#but have some fucking TACT and stop being RUDE

[tame-a-messenger]

Good news everyone, Damangela doesn't deserve the hype because Smoshtwt has decreed Damien doesn't like being around people, apparently.

Jesus fucking Christ on a bicycle wheel.

The biciclye wheel continues to turn..

Twitter goes through phases of liking Damien and not liking him. The biggest thing is that they don't seem to understand his reaction to things, i.e. he's Autistic and neurotypicals don't really gel with that for some reason.

(I truly don't get what Damien has ever done wrong besides react differently than other people. It seems he fails their 'vibe check'?)

[rweoutofthewoods]

I need need NEED people on TikTok to stop. I saw a TikTok where someone was like omg I want to befriend and track down x big author and x big author. WHERE IS THE TACT?? I CANT be the only one who thinks this is so odd.

If you actually wanted to be friends with someone you could go talk to them, you could be nice and normal instead of posting about wanting to befriend them for thousands of people to see. I’m sorry I’d never want to be friends with somebody who publicly announced an agenda just because the author is popular. Fic authors no matter how popular are literally just people and y’all are making it weird.

Like if you like someone’s work that’s great, and if u see a quality in them that you think you’d get along with AMAZING. Maybe u could actually be friends but when you just want it because they’re popular that’s so uncomfortable? It feels sleazy.

It irks me so much to see any author put up on a pedestal. Once you do that, and you remove them being seen as the same as everyone else it opens up a can of worms for things to turn bad. Because no one is perfect and someone will probably fuck up at some point and then it creates space to hate on fics or authors or be entitled because you don’t see them as real everyday people.

And I’m going to be so real, it doesn’t matter irl. Like the support and love online is wonderful but do u think anyone I talk to day to day gives a fuck that I have x hits on x number of fics? Or that I have x tumblr followers? NO it only matters in such a small context. That’s the difference between popular fandom people and celebs and influencers, their popularity is not something u can disconnect from them. While fic authors? Hell they could be the server you were rude to, or the person you cut off on the highway.

Come down to earth, treat people like people with respect and love not as their number of hits. Someone knock some sense into mtt I’m BEGGING.

[humongousgothskeletonfarm]

chapter 6 thoughts: (spoilers ahead!)

oh. fuck.

-

he was king. now he’s a martyr.

holy shittttt

-

aftg really brings us all together, this is random but i love talking to other fan accounts about the books

-

anyway fanfics will no longer have to speculate when rikos funeral was, and if kevin attended or not (or if he had a mental breakdown about it)

also neil u have no tact babe and i love u for it

-

oh renee ur so lovely ur so insightful (neil u should listen to what she has to say)

jean and his ‘i won’t grieve him’ ❤️🫶

- ‘promise me’ jean said with a desperation that should have kill him, nathaniel didn’t hesitate, ‘i promise’ SHUT THE FUCK UP I LOVE THEM THANK U NORA THIS IS EVERYTHING I WANTED FROM THIS BOOK

THE SWAP FROM NATHANIEL TO NEIL IS JUST AS POWERFUL FROM JEANS PERSOECTIVE IN TSC AS IT WAS IN FROM NEILS IN TKM I LITERALLY CANNOT THE PARALLELS ARE KILLING ME

-

it’s 1:40 am and i’ve just made a cup of tea to keep myself awake

feeling many things about jeans perusal of the fox photo wall and taking renee’s picture

-

i know these motherfuckers aren’t accusing neil kevin and jean of abandoning that cunt and leading to his ‘suicide’

-

WE ARE THE RIGHT PEOPLE I THINK JUST NOT THE RIGHT TIME (look i am admittedly not a jean/renee shipper but good god they are so sweet in this)

A COOL EVENING BREEZE AND RAINBOWS

-

screaming as silently as i can rn

- petition for someone to put summertime sadness on the jean playlist

-

whattttt is the mystery about jeremy’s family?? what is this fabled fall banquet that tore his family in half im so intrigued i have to know more

ALSO JEREMY IS IN THERAPY AND HAS SOME SORT OF FAMILY ISSUES I KNEW IT IM SURE THATS ON A BINGO SOMEWHERE

-

jeremy dad of the trojans checking to see that they’re safe and also cody first cannon non binary character??? pls say yes

-

accidentally fell asleep in the middle of my planned all nighters whoops it’s currently 7 am

chapter 7:

“I like to indulge,” Jeremy said with a dimpled smile. ​Kevin’s words mocked him in the back of his thoughts: “Some of them you like.”

i did. notice this in chapter 2 or whatever but is this?? are we getting jerejean???? that’s what this means righ??

-

jeremy wdym ‘oh to be the pampered elite’ u have a butler??

jean defending kevin saying he’s earned the right to be arrogant be still my beating heart i love these stubborn mother fuckers

-

He was years away, watching a different beautiful boy lean in close to say, Will you teach me when he’s not watching? It could be our secret.

STOP IT RN

chapter 8!!

flicked him a sly look. “Easy on the eyes, maybe.”

AHHHHH!!!

-

also so glad that there’s 100% confirmation cat and laila are dating (shared bedroom!)

-

the description of laila and cats lounge room is so soft and cozy im so jealous i wish i was there

-

barkbark von barkenstein u will never top sir fat cat mcatterson (although props to nora for always having simultaneously the worst and most creative names for pets)

-

jean telling cat she’s a good player but misses every ball at her hips is literally every raven! (someone) fic ever come to life where they meet a relatively normal other team and have absolutely no tact or awareness of what others considered rude and immediately tell the other players what their weaknesses are (i’m obsessed)

-

“Yes,” he said, and if he didn’t sound sure, he at least sounded angry. “Let them all burn. I hope none of them survive.” BABY I LOVE U IM SO PROUD OF U UR SAFE NOW FUCK RIKO FUCK THE RAVENS FUCK THE MASTER

-

“Oh, he’s good. A bit rude, but I like him. I think we’re going to be good friends.”

i’d say the exact same thing

-

*jeremy giving jean the keys*

well it’s not andreil levels of drama and symbolism but love a good comparison

-

or they do not care enough about her wellbeing. It’s unforgivable either way.”

giggling a bit over jean being up in arms about boba knowing that he’d be seriously unimpressed with me if he knew how much boba i drank

-

he wants to know what it was for

AND WHAT IF THAT LINE BROKE ME NORA?? AND WHAT THEN??

The Ravens had given up everything to be the undefeated champions, only to be destroyed last month by a tiny team from South Carolina.

I CANT DO THIS ANYMORE

“Loving something is not enough,” Jean told him, right on cue. ​“When is the last time you enjoyed playing?” Jeremy asked. ​“Irrelevant,” Jean said. “I am Jean Moreau; I am perfect Court. I do not need to enjoy it to be the best backliner in the NCAA.”

that was what Jean felt safest in, Jeremy would back his decision wholeheartedly.

LITERALLY LEAVE ME ALONE

chapter 9999

also i’m so glad that we have jeremy/laila/cat friendship like in fics and stuff they were always best buddies coz they were the only trojan characters named in the books but it’s great to see they’re actually good friends in cannon

-

“I need you to listen to me for one moment,” Laila said, “and I need you to believe me when I say it. Fuck Coach Moriyama.”

AGREED AGREED AGREED FUCK THAT CUNT

-

COOKING LESSONS WITH JEAN THIS IS THE WHOLESOME CONTENT I SIGNED UP FOR

-

cat talking macronutrients and promising to help with his diet so it’s still familiar but more fun in order to begin healing jeans relationship with food is so important to me

-

nora bleaching jeremy’s hair blonde after telling us she was shocked we all headcannoned him as blonde while she thought he was brunette is so funny to me,, don’t worry fan artists u do not have to change a thing!

(frosted tips made me giggle too, jeremy u pussy)

-

“Voulez-vous coucher avec moi?”

-

chapter 10

jean learning basic household chores like sorting and washing clothes and deep cleaning the apartment and learning his way around a supermarket <3

-

LAILA CAT JEAN FRIENDSHIP IS REAL

Afternoons were filled with whatever the women were in the mood for that day, be it wandering downtown, shopping, or combing through estate sales.

Jean went where they took him because it was better than being left in the house alone,

-

COOKING IS HEALING JEAN ITS A COMFORT THING SHUT THE FUCK UP THIS IS EVERYTHUNG HES SO REAL FOR THAT

-

Ravens graduated; they didn’t leave.

fuck if that didn’t just stop my heart

-

i definitely should have been more wary of the trigger warnings. if anyone is wanting to read the book but is worried about certain parts, i’d be happy to let y’all know what sections are triggering so u can try and skip around them.

-

But Jean was not a Raven, and Wayne was dead.

FUCK YEAH BABY NOT ANYMORE U ARENT

-

the thought of that quiet space with its single bed was so repulsive he turned toward the living room instead. - this is so important to me

He could sense the others’ presence even if they weren’t around to bother him, and that was enough to take the edge off the loneliness eating at his heart.

literally end my life i’m so happy for jean, he’s healing slowly but surely

-

this was better than anything he’d ever had. It was worlds more than he deserved. He feared it as much as he wanted it;

JEAN U DO DESERVE IT I PROMISE U

-

wait wtf,, zane is reacher??? in literally every raven fic ever reacher is the most abusive character other than riko

-

OMFG BEACH SCENE??? THEYRE GONNA TAKE JEAN TO THE BEACH??? CHECK THAT OFF EVERY SINGLE BINGO CARD MADE FOR THIS BOOK

^ yeah i wrote that two seconds before then reading jeans panic attack about drowning and the trigger of riko waterboarding him and neil and now i want to cry

[koishua]

"you shouldn't undermine other people's experiences because others have it worse" fuck yeah i am. you are telling me that izzy girlies barring up their windows because they're scared of the sirens going off with their stanleys and ipads and extra food on their nice and clean and fluffy bedsheets in their soft pajamas deserve the same treatment as the girls being raped and blown up and shot down and displaced just a few miles over?? shut the actual fuck up. literally seeing them makes my blood boil. it's sad that there aren't any gluten free bread options in the supermarket you're at?? boo-fucking-hoo. have some tact and shut up. palestinian youth, palestinian children, palestinian men and women are dying and you talk about the rumors of lady gaga's pregnancy and your name is taylor and you're defending her in her comments saying it's rude to talk about a woman's body and health like be so fr. be actually so so fr now why the fuck do people care. about random celebrities' girlfriends and boyfriends and smoking and partying and being so out of touch with how the rest of the world is sending out giant signals for help and yet still not getting any after YEARS upon YEARS. if someone told me that i should stop acting like a victim and get out of my sobfest over my life, i fucking will without a single word because who the hell am i to think i have a big problem when millions are in a much worse condition than i am.

[fandom-hoarder]

Considering OP is yelling at ppl to leave them alone when questioned on specifics because a post that says “the grooming in spn fandom is insane” (specifically Wincest) was “not a callout” and only “a legitimate safety concern” about “a space is known for well you know”, they are not worth the time. They also reacted very rudely to an anon who only wanted to apologize for following them (thinking that OP was anti Wincest and trying to respect OP’s boundaries). Just not worth it.

[I held onto this in my drafts for a day, but I think I'm just gonna publish it after all. Even though v did a much better job of addressing the op directly, imo, I'm not interacting with the op. I'm also going to gather screenshots in a posterity post, but it will likely be unrebloggable.]

Hmm, I debated publishing this ask, because I'm really just. So tired. And annoyed. And it's not a great combination for tact. Nevertheless...

I haven't seen the yelling myself, just avoidance and redirection. Flippancy. But maybe it's happening in a space I can't see, or between people I've blocked, idk. If so, it sounds a lot like it IS January 2023 redux 🙃🙃🙃 -- I HAVE seen it now, and my suspicion still stands, though still not 100%.

People need to stop making such serious accusations when they refuse to back it up. Words fucking mean things. Saying a certain sector of the fandom--that ostensibly you're also a part of?--has a problem with grooming and is stupid...that was NOT worded in a way to help people stay safe. It was worded like a vague callout post to scare people. We've seen those before. 🙄

A post that was actually concerned about grooming in online spaces *in general* would list some things to be aware of, things to recognize, tips for getting out of a situation. But no, it's this vaguepost without anything specific, with the one question in the notes asking for an explanation or if it's sarcasm-- unanswered [eta: well maybe they responded and I can't see it, since I realized I had op blocked]-- and one reblog from a person who claims it wasn't about wincesties specifically, when it demonstrably WAS??

So who is doing it, and where/how? I don't necessarily think it's a good idea to make public posts with names that devolve into personal beef and worse, but if someone is making the accusation that there's a grooming problem in the fandom they need to come with receipts or at the very least descriptions of the situation??

This isn't cutesy. You know exactly what anon is talking about, as shown later. Reblogging the post unaltered gives at least the appearance of agreeing with it as written.

This isn't to make light of! You reblogged it.

This isn't helpful.

If there was no one specific, why reblog a post specifically about the wincest fandom having insaneeee grooming? It wasn't "just in general." It's not a joke, yet this reply looks entirely unserious.

I am too old to keep seeing this type of shit go through the fandom at regular intervals, especially when it's so often a false accusation based on interpersonal drama. The only purpose this serves is riling up the dash. It's exhausting, and waters down the gravity of the accusation by making it a phrase that cries wolf.

I'm not even saying outright that the post is a LIE; just that it has seriously similar markers of past drama that was approximately 90% unaddressed purity culture biases about fiction, 9% interpersonal beef, and 1% actual concern for a human being who was an adult, but young. And it led to the utter gutting of fandom, loss of acquaintances, deletion of a glut of fic-- all due to smearing the reputation of a writer by using horrible UNTRUE AND INCENDIARY ACCUSATIONS.

So I'm sure many of you already understand why I take umbrage with these types of posts! Who knows if it's about fiction or something real? 🤷‍♀️

And since there's no further context to be found, the way it LOOKS on the dash is that someone is taking creeper!Dean too seriously. It could be about something else, but who knows.

[a-lilypad]

i genuinely cannot stand some of the people in my uni modules rn to the point where i’m now skipping lectures so i don’t have to be around them because i’m too socially anxious to stop sitting with them

i talked to them for the first few days before realising they’re the most patronising and rude people i’ve ever met in my life and now it’s been like a month and i cant escape because if i sit away from them they’ll ask me why and i cant exactly say “being around you makes me want to tear off my skin” because unlike them i’m not awful and for some reason would rather suffer than upset them (despite the fact that they seem to have made it their personal goal to make me feel like shit)

they’re SO RUDE and judgmental you are fully grown adults not 15 year olds pls act like it i’m just trying to make it through the most boring course known to fucking man with all my lives in tact

[vacantgodling]

🩹, 🔶, 🤍, and 🤔 for Lath, Noi, and Lavendula (aka my blorbos <3)

THE BLORBOSSSS 💛💛

🩹 ADHESIVE BANDAGE — does your oc have any physical and/or mental disabilities?

lath — after becoming a guardian and in general the only thing of note about him is how wide open his eyes are and the fact that he rarely blinks. it’s a bit odd and there isn’t really an explanation for it lmao. his eyes don’t even hurt or anything he’s just always 👁️👁️

noi — being a vessel means essentially having a entity forcibly share host with your body that can take over whenever they aren’t wearing the disability device (eye patch) so, i’d Kind Of count that as a physical disability since they lose control of their limbs and have been injured bc of it 😥. they have severe ptsd surrounding the incident as well (it’s not pretty) and have night terrors about it :(

lavendula — doesn’t really have any physical or mental disabilities (in the way we think about them).

🔶 LARGE ORANGE DIAMOND — does your oc know cpr? do they have any other medical expertise?

lath — he has a lot of field medical knowledge from being in the militia and a trained soldier and scout for most of his time alive. he also enjoys learning so he tends to accompany the deity of healing and medicine YUTARA on their many errands so he’s picked up some stuff as well. so he does know cpr yes as well as how to stop bleeding, sewing and disinfecting wounds, how to cauterize a wound etc etc.

noi — knows basic first aid but not anything beyond what would be in the instructions of a first aid kit. they learn more on their journey tho!

lavendula — no medical expertise unfortunately. it wasn’t deemed as something important that she as a noblewoman should know :/

🤍 WHITE HEART — what are three of your oc's neutral/questionable traits?

lath — is extremely blunt to the point of being kind of rude LMAO, stares a lot (as mentioned before), fight first questions later type of guy (his oath to MUINENS does make him hesitate a bit but only just. he really doesn’t like being told what to do for better or worse)

noi — lowkey unsympathetic and very awkward when dealing with people’s emotions, gets laser focused and difficult to deter when they’re trying to figure something out for better or worse, stubborn generally speaking

lavendula — the bystander affect is so real with her, tends to be shallow outwardly for her myriad of reasons, can be unintentionally condescending

🤔 THINKING FACE — what are some of your oc's quirks/mannerisms?

lath — 👁️👁️, his face is pretty 😐 or flat unless unless he’s with someone he’s close to (ensio, YUTARA, YLENE, etc), he never fucking sits correctly on ANYTHING. he’s usually crouched or perched on something like a bird. like all guardians have wings yes but he is the most bird of prey-like because tbh he was like that even before he became a guardian. Will climb Anything. he loves being in tall places. he usually stands with his arms crossed but nowadays if ensio isn’t in human form beside him, he keeps a hand on his sword hilt.

noi — pencil or pen always tucked behind their ear. they’re a very restless person they don’t like to sit still especially when they’re thinking so they tend to pace quite a bit. they have a small gap between their teeth that they flick their tongue through when they’re deep in thought. hardly ever smiles but it’s bc i like making all my characters have lowkey flat affect 🤪 however it’s mostly just bc noi’s very serious. they can take a joke with certain people but they take things V Seriously. very much a never let them know ur thoughts they just make a plan and start executing type lol

lavendula — has perfect posture (can balance 4 books on her head comfortably and walk/do tasks) and never slouches, always keeps her hands folded but tends to fiddle with her nails when she’s flustered or nervous. she’s become a master of hiding her “imperfect movements” and keeping her perfect smile and persona in tact so she doesn’t have many outward mannerisms. but she looks Too perfect almost lol. she always laughs behind her hand and never does any gesture loudly.

[angrenwen]

"

I could have been more tactful with the old dear, I suppose, but I didn’t have it in me just then. “Lady,” I said, folding my arms and glaring at her, “I am very tired, and very hungry, and being tired and hungry makes me very cranky, so I’d really appreciate it if you could get to the fucking point. You’re a ghost. This is one of those haunted hotels that lure in travellers to sacrifice them to demons or beg them to break curses or whatever. Fine. That’s on me. Shouldn’t have been suckered in. But enough with the veiled warnings. Just tell me what you want.”

The old woman hissed softly, like a startled cat, but she didn’t vanish on me. That was good. The really timid spirits did, and it was annoying as shit. Then she shook herself and cocked her head. “I see,” she said, her voice stronger but less human-sounding. Ghost voices don’t have the body of a human voice, unless they really work at it. “You’re not… ordinary.”

“That’s an understatement.” I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Okay. You’re here. You’re trying to warn people off, so you’re not a willing participant in whatever’s going on here. I don’t mind releasing you, because I personally find the binding of unconsenting spirits to be a disgusting abomination, but if you don’t get to the point I’m going to get even testier than I am now.”

“We’re bound here.” The night-auditor was in the doorway, three or four shadowy figures behind her. I heard a faint murmur that suggested there were more further back where I couldn't see. “He traps us, and kills us, and then we’re still trapped.”

“Okay, there’s a he. Necromancer?”

“Not exactly,” the old woman said grimly. “It’s the fear that sustains him, the fear and the suffering. Do you know how long it takes someone to starve to death?”

“About a month, usually.”

“He can usually drag it out to at least two, by allowing a little food now and then. An illusion of hope.” The old woman looked bitter. “I was the first. This was my house. He came, one night, and I opened my door to a lost traveller. I’ve had many long years to regret that.”

I allowed myself a small growl. That wasn’t just evil, it was rude. “Well, he made a mistake this time, just like you did.” I paused. “He’s not a demon or something is he? Because that takes special equipment, and I’m not sure I have enough wormwood in the car.”

“No, he’s no demon. Only a mortal magician who draws power from the suffering of others.” This was a spirit who hadn’t spoken before, a man with the pouchy, drooping look of a stout man who’d lost a lot of weight before he died. He looked shrewd, though, and the look he gave me was assessing. “He’s living.”

“Oh, good. In that case, lead me to him.” I felt in my pockets for the charm I’d picked up six small towns ago. I tend to tap out protective charms fairly quickly, but this one still had some life in it. She’d been a gifted witch, that one… and a good kisser, too. I’d try to stop by there again soon.

They led me down to the cellar, and showed me the hidden door. In theory, the door couldn’t be opened from the outside. In practice, most doors open once you put your fist through them and then rip them right off their hinges. That sounds impressive, but behind the disguising layer of dried clay it was one of those flimsy modern doors that’s basically made of laminated paper and plywood a toddler could break through.

I went through the door fast, not wanting to give him time to get a spell ready if he didn’t already have one going. He hadn’t been expecting me to come through the door - I got a look into his scrying mirror over his shoulder, and he was watching my car. Probably getting ready to pixie-lead me back to the hotel when I tried to leave, the normal next step in this game.

I’d taken him completely by surprise. He managed one hex-bolt, which I shrugged off, and then I had hold of him. Like most of the spider-types, who let their webs do their hunting for them, he wasn’t physically strong or fast. I am.

Much more so than any human.

It felt fitting, that a man who starved and tormented his prey should find that he’d caught a bigger predator than he was. I didn’t drop the body until I’d drained it of every accessible drop of blood. We don’t usually do that, despite the stories. We’re still equipped with all the usual human organs, and a human stomach is not designed to hold five liters of fluid in a hurry. Ours do get a bit bigger, over time, taking up some of the space in the abdomen that the atrophied bowel doesn’t need any more, but I still felt as bloated as a tick when I finally dropped him.

“I needed that,” I admitted, licking a trace of blood off my lips and tucking the feeding fangs away behind my teeth. “Thank you.”

The ghosts might have feared a vampire in life, but they all looked delighted now. They clearly appreciated the poetry of the man who had starved them being devoured before their eyes. “At least he left someone with a full belly,” the girl who’d posed as a night auditor said with satisfaction. They were already looking less… real, and less human. Without magical anchoring, ghosts who have been dead for a while can’t usually pass for living any more. There were at least thirty of them, all up. He'd been here for a long time.

“His spells still bind us here,” the formerly-stout man said, tugging on something I couldn’t see with spectral hands. “Can you undo them?”

“Technically, no. Most vampires aren’t magicians.” I grinned at him. “But here’s an interesting fact. Phosphorus fires burn magic. That’s why so many vampire and magician strongholds are burned down.”

He grinned back, a deaths-head grin that would have frightened someone mortal. “And you have phosphorus?”

“Got some in the car. I’ll go get it as soon as the sun goes down and set this place alight.”

We had a nice chat until sundown. The old lady showed me around, and I filled a few boxes with antiques and other valuables or items of sentimental value that she didn’t want torched. I put all the identifiable stuff the wizard had taken from his victims - IDs, rings, engraved watches, that sort of thing - in a separate box, and buried it with enough juice from the corpse that any dog, sniffer trained or otherwise, would go straight to it. The ghosts’ bodies were all buried under the floor of the cellar, they said, so once the fire was out and the investigation started, they’d be found.

Of course not all vampires are alike. We’re as different as any humans are from each other. But most of us feel a certain kinship with our fellow dead, especially the ones who didn’t go by choice. I volunteered to be turned, but I know plenty who didn’t, and I don’t care for that any more than I do for binding spirits. It was a pleasure to be able to help them out, and make sure their families found out what happened to them.

It doesn’t take much phosphorus to set a fire. When I drove away, the house was already ablaze, and the ghosts had vanished.

Or so I thought. Three miles down the road, I looked in my rear view mirror and saw a familiar face. “Haunting the photographs, huh?”

The old lady shrugged. “I can if I want to.”

“I’m not judging. Anywhere you want me to take them?”

She beamed. “Somewhere interesting. A museum or something, where there are a lot of people and interesting things to see.”

So yeah, I’m basically the reason there’s a haunted 200-year-old patchwork quilt hanging in the Texas Quilt Museum. I donated it, along with the picture of my old lady’s grandmother (who made the quilt) and the old lady (who I credited with the donation). Nobody seems to have noticed yet, except a local witch who’s started hanging out there to get knitting advice from the old lady.

You know, vampires get a bad rap, but we really do a lot of good for the community… in our own way.

#

Note: To my knowledge, there isn’t a haunted quilt in the Texas Quilt Museum. But the museum itself exists, which is very neat, and it looks well worth the visit even without a ghost."





The Late Traveller

I should have known, of course.

A little old hotel in the middle of nowhere, with a creaking wooden sign instead of neon? Red flag.

A hollow-eyed, weary-looking young woman at the desk who seemed hesitant to let me get a room? Red flag.

A picturesquely old-fashioned room with a patchwork quilt on the bed that smells a little too musty? HUGE red flag.

Only they’re actually not. Not the first two, anyway. I travel a lot. There are a lot more seems-haunted old-house-turned-traveller’s-rest places than most people think, and in my experience most night auditors are hollow-eyed, faintly eldritch, and disinclined to let someone check in just before dawn.

Of course, the patchwork quilt should have been a dead giveaway. Tired 80s decor and a chenille bedspread? Entirely normal. Patchwork quilt and nineteenth century charm for less than $100 a night? Sus. Very sus. Should have warned me then and there.

In my defense, I was really tired. I’d been driving for two nights and a day, I was exhausted, all my car snacks were gone, and I just wanted to close my eyes and get horizontal. I handed over some cash, stumbled upstairs, made sure the blinds were down, and passed out.

I didn’t wake up until late afternoon, and I felt like shit on a shingle when I did. It took me a couple of attempts to put on my pants and stumble out of the room to look for some sustenance. My expectations weren’t high, but most places at least have coffee-making facilities, and in a pinch a cup of coffee and chugging all the available milk will keep me going for a while. There might even be some of those little packages of cookies, which usually give me an upset stomach but are better than nothing.

There wasn’t a coffee station. What there was was a vending machine with a buzzing, flickering light inside it that made the dusty snacks look even less appealing than they already did.

I was debating whether to risk a can of soda of unknown brand and vintage - sugar and caffeine don’t readily go bad, and I was starving - when I heard a little cough behind me. “Are you a guest, dear?” the old woman said when I turned around to blink at her. She was thin and tottering, faded-looking, and while there weren’t actually cobwebs on her, she looked as if there should be.

“Yes. Is there a kitchen or something where I can get some food from this century?”

Her eyes flicked away. “There’s a diner,” she told me. “Not far down the road. You should try there. I’m afraid the facilities here aren’t what they once were.” She sighed deeply.

Belatedly, my sense for the uncanny started to tingle. “So I should check out and keep moving, huh?”

“Yes, dear. If you can,” she added, and she glanced over her shoulder. “Before sunset.”

Aha.

Keep reading

[therenlover]

One Last Night In Madripoor (An 18+ Helmut Zemo/Reader Oneshot)

Synopsis: Baron Helmut Zemo is a lonely, wanted man looking for some fun, you’re a piss-poor bounty hunter in search of a connection before leaving your life of crime behind, and fate has brought you together at a party the likes of which has never been seen before. You only have one night left in Madripoor, so why not take a chance?

Tags: Smut, SoftDom!Zemo, Hook Up, Semi-Public Sex, Drinking, Safe Sex, Explicit Consent, First Meeting, Wall Sex, Blow Jobs, Cunnilingus

Rating: 18+

Warnings: Swearing, Explicit Sexual Content

Word Count: 4200~

This fic has been crossposted under the same title to my AO3!

---------

Madripoor was a place like nothing you had ever seen.

It wasn’t that the sights were anything special. You could find seedy criminal underbellies lined with neon where the streets ran red with blood anywhere if you looked hard enough. Even the ocean view didn’t do much to set it apart from any other place visually. No, Madripoor’s scenery and architecture weren’t what kept your eyes wide with wonder whenever you found yourself wandering through the winding back-alleys without a purpose. It was the people that kept you around.

Thieves, pirates, and miscreants had been taking shelter at the docks since before anyone there could remember. It was a city borne of the underbelly of society, the people nobody sees, but you saw them. You saw them every day when you stood in the main market waiting for an easy bounty. There were faces everywhere; big and small, tall and short, scarred and flawless. No two people in the streets of Madripoor were ever exactly alike. If you needed to remember someone, their unique face was right there waiting in your mind.

After living on the island for almost 6 months, most people were already cataloged neatly in your mind as friend or foe. This man, though, he was new. He was different.

The night was still young. There was some trouble at the Princess Bar that ended with Selby dead and a few murderers loose in the streets with a price on their heads, but you steered clear. Going after the killers meant going up against hundreds if not thousands of trained bounty hunters and assassins and no amount of money was worth dying over now, not while you were so close to freedom. Instead of chasing your doom, you decided to head to your room, get dressed up, and head out to wherever the music was loudest in search of a place to forget about your problems for the night. The thudding sounds of poorly DJ-ed club remixes led you to Leonardo’s Place. That’s where you found him.

You were two drinks in and sticking close to the wall when he stumbled into your line of sight. What initially caught your eye was his dancing. He couldn’t move for shit. What kept your attention, though, was his face.

There was transience to him, like at any moment someone could bump into him and he would disappear without a trace at their touch. Despite that he was gaudy. Everything about his clothing screamed wealth and fine taste from the thread count of his obnoxious purple turtleneck to the shine on his boots. He was strange, a walking contradiction, and one who had never had the pleasure of gracing your presence or screwing you over in the past. In the simplest of terms, he intrigued you. With nothing left to lose you downed the last of your cocktail and made your way to the gap in the crowd where the stranger had staked his claim. It was game time.

“You come here alone?” You asked. Your voice was barely a whisper above the heavy thrumming of the music.

He gave you a long look up and down before answering as if he were trying to size you up. Something about having his gaze linger on your body made your heartbeat soar. “I’m not looking for company,” His accented tone was gruff but left a sliver of room for reconsideration. You took the chance. What could go wrong?

With as much tact and grace as you could muster you let yourself slip a little closer to him. “What, do I look too expensive for you?” you teased, before backing off with a grin, “Thanks for the compliment, but I’m not here for that. My job is a little more… dangerous.” As you danced, the hem of your dress rode up your thigh just enough to reveal the knife holster in your garter belt. It pleased you greatly to see this handsome stranger do a double-take; that meant he was looking at your upper thigh in the first place. “I just liked what I saw in you… do you like what you see in me?”

Somehow, your little joke had endeared him to you, however minutely. Instead of brushing you off the man paused his jerky dancing for a moment to really take you in. Then, he caved. “Would you like a drink?” He asked.

You smirked. “Who would I be if I turned down a free drink from a handsome stranger,”

He met you in the middle as he offered you his hand. “I never promised it would be free,”

So, the two of you found yourselves at the bar, bodies leaned into each other and away from the rest of the sweltering crowd as the bartender slid you your order. The stranger was drinking a brandy straight while you opted for a sidecar. It was enough alcohol that you were starting to feel pretty buzzed, but you still felt in full control of yourself. You took a long sip before speaking. “So, what should I call you?”

It took him a moment to respond but once he did, he seemed sure of himself. “You can call me Helmut, but Baron is fine as well,”

You cocked up an eyebrow. “Is that a nickname?”

“More of a title,”

He took a drink as you gawked. “Like royalty?”

“Not like. I am,”

Your cheeks flushed. The rational part of your mind was so stunned by the ease with which Helmut lied that it seemed to short circuit completely, leaving you very puzzled and more than a little intrigued. “Well, pardon me, Mr. Baron. What’s royalty like you doing in a place like this?”

“There are plenty of reasons a man like me would have business here. A woman as beautiful as you, though… not so much,” he waved his hand in loose gestures as he spoke, “Why risk your life and beauty for this? A life living in the underground where you cannot so much as dream of seeing the stars?”

You finished your drink in one large swig. It burned down your throat but you relished in the pain. “Not all of us are lucky enough to be born in a place where we can see the stars. Funny enough, though, I’m just about to get out,”

“Is that right?”

“I finally saved up enough money from small jobs to buy my way out from under the Power Broker’s thumb,” Something about the way Helmut smiled at you made you feel safe. It was like you could tell him your worst, darkest secrets and not feel an ounce of fear or guilt. “I’m nothing special here, a small-time bounty hunter, and I kept it that way for a reason. I’m not valuable and I don’t know much. If I just pay my dues and keep the money coming until I can get their claws out of my back, I should be free to leave with a freighter tomorrow morning,”

Helmut was quick to respond. “Ah, travel by freighter. It’s terribly dangerous to be a stowaway, you know? Impossible to predict quite what the seas will be like,”

“Well, that’s just a risk I’ll have to take to get out of here and stop… what was it that you said I was doing? Risking my life and beauty?”

The two of you chuckled as Helmut took one last drink to empty his glass. Then, the conversation stilled. Around you people were alive, gyrating to the music as their pulses thumped to the beat, but it was like they weren’t even there. Instead, your whole being was focused on the strange man in front of you who had stolen away your sensibilities with his cool tone and thick accent. He made you feel alive. No, more than alive. Every color was brighter, every sound was sharper, every sip of your drink was crisper. He was a once-in-a-lifetime man, and this was a once-in-a-lifetime night. Oh, to hell with it!

“I like you, Baron,” you purred, pressing yourself close to him. His breath hitched the moment you touched him. He acted as if it had been a very long time since he was last touched like that. “And I think you like me too. In fact, I think you like me enough that we should take this conversation somewhere a little more private. What do you say?”

He didn’t respond. Instead, his gloved hand made its way around your wrist, and in a moment’s time, he was pulling you across the crowded dance floor towards a small, secluded hallway. You assumed that meant yes.

The instant you made it to the shelter of the shadows Helmut was on you like a man starved. One of his hands was quick to explore the skin just above the hem of your dress as the other pressed against the wall, caging you in and holding you as a more than willing hostage to his affections. He didn’t kiss your face, and you weren’t complaining about that, but he did put his mouth to good use sucking a dark bruise into your collarbone. His ministrations only stopped when a high, keening sound escaped your lips.

“You like that, don’t you, meine kleine schlampe?” he growled through gritted teeth. Something about his tone turned your already weak legs to jelly. The second you went limp in his grip, though, he pulled back. Straightening himself out, he offered you a steadying arm. You took it without hesitation. “I’m terribly sorry to be so rude. I assure you that I am not usually the type of man to hook up with someone on a whim, I’ve simply been… indisposed for many years and haven’t had many opportunities for pleasure, especially not with a woman as beautiful as you,”

His compliment was enough to have you blushing like a schoolgirl. You had killed more people than you could reasonably count, and probably fucked even more, but something about the way Helmut looked and sounded and acted made you feel almost innocent to his advances. He was a drug and you needed to get your fix before he disappeared forever.

“Does that mean you think I’m special?” You asked, all doe eyes with an innocent smile. Helmut ate it right up.

“Yes, schatzi. Very special,”

You hitched a leg up, letting your heel dig into his expensive dress pants and drag him closer to you once again. “First your little slut and now your little treasure? Which one is it, Helmut?”

“And so smart,”

“Move, Baron!”

At your insistence, Helmut was on you once again, leaving a trail of hot, wet kisses down your neck as he fiddled with his gloves, yanking them off and shoving them in his back pocket before he continued. “So demanding,” he chided, and yet he continued to lavish you with affection, his hand climbing higher and higher up your thigh. Your back was pressed flush to the wall now, and you were painfully aware of just how warm Helmut was. He smelled like a rich man’s cologne and yet his skin tasted of cheap soap when you leaned in to give him a bruise of his own.

“You love it,” you replied. He let out a husky laugh.

“I suppose I do,” he chuckled, and then his fingers brushed over your core. Your knees buckled. Helmut kept you upright with his body as he continued to taunt you through your underwear, but he seemed more confident now, almost cocky. “My needy schatzi, have you no patience?”

Your response was breathless; a confession.

“Not with you,”

Something about your words lit a fire in Helmut’s eyes. In an instant he had your leg hiked up while he ground his hardened length against your clothed wetness. Your mind went blank. He felt big. A mindless whimper fell from your lips.

“How do you want me?” Helmut asked. As he spoke he ran a light finger down your elevated thigh. You offered up another whimper. “I’ll need you to use your words and tell me what you want or I can’t give it to you,” His tone had you wet enough that you worried you were dripping.

With a gulp, you managed to fumble out the words. “I’ll blow you first if you promise to fuck me,”

That had him grinning like a wolf. “Perhaps you are my little schlampe, so eager to get down on your knees for me…” And you were. Even on shaky legs, you found yourself happily falling to your knees as the Baron fumbled with his fly. It was only then that you found yourself gazing down the hall towards the cacophony of lights and sounds and people maybe 20 feet away from your hiding place in the shadows. As if he could sense your discomfort, Helmut paused. “Are you alright?”

You nodded quickly. “I just forgot we were out in the open for a second,”

“Do you want to stop? If the location is the problem, I would gladly pause so we can find a new hideaway,” he stopped short, looking down and meeting your heavily lidded gaze, “or perhaps the idea of putting on a show excites you?” Your heart jumped out of your chest. Helmut noticed. “Well, if my little schlampe is so keen on putting on a show, she should get a move on,”

That was your cue to get to work. In a swift motion, you finished unzipping his fly and shifted his boxers, letting his lovely cock spring free. It was a pleasant penis and far as they went, average in length but thick with a leaking purple tip at half-mast. Just looking at it made you clamp your legs together.

Slowly, you gave a tentative lick up the underside of his length. He felt heavy on your tongue in the best of ways. Helmut jerked upward, a man possessed. You couldn’t help but laugh. “It’s been a long time, huh?”

“Less talking, more working little schlam-” you cut Helmut off quickly by taking most of his length into his mouth. That seemed to shut him up. His wolf-like grin had dissolved into a slack-jawed mess the second you started to suck him off. Oh, this was going to be fun.

For the most part, the Baron let you set the pace, bobbing your head and taking as much of his length as you comfortably could, but after a short while his hands were buried in your hair as he fought the urge to buck into your throat, hard. With a particularly rough snap of his hips, Helmut pulled away.

“You are an angel from heaven, schatzi,” he groaned, pulling himself slowly from your mouth as you got your first good deep breath in a while, “but a deal is a deal, and it wouldn’t be quite fair if I got to have all the fun, now would it?” Your breath hitched in your throat. Finally time for the main event.

Helmut was surprisingly gentle with you as he offered you a hand and helped you back up, only pausing to wipe a line of dribble off your chin with his thumb. With anyone else, it would have felt wholly humiliating but with Helmut… well, it did things to you you would rather not admit. You quirked up an eyebrow, though, when he got on his knees in turn, mirroring your past position. “What are you doing, Baron?”

“I simply assumed my sweet schatzi would enjoy a reward for taking my cock so well,” his words had you biting your lip as your cheeks flushed, “now be a good girl and take what I give you. I want to hear those pretty noises you made earlier,” With that, his face disappeared under your skirt. He pulled down your panties and… snickered?

“What now?” you groaned, squirming as his hot breath hit your exposed nub.

“You’re sopping wet,” he replied. Out of habit, you moved to shut your legs but found Helmut’s large hand was holding them open. “I do enjoy being sandwiched between your thighs, but you shouldn’t hide yourself from me. Take your pleasure. You’ve earned it,” That was when he began his assault on your folds.

You had been with plenty of partners over the years, all with varying proficiencies when it came to giving pleasure, but no one had ever made you feel quite as good as Helmut did while you gripped his hair and rode his face with reckless abandon. He always hit just the right spot, alternating between sucking on your sensitive clit and running his rough tongue in sloppy circles against it. In no time flat your pleasure was building toward’s its peak as your knees trembled.

“Helmut,” you squeaked, “Helmut I’m gonna cuuuUUOH!”

You were suddenly thrown over the edge of pleasure as the Baron worked you open with his fingers, pressing that spot inside of you just right. It was a revelation. Nothing would ever compare to him and you hadn’t even fucked yet. Once you had regained some semblance of stability he emerged from his place between your thighs, face slick with your juices, wearing the expression of a cat that got the cream.

“You make such lovely sounds for me, schatzi,” Helmut groaned, rising from his place at your feet and reaching into his pocket. While he fumbled for a condom you took the time to actually remove your panties, lifting one shaky leg at a time before balling them up and tossing them on the ground. You could grab them later. Or not! In all honesty, your ruined undies were the last thing on your mind as your watched Helmut roll the condom onto his proud cock, pumping himself a few times. “Now, are you sure you want this?”

You had never felt more sober in your whole life despite the drinks you’d downed earlier.

“God, yes,”

“Wonderful,”

He caged you into his body once again, lining himself up on your slick folds, and then with a pronounced bite against your collarbone, he was entering you. It wasn’t painful or uncomfortable, you just felt full, like a missing piece of your body had been completed. For the first few thrusts, you were too blissed out to really take note of anything around you, but once you tuned back into the world of the living you realized Helmut was talking. Well, babbling was more like it. He seemed to simply be speaking his stream of consciousness into your ear as he pistoned in and out of you like a madman. There was a jilted rhythm to it, but the abnormality kept you on your toes.

“I won’t be letting you go any time soon, schatzi, and definitely not on some dank freighter like a rat from the gutters. No, you will travel with me. Once I help my friends and slip away from the front lines I can take you anywhere your little heart desires. Paris, Vienna, Australia… Mein Gott, what a sweet cunt,”

Any sane woman, after hearing his sex-drunken musings, would have run. They would have heard the wild ramblings of a madman and left after their little fling was done to never see him again. It was only rational. He didn’t even know your real name. Sane women didn’t run away with strangers claiming to be barons they hooked up with in a seedy club selling stolen Van Goghs in a hub of the criminal underworld.

The only thing was, though, that you weren’t a sane woman.

You were a killer, a child left in the streets to live or die who had scraped themselves together and dragged themselves towards life. So what if the idea of some rich mysterious benefactor with a good dick coming in to save the day sounded fantastic? It was fantastic. Like your own personal version of Pretty Woman. Even if he wasn’t as rich as he claimed to be, being poor and getting dicked down by him was better than being poor and alone.

For just a moment, and with no regrets, you let yourself get lost in the fantasy and just let go.

It was as if Helmut could sense a difference.

“Are you close, little schlampe?” He gasped, letting his thrusts take on a faster staccato rhythm.

You could do little more than moan and nod as he pounded you into the wall. That seemed to be enough for him to get the message, though.

“What a good girl,” he purred. His mouth was so close to your ear, his hot breath tickling the sensitive flesh with each heaving breath he took. As he chased his own climax, he brought a hand between your bodies and rubbed tight, wet circles around your clit. It was already sensitive, your body was only barely recovering from your first orgasm, and yet something about the overstimulation was thrilling, like racing towards an impossible dream. With a shout, you came for the second time, melting into Baron Helmut’s arms as he quickly followed.

The two of you stayed there, slumped against the cool wall and still connected by your dripping sexes, for a few moments, breathing heavy. Surprisingly, you were the first to speak.

“Wow,” you breathed, letting a soft laugh escape your lips.

Helmut returned the sentiment. “You were wonderful,” In a strange moment of intimacy, he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, but then he pulled out, tying off the full condom and tossing it to the ground as he tucked himself back into his boxers and zipped up his fly.

“Are you just gonna leave that there?” you made a gesture towards his litter.

“They have janitors,”

A burbling laugh escaped from your lips. “That they do,”

Back in the main room of the party, the crowd had only grown larger as the night progressed. Nobody had seen you, nor had they noticed your cries as they danced and drank and made merry under the neon lights. You were, for all intents and purposes, invisible at Helmut’s side. Within and without. There was something exhilarating about knowing he was the only one that truly saw you in a room packed with hundreds. It was like something out of a twisted fairytale.

“So…” you broached the subject gently while you pulled down your dress to protect your modesty, “Did you mean what you said back there about Paris and Vienna, or…”

“Oh, you heard that?”

You snickered. “It was pretty hard not to with you breathing in my ear,”

“I apologize,” he leaned against the wall beside you, shoulder to shoulder in the darkness, “but yes, I meant what I said. I-”

Suddenly, from down the hall, a booming voice interrupted your moment.

“There you are!”

“Goddamnit, Zemo, I thought we told you to stay low not hire an escort,”

There, at the mouth of the hallway, stood two massive men. They were obviously displeased, and though their faces were obscured by the lights you could tell you weren’t the one they were after.

They called him Zemo… where had you heard that name before?

Helmut stepped away from the wall with a shrug. “At least I didn’t cause a scene by forgetting to put my phone on silent,”

The larger of the two men stayed where he was, while the other walked to meet the Baron in the middle.

“I swear to God, man, you’ve gotten ten times more insufferable since I learned you were rich.

The Baron shrugged. “It comes with the territory,”

“But you don’t have to be such a jackass about it,”

You felt it was a good time to chime in.

“Thank you so much for that, Helmut, but I think I should give you guys some privacy,” you said, straightening out your dress and walking deeper into the hallway. There had to be an exit somewhere…

“Wait!” When you turned, you found Helmut rushing to meet you. The men in the background looked shocked and almost smug. “Save your money. Meet me out at the airstrip tomorrow afternoon if you feel like seeing me again. If not, know that the Power Broker doesn’t let go of assets cheap, and you just slept with a man with a million dollar bounty, so buying your freedom isn’t an option. If you want to go without me, you’ll have to hitch a ride on a cargo ship but not as a stowaway. Working for your keep is the best way to stay under the radar. Nobody can touch you once you’r-”

You cut him off by pressing a finger to his lips. “I’ll see you at your private jet, Baron,”

He smirked. “So you will,” With as much gusto as a man could muster, he returned to his companions but not before offering one last goodbye. “Farewell, schatzi, until tomorrow,”

As you leaned up against the wall once more, you watched them go with a twinkle in your eye.

“Who was that?”

“None of your business, James,”

“Guys, what the hell did I just step on?”

“I believe that was my used rubber,”

“ZEMO!”

-------

a/n: I hope you enjoyed the filth! I haven’t written for Zemo before, even though I’ve loved him for years, but he’s definitely going into my main rotation now. If you have any ideas, send them my way! I’d love to fill the void, because there just aren’t very many Zemo x reader fics out there. If you enjoyed this, maybe reblog or leave a comment! I’d love to hear your thoughts. Thanks again!

Please do not post my works to any other sites, thanks! <3

[fruitcoops]

I think it would be really interesting for leo and sirius to talk ab how they both didn’t go to college and how they both joined the nhl at 18 but had v different upbringings

Ooo, I like this one! I’m always down for some Cap and Knutty bonding. SW credit goes to @lumosinlove!

TW for mentioned bad parenting

“Kinda weird, isn’t it?” Leo said, breaking the nighttime silence after many long minutes of just their breathing. Sirius hummed in question. “Starting all this so young.”

Sirius made a noncommittal noise and Leo shifted, never taking his eyes off the sky. There was too much light pollution to see the stars properly in Gryffindor, but the roof of the rink didn’t have a bad view; the planes flying overhead brought pinpricks of brightness to the indigo blur.

“Was it hard for you?”

He heard Sirius’ coat move. “Was what hard?”

“Starting the NHL at eighteen.”

There was a long beat of silence. “Sometimes.”

“I didn’t know if I would make it,” Leo confessed, still barely above a murmur. Nobody else was around, but it didn’t feel right to talk in normal voices. The whole world was muted, save for the noise of the city below them. “There was just so much to do.”

Sirius laughed softly. “I hate to break it to you, rookie, but that doesn’t change.”

“How do you deal with it?”

“Before, or now?”

Leo thought for a moment. “Both.”

“Before, I would go home and shoot pucks until I was too tired to stand up. Sometimes I would read.” It wasn’t a secret, but it still made Leo’s heart hurt to remember. Nobody as kind and hardworking as Sirius deserved that. “Now, I make myself some food, take a shower, and steal Re’s softest hoodie.”

Leo could hear his smile in the dark—it echoed his own. “Nothing better, huh?”

“Nope.”

“Finn’s fit me best,” he mused. “But Lo’s smell better.”

“Ah, he finally discovered deodorant?”

“Shut up,” Leo teased, elbowing his ribs. Sirius laughed a little louder; in the light of the streetlamps and the absence of his granite-hard focus, it was easy to remember that he was only 26. Leo had worshipped him as a kid, but now he just saw Sirius for what he was. His captain, who guided him through the playoffs even when his personal life was crumbling apart. His older brother, though Sirius certainly wouldn’t think of him that way. His friend.

“Really, though, it’s important to have those connections,” Sirius said when they both calmed down. “Being alone is good, but only if you know you have people to talk to when you need them.”

“Was it easier when you weren’t living with someone?”

“No.” The answer was immediate.

“Sometimes I want the apartment to myself.” Leo lowered his voice unconsciously, then sighed. “It’s not because I don’t want them there. I just need to be alone. Wash the dishes. Clean my room. Call my mom.”

“You should tell them.”

He turned his head slightly; Sirius was still scanning the sky. “Is that what you did?”

“It took a couple hiccups, but yeah. If one of us needs some alone time, the other will go to the grocery store or take a walk, maybe hang out with friends. You just have to make sure your boys know that it’s not personal.”

“You’re freakishly good at sage advice.”

Sirius snorted. “Merci, rookie.”

“I’m not a rookie anymore.”

“Yeah, you are.” He raised his hands, as if outlining a marquee. “The Eternal Rookie, starring Leo Knut.”

Leo stuck his tongue out, feeling rather petulant about the whole thing. “Watch it, Cap, I’m gonna sic Dumo on you.”

“My own father?” Sirius gasped dramatically. “How could you?”

“Did you ever get homesick?”

The question was out of the blue—he didn’t blame Sirius for faltering. Honestly, Leo was kicking himself for asking in the first place, though he had been keeping it in for ages. Unspoken rule of the Lions #1: Don’t ask Cap about his childhood.

“I…” Sirius fell silent once more.

“I’m sorry,” Leo apologized, and he meant it. “That came out of nowhere.”

“I missed Regulus,” Sirius continued carefully without acknowledging him. “But no, I didn’t get homesick. I didn’t have time, or a real reason.”

Alone in a new city, finally out of a horrible living situation, but desperately missing the little brother he left behind… Leo couldn’t even begin to imagine going through it when the NHL by itself was already overwhelming to his teenage brain. He scooted an inch closer until their shoulders touched. “I get homesick every couple of months.”

“You have a kind family.”

“Have you even met them?”

“At the party.” Sirius’ smile was practically audible. “Your mother was very excited to see me.”

“Oh, god,” Leo groaned. “What happened?”

“She—“ He broke off with a laugh. “She was very nice, I promise, but I think I surprised her because she squeaked when I said ‘hello’.”

Leo shook his head. “Did you sneak up on her?”

“I’m six two, I can’t sneak up on anyone!”

“You walk like a fucking ghost, dude! It’s creepy!”

“Okay, rude.”

“I swear, you and Loops need to be belled like cats,” Leo huffed.

They lapsed back into comfortable quiet for a few more minutes as a train rattled past on one side and the metro busses rolled down Main Street on the other. It had taken Leo a long time to figure out Gryff’s layout, and even longer to get used to the sounds of the city.

“What does it feel like?”

Leo blinked, unsure if he had heard correctly. “What?”

“Being homesick.” Sirius shifted again and folded his hands over his stomach. “I didn’t notice much of a difference in practices when I started the NHL, and going back to my parents’ house wasn’t my exactly a highlight of my year.”

Curiosity overrode his tact and reasoning skills. “You never asked Logan?”

“Non. It was different, with him. He had already left to go to college before I knew him, and spent four years away from his family.”

“Right.” Leo forgot about that on occasion. That Finn and Logan might be five years older than him, but they had only been rookies a year or two prior. Not everyone went straight from their city select team to an official draft. “It’s hard to describe.”

Sirius made an understanding noise, but he couldn’t entirely mask his disappointment. Leo licked his lips and tried again.

“It’s like a piece of you isn’t where it’s supposed to be. And it keeps tugging on your chest, but you never know when it’s going to start and stop so you just… deal with it. You ignore it some days and you think about it other days.” He swallowed around the lump in his throat. “The hard days are when you remember you can’t go back to the way things were before. I don’t even call my mom sometimes, ‘cause I know it’ll make me sadder.”

“The way things were before?”

“Yeah, like—like all my classmates are in college, and I’m laying on a roof with one of the most famous hockey players in the history of forever.” That drew a light laugh from them both. “I’m gonna go back to my reunion in a couple years and have literally nothing in common with the people I used to be friends with.”

“Sometimes I wish I went to college,” Sirius said. “But I would have missed so much if I did. I don’t think I would have been happy there.”

“Finn and Logan get weird about college.” Maybe he shouldn’t be talking about it, but Leo had the feeling none of their conversation would leave the rooftop. “It was hard for them, with all their shit.”

“Re does, too.” He recognized the sad edge in Sirius’ voice; it was the same as his own. “For a different reason. It started good, and ended bad.”

“I’m glad I missed out on that,” Leo said, biting down the urge to scream at the universe for putting their significant others through so much hardship at an already-difficult time. None of them deserved the pain they went through. “Besides, it’s not like we need degrees to play hockey, and we’ll have plenty of money afterward.”

“I never thought about my life after hockey until my ankle.”

“My parents always pushed me to make sure I wanted to do the NHL instead of more school.”

“You’re lucky to have them.”

“I wish you did.”

The words hung suspended between them before Leo could swallow them back down, somehow dangerous and calming at the same time. It wasn’t like he had never thought about it before; he just hadn’t said it out loud. The first time he had seen Sirius’ parents across the rink had given him a case of the heebie-jeebies so strong he had to shower twice. All the times after that just made him angry.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Sirius’ voice was quiet, but not upset. “You’re not the first person to say it. I’m glad you feel like you can be honest with me.”

Leo frowned. “Well, yeah. Obviously.”

“I try really hard to not be an asshole captain, so it actually does mean a lot.”

“I don’t think you could be an asshole if you tried.”

The barking laugh that split the night startled Leo so bad he nearly jumped out of his skin; Sirius clapped a hand over his mouth, though he was still snickering. “Sorry, sorry, I just—holy shit, I forgot you didn’t know me before. Mon dieu.”

“You weren’t that bad,” Leo protested. “Pots said you used to be grumpier, but that’s it.”

Sirius shook his head, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes. “I was such a dick. There’s not a single picture of the whole team where I’m smiling for about two years and I was such a stickler for the rules.”

Leo gaped at him. “You followed rules?”

“To the fucking letter. It was awful.”

“What happened?”

Sirius shrugged. “I got friends. Idiot friends who did things like showing me the easiest way onto the roof. Pots used to drag me up here every Friday.”

“Really?”

“Ouais.” Mischief flitted over his face. “He skipped date night with Lily once on accident, and she tracked us up here like a bloodhound. It was terrifying.”

“What did you do?” Lily was one of the nicest people Leo knew, but he knew better than to get on her bad side.

“Lied to her face while James hid behind that strobe light.”

“Did it work?”

“Are you kidding?” he snorted. “She called me a liar and suggested getting a better best friend. That was after she told James he’s better have something nice planned for their next date if he ever wanted to get in her pants again.”

“And yet you didn’t listen to her.” Leo tsked. “Of all the people on the team, you chose the hot mess.”

“Trust me, rookie, James had his whole life figured out compared to me.”

“Did you…” Leo trailed off and but his lip. He had pushed his luck a lot already; who knew if one more question would be the tipping point? “Did you ever think about coming out? Even just to Pots.”

Sirius didn’t hesitate. “After every single game.”

“For seven years?”

“Up until the day those pictures were leaked. Even more after Re and I were together.”

“How old were you when you knew?”

“13. You?”

Leo exhaled slowly. “I’m not sure. I think I had an idea of it as a kid, but didn’t really get it until I was in high school. My parents were even more worried about the NHL after I told them.”

“They worry a lot about you.”

“Only child, and I was going for a wildly unstable career path with no guarantee that I would ever see the ice.”

“They’re proud of you. More than you know.” Sirius’ watch beeped. “It’s ten o’clock. Are you supposed to be home?”

“I should probably make sure my boys haven’t burned down the apartment.” Neither of them made an attempt to move. “Can we do this again sometime?”

“Of course.”

You’re like a brother to me, he wanted to say. I don’t know who else I can talk to like this. “Thank you.”

“Any time. We don’t have to do extra practice beforehand, either.”

Leo nudged him gently. “You’re the best captain ever.”

“You’re the best rookie, rookie.”

“I’m not a rookie.”

“Yeah, you are.”

Yeah, I am, he thought as they laid side-by-side in silence once more with the past behind them and the future ahead. And if I end up like you, it means I did something right.

[mxcat777]

Oooooooohhhh...

The implications...

Allow me to ramble as my thoughts go along, hopefully I'll be able to type quickly enough...

So Dream meets Hob again. And not a few weeks later unmakes the Corinthian. There would be a possibility for changes in series canon timeline, but one thing at a time, I'll get to it.

So, Corinthian unmade, I'm choosing to believe that Dream can pretty much completely reconstruct him, be it with an added in failsafe or some such.

After he has done so, the Corinthian might still be Annoyed(tm), and honestly, who wouldn't be after being unmade by the guy who broke your dad's heart and with that his promise to you. After Matthew learns of the full situation this may be forcefully pointed out to Dream if the bloke does not realize himself. Which is, in all honesty, quite likely.

So. Dream realizes, one way or another, that he may have fucked up (no 'may have' about it, champ, but whatever you need to not throw a tantrum so long as you do, in fact, apologize), and goes to the Corinthian like, hey, uhm, I've been told I have acted inconsiderately, may I attempt to make this right?

So Dream goes to Hob. A Hob who is quite surprised to see his Friend after a mere month instead of a whole century. Naturally, his first question is if the end of the world is nigh. It isn't. Well, at least as far as his Friend is concerned. No, his Friend seems to have grown a singular social skill (still not nearly enough to warrant the plural 'skills') and says something along the lines of 'I've been reliably informed that friends see each other more often than once a century'. Hob enthusiastically agrees. He also then gets a name! Multiple even! Wow! Can this day get any better?

So they chat some, and they chat some more, and Hob can't help but notice his friend - Morpheus, or Dream - is... Nervous? About something? So Hob carefully, very carefully, asks, 'is something bothering you, my friend? You seem a bit twitchy, is all'.

Dream, still not used to the idea that Hob can read him so easily, reverts to his primal instincts, and Deflects. Hob evidently does not buy it, but doesn't push, and continues to ramble on about something or other. Dream, also not used to having his boundaries respected by anyone outside his subjects, is thrown for another loop, before shaking himself and, quite rudely, upon reflection, interrupts Hob with 'there is something I wish to tell you'.

Hob knows this. He falls silent, replies 'ok, go ahead', and waits, patiently, while Dream scrapes together all the tact he possesses.

'This is something I should have told you long ago. I have been trying to do better, recently. This is part of that, and I hope you may forgive me in time for keeping this from you for so long.'

Hob's starting to get a little worried now. The guy kept quiet about his name for over 600 years, for pity's sake, he hasn't apologized for that, let along begged for forgiveness in advance!

'Dream is not only my name, but my function and the definition of my being as well. I am the lord and creator of all dreams. I have created many, and all of them unique. All except one are completely of the dreaming, of my realm. That one, however, I created around a soul who never took my sister's hand, who was roaming the earth restlessly.'

'Your sister?'

'Death. She was with me in 1389, she found you amusing, and encouraged me to approach you. The reason you do not die is because she refuses you her gift. If ever you change your mind, you must simply call for her, and she will come to you.'

'Right. Good to know. That wasn't what you wanted to tell me, right?'

'No. I-'

He stops. This is hard. Words have never been this hard. Gathering the courage to speak of certain things may be, but the specific words and phrasing have always come easily to the Prince of Stories.

'It's about that dream, right?'

'Nightmare. Yes. He is my best work. Recently, a lot occurred surrounding him. He rebelled against me. I had to unmake and later remake him. I now understand why it all happened. That is what I am trying to set to rights, but. It is hard. The words resist coming to me. But must tell you. It is only right.'

'Would it be easier to show me, or is it not something that can be shown?'

'It is. And it might be. Can I find you in your home this evening?'

'Uhh, yeah, yes, of course! This all seems very serious, should I prepare for bad news?'

'I hope you will not take it as such, though there is a chance. I will leave should you ask me to.'

'Oh shit. That bad, huh?'

'Possibly.'

[A.N. holy shit that got away from me, I'll revert back to outlining now, I don't actually have the time to write a whole ass one-shot on the fly]

Evening comes.

Dream arrives. With the Corinthian in tow.

The Corinthian is Nervous as fuck. You thought Dream was nervous about Hob's reaction, triple that and you're getting somewhere near the Corinthian.

He's about to meet his dad. With teeth for eyes. He's a little insecure alright!

Hob opens the door.

For a second, he doesn't recognize him, with the modern clothes and the sunglasses and the way he's turned away slightly because of the nerves.

But then. [Good lord, here we go again, dialogues must be written, I'm SORRY!]

'Robin?'

A sharp inhale and a twitch, nothing more.

'Robin, my boy, is it you? Is it truly you? Tell me, please speak to me, if it is indeed you, my s-'

Hob's voice breaks. The Corinthian is trembling. He hasn't had anyone call him that since he died. Since he tore himself out of Death's embrace to haunt that fucker who killed him.

He feels a hand on his cheek, under his chin. Lifting his face up and making him look directly into Hob's eyes. His father's eyes. Those exact same, brown, kind, warm eyes. Except that they are older, so much older than he knew them. And they're crying. He's crying too, he now notices. Hob wipes away the tears rolling down his cheek, his hand coming away bloodstained. He doesn't even look at it.

'My little bird. It really is you, is it not?'

A sob wracks its way through the Corinthian. He is so close to breaking. Or has he broken already? He doesn't know, doesn't care, because it doesn't matter. His dad is here, his papa, and it'll be okay, if he breaks, Dad will help him put all the pieces back together.

Another sob escapes him, and even more tears start flowing. Hob steps closer and, with trembling fingers, lifts the glasses away.

Immediately, the Corinthian turns hus face down, away, hide it, hide his hideousness, the part of him that used to be his mother's eyes, untill that son of a bitch slashed a knife through them. And now they're not even blind, ruined eyes. They're nothing like eyes. They're what makes him a monster, a nightmare.

But then, again, the gentle hands of his father, slowly turn his face back up. He expects to see, not disgust, exactly, he knows his father, he wouldn't be disgusted, that would maybe even be bearable, that's no different than what he himself feels. But he does expect to see anger, shock, fear, devastation, or something similar. Maybe pity.

There is some shock in Hob's eyes, though not nearly as much as he expected. More like surprise than shock. But other than that. The Corinthian doesn't see anything other than-

Stop. No. Wait.

He can't-

Why would he-

He's not supposed to- no- Dream made him like this, it makes sense that he is pleased with him this way. But not his- not him!

He isn't human anymore! He's a nightmare, a monster, a thing! A horrendous thing! Without his mother's eyes.

So why.

Why is there still so much of it.

It shouldn't be there.

But he is so. So thankful it is.

He isn't broken yet. He knows now. Because he can now feel his final piece of control tremble.

Another sob. More blood. Hob's hands are streaked with red now. He hardly notices.

'Robin...'

He smiles. His next words come out in nothing more than a whisper.

'My son.'

He breaks. He is not sobbing anymore, he's weeping. His knees buckle and strongwarmsafehomedad arms catch him and pull him close.

They're still standing in the hallway.

Five minutes later, Hob realizes this, and slowly pulls his son inside. Dream doesn't follow. Hob looks at him. He's standing awkwardly, and resignedly outside, looking ready to leave. Hob will not have it.

'Get inside.'

His voice is hoarse. Oh, yes, he's crying too.

Dream looks very uncertain, but he obeys. He closes the door with a soft *snick* that is still way too loud and flinches. He stands inside the door.

Hob guides his son to the couch, his child, who might not in the most accurate sense be alive, but he's here. With him. And fuck all the rest, what does it matter.

Dream follows through the hall and stands just inside the living room.

'Explain.'

Dream flinches again. Hob frowns.

'What are you- I'm not mad! Why the fuck would I be mad! Just. Please, explain this miracle to me!'

An agonized sound escapes from the bundle of limbs in Hob's arms.

'Robin?'

Another sound, and then,

'...how is this a miracle.'

Dream looks to be made of stone, agonizing, rather be anyone, anywhere, anywhen else, stone.

'How-? My Little Bird, you are here, in my arms! How can it not be!'

'I'm-'

'Don't you dare call yourself anything bad! Dream said you are his masterpiece and I'd say he should know! More importantly, you're my Robin! You're mine! And I love you!'

Hob feels the body in his arms shudder and shock against him as his shirt slowly gets soaked red.

He looks back up at Dream.

'Please.'

Dream explains. It's slow going, with more broken off sentences and hesitation than the Corinthian has ever experienced from him. But he tell the story on of the Corinthian.

Hob is silent for a long moment after. Dream almost makes to leave, when Hob speaks.

'Sit down.'

'Pardon?'

'You were about to leave because you thought I wanted you to. Sit down.'

Dream sits down.

Hob is quiet for a while longer.

'Thank you.'

Dream stares at him.

'Why...'

'You cared enough to take him in. You had no obligation to. Amd you reunited us.'

Dream stares again.

'After I kept him from you for over four centuries!'

'Yes.'

Dream doesn't understand. It must show on his face.

'It will take some time before I can forgive that, you're right. But that doesn't stop me from being eternally grateful that I got to see him again at all. And I don't see much point in kicking you out after you decided to make things right.'

Dream is silent after that. He takes a moment to fully realize and appreciate what he has in Hob.

Meanwhile, the Corinthian has regained his breath. He tries to say something. It takes him a few tries. His voice isn't working. Eventually, he manages a hoarse whisper.

'Dad.'

Hob, for the first time in over four hundred years, hears his son call for him.

'My Little Bird. I'm here.'

Robin, for the first time in over four hundred years, sinks into his dad's embrace and smiles.

What if AU... What if the Corinthian was Robin Gadling?

Dream, inspired and empathetic of Hob Gadlings plight following 1689, desires to watch over the young soul of Robin Gadling. Thus he seeks out his Sister, to request he be given into Dream's care as a raven. But Robin never took his sisters hand. He lingers on in the Waking world, an angry spectre. Vengeful, blind from where Thomas Shelply slashed his eyes. Desperately calling for his Father's aid and comfort.

So Dream salvages what he can. Uses that dark energy to fashion a nightmare. A dark mirror of the human that once was. Full of the Gadling lust for life, but violent, hedonistic... Constantly wanting.

The Corinthian serves Dream faithfully beacuse it is what his father would wish. Becomes the pinnacle of Dream's Nightmares because it is the Dream Lord and his Sister who prolong his father's life. Existing on the promise that one day he will be allowed to reunite with his father in the Waking. Until 1889.... When Dream cruelly severs himself from the one thing that keeps the Corinthian truly loyal to him...Hob Gadling.

From that moment on, his thoughts turn to vengeance for his father's heartbreak. Insuring his freedom to return to permanently to the Waking world, to watch over his Father

[everlasting-stories]

To Feel Again [M]

Genre: light angst, romance

Warnings[!]: smut, penetration, creampie, unprotected sex, mentions of adult toys

Pairing: Doyoung x Reader

Words: 4.4k / One-shot

▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎

Valentine's Day: the day of roses and hearts and chocolates and romantic candlelit dinners. When people proposed marriage and professed undying love.

You sighed, staring unseeing into your bowl of cornflakes as they succumbed to their milky grave and turned to soggy goop. Funny how a date on a calendar could open the pit of despair that lived somewhere near your stomach. It had to be near your stomach. You've been reasonably hungry until you've noticed the date and the pit opened. Your hunger had fallen into it, and the memories and pain rose out of it.

There was a time when this day had been wonderful. Life had been wonderful, you didn't need Valentine's Day, but you celebrated it with reverence and, sometimes, wild abandon.

You knew what love was, what it felt like to love a man and how it felt to lose him. You remembered what he'd said that last morning, how he'd kissed you; how the sun had lit his face as he smiled, promising he'd be back. You also remembered the police, how the sun seemed to dim as they told you the phrases out of courtesy. They were sorry for your loss. They will let you know of details as soon as the investigation on the accident comes to an end.

Since that time, Valentine's Day had passed unheralded, unheeded and uncelebrated. You knew you were a joke of the office - entering thirties soon and never been fucked, that's what they said. The borning woman who had no idea what fun was, wouldn't have known what to do with a man if by some miracle you did catch the attention of one. They were wrong, of course. Not that it was any of their business; it certainly didn't affect your ability to do your job.

If you chose to act and dress your age and spend your evenings quietly, rather than as mutton dressed as lamb in some gaudy nightclub, surely that was your right?

You sighed again, getting up from the table, taking your cereal bowl and dumping the gloop down the sink. A bleak day of petty jibes and pitying looks lay ahead. At least you knew what to expect this year.

Last year had been your first Valentine's Day with this particular company and, therefore, your first with this particular bunch of malicious people - your fellow employees. As front counter receptionist, you were the company's first "public face" and some of your co-workers had decided it didn't look good if that face wasn't surrounded by gifts from admirers on this day.

When the first bunch of anonymous flowers had arrived, you've been flustered, flattered and flabbergasted that anyone would send you flowers. You had hurriedly cleared a space on the counter for them, proudly displaying them, fussing with them to show them off at their best and make them visible from the greatest distance. You kept touching them, moving them slightly, reaffirming they were really there. Your heart sang; someone had noticed you. Maybe he was too shy to reveal himself; maybe he was married and couldn't: your mind was alive with questions, trying to solve the mystery of their origin. You were all in all happy.

Then a large box of chocolates arrived, closely followed by more flowers. By lunchtime, these had been joined by a little plush cherub, two red plush love hearts, a pair of earrings, three more bunches of flowers, four assorted boxes of chocolates and a large jar of candy hearts. They all carried the same anonymous message. And you knew then and there what is the catch behind this.

By the end of the day there were nine flower arrangements, ten boxes of chocolates, three cherubs, the two red love hearts, three teddy bears, two jars of candy, the earrings and a gift box containing four pairs of edible undies. Just before the close of business the final humiliation came - a fantastically wrapped see through box containing an inflatable male doll with vibrating tongue, a massive purple vibrating dildo and a copy of the Sex for The Beginners book.

You had to stay at your post until the last visitor or client left. But the rest of the staff was already heading out of the building. Some boggled at your desk, some snickered, a couple made loud crass comments and a very few had appeared horrified at the pile of stuff surrounding yourself. The building had almost emptied before that last visitor departed. You were sure that, too, was a set-up, particularly when you saw it was the client that had been visiting quite frequently lately.

Myungsoo ushered the man to the street and turned back to you as you gathered your coat and handbag, ready to escape.

"Gee, you're a popular girl. Who would have thought?" He reached your counter and began collecting up the flowers, grinning madly. "Let me help you with all that."

Before you could say a word, he bundled all the flowers, chocolates and assorted other items into your arms. You could barely see where you were going. Myungsoo put his arm around your back and shepherded you out the door, peeking at the vibrator in its transparent box. "There you go, sweetheart. Looks like you're definitely gonna get some action tonight." He turned smartly away, laughing as he rapidly put distance between the two of you.

You obviously had thrown the whole lot in the nearest dumpster and hurried to the relative sanctuary of your car before breaking down and sobbing, burying your head in your hands to hide from prying eyes of curious passer-bys.

Standing at your kitchen sink, you wondered what they'd pull this year. It couldn't be worse, could it? You sighed again and then abruptly shook your head, standing straighter. To hell with it - you were not going to let them get to you today.

It had already begun when you arrived. A bouquet of irises sat at the front of the counter. You were tempted to throw them straight in the garbage, but decided they were too pretty, too unusual. So they stayed. Curiosity got the better of you as you looked at the card, expecting it to say something sappy and insincere, as last year's cards had.

"You are worth far more than they will ever realise. Hear the flowers."

You pondered the card. Hear the flowers?

What on earth did that mean? You raised an eyebrow as you settled into your post: at least it seemed this year would be more intriguing than last. During quiet moments throughout the morning, you'd pick up the card, reread the cryptic message and study the beautiful bouquet, but its secret was never revealed.

No gifts arrived for you, no more flowers. You were relieved, but it only served to deepen the mystery of the flowers. As your lunch hour approached, other staff began filtering out of their offices to take a break. They all noticed the irises. Several of the women stopped and commented on their beauty. No one laughed.

As always, you left the building for lunch. You would usually grab a sandwich somewhere and do a bit of window shopping. Anything to get away for an hour - if you stayed in the office, someone always "needed" you for something.

When you returned, a neatly typed page was on your desk: "The meaning of flowers". One line was highlighted in blue: "Iris: Have Faith. Don't Give Up On Hope." A single purple violet was pinned to the page. You scanned the page to find "Violet (Purple): You occupy my thoughts". You put the page to one side, but still in view, unsure whether to laugh at it and throw it along with the flowers away before the punch line or wait it out. This was definitely a far more sophisticated assault than last year.

Throughout the afternoon a steady procession of couriers arrived, carrying flowers and gifts. You nervously watched each one approach your counter, only to breathe a sigh of relief as the teddy bears and hearts, the chocolates and flowers were all destined for other souls.

At 4:30PM a man approached your station: nothing unusual in that; everyone that came to see someone had to check in with you. What was unusual was that he actually saw you as a fellow human, not a robot programmed to take names and give directions. He smiled at you, a real smile that reached his eyes and warmed your heart. Something familiar in his eyes...

"Good afternoon. My name is Kim Doyoung. I have an appointment to speak to Choi Myungsoo. Would you mind letting him know I am here, please?"

Quickly, you dialled Myungsoo's extension, giving him the information. Myungsoo, as usual was brusque to the point of rude, telling you to "entertain the idiot 'till I'm ready for him - he's not supposed to be here for another 15 minutes".

You were tempted to tell the polite gentleman exactly what Myungsoo had said, but instead used your tact and diplomacy (that was why you were hired after all) to tell him that "Mr. Choi is a little delayed. He will be available in a few minutes."

With that being said, you offered him a seat.

Again he smiled. "Those are beautiful flowers," he said, nodding towards the iris bouquet. "A discerning choice for a lovely lady."

You lowered your eyes, feeling the heat rise in your face, knowing you were blushing.

His voice softened and became much quieter. "You don't remember me, do you?" Your eyes flew to his face, confused. Were you supposed to know this charming man?

"I had an appointment here at the same time, on this day last year. I was waiting outside for a taxi when you left. That was uncalled for, the whole situation that happened - mean and heartless and exactly what I would expect of Myungsoo and his friends. I deal with them only because I must. They offer a service unparalleled in this town."

He leaned across the counter, his voice so low only you could hear. "How they manage it, I cannot tell. They are pig swill and don't know a pearl when confronted with one." Doyoung paused, seeming to weigh up his next statement, then leaned closer to you. "Did you hear the flowers?"

Your eyes again flew to his face, your mouth falling open a little. "You sent them?"

"I did. And the violet. I had hoped to counter whatever crass display they had planned this year. Would you possibly consider spending the evening with me?" His face was eager, hopeful. "A nice dinner?"

You were stunned, flattered, amazed - but also wary. This was Myungsoo's client. He could easily have been put up to this. You studied his face closely, seeking any hint of a lurking cad. His face fell. "But, of course, you have other plans. I apologise for embarrassing you." He moved away and sat, abashed, on one of the hideous lounge chairs to await his appointment.

You studied this man. He didn't seem to fit the mould of Myungsoo's usual cohorts. For one thing he was unerringly polite. He was also good looking, very, very good looking, without being outstanding or flashy. He was also much closer to your age than Myungsoo's and had an air of quiet confidence, like he had nothing to prove to anyone and nothing to fear from them either. You looked at the flowers. Could Myungsoo have possibly thought of something this elegant? You didn't think so. You took a deep breath: to hell with it.

"Mr. Kim?" He looked up. "What time would you like to pick me up?"

In your bedroom, staring at the clothes hanging limply in your closet, the cool bravado that had claimed you as you agreed to the date vanished. In its place indecision, doubt and outright terror took hold. It seemed painfully obvious to you now, away from the office and that lovely man, that it was all another twisted joke, something for the office beautiful people to laugh at during tomorrow's coffee breaks. Why did you say yes? Your wardrobe was woefully inadequate. It was years since you'd been out with a man; you were bound to make a fool of yourself, even if it wasn't a set-up.

At that thought your heart jumped and lurched. The possibility that Mr. Kim - no, Doyoung; this was a date not a business appointment - was sincere in his wish to take you out only heightened your confusion and indecision.

Finally, in desperation and the realisation that if you didn't decide soon, you'd still be in your underwear when he arrived; you chose a chanel-knee length cremé skirt and baby pink cashmere sweater, topped off with knee length boots. The heels were quite high, but you remembered him being tall, so that wouldn't be an issue, as long as you didn't fall over in them.

You were saved from an overcritical examination in the mirror. You had just completed applying your makeup when Doyoung arrived. You grabbed your coat and quickly walked out the door, before you had time to rethink and back out.

"You look lovely," Doyoung said, smiling down at you. Feeling the heat creeping up your cheeks; you weren't used to receiving compliments, particularly from someone like him. You mumbled a shy thanks as he helped you put on your coat and led you to his car.

Sitting in the car as he drove, you were able to study the mysterious man that is Kim Doyoung. He was extremely handsome, not in the classical sense, but he certainly was far from a plain looking man - a man at peace with himself. He knew who he was and was content with that; he knew what he wanted and how to get it; and what was beyond his capabilities and lost no sleep over it. He obviously managed quite well; his car was expensive but not too flashy.

The restaurant he took you too was a quiet small place, away from the standard eat-and-entertain strip. It was intimate without claustrophobia; the decor was elegant without being overbearing; the lighting low but not dim; the service attentive without being intrusive. The food you could not describe - later, you barely remembered what you had eaten beyond it being "nice" - your attention was totally taken by Doyoung.

He was gallant and charming; helping you with your coat and holding your chair for you at the intimate table for two tucked away in a corner. Doyoung quietly suggested items on the menu he thought you might like. It was obvious he'd been here before, was a regular, but usually without company. His choice of wine was perfect to go with the excellent food as you enjoyed each other's company.

And you talked.

You learned a lot about him. Doyoung was 34, older than you had thought; he had been engaged, but his fiancé decided to break off the engagement for simply falling out of love. He had had a series of short term relationships that had petered out and, for the past several years, had lived a solitary life, rarely going out with women. He didn't work as such; his livelihood came from investments, which explained him being a client of the company you worked in. Myungsoo may be a jerk, but he was the one of the best investment brokers around.

He had been attracted to you the first time he met you, a year ago, but had been intimidated by the evidence of all your admirers. When he realised it was all a cruel joke played by his adviser and the other brokers, he was mortified. He had seriously considered changing brokers, going to another organisation but that would have meant he had no chance of meeting you again. So he stayed. He had been in your office on three occasions since then, and each time had seen your quiet, unflappable charm and how your talent and lovely nature were either ignored or taken for granted by those around you. He was determined to gain your attention, but without the office cricus freaks being able to use it against you, hence the mystery flower delivery this morning.

You found yourself opening up to Doyoung. He seemed sincerely interested in hearing what you had to say, hanging on your every word. It was a liberating and wonderfully powerful feeling. You weren't used to being the centre of anyone's attention. You told him of your pride at the independence since the loss of your lover, all those years ago. You were happy in your little home, content with your work, rarely coming to the attention of the office jokers.

It was over coffee that you admitted to Doyoung something you haven't admitted to yourself: your life was lonely and you missed the affection of another person. You missed the companionship of sharing your life with someone.

Immediately after the words had left your lips you regretted them. You have given away too much of yourself, been too forward. You lowered your eyes, not wanting to see the closed expression you knew would be on his face, so you didn't see the fleeting look of pain, quickly followed by understanding and hope.

However, you did feel his hand close over yours and squeeze lightly. You looked up into a face of gentle eyes and soft smile. "Would you like to take a walk with me," he said quietly. "I think it's time we leave - they want to close the restaurant anyway."

You looked around yourself noticing that you two were the only people other than staff left in the restaurant, and many of the lights were dimmed. You gasped in wonder - you had no idea you've been there so long. "Yes, a walk would be lovely."

Doyoung ushered you along the street and across a small, neat park to a promenade along the riverbank. It was enough lit to feel safe and you walked along arm in arm. You felt his arm snake around your waist hugging you closer to him, and you snuggled against him, your arm around his back. The moon was up, the stars were out and the night was peaceful and clear.

Your heart was singing and your eyes sparkled. You've been right to take this gamble. He was sincere, and it was wonderful. But the night was late, and it was rather cold.

You shivered. Doyoung felt it immediately and turned off the promenade proposing to head back toward the street where he had left the car. "I'd better take you home. It wouldn't be much of a date if you ended up ill."

At your door, Doyoung formally thanked you for a lovely evening and asked if he could see you again. You smiled and surprised yourself only a little by reaching up and kissing him lightly on the lips before saying: "Would you like to come in for a nightcap?"

Doyoung blinked, looking mildly bemused for a moment before studying your face. "Are you sure?"

Oh, most definitely, you were sure. You have thought of nothing else since you two have left the river. He looked right, he felt right, and he smelt right. You wanted him but was sure he'd never make a move. He was too much of a gentleman to ever force the issue.

You took his hand and led him into your home, kicking the door closed with your foot, shutting out the rest of the world with its mean people and ugly attitudes. You reached up to kiss him again. This time he lowered his head to yours, cradling your face in his hands as he returned the kiss. The lips met and parted, allowing the tongues to join and caress each other. His hands moved down from your face to caress your body, yours moving up from his hips. Both of you parted, searching each other's faces for confirmation of your desires.

"I think we're on the same page," you said. "Why don't you leave your coat on the couch? Do you want the nightcap now, or after the tour?"

"I'll put a hold on the nightcap," Doyoung answered, reading the desire in your eyes and knowing it was mirrored in his while stripping off the coat.

"Right."

You took his hand again. "This is the lounge. There," you pointed to the right, "is the kitchen and dining room. This way," pulling him down the hall, "is the second bedroom, the bathroom and," dragging him through a doorway, "here is the main bedroom."

"Very nice," he said, looking around, trying not to focus on the bed.

Suddenly shy, you both looked at anything but each other, awkward in a lack of intimate knowledge of each other. Doyoung tentatively reached out a hand to you, aiming to caress your breast, veering off at the last moment to your shoulder, but still lightly brushing your breast with his fingertips. Your gasped breath emboldened him and he reached his other hand, caressing your other breast lightly as you shivered under his touch and sighed.

Your own hands went to his chest, running down the front of his shirt and back up, then beginning to undo the buttons, pulling the shirt from his trousers and teasing his bare skin with your fingers.

Doyoung pulled his shirt off and then raised the sweater over your head and off the arms, moving in to kiss you as his hands went around your back to undo the clasps of a bra and returned to cup your breasts. The sensation on your breasts as he caressed and pinched the nipples sent a sharp message straight between your legs. You could feel yourself becoming moist and shuddered under his touch; breath becoming uneven.

Pushing him away you removed the skirt, letting it pool at your feet while looking into his eyes. Doyoung took the hint and began unbuckling his belt, then grinned foolishly and sat beside you to take off his socks, sneaking kisses of your neck and shoulders as he did so. You both stood again, slightly apart. He dropped his trousers and you could see his briefs pushed out of shape by his erection, the fabric straining.

Doyoung stepped up, taking you in his arms, kissing down your neck and across the collarbone, his hands lowering to your hips, sliding under the elastic and beginning to tug your panties down. Your own hands flew to the top of his briefs. Together, you pulled down the underwear, stepping out of them and standing naked before each other. Again Doyoung moved first, holding you and gently pushing backwards onto the bed, following after you onto it.

He ran one hand down the body of yours, teasing and tickling the beginning of your womanhood and beyond, teasing you with his fingers, tickling across your mound and easing around your damp centre. You moaned as he explored, your hips twisting and twitching. It had been so long since another man had touched you there. It felt amazing, wonderful, but achingly short of what you needed. You could feel his hardness against your thigh. Reaching down, you took his cock into your hand. It was hot, hard and pulsed under your touch. Doyoung groaned and his hips jerked convulsively. You kissed him hard and whispered fiercely, "Please, it's been too long. I need you, now."

"For me too, far too long," Doyoung gasped back, rolling you onto your back and positioning himself before gently splitting your lips and sliding steadily but firmly into you. Your moans were prominent in the air as he stretched and filled you right, not stopping his steady thrust until he was wholly inside you, your warm walls gripping him tightly. Your eyes met and locked as you lay still, immersed in the feeling of each other's body.

Being warm, wet and a safe haven, you were engulfing his cock. Doyoung was filling you with his hard heat, owning your body completely. You fit each other perfectly; you could see it in each other's eyes. You belonged together.

As great as this feeling was, you needed more. Doyoung slowly withdrew, till only the very tip split you. Both groaning as he pushed back in, again slowly feeling each other with delectable inch. Slowly in and out, in and out, revelling in the feeling of each other's bodies, gradually building up speed as your need increased.

You could feel the fire building, the tension increasing as sensation on sensation smashed into you with each thrust, your body twitching, your hips writhing. Still it built; higher, tighter, fiercer. Your entire being was wrapped around Doyoung's cock as it pumped in and out of you. You could hear him grunting with each thrust, feel his body trembling as he got closer to his climax. His speed increased and you breath got caught in your throat, your back arched, legs went stiff as you began to twitch when the white light exploded through you, spreading warmth and scattering your senses.

You felt, from far away but deep within you, Doyoung losing his rhythm before coming, pumping wildly into you, grunting and thrusting hard one last time as he shot deep inside you feeling spent but overly fulfilled.

Your hand was making lazy circles on Doyoung's chest as you lay, curled against his side with a head on his shoulder. You weren't sure how you've come to be in this position, but it felt so right and he smelled so good.

You were at peace while drifting off to sleep.

Waking up without feeling body by your side, you immediately felt the loss. Doyoung wasn't there. Your heart dropped, the pit near your stomach threatened to open and engulf it. Sensing the tears coming up, you accidentally feel something on your side with a hand.

He wasn't there. But there was a note.

"I am so sorry. I hate to leave you, knowing you will wake alone. There is something I must do."

You had just finished reading when the phone rang, disturbing your thoughts. Grudgingly, you moved to answer it. "Hello."

"Wish I was still beside you."

Your heart flipped again. The pit dissolved so you could breathe again before whispering, "Doyoung."

"Y/N. Tell me, what are you planning for breakfast?"

"Uhm. Coffee? Maybe some toast. Why?"

"Don't move. I'm on my way. With breakfast. And it's better than toast."

You lay back in bed, listening to the dial tone after he hung up. Surprised, you smile softly. You must remember to thank Myungsoo for introducing them.

If this is how you will feel loved and feel free to love again, you have no complaints.

Your new chapter is about to begin and hopefully, it will last for a very long time with a man named Kim Doyoung.

[soft-october-night]

The Love Interests in the Works of Jane Austen: An Assessment

This is an "extremely scientific" and "thoroughly researched" ranking based on personality, money, family and connections, and is a bit of a blend between the book characterizations and the film characterizations (and is in no way only based on my own opinions). Here we go, grouped by book but not much else.

Edmund Bertram: absolute trash. His family has treated you unbelievably shitty since day one and not only has he BARELY noticed, he ALSO has treated you shitty. Will fall in love with someone beautiful and fun and when she dumps him will come crawling to you for a rebound. His passion for you is so lackluster that even the esteemed author who wrote about it barely spared a paragraph on your relationship. Has a job but only because his dad owns the land the church is built on. You’ll gain no connections or family by marrying him, since he’s literally your cousin.  0/10

Henry Crawford: There IS such thing as too much fun, and that is never clearer than in this man, who will try to seduce you as a game, freak out when his middling overtures don’t work and then try and seduce you “for really real” this time. You will definitely move up in the world if you marry him, and if you play your cards right it seems like his sister is also just REALLY into you, so see how that goes. Life will be pretty okay until you find him in bed with one (or more, who knows) of your relations. 3/10, 8/10 if you’re into that

John Willoughby: Will be like something out of a romance novel, you’re thinking he’s going to propose and then he just fucking ghosts you and embarrasses the fuck out of you at a party by acting like he doesn’t know you. Somehow marry him (congrats on the inheritance you must have, btw) and get ready to take a backseat to the whims of his aunt for as long as she lives. 1/10, at least you get to live in a nice house.

Edward Ferrars: Oh Edward. He’s a bit of a mess, isn’t he? Super kind, your family loves him, he made a bunch of stupid decisions in his youth that are coming back to bite him in the ass. He is loyal to an absolute fault, but you luck out when his fiance turns out to be a bit of a gold digger and dumps him when his mom disowns him. He doesn’t have a job and neither do you, but his family doesn’t wanna speak to him (lucky you!) and you’ll be happy and poor together if you two can work on your communication skills. 7/10.

Colonel Brandon: He’s got a nice house, the respect of his friends and the community, and he has a LOT of passion. He’ll give your sister’s penniless husband a job, dramatically rescue you from a rainstorm, make sure his dead girlfriend’s daughter is happy and taken care of even after your ex fucks HER over too, and is all around a pretty decent guy. Just. Uh. Maybe, kinda, sorta, needs to go after women his own age and is probably with you because you remind him of his dead girlfriend. 5/10 with the wildly inappropriate age gap, 9/10 without it.

Mr. Wickham: Please don’t. He’s a thirsty bitch who lives for drama and you think he’s fun until you find out he tried to sleep with one teenage girl and is making eyes at your fifteen year old sister behind your back. Marry him (through the grace of mysterious benefactors, cause he ain’t marrying anyone unless he’s paid the right price) and get ready for a life of being surrounded by military men in the north of England while your husband tries to fuck everything that moves. Work that out somehow with him and you might actually be happy. 0/10.

Mr. Bingley: He is a softboi who will do literally anything his friends tell him to do. He is SUPER rich, and marrying him will throw your sister’s into the path of other rich men and he is REALLY into you, but get ready to be sucking up to his sisters for literally the rest of your life. Unless he can ship Miss Bingley off to live with Mrs. Hurst, have fun trying to wage a war of barely concealed insults over the breakfast table every morning, and if you’re marrying Bingley I’m sorry but that is a war you just cannot win. He doesn’t have a job but he does have five thousand a year, and neither of you can manage money. You’ll love simply and deeply and be happy as any two can be. 8/10.

Mr. Collins: Last resort to rescue yourself from a life of being a burden to your parents until they die and then having to become a governess or something. Has a job but never shuts up about his boss. You will have to rearrange everything in your house according to his boss’ will. 2/10

Mr. Darcy: Is a anxious disaster who doesn’t know how to talk to girls at parties and needs to learn how say no to going out when he’s just not feeling it. He doesn’t have a job because he’s a landlord; he owns half of Derbyshire and has ten thousand a year, but turns out that all of that money and land can’t buy tact or charisma. Doesn’t know how to flirt and thinks he’s doing a great job (he’s not). He’ll propose to you out of the fucking blue one day by insulting literally everything about you, but don’t worry! Reading his letter unlocks Darcy 2.0. This patched version gives him humility, a personality, and he WILL gain the ability to rescue your family from utter ruin. Marry him and enjoy a life of luxury and witty ripostes, but beware! You ARE going to have to deal with Lady Catherine until the day she dies, not to mention Caroline Bingley’s barely concealed contempt every time you meet in polite company. Darcy 1.0 3/10, Darcy 2.0 8/10.

Captain Wentworth: Absolutely top tier. Has a job, has earned everything he has, including a fortune and the respect of his peers, superiors, and subordinates. His sister and her husband are practically the only happily older married couple you know, his friends are super fun and nice (even the dour one with all the poetry knows how to have a polite conversation). If you dumped him ten years ago on the advice of your almost comically shitty family yeah, he’s going to hold a grudge, but he WILL NEVER STOP LOVING YOU and the MOMENT he gets over his pride will do everything and anything in his power (including leaping the bounds of propriety!) to win you back. Based on his love, money, and connections you should RUN, not walk, into his arms TODAY and allow him to rescue you from your family and whisk you off to see the world on his ship, at least until Napoleon busts out of Elba. 12/10

Mr. Eliot: Will lose all your old schoolfriend’s husband’s money in a bad deal, has debts out the ass, might be trying to get with either you or the woman your dad has been flirting with for the last few years, you’re not sure. Is totally ruining the rekindling relationship you’re trying to get going with your far superior ex. He wants the land and title your dad has and will stop at nothing to get it. Marry him and you can move back into your old house (maybe? it’s a little unclear what with all the debts) but have every single cent your mother left you immediately put into some dumbass scheme. 1/10

Henry Tilney: another softboi who just wants to act in the school play while his dad and brother plan to ship him off to military school and berate him for not joining the football team. Bring him shopping with you to pick out dresses, spend long nights over tea chatting about books. Has a job, but again, only because his dad owns the land the church is on. Loves you even though you have some very strange ideas about his house, and will forgive you when he realizes you thought his dad either murdered or imprisoned his mom. If he can find the courage to tell his dad to fuck off and let him live his own life, expect a long, happy marriage of snuggling together in a window seat somewhere, sipping tea and reading. 9/10

John Thorpe: Trash bastard man. Peaked in whatever equivalent of high school he had. Shitty and rude to everyone, would post racist memes on facebook and start fights if he could, all while being shitty and manipulative and CREEPILY possessive of you. -2/10

Robert Martin: A sweet himbo farmer who just wants to love and worship you. He has a job, is pretty rich, and while his connections may not be above his class, he’s an earnest boy who wants to take care of you and be taken care of in turn. Marry him the first time, absolutely do NOT let your friend influence you against him, because who KNOWS if you will get a second proposal! (You will, he likes you THAT much.) Marry him and enjoy a sweet, simple life of exactly zero drama (unless your friend is around). 7/10

Mr. Elton: Trifling gold digging trash who doesn’t know what the word no means. Do not marry, unless you want to be censured by decent, hardworking people -1/10

Frank Churchill: Knows how to have fun, but you know there’s something more going on. He won’t let you see his letters, he sends out secret notes, then he smiles and tells you that everything is totally a okay. Another boy with ANOTHER overbearing aunt, only this one doesn’t know how to say no. Marry him if you’ve got the money, but he will always be longing after the poor girl next door that auntie wouldn’t let him married, and would have cheated on you already if she was into it. 3/10

Mr. Knightly: He’s your brother in law and you’ve known him almost your whole life, so that’s a little sus, but he is also the ONLY person in your entire life who knows how to tell you no (and you really, REALLY need to be told no sometimes.) He is extremely wealthy, but more importantly he’s kind and caring about people who are considered “beneath” him. He will break his weird no dancing rule to dance with your shy friend, he will ream you out for being shitty to unwed spinsters who value your opinion, and somehow has the correct read on everyone all the time. You will gain no connections by marrying him, since the two of you already have the exact same connections anyway, but the two of you should be content in a test of wills that will last a lifetime. You’ll be very happy as long as he doesn’t get super pedantic and start correcting you about everything. 7/10

[satans-left-asscheeky]

Three step programs to help get your favorite fallout companion to love you / become your little bitch

Part three.

Piper

Is your Piper finding it hard to enjoy her usual shenanigans? Is your Piper experiencing the a dreaded writers block and lack of motivation? Is your Piper struggling to balance working a full time job, travel with her trusty dusty Blue popsicle and be a big sibling/full time parent to her little sister? Has your Piper been in a withdrawal of sorts after spending an ungodly amount of time in the diamond City slammer thanks to the corrupt government run by the shiny freshly packaged life meddling fuckers known as the institute? Lucky for you this three step program will help get your Piper back to her nosy reporter kick-ass bad bitch self!

Step One: Mayor Mcdonough? more like mayor Mc-done-for! It must have taken the institute a long ass time to make not one, but two faces for him! Kill the fuck outta the cowardly double crossing pretentious douche bag!

Step Two: You wanna know what would help your Piper? No more late night abductions! take the fight to the institute by any means necessary.... (besides the BOS ofc)... Why tf do they even replace people? Probing? Dissection?....... news flash institute normal people have this thing called a heart! who tf knows why the creeps prey apon the people of the commonwealth. What your Piper does know is their gonna need an ass transplant once her foot is done with em.

Step Three: Okay so this might sound totally domestic (and less violent cuz damn that sounded like a bad psycho trip...) compared to the last two steps, but something that will totally help your Piper is.... A writers nook. Filled with real printing supplies. Old world novels, or even better creating new world novels with your Piper! One of the many things that historians claim makes a "civilization" is the production of unique works of literature (or something like that don't sue me if I'm wrong I'm quoting my freshman year history teacher and a bitch snoozed in that class) ... so technically, though a soft approach, your helping pave the pathway to a better future one line at a time.

(We can not be held responsible for any offensive news articles your Piper may write once she has her mojo back. If your Piper is experiencing an increased number of threats please contact your local Cait to open up a can of whoop ass)

Nick

Does your Nick have a case of depresso espresso that he just can't seem to solve? Is your Nick a melancholy mix of man and machine still trying to find his way in life after approximately 80 years of mixed experience? Is your Nick obsessing over fixing other people's problems to avoid his own? Is your Nick screwing his dang hand at the most inopportune times? (Like dude when a we're playing chicken with a super mutan suicider is not the time to screw your damn hand! Fucking Lydia had more tact than your ass) Luckily for you we have just the evidence you need to close the case on your weeping widow tin man!

Step one: Go on the annoyingly long hunt for all of Eddie Winters encrypted holotapes. Once every nook and cranny of every police station in massachusetts has been searched go kill the fuck out of that murdering bastard! You know what they say.... "If you can't fill the hole in your aching neon heart blow a hole in someone else's!"

Step two: Sarcasm galore! The more sassy the better! How can you be a saddy if your sassy? No but seriously witty remarks are your Nick's love language.

Step three: Generosity. Though it may be true the wastland will never be able to go back to the utopia it once was, but you and your Nick will be damned if you don't die trying to make the world a better place. If one small act of kindness is all your Nick is rembered for then he did well in life. Even if that means that act of kindness was giving Sheffield a damn nuka-cola.

(Okay so I'm not sure how I'm gonna be able to live with myself knowing that I'm the reason that this exist... Please forgive me for I shall never forgive myself.... okay but seriously why does the after look like my ex....) Ps I never noticed he had a cute chin dimple/dent before... I love it so much! He's so adorable.

Preston

Is your Preston still haunted by the series of unfortunate events that followed him from quincy to concord? Is your Preston suffering from survivers guilt and rain? Well have we got just the thing for you!

Step one: Find some way to control the weather! How can your Preston ever be sad if it's never raining?

Step two: Take your Preston on villager saving sprees! Rebuild the entire commonwealth.... it would be rude and inconsiderate of your Preston to even think about being happy when all those settlements still need your help.... what better way to remind your Preston of the good little sunshine boi he is than taking care of that settlement over there..... lemme mark it on your map for you!

Step three: Put a stop to all the meanies of the commonwealth.... Raiders demanding resources from settlers? gotta die. Super mutans eating settlers? gotta go. How can your Preston truly be happy if even a single living breathing soul in the commonwealth isn't? Your Preston has a big fat bleeding heart on his sleeve.... but hey the second you showed him any kind of human decency he clung onto you like a piece of raider stuck in a deathclaws teeth.

(We can not be held responsible for all the settlements that will be marked on your map.... But hey at least it's not raining.... babe!)

Hey so not gonna lie I could keep this in the draft and edit it for the rest of eternity, but at this point I think it's time to stop obsessing and post lol. Hope you enjoy or at least tolerate it like me!

Part 1

Part 2

[moldisgoodforyou]

bahamas (iv)

warning: everyone is drunk ! , sexual references

wordcount: 6k

_________

The next morning, Allie strolled out of the bedroom with a messy braid, a cheesy grin and a blush that started the second James began to whistle. Colin flipped him off immediately, still as sullen as the night before. “Nice of you to show up.”

“I was busy.” She retorted, then immediately shook her head. “Not like - I just showered.”

“Did loverboy join? What’s his name again?” James questioned, sliding Allie a full plate.

“Carloooooos.” Julia sang, laughing as Allie glared at her. “I saw him sneak out this morning. He said hello. Nice guy.”

“He said he had to get to his shift, he teaches scuba lessons during the day. If we’re interested he said he could snag us a discount.” Allie shrugged, popping a blueberry into her mouth.

“Does he teach underwater basket weaving too?” Colin asked dryly, scowling.

“Is that a real thing?” Rafe asked, looking like he was actually considering the activity for a moment.

Sophie glanced over at him, concerned. “Baby.”

“It’s not?”

Julia shook her head at the couple. “I thought we had a boat today?”

“We do. We’re going sailing.” Rafe confirmed, glancing at his watch. “We’ve got an hour, but we need to pack snacks and drinks. Colin, can you help me grab the cooler from the attic?”

“You can’t grab it yourself?” Colin grumbled, pushing away from the table to follow Rafe up.

“No. It’s too big.” Rafe glanced behind him, making sure they were out of earshot of the group as he led him up the stairs. “What the fuck is your problem?”

“My problem?” Colin repeated, immediately getting defensive. “What the fuck?”

“Yeah, you’re being a dick about Allie’s hookup. No one would say a word if you brought a girl home.” He coughed as he unlocked the attic door and a small layer of dust flew up, the house unused since the beginning of summer. “Actually, maybe you should get laid, you’ll chill out.”

“I don’t have a problem.”

“Then quit being an asshole to Allie. She doesn’t deserve that.”

Colin sighed, helping Rafe tug the Yeti cooler down from one of the shelves. Once it was down, he glanced over at Rafe. “I didn’t mean to be rude. Sorry.”

“Apologize to her, not me.” Rafe told him, looking Colin dead in the eye like he could figure out some hidden secret if he stared at him long enough.

“I will.”

“Good. Just because you’re jealous -”

“I’m not jealous, just don’t like this guy -”

“Ha!” Rafe pointed his finger in Colin’s face, eyebrows raised. “I knew it! You like Allie.”

Colin froze, immediately looking towards the door then lowered his voice. “You can’t tell.”

“Wait, shit, seriously? I was just trying to get a rise out of you...Colin. Seriously? You mean it?”

“The tiniest of crushes. She’s cute.” Colin affirmed, regretting telling him already. “Just - you can’t say anything.”

“I won’t. Brother swear.” Rafe nodded, extending his hand to Colin. “Don’t you dare fuck with her though.”

“I won’t, I won’t.” Colin paused, not taking his hand to shake. “That includes Sophie.”

“Fuck, Colin, for real? You know she doesn’t count.” Rafe whined, running his hand through his hair. “She’s gonna get it out of me. Somehow. She always knows when I’m hiding something.”

“I mean it.” Colin shook his head. “No Sophie. No James, and especially no Julia.”

“Damnit.” Rafe sighed, but grabbed Colin’s hand and shook it. “Fine. You’d better apologize and start making moves or shut the fuck up and let her do her thing, though. No judging.”

“I will, I promise.”

“Good.”

The door banged open, startling them both as James stood in the doorway. “Yo. You two can’t handle this thing?”

“No, we got it.” Rafe shook his head, lifting it easily on his own to haul downstairs. “They send you up here to check?”

“Yeah, Jules started asking questions about last night and Allie clearly didn’t want to gossip with me around, so Sophie sent me up here to get you guys.” James paused, thinking. “She muttered something about you probably getting stuck in some secret fancy passageway. You gonna tell her this house is your dad’s company house, not some family heirloom?”

“I’m pretty sure Sophie wants to know as little as possible about what my family owns. I think she cried for a solid hour on the first night here.” Rafe frowned, taking each step one at a time.

“You tell her about the deb thing yet?” James asked.

“Deb thing?” Colin echoed. “Sarah’s ball? What does Sophie have to do with that?”

“...No. I’m not sure. I think she’ll either agree or rip my head off, no in between.” Rafe sighed. “Sarah’s getting presented at the debutante ball in the spring, Rose suggested Sophie gets presented as well with me as her escort, and somehow my dad thought that was a good idea. Establish her with high society, or whatever. I don’t think he’s forgiven me for breaking up with Brooklyn a week before her deb ball. Apparently me being her escort would have been good for us. Our family.”

James cocked his head. “She broke up with you.”

“Whatever.”

“Huh. Well. That conversation should be fun for you.” Colin patted Rafe on the shoulder just as they got down the attic stairs. Rafe now sported a thin layer of sweat from hauling the cooler down alone, despite him already having no shirt on.

“Oh yeah. Looking forward to it.” Rafe deadpanned, then put on a grin as they all re-entered the kitchen. He didn’t miss the way Sophie’s eyes trailed over his exposed chest, the way she leaned forward on the counter and bit her lip a little. “Found it!”

“Excellent.” Julia clapped her hands together and began filling it with a selection of drinks she’d laid out on the counter. “Sophie, stop eye-fucking your boyfriend and help me out.”

Sophie snapped to attention as Rafe held back a laugh at Julia’s lack of tact. “I wasn’t -”

“Yes you were. Drinks.”

Sophie shook her head, handing Julia drinks with a rising blush on her cheeks.

“I don’t mind, sweetheart.” Rafe murmured to her lowly with a grin, trailing his hand down her spine ‘til he rested his palm on her lower back.

“Ew, we just ate.” Allie complained, pushing her plate away from her. “Thank you for pancakes, though.”

“No problem. It’s my specialty.” Rafe beamed, gathering up the plates and sticking them in the dishwasher.

“Only ‘cause you can’t cook anything else.” Colin pointed out, dodging as Rafe aimed a square punch at his arm.

“He’s not wrong.” Sophie agreed, reaching up to kiss Rafe’s cheek.

“Aw. Thanks for breakfast, Mom and Dad.” James grinned, patting them both on the head.

Sophie whirled on James immediately, only held back by Rafe slipping his arm around her waist (more to protect James than her). “Stop. I mean it.”

“What are you gonna do?” James taunted, grinning. “Hit me? Rafe won’t let you.”

“I will, if you don’t shut up.” Rafe replied, shaking his head imperceptibly behind Sophie’s back.

“What? You weren’t pregnant, it was just the flu - hey!” James took off running the second Rafe let Sophie go, who immediately sprinted after him through the house.

“Fuck off, James!” She yelled, chasing him down the hall.

“I didn’t mean it!” He yelped as she threw someone’s flip flop at him, nailing him in the shoulder with surprising aim. “I’m sorry! Rafe! Help me!”

Everyone else watched from the kitchen, thoroughly entertained. “You gonna help?” Allie asked, glancing at Rafe.

“Nah. He deserves it.” Rafe shrugged. “They’ll get tired soon enough.”

“She only likes fighting when she’s flirting anyways.” Julia added. “I swear all your arguments before you two were dating was just foreplay.”

“Doubt it. She could be pretty mean.” Rafe grinned at Sophie fondly as she strolled back into the kitchen with a triumphant smile, then looped his arm around her shoulders and pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

“Who’s mean?” Sophie asked.

“You.” James informed her as he followed her back to the group, dramatically rubbing a red mark on his shoulder.

“Okay, both of you, knock it off.” Rafe took charge like always, glancing at his watch. “Everyone go get ready, we’re getting picked up in twenty to get to the dock. Don’t forget sunscreen.”

“You really make it too easy.” Julia rolled her eyes, but chose to refrain from calling him Dad again for the fourth time that morning.

“So everyone knows?” Sophie asked the group, frowning.

“For the record, I was team baby. I think you guys would have very cute kids.” James said, already flinching away as Sophie lifted her hand toward him.

“Yeah. Rafe accidentally let it slip when I asked why you looked like hell that weekend.” Colin confirmed. Sophie had stayed at Rafe’s instead of her house so he could take care of her, and Colin had found her sleeping on the bathroom floor curled up in a ball at 2pm when Rafe was in class. (He decided not to wake her up, thinking she was just wildly hungover, and had texted Rafe a photo instead.)

“Great. Fantastic. But if one more person calls me Mom this week, I’m going to rip your heads off.”

“I told you you’re mean.” James grumbled, clutching his shoulder. “I’m gonna have a bruise. How am I supposed to explain that to whoever I’m hooking up with tonight?”

“Tell her you’re into pain.” Allie suggested, shrugging when everyone gave her a look. “What? It could work.”

“...Alright. Everyone go get ready, I don’t want to hear another word from anyone about their sex lives.” Rafe instructed, shooing everyone out of the kitchen as he and Sophie made it toward their room. “Sorry, baby.”

“It’s fine. I’d be more upset if we actually had a kid on the way.” Sophie conceded with a shudder at the thought. “How much did you talk about it with the boys?”

Rafe thought about it, about how James kept going on and on about how he wanted to be a godfather and how their kids would be adorable, and how Colin said he wasn’t really a huge fan of kids but obviously their kid would be family. He thought about how he shared with the guys how nice it would be to have a big family and know their kids would have several metaphorical aunts and uncles, and how much love and support they’d be surrounded by. It made him excited for the future - the far future, of course, but still.

“Not much.” He finally settled on answering, giving her a small smile. “You gonna wear my favorite suit today?”

“The pink one?”

“No, the blue one with the daisies. The one you wore in Nice?” He grinned. “Or, I guess, didn’t wear?”

She blushed, shaking her head. “I think that one’s dangerous to wear around you with our friends.”

“Any bikini is, sweetheart.”

“Control yourself.” She flicked his shoulder in warning. “I have a surprise for you tonight. Don’t let me forget.”

He perked up immediately, smirking. “A surprise? What kind of surprise?”

Sophie just shrugged. “You’ll see.”

“I’ll see...is it a leave-the-bar-early kind of a surprise? A need-the-house-empty kind of surprise?” He asked eagerly, his smirk broadening as she pulled out the light blue bikini from her suitcase.

She laughed, pulling off her shirt before she fumbled with untangling the bikini strings. “I think you can stay quiet enough that we’ll be fine.”

“Will you be able to stay quiet?” He teased, beaming in appreciation as she stood there shirtless in front of him, tongue in between her teeth as she concentrated on fixing the bikini. (He didn’t bother to help.)

Sophie ignored him, rolling her eyes, but glanced up and caught him staring. “Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

“Don’t tempt me, you know I will.” He shot back. “I know you brought your film camera I got you for Christmas.”

“The last person I want seeing my nudes is the freshman art student that develops my film in the photo studio on campus.” She replied with an eyeroll. “Though I’m sure he’d enjoy it.”

Rafe’s face dropped as he immediately grew protective, grabbing the bikini top away from her and deftly untangled the strings. “Get dressed. We’re gonna be late.”

“Okay, Daddy.” She replied innocently, biting the inside of her cheek to hide back a grin.

He paused, considering, then shook his head. “No. Sorry, no, can’t vibe with that. Find a different kink please.”

She burst out laughing, shaking her head. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, James paid me $10 to tell you that.”

Rafe huffed, tugging on his swim trunks and shoved his feet back into his boat shoes, then promptly slammed open the door, striding back to the group. “James! Fuck you!”

________

Later, once everyone gathered their things and made it down to the dock after their driver for the week picked them up, the boat driver helped them all onto the boat, offering his hand. He was younger, around their age or a little bit older, and Rafe scowled as the driver’s eyes lingered maybe a little too long on Sophie’s bikini top. Then the driver politely leaned over to Rafe to inform him that Sophie had the tag sticking out of her top, hanging on by a thread, and he dropped his scowl quicker than it had appeared.

It only took them twenty minutes before they cracked into the cooler, everyone satisfied with a drink in hand, and two failed attempts to go head-to-head in a shotgun contest with James left Sophie drunk within the hour. She had her sunglasses perched askew on her nose, eyes closed as she rested her head in Rafe’s lap, lying down on the seat next to him.

“This trip is good for you. I think this is the most relaxed I’ve seen you all year.” Julia commented, snapping a quick photo of the couple.

“I do feel very relaxed.” Sophie hummed, taking Rafe’s hand and starting to play with his fingers. “Hm. Relaxed. Relaxation. That’s nice.”

“You’re hammered.” Rafe pointed out, but looked down on her fondly. “I want you to eat soon.”

“Snacks.” She affirmed. “You’ll have to feed me. I’m not sure my jaw works anymore.”

James giggled, more tipsy than anything, but still lacked any filter. “Better for dick sucking.”

“Hey.” Rafe warned. “Watch your mouth.”

“Sorry. Just came out.” James shrugged, having zero remorse. “Can we go swimming? I wanna see dolphins. Do they have dolphins here?”

“Some dolphins. I’ll take you.” Their driver interjected, changing direction of their boat.

“Dolphins can travel up to 80 miles a day,” Allie informed them, confused when she got weird looks from the groups. “What? I’m from Florida, I wanted to be a dolphin trainer growing up. Everyone did.”

“Aw. You would have been good at that, Al.” Julia told her, topping off her drink. “Sophie, no sleeping.”

“M’ not sleeping.”

“No drunk napping.”

“M’ not drunk.”

“Well now you’re just lying.” Rafe told her with a smile, gently nudging her up. “C’mon, I need you to drink water for me. Have some snacks.”

“Here, Sophie.” Colin waved the bag of Sun Chips under her nose, grinning. “Try some. Yummy.”

She batted it away, frowning as she leaned back into Rafe. “Everyone leave me alone.”

He pushed her back upright immediately, ignoring her frown, and pressed a water bottle to her lips. “Drink.”

“Do the thing.” She lowered her voice, challenging him with a smirk.

“Sweetheart, I’m not gonna -”

“Then I’m not drinking.”

He sighed, resigned. “Drink water or I’m not letting you go out tonight.”

“Let me? You don’t let me do anything.” She argued, grabbing the water bottle away and took a long drink.

Rafe just nodded, clearly not in the mood for a fight. He knew Sophie was in charge of the relationship, but the second he said he wasn’t comfortable with something, she listened right away. “Okay. Sure.”

“Trouble in paradise,” James sing-songed, only to receive a glare from Sophie.

“You’re still on my hit list.”

“Me? What did I do?”

“You and Julia are on it.”

Julia sighed, glancing over. “You’re really still hung up on that?”

Sophie sat up a little more, her eyes lighting up, and Rafe braced for an argument. “I told you no -”

“And we’re both grown adults, Soph, we can make our own decisions -”

“You don’t even like him -”

“Ouch.” James mumbled, shrinking back into his seat as if he couldn’t be seen.

“Hey!” Allie clapped, standing and putting herself in between the girls. “Both of you, let it go. We’re not doing this again. Julia, drink more. Sophie, no more drinking.”

“But -”

“No.” She crossed her arms, staring them both down until they sighed, mumbling apologies. “Thank you.”

The boys all watched in silence, impressed, until Colin spoke up. “Right, well, I’m gonna go swim.” He and James nodded, jumping off the back of the boat, and Allie and Julia took a second but followed suit.

Sophie moved to join in until Rafe grabbed her around the waist, protective as he pulled her onto his lap. “Hey. You okay?”

“Yes. I feel good.” She promised, but couldn’t fully meet his gaze and was swaying with the rocking of the boat. “Can we go swim?”

“Will you wear a life jacket?”

“That’s embarrassing.”

“It’ll be more embarrassing if you drown.” He pushed her hair back, out of her face, and kissed her forehead. “You’re way too drunk right now, you’re making me nervous.”

She frowned, placing her hand on his cheek. “I make you nervous?”

“No, I’m just worried something’s gonna happen. Life jacket? Please?” He pulled it from under the seat, offering it to her.

Sophie rolled her eyes but let him put it on, strapping it tight across her chest for good measure. “Now can we go?”

He scooped her up with a grin and stood on the seat, ready to jump. “Now we can go.”

“No, Rafe - wait no!” She screamed, grabbing around his neck as he jumped into the water with her in his arms, plunging down and letting her go to float back up.

James snorted, splashing water toward her. “Nice life jacket.”

“I’d like a life jacket.” Allie interjected, closing her eyes and floating on her back. “Wouldn’t have to do any work.”

“Hold on - Allie, are you high?” Colin questioned, swimming closer and poking her arm. She’d only had half of a drink since they were on the boat, but was still acting strange and zoned out the whole day.

“Carlos gave me an edible. I ate it before we got on the boat.” She mumbled in reply. “I have more if you want it.”

“You took sketchy drugs from a sketchy guy?!” Colin exclaimed, much louder than necessary.

Rafe swam over with a frown, shaking his head like a dog. “Who’s taking drugs?”

“The bartender -”

“Carlos.” Allie corrected.

“The bartender gave Allie drugs.” Colin cut her off. “And now she’s high and probably something else.”

Rafe cocked his head, looking over Allie. “Al? You good?”

“I feel nice.” She replied, moving to tread water and smiled at them. “So nice.”

“Jesus Christ.” Colin cursed, while Rafe kicked him under the water.

Julia swam over, tugging Sophie’s hand to drag her along. “Oh, it’s finally kicking in?”

“You knew?” Rafe questioned, pulling Sophie into his arms as she tried to be subtle and unclip the life jacket.

“Of course I knew.” Julia replied. “Don’t freak out, I looked at it, it’s fine.”

“Oh, you looked at it, great. Thanks, Julia, I didn’t know you were the resident expert on drugs.” Colin huffed.

“Just weed, actually, I haven’t done anything else -”

James seemed to finally realize the whole group was congregated instead of doing their own thing, like he was. He swam under the water, grabbing Rafe’s ankle - who immediately screamed like a child and kicked James in the face. James bobbed up straightaway with his hand clapped to his nose and blood trickling from it like a leaky faucet. “What the fuck?!”

“Why’d you grab me?!” Rafe defended, letting go of Sophie. “This is on you.”

James launched himself onto Rafe, grabbing at him, and the two promptly started wrestling in the water, despite everyone’s protests. Colin stuck his arm in between them to break them up after a few minutes, tugging Rafe off of James and being careful not to hit James’ nose again. “Hey! Hey. Everyone back on the boat.”

“C’mon, Colin.” James argued, but hauled himself back up onto the boat anyways when Colin tapped his watch and reminded them all of their dinner reservations.

Once they all clambered back onto the boat and James had a towel and a can of beer pressed to his nose, the boat driver started taking them back to the shore. Sophie had sobered up somewhat and Allie was asleep with her head in Julia’s lap, with Julia absent-mindedly stroking her hair. “Hey, Rafe? Do you have any good recs for somewhere we could go for dinner?”

Rafe furrowed his brow, confused. “We’re going to dinner tonight, what do you mean?”

“No, no, tomorrow. I was thinking it could be just the girls, you guys could do something else -”

“No.” He replied, firm. “None of you are going anywhere alone. I don’t trust any of you when you’re drinking.”

Allie stirred, finally opening her eyes as she’d been listening in on the conversation. “We could invite Carlos to chaperone,” she mumbled.

“Yeah, I’m sure he’d love to tag along. Drag you into some trafficking ring too.” Colin grumbled.

James pulled the towel away from his face, confused. “So that’s a no to guy’s night?”

“No one is splitting up.” Rafe insisted, firm, and reached over to press the towel back to James’ nose.

Sophie cocked her head at her boyfriend. “Where is this coming from?”

“Look, I don’t even let Sarah go out alone here, and we’ve been coming here for years, she knows this place like the back of her hand. I don’t want something to happen to you guys.” He slung his arm around Sophie’s shoulders, pulling her close. “Any of you. I mean it.”

“Man, even my own father isn’t this protective.” Julia remarked casually, then immediately regretted it upon seeing Rafe’s wince. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine. But that’s final say.”

“Okay, got it.” Julia raised her hands in defense. “So. Back to Carlos. Do you think he’d get all of us drugs if we had a threesome with him?” She suggested, only for everyone to stare blankly at her. “Oh my god, I’m just asking. It’s not like I suggested meth.”

“Who’s in the threesome?” James questioned, cocking his head.

Julia ignored him, barreling on. “That’s, like, an appropriate thing to ask, right? It feels like an island vibe. He’s gotta know where to get something.”

“Something.” Rafe repeated.

“Yeah.” She directed her question back toward him. “Hypothetically, if he could get us coke, would you say no? That’s like a rich person drug.”

“Rafe hasn’t done coke.” Sophie interrupted, assuredly, then frowned as Rafe seemed contemplative. “Right?”

“...No. Had to think. Been in the room, though, so probably got something secondhand.”

“That’s literally not how coke works.” Julia dismissed.

“I wouldn’t. I’m pretty sure that ruins the lining of your nose.” James supplied helpfully - Julia nodded in agreement, considering this newfound information.

“I’d consider doing molly.” Colin added. “But not from him.”

“Oh, like that makes a difference.” Allie deadpanned, always quick with the comeback while the rest of the group registered their surprise, because - Colin? Drugs? Two words that didn’t go together.

“It does, actually, but I get drug tested at NASA every single week, so.” Colin shrugged. “Not worth losing my future job.”

“Right. No one answered my question.” Julia sighed. “I’m open to a threesome with Allie or James. Rafe and Sophie, you’re out. Colin, I -”

“Yeah. Agreed.” Colin nodded, then hurriedly added, “I’m not saying I’m down for a threesome -”

“Hold on, why are we out?” Sophie frowned. “We’re hot.”

“Neither of you would share. It wouldn’t be fun.” James pointed out, only for Julia to nod enthusiastically in agreement.

“Exactly. You two are too, like, in love or whatever. It’s sick.”

“We would be great in a threesome.” Sophie argued, crossing her arms.

“You are too damn competitive.” Rafe mumbled to himself, shaking his head. “No one is having a threesome, no one is doing drugs. Not until we’re back under American laws. I’m not bailing anyone out of jail here.”

“Boo, Dad.” James grumbled, making Sophie lean toward him and raise her hand.

“James -”

“Okay, Sophie, chill, you can be the only one to call him Daddy -”

“Oh god, gross -”

“Home again!” Their driver announced with a grin, bumping the boat a little against the dock. The group snapped to attention, with James and Colin grabbing the coolers and Rafe helping the girls off the boat. He clapped the driver on the back as he was last to get off, murmuring something in his ear and slipped a wad of cash into his hand.

_____

After dinner, the group was dropped back at the house with the same driver they’d had all week, who now knew them all by name and knew way too much gossip about each of them. He knew that Rafe always sat in the front, the girls crammed into the back and James and Colin shared the middle, unless the girls were too drunk to crawl all the way back safely, and the boys would trade. They were all tired from a long day in the sun and agreed to call it with a lowkey night back at the house.

Once they’d all changed into comfier clothes, rather than how they dressed up for dinner, they congregated in the living room, sprawled out on the couches.

“All right, games. I have...uh…” Rafe rifled through the cabinet under the television, coming up short with only a deck of cards. “There’s just this and a poker set. We didn’t exactly play family games growing up.”

“That’s alright. We can play B.S.” Julia concluded, clapping her hands together with a grin.

“Last time we played B.S. it ended in a screaming match, and you and Colin didn’t talk for a week.” Allie reminded her, wary. Drunken card games in their group usually resulted in made-up rules that were only kept on track if someone wrote down the rules to lock down any possible room for arguments.

James and Sophie returned from the kitchen with two bottles of Sprite, two bottles of lemonade, a handle of vodka and six shot glasses. “Okay! Ready!”

“What the - guys, I said a chill game night.” Rafe raised his eyebrows as Sophie passed out the shot glasses.

“Yeah, we decided it’s our only senior spring break so we want to enjoy it.” Sophie told him, smacking a kiss to his cheek. “We’re playing B.S? Whose rules?”

“Normal rules, for the first round. Second round everyone adds a rule as you get away with bullshit.” Julia declared, shuffling and dealing the cards out to everyone with a surprising amount of skill. “Next birthday goes first, and if you don’t get away with it you have to take a shot. Or chug your drink for five seconds?”

“That’s me. And player’s choice, I think.” Sophie decided, sitting up and angling her cards away from everyone, looking a little too contemplative. She placed her card down, and Colin immediately shook his head. “Bull.”

“Nuh uh.”

“Take the shot, Sophie.” Colin insisted, flipping her card to reveal a jack instead of the needed 2.

“Fuck.” She muttered, following suit.

Rafe shoved her cup of water closer to her before she could pour herself a vodka lemonade instead, shaking his head. “You’re not even sober right now. Finish this first.”

“It’s alright, I’m fine.” She waved him off. “You’re next.”

The game continued on, escalating dramatically as they kept playing. By the time the first big bullshit was called, Allie had to accept at least 30 cards, the group had all taken at least one shot, Julia had been banished to the corner for a whole round, James was wearing Julia’s pink sunglasses upside down and Rafe had made out with Sophie three times, due to a rule he’d made up.

“Total bullshit.” Allie giggled as James placed five cards down at once on top of a huge stack. She was rivaling Sophie for drunkest of the group by far, slumped on the couch with her arms wrapped around one of the pillows as she wore a happy grin.

“Is not.”

“Is too!”

“Challenge!” Julia exclaimed, setting up two cups at the end of the table and handed them each a ping pong ball. (No one was sure when this was added to the rules, but everyone accepted it easily.) “Ladies and gentlemen, please stand.”

The two stood and took each other’s hands, laughing as they followed the customary pre-pong rule of spinning each other three times before taking their aim. “That was four! That was four.” Allie protested, having to grab James’ arm for balance as the room spun behind her eyes. “You need an extra spin.”

“Wait, dude, you put five down.” Colin pointed out, cocking his head. “Fucking idiot, take the cards.”

“Julia said challenge!”

“But you cheated!”

“The whole point of the game is cheating, dumbass!” James retorted, shaking his head. “She said challenge!”

“I said challenge!” Julia cried out, tapping her shot glass against the glass table to regain order. “Now throw.”

Both of them missed their mark terribly, James’ ball falling short and Allie accidentally nailing Rafe in the forehead with hers. “Sorry! Shit, sorry!”

“Oh, no, baby, are you okay?” Sophie asked worriedly, smoothing her hand over Rafe’s forehead as she combed through his hair with her fingers.

“I’m fine. I’m not sober.” He replied, humming with a smile as he leaned into her touch.

Everyone stared at the two of them with grins as they realized Rafe’s mistake in his own rule that he’d made up. The couple took too long to realize, slowly glancing around at the group. “What?” Sophie asked, sitting up straight. “What happened?”

“James missed the shot.” Colin grinned at Rafe, way too smug. “Pucker up.”

Rafe’s face dropped as it clicked for him - he’d made up the rule that a missed shot from falling short meant that person had to make out with the player who’d gone before for at least two minutes. It was a carefully calculated rule, he’d played pong with everyone in the group countless times and knew that everyone besides Sophie tended to overshoot, almost every single time.

Almost.

James laughed at Rafe’s expression, crooking a finger toward him. “Come here, buddy. Do you want me to get chapstick? Soph, do you have chapstick?”

“Do I have to?” Rafe groaned, standing up and striding over to sit next to James on the couch.

“It’s your rule.” Julia pointed out. Sophie shrugged in agreement, not quite putting together all the pieces.

“I’m really honored to be doing this with you, seriously.” James joked. “Sophie, can I touch him?”

“Just the head.”

Julia snorted, and she and James exchanged equally delighted grins at Sophie’s accidental innuendo.

Colin pulled up the timer on his phone, flashing it toward them. “Okay...alright. Whenever you’re ready.”

“Fucking hell.” Rafe sighed, but leaned in to make the first move, eager to get it over with. Both of them had their eyes closed and the kiss was relatively tame, albeit impossibly long.

“Oh.” Sophie murmured quietly, unsure how she felt, but uttered a warning “hey” when James’ hand automatically went to Rafe’s face. She decided she felt mainly neutral about it, but would be a lot more neutral if it was James and Colin kissing instead.

Julia was quiet for the first time all night, unable to tear her eyes away as she watched. Allie couldn’t resist a quick photo but giggled, hiding her face in Colin’s shoulder.

“Hey. Hey! Hey!” Sophie yelled the second the timer went off, leaning over and grabbing at Rafe’s arm to tear him away. “No more.”

James had his eyes closed and had unconsciously chased Rafe’s lips with his as they were pulled apart, but made a show of wiping his mouth afterward. “Okay. Well. Mark that under something I thought I’d never do.”

“And you’ll never do it again, so I hope you enjoyed it.” Sophie scowled, wrapping her arms around Rafe from behind and pulled him back to lean against her chest. “Stupid fucking rule, Rafe.”

“Sorry. Wasn’t thinking.” Rafe laughed, clearly unbothered as he tilted his head to press a short kiss to Sophie’s neck.

She grasped his head in both her hands, leaning down to press a sound kiss to his lips, as if it was a mark of ownership. “There. No one kiss my boyfriend again, I’m getting more snacks.” Sophie declared, getting up and heading into the kitchen.

“I don’t know about y’all, but I’m lowkey horny right now.” Julia muttered much louder than she intended.

“Thanks for sharing, Jules.” Allie laughed.

Julia glanced toward James with a desperate look, pressing her legs together. “Are we done playing? Or do you guys want to keep going?”

Oblivious as always, James shrugged, unfazed, moving back to his seat beside Julia. “Whatever you want. I’m down to keep playing.”

“Fuck, I need to get laid.” Julia mumbled much quieter so only he could hear, and he straightened up immediately like a bolt of lightning had shot up his spine.

“Actually, I’m good. Tired, actually. Yeah. I’m gonna - yeah.” He stood, offering his hand to Julia. “You look tired too.”

“Guys.” Rafe warned, glancing toward the kitchen where Sophie was still raiding the cabinet for any leftover snacks.

“Night, y’all.” Julia grinned, ignoring Rafe’s warning as the two strode off hand in hand to Julia’s room, making sure to go around so Sophie wouldn’t catch them.

Rafe sighed, but bit back a smile as he saw a dirty text pop up from Sophie, with a very detailed idea of how they could use up the rest of the whipped cream in the fridge. “Alright. Night, guys.” He promptly got up and left, leaving Colin and Allie alone.

“And then there were two.” The tension hung thick in the air as Allie leaned on Colin, giggly. “Fuck, I am so drunk.”

“Yeah?” He didn’t dare move, especially as she took his arm into her lap and started tracing lines as she connected freckles on his skin.

“I think I’m gonna call the bartender.”

“No you’re not.” Colin frowned, shaking his head. “No. You need sleep.”

She yawned, blinking up at him. “I’m pretty sure my room’s occupied.”

“You can take my bed.” He offered immediately, resisting the weird urge to tuck a stray piece of hair behind her ear. “It’s fine.”

“Where are you gonna sleep?” She asked, reaching up and tracing her finger along his cheekbone. “Your eyes are pretty, did you know that? You have a freckle in your right eye.”

“A freckle?” He smiled. “I’m not sure that’s right.”

“It is.” She insisted. “I can go in your bed?”

“Yeah, I’ll take the couch.”

“Okay.” She agreed right away, hauling herself up. “I gotta brush my teeth.”

“Good thing your bathroom’s shared with mine.” Colin reminded her, following her down the hallway. “Unless you really want to go into your room while...that’s going on.”

“No, thank you.” She shook her head quickly, stretching and nearly smacking him in the face. “Sorry! Sorry.”

“It’s alright, just be careful.” He laughed, ushering her into the bathroom. “Do your thing, I’ll fix my bed.”

They’d all changed into comfortable clothes and showered before playing the game, anticipating intoxication, but Colin still wished he had a reason to offer her something of his to wear to bed. He re-made his bed, even fluffing the pillow, before tugging on a hoodie.

Allie returned a few minutes later, giving him a grateful smile. “Thanks, Colin.” She touched his arm as she passed, crawling into bed.

“Of course. No problem. Yell if you need something, yeah?” He told her, smiling back before leaving and turning out the light, resigned to a night on the couch.

taglist: @drewstarkey @lemur46 @jjmaybanksbaby @edgeofgr8 @quxxnxfhxll @obxtess @hoodpankow @vtgirl802 @outerbankies @messagesinthesky @nicolecarsley @svechnikolan @ilovejjmaybank @obxtess @abbyj1822 @oopsiedoopsie23 @g4bster @jjmaybankzz @freddymaybank @dontjinx-it @illbesafeforyou @moniamaybank @tovvaa @jailcalledlife @sunshineitsfine44 @randomficsandshit @outerbankspreferences @outerbanksbro @karsinner @kkmaybank @whoeveniskendall @lemur46 @outerbankies

[bigskydreaming]

Doing some writing today off and on between errands and work, and jumping around various Kings of the Sky installments, specifically Dick, Jason and Cass stuff, so probably gonna post snippets from a bunch of them as I go. 

(Kings of the Sky is an AU that goes canon divergent from the point of Jason calling Dick for advice for dealing with Bruce after the Garzonas case and where things end up going dramatically different from that point on. Including Jason not dying, being part of his own lineup of Titans between Dick and Tim’s, Dick being adopted not long after the Church of Blood incident, Cass being the third Wayne kid to be taken in and adopted and with Tim and Duke being next and then Damian coming along later once they find out about him. This is basically my ‘the family’s alright’ AU with largely ‘Good Dad Bruce’ except for Dick and then Jason yelling some sense into him about the other, respectively, in the first two installments, just FYI).

Anyway, this bit is from a story called “In Their Shadows Grow Trees Of Good and Evil,” set about a year after Cass has been adopted, when she and Jason are both sixteen and Dick’s twenty-one. Also just FYI, because canon has never been specific about what ways Cass is neurodivergent due to the comic-book style ‘rewiring’ of her brain so that she could learn to speak later in life, I tend to go with her being dyslexic and having aphasia. She sticks exclusively to sign language and being a silent presence in her costumed personas, so that there’s no chance of people connecting the dots between Black Bat and Cassandra Wayne, as she mostly speaks verbally in her civilian persona and doesn’t hide her aphasia. The reason there’s not likely to be any obvious signs of aphasia in the snippets of her I post is because I wait until I complete something to choose words at random to replace with aphasia-born mixups, so its more realistic and I’m not gearing her dialogue towards deliberately placed moments. Just in case you were wondering.

In Their Shadows Grow Trees of Good and Evil

“Hey Todd,” sneered an exquisitely obnoxious voice. “Why’s your sister so fucking weird?”

Jason sighed the sigh of a soul a mere century into its eternity of damnation as he rose from the lunch table he’d been studying at and crammed the rest of his books into his backpack. Then he pasted a cheerfully bland smile on his face and turned around, geared for academia warfare (teenage prep school edition).

“Hey Craig,” he said brightly. “Why’d you come out of the womb so ugly your parents had to tie a piece of steak around your neck just to get the family dog to go near you? Mysteries abound.”

The advancing junior slowed a step, momentarily rocked by his truly impressive return volley. The grimace Craig’s already gargoyle-esque features twisted into made his face even more unpleasant to look at than usual, which was quite the feat. Jason would have applauded if just looking at it hadn’t already turned him to stone.

But the bargain basement basilisk kept on towards him rather than turn tail and skulk off to pop his emotional blisters, so Jason sighed a sequel to his first one. Looked like it was one of those days where Craig felt up to powering through. Guess someone had eaten their self-esteem Wheaties that morning. Joy.

“You think you’re pretty hot shit, don’t you, Todd?”

Jason shrugged. “I mean, to be honest I kinda have a one track mind, so right now I’m mostly just thinking about punching you in your mistake.”

“My what?”

“Your face,” Jason elaborated with exaggerated patience.

“Huh?”

“Oh my god, I’m saying your face is a mistake. See, its not as fun when I have to stop and explain it to you. Ugh, you ruin everything.”

He neatly sidestepped the older boy as R2-Dumbass stayed frozen, smoke coming off of his internal CPU while trying to catch up. For a second Jason thought he was home free, but then he remembered the universe fucking hated him so haha, sucks to suck. Also, a small crowd had gathered to witness the verbal jousting match, and nothing invigorated an asshole like Craig more than an audience of like-minded peers. So there was that too.

“Whatever. Laugh it up all you want, you little shit,” the junior rallied. “But just remember, mocking your betters will never change the fact that you were born street trash and you’ll be street trash until the day you die.”

Honestly? Not his best effort. Jason almost felt bad using any of his good material. Seemed like overkill at this point. But he did have a strict Scorched Earth policy to maintain, so.....

“Yeah but my dad could buy out and ruin your dad so that means I still win, right?”

He smirked as the barb landed and Craig’s face set into a sunset vista of strangled purple and furious red. Bam. Direct hit.

“Listen, you - “

“Oh for fuck’s sake, it was rhetorical,” Jason interrupted. “I don’t actually care what you think even a little bit. Nobody does. You don’t matter. Please go be irrelevant elsewhere, you’re fucking dismissed, you loser.”

“Speak for yourself, charity case.” Oh goodie, Craig’s backup singers had finally arrived. Now if only he could remember to care enough to learn their names in the first place. Seriously, who told the extras they could have lines? “All the jokes in the world can’t change who and what you are.”

Jason shrugged and continued nonchalantly up the hill to where his sister was standing with arms crossed, staring down at something on the other side.

“True genius is never appreciated in its own time,” he tossed back over his shoulder. “I’m sure I’ll be immortalized in song eventually.”

The mob of morons deigned to let him go without further incident. Though he suspected that had less to do with his scathing wit and more to do with him being headed towards Cass. She was immaculately presented as always, wearing the Gotham Academy uniform like she was born to it despite hating its uncomfortable stiffness every bit as much as he did. But that was just Cass for you. 

For all that she still struggled at times to engage verbally or speak up in social settings, her mastery of body language remained without peer. She could chameleon-camouflage her way into matching poise and posture with anyone - a skill that had allowed her to walk into school on her very first day with her head held high as though she owned everything in her sight. Exuding so much Queen Bee Intimidation Factor even the other hive queens were afraid to approach her  themselves. Sending forth their drones to try and woo her into an alliance, only to see her remain oh-so-casually above it all, a slightly contemptuous smile adorning her lips.

Basically, she scared the shit out of their classmates without them having anywhere close to a true understanding of why, and Jason was outrageously jealous. Rude. Unfair. Why did his siblings always get all the cool toys when all he had was his rakish charm, scintillating intellect and debonair.....nah, who was he kidding. He was fucking awesome. 

“Sup, sis,” he said, cresting the hill to stand beside Cass. “Just FYI, I just took a popularity bullet for you, which means you owe me your dessert tonight. Its a family rule that’s totally a real thing and definitely not something I just made up right now because Alf is making chocolate soufflé.”

She made no acknowledgment and remained stock still, a Colossus at Rhodes peering down into the shifting shadows of the parking lot below.

He peered down as well, though with absolutely no idea what they were looking at. Solidarity, yo.

“So are we staring fixedly at anything in particular, or should I just pick my own spot and commit?”

His humor was totally wasted on her as always. Instead of laughing and telling him what a lovable goof he was, she just inclined her head in the direction of a blonde girl where she was standing next to the driver’s side door of a Mercedes-Benz, dictating final commandments to her peons before departing. Well, probably. Jason was just guessing, based on his own body language reads, and like, general disdain for literally everyone at this school that wasn’t related to him.

He made a face. An extra special one reserved just for this classmate in particular. “Ugh, Madison Dunleavy? She’s the worst.”

Cass raised a cool eyebrow. “I thought Craig Hendricks was the worst.”

“He is. They’re both the worst. Its a hotly contested position here at Gotham Academy.”

She rolled her eyes and nodded back down at the Queen of Air and Darkness. “So. You know her?”

“Nope,” Jason said. “Come to think of it, I’ve actually never seen her in my life. No idea who that is. Can’t help you, sorry. Shall we go home?”

The Eyebrow of Inquisition speared him with clear intent. Who the fuck needed words when you could pack the Encyclopedia Britannica into a single facial expression?

Jason sighed gustily. 

“I had a slight altercation with her freshman year that led to her declaring her undying enmity for me until the end of time. The word nemesis may or may not have been thrown around once or twice. I can’t recall.”

The Eyebrow of Inquisition lowered nary an inch. Ugh, she wanted more? Why did everyone in his family hate privacy, with the obvious exclusion of himself when snooping through Cass and Dick’s rooms for blackmail material, which was actually intel-gathering and thus another matter entirely.

“Okay so basically what happened was my first week here I overheard her talking shit about me and not even twenty minutes later she was pretending to kiss my ass in homeroom, like probably because of Bruce, y’know? So I just busted out laughing and told her to fuck off and die and she has inexplicably loathed me ever since.”

Avoiding further Eyebrow Inquisition-ing, he made a show of peering around aimlessly. When the silence extended and it was clear Cass was absolutely not going to break first, Jason waved a hand in dismissal and took to peering oh so casually at his fingernails. "I suppose I was less tactful back in those days.”

He chanced a look up, finally, and saw his sister’s eyebrow had somehow managed to mighty morphin power ranger its way into a configuration evoking both judgment and disbelief, with the latter perhaps aimed at the idea he was significantly differing in the tact department these days either.

“I don’t love the implications your face is making right now,” he told her.

She ignored him, because of course she did. 

“Does she know Dick?” She asked instead. Jason shrugged.

“I mean, maybe? She’s probably seen him around at one of those stupid galas we have to go to, and actually I think maybe she has an older brother who was either in Dick’s grade or like, one above or below it? I don’t know.”

Now both eyebrows were doing the dance of disbelief. Okay, so maybe that was poor situational awareness on his part, since it wasn’t like Gotham Academy was a big school with a ton of other kids and also he’d only been in the same class as Madison for like over two whole years, but whatever. There were extingent circumstances.

“Look, she’s a total snob who’s always looked down on me and in return I willfully ignore both her existence and that of everyone and everything even tangentially related to her. Its called equality, Cass.”

She pursed her lips and went back to the peering, because of course in the mind of Cass it made total sense that the Grand Inquisition didn’t need to be followed up by any explanation on her part, what the hell. Like was he supposed to have inferred it?

“What’s this all about anyway?”

“I heard her talking about Dick earlier,” she said without peeling her eyes away from her personal recon mission. “I don’t know what she said though, I just heard her say Grayson, and then I was busy looking at what her body was saying. I know it was about Dick because she shut down when she saw me. And I didn’t like the way she....looked....before that happened. The way she was talking. It was.....”

Jason frowned but held back any follow-up questions while he waited - with total patience because he wasn’t an absolute cad, thank you very much - for his sister to find the word she was hunting for. It was a major source of frustration for her, that whatever neural map her brain followed put body language and spoken language in totally different regions of her brain, separated by a fairly great divide. Meaning she usually had to make a conscious choice to focus on body language or conventional languages - whether verbal or sign. But it tended to be one or the other; she’d yet to master taking in and comprehending both forms of ‘language’ at the same time. And none of them had quite figured out how to convince her that she wasn’t actually missing anything when she chose to focus on one specific form of communication - that she was still observing far more than most people ever would.

“Proprietary,” Cass settled on at last. She nodded her satisfaction with her choice of word, and Jason waited a whole two point five seconds before sticking  his whole foot in his mouth.

“Proprietary?” He asked with a scrunched nose as he weighed that for possible context and implications. “You sure?”

She glared. He winced. It was a whole thing.

“Yeah, I know, sorry, sorry, I heard it the second it was out of my mouth. We don’t actually have to experiment with the legitimacy of if looks could kill.”

Cass rolled her eyes, but eh. That could’ve gone worse.

Jason swiftly redirected attention anyway. Discretion is the better part of valor, after all.

“So. The Queen of Air and Darkness was talking about our big bro, and her mood was.....proprietary, huh?” He recapped while digesting the info like a boss. “Well. Definitely not loving that, I gotta say. Hold please.”

Pulling out his phone and pulling up his most recent texts, he began typing furiously.

“What are you doing?” Cass asked.

“Texting Tom,” he replied, because duh. Hah, now it was his chance to have the answers that should be patently obvious and thus make with the ‘are you kidding me’ when she asked obvious questions she should know the answer to! How do you like them apples, sis?

“Why are you texting your boyfriend right now?”

Jason rolled his eyes, because fair is fair, but never ceased texting for a moment. Time was of the essence here, probably. Well, maybe. Okay probably not. But it’d still been like half an hour since he and Tom had last texted and that’s a very fucking long time in teenage years.

“To be our getaway driver tonight, obviously.”

She stared at him. He didn’t look up, but he could feel it anyway. He was very intuitive like that.

“What?”

Jason heaved another sigh, one keyed to tones of ‘oh my god, do I really have to spell this out,” exasperation. He was just racking up the bonus points here. It was really too bad this wasn’t an actual competition he could actually win and this was all just pettiness taking place wholly in his own head. Lame. 

“Well, clearly we now have to go snoop in Madison’s house aka lair to see if its actually a house or a full on lair. Because she’s either a creeper or like, legit evil, and its important to know which one before we proceed, because obviously we can only bust her for being a weird creeper about our brother as Jason and Cass, whereas if she’s legit evil, that’s gotta go down as Robin and Black Bat. I’ll handle the snooping, you’ll take look-out, but we still need a wheelman and that’s why I’m texting Tom. This is all very mission-oriented, okay. I’m a professional.”

“Right,” she affirmed, while sounding anything but convinced. “Why don’t we just tell Bruce?”

Without looking up or breaking stride, he said: “I’m going to give you til I finish typing this sentence to figure out what was wrong with what you just said. Remember that we are talking about hypothetical danger to our brother, and also Bruce’s idea of a proportionate response to any of his children being in even hypothetical danger. And also our brother’s idea of a proportionate response to Bruce’s idea of a proportionate response. Look, you’re still new so I’m gonna need you to just trust me on this one. Its gonna be a no on telling Bruce without further intel.”

Cass said nothing in response to that, which meant that she was conceding the point and recognized the wisdom of his words. Or maybe that she was just gonna go ahead and do what she wanted anyway and just wasn’t bothering to fight about it, but it was probably that first thing.

“Well you better not just make out with your boyfriend all night,” is what she said at last, and that got his attention reeeeeal quick like.

“Umm. Wow. Okay. So, first off, you’re not the boss of me and who I make out with and when, so jot that down. And second, now I’m definitely going to make out with my boyfriend extra hard, with the exception of when we are actually on our recon mission because as previously established, I am a professional. And also, again, you’re not the boss of me.”

Jason ignored her Eye Roll With Extra Emphasis, and instead just held up his phone to Text With Extra Emphasis, as he read along with what he was typing.

“By the way babe, we have to make out extra hard tonight,” he said, tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth while he dragged out his dictation with the kind of focus that usually led to Bruce asking why he couldn’t apply as much intensity to training as he did to pettiness. “Cass has suddenly decided she can dictate terms to me and I need to shut that shit down ASAP, so thank you in advance for your assistance in this matter. Smoochies and other gay stuff to the best boyfriend ever.”

Jason frowned as a response pinged back seconds later. 

TheCatsMeow: ....the things I put up with for the sake of your weird family dynamics.

TheOnlyRobinThatRocks: Yeah, yeah. You’re a saint among were-panthers. Must you mock? Why can’t you just tell me I’m pretty instead?

TheCatsMeow: Sorry. Let me try again. OMG you’re so pretty Jase how did I get so lucky xoxo.

TheOnlyRobinThatRocks: No. Its too late. It feels forced and unbelievable now. You’ve ruined it forever.

TheCatsMeow: Got it. From now on I will only tell you that you’re repulsive and hideous.

TheOnlyRobinThatRocks: I’m breaking up with you.

TheCatsMeow: But after I help you with your mission tonight.

TheOnlyRobinThatRocks: Obvsly. I’m a professional. Why do people keep forgetting this?

TheCatsMeow: And also the making out to spite your sister.

TheOnlyRobinThatRocks: Yeah we should do that first too. I mean we already penciled it in.