#I'm feeling old and crotchety

[nordic-language-love]

Can someone please tell me the benefits of giving kids smartphones

[queers4years]

these days pop is made in the tiktok mines

fireflies by owl city. closest we've come to world peace

[therevengeoffrankenstein]

controlling my lalalas atm.

[quietlygrousing]

"written especially for teens and Millennials" I can GUARANTEE you mean gen Z and Alpha as I'm pretty confident 30 and 40 year olds have already settled their opinions on the questions you are trying to answer

[redscarfconnoisseur]

I feel like FF14 having more modern outfits and a fucking fall guys event is leading to it losing its identity. You've got this fantasy game with warriors, knights, spellcasters and steampunk engineers but also a cat girl is standing in the corner wearing a modern-ass hoodie with booty shorts and a snapback cap wearing a pair of Converse and she's called something like Yuki Princess. It just makes me think back to the Diadem item descriptions and how almost every single one of them was a piss take, it just kinda takes you out of the world and makes it feel less special. Once a game gets to the point where it no longer respects its setting and themes it's never good.

[zhaoly]

now im gonna admit that sure i'm not THAT much older than these people but sometimes you just read some kind of argument someone's trying to make and ur like... there's no way this person is past the age of 20

[diazsdimples]

HC: Tommy has a cat who doesn't like many people, but she always demands cuddles from Buck.

Anon, you sparked a Thing™️

Tommy tells Buck he has a cat fairly early on in their relationship. She's his baby, as he calls her. He's had her since he came out to L.A, having adopted her from a shelter a few months into him working with the 118.

One of the first selfies Buck receives is of Tommy lying on his bed, and the cat curled up protectively on his chest. She's a tabby with a dusting of white around her nose that makes Buck wonder about her age. The way Tommy talks about her makes her sound like a kitten, fresh from the womb, but Buck suspects she's probably around 13-14 years old.

When Buck goes to Tommy's apartment for the first time, he warns him about her. Buck can tell Tommy's a little nervous with the way he keeps glancing back at the lounge as he talks, as if he's expecting the cat to give him some big lecture about bringing a boy home without her express permission.

"Now, don't take it personally if Luna ignores you. She hates pretty much everyone," Tommy says as he kisses Buck's cheek and drags him inside the apartment.

It's a nice place, pretty much exactly what Buck expected from his boyfriend (is that what they are now? Boyfriends?). It's full of trinkets from Tommy's life, but it isn't cluttered - a perfect mixture of clean and chaotic, exactly like Tommy himself.

Tommy keeps his hand on the small of Buck's back as he guides him through to the lounge. Buck likes the way Tommy touches him. It makes him feel safe, grounded, as though Tommy could catch him if he falls.

Tommy' s got a couch not too dissimilar to Eddie's, but a deep maroon rather than blue. And there, right in the middle and nestled among a mess of blankets that Tommy has clearly set up for her, lies the person (creature?) in Tommy's life that Buck has been the most anxious to meet.

Tommy makes a chirping noise with his lips and Luna's ears perk up. Slowly, as though her very bones are creaking, she untangles herself from the blankets and hops down from the couch with a quiet "brrrpp". She stretches deeply, ears flattening against her head and eyes screwing shut, and the look of pure bliss that crosses her face is enough to capture Buck's entire heart.

Buck looks at Tommy for guidance as Luna gingerly walks over to him and looks up at him with big, beseeching eyes.

"Go on," Tommy prompts, giving Buck a small nudge with his elbow. "Let her sniff your hand."

Buck crouches and stretches out his hand towards Luna, offering her the backs of his fingers.

"Hi Luna," he almost whispers as she eyes him suspiciously. "I'm Buck, your dad's - uh - friend."

Tommy scoffs from behind him. "I think we're well past the friend stage, Evan."

"I didn't know - I'm sorry - I'm your dad's boyfriend," he corrects, looking back up at Tommy with a raised eyebrow.

Tommy nods, looking pleased. "Much better."

Buck just about leaps out of his skin when a wet nose touches his hand, and he turns back to see that Luna's moved closer, and is sniffing his fingers with interest. He holds stock still, remembering Tommy's words about her crotchety temperament and not wanting to frighten her, lest she bite him, or worse, run away.

Luna continues her sniffing, tiny pink nose moving minutely as she inhales, and then, much to Buck's shock, she rubs her whole face against his hand, with what can only be described as a smug purr.

"I-" Buck begins, looking back at Tommy with wide eyes. Tommy himself looks a little stunned, clearly thrown by his cat's rare display of affection.

"Huh," he says, crossing his arms over his chest and looking down at Buck and Luna with a deeply fond expression. "She's never done that before!"

Luna sits back on her haunches and gives a loud, croaky yowl, as though she's been a chain-smoker for most of her life. She nudges her head against Buck's hand and meows once again.

"I think she wants you to sit down," Tommy says, barely concealing his laughter at Buck's bewildered face. He takes Buck gently by the arm and gives him a quick kiss before directing him to the couch.

"I thought you said she hates everyone?" Buck questions, almost numbly as he allows Tommy to push him onto the plush cushions. The moment his ass has touched the couch, Luna leaps up beside him with a pleased chirp and climbs into his lap.

"She does," Tommy grins as he pulls out his phone, taking a quick snap of his extremely confused boyfriend and even more contented cat. "Clearly she has good taste."

Luna's purring is reaching volumes previously unknown to man, drowning out all other noise in the room as she begins to make biscuits against Buck's thigh. Her claws are sharp and needle-like, pricking into Buck's skin but he's too stunned to do anything more than mutely pet her silky fur.

"Wh-what do I do now?" Buck asks, looking at Tommy for guidance. He'd been expecting to possibly see a streak of Luna's fur as she raced across the apartment to hide under Tommy's bed - her favourite place apparently - but now here he is with a whole ass cat on his lap, one who apparently loves him and hates every other guest Tommy's ever had over, and Buck really has no clue where to go from here.

Tommy chuckles and reaches over to scratch behind Luna's ears before leaning forward and capturing Buck's lips in a soft kiss, his fingers gently caressing Buck's chin.

"Stay there, I'll go get us a beer," he says as he pulls away, and leaves Buck in the lounge with Luna. She's curled up completely in his lap now, tail tucked over her paws, and every so often she tilts her head up towards him, demanding scritches that he is more than happy to provide her with.

Tommy returns with two beers and hands one to Buck before flopping next to him on the couch, looping an arm around Buck's shoulders.

"I guess you've gotta stay forever now, Luna's not gonna let you leave," he jokes, and something twists in Buck's stomach, making him a little giddy.

He really likes Tommy - hell, he might even love the guy - but receiving the seal of approval from his cat is probably the biggest step in their relationship to date. Well, it really isn't but is sure feels like that. Like he's being welcomed into the family.

Buck sighs happily and rests his head against Tommy's shoulder, a small shiver rushing through him as Tommy noses his hairline, his lips brushing ever so gently against Buck's temple.

"Yeah, I guess I do."

[quokkaholic]

Locked In🍺 h.j

Warnings: Suggestive fluff, cussing duh, alcohol consumption, kissing and touching(tehe), claustrophobia maybe. Lightly edited

Synopsis: y/n is a student by day and flirty/sassy bartender by night. On a busy night, Han comes in and matches her freak. Han referred to as sexy man before y/n knows his name.  They may or may not get stuck in the fridge. 

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆ ☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆ ☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆ ☆ ★ ✮

It's going to be a rough night tonight. Even though the dive bar you work at is on the smaller, more local side, you get pretty busy on Thursday nights. Busy enough that you typically have two bartenders, but tonight your literal other half and best friend, Janie, got a call about her boyfriend having a family issue in the middle of her restocking the cooler. You know she doesn’t want to  leave you high and dry, but he needed her, and you aren’t soulless. You tell her to go to him; its already 1am, so you just have 3 more hours till close. It’s not like she hasn’t covered for you on many different occasions. She gives you a tight squeeze before grabbing her stuff and jogging out the door. While you’d like to sit and relish in the feeling of being the greatest friend of all time, you now have so much more shit to do. 

You’re so busy trying to catch up on dishes, you can’t check who walks in when the bell that hangs on the door rings. You shout to the front, that you’ll be right there as you grab the rag that's hanging through one of the belt loops on your jeans. 

As you speed walk to the front, you see the man that just came in is not a regular; you would remember if you had seen him before. He’s fucking stunning, and if you weren’t working, it would take some serious courage to go up and talk to him. Thankfully, you’ve been working on your bartender persona.

“Hey love, what can I get you?” you say to the patron as you lean over the bar to grab some empty bottles nearby.

“Oh hi baby. I uh…” he says as he squints at the torn and marked up beer and liquor list trying to read it under the dim neon lights.

“If you say “surprise me” it’ll be a bud light” you warn as you pour some pints for the couple at the other end of the bar. Sending you a playful glance over the paper, he slowly lowers it.

“Well what do you recommend?” He raises his voice just loud enough for you to hear him as you're running around doing little tasks but not loud enough to disrupt the others. 

“I go for a paloma, personally. Its fresh, and bubbly, and not too sweet, but I'm warning you, the grapefruit soda we keep is pretty sour.”

“That sounds lovely” he gives you a soft smile kinda relieved he didn’t have to make a decision. 

“I gotcha”

You pour some more shots for the group at the pool tables before mixing up the sexy man’s drink and pouring it into a sugar rimmed highball glass. 

“For you, my dear” you say as you hand him the finished drink. He grabs it with both hands allowing his fingers to graze yours; his touch is warm and tender and dreamy, nothing like the usual snatching of other customers. Before you walk away, you pour him a little bowl of snack mix.

“Hey y/n! Why is he getting so much attention” a crotchety old man and regular of yours shouts to you as you make your way to the back. 

“Come on. If you want snacks, use your words and ask next time, asshat” biting back, as you walk right past him. 

You are shuffling around clearing off tables, tabbing people out, and wiping up spills. It takes a minute before you realize sexy man has not made much progress with his drink. Going back to him, you try to figure out the cause,

“How does it taste, babe?” striking up a conversation again. He gives only an innocent and sorry look in response, you can't stop the corner of your mouth from raising to a smirk.

“I swear to god, if you say its too sour”

“I'm sorry miss y/n” he says after sucking a breath through his teeth. 

“You motherfucker” insulting him between laughs.

“I tried to warn you! I can add some simple syrup to it, but I think you’d rather have a beer, it’ll be on me”

Before sexy man can reject your offer, you reach into one of the beer ice chests, but are once again heckled by the wrinkly regular.

“Why does he get special treatment, huh? I’m supposed to be your favorite”

“I don't remember saying that” responding while opening the beer (idk but i feel like if han had to pick a beer found at your average US bar it would be modelo)

“You literally told me last week!” He’s probably right, you’ll say quite a lot to get a bigger tip.

“Well..” muttering as you wipe off the bottle. You lean to sexy man close enough so that when hold your hands up, it blocks both of your faces.

“What's your name, babe?” you whisper after you place the beer in front of him and he whispers his answer back to you.

“Han, is my favorite now. He's cuter, and nicer, and I bet he tips better too.” You and Han snicker together about it for a minute before you have to get back to running the damn bar.

You keep cleaning, and serving drinks, and running tabs; its nearing 2:30am before you can stop and talk to Han again.

“Han my sweet, you want some company?”

“That would be amazing, actually”

“So, what brings you here, at this hour I might add?”

“Honestly, jet lag. I just needed to get out of the hotel room, and I’ve been living the dream ever since. And you?” such a smooth talker, and he keeps eye contact with you the whole time. Not in an intimidating way but in the way where he is genuinely engrossed in your conversation, and it makes your heart pound. 

“I’m a student so working nights works best with my schedule”

“Oh, an educated woman! Sexy”

“Yeah it would be, if I could get a good job with my four year degree, but alas, I make more as a bartender than I did as a lab tech. So, here I am, grad student by day, bartender by night.”

“Sexy and driven” He mumbles against the mouth of his bottle before he tips it back to finish it off. You and Han chat consistently while you take care of the handful of other patrons. You try to get him another beer, but he declines. 

“You ready for the check, HANdsome? Sorry, that wasn’t good.” Its starting to get late in the night, and your charm is starting to wear off.

“No…uhh. What time do you get off?” Han seems to be infected by your shyness.

“Oh um. We close at 4, but i won’t leave until 5 or 5:30”

“Is it cool if I just wait till then? Maybe, I could take you to breakfast? I’m just not tired at all, and I…I’m really…”

“That would be amazing actually. I’d love to. Could I get you a soda at least?”

You and Han chat and get to know each other through the last call, and it's time to kick the last customers out. The grouchy regular is of course the last one out the door.

“Why does your new favorite get to stay?”

“Because I like him more than you. I already told you he's with me! If I hear one more word about this from you, I'll never serve you again. Now get the fuck out” you shout the last part locking the door being them. 

Even though you try to get him to stop, Han helps you with your closing duties, but because you were short staffed tonight and were kind of neglecting some duties to talk to Han, it takes a while. It's a little after 5 by the time you guys are getting ready to walk out the back door. You pull on your coats and grab your purse, and just as you guys are about to open the door it hits you, you didn't restock, Janie was doing that before she had to leave.

“Fuck, will you help me restock the fridge, it’ll take like 8 minutes if we work together.”

“Lead the way”

Han is handing you bottles and crushing boxes as you organize the shelves. You two make a great team and finish the task in record time, but when Han turns to exit he just stands at the door darting his eyes all over looking for a knob. 

“Here, let me”

You scooch around him, and reach up to the shelf where you keep the emergency “key” that opens the door from the inside, but it's not there. You feel around and nothing. You look around on all the surfaces, and it's nowhere to be seen. While walking past the fridge door, you see it out the corner of your eye, but to your dismay, you saw it out the window of the fridge door on the counter right outside. You slowly turn back to Han.

“Heeeeey. Bad news. We’re locked in”

“What?” Han's jaw might as well be on the floor.

“Yeah so there's the key” pointing out the window. Han indirectly squishes you against the door and places his cheek on yours in order to see what you see.

“Fuck” he breathes out. 

“That's what I’m saying. We’ve got options, we left our phones by the door so we can’t call for help, but we could 1) cause hundreds of dollars in damage and break out and I probably lose my job or 2), which I am leaning towards, another bartender will be here at like 7 for opening stuff and we just chill here for an hour and a half”

“Well… I guess we have plenty to keep us busy” he says gesturing to the surrounding alcohol with a smirk.

“Alcohol actually speeds up the effects of hypothermia” his playful smile drops at your words

“I'm kidding! I mean not really; that is true, but we'll be fine! Here, have a drink” you open a beer and hand it to him. 

Even though you and Han have already been talking for hours, the conversion is never ending. Topics flowing seamlessly into one after another and you guys snack on the drink accoutrements like cherries and such. You have your winter coats on, so the cold is bearable, but you’ve scooted inch by inch close between his legs but facing him with your legs bent over his. You take turns back and forth spraying the whipped cream you have for some of the more elaborate shots available into eachothers mouths. He fills your mouth a bit too much and when you try to close your lips, some spills out onto your chin. Han immediately apologizes and uses his thumb to wipe it off, but his hand lingers on your cheek, and his eyes bounce between your lips and eyes.

Not a second later your lips are smashed together and he is wrapping his arms around to clasp his hand behind your back and pull you into him. His lips are soft and plump and sweet from residual cream. The kisses are slow and passionate. There's tongue but not down your throat, just gentle gliding over lips and dipping in just slightly to get a taste. Things start to heat up when he withdraws slightly to lick over the area that he had wiped, instead of stopping there he licks along your jaw and pushes your hair back to kiss over and behind your ear. Once he pulls away with his head still tilted, you have the opportunity to access his neck leaving wet kisses down to where his shoulder and neck connect. He moans softly as his hands fall down to grip your ass hard. This kiss is truly more intoxicating than any drink, and you recognize that as his noises have a warmth building in your core. You’re loving every seconds, but this is risky enough, the last thing you need if for your coworker to find you fucking a stranger in the walk in. You start to slow down a little and Han immediately follows your lead. To be silly and try to help the sexual tension dissipate you feel Han reaching towards his head and then yours. He pulls your hoods up over your heads and is holding them shut to create a kiss cave forcing the passionate kiss to halt due to your grins and giggles.

Soon the bartender arrives and thankfully the staff is pretty close and all really cool so you don't have to explain much, at least not right now. You guys grab your things, and scamper outside. 

“I guess we don’t need breakfast anymore” Han chuckles to himself.

“I could go for coffee”

“Coffee? I could go for a nap! Don’t you need sleep?”

“Sleep? Baby, I have class.” His eyes widen in shock as he reaches out his hand for your phone.

“You’re insane. I have to see you again, but only after you get some rest.”

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆ ☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆ ☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆ ☆ ★ ✮

A.n- VERY lightly inspired by the anime How I Attended an All Guys Mixer (get into it). Thank you for reading

-mo♥️

Masterlist

[haute-pockette]

The Doctor's incarnations have fears associated to what caused their regenerations Two acting childlike and whimsical because he's afraid of growing old again. He's scared of becoming a crotchety old man that will die alone. He surrounds himself with friends just as he much with surrogates, to help him feel like he isn't too old to be running about having adventures. Three having a lot of complex and mixed feelings about the Time Lords. He resents them for what they did to him and his companions, but also very scared of facing that fate again should cross their path once more. Four can't stand spiders. They didn't directly kill him, but damn did they play a big part leading up to his regeneration. They give him the willies and Sarah Jane and Romana always have to take care of invading arachnids while he is perched safely on the center console. Five hating heights might actually be canon, he's shown freaking out on a cliff in Castrovalva and hating every minute of a plane ride in Time Flight. Boy likes to keep his feet firmly where he doesn't risk falling. He'll get vertigo if too close to a ledge. Six being scared of getting sick. While this one is more vague, it was the fever of Spectrox Toxemia that kills, so I could see him being panicky and over compensating when it comes to illnesses. Pulls manflu pity every time: bed rest, tea, soup, hot waterbottle on the forehead, reciting rhetoric about his woes. Poor Peri and Mel has to tend to his drama. I can also see him hating bats but in a "why can't you fuckers make more than a tiny vial of milk, asshole???" kind of way. I think Seven's might also be canon (in the books at least) with the way he mentally locked away his Sixth self in fear of the Valeyard. Though he wasn't really a cause for regeneration, he certainly set the Doctor on the path to it. Eight terrified of medicine and hospitals. Aspirin is already deadly to Time Lords, anesthesia fucked up his regeneration. This boy won't go to a medical professional unless he's dragged in unconscious. He will look at broken leg twisted out of shape and claim he can walk it off. The Warrior/War Doctor scared of failing people the way he did Cass. His spirit for hope and brighter ending to the war broken when he regenerated. He became the one that got his hands dirty because he was too scared to let anyone else die under his care.

Nine scared of war. War Doctor held off his regeneration for years to keep fighting, and Nine clearly does his best to step away from the incarnation he hated being more than anything. Like he said, "Coward, any day." Ten is a bit tricky. He's scared of Daleks, losing companions. He's scared that people around him will be willing to sacrifice themselves for him. Scared of the heart of the Tardis, the very soul of time itself ripping away what/who he loves. After Rose is safe from it he was very careful to never let anyone open it again. Eleven scared to see another Time Lord again. He's heartbroken about being the last of his kind. Romana, Brax, Damon all gone. The Master's plans had gotten so much more violent and destructive and insane than they used to be. The other Time Lords so desperate to escape the Time Locked war that they'd destroy time to do it. He's scared of everything ending if the Time Lords return. I haven't really seen enough of Twelve or past that to give proper interpretations on them, but I'm pretty sure Twelve is determined not to be seen as an old man. It's like he sees this new cycle as starting over so he's trying to act like he's the young, rebellious first incarnation? idk

[vaguely-concerned]

UNHINGED DISTANT VOICES THOUGHTS (or: now we don't have time to unpack all of that julian but --)

this ep has such a banger concept (several banger concepts that should have had an ep all to themselves, really), even if its overall implementation is pretty mid. the idea that julian seems to readily believe that the most central voices inside him are aggression, fear/suspicion, doubt, confidence/sense of adventure, professionalism... and garak, being surprisingly, seductively good at tennis and taking care of him :}

in a doylist perspective I don't think this is well-crafted enough to read into it too deeply before it starts to fall gently apart, but through a watsonian lens and my fannish heart this is fucking fascinating fdsjka. where. where are all the positive feelings and sides of you that aren't about bickering with garak julian. are you okay julian. I like that since the augment storyline hadn't been conceived of yet at this point, you could look back and justify Julian's surge of confidence at the end as him realizing the lethean hasn't been able to get that deep in his mind to find what that whole mess must look like in his brain. 'you don't understand me half as well as you think you do' gains such depth, basically accidentally

'I'm a part of you, remember? I know what you know. Well... maybe a little more.'

'Still the man of mystery?'

'Oh, you wouldn't have me any other way.'

what. the FUCK fhdskjha. what's more gay, the lethean having picked through bashir's brains for this characterization of garak and their relationship (that Bashir easily buys and depends on through the ep), or him seeing half a minute max of julian and garak having lunch and uh. drawing his own conclusions, apparently. wild stuff)

Isn't this also the first time we see Julian actually play tennis with someone? All the other times it's been racquetball, right? Well well. Interesting. is all I'll say.

avery brooks does SUCH a good job changing his voice in this to match julian's doctor voice, I almost jumped in surprise when he was talking b/c that certainly isn't sisko's voice coming out of sisko's mouth

garak alternatingly going 'now -- what do you want me to do?' in a very... willing directable sort of way and telling julian that he's a good boy doing good and being so supportive and attentive and that's how the lethean tries to keep julian's shields down the longest. many thoughts. few of them PG.

JULIAN'S REASONING THAT THIS REALLY ISN'T GARAK -- NOT EVEN HIS MIND'S VERSION OF GARAK -- IS THAT THIS GARAK ISN'T COMPETENT ENOUGH FSDKJFHKSDJ. and he sounds so petulant about it too. 'the real garak would have this fixed for me a long time ago if I just batted my eyelashes and told him I thought cylon pareg's body of work was very interesting and layered :'( I miss him'

jazdia julian BROtp got me crying in quark's tonight, this was such a good direction to take that relationship. I know they kind of fuck it up again in s7 but y'know I'll take the good stuff while it's here haha

julian makes for such an amazing crotchety old man im love him

julian has a near-lethal stress dream about turning 30 and being bisexual. it's weird but very entertaining, and garak is there

[gin-juice-tonic]

Hey Gin! I just wanna say that as a fat trans kid, your trans falls comics have really made me feel affirmed. I'm very lucky to say that this week is my first week I'll be on testosterone, and I am so grateful for your work because they make me feel confident about all this. I'm excited to have shitty facial hair for the first time. I'm excited to not have to hear my voice yet far too high when I'm excited. I'm excited for whatever weird shit gets hurled at me. And for the first time, I'm confident about getting older. I'm far from Stan/Ford's age, but I can actually see a crotchety old version of me in them. I love that thought. So, thank you. I wish you the best.

Soos spent all night bending those

Congrats on the start of a new journey!

[twola]

#212 “We could run away.” 😭😭😭

Already Gone

Arthur Morgan x F!Reader 

➵ Fic Masterlist ➵ AO3 Link

“Y’lookin at me like I'm already gone.”

Tears cloud over your vision as he sits on his cot in front of you, a shell of the man he used to be. His eyes are sunken, bloodshot. He’s grown out his beard to hide the gauntness of his cheeks.

You cannot help the escape of those tears down your cheeks, hiccuping a sob as you stare at the ground. He reaches over and takes your hand in his, pulling you closer to him, gently, slowly, like he was trying to calm a skittish horse.

“C’mere, darlin’.” He guides to sit upon his thigh, winding one arm behind your back as the other one clamps affectionally on your thigh, “There we go… ain't nothin’ to be cryin’ about.”

You frown and lean your forehead against his, a fresh outpouring of tears cascading down your cheeks, as your breathing hastens against his express wishes.

“You’re too pretty to be cryin’ like this.” Arthur swipes his thumb across the your cheek to stem the flow of tears, but you swat his hand away before steeling your nerves and leaning in to take his lips.

Arthur frowns, pulling your hips back to prevent you from kissing him.

“You know we can't.” He quietly pleads, his voice pained.

“Its like you're h-half gone already.” You whisper, hiccuping halfway through the sentence, angry and sad and drowning in reality at the same time.

“I’m right here, darlin’.”

“Let’s go - just, let’s leave-”

He frowns. You press onward, desperately.

“We - we could run away. Let me take you out west where it's dry and -”

“You know we can't do that, sweetheart.” Arthur cuts you off quietly, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear affectionately.

The dimple in your chin forms again as your lip quivers, a long breath let out of your nose as he smiles sadly at you.

He draws you in, one hand on the back of your head, shushing you gently as your voice cracks into another sob.

“You’re gonna go on and keep livin’, sweet girl.”

“Not without y-you-”

“Without me. Yer gonna grow into a crotchety old woman and join me years from now.” You can feel his smile against your cheek, and as much as you try not to, you cannot help but laugh at the comment.

“I love you. How am I ever gonna go on without you?”

“You’re a strong girl. Smart. Much smarter than a ol’ dolt like me. You’ll be fine.” Arthur gently rocks you back and forth on his knee, comforting even now as he and you know his time is growing short.

You bury your face into his neck.

This wasn’t supposed to be happening. You were supposed to be doing jobs. Maybe breaking out on your own. Riding across the country. Maybe settling down somewhere hidden when this life finally paid out.

But now…

Your tears fall on the warm skin of his neck, and he gathers you into his embrace, murmuring sweet nothings in your ear, trying to comfort you.

You know you shouldn’t waste this time.

It’s all you have left.

[whositmcwhatsit]

I am feeling grumpy and crotchety today and I'm going to contradict myself massively in some twisty turny logic.

Don't listen to anyone (except me, this one time when I say this).

Obviously you don't need to listen to anyone who posts their vitriolic or even overly adoring opinions.

But also don't get swept up by posts that pretend they are educating you with *facts* but provide few sources with attributions.

There are thousands of books written about Elvis. I own and have read a decent chunk of them over my decades of obsession, and I know how many contradict each other, some are riddled with inaccuracies, and all are trying to present a very conscious narrative. All I know is that I know nothing.

It doesn't matter if some grizzled old guy corners you at a convention and tells you that you are wrong about which song is your favourite (ah, the good old days), or a slightly less grizzled woman like me tells you that some so-called Elvis insiders are less trustworthy than others, or newer post-Austin movie fans tell you they're giving you the facts from all their research.

The experience of being a fan is the joy of discovery, finding things out for yourself, watching those shows for the first time, reading those books and forming your own opinions, listening to a new song and having some euphoric physiological reaction.

It's not to be whacked over the head by someone telling you you're an idiot for not having read a book, it's not to be made to feel small, and it's not to hastily form opinions based on what someone else claims.

Just enjoy the journey, find your own joy, make up your own mind, and don't listen to anyone else.

Except maybe me, just this once.

[bqstqnbruin]

Just Friends - Part 5

So yes I did forget to post yesterday because I fell asleep super early instead of acting as a functioning member of society but now I'm sick anyway so whoops

Read the previous part here

Warnings: Drinking, mentions of death, swearing

WC: 4776

Enjoy!

___________________

Emeline didn’t want to be out right now. After the week she had? The already minimal amount of time she had to herself with her students coming to see her every free moment she had? What was she going to do, say no to them? Yet, here she was, in a loud, crowded, slightly putrid smelling bar, with Fran and Maddy, who had way too much energy considering they also experienced what sounded like a week from hell. 

Fran, on one hand, was reamed out by one of their company's clients for something that wasn’t her fault, all while they praised her male coworkers for the things they were mad at her for. Her dad took her side, thankfully, and said they wouldn’t work together anymore if they were going to treat people like that, but still. Maddy, on the other hand, had the worst patients of the week, all of them seeming to be the same degree and angry and petulant, practically refusing her care and help. One of the older patients was pissed and asked for a different nurse because she didn’t like that Maddy had tattoos, and then didn’t speak to Maddy for her entire stay because there were no other nurses who could take care of the crotchety old woman. 

It was the first week since they were in college that the three of them all immediately went to their rooms upon coming home from work. Normally at least one of them lingered in their living room so that if the other two felt the need to rant or yell about anything, someone was there to listen. But this week, clearly, was bad. 

Emeline was sitting at a bar stool on her phone, Fran and Maddy on one side of her, ranting to each other, Emeline barely listening to Maddy’s rant about her patient.

“Where did the name Maude come from? That sounds like a crotchety old woman's name.”

“Isn’t that a shade of purple?” Fran asks, trying to get the attention of the bartender, who had been practically ignoring the three of them the entire time they were there. 

“That’s mauve, babe,” Emeline finally pipes in. 

Maddy tries to hide her laugh, knowing that confusing the two things was unlike Fran, but still incredibly funny. “What do you want to drink?” she tries to ask Emeline, failing miserably not to laugh.

“Usual,” she says, not looking up from the screen. Fran orders her a coke, the bartender clearly annoyed that there wasn’t any alcohol mixed into it. Emeline looks up just in time to see Fran giving the bartender a death stare, him slinking away as soon as their drinks are ready. 

“I swear to god,” Fran starts, yanking both Maddy and Emeline from their stools and into the crowd, “people are so ignorant when someone doesn’t want to drink alcohol.”

Fran was starting to seethe, the same speech about to start whenever someone gives even the slightest weird look about not ordering alcohol. “Fran, it’s fine. We’re at a bar, of course it’s weird that someone is ordering something without alcohol,” Emeline tries to calm her down.

“She could be DD,” Maddy points out.

“She shouldn’t need a reason to not drink.” 

“She is right here and, I’m telling you, it’s fine,” Emeline cuts in, knowing her roommates would keep up their conversation whether she said that or not. 

“Why can’t the five of us go out for once without having someone make a backhanded comment about Emeline’s drinking,” Fran continues.

“The only ones who commented were you two,” Emeline points out. “And, I only see three of us.”

Fran takes her by the shoulders, angling her towards the back corner. “Jeremy and Johnny are here.” Emeline can feel her heart racing at the mention of Jeremy, a reaction she wasn’t sure why it was happening even though she couldn’t even see him. “Or, more than five, it looks like they brought some of the team with them.”

Jeremy didn’t tell her they were meeting them tonight. Emeline and Jeremy had been texting all day when he wasn’t playing. They had an afternoon matinee earlier that day, getting the luxury of a late practice the next day before their game Monday night, all at home. He came over after the game while Maddy and Fran were out, and talked about how the girls were going out. They talked about how Keelan was away on a business trip in South Carolina for a while, right up until Thanksgiving, doing god knows what and that she wouldn’t even be seeing him until after her birthday. 

Fran drives Emeline towards the boys, Emeline feeling her mouth go dry as the group finally comes into her line of sight. Jeremy was wearing what looked like to be all black, Emeline’s heart racing at the sight of him. 

She chugs as much of her soda as she can in a few seconds, trying to shake off whatever she was feeling.

She just missed Keelan. She hadn’t seen him in a week, and she wasn’t going to see him for another two at least.

That was it.

It was just her missing Keelan. 

“We only know two of you, who are you?” Fran demands, plopping Emeline down next to Jeremy, Emeline suddenly very self conscious about what she was wearing. She didn’t have a lot of ‘going out clothes,’ her wardrobe consisting of sweats, t-shirts, and shorts, or her teaching clothes. Trying to find something that Fran and Maddy would let her out of the apartment in for a bar consisted of her wearing one of three shirts she stole from Fran during college, like the Beatles crop top and flannel she had on now and one of the pairs of pants she stole from Maddy, a pair of looser fitting navy blue pants that were tied at her waist. 

“You weren’t kidding,” one of them says, turning to Johnny who just shrugs.

“You really can't make up Francesca.”

“Either you tell me your names or I’m making up nicknames for you all.”

“She’s more aggressive than normal,” Jeremy whispers to Emeline, his thigh on the seat knocking into hers. 

“She’s only worse when she’s drunk,” Emeline tells him, turning towards him. He was much closer than she had expected him to be, trying not to look startled by his face right in hers. Not that she did anything to move away.

She missed Keelan.

Emeline clears her throat, backing away slightly. “Um, what are you drinking?” she asks, trying to change the subject.

“Rum and coke.” 

“Come on, Muppet Boy,” Fran interrupts, pulling their attention back to the rest of the group. 

“That’s not even creative,” the still unnamed teammate tries to argue, a look of awe covering his face. “She never said they were going to be creative,” Maddy points out. 

Fran launches into an argument with Muppet Boy, or Trent as Emeline had figured out based on the rest of the guys calling him that. From what Jeremy had told her, Trent was about two years older than Emeline, from St. Louis, and apparently a little unhinged when it came to him being on the ice with any guy that he didn’t like. If Fran hadn’t already probably pissed him off, she could see the two of them hitting it off. Instead, they were sitting there fighting over something that probably didn’t matter. 

Fran was enchanting the rest of the teammates with whatever slightly drunken tirade she was going on, Emeline still unsure of who the other guys around them were. Johnny and Maddy were already off in their own world, somehow slipping away from the rest of the group without Emeline noticing. 

“Mason is next to Trent,” Jeremy starts, someone reading her mind, only getting closer to Emeline as he talks. “Then, Charlie Mac, Brandon, Justin, and Morgan.” 

Emeline shakes her head, “No way I remember that.”

“Oh, come on,” Jeremy scoffs, nudging Emeline with his shoulder, sending a shiver through her body. Fuck her involuntary reactions to missing her boyfriend. “You have like ninety students whose names you told me you remembered in a week. You can remember six guys' names.”

Emeline looks over at Jeremy, watching him smile as he listened to his teammates. The slight crinkle by his eyes when he laughs, throwing his head back, making her heart warm as she drinks her coke. It tasted off, Emeline thinking nothing of it as she got unreasonably lost looking at him.

"You could eat a bunch of scrabble tiles and shit them out and whatever they say is going to make more sense than whatever the fuck just came out of your mouth,” Emeline hears Fran say, the guys laughing as Trent stares at her, dumbfounded. 

“Do you wanna dance?” she asks him out of the blue, not loud enough for anyone in their group to hear her.

Jeremy smiles and nods, both of them getting up, Emeline stumbling as she does. Why did she feel weird? She didn’t know what it was, but she felt almost spacey, the only word she could think of to describe it. All she had was her soda. 

Jeremy steadies her, his hand spreading across her lower back as he leads her out of sight of the rest of his teammates and Fran. 

Emeline felt like she was looking through a pair of glasses that were the wrong prescription, the room spinning slightly but Jeremy keeping her planted on the ground, his arms wrapped around her while she drapes her arms on his shoulders. She could feel his heartbeat, or maybe it was hers? She couldn’t tell. She felt weird.

“Woah, you really did a number on that drink, didn’t you?” Jeremy asks her.

“What?”

“The rum and coke? You started drinking from mine, but since we had the same drink, I figured it didn’t matter,” he explains, his words going right through her mind. 

All she had was her coke, not Jeremy’s. 

Emeline shakes her head, not caring about how she felt. Jeremy with her arms around her was all she cared about. She rested her head on his chest, his chin resting perfectly on top. He held her tighter, the two of them not at all moving in sync with the music around them. Emeline could feel his heartbeat against her head, sinking with the pounding she was starting to feel in her own head. She could smell his cologne, lavender and grapefruit, two of her favorite scents that she didn’t even know existed for men. 

Keelan had a cologne that always made Emeline cough, no matter how much or how little he put on. 

Emeline had no idea how long the two of them were dancing together like that, whatever space possible between them closed immediately. She had never felt this close to Keelan before. 

“Em,” Jeremy whispers, his voice hoarse. “I think everyone else is leaving.” 

Emeline looks up at Jeremy, his face again, so close to hers. She could kiss him right there. Her mind tried to find a reason why she shouldn’t just take his face in her hands and pull him in to do just that.

Keelan.

“Pizza.”

“What?”

Emeline eyes wander over Jeremy’s shoulder, the neon sign of the pizza place across the street flashing, ‘open’ at them. “I need pizza.”

She takes his hand, dragging him across the street with her. Jeremy pays for the box, despite her protests, telling her it was only on the condition that he got at least half. They were just close enough to their building that they could justify walking if they really wanted to, Emeline feeling incredibly warm despite it being November in Boston. 

They walked through the streets, Jeremy holding on to the box as Emeline stumbled every few steps, his free hand on her back just like it was in the bar to steady her. 

“I have never wanted anything more in my life,” Emeline tells him, walking up the stairs to their floor. Emeline opens the door, hearing music blasting from inside, shutting the door and turning to Jeremy faster than he can process. Jeremy ends up accidentally pinning her to the door, his breath momentarily syncing with hers despite his heart beating out of control. 

He clears his throat, stepping back while praying that his cheeks weren’t too noticeably red. “What’s wrong?”

“Fran has girl in red playing,” Emeline tells him.

“And?”

“That means she has someone in the apartment.”

“Ok?”

“No, I mean,” she tries to pull her thoughts together, the process incredibly difficult. “She is sleeping with someone in the apartment.”

“And that means we can’t go in?”

“Last time I walked in when I heard girl in red playing, I found a bra that was not Fran’s flung over the TV and boxers that were also not Fran’s on the floor by the couch. Fran and her hook up were in the hallway and on their way to the bathtub? There might have been someone already in there, but I’m still not sure, to this day.”

“That makes a lot of sense for Fran,” Jeremy laughs, handing the pizza to Emeline and dragging her down the hall towards his apartment. He opens the door, Nickelback blasting before he pulls the same move Emeline did moments earlier. “If Nickelback is playing, Johnny has a girl over.”

Emeline can’t help but laugh. “He has sex to Nickelback?”

“The girls don’t normally come back for a second night.” The two of them stand in the hallway, neither of them able to really go into their apartments. “So what do we do? Sit and eat the pizza right here?”

Emeline tries to think for a second, her head cloudy as she forces herself to remember what happened the last time Maddy or Fran had someone over and she came home sooner than they expected. She remembered scratching her leg, telling Fran, she thinks it was, that she was lucky she didn’t need stitches or any type of shot because of it. 

It finally dawns on her, a sly smile on her face as she grabs Jeremy’s hand and leads him back down the stairs. 

“Emeline, where are we going?” 

“Do you trust me?”

“With my life.” He smiles at her, her heart skipping a beat as she continues leading him down the stairs and back outside while she yells at him to keep the pizza safe. “The fire escape?”

Emeline laughs, jumping up to try to pull the ladder down, missing the first few times until Jeremy reaches over her to help her pull it down. She turns back and reaches for the pizza, Jeremy pointedly keeping it out of reach.

“Emeline, no.”

“Why not?”

“You’re going to drop it if you try to hold it and go up the ladder with it like I think you want to.”

“Like you’ll do better?” 

Jeremy goes in front of her, unable to hide the smile on his face as he moves up the ladder, not even sure why she was leading him this way as he pulls himself up with one hand while trying to keep his balance, the other hand holding Emeline’s sacred pizza. 

“Don’t let it tip,” she calls, climbing up behind him. “You’ll let the cheese fall off and then you’ll ruin it.” 

He can’t help but laugh, pretending to start to lose his balance while Emeline yells at him again. “You care more about the pizza than you do about me, don’t you? What if I were falling with the pizza and you could only save one of us?”

“Right now, I choose the pizza if you’re going to be mean to me.” 

He finally reaches their floor, Emeline’s room right next to them as he holds his hand out to help her up the final two steps. Her hand was starting to get cold from the winter air around them. Jeremy watches in awe as she manages to get her window open from the outside, watching her struggle to hold the heaving frame open. “You should keep this locked if you’re not home.”

“We always unlock each other's windows if we have someone over and someone needs to get in,” Emeline explains. 

“How often does that happen?” Jeremy says, Emeline not noticing his inability to stop staring at her as she practically folds herself in half in order to get herself inside while keeping the window from closing on her. That was how, she remembers, she cut her leg last time; the window closed as she was pulling herself in. 

He hands her the pizza that she so carefully puts down on the floor next to her, Emeline trying to keep the window open for him while he tries to follow her in. 

“Enough times that I can’t believe I forgot this is how we do it.”

Her mind was blank while she watched him climb in, his foot catching on the sill as she starts to close it, Jeremy tripping as the window slams behind them, taking them both down against the floor. Emeline bursts out laughing, sure that this response is not how she would normally react to a man that was not her boyfriend falling on top of her, feeling weirdly ok with it. “Well, that’s one way to do it.” 

The two of them situate themselves, the box of pizza on one side of Emeline, Jeremy on her other. They lean against her bed, her head falling back as she lifts a slice of her much awaited pizza, the smile growing on her face. “This is the best thing ever,” she tells him, her head feeling much more clear, though with a slight headache, than it had back at the bar. 

“It really is,” Jeremy agrees, reaching over her to grab his own slice, the tips of his fingers grazing her thigh and sending a chill through her body.

The two of them eat in silence, clearing off all but two slices in what was probably too little time for their own health.

“Hey, Em?” Jeremy asks.

“Hm?”

“You don’t drink,” he asks, his phrasing sounding more like a statement than a question.

Emeline picks up another piece of pizza, picking off some of the cheese from the end. “I was a little drunk tonight, wasn’t I?” she asks, Jeremy nodding but her not looking to see the confirmation. “My dad was killed by a drunk driver.”

“Emeline,” Jeremy starts, letting out a sigh that made him sound like he was deflating.

She shakes her head, resting one of her hands on his thigh without thinking, not caring about how natural it felt as he took her hand in his, their fingers intertwining perfectly. “It’s one of those things where I’m not sure what could have happened that would have stopped it, other than the guy not drinking.”

“Emeline,” Jeremy says again.

“I just have a hard time bringing myself to drink when I know that drinking is what cut my dad’s life shorter than it needed to be.”

“Emeline.”

“I mean,” she says, her voice catching in her throat. “Why would I do something where I lose control? I have so many things that I can’t control as it is. I can plan out every minute that I want to teach and there is still no way to possibly follow it. I can plan my schedule for the entire day, know exactly when I’m going to work on what, but something, or someone, without fail, with come up and force me to rethink everything. I can plan the T being late but even though it always is, it’s late a different amount of time every time I’m leaving school. Or the one time I think I have it, my train leaves early.”

“Em.”

She could feel her eyes starting to water, trying her best to fight back the tears. “I couldn’t control my grandmother getting old and passing away when I was in college, which, that wasn’t much of a shock because you expect someone to die when they’re older. But I couldn’t control when I broke my leg during sophomore year and had to sit out the end of the season. I couldn’t control when we lost the championship for a second time while we were because I was out. I couldn’t control my mom not wanting me and leaving me before she even got the chance to see who I would become.”

Jeremy takes the pizza from her hand and throws it into the box, pulling her into his chest as she finally lets out the sob she was holding back. 

She hadn’t cried about her mom in years. She thought about finding out her dad had died a lot, but never to the point where it brought her to tears. Same with her grandmother. She couldn’t believe that she was sitting on her bedroom floor with Jeremy, his arms around her making her feel safe.

His hand was in her hair, Emeline feeling him place a gentle kiss on the top of her head. He pulls away slightly, neither of them releasing the other from their hold. She wanted to lean in. She could ask him right now if he would kiss her, regardless of if she was just crying or not. 

It was the alcohol.

But isn’t there something about how the things you want to do when you’re drunk are what you wish you could do when you’re sober? Was she just making that up?

Before either of them could say anything, Emeline’s phone starts buzzing, Keelan’s name appearing on the screen, the two of them practically launching off each other like two teenagers being caught by parents. 

Emeline stares at her phone, debating whether or not to answer it, Jeremy sitting as far away as he could. She hadn’t thought of Keelan in what felt like hours, let alone talked to him for him to know that she would still be up. Normally, she would be asleep right now, which is why him calling was even weirder, like he called knowing it would wake her up. 

But she wasn’t asleep, for once. She wasn’t talking to her boyfriend. Instead, Emeline almost just cheated on him with someone she didn’t realize she wanted to be with.

What was she supposed to do, though? She watched as the call went to voicemail, picking up her piece of pizza and staring at it. Her relationship with Keelan was one of the only things she could control, especially when it felt like everything else was spiraling.  

___________________________

The next morning, Emeline woke up with a headache that hadn’t gone away from the night before, the first and hopefully last hangover she would have. She walked to the kitchen, finding Maddy and Fran already nursing coffee and bagels from one of the local places, Emeline’s order waiting for her on the kitchen table. 

“What happened last night?” Emeline asks.

“I hate people,” Fran mumbles, not making eye contact. “That guy last night asked for my number and hasn’t texted me,” she explains.

“That’s normal though,” Emeline points out.

“Guys are idiots. They wait too long to text back. He’s probably just asleep still,” Maddy adds, pointing to the clock on their stove that showed it was 8:00 am, an ungodly hour to be awake given how late they were all up the night before. 

“It’s not that,” Fran sighs, covering her eyes with her hands. “I found his instagram, and he has a girlfriend.”

“Oh, so we’re killing him.” 

“Tell the girlfriend as soon as he texts you. Don’t even save the number so she can see it’s him, whatever he says,” Emeline tells her, Fran just nodding, looking upset.

“I got railed,” Maddy almost gloats, rather uncharacteristically, Fran and Emeline immediately snapping their attention to her.

“Hello?”

“By who?”

“I thought you swore off men.”

“I thought you only needed yourself to pleasure yourself.”

“And the rainbow dildo we bought as part of her graduation gift.”

“Guys, I’m telling the story, here?” Maddy chimes in. 

“Who was it?”

“How was it?”

“You two are worse than those talk show women,” Maddy groans, not hiding the smile on her face. “Who he is doesn’t matter. Other than his playlist choice, it was,” Maddy sighs, a gooey-lovey expression on her face that her roommates had never seen before. “God, it was great.”

“What was the playlist choice?” Emeline asks, her and Fran leaning closer. Maddy was throwing them crumbs, they needed more.

“It had a lot of Nickelback for some reason.” Emeline chokes on her coffee when the realization hits her, Fran laughing harder than Emeline’s coughs anyway. “We said next time, I can do the playlist.” 

Fran sits back in her chair, her expression and mood going back to what it was a few minutes earlier. “Fran, what’s wrong?”

“You get a next time?” 

“I mean,” Maddy starts, her and Emeline exchanging confused looks. “That’s what we had talked about?”

“I wish I got a next time.”

“Fran, what do you mean?” Emeline asks, seeing the tears starting in Frans eyes.

“What is wrong with me that I can never get past a one night stand or a first date? All I’m good for is one night and then I’m forgotten the next day. Fuck, I can’t even get the number of a guy who isn’t thinking about using me to cheat on his girlfriend” Maddy and Emeline both reach their arms across the table, Fran taking neither of them. “It just sucks seeing everyone happy when no matter what I do to try to be happy like that, it fails.”

“But you had someone here last night, didn’t you? I heard your playlist when I tried to come in,” Emeline asks.

Fran shrugs, not making eye contact with either of them. “I just had that on. I didn’t have anyone here.”

Emeline thinks back to last night, the details admittedly foggy thanks to the alcohol she hadn’t planned on drinking. She never actually heard Fran or anyone else in the apartment when she came in, unlike almost every other night the playlist was blasting.

“Fran, you’re amazing, though, the right person will find you.”

“See, I don’t believe you. It’s really easy to say that when that’s what we’re fed, but I have had failed date after failed date, hook up after hook up, and no matter how it goes or what happens or what they say, it ends after one night. I am told every single time in one way or another that I am not good enough for anything more than a single night, and it fucking sucks every time.” 

“I know,” Emeline says.

“No you don’t,” Fran snaps. “You don’t know. You don’t get it. You’ve been with Keelan for how many fucking years? You’ve been happy enough with him and been steady enough with him that you couldn’t get it. You even have Jeremy who is in love with you and wants to be with you, as if one guy wasn’t enough.”

“Jeremy is not in love with me,” Emeline tries to counter.

“Oh, shut the fuck up, Emeline,” Fran yells, Emeline flinching, “Jeremy loves you, and you’re falling in love with him, and you’re both too stupid to say anything. You don’t know what it’s like to have rejection after rejection while watching one of your best friends sit here trying to pick between a boy she barely cares about anymore and the neighbor who will probably end up becoming her husband, knowing that no matter what you do for yourself, there will never be a second date.” 

Fran gets up before Emeline could say anything else, her and Maddy both stunned by the insecurity they had no idea Fran had coming out like that. 

“I’m falling for him?” Emeline asks, saying it outloud for the first time.

“I think you might be, babe.” Emeline sits back, contemplating this realization that her roommates already had for her. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Emeline shakes her head. “Not really.” She needs to actually figure this out for herself. Jeremy couldn’t have liked her, anyway. There was no way he did. “I do want to talk about how you were the one sleeping with Johnny last night, though.” 

Maddy’s face immediately turns red, a smile still on her face. “How’d you know?”

“Jeremy and I walked in, heard the music and walked out,” she tells Maddy, both of them trying not to laugh. “I thought you were just friends.”

“Friends can turn into something more very easily.” 

[ghostwnby]

Crashing Tides

Authors note: So remember about 3 or 4 ish months ago I said I was working on a surfer shop worker!Daniel + moody rich 19 year old!Max age gap romance fic? Well, surprise! After a billion years the first part of it is finally here. I'm not 100% happy with it but I decided to finally just say fuck it and bite the bullet with it. I am hoping to write more in the future about this au but in the meantime if you have any suggestions or ideas about this au please feel free to share them with me :) my asks are always open <3 otherwise, I hope you enjoy!!

Warnings: language

Word count: 2,029 (2k)

----

The warmth of the Australian sun beats down harshly on Daniel’s skin as he tries his best to dodge and weave through the crowded boardwalk, not wanting to run anyone over with his bike. He wipes the layer of sweat that had gathered on his forehead off on the back of his hand, cringing slightly at the sheer amount of it. 

He silently regrets not taking a shower before leaving the house, but at this rate, with the amount of people blocking his way, he was going to be late.

Damn tourists. 

He can hear his boss, Mark, now: "Look, who finally decided to show up! I’m glad you think this company runs on your schedule.” He rolls his eyes at the mental image of the older Australian man passive-aggressively scolding him. You would think a person who owns a beachside surf shop would be more laid-back, but no. Ever since his wife left him last summer, his boss has been nothing but a crotchety old man. And trust me, Daniel has tried many times to invite him out to bars to be his wingman for the night, but every time he offers, he gets immediately shut down and scolded for even offering. 

Sorry, he was just trying to be a good co-worker and get his boss some stress relief in the form of a one-night stand with a beautiful lady. 

Pulling up to the shop, Daniel rushes off his bike, hastily reaching into his bag to grab his bike lock and securing it to the pole near the side of the building. Once secure, he practically bolts into the front entrance of the shop, accidentally slamming the door open a bit too hard for his liking, causing a few customers and his coworker, Lando, to perk their heads up and look in his direction. 

“I know. I know. But technically, I’m early. I still have a minute until I’m supposed to be here.” Daniel says matter-of-factly, shining a bright smile at the younger man as he walks up to the front counter that his co-worker is lounging lazily against. 

“You're cutting it close, mate.” Lando comments as he glances up at the shark-themed clock on the wall. (What? His boss might be an ass, but at least he’s an ass with good taste.) 

10:59 am

Lando shakes his head. “I don’t know if you want to push your luck too much. Mark is in a pissy mood today.” He explains.

Daniel rolls his eyes. “When is he not?”

Lando glances over his shoulder, making sure the door to the manager’s office is shut before whispering, “I don't know, mate; he seems grouchier than normal. Like something’s really ticked him off.” 

Daniel raises an eyebrow at the younger man. He opens his mouth to respond, but before he can, the door of the manager’s office slams open, revealing his boss on the other side.

“Speak of the devil.” Lando whispers as both of the men straighten back up as their boss steps out of his office. 

"Daniel, I'm so glad you finally decided to join us for your shift that you were scheduled for.” Mark greets, scowling at him.

“Good morning to you too, Mark.” Daniel says, not bothering to hide the sarcasm that coats his words. The older man scoffs at him, rolling his eyes in a way Daniel can only describe as Oscar-worthy with how dramatic it was. 

“Whatever. It’s not like I have been waiting for you all morning to get your lazy ass here.” Mark hisses, motioning his hand to the shark clock on the wall. 11:00 am. Daniel has to repress the urge to roll his eyes. He’s been there for less than 2 minutes, and he’s already having to deal with Mark’s bullshit. That has to be a new record. 

"Sorry, I wasn’t here earlier. Emily decided to have a breakdown this morning about having to stay with my parents for the day.” Daniel explains half-heartedly, knowing no matter what explanation or excuse he gives the older man, he’s not going to be pleased either way.

“Well, maybe you should invest in some parenting classes then since you aren’t doing a great job at controlling your kid.” Mark sneers, “You know what? Never mind, I don’t care at this point.” 

Daniel can feel his frustration growing by the second. Honestly can’t he just back off? He’s here, isn’t he? It’s not like he’s one of the only workers there, besides Lando, who does his job. If it wasn’t for the fact that the pay was nice, Daniel would have been out of there the second Mark started acting this way last summer. Plus he’s been working at the surf shop for almost 5 years now and what has he gotten for it? Nothing except for the temporary title of shift lead whenever Mark isn’t there. 

As if he can sense the tension in the air between the two older men, Lando decides to speak up. 

“Oh uh..by the way, Mark, this dude called earlier. I think he said his name was Jos? He said his son would be here around 11:30.” 

Lando and Daniel both watch as Mark inhales deeply as if Lando’s words were the most aggravating thing he has ever heard. 

“That brings me to my next point. A friend of my old man asked me to hire his son for the summer while they are vacationing here.” Mark explains. Daniel and Lando share a confused look. Mark continues, “The reason why? I have no clue. Something about how he wants his son to learn what the real world is like even though his pocket money is more than what we all make in a year combined.” 

Daniel raises an eyebrow at him, “And you just agreed? Just like that? Who’s going to train him?”

Mark smirks devilishly, “Well that’s where you come in Daniel.” 

“What do you mean ‘that’s where I come in’?”

“Well, you are always complaining that you’ve been here the longest and still haven’t gotten any type of raise or promotion. Well here you go, I’m promoting you to training associate. You are in charge of training the kid and also keeping an eye on him and making sure he doesn’t get into any trouble.” 

Daniel can’t help but feel the heat of anger from earlier rise beneath his skin. “So you expect me to not only train this kid I’ve never even met but also babysit the little brat as well? What the hell do you think I am? A damn babysitter?!” He snaps, crossing his arms and scowling at the older man. 

“I’m nineteen. I don’t need a babysitter.”

All three of the men snap their heads back towards the front door, only to see, who Daniel presumes is the kid Mark was mentioning, standing in the entryway. Daniel blinks as he tries to take in the teen’s appearance. He doesn’t look like any nineteen-year-old Daniel has ever seen. Sure, he has semi-smooth skin, with a blemish here and there, and an overall youthful glow about him but for some reason, something’s off about him. Maybe it’s the way his shoulders are a bit broader than his own or how his jaw is a bit too sharp for Daniel’s liking. Either way, he doesn’t like it.

“Max! I didn’t expect you to be here so soon! Is it 11:30 already?” 

Daniel glances at the clock on the wall. 11:09 am.

The teen trudges over to the front counter where the others are standing and crosses his arms. “My dad said I should show up early just in case you guys were busy or something. But, by the looks of it, you aren’t and are instead talking bad about me behind my back.” Max explains, not bothering to hide the annoyance in his voice. 

Daniel looks over at the teen, studying his face more intently now that he is standing next to him instead of a few feet away at the door. His brow is furrowed. His pale skin is tinted with a shade of pink from the harsh Australian sun. There is a collection of freckles that are scattered across his jawline and up to the middle of his cheek, with a single one lying on his upper lip. He notices now that the teen is just a bit taller than him. Not by much but enough to make Daniel even more wary than he was before. 

Mark shakes his head, “Please forgive my employee, Daniel, here Max. He has had a bit of a rough morning so his mood isn’t the best right now.” 

‘The only reason why I have had a rough morning is because of you jackass.’ Daniel thinks to himself as he shoots a glare at his boss. 

Max rolls his eyes, “Whatever.”

Daniel and Lando exchange glances once again, as if to telepathically ask each other if this is what they are really going to have to deal with for the next two and half months. 

The sound of Mark clearing his throat makes the two of them look up towards their boss. 

“Anyway, as I was saying. My employee, Daniel here, will be in charge of training you and just overall making sure you're settling in here nicely.” Mark explains, clearly trying to skip over the part where Daniel called Max a brat that he has to babysit. 

Daniel shifts his eyes over to the teen next to him. Max doesn’t look impressed. He still has his arms crossed and his lips have formed a tight line of annoyance. Honestly, Daniel can’t blame him. If he was in his shoes, aka if he was a rich kid who probably hasn’t worked a day in his life and his parents suddenly made him get a job at a dingy old surf shop while they were on a  summer vacation, he would be pissed too. 

There is a beat of awkward silence that fills the air between the four. 

“I’m guessing this is the part where I introduce myself?” Lando chuckles awkwardly, drawing the other’s attention to himself. Max stares at him silently, as if he is waiting for the other to say something else that will ultimately aggravate him even more. 

“I’m Lando. I started working here about a year and a half ago. I go to the university just up the street. I usually work in the mornings because I have night classes.” He explains. Max doesn’t say anything, instead, he sighs, uninterested. 

Lando scratches the back of his neck awkwardly, “Uh..When I’m not working or in class you can usually find me in my dorm playing video games.” The mention of video games makes the teen’s ears perk up with interest.

“You play video games?” Max asks in a slightly less annoyed voice than before.

“Yeah! I play all sorts of games like GTA, God of War, and F123. I actually stream my gameplay on Twitch with my friends from time to time. You should join sometime. I bet it would be really fun.” 

Daniel doesn’t know if it’s the heat getting to him or what but he swears he sees the faintest hint of a smile on Max’s face when Lando mentions him joining him in a gaming session. 

“I’ll think about it.” 

Seemingly pleased with the exchange, Mark claps his hands together like a coach trying to round up his team for a debriefing after a game. “Alright, now that introductions are out of the way, Max, how would you like to follow Daniel around for today to get a feel of the environment and how things work around here?” 

Daniel can feel the teen’s eyes on him before he even turns his head. His stare is as cold as ice and Daniel worries that if the teen doesn’t look away, he might burn a hole through his head. 

The universe must have been on his side because just as Daniel thought he would never look away, Max shifts his eyes toward Mark. The stare he gives Mark is just as cold. 

“Whatever.” 

“Perfect. Now let’s get started.”

[obsessivelokisimp]

Are you warm, Dear? - loki x reader oneshot

1004 words, gender neutral reader

Enjoy :)

It's Saturday. Or is it? You can't really tell anymore. All you know is that your blankets are much too warm. 

I'm not getting sick, you had told yourself for the past week, believing if you said it enough it would prove true. It did not, however, as anyone who looked at you now could easily tell.

It wasn't your best decision ever to continue going to work through the headaches and actual body aches you had been going through this week, but you told yourself it was fine. You couldn't afford to skip even a day, not with your crotchety old boss. Still, the pain from over-exerting yourself was now your punishment- and a fever on top of that.

You cough, and as you bring your hand up to your face to smother it, you can tell how sweat had accumulated under the multitude of blankets piled on top of you.

If only Loki was here, you think. He would cool me down. You don't often think of Loki's being a Frost Giant, and when you do it most definitely isn't with any scorn or fear, as he seems to think everyone does, or should. When you do, you simply thank the gods (or him? you weren't really sure how that worked) for the coolness his skin provided, even in his Asgardian form. 

But seeing as how you couldn't even remember what day it was, you definitely did not have the wherewithal to text him to come over. No, you would have to deal with it yourself. 

If only I could be rid of these bloody blankets. Your situation brought to mind old novels of a time when doctors thought any kind of air while sick was deadly to your condition, who kept their patients stuck under quilts and furs until they sweated the fever away. Ugh. 

This train of thought abruptly ends when you hear a knock at the door. You stare at the door for a moment, wondering how you were going to get up and answer it, when a voice puts your quick thoughts at ease.

"Darling? Are you home?"

It was Loki.

You call for him to come in, wincing at the croak in your voice. 

He opens the door with a concerned face, that quickly turns into alarm when he sees your state. You guess you must really look horrible for him to be so worried. 

"Hey," you say with as calm a voice as you could. In truth, you were almost shaking with relief. Your blankets would have been far too heavy to remove by yourself, but now there was no worry. 

He quickly shuts the door and walks over to kneel by your bed. 

"Are you well?" He asks, hesitant. 

You bite your lip, trying to hold back the reflexive snort at the question. 

No, obviously not you idiot. 

"I'm not exactly feeling the best, no."

He puts his hand on your forehead, and you sigh at the cold touch. 

His eyes narrow, and he says, "You have a fever, darling."

Thanks, captain obvious. You think, but it doesn't quite reach your lips. Instead you sigh and push your head against his hand.

He narrows his eyes at you but keeps his hand there. "Are you warm, dear?" He whispers the question, and you shiver. 

You can feel his smirk even with your eyes closed, and you listen as the gentle feeling of his magic fills the air. Sparkles always come to mind when you feel it, little pricks of warmth whirling around you. It's not a pleasant feeling with your current condition, but normally it's very comforting.

Your brain comes back and focuses as you feel Loki slip inside of the blankets with you. He doesn't have a shirt on, and you assume he used his magic to take it off.

You sigh again, pushing up against him to feel his cool skin. Your hands absently play at the marks on his chest, having memorized each bump long since. 

Eventually you grow tired and push your head against his chest. You stay like that for a while, Loki rubbing the small of your back with his hand, and you drift off, sleeping away the fever that was already much weakened in the face of your indomitable partner.

~~~

When you wake, He's still there, holding you gently against him. 

You pull away to stretch, and he lets you, stretching out his own arms as well.

"Hello," you say simply.

"Good evening sunshine."

You jolt, not expecting to have slept that long. "It's evening already?"

"Yes, you were asleep for quite a while." When you grimace, he quirks a brow. "Why does this distress you?"

"You got here this morning, I made you sit here and the hold me the entire time..."

His gentle smile makes something prickle in your veins, and you barely pull your attention back in time to hear him respond. "My dear, I have no problem holding you while you are sick, you have no need to worry. I enjoy holding you, you know this." 

You flush slightly. It was true, many times in the past he's come over for an evening just to snuggle up on the couch. You haven't quite got him to enjoy movies yet (too used to live theatre on Asgard, you suppose) but he lets you watch them as he enjoys your warmth.

"I only have one question." You nod, and he continues. "Why did you not summon me? I could've been here long before."

"Do you want the acceptable answer, or the truthful one?"

He rolls his eyes, and you grin at him from your spot in the nest of god-forsaken blankets still surrounding you.

"Truthfully, I couldn't reach my phone. I could barely move under the blankets."

He snickers slightly, and you glower at him. 

"I'm sorry, It's just... being trapped by a blanket, of all things."

"Blankets," you correct him. 

He only grins at you.

"Oh, you- come here!" 

And with that, you tackle him to the floor, finally escaping your blankets. You roll around on the floor, already feeling much better.

Afterwards, lying on the floor and breathless from laughing, you have a question for him. "Hey, do you know... Is it Saturday today?"

He takes a little too long to answer, so you turn your head to look at him, and you see him once again holding in a laugh. 

You sigh, yet you are still unable to hold back your grin.