#of course I checked to see what was on the mcdonald's menu at the time who the fuck do you think I am

[marrow-and-bone]

Title: Major Malfunction Pairings: Quackity/Wilbur, Quackity/Schlatt Rating: Explicit Words: 10,700 A gift for @regicidal-optimism, as part of the @mcytblrholidayexchange Summary:

“I just think it’s a little ridiculous, that’s all,” Wilbur says around a mouthful of hash brown. “I mean the theater of it, you know? The spectacle.” “Of course it’s a spectacle," Quackity says. “We’re launching a fucking rocket.” “We launch rockets every day. This one just so happens to have people sitting on top of it.” “I’m not a chump for being excited about this,” Quackity says, setting up all the familiar defenses. “It’s a big deal. It’s a big deal every fucking time.” “I never said you were a chump, Quackity, let’s not be dramatic.” Quackity’s eyes stay on the road, but he can hear the eyeroll in Wilbur’s voice. “I only said that it’s depressingly mundane.” “For you, maybe," Quackity says, and swallows down the rest.  or Quackity and Wilbur are Space Shuttle flight control officers for NASA in the 1990s.

There's also a playlist (course there is) on Spotify | on YouTube

A selected list of sources (below the fold)

Videos

Space Shuttle Abort Modes Explains the different abort modes for the shuttle, when they would be used, and generally how they work.

Mission Control Practices Launching Discovery Interviews with flight controllers, and footage of both the main control floor and the backrooms 

STS-51L - Launch Flight Directors Loop Includes audio and video from the Mission Control Floor during the Challenger launch, explosion, and immediate aftermath

Columbia Breakup in real time Compiles footage from various sources and includes annotated diagrams of the systems which failed.

Inside Mission Control During STS-107 Columbia's Failed Re-entry and disaster No commentary or shuttle footage, audio and video of the flight controllers only

STS-107 Re-entry live NASA TV coverage of the Columbia accident Includes Public Affairs Officer commentary

STS-71 launch & landing TV coverage of a shuttle launch from 1995

NASA RTLS Launch Abort Simulation - Discovery with Orbiter visuals added Audio from a simulated shuttle launch abort at NASA Johnson

Commercial Crew Progress Status Update 2013 presentation describing NASA’s commercial crew program and its progress at the time

Podcast is Not an Option, Episode 73 (with Gary Jordan) Interview with present-day Public Affairs Officer 

Space Shuttle Flyout Series: Launch Directors Interviews with launch directors from NASA Kennedy, as well as footage of the firing room floor 

Articles, documents, and diagrams (not including wikipedia we all know about wikipedia already)

Rogers Commission Report on the Space Shuttle Challenger Accident excerpted and adapted in the text of the story (see page 198)

Transcript of Mission Control flight loop for Columbia's final flight

Challenger timeline includes transcripts of audio from the NASA Select broadcast as well as the flight controller loops

Space Shuttle: Orbiter Processing from Landing to Launch  (PDF)

Going boldly: Behind the scenes at NASA’s hallowed Mission Control Center

The Final Count Down: A Review of Three Decades of Flight Controller Training Methods for Space Shuttle Mission Operations (PDF) includes a diagram of the control floor and descriptions of controller positions

Mission Control Center: The Heart of US Manned Spaceflight Operations this is the personal website of a former Flight Dynamics Officer [FDO] flight controller, the layout is a little wacky but there’s good stuff in here

Launching a Shuttle: NASA Countdown to Blastoff focuses on Launch Control at the Kennedy Space Center

Space Shuttle Propulsion Systems (PDF)

Building on a Mission: The Houston Mission Control Center

SPACE SHUTTLE EAST COAST ABORT MODES FOR HIGH INCLINATION LAUNCHES (PDF)

A McDonald’s menu from the 90s

[mirohtron]

in the end (it does matter)

—

anonymous asked: Can you make a part 2 to lonely?👁👁

@sweet-sinner69 (tumblr pls let me tag them) @why-am-i-on-this-website-anyway and @selectivegeekwithstandards also requested for a part 2 hello im sorry for the tag but i spent four days on this i will not let my work go unseen /lh

first part here.

—

They didn't know how it exactly happened, but one second they were on the floor of their apartment, sobbing, begging hero to not hurt them, and then next they were sitting in the booth of a McDonald's, patched up as good as hero could do.

Plasters covered some cuts on villain's hands, the ones that hadn't scabbed over yet, and underneath their sweater, the gash on their arm was firmly wrapped with bandages.

It all happened too fast; villain's mind had been going a mile a minute, and hero had to calm them down and promise they wouldn't hurt them, and, in an attempt to not stay alone with hero and get kidnapped somehow, villain had requested they go outside. More like beg. Unprompted.

That was why hero was in their apartment in the first place, right? To get villain to hero's base? Or maybe eliminate them? Villain couldn't stomach that. Being in their room with hero had been near-asphyxiating, and villain's agency had told them time and time again that the heroes wouldn't hesitate to eliminate villains.

It was why they'd brought the two of them to the mall and made hero sit in a McDonald's booth with them. There were people. A lot of people. Hero wouldn't try to kidnap them in here, hopefully. Probably. They looked professional, trained for this. They wouldn't try anything that could harm civillians.

Something in villain's chest twisted. Something regretful, something pained.

They wished they were one of those civillians.

"Do you wanna order?" hero asked gently, hands at their sides and under the table.

Villain opened their mouth to answer, but their breath caught in their throat. Did they? They didn't know if they had an appetite or not, and eating with hero could still risk being sedated and taken to hero's base.

Their left hand furled into a fist.

"I—I don't have any money," they finally answered, voice a little raw. They'd forgotten to pick up their wallet in their hurry to toss their sweater on, not wanting to risk any stranger worrying about their bandaged arm. People were too kind sometimes, and even if that societal trait could help somebody, villain didn't want to risk anything.

"That's fine," hero assured, "I don't mind a little spending. Do you wanna check out the menu?"

Villain swallowed. They didn't realise their answer could count as a "yes."

Their gaze locked onto some part of the table between them, debating.

"...how did you get in?" villain asked instead. The question had been prodding their mind even before they had realised it was hero they were crying to. Were they that horrible at keeping their location a secret? Wouldn't that mean other heroes knew their location, too? What about villains?

Their blood ran cold.

"One of my colleagues placed a track you."

If possible, their blood ran colder.

"What?"

"They're a telepath," hero explained, seemingly not noticing villain's internal panic, "they put a tracker of sorts on you. Your location was determined from that."

Villain's throat felt parched. Did that mean the telepath could read their mind? Could they read their mind right now?

Some salty taste settled in the back of their mouth. They felt horribly seen. It was uncomfortable.

"Is it still on me?"

"No." Hero shook their head. "They took it off once we learned of your location."

"Oh." Villain looked at the few plasters on their knuckles. Maybe hero was lying, maybe the tracker was still on them. But they couldn't be sure. Hero hadn't tried anything malicious yet, they didn't look like they'd even hurt villain right now.

Perhaps it was because there were civillians here. They looked at one of the tiny scabs on their skin. Hero had hurt them in fights before, what would stop them from hurting villain later? What if they got home, and hero was there to beat them bloody?

They felt a little sick.

"Hey," hero said after a moment. Villain looked up, and they couldn't see a hint of malevolance in their expression. Hero looked a little guilty, on the contrary.

Hero glanced at villain's knuckles. "I—I didn't... know you were so scared. Of me." They looked at villain's knuckles again, brows furrowing, swallowing. "I was—I didn't... I'm sorry."

"Don't be."

Hero pursed their lips. They looked like they wanted to say something else, like they wanted to protest against villain's words, like they should be sorry, but instead they nodded, looking down at their lap.

Villain pressed the tips of their fingers up against their palm as the silence between them grew heavy.

"Why were you in my bed?" they asked next.

"You pulled me."

"...what?"

"I was expecting you to be awake," hero said, "but you were asleep. Then you, uhm, you pulled me. To the bed. I didn't want to wake you because you looked tired."

Villain pulled their hands to themself, wanting to look smaller. "Oh."

Who does that? Villain wanted to hold their head in their hands. Of course, their touch starved self would do that. Of course, since they hadn't had a nice touch in a long time, their sleeping state would want someone. They wanted to ask how long hero was stuck like that, hoping that maybe they awoke soon after, but instead,

"Why were you sent?"

that came out.

Hero laughed, like they were nervous. "I wanted to talk to you about that, actually," they said, looking them in the eye, "after you'd eaten something. I wanted you to be a little more relaxed."

Oh. Villain's breath hitched. No one really thought about their comfort anymore. They weren't expecting their archenemy to.

Tears pricked at the corner of their eyes, but villain desperately blinked them away. Oh.

Hero didn't seem to notice. They shifted in their seat, putting their hands on the table. "They told me you were harmless," they said, "after my colleague took away the mental track, they... We know it was an invasion of privacy, but."

Villain's stomach hollowed out. They read their mind, didn't they? Villain supposed they had to. Of course they would, if they were given the opportunity. All they knew was that villain was some spiteful nobody.

"You don't want to be a villain, do you?" they asked, searching villain's face for something.

Villain bit their bottom lip to stop it from quivering. They shook their head, fingers digging into the leather of their seat. They absolutely didn't. They'd choose to be a civillian over a villain over and over again, if they could.

"They said you couldn't handle it."

"I can't." Villain sniffled dryly, looking away. When had they started crying again? "I really can't."

"It'll be okay," hero said gently, "we want to take you in. For reforming. Do you want in?"

Villain's gaze snapped back up. Reforming?

They searched hero's face, looking for a lie. They hoped hero wasn't lying. Hero wouldn't lie about this, right?

The agency had always told them that heroes wouldn't want anything to do with villains. Maybe the agency was lying. They had to be, because otherwise hero would have taken villain out the second they'd laid their eyes on them, right?

A sob broke their throat, and hero had rounded the table and was by their side in an instant, holding them close and stroking their hair. Reforming? Could they be safe as a civillian now?

"I don't wanna get murdered in a dirty street corner," they said quietly, hiding in hero's neck again. They sniffled, fingers clutching their shirt desperately.

"I know, we’ll handle that for you," hero said, rubbing circles on their back soothingly, "I suppose that's a yes?"

Villain nodded, sobbing harder somehow. "It is," they said, "it's a yes."

They wouldn't have to hurt people anymore. That was good. It would be fine. 

Hero told them it would be alright, that they'd just done what they needed to to get by, that they could leave villainy behind, and that the butterfly effect wouldn't be cruel to them anymore. Bad things wouldn't pile up anymore, and they wouldn't have to use their powers to hurt ever again.

“Do you wanna order?“

“Yeah.“

In the end, they got a free McDonald's meal and a lot of nice touch.

[lilyrachelcassidy]

Birthday Cake

A/N: Suprise folks!!! *me laughing maniacally* The whole scenery for this fic somehow appeared in my head and I just COULDN’T let it slip away, so... My biggest inspo for that was @drawlfoy!! Remember her posting the fic where Draco and Reader work at McDonald’s and are total suckers in their job (arguing with the customers; preparing wrong orders; etc.)? Dee unfortunately, deleted this precious, but it’s stuck to my head ever since (lol lol, it’s the moment where Dee wants to get rid of something, but I kindly remind everyone it existed). Therefore I present to you the next Draco x Reader fic related to our fav fast-food rest. This time, however, they’re not working at the same workplace but... I'm going to stop here cuz I don't want to spoiler :P

**The second thing that triggered me to write this fic is the YouTube video I recently saw with a lady who orders the 'specials' appearing to be out of the menu list of McDonald’s, through the Drive-Through. She asked for a birthday cake, was laughed at a few times, but eventually got what she wanted. Applause for the attitude!!

About the fic (context, my bitches): ofc it’s the modern AU, non-magical world. Draco’s the worst boyfriend ever but always manages to turn things into their righteous place. 

Summary: The birthday is upcoming, and Draco is in a rush to think up an idea for a perfect gift. His ingenuity fails, however, and leaves Y/N very unsatisfied with a disaster that has been forged. 

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: my brain playing a total psycho, language, alcohol, sexual undertones/allusions to sex, Pansy being too much of her self... deal...

Tags: @drawlfoy @eltanin-malfoy

Such an unrestrained desire to strangle somebody you hadn't felt in a long time.

Really.

Today was your birthday, which you had been widely announcing for almost a whole month to people you might have accidentally forgotten about it. Having your boyfriend, Draco, on your mind in particular.

You doubted he would have the guts to omit your big day, though as repeatedly as he had done for a few years back. But something between foresight and the second sense of prevention told you to keep reminding him every day of the upcoming event, with a heap of birthday-themed emojis and uppercases in the messages.

Everything was planned out in your head: him picking you up from your house with the sharp-red cabriolet that he used only for special occasions; him driving the two of you to the fanciest restaurant he could find in town; him bestowing you with a nice-looking, golden necklace or a different piece of jewelry you had been suggestively pointing out in the store's exhibition; him booking up a hotel room for you two to celebrate.

Either way, that was much beyond your expectations, as it turned out. And now you were sitting in the front yard of your house, waiting for him to show up.

'If he was going to at all.' This thought invaded your mind for the last hour, try as might to subdue it. An hour you had been sitting tight, hoping it was only a delay caused by a traffic jam or other irrational explanation he could come up with. But you were deceiving yourself, you eventually presumed -- you had been checking up your phone every one minute, only to see if any message notification popped up on the screen, other than birthday wishes from friends who actually cared for you.

2.02pm: Nothing.

2.03pm: Susan 'Happy birthday bitch!'

2.04pm: Instagram notif. (Someone liked your photo, which you had posted before leaving your room, posing in front of the mirror in the best cocktail dress you could find in the wardrobe.)

2.05pm: Nothing yet again.

2.06pm: Still... Peace and quiet.

"Fuck it...Enough," you muttered under your breath, an annoying disillusionment falling like a heavy mile stone on your chest. Tears suddenly started sprinkling in your eyes at the regret, and you were very reluctant to admit that your friends were right -- Draco Malfoy was an egoistic, negligent, self-absorbed pri--

"Hi." You heard the raspy, panting voice says. "Sorry for the delay."

You blinked slowly, stupidly. You raised your head to assure yourself it was him. That his expression actually corresponded to his words and showed some kind of remorse for standing you up. But no... There he was: standing in front of you, plainly confident and unashamed, with his cocky smirk provoking you to slap him.

Oh, how much you craved to slap him right now. "Where to the fuck have you been?"

"I've tried to pick this up," he explained, simultaneously lifting up the paper bag he'd been carrying in his hand. The big, exclaiming letters 'McDonald's' with the brand's logo were printed on its exterior, and it was fully stuffed with something inside.

Not quite comprehending, you furrowed. You attempted to hide the venom in your voice, but somehow it found its way to leak out. "Couldn't you do that in advance?"

"Nope..." It was his turn to furrow, looking almost shocked with the question. And thanks to all those years of your relationship, you knew it was his piss-poor estimation of time taking over. "It was a last-minute surprise."

"Sounds like it," you commented irritably. "What's that?"

"Your birthday present, sunshine," he drawled happily, ignoring your remark. He sounded positively delighted and satisfied with himself at surprising you with that because he saw a slight crease of shock painting on your forehead. "Here you go."

You took his deposit out of his grasp, still quite unsure. What if his gift would only make a situation worse? Can it get any worse with Draco's total lack of tact? Yes. But it was only one way to find out.

Without even stealing a second glance at him, you ripped off all of the packaging that had been folded around, protecting the contents. You tried to do it carefully and without any impact of emotions revealing the way you felt inside, but your hands were shaking with rage, and you couldn't quite contain yourself. You had been highly aware you shouldn't have expected much from him, but still...

You wondered if the universe was playing against you.

There was a moment of tense silence as you struggled to deal with all the wrappings. Rather unfortunately, you wished you hadn't put so much effort in opening your so-called 'gift' because as you finally did, it only angered you more, seeing as the disappointment laughs at your face. And yes, as a matter of fact, the universe was against you today...

"Are you kidding me?" you asked in disbelief, fury reappearing in your eyes. "A birthday cake?! From McDonald's?" Ugly, little cake with the creepiest smiley face of a clown. It wasn't even fresh, you realized, when you smelled it and felt a musty reek of a freezer, it probably had been kept in. A confusing sense of sadness in your chest couldn't reach any higher at this point.

"Don't you like it?" he asked, detecting the wrath in your eyes. At that, you felt the dumbest urge to laugh and never stop. "I thought it'd be something original."

"Oh, I love it," you said sarcastically, a faint voice of hope telling you it was only a very bad joke was still lingering in your head. But it wasn't a joke.

"It's not just--" He struggled to form a coherent sentence. "I've been asking Blaise and Theo about any ideas. I told them, what you had said to me -- 'you didn't want anything fancy.' So we decided it's... something."

"Of course I didn't tell you I want anything, you dolt!" Your voice raised up almost two octaves, and the pulse sped up so fast it entailed a headache along. A neighbor from the opposite garden who was watering the flowers looked at you, startled, and eyes widened your exasperated tone. You didn’t care. "It's how it works: you don't tell other people you expect them to buy something!"

"But I'm your boyfriend. You shouldn't -- er-- feel uncomfortable to tell..."

"Exactly! As my boyfriend, you should have known!"

"Well... I didn't. If that's what's bothering you, we can...we can..."

"Stop." Listening to him and his pathetic excuses was the last thing you were going to do now. "What – why would you even – " You sputtered out, unable to process or express exactly what you were feeling. There was definitely anger and indignation. Curiosity, for another, as to why Draco would even fall for such foolish and ill-considered idea, and -- to the top of it -- hope it would make a good fit. And possibly, the last and most satisfying part, was the wicked impulse to throw the cake directly into his arrogant face, letting him taste his own medicine he had been serving you for years on each failed birthday.

"You know, for once, you could pay more effort and try doing something nice for me," you told him firmly, deflating to calm down your buzzing nerves.

"I've been tr--"

"Do you realize how much it costs me to pretend to be happy when you forget about me? Last year, I organized a big-ass party for your birthday, inviting over all of your friends and buying the best booze I could find to celebrate it properly," you said harshly and pretentiously, as you intended. "The best part is, you didn't even thank me." You stared at him, wringing your hands and expecting to perceive any trope of shame in his eyes. For the first time, you actually did.  

"Listen, about that--" he calmly attempted to cut off your monologue.

"No, you listen..." Did you really want what was upcoming next? Maybe it was about time. "Today, I decided I'm standing up for myself. So, for the last time, get out from my porch."

He bristled, the thunderstruck air hanging around him. "Because of the stupid cake?"

"What?! No! It's just... I feel like you don't give a damn about me anymore." Gulp formed in your throat, and the tears finally left your eyes at the consciousness of what was happening. "I think we both deserve some time."

Your eyes moved to his, and you almost wished you hadn't looked. He was watching you, with pursed lips and a pure mixture of every emotion: anger, sadness, resentment, pretension, dejection. The faintest of his flustered blushes appeared on his cheeks, and you suddenly wished you could hug him. "So you are putting us..." His finger pointed at him and you as if expecting clarification. "...on a break? Is that what it is?"

You were truly torn, to be honest. Becoming single on your birthday was the last wish you had for this day, but you felt a strong sense of adequacy and pride for building up the boundaries of tolerance. Besides, seeing as it was heading nowhere, it was only a matter of time that your relationship came to an end.  

Although, it hurt. A lot. "Yes."

You darted your eyes from him, not wanting to study his reaction in case it caused you to meltdown and jump to his embrace, apologizing endlessly for your words. You loved him. But you didn't regret what you had just said.

Something like a dry chuckle of disbelief escaped out of his mouth. "Is that what you really want?"

'No,' your thoughts prompted you instantly before you could even contemplate. 'I want you to say so many things you're never willing to say. But you don't know.'

So instead, you lied: "Yes."

All expressed, you spun around without peeking back and rushed into your room, already knowing there was no more sense in strives to make this day any better; all of it would bring only bad associations. It would be depressing, even more than it already was.

God, was it how the break-up pained? Because if so, you wanted to be deceased. The world spun suddenly, and you sank to your knees, shaking madly and doing your best to find your way back to your bed, located a few mere meters from you. Part of you felt numb, but your head was wide awake and alarming you that something in terms of a disaster had just happened. Because it did. The clutching in your chest was unbearable, and tears were dashing out of your eyes like a living waterfall, which made you bury your face in your hands. Never have you ever wanted to be so drunk before.

And so many questions rung up in your head at once.

Did you make a good decision? What if you are going to miss him, yet knowing you could never call? What about college -- are things about to get awkward?

No answers.

But you knew someone who would be able to reply to them.

With the blurred by tears vision, you struggled but managed to find your phone in the purse, and then clumsily scrolled through and tapped in your list of contacts before holding the phone to your ear.

Please answer, you begged. Please, please…

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY!" Pansy's voice roared from the other side of a line, as always, enthusiastic.

"Pansy." You tried to sound less brokenly than you were, feeling marginally worse at the reminder of your birthday. "Is Daphne around?"

"Ouch, you're a really nasty bitch sometimes, you know. I'm not goin' to point out today, but since you didn't let me end my wishes, I'll note that for the future reference." You were sure she was grinning at the teasing, seeing as much as she liked that. Normally, you wouldn't mind, but... "How--"

"Pansy, please..." you sobbed out, almost desperate to have someone to consult and share emotions with. Daphne -- contrary to Pansy, who could be very judgy sometimes -- was someone you had especially on mind now. "I need to talk to her."

You heard her sigh; the kind of sigh she used to either prove her resignation or concern. But, as much as it surprised you, she suppressed her curiosity and, without a second word, obediently handed the phone over to Daphne. At least, that's what you assumed because you heard a pause and subdued mutters in the background.

"Y/N?" the milder tone spoke up, and you felt suddenly very strange as if submerged in water of relief; relief to hear the familiar voice. That released you from keeping a distant attitude, and yet again, a sadness washed over you, triggering a loud wail to come out of your mouth. "Y/N, is everything alright?"

"No..." you sniveled, unable to collect yourself together. "I-I... We br-brok-e up."

"You and Draco?" Daphne asked, astonishment evident.

You nodded but then remembered she couldn't see you nor read your expression. So instead, you forced your vocal cords to work again. "Mhm..."

"What happened?"

Restoring the story in your brain again, you told her everything, still tearfully but much more coherently this time. You avoided the details, briefly skipping from one utterance to another, as your conversations had gone, and you were very much thankful she didn't press for more information about the prospect of the situation. If it hadn't been her sporadic gasps or loud inhales of breath, you would have almost presumed she wasn't listening. However, she was, and as soon turned out, Pansy was as well.

"That's bananas!" Pansy shouted somewhere from the back as you had ended, and despite your gloom, you giggled quietly at her comment.

"Shush," Daphne tried to silence her, covering up the fact she had put you on the speaker. You didn't mind because you knew Pansy, who would definitely expect Daphne to cite the whole conversation if needed. But knowing Daphne as well, you could bet she flushed more than she would want to at that point. "So it all started because of the cake?"

"And the delay," you added. "But it's not just about that, obviously. It feels like... he completely stopped caring. And I don't want to be stuck in a relationship where everything is about sex and having fun only. Draco wasn't looking for a commitment, which..."

"Sucks,"ended this time Pansy unhesitatingly, who wasn't now screaming from the other part of a room but openly participating in the discussion.

"Yeah," you agreed.

"As for me, I think he might love you more than you know, Y/N." It was Daphne talking again, and she sounded positively convinced about her view as for someone who had hardly exchanged any word with Draco for the past few years. As if reading your thoughts, she continued. "I've observed you a lot. I know he might seem unemotional, but it's you who discovered him. That must require a lot of trust, you know."

You contemplated, and some of the memories and images from your first encounter run across your brain, try as might to suppress it: spotting each other at the party; binging some whisky shots together; flirty teasing; the very masculine scent of cologne; and then... more spicy recollections -- eager lips pressing against each other; against each others' necks; against other parts of the body; stripping off the clothes in the passionate haste...

Receiving a long moment of silence, Daphne took a second chance and asked. "And what's with you? Do you want to end it?"

It felt like standing before the oracle of truth. Therefore, you couldn't deny it in front of yourself. "No."

"So what're you still doing there?" commented Pansy impatiently, and you could imagine her rolling the eyes. "Get out and find him!"

She was right. You will.

XOXOXOXO

"I thought I'd find you here..."

No. Actually, you didn't. 

You had tracked Draco's phone with your own one with some help of an app that, as the two of you had established still in the relationship, would be a good idea in case of an emergency. That in itself proved to be more than helpful, believing that your argument may be pinned as something in terms of an emergency, right?

So having access to his location, you had found out he was in the park where he had taken you on the first date, shortly after dinner, to watch the sunset that, as he had described, 'was a typical cliche from every romantic movie.'

But you had fallen for that. So much.

You hadn't been aware the place had actually some meaning for him until now, and that... God, that he had even remembered it. Time showed, however, that it indeed did, to which your heart reacted with a happy jolting. But also with a nasty sting of nostalgia following shortly after.

Yet, that only had encouraged you to make up your mind and go looking for him, which hadn't been such a difficult task per se. He was sitting on the bench, in the shade of a tree, and hiding his a little too delicate skin from the sun rays. As soon as he had heard your voice, his gray eyes flew up to see you standing a few meters away.

"What are you doing here?" was the immediate question that tumbled out of his mouth. He arched his eyebrow, and to your surprise, he didn't even look angry or sad with you. Nothing near the edge; actually, almost something like the amusement was painting on his face.

"Aren't you mad with me?" you asked intrigued, completely forgetting about his question.

He frowned. "Why would I be?" His tone was so mild that you weren't sure if he was referring to the double meaning; but then he smirked playfully and said, "Besides, I knew you were coming."

"Wha-- How?" you asked, eyes dilating a fraction, in shock.

He smirked, pointing at his phone in an explanatory manner. After a moment, you finally figured out what he meant: the app must have registered he had been tracked and that your phone was trying to find his. At this notice, you reacted with a wave of flush, suddenly regretting your previous lie. His smile only widened at your expression. "Wanna sit? It's plenty of room here."

"Mhm..." You nodded, pleased to accept his offer, and walked over to the bench, doing your best to hide the evident embarrassment on your face. You felt strange he had taken you with such ease, seeing as merely two or three hours ago, you had burst at him like a cram-full volcano of unspoken emotions.

Draco shifted a package from his side, making more space for you to sit, and it took you a moment to realize it was a McDonald's cake from earlier. Everything started from that -- a stupid, little piece of cake which stood up between...

You shook the thought away, taking a seat next to him, close enough to smell his sandalwood cologne. "You didn't answer my question," Draco reminded you. "What's so important to make you track my phone?"

"I'm sorry, okay?" You rounded your face to him, flustrated, leaning at the backrest of a bench. "That's why I came. I wanted to apologize."

"Oh... Couldn't you call?"

You sighed. "I figured you wouldn't want to talk to me after...you know... our quarrel," you said half-despondent, half-desperate, watching your feet as if it were the most interesting thing to peer at now. "I didn't mean what I said earlier."

"I know," he said. Out of nowhere, he was gently grasping your palms which forced you to look up directly into his intense gaze. His eyes were swirling like molten silver at you. "But I should be apologizing, love. I made a mistake, okay?" His hands traveled all across to your tense shoulders, squeezing them lightly. "I know I should be more... affectionate with you. And this was...dumb. A dumb mistake. With that cake. But I'll try to be better if you give it another shot."

He looked so serious that you instantly believed him. You wanted to actually, with all force of longing, which grew up too rapidly in you when he wasn't around. Draco was a fool, you could easily say. But he was your fool, which was a thing you couldn't be more proud of.

Peeking slowly in the other direction, you asked, out of the topic, "You remembered the place?"

"Of course," he puffed jokingly, smiling. "Our first date. Officially our place from then on."

"Right..." You smiled back.

Honestly, the mere fact that he had called this spot 'yours' warmed up your heart, and you felt yourself grinning at his never-before-discovered emotionality. To assure yourself you weren't the only one caring, it was all you needed to hear.

The whole moment was intense, and now, you realized, is when you should have hugged him. Kissed him. Said something back at his sincere endearment.

But instead, spotting plastic cutlery next to your 'gift', you asked, "So what's the taste of the birthday cake?"  

And you knew he had caught the subtext of your playful inquiry. And you knew that soon you would work things out again. But, as for now...

"I thought you would never ask."

XOXOXOXO

A/N: Looooooool. Such a drama-comedy, right? And I could easily say It feels like 50% Draco-x-Reader / 50% Draco-x-BirthdayCake... But whatever (2am is working like a drunken bud, folks). Happy beginning of August :)

[rolandopujol]

Readers of the Daily Times newspaper in Mamaroneck, New York, got the news on Halloween 1962 – and it was a treat, not a trick for locals eager to have a Golden Arches of their very own. McDonald’s was coming to town, replacing an old custard stand and miniature golf course on Old Boston Post Road. The menu would feature 10 items, with 30 employees making sure the Speedee Service System was zipping along. Burgers were still just 15 cents, and they were anticipating cranking out 6,000 of them a day. The average customer was to expect a hamburger, fries and a milkshake in 50 seconds. On its second birthday, this McDonald’s had already sold 1,600,000 burgers … and 10 of those were stolen by a real-life “Hamburglar” years before the McDonaldland character was introduced. Our thief – no word on whether the only words in his vocabulary were “robble robble” – made away with his bag of burgers without paying in March 1965. This building you see today, a now rare mansard, replaced the original walk-up, glass-and-tile structure, flanked by the Golden Arches. The last time the interior got a workover was in early 1992, when it was given a 1950s-inspired rock ‘n roll makeover that survives to this day, and which, based on tips from folks here on Instagram, I checked out on Sunday. Like those “Miami Vice” Taco Bells I’ve posted, the tables here went heavy on pastels. Unlike the Taco Bells, the look embraced 1950s memorabilia on the walls, jukeboxes on the table at one point, neon tubing and even an old bumper car I’m told is from nearby Rye Playland. There are even “loose” chairs, not bolted to the tile floor, then a fast-food novelty. I last visited this McDonald’s in 1995, and it’s barely changed. That’s rare these days, as the old “McMansards” continue to vanish. The last one I showed you, posted two weeks ago today and just photographed by me, is already going down. I’m not sure how long the Mamaroneck store will be around in this form, so if you’re anywhere nearby and care about this stuff, you know what you have to do! #retrologist #mcmansard (at McDonald's) https://www.instagram.com/p/Ccgxv6-rZdd/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[vive-la-revolution]

I heard you were in need of Lams prompts/AU’s! So here you go!

If you could, could do modern Lams AU where John’s in the military and he comes home after a year apart from Alex and when the rest (besides Alex) heard the news that John was coming home, they decided to take Alex a restraunt or something and, still in uniform, John comes in to surprise Alex? Could it also be in their historical appearances? Kind of fluffy and cute yet emotional at the same time.

i kid you not i was wanting to write something almost exactly like this i just needed the motivation from someone, so, thanks!

— —

“Mon ami, you must come with us,” Lafayette’s heavily accented voice echoed through the phone, which Alexander held loosely in his hand as he paced the living room, “we’ve already made the reservations and I promised the boys you’d be there.”

Alex sighed, running a hand through his unruly auburn curls. “Gil, you know I’m in no state, physically or mentally, to go out with you guys. I just... need some time alone.”

He could practically hear Lafayette’s exasperation over the line, and he bit his lip.

“Alexander, you have needed some time alone for the past year and a half. We get you’re still anxious about our dear John-”

“Don’t say his name,” Alex interjected suddenly, “please.”

Although he hated the newfound weakness in his voice, he really couldn’t stand hearing the name. Alexander’s fiancé, John Laurens, had been drafted into the army overseas more than a year ago. He’d been fretting over him ever since.

A staticky sigh was heard on the call, jerking Alex back to reality. “Alright, oui, I understand. I won’t mention him again,” A pause. “But please, Alex, I am begging you, come out just this once. We’ll leave you alone from now on but we miss the real you.”

A moment’s hesitation.

“Fine,” Alexander reluctantly agreed. “But you’re not to ask anything else of me.”

“Deal.”

A beep, and the line went dead.

Alexander clicked his phone off, setting it facedown onto the coffee table. He knew Gilbert had a point; he had practically ghosted all of his friends over the past while, and it was about time he socialized with them again.

Within the next thirty minutes, Alex had managed to make himself look... somewhat presentable. All he knew was that Lafayette had made reservations at some restaurant — and with his spontaneousness, whether is was McDonald’s or some fancy Italian place was anybody’s guess — so Alexander settled for just a white button-up and some jeans. At least, it seemed nice compared to his typical sweatpants and t-shirts as of late. His wavy hair now laid untangled around his shoulders, a hairtie snapped around his wrist.

But when he looked in the mirror, he still saw the same, tired, empty person he was without John.

Alex nearly jumped when he heard a car beeping from outside, and rolled his eyes as he made his way to the door. He flung it open to see Lafayette waving enthusiastically from the drivers’-seat-window. He couldn’t help but smile.

“It’s about time I saw your face again,” Gil said as Alex climbed into the passenger seat, a laugh underlining his words. “Almost forgot what you looked like.”

Alex scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Sure. Now where the hell are you taking me?”

“You’ll see,” Gil tsked.

The rest of the ride was silent, besides the low hum of the radio. Alex found that to be a bad thing, as he was left alone with his thoughts.

Ever since John had left, he hadn’t stopped panicking. He promised he’d come home, but what if he came home seriously injured? Dying? In a box? His hands began to wring together involuntarily, and Lafayette touched them gently to stop the movement.

“Stop worrying,” he whispered, “he’s going to be fine.”

You don’t know that. Alexander thought, feeling a springing sense of remorse. He bit his tongue to stop from actually saying the words.

They fell back into silence for the next fifteen minutes, until they arrived at a fancy-looking restaurant. Alex wished he’d made himself look nicer. That was when he noticed the smile creeping to Gilbert’s face.

“What are you smirking about?” he inquired, raising an eyebrow.

Lafayette shrugged and twisted the keys, turning the car off. “Nothing. Ben, Tench, and Richard are already here,” he said, changing the subject as he referenced their friends.

Part of Alexander wished it had just been the two of them, as he wasn’t sure quite what to say to everyone else, but the other half didn’t mind. Taking a moment to put himself in the right mindset, Alex exited the car.

He stuck his hands in his pockets as Lafayette led him to the front door, checking in, then walking to their table, where three other boys already sat. He waved awkwardly to them as he took a seat at the foot of the table.

“Hey, Alex, how’re you holding up?” a voice asked. Alexander looked up to see the sympathetic face of his friend Benjamin Tallmadge. In response, he only shrugged.

Most conversation ceased after that, though Alex couldn’t help but catch glimpses of smiles being flashed between the four others.

He ordered the first thing on the menu he saw, nothing particularly piquing his interest nor appetite. He wasn’t hungry, but he didn’t want the whole ordeal to be for nothing.

Alex continued to pretend to not see the clear expressions of mischief being passed around the table. If they were trying to hide something, none of them were very good at it. He didn’t see what they could possible be joking about, not when John wasn’t here to joke with them.

Alexander began subconsciously twisting the ring on his finger, trying not to let his anxiety overwhelm him. The few scattered chattering from throughout the room were closing in on him, making him feel excessively claustrophobic in the large area. He just wanted to leave; leave and be with John again.

After what felt like eons, their dinner finally arrived, but Alex couldn’t make himself eat. He scraped his fork around on his plate, stirring around the contents of his dish.

For a moment, he thought he heard a voice he recognized.

Perking up a little, he finally gave into pointing out the blatant signs of secret-keeping between his friends. “What are you guys...” He trailed off, noticing their faces brighten as all four pairs of eyes drifted to stare behind Alex.

Ben jerked his head in the direction his gaze was, silently signaling for Alex to turn around. Huffing, he obliged and twisted in his seat.

The table, the room, the world went silent. He knew who it was before he saw their face.

Alexander stood without realizing he’d done so, doing all but everything to keep his jaw from falling slack.

As his eyes traveled upwards, an all-too-familiar face greeted him.

“John,” he breathed. His blond hair was shorter, his blue eyes were tired, and there was a light stubble on his chin, but it was John all the same. His John. Alexander bit his bottom lip to keep it from trembling.

“Alexander,” John whispered, opening his arms. Alex was quick to run into them, his hands grabbing fistfuls off John’s too-loose coarse uniform. “Oh, my Alexander,”

Alex found himself crying, tears of pure joy rolling down his face as he buried it into John’s shoulder. He couldn’t make himself say anything, knowing his voice wouldn’t allow it without breaking.

John’s hand rested at the nape of Alex’s neck, his other around his back, holding him close. Barely a single word was exchanged between the pair, pierced only by the occasional “I love you,” from whoever could manage.

When Alex finally looked up to meet John’s eyes again, his own were wet and he was smiling uncontrollably. John’s face didn’t appear much different, and he wiped away the stray tear that was still stuck on Alexander’s face.

Before he processed what he was doing, Alex looped both his arms around John’s neck and pulled him down, catching his lips in a passionate kiss. He knew they were probably being watched, and who knew how many ‘phobes were in the building, but he didn’t care at all. He had his John back.

Both of John’s hands rested on the small of Alex’s back, holding the smaller man as close as he could to deepen the kiss.

They stayed in that position for what seemed like forever, before finally pulling away, as breathing is among the human necessities.

Alex lowered his hands, and as he did so, John grabbed ahold of one of them. He did what Alex had been earlier, and spun the silver ring around Alexander’s finger. John let out a sigh of relief.

“Oh, thank God, you kept it,”

“Of course I kept it!” Alexander said, his voice bright. “Even if you didn’t come back, I would’ve kept it,” The words were easier to say, now that he knew he was safe. “But you came back. You came home,” He hugged John again, his head resting on his chest. “Home to me.”

John left a kiss into Alex’s russet waves.

“Home to you.”

[we-are-inevitable]

bright lights, bright lives // javid

SMALL TOWN AU PART: One

A/N: AHHHH IT’S HERE IT’S HERE !! THE FIRST INSTALLMENT !!! AHHH !!

tag list: @angstyfangirl32 @orestes-fasted @angelslibrary @yahfancyclamwiththepurlinside @tarantulas4davey (if you’d like to be added to the list, send me an ask!)

Read On AO3!

***

The lights in the arena are blinding, casting harsh shadows on the dirt below. It’s intoxicating. The heat, the adrenaline, the anticipation- it’s addicting, captivating, and this right here, right here in this arena, is something special.

Special as he unloads the trailer. Special as he gets ready in the stalls. Special as he waits eagerly at the railing, watching his competitor make the traditional cloverleaf pattern in the dirt.

Everything moves in slow motion, and he feels his heart pound deep in his chest. He straightens his shoulders as the rider goes past him, heading to the stables again, and then, he’s moving toward the gate. And then, he takes a glance up at the crowd, taking in the faces and the excitement.

And then, the ‘go’ signal sounds through the speakers, and everything picks up the pace.

Jack Kelly is barely aware of pulling the reins and giving Dolly’s underside a gentle nudge, and then they’re off. The roar of the crowd is deafening as they go through the tight turns, the continuous loops around three barrels in the middle of the arena, and Jack is smiling- he’s smiling so wide it hurts, because this is where he belongs. Where he wants to be.

Here, under the blinding arena lights, at the best local rodeo in the state, with his favorite horse and a crowd cheering his name.

It feels like hours have passed by the time he reaches the finish line, and a loud blow horn sounds, signaling the end of his ride. Jack is panting now, watching the judges table with wide eyes, watching the timekeeper write down four little numbers- and then it’s announced.

“Jack Kelly’s time is: fourteen-point-three-two seconds.”

The crowd erupts into an uproarious applause. Jack lets out a breathless laugh as he watches his score be written on the blackboard, and covers his mouth with his hand. He hasn’t had a time that good since last summer- most of his times this year have been in the fifteen-to-seventeen second range- and knowing that they still have a long rodeo season ahead of them… It’s hard not to focus on the prospect of potential wins, but Jack gives himself a few moments to bask in the attention before coming back down to Earth.

There are still racers waiting for their turn, Jack reminds himself. You haven’t won yet. Don’t get cocky.

Regardless, Jack keeps his head held high as he drops off of Dolly and begins walking her back to his trailer. He rubs her side all the while, smiling wide. “I knew ya had it in ya, girl,” He whispers once he’s away from everyone else, and runs his hand along her back.

Jack’s quick to tie her reins to a post just behind the trailer. He drops the gate carefully, and walks up inside to check on her feed and water situation. Once he pours her some more water into the trough and adds some more hay to the feed container, he walks back out of the trailer- though he stops in his tracks when he sees someone standing next to Dolly.

A certain someone, with curled red hair, settled over her shoulders perfectly, with a black western hat seated snugly on the crown of her head. Someone wearing tight Wranglers, with a studded belt and a white button down with purple accents tucked into the jeans. Someone with dusty boots and a stare that could make even the strongest man weak in the knees.

“‘Scuse me, ma’am, I’m gonna need ya to step away from the horse,” Jack says with a smirk, leaning against the edge of the trailer. “What are you doin’ back here? Shouldn’t ya be gettin’ ready?”

Katherine makes eye contact with him, and flashes a grin. “There’s still six riders ahead of me. I just wanted to congratulate you on your race, Kelly.”

“Mhm. Sure.”

“Besides, I wanted to see what you look like before I wreck your time.”

“There she is! Atta girl,” Jack grins wide and laughs, then walks forward with open arms. “C’mere, Kath, give me a hug. I’ve missed ya, smartass.”

Katherine hurries toward Jack with a megawatt grin, squeezing him hard around the torso. “I’ve missed you too, Jack. We need to get together sometime!” Katherine huffs as she pulls away. “I’ll be around for a while, but we’re leaving again soon. I have a few races down in Texas that I'll be going to. You up for dinner at Cattleman’s this week?”

“When am I ever not up for dinner at Cattleman's?" Jack shakes his head. “I'm good any day this week.”

“Good,” Katherine smiles. She leans up and gives Jack a kiss on the cheek- an affectionate gesture. “Hey, I need to go get ready, but I'll talk to ya in a bit, okay?” She says with a smile, backing up. “I'll text you. Bye, Dolly,” Katherine gives the horse one more stroke along her side, then nods toward Jack. “Bye, Jackie.”

“Good luck out there! Give Shakespeare some love for me!” Jack calls after her while she walks away, then shakes his head with a grin as he walks toward Dolly. He unties the reins, leads her onto the trailer, and works on getting the saddle off.

Part of him wishes he had help, but… No, he has himself. He can do this. He’s been doing this since he first learned how to pull a trailer. It’s fine.

Fine, Jack remembers, as he sighs and hangs the saddle on the hook. He stays in there for a few more minutes, checking her over while humming to himself. There’s a lot left to do, and he still has to drive home, but eventually, Jack leaves Dolly safe in the trailer and goes out to walk around the booths set up outside the arena.

The rodeo is in full swing, and the energy is buzzing all around him. There are people lined up to get food at the concession stands, countless others milling from boutique booth to boutique booth, and kids playing in the dirt down under the stands. As he walks through the crowd, he hears bits and pieces of conversations- one little kid is going to be mutton busting, according to his enthusiastic comment to his buddy; a teenage girl has a crush on one of the bull riders; a mother and father plan to leave early so their children aren’t out too late.

It’s domestic. It’s a community. It’s a family that Jack is proud to be a part of.

Jack finally comes to a stop at the end of the concession stand’s line. He stuffs his hands in his pockets and squints to see the menu; it’s all typical food, like pulled pork sandwiches, loaded hot dogs, and burgers that rival even the best sit down restaurants. The sign says that the proceeds are going to a local 4H and FFA chapters, too, so… that’s better than getting something shitty at McDonald’s for a higher price, right?

Right.

Jack is still weighing his options when he hears a small voice from behind him ask, “Are you Jack Kelly?”

Blinking, Jack turns around, and he’s met with a young boy. He can’t be any older than ten, Jack notes. He has brown eyes, freckles, curly hair, and a crooked smile- he seems to be missing one of his front teeth as well. He’s wearing a cowboy hat, too; it looks a little cheap, which Jack can appreciate. He remembers how proud he was of his first one, too, even if he did get it from the dollar store.

“That’s me,” Jack responds with a smile, then tilts his head. “What’s your name?”

“My name’s Les!” The kid responds with an enthusiastic smile. “Les Jacobs! I watched you, earlier- you’re really cool!”

And, oh, if that doesn’t make Jack’s heart burst. He kneels down so he can look up at the kid- Les- while he talks. “Well, thanks! That means a lot. Y’know what?”

“What?”

“You seem pretty cool, too.”

The kid’s face lights up. His smile gets impossibly wide, and he giggles- an airy sound that makes Jack chuckle. “Really? You think so?” Jack nods, and Les bounces on his toes. “Can I get a picture with you?”

“‘Course ya can,” Jack affirms with a laugh. “Do ya got a phone?”

“I got a brother!” Les exclaims, and not even a second later, he’s gone. Jack watches him as he races through the crowd, and he grabs the hand of someone standing off to the side- a tall someone, Jack notes. A tall someone with dark hair and light skin that rivals Jack’s own dark tan. A tall someone with a piercing gaze that makes Jack take in a deep breath when they lock eyes.

He looks calm and collected, until Les starts running and pulls the older boy behind him. There’s a flash of panic on his face and, suddenly, his cold expression is gone. Instead, he seems to be scolding the boy, but he quickly calms down as they approach Jack.

“David, take a picture! Please?” Les asks, and the older boy- David, presumably- raises a brow.

“Did you ask for a picture first?” He asks, giving Les a look, and Jack steps forward.

It takes him a second to find the words, feeling a bit thrown off by the boy’s voice, but he soon nods and clears his throat. “I don’t mind if you don’t,” He says easily, and even goes as far as to put his hand on Les’ shoulder. “It’s alright. He’s a good kid.”

“He’s a menace,” David replies, though he’s grinning- until he winces when Les punches his arm. “Ow! Okay, don’t hit the one with the phone.”

“You deserved it!”

“I think that statement is incorrect,” David deadpans, then gestures for Les to get closer to Jack. “Let’s do this,” He grins, then pulls out his phone.

Jack squats down again and throws his arm over the younger boy’s shoulder. Before they take the photo, though, Jack reaches up and takes off his hat. He then hands it to Les, who looks at him with wide eyes. After nodding, Les races to put the hat on. It’s a little big and a little lopsided, but his smile is worth it.

With that, Jack looks over at the camera and shoots his best smile, as well as giving a little thumbs up. He doesn’t move until David puts the phone back in his pocket. He stands and looks down at Les, who is holding out his hat. After a split second decision, Jack says, “Keep it. It’s yours, bud.”

Les blinks, then looks down at the hat in his hands. “Wait- Really?”

“Yep,” Jack says with a grin, popping the 'p'. “Keep it! You deserve it, little guy. Like I said, you're cool."

“You’re awesome!” Les yells, jumping up and down. He then puts the hat on, looks at David, and says, “I’m gonna go show Smalls!”

With that, the boy runs off, leaving Jack in a fit of laughter. He smiles wide and shakes his head, then turns to face David. “Your brother’s sweet,” He says with a grin, taking a step forward. After a moment, he holds his hand out to shake. “Jack Kelly. It’s nice to meet ya.”

David stares at his hand for a moment, then grins and shakes it. “David Jacobs,” He replies, and bites his lip as he pulls his hand away. “Thanks for that hat. Les isn't going to shut up about that for a while," David laghs softly, and Jack does, too, giving a small shrug of his shoulders. David looks over Jack for a moment, head to toe, then clears his throat. "You, uh… You were really good out there.”

“Thank you,” Jack says with a smile, then rubs his arm. “Are you from around here? I ain’t seen ya before.”

“We just moved here,” David nods. “A few weeks ago. Uh, like… the first week of summer.”

Jack nods and clicks his tongue. “Nice, nice. I’ll make sure to remember that, Davey,” He responds nonchalantly, the nickname rolling off of his tongue. He can’t help it; giving nicknames is his thing, and it’s a thing he’s good at.

“Davey?” David repeats with a chuckle, and crosses his arm. “That was quick. Not unpleasant, though.”

“Well,” Jack starts, and looks David up and down. He’s pretty cute- for a guy, that is. Not that Jack is interested, because Jack doesn’t like guys, not like that, but… “Meetin’ you has been a very pleasant experience so far. I ain’t complaining,” Jack smirks, and shoots David a wink. He’s about to speak again until he hears a name call over the loudspeaker, and he quickly straightens up. “Shit-- Hey, I gotta go, my friend’s ‘boutta go into the ring, but-- I’ll see ya around, okay?”

David nods, and Jack gulps when he sees him smile. God, that smile… It’s nice, and Jack hopes he can see it again. “I-- Yeah! Yeah, I’ll see you around,” David responds quickly. “Uh- Good luck with the, um, scoring stuff! I hope you did well.”

“Thanks,” Jack says with a laugh, then points his thumb over his shoulder. “I’m gonna… I gotta go, but--”

“Yeah, that’s-"

“Yeah- Okay, uh-”

“Sorry, I- Bye!”

“Bye,” Jack says with a breathless little laugh, and he stands there for just a few more seconds, holding David’s gaze, before he nods and takes off running back toward the arena, all thoughts of getting food flying out of his mind. He reaches the guard rail just as the signal goes off, and even climbs onto the first rung of the railing to cheer Katherine on. She’s going fast- really fast- and Jack can see that cocky smirk on her face. She knows she’s good, and Jack is undeniably proud of her.

But, even so, he can’t help but laugh when the timekeeper calls out her official time. Fifteen seconds.

Jack: one. Katherine: zero.

This will be fun to bicker over at dinner.

[goodomensblog]

Afterward - Part 18

A Good Omens Choose Your Own Adventure Fic

Here’s how it works:

I’ll write a scene.

At the end of each scene, you’ll be presented with 2-3 options for what the characters will choose to do next.

Comment or reblog to vote for your choice. I’ll count all votes after the first 24 hours after each update is posted.

Read: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9, part 10, part 11, part 12, part 13, part 14, part 15, part 16, part 17

(#3 wins! Once again, we’re going with the most chaotic option and I am here for it)

Afterward - - - Part 18

- - - - - - - - - - -

It is late, and the streets of London are quiet and tired when the Bentley growls into the barren parking lot. Overhead, garish yellow arches glow, a lackluster flickering beacon in the darkness.

Aziraphale glances up - and then back at the restaurant, and heaves a long, deep sigh. “Oh dear.”

“Oh fuck yes,” Beelzebub crows, sitting up.

“McDonald’s,” Gabriel says, voice flat with disinterest. “Is that one of yours...?”

“Oh yeah, yep,” Crowley answers, steering them into the drive through. The giant, back-lit menu bathes the passengers of the car in a dull, white glow.

By the time Crowley remembers to roll down the window, the speaker is crackling and hissing and a tired voice is saying, “-your order. Would you like to try our new Triple Grand Big Mac? It comes with triple the bacon and triple the cheese.”

“Just uh, give us a sec please,” Crowley says, and looks to Aziraphale first. “Angel, what do you-”

“I want the new Triple Grand Big Mac!” Beelzebub says, leaning over the front seat. Dark blood is still dripping down the side of their face, and Crowley recoils as it splatters on the car’s dark leather.

“Watch it with the blood!”

Shifting to see around Beelzebub, Aziraphale sighs and hums, fidgeting as he looks at the menu. “Well...perhaps the wrap? Hm...no. No. Never mind.”

Crowley feels hot breath horrifyingly near to the base of his neck, and glances back to see Gabriel’s awful face pressing up on his right, attempting to peer out the driver’s side window.

“What the hell, Gabriel!” Crowley snarls, jerking back - only to bump into Beelzebub, who is still very much leaking blood. “Oh, come on - gross.”

“What is...a McFlurry?” Gabriel asks ponderously from Crowley’s right, as Beelzebub shouts, “And I want one hundred chicken nuggets!”

“Listen,” Crowley replies, grimacing as he wipes blood off his shoulder, “they’re not gonna be able to make a hundred chicken nuggets. It’ll take too long-”

“Perhaps...the veggie dippers?” Aziraphale mutters and shudders. “Though maybe it would be best if-”

“Um - excuse me?” The voice from the speaker crackles. “Do you, uh, need help, sir?”

“No, no - we’re-”

“Yes,” Gabriel says, interrupting. “Listen. My body is a temple, and I will only soil it with the purest nutriments. Do you understand?”

From the speaker, comes a long, buzzing silence.

“So you’re um...like a vegan?”

“Veeegan,” Gabriel says, sounding it out.

“Oh my God,” Crowley groans, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I want fifty cheeseburger Happy Meals,” Beelzebub demands, leaning over Crowley. “And don’t you dare leave out the toys!”

“Sorry? You want fifty-”

“Do you think they could make me a deconstructed burger?” Aziraphale muses.

“If I am going to debase myself with food, it must be organic, sugar free, have no preservatives, be keto friendly-”

“And give me forty-five ice cream cones - with the flakes!”

“Excuse me - what?!”

“-of course no trans fats, no GMOs, no partially hydrogenated soybean oil-”

“...perhaps I could request they leave off the pickles. The acidity really does tend to bring down the entire flavor profile-”

“-and seventy no - eighty hash browns! I want them double fried, no triple-”

“That is….ENOUGH!” Crowley shouts, laying his hand on the horn; and finally, the car’s passengers go completely and mercifully silent.

“...sir?” The voice from the speaker squeaks out, hesitant.

“Yeah, sorry about all that. I’m ready now.”

Ten minutes later, the Bentley rolls out of the drive through.

Aziraphale sits, lips pursed, with a salad in his lap and a large milkshake balanced between his knees. Beelzebub is slouched with several greasy boxes of nuggets between their legs and an ice cream cone in each fist. Beside them, Gabriel sits, lips curling in disgust as he peers suspiciously at the baggies of baby carrots scattered over his lap. 

Crowley, black coffee in hand and a small, greasy bag of fries set beside him, takes a long, slow sip of the drink. He clears his throat, and says with a measure of defeat, “Okay, yeah, fine - I’ll pop over to the store later to get us some better food.”

“Oh thank Heavens,” Aziraphale sighs; giving Crowley a conciliatory smile, he takes a dainty sip of his shake.

By the time they pull up in front of the bookshop, the car is littered with fast food wrappers, and Crowley sits in his seat, glaring, until quick hands snatch up the trash. 

“Thank you,” he mutters, and shoves open the door.

So eager is Crowley to return to the well worn sofas and sleepy warmth of Aziraphale’s bookshop, that he doesn’t even consider the possibility of enemies or traps until his hand is on the door. 

Fingers twisting around door handles, he halts. Aziraphale bumps into his back with a muffled noise of shock.

“Crowley-?” Aziraphale asks, pressing a warm, steady hand against his back.

Lowering his glasses, Crowley shifts to the side and takes a long, scrutinizing look through the dim windows. 

It’s unlikely that Entropy would know to find them here. But...they’d underestimated the void creature before - and they were in no shape to fight their way out of a trap. 

“Wait here,” Crowley says, glancing back at Aziraphale. “I’m gonna check it out. Make sure no one’s lying in wait.”

“Not by yourself, you’re not!” Aziraphale protests, reaching for his arm.

Crowley turns a considering look at the company crowding his back.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Before they can retreat into the safety of Aziraphale’s bookshop, Crowley needs to verify that it IS actually still safe and there aren’t traps or enemies lying in wait. Aziraphale insists that he shouldn’t go alone, and Crowley decides…

To take Aziraphale with him to check the shop for dangers. Aziraphale is injured, but a part of Crowley would rather they stick together. Besides, if something is lying in wait, Crowley would give his life before he allowed harm to come to Aziraphale. Team Ineffable Husbands is a go!

To take Gabriel with him to check the shop for dangers. Okay, yes, Crowley does technically hate Gabriel. But Gabriel is less injured than both Aziraphale and Beelzebub, and the archangel does still have an ethereal sword up his metaphysical sleeve. Crowley is willing to put up with Gabriel if it means keeping Aziraphale out of harm’s way. Team Inimical Assholes is a go!

To take Beelzebub with him to check the shop for dangers. Beelzebub annoys Crowley slightly less than Gabriel, and despite their injuries, Beelzebub is a powerful ally to have in a fight and seems to have a nose for sniffing out enemies. Team Awkward Demons is a go!

To go in alone, despite Aziraphale’s protests. Aziraphale is injured and Crowley would rather face any potential traps knowing that Aziraphale is safely out of harm’s way. He doesn’t need backup anyway. Team... just Crowley is a go!

Please comment or reblog to vote! :)

And yes, McDonald’s does actually sell tiny baggies of carrots.

Part 19

[askaceattorney]

(Previous Post)

Dear guquis,

Co-Mod: Well, that’s a relief.  I thought a mass crucifixion sounded a little dark for the Pokemon universe, but you never know these days.

(Referenced Letter)

Dear mungeondaster,

Mod Edgeworth: Wow, I just spotted this when going through our list of letters. Your comment is appreciated, though.

Co-Mod: Glad to hear it, and thanks!  I wish I knew for sure who wrote that response, but regardless, I have to agree that it was hilarious.  I almost want to see Pearl using Edgeworth’s cravat that way now.

(Playlist in Letter)

Dear bluedragoncody,

Mod Edgeworth: I’m not usually one for countdown videos, but I suppose I can check these out when I get the chance.

Co-Mod: I only had time to watch the “Top Fourteen Ace Attorneys” video and I just have to say, anyone who places Athena in their top three clearly knows what they’re talking about.  I also enjoy it when someone puts effort into editing a video (especially one that involves original art), so I appreciate that as well as his insight into the characters.

Dear Vivyn,

Co-Mod: It’s actually pretty simple.  Just click the gear icon in the top-right corner of your editing window (for lack of a better term), then go to the drop-down menu next to Text Editor, select HTML, and place the text you want to be small between the tags <small> and </small>.

Example: I’m sorry!  <small>For the way you were raised...</small>

I hope you’ll make good use of it!

Dear Anonymous,

Co-Mod: I agree, at least in terms of class.

(If we put aside her bad whipping habits, at least.)

When it comes to style, on the other hand...

Sorry, but nobody out-styles the Cykester.  I welcome any challenger to her superb styles in the courtroom (as would she, I’d imagine).

Dear Rogertheegg,

Mod Edgeworth: I’d like to have known more about Gregory Edgeworth. He’s the best Defense Attorney and Best Dad.

Co-Mod: I'd love to know more about Detective Arme’s background, too, now that you mention it.  The attitude she displayed upon discovering Ted Tonate’s bomb-selling business makes you wonder what she was like on the job.

I’d also kind of like to know a little more about Cinder Block Cindy Stone.  I’m not exactly a huge fan of models with a bunch of Sugar Daddies, but she apparently felt some attachment to at least one of them, as pointed out by Phoenix.

And to top it off, it’s the Butz, of all people.  That takes a special kind of girl.  I almost (almost) want to see what their relationship could’ve become if not for her cruel fate.

(Previous Letter)

Dear Anonymous,

Co-Mod: Can do!  His tag is now #British Judge.  With that in mind, we may have to pick something else for the judge from Professor Layton vs. Ace Attorney, but we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.  That’s become my main strategy for new things here, anyway.

Mod Justice: Perfect. Thanks!

Also, regarding Co-Mod’s response above: here’s an idea for the PLvsAA Judge: “English Judge” (I mean, he DOES appear in “The English Turnabout,” after all).

Dear dawsongfg,

Mod Edgeworth: ...... they’re alright. I prefer the ones with chocolate chip or from Dennys.

Co-Mod: I’m more of a waffle fan.  Pancakes are nice, but...kinda boring to look at, in my opinion.  Of course, that might just be because I once worked at McDonald’s, where I saw more than my fair share of them.

Mod Justice: They’re fine, but I always preferred the “Fast Food Breakfast Staple”: the Breakfast Sandwich. I especially love the ones at McDonalds with the “Griddles” as the bread! That with sausage, egg and cheese between them are definitely my favorites out of all the variations.

(Referenced Letter)

Dear Dawsongfg,

Mod Edgeworth: How about this?

NO!

Mod Justice: You mean Little Ms. Robo-Voice? NO THANK YOU.

Although I wonder... could the AAI2 Translation Team replace that voice only?

(Referenced Post)

Dear Dawsongfg,

Co-Mod: Hmm, how to word this...  It wasn’t really scary so much as unpleasant.  I knew Trucy wouldn’t harm me, but that didn’t make being tied to a chair and stuck in a dim, dank closet for several hours any more fun.  If she wasn’t one of my favorite cha--

Ahem...  If she wasn’t one of my favorite performers in the world, I’d probably be suing the panties off her.

Dear dawsongfg again,

Mod Edgeworth: I personally don’t mind, but I think Mod Justice was kinda like

Co-Mod: I’m guessing you’re referring to letters that are intentionally rude.  So long as you’re not purposefully insulting a specific person or a specific group of people, you can be as much of a troll as you want.  The good kind, that is.

Mod Justice: Yeah, we really need to get some more clarification regarding “Troll Posts” here. Don’t worry, they should be up soon enough after this post makes it out of the queue.

Dear Anonymous,

Mod Edgeworth: HOLD IT! (turns on this song) Proceed.

Dear dawsongfg again (again),

Mod Edgeworth: Yes. In fact, I have the full set of Phoenix Wright and Miles Edgeworth mangas, including the two casebooks.

Co-Mod: I haven’t, actually.  I might have to do that sometime soon just so I can protect my Nerdiest Ace Attorney Nerd title (which I just made up).

Mod Justice: Can’t say I have, honestly. I’m not too big on Manga anyway. Never could get into it, no matter how hard I tried...

-The Mods

[toastedside]

Batfamily and Batmom goes to Bali headcanon✈✈🌊  (1)

A/N: Okay!!! I am actually super excited about this and wrote a few elaborated headcanons about this. I shamelessly insert my own experience in Bali. Just enjoy their shenanigans!

It took a while for you to convince everyone, especially Bruce, to have a whole family vacation. You understand, but you couldn’t help thinking everyone in this goddamn household need some time away from everything

So when everyone finally agree you arrange everything. By everything I mean every single fucking thing. You even dismissed Alfred’s help in arranging holidays because you already have ideas on which place you want to go.

Of course it’ll be the farthest place you can think about; Bali.

Bruce was a little adamant but looking at how excited you are he couldn’t say no

The kids were so thrilled, even Damian smiled when you announce the destination. Cassandra smiled too

Everything was running smooth for a while, the trip to the airport was fine until Tim screamed that he left his passport on his desk

You were fuming. But thankfully since you came four hours early, he still had time to fetch his passport and back to the airport. You are still upset although relieved that everything fell back into places

The flight was... amusing to say the least. Everyone can only sit still for a little time and the flight literally took fourteen hours

Needless to say, you have to step on your feet and ban Jason from drinking too much champagne

The flight transit in Seoul first and you spent some time exploring the airport

You had no idea how your kids manage to spend so many moneys on McDonald’s but you are too happy to actually protest

Alfred strolling around checking all interesting places in the airport. No one actually have any idea where Alfred is most of the time, but no one really question it since he always appeared at the right time and the right place

You and Cassandra went to check some local souvenirs and duty-free make ups

You bought her a lip gloss

Dick bought a lot of duty-free chocolates.

Jason steal some of it. Dick didn’t appreciate it

Bruce spent his time in the lounge reading

Damian was his silent company, he pulled out his sketchbook and spent hours drawing sights he found interesting

Tim fell asleep in the lounge too. Damian definitely drew his sleeping face

The flight from Seoul to Bali was shorter and a lot calmer this time. Everyone was too exhausted to pull any shenanigans

As soon as everyone exited the immigration gate you are welcomed by live performance of traditional music. Damian was intrigued and took a little negotiation from your side to leave the freaking airport

The ride to your hotel took three goddamn hours and everyone was dead asleep

Bali is a whole goddamn island, guys, and it’s huge

By the time you guys arrived in your hotel, it was late and everyone was jet lagged and exhausted to say the least.

Next morning you wake everyone up before the sun even rise, earned some grumble and complain from your children

“Ma, it’s 5 AM why on earth are you taking us to the beach?”

You didn’t say anything and managed to shove everyone into the local fishermen’s boat. The beautiful sight of sunrise is what snapped everyone awake

Choruses of “whoa” and “we never get to see this at home” filled the boat

The sea was really calm and everyone enjoyed moment of serenity as they watch the sun slowly rising in the horizon, admiring the pink streak against the dark sky

 “Wait, is that what I think it is?”

“Oh my god, it’s a dolphin!”

Everyone suddenly fully awake and make it into competition who manage to get the most sights of the dolphins

Damian was the most excited out of bunch, he didn’t even budge from his seat. He was busy admiring dolphins swimming in between fishermen’s boat, in their natural habitat and not in some inhuman aquariums

Jason definitely tried to jumped from the boat to swim

Alfred took a bunch of photos of everyone; he was just happy to see everyone relaxed and not burdened by responsibilities

You guys back to the beach by eight to have breakfast together. Everyone kept talking about the dolphin sights and the beautiful sunrise

It was endearing to see your children getting along with each other

 After breakfast everyone packed their belongings and moved into another hotel in Nusa Dua and it took two hours to get there by car

This is where you spend the rest of your holiday

The hotel was bigger and a lot nicer. Everyone fought on which room they will occupy and you wordlessly put your belongings in the nicest room

You vetoed everyone’s choices and sent them into their designated rooms, daring anyone who have words against your choice

The hotel had a private beach near the swimming pool, and there is where you spend your time with Bruce, talking. It is rare to have some quiet moment with your husband with your children around constantly screaming

Again, Alfred is nowhere to be seen. He wander around by himself but still, show up at the right place and the right time at the right moment. Nobody really ask any question

Dick was baffled with the lack of toilet paper in the toilets

“Apparently it’s not the norm to use toilet papers here. They use... jet showers.”

It took him a while to warm up with the idea but he didn’t hate it. He actually quite prefers it rather than toilet papers

Jason challenged Cassie on who can do the most laps in swimming pool. Cassie wins.

Dinnertime was spent in a famous beach restaurant in Jimbaran while watching the sunset by the beach

Tim complained a lot about the sands

“Shut up, Drake.”

Alfred brought his little camera everywhere and took bunch of pictures of everyone and the sunset

You and Bruce spent time walking hand in hand by the beach, enjoy the way the sand dipped underneath your feet and how the sea washed your feet

Dick somehow managed to attract locals a lot. A lot of them asking him to take some pictures with him. Which he didn’t mind, he found it amusing

Cue everyone’s eye roll

The reason Dick willingly to took pictures with locals was they definitely don’t have any slightest idea who he is. Not even a little bit. They just thought he is some random handsome international tourist. Or “bule” as the locals called it

“That kind old lady over there called me a handsome bule and pinched my cheek. I feel so oddly loved somehow?”

Everyone was actually a little surprised to find a lot of foreigner here. But then again, this is a famous tourist attraction

Dinner was served, and today’s menu was seafood. Damian frowned a bit but brightened up a little when you told him you bought him a lot of vegetables stir-fried

The portion was... huge

But everyone managed to eat every single of your orders. Clean plate society over here

“Ummi, the vegetables here are tasty. It has a lot of flavor.”

You’re just happy that he is happy

Dinnertime was actually nice, everyone was happy and satisfied with their food. With the sight of the sky slowly darkens as the sun sets, with the sound of the wave hitting the beach, and the sand beneath your feet as a constant reminder of where you are. You cannot be happier

[yourfavoriteagent]

Your Midnight Company Part 3

Hey guys! Here’s part 3 I promised! I hope you’re liking the series so far! I’m having a blast writing it!

Also found on my AO3: Here!

Content Warnings: None

It had been three days and you’ve only heard from Spencer a few times, he texted you briefly the first night he got there but other than that it’s been short check-in texts for the most part. One day he was waiting for his boss to get back and he had a moment to talk. He told you it was a rough case but they think they’re getting it and how he should be back within the week. He also mentioned how he was excited to see you again which made your heart do cartwheels in your chest.

———-

S: ’guess who’s coming home! :)’ ‘you???” S: ‘wow how’d you get that so quick? Yep! We lift off in an hour.’ ‘how was the case?’ S: ‘I can’t talk about it but it wasn’t an easy one, I’m just glad it’s over’ ‘aww, I'm sorry :/ I’m glad you’re coming home, unfortunately, I don’t work tmrw but I work Thursday so you should come in then!’ S: ’what if instead… I take you out to dinner tomorrow?” You stopped in your tracks, like a date? Was this a date? Are you two dating? ‘like a date?’ You pull the trigger and ask, terrified of his response, yeah he was cute and you did like him there was nothing to not like, you just didn’t want to look like an idiot and assume. S: ‘is that alright with you?’ ‘yes! That’s perfect with me! A date it is!’ you’re grinning from behind your phone, wow a date with Spencer Reid, sorry, Doctor Spencer Reid. S:’ I’ll pick you up at 7?’ ‘sounds great, I can’t wait.”

———

The next day drags on, every time you look at the clock it’s only been two minutes since the last time you looked. You have never sat through a longer one hour lecture in your life. Finally, it was 3 pm, your final lecture of the day. This one lasted until 4:30, you tried your best to read the slides your professor was putting up but every thought was about tonight. You had a whole outfit planned out, you knew exactly what makeup you would wear, the only problem is you have no idea where you’d be going, he could take you to McDonald's for all you know. The clock hits 4:30 while your professor is rambling about an essay due in a few weeks, you practically jump out of your seat when the professor dismisses the class. Okay, it would take you about 20 minutes to get home on the bus then you’d have like 2 hours to get ready. You’re planning out your time in your head so much you nearly miss your stop. You unlock your door and set your bag down, realizing you hadn’t heard much from Spencer today and he didn’t know where you lived, you’d been way too distracted with the thought of tonight and your classes.

‘hey cutie, did I give you my address?”

After sending the text along with your address you walked into your bedroom shucking off your clothes and setting out the dress you planned to wear tonight. The jumped in the shower washing everything you could think of, you were so nervous which is weird because you’ve spent a good amount of your time talking to him but somehow this was different. It was all real for the first time. You dry off and head back to your bedroom to slap on some makeup, you kept it elegant but simple, opting for a pair of subtle lashes and some tinted lip balm. You wanted the “you but better” look. You decided to go with loose curls in your hair, making it bouncy and smooth. Next, you slid on your dress, it was a dark green slip dress, nothing super fancy but still nice. The gold jewelry you paired with it stood out against the darkness of the dress. You were looking over yourself in the mirror when the doorbell rang, he was 3 minutes early. You rush down the hall with your flats in hand. You hoped you looked good as you threw open the door, trying your best to look like you hadn’t just run through your apartment. “Wow, you look amazing.” He smiled draping a black coat over his arm, he was wearing a white button-down with the top two buttons undone and a pair of nice black pants, you looked stunning. “I could say the same to you.” You were grinning ear to ear as you reached around the door to your side table where you grabbed your purse then you were out the door. He held his hand out to yours and walked you down your hallway and out into the cool night air. Thankfully it wasn’t raining tonight so the two of you walked a few blocks down to a nice Italian restaurant you've never eaten at, it had always looked too expensive for you, but he opened the door for you and the two of you walked right in. “Reservation for Dr. Reid.” He said to the woman at the front desk, she nodded and told him to follow her. She walked us through the tables until we got to the back where there was a table with a single candle on top. It was next to the window that showed off the lights of the city. It was beautiful. He pulled your chair out for you and sat down across from you. You were looking around the restaurant at all the hanging lights and paintings on the walls. “This place is so nice, Spencer you didn’t have to bring me here.” “Why would I not want to give you the best I could provide,” he smiled and reached across the table for your hands, “Besides, I pass this place on my way to work every day I’ve always dreamt of bringing the perfect girl here for the perfect night.” You blushed hard at this, “A hopeless romantic?” “You could say that.” He hadn’t stopped smiling since he picked you up. A waitress came by with two menus and water for both of you. He ordered a chicken alfredo and you got the mushroom ravioli, it was beyond delicious but also ridiculously expensive. I mean who would pay $27 for pasta? Apparently, Spencer would, he would buy even more, you two got a brownie with homemade ice-cream to share at the end of your date. Aside from the food you two talked, he talked a bit about his case, although not being able to provide too many details, apparently there was a serial killer in Boston that was preying on young girls, he said it like it was so standard. Almost like it was boring, you couldn’t imagine what it would take to shake him up. Before dessert, he pulled a brown paper wrapped package from his coat pocket and slid it across the table to you. “What’s this?” You ask. “It’s for you, I saw it in a bookshop in Boston and thought of you.” He smiled, “Go on, open it!” You tore at the wrapping uncovering a book. It was a gorgeous edition of The Ship of Theseus. You remembered talking about this the first day you two met. You put it in your Amazon wishlist of things to buy with your next paycheck but he already bought it for you. “Spencer, you didn’t have to! Thank you so much!” You flip the book over to look at all the detail of the cover. “I was hoping you hadn’t bought it for yourself already. I think you’ll like it.” He smiles, his eyes were bright and happy. It was a wonderful sight.

———

The check came but before the lady could come back with Spencer’s card he gets a call. “Sorry,” He says picking up the phone and starting to stand up. “This is Dr. Reid. I see. Okay, I’ll be there in ten.” “All good?” You ask as the woman comes back with the card. “Yeah I think so, I’m so sorry to ask this but I need to run to my office for a moment, would you mind coming with me? It’s just down the street, I’ll walk you home right after.” He looks at you apologetically, you guess this was not the perfect date night he had imagined for the two of you. “Oh, of course, I don’t mind at all. Is it okay that I’m there?” You ask getting up out of your seat and grabbing your purse. “Yeah, I’ll talk to Hotch it should be fine.” He takes your hand and you two walk out of the restaurant hand in hand. He wasn’t kidding when he said he passes this place on his way to work, he stopped at a building four doors down and handed you his coat. “Here, it’ll only be a second.” Then you stepped into the BAU for the first time.

[snarkythewoecrow]

Sorry if this is weirdly specific. Peter’s calorie counting app helps him relax. Tony’s not sure that’s healthy. Not an eating disorder prompt per se - more like Tony catching a troubling pattern early and trying to nip it in the bud.

*TRIGGER WARNING FOR EATING DISORDER*

Read on AO3

Peter checked the back of the crinkly cellophane wrapper, noting the calories. One hundred and fifty in just one of the two cakes in the package. That seemed like a lot for a measly mass-produced coffee cake barely the size of a plum. He started to regret eating it a little, but instead, he pushed the feeling aside, focusing on the numbers and logging them into the app on his phone.

It was a calorie tracking app, and he hadn’t meant to keep it past his initial experiments with his metabolism. Still, the habit he’d formed over those few months logging the data had become something of a comforting ritual. He liked the familiarity of it. It soothed his nerves. The simple process of recording each thing he ate helped calm him.

Today he’d already eaten nearly three thousand calories, and sickly, he realized most of them were from junk. He absently touched his stomach and poked his belly through his shirt. It didn’t feel soft, but that was probably only due to his insane metabolism and extracurricular activities.

Setting the phone down on his desk, he leaned back in his chair and looked out the window. It was still early enough he could go out, so snapping his chair back onto four legs, he hopped up and grabbed his suit from the closet, making quick work of changing. May wouldn’t be home for a few more hours. She’d had switched to the swing shift for the rest of the week, so she was at work until nearly midnight.

It turned out to be a quiet night, but he did stop a bike theft and saved a dog from being run over, so he called it a win. The kid whose dog he’d rescued gave him a Snickers in thanks, and Peter had taken it to a nearby roof to eat.

During his initial experiment where he logged his calories, he’d installed the program into Karen, syncing it to his phone, helping to keep track of the data. It was only supposed to be for six weeks, but that had gone out the window.  Not even Tony knew he was still logging the calories. Honestly, it didn’t seem like a big enough thing to bring up. It seemed relatively harmless, almost like a game. There were a few times he’d challenged himself to go with the bare minimum of calories. It wasn’t like he did it to hurt himself. It had just become addictive in a way.

Sitting on the building's ledge, he twirled the candy bar in his hands and then stopped to examine the nutrition facts. It wasn’t good at all. It had two hundred and fifteen in just one bar. That made his stomach twist funny. It wasn’t the first time lately that he’d hesitated over something’s calorie count.

“Karen, can you bring up my logbook?”

“Sure, Peter.”

His daily and weekly totals showed on the HUD. He cringed at how much he’d already eaten.

“Thanks, Karen. I saw what I needed. You can close it. I think I’m gonna head home. I’m feeling kinda tired now.”

“Of course, Peter. I’ll plot a course.”

Peter dropped down to the street and passed the candy bar off to the first homeless person he saw. He didn’t need to eat. Just making that choice gave him a rush of control, a little thrill. It felt good in a bad way to deny himself.

XXX

After school the next day, Peter was due to go to the tower to visit Tony. They were going to work on integrating the nanotech into his web-shooters. While he sat in the back of the black Audi as Happy maneuvered them in and out of traffic, Peter soothed his frazzled nerves from the day by looking over his app and seeing what he logged.

He’d done better about controlling his choices. He’d cut out most of the junk, other than the school pizza anyway, but he knew he needed some fat for his metabolism to burn. It wasn’t like he was planning to starve himself. He just liked the feeling denying himself gave him. When school and Spider-man had him stressed, this, this was something that he could control.

Happy didn’t say much as he drove, only calling over his shoulder once to see if Peter wanted him to swing by McDonald’s before they got to the tower. Maybe a few weeks ago, even a few days ago, he might have said yes, but today he wasn’t feeling it. He could only think about how many calories it was.

“No, I’m good. I ate at school.”

Happy met his gaze through the mirror, seeming to search his face. “If you’re sure. You used to eat half the menu. What changed?”

Peter shrugged, turning to look out the window. “Nothing, just not hungry.” He glanced back at Happy and tried for a smile. It probably looked forced.

Happy hummed to himself then raised the divider, leaving Peter to his thoughts.

When they got to the tower, Peter waved bye to Happy and then headed to the elevator, asking Friday to take him to whatever floor Tony was on. It turned out to be the workshop.

Music played from somewhere in the workshop, and Tony was bent over his workbench, tools in hand. The volume lowered automatically when Peter entered, making Tony look up.

“Hey, kid, how goes the spidey battle?”

Peter shrugged. “Nothing to report. Things have been okay. May’s working a lot this week, got detention once for falling asleep, but that was totally not my fault.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “Let me guess, Tuesday? I check the reports. You were out until a little after midnight on Monday.”

“Oh, yeah, well, May is working new hours.”

“So, you thought you should ignore your curfew?”

Peter winced. “Yes?”

Tony snorted, shaking his head. “Toss your bag on the chair and get over here. We have work to do.”

They worked together for a few hours until Tony’s stomach made an audible protest, making the man pause. “I think it’s probably time to call it quits for the night and get something to eat.”

Peter froze for a second. “Oh, um, yeah, I’m not really that hungry, though. I’ll be fine.”

“Give me a break, Pete. I’ve seen the data. I know how much you need to eat. I’ll order up some pies, and we can eat upstairs.”

He tried to smile, but he only managed to make the corners of his mouth twitch. “Okay, yeah. Pizza sounds good.”

When the food came, Tony set the pizza boxes on the counter and grabbed them each a plate, plopping two big slices on top of each other on Peter’s.

Following Tony to the living room, they sat on the couch, and Peter started nibbling on his pizza. After the first slice was gone, he paused, setting his plate on his lap to pull out his phone. Not thinking about Tony in the same room, he opened the app and started inputting his meal's data. He was already stressing a little about having two slices on his plate. It was going to be a lot of calories. It was a good thing he hadn’t eaten much before coming over.

Tony’s voice pulled him from his thoughts.

“Isn’t that the metabolic recording app I designed? I thought we were all done with that. Why are you still using it?”

“Huh? Oh, this?” Peter flashed him his phone screen. “Um, yeah. It’s the same program. I was just—I was just doing a little more research to confirm our findings. That’s all. Nothing to worry about.”

“I wasn’t worried about it, but I gotta say, now I’m a little curious as to why you’re lying about it. It’s cute how you think you can pass one by me, Pinocchio.”

Peter’s eyes went wide, and he stared at Tony, unsure what to say. It wasn’t like he was trying to hide anything, but Tony wouldn’t understand either. “I wasn’t—it’s stupid.”

“Stupid is as stupid does,” Tony said, taking a bite of pizza. “No truer words.”

“What? Is that a reference?”

“Heathen. Enough distracting me. What’s up, muchacho?”

Peter fiddled with his phone, and then stuffed it into his hoodie pouch, setting his plate on the coffee table after. Without meeting Tony’s gaze, he cleared his throat and tried to think of a way to explain it.

“It’s really not a big deal. I don’t know why we have to talk about it.”

“You not wanting to talk about it is precisely why we need to, so spill.”

Sighing, Peter bit the bullet and started his stuttered explanation.

“Putting in the numbers, it became sorta like a habit, I guess. It was cool seeing a chart of what I’ve eaten. I know it sounds weird.” Peter chanced a look at Tony. The man had set his pizza down on the coffee table, too. His expression was scrutinizing. “So, um, I kinda set myself goals, you know? Just like can I stay under a certain amount, or other days, I could eat better. I don’t know how it started. But the process, the numbers, they were soothing. They are soothing.” Peter kept his gaze on his hands that were clasped in his lap, unsure what he was hiding from. It wasn’t like what he was doing was that bad. “So, yeah, that’s what’s up. Told you it’s nothing big.”

Tony was quiet for a moment until Peter heard him let out a breath. When he glanced up, Tony was scratching at his chin, his head tilted to the side, eyes sharp and cutting right through Peter.

“Pete, that’s the definition of something big or the start of it. I don’t know a lot about head shrinking, but I’ve seen enough after school specials to know you’re on a slippery slope.”

“It’s not—I’m not anorexic or anything. I swear. It’s just the app. I’m not trying to lose weight. I’m not starving myself. You just watched me eat.”

Tony sighed, scrubbing a hand over his mouth before dropping it. “Kid, I know you might not see it that way, but trust me on this. From the outside, it doesn’t look healthy.”

Peter frowned, trying to think over his actions through a different lens. If this had been someone else, MJ or Ned, Peter would probably be feeling the same way as Tony. Then why didn’t it feel like a big deal for him to do it? Was what he was doing really that dangerous? His brow furrowed in thought.

“It doesn’t feel like it’s that bad. Wouldn’t I know if I had an eating disorder?”

Tony shook his head a little, then shrugged his shoulder, wiggling his hand back and forth like he was weighing options. “You could, or it could just be the start of one. Either way, I think the first step should be getting rid of that app, remove the temptation. Though I think you might need more than that.”

“Like what?” Peter asked, already feeling a little anxious at the idea of losing his app. It was like a security blanket for him. He’d been logging for months. He didn’t want to lose all that data. It was like a journal of his good and bad days, his accomplishments, and his failures. Sometimes he did like looking back and studying the past weeks, seeing where he could have done better. The action itself soothed him. And now he was losing that.

“I don’t know, therapy would be my first guess, and I think your aunt needs to know, so she can keep an eye on things. I don’t know a lot about eating disorders, but I know about addiction, and I think they share some traits.”

Peter sank back into the couch, looking over at Tony with a frown. “Do we have to tell her? It just feels weird. Like it doesn’t feel like this is really a problem. I felt in control like I knew what I was doing. It doesn’t feel dangerous or like an eating disorder. I don’t want to worry her over nothing.”

“I need you to put on your listening ears here, kid. If this were anyone else, would you feel the same? I don’t think you would. I think Spider-Man would feel the same way I do. I’m not worried over nothing, and you shouldn’t just brush this aside. This could be the start of something that could take over your life. I don’t want that for you, Pete.”

Thinking back to MJ and Ned, Peter knew the truth. He knew that for anyone else, he would be concerned.

Sighing, he nodded slowly while twisting his fingers in his lap. “Okay, we can tell her, and I’ll delete the app. As much as I don’t want to believe it, maybe you’re right.”

“Okay, do you want to tell her together?”

Peter licked his lips, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth, chewing on it as he thought. He wasn’t sure he would have the courage to tell her on his own, but if Tony were there, maybe it would be the push he needed. If only he could get over the feeling of shame that was building in him, shame for letting this become a problem in the first place. He thought he was smarter than that. He should have known, should have seen the signs. How could he be so blind?

“Yeah, but can we wait until tomorrow to tell her? I’m not ready tonight.”

“That’s fine. I don’t think you're in immediate danger. If I thought that, this would have gone differently. I think we can take our time and figure out how to tell her. Your hot aunt probably knows a few things about this, given her career path.” Tony raised a brow, waggling a finger a Peter. “Don’t make that face. Didn’t anyone ever tell you your face could get stuck that way?”

“I’m not making a face.”

Tony scoffed. “You looked like your sucking on a Warhead.”

“Ew, I hate those.”

“The youth of today appreciate nothing.” Tony reached over to the coffee table and grabbed his abandoned dinner. Taking a bite of the cold pizza. He waved a hand in the direction of Peter’s remaining slice. “Eat up, kiddo. Cold pizza is the best pizza.”

With a nod, Peter sat forward and grabbed his plate, picking his slice of pizza up with his other hand. With probably too much thought about what he was feeling, he took a bite. He realized as he focused on what he felt that there was a tiny spike of fear, and he knew that wasn’t normal. This was something new in the last few months.

Now that he thought about it, he could remember that little feeling attached to most of his meals, getting more prominent as time went on. His fingers itched to record the calories, and he realized that he did have a problem. Something else inside him was steering his decisions, and he didn’t know how to feel about that. The knowledge hit him hard, making an invisible band tighten around his chest.

He pushed the feelings aside the best he could and focused on eating. He wouldn’t let this beat him. He’d tell May, and he’d do better. Spider-Man, Peter Parker, wouldn’t let this get him down. He’d find a way to fight it, and he was pretty sure he could. He had Tony and May in his corner.

[carryonsimoncarryonbaz]

NEW FIC!!!

Written for the Carry On Quarantine event organized by @xivz​ for the prompt of food delivery. My thanks to @fight-surrender​ and @basic-banshee​ for the beta reads and support!!

Baz is a teacher quarantined at home and Simon is doing temp work delivering food for The Girl and the Goat, a local pub. A craving for a burger leads to Baz ordering from the pub, followed by weeks of mutual pining, the slow burn of a developing relationship thwarted by the physical constraints of social distancing, and a refrigerator full of pub food. Movie nights, exasperated friends, lots of texts, way too much food, and multiple awkward encounters. 

Let My Love Open the Door

Baz

I close my laptop and drop my head down onto it. I’m knackered. The metal feels cool against my forehead. I roll my face from side to side, relishing the smooth chill of it against my cheeks. And then I remember.

Fuck, now I have to disinfect the damn thing.

I’m done. Done for the day but also so done with this.

How can I be expected to effectively teach students—Sixth Form students at that—from a computer terminal? I’m almost three weeks into this, but their looming A Levels and GSCE’s are still on schedule for May.

That’s less than two months away. Five weeks and three days, to be exact.

Thank fuck it’s Friday. I’ll at least have two days to prepare next week’s frightfully inadequate lesson plan.

I grab a disinfecting wipe from the canister and methodically wipe down my laptop. I’m not sick—not a cough, not a sniffle—but I’ve bought into this not touching my face directive and I shouldn’t be smearing my germs on random surfaces. For all I know I could be carrying this thing. One of the asymptomatic Typhoid Marys, spreading it far and wide.

Not that there’s anyone to spread it to, seeing as I’m on my own here, but I wipe the laptop down anyway, unnerved by the whole idea of it.

I’ve washed my hands more in the past month than I have in my entire life. I spent the first day at home wiping down every surface, laundering the bedding, mopping the floors. My house went from having a pleasant, woodsy scent to the overwhelming stench of bleach instead.

It gave me such a headache that I had to open the windows and damn near froze. Bloody coldest March we’ve had in years. April’s not proving to be much better.

My mobile buzzes. I should have left it in the bedroom but I’ve become painfully attached to it.

If I’m not planning out curriculum, video conferencing with my class, answering frantic emails from parents, students, the other teachers at my school, or compulsively cleaning and reorganizing my house, then I’m moodily scrolling through Twitter and Instagram and ratcheting up my anxiety.

I should delete my social media.

My mobile buzzes again.

I glance at my watch. It’s six o’clock.

Bound to be Wellbelove.

Wellbelove: are you done yet?

Wellbelove: Baz!!

Wellbelove: you can’t still be doing classwork it’s after 5

Wellbelove: BAAAAZZZZ

Me: Give it a rest, Wellbelove. Some of us are actually working from home.

Wellbelove: I am working, you poncy bastard I’m obviously far more efficient than you.

Me: Look, some of us can’t just post our morning exercise routine and somehow have that count as work.

Wellbelove: Why are we friends again? Can you remind me why I put up with this slander from you?

Me: Because of my sparkling wit and undeniable charm.

Wellbelove: more like your fashion sense and propensity to pick up the bill when we eat out. Neither of which are in evidence at the moment so I may have to rethink my devotion to you

Me: Still, I’m indispensable.

Wellbelove: then buy me dinner. what are we watching tonight?

This all started at the end of that first week, when Agatha couldn’t concentrate on the book she was trying to read and I’d reached the pulling-my-hair-out state of lesson planning. She suggested we watch a film together—FaceTiming while our Netflix accounts played in sync.

We’ve done that almost every night since. Dinner and a movie, separately, from a distance.

We spend almost as much time arguing over what to watch as we do watching, but that’s just how we are. I’ve known Agatha Wellbelove since we were toddlers at the same crèche when our parents were at uni. Same primary school, same secondary school.

We drifted apart during our uni years, with Agatha at Brighton for phys Ed and Oxford to read for English Language and Literature for me.  

It was some bizarre twist of fate that we were both hired to teach at the same secondary school in Chilham. She was the last person I expected to see on my orientation day.

We picked up where we left off, latching onto each other as we navigated our first real world experience after uni.

It’s been three years now and I think the past three weeks have been the longest stretch we’ve gone without seeing each other since we moved here.

She’s self-centered, brutally straight-forward, horribly short-tempered, dreadfully impatient, and devastatingly gorgeous.

A perfect match for me if I wasn’t so irrevocably gay.

And if she wasn’t . . . well, categorically uninterested in me in that way is probably the best way to phrase it.

But she’s my best friend and I know it hasn’t been all that long but fuck, I miss her.

Wellbelove: WHAT ARE WE WATCHING BAZ ANSWER THE FUCKING QUESTION

She’d be kicking me in the shin by now, if she were here. Maybe I don’t miss her quite that much.

Ugh, it’s my night to choose. I don’t know what I want to watch. Something soothing, not one of those action films or plucky sports dramas she likes so much. I actually like Bend it Like Beckham but not those sappy American ones she’s inflicted on me.

I need something familiar. Comforting.

Me: Pride and Prejudice.

Wellbelove: 2005. Kiera Knightley. I will accept no substitutes.

Me: The 1995 version is superior.

Wellbelove: Colin Firth doesn’t look like that anymore Baz. Let it go.

I start to type “Keira Knightley doesn’t either” but fucking hell she does still look the same.

Wellbelove: and you owe me dinner

Me: 2005 AND dinner? You are greedy and demanding, Wellbelove. I’ll agree to Knightley. Make your own dinner.

Wellbelove: I want a burger I’m ordering out since you’re being a berk and won’t send me food

Fuck. I’m craving a burger now too.

I don’t even want to think about cooking anything. I’m so sick of pasta, even though I’ve tried to make it a different way each time, with my dwindling pantry supplies. And much as I love the curry place down the road I can’t eat it every day.

I used to think I could. I used to say I’d be happy eating tikka masala every day for the rest of my life, but I was mistaken.

And no more chippies. I can’t do another chippy.

Me: Who’s delivering burgers? Please tell me you aren’t getting McDonald’s.

Wellbelove: why would I get McDonald’s when I can get a lamb burger from The Girl and The Goat?

Me: they’re not still open?

Wellbelove: of course they’re still open you stupid git.

I don’t know why I hadn’t thought to check. Why I assumed the pubs would close down, when they all have kitchens and food service, just like the chippies and fast food places.

Me: why didn’t you bother telling me, you hag?

Wellbelove: You are a grown man Hunter gatherer type you should be able to forage for your own food

I want one of those burgers. We don’t go there all that often but The Girl and The Goat has some of the best burgers in town. Fucking hell, I’m salivating at the thought of it.

Me: Text when you’ve got dinner and we’ll start the movie

Wellbelove: you’re ordering from The Goat aren’t you you hypocrite and not even paying for mine

I close the messenger app to look up The Girl and The Goat online. I scan the menu and then ring them up.

The warm, cheerful voice on the line assures me the order will be delivered to my door within a half hour. I give my mobile number so the driver can text when he arrives.

“Just be looking for the text, love,” the woman’s warm voice continues. “Simon will leave everything at your door, no need to open up until he’s gone. I know how wary people are these days so we’re trying to make it easy.”

A little over a half hour later my mobile buzzes with a message from an unknown number.

Unknown number: Food’s here!

Unknown number: I’ll ring when it’s on your doorstep

The doorbell chimes and I peek at the doorway video display only to startle at the huge grinning face looming on the screen. I push the audio button.

“Yes?”

“Hullo! I’m Simon. I’ve got your order from The Goat. Lamb burger and chips.” He holds up a gloved hand carrying a bag. “I’ll just leave it right here for you.” I get a brief glimpse of a broad back clad in a brown leather jacket as he bends down, before he’s back to grinning at the camera again. “Thanks for ordering from The Goat. We appreciate the business. If you text me back you’ll get a discount for next time!”

“Text you back what?”

He leans in closer and shrugs. “Whatever.”

He’s got brilliant blue eyes. A scattering of freckles dotted across his face.

“Um, right, ok then. Thanks.”

He waves and then he’s out of sight again.

I move to the front window and twitch aside the blinds to watch him get in a blue car with “The Girl and The Goat” displayed across the door in white lettering.

I wait until the car is long gone before opening the door, gloves on, carrying the parcel of food as if it’s radioactive until I reach the kitchen, where I can dispose of the bag and transfer the food to my own dishes.

It’s likely overkill, I know, but I find being wary and methodical helps calm me.

I settle down in front of the television with my meal and my mobile, ready to message Agatha, when I see the text from the unknown number again.

I’d not say no to a discount. I click on it to text back. What exactly does one text to an attractive delivery man?

I shake my head. He’s just the delivery man, it’s irrelevant if he’s attractive or not.

My finger is still hovering over my mobile. I’m having an existential crisis over what to text a delivery man so I can get a discount on a pub meal. These are the depths that I have sunk to with this self-quarantine.

It would help if he were ordinary looking. It really would.

Me to unknown number: Whatever

I hit send before I think too hard about how unoriginal and trite a response that was.

My mobile pings back a moment later.

Unknown number: 15% percent off the next order. Just say Simon said when you call it in! :)

Read the rest at ao3!!!!!!!!!!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/23590015

[httpjeon]

❝ tattooed together ❞ jjk ― m.

― summary: you get your first tattoo with your boyfriend jungkook.

jungkook/reader | tattooed!jungkook | smut, light fluff | 3.1k ↬ content warnings: subspace, daddy kink, dumbification, dirty talk, cunnilingus over panties, spanking, tit slapping, hairpulling, creampie, cum eating, cum sharing

a/n: coming in the next installments, we’ll be going back to the start of their relationship!

→ blog masterlist     → series masterlist

You stood in front of a familiar tattoo parlor with Jungkook's hand in yours. He smiled, pressing a kiss against your head before speaking.

"Are you sure about this? You don't have to do it, you know," You looked up at him to see his gentle smile.

"It's okay I'm just nervous," You confessed, tugging him towards the entrance of the parlor.

The little bell above the door rang and you smiled at the familiar man sitting behind the counter reading a magazine.

"Sup Jeon," He greeted without looking up.

"Hey Yoongi," Jungkook smiled. "Namjoon set up yet?"

"Yeah head on back," He grunted.

Jungkook tugged your head and nodded towards a doorway, urging you to follow him. As you entered a little room with a man inside wearing thick rimmed glasses, you felt your nerves rise again.

"Hey you two!" Namjoon greeted with his dimpled smile. "Who's going first?"

"I guess I will," Jungkook eagerly took his place on the tattoo chair. "You got the email attachment for the artwork right?"

"Who do you think I am?" Namjoon scoffed, snapping on some black latex gloves.

"Just making sure!" Jungkook giggled, rolling his sleeve up to reveal an already well-filled arm.

Over the course of a year, Jungkook had quickly gotten addicted to tattoos. He got his first one and after that he wanted more and more until he possessed an almost-full sleeve. He had come to get a tattoo to finish up his sleeve today.

Interested in his addiction, you decided to try and get your first tattoo as well. And what better idea than to get tattooed together?

Namjoon began to prepare for the tattoo, cleaning the site where Jungkook would get inked and setting up his tattoo gun. Jungkook was as cool as a cucumber, laughing and joking with the tattoo artist.

“Let’s get this started then,” Namjoon grinned.

The sound of the tattoo gun filled the room and you were surprised by just how loud it was. Neither man seemed to notice it though.

“Does it hurt?” You asked your boyfriend.

“Mmm, I guess it depends,” Jungkook answered, not even wincing as Namjoon began to tattoo him. “Everyone has different pain thresholds,”

“What’s it feel like?” You asked, watching Namjoon wipe at the tattoo site with a cloth.

“It feels hot,” Jungkook explained. “It stings and it feels almost like a burn. But as soon as the gun is off it doesn’t hurt at all. It doesn’t even feel sore,”

“So you basically just have to make it through the process and then it’s all good?” He nodded at your question and then he smiled, taking your hand in his.

“Nervous?”

“A little bit,” You confessed, squeezing his hand.

“You don’t have to get one if you don’t want to,” Jungkook released your hand in favor of stroking your hair.

“I really want to get at least one,” The conviction in your voice made Jungkook grin.

“Alright baby, if you say so,”

You fell into a comfortable silence after that. Just the buzzing of the tattoo gun filled the space mixing with a soft indistinguishable melody floating through the radio. In a short period of time, the tattoo was finished and Namjoon was cleaning off the tattoo site.

“Alright, wanna check it out in the mirror over there?” Namjoon asked, cleaning up his station.

“Absolutely,” Jungkook grinned, hopping down from the chair and waltzing over to the large mirror in the corner of the room. “Holy shit, that’s awesome man!”

“Wow,” You breathed, gazing at the reddened skin now splashed with gorgeous splashes of color in a watercolor style.

“Are you ready for your turn now, ______?” Jungkook asked, a teasing smile on his face as he allowed Namjoon to wrap up his tattoo to keep it protected.

“Yeah let’s do it,” You smiled, taking the still warm spot Jungkook had been sitting in.

The process repeated of Namjoon setting up the tattoo gun and applying a ink print to your skin for him to trace.

“That place good?” He asked, gesturing to where he had placed the lineart on your forearm.

“Perfect,” You nodded, reaching out to take Jungkook’s hand. “I don’t think I can watch,”

“That’s alright I’ll watch for you,” Jungkook leaned forward and chastely kissed your head.

“Alright lovebirds, no smooching in my tattoo chair,” Namjoon teased, making your blush.

Once the tattoo was started, you realized how right Jungkook was. It was a hot, burning sensation. It hurt the most when Namjoon would go over a place he already went over.

In a matter of 30 minutes, the tattoo was finished and you permanently had art embedded in your skin.

As you examined it, you could help but smile. It was just as beautiful as you’d hoped it would be. Namjoon’s minimalistic design style mixed with the pretty cherry reds and blossom pinks was something to worship.

“Thank you so much, Namjoon,” You said as he wrapped yours up just like he did Jungkook.

“No problem at all, you can come back any time,” Namjoon grinned.

“What do you say we get some McDonald's and head home?” Jungkook asked as you exited the tattoo parlor.

“I think that sounds lovely,” You agreed, lacing your fingers between his as you walked down the sidewalk, basking in the cool Seoul night air.

True to your agreement, you stopped by the local McDonald's to pick up some dinner. Jungkook ordered two burgers with a large fry and got you some nuggets, with fries and honey mustard.

"And that was the day I met Namjoon," Jungkook explained as you unlocked the front door to your shared apartment.

"He sounds like a pretty cool guy," You smiled, tossing your shoes off and shutting the door once Jungkook was inside.

"He's honestly awesome," Jungkook gushed, pulling his own shoes off.

You both made your way into the living room to eat your dinner.

"What do you want to watch?" You asked, turning to TV on to the Netflix menu.

"Let's just watch Ghost Whisperer again," Jungkook mumbled through a mouthful of french fries.

"Ghost Whisperer it is," You replied, putting the first episode on before digging into your still warm nuggets.

Before long your bellies were full and you found yourself snuggled into Jungkook's side with his arm wrapped around you. You had watched a couple of episodes when you began to feel tired.

"Are you ready to sleep?" You asked, noticing how tired your own voice sounded.

"I am if you are," He replied, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

You nodded, sitting up and leaning in to kiss your boyfriend's lips.

"Let's go then," He said, pulling your hand to pull you to your feet.

You let out a heavy sigh as your back hit the mattress. Jungkook disappeared in the bathroom and you could hear him rummaging around in the cabinets. A moment later, he came out holding a bottle of lotion.

"Let me see," He held your hand, examining where your forearm was wrapped nicely.

You winced when the tape pulled at your skin as he removed it. You smiled at the ink on your skin, proud of how pretty it looked on you.

Jungkook pumped a bit of lotion into his hand and generously smeared it on your tattoo. You expected it to burn or hurt or something but you felt nothing surprisingly.

"There we go," He smiled, proceeding to do the same to his own fresh tattoo. "That'll keep it moisturized while it heals. It'll start peeling and whatnot -- just don't pick at it and let them fall off on their own, yeah?"

"Whatever you say," You smiled, scooting back in bed and got comfortable in the pillows as Jungkook changed for bed.

"Aren't you gonna get into your PJs?" He asked as he stripped his shirt, showing his now complete sleeve. The way his biceps flexed with every movement had you nearly drooling, unable to break your eyes off of him.

"I was thinking of sleeping in something a little more comfortable tonight," Your words caught his attention and he stood in just his boxers, the legs stretched around his thick thighs.

"Oh?" He smirked, standing taller as he looked down at you on the bed.

Biting your lip, you felt your heart pounding in your chest when he crawled onto the bed -- hovering above your form. His hair tickled your face as he leaned down to kiss you, sliding one hand up your t-shirt. The feeling of his hand on your bare skin had goosebumps arising and you couldn't help but whimper into the kiss.

"Let's get this off, yeah?" He whispered against your lips, tugging your shirt up. You sat up to help him pull it completely off before it was tossed carelessly to the floor.

You didn't bother waiting for him to take your bra off, undoing the hooks and tossing it away as well.

"Fuck, such pretty tits baby," He groaned, cupping your breasts in his hands. He abandoned kissing your lips in favor of enveloping your nipple in his mouth. You whined, tangling your fingers in his hair as he tongued the hardening bud.

It didn't take long for him to begin kissing his way down your stomach, occasionally giving a small nip to the smooth skin. With practiced fingers, he undid the button to your jeans and with your help pulled them off.

"E-Eat me out, Kook," You whispered, tugging his hair to urge him closer to your core.

"Didn't even say please," Jungkook scoffed, kissing your hip. "You're such a brat,"

Suddenly, he licked a fat stripe over your slit through your panties. Your hips arched and you whined, the fleeting pleasure making you twitch.

The material became wetter with a mixture of his saliva and your own arousal making them stick to you. His tongue found your clit, the rough fabric making the stimulation even more intense. Your thighs twitched on either side of his head and he was quick to pin them apart again, leaving you even more open.

The occasionally tug at his hair made him moan against you, edging you closer and closer to orgasm,

"You're so easy." He chuckled, sucking your clit through your panties until your back was arching and you were crying out his name.

He made no move to move your panties aside, continue to run his tongue over your folds through them. The stimulation was teasing, almost fleeting but the texture against your hard bud was just enough to give you what you needed. He was talented with his tongue, knowing exactly what you wanted and when you needed it. Living to make you cum for him, he eagerly sucked your clit over the fabric.

You keened, pulling at his hair as your hips arched up to grind against his godly mouth. He let you, moaning at your eagerness and more than happy to indulge you.

"I'm gonna cum," You whined, tossing your head back into the fluffy pillows beneath you.

"Yeah?" Jungkook chuckled, a cocky put-on sound that made you tremble. "So greedy and easy. I barely have to do anything and you're gushing. Well go one then. Cum for me and ruin these cute little panties,"

Your whole body tensed up as you felt that wave coming over you. Eyes rolling back in your head, you were vaguely aware of the way you whined out your boyfriend's name. Jungkook groaned against your heat, tonguing you softly to ease you through the waves of pleasure. As your limbs finally relaxed on the bed, you blankly stared up at the ceiling while you caught your breath.

"So pretty," Jungkook cooed, sitting up on his knees.

You whined, flinching when he gently supplied 3 soft slaps to your oversensitive folds.

"What do you say?" Jungkook growled.

"Th-Thank you Daddy," You choked out, closing your thighs in case he decided to smack you again.

"That's a good girl," He smiled, leaning over your form to press a kiss to your lips.

The orgasm wasn't enough and both of you knew that. Sharing another soft kiss, Jungkook got up and began to strip himself of his boxers. You took a moment to admire his form, the way the veins in his arms popped as he wrapped a tight fist around his cock. He hissed, jerking himself slowly, smearing precum down his length before looking at you.

"I want you flat on your stomach," He ordered and you scrambled to do as you were told.

You breathed in the floral scent of the fabric softener Jungkook was in love with. He crawled onto the bed behind you, spreading your thighs slightly. Whining, you arched your hips slightly as you felt the blunt head of his cock against your entrance. Hot and wet, he easily slid into you and the two of your groaned in unison as he easily bottomed out.

"Fuckin' made for me," He groaned, not wasting any time before he was fucking you just the way you both liked.

The position made it easy for him to reach deep inside you, filling you up just the way you always craved. He hit your cervix, making you wince and tighten up around him -- the pain adding sparked of pleasure and you tightening walls making him tremble.

"F-Fuck Daddy," You cried, voice muffled in the fabric.

"Dirty mouth," He snapped, pausing to slap your ass so the skin jiggled.

"S-Sorry Daddy," You gasped, raising your hips to grind against his cock buried inside you.

"That's okay baby. Daddy knows you're just a desperate slut who can't help herself huh?" He chuckled, soothing the skin he slapped.

"Y-Yes that's right Daddy. I just love your cock," You sobbed, grinding against him in hopes he would start fucking you again.

"Just a dumb babygirl drunk on cock isn't that right? Your little brain is so cloudy all because your stupid cunt is wet," His filthy words had you trembling and whining.

"Yes Daddy,"

"Tell me what you are," He chuckled, leaning over you and grinding his thick cock into your spasming hole.

"D-Daddy's dumb babygirl," You breathed, feeling your eyes burn in humiliated tears.

"That's right," He chuckled, finally resuming fucking you properly.

Your eyes rolled back in your head as he angled his hips down so he could hit your g-spot with practiced ease. He groaned every time you tightened around him, his cock throbbing inside you.

He smoothed his hand down the length of your spine until he reached your ass. Biting his lip, he couldn't stop himself from slapping your cheeks -- making you gasp dramatically. The pain only added to pleasure and you cried out into the blankets.

"Slut," He snarled, tangling his hand in your hair and yanking you up roughly until you were on your knees with your back against his chest.

You leaned your head back against his shoulder, pressing kisses to his neck and nibbling on the spot you knew was sensitive. As you breath fanned over his ear, you could feel him shiver. He reached around, cupping your breast in his hand rolling your pert nipple between his fingers.

"You're getting so tight, are you going to cum again?" He asked as you panted in his ear.

"Y-Yeah," You gasped as he suddenly landed a heavy hit to your breath.

"What was that?"

"Yes I'm going to cum Daddy," You rushed out, squeezing your eyes shut as he continued to pluck at your sensitive nipple.

"Good girl," He soothed where he had slapped with a gentle hand before the digits sunk to where he was buried, finding your swollen clit easily.

Your eyes rolled back in your head as he circled the bud in time to his thrusts against your g-spot.

"Cum," He ordered, his voice breaking into a groan as you clamped tight around his cock.

You could only cry out and tremble in his arms as he fucked you through your orgasm. Unable to hold yourself up, he let you plant your face in the pillows as you sobbed. He didn't slow, continuing to brutally slam his cock into your creaming hole.

"Fuck!" Jungkook cursed, burying himself deep as he came.

You could feel the way his load filled you up as his cock throbbed. You could feel every flex of his cock and the way his body trembled in the throes of his own pleasure. How you wished you could see his face -- always such a beautiful orgasm face. You could only whine and listen to the way he moaned and cursed until he finally pulled out.

"On your back," He breathed, helping you roll over as your limbs felt like jelly.

Spreading your thighs, he gazed down at your swollen folds and clenching entrance.

"Push my cum out for me," He said and waited until you did as told, a gush of his milky white cum meeting his fingertips. "Open your mouth,"

You eagerly did as you were told, opening your mouth and leaning forward to envelop the soiled fingers in your mouth. Jungkook watched you with dark eyes as you sucked every drop of his cum off and swallowed. Removing his fingers, he reached down the scoop some more up and you eagerly drank that down as well.

He slid his fingers into your cunt but instead of putting them in your mouth, he popped them in his own. Your cunt clenched around nothing at the sight.

Leaning down, he met your lips, easily pushing the cum in his mouth into yours. Wrapping your arms around his shoulders, you both kissed until there was no more cum to share between the two of you.

You both pulled away, breathless and he rested his forehead against yours.

"You good?" He asked, cupping your cheek and kissing your nose.

"Yeah Daddy," You whispered, biting your lip.

"Hm? Daddy?" He smiled, cupping the back of your head and laying on your side, pulling you close against him. "My little girl's still lost huh?"

"Mhmm," You agreed, hugging him closer against him.

"We'll take a shower soon alright?" He smiled, kissing the top of your head gently. "And then we'll go to bed because I'm pooped,"

Mindlessly, you traced the lines of his tattoos -- avoiding the new one of course.

"Will you get another sleeve?" You asked, throwing your thigh over his.

"Do you think I should get another sleeve?"

"Mm, I think tattoos suit you very nicely," You complimented, making him grin.

"I think they suit you very well as well," His words made you smile, leaning up to press a kiss to his jaw.

"Let's go shower now,"

"Alright...and then we'll put some lotion on your cute little butt because man, I smacked you hard," He smiled as he heard you laugh from the bathroom.

© httpjeon 2019. do not repost or modify.

[msjr0119]

Ross Gellar prompt list 9. "My life is an embarrassment. I should just go live under somebody's stair."

Thanks for the prompt Ella, I should have posted this months ago. But my life took over 🤣... better late than never 🤷‍♀️

Book: The Royal Romance

Warnings: Swearing, imagination of sex, mention of sex.

A/N: I’ve borrowed Willow and Sophie from the amazing @pedudley with her permission ❤️

Tags - just using my combined tag list for this one shot prompt:

@pedudley @loveellamae @kacie-0156 @annekebbphotography @kingliam2019 @burnsoslow @kimmiedoo5 @lodberg @walker7519 @drakewalkerisreal @axwalker @bascmve01 @ladyangel70 @texaskitten30 @yukinagato2012 @indiacater @queenjilian @drakewalker04 @cmestrella @hopefulmoonobject @rainbowsinthestorm @desireepow-1986 @jared2612 @twinkle-320 @princessleac1 @cordonianroyalty @custaroonie @princess-geek @bebepac @nikkis1983 @i-bloody-love-drake-walker @rafasgirl23415 @notoriouscs @seriouslybadchoices @furiousherringoperatortoad @choices97 @gardeningourmet

*****

Maxwell Beaumont had become slightly paranoid after watching all the news reports regarding the virus that was taking over the world. He became that obsessed with reading about it, that every time he began to have palpitations. Wondering what was going to happen? Was it the end of the world? Searching through Ramsford, he realised that he needed to go on shopping trip- quickly scribbling a long list down he knew that the two people who would be most useful with helping him complete it would be his best friends Drake and Willow.

“So Max, are you turning into housewife whilst Sophie is away?” Willow laughed, imagining Maxwell dressed up in a pinny. Sophie had returned to Texas to check in on the ranch prior to the outbreak, to make sure that it was still there and not burnt to a crisp. She knew she could trust Willow’s brother but still had those lingering doubts.

“No, have you not seen the news? We need to panic buy! Like, right now...before the country goes on full lockdown.”

Willow and Drake looked at each confused, wondering if he was still drunk from last night. Surely it wasn’t that bad? The two of them had seen the news, but it was elsewhere in the world- not in Cordonia. Yet.

“Max, calm the fuck down. The world isn’t ending.” Maxwell shot him a look, wondering why he wasn’t taking the whole situation seriously.

“Lo, understands don’t ya?”

“Of course I do.” Shrugging her shoulders, she bit her lip as she faced her partner. Not wanting to be in the middle of a debate. Drake pulled her closer towards her giving her a stern expression before whispering into her ear.

“What the fuck are you doing? You’re just encouraging him.”

“Maybe, but once we get back- I’ll make it up to you.” Fluttering her eyelashes towards Drake, he knew exactly what she meant by her words. Just the thought of it made his cock slightly raise. The sooner we go, the sooner we get back.

“Fine. Come on let’s go.”

****

Arriving at the supermarket, Drake instantly regretted agreeing to come. The first reason being, was when Maxwell handed them both a mask to wear. It felt suffocating, but after thinking about it- it would prevent the spread of germs. People were panic shopping, overfilling their trollies. It was manic. Maxwell got the trolley, pushing it - he then leaped onto the side nearly crashing into a stack on baked beans.

“Wahoo! Supermarket sweep- here we come!” Willow screamed with excitement trying to catch up with Max. Fucking children, Drake murmured to himself- keeping a slight distance, he attempted to dodge people barging past him.

“Buddy! You’ve got five packs of toilet rolls! This one is mine.” Maxwell snapped at the stranger whilst playing tug of war. Willow ran over to assist him, Drake believed that she would calm the situation down. She was capable enough to handle any situation. Standing at the side of the aisle, he flicked through social media to keep himself entertained.

“Excuse me? Do you know that man and woman?” Drake turned to the man, wondering why concern was painted across his face. That was until he followed the strangers gaze that landed onto his girlfriend and ‘friend’. For fuck sake.

“Give my friend the fucking goddamn bog roll!” Willow demanded with her arms folded.

“I got it first missy!” Maxwell threw himself on to the floor, ready to cause a tantrum like a child. I just want a pack of toilet roll. Why is he not co-operating? Why is this happening to me? To us? Is it just a nightmare? I just want- no need some fucking toilet roll to wipe my arse with! What a selfish prick! I’m not an animal that can wipe my arse on a patch of grass. Fuck you mate, you’ve messed with the wrong person.

“I feel like I need to piss.” Maxwell stood up, now not giving two damns. Whipping his cock out- he urinated over the mans shoes. His original plan was to just threaten it, however his apparent full bladder decided otherwise. Urine sprayed uncontrollably all over the man and the aisle as if it was a burst dam.

“If I had my toilet roll, I could have been home now. Sorry, not sorry.”

“You’re fucking disgusting! But all of this toilet roll is mine.”

“You know what, I think I need a shit.” Willow pulled her trousers down, sitting on the edge of the strangers trolley- she pretended to push.

“Okay, Fine. Take it!” The man couldn’t cope with the two of them acting like caged baboons. Pushing Willow off of his trolley, he forced the toilet into her hand before storming off. Willow jumped up and down celebrating, waving the toilet roll in the air - ensuring that she had a tight grip onto it. Before anybody could snatch it off of her. Maxwell high-fived her. “Team work.” He shouted, before kissing the toilet roll, and bowing to it.

“Now that’s done, Lo- we just need; flour, bread, milk, eggs.... the list goes on in fact. Surely it won’t be as difficult getting those things? Do you and Drake want to add anything to the list? Condoms? Lube?”

“Maxwell.... I do not need lube when it comes to my sex life with Drake.... come on let’s go over to Drake.” Too much information, Willow. Although, myself and Sophie don’t need lube either. Us Cordonian men must be sex machines.

“Nope. Never seen them before in my life. I think that they have been released from the psychiatric hospital by the looks of it.” Drake explained to the stranger after the two of them viewed the the two’some embarrassing themselves. The man next to Drake just nodded, knowing that he was lying as Maxwell was trying to gain Drake’s attention.

****

Once they got back, Drake felt as if he had to ground the two of them. That was the worse shopping experience that he had experienced- he definitely needed a whiskey or two. Then he could punish Willow for her behaviour- the Walker way.

“Could you put the shopping away guys? Sophie’s FaceTiming.”

“We can all talk to her!” Willow suggested. It wasn’t only Maxwell that was missing her.

“Hey baby girl. I’ve missed you.”

“Maxwell! How could you?”

“How could I what?”

“You’re all over the news and the internet!” Drake turned the tv on, indeed Maxwell had stolen the limelight.

"But Soph, he wouldn’t give me the toilet roll. He had five! Willow can vouche for me!”

“I don’t know what you are on about Max. I wasn’t there. I’m not on the tv.” Winking at Drake, he was grateful that her arse wasn’t on the tv. They decided to leave the two lovebirds talking to each other, but still stayed within distance so they could over hear Sophie give Maxwell a telling off.

"Willow is lying! My life is an embarrassment. I should just go live under somebody's stair."

“Oh, Max. I love you. I’ll see you soon. Don’t cause anymore trouble.... please.”

Hanging up, Maxwell wondered where Drake had gone. Hearing willows distinctive laugh- he followed the noise.

“What are you guys doing?”

“You said you was going to live under somebody’s stairs? I’ve turned the cupboard under the stairs into a little home for you. You’ll be like Harry Potter. There’s some newspaper and toilet roll for you Maxwell.” Willow attempted not to laugh at Drake’s comment, but she couldn’t help herself. Practically nearly wetting herself.

I hate my life right now.

****

Four months later, the pandemic was still around but numbers had decreased. Maxwell returned to the supermarket- alone, as Drake refused to go again after the last time. Luckily he wasn’t recognised- or banned for that matter.

Walking down the toilet roll aisle, a little smirk spread across his face remembering the last time that he was playing tug of war. Now there wasn’t a shortage of toilet roll, but he had decided to stock up just incase. As he was leaving, his stomach began to rumble and there was a sudden urge to eat McDonald’s - even if it was only Drive Thru for the time being. Thinking about it, he didn’t have his own car as Sophie had lent it to take her and Willow our for a spa day- but he was desperate for the greasy food and a milkshake. Then a light bulb appeared in his mind.

****

Arriving at the Drive Thru, he was slightly uncomfortable- but the food that he would be receiving would definitely be worth the short term discomfort. Honking the horn, he couldn’t wipe the ever growing smirk forming on his face. Beep beep.

“Excuse me, Sir. You can’t come through the Drive Thru in that...”

“It’s a car!” Maxwell shouted as he defended his choice of ‘automobile’. The member of staff was wondering if there was a camera crew lingering somewhere - ready to pounce out, shouting ‘you’ve been punk’d’.

“I refuse to move until I’ve been served. I would like; six double cheese burgers, a share box of nuggets- make sure I have a mixture of sauces to go with them. Erm, I’ll have a Big Mac meal with a large chocolate milkshake... what would Drake like? They don’t do alcohol with meals here like in Paris.. hmm. You know what, give me six of everything off of the menu. I’m sure we could eat it all. If not I’m sure my peacocks would enjoy the treat.”

“I will not ask you again. Please come back when you are in a car. Besides, we only have a €25 limit for each customer.”

“Are you refusing to serve me, the person who is giving you quite possibly the biggest order you’ve ever received.”

“Yes. If you don’t leave now, I will have to call the police. Please, Sir. You are causing a traffic jam!”

“Serve me right now, or I’ll inform the King. I am close friends with him. He will not be pleased that you have refused to serve someone that is part of his court.” The manager came out of the restaurant, to see what all of the commotion was about- he understood that it would be busy due to them only just reopening but he could hear shouting. However he didn’t need this stress.

“Will you just serve him, it’s giving us a bad reputation and customers are videoing it. I don’t care what the issue is or that he’s not in a car. Just serve him now. Then we can ban him returning in the future!” Maxwell smirked at the crew member, as his eyebrows did a celebratory wiggle.

****

Returning back to Ramsford, he was so pleased with himself- proud that he had brought some food back with him as he nibbled on the way back. Opening the door, he knew that the girls would be back- they could all feast together.

“No need to thank me, but I have food! For us all....” Bowing as he entered the through the doors saying this, he believed that he had definitely won the ‘best friend’ award.

“Maxwell!” Everybody shouted in unison- as they scowled at him with their arms folded.

“What?” He asked innocently, whilst scoffing the remainder of the double cheeseburger that he had begun to eat prior to walking through the doors.

“Care to explain this to me?” Bertrand snarled as he passed the phone over. Drake shook his head - disbelieving that Maxwell had become an ‘overnight’ sensation yet again.

“Looks like you’re going to re-enacting Harry Potter again, eh Beaumont...”

“Shut up, Drake! Listen... Bertrand... it’s a car. I went through the Drive Thru. I don’t personally see the issue... anyway. Enjoy the food, everyone!”

A crazy man attended McDonald’s today- in a Little Tykes car with the number plate BARTIE-IS-DA-BEST. We will not tolerate behaviour like in the video posted below. If anybody arrives at our restaurants acting like this- YOU WILL NOT BE SERVED! If anybody knows the mans identity, please report him. Thank you.

[shesawriter39049]

|ROLL DEEP|M| P.1

                 *Yoongi centered fic with a shared OT7 plot*

CH.1.1   CH. 1.2

**Operation: What’s eating blue!?***

_________________________________________________________

“Stop, this stopped being a you, thing and became a us thing  the minute we chose to show up here tonight! You gave us an out and we stayed...we will always stay...”

1.2 K Sneak Peek

Pairing: Yoongi x OC

Genre: Sugar baby AU/Suspense/Smut/Angst/Roomate AU/FWB AU

WC: 7K

Nonsexual Warnings: Mentions of drug use (Molly/weed/)Strong language/ Alcohol addictions/ brief mentions/ speculations of domestic violence/abuse

Sexual Warnings: Oral (M & F receiving) power bottom Min Yoongi, cum play, breath play, spanking, dirty talk, Slight overestimation, sex toys (Cock rings....) Semi-public sex (A chill little blow job in the car) The sexual warnings are for both parts of CH.1 so the smut is split in half!

NOTE:  Just to clarify the dynamic Yoongi and the OC are roommates who hookup on the side, they are BOTH sugar babies to two separate people! So yes, that would imply that Yoongi and some of the other boys who are also sugar babies are Bi. There is no MxM but there is mentions of it occasionally….as well as some harmless ot7 flirting! Also all of the boys are introed, Tae and Joon just play a lager part here!

_______________________________________________

I guess, fuck where do we even start? Maybe, will go back to where it all technically started, which was the last time things felt...somewhat normal yeah?

So, that would be...hmm...about 2 weeks shy of you heading into Junior year at USC right? The day your boys picked you up at the airport, and the three of your treated Blue, aka TaeTae to brunch!?

Well, wait let’s back track a little it all started much eariler than that, because you weren’t even aware of your brunch plans until later in the day. So Initially the day in question kicks of with you, in oversized blacked out CHLOE shades, hungover as fuck, sat in at the airport one Sunday afternoon. Smack dab in the middle of Terminal 6, in a bar called Blu2o sipping on a Bloody Mary, scrolling aimlessly through Snapchat. While simotaniously being told for the very first time ...that you’ll be attending a “Haute Couture”  themed charity auction...on Tuesday! Yup,  the day after tomorrow! Thank god he can’t see your damn face right now, biting down on your straw to muzzle yourself!

“No, babe it’s fine, I’ll just hit Rodeo tomorrow morning, and I’m sure my nail and lash girl can fit me-Oh you...haven’t gotten... what ...your wearing either?” Parroting the words back In slow motion as if it would make the words sound better or something!

Oh for fucks sake! Bringing your forehead flush to the marble bartop already feeling a full blown migraine brewing at the nape of your neck. Giving yourself a couple moments to self compose, this man is so damn unorganized it’s unfucking real. His personal assistant better be the 2nd highest paid person within his entire company because…..This is far from new, I don’t even know why your suprised and I’d say you don’t get paid enough for this....but ya do! So you suck it up, lose the attitude and slip right into your “Yes sir” or maybe I should say ‘Yes daddy” voice.

“Don’t worry about it, I know your busy. I totally get it, your a 28 waist right? Of course, I remember...I remember everything you tell me….Ohhh your gonna let me put you in color too???” Eyes flickering up to the notification from your bank, noting a cute little 12k wire pending.

“Yeah, no, I see it, that should be good. I was thinking Versace or Cavili for you anyway...they have good prints to fit the theme, and if all else fails I have my card too…yup..just landed about..hmm... 30 minutes ago actually. Of course, stop apologizing, Sunday's are always your golf days, I get it, hey, tell the guys I said hi and enjoy your day. Text me later if you feel up to it..k....bye..”

Were you actually getting a little flustered there towards the end? It's the slight accent, isn't it? Honestly, it didn't take much for you to slip into “character” with him, even after barely being together a full month. For one he wasn’t an asshole, had a decent sense of humor, and he’s really fuckin hot...however there was one, little, well shit, not so little issue...you noticed while with him recently. Which, then sparked quite a few questions while also answering some that had been rattling through your head since the day you met. But will circle back to the fact that you spent a week on vacation with a man, while dressed in some of the sexiest pieces of 2019 couture! Yet..you barely got touched once outside of a couple chaste kisses and hand-holding while at the two fashion shows you attended together… so, yeah, yeah!

A low groan in frustration rattled from your throat as you continued scrolling through Snapchat, trying to come up with some possible outfit scenarios in your head! It’s kinda funny, how mynute all of that seems now though, how your definition of “Stress” that day was you trying to decide if your sugar daddy was gay, while also  finding time to fit in a self-care day, shopping, and getting your books for school!!  The fact that, that was what you considered migraine worthy, fuck, what you wouldn’t give to consider multitasking your only maltitude of “stress” again …..

Just in your own little world, mind swirling with a couple of stylists you’ve met along the way, considering the idea of them pulling some vintage pieces for you instead!  What you should be doing, is scrolling through your contact list and texting said stylists, instead you find yourself more and more distracted.  Getting lost in the mounds of snap updates from Jimin as he “modestly” sunbathed in a private villa in Italy. Then later sharing a glimpse into his shopping spree from Versace, no doubt a good 20k worth of Italian luxury spread out along the plush white sheets. Sending him a cheeky little “That’s my boy” with a couple of smug winky faces in response!

It’s still kinda crazy to think, things like that are considered normal within your world now, the fact that you aren’t even surprised at the number of gifts. Or, simply the fact that your barley 21-year-old best friend is sunbathing in Italy on someone else’s dime. Then again, you just got sent 12 thousand dollars to spend on an event that would last maybe all of 5 hours, while sitting next to a stack of Louis Vuittion luggage from your first class flight in from Vegas, technically. Opting to land there first after a long 15-hour flight, checking in at The Four Seasons for not even a solid 24 hours before coming home! Honestly?There was no real reason for the pit stop except it gave you an excuse to see a friend while also allowing you to unwind in one of your favorite hotels!

That sentence alone is actually absurd when you really think about it, the idea of you casually booking flights and suites in 5-star hotels as if you’re ordering off the damn dollar menu at Mcdonalds! You, the girl that was working two jobs at the Groove and mourning a piece of shit cheating ex boyfriend her freshman year of college.....is now reminiscing about catching flights to chill with friends and last minute finding dresses for Couture themed galas.Like, what the actual fuck is life.... Oh my bad, life at the moment is constantly being paranoid that you and your friends will get arrested! Life in this moment however...was a fucking perfect!

The friend you where meeting in Vegas was Hoseok by the way, the redhead was currently vacationing in Sin City for the next couple of days, typically residing in LA as well. Just Chillin’ before the semester starts, living his best life, which revolves around “OFF-WHITE'' shopping sprees, private dance lessons, and constantly taking thirst trap pics for his 10’s of thousands of followers online. He randomly texts you saying “I miss your face” you text him saying “I land at 8 tonight bring a bottle and sushi to room 605 at The Four Seasons hotel '' Simple!

Your initial flight, the one that was 15 hours, was originally from Paris, where you spent the last week or so with Jeong-su, being arm candy, sipping wine, sightseeing and of course shopping!. Barley 32 hours ago your Snapchat looked pretty damn similar, if not worse in comparison to Jimin’s but what can I say, you can’t be in the home of Givenchy and Gaulthier and not go to Givenchy and Gaultier!

What your life is, what you and your friends do, I mean, I think it’s safe to say it’s pretty self-explanatory yeah? The average 20 something-year-old in college isn't flying themselves out of the country or going luxury shopping without a little help. In your case, it’s typically thanks to a person you commonly refer to as “Daddy” now, the context behind the word however….is where you and your friends may differ from others…..

But that’s your business, your concern and more importantly your choice, and honestly for a while life seemed too damn good to be true...I guess looking back on it now, I guess that’s because it kinda was!

Sat at the predominantly empty bar alone, more than content by the silence, twirling your straw between your lips, as you scanned back over the shit show that was your schedule for the semester! Getting more of a migraine from that, then shopping or even the fact that you're still hungover and drinking on an empty stomach at half-past 12. Shooting a quick text to your redheaded best friend cursing him out for getting you drunk off your ass on a bottle of Yamazaki 12.

“Can I get anything else for you beautiful? Another drink or maybe an appetizer? We have damn good loaded queso fries if I do say so myself!” Waving the menu in your face playfully, the warm, inviting voice in front of you was the bartender, who’s had his eye on you since you swayed in. Even if you looked like crap for your standards you knew to most you were the farthest thing from it as you swayed into the bar like you owned the place. In your heels, and tiny little black dress, while an airport assistant trolied in your luggage behind you! Ohhh Blair  Waldorf would without a doubt be proud!

“Mmmm…” Lips pursed in a slight pout as you raked over the menu, honestly, you were hungry and they have bomb ass fried pickles…..”Actually, yeah, I’ll get-”

“ 3 tall shots of whatever top-shelf Tequila you have, also add whatever she’s been drinking to my tab, along with an order of fried pickles with extra ranch…please and thank you!” Smoothly sliding his black card, and ID across the marble bartop for review.

Oh.

The look on the bartender’s face was fucking priceless, torn between shitting himself and maybe….nah, just straight shitting himself! Skin flushed, the sense of panic was clear as day,  wondering if he’d overstepped that fine line between customer service and filtration. Considering whoever the person behind you is, clearly knows you well enough to know your food order. A forced bashful smile playing along his lips as he bowed out in acknowledgment, sliding the gentelmen back is ID and whispering out a faint “Yes sir, coming right up…”

The base vibrating through your ears instantly had you readjusting your posture, a strong tingle running down your spine, back arching ever so slightly. A playful smirk playing along your lips as you slowly laced your tongue back around your staw, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

“You sure you wanna do that? My tastes are pretty expensive..” Tone blatantly flirtatious, yet you still hadn’t bothered to even turn around, that’s when suddenly you hear a deep arrogant chuckle rumbling low in his chest. Only...this sounds a little brighter? And like it’s coming from your left instead of behind you…

“Mmm, I’m sure we can handle it baby….”

You could feel the air shift behind you, it felt warmer, and there was a strong mix of scents flooding through your nose. Leaning back in your seat, pleasantly finding your shoulders, the back of your neck, and your head, cradled against a lean wall of silk. Sighing contently, naturally letting your body melt into his frame, nose running into your face as you smiled so hard your cheeks hurt. That’s when a gangle of veiny, porcelain limbs wrapped around your shoulders pulling you even tighter against him, only to find brown, sharp, cat-like eyes staring down at you, though a pair of translucent designer shades. Seemingly a little bit amused at how excited you are to see him. Long dark wavy locks falling messily into his face, a tiny silver hoop dawning his button nose. Tongue playing at the corner of his mouth, letting the tiny silver ball slip between his lips. This angle lets you really appreciate how sharp, yet soft his features were, an oxymoron that honestly makes no damn sense unless you see him in person….jawline sharp enough to cut glass yet he has the cutest cheeks ever when he smiles. It honestly makes no sense whatsoever and he’s one of the many reasons you have trust issues. Well, that and your line of work, considering the number of men you find out are married and still try and sneak around with you.

Then, as if to just make his presence known, there’s another pair of hands making their home along your body, gently squeezing your thigh. Except, he’s polar opposite to the person I just described, the man behind you is your roommate Yoongi, the man who just took a seat to your left, is your other roommate Namjoon! First off, he’s tall as all hell, and an offensively perfect shade of brown, he can’t even go into the burbs without being asked what self-tanner he uses. In which he smugly replies “Genetics” letting them sit there and try and google said company that makes that brand of self-tan. Streams of meticulously placed colored neo-traditional tattoos paint his skin, accompanied by deep dimples, and bleach blonde hair styled into an undercut, sides buzzed into the perfect fade.

“So you gonna get up and give me a real hug or what???”  Placing a kiss in your hair as he pulled back, giving you room to hop out of your seat and right into his arms.

The Full thing is coming soon, this is from summer 2019, I just have to edit, and reread the full thing again! I also wrote the first 3 parts all at once..sooo if your exicted show this some love anddddddddd come let me know!

Love you as always,

Rocki

[madisonhentosh]

A Day In The Life Of An Endicott Student-Athlete

Ever wonder what it’s like to be a student athlete at Endicott College? I caught up with Catherine Miles, a member of the women’s ice hockey team, this past week to get a glimpse into her busy schedule.

Miles is a 20 year old Sophomore on the Beverly campus hailing from Northfield, Vermont, home also to Norwich University. Although the town of Northfield and its people are considered her family, Miles has found, and been welcomed into, a new family on the Endicott campus.

The Northfield Pharmacy is the only pharmacy in town. It is in the center of the downtown area which only consists of a handful of stores adding to the homey feel of Northfield.

With hopes of being a physicians assistant when she graduates, Miles is currently studying Exercise Science. A popular major among athletes, she finds herself in classes surrounded by other athletes from various sports teams.

Miles checks her class Canvas page prior to the start of class.

After waking up and preparing herself for the day, a typical Wednesday morning involves Miles walking from Stoneridge Hall all the way to the Arts Center, or better known as the VPAC. From 9:00-9:50a.m. she sits attentively in a class labeled philosophy and sport. As the clock strikes ten to the hour, the rose gold Mac laptop gets placed back in her backpack and she prepares to walk back to her dorm as her next class begins.

Being a college student during a pandemic means hybrid learning, and today, Miles’ 10 o'clock class, exercise physiology, happened to be occurring on Zoom. She did admit that, “keeping up with when, where, and what days you are actually in the classroom seems to be the hardest part of hybrid learning.”

Welcome to Zoom University! Miles completes her last two classes of the day in the comfort of her own room.

The academic day comes to an end with sport and exercise nutrition from 11:00-11:50a.m., also on Zoom. But, with the academic day coming to an end, the athletics part of the day is just beginning.

All teams on campus participate in strength and conditioning with Coach Dustin. The women’s hockey team mostly all lift on Monday and Wednesday mid morning to afternoon. Miles was placed in the 12:30pm lift group with a few other members of the team along with a couple members of the women’s lacrosse team.

The Endicott facilities are second to none. It is a rare occasion to see this gym empty of athletes and their hardworking, get-better, attitudes.

Due to the pandemic, regulations and precautions allow for 10 people in a lift group at a time, so team lifts are off the table. Team lifts were always a good way to build team chemistry and build a positive atmosphere as your teammates attempted max weights on exercises such as back squats, hang cleans, and bench presses. Miles stated that, “[a]s long as everyone does what they need to do in the weight room, time usually spent together at lift can be made up in other ways.”

As lift concludes, Miles now finally has the time to eat lunch. When asked about Callahan or the new market in the Wax, she responded with a smile, “I think the new options in the Wax could be one of the better things to happen on campus.”

The Callahan Dining Hall is usually the most popular choice for meals on campus. Other options include Einstein’s, the Lodge, and the new market located within the Wax Academic Center.

With the academics and lift now complete, Miles now has some two hours of down time as practice starts at 3:40p.m.

We happened to catch Miles on a good day, well good day to be a reporter, as the women’s ice hockey team happened to be having their team media day. As the team picked time slots to go and take pictures, Miles picked the 2:00 slot, and we can understand why with her busy day leading up to this point.

Photographer David Le, who runs all of the media days for the athletic teams, was at the Raymond J. Bourque Ice Arena on campus from 11:00-3:00p.m. snapping shots of the 35 members of the team. Miles got herself dolled up and headed over to the rink for both her headshot and on ice posed photos. She completes her temperature check and CoVerified check at the door and gets cleared to enter.

Miles awaits practice as media day concludes. The pre-game practice fuel of choice is a handful of Baked Lays chips with an Honest iced tea.

Now that the fun and games of media day had wrapped up, it was time for business as the team is preparing for their two upcoming games against Nichols College. “Practice is valued just as much as games this year because in reality, there is no guarantee our games will go as planned this weekend”, Miles added. COVID has made athletes everywhere value their sport even more than usual because one positive test can impact the whole, shortened season.

Quarantine took away the opportunity to step on the ice everyday. It took away the opportunity for fans to hear the ringing of the post, blades cutting into the ice, and the cheers of temmarts when a goal was scored. Miles added, “... having hockey taken away made me realize how big of a blessing hockey has been for me in my life. Each time I step on the ice now it’s a breath of fresh air, an escape from the outside chaos of the world.”

Ever since a young age playing for the Northfield Stars, Miles fell in love with the game of hockey unaware of how big of a role it would play in her later years.

Miles, a center, is a tenacious, hard-working player that might go unnoticed. Today’s practice at the Raymond J. Bourque Arena was defensive and neutral zone focused featuring a lot of regrouping and down low coverage. Being put in the center position of recent, Miles can be seen on the ice asking questions not only to the coach, but to upperclassmen who excel in the same position. Having played defense before and having experience, Miles understands the importance of staying low and supporting the puck on the breakout, which she is applauded for on many occasions by Coach McPhee.

As a freshman, Miles only logged minutes in 2 out of the 26 games played. But now, as a sophomore, she has 3 points in the past 3 games with a +4 rating, scoring her first goal in the Nichols series.

Miles (#28) looks to angle a Suffolk defender through transition.

“Every year is a tryout and an opportunity to prove yourself, and to others, that you deserve a spot on the lineup”, she explained. With 35 members on the team, practice is high-tempo and competitive as Coach McPhee looks to reward the hardest workers. Miles’ offseason efforts in the gym and on the ice, training with ELEV 802 in Vermont has seemed to pay off this year. There is always something to work on and when asked what that was, she quickly responded, “faceoffs, no doubt”, with a laugh.

5:10p.m.: Practice is wrapped up and Miles heads for the shower.

Following a shower, Miles, along with her teammates, head to the Callahan Dining Hall. On the menu tonight was a grilled chicken taco bowl, roasted vegetables, and of course, the Miles classic, a blue Powerade. “There’s just something about a blue Powerade from the Callahan. It’s almost like a Sprite from McDonald’s”, she discussed.

Surrounded by teammates, Miles finishes her meal at the Callahan before getting ready to head to work.

Although you may be expecting a typical end of the night with homework and Netflix in bed, our star of the show had other plans.

From 6:30-10:00p.m. Miles can be found working at the Post Center checking people into the gym, cleaning gym equipment, and monitoring open rec. Here she can work on homework, which she usually gets most of it done, watch Netflix, and today she even got the chance to watch her boyfriend play in his season opener soccer game for Elmira College.

7:05p.m.: Miles watches the Elmira men’s soccer game as she awaits the next gym cleaning.

At this point in the day, rest is much needed. Miles can go to bed knowing that she successfully made it through another day as a student-athlete on the Endicott campus.

As the clock strikes 11:00p.m., Miles finally hits the sheets and prepares to do the same thing the following day.

“I wouldn't want it any other way”, Miles concluded.