#oh to reach slushie making self actualization

[concerningwolves]

I've been doing a lot of voice recording and speech practise today, and it's really got me thinking about what it actually means to have a speech impediment.

So, because of my russel-silver syndrome, my jaw isn't quite shaped right. I've had a lot of overcrowding with my teeth and although that's been fixed now, I still can't always get my mouth into the right shapes to make sounds. My "r" goes soft and my "w" sounds like an r, for example; I also get too much saliva going on when I speak and I'm often in danger of biting my tongue, which makes my s and sh sounds go slushy. (Incidentally, "slushy" is a nightmare word to say).

But the thing is, people who know me often say that they don't notice my speech impediment. I don't know if this is because they think they're being kind, or if they've just gotten used to it so they can parse my speech automatically, or some combination thereof. I've had people tell me that I sound "wonderfully clear for a deaf person", that my voice is "cute", and that "oh, your speech impediment is actually mild. I barely notice it!".

Lately, I've begun to consider that speech impediments aren't thought of as something someone has. They're thought of as something that other people experience. People tell me that mine is mild because they barely notice it, but you know what? I notice! I notice all the time! And I don't mean this in a self-conscious way, either (although I have certainly been self-conscious for a long time). What I mean when I say that I notice my speech impediment is, it's always there, constantly, when I speak. I can never stop thinking about it. Every time I have a conversation, I have to consider how I'm shaping words and whether I'm speaking clearly enough to be understood. It is exhausting. When I listen back to my own voice, I can really hear where I've started to get tired from speaking as the quality of my pronunciation goes way downhill. Sometimes, I reach a point where I'm so tired from the mental effort that I just. stop speaking. I simply can't do it anymore. I've had to scrap several recordings because this happened.

So.. doesn't this count as a speech disability, then? Because it is something that disables me. It hinders my speech! It wears me out! And no amount of being told that "it's actually not at all noticeable :)" is ever going to change that.

[bittersweet--chaos]

@dolls-horde @dolls-circus I’m done :3

Leto: Is something burning?

Doll: Just my love for you.

Leto: Doll, the toaster is on fire.

✨✨✨✨

Leto: How do I deal with my enemies

Doll: Kill them

Leto: That's a bit extreme, I was hoping for a more passive solution

Doll: Kill them only a little?

✨✨✨✨

Doll: Ohhhh, we each get our own oven?

Leto: ... N-No...

Leto, laughing: How many ovens do you think I have???

Doll, motioning to their kitchen: Three, I thought!

Cam: I see a-

Leto, motioning to one device: This is a microwave.

Doll: Oh, well I-

Leto: Hey wait wait, actually- hang on- *fiddles with the buttons on the microwave*

Leto, amazed: Its got a bake setting

Neph: Ohoho, you learn something new every day!

Pathos: Do we- Do we roshambo for who gets to pick first?

Leto: Now I've just discovered I have more ovens than I thought, we don't have to roshambo nothin!

Leto: I am someone who owns four ovens...

Leto, louder and way too happy: I am someone... who owns FOUR OVENS...

Leto: I didn't know I was so rich with ovens...

Zethus JR., pointing to another appliance: Also the toaster oven!
Leto:

Doll: Ohhh, toasty boy! Four- Five ovens!

Leto:

Leto, fucking ECSTATIC: I AM SOMEONE WHO OWNS FIVE OVENS

✨✨✨✨

'Can I copy the homework?' 
Leto: I can help you with it!

Neph: Yeah, sure.

Pathos: Bold of you to assume I did the homework.

Cam: lol nope.

Zethus JR.: Wait, we had homework?!?!?!

Doll: *Read 5:55pm*

✨✨✨✨✨

Cam : You are now one day closer to eating your next plate of nachos.

Neph: That's the most hopeful thing I've ever heard.

Pathos : But what if I die tomorrow and never eat any nachos?

Zethus JR.:Then tomorrow is nacho lucky day.

✨✨✨✨

Cam : You know those things will kill you, right?

Neph, pouring another glass of whiskey: That’s the point.

Pathos , smoking a cigarette: We’re trying to speed up the process.

Zethus JR.: *Nods while eating raw cookie dough*

✨✨✨✨

Doll: Self care is actually getting into fights with randoms in dark alleys.

Leto: No, self care is stuff like taking a bubble bath, or putting on a lot of makeup if you like it, or taking a nice warm nap!

Dante: Self care is the burning heat when rage washes over you!! Self care is when you feel the bones crack under your powerful fists!! Self care is the fear in your enemies’ eyes!!!

Zethus SR.: Lmao self care is taking your birthday cake just so I can eat the frosting.

Dante: If you touch my birthday cake I’ll make you eat your hands.

✨✨✨✨

Zethus: Why are your tongues purple

Doll: We had slushies. I had a blue one.

Leto: I had a red one.

Zethus SR: oh

Zethus SR:

Zethus SR: OH

Dante:

Dante: You drank each other's slushie?

✨✨✨✨

Leto: Have you seen a person named 'Doll' around here?

Dante: Ugh, yes. They made a horrible mess of the blood fountain.

Zethus SR.: It looks fine to me?

Leto: IT USED TO BE WATER!!!

✨✨✨✨

Dante: How did none of you hear what I just said?

Doll: I’ve been zoned out for the past two and a half hours.

Leto: I got distracted about halfway through.

Zethus SR.: Ignoring you was a conscious decision.

✨✨✨✨

Doll, about Leto: Apparently we’re getting someone new in the group.

Dante: Are we stealing them?

Zethus SR.: New or used?

Leto: Wonderful responses, both of you.

✨✨✨✨

Zethus SR: Please bring home PURIFIED water with NO minerals added for taste

Doll: We got spring water

Zethus SR: NO.

Dante: with EXTRA minerals

Doll: it's like licking a stalagmite

Zethus SR: DON'T COME HOME.

Dante: Mmmmm cave water

✨✨✨✨

Doll: Dante and I were crossing the street, and this dude drove by and honked at us

Zethus SR: *Sighing* What did Doll do?

Doll: They chased him to the next red light, then reached into his window and...

Dante: Who wants a steering wheel?

✨✨✨✨

Dante: Who thinks I can fit 15 marshmallows in my mouth?

Zethus SR: You’re a hazard to society

Doll: And a coward. DO TWENTY.

✨✨✨✨

Zethus SR: What time is it?

Doll: I don’t know; pass me that saxophone and we’ll find out

Doll: *Plays sax loudly and extremely out of tune*

Dante: WHO THE FUCK IS PLAYING THE SAXOPHONE AT TWO IN THE MORNING

Doll: It’s 2 am

✨✨✨✨

Leto: Doll, keep an eye on Dante today. They're going to say something to the wrong person and get punched.

Doll: Sure, I’d love to see Dante get punched.
Leto: Try again.

Doll, sighing: I will stop Dante from getting punched.

✨✨✨✨

Leto: Come on, I wasn’t that drunk last night.

Dante: You were flirting with Doll.

Leto: So what? She’s my wife.

Dante: You asked them if they were single.

Leto:

Dante: And then you cried when they said they weren't.

✨✨✨✨

Doll: Leto and I don’t use pet names.

Dante: I see. Hey, what do bees make

Doll: Honey?

Leto: Yes, dear?

Doll:

Dante: Don't ever lie to my face again.

✨✨✨✨

Dante: Hey, Doll? Can I get some dating advice?

Doll: Just because I’m with Leto doesn’t mean I know how I did it.

✨✨✨✨

Zethus JR: Bad things keep happening to me, like I have bad luck or something.

Kore: Pathos, you don't have bad luck. The reason bad things happen to you is because you're a dumbass.

✨✨✨✨

Pathos: *Walking in to a room* Sorry I’m late... I was... doing things.

*Sounds of running footsteps progressively getting louder*

Zethus JR: *Out of breath* THEY PUSHED ME DOWN THE FUCKIN’ STAIRS.

✨✨✨✨

Pathos: Date someone who will drag you outside at 3am to look at the stars.

Zethus JR: If anyone, and I mean anyone, wakes me up at 3am to go look at the damn sky they will be removed indefinitely from my life

✨✨✨✨

Bambi, tending to Pathos’ wounds: How would you rate your pain?

Pathos: Zero stars. Would NOT recommend.

✨✨✨✨

Leto: How many kids do you have?

Doll: Biologically, emotionally, or legally?

✨✨✨✨

Kore: Zethus and I have the kind of easy chemistry where we finish each other's-

Zethus JR: Sentences.

Kore: Don't interrupt me.

✨✨✨✨

Kore: So what’s for dinner?

Zethus JR, staring at the food they just burnt: Regret.

✨✨✨✨

Bambi: Treat spiders the way you want to be treated.

Pathos: Killed without hesitation.

Bambi: No.

[seijch]

of slushies and shitty coffees ft. iwaizumi hajime.

🍬 iwaizumi hajime + gender neutral!reader

🍬 1.5k, convenience store worker!reader, vague immortal and reincarnation au

🍬 this was for vee but i think she deactivated 🧍‍♂️ its also the first one i wrote back in october so its ... maybe not my best

"you know what i am, don't you?" + being immortal boils down to 70% loneliness, 20% doing whatever the hell you want, and 10% recurring nuisances that bear an odd resemblance to your first love. 

To say you hated working the night shift would be an understatement.

Sure, most days it passed with relative ease and allowed you to study on the clock, your studies rarely interrupted. A group of friends with the munchies here, a fellow student in need of a pick-me-up there, and an elderly woman that came in like clockwork at the 4am mark to buy cat food for the strays living nearby. You were well-acquainted with the few regulars of your shift and fond of the night manager, Saeko. On paper, there would be little to hate.

But the classes you had a mere three hours after your shift ended were nothing short of a living nightmare to push through; at this point, you’re sure that your blood is almost entirely comprised of the slushies and shitty coffee you spend your shift helping yourself to.

In fact, you’re in the middle of making yourself one of these slushies when the door opens behind you. “Welcome,” you throw over your shoulder, catching a glimpse of the customer as you achieve slushie-making self-actualization.

Your mouth goes dry instantly.

You’re sure they don’t just let Greek gods walk into the nearest 7-11, but there’s clearly a first time for everything. He’s handsome, with a jaw sculpted from the highest quality marble money could buy. In an attempt to prevent your jaw from hitting the floor, you take a long sip of the slushie. “Fuck!” you hiss, clutching your head as you wait for the brain freeze to recede.

In the time that it takes you to get back to the register, the attractive stranger is about ready to check out. “Just this for you?” you ask, the only noise being the whir of the air conditioning and the scanner beeping at the energy bars. When you don’t get a response, you glance up at him. He’s looking right at you, but there’s something deeper behind it.

It’s like he knows you, that you’re as familiar to him as the beat of his heart, the air in his lungs. It’s both too heavy and entirely too intimate for an interaction that consists of you ringing up his 2AM transaction of three protein bars. ”That’ll be $4.17.”

He pays in exact change. Not another word is exchanged between you, but the intrigue and infatuation you have for the stranger lingers, even into the classes you have the morning after.

The next time you see him, he’s with someone else. A friend, you assume — the man with the perfect brown hair ribs at him as they walk in. Once he makes eye contact with you, however, he falls silent.

You’re beginning to feel like you’re missing out on something, especially when the stranger’s friend pulls him over, saying something in a hushed whisper. Something begins to prickle at your skin, and it’s not (just) the way the AC vent blasts on you from where you‘re sitting.

Thankfully, Saeko has excellent timing, bringing the mop out and greeting the two with a wide grin. “We doing alright over here, boys?” They nod, Mr. Shampoo Commercial saying something about midnight cravings before they make their way to the slushie machine.

”Listen,” Saeko whispers to you as the mop passes your spot at the register, “if those boys do or even say anything strange, you know what to do.” When you’d first started working the night shift, Saeko had been very clear that your safety was her top priority.

(“You college kids remind me of my baby brother,” she’d told you one night as you dusted the shelves. “I know it’d kill me if any of you got hurt.”)

You ring up two slushies: one cherry and one cola. Mr. Shampoo Commercial’s the one paying, and it’s as you‘re returning his change that he decides to speak. “Don’t you remember us?” His voice is smooth, with a dangerous lilt to it.

”Oikawa,” warns Mr. Protein Bar. “Don’t.”

”Why not, Iwa?” To you, Oikawa asks, “It’s been a while, don’t you think?”

”I’m sorry,” you say, trying to keep your voice even in the face of his questions, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Your foot is poised to knock over a busted shelf behind you; it was Saeko’s alarm system, something she claimed could be heard from anywhere in the store.

A look is exchanged between the two men. You don’t bother trying to read it; it’s the sea and the storm, roiling with a language only the two of them are fluent in. “Sorry,” Iwa says, taking his slushie and shoving the cherry one in Oikawa’s hands. “Have a nice night.”

You don‘t see Iwa for a few weeks. The next time you do, he’s alone. It’s another wordless exchange; this time, he’s buying two cans of shitty coffee. “Is your friend waiting outside?” you ask. He looks surprised to hear your voice, probably expecting you to give him the bare minimum after your last encounter.

”Actually,” he rubs the back of his neck, sliding one of the cans your way, “that one’s for you. Sorry about what happened last time.” He pops open the tab of his coffee. “Oikawa doesn’t know when to keep his mouth shut.”

You nod, opening your own can. ”What was that all about?” you ask, taking a stab in the dark. You miss, unfortunately: he almost chokes on his coffee, the lines on his face growing more defined as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

”Don’t worry about it.”

It‘s a shitty answer paired with shitty coffee, but you take it.

And if you notice that he almost glimmers with an unreal sheen under the flickering fluorescent light, you dismiss the thought. Nothing else seems very real at three in the morning anyway.

He becomes another regular, swinging by twice a week. Two cans of coffee, paid for with exact change. You don’t have the heart to tell him that as an employee, you could just take from the pot whenever you wanted before you had to brew a new one for the morning rush. At first, he slides the can to you and wishes you a good night on his way out, but he grows more chatty as the weeks go by.

He asks about your day, asks about class, asks about work. Never does he share anything about the life he leads outside of shitty coffee and the four walls of the humble convenience store.

But it comes, little by little, like mismatched pieces forming the mosaic of Iwaizumi Hajime. You see it in the weight of the world trapped in his gaze, the way he rolls broad shoulders as if expecting the bones to crack. Most of all, you realize as you take a sip from your can one night, it’s the way he seems to know you better than you know yourself.

It started simple enough, a nod and a flash of something on his face when you told him what you were majoring in. A knowing chuckle, more to himself, when you mention how the old woman that bought cat food was one of your favorite customers. It comes, little by little, until one piece remains. The only way to get it is to ask.

He beats you to it. “You know what I am, don’t you?” he asks as you’re lifting tonight’s can of coffee to your lips. You spare him a glance before taking a long sip, delaying a response for as long as possible.

“You definitely look too good to be human.”

The corners of his lips twitch. “It’s good to know you never change.” You set the now empty can on the counter.

“Have we met before?” Iwaizumi, at least, has the decency to look sheepish. “Your friend with the perfect hair asked if I remembered you.” He snorts with the identifier you’ve given Oikawa, but you press on. “I don’t. But I think you remember me.”

You wait with bated breath for the final piece to fall into place, but he regards you with a look you can’t read.

You’re about to chalk it up to another swing and a miss, but he pulls out his wallet, a worn leather thing. From it comes a single picture, the color faded yellow, the image predating even black and white photography.

It’s Iwaizumi, looking just the same as he does now. He’s got his arm around the person next to him, pressing a kiss to their forehead. The other person is grinning from ear to ear, and it doesn’t take long to recognize who it is.

It’s you.

[mongooseblues]

Well folks. Here it is. The horniest thing I’ve ever written. CW for some mess, as you might expect for a piece about someone in a shower with a running nose, but I’m not super into mess myself so it’s more implied than described for the most part. I couldn’t get the idea of shower sneeze out of my head so I’ll put it into yours.

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

The first thing he does upon getting home is turn the faucet to the highest setting to start a shower white-hot enough to be appropriately described as scalding. That would help, that would probably help.

He undresses as hissing steam gradually fogs the room, his peaky reflection becoming little more than a blur in the mirror. It’s cloudy and dreamlike, almost some fevered unreality by the time he steps into the spray, the temperature change provoking an instantaneous smattering of goosebumps and a good hard shiver. It takes all of maybe one minute for the steam to depressurize his sinuses and leave him with a remarkably runny nose and a tickle so sudden and overwhelming that he’s sneezing before he realizes he’s going to.

He snaps forward into the gushing water with an urgent, “HihYISSHHue—” hard and sharp in the acoustical bounce-back from tile and porcelain, an echolocation of resounding decibels that’s loud in his own ears. One isn’t enough because it never is and especially not right now so of course he’s going to—

“IIXSHHOO!” Sneeze again, “hih!” and—

“ISSHHyue!!” Again.

One after the other and depleting what feels like all of the air in his lungs, mandating a gasp like he’s coming up for air which technically speaking he is, pulling his head from the discontinuous curtain of water, sputtering post-baptismal. He slides his hair back from his forehead, two separate streams now running down his face, and wipes at his upper lip with a sigh.

He supposes it’s not unhygienic, to use his hands to blow his nose into, considering he’s able to rinse them off immediately. It does feel a little gross, even though it’s basically clear and barely viscous, undergoing quick liquefaction in his hands and erased by rushing water. And the obscuring steam makes this an even more private unraveling. It’s okay here, to be sick.

His only objective is to rid himself of every milliliter of it, forcibly empty his sinuses as much as he can, fingers folded over his nose and pressing closed one nostril at a time. It begins, the hopeful emptying, in effortless production, but eventually after dwindling relief crosses some line where it starts to feel aggressive and there’s a stinging burn that reminds him of breaching the surface of a swimming pool.

His nose and sinuses are warm and swollen and ever tendering with his continual abuses. He really should be more gentle or at least pace himself over the course of this cold because there’s plenty more of it to come, so this is the last time he’s going to blow his nose for now. This final go however buzzes so intensely against oversensitive membranes that he has to wrinkle his face and perform a little head shake that actually just makes him want to sneeze again.

Which he does in short order, a stabilizing hand finding purchase against the tiled wall, drawing a tremulous breath, small droplets of water slipping their way into his parted mouth and very temporarily pooling there.

Wet but richly voiced and made louder by ringing echo, “HihIIDSHHoo! —HIISSHHuu!!”

The briefest possible cycle of inhale-exhale-inhale leads into a higher pitched and very breathy, “Hih’IIHHH-hoo!” that almost makes him stumble and causes a few wetted locks of hair to tumble forward.

The groan afterwards is rather dramatic. He blinks to refocus through wet lashes and lets the pressure of the water gently recline his head backward. Letting go of the wall, finally, to rake his fingers through his hair, other hand occupied with an absent swipe under his nose at the resulting not-so-fluid trickle until it becomes clear this effort requires both hands and the whole production of blowing his nose over and over and okay just once more.

It does again tickle terribly at one point, and for a few unsteady seconds he thinks he might sneeze three goddamn more times but then miraculously doesn’t, just squints vaguely toward the corner of the shower with gaping lips and widened nostrils, a wavering look of white-flagged surrender. It’s almost meditative to close his eyes and concentrate on the distorted rhythm of indecisive breaths waxing and waning, and the patter of water against his skin. But then the feeling dissolves into a huffy exhale and he remembers he does have other things to do in here besides sneeze. Wash his hair and body, for example.

He works soap into a lather and allows himself longer than usual, letting the water pound and pulse against his shoulders and the back of his neck, which feels particularly tight. Self-soothing, his typical brisk and efficient shampoo scrub lengthening, softening into indulgently slow kneading.

He takes a minute to rub at his face, pressing the heel of a hand between his eyebrows to massage an oval into the ache building there and emits an involuntary moan falling somewhere between pleasure and exhaustion. Employing his shriveled fingertips to travel along the lines of his sinuses beneath his eyes and above his cheeks, palpating the places where it hurts. He’s unable to make it through his routine to the point of rinse much less repeat before he’s pulled out of it and into yet another crashing crescendo he grits his teeth against.

“HrrRISSHue!” The sudden velocity of the motion sends suds jettisoning from his hair, combining with misty spray.

“hih!YIISHHoo! IIZSHH-shuue...!” It concludes with a deflated release and leaves him an overall streaking and streaming mess.

Blowing his nose in here is starting to become a very tiresome chore. He’ll reach a point where he feels like he’s done and then the steam and heat inspire a new round of melting congestion he goes on trying to rid himself of, in an almost mechanically continuous loop and okay it’s probably not going to stop on his account.

Finally he rinses himself of all remaining foamy traces of soap and shampoo, enveloping his entire being into the disorienting rush of frenzied water, for a few moments feeling that uncomfortable washing machine nausea. Frankly he can no longer tell whether or not his nose is still running. This is probably as clean as he’s going to get and that’s fine by him because he’s starting to get dizzy and this is no place to be dizzy with its hard slippery surfaces.

He turns off the faucet and leaves the sanctuary of steam, suppressing a shudder as he pushes the shower curtain back into its accordion folds and steps out onto the much colder floor. He’s toweling his hair off when niggling irritation stops him and somehow he can no longer do anything else but just stand there, forestalled, waiting. His chest swells with need and his breath catches on a jagged-edged inhale and oh apparently he’s just going to sneeze into this towel because there wasn’t really enough warning to be thoughtful about towels—

“ErrRIISHHue!” directed into scratchy terrycloth, hands folding the entire thing around his face but he’s never been very good at muffling anyhow “—IIXXSHHuue!” He pulls back for a second to draw a bated breath through curling lips before his still-wet shoulders seize him into the third act of this exhausting display.

“hehh’YISHHHOO!!” ...Wow. His face feels loose and fuzzy in the aftermath. He never thought a shower could leave him so spent. A single quick wet cough crackles and breaks in his throat, bluntly foreshadowing worse yet to come. He sighs heavily, manages a slushy snuffle. Waterlogged and goosefleshed and dripping over the ground. Feeling naked in more ways than one.

He really is about to be quite sick isn’t he.

[hoodharlow]

Realizations

AN: This is a prequel to El Cumpleañero  and it’s also based on a something I asked @kindahoping4forever . Quick thank you to @cherryxwildflower and @karajaynetoday for letting me run ideas by them, ilysm. And a fat shout out to @d-oaks for beta reading and editing

Requested?: No

Warnings: None, mayyyyybe angst

Word Count:

Calum slowly placed his arm around Claudia. He let out a quiet sigh when she didn’t move away from him. They were in line at the movie theater for a showing of ‘The Goonies’, which they both wanted to see. 

“Your leg is vibrating.” Claudia told him. She took a step aside.

“Oh shit,” he mumbled. He fished out his phone and saw that Ashton was calling him. “Hey.”

“Where the fuck are you? You were supposed to be here an hour ago.” Ashton said through the phone. 

“Fucking hell.” He rubbed the top of his nose. He was supposed to hang out with Ashton since KayKay was going to be gone for the next couple of weeks, and he needed company. He glanced over to Claudia, who was typing away on her phone. “I completely forgot and made plans with Claudia. We’re at the movies if you want to join us.”

“You’re with Radio Girl? I thought you already fucked her?”

“I’m gonna take this real quick.” He told Claudia. She nodded and went back to texting. He got out of line and returned to the call. “We’re just friends.”

“Isn’t that what you said about—”

“Claudia’s different. I don’t know how to describe it, but you’d get it if you actually talked to her and not called her Radio Girl.” Calum said defensively. “I’m just looking out for you, you know. I don’t want to put you back together again.” Ashton sighed. 

“And you won't, mate.” Calum reassured him.

“Fine, go enjoy your date.”

“It’s not a date.” Calum said into the phone, but Ashton had hung up. He sighed and walked back to Claudia. She was putting her wallet away. 

“Everything good?” She asked him.

“Yeah.”

“I got the tickets.” Calum made a face at her. "What?" She giggled handing him his ticket. At the top of the ticket it said  'STUDENT'. Calum chuckled to himself, but his smile dropped when Claudia said,"It's not like this is a date— I mean not that we would go on one. We’re friends.”

"I'll get the snacks." Calum offered solemnly.

"Okay."

They wandered into the theater. Since the movie started in an hour, they decided to kill time in the arcade. Claudia dragged him into a photo booth where they spent a good half hour. Claudia had to sit on his lap because Calum took up most of the space in the booth. They squished their faces together to fit in the frame, testing out every filter that was offered to them. 

After a few rounds of Dance Dance Revolution, they waited in line for concessions. Calum rested his chin on Claudia's shoulder while she read the menu. She wanted a cherry slushie and popcorn. 

"Next," one of the workers waved them over.

Claudia leaned back on his chest. She closed her eyes just as Calum wrapped an arm over her, keeping her close. She liked how she felt in his arms. It felt right being like this with him.

The past few weeks that they've been hanging out, she started getting feelings for him. He's one of the most ambitious, generous, kind, funny and humble people she's ever met. He treats everyone with the highest level of kindness and never makes anyone feel bad about themselves. But she's not going to risk her friendship over some stupid feelings that could go away.

"And for your girlfriend?" She managed to hear the worker ask.

"Oh, I'm not his girlfriend."

"We're not dating." They both said at the same time. 

"Oh, sorry," They blushed and ran the order to another worker. 

Calum and Claudia stepped aside and waited for their order. This time they stood apart. They realised they felt something they didn't want the other to know… yet. 

***

“Are you wearing Ashton’s cologne?” she whispered as the lights dimmed. 

“Yeah.” He chuckled with her. He had stolen the cologne a few weeks ago at a party he took her to.  They’d been dancing the whole night and ended up crashing with the whole group because Ashton didn’t want them to drive home late. When they woke up so he could take her home, he found the cologne in one of the guest bathrooms. She bumped into him and said that he smelt good. Since then, it’s all he wears.

"I’m gonna move this." She told him a few minutes later. She pushed up the arm rest and put the popcorn tub between them. They were in one of the luxury theaters that had couches instead of the regular seats. "That way the popcorn is between us.

As the movie progressed, Calum stretched his leg over to Claudia's seat, so she was laying on him. They shared soft smiles and awkward giggles once the movie ended. Claudia pushed herself off him and got on her feet. Calum fixed his pants, making sure she didn't notice the number she did to him.

When they exited the theater and walked over to his car, it started to pour. Claudia was only in a long sleeve turtleneck. Calum pulled her under a building, keeping her out of the rain. 

They were chest to chest. Their awkward giggles sounded heavy in anticipation. Calum placed one of his hands on the wall, next to her head. The other rested on her hip, his thumb rubbing circles on the exposed skin on her stomach. He noticed that she wasn't wearing a bra.

The rain and the cold weather had caused her nipples to erect. Calum felt them poke his chest, and he liked to think he had some effect on her. He leaned forward slightly. This was probably his only chance to show her how he felt about her.

Bright lights landed on their faces. "Alright kids, break it up. Go make out in a room and not in public." the security guard told them.

Calum dropped his shoulders in defeat. Wordlessly, he pushed off Claudia and reached for her hand. After a few feet, he slipped off his jacket and put it over Claudia's head to keep the rain off her.

The heavy leather fell on her shoulders halting her mind from spiralling at the fact that Calum was going to kiss her. 

"Wait, no." Claudia said. She reached to take off his jackets. "You're gonna get sick." "You seemed cold." He nodded at her nipples. Claudia crossed her arms over her chest, embarrassed that he saw the effect he had on her. "Plus, I don't get sick."

***

Claudia grabbed her grocery bag from the backseat. Calum called off movie night because he got sick, so she took it upon herself to come over and make him some sopita. She would have brought Giuseppe's, but they didn't have his favorite soup.

She checked her bag, making sure she had everything for the soup. She went to the back and grabbed her blanket. It was a giant black and white San Marcos blanket with tigers. She also brought vaporub.

She walked up to the front door and rang the doorbell. Calum opened the door and looked a mess. His bright tan from spending over a month in Australia had faded. His eyes and nose were bright red with congestion and his overall sunshine self had become a broody dark cloud.

“I don’t get sick, my ass.” Claudia greeted him. She pushed passed him and went straight to the living room. She set down the giant blanket. Duke trotted over to her and gently headbutted her for some head scratches. 

“I told you I’m—” He couldn’t even finish a sentence before having a coughing fit. She rolled her eyes and pushed him on the couch. 

“Take off your shirt." She told him. Rummaging through her bag, she sat next to him. 

"At least buy me dinner first." He barely managed to say before having another fit of coughs. 

Claudia glared at him before he obliged. She uncapped the Vicks container and swiped a decent size on her hands. 

"Aver," she said, pulling his arm covering his chest. "This is good for you."

"No."

"I'm going to sit on you.”

"You won't."

Claudia sat on his stomach. She pinned his arms above his head and generously applied vapuru all over his chest. She moved a bit lower and reached for his shirt. She helped him put it on. 

Calum wrapped his arms around her and rested his head on her chest. He let out a soft hum when he felt her scratch his head. He looked up at her when she pushed him back down. She was close enough that he could just pull her down a bit and ki—

"Hey, I went to Giuseppe's but they had— Am I interrupting?" Ashton quirked up.  

"No," they both said. Claudia climbed off Calum. 

"I'm gonna get started on the soup, 'scuse me." she said. She grabbed her bag and went to the kitchen. Duke trailed behind her.

Ashton waited a bit before speaking up. "What is she doing here? I thought you were sick."

"I am. She's making me soup." Calum said defensively. He knew Ashton had opinions about new people he hung out with.   

"Is that what the kids call it these days?" Ashton chuckled. He sat on the opposite side of the couch where Calum was resting. 

"Ash."

"Cal, I get it. She's cute and someone you normally wouldn't fuck. But I don't know, there's something… off about her."

Calum rolled his eyes and reached for the blanket. It was like hugging Claudia. It reminded him that he needed to ask her for her fabric softener. The one he used started irritating Duke.

He listened to Ashton rant about Claudia. He nitpicked everything that bothered him. Calum suppressed a laugh. He found it ironic that everything Ashton found annoying was something he would do as well. It was something Calum noticed right off the bat as he got to know Claudia.

"... I doubt you're the first rockstar she's trapped with her legs." Ashton concluded. 

"Um, the soup is ready." Claudia said, startling both. "I'm gonna go before someone else talks shit about me before they get to know me. And the cookies are going to be ready in a few minutes."

She reached down and grabbed her backpack. Her assigned reading book fell out of her backpack as she fled. Before Calum could get up from the couch and stop her, he heard her car roar to life. He sighed and picked up her book. "Thanks a fucking lot, mate."

***

Claudia sighed; she was nervous. She hadn't seen or talked Calum in over a week, and now she's at his doorstep with a birthday cake. She clicked the heels of her boots in anticipation. 

What if he saw her and kicked her out right then and there? She'd been ignoring his messages and sent every call to voicemail. 

Mostly out of embarrassment. She just left and let Ashton create this whole image of her to him. Part of her trusted that Calum wouldn't go off of what he said. The other told her to run for the hills. 

Michael opened the door. He let out an excited laugh when he saw the cake. "Fuck yeah! We're getting some fucking good cake." He took the cake and led Claudia to the kitchen. "Someone cancel the Costco cake order."

Claudia rummaged through her bag and grabbed the doggie treats she baked for Moose, Southy, Petunia and Duke. 

"Here," She told Michael, handing him two baggies. “These are for Miss Moose and for Southy."

"Thanks, they loved the ones you made last time." He beamed.

"Oh and congrats to you and Crystal on your engagement."

"Thank you. I still can't wrap my head around the fact she said yes."

"How could she not? You're like one of the coolest dudes I know."

"Pizza's here!" Ashton announced. Him and Luke walked in carrying stacks of pizza boxes. 

Claudia tensed up at hearing his voice. She was still pissed at him. He had no right to talk about her like that. Especially to Calum. He probably thinks the worst about her now. She knew how much Calum valued and respected Ashton's opinion. He's his big brother after all. 

Claudia and Ashton made eye contact. Their gaze held the most unsettling energy. Claudia was ready to run for the hills and hide under a rock. Michael and Luke glanced at each other. Calum told them about the mess Ashton made, so they booked it and busied themselves with setting up a makeshift bar and beer pong stations.

"Can we talk?" Ashton asked solemnly. She knew that tone. It was the same tone her brothers and her dad used with any guy that would take her out when she was in high school. Whether it was on a simple movie to prom. They were ready to scare the guy off.

"Sure." She shrugged. She sat down on the stool in front of her. Ashton did the same.

Nothing happened in the first few seconds. They both sat in silence. Claudia played with a stray string on the sleeve of her dress. She slowly clicked the heels of her boots waiting for something, anything.

Ashton took a deep breath and finally spoke. “I’m sorry about the other—”

“You don’t have to apologize. You already have your opinion on me.” She cut him off. "I couldn’t  give a rat's ass what you think of me, but you have no right to talk about me the way you did to Cal. I'm a fucking virgin for fucks sake! I'm not going around 'trapping rockstars with my legs.'"

"You're right," he sighed. He massaged the top of his nose. "I just don't want to piece him back together again. He doesn't deserve that."

"Of course he doesn't. I promise you that I would never do anything to hurt him. He's my friend." She held out her pinky finger out to him. "Pinky."

Ashton swallowed a snarky remark and wrapped his pinky around her. "I really am sorry for saying that about you."

"Long forgotten. The pinky promise was a fresh start." 

***

Post Malone bounced off the walls. Claudia had her back against Calum's chest as she moved her hips to the music. Calum gripped her hips, following her movements. Kehlani's verse made its way out of the speakers. Claudia turned around and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. Calum leaned his forehead against hers. They both smiled at each other. Calum whispered silly shit in her ear making her toss back in laughter. He held onto her, keeping her from falling. It was like they were in their own little bubble. 

But bubbles eventually had to pop.

"Claudia, can you come to the bathroom with me?" Sierra asked her.

"Yeah." She leaned into Calum. "I'll meet you at the table where Ash and Luke are.”

"Here," He pocketed his keys and handed them to her. "Use my bathroom."

"Thanks."

Calum made sure that they made it up the stairs before going to their table. Michael had taken a break and sat with Luke and Ash earlier. Now they all sported the same grin on their faces, inching to make a comment. They all saw how the two were dancing.

He reached for a Modelo from their cooler and uncapped it. He took a long drink, waiting for their remarks and jokes. 

"Out with it." Calum told them.

"I'm gonna go." Michael and Luke said at the same time instead. 

"Beer pong when the girls come back." Luke challenged Calum. He nodded and Luke walked off to set up a table. Michael followed him, but he went back to his DJ booth.

Calum took another sip waiting for Ashton to say something. Michael had told him that he saw Ashton and Claudia talk while they were setting up for the party. 

"Claudia and I had a talk earlier today." Ashton said. 

"So I heard." Calum nodded.

"I apologized to her and we're good. But I want to apologize to you too." He took a quick sip of his drink. "I'm sorry for not trusting your judgment. You were right. Claudia's good person with even greater intentions."

"Well, I wasn't expecting that." Calum awkwardly chuckled. "Uh, apology accepted I guess."

"One question though."

"What's up?”

"Why haven't you asked her out? It's fucking obvious to the world and their nana that both of you have feelings for each other."

"She broke up with her boyfriend a few months ago. I don't wanna ask her out and potentially fuck up a good friendship."

Ashton thought back to what Claudia accidentally spilled to him earlier. He just nodded and said. "You'll know when the right time is."

Calum nodded. He scanned the place looking for Claudia and Sierra. They were talking to Luke, laughing at something he said. She felt his gaze on her, so she walked over to him.

"Luke said you challenged him to beer pong. I thought you sucked?"

"I didn't fucking challenge him, he challenged me." He got up and stalked off to Luke. He mumbled something to Luke, making him laugh.

Claudia watched them argue. Calum held two fingers and pointed at himself, then at her. Luke pointed at Sierra. They both nodded.

"Now it looks like now he did challenge him." Ashton told Claudia.

Claudia shook her in disappointment. "Ya me jodi."

Taglist: @calumscalm​ @karajaynetoday​ @cherryxwildflower​ @myloverboyash​  @idontneedanyone​ @findingliam-o​ @5-secondsofcolor​ @spicycal​ @sexgodashton​ @sunshinebabycal​ @another-lonely-heart

[thoughtfullyyoungduck]

Misjudgment

Summary: can you do a losers club x reader where the losers save the reader from the bowers gang so they invite her to the losers club, except stan doesn’t trust her bc he’s stan. so then the reader confronts him abt it and then they become friends?

Being the new kid in any new school is difficult a label designed and slapped on your forehead to follow you around and attrack attention because of it. Derry middle school was no exception, and in fact, to you knowledge, was even worse than any other school you had ever been too. Your parents switched jobs a lot, and with that came moving around heaps of times too, so being the new kid wasn’t a state-of-the art experience for you. 

It still sucked, walking into a school, your peers huddled together in group while you, the loner, picked at your fingernails to appear busy and to not get caught staring longingly as two friends giggled and talked about their crushes to one another.

The first time you spotted Bill, leader of the infamous loser club you would soon become a part of, was the same day you first witnessed Henry’s psychotic behavior, plundering Bill’s book bag and lighting it on fire mere inches away from the poor kids face. You had stomped over, snatching the bag out of Henry’s hands, the books were mostly destroyed and missing, and handed it back to the boy who scrambled up.

‘You better stay the fuck away from me you fucking hoer. You must either have a Deathwish or want to date B-b-billy,’ he mocked,’ enough that you don’t care who you piss of, and that mistake, can be deadly here in my town.’

Bill thanked you, asked for your name and invited you to join in on a birdwatching retreat him and his friend were going on, but you declined. The altercation left you rattled and spooked, and you didn’t know Bill or any of his friends, all strangers in a town of even more strangers, and went back home.

That decision had both negative and positive outcomes attached to it. Bowers awaited you along with his goons, emptying a slushie on your head and spitting in your face and hair, humiliating you to the best of their abilities. At one point, they tried to glue a freshly bought pad to your skirt, their tyranny halted as Bill and his followers threatened to call the police on them.

‘That’s what being brave will get you in this town’, Mike said, staring the bowers gang off as they .

‘Yeah, but luckily there’s strength in numbers.’

‘Yup, welcome to the losers club new kid. Ben, you’ve been kicked off the nickname ‘new kid’, I need to find you a new one.’ Richie pondered, tapping his fingers to his chin as he came up with a new nickname for Ben.

Persuading Richie into giving him a different derogatory name was enough for Ben to accept you with open arms in the group, as did almost everyone else, and you gained six new friends, a huge upgrade from the zero friends you had prior to them. The hospitality showed, and you were never forced to eat lunch or walk to class by yourself any longer.

The losers club consisted of seven people, but to your parents you vowed that there we’re only six friends you engaged with, because the seventh member, Stanley, was not your friend. At most, the two of you were acquaintances, people that hung out because of mutual friends.

He never liked you or made an effort to befriend you, his cold demeaner deterring and dynamite to your time dedicated to the losers. Not once did he address you personally, and if someone inquired a question and you would go to respond, Stanley would talk over you, like you were never there in the first place. The whole situation, that you had no inkling on how you ended up in the first place, put a damper on the blossoming friendship, and you often found yourself nail-biting tense, on the lookout for the day the other losers would be tired of the tense underlying issues themselves and kick you to the curb.  

This unease pushed you to confront Stanley about his behavior towards you, as you did not want to end up alone again, and you adored the friends you had made in the losers club too much to let go without a fight.

The opportunity to do this arose one day after school, when only Eddie and Richie, both lounging in the hammock, and Stanley and you are around in the clubhouse. You’re sketching in the a notebook, the one you and Bill share, to compare  various techniques and color schemes, and also because it’s fun and interesting to observe what someone else is crafting.

No one besides Bill and you know of its existence, but it’s not strictly a secret, it’s more of a - none of the others care so why tell them-? You’re seated in the stack of cushions, plumped up by Eddie, in order to protect ones ass against blisters, since that’s thing apparently, and Stanley is fully emerged in a book, as far away from you as the small, incepted space allows.

The drawing is coming along pretty well, the sketch portraying the clubhouse itself and it’s inhabitants, and you’re focusing on measuring the length between the hatchet and the far wall, when Stanley spots the book in your lap.

‘That’s Bill’s,’ he snidest, crossing the room in no time to protectively grab it and cage it in his arms.

‘I know that’, you secure, reaching for the book but too short to actually clasp it. ‘I borrow it from him.’

Stanley stares you down with a level headed look, ‘Oh, really?’ He says so sarcastically you urge to rip out his tongue and render him silent.

‘Yes really. What’s the problem with that Stanley?’

‘Stan the man, chill out’, Richie laughs on edge, squirming in his place as he and Eddie watch the situation unfold.

‘No fuck that. What the fuck did I do to get you to hate me so much?’

‘You know what you did.’

‘Enlighten me, fucking please Stanley.’  The hostility swarming around the two of you is palpable, and it’s containing to build to a crescendo neither are prepared for. His admission could potentially dissolve the undercover threat, a way for you to explain or fix the thing you display that Stanley contempt. But that can only be done if the thing gets pointed out, which so far, it hasn’t.  

‘You are conspiring with Bowers and Patrick, I am onto you.’

‘Excuse me?’

‘Just admit it.’

‘Okay, I fucking admit I’m colluding with the same douchebags that tried to defoule me. You got me there Stanley’, you’re seething, rage vibrating in every pore. Richie and Eddie attempt to deflate the situations, but glares from Stanley and you dispirited their focus.

‘Stan, come on,’ Eddie pacifies, ‘why would she do that?’

‘Is it not it convenient that she just so happened to be at the same time and place as Bill is getting beat up? And that she gets attacked right after but somehow escaped any physical damage? Who knows what secrets she’s been tattling?’

‘Well I’m sorry, let me go to them and ask if they would be so kind to punch me in the face’, your voice got more and more hysterical with every word, and you bend down your knees making eye contact with Stanley as you mock him.

‘Stan Urine, This isn’t ‘The Soldier’, they’re no such thing as spies, although Miss K in a spy suit is the fantasy to have for all my wet dreams.’ Richie vulgar joke goes by unnoticed, you and Stan involved in a staring match. You’re the one that breaks eye contact, huffing as you slide on your heels and move to leave.

‘Fine, whatever, I pick up on when I’m not wanted.’

‘No wait. Y/N, don’t go.’  

‘Stan the man gets prickly around the time his period is due, chalk it up to that.’

‘Shut the fuck up Richie no I don’t.’

You force the handle up, resting it a bit above your head and pause, sighing. ‘I’m not conspiring with Bowers, I just wanted to make friends.’ The latch gravitates to the floor after you’ve climbed out, and with it a chapter of your life, now it’s back to being friendless.

Four steps away from the clubhouse, the latch opens again and out tumbles Stan, meticulously lifting himself up by the piece of hardwood that is unscathed with dirt from the ground, and sprints to catch up with you.

‘I am sorry’, he says, flabbergasting you. ‘I should have been more open and accepting, and not my judgmental, evil self. I am not myself if I haven’t eaten a snicker and I apologize,’ Stan rolls his eyes.

‘Those lines were fed to you by Richie’, you state matter of fact, a smile tugging up your lips in spite of your earlier mood set.

‘No they weren’t’, elevates from below ground, conforming your suspicions.

‘Okay, yeah partly. But I do need to apologize. Being so antagonistic was wrong and unnecessary. Can we start over?’

‘I mean, give me back my notes and we’ll make a deal out of it?’

‘Of course.’

[specterchasing-a]

Brainberry Picking || Morgan & Eddie

TIMING: Current-ish

LOCATION: Jericho Hill Cemetery

PARTIES: @mor-beck-more-problems​ & @specterchasing​

SUMMARY: A zombie and a medium meet in a graveyard, one of them might have a foot fetish.

CONTENT: Aside from the foot fetish, all is well.

“I just don’t see how you can have a whole existence that relies on human systems and communities--well people systems and communities and not give a crap just because you’ve been doing it for a long time,” Morgan complained, swilling her chopsticks around her brains and rice. “Aren’t we responsible for each other even if we’re three hundred and some baby normie is twenty? How can apathy be a good thing?” 

It was her off day from work, and rather than worry her family by spending the day cooped up inside, she opted to spend as much time outside as possible, even if being in hunting range made her nervous. But Jericho Hill was more ghostly than anything else, and the trusted the soldier to signal if he saw anything dangerous looking, even if he did talk a big game about being specater in the game of humanity, and the effects of longevity. He’d saved her and Erin. He had more of a heart than he wanted to admit, even for a centuries-old kid.

The colonial soldier shrugged and said that she should wait and see until she was older. 

“Okay, teen grandpa,” Morgan deadpanned.

The colonial soldier changed the subject by way of nodding toward her foot. Did she require assistance or was she really just that bad at noticing grievous injuries?

Morgan looked down at the chunks of broken bottle protruding from her toes. “Fucking--” She hissed and propped up her foot, starting to yank out the pieces one by one and wipe the black blood on her skirt so there wouldn’t be anything for hunters to find when they prowled at night. Her wounds would close up soon enough. As much as she wanted to sport as much extra strength as possible, she hadn’t figured out how to negotiate her fear of being caught off guard by some junior college murderer and the fear of not being herself. 

In the distance, stone scattered across the tall grass. Morgan stopped, mid tug, and looked around. “Hello?”

Jericho Hill, one of Eddie’s most beloved places to visit. The other cemeteries in town had their charm, but meandering among the derelict headstones of White Crest’s oldest burial ground came second to none. As per usual, he arrived with a camera—just in case. 

Eddie minded the graves as he wandered, making sure not to intrude on anyone’s final resting place. Midway through the graveyard, he spotted two figures with their backs to him in the midst of conversation. Considering Jericho Hill was open to the public, that would’ve been a perfectly ordinary occurrence, except one of the figures happened to be a colonial soldier far beyond his expiration date. Eddie’s heart skipped a beat at the possibility of encountering another medium but, as he grew closer, he noticed the potential medium doing something with her foot.

Raising his camera, Eddie slowed his pace and zoomed in on the woman’s feet for a better look. “Oh, what the fu—” He stumbled over a semi-interred rock, nearly losing his balance and dislodging the rock in one fell swoop.

“Hello?” said the woman. 

Eddie froze in place as if staying perfectly still made him invisible. Realizing she likely had very little in common with Spielbergian dinosaurs, he cleared his throat and waved sheepishly. “Beautiful day, huh? Hey—is your foot okay?”

Morgan stiffened at the sound of a voice nearby. She ran a dozen or so scenarios Mina had drilled into her. She was better at defense on account of nine more months of practice, but that didn’t mean she relished the thought of having to throw anyone to the ground or break any bones. 

But it was just some kid, looking like a peeping tom who’d been found out. 

“Is it a beautiful day?” She challenged. “Because being spied on doesn’t usually fall under my ‘beautiful day’ umbrella.” At the mention of her foot, she put hers back down and yanked as many pieces out under the cover of the grass as she could. “I’m fine. Why are you looking at my feet in the first place?”

“Hold on, don’t do that,” Eddie said with a shake of his head. “Don’t make me sound like some kind of graveyard-foot-pervert. Look at it.” He gestured towards the foot in question. “That’s not natural and neither is talking to ghosts—hey, by the way, nice to see you again, Terry.” The second half of his statement was directed at the colonial soldier and paired with another short wave.

“Hi, Eddie,” the ghost responded.

 “Y’know, I was just excited to meet someone else who could see them, but the whole black goo thing kind of threw me off my game.” Eddie’s attention reverted back to the woman currently picking at her foot. “Also, who eats in cemeteries? I’m just saying, let he who is not being super weird in public cast the first stone.”

Morgan didn’t know what to process first, having her injuries spotted by a Gen-Z wunderkind with a camera, the “not natural” thing, him seeing the ghost, or-- 

“Terry? Really? You tell him your name, but not me?” Morgan reached over and elbowed the soldier through his arm.

“A man has to keep some mystery with a pretty lady,” he replied, smirking through the gash in his face.

 “Now you’re just trying to clean it up. Did you see him coming too?” She turned back to the kid, Eddie apparently, and  tucked her feet under her skirt. “Whatever you are, you aren’t the only kind of person who can make friends with ghosts,” she said, miffed but starting to deflate. He had said he was excited. Excited people usually didn’t try to lop off your head. “And for your information, cemetery picnics have been a time honored tradition for centuries. The Victorians designed some of their cemeteries to be enjoyed like parks. And there’s a lot less---” Kids. Couples picnicking. Burger wrappers and empty slushie cups. Life. “Crowds, in a cemetery. I like the quiet. And the company. Sometimes.” She side-eyed Terry, who clutched his chest like he was wounded.

The conversation unfolding before Eddie left him feeling like a child seeing their parents get into an argument. He casually averted his gaze in an attempt to give them some semblance of privacy while they worked through their dispute. Before he knew it, the irate woman’s attention was back on him and he found himself wishing their argument would have gone on longer.

“That’s… actually very cool,” Eddie admitted, his brows raising in approval. “But, um, circling back to what you said about seeing ghosts—I’m a medium, I thought we were only ones with that specific privilege.” He couldn’t help feeling inadequate as he confessed his ignorance. Eddie dedicated his life to knowing about the supernatural, but he barely knew anything for certain. “Who else made the cut? Obviously, you don’t have to, like, tell me what you are, or anything. Not unless you want to, which would be stellar, but… I feel like I should know that kind of thing.”

 “Medium, huh?” Morgan said, sizing the kid up again. “I’ve met a few of you. Exorcists, mostly, but still. But, since you asked so nicely, all of the undead I’m aware of and some fae can see and hear ghosts. It seems to be a proximity to death sort of thing, but I don’t know how the metaphysics works.” She set her lunch aside and dropped her hand under her foot to finish picking out the glass, away from view. She was mostly sure he didn’t actually have some voyeuristic foot fetish, but that didn’t do much for her self-consciousness. It was one thing to patch herself up at home, or with dead people who didn’t care, but with strangers, she felt the wrongness of her body. It wasn’t neutral, it was batshit. “You must be some kind of death enthusiast too, though. Coming out here by yourself in the middle of the day? It’s not exactly the nicest cemetery in town. I hardly see anyone alive out here on my visits. Shouldn’t you be hustling or studying or having fun somewhere?”

Eddie’s eyes glistened with rabid enthusiasm at the mention of the undead and fae. He’d only recently learned about the existence of zombies, and his fae-knowledge severely lacked depth. And here this woman was, sounding like she knew a great deal about both.

“Hustling?” he repeated the word with bashful incredulity. “I mean, this is fun for me. Not to sound edgy, but I love the dead. The living are cool too, but… they’ve never felt like home, y’know? All my life, I’ve been surrounded by dead people that either needed my help, or who helped me. I like spending as much time with them as I can.” He tried not to watch as she covertly plucked at her foot. Curious as he was, he could do without further insinuation that he harbored some sort of affinity for feet. “Is that how you are?”

With the last of the glass picked out, Morgan went still and regarded Eddie more carefully. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d met a human who spoke so affectionately about the dead, and she wasn’t sure whether to be thrilled or concerned. “You talk about the living like you aren’t one of them,” she said. “I don’t meet too many humans that apathetic about who they are. But your ghosts--they were good to you? You weren’t ever scared?” But one revelation deserved a little something in return, and anyone that fond of the dead probably wouldn’t sell her out. Morgan pursed her lips as she thought her answer over. “I am recently un-humaned, yes,” she said. “A little over a year now. You could say making friends with death saved my un-life, but I had lots of other help too. Living-people-help.”

The stranger had a point—Eddie never felt like he belonged among the living—but never had the dissonance he felt been stated so bluntly. “I guess, yeah. The living are assholes, for the most part.” There were, of course, exceptions to that rule, but they were few and far between. “Most have been good to me, except…” Eddie shook his head gently. “They’re individuals too, can’t expect them to all be winners.” As she admitted to being undead, he looked at her with enraptured awe. “That’s… wow. I mean, first of all, I’m sorry for your loss. You’ve probably got a handle on things by now, but I’m sure that’s a pretty wild transition. And, I’m glad you had people to help you adjust, support systems are so important.” Eddie took a moment to center himself. “What’s the, uh, preferred terminology for your… condition? Also, wow, I should probably ask your name, huh? Like Terry said, I’m Eddie. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He bowed his head slightly to punctuate his sentence.

“The living are individuals too, Eddie,” Morgan said. “And if you didn’t know about undead and fae seeing ghosts, I’m guessing you haven’t met many of the other living species of people out there. It doesn’t seem like a good idea to dismiss all of them out of hand. Or especially kind. Your ghosts were living once too, you know.” But Eddie’s vagueness piqued a troubling sense of familiarity in Morgan. Children didn’t tend to rely on ghosts if they had live people to take good care of them. “Those must have been some pretty shitty assholes to make you give up on everyone alive, human or not. I’m sorry for that, Eddie. Whatever happened to you, whoever was that cruel--I know how it can feel safer to just pull away and not risk yourself again, when you’ve suffered enough in a certain way. And I’m sorry.” She sighed and held out her hand to the kid, smiling sadly for both of them. “I’m Morgan Beck. You can refer to my ‘condition’ as zombie. But that’s classified. I don’t really enjoy having to fight for my existence. Not that a slayer won’t already know what I am on sight, but I’d rather they not get any extra help you know?” Her smile curled bitterly and she turned her eyes to the rest of the cemetery. “Are you really out here because it’s fun, Eddie…?” She asked quietly. “Or is it something else, too?”

When Eddie set out for Jericho Hill earlier in the day, he hadn’t expected a lecture. “Death changes a person,” he said softly after she reminded him that ghosts weren’t always memories. It didn’t take him long to realize the issue with his statement. “Preacher, choir.” He gestured first to himself, then Morgan as he assigned the labels. “You probably have a point.”

Eddie found himself nodding along with her condemnation of ‘shitty assholes’ initially, but he stilled when he heard her apology. His expression fell into unsure neutrality; he didn’t know how to respond. Strangers weren’t usually that kind, and they never read him like a book. It took him a moment to register her outstretched hand before he grasped it with his.

“Pleasure to meet you, Morgan Beck,” Eddie said, mirroring her sad smile. “Your secret’s safe with me. People like you shouldn’t be hunted, anyway.” Her question took some mulling over. Eddie didn’t particularly like being open and honest on that front. “Well, I mean, it is fun, but…” He trailed off with a sigh before shrugging. “Actually, that’s kind of bullshit. I can’t remember the last time I had fun—maybe with Bex or Alfie, but that’s different. Having fun with friends is easy but, when I’m alone…” Eddie shook his head and let out a terse sigh. “Are you, like, a psychiatrist or something? Analyzing brains by day, eating them by night.”

“What? Death changes you? No kidding,” Morgan deadpanned. “You can consider me an expert on both sides of the curtain,” she added more kindly. “Thank you. For your...Human-Plus allyship?” She wasn’t sure what to call it. She confided in so few humans these days. She had enough on her plate with her family as it was. 

She kept looking at Eddie, his battered hollowness and his resilient vitality. There was more than one way to be alive and dead, she supposed. “I’m an adjunct professor in the English department at the university,” she said. “But I spent my alive-time on earth literally cursed with suffering, and consequently spent a lot of time desperately wanting to get to know people and being afraid of getting too close, in case they got sucked into my magic bullshit. So I’m good at noticing things and I understand a lot. Like that feeling where you can be mostly okay when you’re with people, especially the ones you care about, but when it’s just you that feeling you’re running from is still there and it settles in. But we don’t have to talk about that, if it makes you uncomfortable. Also, I resent the suggestion that I eat people. I’m actually trying to hurt as few people as possible right now for reasons that have nothing to do with my appetite, which I monitor and manage very carefully. So I’d appreciate it if you didn’t do that again. You can tell me about how you know Bex, if you really want a change of subject.” Beaming at Eddie, she brought up her knees and let her head fall to rest on them and settled in. She’d given him a lot, but if he was friends with Bex, it was probably best he got used to the ride.

Eddie deserved her snark, even he could admit that. Despite his theorizing, fantasizing, and romanticizing—he didn’t know what it meant to be dead. Against better judgement, he envied Morgan and the way she straddled the line between life and death. It sounded ideal, at least on paper. “I strive to be a friend of the dead,” he said with a mild shrug. “Clearly, that doesn’t absolve me of insensitivity though, sorry about that.”

As she caught him up to speed on the source of her empathy, he listened with enraptured fascination. Eddie didn’t know the first thing about curses, but he liked to think he understood the loneliness she alluded to. “Sounds like you got saddled with a spectator role, that sucks. Most people aren’t built for that.” He hoped he wasn’t projecting, but he wouldn’t be surprised if that turned out to be the case.

“Shit—thanks for correcting me. I shouldn’t have made an assumption like that,” he admitted timidly when she kindly scolded him for his comment about brain-eating. His face lit up at the mention of Bex. “You know ‘er?” he asked, taking a seat in front of Morgan. Knowing she was familiar with someone like Bex instantly eased whatever lingering uncertainty he still felt. “We met pretty recently, I guess, but she’s the kind of person I feel like I’ve known a lot longer than I actually have, y’know?” 

Eddie wondered how much information was safe to bring-up, ultimately deciding to play it safe. “It was after… well, she’d just gone through something pretty awful, and I think I made things a little harder on her. Not on purpose, of course, I didn’t know, but… she was really kind to me, anyway. I think that goes to show how special she is.” He neglected to mention the magical mishap; maybe Morgan didn’t know that side of Bex. “How do you know her? If that’s alright to ask, I mean.”

“You weren’t built to be a spectator in your life either, Eddie,” Morgan said. “No one is. We are here to learn, to connect, to experience. What’s the point of being stuck in a body if not to feel? What’s the point of being surrounded by so much mess and beauty if not to learn as much as you can from it? It’s cruel to take it for granted. And it’s cruel to hurt someone in a way that they cut themself off from anything good they might find in their tiny little existence.” 

She fingered the tall, young grass as she spoke. She could never settle on a memory to give its strange, invisible touch more substance. When she was a child in Houston and her mother would send her into the yard to practice her alchemy, the grass was thick and sharp. It prickled her feet so badly she’d check her heels to see if they had cut her. They never did. So maybe the grass was like dull needles, or like tiptoeing around the rules, since she would often do her exercises slowly or skip steps on purpose so she could do them over again and make her time out last longer. Long enough to see the stars appear, but before the mosquitoes ate her up.

“But yes, I was really bad at keeping my distance,” she went on. “Which made for a lot of good experiences and a lot of hurt. Honestly, I wish I’d taken more risks, made more kinds of alive-memories to hold onto.”

She couldn’t help but beam at hearing the boy talk about Bex. Nothing he said was news to her, but it was nice to see her kindness reflected in someone else’s eyes. “Bex is staying with me right now. Has been for a while. Well, me and my girlfriend. We care for her as if she was ours, as best as we know how, anyway. So I know,” she grinned. “You’re not breaking supernatural club rules if you want to talk about her.”

Eddie wanted to agree with Morgan, to say that life was something precious and cherishable, but he couldn’t bring himself to lie. Death looked a lot more appealing to him whether or not he made a triumphant return as something a little less human. “Cruel or not, people do it anyway,” he said with a shrug. “I’m coping with it the only way I know how.” Granted, his coping looked a lot more like sabotaging. 

Eddie didn’t think much of the grass, it was just grass; everywhere and unextraordinary. All it had to offer him were stains, the thought of which made him shift uncomfortably. He felt that way about a lot of everyday life’s mundanities. They didn’t exist unless they caused a problem. Morgan had a point when she warned him against taking things for granted, but Eddie didn’t realize it. How could he?

“I bet that’s weird,” he said. “Everything changing, but also not. I don’t know much about zombies, obviously, but I know coming back is rough for a lot of ghosts. I’d tell you that there’s still time to take those risks, but I get the sense you didn’t come to Jericho Hill looking for silver linings. At least, not ones given to you by some random guy with a foot fetish.” He ended on a joke in the hopes that it might lighten the mood, praying she didn’t think he was serious.

A sigh of relief passed Eddie’s lips. “Beamed a heaping helping of trauma right into my head,” he explained. “She didn’t mean to, of course, and I’m not exactly mad about it, anyway. Knowing her is worth a little muss and fuss. That said, I learned my lesson. No more alleyways for Bex.”

“Eddie, and I mean this kindly, with the kind of empathy that comes from experience--” Morgan prefaced her words softly, giving Eddie a look that pitied and understood too well. “Putting all your attention on other people’s problems so you don’t have to look at your own doesn’t make them go away, or get smaller. A lot of the time it just makes them grow heavier and sink their roots deeper into you.” 

She reached out and gently flicked some of his long hair out of his eyes. “Worrying about me isn’t coping. What’s so bad about turning all this nice attention on yourself? I know people haven’t been kind, but whatever they said or did, they weren’t right about you. You deserve kindness. And love. Being here is hard enough without being cruel to yourself too. But--” She grinned wryly. “You didn’t come to Jericho Hill for a pep talk from a walking dead lady.” 

She picked up her Pyrex and ate the last bit of lunch and dusted herself off. “I’m going to go home and prep some raccoon bones for my next art project, if you want to come. Bex has some really great pieces she’s made too. But we know each other now, so I hope you won’t try and disappear just because I know what song you’re playing.”

Eddie listened as Morgan spoke. Meanwhile, his stomach twisted into anxious knots. He didn’t want to hear that putting others first wasn’t the answer. Tackling his problems head-on hurt too much, especially considering he rarely had help. “Yeah, so I’ve noticed.” His gaze fell to the ground. Eddie couldn’t bring himself to say more, it might inspire her to confront him with even more difficult truths. It was nice feeling like she cared, he didn’t expect that from someone he just met, but it was also heavy. 

Eddie let out a soft huff of laughter when she flicked a strand of his hair. Such a simple gesture, but the familiarity of it inspired a gush of affection. “Maybe not, but I’m glad that didn’t stop her from giving it to me anyway.”

“Are you kidding?” Eddie asked in disbelief, rising to his feet. “You’re a bone-art making, pep talk giving zombie with a weirdly comforting southern accent. Good luck getting rid of me, you’ll need it.”

[dammitadolfnomorecake]

Once Bitten, Twice Stupid prt 112

112

Stopping at the service station on the drive up to the cabin for his birthday weekend, Keith was drawn away from Lance by Hunk and Pidge. His boyfriend wanted to stay in the car, Shay also staying. Matt and Shiro were on slushie duty for the lot of them, Rieva trying on sunglasses. Lead away from them, Keith found himself in the bathroom with his friends, feeling kind of nervous over being singled out.

    “Alright. Spill. What’s going on with you and Lance. He’s been sulking all day”

Lance wasn’t sulking, Keith knew exactly what was up with his boyfriend, despite what Pidge was thinking

“He’s not sulking”

“He’s been quiet the whole drive. Hasn’t even sung along to anything once, and he’s letting you drive. He doesn’t just let people drive”

They weren’t telling the other. Not yet. Not until the next scan went well.

    Keith had talked to Krolia. Kind of. He’d started crying and sort of just walked up and hugged her. His mother shocked, but slowly hugging him back. She didn’t know Lance was pregnant. That... he’d chickened out of. Though it kind of felt like she knew by the way she hugged him, which was totally ridiculous. All he could really do is say he got why she left, as even though he’d come to work early to see her, she was headed out for a new undercover mission. They barely spoke. She wished him a happy birthday and asked if she could call. Keith agreeing, but didn’t know if he’d get coverage... asking to talk to her better when she came back.

    Hunk crossed his arms

“We’ve known Lance long enough to know when he’s not in a good mood. What happened?”

“He’s just tired”

“Keith. Something has been going on and it all comes back to that accident. Don’t lie to us. We’re supposed to be your friends”

It wounded him to hear Hunk be so firm with him... Ugh. He was going to have to be truthful to some degree

“Lance is nervous. We haven’t had sex since the accident and he’s a bit grumpy, but he’s not sulking”

Hunk groaned, Pidge gaping, before straightening her facial features

“He’s cranky because he’s not getting any? Dude! We didn’t need to know that! Why’s he been staying with you if he’s not getting any?!”

“Because Lance’s body is a little different, Coran’s wanted him to stay close while he tries a different diet...”

Kind of true. And morning sickness had kicked in. Lance blowing chunks when Keith was brewing coffee. Lance insisted he’d be fine, but it was hard to enjoy coffee when your boyfriend was throwing up in the kitchen sink. Pidge continuing to be her blunt self

“He’s a vampire, what kind of diet change could he possibly need?”

“He likes human food. Coran’s trying to find a way from him to keep it down longer”

“We know you’re still hiding something. It makes no sense. He heals and stuff, right. So why did he have to stay at VOLTRON for so long?! And why didn’t he want us coming to see him!?”

“It’s not that he didn’t want to. He gets embarrassed about relying on blood... and paranoid about the roads in the snow...”

Keith sounded lame, even to himself

“He can’t help it”

“He knows that but being a vampire isn’t easy, especially with how his body’s changed. Sometimes he gets really self conscious about it. So I had him stay with me so we could talk about it. He’s not avoiding you guys or anything... he missed seeing you”

Pidge put a stern look on her face

“Keith Kogane. I swear I’m going to steal Kosmo away if you’re lying to me”

“I’m not lying... look, some stuff did happen, vampire stuff. He’s told you Platt isn’t safe right now. Just give us a little bit longer and we’ll explain”

“You better. We miss having you home”

    Keith opened his arms for a hug, because that’s how Lance would approach things and he really was trying to do the right thing by everyone involved. Pidge first to hug him back, then Hunk

“You don’t get to worry us”

“We’re both sorry. Lance is okay. He’s a bit exhausted, but okay... he’s been throwing up a bit but that’s because of his body. He’ll be okay with rest and time”

“I don’t like him not being okay”

“I don’t either. Plus, I’ve had some stuff going on, so I selfishly kept him to myself”

“You can talk to us, you know. About that kind of thing. We’re all friends”

“Yeah, but it’s complicated. Just Krolia stuff”

“You can talk to us about her too. We’re pretty much like a big weird family... Lance is kind of like the weird uncle... and you’re dating the weird uncle”

“He’s not weird”

“He kind of is... I mean, seriously. He’s super older than us and still has no grasp on technology”

“I’m kind of with him on that one. As long as it works then it’s all good”

“This is why the pair of you are hopeless. Keith, is he really okay after the accident? Matt was really shaken up... we were too”

“He fell down the stairs at home and started bleeding from it... he also had a bad reaction to medication Coran was trialing. He’s better than he was. Especially without the medication...”

“You can’t just say that. Why does a vampire need medication?”

“His body doesn’t always... it’s complicated. Um... I should probably tell you he has to have vitamin injections at the moment because his body burns through things pretty fast...”

Lance would know how to reassure Pidge and Hunk better than the job he was doing

“I thought being a vampire would be easy”

“It’s not... I promise we’ll tell you everything, but not right now”

Pidge giggled at him

“You’re so nervous. It’s like you’re going to tell us something whack like Lance is pregnant. I know things are crazy, but it can’t be that weird”

“Would it be so weird if he was?”

    The joking tone in Keith’s voice was strained, he didn’t feel overly happy at Pidge’s joke, nor did he feel like Lance being pregnant was a joke in any way, shape, or form

“Unless he’s hiding something down there... oh my god, next thing Matt is going to be pregnant... can you imagine that?”

Keith let the hug drop. This was what Lance was afraid of and now he was living it, he felt physically sick. Pidge was laughing at the thought of Matt, but the way Hunk caught his gaze, it was like the big man knew something was wrong with him

“Pidge, why don’t you head back to the others? I have to use the bathroom... and this is the men’s”

Pidge rolled her eyes at Hunk

“You boys and your junk. Actually. No. I don’t want to see that. Thanks for the laugh Keith, I needed it. Don’t take too long losers or I’ll have to tell Shay and Lance you’re cheating on them”

    Pidge waltzed out the bathroom with a bounce in her step. Hunk waiting until the door swung closed before awkwardly worrying his middle fingers together

“I’m... not sure how to ask this, man. But... you had a really sad look on your face right now and the only thing I can think is that... are you saying Lance is... like... you know...?”

“What would you say if he was?!”

Keith was harsher than needed with Hunk, Hunk flinching

“Whoa! No... hey... um... I guess... I mean, he turns into a bat... and if he’s okay than that’s cool... I guess I don’t get it but he’s not really like human if he can turn into a bat... but if he’s okay than I guess that’s what I’m trying to ask... and maybe if you can please stop looking like you’re going to murder me because I really like Shay and I don’t want to be buried in the woods”

    Keith clenched his fists, hurt by Hunk thinking he’d hurt him. Noticing, Hunk shuffled closer and hugged him, Keith’s own word vomit coming out as fast as Hunk’s

“I didn’t mean to... I would never hurt you, or Pidge... It’s Lance. If he heard what Pidge said, he’d be really upset. He was a normal vampire until I came along. He couldn’t turn into a bat. He didn’t have all these complications he has now... he was happy and now his body is changing and he... I would never... I would never turn against you guys... you’re like... my first real friends”

“It’s okay, man...”

“No. I shouldn’t have snapped. I’m worried about him. He’s a special kind of vampire and he’s had to coop himself up a lot because of it... The accident was really bad and he needed a lot of sleep to recover. I’m still worried about him hiking today”

“I can’t say I really get, but you can rely on us”

“Even if you think I’m going to kill you”

Yeah, he was miffed still

“To be fair, there’s a lot of times I thought Pidge would kill me too... funnily enough, not so much Lance”

“That’s because he’s barely even a fucking vampire... he’s more like a human with sharp teeth. I’m going to head back. Lance wanted some chapstick thing, I don’t really have a clue”

“Good thing you’re mates with his best bud, he always goes for eucalyptus”

“Thanks for the heads up. I thought strawberry would be more his thing”

“I know right? I don’t know. Maybe it’s a vampire thing”

“Probably... Thanks, Hunk. I’ve really missed hanging out with you, and Pidge. Platt seems pretty far away from Garrison”

“You’re welcome any time, Dude”

    Keith wanted to return the sentiment

“I’m sorry I can’t have you at my place”

“Nah, it’s cool man. It’s like you live in a top secret lair”

“It’s just an apartment”

Hunk groaned at him in a very Lance like way

“Let me have this...”

Keith supposed indulging his fantasies wouldn’t hurt

“There’s safes with weaponry and swords, does that help?”

“Definitely a secret lair. Oh man. I know you sent photos but I totally feel like it’s got lair vibes. Like weapons all in a hands reach”

“Pretty much”

“That’s... cool and also a little scary. Okay, let’s go before Pidge ends up with too many slushies”

        *

Lance was not having a great time in the back of his Bronco. Kosmo was out his carrier and in his lap, acting like his personal heater as Lance hunkered down. Everyone had food... apart from Keith. That combined with the scents trapped in the bronco left him feeling green around the edges. He’d so far not thrown up, but that was thanks to swallowing down his nausea. He regretted not stealing one of Keith’s shirts, his boyfriend’s natural scent was still there, but it had a lot to contend with.

    Keith was driving. Not that Lance minded, but it was weird to be sitting behind his boyfriend instead of cuddled into him. He’d made a fuss of assuring Keith that he’d be okay for the drive, but his stomach was somewhere back in Garrison, and his head was still on his pillow. They’d spent the night in Garrison, against what Coran wanted, but Lance needed a little bit of normality to prepare for the weekend. He’d nearly chosen to go with Rieva and Matt for the warmth factor alone. Rieva had cleaned up so well that there was no traces of the accident, other than a new patch in the wall, which he wasn’t sure was his fault. It bugged him that everything was hazy between the top of the stairs and the bottom.

    Waving her slushie under his nose, Pidge was a ball of energy

“Do you want some?”

Now he knew he was being pathetic. Pidge didn’t share her slushies. She treated them like her precious coffee

“Nah, I’m good”

“Dude, you’re totally missing out”

“I’m fine...”

He felt irritable. He longed to throw the stupid slushie out the window. He couldn’t have the window down because Kosmo wanted to stick almost his whole body out when it was. Having it only partially cracked made too much noise. He should have gotten out and stretched at the service station, only the smell of fuel made his stomach roll. Keith bringing back the right kind of chapstick helped. Eucalyptus pretty much saved him in crowds

“Keith, Lance won’t be sociable!”

“Leave him alone, he’s tired”

“But he’s not even in road trip mode”

“I’m fine. You’re making something out of nothing. I’m going to nap until we get there...”

“Fine, I guess you’re not up for a game of “eye spy””

Normally he would be. Family trips had prepared him to come up with some impressively hard things

“Nope. I’m sleepy. Keith, don’t let her win. You’ll be hearing about if for days if you do”

Keith’s eyes met his in the rear view mirror, Lance giving him a nod to let him know he was okay, before sinking lower in his seat and rubbing Kosmo’s fur. Blue couldn’t come, she was too adventurous. Kosmo was plenty adventurous, but he was also easily swayed by the idea of human food

“Got it. Pidge, why don’t you go first?”

“You asked for it, Kogane”

      Closing his eyes Lance pretended to nap, listening to Pidge conspiring with Shay against Hunk and Keith. He’d really missed his friends and hated feeling too sick to join in. Keith would be worrying, but it’s not like he had some magical cure not to feel dead. The drive getting more interesting when Pidge called Matt, putting him on loud speaker so they could play eye-spy with everyone. Matt really was a dumb genius. His turns leaving Pidge demanding clues... and Rieva showed no mercy either. Shay was shy about joining in, then she stumped them all with “Glove Box”. Lance mentally cheering her on.

          *

When they finally reached the parking lot, Lance was happy to be back on land. Legs wobbly as he stretched, before being tugged off by Kosmo who needed to do his doggy business. Keith jogging over to them, as Lance leaned against the tree

“You okay?”

“Yeah, babe. Kosmo needed the tree more than I did”

Keith snorted, slipping his arms around Lance’s waist, Lance shuddering as his boyfriend’s hand rubbed at his stomach. He fucking loved it. There was something definitely mental about loving belly rubs, but it made him feel so much better when Keith did. His boyfriend’s voice coming from beside his ear

“You were really pale in the back”

“Mhmm... yeah, I’m okay. Just a lot of scents. Outside smells much better”

“Okay. If you need to rest, let me know”

“I’ll be fine. You’re worrying too much”

“Says the guy who doesn’t hike”

“Says the boyfriend of the guy who made him but proper hiking boots”

“You can’t hike in sneakers”

“Pretty sure I could have”

“And rolled your ankle from the lack of support. Come over when you’re ready to go?”

“I’m just waiting for Kosmo. He’s gotta have a sniff and decide he needs to pee some more”

“Poor guy, he doesn’t know he’s losing his balls next month”

Lance chuckled

“I’m glad you remembered that... but this is a birthday weekend for you, not a weekend for Kosmo to be saying goodbye to his balls”

“Both is okay. I’ll grab your bag. You’ll have you hands full with him”

“Nah, I’ll be okay. We should get going soon so we don’t end up walking through the woods at night”

“Okay”

        The car ride might have been near torture, but hiking was worse. Things started how they usually did, with enthusiasm, then progressed into trudging after the first half hour. The trail was clearly marked, that being a nice surprise. What wasn’t a nice surprise was the blistered on Lance’s feet from his new boots. Pidge had blisters too, Matt piggybacking her after the 10th time they had to stop because of it. Hunk and Shay seemed fine, Shay allowed to hike in sneakers... Lance not salty at all. Being experienced hikers, Keith and Shiro could have easily left them in their dust. Lance happy enough to plod along with Curtis, who seemed to be taking it harder than Lance thought he would. The best bit of the hike was Keith taking photos along the way. His boyfriend’s face cute as he lined up his shot, looking so damn solemn as he took his photos that Lance smiled every time he did. He wanted Keith to have the best birthday weekend ever... and for him to totally not notice Lance had busted up his feet. They’d heal with in no time with a bit of blood, but his blood was in his pack and he couldn’t drink in front of Shay, or he’d look like an alcoholic taking swigs out of a wine bottle.

    Reaching the camp area, Lance was impressed by how modern and rustic it looked at the same time. The newer of the cabins had huge windows looking over the forest below them... the central area fitted out with a fire pit large enough for all of them to sit around it comfortably. Pidge seemed to miraculously recover from her blisters as she slid off Matt’s back

“I get first dibs on my bed!”

She made it a few metres before she came to a stop, taking off her boots and throwing them towards the fire pit, making her views on hiking clear. If he’d felt better, Lance would have enjoyed the hike. He loved the scents of the woods. The scent of damp earth and rain was far better than petrol fumes. With his grip on Kosmo’s lead lax, the Kosmo took off after Pidge, barking at her. Yeah. They all definitely deserved this weekend away

“Let’s head up to main cabin for now and get everything put away”

Curtis nodded in agreement with his boyfriend. The pair of them were totally the”Dads” of the group.

    Sighing to himself, Lance wanted to collapse on the closest bed and nap. It felt like time to nap. Hearing him sigh, Keith jogged back towards him, his boyfriend holding his precious camera as he did

“Babe?”

“I’m fine...”

“You sighed”

“It’s a long way to the cabin from here”

Keith snorted at him

“Is that your way of saying hiking isn’t for you?”

“Nah, hiking is fine... I’m with Pidge though, boots suck”

“Don’t be like that. This place looks amazing”

And like that Lance’s mood lifted

“You like it?”

“What I’ve seen so far. Want me to piggy back you to the cabin?”

“Don’t tempt me... I hope there’s a fire. I’m cold again”

“Aw, no. We better get you inside before you get cranky”

“I’m not cranky... I’m just... cold. Not all of us can hike 5kms then look like some kind of grizzled and rugged mountain man”

Keith laughed at him

“I wouldn’t say that”

“I would. Look at you. You’re all sweaty and still hot as hell”

    Keith was embracing his inner wild woodman... Yeah. Lance couldn’t think of the word for lumberjack. With his flannel shirt over his singlet, and his black jeans with thick belt, all Keith needed was the axe and he’d be a wet dream. Pulling him up against him, his boyfriend even smelt all grizzled and manly as he leaned in to kiss him

“What was that for?”

“For you. Now we’re here, I’m really glad you didn’t cancel it”

“Is that so?”

“Yep. And tonight, when everyone is sleeping, I’m going to show how glad I am”

    This was a far cry from the Keith who wasn’t ready. Lance groaning at the interested twitch his gave

“Baaaabe”

Keith had finally sort of maybe found that he was okay with touching... or at least okay enough to get them both off in the shower that morning

“I’m going to make you feel so good”

“You’re going to have to blow me if you keep this up”

“I planned to whoo you tonight”

Lance heard... he’d heard and felt stupidly horny all the previous night because of it... he’d damn near assaulted Keith making out with him in the shower that morning, nearly crying at how good it felt to have Keith’s hands on his junk again

“I know. I heard you asking yourself if you packed condoms, then telling yourself that it was okay and you weren’t going to hurt me... you talked to yourself a lot when you were packing”

“That’s cheating”

“Nah, it’s nice... just means you’re finally ready to start relaxing into things... now, Matt and Rieva have heard enough about our sex life, we should get inside before we traumatise them into wanting to leave earlier”

That was his way of gently reminded Keith about the others not knowing he was pregnant

“Sounds good to me...”

      Inside the main cabin was a nice and neat modern set up with directions on how to use the batteries that powered the camp ground alone with a list of do’s and don’t’s. Pidge was hyperactive again, Hunk taking command of the kitchen and evicting her her to explore while the “adults” unpacked. Lance decided he wasn’t going to try and help with unpacking. Too many hands in Hunk’s kitchen would lead to Hunk turning into the Hulk, so the vampire was content to settle down in the living area, claiming the recliner for himself with a happy sigh. The fireplace in the cabin was huge, neatly stocked with a pile of wood in the hearth and another pile in a holder on the wall. Yeah. He liked this place. Too easily could he become a hermit up here, if it wasn’t for the whole needing blood thing. With his backpack in his lap, he pulled the handle for the footrest, wishing his boots would take themselves off.

    None of this went unnoticed by Keith. His boyfriend coming over to lean over the back of the recliner and kiss him

“You still okay?”

“Yeah... reckon they’ll notice if we steal the recliner?”

“Probably. You need anything?”

“Nah. I’m going to work out how to covertly have a drink, then maybe convince myself to undo my boots”

“I can do it”

“It’s fine”

“Nope... I’ll do it”

Lance was torn. His feet hurt and he wanted out the boots, but he didn’t want to spoil Keith’s mood... Keith would be sadder if he wasn’t honest

“Just... I’ve got blisters. I mean, they’ll heal, and they’re fine, but...”

“Babe, why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because it’s nothing much. It’s not the first time I’ve gotten blisters while camping. Normally I collect the wood while Pidge and Hunk start setting up... I’ve got loads of experience”

“You should have told me, we could have taken a break”

“We did take a break... more than once”

“Still...”

“Keith, you’re worrying too much”

“But...”

His idiot boyfriend wasn’t going to keep their secret this weekend if he kept this up

“My craving for macaroons is fine”

Keith sighed at him. “Macaroon” had kind of stuck

“Alright. I’m still going to do your boots”

“Fine, if you’re going to be like that, you can do the fireplace too... and I wanna leave my socks on”

      Keith didn’t listen, or maybe he didn’t want to. Lance’s feet were slightly bloodied from the blisters. His little toes taking the brunt of them

“Babe!”

“It’s fine”

“What’s going on?”

Shiro jogged over to them. Right. He knew. Great. Now he had two idiots fussing over him

“Nothing. Keith is overreacting to my feet being sore”

Shiro let out a whistle as he looked at Lance’s feet. This was why they couldn’t have nice things

“You should have said something”

“They’ll be fine. Quit making a fuss. I just need something to eat and it’ll be all good”

“Did you...?”

Lance rolled his eyes at Shiro. He wasn’t stupid enough not to be prepared. All his clothes were in Keith’s bag, while Lance’s bag had his injections, shake mix, blood, and stash of chocolate... and Keith’s things like spare batteries

“Yeah. I do know how to go camping. You’re acting like you’ve never seen a vampire camp before, besides, I don’t think this even counts as camping seeing we’re staying in cabins”

“Alright, I guess you’ve got it sorted then. I’ll leave you too it”

    Great. Now he’d driven off Shiro... and now he was getting teary about driving Shiro off...

    From the kitchen Rieva called out

“We’re going to figure out where we’re all sleeping. We’ll come back soon!”

Pidge came running back from down the hall, Lance envious of her energy, as she bounded over to the kitchen bench and slammed her hands down on the counter. He wasn’t quite who she was talking to, but she seemed pretty happy with whatever she’d discovered

“We’re in here. There’s like sooo much space in here. Shay, come check this out!”

Shay had been happily passing things to Hunk over the kitchen bench, Hunk leaning over to kiss her before she left to be towed around by Pidge. Matt and Rieva giving them a small wave before they were off too. Oh to be young again. Wriggling his toes at Keith, Keith snorted at him

“What do you want now?”

“Nothing. I think I’m healing already”

“You really should rinse them”

“And give up this recliner? I think not”

“Am I going to have to fight the recliner for your attention this weekend?”

“Yep”

    “You two haven’t forgotten we’re still here, have you?”

Lance poked his tongue out at Curtis, who was acting under Hunk’s supervision to unpack into the pantry

“Nope. Keith’s going to do the fire. You and Shiro should probably figure out what’s going on with the power tonight”

“Or you and Keith could”

Hunk was a traitor... then again, he had Curtis put to work already

“But Keith just took my boots off”

“And you can put them back on”

Lance let out a whine. His ego was such a fragile bastard. He still couldn’t quite look at Shiro, even though Shiro seemed happy enough

“Shiro and I can go... Babe, make sure you have something to eat while we’re gone”

“Okay...”

Now he didn’t want Keith to leave... ugh. All this anxiety from Keith being worried about him... he didn’t want it

“I love you. I’ll do the fire when we get back, then we can start making plans for dinner”

“No need! I organised things last night. It’s heat and eat tonight”

That was why Hunk was the best person ever to camp with. Standing up, Keith placed both hands on the arms of the recliner before kissing him softly

“Eat and get some rest. I’ll be back soon”

Lance pressed two small kisses to his boyfriend’s lips in return

“I will. Can you... I didn’t mean to upset Shiro”

“He’s fine. I’ll talk to him”

“You shouldn’t have to”

Keith kissed him, probably to shut him up as the kiss was long and deep. Lance saddened as soon as it was over

“It’s fine. I love you, babe”

“I love you, too”

        *

Keith felt alive from the hike. It’d been too long. The only thing he didn’t like was that Lance had blisters, he forced to tell himself sternly that Lance would heal with blood and he’d made a fuss over nothing. A few metres from the cabins was a small shed with instructions over the generator and how the battery system worked. Following the instructions failed to bring doom upon them, Keith bumping Shiro’s shoulder on the way back, his brother kind of quiet

“What’s up?”

“Oh, what? Nothing... just thinking this place is nice. Lance did a good job with the booking”

“He did... He said he’s okay...”

“Yeah. Curtis has noticed something’s up and it’s hard not telling him”

So that was what it was

“I nearly told Hunk today...”

“Yeah?”

“Pidge made a dumb joke without meaning anything by it. He said I looked like I was going to kill him”

    Shiro snorted as he wrapped his arm around Keith’s shoulder. Keith wondering if it’d snow with the sudden chill setting in on the air, drawn back to reality by his brother’s reply

“We both know you wouldn’t”

“I know... I know you want to tell him...”

“You decided to them after the next scan...”

“Doesn’t make it any easier. Lance really likes Curtis, I think he wants to tell him”

“I think he’d kill us if we all started fussing over him”

Yeah. He was stubborn like that... but Keith kind of felt he needed to worry and fuss when Lance had rubbed both little toes raw. Then again, Shiro was off with the fairies, and he had to wonder if his brother regretted coming

“Probably. But are you okay?”

“Yeah, kiddo. How can I not be?”

“Because we’re on holiday with a vampire, two werewolves, a half cursed man, and three other humans?”

Shiro chuckled at him, hand coming up to ruffle his hair

“Don’t forget Kosmo”

How could he forget his best boy?

“And Kosmo. This place is really nice”

“We’ve only seen the main cabin. I know you and Lance wanted a cabin to yourselves, but are you sure you don’t want to use the main cabin?”

“Nah... it’s safer for you guys...”

“Keith, you’re human too”

    Keith blushed, but if you asked him his cheeks were red thanks to the cold, and not thanks to the plans he had later

“I know, but... uh, Lance and I want to maybe try being intimate again. We haven’t done anything since the accident... well, we did in the...”

In the shower and it’d been... fuck... Lance had been very pent up, his hips bucking against Keith’s as they made out clumsily thanks to a lack of coffee and a triple shot of morning wood

“I don’t think I want you to finish that... I was thinking with how easily he gets cold”

“We’ll work something out. If it’s too cold we’ll crash in the living room in front of the fire or something. What about you and Curtis?”

“Did you just ask me if Curtis and I were going to have sex?”

Keith groaned

“Not on purpose. I mean... like... are you happy you’re here with him?”

“Yeah, kiddo... and yep. We can’t let you and Lance have all fun”

“Come on, Lance and I are tame compared to Rieva and Matt”

“Don’t remind me. They’re going to be all over each other come spring”

“Maybe we’ll be welcoming a new Holt soon?”

“I think Rieva’s got a thing or three to say about that”

“Probably... I bet Lance has already fallen asleep”

“He seemed pretty tired”

“I think he is, he won’t agree”

“Did he nap on the way here?”

“Nah. He pretended to, but his breathing didn’t even out and he wasn’t snoring”

“You know you’re allowed to relax right? That you don’t have to focus on him alone”

“I’m going to relax... now that we’re here I feel more relaxed because I know he can make the walk back down”

“He really isn’t a hiker”

“If you ask him, I think he’d be all like “keep your vampire nice and warm and indoors””

“He doesn’t do well in the cold”

“Try sleeping next to him. It’s like cuddling ice”

Shiro bumped him with his hip, teasing him gently

“You love it”

“Yeah... I do. This weekend is going to be awesome”

“It sure will. It sure will”

[remedialpotions]

For Ron/Hermione prompt: #8 apricity - the warmth of the sun in the winter, maybe about them having a lazy day at home together. (I love the way you write Ron/Hermione!)

Thank you so much! I... went a different direction with this, hope that’s okay 💕

***

apricity - the warmth of the sun in the winter

Hermione’s boots crunched through the snow, leaving muddy imprints in her wake. She hadn’t a clue where they were on the island of Britain - Ron had decided where to Apparate them all that morning, since she was exhausted from constant decision-making and Harry couldn’t be arsed to care - but wherever they had ended up, the frost was easing somewhat, and little tufts of green grass poked shyly out among the blanket of dingy white coating the forest floor. She suspected that they were inland, because unlike the frigid January night that they had spent up near Aberdeen, there was no icy wind off the coast. The stillness in the air was soothing, like a little glimmer of hope that they might actually end up surviving all of this.

That still seemed quite a lot to hope for; things had been at a standstill for months. They had the sword of Gryffindor, but no Horcruxes to use it on, and no fresh ideas for locating one. Most days, just waking up in the morning was its own little victory.

She unbuttoned her coat. It couldn’t have been more than four or five degrees out, but it was such a marked difference from the frigid subzero temperatures they had endured for months on end that this little hint of warmth felt downright tropical. It was a welcome little reprieve from the unrelenting stress and pain and exhaustion that had defined the past six months.

Scanning the forest before her, she saw nothing but patchy snow and limp, dirty leaves. But Ron had said he was heading this direction to find more firewood as he left the tent, and given the sodden state of things, he would likely have a bit of a search on his hands. Still, he wouldn’t have gone too far: none of them liked straying much from the wards when they didn’t have to.

There came a small cracking sound like the snapping of twigs from somewhere nearby, and she whirled around, left then right, searching for the source with her heart thundering wildly behind her ribs. As much as they were all going stir-crazy in the tent, and as much as they had to be in a particularly remote part of the country - there was no sign of any settlement, Muggle or magical - she still thought it best to remain within the relative safety of the wards. Ron had already been picked up by Snatchers once, and she didn’t quite fancy it happening again to any of them.

Shifting her cargo from her left hand to her right, Hermione pressed on. The trees were thinning now, and the sun now shone boldly through the bare branches. And now, the snapping noise seemed to be coming from ahead of her, and she spotted another set of muddy footprints in the slushy snow, these ones much larger than her own, the strides separating them much longer. Her heart gave a little leap, and she quickened her pace until she reached a small clearing.

Were it not for his bright red hair, he might have blended in entirely, with his olive-green coat and tan trousers. He had crouched down beside one of the trees and, as Hermione grew closer, she saw that he was using his wand to fire a jet of hot air at a small stack of branches.

“Ron?” Hermione called, just loudly enough to be heard.

He jumped up, eyes wide, and then relaxed, a smile stretching over his face at the sight of her. He was always so happy to see her, despite the fact that she had spent the evening of his return pummeling him with her fists and slinging insults she had later regretted, despite the fact that she had kept her distance and her guard up in the weeks following. Despite it all, he was still genuinely pleased just to be around her.

“Hey,” he greeted her as she approached. Like her, he had also left his jacket open. “So you’ve left Harry unsupervised?”

“I think he’ll behave himself,” she replied. “He was looking through my Beedle the Bard translations when I left, so he’ll be occupied for a while.”

“Right,” nodded Ron, sobering a bit. “Well, I think I’ve found enough firewood for the night, at least, as long as it’s dry enough - I was trying to dry it off, but I don’t know if it’s working, really.”

“It should do,” said Hermione, “it’s not as cold today. Erm, but…” She cleared her throat, shifting her weight from side to side. “I’ve brought you something.”

She held up the item in her right hand.

“The wireless?” asked Ron, skeptical but plainly trying not to show it.

“It’s what’s on the wireless.” She took a step toward him, close enough that she could see the copper stubble poking through on his chin. As he watched - and it was like his blue eyes, warm and kind as they were, were piercing right through her - she fiddled with the volume knob, which had always been faulty. “I was seeing if I could find Potterwatch - and I was thinking, what if the password is something completely obscure? I know you said it’s usually something relating to the Order, but what if they’ve changed that bit of it, to make it harder to find-“

“So what’s on the wireless?” Ron chuckled as Hermione swatted him on the arm in affected annoyance.

“I’m not even sure if you deserve it anymore,” she sniffed, but at the look on his face - that one of guilt and shame and self-loathing, because he seemed lately to think that he was defined by one mistake that he had made - she gave him a friendly nudge and pressed on. “But anyway, I think I found something you’ll like.”

She turned the volume knob again, and the connection had gone a bit fuzzy, but the sounds of commentators and supporters in a stadium was unmistakable.

“Gorgovitch takes possession of the Quaffle again,” came an excited voice, “passes to Wemberly - oh! What a shame, that’s the third drop for the Cannons already today…”

Ron’s mouth hung open. “Quidditch,” he breathed, relishing the word. “Merlin… I haven’t even thought about Quidditch in ages.”

“And Tutshill are now leading Chudley ninety to twenty as the Cannons call for another time-out. That’s their last one allotted for this match, I do hope they’re using them wisely…”

“I just thought you might want to listen,” said Hermione, unsuccessfully biting back laughter at the dismayed look on Ron’s face. “Was I wrong?”

“No, not at all,” he said fervently. “But if this is the Tornadoes match, then that means - it must be my birthday.”

He let out a sheepish little laugh, face pinkening at the preposterousness of having only just realized it.

“First of March, last I checked.”

“I haven’t really kept track of the days, but I coulda sworn it was still February.” He shook his head in amazement. “Thank you for bringing this to me. I mean, they’re gonna lose, but still. Best birthday gift ever.”

There was an intensity in his eyes that she had only seen a few times before - dancing at Bill and Fleur’s wedding, or that time at Grimmauld Place when he had offered to teach her his family tree - and for one wild second she thought about just doing it, rising on tiptoe and tugging his face down to hers and kissing him, kissing him and never stopping.

“Happy eighteenth, then,” she settled on saying, hating how inadequate it sounded.

“Thanks. Erm, would you…” Ron’s face was still flushing red. “I know we probably should check on Harry soon, but would you maybe want to listen to it with me? Just for a minute or two.”

“Of course.”

“Brilliant.” Ron shrugged out of his jacket and laid it out on the ground before gesturing grandly to it. “Have a seat, then.”

Already, mud and half-melted snow were soaking into the fabric. “Really?”

“Yeah, I’ll just clean it later, it doesn’t matter. Might not even really need it anymore, it’s getting warm out.” Ron dropped down onto the jacket and patted the space next to him. “Sit.”

She did, more eagerly than she was ready to let on, setting the wireless on one of the sleeves.

“It’s Flores with the Quaffle now,” came the rapid, excited voice of the commentator, only the faintest crackling of static behind it, “heading toward the goal - and he scores! Chudley now trail Tutshill thirty to ninety.”

“Maybe they can turn it around,” said Hermione, watching in amusement as Ron raised a fist in triumph.

“Yeah,” said Ron with a little smile. “Maybe.”

***

[kiraziwrites]

Ugh, you guys, it has been A Day. I got home at one in the morning, because I left the office at five before midnight (this is NOT usual for me) and of course the fucking train was running local by then, and the streets were a slushy snowy windy mess, and possibly the only reason I didn’t stay in a foul mood the whole way home was the delightful preview I got of @firesign23‘s advent romcom fic.

And after that cheered me up, I spent the rest of my very late and slow commute finishing this moody bit of nonsense that I started writing over the weekend when I was supposed to be untangling my uncooperative WIP chapter. See under the cut for eight hundred and fifty words of extremely self-indulgent tropetastic post-nightmare h/c in Winterfell. I am very tired and can’t edit for shit right now, so apologies for any typos. Did I mention this was self-indulgent and tropey af? Anyway, if that’s also your jam, enjoy.

dreamed of you

It’s the fourth, maybe fifth night he’s spent in her bed that Jaime finds himself waking abruptly, scanning the dim chamber with a soldier’s instinct for something wrong. But there are no dark forms lurking in the shadows, no figure slipping through the door—there’s just the harsh, ragged sound of Brienne’s breathing, giving way to a low, desperate moan. She’s still asleep, but her back and shoulders are rigid, locked with tension, and in the faint glow of the embers he can see her eyes darting rapidly under the closed lids—and he realizes that it’s there, the wrong thing, it’s whatever she’s seeing in her mind’s eye. So he reaches for her arm, to shake her awake—and a heartbeat later he’s flung on his back, pinned and choking, a muscled forearm over his throat and her other hand holding his good arm fast to the bed.

“Brienne,” he croaks, gasping for air, “Brienne, wake up,” and it takes another two heartbeats, or three—his pulse loud and sluggish in his ears—before her eyes begin to focus, her gaze stumbling back from whatever she was seeing to the present, the room, to him. And then her face floods with realization, and heat, and she makes an awful little sound—she lurches off him, as quickly as she’d pinned him down, and hurls herself away, to the far end the bed, curling in on herself, hands coming up to cover her face.

“Brienne,” he breathes, again, once he’s dragged air enough back into his lungs. He levers himself up, feeling the searing imprint of her grip as if it’s been branded on his skin—he’ll have bruises, he thinks, in the morning, and a shocking jolt of desire goes through him at the thought. But it dissipates just as quickly at the sight of her, huddled in a miserable lump, out of reach.

“Are you,” he says, and stops, because she’s obviously not all right, and he has no idea what the fuck to do about that, and he’s not sure if he should touch her, not until he understands what’s wrong. She’s not used to sharing a bed, he knows—of course, neither is he, not like this, night after night in a row.

“Don’t worry,” he says, after a moment more. “You didn’t hurt me,” he tells her, trying to sound steady and reassuring, even though what he’s actually thinking is you did, a little, but I liked it.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, sounding small and humiliated, and oh, he can’t have that, so he makes himself chuckle and say, “My fault entirely, Ser. I ought to know better by now than to startle a knight awake like that.”

She uncurls a little, the tension in her easing just a fraction, but she still won’t look at him, and she’s trembling a little, from the battle-ready tension burning off, or she’s shivering—she’s bare, they both are, all the covers knocked aside in the tussle. So he reaches for the furs and leans over just far enough to draw them back over her, up her gooseflesh arms, moving slowly so as not to startle her again. She doesn’t say anything, but she doesn’t shy away, so he keeps his hand there, waiting, feeling the skitter of her pulse at the juncture where her throat and shoulder meet.

She takes a deep breath, and then another, and he recognizes it clearly enough, the way she’s pulling herself back together.

“Wights, or dragons?” he asks, light and conversational, as if he’s inquiring about how she prefers her tea. “It’s usually fire, for me, although not always from a dragon.” He doesn’t elaborate; she knows enough of his past to fill in the rest, and he’s not going to mention the other things he dreams about: the children, everyone he’s loved and lost, all the possible fates of the few left to him now.

“Neither,” she says, quietly. There’s a pause, and then: “Locke’s gang,” she tells him, like she’s admitting to something, and amid a prickle of surprise and discomfort, he realizes she is. Oh, she’s bold enough facing down an icy death with a sword in hand, his lady knight, but she hates to reveal any weakness. He thinks of her baring her teeth at the bear, bloody and defiant and unwilling to show her tormentors any shred of fear. He draws his hand across her collarbone, then, gentle, until his thumb can reach the scars on her shoulder, caress the faint white lines.

“It’s strange,” he says, “that I’ve never dreamed about them taking my hand. The memory is vivid enough when I’m awake, but it doesn’t haunt me in my sleep.” He pauses, watching her. “But I’ve dreamed about—that I didn’t make it back to Harrenhal in time.”

Brienne’s eyes are wide and dark, deep shadowed pools drawing him in. She doesn’t say anything, just looks at him, steady, for a long moment, and then she shuffles closer, until their heads are sharing the pillow, and he loops his arm around her back and draws her close, holding her warm against his chest, waiting for sleep to come claim them once more.

[the-one-eighteen]

We’re Not Missing Anything

(read on ao3)

(taken from a prompt on the buddie discord)

Bobby couldn’t remember the last time that they’d really managed to get everyone in the same general vicinity somewhere outside of the station house. And, as he watched the group ebb and flow as people split off and rejoined among the twisting pavement between the enclosures, he couldn’t help but feel maybe they should try a little harder to fix that.

He didn’t know who had first suggested the day out. He was thinking maybe Eddie - but, then, if that was his first option, it was just as likely Buck. And if it had been the two of them, the original suggestion had probably come from Chris.

But, honestly, for all he knew, it had come from Denny. Or Michael. Or Chimney.

What he did know, was that everyone had jumped on the suggestion with a speed that had left him a little confused, and before he really knew what was happening, Hen was suggesting it to Athena and Athena was saying it was a wonderful idea, and he was left trying to juggle shift schedules to get them all a block of time off at the same time.

It had taken a couple bribes and promises of covered shifts to get it, but by Saturday, everyone had the morning and most of the afternoon off, and even though he, Buck and Hen would have to be at the station house by six to work an overnight, everyone’s infectious joy was kind of hard to say no too.

So, here they were, on a bright, warm Saturday, running around the LA Zoo. He didn’t know who it was harder to keep track of - the kids, or the supposed adults.

Harry and Denny seemed pretty content to stick to Hen and Karen, occasionally dragging May or Michael off to see some hidden corner. Athena would sometimes grab Hen and the two would take up a bench for a handful of minutes while the kids continued running around in their line of sight. Maddie and Chimney had a bad habit of disappearing around a bend, only to come running to catch up with the main group maybe fifteen minutes later. Eddie, Buck and Chris were doing a pretty good job of sticking together - though that didn’t surprise Bobby much. Chris was ecstatic, perched up on Buck’s shoulders as he was, and Eddie looked as bright as Bobby had ever seen him, everytime both of them lit up over a new animal.

Bobby was exhausted, just trying to keep a rough eye on everyone. And he was so, so happy.

The sun was shining, the kids were laughing, his team was healthy, whole, and happy, and he couldn’t think of one goddamn thing better than this moment.

---

It took another couple of hours before everyone was actually prepared to admit that they needed an actual break - something to drink, something to eat, and to sit for longer than a minute at a time. They’d made the executive decision to take over a corner of the food plaza, the kids all whining about how they weren’t tired yet, could they go look by themselves, they’d be right back, please?

Up until they saw the dippin’ dots cart anyway. The promise of that got them to sit still long enough to get some actual calories in them.

Hen, Athena and Karen had taken over a table to themselves, laughing loud and bright at whatever they were talking about.

Maddie and Chimney...had vanished again. Bobby didn’t know if it had been before or after they’d decided to go get food, but he was kind of hoping they’d show up again before the kids managed to goad them all into leaving again.

Michael was...trying to carry Harry, Denny, May’s and his own food to the table pushed up next to Bobby’s to make one large enough for the eight of them, where the kids were still sitting patiently but entirely unhelpfully. Bobby winced slightly as the small tower in his hands wobbled, but Michael made it without losing anything, thankfully, dropping down next to Bobby after passing everything out.

Eddie had dropped down on Bobby’s other side while Buck and Chris went to get food for the three of them, looking as worn out and happy as Bobby felt.

“As fun as this is, I am tired.” Eddie mumbled from where he’d dropped his head into his arms, and both Bobby and Michael just laughed at him, Bobby reaching over to clap his shoulder. “Come on now, nine adults, four kids...it isn’t all that bad.”

Eddie held up his hand, “Seven adults. Or have you seen Chim and Maddie anywhere in the last hour?” he grumbled, still muffled.

Had it really been that long? Huh. Maybe they’d lost them by the reptiles…

“Still, almost two to one.” Bobby said with a shrug, while Michael just snorted.

“We almost have a fighting chance.” Michael said, laughing at the pained look Eddie lifts his head just enough to shoot him.

“Yo, Pops, Eddie! We’re getting slushies, want one?” Buck calls over, and Eddie’s head shoots around, and Bobby swears he hears his neck crack.

“No, absolutely not - get back here, that’s way too much sug- get back here!” Eddie yells around a laugh he can’t hide, taking after Buck as the kid bolts towards the slushie cart, holding an absolutely delighted Chris tight so he doesn’t fall off in his dash. Chris has a hold on Buck’s hair, and his laughter can be heard, Bobby’s sure, across the park.

Bobby knows his smile is goofy. Doesn’t really care enough to try and hide it.

“Oh that is just adorable. It’s always fun to bring the whole family out isn’t it?” Bobby startles slightly, taking a moment to register that the question is indeed directed at him, and another to locate who had asked - a kindly looking woman, sitting at the table behind him. She looks maybe in her early sixties, her steel grey hair pulled into a frizzy bun, and big leopard print glasses perched at the end of her nose. “How old’s your grandson?”

And Bobby hears Michael choke on a laugh behind him, but all Bobby can do is just try for an awkward smile, “Oh uh- he’s no- we’re n…” He sighs, and the smile turns more genuine, “Just turned eight.” And the woman almost downright coos.

“They’re so sweet dear.” She glances around for a moment, before waving her hand off towards the hotdog booth, and Eddie glances that way - easily picking out who she must be trying to show him. A lovely young woman with a young boy on her hip, standing beside another woman, who looks like she could just about implode, her smile’s so big. The toddler’s giggling and both women are laughing, and Bobby can’t help but smile as he turns back to the woman, “My girls. First outing as a family, the lot of us. Makes me wish we all had a bit more time, you know?”

And Bobby catches sight of Buck and Eddie and Chris - Eddie caving and paying for three slushies apparently, as Buck leans in to press a kiss to his cheek - and Athena, Hen and Karen laughing loudly from their table, and he can hear Denny and Harry and May all chattering behind him, can hear Michael trying to ask questions here and there to try to keep up. Can even see Maddie and Chim coming up the path, finally rejoining them, and looking as wrapped up in each other as they ever were, and Bobby...Bobby just smiles even bigger, “I know the feeling ma’am.”

“Oh, none of that, now dea-”

“Grammie!” A shrill, excited shriek breaks through the crowd and both Bobby and the woman look over to the couple Bobby had seen before. The little boy is reaching towards them like he could bring her over with just his will - and, as the woman immediately gets up, he probably could - and the two women are laughing and waving.

“Well, that’s my cue. Enjoy your family day dear.” And off she totters, easily swinging the boy into her arms as soon as he’s within reach, leaving Bobby’s quiet, but genuine, “You too,” behind in her rush to get to her family.

And Bobby’s left there, looking at his family, at each and every part of it, and feeling so bright, and so light and-

“So, you wanna congratulate Athena?” Michael asks, in that nonchalant way he has that immediately has all of Bobby’s attention.

“...Congratulate her? On what?” Sure, he could think of a couple reasons, always, but still. The comment seemed out of the blue.

“On being a grandmother.” And Michael can’t stop the laugh that stutters the end of that, even as Bobby feels his sense of self-preservation wince.

Before he can open his mouth though, he hears his favorite person in the world right behind him, “Who’s a grandmother?”

And he’s going to wipe that shit-eating grin off Michael’s face as soon as he gets a chance, but all he can do right now is plaster on a grin and spin around to face his wife. “I have no idea what he’s talking about.”

And Athena’s eyes are bright, dancing with laughter, even as she holds a straight face, and Bobby knows she heard every bit of that. Bobby just groans and drops his head in his hands, having to fight back a smile even as Athena laughs at him, coming close enough to wrap an arm around his shoulders.

“Hey, what’d we miss?” Buck asks as him and Eddie slip back over, Chris having been transferred over to Eddie’s shoulders at some point so Buck could try to carry all three slushies. Karen and Hen have relocated over to their table too, now grilling an embarrassed Chim and Maddie where they had sat down at the end of their table.

And Bobby looks over the lot of them for a long moment, at the wild, loud, beautiful mess of a family they’ve got. “You didn’t miss a thing.”

[rogermeddowsx]

office parties suck - part 2

word count : 1.9k 

contains : slightly bad language - barely - and mentions of smoking / drinking 

author’s note : heyyy, i’m back haha. this part was a lotttt shorter than the last one sorry about that. i’ve been getting back into the swing of working and trying to balance writing this and doing work is proving to be quite a stress haha!! i have loooooads of ideas though for this fic :)) hope you like this part Xx

“Please tell me you at least kissed.” Miles quizzed you pleadingly.

It was early. The sun hadn’t yet risen, making the outside world dark and dreary. You’d woken up almost an hour ago, had a shower and were now eating your breakfast, leaving a sleeping Ben in your bed. Miles was digging for details, which he did every time you had a man stay over.

“We didn’t even exchange a hug before bed, Milesy.” You gripped your steaming mug of coffee in one hand and held a piece of toast in the other. You squealed as a mixture of hot honey and butter ran down the side of your hand. Miles laughed loudly as you ran your tongue along your wrist, spilling your coffee at the same time.

Groaning loudly, you placed your breakfast down and stood up.

“Great, now I have to change my top.”

“Make sure you wake up sleeping beauty while you’re up there.” Miles said with a wink as you made your way up the stairs. You stuck your tongue out at him jokingly.

Your bedroom door creaked open, a slither of light from the hall gradually getting bigger as the door opened wider. The blonde stranger lay sleeping in your bed, his hair fluttering with each breath he exhaled. You pulled off the coffee stained shirt and tugged on a clean one. Ben snorted in his sleep, then turned in your bed. He was still wearing his jeans and his shirt from last night was lying on the floor.

You hadn't noticed that had come off.

Although now you had noticed, you couldn't stop looking.

Oh, stop drooling.

You knelt beside the bed and placed your hand on his arm gently, blushing as your warm skin met his, and shook him.

"Ben, uh, I need to leave for work. Wanna walk with me?"

As his eyes opened groggily, he groaned, “What time is it?”

Reaching over you turned on your bedside lamp, instantly regretting not giving Ben any warning as he squinted due to the harsh light.

You giggled, “Sorry.”

He rubbed his eyes sleepily.

Jesus, he’s cute.

“It’s 7.30 by the way. I have to leave at 8.”

“Thanks.” He said. He slid out of your floral-patterned duvet, muscles flexing as he did so. You cleared your throat and stood.

“There’s a new towel in the bathroom for a shower, it’s the room next to this one.”

He smiled and thanked you, then walked out of your room. You wiped the imaginary bead of sweat from your forehead. You heard the bathroom door click shut, then the sound of the shower being turned on. Your head turned at a knock at your bedroom door.

“You’re telling me that you slept next to that,” Miles appeared at your bedroom door and gestured towards the bathroom. “And you kept completely to yourself?”

He scoffed jokingly, “Yeah, right.”

You laughed as he tried to dodge the pillow thrown in his direction.

“Screw you Miles, I have a speck of self-control.”

Miles looked at you with one eyebrow raised quizzically, then roared with laughter. The sound of him snorting broke the self-control you'd been so keen to defend, and you crumpled in a fit of giggles.

***

“If it weren’t for the fact that you told me he was your roommate, I’d be confident in saying that Miles was your boyfriend.”

You looked up at Ben with your eyebrows furrowed. You cocked your head at him in question.

“I heard you two this morning.”

You blushed furiously. Or was it the cold?

He heard you talking about your self-control (or lack of) around him??

“Well, laughing.” He said.

You exhaled. You didn’t even know you were holding in a breath. You stuffed your hands into your coat pockets. It was still snowing, unusual for London, and it made your road look so magical. Winter was your favourite season. Christmas, snow, watching movies with Miles and Grace, using your fireplace as much as you can because there was no excuse to use it in the warmer months. You loved it.

One thing you didn’t like though, was that you were always, always ill. Your immune system was terrible, and you could never catch a break. In the summer it was your hayfever and in the winter, it was colds and fevers.

“So what do you do now? In your office?” Ben asked.

You scuffed your feet along the stone pavement covered in a thin coat of snow. As you both reached the main road, the snow became grey and slushy. Ahead of you was the underground train station.

“Just read through contracts and stuff. S’not very interesting.”

He laughed. And what a godly sound it was. It made you smile despite the topic of conversation, which usually made you close off.

“Sounds absolutely riveting. Give me your number and you can call me when you’ve finished to tell me all about those contracts and stuff.”

“Ben Hardy, that was a really crap way of trying to get my number. Although talking about contracts does sound tempting.”

This only made him laugh more. He took out his phone then extended it out to you. On the screen was a blank contact profile, which you filled in with your number and name.

“Wait, it needs a contact photo,” he said when you handed it back to him. “How will I remember what you look like?”

You shoved his arm playfully.

“Hand it back then.” You took the phone, readjusted your black beanie and stuffed one glove in your pocket. Instantly, the tips of your fingers went red. You thread your arm around Ben’s, pulled him in closer to you, then held the phone in front of you.

“Smile.” You said with a cheeky grin.

“I’ll take that. Thanks.” Ben said as he took the phone from you.

“I’m gonna take a taxi home, you cool getting the train?”

You nodded as you tugged your glove back on. You leant up to him and pulled him into a hug. His hand found the middle of your back as your arms wrapped around his neck. Your grip loosened and you pulled back slightly to kiss him on the cheek. You lingered slightly, taking in the smell of Miles’ aftershave which Ben had clearly found in the bathroom, then you drew back completely.

“See ya at the wedding.” You said.

“Later.”

***

The sound of your phone dinging brought you out of your trance. Your eyes hazed over the contract in front of you.

Unknown Number : Photo

You thanked the unknown messenger for the distraction as you opened the text. The photo was of you and Ben. Your eyes were crinkled, the corners of your mouth upturned; a true smile. Behind you, the snow was falling gently, and people flooded into the station. But it wasn’t the snow you were focused on, or the way you smiled directly into the camera. It was Ben. The way he looked down at you, his dimples deeply engraved and his smile flashing a perfectly aligned set of teeth. The hair escaping your beanie, tickled his nose, making it scrunch up slightly. His eyes were bright.

You saved his contact and texted him back.

You: Cute picture. :p

Ben: That’s all you ;)

You blushed furiously, and quickly hid your cheeks with your hands to stop your colleagues from questioning anything. Your phone turned off with a click and you placed it back into your pocket. It buzzed again.

Milesy ❤️ ️: What are u doing later?? x

You: Got that dumb party :/ Xx

Milesy ❤️ ️: Will u be back late? x

You: Depends how quickly I can get away without my boss noticing Xx

Milesy ❤️ ️: Text when u leave and ill meet u. dont want u walking back alone. x

You turned your phone over so that it was face down and looked back to the contract in front of you. Sighing loudly, you continued to type boring terms and conditions, dreading that evening. For some reason though, not everything felt bad. You weren't sure why but you were determined to find out.

***

It was heaving. Sweaty bodies brushed past one another as you stood in the corner of the Groucho, London. One of the most exclusive clubs in town and here you were, wishing you were at home and curled up in bed. You pushed your way through the sea of people towards the door, ignoring the way the music moved people like puppets on strings.

You loved parties, you drank and danced - never smoked - and always had a good time. But that was with friends. Sure, you talked to your colleagues but the friendships never extended outside of work.

As you reached the door, you pulled your cardigan closer to your body. Cold air punched you in the face as you opened the door. The area was small, a few garden chairs and plants littered around. Above a green and white striped sofa was a pink neon sign; “Fucking beautiful,” it read. There was one man sitting at a table facing away from you. His collar was pulled up and a cigarette sat loosely between his fingers. He didn’t flinch as the door slammed behind you. You sat in the corner and pulled out your phone.

You : i’m @ that party and holy lord i’m bored

The reply was almost instant.

Ben : hey, texting me just because you’re bored? should i be offended 🤔 haha x

Your nails clicked upon your screen as your typed your reply and laughed.

You : not quite haha.

You : just wanted to talk i guess 🤷

Ben : well that’s ok :) x

Ben : are you being antisocial and texting me in the middle of the party?? x

You : No, I came outside to a smoking area *vomits*

You : It’s pretty though.

You held up your phone camera and snapped a picture. Only half your face was in it, illuminated by the neon pink glow coming from behind you. Your eye wrinkled as you smiled. You sent the picture with the caption; “Actually I’d say it’s fucking beautiful.”

You patted yourself on the back, proud of the joke. The man in front of you put out his cigarette. He turned around to look at you.

“Ben?”

It had barely been 12 hours and you found that you’d missed the chuckle that came from his lips.

“Heyyy.” He walked over to your bench and sat next to you. As you leaned into his arms he was holding out, you caught a whiff of his cologne. You inhaled.

God, he smells nice.

You returned the hug and pulled away.

“What are you doing here?” You asked him.

“Came here for a meeting. I know, I know, it seems like a weird place for a meeting” He said in response to the questioning look on your face.

“No, I used to come here for meetings when I was signed to a label. What do you do?” You asked.

He held out his glass to you. You smiled gratefully and took a sip.

“I’m an actor. My manager was in town this evening and thought it would be good to catch up.”

You gasped at him, almost choking on the drink.

An actor?????

“What would I have seen you in?” You asked, giving his glass back to him.

“Eastenders probably. Apart from that I’ve only really played small parts.”

“I haven’t really watched Eastenders. It’s never really been my thing.” You admitted. “Cool that you’re in it though!”

His shoulders shook as he laughed deeply.

“Come inside, let’s go get another drink.” He suggested, as he took you by the hand and pulled you back inside.

And for the second night in a row, you found yourself drunk and going home with Ben Hardy.

[avengerscompound]

Giddy

I Think She Likes You:  A Black Widow Fanfic

Series Masterlist (and to see what’s going on with Bucky and Steve) Previous //

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing:  Natasha Romanoff x F!Reader

Word Count:  3234

Warnings:  Very fluffy, brief mentions of past rape and trauma, smut (F|F thigh riding, oral sex)

Synopsis:  You and Natasha start dating and you are both completely head over heels giddy.

Giddy

She showed up at your place at exactly 12.30.  You’ve dressed in a grey wool dress with flowers embroidered on the skirt.  You were lacing up your knee-high boots when she knocks.  You hop to the door and she stands there, with her adorable crooked smile.  Her lips painted a dark red that highlights the color of her hair.  She’s wearing jeans and a red shirt both of which hug her figure.  A long black coat over the top.

“Hey,”  She says.  “You ready?”

“Just gotta do my boot up.”  You say.  “You look really nice.”

She laughs and it makes your heart skip a beat.  Damn it.  You have it really bad.  

“I’m wearing jeans.  You’re the one that dressed up.”  She teases.

You finish lacing your boot, gazing up at her.  “Well, you still look good in them. And don’t even pretend you don’t know it.”

Natasha laughs again.  “No, I know.  You look really great too.”

You get up and wrap a pale blue blue scarf around your neck, pull on a black wool coat that reaches past your knees and grab your handbag.  Natasha offers you her hand and you link your fingers with hers.  It feels both natural and incredibly exciting.

You walk together to the subway having no idea where she’s actually taking you.  When you board the V train you find some seats next to each other and you sit linking hands and when you talk you lean right into each other.  So close at some points that if you just dipped your head forward a little you’d be kissing.  The self-control it takes for you not to just do that.  You keep thinking about what she must taste like.  How soft her mouth must be.

“Can I ask you something?”  Natasha says after a brief moment of silence between the two of you.

“Of course.”  You smile.

“If Bucky had asked you out, would you have said yes?”  She asks.

You feel yourself blush and look down.  “I mean, I might have.   He was nice, but he wasn’t the one I was flirting with.”

Natasha smiles and pushes her hair behind her ear.

A guy starts lurching down the train in your direction.  Obviously already drunk, even though it’s not even midday.  “You girls wanna come back to my place?  I think you both could use a good thick dick.  Show you what you’re missing out on.”

Both you and Natasha turn your heads to face him.  You squirm uncomfortably in your seat and hope he moves on.  Natasha however stands and moves closer to him.  She moves, swaying her hips and making herself seem tiny.  “Oh, baby.  Really?”  She walks her fingers up his chest.  “That’s the offer me and my girlfriend have been waiting for.  You can watch us first of course.”

The guy leans in towards her and she grabs him by the back of the head and slams him into the pole standing in the middle of the row of seats.  He staggers back clutching his head.

“Learn some fucking manners.”  Natasha snaps.

The guy comes for her and she steps out of the way, then using his momentum throws him on his face on the ground.  A few of the other passengers in the carriage actually cheer her and you can clearly hear someone whisper ‘that’s Black Widow’ to the person sitting next to them.

Natasha sits back down next to you and you stare at her mouth open.

“Oh shit.  I’ve scared you haven’t I?”  She says, leaning back against the train window.

You take her hand in yours again.  “Uh, no.  The opposite is true.  I really, really want to kiss you right now.  It’s too soon though right? We haven’t even started the date part of the date.”

Natasha smiles and her eyes light up.  “I don’t think there are rules about when you’re allowed to have your first kiss.”  She leans in towards you and your lips are about to meet when the train starts to shudder to a halt and the driver announces that you’ve arrived at Rockefeller Center.  Natasha helps and drags you to your feet.  “This is our stop.  Come on.”

She drags you out of the train at a run and you step onto the platform laughing.  You both know the moment has passed, so you just continue walking out of the subway hand-in-hand.

“Where are we going?”  You ask, looking up at the buildings looming down over you.  The streets are covered in that slushy snow that’s slippery and difficult to walk on.  You and Natasha lean on each other a little to keep yourselves from falling on your butts.  Or more accurately you lean on her to stop yourself from falling on your butt and she pretends that it’s a mutual arrangement.

“There’s a place up here that does sandwiches and soups, but more importantly pastries as far as the eye can see.  I thought we could go there and then ice skating.”  Natasha says.  “Can you ice skate?”

“Yes.  Not well though.  I mostly don’t fall down.”  You look at her and scrunch your nose.  “You’re going to be good at it aren’t you?”

“I’m Russian.”  Is all the answer you get to that question, so you assume that means yes.

She pulls you into the bakery and you both shrug off your coats and approach the counter.  You each order soup, sandwiches, hot chocolates, and a really decadent dessert and find yourselves a booth to sit in.  You expect that Natasha will sit on the opposite side to you.  Instead, she slides in next to you and presses up against you, holding your hand.

“I feel silly, but I’m really excited that you said yes.  I have that giddy feeling people talk about.  I’m not sure I’ve ever had that before.  Normally when I date someone I pick someone from my group of friends who’s the right amount of damaged for me.”  She says, looking you right in the eye.  She doesn’t seem embarrassed or shy about that admission.  She’s genuinely just thrilled you’re there with her.  Just regular, nothing special, works at a coffee place, you.

“I’m really excited too.”  You reply.  “Does that mean you mostly date superheroes?”

Natasha laughs.  “I have dated one or two superheroes.  Lots of spies.  Mostly spies.”

“Aren’t I a little boring for you?”  You ask, genuinely worried.

Natasha curls a lock of your hair around her finger.  “Not boring.  Normal.  I could use normally.”  She leans close her breath tickling your ear.  “Plus you’re totally adorable.  You know that right?”

You smile at her and blush. “Thank you.”

The food is brought out and you eat and talk.  It’s surprising how easy it is to be around she is, considering she’s an Avenger.  The conversation just rolls from you.  She focuses most of the topics on you and your life and seems genuinely fascinated by your childhood.  When you ask her about her life, why she became a spy, why she doesn’t have a Russian accent she always answers. The answers can be flat out disturbing sometimes.  They’re always obviously painful.  So while you appreciate her honesty, you don’t press because you know some things need to come out in their own time.

After lunch, she takes you ice skating.  Where you’re wobbly and uncoordinated and she is graceful and beautiful.  You want to just sit and watch her, but she won’t let you.  She brought you here to have fun together.  So she drags you around the rink, never letting you fall.  The ice rink is where the first kiss happens.

She’s skating along backward pulling you with her when she bumps into the barrier and you fall right into her arms.  You have a feeling she did it intentionally but it doesn’t matter.  You still laugh, she still holds you and when she brushes your hair back from your face once you’ve steadied yourself, you still feel so warm and happy and you can feel her eyes on your lips, and yours are on hers anyway.  She leans into you and you bridge the distance and it’s just like they say in the movies.  Sparks and fireworks.  She tastes of sugar and ginger and her mouth is so soft but so certain.  Your breath catches and she feels so good and so right.  You let her lead.  It doesn’t even matter if you kissed too early into the first date by the unwritten code book about dating.  You never want to stop kissing her.

You do though.  Breaking apart breathless and laughing.  She looks down and smiles that adorable crooked smile.  When she looks at you again she tucks a stray piece of your hair behind your ear.  “I think I’m going to fall for you really hard.”  She says.

“I think I might already be falling.”  You reply.

The date lasts until late, but you don’t take her inside or go back to her place.  It feels too early and she agrees.   So you date.  Each date is exciting and you feel like you’ve been taken along on one long adventure.   You got to the ‘Brooklyn Flea’ and buy vintage clothes.  She takes you up in the Quinjet and flies you to New Orleans and you explore some graveyards and listen to jazz.  You climb to the top of the Statue of Liberty and by the time you reach the crown you can feel every single one of the 354 steps but it doesn’t matter because you’re with her and she keeps her arm around your waist while you look out over the edge.

Natasha pays for the big things because being an Avenger pays a lot more than being a barista.  Hazard pay and all that.  She lets you pay for the little things because she knows how important it is to feel like you’re contributing and not being bought.  Somehow it works and you feel good and on equal footing, and you really just like her so much it makes your heart flutter.

Sometimes you go back to your place or sometimes you go to the Avengers Tower.  Her friends are so great and so nosey and so happy she is seeing someone.  You see Bucky with his boyfriend and you realize it’s Captain America.  Of course, it is Captain America.  They fit and they are in such deep love that you hope you will have that too, and you can see the possibility with Natasha that maybe she could be a deep love for you too.

But you wait.  You don’t want to rush things.

You do kiss, however.  She’s really good at it and sometimes you go to her room and just make out for hours.  Her hands in your hair and yours clutching at her back.  And you do grind on each other a bit.  Sometimes to the point where you can feel how turned on you each are. It seeps through your clothes. But your hands never stray south, and your mouths stay on each other's mouths or maybe sometimes your necks.

You also talk.  All the time. When you’re not kissing or just watching a movie, you’re talking.  She always answers your questions about her past.  No matter if the answers are scary or disturbing.  Like that time she tells you how they used to have her raped in the Red Room when they were turning her into an assassin and how they made her murder the girl she shared a room with just to teach her to never form bonds with people.  You ask her why she tells you these things because if it was you, you’d never want to talk about them or relive them.  It’s obvious even telling you hurts her to do.  She never became that monster they tried to make her.  Or maybe she did but then something changed.  In any case, she says she tells you because her life is lived in one series of lies.  She has to lie to everyone all the time and she doesn’t want to lie to you.  Not about anything ever.  So even though she has done these horrific things and had horrific things done to her, each new thing that she tells you, no matter how terrifying just makes you love her that little bit more.

Sometimes you think you must be too boring for her, but even though the thought sometimes enters your mind she never actually makes you feel that way.  She is always so excited to see you.  At least as excited as you are. She comes into work to see you every day.  Often with Bucky.  Sometimes Bucky and Steve.  But even though you see her every day and she watches you just make coffee over and over again, she always looks at you like you’re hanging the stars.

The night you visit a speakeasy you decide, if Natasha wants to, this is the night.  You’d dressed up.  She as a mobster and you her moll in a flapper dress and feathered headpiece.  She looks so ridiculously sexy in a pinstripe suit and fedora, her red hair flowing down her back.  Not to mention how much fun you have listening to jazz and pretending you’re in prohibition. You know it’s right.   This is the time.

Natasha seems to be on the same page.  Normally she takes you home after a late night and walks you to the door.  She’s more worried about you getting home safely that she is about herself.  It makes sense.  She can handle herself.  Tonight though, she has other plans.  You step out of the bar and she links her hand with yours.  

“Do you want to go back to the tower?  It’s only a few blocks.”  She asks.

You lean into her and kiss her cheek.  “I really want to go back to the tower.”

You walk slowly, sometimes you get a little worried about men who seem to lurk a little too close, but not really worried because Natasha could easily take care of them.  You’d just prefer it if she didn’t have to regardless of how hot it is when she does.  Luckily you’re only catcalled a couple of times and by men too drunk to actually do any more than that.

On the ride up in the elevator to the living quarters you and Natasha are all over each other.  Normally she’s the more dominant of you, but not this time.  First, it’s her as her hands go to your face and she presses you up against the mirror.  Then it’s you when you push her back and she lifts herself onto the railing and wraps her legs around your waist.  By the time the elevator reaches the floor, your lips are swollen and tingle and so does your pussy.

Bucky and Steve are up.  Watching a black and white movie.  Steve is reclined back on the couch and Bucky is curled up against him, his head resting in the crook of Steve’s arm.  They might be the cutest couple you’ve ever seen.  That is if you hadn’t just seen you and Natasha in the mirror in your matching costumes and your smeared lipstick.

They both look over to you as you enter.  “Evening, ladies.  Having a nice night?”  Bucky asks.

Natasha gives him a playful half smile.  “A very nice night indeed.  And how about you two fine gentlemen?”

“It’s been quite pleasant.  Thank you for asking.”  Bucky replies.

“I’m very pleased to hear it,”  Natasha says. “We shall be retiring for the night.  Don’t stay up too late.”  She takes your hand in hers and Bucky and Steve both chuckle.

“We won’t.  Don’t you do anything I wouldn’t do.”  Bucky adds.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, James.  Wouldn’t dream of it.”

You retreat into Natasha’s room and the passion from the elevator ignites immediately.  You kiss and clutch and claw at each other, shedding your clothes all over her bedroom floor.

You fall onto the bed together, kissing and letting your hands roam over each other's bodies.  The way her hands feel on you and the way she feels under yours is like heaven.  You want to explore every crevice on her body and you want her to explore you.

She rolls on top of you and moves her leg between yours and as you kiss and caress each other you rub your wet, aching cunts against each other's thighs.  Your fluids smearing onto each other's skin.  You moan and so does she.  Your hands travel to each other’s pussies almost as one, your move your fingers in tight circles around her clit, and she scissors yours rolling her thumb over the top of it.  You gasp and your hips grind against each other, increasing the slow build of heat that swirls in your belly.  Your juices mixing together.

Natasha pulls away from you suddenly and pushes you back onto the bed, moving between your legs.  She kisses her way up your thighs, and you prop yourself up on your elbows and watch as she moves her way up your legs.  She spreads your folds and places an open mouth kiss over your labia, lapping her tongue over it and sucking as she pulls away.

She hums and looks up at you, her red lips glistening.  “You taste as good as I thought.”  She hums.

Your breath catches and you clutch at her.  “Nat, can we … at the same time?”

She smiles up at you and shifts around so she’s straddling your face.  You run your tongue once up her slit, letting the salty/sweet flavor of her arousal fill your senses.  She bends over you and you both start to lick and suck at each other.  As she flattens her tongue and laps up your crevice, you focus yours to a point and flick over her clit.  When she pushes her fingers inside you and spreads them creating a pleasant stretched feeling, you curl yours inside her to coax out an orgasm.

She comes first.  It makes you feel a little proud and you continue to lick and stroke her down from her orgasm as she drips over your face.  She jumps off you and moves her body over yours kissing you as you’re both pressed tightly together.  The flavor of her on your lips and the flavor of you on hers blends together.  You both hum as the heady concoction takes over your senses.  Her fingers return to your cunt and she works them within you like a woman on a mission.  Her thumb rolls over your clit as her fingers push into you, curl up and drag down again and again.  Expertly stroking your g-spot until you’re sitting right on the precipice of orgasm.

“Hey beautiful, you’re not going to come for me today?”  Natasha purrs.  She licks at the pulse point just below your ear.

Well, that does it.  You come.  Your core clenches and it shudders through your body.  You lie under her, her breasts pressed against yours.  She kisses you again.  It’s softer and slower and so loving.

“You’ll stay right?”   She asks, and she sounds like she’s worried that you won’t.

You smile at her and tuck a lock of her red hair behind her ear.  “Nat, I think you might be stuck with me.”

[blurglesmurfklaine]

Mixed Signals

Summary: Blaine Anderson is the new transfer at McKinley High. He quickly becomes fast friends with Kurt Hummel—Glee Club diva, straight A student, Cheerio extraordinaire. He plans to win his heart, but there’s just one problem: he can’t make heads or tails of Kurt’s personality, as it seems to change every hour or so...

A/N: So uh, I don’t really know what this is I haven’t written anything in literal years and I just popped this trash baby out so... yeah enjoy

* Blaine follows his new show choir director into the choir room, which he notes is significantly less grandeur than the one at Dalton, but he digressed. McKinley was supposed to be a new start and although leaving Dalton isn’t something he was ever too keen about, he knows he has to try and find the silver lining of it all, at least for his parents’ sakes.

Said silver lining presents itself in the form of a pale skinned, blue eyed boy wearing a cheerleading uniform who caught Blaine’s eye as he took center stage of the room to introduce himself. “Hello everyone,” he waves to the eclectic group of students with one hand and keeps the other safely in his pocket. “I’m Blaine Anderson. I just transferred here from Dalton Academy.”

It seems he has unnamed male Cheerio’s attention, he can practically feel the boy’s gaze quickly traveling up and down his entire body, as if assessing him. “Let’s all give Blaine a warm welcome,” says the teacher—Mr. Shue, he remembered. He gestures to the chairs in front of them as the thirteen other members applauded. “Take a seat wherever you’d like.” It doesn’t m take long for him to make his way towards the empty seat next to Cheerio boy and claim it. It also doesn’t take long for the rest of the New Directions to exchange a multitude of glances that range from surprised to suggestive to sly.

The boy offers Blaine a hand and an almost bashful smile. “My name’s Kurt,” he introduced himself. “Kurt Hummel.” After fifty minutes of solos, rehearsing, and casual chatter, Blaine is definitely intrigued by Kurt, to say the least. He learns that Kurt and Finn are step brothers after the latter had come up to him and asked what they were having for dinner. “Oh, you two are dating?” Blaine had asked, not so smoothly and unable to keep his interest discreet despite his best efforts. This caused the tallest of them all to laugh heartily, throwing his head back. “No, we’re brothers. Kurt’s dad married my mom. I used to be kind of a dick, but our brotherhood kind of changed that. Did you know that grilled cheesus never said anything about gay people—“ Finn goes on for several more minutes about all he’s learned about gay rights in support of his brother, and Kurt watches and listens with equal parts pride and amusement. Not everything he says is entirely accurate, but neither Kurt nor Blaine have the heart to tell him that. Instead, they just exchange bemused glances every time it happens and let the leader of the New Directions continue on, blissfully ignorant. The bell finally dismisses them, and before Blaine leaves, his new friend is practically bouncing over to him. Blaine notes the hopeful look on his face as he gnawed on his bottom lip nervously. “I know this might be a little forward, but,” he reaches out and pulled his arm towards him, rucking up Blaine’s sleeve. He tries to stay calm as he watches the purple pen move furiously, scrawling out seven digits on Blaine’s forearm. “We should hang out.” He can’t keep the smile off his face. “We should.” * The next time Blaine sees Kurt, he’s changed out of his Cheerio’s uniform and opted for a subdued gray tee shirt paired with a blue hoodie. He can’t say he’s not surprised at the disconnect between Kurt’s effervescent personality and muted fashion sense, but he’s excited to share calculus with him nonetheless. He throws his hand up in a friendly wave towards the boy and is slightly confused when he receives nothing more but an angrily puzzled glare in return. Offset, but not entirely discouraged, he sits right behind him. The lesson continues and Blaine is taking immaculate and thorough notes about the square root of negative integers when Kurt bursts out in disbelief. “Woah, woah, there are imaginary numbers now?” He scoffs, and Blaine is startled at how much lower his voice is. “Are there unicorns in the next lesson?” “Mr. Hummel,” the teacher scolds, folding his arms. “Are we going to need another chat with principal Figgins?” “No but we might need one with the people in charge of educating the nation’s youth.” He mutters. Blaine is absolutely floored at the jarring contrast between the Kurt he met two periods ago and the one sitting in front of him right now. Still, he doesn’t want his new friend to get into trouble, so he places a gentle hand on his shoulder, earning a flinch from the other boy. He whips around to face Blaine. “What?” He hisses. “Nothing, I just... don’t want you to get into trouble.” He admits.

He looks at Blaine like he’s never seen him before this moment, absolutely bewildered. “Thanks,” he says, not an ounce of actual gratitude in his voice. “But I can handle myself just fine.” And he turns back around to face the board. Blaine sits there, stirring in his confusion. He hadn’t know Kurt could be so... abrasive. At least, not based on his interactions with him earlier that day. He brushes it off with a shake of his head. Maybe he was just having a bad day. He’s sure it’s a one time thing. * It’s not a one time thing. Blaine slowly realizes over the course of more than a few days, that it’s an actually very regular occurrence. And normally, this would be the sort of thing that makes Blaine run for the hills, but the fifty-percent of the time Kurt is being his normal optimistic self (he quickly thinks, what if he just assumes that’s Kurt’s default personality because it’s the first one he met, but he pushes the thought aside) he is really into him. He hasn’t been this into a guy since... well, ever. He’s seen Kurt stand up to several jerks with comebacks that had the power behind them to instantly disintegrate anyone who dared to try and shoot any homophobia in his direction. He isn’t used to this kind of bravery, mostly because it wasn’t needed at Dalton, but here it definitely is, and Blaine admires courage like that. Kurt was there when he had first gotten slushied, willing and more than prepared with all the needed grooming supplies to help get the sticky sweet ice out of Blaine’s unfortunate hair. They had even sung a few—admittedly flirty—duets for their glee club assignments. That was the Kurt he liked. But he’s also seen Kurt crumple up the cute note he’d left for him on his desk and immediately toss it into the wastebasket. He’s seen him mock fellow Cheerios when he’s not in uniform with “Two, four, six, eight! Heard you like to fornicate!” and a sarcastic grin. But what he can’t fathom is how Kurt from glee club, who never fails to ask “Mr. Shue, may I?” ever so politely, and Kurt from history, who refers to Bill Clinton as “came-a-lot”, are the same person. He’s made serval mental notes to help him unravel the enigma that was Kurt Hummel, dividing the two versions of him into “Glee Kurt” and “Calculus Kurt”. Glee Kurt likes to talk, likes to learn everything he can about Blaine. So he tells him everything from piano lessons at age four, to his annoying older brother Cooper. He also likes little intimate touches—a hand on the thigh after a good joke, the grazing of each other’s hands, leaning into each other’s shoulders. Blaine never complains about this, if anything, he encourages it by reciprocating every sign of interest Kurt shows, especially since they’re gone just as easily as they come. Calculus Kurt speaks in a lower register than Glee Kurt, and after trying to reach for his hand during the few minutes before class and earning an outraged swat in return, Blaine’s learned to practically avoid any contact with him at all during that class, whether it be verbal or physical. He only steps in when he thinks Kurt’s snide remarks might get him into too much trouble. It’s confusing, to say the least, but Blaine Anderson is not a quitter. * “God my brother is driving me crazy,” Kurt moans as Blaine walks him down the hallway. Blaine chuckles, unable to imagine what Finn could have possibly done this time. “Was his late-night Call Of Duty tournament keeping you up too late?” Kurt looks puzzled. “He doesn’t play Call Of Duty,” he replies. Blaine’s forehead creases in confusion because he’s sure he’s heard Finn boast about his marathons on that video game on more than one occasion. “No, his laptop died and he refused to give me back mine so he could work on his journalism project.“ Blaine had no idea that Finn was so passionate about writing, but he supposes Kurt knows his own brother better than he does. * It takes a few weeks, but Blaine finally figures it out. It’s the Cheerios uniform.

He’s been sheltered by all those years at Dalton, so when he came to McKinley he didn’t understand right away, but now he does. Status is everything to the kids at this school and if you’re wearing a Letterman jacket or a Cheerios uniform, nobody’s going to screw with you.

But if you’re not... well, Blaine is certain that Kurt’s built up walls of his own to protect himself from the idiots like Azimio and Langanthal when he doesn’t have the Cheerios uniform to do it for him.

It’s the only logical explanation.

At least it is until he walks into the choir room and Kurt is wearing black jeans with a bright yellow raincoat.

“Wow,” Blaine greets him, mostly out of surprise from how different this outfit is from Kurt’s normal wardrobe. “Do you like it?” Kurt takes his usual seat next to Blaine.

“I-I think it’s great,” Blaine stammers, hating how hard it is to make heads or tails of the boy sitting next to him. “It’s just so different from your usual get up.” “I know.” Kurt chortles. “Sue had them sent out for dry cleaning, so we get to freestyle dress today.” So, Blaine supposes, it’s not the Cheerios uniform. * Blaine sighs as he walks into calculus. This is a bad idea. He knows it’s a really bad idea because Kurt is always in a bad mood for this class, but he doesn’t care. He’s hoping that if he can get Kurt to act like his normal self now, he can do it indefinitely and he won’t have to worry about it anymore. He takes a steadying breath and walks right up to him. “I usually know to wait until you’re out of this class, but I can’t take it anymore. Will you go to dinner with me?” Kurt looks up at him like he’s the dumbest creature on earth. It stings. “Sorry,” Kurt spits without an ounce of remorse in his voice. “I’m not gay, but if I were, I don’t think you’d be my type.” Blaine feels like he’s been punched in the gut. His hurt quickly morphs into anger and he retorts back, “You know, I get that you’re capricious, but I never took you for a coward,” before pushing past him and taking a seat in the very back of the class. He doesn’t see confounded look on the other boy’s face and doesn’t hear him whisper, “What the fuck,” to himself. * The situation gets a hundred times more confusing when Kurt comes up to him in the hallway a few days later. “Hey!” He calls out to Blaine. Blaine tenses. He so does not want to have this conversation right now, and certainly not in the middle of the hallway. He keeps walking, keeps avoiding Kurt. “I am talking to you!” Kurt finally catches up with him and grabs him by the shoulder to force Blaine to face him. “You’ve been avoiding me for days and I want to know why!” Blaine is dumbfounded. “Look, Kurt,” he scoffs. “If I had known you were still in the closet, I would’ve probably backed off. But you came onto me! I get not being ready to come out, but I really like you and I don’t know how much longer–hmph!” Before he knows what’s happening, Kurt is pulling on the front of Blaine’s jacket, bringing their faces together. And it’s... nice. It’s really nice. The pressure of Kurt’s mouth against his own is warm and even, and for a moment Blaine forgets all the crazy that seems to revolve around Kurt Hummel because all he can think about is the world of possibilities this kiss is opening up. Kurt pulls away, leaving him in a daze. “Would someone who’s in the closet do that?” “I guess not.” Blaine responds airily, head still spinning. * When Blaine sees Kurt at the end of that day, shoving some books into his locker, he can’t keep his stupid grin off his face. Blaine comes up behind him and grabs his waist playfully, spinning his around. “I’ve been wanting to do this all day.” He says before pulling them together. If he’s being honest... it’s not very good. He can feel Kurt grimace and tense up by the time their lips meet, and he’s about to pull away and ask what’s wrong before Kurt beats him to the punch. He shoves Blaine’s chest, splitting them asunder. “What the fuck was that?” Blaine can see that Kurt is absolutely seething. “I just thought- after earlier today—” “In case I haven’t been very clear before, I’m gonna be completely transparent now,” he fumes. “I never want to see your face again. Stay the hell away from me!” Blaine watches in a melting pot of emotions as Kurt turns around and all but sprints away from him. What the hell was that all about? * Blaine knocks on the Hudson-Hummel household door vigorously. He knows Kurt told him to stay the hell away from him, but his stubborn frustration tells him they are going to talk about this god dammit. The door opens and Finn can barely get out a friendly greeting before Blaine busts pats him. “Where’s your brother?” He demands. “Uh, which one?” “Don’t play dumb, Finn!” The taller boy only looks at him expectantly. “Kurt!” Finn sees the look in Blaine’s eyes and knows he’s searching for some kind of answer, probably one he can’t give him. “Uh, Kurt!” He calls. “Your boyfriend’s here and he looks kinda pissed off.” Kurt comes down the stairs, face lighting up when he sees Blaine. “Hey—“ he starts, but Blaine wastes no time getting to the point. “Are we gonna talk about that kiss or not?” “What?” “I should go.” Finn points out uncomfortably. “I thought it was nice, right?” “It-it was not nice.” Blaine exhales. “You said you didn’t want to see me again.” “Am I missing something here?” “I have no idea why I’m still here.” “I’m getting a lot of mixed signals from you, Kurt!” Blaine finally explodes. “In glee club all you want to do is flirt and hold hands and banter which I am all for, believe me! But then in calculus you seem like you want nothing to do with me!” “Calculus?” Kurt’s face twists up in a lack of understanding. “We don’t have that class together. I don’t even take calculus, I’m in statistics—“ And then it hits him. He doesn’t take calculus, but there’s one person he knows who does. “CARSON!” Kurt screeches so loudly that even Blaine, seething just a moment ago, is startled. Blaine hears another set of footsteps rush down the stairs accompanied by a familiar voice. “I swear to god if you called me down here while I’m in the middle of editing my college entrance essay to tell me how unflattering my wardrobe is again I’m gonna—“ The boy stops dead in his tracks when he sees Blaine, and Blaine blanches. “Oh, my god.” He mumbles. Standing in front of him is an exact replica of Kurt, wearing the same blue jacket he’d always donned in calculus. He looks at Kurt, then back at—Carson. It all makes so much sense. Kurt didn’t have a dual personality, Blaine was just an idiot. Twins. Fucking twins. “Oh, my god,” Carson says, turning to Finn and Kurt. “It’s that weirdo I was telling you about!” “Wait, this is the creepy guy who has a crush on you?” Kurt asks in bewilderment. “I thought you were just expressing your closeted homophobia a la Finn circa sophomore year?” “Oh,” Finn rolls his eyes. “You just have to bring that up again.” “You know I’m not homophobic,” Carson retorts, ignoring his stepbrother. “This is that guy that gave me that note, asked me out, then kissed me without warning!” “You kissed Carson?” Kurt and Finn ask in unison. “I thought he was you!” Blaine defends himself. “For a month?” Carson asks, unconvinced. He scoffs. “Convenient.” “Don’t flatter yourself,” Kurt growls back at him. “Dude,” Finn interjects, voice beginning to bubble up with laughter. “They look nothing alike.” “Finn, they are literally identical twins!” “What, did you just think Kurt was really fickle?” Carson asks incredulously. Blaine opens his mouth to respond but snaps it shut immediately because even though he now realizes how utterly absurd that sounds, it’s exactly what he thought. “Oh, my god.” Finn, Kurt, and Carson all chorus in realization. The horror of the situation dawns on Blaine and a white-hot embarrassment starts burning in the pit of his stomach. “I have to go.” He says, eyes wide as he turns to leave. Kurt grabs his hand. “What? You don’t have to leave,” he explains. Blaine shakes his head incredulously. “You’re not done with me? After all that?” “Of course not!” He laughs as if it’s the craziest thing he’s ever heard. “Do I think you can be a little ridiculously oblivious? Of course. But I really like you, Blaine. Besides, this will make a great story one day.” From behind them, Carson rolls his eyes. “Can I fucking go now?” Kurt shoots his brother a glare then immediately turns his attention back to Blaine. “But if you ever kiss my brother again, we’re through.” Blaine lets his head fall forward and huffs out a laugh. “Deal.” 

[echoequinox]

Sometimes I see tweets and write incredibly self indulgent stuff, so anyway, here’s two new OCs I just made based on this tweet 

///

Christmas. It was always goddamn Christmas. 

Or, she supposed, the days leading up to Christmas. Her least favorite holiday by far. Easter, she could deal with. Hell, Halloween was even fun. But Christmas? Just… the worst.

She sighed, reaching down to the overstuffed messenger bag at her side as the elevator hummed softly, the gentle sound of insufferable muzak drifting through her ears. She understood why her employer would pick such AWFUL music, but that didn’t mean SHE should have to deal with it. 

She took out a few of the envelopes, grimacing and looking them over. Truth be told, she had more of a soft spot for kids than most of the others, so seeing the messy crayon handwriting did make her feel a little bad. She was sure as hell none of the others were going to sign up for it, so she figured she’d bite the bullet. It helped that she got holiday pay for it. Literally no other time of the year, or job, got holiday pay. He was such an asshole like that.

Trarnadoch grimaced at the small dark red stamp in the corner of the envelope, a black inverted pentacle. He had this… bizarre, twisted sense of humor that she could only assume came with doing the same shit over and over for… what, ever? It had to get a little boring. She actually passed by him doing one of the dances from Fortnite once, accidentally banging up one of his horns. She’d been around long enough that she knew she could laugh, even if all the other demons stayed stoic, applauding him for his effort. 

Maybe that’s why he gave her the job. She was sure a few other people had signed up for it, at least, but every year, it went to her. Could Satan appreciate someone? That was an interesting concept. 

The elevator rumbled hard and she grimaced, gripping the rail and shoving the envelopes back in the back as it shook violently before finally settling out. She was in the human world now. The fine line between heaven and hell. And she was already freezing. She draped the jacket over her shoulders, breathing into her hands and shivering softly. She had a higher temperature tolerance than most, at least. Everyone joked that Xozraxar could get frostbite in Texas in June (which, admittedly, he almost had, making the joke even funnier). 

At least she only needed a thick jacket for the North Pole.

The elevator finally rumbled to a stop, a soft ding indicating that they’d arrived. She gave a deep sigh, tugging her hair back around her horns, looking to one of the semi-reflective panels of the elevator and making sure it looked okay, glancing over her makeup and giving a final, satisfied huff, before finally opening the door and heading out.

Maybe that was another reason He sent her up so frequently.

She groaned as she started through the thick snow layer, up to her shins and rendering the rubber boots essentially useless as it saturated her socks and made everything feel like a slushy wet mess. At least the elevator didn’t let her out TOO far away from her destination, even though she could see the glittering city of Winterville in the distance. What a stupid name. 

She hesitated as she kicked her boots off, stepping up onto the porch and stopping at the door. She could probably just leave the bag behind and go. It was always an option. He just told her she had to deliver it, not actually follow up with Santa’s helpers. Still, she found her raising a fist, grimacing and closing her eyes before giving a few soft raps at the door. 

There was a noise of a light commotion before the door opened, a man several feet shorter than her opening the door with a look of confusion that quickly turned to shock.

“Oh my god,” he whispered, before grinning. “Trarnadoch! You’re early this year!” 

“Yeah, yeah,” she laughed, rolling her eyes and passing inside as he patted her on the back, just about as high on her as he could reach. “Hey everybody.”

The pointy-eared people at the cubicles looked away from their work, perking up and waving excitedly, a murmur of excitement rippling through them. 

“Please, sit, we just put on a pot,” the man grinned, guiding her to a couch and she chuckled, settling in as he took her bag, starting to hand them off to the others, who happily added them to their already enormous stacks of envelopes. “How’ve you been? How’s life down in hell?” 

“I dunno, alright, I guess?” she smiled. “I mean as nice as hell is to a demon.” 

“Sorta like the North Pole to an elf,” he laughed and she nodded. “Well good! I hope business isn’t too good for you, these days!” 

“You can probably tell by that naughty list of the big man,” she snorted, kicking at his shin as he laughed, waving at her playfully before starting off toward the far side of the room, pouring a large mug from the coffee pot and handing it to her, and she tried not to look too eager as she sipped at it. God damn elves made the best hot chocolate. She paused for a minute, before giving a soft sigh, closing her eyes. “I, uh, should probably… get going. You know, demon stuff and all.” There was a disappointed groan from the crowd. 

“Well, alright,” he sighed, patting her hand. “If you don’t think you can stay just a little longer.” She saw the sparkle in his eye and opened her mouth to speak, when the far door opened to the break room, an elf in silver and gold jingling out, yawning and heading back to her cubicle before pausing, eyes widening. 

“Tra?” she said softly, a huge grin broadening across her face as she started across the room. “Oh my god, Tra!” She laughed, jumping at the demon as she yelped in surprise, catching her as she hugged her tight, tinsel collar tickling Tra’s neck. “It’s so good to see you!”

“Y-yeah, you too, Holly,” she grinned, knowing that at least the elves didn’t have a problem with her sharp teeth. “How are things?”

“Oh, good! I’m so happy-” She paused, whirling on her heel to the man that had seen Tra in, grinning at the both of them. “Noel, can I possibly extend my lunch-?”

“Of course,” he laughed, patting her shoulder and nodding. 

“Let’s take a walk,” Holly grinned, taking Tra’s hand and leading her out of the office and out into the snow, to a walkway that Tra hadn’t even noticed existed, but the snow was shallow enough that it didn’t bother her too terrible. “Oh my goodness, Tra, how have you been? Are you eating enough? Did you write a Christmas list?”

“How’re you going to deliver it?” she laughed, shaking her head.

“If you made a Christmas list, I would hand deliver you your gifts myself,” she said, crossing her arms and giving a resolute nod.

“Yeah, that does sound like you,” Tra smiled with a blush. “How’re things with you? How’s the office life? How’d it work out with that, uhh…? Was it Candi?”

“His name was Cheer,” she chastised, rolling her eyes as Tra laughed hard. “And… it didn’t… go super well.”

“Oh no,” she frowned. “Was he a douchebag?”

“No!” Holly laughed. “I don’t think elves can be douchebags.”

“Sounds boring,” Tra grinned.

“No, he was just… he wasn’t…? What… I was looking for, I guess.”

“Want one of those bad elves, huh?” Tra teased, elbowing her. “Leather studded jackets and a motorcycle with little jingly bells on it?”

“Tra, I swear, I do not know why I enjoy you coming around so much,” she sighed with exasperation, giving her a nudge to show she was kidding. Tra opened her mouth to say something, but Holly took her hand, leading her to the side of the path, over to a wood park table, crusted over with ice, with a perfect view of a pristine, untouched lake of pure ice, a few penguins mingling around the sides. 

“It’s really pretty,” Tra murmured as she carefully sat at the table, shivering from the cold. 

“Isn’t it?” Holly sighed, sitting across from her, back toward the lake. 

“So no, he was just boring?”

“Yeah, I guess,” Holly frowned, tracing her finger along the table. “He just wasn’t… what I’m looking for.”

“Wanted like 16 kids?”

“Oh my goodness, no, Tra,” she scoffed. “I wouldn’t mind if it was just kids, I want kids someday, I just… I’m…?” She grimaced, scratching the back of her neck and looking away.

“You gotta spell it out for me, Hollz,” Tra replied. “Did he have a second head? Did he snore? Was his candy cane too small-?”

“I’m gay!” Holly groaned, throwing her hands in the air, leaving Tra to blink in stunned silence. A long moment stretched out between them, Holly watched Tra’s expressions as Tra tried to figure out how to react. 

“Huh,” she finally said.

“‘Huh’?” 

“Huh,” she repeated. “Neat?”

“‘Neat’?” Holly gaped. 

“Shit, I dunno, Holly! That’s… great? I’m super super happy for you, that’s… hard to like, deal with, I think. I dunno, demons are all pretty fluid, but I assume elf society is more about making little elflings or whatever.” Holly sighed, hanging her head. “But no that’s rad, I’m proud of you, findin’ out who you are and shit, that’s super neat-”

“If you say neat again, I’m gonna throw you in the lake,” Holly muttered and Tra barked out a laugh.

“You really are the most fiery elf, aren’t you?” Tra grinned.

“I try,” she said softly, steepling her fingers as she kicked her legs. “Um. So demons are pretty fluid?”

“Well, yeah, I mean we’re shapeshifters kinda, so like, it’s mostly how we feel like presenting, you know? Being gay is sort of weird when your boyfriend isn’t your boyfriend the next day.”

“Ah,” Holly frowned. “But you’re a girl whenever you’re here. Are you ever a boy?”

“Rarely?” she sighed, threading her fingers through her hair and shivering softly. “I mean I try not to be. I don’t like the whole… aesthetic. We’re like ‘peak performance’ or whatever so boy bodies end up being so…”

“Hard?” Holly asked, scrunching her face.

“Yeah,” Tra grinned. “And girls are so soft.”

“Yeah,” Holly sighed with a pleasant grin. 

“Got your eye on anyone?” she chuckled, nudging her under the table.

“I think I do,” she nodded. “I don’t know if she likes me back.”

“If she didn’t, she’d been an idiot,” Tra snorted.

“You think?”

“Yeah, you’re like? The only cool elf. And you’re pretty, so like, you’ve got that going for you.”

“You think I’m pretty?” she asked, going rigid, the tips of her pointed ears going bright red.

“Well yeah, like… look at you,” Tra chuckled. “I mean you’ve got pretty hair and the soft girl thing going on like we said and oh god it’s me isn’t it?”

There was a long silence between the two, the only sound being the soft wind and the penguins chirping from the lake, muffled by the gentle snowfall. “Is that bad?” she whispered, frowning into her hands. “A whole city full of people, and I just… keep thinking… about you.” 

“Holly…” Tra started, her mouth going dry, her brain short-circuiting. 

“It probably is, right?” Holly laughed bitterly, standing and wiping her eyes. “I mean, it was… it was silly, I think. You’re from a literal different world, and I-I have so much work, you know? I can’t… be bothered with relationships right now, it’s… it was silly. Maybe being gay was silly! Maybe I should just try men again, maybe it was just… Maybe Cheer was a bad fit.”

“Holly,” she tried again, but her mouth wouldn’t form words. 

“It, um. It was good seeing you again, Tra,” Holly muttered. “Can you tell Noel I’m taking a sick day? I don’t… feel very good suddenly.”

“Holly,” she tried again as the elf started to jingle away, crying softly as it turned into a run. “Holly!” 

She swore, stumbling awkwardly out of the too small table, starting after her before grimacing, pulling her jacket up and starting back for the office. 

Holly liked her? Possibly past tense, now. Tra was… just so confused. She had the wriggling thought of a really bad idea, but she tried pushing it down, each time it resurfacing stronger. Finally she groaned loudly, pulling out her phone and blinking at the message.

THE BOSS, 4:12pm: yes

“You’re such an ASSHOLE,” she groaned, shoving it back in her pocket and breathing into her hands as she stormed back up to the office, pushing through the door to grinning elf faces, who looked to her, than the door as she closed it behind her, faces falling. 

“How did things go?” Noel asked tentatively.

“I need a double hot chocolate,” she sighed, collapsing to the couch. “And the name of a few good hotels.”

[wewillwriteyou]

Friends Will Be Friends || Chapter 13

A few elements from the main plot: A very special group of friends: early days, drama, laughter, booze, success, rock stars life, girl power, friendship, love, sex, music, misunderstandings, some more drama, family. Pairings in the tags

Summary Chapter 13: The concert in Peterborough, December 1973. The after party.

Word count: 3.8K

Warnings: There’s a little smut in this one (kissing, touching, mention of sexy times and blah blah, nothing strong), language, drinking

A/N: Hi folks. This happens right after chapter 12 and it’s a bit long, but it explains some of the stuff we have knowingly spared to tell you before. So be careful and enjoy yourselves, lovesies 💖😏 As usual, if you like what you read, comment, like, reblog and share this with others! For everyone who follows and supports this story, thank you guys (you know who you are)! You are real stars! ⭐💗

"I'm telling you, Mel! He was all red and self-conscious, I’ve never seen him like that!” Chelsea was widely gesturing, trying to explain to her friend the awkward scene she had witnessed the previous night. They were sitting on some sound boxes scattered on the stage the boys would have performed on in a few hours: they were in Peterborough, Cambridgeshire, for the last gig of the year and of their tour.

Everyone was excited for that night: the girls were thrilled of having their boys at home for a few weeks before they headed back in the studios to record the new album. The guys were thrilled to conclude their second official tour and, of course, to spend some time away with their girls: they had booked some suites in a hotel in Peterborough for the whole week from Christmas Eve's eve until New Year's Day so that they could have spent both Christmas and New Year’s together and, just as Freddie had requested, throw a huge party.

“I wish I had been there Chel! I don’t know what I would give to go back and see his face” Mel chuckled, picturing Brian trying to disappear inside his curls. And she surely would have liked to meet this mysterious lady who had made Brian May blush.

“Well, if we’re lucky we might see her again… He invited her here”

“No way!” they both giggled like little girls

“What’s so funny girls?” Brian came on stage to tune his Red Special.

The girls exchanged a sly look, Mel got up and dangling on her feet she got closer, looking at him through her lashes “Nothing Bri”

Brian narrowed his eyes, wondering why the hell was she grinning so wide and why the heck Chelsea had the same wide smirk on her face as she sat five feet apart, biting her thumbnail innocently.

“You told her didn’t you?” he snorted at Chelsea; the girl looked away nonchalantly

“You brat” he breathed out. Chelsea pretended to be offended and gasped.

Mel was still looking at him “This girl actually stole your heart, didn’t she?”

Brian moved his attention to her and scoffed “I wouldn’t say that… I just thought she was very pretty and she was very kind to me, so yeah… I flushed, big deal uh?”

Mel smiled fondly “Look at you all flustered just thinking about it!” she pinched his cheek and he waved her hand away, the edge of his lips lifting in a half smile. He knew Melissa could not be any more right: he had been completely starstruck by that red-headed girl and he couldn’t make his head around it.

“I’m not gonna see her again anyway, so…” he admitted more to himself than to her.

“Didn’t you invite her here?”

Brian turned to fulminate Chelsea one more time but she had disappeared. Brian sighed. They were alone and he knew he could trust Melissa with anything “I did, but she lives all the way on the other side of England… Let’s say my hopes are really low right now”

Melissa smiled again “You never know, Bri. The universe works in mysterious and unspeakable ways… It might just surprise you”

Brian let out a quick laugh “C’mon Mel, we’re scientists… aren’t we supposed to be a bit more objective?”

“Maybe… but we are allowed to hope we are actually headed somewhere, aren’t we?” she gently caressed his arm “Just, have a little faith in the universe. It knows what it’s doing.”

She gave him a little smile before stepping away and heading behind the scenes. Before going off stage she turned one more time “It worked for me” she said and Brian smiled warmly. He felt sincerely more hopeful, but he forced himself not to think about her too much. He was too damn scared to be let down again.

Melissa passed through the thick black curtains and walked down the few steps, heading towards the dressing rooms. She was still smiling from her conversation with Brian over science and belief in the universe. Science. Physics. Job. Her mind quickly connected those dots and she sighed to herself: she had to talk to John.

Earlier that month she had applied to a research committee at the Imperial – the college where she was studying – and just a few days before she and the girls had left home to meet the guys in Taunton, she had received a call from the head of the department: they had accepted her.

For some reason she had not told anyone yet, maybe she was afraid of jinxing it. But the research committee would have started working just a few weeks into January and would have lasted at least until June and then from September to November if they gained good results. Which meant she couldn’t leave London for at least six months straight and she couldn’t follow the guys on tour as much as she had done in the past year and a half.

She knew this was a big shot for her and she couldn’t be more thrilled, but she couldn’t help but feel a bit sad that she would have ended up being the one left out.

Besides she didn’t want to spoil everyone’s fun just a few days before Christmas by bothering them with her worries, especially John. But her mind kept on coming back to that and it was driving her crazy. She had to talk to John. She had to hear his comforting words.

As she opened the door to John and Roger’s dressing room her eyes fell on the two tangled figures making out on the sofa.

"Oh my God, guys! Keep it down!” she shouted at Roger and Chelsea, covering her eyes with one hand, the other still on the handle, ready to close the door.

Chelsea flushed and giggled in embarrassment, while Roger laughed out loud at his sister’s reaction.

“What did you think we were doing? Holding hands?” he chuckled.

Mel snorted still not looking at them “I was looking for John, you doofus”

“He’s not here” Roger stated the obvious.

"Well, you don't say" she was about to slam the door when she heard Chelsea shouting that John was looking for her too.

Just as Mel turned around, closing the door behind her, she saw her boyfriend coming up to her with a big smile on his face.

“Hey sweetie” she gave him a little kiss “you were looking for me?” he asked.

“Just wanted to say good luck for tonight” she placed her hands on his shoulders, leaned in to find his lips and kissed him passionately.

John pulled away and smiled “Someone’s in the mood?”

She smirked and gave him a light peck on the cheek “Just a good-luck-kiss”

John chuckled “I’m not sure that’s a thing hon’” he managed to say between kisses.

“You guys are so mushy-slushy. It was cute at first, but now I wonder if I’m getting diabetes” Mary walked past them, rapidly heading to Freddie’s dressing room.

John chuckled and Melissa reached out to playfully slap her bum as she passed beside her. Mary mouthed an ‘ouch’ before disappearing into the stall.

John shook his head “We are pretty sappy, aren’t we?” he leaned in to kiss her again, a smile still on his face.

“Yeah but it’s sweet” Mel replied between kisses. John was directing her to his dressing room but Mel halted him.

“I wouldn’t go in there. Rog and Chel already going at it and I’m thrilled by the idea of making out right on the couch right next to my brother” Mel chuckled.

John let out an embarrassed chuckle and took her hand, dragging her through the corridors. They were giggling and stumbling in their feet until they reached an unused stall and John closed the door behind them. He turned around and smirked at the girl, making her softly chuckle.

“You are a dork” she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed the tip of his nose.

John smiled and laced his arms around her waist, while slowly directing her to the table in the middle of the room “We’ll see about that, honey” he said with a nifty smirk. He glided his hands to her thighs and lifted her up so that she could sit on the table, while he placed himself between her legs.

She squealed and softly giggled before kissing him again. She knew perfectly well that she was only pushing forwards the conversation they had to have.

Melissa regretfully pulled away, placing a hand on John’s chest, who was trying to inch further, hands on her thighs and a longing smirk on his face.

“John, I need to tell you something” she looked down and the smile died down on his face.

“What’s wrong Mel?”

“Nothing, honey” she gently cupped his cheek “I just need to tell you this because I’ve been holding back too long. I got a small temporary job as a researcher at the Imperial…”

“What? That’s great Mel!” he immediately hugged “it’s what you’ve always wanted, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, it is” she sadly smiled “I have my first shift on the 14th, and I’ll be working 5/7 until June. Then again, if everything goes as planned, from September to November”

“But…”

Mel sighed “But that means I won’t be able to see you most of the year.”

John realized she was probably right. They had some songs ready to be recorded and had booked the recording studio for January and February. Then the plan was to tour for about a month in the UK to present the new album and in April, if everything had gone their way, they would have flied to America for a two months tour. Then again some recording in the summer and another tour throughout the autumn.

Mel was sadly looking at her hands, maybe regretting telling him just before what was supposed to be a joyful occasion. John noticed how miserable she was and quickly lifted her chin up to look into her eyes

“It’s gonna be fine Mel,” he softly said with a smile “we’re gonna find a way of seeing each other, honey”

He lightly kissed and then added “And I want you to know I’m so proud of you for getting this job. You deserve it.”

Mel smiled and shook her head “What did I do to deserve you, Deacon?”

John lifted an eyebrow “Deacon? That’s new…”

She smirked and drew him closer “What? You prefer John Richard Deacon? It’s a bit long to say everyti-”

“Stop talking”

She couldn’t finish because John crushed his lips into hers. She smiled into the kiss and wrapped her arms behind his neck. Melissa thought to herself that John was really good – maybe even too good – at making her stop worrying about things. He always knew what to say and how to react at every single worry she would expose him.

“You know you can’t kiss your way out of everything, right?” she managed to say between kisses.

John playfully smirked “We’ll see about that, honey”

***

The crowd applauded one last time. Brian put down his guitar to join the others upstage and bow to the audience. As he stood there, between Roger and Freddie, he tried to scoop the crowd with his eyes, hopeful to see a mass of red curls.

When he didn’t he felt a staggering pain in the chest; he was more disappointed than he cared to admit. Mel’s little speech on hope and universe and all that crap had actually made him more delusional than he would have wanted to be.

He stumbled behind the curtains of the stage and went straight into his and Freddie’s dressing room, careless of the interrogative faces of the girls and the crew that were waiting for them. When he heard someone screaming that the bus had just arrived to take them to the hotel, he didn’t even bother to change his clothes. He just picked up his bag and Freddie's and headed to the back door of the building.

He wasn’t sure whether he was sad or angry or disappointed. Maybe he was all three at the same time.

He climbed onto the bus and sat in the front, waiting for all the party of people to come up. When he exchanged looks with Melissa, she gave him a sad smile. He didn’t return the smile and looked another way: it wasn’t her fault but he could feet a gulp of rage coming from his deep throat and he knew if he had opened his mouth, he would have thrown it up all over her.

When they arrived at the hotel, his first impulse was to run as fast as he could to his bedroom to avoid any other possible human contact who could invite him to the band’s Christmas party. Freddie had invited a lot of people but Brian could not stand the idea of standing among his friends. He normally didn’t care that they were three couples and he was the only single one (Roger had tried many times of fixing him up with girls he knew but Brian had always kindly refused).

That evening, however, he thought he could have thrown up at the sight of them being happy as ever and him being alone and, what was more, “dumped” by the only girl he actually wanted to see.

He walked fast into the lobby and asked for the key to his room. The receptionist cordially obliged and as he turned to go upstairs he caught with the glimpse of an eye a mass of curly red hair getting up from the bar and running toward Melissa and Roger.

Brian felt his chin touch the ground. Chrissie.

“Chris! Oh my God! What are you doing here?” Mel exclaimed hugging the redhead tightly.

The girl chuckled and stumbled on her feet, overwhelmed by the energy the blonde put into the hug.

“I wanted to see you guys! I actually was at last night’s concert but didn’t get to say hi. So when they told me you had one more gig, I rushed up here”

“And you rushed up here just to see me and Mel?” Roger asked cockily.

She laughed and turned to hug him tightly as well “It’s good to see you, Chris. It’s been too long”

Chelsea was helping John and Freddie with some bags but it didn’t slip her eyes the way Roger looked at Chrissie and the way she hugged him. Don’t be ridiculous, she must be just a friend, she said to herself, trying to ignore the peak of jealousy staggering her stomach. She focused on the packing and missed the rest of the conversation, her eyes forced on what she was doing and not on the way Chrissie was holding Rog’s hands.

“It is… we have so much catching up to do!” she said enthusiastically, still holding Roger’s hands “But I must say, I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for your guitarist… Brian, I think…” Chrissie tried to play it cool, pretending not to know that his name was indeed Brian and, more importantly, pretending that she hadn’t rushed to Peterborough, Cambridgeshire, just to see him again. And of course, to catch up with Melissa and Roger, she thought. Oh, c’mon you don’t even believe it yourself.

Brian still had his chin on the ground, but when he heard her say his name he startled out of his trance and stepped closer to the small group, clearing his throat to introduce himself.

When Chrissie laid her eyes on him and smiled warmly, Brian’s heart skipped a beat. How the hell did she manage to make his mind blank out of any reasonable – or at least normal - thing to say?.

“I see you made it, at last, Chrissie” he managed to say.

Chrissie felt a rush of electricity throughout her body, hearing him say her name. She nodded and quickly hugged him, as a way of greeting him. It was an embarrassed hug from both parts and when they pulled away they both giggled and looked down, flushing.

Mel and Roger exchanged knowing looks and Mel had to bite down her lip, realizing that Chrissie was the girl Chelsea had told her about. Brian and Chrissie looked immensely cute, standing there and looking everywhere but at each other.

Roger broke the awkward silence “Chrissie I hope you’re planning on staying the night, cause we’ve got a huge party waiting for us in the hall. Would you fancy joining us?”

Chrissie glanced at Brian, before turning to Roger and saying “I’d love to. But I have yet to book a room for the night… if you guys excuse me one sec-”

Roger placed an arm on her shoulder and guided her towards the hall, Melissa and Brian two steps behind “I sense you won’t be needing one, dear” Brian flushed and slapped him on his head, making Roger loudly cackle. Melissa covered her mouth to contain her laughter, earning a cold stare from Brian as well.

***

The party didn’t turn out to be that huge anyway. A hundred people, more or less. Mostly from the band's crew, a few of the hotel’s guests and some friends of the band. Quite a lot of people for a Christmas party in the three-star hotel of a small town, but not enough as Freddie had hoped.

As he walked through the crowd, saluting their guests and wishing Merry Christmas to everyone, he had Mary on his side, acting like the significant other she was. They walked up to John and Chelsea, who were enjoying their drinks by the curtained window.

“This party is a bummer” he breathed out, crushing on the nearest armchair.

“What are you talking about, Fred? Everyone’s enjoying themselves!” Chelsea rubbed his shoulder.

“Besides, it’s a great way of saying good-bye to the whole crew and wish them Merry Christmas” John added.

“I guess you’re right…” Freddie admitted “I just feel like there’s not enough booze and everyone is awfully… still”

The others chuckled, then Mary said, “Maybe it’s better not to have everyone hammered the day before Christmas… It’s fine, honey, relax” she gently rubbed his shoulder and sat on his lap to wrap an arm around his shoulder to kiss him gently.

Chelsea smiled and looked away, her eyes scooping the room to find her boyfriend who had apparently disappeared from her sight the moment she had left him at the reception with Brian, Chrissie and Melissa.

She hated to admit she felt some kind of jealousy. Unjustified jealousy, at that. Is it unjustified? she couldn’t help but wonder. She trusted Roger obviously, but a part of her still feared he could get sick of being her boyfriend and could realize he preferred going back into the one-night-stand game. She shoved down the last drops of her flute and furrowed her eyebrows as the alcohol lingered down her throat.

John noticed she was upset, so he placed a hand on her elbow to stir her away from Mary and Freddie.

“Are you okay?” he simply asked.

Chelsea forced a smile “Sure. I’m fine”

“Doesn’t seem like it”

“Doesn’t seem like your business” she mocked him, then realized what she had said and to whom she was talking to.

“I’m sorry, John. I’m a bit dizzy and… upset. Dangerous combo” she let out a forced laugh “but I don’t think I want to talk about it”

John studied her face. She had been upset since they had arrived at the hotel, almost an hour earlier. He knew he was on risky territory, but he needed to know,

“Did Roger do something to upset you?”

“How did you-” she started, but then corrected herself “No, he didn’t… I’m just wondering where he is” She decided to say.

John wasn’t convinced “Chel, you know you can talk to me, right?”

Chelsea turned to him and smiled, sincerely this time “I know,”

She sighed. Oh, what the hell, this is killing me.

“Do you know who this Chrissie is?” she asked, maybe more brutally than she had intended.

John scoffed “So that’s what this is all about…”

Chelsea smacked his upper arm “I’m not jealous, jerk”

“Never said you were…” John grinned “Look Chel, I actually have no idea who the hell Chrissie is but I have to say, if – and let me stress if – you’re a teeny tiny jealous, it’s not worth it. Roger would literally die – or better kill – for you. I’m sure there’s nothing to worry about”

He smiled at his best friend and when he saw her smiling slightly back, he felt he had done something good. He wasn’t sure he was right, though. He had felt the urge to reassure Chelsea, but deep down he feared she might be right to be jealous. He decided to keep those thoughts to himself and just warmly smile at her, promising to himself he would have done anything to spare her from any suffering.

If there was something he was sure of, it was that he would have done anything for two of the most important women in his life: Chelsea and Melissa.

In the exact moment he thought about her, she appeared in his sight, cheeks red and glittery eyes – probably from the alcohol she had ingested. She was stumbling towards them, anchored to who he identified as Chrissie and followed by Roger and Brian.

The four of them completed the circle of the small group. They all looked at each other, no-one knowing what to say. Roger broke the silence “For those who haven’t met her yet, this is Chrissie” he pointed at the redheaded girl between him and Melissa “we had some classes together in high school and she used to hang around a lot with us” and he indicated himself and Melissa.

Chrissie shook hands with everyone she hadn’t met yet and when it came to Chelsea she said “I know you! You were the girl who was helping Brian last night. Chelsea, right?”

Ugh, she’s nice. Chelsea nodded “Yeah it was me, good to see you again” she forced herself to smile politely, repeating John’s words inside her head.

“Now that we are all here,” Freddie started, getting up and gesturing to the waiter to bring them some more flutes of wine “I propose a toast”.

When they all had a glass in their hands, Freddie looked around to the group of people standing in front of him. Roger had crossed the small circle to reach Chelsea and wrap an arm around her shoulders and look her fondly in the eyes; John had his arm around Mel’s waist and she had rested her head on his shoulder; Chrissie was awkwardly standing a few inches in front of Brian but when Freddie made eyes at him, he slowly placed a hand on her shoulder and pulled her closer to him, so that they were now in some way hugged too; Mary was as always by his side, arms wrapped around his, head resting on his shoulder.

Freddie smiled, feeling his heart filling with joy at the sight “To us”.

Chapters: ⤎ previous | next ⤏ 

A/N: Hello again! Hope you enjoyed this one 💗 we’re gonna tag the lovely people who read, liked and commented the previous chapters. If you want to be tagged in the next one, comment under this one or leave us a message. Our inboxes are always open for you beautiful people

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