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na-ta-sh-aa · 10 months ago

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I loved how in this chapter the love between Jake and Jessica was confirmed once again and above all how they both finally said that they love each other!🥹

"Come on, Smart Girl, use your big brain. What do you think is the most incredible tasting thing I've ever had my mouth on?"

"Damn," he murmured as he looked up at her and dragged his lips along her inner thigh. "So much better than the waffles."

Jake as usual knows how to make a girl melt🫠

"But you have nothing to be nervous about. Coyote already knows all about you and can't wait to meet you. Phoenix will be excited to have more estrogen in her presence. Fanboy will ask you if you like Star Trek or Star Wars better, and he'll judge you relentlessly based entirely upon your answer. Payback is probably the nicest person you'll ever meet in your life. And Bob will blush and stutter as soon as you shake his hand."

I love how Jake was able to describe each member of the Daggers so perfectly in so few words, plus I loved how he immediately noticed Jessica's nervousness and tried to calm her down🥹

"Can we not talk about Dev? On my birthday?" Jake drawled, downing half of his own bottle.”

Jealous Jake is back!

“The two beers she drank started to sour in her stomach as she watched the other woman reach for Jake's hand. None of this stuff seemed like such a big deal when he mentioned it last weekend, but now Jessica kind of understood things a little better. This is what Jake was used to, and she was nothing like these other women. Her black dress felt like it was mocking her now even as she just finished checking herself out in the bathroom mirror. She was more covered up than basically anyone here besides the bartenders, and she flushed in embarrassment.”

This part struck me so much because of the realistic way you wrote it, I felt the sense of embarrassment and almost inadequacy that Jessica was feeling. I think the fact that she saw with her own eyes what Jake had told her struck her much more. I was so sorry when Jessica thought that she was not like the other girls that were in the bar and she almost felt like she was less than the others. But I think that one of the many reasons why Jake fell in love with Jessica is precisely the fact that she is not like the girls he was used to, she is different but in the most positive way there is, the way in which she's so smart, her charm, sweetness and sense of humor are exactly what set her apart and what Jake can't live without anymore!

"Jessica," he barked, looking more upset than she'd ever seen him before as he grabbed her around the waist and pulled her closer to him in the crowd. She didn't try to fight him as his forehead came to rest against hers as a tear trickled down her cheek. "Baby. I'm in love with you."

"I love you. I love you, because you're not like everyone else. You're not offering to do that shit here, because you don't have to do anything like that to have all of my attention."

AHHH! He finally told her those three words he wanted to say to her for so long🥹

"Nobody else has ever called me smart before. Nobody else ever cared about my opinions before you, Jessica. You think anyone ever thought I might like to read a physics journal, let alone pick out some specifically covering topics that interested me? No. Just you," he said, kissing her forehead before continuing. "I love you, because you treat me better than anyone else ever has. You're actually perfect, Baby, and you treat me like I matter. And you made me work for it. I've been flying with a picture of you in my helmet bag so I can look at it whenever I want. I can barely handle going a day without seeing you. So when you ask me how long I see us staying together?" He sighed and studied her face before he said, "Forever? Or until you come to your senses? You tell me, Reedy."

The sweetness of these words made me move, they were so beautiful, and the fact that he wants to be with her forever? aww this is so perfect🥹

"I love you," he told her again, green eyes earnest. "I've never said that to a woman before tonight, but I love you so much, Jessica."

This sentence literally warmed my heart, a sentence that may seem normal on the surface but I think it has an immense and romantic meaning. I'm so happy that Jake said he loved her and that she was the first woman he said that to, it was such a magical and special moment🥹

“When she couldn't run across the parking lot in her heels, Jake carried her while she laughed. "I just want to get home, look at the cool birthday gift that's hanging on my wall, and unwrap you in bed."

The chapter was amazing as is the relationship between Jake and Jessica. I absolutely loved Jake's speech, how he pointed out how he has never been treated the way Jessica treats him, how he has never felt the way he feels with her, how she makes him feel important, intelligent and loved every day and how he reassured Jessica that it is precisely the fact that she is not like all the other girls that made him fall in love so strongly along with the way she treats him. Aww I love them so much, this was so wonderful!💗✨

Adult Education Part 19 | Hangman x OC

Summary: Jake's birthday starts out with the perfect breakfast in bed and ends with a night out at the Hard Deck with his girlfriend. Somewhere along the way, Jessica gets the wrong impression of the way he feels about her and the gift she got for him, but he's ready to straighten her out.

Warnings: Fluff, smut, oral, angst, language, drinking, 18+

Length: 4600 words

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Female OC

This story is part of the Beer Boy and Sugar universe but can be read on its own! Adult Education masterlist

Seriously, who let Jake on my masterlist!? Banner by @mak-32

Jake woke up late with sunlight on his face and Jessica still sound asleep next to him. His fingers were threaded through her hair, and his lips were close to her forehead. When she squirmed a little bit in her sleep, he kissed her, and she tucked herself under his chin.

"Happy birthday," she whispered, and he stroked his thumb along her cheek.

"You already told me that last night," he drawled softly.

"Is there a limit on how many times I'm allowed to say it today?" She kissed his Adam's apple and ran her fingers through his chest hair, and he melted at her touch.

"No," he whispered. "I'm just not used to anyone making a fuss over me."

"So you said," Jessica replied. "Do you want to make waffles? I'd offer to do it, but I think you should at least supervise."

Jake chuckled and pulled the blanket higher up over both of them. "Not yet," he murmured against her lips. "I just want a little bit more of this first." She let him pull her against his body while he rolled onto his back, and she ended up on top of him with a smile on her face. "God, Jessica," he whispered, tucking her hair behind her ear. "You're so fucking gorgeous."

He saw the blush that colored her cheeks before she rested her head against his chest. "I should be the one showering you with compliments today," she mumbled. "Not the other way around."

Jake grinned and tucked his hands behind his head. "Go for it," he said, and she met his eyes again. "Do your worst."

She took his chin in her hand and moved his head around at different angles. "You're okay looking," she said with a shrug. "For a blonde." She was obviously trying not to laugh as she said, "And your body is decent."

"Decent?" he repeated.

"Yeah. You heard me."

In an instant she was on her back with both of her hands pinned above her head in one of his, and Jake's fingers grazed her side. "There goes the idea I had where you were going to be nice to me all day."

She laughed and tried to squirm away from his fingers. "You told me to do my worst! You're hot, and you know it. Now don't you dare tickle me."

Jake winked at her before gently squeezing her below the ribs making her squeal. "That's just a little threat right there, Smart Girl. To keep you in line."

"I'll be nice!"

When he released her hands, she looped them around his neck and pulled him in for a kiss. She was still laughing, which made him laugh. And then Jake just made out with his girlfriend. His hands stayed on her waist even though she was naked and perfect, and hers remained on his shoulders and in his hair.

"I like this," he whispered against her neck. "Having you here is a nice birthday treat."

She nipped his lips and ran her nose along his cheek as their legs tangled together. "I like it, too." When she ran her nails along his scalp, he groaned and ended up curled up in her arms. "You're adorable," she whispered.

"I thought you said I was hot."

With a soft kiss to his forehead, she said, "You are. But that's not even close to being the best thing about you, Smart Boy."

Jake was so in love. It was time to say something. He was sure about it. But she pulled her hand away when his stomach growled, and she laughed. "Let's make waffles."

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

Jessica was wearing one of Jake's TOP GUN shirts and running back and forth between the waffle iron and the wall outside his bedroom door. "Is it straight?" Jake asked as he held up the print of his jet that she gave him for his birthday. And he was completely naked which just made it so much better.

"Wait!" Jessica called out as the waffle iron beeped. She was getting pretty good at this now. She made the batter this time with just the tiniest bit of help, and she knew just how much to scoop onto the iron to make them come out perfectly. Once a new waffle was cooking, she ran back to Jake again. He hadn't moved an inch, and when she checked to see how the frame looked, she kissed his back and said, "It's perfect."

He handed the frame to her, hammered the nail into the wall, and then hung it up. "I love this," he whispered. "Thank you."

Then he cut up strawberries again and ate a stack of three waffles that he told her were the most delicious things he'd ever had while she finished hers. "Actually... I lied," he said as he took the dishes to the sink. "They were definitely not the most delicious thing I've ever had."

"Oh." She felt a little dejected as she said, "I'm just getting used to making the batter, so I'm sure they'll be better next time." She was about to offer to wash the dishes when he started to grin at her. "What?"

"Come on, Smart Girl, use your big brain. What do you think is the most incredible tasting thing I've ever had my mouth on?"

"Oh!"

Approximately fifteen seconds later, Jessica was on her back in the middle of Jake's bed with the shirt pulled up to her chest and his lips on her pussy. She tried to push him away, tried to insist they could take a quick shower together first, but he wasn't having it.

He ran his tongue slowly, luxuriously up and down along her slit and whined her name as her back arched off the bed. "So sweet." He plucked meticulously at her clit with warm lips while he spread her open with his thumbs. "And so pretty." She could feel the cool air on her most intimate parts as he ran his nose and lips through her wetness, making her moan.

"Jake."

"Mmm. I love how you make it sound like so many syllables," he teased, looking up at her. "Like you can't get enough of saying my name." Jessica watched him lick his lips before he smirked, and then Jake spit on her pussy. She watched the strand of saliva leave his lips, and she felt it hit her clit, and she bucked up off the bed as his mouth met her once again.

She was panting, so turned on. She thought about the damp thong Jake had peeled off of her last night that was still somewhere on his floor. He'd fucked her slow and steady after that, but now he was eating her like he was starving. "Oh my god," she groaned when she felt him suck on her a little hard. "Oh hell." It was pleasure skimming the line of pain, and he soothed her with his tongue before doing it again.

"That's it," he grunted when she started rolling her hips up to meet his face. He licked her with his tongue flat and firm while she rubbed her pussy against him, completely out of control now. Her fingers were curled in the bedding, and she was digging her heels in as she got closer. Just a little bit closer.

When he wrapped his lips around her clit and cradled her rear end with both hands, Jessica came, thrusting against his handsome face and shaking her head. She was still hanging onto the bedding, her brain feeling fuzzy as he plucked at her with his lips, drawing out every little aftershock until she was giggling deliriously.

"Damn," he murmured as he looked up at her and dragged his lips along her inner thigh. "So much better than the waffles."

"Jake," she gasped, his name coming out with surprised laughter as she carefully propped herself up on her elbows. He was kissing her knee now and running his hands along her skin, but she noticed his cock was so hard, so red and so ready to go. "Are you gonna fuck me, birthday boy?"

His eyes went a little wide as she bit her lip. "Is that okay?"

She nodded. "Absolutely."

In an instant he was easing his cock inside her and kissing her lips. "I didn't want it to feel like too much," he whispered, his voice ragged as he started to thrust. He tasted like her, and she was exhausted, but it still wasn't too much at all. Not with the way he was already so close, and the way he talked her through it. "I didn't want you to think I expected anything more than the pleasure of my mouth on your body."

She moaned and raked her fingers through his hair as he filled her up. He was sweet and loving, and there were so many things she wanted to tell him. But as soon as he was spent, both of them curled up together and fell asleep.

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

Jake watched Jessica parade out of the bathroom wrapped up in one of his towels. She was insistent that she spend an obscene amount of time on her hair and makeup. Sure, she looked good, but she looked great all the time. He lounged back on the bed, already dressed and ready to go as she finally dropped the towel and started to put on the little lingerie set she brought with her. God, he wished that lived in his closet permanently.

He grinned as she hooked the black bra that he would be taking off again later, and he said, "Dinner's in the oven."

"Okay," she replied, smoothing the lace against her body before she pulled a little black dress on. "How does this look? Because if it's not okay, I brought like five others to choose from."

Jake raised one eyebrow. "Is this some sort of joke? You look perfect, Baby."

"Are you sure?" she asked, adjusting the fabric across her ass and only making the damn thing look even better. "I want to make a good impression, you know?"

Jake laughed. "You're worried about that?"

"Well... yeah."

He sat up and reached for her. "You know Bradshaw and his Sugar will be there."

"It's so funny to me that he calls her that, because she's such a hardass when she needs to be," Jessica replied with wide eyes.

Jake snickered, well aware of that dynamic by this point. "I think that's why he loves her so much," he muttered, wrapping his hands around Jessica's thighs. "But you have nothing to be nervous about. Coyote already knows all about you and can't wait to meet you. Phoenix will be excited to have more estrogen in her presence. Fanboy will ask you if you like Star Trek or Star Wars better, and he'll judge you relentlessly based entirely upon your answer. Payback is probably the nicest person you'll ever meet in your life. And Bob will blush and stutter as soon as you shake his hand."

"I might be the one stuttering," she whispered nervously as she adjusted her glasses with the backs of her fingers.

He stood and wrapped an arm around her waist. "You'll feel better after we eat," he promised.

She gasped in delight when she saw that tray of chicken and vegetables he pulled from the oven. "My grandma used to make these kinds of dinners on birthdays, and I guess it kind of stuck. I'll make one for your birthday, too." He realized that was five months away, but he meant every word of it.

"With all the fancy herbs and everything?" she asked softly.

"Of course. All the fancy shit."

He watched Jessica take a bite of food, and all he wanted to do was drag her back to bed for the night as she closed her eyes and moaned softly. "It's so good. Oh my goodness, Jake!" She cleaned her plate and got more, and he told himself he'd make it again sooner than her birthday.

When she offered to wash the dishes, he said, "I'll do them tomorrow. Let's get to the bar and get back home for the night."

After she slipped on a pair of red high heels that he'd never even seen before, he led her out to his new truck and helped her in. She talked a little bit more about work and her tenure review as he drove, and Jake realized how much happier she seemed when she didn't have to see Brian every day. He wondered what it would be like when that asshole came back to work. He would have to make sure he visited her office hours with enough frequency to keep Brian in line and keep his hands and nasty words to himself.

"It's so cute!" Jessica gushed when he pulled into the Hard Deck parking lot.

He laughed and said, "Don't let Penny hear you call it that. It's a Naval hangout, Reedy. Supposed to be a little rough around the edges."

She gave him an incredulous look. "Just like you're supposed to be a little rough around the edges? Since you're in the Navy? Yeah, nobody's buying that."

"Come here," he whined, and a second later, she was on her back on the front seat with Jake's lips hovering over hers. He had one hand up under her dress, wrapped around her bare thigh and the other stroking her collarbone.

"How do we keep ending up like this?" she asked as he moved his hand slowly down to her knee and then her ankle while he kissed her neck.

"I have very poor self control when it comes to you."

Her skin was soft and warm everywhere beneath his hands and lips, but he knew she was right when she said, "We have to go in and have at least one drink." So they walked across the parking lot holding hands, and Jake didn't even bother to fix the little smear of her lipstick next to her bottom lip. In fact, he kind of hoped their kissing was evident on his own mouth, too.

But after they were inside for about ten seconds, he started to feel a little apprehensive. The girls from last weekend were back, and they spotted him right away. He wrapped his arm around Jessica's waist as she smiled up at him and fixed her glasses. But the bar was also filled with a lot of women he'd hooked up with in the past, some on a regular basis. He felt warm and a little bit embarrassed already, even though his girlfriend didn't seem to notice.

"I know it's your birthday, but you have to buy me a Sam Adams," she teased, leaning up to kiss his cheek. He felt a little bit better as he ordered two beers from Penny. While they waited, he saw Bradshaw over by the pool table in an obnoxiously bright tie dye shirt and backwards cap, with his lips pressed to his wife's ear. Jake used to think they were a little bit ridiculous, but now he got it. He understood what that felt like as he turned toward Jessica again and kissed her next to her lipstick smudge.

When the beers were set down in front of them, Jake cleared his throat and said, "Penny, my dear, this is Jessica. My girlfriend."

He saw the bar owner's eyes go wide as they settled on her face. "Wow. It's a pleasure to meet you, Jessica."

"Likewise," she replied with a smile. "Jake told me not to tell you that I think your bar is cute, but I really do think it's kind of cute." She gestured to all the personalized mugs hanging from the ceiling with a laugh.

"Thank you," Penny replied. "It's like they don't think anything related to the Navy can also be whimsical."

A minute later, Jake was leading Jessica toward the pool table while she giggled. "You just couldn't help yourself, huh? Now everyone's going to like you, and the secret's going to be out."

"What secret?" she asked as he let his hand settle low on her hip.

"That I'm dating a nice girl."

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

"Advanced Physics! Welcome to the Hard Deck." Jessica just gaped at her friend. Gone were the tweed skirts and pants and loafers. She looked devastatingly sexy in a black bodysuit and jeans with dark red lipstick and her husband's hand on her waist.

"You look nice," Jessica told her as she started to rethink the rather modest dress she was wearing herself. Actually, most of the other women here were wearing essentially nothing, and she wouldn't be surprised if she saw someone else's breasts soon.

"Hey, Jess," Bradley said, barely taking his eyes off his wife. "The beers here aren't as good as the ones Dev makes at Beta."

"I don't mind," she replied, taking a sip of her Sam Adams. It was still one of her favorites.

"Can we not talk about Dev? On my birthday?" Jake drawled, downing half of his own bottle.

Before Jessica could even respond, there was a petite brunette woman in front of her, eyeing her up and down. "You're joking, right? Hangman? You're dating Jake?" Jessica felt her cheeks grow warm in embarrassment, unsure what to say. "What do you possibly see in him?" she asked, sending a smirk in Jake's direction.

"And here we go," he muttered, kissing Jessica's cheek. "Jess, this is Phoenix."

But before she could even respond, Payback and Coyote were both there, too. And then she got cornered in a conversation about the Marvel Cinematic Universe with Fanboy. And Bob did in fact blush when Jessica told him she was pleased to meet him. Then she had a really nice conversation with Coyote about fuel combustion, and Jake handed her another Sam Adams with a smile before he started to play pool.

She was surprised at how easygoing and welcoming everyone was. She supposed it wasn't so long ago that the group had welcomed Bradshaw's wife with open arms, because she was clearly one of them now. This evening was turning out really nice. Well, other than the two girls who were looking at Jake like he was a snack.

"Wanna play?" Jake asked, holding out his pool cue for her.

"Sure," Jessica replied. She watched Bradley re rack the balls, and he let her break. So she did, forgetting herself for a moment. She ran the table just like she always did, sinking shot after shot, leaving nobody else a chance to even go against her. When she was done, she looked up and stood to her full height to find everyone gaping at her. "Oh. I'm sorry."

Jake burst out laughing, head tipped back in delight. "That's my fucking girl. Physics mastermind."

"Damn," Payback said, clearly impressed. "Usually nobody can beat me."

Jessica shrugged and said, "I could give you lessons?"

Now everyone was talking and laughing, and Phoenix winked at her as Jake backed her up towards the wall. "That was so hot, Baby," he whispered. "So fucking hot." His lips skimmed the shell of her ear, and heat flared through her belly as she gasped.

"Jake," she whispered, reminding him they definitely weren't alone.

"I'll behave until I get you back home," he promised, but she could feel his hand slide down from her back to her butt, and somehow she doubted it.

She spent the next hour feeling too hot while she tried to tone down her pool playing skills a bit. Every time Jake looked her way, she felt herself clench with need, and eventually she excused herself to the ladies' room.

"I'll be right back," she promised after he pointed in the direction of a narrow hallway on the other side of the bar. It was thankfully cooler back here and a lot quieter, too. Jessica took a few minutes to get herself under control. It must be obvious to everyone what she was thinking about doing with Jake later in the privacy of his condo. She washed her hands and realized that her lipstick was smudged, but when she checked herself in the mirror to fix it, she looked happy.

With a smile, she smoothed down her dress and headed back out into the noisy bar toward the group of aviators. But she stumbled in her heels when she saw Jake next to the jukebox with his back to her and a girl wearing tiny shorts in his personal space. Jessica didn't even need to be good at reading lips to know that she just told Jake I miss you.

The two beers she drank started to sour in her stomach as she watched the other woman reach for Jake's hand. None of this stuff seemed like such a big deal when he mentioned it last weekend, but now Jessica kind of understood things a little better. This is what Jake was used to, and she was nothing like these other women. Her black dress felt like it was mocking her now even as she just finished checking herself out in the bathroom mirror. She was more covered up than basically anyone here besides the bartenders, and she flushed in embarrassment.

Jessica took a few steps closer while Jake pulled his hand free, but she could clearly hear the woman ask him, "Do you remember what I gave you for your birthday last year? I could take you outside and suck your cock again. Or we could hook up in your truck like a few months ago."

Jake was adamantly shaking his head and backing up, turning toward the bathroom, and then he saw Jessica standing right there. "Reedy," he groaned miserably, reaching out for her just as she stepped further away from him. "Please."

Tears filled her eyes as she watched the other woman grin before walking away, and if she was embarrassed before, now she was mortified. Jessica got Jake an actual birthday present and wrapped it up for him when she should have been offering to do those kinds of things instead? Why was she even here? And how many of these women were looking at her with pity in their eyes, because they knew she was completely out of her depth?

"God, I miss Chippy's," she gasped softly as she tried to turn away from her boyfriend.

"Baby, listen," he begged, ending up in front of her again no matter which way she turned. "I haven't even looked at her in months. Since before we met!"

She kind of nodded as her lips quivered. It wasn't that she didn't believe him. "I know," she managed, trying to look at him through her tears. "I'm just embarrassed about what I gave you for your birthday. I mean, I can give you a blowjob here if that's what you want. I just...didn't know."

He dropped his hands to his sides and looked at her as if she'd just slapped him. "That's not... Jessica, that's not what I want." He swallowed hard and raked his fingers through his hair as he groaned and looked at the floor.

"I should have put all the pieces together," she whispered. "I never offered to do anything like that for you before." Her mind was filled with the image of some other woman going down on him right outside where anyone could stumble upon them in the darkness, and she hiccupped awkwardly. The next sentence was out of her mouth before she could even consider her words. "How long do you really see us being together?"

She closed her eyes as more tears fell. "You are?" she asked in disbelief as he pressed her back against the wall next to the jukebox, afraid to meet his eyes. She'd almost said the words before, but she convinced herself it was too soon for them.

"Reedy," he gasped, wiping at her tears behind her glasses with his rough thumbs. "Please look at me." When she opened her eyes, his expression was soft but anxious, and he moved one hand back to her waist like he was afraid she was going to try to run away. "I love you. I love you, because you're not like everyone else. You're not offering to do that shit here, because you don't have to do anything like that to have all of my attention."

She stared at him with softly parted lips while her heart pounded, and he kissed her. "Jake," she whispered against his lips, and he kissed her harder. His hand was a little rough now as he tipped her chin up so she was looking at him.

She threw her arms around his neck so hard, he grunted as he caught her. "I love you, too. And I'm sorry I said that. I didn't mean it. I'll never come to my senses."

Jake laughed, and something like a giggle mixed with a sob escaped Jessica's lips before he kissed her again. It was really loud inside the bar now, but they were tucked right next to the jukebox like they were alone, and he dragged his lips against hers and tasted her tongue until he was practically gasping for air. "I love you," he told her again, green eyes earnest. "I've never said that to a woman before tonight, but I love you so much, Jessica."

She scraped her nails along the stubble on his jaw and cupped his cheek, her heart ready to overflow. "Will you let me beat you at pool one more time before we leave?"

"Anything you want," he promised with a grin.

Jessica managed to inadvertently ensure her victory as she whispered to Jake how much she loved him until his cheeks were flushed and he was missing almost every shot. "I don't even care," he announced after she won. Then he quickly said goodnight to everyone else and accepted birthday hugs as he held onto Jessica's hand.

When she couldn't run across the parking lot in her heels, Jake carried her while she laughed. "I just want to get home, look at the cool birthday gift that's hanging on my wall, and unwrap you in bed."

Two hours later, when he finally completed everything on his list and finished making love to his girlfriend, Jake lounged back against his pillow as he caught his breath.

"Did you have a nice birthday?"

"The best."

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

Jessica basically only needs to exist to have Jake's full attention. I'll be wrapping up this series soon! Get at me if there's something you're dying to see! Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

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darkartsandcrafts · 5 years ago

Text

The Best Of

The Goldfinch AO3 tags

Deepest apologies to the authors. Probably of interest only to @wellntruly and maybe @antiquesfreaks

this is so niche, if a single person reads it i will be happy, it is completely self indulgent, Imaginary Rain , [theodore decker voice] i'm a homosexual having a panic attack, also xandra is there I guess, ITS ABOUT THE YEARNING, theo has a crisis because thats his Brand, theo's a whole mess, boris is a slightly different mess, theo is a little bitch, sad times with boris &theo what else is new, apocalypse in a very american sense, they live in Costco, they r just liddol creatures, i am a SLUT for water, this is basically just a love letter to the desert and the sky, Alternate Universe - No Pennywise, Not really a fic as much as it is an experiment

Romantic Face Punching, i mean.... that's literally a tag so i'll use it, It's bittersweet my dudes, boris waxes poetic about his bird, russian vampire that glows, it was way too easy for me to project onto Boris, theo said 'nothing rly happened in antwerp', i said 'you are an unreliable narrator and a Fool please step aside', Theo Decker should be considered his own warning, Theo Decker's Toxic Masculinity, rip to donna tartt but I'm different so they're lesbians now, there will be smut but it will be artsy, and theos parents but who can be asked to put them, Hurt No Comfort

Well maybe a little bit of comfort, The briefest and barest mention of Boris's fuck-me pumps, some real basic bitch fic but I had to get it out of my system, I promise this isn’t as depressing as it sounds, the sharp ache of memory, the thrill and terror of getting what you want,

Excessive Drinking

Heavy Drinking

Drinking to Cope

Alternate Universe - Normal High School, Magical Realism, take shot every time theo says fuck and/or is gay and bitchy, its a TURNBULL AND ASSER SUIT, Gratuitous Fleetwood Mac Referencing, slight drowning mention, underage lots of things because its them, google translate Russian, Underage Drinking but like this is the Goldfinch we’re talking about, theo has been to therapy and knows one (1) distress tolerance technique, Theo's too neurotic to top but can unrepress just enough to bottom, i like to believe donna tartt would condone this if she believed in love, They really put that scene in the movie huh, TOO MANY REFERENCES AND I AM NOT EVEN SORRY FOR THEM

donna tartt i just want to talk

and he cries his eyes out and they listen to the magnetic fields, nostalgia for two days ago, they listen to music and flop around, they're a little drunk but when aren't they, Boris POV bc theo pov is difficult and also depressing, theo isn't as canonically repressed here oops, theo did write boris a letter he just never included it bc it's gay, i hope they know i would die for them, @ donna tartt u too bitch i love u, Heavy pining you guys, i went hard with the hand holding in this, They've kind of gotten their lives together!, Boris still works in art crime though, they're drunk

but what else is new, idk if this is good or if im just on my third drink, is it homo to want to kiss your best bro? maybe so, no homo your way out of this decker, boris is basically a pillow princess but who’s surprised, smoking in bed is an activity for french movies and repressed gays, we don’t admit to feelings we emotionally repress like men, obviously boris is into some kinky shit, boris is dead sorry

very sad actually, the world needed some boris' pov so i did my job, i'm not projecting onto theo he's just me, i'm not even projecting onto theo anymore he's literally me, i managed to write some sort of happy ending, it was way to easy to write from theo's pov and i'm worried, interpret the end how you want i guess, it was so easy to project onto theo it's kinda concerning, They weirdly don't do drugs in here, the usual shit that happens in goldfinch, the boys go rollerskating, Like Really Fucking Sad, flangst city bois, theo is a clingy drunk, if only he were like this when he’s sober, Theo committed suicide, I mean Theo really did it, Boris didn't stop him, Theo may not like this, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Theo is a pretentious dick, Mental Institutions, one instance of projectile vomiting, Questionable Marriage

#These are just in reverse chronological order #linebreaks to make it readable and occasionally for emphasis #I've read precisely none of these but will try to when my brain works #the goldfinch #found poetry

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cutiepisenpai · 2 years ago

Text

Summary: Part 4 Undertaker has a new guest in his shop a young woman who had drowned in the lake.

Warnings: none

A/N: There will be one final part after this hopefully soon (permitting my brain decides to keep working). Hope you are all enjoying this.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 5

Undertaker is leaning against a fence while a funeral takes place. He is waiting for it to end so that the coffin can be transported to the cemetery. He is lost in thought lately, his thoughts have been clouded with her. He had gone to the lake that her body had been pulled from. He saw nothing special about it; there wasn't much nearby a lot of forested areas and the some small towns in the distance he thought it better to not ask too specific questions. Being around here as of late has become rather difficult, he does not understand what she actually feels for him. She flirts and then simply carries on afterward as if nothing happened, he can't get a read on her.

A hand grasping his arm pulls him from his thoughts. He looks to see her smiling brightly at him.

"You shouldn't be out here dearie, someone may recognize you."

"Doubtful. It's nice to go out during the daytime, to feel the sun." She says, pointedly standing in the sunlight with her face in the light. She had only been leaving the parlor at night when there are less people out and about and even then it wasn't often.

"One of these days you learn the hard way why you should listen to me."

"Oh is that so… and what will happen if I don't listen to you?” She asks.

"Must you behave like that? "

"I just want to enjoy the beautiful day."

"Just try not to draw any attention to yourself."

"Yes sir."

To that response Undertaker let out a groan and refused to look at her. He is sure that she has a smug look on her face.

"I suppose you will be departing soon to finish your work today." She says.

"Yes soon. But I shall enjoy the nice day while I can."

"See now you have the right idea."

"I never knew I could miss being outside this much."

"Do you really enjoy it?" He asks, looking over to her.

"Of course I used to spend hours outside, although not in a busy city such as this."

"Is that so.."

Her eyes were closed but it looked like she was seeing something even then.

"The meadow in the spring, playing at the pond in the summer, the crunch of leaves in the fall, and beautiful fresh snow in the winter."

It was obvious to the Undertaker that this was her retelling her memories whether or not she was aware of it.

"Sounds lovely."

"It was." She opens her eyes to look over at him. "What's that look on your face?"

"Oh nothing dear. You should make your way back to the shop, it's time for me to move along with my work."

The Undertaker made his way to the church to retrieve the coffin and transport it to the cemetery when he saw an older woman looking out in the distance. The woman happens to be the wife of the deceased.

"Is something the matter, Madam?"

"That young woman you were just with.." she says gesturing to the departing woman. "She looks so much like my elder sister (Nickname) although I know it couldn't possibly be her."

The older woman's eyes follow her until she is out of sight. Undertaker is silent taking in what is happening.

"I suppose that is just the kind of day it is, seeing the dead." She says as she turns to leave.

****

"Dearie, I have returned." Undertaker announces entering the shop.

"Hello, look at what I've done." She proudly proclaims waking the piece of fruit in her hands to gather his attention.

"And just what have you done to this fruit?" Taking it from her to examine.

Undertaker notices a row of perfectly precise sutures.

"So what do you think? Hmm, did I do good?"

"They are perfect, you must have been practicing for quite some time."

"I have and I also have notes on how to care for our dearly departed guests all you have to do now is actually teach me and I will be the perfect assistant."

Is this really what you want? Is this the life you would choose for yourself? He thinks to himself. But he smiles and ruffles her hair.

“Yes, keep working like this, and I should fear that you are trying to replace me.”

“I could ever replace you, you should go clean up. You smell like grave soil.”

“Yes of course, dear.”

When the undertaker returns downstairs he sees her preparing tea and biscuits while humming to herself.

“(Nickname).” he calls.

She turns to look at him, waiting for him to say something.

“Did you need something?”

“Ah, no it’s nothing.”

They go about the rest of their evening chatting and enjoying the tea and biscuits. Undertaker has gotten closer to finding out exactly what is going on. But if he solves this mystery will she decide to stay or leave and move on with her life.

#undertaker imagines #black butler undertaker #undertaker black butler #undertaker #undertaker x reader #undertaker kuroshitsuji #kuroshitsuji scenarios #kuroshitsuji imagines #kuroshitsuji #undertaker black butler x reader #black butler imagines #black butler

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inviberu · 3 years ago

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music box

Confessing was no easy thing, especially for someone like Heath who could barely take a compliment without his cheeks burning red. When someone suggested he should give a gift instead, the gears inside his head started to turn. The most beautiful gift of all is one that comes from the bottom of one's heart—the question is: what was it?

Heath didn't know how to express his feelings without getting too many butterflies in his stomach to the point that he has to bend over to calm himself down or without tripping over his words and forgetting everything he planned to say. His cheeks would flare up and he would tear his gaze away from your figure as he told himself inside his head: "Not today, maybe not tomorrow either…."

Faust could barely stand the way Heath kept on backing out at the last minute during his decisions to finally confess his feelings. Faust pushed up his glasses and crossed his arms with a stern look on his face as he sighed. Heath sat up straighter, hoping that Faust wasn't about to scold him about something related to missions, unaware that Faust called him to his room to talk about more… personal matters instead of their line of work.

"I know there's a lot of stuff going on inside your head, but you shouldn't let it affect you when you're doing missions." Every word that came from Faust's lips was a lie to disguise his genuine concern for his student—roundabout, as a lot of Eastern folk are. Upon seeing Heath's face contort into one of slight panic, Faust immediately followed up with a question: "What is it that's bothering you anyway?"

Another lie. Faust already knew well what the source of Heath's worries is but he'd rather have Heath be unaware of the fact that he's been paying attention to him. Heath glanced down, a light hue of pink dusting his cheeks and Faust could already tell what this was about even if he hadn't known about Heath's countless attempts to confess to you before.

"Faust-sensei… do you know how to confess to someone?" Heath's unexpected question caught Faust off guard, his eyes widening in surprise before letting out a small cough after regaining his composure.

"C-Confess?" Faust tried his best to play dumb. "Like those love confessions?"

Heath nodded slowly, "I've been trying to confess to someone for a while now but… I keep on getting scared at the last minute. It's like the fear of being rejected suddenly walking up behind me and grabbing my shoulder."

"... You're a wonderful young man, Heath. I doubt there's anyone out there that would reject you" Faust closed his eyes as he tipped his hat slightly, trying his best to reassure him.

"Plus, you'll never know the answer unless you go for it." Faust chuckled, a smile forming on his face. Heath's eyes twinkled all of a sudden and felt his enthusiasm bounce back up as he grabbed Faust's hands into his own—Faust's expression slowly turning to one of discomfort.

"Then… Can you help me?" Heath asked hopefully.

"Me…?" Faust exclaimed, his glasses almost dropping down.

"W-Well only if you want to! I wouldn't dare force you to help me against your wishes..."

"I suppose I can try… I can't guarantee anything, of course." Faust agreed reluctantly and Heath beamed, his smile widening in happiness as he said his thanks to the Eastern teacher. "Well, first of all, if you find yourself unable to speak in front of them… don't you think there's a better alternative rather than confessing in person?"

After all this time, Heath had always tried to confess to you upfront and had never bothered to consider any other options until Faust brought it up. Heath wanted to curl up and bury himself six feet under at the sudden realization, feeling as if all this time spent was just used for needless worrying.

"Like a letter of sorts?" Heath asked carefully. Faust shook his head and merely answered his question vaguely.

"Something that comes from the heart." He pointed towards Heath's heart. "You're good at craftsmanship, aren't you? Why not make good use of that?"

A few days had already passed since Faust made that remark—living inside Heath's brain with no signs of leaving soon. A letter would've been easier but after taking it into more consideration, as well as Faust’s words, he decided to give it more thought. What was another alternative? A gift instead of a letter, perhaps? Heath ruffled his hair, deep in thought as he sat on one of the cushioned seats inside the lounge.

“Heathcliff?” A voice called out, snapping Heath out of his daze and adjusted his vision to the person in front of him—the northern wizard, White. Curiously, he asked, “is there something troubling you? Won’t you allow this old man to help if so?”

“Sir White… it’s nothing important, I appreciate the offer though.” Heath shook his head, trying to brush off White’s offer as politely as he could. White merely crossed his arms, nodding his head before a smug and knowing smile took over his face—as if he already knew what was troubling Heath without having him say anything.

“Ohoho… it’s about the matters of the heart, is it not?” Bullseye. Heath felt as if his heart was about to jump out of his chest, unable to hide the surprise evident in his expression. White didn’t wait for an answer, for he already knew he struck gold—he let out a laugh. “It’s written all over your face! A young man falling victim to love… is what your expression is saying.”

Heath covered his face by instinct, horrified at the newfound information that it was written all over his face. He wished he could keep a poker face like Lennox, perhaps that way he wouldn't be so easy to read—unaware that was precisely one of his charming points.

“Haha… is it that obvious?” Heath muttered weakly, burying his face into his palms and White only chuckled at the cute display. “Sir White, do you know of any good gifts fit for a confession?”

White rubbed his chin, deep in thought. A fitting gift for a love confession—one would normally think of something like flowers or sweets as if it was valentine's day, that was the textbook answer, though when White glanced at Heath and remembered his knack for machinery and the likes, he suddenly remembered of that one era that had a specific trend.

“It's a bit old fashioned but back in the day, music boxes were the trend. Why not make one with music that reminds you of your beloved? Wouldn't that be perfect for someone like you?” White beamed, smiling as if he gave a groundbreaking piece of advice. Heath’s eyes widened ever so slightly with his mouth agape as he thought about his words; music boxes were indeed old fashioned as you wouldn't see it normally these days.

“Me…? Make a music box?” He has never tried it before, especially not for a special someone, though he was confident he's able to make one if he tried.

“Ohoho, you’re good with machinery, are you not? Why not put those skills to use to make a heartfelt gift?” White nodded enthusiastically. Heath couldn't help but get lost in his thoughts, already trying to figure out how he was going to construct one—it seems like the young master has already figured out which gift he should give.

Heath spent his days holed up inside his room by his desk, materials sprawled all over with chunks of wood littered around after he had carved the finest wood he could get his hands on after returning to the East for a short while. A focused look adorning his face as he drowned out the noises surrounding him, immersed in his craft.

Countless music sheets were crumpled and thrown to the bin at the side which was overflowing with scrapped pieces—music pieces. Heath was no expert like Rustica when it came to music composition, he had left his seat several times to consult the Western Wizard in order to make sure the music wasn't disappointing and was able to convey his feelings, somehow.

He planned to leave the box and a note anonymously, though he already suspected it wasn't going to be very discreet as he started carving the box with the same carving he engraved into Shino’s magic tool. One look at it and you would be able to guess who did the carving, for it was named Blanchett for a reason.

He added the finishing touches, blowing the small particles of dust away that remained in the corners before opening the box as a sweet, soft melody started to play—its gears turning as it played music flawlessly. Heath smiled at the music box he created, proud. He put all of his feelings of adoration for you inside one box, only revealing itself if you decide to open it, akin to Pandora's box.

As if reciting his last prayer, he clutched it tightly as he muttered his spell under his breath before standing up and deciding to leave it by your doorstep—this time, he'll let you know of his feelings.

As he arrived at your doorstep, he quietly wished that you weren't inside your room because that would make things complicated as Heath already felt like he was doing something scandalous. His cheeks burned red as he quickly dropped the music box as well as a small note before knocking once and scurrying off back to his room where he could finally put his mind to rest.

You opened the door, greeted by no one but a mysterious box and a small note that didn't indicate whoever sent it to you for there was no name. Without much hesitation, you picked it and inspected it—the intricate design catching you off guard as you recognized it as the same one present in Shino’s magical tool. And the one who made it was none other than Heath himself, that only meant one thing—Heath was behind this mysterious set-up. You felt your chest bubble up in excitement, an uncontrollable smile forming in your face as you felt giddy.

You opened the note, it read: For you have captured my heart, I offer this gift to you.

You felt your heart leap at the words you read, scanning it once again to make sure your eyes weren't playing tricks on you, cheeks heating up as you realized what this meant. You quickly opened the box, not expecting a few blue butterflies to come out and fly around you as a soft melody played from it—a music box Heath made just for you. You could feel his magic from the box, did he imbue his magic? You suspected as much.

The longer you listened to the music, the more you felt like running to his room to tell him you felt the same way. There wasn't a single thing stopping you from doing so. With a determined look on your face, you started heading towards his room. Fortunately, you saw him walking in the hall, it seems like he hasn't arrived in his room yet.

You took the opportunity to jump at him, his arms instinctively wrapping themselves around you, panic was written all over his face when he realized it was you who threw themselves at him. With the proximity between the two of you, you placed a chaste kiss on the tip of his nose. His heart felt like it was about to explode.

“W-What are you doing!?” He grabbed you by the shoulders and tried to push you away in an attempt to calm his racing heart. You smirked as you felt like teasing him more, though the huge smile on your face was unfitting as you told him:

“You could've told me in person… but, I like you too, silly!”

#mhyk #mhyk writing #my writing #promise of wizard #mhyk x reader #heathcliff blanchett x reader #promise of wizard heathcliff #heathcliff blanchett #mhyk heathcliff #heathcliff x reader #heath x reader #no beta we die like white

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kiir-bee · 8 years ago

Text

The Europenor Party

Summary: Since the UK is leaving the European Union, the Bad Touch Trio decides to throw a farewell party. One-shot.

Pairing: mainly FrUK; Spamano and PruCan; mentions of some others

Rating: T

Warnings: —

Words: ~4600

Read on:

Fanfiction.net: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12426825/1/The-Europenor-Party

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10510398

AN: I came up with this fanfic while watching a Spanish comedy news broadcast called El Intermedio; they were talking about Brexit, and the presenter said that Europe should throw a Europenor party for the UK, and since I've sold my soul to Hetalia, well, I wrote this :P I don't know what my original intention was, but it certainly wasn't to write about FrUK. It just happened ._. Still, I'm happy with the result, even though I feel it's a little rushed. *shrug* You're the ones who have to judge.

The Europenor Party

England always has a hard time deciding which member of the Bad Touch Trio he despises the most.

There's Prussia, who's loud and obnoxious and has an ego that matches America's; not to mention, he had the nerve to date his sweet, little Canada! He hasn't done anything about it because Matt claims to be happy with him (which he can't understand), but he patiently waits for the moment Gilbert messes it up. It'll be the perfect excuse to break his face.

Then there's Spain, who's unnervingly happy and has the bad habit of trying to get Gibraltar back at all times. He has learnt to shut him up by bringing up the Invincible Armada or Trafalgar, and is glad Antonio rarely replies by bringing up Blas de Lezo. Deep down, what he's most glad for is that Antonio's temper needs more than that to be triggered.

And then there's France, who's… Well, France. A magnificent asshole, that's what he is. He doesn't say this to him because the one time he did, Francis replied that, if he really hates him that much, why does he keep sleeping with him on a regular basis?; and that's a question he never wants to face again. He's not sure he has an answer.

To sum up: he can't stand Prussia, doesn't get along with Spain, and has a complicated relationship with France.

So why the heck are they throwing a party for him?

It's been France's idea, and since neither Spain nor Prussia have done a single thing to stop him, all three of them are to be blamed. Shocking.

It's not a secret that they love partying. Spain always proudly proclaims himself "Europe's Party Capital", and nobody can really deny it — not when all of them have gotten extremely drunk at least once in Ibiza.

It's not a secret that they aren't precisely modest or quiet. Prussia is particularly loud, and he always makes sure to let everyone know just how awesome they are.

It's not a secret that they're natural jokers. France, although not officially, is the brain behind most of their pranks, which is why, even though there are many nations that have suffered them, no one comes close to the hell they put England through.

None of those things is a secret, which is why nobody is too surprised when, after a meeting, the self-named Bad Touch Trio stands up and invites them all to England's Europenor party.

Everyone agrees, because they've heard the word 'party' and: a) they're sick of everything and need to unwind; and b) a party organized by those three can only be labelled as, to quote a certain albino, awesome. Still, there's a question in everyone's head, and it's England himself who puts it into words:

"What the bloody hell is a 'Europenor party'?"

"Oh, you know," France smiles, charming. "It's like a bachelor party…"

"… only that instead of saying goodbye to being single…" Spain continues, grinning widely.

"… you say goodbye to being in the European Union," Prussia finishes, smirking.

The party is supposed to be exclusively for members of the EU, but many other European nations have managed to sneak in, so in the end practically the entire continent is in there. Also, despite France and Spain telling him not to, Prussia has sneaked in Canada, too, his argument being that nobody is going to notice him anyway. That's why there's much more people than expected, and England is pissed off (and slightly anxious) when he finally arrives.

"Too many fucking people," he grunts. "And I bet only half of them like me."

"That's not true, little brother," Scotland says, patting his back. Then he looks at him maliciously and adds: "No one in this room likes you."

England glares at him. For a moment, he's been foolish enough to believe that his brother was actually supporting him, which is stupid because usually they don't get along, and nowadays even less. He doubts he'll ever forget all that Scotland yelled at him after the result of the referendum.

"I don't know what I'm doing here, then," he mumbles.

Just then, he hears two childish voices calling his name; and the next moment there are two pairs of slim arms around his waist. Surprised, he looks down to meet two gazes, one blue and the other green, accompanied by bright smiles.

"What the—?!" he yells, catching himself before saying the 'f' word. He takes a deep breath and starts again, calmer. "What are you two doing here?"

"Spain said I could come," Gibraltar answers, and England takes a quick mental note to have a chat with the Spaniard about getting too close to his kid. "He thought I may be bored, though," Gibraltar goes on, "so he invited Sealand so I have someone to play with."

"I was going to come anyway, because Sweden and Finland have come too," Sealand adds.

"I see."

It takes him three minutes to find Spain, and the other clearly senses he's not coming in peace, for he barricades behind France and Prussia and shoots him an apologetic smile. England frowns and tries to reach him, but he keeps avoiding him, his friends not moving an inch and remaining between them. To make things worse, France suddenly grabs him, smoothly sliding one arm around his shoulders, and tries to kiss him once, and again, and again. Too busy turning his head so that France's kisses land on his cheek and not on his lips, England gives up on catching Spain and giving him a well-earned slap. Instead, he glares at him and hisses:

"Why are Gibraltar and Sealand here?"

"Because they deserve to have some fun," Spain shrugs. "You're going to drag my poor kid out of the EU—"

"Whoa, whoa, slow down," England interrupts him. "Did I hear you say 'my kid' while talking about Gibraltar?"

"Yes, you did."

"Well, last time I checked, he's still British territory!"

"For now. Last time I checked, he massively voted against Brexit," Spain retorts, smug.

England's glare intensifies, and his voice gets lower and more menacing. "I'd die before letting you have him again."

Spain narrows his eyes, returning the glare. "Funny. I'd gladly kill you to have him back."

They stay like that for a while, completely still, their gazes never leaving each other. They look like two lions ready to pounce and slit the other's throat. Thankfully, before anyone decides to attack, Prussia and Canada walk in the middle, making them break eye contact, just as Romano drags Spain away and France does the same with England.

Killing each other over a rock will have to wait.

"Arthur, chéri, I really can't understand why you must always fight with Toni over Gibraltar," France says as he drags England away from Spain. "I won't deny that Alex is a sweet kid, but don't you think you're taking it a bit too far?"

"It's him the one who won't accept Gibraltar's no longer his," he grunts.

France rolls his eyes and decides to stop talking before he becomes the target of England's bad mood. Not letting him go, because he wants to make sure he's not going to go back to fight Spain (and, why lie, because he loves being so close to him), he makes his way to the far end of the big room where the party's taking place. That's where the drinks are displayed. The Frenchman pours himself a glass of wine, and doesn't need to ask what his companion wants and immediately serves him an ale.

England thanks him, albeit quietly, and downs it all at once.

"Take it easy," France laughs. "Or you won't be able to stand on your feet for the whole night."

"Who says I want to?"

"Well, it's your Europenor party!"

"It's a stupid party, that's what it is," England replies, ignoring the offended gasp his words provoke. "I'd like it better if it were an actual bachelor party. At least there'd be a stripper."

"Ah, chéri," France chuckles, mischievous, "don't give me ideas."

For his own sanity, England decides to ignore those words and the very suggestive picture his mind has come up with after hearing them. He keeps drinking in silence until France leans close to him and whispers in his ear:

"Do you want to have some fun?"

His first reaction is to slap him away. France laughs, rubbing his reddening cheek, and shakes his head.

"I'm not talking about that, you idiot!" Without giving him a moment to do or say anything, he grabs his hand and drags him away. "Come with me. It'll be fun, you'll see."

England follows him, since he doesn't really have another choice. Besides, now he's curious to see what France has up his sleeve. For once, as far as he knows, he's not on the receiving end of his pranks.

They sneak out of the main room and go upstairs, to a much smaller room, from where they can see the dance floor. A soft smile grows on England's face as he looks down to all the other nations. He easily spots Prussia, whose white hair stands out against the dark floor; he's in a corner, calmly chatting with Canada. (England never though he'd actually use the word 'calm' to describe Prussia. It seems the albino behaves very different with him than with Canada.) He needs to look carefully to find Gibraltar and Sealand: they're next to the food, talking and laughing, and holding a couple of glasses that England hopes are filled with nothing more than soda. There are a few couples dancing: there's Austria and Hungary, Sweden and Finland, Italy and Germany, even Denmark and Norway. However, all of them are clearly outshined by Spain and Romano. Those two own the dance floor: they twirl and turn and jump and clap their hands and move their hips in a tantalizing way. It's a sight that makes England wish he had the ability to dance without having to get drunk beforehand.

"Like the sight?" France asks behind him.

England flinches —he had forgotten he wasn't alone— before shrugging, nonchalant. "Not bad," he answers. "But you promised something fun."

"Indeed."

He makes him turn and that's when England sees they're in the control room. They can change the lights and music at their will. He blinks a few times before smirking. France was right: this is going to be so much fun.

Their first target are Sweden and Finland, who dance together, slowly. Aren't they adorable? England thinks just as, when the music is at its calmest moment, France presses a button and ABBA's Dancing Queen starts playing.

The effect is immediate: Sweden raises his head, resembling a dog that's heard its master's voice, his eyes widen, and a small, almost imperceptible smile appears on his always severe face.

And then he drags Finland to the middle of the dance floor —pushing Spain and Romano out of the way—, where he starts to dance to the song —his song— and makes everyone have a flashback of the 70's.

The music changes abruptly once again, and England and France begin to laugh hysterically when a very excited Spain pushes away a confused Sweden and starts to dance to Macarena. They assume Romano is a bit more than tipsy when they see him dance next to the Spaniard, which surprises everyone. England's not as amused when Gibraltar joins them; France notices this and is quick to change the song again.

They keep doing it for a while, randomly changing the music and laughing at the clear confusion on everyone's faces. England briefly thinks that he now understands why the BTT is always pranking everyone — this is so much fun! Although the pranks they pull on me aren't always this harmless.

"I think that's enough," France says, pulling him out of his thoughts. He sets the music to random again and walks away from the controls; then he looks at England and smiles. "Did you have fun?"

"Not at all," England replies, and both know he's lying.

"Really?" France asks, deciding to play along. "I could've sworn your eyes are sparkling."

"They're tears of boredom."

"And you're smiling."

"Only because I'm being considerate and I don't want to hurt your feelings. I can stop whenever I want."

"Then stop, please."

Just as he expected, England keeps trying to frown, but the smile always returns to his lips, and it gets bigger each time. He ends up covering his mouth with his hands, making France laugh.

"Did you know you're adorable?"

"Shut up, frog."

France complies and they fall silent. There's not much that needs to be said; not when they can read everything on each other's eyes. Time passes —minutes or hours, they can't tell— until they finally break the eye contact.

England is about to suggest going back down when a new song starts playing. It's a ballad, slow and calm. It invites lovers to get close and dance together. Indeed, he can see the dance floor has been invaded by couples; the ones that were before and some new, like Prussia and Canada or Italy and Germany. France coughs to get his attention and, when he turns, he sees he's reaching for him in a clear invitation for a dance. Embarrassed (and not even knowing why), England shakes his head and looks away.

"No one's watching," France says softly, understanding.

England looks at him again and hesitates for a moment before taking his hand. For a moment, it looks like the Frenchman's eyes are brighter. It makes his heart skip a beat. Deep down he must admit that, when he's not being a dick, France can be breathtakingly beautiful.

They begin to move at the slow rhythm of the song. England misses his pace a couple of times and steps on France more than once; it makes his partner chuckle lightly.

"Stop laughing at me," he mumbles.

"I'm not laughing at you, chéri. I'm just laughing because I'm happy."

"And because I can't dance."

"Maybe…"

"The fault is yours. You're awful at leading."

"Must be that, yes." He rolls his eyes and blows on England's face, earning an annoyed look. "It's never your fault." Without giving him a chance to reply, he twists him under his arm to later press their bodies together, fully knowing that the other's too surprised by the previous action to react. "You hate not being in control, don't you?" he whispers directly to his ear.

To his surprise, England's response is pressing even closer to him, resting his head on his shoulder and hugging him tighter with the arm on his shoulders. France considers himself fortunate: he doubts England allows many people to see him this open and vulnerable.

They dance in silence to the rest of the song, barely aware of anything that isn't each other's presence. When it ends, France leans to kiss him, and there's nothing England can (nor wants to) do besides kissing back.

It's over a bit too soon to France's liking, but he doesn't complain or let it show in any way. He just smiles fondly at England and presses one light kiss to his fingers before he pulls completely away.

"We should go back down," England mutters. "They may miss us."

None of them really believes that. Despite this, France nods and guides them back to the main room, where they go their separate ways.

"There you are, Francis!" Spain exclaims happily. "Where were you?"

"Looking around. Are you aware that there's an Italian on your neck?"

Spain laughs and pats Romano's head, who has indeed hooked his arms around Spain's neck and doesn't seem to want to let go. "Yes, yes, I'm aware," he chuckles. "I think Lovi has had way too much to drink." He has an arm around the Italian's waist, which is what's actually supporting him. He tightens his grip and gives France a mischievous smile. "Not that I'm complaining."

Romano groans something that France can't understand —but that he's pretty sure was 'bastard'— and straightens so he's eye-to-eye with Spain; without any warning, he smacks their lips together and kisses him without any hint of shame. Spain, because he's Spain, doesn't waste a second and immediately kisses back.

Such a subtle way of telling me to fuck off, France thinks as he retreats.

He spots Prussia and Canada and goes talk to them. They're both tipsy, and are chatting and laughing together. France can't help but think that they're a great couple. (So what if he tried to kill Prussia when he found out he was dating his little boy. So what.) They greet him happily when he reaches them; Prussia pats his back with more strength than necessary and makes him lose his balance.

"I was just telling Matt about that one time Toni, you and I broke into England's house and left a fake horse head in his bed."

"Oh, that was hilarious!" France laughs. "I'll never forget how much he screamed."

"Why did you do that, though?" Canada asks, even though he's laughing too.

"Because, mon petit," France answers dramatically, "pranking Arthur is one of the funniest things this world has to offer."

"Gil said he electrified his fence after that incident."

"Yes. Has he also told you how he found out he had done that?" France smirks, loving the way Prussia shudders at the memory.

Canada bursts out laughing and Prussia hangs his head in defeat. Knowing he'd better leave his friend to fix his shattered pride, France leaves the couple discretely.

Once again, he's alone in the middle of a lot of people.

There are many groups of nations who talk and laugh and dance, but he doesn't feel like randomly incorporating to one of those. He looks around, maybe hoping to see that Romano has stopped making love to Spain's mouth —to his utter disappointment, not only he hasn't, but he also seems to be taking things to the next level—, or simply hoping to see someone as lonely as he is.

Luck doesn't seem to be on his side. He sighs and makes his way to the bathroom. He needs to splash his face. However, all thoughts leave his mind the moment he walks into the restroom and meets England, leaning against the wall, completely alone.

"Hi," he says, surprised. "What are you doing here?"

England shrugs. "I needed a moment by myself."

"I can leave, if you want."

"No," he almost pleads, quickly. "Don't go."

Everything stops for a moment, and the next thing they're aware of is the taste of each other's lips. France doesn't know how he's gotten to England's side so fast; maybe the other has moved towards him, too. He doesn't know, nor does he care. All that matters right now is that he's kissing England and England is kissing him back and it's passionate and desperate and what's gotten into them? They don't usually lose control this easily, much less when there's a high chance of being caught.

It ends as abruptly as it's started. England pulls away, although remains close to France; actually, he hugs him tightly. All France can do is return the hug.

"Thank you," the Brit whispers in his ear.

"De rien," France says, not sure what he's being thanked for.

"I don't know why I'm like this today," England mutters. "I think it's the stupid party."

"Yes, blame it on the party," he replies, dramatically. To his surprise, the other chuckles softly. It tickles his neck. "It's been a tough time for everyone lately," he sighs, caressing England's golden locks. "You know you're not alone, right?"

"I know," he mumbles into his neck, so low that France thinks he must have imagined it. Then, England raises his head to meet his eye and smirks. "Still, everything is the party's fault." He pecks France's lips before breaking the hug and leaving.

Once again, France is alone. He leans against the wall and thinks over and over about England's words and actions.

And then he makes a decision.

It's late. The party is still going, although it's not as lively as it was before. The music's volume has been turned down to the point where it's barely audible, allowing the nations to come together and chat about everything and anything. One of the most commented topics is that Spain's shirt isn't buttoned properly, and that Romano's shirt is inside-out, and that none of them has realized.

England isn't talking to anyone. He has spent some time with Canada, but the younger seems to be having a great time with Prussia, so it wasn't too long. After all, he doesn't want to go around spreading his misery. (That may sound a bit too dramatic, but that's how he feels at the moment.)

A sudden move catches his eye. He turns in time to see someone standing on the table, and he recognizes France. What is he doing? The Frenchman holds a cup, which he hits with a fork to gather everyone's attention; once he has it, he motions for them to come closer to the table. England raises an eyebrow, but, curious, complies.

"How's the party so far?" France asks cheerfully. "Are you having fun?"

Everyone yells a confident "Yes!" as an answer, and France raises his thumb in approval.

"Good, good. However," he takes a sip from his cup, "let me remind you that this party is England's— Arthur, chéri, where are you—" He turns until he spots him and points at him. "There you are! As I was saying, this party's his, and he told me it's stupid!" he practically whines, prompting for everyone to let out a long and over-dramatized 'oooooh'. "He said— Do you know what he said? He said he wishes it were an actual bachelor party, because at least there'd be a stripper!"

England blushes. Yes, he's said that, but why does the frog have to go and say it for everyone to hear? They're all laughing now, and he swears he's going to strangle France with his own hands. However, the other keeps talking and catches his entire attention once again.

"And, you know, because I'm such a devoted lover," he winks at him, "and I want him to be happy," he throws a kiss at him —England pretends to dodge it—, "I've decided to make his wish come true."

England's eyebrows shoot up as everyone begins to cheer. He can't believe what France has just said. Make my wish come true—? He doesn't know what's going to happen —being France, he can expect anything from him— and he doesn't like that.

"Whoa, easy, easy," France laughs, trying to get everyone to shut up. "I know what you're thinking and no, I haven't hired a stripper."

He shrugs apologetically when everyone boos, and laughs when someone from the crowd yells: "Do it yourself!" The petition seems to be liked, as suddenly everyone is yelling at him, demanding for him to strip. (Nobody misses that the two that cheer the most are Spain and Prussia. Canada has blushed madly; Romano is not amused.)

"We'll see," France laughs as he walks on the table until he's right in front of England. "Say, Arthur, do you want a striptease?"

"No," is England's cutting and firm response.

"Good. You weren't going to get one anyway."

"Didn't you say you were going to make my wish come true?" he asks, more because he feels like arguing than because he wants France to strip for him (not in front of other people, at least).

"Yes, indeed, that's what I said," France admits. "But I wasn't talking about that part of your wish."

"What do you mean?" England frowns, confused.

"I'm going to turn this party into an actual bachelor party."

"And how do you plan to—?"

He never gets to finish his question, for France graciously steps down the table right in front of him and goes down on one knee and pulls out a ring and holy fucking shit is he for real?

"Arthur, ma chéri, mon petit lapin— will you marry me?"

England's jaw drops. To be fair, so does everyone else's. Everything freezes, everything but time, and England is painfully aware of the seconds ticking by. France is waiting for an answer, everyone's waiting, but he finds himself unable to utter a single word.

"Y-You're kidding," he finally manages to stutter.

Anyone else might have been offended by that reply, but not France. No, he has known England for a long time already. His smile grows wider as he shakes his head. "I'm not," he assures.

England is on the verge of suffering a heart attack. His palms are sweaty, his breath is shaky, his entire world is spinning. But then he looks into France's eyes —those beautiful, deep, blue eyes— and he sees that yes, despite the comedic tone previous to his proposal, he's dead serious about it. And he knows there's only one possible answer.

Dying of embarrassment and well aware of the dark blush that tints his cheeks, he drops his head on his hands, hiding his face from everyone. He needs to take a couple of deep breaths before he's able to speak. "Holymotherfuckingshitbloodyhell—" he curses out loud, so fast that the words can barely be told apart. Then he lowers his hands just enough so he can look at France, and the word simply escapes him:

"Yes."

England is certain he hasn't been more embarrassed in his entire life. Only France could propose in front of the entire continent as if it were the most natural thing to do. And it probably is, to him — he's the country of love, after all. Still, even he has to admit it's been a rather romantic move.

That doesn't help with his embarrassment.

He's been forced to sit with France in a small couch (so small he's almost sat on his now fiancé's lap) and everyone's in a line, waiting to congratulate them and give them their blessing. The first one, not to anyone's surprise, has been Canada, who has stated how happy he is for them and has read a few text messages from an overly excited America. (He may or may not have recorded the proposal and sent it to his brother.)

The seconds in line are Spain and Prussia, who first tell France that he can do better; and then surprise everyone by actually congratulating the couple and hugging them both. When nobody's watching, Gibraltar takes a picture of Spain and England hugging. He's certain it's a situation that doesn't happen very often.

Then come more, and more, and more countries. Italy promises he and Romano (even though his brother has never agreed to it) will cook at the wedding; Germany shakes their hands and wishes them happiness; Hungary is crying so hard they don't understand a single word she says to them.

The last one to stand before them is Scotland. For a moment, England is scared. Who knows what is brother might do. But then Scotland pats France's shoulder, says in a slightly shaky voice: "Take care of him for me, will you?", and then pulls his little brother into a tight hug. He whispers something in his ear and England nods against his shoulder; then he pulls apart, ruffles his hair and leaves.

Exhausted, England makes himself comfortable in the couch (which means, he sits on France's lap) and rests his head on the Frenchman's shoulder. He smiles, content, when he feels two arms wrapping around him and warm lips pressing against his hair.

"Arthur," France calls him softly.

"Hmm—?"

"What did Alistair say to you?"

England pulls apart a little, just enough so he can look him in the eye, and there's something —the shape of his smirk, the glint in his eyes, the tone of his voice— that leaves France wondering if what he says is true or not:

"If he ever hurts you, tell me and I'll personally break his legs."

FIN

#fanfic #fanfiction #hetalia #fruk #spamano #prucan #fruk fanfic #fruk fanfiction #i'm so proud of this one #my fanfics

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