#.... no wait non-alcoholic beer exists... but then again I do not have a taste for them....

[teal-skull]

re: white gilgamesh

it tasted bad. it tastes like beer. if you don't like beer don't drink it. to be fair the one I had was made with shit beer, but it still tasted awful. also don't microwave it

Hehe, no worries, I wasn't actually going to drink it, specifically because of the beer. As a teetotaling skeleton the beer would just flow straight through my ribcage to the floor and I would have to mob that mess. However the goat milk would get soaked up in my calcium-addicted bones, that's something I could at least give a try some day.

Also, why would some one microwave a drink containing beer though??

[hyunjilicious]

body shots [bucky barnes]

A/n: I word vomited this in 20 minutes and I fucking need this in my life. This is literally just a college AU with minimal plot + shy!innocent!bucky with a twist

Summary: you’re the popular girl and Bucky is the nerd no one talks to. What happens when you finally confess you have a crush on him? 2.1k

Warnings: ok, I always try to not describe the reader at all, but in order for the things in this fic to be able to happen, the reader has to have boobs that aren’t... you know... non-existent like mine lol. Language, alcohol and I think that’s it?

-

“Come on” you giggled, your tormenting gaze consuming the whole of Bucky’s being. He fidgeted with the hem of his shirt, eyes awkwardly avoiding yours, in a pathetic attempt to get himself out of his situation. You followed his gaze, looking over the sea of people, but nothing caught your eye. You turned to him, frustration curling your brows, “Please, Bucky”

“No” he whined, throwing his head to the side as the softest of smiles danced at the corner of his lips. Deep down, judging by his pink cheeks and glossy eyes, you knew he wanted to let loose. It was probably the surroundings that inhibited him, that kept him tied to the corner of the room, one red cup of beer in his hand. “I’m not-” he cringed, gesturing towards the tens of already inebriated young adults around the two of you, “I can’t. I’m not one of you guys”

“You can be” you giggled seductively, grabbing his hand into yours. He stiffened against your touch but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he watched you closely, his perfectly innocent blue eyes curiously watching yours, looking for confirmation. Were you really hitting on him? He was oblivious to the moon and back, but even so, your intentions were a bit too obvious.

He contemplated it for a second. You raised your eyebrows, sending him a wordless question and he actually thought about it for a minute, his mouth popping open before he regained himself. Bucky shook his head, chuckling with embarrassment, “Are you making fun of me?”

Your heart broke. “No” you squeezed his hand tighter into yours, “Of course I’m not” you added, Although your tone was somewhat stern, your voice almost cracked as you failed to hide just how much his question hurt. “Why would you think that? Bucky, if I ever did anything-”

“No” he cut you off. Your sudden change in attitude worried him, and now his words drowned in guilt. “You never did anything wrong. I’m sorry.”

“What is it?” you questioned, dragging him by his hand to a nearby table. You put your own glass down, and turned to him, “Tell me”

“It’s nothing” Bucky shook his head, silently laughing as he stared at your shoes.

“Why don’t you want to dance with us?”

“I don’t like dancing,” he shrugged.

“See?” you smiled, wrapping both your hands around his. “If you had told me that from the beginning I would have dropped it. But you told me you don’t think you’re one of us. What does that mean? And you asked me if I’m making fun of you. I would never, Bucky”

Despite the speakers blasting music loud enough to make the windows shake, silence settled between the two of you. You awaited his answer, softly rubbing your thumb across his knuckles. 

“I feel stupid” he shook his head, “I don’t even know what I’m doing at this party. No one wants me here anyway”

“I want you here”

“You’re just saying that because you’re a nice person”

“I’m not nice enough to go around and make sure everyone feels welcome”

“Then why are you here with me?” he scoffed.

“Because I like you?” you hesitated despite it being the truth, and felt your ears burst into flames. In some way, you felt a deep pain in the depths of your chest as you spoke the words, but as soon as they left your mouth, you actually felt relieved. “I liked you for some time, but I had no idea how to approach you, so I thought maybe you’d want to dance with me.”

There was nothing but confusion on his features. His eyes studied yours, looking for the lie. He gawked and all but gasped when you maintained the eye contact and sent him a sweet, reassuring smile. “You like me?” Bucky asked, “Why?”

“Don’t be like that” you frowned, “You’re amazing”

“You don’t know me”

“But I want to”

He bitterly chuckled, the disbelief in his tone sounding almost condescending. “No, you don’t”

“Listen” you said, “If it’s really dancing that you don’t like, we can do something else. We can, I don’t know, talk, do shots? Race down the street or sit down on the porch and roll the joints for these dumbasses. But if it’s me that you don’t like, tell me and I’ll go now and won’t bug you again”

“You’re not bugging me,” Bucky said, his voice barely audible.

“Really?” you beamed almost not able to believe your ears, “Do you wanna-”

“Let’s, um” he laughed, “Let’s dance.”

You weren’t going to object - it was what you came to this shitty party for anyway. Keeping your hand tightly secured around his, you dragged him through the room, searching for a darker corner of the dance floor. You knew he was already somewhat uncomfortable and didn’t want to make everything worse by having him end up in the middle of a mosh pit or something worse.

“Hey there!” Clint’s voice reached your ears. You stopped dead in your tracks and cursed under your breath before turning to face him.

Bucky looked confused and cornered while Clint was as smug as ever.

“This is a party, not a nerd fest, Y/n. The fuck’s he doing here?”

Nostrils flaring, you swallowed your anger and stared him down as you wrapped an arm around Bucky’s frame, “Why are you such an asshole?”

“It’s ok” Bucky tried to butt in.

“No, it’s not” you objected.

“How come the princess of this campus is the one with the balls in this relationship?”

Feeling Bucky tense, you took a deep breath, and decided to ignore the erroneous assumption. “He’s just too polite to sink to your level. But I’m not. So beat it, Clint.”

He pretended to turn around and leave, but stopped and faced you one more time, his expression hazardous. “I just wanna know. Were you his first kiss?”

You all but lunged at him to slap his cheek. And you would have done it had Bucky not stopped you at the last moment. 

“Wow!” Clint exclaimed, and turned to Bucky. “How the fuck did you land that piece of ass?” he asked, nodding towards you, “You can even hold you ground”

Bucky scoffed, and shifted his weight from one leg to the other. He looked around the room, slightly amused as you waited for his reaction. “I can very much hold my ground.”

“Prove it,” Clint taunted. “Prove you’re not a pussy”

“God” you rolled your eyes, but he continued.

“You two. Body shots” Clint commanded, eager to see Bucky chicken out.

“Oh, jesus christ!” you scoffed, “What are you, 14?”

Just when Clint was about to laugh and claim the win, Bucky nonchalantly accepted the challenge. “Sure”

“Bucky-” you turned to him, “We don’t have to do this, who cares what Clint has to-”

“You don’t wanna do it?” Bucky asked, looking down at you, his eyes cold and determined, nothing like they were before. He smiled lewdly, a smile that hid a lot. The hairs on your body stood up, yet you agreed through a simple nod.

Much to Clint’s surprise, Bucky led you to the bar, his grip strong around your waist as he guided you across the room. “Who goes first?”

“I don’t… I don’t care” you mumbled, amazed and still in shock following his sudden change of attitude.

“Come on” Bucky smiled, and fisted the back of his collar, elegantly pulling his sweater over his head. He handed it to you, and for a second you wondered why he was wearing both a sweater and a shirt, but this thought was wiped from your mind, literally obliterated, blown to pieces, fucking erased when your eyes landed on his naked top half. 

The music had been turned down, everyone around you watching carefully. Girls who otherwise would have never looked in his direction gawked and giggled to one another, unable to look away from him. And frankly, neither could you. From his chiseled and defined abs, to his tan chest and the unearthly, bloodcurdling scars that littered his frame, you found yourself struggling to function properly. Who was this guy?

Bucky sat on the bar, a slice of lemon in between his fingers. “Where do you want it?” he asked, waving the salt around.

“Wherever you want it, Bucky!” you shook your head, enthusiastically smiling from ear to ear, “You got it”

“It’s your turn to choose” he urged you.

“Fine” you grinned, “Lean back”

With a side smirk, he laid down on the bar, his chest and abdomen on full display for you and everyone else in the room. You moved to stand by his side, your left hand on his massive thigh as you peppered salt in on the dips in his abdomen. His whole frame rose with every breath he took, and by the second, your need for him grew stronger.

Bucky placed his warm hand on your hip. “Whenever you’re ready”

“Oh, I’m ready all right” you giggled, grabbing your shot.

Before slipping the lemon slice between his teeth, Bucky sent you a wink, and you pussy didn’t fail to respond in an instant. All eyes were on you, whispers and gossip all over, but you drowned them out as you leaned down and licked your way up his body. His abdominal muscles clenched under your tongue, yet somehow off his skin, the salt tasted sweet. You downed the tequila and moved towards his face, your teeth gently grabbing onto the lemon slice as your heart beat out of your chest. And of course he didn’t let go too easily. 

Close to bursting into nervous laughter, you opened your eyes, finding his blue ones menacingly staring at you. You were ready to pull away without that damned slice in order to just breathe, but then he unclenched his jaw. You exhaled with relief, his lips brushing against yours before you managed to stand up.

And when you did, you felt disheveled. The amount of tension that tortured your mind during these seconds compared to nothing you had ever experienced before. Every part of your body burned and you sucked on that poor lemon slice for too fucking long in order to pull yourself back together. 

“Your turn” Bucky teased, sitting up. You met his eyes and chuckled. “You don’t have to take your shirt off if you don’t want to,” he announced but you rolled our eyes and scoffed.

“Yeah, right”

After ushering Bucky off the bar, you watched him dress himself back up. When he was ready, you took his spot and salaciously grinned at him as you pulled your top over your head, your breasts inches away from his hungry eyes.

“Lean on your elbows, doll” he said, and you almost burst into flames at the pet name.

You did as told and lowered yourself back.

Tens of people watched you, yet the only eyes you cared about were Bucky’s. He stared at you as if he was going to eat you alive, and frankly, at this point, you were willing to beg for it.

“Take this” he said, placing another slice of lemon between your teeth, before grabbing the salt and pouring a healthy amount across your breasts.

As he lowered himself over your body, you heaved in anticipation, your chest nearing his face with every tortured breath you took. And when it happened, it felt like pure electricity attacked your body. His devilish tongue brushed against your skin, around the curve of your tits, his breath hot and wet as a smile was visible at the corners of his mouth.

You continued to watch him as he straightened his back to take the shot, and almost choked on the slice between your teeth when he leaned down again. He didn’t hold back, his lips crashing against yours, the aggravation of his movement making the lemon juice drip down your chin. And this could’ve gone so much differently, but he had a task. Bucky ripped the slice away from your teeth, pulling away as he munched on it.

You were lost. Completely and utterly in pure awe with this man. In a matter of minutes he went from a cute nerd you were soft for, to a sculptured man who you were fucking weak for. And judging by his proud expression, he knew it.

“Ok, ok, fine, fuck it” Clint called, his voice pulling you out of your thoughts. “I fucking take everything back. Though you, Buck-” he added, “Could fucking ditch the dweb attire and maybe… I don’t know, stop being fucking weird., cause man-” he whistled, looking Buck up and down before turning around and leaving without another word.

“Oh my god” you laughed, and so did Bucky.

You wanted to stand up, but he was quicker, grabbing your waist and helping you to your feet. “Got some shit I need to tell you about me” he confessed, his voice low, right against your ear.

“No shit” you scoffed, slapping his chest.

“Your place or mine?”

“Whichever is closer”

[jazzistolkienfanfics]

Drinks On Me - Fili x reader

*sexyback plays in the background*

okay guys ever since i followed @guardianofrivendell​ and started getting a lot of fili stuff on my dash, especially about how fili doesn’t get enough fics, i have decided to write one whilst i wait for requests (to make you guys happy with what you’re reading)

anyway this is thanks for your quality content @guardianofrivendell​!

Type: Imagine Pairing: Fili x reader  Summary: Y/N, a dwarrowdam of Erebor, does not enjoy drinks at all. post-BOTFA, everyone lives!AU Warnings: drunkenness, drinks getting spiked, some sadness but it’s all good, ‘shit’ Word Count:

Y/N enjoyed many things about her Dwarven culture, but the continuous drinking was not one of them. It made everyone around her drunk, loud and irritating. And then she was the one who led a horse-cart full of wasted Dwarves to the infirmary. 

But honestly, when they weren’t passed out from excessive drinking games, Dwarves were awesome to be around. And that’s why Y/N loved to be one.

She laughed as she grabbed four tankards of overflowing ale and beer from the bartender, the froth splashing onto her hands. Music blared through the small club-setting, fiddles and songs in a most jolly tune. Chatter echoed off the stone walls and everyone had a smile fixed upon their faces. 

Y/N set down the tankards at her favourite corner table, dimly illuminated by a torch above her head. Soon enough, the Dwarves she’d gotten the drinks for showed up as if summoned by some spell. Two familiar, two not so, though this was never something of concern - Dwarves were very sociable with one another and bringing round one’s friends for a drink was quite common.

The first familiar Dwarf was young, with fairly short brown hair in a loose style symbolising his youth, an almost non-existent beard, but a twinkling smile that made up for everything un-Dwarvish about him.

The second Y/N recognised with a flutter of her heart and a wide grin. His hair was longer than that of his brother’s, a blond that shone beautifully in the fiery light, braided in multiple braids, and grey-blue eyes deep with emotion and wisdom, but a spark of fun and irresponsibility.

“Kili, Fili,” Y/N nodded in greeting, shoving the drinks across the table in a graceful slide. “Who’re they?”

Kili pointed at first a black-haired Dwarf, then at a redhead. “Draigo and Khat.”

Khat the redhead gave a small wave and smile, but something about the pasty Draigo made Y/N wary. She still did her best to be polite, greeting them both warmly.

“There are five of us,” Draigo spoke up. “And four drinks. Who’s missing out?”

“Oh,” Y/N smiled uncomfortably. “That would be me. I don’t drink.”

“A Dwarf that does not enjoy their drink is indeed a strange one,” Khat observed, though it was not unkindly.

“Indeed,” Draigo repeated. The way he said it made Y/N shiver almost unnoticeably. 

She shook it off. “I do enjoy a good party though.”

Fili laughed. “That you do.” He stood, extending his hand to her with a raise of an eyebrow. “May I have this dance?”

Ignoring her heart, which seemed determined to burst out of her chest, she accepted his hand and let him drag her, laughing, onto the dance floor of sorts.

The tune had picked up, and Fili whirled Y/N around, laughing. She squealed happily when he grabbed her waist and lifted her into the air, spending the whole time looking into his eyes.

She couldn’t stop herself from being attracted to him, though he was definitely above her station. It wasn’t that Y/N was of a low station - she was one of few dwarrowdams who didn’t stay veiled in secrecy in the cavernous homes of the Dwarves, instead an honoured warrior. But Fili was a prince and the heir to the throne of Erebor, which didn’t exactly make him the most available of suitors.

But Y/N didn’t want to focus on that tonight - all she wanted was to have fun with her best friend. Because she knew that was all he was going to stay.

---

They’d been dancing for what felt like hours before Y/N got tired, stumbling back to the table with her arm linked with Fili’s in some joyful skip.

“Hi, Y/N!” Kili grinned, snapping his head up from his conversation with Khat. “Look, I got you a drink!”

“Thanks, Kili!” Y/N said, taking it and sniffing it tentatively. “Nothing alcoholic I hope?”

“No, it’s ‘arshalwurshalk,” Kili explained. Y/N immediately downed the entire thing. ‘Arshalwurshalk happened to be one of her favourite drinks - being warm and sugary. 

She dragged Fili back onto the dance floor, letting him twirl her around again. When they got back, Khat had generously paid for another non-alcoholic drink for Y/N. She thanked him heartily, again drinking the whole thing.

She didn’t even notice how strange it and the previous drink had tasted before she slumped onto the table face-down.

“Y/N - Y/N!” Fili shouted, shaking her and turning her over. Her head fell limply, her eyes closed and lips parted. Fili placed one of his fingers above them, relieved when he felt her breath.

“What did you do?” he roared at Khat. The redhead looked genuinely terrified, and Kili had also rushed to Y/N’s side.

Draigo just gave a low chuckle. “So passing out is what happens when you consume several shots of alcohol when you haven’t had it before.”

Fili realised with sickening hindsight what had happened. He turned to Draigo, his eyes blazing with barely veiled rage. “You. You did this.”

His only response was another laugh. Fili shoved him against a wall, letting the bouncers deal with him. 

“Y/N ...” he lifted the comatose girl into his arms gently, being careful not to jostle her. “I’m sorry.”

---

Y/N flew upwards into a sitting position, her hands finding her throat. She’d had the most awful nightmare about the Dwarf from last night, Draigo.

Wait. Last night. Where am I?

She couldn’t remember anything from last night, she realised in terror. 

A sickening feeling crawled up her throat, and she threw aside the sheets of the bed, retching over the side of it into a conveniently placed bucket. She crawled back up against the multiple pillows piling against the headboard, curling her arms around her legs in a painful display of frailty.

I got drunk, Y/N realised, her eyes wide and a shocked tear splattering onto the bedcover. I got drunk, and I broke my promise.

Y/N had seen firsthand the effects of alcohol on a family. It tore one apart with a vicious coldness, destroying everything. The alcohol still burned in her throat, and she’d never felt more awful. 

“You look like shit.”

Y/N let her legs fall back onto the bed at the voice, turning to see who its owner was.

Fili walked in, coming to sit on the bed next to her. He looked ... worried, Y/N was touched to see. He reached over with a golden goblet. She flinched away from it.

“Oh, sorry!” Fili rushed to apologise. “Don’t worry, Y/N. It’s only water, I promise.”

She took it hesitantly and sipped it, relieved when she could taste none of the burning bitterness of alcohol. 

“What exactly happened last night?” she asked in a low voice. 

Fili winced. “Long story short, your drinks were spiked. A lot of shots, from what I heard. But that doesn’t matter. Are you okay?”

“No,” Y/N responded, the word small and trembling. She couldn’t hold it in anymore, and turned to burst into tears on Fili’s shoulder. Fili pulled her into him, stroking her back comfortingly as she let all of the sobs of her system.

“It’s going to be okay,” he promised her, and she could tell he meant to keep it. “It will be.”

He kissed her forehead gently as they each pulled away and Y/N gave a tearful smile.

Best friend. Maybe it won’t stay that way after all.

i hope you guys enjoyed! PLEASE KEEP REQUESTING!

[msjr0119]

One Temptation

Part 10

*This series is based on The Royal Romance characters who belong to Pixelberry - AU Plot switch*

Riley Brooks moves back to New York after leaving five years prior- struggling to get by in life she wanted to go home. After getting mugged, a woman and man come to her rescue and offer her a job at their strip club. A rich business man Liam Rhys is forced to visit the club as part of his bachelor party. What will happen that night?

Tags-if you want to be removed from the list, let me know 😊: @pedudley @kacie-0156 @loveellamae @annekebbphotography @burnsoslow @ladyangel70 @kingliam2019 @bbrandy2002 @butindeed @bascmve01 @drakewalker04 @captain-kingliamsqueen @duchessemersynwalker @drxkewalker @texaskitten30 @ibldw-main @kimmiedoo5 @nikkis1983 @gnatbrain @walker7519 @lodberg @cmestrella @kozabaji @hopefulmoonobject @addictedtodrakefanfic @angi15h @liamxs-world @rafasgirl23415 @notoriouscs @whenyourheartskipsabeat @jovialyouthmusic @nz1091 @yukinagato2012 @seriouslybadchoices @rainbowsinthestorm @cordonianroyalty @dcbbw @qammh-blog @jared2612 @princess-geek @desireepow-1986 @indiacater

A/N: This part is smaller than most, the next part will be posted once I’ve finished work or tomorrow.

Warnings: Swearing, abuse.

*****

I miss you. X

Hey, are you okay? I haven’t heard from you in a few days. X

Ri, I love you. Please text back. I just want to know that you are okay. X

Can I come and see you? X

Riley sighed as she re read all the messages that she had received from, messages that she hadn’t responded to as if they didn’t exist. It had been a few weeks since she had seen him in the hotel room. Waking up the following morning, she snuck out of the room. Regretting letting her feelings get the best of her- she knew it was best to just leave without saying a word. Maybe in time, they could gradually speak- when she was sober.

“I’m going to have to get you a bucket, are you coming down with something?” Gill asked as she walked over to Riley, noticing that she was pale, as she sipped the water behind the bar and was immediately sick.

“I don’t know? It must be that seafood that we ate last night. I’ve had an upset stomach since this morning...”

“Just stay behind the bar tonight, I’ll get you a bucket in case you can’t make it to the toilet. If you need time off, just go home.”

Staying behind the bar, she was hoping that this shift would go quickly. The usual punters attempted flirting with as they always did- as much as she tried, she tried to flirt back. But the smell of alcohol was making her feel instantly ill. Bending down, she discreetly puked up in the bucket on the floor.

“Hello, can I have a scotch please.”

“I’ll be one minute...” Wiping her mouth, she placed some gum in her mouth as she slowly stood up.

“Bertrand?”

“Hello, stranger.” Wiping his finger along the bar, he looked disgusted viewing all the dust and the sticky residue stuck on his finger like super glue. He was shocked to see her behind the bar, when she first arrived back in New York City- he was horrified when Maxwell blurted out that she was a stripper.

“What are you doing here?”

“It’s a free country.. I’m just checking that you are okay. You don’t look okay- you look as white as a sheet. You haven’t spoken to anyone - we were all concerned about you.”

“I’m fine, shouldn’t you be with Savannah? Congratulations by the way, how is the little bundle of joy?” Providing him with the drink, she explained that it was on the house to congratulate him on becoming a father- as well as ‘wetting the baby’s head’. She knew that this day was coming, but it still hurt knowing the day that their baby arrived could have been the day that she was holding her own bundle of joy.

“He’s amazing. We are having a get together tomorrow night, you should come and meet Bartie.”

“I might do, it depends if I can get time off work or not.” He’s going to be there. Covering her mouth, that all familiar taste made its way back in to her mouth.

“Are you pregnant?”

“No, don’t be fucking stupid...” fuck. I could be. Horror was soon written all over her face, of course Bertrand would assume this- Savannah was pregnant and had morning sickness, so he was now an expert knowing the symptoms.

“I ate seafood last night, I don’t think it’s agreed with my stomach...”

“Or maybe that little rendezvous you had in Times Square has had some consequences...” Perking his eyebrows up, he knew she was in denial- if she was indeed pregnant, he knew that she wouldn’t be alone- she would have support from everyone.

“How do you know about that?” Shaking his head, everyone knew. Due to the man explaining what had happened and him being concerned as she ran off and had ignored him ever since.

“He’s worried about you, he asked if anyone had spoken to you. What is it with you and hotel rooms?” He laughed attempting to make the situation a joke rather than it being a serious matter.

“You know me B. Whenever Liam had conferences with his father, I’d stay in the hotel room with him. Leo, in Florida- when he found me. Maxwell when we all got drunk in Vegas. And Drake, the hotel before we arrived at the ranch the following day..”

“Well we are meeting tomorrow at the Hilton, midtown. Who’s next on your hotel fuck list? You could use tomorrow as an opportunity.” See her frown at him, he laughed. “I’m joking! Thank you for the drink, Ri. I hope you can attend.”

*****

The sickness had deteriorated the day after, feeling relieved she was sure it was due to the food. Getting ready to go to hotel, she was a bag of nerves. Deep down she didn’t want to go- however as Bertrand said they were practically family years ago.

Arriving at the Hilton, she was greeting by a waiter who gave her a champagne flute. Gulping it in one, it would give her dutch courage that she most likely would need to survive the whole event. Scrutinising the room, she saw everyone- as well as Drake’s family. Fuck, I forgot about them. Just breathe, Riley. Bertrand noticed her stood vacant at the threshold. Carrying Bartie over towards her, she placed a fake smile onto her face.

“Bartie, this is Auntie Riley...” Riley placed her finger into the newborns open hand- his tiny fingers wrapped around her immediately with a tight grip.

“Hey, gorgeous... aw Bertrand he’s adorable.”

“Do you want to hold him?” Riley nodded, holding the newborn- she was in love immediately. Bartie began to panic, possibly sensing that his mother and father wasn’t present and that he was in a strangers arms. Natural instinct made her coo at Bartie, before singing him a lullaby. Whilst singing- she placed the baby's head in the crook of one arm and wrapped the other arm around him- she was scared of dropping or breaking him.

“You’re a natural...are you still up for those babysitting duties?” He said with an encouraging tone of voice. Looking up at him, she smiled softly.

“Of course I’ll babysit him. No B, I’m not a natural- I’m a woman. He probably just thinks that my breasts are Savannah’s. Although if you carry on drinking beer, you could grow some man boobs...”

“I’d usually be offended with your sarcasm, but it’s good to see you smile.”

“He’s so gorgeous isn’t he? Hello, Riley.” Shifting her gaze from Bartie, she looked up at the woman. The woman who could win so many oscars with her fake attitude.

“Hello, Mrs Walker. Erm - Bertrand, I think he’s hungry- he’s getting far too close to my breasts..” Bertrand bend down to collect his son, he knew that this was probably just an excuse to remove herself from Bianca’s presence.

“Can you stop following me please...”

“I just want to say sorry for everything I did to you in Texas. Bertrand has explained about your true personality and you sound like a really nice person. I feel awful for the way we treat you...”

“I loved your son, I just wanted to make a good impression. At the time, I’d actually given up work. Who told you that I was a prostitute? That question has been lingering in my mind this whole time...”

“Liam Rhys...” Of course, it was him. That slimy bastard. “Did he give you that money?”

“No, it was from Kiara’s father.” Sighing, she really didn’t want that name to be mentioned, it was just a reminder of more heartache that she had received.

“Thank you. See you around.”

“Riley, wait!” Rolling her eyes back, she couldn’t be bothered with anymore of Bianca’s games. Not quite believing her new sincere attitude, she wanted to keep a distance- a long distance away from the woman.

“I’m so sorry about the baby...” holding her tears back, she began to struggle concealing the emotions. “You are a natural as Bertrand said, I do apologise again.”

“I’d have had our baby by now, imagine if I did. You hated me before you even got to know me. What would you have been like with your grandchild? Ignored it because you had a vendetta against its mother? Please, don’t try and talk to me again Mrs Walker...”

****

Seeing him smirking and laughing with people, the tears that she held back were now non existent. Instead anger built up throughout her body. Just the sight of him made her feel physically sick, him acting as if he had done nothing wrong. Storming through the crowd towards him, his eyes widened seeing her face like thunder.

“Liam! A word now!”

“Riley, it’s nice to see you...” swinging her fist back- this had become her new hobby especially with Liam. The scotch that he was holding was soon all over the floor- as the glass shattered the room went mute.

“How could you do that to me?” The tears that she had held in soon resurfaced and fell down her face, as her chin began to tremble she was unable to prevent all of the emotions bursting out.

“Do what?” Coming closer towards her, he wiped the wetness that was smudging her make up- not that she cared in the slightest.

“I dropped the charges, you avoided punishments because of my stupid goddamn heart. I went for lunch with you. I thought we had closure. Then I find out that you was the reason behind the Walkers hating me!”

“You went for lunch with him?” Leo walked over with Maxwell and Drake, concerned overhearing the shouting. “What have you done now?”

“He told Drake’s family that I was a fucking goddamn prostitute..”

“Ri, that was before I saw you in Starbucks and we went for lunch. I felt awful for doing that, but he is engaged anyway... we put all that behind us. We had closure...” Smirking at Drake, Riley was too emotional to realise this- Liam knew it would get under his skin that he went for lunch with her. Hoping that this little ‘confession’ would fill Drake with jealousy and rage.

“I am not fucking engaged!”

“Does it fucking matter who’s engaged or not? Does it matter what I fucking do for a living? Why can’t you all just let me live my life? I was thinking about your daughter in all of this Liam, and all you do is fucking screw me over.. continue to fucking break my heart...”

“I’m sorry. I am grateful for you thinking about Alice. Have you made a decision about the offer that I offered you all those weeks ago in Times Square?”

“Go to hell, Liam.”

*****

Maxwell followed Riley, out of all the friends he believed that he was the closest to her- the one who’s daft antics would make her smile instantly.

“Are you okay?” Knowing this was an idiotic question to ask, he didn’t know why he asked her- grabbing the ice out of his cocktail, he rubbed it against swollen hand.

“Yeah.. my hands killing though...”

“You really should quit the bar work and become a professional boxer.” Max pretended to throw some punches towards her.

“Me the professional boxer and you the professional dancer. You totally showed off in front of all those dancers in Times Square.” Doing a re-enactment Of his dance moves from that night, she threw her back laughing.

“Of course I would, they were all amateurs... when Maxwell Beaumont is around no one has a chance... so what do you think about Bartie? Is he a Beaumont or a Walker?”

“Definitely a Walker looks wise, but that can change. Hopefully he takes after his uncle’s rather than his serious father.” Impersonating Bertrand, Maxwell nearly fell over laughing. Pulling her into a hug, he held her tightly- he had missed her.

“What are you laughing about?” Leo asked, as he is put his arms around Riley’s waist and kissed her on the cheek.

“Ask Riley to show you her impression of Bertrand... I’m going to steal a cuddle from my nephew- I need to win the best uncle award.”

“How are you? I’ve missed you.”

“I’m fine, I’ve missed you too. How are you?”

“I’m good. It’s good to see you. Even when you are acting like the hulk...”

“He deserves it... what is he even doing here?”

“He paid for the venue, as usual. But I had my little input...”

“The flower arrangements?”

“How did you guess?”

“Well when you bought me flowers, they were beautiful.”

“I should become a florist? A beautiful bouquet for a beautiful girl. You deserve it. Love ya Ri.”

“Charmer... love ya too.”

****

Leo had left her alone, walking towards the bar, she ordered a drink- staring vacantly into it, she wasn’t sure why she was even here still. Drowning her sorrows, she felt like she was back at the Crowne plaza- the drinks were disappearing far too quickly.

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

“I’m sorry about what Liam did, as well as my family...”

“Don’t be. Congratulations on becoming a uncle.” Ordering him a drink, their hands touched as they both went to pay the bar man- the warmth of the touch lingered around their bodies. Quickly creating a distance again, Drake was desperate to pull her into his arms- but decided against it, especially with the mood she was in.

“Thanks. He’s amazing. I can’t wait to teach him a few things. I saw you holding him before, you’re a natural.” That could have been us, you holding our baby.

“I’ve already been told.” That could have been us. You talking about teaching our son or daughter about things.

“Don’t be drinking me under the table again, you know how one drink turns into two then into three before you know it. You don’t want a stinking hangover.”

“You know I can handle my hangovers. You don’t need to worry about my head.”

“I worry about you. I care about you. I love you.” Opening her mouth, she wanted to talk to Drake- civilly, but didn’t know where to start.

“Come on you two, B and Savannah are about to make an announcement...” Maxwell dragged the two of them towards the mini stage. Riley could feel Drakes eyes on her more than the star of the show, his own nephew.

“Riley, before the speech begins I want a private word with you. Savannah will talk and talk - so quick, follow me.” Following Bertrand, He led her to the bathroom- shutting the door, she was confused by his actions- until realisation sunk in as he pulled the object out of his pocket.

“Here, I think you should take this.”

“I’m not pregnant B. It was the seafood.”

“You looked like shit last night. Please.” Taking the test, she knew it would shut him up. Not knowing why he was insisting that she took a test. Peeing on the stick, she hid it in her bag wrapped around some tissue. Re-entering the room, Savannah gestured for Bertrand to join her on stage.

“Sorry for arriving late, I apologise if I repeat anything that has already been said. I’d like to thank you all for coming here today, our friends and family- we appreciate all the support....” the alarm went off on Riley’s phone, panicking that she was disturbing the speech- her hand was shaking as she tried to cancel it. Bertrand looked at her, knowing what the alarm was. Riley swiftly removed herself from the crowd, turning her back- she looked at the result. Covering her mouth, she wished that she had kept her legs closed- turning around she couldn’t look at the father instead she just nodded towards Bertrand hoping that he would understand the gesture. Clearing his throat, he quickly finished off his disastrous speech, knowing that she needed his support especially due to him forcing it upon her.

“Anyway, thank you for all the gifts. Thank you. Thanks...” Running off stage he followed Riley who was lingering at the door- still in shock. Still not knowing how to handle the situation.

“Was I correct?”

“I need to go. I didn’t get Bartie a present I wasn’t sure what he needed. Here, just take this money and get whatever you need. Thank you for inviting me.”

Bertrand, I need your assistance. Savannah shouted attempting to gain his attention- realising that he wasn’t aware that everyone was overhearing his conversation with Riley through the microphone.

I’ll only be a second Savannah, darling.

“Riley!”

“What?”

“Tell me... I am always here for you... you are like my little sister.” Passing him the test, she didn’t care if he was touching something that had her urine smeared all over it.

“I’m pregnant. Happy?” Savannah’s eyes widened, as everyone else’s did as they all turned to face the people who were oblivious that their conversation wasn’t private and was in fact public.

“Darling... you left the microphone on. We heard everything...”

“Bertrand! You fucking dipshit....” still in shock with the result - possibly denial, she just wanted leave. This whole event had been a disaster from her point of view. As the father walked over to her, along with the others- she looked at each of the men. Fuck. This is not happening. He will want to keep the baby. Can I trust him?

“Is the baby mine? Is Alice having a sibling?”

[slytherinliththorne]

Rowan as in the tree

“Dios los hace y ellos se juntan”* part 1 of  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ .

*God makes them and they get together, proverb in Spanish.

A/N: This is my first attempt at hphm fanfic and oh boy has it been a while since I wrote fanfic. This is a mini series of Lith’s main group of friends, the Werewolf Support Squad, how they met and some moments together before the whole Circle of Khanna thing. Also, wand lore is from Pottermore.

Shout out to @tsikuri and @whyareallgoodnamestakendammit for giving feedback <33

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

Diagon Alley was surely a strange place. The wizards and witches hurrying in and out of the shops, their robes and hats displaying a wide variety of colors, the smells coming out of the stores, some pleasant and some not so much. It somehow reminded her of the markets she used to visit back home, yet Lith felt overwhelmed.

Curiously, the most comforting place had been the store she had just left. The way the wands were stocked in an organized mess, the overall welcoming feeling that she got. Many had surely stood in that room and she was just another one. Inside, she was relieved to feel like someone completely ordinary. One of thousands of wizards who, like her, came to buy their first wand.

Yet that coziness faded as she tried wand after wand. Redwood, pear, laurel, hazel. She barely remembered the woods she had tried, much less the cores or the size. She had grown impatient, but did her best to keep a small smile on her face.

“Willow wood and unicorn hair core.” The shop keeper, Ollivander, had introduced the fifth wand to her, overly eager, as if completely sure he had found a match.

“Many confident wizards insist of trying this type of wand, but I have found that my willows prefer those of greatest potential, rather than those who feel they have little to learn,” the man had said with a smile, “It has always been a proverb in my family that he who has furthest to travel will go fastest with willow.”

Lith recalled those words as she closed the door, getting back into the cold air. The weight of the wand felt especially heavy. She knew it shouldn’t have bothered her so much, but for some reason it did. ‘Great potential?’, way to place more expectations on her. 

Lith had been overthinking about expectations the whole time after getting her letter. She was Jacob Thorne’s sister after all, the sister of the boy who had endangered the whole school and was therefore expelled, the boy who ran away to supposedly join Lord Voldemort, whoever that was. The whole British Wizard community probably knew who she was and had a very little opinion of her.

She might have spiralled further into her thoughts if an excited voice hadn’t interrupted. 

“Oh my! that’s a willow, isn’t it?”

Lith looked up to the source of the question and found a very unexpected person. By the robes they were wearing and the list of items in their hands, she guessed she had stumbled upon another Hogwarts student.

They didn’t wait for Lith to answer before speaking again. “I came about an hour ago to buy mine too. I was so nervous, but I was paired with beech wood, unicorn hair core, 9 inches, reasonably springy.” The stranger laid their eyes on Lith’s own wand and beamed. “Did you know that willow has some sort of healing power? It also has a reputation of enabling non-verbal magic!”

“Oh, really? Wow” Lith tried not to sound impolite. “How...how did you know?”

“I grew up on a wand-tree farm, so I'm familiar with wand woods. I also love reading about wand lore. My name is Rowan Khanna, first year and future youngest professor of Hogwarts, nice to meet you!” Rowan extended their free hand towards Lith.

“Rowan? As in the tree?”

“Exactly.” Their smile was so warm that Lith couldn’t help but smile too.

“I’m Lith,” She shook their hand and added, a bit hesitant, “Lith Thorne.”

Now it was Rowan’s turn to look surprised. “Thorne? Like the boy that was expelled last year?”

“...yeah, that Thorne”

Lith knew she most likely would get recognised when she first arrived in the country, but it still made her uncomfortable. Apparently, her discomfort had been obvious.

“Oh! Sorry! I didn’t mean to be intrusive. I guess it still is a touchy subject…”

“It is.”

An awkward silence followed Lith’s dry reply. She didn’t mean to sound that way, but she was used to getting defensive when it came to her family, especially Jacob.

“Well...have you already got everything from the list? I could help you find what you are missing.” Lith’s eyes widened for a second. Was Rowan still trying to be friendly? 

“My dad is actually shopping for me, he has been to Diagon Alley before. He dropped me at Ollivanders and told me to have fun while he got the rest.” 

“Maybe he wanted to revive the old days.”

The mood brightened.

“That must be it.”

“My parents wanted to accompany me the whole trip but I convinced them that I should shop by myself, since I’m all grown up now.” Rowan giggled. “You had never visited Diagon Alley?”

“No, most of my contact with the Wizarding World was in Mexico and it wasn’t like this, at all.” Maybe it was because the mention of her brother had been quickly dismissed, but Lith felt safer talking to Rowan than before. “Do you know where the Leaky Cauldron is? I was supposed to meet up with my Dad there after I got my wand…”

“I know where it is! Maybe I can come with you so you don’t get lost?” Lith thought this was highly unlikely, since even in new places she had a pretty good sense of orientation, but she agreed anyway.

They walked together to the Leaky Cauldron, and when they found that Lith’s father still hadn’t arrived, they took a seat and continued talking. She learned that Rowan had never had any friends, which could explain their weird behavior, as if she didn’t quite know how to act around someone their age. Lith saw herself in Rowan. Her only friend had been Jacob, and he had disappeared. 

Normally, she would be too nervous to strike a conversation with anyone, but when she had a feeling that the other person was just as incapable as her, she became able. It was a strange thing that Lith had noticed in herself. 

They looked at the menu briefly before ordering. Lith was amazed at all those new beverages that she had never tasted, but ended up ordering a Tongue Tying Lemon Squash, just to be safe. Rowan had a butterbeer and was surprised when Lith didn’t choose one for herself.

“But it says beer in it. It literally says beer.” 

“It has a bit of alcohol but that’s okay, nothing happens if you have just one or two.” Rowan must have found Lith’s reaction amusing, since they were laughing at her drink.

“Yeah well I prefer my drinks with zero alcohol.” 

She allowed herself to relax a little. They drank and chatted until Lith’s father arrived barely carrying all of her supplies. He had gotten the books, the robes and all the other stuff she could have never remembered from the list.

Rowan and Lith said their goodbyes and promised to meet at the train the next week.

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

Lith basically clinged to Rowan’s arm as they made their way through the crowd. She had initially opposed the idea, but now she realized how convenient it had been.

As promised, Rowan had been there at Platform 93/4. Their parents waited besides them and both looked at Lith’s way when their child started to shout for her. She felt very small in front of the family, and maybe a little ashamed. They were, after all, a complete family.

“You must be Lith, Rowan hasn’t stopped talking about you since they got back.”

“Mom! She didn’t need to know that!” Lith could see Rowan pretended to be mad at her mother.

“Pleased to meet you Mrs. Khanna.” She had tried to sound as polite as possible. Lith’s own parents watched the conversation behind their daughter’s back.

“The pleasure is all ours, right dear?” Her husband had nodded lovingly. “And you are Lith’s parents, aren’t you?”

“That’s right! Daniel Thorne, nice to meet you!” Her father had always been a bright person, with no problems when it came to meeting other people. Her mother, on the other hand, was colder towards strangers, behavior that increased after Jacob’s disappearance. “This is my wife, Perla, we are very thankful at Rowan for keeping Lith company last week.”

“No problem at all, Mr. Thorne.” Rowan had answered as bright as Lith’s father.

“That’s great, but you are going to miss the train if you don’t get going.” Rowan’s father had interrupted.

“Dad, the train is right there, we won't miss it.”

“You can never be too sure.”

Both sets of parents had helped their children get ready to board the train and waved goodbye as they hopped in.

So there she was. Holding Rowan’s arm for dear life as they tried to find an empty seat. The train seemed full with students, all from various years, but Lith could recognise other first years by the hint of excitement in their eyes. Or fear.

“Maybe we should have boarded sooner.” Rowan commented, passing another occupied cart.

“You don’t say?”

It took them some time to find their desired seats. But just when they were about to give up, they passed a completely empty cart. They looked at each other in relief and quickly got it, placing their luggage on the shelfs and laying down.

Rowan peered through the window,scanning for something. “Look! Our parents!”

“Where?”

“Right there! By the column!”

Lith moved over to the window, next to Rowan and quickly spotted two familiar faces who recognised her too. Both first years waved and waved at their parents until they were no longer in sight. They relaxed back into their seats.

Lith finally took time to examine the inside of the train. Back in Mexico, she had only used the metro and she wasn’t sure if these types of trains existed anymore. All of it was curious and new, and it made her nervous.

“So what now?”

“Hm?”

“Do we just...wait till we arrive? How many hours is it going to take anyway?”

Rowan smiled. “Eight hours, and yeah we basically just wait.”

Eight hours? Yikes. Rowan must have noticed her distress and added.

“We can get sweets if you want, the trolley lady always passes with sweets for everyone to buy.” Rowan’s suggestion sounded tempting. “I also brought a few books to read during the trip, I could lend you one.”

“I think I do want those sweets, I have been craving chocolate since I woke up.”

Perhaps spending the day getting a sugar overdose wasn’t what Lith had planned at all when she got her letter, but it sounded like a good plan. Especially with a potential friend beside her.

[vantaestummy]

Beers, and Bleachers, and Kisses

SYNOPSIS: Music major Min Yoongi has always had the hugest crush on popular jock Kim Taehyung, but when out of no where, Taehyung asks him out on a date to the homecoming game, Yoongi goes a little above and beyond to, you know, impress him. Cue drunken antics like kissing and lots of barfing.

A/N: inspired by a true story that a friend told me. the gif has nothing to do with the story, just loved all of yoongi’s looks in the comeback teaser and have watched it like a thousand times now.

TW/// emeto and drinking way too much alcohol

THE STORY

Yoongi has had his eyes set on Taehyung for quite some time now.

Taehyung, the star child, infamous athlete, the boy carrying the school’s legacy on his back. Yoongi can’t help but to be enamored by the boy because out of all the assholes at this school that are prideful with their heads in their own ass, he’s the only one that actually has the right to be an asshole.

Don’t get Yoongi wrong, no one should be an asshole, but at least Taehyung has the looks and the talent to back it up. But Taehyung is actually the complete and total opposite. Yes, he hangs with some of the jocks like Park Seojoon, Park Hyungsik, Jeon Jeongguk, Kim Seokjin, and Park Jimin, but Taehyung has this air about him that emanates hope and love.

Here’s the other thing:

He’s really fucking smart. Truly. He’s the only dweeb of the athlete crowd that constantly gets straight A’s. And that’s not all.

One day, Yoongi was off to class, books and assignments in hand when one day, he gets the wind knocked out of him, his papers flying in a whirlwind, his glasses now askew.

“Watch where the fuck you’re going dude.” A gruff voice says, and suddenly, Yoongi feels so small, like his entire world has shattered and he feels nauseous with embarrassment. He doesn’t want to look at who pushed him because he knows he’ll be stricken with fear and he really doesn’t need to come to terms with the audience that has surrounded him and his perpetrator.

“Hey, back off, he didn’t do anything wrong.” That deep, velvet clad voice says. Yoongi’s heartbeat quickens, the feeling pulsating throughout his entire body.

Kim Taehyung stands there, hair flowing in the non existent wind like the hero in a k drama, having come to his aid in the midst of a dire situation. Yoongi couldn’t help it then, the way his heart overflowed with the utmost love and respect.

Yoongi had it bad.

And so you could imagine how Yoongi felt when Taehyung had asked him out to the homecoming game. The athlete had the audacity to look all nervous and shy, his head ducked and his cheeks glazed with pink. It was far too much for Yoongi to handle and let him tell it, he still thinks it’s a prank.

But Yoongi was over the moon, and he did NOT take almost three hours to pick out his outfit... promise. With his sandy blonde curls, cherry glazed lips and eyelids smeared delicately with a bit of gold, Yoongi was so ready to blow Taehyung away.

Taehyung was waiting for him at the entryway to the stadium, like he had promised, tickets in hand and a boxy smile on his face. When he notices that Yoongi is approaching, his face drops, his eyes widen. His jaw goes slack and it looks like the entire universe has made a home in his eyes. Yoongi can’t help but to blush.

“Woah... hyung you look... woah.”

Yoongi giggles, not used to such attention and definitely not used to it coming from someone so fucking beautiful and kind. That was the most important part for Yoongi. That Taehyung was kind.

“Uhh... you should close your mouth before... you know, flies?” Yoongi tries to play it cool but, he clearly can’t even do that right when his use of lingo just fades away into the night. But Taehyung must find it cute, (Yoongi hopes he does) as he just throws his head back with a laugh and hands Yoongi over his ticket.

“Here, the others are waiting for us.”

Yoongi raises a brow. Others? He had hoped that it was just the two of them but, Yoongi can’t be picky. Never in a million years did he think someone like Taehyung would be into someone like him. So he’ll take this one in stride.

They walk side by side up the steps and into the bleachers, finding spots next to all of Taehyung’s jock friends. This game was for the junior varsity team and Taehyung and his friends belonged to the major team? The other division? Yoongi didn’t really give a shit. He just knows that this was the team lower in rank and that it was a home game. Either way, he was with Taehyung, and that’s kind of all that matters.

Beside them are Jimin and Jungkook who, can’t seem to get their hands off of one another. Next to them, are Seokjin, Namjoon and Hoseok, people that Yoongi has seen around before but, has never really interacted with until now.

“Guys, this is Yoongi hyung, Yoongi hyung, meet Jimin, Jungkook, Joon-hyung, Hoseok-hyung, and Jin-hyung. Jimin, Jungkook and Hyung are on the same team with me. Namjoon-hyung and Hoseok-hyung are just our friends.”

“Wow, thanks for making it sound like we don’t do shit.” Namjoon teases. Yoongi smiles, offering them a kind nod and sighing with content in his seat. It isn’t long before Taehyung ducks his hands into his bag, pulling out two cans of beer and handing one to Yoongi stealthily.

“Want one? No one really says anything unless you make it a big deal. Plus, you’re older than me right? So you must be over twenty one.”

Yoongi’s nose crinkles as he finds this endearing, that Taehyung has thought about this so carefully. Granted, Yoongi doesn’t really drink but, if he says no, he risks looking lame as fuck and that is the last thing he wants to do right now. Especially when things are going so well.

“Sure, hand me another one while you’re at it. Beer doesn’t do shit for me.” Yoongi lies, easy. Taehyung’s brows raise, his smile widening, clearly impressed. He hands Yoongi the two cans like he asked and the older boy throws them back as if it’s no sweat off his back. Taehyung can’t help but to give him the side eye, his lips quirked are the corners as he bites his lip, very intrigued by how badass Yoongi is.

But unbeknownst to him, Yoongi had made the biggest mistake.

Halfway into the game, Yoongi had already had four beers, and not only was his vision hazy, but he could barely hear anything, all of the sounds of the world blurring together and invading his eardrums with a fuzzy sound. Along with the dissipation of his senses, comes a newfound courage that he did not ask for.

“Y’know Taehyung? I was real’ surprised when you asked me out, y’know? Because you’re just so fuckin’ gorgeous and I’m... not...” Yoongi giggles sadly, truly meaning what he says even though he’s drunk out of his mind.

But Taehyung seems to take offense to his words, quickly snatching up the other boy’s hand and holding it tight.

“I have no idea what the hell youre talking about hyung. You are so... beautiful, and believe it or not... but I’ve been wanting to ask you out for some time now?”

There it is again, Taehyung’s nerves as clear as day. Yoongi, so drunk that the world is spinning around him, can’t help but to find it so adorable that he just giggles, and giggles, and giggles. His fingers curl by his mouth in the most adorable fashion and his eyes crinkle as he laughs. Taehyung’s gaze softens, and with the new look, comes his tan cheeks turning a sweet shade of pink.

“You’re too... you’re too nice Tae...” Yoongi murmurs, clearly stricken by the others words as his heart swells in his chest. He leans in, intertwining both of their hands now and allowing their noses to brush. “You should kiss me now... I’ve been wanting you to kiss me for a long time.”

Taehyung gasps at Yoongi’s bluntness but, nonetheless, has been waiting for this moment just as well. Taehyung leans inward, tilting his head so that their lips can slot perfectly together. Yoongi takes no time to hesitate as his lips move with the kiss, deepening it and allowing Taehyung’s tongue to mingle with his own. It’s hard not to laugh into the kiss because it’s so much more perfect than he could have ever imagined. And yes, Taehyung tastes like cheap beer and pocket mints, but he also tastes sweet and full of bright, hopeful dreams. The others pay them no mind as the two make out shamelessly in the bleachers of a college football game (talk about cliches) and Yoongi wouldn’t have it any other way.

The game is over when everyone in the bleachers retires for the night. Taehyung’s friends send him playful winks and teasing kissy faces as they depart, and Yoongi can’t help but to blush as he’s left alone with the jock he’s dreamed about.

But that’s not the only reason why his cheeks are flushed.

Yoongi feels sick, like, really sick. The world is still spinning but it isn’t as fun anymore, and an overwhelming sensation of nausea floods his entire body, making him hot all over as his lids droop and his mouth fills with saliva.

Taehyung kisses his cheek, still not aware of what’s happening.

“Do you want to... come to my dorm for a bit? We can watch movies or something? I also have food in the fridge that I can cook for us to last us the night. All the dining halls are closed so—”

“Taehyung?”

The jock in question closes his mouth, his brows furrowing as he intakes Yoongi’s pale and shaky state. “Hyung? Baby, are you okay?”

Yoongi can’t even swoon over the pet name as his stomach gurgles in protest.

“I-I... I think m’ gonna be sick...” Yoongi mumbles as his cheeks puff out against a sickly burp. He presses his fist to his mouth, his eyes squeezing shut as he tries so desperately not to puke in front of his crush??? Boyfriend??? It’s too early to tell but, if Yoongi vomits, this might be the end of it all.

“Ahhh.... shit.” Taehyung jumps to his feet, scanning the bleachers for something that Yoongi can be sick in. Thankfully, he swipes up a plastic bag that had been discarded holding who knows what.

He opens the bag beneath Yoongi’s chin, saliva already dangling from his lip as the crinkling of plastic resonates through the cold fall air. The wind does nothing to soothe Yoongi’s burning hot skin.

“Tae... m’ stomach...” Yoongi groans, the nausea followed by a dull ache that only makes him sicker. Taehyung pouts with sympathy.

“Just... get it up baby... you’ll feel better soon.”

Yoongi doesn’t hear the last of Taehyung’s words as his shoulders roll with a guttural burp, a thick wave of vomit clattering into the bag and nearly filling it up halfway. Yoongi heaves, more chunky puke nearly the same color as the beer he drank creating a small pool into the bag and weighing it down. Taehyung barely manages to keep it together.

He grabs at Yoongi’s other hand for help in holding the back, and with one hand now free, he brushes back Yoongi’s soft, light brown fringe, hissing through his teeth as Yoongi’s stomach clenches visibly beneath his jacket. More puke spurts from Yoongi’s lips, the bag overflowing with his vomit and soaking Taehyung’s fingers. The jock bites back a grimace as his eyes scan the bleachers in a panic for another makeshift puke bucket. He ends up finding nothing and resorts to dumping the bag to the grass below, opting for a wet but empty piece of plastic.

“Let it out baby, everything’s gonna be okay.”

Meanwhile, Yoongi is living through his worst nightmare.

Not only is his stomach a hot mess, but he’s not so drunk that he doesn’t realize what’s happening. After this, Taehyung will no longer want to speak to him again, let alone see him in class.

How disgusting can he be?

“T-Tae... I’m... I’m-blech.”

Yoongi gurgles out a few mouthfuls of vomit, his stomach convulsing as he continues to puke up nothing but bile and saliva. Taehyung rubs calm, soothing circles in his back as his spine curves from the force of his puking, his eyes wet and overflowing with unshed tears.

“Don’t speak hyung, just get it all out first.”

Yoongi whines, a few tears falling as he coughs wetly into the bag that isn’t nearly as full as it was before. Yoongi gags helplessly as nothing more comes up, but his head continues to hang low, unable to face Taehyung at the moment.

But once Taehyung realizes that Yoongi must be done he ties up the bag and wipes his sticky hands on his jeans, reaching into his bag for a few towelletes that his mother had given him before he left off to school. The package hasn’t even been opened, as Taehyung never thought he would have to use them, until now.

“Here hyung, you can wipe your mouth with... hyung, baby why are you crying?”

Yoongi sniffles, more tears escaping him as he descends further and further into the realms of never ending embarrassment. Yoongi is so ashamed that he doesn’t even think he can speak right now, let alone think of something useful to say.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry... I’m so gross and I just wanted to impress you and make you think that I drink all the time when really I’ve only had wine and never enough to actually make myself drunk and I was so surprised when you asked me out that I thought it might be a joke and now I’m really hoping it was because I know you probably hate me now and I’m just... I’m so sorry Taehyung...”

Taehyung’s jaw has dropped, his face etched with incredible disbelief.

“A... a joke? Hyung, I wasn’t joking when I asked you out. I did it because I actually like you and... I’m sad that you thought you had to go as far as to get really drunk to impress me but... I think I’m flattered?” Taehyung says cautiously with a small smile. It’s sweet, and endearing, and even though Yoongi’s stomach still hurts, it kind of makes him giggle too.

“I get it if you don’t want to see me again... I mean, who would? I got puke on your shoes.”

Taehyung looks down at his sneakers to see, yeah, a tiny splash of vomit on the tip of his converse. But he honestly doesn’t really give a shit. To him, he’s spending time with the coolest, cutest, most talented kid in school. There’s no other place he’d rather be.

“You know hyung, I was there, at the recital. You were so amazing. Every time I saw you around campus I got so intimidated, it also doesn’t help that you’re so cute. I’m really happy that you said yes.” Taehyung says earnestly as he uses his sleeve to wipe away at Yoongi’s tears, since his hands are still kind of gross.

Yoongi sniffles, looking up with wide eyes, shocked, his cheeks reddening as Taehyung takes care of him so effortlessly.

“You... you saw me?”

Taehyung nods with the brightest, boxy smile on his face. “Yeah! I love the music showcases because everyone in them is so good but you? You took my breath away. I never thought I would get the courage to ask you but... my friends kinda bribed me to do it. I wanted you to hear it from me instead of them being assholes and telling you how much I was crushing on you.”

Yoongi chuckles, breathless. His cheeks are flushed and his skin has somewhat returned to its usual color, even if he is still super dizzy.

Taehyung had known who he was? Before they even met?

Yoongi experiences a chill then, his hands wrap around his torso as he shivers. Taehyung quickly discards of his jacket before pulling it around Yoongi, his cheeks still a faint pink.

“Let me walk you to my dorm. It’s cold and dark out, and I also have some really good remedies for bad hangovers.” Taehyung offers softly, his voice tinged with hope that Yoongi will say yes. He does in fact, say yes, and when Yoongi feels even better, he borrows one of Taehyung’s jerseys and they cuddle on the couch, warm and so much happier than before. And if Taehyung’s teammates clown him once they see Yoongi leaving his room at the crack of dawn the next day, he doesn’t say anything about it. Frankly, he doesn’t care. He’s kind of in love, and nothing can change that.

Even if their first official date was filled with puke.

But thankfully, they go on many more dates to make up for that one, and when Taehyung asks Yoongi to be his boyfriend, Yoongi of course says yes. And when people ask how they met, Yoongi groans, and Taehyung just laughs, because they both know that whoever asked, is in for a long story.

A/N: sorry for disappearing. i can’t promise that i’m back officially, but i hope this makes up for some of that time!

[kpophours]

A Walk Home (M)

➵ SF9: Rowoon x fem. reader / one shot, college AU / fluff, smut

➵ warnings: explicit mentions of sex (oral: giving, fingering), mentions of alcohol, slight cursing

➵ word count: 5.3k

A heartfelt laugh and shining eyes.

That’s what he notices the first time Rowoon sees you.

Tousled hair being impatiently pushed back over one shoulder and out of an open, attractive face.

Fluttering hands gesturing widely, more laughs until you throw your head back, giggling uncontrollably.

You're vibrant and energetic.

Warm and open.

You feel like a breath of fresh air on the stuffy afternoon Rowoon meets you for the first time.

Rowoon’s tall frame is the first thing you see out of the corner of your eye.

Tall and dangly, arms and legs that seem too long to fit anywhere properly.

A jawline sharper than any blade, dark smoldering eyes – and a smile so inviting and open that you can’t help but immediately feel at ease around him. 

He uses one hand to push his black hair away from the forehead, a hint of impatience to that gesture. When he sees you looking, he grins - he knows he’s handsome, but doesn’t seem to care about it.

“There they are!”, Jaeyoon says when he spots his two friends just entering the café, “Late as always.”

“Punctuality is a virtue.”, you sigh, taking a careful sip of your steaming coffee.

“One we do not own, I’m afraid.”, Rowoon says, having overheard the last bits of conversation and grinning apologetically at you and Jaeyoon.

“Yeah, I’m sure we make an amazing first impression.”, Youngbin sighs, slipping onto the bench beside you, the chair opposite you now the only available space left for Rowoon. 

You just grin. “Don’t worry, I have a lot of friends who hold other virtues, too.”

"Well without further ado, let me finally introduce these two – Rowoon and Youngbin, two of my closest friends and roommates. Guys, this is Y/N.” 

Both men smile at the you and you respond in kind.

“Nice to finally meet you.”, Youngbin says, while Rowoon nods in agreement.

“Likewise – Jaeyoon has told me a lot about you. So.... You will help us with our genius idea?”, you ask, propping your chin onto one hand and regarding both, curiosity sparkling in your eyes.

“Well, we will try.”, Youngbin quickly dampens your excitement, “We’re no geniuses on the programming side.”

“Speak for yourself.”, Rowoon jumps in, raising one eyebrow in a silent challenge.

“Are you telling me you’ve become a programming genius over night now?”, the older man with the bright red hair asks, grinning a bit condescending.

“Who knows - I have many hidden talents.”

“Dancing the Macarena while balancing a glass of beer on top of your head does not count as a hidden talent, just so you know.”, Jaeyoon intercepts, making you laugh.

“Oh, I’ve definitely got to see that!”, you say brightly, dimples showing.

“Well, we’re having a party at our place this weekend, come over and you might get to see it.”, Youngbin proposes.

“Sounds good. Is it alright if I bring my best friend along with me?”

“No need - I live there too, so I’m already invited.”, Jaeyoon says confidently, making you roll your eyes.

“You are not my best friend, Yoon.”

He fake gasps. “I’m not?! But what about us, what about everything we’ve been throu-”

“I swear to god, you need to stop watching High School Musical.”, you whine, punching him lightly on the arm and making him pout.

“But they are cinematic masterpieces!”

“They are not. Seriously, you are so weird!”

“That’s why you love me."

"I most certainly do not.”

“I know you do and I love you, too. So, back to business then.” And with that, he looks at his two friends, who observe your bantering with amused faces.

The jokes continue through the whole afternoon, which marks the beginning of a new, blossoming friendship.

The four of you manage to plan quite a few things for the app you and Jaeyoon envision for your university project. If everything works out (which it will) you will get a high, if not the highest grade for this.

You come with your roommate/best friend to the party.

There, you show off your skills at beer-pong, destroying the youngest of the bunch of men living together named Hwiyoung and Chani with the help of Zuho, another of Jayeoon’s roommates; you can’t help but laugh at their shocked faces.

After that, Dawon calls for a round of shots, making you even more drunk which finally results in you showing off your (non-existent) dancing skills. Taeyang and Youngbin rescue you from the dance floor before you can hurt yourself (or someone else) with your flailing arms and legs. Rowoon and Jaeyoon have tears in their eyes from laughing too much at you, but you don't even mind. You obviously already know about your poor dancing skills, but are way too drunk to care.

When the night is old – or the morning young? – you sit outside with Inseong, having dreamy talks about politics and a better society. By then, you have finally begun to drink water; thanks to that, the alcohol is beginning to wear off. Your best friend is already back home, having drunken a little too much too fast and therefore decided to sleep it off.

After the party, you quickly become a regular at the young men’s house: many game as well as movie nights are spent cuddled together on mattresses and under blankets with popcorn and wine, even more are spent with Rowoon in the kitchen trying to improve your cooking skills or with Inseong on the porch discussing politics; sometimes you just sit in their living room, quietly reading one of your novels beside Youngbin - and once in a blue moon you even try to play some computer games with Hwiyoung and Chani (you're really bad at those, making them laugh at you).

It takes a few weeks before the men begin to notice that they don’t seem to remember a time before you. Especially Rowoon, who - along with Jaeyoon and Inseong - is closest to you, doesn’t want to imagine his life without you anymore. He doesn’t know it yet (or maybe he doesn’t want to acknowledge it) but he’s falling for you, ever day (and night) a bit more.

It’s movie night again and you're currently in the kitchen, helping Rowoon to prepare different dips for the ridiculous amount of chips already waiting with the others in the living room.

“Something’s still missing.”, Rowoon complains, tasting the guacamole he’s trying to make again.

You chuckle. “That’s just because you’re a perfectionist. The others won’t notice anything missing, I promise you that. Their taste is not… refined enough for that.”

He grumbles something unintelligible, scooping some guacamole onto his finger to taste it yet again, but before he can put it in his own mouth, you beat him to it, quickly licking his finger clean.

His heart stops and you giggle at his shocked expression. “Some more garlic, that’s what’s missing.”

With that, you playfully wink at him, take some of the already finished dips and leave the kitchen – Rowoon still standing shell-shocked in the same position, not having moved a single muscle.

When you’re gone, he takes a deep, shaky breath.

This is not good.

He should not feel his heart beating this fast – shouldn’t feel the lust spreading through his whole body, making him ache for more, leaving him hot and needy.

”Hyung, are you coming or not?”, Hwiyoung yells, breaking the spell a bit. Rowoon quickly drowns a cold glass of water, before taking the now finished guacamole and entering the living room, where everyone else is already assembled.

“There you are. We’ve already decided on a movie without you, by the way.”, Chani says, already munching on some chips. Rowoon ruffles his hair, making the younger man flinch and complain: “Hyung, don’t!”

He just grins, plopping down beside you onto one of the mattresses laid out on the floor – it’s the only available space left, a fact that makes him frown. Jaeyoon sports a shit-eating grin and Zuho shoots him a wink, so he knows they did this on purpose.

So… they know.

Just to prove them wrong, Rowoon scoots as far away from you as possible without falling off the mattress.

You don't even seem to notice, too involved into a banter over who gets the last blanket with Dawon. After everyone’s finally settled (you having gotten the blanket from Dawon, who’s now fake-sulking beside you with his arms crossed), Youngbin shuts off the lights and hits play on the first movie.

All you can hear besides the munching of chips and popcorn is the opening music of “The Nun”.

“Why are we watching a horror movie again?”, Zuho finally mutters, blanket already pulled up to his nose with only his eyes left visible.

Hwiyoung snorts. “Because we voted for it, hyung. You know, democratically.”

“Starting tonight, I’m completely against democracy. Can I quickly install a regime of monarchy with me as King? And change the movie?”

“Nope.”

A deep sigh follows the denial of his request, but after that, Zuho is silent. You gently pat his leg (the only limb you're able reach as he’s sitting directly above you on one of the sofas). “Just close your eyes when it’s getting too silent during the movie. That’s where they always place some jump scares.”

“Wow, thanks. What great advice!”

You just grin and shrug. “Always happy to help.”

After that, no one talks, everyone silently enjoying the movie (or not completely silent in case of Zuho and Dawon, who seem to scream during every jump scare); all are happily munching on the snacks.

During the second movie (this one another genre thanks to Zuho threatening to leave the movie night early otherwise), the first ones begin to fall asleep; first Youngbin, then Jaeyoon and finally Inseong and Zuho. Chani and Hwiyoung complain about the older ones, making fun of their inner grandpas, but Rowoon shushes them with one look. Dawon is the first one to leave, having gotten a call from another friend inviting him to a spontaneous party only a few blocks away. Chani and Hwiyoung finally retreat to their shared room as well, preferring to play some video games over watching a third movie.

When the next movie begins, you and Rowoon are the only ones left - not counting the sleeping ones still sprawled on the mattresses and sofas.

A third of the movie has gone by when your eyes begin to droop, too. By then, Rowoon has long given up on keeping some space between you as you have offered him half the blanket to share. Your legs are pressed against each other, hands touching too often to still call it accidental.

When your head drops down onto Rowoon’s shoulder, he uses his chance and slides one arm around you. Your response is immediate: you sigh, cuddling even closer and burrowing both hands into his soft cotton shirt.

Your eyes are still closed, but Rowoon feels your fast beating heart thanks to your body being closely pressed to his.

You're not sleeping but are too shy to open your eyes, the closeness to Rowoon so thrilling and exciting – and so new. You don’t want to ruin this moment, afraid to shatter it with confessing you being actually awake. But when you feel Rowoon’s lips on your forehead, you can’t keep pretending anymore. You lift your head and look at him with curious eyes, noticing the soft, loving expression on his face. Time seems frozen with you gazing at each other, hearts beating fast, hands becoming clammy.

Then, Rowoon’s gaze drops to your lips.

Your breathing stops for a second, your heart beginning to hammer uncontrollably, making you dizzy. It’s been too long since you've felt like this, like a teenage girl being in love for the first time.

Weeks of stolen glances, not so accidental touches, casual nearly-dates (sometimes with, sometimes without the other men) and many stupid inside jokes have cumulated to this moment – Rowoon face slowly nearing yours.

Thoughts run through his head that this, THIS is the moment he’s been waiting and hoping for - for so, so long, for weeks – months really…

He sees you close your eyes, hands loosening the hold on his shirt and wandering upwards to curl into the hair at the base of his neck, but before he can close his eyes as well and finally kiss you – he hears someone yawning, blankets begin to rustle and limbs to move.

Both of you immediately jump away from one another, Rowoon quickly snatching his arm back from around your smaller frame and you taking both hands back into your lap, interlacing your trembling fingers.

Cheeks burning, breaths halting, both of you plaster your eyes to the screen in front of you, hearts hammering fast and unsteady.

“What year is it?”, Jaeyoon groans from above you, sitting up.

When Rowoon and you turn around to look at him, you can’t stop a giggle coming from you – he looks too adorable with his hair sticking out in every direction, remains of sleep and dreams still evident in his eyes. 

“It’s 2050, welcome to the future.”, you answer, making your friend groan again.

“Don’t make fun of me. I hate drifting off during movie nights.”

“Shouldn’t have stayed up all night playing Overwatch with the maknaes, then.”, Rowoon chides his roommate, one eyebrow raised.

“Thanks, mom.”, Jaeyoon grumbles, flinging a pillow towards the tall man. Rowoon quickly ducks, giggling at his friend’s antics.

“Just go to bed, Yoon.”, you simply say, but he shakes his head.

“And leave you two alone? Who knows what you’ll be doing! No, I can’t be that irresponsible.”, he counters, smile wicked when he observes you two, noticing your red cheeks and not so subtle looks towards each other. Jaeyoon knows you two are head over heels for each other, but he also knows neither has done anything about the more than obvious crush (obvious to him and the others at least). He loves teasing you, so he stays where he is - wouldn’t make it too easy for either of you.

You just sigh, turn around and gaze at the screen again. “I think I’ll head home after this movie.”, you finally murmur, eyelids getting heavy again.

“I’ll walk you home.”, Rowoon immediately offers. 

You smile sleepily at him. “Thanks.”

With that, silence falls over the room again, but this time it feels heavy – both Rowoon and you are way too aware of Jaeyoon watching you.

The kiss that hasn’t happened is hanging above you like the sword of Damocles.

Half an hour later, the movie ends and you immediately stand up – a bit too quickly apparently, as your head begins to spin. “Oof.”, you huff, trying to find something to hold onto and finding it in Rowoon’s arm.

“Careful.”, he murmurs in a teasing undertone, eyes sparkling with humor.

“Oh, shut up.”, you counter weakly, dampening your words with a soft smile. Jaeyoon stands up as well, stretching both arms above his head and yawns. Inseong, Zuho and Youngbin are still out like a light and you three are intending to keep it that way, tiptoeing out of the living room and into the dark hallway. You quickly grab your shoes and leather jacket and are almost out of the door, when two arms cage around you.

“Not so fast.”, Jaeyoon says playfully, hugging you tightly to himself, “You can’t just leave without saying goodbye to your best friend.”

You giggle. “You’re not my best friend, Yoon.”

You both know it’s a blatant lie by now, but it’s a game you both like to play.

“I know I am. Love you, sleep well, have sweet dreams and I’ll probably see you tomorrow.” With that, he releases you again, but this time you turn around and smile. “Same, same, same and yes.” You kiss his cheek and leave the house – Rowoon already waiting for you on the street, also clad in a leather jacket.

He looks way too good in a leather jacket, you conclude, burying both hands in your pockets so they don’t go wandering in search of others to hold.

Rowoon smiles sleepily at you, pushing his dark hair back from his forehead.

He looks way too good with his hair like this, you think again and groan inwardly. He looks way too good in every aspect, you're tired of lying to yourself – you're hopelessly in love with the tall, dorky man.

You walk in silence towards the apartment you're sharing with your (other) best friend, who's currently out of town visiting some relatives this weekend. You curse her for it; you could’ve really used her to talk about what happened but didn’t happen with Rowoon tonight. And you would rather eat a broomstick than talk to Jaeyoon about this – you can already imagine his smug expression. You know he knows about your crush. You have the feeling all the other men know about it – but Rowoon is too oblivious apparently.

Or maybe he does know about your crush as well, but doesn’t want to acknowledge it – because he doesn’t want to ruin your friendship.

Or because he’s just not into you.

Or because-

“What are you thinking about?”, Rowoon asks, voice laced with amusement, “It looks like hard work.” He points at the lines forming on your forehead thanks to the frown you're currently sporting.

You're silent, unusually so. Normally, your walks are filled with bantering or deep talks or - well, anything, really. You have a connection like this, where you always have something to talk about. Now though, you don't really seem to be here with him – and you’ve almost reached your apartment.

“Sorry, I’m just tired.”, Rowoon hears you murmur, smiling at him, but he sees right through it.

“Mhm.”, he just makes, continuing to look at you out of the corner of his eye.

Five minutes later, you’ve arrived at your doorstep. The sky is still pitch-black, only a few stars twinkle lazily down at you. It’s cold enough for your breaths to form tiny white clouds in front of you.

Rowoon looks at you, but you’re pointedly not looking at him. “Y/N.”, he says softly and you finally gaze up at him. Uncertainty fills your eyes, something uncommon for one of the most confident people he knows.

“Thanks for walking me home.”, you finally answer, the corner of your mouth curling upwards into the tiniest of smiles. As if he hasn’t walked you home hundreds of times by now - but you still continue to always thank him.

“Well, you can walk me home again now. And then I’ll walk you home again. And so on and so on - that way we can spend more time together.”, Rowoon suggests jokingly, making you smile in earnest this time. And that does it for him – that beautiful smile he came to love weeks (months, really) ago, with the dimples in your cheeks and the small creases around your sparkling eyes.

He steps forward, arms sliding around your smaller frame, head lowering towards yours and then – finally – his lips are on yours.

You have thought about this moment for days, weeks – months by now. And when Rowoon’s soft, plush lips are finally on yours, your heart just stops for a few seconds before beginning to hammer inside your chest.

It’s a sweet, soft, chaste kiss.

... At first.

Because the months of build-up it had taken for you both to finally admit to this, apparently have an impact: you slide both arms around Rowoon’s neck, pressing your body even closer to his, moaning softly against this lips. That does it for him, his teeth sink into your lower lip, gently biting down and when you gasp a bit, his tongue slips into your mouth. Desire shoots through your body, hot and needy and you can’t suppress the shudder and louder moan this time. Rowoon groans at this, pressing you even harder against him and grinding against you.

At this, you break away from him, breathing heavily. “I-”, he already wants to apologize, but you don’t even let him finish: “We should take this inside.”

He stutters and looks at you with comically big eyes, before beginning to grin wickedly. “After you, then.”

Your hands tremble slightly while you search for your keys – why did you choose a bag this large for today?! – and Rowoon pressing himself against your backside, hands roaming your sides while his breath tickles your exposed neck, isn't helping at all.

Finally, you manage to find the keys, slip them inside the keyhole and then, you’re inside the house.

You somehow make it into the elevator without getting rid of your clothes, but as soon as the apartment door falls shut behind you both, your mouths are on one another again, teeth and tongues clashing, months of pent-up desire making your moves hurried and sloppy. Your hands slip under Rowoon’s shirt (his and your leather jacket are already on the floor beside your shoes), trembling fingers dance over his abs, making him groan and grind against you again, erection already hard and pressing into your hip.

“Bedroom.”, you just say, dragging the taller man with you into your room. Out of habit, you close the door even though your best friend/roommate isn't even here. When you turn around and gaze with hooded, lust-filled eyes at Rowoon, you see the same expression mirrored on his face, eyes roaming your body, teeth digging into his lower lip.

Lust shoots through your entire body and you feel too hot and needy to take your time. You simply grab him again - just when he pulls you back into his arms.

"You're still wearing way too many clothes.", Rowoon murmurs against your lips, making you smile.

"I could say the same.", you answer cockily, hands slipping under his shirt again and dragging it upwards. He quickly pulls it over his head and flings it into the darkness of your room, not caring where it lands.

"Your turn."

You release a deep breath at this, taking the hem of your shirt and pulling it over your head. Rowoon groans when he sees your bra - black lace, nearly see-through.

"Fuck.", he mutters, hands already reaching for you to press your body against his again. He kisses you, slow and deep this time.

Your knees get weak and all you can do is hold onto Rowoon's biceps, so you don't slip to the floor.

"Still too many clothes.", the tall man finally says, when he ends the kiss, a small smirk forming on his lips.

You giggle. "Well, we should definitely change that, then." With that, you open your belt, then the button of your jeans, wriggling free and stepping out of them. Only left in your black panties and bra, you look at Rowoon, a silent challenge in your eyes. He follows it, quickly getting rid of his pants as well. His dark briefs are stretched thanks to his erection pressing almost painfully against them and when your gaze begins to wander towards them, you suck in a breath, teeth digging into your lower lip. Then, you reach for the fastening of your bra, opening it and letting the piece of clothing fall to the ground.

Rowoon swallows thickly, eyes getting even darker with desire when he sees your breasts, nipples already erect. Quickly, his lips are on yours again, arms curling around you.

You're trembling slightly, a fact that makes him hesitate. "You're okay?", he murmurs against your lips, a silent question in his eyes - do you really want this?

But you smile quickly, nodding forcefully. "More than okay, actually. You have no idea how long I've been waiting for this.", you confess quietly, kissing him once.

He groans. "Thank God, me too."

With that, he takes a few steps backwards towards the bed, pulling you with him and sitting on the edge of your mattress, your body between his legs. His hands wander over your stomach, making you tremble even more. Soft kisses follow the paths of his hands, before his mouths closes over one nipple, his fingers brushing over the other one.

You moan at this, hands coming to rest on Rowoon's broad shoulders, nails digging into his skin. Your breathing gets louder and choppy, the waves of desire making you feel dizzy. More wetness pools between your legs and when Rowoon's free hand brushes the edge of your panties, you curse softly.

His dark eyes gaze up at you, hidden humor sparkling in them at his own teasing. This does it for you, you push him on the bed, his mouth releasing your nipple in the process. You shivers at the sudden lack of contact, but quickly begin to straddle Rowoon, kissing him deeply and grinding against his erection. He moans at this, hands digging into your hips. "Don't tease.", he murmurs, voice dark and rough, making you grin at him. "Says the right one.", you just answer, but quickly lower herself, pulling his briefs down and freeing his erection.

Seeing his length for the first time makes you gulp - his body seems to be... very proportional. He smirks at your reaction, but it quickly dies down when you take his length into your mouth.

Incoherent words leave his mouth and he closes his eyes, hands fisting into your white bedding. You're apparently very good at what you’re doing, his heavy breathing and moans telling you he's more than enjoying this. Finally, he grabs your shoulders, heaving you towards himself and kissing you hungrily. He's panting when he breaks away from you, lips swollen and hair a mess. "I- you... Jesus Christ."

You laugh at this, a mistake apparently - one second he's under you and then he's flipped you over, his tall frame hovering over you.

He kisses your neck, slowly making his way down, only stopping at your breasts for a short amount of time before pulling down your panties.

He teases the edges of your heat, before sinking one long digit inside you, making you mewl at the sensation. When his thumb lands on your swollen clit, you begin to pant, one arm thrown over your eyes, your other hand fisting into the pillow beside you. Rowoon grins wickedly at the sight in front of him, enjoying teasing you a bit too much.

"P- please.", you finally whimper, looking at him with hooded eyes, teeth digging into your own lower lip.

"Condom?", he answers almost immediately, just as impatient as you.

You open the drawer of your nightstand and seconds later, he has already rolled the condom over his length, positioning himself in front of you.

"You're sure?", he murmurs, one eyebrow raised, making you roll your eyes at him. That does it for him - he grins, rolling his hips once and entering you swiftly.

You moan at the sudden sensation of him filling you, nails digging into his biceps until he's bottoming out. He stays still for some seconds, letting you adjust to his length buried deep inside of you.

"Okay?", he whispers gently against your lips and you nod forcefully, kissing him hungrily. He begins to set a slow pace at first, but you quickly demand him to move faster.

Pounding into you, one hand slipping between your flushed bodies to rub your clit, he makes both of you moan in pleasure.

It doesn't take long for you to begin to shake and clench around him, making it harder for him to hold back, his movements becoming sloppier with every second. You’re both breathing hard and when you finally cry out in complete pleasure, he releases the hold on him as well, groaning and moving a few last times, before coming to a halt. 

Face buried in your neck, Rowoon is panting, eyes closed and heart beating frantically.

You slide your arms around his broad frame, gently caressing his bare back and kissing his exposed shoulder.

"That was amazing.", you finally murmur, voice tired but pleased.

Rowoon grins at that, gently pulling out of you and rolling off the bed. "More than amazing.", he confirms, standing up and tossing the condom into the trash bin.

You wrap the blanket around your naked body, eyes heavy and hair spilling over the white pillows. He smiles at you, gaze soft.

"You're staying?", you ask in a small voice, one hand reaching for him.

"Yes.", he simply says, slipping back between the covers, gently pulling you against him.

You fall asleep like this - legs entangled, Rowoon's hand softly stroking your back, your nose pressed into his neck.

You sleep deeply and dreamlessly. 

The pale morning light filtering through the blinds and into your room wakes Rowoon the next day; you’re still soundly asleep beside him.

Your eyelids flutter from time to time and you mumble something incoherent, but otherwise it's completely silent inside the apartment - time seems frozen.

The dark-haired man continues to gaze at you, eyes soft, a small smile playing on his lips.

He can't believe that last night really happened, but his and your naked body as well as the still fresh memory in his mind are more than proof of it.

You shift slightly, pulling the blanket tighter around your body.

Your hair is fanning over the white pillows and you look so breathtakingly beautiful, so vulnerable, that Rowoon wants to take a picture to treasure this moment forever - he doesn't though.

Instead, he silently slips out of bed and pulls on his dark briefs and white shirt, before stepping into the hallway. He quickly makes his way towards the kitchen and drinks some water straight from the tab, before going to the bathroom. He looks at himself in the mirror, noticing the smile he simply can't seem to suppress. He hasn't been that happy in a long time.

When you wake up, you're alone in bed. Still half asleep, you reach over to touch the other side of the mattress, noticing the still lingering warmth.

So Rowoon can't be gone for long.

You groan slightly, reaching for the water bottle you always keep beside your bed and take a few deep gulps of cold water. After you've satisfied your thirst, you tousle your hair and stretch both arms above your head with a deep yawn. You're still naked and shiver in the cold room, quickly pulling the thick blanket around your body again. At that moment, your door opens and Rowoon steps through; hair mussed but eyes bright and awake.

He smiles breathtakingly at you and you answer it a bit shyly.

"Morning.", he says, voice still rough from sleep.

"Morning.", you reply, stretching both arms towards the tall man, "Come back to bed?"

He doesn't even hesitate, quickly crossing the room with two large steps and slipping between the covers with you, pulling you against his own body. You shiver a bit, moaning slightly at the heat radiating from him.

"Slept well?", you ask, your breath tickling his neck.

"Like a rock. And you?"

"Same. I haven't had such a good night's sleep in a really long time."

"Well, you were pretty exhausted."

You hear the smirk in Rowoon's voice and decide to tease him a bit: "Oh yeah, three movies are a lot to take in."

He tickles your sides, making you giggle - the most beautiful sound in the world to him.

You gaze up at him, eyes sparkling with humor. He can't hold himself back anymore and presses his lips against yours, tongue slipping into your mouth.

A few minutes later, both of you are breathless.

"I had the most amazing night.", Rowoon finally says, the corners of his mouth curling into a soft smile.

"Me too.", you answer, giving him another quick kiss.

"I... Just so I'm clear - I don't want this to be a one-time-only-thing.", the young man confesses, holding his breath until you're grinning widely at him.

"Oh thank god, me neither."

He laughs at that, pulling you even closer and pressing his lips against your forehead. "So... can I take you out on a date tonight?"

You smile. "I thought you'd never ask."

[masterlist] | [requests] 

[cherry-holland]

Safe Haven - h.o.

Summary - sometimes, your safety bubble needs a good pop.

A/N - HI everyone!! So this is my first one-shot in what seems like forever to me, so please go easy on me!!! I was originally gonna go with a different storyline, but my heart was set on this sooo here we are 🥰

Warnings - nothing but fluff, maybe a slight bit of angst, but mainly fluff 🥰

~~~~

“Are you sure you know where you’re going?” You ask while your best friend, Clara, drags you and the tall, faux leather heels you’d rather not be in tonight along the pebbled pavement.

“Yes, (y/n), now will you stop worrying and have a good damn time? Let loose girl!” Clara laughs.

A deep sigh leaves your mouth as a silent agreement. You and a few friends were in London for the week vacationing, and they all had planned the entire trip without your knowing. It had all been great - you got lost in the lovey, whimsical streets of London with your closest friends while enjoying all of the delicacies it had to offer. But tonight, you just wanted to stay at the Airbnb and just enjoy each other’s companies... and of course, your friends had other plans.

Clara and the rest of your crew wanted to taste a bit of the London nightlife, and they whisked you out of your sweats and into a tight, form fitting red dress that did an amazing job at highlighting your cleavage and curves. Everyone was dressed to the nines tonight, and you knew where you were headed before you even left the house because of the obvious club attire.

Back home, you were not much of a party girl. You were the girl who would rather be cuddled up on the couch, with a good cup of coffee in hand, and an amazingly sappy rom-com playing in the background. It took a lot out of your friends to get you to even agree to go to London, even though you had always wanted to go since you were little. You liked to know what was going to happen next - the expected was safety. The only safety you knew.

Your felt that bubble start to expand when you and Clara reached the entrance of the club. It was a small, cozy-yet-edgy building that had various different colored lights cascading outside of the door, illuminating the dark and gloomy evening. You and Clara breezed by the line of people anxiously waiting to get in, hearing muffled groans as you two walked by.

You were so lost in your thoughts that you missed when Clara slipped the bouncer a big bill, and gave a sly wink as he let the two of you through. You felt Clara tug on your hand as you two weaved through the massive crowd of people inside. People who had drinks in hand, dancing as if they didn’t have a care in the world. As if their safety bubble was non-existent.

“Hey guys, we’ve made it!” Clara exclaimed as she reached the table with the rest of your friends. She tossed her long, dark locks as she sauntered over to give the group a hug, and you followed suit.

“Well, well, well, we finally got (y/n) inside of a club! Thought we’d never see the day!” One of your friends, Allie, spoke as she gave you a hug, feigning surprise.

“Oh hush, Allie, we can’t all be big partiers like you,” you snap back sarcastically, drawing a hoard of laughter from the group.

“Oh, (y/n), you’re too much,” your other friend, Elias, sighs, shaking his head jokingly. “Are y’all gonna get drinks, or are you gonna just stand there while we get plastered?”

“Trust me, we’re getting this bitch wasted tonight!” Clara shouts, nudging you. “She needs to let loose, and hell, maybe find a man...”

“Clara,” you gasp, slapping your friend on her shoulder. “I am in no way gonna be man-hunting tonight! We’re in a foreign country, and I am not a one-night-stand kind of girl! We’ve talked about this.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, we all know (y/n/n),” Allie shakes her head, and her face changes from one of playfulness to seriousness. “Really though, you should though! You’re exactly right - you’re in a foreign country... if you can call England that. And, you look freaking hot as hell, you should own it!”

You bow your head down as you feel the heat rising to your cheeks, having your hair cover your obvious blush. Compliments have never been easy for you, regardless of who they’re coming from. But you knew deep down inside that you did look good, and you took a deep sigh. Your friends were right - you knew you looked good, and you also knew that no matter what happened, that your friends were here to help you if anything.

“Fine, let’s go get some drinks,” you look up to Clara, who’s grinning wickedly.

The two of you navigate the crowd as you reach the bar. Clara flags down the bartender as you lean against the cold, shiny edge of the mahogany table, just taking in the scenery. British clubs were a lot different than American clubs, but in a way they all have the same vibe. People getting drunk. People dancing suggestively against strangers and friends. The random couples sprinkled throughout making out like if it’s the last time they’ll see each other. It’s all the same.

“Hey, (y/n), what drink do you want?” Clara shouts, her thick Spanish accent shining through her words.

“Um, I’ll have a Long Island iced tea!” You reply with a smile.

“Hmm, never seen anyone order that around here before,” you hear a heavily accented voice to your right.

You turn around to see probably the most beautiful boy you have ever laid your eyes on. His dark blonde hair was slightly gelled back, but you could see he had gorgeous little ringlets sitting atop his head. His piercing light blue eyes were glimmering, with what seemed to be genuine intrigue, but you think it could just be the alcohol from the beer in his hand. He’s smiling this big, movie star smile, all teeth, and you can make out the smallest faint of a dimple in his left cheek.

“Oh, um, yeah, it’s one of my favorites,” you mutter, and that same heat is instantly back on your cheeks, threatening to take over your entire face.

The boy smiles as he raises his eyebrows curiously at you, and you instantly knew he caught you staring a bit too long. “Ah, I see. You’re not from ‘round here, are you?” He drawls, his charming accent oozing out.

“No, I think that’s pretty obvious,” you laugh nervously, ruffling your neatly done hair to one side.

“Yeah, your accent alone gave you away before I heard the drink order,” he replies, mimicking your nervous giggle. “I’m Harrison.”

“Oh hey, I’m (y/n). Didn’t know my accent was a dead giveaway that soon,” you grin, raising your eyebrows teasingly.

“Love, that accent can be easily picked out in this place. It’s not everyday you see such a gorgeous American in some small, unknown club in the heart of London,” Harrison says, moving a bit closer to you with that damn charming smile and glint of mischief in his blue eyes.

You felt yourself blushing for the third time that night at his comment. Gorgeous American? Is he serious? “Well, then it must be my luck, huh?”

“I guess it is, darling,” Harrison smirks as he takes a swig of his beer.

“(Y/n/n)! I have your -“ Clara interrups the moment between you and Harrison, and a devilish grin paints her face. “Oh hello. Sorry to interrupt you guys, I’ll leave you two to your conversation.” She walks away after handing you your drink before you two could even respond, sending a wink your way.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry about her,” you start, groaning at her response.

“It’s okay. My mates would have done the same thing, give or take a few comments,” Harrison replies with a chuckle.

The two of you laugh at his comment, and you both look up at each other with flushed faces.

“So, (y/n), what brings you to London?”

The question brings about a flurry of conversation between the two of you, and you notice how easy it was to talk to Harrison. He made conversation so easily, just talking about everything from his job and his family, and his attentiveness to your responses was attractive. He didn’t seem like a douchebag who only wanted a quick shag, he seemed... so safe, yet something about him was alluring.

“Wow, I can’t believe we’ve been just talking for... holy shit, almost two hours?” You say as you look at your phone after a while. “Oh my God, Harrison I am so sorry I’m taking you away from your evening.”

“No, no, love. You’re not bothering me at all. Actually, it’s quite the opposite,” Harrison insists, laying a hand on top of yours that was perched on top of the bar counter. “You’ve made this evening far more bearable for me. I’m enjoying your company.”

Holy shit. You feel your lips curl up in a bashful smile as you desperately try to keep your cool. “Well, Harrison, I am enjoying your company too.”

You felt the strong hit of the one too many Long Island iced teas you’d had while taking to Harrison hit you, and the liquid courage it brings. You intertwine your hand that was underneath Harrison’s and felt his soft yet slightly rough hand easily slip through your tiny, smooth one. You placed your free hand on Harrison’s thigh, with your eyes flickering up to him. You felt the immense heat of desire flare up in your chest as your (y/e/c) eyes locked with his icy blues.

Harrison’s leg tensed, and you saw his cheeks turn from a slight pink from the alcohol to an almost deep red at your touch. You saw his eyes go soft, and it nearly made your heart burst out of your chest.

You also noticed his eyes flickering down to your neatly painted red lips, and back up again to your eyes. Once again, those damn baby blues caught your heart off-guard, and you swore he could hear your heart pounding like crazy. Going crazy with desire, want, need. It was as if they had this magnetic force that was driving you towards him, like it was your achellies heel.

Harrison and you were slowly moving towards one another, that magnetic force too obvious to deny. “Can... can I kiss you?” Harrison whispered so softly that you almost missed it.

You two were so close that the words ghosted your skin as you nodded softly, leaning in to lock your lips together. The kiss was something you had never experienced before. It was slow and passionate, displaying words of affection you had no idea how to express. It was as if someone had lit the beginning end of a sparkler in the darkest of July evenings. A spark that you and Harrison couldn’t deny much longer.

You broke away slightly from the mesmerizing kiss to catch your breath. “Wow.”

“Wow, indeed,” Harrison breathed out a chuckle, resting his forehead on yours. “That was...”

“Amazing,” you finished, eyes fleeting back to his, and you felt your heart soften and swell at his gaze.

“(Y/n), I can’t let you leave without asking to see you again,” Harrison confessed. “I don’t know what it is, but I have this feeling that you’re... I don’t know... supposed to be in my life.”

You twisted your face slightly in confusion at his words, but the soft expression never left it. “Hmm, how so?”

Harrison sighed as he gazed into your (y/e/c) orbs. “I’m not sure, but I feel this attraction to you, and I’m afraid if I let you go, I’ll lose you for good. And, I don’t want to lose that... this.”

His hand slowly came up to your face and caressed your cheek, feeling the warmth of your face in his hand. “To be honest, me either,” you reply. “It’s crazy though, we barely know each other, but I feel like it’s...”

“Fate,” Harrison finished, leaning in to give a full, passionate kiss to your lips.

In that kiss, you felt all your emotions burst out of your safety bubble. This was someone who you had just met, but it feels like you’ve known him your whole life. It was crazy the effect Harrison had on you, even from the first glance. He was your safe space, and your taste of adventure, and it was something you didn’t want to let go of, in this little club in the streets of London. This little safe haven.

tagged: @hazssouthernbelle

[yungimmortals]

spoilers | graves & cleo

date: june 21st, 2020

summary: morning after the masquerade. in through the door, clothes on the floor. out the window, there they go!

When sleeping in a clear spot to watch the stars, the sky was also open to the first rays of the sun to wake you up. Which would not be a problem, except that Cleo and Graves had fallen asleep (passed out mid-conversation) a mere hours earlier when Artemis and Apollo had been switching off chariot duty. Cleo’s mouth tasted of stale alcohol, and when she pushed herself up off of Graves’s shoulder, she could feel her hair sticking up in odd directions. She wasn’t insecure about her appearance, but she was pretty sure her eye makeup was either now non-existent or on a place on her face other than her eyes, and that wasn’t the cutest of looks. Despite that, she was happy as she woke up. The bed of a truck wasn’t somewhere you wanted to sleep for more than a few hours, even if there were as many blankets as Graves kept there. As she saw him stir as well, Cleo smiled down at him. “I think... I might still be kind of drunk,” she admitted with a laugh.

Feeling Cleo stir beside him, Graves cracked one eye open, squinting up at the sky. The rosy colors of dawn had started to light up the early morning clouds, giving the world a peachy glow. He turned his head to his shoulder, stifling a yawn and shielding Cleo from his breath which probably smelled worse than a hydra's. With a groan, he pushed himself up and inched back to lean against the side of the truck and stretch his legs. Graves wiggled his fingers at Cleo, a sleepy smile on his face. "I...also think that I am...the same," he mumbled, his voice gravelly.

His hair was sticking up in every possible direction and no amount of trying to flatten it with his hand was helping. Despite his rumpled appearance, he was elated; they'd fallen asleep after a night of drinking and dancing and joking around. Graves was thankful he always left a supply of blankets and pillows in his truck but, as his stomach growled, he wished he'd thought to keep some snacks in the cab as well. "D'you wanna...get some food?" He turned to Cleo with a grin as his stomach growled again, more insistent this time.

Cleo sat up fully, drew her legs up to her chest, and wrapped a blanket around her shoulders. She rubbed her eye, not caring enough that her makeup was going to get messed up if it was probably already a lost cause. She giggled at his response and wiggled her fingers back at him. “Drunk or sleepy. Or both.” She wrapped the blanket around herself more, so that only her head was poking out. 

She was tempted to tell him not to bother fixing his hair; that the floppy look was adorable and that she didn’t mind if it wasn’t nice anyway, but she figured that if she brought it up at all, it would just make him embarrassed. That in itself was somewhat compelling, since she’d get to see him red and mumbly, but her attention was brought elsewhere. “Yes,” her response was immediate. She needed a few things, and food was high on the list. “I need to brush my teeth first, I taste like a distillery.”

"Maybe both. Def sleepy though," he cleared his throat and rolled his shoulders back, satisfied when he heard one pop. "Gods, same. I don't remember drinkin' things that tasted this bad but I need to be minty fresh, stat." Slowly, Graves stood and climbed out of the truck, still feeling stiffness in his bones from spending the night outside. He held out his hands to help Cleo climb down. "We can stop at my cabin? I have clothes you can borrow too, so we don't show up at the diner like....this." He laughed, gesturing to his own rumpled shirt, suit jacket still tossed somewhere in the cab of the truck. "How's that sound?"

Cleo stretched as well, tossing her neck from side to side to open everything up. “Drinks hardly taste bad until the next day. We’re lucky it’s because we slept in a truck and not because we’ve thrown up.” She took his hand and hopped down, exhaling a small laugh at his state before she looked down at her own rumpled shirt and slacks. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Cam,” she said, clearly amused, squeezing his hand for emphasis. “But I guess if I look that baaad...” She laughed and swung their hands for a moment. “Sure, it sounds comfy. Should I borrow a toothbrush there or scramble home at the same time?”

He squeezed her hand in return, laughing lightly as she swung them. "Not what I meant at all, y'look great, Bancroft. I just thought you might want to add another pair of my sweatpants to your collection." Graves gave her a pointed look, but smiled so it was clear that he didn't mind. "I have extras so we can just make one stop, that cool?"

Cleo laughed and pressed his hand into her cheek, then moved to start pulling him towards the cabins. “Fine, that’s cool, but only because your sweatpants are so comfy, and only only because it’s your birthday.”

As they walked, Graves threw his hand around Cleo's shoulder. "Pretty good birthday, so far." Arriving at the Hermes cabin, he poked his head inside. "Coast is clear, c'mon," he whispered over his shoulder, reaching down to find her hand and give it another squeeze, hoping to lend some much-needed luck before he darted inside.

Cleo felt almost antsy as she followed Graves to the Hermes cabin. Just something about showing up to a place, with a guy she liked, whose sisters hated her, wearing last night's clothes... She was enticed. She held back a laugh when he squeezed her hand, almost holding her breath as she followed him. Once they were safely in his room, she felt safe enough to speak again, though kept her voice at a whisper. "Do you think we'll be the first people in the diner, save the staff? Oh my gods, do you think they'll hate us?" Her stomach growled, and she realized that she didn't care.

Graves closed the door behind Cleo, leaning against the door for a moment with a trademark Hermes kid grin on his face. He nodded, before bursting into action, rifling through his drawers. "We might be but-" He stifled a laugh with the back of his hand as Cleo's stomach growled. "I don't care either. I'll tip real nice, they'll be fine with it." He tossed her a pair of grey sweatpants and pulled open his t-shirt drawer, gesturing between her and the drawer before rummaging around in his closet. Over his shoulder he said, "Pick whatever shirt you want. Hoodie or flannel?"

Cleo didn’t hesitate to start changing her pants once Graves handed her the sweatpants. “Ugh, thank you. I don’t know how I slept in slacks,” she said, as though that was the least comfortable part of sleeping in the back of a truck. She exhaled a small laugh. “Plus, otherwise they’re just waiting around until people come in.” She nodded as she made her way over to his drawer. She pulled out a gaudy shirt that looked like it was about ten years old and held it out to him. “This one right here’s a winner. Love me some hot beer and lousy food.” She grinned. “Ooo, um, hoodie, please.”

To give Cleo some privacy, Graves kept his back to her, beginning to undo the buttons on his dress shirt and tossing it in a heap on his chair before taking off his belt. It joined his rumpled shirt on the desk chair a moment later, along with his pants. He quickly hopped into the pair of sweats he'd grabbed, then fished around in his closet again for a hoodie to give to Cleo. Unsure of her state of undress, he didn't turn around, instead calling out a warning over his shoulder as he tossed her the hoodie. "Incomin'!" Still looking in the closet for something to wear, he heard her comment on the shirt she'd picked and instantly knew which one it was. "Hey! Duffy's is a Myrtle Beach staple. I'll take you sometime, you can judge for yourself."

Cleo knew it was just curtesy, but she found it sweet that Graves didn’t turn around at all. She supposed that she should give him an equal amount of privacy, and stopped herself from running her eyes down his bare back, turning away from him. She squeaked and grabbed the hoodie from the air as it landed on her, and put the shirt back in the drawer, picking out something that looked about as comfy and not nearly as sentimental. “What an offer!” She laughed as she pulled the shirt over her head and took her dress top off under it. “Bringing me to a place with terrible service and food? I’m so in.” She pulled the hoodie on, warm and enveloped in Graves’s scent— the reason why she’d chosen it. She balled her hands up around the sleeves and made a content noise. “Are you feeling sweet or savory?”

"It's a great offer!" Graves laughed loudly, "The service...is slow, but the food is delicious and they make bangin' drinks. Plus, it's walkin' distance from my house and across the street from the ocean. What's not to like about that?" He pulled a flannel out of his closet and tossed it over one shoulder, turning around at her question and walking to his dresser. Rifling through the drawer for a shirt to finish off his outfit, he glanced at Cleo. The sight of her in his sweatshirt made him smile a little crooked grin. "Definitely feelin' sweet, come on Bancroft. You already know I'm getting waffles for breakfast. How 'bout you?"

Cleo listened as Graves described the restaurant, feeling the nostalgia dripping from his words. “It does sound nice,” she agreed. “I guess I’ll tell you what I think when you bring me there.” She glanced back at him when she noticed him move, and moved closer, struck with the sudden urge to wrap her arms around him. She stopped herself, but moved behind him, and pressed her face into the flannel on his shoulder to rest there for a moment. “Oh. How can I pass up waffles? Diners are all about having an excuse to have dessert for breakfast. I can make eggs at home.”

Graves dipped his head to hide the look of excitement on his face. "You've got yourself a deal. Next time I make the trip home, you're my co-pilot." He let his head rest on Cleo's for a second before moving away to pull on the t-shirt he'd grabbed and to slip into his flannel. Patting his pockets, his eyes scanned the room for his wallet, finding it on his desk. "A waffle girl, I knew I liked you," he joked, pocketing his wallet and looking over at Cleo. He quickly rummaged through a drawer; a moment later, he looked triumphant. "Toothbrush?"

Do not press a kiss into his shoulder. Cleo squeezed her eyes shut and repressed the urge. She leaned back when he moved and smiled at him, reaching out to take his wrist with both of hers as he found his wallet. "I know you are not thinking of paying on your birthday, Cameron." She laughed, shaking her head. "I will be taking that toothbrush though, please."

His face quirked into a half-smile as Cleo's hands wrapped around his wrist, gently tugging his hand away from his wallet. Graves pressed his hand to his heart, eyes bright. "I was, only because I had planned on treatin' you. But if you insist," he smiled, letting his hand drop, before remembering that he was holding the toothbrush which he then passed to Cleo. "C'mon, let's get cleaned up and out of here. I'm starvin'."

“Of course I insist, Cam!” Cleo laughed, happy that he didn’t protest. “What kind of friend would I be letting you spend money on your birthday? Not allowed.” She shook her head, the took the toothbrush from him. Reluctantly, she dropped his wrist before poking her head out the door, then crept to the bathroom, walking on tip toes as though that might help her hide from the Hermes girls. She held her brush out for toothpaste once they were ready. “Remember when you brushed your teeth at my place? I’m glad I didn’t have to dislocate my shoulder before this.”

"I'll remember that on your birthday, Bancroft," Graves smiled at her, fluffing his hair up with his hand in an attempt to rid himself of his bedhead. He darted to the bathroom, waiting until Cleo was inside to close the door behind them, grinning at their luck. Less lucky was the sound the toothpaste made as he knocked several things over in the medicine cabinet in an attempt to grab it. "Shit," he whispered loudly, trying not to laugh. Toothpaste on both their brushes, he returned it to the cabinet and raised his eyebrows at Cleo as he started to brush his teeth. "Don't think I could forget that if I tried," he stopped brushing to admit.

Cleo wet her brush and gave him a foamy smile, doing her best not to laugh at the mess he accidentally made. “Gonna have t’shneak out th’window.” She said around the toothbrush, shaking her head at him. She spit, took a bit of extra time on her tongue, and then rinsed her mouth, flashing him a now-clean smile. “Ready for some diner coffee and waffles? I’m picking up the tab, so feel free to get a steak and a smoothie and onion rings too.” She laughed, then covered her mouth when she realized that she probably shouldn’t be making so much noise when she was in the enemy household.

Graves finished brushing his teeth and cupped some water in his hands to splash on his face. "Nothin' I haven't done before," he dried his face with a towel and returned her smile. "Coffee and waffles sounds fuckin' mint. You're already tryin' to spoil me, I won't take advantage." He moved to the window, looking over his shoulder as he popped it open. Cleo's concern with getting caught by his sisters was cute, but right now Graves felt downright invincible. He jutted a thumb at the now-open window, mischief all over his face, voice innocent when he spoke. "You said this was our way out, right?"

As she watched Graves rinse his face, Cleo realized what a good idea that would be, and followed his lead, doing the same after. She wiped her face dry with the sleeves of Graves’s hoodie and smiled at him. “Not taking advantage, just having the perfect birthday brunch.” When he motioned to the window, she laughed once more, and skipped the short way over. “I did. Normally I’d like it if there were some vines and a veranda to climb down, but I guess I won’t complain.”

"Vines?" Graves scoffed, halfway out the window already. "You don't need vines, just step on the ledge where the paint's chipped a little and climb on out, I'll catch ya, swear." He shimmied out the rest of the way and hopped to the ground, beaming up at Cleo, silhouetted inside. He held out a hand, "Do you trust me?"

Cleo pressed the sleeve into her mouth as she smiled. “Where we’re going, we don’t need vines,” she mimicked Graves in a low voice, amused and comfortable and charmed. She followed him out the window, took his hand, and looked him in the eye as she hopped down. “I do,” she admitted plainly. “Is that a bad idea?”

Graves met Cleo's gaze as she gracefully landed next to him in the grass. Sunlight caught on a curl of her hair, his eyes flickered to it. Don't tuck her hair behind her ear. He repressed the urge, looking back at her as his lips quirked up in a crooked smile. "Maybe, but don't you want to find out?"

Cleo repositioned their hands so that their fingers were interlaced, and she returned his smile back to him. "You're right. I hate spoilers."

[revivedandabandonedkids]

This is haihiro my dudes

also it's in second person pov

//

The true appeal of alcohol isn't the taste, because lord it tastes like shit, but there's a charm in the feeling of intoxication, of escaping your own skin for a while, of existing without being. Maybe the same argument could be used for cigarettes, or even drugs, but you wouldn't know. You've never tried, and you're in no hurry to do so. Either of so. The wind is breezy and it tussles your hair unattractively. You spit out a chunk of hair and you ask, "Why do you behave the way you do?"

Kira Hiroto doesn't answer the question like you'd hoped he would, which is mildly disappointing. But he hands you another beer, so you let it slide. Instead you fire a new accusation. "You think I'm a bother." The statement burns on your tongue and seizes your heart. What other possibility could it be? Why else would he be sitting out here, if not hiding from you. It's insulting, seeing as he is the one who "invited" you here.

Hiroto doesn't nod his confirmation, to your bewilderment. He's usually the quickest to jump in to criticize you.

"You're mistaken." He chortles in that way that makes your knees a little weak. "I am a very selfish person. I'm using you."

"Strange definition of 'use', but hey, whatever floats your boat."

He laughs, then shakes his head. "No. I'm definitely using you."

"Well, I'm no linguist, but I'm under the impression that in order for you to quote unquote, 'use me', I'd have to be beneficial to you in the first place. What am I beneficial for? And if you say your happiness I will puke."

"My happiness." Hiroto says smugly.

"Fuck you."

"On this very public open space? Wow. Never took you as an exhibitionist."

You scowl, and he meets your eyes challengingly, a rare clarity digging into the back of your skull. You wonder why things have to be so hostile between the two of you all the time. Why can't there be sweet gazes and tender touching? Everything is a competition with him, and it's tiring sometimes.

"But really, that's not how using someone works."

He shakes his head again, more insistently this time. "I know what I'm talking about."

"Do you?" You retort, because it is second nature to banter with him, and because he is the one who is mistaken. "Most people would argue otherwise, seeing as I'm the golddigger here."

"Since when have I been known to mind what most people say?" His tone is light, but his shoulders are tense. "Anyway, that's not what this is about." He swings his legs between the ledges childishly, stubborn as ever. Very well. throughout all the years you've been together, you've somehow built up a tolerance for all his nonsense, you have the patience.

You take a seat beside him. "Care to enlighten me on what this is about then?"

A sigh. "I've been using you as a means to rebel against my family."

You fail to hold back the snort. "You don't say. That explains why the entire party of people were eying me like I personally slaughtered their 4-month-old kitten and draped its kitten intensils all over their fancy velvet duvets."

"If it helps, I'm pretty sure it's less about you being a dude than it is about you being a, how do I put this lightly?"

"Commoner?"

"Essentially." he shrugs.

"No offense, but your family is actually the worst."

"Non taken."

"So what exactly are you hoping to achieve from this?"

Hiroto takes a swig at his bottle. "I'm hoping they'd take away my inheretance."

"Your what now?"

His gaze into the distance is hazy and unfocused. You wonder what he's staring at. Perhaps everything at once, or maybe nothing at all.

He doesn't answer. It only bothers you a little bit, because if you're being honest, you didn't expect him to.

"You know what the best part of alcohol is?"

You have your answer, but you know that Hiroto has a different answer in mind. You also know that he's not exactly waiting for an answer from you.

The intoxication, you think.

"The fact that you could use it as an excuse for anything. You can say anything, do anything and forget all about it the following morning. You won't be held responsible."

"I guess." You offer.

He hums, and you feel his icy fingers slide into your palms. Slowly, they warm up. You feel a little giddy, whether it's from the alcohol or the rare display of affection is anybody's guess. You tighten your hold as to stop the trembling.

"I'm not saying you deserve much, because you're pretty horrible yourself, but you deserve better than this." He rests his head on your shoulder. It burns upon contact. His hair tickles your cheek quite a bit.

"Nope." You answer idly. "It's not about what I deserve or even what you deserve. It's about giving into the current situation or continue fighting.”

“Thanks for the life lecture.” He elbows you in the ribs.

“Anytime.” You crack the slightest smile.

Nothing has been resolved, as usual. You down your drink and rest your head on top of his.

It’s chilly outside.

[END]

//

I'd like to inform everyone that I am legally allowed to drink alcohol now but uh I haven't tried any yet. I might be trying some tonight though? Happy early Chinese New Year my dudes.

I thought I was over angst. I really thought so. Boy I was wrong. But in my defense this really isn't all that angsty. It's just sort of sad.

This ended up way longer than I expected it to be and I have no idea if I'm going to throw it up on ao3 or not

[ospreyarcher]

More Honeytrap

Previously on Honeytrap: Honeytrap introduction There’s only one bed!/Huddling for warmth Gennady goes to Daniel’s childhood home for Christmas Gunshot wound with hurt/comfort and stoicism Daniel gets drunk as a skunk and kisses Gennady

This week in Honeytrap, we’re going back to Gennady’s first POV scene in the book, where he contemplates the honey trap mission that he has been given. It does not fill him with joy.

Content warnings for implied/referenced sexual assault, workplace sexual harassment, general consent issues, drinking (let me just blanket content warn for the whole book on this one. Everyone is going to drink a lot), the generally distressing nature of totalitarian dictatorships.

***

After Daniel left, Gennady lit his cigarette and sat for a while, watching the lowering dusk as he smoked. As a matter of fact, Daniel’s drinking habits – or non-drinking habits, more precisely – seemed liable to undermine Gennady’s mission.  

Oh, not his official mission: not the investigation into the assassination attempt on Khrushchev, not that anyone expected that to turn up much of anything anyway. “Now listen, Gennady, it’s obvious what actually happened,” Stepan Pavlovich had said. “Clearly the Americans tried to assassinate our Nikita Sergeyevich but failed through poor marksmanship, and now they’re trying to cover it up.’

Gennady did not think this was at all the obvious explanation – surely the Americans weren’t that sanguine about their chances of winning a thermonuclear war? – but it was his experience that a few decades with the intelligence services turned people’s brains to paranoid mush, so he said, “Of course, sir.”

“The only reason they’ve agreed to allow a Soviet officer on the case because they want a chance to become better acquainted with our working methods,” Stepan Pavlovich went on, exasperated. “Really, this whole idea is – ” He paused for a long moment, then said, “Well, it’s the Chairman’s idea. It’s a brilliant opportunity for us to gather some more intelligence about the FBI’s methods, as I’m sure he foresaw. See if you can’t find out anything about their secret military installations. Of course that’s mostly farther west, but still, it’s worth seeing if there is anything your American partner won’t take you to see.”

“My American partner,” echoed Gennady, his soul expanding. His American partner: Ilf to his Petrov. (Gennady had read Ilf and Petrov’s travelogue One-Storied America approximately five thousand times since he was eight.) They would drive for days on the beautiful smooth American highways, listening to American radio and stopping at diners for coffee and doughnuts, and Gennady could get to know a real American and see what they were really like once you got past the fake smiles.  

But these dreams lasted only until Gennady got back to his own office, where Arkady was pacing the floor in fury over Gennady’s reassignment. “Stepan Pavlovich is trying to undermine me again,” he fumed. “A joint Soviet-American investigation? He’s trying to frame us all as American spies, I know it. He’s always poaching my best people right when I need them!”

This was the first time Gennady had heard that Arkady placed any particular value on him at all.

“Well, if Stepan Pavlovich is going to try to undermine me, then the least I can do is take advantage of this opportunity to secure a new source – something that will give me an edge over him. Honey trap the American agent for me, Gennady.”

Gennady’s hopes for the trip collapsed. He did not want to go from being pawed by Arkady to being pawed (and probably worse) by an American.

But. But. “Wouldn’t it be better to send a woman?” Gennady asked.

Arkady waved an impatient hand. “It will be fine. All men want to fuck younger men.”

Gennady shifted in his chair. He had learned that Arkady’s pronouncements, no matter how absurd, where impervious to direct attack, yet he felt he ought to temper Arkady’s expectations somehow. “I’m not sure…”

“Listen,” Arkady interrupted. “I can see why you’re worried, Gennady, it would be better if you were younger and prettier. But after all, you don’t look nearly as old as you are – that baby face.”

He reached across the desk, cupping Gennady’s cheek in his hand, and turned his face from side to side. “Make sure you shave. And get an American suit. As for the rest, you’re a naturally seductive person, Gennady, it will be all right.”

He gave Gennady’s face a quick double pat, hard enough that it was almost a slap.

So Gennady went home and got drunk and sulked, because in the first place you couldn’t imagine Ilf blackmailing Petrov, theirs was one of the great friendships of literary history and they would never betray each other. And in the second place, if the American behaved like Arkady, it would spoil this trip which had been the dream of his life since he first marveled at Ilf and Petrov’s photographs.

He could just see it, they would be driving down a black tarmac highway, with the trees arched over it and the sunlight dappling through just like the photograph – and the American would grope him over the gear shaft. He would drag Gennady into bizarre perverted capitalist sex practices. He would probably sodomize him with a Coke bottle. Unfair, unfair.  

Then the drunkenness began to ebb and Gennady realized that it was all more likely to go wrong in the opposite direction: it might be impossible to seduce the American. How did you seduce a man, anyway? All Gennady had ever done was exist in Arkady’s general vicinity, and in any case Arkady had shifted his attentions instantly when Nikolai – younger and prettier – got assigned to the department.

Gennady stumbled into the bathroom to vomit. Then he opened the window to stick his head out into the early October air. By Moscow standards October in DC was hardly cool, but it cleared his head, at which point the obvious solution presented itself.

Drunkenness.

Get a man drunk enough and he would do anything: piss icicles into snow banks in negative forty degree weather, brawl with traffic cops, kiss other men. Just look at Alyosha, Gennady’s cousin Oksana’s husband, who lived with them sometimes until Oksana got fed up with him and kicked him out. Then Oksana would leave too, going back to her mother’s room in another kommunalka, or staying with a friend so Alyosha wouldn’t know where to find her.

Inevitably Alyosha would come to the door, falling down drunk and crying about Oksana, Oksana, how could he live without Oksana, falling on Gennady’s neck and sobbing into his shoulder and kissing the side of his face as Gennady explained that Oksana had gone away, and no, he didn’t know where, and “Get off me, you oaf, I don’t even look like her.”

“You taste like her,” Alyosha said once.

“Everyone tastes like eau de cologne when that’s what you’ve been drinking!”

When Grandfather was home, Gennady would pin Alyosha down and sit on him till he went to sleep. If Grandfather was elsewhere, and Alyosha had brought something drinkable  (“I draw the line at furniture polish, Alyoshka”), Gennady would drink with him and let Alyosha jerk him off, because why not? After all, Gennady didn’t get to see his girlfriend Galya often, and a hand was a hand was a hand; and it kept Alyosha from wandering back out into the night and maybe drowning in two inches of filthy water in the gutter.  

So, anyway, although Arkady had probably overstated the case with all men want to fuck other men, most men would at least fuck around with other men if they were drunk enough. All Gennady had to do was wait for Special Agent Daniel Hawthorne to get bombed, then sit on his lap and let nature take care of the rest. None of this groping over the gear shaft or Coke bottle business. It didn’t have to be awful. It didn’t have to be like Arkady at all.

Whatever else happened, this assignment had gotten him away from Arkady. Maybe permanently. Stepan Pavlovich had dangled the possibility of a promotion into his department.

And now Gennady was on the road, which was just as wonderful as Ilf and Petrov’s photographs, miles of smooth tarmac and friendly attendants at all the gas stations, who were happy to give you road maps and discuss directions to any place nearby. (You could tell this was a nation that had not suffered a land war in nearly a hundred years.)

And Hawthorne wasn’t a bad travel companion. Certainly not the Arkady type. Of course the man had faults: too serious about his work perhaps, impatient for results, certainly too straightforward. The attempt to gather blackmail with the strip club suggestion had been laughable, although in a way Gennady was glad that the American was trying to gather blackmail on him as well. It evened things up somehow.

And really he wasn’t as stupid as the strip club ploy would suggest. In fact, Gennady suspected the strip club was only an opening gambit designed to put Gennady’s guard down in its incompetence, and really Hawthorne meant to talk him into slandering the Soviet Union. Devious, but clever, you had to admit. The strategy played to his strengths: he was likeable, good-looking, funny, easy to talk to. Just look at the way he got the witnesses talking, just by seeming so interested in what they had to say.

Gennady didn’t really want to blackmail him.

Not that it mattered much, given that Hawthorne didn’t drink. Oh, a beer with dinner sometimes, but beer was barely even alcohol, it didn’t count. No true drinker would turn down a flask just because he didn’t happen to like the drink – when it was schnapps, which was meant for human consumption, no furniture polish!

Well, after all, that solved the Ilf-and-Petrov problem, didn’t it? If Hawthorne never got drunk enough to honey trap, then Gennady would never be in any position to betray him. Unfortunate, of course (Gennady imagined explaining this to Arkady), but after all, it would blow the whole mission to push the seduction angle too hard, and the most important thing was to find out who tried to shoot our dear Nikita Sergeyevich, wasn’t that true, Arkady Anatolyevich?

That would be altogether the best solution. Except it didn’t seem likely they would find the shooter – and if they didn’t, there’d be no promotion out of Arkady’s department. So, so, so.

So he’d just wait and see. Perhaps the knot would untie itself one way or the other. And in the meantime, he had already seen more of America than he had ever expected to see.

***

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[ephemeral-writings]

Everything I Need // 03

oh sehun x reader

genre: angst, fluff

word count: 3.3k

Everything I Need // oh sehun teaches you a thing or two about life. but falling for the boy who lived across from you was not what you had anticipated.  

Part 01 / Part 02 / Part 03 / Part 04 / Part 05

//////

Thankfully, there wasn’t another letter from your father found in your mailbox. Weeks passed before the anxiety in you finally let up, and you were back to your old self, a sleep deprived student with a sack of stress, but nevertheless, relieved that the non-existent communication with your father ceased. It was like the letter never existed.

However, the idea that he could possibly find you once--if-- he gets out on parole chips little pieces of sanity you still have within you.

“Let’s meet when I get out, okay? Appa will try his best to get out early so we can start over again.”

But you didn’t want to start over. You had to restart your life the minute you walked out of that house, and you will continue as so. Alone. You had managed three years without him, and if he had any thoughts on leaning on you for help, he was better off staying in prison.

It was Saturday night, and though you’d usually avoid all social events that forces you to interact with people, you had agreed to go to Jongdae’s birthday party since he did personally stopped you after class on Wednesday just to invite you. The least you could do was show up and wish him a happy birthday. Also, the better part of you decided that for your sanity, you needed to be somewhere that wasn’t your apartment.

You warned Jongdae beforehand that you’d be late since you were working, but he waved it aside, assuring you that the party wasn’t going to end at 11pm, the time you told him you’d finish work. So you rushed home after your shift, managed to squeeze in a quick four minute shower and apply the bare minimum of makeup just to look somewhat like you’ve made an effort. Your hair styled itself once you released it from the bun you had on for work, natural waves falling just below your elbows.

Jongdae had texted you the address earlier that week, but you didn’t think about checking it out first. Looking at the outside of the club now, you physically felt inclined to hop back in the cab you took and go home. The music was loud even from outside, you couldn’t imagine how wrecked your ears would be by the end of the night.

Here goes nothing.

There was a short line to get in, and you didn’t even wait five minutes before it was your turn to flash your ID and the bouncer finds your name on the clipboard he’s holding, and allows you through. Inside, it was loud, to say the least, but bearable. There are minimal tables floating around the circumference of the dance floor where small groups stood around, conversing with their drinks on the small round tables. Booths were elevated on a platform that wrapped around the whole club, some filled to the brim, others deserted as patrons found entertainment on the dance floor. The only thing that separate the dance floor from the tables were gold metal bars with red velvet detailings to match the floors. Somehow, even through the music, you heard your name being called out by someone. That someone being the birthday boy himself. He extricated himself from the large group of people, some of them peering at who Jongdae was running over to.

“You made it!” Jongdae gave you a one-arm hug, his other hand homing a cup with clear liquid.

“Yeah, I did,” you chuckle lightly and wish him a happy birthday to which he smiles gratefully.

“You look amazing. Was your hair always this long? How was work? Can I get you something to drink?” You could see that he was already tipsy from how warm his body was, and his hyperactive nature seemed tenfold as he fired questions at you before you could even open your mouth to answer.

“It’s alright, Jongdae. Why don’t you rejoin your friends? They’re looking for you, hmm?” You spoke to him as if you were speaking to a child. He gives you another hug before doing so, reminding you to have a good time. You weren’t too sure how to do that, but nodded in response.

You made your way to the bar which was on the opposite side of the club. A whole right wall made up the bar with a long mahogany island that separated the club go-ers and the bartenders. You found an empty seat easily, settling on it and trying to make yourself more comfortable in the unfamiliar setting. One look around and you noticed that everyone was around your age, some you even recognize from class. You guessed that Jongdae might’ve booked the whole club for his big day, and invited everyone he knew. You weren’t necessarily close to Jongdae, but he was the nicest person you’ve ever met and somehow made you feel like you were old friends. It was just too bad you don’t know anyone else at the party.

“Can I get you something, miss?”

The voice came directly from over your shoulder where your back was facing the island. You spun around to see a familiar face.

“Sehun?”

“Y/N?” Your neighbor looked surprise but not as much as you. A club was the last place you’d think you’d meet Sehun at, especially with the man standing behind the bar, asking to get you a drink. Speaking of which, you took a moment to appreciate his get-up. A striped button down with a small logo of the club embroidered on the right tip of the collar hugged his frame a little too perfectly. Around his neck was a velvet red necktie that matched the club’s red interior. Over his shirt was a neat, plaid vest also stitched with the club logo on the left breast. He cleaned up considerably well.

“Y/N,” Sehun called, snapping you back to reality. The tiny smirk on his face tells you he had caught you staring, and you flushed. “So, something to drink? It’s all on the house.”

“Um, I- I don’t know.” You really didn’t since it was your first time. All you knew about alcohol was beer and soju, the standard. “Surprise me, I guess.”

Sehun took a few seconds to think. As he leans on the granite top from behind the counter, you tried hard not to be distracted by the way his forearms taut and literally put out on display for you to drool over. His fingers tapped on the counter while he thinks, enticing you to follow the rhythm of it. Finally, after what felt like hours being under his spell, he moved to start making you a drink.

You watched, slightly amazed at the fluidity of his movements as he maneuvers behind the counter, walking to and fro and grabbing ingredients without even checking twice. He measures each component at a speed that wasn’t rushed nor lagged, just at a pace that showed off his expertise. It showed how comfortable he was, how confident he is in his work. He didn’t say a word as he worked, and it made you slightly self-conscious that maybe he wasn’t keen on talking to the girl who lived across the hall, nevermind serving her. Sehun finished off with some garnish, a thinly sliced orange and sprig of mint, and slid you the highball glass filled with a pink-orange gradient mixture.

You’re left staring at the piece of work in amazement before Sehun motion you to try it. You hesitate to mix the liquid, not knowing if you were suppose to drink it as is or blend the two colors. Sehun, noting the look of uncertainty on you, instructed, “Mix it, so that the flavors combine.”

You did as told, and took your first sip. It was a burst of flavors in your mouth, mostly citrus, and you barely tasted the alcohol you had seen him put in.

“It’s delicious,” you complimented, taking a few more sips before asking, “What is this?”

Sehun, though still ever expressionless, eyed you with mirth swimming in his eyes as he answered, “Sex on the Beach.”

You choked mid-swallow. “Excuse me?”

Sehun looked down, feigning wiping down his near-spotless station, as he attempted to conceal his grin. “That’s the name of the drink, Y/N.”

You flushed even deeper now that you’ve had something in your system. Mildly blaming the alcohol, you shut your mouth and continue nursing the drink. Sehun excused himself while he tended to two girls who appeared at the other side of the island. It was dim, you couldn’t make out the faces of the girls, but their body language said everything. If you could tell they were hitting on Sehun, you knew for sure he had an inkling as well. You could only see his back from where you sat, and you saw his shoulders bobbing up and down from something the girl in an all-black ensemble said. Maybe a pick-up line. And from the girl’s giggle, you figured she got the reaction she wanted.

The wonders of intoxication, you thought as the tension in your body begins to expel. You’re finding it easy to forget your worries and stray towards thoughts concerning your neighbor. Granted you’ve never seen a girl around his place, you couldn’t rule out the fact that he may have a girlfriend.

You’re far from drunk, tipsy maybe, at midpoint, so when Sehun came back after accepting something the girl slid on the counter, you request another drink. “Can I just get a shot, please, if I may?” Your words were beginning to blend, so you prayed Sehun understood you over the music and everything.

“So, you’re friends with Jongdae?” Sehun asked as he bends down to grab a bottle of Hennessy. He pulled a shot glass towards him as well, but he doesn’t pour the liquor in. Sehun wordlessly motioned you to finish your drink which you had a few sips worth left.

You play with the orange slice in your cup, stabbing it with the straw to release it’s natural juice compared to the cartoned juice you saw Sehun poured in earlier. “We’re classmates, yes, but I wouldn’t necessarily call us friends.” Your lips fell into a natural pout as you think about how nonexistent your social life was. “Jongdae is just really, really nice. He’s friends with everyone, so I guess that’s a yes to answer your question. Do you know him?” You asked, cocking your head sideways as you looked at your neighbor slash bartender.  

“Sorta,” he grunted, assessing how talkative you were in your intoxicated state. “He’s my boss’s cousin. Comes by too often, if you ask me.” You made a sound of acknowledgement followed by a loud slurp that indicated the end of your cocktail. Sehun quirked a smile when you shyly peeked over the rim of your now empty glass, silently asking him for another fill.

“You here alone?” Sehun questioned as he pour you a shot of the brown liquor. He traded you it for the empty glass when he was done. You made a face that Sehun couldn’t read, and downed the shot, morphing your expression from one of dejection to disgust.

“I didn’t choose to, y’know?” Your abrupt statement only made him more confused, but he continued listening, silently, intently.

“Jongdae, like I said, is really nice. He’s friends with practically everyone on campus. He talks to me in class even though I sit all the way in the back, and he sits in the front with his friends. But does that mean I’m not? Am I secretly a bitch?” You whispered the last bit, burning holes in the mahogany wood. You’ve lost Sehun, you think, but to your surprise the shot glass in front of you disappeared and you redirect your gaze back to your neighbor. Sehun poured you another shot, though significantly less than the first.

He placed it back on your coaster, making sure you’re looking at him and listening when he tells you, “You’re far from one, Y/N. You might be...a little difficult to approach but you don’t bite.” He shrugged, “At least not the first time we met.”

“Oh, yeah,” you agreed animatedly, assuming he was talking about the day you had locked yourself out. “I was really tired and stressed that day.”

“As you are every day, it seems,” Sehun mumbled with his arms crossed. “But that’s not the day I was talking about.”

You plopped your arms on the counter, too quickly for your reflexes that weren’t top-notch functional at the moment, and you end up hitting your funny bone. You pouted while cradling your elbow. “Then what day are you talking about? We’ve never talked before then.”

Sehun prepared to explain when another tender, one of equal build and dressed identical to him, appeared behind him, tapping him on the shoulder to gain his attention.

“Thanks for covering my station, man. You wanna go on your break now?” The guy offered to take over Sehun’s station as well. You noticed the hesitation in Sehun when he glances at you, so you quickly spoke up.

“Go! Don’t mind me! I have to look for Jongdae, anyways,” you urged. You slid down your stool without falling on your face, downing your third shot as you go, before shooting Sehun a thumbs up in thanks for the service. You didn’t hear when the other bartender asked Sehun who you were, and Sehun replied with, “My interesting neighbor.”  

You were more than buzzed, you weren’t dumb enough to not know that much. Though you were the one who told Sehun to leave you, you were regretting it already. You had to admit that talking to him came easy, or maybe it was liquid courage that made you spout all those sentences the way you weren’t used to. Not long after departing the bar, a man, evidently drunk, attempted a move on you. You don’t recognize him, even when you sobered up for a second when his hand went for your waist. The guy was eventually pulled away by his group of friends when he came a little too close to your face, invading your personal bubble. They apologized on his behalf, but you ignored them, walking the opposite direction to avoid further contact with them.

You spent fifteen minutes looking for Jongdae but to no avail and gave up. It was nearing 2:30am. You texted Jongdae, letting him know that you tried searching for him to say goodbye and thanking him for inviting you. You doubted he’d respond but at least he would know you’d left on the off chance that he goes searching for you later.

You were surprised that the party was still going strong. The dance crowd had simmered down, and instead of the loud head-banging kind of music that you had walked in on, the DJ had turned it to a more chill, house-party kind of vibe. Meanwhile, your feet ached from all the walking around you had done at work and just wished to be home, sleeping. In your haze, you stumbled out the wrong door. Instead of the main entrance, you had opened the door next to it. It led to an alleyway, one that separated the club’s building from the next one over. There was a metal fence cage that blocked loiterers on the streets from coming up on the property, but the other side of the fence was where you needed to be.

And boy, did you wished you could revert back in time and chosen the right door.

“I’m so sorry, excuse me,” you stammered, and you hated that you did.

The same girl that Sehun conversed with earlier sighed dramatically and rolled her eyes at the intruder, ruby red acrylics detaching from the man’s pecs when she steps back from Sehun’s frame.You were so sure she could claw your eyes out with her manicure. You ducked your head, refusing to look at Sehun or the girl directly in the eye to save yourself from embarrassment.

“Yah, Y/N?”

You stood paralyzed in dread when you heard the voice. Unwillingly, you looked at the girl standing in front of Sehun. You remembered her eyes being cold, black coals, but when your eyes met, you saw a piercing blue that made your blood run cold.

“It really is you,” she scoffed in disbelief. Jung Liah was your ex-roommate, the girl who made your first year of university a living hell. She’s changed her look. Before, her style didn’t matched her attitude, you suppose it took time to figure out her true colors. Her black on black matched perfectly well with her black coal of a heart.

You remembered dreading going back to the dorm because you knew all it held was her wrath, unwarranted and unrelenting, and the malicious remarks she made would torture you day and night. You never figured out why she hated you so much, but you had your assumptions.

“I see you haven’t changed one bit,” she sneered. “Always the nosy little mouse, you are.”

You knew exactly what she was referring to. One day, without any ill-intentions, you had decided to tidy up the room. It was a shared space, but Liah never thought twice about leaving her stuff strewn about, taking up your space as well. You had just bent down to gather the scattered pieces of paper when she came in after one of her lectures. Peeking through her belongings, she claimed, invading her privacy, she preached. You had muttered barely two words to defend yourself before she had kicked you out for the night.

After she blew up on you, it was never the same. She began to nick and prod at every “flaw” she found in you. If you didn’t shut your alarm after the first ring, she called you deaf. If you didn’t answer to her belittling, you were a mute and a coward. If you didn’t have weekend plans to party, she labeled you a loser.

Presently, you rolled your eyes. You noted a clear shock in her expression because no matter how many times she had put you down, you had never fought back. For her information, you had changed.

“Good seeing you, too, Liah,” you replied, voice dripping with sarcasm. You turned to Sehun, barely, and nod your head once, before turning back to where you came from.

“Fuck. Shit,” you cursed under your breath. Your hands clenched at your sides, willing the tingles of alcohol to wash away in your blood.

A brief thought crossed your mind, hoping you hadn’t ruin the moment for Sehun, he was so nice to you, he doesn’t deserve to not get laid tonight because of you. But you suddenly remember the hell that Liah put you through, and you’re glad to have interrupted. More profanities left your lips. Your mind went haywire with thoughts that shouldn’t be in your head but are, like how Sehun looked so disarmingly handsome, and how unfair that girl who was so nasty to you is to be able to have someone of Sehun’s caliber.

You were so busy with your internal turmoil you hadn’t notice the grip on your shoulder until you were turned around, faced with the man plaguing your mind with unwanted thoughts.

“Are you leaving?” He asked, face expressionless with the slightest wash of anger.

You took two steps away from him. “Yes. Look, I’m really sorry, about interrupting. It was a mistake, honest.” You look side to side, up and down, everywhere to avoid staring at him smack dab in front of you. “I’ll see you around, Sehun. Thanks, for the drinks.” It took way more effort than necessary to look at him and smile like you meant it. Before he could stop you a second time, you bolted. You ignored the burning gaze behind you, ignored the buzzing alcohol in your system, and skittering of your breath.

So much for suppressing your worries. You might’ve unlocked a new case full of troubles.

[i-am-not-a-mouse]

Run Program: Communication.exe

Connor gets paid and Hank gets drunk

Read on Ao3

Hank has made many mistakes over the course of his life.

Sure, none of them got him killed - he’s still here, isn’t he? - but mistakes they were all the same.

He worked too much, no time for friends, just because he needed a purpose.

He drank like a bottomless pit just to wake up with the realization it would never be enough to escape.

He married a woman that he didn’t love just because she carried a child that he could love, only to have it taken away after six short years, again, by a stupid mistake.

The biggest problem is, he doesn’t fucking learn. His dumb old brain seems intent on doing the same damned thing over and over again.  ‘Let’s get attached!’ it says, and then it’s surprised when a necessary lifeline it’s constructed breaks away. Whether through death or purposeful abandonment, it doesn’t matter: He has the unfortunate tendency to build his existence upon things, fragile things, things that can leave and whither and die.

And Connor? Connor can’t die. But you know what he can do?

Leave.

“Thank you.” the bastard had said when they had handed him his first paycheck - on a reader, mostly symbolic. He had thanked them for basic human rights and Hank would have throttled him right then and there if he hadn’t been so unbearably sad all of a sudden.

It’s unfair of him. It also doesn’t make any sense - He wants Connor to be happy, to figure out who he is, to have a life apart from… apart from Hank. But then why does it hurt so much when there’s the actual opportunity for Connor to be free? To get a flat somewhere nice, buy actual food, have actual friends? Why does it scare him?

‘It’s a human thing’, is what he tries to tell himself, ‘feelings don’t have to make sense’

But is it? Or is it just Hank being stupid, like always?

In the end it always comes back to this:

Hank Anderson is a failure and he knows it. Swallows the certainty of the thought with every drop of scorching liquid down his throat, every night.

He can still taste the scotch on his lips this morning and he knows he reeks of it as well. The precinct is empty this early in the morning and the few colleagues that are actually in yet stopped frowning at him in distaste years ago, but now they just… don’t look.

He isn’t sure what he prefers.

There’s the file for a new case on his desk, nothing much, just theft with a side of property damage, but hey. What did he expect?

“Lieutenant?”

Oh. Yeah. Should’ve expected that.

Hank turns around in his chair and nearly hits his forehead on Connor’s plastic nose. The Android has the audacity to not even look spooked.

“Jeez, Connor, give a guy some space”, he grumbles when the initial surprise has worn off, but the slight tease doesn’t relax Connor’s expression by a fraction.

“Are you unwell, Hank?” he pries, face still uncomfortably close - undoubtedly checking for clues on Hank’s health “You arrived approximately five hours before your usual time. And your alcohol levels are unusually high this morning.”

Ah.

“Well, forgive me for wanting to celebrate your new riches!” Hank exclaims with false cheer. Connor picks up on it, of course he does.

Damn the interrogation function to hell.

“Hank, you didn’t return home yesterday. Surely, if you wanted to celebrate my accomplishments, you would’ve done so with me, not alone.”

“Who says I was alone?”

Connor only raises a perfect eyebrow. Fucker.

“Oh come on. You can’t have missed me that much.”, Hank tries to joke, but it just comes out desperate. A strange expression flickers over Connor’s face and his LED flashes yellow, as if the idea of missing Hank is new to him, an unfamiliar line of code.

Finally, the android heaves a very human sigh and sits down on the corner of the desk, putting some space between them.

“Sumo didn’t appreciate your absence.” he says and ah fuck, there comes the guilt. Hank winces.

“Sorry”, he tries, “I didn’t mean to - I… ugh, I’ll bring him some treats later.” A mistake, again. Because Connor just crosses his arms and frowns, looking at him as if he’s trying to read the code running through his mind. Only there is no code because Hank is human and stupid as all hell.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

“Look, Connor, I-” Hank tries, but it just trails off into nothing. He doesn’t even know what he was going to say. That he regrets being a bother? That it’s not fair to rely on Connor for the care-taking of his own fucking dog? That somehow, at some point, that perfect, goofy Android became a necessity to him?

After a minute of uncomfortable silence, he seems to take pity on him, for some reason.

“Hank… where were you all of last night? I was -”, the Android interrupts himself to brush the ever-curling strand of hair from his forehead and clear his throat “- I must admit, I was looking forward to celebrating my ‘new riches’ as you put it.”

Oh god. Did Connor just sit in the house all night, waiting to be allowed to celebrate? Hank opts for putting a hand on Connor’s knee and patting it gently.

“Oh, Connor. You don’t need me or my permission to have a party, you know that right? You could’ve gotten Markus to come over!”

His words are another mistake, apparently - Connor looks at him as if he’d suddenly started singing ‘pink fluffy unicorns’.

“I am fully aware that I don’t need your permission for anything anymore. Perhaps I didn’t phrase myself accurately: I was looking forward to have dinner with you. That’s how you celebrate, isn’t it?”

Oh damn. This android is gonna be the death of him.

Hank chuckles, but it sounds empty, even to him.

“Yeah, that’s how I celebrate but you can celebrate however you like! You don’t have to-”

Connor looks like he’s very done with him in that moment. Very, very done.

“Hank, stop making this so difficult. I am aware of what I am free to do, I simply chose to - I wanted to have dinner with you and you- you just- “

Stammering. Huh.

In the end, he sighs, massaging the skin around his LED with a grimace. Then suddenly, as if he came to a surprising conclusion, his eyes twitch and he straightens up, arms in parade rest.

“I apologize for taking up your time, Lieutenant”, he says, emotionless, expressionless, polite, “I understand my presence is hard to endure sometimes, I shall leave you to your work.”

And with that, he is gone.

What the hell?

Hours are longer when you’re waiting for something. For someone.

It feels like eons until Hank can leave without arousing suspicion, another millennium passes until he’s at his car on- wait. His car.

Why is his car still here?

He frowns, fiddling with the keys inside his pocket. Connor always takes his car, he says he likes driving himself, makes him feel… what did he say? Nostalgic. So did he walk home? Or, and the thought drops like lead into his chest, did he even go home?

‘Maybe he’s already left you’, his brain supplies, ‘You were a right dick to him.’

He's sure it's true, it must be true, but ... what the hell did he do to make him look so sad?

He pulls the car door open and it complies with a creak.

A sense of dread fills his mind when he bends to squeeze himself behind the steering wheel and sees the cup of coffee on the dashboard.

Connor .

When he takes a quick sip, he realizes it’s hazelnut and goddamn , what did he do to deserve this? He makes Connor feel sad and the bastard gets him his favorite coffee in return.

He’s nearly dreading what he’s going to find at home, and when he pulls up to his house, only stopping once on the way for some dog treats, he knows his gut was right.

The lawn is freshly mown, the little pathway neatly swept, it looks like there’s fresh flowers in the pots right next to the front door and nothing makes sense anymore.

Hank can’t believe this is even the same house - it looks like someone - Connor - spent the last eight solid hours cleaning every last fraction of this place. At least that answers that question. His key turns in a perfectly polished door that leads into a perfectly polished living room and what even isn’t perfectly polished in here?!

There’s a Chicken Feed box on the dinner table, a cold beer - non-alcoholic - accompanying it, Jazz chiming joyfully on his record player.

But Connor is nowhere to be seen.

He looks in the bathroom first, even though it would be incredibly unreasonable for Connor to be there. For some reason, imagining him in his bedroom of all places makes him feel … strange.

But of course, that’s where he is.

When Hank gently pushes the door open, Connor is standing with his back to him, rummaging through his clothes, sorting out wrinkles and folding socks .

For a few seconds, Hank just watches, transfixed. Then he whispers, trying not to frighten the Android: “Hey.”

Connor positively jumps and within the blink of an eye, he’s placed everything he was doing carefully within the closet and closed its door with quick hands.

When he turns around, there’s a tight smile on his tense face and his eyes are wide - scared .

“Hello, Lieutenant. W-welcome home.”, the Android stammers and stammering is so out of character for him that, for the first time in a while, Hank feels incredibly sober .

Jesus Christ what did he do?

“Hey. Connor, are you-” he takes a step towards him, but Connor flinches and Hank stops in his tracks.

“I apologize, Lieutenant.”, he forces out, “I will remove myself immediately, I didn’t manage to sort your wardrobe in time. Forgive me.” Hank can just stand there.

What. The hell. Is happening.

Connor seems to take his silence as disapproval, though, and - damn, is he shivering?

“Connor, what… I… Christ, you don’t have to clean my house! Why would you even think that?” But oh god, that was clearly another mistake because Connor twitches again and then fucking whimpers. Okay, okay, okay. You’re a cop, Hank, get it together.

“Are you - what’s going on with you? You-” he tries, softening his voice to what he would usually use on scared victims of assault, feeling like the biggest idiot in the universe, but Connor interrupts him - and his voice sounds like cut glass when he whispers:

“Please, Lieutenant, please just let me be useful.”

You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.

“Okay, Connor, I feel like we should just calm down here for a second and-”

But his hands are trembling.

“Please, please, please, please, please, I just need to be useful, that’s what I am, I’m useful, I can do things, please don’t make me go, please, Lieutenant, please-”

There is a point where enough is enough.

Hank takes three, four, five decisive steps towards Connor and pulls him against his chest, in a tight and (hopefully) reassuring embrace. The Android keeps babbling, pleading, begging against his chest for a few seconds, but then there’s just breathing.

Breathing and the quiet sounds of Connor’s little hiccups.

“There we go, Connor. It’s alright.”

To the rumble of his words, Connor’s arms come up around him and finally, they’re actually hugging. He’s missed this.

“Now come on and explain to me what the hell has got you so upset. What did I do?”

“N-nothing, Lieutenant.”

Aaand...that just won’t do. With a gentle shove, he gets Connor to back away a tiny bit, making sure he doesn’t take it as disapproval.

“How about we sit down somewhere and… talk.” God knows how much he hates talking. But what he hates much more? Mistakes. So they’re gonna talk, godammit, and if it kills him. Connor doesn’t seem to be on board, though, his back still rigid and looking every bit like the machine he decided not to be. The only tell are his fingers, pale and blue from the pressure of his knuckles, clutching desperately at Hank’s sleeves.

“Lieutenant, I-”

“Connor, it’s been Hank for months now. Please.”

Connor swallows, eyes darting through the room and that’s when Hank sees it: His LED is flashing red.

“H-hank, I am… very confused. Why do you - Why are you expressing… affection?”

Well.

“Clearly, I haven’t been doing the best job at that. Why wouldn’t I … ‘express affection’ … to you? I know I’m an asshole, but I l- I do like you, Connor.”

The Android’s face twitches and the LED changes to yellow. Processing.

But then it switches back to red. Does not compute, apparently.

“N-no, that’s…” Connor stammers “That doesn’t make any sense, there's conflicting information, I-”

“What the hell are you on about? When have I given you the impression that I don’t like you? I always want you around! All the time, in fact I- oh. Oh.” Hank’s frown dissolves into resigned regret. He closes his eyes.

Of course.

Of course it was his own stupid fucking fault. That’s just how it goes, isn’t it?

Connor’s eyes are molten chocolate in his pale face, so incredibly human yet somehow not, and how could Hank forget that? How could he forget that the Android is new to this business, so very, very new? How was he supposed to know?

God. If he could get his hands free from Connor’s grip, he’d slap himself.

“Connor. Did you think I didn’t want to see you yesterday? Or today?”

His gaze drops to the unusually clean floor with the quick flutter of perfect lashes.

“I couldn’t help but notice your sudden… disapproval of my presence once I was allowed to have my own money.”, the words are shaky, but somehow empty of real emotion all the same, “I apologize for taking up your space and time during the last few months, I understand I am to find my own living quarters as fast as possible.”

Hank’s heart skips a few beats only to start beating twice as fast in alarm. Judging by Connor’s sudden frown, he has noticed. How is he supposed to answer that? It all hurts .

He settles on “For fucks sake” as a start, because he’s still Hank and talking about emotions is positively exhausting. “You aren’t to do anything that you don’t want, okay? If you want to move out, then move out. If you don’t… then don’t.”

The Android shakes his head so fast that his perfectly placed hair gets in disarray.

“No, that’s not how it works, you don’t want me here but I swear I can be useful! I can prove to you how useful I am!”

Please don’t make me go.

Finally, Hanks dumb old brain gets with the program.

“Wait, you think you have to - what, prove yourself to be allowed to stay here? I-”

“It’s not about permission!”, Connor interrupts firmly, loudly, desperately, “It’s - I just - I just want you to … to want me here. But I can't make you like me if I'm not useful and then-”

“Of course I want you here, Idiot! You think I just drink myself into oblivion for fun?”, they’re running in circles and he really just ought to say it, just say it you stupid asshole, just say it, here goes nothing, “... I thought you were going to leave, okay?”

It’s quiet as Connor blinks. Tilts his head. Blinks again. Frowns.

“… what?”

Hank sighs and sends a quick prayer in his head, to a god he doesn’t believe in. Then he steps closer, just a tad, and frees a hand from Connor’s death grip to splay his fingers on the Android’s jaw. His thumb strokes soft patterns into the artificial skin until it relaxes slightly.

One step at a time.

“Connor, I…”, goddamn those eyes , “I want you to be free, okay? You have every right to be, to make your own decisions. There’s so much out there that isn’t… this.”, he inclines his head to mean this house, this life, “So much that you haven’t seen and you're an ambitious guy... I thought you’d want to move on as quickly as possible. And that… that made me sad, alright? I didn’t want to come home and find out you were already gone. Taken off with your first paycheck.”

Connor’s jaw is slack in his gentle grip, mouth slightly open, surprise evident in every part of his face.

“I…”, he whispers, “I bought us dinner.”

Um. What?

“… What?”

Connor huffs a quiet breath and loosens the grip on Hank’s arm. His touch is soft like a feather now, just a caress.

“I bought us dinner, yesterday.”, he says and it sounds like a revelation, “That’s what I did with my first paycheck, Hank. I just… bought us dinner.”

The guilt cuts deep, a red hot blade, right through the heart. And if that doesn’t hurt like a bitch .

His mind conjures up a vivid picture of Connor, sitting at the kitchen table with steaming hot burgers for the both of them, wanting to make use of his newest upgrade for close-to-human consumption, that little crooked smile slowly dropping with the hours of his waiting.

And Hank never even came home.

God, he’s such an asshole.

“Shit, Connor, I - I’m so sorry. I should have just… come home. I would’ve loved a burger yesterday.” And the Android was trying to treat him, shit. Since Connor moved in, burger is not on his everyday food list anymore, so to have him pick some up himself, on purpose, for him… let’s just say it’s nice.

To Hank’s relief, a tiny little smile curls the corners of Connor’s mouth. He looks weirdly content now, like a puppy that’s been pet. And slowly, round and round, his LED turns a calm blue.

“Your burger is still here, if you want it. I heated it up for you.” he admits sheepishly, his hand coming up to cup Hank’s bigger one against his face. His fingers are warm, human, and it takes every single piece of Hank’s resolve to not just pull him closer and - actually .

“… what about you, Connor?”

The little smile turns into a smirk.

“I’m still here, too.”

And what is he supposed to do about that besides kiss the bastard?

Nothing, that’s what.

It’s not even awkward and that should really tell him something. It just feels right. This isn’t… it’s not like he hasn’t thought about this, is what he’s saying and Connor’s lips on his own feel natural, it makes sense, like they’re supposed to be here, the both of them, Connor and Hank in this room in this house, two idiots with zero communication skills, finally getting over themselves and their stupid assumptions.

And it's so clearly not a mistake.

After a minute or so, Hank needs to breathe and puts a sliver of distance between them, only to open his eyes and immediately drown in the dark chocolate brown of Connor’s irises.

“Will you…”, Hank tries, clears his throat, and blushes when he can practically see Connor measure his stuttering heartbeat with a grin, “… Will you stay?”

The Android’s smile widens and he brushes a strand of hair out of Hank’s face to look him in the eyes. A subtle blue blush has spread on his cheekbones and across his nose. It’s quite possibly the cutest thing Hank has ever seen.

“Of course I will stay, Hank. As long as you want me.”

Aw hell.

“You’re gonna make an old man cry, Connor, Christ.”

But Connor just fucking giggles and pulls him by the hand out of his (their?) bedroom into the kitchen.

“Why do you emphasize your age so much, Lieutenant?”, he asks when he turns on the oven and gestures for Hank to help him heat the burgers, “I feel as if you carry it in shame, when you should be proud to have survived all that you have.”

“Oh come on, as if you aren’t the first to make fun of my age.”

Connor’s laughter chimes in sync with the blue flashes of his LED, Sumo barks his hello, and suddenly the world is warmer.

He never wanted Connor to become a necessity.

He wanted him to be a decision, a choice.

And in a way, he is.

Hank is going to choose him over and over again, every time.

And Connor will choose him right back.

Hope you liked it ♥

[gutterdreams]

tequila [billy head canon]

I’ve never written a headcanon before. My beautiful and loving wife @stevesharrlngtons encouraged me to try it and, like the good spouse I am, I take her advice.

Billy was an experienced drinker.

He couldn't even remember the first time he had a sip of alcohol.

It was just always around from the time he was small.

Strangely enough, even with his Dad being the strict asshole he was, Billy always got away with drinking underage.

So when you two would party together, he crushed three beers for every one cooler you sipped on.

He was pouty when you told him you couldn't show up to Haley Mill's spring break rager until later because you had a closing shift, but you promised to head straight to the cool girl's house once you were finished.

He practically leaped over the crowd of people and a couch when he finally saw you, kicking off your runners at the front door.

His lips were on yours like a fly to light, hands pulling you in from the small of your back.

Billy showed no hesitance in reaching down to give your ass in your black leggings a squeeze.

He was used to you being a little bit more gussied up, but he didn't mind the thin material giving him full access to your taunt skin and perfect ass that he was practically a slave for.

The five beers he had guzzelled like an animal were obvious when your tongues were wrestling.

“I'm going to have to catch up to you.”

That sounded dangerous.

You were a lightweight.

Billy could finish a whole twelve pack and walk in a straight line. Hell, he had operated the Camaro under the influence of more even if that was stupid.

He loved when you were drunk. You were a fun drunk.

Billy liked how you danced freely after a couple drinks.

You told off Carol in a way that was comical and sassy.

He really loved the way drunk you couldn't talk to him without pressing your chest against his, feeling your breasts under your top every time.

Drunk you also had a penchant for pulling him outside of a party for a fifteen minute “horizontal mambo” in the backseat of his car.

Still, drunk you had never even come close to catching up to him.

“Uh, bad idea.” Billy just shook his head with an amused expression. “I picked you up a couple coolers. They're in the fridge.” Okay, he had told Carol to pick them up, but he wasn't about to be caught carrying out fruity lady drinks.

“A couple coolers? I can handle my liquor.”

It was the start spring break, not a random Friday night.

“Yeah, sure, I'll remind you that when you're throwing up on the side of the road later.”

Challenge accepted.

“Come with me.” You hooked a finger over the collar of his shirt and led him into the kitchen.

“Haley, do you have shot glasses?”

The hostess of the party had her arms above her head and was dancing on her kitchen table with a cup of mostly vodka and a little cranberry juice in it.

It was a dumb question. Of course, she had shot glasses.

Nodding through a gulp, she pointed to the cupboard closest to you.

Letting go of Billy, you opened up the little wooden door and helped yourself to six glasses.

“What are you doing?” Billy laughed behind you, watching as you lined them all up and then looked over the selection of other people's liquor on the table.

“Holding my own.”

“You don't have to prove anything to me. I don't care that you're a lightweight.” Billy couldn't not tease you.

You pulled the bottle of tequila out from the center of the selection by it's neck.

Swiftly moving back to your shot glasses, stepping in front of your boyfriend, you missed the moment his eyes went from humoured to terrified.

Tequila was not your friend.

Tequila was no one's friend.

Tequila was the mean girl who just pretended to be your friend for a little while.

“Hey, hey, hey.” Billy reached over your head for the bottle as you unscrewed the red cap. “I put your strawberry drink thing in the fridge.”

It was your favourite flavor and he was proud of himself for remembering.

“Three for you...” You steadied your hand and carefully poured into each petite glass. “And three for me.”

“You're going to die.” Billy warned you, one arm around your waist while the other reached for the first shot glass.

“Hold on.” You weren't a heathen. You went back to the table that had become a mini dance floor and grabbed the salt shaker and a handful of cut up limes. This was a Haley Mills party. She was always prepared.

“You first.” You told him.

You tugged your shirt down slightly and sprinkled salt from the right side of your neck to your line of clevage before putting a lime wegde between your lips.

Once Billy had your thumbs up, he took his first shot and followed the salt trail, lingering with his tongue between your breasts. The cheers from fellow party goers only encouraged him to put on a trashier show. He took the lime from your mouth, spit it out, and kissed you in a way that suggested he could fit his tongue all the way into your stomach

He didn't waste any time when it was your turn.

His shirt came off along with his leather jacket and he leaned against the counter on his hands, letting you shake the salt to his belly button and even a little in his non-existant treasure trail.

After your second shot, you accepted that Billy was right.

He was clumsily finishing his third and your eyes were rolling backward in your head.

Your hips were moving from side to side without your control. You suddenly loved Madonna.

“Bottoms up.” Billy handed you your final shot with a half-smirk.

Like a champion, you finished and Billy threw his hands over his head while you were kissing him, celebrating with the others around.

“Okay, we need to go upstairs now.” Your mouth left his and you settled down on the soles of your feet.

“Huh?” Billy leaned in and checked, watching as you danced with your eyes closed for a second.

“I want to have all the sex with you and then I'm going to throw up.” Holding only your index finger between you both you informed him.

“What?” “Hey?” “You okay?” Billy took your hand and started leading you through the crowd to the washroom.

“No!” You screamed at his mullet, your eyes opening only to see him walking with purpose and then closing again. “Clothes off, then puke.” You told him.

He knocked impatiently on the bathroom door and then threw it open, barking at the couple making out against the sink to leave.

“Want me to stay?” He checked even though he would have rather waited outside the door.

Vomit was not his thing. It made him want to vomit ironically.

“No, I said clothes off first.” You stomped your feet like a little kid and reached behind him to slam the door. You pushed him by his bare chest against the door and kissed him madly, the taste of lime juice all over both your mouths still.

[nhlhoser]

On The Rocks - 11

Part 10      Masterlist

WARNING I DID NOT EDIT 

'So, who's jersey are you gonna wear?' - Steph

'No ones' I text back rolling my eyes. Once Auston joined the conversation yesterday, the bickering began, it wasn't just them either. Morgan and Matt joining in the argument on who's number I should be wearing, though I think Matt was just trying to rile up the others, he's quite good at that, must be the enforcer side.

'I don't even own a jersey, I am just gonna wear the hoodie I stole from my brother.' I added before she could make a rebuttal, I wasn't lying though I really do plan on wearing my brother's hoodie, which I was just pulling out of the dryer.

'Fine, but if you were to wear a jersey. Who's would it be?'

'Just not yours Mitch,'

'You're mean!'

'Wait I mean that's mean to Mitch because I am Steph and laugh at my boyfriend's pain,'

'Question still stands...'

Who's jersey would I wear? I would wear any to be real but I want to throw him off, going over who I met yesterday and who participated in the bickering session, I remember that James was the only one was just laugh and not trying to get me to wear their number.

'JVR' I snickered as I pressed send, that should mess him up. I yawn I did some shopping and also, I worked out this morning and I'm pretty beat, I don't even make it to my bed I end crashed on my couch. Just as I was falling asleep my phone dinged with a text. At first just thinking its Steph or Mitch as Steph I ignore it until it beeps again with a new message me. Lazily glancing at my phone I don't recognize the number.

'Hey, it's Morgan I got your number from Mitch'

'Can I ask a favor??'

I can't exactly say no.

'You can but doesn't mean I'll do it;P'

I regret how flirty I made that message sound as soon as I press send. Groaning I watch as the little dots show up meaning he's writing back.

'I slept wrong during my nap and my now my neck is stiff :(.....can you please help me?'

'Haha...yeah no problem! Come on up :)'

Smiling at my phone, I was expecting him to text back for my unit but I was shocked by a knock at more door seconds after I sent my text.

Slowing opening my door I'm greeted by Morgans sheepish smile that's missing a tooth. I quirk a brow with a slight smirk.

"What if I said no?" He shrugs.

"But you didn't, so I'm lucky," his demeanor very relax as I ushered him into my apartment. His eyes scanning his surrounds like he's trying to understand me more by apartment, you're home says a lot about who you are.

"I don't know what I was expecting but this wasn't it," Morgan motioning to the rather masculine look of my apartment.

"I get that often, my tastes are more masculine since growing up with my Dad and Brother. They have really influenced my taste and interests," I casually released personal information to the defensemen made almost stop in my traps on the way to getting my massage travel massage table from the laundry room. I don't know if he noticed the change in my posture or just didn't notice my lack of mention of a mother because he didn't press, which I'm glad.

I worked on Morgans kinked neck and back for about a half hour before I finished up with a gentle shoulder massage, careful to release built-up tension and ease the muscle to relax in my hands. When I worked for my hands lower I could feel the start a nasty knot forming which would be the cause of a lot of grief tomorrow, before doing anything to it, I had to make sure this was not an existing injury.

"have you hurt you back -here- before?" I carefully press my fingers into the flesh of his back, provoking a wince and grunt. "No, but now that you point it out it's quite sore," He test moving his back provoking the spot someone to get a feel, followed by another wince.

"Okay, well that means I can try to fix it, but move your right arm in like a chicken wing and raise it," I now stood in front of the shirtless hockey player and demonstrated what I meant and he mimicked it. I nod as he raises it, I note that movement catches before it could be fully stretched.

"So, the knot is affecting mobility so it's deep, It's gonna hurt," I teasing smack his bare shoulder as I returned to being behind and set my elbow on the spot and pressed, not giving him time to reject the idea of pain and pressed deep.

"AH!" I work my elbow in a clockwise motion until I can actually feel the knot release itself. Instantly Morgan slumps forward. "Wow, that was intense," He carefully moving his shoulder up and down in the chicken wings position again. I continue to massage the area to really relax the trouble spot away.

"That should be good," I pat his back, stepping away so he could stand raising to his 6' height only couple inches taller than me. A dorky grin graces his face as he's still working the chicken wing.

"You really do have magic hands," Morgan raised his upwards and stretched his back to his limit of flexible. "Thank you so much, Amelia," Morgan slipping his t-shirt of his head. "I have to go get ready, I'll see you the game," He embraces me in a hug so tight I have to tap out.

"Geez, Don't kill me now! go score a goal or stop someone from scoring," I usher him out of the apartment, with a huge grin but before I close the door

"You should totally wear my number," He winks as I shake my head closing the door.

"I am serious!" His voice muffled through the door followed by the steps down the hall to the elevator.

~

It was almost game time and Steph and I are sat along the ice beside the home penalty box and true to my word I really am wearing my brother's hoodie but also a TML beanie. Also wearing the same black ripped jeans from Saturday and converse.

The excitement in the building was high and got higher when the teams flooded the ice and then the excitement continued to grow as the puck dropped. I was buzzing in my seat, totally engrossed by the game, If Steph was talking to me I have no idea what she's saying. She whacks my shoulder making me flinch and face her regretfully taking my eyes off the play that going towards the leafs net.

"I asked if you wanted a beer or anything?" She rolled her eyes at me, I smiled sheepishly at her before agreeing to a beer and returning my attention to the game to see Martin make a hard hit to the right of me really close too.

I was a couple beer's deep and deeper into the game, It was tied 2-2 3 minutes left in the 3rd when Mitch drew a penalty and now they were on the powerplay. On the ice was Mitch Marner, Auston Matthews, William Nylander, James Van Riemsdyk and Morgan Rielly. The puck was passed behind the net and then to the blueliner where Moran wound up, shot and finished with a goal. The arena blowing up and the player on the ice jumping into each other's arms cheering each other on, when they separate I make eye contact as he pulls his arm into a chicken wing with a wink.

"I heard you worked your magic on dear Mo, Seems like you put some great magic into," Steph teased just as deep into beer as I was, It's safe to say we have a great buzz going on. "Yeah, He was outside my door before I even agreed,"I recall with a laugh not taking my eyes off the ice as the Leafs keep the puck away from the other team until the buzzer went.

I everyone was getting up, some still cheer as others went home. In this time someone's beer was knocked from their hands and all over my sitting form, instantly drenching down my face and the front of my hoodie.

"Hey, watch where you going!Look what you made me do!" A male voice yells behind me. I didn't wait to see what happened after because I was up and gone towards the washroom to get cleaned up. "I am gonna go get you something to change into," Steph said and was off into the crowds.

I cringed as I pull the beer-stained hoodie and shirt off and quickly slip on the long sleeve shirt Steph got for me, Pulling my hair into a bun on the top of my head. Slipping out of the stall, I am quick to work on the mess that is my makeup, wiping off the smudged mascara and eyeliner off with wet paper towel.

"That's my luck, man" I shrug as I turn to Steph ready to leave, the look on her face is suspicious but I can't figure out why she's smiling really big making me give her a concerning look "Well thanks again for the top, I'll pay you back," I pull the sleeve over my knuckles, the shirt a size too big, it's a leafs long sleeve shirt matching the jerseys.

"Don't worry I used Mitch's card," Steph shrugged as she leads the way to the family area to great the players, We arrive just as Mitch and Auston were coming out. Mitch's eyes scanning for his girlfriend who's to my left waving like a crazy person, alcohol still running through her system. When they finally get over to us Mitch makes a face as he hugs Steph.

"Ugh, what smells so much like beer?" He nose crinkled. When I open my mouth to speak, I am instantly cut off by Stephs rendition of the story, Super dramatic and a little over the top adding details here and there. "that sucks, So how was your first game?" Mitch beams.

"She was so into the game, I couldn't get a non-hockey related word out of her! We've created a monster!" Steph again speaking for me.

"that's not true," I defended myself, the blonde snapping her head to me "yeah, the only words were alcohol-related, which I consider still hockey," My cheeks flame at her words. They were true I was really into the game.

"So what I enjoyed myself!" I slugged an arm around the short girl pulling her into a side hug dispelling an awkwardness. Just then we were joined by More hockey players, such as Morgan, James, William and Kasperi Kapanen.

"You need to work your magic on me if it means I can score more," are the first words from Williams' mouth, making everyone laugh. "Well, don't you worry I start when you guys get back from your roadie," I pat his shoulder with fake sympathy. He frowns and starts to count the days on his fingers of how long what will be, making me giggle. I turn my attention to Kasperi who is standing back compared to everyone looking down looking rather left out.

"Hi, we haven't met, I am Amelia," I stick my hand out to the sad looking boy, his eyes spark as a smile sprees across his lips her grasps my hand shaking softly. "Kasperi but everyone calls me Kappy," His voice reminds me of Williams but a faint Finnish accent instead of Swedish.

It was after my exchange with Kappy that William continued to voice his displeasure, "Hey, that's not until Thursday! and we leave tonight to Carolina!" He pouts and mitch adds "Don't worry, I haven't been graced with her magic either," fake pouting both of us girls smacking him.

"Well, speaking of we should start going," I almost forgot Auston was here he was so quiet.

Just like that, we said our goodbyes, I got hugs from all the guys and even Steph because she's weird. We watch the guys make their way back to the change room so Steph could stare at Mitch's ass.

I may have looked at a couple of bums myself but that's my secret.

hockey players have really nice butts and legs.

especially if they're 6'3".

NEXT

[howsmyhairlook]

Insta Shame and Beer Regrets

•A pillow covered my face. I was laying on my stomach, my head ached and my entire mouth tasted of stale beer, sandpaper tongue, and poor decisions. My body ached in a way that was familiar though distantly so. I searched my memory with a groan only to recall nothing that could excuse away the pain. I groaned at the effort thinking took and slowly moved my leg out to the other side of the bed, hoping...no...praying to the 750 thread count Egytian cotton gods that there was not another body next to me. Finding it to be empty, and cold, I felt safe enough to push the pillow off my head for a damage assessment.

Sunlight assaulted my eyes and I hadn’t even opened them yet. Shielding my hand in front of my face and cracking just one eye open enough to confirm I did not have a bed companion, I pulled the blankets over my head to end the vicious attack on my retinas before reaching blindly for my phone on the bedside table. At least drunk Levi was good enough to not lose it, he only needed to learn that lesson once.

With a swipe of my thumb over the screen, it opened and yet, again, I was hit with a bright light.• Rude. Siri, turn down the brightness, in a hurry, will you?

•Siri was used to my ridiculous demands, and immediately took care of my tender eye needs. When the screen was dim enough to not leave me feeling as though I was sitting through Lasik surgery, I opened my Insta to check on the follower engagement from the night before.

Reviewing my stories from the beginning of the slides, I briefly took note of the copious amount of dashes across the top of the first photo and was immediately suspicious. I never posted that much for a paid gig. Paid promotion got the standard four to five stories tops, anything more than that was an extra fee and the Knights did not opt for the elite package when we signed the contract. Fortunately, as I lifted my thumb off the screen to let the stories play, I saw a series of carefully curated images. Perfect hair, a smile that was well practiced albeit slightly crooked, fashionable, designer scruff. Hell, I even managed to make the borrowed hockey jersey look cute, a tough feat to be sure.

Excellent product placement that was just pretentious enough followed my on brand selfies. Interaction stats for each of those stories was at the usual level I had come to expect from my followers. I was pleased with the job I had done for the Knights, their private box seats had been promoted to the standards of Mr.Mhmm during the beginning of the hockey game. I’d earned my fee. Normally that would be where my stories would end. This was not the case. Dread and trepidation seeped out of my suddenly sweaty pores.

More images continued to play one after the other and I watched myself in abject HORROR as I was holding a clear plastic cup with pale amber liquid inside.•

Oh yes. That would explain the bitter taste of cabbage water and regret. Beer, Levi...what were you thinking. You know better. It causes bloating! Though, one does not say no to cute bartenders who keep refilling your cup, nor to the hot waitress who was carrying around a tray of shots. And one most definitely did not say no when the entire group was celebrating each goal scored. This pansexual who was an alcohol lightweight didn’t stand a chance. But, the bloating! Nothing good ever comes from beer on tap, your twenties were a testament to that.

•As if my stomach knew it was being spoken of, a horrible rumble sounded as the organ lurched enough to shake up my intestines.• Oh my Gucci, please tell me I am not about to have the beer shits. This is NOT on my list of things to do today.

•Slow breathing with carefully plotted thoughts quickly had the surge of disgusting leaving my mind and my body followed suit shortly thereafter. The same could not be said for my stories. They kept rolling like the stone that chased Indy in Raiders of the Lost Ark. Young Harrison Ford. Mhmm. Who didn’t have a crush on him?• What in sweet salvation have I done?!

•My eyes widened as I watched in holy terror the remainder of the night’s events unfold in true Instagram limited time posting glory. I had decided to become a hockey commentator?! In what world did I know anything about hockey? None. And yet...there I was in full tipsy status doing just that. My voice echoed from the phone speaker against the sheet that was still pulled over my head, leaving it sounding harsh to my ears.

“Here we are in the final…”

This drunk Levi story moved to the next and then the next in rapid embarrassing succession, I couldn’t look away from my own trainwreck.

“...Inning? Quarter? Period! That’s it, friends there are three.” And because I must have thought my followers were stupid, I held up three fingers and pushed them toward the camera to further drive home my newly acquired hockey knowledge.

“Unless of course there is a tie in which case there’s a mini period called-”

“-What did you say it was called again, oh yes, Overtime! This is all so very exciting!”

“Make sure when you come see the Knights play you get tickets in these boxes!”

“They come with cute boys and girls for all your drinking needs.”

“CHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEERS, BITCHES!” Bright red liquid in the mini glass splashed all over my borrowed jersey as it dribbled down my chin when I attempted to throw back the shot while filming myself.

“Oh!!! There was a fight! It was hot, they took off their helmets. MHMM.”

“Game’s over, but that doesn’t mean the night is done. Oh NO. We are headed out. Find us on the strip if you can!”

I had been on the strip. With the rest of the people from the hockey game. I had one of those yard long street margaritas! OFF THE STREET, LIKE A TOURIST! I was not a tourist. And yet, the stories said otherwise.

We even danced with the weirdos who dressed up and wanted money for their pictures. The remainder of the night had been chronicled for my personal mortification and plastered all over my page. I might as well have had a sex tape released for what this would do to my carefully curated image. This messy, sloppy Levi was not on brand, at all. It was the anti-Levi brand. I was going to lose all my sponsorships. Bye Bye Bye future contracts. Not even JT could bring my sexy credibility back. I was too afraid to check how many followers I had lost in the onslaught of the night’s extravaganza.

Panic surged through my body as I threw off the blankets, sunlight be damned and rushed to the bathroom before shoving my head into the bowl of the toilet so I could throw up my entire existence. When my stomach was completely empty and all that remained was regret along with some bitter bile on my lips, I rinsed out my mouth and returned to the refuge of my bed.

I needed to face the damage I had done.• Please. Please. PLEASE, let it be minimal.

•I swiped open my phone again, and tapped through to my profile then blinked. Five times to make sure the sun hadn’t damaged my vision. My followers had surged over night. My DMs...loaded, so many I didn’t even know where to begin with that mess.• How in the fresh breath hell did I not destroy my career?!?

•A closer inspection of my engagement statistics revealed the brutal truth, sloppy letting loose Levi was far more liked than the carefully manicured Levi from earlier in the night, not that earlier in the night was a bust as far as stats went.

I was speechless and a little insulted.

People did love a trainwreck and I had been the conductor of my very own derailment. I didn’t know what to make of the numbers, they were still hurting my feelings. I chanced an apprehensive look at the DMs.

SO MANY STORY REPLIES.

The Knight’s account had re-posted some of my earlier posts. That was good, normal even, but as I scrolled further, a common theme seemed to be developing from the messages. The people wanted more of the fun Levi. Cry laughing Emojis were paired with the Heart Eyes emojis...and a few eggplant water squirt emojis were in the mix, too. That helped tend to my bruised ego some.•

I can work with this. All is not lost and shit has not covered the entire fan, yet. •I needed a follow up series of stories. Something that showed I hadn’t lost my marbles and wasn’t the type to drunk dial an ex in a moment of weakness. Social media wasn’t meant to be wielded the way I had last night, but if I were to seize the opportunity for what it was, I could capitalize and get my professional train back on the tracks. It would bookend the 24 hour period with a smooth save. I needed to pull out one of my trademark posts. A hidden gem find my followers always lived for. They were loyal when I recommended things on a non-sponsored post.

Time could not be wasted here, people were fickle and moved on faster than Britney shaved her head. I needed to get my ass out of the bed and back down to the strip...wait...no I would absolutely not be returning to the scene of my crimes. However, Fremont Street would be the perfect counterbalance to my night of WTF. If the masses wanted to see Tourist Levi doing touristy things, Fremont would do just that for them.

I could find some greasy food, something local, not franchise operated and show the people I could keep up with the demand I had inadvertently created while drunk. It was an excellent damage control plan. But first. I desperately needed a shower, because fuck if I was going to go out looking and smelling like a walk of shame, I had the image and standards of Mr. Mhmm to still maintain.•