#i am going to get a plug eventually but i can’t afford it right now so i just wear the taper

[hole34]

okay chat how do you feel about the setup

i need more pierc...... i cannot find my safety pin </3

[wistfulwatcher]

Hello I saw your tag on that "im 25 and dying post" please tell us how it got better for you. Im 26, still living with parents, currently having a fight with my boyfriend, and i still have a year until I get my bachelors. The comparison to everyone younger than me is killing me.

I'm really sorry to hear that you're struggling, but I hope you can take some solace in the fact that that post has a lot of notes and you are absolutely not alone in feeling the way you do! I can certainly try and share my experience, but unfortunately I think the biggest factor is just time (and like, a buttload of self-reflection).

I moved back home after college and worked full time at an administrative job I was doing during school breaks. I majored in psychology and anthropology in college, and was planning to eventually go into forensic psychology, but wasn't interested in going straight into grad school. So I did that administrative job for about a year, and tried to find something that was a bit more stable and at least semi-related to my field. I did end up finding a new job when I was 23 - stable, semi-related to my field (a psych/research background was required), and decent pay (especially as I was still living at home). Exactly what I needed, since I still wasn't ready to start looking into grad school.

I was doing pretty well, until I started getting comfortable at that job, and then I started getting hit with the "I'm not doing enough," and "I need to look into grad school," and "will I ever find a boyfriend?" (friendly reminder that 23-year-old me thought she was straight, yikes), "how will I afford to move out, I have to save my money and do it soon!", "I'm not doing anything but watching TV, I'm wasting my life," "I'm lonely, but I'm too tired to try and make friends," etc., etc.

But it wasn't constant. I'd have a flurry of those questions and fears, and then days where I was just living life and doing my job and taking care of my dogs, without any of that. And I don't think I felt good or particularly comfortable those days, it was more like I just wasn't actively thinking about it, like when you feel "good" after a physical pain goes away and you're just normal.

Eventually, I started thinking about all of these concerns I had, and the fact that it felt like it was URGENT whenever I thought about them. It felt like I needed to get my shit together immediately. I also started to acknowledge that there was this big sense of guilt around those concerns; I was too old to be living at home, I was too old to be single, I was too old not to be starting a career. I felt like I was wasting my life (cue the guilt), and I realized that part of why I felt like I was wasting it was that I felt like I was missing milestones I wouldn't be able to do at a later time because the older I was past "normal" the more humiliating it would be to try (cue the shame and embarrassment, hard).

I also started to doubt that I wanted to go into forensic psychology. More importantly, I started to seriously doubt that I wanted a "career" at all. My job (as I kept that same semi-related to my field one) was absolutely a job, not a career. And I think this was a huge tipping point for me, because a career had always been a given in my life. I'm passionate about what I'm interested in, so it literally just never occurred to me that I would be content with a job. I also started acknowledging that I had some messed up associations about being content with a job meaning that I was lazy (because the only way to be ambitious is with a career and, more damaging, a lack of ambition is fundamentally bad).

Now, I need to clarify that all of the above occurred over the course of years. I was constantly seeing "friends" (i.e., of the facebook variety) go to grad school, start careers, get married, buy homes, etc. And with all of that alongside the entire mess I've outlined in the above paragraphs, it was really, really, tough. It gets hard to find a foothold in better thinking, I believe, when seeing all of these people (some younger) doing things "right" was really just compounding my guilt and shame. (I feel like it's worth mentioning, too, that I was always "an individual" growing up, march-to-the-beat-of-my-own-drummer, yada yada. I feel like that's worth pointing out for others who may be in the same boat, because I think it can lead to another layer of shame in comparing yourself to those around you - especially if it's a big part of your identity that you DON'T do that, because I think it's inevitable as you get older, and you're looking to reach these milestones that prove you're an adult.)

So, here I am, acknowledging that I feel guilt and shame about what I'm not doing. And suddenly I ask myself my first really important question: Do I want a career? The question hot on its heels is: Do I want to go to grad school? Honestly, my answer is no. There is nothing in me that's excited by the prospect. But what, does that mean I'm just going to work my job for the rest of my life? How is giving up going to make me feel better about Not Doing Enough?

As I'm opening this door (remember, years), three things happen: 1) I realize I'm gay, 2) I watch Dirty 30, 3) I start playing D&D.

First, realizing I'm gay. Woohoo! Not only was this exciting because girls are amazing, but it made me seriously look at myself. Realizing I had spent 25 years assuming one thing about myself that turned out to be completely wrong made me question everything for a while. I started to ask myself, "Do I really like this?" more often, which seems like a really obvious question, but I'm not convinced that it's one people ask themselves consciously all that often. But once I did, I realized how freeing it was to answer, "No," and move on to something I did like.

Second, I watched Dirty 30, the Grace Helbig/Mamrie Hart/Hannah Hart movie. It feels dramatic to say that it changed my life, but the older I get the more I honestly think it did. Mamrie Hart's character is a dental hygienist who is freaking out about turning 30 and feeling very much like that text post I reblogged. But (spoilers), at the end of the movie, she decides that she loves her job (job, not career!) because it's comfortable and she has fun at work, and that it makes her happy. She has other things going on, but the idea that a character in a film is content with her job and choosing to "settle" into her life as-is and she's genuinely happy about it? I honestly can't think of a single other time I've seen that happen on-screen. I still think about that ending very often. And after seeing it, I started to ask myself another question regularly: "Am I happy?" Again, this feels pretty obvious, but I think there is something incredibly empowering about making sure you are happy on a regular basis, instead of just assuming that you're fine until something hurts.

Third, I started playing D&D. This is not a plug for D&D! (Well, maybe a little.) One thing that happened to me when I started to get into the urgent-guilt-shame-confusion mess of my mid-20s was that I got very much into a routine of go to work, come home, sleep, go to work, come home, sleep, be totally brain-dead on the weekend, repeat. I found it very difficult to feel creative because I was just wiped, and as all of my creative outlets (gifs, fanfic) are self-motivated, it was really easy to brush them off. I ended up starting Critical Role (this is also not a plug for CR! well, maybe), and I wanted to give D&D a try myself. (I was VERY lucky - my best friend happened to be listening to the Adventure Zone at the same time I started CR, and she wanted to try to run a game. The stars truly aligned!)

I started playing, then DMing, and found that it was a great fit for my interests. I used to be a theatre kid, and I was getting to act again (something I didn't realize I was missing). I was getting to build and flesh out characters, which is what I love the most about writing fanfic. I was also discovering that I was stretching myself - world building and plot had never been my strong suit, but as a DM it became the majority of my creative effort. It gave me soft deadlines with people I didn't want to let down, and it made me truly social again for the first time since college. Essentially, it was filling in all of the gaps of what I felt lacking in my life. This isn't a D&D plug because it wasn't D&D specifically, but rather a hobby that satisfied what was missing in my life. For example, I didn't realize how isolated I was before D&D until I had regular interactions with friends, and that isolation absolutely made the urgent-guilt-shame-confusion worse.

D&D gave me that final push to realize that I was OK with having a job and being passionate about hobbies instead of trying to fit myself into a career, because I was getting out of that hobby what I had been convinced I would get out of a career. I started to really value that I could punch out and go have fun doing exactly what I wanted to do. (It feels so obvious as I type this, but it took me a long time to get here! Sometimes it really is that simple!)

The above is specific to my job vs. career struggle which may not be in the mix of things you're struggling with. But what I do think is universal/can be your take away, is that sometimes you just have to actively choose to let go of the pressure to be doing things. Which, I know, sounds so much easier than it is (and part of why I think it just takes time/is part of growing older). But I think it's something that can be worked at over time, by checking in with yourself about what you feel, why you feel it, and what you need to make yourself feel better in the present.

It's been 6 years since I started that semi-related job, and I'm still there. I still live with my mom. I'm still single. My circumstances have not changed since 24, but honestly? I'm OK. When I check in with myself about it, I do enjoy living with my mom and our dogs (even though I'm 30 and "real" adults move out). I am happy more often than I'm not (much more, actually!). I have a job that allows me to be done after 8 hours, and I have hobbies I look forward to doing each night (and the energy to do them, most of the time). My weekends are free to play D&D with my friends and laugh until I cry. That is what I've worked out as my definition of what I want life to be right now. You'll notice it includes none of the "milestones" that those younger than me have hit.

As I noted on that text post tag, I still struggle with this. I definitely have days where I think, I'm a mess, I'm not DOING anything. It's hard. But time does help, those days become fewer and farther between.

I know that was probably a hundred times longer than you wanted it to be, but I did want to illustrate just how much of a process it is. It takes time. My summary advice is to check in with yourself often, be honest about what you want and what you need, do not let anyone else define where you "should" be. And if you aren't living life how you want to be, identify what you can do (however small) to make yourself feel like you're getting closer.

[hongism]

mists of celeste ➻ thirteen

➻ pairing: ??? x fem reader ➻ genre: space au, pirate au, space pirate!ateez, angst, eventual smut ➻ Word Count: 3.9k ➻ Rating: M ➻ Warnings: language, violence, guns and weaponry, blood, future warnings tba ➻ summary: Sneaking aboard the ship of a renowned space pirate may not have been the best idea, but you’ll have to make do with what fate has handed to you

⇐ previous | next ⇒

mists of celeste act two ➻ part three

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Even though you’re wearing shoes, the stairs somehow feel cold under your feet as you walk down to the lobby of the hotel. You are almost free, steps away from the door that will get you out of this mess. You shouldn’t have stayed as long as you did; Daichi would tear into you if he knew, and you’re well aware that he would be right to do so. You had a lapse of judgment, a moment of stupidity, and now you will have to pay the price in guilt as you walk further away from where San is sleeping. You wish you could be nonchalant and firm, say that you aren’t bothered in the slightest and this is the easiest thing you’ve ever done. Part of you just wishes that you could be more cruel.

The number of people you’ve killed should’ve done that, it should have hardened you and made you numb to things like this. Yet here you are struggling to keep it together because you don’t think you really want to walk away like this.

Your feet hit the last step, and you freeze in place, eyes wide as you look across the lobby towards the bar. You weren’t expecting to see the platinum-haired captain sitting upon one of the bar stools, and you certainly couldn’t think of a worse time to happen across him like this. Yet there he sits, back towards you with a clear glass in hand and elbows propped on the counter. Seeing him reminds you of the two men you passed in the streets earlier, the main reason you got separated from San in the first place.

“No, but a newly formed bandit crew is on their way to ambush him later in the night. Around one in the morning, according to my sources.”

He’s back sooner than he said he would be, but he is in one piece, which could be a sign that the ambush didn’t work. Still, you debate going over to where he’s sitting. It lowers your chances of leaving but your gut is begging you to go over to him.

You end up following your gut in the end, walking over to where Hongjoong is sitting with dragging feet. He glances back at you when you approach. You stop in your tracks, scared to go any further, but the captain tilts his head towards the bar counter.

“Care for a drink? Or are you in a hurry to leave?”

You tilt your head to the side upon hearing Hongjoong’s question.

“How did you know I was planning to leave?”

“It was obvious,” Hongjoong says through a sigh. “Frankly, I knew before I even put you on the mission.”

“Why did you put me on it then?”

Rather than answering right away, Hongjoong motions towards the empty stool beside him. You take the hint and step around the chair to sit down next to him.

“Drink?” Hongjoong asks once you sit down.

“J-Just whiskey on the rocks,” you stammer. The bartender nods and moves away to get the drink. Hongjoong looks back at you, eyes narrowed and searching yours with an unreadable emotion.

“I wanted you to come so that I could see what you would do. I was curious, to put it simply. You’re leaving later than I thought you would in all honesty. When your line went dead on the comms, I assumed that you had crushed it and decided to leave then.”

“Are you… are you disappointed in my decision?” You ask the question with great hesitance. Part of you would rather not hear an answer at all, even though Hongjoong’s opinion shouldn’t matter to you in the slightest. The captain laughs a bit. He watches the bartender carefully as the man brings you your drink, sliding it across the wood counter. You don’t touch it right away, however, still waiting for Hongjoong’s answer.

“Why do I need to be disappointed? You have no obligations to me or my crew. I don’t force anyone to stay on my crew if they don’t want to.”

You aren’t sure how to respond to that. It’s better than hearing that he is disappointed in you, but you hate how open-ended his response is. It only makes you feel worse about your decision.

“The lead… was it a dead one?” You shift the subject, closing your fingers around the chilled glass before you.

“No, but my client is a dead one.”

“What happened?”

“There was an ambush and my client was shot before telling me everything he knew.” Hongjoong shrugs as though it’s the most normal explanation in the universe. He takes a long drag from his own drink and throws the alcohol back with ease.

“But you got away uninjured?”

“Of course I did. Those that ambushed me paid their dues for what they did.” You sip at your drink nervously upon hearing his explanation. You somehow keep forgetting the reputation of the man you’re dealing with, the body count he carries with him, and how dangerous he actually is. A small grin plays at his lips. “I got enough information to move onto the next lead though. And I have three more leads after that. The trail isn’t dead yet.”

“Why so much effort? All for Sirens? What’s the point?” You can’t keep yourself from releasing the string of questions. Your curiosity gets the better of you more often than not, and now is no exception. One of Hongjoong’s brows shoots up at your curiosity as though he wasn’t expecting you to ask him that.

“What do you know about Sirens, Miss L/N?”

“Someone near you is a dangerous threat, one that you’ve never encountered before. You must be careful. Guard yourself wisely.”

Your gaze hardens on Hongjoong, Daichi’s words of warning resounding in your head. “Not much.”

“Well, there are five Sirens left in the universe according to rumors. Legend has it that each one bears special markings, insignias of royalty and status. Each Siren bears a special title, a moniker assigned to them at birth in place of a real name, something akin to a status symbol like their markings. They’re a unique and dying breed of people primarily due to the fact that pirates and the military capture Sirens. They’re kept as slaves, used as objects to do their master’s bidding, or used as a source of energy and power. The military uses Sirens as siphons for weaponry, which you’ve surely heard from your time in the military. The way they do it is by plugging a tube between the Siren’s shoulder blades. It’s apparently the sweet spot for drawing out the most power. Powers vary from Siren to Siren, and there are no absolute certainties about the extent of a Siren’s power. Some have been noted to read minds or emotions, but that seems to be a rare genetic mutation in them. Most have the ability to alter the density of objects and bodies, which is why Sirens are so valuable to pirates and thieves. Easily morph through objects, slip into places unnoticed, kill with no weapons except their hands. But that’s all pointless information in the long run. I don’t care about their powers or abilities or what you can siphon out of them.”

“W-What do you care about then?”

“It is said that five Sirens together can unlock one of the universe’s most secret and valuable treasures, although no man has ever laid eyes on it or lived to tell anyone where the treasure might me. I want it for myself. I want to find it and be the person who lives to tell the tale.”

“Why?” You press further as you take sip after sip of your drink.

“If I do that then I’ll live forever. Maybe not physically but I’ll forever be known as the finder of the treasure.”

“Do you care about the treasure or just the aspect of finding it?”

Hongjoong purses his lips, smirk falling away as he moves, and he looks up at the ceiling. “It’s hard to desire a treasure that you don’t know.”

“It’s also hard to pursue a legend that may or may not be true,” you counter. Hongjoong sounds genuine enough but you don’t trust his smile as he speaks. It’s more than just living forever, and it’s more than being the person who finds the supposed treasure. He chuckles at little at your words and looks back down at his drink.

“You have a point. I don’t care though. It’s my goal in life, and I’ll stop at nothing to find that treasure.”

“There has to be more to it than that,” you argue again. It just doesn’t sit right with you. Your curiosity is going to get the better of you, and you know that all too well. “There’s no way that it’s as simple as that.”

“You’re smart, I’ll give you that.” Hongjoong thumbs at the rim of his glass before glancing over at you. “I can’t tell you. If I am going to share that with you, you have to remain on the crew. I have to be able to trust you with the information. I don’t tell anyone my reasons for finding Sirens. So I don’t have to tell you.” A sigh leaves your lips.

“Fair enough,” you murmur before downing the rest of your drink. “Another, please.” The bartender takes your now empty glass.

“One more drink before you leave then?” Hongjoong inquires.

“I have to go,” you say even though it’s not what Hongjoong asked. The question lingered in his words, there enough for you to pick up on it.

“Why? Unless you plan to keep it to yourself.”

“I can’t afford to stay. Besides, I never planned to stay this long.”

Hongjoong nods a few times then passes his glass to the bartender when the man returns with your new drink.

“A half glass, if you would.” Hongjoong leans back in his seat. “I didn’t offer you a place on the crew lightly. It wasn’t just to make you feel good about yourself or needed. I truly see a place for you on the crew, one that has been empty and hollow for a long while.”

“Why don’t you just recruit people from Echidna then? Replace me.”

“I have done that in the past. Many a time. The largest my crew ever got was around seventy-four crewmates. Fifty percent left after my first announcement that I was hunting down Sirens. Half of the remaining crew left after the first year. Once we dwindled down to thirteen, things stabilized for a time. We maintained that number for quite some time. When shit hit the fan, it happened fast. One by one we slowly reached eight crew members and it’s kept since then.” You try to hide your surprise, but your jaw falls open slightly upon hearing Hongjoong’s explanation.

“You could have forced them to stay. Kept the numbers, had more people.”

Hongjoong releases another dry laugh. “And what? Is it better to have a loyal few or the disloyal many? I prefer the few. Why risk having a crew full of people you can’t trust? It’s pointless. Trust is what relationships are built upon. Trust is where it begins.”

You hesitate to mull over his words, toying with the ice in your glass blankly for a few moments.

San… he opened up to me. Trusted me. He was so quick to do so. As though there wasn’t a doubt in his mind about what my intentions were.

“Did you know that San’s former crew was here?” You ask all of a sudden. Hongjoong’s eyes widen as he searches your expression for answers.

“Well, that’s a surprise. I didn’t expect San to open up so quickly with you.”

“Because he was hurting,” you hiss in response, fingers curling into a tight fist again the counter.

“What happened?” The lightness leaves Hongjoong’s tone, and he becomes serious again in the blink of an eye.

“I was attacked and dragged into an alley by a Berserker. When San came to help me, he recognized the woman from his old crew.”

“Was it Taskmaster Cara?”

You nod hastily in response to Hongjoong’s question. A string of curses leaves his lips, and now he’s the one to clench a fist against the wood.

“Did you know or not?”

“I knew they were here because this is where their base is. I had no clue that you would get attacked by Cara of all people. That’s was never the goal.”

“The goal?” Your tone turns incredulous. Hongjoong refuses to look at your enraged expression; instead, he thumbs at his glass with little interest.

“I wasn’t planning on telling you. Since you’re leaving anyway, I’ll just tell you. The goal was to have you and San go into the city. After buying the supplies, San was supposed to pull away and get separated from you. Act like he wasn’t himself or wasn’t okay. It was meant to be a test to see whether you would stay or go. Since I already thought you were going to leave, I wanted to test your loyalties to new people and see how genuine you were. However, you were just supposed to get separated. There were never any plans of attack or ambush or anything like that. Just to see if you would take the opportunity to leave when you were alone, even after San and Seonghwa both told you not to separate.”

“I wouldn’t have just left him like that,” you argue. Hongjoong’s assumptions about you are teetering on offensive, and you can’t help but feel hurt by his words.

“Yet you are now,” he counters. You jerk your head back towards the counter when he meets your eyes. “Am I wrong?”

“Be quiet.”

“I asked if I was wrong. What did San tell you, Y/N?”

“He told me everything,” you spit out.

“You are leaving him then. He opened up to you, put everything out there for you, told you the parts of him that he hates more than anything. He put his heart in your hands. And you still want to walk away after that? Do you realize what that would do to him? Wake up to an empty bed? Never see you again? That’s not just breaking trust. It’s hurting him.” Hongjoong pauses to reach down, and a moment later he pulls his pistol up. You straighten your back automatically, eyeing his movements as he sets the gun down on the bar counter. “Get out of that chair with any intention to leave, and I’ll put a bullet in you. I won’t let you hurt him like that.”

“How would he feel about you killing me then?” You ask, trying to conceal the sudden surge of fear that courses through your system upon hearing Hongjoong’s threat. “How is that any better than me leaving?”

“Because San won’t know the difference. I’ll get rid of your body and the witnesses if I have to. I refuse to let you waltz in and make things worse for San by leaving. If you were going to leave, you should’ve done it before he opened up to you.”

“Stop.”

“Why should I? I’m only making you aware of the issue. San is my crewmate, someone I chose for my crew myself, my brother in arms. It’s my responsibility as a captain to look after my members, and I will do whatever it takes to do just that. If you try to walk out that door, then you are an obstacle and I will take you down.”

“It’s not as though I’m leaving easily. It hurts and I feel guilty about it. San has saved my life twice now and for what? For me to get him to open up about his past trauma then leave? I know it’s shitty and a fucking awful move. But I have to go. There’s no way around it. I wasn’t supposed to stay this long anyway, so maybe it would be easier for you to shoot me. Save me the guilt of leaving.”

“Then you deserve to live with the guilt. If you’d be so selfish and heartless, then it’s what you’ve earned.”

“He told me that he felt the need to protect me. He felt guilty because I was hurt by someone he knew and for not being there sooner. For not noticing I was gone sooner. He said he doesn’t want it to happen again. The last time someone said that to me, they were murdered for crimes that were not their own. They died for me. You can’t blame me for being traumatized.”

Hongjoong’s gaze hardens on you. His eyes are filled with contempt and anger, and for a second, you think he really might shoot you where you’re sitting now.

“You’re choosing the easy way out then. Running away from your problems rather than facing them. There is no way of knowing whether the future will be a repeat of the past. You can only be sure of the present and whatever happens is either a choice of your own or of fate. It was fate that gave me The Horizon. But it was choice that brought me to where I am now. It was choice that landed you in your current predicament, but I know that it was fate that put you in my path. You can walk away from fate and choose uncertainty. Or you can walk back upstairs and let fate decide the rest.”

“Why do you think it’s a good idea to threaten me into staying?” You hiss in response. Your grip on your glass tightens. “What happened to giving your crewmates a choice?”

“I gave you a choice. I’ve changed my mind after all, and I want you to live with the guilt of your actions. That’s worse than death for certain.” Hongjoong reaches forward and grabs his pistol again, pushing it back into its holster. “You are free to make your choice whenever. I’ll know what you chose in the morning.”

Hongjoong pushes his stool back, the wood grating against the floor and creating an unpleasant sound. He pulls away from the counter and moves for the stairs. You turn to watch him go out of sheer curiosity. He pauses at the base of the stairs. Dark eyes find yours again.

“I’m not asking you to respect me. I am asking you to respect my crew, San in particular. It’s as simple as that, Y/N. I hope you make the right choice.”

He disappears up the stairs, floorboards creaking under his movements, and you find yourself suddenly alone at the bar counter. It’s not a pleasant feeling that you’re left with, and the alcohol does little to ease your concerns. You wish you could drink it away, but at the end of the day, you are either staying or going.

You could leave and forget any of this ever happened. Not think about Hongjoong or Wooyoung or Seonghwa or San ever again. Try to forget it all, forget the ones back on the ship, forget everything about your stay. Just focus on handing in the papers and disappearing again. Perhaps you could finally pay for your own crimes in efforts to gain forgiveness. You aren’t sure that’s what you truly want though. The biggest thing stopping you is San. How he might react if you leave. Would he be angry at you? Upset? Hurt maybe? All of the above? You don’t want to see hurt on his face because of your actions.

What’s more important in the end? You’ve been running for so long that part of you wants to be free from it. And yet…

You push your stool back and stand up. There will be other opportunities to turn in the papers. You’ll have another chance. This isn’t your only one, and you’re confident that you can have another shot at freedom. But this isn’t an opportunity. This is something else, and you can’t just walk out now. You return to the foot of the stairs, climbing them slowly and carefully. They creak a bit under your feet, especially as you reach the top. Your hand hesitates on the handle of the door, and you glance back down the stairs. It’s a quick debate: whether you should just take off running or enter the room. You twist the knob and step inside, slipping off your shoes again when you close the door.

The sheets are cold when you slip under them. San doesn’t seem to have moved at all, eyes still pressed shut. You settle against the mattress facing him and let your gaze trail over his features as you continue to think about your decision.

“I thought you left for good,” San says all of a sudden. His eyes crack open and meet yours through the darkness.

“No… I didn’t,” you whisper back. “I couldn’t go yet.”

San releases a small laugh.

“Yet,” he echoes. He stretches a hand out, catching yours with his own, and you flinch under the sudden touch. He pulls your hand towards his chest. You rest your palm against the place over his heart, barely feeling the steady beat. “I’m okay with ‘yet’ for now.”

Something about his tone compels you to slide forward on the bed, pushing closer to San, and he meets you halfway. Your foreheads collide with a slight smack. You both laugh when you hit each other, then San rests his forehead back against yours with a small smile playing at his lips.

“You’re warm.”

“Don’t get the wrong idea,” you huff as San drapes an arm over your side.

“Thank you.”

“Get so–”

“Y/N. Thank you. For listening and… and for coming back.”

“I won’t leave this time,” you mutter. You can feel heat radiating from San’s cheeks even though you can’t see the flush to his skin.

“I’ll hold you all night to make sure you don’t,” San whispers back. Hot breath fans over your lips. You aren’t sure what comes over you but you lift the hand resting against San’s chest to trace over the outline of his lips with two fingers. He smiles into the touch.

“I’m scared to let you in,” you admit, bring your gaze back up to San’s eyes. He’s looking back at you with a gentleness in his eyes that catches you off-guard.

“You don’t have to let me in yet. Just try to trust me.”

“Okay… okay. I can do that.”

“Then that’s more than enough.”

San leans his head back against the pillow but you take hold of his chin and pull him back to your face once more. It’s prompt and chaste, slightly awkward too, but you slot your lips against his in a rush. San inhales sharply at the sudden pressure. He melts into the soft kiss, pushing back with equal gentleness. He pulls away too soon for your liking, but the smile that resides on his lips as he falls asleep makes your decision to stay more than worth it.

✧✧✧ a/n: it's that time of day on a Tuesday, here we are at your regularly scheduled programming yEEHAW! info dump chapter but i hope you guys enjoy and like this part even if it's not super action packed after the last chapter soijfdoijfoi i love you guys thank you so much for the continued support and love for this story it means the world

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This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.

[mrvdocks]

Plus One

Steve Harrington has had an eventful life. He's slain monsters, saved the princess, and earned his dignity back. But that was in the past.

It's seven years later, 1994, and he's still finding himself. His friends have been up to other things though, getting married and inviting him to those weddings.

It's the last thing he wants to do, but his roommate decides to make him go through all four weddings in hopes of finding someone.

And so it begins.

(chapter one)

It’s been seven years since the gang has had any incident or warnings or dreams about monsters. Things have died down in Hawkins. So much so that it’s starting to feel normal again, or whatever normal is for everyone else. 

Steve feels like an outsider, though. Everyone he knows is getting married. Nancy and Jonathan, Robin and Kali, Hopper and Joyce, hell even Tommy and Carol tied the knot in Vegas. All of these, weddings he’s been invited to. Except for the latter, they sent him a postcard with a phallic drawing in the back. 

He was used to moping, even if Robin had threatened to make him listen to disco to cheer him up. You thought it was funny though, it showed he had some emotion after all. 

It’s not that he couldn’t continue his womanizing streak. It’s just that after feeling that connection with Nancy, he didn’t want to see different people in the morning. He wanted the one. 

It didn’t help that his parents would call all the time now. Asking him things like if he’d found a girlfriend yet, or a steady job, or be constantly reminded that the clock was ticking. He was painfully aware. 

He’d just come back from his stint as a bartender in some dingy club in lower Manhattan to the somewhat comfortable apartment he shared with you and Robin. Well, that is, until Robin decided to move in with Kali. Robin had taking a liking to you, you weren’t as girly and deluded as the other applicants they were going through and you certainly weren’t as bothersome.

Envelopes and bills spilled on the black mat you’d picked out, warding off visitors or unwanted guests with a foul word written on it. He gathered them, going through them as he opened the door. Nothing but bills and subscriptions.

What a joy to be an adult.

He let the things fall onto the taped up coffee table on its last legs and collapsed onto the faded green couch.

He heard the pitter-patter of your feet running into the living room. “Oh honey, you’re home.”

He snorted. “Haha, funny.” 

“What? No ‘Hey how’s your day?’ or ��Good Morning’?”

“Good Morning.” He mumbled face down.

You smirk, settling onto the arm of the couch. “How bad was it?”

“Oh god, so bad.” He lifts his head up, eyes rolling for dramatic effect. 

“I’ve never had to clean vomit before in my life and now I feel so bad for what you have to go through.”

“Ugh, ok there’s a difference between cleaning up after drunk assholes and poorly malnutrition-ed dogs.”

He groans, stuffing his face back down. “My back is killing me.” 

“Oh, I’m sorry Grandpa, do you want me to rub your back or maybe your feet?”

His head lifts up again to narrow his eyes at you. “You’re only four years younger than me, this is your future! But also, yes please.”

You roll your eyes in amusement. “I’m never going to be like this at your age.”

He chortles. “Oh yeah?”

“Mhmm. Unlike you, I have a life. I’m active!”

“I’m not sure sitting with a pack of popcorn and watching sci-fi tv counts as being active.” 

You gasp and rip the pillow from underneath him to hit him with it. “You’re the one who cried when Scully and Mulder -”

“Ahhhhh! No! Shut up!” He plugs his ears with his fingers. 

You erupt with laughter, falling off of the arm and onto the floor. 

You share a fun moment together before he groans again about his back. You think to resolve this with the expensive purchase you’ve been hiding. You rush into your room, if it could even be called that, grab the basin, fill it with water and back into the living room. 

“Here, kick off your shoes.” You kneel down, turning on the machine and placing his feet into the water. 

His tone changes the moment he feels the warmer kick in. He throws his head back in content and comfort. You take his shoes and place them near the doorway. 

“Did you see this?” You ask, the gold of a letter catching your eye. He hums in response.

You use the keys to rip it open, the hard cardstock nearly giving you a paper cut. You’re greeted with a beautiful invitation, all black with gold lettering and cursive writing. 

“You are cordially invited to share in a celebration of the union of Dustin Henderson and Suzie Smith.”

Steve’s eyes fly open as he turns his head to face you. “Let me see that.”

You pass it to him, getting comfortable in the little space and trying to remember where you’ve heard their names before.

Steve chuckles to himself, scanning the whole invite. “He did it. He really did it.”

“Dustin...is he the one you’re always talking about?”

“Yeah,” he smiles to himself, thinking of how much time has passed. “Kind of like the little brother I never had. Wow, I haven’t seen him since he was 15.”

You’ve never seen Steve so happy before. He doesn’t talk much about his life back in Hawkins and neither did Robin. You could only assume it was as boring like your own hometown and thus the reason for their leave. 

“Isn’t this the fourth wedding you’ve been invited to?” 

He sighs. “Yeah but, I don’t even know if I’m going to any of them.”

Your brows furrow. “Why not? You said it yourself this is like your brother.”

He lets the invitation fall onto his lap. “Because - I, I’m not as interesting as they probably think I am.”

“Pfft. So what? You want to entertain some people to spruce your ego or something?” 

“No,” he crosses his arms. “It’s just everyone’s getting married, my cousin just had like his third kid, oh and this guy at the bar was showing me his grandkid and crying like crazy.”

“So? Everyone’s different, things don’t always have to match up. You don’t have anything to prove.”

He squeezes his eyes closed and runs his hand through his hair.

“How about this? We go and we just try and set you up with someone. Doesn’t matter who. It’s four weddings, there’s bound to be some marriage material in there.”

He side smiles, contemplating. “Alright.”

“Good,” you clap. “You need this. Plus there’s something wrong with the plumbing and we have to leave while they fix it.”

He groans. 

January 13, 1994

Nancy & Jonathan’s Wedding

Portland, Maine

One Day Before

The airplane ride wasn’t too bad. Actually no, that was a lie. There was mostly turbulence and you spent most of the four hours freaking out and thinking that there was something going horribly wrong. Steve wouldn’t stop laughing at you though, faking that your seatbelt had come undone too many times. You shut him out by grabbing a blanket and trying to lull yourself to sleep without thinking about how you were suspended in mid-air on a death trap. 

It didn’t work as well as you’d hoped, being able to hear Steve’s poor flirting with the flight attendant. You rolled your eyes, but you had to give him some credit. He was starting early.

Steve shook you awake shortly after touchdown, poking at you. “Alright good, you’re in one piece. Can’t afford to claim you as extra baggage.” 

You faked a laugh and pinched him, earning a yelp from him and eyes from other passengers.

One confusing cab ride later, you both had arrived at a pleasant looking hotel. It looked over the ocean, which smelled and felt so incredible. It was cloudy now, the sun hiding away and making the hotel the sole focus of your attention. 

You struggled to get your suitcase up the stairs, eventually giving up and letting Steve carry it while you carried the other bags. 

“Geez, what’s in here, rocks?”

“Hey! I didn’t know what to bring exactly so I brought a little of everything.”

“You look like you packed for two weeks, we’re only going to be here for two days!”

“I work hard to look good, Steve. Which is less than I can say about this number.” You gestured to his wardrobe consisting of a worn henley, frayed at the end of the sleeves, a denim jacket and brown boots you stole from him from time to time. 

He looks up and down. “I think I look good.” 

You ignore him, continuing up the infernal stairs, mentally making a note to join Robin on her retreats. 

You two are trying to catch your breath at the desk when you meet the attendant. 

“Byers wedding.” You huff out. 

When you’re handed the keys, you steer Steve into an elevator, not even bothering to look at the massive set of stairs even if they were decorated beautifully.

“Hurry.” He whispers, dragging the suitcases. 

“I’m trying! You’re the one who packed all these jackets.” 

“It’s cold, do you want us to freeze?”

“No, but we could’ve done with two!”

You both finally arrive to your room confused. 

“Wait, why did she give you only one key?” Steve asks, hand on his hip like a mother.

“I don’t know, you’re the one that booked it.” You shrugged, sticking the keys in and opening the door.

“I clearly said two people in one roo - I see my mistake.” 

A single king bed stares back at you both, tidied up with a towel teddy bear in the middle of it. 

You glance at Steve, meeting his eyes before glancing back to the room. You both stay silent.

“I’ll take the floor.” You both say in unison.

“No, no, you can take the bed. Since you say you always need your beauty sleep.” He gestures to your face.

You snort. “Me? No, Grandpa, I think you need it more than I do. Wouldn’t want you breaking your back at the wedding and outshining the bride.”

He mimics you in a high pitched voice, prompting you to laugh. 

“Listen we can figure it all out once we get everything unpacked, okay?” You wave him off. 

He shrugs. “Fine by me.”

The tv plays in the background while you brush your teeth. Steve settles in the huge bed, patting down his pillow. 

Once you’re done, you wet your fingers and rush into the room and flick your hand at Steve. You get him right in the face.

“Hey! I’m trying to sleep here.”

“You’re no fun.” 

“Yeah well, we can have as much fun as we want tomor- what’re you doing?”

His train of thought is interrupted by you slipping into the bed. 

“What? You really thought I was going to sleep on the floor?” 

He chuckles nervously. “No.”

It amuses you. “Relax.” 

He slinks back into bed, one arm under his pillow and the other atop his forehead. You grab one of the extra pillows and wrap your arms around it, your right leg climbing on top of it. 

A few minutes pass and the pillow is too uncomfortable and sweaty so you discard it onto the floor somewhere. You huff. 

You glance at Steve who’s snoring lightly.

“Steve.” You whisper. 

Nothing.

“Steve!” You whisper a little louder.

He hums in response. 

“Are you asleep?”

“I was.” He whispers back.

“Can I..hug you?”

That gets his attention. His arm leaves his face, now looking at you through sleepy eyes. 

“What?” 

“Can I hug you? I can’t sleep without the pillow making me sweaty.” 

“Uhh, what about Danny?”

“We broke up. A while ago.”

His mouth drops into an O shape. 

You shake your head, dismissing the thought. “Nevermind.”

Steve hops onto his elbows, “No! No, it’s okay. Really.”

You turn back, trying to see if he’s serious. When that sorry look is apparent, you nod. 

“How do you - oh okay.”

You get close to his right side, swinging your leg over his waist and wrapping your right arm over his chest. He can smell your shampoo. 

“Cuddling doesn’t have to be sexual by the way.” You murmur into his chest.

He almost asks you to explain that but when he hears your soft snoring, he forgets. 

[queerbutstillhere-writes]

Day 5: Quarantine

- You can't come over tomorrow.

~ what do you mean? "Can't"?

- Gotham is on quarantine. Mandatory. Only medical personel allowed out. Hell, even the JL grounded us.

• I'm seeing can't, but hearing "help me please"

- guys. This is serious.

• for you, maybe. Timmie, we can't get sick from Covid. Kon is alien, and my metabolism is just too fast for it.

- Bart..

~ he's right, Tim.

- Do not encourage him, Kon.

- you two are not allowed to come.

Tim sighed, staring at his laptop monitor. He’d been stuck in quarantine for several days now. Alone in his apartment. He could probably suit up and hightail it across town to get to the manor if he wanted, but being quarantined alone sounded far more appealing then bring quarantined in the manor with his siblings. Dick would probably drag him into nightly board (read: bored) games, Bruce would be constantly trying to bond, Damian would probably never stop insulting him. Duke and Cass would probably be fine, but Duke was easily roped into Dick's shenanigans, and Cass had that habit of creeping up on you.

No. Tim would survive being stuck alone, working on case files and reading news headlines. Today's news was singing the praises of Wayne Enterprises for their massive donations to research centers, the city, and for them paying for housing and healthcare for homeless. They were also praising Bruce for personally paying for the Covid testing and for paying for food and housing costs for those who couldn't afford it. Bruce had enough money to do so, so he might as well, right?

Amusingly, Tim had seen a headline from Star City about Red Hood and Arsenal highjacking a supply truck full of toilet paper and medical supplies and redistributing it among the poor and homeless, as well as stealing from some stores and making care packages for the homeless.

But now, his idiot boyfriends, severely upsetted by the fact that their Thursday date night had been cancelled, were texting and calling him non-stop, trying to convince him to let them come, finding out if he needed anything ("do you have food?" "Yes, Kon." "I'm talking real food, Tim. Not some Rice Krispies and a few boxes of cereal." "Conner."), and constantly fretting over him. Did he mention they kept whining about missing date night? Well they did. Even the suggestion that they could still hang out with each other didn't appease them. ("But we need our Robin! Our birdie!")

Tim Drake was a smart man. He was a good detective. If he had been at the manor, he'd probably be working with Bruce to develop faster testing, or figure out cures. But what Tim forgot, is how truly, truly, dumb his boyfriends are.

So he really shouldn't have been surprised to hear his door open on Thursday evening.

But yet, he was.

He shot up off his sofa, spinning towards the door. He hadn't changed in a day, and probably hadn't showered in three. His apartment was a mess and honestly he didn't remember what he had for breakfast that day. But yet he grabbed the nearest thing to him, an empty metal waterbottle, and brandished it as a weapon.

"Oh, I'm so scared," a chipper voice said, with a laugh.

"Bart?!" Tim exclaimed, half in shock and anger.

Standing in the entry way of his apartment was Bart Allen and Conner Kent. Conner was carrying several bags of groceries, and Bart had a couple jugs of milk and juice.

"What are you two doing?!" Tim hissed, glaring.

"Uh, visiting, duh?"

Bart zipped to the fridge, putting up his jugs, and then dumping a backpack that Tim hadn't noticed earlier onto the floor.

"Bart," Tim said, his tone dropping to his more commanding, Robin voice.

He noted Kon was also carrying a duffel bag. The man just smiled and then turned to walk into the kitchen.

"Nonono, I know what's going on here, you two aren't staying."

"Why not? We can't get it, and you're just gonna . . ." Bart motioned at the messy living room. "Besides, what if we quarantine ourselves with you."

"Well, because! Because. . . " Tim scowled at him.

He was starting to lose his energy to argue. And he was getting pretty lonely. And this . . . He wasn't wrong either. They could just quarantine together. . . 

"And also, now if you need something, one of us can just zip over to metropolis and pick it up, or go do laundry at Clark and Lo's," Kon called from the kitchen.

"And if you do get sick! You'll have us to look after you!" Bart exclaimed, zipping over and kissing Tim before he could protest.

Tim glared at him from just a few inches away, then at Conner, who had moved to the doorway. They both just grinned at him.

"Fine. Fine! You can stay!" He exclaimed, defeated.

Bart whooped and kissed Tim again.

"Okay, first things first. You need to take a shower, man," Bart told him, wrinkling his nose. "Or else no cuddles."

Tim, touch starved as always, found himself immediately hating that idea.

"Also, we need to clean this place up. So, you go shower and brush your teeth and shave and stuff - or don't shave - and Kon and I will clean up and start supper!"

Tim huffed at him, but obeyed, heading towards the bathroom, stopping by Conner first to give him a quick kiss. Kon just grinned and pulled him in close, tweaking Tim's nose before kissing him. Then he shoved Tim towards the bathroom.

He went through the bedroom first, snagging some clean clothes, and then went into the bathroom. He quickly stripped and showered, making sure to clean his hair thoroughly, he shaved when he got out, and quickly brushed his teeth as instructed, because frankly, he didn't remember the last time he had done that and didn't want to make his boyfriends deal with that. 

When he got back out, admittedly feeling a little better, he noted Bart and Kon's bags on his bed. He just sighed and shook his head, walking back to the main room. He could already smell the tomatoey scents of Italian food, and wondered what all those two had actually brought with them. There was some form of pop music playing, and he could hear Bart happily singing along to it, Kon chiming in occasionally with the choruses. Tim chuckled and looked around the living room. 

They had cleaned up trash and dishes and fixed the pillows on the sofa. The curtains had been opened, and a candle was burning on the coffee table and all the glasses and mugs and plates had been removed. Tim walked over and leaned against the kitchen doorway, watching Bart dart around and cook, while Kon washed dishes.

"This that hot girl bummer anthem. Turn it up and throw a tantrum~" Bart sang, doing a little dance as he darted from the fridge back to the stove, throwing a few things into a sauce.

"What are you making?" Tim asked softly, but they both heard him.

"Hey! He's clean!" Bart announced cheerfully. "And I am making lasagna! Max's special recipe."

Tim hummed in response, grinning back at the speedster.

"So are you two going to eat me out of house and home by the end of tomorrow, or?"

Kon shot Tim a smirk. "Depends."

"Ugh, Kent! I meant food!"

Conner laughed, rinsing one last dish before drying his hands, walking over and pulling Tim up against his front.

"I never said that wasn't what I meant, did I?"

"No. . . But with you there's always some kind of innuendo."

Kon huffed in mock annoyance, before ducking his head and gently kissing Tim a few times. Tim tilted his face up and obliged, wrapping his arms around Kon's neck.

"I missed you," Kon mumbled lightly, his hands sneaking up Tim's soft cotton shirt that may or may not have belonged to Kon at some point.

"I missed you too," Tim responded instinctually, not really realizing exactly how true that was.

"Then why didn't you let us come sooner?" Bart's voice asked and then he was slipping between their arms, sandwiching himself between them.

Tim laughed, giving the pouting Bart a few kisses, turning him from pouty Bart to smiley Bart.

"Because I didn't want you guys getting sick."

"Tim we literally can't."

"Did you confirm that?"

"Yeah. I called Lex and asked. And you know as well as I do that Bart can't get sick from these things."

Tim sighed, looking down at Bart, then up at Kon. "Well either way, it's too late now."

Once the lasagna was in the oven, Bart made Tim help him finish cleaning, sweeping floors and dusting things, meanwhile Kon just sat by and gave unhelpful commentary and got occasionally whacked with cleaning supplies. Once the apartment was properly cleaned, and feeling much better, they decided to properly move Bart and Kon into Tim's room, even though they had stated they'd probably be leaving to get more clothes and such. And probably their dogs. 

Tim sat on his bed and watched them unpack bathroom supplies and clothes and other various personal items. Phone chargers got plugged in his few remaining wall outlets and things got shoved into previously neat areas.

"Were you really gonna stay here all by your lonesome?" Bart asked, flopping down onto the bed next to Tim and idly bumping his thigh with his knee.

"It wouldn't have been forever, Bart. I was probably gonna go to the manor eventually."

"Ew, and be around your brothers?"

"They are my family, Bart."

"I know but still. . . "

Tim chuckled and shook his head fondly, moving to lay partially over Bart and softly kiss him.

"Wait, is Keystone even in quarantine yet?"

"Uhhh." Bart grinned sheepishly.

"Bartholomew!"

Bart just giggled a little. "I'm sorry, but I wanted to come too!"

Tim just shook his head and then dropped it to Bart's chest, laying on him and listening to his breathing.

"Hey, this looks like a cuddle pile in the making."

Both of them groaned when Kon flopped - gently - on top of Tim. 

"Kon you big lug! Get off!" Tim whined, pushing up on his hands and knees, trying to dislodge Kon, who didn't move.

"Why, I thought you liked cuddle piles?" Kon giggled out, nuzzling at Tim's neck and causing him to squeak.

"Not when I'm being squished!"

Kon gave an over dramatic groan, but moved, rolling and pulling them both on top of him. It took a bit of squirming before they were comfortable, one on either side of Kon, heads on his shoulder, hands clasped on top of his stomach. They laid there and chatted idly, with no concern for anything that might interrupt their lives.

"Bart the oven is going off."

And just like that, Bart was gone. A couple seconds passed, then he was back, snuggling right up against Kon again.

"Where were we?"

Both Kon and Tim just started laughing.

Once dinner was ready, they sat on the sofa and binged a couple episodes of Broadchurch before settling into another cuddle pile. Their default form was cuddle pile. Then eventually Bart got bored with sitting still, so they turned on Mario Kart, played a few normal rounds to watch Kon and Bart suffer, then Tim turned on the mod he had made to make the game go super fast. 

He had learned not to watch the screen while this was happening. That's how you got eye damage.

"I'm gonna go do a little patrolling," Kon said, standing after Bart had beat him, again.

"Oh. Okay. Be careful, give a call if you need any help," Tim said, looking up from his laptop.

"Yeah, if I need anything, I'll call Bart."

"Kon."

"Hey, you're grounded, remember?"

Tim sighed, stretching up so Kon could kiss him. Kon chuckled and did so, then bent over the back of the sofa to kiss Bart, before disappearing into the bedroom to change. Then he called a goodbye on the way out the window. Tim and Bart looked at each other.

"So what are we doing then?"

Tim shrugged vaguely and looked back at his laptop.

"Well I'm gonna keep playing my game then."

"Okay."

Bart left him alone for a solid twenty minutes, which was a bit of a record for him, then he was tugging on Tim's laptop, trying to steal it.

"Yes, Bart?"

"I wanna cuddle."

"Cuddle?"

Bart's silence cause Tim to look over, and found he was pouting. Tim chuckled and saved his files, setting the laptop on the floor, then moving so his back was on an armrest, and opened his arms for Bart. Bart practically dove forwards, laying between Tim's legs, head on his chest, arms around his stomach. Tim chuckled and adjusted a bit for his own comfort, then let himself relax with Bart.

Eventually they turned on a movie and just laid together, idly chatting. There would be plenty of time for work later, Tim decided. But for now, he'd spend time with Bart. He may be stuck with these two for months before restrictions laxed, but he would take every moment he could, just to spend time with them while he could.

Kon got back after a few hours, stumbling back through the window, and giving them a grin, but he didn't come over, just walked away into the bathroom, leaving the scent of soot and acid in his wake.

"He's stinky," Bart remarked, still laying on Tim's chest.

"Hmmn, stinky boy."

Bart sniggered. Tim had, at some point, set his laptop on Bart's ass and was still working. Was it the most effective or romantic? No. But Bart didn't mind and it was keeping Tim from getting bored. 

Then his phone started ringing.

"Bart, grab that for me please?"

Bart quickly grabbed the phone from the coffee table before immediately settling back into place.

"Yello?"

"Hey, Timmy."

"Hi Dick, what's up?"

"Nothing, just wanted to check in and see how things were going with you."

Tim glanced down at Bart.

"I'm okay."

"Yeah? Just hanging out and working on cases, I assume?"

"Yeah, I'm working on that March case."

Dick hummed from across the line.

"Well, are you sure you don't want to come to the manor?"

"Yeah, I'm sure. Honestly I'm surprised you're there. I thought you'd be with Wally?"

There was a pause. 

"I was going to, but he got directly exposed the day before he was supposed to come down, and he didn't want to risk it until he discovered if speedsters could actually catch it."

"Hmmn, I have it on good authority they can't."

"Is that so?"

"Yup."

"They're there with you, aren't they?"

Tim just grinned, even though Dick couldn't see it. His brother laughed.

"Tim, you scoundrel."

"Listen, I told them no, they wouldn't listen to me, and then when they showed up, it was too late because Bart like, immediately kissed me."

"Hell yeah I did."

Dick just laughed again. Tim could envision him fondly shaking his head.

"So, I'll let you go then, I'm sure you guys have some catching up to do, if you know what I mean."

"Oh my god, shut up," Tim laughed out, even as he started playing with Bart's hair.

"Just speaking the truth!"

"Goodbye, Dick."

"Bye, Timmy! Love you, stay safe!"

"You too!"

Tim hung up the phone and let it fall to the ground beside the sofa.

"Oh good, you're off. I didn't want to come do this with your brother still on the phone."

Tim tilted his head back to see a shirtless Kon standing over him, grinning, hair still dripping slightly from his shower. He bent down and deeply kissed Tim. Tim gave a surprised noise and reached a hand up, resting it on Kon's jaw. When he pulled away, leaving Tim breathless, he just grinned mischievously, then moved so he was closer to Bart.

"Bartie."

"Hmmn?" When the ginger picked his head up, Kon kissed him the same.

Bart just grinned at him after, and put his head back on Tim's chest.

"Do you guys want a snack, because I'm starving."

Tim watched Kon walk away, and just had to laugh.

It was lucky the three of them were huge cuddlers, because otherwise they would not have fit in Tim's queen sized bed. Not with Kon's huge shoulders. After their snacks, Bart had to literally steal Tim's laptop, and then Kon decided to carry him to the bathroom to get ready for bed, instead of just letting him walk.

As the three of them laid in bed, a few minutes later, more focused on lazily kissing then actually sleeping, Tim decided that if he was going to be quarantined anywhere, being in his apartment with his amazing, dumb, loving boyfriends couldn't be the worst solution. And it was, by far, preferable over going to the manor. So he would happily keep his mouth shut and let them fret over him. Because he loved them. And they loved him.

@core-disaster-week-2020 originally written for @unknownunseenunheard !!

[leverage-ot3]

notable moments from The Jailhouse Job

leverage 3.01

I love how they opened up s3 with all of their “codenames”/job titles

- - - - -

Hardison: Cameras are watching yesterday's footage. Locking down... which elevator?

[Elevator Shaft]

Parker: Huh? What? Oh, um, um, yes, I-I'm a go for elevator one.

[Courthouse Hallway]

Hardison: Were you asleep?

[Elevator Shaft]

Parker: It's very peaceful up here. Besides, I sleep better upside down.

(Parker is wearing her rigs, hanging upside down, elevator rises)

I adore her, okay + SHE SLEEPS BETTER UPSIDE DOWN ??? !!!

- - - - -

(Nate walks into the elevator with two men, one armed, the other the one whose gun Sophie stole. Parker jumps on the top of the elevator, opens it, and tasers both men before picking the lock on Nate’s cuffs)

Nate: You know, you could have just taken the keys off the guy's belt.

Parker: Eh, this is faster.

parker LOVES tasering people + it’s faster for her to pick a lock than to look for keys

- - - - -

(Hardison is walking along the sidewalk checking his phone, setting off car alarms)

Guard: What the hell?

(the guards at the door go to check, and Eliot disarms them, knocking one into traffic. Sophie pulls up in a car and just as Nate and Parker exit the building)

eliot’s F A C E when he accidentally makes the guy get hit by a car LMFAO

- - - - -

when it goes from “nate’s apartment” to “leverage hq”

- - - - -

Eliot: Spanish soap opera.

Hardison: Oh, yeah. Check it out, man. Look, it turns out Pepe's twin brother Peppi is actually Guadalupe's baby's daddy.

Eliot: Seriously?

headcanon: hardison and eliot were watching it earlier and eliot says “really” because god spanish soap operas are so dramatic

- - - - -

(Parker comes in with a bag over her shoulder)

Eliot: He doesn’t want to do it.

Parker: Oh, but I love jumping on elevators.

Hardison: I know.

Parker: This is my special elevator rig he got me for Christmas

we LOVE to see that nate (and sophie ?) get their children presents for christmas

- - - - -

Eliot: All right, look, Nate, you took the fall for us, so...

Hardison: After you lied to us. He's a liar.

Eliot: You took the fall for us. You went to jail so we wouldn't have to. We get that, so we're square. But now you got to let us get you out of prison.

Parker: But if we're gonna do that...

Hardison: And not all of us are convinced that we should.

Parker: Then we have to hit you at your next hearing. That prison's escape-proof.

Nate: Guys, no.

hardison is salty but eliot forgives him for the most part

+

I love it when the ot3 sits together

(also I take note when they’re in the same frame in these posts in case I (or anyone else) wants to reference when they are together for gif and or fanvid purposes)

- - - - -

Nate: I committed a crime, I got caught, and now I am gonna serve my time.

Sophie: Nate, what kind of world would it be if everybody that committed a silly little crime went to prison, huh? Complete madness. (Parker scoffs, Hardison makes an incredulous gesture with his hands)

- - - - -

Hardison: Okay, you know... You know what? Fine, Nate.

[Leverage HQ]

Hardison: We're still out here. We're doing the job. We help people nobody else helps. That's important. You want to stay around and miss out just because you got to figure out your guilty conscience, that's your loss.

Nate: Yeah, Hardison, I wa...

(Hardison severs the connection)

- - - - -

Worth: I am not a warden. I am CEO of National Prison Properties. I built this company, five prisons, from the ground up.

(The Italian laughs and lights a lighter)

Italian: Impressive. (lights a cigarette) You know what they say... That Rome was not built in a single day. But it burned in one. (blows out the lighter)

BADASS

- - - - -

(Billy pushes a cart of books through the room)

Billy (to Nate): Hey.

Nate: Hey.

Billy: Seamus Heaney. That Irish guy you asked for. (hands him a book)

Nate: Oh, excellent. Wow, thanks... Billy, right?

Billy: Uh, yeah.

Nate: Well, thank you. This could not have been easy to find.

Billy: Well, you seemed pretty down. And we got to stand up for each other, right?

Nate: Yeah. You're all right, Billy.

Billy: Yeah. Wish the judge thought so. (pushes cart away)

Nate: Yeah, I appreciate it

- - - - -

(Nate watches as Billy leaves the room, followed by some tough looking inmates)

Nate: I think something's happening.

Bellows: Thanks for your input. You can move on now.

(Nate follows them out of the common area)

prisons are the fucking worst but PRIVATE PRISONS are double that and john rogers agrees and that’s yet another reason why I love him

- - - - -

hardison tried taking up making a model helicopter in his spare time. cute

+ hardison likes to use the word hinky

- - - - -

Nate (puts hand on Billy’s shoulder): I'm sorry.

Billy: For what?

(Nate stabs Billy in the side)

Billy: Oh, sh...

(Billy falls to the floor, holding his side)

Nate: Oh. Uh, Hardison, why don't you gather the team and get me background checks on the... on the warden?

Billy: You stabbed me!

Nate: Oh, come on, just... just a little. It's... it's fine

this is the same as the “lightly stabbed” meme

- - - - -

Worth: The US has the fastest growing prison population in the world. Well, it's like the real-estate boom.

(Hardison plugs a flash drive into Worth’s computer)

Worth: Except, of course, the problem with real estate... You eventually run out of land. You never run out of people to put in prison.

Hardison: Hmm. We haven't had much success with private prisons concept in England. Our investment firm has large real-estate holdings for construction of facilities.

Worth: You see, any yahoo can lay some concrete and throw up some razor wire. The profit comes in proper management.

(Hardison looks at his phone, which is accessing Worth’s computer)

Worth: For example, the big money for us is in prison labor.

Hardison: Sorry?

Worth: Goods and services made by prisoners in America. $2 billion a year. One out of every five office chairs and desks "Made in America", made by convicts. And those jobs are not going to the Chinese. Bottom's up

john rogers was calling this bullshit out in like 2010 and still NOBODY LISTENS

- - - - -

(two guards are standing outside the room Billy and Nate are in)

Billy: Man, is this really the best plan?

Nate: Listen, the infirmary's under lockdown. There's cameras on both sides of the door, extra guards because of the pharmaceuticals. It's the safest place in the prison, really

- - - - -

Eliot (to guard): Abernathy, MD.

eliot still uses this alias that he picked up for The Rashomon Job

- - - - -

Eliot: We can just... well, you know what? It's fine. Just right in here, sir. And please have a seat.

(Nate sits in the chair and Eliot lays it back)

Eliot: It's just in case the guards come in. (buckles restraints on Nate’s wrists) Restraints. Here's an infirmary manual. (turns the light on Nate’s face and picks up a drill)

Nate: That's, uh, for the... for the guards, right?

Eliot: You know what I usually do, Nate, to people that run a con on their own team? Almost get people killed 'cause they're out of control?

Nate: Are we okay, Eliot?

(Eliot puts down the drill and plugs in a flash drive, typing on the keyboard. Images come up on the monitor)

eliot is mostly over it but would he ever give up a chance to fuck with him? nope.

- - - - -

[Judge’s Office]

Sophie: Key card and checkbook.

Parker: Keys and appointment book. Ooh, and this? (holds up keys) Safe deposit box key.

Sophie: Ooh, I love a secret.

(Sophie sits down at desk while Parker gets started on the safe)

COMPETENT WOMEN

- - - - -

Hardison: Yeah. See, Rockford can't drop below 70% occupancy. If they do, they lose their state funding. No state money, they close. And they came very close two years ago.

[Nate’s Cell]

Nate: Hmm. So, private prisons are like the hotel business. They live and die on occupancy, head count. Now, Worth wasn't gonna lose $100 million in profit just 'cause he didn't have enough hard-cases to fill the prison, so he puts a few judges on the arm to send him non-violent offenders, easy prisoners to supervise.

[Leverage HQ]

Parker: Yeah, but why these people?

Eliot: Because they're citizens. 'Cause they're honest, middle-class citizens. These are the people, they don't want to cause any trouble. They can't afford a lawyer, so if some judge sends them away, well, yes, sir. They were taught to trust the courts. They believe in the system

- - - - -

[Leverage HQ]

(Parker wearing a robe standing in front of a green screen, trying to pose. At one point she does a duck face.)

Sophie: You remember what I showed you. Just try some different-different shapes and-and-and that pout that we talked about. Ohh, no, not that one. (to Hardison) I didn't show her that.

Sophie: Kind of... just, you know, just relax. Try one up, one down. Maybe... So...

(Parker continues to pose)

Sophie: Ooh, yeah. Shoot that.

(Hardison snaps photos)

Sophie: Ooh, I like that. That's gonna work.

(Sophie uses the remote to place Parker into a photo of Worth)

Sophie: Okay. Yes.

Hardison: Looks good.

Sophie: I can work with that.

(Parker drops her clothes to the floor)

Hardison: Whoa. Oh! Whoa.

Sophie: Parker!

Hardison: Why am I looking away

this scene is iconic lmfao

also hardison you’re not looking because you’re a goddamn GENTLEMAN and we love you for it

+ she takes off all her clothes and puts on a baret LMFAO

- - - - -

parker and hardison smiling at each other as they map out the prison

+

THEY CLASP HANDS HAPPILY

- - - - -

Parker: Who's Sophie?

Hardison: You remember, we're not supposed to use her real name with, uh...

Parker: Right, Nate hasn't earned it yet. Forgot. Sophie. Sophie. So-phie. So-o-o-phie. Sophie. S-s-s-sophie. Sophie

we love parker trying to act cool and normal and fumble about it. she’s baby

- - - - -

Eliot: All right, we cut that wire.

Hardison: No. No, look, once a lockdown is called, all these sensors go hot and those door bolts drop into place.

Parker: I got it! The furnace room. There's no sensors because it's too hot. They crawl straight down along the heating pipes until they reach the sewage system. Ha ha!

[Prison Common Area]

Nate: Now, Parker, it's a 150 degrees in there.

[Leverage HQ]

Parker: The average human can withstand that for 27 seconds.

(Hardison and Eliot look away)

Parker: What? Come on

the ot3 is trying your honor

also parker is adorable playing with the model helicopter remote while laying down on the table

- - - - -

Worth: Then fire them. What's the use of being non-union if I can't fire people?

GROSS

- - - - -

Nate: Parker, please tell me you're at Hardison's new van.

[Exterior Prison]

Parker: Yeah, it's really nice.

[Prison Common Area]

Nate: Did you bring it?

[Exterior Prison]

Parker: Wait, are we doing that now?

[Prison Common Area]

Nate: Yeah, we're gonna breaking out right now.

[Exterior Prison]

Parker: Yes! (gets into van)

SHES SO EXCITED + she likes the new van!!!

- - - - -

Nate: A little sloppy.

Eliot: New glasses. (takes them off and looks at them)

OKAY SO DOES HE NEED GLASSES OR NOT ???

also he did the lil flip thing with the security guard nightstick

- - - - -

Computer: Lockdown.

Nate: Okay. (pushes door open and holds up a folded piece of paper) Newspaper folded eight times can support a ton of weight. Come on.

(they head down the hall)

- - - - -

Sophie: Motion sensor. Nate.

Nate: Steam's filling up now.

[Prison Kitchen]

(Nate walks slowly toward exit)

Nate: Motion sensor beat.

[Freezer]

(Nate enters and grabs a plastic bag, draping it around him)

[Leverage HQ]

Sophie: Breathe.

[Prison Mechanical Room]

(Nate pushes out a grate and enters the room, the bag covered in ice)

Nate: And heat sensor cleared. Last stop.

(throws off bag and exits the room)

- - - - -

parker was having so much fun with the model helicopter I love it

- - - - -

Hardison: You, yeah. Ha. See, I like this. I like when we pretend to kiss.

Parker: "Pretend"?

Hardison: Heeeey

- - - - -

Nate: What about my team?

Italian: They lead dangerous lives. Thieves die all the time.

Nate (steps close to her): Now that you should not have said.

Italian: I don't know. You seem highly motivated. (walks away)

- - - - -

Sophie: Damien Moreau? Are you out of your mind? Nobody touches Moreau!

Hardison: Nate, Moreau finances the Sicilians, the Russian mafia, the Colombian cartels.

Eliot: Yeah, he moves money for the North Koreans, stolen artifacts for Iraq, nuclear materials for Iran.

Hardison: Moreau is The Big Bad. He is the central bank for international crime.

Parker: N-nate, these files are CIA, FBI, Mossad, Japanese Security

poor eliot this season is gonna be Rough™ for him :(

- - - - -

Sophie: She's blackmailing us?

Nate: She's... she's... she's sort of... Yeah. Yeah.

Parker: Sucks to be on the wrong side of that, finally.

- - - - -

Eliot: We can't go straight at a guy like Moreau. They'll vaporize us.

ELIOT was the one that finally gave in and gave up some information on how to go at this. eliot. because he knows moreau. he knows how that man works. so he knows he has to be the one to start the conversation, even though he hates it with every fiber of his being.

[katehuntington]

Title: Ride With Me (part ten) Fandom: Supernatural AU Characters series: Reader, Dean Winchester, Bobby Singer, Ellen Singer-Harvelle, Jo Singer (Harvelle), Benny Lafitte, Garth Fitzgerald IV, Castiel Novek, and many more. Timeline: 2008 Pairing: Dean x Reader (eventually) Word count: ±6500 words Summary series: Y/N is a talented horse rider who is on her way to become a professional. In order to convince her father that she deserves the loan needed to start her own farm, she goes to Arizona for six months, to intern at a ranch owned by Bobby and Ellen Singer. Her future is set out, but then she meets a handsome horseman, who goes by the name of Dean Winchester. A heartwarming series about a cowboy who falls for the girl, letting go of the past and the importance of family.  Summary part ten: Y/N is about to go on an adventure. Good thing she has her friend Jo to help her pack and her crush Dean to guide the way. Warnings series: NSFW, 18+ only! Fluff, angst, eventually smut. Swearing, smoking, alcohol intoxication, alcohol abuse. Mutual pining, heartbreak. Crying, nightmares, childhood trauma. Description of animal abuse, domestic violence, mentions of addiction. Financial problems, stress, mental breakdown. Description of blood and injury, hospital scenes, character death, grief. Music: The Man With The Harmonica - Ennio Morricone, Hide And Seek - Gareth Dunlop (end scene). Check out ‘Kate Huntington’s Ride With Me playlist’ on Spotify! Author’s note: Thank you @kittenofdoomage and @girl-with-a-fandom-fettishfor helping me. You girls are awesome betas. Thank you for your endless patience!

Ride With Me Masterlist

    “Wait, you’re not planning on bringing all that with you, are ya?”     Y/N’s eyes leave the three pairs of boots from which she still has to choose. Not to decide what two sets to leave behind, but which to wear and which to pack. Jo stands in the doorway of her tiny room, staring at the bed, which is covered in flannels, shirts, tops, several hats, jeans, jackets, sweaters, towels, socks, matching underwear, swimwear, a makeup bag, and a toiletry bag. Even a hair iron and of course her phone charger lay amongst the collection of items that one way or another are going to have to fit into her bag.

    The season is coming to an end now that September has reached its final days. It’s time to move the two-year-old horses down from the summer reservation. Bobby had asked his intern if she wanted to come along and of course she blurted out ‘yes!’ before he could even finish his sentence. She was so excited about the trail ride and started packing immediately. This is going to be quite an experience, especially for a show rider like herself who usually sticks to riding in a fenced arena.     It’s a good thing that she started gathering her things early, because she has been contemplating what to bring for over an hour now. She’s the kind of girl who pays extra for exceeding the luggage weight limit on her flights, so no wonder she’s having it tough choosing what to bring.

    A little helpless she looks over at Jo, who’s waiting on her response.     “I was planning on bringing this, actually,” she returns, hesitatingly.     “Damn… poor horse,” the blonde cowgirl comments, eyeing all her friend’s stuff.     “Too much?” Y/N assumes.     “Just a tad,” Jo scoffs as she walks in. “And what the hell are you bringing the entire electronics store for?”     “It’s just my charger and my hair iron. I will look like birds are nesting on my head if I don’t straighten this out,” she objects, holding out the strands of hair that have escaped her ponytail.     “And you can’t have that with Dean around.” The ranch owner’s daughter crosses her arms in front of her chest, knowingly frowning at her friend.     Y/N tilts her head and glares back, but fails to come up with a decent counter, because she’s not wrong.     “Shut up,” she mutters instead.     “By all means, pack it.” Jo shrugs as she turns back to the door. “But unless you tie a generator behind that horse of yours or find a cactus with a plug, you ain’t charging a damn thing.”     “Wait. What?” Y/N responds, confused.

    Jo sways around, her blonde braid hanging down from one shoulder. She narrows her eyes, trying to understand how her friend could be so oblivious to the fact that there won’t be any electricity where they are going. “What did my old man tell you exactly?”     “That we might have to spend a couple of nights out camping,” Y/N recalls, trying to remember his exact words.     “Have you ever been out camping, city girl?” Jo wonders, her tone indicating that she has figured it out.     Now Y/N crosses her arms defensively. Just because she comes from a wealthy family, doesn’t mean that she has never been on a trip back to basics.     “I have, as a matter of fact,” she returns confident.     “Let me define ‘camping’,” Jo kicks off. “I’m talking ‘bout the sleeping-in-a-tent, no-shower-for-days, cooking-your-own-food-above-a-fire kind of camping. Not the kind where you park the luxurious double axle camper nice and close to the restaurant and the power station and get that satellite working as soon as possible so y’all can watch Netflix.”

    Y/N opens her mouth to claim that she is not that kind of person, but has to admit her loss. She’s right, down to the double axle camper and the satellite TV.     “So, no electricity? No shower?” she asks, intimidated by the matter, a trace of panic in her voice.     “Nope,” Jo confirms, amused. “Better start prioritizing. Let me get my saddlebags, you can use those. Everything that doesn’t fit in there except for your sleeping bag, is not comin' along for the ride.”     “Alright,” Y/N agrees reluctantly, nonetheless grateful for the help. “But how are you going to pack if I have your saddlebags?”     “Simple: I’m not. I’m staying home,” the ranch owner’s daughter says.     Astonished, the intern looks at her. Wait, her friend isn’t coming on this trail? The thought actually scares Y/N a little, because Jo has been there to guide her since she picked her up from the airport over a month ago.     “Are you kidding me? Why?”     “Someone has to run this joint while y’all are having fun. Usually, the stable crew guards the castle, but with Ash gone…”

    Y/N drops her head, her mind going out to the former cattle worker. Ash left a week ago. Bobby gave him two weeks' notice but said he was free to go anytime. The loyal employee showed character and stayed as long as Bobby could afford to keep him. But after those fourteen days, Ash had no choice but to leave. Everyone was sad to see the quirky fellow go. The exchange of hugs between him and every member of his working family was moving to witness.     “Dad offered to stay behind by himself, but he’s getting too old to work that hard,” Jo explains. “Garth and I will make sure everything runs smoothly here.”     “What about me? How am I supposed to function without my conscience?” Y/N pouts.     “You’ll be fine. You got Dean to hold your hand the entire way,” Jo mocks.     The worried cowgirl chuckles. “That’s the whole problem now, isn’t it?”     Jo gets up and intends to leave the room to get the saddlebags. She halts in the doorway, though, offering good advice. “Just remember: don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”     “He’s your cousin. Of course you’re not going to sleep with him,” Y/N returns smartly, pulling a laugh from the blonde cowgirl.     “See my point?” she returns, winking back before she leaves the room.

    Thirty minutes later, Y/N is packed and ready, but sacrifices had to be made. Obviously, the hair iron and phone charger didn’t make the final cut, but neither did her shampoo, conditioner, and moisturizer, since she won’t be able to shower anyway. Her makeup didn’t fit into the bags either. It hurts to leave it all behind and she already feels insecure about spending days with the others wearing a blank canvas of a face. Sure she isn’t as fresh at the end of a working day as she was at the start of it, but so far she has been able to keep her hair and makeup in check. Now she won’t even have a mirror to judge how tired and ordinary she looks without a brow pencil and mascara.     “You’re all set.” Jo, who is on her knees on the wooden floor fighting with the saddlebag, secures the last strap, shifts her weight back on her heels and places her hands on her narrow waistline.     “I owe you one. I would have never managed alone,” Y/N says, appreciating her friend’s help.     “You know you can count on me.” She shrugs it off after getting up. “I’ll lend you my raincoat and my gloves too. Never sure if you’re gonna need ’em, but if the monsoon decides to throw a curveball at ya, you’ll be thanking me.”     She pops out of the room again, as excited for the intern as Y/N is herself. Jo’s bubbly personality has her smiling even after she leaves. It’s funny how it feels like they have known each other for years and yet it was only a month ago that she got into the pickup truck at the airport. One month ago, this challenge started. Her dad tries to hide the surprise in his voice every time she phones him to tell him how much she is enjoying her time here. He probably expected a plea for money. That, or a one-way ticket back to luxury and easy work.

    Y/N looks at one of the pictures that she nailed to the wooden wall. It portrays her family; Mom, Dad, and her three brothers surrounding Y/N at her graduation ceremony. Sure, she misses them, but she is starting to become a part of this ranch family too. That’s how it feels anyway: accepted, wanted… even loved. Her eyes hover over the picture frames and other decorations that she used to spice up her room a little. Many of the photos show Meadow, some snapped during shows, others at home in the fields. Won belt buckles and ribbons are trophies of their success together, each memory a highlight of her partnership with the special Quarter mare. Y/N remembers when she won every single one of them.

    “You’re not getting homesick, are ya?”     She startles, jolted awake from her daydream, and turns her head to face her handsome supervisor. Dean leans against the doorpost, and judging by the amused expression, he has been standing there for longer than a second. Dear Lord, she got so caught in recalling past victories and happy memories, that she didn’t hear him walk up to her room. The sight of him has her lost for air, even after recovering from the scare. He stands on one leg, the other bent and crossing his back foot, resting on the nose of his boot. Fringe from his worn chaps fall down over his jeans, a dark brown Stetson to match it. Dressed in a red plaid buttoned shirt and a denim jacket over it, he looks even better than he did this morning. The handsome models in the old Marlboro commercials have nothing on him.     “Don’t worry. I’m not going back anytime soon,” she responds before Dean can call her out on staring. “Besides, this is beginning to feel a lot like home, too.”     The wrangler glances at the wall next to the bunk bed and lets his eyes roam over the photos, ribbons and buckles. He smiles at a goofy picture of her and her three older brothers.     “I like what you’ve done with the place,” he compliments.     Y/N smiles at that. “Well, I am going to be staying here for a while. Might as well make it cozy.”

    He grins, his green eyes catching the rays of sunlight coming through the window. Specks of gold stand out amongst the apple green, his pupils adjusting as they flick over the captured moments. They stop when he notices a photo taken during a prize-giving ceremony. He recognizes Meadow instantly, her trademark white face is hard to miss. She stands proudly with a white and blue sash hanging from her neck, event sponsors standing next to the horse, presenting the prizes won while smiling at the camera. But the person who smiles the brightest is Y/N, who sits squarely in the saddle with a wide grin on her face and sparkles in her eyes.     “You won the State Championships,” he says impressed, reading the footnote. “That’s pretty damn impressive.”     Y/N lights up but stays humble. “Meadow was on fire. It was the ride of my life.”     “I bet it was.” Dean watches her for a second, admiring, while she reminisces over the highlight of her riding career. Then he glances at his watch briefly. “We leave at ten. You’re all packed?”

    “She is now,” Jo interrupts, holding out a rolled-up sleeping bag and neatly packed raincoat. “Gloves are in the pockets.”     “Thanks, Jo.” Y/N takes them and looks over her shoulder in search of her saddlebags. Dean instantly moves in to pick them up, since she has her hands full anyway.     “I got it,” he states, lifting her luggage over his shoulder.     “Oh, how noble of you!” Jo teases her cousin, not at all impressed with his manors. “What are you gonna do next? Buy a white horse?”     Y/N snorts, but quickly straightens her mouth into a thin line to silence herself and hide the sign of amusement. Luckily, the wrangler is too busy countering her friend, as he follows the two girls into the living room.     “It’s called ‘being nice’. You should try it sometime,” Dean snarls.     Before the ranch owner’s daughter pushes open the front door, she looks over her shoulder. “Would you like to hold the door for her too?” she suggests, a challenging smirk on her face.     “Would you like to shut your piehole?” Dean fires back after rolling his eyes.

    Y/N giggles at the bickering, and opens the door herself by pushing it with her foot. If she didn’t know any better, she would think the two are siblings. Maybe not by blood, but they spent a great deal of their childhood together in the same house, at least that’s what she understood from Jo. Over the years, the youngest Singer figured out that she might not be able to beat her older cousin when it comes down to strength and speed, but verbally she stands her ground just fine. Now is no different, because Dean might have had a comeback ready, Y/N doesn’t fail to notice the color on his cheeks. He carefully glances at her from under his hat, the cowgirl smiling back reassuringly before she descends down the stairs.

    At the tack up area, the Joshua tree stands tall, offering meager shade to the horses and humans underneath its branches. It’s rush hour. Benny and Garth are readying the horses, assisted by the three riders that are coming along for the trail. Dean was against bringing people along on such a long and potentially dangerous ride, but Bobby said the tourists paid good money and were experienced, so eventually, he agreed. Eight horses are tied up to the rails around the yucca tree. Six of them will be ridden, the other two will be the group’s packhorses. Y/N spots Joplin amongst them, the feisty mare that has grown on her over the past weeks.     “She’s yours for the next couple of days.” Dean points her out, heading over to the dark horse with Y/N’s baggage. “Since the two of you get along so well.”

    Delighted, she faces the mare, who pushes her soft nose into the folded raincoat in her arms, sniffing up the aroma. Y/N likes the little dark horse. She is not easy, has different ideas about what the pace should be, and can get very offended when her rider tells her otherwise, but there’s something about her attitude that the intern appreciates. She’s fast, tireless from the second her rider puts a foot in the stirrup, to the second he or she gets off. The Quarter is perfect for a trail like this. It didn’t cross her mind to bring Meadow for the ride. The reining horse, which is used to train on smooth arena footing, would most likely injure herself on the uneven rocky slopes and narrow paths. The hours under saddle would be much longer than regular training too, and Y/N does not want to confront her four-legged best friend with a task that she isn’t up for.     Dean swings the saddlebags over Joplin’s back and straps them to the saddle. He mounts the sleeping bag and Jo’s raincoat that he takes from the intern on top, his fingers briefly brushing against hers in the transfer. The tingling sensation lingers on the surface of her skin where he touched her, causing her to be the one who is flustered now. The wrangler carefully glances over as he secures the baggage. She feels caught, but his expression is soft and comforting; he felt it too.

    “Okay, y’all! We’re goin’ in five!” Benny shouts loud enough for everyone on the square to hear with his Southern accent thick on his tongue. “If you have to use the john or forgot to pack clean undies, now would be your last chance to do so.”

    Last preparations are made by the crew. Benny secures his lasso to the horn of the saddle with a leather rope strap, while Dean consults his uncle one more time before departure, the two of them looking at a map of the Superstition Mountains. Then Dean folds the map and shoves it into the inside pocket of his jacket, after which he walks over to Ted Nugent, the big brown gelding that he will be riding for the upcoming days, since his favorite buckskin is out with a tendon injury ever since that rainy morning when the cattle broke out.  Ellen walks up to her nephew and hands him a paper bag which, without a doubt, contains something delicious.     “Made you some pecan tassies for on the road,” she says. “Wouldn’t want you to miss my baking too much.”    “Thanks, Ellen.” Dean gives her a grateful nod and puts the tassies in his saddlebag.     “Be careful out there, alright?” she presses, clearly worried about the quest that lies ahead for the wranglers. “Bring them back home safely.”     “I’ll take care of the bunch. I promise,” he assures comfortingly, gently pulling her into his chest after which he gives his aunt a kiss on her hair.

    Ellen and Dean aren’t the only ones who exchange a few last words before the group leaves.     “Okay, grasshopper. This is it,” Jo’s voice sounds from behind Y/N.     She spins on her heels in between the horses to meet the ranch owner’s daughter, who folds her arms around Y/N and hugs her tight. Happily, she returns the embrace before Jo pulls back and holds her by the shoulders.     “Stay away from chollas if you don’t want Joplin to turn into a two-year-old who never had a saddle on her back before. And if the horses get nervous and you hear a rattle, get the hell out of Dodge, because there’s a rattlesnake within a few feet from you. Check your–-”     Y/N cuts Jo off, because she has heard this before from either her or Ellen.     “I know, I know. Check my boots for spiders and scorpions before I put them on and keep the tent closed,” she fills in.     “Not just to keep out insects and reptiles, but horny cowboys as well,” Jo adds.     Y/N snorts. “I’ll handle him. I will miss you, though.”     “I’ll miss you, too, sis,” her friend returns, smiling.

    They say goodbye while Dean unties his gelding and gets on swiftly, overlooking the group from the higher point of view.     “Y’all ready?” he asks the company of six.     When the riders cheer, he takes the reins with one hand and pulls it gently towards him, an aid for Ted to backup and move away from the other horses. The excitement rises noticeably, comparable to what one would feel when on an aircraft just before take-off and on its way to a new destination. Some of the animals start to get restless in the thrill, Joplin included. Y/N doesn’t waste any time and pulls the safety knot in order to free the mare, then puts her left foot in the stirrup and pushes herself off the ground with her right, swinging it over the back of the black horse.     “Good luck, y’all,” Bobby wishes the six men and women.     “See you in a couple of days!” Jo calls out.

    Y/N waves at the people staying behind, a bright smile spreading from ear to ear. Looking forward to the adventure that will come next, she straightens herself in the saddle and faces the vast landscape. She might be twenty-four, but she feels more like a seven-year-old going on a field trip. In front of the rider, a pair of alert ears belonging to Joplin point forward. Beyond that view, the promontory of the Superstition Mountains stretches out. The sun has risen from behind the ridges in the East hours ago, already warming up the valley with its strong rays.

    Dean watches the young woman, consumed by a different kind of scenery as his horse follows the path. In the past few weeks, she has grown more comfortable in her role as a wrangler and a ranch hand. The daily routine is starting to become her second nature and the people she works with are her friends now. He wouldn’t have guessed it at first - and he’s quite sure she herself wouldn’t have guessed it either - but she fits in perfectly. The rich girl from upstate with a master’s degree under her belt feels at home surrounded by a bunch of country folks in the dry desert lands of the south west. Who would have thought that? Dean smiles, content; something tells him that this trip will help her blossom even more.

    She could almost hear a harmonica play the theme from Once Upon A Time In The West, and she’s still waiting for tumbleweed to roll across the path. Cacti reach for the sun, their arms outstretching upward, like the giants are growing actual limbs. It’s a nice variation to the evergreens that she is used to, back in Maine. The rain that came down two weeks ago has laid a blanket of green over the dry lands; it’s amazing how nature can change in a matter of days. Jo warned her about the sun, and with good reason. Over the last month, the intern slowly but surely got used to the extreme weather circumstances that Arizona offers, but she has never been on a horse during the hottest hours of the day. It might already be late September, but the heat is blistering. She could use a shower right about now, and just the thought of not being able to take one for the next couple of days grosses her out. The temperatures weigh on the female rider, more than she thought it would, but her partner Joplin doesn’t seem to mind much. Her neck and shoulders are sweaty, but she still dribbles impatiently every now and then, eager to cover more ground.

    Dean leads the group, guiding them from spring to spring. The group left the Hieroglyphic Trail about three hours ago, which ended at a small creek and a poor excuse for a waterfall. They took a break there and had a few of Ellen’s delicious pecan tassies while the horses drank. Now, they are well on their way to Willow Spring, but the trail isn’t getting any easier. As they conquer the steep slopes, the pace slows down. Y/N is amazed at how the horses are able to maneuver on the rough terrain, which consists of loose pebbles, slippery boulders, and cracked volcanic rock. One misstep could severely injure the large animals, but they seem to be aware of that. Joplin proceeds agile and fearless, almost like a bobcat, and her rider learns quickly to let her take care of the drops and jumps. She doesn’t need guidance, the mare knows the way. All Y/N has to do is sit tight and move along with her to maintain the balance.

    “How y’all doing back there?” Dean is looking over his shoulder, his free hand resting on the cantle of the saddle.     “We’re good!” one of the tourists assures.     His name is Brad, the young guy riding next to his sister Macy and their buddy Jonathan. The head wrangler chatted a little bit with the three members of the group and they turn out to be good company. The trio is traveling across the country, enjoying a gap year from college. With Brad and Macy’s father being a rancher in Colorado, they know their way around horses. Jonathan is a little less experienced in the saddle, but he’s managing just fine. No doubt about it, though, that he’s going to be left with a serious muscle ache in the coming days.         The leader of the pack shifts his eyes from them to his intern, asking her the same question silently. She nods, smiling reassuringly at her handsome supervisor, telling him in the same language that she’s doing fine. Content, Dean smiles back and winks at her before he straightens himself.     It’s a good thing he’s not facing her anymore, because Y/N is sure that about a hundred butterflies hatched from their cocoons in her stomach, the feeling triggering her to take a shuddering breath. She huffs, annoyed with the response he triggered. Just look at him. He’s infuriatinglygorgeous, looking way too good on his horse, in those darn chaps, wearing that darn western hat. A part of her wants to dislike him, just for being so distracting. But she can’t be mad at him, not really. Just a glance her way with that grin and she’s a complete goner. Y/N watches as the cowboy catches up with Benny, slowing his horse down when they are side by side.

    “Tell me, Chief, how are things between you and the intern goin’?” the Southerner wonders, making sure the woman in question is unable to pick up on the conversation.     Dean looks aside at his best friend, amused by his curiosity. “It’s not going anywhere, really. Things are good as they are,” he claims.     “Oh, c’mon, now. Did she turn you down again?” Benny guesses.     Dean eyes him. “She didn’t turn me down. I just didn’t make my move.”     The wrangler next to him seems to need a second to process the information. Dean Winchester didn’t make a move on a girl he likes in 0.2 seconds? That’s a new one. “Wait a minute. So you two haven’t even…?”     “We’re just friends, Benny,” Dean claims, aware how terribly unconvincing it sounds the moment he pronounces the words.     “Horse shit. You didn’t pass up Casey to be ‘just friends’ with the gal. You called dibs,” he reminds the head wrangler. “Besides, I see the way you look at her. You don’t look at a pal like that.”

    Dean shakes his head, remembering the arrangement well. It’s not like he can deny he made that deal with the farrier, despite that it felt wrong to do so. But back then when he claimed her in order to keep his notorious friend away, he was still clueless about the affection he felt for her. The affection that steadily grew stronger to the point where he cares more about what’s best for the free young woman than what he wants for himself.     “So what, Benny?” He shrugs, hoping his friend would let it go.     “So what? I know it’s a little dusty here in the desert, but did you get sand in your eyes?” Benny returns, perplexed.     “Look, I know she’s awesome, and yes, I wouldn’t mind hooking up with her, but I can’t, okay?” Dean claims.     Unable to understand the math behind his choice, the broad-shouldered ranch hand throws him a look that somewhere between dirty and confused. “Why not?”     “Well for starters, Bobby will kill me if he finds out, since he took me aside to specifically forbid me to pull anything. Secondly, she’ll only stay for six months--”     Benny interrupts him, however. “Invalid, Chief. Bobby told you before to quit bouncing around with clients and staff and it never stopped you then. And since when is six months too short for you? You usually get bored with your lady friends after a--”     The cowboy from the South stops mid-sentence and Dean can almost hear it click in his mind. Oh, boy. Benny has figured it out. Even though he tried to make up excuses in order to avoid being confronted by his best bud, there’s no way of dodging that bullet now.     “Well, fuck a goat and call her Nancy! You’re in love with her,” Benny announces, shocked.     Dean raises his eyebrows at the rider next to him, then scoffs and looks away, trying to act like the very idea is ridiculous. “That’s - that’s just… Y-you’re insane,” he stutters, unable to flat out deny it.     Benny starts to laugh out loud, apparently very much amused with his discovery. “I can’t believe you walked straight into that love trap!”     “Would you keep your voice down?” the rider next to him hushes.     The farrier looks over the back of his horse at the intern, but she’s about thirty yards behind them talking to Macy, clueless what the two wranglers leading the group are discussing.     Dean stays quiet for a few long seconds, trying to decide if he is ready to admit that she means so much to him. “She’s a nice girl, Benny. I don’t wanna hurt her,” he claims.     “Oh, c’mon now! You’re seriously telling me you grew a conscience all of a sudden? You used to love ‘em and leave ‘em without a second thought.” Benny has crossed his wrists over the horn of his saddle, the reins loosely between his fingers, as he looks aside to catch anything that would indicate what’s going on in his best mate’s head. It’s clear that he’s astonished by the shift in his demeanor.     “I’m gonna ignore the urge to ask you who you are and where my friend is,” the Southerner chuckles. “But is it really just her heart you’re scared to break?”     Dean ponders, trying to make sense of the odds and ends that scatter his thoughts. Benny is not entirely wrong. It terrifies the wrangler to give in to these emotions. Is that maybe the true reason why he didn’t kiss Y/N that night under the Joshua tree? Or when she came looking for him after he had that argument with Ash? Maybe it’s a bit of both.     “How long have we known each other? Fourteen, fifteen years now?” Dean recalls.     “Give or take,” Benny confirms, looking down at the trail as he moves his hand over the mane of his horse in order to steer it a little wider around a boulder.     “Do I seem like the kinda guy who does that? Fall for a girl? I liked the way things were, no attachments and all that,” the head wrangler continues, confused.     “That’s the thing about falling in love, Chief. It happens to the best of us and always at a time when you least expect it. It hits you like lightning and you’re toast before you even got a clue why you’re feelin’ so crispy,” Benny says wisely.

    The head wrangler glances at his companion sideways, reading into his words. It almost sounds like the Southerner knows what he’s talking about.     “You’ve been there,” he realizes.     “Oh, I’ve been there. I’ve been beyond falling in love, I loved her with my whole damn heart,” Benny acknowledges, smiling at the memory. “Her name was Andrea. We were both eighteen. She spent the summer with relatives in Louisiana and I was a lost cause from the moment I laid eyes on her. A Greek Goddess, and I ain’t exaggeratin’. She was pretty as a peach! Kind, funny as hell, too.”     “Since she’s ain’t here, I reckon it didn’t end well?” Dean assumes again.     “It didn’t; she went back to Greece and I moved here because everything reminded me of her at home,” his friend tells him.     “You know you just proved my point, right?” the head wrangler says, a hint of triumph in his voice trying to mask the sadness in his eyes. “If love always comes to bite you in the ass, why even bother?”     “‘Cause the heartache ain’t the clue, brother. What I had with Andrea was so good, so pure, I wouldn’t have missed it for the world. Even if I knew what I know now, how it would end, I would take that plunge again without a doubt in my mind.”     Dean huffs, unable to believe that. “Despite that she left you?”     “Fuck, yeah,” Benny states. “Better to love and to lose, than to not have loved at all.”

    Dean is quiet now. The path narrows and he holds Ted back a little, merging behind Benny’s horse. As he lets his friend’s words sink in, he glances down the slope at the intern again. She’s several yards down the steep hill, focused on Joplin as she rides her up the trail. Her braided hair already has strands peeking out from under her hat, and he is sure if she had a mirror she would fix the mess, but he loves it. He loves it when the wind rustles her locks, or when the desert dust smudges her skin. Once again that feeling overcomes him, the feeling of a lantern being lit in the pit of his stomach, warming his body as it slowly rises through his core to his chest, where the heat lingers. It feels so good, but there’s a catch to the sensation. It comes with the emotion that creeps up on him when he lays awake at night thinking about Y/N; fear. The fear of her leaving him after her internship. The fear of her reaction if he would let her witness the scar tissue that lays thick on his soul. The fear that this love will consume him, just like the love for Mom consumed his father. The fear of failing her. But now that the true meaning of Benny’s message dawns on him, another kind surfaces. It’s a thought that he hasn’t had before, and as it pops into his head, the question reverberates louder through his mind than all the others. What if he misses his chance? What if there are only so many opportunities to win her over?

    He straightens himself before she looks ahead and spots him staring, and he closes his eyes and tips his hat forward. Shit, you’ve been so worried about losing her that you forgot that in order to lose her, you have to have her first, he thinks to himself. A sigh slips from his dry mouth, reminding him how thirsty he is. He reaches for his water bottle from his saddlebag, pulls out the cap with his teeth and gulps down the water, knocking his head back as he takes a few swigs. Nope, he’s not dehydrated. In fact, he’s still having these contradicting thoughts. When he slips the bottle back where he took it from, his eyes wander down the path again, this time looking straight into hers. As he tries to decide on his next move, he holds her gaze as she smiles up at him. Dean wasted two shots already; what if it’s three strikes, you’re out? If he fucks this up, at least he tried, but if he won’t give this a try at all, he’ll beat himself up over it for the rest of his life. Either way, failure seems to be inevitable.

    Then he remembers something. Something that he was taught at a very young age. He had just turned four when he took a fall off the neighbor’s Shetland pony. It was the first time he had rode alone without his mom holding the miniature horse and the naughty pony took advantage of that situation. The Shetland picked up speed and bucked once, sending him straight into the dirt. After making sure that her son was okay, he recalls his mom picking him up.     “You wanna give it another go?” she asked.     “No…” he said.     “So that’s it? You never wanna ride again?” she questioned again, her voice gentle.     Now he was quiet, not sure how to answer that. “I don’t wanna fall off,” he mumbled eventually, looking down at the ground.     “Falling is a part of riding, sweety. It’s a part of life. It’s okay to fall,” she told him.     “But it hurts,” he said, rubbing his scraped elbow. “And it’s scary.”     “Yeah, sometimes falling can be very scary,” Mom acknowledged. “But you won’t get any better if you stop trying. You have to face what you’re scared of, to grow. You know what they say about falling?”     He shook his little head, waiting for the elaboration patiently.     “You have to fall off seven times before you'll become a good rider,” she says.     “Seven?!” he repeats, eyes wide.     “Seven,” Mom pointed out. “But you know how he becomes a great horseman?”     Dean shook his head again and listened eagerly. All that he wanted was to become a horseman, so this was the time to pay attention.     “A good rider becomes a great horseman when he falls seven times and gets up eight.”

    The wise words always stuck with Dean as he grew older. He remembers when he was twelve and got back to his feet after his seventh crash landing, this time from a young bronc. He was a horseman now, because he got up beaming, and brushed the dirt from his jeans. Every time when life beat him down, he did the same. Sadly, Mom wasn’t there to see her son become a horseman. She was long gone by the time he reached that age, but her life lessons will never be forgotten. Life is filled with setbacks. No one walks this journey without encountering them. For some that one setback is enough reason to give up and never become good at anything, for others, it’s a way to push through. And yes, getting up and trying again is not easy. But Mom taught him to look fear in the eye and get back in the saddle anyway, because quitting will definitely not get him anywhere. Whenever he hit the ground, literally or metaphorically, he would think of that memory. Now is no different. Mom was right; he has to face what scares him in order to grow.

    Dean slows down his horse, pulling the bit just enough to stop Ted, giving the horse behind him a chance to catch up. When Joplin comes alongside, he glances at the rider from under his Stetson.     “Hello, Cowboy,” she greets, a small but delighted smile on her lips.     Dean chuckles at that, his eyes not leaving hers.     “Hey, beautiful,” he returns.     The compliment brightens her eyes even more and heats up her cheeks. The trail barely allows the two of them to ride side by side, their stirrups touching occasionally. He aches for her knee to brush his like he would crave rain after a long desert ride. When the denim of her jeans does rub against him, it leaves him electrified. And then he realizes that Benny is right, too. It is better to love and to lose, than to not have loved at all.

Thank you for reading! I appreciate every single one of you, but if you do want to give me some extra love, you are free to reblog my work or buy me coffee (Link in bio at the top of the page)

Read part eleven here

[angelicthor]

billion dollar man - part 1

pairing: tony stark x reader

summary:  after mounting bills and debt cause you to look at alternative means of making money, you’re thrown into a whole different kind of life when one of the most famous billionaires on the block offers to be your sugar daddy, of course in exchange for a different from of payment. non-superhero au.

warnings/genre: +18 only, sugarbaby/daddy relationship

masterlist | billion dollar man masterlist 

One more ‘final notice’ bill was all it took. The final straw: the one that broke the camel’s back. You were done. Post-college life was nothing like you anticipated, no amount of degrees was going to change the absolute dryness of the job market and you were beyond finished with working yourself to the bone to pay off your debts and bills and still not have enough money to make it through the month.

You had graduated from law school with expectations of landing your dream job but life had other ideas; you had shining recommendation letters from your professors, you’d passed the Bar exam with flying colours and you’d completed god knows how many internships over the years you were in school in different law firms to gain experience – though the only experience you really did gain was learning how some hot-shot lawyer liked his coffee – and it still wasn’t enough to land you a job at a law firm. Then there was the unfortunate incident with your ex which put you in a more than unfortunate position and did nothing to help your career ambitions. Instead, you were stuck waitressing in the dinner a couple of blocks away from your apartment in Brooklyn; the pay was pitiful, and you mainly relied on tips from some of the rudest customers you’d ever known.

Enough was enough, staring at the blaring red letters printed on the front of the envelope you recalled a rather alcohol-induced conversation with an old college friend you had a couple of weeks ago regarding how she managed to fund her college experience – she was a sugar baby. At the time it seemed a ridiculous idea, I mean people surely didn’t do this did they? But she’d convinced you it was a completely legitimate way of making ends meet and right now you were running out of options.

Later that night you stared at the blaring screen of your laptop that was in dire need of an upgrade, the login screen to the website your friend told you about sat staring at you, daring you to make a move. Taking a deep breath, you tried to steady your nerves; you were just signing up – relax, this wasn’t a solid commitment to anything, you’d be fine. After plugging in your details, you were rerouted to a page showcasing potential ‘daddies’, it was basically a dating site and that helped put your mind at ease, you browsed through the profiles and decided that it wasn’t the worst idea, especially when you saw the kind of money they were offering. It wasn’t something you could pass-up, not anymore.

After finishing your profile, you searched for someone who you thought might be compatible, who would agree to your terms. Even though you were more than willing to sleep with whoever you chose - a girl has needs after all and to say it had been a while for you would be an understatement - you didn’t want to be anyone’s lover, no deep emotional attachment was to be involved at all. You were looking for no more than a friends-with-benefits type of relationship, with your benefits mainly being in the form of green bills.  

Most of the profiles, you discovered, had usernames to keep their identities anonymous until they could trust someone enough to reveal themselves. It made sense really, to have the kind of money spare that they were offering, they were probably high profile and this wouldn’t help in the publicity area. Babble Babe would eat these kinds of stories alive, you could almost see the headlines on the notoriously nosey website now; Infamous Millionaires caught buying their dates!

You couldn’t help but wonder if any of the profiles you’d seen had been people you’d heard off on the Upper East Side, the ones that constantly ended up spread across the pages of Babble Babe for their latest exploits.

Over the next week, you messaged multiple profiles to try and strike up conversation with someone to see if you could click, although you weren’t looking for love you sure as hell had to make sure you had some connection to them if you were going to be spending copious amounts of time together – not to mention potentially sleeping together.

One profile you were messaging stood out above all the rest, he wouldn’t tell you his name claiming it to be so high profile you’d instantly recognise him – you had to roll your eyes at this but then considered he could actually be right. His username, iron_man, had you beyond confused at who he could be but that didn’t matter; you both discovered you were after the same thing, he needed someone to show off in public with the appearance of a partner, you needed money and nothing more – neither of you were looking for anything beyond that arrangement. However, ‘iron_man’ made one thing explicitly clear, he was expecting sex to be part of the agreement, something that he promised you’d enjoy. Again, cue eye roll.

You continued messaging him to get a better sense of his character, the messages the only thing you knew about him (apart from the other very obvious basics; he was obscenely rich and lived in New York), you found him to be quite funny, if not a little cocky and big-headed but hey, he had the money, right? He could be whoever the hell he wanted. You could tell he was intelligent and if you were being honest with yourself he was kind of charming - that was until his smug self-assuredness shone through.  

He had requested you send a picture of yourself to make sure he wasn’t being catfished or anything of the sort and you provided him with one, albeit nervously, you were afraid he may reject you after seeing your picture. However, ‘iron_man’ shocked you once more with his bold flirtatious nature: the three dots appearing, letting you know he was typing before his message came through.

    -  Damn baby, can’t wait to see that in person. 

You couldn’t help but laugh at him, you’d adapted to his sense of humour in the days you’d been messaging and to be honest with yourself, you genuinely thought he was funny. This could actually work. When you asked for a picture he refused, saying he couldn’t risk it and that only piqued your curiosity on who it was you were talking to.

Eventually mystery-man asked to meet you, asking if you could make it to Visions – one of New York’s fanciest and most expensive restaurants – at seven that Friday. You had expected him to at least reveal his name to you at this point, how else would you be able to meet him in the restaurant with no picture or no name? Surely, he wasn’t that famous that you’d recognise him by name? The only response you got to your questions was his cryptic response: You’ll know who I am. Trust me, I’ll sort everything out, just be there by seven.

You agreed even though the idea had butterflies erupting in your stomach as your nerves flourished, the reality of the situation beginning to sink in.

What if you met and you didn’t like him? What if he was really a dick and managed to fool you? What if it was too awkward in reality to work? What if, what if, what if.

So many questions rushed through your mind until you’d had enough, silencing the anxiety crashing through you. You’d never know if it was feasible unless you tried, right? And if it didn’t it didn’t, no harm done, but the money being offered was too much, too needed, for you to not try. And so Friday night you dressed up in your best dress, which wasn’t nearly as high-end as everyone else would probably be wearing, this was a lavish place after all and everyone would probably be wearing something that cost more than your apartment was worth.

As you sat on the subway – there was no way you could afford a taxi from your Brooklyn apartment to Manhattan – your heart began to pound, your hands becoming clammy as everything sank in. You were about to meet up with complete stranger you’d found on the internet in hopes he’d provide you with money in exchange for a fake relationship. Sweet Jesus what am I doing?

Reminding yourself of your growing pile of bills at home, the idea of being homeless on the streets of New York far scarier than anything that could possibly go wrong with mystery man, you willed yourself to enter the restaurant, immediately feeling out of place at the pure opulence of the building.

Approaching the maître d, you couldn’t help but feel the unimpressed looks shot your way: you were so out of place and everybody there knew it. Any normal day, you wouldn’t have taken a single dirty look shot your way, but you highly doubted whoever you were meeting would have been impressed by your antics. Besides, if this went well you’d have to put up with New York’s snobbiest regularly – might as well start practising, right?

The tuxedo-clad man arched an eyebrow at your figure and you successfully fought back the roll of your eyes. Before you could open your mouth, he was plucking a menu from the station in front of him: “If you’ll follow me this way, ma’am.”

You trailed after him as he expertly manoeuvred through the tables, leading you to a more secluded part of the restaurant, towards a table in the back where a man sat. An extremely recognisable man. You’d never seen him in person before but that billion-dollar smile had been plastered on enough newspapers and magazine covers for you to know who it was.

Well, I guess he was right.

You did know who he was. Everyone did.

Tony fucking Stark.

a/n: i don’t have a tag list but if you want alerts please follow @angelicthorwrites and turn on notifications

[imagine-avengers]

Biker Part Three- Bucky Barnes Series

3/10 This is part three of my Biker Bucky series. The part one and two can be found on my masterlist, as will the other parts once they come out!

The next few days had flown by. As promised Bucky sent over Scott Lang, their new Security guy, or new to Elizabeth at least and her security system was hooked up. Scott had given Elizabeth the code and a key to the new locks he had made and mentioned that Bucky requested a key and the code which Elizabeth waved him off knowing Bucky would end up with it either way. Elizabeth spent time around her house getting everything set up and finally finished unpacking with the help of Peggy, Wanda, and Natasha on Wednesday night, along with three bottles of wine between the four of them, luckily Steve was able to walk and get Peggy and Natasha and Wanda ended up spending the night in the guest bedroom as the third room was now Elizabeth’s office space, where she could work on the book she had been writing. It wasn’t until Saturday that Elizabeth had ventured anywhere, having to go get groceries seemed to be a hassle. Her car refused to start while trying to leave for the store. With a groan she decided her best bet was to call Bucky or Steve, or maybe Clint as he owned the mechanic shop that the Howling Commandos frequented. Elizabeth picked up her phone and dialed Clint’s work number. The phone rang and rang and finally a voice answered.

“Barton’s Mechanics, this is Peter.”  A voice spoke into the phone that Elizabeth hadn’t recognized.

“Is Clint there?” Elizabeth asked pacing in front of the car.

“He’s not can I take a message?” The man asked as Elizabeth groaned.

“Who’s there?” She asked. “Who’s working today?”

“Uh,” The kid paused.

“Kid, Peter, come on.” She groaned.

“Sam and Mr. Barnes.” He stated timidly.

“Put Barnes on, tell him it’s Liz.” There was a pause before the phone was picked up.

“What’s going on?” Bucky’s voice came through the phone.

“Car won’t start, been having issues with the starter for a while now.” She stated rubbing her head as she leaned against her driver side door. “You think you could take a look at it for me?” She asked.

“Yeah, give me ten and Sam and I will be on our way to come get it. You good?” He asked.

“Yeah thanks Buck.” Her voice was soft. “Anyway, I could come too? I’m getting stir crazy here, and I kinda need food.”

“Sweets, you think I’d leave you carless?” Bucky chuckled. “I got you, I’ll be there in ten. Peter, get Wilson tell him we need the truck.” Elizabeth headed back towards her front yard. “I’ll be there soon okay.” He stated.

“Alright, thanks Buck, see you soon.” Elizabeth hung up and moved through the house grabbing her things. After ten minutes she heard the truck and Bucky’s motorcycle come down the street. Walking out of the house she locked the doors and set the alarm and tossed the keys towards Bucky.

“I told you years ago to scrap this piece of shit.” Bucky mentioned as Elizabeth laughed.

“Yeah I know, sentimental value Buck.” She mentioned with a small smile. “You know damn well how I feel about this car.” She stated noticing Sam hooking the car up to the truck.

-

“Who’s been working on it the past five years?” Bucky asked an hour later as they stood inside the garage, his body leaning over the car.

“Some mechanic in DC.” She shrugged. “It broke down a few times, nothing major.” She knew Bucky hadn’t liked anyone but himself, Clint, or Steve working on her cars.

“Well your starters shot, you need new spark plugs, and your engine is on its last leg.” Bucky stated looking at her as he wiped his hands on a rag. “Not worth fixing to be honest.” Elizabeth sighed.

“I don’t have the money to buy a new car Buck.” Elizabeth groaned. “Hell, I don’t even have a fucking job, my savings is dwindling,”

“Elizabeth.” Buck said touching her shoulders to stop her pacing. “Breathe.” He told her. “I never said you had to buy a new car.” He stated. “I can fix it if you really want me to, but it isn’t worth it.” He stated. “But I have the truck you can use.”

“James.” She said sighing and running a hand through her hair. “You know I can’t do that.”

“Lizzie, I’m not letting you go without a car. I don’t want to fix this one because who knows how long it’ll run; it’ll give me peace of mind if you’re driving a vehicle, I know is safe for you.” He stated as Elizabeth bit her lip before nodding slightly.

“Fine.” She mumbled. “But only until I can afford a car.” She told him sternly as she glanced at the car that she had had since she was sixteen. “How much do I owe you for the tow?” She asked as they headed back towards the office so Bucky could find the keys to the truck that sat in the back-parking lot.

“Don’t worry about it Liz.” Clint’s voice came from standing by the young boy, maybe sixteen, at the reception desk.

“Clint.” Elizabeth’s voice was stern. “I’m paying for the tow.”

“You’re family Liz.” Clint stated pulling the keys to the truck off the hook and tossing them to Bucky. “Needs an oil change and breaks.” He stated looking back at Liz. “This is Peter, Tony and Peppers kid.” Clint nodded towards the boy whom was adopted by Tony Stark and his wife Pepper years ago after his parents, their best friends, passed away.

“Little Peter? You were like ten last time I saw you.” She asked with a laugh. “How’s Tony and Pep?” She asked as Bucky went to check on the truck.

“They’re alright.” Peter stated.

“Elizabeth Smith.” She shook the boy’s hand. “Heard you’re a big brother now, Morgan, right?” She asked as Peter nodded. “Ran into Happy a few months back.” Elizabeth mentioned. “Said you’re wicked smart.” Peter blushed and nodded. “Well it’s nice to see you again.” Elizabeth stated looking towards Clint. “How’s the wife and kids Barton?” She asked leaning against the counter and scrolling through her phone to order lunch for everyone at the shop.

“Good, good, just had Nathaniel.” He stated.

“After Nat?” She teased mentioning how he named his son after his best friend. “When am I gonna get a kid named after me?” She asked pouting as she heard Steve’s bike coming in. “Rogers I want a baby named after me; better tell Peggy you’re having another!” Steve’s bike turned off and he took his helmet off.

“You better tell her yourself. If I mention a baby to that woman, I swear she’ll cut my dick off.” He stated tossing the helmet towards Peter. Elizabeth laughed at the man and shook her head.

“Well someone better name a baby after me.” She mumbled.

“Name your own kid after yourself.” Sam stated heading over to the front desk and pulling out paperwork for a woman who was walking in after he fixed her car.

“And who the hell am I having a kid with?” She asked smiling over at the woman.

“Well I’m available.” Sam smirked as he handed the woman the papers to sign.

“Watch yourself Wilson!” Bucky called from under the truck. “If anyone is having kids with her it’s me!” Elizabeth groaned and hid her face.

“I vote to have kids with neither of you.” She mumbled as Steve chuckled heading over to the coffee pot and pouring a cup.

“Come on Lizzie, you’re not getting any younger.” He teased as Elizabeth picked up a pen and tossed it at his head.

“Shut the fuck up. Pour me a cup of that please.” She said as the women began reading over the papers. Steve poured a second cup of coffee for Elizabeth before he started a new pot. “Thanks Stevie. Also, fat chance of me ever having kids.” She mentioned before the group stood around talking for a bit and eventually five boxes of pizza arrived paid for by Elizabeth. After a half hour Bucky had ended up coming back over towards her and taking her cup of coffee. “I was drinking that.” She stated as Bucky reached for the pizza on her plate. “And eating that.” She mumbled watching Bucky eat her pizza.

“Eh you can share.” Bucky smirked at her before hearing Steve’s phone ring.

“Rogers.” Steve answered before glancing at Bucky. “No, no leave it Nat. We’re on our way. Natasha.” Steve growled. “Bucky and I will be there in five.” He stated hanging up. “We gotta go, Sam take Lizzie and Peter to my place, Clint you’re with us. We’re closing up.” Steve stated moving towards his bike as Bucky moved towards Steve, the two mumbling together before Bucky turned towards Elizabeth.

“I’ll pick you up, stay with Peggy, for the love of god Elizabeth, do not leave Steve’s.” Bucky stated as Elizabeth sighed.

“Buck, I live four houses down.” She whined.

“Elizabeth.” His voice hardened as he gave her a look that she knew meant not to argue with him.

“Fine.” She sighed and nodded. “I’ll wait with Peggy.” She stated. Bucky and Steve left leaving Elizabeth with Clint, Sam, and Peter. Sam drove both Peter and Elizabeth over to Peggy’s where the three waited for hours, Peggy had long since put the kids to bed and Peter had fallen asleep on the couch, and Sam took the liberty of calling Peter’s Aunt May to let her know he’d be staying with Steve. Meanwhile Elizabeth had been pacing for the last three hours.

“Elizabeth stop with the pacing.” Peggy stated from her spot on the chair with her book.

“You know I don’t like being out of the loop Peg.” She stated turning to Peggy. “You know that look Steve gives when shit is going down and he normally tells you to go to the cabin?” She asked as Peggy nodded. “That’s the look I got from Bucky.” She told her best friend with a sigh. Peggy closed her book as Sam looked up from his phone.

“Love, you know that’s the look that Bucky gives you no matter what.” Peggy stated as Elizabeth shook her head. “I’m teasing love, everything’ll be fine.”

“Don’t worry Liz, they got this.” Sam stated as Elizabeth fell to the chair with a sigh. Another few hours passed and by then it was three in the morning. Elizabeth was wide awake, while Peggy had gone to bed around one and Sam was knocked out sitting in the chair with his arms crossed. Sam phone had begun ringing causing Elizabeth to groan.

“Sam.” She stated nudging him with her foot. “Sammy.” She whined causing him to groan and mumble a small ‘what’. “Your phone is ringing, answer it.” Sam’s eyes opened and he answered the phone.

“Wilson.” He was quiet for a minute. “Mhh, got it.” He glanced at Elizabeth a moment. “Nah she’s still here.” Sam rubbed his eyes and sighed. “Man, she ain’t gonna sleep until you get here.” At that point Elizabeth had known that Sam was talking to Bucky.

“Let me talk to him.” Elizabeth held her hand towards Sam, who ignored her.

“Man, you serious?” Sam sat up straighter. “No, I got it.” He stated. “No no, Peter passed out and Peggy is upstairs with the kids sleeping.” Sam hummed a few times. “Yep, bye.” Hanging up without giving Elizabeth the phone causing her to glare at him. “There’s been a complication, nothing bad, just not gonna be back until early in the afternoon, said you should sleep.” Sam stated as Elizabeth huffed crossing her arms.

It wasn’t until around two that afternoon that Steve and Bucky arrive at Steve and Peggy’s. Elizabeth had been in the kitchen with Peter and Emma teaching them how to bake her famous butterscotch brownies while Sam was playing with JJ and Peggy was doing housework. Steve and Bucky walked in as if they hadn’t been out all night, Emma ran towards her dad whilst JJ ran towards his namesake, both men immediately picking up the kids.

“Pete, Tony got you a ticket home, Sam’s gonna drive you to the airport.” Steve stated. “He needs your help at home. Thanks for the intel.” Steve stated motioning Sam to do as he said, both guys left leaving Elizabeth glaring slightly at Bucky as Steve took the kids to find Peggy.

“Hey.” Bucky said softly causing Elizabeth to roll her eyes.

“Hey? That’s all you have to say James? I’ve been stuck in this house for almost twenty- four hours.” She huffed crossing her arms. “I hate not being in the know, you know this.” She stated as Bucky leaned against the counter.

“I know.” He spoke as Elizabeth looked him over. “Come on, lets go talk at your place.” He stated but Elizabeth shook her head.

“No.” Running a hand through her hair. “Just reassure me you’re not hurt, and I can go home.” Bucky did just as she said and proceeded to walk her home, promising to come and drop the truck off the next day.

[seriestrash]

Chapter One

- Banner by the amazing @punzellies -

Summary: TJ Kippen walks through life looking out for number one because nobody else seemed to. When an unlikely friendship sparks new feelings, TJ’s outlook on everything begins to change.

Note: This is an AU. Most of this will be explained in the story but a here’s a quick summary of the main changes: TJ and Cyrus met during the muffin scene but never reconnected after that. The kids are now all in high school. GHC and co. are sophomores whilst Amber and Iris are juniors. 

(read on ao3)

Chapter One 

Word Count: 1662

✗ ✗ ✗

It’s the last day of summer vacation before TJ officially becomes a student at Grant High School. To round off the break in a way that poetically reflects how the summer has gone for TJ, the rain pours down outside. 

TJ sits alone at a table situated at the back of The Spoon in a position where he can see everyone in the diner without anyone really noticing him. TJ has his headphones plugged in but with the music low enough that he could still clearly hear everything going on around him. TJ often did this, he liked to be aware but he also wore them because it tended to make people leave him alone. 

Even though TJ could hear everything clearly, he still pretends like he didn’t notice his cousin approach the table. It’s not until she forcefully yanks the cord - pulling the headphones from TJ’s ears completely - that he looks up from his phone.

“What do you want, Amber?” TJ grumbles. 

“Nice to see you too, cousin.” Amber exaggerates her smile. “I was on my break and I didn’t see you come in.” Amber explains. 

“I didn’t think you were working, if I’d known you were, I wouldn't have come in.” TJ exaggerates his smile too, mimicking his cousin. 

“Did you come from work?” Amber asks, choosing to ignore TJ’s jerky behaviour. 

“No, I wear this for fun.” TJ quips sarcastically as he motions to his Jackson Street Gym t-shirt. “I was walking home but it started raining.” 

“Wasn’t your mom picking you up today?” Amber questions, continuing to ignore his snarkiness. 

“I guess she forgot me.” TJ shrugs, “That’s been happening a lot lately.” 

"Maybe Aunt Tess was just busy,” Amber smiles sympathetically, “I finish work in an hour, want me to drive you home? I could try slip you some free fries while you wait.” 

“I don’t want your sympathy fries or your ride home.” TJ rejects grumpily.

“I’m just trying to be nice. No need to be such a jerk about it.” Amber huffs. “Walk home in the rain. See if I care.” 

TJ did just that, staunching out of the diner with a huff of his own. Luckily for the teen though, the rain had started to clear up so the walk wasn’t actually too bad. Eventually it stopped completely and the sun even poked through the gray clouds.  

With the weather change, TJ decides to walk through the park even though it adds an extra five minutes onto his trip. As TJ is passing the swing set he spots a somewhat familiar face singing a mopey song as he swings.

TJ usually ignored this kind of thing and kept to himself or he’d be the kind of guy to poke fun at it and he kind of does just that when he approaches and comments, “Nice song, what do you sing when you’re on the slide?” 

The boy stops swinging and answers with another rhyme, to which TJ can’t help but let out a faint laugh as he hadn’t actually expected him to have a song.

“I know you,” TJ says a little uncertain, “Chocolate, chocolate chip muffin right?”

“And you’re scary basketball guy.” He says with a hint of a smile on his confused face. 

TJ’s expression drops, although the boy had said it with a smile it felt like an insult nonetheless. “Actually, TJ.” 

“I know. Cyrus.” He points to himself. “I can’t believe you remember the muffin thing, that was like two years ago.”

TJ shrugs it off casually. “Didn’t you move to London or something?” 

“It was more in the country.” Cyrus explains, “But basically yeah. I’m back now though. For good.”

“When did you get back?” TJ asks. 

“Today.” Cyrus beams. 

“And your first stop was the park?” TJ raises a brow. 

“Swinging makes me feel better about things.” Cyrus admits. 

“You’re not happy to be back?” TJ questions. 

“More anxious.” Cyrus explains. “I’m kind of battling with a big decision.” 

“Like what shirt you’re going to wear for the first day?” TJ playfully teases. 

“Please,” Cyrus coaxes his head with a smirk, “I decided that two weeks ago.” 

TJ chuckles but eventually the laughter fades, he looks at Cyrus with a subtly curious expression, “So does it help?” TJ asks. “The swinging?”

“It helps me.” Cyrus nods, “Why don't you try?” He suggests, “It could just be the rain dampened look but you kinda seem like you need it.” 

TJ considered just walking away, he had already stayed longer than he planed - which was not at all - but before he even realised what he was doing, TJ took to the swing beside Cyrus. 

TJ begins kicking his legs back and forth, the momentum builds and he’s quickly swinging high, a smile building on his face, “Wow, this does kinda make me feel better.” 

“I told you,” Cyrus smiles as he swings at a slower pace. “There’s something about feeling like a kid that makes your problems feel not so important. What do you need to feel better about anyway?” 

“You don't know me. I got stuff.” TJ swings. 

“Betcha I got more stuff.” Cyrus almost jokes. 

“Betcha I can swing higher.” TJ challenges.

“I’m afraid to swing high, that’s part of my stuff.” Cyrus admits. 

TJ continues to try and bait Cyrus into swinging higher but when the boy continues to reject the idea, TJ jumps off his swing and a childhood game ensues. 

“That was exhilarating!” Cyrus exclaims and TJ watches Cyrus’ swing slow with a smile. 

“Feel better about your upcoming decision yet?” TJ questions. 

“I think so.” Cyrus laughs, “How about you, do you feel better?” 

“Yeah. I really do.” TJ smiles, swinging really had made him feel better but acknowledging that out loud again changed TJ’s mood, like a subconscious reminder went off about how he shouldn't feel that way. His expression drops, “I should probably get going.”

“You don’t have to.” Cyrus stops his swinging completely. 

“I still have to decide what shirt to wear.” TJ jokes. 

“Avoid red.” Cyrus continues the bit, “I find it too angry for a first day.” 

TJ lets his laugh taper off, “Thanks for reminding me about swinging.”

“You’re welcome.” Cyrus nods. “See you at school tomorrow, not so scary basketball guy?” 

“Sure thing, underdog.” TJ says almost sarcastically and it wasn’t meant in a malicious way, TJ just couldn’t imagine they’d have much reason to be in each others lives after this. 

After the swings, TJ makes his way home and on the way it began to lightly rain, getting him all damp again. TJ enters his apartment quietly, gently placing his keys on the hook by the door. 

“Teej, is that you?” His mothers voice trails down the hall.

“Yeah, it’s me.” TJ calls back. Silently he wonders what his mom would do if it wasn’t him. The chances of the person at the door -letting themselves in- being someone else were slim, after all it was just the two of them that lived there.

“I’m in the kitchen.” Tess announces. 

TJ zips up his still slightly damp jacket and finds his mom as promised, in the kitchen, stacks of boxes scattered about. 

“Sweets, you’re all damp.” Tess points out with a confused expression. “Has it been raining today?” 

“A bit.” TJ nods casually. 

“Where have you been all day?” Tess questions, “You shouldn’t be out in the rain, you can’t afford to get sick with high school just beginning.” 

“It’s fine, I was inside.” TJ states. 

Realisation crosses over his mothers face and her expression falls to guilt, “I was supposed to pick you up from work.” Tess slaps her palm to her forehead. “Why didn't you call me?” 

“I figured you forgot.” TJ shrugs. “It’s okay, I don’t mind walking.”

“Teej, I’m so sorry.” Tess apologises, “I didn’t mean to forget. I got distracted-” 

“Packing up our life, I know.” TJ cuts in bitterly. 

“Teej,” Tess frowns, “I know you don’t want to move but it’s not like it’s across the country. You’ll still be right here in Shadyside. The house will be bigger and there’s yard space. I’ll make sure you can set up a hoop right in the backyard.” 

“I don’t care about a big house or a stupid hoop.” TJ snaps, “This is our home, mom. Our memories are here.”

“Sweets, those memories will always be with you.” Tess soothes, “You don’t need this tiny apartment to keep them alive.” 

“You’re right, so why bother keeping half this junk anyway?” TJ angrily pushes a  box off the counter and dishes smash in the aftermath. 

“TJ!” Tess gasps. 

“I’m going to my room.” TJ states. 

“Dinner will be here soon, I ordered pizza.” Tess tries to defuse her sons anger. 

“I’m not hungry.” TJ grumbles as he leaves his upset looking mother behind him. 

TJ retreats into his room tossing his wet jacket and shirt to the side before putting on something dry. Just as he pulls the new sweatshirt over his head he catches a glimpse of something on his desk. It’s a new set of pencils with a post it note attached that reads, ‘love mom’ with a simple stick figure drawing of the two of them. TJ smiles at the gift and basic drawing, he had been needing new pencils for a while now. The thoughtful gift made him feel guilty for being such a jerk to his mother but TJ was stubborn and still angry that he was being forced to move so he stands firm about hiding away in his room for the evening.

TJ flops down at this desk, his unfinished summer reading staring him right in the face but instead of picking up the syllabus, he reaches for his new pencils and his old sketchpad. 

The time ticks by and as the sun sets on the final day of summer break, TJ fills the page with a drawing of two boys on a swing. 

✗ ✗ ✗

End Notes (pls read): Okay just a short little chapter to get us started. The next one is longer, I promise :) 

I noted a few changes at the top but here are a couple more changes explained further that were mentioned in the chapter;

- Kippen cousins (kinda): 

I am not really a Kippen sibling fan. I like the HC, it’s fun but too far from cannon for me personally. But!! I like the idea of their grumpy dynamic so I’m using it but putting my own spin on it - therefore cousins rather than siblings. (Also not having Amber be his sister works a lot better for this story). 

TJ’s mom and Amber’s dad are brother and sister. Amber’s last name is Brown (as some people tag her as such I can’t remember where this last name came from tbh.. I think it was Josh?). TJ’s mom’s maiden name is Brown but TJ is Kippen because of his father. Hope that’s easy enough to follow :) 

- Cyrus moved to England 

Soon after the muffin escapes and before their on screen swing set scene, Cyrus moved to England. Cyrus attended a fancy boarding school but more on that in future chapters. 

Since Cyrus moved away, TJ and him never really bonded fully after the muffin scene. This change will have impacted both their lives (as I’m a firm believer that people impact who we become) so you will see changes - or changes that never happened - with both of them.

OKAY. There will be a few tweaks to canon here and there but you should all be able to follow along each chapter easily enough!! 

Now to address, swing set new.0; I wasn’t even going to have TJ and Cyrus re-meet this chapter - I had a sort of different prologue planned but scrapped it - and their re-meet was never planned to be on the swings again but I do believe in fate and the swings really sparked their bond so I wanted to revisit that in my story whilst expanding on it to fit their new character dynamics. 

I would like to mention that whilst some parts of my story might include canon tyrus moments reimagined, I won't just be rewriting canon. I plan to incorporate the canon tyrus essence into this story but this story is something new and different. It will not be the tyrus we know but in high school. 

SOOOO, that’s a lot more wordy than usual for my end notes! Yikes! 

I hope you enjoyed this first instalment! More to come! :) I don’t have a planned posting schedule but I hope to release one chapter a week at least!! So ask about the tag list to keep updated! :)

Please let me know your thoughts, likes, reblogs, replies - they are all welcomed and very much appreciated! 

Tag List

- If you would like to be added or removed at any time please feel free to message me -  

@green-lemonboys @thorffour @marvelous-me-always @jonahsbeck @tyrusmagocious @deductionbattles @muffin-duo-xviii @perpetualtyrus @livelovelaugh456 @istillwearyourdenimjacket @thedampjofangirl @protectpetersimmonds @paytonotinthemood @i-am-beyoutiful @cereal-fan @differentandstupidhuman @luzawithoutu  @thefaeriemagic3 @arvinarvox32 @justyouraveragefangiri @someone-get-a-medic @ilovemyredgayson @thebisexualweirdo @amazingpartytattoos @justsay-love @andi-man @spacejellyyfish @ciniluv @amfcndom @bambiandambi @rilaya-tyrus @awkwardlonerkid @moonlightrush @tyruscrack @i-dont-do--sadness @jarolddaiii @tjgoodkippen

[darkestangel1326]

Prologue - This was real life. Right?

Hey lovelies. So I know it is likely no one is going to read this but me but I just had to write this anyway. For me. Posting for the same reason! Fic under the “Keep reading” cut, but here’s how I got here: 

This all started when I wondered what would happen if MC was a scientist. Or a science grad student. But then I thought, what would be enough to compel a scientist or science grad student to stop their sciencing realistically for any amount of time? Because as my previous PI says, every scientist becomes a mad scientist at least in one point in their careers for their research - this is especially true for grad students. 

Then, I just never understood the whole returning a phone excuse Unknown gave MC to lure her into Rika’s apartment. Like MC, with her own phone, is gonna return a phone she doesn’t even have, just because Unknown was persistent? He even says he’s a student in the States who will eventually return home so what was with the urgency to go to find the owner? If he really wanted to return the phone, he could’ve mailed it since he has the address right? We know he does because he sends MC there. It just always bothered me.

Finally, I wanted to slightly self-insert to make the MC (Emme C.) a bit more human so that it even if you couldn’t change her choices, it would still be entertaining. I heavily relied on second person, to help give it the mystic messenger vibe though I’m not sure it works.

This prologue is some character building for Emme C. (Actual name: Emme Cee), brief OC appearances and, for my sanity, this is all taking place in the US. TBH I’m not even sure how deep I want to go with this story. I just know I needed to write it. 

 So without further ado!

“My biggest fear and why? Hmmm,” you mulled it over and took another sip of your beer, after your lab mates glared at you for an answer. 

Or former labmates - you were leaving for grad school in a few weeks so this was kind of your farewell social. Even with your general distaste of beer, even you had to admit this one was really good. 

You closed your eyes and sheepishly rubbed your neck. “This is gonna sound weird but a time loop,” you answered hesitantly.  “It just makes me uneasy to be stuck in never-ending cycle, replaying the same scenario over and over again with no end in sight.”

“True but we are in academic research!” Marie answered, a teasing lilt to her voice that transformed into a chuckle. 

“Yeah you might have to deal with it during your Masters program, especially the thesis stage.” Whitney continued, joining in with a laugh.

“Don’t remind me,” you giggled as you took another sip - a longer sip - of your beer. “But that’s not exactly what I mean either” you persisted, a bit more seriously. 

I’m afraid of replaying the same day, the same events, the same interactions over and over again, not knowing why or how to stop it,” you finished more seriously. You took another sip of the fizzy drink and felt your equilibrium teeter a bit. 

“You mean like that movie Groundhog Day?” Aurora quietly inserted.

“I haven’t seen that movie but if it’s like what I said, then yes, that’s it,” you answered, your fizzy drink now gone. 

“Sorry wait. Why are you afraid of time loops? I think I missed that part. Wouldn’t replaying the same day and seeing how your choices change events be a good thing?” Sally asked. Technically, she was completely right - repeatability was one of the sacred ideals of science after all. Plus, If you really thought about it, you hadn’t actually said why you’re afraid of time loops, just that you are.

“I’m afraid of never moving forward - of never progressing, no matter how hard I try or work. A time loop means, yes, I’ll know what my choices would entail, but not how to escape or what the triggering event for my release could be. I could replay the time period of the same few weeks but for years without knowing how to escape and move on. And, I guess, since it took me so long to even start my Master’s and I felt like I might never be able to, this fear was just born,” you admitted, pouring more beer for yourself. 

I mean an actual time loop where every single thing happens the exact same way, down to the underlying rhythm of conversation. And where you can’t escape until you figure out the common problem then fix it. How would you escape it? And what if you mess up, in different ways, forever? Who would want that?!

—————————————————————————

You awoke with a sigh, realizing you had that dream again. Or was it a flashback since this happened a few weeks ago? You shrugged your shoulders and got to work sorting boxes. You were set to start on-campus work in a few weeks so you were just trying to do the bare minimum research wise. Plus, you wanted to really focus on decorating your new apartment and get acquainted with the town since you’d be living there for the next few years. 

After a few hours of scrambling and organizing, you sat on the floor (you were still in the process of buying furniture), and looked at your emails. 

One in particular caught your attention, so much so that you took off your glasses and rubbed your eyes, almost laughing at such a cartoony response. The subject line of this email was what confused you. It read “missing research paper - need citation”. It was an unfamiliar email, moreover, it was sent to your previous college email, which was linked to your past research publications.

Curious, you bit the inside of your cheek and read the email. 

“Dear Emme, 

Hope this email finds you well. I am a student from XXX University and have been working on a research project concerning XXX. Your research was one of the most recent and prominent examples as to why this area needs further study, however, I have not been able to access the paper I saved as a bookmark in my web browser. After extensive searching, I have been unable to find the original paper or even one of the articles that referenced it - almost as if the article has completely disappeared from existence! Is there a reason the research article is gone? If not, could you provide me with an idea of where it is and the proper citation for my research article?”

what. whAT. WHAT!?

Your research couldn’t be gone! This didn’t make any sense! Yes it was a few years old, but it couldn’t be gone from the web! There are research papers from the 1960s that are archived and accessible online for goodness sake!

You had to calm down. Take deep breaths. You continued trying to breathe as you pulled out your research flash drive. You looked for the paper on your there and found it, sighing in relief. It grounded you, reminding you that your work did exist. Just as you were set to attach the file and corresponding citation to the email, your internet stopped. 

Scratch that, your entire laptop stopped. 

You groaned. Yes, this was an older, refurbished model, but it’s been working fine. The screen distorted for a second, as if the extra pixel boxes emphasized the frozen nature of your screen. Before you even had time to process it, your laptop unfroze and you breathed a sigh of relief. 

Thank heavens. You had just moved and weren’t sure you could realistically afford a new laptop anytime soon. As you look over your screen, however, your relief shifts to panic. 

omg. oMG. OMG!

It’s gone. Your research files. The ones on your laptop and on your flash drive. The email is gone. Before you can refresh the page you get logged out. You can’t even log into your old email account - Error 404 Not Found. 

Your heart races. Then, it aches. You worked so hard on those projects. They were part of your scientific fabric and now both were just gone. Your years of work, gone in seconds. 

You felt like crying. But you decide not to, at least not until you’re in the shower where the tears can blend in with the cascading liquid as you sing emo music. 

For now, you decide a quick walk and some fresh air are what you need, so you grab your keys and head for the mailbox. You’ve only lived in this apartment for a week but you check the mail constantly in an effort to get in the habit rather than because you expect something. 

But today, you did get something. A small parcel with no return address. Curious, you take that and the grocery flyers to your apartment and open the package there. 

A phone? It’s from the same company as yours, just a slightly older model.

You blink at it, almost telepathically asking it what it’s doing in your mailbox. You decide to turn it in to the mail service and are about to put it back in its envelope when you notice a note. 

“Charge me” 

“What the hell is going on today?” You mutter as you pull out your charger and plug it into the phone.

You sit on the floor with this new phone in hand and sigh. “Why am I even taking orders from a mysterious note for anyway?”

Just then the screen lights up. There’s no passcode so opening the phone was super easy. The phone’s screen and minimal app selection almost made you think it was new, but the lack of setting it up told you that wasn’t the case. Who would buy this phone and not use it? And why did they send it to you? 

There is one app that calls to you, mostly because you’ve never seen it before. And because it was unlike the rest of the default apps on the screen.

RFA? What’s that?

Just then, the screen turns dark and green characters zoom up through the screen. You sucked with all tech but even you knew this reaction was abnormal. You swore you didn’t press the app but seeing the phone continue reacting, you become less confident. 

“Hello?” 

You stare at the screen. ‘Unknown’ was messaging you. 

You respond. Stupidly. Naively. And without thinking about the consequences. 

Because this was real life. Right?

What’s the worse that could happen?

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

I’m debating taking this next part a few routes...we’ll see what I decide...

If you, by any chance made it all the way down here, can you drop a reblog or something with your thoughts? Was Emme Cee likable? Did the flow make sense? Do you like where this is going? Let me know! 

[timehealsfanfictionbka]

Time Heals.....Chapter Forty-Three

“Welcome to Rome, Italy! Benvenuti a Roma Italia!”

 Chris groaned as the voice over the intercom woke him up. He ran his hand down his face and looked over at Robyn. She was dozing quietly, her ear plugs preventing her from hearing anything around her. He brushed some loose hair strands from her face then kissed her cheek. Robyn fidgeted a little before settling back into a comfortable spot. Chris chuckled then kissed her again. She swatted her hand in his direction but Chris just laughed and moved back, “Baby, it’s time to get up. We’re here.”

Robyn moaned, “stop it. leave me alone.”

“Don’t make that noise.”

Robyn opened up one eye to look at Chris then promptly closed it, “ain’t nobody trying to seduce you or nothing. Nasty ass.”

“Robyn, we’ve landed and are about to get off the plane.”

“When it’s our turn to get off, I’ll get up. That broad is still rambling. Leave me alone.”

Chris sighed as he started grabbing their bags and making sure they weren’t leaving anything behind. As the attendant stopped talking and started directing everyone to the exit, Chris gently bumped Robyn’s leg, “Babe, it’s time to go.’

Robyn sighed and slipped her sunglasses onto her face as she stood up, “when we get to the hotel, I am going to sleep. Don’t talk to me. Don’t touch me.”

“Well, that’s not a good start to a vacation.”

“Babe, I am tired. I just want to get into a bed and go to sleep. When my body and brain decide to work normal again, you can be up under me all you want.”

Chris pecked her lips, “I’m holding you to that.”

“Whatever.”

They exited the plane and went to find their baggage claim. Chris slowed his gait as he noticed Robyn lagging behind him, “you ok, Baby?”

“Still sleepy but I’m good.”

Chris saw there was chairs near their baggage claim, “you have a seat and I’ll wait for the bags to come around.”

“I can help.”

“Bajan, you can barely stand upright. Go sit down, I’ll be right here.”

Robyn kissed his cheek then went to sit down in a chair that was in his direct view. He smiled at her then turned his attention to the baggage claim conveyor belt. It took about 15 minutes before their suitcases came around. He grabbed both, set Robyn’s carryon bag on top of her suitcase then rolled both over to where Robyn was sitting. She was curled up in the chair, dozing lightly.

Chris chuckled to himself as he softly tapped her shoulder, “come on, Babe. We need to catch a ride to the hotel.”

Robyn yawned and stretched before standing up. She went to reach for her bag but Chris shook his head, “I got it. Just walk.”

They went to the exit leading to the taxi stands. Within a few moments, they were on their way to the hotel. Robyn leaned her head on his shoulder and entwined their hands together. Chris looked over at her then kissed her forehead, “you wanna eat before you go to sleep?”

“No, I don’t even know if my teeth work, I’m so tired.”

Chris chuckled, “so dramatic.”

“Oh hush. What time is it?”

“It’s a little after midnight here.”

“Way past my bedtime.”

“What are you? Five?”

“Nah, I’m old as shit with twin daughters. I can’t hang no more, you know that.”

“You can hang with me.”

“I take naps before we go out, if you didn’t know.”

“Even when I pick you up from work?”

“Especially then. I close my door for lunch and go straight to sleep.”

“Wow.”

“Don’t judge me, Sir.”

“I’m not judging. I’m just saying Wow.”

“Whatever. Wake me when we get there.”

“We already are,” Chris replied as he pointed out his window. Robyn squinted as she tried to adjust her eyesight to the lights of the marquee, “this place looks beautiful.”

“I don’t skimp when it comes to you, you know me better than that.”

“Ok, Mr. Billionaire.”

“Not quite but I’m far from broke.”

Robyn giggled, “you just can’t take a compliment and leave it.”

“Nah. Let’s get inside so you can sleep.”

The taxi came to a stop and they climbed out. Chris gave the driver a tip and grabbed their bags. Robyn walked beside him as he rolled their bags into the building. A bellhop met them at the doors with an empty baggage cart and placed their bags onto it before following them to the reception desk. The reception employee smiled and started to process their check in. Within a few minutes they were upstairs at their room, the bellhop placed all their bags into the room and left as Chris pressed a tip into his hand. Chris turned from closing the door and saw Robyn fast asleep on the couch. He chuckled then went to a closet and it had extra blankets inside. He grabbed one then spread it over Robyn’s body after taking off her shoes and placing her feet completely onto the couch. He leaned down and kissed her forehead, “Night Baby.”

                                 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

 Chris groaned as he sat up in the bed. He sniffed the air and his brow furrowed as he smelled food. He threw the covers off him and climbed out the bed. He leaned against the doorway and saw that Robyn was no longer asleep as he could see the top of her head above the couch, “Robs?”

Robyn turned around with a French fry in her hand, “Hey Love.”

“What time you get up?”

“About two hours ago.”

“What time is it?”

“Noon.”

“There’s no way we slept twelve hours.”

“We did. Come here, I ordered lunch.”

“For me?”

“I wasn’t gonna eat and not get something for you.”

Chris walked over to the couch and saw the covered plates sitting on the table next to Robyn’s uncovered ones, “Thank you.”

“No problem. I got you a burger and fries too. I wanted something we knew what it was. Not in the mood to experiment with our stomachs just yet.”

Chris chuckled, “We’ll do that when we go out to dinner. You do anything else?”

“No. I got up to use the bathroom, shower and eat. That’s as far as I got.”

“That’s a good start. You wanna do anything to do or just relax?’

“Relax sounds good. Besides we still need to talk.”

Chris sighed and leaned back against the couch, “thought you forgot about that.”

“It’s nothing like that. It’s not a bad thing either.”

“Oh. So what’s up?”

“I went to the doctor and she says I’m not pregnant.”

“Oh.”

“You sound disappointed.”

“I kind of am.”

“Chris, this was not the right time for us to introduce another child into our situation.”

Chris shrugged, “if you say so.”

“You want another baby that bad?’

“I’ve always wanted a large family, you know that.”

“What’s your definition of large?”

“At least five.”

“You want three more babies?”

“If it’s possible, definitely.”

“Wow.”

“You don’t want more children?”

“It’s not a thought. I never really thought about having children until I got pregnant. I love being a mother, I just never really had a thought about it either way.”

“Oh.”

“You sound surprised.”

“I am, I didn’t know that.”

“Well we never really talked about that, not even hypothetically.”

“So why’d you have the twins?”

“Because they were mine. I could afford them and I didn’t mind being a mother even though it wasn’t planned. Trust me, I was given all my options when I found out I was pregnant and I went with the one I felt the most comfortable doing it.”

“I mean you were like 23, that’s a lot to take on at one time.”

“It is but I had support. It wasn’t like I was by myself.”

“True. Was it hard?”

“Actually no. They were fairly easygoing and quiet. Other than me going into labor at my wedding, they didn’t really interrupt or effect anything. I was out of school, my job was secured and I had a husband. It worked itself out.”

“Cool.”

“Did you and your ex ever discuss children before you found out about the twins, of course?”

“Honestly, no. She said that she was open to it but at the same time she didn’t really want kids. I figured she’d change her mind eventually.”

“So she never said no outright.”

“Not until I got out of the military. Once it was just me and her, and I brought up the kids thing, she said she didn’t want any and wasn’t changing her mind.”

“Oh, that’s not fair.”

“It’s fine. Considering how that ended, I’m really glad I never got her pregnant. I would’ve been in court forever, arguing about everything.”

Robyn laughed, “very true.”

“You ever considered taking me to court?”

“No. You’ve taken care of them ever since you found out about them. Take you to court for what?”

“I don’t know. Just wondering.”

“No matter what happens between us, I know that you are an amazing father. In the past, I wasn’t sure but you showed that I was wrong about you so it’s cool.”

“Amazing enough to have another baby with me?”

“If it gets to that point, I would definitely have another baby with you but not now.”

“I’m holding you to that.”

“You’re holding me to a lot of stuff, apparently.”

“You made the promises, I’m just remembering them.”

Robyn rolled her eyes as Chris laughed, “So most of this stuff is in Italian so I have no idea what we can watch.”

“Go to the movie channels, I’m sure they got some stuff on there we can watch. If not, we can use subtitles.”

“You gonna have to turn them on because this remote is confusing as hell.”

“Let me see it.”

Robyn handed Chris the remote then moved to lay her head in his lap, “move your hands up, I can’t see.”

“Babe, how am I supposed to eat with you lying right there? My hands are gonna be in your way.”

“We’ll figure it out besides I thought you wanted to be up under me.”

“I do but I still gotta eat.”

“I’m taking another nap anyway so no worries. Do what you want.”

“You just got up.”

“And I’m going back to sleep. Gimme kiss.”

Chris leaned down and gave her two pecks. Robyn frowned, “a real kiss, Christopher.”

“You gonna have to sit up for that.”

“Pick me up.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes, it’s too hard to scoot back up.”

“Ugh,” Chris groaned as he set the remote down and grabbed Robyn around her waist to pull her upright into his lap. She put her arms around his neck and smiled, “why you frowning?”

“You are so spoiled sometimes.”

“I am not. A little lazy but not spoiled.”

“Whatever. Give me my kiss so I can take my nap.”

“What if I give you a kiss and we do something other than nap?”

“What you thinking?”

“You get in the shower with me and we’ll see what happens.”

“Oh, so that’s where we going? And what if I said I took a shower already?”

“One can never be too clean.”

“I like the way you think.”

“You’ll like the way I feel too.”

“Don’t tease me.”

“Have I ever?”

“So what you waiting for?”

“Is that a yes to a shower?’

Robyn leaned in and sucked on his bottom lip. Chris gripped her thigh and she moaned against his mouth. She placed a soft kiss on the corner of his mouth before moving to his ear. She flicked the lobe with the tip of her tongue then whispered, “that’s answer enough for you?’

“Hell yea.”

Chris stood up with her in his arms and made his way to the master bath. There was a large marble shower with one large glass door to his left then an extra large whirlpool bathtub to his right.

“We are definitely trying that out before we leave here.”

“Bet.”

Chris set her down on her feet and went to turn on the shower. After he got the water to the right temperature, he turned to Robyn and she was standing in front of him, completely nude.

“Damn,” he murmured softly.

Robyn smirked as she brushed by him to go inside the shower, “You gonna keep me waiting?”

“I’m right behind you.”

Robyn had just turned around when Chris stepped into the shower and stood in front of her, “do you need to cover your hair?”

Robyn smiled and shook her head, “nope.”

“Good. Let’s get wet.”

                                      ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 “Baby, what you want to eat?” Robyn asked as she looked at the room service menu. Chris walked out the bedroom, still wearing only a towel, “Something filling. Anything with steak or something.”

Robyn turned to look at him, “you still aren’t dressed?”

“Get dressed for what? We’re not going anywhere.”

“Doesn’t matter. Put some clothes on.”

Chris sucked his teeth and went back into the bedroom.

“I shouldn’t have to tell you to get dressed like I’m ya mother. This isn’t a nudist colony.”

“It’s my hotel room, I should be able to walk around however I want.”

“Our hotel room and I would prefer if you had clothes on.”

“Preference is a wife privilege.”

“I gotta marry you to tell you what to do?”

“Uh yea.”

“Boy please. How about filet mignon with sautéed vegetables?”

“Add a side of macaroni and cheese and a baked potato with cheese and bacon.”

“That’s a lot of starch, Babe.”

“Oh, you monitoring my diet now?”

“No. Just saying.”

Robyn grabbed the hotel phone and dialed the room service number to make their food order, “You want wine or something?”

“Bottle of patron and a bottle of a red.”

“Tequila? We partying?”

“Taking a few shots.”

“Body shots?”

“Oh, you’re a troublemaker,” Chris remarked as he walked back out of the bedroom, pulling a t-shirt over his head.

“You love it,” she winked as she turned her attention back to the attendant on the phone. Chris shook his head as he went to sit on the couch next to her.  A few minutes later she hung up the phone and turned to him, “it’ll be here in 15 minutes.”

“Just enough time to cuddle.”

“You are really taking this be up under me deal serious.”

“You promised.”

Chris moved to lay his head in her lap and kissed her belly, “you were talking about me being naked.”

“I have on a crop top, I am not naked so don’t even.”

“You still showing a lot of skin.”

“So? You can’t handle me showing a little bit of skin.”

“Depends on what else you got on with this crop top. Stand up real quick.”

“Seriously?”

“Robs.”

Robyn sighed and stood up, the cover she had on her lap falling to the floor. She spun to face Chris then turned back around with her back to him as she bent down to pick up her cover.

“Oow! Did you just bite me?” Robyn exclaimed.

“Yea, you gonna have put some sweats or something on.”

“You just bit my ass. What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“It was just hanging out, I had an urge.”

“You just bit me, Christopher!”

“We’ve established that, Robyn.”

“All that hell you gave me about biting your shoulder and you just bit me in the ass like a damn pitbull.”

“Actually not like a pitbull because they don’t let go. You taste good though.”

“I better not hear you ever complain about me biting you again.”

Chris chuckled, “you really mad?”

“I’m in shock. Why would you do that and not warn me?”

“That would take the fun out of it.”

“This food needs to hurry up, I don’t need you getting any more ideas of where else to bite me.”

“I mean that thigh looks pretty- Oow!”

Robyn hit Chris with one of the couch pillows as she sat down, “stay away from me.”

“Robyn, I love you.”

“You bit me.”

“It’s a love nip, you’re being dramatic.”

“You still bit me.”

“Wanna bite me back?”

“Anywhere I choose?”

Chris’s brow raised, “not the face.”

Robyn sucked her teeth, “then no.”

“You really wanted to bite me in the face?’

“Just a love nip.”

“Bye Robyn.”

“Come here, I was just playing. It didn’t hurt.”

Chris moved to lay in her lap and Robyn leaned down to kiss him, “did you really wanna bite me in the face?”

Robyn shrugged her shoulder then turned on the TV.

[thismightbeaterribleidea]

FAQ

Hello! So, during a global pandemic and at the beginning of what will probably be a long and severe recession, at the age of 40 and with basically no knowledge of how automobiles work, I’m going to live in a van.

This might be a terrible idea. Hence, I’m calling my blog This Might Be A Terrible Idea.

If you’re reading this, I imagine it’s because you know me, so I’ll skip the introduction. I like a good FAQ, so let’s start there.

FAQ

Where are you going? Short answer: I don’t know!

Long answer: I’ll probably primarily split my time between Colorado/northern New Mexico, Maryland/Pennsylvania, and Florida. I want to stay as low-budget as I can and also avoid crowds during the pandemic. So whenever possible, I’ll opt for free, dispersed sites in national forests, state forests, BLM (which I now read as Black Lives Matter but here it’s the less-important acronym, Bureau of Land Management), state game lands, etc. I’ll pop into a developed campground every now and then to refill the water tanks, empty the portable toilet, and take a shower.

What kind of van do you have? In late June, I bought a 2007 Ford E250 with a high roof. In its first life, it was actually an Embassy Suites hotel shuttle, so when I got it, it had SO MANY SEATS. After it retired from the hotel biz, it went to a guy who owned a brewery and used the van for ski trips. Then he eventually traded it to a friend’s college-aged son in exchange for lawn-mowing work. This young man was actually going to make it into a camper too but didn’t have time, so he sold it to me.

I got the van for a very low price ($2000) because it’s really high mileage — almost 300,000. It also has a few issues: the dashboard, power windows, and radio only work sometimes. The doors are creaky and don’t like to close. There are splatters of paint (?) on the inside of the driver’s door. The air conditioning wasn’t working. And the interior is pretty beat up.

With help from my brother who actually knows about cars, I recharged the air conditioning. A new, functional instrument cluster is on the way. And the type of engine in this van (5.4L V8) supposedly has a reputation for being extremely durable. If I get a couple of good years out of this vehicle, I’ll be happy.

How are you going to afford this? A few years ago, I paid $4200 for an acre of land in the San Luis Valley, a few hours from Denver. I hoped to eventually put a little camper on it and make a very low-budget part-time home. But a few months after I bought the land, the county changed its rules to prohibit living in campers or mobile homes for more than a couple of weeks at a time. So the camper idea went out the window, and in June, I sold that land for $5000. This was my funding to buy the van and associated stuff. I’m going to try to keep the initial total cost of the van (vehicle, repairs, materials for the interior, solar installation) to about $6000.

I’m incredibly fortunate to be in a position where I don’t have to choose between my job and a weird nomadic lifestyle. About a year ago, I went full-time freelance as an editor and writer. So I’m self-employed and I work from home. I don’t even need the internet that much — aside from checking email, file downloads/uploads, and occasional googling for research and editing questions, I can be mostly offline. Also incredibly fortunate: the pandemic hasn’t affected my work, at least not so far.

I’ll have new and unexpected expenses: food will be more expensive, I’ll have to pay for campgrounds sometimes, the van will need gas and repairs and oil and new tires, and then I’ll want to make livability improvements (like insulation). But I hope that I’ll be able to cover all of that while still living within my means.

Aren’t you selling your condo? Why don’t you get a newer/lower mileage/already converted van? Yes, I am (fingers crossed that the sale goes through) selling my condo in Denver. But I also have no savings, no retirement fund, no emergency fund. And the recession is just getting started… the whole future seems pretty uncertain. I’d feel better if I kept as much of the condo money in the bank as possible, even if that means having a crappier van.

Don’t you worry about safety? Absolutely. I’m a worrying person. I worry a lot! But if I responded to those worries by not going anywhere alone, staying in only developed campgrounds, etc., then I’d have missed out on some of the best experiences in my life, and I’d never go much of anywhere at all.

To stay safe in a van, I’ll use the same approach I use for solo car camping. If a place feels sketchy, I go somewhere else. To avoid trouble from bears, I try not to get food on the ground, do food prep and brush teeth away from the vehicle, and keep the car doors locked when I’m away and at night. To avoid trouble from bros, I try to stay out of sight. I pick spots and set up my campsite so that people passing by mostly just see the vehicle and not me or my single chair or small tent. I have bear spray, which stays in arm’s reach when I’m out hiking and at night, and I have a sharp knife, which is always pretty accessible too.

In fact, safety is why I chose a van over a truck with a camper, which actually would have been preferable. If a truck ever had recurring or expensive mechanical problems, I could just get a new truck and put the camper on it — but with a van, I’ll either have to do the expensive repairs or get a new van and re-do the whole interior. And if I wanted to stay in one place for a while, I could take the camper off and just drive the truck around, saving on gas and wear and tear. But with a truck camper, if I were ever inside the camper and felt unsafe, I’d have to *go outside* and then get into the truck cab in order to leave. With a van, if things start feeling sketchy, I can just hop in the driver’s seat and go.

(Side note: It’s upsetting and frustrating to me that these safety concerns and choices are so linked to gender. Of course men also need to think about safety when they’re out camping alone, but I’m pretty sure I’ve had to think about it at least 200% as much as my equivalent 40-year-old non-threatening-looking out-of-shape single dude.)

If we’re talking about safety from non-sentient threats — bad weather, injuries, mechanical breakdowns, etc. — then I…

a) try not to get into situations that I can’t get out of — whether it’s a too-rugged road, a too-steep trail, or a spot that is likely to turn into a mud pit if it rains. I also think about whether I could walk to get help if I needed to. b) have some basic safety and first aid stuff. Tape, gauze, and a mylar blanket for me; jumper cables and a portable air compressor for the car. c) have a Triple A membership in case I need a tow.

The van came with a handy fire extinguisher strapped to the driver’s seat. To reduce the possibility of being unable to call for help if I get stuck somewhere, I eventually plan to get a cell phone signal booster.

The fire extinguisher or even my bear spray won’t keep me safe from COVID-19. But like I mentioned, I’m trying to stay as far away from crowds as possible. To cut down on contact when resupplying, I’ve got storage for 10 gallons of water (I’m actually going to expand this to 15) and plan to carry enough food for a month. Unless there’s a mechanical problem or breakdown (definitely my biggest concern), I should be able to drive coast to coast while remaining in a relatively firm bubble. The riskiest thing I’ll *have* to do is refuel at gas pumps, but I can pick gas stations that seem less crowded, refuel in smaller towns rather than busy highway rest areas, and go at quieter times of day.

Does your van have air conditioning? Nope! Well, it has the standard vehicle AC, but that only works while the van is running, and most of the time I’ll be parked. There are AC units that can go on top of campers and vans, but they use a ton of power: either you have to be plugged in to shore power at a campground, use a gas-powered generator, or have a million solar panels and batteries. I’m going to get a good roof vent and fan installed, plus maybe put some smaller battery-powered fans in the windows, so that will hopefully keep me from getting heatstroke in the summer.

Does it have running water? Nope! Right now, I have a portable foot-pump sink and a self-contained portable toilet. I plan to eventually build a nicer/bigger sink. I’m also going to order a collapsible tub so I can do sponge baths or use a solar shower (a black vinyl bag that heats up in the sun and has a hose attached). Swimming in freshwater lakes will need to become a bigger part of my life. I’ll probably be a little stinky at times, but people should be social distancing anyway, so if anyone can smell me, they’re way too close.

Does it have electricity? It will! I’m planning to have one large solar panel and a lithium battery installed. (For those who are curious, it’s a 315 watt solar panel with a 100 AH battery.) This will power the roof fan, my laptop, my phone, some plug-in lights, and eventually also built-in lights, the cell phone signal booster, and maybe a small fridge or cooler. The solar power system is going to outlast the van and will be easily switchable to my next vehicle.

Wait. “Maybe” a fridge? What are you going to eat? Ummm… I’ll figure it out? I eat like a scavenging raccoon, so I’m not too picky. I bought a bunch of freeze-dried legume-based soup and stew mixes from Harmony House, some high-protein shake mix from Huel, and I plan to stock rice, quinoa, peanut butter, oatmeal, hard cheese, packaged salmon and tuna, and dried fruit. If I’m driving, I’ll probably also keep an eye out for farm stands and grab some produce that will keep unrefrigerated for a few days. During the pandemic, I’ve been using support for local businesses as a way of justifying takeout or delivery once or twice a week, so I’ll probably keep doing that when I pass through developed areas.

Can you poop in your van? Does it smell? Yes to the first! I haven’t, um, tested it out yet. But after road trip in my sedan in May, when I had to go into a scary (no one wearing masks or social distancing) gas station in Colorado Springs, bathroom and hand-washing facilities for the van became a priority. Right now the portable toilet is just sort of hanging out in the open, but I’m going to build a plywood box to contain it. I did pee in it a bunch during my inaugural camping trip, and I’m happy to report that the chemicals I added to the tank made it not smell gross while also not producing an overwhelming chemical smell.

How will you get the internet? Unlimited data plan FTW! I recently figured out that I can use my phone as a mobile hotspot and connect to it with my laptop. It’s not fast, but it’ll do what I need it to. And I should be able to have connectivity even in more remote areas after I get a signal booster.

Won’t you get tired of living in a tiny space? Maybe. I do have some good practice, though. In the last decade, I’ve gone from living in a 700-square-foot condo (Denver) to a 400-ish-square-foot studio apartment (New Jersey; grad school) to my childhood room in my parents’ house (Maryland; post-grad-school student loan debt). Each time, I’ve gotten rid of stuff, even things it’s painful to get rid of: old books, childhood knickknacks, cassette tapes, drawings, horse show ribbons I remember winning, cutlery and glassware I got as housewarming gifts.

I also tend to feel really at home in my car. I’ve napped in my car, drafted novels in my car, had long and meaningful conversations in my car, had existential crises in my car, eaten hundreds of meals in my car. Car = house makes sense to me. And I hope to be staying in places where I have access to big and engaging outdoor spaces.

What will you do after you live in a van for a while? I have no idea. There are definitely things that I want to do — write fiction, build my career, be more involved with community/communities, get healthier, be a better human — but all of those things are geographically nonspecific. And everything both personally and nationally feels so up in the air. I could end up living in a van for a year, or five, or ten. I might eventually buy a house or a boat or a farm, or settle down somewhere (I don’t know where) in a more permanent way. But I’m not making plans for any of that, and I’m not making plans for an “after.”

I think that’s it for the FAQ! If you have any questions, let me know and I will address them in a later LFAQ (Less Frequently Asked Questions).

Also, please bear with me because I don’t really know how Tumblr works. If you want to start reading, start FROM THE BOTTOM.

[blissedoutphil]

Dan the Personal Assistant Part 6

Dan has to submit an application video to be an assistant for a company President, Mr. Lester. But what happens when he accidentally sends a wrong video?

3464 words of Dom!Phil, sub!dan

almost exactly 3 months since the last update, good job me :| sorry to have kept yall waiting but I was writing this halfway when irl d&p came out, which was so surreal and overwhelming that I took a lil break from writing phanfic, I hope you guys understand <3

also can yall imagine my surprise and outrage when I found out tumblr removed line breaks while I was on hiatus?!

~Part 5~

~Part 7~

or read on ao3!

After Dan left, Phil couldn’t stop thinking about the conversation they had. He should’ve known it was a bad idea to let the boy into his home, but he couldn’t help it. He can’t believe history was almost repeating itself. All he had to do was maintain his distance, keep the boy aware of the line between them. Boss and assistant, nothing more. Don’t cross the line, and everything will be fine. And yet here he was.

Phil cursed himself as he slumped back onto the couch. He could tell that Dan liked him. Why else would anyone even want to spend their precious weekend with their boss the entire day? But he wouldn’t blame the boy. And to make matters worse, Phil was starting to grow very fond of Dan too. It wasn’t easy avoiding his pretty lips earlier. He wanted nothing more than to kiss Dan, to taste him, to learn the way his lips felt against his own.

But that was exactly what started the downfall of his relationship with his previous assistant, and he wasn’t going to let it happen again. He absolutely did not want to lose Dan the same way.

Perhaps Frank was right, Phil thought. His colleague was just looking out for him, not wanting him to be silly and fall for an assistant again, but Phil clearly hadn’t listened. Frank had all the right to be upset at him on Friday. But part of Phil had wanted to prove to his colleagues that he knew not to repeat mistakes, and he thought that having Dan would be a good idea to show them. God, Frank would be pissed if he ever found out that Phil had spent almost his entire Sunday with Dan. 

But Phil had enjoyed Dan’s company very much, even more so than when he sits naked all pretty in his office. He never had someone so willing to just accompany him even though he was busy doing work. He never had someone to watch his favourite show while eating his favourite takeaway food with before. Not even when he was in love with his previous assistant.

Phil thought about how well he and Dan actually clicked. He wondered if in another universe, they’d meet in a different way and be boyfriends. He entertained the thought only for a minute though, he couldn’t afford to lose an assistant again.

Phil sighed. Maybe he should just let Dan know about the past, maybe Dan would be better than him at staying within boundaries. He didn’t want to lead him on if they continue this way. But he was afraid that Dan might leave entirely if he were to tell him. 

As he started clearing away the takeaway boxes, he decided that instead of talking about the past, he’d just have to show Dan the boundaries even clearer.

---------

The next day, Phil stepped into the office to be greeted with the usual sight of Dan sat on the rug and the usual scent of coffee already made for him. Phil had somewhat expected Dan not to turn up after yesterday’s events, so he was actually pleasantly surprised. He didn’t show it, though.

“Good morning, Sir,” Dan spoke up, actually feeling good that he could finally call Phil Sir again after not being able to yesterday.

“Good morning, Daniel,” Phil answered, making a point not to look Dan’s way as he settled down in his seat.

Dan gulped, not sure if Phil was still upset at him for their conversation the previous night. Phil was usually warm and cheerful in the mornings, except that one time he was late. But now he seemed guarded, like last night.

Phil seemed intent on not even speaking to him. Which was strange because Phil always had some instructions for him before he started his work proper. So, Dan decided to go through with his plan from yesterday which was to give Phil a deserving blowjob before he started the day.

He crawled over and knelt by the side of Phil’s chair, doe eyes looking up at Phil before asking if he could blow him. To his surprise, Phil merely dismissed him.

“From now on, I want you to kneel and be still by that corner when you’re not needed. Only come to me when I ask you to, got it?” Phil asked, pointing to the far end of the room.

Dan was confused, because Phil had always allowed him to just be comfortable and do whatever he wants if he wasn’t needed. But it wasn’t his place to object to instructions.

“Is this punishment for pushing things yesterday, Sir?” he asked, albeit meekly.

“No,” Phil answered a bit more defensive than he’d intended, “I thought we agreed to forget that. I’m just setting some new rules for you,” Phil gave Dan a quick glance before turning his attention to the files on his desk.

As Dan crawled dejectedly to his newly designated corner, he concluded that this was definitely because of yesterday. Just as he got into position, Phil spoke up.

“Oh before that, go get the black buttplug and use it.”

Dan went to the drawer of toys, knowing exactly which one Phil was referring to. He started moving towards Phil but Phil stopped him and told him to get it in himself.

Dan was used to Phil preparing him and using the toys on him instead of doing it himself, but he just had to adhere to whatever Phil was saying right now. So, he decided to make the most of it and put on a good show for Phil. He prostrated on the rug, head down and ass in the air towards Phil. He slowly fingered himself, complete with moans and whimpers that he knew Phil liked.

After he finally inserted the plug and sat back up and turned to Phil, to his dismay, Phil wasn’t even looking at him.

Dan huffed as he crawled to his corner. What was the point of him being there if Phil didn’t even want to pay attention? He knelt up and faced the wall, wondering how long he’d have to stay like that. He couldn’t even see the time like this, and he knew he’d be bored to death before even an hour passes.

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

Dan wasn’t sure how much time passed but his knees were starting to ache. He wanted to turn around and look at Phil, but he didn’t want to disobey orders. He wanted to be as good as possible and not make any mistakes. Perhaps the previous assistant eventually got bored and even the money can’t cure boredom. Or perhaps he got so bored that he started disobeying orders a lot on purpose so Phil fired him. No, Dan can’t be like the previous assistant. So he continued kneeling like a good boy despite his knees aching.

Phil actually couldn’t stop staring at Dan’s ass while he tried to do work. The plug was a perfect touch. And Dan was being so good as well, he was barely fidgeting. Phil almost felt bad that he had to do this, but it was the only way he could think of how to keep the boundaries in check. 

Just then, there was a knock on Phil’s door. He instinctively looked at Dan, who was already looking back at him.

“Go,” Phil mouthed and pointed to the bathroom door.

“I’m good,” Dan responded in a moment of defiance. He remembered that Phil hadn’t minded if he wanted to stay when people came in. And he didn’t want to miss out on any conversation that could potentially involve him anymore.

“It’s an order,” Phil said firmly, face stern.

Dan faltered a bit. He contemplated disobeying Phil, but he really didn’t have it in him to be a naughty boy. He didn’t have much time either; the knocks on the door were getting louder and Phil was looking angrier by the second.

Eventually, he got up and ran into the bathroom, closing the door just in time for Phil’s colleague to barge in.

-----------

“You’re hiding him in there, aren’t you?” Frank asked, clearly unamused as he sat down in front of Phil’s desk.

Phil sighed. At least Frank wasn’t raising his voice like last time, so hopefully Dan couldn’t hear anything.

“Yeah okay I guess there’s no point lying to you anyway,” Phil mumbled.

“You know I’m just looking out for you, right?” Frank leaned forward in his seat, volume as low as Phil’s.

“Where is the old Frank who just wanted a piece of my assistant now?” Phil tried to joke even though he knew it won’t go over well.

“I don’t want you getting all hurt again, and I don’t want you hurting some kid’s feelings again.”

Frank was older than Phil, and although he knew that Frank was right most of the time, he didn’t like how sometimes it just felt like he was being scolded by his dad or something.

“I get it, Frank, but trust me I know what I’m doing this time,” Phil said.

“You sure you’re not falling for this kid now?”

“I’m not!” Phil whisper-shouted.

Frank didn’t look convinced, “Uhuh yeah, sure you aren’t. I would’ve received the complete financial plan from you if you weren’t distracted. I’ve known you too long to be fooled by you, Lester.”

“I’ll get it done by lunch, alright?!”

“Why can’t you just get a boyfriend the normal way,” Frank shook his head, “go on grindr if need be.”

“I’m not searching for a boyfriend. I just-”

“Then make sure he isn’t being led on. Or do I need to get in there and talk to him myself?”

“I am making sure of that. We have a contract and he’s being paid so. I’m not just using him and he knows what he’s gotten into,” Phil still tried defending himself.

Frank sighed as he got up.

“Well, if you need help you know I’m here for you. Just, don’t be stupid again.”

Frank immediately left the room, not giving Phil time to argue further. Phil knew that Frank was trying to be a good friend looking out for him, but he couldn’t help being more grumpy from that conversation.

Dan must’ve heard the door slam shut as he slowly came back out of the bathroom. Phil hoped that he hadn’t heard anything at all.

Dan could tell that Phil was frustrated, it seemed like his mood went from bad to worse. Just like on Friday, he felt like he should help his boss relax. It was his job here anyway. But he wasn’t sure if it would be a good idea now after Phil set those new rules.

He couldn’t make out any words from the conversation today, which frustrated him a little, but the voice he heard sounded like the one from Friday. He wondered what it was about the guy that always put Phil in a weird mood.

Phil felt Dan’s eyes on him, so he pretended to be busy until Dan gave up and moved to his corner. When Dan’s back was facing him again, he relaxed and sighed.

He had no idea what to do after the conversation with Frank. Dan was such a good sub, perhaps too good for him. He didn’t even try to object to the sudden change in rules. Now Phil wasn’t sure if the rules would even help at all. Part of him wanted Dan to just lash out on him, like his old assistant used to.

His old sub would’ve totally disagreed with the idea of having corner time, would’ve done the opposite of what Dan was doing and instead would do anything to push Phil’s buttons, even after Phil punished him. Phil shook his head slightly at the memory, wondering why he had even put up with that. He did love a bratty sub at the time, but Dan made him realise how beautiful it was to have a wholly willing sub too.

It was about an hour to lunch, so Phil decided to ignore his situation with Dan for now to finish up the work he owed Frank so that Frank wouldn’t come for him in the afternoon. He could try to talk to Dan during lunch.

--------

“Dan.”

Dan was startled out of his daydream. He looked over his shoulder, uncertain if he was allowed to move out of his spot. He quickly stood up when Phil beckoned him over to the couches, his knees almost buckling.

Phil had ordered in for their lunch today. Dan cautiously sat at the opposite end of the couch. He still felt wary around this bad mood Phil.

Phil started eating, so Dan followed suit, but found it hard when the silence between them felt so tense. But he had no idea what to even say that could ease the tension, so he just tried to quickly finish his food.

Phil sighed suddenly, placing his bowl onto the table haphazardly.

“Dan,” Phil began, in a voice so solemn that it made Dan worry if he was in trouble or something.

Phil had no idea how to start the conversation, and Dan already looked like he’s terrified that he’d done something wrong. Why did he even pull this poor boy into this situation? It all suddenly seemed extremely silly to have a personal slut readily available for him at all times in his office.

“Could you put on your clothes?” Phil decided to say. Even though he loved seeing his boy nude, it just didn’t feel right for this conversation he was about to have.

“A-am I being fired?” Dan asked brokenly, and Phil can’t believe that tears were actually forming in Dan’s eyes.

“No,” Phil reassured quickly, “I just. Are you 100% sure you’re comfortable with all this?”

You’re like over a month late in asking this, Dan thought as his brows creased in confusion.

“Yeah, I mean I wouldn’t have signed the contract if I wasn’t,” Dan answered firmly, wondering why Phil was suddenly having doubts of his trust.

Something was clearly bothering Phil, but after what happened at his house, Dan didn’t want to overstep any boundaries by asking too much again. He was so curious but he hoped that Phil would trust him enough to open up to him without being prompted.

“I’m sorry, Dan,” Phil sighed, shaking his head, “I-I just. Wanna ask you something. Can you be completely honest with me?”

Dan was still confused as to why Phil didn’t seem to trust him suddenly. “Of course. You know that I’ve never been dishonest with you, right Sir?”

Phil didn’t answer Dan. He stalled for a bit, trying to phrase his question in his mind.

“There’s nothing more going on here, right?” Phil asked vaguely, gesturing between them.

“W-what do you mean?” Dan asked nervously, having a strong suspicion of exactly what Phil meant.

“You know that as a boss and employee we must maintain a professional relationship, so I just wanna make sure-”

“Oh yeah, I know that,” Dan quickly uttered, “yeah totally. And yeah nope, nothing more here. Totally professional only.”

“Okay good,” Phil leaned back into his seat a little.

Dan felt bad seeing how Phil relaxed. Now he can’t say that he’s never been dishonest with Phil anymore.

“...Why’d you ask? Are you feeling like there is?” Dan asked to distract from his moment of faltering.

“N-no! I just. Want to confirm, is all,” it was Phil’s turn to falter.

So much for asking for complete honesty when you can’t give him that yourself, Phil thought.

Phil cleared his throat. “Yeah, which is why I set those new rules today. To have clearer boundaries between us. Just to be sure so nothing more could come up, which we obviously can’t tolerate. Yeah. Just wanted to explain to you why we’re gonna have these new rules.”

“Okay,” Dan said passively.

“Good,” Phil replied anyway even though he was exasperated by Dan’s blank expression. He picked his bowl back up and the conversation ended there.

-------

Dan spent the rest of the day in his corner. It was the first day since he started working there that Phil didn’t even play with him once. He had a lot of time to mull over the conversation they had at lunch, and he honestly felt like he was in deep shit.

Perhaps he was more transparent than he thought, and he felt embarrassed thinking of how Phil most probably knew that he was falling for him. It was a good call on Phil’s part then, to set new boundaries. Dan thought he could’ve silently dealt with the crush, but of course he didn’t want want to make Phil uncomfortable and ruin their workplace relationship. He was glad that Phil didn’t just fire him, even if he could tell that Dan was lying to him earlier.

He tried not to read too much into how Phil answered him the exact way he answered Phil. Was Phil really being honest or did he also lie just like Dan did? What if Phil was also starting to fall for Dan and so he quickly set new rules to make sure he wouldn’t? Dan felt his heart swell thinking about Phil actually liking him back, but he didn’t want to entertain those thoughts for long. They wouldn’t make things any better.

The more he thought about their conversation during lunch, the more questions he had. But he was sure that part of why Phil was doing this was because he’d been too nosy the day before, and he didn’t want to overstep by asking too much again. He so badly wanted to tell Phil that he won’t cross the line anymore, that he can be good and maintain a totally professional relationship - whatever that meant for a personal slut - without having these new rules that he honestly didn’t like at all.

The problem was. Although Dan absolutely did not want to get fired over being unable to control his feelings, he was fairly certain that even this change can’t stop him from falling for his boss. He was definitely in deep shit.

------

Phil could concentrate on work even less now than when he often played with Dan. The new rules weren’t helping him at all. He kept looking at Dan, who amazingly stayed still almost throughout the entire day. His eyes scanned the boy’s taut shoulders, the little freckles speckling his shoulder blades, the dimples above his bum. They way he’s gripping his arms behind his back even though Phil hadn’t made him do that. Such a good boy. He wanted to pull the plug out and fuck him hard against the wall.

But he also kept thinking about the conversation they had over lunch, and how he wasn’t sure if this could help Dan not to be led on.

Not that Dan was being led on since his feelings were reciprocated, even if he didn’t know. Which was a whole other matter that Phil wasn’t prepared to think about.

But he’d already tried to make clear that he wanted to have only a professional relationship between them, and he shouldn’t take back his words. He wondered how Dan was taking this all so well. He literally agreed to have these rules without even questioning Phil the slightest, which honestly took Phil by surprise.

Maybe Phil was just overthinking and all this was unnecessary. Or maybe Dan felt that this change was helpful, and things could work out with no feelings attached in the end.

Phil sighed as he continued staring at his boy’s ass across the room. He thought about how adamant Dan was that there was nothing more going on. He didn’t know whether to believe the boy, because his actions sure showed otherwise. Not that he had a right to get mad, since he also lied to Dan about his own feelings. Although he really hoped that Dan didn’t pick up that he’d lied.

The image of Dan looking distressed thinking that he was being fired also stuck in Phil’s mind. At least one thing’s for sure - Phil need not worry about his assistant wanting to leave him like last time. As long as he doesn’t mess things up now.

Phil quickly shook himself out of his daydream of being with Dan and focused on his work for the rest of the day. If he wanted Dan to lose the feelings, he had to as well. So maybe trying to show the boundaries clearer this way would work out after all.

At the end of the day, Dan was instructed to remove the buttplug without being played with even a little. After over a month, this was his first day there that he hadn’t enjoyed at all.

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

~Part 5~

~Part 7~

I hope expectations aren’t too high for this fic (tbh idk how this became one of the favourites). Part of why I took a while to come back even after the feeling of omgwtfhshshskjs towards d&p’s coming out died down was because I literally have no clear plan for where this fic is going, which is a huge flaw of mine as a writer who just can’t seem to plan the entire story first instead of taking things one chapter at a time oops :x

butttt I hope this update was okay and thank you for still reading and being patient even as I tend to disappear for months at a time <3

[jessahmewren]

“Birthday Boy Seeking Party Guests” / Queen / Bohemian Rhapsody Fan Fiction

Summary: Tired of spending birthday’s alone, John posts an ad on Craigslist hoping to spice things up.  Set in the 2000′s.  

Rating E for Everyone be aware here be smut.  

Pairing: Poly

Word count: 7,556

Also on Ao3

-0-0-0-

John erased what he’d written for what seemed like the tenth time, squinting at the screen on his laptop. He cracked his knuckles, taking another sip of wine.  The bottle was more than half gone, but he couldn’t be bothered to care.  It was the weekend, and he was spending it, like every other weekend, alone in his flat browsing the internet.  

The wine settled in his bones, making him feel warm and heavy and a bit giddy.  He opened up the Word document where the Craigslist Personal’s ad he’d been fumbling over for the past half hour sat half written.

“I am a single male seeking three men for a one night stand at my flat.  I have no other preferences other than that you be reasonably good looking and clean.  I will send a headshot and directions when you send one.”  

Wait.  The fuck?  That sounded really off and vain.  No way should he be writing this while drunk.  Or, he thought miserably, writing this period.  But anyway.  

“I am a single male seeking three men for a one night stand at my flat. I am fit and disease free; please be the same.  Details to be follow.”  

Was that better, he wondered?  Worse?

“I’ve never done this before; I’m not weird or even kinky…just a normal guy wanting to have a good time for once on his birthday.”  

There, he thought. That sounded nice and normal, not scary like some of the other ads (seriously, the one asking for the fart buddy was a little out there…).  He copied the ad and, before he could chicken out, pasted it into the text box.  

He titled the ad “Birthday Boy Seeking Party Guests” and hit submit before he could talk himself out of it.

John checked his Myspace briefly before closing the laptop.  His cat, Gwyneth, coiled around his legs.  He reached down to stroke her ginger fur.  “Again, lovely?  You’ve already had your dinner,” he cooed fondly.  He reached for a bit of chicken from the fridge, leftovers from his own meal. “Just a snack, now.”  The cat was an absolute unit, and he couldn’t afford her getting any fatter.  

He put the wine glass in the sink, nodding off slightly as the water ran.  Gwyneth waddled off to her cat bed, sniffing it delicately before she sank into the pillowy softness.  John smiled at her as he switched off the light and shuffled off to his bedroom.

As he lay down beneath the covers, he thought of his little Craigslist ad, and smiled.  

--

Freddie woke up early for once, silencing his alarm on his phone and stumbling to the teapot.  He put the kettle on and grabbed a lemon strudel before settling on the couch and opening his laptop.  

Craigslist was still open from the night before where he had entertained himself with reading the personal ads.  It was one of his favorite past times late at night…sitting with a bag of crisps with his legs crossed reading some of those wacky adds.  As his kettle hummed, he decided to scroll further down the page.

He landed on John’s ad, and something made him smile.  “I’m not weird or even kinky…” Freddie laughed at that.  Why yes you are darling, you’re asking for a foursome for your birthday!  Still, his smile never faltered.  He clicked on the user name and opened up his email program.

“Hi John, I’m Freddie.  I AM weird and VERY kinky, and would love to come to your birthday party ;). I have attached a headshot. Cheers.”

He hit send and closed the laptop. His kettle was boiling by now and he poured himself a cuppa. He thought about the email he’d just sent and sighed.  It wasn’t likely he was going to get a reply, and if he did, he was up for it. He hooked up regularly with no problems.  This time was likely to be any different.

--

Brian cursed to himself. He was late and the computer labs at the university were always nearly full around lunch.  He had a paper due in two hours.  Maybe he could swing it.  

He found one open kiosk in the corner and settled in front of it, plugging in his flashdrive.  After an hour of typing, Brian closed the document and submitted it to his professor.  One more paper, one more assignment closer to his PhD.  He took a moment to relax and opened up his Hotmail.

After a few moments of aimless clicking and deleting, he opened one of his Craigslist notifications. Unfortunately, the amp he had wanted for his guitar was already sold.  He clicked the link anyway, the website opening in a new window.  He browsed the website a bit, eventually landing on the Personals section.  

He entertained himself for a while, admittedly enjoying the sexier ads.  And then he read John’s.  

Something about it struck him as honest, and Brian could respect that.  Brian considered the prospect of fucking three other guys, a little thrill running through him.  What would that even be like?  

He decided, like a good doctoral researcher, that he needed more information.  He emailed John.  

--

Roger was drunk (and maybe something else).  His limbs were loose, and he couldn’t feel his lips.  An easy euphoria fell over him, throbbing in his skull in time with the pulsing music and the girl riding his lap.  The friends he’d come over with were somewhere else, but there were others here.  So many people just walking around him as this girl fucked him right here on the sofa.

“Lay back baby,” She said as she rode him, steadily lifting herself off of him, the wet squelch of her tight heat lost to the music and the chaos of the open room. She was pretty in an odd way, Roger thought.  His body felt like it was on fire, and he felt the involuntary response of his orgasm winding its way to completion.  

He gasped, coming inside the condom as she giggled and contracted around him.  He was panting hard, his heart racing.  Whatever he had taken was too much, he thought, too much this time.  He felt sick. He pawed at the girl as she chased her own climax, pushing her off just as she came, nibbling at his sweat-slick skin.

“Thanks for the fuck,” she said as she slid off him.  She pulled up her panties under her skirt and wobbled away.  

He sagged back against the couch where no one seemed to pay attention to him, feeling used.  Tears stung his eyes, and then someone called his name.  

“Hey Roger, you done fucking around?  Come play this game with us.”

He raised his head, the whole room swimming.  Gingerly, he made his way over to the small gathering.  There were shots set up in front of a laptop.  Greg, the leader of the group, pushed Roger down in a chair.

“It’s youngest against oldest, and Rog, you’re the youngest.  Whoever does the least amount of shots has to answer one of these Craigslist Personals ads.  I’ve put them all in a random name generator so it’s totally fair.”

Roger felt sick.  He knew he’d had too much to drink already, and there was no way he would win.  He stared the other man down anyway.  

Greg counted them out. “On your mark, get set, go!”

Roger started downing shots until he declared he’d had enough.  He was nearly blackout drunk when they pulled the virtual lever on the random name generator.  The ad title that came up was “Birthday Boy Seeking Party Guests.”

Roger was passed out on the couch when Greg sent the email to John along with a fetching photo of Roger smiling with friends while wearing his favorite sunglasses.  Greg was sure to add, “you can’t tell, but my eyes are blue ;).”

--

John forgot about his little ad until the following evening, when he was coming home from the repair shop and remembered that he should probably check his email.  He picked up dinner, fed Gwyneth and did just that, deleting the spam and adverts and noticing, to his surprise, several emails from Craigslist users.  

He omitted some right away…not on a superficial bases, but just based on how they sounded.  Bossy, arrogant, or their emails gave out a creepy vibe.  The next one he clicked on was a bloke named Freddie.  

“I AM weird AND kinky…”  John laughed at that.  That was mild compared to some of the other things he’d been told.  It was rather endearing, actually.  As the pic took forever to load, he thought Freddie might be interesting to get to know.  

Then the pic finally opened and John’s mouth flew open.

Black, lustrous, shoulder-length hair framing the most stunning face…tan skin stretched over sharp cheekbones and jawline and those piercing brown kohl-lined eyes.  He was easily the most exotic person John had ever laid eyes on.  He was immediately attracted to him.  

John hit reply and began typing.  “I love your headshot.  This may be a little forward, but would you like to come celebrate my birthday with me?  You would be my first guest :).”  

He gave him the time and place, included a headshot, and hit send, hoping for the best.  

The next email was a bit longer and more thoughtful but just as intriguing.  

“Hi there.  My name is Brian.  I am a college student getting my PhD.  I saw your ad on Craigslist and I must say I am intrigued.  I have never done anything like this, either.  I would be interested in helping you celebrate your birthday if you provide a safe, clean environment in which to do so.  Please provide photos of your flat.”  Thanks –Bri”

John smiled.  How considerate to think of a safe environment. Bri was definitely getting an email. He replied to Brian and included photos of his living room, kitchen, and bedroom (he left the bathroom out for reasons). Thankfully he had just tidied up. He also included a headshot.  

The next email that caught his eye was from Roger.  When the pic loaded, he was stunned to find a beautiful blond man with a winning smile standing in a group of friends.  

“Hi! My name is Roger.  I saw your ad on Craigslist.  You can count me in!  Just send me the time and place.  Also, you can’t tell, but my eyes are blue ;).”

John smiled at his enthusiasm.  He attached a headshot, gave him the details and hoped he would hear a little more from him.

John switched over to his Myspace and made a post for the first time in a long time.  “Happy for new adventures,” it said with a sticker. And for the first time in a long time, he was.

--

Freddie was late, and he had just enough time for tea and maybe to check his email before he was needed at Splash, the high-end fashion boutique where he worked.  He scrolled through his messages on his phone, reading a few replies, when one from Craigslist user John caught his eye.    

“I love your headshot.  This may be a little forward…”  

Freddie smiled at that.

The pic finally loaded, and Freddie’s mouth watered at the sweet sight.  A young man, early twenties, long brown hair, lovely green eyes, and the sweetest smile stared back at him.  There were secrets in that smile, he thought, and Freddie wanted to find them out.  

So Freddie had a date with not one but three other gents.  He better get to work so he could find himself something new to wear.  

--

“I want a double mocha latte, no whip, no drizzle, but soy sub on the milk,” the customer spouted off dryly, and Brian just nodded.  He’d been working as a barista at Starbucks to help pay his way through college, and while things could get a little crazy, he mostly liked it.  “No problem,” he said as he tried to smile.  “Name please?”  

The teenage girl grinned. “Princess of the Universe.” Brian’s face fell.  “Alright miss I’ll try to fit that on the cup,” he muttered as he turned to make her coffee.  

At his next break, he sat in the back and played Angry Birds on his phone until his email notifications pinged.  John from Craigslist had written him back.  

“Hi Bri! This is John. I really enjoyed your email and appreciate you thinking to ask about a safe environment.  That is really important and is honestly something I would do. I have included the requested pictures of my flat.  Thankfully I had just tidied up (haha).

The flat was neat and clean. Very homey.  There was a fat orange cat nestled on the couch in one of the pics, and it made Brian smile.  The headshot John had sent was of John in profile, looking out a window. His green eyes were luminous in the sunlight, and his long brown hair was pulled back over his shoulder.  There was a slight smile on his face.  

Brian hummed as he looked at it, eyes going over the smooth skin of the young man’s neck and where that skin stretched over the juncture of his jaw and cheek.  He was lovely.  

“Brian!  You’ve got customers!”  

Brian muttered a curse to himself.  

“I’d very much like to attend,” Brian found himself typing. “Send me the details.”

--

His head was pounding, and the afternoon light of his bedroom hurt his eyes.  Those were Roger’s first cognizant thoughts as he gradually returned to wakefulness after coming home last night and passing out on top of his sheets.  

He doesn’t remember coming home, really, or how he got home.  But he assumed Greg and his friends dumped him off here after he woke up on their couch.  

It didn’t matter, not really.  He stumbled home like this a few times a week and he invariably always recovered.  

Roger peeled himself off the mattress, dragging himself into the bathroom to splash some water on his face. He endured the light so he wouldn’t miss the toilet, and when he passed the mirror, he paused.  

There were dark circles under his bloodshot eyes.  His face was puffy, his hair in disarray.  He looked older somehow, and he swore under his breath.  Shit had to get better than this.  

He peeled off last night’s clothes and stepped into the shower, letting the hot spray wash off the filth and sketchy memories.  Stepping out of the shower, he toweled off and put on a pair of sweats.  He had a few hours before he had to be at his bartending job at a local nightclub, so he decided to forego the tea and head straight for the coffee.  

He settled into the couch, letting the weariness leech from his boned into the cushions.  Sipping his coffee, he checked his email, frowning when he got a notification from Craigslist.  

“What the hell,” he muttered to himself, opening the email to find the top half of a picture loading.

It was a young man with soft green eyes crinkled at the edges, a wide smile and long brown hair. Something caught in his chest, something warm and fluttery, as he looked at it.  

The email was underneath.

“Hello Roger!  I’m John. I’m excited that you want to attend my birthday party.  You’re my third guest, so that makes four of us, lol ;).  I’m sending you the date and time below along with directions to my flat. I can’t wait to meet you in person. :).”

What the actual FUCK.

And suddenly it all came flooding back.  The shot game, the lost bet.  Roger’s heart sped up.  Was he going to a foursome?  Were they all dudes?  His mouth went dry.  While Roger had always been attracted to men, he had never actually slept with one.  He swallowed.  Could he actually do this?  

FUCK.  

--

There was no Emily Post etiquette guide for hosting a foursome, so John decided to wing it.

As he stared down into the homemade pasta sauce, he reasoned that food was a good move.  Food brought people together, and togetherness brought sex. John smiled, satisfied with his ingenious if rather simplistic reasoning.  He stirred the sauce, pausing before adding the browned ground beef. What were the odds that one of them was a vegetarian?  He shrugged and dumped it in.  Not too high.

The doorbell rang and John nearly jumped out of his skin.  It was 6:05, and his guests weren’t due until 6:30.  He frowned, turning the burner on low and moving to the peephole.  

There, on the other side, was the same face he’d viewed in the email, only in living color.  The sharp cheek bones, the elegant nose, the kohl lined eyes.  John couldn’t get the door open fast enough.  

“Freddie,” he almost breathed.  His heart was beating fast and he self-consciously smoothed the hair around his face.  

Freddie’s eyes flicked down to his chest, then back up to his face before he smiled, stepped into his space and smoothly kissed him, steadying his chin with the tips of his fingers.  

John returned the kiss before breaking away, sputtering a little before getting his bearings.  “Do you…do you always greet strangers like that?”

Freddie laughed smoothly. “No, silly.”  He looked down, then back up at him, one neatly trimmed eyebrow cocked slightly.  “But I’m excellent at following instructions.”

John flushed, remembering his ‘Kiss the Cook’ apron, and ushered him inside.  “Um, can I get you something to drink?”  

“I dunno, can you?” Freddie said smoothly as he walked through the living room of John’s flat, taking in every detail.  He was impeccably dressed, John thought as he tracked him through the space.  He stirred the sauce, leaving it to simmer and reached for a bottle of red wine, pouring Freddie a glass.

He handed it to the man who took it gratefully.  “Something smells yummy.  You didn’t have to cook, darling.”  

John smiled, flushing at the epithet.  “It’s just pasta.  It’s nothing.”

Freddie settled on the couch, balancing the wine glass on his knee.  “I hope you don’t mind that I arrived a little early.  I always arrive early to these sorts of things.  It keeps me safe.”  

John nodded.  “That’s smart actually.  I don’t mind at all.  I’m just glad you came.”  

Freddie waggled his eyebrows over his wine glass.  “I always come.”  

John’s blush deepened, and Freddie laughed.  

“I can’t help myself, darling, you’re just so damn cute when you do that.”

John lowered his glass. “Do what?”

“Blush like that. It’s precious.”  

The two of them sat there for a few moments when Gwyneth took that opportunity to rub against Freddie’s leg.  

“What a baby!”  

John laughed as Gwyneth stretched and meowed, looking up at Freddie with affection.  “I think she likes you.”  

Freddie cooed and scratched her head.  “I think I’m in love.”  

--

When Brian arrived, John was busy straining the pasta, so Freddie got the door.  

“Hello, darling,” he said brightly.

Brian looked at Freddie blankly.  “You’re not John.”  

“Come on in!” John called from the kitchen, and Brian side-stepped the man at the door a little nervously to meet the man in the kitchen.  

“Um, sorry darling, but as I was about to say, “I’m Freddie.”  

Brian looked down at the enigmatic man who had a delicate hand stuck out for him to shake.  He took it.  

Brian pressed his lips together.  “Sorry about that earlier.  I uh…I was just expecting John.”  

Freddie patted his arm. “It’s alright love.  We’re all a little jumpy.  Just meeting and all that.  But John is lovely. He even cooked.”  

John appeared behind Brian, a dish towel over his shoulder.  “Hello,” he said.  “I’m John.”

Brian shook his hand, noticing the calloused fingers.  The young man was trim in figure-hugging jeans and a crisp blue shirt that brought out the green in his eyes.  Brian swallowed hard.  

“Brian,” he said a little thinly.  

John smiled, and it went straight to his gut.  “I hope you like pasta Brian.”  He walked to the counter and poured him a glass of wine.

Brian took it from him. “I do actually.  Just no meat sauce.  I’m a vegetarian.”

John looked horrified. “Fuckity fuck,” John he said allowed. “How about a salad?”  

Freddie howled with laughter, the outburst so loud it scared Gwyneth under the couch.  Brian just smiled softly, laying a hand on John’s shoulder.  “That actually sounds lovely John.”

Brian made his way to the couch, followed closely by Freddie.  The other man was observing him very keenly, taking in the softly curling hair and the sharp nose framing the delicate face.  Brian was dressed very casually compared to Freddie, but he was no slouch.  His neat jeans and tan blazer suited his slim physique very well.  

John stared at the clock. It was crowding seven now, and Roger was nowhere to be found.  A little pang of worry stabbed at his heart.  It was possible that he might not show, and that was fine, but he was certainly looking forward to meeting him.  He thought of the blue eyes the photo had hidden that he would never get to see.  

Instead of worrying, he busied himself with plating the pasta and salads.  Brian met him in the kitchen, setting his wine glass down. “Let me give you a hand, John.” His smile was genuine and warm, and John found that he liked it very much.  

With two working it took half the time, and everyone had their food.  Freddie looked around at the empty place setting and frowned. “Where’s number four?”  

John worried his lip. “I don’t really know,” he said honestly. “I’m sure he’ll make it.”  

Freddie smiled sympathetically.  “Sometimes they don’t love.  Nerves and all.”  

Almost on cue, there came a tentative knock at the door.  John stood a little too fast before settling himself down enough to answer it.  He knew before looking through the peephole who it was.  

Roger was dressed in a fashionable leather jacket and matching pants that hugged his figure. His trademark sunglasses were in the collar of his frayed t-shirt, no doubt purchased that way.  His hair was messy-chic.  John couldn’t stop staring at him until those blue eyes popped up to meet his.  “You’re John?”  

“Y-yeah,” he stammered out. “Nice to meet you Roger.”  Roger shook it rather limply as he breezed into the living room, not giving John more than a glance.  He stiffened when he heard voices from the kitchen.  

“There you are!” Freddie called out to him.  “Thought this was going to be a threesome.  And while that’s still lovely, I do hate it when plans change,” he pouted.

Roger turned rather haltingly to face the other two men who had been eating and chatting, getting to know one another.  Brian pointed to the open seat at the table, and Roger took it.  

“Mind if I smoke John?”

John liked his voice…soft but still masculine.  It made his stomach flutter.  And while he smoked, he usually didn’t smoke inside because of Gwyneth. But he supposed—

“That’s fine,” John finally said.  He watched as the fire from the lighter illuminated his fine features; he was certainly very beautiful, this Roger.  

“I made dinner,” John offered, hoping to start a conversation with the man who had said very little since he arrived.  

“Not hungry mate. Thanks though.”  

John frowned a little, and Freddie cleared his throat.  

“Well I’m Freddie, and this is Brian,” the ever talkative Freddie began with the introductions.

“Roger,” the newcomer mumbled around his cigarette.

They resumed eating and things grew quiet and bit awkward as Roger sat there smoking while everyone ate. He was very closed off, like he didn’t want to be there.  John would need to get to the bottom of it if things progressed.  

“Now that we’re all here, I’m a true bottom,” Freddie said matter-of-factly, “so I hope there are some tops among us.”  

John nearly choked on his penne, and Brian had to pat him on the back, a fond smile on his face.  “It doesn’t matter to me either way,” Brian said, his face growing hot.  

“Me neither,” John said quietly.

Roger took a bored drag on his cigarette.  “Top,” he muttered.  

Freddie’s eyes grew wide. “Really…”

Roger snapped his gaze Freddie’s way.  “Yeah, that’s right.  Is that so hard to believe, you wanker?”

Freddie put his hands up in defense.  “No reason to be nasty, love.  Just took me by surprise is all.  You just give off…bottomy vibes.”

Roger stubbed out his cigarette in his empty plate.  “What the FUCK is that supposed to mean?”  

Freddie rolled his eyes. “Nothing darling.  Forget it.”  

Roger had stood, fists balled at his hips, and he was gyrating with anger.  John and Brian were looking on, wide-eyed, wondering where all of this would go.  

Until Freddie stood and hugged the man.  

Roger relaxed into his grip, his head dropping to his shoulder.  He sighed, arms relaxing at his sides.  

“Darling, it’s alright,” Freddie soothed against him.  “It’s all alright now.”  

And when Freddie pulled away, he kissed him softly on the lips.  

Roger hummed in surprise before relenting into the kiss, letting his mouth go pliant against the other man’s and enjoying the faint hint of tomato sauce and chapstick on his tongue. When Freddie released him, he sighed.

“Why—why did you do that?”

Freddie reached up to thumb at his chin.  “Darling, you looked like you needed it.  When’s the last time someone hugged you?”

Roger’s eyes stung with oncoming tears, but he willed them back down.  His lack of an answer was enough for Freddie.  

“Let us take care of you tonight,” he said sweetly.  “Show you true affection.  Make you feel good.”  

“Yeah,” Roger found himself saying.  It sounded so nice, after all, to be truly wanted and cared for, if only for the night.

Brian and John were beside them now, and John leaned in and lay a hand on Roger’s arm.  “Are we ok?”  

Roger nodded, feeling much more at ease.  “Yeah, everything is fine.”  

John smiled.  “Let’s clean up, yeah?  Then maybe we can move this into the bedroom.”  

--

“You uh…You mind if I just watch for a while?”

Roger had gotten his shirt off, and then nerves had taken over.  Freddie was on all fours, moaning into John’s talented fingers as he opened him up, his heavy cock straining with need.  

John shot him a smile. “Sure love.  Do what you’re comfortable with,” he said as he punched another moan out of Freddie, twisting those fingers inside of his tight walls.

Roger eased off the bed before a hand grabbed him.  “Hey,” Brian said, hazel eyes soft with lust.  

Roger swallowed, the tall man’s kind smile making him feel instantly at ease.  

He smiled, his heartrate going down a bit.

“Where are you off to?” Brian answered innocently. He was crowding his space, the bare skin of his chest now flush with his as he bent his head to nose at his hair.  

“That chair in the corner,” Roger said softly.  “I was gonna watch.”

Brian placed a little kiss to his hair.  “Not gonna play?”

Roger’s throat was dry, and he was straining in his trousers.  “Not right now,” he trailed off.

Brian kissed further down the side of his face.  “Pity,” he said as his hands traveled over Rogers bum.

“You ever had a really good blowjob, Roger?  One that makes you feel like you’re exploding into a billion stars?”  Brian finally reached his mouth and locked lips with him, his tongue curling around his, kissing him so deeply it stole Roger’s breath.

Roger moaned in spite of himself, leaning into Brian’s touch.  Brian released him, never breaking eye-contact.  “Well, have you?”  

He answered him truthfully. “I guess not,” he said a little breathlessly.  

Brian smiled.  “That’s what I was hoping you would say.”

“Can you take a fourth finger baby?”  Freddie just moaned, gripping the sheets as he tossed his head back.  John slid it in, delighting in the way Freddie just fluttered around him, drawing him in like he was born to take it.  He worked his fingers in and out of him, hitting his prostate to make him moan.  The sound of Brian going down on Roger was in his ears and it home to John that this foursome dream of his was really happening, this little birthday fantasy of his was real.  

John pressed kisses into Freddie’s neck, making sure his fingers kept up a steady pressure. Freddie just moaned—he was so vocal—and thrust his hips up to meet his fingers.  

“Need your cock,” he finally breathed.  “Give it to me John.”  

Roger shivered as Brian circled the head of his cock with his tongue, licking the slit before descending on him again.  Brian took him all the way to the base, his nose buried in the dark blond hair there, Roger’s hot length stretching his throat with every bob of his head.  

Above him, Roger was coming undone.  He was making little keening sounds as Brian played with his balls while sucking him off, moaning and sputtering that he wouldn’t last long.  It didn’t matter to Brian.  He loved this.  

The man grabbed a handful of his hair just before coming hot and full down his throat, his back arching prettily.  Brian swallowed him down, finally pulling off him when he was sure he was finished.  

Brian dabbed at his mouth as Roger looked at him with a little bit of awe.  

“You good?” he asked Roger as he sat back on his knees, smiling up at him.  

“Incredible,” Roger sighed. “That was better than X.”  

Brian frowned.  “X?”

“Ecstasy? The party drug?” Roger looked perplexed that the man had never heard of it.  

He dug in his pocket and produced a little baggie and handed it to Brian, who pushed it away.  

“Sorry mate, but I’m not down for that.  Brian looked nervously over his shoulder.  John doesn’t look the type either, so I’d put that away if I were you.”

Roger stuffed the baggie of pills back into his pocket.  “Do I look like the type?” he said as he zipped up his fly.  

Brian just sat there, thinking.

Freddie had one hand on his leaking cock, stroking it in rhythm to John’s thrusts.  His head was pressed into the mattress, and he was having the time of his life.  

“Harder John.  Fuck me harder babe.  Like you mean it!”

John loved how vocal Freddie had been to begin with, but now he was being outright bratty.  John hitched Freddie’s hips higher, angling them so he could aim directly at his prostate.  Freddie’s body was slicked with sweat as was his own, so maneuvering them was no easy feat.  He pulled out of Freddie and then slammed back down again.  

“God yes that’s it lover,” Freddie mumbled into the sheets as he set up a blistering pace, wet flesh slapping against each other as he John chased his release.  Freddie was furiously stroking himself, so it wouldn’t be long for him.  Through Freddie’s plaintive, sharp moans, he could feel the crest of his orgasm stop right at the edge.  He tightened his grip on Freddie, emptying into the condom as wave after wave of pleasure gripped him.  Somewhere through the fog he heard Freddie come right after.  

Brian followed Roger into living room, where he was trying to collect his things.  “You’re leaving?”

Roger turned on Brian, his hands on his hips.  “I don’t have much choice, now do I?”

Brian shrugged.  “You always have a choice.”

“I don’t belong here,” Roger said, shaking his head.  “I’m not even gay.”

Brian’s eyes widened. “Are you sure about that?”

Roger shook his head, withdrawing the little baggie of pills.  “Ah fuck it,” he said as he poured a few in his hand.  

Brian approached him slowly. “I can’t let you do that, Roger. Take those pills.  Not on my watch.”

Roger clutched the pills in his hand tightly to his chest.  “What the fuck do you care, Brian?   You’re just some guy who blew me off.  You don’t know me?”  He was vibrating with rage, his eyes wide.  “You don’t own me!”

Brian shook his head. “Listen to yourself.  You sound like a child.  We’re talking about drugs, here, Roger.  You could seriously hurt yourself.”  

“Yeah well, I hope I do,” He spat.  

Brian had no choice. “John!  Freddie!  I need you in here!”

The two of them came rushing in, John in a robe and Freddie struggling into pants.  “Brian, what’s wrong?”  

“Roger has drugs,” Brian got out quickly.  “Ecstasy. He’s about to take some.”  

Freddie stepped forward between them.  “Oh darling that shit is hell on you.  You don’t want to do that.  Tell me what’s up.”  

Roger relaxed a little. “Nothing,” he whispered. The pills were sweating and melting in his hand.  “I just needed to get out of my head for a little while.”

John was watching the proceedings, trying not to panic.  No way did he want drugs in his house, but he also didn’t want to see Roger hurt.  

Freddie nodded.  “I so understand that love.  That’s why I hook up a lot.  Sex helps me forget some nasty things in my past and some things that are going on in my daily you know?  It’s a nice escape.  Plus it’s legal and it doesn’t hurt me as long as I’m safe.”  

Roger’s hand relaxed a little on the pills.  “Yeah that makes sense,” he conceded.  “I’m glad you have that.”  

Freddie nodded again, getting close enough to Roger to smooth some of the hair that hung around his face behind his ear.  Roger seemed to lean into his touch.  “Did you enjoy your time with Brian, him?  Freddie couldn’t keep the wicked smile from his face.  “Sure sounded liked you did.”  

Roger smiled then. “Yeah it was really nice.”

“I bet.  Might have to see how nice it is, huh Brian?” Freddie said as he threw a wink over his shoulder at Brian who just laughed at him, shaking his head.  

Freddie grabbed Roger’s hand.  “Give me these darling…they’re all melted now, anyway.  Come have some fun with us instead.”  

Roger’s lips were dry as Freddie pried the pills from his grip.  “I’ve never…I’ve never been with a man,” he admitted.  

“A virgin?!” Freddie gasped, “Oh our boy’s a virgin…we’ll have to take extra special care of him won’t we boys?”  

Freddie discreetly handed off the baggie of pills and the few tablets to John who promptly went into the bathroom to flush them.  

“Yes,” he said as he stroked his face.  “We’ll take extra good care of you love.  You won’t have to worry about a thing.”  

--

Brian stroked the young man’s face as John worked on the fly of his dark jeans, easing them down his hips. His cock sprung free…no pants underneath, and John smiled, stroking him lightly.  Freddie hummed, squeezing Brian’s buttocks as he wrapped an arm around his waist.

“You sure you’re ok with this Roger?”  John’s voice was husky with want, his eyes flicking up briefly from the young man’s cock to his blue eyes where they looked down at him expectantly.  

“Yes,” Roger said, leaning into Brian’s hand on his face, his eyes fluttering closed.  “I want this.”

Freddie smiled, tightening his arms around Brian.  They walked Roger back until his legs touched the bed.  He sat down, easing onto the soft comforter while they helped him scoot back.  Brian was between his legs in an instant, easing between his thighs to skate his hands along his chest and arms while Freddie cradled his head in his lap.  Roger’s eyes were wide, his lips slightly parted in a pretty bow, and John bent to kiss them, unable to help himself.  

Roger sighed, giving himself over to the kiss, letting his tongue dart out to meet John’s as his arms strained against Freddie hands.  At some point, the dark-haired man had pressed his arms down into the mattress.

Roger panicked for a split second, then the thrill of the restraint sank into his bones, and he truly felt free.  

“That’s it baby,” Freddie soothed, “Just let go and let us take over.”  Roger stared up into the man’s soft brown eyes, feeling a strange sense of peace.

Brian was making slow circles on his hip, thumbing the sensitive skin there.  “Roger,” he said softly.  “Do you want to top?”  His hazel eyes bore into his.  “It’s your first time.  It’s easier that way.”

Roger worried his lip. “No,” he said firmly.  “I want to do it like Freddie did.”  

Freddie smirked a little, still stroking his hair.  “I knew it. He’s a natural bottom.”  

John giggled a little, tossing Brian the lube.  “Open him up nice and slow Brian.  Your fingers are slender.”  

John crawled over to Freddie, pulling his head up and kissing him firmly.  Freddie groaned into John’s mouth, letting his hand slide up his chest.  “Up for round two love?”  

John just hummed.  “Maybe.  Maybe not. On your knees, True Bottom.”  John pushed Freddie down on his knees, smacking his bum on the way down.  Freddie fell forward, grunting as he hit the mattress, landing on all fours.  

He shivered as John climbed up behind him. He could feel his warm breath on the back of his thigh, whispering over his bum as John’s hands settled there.  He parted his cheeks, and Freddie hardly had time to catch his breath before John had licked a hot strip up the cleft of his buttocks.  

“Fuck!” Freddie cried out, his whole body jerking under John’s mouth.  John smiled against him, and Freddie felt the wry grin against his skin.

Brian eased a pillow beneath Roger’s hips, watching Roger for any sign of discomfort.  He betrayed none; he seemed as relaxed as he did when Freddie was cradling his head.  Indeed, Freddie had now clasped the blond’s hand while being eaten out, a look of sheet bliss on his face, and Roger gripped it tightly.

“We’re going to do this very slowly, Roger.  It will feel different at first, but then it will feel good, ok?”  

Roger nodded his head, taking in a breath.  

Brian tutted.  “Don’t hold your breath love.  Blow it out for me.  Just try to relax, ok?  I’m not going to hurt you.”  

Brian smiled at him, and Roger returned it.  Brian had the sweetest, most genuine smile, and while he didn’t really know the man, he knew instinctively that he could trust him.  

He warmed the lube in is fingers before circling Roger’s entrance with smooth, calculated movements, relaxing the tight muscle.  He pushed one in, and Roger jumped a little.  

“How does that feel Roger? Talk to me.”  

“Different,” he breathed. “Not bad.”  

Brian smiled.  He began working the finger in and out of Roger rhythmically until he felt Roger relax around him, then he added a second.

Roger jerked, a little half-moan escaping his lips.  Brian cocked an eyebrow.  “Is that better?”  

“Y-yeah,” Roger stammered. “It’s ok.”  

Brian aimed for his prostate, finding the little bundle of nerves in moments, and Roger nearly folded in half.  “Just ok?”

Roger was panting, a fine sweat on his brow, and he unconsciously thrust onto Brian’s fingers. “So good,” he said, his grip on Freddie’s hand tightening.  

Freddie preened.  “Look at you baby boy—ahh—taking those fingers so well.  I knew you could do it.”

Freddie looked ruined, very near coming, and the sounds coming from John were bordering on obscene. Roger couldn’t see him, but whatever he was doing to Freddie it sounded like he was enjoying it.

Brian twisted the fingers against him, making him writhe and squirm, until he added a third.  

Roger winced at the sting, the stretch of a third finger, but Brian was gentle in coaxing him open. He was leaned over him, planting little kisses on his collarbone, his throat, and finally smothering his moans with his own mouth.  It all felt so intimate, not at all like his drug-fueled shags.  Tears began to spring in his eyes.  

Brian noticed immediately. “Roger, am I hurting you?  He lost the fingers immediately.  “Talk to me, Roger.”  

“No,” Roger choked out. “Give me more please.”  

John laughed as he was helping Freddie clean up.  “You’ve got him begging Brian.   So beautiful for us.”  

The fingers returned, a little rougher this time, a little more insistent.  Roger’s legs were open wide and he was almost swallowing Brian’s hand.

“You’re ready, gorgeous. I think my work here is done.” Brian withdrew his hand, wiping it on his thigh, and met John in the middle of the bed.  He kissed him deeply.  “You have him nice and open for me?” Brian murmured softly.

John nodded.  “He’s all yours.  I bet you can get him to come again.”  

Brian squeezed John’s arm, locking eyes with him.  “Be gentle with Roger.”

John blinked up at him. “Of course Bri,” he said, using his sign off from his email.  “I wouldn’t dream of hurting him.”  

Brian smiled.  “I know.”

John crawled over to Roger, who was still red-faced, his chest heaving.  He leaned over him, giving him a tender kiss.  “Hello love.  Don’t you look ravishing like this?”

John cradled his face in his hand, then trailed it down his chest to tease at a nipple.  “I’m going to take good care of you, yeah?”

Roger only nodded, his eyes half-lidded, lips kiss-swollen and irresistible.  

John slid on a condom, coating it with lube.  He pressed against Roger’s open entrance, letting his cockhead push at the rim.  He looked up at Roger.  “We don’t have to do this.  It’s up to you.”  

Roger shook his head. “I want it,” he said throwing his back into the pillow.  “Give it to me.”  

John pushed gently inside, watching Roger’s intake of breath, is fluttering eyelids at the sudden onslaught of being filled.  He gave him a moment to adjust, the vice-like grip of him around him, hot and incredibly tight driving him mad with the need to move.  

“I’m ok,” Roger said finally.  “Go ahead.”

He had one arm over his face and his lip between his teeth, but for his first time he was taking cock so well.  John basically made love to him…slow, measured strokes, his face buried in his shoulder and his hips undulating over his.  He had one hand on Roger’s cock, slowly stroking it in time with his thrusts.  

Then Roger started kissing him…hungry, desperate kisses that made the fire rise in his blood.  That, coupled with the feeling of how bloody close they were, their bodies nearly fused together, made John want to give it to him just a little harder.  

“Hitch your legs around me baby.  Come on, that’s it.”  John increased his pace, and little whines started coming from the back of Roger’s throat.

“You doing ok?”  

Roger nodded furiously. “Gonna come,” he managed.  

Freddie and Brian rolled over close to the couple, Freddie taking over for John by working Roger’s cock, and Brian sweeping the hair back from John’s neck and placing an encouraging kiss there.  

John could feel his own orgasm building, a tightly packed explosion of euphoria ready to burst at any moment. It was finally punched out of him when Roger looked up at him with those blue eyes and said “Just let go…” He had been the one who had been so careful with him, but it finally took permission from Roger for him to get release.  

With Freddie’s help, Roger came right after.  

The four of them lay beautifully spent, bodies sweating and coming down from their highs.  Roger lit a cigarette and shared it with Freddie.  

“We never cut the birthday cake,” John mused.  

Brian laughed.  “What time is it?”  

Someone looked at their phone.  “10:20.”

Roger smiled.  “Well, it’s still your birthday.”  

John laughed.  “Indeed it is.  Who’s up for some post-coital cake?”

Freddie grimaced.  “That does not sound right.”

They all tumbled out of bed toward the kitchen where John dished up the plates and began serving cake.

John flushed.  “Um, before you go, you’re free to use the shower. Freshen up a bit if you like.  Or, you could stay over…”  

Something flashed in their eyes, and they all shared a look.  

“I’m actually off tomorrow,” Freddie said.

“I don’t work until nighttime,” Roger added.

“My shift at the coffee shop doesn’t start until ten,” Brian replied.

John brightened.  “Well, that’s great!  I mean, I wouldn’t want you traveling so late and all.  Let’s take our cake back to bed, shall we?”  

John gathered up the plates and began to traipse back to the bedroom, but as soon as he got out of sight, Freddie grabbed a piece of paper and put his phone number on it, then gave it to Brian and then Roger and let them do the same.  At the bottom, he wrote “Happy Birthday” with a heart and stuck it on the fridge for John to find later.  Then, all three of them followed John back into the bedroom to finish their cake.

-0-0-0-

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #244

“you could stand me up at the gates of hell, but i won’t back down.”

What accent do you find most difficult to understand? Heavy southern. Has your music taste changed over the years? Not very. I do like more indie stuff now than I used to, though. What movie never fails to make you cry? The Notebook. What movies do you think need a sequel? Hm... I'm sure there's plenty, but they're evading me for now. Let's see... yeah idk. Do you have to see it to believe it? I mean it depends; see what exactly? But in general, yeah. I believe in spirits, maybe even auras, stuff like that. What was the last thing you bought for yourself? Food. Do you like 3D movies? Yeah, they're cool. Have you ever had breakfast in bed? Not the "my partner brought me food and it's romantic" type of way; I've just eaten breakfast food in bed. Have you ever practiced kissing on a stuffed animal? No, that's always been. p wild to me. Do you still talk to your childhood friends? A few. True/False: You live with your parents. Just one. At the dinner table do you always sit in the same chair? We rarely eat at the table, but generally, yes. Is your signature legible? I think so. Have you met any bands/singers? No. Have you ever witnessed a miracle? No. Do you know someone that looks better as they age? *shrugs* Do you know the order of the colors of the rainbow? Yes. Do you sometimes wish you were the opposite gender? No. Have you ever kissed a picture? of who? I don’t think so. Did/do you distract your teachers to get them to tell you stories? I didn't really speak in class unless I was pretty sure I had the answer to a question or had a serious question myself. Who makes you feel like you’re worth something? My mom, more than anyone. Do you remember a lot of your childhood? Yeah. I have a crazy vivid long-term memory. How many pets is too many? Depends on available space as well as what you can afford to care for sufficiently. Do you stare at dead people in a movie to see if you can catch them moving? lol no. Does your hand fit inside a Pringles container? Probably. I can curl my thumb really inward to make space. Do you know who your maid of honor/best man will be? Sara, unless I end up marrying her lmao. In that case, it'd be Mom. If you had the opportunity to be famous, would you take it? I don't like the term "famous" for me personally, but rather "well-known" for a photographer. What is your favorite healthy snack? Strawberries, I guess? What is the best song by your favorite artist/band? I HAVE TO???????? PICK???????????? Oh jeez. At least right now, "Time" is one that I hold incredibly close to my heart and usually brings me to tears because it reminds me of Teddy. It's just a beautiful song. I'd say overall, probably "Trap Door." It's cool as hell. How many times did your phone ring today? None. What theme do you want for your wedding? Halloween/fall-ish. How much do you spend a month on make-up? Nothing. Do you have any of your future children’s names picked out? I don't want kids, but if I did, Alessandra Quinn is the girl and my spouse cannot argue, and I'd love Damien Vance or Damien Victor for a boy. What was your favorite childhood meal? Spaghetti. Would you ever date someone over the internet? I don't *think* I'd do it again, no, unless it was Sara and we were actually making arrangements to move in together ASAP. Do you find it hard to believe that a dinosaur was once right where you are? No, but rather cool as hell. What is your favorite part of the movie “The Lion King”? The intro (up to where the title pops up, not just NAAAAAAAAAAAAASEBENYAAAAAAAAAAA). It's just... magical. I, without fail, get goosebumps all over and smile. Do you have any bug bites atm? No. Do you knock before entering someone’s room? Yeah. What was the last thing you shot in the garbage? Like, shot as a basketball? Probably just paper or something. Would you freak out if you saw a spider crawling on you right now? Fuck yes I would. Who did you last call beautiful? Venus, my snake. Have you ever used a tanning bed? Nooooooo. Do you think people will eventually stop believing in God? Oh, absolutely not. The belief in some sort of higher power has evolved since the dawn of civilization, so why would it stop? Do you and your best friend have the same favorite band? No. Do you prefer watching movies or playing video games? Vidya games. Have you ever been go-cart racing? Ha ha yeah, fun. Up in NY with my cousins. How many jobs have you had in your life? Three. Does your shower have a door or curtains? Two curtains. Do you have any posters of your favorite band on your walls? Metallica and Manson, yeah. Are you good at remembering names? NOOOOOOOO. Have you been outside today? No. Have you ever walked the opposite direction on an escalator? No. When making pancakes, do you try to make cool shapes/pictures? No. Do you use your hand when you’re explaining something? Oh yeah. Do you play a lot of video games? Not anymore, really. I would, but I can't afford a new console. I want a PS4 super badly (hell, even a PS3) to play new games, especially ones I haven't seen let's plays of. You can only replay a game so many times before you get bored, y'know? The only game I play regularly is WoW and that's because it has like... endless content to do. Who is your favorite Disney princess? Probably Jasmine. What word do you hate that people use often? (yolo, derp..) None off the top of my head. I just don't care. When was the last time you had hiccups? Idr. Have you ever thrown up from drinking too much alcohol? No. Do you ever buy the same piece of clothing, just in different colors? No. What is the last movie you saw in a theater? The live action The Lion King, I think. How many bank accounts do you have? I don't think I even have one... I know Mom was talking about opening me up one, but like, why. I don't make an income. Have you ever been falsely accused of starting drama? Oh sure. Do you attend church regularly? I never go. Have you ever been to Dairy Queen? Good. Shit. They have THE best chocolate milkshakes. Do you tend to worry a lot? Only always! How old were you when you lost your first tooth? Idr. Do you remember your first time on the internet? Not really, no. Which website do you email from? Hotmail. Do you enjoy receiving souvenirs? Yeah. Do a lot of people dislike you or is it the other way around? Idk. Have you ever had the flu? No, knock on wood. What about strep throat? Yeah. Would you ever consider going on a cruise? No. What is your biggest insecurity? My more "different" interests/hobbies. Have you ever painted a room alone? No. Speaking of which, when did you last paint your room? Never. Have you ever had a terrible hangover? No. Do you ever get migraines? Rarely. Do you know how to garden? I mean, I could put it together... What was the last thing you plugged into an outlet? A phone charger. Do people consider you to be a funny person? I don't know. Do you like children? No. If not, why is this? I'm just... uncomfortable and feel like I'm playing with slime against my will or some shit any time I'm in their presence. I don't like how they stare, I don't like how rude they can be, I hate how demanding they are of attention (YES, I am aware that is healthy behavior for the baby of a social species, I just can't provide it), they ask too many questions... I have a lot of reasons I don't like them. Is there a big age difference between you and the person you like? No. What is the most amusing thing on the internet, in your opinion? YouTube, I guess? Does the future excite you or scare you? Both. What do you plan on doing with the rest of your life? I don't want to think on this. How many huge secrets do you have? I don't know about *huge* secrets... How many people know these secrets? ^ How many times a day do you brush your teeth? Once. Do you ever floss? Not really, oops. Have you ever been in a long-term relationship? Two. Ever considered suicide? Yes. If so, did you try to commit suicide? Yes. Is there anyone out there who makes you feel completely useless? No. Do you like texting or calling people more? TEXTING. Don't call me omg. Have you ever painted something and been impressed by it? Yeah. When did you last babysit, if ever? I actually did last week in an emergency situation with my nephew. I was the one and only person capable due to everyone being sick. I was scared as shit and very anxious the whole time, but I did it. Ultimately, it was a good bonding experience for us. Do you have any younger siblings? Yes, one sister. Have you ever thought of someone as useless? I'm sure I've thought of myself like that before. Have you ever considered bleaching your hair? Not to remain blonde, no, but I did that on the occasion I dyed it purple, I think. Do you drink vitamin water? No. Are there any old movies you absolutely love? Well of course. Have you ever had a Big Mac before? No, it doesn't appeal to me. Do you think you attract the opposite sex at a reasonable rate? I don't know or care. Where is your favorite place to travel? Mountainous and wooded areas. What is your goal for the next few months? Do well in school, get back into driving, maybe get a job I can actually handle. Can you count to ten in another language other than your own? German, yeah. And I think Spanish. Have you ever played on a sports team before? Yeah. If you have, what was that sport and when? All of these are from when I was a young kid. T-ball/softball, basketball, cheerleading, soccer... I think that's it? Oh wait, dance for many years as a pre-teen/teen. Have you ever filed a lawsuit on someone? No. Do you think you’re a good singer? Not really. Do you think you have a good sense of style? I don't care. What matters is I myself like what I wear. Do you enjoy reading often? No... but I want to get back into it. Have you ever had a deadly illness? No, thank goodness. Ever had food-poisoning before? No. Where did you last eat dinner at? Like, eat out? I think it was a local Mexican restaurant with Mom and the sis. Have you ever shot a gun before? No. Where do you apply cologne or perfume? My neck and just generally around my torso. I don't really pay attention to exactly where. What completely and totally disgusts you and turns you off? Disrespect is what came to mind first this instance. What song makes you laugh when you hear it? I'unno. Do you take surveys hoping someone will see your answers or just ‘because’? Just because. It's a time-killer and a way for me to just. Talk. Not at anyone, just to get thoughts out of my head. It's therapeutic to me. What’s your favorite flavor of ice cream? Chocolate or vanilla, depending on my mood. What diet could you never do? "Raw." <<<< Yeah. Do you have a curfew? No, not that I ever leave the house. Do you actually like your job? N/A What is the last song you sang? I think it was "Ordinary Man" by Ozzy feat. Elton John. GOD I am ready for this album. Describe the best kiss you’ve ever experienced: Bro idk I've had a lot of those and I've never like ranked them in my head. Think to the last time someone said thank you to you, what had you done to earn it? I commented on my friend's picture that she was fUCKING BEAUTIFUL. Grab your cellular. When did you last receive a text message? Like three hours ago. Is there anything that’s worrying you at the moment? Just a lot. Honestly, do you wish there was someone still in your life who used to be but for whatever reason isn’t anymore? I mean yeah, there' s multiple people like that. Who in your household do you not have a good relationship with? My sister's dog. Who in your life are you scared to lose more than anything? Mom.