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wickedmilo · 3 years ago

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ASK ME ANYTHING | MILO & HARSH

PLACE: Harsh’s apartment TIMING: A couple of months before ‘Sweet Summer Child’ SUMMARY: Milo begrudgingly accepts the fact that if you don’t know, sometimes you just have to ask WRITING PARTNER: @notsoharsh CONTENT WARNINGS: Mentions of overdosing, needles, and drug abuse

Milo stared down at his notebook, his hasty, and cluttered handwriting making it difficult to spot any spelling mistakes or inconsistencies. Not that it would matter, really. He had no plan on actually letting Harsh see his work. But it felt important to appear at least semi-composed. He was already making himself vulnerable, embarrassing himself by showing his blatant lack of understanding. He knew Harsh would be kind, and patient. The man had yet to show any sign of regretting his decision to take him in, something that was both a comfort, and a concern. It was forever looming over his head, the thought of the older vampire growing bored of playing mentor. But he knew he couldn’t live in fear. Either it would happen, or it wouldn’t, and right now, what was important was his distinct, and disorienting lack of knowledge. Hopefully, by the end of the night, he wouldn’t feel so lost, or confused. He might finally get some answers.

People had been helping him, Harsh in particular had made him feel safe, and secure in a way he could never have anticipated. But there was so much to learn, and it was very rare for information to come up organically. He was learning, that much was undeniable, but the pacing was slow, and eventually he had come to decide the best course of action would be writing a list. A list of everything he felt he had missed, everything that wasn’t about to come up in conversation, every question that hit him at 6 in the morning, every worry, every passing query, every fact that Rio wouldn’t know. Harsh would be there for him, in the same way he had been there for him since the moment they first crossed paths with each other. So he saw no harm in presenting him with said list, of asking him outright in a bid to know more.

The overwhelming scent of human food told him he would find Harsh cooking in the kitchen. It was something he did an awful lot considering he wasn’t able to enjoy the food, but the sound of somebody cooking, the smells, and routine that came with seeing his roommate busy over a stovetop, was something he genuinely enjoyed. It made the apartment feel more like home. Slipping out of his bedroom, and making his way into the hall, his socked feet were soft, and quiet against the apartment’s hardwood flooring. When he finally arrived at the kitchen, he hovered in the doorway so that he could watch for a moment before making his presence known. No doubt Harsh was fully aware he had an audience, he was very good at staying vigilant, but he pretended otherwise so it felt polite to announce himself. “So…” He started, trying to ignore the sudden spark of anxiety that ignited within his chest. It was an unhealthy product of his academic upbringing, but he hated not knowing. If he needed to know the answer to a question he had always been encouraged to search for it himself, which made it very easy to pretend he had automatically known the answer. This was different. Harsh was him searching for information, only to get it, he first needed to admit that he didn’t have it. Something that didn’t come naturally to him. “What’s on the menu tonight?” He asked, leaning against the door jam, offering an affectionate smile.

There was something strangely comforting about having a roommate again. No, comforting wasn’t quite the word. Settling, balancing maybe. Harsh didn’t care to get hung up on the particulars. He knew what he was like when left on his own too long, had been there too many times. He got reckless, he got sloppy. Even before he had turned, before he had thrown his soul away, he had been impulsive. It was worse now. Though he had learned from two hundred years of mistakes, there were still times he slipped, fell into old, bad behaviors. It was so easy. Instant gratification. That was the name of the soulless game and it was one he had played for two centuries. He liked to think he played it well, but there had been close calls and plenty of them. Now though, there was someone else to worry about. A couple of someones, if he was honest with himself now. He had friends, people who gave a shit. And he wanted to give one too. It was weird, the feelings scraping up the hollow where his soul should be. Wanting one wasn’t the same as having it, not by a long shot, but he had been pretending for a while. Fake it till you make it, the words had served him pretty damn well so far. What was a bit more?

Harsh didn’t take his eyes off the sizzling pan in front of him as Milo made his way down the hall. The kid was learning. Stealth wasn’t part of the vampire package, but it was necessary to know to make it out there. Still, Harsh hadn’t made it this far without knowing when someone was sneaking up on him, when he was being watched. But he kept his eyes on the food before him. Neither of them needed to eat, but it was a habit he had never quite managed to shake. He remembered it vaguely how much he had liked to cook when he was alive. Though the tastes had faded off his tongue, the fun hadn’t. He grinned as he flipped the vegetables, tossing and catching in the searing pan. Glancing over his shoulder at Milo’s question, he grinned. “Stir fry, I found this new recipe I wanted to try. Extra spicy, careful around the garlic though, makes your fangs pop out if you get a big bite.”

Grabbing two dishes from the cupboard, he plated up the food smoothly and slid one across the counter to Milo. The apartment wasn’t huge, but it was big enough to suit their purposes and had a landlord who didn’t look too closely at references. The kitchen was separated from the living room only by a half wall sort of island, a bar stool on either side. Harsh sank onto his after grabbing a mug of blood out of the microwave. “You want a cup?” he asked. “There’s more in the fridge. Should last us a couple weeks.”

Milo eyed the vegetables as Harsh flipped them, looking back up at the man in time to catch his easy grin. It was so obvious he enjoyed cooking, though he had never thought to ask why before. Was it something he used to do a lot when he was human? Maybe he had been a chef in some past forgotten life. “Wait- you put garlic in there?” He asked, moving forward to peer into the pan, his notebook still clutched to his chest. “That’s really a thing? Like, vampires and garlic?” He couldn’t hide his skepticism though he definitely wasn’t about to demand any kind of proof. He figured that was one question he would be able to tick off of his list. Leaning against the kitchen counter as Harsh moved to ready two plates, he couldn’t help the way his expression brightened at the prospect of blood. He had always been self-indulgent. If something made him feel good, or he enjoyed it, then he wanted more. He wasn’t in the business of denying himself simple pleasures, and thanks to his new life, blood happened to be one of them.

He had kept note of his roommate’s eating habits, he knew vampires only really needed a moderate amount every couple of weeks if they wanted to get by without descending into bloodlust. But much to the detriment of Harsh’s supply, he had been drinking far more than he needed to. Why not? If Harsh was happy to let him then he saw no reason to hold back. “Sure!” He enthused, picking up his plate of food and setting it down opposite Harsh so that it would be ready for him when he got back. Leaving his notebook beside it, he moved to pull a blood bag out of the fridge. Using a pair of scissors from the cutlery drawer to cut open the plastic, he looked back over to his company as he began to empty the blood into a mug. “Did you have a good day- I mean, night at work?” He absentmindedly corrected himself, still not used to the shift in scheduling. “Anything interesting happen?”

“Oh yeah, a whole bunch. I know it’s weird.” Harsh shot Milo a grin as he drew closer, glancing at the notebook. Huh, he was actually trying to do homework on this whole vampire thing. That was probably smart. “It is… sort of. It doesn’t hurt us or anything, but it makes it pretty hard to pretend to be human. Try a clove and see what happens,” he said, passing one over. “I just eat them like popcorn sometimes. They actually taste like something. I go a little crazy seasoning things sometimes.” As much as he swore by the perks of being undead, he couldn’t really deny that not being able to taste things properly was sort of a pain. After two hundred years, he was used to it, but playing around in the kitchen, trying to find something that would cut through the dullness never quite got old.

The blood wasn’t going as far as it used to, but that was to be expected. Sharing with a roommate, and a newbie at that, was going to make things a little tighter than usual. Oh well. If they started running low on blood bags, Harsh could just go eat a couple joggers. He slid onto a stool at the counter, popping a large forkful of food into his mouth. Decent, but he could do better. “Well, Dr. Gnick killed three people in surgery today and made his interns talk to their families, so that was kind of a shit show. They seriously need to take that guy’s medical license away. If you ever want a watch though, let me know, he loses his in patients all the time. They’re nice ones too. What about you, man? Finding stuff to do around here?”

“Everything about this situation is weird.” Milo countered, throwing the empty blood bag into the bin before putting his mug in the microwave. Setting the timer in the way he had been taught to, the drink should be body temperature by the time the alarm eventually sounded. Just the fact that he knew how long to microwave blood for inarguably supported his statement. That was not normal information to retain. Turning around to lean back against the counter behind him, listening to the quiet hum of the appliance, he wrinkled his nose at the thought of eating garlic cloves like popcorn. He knew as he tried to imagine doing so he was remembering the overpowering taste that came with being human, but it was still a difficult habit to understand. Hesitantly reaching out to take the clove offered to him, he held it up to his eye level, analysing it quietly before deciding he had nothing to lose. Popping it into his mouth, it definitely wasn’t an unpleasant sensation, and Harsh was right about being able to taste… something. But it was only a matter of seconds before he could feel his fangs protruding. They made him feel clumsy, and awkward as he continued to chew. After forcing himself to swallow, he reached up to prod at them with the tip of his finger, raising his eyebrows at his roommate. “So that’s what happens?” He asked. “It doesn’t hurt us but it stops us from looking human?”

It was kind of depressing to think something as mundane as an ingredient could reveal what he was now, draw this monster out of him against his will, but he tried not to dwell on that fact, focusing instead on the microwave as it beeped to alert him that his drink was ready. Once he was comfortably hugging the mug to his chest, he settled into the chair opposite his friend, a quiet laugh escaping him at what he sincerely hoped was a joke. “No he did not.” He countered, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. “Though honestly, shit like that would probably go unnoticed in a place like this.” If doctors could steal blood bags, and he could forge his father’s prescriptions, then people weren’t exactly being vigilant. “I can’t say I’m in the market for a watch,” he admitted. “But I’ll take one if it’s got a gruesome backstory.” Faltering at the question of how he was spending his time, he realised it was the perfect way to change the subject of their conversation. Move it over from lighthearted small talk to something heavier, and more difficult to discuss. Chewing on his bottom lip for a moment, his fangs sharp and uncomfortable against the skin there, he pulled his notebook back towards himself. “Actually…” He tapped his fingers absentmindedly against the page facing upwards. “I spent today coming up with a list of questions.” Offering Harsh a sheepish grin, he watched him carefully for any sign of judgement. “If- if you don’t mind me asking, I mean- I guess his is probably the last thing you want to do after work.”

“Eh, after you’ve been doing it a while, it doesn’t seem that off.” Harsh hardly even thought about it anymore. Drinking blood was just one of those things, like showering or brushing his teeth. But then, he did have about two hundred years to get used to it. He snagged a couple cloves of garlic for himself, not so much as blinking when his fangs jutted out. It took a moment’s focus to get them back in place. Though he didn’t need to. Not like Milo was going to care about it. “Pretty much. So if you’re ever hanging around humans, just make sure you skip the garlic bread.” Garlic usually didn’t prove to be too much of a problem, though Harsh had encountered a couple humans over the years who had tried to slip him some, just to force the fangs out, to prove what they were already certain of. “It would be worse if we could still taste things. I would miss Italian food way more if it still tasted like something. If there’s any kind of food you miss though, I can try to make it. I like playing around with recipes, see what I need to do to make it actually have flavor.”

Harsh laughed, one shoulder rising in a shrug. “Is pulling a watch out of a dead guy’s guts gruesome enough? I swear, the stuff you find in bodies at the hospital is wild.” He had a small collection of things that had been found by the unlucky doctors dealing with the patients who didn’t make it. Maybe it was stealing, but he was pretty sure that no one wanted any of it back. “Questions?” Harsh blinked, caught a little off guard. He shouldn’t have been though. It made sense. When he had first turned, he had probably driven Eleanor crazy with all his questions. “I don’t mind. Better you ask me than try to find vampire forums online, people always make up the weirdest shit. So go for it, kid. Ask me anything.” Hell, this would probably be a better way to spend the night than just watching whatever mindless crap was on TV.

Milo could understand that. Even though on occasion he still caught himself doing something and was inevitably struck by just how strange that something was, his more vampiric habits were slowly becoming second nature. How long until he did things without thinking? Without remembering a time where he didn’t need to? Taking a sip from his mug, washing away the taste of the garlic, he watched Harsh as he retracted his own fangs. It wasn’t the first time he had seen him do it, but now felt like a very good time to ask him how it was possible. “How do you do that? Make them disappear?” He offered a sheepish grin, hiding behind his mug to avoid acknowledging his embarrassment. Maybe no matter what he did, he was going to feel ridiculous for asking so many questions. Maybe he should simply embrace that fact. “Noted.” He laughed quietly at the mention of garlic bread. He wasn’t sure there were many humans he needed to worry about eating around, so it wasn’t very much of a concern. Still, he was willing to take any advice he could get his hands on. “Italian food is your favourite? What was Italian food even like… two hundred years ago? How old are you again?” Making a mental note to think back on any food he missed that Harsh might be able to recreate, he wrinkled his nose at the mention of objects being found in dead bodies. Of course he had ended up with a roommate who liked to collect said items.

“I actually don’t want to know, I’ve changed my mind.” He teased. “I can’t believe you have a collection. Have any ghosts followed you home demanding their shit back?” He was only half joking, he definitely wouldn’t be surprised if the answer ended up being yes. Feeling a little more confident in himself now that the conversation was flowing easily, he nodded, grateful for no longer being able to blush. “Oh, jeez. Thanks for the heads up. I’ll, uh… I’ll stay away from the internet.” Offering his company a genuine smile, he took one more sip of his drink before begrudgingly setting it down. This was going to require his full attention, he couldn’t afford to get distracted. Pulling his notebook towards himself, he let out a huff of breath. Why was it this hard? It shouldn’t be this hard. Especially when Harsh made him feel so comfortable. “Okay, so you know I wrote a list… I’m just going to- I’ll start with the first question.” It was only going to complicate things if he jumbled them, so he swallowed his nerves, steeling himself to rip off the bandaid. “So… why can’t we sleep?” It was something that had been bothering him an awful lot, as of late. He could almost sleep, achieve something that passed the time and felt similar to losing consciousness. But it wasn’t the same. He missed the comfort, and the warmth. He missed the dreaming. “It’s like I can, but I can’t- if you know what I mean. I don’t get it…”

That was a decent question actually. Harsh hesitated, trying to think about it. There was so much that was just automatic now. He had spent so long learning to blend in, how to make himself seem more human, it was something he barely thought about. “You have to kind of relax your mouth. Think un-bloody thoughts. Just let them sink back in. It’s… kind of an instinct thing when they pop out sometimes, y’know? So you have to train yourself to just let them slip back in when you don’t need them. It’ll get easier with time.” At least, that was the hope. If Milo couldn’t figure it out, well… that was going to be a problem for later. He considered the question for a moment, shrugging. “I don’t know if it was my favorite. It depended where you went. I travelled a lot before I turned, everywhere had their own special dish. I’m 262… wait, I might be 263 actually. I sorta stopped keeping track of birthdays a while ago. They seem less special after the hundred year mark.” The date hardly mattered. If he really sat down and thought about it, he could probably remember, but there didn’t seem to be much of a point. It was easier to keep track of the years ticking by.

“Hey, it’s not like I just keep them for the hell of it. Loose watches and rings sell for a lot if you know who wants to buy.” It wasn’t something Harsh technically needed to do, the hospital job paid well enough and he had a decent amount saved. Still, a little extra spending money never hurt. Watching Milo’s posture shift, Harsh sat up a little straighter. So the kid was serious about this. Good, that was good. The more he knew, the better he would handle things out in the world. Huh, that was actually a pretty good question. Harsh rubbed at his chin. “Yeah, I know what you mean. The short answer is that we just don’t need to. I… think when we turn, things in our brain kind of shift a little bit. You don’t need that deep sleep to recharge anymore, so we just… don’t. It’s weird. It’s one of those things that gets easier over time. I think another part of it is… well, humans are kind of wired to sleep at night, but that’s the only time we can really go out and do anything, so we need to be awake for it. If you really miss sleeping… I know a couple people who might be able to help with that.” It wasn’t a guarantee, but hell he had seen spellcasters do a lot more than just put someone to sleep.

Milo glanced down at the blood in his mug, it was tempting him even as they spoke. Maybe thinking ‘un-bloody’ thoughts would need to wait for another time. “Hm, you keep saying that.” He pointed out. Though he had no doubt the words were true, sometimes he felt too impatient to wait for things to become easier with time. Why couldn’t they become easier now? Falling silent again, genuinely intrigued by the answer to his question, he couldn’t imagine how different travelling was back when Harsh had been human. Did he use a horse and cart like in the movies? Or ships, maybe? What other modes of transport were there? A quiet laugh escaping him, he did his best to avoid dwelling on his roommate’s age. It was fun to joke about every now and then, but the reality of it was terrifying. He had gone from feeling certain he probably wouldn’t reach the age of fifty, to knowing he might very well live to see his two hundredth birthday. What were you supposed to do with that information? How were you supposed to come to terms with that? “I guess fitting more than a hundred candles on a cake is pretty impossible anyway.” He teased.

His smile growing as he realised Harsh sold the items he took from the morgue, he wasn’t sure whether that was more or less reassuring. It could definitely be considered economical. Watching as his company sat up a little straighter, he felt another wave of gratitude wash over him. He didn’t need to be taking this so seriously, but apparently he understood how important it was. How desperate he was just to understand. His smile faltered as Harsh began to explain the way their bodies worked, but it didn’t take away from his appreciation. He wanted to say he wasn’t disappointed, that he had inevitably drawn the same conclusion. But he was disappointed. He was never going to have the feeling of waking up next to somebody again. He was never going to be able to drift off in the morning knowing he didn’t need to be up for anything. It was an opportunity to escape reality, to just enjoy being comfortable, and it had been taken from him. Stolen like so many other things. “You- you do?” He asked, unable to hide the sudden spark of hope he felt ignite within his chest. “Like actually sleep? Because I already know from experience I can still drink myself into oblivion.” Taking a quick sip from his mug before picking up his pen and crossing out question number one, he tapped the top of it against his notepad, already thinking over question number two. “Okay…” He continued, making it clear he was moving on. “So how can we be killed? There has to be more than one way, right? And we can get injured, so if we get injured enough, can that be fatal... or is it only if we’re injured by wood?”

“Ah, yeah, sorry. I don’t mean to be a broken record. It’s just… you’re still pretty new to all this, man. You’ve gotta give yourself a break. There’s no rush, y’know? You’ve got a couple hundred years to figure shit out if you play your cards right.” It felt lame to say, but Harsh knew he had been repeating himself. That didn’t make it less true. There were so many things that he had just stumbled onto as time went on, things that just became natural the longer he spent as a thing that went bump in the night. Honestly, some of Milo’s questions kinda threw him. He hadn’t thought about his fangs in such a long time. They were just part of him. It was like asking about how his tongue moved when he was eating something. It just… did it. But that wasn’t a helpful answer. With a laugh, he nodded. “I tried to put a hundred on a cake once. It wasn’t really worth the joke, the whole thing got all waxy and gross. It’s easier to just get those number shaped candles, cheaper too.” The thing about birthdays is that you needed people to celebrate them with. Harsh didn’t always have those. But… maybe he should look into it. There were people in White Crest, his friends, they might like that kind of thing. It was weird to think about.

“Yeah, I do.” Harsh sort of did. It was… maybe a weird ask, but that was probably something Nell could whip up, or maybe he could track down someone a little shadier and ask. It wasn’t as though he had never dreamed as a vampire, though the few times he had, something magic had definitely been at work. So it was possible… probably. He had never actually figured out what it had been that caused all that dream sharing stuff, but it hadn’t been all that important. At least not for him. “Actual, real sleep. It… might get a little weird, magic can do that, but I think it would be more like what you want.” Magic always had its risks. He wasn’t anything close to a spellcaster and he knew that much. Onto the more intense questions then. That was a pretty smart ask though. “There’s a couple ways,” he said, nodding, “stake through the heart is the most popular. You probably know about the sun thing, if you stay out too long, it’s bad news. We’re also shockingly flammable, so I would avoid campfires and arson. And getting your head cut off, but I’m pretty sure that kills most things. Most other things we can heal from, and we heal fast, but you don’t want to get too reliant on that. Bullets and knives still hurt like hell, and if you haven’t had blood in a while, you heal slower.” Harsh didn’t exactly have the scars to prove it, but he could remember more than a few times where he had gotten a little too cocky and paid the price.

Milo smiled at Harsh, silently assuring him he didn’t need to apologise. Especially not for trying to comfort him, even if he did use the same lines on occasion. He was right, although the reminder of his new lifespan still made him nervous. He had time to figure things out, time to become comfortable with what he was, and the strange world he had been thrown into. He was already feeling far better than he had when Harsh first crossed his path, and that was largely due to his help. In a few more months he might even be happy, there really was no way to know. “Hm, but those number candles aren’t anywhere near as dramatic.” He pointed out. “Isn’t a hundred kind of a flex?” Wrinkling his nose at the thought of biting into icing only to realise it was actually wax, he couldn’t deny the inconvenience. But then, did vampires even eat cake? Making a mental note as the conversation shifted back to sleep, he didn’t want to forget. He longed to know who these people were, who he could go to and ask for some spell or potion that might allow him to replicate sleep. But that wasn’t what he was here to discuss. There were more important questions demanding his attention. “I can handle weird.” He assured his roommate, although he had a feeling there might be a lot of evidence to prove otherwise. Until recently he had been a mess, and they both knew it. Only with Harsh’s support had he been able to brush himself off, and hesitantly begin to deal with the loss of his human life.

Pushing away the thought, he focused on his mug of blood, nearly half empty now as it sat on the table in front of him. He picked it up, taking another sip before it was able to get cold. Nodding to show that he was listening to what was being said, he considered the new information. He was more than familiar with people trying to force a stake through his heart, but the mention of fire surprised him. “Wait- we’re flammable?” He asked, his mouth open slightly as he stared in indignant disbelief. “What, so every time I pull out my lighter I could literally fucking die?” As far as he was concerned, he would much rather take the inconvenience of wax on a cake over being scared of the candles. “You’re saying smoking can still kill me…” He added, pouting petulantly as he began to realise how frustrating navigating his smoking habit was going to be. “Shit.” Finishing what was left of his drink, he undeniably did feel better after putting his mug down again. Blood, like so many other substances in his life, was proving to be a wonderful aid when it came to avoiding his problems. “Okay, so…” Letting out a huff of breath, he turned his attention back to his notebook, scanning the questions he had written there, searching for the next one on the list. “You said if I haven’t had blood in a while then I heal slower? How much blood do I need to survive? And what happens to me if I don’t drink it?”

It was a pretty big adjustment, going from expecting to croak in fifty years to knowing there might be hundreds to go. Harsh had been pretty thrown when he had realized just how much time he had. Sure there was that distant deadline, four hundred years, but even that wasn’t an end. It was… a change, but one he wasn’t really eager to think about. Even though he was getting closer to that than he was to a normal human lifespan. Still, not his main problem right now. “Kinda, yeah. I definitely made a pretty big deal of it when I hit triple digits. But the second century seems a little more meh, y’know?” Though maybe that was just him. By the time he had started getting close to two hundred, everything had started to seem… less than it used to be. The hollow inside had started to grow, nothing ever filling it. Nothing lasted, nothing mattered. Huh, were souls a thing on Milo’s list? Harsh was half tempted to ask. Nah, probably better not to touch that unless the kid brought it up. “Alright, I can ask. Do you--have you messed with anything magic before? We can’t do it, at least I’m pretty sure we can’t. But there’s kind of… a lot of it just going off around here.” Milo was from the area, he had to have noticed some things weren’t quite normal in town. How anyone didn’t know that White Crest was a supernatural hot spot was beyond him. Denial was a hell of a drug.

With a little laugh, Harsh nodded. “Yeah. I mean, you’re probably not going to go up in flames if you drop your smokes on you, but… you might just want to be a little more careful with them. Just in case.” He had seen a few vamps catch fire before, it wasn’t pretty. Still, it didn’t usually happen by accident… usually. There had been a few idiots here and there who had landed themselves in rough shape. “It’s possible,” he said, shrugging and shooting Milo a sympathetic smile. “Just be careful and you shouldn’t have a problem… but I might stay away from bonfires if I were you.” Ah, blood, of course. It always came back around to that. Harsh hardly thought about it now. But the questions were good ones. “Yeah, and it’s not just healing. If I go too long without blood, I start getting antsy, it gets harder to focus on anything except for when I’m getting that next blood bag.” He fought down a slight shudder as he spoke. It had been ages since the last time he had gone too long without a drink, but the times he’d stretched his supply a little too thin always stuck in the back of his mind. “It depends. You’re still new, so… I wouldn’t go more than a week without a pint of blood. Once you adjust more, you can probably stretch it to two weeks, maybe three, but it starts getting risky around then. If you don’t get any… for me, I start feeling a lot less like a person. It gets to where it’s all you can think about. And, if it gets really bad, you might kind of lose yourself until you get another drink, and at that point, you’ll probably do anything you have to to get it.”

“Hm, the second century…” Milo echoed, amused by the absurdity of the statement. He could only imagine being that old, but one day he wouldn’t need to. One day it would be him reaching the triple digits. “Have I- no.” He answered, caught off guard by the unexpected question. “I mean, I don’t even know anybody who can do magic… I don’t think I do, anyway.” It was still strange to consider how many people from his life had been living in a secret, supernatural world. If he was being entirely honest he probably did know a witch or two. They just hadn’t told him about what they could do. “Why? Is it like, dangerous or something? Are you going to tell me it’s more trouble than it’s worth?” He almost dreaded the words, not because he would heed any advice Harsh had to offer, but because it would be another element of his life that came with risks, strings attached, people worrying over his safety, and growing restless when he refused to listen to them. He already had enough of that without turning to magic as a sleeping aid. “Yeah, no shit.” He added. “Ever since I died this place seems to get weirder by the fucking day…” He missed the days of blissful ignorance, the days where he could leave the house without worrying whether a Slayer might be waiting at the end of the street to stake him. Picking up his mug again, he sighed, clutching it to his chest as he listened to his roommate.

“If I did careful then I wouldn’t be a vampire.” He pointed out. Though they both knew he would be careful knowing the risk fire now posed to him. Not as careful as any sane person, but given his record any level of vigilance was commendable on his part. Paying closer attention as the conversation moved back to blood, he finished what was left of his drink, carefully savouring the taste of it. “I guess I kind of know that feeling…” He admitted, thinking back on every time he had ever been forced to go without his pills, or his cigarettes, or abstain from drinking alcohol. It was never an enjoyable experience. “I, uh… don’t think stretching is for me.” He realised as he said the words that maybe sometimes stretching would be his only option. Blood wasn’t exactly easy to source in an ethical manner. Without Harsh’s connection to the hospital, he didn’t know where his supply might be coming from. He wouldn’t let himself dwell on the thought. Swallowing as his company began to tell him about the risks of not eating properly, he lowered his gaze, tapping his fingers against the ceramic in his hands. He already knew what it felt like to lose himself, he never wanted to suffer through that again. “Like when you wake up… after you die...” He asked, his voice barely louder than a whisper. Would Harsh even be able to remember waking up? It had happened to him so long ago.

Forcing down the memories of his first, and only attack, he stared at his notebook, at the questions still written there demanding to be vocalised. “You mentioned healing…” He murmured, determined to change the subject, although he knew his next question was going to be a difficult question to ask. Harsh was more than aware of the fact that he liked to indulge, the man had even walked with him to pick up on the night they crossed paths with each other, but he still worried he could end up facing judgement, or the specific brand of sympathetic concern that still managed to set his teeth on edge. “This is hypothetical,” he started, knowing his lie would be obvious but feeling the need to insist upon it all the same. “But with the whole… the healing faster than humans thing, do you think I could still use, y’know- intravenously?” Glancing down at the marks on his arms, scars from long ago that were apparently going to forever blemish his skin, he forced himself to press on. “I guess I can’t OD anymore, right? Is that something I still need to worry about?”

That sort of made sense. Most people didn’t believe in magic until they saw it right in front of them, and sometimes that wasn’t even enough to do it. Harsh shifted his weight from foot to foot, a slight frown on his face. The question here was just how much to tell Milo. “More like it’s just literally not a thing we can do. Something about undeath and magic just doesn’t seem to mix. I don’t really know much more than that, honestly. I’ve heard people kind of lose their mojo if they turn like us. They’ll try to do a spell and just, nothing. I tried to mess with some a while back and never got anywhere.” He kept his tone light, casual, hoping Milo wouldn’t ask just what he had been trying to do. There were a dozen things he could make up, a few that weren’t even that far from the truth. “It’s also dangerous as shit if you don’t know what you’re doing. I won’t tell you not to mess with magic or spellcasters, I’m not the boss of you, but that stuff can go wrong and it’s not pretty when it does.” It was only just now getting weirder for him? Well, maybe that made sense. Milo had sort of been thrust into the thick of it.

With a soft laugh, Harsh nodded, holding up his hands. “Fair enough.” He couldn’t really argue with Milo on that one. Careful and becoming undead didn’t exactly go hand in hand. He nodded. “That’s probably better honestly. What really gets people in trouble is when they think they can make it on just a sip of blood every month. You’ll be a lot better off if you stay regular with it, especially if you’re not always drinking human blood.” He was still going to have to teach Milo how to hunt. It wasn’t exactly necessary at the moment, but two vamps meant a few more blood bags needed to go missing every month. Harsh had gotten good at keeping a low profile over the years. Milo though was still new, and new vamps weren’t exactly predictable. With a grimace, he nodded again. “Just like that. It’s… rough. People do a lot of things they regret if they go hungry for too long. I’d try just to not let it get to that point.” Easier said than done, honestly.

Ah, that. Now that was a bit of a hazy area. Harsh smoked and drank here and there, but he had never dabbled much in stronger stuff. It had never really appealed to him. A blood addiction was enough as far as he was concerned. But it was still worth asking. “Right, so… I’m not exactly an expert on that. But I think you could. You’re probably going to have to jab a little harder and you might need a stronger dose than before if you want to feel something.” He paused, letting his thoughts drift back for a moment. Though he had never messed around with anything beyond a few pot brownies, he had met a couple vamps over the years who hadn’t been able to leave their old vices behind. “I did have a few buddies a while back, they said they could still get what they needed if they fed from a human who just used. I don’t know if you’d want to do that, but… it’s an option, I guess. It sounds kind of risky to me though.” Drugs and drinking straight from a human sounded like a combination that was bound to end in disaster, but hell, Harsh had never tried it himself so what did he know. “I don’t think you need to worry too much about OD’ing now. I’d be more worried about someone thinking you OD’ed and sending you to the hospital. It’s really hard to explain waking up in a morgue.”

Milo made a mental note to avoid magic when he could, although toying with it didn’t necessarily interest him. He was looking for a way to replicate sleep, if that wasn’t possible he wasn’t sure staying away from potions, and spells would be difficult. Part of him was curious to know why, and how Harsh had been involved in spellcasting, it was becoming increasingly clear he was speaking from experience, but the older vampire was always so open when he wanted to be. If he wasn’t volunteering the information there was definitely a reason. He was under his roof, drinking his blood, picking his brain for answers to his never ending list of questions. The very least he could do was respect his privacy. “I’m not about to try and learn, don’t worry.” He insisted, hoping to alleviate some of his company’s concern. He had far too much going on to invite more chaos into his life, especially for something as simple as a good day of sleep. Smiling at the sound of Harsh’ laughter, he enjoyed the fact that the conversation felt casual, and calm. Any embarrassment, or vulnerability was fading away, replaced by a familiar sense of comfort. It was a reminder that he was safe in Harsh’s company, a reminder that for some unknown reason, the man wanted him to be okay.

“Is it good for you?” He asked, unable to help himself. He had never once considered the nutritional value of his diet, what his new body needed from it now. “To drink both?” He thought back to his nights spent on the edges of town, chasing aimlessly after every animal moronic enough to cross his path. Sometimes he got lucky, sometimes he actually managed to catch something, but the animals were usually weak or injured. He knew he wouldn’t stand a chance against a healthy creature, one determined to escape him. The blood couldn’t compare to human blood, but it had still tasted decent, and more importantly, it had kept him sane. Would he ever have to go back to that? Should he never have left it behind? Chewing on his bottom lip, fighting to keep his expression neutral, he didn’t want to talk about his own experience with losing control. He wasn’t ready to discuss that with anyone, not even Harsh. So he stayed silent, nodding quietly in response. It was only as Harsh moved on to his next question that he finally looked back up to catch his eye again.

A stronger dose. He wasn’t exactly against the notion, although he could hear his wallet adamantly protesting the news. He really should start thinking about going back to his job, but that part of his human life felt so out of reach, impossible to even consider. Not yet. Not now. Not after everything. “You did?” He asked, immediately desperate to know more. There were people out there who understood what he was worried about, who knew everything he needed to know if he wanted to continue supporting his habits. Where were they? How could he find them? Just as quickly as a sense of hope washed over him, it was replaced by a chill that seemed to shoot up the length of his spine. He couldn’t remember very much of his death, but his hazy memories were enough to make his friend’s words sound uncomfortably familiar. So he could give somebody drugs, and get high through drinking their blood? Apparently that particular strategy ended with people bleeding out on the floor of abandoned buildings. He suppressed a shudder, trying not to think too hard on the subject. He didn’t know that was why he died, and until he did he was determined to forget the details of his death, forget the trauma that he couldn’t seem to shake. “Yeah…” He murmured, reaching up absentmindedly to press his fingers against the base of his throat. “It does…” Forcing a smile again at the mention of waking up in a morgue, he had seen enough tv shows frame the situation as a joke to be able to glean some humour from the warning. Lowering his hand, he leaned forward to pull his notebook closer towards himself, scanning the list, surprised to realise he was nearing the end of it. “Okay,” he said, brushing off the previous questions, ready to be replaced. “How do you make somebody a vampire? What do you have to do for them to, you know… change? Obviously I’m not asking because I want to... I just… I can’t remember what happened to me. I want to know what was done to me.”

It was sort of a relief that Milo didn’t ask. Because if he did, Harsh would tell him. Maybe he should anyway. Was there anything about souls on that vampire question sheet? He almost wanted to sneak a peek at it. It wasn’t exactly… uncommon knowledge, but he had run into plenty of vamps over the years who had never even thought about their soul, let alone getting rid of it. He gave Milo a little smile. “Probably better that way. There’s plenty of witches hanging around town if you need some magic done anyway. It’s actually pretty cool if you watch someone who knows what they’re doing.” Cool and terrifying. Even when a spell was going right there was a chance it could go south at any second. Harsh sort of liked that rush… and he wouldn’t be that surprised if Milo did too.

“Yeah, a while back. I can try looking them up if you want.” The offer was one Harsh might not be able to cash in on. It had been ages, and those buddies weren’t really the type to have a consistent phone number or address… if they were even still around at all. “You might be able to find some people who know more about that down at this club called Teeth. You heard of it?” It probably wasn’t the sort of place he should send Milo to alone. He didn’t go there much himself, but he could chaperone now and then. God that was a weird idea, being the responsible one. When the hell did that happen? He was going to have to go out and make some dumb choices after this. Being responsible felt off. He had been trying to fake it, force it, for years. The fact that it was just kind of… happening now was weird. Unnerving.

Oh… now that was a question. Harsh let his fingers drum on the counter for a second. “Yeah, I get you.” It was understandable, wanting to get a grip on what had happened to him. “It’s not that complicated… mostly. You have to drain someone till they’re almost dead then get them to drink your blood and they should turn.” He paused, lips pulling into a grimace. “But you’ve got to be careful with it. Sometimes people turn, but… they don’t end up like us. Have you heard of spawn before? They’re… still vampires technically, but they’re not people anymore, not like we are. Some vampires make spawn on purpose, but it’s pretty messed up.” He should know, he’d done it a few times for shits and giggles. It had never turned out as funny as he had thought it would.

Milo resisted the urge to let out a huff of breath, of course White Crest was filled with witches. It seemed as though you could roll a dice on supernatural creatures and run into one the second you opened your door. “It sounds pretty cool.” He admitted. “But I can’t think of any reason why I might need magic… apart from the whole sleeping thing.” And maybe he should hold off on that for now. If magic could come with complications, didn’t his life have enough of those already? Humming softly as he considered the offer, he shot Harsh a sheepish grin. He was grateful he wasn’t being judged, or even reprimanded for his blatant intentions, but he hadn’t been expecting such a genuine level of support. “You’ve already done so much for me… I mean, only if it isn’t too much trouble?” Teeth. He felt sure he would remember visiting any place with such a distinctive name. “Uh… no,” he said, hoping to prompt a further explanation. There weren’t many establishments in White Crest he hadn’t frequented at least once before. And now he was incredibly curious to know more.

Feeling the atmosphere shift, becoming more serious as Harsh considered his latest question, he watched his fingers as they drummed against the surface of the table, the noise was quiet but incredibly distracting. Hearing the words, feeling them wash over him as his brain began to process what they meant, he had to swallow the bitter taste in his mouth. “I… drank somebody’s blood?” He asked, repressing a shudder. Drinking blood now was part of his every day routine, but he had been human then. Had he willingly taken it, or had his attacker forced it upon him? “Spawn?” He nodded, a frown creasing his brow as he looked back down at his list. The question ‘What does Spawn mean?’ jumping out at him in his clumsy, familiar handwriting. “Someone mentioned them to me once… but I didn’t know what they meant.” Feeling his stomach jolt as he realised he could have become the something other Harsh was talking about, he wondered what his chances had been. Whether he should be considering himself lucky for waking up as a vampire. “How do you make them? Is it the same… process?” He asked. If they could be created intentionally then surely there was a technique. “How do you know what somebody is going to become?”

“You never know. It’s pretty helpful if you lose something.” Harsh wasn’t about to list off his big reason for needing magic. But he should. Milo should know. He should tell him the truth. No… there was no reason to scare the kid. And it wasn’t like he owed him that information. Souls were personal. If Milo found out about them, Harsh could tell him then. Why was he even so hung up on it? It wasn’t like it mattered. He was faking it perfectly fucking well. No reason to go and throw all that away. “It’s no problem, kid. I don’t get out enough anyway.” Probably better to have someone around for Milo’s first big vamp outing. There were a lot of bad influences out there. Harsh should know. He used to be one of the worst. Plus, if Milo went on some kind of drug fuelled blood bender, that would just make things more difficult for everyone. “We can hit it up this weekend if you want, see if it’s your scene.”

Huh, so Milo really didn’t remember any of it. That was… rough. Harsh could still remember his. Well, parts of it at least. He hadn’t been alone. Eleanor had held his hand as the world went dark around him and been there when he woke up desperate to feed. Poor kid didn’t have any of that. “Yeah, that’s… kind of how it works,” he said, with a little wince. So he had at least heard of spawn, that was better than nothing. “Spawn give us a bad name. They’re the ones slayers should be dealing with.” He nodded, arms crossing over his chest. “Same process. I… don’t know exactly. I’ve always thought of it as an intent sort of thing. I know it can be done on purpose.” No need to tell Milo he knew at least partially from experience. “When you turn someone… it’s kind of this whole… thing. Siring someone isn’t something most people do lightly. I guess I’ve always thought of it as kind of a willpower and focus sort of thing. When you sire someone, you have to mean it, you have to want it. And if that’s not strong enough… it can go wrong. It gets easier to turn someone else properly the longer you’ve been at it. I’ve known some people who just turned who try to bring their family along for the undead ride and… it doesn’t usually go well.”

“I don’t have all that much to lose these days.” Milo admitted, thinking about the meagre collection of belongings he had managed to salvage from his friend’s house. He should probably go home, he still needed clothes, his laptop, and maybe there were even a few comic books he couldn’t live without. But the task felt so daunting. Watching Harsh, noticing the shadow of an emotion he couldn’t quite place, he wondered whether the older vampire had ever lost anything. Maybe one day he would ask him. “I, uh…” He shifted uncomfortably, thinking about how ready he was to walk into a room full of vampires. His killer could be there and he might never even know. “Maybe… I’m still getting used to going out again, period. It’s a- it’s a weird adjustment.” He offered a smile, letting his roommate know he was incredibly grateful for the offer. For everything. He wasn’t sure where he would be without the man sitting opposite him, who worked in a hospital, and liked to cook human food just for the fun of it. He cared about him, in an altogether unexpected way. He had been saved by Harsh. It was undeniable at this point.

“From the way it sounds they don’t mean to give us a bad name.” He pointed out, feeling a strange pang of sympathy for the monsters being described. It was a horrifying thought, becoming twisted, and warped in a way that forced you to lose who you were forever. At least he was still Milo, at least he could cling to the things that made him exactly who he was. “So… the person who did this to me, they wanted me to become a vampire. They cared enough for this-” He gestured vaguely to his neck, wrinkling his nose as he remembered the scars there. “To be successful, just not enough to stick around, I guess…” Letting out a huff of breath, he tried not to look affected, finally picking up his fork and taking a mouthful of his stir fry, if anything just for something to do. Glancing up again at the mention of people turning family, he couldn’t imagine that thought ever even crossing his mind. Maybe because he refused to acknowledge the way his future stretched out before him. Maybe because he didn’t want to admit the fact that one day his parents would no longer be there for him. Everything about the idea felt wrong, somehow. Dooming your family simply because you yourself had been doomed. He was never going to be that person. “M’kay…” He hurried to swallow, turning his attention back to the notebook, to the final question written at the edge of the page. “The last question is probably dumb but… you know the whole sunlight thing? What does happen if we stay out in the sun? When I first… y’know, I was in the sun for a while and I started to feel... I can’t explain it, I just knew I had to find some shade. Do we just get ill, and weak, or is it something more than that?”

A weird adjustment period was putting it pretty mildly. Even more than a hundred years later, Harsh remembered the shift being rough. He returned Milo’s smile easily. Milo was a good kid. He didn’t ask for any of this shit, not like Harsh did. The fact that he had been left high and dry to figure it all out on his own… even without a soul, it rubbed Harsh the wrong way. At his very worst, he had still stuck around to make sure the vamps he sired knew what was up. It was just the thing to do. “Don’t worry if it takes you a while. It’s better to be safe than sorry with… everything. But you’ve got time now, man, you don’t have to rush it.” That was a pretty big perk of the whole undeath thing. Milo had at least a couple centuries before him if he wanted them… and if he was careful. But that was always a pretty big if with new vampires. If Harsh was smart, he wouldn’t get attached, wouldn’t get invested. Harsh had never really considered himself particularly bright.

“They don’t,” Harsh said, sighing. “They don’t mean to do anything but feed. It’s not their fault really… spawn can’t really think like we can. Everything gets stripped away except that hunger.” It was pretty bleak if he actually thought about it. Usually, he didn’t. That was easy, not dwelling, not thinking. But Milo wasn’t like him. Milo still had his soul, he still felt for people. Now that was an interesting question. Did whoever turned Milo actually care? What were they after? Why him? Harsh nodded slowly. “They meant for this to happen. Whoever it was, whatever reason they had… they wanted you to be this way.” Probably. Harsh had heard of plenty of people accidentally creating spawn. But he had never heard of someone accidentally siring someone if they meant them to go the other way. Sunlight, that was another good question, even if it had Harsh fighting down a wince. “You don’t want to test it, trust me. If you stay out too long, you start to burn. Remember how we’re flammable? Think of the sun like the biggest lighter out there. It just takes a while to get the fire going.”

“Yeah…” Milo agreed, despite feeling as though maybe he was taking too long. Had Harsh been this shaken up when he first became a vampire? How long did it take him to stop feeling nervous, and scared? But he did have time, an awful lot of time, and somebody willing to be patient with him. Maybe it was better this way. Maybe, for the first time in his life, he was being forced to process change in a healthy manner. “Thank you…” He added, struck by a sudden sense of gratitude. “I mean, I know I say that enough for the phrase to lose all meaning but I do still mean it.” Taking another mouthful of stir fry, chewing it for longer this time to see if he could bring out any more flavour, he used his fork to push the food around his plate, listening as Harsh began to elaborate on Spawn. The subject made him uncomfortable for so many reasons. Because it made him anxious knowing he could have become one, because it upset him to know other people were suffering, because there was no way to save them, or teach them how to live again. It was over. It was a fate worse than death.

Letting out a quiet huff of breath, he hesitantly glanced back up at his friend. They meant for this to happen. It was one thing to draw a conclusion himself, another thing entirely for Harsh to tell him he was right. There was no room for doubt, his roommate was speaking the truth. But that only left him with more questions, questions he might never find answers to. “Yeah, well… fuck him, right?” He muttered, wishing he could say the words and miraculously let go of his trauma. Even though speaking them did offer him a degree of satisfaction, it was never going to be quite that easy. Raising his eyebrows as Harsh seemed to wince at the mention of sunlight, he was so relieved for the distraction that he found himself resisting the urge to laugh. It wouldn’t exactly be appropriate until he understood the context, until he knew what Harsh had been through to warrant such a reaction. But a vampire being so averse to sunlight that he didn’t even like somebody mentioning the sun was amusing. He couldn’t pretend otherwise. “Right,” he nodded, a smile tugging at his lips. “Like an ant under a magnifying glass, jeez…” Repressing a shudder, he made the conscious decision not to dwell on the information. He could truly consider everything he had learned in the morning, when he was curling up in bed, alone, and safe underneath his comforter. Now he only wanted to enjoy an evening with Harsh, his roommate, his friend… his mentor? It was true, he wasn’t sure where he would be without him. But he did know, all things considered, that he was more than content with where he had ended up.

#drug abuse tw #drug use tw #medical blood tw #drug manipulation tw #overdose tw #needles tw #milo and harsh #c:harsh

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hitchell-mope · 5 years ago

Text

(Film three. After “pirates medley”. The hook sisters have just run into an alleyway near the marketplace)

Harriet: ya shouldna done kiddo

Cj: why not.

Harriet: because it wasn’t a good move

Cj: you might like men drooling all over you but I hate it.

Harriet: you agreed to it.

Cj: I didn’t think they’d try that. So I’d apprecrie you dispensing with the victim blaming if you please.

Harriet: yeah yeah whatever. Lookee o’er there

Cj: aw FUCK!

(They’ve just spotted chadeficent and Ursula some ways away)

Harriet: SEA WITCH!

Ursula: oh god. (Fake smile) Harriet! To what do I owe the

(Cj shoots her in the stomach with a blunderbuss)

The sisters: where is he.

(Ursula straightens up and the bullet flies out of her stomach hitting some poor sap in the head)

Chadeficent: that was Balthazar yes?

The other three: who the hell cares?

Harriet: where is my brother?

Ursula: hmmmmm. Dunno don’t care. That work for you?

(Harriet lunges are the sea witch but Cj holds her back. While this is happening Hadie poofs back in slightly singed and very pissed off)

Hadie: for the record Rodan. I don’t appreciate being sent to Dark Mountain. Chernabog may be insultingly attractive but he’s far too fatherly for my tastes.

Cj: shove off spawn. There’s more important matters at hand

(Hadie chuckles sinisterly. Then force chokes the sisters)

Hadie: oh look at that. Fragile necks and bravado are such an inexplicable combination. And as you will see very soon. Deadly

Harriet: he.. he he mi...dea.

Cj: he...gone

Hadie: what? What’re you talking about?

Chadeficent: oh I think you know

(Hadie’s eyes glow bright grey. He drops the sisters, takes out a silver knife and throws it at Ursula. It slashes her cheek)

Hadie: ever heard of phlegathon tempered steel? It cuts you. Then heals you. But keeps you in burning unbearable pain. Until such time the wielder chooses to release you from it.

(Ursula’s cheek is starting to burn. Steam is curling from the edges of the cut)

Ursula: I was exiled from Atlantica. Whatever petty wound you deal me is of no consequence.

Hadie: yeah but (he sighs) cut you enough and it burns away your very being. So. What’ll it be bitch?

(Ursula growls in irritation and disappears in a torrent of water)

Hadie: now that that’s over oh cripes they’re gone.

(Chadeficent and the girls have left the scene. At the Jolly Roger Hook is waiting on deck)

Hook: GIRLS! What the hell have you been doing. Dukes is dead. And the men say you killed him Cj. If you keep doing this you’ll never land a husband.

Cj: aye. And what of it father?

Harriet: oh god not now.

Cj: yes now. Our brother has been missing for a year now and may as well be dead and all he cares about is his disgusting heterosexual misogynistic bastards of a crew

Harriet (coughing): code red. Code red

Hook: what’re you saying Cj?

Cj: what d’you think I’m saying dad?

Hook: it sounds as though you’re thinking to much like your freak of a brother

Harriet: Harry was bisexual pops

Hook: like I said. A freak. Men are with women. Women are with men. It’s the law of the world. And I expect my children abide by that

Cj: yes and when they don’t you cast them out and they need to take refuge somewhere else. Say a restaurant run by a squid

Hook: if you have something to say then say it.

Cj: ok. I like girls. Always have. Always will. And you cannae change it or me

(Starkey hobbles outside with a tea set. Sees the family feud. Starts to make his way back inside)

Hook: STARKEY! Did you know about Cj’s affliction

Cj: oh here we go

Starkey (diplomatically): uhhhh. I believe that. She. Wanted

Cj: it’s ok uncle Starkey. I told him last year. Considering he was the one that raised me while you were brainswashing Harriet into being Captain Hook 2.0 and Harry was fuck knows were trying to get Tick Tock to chomp his hand off in a vain attempt to get your approval!!!!

Hook: in time this will pass and you’ll be just like your sister

Cj (scoffing): of course. Be like Harriet. The pretty one. The smart one. The obedient one.

Harriet (for once very sheepish): Ceej. Could ya please lemme outta this?

Cj: no. He’s always wanted me to be like you. But guess what. I’m never gonna be who you want me to be

(This is when “sit still look pretty” happens. After the song Cj storms off)

Hook: and do you have any oddities you’d like to share Harriet? Because if so nows the time

Harriet: yes. As a matter of fact I do. For the past seven years I’ve been in uh heh “cahoots” with Gaston junior.

Hook: like the freak and the pansy

Harriet: sort of. Except theirs was more emotional. Ours is. Purely on the physical side. And yes. I’m the boss.

(Hook goes puce)

Harriet: uncle Starkey. I’ll be back presently

(She runs after her sister)

Hook: take me back to my quarters Starkey

Starkey: of course sir.

(He wheels the captain back in side. Harriet catches up with Cj. She finds her in an alleyway surrounded by the felled bodies of ten dogs and one cat)

Harriet: what the hell did you do.

Cj: the one thing I ever got from him, that wasn’t a hand me down from you or Har, was this.

(She holds up a whistle)

Harriet: wow

Cj: yep. Turns out it’s a dog whistle. Which pretty succinctly explains how the bastards could hear it all the way across Neverland when Jane found the treasure

Harriet: and the morbidly obese demon on four legs?

Cj: Tremaine’s moggy

Harriet: right. What you did was incredibly brave you know.

Cj: I don’t like animals.

Harriet: I meant what happened at home just now

Cj: I know. Like I said. I don’t like animals.

(At the core fours old apartment chadeficent has just arrived. Only to see Jafar watching tv)

Chadeficent: hello worthless. Miss me?

Jafar: who...?

Chadeficent (Maleficent’s voice): this better?

Jafar (exasperated): you couldn’t have taken control of a pretty one?

Chadeficent (Chad’s voice): fuck off you crypt keeper

(Jafar looks taken aback)

Chadeficent: bugs are to be worked out

Jafar: what is it?

Chadeficent: spawn of Cinderella

Jafar: you couldn’t have got the ash girl herself?

Chadeficent: too strong willed (Chad’s indignant voice) hey! (Maleficent’s voice) SILENCE! (Both voices) I am creating a cult. To destroy our children. Ursula is aboard. What say you?

(The next morning. At Evie’s palce)

Mal:...and Ben found them this morning passed out on the couch with like eight tubs of deluxe rocky road ice scattered at round.

Jay: deluxe?

Mal: chocolate marshmallow ice cream instead of chocolate ice cream

Jay (hopefully): Christmas list?

Mal (generating a tin with magic): why wait?

Jay: ooh yay!

Evie: AH! No. Not yet

Jay: awww. I’ve been here for an hour

Mal: let the man eat sis. It’s the least you can do since you are stabbing him with pins when you could just use 🎶🎶magic🎶. By the way. Your hair remarkably black today

Evie (snarling): get outta workshop

(Mal leaves cackling. She goes to the kitchen where Carlos is giving a plate the thousand yard stare)

Mal: hey kiddo. What’s up?

Carlos (softly with a lot of feeling): the cake...it’s gone. An entire macadamia nut chocolate sponge cake. Gone. How? There was enough for fifty people to have two slices each. And it’s all gone. How can it all be gone?

(The twins and Gil come racing pass the room screeching at the top of their lungs with food all around their mouths)

Mal (aside to Carlos): I think I know. (Normal volume). Gil! Could you bring the kids in here please?

(Gil troops back to the kitchen with the twins trailing behind. All three look terrified. Carlos and Mal lift the twins up onto the counter)

Mal (“mom” voice in full effect): now boys. Did you ask your papa to get the cake from the fridge?

Twins: uhhhh...

Mal: it’s ok. I’m not mad. I just wanna. If it was you then that’s ok. If it was Dude then we need to get him to a veterinarian.

Carlos: WHAT?!?!

Mal: oh shit. Sorry honey.

Carlos: listen to me you rotten little————(the twins look at him with the epitome of puppy eyed innocence) 🎶dad. Where are you. You’re good with this type of stuff🎶

Mal: paperwork

Carlos: fuck

Gil: it was us. Squeaky wanted a snack and I couldn’t find anything in the fridge but the cake. We only meant to share a corner but Celia oh crap

Mal: 🎶oh Celia🎶

(The girl melts out from the shadows clutching her stomach)

Mal: did you help Gil and the twins eat the entirety of Jane’s birthday cake?

Celia: if I says yes what would you do.

Mal: give you an antacid and advise you to take it easy with the party food.

Celia: then yes. I helped.

Mal: come on then.

(They head to the bathroom. But Mal’s phone starts ringing)

Mal: it’s Ben. Do you know how to get to the bathroom?

Celia: Dizzy sent me a schematic last night

Mal: good. That’s good. If evo finds out I will plead the fifth. You do know that don’t you?

Celia: wouldn’t expect anything less. See ya

(She runs off)

Mal (answering her cell phone): hello your majesty. Any idea on your eta or should I send your apologies to Jane?

Ben: I wish I was close to being done. But there are so many papers to get through and there’s no use in denying it. People are terrified at what ever killed the guards.

Mal: I could come and help you?

Ben: no. Definitely not. Go have fun. Do the routine.

Mal: but you’ll miss it. Though a private rendition for your eyes only could also be very interes-

Cogsworth: ahem hello my lady

Mal (trying not to laugh): sorry Carlton.

Cogsworth: that’s quite alright dear. I’ll just uh go ahem away

(He leaves and bal bursts into laughter)

Mal: oh that was oh god that

Ben: I I’m so sorry

Mal: don’t be. Just sorted a domestic so a I needed a laugh

(As they’re talking Mal’s walking outside)

Mal: what on the office menu today

Ben: chargrilled Damon foie gras and quinoa

Mal: what no pizza?

Ben: fraid not

Mal: I can always zap you some sausage rolls and mac and cheese cupcakes from the party

Ben: please and thank you?

Mal: and the new cake

Ben: Celia?

Mal: along with your brother and nephews. Carlos was not happy

Ben: of course.

Mal: hey, was chad supposed to meet us at Evie’s?

Ben: I don’t think so. Is he there?

Mal: yeah. Looking like the shalka Doctor.

Ben: oh.

Mal: I’ll go see what he wants

Ben: be careful. Love ya

Mal: always am. Love you too.

(She hangs up)

Mal: hey chad. Whatcha doing

(Chadeficent turns to look at her. Their eyes glow black. And Mal enacts the safety protocols on the house keeping everyone else inside and safe)

Mal: what did you do?

Chadeficent (Maleficent’s voice): oh it’s not chad. Hello my sweet

Mal (breathing heavily): Maleficent?

Chadeficent: mhmm. Now give me my sceptre

Mal: what did you do to him?

Chadeficent: he is simply a mindless hormone driven teenage boy

Mal: yeah, I know, he’s an dickhead. Nobody likes him. At all

Chadeficent (Chad’s voice, very, very hurt): they don’t?

Mal: yeah. You’re insufferable.

Chadeficent (Maleficent’s voice): ENOUGH! Give me the sceptre

Mal: you stole the wand didn’t you. And the staff and the mirror. So why do you need the sceptre.

Chadeficent: I want everything of importance (Chad’s voice) I wanna be king (Maleficent’s voice) I want my daughter back

Mal: I’m not your daughter. And chad you hate magic. Why would you use it to be king?

Chadeficent (Chad’s voice): I uh I dunno (Maleficent’s voice) he was easily bought with a butter finger and empty promises I have absolutely no intention on fulfilling. Now. The sceptre.

Mal (mind working a mile a minute): h how, how about a story. And I can make you a cup of tea yeah? Or coffeee?

Chadeficent (Chad’s voice): ooh beer (Maleficent’s voice) very well. But be quick about it

Mal: ok. Ok um

(She turns to the drinks table. This is when “she’s so gone” happens. After which Chadeficent picks her up from the splintered table by the neck)

Mal: why...are..you...doing...this?

Chadeficent (Chad’s voice): you don’t deserve this. None of it. You belong on that slag heap. You deserve to rot. To be forgotten. I want you all dead. Don’t you see? You can’t be queen. It’s not right. Audrey should be queen. And I should be king

Mal: but...Ben

Chadeficent (still Chad’s voice): ALL OF YOU WILL DIE. YOU. THE MAGIC PEOPLE THE RUNT THE CHICKS THE TRAIOR THE FREAK OF A DWARF. ALL OF YOU. DEAD (Maleficent’s voice) as for me. I want to break you. For you to see how useless you truly are without me.

Mal (turning purple in the face now): get...bent

(Chadeficent drops her and pulls out the wand)

Chadeficent (Chad’s voice): there’s never been an ugly bitch who’s been queen. Looks are everything. Bibbidi bobbidi boo

(Mal is washed is black light which solidified into a black cloak. The houses doors are blasted off their hinges and jay stands there completely gold and absolutely buzzing with power. Chadeficent cackles as they disappear in black smoke. Jay and the others rush to Mal’s side)

Carlos: oh my god! Mom are you ok?

Mal (voice hoarse thin and cracked): yes ahem yes ye yeah. What the hells wrong with my voice

(Evie takes the hood off of Mal and cackles)

Evie: HAHAHAHAHAHAHA! OH MY GOD! YOU LOOK LIKE

Jay (unimpressed with her behaviour): your mother. When she gave the apple to Doug’s aunt

(Evie stops cackling)

Carlos: what happened

Mal: Chad’s possessed by Maleficent. He wants to kill us all and be king

Carlos: and goat lady?

Mal: wants to break me

Evie: so what do we do

Celia: isn’t it obvious? Hades. Your father.

Evie: he is not

Celia: Mal was right and you know it. So stop pissing about and help me get your sister inside the house so she can get some proper clothes on cause an old lady in a minidress is not a good look. I should know. Cruella used to come to the arcade in the warm days. It’s was horrifying. Thank you Carlos for killing her last year by the way

Carlos: much obliged Ceels.

(Mal’s phone rings again. This time Carlos is the one to answer it)

Carlos: hi yes dad. Ok brace yourself. Chad has the wand. He’s possessed by Maleficent. He wants us all dead. Barricade yourself in your office. Emergency protocols. All that shizz. You have magic so you should be fine. We’re gonna stop them. It’s what we do. Us too (he ends the call) that’s dad sorted. Now how do we fix mom?

Celia: go to the island. Get the ember. Come back here. Kick him in the balls until he’s exorcised

Mal: Gil. You coming with us?

Gil: I would but. My boys

Doug: I’ll stay with them. I have my exosuit. I’ll keep them safe. I promise you I will

Gil: ok

Evie: oh my god!

Doug: our kid is fine. She’s with Lonnie and Jane. You know. A badass and a light fairy.

Evie: oh thank god

Jay: so we all know what we’re doing. Action time?

All the others: action time

Squirmy: AAAAAH

Gil (panicky): what? What is it? What’s wrong

Squirmy: I want to give the pretty lady my present

(He holds up a bouquet of periwinkle blue tulips. Everyone relaxes)

Gil: Jane will love them. But it could be a good idea to keep them here. Just until we’re all back together. Yeah?

Squirmy (unhappily): yeah

Doug: c’mon boys. You can help me bake a new cake.

The twins: YAAAAAAAAY

(They run back in. Evie goes up and embraces Doug)

Evie: we’ll be back soon as possible

Doug: take however long you need. I stabbed someon in the junk last year. I can defend myself

Evie: oh I know that. It’s just that

Doug: Evie sweetie. Look at me. I’ll be fine. I promise. And if I need to reach you there’s our phones the the psychic link you set up.

Evie (voice breaking): I...

Doug (understandingly): me too. Now let’s go

(They all run back into the house except for one)

Mal: uh. Guys

Jay: oh. Right

(He runs back and carries her to the house)

Mal: watch the hip. Watch the hip

Jay: yeah yeah yeah.

Celia: so do we get the the island. The limos?

Evie: no. They’re all the the school garages until next week.

Celia: then we’re screwed?

Mal: not entirely

Jaylos and Evie: THE BIKES

Celia: what?

Mal: how I left last year

(At the cliff site. The six of them are on their bikes. Celia’s hanging on to Gil)

Carlos: go on mom

Mal (voice still croaky): noble steed proud and fair/you shall take us anywhere

(They drive over the magic bridge to the island. Back in Auradon Chadeficent is making their way to Jane’s birthday party)

Chadeficent (Maleficent’s voice): are you sure this shall work? (Chad’s voice) it had better. They all deserve it for hating me

#disney descendants #zendaya!mal

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blaineandsamevanderson · 7 years ago

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Title: Winnamon Buns Chapter 2

By: @blaineandsamevanderson (SageK on ff.net, kaitlia777 on LJ and AO3)

Fandom: Supergirl

Rating: PG

Summary: Winn Schott Jr. owns a bakery called Winnamon Buns (named for a comment made by his buddy Mon-El the first time he tried Winn’s Cinnamon Buns). Kara Danvers is a customer he has a crush on…and, unbeknownst to him, she returns the feelings. Only Kara thinks WInn and Mon-El are a couple and Winn thinks Kara and Jimmy are….

“Wow, I guess this place must be good,” Alex mused, noting the lines of customers crowding the small bakery. It was a cute little shop and the small rainbow sticker in the corner of the front window had been welcoming.

Beside her, Maggie chuckled. “Well, school just let out. I think there are a lot of kids just looking for their sugar/caffeine fix.”

True enough. There was definitely a pack of high school aged girls clustered around the counter, vying for the attention of the tall model standard barista. At the other end of the counter, a nice looking shorter man (Winn, according to Kara) was handling the rest of the customers.

Unsure of the protocol for this, they waited in line until they reached the front. Fortunately, some of the crowd had left by then. “Hi, I’m Alex and this is my fiancee, Maggie. We’re here for a cake consultation.”

Winn’s blue eyes brightened and he gave them a broad grin. “Hi...and congratulations! Of course, we can have a seat at one of the tables, chat a bit about what sort of cake you see for your big day.”

As he spoke, a young teen emerged from the back, tying an apron around his waist. “Carter, just in time, Man. You hold things down here and keep an eye on Mon-El while I help these nice folks, okay?” The boy nodded in response and Winn snagged a towel to wipe his hands as he addressed Alex again, “Can I get either of you anything to drink?”

Minutes later, they were settled at a small table by the windows, coffees and a small plate of thumbprint cookies between them.

“My sister can’t say enough good things about this place,” Alex mentioned as Winn pulled out a small tablet. “Kara comes in every day.”

Interestingly enough, a faint blush crept up the young man’s face. “Oh, you’re Kara’s sister? She’s great. Just...super.”

Aw, he was an awkward puppy.

“This cookie is incredible,” Maggie retorted and Alex noted that two had already disappeared from the plate.

Another good sign.

“Thanks,” Winn said brightly, tapping at his tablet. “So, did you have any ideas about flavors you’re interested in or would you like to go over all the options?”

“That’s a good plan,” Winn said with a genial smile. “Honestly, a lot of people come in with their hearts set on a particular cake and still want to go through the list, see the portfolio. When’s the big day?”

“June 23rd,” Maggie informed him promptly. “Is that enough time for a cake? Those wedding shows on TV all make it seem like plans are made a year in advance or last minute.”

“You’re fine,” he chuckled. “That’s more than enough lead time and I’ve got no other bookings that day. Is the venue local?”

Alex nodded. “We’re having the wedding and reception at the public gardens.” It was a popular spot for weddings from May to October and had designated areas for such things.

“Beautiful place,” the baker enthused. “I’ve faltered there before, nice set up. So...let’s talk cake. Anyone have a favorite?”

“Tiramisu?” Maggie asked hopefully and Alex rolled her eyes fondly.

“For a wedding cake?” She said in amusement. “I always think vanilla when I think of a big wedding cake.”

“There are lots of ways to go, none of them wrong,” Winn offered. “You could have a tiramisu tier.”

That perked Maggie up. “Go on.”

“Not all the tiers need to be the same flavor,” he said and Alex was pretty sure she’d hknown that. Why did planning a wedding make things like that just fly out of her brain? “So, if you wanted a vanilla base, a Tiramisu s middle and an espresso top, that would work...or any combination really. It’s your day.”

Alex let her eyes wander down the menu options. “A lot of this looks good.”

He grinned. “You know, we’re doing a tasting event here on Friday evening. If you want to stop by, you can sample a lot of options,” Winn offered. “It’s more of a social event, I think Kara and James are coming. Of course, if you’d rather a more private sitting we can arrange…”

“We’ll be here Friday!”

Who would put off trying cake?

Only a ½ hour into the cake tasting and Winn was ready to declare the event a success. He’d been hoping to bring in some new customers (and let his regulars taste some less common flavors) and he’d seen a flood of new faces. They’d booked several birthday cakes and had 4 new bridal consults.

He was glad he’d baked more than he’d anticipated serving.

“I like this one.”

He’d just set down a tray of assorted lime cakes with coconut buttercream frosting and pear ca=new with honey buttercream when Alex Danvers popped up at his elbow, thrusting a small plate (and a half eaten sample) at him.

“Alex!” Kara chided. “Don’t just jump at him like that.

The elder Danvers was unapologetic. “I wanted to tell him before he disappeared or got grabbed by someone else.

Tablet in hand, Winn noted, “So...Vanilla bean cake with a layer of berries and cream, topped with vanilla buttercream?”

“I still want the tiramisu tier but if the bottom and top are that, I’m happy,” Maggie agreed before snagging a Banana/Pineapple sample.

“Three tiers, the design we talked about and now we’ve got flavors...Ladies, you have a cake!” He said, then his eyes ticked to the side and he sighed. “Excuse me...Carter’s along over there, gotta go find Mon-El.”

He’d rather stay and chat with Kara, but this was his business. “Where’s Mon-El?” Winn asked as he slipped behind the table, grateful to see the sample trays weren’t completely empty.

“He went out back to get more cakes, but Imra went to help, so….,” Carter trailed off, shrugging and wrinkling his nose.

Winn groaned. “I’ll be back.”

Thankfully the wayward doh were only making out and not doing anything that violated health codes in his kitchen and they all quickly emerged baring fresh trays of treats.

“Do you cater for companies,” a stunning brunette asked, nibbling on a chocolate cake with cappuccino buttercream. “I would so put in a standing order for a dozen of these for the CatCo Megan department every morning.”

“I told you this place is great,” James said, appearing and sliding an arm around the woman’s waist. “Lucy, meet Winn. Winn, my girlfriend, Lucy Lane.”

While Winn was startled silent, Lucy laughed. “I should be mad at you for enabling this one’s sweet tooth...but wow, these are incredible.”

“I’m glad you’re enjoying everything,” Winn said, still recovering from the fact that Mon-El had been right about James having a non-Kara girlfriend. “And sure, we could have an order ready for pick up each morning. I assume you’re wanting cupcakes and not a dozen whole cakes?”

Lucy laughed prettily. “Sorry. I was actually wondering about the potato doughnuts.” She pointed to a slightly less ravaged tray. “I love the density. Most doughnuts feel like empty calories. Those seem like they’re actually filling.”

They chatted about the doughnuts for a while before he was drawn off by another new customer.

***

By the end of the night, most of the crowd had dissipated. Winn, Mon-El and even Carter were still taking down a few final orders and she was Winn sigh with relief when he finally tucked his tablet away.

“Tonight was a hit!” She said and Winn gave her a bright smile.

“Oh yeah, we’re gonna be busy,” he said, but Kara could hear the pleasure in his voice. “Hey, thanks for referring your sister.”

Kara glanced over to where Alex and Maggie were chatting with James and Lucy over a mostly empty tray of pecan cakes. “I wouldn’t be surprised if they send their co-workers by. They’re both in law enforcement.”

Winn chuckled. “I do make a killer doughnut.”

A kitchen towel landed on his head as Mon-El teased, “Your jokes are terrible!”

The pretty brunette with his slapped Mon-El’s arm as Winn shrugged off the towel. “Keep him in line, Imra!” He said easily and earned a salute from the woman as the pair disappeared into the kitchen. “You know, I think he’s finally met his match.”

His statement made Kara frown in confusion. “What do you mean?”

Chucking a thumb toward the back, Winn said, “I kinda though he’d never settle down, but Imra seems up to take him on.”

After a moment Kara blinked. “Oh! Oh my gosh, I thought you two were together!”

Immediately, she clapped a hand over her mouth, embarrassed that she’d said anything, but Winn merely chuckled. “Nah...a lot of people assume that for some reason. He’s a ladies man and me...well, I’m better with cakes than flirting.”

“I know,” Kara agreed, then shook her head. “I mean, flirting is hard. I always say the wrong thing or get called away for work.”

He nodded. “Plus a lot of dating happens at night and I get up very early so...my idea of a wild night is Chinese, Netflix and early bed.”

“Lunch dates get a bad rap,” she mused. “Lunch is great. Or brunch, cuz then you have the option of breakfast or lunch.”

“Kara...and you can say no, of course, but...would you like to have lunch some time?” Winn asked, tongue poking out to wet his lower lip nervously.

A broad smile spread across Kara’s face as she nodded. “Yeah. I’d like that, Winn. I’d like that a lot.”

****

Across the room, James smiled and pulled out his phone, sending a text to Mon-El.

He asked her.

James was the only one who understood when a loud cry of ,” Whooo, finally!” Echoed from the kitchen.

#winnara #fanfiction #karwinn #fic

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onelastfic · 8 years ago

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Overtime at the Office (Democratic Republicans x Reader)

A/N: Congratulations to @ziggyd94-blog-blog for being my 500th follower! 😁 To celebrate reaching 500 followers I’m starting my new NSFW Democratic Republicans x Reader series! This is my first fic about the Democratic Republicans so I hope I got them right. Please enjoy~ ———— You sat at your desk in Jefferson & Associates, Lawyers, and Solicitors, waiting for your work day to end so you can go home a finish the assignment that laid on your kitchen table.

It was hard to juggle a legal secretary job and studying to become a full-blown lawyer but you had somehow managed to do it. Mostly by spending your nights studying to get your degree and to pass the Bar Exam.

This one assignment was giving you a particularly hard time. Then again so was your huge crush on the two guys you worked for. The ‘Associates’ in ‘Jefferson & Associates’: James Madison & Aaron Burr.

They were both incredibly attractive males wrapped in Armani suits that drove expensive cars and lived in luxury apartments.

While you lived in small matchbox sized studio apartment with paper thin walls. That was one of the reasons you needed to get your degree and become a lawyer. (Also to help people with their legal issues.)

You heard the deep voices of Aaron and James coming down the hall to your tiny cubicle that every legal secretary was given when hired. The most of the other secretaries were also attracted to the two men, but for some reason they always seemed to focus in on you.

“Coming to lunch, (Y/N)?” Aaron asked, a twinkle in his eyes.

You looked up at him with a smile. “I’ll be right there, just gotta send this email.”

You quickly clicked send and gathered up your things, walking with Aaron to the elevators.

It was just the two of you alone in the enclosed space, you nearly jumped out of your skin when you felt his fingers on your butt. You brushed it off as an accident but the dirty part of your mind hoped that it was intentional. You distracted yourself with small talk. To your surprise, James was waiting for you.

“Hello (Y/N), looking very nice as always.” James politely said to you as he escorted you to his BMW. You felt your face heat up as beside you, his large hand on the small of your back. You slipped into the backseat, while Aaron took the front with James.

James drove to a ritzy cafe, that you could never hope to afford to go to on a regular basis with your current secretary salary.

You ended up ordering the cheapest thing on the menu, a grilled ham and swiss sandwich. James laughed and told you to order anything you wanted, it was on him. You furrowed your brows at him.

“What’s the catch?”

“You’ll owe me one.” He said with a small smile and a caress across the back of your hand that you couldn’t dismiss easily. You blushed.

“Will you accept sexual favours as payment?” You joked.

“I have no problem with that.” James stated.

“No problem with what?” Aaron said, sitting down at the table with a cup of coffee.

“Sexual favours.” James repeated with a calm smile.

“Oh really~” Aaron gave you a grin.

“Hey I’m not just giving them away…” You said in mock resentment. “It’s an exchange…James was sweet enough to buy me lunch.”

“And I’m paying for your drink.” Aaron commented as he waved the waiter down for another cup of coffee for me. “Do I get repaid in sexual favors as well?” he smirked at you and then James.

“So… What exactly are the terms of these favours in repayment for our kindness?” Aaron asked, leaning back against the back of his chair while James leaned over the table, both seemed in loom over you.

‘Holy…WTF?!’ You thought. There’s no way that they were seriously considering it…could they? With you? How should you respond? Take it seriously or brush it off like a joke?

Aaron smiled, and James raised his eyebrows. “I think a threesome would suffice, what do you say James?”

James nodded, taking a sip of his tea. “Definitely a sufficient choice. I’ve had a few experiences before and I could deal with you, Aaron, as long as (Y/N) is there as well.”

You stared at them both, mentally picturing the three of you together. Your naked bodies squirming, tangled in sheets, arms, and legs, heavy moans and hot carnal whispering ran through your mind, making your panties damp. You crossed your legs feeling a bit awkward having their hot stares on you.

“Uhm…” You spoke, not able to come up with anything else.

“I think we broke her…” Aaron said.

“Not yet, we haven’t.” James said with a smirk.

Thankfully the food finally came and you were able to busy yourself from the debauched thoughts of a threesome that Aaron Burr and James Madison had put in your head. You cheeks flushed, keeping your gaze on the sandwich in your hands as you three talked business, occasionally getting a glance your way or a mention about the threesome.

After you finished your lunches and James and Aaron paid for the meal, you rode back to work in a sexually charged silence. You got into the elevator with them, the two of them next to you, James on one side, Aaron on the other. They got closer as more people from different departments got on the elevator.

Two hands reached and cupped themselves over your ass. Your cheeks went red and your body tingled, nipples hardening inside your thinly padded bra. Apparently too thin, because you could feel the little display you were giving them.

As the elevator emptied and left the three of you alone, the doors closed on the seventh floor, you yelped as James’ hand gripped your left cheek in a strong grip. You felt his hot breath against your ear, making your heart to flutter and your pussy to cry out in need as it begged between your legs.

“So, how about it? We could go back to my place after work, I have a super-king sized bed that can easily fit all of us…” he smiled.

Aaron wasn’t letting up either, feeling his hand caress and rub the cheek he had grabbed, moving down and under the swell of your posterior, getting dangerously closer to the more needy part of your anatomy. You shivered, desperately trying to hold yourself together.

“It is a tempting–VERY tempting-offer, but I have to decline, guys.” You said, trying hard to mask your disappointment. “I’m just too busy, with my classes, and assignments for my course and my work here, I just don’t have the time.”

The elevator doors opened on your floor and you quickly made your escape, turning back just in time to see the sad puppy dog eyes that they were making, you could swear that James even whimpered as the doors closed.

You shook your head, clearing away the desires, and straightened your clothes out before heading back to your cubicle. ——— Watching the tick-tock of a clock had never been a favorite hobby of yours, but when you had all your work done and was ready to hurry home to work on that stupid assignment there was no helping it.

You were jolted from your thoughts about the assignment you had barely worked on that was due in two days and the naughtier imaginings that took root from the seeds that the two associates had planted in your mind over lunch by the distinctive ring of your desk phone.

Your body was still wound up tighter than a spring toy with the desire for sexual release because of those two. Looks like your trusty vibrator will be getting quite the workout when you got home.

You answered the phone, it was Mr Jefferson.

“Good day, Mr Jefferson.”

“Good day, (Y/N), I was hoping you could do some overtime today, we have a very important client coming in for a meeting after work and I need you to take the minutes of that meeting.” His deep voice made me shiver, it was bad enough working with James and Aaron, two of the hottest men you’d ever come across, but when you put Mr Jefferson into the picture, it was three levels of sexiness that no man or woman would be able to resist.

“Of course, Mr Jefferson.” You answered, “Which conference room will we be using?“

You would have to set up the room, lay out a pitcher of water and some glasses and get everyone coffee before the meeting started, the usual secretary stuff. It might not seem like a big deal, but it was very important in the world of business.

“Fantastic, it’ll be in conference room 2A and thanks for staying late.” Mr Jefferson said, before hanging up.

You looked at the clock, it was close to six, the rest of your co-workers around you were already getting ready the end of the day, finishing their filing and saving documents. You stood up and put the files away, shut down your computer and headed to the office kitchen.

You filled the pitcher with water from the cooler. A pat on your bum made you jump, making the water spill over the floor as I jumped in fright. You looked to see James behind you.

“Crap.” I muttered, turning around to confront James. He smiled sheepishly. “Sorry, but I couldn’t help myself, you just have the most tantalizing rear.” He said smiling, leaning in against you, his breath radiating against your skin. “And hopefully one day, I’m going to have the pleasure of eating it.” His voice was thick with lust. You turned away, harshly biting your bottom lip as your overexcited mind sent jolts to your pussy.

You shivered when he left, the cold air of the air-conditioning leaving you cool and desiring for the warmth of a man pressed against you. You quickly went about setting up the small conference room for the meeting with the client.

Just as you were wiping down the table you could feel someone’s eyes on your form that was bent over the flat wooden surface, reaching out to the other side of the table with the cloth. You straightened up and looked over your shoulder.

Aaron was there, ogling at your ass. He smiled and left the doorway, leaving you with a bow and a lick of his lips that had you wondering when you’d ever have enough free time to take them up on their offer.

As the last of the staff left for the day, you finished preparing the room and brought your laptop in, setting it up and placing a couple of extra notepads and pens with ‘Jefferson & Associates’ on the pads, ready for use.

You heard the elevator door open and the voices of Mr Jefferson and another man echoed down the now quiet halls. Then you heard the unmistakable voices of two other men, Aaron and James. This had to be a really case case for all three of the top people in the firm to be involved.

Waiting patiently, and straightening up when the men entered, shaking hands with Senator Franklin, then taking your seat behind your laptop, typing up the minutes of the meeting, setting in the opening time and who was in attendance. All the legal stuff that protects ones ass in a sensitive cases like this one.

Mr Jefferson motioned for everyone to take their seats, then handed everyone some coffee. James and Aaron took the seats right beside you. They were so close you could feel their body heat against yours, even being able to feel the rising and falling of their chests with each breath.

And you definitely felt their hands, on your thighs.

The meeting began with the Senator thanking us for making the time to see him, knowing fully well that this issue could destroy his political career.

Mr Jefferson nodded knowingly and affirmed Senator Franklin that they would do everything that they could to help him, then he nodded to you to begin documenting the conversation.

You began to type and record the Senator’s story, James and Aaron still beside you, Aaron’s fingers gently caressing your thigh through your nylon thigh-highs. Your skirt thought it was a good idea to rise up to mid-thigh when you sat down as if it was in league with James and Aaron .

James’s fingers slipped under the hem of your skirt and bit by bit started to pull it up towards your hips. You did your best to ignore the two men aiming to get into your panties and be the professional you want to be.

You could feel your face begin to burn as their hands inched up higher on your thighs as Senator Franklin recounted the filthy details of how he had a crazy night with five college girls, and how one of them turned out to be a seventeen year old french exchange student that he had gotten pregnant even though she told him she was on birth control.

As the Senator went on, James and Aaron moved their hands higher and higher, fingers brushing, nails running along your skin. Arousing you, you kept yourself straight, your legs caged within the tight bounds of your skirt, James pulled it up a bit more, exposing your lace panties.

You could have sworn you had heard James give a sigh of happiness as his fingers drew around the edge of my panties. Aaron, not one to be left behind, slid his fingers under the edge of your panties, his exploring digits finding the mound of your pussy.

Your breath hitched and you started to cough as the spit you swallowed went down the wrong hole. Luckily your coughing fit was covered the extreme redness of your cheeks.

You reached for the glass of water that Mr Jefferson offered you, his index finger stroked your own. You thought you saw his eyes glimmer with something that made him look like a predator eying his prey.

You quickly downed your drink and then went back to taking the minutes. James and Aaron going back to their exploration of your pussy, being bolder with their moves as they slipped their fingers along your folds.

You lost track of how many spelling errors you made, to distracted with James and Aaron’s teasing of your lower lips. You even had to retype an entire passage after accidentally hitting the delete key. You forced yourself to focus but with two hot guys working your fold made it nearly impossible. You was so horny and wet that you were sure Mr. Jefferson could smell the scent of your heat mixing with the coffee aroma in the room.

All you actually wanted to do was push the laptop off the table, bend your horny self over that table, pull up your skirt, and order them to finish you off with their cocks.

But no… the two bastards had to slip their fingers right into your wet pussy. Just as the Senator was finishing up his story and leaving. You couldn’t hold it anymore, letting out a tiny moan as Aaron’s (or was it James’s?) finger tapped against g-spot.

Thankfully Mr Jefferson had led the Senator out of the room, but he came back into the room and looked at the three of us.

“I want to see you all in my office, we need to have a talk about teamwork.” He said, his voice low and meaningful. His eyes focused on you a little longer than on the two boys.

When he left, Aaron and James slipped their fingers out of your wet heat, getting you to mew softly at the loss of their gifted fingers. They slid their fingers, still glistening with your juices into their mouths and sucked them clean.

You hastily saved the file on the laptop before shutting it down, James and Aaron and their cocks had gotten up and were waiting for you beside the door to the hall. You put your laptop in your bag and followed them out, their hands on the small of your back, their hard and stiff cocks looking so huge in their Armani pants as they escorted you up to the top floor where Mr Jefferson’s office was.

#hamilton fic #hamilton fanfic #hamilton #thomas jefferson x reader #james madison x reader #thomas jefferson #james madison #aaron burr x reader #aaron burr #hamilton imagine #democratic republicans #southern motherfucking democratic republicans #democratic republicans x reader

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canaryatlaw · 7 years ago

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ok, long but good day. woke up to my alarm at 7:45, got up and got dressed, stuck the last of my toiletries in my suitcase and got an uber to the airport. Got there about 8:45, which was my goal time, so I was happy about that. got through security no problem, something I was like low key nervous about because I had originally thought the Real ID law going into effect meant I needed an enhanced driver’s license to use as ID, but I did a bunch of online research and knew that wasn’t the case, but was still a little worried about lol. I walk to my gate, which is allllll the way at the very end of the terminal. there’s a starbucks there, so I order a breakfast sandwich and a drink. I keep making the mistake of thinking that if a drink is on the app’s mobile ordering menu the barista will know how to make it, when that is clearly not the case. I asked for a “violet drink” which is the equivalent of “pink drink” but made with the berry hibiscus refresher instead of the strawberry acai refresher. but the cashier didn’t know what I was talking about so I just ended up with a normal berry hibiscus refresher 🤷🏻‍♀️ oh well. I sat for a while and used the free wifi while charging my phone on the conveniently located outlets, and in not too long they were boarding. My zone gets called, I swipe my boarding pass on my phone, and the lady is like “you’re good- oh wait no you’re not” because the machine was saying there was something wrong with my boarding pass and she was like “are you on standby?” and I was like....no....I bought this ticket a month ago I’m not on fucking standby. so she has me come around to the front of the desk and wait while she gets other people on the plane, where there are apparently other people waiting who also had boarding pass issues. At this point I’m fairly ticked off, and if I somehow don’t get on that plane I’m mentally planning what I can threaten to sue them over (clearly breach of contract, they made false promises that I relied upon to my detriment and I should be able to collect damages for the ticket prices and waste of my time), but then she types some things into the computer and gives me a paper boarding pass with a different seat number (which was exactly 5 rows in front of my original one). So I’m just like hey whatever, I don’t really care, just let me get on the plane, and if I don’t have to threaten to sue anybody than that’s good. So I boarded and got settled, opened the in flight magazine to see what sudoku they had going, they had easy and hard kenken puzzles, both of which I completed before the plane even pulled away from the gate 😂 (hashtag expert status) and I made pretty fast work of the easy sudoku puzzle before pulling out my phone and reading some fanfic I put on there forever, and then I was gonna start the stuff I loaded on it last night, but ended up wanting to reread one of Jess’ longer fics, and that pretty much took the rest of the time of the flight, lol. We landed at 1:30 NY time, I get off the plane and get my bag just fine, I’m texting my mom about where to meet her and I literally walk out of the airport just to see my mom driving by and I’m like, waving furiously trying to get her attention but NOPE she just keeps driving and I’m just like DAMMIT because if you’re familiar with laguardia airport you know they’re currently doing a massive construction project that has been making everyone’s life hell, so she had to do another full loop around to get back to where I was, which took another like, 15 minutes. So I finally get in the car and we start the drive home, my mom randomly pulls off the highway to this little town in search of somewhere she can get a green tea latte (which is apparently her thing now) and we end up in this adorable little place that’s billed as a coffee and ice cream shop but has a whole lot of interesting food options like fancy grilled cheeses and an assortment of belgian waffle flavors. And if you know me you know I’m obsessed with well-made belgian waffles, so I got a “churro” flavored one which was made with cinnamon in the batter, then topped with cinnamon sugar and vanilla ice cream, and damn I was pretty much in heaven. so we go back to the car and finish the drive home, pretty soon after we get there my mom has to take my sister to her therapy appointment (apparently she’s doing much better now than earlier in the year and my parents are very happy about it) so I was mostly alone and just did stuff on my computer for a while. eventually people returned and we decided to order pizza for dinner because my mom hadn’t been to the store and didn’t have anything to bake, so I called that in and the delivery guy came, and there was a very awkward exchange during which I was just standing there with the door open holding the collar of our golden retriever so he didn’t go run and jump on the delivery guy (he’s totally harmless, but he’s rather big and I know some people would not appreciate being jumped on) while my mom went upstairs to get money out of the sock (where my parents stash their cash) to pay for the pizza lol. But we got the pizza and paid for it successfully, and I put my piece under the broiler for a few minutes so the cheese gets nice and crispy and I’m in pizza heaven. dad comes home pretty soon and my mom pulls out some anchovies she was apparently saving for him (my favorite topping combo is pepperoni and anchovies, but I can’t really have pepperoni now so it just ends up being anchovies) so I had my second piece with them and it was very enjoyable. After dinner we just kind of chilled, me still on my laptop and the parents watching HGTV or whatever while the other siblings kind of milled about, and that ended up being out it for the night. we figured out train schedules to get me to the city tomorrow, the interview is at 11 and it’s about a 20 minute subway ride from penn station, so I’m gonna take the 8:30 train that gets in at 9:56 so I’ll surely have enough time to get there, even if everything goes haywire and I end up having to just hop in a cab or an uber (I’ve successfully navigated New York’s subway system before, once you’ve mastered one you can really figure out all of them, so I don’t expect anything to go wrong). the interview is supposed to last a little over an hour, and then I can take the train back home. It’s still been on my mind all day about whether it’s a job I want to take or not (assuming I get offered the job of course) and as much as it pains me to admit it because I’ve really, really liked my life in Chicago lately, I know this is the best opportunity for me and it’d be foolish not to take it when I don’t have any other possible offers or even interviews for any other job period, much less any job that actually deals with children. and like, I could make a job in a similar field like domestic violence work for a few years, but my heart wouldn't be in it (I mean, for DV in particular it is a cause I’m very much invested in so I would have my heart in it, but not the same way it’d be when it comes to kids where I really want to be) and it’d just be passing time until I can get hired at a job with kids. Right now I’m not crazy about the idea of being close to my family, even though they obviously REALLY want me back, and at one point in the past year I was convinced that it’s what I wanted to do and I probably accidentally got their hopes up on it, something has shifted, I don’t know what, but I’m not quite in that frame of mind anymore. I guess part of it is realizing that if I took this job in the city I don’t really have a group of friends there and I’m scared about being lonely, especially when my friend situation has been so great lately. So I don’t know. I think if it gets offered I’ll probably feel obliged to take it, but then I just have this overwhelming sense of foreboding of my time in Illinois and my time living this awesome life I’ve been living is going to be over, and like, that really sucks. But that’s about all I gotta say on that subject. Another thing worth noting that happened today though was I convinced my parents to pay, as my birthday gift, for me and Jess to go to Collective Con in Florida the weekend right before my birthday, because Brandon Routh and Courtney Ford are going to be there and we *obviously* need to take advantage of this and be able to experience seeing them as a couple outside of the show. I was pretty sure I could get my dad to go for it if I framed it right, so I looked up flights to make sure I got the absolute best prices (which were unfortunately still like $500 a pop, but there were ones that were much worse) and identified an airbnb and convention passes to give him a final number because I know that he’s more likely to approve stuff like that if I frame it the right way. So that’s gonna be coming up at the end of the month and I am SUPER psyched about that, we’re gonna fly out Friday morning and come back Monday morning, which is my birthday, and also the night “I, Ava” airs, then in two weeks we have C2E2 and HVFF Chicago, so it’s basically gonna be the best time ever and hopefully I won’t start flunking all of my classes because of it. But yeah, that was mostly my day. Hopefully tomorrow will go well. I’m always trying to think of questions to ask them because I know in job interviews they want you to have questions, but I always end up defaulting to like “what’s your favorite part about working here?” which I feel is kinda lame, so if any of you have ideas on that front, please hit me up with them by tomorrow morning lol. It’s almost 1:30 am now though and I have to be up at 7, so it is definitely time for me to go to bed. Goodnight my lovelies. Happy Friday.

#daily journal #March 2018

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thecoliverlibrary · 8 years ago

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Seven Year Itch

Gift Type: Fan Fiction Title: Seven Year Itch Author: @yesterdayiwrote Recipient: @shawnnhunter Rating: Teen+ Warnings: None Word Count: 2,009 Summary: They say that happiness in a relationship declines after around year seven of a marriage…. Author’s Note: Sorry it’s not your first choice request :( But hopefully it ticks some other boxes instead :)

Oliver stood in the kitchen, staring out longingly into the garden, unable to keep the disappointment at bay any longer. He’d been looking forward to tonight. It had been planned for ages, and now life had come back round to bite them in the ass.

It was stupid. It couldn’t be helped, and Oliver knew that, but that didn’t stop it stinging. They had responsibilities now, and they definitely came first, but it didn’t stop Oliver’s mind wandering to how they should be at that table in Moretti’s with a bottle of Pinot Noir and the most expensive steak on the menu. No expense spared. Fantasizing about how the night might have progressed.

Clasped hands across the table at dinner, hushed words, sealed with a kiss. A walk across town, wrapped up in each other, laughing, joking, rekindling how things used to be, the unspoken promise of more to come behind the privacy of closed doors. Everything could have been so perfect.

A pair of arms wrapped loosely around his waist, Oliver instantly melting into the embrace, coming back down to earth from his fantasy land. His anger and disappointment suddenly subsiding.

“All done!” Connor mumbled brightly, resting his chin on the other man’s shoulder, nipping gently at the crook of the other man’s neck eliciting a soft groan from Oliver’s lips.

“That was quick!” Oliver chuckled. “How are they?” he asked, turning the tap off and spinning back towards the other man, allowing himself to be crowded against the counter. Connor shrugged with a raised eyebrow, pulling a baby monitor from his front pocket, placing it on the black granite worktop. He let out a long sigh.

“Lexi’s trying to put a brave face on it but she took the Tylenol I gave her and went straight to sleep, No arguments.” He muttered, an almost unheard of sequence of events where their five year old was concerned. Bedtime often extended into an hour long affair, complete with stories, cuddles and a play by play recital of her entire days activities. “She really must be sick.” He added with a smirk.

“And Finn?” Oliver wandered across the kitchen and pulled open the fridge, reaching in and grabbing a bottle of wine. Connor winced slightly.

“His chest sounds so congested.” He paused. “I used those drops that the doctor gave us and he took his bottle but…” He tailed off. “I don’t know how long it will last.” He shrugged, throwing his hands up. “I guess we’ll have to wait and see… Did you order dinner?” He asked, watching as Oliver pulled glasses from the cupboard, nodding silently. He could see the tension in his shoulders. He recognised that suppressed annoyance anywhere. He knew all of Oliver’s little quirks like the back of his hand.

He reached out, grabbing Oliver’s hip as he passed him, pulling their bodies flush against each other. “Happy Anniversary, Ollie.” He whispered, his lips lingering mere millimeters from his husband’s, pulled into a dangerous smile.

“Happy Anniversary, Con.” Oliver chuckled, pecking the other man softly, pulling away with a teasing grin. He reached around Connor, grabbing for the corkscrew, ready to make light work of the wine bottle.

Connor stood back, watching the other guy pour the liquid between the two glasses. His lover, his partner. His significant other. The man who’s eyes he’d stared into so deeply, exactly seven years previously, and promised his life to so sincerely. A promise he still meant every word of to this day.

“Are you mad at me?” Connor asked softly, taking the glass Oliver held out to him. “I’ll make it up to you?” He promised. Oliver rolled his eyes, grabbing the bottle and striding over to the couch. Connor trailed behind, standing infront of the other man as he made himself comfortable. “We’ll go away?” He offered, holding his arms out. “My mum can have the kids for the weekend and we’ll go somewhere special. No kids, no flu, just you, me and a bottle of tequila?” He winked suggestively.

Oliver burst into giggles, shaking his head in disbelief.

“I’m not mad at you, Connor” He sighed, “None of this is your fault, just…. sit down you jackass.” He tutted, patting the empty space beside himself. Connor obliged, making himself comfortable before pulling Oliver against him, back to his chest.

“Is this how you thought we’d be spending our seventh anniversary?” Connor chuckled, “Cancelling our plans to play doctor to not one, but two sick children?” He paused. “Our children.” He reiterated, as if somehow still perplexed by parenthood. Oliver wrinkled his nose, taking a sip from his glass. He pulled his feet onto the couch, nestling comfortably into the younger man’s embrace.

“Meh, I didn’t think we’d be together this long?” He teased with a playful shrug.

“Ollie!” Connor whined with a jovial prod to the shoulder. He took a long sip from his glass. “Why would we not be?” He pouted. “I mean look at me?” He joked. “I’m a real catch. Good genes, good job, good sex…”

“Hmmm…” Oliver interrupted with a cocked eyebrow. “Sex?” He mumbled slowly. “I vaguely remember us doing something like that but it’s been so long….” He trailed off, ducking away from the thwack to his arm.

“Carry on like this and it’ll be a whole lot longer.” Connor pouted, taking another sip of wine. “It’s not exactly easy when you have a five year old who questions everything and a six month old who won’t stay sleeping for more than an hour.” He reasoned, instinctively pulling Oliver tighter against him. He paused. “You are happy though aren’t you?” He whispered. Oliver frowned, craning his neck in an attempt to see the other man’s face.

“Of course I am?” He spluttered. “What makes you ask that?” Connor shrugged bashfully.

“Well, you know what they say? Seven year itch and all that?” He croaked, unsurely. “You’d tell me if something wasn’t right, wouldn’t you?.” He mumbled with a slight blush, Connor had never quite become comfortable with expressing his true emotions.

Oliver chuckled. His husband could be adorable when he wanted to be. He turned slightly, placing a palm flat against Connor’s chest.

“You make me happier than I’ve ever been.” He purred, pressing another kiss to the other man’s lips. Deep and searching, Connor ran his tongue softly over Oliver’s bottom lip, trying to coax more, wanting to take it further. Oliver pulled back, making him wait. He threaded the fingers of their spare hands together. “You’ve given me everything I’ve ever wanted in life.” He grinned. “I have a husband who loves me, a beautiful home, and the two most perfect kids anyone could ever wish for.” He sighed. “Only an idiot would get bored of that.”

He took Connor’s wine glass and pushed it onto the coffee table, accompanied by his own before turning back, eyebrow raised. He caught Connor’s lips in another kiss, deeper this time, kneeling up between the other man’s legs, pushing him back against the arm rest. Connor curled a hand around the back of Oliver’s neck, pulling him in closer. Connor chuckled against his lips, holding on to Oliver, attempting to roll him underneath, the two men wobbling precariously close to the edge of the couch.

“Connor!” Oliver yelped. “There’s no room!” He chuckled, allowing himself to fall onto the floor between the sofa and the coffee table.

“We’ve done it in smaller?” Connor winked, lowering himself down, astride the older man. “Remember when we drove to Michigan for Christmas that year and you made me pull over in that rest area?” He grinned devilishly, lips finding their way to Oliver’s neck. “And we did it in my tiny single bed at my mum’s house without waking my niece and nephew.” He grinned triumphantly, grinding his crotch roughly against Oliver’s. “We’re sex pros, Ollie, we can do it anywhere?” He chuckled, ignoring Oliver’s cynical smirk.

“Is that why you’re grinding against my belt buckle?”

Connor stopped, glancing down. Sure enough the bulge he’d been gyrating excitedly against sat rather higher on Oliver’s waist, not quite the semi he thought he’d managed to coax from his husband in record time. He collapsed forwards with groan, hands either side of Oliver’s shoulders.

“Oh fuck…” He grumbled. “Are we really that out of practice?” He croaked, seemingly disheartened by the turn of events. A smile crept across Oliver’s lips, his hands reaching up, grasping Connor’s arms.

“We’ve been busy.” He whispered. “In the best way.” Connor slowly began to pull himself up, sliding back on the couch with a huff, crossing his arms. Oliver followed behind, kneeling up, placing his hands on the other man’s knees. “Anyway, us getting out of practice has its advantages.” He shrugged with a chuckle, carefully clambering atop the younger man, knees straddling his lap, arms linking around his neck. Connor’s hands moved instinctively to grasp his husbands ass, kneading the soft globes of flesh in the palm of his hands.

“Oh really?” He muttered, eyes dark and voice heavy, gratefully accepting the kisses Oliver was currently littering across his jaw. “What advantages are those exactly?” Oliver’s lips moved hot and wet, nipping at Connor’s earlobe, his voice low in the other man’s ear.

“It means we get to learn things all over again.” He chuckled, sitting backwards. “I mean… what happens if I kiss you right here?” Oliver mumbled slyly, his lips making a move on the spot where Connor’s neck met his collarbone, knowing all too well just how sensitive his husband was there.

Connor let out a low groan, throwing his head back to allow easier access. This was why he and Oliver were meant to be, both knowing how to do or say exactly the right thing when the other needed it. This was what they’d spent seven years working for, not perfection, but the understanding that sometimes, just having each other was enough.

“Yeah, I think we can definitely find time to do this more often.” Connor whined orgasmically, writhing under the other man’s touch, struggling to control the stirring in the pit of his stomach. Oliver looked up, a mutual grin exchanged as their lips flew back to meet each others, kissing deeply, tongues flicking playfully against each others as the warmth between them spread.

The chime of the doorbell echoed through the house loudly, typical bad timing.

“Ignore it.” Connor huffed, his fingers knotting in Oliver’s hair. “I’m not hungry anymore.” He moaned, his fingers scrabbling with the buckle of the other man’s belt, begging for access.

The bell rang again, this time accompanied by the cries of their son, filtering through the baby monitor from upstairs. Oliver tore his lips away, both men letting out frustrated groans.

“We can’t ignore that one.” Oliver whispered, pressing a peck to the tip of Connor’s nose. “You go get the food, I’ll go and check on our little patient.” He winked, sliding from the other man’s lap, resigned to the fact this would all have to wait til later.

“We’ll pick this up for dessert.” Connor chuckled, pulling himself up and following the older man out into the hallway, fumbling absent mindedly in his back pocket for his wallet.

“Deal.” Oliver grinned, glancing back at the younger man. He climbed the first couple of stairs before stopping, spinning back round. “Connor?” He smirked, cries still ringing out from upstairs. His husband turned, eyebrows raised expectantly. “Maybe sort that out before you open the door?” He chuckled, signalling to the rather obvious bulge in the other man’s trouser’s. “You don’t want to give the delivery guy the wrong impression.” He winked, before bounding up the stairs.

Connor chuckled to himself, tugging at the hem of his top, trying to rearrange himself whilst desperately attempting to cover the evidence. He caught sight of himself in the hallway mirror, breaking into an uncontrollable smile. Things were good between the two of them, and together they could make it even better. They were going to be just fine.

#coliversecretsanta #htgawm #Connor Walsh #Oliver Hampton #coliver #one shot #T #5k #fic #css gift #submission

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