#give those men their fucking fruit salads

[lucidasidera]

🤡 Markus and McFeely 🤡: “Yeah, Bucky’s just a POW who had his entire agency explicitly removed in not one but TWO ways but he’s for sure guilty because we don’t want him to have fruit salads with Steve”

[respectthepetty]

Pride Petty Watch (SOTUS) 2/5

Since so many people voted for the two blacklisted shows I was supposed to watch during Pride, it unlocked the wild card of me rewatching my sworn enemy SOTUS. I don't remember anything about the show, and the only thing I truly took away from it was hating Krist for the last eight years, so I'm settling in and revisiting the past to figure out why I forgot about every single plot point of this show including that Jan was in it and that Kongpob x M were the perfect ghost ship.

I left off praying that Arthit gets meaner before he gets nicer, which I consider as getting better before he gets worse, but since I'm getting Dangerous Romance flashbacks flash forwards, I doubt Arthit can commit to bullying Kong much longer before he turns full simp.

How am I not supposed to root for Kong x M when M looks so devastated every time Kong leaves his side to go talk to May. I know M likes May, but the way these scenes are set up, it's hard not to think that M likes Kong and he is in pain when everyone else gets his friend's time since he has known Kong SINCE JUNIOR HIGH!

Thrilled that Wad is always ready to lay hands first and ask questions later. Also excited that he is motivated by pettiness just like me, so the only reason he is playing in the tea product placement game is just to spite the seniors. Petty work makes the dream work. Amen.

The pink milk in this series needs to be studied because on one end of the spectrum, we in BL Land know the pink milk is a staple of a Thai BL (which is slowly coming back in Last Twilight, Only Friends, Addicted Heroin and I Saw You in My Dream), but on the other end, the show itself treats the pink milk like those dumb hot takes from people asking if drinking fruity cocktails makes a man a fruit, or if sucking on popsicles makes a man want to suck a dick, or if eating food in general makes a man queer. It just feels as if this show treats Arthit that way every time he orders it, like "GOTCHA, QUEER!"

If I were that food vendor, and Kong started popping out with these little nuggets while Arthit just kept threatening him, their business would be all up in the group chat because I'd be messaging all my friends that these two gay guys were practically foreplaying right in front of my salad pork skewers.

So of course Arthit would show up to the game just to stand there and glare at a man drenched in sweat from playing a hard game of basketball like the internalized-homophobic asshat he is.

God, some things never change.

WE GOT COCA-COLA MONEY?!

I gasped not because of the note on this conversation but because of the comment coming from AN OPENLY GAY MAN on the hazers squad. I am not Thai, so the only way I can relate to the hazers is through Greek life (fraternities and sororities), and even a long long time ago, I knew openly gay men in frats, and they pulled ALL the girls since girls felt safer around them than the straights, but the look Prem and Arthit are giving Tuta when he says this is what I'm laser-focused on because they show toleration rather than acceptance. I'm taking those looks personally.

Arthit continues to say Kong's face is annoying, but he never says it's ugly. Sir, I see your gay awakening on the horizon.

AND M WITH THE FUCKING LOOKS AGAIN! He is looking at Kong on stage then looking at May looking at Kong on the stage, and I know where this is going, but my god does it feel like M is sad because he believes Kong is straight and wouldn't reciprocate the feelings he has for his best friend SINCE JUNIOR HIGH!

I have made it clear that I do not like Krist (I believe his acting is flimsy but I can't even act like I like people, so who am I to judge), but I don't think the people behind the filming of this show liked him either because these opening title cards between the parts of the episodes are doing him dirty.

Excuse me, little stage presenter, I need to know what the fuck was going on with this performance that they had a western theme with modern guns. Was it Big Sean's "I Don't Fuck With You"?

And why is Jan looking like Taylor Swift in "Teardrops On My Guitar"? This show was in 2016, but the styling and hair are in 2003.

Now the judges are coming for Kong, and Lord knows he is going to answer in the most uncontroversial way because Kong refuses to pick a side against hazing and the boy he likes being punished by.

*eye roll* I did not think I'd make it here this quickly, but I'm on Arthit's side because Kong IS annoying. Jan's character looks full-on Stockholm Syndrome into the camera when Kong is answering, yet homeboy is just over there giving the most ridiculous reason of "our hazers have their reasons for hazing us" and now I see the direct line to GMMTV forgiving parents for abuse (Double Savage!).

Kong can play basketball really well. He remembers everyone's name. The whole class wanted him to be president. He is great in school. Now he is the Freshy Moon. Marsha, Marsha, Marsha. I hate this kid.

M, my most beloved, now I see why you're quiet a lot.

I appreciate M for also stating that Kong is just great at everything without trying, but it also feels that he is hyping up his boy because he has been IN LOVE WITH HIS SINCE JUNIOR HIGH!

In a room full of people, only Kong notices that M is unhappy, and now I see the direct they-are-married-but-not-a-couple line to Peaceful Property. New understands these roles well.

THE QUESTIONS THAT NEED ANSWERS! Can you run 54 laps, Arthit? Can you squat 200 times, Prem? These freshmen won everything, yet Arthit is still being a dickwad, and he just got his ass off of school probation. Bold move, sir! I want the juniors to suffer. Except for Bright. My boy has never done anything wrong, and if he did, he didn't.

I saw an umbrella in The Ex-Morning pilot trailer, and if that show doesn't give me a scene of these two arguing in the rain over the dumbest shit, then what is the point?

All those people watching Arthit, and none of his boys could run with him? If the purpose of hazing is unity, obviously the juniors didn't get that memo when they were being hazed as freshmen, so why continue the traditions that they don't even abide by?! Arthit is better than me because I would have crawled my ass back to my dorm before accepting their help SINCE THEY DIDN'T EVEN RUN LAPS! And now this little freshman wants to be up in his face. What's the point of the umbrella now?! He is a boy in a BL who has been in the rain for hours. HE IS ALREADY GOING TO DIE NO THANKS TO YOU UNHELPFUL DOUCHE NOZZLES!

I was just on Arthit's side, but then the show decided to tell me that entire seniors-hazing-the-juniors thing was a setup, and mixed with most of the images on Arthit's door being black-and-white, and one of those images being Charles Manson's Rolling Stone cover, I'm back to hating him again. So in case anyone is still following along, I now hate both of the leads. Can I get M and Bright back?

Kong says several times that Arthit can punish him, then he irons Arthit's clothes. If this show would just lean into the kink of it all, I would embrace everything about it. If Kong could just be a masochist dom, I would be delighted. JAPAN, COME HERE RIGHT NOW! Fuck remaking Love in the Air! Remake this kinky shit instead!

This is what a sado sub looks likes and Japan would know exactly what to do with him. Now I'm mad that I'm watching the babygirl-fication of a perfectly good jerk.

Well hello there you two! You wanna make out before going to the hospital? Maybe keep it all a secret from everybody else? I'm so pissed that I can't remember this plot now because I don't think they will be a thing BUT THEY WOULD BE PERFECT!

And I'm still rooting for my boy M to get his best friend since unlike Arthit, M can at least acknowledge that his friend is pretty to his face. No internalized homophobia here but probably because M isn't even a homo. I've sailed ships with less.

😬🥴🙃 Thank you subtitler for keeping the word. It's important. So are the looks that I'm taking personally. And BRIGHT IS THE ONE TO SAY IT! So I like M now and only M. Everyone can eat dirt and choke.

Arthit's nickname means warmth? I'm starting to remember why I forgot this show. Like Celine Dion, "It's All Coming Back to Me Now"

And I hate it.

[daftdrac]

Ive been procrastinating watching X-Men '97 so hard because in the first 15 minutes of the first episode there's already so much I don't like about but I just. The ONE thing that's making me want to give this series a chance is gambit istg

I will list my complaints below if you're a '97 fan and don't give a shit or you just like gambit and want to hear me scream ferally about him you can skip

Imo: jean being pregnant at the start weirds me out idk I get a major ick

I also don't like the one scene where she's talking about him quitting X-Men and shit like she doesn't know he's committed his life to the team like girl. This is out of character STOP.

Logan's voice actor is bad. Just stop. Please.

Who the FUCK is Morph. Also they make me uncomfortable 😭. Or they did in like the scene where they're trying to find the rich kid at the rave and they're imitating Jean to tease Logan. That is just uncomfortable to me like ew stop please

Idk who jubilee is I'll be fr and that makes me wary of her. I know she's a comics character (Im pretty sure) but the only X-Men content I've watched is two other of the cartoons (xmen evo and wolverine and the xmen) and she's not in those and my autism reallyyyy doesn't like change so randomly finding out about new characters is uncomfortable but she seems cool and silly I like her

I also think from what I've seen of him '97 Scott is the LEAST likeable version of himself, but also probably the most simp worthy I'll be fr that tanktop gets to me too y'all-

I also don't really like the art style. It's a cool STYLE but most of the character designs don't look quite right with it and it just. Eurgh. Idk. Gambit is like one of the only characters who I like in the xmen '97 artstyle

The ONLY thing I can praise in this show so far is gambit. I love him. Look at him

(img found on Pinterest credits to original artist/creator)

Just LOOk at him. This man is such a slut I love him. Long red hair a crop top AND slutty jeans?!?? And don't forget the cHOKER,, like DAMN this man is a FRUIT! SALAD! And the fingerless gloves I almost forgot to mention those. Hc his shoes are blue converse im making him gayer. Also the belt chain GOD this man is GAY i LOVE HIM. This is by far his best design I swear to God. Evolution does him so DIRTY dude it actually made me fucking CRY laughing when I first saw him I felt SO bad he's RIDICULOUS

sigh. Poor soul. The fucking BOWL CUT THEY GAVE HIM

God and wolverine and the xmen is hardly better 😭

I LIKE HOW THEY DID HIS OUTFIT. ITS COOL. BUT GOD HIS FUCKING HAIR

Long story short/tldr I dislike X-Men '97 but it's portrayal of gambit is AMAZING I LOVE this GAY MAN

Ok I have a class I have to get to I need to post this BAHSB BYE

[alexiavettel]

chapter three

pairing: charles leclerc x fem¡stroll!reader

word count: 1.8k+

warnings: kinda toxic!reader, mentions of Charles’ father, overthinking

disclaimer: any photo used is not supposed to represent the reader, are all Pinterest pics that match the context

⇦⇦⇦ previous part

Y/n Stroll POV:

There’s only one week left to the pre-season testing and they want us to go in a yacht and play cute happy couple while we could be training. I tried to fight my father and he just said “You signed the contract, honey. You knew what you were doing”. When I go to another team I promise I’m going to only see this old fucking man at Christmas!

And that’s how I ended up in this situation: sitting alone at the dock waiting for this asshole.

When I was about to go back home the bastard I was waiting for finally arrived.

“Please don’t shout at m-“

“I have waited for you for 45 minutes you asshole! Explain yourself!”

“Okay, first of all stop stomping like a kid” I might look a bit childish but can you blame me? “Second, I had something important to solve”

“What is so fucking important that you couldn’t even take 2 seconds to text me to tell you were going to be late or that you couldn’t come?!”

“I had a meeting with the team about some new updates they are looking for-“ he helped me get in the boat.

“I don’t need to know your bullshit. The fact is that you didn’t care enough to send me a simple fucking text and kept me waiting while I could be doing something better and more important than spending shitty time with you!”

“God okay, I am sorry! Is that what you so desperately want to hear?”

“Fuck you, Leclerc!” I marched to the farthest place from him, which happens to be the front of the yacht.

He can’t understand that I need every single minute I have to practice, obviously he needs it too but it’s so much easier for him, a man, a man in a dominant car specially. It’s so fucking frustrating pushing the car to the maximum and it still doesn’t give you what you want, what you need. And when you lose control what they will blame? The fact that I pushed the car too much until it almost exploded in my hands? Absolutely no. It’s surely because I’m a woman.

“You know Phill, Y/n is an incredible driver but I think sometimes the cars aren’t just made for women. I don’t think they can handle that much pressure, you got me?!”

“Y/n how much of the car Aston Martin had to adapt for your female body?” that’s not even close to the worst one but I would never get those if I were a man.

“Is it harder to drive when you are on your period?” “You have to do the underwear FIA check too?” “Come on, is it hard to handle yourself being around 19 men, right?”

My thoughts were interrupted when I heard the boat engine starting. Yes, now I have no way out…

•••

“I bring lunch, you’re coming?” I was just getting my things back inside after putting my bikini on when I heard his hesitant voice.

“Y-Yeah sure” I shouldn’t have screamed at him, he didn’t deserved it. At least not this time.

“We are going to eat outside, all right?” when I finally found him he was shirtless at the kitchen (one of the prettiest I must admit, all clear tones and marble).

“Hmhm” I humm as I helped him with the trays.

“Pretty bikini” I paralysed in the moment I sat down next to the food “What? Am I getting the silence treatment now?! I know I fucked up earlier but I’m sorry okay? I just got caught up in the moment I forgot to call you”

“It wasn’t a silence treatment, I am just shocked that you can actually complement me” I couldn’t and help but let out a scoff “but I’m sorry too, to be honest. I shouldn’t have screamed at you, I got carried away by my disappointment towards somethings that doesn’t involve you specifically. So I shouldn’t have done it…”

“Oh my God, you can actually apologise!” he almost screamed.

“Fuck you, Leclerc”

“Yep, that’s the Y/n I know!” he messed with my hair getting an arm smack in return “Soo we got fruits, salad, loaves of breads, juice, jams and some slices of ham, cheese and salami”

“Oh God! I love salami!”

“Me too! By the way, fancy a swim after? I want to use the new jet skis”

“Yeah why not? But we have to wait a little after eating y’know because-“ I say while doing a sandwich for me.

“Don’t mom me, I know why”

“I don’t mom you!?”

“Whatever you say, darling. Gonna be back in a sec!” and he leaves. After calling me darling with the biggest smirk on his face and with a weird naturally…

“What is that?” I asked after he came back with a pot of something red.

“Cherry jam, I didn’t bring with the rest because-“

“I am allergic to cherries”

“Yeah and I know how you eat everything that’s red, thinking it is strawberries”

“Can you blame me? Strawberry is the best fruit, boy” I can’t help but think why he actually remembers I’m allergic to cherries… Whatever, it’s probably from eating together at restaurants so many times.

“Nah peaches are superior”

•••

“Charles Marc Hervé Perceval Leclerc I’m going to kill you!” I screamed from the top of my lungs as he splashed water all over me with his jet ski after I clearly had told him that I didn’t want to wet my hair.

“Not like you can catch me, darling” he speed away laughing… I want to drown him.

When I got by his side my desire was to crash the fast machine into his but I just took a turn and wet him all. Meeting with his face dropping water, eyebrows frowned but the biggest smile in his face as him try to dry his face. That made me smile.

Then he pointed the boat as a sign to come back. “Last to come to the boat have to do what the other wants for a whole day” I offered him, who wore a wicked smile agreeing with it. There’s no way he could beat me.

He actually could beat me. But only because my jet ski stopped midway, the engine has gone completely off.

“I’m going to help you but with one condition…” he proposed coming at me after seeing I apparently got a problem “I can choose when you’re going to obey me all day”

“You know this is literally your problem right? Your jet ski, not mine. And I’m not going to obey you, I’ll do you favours. But I’m not in the mood to swim my way to the yacht so it’s okay, you can choose when. But that can’t include race stuff” it was part of the challenge since the beginning but I think I forgot to mention it, so points to me!

“Whatever you say, sweetheart” he made me go behind him in his own machine to try to fix it “By the way, I had never seen you in one these how are you fast?”

“Well it’s not too different than bikes, and I am completely in love with my bikes”

“You ride??? You mean like motorcyclettes?” He stopped doing whatever he was doing to look shocked at me.

“Yeah I can show you the pics of my babies when we came back to the boat”

“Babies? Oh dear god! But anyway that would be soon since we are coming back right now, darling!” he needs to stop calling me that...

“How do you fixed it?”

“It’s the battery, I can’t fix it. The man who sold me that one probably didn’t use it in a very long time and didn’t switch the battery to sell it. I am going to call him after, but now you have to sit still here” he explained while tying a rope to connect the two jets.

��

“So yeah that’s it, my babies. They’re probably my most precious possessions” I gave my phone to him see the bikes while we sit together waiting for the sunset, shivering below a sharing blanket.

“I didn’t take you as a bike type… Why your ‘most precious possession’ isn’t a f1 car?”

“I’ve got last year’s, but once I leave Aston Martin I think it will be the only one I’ll keep”

“Are you planning to leave?” apparently the sun doesn’t want to go down, now would be an amazing moment huh?

“Maybe-“

“But then why would you agree with this deal?” He seems anxious…

“I still need a seat this season, ferrari boy”

“Oh…” an awkward silence took place after this and the sun finally started to set down.

“Even the moon it’s here too, so pretty” I said after asking for a pic in the wonderful mix of blue, pink, orange, yellow and purple in the sky.

“My dad used to say that the moon and the sun are a couple and when they’re in the sky at the same time, it's the only moment they can properly see each other and the closest they can ever be”

“My best friend used to tell me a story about how they fell in love with each other, and how the moon always try to hide her feelings from the sun ‘cause she knew they could never work out. But the sun being so shiny, warm and radiant, couldn’t hold himself and tried every single solar eclipse to ask the moon out, even receiving a ‘no’ every time he never took it as a real answer because he knew about moon’s real feelings”

“Your friend is no fun, is a sad story with a sad ending”

“It’s not sad, Leclerc! It’s an analogy of real life situations, sometimes life is sad and we can’t do anything besides watch it burn”

“But they could try! They would still see each other in the sky like now, they would still see the beauty left behind from the other, they could see each other properly in eclipses and all! If the moon really loved the sun she would’ve tried”

“Maybe it’s not that easy. What about the earth in that situation? And they could never touch each other! The sun would burn the moon down and he didn’t even think about that, the sun would be the end of the moon and even knowing that she still loves him… Being all destructive. Sometimes love can be like this”

The silence where this story belongs came to us, in a now dark sky where only the moon could be saw. Two bodies laying down in a boat in the middle of the ocean, looking at the sky and thinking about whole different things.

“But why the sun is a male and the moon a female?” he frowned.

“Me and my mate used to see it like that, the moon passes me this feminine energy”

“Still like my story better”

“You’re a kid who doesn’t understand the complicity of it” I got up and offer him my hand.

“I am not a kid!” He slapped my hand and got up himself

“See, kid’s behaviour”

“You-“

“I’m gonna get dressed and we can come back right?! I believe some people saw us today and we are probably being shipped in twitter”

“Yeah, I’m turning the boat back…”

my taglist!!

[covecornerarchive]

Candle Cove Pride Headcannons!

Heyo, just realized pride month is ending soon and I've already posted shit for it so here's a bunch of head cannons!:

Jojo and Banana King? Those two are pirate married, all the way. Funky gay pirate grandpas! Jojo being the only actual chill one on board and BK being the most batshit obnoxious old dude? They were made for each other. Husbands if I've ever seen 'em (also I want less "these two boring skinny twinks have homoerotic tension," and more "these two unconventional and weird old men are an old married couple who are so in love it hurts."

*holding Poppy* BISEXUAL DAD! BISEXUAL DAD! BISEXUAL DAD! BISEXUAL DA-

Me @ Percy, Calvary, Thade, Heartfelt, Susan, and Janice: I'm bestowing upon you the greatest honor I can give. Being asexual (aro/ace in Heartfelt's case).

Lillian is trans, and Dr. Mort (who in my version is absolutely nothing like the one on the wiki because I hate wiki Mort with a passion) helped with her transition. She and Thade are a t4t couple.

I have absolutely no clue what's going on between Horace and Skin-taker but it is the fruitiest thing and for all intents and purposes I've decided to refer to them as "the terrible husbands."

Credit to @thedivisionbell1994 for this idea from a while back but Janice being trans? Janice coming to Candle Cove and since it's a world based on her inner self and imagination everyone just immediately used she/her and Janice to refer to her without her having said anything, and even when she didn't entirely know what being trans meant she thought "hey yeah that feels right!" and that was that? *Chefs kiss* baby girl!

Percy, Thade, and Lillian were in the most chaotic QPR polycule. They all got married one day cuz they were bored and for pirate tax benefits. Triple threat the lot of them.

Dr. Mort (who again is VERY different in my version) and Boar were also two gay pirate grandpas who were very married and very deeply in love. Mort would climb Boar like a cat. Dog and Cat couple if you will.

*points to the Rubber Fishes crew* FRUIT SALAD!!!!!!!!

Both Sunny and Bloody Kimothy use he/she pronouns.

I think this could be considered canon since on their wiki they're referred to with they/them and their gender is never confirmed, but Nicola is 100% a nonbinary icon and they and Henric are married for pirate tax benefits as well.

*points to Milo and Henric* FUCKING DIVORCED THE BOTH OF YOU!

Skin-taker and Sariah are undead wlw mlm solidarity. No I won't explain myself.

Milo isn't homophobic but he is obnoxious. He'll find a way to both make fun of you and support you at the same time, and his sexuality is whatever would be funny in the moment.

Sunny, Sariah, and Susan are in love and very happy. Scary pirate lady, pretty but bad ass princess, and siren capable of unspeakable crimes lesbian polycule I don't take criticism.

Janice came to Percy one day and went, "Hey Percy I don't think I like guys is that ok," and Percy went, "Yeah of course! I mean everyone on this ship is already queer so-"

Abyssians don't really think about gender the same way humans do so when Thade came to Candle Cove and learned what pronouns were he wanted all of them. Collects them like pokemon cards the lad.

Don't get me wrong, I'm 100% on the ftm Percy boat, but hear me out: genderfluid Percy.

Milo: Are ye wearing a dress??? Percy: Aye. Why? Jealous ye don't get one? Milo, 100% jealous: ....no-

Janice: Are you gay? The Earl: I'm homophobic! Poppy: He's avoiding the question.

(June 29, 2022)

[yourstrqly]

✰ HELPING HANDS, LANDOSCAR

in which fem!reader is helping out oscar's puppy love on his teammate lando without realising the consequences

tw: landoscar is real, swear words, sex hinted, time jump 🗝 . . previous part & next part

two idiots and their saving grace

you

i see you got on very well last night. i'd appreciate a word put in for a promotion or a trip to somewhere warm with beaches, hot men, yadayada you get me

havent expected you be such a dirty man lan, but then oscari has probably ruined your dick by the looks lol

lan

girl, he destroyed me, he's made to be a lover, lemme tell you that. took me like a champ

you shallowed too?

lan every last drop, took my breath away and sucked me dry

anyways, thank you for this little one, we definitely own you a thing or two 🤍

oscari

yup 100%, believe we'd dance around each other for months if it was for you cupid.

enjoyed the video?

you wasnt bad to look at, bit shaky but oscari those hands work fast wowsa. you'll take good care of the man just don't fuck when we work, yes? then i might leave you for another team

"i bet little y/n took care of her sweet pussy, look when she saw the video and when she replied", lando giggled as he shoved down a bite of the fruit salad he shared with his lover in bed, smartphone laying on oscar's lap.

they had enjoyed soft kisses and equally soft sex under the white coversheet, taking in a memorable place in their love filled hearts — for some their thing, whatever they should name it, might be running fast but then they waited patiently for a year to realise their feelings and now there was no coming back, just straight up truth, desire and love, because this was love, pure and soft, fast yet romantic. they were two peas in a pot but they also noticed their lust for oscar's girl for everything, you.

you weren't just a woman with a hot, curvy body, no, you had the personality too, bold and headstrong, taking no fucks — neither oscar nor lando knew how they wanted you in this but to a threesome, they wouldn't say no.

"maybe but let's focus on us this month before adding sweets to the mix in any kind of form yeah?", the younger man said, hand grasping lan's to press a kiss on it.

his partner hummed in agreement, happily munching on the breakfast as they exchanged ideas for possible date ideas; paddle, golf as well as pottery, trying every local cuisine once ( we'll just leave the fish alone, right, babe?") and whatnot — typical things couples tried to depend the bond and enjoy their partners company. you'd for sure cover for them somehow to let it look like they're only teammates, having a good time being single.

and so the mclaren men went on all kinds of dates, some great, a few alright and two of them weren't very much enjoyable (the aussie rated the gold date as the most boring thing he had to do but because he liked lan alot, he'd come back whenever the older one would win above him in a race).

you were their saving grace, saving them from noisy reporters and brewing scandals with some greedy models and who not, giving them an ultimate hiding place for their blossoming romance. to add a cherry on top, you suggested more date ideas for their second and third month, putting a professional love doc to shame. where you got the ideas from was more or less a mystery to them but other couples on the grid like alex and lily, george and carmen, and kika and pierre rated your skills to heaven. it was a skill set of yours, the only thing no one got behind is, how you didn't have a partner by yourside, though no one wanted to get on your bad side and kept their mouth shut; you liked to say that your love life was dead and that's it.

"how are my birdies doing this fine morning? ready to talk some racing?", you entered the room and began to talk, lips coloured in a bright red, complimenting your all black fit and red-orange necklace, oscar had gotten you from when you both started to work at mclaren over a year ago. oscar returned to his position next to lando on the bed, leaving you to stand in front of them, cheeking your nails before continuing. "remember to shut down the rumours with that instagram model, lando, and oscari, for you I have nothing on my agenda. you're just too wholesome to people, so they dont wanna ruin your imagine it seems."

lando moaned, face in his hands, letting his boyfriend kiss his neck. "i don't do anything but be a doting boyfriend, little y/n. i don't even know who that woman is." "I know, i know, just say something along the line of who? or talk about not knowing why those silly bitches get connected to you. state your truth, honey. and now get decent, it reeks of steamy sex in here."

"yes ma'am", you heard. "are you coming on track with us or driving separately?", your friend wanted to know, as he put on a maroon silky shirt lando had gifted him on their stay in the latter ones flat. shame, the aussie hid his muscles behind the shirt tho but he didn't close all the buttons and left his collarbone for show, were a dainty golden necklace rested, a promise ring of sorts that mclaren number four also wore in form of an actual ring, blending in quite nicely with his collection of jewelry. that's taste.

"i'm driving with you, i'll sit in back, if thats okay with you, boys?"

they didn't reply, packing up their stuff and gently pushed you out off the door, osc's hand resting heavily against the small of your back.

hopefully I don't blush like virgin Mary, you thought.

they guided you to the car, a beautiful mclaren in a sleek navy blue. lando opened the door for you and waited until you settled to shut it again, walking around the car to drive it as oscar had decided on being the passenger prince for the day (he was also very sleeping looking and had the desire to control the music today). "have you eaten something or should we grab you a bite on the way, sweets?"

a moan left your painted lips, now being able what you forgot this morning when you rushed through your hotel room. fluttering with your lashes, a cute smile danced on your lips. "some food would be fantastic, thanks for the reminder, daddy." you then proceed to chance your attention to your vibrating phone, seeing a couple of messages of people trying to get hold on osc, who, if you looked up into the mirror, blushed hard at the nickname.

"oi where's my sexy nickname, little one? you just can't call him daddy in front of me, the boyfriend of months and don't gift me one too, you hear me?", lando pouted, resting his right hand behind oscars head rest when parking the car in front of a small café. "Don't have one for you, it seems", you grinned like a cashire cat and closed the door to get yourself a snack.

oscar broke the comfortable silence between them, laughter bubbling over the music. "she could call you sir too, treasure. i know you like it. imagine her on her knees, waiting for our command — she'd look so good taking you, us."

"you shit, want me to hide a bulge?", the other male whinned, hand joining his lover's in the middle console of the car.

"don't act like a cry baby, it doesn't suit you."

POLY/MULTI DRIVERS — SINGULAR DRIVERS

wanna be tagged in the next part of helping hand? comment below :)

🗝 . . . tag list [open] — @d3kstar @hiireadstuff @vellicora @jupiter-je-taime @denisebeee @jaehyunluvcult @chezmardybum @koalalafications @thebook-bitch @ln4norizz @entr4p3 @67-angelofthelordme-67

[orangefoxes]

Hey, so I've been trying to submit a prompt but it won't work so here it goes I know this will be sad but what if Neil gets really sad and depressed (the reason is up for interpretation ex: bullied by jack or is haunted by PTSD) and so he becomes full of self hate and becomes anorexic and cuts himself #andreil (this would mean so much since I've been through similar circumstances and was strong enough to pull through and keep living, this book and your Tumblr have helped me so much)

Hi @soph-ie21 I am so sorry this took a whopping 4 years for me to post. I’m terrible for not checking my inbox as my notifications have been turned off for tumblr since I was like 13. I’m so glad to hear that you recovered from your ED, you must be so strong and I’m so proud of you as I know how difficult that is to do. I’m hoping this is the sort of prompt you were looking for, if you’re even looking after this long, as it’s not very dialogue heavy, but here you go.

TRIGGER WARNING: EATING DISORDER, SELF LOATHING, ANOREXIA.

When in high stress situations, to cope, the brain releases a hormone called cortisol. It’s alright in small doses, helpful even. It triggers your fight or flight response and readies the body to do something, fast. Constant exposure to the hormone however, has some not so good long term effects. Effects that include, but are not limited to: high blood pressure, heart disease, type 2 diabetes, osteoporosis, and, arguably the mildest, weight gain.

Cortisol results in weight gain for two reasons. The first is because it slows your metabolism, and the second is because the drop in blood sugar from constant high blood pressure means that you start craving fatty, sugary foods, which leads to overeating. Neil’s memory is not nearly good enough for him to recall what foods he had craved over the years, but he and his mother shied away from sweets and chocolate for dental reasons, it probably would have been a hardship for many kids growing up but Neil had never much cared for sugar anyway. However, what he and his mother did indulge in is a lot of fatty, fast food. Partly because it was cheap, partly because it was something they could eat while on the move, and partly because no one would look twice at two sketchy people in a Burger King or remember a beaten up old car briefly pausing in a drive thru.

While never giving much thought to how he looked (short of checking for ginger roots and the bruise on his cheek from where his mother had slapped that smile from his face), Neil does remember his weight fluctuating a lot when he was younger. The more stressful the months, the chubbier he got. It was in the quiet periods as he and his mother settled down and didn’t dare to venture into the supermarket too often that he began to lose it again. It was a cycle.

In Millport, Neil was at his lowest weight yet. There was only a solitary McDonald’s in town and Neil wasn’t about to become a regular. He stocked up on tinned food from the supermarket in his first week in town instead and meticulously made his way through them, heating the can up on the hot plate he had bought for four dollars from the thrift store in the high street.

He gained weight again once he started at Palmetto, he gained muscle mass too. This, of course, was thanks to three free meals a day and a new training regime with daily exercise. It was to be expected, but if, perhaps, he gained weight quicker than his teammates and muscle slower, well, he had bigger things to worry about.

Then he knew he was going to live.

Then everything with the Moriyamas was…well, not gone, but resolved.

That’s not to say there was nothing to stress about. There was the influx of reporters wanting to catch the Foxes’ attention to ask about Nathaniel Wesninski. There was Kevin’s impending break down as Riko’s funeral came and went. There was Aaron’s trial. Honestly it probably would have gone as stressful situations for Neil always go - here and gone just as quickly - except it turns out that Nicky cooks when he’s stressed, and Neil, well, he’s a stress eater.

After Aaron is declared innocent, Nicky resumes as normal. Neil…not quite. He’s constantly opening the cupboards to look for something to eat only to close them again when he finds nothing of interest. Without Nicky cooking, there’s nothing he can easily dig into and Neil, while accumulating many skills over the years, had never been a hand in the kitchen. The only things ready-eat that were consistently in the dorm were ramen and ice-cream. Even the thought of ramen makes Neil want to vomit and Neil wasn’t so desperate that he would resort to eating something as sweet as ice cream. Not that Andrew would let him if he did. (Andrew wasn’t a sharer).

He started to feel hungry.

He was always hungry.

The first few days he started to skip meals, he didn’t even notice he was doing it. Surely he didn’t notice he was doing it.

It’s just -

Here’s the thing.

Maybe he stress eats. Maybe his mother did too. They spent long car journeys with a family sized bag of potato chips resting by the gear stick and they spent half the time stuffing handfuls into their mouths and the other half checking the mirrors for cars that stayed behind them a touch to long. So maybe he stress ate, but it was never because of hunger: it was because of craving. It was because it gave him something to do with his hands. It was only when things quietened down, when the weeks turned long with the monotonous almost-existence that took up the majority of Neil’s life growing up (here’s something no one tells you about life on the run, in between the moments of sheer terror, it’s very very very boring), it was only then, that Neil actually began to feel things like hunger.

So when the hunger pangs began to curdle in his stomach, well, he didn’t mind. It meant he was safe enough to feel the hunger.

Maybe for the first couple of days he didn’t notice it. But then he noticed it.

He noticed enough to avoid things like rice and bread. Danger foods that packed on the calories and that made him bite the inside of his cheek until it bled at the mere thought. He noticed enough that he began to watch the others train and saw their muscles flex and couldn’t help but track their muscle growth and measure it up against his own. He always found himself lacking.

That’s when it started to get worse. If Allison spent 20 minutes on the treadmill. Then Neil would do 30. If Kevin did 40 push ups. Then Neil would do 50. If Renee had a salad for lunch, then Neil would just have a fruit pot.

The first time Andrew noticed that he skipped a meal, Neil just blinked. Being who he was, Neil didn’t do stupid things like stumble for lies and this time was no different. When Andrew asked about him not eating Neil just blinked like he hadn’t even noticed until Andrew brought it up.

He blinked and said “oh, you’re right. I got so caught up in watching exy reruns i didn’t even notice”

He said, “thanks, I’ll grab something in a sec”

Andrew breathed a scoffing breath down his nose, rolled his eyes and called him a junkie. He didn’t look at all surprised, as though Neil was only confirming what he had already guessed. Which of course is the trick all good liars employ.

Neil wondered if he would be surprised if he were to find out how impossible it would be for Neil to forget a meal time. He could never forget. All he thought about was food. It was all he thought about.

Food began to feel like it was all he cared about. Cared about more than school. Cared about more than exy. Is it terrible of him that that more than anything else feels like the worst thing?

And then, as things do, it got worse.

It turned into Neil stood in front of the mirror (looking at his body but not his eyes, never his eyes) and pinching the flesh between his fingers. Noticing every part of him that didn’t harden into muscle like the others. Noticing all the scars that had stretched strangely over a waist and thighs that are no longer as small.

He begins to peck at his food. Rip it into tiny pieces. Andrew looks down at his plate and glowers at him. Neil gives him a cheeky grin. He knows what he’s thinking. That this is just another one of those Andrew-mannerisms that Neil is taking on for himself. Like the sarcastic salutes and the blank, waiting stares. It’s so much easier to hide how little you’ve eaten when it’s all in pieces.

He didn’t know how to explain it. He just knows he needs to be thinner. He needs to weigh less. It’s not about looks. It’s never been about looks. He just needs to do this. He needs to be smaller. It will be alright then. Because then…then…

Well it will be alright then.

So here’s the thing about guilt and self loathing: they’re useless emotions. Andrew would be quick to agree. (Though Andrew is a hypocrite and is chock full of the both of them). His mother would agree too. How many times had Neil slipped poison into someone’s drink, stole from someone just as desperate, shot someone who maybe or maybe-not deserved it? And how many times after that did his mother pinch and prod at him and repeat the same mantra of “don’t you dare let guilt slow you down, you slow down and you’re dead”

Well, Mum, he’s slowed down. He slowed down so much that he’s stopped altogether and guess what? He fucking hates himself.

He replays it all in his head like a terrible loop. The boy in Switzerland that he tricked into taking his jacket so His fathers men would go after him instead. The old women he and his mother tricked into housing them and then slipped something in her tea until she slept and never woke up again. The homeless man who had broken into the house they were squatting in that Neil had shot on instinct. Seth.

Seth. Seth. Seth.

He fucking hates himself. Honestly the hunger pains kind of feel like the best thing he’s ever felt after that. The pain, the ache, he deserves it.

Then it gets worse. Then comes the worst part.

Andrew’s meds change again. The others had begun to make him irritable and he always had an energy crash by about 5pm and a terrible headache. The new ones wouldn’t be of much note as they did nothing groundbreakingly different, short of getting rid of the headaches and not sapping so much of his energy.

Except for one key side effect of the meds.

They suppressed Andrew’s appetite.

More and more Andrew is missing meals. He won’t even eat more than a tablespoon of ice cream. Neil watches him and adjusts himself to suit. He doesn’t know why, but he just can’t be eating more than him, he can’t.

The frustration he feels about Andrew’s meds soon turn to resentment. He hates that he has to watch Andrew not eat and not seem affected by it at all. Andrew lessens his exercise under Betsy’s advice and yet nothing changes. His weight stays the same. He probably even loses some thanks to the loss of muscle. Neil watches and Neil hates. He hates that if he skipped out on training he would pack on the pounds, he hates that his stomach hurt and hurts and Andrew doesn’t spare a thought on food at all.

He starts to avoid the roof. He starts to dodge Andrew’s gaze the same way he does his own in the mirror.

The next time they’re alone and Andrew leans in, more hesitant than he’s been in months, Neil jerks back and snaps “No.”

It isn’t even completely because of the resentment. The majority of it is because he feels disgusting and fat and he can’t bare Andrew touching him right now. Can’t bare him looking at him.

Andrew’s face closes off and he slides back to the other side of the couch. He’s searching Neil’s face, trying to find the misstep, trying to find what he did wrong.

Good, let him think he did something wrong.

Now that’s the resentment.

It’s immediately one of the worst things Neil has ever thought. He remembers sitting, trembling, on the roof, Andrew refusing to touch him saying “I wont be like them, I wont let you let me be”

And Neil’s trying to make him think, wants to make him feel -

Jesus Christ. He’s a piece of fucking shit.

He slams his way out of the dorm and runs and runs and runs.

He sleeps in the locker room and slumps out in the morning so he’s first in the main room for the meeting with Wymack. He sits on a chair that’s as far away from every other seat as it can get while still completing the make do semi-circle around where Wymack usually stands. When the others begin to filter in they take in his new seat, but don’t comment when they see his storming expression.

When Andrew sees him he pauses for a beat in the doorway before continuing to his usual seat on the couch. He stares at Neil blankly, but his hands are clenching and unclenching in his lap. Wymack hesitates but doesn’t say anything. The others play at being uninterested and only Aaron openly looks between Neil and Andrew with a steadyingly darkening expression.

Neil slams his locker and gets changed in the cubicles for the first time in months. He’s vicious in practice. Throwing in as many dirty moves as he can. Andrew stands in the goal and does nothing. When it’s only Wymack’s sharp whistle that stops Neil bringing his racket down on Matt’s arm when he attempts to steal the ball, Neil is benched.

He yanks off his helmet and slumps down on the bench and tries to remember how to breathe through rage.

He’s sat, pinching at the skin on his thigh, for ten minutes before Allison joins him. She holds out a breakfast bar and Neil stiffens.

“Eat, it might help you stop being such a raging asshole,” she says.

Neil takes the breakfast bar and when she doesn’t immediately leave he opens it and snaps a bit off with his fingers.

He stares down the rolled oats and nuts and grimaces at the sticky feeling of the syrup that holds them together. He feels sick.

“Are you going to eat?” Allison says.

Neil looks at her and huffs a bitter breath through his nose. A wry smile pulls at the corner of his lips.

He remembers that Allison battled bulimia for years.

You can’t lie to a liar.

She looks at his face. Concern trying to become anger that she’s trying to force to stay concern. She looks at his face and then over at Andrew, who is stood in his goal watching them as Kevin shouts at him to fucking do something already. She looks back at Neil.

“You know, relationships are hard enough without mental health problems in the mix. Seth and I were a terrible combination for many reasons and that was one them. I’m not saying it can’t be done or that it shouldn’t be done, I’m just saying it makes it so much harder. He used to try to make me eat. I hated him for that. Hated that I had to hide my own habits in my own room. One day, after he stopped me from going to purge one too many times we got into an argument. I said some disgusting things to him. The next day he was in the hospital because of an overdose. He had to get his stomach pumped. You know what the worst thing is? I don’t even remember what it is I said. I don’t know if what I did triggered him or if it would have happened anyway, but it couldn’t have helped. You’re always going to trigger each other at one point or another, it’s unavoidable. But if you know that and you don’t do anything to help yourself…well that’s when every shit thing you think about yourself starts to become true. So tell me, are you a piece of shit that’s going to drag everyone down with you, or are you better than that?”

Neil looks down at the breakfast bar. He still can’t make himself eat it.

He swallows harshly against the lump in his throat. He has to swallow two more times until he’s sure he can talk without crying.

“What’s betsy’s number?” He asks.

Allison doesn’t smile, but she nods like he’s done the right thing and pulls out her phone.

SIDE NOTE: I’d like to point out that Neil is very flawed and toxic in his thinking and Allison is harsh in what she says to him just because she’s a harsh person. If you have an eating disorder I know sometimes help and recovery seems like the worst thing in world and something you really don’t want, but please, please seek help. You can do it.

[wistfulcynic]

relationship goals

Dipping the toe into fic again just for a second, to fire up some tired synapses and also because I saw this earlier and if it isn’t a CS prompt then I don’t know what is: 

Enjoy!

Words: 1.2k Rating: G Tags: couples goals, relationship goals, married CS, committed relationships can still be fun you guys

On AO3

-

relationship goals: 

It’s an offensively bright Monday morning and Ruby’s working her first shift of the summer at Granny’s new drive-thru when at just past eight a.m. a man pulls up to her window and blinds her with his smile. 

“Good morning,” he says, accepting the cup of coffee she hands him. “How are you today, lass?” 

“Um.” Ruby blinks. It’s far too early for her to be dealing with eyes that blue. And though she’s pretty much exclusively been into women these past few years, this guy’s face could probably convince her to give men another go. “Fine, I guess.” 

“Listen, Ruby.” She’s startled for a moment when he calls her by her name, then recalls she’s wearing a name tag. Duh. Seriously, it’s way too freaking early for this. “Could you do me a favour?” he asks, with a smile she’s pretty sure no one who’s into dudes even a little bit has ever said no to. 

“What kind of favour?” she asks warily.

He hands her a twenty. “I’d like to pay for the woman in the car behind me,” he says. “And tell her I think she’s hot.” 

“Sir, I’m not sure that’s—” 

“And keep the change.” 

He gives her a wink—a terrible excuse for a wink, actually—and drives off. 

Ruby hesitates. She’s not about to help some dude sexually harass another woman, no matter how blue his eyes, but he’s left her something like a twelve-dollar tip and he didn’t seem that creepy. She watches carefully as the next car pulls up. The woman behind the wheel is definitely hot—creepy-ish dude has good taste—with long, blonde hair curled in princess ringlets and an expression that looks just how Ruby feels—that it’s way too early in the morning for any species of bullshit. 

“Hey,” she greets the woman, handing over another coffee. “Um, it’s already paid for.” 

“What?” 

“The guy in the car in front of you, he paid for your coffee.” 

“Did he?” says the woman with a scowl. 

“Yeah. And he, uh, he said to tell you you’re hot.” 

Ruby figures this woman can take care of herself. She looks like she could flatten Mr Blue Eyes if she put her mind to it, and if he’s being a creep she deserves to know. 

The woman heaves an annoyed huff and rolls her eyes. “Thanks,” she says. “I’ll handle it.” 

Ruby gives her a nod and even manages a grin despite the early hour. She likes this woman. 

—

The next day at about the same time, the same man with the same blue eyes and a face that Ruby decides could actually be classified as an offensive weapon pulls up to her window, the twenty already held out between two fingers. 

Ruby glances at her list of orders. “She’s ordered a really expensive drink today,” she informs Blue Eyes. “Blended coffee with two shots of the specialty espresso and like four kinds of syrup, plus whipped cream and praline sprinkles.” 

Blue Eyes laughs. “Well played, love,” he murmurs, almost to himself, and pulls another ten from his wallet. “Tell her she’s devastatingly beautiful and her clever tricks only serve to further inflame my passions.” 

Ruby chokes. “I can’t tell her that!” 

Blue Eyes widens his blue eyes and lets his lip quiver slightly, like the fucking cat from Shrek, Ruby thinks grumpily. It’s still too damned early to be dealing with this. “Fine,” she huffs. She snatches the thirty bucks from his hand and exchanges it for his drink. 

He shoots her a lopsided grin that has her heart actually skipping a goddamn beat and another terrible wink, then drives away. A minute later Princess Curls pulls up, already looking resigned. 

“Apparently you are devastatingly beautiful and your clever tricks only serve to further inflame his passions,” Ruby informs her as she hands over the monstrous coffee drink. The woman’s eyes narrow. 

“So that’s how he wants to play it,” she says. “Thanks.” 

Ruby grins. “No problem, hot stuff,” she smirks, with a far better wink than Blue Eyes could manage. Princess Curls laughs. 

“Not you too,” she protests. 

“If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em,” says Ruby. “Have a nice day.” 

“You too,” Princess Curls replies, and drives off. 

—

The war of wills continues for the rest of the week, escalating to the point where Ruby begins to worry that the diner won’t have the wherewithal to handle the stakes of the warfare. On Wednesday, Princess Curls orders another massive coffee with a side of chocolate chip pancakes. On Thursday Blue Eyes gives Ruby a fifty and a slip of paper on which grilled cheese, onion rings, chocolate milkshake is written in such perfect handwriting Ruby is half convinced it’s a font. 

“She’ll call in this order at about twelve-thirty,” he tells her. “Make sure she doesn’t lay down a dime.” 

On Friday Princess Curls orders three coffees and enough breakfast food to feed an army. Granny chuckles to herself as she cracks eggs on the grill and Blue Eyes hands Ruby a crisp hundred-dollar bill with a flourish. “Tell her that her beauty puts the dawn to shame, and add a fruit salad to her order,” he says with a smirk. “Chocolate chip pancakes and extra-crispy bacon doth not a healthy breakfast make.” 

“No,” mutters Ruby, “I don’t suppose they doth.” 

—

On Saturday she’s off drive-thru duty and feeling a bit let down. She didn’t realise how much the romance of Blue Eyes and Princess Curls brightened her morning until she found herself facing a busy weekend without them. And she has Monday off. She gives herself a bracing pep-talk then swings through the doors from the kitchen with a pot of coffee in each hand, stopping short when she sees Blue Eyes grinning his weapons-grade grin as he leans against the counter. 

“Regular for me,” he tells her, just as the door jangles and opens to admit Princess Curls. “She, on the other hand, has become addicted to those sugary monstrosities.” His grin softens as Princess Curls approaches and he slips an arm around her shoulders, pressing a kiss to her temple. 

“Hold up.” Ruby sets both pots down on the counter and puts her hands on her hips. “Hold the fuck up. Are you telling me that all that crap with the buying your coffee and the telling you you’re beautiful—that actually worked?” 

“It did,” laughs Princess Curls. “About ten years ago.” She holds out her hand to Ruby. “I’m Emma Jones and this is my husband, Killian.” 

“Husband,” repeats Ruby faintly, shaking the proffered hand. 

“Afraid so,” says Emma, and Killian gives a long-suffering sigh. 

“Can I help it if after ten years my wife is still the most beautiful woman in any room?” he asks. “No offence, Ruby.” 

Ruby holds up her hands. “Absolutely none taken.” 

Emma and Killian find seats in a booth and linger over their breakfast—more pancakes for her, toast and poached eggs for him—and when they come to the counter to pay, Ruby waves their money away. 

“You’ve tipped me so much this past week, it’s my treat,” she says. “Just—never change, you guys, okay?” 

Emma and Killian exchange a look, then wrap their arms around each other and turn back to Ruby. “We won’t,” Killian promises, with more solemnity than Ruby expected from him. Emma nods in agreement. 

And they never do. 

--

[yourfangirlfriend]

It’s Nothing Serious - Chapter Three

Brought to you by: insomnia and the note that I had hurt someone with the last chapter. Also sorry I wrote this on my phone so typos.

Chapter One

Chapter Two

It’s.

Not.

Serious.

So, the next morning when you’re coming out of your apartment and you turn and see a leggy red head with her hand draped around his waist, you keep your eyes averted. You think quiet thoughts. You contemplate making a face like you forgot something so you can rush back inside and wait for them to pass. But just before you can imagine what facial expression could best convey “aw fuck, forgot my wallet” he turns and you catch his eye.

For half a second, its tense. Then, in an act that even amazes you, you smile at him, like he hadn’t just used you and your body and your fucking beer (which was expensive, by the way) as therapy nights earlier.

”Hey Javi,” you say. You pull the key from the door and stand up straight.

“Hey,” he says softly, not sure if he’s just been caught or if you really are this casual. To seal the deal, you check to make sure his date is looking up and elsewhere before you point to her and make a show of checking her out. Turning back to Javier, raise your eyebrows and hold up your hand, curling your forefinger down to your thumb in the universal sign of nice (👌). The dumbfounded look on his face makes you genuinely laugh, and you stride past the two of them with a smile.

“See you later, neighbour.” You call back without turning around. You don’t wait for a response before you let the door close behind you, and you’re stepping out into the sunshine.

You’re surprised you don’t fall asleep at your desk that day. Your neck is still aching from your sleep on the couch Sunday night, probably the second worst decision you made with your body all weekend. When you return to an empty stoop, you’re almost grateful he’s not there, sitting casually like he had just happened to choose that spot to sit and smoke. God, you really had been easy for him. One night of getting drunk and giving in and now you had to spend the rest of your tenancy pretending to be the cool girl neighbour who doesn’t care that he wallmate fucked her and chucked her.

Twice.

Its not surprising, really. Men have done this before to you, and while it sucks you should know better by now to view these kind of guys as the ones you use just as much as they use you. The only thing really hurting here, you think, is your stupid ego. It’s not even like you were going to try and date the neighbour. You didn’t really want to date anyone.

You stop in your tracks, midway up the stairs.

Yeah, actually- what were you complaining about?

You had a hot neighbour who was good in bed and showed he had no qualms about letting you crawl in with him. He wasn’t pressuring you to tell him how you felt, or dragging you out on dates you didn’t want to go on, or playing passive aggressive little mind games with you. He was just fucking you. And sharing cigarettes. Sure, maybe he came over and dropped some heavy emotional labour on your lap every once in a while, but he had paid you back for your time by making you cum so hard you honestly think you lost vision for a few seconds. And you actually did like hanging out with him on your little routine smoke breaks. Yeah. Yeah! This actually worked out really well for you, now that you thought about it critically.

Pleased with yourself, you wander over to your corner and pull a cigarette from your purse, bringing it to your lips. Just as you light it, from the corner of your eye you see a patch of blue walking your way. You look up and see Javi just as he notices you, making his way towards the steps. You smile and press the lighter into your pocket.

”Hey stranger,” you tease. His face is still a bit confused as he looks up at you once, ascending the steps.

“Hey,” he says, coming to stand beside you. He reaches into his own pocket and pulls out his pack. He pats himself down and you roll your eyes, pulling the lighter from your pocket and holding it out to him. He smiles when he sees it and takes it from your hand and, despite yourself, you smile too.

”Thanks,” he says before clicking the lighter and holding the cigarette out. He hands it back to you and the two of you stand in silence for a moment, watching the sunset across the sky.

”Some kid got glue in my hair today,” you say, taking another drag. You turn to look at him. “Lorenzo.”

“The one with the eye?”

You he told him about Lorenzo’s fake eye.

”Yeah,” you say, trying not to seem to impressed he remembered. “Took forever to get it out.”

Javier nods, taking a long drag.

“We arrested Escobar today,” he deadpans.

“ What.”

He turns back and smiles.

“I’m fucking with you.”

You smile, letting out a huff as you shake you head.

”Got me.”

“What are you doing tonight?”

You turn and see the preschool teacher - Maritza, you think - standing to your left. You had been in such a daze as you waited for the coffee machine to finish you hadn’t noticed her come and stand next to you. She was a cute, small woman with big brown eyes and severe bangs, and the way she looked at you now reminded you of a little kid waiting for their parent to give them the present behind their back.

”Probably getting drunk at home and watching bad tv,” you say, turning to face her. “What’s up?”

“A few of us are going out tonight,” she says. “We thought you’d like the join.”

You stop and think of all the reasons going out now, on a Friday night, with a group of other women, in the middle of one of the deadliest cities in the world, would be a bad idea. But you also think of the three day old arepas waiting for you at home and the empty, stale apartment air you’d be eating them in. Your last few months had fallen into such a boring routine (with obvious exceptions) that you had completely forgotten going out was even a possibility. You told yourself you would wait until you had a group of friends to go out with, just to make it safer, but the only person you had gone out with was Javier, just that once.

“Come on,” she said, her round face breaking into a cute smile.

You found yourself smiling back.

”Yeah, why not?” you say.

Maritza tells you she and her friends will catch a taxi over to yours around 8. Ridiculously, you feel giddy as you catch yourself hurrying home. While you had only had a few pleasant exchanges with Maritza over recess, she had the kind of chaotic energy that accompanies all women who voluntarily spend most of their time with children under the age of six, and in your experience those were the bitches who always got the wildest. You were negotiating with yourself how drunk you’d let yourself get when you turned and walked up the stairs, barely noticing Javi in your smoke spot before he called out to you.

”Hey hermosa,” he said. You snapped your head back up, your concentration on whether or not there was really that much of a difference in your behaviour depending on three to four drinks shot. You were just compromising with yourself that it really depending on the liquor when he had called out to you.

”Hey,” you smile, coming to a stop beside him. He holds out a cigarette to you and you take it, popping it in your mouth. Before you can ask he’s got the lighter, and you lean in for a light.

“Want to grab a drink tonight?” He asks once you’ve settled into your spot beside him. You shake your head.

”Can’t. Got plans.”

”Oh yeah?” He turns to consider you. You give him a nod, unable to suppress the smile.

”Girl’s night,” you say. “Preschool teacher asked me to join.”

”The one with the bangs?”

You had told him about her bangs.

”Yep. The popular girls noticed me.”

“Where are you going?” He asked.

You shook your head. “Nope. You are not invited.”

He smiled. “I wasn’t-”

“Oh sure,” you say.

“You should just be safe, is all.” He says. “Stay out of certain places, you know, walk home together.”

“Believe it or not, this is not my first night out of the house ever.”

He frowns. “It’s dangerous. Just be smart.”

“Thanks mom,” you take a drag and turn towards him, your arms crossed. “And what shout I tell Bobby if he wants to go all the way?”

He scoffs and you break out in a grin. Shaking his head, he tosses his filter and moves around you, making for the door.

”Fucking smart ass.”

You’re always too eager to be on time. It’s a bad habit. It always ends with you showing up to parties too early and then it’s just you and the host making small talk over the fruit salad they thought they had at least another half hour to make. Whatever. Tonight that means you just get to spend the next hour looking really hot in your own apartment.

You find yourself standing still for a moment, wondering what you should do. Sitting down and reading seems like a weird thing to do when you’re dressed like this, but neither does sitting and watching tv. You wish for a minute you had been more picky about make up or hair but everything has set and you don’t want to risk fucking with it. You make for your kitchen and pull the bottle of tequila from the cabinet, reaching to grab a glass. You take a quick shot and are about to pour another when an idea runs through your head. You walk down and across to the wall opposite of the couch and knock three times.

You hear faint movement from the other side and grin to yourself.

“Javi?” You call.

A moment later, you hear a muffled “Yeah?”

“You want a drink?” You wait for his response, but instead of answering you hear his door open and close. You smile, pulling another glass from the cabinet when there’s a knock on your door.

“It’s open,” you shout, pouring two fingers into one of the glasses. A moment later he walks in, his eyes on the floor.

“You should really lock that,” he says, turning to watch you walk down towards him with two drinks. His eyebrows raise as he looks you up and down, and even though you’re supposed to be the cool girl who is very unaffected by her hot neighbour who she just sometimes fucks, it makes swell with some pride.

“I’ll be fine, I’ve got a cop next door.” You hold out the glass for him. His eyes flick back up from your waist as he reaches out to take it, wetting his lip with a dart of his tongue.

“Can’t get over here that fast enough.” He says.

“Hm,” you walk over to the wall. “Two knocks for ‘help’, three for ‘I’m fine.’” You demonstrate.

“Or you could just lock your door,” he looks at you over the rim of his glass. You roll your eyes.

“Such a cop,” you toss back your out drink. You wipe your mouth as he watches. “My parents would kill me.”

“Drug traffickers?” He asks

“Almost. Hippies.”

He cracks a smile at that. “This when you tell me your real name is Moonbeam or something?”

“It’s Starlight, actually.” You sit on the couch and gesture for him to join you. He follows your lead, sitting in the exact spot where only a week earlier he had post coitally confided in you. You try and ignore it.

“I’m an agent,” he corrects you.

You kiss your teeth. “Even worse. They’d keel over if they found out baby Starlight fucked ‘the man’.”

“You haven’t for a while,” he says, reaching out to lay a hand on your ankle. You’re embarrassed by how the electricity shoots up you leg, directly to the apex of your thighs.

You laugh. “A week is not a while.” You kick your feet onto the floor and stand, walking back to the kitchen for more drink.

“You sure you want to go out tonight?” He turns and watches you as you pull the cork from the bottle and pour yourself a third drink. So much for that negotiation. You wonder if you can buy bread on the way there. Surely. “My offer for a drink still stands.”

“Mmm, I wonder what that’s code for.” You sit down on the other side of the couch and, feeling bold, stretch your legs out again. “Thank you, but I already told them I’d go.”

He shrugs, bringing the drink back up to his mouth. “Gonna be a boring night,”

You tap his thigh with the tip of your heel. “First I need to be safe, now it’s going to be boring?”

He shrugs again. “Just saying. When you’re disappointed later, you know where I’ll be, hermosa.”

You’re not disappointed.

You and Javier drink for a while longer, swapping stories about Texas and being an expat and dumb, innocuous work shit when you hear a cacophony of giggles followed by a rapid series of knocks at your door. You stand and grab your purse, Javier following in your step as you swing open the door and see Maritza with her two friends, tipsy and giggling on your mat.

“Heyyyyuu guapa,” Maritza says. You’re thankful you weren’t the only one drinking early. The woman behind her- tall and beautiful, you’ll learn her name is Alessa- offers you a small bottle of liquor. You raise you hand to take it as all three of their eyes flick towards the man approaching from behind you.

“Ladies,” he says, hovering behind you. You can’t see his face, but you know the smug bastard is loving every second of this. You recognise the look that flashes across their faces as their eyes flick from him to you, and you smile as you take a quick swig from the bottle.

“Javier was just leaving,” you explain, reaching back and ushering him out by the shoulder.

“Does he have to?” The third girl - Lisa - asks. Alessa gives her a quick seat on the arm.

“He does,” Javier answers, nodding. “You ladies have a good night.” His eyes meet yours for a brief second before he’s turning and walking to his apartment. The girls watch him as he disappears inside as you lock your own door, and when you turn around to tell them you’re ready, the looks on their faces are demanding answers.

Fuck it. You’re drunk.

“Yeah, I am.” You laugh, and all three of them squeal.

Fuck. You had forgotten how fun this was.

The taxi ride over had been a whirlwind of questions and much to the annoyance of the driver, you answered each and every dirty one with as little detail as to remain polite but still subtlety brag that you indeed were fucking the hot guy in your apartment. You missed having girlfriends to gossip with, to giggle over sex and boys. Alessa was married without any kids, but she turned out to be the most curious about you and Javier’s situation. Even though there wasn’t much to tell, you were high on the attention and leaned into each question, a little surge of what could only be feminine pride exploding in your chest when the women blushed at your answers and squealed in delight.

Maritza had said she knew the owner of the club( “she’s lying, she doesn’t know shit.” Lisa laughed with you as she handed you the bottle) you arrived at, and disappeared for a few minutes before reappearing at the back and waving the three of you in. Turns out the owner was actually the janitor, but the result was the same: four passes inside without having to pay. (“Not that we would,” Maritza had said. “But just in case.”). It was thrilling, sneaking through the dark hallways, each of you with their hand on another woman’s shoulder as you giggled, trying to keep quiet. You were drunk enough that you let Alessa pull you onto the dance floor as Maritza and Lisa went to the bar to get drinks. The lights and sounds were overwhelming and you felt blissfully lost in the sea of bodies that, to you, seemed to flow together. When the girls returned, some fruity concoction in their hands, you were already sweating for exertion, and felt larger, warm hands encircle your waist.

For a brief, fleeting second, you thought Javier had followed you to the club, but upon turning around you realised it was very much not Javier. This guy was younger, maybe even a few years younger than you, with big hazel eyes that somehow - alcohol? Magic? - shone through the pulsing lights of the club. Deeming him handsome enough to allow it, you turned and began to grind against him, for a few songs. Finally, during a lull in the music, he leaned forward.

“You’re a shit dancer,” he said

You laughed before reaching back up and pulling him back down to whisper in his ear. “I’ve got better rhythm on my back.”

Messy. But it got the point across.

You felt his thumb on your chin, tilting you up to face him. When he kissed you, he tasted like chapstick and cheap beer. It wasn’t warm or soft or desperate, but it was nice. And nice was enough for you tonight.

The girls behind you cheered in approval when they saw you. Blushing, you turned back to face them, grinding your ass against the growing hardness in your partner’s jeans. At some point during the night you were separated, but you quickly forgot about him when it was Lisa’s turn to pull a man. Doing your friendly duty, you cheered along with Alessa and Maritza as you watched her lead the tall stranger back to the bathrooms, only to reappear fifteen minutes later slightly rumpled but much happier. She did three shots after that.

The night continued to go well- true to you hypothesis, Maritza was a wild card. At some point she managed to crawl on the bar and convince three different men in soccer jerseys to take a shot from between her breasts, before reaching behind the bar and stealing a whole bottle of vodka while the barkeep was distracted. It was only about fifteen minutes before she had passed the bottle to every member of the soccer team when the manager finally noticed and kicked the whole group of you out.

As you stood outside, the four of you giggling and hovering around the equally drunk soccer players, you felt a hand wrap around your waist. Turning, you recognise your dance partner from earlier.

“Hey,” you say. Behind you, your new friends are busy flirt-arguing with the soccer captain.

“Hey,” he says back. “You want to get out of here?”

You give him the once over. He’s cute, toned, and he’s wearing the same jersey as the rest of the teammates. You laugh and look over to the line of taxis, wondering if you’re really about to take this guy up on his offer.

“How old are you?” You ask.

“25.”

You shake your head. “You look like trouble.”

“I am.” He smiles, and you catch those hazel eyes once again.

Fuck it.

You catch a taxi pretty easily, and once you two are in the back seat he’s all over you, pulling you against him to kiss your neck and fondle at your top. For a grown man, he acts like a boy getting to touch his first tit. You send an apologetic look to the driver when you arrive at your apartment after he pays, but quickly forget your embarrassment when he catches you around the waist and pulls you into a sloppy, messy kiss. You’re giddy off the drink and the energy of the night and kiss him back with equal finesse. After a moment you realise you’re still in the street and reach down to take his hand. You’re just outside your apartment door, shamelessly making out, when Javi’s door swings open.

Oh. Oh to be able to record the way Javier’s face falls the moment that cocky smile and planned, snide comment he had ready dies upon seeing another man draped around your back, sucking at your neck. He must have heard you return and come out to bully you into admitting it wasn’t really a fun night without him, and now he’s standing frozen, the extra cigarette you imagine was meant for you caught between his fingers. The man currently sucking a welt onto your neck looks up.

“You want a picture or something?” He asks. You swat his arm and turn, unlocking the door to your apartment quickly before they can engage in some bullshit machismo. You reach down and take your companions hand and urge him to follow you in before shooting Javier an apologetic look.

“Sorry Javi,” you say. “We’ll keep it down.”

And you shut the door behind you.

Look. You weren’t trying to get revenge. It just turns out Isaac (that’s his name) is really, really good at sex. That, or you’re really really drunk. Either way, you’re not the quiet partner you usually are. It doesn’t help that he, unlike the last person you slept with, has a young, heavily exercised back and can flip you into positions like the two of you are competing in couples ice dancing at the fucking Olympics. You even remember, in between rounds, to shove a sock between your headboard and the wall. Not that that really helps, when you’re about eight tequila drinks in and a young, stupidly ripped athlete is railing you from behind.

You also really, really didn’t think that in the morning you would be even awake enough to fuck, let alone do the breathy moaning that’s falling out of your mouth now as he hoists your leg over his side and pumps into you, flicking at your clit like he’s playing a guitar. You honestly, in your still drunk haze, forget that Javier is even on the other side of your wall.

When the two of you finally finish and Issac turns down your offer for breakfast, you throw on a sundress and walk him to the door. The two of you pause before opening the larger door outside, and he leans down to kiss you and assure you that, although it’s such a bummer his team has to go back to Cali, he had a great time with you. You play along, letting the kid have his ego stroked, and kiss him before he turns and heads out the door, into the morning and out of your life. Still smiling to yourself, you don’t realise Javier is standing in his doorway, lit cigarette dangling from his lips with his arms crossed.

“When’s the wedding?” He asks, and you know he’s trying to play it off, to be the cool guy in all of this. But you also hear that buried edge in his voice, and you know you’ve gotten under his skin.

Smiling, you saunter up to him and pluck the cigarette from his lips, holding his gaze as you take a long, large inhale.

“Oh Javi,” you sigh, exhaling. “It’s not serious.”

[holylulusworld]

Opposite Sides - Part 1 - Two Sides of a Coin

Summary: Working at a diner never brought you much attention until not one but two Winchesters show interested in you…

Pairing: Mobster!Dean x Reader, Mobster!Sam x Reader

Characters: OFC Earl Fitzgerald, Benny Lafitte, Cole Trenton

A/N: This is a Mafia AU in which Dean + Sam are brother but hate each other. Something happened years ago which made them part ways. Earl Fitzgerald is Garth’s dad in this story.

Warnings: angst, language, tension, flirting, mentions of sickness, concurrence, both men are brothers but hate each other, one girl between two dangerous men, mentions of characters death (barely), feisty reader

Opposite Sides Masterlist

“It’s him again, honey. Can you take care of your favorite customer or shall I kick him out?” While your boss eyes your ‘favorite’ customer warily you shake your head, patting his wrinkly hand.

“Don’t worry, Earl. He’s cocky, self-centered and annoying, but I think he’s harmless. Let me bring him coffee, pie and the Tuesday’s Special and he’s gone for good.”

‘At least I hope so,’ you think to yourself as you do not want to worry your boss.

For weeks it is always the same game. That wealthy guy enters the diner you are working in, sits at the counter, a cocky grin on his lips and he will only talk to you.

“Good morning. What can I bring you today?” The man’s eyes lit up and he gives you a dirty grin again. 

You would call him attractive, charming even, but you are used to wealthy guys coming through town to check on the girls to have a bit of fun.

“You look beautiful today, Sweetheart.” He is glancing at the missing name tag you refuse to wear as you do not want anyone to yell your name through the diner. “Will you tell me your name today?”

“Listen, you are nice to look at and charming, but I told you I’ve got no time for flirting, dates or anything in between. My life is…” Biting your tongue you pour him a coffee, black, no sugar as he likes it.

“Maybe I can help you, pretty girl. I’d like to help a nice girl out.” His eyes search your face, as he tries to find a way to make you open up to him.

“I don’t need your help, okay. Order or leave it but do not act as if you are interested in me. I know guys like you believe someone working at a diner is easy prey. If you need to get laid, look somewhere else. In this sleepy town we look out for each other and you have quite the reputation…”

“I have?” Smirking he leans closer to brush his fingers over your hand. “What do people say, Sweetheart?”

“I don’t know much. All I know is that there is this cocky guy, green eyes, bowlegs who calls girls Sweetheart. He’s the love them and leave the guy or rather…” Leaning closer, your lips inches from his face you smirk. “The fuck them and leave the girl heartbroken guy.”

“Interesting, Sweetheart.” Using the pet name on purpose the man shrugs his coat off. “I think I’ll stay a bit longer today. I want your Tuesday’s Special, a piece of your cherry pie and more coffee.”

“Y/N, can you help me over here?” You love Earl, you do, but right now – you want to strangle him. He just let your name slip after you managed to not tell the cocky stranger your name for over four months.

“Y/N, nice name for a pretty girl.” Now he holds out his hand and you shake it, while you roll your eyes. “I am Dean, and I’d like to ask you out.”

“No.” His hand won’t let go of yours but you use all your strength and he drops his hand, sighing heavily.

“I will change your no into a yes. If I must come here daily, I’ll do so…” Dean smirks as you round the counter to help Earl clean the table. “You will see, Sweetheart.”

“You can try, but you will not succeed. I do not need a man in my life.” Turning your back on Dean you can see the smirk tugging at his lips.

No other woman ever said no to Dean Winchester – one of the most dangerous men in Lebanon.

“Boss, you sure you want to do this. I can go in, find out why your brother hangs out at the diner almost daily and come back without anyone noticing.” Looking at the diner you are working at Sam shakes his head.

“I have to check it out, Cole. Something seems to be fishy about this diner. According to the information, only three people are working at the diner. Old geezer called Earl Fitzgerald, the owner, his wife Maude and a waitress called Y/N.”

“What’s fishy about a diner?” Cole looks at the papers in the manila folder, not getting why Sam and Dean are interested in a boring diner.

“That waitress, she came to town four months ago, since then, my beloved brother is at this place almost daily. I bet she is one of his rats in town. This is neutral ground. He agreed to not start a business here, just like me.” Sam’s eyes narrow as he watches you toss garbage into the dumpster.

“I’ll wait here, call me if you need back-up.”

“Hello, what can I bring you?” Looking at the tall man who seems to study the menu you try to give him a fake smile.

You are tired, your feet burn, and your head is pounding but you manage to keep a straight face. “Coffee, tea or rather one of our famous milk-shakes?”

The man eyes you warily, let his hazel orbs wander all over your appearance before they land on your tired face. “Coffee is fine, Miss.”

“Anything else? Pie, a burger or a salad? You look more like the salad guy.” The first genuine smile meets the stranger as he nods thoughtfully.

“Salad would be nice. Maybe with chicken and fresh fruits?” His voice is smooth when he asks you about the menu.

“I’ll bring you something, Sir. Just a minute.” When you want to pass him by, he grasps for your hand, to have a look at your wrist. Surprised he raises an eyebrow to not find a tattoo.

“I don’t know how people handle things where you come from, but in our town, men do not touch a girl without her allowance. Let go or…” He drops your hand, mumbling an apology as you shake your head.

“Sorry. I was just…sorry.” The man seems to be confused as you storm off to get his salad.

“I should spit into that bastard’s salad, Sweetie. He just grabbed your arm.” Earl slides his fingers over the baseball bat hidden under the counter. “I can hit him with my bat.”

“Some men believe they can touch a girl as they are used to get what they want. Look at him, Earl.” Pointing toward the tall man looking at you, an amused smirk on his lips. “He looks like that other guy, Winchester.”

“Winchester?” Earl’s heart begins to race as his eyes drift toward the tall man at his table. “Holy fuck, Sweetie. Those are dangerous men!”

“You mean annoying, Earl.” Taking the salad out of Maude’s hands you give Earl a smirk. “Guys like Dean Winchester are all bark, no bite.”

“You don’t understand…they are bad news…” Maude’s stammers as you walk back toward the man to hand him his salad.

“Made with love.” You almost toss the salad onto the table, followed but you, tossing a napkin at the tall man but his smirk never fades.

“You’re a feisty one, I see.” His eyes drink you in once again and he suddenly knows why Dean comes to the diner almost daily. “It’s you, nothing else. Of course,…good…”

“What’s so funny? If you do not want to eat the salad, go to a fine restaurant, and do not waste our time, Sir.” You turn to leave but his hand slides over yours and you freeze as he asks you to stay.

“My name is Sam, feisty girl. Sam Winchester and I’d like you to eat with me. How about we go out tonight? I know a nice restaurant. We could get to know each other better and more…”

He’s self-confident, you give him that, but the bowl with the salad you empty over his head let him not look as smooth as before.

“Listen, buddy. I will tell you the same thing I told the other Winchester. I do not know if there is a conference of you in our nice little town but between the two of us. Neither you nor the guy calling himself Dean will get a chance, okay. I will not spread my legs for any of you. Now move your ass out of here and do not come back.”

Storming off you cannot see Sam starts to laugh with his full body. No girl, not even a guy, ever dared to pull such a stunt. Everyone else would have been too afraid.

“That girl is golden, Earl. You need to keep her.” Sam removes the salad from his hair as the dressing runs down his neck.

“I think this will be my favorite diner from now on. The salad was delicious…” Still laughing Sam tosses money onto the counter before he gets up to leave.

“Have a great day, Sir.” Earl chokes out while you watch the tall man with angry eyes. He gives you a dirty grin, nodding before he leaves the diner.

“Such an idiot…”

“Boss? Uh—what happened to your hair?” Cole looks at Sam who still cannot stop laughing. “Boss?”

“I think that I just found the girl I am going to marry. Feisty little brat. I’ll enjoy taming her for sure.” Looking at the diner Sam chuckles again. “I know why my brother comes here. He’s after my girl, but he won’t get her.”

“Shall I get her for you, boss?” Glancing at his boss Cole gulps hard as Sam shakes his head.

“Nah, Cole. I will have to put some effort into wooing for this one. I told you…” Now Sam’s eyes darken and a smirk appears on his lips. “I am going to marry that one and no one will stop me.”

“Sam was at the diner? He was at my diner and Y/N tossed salad onto his head?” Chuckling Dean cannot take his eyes off you.

You are talking to the nurse taking care of your sick mom, sniffling silently as she tells you something Dean can’t hear.

“Boss, girl looks pretty sad. I got all the information you wanted.” Benny hands Dean a folder as said man cannot take his eyes off you.

“Why was Sam at my diner? Why did Y/N empty the bowl with salad over his head? We need to keep an eye on my beloved brother. I can’t let him get close to my chosen bride.” Lower lip trapped between his teeth Dean groans as you walk into your bedroom to strip your clothes off.

The light is on and you forgot to close your curtains so he can watch you walk around in your underwear. “I dare you to watch my girl, Benny.”

“My eyes are closed boss but I suggest, you should do the same. That’s kinda creepy, Dean.”

“You’re right, but damn she’s making me rock-hard for months. I have to make her mine soon or my dick is going to go on a strike for sure.” 

Snickering Dean sighs as you close the curtains, unaware a mobster just got a glimpse of your panties. He looks up at your window for a moment longer before Benny taps his shoulder.

“I think there is someone else watching your girl. Black SUV, no light to our left. Shall I get the gun ready?” Dean’s eyes drift toward the well-known SUV on the other side of the street.

“Figures. Sammy and I are two sides of one coin. I should have known he will discover my new love interest sooner or later but this time – he won’t win. This time the girl I love will not die due to his mistake. Let’s go…”

“Evening, gentlemen. Nice night to sit in a car and watch my girl. I suggest you and your dog leave this part of the town. It’s neutral ground, so none of your business, Sam.” 

Dean’s eyes narrow as Sam gives him a cold smirk. “Didn’t know she’s yours, Dean. I don’t think that girl is interested in a loser like you. I think…” Stepping closer Sam rolls his shoulders. “She will go for the younger and more potent brother…”

“Yeah. That went well last time.” Teeth gritted Dean balls his hands into fists. “With me, Melody could still be alive. It’s your fault she got killed.”

“It was yours, Dean. You and your jealousy made her…” Sam takes a deep shaky breath before he meets his brother's eyes. “She ran away as you wouldn’t stop causing trouble. It was your fault they found her and…”

“Mine? You couldn’t protect her, Sammy. It was not my fault you forbid me to protect her! I was ready to accept she chose you, not me but you had to cut me out of her life completely! I would’ve killed for her…” Benny needs to hold his boss back as all the pent-up emotions well up once again.

“…and you did, didn’t you? As far as I know, you found them all and it was a massacre according to my little rat.” Sam huffs as his brother looks at his hands as if they are blood-stained like all those years ago.

“I had no choice. You know I had to avenge her. It’s not as if anyone would ever miss those monsters…”

“Monsters. Bold coming from a monster. That’s the reason Melody turn toward me. She was frightened you would hurt her one day. It was fear which made her fall into my arms…” Sam’s words hurt Dean more than a gun or knife ever could. “She didn’t feel safe with you, Dean.”

“Monster…she believed I am a monster?” Sam’s eyes don’t give away it pains him to hurt Dean even more. His brother is like a wounded animal since Melody’s death but he can’t give in. – Not if he wants to win you over.

“I think we are done here. That’s my girl. Hands off, Dean.”

“Well, Sammy. I saw her first and she did not empty a bowl with salad over my head. I think…” Eyes full of mischief Dean straightens his back. “This time the girl will go home with me as…” 

Opening his wallet Dean tosses a picture of Melody, Sam, and him on the Impala to Sam’s feet. 

“...unlike the unstable girl you got killed, Y/N is a strong girl and in the end, Belle loved the beast more than the smooth gentleman…”

Turning around Dean storms off, leaving a stunned and heartbroken brother behind. Sam never thought Dean would toss the only picture he got left of Melody away.

Sam doesn’t know Dean kept on hanging on the thought one day Melody would’ve chosen him…

Tags in reblog.

[elliethesuperfruitlover]

yes i did this during my lunch break (and in english)

General:

Rate the Ship -   Awful | Ew | No pics pls | I’m not comfortable | Alright | I like it! | Got Pics? | Let’s do it! | Why is this not getting more attention?! | The OTP to rule all other OTPs

How long will they last? - Mm, if not lifelong than like a good amount of years. They occasionally also see other people though (poly coded)

How quickly did/will they fall in love? - T had to think about actually dating Klaus before getting into it. She looked into his past, everything. She didn’t want to be hurt. Klaus, however was like “mm, personality, shes pretty, smart, im in.”

How was their first kiss? - It was pleasant, it was random, after T met Klaus’ siblings. It wasn’t out of nowhere, but she was like :Thank you for introducing me to your broken family. *smooch*”Casual, but not casual.

Wedding:

Who proposed? - Klaus did. It wasn’t big either, he was just like “do weddings appeal to you?” and she’s always been on the fence about getting married, but she figured to might as well do it.

Who is the best man/men? - Klaus had Diego as his best man actually.

Who is the braid’s maid(s)? - T had her mom as her maid of honor.

Who did the most planning? - They both did equal planning. They’d talk it over and everything, but T likes to have everything exact, so she looked over everything, over and over until she found it fine enough.

Who stressed the most? - Klaus, actually. T enjoys putting things in order, and planning, but Klaus was worried about how everything would go. He wanted to make sure everything went right, and that most of all, T was happy.

How fancy was the ceremony? - Back of a pickup truck | 2 | 3 | 4 | Normal Church Wedding | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | Kate and William wish they were this big.  It was a forest wedding, so kinda big, but small enough as to where it felt special.

Who was specifically not invited to the wedding?- Anyone that even remotely made T feel uncomfortable. If they were gonna cause issues, they can do it elsewhere. The trees didn’t want to hear arguing. (her one aunt who didn’t want her marrying a white man)

Sex:

Who is on top? - Topazi Um, they’re both switches, but it honestly depends on the mood. If one of them had a rough day, then the other would be the top. 

Who is the one to instigate things? - Either of them, it depends.

How healthy is their sex life? - Barely touch themselves let alone each other | 2 | 3 | 4 | Once a couple weeks, nothing overboard | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | They are humping each other on the couch right now. One look and the clothes are off (or on they’re kinky fucks)

How kinky are they? - Straight missionary with the lights off | 2 | 3 | 4 | Might try some butt stuff and toys | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | Don’t go into the sex dungeon without a horse’s head. T’s fairly kinky, and so is Klaus, so they combine it to create just *sighs*. Their closets have a specific section for sex toys, spicy clothes.

How long do they normally last? - It depends. If they start when they’re high energy, it’ll be for longer, but if it’s later in the day, or after work, it’s for less time. an hour or so.

Do they make sure each person gets an equal amount of orgasms? - Mm, sometimes. If T gets frustrated with herself, and she might be in a bit of a tizzy, Klaus’ll step in and she’ll focus on his pleasure instead of her own. But T usually has more than Klaus, usually 2 more.

How rough are they in bed? - Softer than a butterfly on the back of a bunny | 2 | 3 | 4 | The bed’s shaking and squeaking every time | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | Their dirty talk is so vulgar it’d make Dwayne Johnson blush. Also, the wall’s so weak it could collapse the next time they do it. If the mood calls for it, Topazi won’t hesitate to absolutely ruin Klaus. She really likes it rough, and so does Klaus, but they like being gentle every now and then.

How much cuddling/snuggling do they do? - No touching after sex | 2 | 3 | 4 | A little spooning at night, or on the couch, but not in public | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | They snuggle and kiss more often than a teen couple on their fifth date to a pillow factory. T is touch oriented, and rarely ever doesn’t want to be touched in some way. She wants all of the hugs during aftercare, and Klaus is very happy to give it to her.

Children:

How many children will they have naturally? - None. T thought about having kids, but she doesn’t trust her body, or herself, so she just doesn’t do it.

How many children will they adopt? - They have pets. (a snake and two kitties)

Who is the stricter parent? - T. She’ll be like “Miko, I told you not to jump off the counter.” but Klaus is like “let him be, he’s just a little shaken up.” but no like water bottles, just a mild scolding.

Cooking:

Who does the most cooking? - T used to do a lot of cooking, but Klaus also tag teams her. Especially if it’s a huge meal. 

Who is the most picky in their food choice? - Klaus won’t do oatmeal, or anything mushy. But T is like “if this even looks wrong, I’m not eating it.” It doesn’t matter who cooks it though, she’ll eat from anyone, but if something looks or tastes different than how she’s used to eating it, she’ll eat some out of respect, but in the end may just get more safe things like water, fruit etc. 

Who does the grocery shopping? - Both of them. T writes the list (bc she’s very detailed), and they both get half of the list and tag-team. But T has told Klaus what’s safe, what’s not, all that. 

How often do they bake desserts? - Almost every weekend. They’re both a bit impulsive, Klaus more than T, so they have an entire fridge dedicated to baking items.

Are they more of a meat lover or a salad eater? - T rarely ever eats red meat, and Klaus’ll eat anything, so it’s a big mix between the two of them. She tries to get everything balanced, then she gets cravings and everything is thrown out of the window.

Who is more likely to surprise the other(s) with an anniversary dinner? - Klaus. He likes repaying T, and whenever T tries to do something nice, something pops up and she can’t. It’s also best for him to do tiny things, not big things, so she doesn’t feel like it’s a competition between the two of them. 

Who is more likely to suggest going out? - Klaus. Topazi wants to go out and everything, and she’s impulsive, but never really does anything about it.

Who is more likely to burn the house down accidently while cooking? - Klaus because he almost fucked the kitchen up when he was high and forgot to put his blunt out (the paper towels caught fire, yada yada)

Chores:

Who cleans the room? - T does a lot of cleaning. Not that she feels like she has to, she just enjoys it, plus it gives her a sense of completion.

Who is really against chores? - Klaus sometimes. It’s not that he doesn’t want to, they usually just creep up on him when he really doesn’t want to do them.

Who cleans up after the pets? - Both of them do it equally. Klaus moreso than T though, because one wrong inhale and she’s ill.

Who is more likely to sweep everything under the rug? - Klaus. He can forget about something and it’s just gone. His object permanence is shitty.

Who stresses the most when guests are coming over? - Neither of them. T likes company, and people over, but she does try to make sure no naughty things are left out for people to see.

Who found a dollar between the couch cushions while cleaning? - T almost threw it away, (it was balled up), but she was like “hmm my brain is trying to tell me something” so she was like “oh hells yeah money”

Misc:

Who takes the longer showers/baths? - Depends, but mostly Klaus, because he does his thinking in the shower (like his dad). T, however, knows she’s gonna look like a fucking cherry when she gets out, and she needs to keep her skin not flaky.

Who takes the dog out for a walk? - Um-. If they had a dog, it would be either one of them, but Klaus more often than T, because when she’s painting or gardening, she can’t be bothered to focus on anything other than what she’s doing at that moment.

How often do they decorate the room/house for the holidays? - Very lack-luster. For xmas, they have a tree, but T puts stupid shit around the house. For Easter, she painted an egg pink and labeled it as “the easter bunny’s left testicle” and for Halloween, they have a spooky corner. She can’t do pranks though, she understands them, but she’ll scream then immediately kick to defend herself.

What are their goals for the relationship? - T wants to enjoy what life she has with Klaus. She just wants someone to love her and keep her company.

Who is most likely to sleep till noon? - Both of them. Topazi likes cuddles, and sometimes the sleep is so good you have to just stay down. Plus, she’s her own boss, and their animals are smarter than they initially thought, but if she hears the fucking snake tank open, her eyes are wide fucking open. 

Who plays the most pranks? - Even though she gets a bit frustrated from them, T likes to do cute pranks. You know those toys that you throw and they stick to something, she’ll do those. And Klaus throws like sticky tack at the wall. Those she can handle. But she doesn’t understand the purpose of someone fake sneezing on her. (like me, please dont do that shit, i dont like it)

[whiskey-bumblebee]

Hello lovely! After 5 weeks of being trapped in the house I wondered if I could request a bit of escapism with some holiday romance with Pale? Many, many thank-you’s in advance!

Same here pal! Sheesh, I know I’m an introvert but 4 weeks of lockdown has been interesting to say the least! That said, I hope you enjoy this!

Jump

Pairing: Pale/Reader Word Count: ~2000

Pale tossed and turned for weeks over it, your first holiday together. Wanted it to be a surprise but a good one, didn’t want to fuck it up. Looked at Cuba, Puerto Rico, the Bahamas, even Alaska. You’d been working yourself to the bone recently, deserved some time off. 

There was a TV Pale walked past every now and again when he was working his ass off too, and sometimes he’d see some blonde on a boat, singing about the wonders of cruising. It looked a little bit like hell, being stuck on a boat that long, but once he started reading about it, it started looking pretty fucking good.

Entertainment on board, it wouldn’t be Broadway but hell, with your lips around his cock in the back row it didn’t matter, did it? All your meals cooked for you, buffet and fine dining options, sun loungers out on a deck somewhere, docking at a tropical island for the day and snorkelling, whatever you were meant to do on an island.

“Baby, do you gotta minute?”

“Mhm, what is it?”

“Could you get some time off work if you asked real nice? Just a week or so?”

“Probably,” You started to smile and walked over to Pale from where you had been doing your eyebrows in the bathroom. “And by probably, I mean yeah, I’ve been savin’ my vacation days.”

Pale pulled you down into his lap, kissed under your ear. “How’s a vacation sound then?”

“Sounds good, what do ya wanna do?”

“You,” Pale smirked. “I was just thinking I’d do ya somewhere different.”

You rolled your eyes with a smile. “Where have you booked?”

“Haven’t yet, wanted to check with you first and make sure you wouldn’t hate it or nothin’. You seen those big fuckin’ cruise ships that take you outta Miami?”

“Yeah,” You started to light up, getting all excited.

Pale stroked the side of your face. “How about one of those? Eatin’ and fuckin’ and swimmin’ in the bright sunshine all day. Sounded real nice to me.”

“Where to?”

“Jesus you ask a lotta questions. Don’t gotta be to nowhere, they started selling trips where you just sit and get fed and look out the window and don’t stop anywhere, but wouldn’t that be awful? Anyway the Bahamas or something, a day in Cuba, I think I’d like Cuba.”

“Baby, at the moment even Cubans don’t like Cuba,” You teased, played with your man’s hair. 

“Then we stay on the boat the whole day and fuck, go to shows, go swimming, dancing, whatever. Fuck if I care.”

But you could tell he did care, he’d gone to so much trouble to research all this for you. Knew all the answers to all your questions, had a million ideas about what the two of you would do.

“I’m in, should I pack?”

Pale smiled wide, wider than you’d seen in a while. “Yeah, pack.”

* * * * * * * * 

The flight had been fine, New York to Miami. Pale had rented a car so the two of you could drive around for a few hours before your ship left. Miami looked so alive, crawling with rollerbladers, men kissing men and all sorts.

“Fuckin’ hot as hell. Gonna jump in the pool just as soon as we get on the boat.”

“Same here. Do ya think I have to wear a top?” 

Pale glanced at you and you shot him a wink. 

“You better, Jesus Christ. Think I’d die of heat stroke and a heart attack at the same fuckin’ time. Wouldn’t even fit on my death certificate.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at your man, complaining even now, even here.

“Pale, I love you so goddamn much.”

“Yeah, yeah. Still don’t get it but I believe ya.”

You were quiet for a moment then, content to listen to the pop on the radio. Pale had ceded and let you play the billboard hits for an hour or so while you were driving. It had to be quiet but it made you laugh, seeing this tough grumpy man driving through the neon streets of Miami with Van Halen playing.

“Do you miss Miami?”

Pale was quiet, drummed his fingers across the steering wheel as he thought.

“Some of it.”

You nodded, knew if he wanted to talk about it, he’d keep going on his own.

“The coke here is cheaper, but the cops are all over it. Weather’s good but it gets boring. College kids all over the damn place sometimes. It’d be nice to see my kids more. Nice to have the beaches nice and close. You know, normal shit.”

You nodded and rested your head on his shoulder. 

“You wanna go and say hi to them while we’re close?”

Pale turned his head slightly to kiss your forehead. “Where do you think we’re going?”

You sat upright then, looked at him, surprised.

He smiled. “Yeah I wanna see ‘em. We only got an hour or so left so the missus can’t get too wound up, I’ll be in and out.”

“Am I... Do you want me to-”

“Nah, I’m gonna drop you at the mall if that’s okay. Don’t want you to see it, she gets pretty loud.”

You nodded and went back to resting on his shoulder. “You want anything?”

“Pack of cigarettes, don’t know what else we’re allowed to take. Maybe some Twizzlers.”

You wrinkled your nose. “That your holiday food?”

Pale hummed in affirmation. “Yeah. Helps me get rid of all the tension in my jaw ‘cos it’s like eating rubber.”

You smiled, picturing a younger Pale chowing down on a pack of Twizzlers, chewing real hard.

* * * * * * * * *

“C’mere, you’re gonna get all fuckin’ pink on your shoulders.”

“Pale do you got a timer set or somethin’? You’ve been at this every hour on the hour,” You teased.

“It’s hotter out here than it is in New York. You’ll burn easier, just wanna take care of ya.”

“What time do you wanna get dinner?”

“Maybe 6:30, show starts at 8 so that gives us time.”

You nodded, melted into Pale’s touch as he rubbed the sunscreen all over your chest and shoulders.

“Do you wanna go to the restaurant proper? I think it’s Italian or somethin’.”

You hummed as you thought of a basket of dinner rolls with fancy little bowls of butter, then spaghetti and pizza. 

“Yeah, sounds real nice.”

“Can you wear the blue dress? That one with the sparkly shit on it?”

You nodded.

“It’ll look real nice with the ocean and the lights and everything reflecting off ya. We could get a photo taken or whatever.”

“We can get it printed nice and big and hang it in the apartment. Can ya let me read my book for a minute, sweetheart? I’m dying to finish this chapter.”

“Alright, alright, I’ll stop being a menace.”

Pale picked up his own book, a thriller. You couldn’t help but let your eyes wander down his torso, following the trail of hair from his bellybutton to the band of his swim trunks. 

“You know, we might need to go back to the room for a snack,” You said under your breath. “Getting a little peckish.”

Pale glanced at you over his book. “Oh are we?”

You nodded and pulled your lip into your mouth. “Just let me finish the chapter.”

Pale shuffled a little awkwardly and draped his towel over his lap. 

You didn’t even have to look away from the pages of your novel to know what the sound of the towel moving was. 

“Go jump in the cold pool, you menace,” You teased.

* * * * * * * *

The show was great, the costumes were amazing even if the set was sparse. Pale’s hands had wandered more than you could admit without blushing. In the interest of time before the show, you’d skipped dessert. The 24 hour buffet would serve you well.

While you helped yourself to carrot cake, Pale made small talk with the chef dishing the hot food. 

“Shit shift, huh?”

The chef laughed. 

“New Yorker?” His accent gave his own origin away, and you could sense the rapport that grew straight away.

“Yeah, taking a bit of a break with my girl, wanted to get some sun.”

The chef nodded. “It isn’t a great shift but there are always a few schmucks who come for dessert after the show. Real nice to see the stars though, rather see the sunset than work through sunrise on breakfast.”

“Jesus fuck, you guys gotta be up at four or whatever to serve us assholes cornflakes?”

The chef laughed again, a hearty laugh, and you joined Pale, looped an arm around his waist. 

“Thanks for sticking around, sorry to be one of the post-show schmucks.” You said sheepishly.

“Nah, you guys ain’t got nothing to worry about. Nice to meet someone who actually sees me as a human fuckin’ being.”

Pale nodded in commiseration. 

“What do you do in New York?”

“Restaurant industry, actually,” Pale replied.

“No shit! That’s nice. Manhattan?”

“Yeah, 90 percent of the time. Hey, uh, odd favor to ask but any chance I could come into the kitchen and see what’s going on? Must be a helluva lot of food back there, industrial ovens and shit.”

“Yeah, of course man. Let me hook your girl up with some cream though first, cake gets a little dry this late.”

You smiled. “Thank you.”

 * * * * * * *

“Pale, it’s beautiful.”

“Yeah you are.” Pale swooped in for a kiss.

“Careful, sun’s making you all soft,” You smiled.

“Don’t you worry, I’ll be back to normal as soon as we’re back stateside.”

Pale lay out the picnic blanket on the sand. You smiled at the way the wayfarers sat over his nose. 

“So what’s in that bag of yours?”

“That guy I met the other night, the chef, he gave me a bit of bread and some fruit salad. He said it wasn’t enough to save to put out tonight so it would’ve gone to waste.”

“And this?” You laughed as you pulled out a bottle of champagne. 

“Thought you might like a mimosa or somethin’. Gotta stay hydrated.”

You sighed with a wide smile and lay down on the picnic blanket, soaking up the sun and the love you felt for Pale.

“Thank you.”

Reaching out with your eyes still closed, you fumbled to hold his hand. 

“He’s a nice guy. Might help him out with a job or two once we’re back.”

You hummed. “You getting nervous? All that talk about being back?”

“A little. There’s a reason I’m the top dog over there, I’m the only one who can keep that shit all happening like it needs to. Fingers in a bunch of pies and all that.”

“But you’re glad you’re here?”

“Of course sweetheart. Probably would’ve keeled right over if we’d stayed, I needed a break. Can’t say I feel any less tired with how often we’ve been fuckin’, but still.”

You laughed and swatted at Pale with your hat, then moved it back over your face.

“I checked with some of the crew who know this island and they said you’re all good to whip off your top, even out the tan lines. Locals don’t care.”

“Oh really?”

“Yeah, so c’mon, roll over. I’ll untie ya.”

You half-heartedly rolled, enough for Pale to reach the strings of your bikini top.

“Don’t go gettin’ too excited,” You teased.

“Too fuckin’ late, I’m hard as a rock just from seeing you in the bikini.”

You laughed. “Pass me a grape or something?”

You stayed on your front for now, didn’t feel like showing off your tits to the whole beach just yet. Pale took a grape out of the salad and extended his hand over to you. With a deadly smirk on your face, you licked the sweet syrup off his fingers, then sucked the grape out of his grip.

“Baby, that ain’t gonna help my situation.”

“C’mon then, I’ll feed you one.” 

Pale’s eyes widened and you laughed as you pulled a piece of melon from the salad. 

He shook his head with a smile and bit the melon from your fingers. “You’re a terror.”

You laughed again and he couldn’t help but smile at the sound.

“What now?”

You glanced at him from under the floppy sun hat.

“Lovers of New York, Book Two: The Terror Goes Tropical.”

[monsteronfire]

Dragon Hart | Pt 11

Hybrid!JM x Reader/OC x Hybrid!JK

Dragons are the most rare, sought after hybrids in the business. Considered the most dangerous of the hybrid class, they are categorized by very specific personality traits and are owned only by the highest standing of society. When Hart finds a pair that are considered “defective” because of their personalities, she knows they could be killed and feels obligated to take them in despite never having owned any before. Still a dragon is a dragon, can she really survive owning two at once?

———

“Hey, sorry!”

Tae pouts dramatically at you, shoving a bottle of wine into your hands without replying. Hobi’s carrying a cheese tray with crackers, fruit and various meats that he hands off to you before they both start removing their winter gear. Jimin and Jungkook stand silently behind you, a little on guard, though you’re sure not nearly as much since they actually know your two guests.

“Fuck I hate the snow,” Hobi finally says, ruffling his hair as if to get said snow out of it.

“Yeah, it really rolled around all of a sudden,” you mumble back, turning to carry the gifts into the kitchen. Jungkook follows diligently, his hands held out to catch anything you might drop. The others follow you as well, Jimin greeting them both with a soft smile.

“How’ve you been, Chimmy,” Taehyung questions and Jimin softens at the affectionate nickname, giggling a little.

“Good. Miss Hart treats us very well. She’s very kind to us.”

His cheeks are pink as he speaks and you can’t seem to look at him out of embarrassment when he praises you like that. Jungkook only greets Hobi once you’ve set everything down and he does it quietly, as if he’s afraid to even speak. You’re not sure if it’s because your friends are coming or because you being mad at him really fucks him up, but your mind is racing too much to go in depth about it.

“You’re sure you even want us here, Hart?”

“Yeah... yeah, of course,” you say, finally letting Jungkook do something and take the tray of food into the living room for you. You hand some glasses to Jimin who’s smiling sheepishly at you, though he’s trying to look sweet for you. He knows you’re still upset and it’s made even worse by your anxiety. You hand a few more glasses to Taehyung, grab what’s left and the bottle of wine, and urge everyone to follow Jungkook.

“You guys know way more about dragons than I do, so if they have questions I figure you’ll do better at answering them. Plus having other people here... helps me.”

A knock at your door makes you shoot up from placing glasses down and you feel yourself go slightly dizzy from the anxiety. Jungkook calls out to you softly, his hand warm on your lower back. They’re here already? You didn’t even need to buzz them in! Your head is a mess of racing thoughts, but still you move to open the door and greet them.

“You guys didn’t even buzz,” you say as you open the door. All three of them stand there in winter coats. Jin grins when he sees you, Namjoon grins when he sees Hobi and Yoongi doesn’t grin at all, but frowns even more when he spots Jungkook and Jimin behind you.

“Yeah, that hot girl that lives on the floor below you let us in.”

“Yeah after about five minutes of Jin flirting with her,” Joon adds. He slips past you and makes his way to Hobi, the two of them smiling before sharing a quick kiss.

“So what, you two dating now or something?” Tae asks, looking skeptical. Or rather more like he thinks they’re dumb and/or is teasing them. Hobi turns a glare on him, rolling his eyes.

“Maybe. So what if we are?”

“You guys have only met a few times and literally just drunkenly slept together like four nights ago.”

“I wasn’t drunk, were you drunk Hoseok?”

“Hoseok? Disgusting.” Tae’s smirking as he says it though, more jabbing fun at his friend than actually offended by their union. Hobi sticks his tongue out at the kid, shoving him lightly when Tae retaliates with his own childish gesture.

You let the other two in and finally notice that Jin is holding tubs of potato, and macaroni salad while Yoongi holds two boxes of crackers. You snort at the sight, remembering the cheese and meats tray on your coffee table. As if this were some kind of small party or something. Maybe it was their way of easing the tension and seriousness of the meeting. When your trio of friends finally cast their attention on your hybrids the room falls silent, reminding you why you’re doing this. You close the door and usher everyone into the living room.

“Well, let’s get this started.”

They all file in; Jin, Yoongi, Joon and Hobi taking the couch; Tae taking your armchair and the dragons standing opposite the sofa back by the TV. You stand in front of Jimin and Jungkook, each on either side of you, and thank whatever gods when Jin takes the time to crack open the food before you start. It gives you time to think and lets you know he’s not upset enough to let it affect his appetite.

“I’d like to start of by apologizing; not only because I didn’t say anything, but also because I put Yoongi in danger. You three are my oldest and closest friends, and I betrayed your trust by keeping quiet. I had my reasons, mainly your safety.”

Yoongi snorts derisively and it feels like a jab to your stomach. Still, you continue.

“This,” you motion from one side of you to the other, bringing their focus to first Jimin, then Jungkook,” ... is Jimin and Jungkook, the two dragon hybrids that went missing from my work.”

Jin immediately freezes, his hand poised halfway between the food and his mouth, and his eyes are wide. Yoongi looks a mix of shocked, pissed and a bit worried, and Joon is just pissed. He sighs heavily, his head falling into his hands when he sits forward.

“For fuck sake, Hart. Are you serious?”

You can’t tell if he’s pissed because you’re causing trouble, or because he’s worried for you. Jin puts down the cracker full of cheese and potato salad, still trying to process what you just said.

“I’m confused,” he suddenly says, “... are you telling me that the two hybrids that the police have been investigating about at your work- the ones that were stolen- are the two hybrids in front of me right now?”

“Yes...”

“You,” he pauses a moment to collect himself, his rage beginning to match Namjoon’s.

“You fucking stole two of the rarest and most expensive hybrids in the world, and are now keeping them in your home?!”

“Y-yes.”

“Jesus-fucking-Christ, Hart. What the fuck were you thinking?!”

Yoongi is joining in now and- as you’d suspected- all three of your friends are furious with you. You feel Jungkook nearly pressing himself into your back, probably feeling the tension in the room and wanting to protect you. Or maybe he was just anxious himself and wanted your comfort. Jimin remains where he is, though his hand is now clasping your forearm just below the elbow, as if to comfort himself.

“I’m sorry. I should have told you sooner, but I was trying to keep it from you in case something happened. If I’d been found out I didn’t want you guys to get in trouble because you knew anything about it.”

“You fucking stole from your job! Why?! You’ve never even ran a red light before! What the fuck made you suddenly want to break the law?! Are you insane?!”

You wince at Jin’s shouting and now Jimin is crowding you just as Jungkook is, but you can feel his fingernails growing and sharpening. He’s starting to lose control. You turn and whisper to him, needing to put your hand on his cheek to bring his attention back to you.

“Jimin, calm down. They’re worried, that’s all. They don’t know else to express it.”

He looks at you, but you can still feel his claws poking your arm.

“Damn straight we’re worried,” Namjoon cuts in.

“Hart...”

Jin doesn’t even know what to say anymore, instead standing and beginning to pace the room. Yoongi remains silent on the sofa, just glaring at a spot just behind you. You call Jin’s name and urge him to sit down, but all he does is move back to his spot and stand there.

“Do have any idea what you’ve done? What could happen to you,” Joon questions, seeming more calm.

“Yes, of course. You really think I just did this on a whim? I had a reason.”

“A good one?” Yoongi gripes and you glare at him.

“Yes. Look, each species of hybrid has a main personality archetype. If their personality is outside this norm, they’re considered defective and a lot of them are usually euthanized for it. The less market there is for that species the more likely it is they’ll be killed. Dragons are the rarest breed out there and these two are labeled as defective. If they’d stayed at the center they probably would’ve been killed.”

“So you took them?!” Jin asks loudly.

“Well I can’t exactly afford them, Jin!”

“And I suppose you two helped her?”

He motions to Tae and Hobi, and both immediately shrink away from him.

“Well I don’t work with larger species of hybrid and I needed inside men. Plus I needed help with how to care for them.”

“This could get so bad, so fast, Hart.” Namjoon says.

“I know. I didn’t do this lightly, you guys. I thought it over for almost a month before I decided. Something like defective hybrids is rare at our facility. I couldn’t just let them die.”

“What if you get caught?” Yoongi finally asks.

“I mean do you have a game plan? What if they do what they did the other night only you can’t stop them?”

“I know the dangers. I know what’s at stake. That’s why I didn’t want to tell you. I didn’t want to force you into those dangers as well. Tae and Hobi agreed to help me. We all know what we’ve done. Yoongi I’m so sorry about the other night, that was my fault. I knew the risks of going out like that and leaving them alone. I was stupid and you all suffered for it. But I did this, it’s done. I can’t go back now. I illegally own two dragon hybrids for their safety. I can’t undo this. And I don’t regret it.”

The room is silent, Jimin has calmed down and Jungkook is now holding your hand. Hobi and Taehyung look somber, but determined as if they too were denouncing their regret for it. Jin, Yoongi and Namjoon look like they’ve all just received terrible news. Joon puts his head back in his hands, Yoongi is chewing on his bottom lip and looking off to one side, and Jin finally falls back into the sofa. You don’t know what else to say, so you simply stand there waiting.

“I’ll understand if you guys want to distance yourself from me for a while. Until we’re sure things have cooled down. I can’t hang out much until these guys imprint anyway.” You finally say sheepishly, smiling weakly and holding up the hand Jungkook is holding. Jimin is pushing against your side possessively.

“Imprint,” Joon asks.

“Yeah, that’s sort of why they flew off the handle the other night. Dragons are pretty protective and possessive to begin with, but their emotions are unstable until they imprint on their new owners.”

Still they’re silent after that and when Taehyung stands-heading for the kitchen- he pats your shoulder on the way.

“Give them some time to process. Hobi’ll stay and talk it out with them,” he mumbles quietly to you. You nod and motion for the two dragons to follow him. They do albeit hesitantly.

“I’ll leave you guys alone to... process.”

And you leave them. You enter the kitchen where Jimin is moping at the island, Jungkook is fidgeting on the other side and Taehyung is busy rummaging around in your cupboards. You let out a puff of laughter and make your way to the island. No one says anything for a long time while you all sit in there, but you hear mumbling and talking out in your living room. Taehyung snacks on random things and while you give him looks, you don’t really have the heart to tell him to stop every time he pulls out something new. You’re in there for nearly an hour Hobi finally enters and sends you in to talk to them.

“Yoongi...”

He’s up and making his way to the kitchen, hands stuffed in his pockets though he looks much calmer. He shakes his head and shrugs, looking off to one side.

“It wasn’t something you could control. And I guess I get why you kept it from us. Just be careful, okay Hart? It’s water under the bridge for us, but Jin’s really worried, so.”

He thumbs behind him and you nod, wanting to hug him to solidify his forgiveness, but thinking better if it. Jimin can still see you from the kitchen. You thank him quietly before making your way to the sofa to speak to Jin and Namjoon.

Yoongi continues on into the kitchen, accepting the offer of a bag of nuts Taehyung is holding. He watches the hybrids out of the corner of his eye and while the taller one- Jungkook- seems to not be paying him much attention, the smaller one is watching him. Jimin’s eyes are so sharp and clear that it makes Yoongi’s skin crawl, and when Taehyung finall leaves the kitchen to use the bathroom, the dragon moves closer to him. The hairs on Yoongi’s arms and neck stand on end. There’s tension in the air and he gets the feeling this Jimin kid isn’t planning to apologize.

“She’s ours, you know,” he finally says, his voice low and even- breathy and calm.

“Eh?”

“Miss Hart... She’s ours now. She brought us home and took us in to be her hybrids. One big difference between dragons and your run of the mill mammal hybrids is that we claim our owners as much as they claim us. You may be her long time friend and she may care about you, but she belongs to me.”

Jimin turns to fix Yoongi with a heavy, unblinking stare. Not a glare, not full of anger or hate. There was no desperation or anxiety in his eyes. They were simply calm, steady and dangerous, and Yoongi can’t look away. They promise harm should he ever cross the line again.

“She’s mine. You won’t touch her ever again.”

Feeling idiotically bold, Yoongi decides to test him.

“And if I do?”

I rumble comes from both dragons, though Jimin’s mixes in with his words. He speaks in a growl.

“We’ll have a similar encounter as last time, only she won’t stop me from killing you.”

The day ends with the boys forgiving you for the most part, though Yoongi seems to be keeping himself more distant than before. Still, Jimin and Jungkook seem calmer around Jin and the others, and when they finally leave early in the evening you have to say you feel much better. The boys are even being more affectionate and comfortable around you than before. You end the evening with Jimin snuggling into your side and Jungkook falling asleep on your shoulder while you all watch a movie.

———

Previous :: Next

a/n; So the first part of the texts between Hobi, Tae and Hart are to be read to the tune of Total Eclipse of the Heart by Bonnie Tyler. 😂 I just wanted some comic relief. This is so long and I’ve had a fuckin day y’all. Anyway enjoy!

@mygukandonly, @j-i-m-i-n-e, @spongebobgotstruckbylightning, @hannahdinse8, @morgsstudies-blog, @asifetch7, @flowerbin131

[nothingeverlost]

lenny/midge please? 'when i first saw you, the end was soon'

And the award for most cheerful prompt goes to...

Set a couple of years in the future.  Trigger warnings for drug references.  Loosely based on historical events.  Do I have to warn for swearing in a Lenny and Midge fic or is that just assumed?

I’m still finding my feet with these two.  Feedback is much appreciated.

@phoenixwrites @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels tagging you for obvious reasons.

“I needed a ride home because I didn’t have my wallet.  That doesn’t mean you’re obligated to cook for me.  I’ll be a good little boy.  No booze, nothing up my nose.“

II

“Do you know what I thought the first time I saw you in front of a room?”  Lenny was in the passenger seat, half slumped against the door.  She had the heater on despite the fact that it was June in California, but he was still shivering.

“That I was a lightweight in addition to being a complete mess?”  Two hits from a joint and she’d not only completely forgotten to introduce the band, but she’d committed the sin of getting too serious during a set.

“I thought there she is, finally.  It’s going to be okay when I’m done because she’s there and she’d just getting started.  You stood up there and you were real.”  He held up his hand and gestured at the window as if pointing to a stage that was three thousand miles away and years in the past.  “And I knew that arrest wasn’t an anomaly.  You were going to take on the world and you were going to be a hell of a lot better at it than I was.”

“Do you have an oven?”  She hated California traffic.  If she was in New York she could have just relied on cabs but they were rare around here and cost too much when everything was miles apart and so she’d rented a car.  In the moment, though, she was glad to have something else to focus on.  

“Do I have a what?”  For just a moment he sounded like himself, not the shadow that had called her from the hospital.  He’d repeated himself twice before she’d realized it was him.

“An oven.  You’re renting a place, right?  My hotel doesn’t have an oven.”

“I think they’re pretty standard in a kitchen and I have one of those.  Midge…”

“I’m making a brisket.  We’ll stop at the store when I see one and pick up a few things.  You can stay in the car if you want but a little walking would be good for you and I don’t know what you like and what you hate.  For eating.  I don’t see you eat very much, you know?  We’ve shared what, half a dozen meals together and half of those were pretzels and nuts.”  ‘When I’m done’ he said, and she was talking like if she said enough she could stop hearing the echo of it in her head.  He could have been done last night, according to the nurse.  

“I needed a ride home because I didn’t have my wallet.  That doesn’t mean you’re obligated to cook for me.  I’ll be a good little boy.  No booze, nothing up my nose.  Just me and my bed for the rest of the day.”  He struggled to sit up in the seat.

“You’re too thin and you need some red meat.”  Midge pulled into the parking lot of the first grocery store she saw.  “Oh fuck, you just made me sound like a Jewish yenta.”

“The last thing I think of when I see you is yenta.”

“Sure.”  No, he thought of her as caring on a tradition or some shit that let him off the hook.  “Are you coming in?”

“Why not.”  She often thought of Lenny as dancing, even before the first time they’d been on the dance floor together.  He seemed to glide as he moved, to sway, nothing so banal as just walking.  As they walked through the parking lot his steps were almost mechanical, as if he was trying to remember how humans moved.  She nodded to the carts; maybe having something to hold onto would help him.

She’d forgotten it was Valentine’s Day.  The moment they walked through the doors they were assaulted by red and pink hearts, sales on steak, and plastic cupids ‘flying’ precariously over the produce department.  Great.  She was twice divorced (from the same man) very single, and stupidly in love with a man who apparently thought of her as his replacement.

“The brisket will take hours so I’m getting some chicken soup.  I hope their deli has a decent one.  We need carrots and potatoes.  You should have some fruit too; I hear oranges are good out here.”  She pushed the cart through the produce department first, adding apples as well.  Some lettuce too, for a salad with dinner.

“Midge.”

“If I know you there’s probably not much in your fridge.  We should get some milk and some cheese.  And we’ll get some crackers, those are good when your stomach is upset.  How do you feel about Jell-o?”  She led him to the meat department so she could get the brisket.  

“Midge.”

“I prefer a butcher for my meat, they know their cuts better, but sometimes you just have to settle.”  At least the man behind the counter seemed to know what he was doing.  

“Miriam.”  She couldn’t ignore him with a hand on her arm.  Couldn’t move forward.

“This is where you want to do this, Lenny?  Here, surrounded by yogurt and paper hearts and discount packages of frozen vegetables?  What do you want me to say, though I’m okay with you trying to kill yourself because hey, I’ll be around to pick up the pieces and my life will suck the moment I get that phone call but at least I will have something to talk about when I’m on stage?”  It was so goddamn cold.  Someone needed to change the settings on the refrigerators before the milk started freezing.  Midge reached for the cart but stopped herself.  “Make your own damn brisket if that’s how you feel because fuck you.  I lived my life for a man once and I am never doing that again.  This is my life.  I’m not here to replace you or continue your act or whatever the hell it is that you want.”

It wasn’t hard to pull away from him, breaking his hold.  His hand was trembling.  “I’m not trying to kill myself.”

“You’re not trying to not kill yourself either.”  He’d lost too much weight, his clothes hanging off him.  The shadows under his eyes spoke of a lot more than a missed night of sleep.  Heroin, the nurse had said.  From her own experience there was alcohol too, and marijuana.  And missed meals.

“I just need a break from all this.”  His hand fluttered near his forehead.  “It makes the world stop for a little while.”

“Ma’am, someone reported a disturbance back here.  Is this man bothering you?”  A man in a very bad sweater vest and a name tag that said “Manager Chip” approached them.  Midge almost laughed.  Disturbance?  He didn’t know the half of it.

“We’re fine,” she lied.  “My husband is just out of the hospital after a bomb exploded in his office and he’s a little hard of hearing still.”

“Yes ma’am.  Sorry to bother you.”

“A bomb?”  Lenny cocked his head to the side.

“Would you have preferred syphilis?” She sighed.  “We should go.  Leave the cart, someone will sort it out.”

“I’ve heard stories of this brisket of yours.  Legends.  I’d like to see if it lives up to the rumors.”

“Lenny.”  He was smiling for the first time since she’d seen him six months ago in Chicago.  That damn grin of his, the one she never saw on stage but only when they were alone, was a curse.  It could get her to do almost anything.

“You’re no one’s second act, Midge.  I didn’t mean it to sound like that.”

“You’re not replaceable.  Not on stage and not off it either.”  She’d been using Lenny Bruce as a measuring stick since she’d seen him in college.  It wasn’t fair to him, and really wasn’t fair to other men, but somehow he’d become a part of the center of her universe.  She either needed to pull away completely or she needed to stop hiding from it.  “I don’t want to lose you.”

“You’re too good for me, Midge.”

“That is the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard you say.  You can decide to be my friend or you can tell me to fuck off.  You can be my lover or you can tell me you’re not interested.  Decide for yourself but you don’t get to decide for me.”

“I can’t promise you a future, I don’t know how much I have in me.”  It scared her to know that he only spoke the brutal truth.

“I’m not asking for promises.  I’m asking for you to sit at a table and eat soup while I make dinner.  I’m asking you to sleep in a bed and tomorrow we’ll see if this town has anything that passes as a deli.  And maybe, if you want, you can talk to me a little.  We’re pretty good at not talking to each other, maybe it’s time we try something different.”

“How novel.”  He closed his eyes for a moment.  The soup might need to wait until he’d had a nap first.

“I’m not just getting started anymore, Lenny.  I’ve been around the block.  I know enough to know what I want and what I can handle.”  She grabbed the cart.  They needed to get out of the grocery store.  Melting down on stage was enough without adding grocery stores to the list.

“You can tell I feel like crap because I don’t have a single joke ready for what I’d like you to handle.”

“I’ll give you a twenty-four hour grace period.  You can give me your best joke tomorrow.”  Thank God she didn’t have a show tonight.  

“Tomorrow.  Yeah, okay, I can do that.”  He walked next to her, hands in his pockets.  “Don’t forget the Jell-O.  I like the green one.  But if there are any vegetables in there I won’t eat it.”

“How do you feel about pineapple?”  

“I wouldn’t object.”  They stopped in the baking aisle for Jell-O and a cake mix.  One of the paper hearts had fallen; she didn’t see it until she’d rolled over it with the cart.  It felt like the setup for a joke in her act.  She hoped it wasn’t a sign.

“Let’s go home.”

[jctko]

Jetko week, day 1: Confession

Hi folks, here’s my shitty late contribution. I had a world of difficulties with this piece, but I also enjoyed it and felt like I got to vent a little. It’s a bit more Gen than most of my fics, but it was made with Fleabag in mind so...

i. confession

Dear Jet

Please come to my wedding.

Thanks,

Katara.

-

The first time Jet sees the priest, he’s in the bar on the way to Katara’s house. It’s a little bar on the corner of a main street, with a green sign and blinking lights. It is very distinctly English, in the sense that the mist and fog clambers up the windows. But the warm light beckons him in, and before he knows it he’s sitting at the counter waiting for a beer.

Jet lights a cigarette just as the door opens once again with a jingle of wind chimes. 

He’d be a young man if not for the red scar stretching his skin taut. It kind of makes Jet’s heart drop to his stomach, if he’s being honest. From the moment he appears, Jet identifies him as a man of contrast. Sharp white skin beneath a black turtleneck, interrupted by violent red.

The man glances at Jet and narrows the one eyebrow he has left. “Something interesting?” Jet shakes his head. “Not at all.” Then, before he can even feel it, a smile is splitting his face in half. “Hi.”

The man ignores him, instead going to the other end of the bar and ordering a scotch on ice. Red-gold liquid slides, languishing around white ridges of ice. Jet snorts and finishes his beer, leaving a tip. “See you,” he says to the man.

-

It’s Katara’s engagement dinner. Technically, Aang should be there too, but he’s doing something with the rest of the monks. It’s a nicer restaurant than Jet’s used too, a barn location with minimalist food. It’s not exactly what Jet would choose. Glasses swirl around him, and a lazy jealousy fills Jet’s chest. He knows that he needs to reassess his meds, but recently they fill him with an icy numbness that burns as much as it chills. 

“Putting pine nuts on your salad doesn’t make you a grown up,” Katara is laughing.

“Fucking does,” Jet mutters under his breath. 

There’s a bit of a rustle, and then someone is sliding into the one vacant seat. “So sorry, I was- traffic,” Jet is wondering how there could be traffic in a town as small as this when his eyes make contact with red. That’s all there is.

Katara moves in for a hug and then turns. “Jet, this is Zuko. He’s the priest! And Sokka’s best friend.” Jet nearly scoffs but simply waves his hand in a friendly gesture. Zuko just watches him, which makes things really awkward considering they’re sitting adjacent. The two of them sit around their meals, listening to the conversation as it sloshes around the table like water in a fishbowl.

Jet’s gaze slides around the table, and he allows himself a moment to think. There’s Katara, of course, and her father. Then there’s Sokka- who is clearly not going to address Jet in the time of this conversation. Her eyes are alight with that practiced happiness that has eventually become real. 

There’s a crash and some yells, and Jet realises he’s dropped his glass. Red wine has splashed out across the tablecloth, leaving everything a kind of musty pink. 

“Shit,” he mutters, and then repeats it so everyone can hear. “So sorry, I’ll just grab a- some tissues- ahah.” He gets up and is blocked by a speedy waiter. That’s the kind of restaurant this is. Jet turns back to the table, and is met with multiple pairs of second-hand-embarrassed eyes. “I need a piss.”

He turns and goes not to the bathroom, but past it to the alleyway.

The lighter sparks in his fingers to the point that he nearly drops it. Who in their right mind has a wedding in November! He curses, but halts at the sound of a soft voice. “Careful.” He looks up and sees a woman; red hair bobbed to her shoulders and eyes the type of blue he can’t catch in the moonlight.

“Thanks,” he says, but all there is is shadows passing over a dumpster. The air smells kind of like blood, so he covers it up with nicotine.

He’s halfway through his cigarette when the door opens and the priest steps out. There’s no eye contact, but Zuko awkwardly shuffles closer. 

“Want a cig?” Jet holds it out and Zuko takes it in silence. “So you’re a cool priest, huh? Cigarettes and alcohol,” Jet laughs as Zuko glares. They don’t know each other well enough for this kind of banter. 

Smoke drifts through the alley in its comforting disgust. “Who were you talking to, just then?”

“What? Oh, nothing.”

Zuko turns to go, clearly satisfied with their interaction.

“I wasn’t staring because of your scar,” Jet says suddenly, and Zuko stops at the end of the street. He makes a half-turn, and his gaze glances over Jet’s body. “I have a few grizzly scars too, so it made me-”

“Our scars have nothing in common.” Zuko raises his speed and is soon gone. Jet chuckles to himself, pitifully.

He leans his head back against the brick and feels static in his scalp. Cool wind soaks over his skin, bathing him in a type of quiet light. 

“That was smooth.” It’s the same voice of the woman before. She’s amused. “Thanks, Suki.” He doesn’t open his eyes, instead hearing the soft ramble of her voice. The cigarette burns to the filter and he finally drops it into a pile of trash. His stomach burns something awful, like he’s going to throw up. He turns and heads to the car. 

-

Over the next day, Jet finds himself thinking about the priest. There’s not any reason to, it’s not like they’ll bump into each other before the wedding. But there’s something about that frightened scowl that reminds Jet of the kids he helps in social work. He’s known several kids who go to religion as a source of healing, but most of them haven’t exited it.

He doesn’t know what it is that brings him to the churchyard. Not the building itself, of course, but he finds himself lingering among the gravestones. Part of him feels slightly dead, he thinks. He finds kinship with these people below the ground; no doubt by now rotting and hollow like old fruit. 

“Are you stalking me or something?” His attention is tugged to- of course- Zuko. He’s even in his priest habit, a black thing with a white collar. It looks good on him, Jet thinks, in the time it takes to process Zuko’s presence.

“It’s illegal to go for a stroll through the graveyard now, is it?” 

“It’s morbid,” Zuko tilts his face so that he’s giving Jet his good eye. “You don’t know anyone here, do you?”

“Sure I do,” Jet grins and puts a piece of grass between his lips. He found it on the border of the property, “Or- I don’t know them yet, but I will one day.”

If his eyes don’t deceive him, Zuko makes a snort. He twists away from Jet, catlike as he starts to walk along the path. He stops down by a grave and reaches to pull weeds from the flowerbed. Florence Doyle, 1874-1917. Beloved wife and mother. 

“Poor woman,” Jet mutters, tracing his fingers along the stone rendered green by time. Some of the other headstones are now so old that they are illegible- this woman will join them one day, Jet thinks. And so will I. “I wonder if anyone at all visits her.”

“The dead don’t care. Those aren’t them, just skeletons under the ground. They are with God now.” Zuko pauses, because he is currently doing just what he thinks strange, “This is my job. For the presentation of the church.” He frowns a little and pulls out the final weed. 

He starts to head back to the parish but Jet clears his throat. “Have dinner with me tonight, at the pub.”

Zuko doesn’t answer.

-

Jet goes anyway, waiting at the bar for someone that might not even come. He’s got a pint of beer inside him already, but all he does is watch the horse races on the pub TV’s. It makes him feel like more of a waster than usual. He sips foam from his glass and sighs. This is hard. Zuko sets down beside him, and sniffs. 

“Why’d you come?” Jet asks, and then regrets it. His voice sounds slightly raw under the influence of alcohol, and he’s been finding it difficult to sleep. Someone behind him reminds him that alcohol is a depressant, but he ignores it. “You didn’t have to.”

“You are very uniquely irritating,” Zuko shrugs and the bartender immediately goes for the usual. Jet is quiet; watches the man unscrew an amber bottle and pour it over rectangles of ice. It burns like fire, like Zuko’s eyes, swirling around the shimmering ice. Jet realises he’s missed hearing that. It feels like years.

“I am very unique.” Zuko laughs at that. It’s a frightened sound, like a mouse. Jet doesn’t dare look in his direction as he says, “Would you like to walk back to the parish after this? I could do with some night air.”

-

They walk in silence through the streets. Jet knows him. This is a sensation that grows inside him over the moments that they spend together. They go for almost an hour without talking, and the sounds of Zuko’s breath makes something clench in Jet’s chest. 

Without speaking, they drift into the church. Jet has never been religious. He tried to be for a time, but it didn’t really gel with him. He believes that something might be out there, but it certainly isn’t embodied by men of cloth- God would never exist inside a capitalistic system. He smiles at his own predictability.

A shadow moves at the corner of his eye and he turns without thinking. A curve of red hair glances out behind a pillar. He twitches, takes in a deep breath, and accepts the fact that Zuko is looking. 

“Who are you looking at?”

“No one-”

He winces at the twist of his words. “I would like to make a confession.”

-

He sits awkwardly on the wooden seat, his hands fumbling. He doesn’t know how to do this. “Well, I have a lot of sins to begin with,” he laughs awkwardly, “Sodomy, self-pleasure, queerness. I’m a manic depressive wreck who is clearly possessed by something wicked, and I think my former self drowned a village or something because I just can not get a break.” He laughs around his fist, his fingers gripping his skin a little too tightly. “But mostly I think I’m just- everything is wrong. It’s never felt right. And I wish- I wish I could believe in God, because I just wish I could step in a direction without wondering where it’s taking me.”

He waits for something, anything, but Zuko remains quiet behind the wooden screen door. Not a breath escapes either of them, the tension lingering in the atmosphere that smells of pine and sweat of thousands before him.

“I want love but I don’t know if I can get it. Because I- I had love once and- and I lost it.”

“Katara?” “No. Some- someone else. And it was a different love.” He closed his eyes, “The kind of thing that makes me know what I’m going to do tomorrow. I’m going to call her, I’m going to arrange tea, I’m going to compare traumas. I’m going to look after her and I’m going to be looked after. I had it, once, and it was so much more beautiful than anything I can describe to you. Not a thousand encounters with heaven could ever compare to the beauty of that stability. But the stability was broken, and I can’t ever get it back.” His hands shake. “You can’t fix a relationship with a dead woman.”

He swears he can hear voices travelling past the confession box. He hears his name in a soft, cool voice. 

“The only reason I was invited to this wedding was pity and concern.”

Zuko makes a sound and Jet feels like he’s crumbling inward. He’s not okay. He wishes he were okay. It feels so much less escapable the older he gets, as if he’s wandering the earth in a cage of his own mind. Something burns, like alcohol, and he wishes he were still at the pub. The opposite of taking his suffering away, he feels it washing through him like a tsunami of pain. He is silent, not even making a whimper. Not a tear leaves his eye, and yet he sits there feeling like a marked Cain. A struck Abel.

The curtain slides open and he tilts his face upwards, to where Zuko stands above him with a face of calm understanding; pressed into that testimonial frown like paint over cement. He doesn’t say anything and he doesn’t move. His golden eyes look like honeycomb moons; and before he knows it, Jet’s starting to cry. At least a year’s worth of tears build up and crash; and he rocks his body forward so his face is buried in Zuko’s habit. He shudders and sputters, nearly gagging from the pain of it all. A hand rests on the back of his head, holding him stable. 

He cries so hard that hours must have passed; though it is still dark. All the energy is gone from his body by the time he wipes his eyes. Zuko doesn’t look at him, but it’s not from embarrassment. It’s from respect. 

It’s pretty obvious that Jet can’t walk home tonight. Silently, Zuko leads him back to the parsonage and gives him a bed to sleep in. Jet’s words are all gone, his throat completely wracked. Still, Zuko senses the note of panic at the motion of leaving. Still clothed, Zuko slides into bed beside Jet. 

He’s still there when Jet wakes up.

[ayatosblade]

ML fanfic - Don't stand close to me

I spent the night almost without sleep, and had to get up earlier than usual.

Pajama party in girls company, arranged in my room, had consequences: drowsiness, headache, and a sore neck.

I went to the library with a little delay and was immediately sent to a complete knockout by Vladimir.

“Your brilliant change of image will not save you from work today,”

He said, disappointed at the mustache I had on my upper lip.

“Everything you need is on that table. You can proceed.”

He slammed the door behind my back, and left. I sighed while grabbing the cleaning materials. Dusting these old books would've probably take me the whole day to finish. They were many, and in many different languages. Some even in braille, for Raphael who spent a lot of his time reading despite his blindness. He was also the kindest to me, while Vladimir was very authoritative and very scary when angered. “Remind yourself to not lie.” I whispered.

Ethan terrified me, at first, but as I was his Chalice, it started to slowly change.

Sometimes he would hang around pretty women with his friend, Beliath, and that bothered me. I hated Beliath and his Don Jovan attitude. I wanted to spend more time with Ethan, who, despite his aversion to humans, didn't hate my presence.

As the oldest, Aaron was kind to me too, but I barely saw or had a talk with him. The one who spent all of his time inside and locked up was Ivan, the youngest vampire of this imposing manor, aggressive and often unable to control his bloodthirst. I shouldn't continue to blame and hate him for that accident, as he was turned only recently and the others were trying to help him get used to this new condition. The thought of that almost made me fall from the ladder I was on. Cursing Vladimir for giving this kind of punishment. Not that I didn't like cleaning and ordering books, but I'd rather not do the higher up shelves by myself.

"In case you forgot I'm still human, you jerk."

I said, pissed. If Ethan heard me, he would laugh. He was probably still sleeping on my bed. Sunlight was harmful to vampires, even if they lived inside a manor. I gave a quick look at the clock on the wall. It had gotten midday, and I was starving. I threw the cleaning cloth on the floor, and got out of the manor. The place I wanted to eat was my favorite, and it wasn't even far so it didn't take me long to arrive. I knew the town streets perfectly.

The barista girl was my friend from the orphanage. She smiled and offered me a seat, while I waited for her to bring me a cup of cappuccino and two sandwiches. After, I would ask for a piece of cheesecake and some pudding, or fruit salad. I was definitely going for a fill, and stay at the cafe for as much time I wanted to.

Who the fuck cared if the mighty Vladimir didn't see me at my workplace? He thinks he has more rights in that house manor, left to me by my deceased parents?

Hungry and angry, I took a bite from my sandwich.

“You look awful.”

Noemie’s voice woke me from those damn thoughts. She stood in front of me, with another smile.

“Is everything ok?” she asked, while putting away the empty plate.

I shook my head.

“The mustache looks cute.” Noemie said, as she sat on the chair in front of me.

“Don't ask about it.” I told her, and took another sip of cappuccino.

Sooner or later, I'll get my revenge on you, Beliath.

“What are you smirking at?” Noemie asked.

She stood up shortly afterwards, as her boss called her angrily and saved me from answering. I finished my cappuccino and stood up too, paid for my order and decided to take a short walk around the shops. I wanted to buy a new pair of leather gloves for Ethan. Not a book or a watch, he would probably hate those.

I stopped by a men's store that had a discount. My attention fell on a pair of goatskin leather gloves, with a zip on the side. I smiled, picked up the gloves and made my way to the cash desk.

“Please, pack them in a gift box.” I said.

The man stared at my face for a few seconds, not listening to my request and that bothered me.

“Excuse me, but can you...” Snap out of it!

I screamed internally.

“I'll take those and leave, if you don't want to take my money!”

Had to say this to snap him out of his daydream.

The weird guy packed my gift as I paid, and I noticed the manager staring at him, but I ignored it, taking my gift and leaving.

In the afternoon, the streets got more crowded and noisy. I walked across the river, trying to clear my thoughts. I sat on the bench, but got up after ten minutes, as seeing a kissing couple made me feel jealous. I wanted to fall in love and go on dates too, not a walk on the wild side.

A flashback of that night ran through my mind, reliving that scary moment in a single heartbeat. How I almost died, and how my life became my worst nightmare. It would have been better to die, was what I thought back then. I was nothing but a blood bag, living my days in a manor house ruled by six peculiar vampires. Saved from death by one of them and making me his chalice, or forbidding me from being free from that bond. Not that it was impossible to break it, there was a way and I just didn't like the first two options.

Options, yes... I thought.

I had two options: get what was mine from a solicitor, and kick those bastards out, or make them treat me as the rightful leader of that damn manor and had them pay their rent.

“Superior beings my ass,” I shouted, while a stranger laughed. “You've been messing with the wrong person.”

Fired up, I took a deep breath and resumed my walking. I still had some time left to sightsee since the weather was nice, but I changed my mind and decided to go back.

I pushed the door open and got inside the manor. Laid my stuff on the table and drank a glass of water. I returned to the library, but done with cleaning. Instead, I choose a book and went to the salon. I leaned on the couch, and started reading. The content was enjoyable, but still I yawned and slowly, I fell asleep.

…

I blinked my eyes open. There was a hand playing with my hair and another one holding the book between my legs. He let go of that long strand of black hair and I felt his soft fingers touching my cheek. His black leather gloves were thrown on the wooden table.

“Ethan,” I whispered. My eyes met his, he was kneeling on the carpet.

“You're cute when you sleep.” he said, smiling.

I sat myself up, removing that strand of hair from my face. He stood up on his feet.

“Why are you here?” I asked.

“Because I'm hungry.” Ethan replied.

“You didn't go with Beliath?” I asked again, while stretching my arm to him, but he pushed it away.

“I don't want your blood.” he said, annoyed.

That puzzled me. Ethan managed his bloodthirst perfectly, but he would drink my blood every time after waking up. I stood up from the couch. Maybe he was feeling unwell, after last night.

“I'll go get some water from the kitchen.”

I left him there for a few minutes, and returned hiding the gift behind my back.

“It's for you.” I said, my heart beating fast.

He raised his head and his eyebrow. I loved it when he did that.

“What's this?” he asked, while taking the small package from my hand and unwrapping it.

I was a little scared he might reject it, but he didn't. He was surprised and happy.

Guess he liked it. I thought, while watching him.

Just that smile was very alluring. He didn't try the new gloves on, but he got up and took me in his arms. “Don't stand so close to me,” he said, as he went into his room in the blink of an eye.

Not able to hold back his rising feelings, Ethan put me on the bed and leaned over. His body on me. He delicately brushed off my hair to the side of the face, and stroked my cheek. As he looked into my eyes, I closed them and did not move away, as if knowing what would come next. He kissed my neck, and ran his finger down the center of my chest. I shivered from his touch.

To be continued...