubbed “The Concert Feature”. Later it was wisely changed to the more memorable “Fantasia”. It works not only because it’s derived from the word “fantasy”, but because “fantasia” is a term for a musical composition that doesn’t follow any strict form and leans towards improvisation. Combine the two meanings and you get the whole movie in a nutshell.

And this leads us to –

Things Fantasia Fans Are Sick of Hearing #1: “It’s SOOOOOO boring! Nobody’s talking and nothing ever happens!”

You know, few recall that decades before Warner Brothers was known as that studio that made rushed prequels to beloved fantasy franchises and a hastily cobbled together superhero universe, it had humble origins in the music business; their Merrie Melodies and Looney Tunes shorts began as music videos made to sell their records. Disney’s Silly Symphonies followed in the same vein, though they focused more on pushing the envelope in animation technique and character resonance than selling music, as did the lesser known Harman-Ising Happy Harmonies.

And if that’s the case, then Fantasia is the Thriller of animated music videos. It’s the result of years of technological advancement and trial and error, all culminating in the flawless weaving together of visuals and some of the greatest music mankind has created to tell seven stories and elicit an emotional response for each one.

Let me repeat that: FANTASIA. PREDATES. THRILLER.

“And unlike Thriller, Fantasia has the advantage of NOT being directed by a man who literally got away with murder or involving an artist whose pedophilia accusations are still discussed a decade after his passing…at least as far as we know.”

By the way, if you’re watching the current version of Fantasia that’s available, do me a favor and pause the movie to watch the original Deems Taylor intros; while they’re shorter than the ones on the blu-ray, they have Deem’s original voice. All later releases have him dubbed over by Corey Burton because the audio for these parts hasn’t held up as well over time. Now Corey Burton is a phenomenal voice actor who’s done countless work for Disney before, but there’s a problem I have with him taking over these segments: One, he and Deems sound nothing alike, and Two, he makes him sound so dry and dull. Not to mention the longer intros practically spoil everything you’re about to see whereas the cut versions give you just enough to build some intrigue for what’s to follow.

Regardless of whichever one you’re watching, Deems gives us the rundown on what Fantasia is all about and lists the three categories that the sequences fall under.

A concrete story

Clearly defined images with something of a narrative

Music and visuals that exist for its own sake

And the very first of these parts falls directly into the last one.

Toccata and Fugue in D Minor – Johann Sebastian Bach

Some hear this tune and attribute it as stock horror music, but for me it’s the start of a grand, dark, fantastical journey through realms of the imagination. While it is intended as an organ piece, this full orchestration blows me away. Capturing the orchestra in bold hues and shadows with colors specific to certain highlighted instruments was a brilliant move, setting the stage for what’s to come.

And if the previously referenced Bugs Bunny cartoon was any indication, the real Leopold Stokowski is one of the main draws to this segment. Stokowski’s claim to fame was that he ditched the traditional conductor’s baton and used his hands to guide the orchestra. His passion and restraint is plain for all to see, even in silhouette.

Ultimately Stokowski and the orchestra fade away into the animated ether. The idea behind Toccota and Fugue was to show a gradual transformation from the conscious world to the subconscious, providing a literal and figurative representation of what you see and hear with the music. That’s why the first animated images resemble violin bows sweeping over strings. Over time those distinct objects evolve into abstract geometric shapes.

Honestly, no amount of stills can capture what it’s like to watch this sequence play out. It’s a radically unique experience, almost like a dream.

Things Fantasia Fans Are Sick of Hearing #2: “It’s the world’s first screensaver/musicalizer!”

This is something I hear often from people (ie. the people making the complaints I’ve chosen to highlight). First, read the previous Thing. Second, Toccata is not so much about recreating a story as it is capturing a feeling. And yet a story isn’t out of the question. I always saw at as glimpses of a battle of light versus dark, heaven versus hell, albeit not as overt as the opening of Fantasia 2000. That’s the beauty of this segment. It’s all up for interpretation. You can let the images and sounds wash over you as if you were dreaming it, or attach whatever meaning you find.

And on that note (ha) –

Things Fantasia Fans Are Sick of Hearing #3: “God, all these animators must have been so fucking high to come up with this shit.”

I tell ya what, if you’re one of those people who think that, take whatever drug is handy, grab some crayons or whatever you feel comfortable doodling with, and when you’re comfortably high, draw one full second of animation. That’s 24 consecutive drawings that need to flow, squash and stretch into each other realistically. It doesn’t have complicated; it can be a ball bouncing, a flower blowing in the wind, an eye blinking, but it has to work.

Not so easy, huh?

Classic Disney animators who lectured at art schools received comments like this all the time. While there were some like Fred Moore who would go for the occasional beer run on breaks, there’s no record of narcotic or alcoholic influence on the animators’ turnout. I’m pretty sure Walt would’ve fired anyone who turned in work produced while high because it’d be awful. Animation was still a fairly new medium at the time, and Disney was constantly experimenting with what it could do, which is why we got things like this, the Pink Elephants, and other delightfully trippy moments throughout the 40’s, not because of drugs. Isn’t that right, classic Disney animator Bill Tytla?

“Of course! I’ve never done drugs, and I never drink…wine.”

The Nutcracker Suite – Pyotr Illich Tchaichovsky

Things Fantasia Fans Are Sick of Hearing #4: “Yawn. Nutcracker is SO overplayed. Of course Disney had to jump on the bandwagon with their version!”

Ironically, the extended Deems Taylor intro has him mention how nobody performs Tchaikovsky’s Nutcracker; in light of its modern seasonal popularity, the sentiment is rendered archaic. True, the ballet wasn’t an initial critical hit and Tchaikovsky himself virtually disowned it, but much of its ubiquity is largely due in part to Disney adapting it for Fantasia. It eschews the title character in favor of a nature ballet portraying the cycle of seasons. Initial planning included the overture and the famous march featuring woodland critters, though they were eventually cut. Walt considered pumping scents into the theater during this part, but was unable to figure out how to do it naturally. If they had Smell-O-Vision that might work, but what scents would you have to scratch off for the other Fantasia segments? Wood resin? Wine? Wet hippo? Brimstone?

The sequence begins with The Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy. In the night a group of fairies dance like fireflies, gracing spring flowers and spiderwebs with delicately timed dewdrops.

“Any of you girls seen Tinkerbell?” “She ditched us to hang out with that obnoxious flyboy.” “Again?! That’s the third time this month!”

The scene is atmospheric with beautifully rendered pastel backgrounds. After the fairies comes The Chinese Dance performed by a group of little mushrooms. It’s a cute number, and just another that was parodied more than a few times in other cartoons – wait do those mushrooms have slant eyes? And they’re prancing around nodding like extras in The Mikado…

You fungi are lucky you’re so darn adorable otherwise I’d sic the self-righteous side of Twitter on you.

Dance of the Reed Flutes follows. Lilies gently float on to the surface of a pond before inverting themselves to resemble twirling dancers with long, flowing skirts. And since I’m not always one to take the easy route, enjoy this niche reference instead of “You Spin Me Right Round”.

A gust of wind blows the spinning lilies over a waterfall into some moody underwater caverns, where a school of unusually sultry goldfish perform the Arabian Dance.

Cleo, does Gepetto know about this?

A novel idea, using the basic swimming motions of a goldfish and their naturally diaphanous tails and fins as veils to resemble exotic dancers, though like other animated characters in a similar vein, this has led to some…”interesting” reactions from certain people.

Right, well, bubbles transition us into the penultimate movement, the Russian Dance. Thistles and orchids resembling dancers clad in traditional Russian peasant clothing spring to life in this brightly colored energetic minute. You’ll be chanting “hey!” along with it.

And finally, the Waltz of the Flowers. As a little girl I would often hold my own “ballets” to this scene, which mainly comprised of me in a ballet costume or fancy nightgown spinning around in circles for family members with this playing in the background. Top that, Baryshnikov.

Fairies similar to the ones from the beginning transform the leaves from fresh summer green to autumn orange, brown and gold. Milkweed seeds blossom forth and float through the air like waltzing ladies. This piece above all else is what really shows the beauty of nature. I feel more emotion watching the leaves pirouette in the wind than any plain live-action drama.

Fall turns into winter, and the fairies, now snow sprites, skate across a pond creating ice swirls while even more spiral down from the sky as snowflakes. The secret of animating these snowflakes was nearly lost to time. Several years ago a notebook by technician Herman Schultheis was rediscovered, revealing how many of the special effects in Disney’s early films – Fantasia in particular – were brought to life. The snowflakes were cels on spools attached to small rails from a train set that were filmed falling in stop motion and black and white, then superimposed on the final picture.

In conclusion, The Nutcracker Suite is a lovely piece of animation and music, and I’ll pop in Fantasia at Christmastime just to watch it. This was my introduction to The Nutcracker, and it’s an excellent and unique one.

The Sorcerer’s Apprentice – Paul Dukas

The symphonic poem of the same name now gets a proper name with Mickey Mouse stepping in the title role. It’s impossible to imagine any other character in his shoes, but for a time there were other considerations.

“Nope. Too wooden.”

“Too angry.”

“I’m sorry, but you’re just too darn loud.”

As we all know, Mickey was given the part since his popularity needed a boost. He doesn’t talk here, and I know those who find his voice grating wholeheartedly embrace that fact, but what we’re given is proof that Mickey works just as well silently as he does speaking. Very few cartoon characters can pull off that kind of versatility.

And while we’re on the topic of sound, Walt was so determined for the sound quality to match what was happening on screen that he devised a system he dubbed “FantaSound”, where it would seem as though the music would move around the the theater instead of just blare out from one speaker.

You read that right. Fantasia is the movie that invented SURROUND SOUND.

But that’s not the only technological leap Fantasia is responsible for – this is the first time we see Mickey with sclera.

That’s the white of the eyes for those who don’t speak science.

Before Fantasia, Mickey had what we refer to today as “pie eyes”, a relic of the era he was created in. As the art of animation progressed, animators found it increasingly difficult to create believable expressions with two little dots. Fred Moore is responsible for the mouse’s welcome redesign. Mickey as the apprentice serves the sorcerer Yen Sid, named after his real world counterpart.

“Hey! I didn’t teach him that!”

Mickey’s craving a taste of his master’s power, so he borrows his magical cap after he goes to bed and enchants a broom to finish his work of gathering water. It’s fun and bouncy, though the part where Mickey dreams he can control the cosmos, seas and sky is something to behold.

“The power! The absolute POWER!! The universe is mine to command! To CONTROOOOOOL!!!”

But Mickey is jolted from his dream of ultimate conquest when the broom begins flooding the place. Unfortunately the sorcerer’s hat doesn’t come with a manual so Mickey doesn’t know how to turn it off. He resorts to violently chopping the broom to pieces with an axe. The animation originally called for the massacre to happen on screen, but was altered to showing it through shadows instead. I think it’s much more effective this way. The implied violence is more dramatic than what we could have gotten.

One of my favorite stylistic choices in Fantasia is what follows. The color is sucked out, drained if you will, mirroring Mickey’s exhausted emotional and physical state after committing broomslaughter. But it slowly returns as the broom’s splinters rise up and form an army of bucket-wielding drones. They overpower Mickey and catch him in a whirlpool until Yen Sid returns and parts the waters like a pissed off Moses.

“You! Shall not! SWIM!!!”

Mickey sheepishly returns the hat, and I have to give credit to the animators for the subtle touches on Yen Sid. He appears stern at first glance, but the raised eyebrow borrowed from Walt? The slight smirk at the corner of his mouth? Deep down, he’s amused by his apprentice’s shenanigans. Even the backside slap with the broom, while rendered harshly due to the sudden swell of music, is done less out of malice and more out of playfulness.

The piece ends with Mickey breaking the barriers of reality to congratulate Stokowski on a job well done.

“Hey! I didn’t teach him that!”

If you haven’t already guessed, The Sorcerer’s Apprentice is easily one of my preferred sequences. It’s energetic, perfectly matches the music, and features my favorite mouse in one of his most iconic roles. I joke about the scene where Mickey controls the waves and the sky due to Disney’s far-reaching acquisitions in the past decade, but within the context of the film it’s one of the most magical moments. Some theorize that The Sorcerer’s Apprentice is an allegory of Walt’s journey to create Fantasia itself, and there’s some merit to it – Mickey’s always been Walt’s avatar after all, and here he dreams big only to wind up way in over his head. But you don’t need to look for coincidental parallels to enjoy this part.

Rite of Spring – Igor Stravinsky

Stravinsky’s Rite of Spring is admittedly my least favorite part of Fantasia, though I don’t hate it by all means. Thematically it’s the furthest from the original work’s intent: instead of a pagan ritual involving a virgin sacrifice, we witness the earth’s infancy. I was never really into dinosaurs as a kid (I didn’t even see Jurassic Park until I was in fourth or fifth grade), and the thundering, threatening music put me off. I found it too long (twenty-two minutes is an eternity in child time), uninteresting, and dour compared to the other sequences, with the exception of one moment. I can appreciate it now that I’m older, though.

A solitary oboe echoes through the vast darkness of space. We soar past comets, galaxies, suns, and down into our lonely little planet still in the early stages of formation. Volcanoes cover the earth. They spew toxic gas, but their magma bubbles burst in precision with the music. Once again this is due to Herman Schultheis. He filmed a mixture of oatmeal, coffee grounds, and mud with air pushed up through a vent, and let the animators go to town on it.

The volcanoes erupt simultaneously. Lava flows and the ensuing millennia of cooling form the continents. But deep in the sea, the first protozoan life wriggles, divides, and evolves into multi-cellular organisms. One of them crawls up on to land, and finally we’re back in the time where dinosaurs weren’t just confined to zoos.

Things Fantasia Fans Are Sick of Hearing #4: “Dinosaur inaccuracies…brain melting…”

True, most of the dinosaur and plant species here never shared the same period of existence, but try telling that to the animation studio or John Hammond. They mostly went for whatever looked cool and prehistoric regardless of scientific accuracy. Some of the designs themselves are a bit off, but the animators did their best considering how much we knew about the creatures in the 30’s and 40’s. Heck, we’ve only recently discovered that most dinosaurs were covered with feathers or fur, and I don’t see anyone harping on Jurassic Park for omitting that detail. Thank God Steven Spielberg doesn’t harbor George Lucas’ affinity for reworking his past movies with extra CGI.

Believe it or not, this scene was once considered the height of accurate dinosaur depictions on film, because nobody else had done it before with this level of research and care in animation. Without Rite Of Spring, we wouldn’t have The Land Before Time or Jurassic Park in the first place. Look at Land Before Time’s bleak, orangey atmosphere and the Sharptooth fights and tell me this didn’t influence it in any way.

The dinosaurs themselves have little character and, while fascinating to see how they might have lived, are not particularly engaging. Until…

Yes, when the king of all dinosaurs makes his entrance, bringing a thunderstorm along with him no less, all the others are wise to run and hide from him. I would hide under a quilt but still peek through the holes in awe. He snaps about throwing his weight around, but when it goes toe to toe with a stegosaurus? That’s when things get real.

This battle, by the way, is animated by Woolie Reitherman, who had a knack for bringing gargantuan characters to life. He was responsible for animating Monstro in Pinocchio, and was behind Maleficent’s dragon form in Sleeping Beauty.

Though what follows is far from triumphant. The earth has become a hot, barren wasteland. The dinosaurs trudge through deserts and tar pits, their fruitless search for water turning into a slow death march. Not even the mighty T-Rex can survive this.

California: present day.

Some time later, the dinosaurs are all gone. Only their bones bleaching in the sun remain. Without warning, a massive earthquake hits and the seas flood through, washing away the remains of the old prehistoric world. The sequence comes full circle as the lonely oboe plays over a solar eclipse, which sets on an earth ready to step into the next stage of life.

If Walt had his way, the segment would have continued with the evolution of man and ended on a triumphant note with the discovery of fire, but he was worried about the possible backlash from zealous creationists. And I don’t blame him for wanting to avoid a confrontation with that crowd.

“It’s bad enough he makes a mouse act like a people with his dadgum pencil sorcery, but propagandizin’ evil-loution in mah Saturday mornin’ toon box? That’s just plum un-okkily-dokkily!”

“…You wouldn’t happen to have a dictionary on hand, would you?”

“DICTIONARIES ARE THE DEVIL’S BOOSTER SEAT!!”

Subsequently, those edits made to Stravinsky’s score pissed off the composer so much that he considered suing Disney for tampering with his work. He opted not to, yet the experience turned him off animation for good. A crying shame; Stravinsky, apart from being the only classical composer alive to see his work made part of a Fantasia feature, was excited to work with Walt. The two deeply respected and recognized each other as artists ahead of their time. Who knows what else could have come from their collaboration if things ended better?

With that knowledge, it makes sense that one of Stravinsky’s most famous pieces, the Firebird Suite, was included in Fantasia 2000: perhaps on some level Disney wanted to apologize for how the finale of Rite of Spring was mishandled by making Firebird the grand finale (though knowing Stravinsky he would have hated the little changes made to his music there as well).

Following the intermission, the orchestra reconvenes and has a fun little jam session. Deems Taylor takes a moment to introduce us to the most important – but rarely seen – figure that makes Fantasia and most music in movies possible, The Soundtrack.

Once again, Disney does what it does best and anthropomorphizes what no one thought was possible. Think about it: giving personalities to animals is one thing, but they’ve successfully done the same for plants, planes, houses, hats, and here, sound itself. It may seem silly and out of place, but I think it’s brilliant and charming. The visuals it creates to represent different instruments are perfectly matched; some of them harken back to Toccata and Fugue. This, combined with the improv from the orchestra, is a good way to ease us back into comfort after the harshness of Rite of Spring.

Pastoral Symphony – Ludwig Van Beethoven

There’s a famous story about Walt Disney while he was pitching this segment. When met with complaints that it wasn’t working, he cried out This’ll MAKE Beethoven!” In a way, he was right. This was the very first piece of Beethoven I ever heard, even before the famous “da da da DUUUUUN” of Symphony #5. And as far as I know, it was for a good many Disney fans too. We still get a romantic depiction of the countryside as was the composer’s intent, but instead of an rural utopia, we see the Fields of Elysium at the foot of Mount Olympus. It’s home to a variety of mythical creatures from the golden age of Greece: fauns, unicorns, cherubs, centaurs and Pegasi.

If there was ever a Disney world I wanted to spend a day in, this would be it. It’s so innocent, laidback and colorful; it takes me right back to my childhood. A great portion of this sequence was used in my favorite music video in the Simply Mad About the Mouse anthology album, “Zip A Dee Doo Dah” sung by Ric Ocasek from The Cars. Whether that was my favorite because it featured Pastoral Symphony or Pastoral Symphony was my favorite because it was featured in the video I don’t know. There’s nothing that could ever destroy it for –

Oh son of a…

Things Fantasia Fans Are Sick of Hearing #5: “RACIST. FUCKING. CENTAUR. EQUALS. RACIST. DISNEY… RACIST!!!”

Yes ladies and gents, that image is real. Meet Sunflower (or Otika, I’m not sure which one she is) one of the the censored centaurettes (for very obvious reasons). I’m of two minds when it comes to their inclusion. First off, yes, they’re crude and demeaning blackface caricatures that have no place in a Disney movie, let alone one of the best ones and in one of my favorite sequences. But my inner art/film historian that despises censorship feels that erasing these depictions is the same as pretending they and other prejudices of the time never existed.

Thank you, Warner Bros.

As time and the civil rights movement marched on, all traces of the Sunflower squad were removed from later releases of Fantasia. The downside to that was editing techniques at the time weren’t as high-tech as they are today; I was lucky to see a film print of Fantasia at the Museum of Modern Art in 2015 that must have dated as far back as the ’60s because she wasn’t there, but the cuts were very noticeable. Sad to say the amazing remastered tracks done by Irwin Kostal in the 80’s used a similar print because the shift in the music is very jarring at points in this segment. It wasn’t until Fantasia’s 50th anniversary that they were able to zoom in and crop the scenes that had Sunflower in them while recycling other pieces of animation over parts where they couldn’t get rid of her, eventually managing to digitally erase her from some of the film entirely (look carefully at the part where the red carpet is being rolled out for Bacchus on the blu-ray. Unless he got it from the Cave of Wonders, carpets normally don’t roll themselves…)

I completely understand the reasoning behind Sunflower’s removal, but can also see why animation aficionados would try to pressure Disney into bringing her back with each new re-release for Fantasia, possibly with one of those great Leonard Maltin intros putting everything into context like in the tragically out-of-print Disney Treasures dvds – though the chances of that happening are as likely as Song of the South being made public again (the Disney+ promo should have made that clearer when they claimed Disney’s entire back catalogue would be available for streaming, but I doubt the tag line “We have everything except Song of the South” would hook people). It’s an issue I’m very torn on. So if there was ever a chance that a version of Fantasia with a restored Sunflower was possible, either through Disney themselves or fan edits, my thoughts on it would be a very resounding…

The first movement of the symphony is “Awakening of Pleasant Feelings upon Arriving in the Country”, and this part does just that. As the sun rises and we get our first glimpse of the technicolor fantasyland. Pan flute-playing fauns and unicorns frolic with each other while a herd of Pegasi take to the sky. Again, going back to other notable movies taking cues from Fantasia, Ray Harryhausen carefully studied the movement of the Pegasi here when creating his stop-motion Pegasus for Clash of the Titans. They canter through the air as they would on land, but in the water they move with the grace of a swan.

And look at the little baby ones, they’re just too cute!

The second movement, “Scene by the Brook”, takes place exactly where you think it does. A group of female centaurs, named “centaurettes” by the animators, doll themselves up with the help of some cupids (and the aforementioned Sunflower) in preparation for mating season.

“”I used to like the centaurettes not just because they were pretty but because each of them having different colors could be interpreted as women of all colors hanging out together and finding love. But no, having Sunflower there confirms that they’re all supposed to be lighter-skinned ladies. Racism given context makes it no less of a pain in the ass.”

The male centaurs arrive and hook up with their conveniently color-matching counterparts. The cherubs help set the mood for their flirting interludes until they discover two shy, lonely centaurs (Brudus and Melinda, because I’m that big of a Disney nerd that I know their actual names) who haven’t found each other yet. They lure them to a grove with some flute music a la The Pied Piper and it’s love at first sight.

One of my favorite details throughout the Pastoral Symphony is that we keep coming back to Brudus and Melinda. They’re a cute couple, one of the closest things we have to main characters in this sequence, and it’s nice to follow them.

Our third movement is “Peasants’ Merrymaking”. The centaur brigade prepare an overflowing vat of wine for Bacchus, god of booze and merrymaking. Bacchus, forever tipsy, arrives backed up by some black zebra centaurettes serving him. Maybe they were considered attractive enough to avoid being censored.

The bacchanalia is in full swing with everyone dancing and getting loaded. But Zeus, who appears more sinister than Laurence Olivier or his future Disney counterpart, crashes the party with a big thunderstorm. I used to think he was a jerk for endangering his subjects just for kicks, but in light of recent revelations maybe he had ulterior motives.

“Feel the wrath of the thunder god, you fucking racists!”

“Come on, dad, you used to be fun! Where’s the Zeus turns into a cow to pick up chicks?!”

“He grew up. Maybe you should too, son. Now EAT LIGHNING!”

“The Storm”, our fourth movement, provides some stunning imagery against the torrential backdrop, from the centaurs being called to shelter to the pegasus mother braving the gale to rescue her baby.

Ultimately Zeus grows tired and turns in for the night, ending the storm. Iris, goddess of the rainbow, emerges and leaves her technicolor trail across the sky. The creatures revel in the effects it has on their surroundings, then gather on a hill to watch the sunset, driven by Apollo and his chariot. Everyone settles in to sleep, and Artemis, hunting goddess of the moon, shoots an comet across the sky like an arrow that fills the sky with twinkling stars.

Pastoral Symphony was the one part of Fantasia that always received the most derision from critics, but racist characters aside I simply don’t get the hate for it. It may be longer than Rite of Spring but feels nowhere near as drawn out. I love the colors, characters, and the calm, bucolic fantasy world it creates. This was my first exposure to Beethoven and the world of Greek mythology and I still hold plenty of nostalgia for it. I admit it’s not perfect, and not just for the reason you think. Out of all the Fantasia pieces, this is the one whose quality is closest to an original Disney short than a theatrical feature. It’s a bit more cartoony and there’s some notable errors, particularly when the baby Pegasi dive into the water and emerge different colors. Also, Deems and the animators flip between using the gods’ Greek and Roman names, and the stickler in me wants them to pick a mythos and stick with it. But for all it’s flaws it’s still among my very favorite Fantasia pieces and nothing can change that.

  The Dance of the Hours from the Opera “La Giaconda” – Amilcare Ponichelli

Like I said before, Disney was a master of the art of anthropomorphism. And nowhere is this more true than Dance of the Hours. Animals portray dancers symbolizing morning, noon, dusk and evening – only they’re the most unlikely ones for the job. The characters of our penultimate act are as cartoony as any you’d see in a Disney short from the era, but what puts the animation above it is the right balance of elasticity and realism. The exaggeration is on point, but there’s enough heft and weight to the animals that I can buy them being grounded in (some semblance of) reality. The animators studied professional dancers and incorporated their moves and elegance flawlessly. Half of the comedy derives from this.

The other half comes from how seriously the mock ballet is treated. We’re never informed who the dancers will be, leading anyone who hasn’t seen this before to assume they’re people. The ballet itself is a parody of the traditional pageant, but the performers carry on with the utmost sincerity. It doubles the laughs when it comes to moments such as Ben Ali Gator trying to catch Hyacinth Hippo in a dramatic pas de deux or an elephant getting a foot stuck in one of her own bubbles as she prances around. The familiar lighthearted refrain of the dance provides wonderful contrast to the caricatures on screen, particularly if you recall its other most famous iteration beyond Fantasia.

No one ever told me Camp Grenada was this Arcadian or zoological.

Morning begins with a troupe of uppity ostriches in ballet gear waking up, exercising and helping themselves to a cornucopia of fruit for breakfast. They fight over some grapes only to lose them in a pool. Something bubbles up from beneath and the ostriches run away in terror, but it’s only the prima ballerina of the piece, Hyacinth Hippo. She prepares for the day with help from her handmaidens and dances around a bit. Then she lies down for a nap, but no sooner do her ladies in waiting leave than some playful elephants come out of hiding and dance around Hyacinth unawares.

Elephants blowing bubbles in a Disney feature…nah, it’ll never catch on.

The elephants are blown away by a gust of wind (must be a really strong breeze), and with the coming of night a sinister band of crocodiles sneak up on Hyacinth. They scatter at the sudden arrival of their leader, Prince Ben Ali Gator, who immediately falls in love with Hyacinth. Surprisingly, the feeling is mutual.

I’m calling it – first body positivity romance in a Disney flick.

The climax of the piece has the crocodiles returning to wreak havoc on the palace and pulling the ostriches, elephants, and hippos back into a frenzied dance which brings down the house.

No bones about it, Dance of the Hours is a comic masterpiece and one of Fantasia’s crowning jewels. And the moment it ended was always the signal for younger me to stop the tape and rewind it to the beginning, due to what follows making a complete and terrifying 180…

Night on Bald Mountain – Modest Mussorgsky / Ave Maria – Franz Schubert

At last we come to our final part, two radically different classical works that blend perfectly into each other. And brother, what a note to end on.

Composer Modest Mussorgsky passed away before completing his masterwork “Night on the Bare Mountain”, a tonal poem depicting a witches’ sabbath from Slavic mythology. His friend, the great Rimsky-Korsakov, finished it for him while adding his own personal touch. The result is some of the most iconic and terrifying music ever created, and the accompanying animation, with the exception of The Sorcerer’s Apprentice, is the most faithful to its source material.

The scene takes place on Walpurgis Night, which is the closest thing Europe has to a real-life Summerween (those lucky so-and-so’s), on the titular mountain. The mountain’s peak opens up revealing Chernabog, the Slavic deity of darkness.

Chernabog is a masterclass in design and form. It’s easy to mistake him for Satan himself – Walt Disney and Deems Taylor both refer to him as such – though considering he’s technically Slavic Satan, there’s not too big a distinction. Chernabog radiates power, terror and pure darkness from his intro alone. You can imagine him influencing all other Disney villains to do his will, essentially filling in the horned one’s hooves. Chernabog was skillfully handled by Bill Tylta, an early Disney animator with enough talent to create characters as diverse as Stromboli and Dumbo. Bela Lugosi, the original Dracula, posed for reference pictures in the early design stages, though Tylta ultimately discarded them in favor of some different inspiration – sequence director Wilfred Jackson as model, and Tytla’s own Czech heritage. He grew up with folktales of Chernabog, which served him well during the production.

“Soon, master. The one known as Jackson shall take up your mantle and we shall feast upon humanity yet again.”

Chernabog unleashes his might on to the sleeping village below and raises the dead from the cemetery. A cabal of witches, wraiths and demons gallop on the wind and take part in his infernal revelry. Yet they are but playthings to the evil being. He transforms the creatures into alluring sirens and wretched beasts, sics harpies on them, condemns them to the flames, and lustfully embraces the hellish blaze. It’s an in your face pageantry of pure malevolence that you can’t look away from

Things Fantasia Fans Are Sick of Hearing #6: “This is too scary for kids!! What the hell were they thinking?!”

I think it’s time we made one thing clear: Fantasia was NOT made for children – or to be more accurate, not EXCLUSIVELY for children. While Disney movies are made to be enjoyed by both kids and adults, Fantasia is the only one who dared to appeal to a more mature audience, and Night on Bald Mountain is proof of that. It had the audacity to explore some of the most darkest, ancient depictions of evil in a way that no Disney feature has before or since. Most importantly, it’s not done for shock value like any random horror movie you could name. It’s meant to show the juxtaposition between the darkest depravity and purest good; combined with Ave Maria it makes for the perfect symbolic climax to Fantasia. Light versus darkness, chaos versus order, life versus death, profane versus sacred, and the quest to master them all are the themes that unify the seemingly disparate sequences, and this finale is the apotheosis of that.

I stated in my Mickey’s Christmas Carol review that Bald Mountain was one of my first introductions to the concept of eternal damnation at the tender age of…I wanna say four, five? It was easily one of the most petrifying things from my childhood, but at least I could avoid some exposure to it thanks to its position at the very end. Though now I adore Night on Bald Mountain for how bold and striking it is. Tytla’s animation, Kay Nielsen’s stunning demon designs, and Schultheis’ effects culminate in harmonious diabolical artwork that’s impossible to extricate from the music. It’s a shame Schultheis left the studio after Fantasia. He met a mysterious, tragic end in Guatemala, right around the time Bill Tytla left too as a matter of fact…

“He knew too much…about the secrets of animation, I mean. Nothing at all about das vampyr walking the earth. No sir.”

Yet at the height of his power, one thing stops Chernabog cold – the sound of church bells. Disney historian John Culhane saw Fantasia during its original theatrical run (lucky so and so…) and he recalled how much having FantaSound affected his screening: when the bells rang, he could hear them coming from the back of the theater and slowly course their way up front as their power grew. It was an awe-inspiring moment that took the Bald Mountain experience one step further into reality.

The bells and the rising sun drive Chernabog and his minions back into the mountain and the restless spirits return to their graves. In the misty morning a procession of pilgrims glides through the woods like a parade of tiny lights, and thus the Ave Maria begins. It’s one of the rare times Disney has gone overtly Christian. Maybe Walt wanted to get back into the God-fearing American public’s good graces after the sorcery, paganism, devil worship and evolution theory we’ve witnessed in the past hour and fifty minutes. It does relieve the tension from the previous turn of events.

The first pitch had the march enter a cathedral, but Walt didn’t believe recreating something people can already see in Europe. So instead they move through a forest with trees and natural rock formations resembling the Gothic architecture of a cathedral. It’s the stronger choice in my opinion. The implication speaks greater volumes than a specific location, subtly connecting nature to the divine. It’s difficult to make out most of the hymn’s words, but regardless it sounds beautiful, especially those final triumphant notes as the sky lights up over a view of the verdant hilltops.

“When the sun hits that ridge just right, these hills sing.”

And with that, Fantasia comes to a close.

Really, what else can I say about it at this point. I keep forgetting this movie came out in 1940. It’s virtually timeless, and a must-see for anyone who loves animation and classic film and wants to jump into either one.

Fantasia was a critical and box office success…sort of. Despite the praise and high box office returns for the time, it sadly wasn’t enough to make up for the cost of putting it all together. Like Pinocchio before it, the war cut off any foreign revenue. And not every theater was willing or able to shell out for that nifty surround sound so the effects were lost on most people. Then there’s the audience response, which is the most depressing of all. The casual moviegoers still viewed Walt as the guy behind those wacky mouse cartoons and called him out for being a pretentious snob, while the highbrow intellectuals accused Walt of debasing classical music by shackling it to animation. The poor guy just couldn’t win.

Fantasia marked the end of an era. Never again would Walt attempt a feature so ambitious. His plans of making Fantasia a recurring series, with old segments regularly swapped out for new ones, would not be seen in his lifetime. There’s been the occasional copycat (Allegra non troppo), a handful of spiritual successors (Make Mine Music, Yellow Submarine), and of course the sequel which I’m sure I’ll get to eventually, but through it all, there is only one Fantasia. And no amount of my ramblings can hope to measure up to it. Fantasia is one of those movies you simply have to experience for yourself, preferably on the biggest screen available with a top of the line sound system. I know it’s a cliche for Internet critics to name this as their favorite animated Disney movie, but…yes, it’s mine too. It opened a door to a world of culture and art at a young age. The power of animation is on full display, and it’s affected the way I look at the medium forever. Fantasia was, and still is, a film ahead of its time.

Thank you for reading. I hope you can understand why this review took me nearly three months! If you enjoyed this, please consider supporting me on Patreon. Patreon supporters get perks such as extra votes and adding movies of their choice to the Shelf. If I can get to $100, I can go back to making weekly tv show reviews. Right now I’m halfway there! Special thanks to Amelia Jones and Gordhan Ranaj for their contributions.

You can vote for whatever movie you want me to look at next by leaving it in the comments or emailing me at upontheshelfshow@gmail.com. Remember, unless you’re a Patreon supporter, you can only vote once a month. The list of movies available to vote for are under “What’s On the Shelf”.

Artwork by Charles Moss. Certain screencaps courtesy of animationscreencaps.com.

To learn more about Fantasia, I highly recommend both John Culhane’s perennial book on the film and The Lost Notebook by John Canemaker, which reveals the long-lost special effects secrets which made Fantasia look so magical.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to be spending the rest of the month with my handy dandy garlic, stake and crucifix and pray Bill Tytla doesn’t visit me this Walpurgis Night. I suggest you do the same.

March Review: Fantasia (1940) And now we come to the final piece of Walt Disney's original animation trifecta, Fantasia, and it's one I'm both anticipating and dreading.

[imagine-that-one-thing]

Picture Perfect. || One.

Wine Drunk.

Authors Note: Hello, lovelies. Here is the first Chapter of my new fanfic ‘Picture Perfect.’ I have to give an extremly big shout out and thank you to my lovely mutuals that have been my BETA and encouraged me to keep going with writing this fic even when I have wanted to throw my laptop at my wall and drown myself in wine. @lostinreality014 @haroldsflowerchild @hellohazzza

The enthusiasm and the rush after shows have always been something I enjoy observing, there is something about the way Harry waltzes off stage and is pulled into a different world that has always fascinated me. He goes from standing on stage in front of thousands of fans, pouring his heart out to the lyrics, to bouncing with joy backstage and slowly mellowing down.

Harry opens his arms wide as I stand in front of him, an extensive smile painted across his red lips, “Ah, you made it.” He is enthusiastic and rather excited to see me.

I chuckle and give him a nod, “I did, I promised I would. You, Mr.Styles are too sweaty for a hug,” I benevolently poke his soaked button up and he forces his lips into a frown. I roll my eyes and lean up and kiss his sweaty cheek, showing him my appreciation of our friendship and his concerts. “You did well out there.”

“Mhm, is that before or after the first set you missed?”

“Harry,” I snicker nervously, unaware that he knew I missed the first set. For someone who constantly has thousands of fans in front of him, he is incredibly observant.

Harry arches a sly brow. “Tell me, love, was it for a man?” He teases, well aware that my love life at the moment is nonexistent. I don’t remember the last time I went on a proper date where the guy wasn’t an asshole who just wanted to try to get into my pants. It has been quite a while.

I shake my head and benevolently swat his arm, “Yeah right, I wish,” I chuckle, “I got stuck in traffic and held up at security.”

He rolls his eyes and looks down at his phone for a moment, “I have to change, meet you in the car in about ten? Sound good?” Harry offers while shrugging his shoulders in an attempt to loosen the chords to his earpiece and what not. “Bloody thing, always fuckin’ gets tangled,” he grunts and I gesture for him to turn around so I can help him.

“As always,” … “Harry, if you’d stop jumping around out there so much, this wouldn’t be so difficult,” I comment, carefully untangling the equipment.

“Get excited.” Harry shrugs and I tap his shoulder and he turns around, “Thank you, m’love.” He grins taking the small box from my hand.

—

“So, your plan is to find the love of your life on this journey?” I curiously ask I sip a cup of coffee while Harry stands beside me in the check-in line.

Last night, actually a few hours ago, we may or may not have ended up celebrating the end of his tour with his mates. Where we may or may not have had a bit too much to drink. Well, he did. He somehow managed to come up with this idea that he would find the love of his life on our vacation of ours. How, I do not know. Something about ten cities and ten new opportunities. I honestly think it was the tequila talking.

Harry nods, “Yes, think about it, it is a brilliant idea.”

I shake my head at the absurd of his idea, “It is a ridiculous idea.”

“No, it isn’t,” Harry opposes.

I edge closer to Harry as a little child politely excuses his way through the line. “What are you going to do? Scour different bars for girls in each place we end up in?”

Harry lifts his shoulders into a shrug. “No, not just bars but the places we go too. Maybe my wife is here in this airport, who knows?”

I roll my eyes and tenderly nudge him while I lower my voice. “You’re a knob, but whatever.”

“Instead of rolling your eyes at me, get your passport out and don’t lose it from here to the desk.” Harry gestures towards the kiosk where a man is giving out boarding passes to those on ready to fly to their next destination.

***

The airport terminals are reasonably lively for the hour of the morning. With numerous passengers coming in and various others leaving, there is a constant movement of both people and planes. I never realised how energetic the airport is at this hour, then again, I am usually at the airport just to pick Harry up when he touches down in London after extended tours and the few getaway vacations.

After clearing the security check we head to the waiting area. It is this section of the airport that provides a clear picture of the runway. Several appreciate peering through the glass, to watch planes land and take off. Me being one of them. I find it to be calming and gratifying to observe planes take off and land.

Where are they going? Are people going on a vacation? Are they permanently moving? Visiting family? We don’t know, but the plane is on route to somewhere.

Harry takes a seat facing one of the glass windows of the terminal and I suspect it is because he grasps my slight love for watching aeroplanes landing and taking off while following the lights of the runway. Harry gets comfortable and spreads his long legs out with a heavy sigh. Glancing out of the broadly spread windows, I catch a glance of an aeroplane, wheels settled on the concrete ground as the mechanical, yet pleasant, voice on the public address system calls for the announcement that flight 820 is now boarding at gate 6.

I sit and wonder for a little bit, allowing my thoughts to find themselves and sort themselves out as I have some time on my hands. I glance beside me at Harry as he scrolls through his phone to find a song to listen to so he can disconnect from the world and not listen to the public addresses by the attendants.

Harry has always been that humorous quirky guy that perpetually says ridiculous things but I am not quite sure how he is going to live out his latest task he has toasted to himself over a few too many glasses of alcohol. I am not quite sure how he is going to pursue his adventure of unearthing a girl on this little vacation of ours. I presumed he was joking but he appears to be serious.

Is he going to find a girl in each place and hope for the best by the end of it? He is going to have like ten girls if he takes that plan. I have no idea how in the world he is going to manage this thing of his, but good for him, I guess…

“If you don’t stop worrying you will get frown lines.” Harry’s voice diverts me from my thoughts and curiosities of his plans.

I cock my head to the side and glance over at him, “What?” I challenge, observing as he places his phone in his lap and tilts his head to the side to gaze at me.

He provides me with a petite smile to match his iridescent, malachite-green eyes that despite being exhausted from the previous shows are radiant. “You’re worrying about somethin’, stop… Our first stop is Napa County, Cali… It is all mainly hillside vineyards, do I need to tell you not to get drunk while we wine taste?” Harry questions with a smirk caressed to his plump cherry red lips.

I roll my eyes at him before swatting his chest, catching him off guard, “ouch,” he grumbles, knowing very well that he deserved it.

“Why did you choose wine tasting for our first stop?” I whine subtly, “We all know you’re like a wine snob.” I point out with a bit of a sigh.

No matter what anyone assumes, he is considered the wine enthusiast/snob. He brings the expensive wines imported from Europe to gatherings meanwhile I have the imported from the local store type of wines.

“Ay, now.. That isn’t very nice, m’love, not a wine snob.” … “But I thought it would be nice to go to a vineyard, see a winemakers studio.” A smile dangles on the corner of his lips.

“Do you plan to tell me where exactly these other places are or is this just a blind vacation?”

“Jus’ trust me, it’ll be fun. Just us, America, my camera and your way of words with whatever the hell you do.” Harry gestures towards me and I stare at him.

“It is called journalism.”

“Yeah, yeah, that… and yet, ye’ still can’t get me out of the press,” Harry grins and I roll my eyes at him for what I am sure will not be the last time by no means. I go to open my mouth to argue against his comment but he quickly hushes me, “I am taking the piss out of you.”

“I am sorry my boss doesn’t let me control what is said about you. He kinda keeps that hidden from me. Good guy though.” I inform Harry, once again apologising for the lack of pull I have when it comes to what is written about Harry in certain articles. I don’t have much rank when it comes to those sort of articles that will blow up and cause media attention. That is quite frankly what brings us money, it is what pays my salary, to be honest. Harry scoffs. “Do you not agree?” I challenge, raising a brow at him as he shakes his head.

His lips screw into irritation, “Ye’ boss, he fancies himself the bee’s knees, but frankly he’s quite the wanker.” Harry grumbles. He has a devil-may-care outlook and a stellar smile but at times he can be a bit harsh with his words himself when he is rubbed the wrong way.

“Harry, that isn’t nice.”

The muscles in his face tighten and he shrugs, “Indeed, but neither was that shit they wrote about me.”

“I know, I know. But for what it’s worth, you’re still as cute as a button.” I giggle with a cheeky smirk, knowing well enough that it will draw a rise out of him.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Harry groans as he attempts to hold back a chuckle and that grin I always manage to pull out of him. “They’re calling for us to board, come on, love.” He stands to his feet, grabbing my carry on bag as I stand up and begin to look through my purse, frowning when I don’t manage to clasp the boarding pass that I could have swore I put in here. Harry tenderly takes my attention as his hand presses against my arm and a flick my eyes to look up at him. He holds my boarding pass in his hand with a smirk that quite literally states, ‘I told you so.’

He did warn me earlier that I was going to lose the boarding pass if I didn’t let him hold it for me, but me being the stubborn person that I truly am, was determined to disagree with him.

I expel a breath in a whose. “Don’t give me that look,” I mutter as I graciously take it from him while he gives me a gleam of deviltry. He doesn’t say a word, instead, he just continues to grin before we make our way to line up to board our plane.

We settle quite promptly into our seats on the aeroplane shortly after takeoff, and the second Harry notices a flight attendant he ever so graciously orders us a glass of wine each.

“To new adventures.” He toasts and I hold my glass up next to his, clinking mine with his before I take a sip.

*** ***

A pageant of smells floats in the spring air this April morning. I inhale the warm Mediterranean-like climate and smile as Harry and I exercise down the petite path towards the vineyard where a horde of dandelions litter the meadow.

Harry and I wander closer where the fields are glade-green that is home to several of the attributes to the wines such as lovely berry clusters that will ripen gradually and evenly,. Harry benevolently draws me to the side for a moment, my small wedge shoes touching the verdant green grass as my dress flows delicately with the slight breeze.

My eyes meet the stunning views of Spring Mountain to the west and Howell Mountain to the east, rows of varying colours set the horizons and quite literally take my breath away.

“Beautiful view,” Harry comments as he stands behind me, peering over my shoulder, something he tends to always do due to our height difference. I also assume it is his way of making sure I am safe and sound.

—

Harry and I spend the day tasting wines in its various stages from barrels while learning about fermentation and how the grapes, that are exquisitely lined, are harvested in the early hours of the morning.

I chuckle to myself as Harry hands me another small glass of wine and he rolls his eyes at me, “lightweight,” he whispers graciously with a small laugh.

“Wine snob,” I wink cheekily, clinking my glass with his before I take a sip of the lovely wine and turn my attention back to the tour guide that has done an amazing job with informing of us of the step by step processes of the winemaking.

The man flashes a delicate smile to the small group of us and begins to express to us the history of grapes and ‘grape stomping,’ also known as foot trodding or one could use a french saying, pigéage à pied (or “punch-down by foot”).

“You,” the man points to me, catching me off guard and instantly causing my heart to beat a lot quicker than one would think.

I hate being called out, I am shy and prefer to cower behind Harry or to skulk on the edges of the crowd while someone else has the limelight. “Take your shoes off for me and kick start us in the process of grape stomping.” He gestures to the grapes beside him and I bite my lip for a moment, a little nervous to do so.

I hear Harry chuckle to himself before he takes the wine glass from my hand and I look up at him, of course, he is of no help with trying to turn down the offer to be the first one chosen. He curls his arm around me while I unclip my shoes before making my way to the barrel of beautifully coloured grapes that are soon to be crushed. Harry offers his hand and helps me step into the cold, fresh pool of grapes. I feel the grapes squish between my toes and for a moment I screw my nose up at the feel of grapes splattering under my feet, but it slowly becomes a soothing and relatively fun activity. I giggle to myself quite amused by the fact that this old method turns fresh, delicate fruit into delicious, shelf-stable wine.

“Atta girl,” Harry grins, holding his wine up to me while holding his camera in his other hand.

I flutter my eyes over towards Harry. “This is quite the workout, Styles… You should give it a go,” I gesture towards the grapes that are far denser than they seem and foot treading is a solid workout.

“Not a chance,” … “Much prefer watching you do it.” Harry winks, stepping closer and kindly helping me out so I can press my feet to the poster paper to mark my footprints in grape juice.

*** ***

After Harry and I relaxed on the terrace,  appreciating the views over Napa Valley while savoring a glass of wine that has been freshly created from this very vineyard, I find myself chuckling as I collapse in a stupor the soft sheets of the hotel, the bed seeming as if it is miles long as I roll over to reach the middle.

“Ye’ quite something.” Harry laughs and I flutter my eyes to glance at him as he claps his hands on his hips, arms crooked like sugar bowl handles.

I let out a laugh that is uncontrolled in a way that is playful or full of energy. “Can’t believe ye’ wine drunk. Even warned ye’ not to.”

I stretch extravagantly and yawn before defending my wine habits today. “Hey, you can’t just blame me… you kept ‘em coming.”

Harry nods partially in agreement, “Mhm… close those pretty eyes and get some sleep.” Harry instructs as he moves to lean down and press a kiss to my forehead.

“Bestest friend, ever,” I mumble while he shuffles away from the hotel bed.

“Uh-huh. I’m right next door if you need me.” Harry gestures towards the door that connects our rooms together and a smile dangles in the corner of my mouth.

He is the bestest best friend I could ever have asked for, such a genuine bloke.

And with that last thought, I close my eyes and fall asleep.

Harry Masterlist found HERE

If you’d like to send me feedback feel free to send me an Ask. It sometimes helps to see what the reader feels and thinks. :) xx

[snickletastic]

The Wayne Gala {Jason Todd x Reader}

warnings: none

a/n: ahhhhh i’m sorry that i haven’t posted in so long! i’ve been busy with school, but i hope to post more from now on :)

“You’re all going. No excuses,” Bruce announced, sitting at the end of the dining room table. Everyone groaned in unison, and Damian slammed his fork onto his plate.

“I am not going, you cannot force me to, father,” Damian complained.

“Oh, yes I can force you to. If you refuse to attend the Gala, then no katana practice for a month and no tv for two weeks.”

Damian shrunk back into his seat and folded his arms grumpily. Dick continued to eat his steak and Jason wouldn’t stop grunting and huffing childishly. 

“Oh come on Jason, it won’t be that bad. Get yourself a date and you’ll have a blast,” Dick said as he eyed you from across the table and took a bite of his steak. You wondered why he looked at you so strangely, but shrugged it off and asked Tim to pass the pepper. 

“You all need to dress formally and make yourselves look presentable, there will be some very important colleagues there, and i need to make a good impression on them,” Bruce said as he cut at his steak, “that means you absolutely can not get drunk and show up with no pants on.” Everyone turned their heads to look at Jason. 

“Oh come on! That was one time!” he groaned.

After dinner, Dick collected the dishes to help Alfred clean up. Jason walked into the kitchen to grab a soda and then go back to watching football. Dick had finished putting the dishes into the dishwasher and stopped Jason before he left the kitchen.

“Are you gonna ask Y/N to be your date to the Gala?” Dick wiped his hands off with the dish towel.

“I don’t think so, we still haven’t made up after our fight. Are you asking her?” Jason panicked.

“Well, no. I wasn’t planning on asking her,” Jason gave a sigh of relief as Dick turned around to face him, “but if you aren’t asking your own girlfriend, then maybe I will.” With that, Dick stole the soda out of Jason’s hands and left the room.

------------------------------

Dean Martin was blasting throughout the manor, as waiters shimmied between the rich and famous to give out champagnes. The ballroom was so full of aristocrats that they flooded throughout the other rooms. Children in tuxes and dresses ran through legs and small spaces as their parents continued to drink their wines. 

Jason was scanning the area for you, but could barely see over the heads of women in ridiculously tall heels. He decided to walk through the crowds to try to find someone he recognized. Distracted, he ran into a tall woman with short hair and a black gown. 

“Watch where you’re go-,” She stopped when she noticed it was Jason.

“Selina? Did Bruce invite you here or are you just on the prowl?” he questioned.

“Oh, please. Like I would burgle from my own extended family!” She giggled uncomfortably and hid her clutch purse behind her back, “I was looking for Bruce, but I can’t find him through all of these snobs.” An older woman overheard her and gave her a dirty look. “Yeah, that’s right, I’m talking about you, lady,” Selina said cheekily. The woman scoffed and walked away quickly as Jason and Selina laughed.

“Bruce is in the barroom. Have you seen Y/N? I can’t find her,” Jason scratched his head.

“No, sorry hon,” Selina said kindly, before she disappeared into the crowd. 

Jason pushed through more people until he saw it; you and Dick swaying to Everybody Loves Somebody and laughing. Enraged, he stormed towards the two of you and grabbed Dick by the back of his suit jacket . You gasped as Dick got dragged backwards from you. Jason’s face was red and his tux was disheveled. 

“Jason-What the hell? What are you doing?!?”

He ignored you and leaned into Dick’s ear, “If you ever touch her again, I’ll kick your fucking ass.” He then pushed Dick away into the crowd and turned back to you.

“What is wrong with you? Why did you do that?” You yelled at him, but not too loudly, trying not to gain too much attention, “Are you drunk again?”

“I may have had a few drinks,” Jason looked down at you before smiling, “Wow. You look gorgeous.”

You groaned and crossed your arms, “That has nothing to do with the fact you just completely overreacted!”

Jason ignored your statement and took your hands, “Let’s dance,” he whispered to you. His breath didn’t smell a bit like alcohol at all. He pulled you into his chest and swayed back and forth with you. Over his shoulder, you could see Dick watching the two of you dance together, and you were immediately filled with guilt. Before you could pull away from Jason, Dick grinned and gave you two thumbs up. He had set you up. Of course he set you two up! How didn’t you notice?

Jason spun you and then pulled you back in, “I’m sorry about that argument we had the other day, I shouldn’t have had so much to drink.”

“I forgive you, Jay. But why did you have to act that way towards Dick?”

“I don’t know...I guess I just got jealous,” He said, embarrassed.

“You know damn well that I only love you,” you smiled at him.

“I love you too, Y/N.”

[beepbeeprichiellc]

What about 21 for Reddie? I may be too late, and that's okay! I just love your fics I'm pumped for all your writing. :))))

#21 Why are you so nice to me... Never too late!! I've gotcha!

The gala was packed with people more important than him. For

whatever reason he had agreed to be his boyfriends date, dressing up in a ridiculously

expensive suite only to be paraded in front of people who couldn’t give him the

time of the day. Although he was introduced his name was almost immediately forgotten,

overpowered by his famous partner who was too polite to correct their rudeness.

So here he found himself, standing to side to allow his rocker lover to continue

his rounds, greeting people with hugs and kind smiles. Eventually Eddie

wondered off after a movie star called him by the wrong name for the third

time, excusing himself from the conversation.

He sipped his wine, his eyes wandering through the crowds of

people, never settling on one person for too long.  There wasn’t a doubt in his mind that he was a

fish out of water but all he cared about was not embarrassing his partner with

his awkwardness, vowing to keep to himself for the rest of the night.

“Your Toziers boyfriend right?” A voice asked from beside him.

Eddie looked over, noticing a very beautiful woman, her emerald dress hugging

tightly against her small frame. The scarlet hair she wore cascaded down her shoulders,

stopping just above the small of her back. Her sapphire eyes, pierced though

him, judging him in every way.

“Yeah, I’m Eddie. Eddie Kaspbrak.” He replied, politely

extending his hand out to her.

She scoffed, swatting away his hand. “Gross, I don’t shake

hands with commoners.”

“Right.” He retorted, rolling his eyes. “Sorry.”

“You should be. You’re embarrassing yourself you know. “

“Excuse me?”

“Coming here, with someone like Richie Tozier?” She snorted,

cocking her hip to the side. “He is way out of your league. He was voted People’s

Magazine’s top 100 sexiest men alive, and you look like you just walked out of the

Gap.”

“Wow you are a bitch.” Eddie bit, ignoring her disgusted

face. “Couldn’t find anyone else to be rude to?”

“Look honey,” Sneered, leaning in closer to him so that her

voice couldn’t carry. “People like you don’t belong here. You’re a charity case

to Richie, someone he knew before he made it big. I guarantee he is going to

drop you like yesterday’s entrée and find someone more capable to handle this

life style. Take my advice and stop make a fool of yourself and of him.”

Eddie opened his mouth to spit fire but was cut off as the

woman tilted his wine glass, spilling his Marlot down the front of his dress

shirt. “Woops.” She whispered, patting his breast pocket. “Better go clean that

up Edmund, wouldn’t want your partner seeing you with a stain like that.”

Her heels clicked as she walked away, swaying her hips.

Eddie groaned, placing his glass on the table and bolting towards the bathroom.

He locked the door, peeling his jacket off and examining the damage. Deep down

he knew there was no hope, the $200 shirt that he had argued with Richie that

he didn’t need was ruined. There was a slew of curse words that echoed against

the marble as he took a very expansive, very white towel and proceeded to attempt

to rub off the problem only to have it grow across his chest.

“Fuck.” He whispered, throwing the towel across the room

violently. “Fuck fuck fuck. Richie is going to be pissed.”  

There was a knock at the door, followed by a deep, concerned

voice. “Eddie? Is everything okay in there?”

“Fine Richie.” He replied a little too quickly. “I um-just

give me a minute okay.”

The door handle jiggled, the sight sending bolts of nervous tension

down the smaller man’s spine. “Let me in Eds. I know something is wrong.”

“Just give me a minute.” Eddie repeated, fighting back

tears. “Just. I just. Um. Please. Go away.” His fists clenched onto the sink as

his mind worked over the possible explanations and resolutions only to come up

short. He could practically feel his world crumbling under him.

There was a click and the door opened, allowing Richie to

slip through the crack. “I bet you forgot I know how to pick locks.” He jeered,

showing off his bobby pin. With on look to his boyfriend, the rock stars face

fell, “What happened to your shirt.”

“I can’t do this Richie.”

“What, you can’t tell me what happened to your shirt?”

“No, I mean I can’t do all of this. I don’t fit in here. No

one can seem to remember my name or even talk to me like I’m not scum. That

fucking woman was right, all I am is an embarrassment.” He explained with a

sigh, gesturing to his red stained shirt.

Richie laughed, taking a few steps towards his partner. “What

in the hell are you even talking about? An embarrassment? God, Eddie I brought

you here so that you could watch over me and make sure I don’t make a fool of

myself.”

“I’m still don’t fit in here. You should be with someone who

can function at things like this, you should be with someone who isn’t me.”

Eddie shook his head, putting space back between them. “I’m just a charity

case, I can’t even fucking handle myself with wine.”

“Okay first off, those people out there don’t hold a candle

to you. They are nothing but stuck up snobs and if my manager didn’t make me

come here then I would have just made fun of them on television.” Richie’s gaze

landed on this boyfriends shirt, smirking. “Secondly, you are not a charity

case. I’m with you because you loved me before all of this, before the money

and fame. I know you are with me for me, not for what I have and I love you because

you can’t hold your wine or carry a stupid conversation with boring ass producers

or fake your way into every persons bed just because you think it’ll help your

carrier.”

Eddie shook his head, fighting back a smile. “I don’t know

Richie. Those people are so-I don’t know better? I look like a fucking idiot.”

“You look like an idiot huh?” He jeered, pulling out his

pocket knife. Without another word he cut though his silk, Prada tie, leaving a

small nub under the knot. “There. We are both idiots now. Feel better?”

“Why are you so nice to me” Eddie whispered, small droplets

of tears falling from down his face. “I don’t deserve you.”

Richie didn’t respond, instead pulling at Eddie’s ruined

shirt, forcing him to his chest. There was a scoff before he lent down and

kissed his boyfriend, his fingers biting his sides hungrily. As he pulled away

the celebrity shook his head, “You deserve so much more than me Eds. Now let’s

get the hell out of here.”

He couldn’t argue with that.

[amaidasfairassummer]

Next on my ACOK reread... 

1. A catelyn chapter and it’s so fucking sad

2. They never knew my sons. Never watched Bran climb with their hearts in their throats, pride and terror so mingled they seemed as one, never heard him laugh, never smiled to see Rickon trying so fiercely to be like his older brothers. awwww these two <333 :,( :,( :,( 

3. even though you know they’re alive, it’s still really sad because you can’t tell catelyn that, you just have to read about her mourning them, which is particularly hard when she’s so recently lost ned, and you know she’s not going to get to see bran or rickon again... 

4. I am a creature of grief and dust and bitter longings. There is an empty place within me where my heart once was. lady stoneheart foreshadowing

5. “I have no sons but Robb.” :,( :,( :,( 

6. friendly reminder that rickon is indeed baby

7. i love that both cat and ned, when they think of bran, think of him laughing <3 

8. ooh, the classic sansa and arya descriptions that people always quote! love them to be fair :) 

9. cat wanting to kill the people who have hurt her children <3 

10. cat getting so fucking annoyed at people calling edmure lord whilst their dad’s still alive! 

11. petyr just instinctively knowing where lysa and cat were that time they got lost in the fog and coming to find them! i cannot tell you how much i enjoy reading about these three as kids 

12. “I want my girls back. I want Robb to lay down his sword and pick some homely daughter of Walder Frey to make him happy and give him sons. I want Bran and Rickon back, I want... I want.” *cries* 

13. good to have some more jaime content, it’s been a while 

14. “some great yellow beast, magnificent even in chains... the power and the beauty of the man were still apparent.” Jaime still looking fucking fabulous after good knows how long in a cell <3 

15. oh my god jaime... 

16. Was there ever a man as beautiful or as vile as this one? nopee 

17. “There are no men like me. There’s only me.” yassss 

18. jaime wanting to know if his family are okay <3 and also him quoting tyrion’s words of wisdom <3 

19. every lannister ever is a wine snob. it is known. 

20. jaime admitting so casually to being joff’s father... calling them cersei’s brood... the indifference with which he thinks about his kids never fails to astonish me. 

21. oh my god jaime you don’t just admit to throwing someone’s seven-year-old out of a window like it’s nothing... 

22. ... cat can you stop accusing the wrong people of trying to assassinate bran please 

23. yeah joanna often does the “On my honour as a lannister” thing as well and it’s never taken seriously 

24. shit for honour... 

25. jaime lannister does his own killing!!

26. “Tyrion is as innocent as your Bran.” Jaime i love you <3 

27. of course tyrion only ever bets on jaime, THINK catelyn! 

28. robert loved to salt jaime’s wounds!

29. Petyr had sworn otherwise, Petyr who had almost been a brother, Petyr who had loved her so much he had fought a duel for her hand... love this <3 

30. THEY’RE TELLING THE TRUTH! 

31. oh no robb’s at the crag...

32. yeah catelyn is kind of prone to forgetting that everyone else has just as much right to go to extreme lengths for their family as she does

33. ooh jaime’s famous quote about all the kingsguard vows, love it <3 

34. “I was the youngest man ever to wear the white cloak.” He was too young, honestly. That was such a big commitment at such a young age, no wonder he hasn’t been able to keep all the vows 

35. jaime talking sarcastically about aerys being protector of the realm <3 

36. red blood on a golden sword, lannister colours <3 

37. he SHOULD be proud of it cat! 

38. hate to point out the obvious but aerys was such a shit 

39. ordering the deaths of all those innocent fathers and sons 

40. oh poor brandon and rickard, such a horrible way to die, and for nothing :( 

41. and poor jaime, having to watch that, and at the age of what, 16? and the only way he could stand it was to think of cersei... 

42. fuck you gerold hightower 

43. “I think it passing odd that I am loved by one for a kindness I never did, and reviled by so many for my finest act.” oh my gosh i love this <3 and catelyn has no idea what the kindness he never did was but i do and... jaime, please know this. tyrion loved you for so much more than supposedly buying tysha for him.

44. ned should have kissed the hand that slew aerys <3 

45. “Ned Stark loved Robert better than he ever loved his brother or his father...” oooh 

46. don’t make jokes about ned being unfaithful jaime 

47. honestly though he’s so drunk by this point...he’s probably not but i imagine him legit just sprawled out on the floor 

48. jaime never having lain with anyone but cersei 

49. whoa george really did just try and trick first time readers into thinking cat was about to run a sword through jaime huh 

anyway that was great, to be continued.

[luckyinmoonlight-blog]

CHAPTER TWO

“So… I don’t get it.” Annie said as she stretched out her long legs onto the reclined pool chair.

We both let the warm Rhode Island, early September sun tan us. It was Labor Day weekend, and it was nice to be with my family and Annie all together again.

“What do you mean? I already explained it all.”

“Here is what I’ve gathered. You met Harry fucking Styles. He seems about damn near perfect. But you are scared of dating him? So you’re going to drop him like a hot potato.”

“So you do understand.”

“That is actually the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard in my twenty-two years of life. Congratulations.”

“You don’t get it.” I sighed.

“Nope.” She replied popping the “P” for dramatic effect. “I really don’t”.

“Can you imagine what they would say about me?”

Annie took off her black Ray Bans sunglasses and looked at me, her warm brown eyes sincere. “If you’re going to let the media affect you so deeply, you’ve picked the wrong profession, Molls.”

“I know. It’s just I’m a brand new artist. No one knows me, or what I’m about yet. I wanted to be known for my music, and my songwriting ability.”

“And your killer vocal range,” Annie added in.

“That too, thanks. I don’t want to be known as Harry Styles’ one-time fling that got her famous. You know?”

“I wouldn’t mind being known as Harry Styles one-time thing honestly-”

“Annie! I’m being serious!” I whined before I picked up my cup of lemonade and took a swig.

“I just don’t need any negative attention yet, or that is what Jessie keeps telling me.”

“Jessie,” Annie said with an eye roll.

“Stop, she has my best interest at heart.”

“Sure she does.”

“Why do you hate her so much?”

“She’s bossy. She thinks she walks on water. She thinks that just because she’s from Los Angeles and we are from Green Hills, that she is better than all of us. Guess what she isn’t. She’s a stuck up little-” Annie’s voice trailed off as we heard my brother and his fraternity brother Justin running towards the pool before they both front flipped in causing a massive splash to overcome myself and Annie.

“Spencer! Justin!” I screamed as the boys came up laughing.

“God, they are annoying. I’m so glad I’m an only child.”

“You’re like my sis, Annie.” Spencer called from in the pool as he did a backstroke.

“You are not like my sis, Annie. So if you ever want to come visit me at USC, just know my room is available.” Justin responded with a wink. Causing a giggle to arise from Spencer and me.

“Gross. I’m grabbing a beer, are you coming, Mollie?”

“Absolutely.” And just like that we started our day drinking festivities at my parents rented beach house. Three cheers for family vacations!

-

“Have you named your album yet?” My mother asked as we all sat around the table on the back deck overlooking the ocean eating our salad and steak.

“Not yet, we’re playing around with a few different options. Jessie thinks-”

“Ugh. Not her again!” Annie said with her signature eye roll. Annie had been my best friend since we were thirteen. She had been around my family so much that she was practically one of us.

“You’re not a fan of Jessie, Annie?” My mom asked intrigued. My mother loved good gossip.

“I think she’s pretentious is all.”

“You know who isn’t pretentious? Me.” Justin added before picking his fork and stabbing a big piece of filet mignon before popping it into his mouth.

Justin was new. He was my brother’s fraternity brother at the University of South Carolina. This was mine, Annie’s, and my family’s first time meeting him.

“You eat like a caveman,” Annie replied looking disgusted.

“Are all ECU girls snobs?” Justin not so subtly whispered to Spencer. Spencer shrugged but Justin shrugged as well, “It’s kind of hot.”

“I wish every night could be like this. Out here on the back deck sitting by the ocean. Having your father do the grilling, so I don’t have to cook.” My mother sighed before taking a drink of her sparkling water. The beach was most definitely her happy place.

“I miss little ole Nashville.” Was not so surprisingly my father's reply.

“We know. Meanwhile, I’ve been ready to move to Rhode Island, since we first started vacationing here when the kids were still so little. Now we have a music star, and well…. Spencer.”

“Gee, thanks, Mom.”

“Oh, you’ll do great things. Once you survive your college days!”

“Enjoy it, Spencer, before you marry some crazy girl.”

My family was your typical normal family, but I loved our little moments like this.

-

“I bet we can finish this entire bottle of Moscato tonight.” Annie smiled before pouring more barefoot Moscato into my empty wine glass.

Everyone had gone to bed by now, Spencer and Justin got so drunk after dinner they both went upstairs before they passed out. As for my parents, well old people have their bed times. That left Annie and me to drink and gossip to our heart's content.

“Not sure if we should be proud of that or-”

“No one is here to judge us, so let’s live it up for the end of summer. Drink up!”

I took a long swig of the sweet wine before placing it back on the coaster that sat on top of the small table in front of the couch. Being here in Rhode Island at the beach house my family always rented gave me a sense of serenity. I was able to calm down and relax from all of my stresses about songwriting, and promoting myself.

But there wasn’t a day that I didn’t think of Harry. He hadn’t contacted me all weekend. I knew that I shouldn’t talk to him, he wouldn’t want to waste his time on a nobody like myself, right? But that night in New York City… it was so magical. I kept reminding myself that we just both happened to be in the same place at the same time. It’s not like there was anyone else around that was readily available for him to hang out with.

This boy already had the power to shatter my heart. I knew that without a doubt. It was smart to be hesitant about developing feelings for Harry Styles. I was doing the right thing by not allowing him to distract me from what is really important in my life right now. He was just lonely and I was there.

Now I am lonely and I wish he was here.

I sighed before taking another giant swig of wine before I glanced up at the television in complete and utter shock.

“Hey turn the volume up, Annie.”

Annie grabbed the remote and turned up the volume, her mouth falling open in shock. “No fucking way.”

On E! some nobody reporter was talking causally not bothered by what was coming out of his mouth, and he was talking about me.

There was my picture plastered on the television screen. On the same screen, there was also Harry’s picture plastered right next to mine.

“It appears our favorite Harry Styles’ has caught his rebound. We all know that Styles’ and Kendall Jenner were seen together in Los Angeles about a month ago. Now it appears Kendall is happily in love with a photographer, his name we do not know yet. Looks like Harry has been cozying up to a newbie singer, Mollie Roark, all in hopes of making Kendall jealous. Stay on E! to get exclusive updates on this story!”

“You are so not anyone’s rebound.”

I sat on the couch, face pale and white. Not even sure if I was fully breathing. This is what I wanted to avoid. Now, my name is plastered all over E! news as Harry Styles’ fucking rebound.

“Say it. You are not his rebound.”

“I need more wine.”

“No problem. Be right back.” Annie shot up from her spot on the couch and ran into the kitchen as if the couch had been on fire. I didn’t need more wine. I already had a slight buzz, but I needed anything to distract me from the hurtful words of just being my dream guy’s rebound.

Then a dark and twisted thought crossed my mind. Don’t check twitter. Don’t fucking do it.

And when a thought like that enters your mind, you absolutely do it. And like an ididot, I searched myself on the worst website ever created, Twitter.

I’m not saying she’s a gold digger but…. #mollieroark

Just what the world needs another famous singing whore #mollieroark

Let me be caught with Harry to get famous. Who am I? #mollieroark

My songs suck so I’m going to get famous from Harry Styles #mollieroark

Annie walked back over to the couch with two bottles of wine in her hands, “Look, Molls, I got the good stuff!” just as tears were beginning to stream down my face.

“What? No Mollie, don’t cry-” setting the bottles down on the table Annie sat beside me and hugged my gently as I began sobbing loud ugly sobs. My nose was running and I am sure I looked like a complete disaster.

“Everyone is going to think I’m a sellout.” I managed to sniffle out as I calmed down a little.

“Well, are you?”

“What? No, I’m not-”

“Okay, I know that. You know that. Shit, Harry knows that.”

I guess she was right, I just really didn’t want to have my first scandal before my album was even officially out yet.

“Look, let’s not worry about this right now. We are on vacation, just like old times. Rumors will happen, but we know the truth. We aren’t going to let haters get us down are we?”

“No- I just don’t understand how they knew I was hanging out with him.”

“I don’t either. We can get to the bottom of it later, but tonight we are going to just have Annie and Mollie time, just like we used to okay?”

“Okay.” I sniffled again before she popped the cork off the next bottle of wine and filled my glass again.

-

2:00 AM

“I love this song!” Annie yelled as Music Feels Better by Selena Gomez thumped through the speakers on the back deck. We were definitely drunk by this point of the night.

I felt free, loose, and like I could really dance, which I absolutely couldn't. We swayed our hips to the ocean breeze and spun each other around without a care in the world.

“I think I should get us some water now.” Annie laughed as she tried to twirl but ungracefully fell onto the deck with a thud.

“Oh my God! Are you alright?” I stumbled over to her not seeing straight.

“Uh yeah, you look worse off than me.”

“True.” I flopped onto the deck chair and closed my eyes to stop the spinning.

“Yep. We need water, I’ll be right back.” Annie loudly stopped her feet back inside and slammed the door so hard I was shocked my parents didn’t wake up and come down and yell at us for all of the commotion.

My iPhone vibrated against the table. In my drunken state, it took me a minute to figure out what was happening. I peered down through my foggy vision, not being able to read my caller ID. I picked up the phone and answered it anyway.

“Hello?”

“Hey Mollie, it’s me.”

“Me? Who is me?” It was hard to put a name to the voice in my intoxicated state.

“It’s Harry.” He laughed his beautiful laugh, and wait, who?!

“Um, hi.”

“Sorry, if it’s late wherever you are. I don’t actually know where you are. Um, I’m in LA, right now and-”

“It’s late.”

“Oh sorry, were you, um sleeping?”

“No.”

“Oh, can I ask what are you doing?”

“Drinking.”

“I can call back.”

“What did you need?”

“Shit!” Annie mumbled as she slammed the back door open again.

I focused my attention on Harry. The perfect boy who probably ruined my chance at a reputable singing career.

“I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Why wouldn’t I be okay?”

“What? I’m sorry, it’s just you are kind of slurring your words.”

“Who are you talking to?” Annie said in more of a scream than a normal speaking voice.

“Mollie, what’s going on? I’m worried about you.”

“You’re worried about me? Why, because everyone is calling me one of your little whores?”

“I didn’t mean for that to happen. You know your not.”

“I’m your next little rebound huh?”

Annie was nodding her head while simultaneously spilling her water bottle all down her shirt.

“Mollie, no. I feel bad.”

“Sure ya do, Styles. Do you know how awful this makes me look?”

“I never meant for this to happen to you.”

“Well, it did. Now my career is shit, thanks to you.”

“I’m sorry Mollie! Don’t blame me, please. Look, I'm flying to London tomorrow, come see me-”

“Fuck off, Harry Styles.” And then I hung up.

And instantly after I hung up, I thought about going to London... because I've never been there before, and it was beginning to spark my interest.