#wayward cocktails

[dreamer-of-myth]

[bermudianabroad]

This popped up on the BAMZ instagram.

Wayward Pinnipeds: band name or Shakespearean insult?

A friend (hi B, if you still read this! 👋🏼) rightly pointed out how much ‘grey seal on the rocks’ sounds like a cocktail.

Trying to think of a recipe now: probably include part Black Seal rum with white rum to get the ‘grey’ but after that I’m stumped. To be continued! Ideas welcome!

[nvuy]

hijacked — boothill

summary. a mission to retrieve some files from a banquet hall goes wayward south when a galaxy ranger shows up to ruin your night—and score some bonus kisses while he’s at it.

notes. save me space cowboy… save me… remembered his entire body is robotic except his head. the possibilities to hack it and take over……….. ngh

HEY YOU!! there’s a sequel now.

warnings. little bit of threatening, mind control/hacking/hijacking? you take over his body for like a few minutes? is that a warning?

“Hey, pretty thing.”

Target locked. Your scanners had already tracked him before you could even realise he was speaking to you.

You swiftly hid away the USB drive in your purse.

Did he know?

It seemed his own eye enhancements—although a lot less subtle than yours—were scanning you down as well. How transactional. You’d hoped the walls you’d put up were enough to keep whatever technology he had at bay. Or at least, not trigger any alarms.

“You looked lonely. Was g’nna buy you a drink. Help you loosen up a bit.” He swished his own drink in your face for good measure. The coupe glass in his hands looked odd. He didn’t seem like a cocktail man. Not at all.

He looked like a whiskey man. Hard whiskey. With ice. In a tumbler with ribbed glass. You could picture it.

He just looked so out of place at the banquet.

He wasn’t even following the dress code. He was wearing boots, and a pair of old pants with zips along the calves. A hat with a white feather woven into the fabric rested on a head of long white hair with splashes of black around his face.

“No thanks,” you said with a wave. You tried to discreetly scan down his body, searching for any sort of hint of how you could get into his system.

His pants and what little material of his jacket hid most of the metal of his body. Internally, you cursed at it. He had no clear openings in his neck or arms. His head seemed entirely organic.

No weak spots.

“N’aww. Shame.”

The front door felt a lot further away now. Even more so, knowing he was most definitely here for you. He hadn’t even introduced himself yet. You had a feeling he knew he didn’t need to.

“Was g’nna ask ya to dance.”

You laughed awkwardly. “I can’t dance in these shoes.”

“Take ‘em off. Who cares?” he bantered playfully. “I’ll watch out for ‘em if they’re expensive.”

“They’re priceless,” you quipped back. “All of me is.”

“Good. You know your worth.”

You were actually worth about fifteen million, as according to your wanted status by the IPC. You weren’t sure if this man was a part of them, though members of the IPC were always very adamant on letting you know that, yes, they did work at the IPC. It was usually the first thing that came out of their mouths.

Questioning if they actually worked at the IPC opened another entire can of worms.

You didn’t feel the need to ask. Not in that moment, at least.

“And what’s yours?” you asked him with a bat of your lashes.

He winked. “Guess.”

You smiled and scanned him down again. “Depends. I’d have to see what you’re made of.”

“Naughty.” He leaned back against the wall with you. “You sure you don’t want that drink? It’s a cosmopolitan.”

Very sure. You were convinced that he’d just taken the drink from one of the server’s trays. You couldn’t imagine he’d walked up to the bar and requested it for himself.

“You strike me as a whiskey man,” you eased. It came past your lips like butter.

He flashed his teeth in warning.

Then, he sipped his drink. “You’re good. Anything else you can read with your fancy eyes?”

You stopped short.

He did know. It wasn’t a surprise, not at all. He wasn’t entirely human. He must have been equipped with similar technology to realise just how advanced yours was.

You realised then with a shaky breath that you had the same vision enhancements as he did. An even match, unable to read through to each other.

He must have had so much more, too. You only had so many enhancements, whereas he was made almost entirely of metal. The thought of amount of different codings and technology he had crammed into every wire of his body gave you a headache.

Bad idea. You shouldn’t have provoked him. You needed to retreat. You needed to get home, preferably safely, with the USB stored nice and snug in your purse.

You tried not to let your nervousness show, but by the way he was staring at you, you knew he could read your face.

“That’s it, then. You’ve figured out my party trick.” You got up from the wall. “Thank you for the offer. The drink, I mean.” You cleared your throat. “I’ll be going now.”

“I’m not scaring you off, am I?” He got up off the wall too.

He hadn’t taken his eyes off of you.

“Not at all.” When you turned to face him, he was smiling so wide his eyes had crinkled. “Have a good night.”

“At least let me walk you out,” he insisted. He also offered to hold your purse, to which you quickly declined. That only made him smile impossibly wider. “What sort of man am I to not see a pretty thing like you get home safe?”

You headed towards the hallway, knowing he was right behind you.

The banquet was still in full swing, barely even close to ending. Most of the cast were drunk or getting there. Heels had been discarded, some missing their pair, skewed all over the dancefloor like glitter.

The golden chandelier in the main room was yet to be pulled from the ceiling. You were surprised nobody had tried to swing from it yet.

You dodged chattering groups and couples in the hallway—one of them had decided to put on a full display while right next to an unoccupied bedroom, right there in the centre of the hall.

Another one was gagging dangerously close to your feet.

You shouldered past them. “Stop following me, Ranger.”

“Don’t make this more difficult than it needs to be.” You felt his hair brush over your shoulder.

You knew he had a weapon. He wouldn’t have come to threaten you without one.

Before you could reach the door handle, he grabbed your wrist, pulled you backwards, and into the unoccupied guest room that the couple hadn’t bothered to take.

He shut the door with a loud slam, though not before hearing someone whistle out in the corridor.

Your head snapped towards him. He was leaning on the door, his arms crossed, looking almost unbothered.

“We can play this game all day, pumpkin. I got time.” He waved you off with a grin. “Give me the files. I’m askin’ nicely. I won’t force ya to hand ‘em over. Yet.”

You gritted your teeth.

You were so fucking close. So close to getting out of here, and then he had to come—this walking hunk of metal and scrap—and ruin everything.

Nothing ever went your fucking way anyway. You shouldn’t have been shocked something like this would happen.

You held your purse tightly in your hands. All of this was pointless. The dress, the heels, the hair, the nails, the makeup. All of it.

You just hoped by some miracle that he hadn’t found your locator beacon yet. You’d hidden it well; within the bushes outside away from anyone’s line of sight, but he wasn’t just anyone. He could see things a lot of people couldn’t.

“C’mon. You know you wanna…” He smiled sweetly for good measure. It looked like a threat. When he leaned to the side, the golden barrel of a gun flashed beneath his belt.

You could try to make a backup. Right then. You had what you needed in your watch. He’d probably stop you before it was complete.

Or…

Or what? What else could you do?

Your locator beacon wasn’t responding, though it hadn’t been broken. Most likely deactivated temporarily. You bounced on your heels.

You then formed the worst idea of your life.

With shaky hands, you walked towards him slowly. You reached into your purse, feeling for the cold plastic of the black USB he wanted to get his grubby hands on.

“Knew you’d come ‘round.” He held out his hand expectantly.

You fished the USB from your bag.

Then, before you could place it into his palm, you tripped and almost broke your nose on his torso. Your hands splayed desperately onto his chest to keep your face from shattering on impact.

He was quick to grab your arms to steady you with a surprised grunt.

There was a whirring sound, and then the sound of something mechanical and wrong. Foreign. Not from his body, but from yours.

The spaces beneath his joints lit up abright yellow for a moment before his hands loosened from your arms.

You grinned. Gotcha.

When you pulled back, he witnessed you pull a strange light from beneath his skin before you held it along your fingers.

When he blinked, you had an entire copy of his body in the palm of your hand. A hologram formed of his entire artificial makeup. Every crevice of his body, all of the metal that weaved to make him who he was.

All of it in your hand, with puppet strings attached.

It was missing just his head.

He froze. And then, he rushed out a simple, “what did you do?”

You tapped on his holographic arm on the screen. “Hijacked.”

When you moved it, his arm twitched to life.

Against his will, he pulled the gun from his holster and dropped it to the floor. It clattered uselessly onto the carpet.

He could only simply stare as his body moved against his will. There was no way to even twitch a finger with all his might.

It was like you had shut down all of his systems and replaced them with your own.

He should’ve seen this coming.

You whistled as you studied the model of him in your hands. When you tapped onto his neck, it zoomed in to show every single wire and thread of metal, as well as an accompanying string of coding.

“I don’t need any special enhancements to read you. What sort of cyborg comes in alone to try and stop me? You know who I am, don’t you?”

He wasn’t able to move his body. He said not a word.

“Somebody clearly doesn’t understand their body.” You patted his chest. His fans had kicked in. You could hear them whirring.

He was glaring at you.

“Did the IPC send you?”

After a moment, he scoffed. “Hardly. I don’t work for those… people.” It seemed like he wanted to say something else, but decided against it.

“Huh.” You didn’t think he was lying. “So… you’re not concerned about my bounty?”

“You said yourself you were priceless,” he countered easily. Despite his position, he was still grinning. “And besides, I’m sure my bounty is heaps bigger than yours.”

You almost snapped. He’d come to gloat, even at a disadvantage.

“You look better with your mouth shut,” you spat. You shoved the lining of code in his face for him to see, making the holographic blue screen as large as you possibly could. “I could make you tear yourself apart. I could make you forget who you are. I could alter whatever sort of brain you have in there. Watch yourself.”

Still glaring, but this time his lips sealed almost instantly.

You made him stand ram rod straight as you turned around, now eyeing a golden vanity next to the bed. The bedroom was surprisingly clean, save for a few empty glasses strewn about. No stains, no messes.

You sat down in the chair and angled the mirror so you could keep your eye on him.

You breathed out, trying not to stare at him for too long. You could feel your irritation growing, and it was showing on your face. If you stared at him for any longer, you feared you’d pull his limbs off with your own bare hands.

You fished out the powder from your purse and leaned closer to the mirror.

Maybe if you looked better, you’d feel better.

“You’re seriously dollin’ yourself up right now?” he asked, briskly annoyed.

You dabbed the sponge beneath your eyes. “Can’t let anyone think I let you put your hands on me. I have standards.”

He had nice hair. You weren’t sure if it was real, though. You weren’t sure if he could even grow hair. He was almost entirely artificial, save for his head.

He didn’t seem to age—his face, at least. You weren’t sure how old he was supposed to be, but his organic skin still looked fresh, as if left untouched and well taken care of.

Maybe it’s because that was all he had left of him.

You snapped the powder shut.

The ranger sneered. “Yeah, yeah. I’d beat you in a fight anyway.”

“‘Course you would,” you answered easily. You pulled a stick of gloss from your bag. You swiped the lipgloss over your lips, fixing it with the tip of your nail. “That’s not what I’m talking about, though.”

You stood from the chair, placing the gloss back in your purse.

“You’d never hit me, would you?”

His face almost lit up with fury.

It was absolutely hilarious.

“You’re so lucky I can't move,” he threatened. ���You wouldn’t recognise your pretty face in the mirror.”

“Such a gentleman.” You stood on the tips of your toes to press your lips to his cheek. You hoped the sticky gloss bothered him, knowing he would be unable to wipe it off of him. You hoped it stained his milky skin a nice glittery bubblegum pink.

You hoped the scent of your perfume lingered on his skin, and he never forgot your name.

“Of course, gorgeous.” That same mocking tone. “Anything for you.”

You held the USB up to his lips. “Open.”

Begrudgingly, he did so.

You slipped the stick past his lips until his teeth caught onto the plastic and held it still.

“You can have it. I already got what I needed anyway.”

You kissed his other cheek for good measure, lingering for a moment before you pulled away. Two pink glittering stains on his face now; perfectly symmetrical.

“I’ll be thinking of you.” And that you would. You winked at him. “Bye, Boothill.”

Then, with sudden grid lines of yellow forming over your figure, the locator beacon buzzed to life, and you disappeared.

In the blink of an eye, you were outside in the cold night air. There were few people out in the front garden of the building, and none had spotted you.

You picked up the gadget and quickly left. A copy of his body and the USB were now a collection in your own personal belongings.

As soon as you vanished, Boothill regained control of his limbs and fell to the floor, trembling with the after effects of your invasion. His teeth were gritted as he pulled himself up onto the guest bed.

He spat the USB out before he could bite down and damage it.

He held it between his thumb and index finger.

There was a smear of your lipgloss on the side of the USB stick.

Mission accomplished, he supposed.

He also had two matching lipgloss stains on his skin as a trophy. He could see how stupid he looked in the vanity mirror.

He snickered with clenched, shaking fists.

You smelled like strawberry.

[yaekiss]

#Mailroom Open!- Hello, I would like to request a love letter for Alhaitham. NSFW and Yandere response please, and any pet names work but if you could use Habib that would be great 💖 (I hope I did this right)

_______________________

"To my favorite feeble scholar,

I hope this letter is finding you well! I have arrived safely in Fontaine and haven't known a moment of peace since I have arrived. The chaotic cocktail of getting settled into a new city, preparing for this research project, and missing home makes me yearn for the simpler times spent in Sumeru.

Especially my time spent with you.

Thats enough of my lamenting, how fare things with you back home? Have you finally shaken the title of acting Grand Sage yet? Is Kaveh being too much of a "menace"? (Also, please let him know his mother says hello and sends her best wishes to you both). Regardless, I hope you are taking care yourself. Archons know I can't ensure you are eating well while I'm nations away. I will just have to trust that you are treating yourself with the same kindness I would extend to you.

On the topic of kindness, I have a gift for you attached to this letter. I know while I am here doing my research for the next six months we won't be able to have our usual meetings at Lambad's to discuss books over good food, but I hope these books will entertain you well during my absence.

I'm eagerly counting down the days until I can see you again. I find myself thinking of you often and it is a truly vexing experience to see you on whim like I would do so before. It makes the days seem to drag on even longer, but I pray time will fly by regardless of this.

-Sincerely, your wayward scholar

[In a simply decorated box, there are three books: one is on the topic on Fontaine's hydro transportation system and infrastructure, the second is about the complexities surrounding Fontaine's judicial system, and lastly is an infamous and popular erotica anthology from Fontaine (think the Karma sutra but French)]

꩜ Letter Content: Dom! GN! Reader x Yan! Sub! Alhaitham, Alhaitham calls you "habib", lightly implied abuse of power, unhealthy possessive and obsessive relationship from Alhaitham, mentions of sex toys, lmk if I missed out anything ! ꩜ Delivery Notes: He tipped me extra and requested me to be extra careful with the delivery so I'll hand it over to you directly instead of leaving it at your door as per usual procedure! ꩜ Wanna write a love letter yourself? Check out it out here!

There’s a knock at your door when you’re relaxing in your room, opening it shows a hotel staff member who passes you a delivery. And it doesn’t take a genius to know it’s from your beloved feeble scholar.

Alhaitham sends you a simple package, nothing too gaudy or showy, just a few accents of turquoise to denote who the sender is. It’s secure and durable, perfect for weathering long and bumpy trips. 

When you open up the package, you find a few gifts he carefully arranged so that nothing would be broken if the contents were jostled around a little too hard. Gingerly, you lift out a lacquered box which reveals a set of headphones and a music player that’s almost identical to the one he owns. It rests in its cushioned groove in the box with the colours of the device matching your favourites instead of the shades of green on his set.

There’s a small note attached to the music player, “In case you ever miss me too much, you’ll have my voice as background noise for your moping, habib.” On the back of it, he’s written something akin to a track list. Flicking through the different audio files for a quick sample, you realise there’s one for every mood. Tracks with words of encouragement (...or as encouraging as someone like Alhaitham can get), ones scolding you for overworking. There’s even a really cute one where he softly hums a love song that both of you adore, his voice low and soothing. However, the best track of all might be the one where you get to hear his grunts and moans, as if he were right next to your ear in person. The sounds are so sinful and wet, you could just picture him grinding on his dildo, trying to reach his peak. And the way he pitifully breaths out a “I c-can’t cum witho- AH! -without you!” has you yearning for him yet again.

Taking the headphones off before you get too carried away, you retrieve his letter in the package. The envelope is the one from his Grand Sage office, not that he ever really uses them for work purposes. Inside it, his reply is written on parchment, the kind that’s provided for him due to his high position once again. His handwriting is as tidy as ever, the font and formatting standardised throughout the letter. His reply reads:

“Reply for: My springtime sublimity,

I was wondering when you were going to write back to me. After all, there’s no way you would’ve forgotten me in the midst of your research or from meeting someone new, right? Regardless, you have not left my mind since your departure and I’m sure it’s the same for you too habib. 

Do let me know if the gifts are to your liking. I’ve managed to recreate my headphones and they will definitely be useful in blocking out anyone else who might be getting on your nerves or when you’re trying to focus on your research. I included my latest read in the package as well. I'd like for us to discuss our thoughts on the book, even if it’ll have to be done over pen and paper. I’m eager to hear your thoughts on it.

There’s also no reason for me to answer whether I’ve managed to resign from my title as Grand Sage, as evident from the envelope and parchment used. I simply have an unfortunate one last thing to wrap up before I can do so.

Moving on, habib, you know Kaveh is always a menace. I relayed his mother’s well wishes to him earlier and he just smiled. Now he’s locked himself in his room. I never have any idea what’s in that mind of his. It’ll be a miracle if I don’t have to drag him out before he starves. Although I must ask, since when were you privy to Kaveh’s background? I don’t recall him bringing it up around us. Habib, just how close are you to him? How close has he gotten to you? Do write back to me and explain.

Now, this is where I must thank you for your gifts. They all have proven to be succinct and informative. However, I must comment on the choice of one of the books. My, I knew you were lewd before, but to send me an erotica anthology habib? Though, I never said I minded it. I am simply inspired, that's all. Perhaps, you should come back sooner and we can try some of the positions referenced in it. In the meantime, habib, I can only pleasure myself with toys, although, they’re nothing in comparison to you. I’m addicted to you, the caress of your hands on my skin, how only you can make me shudder and cry out your name. You have me wrapped around your finger.

I crave you desperately, habib. There are so many words I could use to describe you with my extensive vocabulary, but the most fitting one would be blossoming. You’ve managed to sow all these emotions in me and now that they’re blooming, you’ll take responsibility right? I’ve always been logical but the degree of affection I feel for you is irregular, all-encompassing and ever-growing. Almost as if you’re twisting the very essence of my mind, rotting and changing me from the inside out. It matches in a way, spring being the season of rebirth.

This letter has gotten too long, I will end it off here habib. I trust you will stay safe and return in one piece unharmed. I await your reply.

May your days be peaceful,

- Alhaitham -”

Setting his letter back in the package, you pick up the book he entrusted to you. Flipping through the pages, it’s littered with markings and annotations from the scribe, he even wrote some questions for you to ponder over. “What do you think about this point?” “Why would the author write this in?” But there are a few unrelated… unsettling annotations that you probably shouldn’t dwell on for too long such as, “Do you know just how much I miss you?” or “How were you able to corrupt my reason and rationality to this extent?” These annotations were left in here for a reason, Alhaitham is a smart man, a renowned member of the Haravatat. There’s a message behind his carefully selected words, waiting for you to unearth it before it festers and decays into something even worse.

Lastly, written neatly on the inside of the back cover, is a puzzling riddle, each word written in a different ancient script. After deciphering the question, an unpleasant awareness worms its way into your mind.

It reads, “Would you still extend your same kindness to me after realising what I would do for you?”

Thanks for reading! Consider supporting me on kofi if you enjoyed this or check out my other works hehe ♡

[redrose10]

Chapter 3 is here! Next chapter in a few days!

Yoongi X Female Reader. CEO/Arranged Marriage AU

Summary: You were selected to marry the wayward CEO/Billionaire/Heir, Min Yoongi. You went into it with an open mind and heart determined to try and make it work. Yoongi on the other hand had no intention of ever letting you in let alone allowing himself to fall in love with you. Slowly you start to associate the smell of cinnamon and vanilla with the feelings of hurt and sorrow.

Word Count: 3,609

Warnings: (May get updated as chapters progress): Arranged marriage, cheating/infidelity, hints of smut (Probably won’t get very explicit but we’ll see how it goes), Sexual Assault, Brief mentions of death, Reader grew up an orphan, General Angst, Swearing

In no way were you going to to cry in front of a couple hundred strangers. You decided to focus in on a bouquet of flowers that were just behind Yoongi’s head to try and distract yourself. A beautiful set of blue hydrangeas. You chose to ignore the words that were being spoken by the minister standing between the two of you. Instead your thoughts were brought back to being seven years old and laying in your Aunts back yard on her swing while she read the newspaper. The hydrangea bush next to you was in full bloom providing an intoxicating scent and a beautiful hue of purples and blues. Your aunt gently stroked your hair while she told you about some recipe that was listed in the paper, asking you if you thought she should try it for dinner one day. It was one of the last times you remember feeling genuinely happy and at peace and loved.

You’re brought out of your trance after you hear the officiant whisper your name. Yoongi is looking at you with one eyebrow raised. The officiant speaks again, “Y/N, do you take Yoongi as your husband now and forever?” Unable to speak you nod your head and the ring is placed on your finger. A few more words were spoken and then you were welcomed to share your first kiss as husband and wife.

You’d be lying if you said you’d never thought about what it would be like to kiss Yoongi. You wondered how this would go. Should you take his hand? Will he caress your face? Does he even want to kiss you? Moments later he leaned in. The scent of cinnamon and vanilla stronger than ever. Briefly he looked into your eyes and you saw something different. Not the usual disgust or indifference. His eyes showed that he was nervous. Maybe even scared. Before you could think there was a quick touch of your lips and then he backed away leaving you wanting more. He grabbed your hand dragging you down the aisle behind him while the crowd cheered and congratulated you both. Maybe you were seeing things but you swear you saw the tiniest bit of pink brush across his cheeks.

Afterwards the guests were ushered into the reception area to enjoy cocktails and appetizers while Yoongi and yourself were whisked away to take photos. The sweet photographer tried her hardest to make it seem like there was a lot of love and admiration between the two of you. However no matter how hard she tried the atmosphere was anything but that. Thankfully the photo session was over quickly and it was time to begin the reception. Dinner was served and then after a couple of speeches guests were encouraged to hit the dance floor to celebrate. Mr. And Mrs. Min paraded you around introducing you to a bunch of people whom you assumed were very important to their empire based on how they talked you up. After what felt like an eternity they excused themselves and you were left alone for the first time since the morning. That’s when you realized that you hadn’t seen Yoongi in quite a while. Scanning the room you couldn’t catch any sight of him. Curious as to what he was up to you started wondering the halls which may have been your biggest mistake of the evening.

Making your way down a dimly lit hall, the carpeting muffling the sound of your heels, you were startled when a door a few feet in front of you swung open and a disheveled looking Yoongi came stumbling out. His hair was a mess and you watched as he finished zipping up his black dress pants and then adjusted his belt to the correct position. He was closely followed by the same blond from the earlier ceremony stumbling as she finished pulling up the top of her barely there dress.

You felt a burning sensation in your throat and tears forming in your eyes. It was suddenly hard to breathe as if you were being smothered. You knew he wasn’t going to be the picture perfect husband but you didn’t think he would cheat on you and at your wedding reception of all places.

Quickly you turned and made your way back to the party area not noticing the way Yoongi looked after you.

Realizing that you needed some air you found the nearest exit door and stepped out onto the terrace. The cool air feeling good on your flushed skin and in your lungs. You felt like the last little bit of hope you had at a happy marriage was just crushed. Trying to take a few deep breaths to calm yourself you were interrupted when you heard the latch of the door click open.

“Y/N”

Turning around you faced Yoongi standing by the door. Hands in his pockets. Unreadable expression on his face. It looked like he had fixed his hair since it was no longer sticking up all over the place and was back to laying down styled like nothing had ever happened. Without saying a word you turned back around to stare out at the city below you. A strong breeze blew through the air putting you into a deep shiver. Seconds later you were wrapped in warmth. You were hit with a familiar smell. Cinnamon and vanilla. Noticing the black fabric draped around your shoulders you realized that Yoongi had placed his suit coat around you to try and bring you some warmth and protection from the chill in the air. Twenty minutes ago the gesture would’ve caused your heart to explode. But thinking back to Yoongi walking out of the room with that woman making it clear as to what they had done, probably while he was wearing this same suit jacket, you felt dirty having it touching you.

“Y/N, I know this isn’t ideal. That this isn’t how we had imagined our lives going so I don’t mind if you want to see other people behind closed doors. We just have to put on an act for the public but when no one’s watching you’re free to do whatever you want.”

You replayed his words in your head. Was he trying to clear his conscience because he knows he got caught? Maybe feels a little guilty and will feel less guilty if he knows you’re also out cheating on him? Does he think that he’s being kind towards you by doing this? You couldn’t stop the laugh that left your mouth. Shaking off his jacket and letting it land on the ground, not caring how expensive it was, you looked up at him and held up your left hand to show the wedding ring that hasn’t even been on your finger for a full eight hours yet.

“I can’t. I’m married and I’m not a disgusting, low down, uncaring, selfish, ignorant, cheating, loser, asshole like you Min Yoongi. You better not get caught either. It’s in your end of the contract.”

With that you turned and walked into the reception area taking a seat at the wedding table and downing your glass of champagne and also Yoongi’s that was sitting next to it. You have no idea where all that came from but it felt good. You snuck a peak out of the tall glass window to see Yoongi still standing there, hands in his pockets, mouthing something to himself before turning back to look out at the city below.

You groaned when your alarm went off the next morning. Why did you agree to a 6am flight again? Slowly you rolled yourself out of bed trying not to wake the loudly snoring figure next to you. You forgot just how cute Jimin looked while he was sleeping. All curled up in a ball with a deep pout on his lips.

Of course you didn’t spend your wedding night with your new husband. Especially not after the events at the reception. You and Yoongi were supposed to share a night in the biggest hotel suite in Seoul but you knew there was no way you could face him. After your little outburst on the terrace the rest of the reception was even more awkward especially having to share your first dance with him. You spent most of the dance staring down at the ground blaming it on having two left feet and not wanting to step on Yoongi’s expensive dress shoes but you and him both knew why you couldn’t look him in the eyes. The night ended with you spotting Yoongi standing in the corner talking to one of his business partners when your favorite blond woman walked over handing him a piece of paper with what was surely her phone number on it before giving him a kiss on the cheek and walking off. There was no way you were going to be stuck in a room with him after all of that.

Thankfully Jimin had planned ahead booking himself a room at the same hotel figuring he’d be too drunk to get himself home at the end of the night. You jumped in the shower letting the hot water soothe your sore muscles. Once you were thoroughly cleaned you put on some light makeup and a comfy outfit. Today you and Yoongi were heading off to your honeymoon. A week spent on a tropical island. You didn’t mind the ocean but you really hated the hot humid weather. The sand that got everywhere. The guaranteed sunburn no matter how careful you were. Yoongi had asked where you wanted to honeymoon. You’d always wanted to stay in a cabin in the Swiss Alps during the winter. Something was always so comforting about the snow. The cold feeling invigorating and refreshing. You imagined sipping a mug of hot chocolate by the fire place while wrapped in a blanket. Maybe going for a walk and taking in the beautiful scenery. With Christmas just around the corner there’d probably be lots of decorations. Yoongi had nodded at your request like he was accepting of it so you were shocked when he told you that your honeymoon would be taking place in Fiji, somewhere that is the complete opposite of what you had asked for. But at this point what could you really expect from him.

All of your bags were packed before the wedding so you just threw in some last minute essentials before zipping up the last one. You didn’t have to take much. Just a duffel bag and a carry on for your makeup and important items. Growing up without having much you learned that you didn’t need much to be happy. Walking over to the bed you quickly realized that trying to wake Jimin up from his hangover induced coma was going to be useless so you placed a kiss to his forehead and grabbed your bags heading out the door.

You were startled when you opened the door finding Yoongi with his hand raised as he was just about to knock.

“Oh sorry. I didn’t expect to see you there.”, you said hand clutching at your chest.

He hands you over a warm to go cup. “I texted Jimin to ask him what your usual coffee order is but he never responded so I got you a vanilla latte. It seemed like a safe choice for you.”

You gave him a tight lip smile and took the cup from him. Truthfully you weren’t much of a coffee drinker but the fact that he actually put effort into something made your heart twist a little and some caffeine in your system wouldn’t hurt right now either. Gently you shut the door behind you and began to walk down the hall when you heard someone mumbling your name by the elevators. When you turned you were greeted by a young man. The poor thing looked like he was being crushed by the weight of all the luggage he was carrying as he desperately tried to keep everything together. Once you looked into his eyes you immediately recognized him as one of Yoongi’s interns, Jungkook. You’d met him a couple times and he was always very sweet and polite.

“Mrs. Min, let me take your bags for you.”, he said reaching out for the duffle bag in your hand.

You chuckled, “Oh no it’s okay. It looks like you’ve got your hands full already. Plus I’m definitely capable of carrying a couple bags down to the car.” Taking another sip of your coffee you waited for the elevator to arrive. Once the familiar ding of the bell sounded the doors opened and you stepped onto the platform making room for Yoongi and Jungkook. You couldn’t help but notice that Jungkook seemed a little less frazzled and Yoongi was carrying one of his own bags now. A small smile crept onto your face at the thought that maybe your words struck a nerve with him.

The car ride to the airport was mostly silent until Yoongi cleared his throat, “I waited for you to come to the room last night. I wanted to talk about things.” You continued to look out the window as the you passed by the buildings before responding, “I figured you’d be busy and didn’t want to be in the way of anything.”

Before Yoongi could speak the driver announced your arrival at the airport. You’d never been on a private plane before. The only plane you’d ever even been on was the one you took to South Korea and that definitely wasn’t private so it was nice. The plane ride and the following drive to the resort remained pretty much silent minus the occasional question or statement.

The suite at the resort was of course luxurious. You stepped out onto the balcony and were immediately hit with a wave of the heat and humidity that you hated so much. But you did have to admit that the view was stunning. Crystal clear water. White sand. Palm trees and tropical flowers wherever you looked.

Walking back into the cool air conditioning you took a look around the room and felt a sudden rise in your body temperature. The cause of this-The one king bed staring back at you. Normally a couple on their honeymoon wouldn’t think twice about sharing a bed but you and Yoongi had an odd situation. He must’ve noticed your new concern because you heard him chuckle from the other side of the room.

“We’re adults Y/N and we’re married. We can share a bed for a week.”

All you could muster was a nod and a tight lipped smile. Part of you wondered if this meant he’d keep his hands off of other women on this trip. Or maybe the two of you would finally-

“I’m heading out Y/N. Don’t wait up.”, he said and you looked over watching him grab his room key and head out the door not even looking back. Of course, you sighed.

Not wanting to leave the room you ordered yourself some room service and called it an early night. When you woke up the following morning you felt more refreshed than you had in a long time. It was definitely the comfiest hotel bed you’d ever slept in. You began to feel slight movement next to you and that’s when you remembered that you were on a honeymoon with your husband.

The movements stopped so you thought it was safe to take a peak. Yoongi had stayed as far on his side as he could. Looking over you once again admired how handsome he truly was. If you didn’t know what kind of person he was you’d definitely have a huge crush on him. Maybe you did anyways. He was still in his clothes from earlier. He smelled like a brewery with a hint of that familiar cinnamon and vanilla scent.

He must’ve gone out drinking all night and came back at some point while you were asleep. You weren’t sure if you were relieved he came back at all or upset that he spent the first night of your honeymoon downing whiskey at some bar. The forever comforting person in you didn’t want him to catch a cold from the air conditioning that you had set on full blast so you tried your best to shimmy the blanket up to his shoulders to cover him and that’s when you noticed it. Right on his neck just below his ear. A kiss of red lipstick stared back at you like a forbidden tattoo. Curiosity getting the best of you and knowing that he was still too out of it to notice you gently tugged down the collar of his tshirt revealing what you had feared. Several more kisses of the same color lipstick painted his chest along with a couple love bites. Feeling like you were going to be sick you quickly ran to the bathroom shutting the door behind you.

After a long hot shower and taking your time getting ready you finally felt like you could face the world. Yoongi was sitting on the edge of the bed his head in hands clearly feeling the effects of the night before. He heard the jingle of your purse and looked over noticing you standing there in your pink sundress with the sunglasses to match. He thought it was cute how you always tried to accessorize your outfit with something matching in color.

Your original plan was to ask him to come have breakfast with you and then see if he wanted to go to the beach. Even if you hated it you were still going to try and make the most of this trip. But after this morning you don’t want to be in the same room with him. Silently you walked out the door letting it shut behind you and made your way down to the resort cafe.

The next few days were spent the same. You and Yoongi spent most of the day doing your own thing until he’d stumble into bed at some point during the night. You didn’t even bother looking for any signs of what he did out there. At this point you didn’t want to know.

On the last night you decided to treat yourself to a nice dinner out. Yoongi had been gone all day and you knew he wasn’t going to spend the evening with you anyways. The food was incredibly delicious and you had a really nice time with the waiter, Hoseok. He was like a big ray of sunshine and for that one dinner you were able to forget everything that had been happening. The two of you exchanged numbers so you could get together for lunch next time he visited his parents in Korea. As you were walking back to your room you came across two people all over each other in the hallway. The man’s hands were slowly going farther up the shirt of the brunette he was with. Soft moans could be heard between the two of them. Normally you’d be pretty off put that two people would be so open in public but you were happy that someone was getting intimacy. You were craving any sort of touch and these two just made you want it more.

That was until the woman accidentally dropped her purse and bent down to retrieve it revealing the man that she was with. Yoongi looked at you with his classic unreadable expression. The woman standing back up realized you were now present. She was understandably confused as to why you were waiting right there.

“Oh I’m sorry. Is this your room?”, she asked looking back at Yoongi for an explanation.

Deep down you had thought he’d tell the truth. Let her know that you were his wife and he was caught. That she needed to leave. That this was your honeymoon. That he wouldn’t bring another women into your hotel room while you were there with them. Instead he just sighed,

“Yeah this is my sister Y/N. She’s sharing a room with me unfortunately.”

You felt your heart crack. The woman looked a little shocked pulling away, “Oh I’m so sorry. Maybe we should continue this elsewhere.”

You watched the smirk spread across Yoongi’s face, “Nah she won’t mind. Right Y/N?” In your head you screamed, “Yeah of course I mind. You’re my husband and you expect me to just sit there while you fuck some other woman.” But instead you gently shook your head and watched as Yoongi pulled the woman back into the room with him kissing her as he went.

You stood there and watched the door slam shut. The faint scent of cinnamon and vanilla the only thing remaining in the hall with you. You couldn’t do it. You couldn’t sit in that room with them. So instead you made your way down to the lobby. At this time of night all the restaurants were closing up and you weren’t much for the bar scene so you grabbed a water bottle from a vending machine and walked out to the beach to wait it out. Once you felt you had a safe spot chosen you took a seat down in the sand. As you stared up at the sky you felt the exhaustion taking over your body. Slowly you laid back allowing the warm sand and the sound of the ocean waves to lull you off to sleep. The smell of the salty air a welcoming change to the cinnamon and vanilla that was slowly driving you crazy.

[hearts-hunger]

four weddings and a funeral — part one

Read on AO3 | Masterlist | Series Playlist ♫

Series Summary: You and Danny haven't spoken in years. When the two of you stumble upon a week of weddings, funerals, and the hotel rooms in between, will fate rekindle your friendship or put the old flames out altogether?

Chapter Summary: The last place you ever expected to see him again was a funeral.

Pairings: Danny Wagner x Reader | Genres: friends to lovers, slow burn, fluff, mutual pining | Word Count: 3.6k | Chapter Warnings: smoking, drinking, funerals

A/N: Danny's cabin fic! The real one! I'm hoping this one goes better than Wild and Blue - I'm sorry again for abandoning it, but I hope this one makes up for it. Also, this fic has nothing to do with the movie of the same title; I haven't seen it, and I just liked the idea of social events pushing a couple together. I hope you like it, my loves! ♡

Of all the places to be without a lighter, you decided this was one of the worst.

You fished around in your little crossbody bag, already knowing you didn’t have one but hoping you’d get lucky. The American Spirit between your lips was stained with the most neutral lipstick you could find; you figured there was no use looking glamorous for a funeral, and you’d gone for an understated look when dressing in your plain black cocktail dress earlier.

You gave a frustrated huff. You hated funerals, and you’d only gone to this one because your mom hadn’t wanted to make the drive alone. The visitation service was for the relative of a friend of hers from years ago; you didn’t even know her name. You’d made sure your mom was settled talking about the good old times with a few of her friends before you’d stepped out to get a little nicotine in your system.

But, no lighter, no luck. You abandoned your search, leaning on the railing of the gazebo that stood on a hill out behind the funeral home.

You hadn’t been standing there two seconds before cigarette smoke wafted past you, and you frowned in confusion. Looking down, you saw someone standing at the foot of the gazebo, leaning back against the post. He held a lit cigarette in his hand.

“Hey!” you called.

He tilted his head back and looked up at you from under a mop of curly brown hair. 

“Hey yourself.”

“Can I borrow your lighter?” you asked. You came down the stairs and around to the side where he stood without waiting for an answer, and he held his lighter out for you without protest.

“Thank you,” you said, returning it to him and taking a drag. You felt a brief sensation of butterflies when your hand brushed his; he was young, about your age, and almost too pretty to be somewhere so ordinary.

“You’re a lifesaver,” you said.

He chuckled. “No problem.” He took a long drag and exhaled through his nose. “Needed a break from all the fun inside, huh?”

You gave a wry smile. “Yeah, I guess. I’m not a huge fan of funerals.”

He raised a brow. “No? That’s strange. Most people love them.”

“Okay,” you conceded, and you couldn’t help but smile when he gave a soft laugh. There was something oddly familiar about him, though you didn’t have the faintest idea where you could have seen him before.

“Were you close with... uh, the deceased?” you asked. You felt bad that you couldn’t remember her name and felt heat rise to your face. “My mom was friends with the family years ago, so I’m kinda just here for moral support.”

He brushed a wayward curl back from his face. 

“Her name was Janet Baker,” he said. “She was a really old lady who lived a good, long life, so it’s not so terrible to see her go. She was ready.”

“Did you know her well?” you asked.

He shrugged. “She was a friend of my grandparents’. My mom spent a lot of time with her. I didn’t really know her, I guess, but it’s nice to see how many people loved her.”

You hummed in agreement. “That is nice.” You finished your cigarette and looked around for a place to throw it out. Your mystery friend held out his hand.

“There’s an ashtray up by the back door,” he said. “I’ll take yours when I take mine.”

“Oh,” you said, putting it in the palm of his hand. “Thank you.”

You looked up at him. “I didn’t even introduce myself before I accosted you for a lighter,” you said with a nervous smile. “I’m — ”

“I know who you are, sunshine.”

You blinked. You couldn’t remember the last time somebody had called you that. It had been over a decade, certainly, and in fact the only person who ever had called you that was a skinny thirteen year old boy who lived down the street from you when you were in eighth grade.

“Danny?” you asked, incredulous.

He grinned, flashing that millionaire smile he’d had even when you were kids. “Yep.”

You stepped back and shamelessly looked him over head to toe, all six-and-some-odd feet of him. He spread his arms and did a twirl for you.

“Not too bad, huh?” he asked.

You almost didn’t know what to say. You’d always figured he’d be a good looking boy, but seeing him now — he’d grown into that lankiness, all broad and strong and lean. His curls were bouncy and healthy, streaked with blonde highlights; his features were dark, defined, and beautiful.

“Uh, no,” you said stupidly. “You look... great.”

His smile was a little crooked. “You’re not too bad yourself, sunshine.”

You were surprised at the flood of butterflies you felt. You’d had a crush on him all those years ago, and it seemed that it had grown up with you.

“I’m sorry I didn’t recognize you,” you said. Granted, it was kind of bizarre to run into him again after all these years, especially at a funeral.

He shrugged. “That’s okay. I’ve actually been trying to look as different from middle-school me as possible, so I’m glad it’s working.”

You laughed. “I can understand that.”

He shook his head. “No way. You were always going to be beautiful, sunshine. Even back then.”

You blushed vividly, a surprised and nervous giggle escaping you. “Oh, well, I don’t know about that. But thank you.”

His smile was too genuine and warm for him to be teasing you, and you allowed yourself to enjoy his compliment. You couldn’t let yourself get too far down the rabbit hole, though; you were in a place in your life where you’d be likely to take any attention that was offered, even if it wasn’t in your best interest.

You smoothed your hands over your skirt and tried to think of something intelligent to say. You’d almost settled on something when you felt a drop of rain on your shoulder; you looked up towards the darkening sky and felt a few more drops on your face.

“It’s raining,” you said.

You looked back at Danny to see him watching you with a gentle, decidedly interested gaze.

“Do you want to go back inside?” he asked.

You were a little lost in his pretty hazel eyes. Had they always been that dreamy?

“No,” you said. “I...”

All of a sudden, the heavens opened; rain came fast and heavy, and you would have been drenched if Danny hadn’t grabbed your hand and ran with you around the side of the gazebo and up the stairs. You stopped, a little breathless and damp, under the shelter of the roof while rain poured down around you.

You brushed your wet hair from your face. “It sure is a gullywasher, huh?”

He laughed, and the sound was sweet and musical. “A what?”

You smiled. “A gullywasher,” you said. “A heavy rain that usually doesn’t last that long.”

“I’ve never heard that before,” he said, amused. “But I’m filing it away for future use.”

“I’m pleased to be of service,” you said. The two of you made your way to a bench on the opposite side of the gazebo. “I teach vocabulary for a living, though, so I’m afraid I’m going to have to charge you for that information.”

He raised a brow. “Is that so?” He angled himself towards you on the bench. “And just how much does that word cost, sunshine?”

You smirked. “Give me a swig of whatever’s in that flask you’re hiding, and we’ll call it even.”

“Me, hiding alcohol at a funeral?” he said, aghast. He pulled the flask you’d noticed earlier out of his inside jacket pocket as he spoke. “Do you always assume the worst about people, or am I just special?”

“Whichever one makes you feel better,” you said, taking a drink when he offered it to you. The oaky sweet taste of bourbon spread a pleasant warmth through you that warded off the chill of the rain.

“So, you said you teach vocabulary for a living,” he said, taking the flask when you handed it back and having a drink of his own. “Does that mean you’re a teacher? Or some kind of weird freelance vocabulary tutor?”

You smiled. “I’m a teacher. Elementary school.”

“That’s great,” he said sincerely. “I bet your students love you. How long have you been teaching?”

The two of you talked for a long while as the rain continued unabated, passing the flask back and forth occasionally. He was eager to hear about your life since you’d parted on the cusp of high school, and you found him a more attentive and interested listener than most of the guys you’d ever tried to tell your life story to.

“Enough about me, though,” you said, when you couldn’t think of one more interesting thing to say about your job or your tiny apartment or your failed and infrequent attempts at dating. “I want to know what you’ve been up to, Danny.”

He looked a little bashful, then, and it endeared him to you.

“Well, you remember how I was always messing around with my garage band?” he asked.

You smiled. “Yeah. The neighbors loved you guys, turning your speakers up as loud as possible when you were playing.” You’d always liked the rock n’ roll they played, but you’d never been brave enough to ask if you could sit and watch them practice.

“Your bandmates were brothers, weren’t they?” you asked. “What was their last name again?”

“Kiszka,” he said. “The twins, Josh and Jake, and their brother Sam who’s my age.”

“Oh, right,” you said, remembering well the matched trio that had taken up all of Danny’s time that wasn’t spent with you. “Are you still in touch with them?”

“I am,” he said. “We actually play professionally now.”

“Oh, that’s cool,” you said, sincere and polite, figuring playing professionally meant they had a semi-regular gig somewhere local.

His smile was knowing. “You don’t believe me, do you?”

“Sure I do,” you protested. You shivered a little as a cool breeze started to cut through the rain.

“We’re bigger than you think we are,” he said, but he didn’t sound like he was trying to stroke his ego so much as he was trying to convince you of the fact. He shrugged his suit jacket off and draped it over your shoulders. 

“What band would you guess we’re kind of in the same popularity bracket as?” he asked.

You were a little embarrassed at being caught out with what he thought was fake enthusiasm, not wanting to hurt his feelings but still unsure he could be as famous as he claimed to be. Wouldn’t you have known if your childhood friend had made it big?

“I don’t know,” you hedged. You burrowed into his jacket, his warmth and the smell of his cologne a heady mix. “I don’t really listen to the stuff on the radio these days.”

“But you know popular songs,” he pressed. “You don’t live under a rock.”

You shrugged. “I guess.”

“Can I play you one of our songs?” he asked. “Just to see if you’ve ever heard of us?”

You smiled. “Go for it.” You were curious to see if you had ever heard it, but you still held your doubts. His band might have been big in the indie scene or something you had no knowledge of, but that wouldn’t do you much good.

He pulled out his phone, hiding the screen from you so you couldn’t see what he was searching. After a moment, the first few notes of a guitar lick started to play, and you recognized it immediately.

“Ha ha, very funny,” you said, giving him a dry smile. “Now show me your song.”

“This is my song,” he said, looking for all the world to be absolutely serious.

“That’s not your song,” you scoffed. “That’s Greta Van Fleet.” You decided to tease him if he was so intent on teasing you. “And if you don’t show me your song, I’ll just assume you were making the whole thing up to impress me.”

He only laughed. “I hope it did impress you, but I’m not making it up. This is my song. I’m the drummer for Greta Van Fleet.”

You have him a fondly exasperated look, over the joke by now. “Sure. And I’m the lead singer.”

Danny grinned. “That’d be something, wouldn’t it?” He gestured to your bag. “Humor me. Get out your phone and look it up.”

You gave a dramatic sigh and pulled your phone out, googling “Greta Van Fleet members”. The page took a moment to load.

“So?” he asked.

“It’s loading,” you told him.

When the page finally popped up, you had to read it more than once to believe what you saw. There it was, in black and white: Daniel Wagner, dum kit.

“You’re not...” You looked up at Danny. “You’re — you’re really the drummer for fucking... Greta Van Fleet?”

“Minus the ‘fucking’ part,” he said. “We tried to pitch it to the label, but they shot us down.”

You could only laugh. 

“How can you — Danny, how the hell can you be so nonchalant about this? You’re, like, famous famous.”

He chuckled. “I told you. Do you like our music?”

“Yeah,” you said sincerely. “I mean, I’m obviously not a mega fangirl for them, uh, for you, if I didn’t even know your names, but...” You grinned up at him, too charmed by his down-to-earth warmth to feel very starstruck. “I think your music’s some of the coolest stuff to come out since they invented classic rock.”

He smiled. “Thank you, sunshine. That’s sweet of you to say. I’m glad you like it.”

You shivered again, and he reached over and buttoned his jacket around you.

“I’m sorry I don’t have anything else to give you,” he said. “We can go in if you’re too cold.”

“No,” you said, a little too quickly. You blushed. “I mean... I like sitting out here with you.”

He gave a soft laugh. “I like sitting out here with you, too.” He lit another cigarette, leaning his arm on the railing. “So, sunshine, I gotta know... what’s your favorite Greta song?”

“Hm... I’ll have to think about that one,” you said with a teasing smile. “I really like that one everybody says is a Zeppelin rip-off.”

He rolled his eyes with a long-suffering smile. “Which one?”

You laughed. “I think it’s called ‘Flower Power’. It’s very romantic.”

“I wrote the guitar solo for that one, actually.”

Your smile was delighted and surprised. “Did you really? I thought you said you played the drums.”

“I do,” he agreed. “But I know enough about guitar to write some stuff here and there.” He shook his head. “Jake’s an incredible guitarist. He took what I wrote and made it fantastic when we recorded the song.”

You liked the way affection and admiration softened his features. “What do the others play?”

“Sam plays bass and keys,” he said. “He plays piano like nobody I’ve ever seen. Josh — ” He laughed, like he’d remembered an inside joke. “Josh likes to say he plays the vocals.”

You smiled. “So he’s the Robert Plant devotee.”

Danny chuckled. “You should hear his vocals now. It’s really amazing to hear his growth as a vocalist.” He angled his exhale of smoke away from you. “We did mimic a lot of Zeppelin’s style on our first album, and I wouldn’t change it, but I think we’re starting to come into our own sound. It’s exciting to be experimenting with different stuff and figuring out what we like. Our last album went a different direction to what we’d been doing before, that classic rock kind of thing, and I think it turned out really cool.”

“Sure,” you said, a little dreamy. There was something so alluring about the sound of his voice, the interest in his expression when he spoke. You felt that he could be reading a phone book and you’d be invested in it.

“You’re very polite to listen to me go on and on about it,” he said, sincerity and warmth in his tone. “I must be boring you to tears.”

“Not at all,” you said, shaking yourself out of your dreaminess. You felt your cheeks warm. “I’m sorry. I’m just... still reeling from the fact that we bumped into each other after so long, and that you turned into a rock star since I last saw you.” That was partially true, anyway. You wouldn’t spill that you’d been daydreaming about what it would feel like to kiss him for longer than was strictly appropriate.

The corners of his eyes crinkled as he smiled. “Maybe it’s fate that we met again,” he said. “What do you think?”

You didn’t say that it would be just the kind of cruel trick fate would play on you to bring you back the guy you’d always crushed on and have him turn out to be a rock n’ roll god that women threw themselves at in every city.

“Maybe it is,” you said with a smile.

“We should keep in touch after this, so we can stay up to date on major life changes.”

You breathed a laugh. “Yeah. I’ll give you a call when I play Madison Square Garden.”

Danny put out his cigarette and looked out towards the funeral home where people were starting to gather out on the porch. The rain was beginning to taper off; ladies in their shiny black shoes were starting to brave the wet grass to get to their cars.

“Looks like people are starting to leave,” he said, a hint of regret in his voice. He looked back to you. “I was serious about getting your number, if you’d like to share it with me. I’ve had a great time catching up with you.”

“Me too,” you said. You put your number in his phone when he handed it to you, and your fingers brushed again when you handed his phone back.

You stood, and you had the strangest feeling of something slipping through your fingers.

“Hey, Danny,” you said, hesitant. He watched your face with patience and interest and waited for you to continue.

“I don’t know how long you’re in town,” you said, nervously fidgeting with a pull in the skirt of your dress. “You probably have somewhere to jet off to, thousands of adoring fans to see...”

He gave a soft laugh, and it gave you a little spark of bravery as you looked up and met his eyes.

“Do you want to get coffee or something this week?” you asked. “I’m off on spring break, and... well, I don’t know. It might be nice. Maybe.”

He smiled, but there was something less than happy in it that made your spirits sink.

“I’d love to,” he said, and you almost thought he meant it. “But I do have kind of a busy week — I'm trying to cram as much into this break as possible, you know?”

You nodded. “Right, of course,” you said quickly, trying not to let it show how much you’d really, really wanted him to say yes or of course or let me move around my entire rock-god schedule just to have coffee with you. Something along those lines.

He fidgeted a little, like he was upset he’d hurt your feelings. 

“Let me take a look, okay?” he said, and you hated the thought that he was saying it out of pity instead of any real desire to see you again. “I’ll text you.”

You smiled, but it was a little strained. “Sure.” Stupid, stupid, stupid. Of course the drummer for Greta Van Fleet wasn’t going to get coffee with you. 

“Can I walk you back inside?” he asked.

“Um...” You saw your mom among the people on the porch. She waved at you, and you waved back.

“I should probably just go meet her by the car,” you said to Danny, feeling shy around him for the first time. Shooting your shot and getting let down gently would do that to you. “Thank you, though.”

“Of course,” he said. He walked with you as far as the gazebo steps. “Thanks for talking to me, sunshine. I’m glad you didn’t have a lighter.”

You couldn’t help a soft laugh. “Me too.”

You didn’t look back as you made your way over to the porch, and your mom was excited to see you when you came up to her.

“I see you found Danny,” she said, a beaming smile on her face. “His mom and I talked for a long time inside.”

“Did you know they were going to be here?” you asked, walking with her to your car.

She shook her head. “I had no idea. But it was nice to see them again, wasn’t it?”

You got in the passenger seat and leaned your head against the window. “Yeah, it was nice.”

You were halfway home before you realized you were still wearing Danny’s jacket. You felt terrible; you reached for your phone to text him and saw he’d already texted you.

Hey, you stole my jacket! I guess we’ll just have to meet up so I can get it back ;)

You bit the inside of your cheek, willing yourself not to feel that fluttery warmth that was sneaking its way into your chest at the thought of seeing him again.

Read part two!

danny taglist: @tearsofbri @busybeingtrash @myway-late @gotavansleep

fic taglist: @mydarlingdanny @streamsofstardust

gvf taglist: @malany-gvf @spark-my-nature

@gvfrry @ohhey1293 @the-chaotic-cow @mountain-in-springtime @xserenax-13 @stardustjtk @brooke-gvf @weightofdreams-gvf  @jakeydoesit  @gretasmokerising @hayley1623 @doodle417 @finestoflines @brokenbellz @bowievanfleet @s0livagant @strugglingtodoshit @s-u-t @kay-jordan @gretavanfleas @jakeyboiiiiiii @gretavansteph @gretavanbitches @myownparadise96 @luverleaver @weightofdreamz @greatervanfleet @maedesculpaeusoubi @jakekiszkasbestie @pineapple-photographer @baguettejuliette @alexxavicry @levi-wants-ur-bones  @carlybubs @cowboysamkiszka @dannyandthekiszkas @jordierama

sorry if tumblr didn’t tag you — it’s stupid sometimes. but i’m real thankful for you, sweet peaches! and if you’re a new bestie and would like to be added to my taglist, check out the form right here!

[tawus]

New chapter!

Summary: You're the daughter of an oil magnate and it's the night before your big speech which risks shaking the entire oil industry. The rebel, the wayward offspring, the traitor - that is you.

As you're sipping your cocktail in the lounge bar of your luxury hotel, a handsome stranger sits down opposite you and claims in that distinct East London accent, with those ocean blues on you, that tonight you are going to die.

Fandom: Bullet Train (2022)

Tags: plot-rich, porn with plot, sex pollen, aphrodisiac, drugged sex, poisoning, action, blood & violence, drinking, smoking, dirty talk, dubcon, mirror sex, creampie, hotel sex, fingerfucking, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, gunplay, mental breakdown, strength kink, praise kink, rough sex, guns, shooting, angst & fluff, dom tangerine, protective tangerine

Status: In Progress

Read it here:

• Chapter 1

• Chapter 2

• Chapter 3

• Chapter 4

• Chapter 5

• Chapter 6

• Chapter 7

• Chapter 8

• Chapter 9 >>

[toomanybandstocare]

{Caring Hands}

Program: After months of heartbreak and worry, your roommate takes you out for a night to your old stomping grounds- 79s. A bar that used to hold such fond memories of spending blurry night with your friends of the 501st legion by the side of your riduur, Rex. tonight, it seems the magnetic pull between the two of you is determined to bring you together for one last chance.

Pairing: Ex! Rex x Ex, GN! Reader

Side Pairing: Fives x OC! Kiva

Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Second Chances

Length: 3956w

Warnings: Pet names (Lover, Cya're, Cyar'ika, Riduur), Drinking to the point of being tipsy/drunk, Heartbreak, Swears, Barely edited

Captain's Notes: Hi guys!!!! It's been awhile. Life has been a force (hehe, no pun intended), but I've been really enjoying my rewatch of the Clones Wars series. And I am simply in love with so many of the clones/boys. They make my heart very happy and fuzzy. It's been nice to revisit one of my favorite shows from my childhood, and the fact that Rex is still my favorite character (other than Ahsoka) makes me feel happy and at home.

Camp Resolute's Masterlist

Camper Tags: @staygoldwriting

The soft green and muted yellow lighting envelop you in an intimate atmosphere of buzzing excitement. Music thrums through the air as the 79s’ clientele swirl around the dance floor or wrap themselves around this evening’s partners in booths. As the war invades every nook and corner of the galaxy, the GAR’s unofficial bar offers its services for wayward individuals who look for a semblance of normalcy. A chance to forget the lingering, stale breath of unknown destruction breathing down everyone’s necks. Time stands still at the mercy of drunk shouts of excitement.

“You know,” Kiva drawls as he drags his cocktail’s straw across his lower lip, “going out to bars and clubs is more interesting if you actually speak to people”. His deep, teasing chuckle shudders through you more than the deafening bass.

“You know,” you hum as the tingling sensation of your fifth drink courses through your veins, “going out to bars and clubs is more interesting when you aren’t surrounded by your ex's brothers. Who happen to share extremely similar physical features”. Your voice drips with whiskey and venom.

Leaning onto your white knuckled fist, you down the last few sips of your liquor unable to pull your eyes away from the booth in the alcove corner just past the bar. The unmistakable colors of the 501st and 212th battalions flash under the pulsing lights as troopers recline in the booth or lean over the seat backings to join in on the conversation. Your attention flitted between your roommate and the CO table when the two of you sat yourselves at the bar at the beginning of the night. When you caught sight of hidden smirk and mischievous glint in his amber eyes, you ordered the first round of shots. Your eyes stung from neon lights that lit up the bar area of the tenders to see their work and as you watched Rex pull the beautiful Twi’lek close to his side. His hands palmed her soft curves and pulled her as close as possible. Bile rose up and bit the back of your throat as you threw back another drink. 

As alcoholic cloudiness eases into your system, a sigh pushes past your lips and you turn your gaze to Kiva. His dark eyes look past you as a small half smile grows on face. Blinking at him, you follow his gaze. Leaning against the section divider of the CO table, Fives animatedly speaks to a friend from a different battalion whose armor is decorated in a scratched gray paint.

“You know,” your voice light and airy with its teasing melody, “going out to bars is more interesting if you go speak to people”. You jab your elbow into his arm and signal to the bartender for another drink.

“I’m not going to leave you here, heartbroken and drunk,” his tentacle tresses bounce around as he shakes his head, “Especially, alone. It’s a remarkable phenomena that you’re still able to form a coherent thought at the rate you're consuming spotchka shots”. Taking a sip of his drink, Kiva eyes you, “Besides, I don’t even know him”.

A bubbling giddiness washes through you as you look from Kiva to Fives to your fresh drink in front of you. Tracing a slightly trembling finger around the glass, you take a deep breath. Just because your trooper romance didn’t end how you had hoped doesn’t mean the same will happen for Kiva. Especially if he’s interested in sweet Fives.

“His name is Fives- CT-27-5555, if you want to get technical. But, only his twin is allowed to call him that, so don’t even think about it until he says you can use it” your voice is warm and quiet. It drips with whiskey and sweetens the soft smile you share with Kiva. His shocked expression causes a flurry of giggles from your lips. “He’s an ARC Trooper in the 501st. Too charming for his own good, but he knows exactly what to say at any moment,” you share as you watch Kiva’s lovestruck expression fall back onto your former friend. Taking a slow sip of your drink, a wave of conflicting emotions tumble through you. If you stepped one foot too close to that booth, all eyes would be on you. As much as you wanted to help Kiva, you knew that the night would only end abruptly if you inserted yourself back into the group.

“Doesn’t mean he’s into guys though,” Kiva nervously deflects with a wave of his hand and the last sip of his cocktail.

“Every time I would run into him, he would find a way to ask about you. I don’t think we’ve had a conversation that didn’t somehow include your name since he met you at Hellkai’s birthday party,” you carefully use the leg closest to him to start pushing him off the barstool.

“Wha-what,” Kiva stammers as he slightly stumbles out of his seat.

Before he can protest, you throw both your feet on top of the stool and cross your legs. “I’ll be here when you’re ready to leave. Either with me, or with Fives. Just let me know, and I’ll crash a couch somewhere. Now go have an interesting night,” you exclaim and shove him in the direction of the clones.

With every step Kiva took, the fleeting feeling of happiness seeped out of you. Although you see the nerves bouncing in Kiva as he weaved his way through the mass of tipsy dancers, you know he’ll be in caring hands. When he clears past most of the crowd, you see Fives stand up a little straighter and beam past the other trooper’s shoulder. Like a missing piece of the picture, Kiva finds his place next to Fives. A twist in your stomach tingles as he rests a hand on the back of Fives’ neck. With ease, Fives rests his hand on the small of Kiva’s back, and the tingles flame inside you. When their gazes meet, the coil snaps in you and you tear your stinging eyes away from the touching scene. Good for them. They both deserve happiness.

“You alright there, mesh’la?” a gentle hand rests on your shoulder. With a jolt, you snap your head and are met with a concerned clone. Your breathing becomes heavy as you open your mouth to send him away, but the sight of scratched blue armor with a medic symbol on the shoulder causes your throat to constrict.

“Hey, hey,” Kix slides closer to you and rests his other hand on your cheek, “It’s okay. Just too much to drink tonight, huh? How about some water then? Wait, you- you look familiar.”

“I’m fine,” you croak out and swing your body away from his caring hands to face the bar. You keep your shaking hands around your whiskey glass and watch the iceball water down your only ally in the bar.

“Wait a minute,” his timber voice hummed closer as he slid into the now open stool, “It is you. What- what are you doing here?”

“Don’t worry, Kix. I’m not here to ruin anyone’s fun. Just trying to have my own,” you bitterly chuckle.

“That’s not what I meant,” Kix rests an arm on the bartop and shifts his body closer into your personal space. His usually soft eyes flood with concern as he takes in your appearance. “I- we haven’t seen you in months, mesh’la. Thought you moved planets- kriff, even to a different system. Rex wouldn’t let up any info, so we all thought it was an emergency”.

You’re barely able to keep the choked sob locked behind your grimace as your heart pounds in  your throat. The truth trying to break past your loyal lips. Shrugging, you keep your eyes locked on the flowing lights that twinkle behind all the glass bottles. The cold synthetic material of your glass balances on your lip before you throw it back.

“Enough,” Kix hisses and grabs your wrist to pull the cup away. His look of disbelief causes a twinge of guilt to register in your haze.

“Come one, mesh’la. Let’s get you home,” Kix carefully wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you up. 

Panic stabbing into your skin, you throw some credits onto the bar and try to drag your feet to stop him. “Kix, what are you doing?” you hiss. 

“Making sure nothing bad happens to you. Why were you alone over there? You must have seen us in our usual spot,” Kix looks at you in confusion as the two of you work your way through the throng of dancing bar goers.

“Because,” you try to quickly clear the situation before you are recognized by any other clones, “there’s a reason that Rex didn’t want to talk about me”.

You try to wriggle out of Kix’s hold once you see Kiva and Fives wrapped in each other’s arms. “Seriously, Kix. Leave it alone. You’re doing more harm than good,” you practically beg.

“What are you talking about? Look, even if you and Rex are in a bit of a tricky spot, I can guarantee that you’re his endgame. The man won’t stop talking about you,” Kix sends a genuine smile your way and rubs his thumb in soothing circles on your side.

“Hey, I wasn’t expecting to see you here,” Fives calls both of you over. Kiva straightens up in Fives’ embrace as he watches the two of you walk towards the booth.

You frantically shake your head and try to think of a plausible excuse to get out of this. What was once your safe haven for nights out now spits you deep into enemy territory.

“I thought I said to keep it easy on the drinks,” Kiva chuckles uncomfortably and moves to your other side, “Time to go home, huh?” Slipping his arm around your waist above Kix’s own, Kiva turns to say something to Fives.

“Wait, no. Do you have to,” Fives castes the two of you a sad look. “I didn’t even know you were plantside, and now you try to scurry out in a rush? That’s just rude,” Fives jokes.

“Come join us, mesh’la,” Kix coaxes you, “All the guys have missed you and would be thrilled to catch up. We’ll just get some sodas for the rest of the night”.

“You’re joking. No way in haran that me and Jesse are letting you go home before we start the games,” Fives reaches for your hand as you shake your head so hard, it nearly causes you to tumble over.

“Fives, cya’re, it’s time we go home. This one can’t even stand on their feet,” Kiva tries again and successfully makes one step closer to the exit. Which is one step closer towards Fives and the entrance to the CO booth.

“Cyar’ika, let’s get them in a seat then,” Fives leans into Kiva’s chest to whisper something in his ear. You feel the excited tremble on Kiva's side and another wave of guilt washes over you.

“Guys, come one. I’m fine. Definitely not my worst night out, so I can get home with no issue. Kiva, why don’t you stay here,” you pull away from the group and notice the growing number of glances you’re all attracting.

“Why are you trying to run from us? I thought we were your friends,” Kix’s voice is dry with confusion and hurt.

“We can hang out another time. I promise. I’m just tired. You said it yourself, I’ve had enough for tonight,” you frantically try to deescalate the growing unease in the area as you sway and twist through the crowd.

Not even caring about bumping into other patrons, you focus your attention away from the twisted expression on Kix’s face and the shouts of recognition from the CO table.

You use your elbows to move others out of your way, but the dull, plastoid armor does nothing but bite back at you. Blaster boots and high heels trip you as you lose yourself in the crowd once more. Your heart jumps in time with the rhythm of the song blaring. Sweat sits heavy on your skin as you break free and try to find sight of the exit.

Hallow pants wrack your body from the close proximity of other patrons, but you find the neon blue exit sign for the door. Taking the first step, you continue your trek to fresh air as you narrowly push past another clone and jostle the drink in his hand.

“Watch it,” the gruff voice mumbles.

Two words in a bitter tone are all that cause your blazing body to turn ice cold. He’s supposed to be up in the booth.

“Sorry,” you breathe out.

With a weary look from the corner of his eye, the clone’s stoic expression is broken by shocked realization. “Cyar’ika,” Rex’s voice rumbles.

“I’m just on my way out, so don’t worry about holding back. Okay? It’s all good. Have fun tonight,” you mutter breathlessly and sway a step forward.

“Hey,” Rex gently demands your attention. He twists his body to face you completely and holds out his free arm to catch you from falling.

“Are you-,” Rex looks at you with tense, uncomfortable eyes, “Are you okay? You look-”.

“You don’t get to ask that anymore,” you growl behind gritted teeth. Pushing his arm out of your way, you continue your trek to the exit. You are so close. Just a few more bodies to get past.

“Wait a minute- kriff,” Rex exclaims and gently grasps your arm.

“Stop it,” you hiss, “You’re going to make a scene. Just let me go. Let me go, again.” The final word sits heavy in the air, and Rex’s grip tightens around you for a moment.

“Take this,” Rex mutters, “I’m walking this one home. Too much to drink”. Without a moment to register who he was speaking to, Rex pulls you along to the exit. Not even casting a glance to make sure you could keep up with his determined strides.

Stumbling behind Rex, you can’t find the strength to pull your arm out of his careful hold or tear your glossy eyes away from his figure. With each step closer to the entrance way, you choke back the dry sobs that well inside you. You had hoped that the last time you were with Rex in the 79s that it would be a happy memory. Instead, the galaxy decided to throw the two of you together for one last spat.

The cool night time air soothes your burning cheeks. Speeders and cruisers fly past the entry line of rowdy soldiers and excited patrons as they wait for entry. Coruscant’s cityscape lights up the starry night with synthetic warmth from billboard to skyscraper.

“Same place,” Rex asks softly.

Not answering his question, or allowing yourself to meet his pertinent gaze, you feebly pull your arm out of his comforting hand. “Please, stop,” your hollow voice responds.

“Cyar’ika,” Rex says in exasperation, “Come on, you shouldn’t be out like this. Let’s get you back-”.

“Stop,” your hoarse voice pleads as you begin walking back to your apartment. Memories of walking home with Rex after a night out with the 501st should bring you happiness. You didn’t want them to be tainted by the lingering heartbreak of tonight if you could help it.

The racing sounds of nightlife mutffle your hearing, so a stab of fear strikes you when you feel yourself being suddenly tugged into the side alley of 79s.

“Enough,” Rex growls into your ear. He leads both of you out of sight and behind some of the bar’s shipment crates. With careful hands, he lightly pushes you into the wall and stays pressed up in front of you. Just enough room for you to push him away if you really wanted to. Just enough room to intoxicate your senses with only his presence.

Running his hands over his cropped hair, Rex watches you with a glint of frustration in his eyes. “I tried to be nice,” he starts off in a low voice.

“I didn’t fucking ask. I told you I was leaving,” you bite back. Your finger nails dig into the palm of your hand.

“Will you let me speak,” he snaps. His chest plate rising and falling in heavy breaths. “You were the one kicking up a scene in there and out front. What are you doing here?”

“You don’t own this bar, Rex. Anyone can come and enjoy a night out,” you seethe.

“I may not own this bar in a legal sense, but this is the closest place us clones can call home. You know that. Why not some other bar? I told you- we’re done. We had a nice run. But we need split ways,” he rumbles. With each painful word, his face moves closer your own. Hard, amber eyes lock with yours as mixed emotions flash across the surface to show peeks of the soft look of adoration underneath. The musky scent of his cologne mixes with the whiskey on his breath to make you feel dizzy. “That includes where we spend our nights out. Now I’m going to have to bat off Kix and Fives for who knows how long”.

“That’s what you wanted. Not me,” you lash out. His eyes widen slightly at your volume, and you jab his chest plate with your finger before he can regain control of the conversation. “I didn’t want our relationship to end. I didn’t want you to let me go. I didn’t even get a say in the matter. And, I certainly didn’t ask you to be nice”. Your voice steadily grows in volume as your body trembles in anger. “You're a soldier. You made where your loyalty stands, so fucking clear. If this is your choice then you have to own up to the consequences of your actions. So dealing with your squad’s questions -- my fucking friends, who I haven’t see because I for some fucking reason respected your request for space -- about why I haven’t been around or why I was so desperate to leave tonight, is your own fucking fault. Kriff, for someone who is haran bent to follow orders and lead by a good example, you’re an awful person”. 

Rex takes a step away from you. Hurt melts away his anger, and he looks down at his boots. Fists flexing by his sides.

“This isn’t you,” you quietly sob, “I know you. I know the real Rex. Your boys know you, and they see something’s wrong”. With shaking hands, you softly hold his armored hand in a careful clasp. “Why won’t you let me in? Let me help you. All I have wanted in our relationship is to be by your side and support you”. You take a daring step closer to him, and when he doesn’t pull away, you wrap him in a tight embrace. 

The cool plastoid feels grimy to your skin. They couldn’t have been plantside for more than a few hours. Desperate to taste a sense of home and normalcy after the latest dire mission. Tentative hands drag across the fabric of your shirt and press you further into his chest plate.

Rex flexes his fingers to gently pull your body as close as he can with armor still sitting heavy on his shoulders. Pressing his face into the curve of your neck, he breathes you in to try to ground him. It’s always been you. Your face is the first image that would grace his vision when he closes his eyes each night. Memories of small acts of love keeps him grounded when news of a lost brother is announced. The echo of your laugh overpowers the crashing bomb shells on the battleground. No matter where in the galaxy he travels to, Rex can only think about you and how you have cared for him. He couldn’t risk that being taken away from him. He couldn’t risk anyone trying to use a GAR officer’s riduur as leverage.

“Enough,” Rex’s broken voice pleads into the crook of your neck. He closes his watery eyes and pulls you closer when you tenderly trail your finger across his back plate. Even with GAR issued armor and regulation protection, Rex knows your caring hands will be his downfall.

“Rex,” you gasp in his ear. Your voice light like the cool breeze that causes both of you to shiver. “Rex, I-”.

“Don’t,” he begs, “Don’t say it”. He drags his nose across the column of your neck, and both of you feel slight dampness where your bodies connect. Placing a gentle kiss in the dip of your neck, Rex shakes his head and pleads, “Cyar’ika, if you finish that sentence I will never be able to walk away from you. Not even when I’m called back to base for training or briefings. Especially, not when I know I face death like a familiar acquaintance everyday”.

“But, you didn’t face death today,” you hold him closer. The two of you are trying to mold into each other. Either to rekindle a lingering flame or to imprint a final memory of each other’s body to forever remember. “You face your lover today. Your lover who only asks one thing of you”.

Rex shudders a pained breath that sweeps across your skin. His lips trail everywhere as he can’t find the strength to pull himself away from your hold. “I can’t stay, cyar’ika. And, I can’t put you through the constant pain of not knowing if I’m alive,” his words break with a sob. “I’m trying to protect you. I don’t get to make many choices for myself or my  life, but I have the choice to protect you. I will always choose you, your safety, and your happiness over my own. My runi is tied to yours, and I am bound to you for darasuum”. Overwhelmed by emotions, Rex moves his head to lean his forehead against yours. Tears freely stream down his face as he bares himself in front of you.

“You are my happiness, riduur,” your gentle affirmation is met by a pained whimper. “Without you, I am nothing but a body. My runi is tied to yours, and I am bound to you for darasuum. Come home, lover”.

“I don’t want to keep hurting you,” Rex whispers. His amber eyes glisten as he watches your own eyes trickle with tears.

“Then come home where you belong. By my side. I don’t ask you to give up your brothers or stay away from the battlefield. Let me know that when you come planetside on leave, that you’ll come home to me and let me care for you”.

Unable to tell where one body starts and the other meets, the two of you keep each other in a searing embrace. Tears stream together as you press closer to his face. Nose bumps cause choked chuckles to fall. Heavy breaths fan across chapped lips just millimeters away from meeting in the middle.

“Please,” your soft plea ghosts over his mouth. Your invitation tastes of home cooked meals and warm caf in the morning.

“Always, cyar’ika. I will do everything in my power to come home to you,” Rex promises and places a gentle kiss on your growing smile, “I’m so sorry I left you, riddur”.

One hand slips just underneath the hem of your shirt to feel the familiar planes of your body as Rex rests his other hand on the nape of your neck. Unable to fight against the force pulling the two of you together, Rex dips down and presses a chaste kiss to your beaming smile. Another falls soon after, slightly longer as he traces the curve of your bottom lip with his tongue. And another when you look at him in adoration that pulls a soft sigh. A new sound to allow himself to reimagine when he misses you. Ready to come home to caring hands.

[davekat-sucks]

I have to say the cocktail menu for the homestuck cafe is a bit disappointing to me. It's like saying that what we all remember about this story and fandom was the shitty meme worthy parts Maybe make drinks based on the major flashes. Cascade was such a moment! I would have loved the beta kids to get alcoholic drinks and maybe John's comes with a mug and not a shitty bathtub. This is why homestuck is dead/dying. Even the semi-offical merch doesn't take itself seriously. I get having a sense of humor but come on... have some respect for the fandom man

Drinks based on the flashes would have been more interesting. If their reason why they didn't do that is to avoid something like SPOILERS, then that doesn't make sense. Most of the people who would attend the cafe would at least have read Homestuck. Be it through unofficial or Voxus' Let's Read. Plus you got the literal Cherubs there. Where is Wayward Vagabond? The Midnight Crew? Jack Noir? Are they now suddenly spoilers? Was it the same for the merch both online and in-cafe? Like an image of Jade controlling the Prospitian battleship is spoilers? Bec Noir on a shirt can't be allowed? I want to believe that HONE did make some art based on the flashes. But I'm not sure if it's VIZ media, Requiem Cafe, or her own decision to omit it for this year. If it's from Viz's contract, then I can be forgiving at least. So couldn't the other artists that were selling their own prints and stuff, sell ones that are about the flashes? Or were they told as well they can't cause spoilers? I also would have been fine to remove the ballpit cocktail since they even set up a RL ballpit in the cafe itself. Having both being around kind of feels redundant. Last year was at least forgiving for the menu because it was to test the waters. They had Viz's permission and it would have been something to help show them that Homestuck has potential, we just got to show it to them. But now, they got a lot more in quantity, but quality seem to back down a bit. Even just remembering that back when it was first announced, there were two promos for it from Octopimp. One being a month away and the next would be on the exact date itself. Now? We only had one from months back that has Sweet Bro and Hella Jeff promoting.

[rueririn]

I finally watched the Aikatsu 10th story episodes and my heart is so empty after it. There's something so genuinely cathartic about it. I grew up watching this anime about a young girl's journey to become an idol, and now, we get the final movie of them all graduating and going on their professional journeys. We don't see a whole lot of what they do, but I love how melancholic it all is. We have Ran, who was a prodigious model during school, but graduated to start from the ground up as an actor instead. We have Aoi, who put idolhood on secondary to focus on getting a degree in education. We have Ichigo, who is hosting dome concerts one after another, a trend that started from the first Starmiya Ichigo movie that first stapled her firmly on the spot as top idol. We see everyone's grown up. We see Yurika, who used to drink tomato juice out of wine glasses for her vampire persona, drink actual wine and get drunk on her work troubles. We see Kaede, our wayward chaotic gremlin that parachutes into school grounds, become the responsible adult of the pack. While we used to see them brew teas and get snacks for each other in the dorm cafeteria, now they toast to midnight cocktails as they talk about their troubles. We see them worrying and being anxious about the new decisions they have to face, the difficult steps they have to take to move forward and make a breakthrough in their careers.

There's just something so raw and sincere about this ending, about the fact that they've inevitably grown up, and I've grown up, too.

[copperbadge]

The Cannabis Amnesty Box also inspired what is either going to be a short story or yet another Shivadhverse novel, about the last of the true Davzda distillers and Gregory III re-legalizing psychedelic mushrooms. :D 

Also I named Gregory II’s wayward son that Jason had to oust in order to establish the ben Jason dynasty. I named him Nathan, just ‘cause. 

(I’m titling it “Where The Oleander Grows” because I was listening to one of the four or so Mountain Goats songs I actually like when I came up with the idea, and everyone should name a story after Mountain Goats lyrics sooner or later.)

Davzda, traditionally, was moonshine liquor distilled and poured into sterile bottles, into which a handful of salt-dried psychedelic fungus would be added. Potent and incredibly distasteful, it was consumed in shots or with heavily-flavored cocktail mixers. Caught up in the anti-drug frenzy of the 1950s, Nathan IV ordered that the mushrooms which gave Davzda its...unique flavor, and psychedelic properties, be destroyed. At the time, the country still had a standing military, and they marched through the highlands (really just the one highland) on his orders, uprooting and burning Panaeolis shivadh wherever they found it. 

In some ways it was just as well -- eventually psychedelic mushrooms would be banned in Europe in any case, and true Davzda became illegal to possess or consume. An imitation Davzda flourished, made with salt-dried mushrooms that contained only the usual deliciousness of the white button variety. The flavor, still akin to that of vodka-wetted beach sand, was considered a feature, not a bug. 

This did not stop the dedicated from cultivating P. shivadh or distilling true Davzda. What it did do was make true Davzda slightly more dangerous to keep and sell -- and thus much more lucrative.

There were two Shivadh families who grew the mushrooms that were required for true Davzda, and only one that actually distilled the vodka-like liquor in which the mushrooms were suspended. This was bottled in a distinctive grey-green glass and sold both in Askazer-Shivadlakia and across Europe on the black market. 

It took television chef and social media influencer Eddie Rambler, Duke of the Orange and King Consort, roughly two weeks in the country to discover where he could acquire true Davzda. He'd had some experience of black markets, being raised in California. It took another week to charm the Lansky family (no relation to Meyer, so they claimed) into selling him some. 

He kept his mouth admirably shut about his source, did not even mention them in his imitation Davzda cocktail recipes on Photogram, and only bought four bottles total across the year. True, he did give one of them to the King Emeritus, who in theory had the power to instigate an investigation and have them all arrested and imprisoned, but as Bill Lansky, head of the family, was heard to remark, Michaelis ben Jason simply wasn't a narc. 

(There was a lot of speculation about what the King Emeritus did with a bottle of Davzda. The truth was really rather tame; aside from an occasional shot when feeling festive, he and his partner Jes mainly kept it in a high cupboard out of reach of the inquisitive teenagers who frequently came over to visit Jes's son Noah.) 

Michaelis ben Jason also hadn't raised a narc; his son, the current king Gregory III, presumably had access to the other three bottles, but hadn't bothered the Lansky family and it was possible didn't know of their existence. Rambler was a man who could keep a secret, they all decided.

And then one morning Nomi Lansky, youngest daughter of the clan and its most brilliant botanist and brewmaster, arrived at the growing shed, far up in the highland and deep in its wilderness, to find a man sitting outside, chair tipped back against the wall of the shed, reading. He was wearing black, with the gold filigree trim of the royal uniform, and his face was on the newest currency. 

She stopped, considering matters. He looked up at her and smiled. 

"Good morning, Ms. Lansky," King Gregory III said, closing his book. She considered running, and could tell he saw it. "If you like, go ahead. I'm here alone; I might be able to catch up to you if you run, but I doubt I could hold you."

[heygerald]

HEART MECHANICS - PART 1/9

Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x oc

Matty Neven had dealt with her fair share of pilots throughout her life. Most of them, she has fond memories of. Her dad teaching her how to ride a bike. Her godfather sneaking her into a bar so that she could see what it’s like when she was way too young to be there. Her mother hosting a cookout reunion every couple of months for whoever was in town to catch up at. 

But some of them weren’t so happy. 

Soldiers insinuating that she only got her job because of her family ties. Men with starry smiles hitting on her at the bar despite the fact that she wasn’t interested. One night stands that didn’t have enough manners to wait until sunrise before kicking her out. 

It was just the mechanics of it all.

And so, she made a very simple rule: love the jet, but never the pilot.

It’s a fairly easy rule to follow, right up until the moment she meets a pilot with a warm smile that seems to understand the heavy weight of family ties. 

Read the story here: ... / part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / part 5 / part 6 / part 7 / part 8 / part 9

Matty Neven was a lot of things. 

She was the daughter of an old school pilot, famous for his time at the local Top Gun academy and arguably even more famous for his late night cocktails that he could whip up using anything found in the fridge. She was the goddaughter of the Admiral Kazansky; Iceman as the other pilots knew him by. She was the oldest of her family, the only one that had enlisted in the military in her father’s too big footsteps while her younger sisters had gone the more delicate path of motherhood. She was the first in the entire Neven family to get expelled from school—a total accident, she would swear until the day she died, though Linda Ashlington did deserve to have her eyebrows burnt off during a wayward chemistry experiment—and the only member of the Neven family to puke at her high school graduation ceremony due to the excessive hangover she had been sporting. She was the blondest of all her siblings, the tallest too, and definitely the one with the worst sailor mouth when it came to cussing out bad drivers or drunken sailors. 

And right now, she was also, really, really, really fucking late. 

“Jesus, Matty,” Claire's raspy voice echoed in her ear; amusement in part, but mostly annoyance. “Where the hell are you? I thought you said you were coming.”

“I am coming!” she huffed right back, phone indelicately cradled between her shoulder and her chin as she turned into the too full parking lot of The Hard Deck. Not her favorite bar by any means, but certainly one that had the most character and the least likelihood of accidental food poisoning. “I’m literally pulling into the parking lot right now.” 

“How are you so late? Actually, how are you always late to everything we do?” Claire asked. Pondered, really. And as the music thrummed in the background and people were shouting over one another, Matty could practically picture the brunette arching a sharp eyebrow high onto the crown of her head while watching the boys goad some drunks into a game of darts. “I mean, seriously, we left work at the same time. And we’re in the Navy. Haven’t you learned time management by now?” 

“It’s not my fault.” 

“Sure, Matts, sure.” 

“It’s not!” she cried. Both annoyed that her friend wouldn’t believe her and anxious that she wasn’t going to be able to find a good parking spot in the overflowing lot. She was lucky enough that someone was pulling out, though, and as she waited patiently she nervously fixed her hair in her rearview mirror. “I swear. I did everything right this time—maybe I’m cursed. Too many broken mirrors over the years or something like that. Something with salt, I think. It would explain a lot, actually.” 

“You’re so dramatic.” 

“Dramatic but fantastically self aware,” she corrected, swiping some smeared eyeliner off her cheek as the Pontiac slowly muddled out of its spot. “Seriously though, I promise that It’s not my fault.”

“This time.” 

“Oh, piss of,” she rolled her eyes. “I really think the world just hates me.” 

Claire snorted. And, well, yeah, Matty would have too.

It wasn’t the best excuse she could have given for her tardiness, but it was true. 

Her lateness wasn’t her own fault because despite the fact that she hadn’t wanted to spend her evening getting clambered over by the latest handful of Top Gun recruits, she had been looking forward to getting shitty at the bar with her friends after a long week at work. Plus, Eggs was one of her closest friends, and she wouldn’t have missed his birthday party for anything. 

But, of course, life didn’t ever want to make things easy for her, and when she finally got home from work she didn’t have any hot water. And then her curling iron had gone bust, leaving her in a huff trying to figure out how to braid her unruly mop of hair into something half-up, half-down that Claire may have considered beachy with a splash of boho. Only to then have traffic backed up miles between her place and the bar.

So, no. It wasn’t her fault that she was late. Just fate. 

She pulled into the empty parking spot with a sigh and said, “just tell Eggs to chill out, alright? I’m coming in now. Literally, parking as we speak.” 

“You think Eggs would chill out if I told him?” Claire quipped. “The guy is so wound up all the time it’s amazing he even wanted to go drinking on a Friday night. He’s several beers in and is still grumbling about how he has to get up in the morning to mow his lawn before it gets too hot.”

Matty put her Jeep into park and removed her keys with a thoughtful glance at the small birthday present she had brought. “Maybe I should have gotten him a gift card for lawn maintenance instead,” she said, wondering how much he would like the leather wallet she got to replace the one he lost a few weeks ago. 

“What he actually needs is some weed and a good night’s sleep.” 

Matty laughed in amusement while hip-checking her door shut. The hinges squealed a little and she sighed because even though she was a damn good mechanic, some parts of her life tended to get lost in the fold. 

Parts being her Jeep that she hadn’t even washed in well over six months. 

Whatever. She could worry about that some other time. 

Turning away, she started across the parking lot with the present in one hand, phone in the other. “Yeah, yeah, well I don’t think the Cap would be too happy with him failing his drug tests, but I am coming inside right now. That should cheer him up.” 

Claire laughed. “Anyone ever tell you that you think pretty highly of yourself?”

“No. Why, have you heard something?”

“You’re an idiot,” Claire said. But as Matty opened up the front doors and was greeted with a wall of warm air and the smell of fresh beer, she hung up on her friend without bothering with a retort. 

Just sighed with a glance around. 

The bar was—unsurprisingly—even more packed inside than the parking lot was outside. Afterall, The Hard Deck sat in that sweet fourteen mile radius right on the edge of downtown that made getting to it easy for soldiers to get to after work and finding an uber ride home cheap enough to warrant. Uniforms lined every inch of floorboards from the pool tables to the bathrooms. A few old time veterans were perched at their unofficial seats at the bar, Penny on one side, smiling and smirking and making jokes as candidly as she could while also busting ass to serve everyone the drinks they wanted. People seemed jolly and drunk; probably a sign that some asshat had done something stupid and ended up buying everyone a round. 

She was sad to have missed that. It was always fun to watch someone get thrown out on their ass. Matty made a note to ask Penny about it later. 

Still despite the happy atmosphere, as someone bumped shoulders with her, Matty had to remind herself not to throw hands at every sailor that sent a beaming smile in her direction. 

She was here for a good time with her friends, and though Eggs always liked to place money bets on how many egos she could bruise without even trying, Penny had warned her more than once that she couldn’t smack every boy that looked her way. Plus, she couldn’t really blame the wandering eyes. Here she was strutting around in a tight pair of jeans and a cute tank top that highlighted just enough skin to warrant some attention. 

What was their fault, however, was their profession of choice. Matty was perhaps one of the only people at Miramar that disliked pilots with that sordid passion you could only get from being around them your entire life. 

Sure. She had a respect for what they did, what they sacrificed, and who they were, but she also knew them well enough to keep any boy in a uniform at arm’s length. 

Which was a little hard when the bar was packed shoulder to shoulder with them. Even moreso when a particularly brave one approached her. 

“Hey,” he smiled, leaning close enough for her to smell the whisky on his breath. “It’s... Matty, right?”

She eyed him over, not liking his smile or his hazy eyes, but nodded all the same before sweeping her gaze back over the room in search of her friends. “Yeah, that’s me. Do I know you?”

“Ah, probably not,” he shrugged. She would have described the gesture as bashful if his eyes didn’t linger a little too long on her chest. “I’m one of the new airmen for Bravo company; just started a couple weeks ago so I haven’t gotten the chance to introduce myself to everyone just yet. I’ve heard plenty about you though.” 

“Charming,” she said. despite the fact that nothing about the man was, in fact, charming. Decidedly less so, actually. “But if you’ll excuse me, I’m looking for my friends.” 

She stepped right. He stepped left. Matty ground her jaw when he just batted his eyelashes at her while stepping closer. 

“Let me help you.” 

“No thanks.” 

“Oh, it’s not a problem,” he told her, acting as if she was being bashful in refusing his help rather than flat out telling him she didn’t want nor need it. In fact, he wasn’t even taller than her, so she wasn’t quite so sure what he thought he could accomplish that she couldn’t. “I don’t mind helping out a pretty girl. You might actually help build up my ego a little bit.” 

“Wonderful, but I’m not the Make-A-Wish foundation, so maybe work on your ego with something else. Like a mirror. That should fix it real quick.” 

“You’re funny.” 

“I wasn’t trying to be.” 

He grinned as if they were sharing some sort of secret before throwing an arm over her shoulder, twisting her this way and that while looking for people she was sure that he didn’t even know. “What’s a pretty doll like you doing all alone here, anyways? I mean, are you sure that your friends are even here?”

“I’m sure.” 

“Because if they aren’t,” he barreled on, “you can always hang out with me and my friends. We’re pretty fun.” 

“I very much doubt that,” she deadpanned. 

He laughed once more and just patted her on the shoulder while twisting around. Matty tried her best to put some space between them, but as a group of new recruits swaggered into the bar, she found herself stuck between a rock and a hard place. 

“Ah, I can’t find them,” he told her. She was certain that he didn’t look; even more certain that he didn’t know what to look for, but when his gaze stopped on the bar, she figured he found something else worth his time. “You want a drink while you wait?”

Matty rolled her eyes. “Not from you.”

He laughed—again—as if she had said something funny. 

“Ah, c’mon. I’ll buy you whatever you want. A beer? Mixed drink? How about some Sex on the Beach?” he asked. She pursed her lips tight at that, no longer even pretending to be cordial with some gnat from the base that she wouldn’t have talked to on a normal day, and he quickly dissolved into a cheeky laugh. “The drink of course. C’mon, Matty, we only just met you know.” 

“How about no. Not interested. Ever.” 

“But—“

 “If you want to keep that arm, kid, you’d better move it before she does for you,” a Southern voice drawled behind them; warm but somehow still ice-cold, threatening but with an easy going staccato.

They turned together. You know, because he still had his arm thrown over her shoulder and was still moving her around like a ragdoll, but Matty felt the guy go stiff on her shoulder when he took sight of the man looming in front of them. 

This time, it was Matty who smiled. 

How she loved Frank and the sound of him threatening someone for her. 

The airman blinked between the pair. He sized Frank up for a moment, but even drunk, it didn’t take him long to realize that he would not be winning that fight. Even when Frank wasn’t trying to take up space, he practically loomed over everyone else. At a clean six foot three, with heavy shoulders, large arms, and a nose crooked from one too many brawls, he cut an imposing figure among the sea of happy, go-lucky soldiers. 

The airman cleared his throat. She batted her eyelashes up at him impishly.

“What?” she chirped, amused. “You’ve never met my friend before? I’m sure you would have heard of him if you’ve heard of me. Frankie is always starting trouble on base.”

“Uh, no, I haven’t...” he shook his head while carefully and quickly retracting his arm from her shoulder before it could be done for him. When he stepped back, Matty even noticed that his face had blanched a bit. “I wasn’t trying to—”

“Offer me sex on the beach?” she asked, feigning ignorance, before blinking over at Frank. “The drink, of course.” 

That spurred the airman back another foot as he shook his head back and forth, no longer even looking at Matty as he couldn’t seem to remove his gaze from Frank’s unamused look. “No. No, I wasn’t—uh. Sorry. Have a good night.” 

Then he promptly disappeared into the fray.

Frank snorted at the kid’s retreat. It wasn’t the first time he had scared someone off for Matty—surely wouldn’t be the last time either—but he always seemed to find some amusement in it. Probably because he knew that Matty had a temper worse than he did, and that out of everyone here, she was the one more than likely to throw a punch at a handsy sailor more than he would. 

Yet, no one ever seemed scared of her. 

She wondered if that had anything to do with her pink lip-gloss and sparkly eyeshadow. 

“That didn’t take long,” he noted, sipping his beer with a smirk. “You were only here, what, two minutes?”

“Yeah, well, being beautiful is hard,” Matty sighed melodramatically before glancing over at Frank. “Although, couldn’t you have showed up a little bit earlier? I think he spilled some beer on me.” 

Frank rolled his eyes. “You’re welcome, dickhead.”

“It’s a new shirt, Frank,” she told him.

He didn’t care. Just eyed the garment with a look of disinterest before touting, “don’t start getting all pissy with me, Neven. It’s Diego's birthday. He gets to pick the bar and we get to pay for his drinks. Rules are rules.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she grumbled, waving a hand in the air to show that even though she had heard what he was saying, she really didn’t care all that much. “All I’m saying is we could have just as easily gotten drunk at his house. Much less men to deal with there.” 

“What—you got a bed time or something? You used to be fun, y’know,” Frank drawled before slinging his own arm over her shoulder. It kept any wandering eyes spurned in the opposite direction and allowed the hulking muscle of a man to pull her in the direction of their table, where the others were no doubt sitting already half-sloshed. “What happened to the girl who finished off an entire jar of moonshine that someone in the parking lot gave her?”

“Uh, she finished off an entire jar of moonshine that someone in the parking lot gave her. I don’t remember anything after the first sip, but I’m pretty sure that at one point in the night I fell off of a table.” 

Frank tossed his head back with a laugh. “You got right back up, though.” 

“Yeah,” she rolled her eyes. “And then I managed to fall right into some pilot’s bed. Try waking up to that with the world’s worst hangover. I haven’t touched moonshine since.”

“Seriously? A pilot?” he whistled, making fun of both the imagery and of her. 

It wasn’t a secret that Matty had grown up in a military family; everyone in the motorpool knew that story, knew which bases she had been moved to in her childhood, knew the embarrassing stories of her father scaring the shit out of her boyfriends when she was in high school. But it was a secret which particular family Matty came from. Though she was proud to be a Neven, over the years she had quickly grown tired of people obsessing over the callsigns Hollywood and Iceman. She had dealt with enough shit as is just being a woman mechanic—having people insinuate that she was only successful because of family ties had been the cherry on top of the metaphorical shit sundae.

And the best way to keep people out of her family business?

Well, that was easy. She simply avoided the people who would know the family business; people like the naked pilot she had gone to bed with a couple months ago. People exactly like the group of suave, egotistical aviators that were cluttered at the pool tables all arguing about who was the best. 

“I know, I know, I broke the golden rule.” 

“That’s pretty much you’re only rule,” he said. 

Matty sighed. Then she glared up at him. “Yeah, well, if I remember correctly I was left alone after finishing off the moonshine.” 

“Can you remember?” he teased. “It was a fuck ton of moonshine.” 

She punched him in the side. Not exactly a valiant effort given that Frank was more muscle than soft spots, but he groaned all the same, and Matty smiled up at him in victory as he dragged her around the bar. A pair of pilots stood talking to Penny, but when Matty caught the bartender’s eyes, she gave her a warm wave. 

It caught the pilot’s attention. The blonde one, a man with a striking smile and an ego that she could smell from there winked at her. Matty promptly gave him the finger in return, and when he dropped open his mouth at it, Penny had to smother a laugh into her hands. 

Frank shot him a smug look before directing Matty towards the back patio. 

“Oh. Eggs is pissed that you’re late, by the way,” he told her. 

“Ugh. It’s not my fault! I tried to be here on time.” He gave her a look. The same look that meant he didn’t believe a word out of her mouth, and Matty nearly whacked a bespectacled WSO in the face when she threw her arms up in frustration. She winced, but they were already moving on past, so she figured he would live without an apology. “I did. Why does no one believe me?” 

“Because you’re always late to stuff like this.” 

“I am not,” she groaned, rolling her eyes. “You’re the worst. You’re supposed to have my back, Frankie.” 

Frank snorted. “Show up on time then.” 

“I thought we were best friends. I would always defend you if something like this happened, you know.” 

“Hm,” he harrumphed, though there was amusement in his eyes when he glanced down at her. Matty batted her eyelashes up at him in return, and as they stepped outside, he shook his head with a disbelieving laugh. “You’re a manipulative fucker, you know that?”

“I prefer the term iconic.” 

He didn’t seem convinced. It didn’t matter because in the next moment they were arriving at their picnic table, cutting through the thread of conversation as everyone swiveled in their seats to take note of the group’s latest arrival.

“Well, well, well, look who finally showed up, eh?” Eggs chided. 

“Yeah, seriously. It took you long enough,” Claire tacked on, though she grinned all the same when Matty lovingly rolled her eyes. “I didn’t realize it took fifteen minutes to walk from the parking lot.” 

“I was accosted,” Matty told her. 

“By... beer?” Nick asked, gesturing to the stain on the top of her shirt with a quirked brow. Matty frowned at it, then at Frank.

“I told you he spilled some on me!” 

“It’s a shirt,” he said simply, both not interested in arguing and not even the slightest bit upset about the mishap. Matty might have hit him if Eggs wasn’t sitting right there, still managing to look a little upset about her tardiness. 

“Eggs, I swear I tried to be here on time,” she said, figuring that her attention was better spent on apologizing to the birthday boy than convincing Frank her outfit was, in fact, fashionable. “I really, really did.” 

Diego eyed her for a moment, a failed attempt at being upset, before breaking out into a cheeky grin. 

“Yeah, yeah, I don’t know why I expected anything else. You’re late to everything, Matts.” 

“I am not!” 

“I’m just glad you showed up. Nick had a bet that you were gonna fake a heart attack and skip the party entirely—again.” 

Matty swung her gaze to Nick. The kid looked a little sheepish under her glare, but he didn’t defend himself. Just offered a look halfway between a grimace and a smile. 

Whatever. She could kick his ass later. 

“Well, I didn’t,” she announced to the table. Then, as if remembering that she was here for a reason other than defending her life choices, Matty turned her attention back to Eggs. Handing him her present, she chirped, “happy birthday!” while planting a sloppy kiss onto his cheek. 

He grunted and waved her off, though everyone knew that he enjoyed the attention as much as the next guy. “Ah, yeah, yeah, enough with the loving, alright? It’s just embarrassing at this point, Matty. You know I’m married.” 

Frank snorted as Matty seated herself between him and Claire, smiling happily when Nick slid over a lukewarm beer. 

“Everybody is married,” she grumbled, though the table knew well enough that Matty didn’t have any interest in that particular milestone anytime soon. “Speaking of your wife, where is she?”

“Why? Still trying to convince her to make you godmother when the new baby comes around?”

“No,” Matty said. Then, when Eggs curled a disbelieving brow at her, she threw up her hands with a huff. “Although, I still don’t know why you won’t consider me. I’m great with kids!”

“You made Julia cry last time you babysat.” 

“She wanted to watch a cute movie.” 

“Yeah, a cute movie. Not fucking Bambi! She’s five, for fuck’s sake.”

“I already apologized about that, but whatever. I was just wondering if Maria is coming because I love hanging out with her. Besides, I could have used some more female company; I get tired staring at your ugly faces every day.” 

“Hey!” Frank ruffled her hair while Diego kicked her in the shins, but the entire table erupted into laughter at the comment. 

Claire simply smirked at the boys. “She’s not wrong. You fellas are fucking hideous.”

“Are you really a fair judge of the male gender?” Eggs smarted, prompting Claire to roll her eyes with a crass flaunt of her middle finger. “I'm just saying, if you’re not interested in us, then we’re not interested in your opinion.” 

“Fuck off; there’s a reason you’re not interested in men either,” she retorted. 

“Well, yeah, that’s because I prefer pussy—ow!” he grunted when Matty gave him a swift kick to the shins. Glaring, he sat back in his seat with a sharp huff. “This is my birthday! Will you stop being such a dick, Matty! Christ. First you show up late, now you treat me like shit.” 

Claire busted out laughing as Matty just gave the table a faultless flash of her eyelashes. Sipping on her beer, she decided to change the subject before Eggs could get distracted enough from his beer to start pouting. Glancing around, she asked, “well, why am I getting yelled at when we’re still a few boys short? I thought Boomer and George would have been here by now.”

“They are here.”

“Then where—?”

“They’ve been hustling some pilots for the last hour,” Eggs rolled his eyes, though there was an amused gleam in his eyes that he failed to hide from the table. “Boomer promised to win me some money for my birthday, but I think he has a gambling problem. He’s attracted to money like a goblin.”

“A dragon,” Claire piped up from around her beer.

Eggs blinked at her, pausing. “What?” 

Claire rolled her eyes, pointing at Eggs around the rim of her beer. “You mean a dragon. Not a goblin.” 

“Why would a dragon want money?”

“What? You’re kidding right? Dragons are, like, notoriously obsessed with money and gold and jewels and all that bullshit. That’s why people are always trying to kill them.” 

“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard,” Eggs shook his head. 

“It’s the truth! Don’t you know your lore?”

“My lore?” he repeated incredulously. Frank and Matty shared a knowing look—Diego liked to argue about every little thing when he was drinking, and Claire loved to prove everybody wrong—which meant that this argument wasn't likely to go anywhere good. “No, I don’t know my lore, Claire, unlike you I actually got laid in high school.”

“Oof, low blow,” Matty laughed. “Claire wasn’t even out when she was in high school.” 

“I was still fucking more women than Eggs," Claire tsked.

Diego rolled his eyes; disbelieving. “Oh, yeah? Like who?"

“Like your mom.” 

“Oh, fuck you!” he chortled, allowing the pair to fall into their natural stream of mindless arguments. Claire seemed all too eager to knock him a peg down; even on his birthday, the mechanic lived for destroying the opposite gender’s ego. 

Matty smiled as Frank leaned in, leaving the pair to their argument.

“Do you think she’ll let him win an argument for once?” he asked.

“Doubtful.”

“Not even on his birthday?”

Matty considered his point while sipping on her beer before shaking her head. She remembered a similar incident two years prior when Claire had spent two and a half hours arguing with Boomer about the superiority of the Woman’s US soccer team in comparison to Men’s. He hadn’t conceded defeat until everyone at the party physically forced the pair apart, and even then Claire had claimed victory for the coming months. 

“Doubt it. Not that it matters, though, she is right.” 

“About?”

“Dragons and their love of gold. I have no idea where he got the idea that goblins are obsessed with money, but he’s way off base. Not that I’m wading into that argument any time soon,” she eyed the pair for a moment before returning her attention to her beer. Frank laughed prompting Matty to turn to him with a scornful glare. “What?”

“You were a total nerd in high school, weren’t you?” he poked.

“Seriously? You think that Dad ever would have let me indulge in my nerdish fantasies without making a big deal out of it? He practically had a heart attack when I mentioned I wanted to join the debate club.”

“Yeah, well,” Frank shrugged, “that’s because people on debate club have no friends.”

“Hey!” 

He laughed, only pausing to feign pain when Matty slugged him in the shoulder with a mock glare, before settling back into his seat beside her. A cheer went up around the bar as the group of pilots finished their game of pool—no surprise, it seemed like the blonde had won the game—and she rolled her eyes in bemusement about it. 

Pilots always had to be loud. Then again, her table was pretty loud too. 

Frank caught her glancing. When she turned back, he had a dark brow arched on his forehead. “Thinking about finding another pilot to spend the night with?” he teased. 

“Not a chance.” 

“Your poor dad,” he mocked. “Does he know that you refuse to even be friends with pilots?”

“It’s not that I won’t be friends with them,” Matty corrected Frank, though there was still disbelief shimmering in his eyes that promised this argument would take more energy than she likely felt like sharing. “Oh, shut up. You know how pilots are, anyways. All good bodies but bad temperaments.” 

“Did I know that about pilots?” Frank muttered aloud. 

“And, yes, he does know that I don’t date pilots. Him and Ice spent years introducing me to their fair share before I finally broke down and told them that I wasn’t interested. That was a fun conversation.” 

“You ever think you might be a little hard on them?”

Matty rounded on Frank with wide eyes; this time, it was her that couldn’t believe him, and when he realized what he had just said, Frank seemed in disbelief at himself as well. “Ha, since when are you an advocate for the aviators? Last I remember, you thought that Cyclone was a total prick.” 

“Well, he is,” Frank shrugged. 

Matty moved past that. “Anyways, it’s nothing personal about pilots, and Dad gets that. I mean, hell, I love all of his friends.” 

Frank knocked his hand on the table at that. “Speaking of your dad’s friends,” he started, and, well, fuck, Matty knew exactly where this conversation was going. “I heard that Mav is back in town and—” 

Matty threw her head back with a groan. “Ugh. Don’t even start.” 

“What?!” 

“I am not hanging out with you two again,” she declared, an idle thought to the last time she had a cookout with both of them present. She had nearly shit herself when Frank set off that homemade firework. “My neighbors are still pissed at me for that, you know.” 

“It was the fourth,” he shrugged. “I was trying to be patriotic.” 

She snorted; no one believed that particular lie. “Well, feel free to hang out with him on your own time, but you are still banned from Ice’s house.” 

Frank rolled his eyes, grunting under his breath as he did so. “That wasn’t even my fault. It was Mav’s idea, you know. But, anyways,” he barreled on, though she knew that the conversation would be brought back up sooner rather than later. He was a rockhead like that. “Did you see him yet?”

She had. 

Maverick had made it a point to stop by the garage bright and early that morning before he was to show up at the school for debrief with Cyclone. It hadn’t been too much of a surprise considering his unwavering friendship with Iceman that he got the job in the first place, but his chirpy attitude had been enough of a surprise when she thought she was alone that Matty promptly slammed the bench drawer shut on her thumb.

When she swore with more colorful language than Maverick had ever heard, he keeled over at the waist laughing. And when he had tossed her an ice pack from the back of her fridge, she had laughed too because, well shit, times really didn’t change all that much considering it had only been a handful of years since him and Ice had slapped a packet of frozen peas onto her knuckles following her first fist fight at school.

Matty glanced at the digit, playing with the thick tape wrapped around it.

Frank pointed to it curiously. “Maverick did that?”

“Unintentionally. He always was a menace.” 

“Pot, meet kettle.” 

Matty knocked her shoulder into his, though the pair just laughed about the idiocy of it all, as the pilots started hooting and hollering once more. This time, they were crowded around the dart board.

“So, what’s the plan this time?”

“What do you mean?”

Frank shrugged while finishing the last of his beer. Matty tried to catch up, but as the bar just got more crowded, she figured she would need to switch to hard liquor sooner rather than later if she wanted to keep from causing trouble with the wayward aviators. “Ah, come on, Mats. We both know how secretive you are about the whole family thing. Now we have Maverick teaching the latest batch of recruits? You must have some sort of plan on how to keep people from knowing you two are best pals.” 

"Not best," she announced. Then cleared her throat with a shrug. "And, it's not like I'll be sitting in his class anytime soon. I can keep a distance."

“Maybe, but you don’t think his jet will be coming through the motor pool more often than the others? Rumor has it that Mav likes to play it loose and fast—that doesn’t exactly leave much room for a mechanical fuck up in his jet.” 

Frank had a point.

Matty knew because she had been considering it for the better part of the day. Maverick did like to fly recklessly, and he didn’t like people he didn’t know touching things that were his. Meaning she would most likely be stuck as his personal mechanic until she could convince him that the others in the motor pool were just as capable.

And knowing Maverick? That could take years just out of sheer insolence. 

Sighing, she rubbed the sore spot between her brows. “I… think tequila doesn’t sound too bad right now. You want a shot?”

Frank grinned like an idiot. “When have I ever said no to a shot with you?”

Matty rolled her eyes at his enthusiasm, but let a smile stick to her features as she turned to the rest of the table. Eggs and Claire were still knee deep in their argument. Nick had long since disappeared. 

“Hey," she waved a hand between them, "you losers want some shots?”

“Do we want some shots? What sort of question is that?” Eggs guffawed. 

“Tequila good?”

“Fuck no!” he shook his head at her, not even budging at the look that she shot him in return. In fact, his face split into that sort of shit-eating grin that she knew meant nothing good would be coming. “C’mon, Matty. It’s my birthday! Doesn’t the birthday boy get to pick the shots you’ll be buying him?”

She planted her hands on her hips, waving at him impatiently. “Yada, yada, yada. You talk more than a politician on Sunday. What d'ya want, Eggs?”

“You already know what I want.” 

The whole table groaned together, before everyone in unison said, “not Jaeger.” 

“That’s right! I fucking want some Jaeger! What do you fuckers have against it, anyways? If we’re gonna do shots, then we’re gonna do them the right way!” 

“Ugh. No need to go on a tirade,” Matty patted him on the shoulder, albeit unenthusiastically. She really hated him sometimes; birthday or not. “Jaeger it is.”

“Grab the boys on your way back too, would ya?” Eggs jutted his chin towards the dart board in the back of the room where two familiar heads were lining up their shots against a crowd of uniforms. “The last thing we need is to start a color war before we can even get properly drunk, eh?”

She waved off his request while making her way to the bar. 

Uniforms shifted left and right around her, a few familiar faces popping out against the sea of khaki and Tommy Bahama shirts. Matty tried not to let her eye wander too much; the last thing she needed was to embolden some sailor into trying to get her number, but the bar was unusually packed making it difficult to avoid every blue-eyed sailor that looked her way. Still, she managed to get to the bar in record time. 

Penny grinned at her arrival.

“Well, well, well,” Penny chirped, slinging her dish towel over her shoulder. There was a pair of pilots that she had been talking to who both glanced up at Matty’s arrival. She recognized the man with glasses that she had almost taken out earlier, but she didn’t have any clue who the dark haired woman beside him was. “I was wondering how long it would take for you to show up.” 

“You and everybody else.” 

“Late again?”

Matty threw her arms up. This time, she was much more careful about not whacking anyone across the face. Still, the guy with glasses kept a good distance for safety. “I swear it wasn’t my fault.” 

Penny snorted. “I’ve heard that before.” 

“Yeah, whatever.” Matty leant forward onto the bar with a depreciating sigh. The two pilots seemed amused at her theatrics, and feeling particularly nice, she smiled at them before turning back to Penny. “I need some shots.” 

“Let me guess… Jaeger?”

She grinned. “Eggs is predictable like that.”

“How many?”

“Seven.” 

“Does that mean you’re gonna drag Boomer off the dart board for me when things turn South?” Penny asked with a cocked hip, gesturing to the group at the back of the bar. Matty winced; Boomer was the life of the party, but he also loved to start shit with pilots whenever he got the chance. “I don’t think Hangman’s ego will be able to endure a game of darts with him. Plus, you know, I like my bar very much un-broken.”

The woman pilot snorted into her drink.

Matty eyed her a bit oddly, before turning back to Penny with a reassuring smile. “I’ll drag him out by the feet if I have to.” 

“Promise?”

“Scout’s honor,” Matty said, throwing three fingers up into the air despite the fact that she had never, in her life, been a scout. Penny either didn’t know that tidbit about her or didn’t care. Matty figured it was all the same, and grinned just a little bit brighter while wiggling her hand in the air. “Your bar will remain very un-broken, Pen, I promise.” 

“Hm. You know, sometimes I think you’re more trouble than he is,” Penny told her. “Hell, than any of these boys are.” 

“But I’m, like, way prettier to look at.” 

Penny rolled her eyes, though doesn’t disagree. Partly because she knows that Matty would argue till her lungs gave out if she had the opportunity, partly (probably) because she knows Matty was right. 

Seriously. Matty was a total smoke show. How could she not see that?

“Nothing gets broken,” Penny declared, reaffirming her biggest worry, while slowly gathering up as many shot glasses as she can handle. At this, the female pilot’s eyebrows disappear into her hairline, and Matty feels something like pride worm its way up the back of her throat. “I mean it, too, Matts.”

“Does that mean you’ll add a shot of Jose Cuervo for me?”

Penny paused. Matty gave her an impish grin with a wink, before the brunette was mumbling something to herself with the shake of her head. Still, as she disappeared down the bar, Matty watched her pull a bottle of cheap tequila from the bottom shelf. 

“Tequila, huh?” the female pilot chirped. 

Matty turned to look at her. The woman offered a warm smile along with an amused curl of the brows, and though Matty didn’t actively make friends with aviators, she was in too good of a mood to actively ignore one either. So, she just shrugged. “The best way to get drunk besides shine.”

“Moonshine?” Glasses asked from around her shoulder, almost worried. 

“Sure. Never had it?”

“No, I–I have,” he said, clearing his throat with an awkward smile. Matty darted her gaze between him and the woman, wondering if they were friends or just unfortunate workplace associates, but the woman gave nothing away as she grinned into her beer. Apparently, the idea of Glasses drinking moonshine is just as amusing to her as it is to Matty.  “Just didn’t think you could find it out here. In the South, sure, but...” 

“Hm. Well, you’ve obviously never been to some of the seedier bars scattered around Miramar. You can find it. Not sure if some of it should be drank, but it’s there.” 

The woman laughed. “Talking from experience?”

Matty grinned. “Something like that.” 

Glasses mumbled something under his breath that caught the woman’s attention, and as they fell back into steady conversation, Matty relaxed against the bar. She waved at a few regulars, smiled even when she spotted a friend of hers from basic, and snorted when some bickering started up at the dart board just like Penny had forewarned.

Yeah. Boomer was definitely trouble, alright. 

And Matty was more than happy to keep herself company as she waited for her drinks when someone new slid into the open space between her and the pilots. At first, she bristled at having someone standing so close to her, but then she realized that bar was standing room only and...

Well. 

He was standing. 

But then she cautioned a glance over at him to find that he was already glancing at her with a curious brow and Matty almost—almost—thanked god that he had decided to stand next to her of all people because damn if he wasn’t a fine ass drink of water. Tall, thick arms, broad chest, tan skin, bright eyes, sun-streaked hair that was accented by a soft mustache that somehow looked good on him  (not like the pornstaches that half of the fucking Navy was sporting nowadays). He almost looked statuesque beside her as he absorbed the warm rays of overhead lighting, smiled under her attention with something both inviting and cool, adorable and sexy.

Attractive really in every sense of the word. 

Entirely fuckable too, even without moonshine. 

And Matty was even considering making some sort of flirty comment towards him that would have, at the very least, earned her ten minutes of attention from a handsome stranger at the bar as she waited for Penny to return with her drinks, but then the female pilot said something to him, actually had the audacity to call him something fucking stupid like Rooster, and—

Fuck. 

He was a pilot. 

Matty just couldn’t win, could she?

“You weren’t saving this spot for someone, were you?” he asked after turning back away from the female pilot. The cadence of his voice was warm and inviting despite Matty internally wishing that his voice was squeaky and unattractive. 

She cleared her throat and glanced at the dark bar top. “Nope.” 

“Oh, good,” he nodded, still smiling. “Did you already order, then? I think the bartender—” 

“Penny is working on it,” Matty told him. He blinked, pausing slightly, before nodding once again. She supposed that he was trying to be nice, but Matty had to remind herself that nice guys were the ones she had the hardest time saying no to in the past. “It’s fine.” 

“You know Penny?” 

“Sure,” she shrugged, effortlessly cool, yet somehow still miserably failing at being outrightly dismissive. “Everybody around here does.” 

He turned at that so that he was facing her more than he was facing his friends, settling an arm on the bar in a nonchalant way that sent ripples up his toned arms and—where was Penny with those drinks? 

“Oh, well, yeah,” he said, scratching the back of his neck for a moment, before adding, “I guess I didn’t realize you were from around here.”

“Taking a census, are you?”

Her deadpan response provoked a laugh from his lips; not quite the reaction she had been going for, but for once, she didn’t really mind. He had a nice laugh that matched his even nicer smile. 

And—pilot, pilot, pilot.

Matty tried to keep that in mind when he leant the fraction of an inch closer so that he didn’t have to shout so much. “Not doing a census, no, just like talking to pretty girls.”

He smiled again. This was a little flirtier, a tad bit cheekier, and damn if he couldn’t be on a calendar for Miramar pilots. 

“I’m Bradley,” he told her. 

I’m Matty, she almost said, the reply so smooth on her tongue that it practically felt unnatural not to give it. But she shouldn’t—couldn’t—if she wanted to stick to her rules. So, instead, she smiled right back and chirped, “yeah? Good for you.” 

“Alright,” he nodded, taking her dismissal in stride. “If I buy you a drink, do I get a name?”

“I already ordered my drinks, remember?”

“Ah,” he snapped his fingers, offering up an expression of mock remembrance. “I almost forgot. You’re not waiting on someone, and you already ordered your drinks from Penny. Right. You just got it all worked out already, don’t you?”

“Pretty much.” 

He tsked, shoulders sinking with a sigh, as he tapped his hand on the bar counter. “Well, then, that only leaves with me one option.”

“Oh?”

“I guess I need to just go ahead and ask for your phone number,” he shrugs, as if it really is the only thing he can do. “I mean, normally I would say some stupid pick up line and then introduce myself, get a laugh or two from you, tell you that I think your name is just as beautiful as you are—of course, that's a given—and then I would ask for your number while buying you a drink. You’re really kind of ruining my routine here.” 

“A shame,” she snorts, rolling her eyes, and trying her darndest not to smile. 

It’s hard though. Especially when he is so unabashed in his flirting, so unbothered by her tone, and so fucking cute. 

“There’s always next time,” he whistled. “Unless you want me to start over?”

Matty leant on the bar. On the one hand, she wanted to tell him to get lost. On the other hand, he was cute and had a good sense of humor, and seemed to be in a good enough mood that she might actually feel bad if she shattered it callously just because of her silly rules not to engage with pilots. 

Still, when Penny brushed by with a curious look, Matty had to remind herself that one option was better than the other. “You can try,” she said, the implication that it wouldn’t be a successful attempt clear in her tone. 

Yet, for some reason, he stuck around.  

“Ah, c’mon, you don’t even know what I was gonna say,” he told her, leaning on the bar with just enough of a flex of the arms that she couldn’t help but look even if she didn’t want to. Bradley’s smile widened. The little shit obviously knew what he was doing. “Ready?”

“Alright then,” she waved a hand at him impatiently. “Let’s get this over with.” 

He made a show of standing up straighter, combing his hair, adjusting his shirt so that it hung just right, before leaning back onto the bar as if he had just shown up. “Hey, this is really weird, but I think there’s something wrong with me phone. Your number isn’t on it.” 

Matty couldn’t help herself and laughed loud enough that the nearby pilots could hear. The blonde from earlier—having recently vacated the dart board—glared at them from across the bar top. 

“That was horrible,” she told him matter-of-factly. 

“In a good way, though.”

“No, in a horrible way,” she tsked, slowly calming down from her laughter, and now truly struggling to keep a smile off of her face. Rules, rules, rules, she reminded herself while clearing her throat. “Maybe you should go find someone else to waste that line on.” 

“I kind of like wasting it on you though.” 

Matty curled a sharp brow at that, but somehow managed to keep from smiling again. What a reckless mess that would be. “I hate to tell you this, but you’re hitting on the wrong girl.” 

“That’s perfect then,” he shrugs, before smoothly saying, “because I didn’t tell you this yet, but I’m Mr. Right. I think we’d be a perfect pair.” 

His friends snicker to themselves over his shoulder at the obvious line, and as Bradley turns to shoot them a dark look that effectively shuts up their eavesdropping, Matty squares her shoulders. And when he turns back to face her, she actively tries to appear as disinterested as possible. 

“Look, you’re seriously wasting your time,” she tells him, only now managing to be a little bit more serious and a little less flirty. “If you had been around here much before tonight, you would know that I am not the girl to hit on. There’s plenty others though that would be totally into... this.” 

Bradley arches a brow high on his forehead, nearly touching the perfectly coifed curls that were resting against his tan skin at that. His smile was still bright and gentle, but there was a shine of curiosity in his eyes now. “You a big deal around here or something?”

“Or something,” she simpers.

If her attitude was off putting, he didn’t comment on it. 

Instead, he takes a long neck of his drink before gesturing to her with his free hand. “Well? Are you gonna give me an introduction? Since I’m new around here, I think it’s only fair that I know the local big deal so I don’t get myself into trouble without knowing it.” 

Damn him. Matty sighs at his continued persistence; even worse was the way she found herself wanting to stick around in conversation with him. Still, she knew. Better to shoot him down now before his plane got any wind under the wings—a fiery crash on the runway was less likely to hurt them both than a nosedive from the sky.

“Alright, fine. I’m not interested.” 

“Not interested, huh?” he hums while picking at the label on his beer bottle. “That’s an interesting name. Are your parents multicultural or something?”

It surprises her how quickly his response comes; so laid back, unoffended, without that familiar lightning strike of ego that boys like him often had provoked when she said something so upfront and defensive. But what surprises her more was the laugh that once again bubbles at the back of her throat.

Definitely not good.

A cute pilot with a sense of humor? Oh no, Matty knew better than to go down that road—not fucking likely if she had anything to say about it.

“Look, Buddy—” she starts.

“Bradley.”

“Bradley,” she corrects with a huff, “I don’t date flyboys.”

“Flyboys? Isn’t that term a few decades old?” Matty shoots him a baleful look at his humorous response, to which he just shrugs with that same easy going smile of his. If she had to guess—and she was usually right about these sort of things considering the majority of men all shared the same two brain cells—he was amusing himself by riling her up because his caveman brain associated a pissed off female with a horny one. “We don’t even know each other. Why are you so certain that I’m a pilot?”

To this, she cocks a brow and a hip. “Seriously?”

“I mean, I’m more than happy to play twenty questions with you, but that sort of borders first date territory, doesn’t it?” he says.

“No thanks,” she deadpans. “Besides, I’ve been around long enough to see you pilots come through training every couple of months. I knew you were one the second I laid eyes on you, buddy.” 

“It’s Bradley,” he corrects once more, amused at himself and at getting the chance to poke a little fun at her. “And how do you know I’m not a backseater?”

“Because you have that look.” 

“Look?”

Matty doesn’t explain, and just as he’s about to ask, Penny settles a tray of shots into the open bar space between them. She gives Matty a look—one that says what the hell are you doing still talking to him?—which only further prompts the blonde to focus on why she was here, and not why she wasn’t. 

Winking at Penny, Matty turns to Bradley, and promptly tells him, “WSOs don’t have that stupid swagger that you’re walking around with.” 

Bradley leans back an inch, frowning down at himself as if he's trying to pinpoint the swagger she’s indicating, and Matty takes pleasure in poking the pair of sunglasses hanging off of his shit. 

“Oh, and the aviators? They are decades old and a dead fucking give away,” she tells him before promptly throwing back the shot of amber tequila. It burns all the way down, relaxing the coiled muscles in her shoulders, and as she slams the empty glass back down onto the counter, Matty finds something cheeky worming its way along her tongue. “You meet your new instructor yet?"

His frown becomes perturbed as he coils a brow at her; no longer flirty, but curious, and slightly concerned. “No?” 

Matty hums. “Well, you and your friends might want to check your egos on the tarmac then; there’s really not enough room for both of them when you’re up in the sky with that smartass.” 

She heaves the tray onto her shoulder before turning away from the bar.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asks, only to be ignored as she surveys the bar. Boomer and George were already making their way outside, and she figures it was now or never if she wanted to rein them in from their gambling. Matty winks at Glasses on her way past as Bradley shouts, “wait! Seriously. Can I at least have your phone number?”

“Like I said,” she coils a foxy look in his direction, taking pleasure in the way he stands a little straighter beside his friends. “I don’t date pilots.” 

Matty never knew if he took offense to that. 

Probably, considering that every pilot everywhere had the ego of a goddamned Olympian, but the crowd swallows her up before she gets the chance to see his reaction. Fine by her; she hadn’t come to the bar to get hit on by this month’s latest crew of aviators. Instead, she had come to get drunk with her friends.

Friends that hoot upon seeing her arrive with the shots.

“Fuckin’ took you long enough,” Boomer crows, grinning wildly when she lays the shots down on the table. Everyone grabs their respective glass as he juts his chin towards the bar. “Another newbie trying to fuck?”

“They get more and more resilient every year," she jokes with an airy sigh. Claire snorts, amused, and makes a crude joke about why women were always better than men as George tosses an arm over Matty's shoulder with an endearing smirk.

“Yeah, well, fuck them,” he tells her. “I’ll keep you company, Matts.” 

“My hero,” she bats her eyes at him. The rest of the table laughs; all the boys having taken turns keeping Matty from fighting off pilots, all deeply amused each time it happens, so they know that despite her not needing the help, she enjoyed it all the same. Next, she turns her attention the only man she wants to spend attention on tonight. “Happy Birthday Eggs!’

Eggs laughs in response as the others share their sentiments, pink flushing his dark skin until his cheeks were the characteristic rosy color of someone that was a step too close to being drunk. He takes only a moment to think before raising his shot glass in return, proclaiming, “to fixing shit that shouldn’t be broken.” 

“And to breaking shit that should never be fixed!” the rest of the table responds in their self-proclaimed motto.

Together, they clink their glasses, cheer, and then throw back the Jaeger with varying degrees of disgust. In unison, seven glasses were slammed onto the table, and suddenly Matty finds herself forgetting all about egos, pilots, and cute boys like Bradley.

Afterall, he was a pilot. And rules were rules. 

She didn’t break them for anyone. 

***taglist (thanks for asking!) @callsignbarb @coyotesamachado @shanimallina87

[skywriterjade]

I mentioned this on the Fanworks server, but I figured it wouldn't hurt to release it to the wild too. (No I'm not trying to trick my brain into giving up on it so I don't add another WIP to the mountain. Psh! Such rumours)

Any who! I had a grand idea for a crackfic where Marinette is sick, like down bad with the cold or something and nothing they have home is helping much beyond keeping it below "hospitalization levels" of bad. So, Kagami tucks her poor ailing wife up in bed with a good dose of painkillers, an ice pack and fluids at their bedside table while she treks out into the wilderness to acquire a remedy for that which ails her partner(takes a cab and the subway to Marinette’s parents' place for some a medicine Ms. Cheng swears by)

Upon her return home she finds their bed completely devoid of anything human or human shaped. Worried that Marinette might need her help but confident that she should at least be in the house, she sets out hunting. She did have to look far. She finds Marinette deliriously measuring and pinning and sketching away in her design studio, rambling on about orders that are due soon. Kagami just barely rescues a champagne evening gown from becoming a cocktail dress with an...interesting brocade train.

Thus begins a battle of wills as Kagami attempts to wrangle her wayward wife back to bed😂

[holyguardian]

💋 (have a smooch!)

💋 to abruptly kiss Aerith.

The impromptu 'girl's getaway' had been a balm for Aerith's soul. It couldn't really be called a getaway considering they were still in Midgar, but they were far enough away from their homes and their jobs and their responsibilities for it to feel like a real vacation.

Mel insisted on paying for the hotel room — Aerith complained that she could help too, and a compromise was reached. Mel took care of the room, and Aerith was in charge of the wine and dining they were set to do. The accommodation was in Sector 8, inside a brand new high rise that boasted a 5-star rating right in the middle of the entertainment district. Which didn't mean much at all to her, considering it was her first hotel room. Like, ever.

Their day had been a pleasant whirlwind of shops, a visit to a nail salon where Aerith discovered she was incredibly ticklish where her toes were concerned and a lot of new discoveries as they walked around the ever-changing district.

Come afternoon, they were sipping their cocktails of choice poolside at the hotel. It had been an excellent call on Mel's behalf to insist they find bikinis on their shopping adventure.

It had been around that time when Aerith started to really notice Mel. For the longest time she had viewed her through a platonic lens, and the sudden attraction all but slapped her between the eyes. Though she only had one drink she dismissed her mood as being tipsy. After all, she was naturally a caretaker, and likely viewed Aerith as one of her girls she nestled under her wing. It was wrong of her to challenge a dynamic that was so wholesome.

It was an internal rollercoaster.

There were many reasons stacked up as to why she shouldn't. It would be a disservice to someone who was a pillar in her life, it was a reckless impulse, it would be utterly blindsiding — and yet, Aerith found herself looking at Mel. She was a little more flirty. A little more familiar.

And this wasn't the Queen's first time on the receiving end of a wayward flirtationship.

Melissa had likely kept a keen eye the moment Aerith's behaviour shifted. When they arrived back at their room to decompress before their dinner plans, Aerith found herself pulled into the bathroom where she and Melissa both looked at each other in the reflection of the mirror.

"I can see you, my flower." Melissa spoke with a knowing smile. Aerith had the grace to look a little guilty, but the expression slowly faded when her lower lip was brushed by Melissa's thumb. Sweet Gaia, if she wasn't tipsy before, she was already drunk from that simple touch alone.

Then Melissa guided Aerith to turn her head fully, her hand cradling her face, a gentle control. She looked her in the eye, looked right into her soul, and guided her into such a confident kiss that Aerith dumbly experienced but failed to participate.

They parted and Melissa gently brushed her thumb across her cheek. She had completely and utterly captivated the flower girl in the span of an afternoon. "Come. You have a date to prepare for." And just like that Melissa walked out of the bathroom and gently closed the door.

It left Aerith doubting reality for a few long moments. Stupid girl. Stupid flustered girl, she just stood there — it was like being visited upon by a goddess, and instead of leaving an offering of worship she had tripped and fell over the altar making a grand mess.

[aoyama-division]

The doorbell to the Chōten estate rang throughout the residence. The butler, Akiharu Hino, answered the door and looked as it was a delivery man, carrying a black medium sized box with a shiny golden bow on top of it. The delivery man cleared his throat, “Package for Mister Tomi Chōten from Ms. Miho Kobayashi.” He announced, the butler promptly signed for the package, taking it from the delivery man before shutting the door. Despite how large the box was, it was surprisingly quite light.

Walking to the mansion’s living room, the butler looked as his master was sitting on the couch, languidly scrolling on his phone on one hand and nursing an cocktail he had prepared for him earlier with the other. Clearing his throat, Hino presented the present Miho got for him, “A package for you, Master Tomi.”

Tomi raised an eyebrow and frowned, looking at the gift with uninterested eyes, he knew that today would be the prime time for people to bombarde them with gifts and he expected as such but it still never not get exhausting. “Put it with the others.” He waved the butler off but Hino merely pushed the gift closer. “I’m not quite sure that is a good idea, Master Tomi, for this gift is from Lady Kobayashi.” The butler had a knowing glint in his eyes.

Now that seemed to have grabbed Tomi’s attention as he placed both his phone and drink down and grabbed the box from Hino, giving the butler a slight glare “Why didn’t you start with that..” The socialite muttered as he peeled away the bow and took off the lid, revealing three items…

The first item was an expensive and carefully crafted Rolex watch, while slightly simple in appearance, it still had enough elegance for it to be considered more than your average Rolex.

The second item made Tomi’s eyes lit up slightly as it was an entire box of Royal Courtesan, his favorite cigar brand. This couldn’t have come at a better time, he thought as he picked up one, inspecting it as it was indeed the real deal, he was running low but looks like he didn’t have to order more.

The third and last item was a vinyl record famous classical masterpieces throughout history such as Brahms, Chopin, Debussy, and more all in violin.

Now with all the gifts out of the box the only thing that was left was simply a letter, written in pure black ink and in beautiful penmanship.

‘My Dearest,

I wish you a very pleasant birthday, I wish I could visit but as you know, I am a very busy woman, just know that you are always in my thoughts. I know how exasperated you seem to get during this time so I will keep this short, I’ve gotten you some gifts that I thought you might enjoy, of course, I know you could’ve just gotten all of these yourself but you have to admit it’s much nicer to receive such gifts for free than paying out of your own pocket. I hope they reach you safely and I also hope that you do at least enjoy yourself a little on your special day.’

Sincerely,

Miho Kobayashi

P.S. That Rolex you have there belonged to Paul Newman, a very famous American actor if I’m correct, it’s the most expensive watch up to date, worth millions if not billions. If you’re wondering how I acquired such an artifact, I’ll be more than willing to tell you over dinner if you’re free tonight.’

Happy Birthday Tomi! 💛

Tomi had just finished a two-hour-long bath after having to deal with a certain "gift" from a certain miscreant from Shinagawa. It had taken him a long time to get all that glitter off of him, and now his bathtub (along with certain parts of his bathroom) looked like a clown had exploded all over it. Even now, he could still feel parts of those small, colorful particles all over him. His servants assured him that none of them remained on him, but he wasn't so sure himself. He was just grateful that the slime smell was gone.

"How a refined and beautiful woman like Miho-san could possibly be the aunt of such a debased and immoral heathen such as her wayward niece is beyond even my understanding..." he thought.

Wrapped in a bathrobe, he took a gander at Miho's letter once more and a smile formed on his face. After reading it, he had ordered Hino to cancel the rest of his plans after 6 P.M. He knew his parents and guests would not be happy, but he didn't care. If the choice was between spending time with a woman who really understood him and cared for him and mingling with a bunch of people he couldn't give one whit about, then the decision was very obvious. He looked at the Rolex watch she had bequeathed him and smiled as it was a good fit for his wrist.

Looking at his suit that Hino had prepared for him in the bath, he nodded as it was clean and looked like it had the first day he purchased it. Tonight was definitely going to be a good night; he could hardly wait...

[gaygryffindorgal]

A Christmas Prince, the masterpost

In this post you'll find all the chapters from mine and @potionboy3's A Christmas Prince AU!

A fake trailer A Christmas Prince, the announcement The Royal Wedding, the announcement

Part 1: A Christmas Prince

Chapter 1, A Wayward Prince

Chapter 2, The Queen Will See You Now

Chapter 3, The Princess's Companion

Chapter 4, Cocktail Parties and Christmas Carols

Chapter 5, Old Friends and New

Chapter 6, When in Alderly

Chapter 7, Indecision

Chapter 8, The Christmas Ball

Chapter 9, Quincey's Decision

Chapter 10, Alderly's Past, Present, and Future

Chapter 11, Bristol

Part 2: The Royal Wedding

Chapter 1, Back to Alderly

Chapter 2, Krampus

Chapter 3, The Princess and the Ogre

Chapter 4, All the World's a Stage

Chapter 5, The Breaking Point

Chapter 6, Two Sides of the Same Coin

Chapter 7, Something Old, Something New

Part 3: TBA