#I hate being sober on a monday || bartender

[helluva-hazbins]

"How about I pour you a drink Husk? Why don't you take it easy and relax for a bit?" She seemed in decent spirits today! What a change!

Suspicious, he caste a look at her, resting bitchface expression unmoving for the split moment. "I got a bottle ready, don't need nothin' poured." But he will take a short break. He reaches for his preferred choice of booze for the day, it swishes and the liquid aganst hollowed glass can be heard before he puts it to his lips and tips it back along with his head. Being sober on a monday wasn't gonna happen.

[duckymcdoorknob]

Hi Ducky! Congratulations on 1K! That’s awesome! I would like to place an order for a small and large macchiato with light ice and cinnamon and java chips. The names for the order being Diluc and Venti.

YES

THATS ALL

NO FURTHER QUESTIONING

(Ducky gets back into writing? Real not fake?)

CW BELOW THE CUT: This do have tickles in it ngl.

♫ -ᥕᥲі𝗍ᥱr, ᥕᥲі𝗍ᥱr, ⍴ᥱrᥴ᥆ᥣᥲ𝗍᥆r- ☕️

The thoughts currently in Diluc’s head were indubitably illegal. Now, he’ll never act on them, mind you, but he’s thought of twelve ways to Sunday on how he’s gonna kill that bard.

Archons willing, he definitely did try his damndest to keep his composure for a good amount of time. But now? He can’t stand it anymore.

Today, the Anemo user had been acting seemingly normal today, chatting up a storm with Six-Fingered Jose about songs and such. But something deep within him told him that Venti was just minutes away from doing something that the bartender would regret.

—

He ought to be a fortune teller, Diluc thinks, as he grabs his forehead in disappointment.

—

It seemed that Venti was… sober today? There’s no chance; the bard never spends Fridays sober. Or Mondays… or Tuesdays… or-

You get the picture.

Diluc had an important task to do at closing: inventory counting. He hated it with every ounce of his being, but it was a required task for a tavern owner.

Unfortunately, the drunkard bard had not understood the seriousness in the red-haired male’s tone when he said “Get the hell out, we’re closed.”

So, currently, Diluc sat. Narrow-eyed glaring down the bard that was happily sipping at his first dandelion wine of the night.

“We’ve been through this, Venti. I’ve told you four times now that I have to count the inventory. Bar’s closed.” The Pyro user grumbled as he swept the floor around the stool the Anemo user was on.

“Aw, but Master Diluc, I just got here! Let’s have fun!” Venti whined in a faux-sadness.

The tavern owner pinched the bridge of his nose in annoyance as he huffed out a breath. “I will tell you once more. Leave mora on the counter, or put it on the tab you’ll never pay off, and leave. I’m closed.”

“Ah, you know me very well, Master Diluc,” the Anemo user chirped. “But the night’s still young! Let’s play a game!”

“What are we,” Diluc grumbled, “five years old?”

“Don’t act like such a wet blanket, Diluc!” The bard chirped in reply, smiling brightly.

“Fine, you wanna play games?” The red-haired male rolled up his sleeves and slowly closed in on his regular patron. “Let’s see if you can actually escape with the bottle you stole.”

Venti’s eyes widened.

“Don’t think I didn’t see you.” Diluc replied. “You have one goal: don’t let me catch you.”

And so, the two took off in a grand chase. Venti hurdled tables and ran circles around the tavern, coddling the bottle that he did indeed steal. With it tucked away safely in the waistband of his shorts, the Anemo user took off upstairs and hid.

Diluc was quick to follow, knowing exactly where Venti had gone. Though, he remembered playing this exact game with Kaeya when they were just boys.

With a quick survey of the upstairs, he spied a quarter inch of green sticking out of the broom closet.

‘His clothes got stuck in the door.’ He thought with a sigh and a smile. ‘Just like Kaeya… hiding decently, but giving yourself away accidentally.’

Diluc ran loudly past the door, then tiptoed back in front of it. The second it opened, he hid behind, waiting for Venti to run past him.

As soon as the flash of white and green appeared in his peripheral, the Pyro user stuck out his right arm and trapped the bard, holding him close to his body.

“WAAAH! Oh that was cheap!” Venti cried. “Now, put me down, and let’s play another round!” He finished his demand with a hopeful smile.

“I don’t think you realize the situation you’re in.” The red-haired man replied with a sinister smile. He looked down at the bard ensnared in his right arm, an evil idea crossing his mind.

Venti’s eyes widened, and he soon started to wiggle, kicking his feet frantically. “W-Wait! Diluc! Let’s-Let’s talk about th-ihihihihis! hyahahaha!”

Diluc had begun to wiggle the fingers of his free hand along the short male’s side. “There’s nothing to talk about, bard. I’ve explained the rules to you clearly. You’re the one choosing not to listen.”

“Wahahahait! Dihihihiluhuhuc! Dohohohont tihihihickle mehehe!” Venti whined through his giggling.

“Apologies, Venti, but this seems to be the only way to get my point across.” The red-haired male replied as a slight smile toyed at the corners of his lips. He turned his wrist and prodded at the bard’s ribs.

Venti lurched downward, slipping a bit in Diluc’s hold.“Ehehehaha! Wahahahait! Nohohoho!”

The tavern owner’s smile couldn’t help his widening smile. The annoying bard (unfortunately) reminded him of more and more memories he had shared with his baby brother. Kaeya had always been super ticklish, and Diluc always used this to his advantage.

Venti giggled helplessly as Diluc mindlessly tweaked at his ticklish ribs. The black and blue-haired male pushed up against the arm that was trapping him. However, whenever he made any traction, Diluc somehow managed to press against a sensitive spot and make him slump downward.

“Dihihihiluhuhuc, plehehehehease! Mohohove spohohohots!”

With a quirk of his brow, Venti’s “assailant” obliged to the demand. Unfortunately for the bard, the latter had opted to go for the most ticklish spot on his body.

Diluc’s hand worked under the corset that had worked itself loose and untucked. He pushed outward, causing it to untie and fall into his palm. Effortlessly catching it, he placed it neatly on the counter next to him. As he began to zero in on his target, Venti wiggled like never before.

“Okay no! I change my mind! You can- eep! You can go back to where you were- ah!” With every squeak, the bard twisted his body away from the threat of tickling fingers. But, the red-haired male was closing in quickly. If Venti could pray to himself, he would have done so tenfold.

Diluc’s fingers lowered onto Venti’s stomach and pinched around his belly button. The Anemo user’s eyes widened as squeaky laughter bubbled out of him. He wiggled incessantly and kicked his feet. “DIHIHIHILUHUHUC! NOHOHOHO! CMOHOHOHON!”

The winery owner smiled down at the giggly bard, not caring to lift his attack just yet. However, he would watch carefully to not go too far, the bard’s comfort at his top priority. Venti’s pink face was resting against the arm trapping him, his eyes squeezed shut in mirth.

“EHEHEAHA! OKAHAHAHAY! OKAHAHAY! IHIHIM SOHOHORRY-“ a snort echoes through the room, causing both parties to freeze in shock. The bard caught his breath before he made an attempt to make some sort of excuse.

“I- um-“

“Again.”

“What?”

“Do it again.”

“Do what- Diluc? What do you mean do it ag-ahAHAHAIN? DIHIHIHILUC!”

Well, so much for counting inventory tonight. Instead, the tavern’s owner had a much more noble task to do. Venti’s sweet, frantic laughter bounced from wall to wall as little snorts left him. As for Diluc… he can’t remember a time that he’s smiled this much.

—————♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎✞♡︎—————

[justkending]

Moral of the Story. Chapter Six.

Summary: Marrying too young out of highschool leads to a naive and failed marriage. Now 10 years later, word comes that the divorce was never actually completed. Bucky and Y/N have to come back together after all these years to settle what wasn’t all those years back. Passive attitudes, miscommunicated endings, and reminiscing of old loves and lives all comes back for the two.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Y/N

Word Count: 3700+

A/N:  Tags are closed for the rest of the series!! Please turn on your notifications if you want updates:) Also, this chapters a good one;)

Chapter Six:

That night, Y/N had plans with Wanda and Vis to go out and get a drink. However, when she called to double check, they asked if they could reschedule for another day. She told them that she was actually planning on staying a full week from Monday and that anytime that week would work for them. 

So she spent the afternoon hanging out with Chloe who came home in the late morning. They went shopping in the art district and caught up over coffee before going thrifting and heading back home before dinner. 

Once dinner was over, where Sherri, Thomas, Chloe, and Y/N hung out as a family, the parents went to bed early and Chloe went over to a friend's house to hang out again. Leaving Y/N by herself reading a book on the back porch. 

After reading the same page for the 10th time, she let out a huff from not being able to still her mind from the events of the morning. 

She looked over at the clock, seeing it was only 9:00. But in her head, it was six. She bit her thumb as she stared at the clock ticking away with each second. After about 14 tiks, she rolled her eyes before going upstairs and changing. 

Maybe a night in town by herself would be nice. She noticed there was a bar Wanda and Vis had mentioned that was next to where they planned to eat and figured she deserved a drink after today. 

So she put on a pair of nice jeans and a simple t-shirt with an old jean jacket that was twice her size from highschool. She fit into a little better now, but it was definitely still giant on her figure. Grabbing her dad’s car keys, she made her way to the mystery bar. 

______________

Upon arriving at the bar, she realized it was a Saturday night, so it was busier than she had planned. 

She found a seat at the bar and ordered a local beer before scanning out the place. 

It was nice. Not really a dive bar, but an actual nice bar. There was still a pool table and a little game spot to the side, but there were booths full of people eating and talking, and even a DJ with a small dance floor on the other side. 

It was a neat little place. Nothing special, but they seemed to know how to make a good drink given the reviews on the menu they proudly displayed from past customers. 

Y/N was going over the menu having finished her last drink pretty fast, but before she could even read the second option on the menu, a familiar voice sounded behind her. 

“Well, looky here. If it isn’t Mrs. Barnes herself.”

Y/N furrowed her eyebrows turning at the comment and instantly, her eyes widened. 

“James?”

“Hey, sweetheart. What are you doing here?” he sauntered to the empty barstool by her. She noticed a weird sway in his walk that helped her put two and two together that something was off with him. 

“I’m getting a drink,” she answered confused, lifting the beer bottle in her hand. 

“I thought you didn’t drink,” he slurred. “And a beer, hmm? I figured that if you ever did start drinking, it would be the fruity stuff,” he chuckled, leaning his head in his hand that was propped on the counter. 

She paid no mind to his thoughts and shot him a glare. “Are you drunk, James?”

He pouted his lips and shrugged with an ‘I don’t know, am I?’ look on his face. It quickly dropped and turned into a smirk as he readjusted in the seat. 

“You know, I hate that you call me James now,” he huffed, swiveling in his seat to face forward at the bar. 

“It is your name,” Y/N shook her head with a sigh. Lord this was going to be interesting. She looked around trying to find Steve or Sam even. “Are you here by yourself?”

“It’s only my name to people who don’t know me. My friends call me Bucky and you’re my friend,” he pouted again, but wasn’t looking at her. Only swirling the amber liquid in the glass tumbler she realized he had in hand now. 

“Friend’s a stretch,” she mumbled, taking a long swig of the new drink. He didn’t hear her though. She looked around a little harder and couldn’t find any sign of someone they knew. “Really. Are you here alone?”

“Yes, and so are you,” he noted, finally turning to her. 

“Yes, but I’m not plastered.”

“Give it some time and you could be,” he winked. 

She shook her head watching as he almost slipped from his chair. 

“Ja-”

“Please don’t call me that, doll. I don’t have it in me to hear you make me feel like a stranger,” he mumbled flagging down the bartender. “Can I get another one please?” He asked, raising his now empty glass. The bartender looked at him with a judging eye, and Y/N jumped in before he could possibly say yes. 

“A water. He’ll have water instead,” she smiled softly. “Please and thank you.”

“Got it,” the bartender nodded before going to get him a glass.

“That’s not what I asked for,” Bucky groaned. 

“We don’t always get our way, do we?” Y/N sighed, taking a long pull from her own drink. When she finally pulled away, almost emptying the glass, she noticed Bucky staring at her. “What? What are you looking at?” she said, slightly off put by the longing look he was giving her without even trying to hide it. 

He broke when he noticed her giving him a weirded outlook and stood up. 

“I need to go to the bathroom.”

Without a second for her to react, he stood up quickly and walked to the back where the restroom signs hung above.

The bartender came back a minute later and slid the glass of water across the counter in replacement to the empty tumbler that he took back. 

“You know that guy? Is he bugging you?” he asked, looking at Y/N who was now holding her head in her hands. 

“I do. He’s an old family friend,” she answered looking down. “Can I get another?” she asked, shaking the now empty beer bottle to the man with a small pleading smile. 

“I can get you something stronger you know? I feel like you may need it,” he said, and she noticed his tone had changed from just a server to something a little more flirty. His smirk giving away his intentions. 

I mean, he wasn’t a bad looking guy. He was a young, probably early 30 year old guy, who for sure made time in his schedule to go to the gym. He had a clean shave, showing his sharp features too. 

“Is it that obvious?” she chuckled, sending him back a small smirk of her own. 

“You look a little strung out,” he chuckled, going to get another drink made up without her having to say yes. 

“Saying it's been an eventful day, would be putting it lightly,” she sighed loudly. 

The guys nodded his head in understanding and smiled as he shook up a new concoction. He poured in impressively into a glass and placed a cherry and lime on top before handing it off to her. 

“On the house for that one then,” he winked. She smiled, adding a hint of flirtatious eye contact to the man, might as well. She was single… Kinda. “Hey, we make a mean batch of shredded chicken nachos too if you're hungry. I might be able to get you a discount.”

“Oh, I’m actually-,” she started, but was quickly interrupted.

“She’s vegetarian,” Bucky practically growled at the man behind the bar as he took his seat back. 

“Oh,” the guy said, taken aback. 

“He’s right, but thank you for the offer,” she smiled politely before sending Bucky a glare. Unfortunately he didn’t see it as he was sending a glare of his own to the man on the other side of the counter. 

Knowing Bucky would make matters worse, she decided to move on from the bartender for the moment. 

“I’m so sorry about him,” she scoffed, placing a hand on Bucky’s shoulder to bring his attention back to her and deter his evil stare from the innocent person. “I think I’m going to get him home actually.”

“I’m not going home yet,” Bucky spoke up, being ignored by the two anyway. 

“Probably a good idea,” the mystery bartender man nodded before looking back at Y/N with that flirty grin again. “Listen, I don’t know if you’re here very often, but I’ll be on shift tomorrow the same time if you wanted to drop by. Maybe I can get you some of our famous fries instead,” he winked, leaning more her direction. 

“That actually sounds nice,” she began.

“Well, I hate to break it to you sir, but she’s married,” Bucky said with a deep voice almost perfectly sober now. 

Y/N shot him wide eyes and saw that any form of drunkenness was hidden in that moment. He had become a big alpha male right there and was showing he was not one to mess with. Was he seriously jealous? Of a man offering her a drink and fries?

“James!” Y/N smacked his arm. 

“What? Am I wrong?” he responded, a hint of anger in his response to her as his eyes showed pain when he made eye contact with her finally. 

“Yes! Very!” Y/N responded. 

“On the contrary, I’m not,” he said, taking a step closer. 

The two were now chest to chest as he looked down at her and she looked up at him. The tension high and their eyes staring into the others soul. Anger and hurt in both their stances and stares. 

“I need to go help another customer,” the bartender spoke up awkwardly. 

Y/N broke from the stare down and sent him an apologetic look. Bucky was still looking at her as if his eyes were magnetically attached to her face. 

“I’m so sorry,” she paused looking for a name tag and seeing Bradley inscripted on a metal plate pinned to his shirt. “Bradley. I don’t know why,” she hissed looking at Bucky for a second who rolled his eyes at her before she turned back. “He’s acting this way.”

“It’s fine. You guys have a good night,” he waved off with a kind smile before sending Bucky a weary look and going back to his job. 

Y/N took a deep breath before turning to Bucky who was still inches from her and looking down at her. His face was stoic and grumpy. 

“How did you get here?” He didn’t answer her harsh tone. “James, how did you get here?” she said, this time leaving no room for silence as she gave him a death glare. 

“I drove,” he answered deeply. 

“Give me your keys,” she laid her hand out in front of him. 

“No.”

“Stop acting like a literal child and give me your keys.” The stubbornness between the two only grew as the other refused to break. “Fine, don’t give me your keys. I’m driving you home either way.”

“I’m not ready to go home,” he slurred some. His facade of trying to cover his drunkenness was fading as he eased up on trying to intimidate someone now. 

“Well, I say you are. Come on,” she rolled her eyes, taking his hand and dragging him to the door. 

“Hey!” he fought back, but she was walking too fast that his alcohol soaked brain was only focused on not tripping and couldn’t work on stopping himself. 

“God, you are a mess. Can’t do anything without fucking supervision,” she mumbled once they were outside.

“You have a mouth on you,” he said as he crossed his arms and waited for her to fish out the keys.

“Yeah, well, some of us have changed since college,” she retorted.

“I’ve changed,” he said softly. 

“You sure as hell aren’t acting like it,” she said through her teeth, frustrated in not finding the keys fast enough. 

“Do you only remember our bad moments? Is that all you allow yourself to think of?” he shot back, but she ignored him and opened his door before moving to the driver side.

The car ride to Bucky’s shared apartment with Steve was filled with tension. Bucky sitting like a scolded child on the side while Y/N was the parent furious with him for causing a scene in a public place. 

“That Bradley guy flirts with every girl that walks in there,” he mumbled about 5 minutes into the drive. He didn’t get a response. When he looked over to see if she had reacted at all, all he saw was a bitch face on her that was focused on the road ahead. “He’s kinda a dick from what I’ve heard the girls say about him that go in and out.”

“Are you there that often that you know the waitstaff's dating profiles?” she sassed. 

“No, I’m just saying from what I know, he doesn’t deserve you.” He had said the last part so softly, that if the car wasn’t as awkwardly quiet as it was, Y/N wouldn’t have been able to make it out.

She turned to look at him finally and saw him with his head propped against the glass of the window. He was avoiding eye contact and had opted to watching the city lights pass by for the rest of the car ride. 

Y/N wasn’t sure how to respond or if she even should. What was the point anyway? He wouldn’t remember any of this in the morning and she wasn’t supposed to care… At least that’s what she told herself. 

She was able to get to the apartment after Wanda sent his and Steve’s address thankfully. 

“Ok, we’re here,” Y/N parked in the front of the apartment. 

It was one of those buildings that looked like a house in a neighborhood where all of them were side by side going up 3 floors. But in their case, each floor was a different flat/apartment. It was updated and in the nicer part of town, so clearly he and Steve were well off. 

From what Wanda had said, Bucky was on the top floor and Steve was renting out the middle floor within the next month. So he had been crashing at Bucky’s until the lease for the current tenant was up and the space was open. 

“Thanks,” Bucky groaned. He had sobered up some from the drive, but considering how far gone he was earlier, he couldn’t be that much better. 

He opened the door and sloppily got out of the car almost tripping on the curb and stumbling to the steps.

Y/N groaned leaning forward and hitting her head on the steering wheel by her hands. 

“Don’t do it Y/N. Don’t do it,” she repeated, but when she looked back up, he was sitting on the middle of the steps with one hand rubbing his temple. “And you’re going to do it…”

She got out of the car and came to the front of him. Her anger had dissipated some and now she felt pity for the poor guy. 

“You good?” she asked, and he looked up with her in surprise. 

“I got a little dizzy,” he answered before going back massaging his head. 

“Need some help?” she sighed, offering her hand. 

He slowly raised his eyes to look at the gesture before looking at her.

“Why are you being nice? I’ve only been a drunken dick to you tonight,” he groaned, taking her hand anyway. “I’m surprised you didn’t dump me off and speed away.”

“Yeah, well. We’ve all been dicks at some point. Doesn’t mean we don’t deserve a helping hand here and there,” she nodded as they walked up the steps. “What button do I push?”

“Last one on the right,” Bucky said, putting his head back down as he stuffed his hands in his pockets and leaned on the door for support from the world spinning around him. 

She did as told, and the button let out a blunt ring as it called the floor above.

“Hello?” a voice replied. 

“Steve? It’s Y/N,” she answered. 

“Y/N? What are you doing here?” Steve asked in shock. 

“I’m delivering you your drunk best friend. Mind ringing me up?” she answered in a tired tone. 

“Uh, yeah, yeah! One sec.” The bell sounded, giving the two access to the unlocked door now. 

Bucky rolled away from it as Y/N opened it for them both and they started their way to the nice elevator off to the side by the stairs. 

Once the doors shut, Bucky looked over to Y/n who had been avoiding eye contact the entire time. He finally took in her presence and noticed she was wearing one of her favorite jean jackets from highschool. One that he had actually gifted to her. He chuckled a little at it as it still hung loosely on her even after all these years. 

“What are you laughing at?” she asked.

And when he met her eyes, he didn’t see the harsh bite back that he had received most of the evening. Instead, there was a small sense of amusement in her question. 

“Nothing, just the jacket,” he pointed. 

She looked down as if she forgot what she was wearing and then it registered. 

“Right, you gave me this for one of our anniversaries,” she chuckled some. He hadn’t heard a genuine laugh from her this entire day. Sure it was the smallest and diluted chuckle ever, but It sounded nice. 

“Still have the patch?” he asked. 

She pulled it away from her body some and looked in the breast pocket, nodding. 

When he had got it, it was nothing special but an older, worn out, and thrifted jean jacket. But to make it special, he found a little iron on patch of the world to put inside the pocket. He had told her that she always had the world in her pocket with the light that she was for it. She would and could do just about anything to make a room and this entire planet light up just by smiling. 

Bucky couldn’t help the goofy smile that came across his face knowing she didn’t rip it out in spite at some point in all these years. That jacket had a little more meaning to them then just being a shield from the brisk air. 

Once the elevator reached the floor, Y/N motioned Bucky out. 

“I don’t know where to go from here, so I hope you’re sober enough to point me the right direction,” she smirked playfully. 

Bucky returned it, not wanting to chance taking away the civil actions happening in the moment. 

“Right,” he agreed, coming out and making his way down the new hall. “Steve,” he shouted loudly. Lucky for them, they had the whole floor to themselves. 

Steve’s head poked out of the door less than a second later. 

“Hey,” he said with a confused face that was attempting to be covered by a kind smile. 

“I’m going to go inside before I made more of a fool of myself,” Bucky mumbled, pushing past Steve who moved to the outside of the hall. “Thanks for bringing me back, Y/N,” he said with a tight embarrassed smile. “Sorry for being a dick again.”

Not that Y/N would have said anything back, but even if she had, he stalked away with his head low and disappeared into the apartment before she would have a chance. 

“Do I want to know?” Steve sighed. 

“Uh, even I’m not too sure what went on tonight,” Y/N responded, putting her hand in the jacket pockets and rocking on her feet. 

“Do I need to apologize for his actions?” Steve chuckled, looking down at her bashfully. 

“He’s a big boy Stevie, he can take responsibilities for his actions,” Y/N chuckled back. 

“Right. You would think he would act like the grown man that he is, but it looks as though we were both thrown for a loop tonight.”

“Guess so.” 

“Hey, Wanda told me you’re here for the week now. Your travel plans changed. Are the rumors true?” Steve asked, moving the subject away from the awkward one. 

“Uh, yeah. I was going to text you tomorrow morning, but looks like I was beat to the punch.”

“Well, we’ll all have to hang out soon then. It’s been too long,” he winked. The two gave each other a quick hug, but Steve didn’t let go and looked down at her. “How are you doing? Clearly the other part of this equation isn’t doing too hot,” he noted, looking in the open apartment door before back at her. 

“Seems we are handling the second part of this divorce a little different than the other, but I can’t say it’s been fun,” she responded, following his eyeline. “Uh, listen. I hate to see you for like two seconds after all this time and split, but I’m kinda beat from the day.”

Steve pulled away and patted her back nodding. 

“No, no. I completely understand. I know from experience, drunk Bucky isn't an easy one to take care of. Plus... Everything else on top of that.”

“Yeah...”

“You go ahead and head home. I’ll call you later to set up a time for the team to meet and catch up. Sound good?”

“Sounds like a plan, Cap,” she winked. 

He rolled his eyes with a smile before waving her off. “Want me to walk you down?”

“Nah, I parked right out front. I should be fine,” she shook her head as she headed back for the elevators. “Um, his car is still at the bar by the way. You may need to go pick it up tomorrow. I didn’t want him driving home, given his state.”

“Thank you for that. I’m sorry again,” Steve grimaced. 

“Don’t apologize, just uh… Just get him some advil and lots of water. I’ll see you later.”

“Will do. Bye, Everest!” he bantered back with her own nickname. 

“God, haven’t heard that one in years,” she laughed before the elevator doors shut. 

With a heavy sigh and lots of thoughts on her mind, the car ride home felt like it never happened. 

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My Lovelies forever:

@natura1phenomenon​ @lauravicente​ @kakakatey​ @traceyaudette​ @notyourtypicalrose​  @laneygthememequeen​ @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce​ @sandlee44​ @thorne93​ @thefaithfulwriter​ @essie1876​ @greyeyedsmile14​ @capsiclehan​  @xostephanie​ @averyrogers83​ @awesomenursingstudent​ @gh0stgurl​ @cs-please​ @carls1022​ @jjlevin​ @rainbowkisses31​ @anise-d-castle6​ @deannotmoose​ @their-bibliophile​ @kitkatd7​ @willowbleedsonpaper​ @mariaenchanted​ @snffbeebee​ @couldabeenamermaid​ @rebekahdawkins​ @alyispunk​ @princess-annna

Bucky Barnes Tags:

@chloe-skywalker​ @charmedbysarge​ @jbarness​ @bellamy-barnes​ @katiaw2​ @aikeia​ @stopjustlovethemcu​

[ellus986]

Hold me closer part 2

Frank Castle x Karen Page

Warning : speaking anout death, shooting, blood and all kind of this thing.

You sit in the car next to Frank watching the trees go by, quietly humming under your nose to the music on the radio. It feels insane how easy you trust him, you only have him back for 2 months now, and when he picked you up on the office’s block you just jumped in, even you didn’t know where he got the car or where he wants to go.

Foggy and Matt just steped out of the building when you sat in, you saw Nelson’s face, he was suprised even he couldn’t see Franks face from behind with his hat on. You still didn’t told them, and have no planes on doing it. You valued your relationship more than ruining it with them sniffing around.

He stops at his old house, what is burned down. You just stare at it last time you have been here all the walls were white, and still perfectly standing. “It was me...”

“What was you?”

“I burned it down...”

“When?” You only can wishper this.

“When you first thought I was dead...” he mutters and you say nothing. “You don’t ask me why?”

“Do you want me to?”

“I don’t know, I guess that’s why we are here...”

“Ooh you try to scare me off, does not work...”

“No,no,no,no... I just wanted to...”

“Let me in?” You finish his sentence.

“Yeah...”

“Do I need to say something?” You wishper kissing his cheek. “Do you need me to say something? I get why you did it, if my dad wouldn’t be alive my childhood home most likely wouldn’t standing... I... I wasn’t there since I left home. When mom died it was hell, but when we crashed it killed me too, some part of me just died with him... I was a shitface... God if I was sober he would be alive, but no I needed to get high...”

“Hey, Hey, Hey, we came here to speak about me being a shitface not you!” He comes in and you laugh.

“Sometimes I wonder which one of us is the more sinester...”

“Defenetly me!”

“I’m not sure, my dark angel!” You kiss him with a half smile on your face.

———————————————

“What about a drink?” Ask Nelson.

“I’m in!” Comes from Matt.

“I don’t know...”

“Come on Karen, in the last two months you always have something else to do.”

“Okay, I’m in.”

You walk down on the dark street with them, sending a text to Frank: “out drinking, don’t wait for me.” You are not sure he is even at home, but still feel like it is better to write to him.

“Who do you texting?” Nudges Foggy.

“You don’t need to know...” you giggle. It is funny now, that all more than two month they try to find out who keeps you on the edge.

“I hope someday we meet him.” Mumbles Matt.

“Oh I hope not!” You laugh head falling back, as it is so absurd.

“Why?”

“Because you wouldn’t like eachother!” You giggle.

“How do you know that?” Asks Matt.

“Oh bielive me, I know!”

“Atleast you confesed, you have someone!” Comes from Foggy who just hugs your shoulder.

“Yes I have someone!” You say it out loud for the first time.

“I’m happy for you, who ever he is!” Foggy kisses your cheek.

You head to a club instead of a bar because Marci wanted to dance, so you meet her up there. It is a really shady club, but as it is friday night and she knows the bouncer it is handy. You have some drinks speeking about how instant coffee may saves your asses.

Marci is about to pull you into the dancefloor when you hear someone yell “He is here!”

“Fuck, the punisher...” mutters the bartender and it just slips out of your mounth.

“Fuck Frank!”

“You knew it is him!” Matt steps closer with a tense body, you can’t deny it, ofcourse you knew it is him.

You have no time to answer, as he steps out of one of the back doors near to the four of you. Someone shoots from behind you and as the bullet narrows near to you a scream leaves your mouth. That is the minute Frank realises you are there, just as he shoots the one who yelled.

“Karen!” He changes his rute, but it is the worst he could do, the shooter runs for you and grabs you from behind as it is obvious you are worth a lot. Frank slows down and Matt is waiting for the right moment, to grab you, but he has the bartender between the two of you. “Don’t act stupidly...” Frank holds his hands up as slowly walking in your way, the club starts to empty out, people are screaming.

“Marci, Foggy go please!” You wishper.

“We won’t...”

“I’m fine, please...” you know you won’t die, you had riskier situations before, and now you had Frank and Matt at the same place on the same side. Marci grabs Foggy’s hand and they finally run out. You stand there facing Frank with a gun pointed at your head. Again.

“Look dick head!” Matt gets into action, and it gets your keepers attention enough so Frank can grab his gun and shoot. His face is now unrecognizeable, and you covered in blood as he falls to the floor lifeless . You get on your knees, looking into nothing, you only realise that Frank runned to you when he holds you close.

“Are you alright?” He cups your face and you slightly nod. “I don’t want to see you like this anymore.”

“I ha...hate to just... just look at you with... all those guns pointed at me...” you sutter still in shook.

“What guns? Let her go!” You hear Matt but he sounds so far away.

“Thank you Red, really, but it is none of your business!” You close your eyes, and just listen to Franks heartbeat. “Karen, look at me, don’t you dear to fall asleep right now!”

“But it is so cosy”

“Look at me, look at me!” You look up to his deep voice. “Everything is alright, I take you home, but please stay up for me, love!” He gives you a soft kiss, and you lean into it.

You hear Matt gasps. “Home... you know where she lives?”

“He lives with me Matt” you wishper and your chest is way lighter now.

“What are you talking about? Are you sure not the shook is speaking from you?”

“Oh Red...” you hear how diasapointed Frank is, as are you.

“No Matt, I meant it when I said you two wouldn’t like eachother, I already know it as a fact...” your voice is weak, you still can’t process it that the bartender’s face just got all over yours. “You shoot him in the face...” you don’t care about Matt anymore. “I... get... I think... I have some of his brain on my cheek...” you just volmit.

“Look at me, I’m here, now noone can hurt you!” He holds you strong, his voice is more huskier than you ever heard.

“I just don’t want to see you again thinking I’m gonna die infort of you, I know until you are here I’m safe, it wasn’t the first time...”

“Than what was the first time? Huh?” Walks up and down Matt.

“Shut up Red!” Says Frank before you would hear the sirens. “Can you walk, love? We need to get away now...” you nod but as he helps you up and you try to walk you feel like your legs are from gello. “Come here!” He picks you up like you weight nothing and you put your hands around his neck.

You hear Matts hard steps behind you, after you get out of the building and walk into the first alley you hear Foggy. “Is she okay?”

“She will be fine, just need time, and a good shower...” his husky voice vibrats in his chest.

“A bath sounds better...” you mutter not opening your eyes.

“Anything you wish, love, just stay awake until we get home!”

“Until you get home?” You hear Nelson’s confusion.

“I told you, you wouldn’t like eachother...”

“Fuck... Karen?”

“What?”

“Are you for real?”

“Yes, I’m, you can’t decide who I love!” Ooh wait what? You said the L word. You feel Franks lips on your forhead.

“Go up there, before the cops get here!” Matt gives the order. For a while he is leading all five of you.

“Thank you for helping me, Red. You really saved her life, but I know the way home from here!”

“I don’t feel comfotable letting you go with her...”

“Guys, I’m safe, safer then ever...” you open your eyes and look at them. “I did not wanted to tell you like this, and I don’t want to loose you, but I understand if you need time, I will be in, on monday and we can talk about it, but I really, really need that bath now...” you put your head back to Frank’s chest, listening how fast his heart beats.

“Okay, you are right, you need to rest after this, all of us. Just stay safe!” Comes from Foggy.

“I will... and please all of you too!” You wishper before Frank jumps off the roof without saying goodbye. He really knows where to go, and jumps off climbs up with no problem even he holds you in his arms. “I didn’t find the perfect moment I was waiting for, but you need to know I love you too!” He wishpers into your forhead. Your heart stops for a moment and than it almost explodes.

“You don’t need to say this because what I told Franklin!” You can’t open your eyes.

“Once you said to me, I never lie to you, this is still true!”

You can’t answer, not like you haven’t felt the same, but because you couldn’t get your thoughts together. “Frank are you freezing too?” You shiver.

“Hold on Karen, we are just one block away, and you get a hot enough bath that could burn down your skin.” His smoky deep voice is what keeps you even awake.

“That sound perfect...” you mumble slowly noding.

When you get into the apartment Frank starts to undress you, and sits you in the bathtub. The hot water runs on your body, it feels so good, you don’t want to open your eyes and when you do, you shiver again.

“You want me to make it hotter?”

“No... it’s...It’s just the blood and who knows what...” you mumble.

“Close your eyes, love, and when you open it next time it will be all gone, and you will be sitting in a bath full of boiling hot water!” His deep voice makes you relax a little bit, and you do as he told. You feel him putting shampoo on your hair, and washing every tiny bit of your body, to make sure you have no blood residue on it.

Before he puts the plug in, you wishper. “Would you mind to join me?”

“Anything that makes you feel better...”

“Please...” you don’t open your eyes. You feel him showering down the blood he has on before sitting behind you as the water fills up the bathtub.

To be countinued...

My sweetperms: @simply-sams-things

Story tags: @kastlenetwork @keyworld1101

If you wanna be taged or be removed let me know.

[endof-theline]

Day 21- Tropetember: Office AU

Day 21 of super early Tropetember with Office AU. Bucky hates his job, but he also hates the man next door and nothing can change that. (I diverted from the prompt quite a bit)

On Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/32729431

Bucky hated the guy in the next room over, sure they had never met but that didn’t stop Bucky’s hatred for the man. Bucky’s office was usually way too hot so he had the A/C on so he wouldn’t melt into a puddle, but the guy in the next room shared control of the unit and apparently wanted Bucky to be a puddle because he was always turning it off or turning the heating up a ton.

Next was this guy’s seemingly forever cold, if their supervisors ever heard this guy Bucky was sure that they would send him home because all Bucky heard all day, every day, was the constant coughing through their shared wall.

If that wasn’t enough, between coughs the guy was always humming along to songs that weren’t playing. Sometimes the guy would start to tap on the desk in time with his loud humming and Bucky wanted to scream in frustration that he couldn’t just sit in silence and pray the day would go faster.

Bucky hated being a jerk, but he hated this stupid job more. It was meant to be a temporary office job until he found something better, but now he’s been stuck here for two years without any change or any luck in finding a new place. Natasha, Bucky’s best friend, keeps telling him that he probably wouldn’t hate the guy next door if he didn’t hate his job so much, but she was wrong. Bucky hated his job, but he also hated the man next door and nothing could change that.

“For the love of god, please no one see me” Bucky hissed under his breath as he snuck towards his office door, he had been almost an hour late to his desk from going out to a bar with Natasha and her boyfriend, Sam, last night and getting way too drunk for a Monday night. He was almost at his door when a short, blonde blur zipped out of the door in front of him and ran straight into Bucky’s chest, knocking the coffee out of his hands but luckily not over himself or the blur that was now laying on the ground.

In his defense, he was hungover and his only light at the end of the tunnel was staining the carpet “Watch where you’re going asshole!” Bucky hissed through his teeth as he grabbed the paper cup off the ground and tossed it in the bin beside them, the blur scoffed up at him.

“Well if you weren’t coming in late, I wouldn’t have run into you, dumbass” He snarked before using the wall to help him stand up, Bucky glared and realised quite how far down he had to look to meet the other man’s furious blue eyes.

Now if Bucky had been in the right mind, maybe he would have said sorry or taken in the small man’s appearance and tried to flirt with him instead, but Bucky wasn’t. Bucky was pissed off and the small, blonde man was now his number one enemy.

“Don’t pin this on me, it’s not like I’m the tiny one. Are you blind as well as stupid?” Bucky grumbled before barging past, knowing that he knocked the man sideways and not caring as he almost-slammed the door shut. He flopped into the chair and rubbed his pounding temples, his brain feeling like it was going to explode any second now. If Bucky had taken a second to use said brain he might have realised that his new enemy was the man he had hated already, or maybe he would have seen the hurt expression on his face before he stormed off… but he didn’t and now he had to sit through his Tuesday with a killer hangover, no coffee and a bad attitude.

The next time Bucky saw Natasha and Sam was on that same week’s Friday, back at a bar but a lot more casually than the celebratory drinks they had on Monday since Sam had got a promotion that day when they happened to meet up. This was their usual Friday night drinking, and Natasha had given Bucky the head’s up that Sam was bringing a friend so he had to be on his best behaviour tonight.

Bucky waltzed into their usual joint and spotted Natasha and Sam at a booth immediately, though it took until he was at the booth to see Sam’s friend. Bucky and the man stared at each other for a moment before Bucky sneered at him, turning his comment to Sam however.

“Sam, I can’t believe your friends with this asshole” Bucky snorted as he threw his hand towards the man who slid out the booth, and puffed out his chest as if to intimidate Bucky despite being a foot shorter than him.

“I’m not the one who threw a tantrum over spilt coffee like an overgrown child” The blonde snapped back before Sam tugged him back into the booth and Natasha stepped in front of Bucky to push him away, knowing full well that Bucky wouldn’t lay a finger on her.

“How do you know him and what’s your problem?” Natasha hissed under her breath, her eyes were furious even if an outsider wouldn’t see anything wrong between the pair.

“He works in my office, he ran into me on Tuesday after we had been drinking the night before and was a complete dickhead” Bucky whispered back, his whole body had tensed up for a fight despite knowing that if he punched this guy he might break a bone since he looked so frail “Look I’m not in the mood to pick a fight with a guy who looks like he’d break a rib from a strong breeze, I’m outta here. Have a nice night, Tasha”

Bucky ducked her hand and stormed off to the bar, he had wasted money on getting a cab here so he might as well get a drink before he leaves. He knew Natasha well enough to know she would leave him to sulk if that’s what he wanted to do, and Natasha knew better than to send Sam over to talk to him either so he was safe in the knowledge that he would be left alone to drink as much whiskey as he wanted too.

Bucky wasn’t exactly sure how much he had drunk, but he knew he was still getting towards the wrong kind of tipsy and swiftly heading towards being drunk so when the bartender offered to refill his glass, Bucky shook his head and paid his tab instead. As much as Bucky would have enjoyed spending his evening with his friends, he still liked having time to just drink and not have to worry about talking to other people or trying to field questions about his life and pretend that everything was fine.

It was as he was getting up to leave that a small hand pushed him back into his seat and bright blue eyes glared at him, making Bucky smile lopsidedly as Sam’s friend blocked him from standing up again.

“Look whatever problem you have with me, you shouldn’t take it out on Sam, I don’t care if you hate my guts but Sam doesn’t deserve-” The guy ranted at him before Bucky laughed in his face, he didn’t really mean too but after the number of drinks Bucky had consumed he didn’t really have the filter he usually had a tight grip on.

“I don’t have an issue with Sam, if he has an issue with me then he can tell me himself without his little guard dog. I was celebrating with him on Monday over his promotion, why the fuck d’you think I have a problem with him” Bucky glared back but he was sure it didn’t look as angry as the man in front of him glare did, Bucky kept glaring for a moment before he spotted Natasha’s bright red hair and found his eyes following her instead.

“Do you like Natasha? Is that what it is?” The man accused him and Bucky just laughed in his face again as he shook his head with a grin.

“I’m gay, if anything you’re my type!” Bucky snorted before squeaking as he suddenly had a lap of angry blonde kissing him passionately, the blonde was tugging at Bucky’s hair to try and pull him deeper into the kiss which definitely worked as Bucky groaned and grabbed Steve’s hips.

“I knew there had to be a reason you’re an ass” The man panted against his lips once they pulled apart, his blue eyes burning into Bucky’s “You were going to be too perfect if you were nice”

“I can be nice if you take me home” Bucky purred in his ear, making the pale man in his lap go scarlett even as he shook his head and carefully slid back out of Bucky’s tight grasp.

“Find me at work on Monday, if you still want to be nice then tell me in the office” He said confidently before leaving Bucky alone and wanting, he had sobered up in seconds of that powerful kiss and immediately knew his mission come Monday morning.

On that Monday morning, Bucky made sure he was on time, made sure he had cleaned up and put in effort to look good. He had managed to get a name from Natasha so he now knew that man's name was Steve Rogers and Bucky couldn't help thinking how good that name rolling off his tongue was.

He wandered down the hall to his office, knowing Steve must work in one nearby due to the incident last week. Once Bucky realised exactly what office Steve was sat in, he paused and stared at the man who had a blanket over his lap and Bucky could spot an inhaler on his desk as well which explained two things about their shared wall.

Knowing what he does now, Bucky shook his head and knocked on the office door with a grin on his face. He hung back so Steve had to open the door and poke his head out to actually see Bucky, and Bucky was glad he did as he saw the way Steve's eyes lit up once he spotted him.

"Hi, I wasn't sure you'd come find me" Steve smiled slightly and when Bucky shifted to be further into Steve's space with a grin, the blonde blushed deeply.

"Haven't been able to get you outta my head, be a real idiot not to find you" Bucky drawled and saw the way Steve's ears went pink as he looked up to Bucky with a smile on his face.

"Well you are a dumbass" Steve teased before grabbing Bucky's tie and tugging him into his office, barely managing to shut the door behind them before he pulled Bucky down by his tie and kissed him hard "I wanna be in your head all day"

"With a kiss like that, you're gonna be in my head forever" Bucky groaned as he held Steve's hips, feeling quite how tiny Steve was compared to him and finding out that he loved it.

"Well then, waiting until the end of the day will get you used to it" Steve smirked before kissing Bucky again and sitting down at his desk while Bucky leant against his wall and panted for a moment, he pressed a kiss to the top of Steve's head before leaving and sitting down in his own office.

It wasn't long before Bucky started to hear Steve humming away happily, and for once in the two years he had worked next to Steve he smiled at the noise, knowing that he had made him that happy and knowing that he was going to keep being the reason Steve was this happy for as long as the feisty man allowed him.

[ladyreapermc]

Fic: Sympathy for the Devil (John Wick x Reader) 1/4

Summary: Your best friend is getting married and you’re very excited until you find out that your ex is coming to the wedding. After a night of too much drinking and without a date for the big day, you summon a demon to make a deal.

Author’s notes: So this one was loosely inspired by this prompt and it was supposed to be an one-shot but it started to grow, became a small series and it might turn into an universe? Crazy? I know! But I’m in love with the idea of demon!John and how that would change the entire John Wick universe. But that’s a story for another day. For now, enjoy this first chapter. Feedback and suggestions are always welcomed!

Wordcount: 2874

Warnings: mentions of alcohol and inebriation; brief mention of blood

It was routine on Monday for your precinct to have squad meetings every morning. It was mostly a moment to update the team on open cases and for your Captain to distribute new assignments. It usually took a good part of the morning, so you didn’t have a chance to check your phone, but when you finally did, there were five missing calls from your best friend Claire, along with several messages asking you (in all caps) to call her immediately.

The sight of it set your senses on high alert as you looked for a quiet place to call her back. Claire was getting married in a week. If she was so desperate to talk to you there could only mean some kind of emergency.

“You haven’t RSVP for my wedding yet, right?” it was the first words out of Claire’s mouth as soon as the call connected.

“Are you serious? That’s why you were calling? I’m your maid of honor. Of course, I’m coming!” You rolled your eyes even if she couldn’t see you. “I’ll do it right now if it’s that important.”

“No! wait!” Claire shouted and you pull your phone away from your ear at the shrill tone of her voice. “You have to bring a date. Ryan’s coming.”

“What?” Your heart sped up and your breath caught in your throat. “Ryan, like my ex, Ryan? What the hell Claire!”

“It wasn’t me!” She hurried to say. “Apparently Dave ran into him and invited him since we have all these empty seats we already paid for. I’m so sorry.”

You dropped on the nearest chair, rubbing your temple. This could not be happening. You were not ready to face Ryan. You didn’t think you would ever be to be. Not after everything that happened between the two of you.

“How the hell am I gonna find a date in less than a week?” you said with a sigh.

Funny how you always believed to be so empowered but the thought of meeting your ex by yourself on a wedding made dread and panic clench your insides. You could almost picture the grimace in Claire’s face just through her silence. You two have been friends since kindergarten, you knew her like the back of your hand.

“What about that guy you’ve been seeing?” she asked, and it was your turn to wince. Teddy was pretty fun, but more of a fuck buddy than a man you’d want to bring to your best friend’s wedding.

“I’ll figure something out,” you said with another sigh before saying your goodbyes and pocketing your phone just as your partner Jake called you over. You two had a witness to interview.

Work helped to get your mind off the situation, but as soon as you walked in your apartment, dropping your keys, badge and gun on the side table, the entire debacle returned to your mind and you flopped on the couch, browsing your contacts because facing Ryan alone was one of your worst nightmares.

Once up a time, Ryan had been the love of your life, the center of your universe. He was a couple of years older, had a punk rock band, tattoos and felt so dangerous. It had been such a thrill. Your parents hated him and hated who you became when you were with him. Then one night you came by his place and he had just up and left without explanation, without a goodbye.

You remembered running all the way back home, the cold air of the night drying your tears and your heart felt like it would never be whole again. Maybe it never mended right, because even though you had several relationships in the last ten years, they never seemed to last or to feel quite right.

It was something you avoided thinking about it and were mostly successful since you’ve been putting your career as a detective for NYPD as your biggest priority. You shouldn’t let the ghost of a ruined relationship you had when you were a teenager affect you or ruin your fun at your best friend's wedding.

That was easier said than done though because as soon as you set foot on your hometown you were hit by this overwhelming sense of nostalgia that settled on your chest and seemed unwilling to be shaken off. Everywhere you looked, your mind was flooded with memories and you never felt closer to your seventeen old self.

The feeling was especially strong when you met Claire and your other best friend Lydia at the same store the three of you bought your prom dresses so you could do the final fitting for your dress. Since you and Lydia had pretty much the same body type, she had been standing in for you and this was the first time you would actually try on the dress that Claire picked for you: a burgundy halter neck dress with a side slit that went up to your mid-thigh.

“You look amazing!” Claire gushed as she met your eyes through the mirror. You grinned at your best friend because she was right. It was a beautiful dress and fit you perfectly.

You paid for the dress and the three of you left the store heading to the same diner you used to hang out after school back in the day. You hoped they still served that heavenly chocolate milkshake and fries because you were starving.

By some miracle, your usual booth at the diner, the one right by the glass window, was free and you, Claire and Lydia took your seats, ordering a round of milkshakes and fries as you caught up with each other. Sure, you three talked every other week, but nothing beat being with them in person. It was light and fun and familiar, and you were having so much fun you forgot any worries you had until you saw him.

Ryan stood on the other side of the street and he looked like he was waiting for someone as he talked on the phone. He had changed so much in the past ten years. Gone were the purple mohawk, piercings and ripped shirts. Ryan had gone back to his natural blonde hair; his blue eyes were free of makeup and there was no piercing visible. He was dressed in a simple blue button-down and tan slacks that fitted him quite nicely.

He looked even more handsome than you remembered and your stomach felt queasy and twisted into knots at the sight of him. Especially when a brunette woman that belonged on the pages of a fashion magazine stepped out of the shop and met him. Ryan kissed her cheek and they walked away; arms linked together.

“You didn’t tell me he was bringing a date,” you croaked, glancing back at Claire.

“I didn’t know,” she said with a sympathetic expression. “Are you ok? What do you need?”

“Alcohol,” you declared, dropping a few bills on the table as you stood up. “Lots and lots of alcohol.”

It was a good thing that Lydia and Claire knew about the entire dirty affair between you and Ryan because they didn’t even blink at your request. Instead, they guided you out of the diner and two streets over to the bar you all used to go as teens. It was old and kind of seedy, but the drinks were cheap, there was a karaoke machine and the bartender still remembered your orders, so he kept them coming all night.

You left the bar with your friends around two in the morning, finding your way home and stumbling up to your childhood room, without waking your parents by some kind of miracle.

Once again you were swayed by the nostalgia that sent you into a fit of uncontrollable giggles. Sneaking home after too much booze? Could there be something more teenage to do?  

And maybe it was this nostalgia that gave you the brilliant idea of digging out the stupid journal from under the loosen floorboard under your bed. It was an old leather-bound book you found at an antique store. The yellowing pages and intricate design on the cover had caught your eye and you ended up buying it because back then you were obsessed with becoming a Wiccan witch.

Flipping through the familiar pages, you smiled at the “spells” which were mostly badly written rhymes or some verses you found online. A spell to get good grades; another to make your father less annoying;  one to make people fall in love with you; there was even one to summon a demon... You paused at those words, frowning at the page. You didn’t remember this one but it certainly your handwriting.

You got up in an impulse and gathered the ingredients the spell required: silver, ash, and bone. You took an old jewelry box that you found in your room, filled with a handful of your grandfather’s ashes, the black knight made of carved bone from your father’s chess set and the silver necklace your mom had given you for your sweet sixteen.

Once you had everything, you grabbed your journal of spells and the box and headed for the crossroads a couple of blocks from your parents’ house. The entire thing was crazy and the sane part of you kept telling you to go back home and sleep off your intoxication. Another part of you, which was louder, edged you forward.

You put the box in the middle of the crossroad and checked the spell again. There was one last ingredient that you hadn’t added: blood. You took out your hairpin, letting your long hair tumble free over your shoulders as you used the sharp edge to prickle our finger, flinching at the quick stab of pain. Crimson blood blossomed on your skin and you let it fall into the open box before you chanted the words on the journal three times as demanded.

Holding your breath you waited a few moments, but nothing happened except a slow drizzle starting to fall. The cold droplets made you laugh and sobered you up a little. What were you doing? This was ridiculous.

Rolling your eyes at yourself and sucking your wounder finger, you picked up the jewelry box from the dirt ground and turned on your heels to head home. You managed only a couple of steps when the wind picked up speed, making your hair wisp widely over your face, carrying around a deep throaty voice:

“Your Latin needs work.”

---

John was staring out of the window of his hotel room, sipping his bourbon when he felt the call. It had been a very long time since he had received a summoning. In these modern times, witches and warlocks were a rare breed and few of those who dabbled with magic had any actual power to execute a spell like this.

Apparently, someone in this tiny little town was powerful enough to do so and it was out of pure curiosity that John set his glass aside and followed the call. He found himself on a dirt crossroads, under a soft spring drizzle just as a young woman started to walk away from him.

He commented on her Latin to catch her attention, taking pleasure in the way she jumped startled before turning around the look at him, her doe eyes widening in surprise. She didn’t look particularly powerful or special, but there was something strangely enticing about her that sparked John’s curiosity.

“How...? Where...? Who...?” she stuttered too confused to really finish a sentence and John snorted.

“You summoned me here,” he replied with an arched eyebrow. “As for who, you may call me John.”

“A demon named John?” she snorted a laugh and John thought there was an edge of hysteria in her tone that he could only attribute to shock.

“Who were you expecting? Beelzebub?” he asked dryly. “So, what do you need?”

“What do I need?” she repeated a little dumbly and John shook his head with an exasperated sigh. This was starting to get annoying.

“Yes. Why did you summon me here?” he clarified.

“I... Well... I need a date.” she confessed, her cheeks turning a charming shade of red. “For a wedding.”

She quickly explained her situation and all John could do was stare in disbelief. This girl really summoned the powers of hell because she didn’t want to face her ex alone? It was preposterous.

“I didn’t think it would actually work!” she exclaimed, obviously noticing his disapproving expression. “How was I supposed to know I wrote down an actual summoning spell on my book of shadows when I was sixteen!?”

John shook his head, ready to go back to his hotel. This was pointless and he had a business deal to conclude in a few hours. Before he could do anything, he felt the wind changing directions and making him freeze as it brought along her scent.

 It was so sweet and desirable, almost intoxicatingly so and it made John want to bury his nose in her neck. It was the smell of virtue. This woman had one of the purest souls he ever encountered.

“I can give you what you want,” John offered in a low voice, turning up all of his charms and being rewarded by the way she shuddered. “For a price.”

“I’m not selling my soul,” she replied as she took a step back.

John fought to contain his grin at her refusal. It meant he would have to work this in the old way. Corrupt her little by little. It had been a long time since anyone put up a challenge to him. The prospect excited him.

“I don’t always deal in souls,” he said moving closer to her. “Sometimes all I require is a favor.”

“What kind of favor?” she asked, eyes narrowing in suspicion and John felt a strange sense of pride. She might be naïve enough to summon him, but she wasn’t stupid.

“You’re learning,” he commented, gently tracing up her arm just to see her breath hitching, her scent changing slightly, acquiring a certain spiciness due to her arousal. “I don’t know yet. Someday I might need something, and you’ll have to give it to me.”

John waited as she thought through his offer. He could tell part of her wasn’t sure if this was really happening or if she was hallucinating due to too much alcohol.

“I assure you, darling,” he said, taking her hand in his hand bringing to his lips for a soft kiss, letting his teeth scrape over her knuckles. “I am quite real.”

“Will anyone get hurt? If I do this favor?” she asked her voice shaky, her cheeks flushed.

“No one needs to get hurt,” he assured, holding her gaze.

“Ok,” she finally said with a gulp. “If you promise no one will get hurt with this favor of yours, I accept. Where do I sign?”

“That’s not how demons seal contracts, darling…” John smirked at her, hand moving to her cheek, cradling her face and tilting her face up with a gentle nudge of his thumb on her chin. He could tell the exact moment she realized what was about to happen because her eyes darkened and her lips parted almost in an invitation.

 John could hear her heart racing and the jumble of thoughts running through her head as he closed the distance between them and pressed his lips against hers. He was gentle because he didn’t want to scare her and it paid off because she sighed against his mouth, her hand coming to his chest and fisting his shirt as she pressed her mouth a little more firmly against his and John could feel her urge to have him.

His tongue teased the seam of her lips and she immediately parted them for him, letting John explore and chase the faint taste of liquor and the sweetness that seemed uniquely hers. It was almost addictive, especially the way she responded to him, her own tongue sliding against his, her body pressing closer. John could feel her arousal growing and igniting his own. It had been a long time since he felt this stirring with just a kiss.

He wrapped an arm around her waist to hold her steady and her hands timidly moved up to his neck, her fingers combing through his hair softly, almost like she was petting him, and this time John was the one to sigh against her mouth.

He could stay like this for a long time. As long as she wanted.

It was that treacherous thought that broke the spell and John pulled away from her, putting some physical distance between himself and the girl.

John lingered for a moment watching the way she sighed happily, eyes still closed, her fingers gently touching her lips, still caught up in the aftereffects of him charm. He felt a strange urge to return to her, catch her mouth again, but before he could succumb to those impulses, he went back to his hotel, putting some distance between himself and this alluring human.

He was the one doing the tempting, not the other way around. John needed to remember that.

(tbc)

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[secretsantasides]

Gift #14: Colorblind

Gift for @forestwulf​

Prompt: Intrulogical Soulmate AU.

        Logan massaged his temples as the nightclub music pounded in his ears, “I don’t know why you insist on coming here.”

        “It’s twinks drink free night,” Patton said, sipping his appletini.

        “You stopped being a twink ten years ago,” Logan muttered.

        Patton sighed, “I’m going to ignore that because you’re my brother and I love you. Speaking of love-”

        “Don’t,” Logan said. “Not this again.”

        “Listen to me,” Patton said. “I’m worried about you, Logan. I know you’re a little robot and you don’t need romance in your life or any friends but-”

        “I have friends,” Logan said.

        “But,” Patton said. “You’re thirty years old and it’s starting to make mom sad on the holidays. When I met Ethan, it wasn’t sitting around at home and moping. I mean how long has it been since you were touched by another human being?”

        “Soulmates,” Logan sighed. “Don’t start, Pat. I’ll gouge my eye out with this tiny umbrella.”

         Patton rolled his eyes, “Logan it’s not just nonsense; it’s science! Just because you think you’re some kind of lone wolf doesn’t mean you don’t have a soulmate. Your eyes wouldn’t be grey if you weren’t still waiting for your person. So you can deny it all you want. It won’t change the fact that they’re waiting.”

         “I don’t have time for a soulmate, Pat. You and Ethan just work better; you have time to be in love and he’s patient enough to deal with… you.”

         Patton faked an offended gasp, “Just for that I’m not getting you a free drink next round! But you’re right, Ethan is perfect. However-”

         “There is no however.”

         ”However,” Patton continued. “It doesn’t mean that there isn’t someone out there who’s just as patient with your bullshit as Ethan is with mine. Now look you made me swear. I hope you’re happy.”

         “I think the three appletinis made you swear,” Logan said. “Don’t you have work tomorrow?”

         “Actually I’m going out of town in two days with the girls so they gave me time off.”

         “Out of town? That’s this week?” Logan asked.

         Patton finished his drink, “I love how much you listen when I talk. The pandas are being moved to the zoo in Atlanta so their enclosure can be remodeled and we’re hoping to get some breeding done while we’re out there. That’s why I told you that you have to take mom to the optometrist on Monday. If you forget that, Logan-”

         “Right right,” Logan said. “No I’ll remember it’s… it’s in my phone.” He looked at his empty glass of whiskey but pushed it aside, deciding he’d better stay sober, “So what’s Ethan thinking about this longterm separation?”

         Patton snorted, “One of his retics laid a ton of eggs and she bit his face when he was pulling the clutch. Now he’s walking around like Crocodile Dundee. Plus the whole clutch is viable so we’re looking at a lot of new snakes to add to the national program. He’s in talks with a zoo in Taiwan too about some bloodline trades. It’s really annoying sometimes. He gets dozens of babies a season and I’m lucky if I’ll see more than two or three in my career.”

         “Well you chose the pandas,” Logan said.

         ���I’ll have you know the pandas chose me,” Patton said. “You want another drink?”

         “Nah, I’ll drive you home,” Logan said. “Go flirt with the bartender and see if he’ll pretend to think you’re young some more.”

         Patton laughed as he slid out of his seat, walking over to the bar. On the dancefloor Logan saw a small group of students, a few of which he recognized—one in particular a large pain in his ass. Remus Prince, Quarterback of the university football team and well-known idiot. Logan wished Remus was the typical jock idiot, uncaring and arrogant, one he could easily fail without a second thought, but Remus was bound and determined to make up for his own shortcomings with hard work and extra credit. It meant that half of Logan’s office hours were spent patiently explaining things to Remus again and again, and accepting an outlandish amount of extra credit work.

         And—even more annoyingly—through it all Remus was cheerful, friendly and actually interested in what Logan had to say. Worse still, Remus was a senior, only four years younger than Logan who was the baby of the science department and didn’t he just hate that little nickname? Remus was like a peer, but worse, a jock, the kind of person that would have made Logan’s life miserable if they’d ever walked the same halls together as students. The revelation that Remus was gay was… interesting? No, not interesting. He’s a student and you don’t care. Logan rubbed his eyes and sighed, jumping when Patton returned with two appletinis. He sat down and stared at his brother matter-of-factly, “Guess how much these cost me?”

         Logan raised an eyebrow and couldn’t stop the smile that tugged at his lips, “How are we related?”

          Patton was a lot heavier than he looked when he needed to be carried, and Logan struggled up the stairs to the door of the apartment, knocking on the door. It was a cute place, all brick and right on the street, divided in half horizontally to make a duplex, but it was roomy and it was nice for two people on zookeeper salary; it was inexpensive—for Florida. Ethan opened the door and Logan gasped, “Ethan, your face!”

         Ethan did smile, and there was more than a little pride in it, “Don’t worry. She hit above and below my eye but the doc said to keep a full dressing on it at night so I don’t rub anything off. He cool?”

         “Vodka drunk,” Logan said, hauling Patton inside and laying him on the couch. “Not too bad but I told him I’d stay sober and I think he needed to drink off some stress.”

         “The move, yeah,” Ethan said, following Logan back to the door. “And my face. He’s not really loving how many times I take the bandage off to show people but it’s my first big tag! You wanna see the pictures from the ER?”

         “Gosh I’d love to but I have class in the morning so-”

         “Ethan!” Patton called from the livingroom, “Come sex me up, Mr. Snake Whisperer!”

         “Good luck with that,” Logan said. “Tell him to call me when he’s less obnoxious.”

         “Will do,” Ethan said. “Bye Logan.”

         Logan snorted when Patton called again and started down the stairs, “Good luck!”

                   Logan looked at himself in the mirror after taking out his contacts and smiled at his grey eyes; grey was distinguished, and he didn’t mind having a constant reminder—for himself and others—that he was beyond all of this soulmate nonsense. He was a lone wolf, just like Patton said, and his true love was forensic anthropology—or biology, as he was currently teaching. His application was top in line for the anthropology department, however, and he had consulted a time or two on actual cases. So, despite Patton’s—and his mother’s—insistence that his life was somehow incomplete, Logan couldn’t be happier. He turned off the bathroom light and crawled into bed, thinking back over his tasks for the day, all of which he’d completed before he ever set foot inside the gay bar with his brother. It was the same way he lulled himself to sleep every night, assured of all of his accomplishments, large and small, and how every day was a blank slate.

         Sleep came quick for him, thanks to the single glass of whiskey and the exhaustion of dealing with his drunk brother—and his sober brother-in-law. His dreams were blurry and immemorable until suddenly his vision was filled with green. There were calloused hands on his skin, warm lips on his cheek and breath in his ear, and he was held against a solid body with a grip that was surprisingly strong. He closed his eyes and still all he could see was green.

         Logan gasped and sat up, checking the clock and scowling; it was still the middle of the night and he was baffled by the strange dream and irredeemably hard. He sighed heavily and climbed out of bed, heading back into the bathroom and turning the shower to cold, stripping off his pajamas. Who the hell did he know that was associated with green, anyway? He didn’t even like the color green, his favorite color was indigo, far from the blinding lime he’d been accosted with in his dream. Any thoughts of the dream went screaming from his mind when he stepped into the water; his chest tightened and he exhaled involuntarily, “F-fuck!”

He tightened his hands into fists and endured the water, somehow preferring cold-induced heart palpitations to ward off an unwanted erection than perhaps the more obvious—and less miserable—solution. It was easier to be stubborn and miserable than to admit—and revel in—the fact that something had gotten him going, and that it had to be the dream. Whiskey wasn’t exactly known for facilitating physical arousal, and he’d barely had enough to taste in the first place.

                           “Morning!” Remus announced as he knocked on the open office door.

         “Good morning,” Logan said, “Come in, Mr. Prince.” He cleared away the end of his desk where Remus usually worked and stacked up the papers elsewhere. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

         Remus laughed, his cheeks a bit pink; Logan wondered if he was getting a cold—and how much that would panic the other professors about the state of the football team. He took a sip of his coffee as he sat down. Remus scratched the back of his neck, “Well I have the three essays to turn in, and I did the makeup dissection test with Professor Picane’s Zoological Anatomy class… the uh… feral pig?”

         “Fetal pig,” Logan said, putting his coffee cup aside. “He sent your scores up to me. Good work. You got everything right except for the microscope work. We’re still struggling with cellular identification. I spoke with Emile and he said you actually seemed to have issues where things were similarly colored, so I took the liberty of emailing you some color-blind tests. I’m also inviting you to come in during my freshman course tomorrow. I use different dyes in my slides and I think you’ll benefit from it.”

         “Great!” Remus said. “You really go above and beyond to help me, Professor Heart. I um… well, thank you so much.”

         Logan crossed his legs, leaning back in his chair, “You know, Remus, I think you’ve got a lot of potential, and I think you’ve been pushed through classes due to your athletic prowess—to your detriment. I really want to help you understand that you’re not lacking in intelligence, you understand. You’ve got the answers, we’ve just had to learn how to get to them, right?”

         “Right,” Remus said, ducking his head shyly. “You’re always right.”

         “Now, with these three essays and with you making up the microscope work tomorrow, there’s no need for anymore extra credit work. You’ve got this, Mr. Prince. All you have to do is attend all of the lectures and you’ll be on track for a strong grade in this class. Do you feel like you need any more help?”

         Remus hesitated, “I  mean… you’ve done so much. I know you’ve basically changed my life, and how I feel about science—school in general! I um… I guess if I need anything I’ll just schedule a day before finals. If you think I can do it, I think I can do it.”

         Logan smiled, “Very good, Remus. You’ve got this.”

         Remus set the three essays down on the empty part of the desk and looked over them, “I can’t believe this is it, you know? I’m going to graduate in less than a month.”

         “Another year on the books,” Logan said. “Wait until you’re my age.”

         “You’re not old,” Remus said. “You’re still in your twenties too. Oh!” He picked up his backpack and dug through it, pulling out a small cardboard box. He set it on the desk. “I know your real interest is anthropology, like the cop kind, and I um… well, my dad works in the big museum uptown. They got a few of these and they gave my dad two of them.”

         Logan took the box and opened it, raising an eyebrow as he took out a human skull, obviously prepared and preserved professionally. “This is a nicely intact specimen. You’re certain this is alright?”

         “Yeah my dad said he’d rather it go to somebody who wants it than just gather dust in our basement or the museum’s basement. Oh they said it had uh… crouton disease?”

         “Crouzon Disease,” Logan said, standing up. “Hyperostosis Frontalis Interna, very interesting. Thank you Remus this is incredibly thoughtful.”

         Remus watched Logan put the skull in a central place on his shelf of books and specimens; it looked good, but Remus wasn’t really paying attention to the skull, especially when Logan turned and gave him a smile, extending his hand. Remus jumped up and shook it eagerly, “Thank you again, professor. You’re my hero. You’re especially my parents’ hero.”

         Logan chuckled, and the touch was mildly electric, probably static, but it made Logan shiver, “You’re the hero, Mr. Prince. Remember that, hard work got you this far, and it’ll take you wherever you want to go.”

         Remus nodded, slowly releasing Logan’s hand and stepping back to grab his backpack. “Well, see you in class tomorrow! Eight, right?”

         “Right,” Logan said. “And don’t forget the possibility of a pop quiz tomorrow in your actual class.”

         “Possibility,” Remus chuckled. “Good one, Professor Heart. See you then.”

         Logan watched him go and sighed, turning to admire the skull, a warmth blooming in his chest he’d never really felt before. It really was a nice skull, he supposed.

          Logan drove home with that feeling intact, almost floating into the elevator and riding it up to his floor. After making it down the hallway, and the obligatory avoidance of his neighbor’s eyes, he stepped into his apartment and locked the door behind him. He felt bone-deep exhausted—probably from the dream-cursed night before—and he went straight to the bathroom to take out his contacts. Once his contacts were safely back in their saline baths, he brushed his teeth, grabbing his glasses off of the vanity and putting them on. He admired his eyes—his green eyes. Logan gasped and squeezed his eyes closed, opening them again, still green. He took off his glasses, and his reflection was blurry, but clearly green eyes stared back at him. The warmth in his chest suddenly became a sharp icicle, and he realized. Green, Remus Prince. “Fuck!” Logan shouted, turning off the light and rushing out to his bedroom. He sat on the bed and pulled his cellphone out of his pocket, dialing his brother.

         The phone rang several times, and went to voicemail; Logan swore again and dialed the home phone, “Come on Pat come on.”

         “Hey Logan! What’s up?”

         “Ethan? Oh, is Pat… oh shit.”

         “Alabama,” Ethan said. “Yeah. You ok?”

         “No, not at all… oh god. Can we talk? Like do you have time?” Logan stood up, pacing around the bed. “I have… an awkward situation.”

         “You? I don’t believe it.”

         Logan sighed and Ethan laughed, “I’d like to be serious with you for a moment.”

         “Of course,” Ethan said. “Go ahead.”

         “When you realized you were Patton’s soulmate, was there a feeling?”

         “Hm,” Ethan said. “Actually, yes. I thought I had heartburn, actually. Just like this warmth in my chest? It sounds a bit stereotypical but yeah. I felt warm. That night when I was washing my face I realized my eyes had changed. You doing a study?”

         “Um… no,” Logan admitted. “My eyes are green.”

         “Oh! Oh my god! Did you tell your mom?”

         “Please, Ethan. I have only told you.”

         “Do you know who it is?” Ethan asked. “Any clue?”

         “One of my students,” Logan said. “The… football player.”

         “Oh yeah I remember Patton mentioning him, the stupid one right?”

         Logan bristled, “He isn’t stupid. He’s…” He sighed, rubbing his temple, “Well, thank you Ethan. You’ve answered my question.”

         “Text Pat,” Ethan said. “He’ll lose his shit.”

         “Goodnight, Ethan,” Logan said.

         Logan hung up and set his phone on the nightstand before undressing, pulling on a pair of pajama pants and climbing into bed. He turned off the lamp and pulled the blanket over his head, willing himself to sink into the earth.

          The following morning’s class was a blur of barely-controlled panic and dread, but luckily Remus barely even spared him a glance, intent on taking and passing his cellular identification exam. Logan pretended to grade papers when Remus came up to his desk, and his heart surged like it had, warming to Remus like a rock in the sun, “See you in class.”

         Logan gave a noncommittal sound, and Remus left the classroom, allowing Logan to finally breathe. Ignoring this wasn’t going to be easy, and Logan was already getting frantic texts from his brother demanding an explanation. Logan briefly wondered how hard it would be to vanish without changing universities. The worst part, without question, was how badly he wanted Remus to touch him, even just a brush of his hand. His body was like a magnet and his hands were shaking even though their closeness had been brief. At least his upcoming class was taking a pop quiz, and they were to clear out as soon as answers were submitted.  

          Logan remained more or less glued to the desk during the hour between classes, grading the microscope work—Remus hadn’t missed a single slide, so Picane’s catch on the colorblindness had been spot on. Logan had felt a stab of jealousy, absurd as it was, that he hadn’t realized it sooner, first, because Remus was his soulmate—his.

         “Mine,” Logan muttered to himself, then his face heated up when he realized what he’d said, and he looked down to realize he’d written it on Remus’ exam answers. Quickly scratching it out he pushed the test aside and lowered his face to the desk. “What a nightmare.”

         “What’s a nightmare, Mr. Heart?”

         Logan looked up to see his first student sliding into her desk, and he forced a chuckle, “The state of the economy in nineteenth century Luxembourg.” He stood up and began writing on the board.

         “Will that be on the final?” another student asked. The classroom had started filling up.

         “Not unless I’ve ever written it on this board,” Logan said. “We start final prep next week, don’t forget.”

         He finished filling out the board as the rest of his students filed in, and once his watch beeped cheerily that class had started, he heard a voice pick up behind him, the same girl from before, “Is that your favorite tie, Mr. Heart? You wear it a lot.”

         “It’s my favorite color,” Logan said without turning around. “As charming as the distraction is, I haven’t forgotten the pop quiz.” He turned around and Remus was staring at him, mouth open in shock. On either side of him, his linebacker buddies were looking at one another, and Logan realized his mistake in revealing his favorite color—because he knew better than anyone what color Remus’ eyes must be now. Wincing, he adjusted his glasses, “Alright, please take out a clean sheet of paper and answer the questions I’ve written on the board. When you’re finished please leave them up here and you may go.”

         Logan sat at his desk and pretended to be working, jumping when the first student turned in their quiz, but calmed and kept his eyes down as the steady stream of quizzes landed on his desk. He was starting to feel safe when most of his students had gone, and he made the mistake of looking up when a loud pair of sneakers stopped at his desk. The room was empty, and Remus Prince was standing at his desk, quiz in his hand. He set it down with the others and shoved his hands in his pockets, “Your eyes are green. I never noticed.”

         Logan paled and stared up at Remus, “I um… it’s recent.”

         Remus nodded, “Me too, indigo, right? It’s a weird blue for eyes. My brother said they look like Liz Taylor whoever that is.”

         Logan let out a nervous little laugh, looking down at the paper he’d been doodling on only to realize he’d been writing the word mine over and over, “Yeah. She had um… dark eyes. So I suppose you’ve met your soulmate then, congratulations, Mr. Prince.”

         Remus looked around and then back at Logan, “You’re going to pretend it isn’t you?”

         Logan was feeling very much like a deer in the headlights, but at the same time heat was playing in his chest. He pushed his chair back and stood up, tensing when Remus reached to grab his wrist, “I’m not-” Logan tried to pull away but Remus shook his head, “I’m not pretending anything I… damn it. Damn it I’m afraid, ok? You’re a student!”

         “Not for long! Like two weeks from now I’m taking the final, and unless I stop showing up entirely, there’s no way I’m failing. I did the math which I know will impress you because I’m such an idiot.”

         “Mr. Prince,” Logan said, then sighed. “Remus… is this even something you want? A relationship dictated by some… some system we don’t even understand? By colors and chance and… what, fate? You want to let the universe stick you with someone… someone like me?”

         Remus laughed and released Logan, covering his face with his hands, “You don’t fucking get it, do you? You really don’t.”

         Logan wrapped his arms around himself, blushing and adjusting his glasses, “Don’t get what?”

         “I have wanted you since before I started in this class!” Remus said. “My brother, the attention whore? He had me come here last semester to pick up a paper for him, remember? If it was just fate shoving us together it would have happened then… but it didn’t. I thought you were hot, so I signed up for your class because I figured I’d cheat my way through and have a hot prof to stare at right?”

         “Hot?”

         “Just let me finish,” Remus said. “When I came in here and sat down at that desk and I listened to you read the syllabus… and all of your weird bone jokes and that thing about the swamp mummy?”

         “Bog bodies, the Tollund Man, yes,” Logan said. “You remember that?”

         “Yeah because you cared, like you actually cared about it. You’re not just here because you couldn’t get a career and you’re not just here to waste time. You really care about what you’re teaching us, and I know you’re trying to switch departments but whatever, you know what I mean… there’s a lot of passion there and it made me give a shit. It took me forty-five minutes to fall in love with your stupid class, and maybe two or three classes to fall in love with you… but still it didn’t happen. Because it didn’t happen until you fell in love with me.”

         Logan was silent as he stared at Remus, his mouth hanging open; he took a sharp breath, shoving his hands in his pockets, “Jesus.”

         “Well? Am I right?” Remus said, tears welling up in his eyes. “It’s the mustache right? My friends told me that’s the reason you didn’t tell me. Because you hate it. I don’t even care. I’ll shave it off, ok? I don’t care if it’s good luck I-”

         Logan crossed the short distance between them and kissed Remus, cutting him off. Remus grabbed Logan’s collar and pulled him closer, deepening the kiss. Logan’s mind spun, and his knees went weak. Remus had no trouble holding him up, and when they finally broke the kiss, Logan smiled sheepishly. “I don’t hate the mustache, as much as I wish I did. I really don’t.”

         Remus buried his face against Logan’s shoulder and laughed, “Great because I really need to keep it if I’m going to get drafted. Three of the NFL scouts commented on it.”

         “Yes I’m sure you’ll bring back the seventies mustache. Your parents will be ecstatic.”

         “Yeah… so um… are we dating?”

         “No,” Logan said, then off Remus’ look he hurried to elaborate. “Not until you pass this class of your own merit. Like you said, it’s no big deal and then, the second your final grade is logged in the university database… we can date.”

         Remus smiled, smoothing down Logan’s shirt as he stepped back, “Right, cool um… hey I should probably go then, right? Got studying to do. Bye teach.”

         “Mr. Prince,” Logan said, sinking back down into his seat once Remus was gone.

         It was going to be a long couple of weeks.

[nelllraiser]

nell no yell (maybe) | alain & nell

LOCATION: dell’s tavern and alain’s house. TIMING: shortly after alain sustained his concussion. PARTIES: @carbrakes-and-stakes​ and @nelllraiser​.

If there was one thing Nell could desperately use after a week like this. It was a drink. For once, she didn’t feel like having company, unsure how to act like everything was normal around people at the moment. Sometimes, it was strange to think of how different her problems might have been if she’d been- well- normal. Not once had she ever wished to be normal, but sometimes she simply grew curious what her life would be like. Would she have gone to college? No, that was doubtful. But what would her place have been in a mundane world, when all she did now was so deeply steeped in the supernatural? She wouldn't trade it for anything, but she couldn't help but vaguely wonder what the grass might be like on the other side. This was what she was thinking of when she stepped into Dell’s Tavern late on a Monday night. It shouldn’t be busy, and she was right as she looked up at the bar. There was only one person sitting there. But a double take later, the beginnings of a scowl was coming over her features. She knew that profile. Alain. In a moment she was marching up to him, and voicing her demands. “We need to talk.”

Alain had left the hospital almost as soon as the nurse turned her back on him, which was about 12 hours after the incident. Unsure of what had happened to him, all he could trust were flashes of last night that appeared to him at times. Blanche holding a pan, then not holding it anymore. And still, he could swear that it was what hit him. None of this make sense. And man was he angry at how things went down. The timing could not have been worse. He could have dealt with Blanche’s anger and pain, but he couldn’t forgive himself for letting her see that. Maybe he should have stopped. Postponed. If those troubles had left his mind now, it was only because he had been sitting and drinking for quite a while already at Dell’s, and that his attention was now focused on a basketball game on tv. Still, when he heard the irritating sound of an already too familiar voice, Alain realized that he probably should have picked any other bar than this one. No one would have bothered him at the Silver bullet. “You need to drink your liquor in silence, just like me,” he drily replied, not even giving her a glance. 

There was no way in hell Nell would do as Alain requested when it came to drinking in silence. She had far too many questions for the man, and even though she’d come to Dell’s hoping to escape for a moment— she couldn’t do that when one of her problems was glaring her in the face in the form of Alain. There wasn’t much patience left in her, and she hadn’t started out with much in the first place when it came to him and his attempts to kill Remmy. “No,” she said bluntly, succinctly. “Are you going to try and kill Remmy again or not?” Even though she knew Alain hadn’t dragged Remmy to his house or anything, he’d still been planning to go through with the killing. He would have left Remmy die thinking the world was better off without them. No one deserved a death like that unless it was true. 

"Why do you fucking care ? It's just another fucking monster. How's that different from the things you catch for the Ring?" Alain's eyes reluctantly moved away from the TV screen to look at her. Whoever Nell was, he did not buy that holier than thou attitude she had been showing him since they met at his house. She took his job, he quit it because even he thought it was too rough. So really who did she think she was, lecturing him when she, of all people could have understood what it was like to be in his shoes. Was she blinded by Blanche's certitudes? Either way, he would not be lectured by a hypocrite. Finishing his glass of scotch, he raised his finger at the bartender, getting his wallet from his coat. Clearly this was no longer a safe haven for him. "I'm leaving."

“They’re not just another monster, Alain! That’s the whole point. They have feelings. Hopes. Dreams. And they’re a nice person. They don’t deserve to have that all just taken away from them.” But then Nell frowned, not expecting her and The Ring to be brought into this. “I told you- I only catch the bad ones. The ones who like causing pain.” Perhaps she hasn’t said it in so many words, but she has tried her best. She didn’t particularly think she’d ever change Alain’s mind when it came to this, but that wouldn’t stop her from arguing her point. She never knew when to quit. Or perhaps...it was just that she didn’t ever want to. This moment was no exception as she decided to invite herself along to wherever Alain was headed. “Great. So where are we going? Sure you don’t want a drink for the road?”

“I don’t care,” Alain, with all the patience he had, wasn’t feeling all too patient right now. Maybe it was the fact that he had been drinking nearly a whole bottle of scotch by himself, but his tolerance for bullshit wasn’t at his highest now. He paid his bill and stood up from his stool carefully, unsure of what his legs would do when they’d touch the ground. Gripping tightly onto the counter, he looked down at his feet, then slowly looked up toward the door. Alright, he was definitely more dizzy than he thought. It had been a decade and a half since the last time he had been drinking this much, so he shouldn’t have been surprised. “What? No, I’m heading back home,” he took a moment to gather his thoughts. Why did she even want to follow him anyway. Had he been sober, he would have told her to fuck off and head back to hypocrisy town, but he did not have that type of wit with him now. “I don’t need your company, I’m fine.”

“Yeah that much is obvious,” Nell retorted, some heat entering her words. How could he just not care? She knew it most likely had to do with his Hunter upbringing, but still. It wasn’t like you could just...turn empathy off in a person, right? At least- not a person like Alain, she thought. But she squinted at him as he stood, taking note of his uncertainty. “Are you...drunk?” What was that saying about drinking alone? She wasn’t sure, but she knew it was generally thought of as being bad. Nevermind the fact that she’d been coming here to drink alone. “Yeah you can go home. I don’t care. I’m just saying I’m coming with you, because I’m not done talking to you.” More like talking at him. “And you said we could talk later. About all...this. I didn’t ask if you wanted company.” She wasn’t particularly planning on giving him a choice. 

“Then why do you keep bothering me with that? I won’t change my mind,” Alain grumbled as he crossed his arms over his chest. He had given up on fastening the buttons of his coat already. Walking to the front door proved to be doable, although he was caught back by his dizziness when then cool air of the night hit his face. Damn, was it that late already? He was hungry. At least, that’s the information his brain got when it connected the dark night to the fact that Alain had not had food since it was still sunny out there. “On one condition, I’m starving and I’ll only talk with you if you have dinner with me,” he was in no condition to drive and Al’s diner wasn’t too far. Either that or she was able to drive him home and help him cook dinner. He still had some civet de chevreuil from when Nora came by too. 

“I’ve never given up in my entire life, and I’m not gonna start doing it now.” Especially when a friend’s life was on the line. Not to mention all the other innocent people Alain might possibly go out and try to kill. Nell rolled her eyes as she watched him try to button his jacket, and called him to wait when he stepped outside of the bar. “Stand still, you dumbass,” she said before reaching out to try and button the jacket he’d been struggling with. “Should you even be drinking this much after a concussion? They never let me drink after concussions.” His request surprised her though, and her head tilted curiously to the side. “I can’t drive you anywhere. I have a motorcycle with no sidecar, and I’m not letting you on it while you’re drunk. But if you have some other way of getting there...I suppose.”

“Why do you care?” Alain glanced up from her hands, which he had been staring at the whole time she was buttoning his coat. He had never been fond of being touched by people he barely knew. “No, seriously, why do you care? If I die, your best friend is safe, right? That’s how you think this works, huh?” He shook his head in disgust and disdain, and immediately regretted it. He felt so dizzy. “Bordel de…” Alain muttered, staring at the tip of his shoes for an instant, focusing. Yeah no. He raised his finger, looking like he was about to throw up. Yup. Making a face, he took a couple of steps away from Nell and came back to her wiping his chin clean. Well, if she did not completely hate him after this. “A motorcycle, huh?” He pointed at the car parked behind them, “that’s mine. Can you drive stick?” He laid his back against the wall and took a deep breath. Vomiting had helped, it seemed. “There must be cabs or something, I don’t know, Nell.”

At first, Nell mistook his words. “Why do I care? Because I don’t want people who don’t deserve to die to just get murdered.” But she soon realized her mistake as he repeated his words, and her lips pursed. “I’m not stupid! I know you’re not the only one who would want to kill them.” Why did she care, though? She couldn’t really...provide an answer. “Maybe I’m just not as eager of a killing machine as you are.” Probably a lie. Nell’s nose scrunched as he returned after his moment of weakness, reluctantly reaching into the large pocket of her jacket and rustling around. In a moment, she’d procured a mint from some random restaurant she’d dined in and wordlessly handed it over. “Ahhhh- I don’t- exactly have a liscnese. We can just Lyft or something, though,” she said, pulling out her phone. “Where are we going?”

"Can't murder a dead person," Alain observed unwrapping the mint she had given him with a sad smile. It did solve at least one of his problems. "Thanks," he scrunched up his nose and looked away from her. "Are you sure about that though?" Clearing his throat, he added : "Being a killing machine, I mean. I've seen that look in your eyes the other day," a look he saw in each of his family members' eyes, in his own eyes. She probably did not want to admit it, because it would mean that she was just like him. Maybe it was the alcohol but Alain was connecting quite a few dots here, that linked him to Nell. "I'd like to go home and have some food," he replied. She would do whatever she pleased with that. 

Nell huffed, doing her best not to yell again, though Alain was making it very difficult. “Look. If we’re going to talk. You’re not allowed to say things like that,” she said firmly, pointing a stern finger in his direction. “They might have died, but they are not currently dead. You can’t act like this is black and white!” But she looked up at him, uncertain what he was trying to say for a moment. “Maybe. But not like you. I don’t kill people or things that don’t deserve it.” Ahhh, perhaps she should have left the bit out about people but...it was too late now. Besides, she’d only killed a few human people. Nell sighed. Of course he wanted to have food at his house. “Fine,” she said, putting in his address on the app. Soon enough, a car had arrived for them. 

Alain frowned at her as a response. Say what things? The truth. “You only care because they are your friend. I could kill hundreds of other zombies that you wouldn’t tell me this crap,” he sat down on the floor as he waited for the car to get there. His head was still spinning, and he felt more comfortable like this. “People ?” He raised an eyebrow, “do you kill humans? Nell,” he pulled on her coat to get her attention, “Nell. That doesn’t make you a better person. Killing doesn’t care for feelings or who deserved it,” this was something he had heard his father say when he was a kid, and quite frankly he agreed with that. “Fine,” he repeated, getting into the car. Could Nell even cook, he found himself wondering, and so he asked her that question. 

“Wrong,” Nell said stubbornly, shortly. “I only kill things that hurt other things intentionally or too often. And if it’s not intentional...I try to help.” Her moral compass wasn’t perfect, but it worked well enough for her. At first, she pretended like she didn’t hear him asking about people, but it was impossible to ignore when he tugged on her jacket. She looked down, finding that Alain actually looked...somewhat and somehow endearing in this position- like a child trying to get an adult’s attention. “It doesn’t matter,” she said quickly, hoping he’d forget that detail when he was sober. “I never said I was the better person. And yeah killing can’t care cause it’s an action- not the person behind it! Maybe we kill more than most people- but the point is we’re not machines. We can think and choose for ourselves. We don’t have to just kill no matter what.” He wanted her to cook? She was surprised by his question, but proudly declared, “Of course I can cook. And I’m good at it.” 

Alain raised an eyebrow. If those were her standards then vigilantes like him and herself both deserved to die by her own hand. Still, Alain was convinced that there was something noble in what he did, ridding the population of the scum, the menace that represented the undead. “You make it sound like you are holier than me, you did back at my house the other day, and you kind of do it again, now,” he smiled, looking up at her. This was in no way a personal attack against her, but rather something he had noticed. “We’re both trash, aren’t we?” He was not really expecting an answer to his question. Who would admit to being trash. Alain often drank too much when he was in a bad place, and often, he ended up in an even worse place as his drinking got worse. The idea of a good meal when they would get home did for a moment, manage to brighten his mood a little. “Me too. We should cook together sometimes. Share recipes.” Inside the car, Alain was leaning against the door. He rubbed his eyes with his fingertips and turned away from Nell, looking outside.

Nell’s bottom lip jutted out in a stubborn pout when he smiled, refusing to give him the satisfaction of him possibly being right in anything. “It’s just different.” But her gaze slid over to his, uncertainty entering her voice as his words surprised her. “You...think you’re trash?” Sad. That was sad. But she didn’t want to feel pity for this man. Unless he was only joking. His words made her own confidence waver, thinking of all the people she’d alienated in her life with bad choices. “Bea’s more inventive than me,” she deflected, for some reason suddenly a bit self-conscious. “She likes to try new dishes and things, and whip new things together. I just- do what I know.” It was perhaps a bit of a flip in their personalities, a bit opposite of what some might expect. 

Alain glanced away from her. "Sure," he didn't think too much about it, after all, he had already made up his mind as to what he thought of Nell. To him this was a story of hypocrisy. Not that he could blame her. It was hard to see the truth. Alain was too aware that what he did was problematic and that most humans did not get it. He was fine with that. He didn't actually consider himself to be trash. But still would have worn that title with honor, as long as it meant that people would be safe. "Bea?" Probably some friend of her. He shut his eyes for a moment, yawning. He covered his mouth and sighed. "As long as you know the basics, you can do everything with a bit of perseverance," he mumbled, crossing his arms over his chest. They would be at his place soon and he wondered what would happen then. She did say that they needed to talk, and he wondered if this was still on the table.

“You didn’t answer my question,” Nell said stubbornly as he ignored the comment about trash. “My sister,” was the short explanation she offered, not particularly wanting to get into her family’s life story just now. “My sister who doesn’t know about the Ring,” she added as an afterthought, She figured the chances of Alain and Bea crossing paths was slim but— it was better to make sure he knew she didn’t want that bit of information being spread around, right? Of course, she couldn’t know if he would actually respect that wish. “I’m not saying I only know the basics. I’m just saying- I’m not going on Chopped or whatever anytime soon.” By now though, they’d arrived at his place, and she was exiting the car while keeping an eye on Alain. The last thing she needed was him to trip over his own feet and take a tumble or something.

“I wonder why you didn’t tell her about the Ring,” Alain gave her a knowing look, shaking his head at her. “Scared that she’ll hate you for it?” He smiled to himself, and got out of the car before she could ask more questions. Once again, the cold air was a relief, and he stood for an instant there, taking deep breaths. Still, as much as he felt better out there, he still stumbled on his own foot and didn’t fall face first on the ground because he hit the front door first. The loud thud woke both his dogs up, who started barking as a result. “Woops,” he laughed to himself, and searching for his keys, finally got his hands on the them and started struggling to get them into the lock. Alain finally gave up and left it to Nell to do it for him. 

Nell sent Alain a dirty look, warning him off the subject. “I know what you’re trying to do.” Or at least she thought she did. He was trying to show they were the same, wasn’t he? “No that’s not why. I just don’t need more lectures from her. Besides I already told you. I only bring in the ones that deserve it.” But she was curious. “Is that why you left? Didn’t want people hating you for it?” Instinctively, she reached out as he stumbled to help catch him, but it seemed like the door had already kept him from smashing his face in. “It’s okay, puppies,” Nell called out absently, perhaps a little excited that she might actually get to meet Alain’s dogs this time instead of just yell at him. But then she was grumbling about Alain being a “little man-baby” as she took the keys, and opened the door. Cursing the fact that she couldn’t just magic a light on as she was still trying to keep her cover, she began to search blindly for a light switch against the wall.

“If you already know what I’m trying to do already, then you must think it’s true,” someone so defensive could not have a clear conscience. And maybe it explained why she was so fond of him in the first place. A fan. Alain had never before had people call themselves that, and it bugged him that she would love what he did at the Ring and hate what he did out there. The things he had done there were so much worse. “I don’t care about people’s opinion, I would be a poor hunter if I did,” his voice raised as he snapped, when he looked at her, it was with anger in his eyes. “I left because you cannot spend your life hunting and then working at the ring. I was losing my fucking mind there,” he spat those words with sorrow and pain. Thinking about his past brought him back to a place he tried to forget about. And it reminded him of Audrey and how much he missed her, still to this day. The door opened, he did not wait for her to turn on the light, and found his way to the couch without too much trouble, still fuming. 

“No, I don’t,” Nell replied simply, and stubbornly. “We have very different practices when it comes to supernatural creatures, apparently.” It was obvious he didn’t care about people’s opinions when it came to his monster hunting, but she frowned as he seemed to get angry, not particularly thinking that her question would get such a response. What was it about it that apparently made him sensitive? But his new words had a different depth to them, and she tried to look closer as she asked more questions. “What do you mean? Don’t you still spend your life hunting, anyway? Losing your mind how?” Nell vaguely remembered where the kitchen was from the last time she’d been here, and began searching through cupboards and the like to see exactly what she was working with. “I would have brought your frying pan back with me if I’d known I’d be cooking.” It was the very beginnings of a tease.

“You’re not a hunter, you wouldn’t get it,” Alain mumbled to himself. People who weren’t raised to hunt couldn’t have the same rules as he did, as hunters did. You were taught to hunt vampires and zombies, and that’s what you did, no exceptions, no questions asked, no feelings, no crying, no drama. All of this seemed natural to him, and he had never considered it to be murder. Those things were dead anyway. And he did not consider them to be human beings either. Did people mourn for the innocent cow in their plate? No, even though that cow did nothing wrong her whole life. What was the difference. He did not expect anyone but hunters to get that. “What I mean, is that you can’t spend your days and night doing the exact same thing. It changes my mind, doing something else, something not so violent.” Once again, she wouldn’t get it, the isolation inherent to the position of hunter. It had taken him years of therapy, the love of a wonderful woman, and a lot of time for him to get where he was now. He knew that he still had a lot of issues but he had never felt so well as he did these days. Still, he wishes he still had Audrey to share it with. “You can keep the damn thing. It’s a Creusot pan, it’ll last you a lifetime. You should give it to your zombie friend when you’re gone,” he scoffed. Always with the bitter humour. 

“I wouldn’t get it, because I wasn’t taught to have a blind prejudice,” Nell parried, her words not particularly filled with emotion. It was simply a fact, and she was trying to do more than blindly blame Alain for who he was. After all- prejudice was learned, not inherent. “And when you were doing something so violent? It changed you how?” Nell asked curiously, perhaps the smallest curiosity forming in her about what long-term work at the Ring might do to someone. Had she known his thoughts about isolation, she might have disagreed. Making and keeping friends had always been difficult for her, and now with her new line of work- that didn’t exactly change. At least Alain had other Hunters to relate to. She was some strange in between. Neither Hunter nor civilian. But thus far, she didn’t feel as if there were any negative effects on her from all the violence in her life. Most of the things she did were steeped in violence at this point. Capturing for the Ring. Fighting for the Ring. Bounty hunting. Though she supposed she did have her garden. Did Alain have the same reasons for gardening as she did? To know the joy of creating something rather than constantly destroying? “When I’m gone? Are you planning my death already? And what do you want to eat?” She was still getting her bearings of the kitchen, looking for items she might need.

“Don’t be cute. Doesn’t suit you,” he grumbled. One of Alain’s dogs approached him and rested his head on his lap, not too concerned with the state of his owner. Or maybe they were used to it. After losing Audrey, he had been an unconsolable wreck. His loss fueled his hatred of the supernatural even more in ways that people like Nell would never understand. She was too young to even think about death and what it meant, and so was Blanche. “Unlike you people, I wasn’t raised thinking the world is a nice place, and the ring comforted me with that idea.” Considering that Alain hadn’t protested about the head in his lap, Orion had seen it fitting to just climb on top of him and ask for more pets, which the hunter was happy to offer. Two dogs, a house and an enterprise. This probably didn’t seem like much but those things kept him going. “You know, I think you should tell Blanche about it, and whoever you care about. They’ll eventually find out about what it is you do. It’s going to be too late then,” he yawned loudly. “If you keep fighting or working or whatever it is you do for the Ring, you’ll die sooner than later. Although you must already know that.”

Nell gave the dog near Alain a wistful look, wishing she could pet one of the dogs. They were very cute. Absently, she wondered if Greg might like to meet some dogs some day. She knew he wasn’t actually a dog, but maybe he’d still have fun playing with them. After all- humans liked playing with dogs, didn’t they? “Too bad I’m just naturally cute.” But she sighed before saying, “I know it’s not a nice place now. I’m not a child.” Again she watched as Orion seemed all to happy with Alain, wondering if the other pup might grace her with its presence. “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she said reluctantly. “My sister already hates me, and Blanche- well- maybe I could tell Blanche.” Things had changed since she’d initially thought better of telling her friend. Nell shrugged before saying. “Death doesn’t scare me.” Even though he hadn’t told her what he wanted to eat, she did her best with what she could find, heating a pan on the stove.

“Then quit acting like a damn child, you can’t and you won’t be saving everyone,” Alain looked over the back of his couch, trying to straighten himself up a little, although the dog complicated things for him. “Orion, you’re crushing me, you idiot,” he told his dog in French, although kissing the animal’s snout anyway, and getting his whole face licked in return. Alain very absent-mindedly listened to Nell at this point, and was starting to feel quite sleepy now. And so he did not get to yell at Nell for saying something so cheesy as Death doesn’t scare me, or to lecture her about how important it was to be scared of death. It wasn’t long before a steady and loud enough snore could be heard coming from the living room.

“I’m not a child!” Nell said a bit more forcefully this time, far too tired of everyone telling her she was one. Just because she was younger, and had different ideas and ways of dealing with them didn’t mean she was any less than them. For a long while, she simply prattled on at Alain, determined to get something through his head as she continued to cook. But when she next turned around, she found he was fast asleep. Honestly,the audacity of him to fall asleep while she was cooking him a good meal. But her annoyance faded, and she instead put the meal she’d finished in the fridge for him later placing a somewhat snarky note on the counter, telling him where it was. And then she was out the door, giving a solemn little wave goodbye to the dogs, and locking it behind her.

[embarrassingsmartphonegame]

Anything (Chapter 3) - Nik Ryder x f!MC

Summary: After surviving an attempt on her life, she discovers there are worse fates than dying. And they’re all ice cold.

Warnings for this chapter: a few swear words here and there, some mentions of violence

Links to previous chapters: one // two 

Nik Ryder, ace Nighthunter, cursed and limped back to his apartment after a long night. Damn feral threw him against a tombstone before he managed to stake it through the heart. Whatever, each feral he hunted came with a pretty penny from the new local vampire kingpin, so he couldn’t complain. He ran a hand through his hair, the usually blunt edges longer and softened and thinned over time, as he went to open the door of his loft. Sunday night crept up slowly to Monday morning, and he estimated that he had at least a few hours before he had to go track down a ghoul terrorizing a tourist boat. Absentmindedly, his thoughts drifted to his next few jobs of the week, his schedule nice and packed the way he preferred it to be.

But as he was turning the key and opening the door to his dark living room, his deft ears picked up on a soft rustling sound originating from the couch. His right hand automatically flew to his crossbow strapped to his back, and he loaded and cocked it expertly as he stepped into the darkness cautiously, preparing himself from whatever monster that somehow managed to break into his place. He elusively side stepped a broken plastic curtain rod on the ground to get to the light switch. The veteran Nighthunter flicked the lights on and pointed his weapon.

“FREEZE!” But he dropped his crossbow with a loud thud. Shock painted his rugged, tired features and his mouth dried at the familiar chocolate brown eyes opening and meeting his.

==============================================

She dropped her bat. Leah groaned and pinched herself hard on her forearm. This had to be another bad dream. It was definitely not the first time she saw her father in a dream.

“Leah, this isn’t a dream.” A wise, comforting voice tilted out of the Fae in front of her. He looked exactly as she remembered him in Lamrian. Tall, regal, exuding an aura of kindness and inherent goodness...and he was supposed to be dead. But there he was, standing in the middle of her small, messy apartment in the middle of bum-fuck-where-the-hell-do-you-live-again Wyoming. His robes even glimmered lowly under the artificial white light of her living room, no evidence of a Bloodwraith attack left. He held his arms out wide towards her patiently.

“That’s what you said in the last dream too…” she replied quietly, taking a few careful steps towards him. As bewildered as she was, she was always respectful in her dreams of him, especially when they didn’t involve his death being replayed over and over again. A part of her never wanted to wake up whenever she got the pleasant ones. To her surprise, what she thought was an apparition reached out and enveloped her in his warm arms, and she knew instantly from the wholeness in her chest it was real. Her arms found his waist and she hugged him back desperately, tears running down her face for the second time that night. They stayed that way for God knows how long. Her father simply held her and let her take all the time she needed, and she was grateful for that.

“But...but I don’t understand.” Leah finally pulled away to meet his gaze. “You’re dead. Wait, does this mean I’m also--”

“No, you’re not,” Lord Elric reassured, wiping away a few tears from her mascara-stained raccoon eyes. “But I did come back here as a final gift to you, albeit temporary.”

“Does this mean you’re a ghost?”

“No, we Fae are different. I’m here for a quick visit. I’m touching you, aren’t I?” A rare smile passed over her features before she started crying again, more emotions in her chest that one night than in the previous three months. 

“I’m so happy to see you.” They sat down on her old, lumpy couch. It was strange to her, seeing a Fae lord sitting in her small living room on a couch the most unappealing shade of beige possible, even if he was her father. He sat up straight and addressed her, never letting go of her hands.

“It brings me great joy just to see your face again, my daughter. I needed to come see you tonight.” She winced at his words, wishing that she hadn’t gone out that night. Her father deserved better than seeing her in some trashy club dress that she hadn’t bothered to take off before flopping on her bed alone. She ran a hand through tangled, dirty hair in a pathetic attempt to smooth it out.

“But, Father…why are you here? Wouldn’t it be a better use of your time visiting Lady Thalissa or anyone else watching over Lamrian?” Leah questioned, guilt threatening her consciousness for the billionth time since Lord Elric died and left Lamrian for Lady Thalissa to get back on its feet. Her kind, loving stepmother was unfortunately on her long list of people she couldn’t face.

“I’m here because I wasn’t able to be your father for very long on Earth, but I’m now able to be your father for a little bit now.” A warm yet sad smile was etched on his face, and his gaze became reproachful. “May I offer you some guidance? You seem lost.”

Leah sighed; her life was such a wreck that her father literally came back from the dead temporarily just to tell her that. Great. “You’re not wrong. This probably wasn’t what you had in mind when you found out you had a daughter. I didn’t tell you that my life is really just a useless degree and a dead end job in Wyoming and that I don’t really speak to my mother, so she doesn’t know that I know about you. I’m sorry for disappointing you.”

“Leah, you’re my daughter and I love you. You could never disappoint me.” Elric stroked her hair, affection crystal clear in his actions. “I don’t care what job you have, as long as it fills you with joy, and I can see this doesn’t. And I loved Jacqueline, but I can understand why you’re not ready to speak with her.”

“This job...hell, this entire life...doesn’t give me joy. And I don’t know what to do about it. I don’t know what I wanna do with my life! It’s pathetic; I’m 25 and have absolutely no direction as to where my life is going!” At that point she knew she was most likely still drunk, since the words spilled out like a waterfall. “Oh and can I just say that you’re the only one that gets this isn’t just about Nik? I was already thinking of leaving my job even before I went to New Orleans! My life doesn’t revolve around a man!”

Elric nodded, listening intently to her babbling. “So then what changed?”

“I died.” She hated saying that. “I literally died. And I don’t exactly know how I came back to life. I’m getting really tired of my existence being a mystery. I’m just...tired. I wanted to go back to my life before I found out monsters were real, but I feel absolutely nothing.”

“You feel...nothing?”

“It’s hard to explain. I try to feel something, anything,” she continued to confess. “But I can’t...at least, not since I came back.”

“My daughter,” Elric began and squeezed her hands. “You can’t run away from what happened. You can’t run away from who you are.”

“But I don’t even know who I am anymore! A half-Fae who apparently can die and come back to life but can’t use my damn powers?!” she replied, agitated and stone cold sober at that point. 

“But you do know. You do know deep in your heart who you are and what you want, and how you’re going to get it.” Elric met her gaze again more firmly, and she squeezed his hands tighter, sensing that their time together was almost out. “It’s a matter of if you are willing to follow your heart. And I know that my daughter is strong and willing. All I want is for you to be happy; that’s all. I hope you let Thalissa know I love her and will wait patiently for her.”

“I don’t know if I can ever go back to Lamrian. It hurts too much since you’ve been gone.”

“That’s okay. But I hope you know that you will always have a home in Lamrian.” Elric’s form started to become thinner and more transparent, his hands gaseous and cold as Leah desperately tried to hold on for a little bit longer. “I love you, Leah.”

She choked on her own tears. “I love you too, Father.”

Eventually his form completely dissipated, and he returned to being only a memory in the deep recesses of her mind. Her apartment was cold and empty again, but her chest felt warm, alight with a new resolve. Leah heaved herself off her couch and opened her laptop.

==============================================

‘Leah...this is fucking ridiculous, even for you.’ The plane landed in Louisiana a few hours later. Leah hastily typed out an email to her boss that she needed to fly out of town for a sudden death in the family, knowing that it probably wouldn’t matter anyway if she decided to keep wrestling down that all too rational voice in her head and face all her fears. She checked her phone as the taxi took her to her last-minute motel, the streets of New Orleans whizzing past her like the reel of an old movie. She briefly considered texting Katherine and Cal that she was in town, but there was one stop she had to make before doing anything else.

“Best to rip the Band-Aid off first,” Leah muttered to herself after dropping her luggage off at her motel and making her way to what she heard was the best tavern in town. The door clinked open and she took a spot at the bar next to what looked like a man and a woman conversing with an equally human bartender. But she knew better.

The bartender quickly excused himself to serve his next customer, and his eyes widened in shock as he saw Leah’s face. “Leah?”

“Leah!” Ivy noticed her, squealed, and pulled her into a hug. Krom waved shyly as Garrus beamed, his hands flying to make a concoction for her. “Long time no see! How have you been?”

“Honestly…” Leah felt extremely awkward yet happy to be talking with the three supernatural beings she called friends. “Really shitty. Like, super shitty. So shitty that I’m running back to the place that literally killed me once and I don’t even have a job or plan. My life is already a series of bad decisions, so this is pretty in character for me.”

Garrus smiled and slid a pink-purple-blue-sparkle drink to her. “Well, at least you now have a drink at the best bar in town! Ever thought about bartending? That’s why you came here first, right?”

“Not that this isn’t the best bar in town,” she said as she took a sip, the alcohol immediately going to her head. “But I’m actually here for a reason. This is going to sound really, really weird considering what happened...but I need to talk to Nik.”

“My mortal…” Garrus’ handsome face suddenly looked faraway and mournful. Leah held her breath, preparing for the worst. “He’s been working...a lot. More than usual, I’m afraid. Never has time to spend with his old buddies here. And he always looks so sad, so tired.”

Ivy interjected. “We tried talking to him a few times, but he’s always so angry now too. Once I made the mistake of mentioning you and that Bloodwraith looked like a puppy in comparison.”

“He says he’s fine, but he’s clearly not,” Krom’s timid voice rang out from the next stool over, and he placed one of his stone hands over Garrus’. “He actually reminds me of me when I broke up with my ex.” 

Yikes. None of that sounded good. Leah felt immediately responsible and she sagged down on her stool. Her hands found her head, and she pushed her hair back, fighting the urge to yank on her strands in punishment. “Does he still live here? I need to at least apologize.”

“Yes he does, and I think he’s coming back from a job soon.” Garrus walked from behind the bar to the stairs leading up to Nik’s loft. He pulled out a key and unlocked it. Leah raised an eyebrow.

“Uhhh isn’t that...illegal?” ‘And really creepy?’ 

The Fae shrugged. “We supernatural don’t really follow the laws of the human world. Now go inside and wait for him.”

Ivy and Krom each sent her an encouraging grin and she walked up to his apartment. When she closed the door behind her, she immediately noticed how the apartment looked exactly the same as how she left it, but with less upkeep. Leah wordlessly picked up a cracked plastic curtain rod on the ground, surprised that it was still in the apartment, let alone still on the ground. She smiled and set it back down, remembering the first time she woke up in his weird, wonderful apartment.

Leah sat on the same couch and practiced in her head what she was going to say to him. Butterflies soared in her stomach as she waited in anticipation. At some point she turned the lights off since the light was worsening her headache. But minutes soon turned into hours, and she was eventually fast asleep, the past few days catching up to her. It was only when she heard the shout of a veteran Nighthunter and clang of a crossbow dropping to the ground that she woke up.

Brown eyes met another pair of brown eyes that coupled with a sheepish, awkward half-grin. “...Hi, Nik.”

==============================================

A/N: Surprise, I’m alive! So sorry this took so long; school has been keeping me busy and I’m still trying to strike a balance. (I say as I post this at 2am after being at school for 14 hours today.) As always, all feedback is welcome and appreciated. Hope you guys enjoyed it and the next update should hopefully be out sooner than this one rolled out!

Tagging: @furiouscloddonutpeanut @nighthunterkatherine @saivilo @samara-rani @god-save-the-keen  @xxdangerouscapri15xx @inlovewithrebels

[thedistantstorm]

Come Together 03

Fandom: Destiny

Pairing: Devrim Kay/Marc

Warnings: ridiculous romancing, cursing, smut (this one is a bit nsfw)

“A young city planner set his eyes on an older militiaman. He was unkempt and terribly forward. The militiaman had class. He wasn’t interested.”

“Clearly,” Marc tells their friends. “That’s why they decided to get married.”

(A story told in bits and pieces.)

Chapters: 01 | 02

-/

Marc kisses with what he calls passion, but it's lacking finesse. Every flick of his tongue is done insistently, desperate for more, downright sloppy in Devrim's estimation. Devrim himself might have gone a minute without a significant other, but Marc doesn't strike him as a man who goes long between relationships without a plaything. This is either a ploy or he's sorely in need of proper coaching.

He's social, his nights start out with a group, and if he's lucky, ends mano-a-mano. Not that he doesn't enjoy a night in - clearly. That's why he's nudging Devrim's head back against his sofa and pretending like he isn't thinking about straddling the older man while he curls up beside him.

Devrim lets him guide things, waiting, seeing how far the younger of them wants to push. He can't deny that there's a certain wantonness to how eager Marc is for it.

There's a moment when he's panting into Devrim's neck that the militiaman brushes his knuckles down the side of Marc's throat and he whines, high and sweet.

"Fuck," Marc curses, nipping Devrim in retaliation, but not hard enough to bruise. He's learning, Devrim thinks to himself. Perhaps he isn't as hopeless as he'd thought. "Fuck, I wanna see you under me."

Well. That's not what Devrim was expecting.

Determined not to have this conversation - it's been three weeks, this is not ending in the bedroom - Devrim lets his hand drift down Marc's side and to his hip, lacing a finger through his belt loop and giving a little tug.

The barest insinuation has Marc climbing atop him, careful not to grind down. Devrim fixes that with another innocent touch down his spine, hands splaying on Marc's lower back like it's commonplace. He allows himself a throaty groan when their sexes grind against each other, casually threads his fingers through Marc's hair. Tugs.

He comes undone immediately, his brows pulling together, eyes fluttering shut and rolling back into his head all at once. 

Devrim chuckles when Marc slumps against his shoulder, giddy and breathless. He whacks the other side of partner's chest with the back of his hand. "What're you laughing about?"

"I thought that might have been an erogenous zone," Dev deduces aloud.

"Sorry to be predictable, but it clearly was," He huffs, sans bravado.

"No disappointment here. That face you made was worth any frustration I'll suffer." 

Marc rolls off him, flopping bonelessly against the couch. "Really, you don't want-"

Blue eyes pin him where he lies, sparkling with amusement. "It's fine." Marc slumps gratefully into the cushions. It earns him a real laugh. Devrim manages despite it, "You - heh - you look like you could use some time to recover."

Marc kicks his thigh but doesn't move, and Devrim only laughs louder.

-/

Their next foray comes after an expensive dinner - Devrim knew French, so Marc couldn't surprise him with frog legs like very obviously been hoping. Every time Devrim speaks in the love language, he watches Marc's pupils dilate. The lower he speaks, the more the effect becomes immediate. He drags them back to his flat - a fancy high-rise in the Peregrine District.

A combination of that, excellent wine, a very romantic jazz ensemble in the corner of the restaurant, and the rapidly deepening kiss Devrim bestows upon him in the elevator has Marc keyed up, hands nearly fumbling his keys.

He lets them drop to the floor with a clatter, not bothering to turn on the lights when they enter, pushing Devrim against the back of the door and sinking to his knees.

"I owe you," He whispers up at him, letting his fingers trail up the musculature of Devrim's thighs before hovering over his belt buckle.

"That seems to be the case," Devrim agrees, swallowing thickly.

Marc makes short work of his trousers, pushing them down his hips before tracing his rather interested erection through his pants. Devrim sighs when he gives up the ghost and pulls them down too, licking his palm and wrapping it around his partner's hot, velvety flesh, guiding him into his mouth without further ado.

For a man so usually impatient, Marc takes his time, swirling his tongue around Devrim's tip, being mindful of how to inflict a guttural groan, what makes him clench his fists at his sides, or tip his head back against the wall. He lingers at the parts Devrim seems to enjoy, drawing them out, letting the sensation build. 

As he approaches his peak, Devrim tries to warn him, but Marc is insistent, palming his rear instead and forcing the gentleman to come down his throat with a muttered "fuck!"

"You like that?" He asks after, smirking as Devrim takes a moment, breathing hard, leaning against the door.

"I'll admit," Devrim says with a sigh, "That was," He clears his throat, breaking off with another heavy sigh as Marc swallows, grinning, making a big show of licking his lips and flashing his teeth.

"You are such a prude," Marc tells him. "Let me guess, you don't return the favor." There's no malice there, Marc's simply pumping him for information. In fact, most of his cheekiness is used to mask his nerves and self-doubt, Devrim notices.

So instead of a direct answer, he puts his clothing to rights, dragging an enraptured Marc to his own sofa and pulls him in close. "I guess you'll find out," He whispers.

Marc shivers.

-/

Devrim accompanies him to a work event, a true mixer this time. He's equal parts over the moon and terrified. Marc has only made one very large mistake since coming to work for the City Planner's office, and that was dating a superior, very early on in his tenure.

The other man has since moved into the private sector, but he's always invited to events like this, and he always makes a pass. It's a superiority thing. And Marc hates it with a passion.

Usually he gets nice and obliterated, then carries on happy-go-lucky like nothing has changed. The obliteration becomes a small bender, he has a good greasy meal around noon the next day, then sleeps until Monday morning, wakes up right as rain and pretends like nothing's happened.

But now he has Devrim. The last man he'd brought to one of these… Marc shudders. It was over a year ago, but that had been a breakup he still only remembers in bits and pieces, something about being called an insecure brat and then being dragged to his door by an upset cabby. (He'd made formal apologies to both, after, and took better care to stay just sober enough to make it home.)

The nerves both paralyze him and fuel his ability to consume liquor, and the fact that this party celebrates an eight-month project he'd been the lead on doesn't help. Devrim stays at his elbow, cordial, polite,and dashingly handsome, excusing himself with a hand at the small of Marc's back to go see about hors d'oeuvres for them both.

As luck would have it, that's when his old boss appears. He throws back a shot easy, flashing a toothy smile. Before, it had mostly been about getting flirting, getting Marc riled up, maybe a dance. Now, it was all that and a job proposal.

Marc does his best to be kind but disinterested, and it doesn't have the 'buzz off' effect he's going for. He can't shake the guy before Devrim returns. It's going to be an issue, he stresses internally. Devrim is too polite, he won't make a scene, but he'll be angry later.

He's fucked, Marc thinks. The whole thing is fucking ruined. He knew he should have gone alone, but things were going well and-

Devrim places a hand on the back of his neck, thumb brushing against the edge of his collar and clammy skin.

"I don't believe we've met," He says, effectively interrupting whatever Marc's pursuer is saying, Marc himself hasn't been paying attention: the sound of his heartbeat in his ears is too loud. Devrim extends a hand to the other man. They shake, but before his stupid ex-boss can pull away, Devrim leans in, speaking innocently, "You wouldn't be trying to upset my Marc, now would you?"

His jaw must hang, and it makes his ex laugh. "Wow, you're Marc's new beau," He slaps Marc's shoulder, and the temperature in the room must drop about forty degrees. He finishes the rest of his liquor to keep warm, waving down the bartender for another whiskey while he's asked, "Where'd you find this one, Marcus? The cover of a magazine?"

"Our paths crossed through work," Devrim informs him, his voice mellow, almost light, really. Marc thinks about texting his secretary now, he's going to need until at least Tuesday to drink away all memory of this trainwreck-to-be.

"Oh, how sweet!" He's interested. Of course, the ex is interested. He's always interested. One time, he'd stolen a date from Marc, right in front of his eyes. "What do you do?"

While Marc frames his temples with his hands, leaning over the bar from where he sits on the barstool, Devrim answers, "I'm City Militia."

"Wow." He knows that tone. That's the appraising one he uses to reel someone in.

"It's not all that glamorous, I assure you," Devrim croons, tilting toward the bar. He gestures, "Say, can I get you a drink?" He asks, and Marc feels tears blur his vision.

Fuck, he thinks, on a loop. He's going to need the entirety of next week to get over this. He is not drunk enough to handle this situation. Finishing his new drink in three swallows doesn't help any, either. 

"What do you do with the militia?"

His ex sounds closer now. Marc lets his head drop to the counter, cradled by the cross of his arms. The bartender doesn't ask as she passes with their order, just refills the glass in front of him almost to the top.

"Mostly civilian patrol and Tower duty in peacetime," Devrim says, innocuously. "But," His voice drops an octave and every nerve in Marc's body tingles. "You see, I'm a sniper. The Gentleman Sniper, they call me." Marc dares a bleary look over his right shoulder. Devrim stands between him and the other man, blocking Marc's view entirely. 

"I've always enjoyed the thrill of lining up the perfect shot," Devrim continues. "I have a great deal of patience, not to be taken lightly. There is something to be said for a sniper's observation skills as well. You have to be able to read a situation, understand what your target is thinking." He lifts his drink to his lips and take a sip, smirking, "I am good at that. Good enough to know you've been looking at Marc here for the majority of the evening, and that your decision to approach when I stepped away was more than mere coincidence."

"That's not-" The stammer comes from the other side of Devrim. Marc turns, in time to hear him say, "You're just a plaything to him, that's how he operates."

Devrim chuckles. It's sinister, not sarcastic. "I don't think I am. And even if I were, at least his standards have gotten better." At the resounding silence in their little pocket of the bar, he follows that up with a dismissal. "You have your drink," He nods down to the scotch in the other man's clutches. "Enjoy your evening."

The feather-light touch is back at his nape, and the tears come even easier than when he thought all was lost. He keeps them at bay, but not the tremors they come with.

Instead of giving in though, he finishes his whiskey with a flourish and gives Devrim a grin full of watery bravado.

"Say the word and we'll go," Devrim tells him, gentle as anything, lips at his temple.

"I won't let him ruin my party," Marc says, willing himself to sound like he's still having a pleasant time. He meets Devrim's eyes to prove he's not lying - though he is, through his teeth. "Besides, that was hot. Really hot." That part is true, at least. He didn't feel like a child bring protected. He felt valued, equal. The right kind of belonging. Not something he's used to.

Devrim's ears are pink. It's adorable enough to make him forget his concerns for a moment. "I worried I might have overstepped," He says, rubbing the back of his neck.

"No. That was amazing," He says, honestly. "You're amazing."

-/

Marc gets absolutely annihilated. Devrim isn't expecting anything different. He'd expected such an outcome even without the interference of the inbred idiot who attempted to ruin their evening. He manages to steer him to his own flat before the whole thing goes to hell, but it's close. Marc is weepy the entire way, slurring apologies and self-disparaging commentary.

"You can go," Marc tells him, shoulder bouncing off the wall as he stumbles toward the washroom. "I'll be- oh fuck-"

There's no way he can leave him in this state, either. Not that he's feeling particularly inclined to. He's very much aware that Marc was rattled going into the evening, and now that he knows why, leaving would only feed his insecurity.

Following him into the washroom leaves him in an unpleasant predicament, the younger man expelling alcohol and bile mostly in the direction of the toilet. He's certainly no stylist, but he manages to locate a hair tie and pull Marc's lengthy hair back into a neat-enough ponytail despite his hiccoughing retches. Marc swats at him - in gratitude, Devrim is sure - before returning his grip to the porcelain.

When all is said and done, he's still terribly drunk, but manages to suffer through brushing his teeth. Devrim uses some mouthwash himself and drags his partner to his bed without complication.

In the dark, Marc clings to his hand, staring up at the ceiling. "I'm sorry," He apologizes, frantically. "I never should have-"

"It's alright." Devrim strokes his forehead.

"No, it's not. It's not like that. I used to be like that and maybe - maybe I wanted it to be a fun little tryst when we started, but it's not like that," He rambles, imploring Devrim to believe him. "It isn't, I swear. I don't want you to think I'm just fucking with you, Dev, really, I-" Two fingers are pressed against his lips, effectively cutting him off in the dark. He feels Devrim move, feels strong arms wrap around him, pull him into a solid chest that smells like sandalwood cologne.

"Hush, darling," Devrim tells him. "I know. You gave that up weeks ago."

"I want you to like me," He whines pitifully, tears staining his partner's undershirt. "I don't want you to think it's a game. He said-"

"Whatever that wanker said," Devrim growls firmly, "I promise you, I do not believe. Whomever you might have been when you were involved him, you are not that man now."

"How do you know?"

Devrim kisses him, bringing the arm that's slung over Marc's side up so he can palm his cheek. Tears fall onto his fingers before he pulls back, pressing his lips to Marc's forehead as well.

"Because. You've had plenty of opportunities to push the envelope and you haven't. You've gone out of your way to offer me an out, even tonight, when it was a celebration of your admittedly impressive achievements. All for my comfort." He wipes the tears from Marc's cheeks with his thumb. "I tread carefully into relationships, my dear Marc, I assure you. If I thought you had anything but good intentions you wouldn't have gotten a first date, much less a do-over for what was honestly a heinous outing."

"You're never going to let that go, are you?" He mumbles, but it doesn't sound nearly as sad.

"Not on your life," Devrim assures him. 

He strokes his hair, nudging Marc's crown beneath his chin. "You're going to be hurting in the morning."

"Worth it," He hums. "Sorry in advance for whining. I'm going to be horrible, I can feel it."

"Oh, I think I'll manage."

"What, you gonna leave me alone to suffer?"

"I figured I'd take you to breakfast, assuming you have a shirt that buttons up all the way I could borrow."

[cordytriestowrite]

When I'm Miserable

Loki x Reader

Chapter One - All Other Chapters

Summary: Loki abandons his attempt to rebuild his relationship with Thor after realizing his brother will never fully trust or understand him. He finds himself drawn to a girl, now guardian of her little sister after their mother's sudden death, and tries to teach her the lessons of love, forgiveness, and acceptance before their differences tear them apart.

Salem, Indiana. When you first moved away from the small city and its six thousand residents you hated telling people where you were from.

"Oh, Massachusetts." They would say.

"No, Indiana." You would correct.

"I didnt know there was a Salem in Indiana." They would finish with a confused look on their face before going back to their more interesting California lives.

Now you were back and those conversations ceased to be a staple of introduction, but so many things had also ceased to be discussed. Food, art, culture, current events, all subjects thrown aside in the face of everyone's new favorite topic: what are you going to do?

"How are you going to handle raising your little sister?" They would ask.

"Did your mom leave you anything?" Inquired the snoopers.

"Are you okay?"

And were you okay? What a dumb question. Who would be okay being torn from the beginnings of a life they were building for themselves and coming back to a home without a mother? Who would be ready and to accept guardianship over their little sister and step into a parenting role no one had ever prepared them for?

You took a large sip of your beer, letting the carbonation tickle the roof of your mouth before swallowing around the bitter lump in your throat. It was 4pm on a Monday and you were on your second drink. Your bleary eyes glanced around the room, practically empty save for two older men further down the bar.

You hadn't been old enough to even enter a bar when you last lived in Salem. It felt odd to sit on the rickety wooden stool and think back to a time you desired this, the ability to legally drink in the O'Haimes Tavern and enjoy a Friday night with friends while listing to the live band. Had you been able to tell your teenage self you would end up here on a Monday afternoon to drown your sorrows all alone...

"Thanks for covering for me Rach." A frazzled looking women strolled quickly to your side of the bar, from the back room still trying up her long blonde hair. The other bartender, Rachel, you assumed, nodded sympathetically as she poured a set of double whiskeys for the men down the bar.

"No problem, I know how hard it is to adjust to Jason going back to school."

Your glass had only been a few centimeters off the bar top, which was lucky for you as your grip loosened and it wobbled dangerously before settling in its upright position. The noise brought the two bartenders' attention to you but you couldn't be bothered to care. You fumbled through your buzzed, sluggish movements into the purse thrown haphazardly into the seat next to you. You grasped your phone tightly and brought it to your face, throat seizing up fully as your sedated mind took in the unread texts and missed phone calls.

Where are you?

Did you forget about me?

Are you okay?!

You tried to keep an air of calm about you as you paid your bill and exited O'Haimes but you could tell by your slight imbalance that you probably didn't fool anyone. You hurried along the sidewalk as fast as your wobbly ankles would carry you, the edge of Salem High School's property revealing itself a few blocks later. You couldn't help but mumble to yourself as you made your way around the wide chain-link fence to the school entrance.

"Please be there. Please be there. Please be there."

And there she was, looking put out and pouty sitting on the blue bench just to the left of the front doors. She was on her phone and hadn't yet noticed you so you slowed down and straightened your spine. The walk had sobered you enough to put on that mask of calm you couldn't conjure at the bar.

As you got closer she still didnt notice you, too absorbed in her phone to look up. You shook your head and smiled. Her generation was so lucky to have cell phones to entertain them while they wait, all you had was-

Your thoughts stuttered to a stop as a tall man appeared from around the corner and sat next to your sister. He was close to her, his head bent towards her, and she looked up at him and smiled. He smiled back and you could feel a wave of protective instinct wash over you like a cold shower. Your pace quickened until you were in a full on sprint.

"Amanda." You said so loudly and forcefully you practically barked your sister's name like an order. Both your sister and the man next to her looked up in surprise. You raced up the steps, your once unreliable equilibrium steadied by an alert, on-edge version of soberness.

"Finally!" She exhaled dramatically, like your tardiness was exhausting. She tucked her phone into her back pocket as she rose from the bench.

The man next to her stood as well. He looked impossibly tall next to your little sister, all short and fragile looking. You took a step closer to the man and squared your shoulders. While you still had to tilt your chin to look him in the eye you were not at the same height disadvantage as your sister.

"Hello there-" he began before you cut him off with a solid, clear tone.

"Stay away from her."

"I beg your pardon?" He asked. His accent startled you for a moment, so unlike all the midwestern accents wriggling in your ears since coming home last month. You blinked twice to regain your focus and your resolve.

"Stay away from my sister. She's under age. Did you know that, pervert?"

"I'm well aware-" he started, adjusting his glasses, but this time his words were interrupted by Amanda's profuse apologies, her hand on your arm pulling you back down the stairs and away from the well dressed, bespectacled threat before you. You maintained eye contact, harsh and defiant, until you reached the first step down and were forced to turn or risk falling down the four concrete steps and make a fool of yourself.

"What were you thinking?!" Amanda shrieked as she continued to pull you by the arm. You turned back to catch a glimpse of the man as you turned the corner but he was gone.

"A grown man should not be hanging around a high school preying on teenage girls." You stumbled slightly but caught your footing. Looking back you found the block of sidewalk slightly raised. It had snagged the tip of your shoe as you took a step. You sent your glare down, ready to take a larger step upon arrival of the next uneven slab.

"He's the librarian. Hanging around the school is kind of his job. You would have known that if you weren't drunk."

You stumbled despite the level ground beneath you at your sister's words. She slowed down and finally let go of your arm, only to fold hers across her chest and glare at you with a disgusting amount of judgement.

"Is that why you were late? You were drinking in the middle of the day again?" She wasn't expecting an answer because she already knew what she was saying was true. You knew what would come next as well, it was the same argument as last time and the time before that.

"You're going to die on me too if you don't cut it out. You'll get in an accident or drown in your own vomit or destroy your liver and-"

"I know Amanda," you sigh heavily and pinch the bridge of your nose, eyes closed so you didn't have to see her face. "I know."

"And now you're ruining my life. Mr Loki is really nice and now he's going to look at me like everyone else does." While her voice began loudly and passionately it trailed off into quiet uncertainty. Your ears pricked up and your vision sharpened, a different kind of safeguard mindset than the one you had earlier against this Mr Loki. You had to protect her from herself now, those thought of self doubt that consume and devour from the inside.

"How does everyone look at you?"

"They look at me like my mom just died. Like I'm helpless. They all pity me." A sob bubbled out like a punctuation at end her statement. You reached for your sister, so young and fragile and in no way undeserving of the looks and the glances she must be catching, and pulled her into a tight hug. You rocked her back and forth so severely her feet had to lift and fall in time to your swings to keep you both from toppling to the ground.

"I'm sorry." You murmured into her hair, "I'm sorry for a lot of things."

She said nothing but held on to the back of your shirt like her life depended on it. You pulled her back by her shoulders so she could see your face with its reassuring smile and kind eyes.

"Tomorrow I will come pick you up on time and apologize to Mr Loki."

"Sober?"

"As sober as a judge." You promised. She reached her fist between your chests and extended her pinky. You wrapped your own around it and kissed your thumb. She did the same. Your journey home continued after that, side by side you strode leisurely and your mind wandered back to the front steps of Salem High School and its librarian.

"Amanda?" You started. She hummed in response to show she was listening.

"What kind of name is Mr Loki?"

She laughed loudly and it reminded you of your mom's laugh when she found something surprisingly amusing. Your stomach flipped at the similarity and at the fact that you would never hear them laugh at the same time like that ever again.

"Apparently he was named after some Norse god or something. It's a weird name right?"

You both giggled and ducked your heads against a gust of wind then walked the rest of the way home in companionable silence.

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[drreporting]

Puppy Love Pt.10

Amelia.

I’m not going to deny that I like Owen, I always have; ever since we first met, actually. But I really liked Ryan. I also don’t think Owen seemed very interested in me after our failed attempt at hooking up, because he never made any further advancement after it. Maybe he was afraid of the repercussions or something, I don’t know, but I gave up on that venture once I realised he obviously wasn’t interested. Clearly my heart hadn’t given up on that venture.

The more platonic I became with Owen, the more intimate I became with Ryan. And that arrangement seemed to work out okay, up until I met Becca. My feelings about that were as confusing as the location of my prescription pad.

Owen started dating this doctor two weeks ago, soon after he stopped coming over so much. A trauma surgeon like him, but I hated her; she was so perky and two dimensional. I wasn’t jealous or anything. Hey, I said I wasn’t jealous. It just made no sense that he’d go from hanging out with me to dating that. I had way more layers than that perky, freckled, red head girl. Anyway, it’s whatever. I don’t care.

On to Ryan. Ryan is virtually perfect, even though he works a job he’s way too overqualified for. There is literally nothing wrong with him that would ever push me into Owen’s arms, but here I am, hoping that he cheats on me, yet knowing that I’d be heartbroken if he did. I love Ryan. I love Ryan more than I loved James in the two years we were dating and the five months we were engaged, which is sad when you think about it. The thing I can’t figure out is if I love Owen more than I love Ryan. And vice versa.

---

I’m in the Attendings’ Lounge making a list of pros and cons between Owen and Ryan. Don’t judge me; this is the only solution I can think of.

On one side of the paper is Ryan’s name. Under his pros and cons, I’ve listed a number of things about him.

Ryan

Pros: Kind. Funny. Dog lover. Cute. Caring. Great sex. Ambitious. Can cook.

Cons: Arrogant at times. Possessive. Short tempered. A little secretive about his friends and whereabouts. His dog eats my prescription pages sometimes.

On the other side, I write Owen’s name and I find myself writing down almost the same things I wrote for Ryan.

Owen

Pros: Kind. Funny. Dog lover. Cute. Caring. Ambitious. Can cook. Great drinking buddy and high friend.

Cons: Arrogant. Possessive at times. Short tempered. Rather dominant.

It’s apparent to me now why I’m having such a hard time choosing between the two. I add has red hair to Owen’s pros. Then I remember he has a big…

“What are you doing?” I hear a dark voice ask.

I basically jump out of my skin, quickly turning the page over and covering it with my hands before looking up to see the devil himself. “Holy shit, Owen. Don’t do that.”

He leans against the table and smiles at me. “What are you writing?”

“It’s nothing,” I murmur, folding the paper. He seems to still be curious about the paper, so I change the subject. “Tonight’s movie night.” Or, at least it used to be. We haven’t hung out at all in a couple weeks.

“Sure it is,” he chuckles as he goes to the kitchen to get a cup of coffee.

“Let’s go out and drink tonight instead,” I say as I stick the piece of paper in my back pocket.

He eyes me suspiciously. “What about your boyfriend?” That’s the first time he’s said anything remotely appropriate regarding naming Ryan.

“He’s in LA for the next two days,” I say. I sound like I’m in one of those movies where my husband is out of town and I call up my secret lover to come over or one of those other movies where I’m in an abusive relationship and my partner has to be out of town for me to really be carefree. His dark blue eyes analyse mine and, for a moment, my heartrate increases with the way he’s staring so deeply at me. “Cancel on Becky,” I pressure him.

“Becca,” he corrects me, shaking his head and smiling, “And who is frying pan visiting?”

“Ryan is visiting his mother,” I correct him now.

His suspicious smirk slowly turns into a soft smile. “Okay, 9pm.”

“Great,” I say, leaving before he can remind me that he isn’t drinking vodka. Owen and vodka aren’t friends, not after the night he mixed it with tequila and led us to the beach, where he almost fell off the dock.

“And I’m not drinking anything with vodka in it,” he adds as I leave the room.

“Whatever you say,” I call back.

---

“We are losers,” Owen says as he downs his sixth consecutive tequila shot. He came an hour late because of an emergency, so now he’s playing catch up.

“How are we losers?” I hiccup as I watch him slam the shot glass down on the table.

“We’re drinking on a Monday night,” he explains, “There’s literally no one else here in this bar.”

“Not true,” I counter, my eyes slowly scanning the bar, “There’s a guy drinking over there. Not to mention our favourite bartender is here too.” The guy a few seats over looks familiar, but everybody looks familiar when I’m drunk.

“Our favourite bartender?” he exclaims, “You mean your favourite bartender that has a crush on you.”

“He does not have a crush on me,” I deny. We banter for another half hour or so until Owen can no longer hold his head up for long. At some point, I climb onto the table and sit, letting my legs hang off the edge.

“Look,” Owen says, jerking his head in the guy’s direction, “The bartender is watching you again.” I look to my side and see that Owen’s right, he’s looking at me. But once he realises I’m looking at him, he quickly averts his gaze to a glass he’s shining and blushes. I call him over and whisper in his ear for him to hand us the entire bottle of fireball. Confirming Owen’s theory that he likes me, the bartender hands us the entire bottle without hesitation.

“I didn’t think he’d give it to me,” I say in a bit of disbelief.

“See? He likes you,” Owen chuckles, taking the bottle from me. He swallows some of the golden liquid while my secret admirer disappears into the back of the bar.

“Are you jealous?” I tease him, kicking the side of his thigh with my left boot. I then go to stand up on the table; don’t ask me why. It seemed like a good idea at the time.

He looks like he’s about to tell me something, but instead he smiles and stares drunkenly at me before shaking his head. “Come off the table.”

“No,” I say like a child in protest, “I like standing on the table; it makes me taller than you.”

“There’s a sign right behind you that says no standing or sitting on the bar table,” he tells me.

‘It’s just a sign.”

“Come off the table, Amelia.” The warning tone of his voice makes me wonder why exactly he wants me off the table; because I’m breaking rules or because I’m tempting him?

Sober Amelia tells me to stop being silly and just come off the table, but drunk Amelia sits down directly in front of Owen, her legs on either side of him. Drunk Amelia slips off the table and into his lap to straddle him. Drunk Amelia opens her stupid fucking drunk mouth and says, “I’m off the table now. Happy?”

Owen doesn’t look happy at all. His ears are red, his jaw is tightened and he’s staring so hard at me that he looks constipated. For a moment, I feel small under his gaze. But then I see his eyes dart to my lips and I know he’s thinking the same thing I’ve been since the moment I met him.

“Amelia…” he whispers in a condescending tone. My heart is thumping in my chest as my eyes dart to his wet, rosy lips, watching the way they move when he says my name, the way they’re slightly parted as he breathes out, the way his golden stubble glistens under the dim lights of the bar as he talks, slightly covering his top lip. He’s saying something about a bad idea, but I’m not listening because I’m trying to convince every atom of my being not to kiss him, so I just nod as if I’m listening. I put my face closer to his until our noses are touching, my hands grabbing onto the collar of his shirt for balance. That’s when he finally shuts up. I wait to see his response, hoping he’ll stop me and hoping he won’t. His dilated blue eyes dart to the space in between our lips and, before he can give me another reason on why this is a bad idea, a reason I probably won’t listen to, I pull on his shirt and close the gap, kissing him. Our mouths fit together like two puzzle pieces, like we’ve been kissing for years. My heart picks up a pace faster than when I run as our tongues brush against one another. He wraps his arms around my lower back and I can feel the heat radiating off of him, through his shirt. He tilts his head to deepen the kiss and I feel his lips tug on my bottom lip as his tongue brushes across it in a way that feels like he’s drawing shapes on it. Before I can even stop it, a low moan escapes the depths of my throat and I push him away when I feel his fingers going under my shirt. His entire face is red now, and his lips are a darker red than before as we both struggle to catch our breath. No words pass between us as we stare at each other.

Hurricane Amelia nukes her relationship yet again.

[a-tired-bitch]

You Should Know Better Pt.15

23 Parts:  I  -  II  -  III  -  IV  -  V  -  VI  -  VII  - VIII  -  IX  -  X  -  XI  -  XII  -  XIII -  XIV  -  XV  -  XVI  -  XVII  -   XVIII  -  XIX  -  XX  -   XXI  -  XXII  -  XXIII

MASTER LIST

YSKB MASTER LIST

Summary: Relaxing at a bar, Joe and Dustin shoot the shit until an unexpected bar-goer arrives.

POV: Josephine

Characters: Joe Merriweather, Dustin Ayers (Indented), Claire Merriweather (Indented Italics), and everyone’s favorite dog, Duke

Word Count: 2800ish

Author’s Note: I present you with everyone's new favorite character, Claire Merriweather. This also takes place a day after the last chapter.

Quote:  “For fucks sake, I should have known better.”

Tuesday night rolled around and the low humming of people chatting away along with the clinking of bottles and mugs filtered throughout the busy bar.

Working Monday’s and Wednesday’s as a professor and Thursday’s through Sunday’s as an officer, the only real time Joe had the chance to blow off some steam and attempt to relax was on Tuesday’s. However, it still wasn’t enough - both professions began to weigh down on him.

Leaning forward, Joe's forearms rested against the cool, smooth surface of the wooden bar, his eyes focused on the droplets of condensation that raced down his mug while his ears tuned in and out of the ramblings of Dustin.

“I’m telling you, Josephine, by the time I get to be your age, I’m either going to be one of those cops that eat donuts all day and has one of those cliche mustaches, whose had five hernias and three slipped disks or I’m going to turn in my twenty years, retire, and then teach at a local college because I have nothing better to do with my time like a certain someone I know.” Smirking and side-eying his friend, he gripped his beer bottle, bringing it to his lips and taking a swig from it.

Bringing his mug to his lips, Joe paused, lifting a brow as he turned to look at his friend. “Did you seriously just call me ‘Josephine’?”

Swallowing, Dustin proudly shook his head. “Out of all the things I just said, you picked up on that?” He asked, his tone playful. “But you’re damn right, I sure did.”

“No, out of all the things you just said, I picked up on the most important detail.” Finally sipping from the mug, Joe placed it back down, a satisfying 'ah’ coming from him after swallowing.

“You know,” Dustin shook a finger at him “you can be a real dick sometimes.”

Joe grinned, shrugging his shoulders. “It’s one of my hidden talents.” Staring into the mirror behind the bar, Joe watched as Dustin stared right back at him, his head shaking, a smile resting on the younger man's face.

Swiveling around, Dustin rested a forearm on the bar while his hand clutched his bottle, resting the container on his thigh. “How’s your office doing?”

Pretending to be confused, Joe furrowed his brow, his eyes resting on the mug before him. “What do you mean how is my office?”

“When I surprised you yesterday with coffee and donuts because I am such a good friend, there was this musty odor in there. If you ask me, smelled like sex.” A smug smirk claimed Dustin’s lips before disappearing as he drank from his bottle.

It was almost as if his heart dropped into his stomach after hearing what Dustin had to say. In all honesty, Dustin wasn’t wrong about the smell, but of course, Joe wasn’t willing to admit to the source of the smell. After all, Dustin was under the impression that Joe was 'banging the mom’ of his student and Joe planned on keeping that impression alive…for now at least.

Joe brought the mug back to his lips, swallowing more of the cold liquid than he expected to - he needed a moment to calm down after Dustin’s comment.

“Smelt like sex?” He questioned, shaking his head. “Because I’m totally having sex in my office, but shit, wait, hold on, who would I be sticking my dick in? My fellow colleagues because that’s the only plausible choice,” his tone sarcastic as can be even though he was lying through his teeth.

Roughly slapping his shoulder, Dustin burst out in laughter. “Calm down, pal, I’m just busting your balls. No need to get all pissy.” Quieting down, his eyes wandered around the establishment, scanning the occupants. “I mean, it isn’t the only plausible choice. Merriweather could be banging a female student or you could get with the daughter and the mother, but, that’s kinda weird.”

With eyes boring into Dustin, Joe bit down on his cheek, slightly annoyed by all the banter.

Pulling his sights away from the seated crowd, Dustin locked eyes with Joe, his aura suddenly changing. He had much experience with this certain look and he knew he was walking a thin line now. “Or, you know, you could be banging no one at all. You’re not that stupid. You wouldn’t have sex with anyone in your office anyways.”

“There you go, Dustin, thinking with your head and not your ass. I’m very proud of you, son.” Joe joked, glad the issue was slowly blowing over.

Time slowly passed and Joe was on his second mug while Dustin blew threw another two bottles. Joe was due to lecture the following day while Dustin had the day off, allowing for his partner to drink more since he knew Joe would sober enough to drive the both of them home.

“I’m liking the whole black on black on black combo on you,” Dustin looked over Joe. “You sure look different in a leather jacket and jeans as opposed to your ironed button up and slacks” Flagging down the bartender, he motioned for some shots. “Keep ‘em coming too.”

Astonished by his stupidity, Joe glanced in his direction. “The fuck you mean? Our uniforms are black…on black…on black.”

Watching as the bartender placed the amber filled glasses before Dustin, Joe shook his head. “You downing those on your own or am I supposed to help?”

Narrowing his eyes, the blond-haired man ran a hand along his cheek. “You’ve got a point. They are black, but you get what I mean.” Downing the last few sips of his beer, he turned his attention to the shots. “Well, you’re driving and have to fill those brains with your precious knowledge tomorrow, so, I don’t expect you to keep up with the young guns, but one, maybe two couldn’t hurt since you can usually hold your alcohol.”

Sucking on his teeth, it only took a second for Joe to come to his decision - there was no denying that Joe was a fan of alcohol when the chance presented itself. “You’re lucky it’s a Tuesday night and not a Monday night because you know from experience that I’d drink you under the table.”

Pulling a shot towards their bodies, the two men, in harmony, lifted the glasses and downed the amber liquid, repeating the process once more.

“Now, as a man who attempts to uphold the laws of the land, I’m going to have to strongly advise you that you stop drinking now.” Cocking his head back, Dustin swiveled around in his chair, a chain of laughter cascading out of his mouth. He stared at the door that was slowly being opened, two brunettes and a blonde walked through the door. Shaking his head out, his eyes widened as he focused on the blonde. “Oh fuck,” he whispered under his breath, quickly swiveling back around and lowering his head. “And as a man who is your dearest friend, I highly and I mean highly suggest that you don’t turn around and that we leave.”

Sliding the empty glasses away, Joe glanced at Dustin, confused by his comments and his posture - it was like he was trying to hide from someone.

“What do you mean?” He questioned, looking into the mirror, scanning the people behind him only to find no one of interest.

“Last time I checked, I don’t have a stuttering problem.” Dustin quickly glanced over his shoulder, watching the women chat amongst themselves. “Don’t look to your left.”

Confused, yet interested by the strange situation, Joe straightened in his stool. “Why? Who’s here?” Taking the responsibility to answer the question on his own, Joe turned to his left, his eyes scanning the bodies until they landed on the person Dustin was more than likely speaking about.

Freezing, Joe watched the woman who he had once called his wife, mingle with her friends. He looked her over, his eyes resting on a ring that claimed the finger he had once claimed with his own. His eyes lingered for just a moment before she turned in his direction. “Oh shit,” he muttered, tearing his sights away from the woman and turning back around.

“You dumbass,” Dustin scolded, slapping the back of his head. “Told you not to look over there you.”

Glaring at Dustin, Joe began to grind his teeth, his eyes looking away and at the mirror in his sights.

It was obvious Claire had noticed him, it was apparent since Joe watched in the mirror as she made her way towards him - his body tensing as she inched closer and closer.

         “Joesph Derek Merriweather.” Claire’s hand glided up his back until it rested on his shoulder. “Surprised to see you here.” Standing between the two seated men, Claire glanced at Dustin. “Nice to see you, Dustin, it’s been a while,” her right hand coming up to pat the man’s shoulder.

Joe winced at Claire’s touch. “Claire,” he whispered, his eyes opening once her hand rested on his shoulder. “By the ring on your finger, guessing you moved on fairly quickly. Hate to say it, but I kind of feel sorry for the bastard that gave it to you.”

       Removing her hand from Dustin and placing both of them on each of Joe’s shoulders, she leaned into his ear. “Don’t feel sorry for yourself, Joe. You and I are still married.”

In that exact moment, all the air from Joe’s lungs escaped, it was as if someone decked him right in the ribs. He couldn’t move, he was frozen. He couldn’t speak, he was at a loss for words. He couldn’t blink, his eyes were locked on his reflection in the mirror.

When she leaned away from him, his frozen trance came undone. “Wait, what?” You and I signed the papers a week ago. What the fuck do you mean we’re still married. I swear to fucking god, Claire, if you —.”

         “Don’t even start with the false threats, Joe, I’m far too used to them.” Walking to the empty stool next to him, she took a seat. “But just because we signed them in the presence of each other, doesn’t mean the procedure is completed. We’re still married,” she air quoted ‘married’ “until I turn in the papers and the papers are finalized.” She shook her head, false disappointment radiating from her. “Should have been smarter, husband. Should have taken the responsibility of turning them in yourself.”

Covering his face with his hands, Joe slowly shook his head. He couldn’t believe that situation and what she had done. Hopefully, although he lacked any hope in Claire, this was all some sadistic joke she was playing. Sadly, he knew firsthand how much of a conniving, yet clever woman she could be, but this was a whole different level.

“Claire, please, oh, please, tell me that you’re busting my balls right,” his plea was muffled as he slowly moved his hands down his face.

Taking a moment to gather his thoughts, he straightened up, turning to face the blonde. “Look, I know I don’t have much trust in you after everything, but I entrust you to turn those papers in,” he leaned in closer to her, “no, actually, I’m telling you to turn those fucking papers in by the end of this goddamn month. In a few weeks, they will turn void.”

        Smiling, Claire snaked her hand down, resting it on his thigh.

He quickly glanced down at her hand. “Isn’t that what got you in trouble with me? Placing your hands on me?” He gripped her hand, tossing it up on the bar. “Don’t touch me.” He warned.

        Ignoring what he had to say, Claire spoke. “I thought you said you were always three steps ahead of people in thirty different directions, but look at that, looks like you’re three steps behind me in only one direction.” Leaning forward, she grabbed one of the shot glasses. “Not as clever as you portray yourself to be.” She smiled, her icy blue eyes locking with his warm hazel ones. “I’ll be seeing you around, my dear husband.” She added, downing the shot, and standing up, pausing before walking away. “And wait, isn’t that what got you in trouble with me? Drinking?” She said almost mockingly as she walked away.

Watching her strut away for a second, Joe slowly turned back around, a shocked and open-mounted Dustin coming into view.

“Ho-ly shit.” Dustin whispered, a shaky and fake laugh accompanying his response. “What the fuck just happened?” He asked, his eyes still staring at the bar - it was as if he was scared to look up.

Without a single word, Joe reached over, grabbing the three refilled shot glasses.

Downing one, he grabbed the next. Down two, he grabbed the last. Downing the last shot, he grabbed his mug, finishing the rest of the beer. It all happened in a matter of seconds.

“Whoa, pal, take it easy.” Dustin placed a hand on Joe’s shoulder, shaking him slightly. “After all that, in a few minutes, you’ll be in no shape to drive. You know, the quicker you drink, the faster the effects come.”

Joe sat there silently, his face covered by a hand, his eyes closed. Not only on the outside was he fuming, but within, his blood was boiling by the unexpected news.

Digging into his jacket pocket, he searched for his keys, tossing them onto the counter. “Drive,” he muttered to Dustin.

Abruptly taking to his feet, the stool nearly collided with the ground. “Let’s go,” Joe commanded. As he walked away, his eyes locked onto Claire’s until he pulled the doors open and walked outside.

After a 'fuck’, 'shit’, and 'bitch’ filled ride home, the two men finally pulled into the driveway.

Helping a disheveled and belligerent Joe out of the Jeep and up the front door, Dustin followed behind the man, ensuring that if he were to stumble over his feet or fall, he would be able to catch him.

Taking a second to make sure Joe was steady on his feet, Dustin walked around, unlocking the front door and motioning for him to get inside. “You poor bastard,” he muttered, receiving a stern look from Joe.

As barking filled the house, Dustin calmed Duke. “Calm down, super dog. Dusty boy is here taking care you of daddy because your mommy dropped a bombshell on him at the bar.”

“I swear, I’ll drop a fucking bombshell on her if she doesn’t fucking turn in those god damn motherfucking papers.” Joe drunkenly babbled as he cautiously entered his own house, using the walls to keep his balance.

“Yeah, okay, I’m sure you will. Just take it easy bud.” Entering behind his drunken friend, Dustin kneed away a playful and rowdy Duke. “You take it easy too, you runt. I don’t mind getting scratched up, but I’d rather get scratched by a woman than a dog. Full offense, Duke.”

Ignoring the two lovebirds, Joe continued on his way towards the hallway that led to the master bedroom. “Duke, leave him alone, let’s go to bed,” Joe commanded, his speech slurred.

Joe paused to turn and face Dustin one last time. “You can take the couch and spend the night or do whatever, but if you leave, lock the house up. You know where the key is,” he instructed.

“Aren’t you supposed to offer the guest your bed?” Dustin joked, before walking away and over to the fridge. “I’m kidding.”

Joe zoned out for a moment, his sights latching onto the wall beside him. It wasn’t until the slamming of the fridge that Joe looked away, shaking the cobwebs out, and nibbling on his lower lip. 

Turning into the hallway, Joe stopped, his eyes scanning over the pictures that littered the wall. It didn’t take long until his eyes rested on the wedding picture. After a moment, he pulled the frame from the wall, throwing it onto the floor, watching as glass spreading across the wood.

The clash forced Dustin to peek into the hallway, a 'fuck’ echoing throughout the silent house.

Clenching his jaw, Joe stepped over the mess, glass crunching under the weight of his body as he entered his room.

Stripping off his jacket, kicking off his boots, and unbuckling his pants, he fell into bed, a groan coming from his lips as he pulled Duke into his body. “For fuck sakes,” He whispered into the fur of his dog. “I should have known better.”

[gratify-mx]

Flashy Clubber

Request: “smut where you and jooheon go to a party together and get hella drunk and go home together and you both can't keep your hands off each other ;) - thaaank yoou .!”

Genre: fluff / smut

“That night started with a bottle’s finish against my lips and ended with his alcohol-drenched lips.”

The night of Friday was a perfect time to have your senses tingling and euphoria surging into your bloodstream and that was today, in which your friends reminded you about it constantly. It was the only thing you looked forward to ever since Monday started and it was more of a motivation for you.

One of your friends had already reserved some spots for you on a mini gig bar where it was your fist time hearing the said bar. It was called Club Hopper which was located next to Route 66. Local artists and DJs perform regularly at the club and the place is guaranteed to be a heart-throbbing place since they are known for their strobe lights and blaring bass.

You had yourself wear a sleeveless lace up top that matched along with your leather mini skirt and your cream bomber jacket just so to assure yourself what a fashion critic you are. Soon as you reached the said club, you could hear the dissonant music as you stand in line and as soon as you entered you were greeted with a boisterous sound coming through huge sound systems that resonate your entire body, feeling the low thuds of the low frequencies, the bass drum, the bass lines, etc.the whole club was dyes with strobe lights that got accustomed with the beat of the music, escalating the experience. Not to mention the neon signs aligning the walls that varies according to what corner they are in and also the high ceiling that gave way to a balcony upstairs and a long lit up bar just below it. 

You and your companions stride along the sea of individuals just so you could make it on your reserved table which took almost two minutes to get there, although that two minutes allowed you to take in details of the chamber, where the stage was, where the bar was, what the balcony contained and so on. 

Suddenly a staff would offer her assistance to your gang in which your friend took the initiative to claim your reserved spot of the club, it took a while for her to validate her reservation permit until minutes after, the staff would start redirecting to your couch place. Your gang would excitedly follow her assistance up until all of you finally settled. The staff would offer a drink immediately and distributed glasses of shots around the table. 

After an hour or so, the club was packed and the music was louder than before in which you blame it on the assumed effects of alcohol. you took a glance to your gang and they look as dazed as you are, although they were as noisy as the music. You had a glass of tequila a minute ago and now it’s being filled again as it hovered just before your lips.

“Are you enjoying this or not?” Your friend would settle the bottle of tequila down as she laughed at your tinted-red ears and neck. She’d shove then another bottle down her mouth, she didn’t seem to care about your response at that moment as she cut you off to request you get another bottle. You would chug down your drink for a moment and got out from your seat. 

“Got it.” You exclaimed and headed unto the bartender. Your elbows would touch against the table as you leaned forward to talk to the bartender just so he could comprehend your words. The bartender would nod as he would get back unto his prized-shelf of drinks behind the bar. It was amazing how you maintain your balance despite having your vision quite fazed.  You then would revert your back as you faced the packed club. your back would lean against the counter as you watch your gang inviting strangers to your place with arms around their shoulders. Then, a quick figure would shove into you, shifting you off of your position as his height would tower over you with his hand taking a hold of the counter, halting his motion over you.

“Shit, sorry.” his hoarse voice echoed over you as his dark orbs would meet yours. He didn’t seem to look wasted to crash unto you unintentionally and before you could speak, a velvet hair guy would appear, cheekishly smiling as he patted him in the back with an apology afterwards. Well, he’s obviously drunk. You noted as the man would retract his steps back, you would glance over to him as his orbs seemingly glisten and you blame it on the alcohol again. A smirk then would draw unto his lips causing you to ponder why the bartender hadn’t given you yet your alcoholic drink. He would adjust his clothes to make himself look more appropriate a you then would follow.

“Sorry again about that, and I assure you it’s my friend’s fault and no, this is not reverse psychology. I promise.” he’d exclaim with his palm up over gesturing the I’m-innocent indication. 

“You’re cute.” someone would cut in as his friend would hover his hand over you like he was enchanting a spell on you. he would anchor his arm around him as he chuckled.

“Okayy, I’m going. It’s nice to meet you tho and .. yeah, he’s right.” He would snicker as the both of them would head off. you didn’t even got the chance to speak to him. Your orbs would follow them submerge into the crowd until they trail off. Then a tap would disturb you from your gaze as the bartender handed you the bottle. 

“Sorry for waiting, I almost forgot that you ordered.” You then would furrow as you grab hold unto the bottle, unlatched the bottle cap and started to chug down unto the battle.

“god, he’s cute.” you murmured as you enter the crowd. Your vision was worst than before now and you don’t seem to be nowhere near to your booth. You glance around only to be run into someone, you then would shove individuals away whilst consuming your drink in frustration to the point where the bottle’s was half-empty. You then would become photo-sensitive as lights seem to be brighter at this point. The crowd compresses and you were already soaking wet due to it. Then suddenly a hand would grab unto your elbow tightly, causing you to halt into your tracks as you glance over to face the figure. It was him.

“Are you okay?” His voice sounded more husky than before although his composure could still mistake him as sober. 

“I-I’m fine. I was catching up with the cute guy that invited.” you declared as you reverted your gaze over the crowd. 

“The density of the crowd is amazing although I can’t seem to get a guy.” you continued as you start getting flustered at his grip around your elbow to which his thumb was rubbing against your humid skin. 

In another perspective, he remained silent as his eyes was attentively staring unto your nape in which sweat cascades down, highlighting the tinted-red that colored over. He’d follow it roll over the smooth surface of your skin. 

Suddenly, his palm would rest against your waist as he’d pull you over to the very side of the club. You could feel the weight of his lips against your hair as he shifted.

“Wait.. What..!” your eyes widen as your body seem to be unresponsive to loosen yourself from his grasp, your feet were stumbling all over as the both of you unlatched from the mob and you find yourself under the shaded part of the bar. 

“Should I teach you a good method on getting a guy? You have to make them drink.” He murmured just beside your ear as both his palm would rest over your thighs, sending shivers that surge over your body. You could feel his chest against your back as your breathing grew in sync with his as you feel his chest rise and fall. 

“What.. drink? I’ve been doing that already..” You responded as your vision was spinning, this was much worse than being compressed in the horde.

“It’s not only that.” he’d reply as he would grab hold unto your drink, shivering at the contact of your fingers as he effortlessly steal it. He would gulp down unto it and soon after his palm would rest over your cheek and divert your visage before him. Crouching down as he towered over you, his lips pressed firmly against yours, as his thumb would situate against your chin as he tugged down, urging you to allow him access unto your mouth in which you’d permit him to do so easily. A surge of the taste of the alcohol and his tongue infiltrate your mouth. Your eyebrows furrowed as your orbs glanced over his to which was staring at you with a partially covered eyes. His tongue would prevent the alcohol from leaking out as his head would lean in over, as if grasping you by your lips to prevent you from freeing his grip on you. By now, you’ve already gulped down the alcohol and what remains was only his tongue playing against yours. His lips were fervent against yours as the softness of it became an enchantment to you that urged you to kiss back. The kiss became frenzied as he would occasionally lick your lips before plunging back again, tilting his head even just so he could reach deeper. your eyes was tightly closed as you felt his palm against your thigh shift with his fingers spread apart that caressed your skin. He would occasionally raise his fingers just so his nails would stroke the surface of your skin.

Then your lips would part with a huff of breathe coming from him. as your ears grew into a darker shade of red whilst avoiding contact with his eyes. His palm still not leaving their position but his grip was a lot more steady than before.

“Have..... you... Have you been letting others drink this way?” you muttered weakly as you stared down unto the buttons off his jacket. 

He then would place his palm at the back of your head and pulled you closer just enough for him to hover his lips over your ear.

“Shall I stop doing this to other people if you hate it so much?” he mumbled as you would shudder at his statement. He then would free himself from you as if awaiting a response as he would revert his gaze back to the crowd in which he seem to notice someone in the crowd.

“Hey, I think your friends are looking for y--..”

“We’ll be visiting here tomorrow night again.. will you come?” you exclaimed, still with your head down in which he’d crouch down to look at you clearly, his lips were already swollen by the kiss as he drew a cheeky smile, causing his dimples to appear in which looked ridiculous ( cute ) by his tint-red cheeks.

“I’m sober enough to remember that.” he exclaimed as he lunged himself to kiss you again although it was rather a thud as your lips pressed hard against your teeth. Covering your mouth in pain, he chuckled as his palm rested over your head. 

“It’s Jooheon by the way.” he’d exclaim with a smirk as his palm would slip unto his pockets. Soon enough, one of your already-sober friends spotted you and headed over to the both of you whilst calling your name.

“Hey Y/N, It’s time to go. Come on.” She exclaimed as he patted you on the back, looking worried at your agony-like expression. You then would glance back to him as he would gesture a wave, still with that smug smile over his lips.

“See ya.”

Author’s note: I was planning to have it have a part 2. What do you think?

[tomhollandsmainhoe]

The Perfect Affair (TH)

Chapter 1

“Wow. That was by far one of the best movies ever.” I agreed with my best friend B/N.

“Yeah and Tom is definitely such a great Spider-Man.” she replied.

“Back off B/N,” I nudged playfully. “You know as well he’s my boyfriend.”

“You’re not even dating him.”

“Touche, but I can feel the connection. What a shame.”

B/N rolled her eyes. I know it sounds silly, but I have never felt this way about my anyone before. Although I do not know him personally, I can tell that we would at least be great friends.

We had to hurry home because of curfew. I was extremely sad that day because I had to pack my things for college. B/N and I both got into our dream schools. I was going to the east coast but B/N was going to be halfway across the country. I am so lucky to get accepted to a BS/MD program where I receive my degree earlier. I always wanted to major in biology and being a doctor was my dream. I always believed that as a citizen I should contribute to society, regardless how.

As B/N and I bid our farewells, she whispered in my ear.

“If there ever comes a chance, I’ll take Harrison and you can have Tom.”

Laughing and giggling like a hyena, I practiced our secret handshake that we learned from Peter and Ned from Spider-Man Homecoming.

~~~5 months later~~~

School was so stressful. I had so many lectures and classes that I needed to take that I barely had time for myself. I made the typical freshman mistake of taking Monday 8 a.m. classes. So tonight my roommate R/N and I decided to have a girls’ night and release the tension and frustration.

I put on a navy hoodie, black jeans, and simple white sneakers. R/N and I walked into a bar for some fun. I’m not the type of person who drinks underage. It’s not only because I try to follow the rules but it’s because someone in my family had died from alcohol poisoning. R/M and I just swayed to the jazzy music.

“I’d like a virgin drink.” I requested.

“What kind?” the bartender asked.

“Hmm… something sweet.”

“Sure thing, miss.”

I turned my head towards the jazz musicians and looked out for creeps. It was only 10 p.m. so I don’t think there should be too many creepers. Wait where is R/M? I noticed from the other end of the bar R/M was awkwardly walking in her heels. R/M majors in dance and regularly wears heels so it’s odd to see her struggle in the four-inch heels she calls “kitten heels”.

“R/M? Are you drunk?”

“Drunk? I’m not even… runk”.

“Oh!” I took a whiff of her hair. It smelled like tequila and… is that vomit? Ugh. I’m the sober one and have to take care of my drunk roommate. I hate being the “mom of the friend group”. I’ll try explaining the hangover to her tomorrow.

I grabbed R/M’s arm and placed her over my shoulders. Normally she’s really light. But a drunk and slightly asleep R/M would prove otherwise.

“Come on, R/M! We have classes tomorrow! It’s not even close to Friday! It’s only Tuesday! Ugh, why did I choose to come to a bar on a school night? Oh my gosh, I sound like my mother. R/M you weren’t supposed to drink anyway! We’re only 18!”

“You’re 18. I’m 21. I just look young for my age.” she slurred.

“Oh…”

I felt relieved and concerned. It was good that she was of age but I’m worried of what her teacher would say tomorrow. R/M was my best friend at my college. B/N occasionally FaceTime me but the time zones don’t match up and she’s much busier than I am.

I felt something warm covering my feet.

“What? Oh no, is that more vomit?”

“…No.” R/M glanced to the other side.

“You did!”

“Well… yes.”

“How much did you drink exactly?”

“THE ENTIRE BAR!” she sang. I cupped my hand over her mouth. Shoot, I shouldn’t have done that. Why did I do that? My hand smells like tequila and vomit now. Great.

“Excuse me, miss? Do you need a ride?”

I perked my ears up at the foreign accent. Was it British? What could a British person be doing here in the city of C/N?

“No. I just live off of campus.”

“Are you sure? I don’t mind.”

Knowing that I’m walking home in the middle of the night with a stranger offering me a ride, I declined. Especially in this political climate and time of night, the fuckboys and sexual harassers were out to play. Plus it was super dark and I couldn’t make out his face.

“Thanks, but I should get going.”

His voice seemed somewhat familiar. I wanted to at least know what his deal was. What wrong could happen?

“Are you an international student? I don’t think you’re from here.”

“No. I’m here on… business.” he answered flatly.

“Oh? What do you do?”

“I’m in the entertainment industry.”

“Nice. What’s your name?”

“…Stanley.” he responded as if he was unsure.

“Well then… STANLEY.” I emphasized.

“You are?”

“Y/N.”

“Wow that’s a pretty name for such a pretty girl,” he replied as I lightly smiled. “Here’s my number if you need me. I hope your friend here throws up on you more often so I can get to see you more often.”

“…uh, okay?”

Well, that’s a strange way of flirting.

“Can we go home now? Y/N, stop flirting with him!” R/M exclaimed.

I chuckled and exchanged numbers with him. I pulled out of the Uber app and got a ride back to our dorms.

Who is this Stanley guy? He seems pretty nice and sweet. I wanted to see his face and get closer to him. Something about him seemed so familiar. Oddly familiar. Could it be? No, it just couldn’t. I pulled out my phone and texted him before dozing off to sleep

Y/N: Hey, this is Y/N. Sorry about my friend earlier. Maybe we should meet up?

[littlemissrio-blog]

Day 7 3/4: Loud Straight Girls

I decided almost immediately that I was going to attack this whole being sober thing with the best attitude possible. I figure that I can't succeed if I'm feeling sorry for myself. I know that I do not live in a sober world, I'm not going to any sort of rehab where they put you in a nice bubble of only sober people where you talk about your feelings, and get a nice routine, and have lots of therapy and then get tossed out into the world like a drunk bambi grenade with the pin pulled and hope you don't explode. I just went for the whole I'm a fresh bambi thing and I need to learn to walk dammit. So I went out clubbing and to a drag show. I know I just mixed a lot of metaphors, but hear me out. Since the world, and the people around me especially, are far from sober, I know I'm going to end up in a lot of situations that aren't exactly supportive to my cause. Especially when I go back home, my core friends are all experienced alcohol connoiseurs in one way or another. They work in beer, they have extensive bourbon bars in their living rooms, they hate their jobs. Basically they're all soaked in alcohol to the point that they probably need to be careful around open flames. Luckily, where I live now, is only mildly drenched in booze. People go out for a few drinks and go home...you know, like normal people. A girl I work with is actually from back home. Which is nice, we drool over Old Bay together and laugh at the silly Southerners. And she drinks. We've never had the opportunity to drink together, and now I think we (hopefully, if I do this right) never will. But nonetheless, when I got to work on Monday, she said she had some friends from back home coming in to town and asked if I wanted to go out with them on Saturday. "Fuck yea!" Obviously I'm super appropriate at work. They started their day drinking around 3, and continued on a Trolley Pub. Which if you're unfamiliar, is one of those weird things that people sit on and pedal while a guy steers it through the streets of downtown *insert city here*. You have to pay to sit and pedal this thing, and you have to bring your own beer. That part has always confused me, but whatever. I met up with them at dinner after. There were five of them when I got there, all drunk, all sucking down sangria like it was their job, and all whining incessantly about how hungry they were. Naturally, they had all ordered philly cheesesteaks, as skinny drunk white girls tend to do. I ordered my first club soda of the night. With extra limes. The server thought he was being cute by bringing it to me with seven limes on it. Seven. Seeevveeennnnn. Joke's on him, that's heaven to me. They housed their cheesesteaks, complained about wanting mayo on the side, catcalled a truly gorgeous man as he walked through the front door, made several trips to the bathroom together, and then complained about how long the checks took. Standard drunk shit. When I arrived, the vibe was tense. My friend, who we'll call Jdubs, lives with a girl we'll call...fuck it, her name is Jen. I'll never be able to keep track of all of this if I start making shit up. They maybe have an awkward friendship at best. They didn't really know each other before Jdubs moved down here, they met through Jdubs cousin. Whose name I honestly can't remember so I'll call her Charlie. Charlie and Jen are besties. Jen also had a friend named Rita out. That's not her name, but she seems like a Rita and it's shorter than her real name. Rita is not a person I could ever handle in large doses. I was sick of her in under 3 minutes. Rita likes to shriek at random moments for no apparent reason. In her mind it's a reason, like...she's breathing air. But to the rest of the world, it's just a loud confusing noise that might make you spill your drink. She's also fond of making weird faces while she drinks through a straw, paired with turning her head slightly up and to the left, while looking at you across the table and batting her eyelashes. I don't mean she blinked a lot, I mean she cocked her head like a demented puppy and purposefully fluttered her eyelashes at me. Then there was...Lola. Ok, I'm changing names, fuck off. Lola is the best friend from back home, and barely says a word all through dinner. I wasn't sure who was upset with who at this point, but there was some definite cattiness flying around the bar. The point of the night, as I understood it, was to make it to the drag show. This is where it turns into trying to herd drunken cats, and where I start to see where the rift is. I've been with them about an hour now, and miss Lola still has yet to say more than a few words. Charlie and Jen are going on about how tired they are and how they would be more than happy to go back home and put on sweats and Harry Potter marathon it, which I am never opposed to. But this illicites a lot of side eye from Lola. We all finally get paid, and stand up to leave...and it starts pouring. So there we are, 6 girls blocking the entrance to an incredibly busy bar, and Jen and Charlie decide they want to go to a different bar first. It's a block away. We all agree, because why not, but now Jen is whining about the rain, and wants to take an Uber the block to the next bar. Charlie and I decide we're going to walk, because it's a block and we don't think it's raining THAT hard. So she and I walk out the door and start hoofing it. There's a pedicab on the sidewalk, driven by I guess a latin guy, I'm honestly not sure it was dark and I don't care. Charlie starts yelling at him "You're on the sidewalk! That's illegal!" He looks her up and down (she's quite attractive) and yells back "You're illegal!" This sends me into uncontrollable giggles, because while I knew he was commenting on how hot she is, it sounded like an elementary school comeback "no you are!" Charlie misunderstood, as drunk people do, and thought he was accusing her of calling him AN illegal, and that he in turn was now calling her an illegal. And now I have to stop laughing and babysit. In the rain. I sort it out between them and he ends up giving her a free ride down the block, which is what he was actually trying to do in the first place. Now the other girls are upset "She's married with two kids, why is SHE the one that's getting the free ride??" We make it to the next bar, and inside the divide becomes obvious. Jdubs is trying to cheer Lola up, who is in just a nasty mood, while the other three go off to the window to dance. I get myself another club soda, Jdubs goes to dance with the rest of them, and I start to follow, but soon realize oh...hey...I can't really dance, because metal ankle (that's another story for another day). I turn back and see Lola has taken a perch on the wall so I decide to go talk to her and see if we can't get her in a more festive mood. On my walk back to the wall, I see a familiar face. It's Sara! She was with me when I incurred the injury that necessitated said metal ankle, and took care of me through a lot of the process, so she's quite a good friend. And she's drunk. In 4 inch heels. I never make it to Lola, because I'm now occupied with a tiny drunken sparkle bomb, busy being introduced to the people she's out with and introdcing her to the people I'm out with. She finds out we're going to the drag show, Jdubs invites her along, and we decide it's time to go dammit! We were there maybe a half an hour. Jdubs tells Rita, and we watch Rita tell the other girls that we're leaving. They look over, shrug and keep dancing. Now, we're waiting on another coworker of mine, so we end up sitting outside for a minute waiting for her to walk to us from where ever the fuck she was. While we're sitting, I get the story. Honestly...there was no story. These bitches were just drunk. Apparently Lola thought there was some cliquey type stuff going on, and was annoyed with it all, and it seemed like the whole thing just put Jdubs in the middle of a stupid and unnecessary awkward situation. Lola was being a Petty Betty and just wasn't into letting anyone around her have a good time because of whatever perceived bullshit she had in her head. The rest of the story, other than maybe being called loud straight girls by the drag queen hosting the show, isn't even important. It was just a lot of more of the same. Now, why did I just go through all of that mundane night out drivel? Because it gave me a silver lining to being the sober drunk bus driver. I drove all of them home except Rita (thankfully) and had to listen to them go on and on in loud drunk voices about all the things that happened that night that were annoying. Almost none of the things that happened in their minds actually happened that way. I was there. I watched it all. I was sober. I remember it all very clearly. And it made a few things very clear to me. I'm glad that I wasn't that person last night. I'm glad that I wasn't too drunk, I'm glad I didn't spend too much money, I'm glad I wasn't involved in the petty perceived drama. I'm glad I didn't get on stage and twerk in front of my coworkers, or fall down like a few of them did (not twerking, not on stage) in front of everyone. I'm glad I didn't make a fool of myself and then have to wonder what they thought about how I behaved the next day. Even though I knew this, I was a bartender for years and being a drunk for more years, it reminded me how easily the world gets skewed when you're fucked up. How differently your mind works, how differently your emotions react to situations, how differently you perceive things. Your thought processes change, your filter that says "man, that just isn't right, don't think that, DON'T SAY THAT" is somehow removed. I had a great time. I really did. We had a blast. But I wasn't in any way upset that I wasn't drinking with them. I wasn't upset that I wouldn't be able to get up and go for my standing Sunday walking date because I was nursing a hangover, or that I'd be eating a bunch of food I shouldn't be eating because the alcohol makes you crave certain things. Glad. I am so glad.