#he looks like a donut with cinnamon powder on his face

[jangmi-latte]

you will always be my pretty boy with constellations on your perfect nose and cheeks 🫶🏻

[bewitchingbaker]

vi's coffee order is so off the fucking wall, but… plain black coffee with cinnamon, rosemary, chili powder, ginger, and cardamom. a real punch in the face type of coffee, like it's spicy. sometimes milk. but never any sugar. he's the only person that orders his coffee like this, too! and... a plain croissant. that's his order every time! and poor chris is gobsmacked over vi being pretty af every day when he comes in to make that order.

Angela Luna stared at Vi for an eternal moment. A hand twirled those curls for a second in thought. Those big brown doe eyes blinked for a moment before showing that familar glazed look she was known for. Despite being able to charm and even trap some of the world's most omniscient Lovecraftian beings, customer orders always eluded her. No matter how complicated they were, she would forget. She was often called the Lunas lone Space Cadet

You ask for a coffee with 3 sugars? You'd get an order with just cream. Specialty donut? You better hope she grabs the one you want by accident.

At least she remembered Vi as Chris's 'friend'.

However, the youngest Luna somehow managed to remember every aspect of Vi's off-the-wall order. He had his cursh's coffee memorized so well, he had a section of spice's near his station labeled 'Special'. Without any magic, Chris appeared with the artist's order.

A fresh croissant in one hand and his coffee in the other. It wouldn't be an appearance from Vi without Chris blushing up a storm and staring at him with nothing but awe. Once they watched him leave, Angela stared the receipt and then at her nephew.

"How do you remember all of that?!"

The baker shrugs.

"I mean it's a fairly simple order for such a pretty customer~"

[ @moonspower ]

[luveline]

Ooh since you’re looking for Sirius requests: how about Sirius with a reader whos very sleepy and cuddly and drowsy??

i did shy!reader I hope that's okay! like shy when NOT tired, so sirius gets surprised and affectionate too ♡ fem!reader

"What's the matter with you?" Sirius asks.

You stop rubbing your eyes to peek at him, surprised. "Nothing," you say honestly.

He takes your arm to stop passerbys from trampling you where you stand in the middle of the pavement. It's dark, but the city centre is well lit, late October drizzle kissing the tops of your heads. When he realises you aren't going to move away, Sirius pulls you under the awning of a nearby cafe, the smell of cinnamon and fresh fried donuts thick in the air.

"Are you tired?" he asks. "I thought you'd last a little longer. You didn't get up until two."

"Think I messed up my body clock."

He grins at your usual sheepishness, guilt an undertone as he says, "Think maybe I'm the one that messed up your body clock, poor thing."

You wave your hand, a common gesture for you that means Sirius, shut the fuck up. Please.

Though you've never said fuck in front of him. That part is imagined. And enjoyable! He daydreams of your shy features pinched into a curse and has to wrap his arm around your shoulders to contain his fondness.

He gives you a good shake, thinking you're going to remove yourself from his affections any second now. He'd hoped his official status as your boyfriend might encourage you to be more openly yourself with him. No such luck yet.

Not that Sirius doesn't love you like this. You're perfect, he doesn't care if it takes you a little while to warm up to certain actions or if talking about your feelings makes you giggle nervously. But he also doesn't want you to have to deal with the silent internal battles of being shy. Doesn't want you to think you can't be whoever it is that you are without apology.

"Sorry," you say, because of course you do, face fallen into the skin just shy of his armpit, "s'like my eyes are giving up."

Your quietness doesn't startle him but your actions do. Affection from you is thick and sweet when he gets it, but sparse, like the slow drip of a syrup spire. This open show of fondness throws him for a loop. Several loops.

"Nah, don't be," he says quickly.

Not his coolest line.

"You're so..." You either forget you're talking or give up. Sirius can't believe it. You're his, you always have been, and seeing it this clearly is nothing short of an epiphany. He couldn't be more in love — not with your pretty features creased in fatigue, not with your hand on his hip, not with your fingers toying with his belt loop. He think this might be the most he can ever love anyone or anything, his tired girl, but then you remember what it is you'd been attempting to say. "So lovely."

Oh my god, he thinks.

"You want to get donuts before we go home?" he asks. He needs to spoil you. Donuts were the first thing he thought of; if you want something else, he can make that happen. Whatever you want, you can have.

"With the powder sugar?"

He squints at the donut truck across the cobblestone square. The picture on the display menu looks like donuts covered in powdered sugar but the light rain obscures it just enough that he's unsure. He doesn't want to make promises he can't keep. He'll just have to keep it.

Even if that means visiting every dessert truck or patisserie in the whole city.

"Obviously powdered sugar ones," he says, nosing at your forehead indulgently.

You laugh all pleased and peony-pretty, your glossy lips and glassy eyes both shining in the white lamppost light as you lift your chin to smile at him. You look soft as a petal. He wants to feel your skin under his fingertips and decide for himself if it's true and he almost does, but you pitch your face down into his neck before he can get there.

"You might have to carry me, baby," you say. Apologetic, hands clasping around his waist to lock him in place.

"Done. Donuts first?"

"Yes."

He knows you're a ticking time bomb and that every second spent here under the awning with you is another second he'll spend coaxing your sleepy body into the car, into the flat and into bed, but for now he holds you against him and rubs your upper arm.

A slow, slow drag.

[stayndays]

the five senses of boyfriend!skz

“what is it like to have a skz member as your boyfriend?”

a/n: this is my twist on those “skz as boyfriends” posts :> also, this has been in my notes app for literally months but i just forgot about it until now?? lol. i hope you enjoy this! i quite like the concept myself ^^

disclaimer: the “taste” section is up to you as long as it’s sfw FKJDSKJ. so it can mean what you.. taste when you kiss them, or it can be metaphorical for all i care! we are pure in this household. innocent. 

what is it like to have chan as your boyfriend?

sight: his goofy smile when he wakes up next to you, late nights at the studio surrounded by audio equipment, his bare chest when you snuggle up with him 

hearing: the sound of dishes falling in the sink, the shower turning on followed by his singing voice, his keyboard clacking through video calls

smell: korean barbecue, the laundry detergent the boys use, the ocean

touch: the fuzzy material of his hoodies, the veins of his hands, his curly hair after taking a shower

taste: the sweetness of chocolate, and a dash of sea salt

what is it like to have minho as your boyfriend?

sight: his rolling eyes and cheeky grin, cat scratches all over your body, the daily snow filter selcas he sends you everyday

hearing: soonie, doongie, and dori’s meows and purrs, his teasing compliments, heavy breathing after dancing in the studio

smell: dark red rose, holiday candles, cat food(...)

touch: his sweaty forehead after practice, his heart pounding against your ear, the corner of his lips you always tend to poke

taste: sometimes faint cinnamon, sometimes those cheesy chips he eats all the time 

what is it like to have changbin as your boyfriend?

sight: his burning red face whenever you do something even slightly cute, late night car drives through the rain, the pitch dark movie theaters

hearing: his loud giggles even if you only made a stupid joke, his gentle raps in the studio at 1 am, a lot of yelping

smell: masculine cologne, a faint hint of rain, the strawberry scented shampoo that he borrows from you

touch: the softness of gyu, his face you like to hold in the palm of your hands, the two of you playing footsies under the table

taste: the spicy ramen noodles you two eat at 2 in the morning

what is it like to have hyunjin as your boyfriend?

sight: his head thrown back with laughter, picnic blankets and baskets, the polaroid photos he takes without you noticing

hearing: dramatic squeals and groans, kkami barking, kdramas in the background

smell: maple syrup, a hint of lavender essential oil, cherries

touch: wiping his tears away whenever a sad scene pops up in a webtoon, the braids you made in his hair, the bouquet of flowers he gifts you every month

taste: a refreshing glass of lemonade

what is it like to have jisung as your boyfriend?

sight: studio ghibli movies, his questionable late night texts, the strip of photos you take at photo booths together

hearing: the bells that jingle when you enter your local bakery together, his random bursts of singing, the comforting words you give to each other

smell: blueberry muffins, pine trees, the strawberries that top cheesecakes

touch: your arms linked together, his hand ruffling your hair, his chubby cheeks when you poke them

taste: buttered popcorn and sour gummy worms

what is it like to have felix as your boyfriend?

sight: rainbow sprinkle scattered all over the kitchen counter, freckles that look like constellations, the shower stained with hair dye

hearing: video game sounds from his switch, his gleeful hums in the morning, his quiet singing voice

smell: fresh cookies straight out of the oven, vanilla extract, mint leaves

touch: the soft blanket both of you share, his body entangled with yours, his hands massaging your back after a stressful day

taste: cotton candy, specifically the pink one

what is it like to have seungmin as your boyfriend?

sight: the flashes of his camera, sights of nature, museum exhibits

hearing: recordings of him singing when you can’t sleep, the music playlist you made for each other, his cheeky laughter when he gets away with a prank

smell: the scent of a public swimming pool, a freshly bought book, fried rice

touch: the knitted textures of his sweaters, his hand holding yours, blades of grass from the ground

taste: quite odd and random, but powdered donuts

what is it like to have jeongin as your boyfriend?

sight: an alarming amount of cereal boxes in the pantry, his sweater paws, arcade claw machines packed with plushies

hearing: the freezer opening late at night, soft snores coming from his side of the bed, the sound effects in the game “among us”

smell: the animal feed at zoos, freshly picked daisies, his breath in the morning(...)

touch: his hand when he wants to compare hand sizes, the fuzziness of dandelions, the butterflies blooming in each other’s stomachs

taste: bread covered with honey

[writer-ish]

31 & 32 cliche prompt for Ethan & MC

cliche tropes + prompts list #31. “You’ve got something on your lip, here let me.” #32. A soft smile before leaning in for a kiss

Dr. Ethan Ramsey looks up as someone enters the diagnostics team’s office. 

His heart does an embarrassing little stutter when he sees who it is: Dr. Brooke Spiers. 

He takes her in for a moment, enjoying the quiet second he has to do so. There’s a pen behind her ear that he knows she’s entirely forgotten about. Her copper curls have that midday tousle to them—a result of a morning of unconsciously running her hands through her hair. Dressed impeccably, but a little bit rumpled, she’s entirely familiar to him and entirely Brooke. 

She’s also precariously balancing a clipboard, two coffees, and a plate of — Ethan peers closer — a plate of what looks like an edible incarnation of diabetes in her hands. 

“What—” he greets, with no preamble, “—is that?”

She shoots him an incredibly pleased look as she carefully sets down her collection of treasures. 

“Get a load of this,” she responds, voice teetering on the edge of giddy as she places one of the coffees closer to him. “The coffee maker in the staff lounge will make you literally any drink you want. And they refresh the snacks every few hours.” She pushes the plate of sugary sustenance closer to him. “The donuts alone, Ethan—” 

“You do realize we’re doctors, right?” He raises an eyebrow at her. “I can feel my glucose levels rising just by looking at that plate.” 

“Oh my gosh,” she groans, lifting the lid of her coffee and taking a sip. “Live a little!”

He catches a distinct scent emanating from her aromatic caffeine blend and he can’t help but smile slightly. 

“You’re still drinking those Espresso Romanos?” 

She shrugs, blushing slightly in a disarmingly sweet way. “Someone convinced me they were pretty tasty, actually.”

“Mmm,” he hums, in a sort of pleased acquiescence. “What did you get me?” He lifts his own cup and takes a cautious sniff. 

“Cappuccino with an extra shot of espresso and a sprinkle of cinnamon on top,” she answers cheerily, taking another sip of her own coffee. “But of course.” 

“But of course,” he repeats in a low murmur, cautiously taking a sip of his go-to morning beverage. A warm glow spreads across his chest that had nothing to do with the hot coffee. After tasting it, he pulls back and looks at the to-go cup with surprise. “This is actually… exceedingly well done.” 

“Isn’t it?” she chirps, reaching over to grab a powdered donut from the plate of treats. “Have one of these.” 

“You know I don’t eat until one o’clock,” he responds, trying not to allow himself to be tempted by the cruller that had just caught his eye. 

“Okay, Mr. Intermittent Fasting, we know.” She rolls her eyes as she takes a huge bite of her donut. A glob of raspberry jam lands on the underside of her wrist. “Whoops.” After chewing and swallowing, she leans forward slightly to daintily lick it off. 

“Thank god it’s just you in here,” she snorts, before unabashedly taking another massive bite. 

Ethan has never considered himself a person who gets particularly aroused by another person eating. It’s not even on his top ten list of kinks, if he’s being perfectly honest. 

But there’s something incredibly—sensual about the way Brooke’s tongue flicks out to lick that jam. The way she so clearly relishes every bite of the donut she holds in her hand. The little groan of pleasure she lets out as she hits the soft, fruity middle. The sprinkle of powder that sits on the corner of her upper lip, even as that pink little tongue darts out to try and lick it away. 

Ethan knows he has officially lost it if he truly finds Brooke eating a goddamn jelly donut to be an erotic experience, but tell that to his pants that suddenly need a slight adjustment as he sits across from her, staring. 

He clears his throat. 

“You, uh—” 

She looks up at him guilelessly, that damnably tempting powdered sugar still resting on the crest of her lip. 

“You’ve got something just—” He taps on the corner of his own mouth. 

“What, here?” She swipes at the opposite corner, mistaking his gesture for the wrong side of her face. 

“No—” He lets out a helpless laugh before just giving in to the inevitable. “Just c’mere.” 

Leaning forward across the desk, he reaches over to tap lightly at the corner of her mouth where the sugar rests. She meets him halfway across, her eyes sparkling as she realizes his intent. 

“Let me get it.” With a soft smile, he bridges the gap between them, gently pressing his lips to hers, licking softly at the corners and in the inside of her mouth. 

She tastes sweet, and a little tart, and entirely like Brooke, which, if he’s being honest with himself, is the only dessert he really ever needs. 

He glances at the cruller again. 

Well, almost the only dessert. 

[happys-crazy-queen22]

Title: Coffee Shop Romance

Gif credit @cactiem

Requested on wattpad

Happy Reading Dollies

Hope you all enjoy

You were dragging yourself to work when you saw the coffee shop in your distance, you needed a large coffee to keep you alive after the night of no sleep.

"What can I get you"? A young man in his late twenties, early thirties asked as you looked at the menu. You knew what you wanted but they always had something different each week for a pastry.

"Um, A very large coffee, with cream and sugar. Lots of sugar. Then I'll have a chocolate chip muffin, a bear claw and a apple tart with powdered sugar. A Danish and a powdered donut". You say with a smile that turned into a blush because he was staring at you with a cute grin.

"Would that be it? We have this amazing blueberry cake with a lemon glaze. It's so good".

"I think so. I'm not a fan of blueberries. Thanks though".

"Not a fan of blueberries? What"? He dramatically gasped with a laugh.

"Just not my thing. Not a fan of strawberries either". You say as you swiped your card.

"Are you even human? Everyone likes strawberries". He chuckled going to get your items.

"If you had a spicy pastry then I'll buy you out of it. I'm really into spicy things. I guess my job made me that way". You say as you started eating your muffin.

"What do you do"?

"I'm a firefighter at Chicago fire department".

"No way"? He stopped what he was doing and walked over to the counter.

"I use to work there myself. I'm Peter Mills".

"No way. Your dad is a legend".

"Yeah, he is. That's why I wanted to be a firefighter".

"Then why did you leave"?

"I didnt want to end up like him. So I came here to help out. My family owns this shop".

"Well I do have to say you make killer coffee and breakfast food. It has kept me alive for a long time". You chuckled pushing a piece of hair behind your ear.

"Are you on your way to work now"?

"Yeah. I'm kinda running late but I worked a double yesterday and didnt sleep good last night so it's okay".

"Oh. Well you have a safe day and I'll see you tomorrow morning". He smiled handing you your baggy of goodies and your coffee.

"Thanks, have a good day".

"I'll think about adding something spicy to the menu". Peter spoke before you walked out.

"I can't wait". You simply said with a smile as you walked out the door.

After a few months of visiting the coffee shop on your way to and from work Peter and you became quite good friends. He even made you a tester for new food he was thinking about.

"Taste this". You opened your mouth and he laid a harmless little donut on your tongue. Wrong, as you started chewing it up.

"Hot, hot, very hot". You fanned your mouth as you looked around for something to cool it off with. Peter laughing.

"What..was...in..that"?

"Fire balls, cinnamon and some cayenne pepper. Hot isn't"?

"That is not the definition of that donut".

"But was it good"?

"Yeah, strangely it was. With a nice glass of cold milk it would be great. I'll like some of this for the guys".

"You think they'll like them"?

"Yeah, they're wonderful. Kinda like you". You bit your lip waiting for Peter to catch on and surprisingly he did, fast.

"Me, wonderful? No, you're the wonderful one". He blushed.

You looked at him and batted your eyes softly. Taking a piece of cake that was on your plate and slowly put in your mouth.

Peter gulped. "Do you want to go out with me"?

"I thought you would never ask. Yes". You smiled and leaned closer to him. You could tell he was a little nervous but you pecked his lips with yours and got up from the table.

"Where are you going"? He asked with a chuckle.

"To get ready for out date of course". You blew him a kiss and went on your way. Peter relaxed in the chair and blushed like crazy, he couldn't believe it.

Peter didn't say where you were going, he picked you up from your apartment and drove around.

"Where are we"?

"Just wait and see". Peter pulled up to a building and cut the car off. He got out and ran to open your door.

"Close your eyes". He put his hand over your eyes and guided you along. Making sure you didnt bump into anything.

"Almost there".

"Peter". You giggled as he moved his hand.

"What's all this"? You gushed as you saw lights streamed around. A blanket on the top of the roof. A picnic was laid out and music was playing.

"I wanted our first date to be special. I hope you dont mind us just having a picnic"?

"I love it. You're amazing". You said with a twinkle in your eye as Peter lit up with joy.

You both sat down, talked, ate and danced. Laughed and really laughed. He was something else. Something special.

"I'm really enjoying myself and I don't want it to end". You tell him as your laying back on his arm as you two are looking at the stars in the sky.

"It doesnt have to. We can just stay here forever".

"I wish that was true". You said getting up and sliding your shoes back on.

"I need to get home, I have a early morning tomorrow". You sadly said.

"Okay". Peter got up and wrapped his arm around you taking you to the car.

Peter dropped you off at your apartment, kissed you goodnight and went on his way. He had the best night of his life and he could see doing it every night with you. It was just the first date and Peter was falling in love with you.

Months past, Peter and you had officially become a couple. You both enjoyed it so much that you basically moved in with him and sold your apartment. He treated you like a queen and loved every inch of you. You were madly in love with him. He was the sweetest, most kindest man you have ever met, besides Herrmann of course but he approved of Peter and you together. They all did.

One day you were coming home from work and stopped by the coffee shop to see what Peter wanted for dinner. He did most of the cooking but you wanted to surprise him.

"Hey beautiful". He grinned as you walked in.

"Hey baby". You kissed his lips and he walked you over to one of the tables.

"Everything okay"? You asked.

"Yeah, everything's great. You okay"?

"Yeah, just stopped by to see what you wanted for dinner"?

"Besides you"? He laughed, making you giggle.

"Yes, besides me. Anything special"?

"There is one thing". Peter got up from his seat and went behind the counter.

"Peter, what would you like? You name it and I'll do it". You say getting up when Peter didn't come back.

"Oh my god". Your hand went over your mouth.

"Will you marry me"? Peter was down on one knee, a black box in hand a silver diamond ring was in the other.

"Yes". You squealed as you attacked Peter with a hug.

"I can't believe this is happening". You say calming down. Peter took your trembling hand and slid the ring on your ring finger.

"I promise to love you and to be loyal to you. I promise to put you and our family before anything. I promise to be truthful and honest. I promise to take care of you until the our last breath. I love you Y/N Y/L/N".

By now you had tears running down your face. "I love you so much Peter. I'm so thankful you came into my life. I will always cherish you. You're my everything. I can't wait to be your wife". He grabbed your chin and kissed you deeply. You never thought of yourself as the settling down type until you met Peter. He changed you for the best.

[debbierhea]

proximity - chapter 5

wc: 1624 / tw: alcohol mention / msr, ust, season 4, cancer arc

summary: they don’t do this.

(chapter 1 / chapter 2 / chapter 3 / chapter 4)

i love constructive criticism or just comments in general! feel free to message me here or find me (and my other writing) on ao3 here and leave me a comment. xx

Their rooms were on the third floor - 312 and 314 - side by side and linked together by a door. Scully often thought of their adjoining hotel rooms as an apt metaphor for her and Mulder: physically separate, functioning individuals, cordoned off from one another. That is, unless both doors were unlocked, then opened at the same time. Throughout their partnership, she thought she had heard the lock on his door, on his heart, rattle. She even thought it may have wholly unlatched once, but it was never quite in sync with the turning of hers and she was always too afraid to open the door. Now, it was too late to get the timing right and her room was full of termites and dry rot - nasal cavity full of malignant tumor and veins full of free wheeling cancer cells - and she had no idea why she was letting herself lean into him like this on the elevator.

The elevator car shook as the door screeched shut. The silence that followed was more deafening. He was radiating heat at her side but she felt frozen. Scully didn’t know what to do, what to say. She wants to turn and shove her tongue down his throat again, run her hand under his rumpled collared shirt, or maybe just run.

Instead, she decides to remain pressed to his side and say, “We should have taken the stairs. I’m scared to think of how long it’s been since this elevator has been inspected.”

She can feel him turn his head and look down to her.

“My feet are killing me, but three flights of stairs may be preferable to this death trap.”

He’s smirking. She’s rambling.

There’s a pause when his fingers grip her waist.

“If we had taken the stairs, then I couldn’t do this.”

He’s leaning down now, and she wants to roll her eyes, because what a line, but there’s not enough time because their lips meet and her eyes are closing instead, just as he closes the remaining space between their bodies, just as she closes her mouth around his tongue.

He tastes like dark wine and orange slices and when she runs her tongue over his bottom lip she can taste his sweat. Mulder breathes deeply, not quite panting, as he smooths both hands from her waist down to cup her ass. They kiss and kiss and kiss, Scully’s hands roaming his back, his chest, and finally land at the waist of his slacks. He inhales sharply when her nails slide against bare skin, untucking his shirt. They’re making out like teenagers in the backseat of an old Cadillac DeVille at the drive-in, instead of two thirty-somethings standing in a hotel elevator with shag carpet that almost surely hasn’t passed a safety inspection since the Reagan administration, and Mulder feels like the luckiest person in the entire world.

She bites at his lip and he grabs two handfuls of her ass, hard. Scully moans at the neediness in his grasp, at the pinch of pain it causes. She hopes he leaves bruises. She wants him to leave something behind, some evidence, some quantifiable proof she can discover tomorrow, perhaps in the mirror while stripping for her morning shower, like dusting for hidden fingerprints at a crime scene. She is a scientist after all.

Her moan turns to a breathy laugh as he grabs for her again, apparently choosing his need of her touch over balance, and they both tip backwards and hit the wall. Mulder’s head cracks against the fake wood paneling and their lips separate. His eyes are still closed, face scrunched up, as he lifts one hand from her body to rub the back of his head.

She huffs another laugh when he finally looks down to her and widens his eyes. “Ow.”

His glance catches on the curve of her lips as she laughs, high and goofy, so antithetical to the Scully she projects to the world. Her prim suits and glares as sharp as her stilettos send a clear message to most - “Though she be but little, she is fierce!” He’d said that to her once. She had been in top form that day, white blouse pressed and tucked snugly into a black pencil skirt that fit like a glove. The police sergeant in Round Top, Texas had been referring to her as Little Lady and variations thereof since they had graced his front door five days earlier. Her speech was level and succinct, but there was fatal venom behind it as she laid into Mr. Misogyny after a buccal swab from the crime scene had been contaminated. She sent him home with a bruised ego and his tail between his legs. The daggers she’d thrown Mulder’s way at his whispered comment made him want to turn on his heel and follow in the sergeant’s footsteps. Maybe the message she sent the world was more like, “Fuck you.” The next day, the sergeant extended a coffee, a powdered donut, and his hand with a mumbled, “Apologies, Dr. Scully.”

That Scully, the no-nonsense FBI Special Agent née Medical Doctor with the clipped but prompt email responses and sleekly tamed bob, was for everyone else. His Scully, Mulder’s Scully, was a different creature entirely. She bantered and argued and threw soft smiles his way. She made him get a side salad or steamed vegetables at least once a day on the road and leaned into him when discussing a theory. Her eyes shone with excitement when she spoke about a new article she’d read in one of her medical journals and she scowled when he flicked sunflower seeds onto the floor of their rental car. She had wavy hair and flannel pajamas and talked in her sleep. She was his toughest critic and his fiercest ally and she let him rest his hand on the small of her back as they roamed the country in search of the truth.

This is the Scully blinking up at him now, cheeks flushed, lipstick smeared, dark bags under her eyes. She is beautiful. Heart-achingly beautiful. And there’s that goofy as hell giggle again, the giggle that makes him crack a smile just thinking about it. They are opposites in every way except those that matter and he can’t take his eyes off her smile. This time it’s Scully that leans in, his Scully.

She sighs quietly at the meeting of their lips, gentle this time, soft. It’s tender and it’s delicate and it’s heavy with emotion and the weight of four years’ worth of struggle, pain, and heartache. Scully thinks for one indulgent moment that maybe it isn’t too late, maybe they’re just in time. But then, there’s a soft “Ding!” and a loud, metallic screech and suddenly they are not alone.

Bodies in sync, they both turn their heads toward the sound. A man, woman, and two young children stand at the now open entrance to the elevator. Mulder is suddenly very aware of his hands on her ass. Her face is scarlet.

Scully decides she cannot take the embarrassment and buries her face in Mulder’s chest. So much for “Fuck you,” he thinks. The two children are having an animated conversation about the latest episode of Scooby-Doo as they enter, none the wiser. The parents, though, seem to be sizing them up. Mulder sees the woman raise her eyebrows, widen her eyes, and realizes he’s still gripping Scully in a not-so-family-friendly place. He slides his hands up to her waist and then continues to move the other to the middle of her back, making small comforting circles. She shakes her head into him, her arms wrapped around his torso, grabbing the back of his shirt underneath his suit jacket.

The couple stay near the front of the elevator. The man punches a button and then looks over his shoulder to Mulder.

“What floor?” The man is smirking and Mulder’s eyes go wide as he glances up to the arrow still pointed at the letter G for Ground Floor.

He clears his throat. “Three.”

The man punches that button too and soon the elevator doors are squeaking shut. The children continue their conversation, their parents silent and stiff as boards beside them.

Scully whispers so quietly he feels the vibration in his chest more than hears it, “We forgot to push the button?”

He huffs out a laugh into her cinnamon hair and nods. He can feel her smile.

There’s another off-key “Ding!” as the elevator jerks to a halt. Third floor. Mulder grimaces as he realizes they have to walk past the family to gain their freedom. Hand reaching for Scully’s he strides forward, passing between the two children and their parents. Scully’s head is down and her steps quick and wobbly as he pulls her behind him.

As they finally leave the most pleasurable and embarrassing elevator ride of Mulder’s life, the man gives a sharp clear of his throat, as if trying to grab their attention. Scully plows forward, not looking back, but Mulder turns his head and receives a sly wink and a-okay hand gesture from him. His wife swats at his hand as the doors close.

Their hands are still tangled together as they turn to face each other. Scully has a death grip on his left hand and throws him a look of sheer horror, the likes of which he’s only seen in the presence of Flukemen and Jersey Devils. The expression on her face, one reserved for the aberrant and anomalous, is so desperately out of place in the hall of this grungy, though unremarkable hotel, he can’t stop the laugh from escaping his lips.

He squeezes her hand and then she’s laughing too.

[inkbun]

If you arenct busy, could you maybe do a (romantic)Roadhog x Fem!Reader angst? Maybe Roadie finds poor reader in a severe depression/anxiety episode(you decide how far it goes, I don't want to make you uncomfortable), and he tries to calm her down? Hurt/Comfort, Romance

Back at it again @ Krispy Kreme. Took a career change and a major move, but I’m back babeyyy. Anyways, this was more serious than I intended, but I like how it turned out. Enjoy! 🐷

(FYI- I’m in a completely different timezone than before so uploads may be random for a while until I figure out what works.)

Words: 1886

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

Your back slammed the rusted wall, pocked surface snagging your well-worn henley. Clawing your chest, you tried to regulate your breaths: In for seven, out for eight... only to hyperventilate on the second exhale. Though the panic was an old foe, its trigger this time was wholly unfamiliar.

Living in Junkertown brought its fair share of terrors: thieves and the cowards who stab them in the — two-faced swindlers, and the head of it all, the ruthless Junker Queen. You were by no means a native, having spent most of your adult life in cities like Brisbane. Which while wild in their own right, were far from the barren wasteland that daily threatened your mortality.

Even so, you’d rather a cage match in the Junkertown arena than deal with the situation at hand.

“It’ll be f-fine,” you stammered, pulling the flimsy stick from your pocket. It was decidedly unremarkable—tapered white plastic with a tiny LCD screen in the middle. Funny how something so simple could remain unchanged for over a century since its invention.

Wish it was as simple to get one. Depsite its proclivity for debauchery, Junkertown dealers didn’t often traffic in women’s wellness. Diesel, angel dust, mech parts? Name your price. But a pregnancy test? Everyone loses their minds.

“Rightly so,” you muttered, hands tremoring as you clutched the device.

Your own carelessness had landed you here. Junkertown had a finite supply of...protection dealers and you’d exhausted their existing supply—not that it stopped you.

To be fair, Mako had egged you on—dragging you to the edge of pleasure, dangling you over while his solid arms clutched you close. Granted, you tried to warn him of the line he was toeing, the very real danger the two of you were toying with. The words came in sputtery, pleasure-choked breaths: “Mako p-please, not inside...it can’t...you can’t—”

Mako answered, voice so deep it murmured in your chest. “Don’t care, you’re mine. I want them to know...” At the time the words thrilled you, a sharp departure from his usual level head.

Your tryst with the infamous Roadhog began rather simply. You were an apprentice for Bruce, Junkertown’s master engineer; Mako occasionally brought his motorcycle in after hours for hush-hush repairs. For months you’d tried to figure him out, drawn to the man who always kept his mask on and relegated all responses to appropriately-timed grunts.

Though frightening at first, you grew to enjoy—no, crave—his presence, especially delighted when he brought shop presents from his exploits. They usually consisted of food, like Bruce’s favorite cinnamon vines and your own, powdered sugar donuts. Occasionially he brought trinkets, though you didn’t dare ask where from. The most expensive of these, a solid gold set of brass knuckles, served as a welcome supplement to your growing treasure stash.

Bruce ribbed you about the blossoming...something between you two, smile poorly hidden in his scraggly white beard. “I haven’t seen ‘Hog get excited over anyone in a long while. Hardly looks my way if you’re in the room.”

You waved him off, calling him a silly old man caught up in daydreams. But he was right, even if you only admitted it in your quiet moments. So, when Mako came by late one evening for repairs on a blown gasket and Bruce wasn’t around, you stepped in to help.

Tension-laden, you worked on the bike, doing your best to keep your mind from straying to his large hands, or your eyes from the plethora of tattoos and scars across his skin. Somehow you could feel his gaze, even beneath the mask, felt the curious intensity even though he said little.

“Thanks,” he said, once you were done, drawing just close enough for you to examine him up close.

Strange, you thought, taking in the hulking man before you. Mako’s wiry demolitionist sidekick had tried flirting with you, but on nights when your hand snaked beneath the band of your cargos, you dreamt of thick arms and a shock of white hair accompanying deep, pleasured growls. And that’s when you knew you were in trouble.

You flashed a sultry smile, not bothering to adjust the fallen strap of your denim overalls. “No bother at all. I know I’m not Bruce, but my touch ain’t half bad.”

“That so?” he chuckled, timbre-rich sound warming your bones. You nodded vigorously, dislodging the other strap in the process. Reason told you to pull it back up, act like nothing happened — for god’s sakes don’t fuck the outlaw.

You promptly did the opposite, drawing nearer until you hit his stomach, fingers boldly exploring the skin there. Mako went very still, strangled groan escaping him as you kept on. At last he stopped you, taking your arm gently in his large hand.

“I’m a bad man, ____.”

You snorted, spirit too consumed to let a little self-deprecation stop you. Gently you reached up, bracing on his stomach for balance as you tugged the bottom of his mask up. Mako flinched, grip on your hand tightening before at last giving a single nod: a silent “Continue.”

With some difficulty you unfastened it, fascinated with every inch of the face it revealed. He was younger than the white ponytail suggested, honey brown eyes alight with quiet mischief; his snub nose was adorned by a septum ring, with sharp cheekbones punctuated by stubble and facial scars. He was oddly handsome, despite the apprehension and want warring on his face.

Breathless, you stilled your thundering heart and braced both palms against him, fingers spanning in search of more. “Show me.”

That was nearly a year ago, the months since filled with snuck rendezvous in Bruce’s shop, your apartment, and a host of “we’ll be killed if we’re caught” locations. Neither of you publicly claimed the other, both of you citing op sec as the reason. Mako was wanted in far too many towns, and you didn’t need any of Junkertown’s nastier characters—including the Queen herself—knocking on Bruce’s door with questions.

Still, the past few months had seen a palpable...something growing between you. Mako had started staying the night instead of returning to his hideout with Jamison, clutching you in slumber like one of his beloved pachimaris. You began keeping apricot jam, his favorite, in the fridge and doubled your grocery order just in case he stopped by.

You were serious. Maybe not in love—Was that even possible in the Wasteland?—but definitely serious.

“And I’m about to fuck it all up,” you whispered, tears welling your eyes as you pondered taking off the cap. It’d been at least an hour since it chirped, announcing the results were in. Three times you gathered up the courage to look—three times you failed, panic robbing you of breath and vision blurring whenever you even considered the possibility of a positive result.

Your brain whirred, spitting questions with no good answers: Would he still want me? Would he blame me? Would he leave?

Would he, would he...on and on it went until you were queasy.

The swirling dread robbed you of awareness, so much so that you failed to hear your the click of your a door as someone unlocked it, or the thumpy footsteps on the stairs accompanied by inquisitive “hmms” as Mako searched the workshop for you.

You’d gone totally numb, shivering against the wall; just then, a familiar hand tapped your shoulder.

“Roadie!” you jumped, test stick clattering to the floor. You tried to rein your voice in, aware it likely teetered on hysterics. “What are you doing here?”

He had forgone the mask as you liked, tattered t-shirt straining against his tummy and large arms. His was hair out of its usual ponytail, gathered around his neck in a shaggy white crop. Every bit of it screamed relaxed, as did the takeaway boxes tucked under his arm. Mako had come for a date, and you were about to ruin it all.

“I was around,” he offered, watching you for a moment. Then, nodding at the ground. “What’s that for?”

Realizing the test was out in the open, you scrambled to snatch it up. “N-nothing! Silly business really, don’t worry about it, I just—”

“Don’t lie to me, ____,” he said, snatching up the test with deceptive speed.

The words were gentle, softer than anything you’d ever heard from him. Of course I can’t hide from him. He might be an internationally-wanted criminal, but Mako was one of the most perceptive people you’d ever met. Not that it’d take a savant to derive the source of your current meltdown.

He held the damning evidence in front of you. “This yours?”

You nodded, biting your lip to quell your tears. Mako nodded, face drained of emotion. He watched you a moment, eyes resting on your middle.

“Would it be mine?”

You nodded again, momentary incredulity granting you courage to speak. “Whose else’s?”

That got a slight chuckle, quickly replaced by the first instance of worry you’d ever seen on his face.

“You look yet?”

You shook your head no.

“Scared?” he asked, face full of comprehension.

You nodded, trembling progressed to sobbing tremors. Without another word Mako pulled you toward him, willing you still with his solid warmth. By degrees you stopped, reduced to sniffles and quiet babbling.

“I’m so sorry, I ruined everything. You came to have a good time and you face so much out there and I-I—“

Mako kissed your head, lips lingering against your clammy skin. “Stop. We’ll look at it together.”

It wasn’t a question and you had no will left to fight. Still, the unspeakable question prowled your thoughts, compelling you to ask.

“And if it’s...” you said, trailing off as you stared at him with welling eyes.

“Then it is,” Mako said, training his quiet, determined gaze on your frightened one. “But I’m yours, ____. No matter what.”

You cried out in relief, so flooded with happiness you could only hug him tighter. Mako laughed, sound soothing like summer rain on desert sand. Standing on your tippy toes, you kissed him, leaching every ounce of gratitude and affection you could into your lips. He answered ferverently, flicking his tongue across yours before pulling away.

“Ready?” he asked, holding the test up. Taking a deep breath, you nodded. With him by your side, you could do anything. Using his thumb, Mako slid the shutter covering the screen, both of you holding your breath as you uncovered the result: Negative.

The sound you made barely qualified as human, but Mako just laughed, ruffling your hair with his free hand. Crisis averted, turned your attention to the fragrant takeaway boxes, sure you detected the tang of greasy noodles.

“Hungry?” Mako asked, scarred cheek quirking as he smiled.

You stood, temporarily stunned by the pure affection on his face. He wouldn’t say it yet, and neither would you until you got good and ready, but right then you knew that Mako Rutledge, criminal extraordinaire, loved you.

Stomach grumbling, you answered with a smile. “For you? Always.”

[lady-divine-writes]

Klaine one-shot “Sunday Morning Donuts” (Rated NC17)

Summary: When their favorite donut shop runs out and closes up for the day, a GrubHub driver with loose lips leads Santana and Mercedes to Kurt and Blaine's door, where they unknowingly interrupt a Sunday morning tradition. (1472 words)

Read on AO3.

Knock-knock-knock.

…

Knock-knock-knock.

…

BANGBANGBANGBANG!

“Kurt! Blaine! Open this door! We know you’re in there!” Santana yells, slamming on their thick metal door with her fist. Down the hall, a neighbor rolls their door open a slit and grumbles loudly: “Can you please keep it down? There are people trying to sleep!”

“No!” Santana snaps, not looking their way. “This is an emergency!”

Mercedes, more concerned about not causing problems between Kurt, Blaine, and their neighbors, says, “We’ll try to keep it down. Right, Santana?”

But Santana ignores them both and slams on the door harder. The older woman mutters, “Bitch,” under her breath and closes her door with a fairly substantial slam.

“Only in New York,” Mercedes says, figuring that poor old lady is probably thinking the same thing.

“One minute, one minute, hold on!” Kurt bellows, voice sliding up in pitch. “I’m coming!”

“Well don’t take all day about it!” Santana yells with her lips an inch from the seam between the wall and the door. “We’s got some serious business to discuss!”

“Yeah, yeah …” Kurt’s voice flutters, sustaining what sounds like a prolonged yawn. After that, the loft goes quiet. Santana glues her ear to the door. She hears Kurt groan, strained and labored, followed seconds later by angry footsteps marching towards her. The heavy door shakes and rumbles as Kurt pushes it open. Dressed in what might be only a robe, he leans against the frame, looking from Santana to Mercedes with arms crossed.

He doesn’t even try to say hello first.

He knows he won’t get it out in time.

“Where are they!?” Santana demands.

“Good morning, ladies,” Kurt says, rubbing his eyes. “And to what do we owe the pleasure of your company?”

“Don’t play asleep with me! I know you have them! Which means you’ve been up a while! A half hour at least!”

“At least …” Kurt mimics.

“Have what?” Blaine asks, trundling up behind his husband in the same exhausted state.

“Donuts!”

Kurt’s face pinches. “It’s Sunday morning! The majority of the country is probably eating donuts! That doesn’t mean that we have any!”

“Au contraire, mon frere! I happen to have it on good authority that you guys ordered two dozen gourmet donuts from the Donut Pub and had them delivered via GrubHub! The last two dozen before they closed up shop for the day!”

Kurt’s eyebrow arches sharply. “And how would you know that?”

“We were on line to buy some,” Mercedes explains. “We were right about to order when they said they were out. Santana saw a GrubHub driver heading to his car …”

“… and I stopped him. Asked him what was up and he told me. I tried to buy a few donuts off him, but he wouldn’t give ‘em up.”

“Well, good for him for doing his job,” Kurt says smugly.

“Yeah, but, for five bucks, he told us where he was going,” Mercedes sheepishly admits. Kurt and Blaine both gasp.

“What!? That’s … that’s … that’s got to be against some kind of company policy!” Blaine exclaims.

“And after I gave him a ten dollar tip, too!”

“Why would he do that!? The two of you could be serial killers!”

“Which means …” Santana interrupts, trying to bring the conversation back to the subject of her lack of pastry “… you guys are either both off your diets, or you’re having some sort of breakfast party …”

“Kinky breakfast party …” Mercedes snickers, looking the robe-clad men up and down.

“… and you didn’t invite us!”

Blaine shoots Kurt a look – a worried look, Mercedes notices. Kurt shakes his head, his mouth drawn into a tight and unamused line. “As unlikely as both those scenarios are, no. There is no party. Just me, my husband, and the last of the donuts,” Kurt gloats, leaning in to Santana’s face when he does.

“But why two dozen?” Mercedes asks. “That’s a lot of donuts for the two of you.”

“Donut Pub gives you a discount on delivery via GrubHub if you spend a certain amount,” Blaine says. “Otherwise, you’re spending the same, just getting less donuts.”

“So we get what sounds good,” Kurt puts in, “and whatever we don’t eat, I take to Vogue.”

Mercedes looks at Santana and shrugs. “Sounds reasonable.”

Santana huffs. “Don’t care. I still wants me some donuts, and I’m not leaving here till I get some!”

Kurt glares at her, then looks over at his husband and sighs. He could say no. Could slam the door in their faces and go on with his life, but that would mean punishing one of his best friends in the world for something that was probably only Santana’s idea. Besides, Santana wouldn’t leave. She would plant herself on the floor in front of their door and yell obscenities in English and Spanish until they gave her what she wanted. Even if they ate all the donuts (which, thank God, they haven’t) they’d have to order more from somewhere else just to get her to shut up.

He’s not going through that again.

“Glazed?” he asks, staring at her with all the venom of a brown recluse. “Powdered? Filled?”

Santana smiles and Kurt hates it. That tiny twist of victory makes him seethe, makes him want to grab every donut they have and grind them in her face. But in her sick mind she’d still see it as a win since she’d have all the donuts (wearing, more accurately) and he’d have none.

“I saw them pack your order. I know for a fact that you have the crème brulee, the salted caramel, the raspberry cremes, the cinnamon toast crunch, the Belgian dark chocolate, and the lavender and chai tea.”

“Yeah?”

“We want one of each.”

Kurt looks at Blaine again and, after a significant moment, nods. Blaine pulls a face of annoyance, but also acceptance. There’s no winning this one.

Not unless they consider moving.

“One moment,” Blaine says, voice dripping with fake politeness as he turns and walks back into the loft. Kurt flashes Santana a toothy grin-mace while Mercedes mouths, ‘Sorry,’ behind her back.

Blaine comes back moments later with a brown paper bag cinched at the top and hands it over.

“There you go,” he says in a sourly-sweet voice. “One of each.”

“Let’s hope they don’t go straight to your thighs,” Kurt adds.

Santana smirks, snatching the bag out of his hand. “Thick thighs save lives.”

“Good bye, Santana,” Kurt says, pulling the door closed.

“What? You’re not even going to invite us in for coffee?” Santana teases.

“No.”

“Let’s go, Tana.” Mercedes grabs the bag out of her hands and heads towards the stairs. “Let’s leave them be. You got what you wanted.”

Kurt rolls the door shut, throws the bolts, then rests his back against it, listening as Santana chases Mercedes, and her donuts, down the hall. When her voice dissolves down the staircase, Kurt looks at Blaine.

Blaine looks at Kurt.

The two of them sputter.

Then they start laughing.

“God, I hate her!” Kurt chokes out, only half joking.

“It’s a good thing the guy from GrubHub gave us the heads up that he was being harassed!”

“Yeah, but I’m still not thrilled that he told.”

“True,” Blaine agrees. “Maybe we’ll go with Postmates next time. We’ll put in the notes that they’ll get tipped extra for leading any potential stalkers astray.”

“Like that would work! Santana’s part bloodhound, I’m sure of it!” Kurt shakes the last of the laughter out of his chest, then fixes dark, bedroom eyes on his husband. “You still good to go?”

Blaine’s laughter peters in his throat as he meets his husband’s gaze with a sultry one of his own. “Absolutely. Who goes first this time?”

“I think … you.” Kurt grins, down to take charge, siphon back some control after the b.s. that just took place.

“That’s what I was hoping you’d say.” Blaine unties his robe and lets it fall to the ground, leaving him naked and hard, the way they had been before Santana started banging at their door. They walk to the kitchen, and Blaine sits in his favorite chair.

“Crème Brulee?” Kurt asks, fingers dancing over the remaining donuts, some half eaten, partially violated, waiting, as Blaine is, for their chance to be devoured completely. “Belgian Dark Chocolate?”

“The Crème Brulee, I think.” Blaine settles in, legs spread, his impatient erection bobbing at the thought of the sweet way his husband is about to go down on him, of how long it takes to eat these particularly dense confections.

Kurt slips the hole of the donut over Blaine’s flushed head, careful not to crack the icing, then slides the ring slowly down his husband’s shaft, watching it travel with watering mouth and hungry eyes. “Excellent choice.”

[beanfic]

Pumpkin Palooza

Kae & Sav’s Spooky Special | Masterlist

Warnings: None

Word Count: 5610

Authors’ Note: Hey frens! Here is the first chapter of our three-part miniseries!! Our beloved spooky special :) Hope you enjoy!!! (picture credit)

Tyler’s POV

The sounds of whatever song was playing on the radio carried softly into the bathroom as I stood brushing my teeth. I bopped my head slowly from side to side, barely matching the rhythm of the drums. Sunlight filtered in through the window on the far side of the room, illuminating half of my body. A few shadows danced across my face as I stared at myself in the mirror, scrutinizing my appearance.

The song came to an end, which I took as my cue to spit out my toothpaste and rinse my mouth. In my bedroom, I could just make out the sound of my phone vibrating on the bedside table. I dropped my toothbrush into its holder and leaned closer to the mirror, using one hand to run over my scruff. It was getting long, but not long enough for me to consider taking the time to shave it down. After taking a couple moments to run my hands through my damp hair and fix it to my liking, I headed into my bedroom to see what I had missed.

My phone was lit up with a couple messages from the group chat that I had with Josh and Y/N. I read over them as I walked out to the kitchen to make myself some cereal.

Y/N: good morning, my dudes

Josh: good morning :) you’re up early today

Y/N: casper woke me up early this morning because he wanted to go on a walk. trust me, i wish i was still sleeping :p but at least i have you two to talk to all morning :)

I sighed. Three messages in and the two of them were already starting the flirting for the day. It was something that I had quickly grown used to. I had never really been bothered by their near constant back and forth, although I was bothered by neither of them being bold enough to just admit their feelings for the other. Even if I tried to step in and hint at their mutual feelings, they both brushed it off as me playing around.

That’s why I had come up with my master plan.

Tyler: good morning

After sending my message, I set my phone down on the counter while I made myself a quick bowl of cereal. My hands had been off my phone for a grand total of five seconds before it buzzed again. I looked over at it while I poured my cereal.

Y/N: ty! how’s it going? now that you’re both up, are plans still on for today? it’s day one of our spooky extravaganza!

Josh: i’m down if you two are

I put the cereal away before sending my response.

Tyler: i’m in. i’ll pick you up around noon? 

Y/N: are you picking up josh first? :(

Tyler: it makes the most sense, so yes

Y/N: just once i want to be the one who gets picked up first

Josh: maybe you would get picked up first if you didn’t live on the opposite side of town

Y/N: it’s not my fault!

I shook my head as I grabbed a spoon. I had watched this same exact argument unfold hundreds of times before, and it always ended the same way.

Josh: hmm i think it is. there are plenty of houses for sale

Y/N: you think i can afford them? not all of us have money from all our successful albums and tours, joshua

Josh: you were the one who said you wanted to get picked up first!

Tyler: alright, you two, i’ll see you at noon

I set my phone down on the coffee table without waiting for a response and sank into the couch. The remote was already sitting on the cushions, making it easy for me to grab and switch on the TV. My phone vibrating against the coffee table soon become nothing more than background noise.

*     *     *

Josh dug his hands deep into the pockets of his sweatshirt as he walked down the path towards my car. He smiled as he opened the door and slid into the passenger seat, immediately moving his hands in front of my air vents.

“My heater isn’t working properly,” he explained, skipping over a hello. “I’ve been in sweatshirts and sweatpants since last night.”

“Do you have someone coming to fix it?” I asked as I pulled out of the driveway.

“Yeah, there’s some people stopping by to take a look today. I’m hoping they can get it fixed by tonight.”

“If not, you can always come crash at my place. I wouldn’t want you freezing to death.”

“Thanks.”

After a few more minutes of warming up his hands, Josh leaned back in his seat and dropped his hands to his lap. He yawned loudly as he did so.

“Yikes, sorry.”

“Tired?” I laughed.

“Yeah. I was up late talking to Y/N last night.”

“How late?”

“Like, I’m not sure, three in the morning, maybe?”

“Oh geez. Are they ok?”

“Yeah, yeah. They’re fine.”

“Why so late, then?”

“I just really like talking to them. I don’t know what it is.”

“Yeah, you do.”

“Stop.”

I turned and shot Josh a look. His cheeks were dusted pink, but he had been in the car long enough that I knew it wasn’t from the cold outside. 

“Come on, man. You’ve already told me how you feel about Y/N, there’s no need to hide it now.”

“It’s not that.” He shook his head. “I’m just… I don’t think it’s going to happen. I can’t keep letting myself get my hopes up like this.”

“Josh, you and I both know there’s something there.”

“Is there?”

“Yes.”

And I was going to make sure that both of them finally realized that.

*     *     *

Your POV

“It’s colder than I thought it was going to be,” you said as you stepped out of the car. The makeshift parking lot was jam packed with cars and families making their way towards the farm. You pulled your sleeves down a little further over your hands.

“This is what my house felt like last night,” Josh said, pulling his beanie a little lower on his head. “It was awful.”

“I told you that you could have come over! But somebody didn’t want to make the drive.”

You just barely noticed the way Tyler turned to Josh with raised eyebrows out of the corner of your eye. A brief desire to ask what that look was all about crossed your mind, but you decided against feeding into it. It was probably better that you didn’t ask.

“It was like one in the morning and you were already in bed! I didn’t want to make you get up.”

“Hey, I am not going to listen to the two of you bickering all day. Let’s go,” Tyler said, tilting his head towards the entrance of the farm.

“Can we get something to drink?” you asked, falling into step with the boys. “It might be nice to have a warm drink to carry around so our fingers don’t freeze.”

“Yes!” Tyler grinned at you. “Let’s get donuts too.”

“Good thinking.”

You held a hand out to Tyler who happily engaged in the high five. Josh smiled at the two of you and shook his head.

“Hey, did I already say you look nice today, Y/N?” Josh added.

You looked down at the jeans and flannel combo you had opted for today. It hadn’t looked particularly special when you were studying yourself in the mirror, but you couldn’t deny the butterflies in your stomach at Josh’s compliment.

“Thanks, Josh,” you smiled. “You look nice too.”

A gust of wind hit right as you finished speaking, prickling at your cheeks. Josh’s face immediately flushed a dusty shade of pink, and you were unable to tell if the color was from your compliment or the cool air. Biting back a sigh, you turned away from Josh and continued to follow Tyler through the crowd towards the building that housed donuts and hot cider.

“Ok, what are we thinking?” Tyler asked. You didn’t immediately register his question at first, you were too busy enjoying the relief from the crisp autumn air outside.

“Powdered sugar,” Josh answered immediately.

You turned to him with furrowed eyebrows, “You would rather have powdered sugar than pumpkin donuts?”

“Just one or two,” he shrugged. “I like powdered donuts.”

“What are you thinking, Ty?”

“I definitely want a pumpkin donut. Or maybe a cinnamon one? I can’t decide.”

“Oh wait, they have a variety bag,” Josh chimed in, stepping closer to you. He rested one hand on your lower back as he used the other to point at the menu. “See it? Three powdered donuts, three pumpkin donuts, and three cinnamon donuts.”

“Would you be willing to trade your pumpkin donut for my powdered sugar one?” you asked.

Josh looked at you, furrowing his eyebrows slightly. “I think I could be convinced.”

“Then I think that sounds good. Ty, you in?”

He nodded, “I’m in.”

You made casual conversation with the boys as you stood in line. Josh continued to stand close to you, not that you were complaining. His close proximity meant it was easier for you to take in his body heat, as well as the faint laundry detergent scent coming from his sweatshirt. The only part you weren’t enjoying so much was Tyler shooting you knowing looks every so often.

With donuts and warm drinks in hand, you found a nice stack of hay bales outside to sit on. They were tall enough that they blocked most of the wind, making the temperature much more bearable. You got comfy on one of them and immediately reached into the bag for your first donut.

“Cheers,” Tyler said, holding out his own donut.

You giggled as you tapped your own treat against his and Josh’s. Josh immediately took a large bite of his donut, covering most of his mouth in powdered sugar. You watched in amusement as he attempted to lick most of it off, but there were some spots he couldn’t quite reach.

“Need help, Josh?” you asked.

“What?”

“With the…” you trailed off, instead gesturing vaguely towards your own mouth.

“There’s more?”

“Just a little,” you laughed.

He sighed and tilted his chin out towards you, “Alright.”

You gently reached out and brushed the excess powdered sugar away with your thumb. Josh’s skin was smooth beneath your fingertips and it was hard to resist the urge to just run your fingers along his bottom lip. He had such nice lips.

“Did you get it all?” he asked.

“Yeah,” you said, snapping yourself out of your daydream. “Try to be a little more careful next time.”

“No promises.”

“What’s the plan after this?” Tyler asked, joining the conversation. “Pumpkins?”

“I think that makes sense. I’d rather not stay here too long since it’s freezing out,” you answered.

“Agreed,” Josh nodded.

“Are we still going to your apartment to carve pumpkins?” Tyler asked.

“Yeah. We can order some pizza and watch horror movies too.”

“Awesome.”

“Hey, do you think I could do a backflip off this hay bale?” Josh asked, completely redirecting the conversation.

You took a second to assess your surroundings, then nodded. “Totally.”

Josh wasted no time in stuffing the rest of his donut into his mouth and climbing up a couple hay bales. After taking a moment to make sure nobody was in his way, he flipped off the hay bale and landed gracefully on the dirt. You bit back a smile at his proud smirk as he adjusted his beanie.

“You think I could do a flip?” you asked.

“Y/N,” Tyler warned.

“Sure, but only if I’m there to spot you,” Josh said.

“Of course. There’s no way I’m flipping on my own.”

“Please be careful,” Tyler said.

“I will be.”

Josh held a hand out to you and helped you up onto the taller hay bale. Flipping seemed a lot scarier now that you were up here.

“Maybe this isn’t a good idea,” you said.

“It’s ok, I’ve got you,” Josh smiled.

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

You listened carefully as Josh told you exactly what to do, although you were struggling to listen while he had one of his hands pressed firmly into your back as he spoke. Once you felt like you knew what you were doing, you gave Josh the ok.

“On my count, ok?”

“Ok.”

“Three, two, one, jump!”

You leaned into Josh’s hand and kicked your legs up over your head. His other arm caught your legs and helped them get all the way over so that you landed firmly on the ground beneath you.

“Woah, wait, I did it,” you grinned, stumbling slightly into Josh after your landing.

“Yeah, you did.” One of his arms was still wrapped around you, holding you close to his side. You were pressed up against him, still reeling from the adrenaline rush of doing a backflip… well, kind of.

“Impressive,” Tyler garbled around the donut in his mouth.

“Hey! Was that my cinnamon donut?” you asked.

Tyler’s eyes went wide as he realized what he had done. You shook your head and unwrapped yourself from Josh to instead go sit next to Tyler again.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking,” he sighed, swallowing down the last bit.

“It’s ok, Ty, but you do owe me now.”

“I think that’s fair.”

You sat around a while longer until you and Josh finished the last of your donuts. Once they were gone and Tyler took the opportunity to show off his residual basketball skills by tossing the crumpled bag into a trash can, you headed off to the hay ride that would take you to the pumpkin patch.

“How do we do this?” Tyler asked, watching as the tractor slowly grew closer. “Do we hang on to the sides or something?”

“No,” you laughed. “You get inside and sit down on the hay.”

“More hay?” Josh sighed. “My allergies are going to start acting up.”

“You’ll be fine,” you said, giving him a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “It’ll be five minutes at most.”

“If you insist.”

“The most important rule is to not fall off, alright? Because that’s bad news for everyone involved.”

“Don’t fall off,” Tyler nodded. “I think I can manage that.”

The tractor pulled up in front of you and you quickly helped the boys up and onto a hay bale. Other families filled in the space around you. A couple teenagers were giving Tyler and Josh prolonged glances, but you hardly even noticed. You had known the boys long enough to tune things like that out now, although there were still many times where you ended up taking pictures for a fan or two.

“It smells like gas,” Tyler commented, wrinkling his nose up.

“You sure it’s not your hands?” you grinned, bumping him with your elbow.

“Oh, come on,” he laughed. “That was too easy.”

“I’m sorry! I couldn’t resist.”

Tyler shook his head. Next to you, Josh was furiously rubbing his hands - which were now a lot redder than the last time you had seen them - together. 

“Put your hands in your pocket!” you said, reaching out to push them closer to his body. “They’re going to freeze.”

“I think it’s a little late for that,” he laughed, but still put them in his pocket nonetheless.

After a few more minutes, the tractor came to a stop at the edge of a field of pumpkins. There were parents all over the place, chasing their toddlers as they happily smacked pumpkins and tried to climb all over them. You were already on the lookout for a perfect pumpkin to fulfill your vision.

“Where should we start?” Tyler asked.

“I don’t know, I’m overwhelmed,” Josh answered.

“Do you guys have an idea of what kind of pumpkin you want?”

“I want a big one,” Josh said. “Like a really big one.”

“I’m just going to see what calls to me,” Tyler said. His hands were also dug deep into his pockets as he looked around. “I don’t really have anything particular in mind.”

“Ok, then let's start wandering around.”

You led the boys through the field, occasionally pausing to survey a pumpkin here or there. Josh took any opportunity he could get to show off his strength by picking up excessively large pumpkins for you to look at. None of them had caught your eye yet, however.

“Wait!” Tyler called out. You stopped walking and turned around, only to realize that he was nearly ten feet behind you.

“Did you find one?” Josh asked.

“I think so.”

You and Josh wandered back to where Tyler was bent over a pumpkin. It was a little oddly shaped with weird bumps here and there, but he seemed completely pleased with it. After taking a moment to brush some dirt off, he scooped the pumpkin into his arms.

“What do you think?”

“I think it’s the perfect pumpkin for you, Ty,” you smiled.

“Agreed.”

Tyler lugged his pumpkin around while you and Josh continued to look at the pumpkins. You eventually found one that you liked: it was nice and round, had a smooth surface, and didn’t seem to be rotting anywhere that you could see. Plus, it wasn’t too heavy which meant you would have no problem getting it back to the car.

“Alright, Josh, it’s all up to you now.”

“Oh geez,” he smiled. “That’s a lot of pressure.”

“It looks like there’s a lot of big pumpkins over there,” Tyler added. “Should we start there?”

“Good idea.”

You and Tyler followed after Josh with your pumpkins in your arms. Tyler’s pace started to slow, and for a moment you thought he was going to stop completely. It wasn’t until Josh was out of earshot and he beckoned you closer that you realized that this was deliberate.

“What?” you asked, eyebrows furrowed.

“What’s going on between you and Josh today?”

Your shoulders dropped in annoyance, “We’re not really doing this, are we?”

“You two are flirting nonstop! Did something happen that you didn’t tell me about?”

“No, nothing happened. Josh is just being friendly.”

“So I suppose that you wiping powdered donut off his lips was just friendly too?”

“Yes!” you whisper-yelled. “I would have done the same thing if you had food all over your face.”

“I can guarantee you that there would not be that much love in your eyes if you were wiping food off of my face.”

“There was no love in my eyes, what in the world are you talking about?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

“There’s nothing going on. Josh and I are friends and that’s it, alright?”

“Yeah, alright,” he said sarcastically.

“Hey! What are you guys doing all the way over there?” Josh called.

“Sorry, we just needed a rest!” Tyler answered, playing it off like nothing was going on. “It’s hard carrying around pumpkins while you keep aimlessly wandering around.”

“I found a good pumpkin.”

Before you made your way over to Josh, Tyler made sure to get in one last comment.

“I think there’s more there than you’re choosing to see.”

*     *     *

Josh’s POV

I smiled as Tyler sang along to the Halloween music that Y/N had put on as background noise for our pumpkin carving escapades. They were sitting across from me, carefully cutting out the top of their pumpkin so that they could start scooping out all the insides to start carving. That’s what I was currently doing with one hand as I munched on a piece of pizza with the other. Across from me, Tyler, aside from singing, was carefully sketching out his design on the face of his pumpkin.

“Hey! Watch the wood floors,” Y/N warned as some of my pumpkin guts went flying and landed dangerously close to the edge of the trashbags we were sitting on. “And Casper. I don’t want him covered in pumpkin by the end of the night.”

“Sorry,” I mumbled around pizza, glancing at where Casper was curled up next to Y/N. “I’ll be more careful.”

“What design are you doing, Ty?”

“I’m trying to do a skeleton,” he said, holding his pumpkin out for a moment to get a better look at it. “But I’m struggling to get the design right.”

“That’s why you’re a musician and not an artist,” I joked.

“Hey! Who said music isn’t art?”

I held up my hands in defeat and the both of us erupted into laughter, resulting in me nearly dropping my pizza onto the ground. Y/N shot me a look, but they were smiling.

“What about you, Josh?”

“I’m doing an alien, which I’m sure is a shock,” I laughed.

“Oh yeah, I never could have seen that one coming.”

“We have to stay on brand,” Tyler chimed in.

“What design are you doing, Y/N?”

“I was thinking a ghost. You know, spice things up instead of just doing a normal face.”

“I like it,” I nodded.

I admired Y/N as they worked on their pumpkin. They were chewing gently on their bottom lip as they sketched out their ghost design on the front of the pumpkin. My own pumpkin was completely forgotten until Tyler kicked my leg, drawing me back into reality. He held up a pumpkin seed and pretended to throw it at Y/N. My mouth immediately curled into a grin as I grabbed a seed from inside my pumpkin. After taking a moment to line up my shot, I tossed it at Y/N and immediately went back to pretending to clean out my pumpkin.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Y/N looking between Tyler and I. It was taking all my energy to not let a smile completely overtake my face. Once they finally gave in and went back to working on their design, Tyler and I shared a look and nearly burst into laughter. Since they were distracted again, I grabbed another pumpkin seed and threw it at them. Unfortunately for me, they were ready this time and looked up before I had a chance to go back to looking innocent.

“Josh,” Y/N said, drawing out the vowel. “You’re not throwing pumpkin seeds at me, are you?”

“Of course not,” I said, but the smile that I was trying to hide was completely evident on my face.

“Liar!” they laughed, grabbing their own handful of pumpkin seeds and starting to toss them at me. I quickly reached into the bag of discarded pumpkin insides and started to throw them back at Y/N. A couple of them missed and skidded along the hardwood floors and under the couch. “You’re going to have to help me clean those up!”

“You started this!” I said as I threw another seed at them.

“Did not!”

We continued to throw pumpkin seeds all over the place until I finally ran out. Casper was running around, attempting to catch the pumpkin seeds in his mouth. More than once, he nearly crashed into Y/N, throwing them off their rhythm. Tyler mostly ignored the entire thing and continued to work on his own pumpkin, enjoying the peace of not having small objects hitting him in the face every few seconds, despite the fact that this war had been his idea in the first place.

“Are you two done?” he asked once the seeds finally stopped flying.

“For now,” Y/N said, shooting me a look.

“I’ll call a truce if you do.”

“Deal.”

I held out a gross pumpkin-goop covered hand. Y/N studied my hand for a moment before giving in and shaking it anyway.

“Good. Now no more pumpkin projectiles,” Tyler laughed.

“Pumpkin projectiles,” I repeated with a snort.

Things went back to being peaceful for awhile. The three of us were working away on our pumpkins and talking about potential snacks Tyler could make for the party that he was hosting tomorrow. My pumpkin design was going well, or at least, well enough that you could tell it was an alien. As for my artistic ability, that was an entirely different story.

Deciding that it had been long enough since the last time I messed with Y/N, I started to hatch a plan to bother them yet again. They had been pretty consistently skipping over songs, which involved them turning their back to me for a couple seconds while they waited for one they liked enough to let play. This was also the perfect opportunity for me to take the tool they just so happened to be using to make their ghost design.

“Don’t like this song,” Y/N huffed, setting down their tool and yet again turning their back to Tyler and I. While they were distracted, I scooped up the little scraper and tucked it beneath my leg where they wouldn’t be able to find it. Tyler took notice of this and immediately began to smile.

I watched as Y/N turned back around and reached for their tool, only to find the spot where they had left it empty. They began to look around, even going so far as to lift up their pumpkin to see if it had somehow slipped under there. Tyler and I were barely containing our laughter, which Y/N eventually took notice of.

“Alright, which one of you has it?” they asked, crossing their arms.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Tyler said.

“Oh, come on,” they huffed. “I know I’m a bit absent-minded at times but there’s no way I misplaced an entire pumpkin tool.”

“What does it look like?” I asked, pretending to be concerned.

“It’s a little, like, orange tool. This big,” they said, holding their fingers up for reference. “Wait, hold on a second. I’m still not entirely convinced that you didn’t take it.”

“Does it look like this?” I asked, grabbing it from beneath my leg.

“Yes, thank you,” they said, reaching for it. I wasn’t ready to give in so easily, so I pulled my arm back and out of Y/N’s reach. They frowned and scooted closer to me, reaching their arm as far as it would go. “Josh! Give it here,” they laughed.

“No way.”

“Josh! Come on.”

They moved forward, grabbing onto my bicep and trying to pull it towards them. I resisted, but not so much that I would accidentally punch something if they decided to let go all of a sudden.

“I thought we had a truce,” they laughed as they tugged on my arm.

“We had a truce for… what was it? Pumpkin projectiles?”

“That was it,” Tyler chimed in.

“You two are the worst.”

I tried to move the arm that was supporting my body a little further back, but I miscalculated how much weight was on it and ended up falling straight back onto the hardwood. This caused Y/N to tumble right on top of me, leaving our noses only a few inches apart. I didn’t have to look in a mirror to know that my face was the brightest red that it had been all day.

“I’ll be taking that, thank you,” Y/N grinned, taking the tool out of my grip that had now loosened significantly.

I was still in a daze when Y/N fully climbed off of me and went back to sitting behind their own pumpkin. Tyler was looking at me with raised eyebrows, but I was avoiding his gaze. There were already enough butterflies in my stomach as it was and I didn’t need Tyler’s taunting look to make them even worse.

“Are you two almost done with your pumpkins?” Y/N asked as if nothing had happened. “I want to start the movie soon.”

“What movie are we watching?” Tyler asked.

“I was thinking The Conjuring. One of the best horror movies there is. Is that ok with you two?”

“Fine with me.”

“Yeah,” I said, swallowing hard. “Me too.”

*     *     *

“Do you have any other blankets?” I asked, noticing there were only two sitting on the couch.

“No, those are all I’ve got. We can share, if that’s ok with you?” Y/N asked, raising their eyebrows.

“Yeah, that’s ok. I’d rather not be alone under a blanket by myself while watching a horror movie, anyway.”

“Agreed,” Y/N smiled. “And there’s no way that Tyler is going to want to share a blanket with anyone.”

“Definitely not.”

I grabbed the larger of the two blankets and got settled on one end of the couch. Y/N always liked to sit between Tyler and I, especially when watching scary movies. They always joked around, saying that they felt safe with two celebrities on either side of them.

“Coming?” I asked, holding the blanket up for them to get comfortable.

The microwave went off in the other room, drawing their attention away. “Let me grab that, then I’ll come get comfortable.”

“Sounds good.”

I stared at some of the posters that Y/N had on their walls while I waited for them to return with snacks. Most of them were for movies that they particularly liked or bands that they had gone to see, although Tyler and I didn’t have the honor of being hung in the living room. Y/N always said that it was too cheesy to have their best friends on the wall, especially when they had guests over.

My looking around was interrupted by Casper joining me on the couch and plopping himself down right next to me. He looked at me for a moment before resting his head on my thigh and blinking up on me. Unable to resist his puppy dog eyes, I happily scratched at his fluffy ears.

“Ok, snacks are here!” Y/N grinned, returning with a bowl of popcorn and a bag of candy.

“Smells delicious,” I smiled.

“Thanks, I made it in the microwave,” they giggled. “Casper, down.”

I once again held the blanket out so that they could crawl under it once Casper was out of the way. They sat down next to me, leaving a small gap between us. I tried my best to mask my disappointment, but then decided that for once I wanted to make a bit of a move.

“You know, if you get a little closer to me then we can wrap the blanket around us a little tighter. It would be warmer.”

Y/N looked at me for a moment before they began to smile. “Good idea.”

They scooted closer so that our legs were now pressed together, sending tingles all the way up to my scalp. Tyler would undoubtedly have some comment about this situation, but I couldn’t bring myself to care. Y/N was cuddled up next to me and that was more than enough to combat anything he had to say.

“Tyler!” Y/N called. “Are you almost done?”

“Yeah, I’m coming! I was just trying to get the bleeding to stop.”

“I should have gone in there and helped him,” Y/N sighed. “If he wasn’t capable of carving a pumpkin without injury, I should have known he wouldn’t be able to bandage it, either.”

Tyler appeared from the bathroom a few minutes later, now sporting a spooky bandage on his finger. He let his gaze linger on the two of us cuddled up under the blanket, but didn’t immediately make a comment. He just grabbed his own blanket and got comfortable on the other side of Y/N.

“Only two blankets, huh?” he smiled.

“I don’t have that many blankets here, Ty. I live alone.”

“I just asked a question!”

Y/N rolled their eyes and grabbed the remote from where it was sitting on the coffee table. The movie hadn’t even started and I could already feel my heart starting to beat a little harder in my chest, although that could have just been because Y/N was pressed up next to me. 

“Ready?” they asked, hovering over the “Play Movie” button.

“Ready,” I nodded.

“Ready.”

Thirty minutes of the movie had passed and it was going surprisingly well. There hadn’t been anything too scary, and I was beginning to wonder if it was really going to live up to all the hype that Y/N had given it. Tyler had even fallen asleep on the opposite end of the couch and was now snoring lightly. Next to me, Y/N was watching the screen intently. 

I was about to make a comment about the movie not being scary when the music ramped up and the first of what would eventually be many scary scenes played out on the screen. Without realizing it, my hand flew out and grabbed onto Y/N’s arm, gripping it tightly.

“Ow, Josh,” they laughed softly. “My arm.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, immediately loosening my grip. “I just wasn’t expecting that to happen.”

“That’s kind of the point.”

I let out a long breath of air. Maybe watching a scary movie hadn’t been such a good idea. Y/N must have noticed my distress, because they reached out and put a hand on my arm.

“Hey, it’s going to be ok. I’m right here.”

They slowly moved their hand along my arm until their fingers were laced with mine. All of the fear seemed to instantly melt away as I held their hand in my own. When I gave Y/N’s hand a light squeeze as thanks, I was met with one in return.

Maybe Tyler was onto something.

****

Tag list: @topownsmyheart​ @tylersheavydirtysoul​ @wearebxnditos​

[phaedrecameron]

House of Fraser Chpt 16 - The First Six Months

Lallybroch – The Holidays

“Fergus, trobhad!”     

Jamie fastened the buttons of his quilted Barbour jacket as he kneeled and clasped a leash to the dog’s collar. Slamming the door of his Da’s ancient Rover, he looked up the small path leading to the stones at Craigh na Dun. Fergus whined as he sat near his owner’s leg.  Jamie scratched his ear, “it’s okay, boy. I’ve finally lost my mind.”  Fergus didn’t appreciate the joke.  

Jamie did, in fact, feel ridiculous. Roaming around ancient stones in search of their connection to Claire? He chuckled to himself thinking of her face when he shared the story of The Woman from Balnain. She was very respectful, listened carefully, but plainly thought it a fairytale – an eccentricity she was willing to accept to be with him. He prayed that’s all it was, but Frank was no fairytale.

He led Fergus slowly around the stones. Nothing unusual, nothing like what he experienced, or perhaps imagined, on Leòdhas. Suddenly, Fergus jerked away. Jamie followed his gaze to a large stone with a cleft. He moved toward the stone, but Fergus wouldn’t come.  Jamie slackened the leash and touched the stone. A sudden vibration.

“Christ!”

Fergus growled and barked, ready to defend them both.

Jamie realized it was the mobile in his pocket. He laughed at his foolishness, but his heart was still pounding when he checked the screen.

STUBBORN SASSENACH Didyou make it ok?

Jamie began to type a quick reply.

“A mhac!”

Jamie looked up to see Brian Fraser cresting the hill. He released the leash to allow Fergus to run to his father.

“Da, what are ye doing out here in the cold? Come, Mam will kill us both.”

“Oh, I wanted to see how yer research was goin’?” Brian patted Fergus’ head. “Any inspiration?”

“What? Och, no much. Let’s go.” Jamie led his father to the vehicles. “Da?”

Brian’s dark features trained on his son, “Aye?”

“Nothin’. Glad to see ye is all.”

London – Winter Date Day

“What was your favorite part?” Claire asked around a large bite of churro.

“The King lookin’ like a pompous jackass.” Jamie pulled her close and licked the cinnamon-sugar from her lips. “Lafayette was good too and of course Hamilton was a Scot.”

Claire smiled to herself as they walked through London’s West End. She wasn’t sure Alexander Hamilton was rightly identified as a Scot, but she knew better than to get between Jamie and the love of his country and its people.

“Thanks for skipping work to come to a matinee,” she grinned and grabbed his hand. “Tea?”

Since his return from Scotland, they’d been on four dates. On all four occasions their plans were modified because they ended up having sex before they could get out the door. Her physical need of him was only outpaced by his growing stranglehold on her heart. When she spoke, he listened. He wasn’t thinking about how to refute what she’d just said or what he planned to say next; he just listened. That simple act completely disarmed her.

But today, on their fifth date, Claire was determined to keep to their original plan. She made Jamie meet her at the theater - they could have sex after.

“Are ye sure we have time for tea? Ye said ye wanted to be at the hospital by 5am tomorrow?”

“Well, yes…”

“Because I plan to make ye quiver and scream my name at least twice.” He casually checked the time on his mobile. “And ye struggle to rise even after a full night of sleep, so…?”

Jamie’s Flat -Burns Night

Bloody hell!

Fergus whined in sympathy as he watched Claire stare helplessly in the large saucepan on the stove; pieces of exploded haggis floating to the surface.

She heard Jamie’s key in the door. Shit! Shit! Shit!

Fergus leapt to greet Jamie and provide Claire a minute to compose herself.

“Claire? What are ye….” His dining room table was draped in Grant colors; flowers, candles, and a bottle of whisky in the center.

He found her fashed in his kitchen. She was wearing a tartan skirt in MacDonald colors and a Cameron patterned head band.

“Happy Burns Night,” she blurted as she nervously blocked his view of the stove.

Every time Jamie thought it impossible to love her more, his heart simply grew more chambers for her to fill.  He glanced over her shoulder at the ruined haggis, then gathered her in his arms. “Happy Burns Night to ye.” He brushed ground oatmeal from her cheek. “Dinna worry over the food,” he touched her headband, “yer an ignorant sassenach, ye need training is all.”  

She smiled, “I’m sorry. I wanted to surprise…”

He silenced her with a kiss. “‘Tis perfect, truly. Come, let’s have a dram.”

“I really must love you to drink that battery acid.”

Jamie felt a pain in his chest – another chamber added.  

She wound her hands around his neck, “I love you, Jamie.”

Hospital Lounge - Valentine’s Day

“Is that…it canna be?” Geillis asked in wonder.

Claire brushed the powdered sugar from her chest and held up a pair of scrubs.

“The man sends ye flowers, donuts and designer scrubs?!”

Claire smiled as her fingers traced the soft tartan lining. She grabbed the note, Geillis looking over her shoulder.

Sassenach,

To keep you warm when I’m not with you & to help with your training – these are Fraser colors!

Happy Valentine’s Day

J

Jamie’s Flat -Milan Fashion Week

“Yer sure it’s alright? Marsali or my sister..”

“It’s fine,” Claire pushed him toward the door, “you know I love Fergus. Hurry, you’ll miss your flight.”

“Okay, I’ll call ye when I land.” Jamie pulled her in for a kiss, “once more?”

“James Fraser, I will not be responsible for you missing your own show. Go!”

“I’ll be quick.” His hands dropped to her arse.

She snorted and nipped his ear, “I’m not interested in quick. And here, don’t forget your sketchbook.”

“It’s for ye – the designs I’m showing.”

He’d never before let her see one of his sketchbooks. Claire tucked the book under arm. “I’ll miss you, Jamie. Come back to me.”

“Always.”

Once he left, she curled on his sofa and opened the book. She sniffed as she knuckled away tears. There were dozens of drawings - dresses, trousers, skirts – all in different colors and textures, but always her. She could see the mole on her back, or the smile that broke free when he called her sassenach, her hair in the wind, her crooked pinky finger. She fell asleep, Jamie’s book clutched to her chest, Fergus at her feet.  

Jamie’s office - A Spring Day at HF

“Ssshhh.” Claire’s hand went to Jamie’s mouth. “Someone will hear you.” She ducked back under his desk and between his legs.

“Let em. They all know.” He grabbed her shoulders. “Up, up. I want ye from behind.”

Jamie helped her to stand in her stilettos and flipped her around.

“What do you mean, ‘they all know’?” Claire asked over her shoulder as he kneaded her bottom.

She felt him chuckle against her back as he pushed her thighs further apart.

“Sassenach, ye show up here in nothing but yer wee trench coat, stilettos, and the look of determination on yer face. They all know what yer about.”

“Wot?!” She turned around, eyes to her hairline.

“Come now,” he kissed her nose, “ye know that’s why ye do it – so everyone knows I belong to ye.” He flipped her around once more.  “And I dinna mean for ye to waste yer time doing so.”

She groaned loudly as he thrust home.

“Claire.” Marsali and John said in unison as Claire emerged from Jamie’s office.

Claire pulled the knot tighter on her trench, nodded in response, and causally walked toward the exit.

A few moments later, Jamie appeared. Marsali laughed, rolled her eyes and walked to the back row of computers. John handed Jamie a tablet of new designs, “so does Claire have a brother?”

Speyside Whisky Festival, Scotland – Jamie’s birthday

“We could go to the Seeldh?” Claire pointed to the brochure as Jamie pulled the hired Rover up to their B&B.

“Ceilidh, lass. And that we could.”

She leaned over and kissed him, “ceilidh, huh? Well, you choose – your birthday, my treat.”

*** Jamie smiled as Claire pretended to drink her dram. She was so stubborn. He tried to dissuade her from gifting him a whisky festival for his birthday, but she insisted she would grow to appreciate the drink. Jamie decided to hedge his bets and secreted three bottles of wine in his suitcase.

“I need the loo,” Claire whispered in Jamie’s ear. “Do you want the rest of this?”

“Aye.” Jamie took her dram and watched her arse as she disappeared into the crowd. ***

“Is that yer match? The tall ginger lad?”

Claire turned while washing her hands. A small, mousey brown haired woman stood at her side.

“I suppose he is.”

“Och, dinna worry. I’m no tryin to take yer man, it’s quite clear that would be impossible. I’ve just never seen a matched pair from the same side. Rare.”

Claire took a step back.

The woman’s grey eyes moved to the silver strands at Claire’s temple, “‘tis okay, my cousins are travelers also. Do ye dream of going?  Where is your other?”

“If you’ll excuse me.” Claire brushed past the woman.

“Sassenach, what’s wrong?”  Her skin was cold, her whisky eyes gone drab.

“Too many Scots,” she laughed weakly. “Do you mind if we leave?”

Lallybroch- Summer

Claire’s grip tightened on the strap of her crossbody as she stared out the windshield. Today was the day she was to meet Jamie’s parents at his childhood home. She tried to focus on Jamie’s words, but all she could hear was the thrum of her heartbeat in her ears.

“Claire? Come, ‘tis just my parents. They’ll love ye as I do.”

“But what if…I…Jamie I don’t have a family! What if I do it wrong?”

Jamie reached over to fix the wide collar of her jumper. “They’re easy, ‘tis my sister ye’ll have to prepare for.” He tried to wink and unclipped her seatbelt.

Claire grabbed his hand and followed him up the gravel walkway. Her pace slowed as she took in the enormity of Lallybroch. “You grew up here? Can we see the tower?”

“I’ll show ye round the grounds after. The weather’s nice. I’d like to see yer bare skin against the heather.”

“That’s not what I want to see!”  She began poking him on the side. “You can set your bare arse on some sticky plant.”

“Jamie!” Brian Fraser waved from the doorway.

Claire would be damned if she’d cower behind Jamie. She straightened her shoulders and walked directly toward Jamie’s father. “Hullo Mr. Fraser, it’s so lovely to meet you. Please, call me Claire.” She felt Jamie’s hand on her lower back.

“Likewise, lass. And it’s Brian.”

His handshake was firm and his voice was warm honey, just like Jamie’s. She stood still as he looked her over. He glanced to Jamie and a broad smile transformed his face. In that moment, they could have been brothers. Brian engulfed Claire in a bear hug.

“I’m so very glad yer here Claire. We wondered when…”

“Da! Dinna smother her.” Jamie chuckled.

Brian released Claire. “Sorry, sorry. Come inside.” He turned and went inside.

Jamie touched Claire’s arm. “Are ye alright?  Dinna know what’s gotten in to him.”

She brushed a curl behind her ear, a slight blush on her cheeks. “It’s okay, haven’t you brought home a lass before?” She teased.

His eyes narrowed, “no, yer the first.”

Pleased, she wrapped her arm around his and pulled him inside. They were met by Ellen in the large open living room area.

“Hello, dear. We’ve been waiting for Jamie to bring ye around.”

Claire stared. The resemblance was unmistakable. She was as beautiful as Jamie was handsome. Tall and regal, she reached out and touched the swatch of silver at Claire’s temple. “Ye’ve a long time still.” Claire remained silent. “Yer eyes are remarkable..’tis almost a shame yer bairns will have Jamie’s color.”

“Christ! Mam!” Jamie nervously laughed and tried to pull Claire away from his mother.

Claire wouldn’t budge.

“It’s okay.” Claire reached out and grabbed Ellen’s hands. She was jolted by cold than warmth.

Jamie watched in confusion as the two women seemed to silently communicate.

Brian brought a hand to Jamie’s shoulder, “come son, I’ve somethin ye need to see.”

Jamie hesitated.

“Dinna worry, yer Mam will look after Claire.”

With a backward glance, Jamie followed his father to the attic. He hadn’t stepped foot in the attic since he was wee.

“Give me a hand, will ye? Brian was struggling with a large chest.

Jamie rushed over to help his father pull the chest into the light.

“Da, what…”

“Do ye love Claire?”

Jamie looked toward the attic stairway. “Aye.”

“Ye want to marry her?”

“Da, I’m grown. Whatever talk ye’ve been preparin’..”

“Ken everythin’ do ye?” Brian smiled and opened the chest. He pulled out a plaid, “here, do ye recognize it?”

Jamie ran the well worn plaid across his hands. MacKenzie colors. It was nearly threadbare and the ends were frayed. He moved it closer to his face.  There was something odd about its smell and the color was muted, but not from age, it was as though it had been improperly dyed.

“When yer Mam was pregnant, she would wrap herself in that plaid and sing to ye. When you were born, ye wouldna sleep unless that plaid was around ye or in yer crib.”

“I dinna remember.” Jamie sat down the plaid as Brian handed Jamie a thick woolen skirt. It too was unusual. He checked the seams- it wasn’t commercially made.

“Yer Mam loved to show ye that. I thinks it’s why ye took to clothes.”

“Da?”

Brian placed a women’s corset in his son’s hands. “What do ye see lad?”

Jamie eyes dropped to the garment. It was an accurate representation of stays used by mid 18th century Scottish women of high birth. There were no zippers or metal clasps. Jamie ran his finger along an edge of frayed material. He felt a sharp pain as the whale bone nicked his finger.

Jamie bunched the corset in his hands, denying the truth of it.

“Da, what is this? Where did ye..”

“They’re yer mother’s. She was wearing them when I found her; when she came through the stones. 

[madpanda75]

Andie, can I just get some cute fluff with Sonny please? I will love you forever.

Of course you can, lovey! I’m so sorry this is late, I hope you like this! ❤️ I had so much fun writing it. Anything where I can fit in the word “douche nozzle,” is a win for me! 

Part Two (NSFW)

“The Dance” Part One

Your glasses slid down the bridge of your nose while you furiously typed away on your laptop, trying to meet your deadline when suddenly a knock at the door caught your attention. Looking up, you saw Sonny Carisi, your childhood best friend.

“Sonny, what are you doing here?” You smiled brightly and motioned him inside.

He took a seat in front of your desk, “Oh ya’ know, just thought I’d stop by and say hi. I went to Antonio’s bakery and got a cinnamon coffee and those zeppole ya’ love so much.

“That’s so sweet of you. Thanks!” You took a sip of coffee and bit into the powdered sugar donut, the lighter than air pastry melting in your mouth. Then it hit you. This wasn’t just a random visit, Sonny wanted something. You narrowed your eyes at him, “Ok….what do you want.”

He gifted you a wide eyed look, feigning innocence, “What are ya’ talkin’ about? Can’t I just stop by and visit my best friend?”

“Sonny, I’ve known you since you were 5. You want something.”  You quirked an eyebrow at him. “Spill it.”

“Ok…ya’ caught me.” He sighed. “It’s my niece, not Mia, but Sofia, Gina’s girl. It’s her 8th grade middle school dance, ya’ know the big one they have at St. Agnes? She asked me to chaperone but Gina called me this morning and said the school needed more volunteers…so…I may have told her that ….you would chaperone too.”

“Dominick Carisi Jr! Are you insane?!” You exclaimed. “I’m not spending my Friday night babysitting middle schoolers. I hated middle school. I still get flashbacks of Jessica Balducci telling the entire 7th grade class that I was President of the Itty Bitty Titty Committee. No way! No sir! You’re on your own on this one, pal!”

Sonny leaned forward, his hands clasped together, staring at you as if you were his only lifeline. “Please, Y/N. Gina can’t make it, neither can my other sisters. If they don��t get more chaperones, they’ll cancel the dance. It’ll break Sofia’s heart. Please…I’m about to get on my knees and beg ya’ to come with me tonight.” He pouted, giving you his best puppy dog eyes.

You said nothing at first, letting your friend sweat it out for a brief moment before throwing your head back and groaning in defeat. “Fine…I’ll do it, BUT you owe me BIG time!”

“I’ll make it up to you, I swear!” He glanced down at his watch. “I gotta go. I’m going to be late for work. Tonight? Pick you up at 6:30?”

You waved bye to your friend, going back to the article you were writing but you couldn’t concentrate. All you could think about was what the hell do you wear to an 8th grade dance on Staten Island.

Sonny knocked on your door at 6:30 on the dot. He smiled brightly when you greeted him, dressed in a v neck sleeveless floral dress with a soft tulle skirt that hit right above your knees and dark blue platform sandals that matched the embroidered flowers adorning your dress. “Wow,” Sonny whistled. “You look amazing.”

“Thanks. You clean up pretty nice too.”

“Thanks. I…ummmm…I got ya’ a little something.” His cheeks flushed pink, motioning towards one of the corsages in his hand, the other being for his niece. Now it was your turn to blush as Sonny took your hand and placed the corsage around your wrist. “Perfect, now you’re ready.” He softly said, leading you towards his car.

Before you and Sonny went to the dance, you stopped to pick up Sofia. When she opened the door, it was obvious she had been crying, her mascara running down her tear streaked face, her nose red. “Sofia? Honey, what’s wrong?” Sonny asked.

“Nothing…I’m….I’m…..I’m not going to the dance.” She cried and run upstairs, slamming the door. You and Sonny stood in the foyer speechless. “Teenagers,” He mumbled.

“Let me go talk to her.” You walked upstairs, following the sound of Sofia crying.

Standing in front of the teenager’s bedroom, you thought back to when you when you were thirteen and how awful it was, the mean girls, the hormonal changes. The only silver lining was Sonny. He had been by your side through it all. You both leaned on each other. Truth be told, you had a massive crush on him back then and even now all these years later, there were still moments when Sonny made your heart flutter. You let out a deep breath and knocked on the door.

“I don’t want to talk right now, Uncle Sonny.” A small voice said from behind the door.

“Sofia? It’s Y/N. Can I come in?” After a long moment passed, the door slowly creaked open, you walked in to see Sofia sitting on her bed. She had changed into sweats, her bubble gum pink dress tossed aside. “You ok, sweetie?” You sat down next to her.

“No,” she sniffled.

You placed a hand on her shoulder, “Do you want to talk about it? I mean…it wasn’t too long ago that I was thirteen. Maybe I can help?”

She looked up at you with red rimmed eyes, “It’s….this….guy, Nick Bianchi. I like him…a lot and today at lunch this….bitch, Ava, told everyone that I had a crush on him.” The teenager began to cry. “Everyone was laughing and Nick ran out of the cafeteria. I was humiliated. I can’t go to the dance. What if he’s there? What if people start teasing me?”

“So what?” You said, wrapping your shoulder around her. “You are a sweet and beautiful girl and if Nick can’t see that then he’s a moron and doesn’t deserve you. I know middle school can be rough, but it gets better, I promise. Don’t let those douche nozzles dictate your life. They don’t deserve your tears.”

“You really think so?”

“I know so. You go to that dance tonight and blow them all away.”

Sofia went to her vanity mirror and tried to fix her mascara. “I’m a mess. I won’t be ready in time.”

“I think we can fix this.” You smiled and shouted for Sonny to get your emergency makeup kit from the car.

He came back in record time, bringing up a cosmetic bag filled with enough makeup that it would put Sephora to shame. “Good thing you brought this, although I don’t know too many women who have emergency makeup kits.”

“A girl’s gotta be prepared. You never know when you’re going to run into the captain of the football team.” You winked.

You, Sonny, and Sofia made it to the school in record time. You couldn’t believe that you were back at St. Agnes Middle School, but all horrific flashbacks were forgotten when you looked over at Sofia. She was beautiful, a smile planted on her face, dancing and laughing with her friends.

The rest of the evening went smoothly. Although you didn’t recognize any of the songs the DJ played and you were constantly catching prepubescent boys staring at your chest, the dance was actually fun. Sonny and you were flirting the entire night, making eyes at each other from across the gym. You were managing the punch bowl and he was making sure the teenage couples weren’t getting too handsy. You snorted a laugh when you overheard him say, “Make sure you leave room for the Holy Spirit.”

As the dance was winding down, Sofia came up to you with a piece of paper. “Uncle Sonny wanted me to give this to you.”

Opening the slip of paper you saw the question: “Do you want to dance with me?” Underneath the question were two checkboxes, one for yes and one for no. You giggled and grabbed a pen, checking your answer. “Give this back to your uncle. Tell him I’ll meet him on the dance floor.”

Five minutes passed and you were shifting from foot to foot waiting for Sonny. The light from the disco ball on the ceiling reflected against the gym floor as couples danced all around you. When you saw him approach, butterflies began to flutter in your stomach. “Hey….may I have this dance?”

You beamed and took his hand as he pulled you close. “I thought you’d never ask.”

Sonny looked incredibly handsome, you were nervous and excited all at once. It felt as if you were transported back in time about to dance with your middle school crush. He placed his hands on your waist while you wrapped your arms around his neck, swaying side to side when all of the sudden the music changed, the soft piano opening to K-Ci and JoJo’s “All My Life” began to play from the speakers.

I will never find another lover sweeter than youSweeter than youAnd I will never find another lover more precious than youMore precious than you

You gasped, it was your favorite song growing up. “Oh my God! Sonny!? You remembered!?”

He grinned, “Of course, I remember. You played this song all the time when we were kids. I had to bribe the DJ twenty bucks to play it, but then I took back five when he didn’t know who K-Ci and JoJo were.”

You made a face, “How could he not know who K-Ci and JoJo are. This is the quintessential middle school slow jam.”

“I know, right? We gotta educate these youngsters on the finer points of 90s R&B.” He turned his head and saw his niece dancing with her crush a few feet away. “Looks like Sofia is having a good time.”

You followed his gaze and softly smiled as you watched them. “That’s nice at that age. When you like a guy and they like you back. Everything is simple and new, you’re not tainted by the world yet.”

Sonny nodded his head, biting his bottom lip, looking back to you, “Ya’ know….” He huffed out a laugh and shook his head, “Forget it.”

“No what? Spit it out.” You said, absentmindedly running your fingers through the hair on the nape of his neck.

“When we were kids….I ummmmm….I had a major crush on you.” He blushed, the tips of his ears turning pink. “I still do,” he mumbled.

Your heart skipped a beat, listening to Sonny’s confession. “I do too. I love you, Sonny Carisi.” You reached on your tiptoes and placed a soft small kiss on the corner of his mouth.

A smile slowly crept onto his face when you pulled away, “I love ya’ too, doll.” He leaned his forehead against yours while you both continued to dance.

And all my life I’ve prayed for someone like youAnd I thank God that I, that I finally found youAll my life I’ve prayed for someone like youAnd I hope that you feel the same way tooYes, I pray that you do love me too

“Do ya’ want to get some air?” He softly asked.

“Sure,” you replied as he led you off the dance floor. You stopped in your tracks when you spied the broom closet and smirked, back in middle school, all the cool 8th grade girls would go in there with their boyfriends to make out. “Actually, let’s go in here.”

You glanced around to make sure no one was looking before pulling him into the closet. It was pitch black. Sonny took a step forward towards you, his foot ending up in an empty bucket. You both shushed each other, trying not to laugh too loud while stumbling around in the dark. As your eyes adjusted to the darkness, you finally found each other.

He placed his hands on your waist, pulling you close to him. You could make out a hint of a smile dancing in his lips, a few strands of his gelled hair flopping onto his forehead. “Is this ok?” He whispered, his eyes glancing down to your mouth before moving back up to meet your gaze.

“It’s more than ok.” You stood on your tiptoes and cupped his cheek. “Kiss me,” you whispered back, your lips brushing up against his. He leaned forward, gifting you a slow, sensual kiss. You sighed against his mouth, years of pent up sexual tension and emotion finally being released in that single moment.

He moved closer to you, tilting his head to deepen the kiss, his tongue seeking entrance into your mouth, mingling with yours. You tangled your fingers in his hair as the kiss quickly became more fervent. Sonny softly moaned and pressed you up against the wall, his hands roaming your form. You melted under his touch, your body craving more when a bright white light blinded you and a shrill voice pierced the air.

“Mr. Carisi! Ms. Y/L/N!”

“Sister Eileen!” You exclaimed upon seeing your 8th grade English teacher, the bane of your existence when you were in school. Sonny was speechless, his jaw dropped to the floor.

“This is behavior unbecoming of teenagers let alone two adults. Out of the closet now! Don’t think that just because you two are out of school that I won’t give you both detention.”

“Sorry Sister.” You and Sonny mumbled and walked out of the closet.

“I can’t believe she’s still alive and teaching.” You said, making your way back to the gym.

“They say evil never dies.” Sonny replied.

The dance ended pretty soon after you were caught. Sonny drove Sofia home with you in the passenger seat, discreetly running your hand over his, playing with his fingers.

“Oh my God! Guess what happened tonight.” Sofia piped up from the backseat causing you two to separate. “Madison told Becca who told me that Sister Eileen caught some kids making out in the broom closet.”

“Wow….that’s awful. Kids these days…I tell ya’…they have no respect,” Sonny said, his face turning redder by the minute.

Sofia shrugged, “I guess the guy had his hand up her dress and everything.”

“We didn’t get that far,” you muttered.

“What?” Sofia asked.

“Nothing sweetie,” you winked at Sonny as he pulled up to his sister’s house.

Once Sofia was dropped off, you leaned over the car console and kissed Sonny sweetly. He smiled into the kiss, playfully biting down on your bottom petal. “Want to come over to my place? My parents aren’t home,” you teased.

“Just as long as I make curfew,” he said before placing another gentle kiss on your lips. As you both drove back into the city, you laughed to yourself, after all these years, all it took was one dance to make you realize that the love of your life was right in front of you all this time.

@amirightcounsellor @obfuscateyummy @beltzboys2015-blog @letty-o @sweetsummertime99 @sonnysdoll @lyssa1385 @burningsorr0ws @katmstanton @gibbs274 @izzythefanfreak @southern-magnolia @riodallas @eclecticminded @delia26 @glimmerglittergirl @sweetcannolicarisi

[themagnificentnatalie]

My new AU, MixedUpTale!

So, I was bored, okay? Anyways, the characters! 

Frisk: They fell down and sadly died. However, they came back as a ghost monster and is red for determination, their soul. They still have an expressionless face, but they can show emotions if they feel like it. Gaster found their body, but then saw Frisk, leaving him surprised. They will have a party, which only Monster Kid and Chara can join. 

Monster Kid: He is swapped with Flowey. Whenever Frisk finds him, he is surprised and wants to become friends with Frisk. There is a yes or no option for this. If Frisk picks YES, Monster Kid is excited, and he becomes a member of your party. If Frisk picks NO, Monster Kid is a little disappointed, but he asks if he can at least join Frisk’s party. Frisk will say yes to him, and he’ll join your party. Either way, MK joins their party. He also takes off the flower hat he put on and leaves it behind. 

Gaster: He is swapped with Toriel. Whenever he found Frisk as a ghost monster, he was shocked. He bakes Frisk and Monster Kid something he calls “Wingding Pie”. It is cinnamon pie with powdered sugar and black icing on it, and it heals 20 HP. Whenever Frisk and MK ask Gaster when they can leave, Gaster tells them to wait where they are, and he goes to the Ruins door, and unlocks it. Gaster then goes back to where Frisk and MK are waiting, and tells them to follow him. As Frisk and MK are about to go out to Snowdin, Gaster hugs and tells them goodbye. He tells you a brief story of his two sons, Sans and Papyrus, then wishes you good luck and lets them leave. 

Chara: They are swapped with Napstablook. They live with Gaster in the Ruins. Their mother, Toriel, vanished without a trace one day, and their father, Asgore, is always too busy with his boating services to take care of Chara, so he asked Gaster to take care of them, which he accepted. They don’t exactly join Frisk’s party, they simply just hang around with Frisk and MK. In the short battle with them, they have knife attacks that only cause 2 damage. One “attack” in the battle that causes no damage reads “I don’t feel like trying to kill you guys.” They become friends with Frisk and MK and follow them around, giving them chocolate if out of healers. 

Muffet: She is swapped with Sans. She addresses Frisk, MK, and Chara as “deary” mostly. She has a little vendor at Hotland where she sells spider donuts. If Frisk tries to get one for 50 G, Muffet raises the price every time they try to buy it until it reaches 5000 G, to which Muffet tells you she’s kidding and gives you a spider donut for free, stating, “It’s on the house, deary.” When she takes Frisk, MK, and Chara to Papyrus’s in Snowdin, they all can either choose spaghetti or dinosaur oatmeal. She hangs around with Grillby, who wants to get into the Royal Guard to impress Queen Gothic, the mother of Sans and Papyrus, and ex-wife of Gaster. In the genocide route, she introduces her pet to you and uses it to blast you with sprinkles, which give 10 damage. Croissants and donuts are used as attacks as well. There are obvious hints giving off that she has a crush on Grillby.

Grillby: He is swapped with Papyrus. He wears some kind of “battle body” and a green scarf, and in the date/hangout with him, he nervously gives Frisk and Chara a burger, and not really nervously, MK fries. He is pretty calm and collected, and doesn’t really like to deal with nonsense crap. He still wears glasses, complaining sometimes that they make him look like a nerd. He is mostly oblivious to Muffet’s crush on him. In his battle, he uses fire attacks and spatulas, which give 3 damage. 

Flowey: Frisk, MK, and Chara meet him in Snowdin. If Frisk tries to talk to Flowey, he responds with “Go bother someone else, idiot.” The three see him again in Waterfall. If Frisk tries to talk to him again, he’ll reply, “Are you following me? Freak.” and he’ll go into the ground. 

Natalie: She replaces the Annoying Dog. During Grillby’s battle, she grabs his scarf and runs off with it, being yelled at by Grillby. She appears again in Waterfall, where there is a small room with a huge bowl of taffy. MK and Chara grab a piece each, and then Natalie comes into the room, grabs the bowl and runs out. She appears once again at the end of the Pacifist Route, next to Sans. When Frisk, MK, and Chara talk to her, she whispers to them that she admits Sans is cute. As she is the creator of MixedUpTale, she is the Annoying Dog of the AU. She is a human. 

Burgerpants: He is swapped with Undyne. (More info soon!)

Nice Cream Guy: He is swapped with Alphys. (More info soon!) 

Temmie: She is swapped with Mettaton. (More info soon!)

Dogamy and Dogaressa: They are swapped with Catty and Bratty. (More info soon!) 

Gothic: She is swapped with Asgore. (More info soon!)

Toriel: She is swapped with Gaster. (More info soon!)

[rosesisupposes]

Destined, part 19

aka Loganberry?

Character Tags: Virgil/Anixety ; Patton/Creativity ; Patton/Morality ; Logan/Logic ; Remy/Sleep ; Dante/Deceit

Chapter Pairings: Platonic Moxiety, Logicality, Prinxiety

Chapter Warnings: Virgil Swears A Lot, Remy Is A Flirt, Allusion to kidnapping

Reader Tags: @residentanchor @royally-anxious @bewarethegrammarpolice   @fellowthomassandersfander @jemthebookworm @arandompasserby  @sparkly-rainbow-salt

Summary: After centuries of acting as an oracle to heroes, quest-seekers, and villains alike, Virgil just wants to live as a normal, modern human. For someone who can see infinite probabilities, you’d think he’d know better.

<<Chapter 18 | Masterlist | Chapter 20>>

read on ao3

It was a fine day, in Virgil’s opinion. The sun was out, the weather was crisp, and he’d woken up still happy with his newly-dyed hair. 

Upon his arrival to How You Brewin’, Remy had immediately latched onto his head and cooed praise over his amethyst locks. “YAASS BOI,  look at you discovering polychromatic hair! This is why you need to come to The Crypt, you would SLAY the dance floor and break all the hearts. You could follow in my glamorous footprints!”

“Glad you like it, Rem. Gonna have to pass on the danceclub heartbreak, though.”

“Fiiiine,” his boss sighed. “I’ll just have to tell them all to come here to have their hearts broken. There’s no way I’m sleeping on the business angle here, gurl. Broken heart equals party hard, it’s just math.”

Virgil flushed slightly. “I really think you’re giving me too much credit. People are not going to take one look at me and go head over heels.”

“It’s true, some might not. Not all of them can pull off heels as well as I can,” Remy nodded philosophically. “But for real, boi, look at you. You’ve got Roman, THE prettiest gay in this town, except for my lovely self of course...”

“Of course,” Virgil replied, straight-faced.

“And he was flirting with you the minute he walked through those doors! Face it. You’re hot, and it’s gonna make me money. Now go show Patton, he’ll flip if he doesn’t get to see his son’s new hair.”

Virgil went. He wasn’t sure if he was going to see Patton or running away from Remy, but either way, the bakery seemed like a safer place to be at this particular moment.

Patton was rolling out pastry when Virgil walked around the counter, but something seemed off. The pastry was stretched and too thin in some places, horribly bunched and thick in others, and the baker continued to roll without any seeming care to the inconsistencies.

“Good morning, dad.”

No response. Virgil was so surprised he almost walked into a bench. He carefully waved a hand in front of the baker’s face. “Pat? You okay, buddy?”

Patton finally noticed and snapped to attention. He smiled at Virgil, but it was overly wide and appeared strained. “Hey kiddo! I’m just fine and dandy! Just another day in the life as your happy-pappy Patton! Can I get you anything? Some snacks? A muffin? Let me know!”

“Patton. Something’s going on. What’s up?”

“The roof! Also the sky!”

Virgil groaned. “Patton, I know something is wrong. You’re not yourself today. You don’t need to pretend you’re okay if you’re not.”

The baker’s smile trembled. “Virgil, you sweet and sour shadowling, I appreciate your concern. I will be fine!”

“Pat-”

“That was a lie, nothing will ever be fine!” Patton suddenly burst out, diving at Virgil for a desperate hug.

“Hey, it’s okay, what’s wrong?”

“Love has failed me!” cried the baker’s muffled voice.

Virgil pulled Patton up from where the shorter man had lodged himself at his waist. “Pat, are you hurt? What happened?”

“Logan hasn’t texted me back!”

Virgil stared, trying to not roll his eyes. That was it? “Patton, I didn’t even know you had his number! How long has it been?”

Patton sniffed. “I got his number two days ago after you asked us for advice, and for a full day we were texting back and forth. He texts like he’s writing for a genetics journal, but he was responding so quickly until I asked if he wanted to go on a date tonight and he just stopped responding and now he’s avoiding the whole bakafé!”

“Okay, I’m aware I’m not the best at positive thinking, but don’t you think there are alternative explanations for this? Maybe he got called away on fieldwork, or had a family emergency. Or you asked him out, his brain went all ‘Windows Error.exe’ and he threw his phone into the sink.”

Patton looked at Virgil oddly. “Why would he do that to his phone? Is that something that happens normally?”

“Well, no, but I almost did that when Roman texted me the first time,” Virgil muttered, blushing.

“OhhHHHhh that is so cute!” Patton squealed, brightening. “You’re right, kiddo. I shouldn’t focus on only the worst possibilities. Thanks for taking care of your silly old dad.”

“Anytime, Padre. And you’re not silly, you’re just relentlessly positive. You know I appreciate that, except for when you’re covering up your own feelings. Did you need any help with the pastry before I go back to Remy?”

Patton finally noticed the mess on his bench. “Oh my powdered donuts! This is useless. Oh well, guess I’ll need to re-laminate and start again. I won’t keep you here for that, kiddo, it’s pretty tedious. You go take something from the hot case for yourself, though. You’re not avoiding Remy, are you?”

“I won’t be once he stops threatening to make money off my hair.”

Patton’s eyes suddenly flew up and widened. “VIRGE! YOUR HAIR! Congrats on the cool colorful crown!”

Virgil snickered. “Thanks, Pat. I thought you might appreciate it. And it’s all thanks to Talyn for their help with choosing a color and making it actually look good.”

“Hmm, the purple though… that gives me a peri-twinkling of an idea! The pastry dough will have to wait - I need to go bake something. Thank you again, Virgil. You’re my favorite son!”

After the lunch rush, Virgil wandered back to the bakery. Roman had the day off, so had yet to come in, and Virgil was bored.

Patton was putting the finishing touches on a new display of muffins. A chalk sign proclaimed these were a new variety of Jam-Packed Muffins, filled with a jelly that was a made from a hybrid fruit of blackberry and raspberry.

“‘Loganberry’ muffins? Wow, I am really feeling the cuteness welling up inside me. Or maybe that’s vomit,” Virgil drawled.

Patton just grinned. “That’s why I have the scientific name of the berries here as well. It’s not pandering if it’s science!”

“We both know it’s extra pandering if it’s science. Actually, has he come in yet? I haven’t seen him.”

Patton wouldn’t meet the other man’s eyes, instead fiddling with the sign and adding extra flourishes with his bright purple chalk. “I… haven’t seen him. Or gotten a text yet. Wouldn’t his phone be fixed by now, if that was the issue?”

“Pat, it’ll be okay - I’m still sure he’s not trying to turn you down. You didn’t see how nervous he was about talking to you. My whole first week here was a never-ending parade of watching him try to be subtle about checking you out. He’s just bad at words.”

Patton sighed, and smiled weakly. “You’re right. I’m trying to not worry.”

The café bell rang, and Virgil looked over at the door. His face lit up as he saw Roman rolling in, auburn hair mussed from the wind outside.

Patton giggled as Virgil practically sprinted back to the café counter.

“Hello, you,” Roman drawled. Virgil felt an involuntary shiver. It was just not fair how attractive this man was. Maybe Remy had a point - if someone as gorgeous as Roman was in any way attracted to him, maybe his looks weren’t as blah as he’d assumed.

“...hey,” he managed to squeak out. “So, uh. Does it still look okay in person? My hair, I mean?”

“It is positively iridescent, my delightful macchi-hot-to. Oh, also, can you you make macchiatos? I learned about this new drink that I’m just jazzed to try.”

“Yeah, macchiatos aren’t too bad. What did you want?”

“A jumbo, half-whole milk, one quarter 1%, one quarter non-fat, extra hot caramel macchiato with 1 and a half shots decaf, 2 and a half regular, with whip, 2 packets of splenda, 1 sugar in the raw, a touch of vanilla syrup and 3 short sprinkles of cinnamon.”

Virgil just stared. “What the fuck, Ro. Where did you hear about this drink, a Top Ten Drinks to Make Baristas Hate You list?”

Roman grinned, then laughed outright. “How did you know? Ahhh, you caught me, I just wanted to see if I could order it with a straight face. Nah, I’ll just have another caramel surprise. That one’s my good luck charm, after all.”

Virgil blushed faintly as he smiled and started the drink that had started his flirtation with this incredible man.

“So, did you miss me this morning?” Roman asked, leaning over to watch Virgil’s deft hands go from steam wand to gasket, not spilling a drop of liquid. “Was the café gray and bereft without my signature charm and wit?”

“I wish you had been here this morning, Remy is threatening to all but marry me off to the highest bidder at the Crypt. He said that heartbreak is good for business?”

“I will defend your honor, dear Virgil, fear not,” Roman said, posing dramatically. “I will fight back the adoring, crazed hordes and also Remy, that tricky minx. You need no longer fear, Roman Augustus is here!”

The afternoon sun beating through the windows gilded Roman’s silhouette in golden light. Virgil suddenly had a burning urge to wear a dramatic ballgown and watch this man slay ogres in his name. All other thoughts and worries melted away as he gazed at the swoop of soft hair, the shine in his hazel eyes, the elegant curve of his arm and back…

“Virgil, I need your help!”

Patton’s voice, laced with nerves edging on fear, interrupted his reverie and Roman’s pose. Without a word they both immediately rushed to the bakery.

“Pat, what’s wrong?”

“Logan texted back.”

Roman’s eyebrows waggled. “Need some help composing the perfect romantic missive, Padre?”

“No, it’s… I don’t know, this might be just paranoid and crazy, but I don’t think Logan sent this text,” Patton said.

“Paranoid and crazy? Patton, stealing my thing, no big deal…” Virgil snarked, taking the offered phone from the baker’s hands. He did a double take as he looked at the screen.

Sent Yesterday Afternoon

Patton Corwan (Crumb On In): Hel-Lo! P: You know I always enjoy seeing you in the bakafé, but I’d like to see you outside of work, if you’d be interested. P: How does a pasta dinner tomorrow night sound, at that cute Italian place on Magnolia street? My treat :)

Just now

Logan ⚛️💙: A date night sounds so good! ⚛️💙: But :( I procrastinated some work I really need to get done. I’ll be at the office late tonight. ⚛️💙: Let’s take a rain check though, okay cutie? Love you!

Virgil frowned as he passed the phone to Roman. Eyebrows immediately vanished into auburn hair as the other man regarded the odd exchange.

“I’m no expert on this Mr. Abacus Finch of yours, but this seems rather out of character,” Roman commented. “Did he hit his head particularly hard? Or is someone else using his phone?”

Virgil felt his stomach drop at the hypothetical Roman mentioned. He’d seen this exact scenario, and hadn’t made the connection until now. CrapcrapcrapfuckfuckfuckSHIT not now! It’s only been two days, I’m not ready for Roman to already be dragged into this, he thought desperately. Why couldn’t that snake of a sorcerer wait just a little longer?

Roman caught his eye. “Hey, Hot Topic, did you suddenly apply more foundation or is something wrong?”

Virgil shook his head. “I… I don’t think Logan hit his head. Or at least, he didn’t hit his head and then also send this text.”

“You think someone else did? Do you think it’s…” Roman’s voice trailed off as he made a vague gesture that was clearly supposed to connote ‘evil’. It wasn’t one of his more elegant attempts, but given the circumstances, it was understandable.

Virgil nodded in response to the unfinished question. Roman gulped and looked down. “This is it, huh. Okay. I guess I’d better be ready then.”

Patton looked between them, gesturing at himself. “Guess who has ten fingers and is very confused! What is ‘it’? Do you know who texted me? Is Logan okay?”

“Pat, remember when I asked you for advice? That was about this, I think. Roman might be the best positioned of any of us to find Lo and make sure he’s safe.”

Patton looked nervous, but nodded determinedly. “What can I do to help?”

Roman looked at the phone again. “It seems to me that Mr. Steal Yo’ Boy is at Logan’s office. Or will be, after work hours. The bakafé closes soon, right?”

Virgil nodded. “We have less than an hour left ‘til close.”

“I think we can risk waiting to go over until then,” Roman said, checking his watch. “Plus, that’s when the sun starts going down. If Logan isn’t the one texting, but his phone is being used, I’m going to made a guess that this creep will need shadows to hide in.”

“We’re going to wait? What if Logan is in more danger? What do we do between now and then?” Patton wasn’t used to being this nervous, and he did not deal with it well. He was already shifting from foot to foot, eyeing the bakery door like he was considering dashing out at any moment.

Virgil put a hand on the baker’s shoulder. “Logan won’t be in any more danger an hour from now than he is at the moment. Trust me on this. If we go search for him randomly, we might miss him entirely. Until it’s dark, we’ll keep working. Pat, why don’t you show Roman how to help with edible decorations? He’s artistic and has a the sweet tooth of a five-year-old in a candy shop, he’ll be a natural.”

Roman gasped indignantly, a hand artfully splayed on his chest. “I do not act like a five-year old,” he said with a sniff. “I am at least seven, give me some credit.”

As they’d both hoped, Patton smiled weakly and led Roman around the counter. Both Virgil and Roman cared a lot about their gentle friend. Even if Roman had only occasionally met Logan, the scientist clearly made Patton happy.

No one should interfere with Patton being happy.

author’s note: I’d always thought that Logan’s question in Crofter’s The Musical was a joke, but it turns out there actually are such things are real loganberries: Rubus × loganobaccus. I learned something new because of this story, Logan would be so proud! You know. Wherever he is.

Corwan, Patton’s last name, is an old English name that means ‘friend of the heart’

Augustus, Roman’s last name, means regal, great ruler, etc. He’s royalty, we love him

Yes, that is the author’s note you get on this while you wait for the next chapter :)

[traveling-couch-potato]

Puerto Rico Day 9

It’s finally here! HAMILTON DAY!!!! We wanted to do a whole day dedicated to the show but couldn’t fit it all in. We started off with breakfast at La Bombonera in Old San Juan for some Mallorcas (recommendation of Lin-Manuel Miranda himself...via his Twitter). So good. It’s the love child of a donut and croissant if the donut took a more dominant role. It’s sprinkled with powdered sugar and filled with a fried egg, melty swiss, and thin slices of ham.

Puerto Rico is all about those sweet/savory combos and I am here for it!

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The festival wasn’t in full swing yet so we decided to do a bit of a morning walk to the Puerta de San Juan where we entered Paseo del Morro. It’s a gorgeous path along the base of the Castillo San Felipe del Morro right along the water. You get a great view of the giant waves crashing into the rocks on one side and the towering wall structures to the right. 

Leaving through the Puerta de San Juan gate!

The path was full of cats. Literally anywhere you look there’s a cat. There’s feeding stations run by the Save-a-Gato organization which is why all the cats like to gather here.

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Once we finished up the walk we had a lovely chat with another visiting girl (and fellow Hamilton-fan) before we finally regained enough energy to officially enter the grounds of the San Sebastian Street Festival. We started off near the market centers around the Plaza del Quinto Centenario. Tio Danny had a booth set up so we picked up a Maduro (Beef/Plantain Empanadilla) and walked through some of the stalls which featured a ton of local Puerto Rican artists selling everything from painted gourds to pressed flowers to sweets. I’m not much for knick knacks and jewelry but food always calls to me especially if I have no clue what it is. This meant my 2nd purchase of the day was a tiny container of Majarete. It tasted like a blended rice pudding (though it’s apparently made with rice flour) with your typically cinnamon notes but a nice underlying coconut flavor as well. It was extremely viscous so the tiny cup was the perfect size.

The first of many street food snacks courtesy of the San Sebastian Street Festival.

We continued walking until we hit a street lined with Bounty sponsored booths. Angel still hasn’t had a chance to try one of my favorite Puerto Rican foods, Bacalaito, so we had to order one and it was GIGANTIC. This one was more crunchy and flat than my previous one, almost like a fried cracker/pancake crossbreed. But of course I also needed to try something new so a few booths down I pointed at the first item I didn’t know. I ended up with a cup of Sorulittos de Maiz. Basically corn fries. They basically taste like corn meal fries (because that’s what they are). Or corn puffs that were never fully dehydrated. Like every other item here, it was served w/ a side of Mayoketchup. 

Fried foods galore! So good but so bad for you (not that that matters when I’m on vacation!)

Some of the sweets I bought from one of the stalls. They have a ton of lollipops and these coconut/fruit combo bite things (that I clearly don’t know the name of).

We spent a bit more time wandering the festival browsing booths and enjoying the music before we headed out. Of course we needed dessert though so we may a quick trip to Chocobar Cortes so I could get a proper chocolate tasting. I got their Spiced Chocolate (Anise/Cinammon) and one of their Hazelnut. It’s pricey at about $2.50 a pop but it’s worth the occasional indulgence

The day portion of the festival is very family friendly w/ parades (main one was at 5pm on Thursday though you can catch smaller privately organized ones at random unscheduled times), giant head displays, and tons of music.

Tons of live music all around the entire city.

Sad we were gonna miss the parade, but a nice marcher asked us if we want a pic and of course we couldn’t say no.

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After so much food we decided to make the 2 mile trek back to our hotel by foot. On the way we passed by the San Juan capital and decided to take a look around. No line or entrance fee, just a quick security check. The center of the building is gorgeous and although the displays in the building were all in Spanish, it was a nice pitstop.

The center of the building sports this beautifully intricate high ceiling. Pictures absolutely don’t do it justice.

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Once we got back to the hotel, we got ready for our night out to the greatest show in the world: HAMILTON!!! First we had to stop by another restaurant Ricky/Florin recommended to us (along w/ the rest of the internet): Santaella. They do take reservations through Opentable and I would highly recommend it. They place can get very busy depending on your luck. The restaurant itself is gorgeous w/ antique style filament lightbulbs lining the ceilings and a lit tropical plant display window on the back wall. Their food was a bit more American/French w/ a Puerto Rican influence but at this point I was craving a taste of home and welcomed the familiar menu. It is a classier place so no tap, but still water is available at $2.50/person which is more reasonable than other high end restaurants I’ve visited.

Gorgeous restaurant interior. Definitely a slightly dressy place, perfect for a pre-show meal (though service is a bit slow so make sure you have enough time).

We started our meal w/ the Foie Gras Terrine which was served over a fruit jam (I believe guava) and a fresh mini baguette that spouted steam as soon as we snapped it in half. The terrine had a uniform creaminess offset by some roasted pinenuts. The salty and fatty flavors of the foie gras were nicely balanced by the jam too. For our mains my friend got the Veal Cheeks w/ Creole Fricasse and Root Veggie Puree and I got the Marinated Skirt Steak w/ Malanga Shoestring fries. The veal was practically spoonable and the veggie puree had an almost cheesy flavor. Otherwise it was like a very well-made beef stew. The skirt steak was quite tender for such a cheap cut of meat and the marinade was nicely caramelized which brought out a delicious charred sweetness. It was topped w/ a pickled chimichurri that gave my mouth a much needed break cause the meat portion was HUGE. Seriously a delicious meal and I can see why Ricky/Florin would give it the thumbs up

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With our bellies full and our wallets empty, we made the 10 minute walk over to the Luis A. Ferre Theater. Picked up our tickets (which I was freaking out about because the email stated you needed the original purchase card which I forgot), got in line, and got to our seats. Not the best seats since the side overlook obstructed my view slightly but I am infinitely thankful to have been in the room where it happens.

This part is less travel-bloggy and more Hamilton-fanny but this is more or less my diary so who cares. I didn’t think I’d cry too hard. I’ve seen the show 3 times, met Lin, met his family, listened to the soundtrack a million times, I’ve been there done that, but absolutely not, as soon as he walks out I start sobbing. I felt my face scrunch up and tears well up in my eyes as my hero took the stage. The entire crowd cheered and rawred for a solid 2-3 minutes. My voice was still raspy from the cold but I tried anyway. The entire cast is wonderful and I am so ecstatic about seeing them again in San Francisco next month. After the show we booked it to the stagedoor. I’m tagging this post w/ Hamilton so hopefully someone will see this LIN DOES NOT STAGEDOOR. The three Schuyler sisters did though as well as a member of the ensemble. They were all such sweet people and while I hoped to save my $10 bill for Lin to sign, I felt it was appropriate to get it autographed at the last show he’ll ever perform as Hamilton. 

We met some really cool fellow Hamilton fans at the stagedoor (shoutout to my new friend Alicia!) and ended the night with a very interesting conversation with an Usher about the political climate in Puerto Rico among other serious topics. We didn’t end up leaving until past midnight. I’m so fortunate to have been in the crowd to see one of Lin’s last performances.

Tips in case any Hamilton folks finds this post: 1) There are quite a few extra seats. Due to some political stuff, the venue changed and seats were reassigned. Since the new venue is larger, that means there’s a decent number of empty seats.

2) To get the seats just show up at the theater. On our 7:30pm performance night, I met 2 women who got in that started waiting at 4pm. Though they said there were people since 6am.

3) Ticket prices range and it’s easier to get a spot if you’re a single viewer. Also don’t forget the lotto!

4) GOOD LUCK! I hope someone gets to see this and takes a chance at those day of tickets. (Seriously you have a good chance, I met ~10 people this trip that got day of tickets)

[boozedancing]

Juicy bits of barrel char that are FREE with your purchase of a Blackadder Raw Cask expression!

On Thursday, June 7, 2018, the good people of the Jewish Whisky Company once again hosted the “Mother of all Whisky Events”, the NYC Whisky Jewbilee. This would be the seventh time that this event would descend upon Midtown Manhattan, and while the main event began at 7PM and ended at 10PM, as we’ve done in years past, we opted to make this an all day thing, hence the #WhiskyJewbileeDay hashtag.

For this year’s #WhiskyJewbileeDay recap, rather than just talk about all that went down at the main event, we’ve decided to expand our coverage and tell you about all that happened in the hours and minutes leading up to the grand tasting at Studio 450.

Grab your Glencairns and your favorite elixir, Kids! It’s gonna be a boozy ride…

8:30 AM

G-LO: The #WhiskyJewbileeDay pre-train checklist:

Camera? Check

Light jacket? Check

Change of clothes? Check

Toiletries? Check

Daily meds, ibuprofen, and Alka-Seltzer? Check, check, and check.

iPad? Check

Chargers? Check

Extra batteries? Check

Cash? Check

Kids dropped off at school? Check

Looks like I’m ready to go. NYC, here we come!

Limpd: Two bags? Really? Did Mrs. G-LO finally kick him out? I can’t say I didn’t see this coming. I wonder who had today in the “When’s G-LO’s Wife Gonna Kick His Sorry Fat Ass to the Curb?” pool?

AK: Can’t blame G-LO for the two bags thing. I’m an overpacker too. Cuz you just never know.

9:14 AM

G-LO: On the road to Hamilton Station. Why did Limpd pick the 295 entrance off of 561 when there was a perfecty good entrance 3/4 of a mile back near the PATCO station? His way is probably a shorter distance, but my way has less traffic.

Limpd: I find it curious that G-LO requested the Sirius XM Broadway Channel for the drive up to Hamilton. Maybe his musical theater loving wife and eldest Urchin are finally rubbing off on him and he’s finally acquired some taste in music? Somehow I doubt it.

AK: I had him pegged for Yacht Rock. Who knew? Though I think I saw him once sporting a Gerry Rafferty t-shirt while sipping on a Pina Colada.

10:34 AM

G-LO: Amazing how few parking spots there are at this hour. Circling the parking lot made us miss the 9:58. But that’s ok because the nice thing about this being a heavily trafficed route is that there’s always another train. Catching the next one allowed time to pick up a Boston Cream donut. You know, for strength!

12:31 PM

G-LO: That was a fascinating ride to NYC. We actually went backwards at one point due to a disabled train. Oddly enough, it was the 9:58(!), so I guess things have a way of working out after all, though sadly, we had to skip the stop in Metuchen. Now we’re all checked in at the hotel and headed to The Ginger Man for lunch and a drink or two.

Our room has a lovely view of some office workers.

AK:  Is that guy on the 4th floor making Xerox’s of his butt?  That’s so ’90’s.

1:31 PM

G-LO: Lunch at The Ginger Man with Whisky Raj, The Coopered Tot, Malt Imposter Stephen, and Limpd. Had a Founders Green Zebra, a Watermelon Sour. Super delicious with just the right amount of pucker.

This place is great at lunch time. Solid food. Fantastic beer selection. And you can actually have a conversation, hence why it’s THE pre-Jewbilee gathering place.

Limpd: They had Old Engine Oil on draught! I knew there was a reason why I love this bar. Such a good beer.

Old Engine Oil on the left. Founders Green Zebra on the right.

1:32 PM

AK: Bet those pinheads are drinking at Gingerman without me.  Argh.

3:51 PM

G-LO: The One Nation Under Whisky Podcast Recording and Master Class Session has begun. So many familiar faces…

Joshua Hatton and Jason Johnstone-Yellin from Single Cask Nation (naturally!).

Explorers Club members, Justin Fornal and Chad Anderson, aka the guys fom The Great Islay Swim.

Simon Brooking of Laphroaig.

Lew Bryson.

Matt Lurin of Water Of Life.

David Fenkell, good friend of WhiskyCast and all around super guy.

Limpd: “To lose a swimmer would be bad. To lose the whisky would be unacceptable.” I didn’t say that! The guy that wrote the Men’s Journal article about The Great Islay Swim did. I’m not THAT heartless. Though it really would have sucked to lose the whisky.

The OFFICIAL One Nation Under Whisky mic.

Joshua says, “Double pours? Really? If you say so, but when someone gets trashed and falls down the steps…”

“I put my hands upon my hips… And when I dip you dip we dip…”

4:01 PM

G-LO: Started things off with the SCN Pillage Cask (bottles are $500/each with all proceeds going to the Royal National Lifeboat Institute) which has a little bit of whisky from each Islay Distillery. Thick. Oily. Briny. Peaty. Everything you’d expect from a vatted Islay whisky. Good fun! I added a little too much water so I pillaged some whisky (see what I did there?) from an open seat next to me to bring back the fire. That was a damn good move!

Limpd: Tasting the Islay Pillage Cask which was matured in a quarter cask (30 gallons yielding 145 bottles). Apparently, this blend is heavy on the Kilchoman. It’s very leggy and looks like rich honey. The nose is very medicinal with iodine, mercurochrome, and a good bit of peat & pepper. The taste is hot and spicy. Quite the tongue numbing experience. Adding water made it a bit muted, and while less flavorful, it was more approachable.

Someone asked, “How were the contributions from the various distillers selected and how were the whiskies blended?”. Joshua of SCN’s response, “Part by design and part by necessity. We put thought into the whisky whenever we could, to the extent that we were allowed.”

4:09 PM

G-LO: Our second whisky for this tasting was a Single Cask Nation bottling of a  4 Year Old Kilchoman. Licorice. Powdered sugar. Charcoal. Vanilla. Young. Fiery. Richly flavored. Really nice to visit this again (click here for my first impressions of this dram).

Limpd: Round two was a chance to try one of the distilleries that went into the Pillage Cask on its own. The color on this SCN Kilchoman bottling was a bit golden, with a nose that was all peat and burnt rubber (think a smoky rubber glove). The taste was brief sweetness followed by a cinnamon heat and a very pleasant finish. Once you get past that smoky rubber glove encased kick to the head that came courtesy of the nose, this is a very nice dram.

4:17 PM

G-LO: More Kilchoman for round three of this tasting! This time around we tried the Kilchoman 100% Islay from Binny’s of Chicago. From field to bottle, this is 100% Kilchoman, i.e. they grow the barley, they malt the barley, and they ferment and distill the barley on-site. No outsourcing on this one! Lots of vanilla. Burnt sugar sweetness. Not a lot of bite (more of a nibble). Like quickly running your finger through a flickering flame. Long lasting, spicy/sweet finish. 100% Islay was 100% delicious!

Limpd: Do you know how I know that G-LO is a bad, bad man? Because I was actually looking forward to trying dram number three, a farm to glass bottling of Kilchoman. I used to hate the peat until G-LO kept pushing the stuff on me like a corner boy from The Wire pushing WMD on the mean streets of West Baltimore. “It’ll make ya feel good” he’d say. Anyway…

Dram number three looked a lot like dram number two. The nose was sweet with a plethora of heather. The taste was a bit muted for a Kilchoman. Almost soft, but oh so nice. The heat comes in at the backend on this one with a spicy, long & very pleasant finish.

Random things overheard while sampling this whisky…

Justin: Losing the juice would be unacceptable. I said JUICE!

Chad: Captain Angus is the saltiest man alive!

David: How do they know that Captain Angus is the saltiest man alive? Under what scenario did they need to lick the captain?

4:36 PM

G-LO: Port Askaig 9 YO? Is that what they said? Anyway, this is whisky number four. Much darker than the other three. Very winey on the nose with loads of dark fruit and dark sugars. Super hot and spicy at the start. All that dark fruit and sugar plus cinnamon, chilis, and a bit of bitterness. Long fiery finish. Tartness in the aftertaste. Damn good, but perhaps a bit too dry in the aftertaste, i.e. this isn’t something that I would drink often.

Limpd: A Port Askaig for whisky number four. The color is good bit darker than anything we’ve tasted so far. The nose is leathery, oily, and honeyey. Tastes like it noses. A little oily with nice sweetness, then a bit more leather, wood and tobacco. Very interesting as a component to a blend, but maybe not fully finished.

4:42 PM

G-LO: Simon Brooking, Global Brand Ambassador for Laphroaig and All-Around Super Guy, brought a Bowmore Dorus Mor Batch III and the Laphroaig Cairdeas 2018 for us to taste.

The Bowmore was very very sweet with spiced honey, oodles of fruit, licorice, and vanilla. As Speers would say, “This tastes round…”. Nicely balanced and unusually sweet for an Islay. Honey barbecue and mesquite perhaps? Yummy yummy in my tummy for sure!

Cairdeas 2018 was very light on the nose or maybe I wore out my olfactory with this peaty tasting. The flavor is lightly sweet with vanilla, powdered sugar, peach jam, anise, cracked pepper, and some orange zest. Cairdeas is always yummy. This is no exception. A fine way to end this delightful class!

Limpd: Whisky number five and number six are surprises from Mr. Brooking of Laphroaig.

Number five is the Bowmore 10 Dorus Mor Batch III (aka Tempest Batch 5). The color is light yellow with a nose that brings iodine, vanilla, and honeysuckle. The taste is a bit woody with a nice sweetness (bananas?). Really, really good. David, who was seated next to me, remarked that some of the earlier Tempests were better. If that’s the case, I’d would have liked the opportunity to try them.

Whisky number six is the Laphroaig Cairdeas 2018 which is first fill bourbon casks and then Fino Sherry casks. The color is clover honey with a very muted nose that brings some menthol & vapors. The taste is sweet, oily, and peppery, almost in that order, along with some nuts and sea salt. After that, there’s a good bit of heat which leads to a rather long finish.

Jason says, “I was going for creepy. Did I nail it?”

4:59 PM

G-LO: Uh-oh! Jason and Joshua are throwing “Ok ok! You lads can leave now as we have to set up for the main event!” dagger eyes at us. I guess the Masterclass/One Nation Under Whisky Podcast session is over! Definitely good fun with oodles of booze, yucks, and tales of Islay Swimming by the guys that swam those frigid waters last summer. Not a bad mid afternoon pre-game before the Big Game!

Limpd: G-LO spoke very highly of last year’s Masterclass session, so I’m super pleased that I was able to make it to this year’s session. For the record, the guys that did The Great Islay Swim are clearly out of their minds. There isn’t enough whisky in the world to convince me to do something like that. Then again… And, then, then again… all of the titanium in me might begin to dissolve in the sea water, so, I might be best that I remain content with staying on dry land with the whisky that I already have.

5:40 PM

G-LO: Time for more pre-gaming. This time at American Whiskey on 30th Street. Limpd, David and I ordered fried sweetbreads with spiced honey, fries, and deviled eggs to share. I had a Bells Oberon to wash it all down. The Lads didn’t care for the sweetbreads. More for me I guess! Did we need this stop? Probably not. But we had time to kill and I really like this place. So we’re here and enjoying every minute of it.

Limpd: Sweetbreads? Who the hell orders sweetbreads as a pre-game snack prior to a whisky event? Some things just aren’t supposed to be eaten. Sure, YOU can call if offal. I’ll just call it awful. Just so you know, offal is defined as “the waste or by-product of a process: such as trimmings (such as the belly, head, and shoulders) of a hide, the by-products of milling (as of wheat or barley) used especially for stock feeds, the viscera and trimmings of a butchered animal removed in preparing it for market or for consumption, and/or rubbish” by the good people at Merriam-Webster. Need I say more?

6:11 PM

AK: I’ve been semi-off the grid for 24 hours but the ghost has returned, and now venturing south along the calm Hudson River down the winding West Side Highway from… Riverdale, NY.  This is not a long lost chapter from The Lord of the Rings.  Just life. The middle offspring has Orientation at Manhattan College up yonder near Yonkers. But she let me get away to join the Home Office Fellowship of the Drams (and Damned too!) at Jewbilee where there will be no Dwarves, Orcs, or Hobbits, if you believe the ancient scrolls. The Uber driver is giving me a nice tour and telling me about how NYC loves President Trump and don’t say otherwise to his wife or, “she kill you”.

6:18 PM

G-LO: Waiting for The West Coast Office (aka The WCO aka AK) outside the event. There’s quite a line forming. He better show up soon. We’re thirsty for more!

6:22 PM

AK: Stepped out of my carriage at the event to meet up with G-LO and Limpd, but alas, no G-LO or Limpd. Where the hell are they?! Is this the right place? The right night? The right chapter in the sequel? Luckily I meet The Malt Imposters in the lobby, then moments later, Susannah Skiver-Barton (aka SSB) arrives and she is giddy as ever. Familiar faces! Good times have started. Minus G-LO and Limpd.

6:25 PM

G-LO: Just got a text from AK. Turns out he’s waiting in the lobby with Malt Impostors Stephen, Bill, and John.

6:38 PM to 6:59 PM

G-LO: Looks like Joshua is gonna let us in to get a quick sneak preview before the crowds show up. We’re going in! Wait. What happened to David? He was right here. Oh well. We’ll catch up with him inside at some point. I have photos to take!

6:42 PM

AK: The slowest elevator in New York City arrives at our destination: 12th floor.  Ladies undergarments, housewares, umbrellas… whoops, wrong cartoon. Whisky Jewbilee! And who do we see first? Guess. C’mon, guess. Bigger than a breadbox. No, not a thing but you’re warmer? Oh, heck. I’ll just tell you. G-LO, Limpd, and some guy I don’t know! You could’ve guessed if you tried a little harder. Slacker!

7:00 to 10:00 PM

G-LO: As is usually the case when the NYC Whisky Jewbilee rolls around, the stars aligned and all of the pieces that make this event so special fit together perfectly.

We’ve discussed past Jewbilee events ad nauseum, so rather than bore you with a bunch of words (many of which we make up), we’ll just show you what we saw throughout what would prove to be yet another great whisky event…

A fantastic variety of whisky and other spirits:

Brand representatives that know a thing or two about the product that they’re pouring to the well informed Whisky Jewbilee attendees (talking bobbleheaded pourers are a very big no-no at this event!):

Glorious views of Manhattan:

Fantastic Kosher barbecue prepared by the one and only, Ari White of The Wandering Que:

Those seriously well-informed Jewbilee attendees that have zero tolerance for talking bobbleheaded pourers that have no clue what they’re serving:

And last, but certainly not least, many of our dear #WhiskyFabric friends:

Whisky Raj of Glass Revolution Imports.http://www.glassrev.com

On the left, @WhiskyAnorach, on the right, Susannah SB, and in the background, The West Coast Office.

Malt Impostor Stephen. That member number is NOT a coincidence, it’s an OMEN.

Mark Gillespie of WhiskyCast, the hardest working man in Whisky Journalism and THE Voice of Whisky.

@WhiskyAnorach and The WCO. For those that don’t know @WhiskyAnorach, she is one hell of an artist! If Whisky is your thing and are on the lookout for incredibly beautiful artwork that celebrates your passion, pay a visit to her Etsy store at https://www.etsy.com/shop/WhiskyAnorach?ref=search_shop_redirect.

Once again, Whisky Jewbilee proved why this is THE can’t miss whisky event of the year. Joshua and Jason of Single Cask Nation sweat over every detail to make sure that the event goes off without a hitch, and guys like us appreciate their efforts to the Nth degree. Here’s hoping that we can branch out a bit and make it to the Chicago and/or Seattle Jewbilees. Aaron says they’re worth the trip. I don’t doubt him for a second!

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Many thanks to Joshua Hatton and Jason Johnstone-Yellin of the Jewish Whisky Company for the hospitality. We’re already counting down to next year’s event!

Reliving NYC @WhiskyJewbilee Day VII through words + #photography. #Whisky @OneNationWhisky On Thursday, June 7, 2018, the good people of the Jewish Whisky Company once again hosted the "Mother of all Whisky Events", the NYC…