#i know i can climb up to a better position in that or another museum in the future

[jackredfieldwasmyjacob]

the girl from my master's who's currently doing the phd on the ucm and helps me out with opportunities cause she's the best just asked me what oposiciones i was studying for and just typing it out made me realise how much of a loser i am and how shitty this whole situation is lmao

[tsukishumai]

pairing: tsukishima kei x f!reader wc; 2.2k tags; fluff, coworkers to lovers? a/n: quick fic for my bby lol happy birthday tsukki <33

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Tsukishima Kei was tired.

Stepping out into the cold, autumn evening, he rubs his hands together in an attempt to warm his frozen fingers. He thinks the blister he feels forming on his pinky toe was a sign for him to get a new pair of shoes, and this fact was solidified by the ache in his arch with each step he took towards the bus stop.

The day had been longer than most. Maybe if he hadn’t let his brother drag him to the gym and play pick-up games last night, then perhaps his body wouldn’t have felt so sore this morning. And if his body hadn’t been so sore in the morning, then he might have had the energy to grab coffee before work, possibly even pack himself a quick lunch. His mood would have presumably been at least mildly better throughout the day, and he had no doubt that he would have been able to continue on with his work swiftly, and efficiently.

But Tsukishima had learned at a young age that things don’t always work out for him the way he wants them to.

He wasn’t trying to be rude when you came to ask him about his tour schedule, but did you have to burst through his office door so loudly? He felt bad for 2.3 seconds as he watched your smile slowly melt into a frown, but he was way too irked when you rolled your eyes at him when he asked you to knock.

And it wasn’t his fault that he bought the last tuna onigiri from the food stand outside the museum. He forgot to pack lunch, and he was hungry, too. He probably shouldn’t have unwrapped and eaten it right in front of your face, but he doesn’t appreciate getting dirty looks for ordering a meal.

You’re newer to the museum, he knows that. As someone with seniority, he should be a little more helpful, and he could probably work on improving his sociability just a tiny bit, but his patience could only run so thin. It’s not like you ever listened to him anyway.

Should he have told you to figure out the volunteer’s schedule on your own because ‘even a monkey with a banana could do it on their own’? Okay, maybe not.

But did you have to snap at him to ‘keep the stick up his own ass and leave yours alone’ when he warned your tours took too long, and you’d end up leaving late? No, and that’s the last time Tsukishima will ever try to offer advice to a newbie.

Tsukishima sighed. He was tired.

His stomach growled out loud as he pressed the button for the crosswalk, slowly moving to rub his palm along his belly. He’s wondering if he has anything he could make at his apartment. When an image of a rotting bunch of scallions and moldy tomatoes dying in his refrigerator drawer comes to mind, he thinks he’s probably better off grabbing a bento from the convenience store down the street.

The light switches from red to green, and just before Tsukishima steps down from the curb, he feels an arm delicately wrap around his own.

“Hey, babe,” a familiar, annoyingly cheery voice greets him, and he has to stop himself from grimacing when he looks down and his eyes meet yours.

Tsukishima doesn’t think you’ve ever touched him once — not in the last six months since you’ve become his coworker. He had bowed when you were first introduced, and Tsukishima had never been one to hand out hugs or high fives.

He attributes the deep blush that spread across his cheeks to this fact, and not to the feeling of your chest pressed tightly against his side.

“What the —“

“You almost left without me,” you pouted, and Tsukishima nearly tripped over his feet when you swing your body around to switch positions with him, “You’re so silly!”

“Uh,” Tsukishima stammers at the situation at hand, but he stills when he feels your grip tighten painfully around his bicep, and your eyes narrow and widen.

From behind your shoulder, Tsukishima sees it.

The streets were not too crowded, but they weren’t empty. From both sides of the sidewalk, Tsukishima watched as people silently walked past each other in a valiant effort to get home.

This was why Tsukishima almost didn’t notice the man standing beside the lamp post just fifteen feet back, his face half covered by a mask, hoodie pulled all the way over his head with the bill of a black hat just peeking out.

Tsukishima’s blood ran cold when he realized the man is watching you clutch onto him, and Tsukishima does not react when he can feel your nails dig through the material of his sweater.

A look of panic briefly flashes in your eyes when Tsukishima places his hand on top of yours and gently pulls your grip off his sleeve.

“You’re going to ruin my sweater,” Tsukishima mumbles as he drags his hand down the length of your arm and intertwines his fingers with yours. Your mouth drops open in shock when he gives your hand a tight squeeze, “Sweetie.”

He doesn’t wait for you to regain your composure before he drags you across the street. As soon as Tsukishima’s foot lands on the other curb, he glances back at the direction from which you came.

The capped-man was now slowly walking forward, reaching the crosswalk just as the light turned red once more.

Tsukishima quickened his pace down the silent sidewalk, globes of orange light shining down each lamp post you walked past. You said nothing of the sweat that accumulated between both of your nervous palms, still gripping onto Tsukishima’s hand tightly. The size of it nearly engulfs your own, and your hold on him was the only thing allowing you to somewhat keep up with the pace of his strides.

“My bus stop is right over there,” you mumble quietly, and Tsukishima silently thanked the gods you were going the same direction.

He could feel your fingers trembling against his, and Tsukishima gives you a light squeeze.

He wasn’t sure what to do. He was never one to comfort another, and he had never really been in a situation before. But something akin to an ember of rage had been stoked within him as soon as he saw some strange man’s greedy little eyes stuck on you.

The bus arrived just five minutes later, and Tsukishima stayed close behind as you climbed inside. You were lucky enough to find two vacant seats, and you slid into the one beside the window. Tsukishima occupies the aisle seat, stretching his legs out slightly as he watches the stream of people entering and leaving the bus.

It was after an old woman carrying groceries clambered into a seat behind the bus driver did Tsukishima notice him.

He sat by the very front while the two of you occupied seats in the back. A pair of sunglasses now completely masked all of his features, but Tsukishima didn’t need to see his eyes to know who they were trained on.

When you look up at him, dazed and slightly terrified, he gives you a tight-lipped smile. He lets go of your hand, and his heart breaks a little when he sees your eyes dart around in panic. Wordlessly, he reaches over and wraps his arms around your shoulders, pulling you close into his side.

You had always been so hot-headed — loud, and passionate, and animated about everything that you do. Tsukishima had known you were trouble from the moment you rearranged one of his displays without even thinking about consulting him, and you had honestly been a headache ever since. You challenged him at every turn, corrected him when he didn’t ask for it, and it was obvious to Tsukishima that you were much too big for him to handle.

But at the moment, feeling so small as you trembled tucked beneath his arm, Tsukishima could only think that he never wanted to see you like this ever again.

His heart crumbles a little when you rest your head against his shoulder.

“So,” Tsukishima’s voice vibrated against your cheek, “The tours ran a bit too long today, didn’t they?”

Tsukishima bites the inside of his cheek to stop himself from laughing when you turn your head to face him, an incredulous expression decorating your features.

“Is now really an appropriate time for an ‘I told you so’,” You hissed, “You never miss a chance, do you?”

Now, a smug smile has fully settled onto his lips, “Never have, never will.”

You land a punch on Tsukishima’s wide open ribs, and he flinches to the side with a slight ‘oof’. But he tightens his arm around you even more. Swirls of pine and citrus began to calm your nerves, and it took you too long to realize you were inhaling Tsukishima’s cologne. He smelled as clean as he looked, and even after a full day of work, not a single hair of his was out of place.

Your stop was four after Tsukishima’s. He carried your bag from your shoulders as you climbed out of your seat. He stepped aside to allow you to lead the way, but Tsukishima’s chest was nearly pressed against your back with how closely he followed behind.

You hadn’t expected Tsukishima to follow you this far, and as you walked a few steps towards the direction of your apartment, you turned to thank Tsukishima for his aid.

You whip your head side to side when you find that he was no longer walking behind you, curious to see that he was waiting two feet away from the bus’ exit.

You briefly wondered what he was waiting for, and your heart shattered down to the ground when you see the familiar stranger that had been following you since you exited your office building slowly step out.

You didn’t even notice him climb onto the bus. Had he really been there the entire time? Oh god, was he planning to follow you all the way home? Your head begins to spin at the dangerous possibilities that could have unfolded.

“Are you lost?” Tsukishima’s voice was cold and stern, and you could hear it clearly from where you stood.

You watched as the hooded man jolted, clearly shocked at the question directed to him. His face still remained perfectly hidden, but you could tell from his body language that he was not expecting to be addressed.

Tsukishima towered over him, but his six foot five stature had towered nearly everyone. The eyes behind his dark-rimmed glasses were narrowed in a glare, and Tsukishima stayed planted in front of your intruder.

“Oh — uh, i— no, just —“

“It’s that way,” Tsukishima didn’t wait for the man to finish his stammering, pointing a long finger towards the opposite direction of your home.

The man didn’t need to be told twice. He twirled on his heels, looking over his shoulders only to see Tsukishima watch as he walked away into the night.

You were frozen, mouth hung so wide open, you were pretty sure bugs had flown in. Tsukishima makes his way back to you, stopping to wrap his arms around your shoulders once again. He tilts his head down at you, looking softly as he asks, “Which way?”

You were at a loss for words, choosing instead to simply lead the way. Tsukishima remained draped over you, like a blanket of protection warding off all evil.

The silence that engulfed the two of you felt comfortable, and on any other day, you might have been appalled to be in such close contact with Tsukishima Kei.

But today, you felt safe. You felt comfort, and relief, and you relax against him, perfectly protected under Tsukishima’s wing.

You sneak a glance up at him, biting your lip as you turn the words you want to say over in your head.

“Tsukishima,” you start, chewing on your lips, “Thank yo—“

“My last tour is usually at 4:45,” he interrupts you, squeezing his hand on your shoulder, “I try to catch up on some paperwork before leaving but…”

He trails off, and you stay silent in fear of ruining what he’s trying to tell you.

He shifts his head away from you as he says, “If you wait for me, I could walk you home.”

You stop in your tracks, looking up at him with a smile. Tsukishima pointedly avoids your gaze, but it’s difficult when he’s keeping you pinned beside him.

“I’d like that,” you mumble before pointing back at the apartment building he hadn’t noticed, “This is my place.”

Tsukishima finally deigns to let you go, stepping back and brushing his fingers through his hair.

“Shorten your tours,” he grumbles out, turning his body back the direction from where he came, “And don’t forget to itemize each piece that comes in for the Date Masumane exhibit tomorrow.”

You stare at him dumbfounded before bursting out in giggles, bringing your hand up in a mock salute.

“I owe you one,” you call out, watching him retreat back from where he came.

He waves you off.

“I like black coffee,” he calls back over his shoulder, “Do what you will with that information.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

rbs v appreciated <33

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Portrait of a Dangerous Man🎨2

Warnings: (series) non-consent sex and rape; slow creep; cucking; (this chapter) nothing as yet.

This is dark!mob!Clark Kent x reader and explicit. 18+ only.  Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Synopsis: Your dream of having your work hung in an art show comes true but your first buyer is not all he seems to be.

Note: Thank you for your positive response to this one! I hope you enjoy what I have in store.

Thanks to everyone for reading and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 As usual, I’d appreciate if you let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

Your Spotify list of redundant tracks flowed through the apartment as you sat typing at your small desk in the corner of the front room. The boxy space was as oppressive as any office space, another reason for your voluntary work at the gallery. Vanessa let you in the studio to paint. Without the privilege, you wouldn’t have the space for your easel.

You stretched your fingers and rubbed your eyes. You felt dizzy from staring at the screen, even with night mode on. The work was monotonous and made you restless. You wanted a pencil or brush in hand, a canvas before you, not this blaring laptop. You yawned and took a sip of your lukewarm water.

Your phone vibrated from across the room and you checked the time. Your lunch started soon but no one was really keeping track. As long as you got your assignments done, it didn’t matter when you chewed on toast and disassociated.

You got up and grabbed your phone from the corner table and leaned against the arm of the couch. You remembered how Marcus woke up there and grumbled as he lifted his head in pain. You couldn’t really feel bad for him going into work hungover. He embarrassed you and it didn’t quite sink in until after Clark left you to stare down at your drunk boyfriend.

An unknown number showed on your screen and you answered tentatively, ready to hang up at the first sales pitch. Your name came from the speaker and you recognized the deep voice in an instant. It took you back to the night before and the canvas hung on the wall.

“I hope I’m not disturbing you,” Clark said, “I only just had the paintings hung and I thought… well, I thought you might like to come see them in their new home.”

“Um…” you chewed your thumb, uncertain how to respond.

“Sorry, I know I can be a bit… to the point,” he laughed at himself, “how are you?”

“I’m good, just… taking a break.”

“You working?”

“Yeah, but I work from home,” you said as you touched the side of your neck, “I could… I could come see them but it might be a while before--”

“When are you finished work?” he asked bluntly.

“Four but I… maybe another day.”

“I don’t mean to be pushy but I did have something else to speak with you about,” he said, “a commission, like I mentioned.”

“Oh?”

“I kinda wanna get it started sooner than later, it will probably be pretty time-consuming,” he explained and you heard a clink and a soft sip, “I don’t wanna get into details on the phone but I promise, you will be compensated nicely.”

“You can’t wait until tomorrow?” you wondered.

“I suppose I can but it’d have to be during the day,” he responded, “why don’t you take some time to figure it out and get back to me by two? You can text me through this number.”

“Erm, sure,” you said uneasily, “I’m sorry, it’s just… very sudden, I don’t--”

“You can bring the boyfriend,” he said casually, “if you like.”

“He won’t be… home,” you said carefully, “I’ll let you know. Thank you.”

“I look forward to hearing from you,” he replied, “have a good day.”

“You, too,” you said and the line died.

You put your phone down and took a moment. Good things rarely happened to you. You struggled so long it was hard to think that might change. The skeptic in you told you there was something behind it all. That it couldn’t possibly be your art.

You went back to your computer and sighed as you waved away the screensaver with your mouse. The blinking cursor made you want to believe it was your big break.

🎨

You texted Clark at one and at four, you were in an Uber. Marcus drove his car to work and you stuck to buses and the underground when you could. The address was at least an hour out, the house among those estates on the edge of the city reserved for the upper echelon. You’d only ever seen the sprawling yards on your way to the next town.

When the car finally turned up the drive and you passed beyond a low brick wall, you felt entirely out of your depth. You tipped the Uber but didn’t feel too bad with the check from Vanessa sitting soundly in your account. You clutched the strap of your bag and walked along the curve of the brick work towards the stairs.

“Hey,” you stopped as Clark called to you, your ankle still tender from the night before.

You glanced over as he came out of the large garage and peeled off a pair of leather gloves. He smiled as he tucked them into his jacket pocket. You watched him and played with the clasp on your bag.

“Just got back from a drive,” he said, “I almost got carried away. I’m glad you made it.”

“Yeah, no problem,” you replied.

“Well, come on, let me show you around,” he waved behind you towards the front doors, “we’ll go on a tour and then we can talk details.”

“Wow,” you uttered mindlessly as you climbed the stairs to the door but kept the weight on your uninjured ankle, “this place is huge.”

“My contractor went a little crazy,” he scoffed, “but I can’t complain.”

He led you through the doors and directed you to the left. In the front room, your work was hung along the opposite wall, arranged in a way that drew the eye to them. You stepped closer and peered up at your work with a hint of awe. They looked even better in a place like that.

“I had my interior designer make the final call on where to hang them,” he explained, “I hope you don’t mind, I gave her your details. She said she had clients who might be interested in your work.”

“Really?” you breathed, “that’s… too nice.”

“Oh yeah? One day, you’ll be sick of rich pricks like me,” he grinned, “I’ll show you the pool, that’s usually the main attraction.”

“Sounds good,” you said as you followed but he paused and watched your stunted gait.

“I forgot, we can go slow,” he offered, “how’s the ankle?”

“I’ll make do,” you affirmed as you neared him, “just need to get my steps in.”

🎨

As you finished the tour of the second floor, you slowed along the long hall and admired the work of artists you only ever saw in museums. You couldn’t help but be enamoured by the historic blots of paint. You almost forgot where you were as you leaned in to read the initials beneath the pastel flowers.

“So,” Clark’s voice brought you back, you almost blanked him out entirely in your mind, “I think you might have noticed the empty space above the fireplace in the front room. I was hoping you could fill it.”

“Oh?” you looked at him and smiled nervously, “did you have something in mind? A landscape or--”

“Well, your portraits are great. I like the old world style. I was hoping you might do one of… me,” he suggested, “I know, it’s vain but why not?”

“I mean, yeah, I could do that,” you said.

“I’ll pay hourly plus materials,” he continued, “three hundred an hour.”

You almost choked at the number. You blinked and swallowed through your surprise.

“Even a small portrait would take at least twelve hours,” you warned, “are you sure?”

“I know it’s a lot of time for you, so… I was thinking, if you have to miss work, I’ll factor it into your rate. I would really like to get the project started as soon as we can,” he put his hand on his hip as he looked down at you, “the only thing I need from you is a list of materials. I’ll have them waiting for you here.”

“Here?”

“Well, yeah, I figure it makes most sense,” he turned his palm out.

“Hmm, sure, I prefer my own brushes but… you know I can just buy the stuff myself--”

“Ah, no, I want it to be perfect. You send me a list and I’ll have my assistant go out and get it all ready,” he assured, “How does Sunday sound?”

“Sunday?” you blanched. That was two days away.

“Like I said, Marcus is more than welcome to come with you,” he offered, “I’d hate to keep you from him too long.”

“I guess Sunday works,” you squeaked, “I’ll talk to Marcus.”

“Great,” he said coolly, “well, that’s business. How about a drink to seal the deal?”

“I don’t know, I should probably get back,” you fiddled with your bag against your hip.

“One drink won’t hurt,” he said, “go on, call the boyfriend and let him know you won’t be much longer.”

“I… thanks,” you murmured.

“You’re humble for an artist,” he joked as he sidled by you, “once you grow an ego, you’ll be unstoppable.” He neared the stairs as you turned to watch him, “I’ll be at the bar, waiting. You like gin?”

“Sure,” you answered as you pulled out your phone, “I’ll see you down there.”

🎨

When you told Marcus about your new side gig, he was even more excited than you. You were anxious and slightly hesitant. You hated to jump in feet first and risk losing more than a few tubes of paint. What if the work wasn’t good enough?

Marcus was more than willing to come with you when you told him about the size of the place. He knew by the area that it was extravagant. You sat in the passenger seat with the most expensive bottle of wine you’d ever bought cradled between your legs. You hated to show up empty handed after all of Clark’s generosity.

Marcus got lost and went down the wrong driveway before you righted your course. As you drove up, you were once more overcome from the rich rosebuds and sparkling fountain at the centre of the mosaic. You gripped the neck of the bottle and got out as Marcus whistled in awe.

“You weren’t kidding. This place is fucking nuts,” he swore, “I should’ve worn the tux from my brother’s wedding.”

“Please, Marcus,” you rolled your eyes, “let’s both try not to break anything.”

“You’re the clumsy one,” he chirped, “shit, you’re so lucky. You get to hang out here and paint all day? God, I wish I had an ounce of artistic talent. I’d trade it for code in a minute.”

You climbed the steps and clanged the large knocker on the right door. You waited a moment before an answer came and Clark appeared on the other side and beckoned you inside. He smiled as he shook Marcus’ hand.

“Thanks for joining us,” he said, “I would’ve felt awful stealing your girlfriend on the weekend like this.”

“Are you kidding me? She said you had a pool and I snuck the swim shorts into the backseat,” Marcus chuckled and you nudged him with your elbow.

“See?” Clark arched a brow, “the pool is always the seller.”

“Here,” you said as you held out the bottle of red, “for everything you’ve done and welcoming us into your home.”

“Ohhh,” he took the bottle and looked over the label, “I got a spot for this right behind the bar. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, I brought my brushes,” you patted the canvas bag on your shoulder.

“Mmm, yeah, well, I’ll just put this away and we’ll give Marcus the grand tour. Then I’ll get you situated,” he assured and rushed off.

He returned and pointed Marcus through to the front room, “you’ll see, just over here,” he directed him to your paintings.

“Oh, wow, babe,” Marcus marveled at the hung portraits, “you really did it.”

You smiled bashfully and Clark peeked over at you and winked. You squirmed as your cheeks burned and you turned away as he beckoned Marcus past the mantle.

“It’s a big place,” Clark said, “I’d like to get you started before noon.”

Clark led you along the same path as days before and slowed as you came back to the top of the stairs. He turned back and clapped his hands together.

“Marcus, if you wanna hop in the pool, we’re gonna start just in there,” he pointed to the one door you hadn’t looked through, “that’s the studio.”

“What about you?” Marcus asked.

“Well, I’ll be a part of the process so I’m afraid I will be just as busy but if you need anything, Nina, she has a crooked nose and mean mouth but don’t let her fool you, she’ll get you whatever you need,” he said, “just don’t track in water from the pool or she’ll string you up.”

“Oh, well, that doesn’t sound too bad. Some alone time in the sun and a pool,” Marcus grinned, “I really couldn’t ask for anything else… except you, babe.”

“Sure,” you scoffed, “go, have fun.”

Marcus kissed you quickly and thanked Clark again before he excitedly barreled down the steps. You scratched your neck as you looked back to your host, and you guessed, your new boss.

“I’m sorry about him. He can be such a kid sometimes,” you said.

“Nah, it’s fine,” he waved it off, “so, you ready to see your workspace? I kinda wanted it to be a surprise. Also, a bit last minute so it’s not perfect… yet.”

“Uh, yeah,” you answered, “can’t wait.”

He motioned you over to the tall dusty rose doors and hooked his fingers in the slotted handles. He slid them open and revealed an airy room with a tall ceiling and long windows. An easel stood facing the sun streaked glass, an immense canvas bigger than yourself, bigger than him, propped up on it. There was a ladder nearby and the table was set with a rainbow of paints and a large pallet.

Your lips parted as you neared the easel and stared up at the canvas, “you were right, it’s gonna be a lot of work.”

“I hope it’s not too much,” he said, “but you name your price. We’ll make it work.”

“No, no, I think for what you’re paying, I’ll do just fine,” you put your bag down daintily on the table, “so, uh, a portrait, I guess that means…”

Your voice trailed off as he went to the upholstered chair across the room, at an angle so you could see him from your vantage. Behind it, hung a velvet curtain to add to the scene and a bust on a pedestal. It felt surreal, like a dream.

You turned and pulled out the brushes, “I think you’ll get more tired than me, just sitting there.”

“I’ll make it through,” he assured as he sat, “is there anyway you’d like me to sit? Chin up, or…”

“Hmmm,” you turned to look at him, “I think… if you just put your shoulders back and… did you want a profile or--”

“I was thinking front-facing,” he stared at you steadily, unflinching as his eyes stuck to you, “just like this.”

“Perfect,” you said nervously and looked back to the table. 

There was water to rinse your brushes, rags, pencils, blending sticks; everything you needed and more. You took a pencil from the bunch and pulled over the ladder. You climbed up and looked over at Clark as he sat stoic and still. He looked picturesque in real life, you expected paint would only lend to his figure.

His eyes met yours and you turned to start tracing the basic shapes onto the canvas. You had to stop and steady your hand as you did. His gaze made it hard not to tremble.

[lubdubsworld]

Insatiable ( Jungkook x OC) Chapter 2

Pairing : Jeon Jungkook x OC

Rating 18+

Genre : Vampire Au!!!! , DILF! Jungkook ! Bodyguard AU! Babysitter OC!   Age difference!!! [ bet you’ve never seen all of this in one fic before? ]

[ Some notes : Born Vampires stop aging when they turn twenty five.  Turned vampires stop aging when they’re turned. ]

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

“You alright?” Somi asked gently, watching me fling  my backpack into the corner of the room with enough force to dislodge one of the wooden panels on the wall, the shelf crashing and bringing down the two potted plants on it. The sound of ceramic shattering made me wince, regret churning in my stomach. 

“Yeah...yeah. Oh, God. I’m so sorry, Somi.. I broke your pots-”

“Never mind the pots...why do you look so upset? Have you been crying?” She demanded , reaching for me, hands curling around my wrists and drawing me into a hug and I swallowed, my throat dry and eyes swollen from all the tears that I’d wrung out of them. 

Outside the room, Namjoon stood guard, at the door and I felt guilty remembering how the past three hours had gone. 

After confronting Jungkook, I’d stormed off in righteous indignation and poor Namjoon had been forced to follow. 

He had kept a discreet distance as I climbed to the tallest ridge on the roof, scaling the gables with ease and I knew he had been terrified at the prospect of me falling. 

Immortal or not a three hundred foot drop to the ground would be something that would hurt.

And it was my bodyguard’s job to make sure I did not get hurt. 

When he wasn’t busy fucking other women that is. 

I gripped my sister harder, fingers curling into the fir of her coat as I tried to catch my bearing. 

“Do you know Helena?” I whispered, pulling away to look at her. Somi’s face fell,eyes filling with sympathy.

“Oh, no. Was she here?” She asked gently, reaching out and cupping my cheeks and my lips wobbled. 

“Why didn’t you warn me that he was in a relationship?” my voice shook and Somi shook her head. 

“He’s not!! God, Helena doesn’t do relationships. Jungkook and her.... well, I’m not sure but they’re just fuck buddies..... barely that. You know she’s from the Kim clan right? Those bloodsuckers never settle for one partner. “ She muttered. 

I stared at her.

“He called me a child and then told me he’ll tell dad if i try to make a move on him.” I whispered. 

Somi flinched.

“Sera....”

“It was humiliating and painful and I don’t ever want to think about it, ever again.” I muttered. 

She sighed. 

“It’s not like you don’t have men dying for a glance from you, Sera. You forget that you’re literally the most beautiful woman in the clan. If he rejects you, you’re definitely not the one missing out in that equation.” 

I nodded, misery seeping into me. My sob-fest on the roof hadn’t been wasted. I was angry at first but now, a sort of resigned acceptance had taken the place of my anger. 

 The look on Jungkook’s face had been too real, the emotion behind his rejection too potent for me to get over. I wasn’t sure I could change his mind.

Wasn’t even sure if I wanted to. 

“Was he very hurtful ? You know, if you tell dad, he’ll hire someone else and-”

“No.” I said immediately. “ I won’t do that. It’s not his fault, it’s minge. I acted out like a...well a child to be honest. He doesn’t owe me anything and he’s always been obvious in his disinterest. I was just too blinded my own attraction to consider that it wasn’t reciprocated.” I grimaced. 

God, I’d been an idiot and Jungkook’s words had knocked some good sense into my head. But I did care for him and his son and they needed this job. I wouldn’t put his job in jeopardy just because I didn’t get my way. 

I was better than that.

“Alright... Dad wanted to meet you for breakfast tomorrow.... He sounded serious. Do you know what that’s about?”

I groaned, when I remembered the reason my dad wanted to see me these days. 

“Dad wants me to start meeting men now. He thinks I’m old enough now that i’ve turned 21. He’s been badgering me for a whole entire month but I kept putting him off because of...well, because of Jungkook.” I admitted. 

Somi looked worried.

“You want to ? If you don’t we can talk to dad and-”

“No-” I shook my head.” I’m just gonna agree.” 

Somi looked surprised.

“Are you sure? Sera you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to-”

I smiled weakly. 

“I’m not going to be allowed to stay single forever Somi. Especially not when the entirety of dad’s day is spent trying to chase suitors away from the door. Do you know the Count from Jeju Do...dude’s a whole seven centuries old and he looks like a toad. He apparently tried to ask about me and Dad’s been freaking out.  “ I shuddered. 

Somi laughed.

“ That’s what you get for being you. But dad’s right. Keeping you away from everyone is only inviting more interest. And we don’t want you to be with someone insufferable.” She ruffled my hair and I hugged her again sighing into her shoulders.

No I didn’t want to be with someone who just saw me as some kind of a possession to be owned. I wanted someone nice and kind. A handsome man who did the right thing .  Someone who maybe, worked hard to give his kid a safe and protected life, someone who didn’t shun away from hard work and was a gentleman as well. 

Someone like-

“Someone other than Jungkook.” Somi said gently reading my mind. 

“I really liked him.” I whispered softly, feeling tears spring again. 

God, I thought I was all out of tears for Jeon Jung Kook but apparently I was wrong. 

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

I took extra care with my makeup the next morning, because my father usually had a ton of business meetings during his breakfast. I didn’t usually bother but , I was going to agree to his suggestions today and well, nothing wrong in delighting my father. And nothing made him happier than seeing me prance about  with pretty feminine clothes . 

My dad, for all his jovial cheerful air, loved his position as the head of the Hwang clan. And as his most prized possession , I was the apple of his eye. And while he didn’t treat me as an object or anything ( my dad loved me deeply and his affection was always evident. ) , there was no mistaking the fact that my dad enjoyed the power that came with being my guardian. Powerful men were willing to bend to his will, just for a chance to be with me. 

I sound insufferable, don’t I?

Trust me I’m not. 

The vampires that court me are usually assholes. Entitled, brain dead assholes .  When I opened the door in the morning, dressed in a short summer dress and ready to meet my dad, I was surprised to see Jungkook standing guard outside. He straightened away from the wall where he was fiddling with his phone, his gaze flitting to me, eyes cold and blank. 

I bowed lightly, not smiling.

“Mr. Jeon. I have a breakfast date with my father and then I’ll be heading to the cottage. I’m also meeting a friend of mine at the Art Museum in the evening so i’ll need the Mercedes brought around to pick me up maybe at 5.00PM.” I said briskly, glancing at him. 

My face flamed red when I noticed his gaze, fixed steadily on my ass. I cleared my throat angrily and his eyes met mine, a slow lazy grin playing around his mouth. 

“You look different.” He commented , shamelessly giving me another once over. 

The nerve. 

I swallowed, willing myself not to blush harder.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.” 

He chuckled.

“That dress barely covers your butt, angel. You sure you want to head to daddy dearest, dressed like that?” The way he said daddy made my skin heat up. 

I felt my jaw come unhinged. 

“That’s...that is none of your damn business.” I said shrilly.

He gave me another once over.

“Okay, then. If that’s what you’re into...fine. Let’s go.” 

Gritting my teeth, i tried to keep my face neutral. I would not give him the satisfaction of knowing that he got to me. I would not. 

I walked ahead of him , my fists clenched and my jaw tight and I felt incredibly upset because the day had barely begun and I was already wound tight. I was supposed to be relaxed and clear headed while talking to my father but Jeon Jungkook had muddled my brains as usual. 

I took deep breaths, trying to calm myself down. 

“Sera, wait.” His voice made me pause and I stopped, turning around to glare at him.

“What?” I snapped. 

He sighed, deeply. I watched as he ran his hands through his hair, tongue pressing into his cheek the way it did when he was upset. 

“About last night-”

I felt my pulse quicken. 

“I don’t wanna talk about it!” I said quickly, turning back around to leave but his fingers came around my arm, gripping hard . 

“Well tough luck. Because I do!” He said sharply. 

I whimpered, pain blooming up my arm and he swore, loosening his grip.

“I keep forgetting you’re human.” He muttered, “ I’m sorry... I just... I wanted to apologize for how i handled things last night. I was twenty once and I should have been more understanding.”

I closed my eyes. Oh, God no. Please, please for the love of God, let me hate you in peace. Don’t apologize and make me fall in love all over again.

“Its fine.” I choked out. “ You were right. I was out of line.”

“You deserve better.” He said quickly, eyes flitting away from my face and I felt a sharp pang in my heart. God , this was agonizing. 

“Jungkook-”

“It’s just that you’re...well you know who you are. You can’t be with ...someone like me and trust me you don’t want to be with someone like me either. I know its appealing, the whole illusion of stability. older man, has a kid, has his life together .....but that’s not all it means .” He gave me a tired smile.

I bit my lips, ot replying and he went on. 

 “ I have baggage, a shit ton of it and I would have to be especially cruel to unload something like that on a girl barely out of her teens. I’ve done shit I’m not proud of ,....but ruining your life, I’m gonna draw the line there.” He smiled , looking a whole decade younger and I closed my eyes.

I was back to square one, I thought miserably. He had my whole heart. 

“ So we’re good right?” He prompted and I exhaled, giving him a smile.

“We’re good.”

“That’s good. Because my son loves you and I would rather we be friends. You’re just like a daughter to me. ” He touched my face gently, pulling away at once, the small contact leaving fire in its wake and I had to clench my fists . 

A daughter?!! Is he out of his damned mind? 

“Okay.” 

“Let’s go then.”

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

“Jungkook, please sit down. You’re like my son and I don’t want you hovering like you’re part of the backdrop. I’ve trusted you with my entire life.” My father beamed, pointing at me and i laughed. 

Jungkook bowed respectfully, taking the chair next to me. 

“How are you , my buttercup?” My father asked softly, fingers gripping mine and I smiled.

“I’m well, father. Do you like my dress?” 

Next to me Jungkook coughed and I shot him a dirty look. 

“It looks ravishing on you. The prettiest flower in my estate is my daughter, do you agree Jungkook?” My father prompted and I swallowed the smirk that threatened. 

Poor Jungkook was going to learn that being my bodyguard meant singing my praises twenty four seven or at least anytime my father was in hearing distance. 

“Uh..” Jungkook’s eyes flitted between the two of us, “ Yes sir. Your daughter is quite lovely.” 

I beamed at him and he looked away quickly. 

Coward. 

Turning back to my dad I held my hand out. 

“DAd, you wanted to see me about something?”

“Yes dearest. You know the Kim clan’s matriarch has been after me. Three of her great great great grandsons have come of age recently. And all three of them are set to take over some very lucrative businesses. They are good men and apparently they’re quite smitten with you. They say you know of them from school?”

I sighed.

“Do you know their names?” I prompted.

“Mingyu, Minjae and Yugyeom.” My father said briskly. 

 Ugh.

 “ They’ve asked me out before, yes.” 

“Uh..Excuse me.. Could I get a refill?” Jungkook said quietly next to me and i turned, watching him wave to one of the footmen. 

“Jungkook, are you thirsty?” My father asked brightly. 

An idea formed in my head, wicked and dangerous. 

“Perhaps, he should get a taste of the Hwang Elixir?” I said innocently. 

My father’s gaze snapped to mine. 

A small frown made its way to his face. 

“Are you sure? I’m not sure if Jungkook would be comfortable-”

I turned to him, purposely flipping my long hair off my shoulders exposing my throat . Jungkook’s eyes went to the curve of my neck at once and i felt a sick sort of triumph when his eyes flashed red.

“Oh, no no...” I crooned, leaning in closer. “ I’m sure you aren’t uncomfortable , are you Jungkook ssi? After all, I am just like a daughter to you , aren’t I?” I stared right at him, fluttering my lashes and I saw his jaw clench. 

“Of course, Ms. Hwang.” He said briskly, glaring at me. I played with the small gold chain around my neck, letting my fingers flutter over my pulse , drawing his gaze there.

“Well, that is true ...” My father looked uncertain, but I gave him a gentle nod and a smile. 

“Well, as a special guest, I suppose you can enjoy our hospitality , Jeon. Why don’t you take a drink from -”

I moved closer, pressing up against him and Jungkook sighed, lips closing over my neck, and I felt my eyes flutter shut at the wet warmth of his mouth . 

It was intoxicating, the way he used one hand to grip my neck gently, the other on my waist to steady me and when his fangs pierced through, I could sense the warm liquid flood his mouth and Jungkook’s entire body relaxed, a strangled moan escaping him. 

“---my daughter’s wrist.” My father finished and I felt Jungkook stiffen next to me. 

This time I couldn’t stop the grin that bloomed on my face. 

My eyes dropped to his lap and yup, his pants definitely looked a tad tighter. 

“Did I do good, Mr Jeon? Or should I call you daddy? ” I whispered quietly , fluttering my lashes at him and his fangs retracted and he pulled away from me, shoving me back into my own chair quickly. 

My father was slightly slack jawed. 

“I’m sorry, Mr. Hwang. “ Jungkook muttered and I laughed.

“I do believe it is I whom you should be apologizing to. It is  my  neck you just mauled. ” I smiled brightly staring at Jungkook and if looks could kill, I would have a thousand wooden stakes through my heart right about now. ‘

Take that Mr. Jeon. 

Daughter, my ass. 

“My apologies , Sera.” He said stiffly. 

My father laughed raucously.

“Ahh, you must be used to the neck, my dear boy. understandable understandable. it is how we used to do it in the old days, after all . These younglings with all their etiquette and feminism and what not....it’s hard to keep up..... But now you must tell me? Is my daughter not the sweetest you’ve ever had?” 

I choked, coughing. Oh God, sometimes my 900 year old father had no idea how he sounded. 

Jungkook looked like he had swallowed a lemon. 

“She’s certainly ...” He stopped, probably realizing that any adjective at the end of that sentence would sound entirely wrong. 

“Delicious?” I prompted, blinking innocently and Jungkook shot me another glare. 

“Well, nevermind nevermind. .... So, tell me dearest, will you be willing to meet the Kim boys?”

I sighed.

“I like Yugyeom. I cannot stand Minjae. I don’t know enough about Mingyu to make any judgement. How about I meet Mingyu and if I don’t hit it off with him, I will allow Yugyeom to court me....” I said softly.

I glanced at Jungkook but he was studiously looking away. 

“Very well my dear. Do you have any plans today?”

“I’m meeting a friend at the museum.”

My father’s eyes widened.

“Well isn’t that a wonderful coincidence. Mingyu's law firm is just a block away if I’m not mistaken. I’ll ask the boy to pick you up afterwards. Have dinner with him and you can tell me tonight of your choice.” My father smiled briskly.

“Yes, father.” 

“Jungkook..” My father prompted and the vampire glanced up.

“Yes, sir?”

“Take good care of her. At the restaurant, make sure you stay at hearing distance. “ 

“Yes sir.” Jungkook bowed and I groaned. 

In other words, let my father know if I behaved appropriately. 

i pouted and my father waggled his finger at me.

“No, no no.. Missy. I’m going to make sure you keep your end of the bargain . You need to give these men a proper chance before you reject them. “ 

I nodded.

“And you must ask Either Somi or Seolhyun to dress you. No jeans or one of those ridiculous gowns that make you look like a pastry.”

There was no mistaking the snort that came from my right and i glared at Jungkook before turning to my dad.

“Yes, father.” 

“Good, now run along the pair of you. “

I stood up, kissing my father fondly on his forehead.

“I love you.” I whispered. 

“You are my whole entire joy, dearest. “ He kissed my hand gently, eyes warm and soft.

As we left the room, Jungkook let out a sigh.

“I am never having a meal with you two again.” He ground out and I laughed. 

“Anything you say, daddy.” I grinned. 

Jungkook groaned. 

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

As luck would have it,  my friend cancelled . 

So at six the evening, I finished locking up the cottage as the last of the kids left, fumbling with the lock while a tired Joo Won napped in his father’s arms, head resting on Jungkook’s shoulders. I felt myself soften at the picture they made, Jungkook singing softly , fingers brushing his son’s hair back as he rocked him gently. 

“I’ll be a while... I needed to get ready. Why don’t you put him to bed? Who’s watching him tonight?”

“Hwasa and Moonbyul offered. I’ll drop you off in your room and head to the north wing. What time are you meeting the jerkwad?” He said casually.

I blinked rapidly, confused.

“I’m sorry... the jerkwad?” 

Jungkook shrugged.

“It’ just a fact. Most men are absolute jerks at twenty one.” He shrugged. 

i felt myself bristling on behalf of the unknown Mingyu.

“That is absolutely unfair. My brothers were incredibly kind and good.”

“To you perhaps. Because they don’t have to impress you. But men act differently when they’re trying to get between a woman’s thighs. They’re jerks when they want to get laid...” He grinned.

“Is that why you act like a jerk to me? ” I smiled evilly and he rolled his eyes.

“Oh, darling we both know I don’t have to act in any different way to get you into my bed . I just have to do this.” He smirked, curling his finger in a come hither gesture.  

I felt my pulse pound and I tried not to let his words get to my head. He was flirting , yes but it was a joke. He was joking with me because the very idea of being with me was a joke to him. 

And I couldn’t forget that. 

Rolling my eyes, I pulled on the lock a couple more times to make sure the door was well locked. 

“Shall we leave?” He prompted watching me wrestle the backpack onto my shoulders. I grunted under the weight. 

“Of course. Let’s go.” 

We walked in silence for a few seconds.

“So, how’s he doing? With stuff?” Jungkook asked gently and I felt warmth bloom in my chest. 

“He’s very advanced for his age Jungkook. You’ve done a wonderful job with him. He’s able to read and he has a beautiful l writing hand. He’s learned his multiplication tables all the way up to seven and he has the voice of an angel. Which I think he gets from you. ” I smiled, reaching out to brush the back of Joowon’s head. 

Jungkook smiled softly, the late evening sun painting his perfect features in a soft golden glow. 

“Your father was kind enough to support me the first few years when i had him. I didn’t trust anyone enough to leave him with them and well... i needed to put a roof over our head.” He sighed . 

I touched his arm, giving it a small squeeze.

“I understand. I’m glad you’re here. He’ll grow up well in our clan.   “

“And he has a lot of excellent men to look up to here...He needs a good role model, someone kind and amazing who can inspire him to be hardworking and fair. ” He smiled.

I bit my lips.

“I think he’s had that all along. ” I said quietly.

Jungkook’s breath caught for a second and the air between us changed. I licked my lips. 

“Jungkook you’re a good father. You know that right?” I said after a few more seconds of silence. 

He laughed.

“Am I really? I wonder.” 

“He loves you.” I breathed , “  You’re all he talks about.... Today, one of the other kids tried to say that his father was brave because he helped someone who was stuck in an elevator. you know what Joowon did? He listed some twenty different incidents where you’ve helped people out....And he looked so proud.”

Jungkook’s ear looked red in the brightly lit garden. 

“i was just doing my job. Most of those times, I was in danger.” He grunted. 

“And yet, you did the right thing. “ I whispered. “ And your son was watching. And he’s learned the importance of doing the right thing even when you’re scared. That’s a life lesson that isn’t easy to learn.”

“Can’t disagree with that.” He chuckled. I grabbed his arm forcing him to stop. 

I had to tell him this. 

 “ Jungkook, when immortality is on the plate, people don’t give much value to morals. They don’t always care about doing the right thing.... . Its how our kind functions. Consequences don’t mean much when you have a whole eternity to fix your mistakes.....So I always admire vampires who value morals. “ I smiled, “ To see a five year old with such a well formed moral compass... it tells me that you’re an amazing father. Possibly the best I’ve ever met. “ I reached out, to hold his hand, wanting to touch him in some way, to make him believe that I was completely honest. 

“Sera!!!!!!” My sister’s voice made me jump and Jungkook stepped away as well. 

“Dad told me you’re going on a date? I’ve picked out an outfit for you!! But you need to take a shower! You cannot show up smelling like diapers and spit-up.” She called. 

I groaned. 

“Time for the ugly duckling to transform into a swan, I see?” He said gently. 

“Your son’s favorite fairytale.” I whispered.

“He makes me read it every night.” 

“I would like to sit in on that someday.” I laughed.

His eyes met mine. 

“You’re always welcome, Ms Hwang,” He smiled politely. “ Someday soon maybe your kids and my son would be friends.” 

And just like that the wall grew between us. 

His kids and my kids. 

Not our kids because he wasn’t for me. 

He would never be for me. 

I felt the sudden inexplicable urge to cry. 

Turning away, I began following my sister as she waved to me. . 

“I’ll be at your door at seven.” He called out behind me. 

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

[astriiformes]

Tomorrow is my first day of school since late 2017, and I am having the most complicated mix of emotions imaginable.

I don’t know what the last day of college I attended before this was. Sometime in late November or early December of what I thought would still be my junior year, even after crashing and burning and withdrawing from another semester when I was a freshman, I stopped going to classes and my two museum volunteer positions, because my mental health was a complete wreck. By December 8th, I was checked in to the local hospital’s mental health ward for being suicidal.

So much has changed since then. I moved back home, ostensibly to recover enough to return to school soon. My mental health got worse. I came even closer to killing myself. Some of my dearest friends in the world figured out how to help me move to another state where I could actually get back on my feet. My mental health got better. It’s been up and down since, but never near as bad as it was that fateful December that changed everything for me.

I’m doing so much better, truly, and I hope it means all this actually sticks this time. But I can also already feel myself creeping into terrifying familiar states of mind and anxieties I haven’t dealt with for years, and school hasn’t even started yet. I don’t want to get worse again. I know I have so much more in-person support than I did back then, and have done some real healing, but I have new stressors too -- the fear that classes might go entirely online this semester, which I know would be an utter disaster for me academically; the creeping shame of having failed so completely before, and going back to finish a degree I thought I’d have by 2019 at age 24 instead, when I used to be my family’s academic golden child; the fact that as part of coping with my failure, my mental pendulum has swung to almost the other extreme: I’ve come to accept, on some level, that my worth doesn’t come entirely from my performance in school, but to do so sort of went and tried to convince myself it’s okay to be worthless instead of finding other real sources of worth.

I’m scared. I’m hopeful. I’m a wreck. I’m at least a little excited. I’m unsure. I’m clinging to what mental health progress I’ve made in the last few years. I’m terrified of what mental health progress I might undo. I’m not sure I’ve ever felt more topsy-turvy about a decision in my whole life -- even deciding to move up here, I knew I had almost no other choice. Deciding to go back to school was entirely my choice. I still don’t know if it was a good one. I still can’t entirely tell if my desire to finish what I started is because it’s something I actually feel ready for and truly want, or if it’s my personal shame whispering in my ear again that if I don’t, it will tarnish me forever. It feels, in a lot of ways, like my last shot at this, because if I’m not ready now, I’m not sure I ever will be, and another failure would probably be a sign I should look at pursuing other career options -- ones that don’t require me to get through a college degree -- and to stop flinging myself against a wall that thus far has only ever hurt me. Or maybe, just maybe, this time I’ll actually climb it. That uncertainty terrifies me.

Once more unto the breach.

[momo-de-avis]

Hello, my lovely uncle is going to Lisbon for the first time ever at the age of 71. What are some things that you would suggest he see, that aren't in most of the tourist books? He's quite active for a 70yr old! He mentioned the Gulbenkian and I thought you might know some other art museums that are less well known. Thank you :)

(I'm going to link something to every suggestion, and if possible, in english so you can check more)

Gulbenkian is a great choice, beautiful garden, lovely place to have a cup of coffee or a cup of tea or a cake or whatever, and the museum (the main museum, I believe the Modern Art Centre is currently closed but am unsure) is one of my favourites (and there's currently a temporary exhibit on Hergé, about Tintin, if he is interested). It's a REALLY good Museum, it has a fantastic collection, I highly advise him to go see it, guarantee he will love it.

The Museu Nacional de Arte Antiga is also a safe bet, it takes quite a while to see it whole but it's got a great collection and an amazing view.

I think a lot of people skip Museu do Fado, but it's genuinely one of the loveliest museums I've visited, and since it's in Alfama, you can have a lovely walk in the neighbourhood, have something to eat there and overall enjoy a nice afternoon. The museum, in my opinion, does seem small but it requires some time. There's a lot of interactive stuff because it's about music, so things to listen to, clips from movies, etc. And it has some great art as well. The staff there is also lovely, I genuinely loved my experience there.

This one might not be news to him, it generally isn't for tourists because it's a common suggestion in like booklets and stuff like that, but I say this because for us it's a well hidden gem that not many portuguese people visit (or even know of) and it can be a bit confusing to reach (there are buses that stop right in front of the museum's doors, they have that info available on their website too). I mean Museu do Azulejo.

There are a lot of places downtown you can just discover by having a walk. You can climb up the Triumphal Arch in Rua Agusta (I personally think it's more worthwhile than the Santa Justa Lift, the queue is simply not worth it and the view of the arch is better anyway).

There's the Lisbon Story Centre, which is like a compact, flash history of the city but done, I personally think at least, very well and in a kind of fun away at times. I actually REALLY enjoyed this museum, and it's pretty small, you can see it all in like 1h-1h30.

Still downtown, you've got Church of São Domingos, which as opposed to the Cathedral, you don't have to pay to get in (though I still advise going there hehe) and it's a super interesting church because it got WRECKED during the 1755 earthquake but through time they decided to let the church stay the way it, well, remained after the earthquake, and it's got a grim vibe inside (and I'm pretty positive it's got one of these MFs inside, and looking at a Senhor dos Passos up-front is an experience). It's also next door to this absolutely iconic place, and I highly advise your grandpa to stop there, ask for a Ginja served in a chocolate cup, and enjoy the bliss.

There's a lot to see in the downtown area: you've got the oldest running bookstore in the world; the famous and historic café Brasileira, in front of which sits Fernando Pessoa, a place associated with the modernist circles of the early 20th century; the Maria II National Theatre, which is just an interesting piece of neo-classical architecture to see, especially how it fits into the urbanism of the area, especially with one of the few (to me) valid examples of portuguese calçada (the first one ever built) in the square; up in Carmo there's the Convent of Carmo with its Archeological Museum, which is another of those places that looks unfinished I believe because the earthquake also fucked it up but it was never restored, and right in front of it there's the memorial to Salgueiro Maia (if he visits Lisbon in April and happens to be there on the 25th, it'll be covered in red carnations because people still leave them there on the day to honour him).

Speaking of the 25th of April, I almost forgot, now THIS is a true jewel to visit in Lisbon. It's a fairly new museum (it's like.. 5 years old I believe?) and not so very well known (hell, even I haven't been there yet), but it's about a very important piece of our history which is political prisoners and the State Police's abuse during the dictatorship. I'm talking about Museu do Aljube (it's in Alfama).

I feel obliged to add the Castle in here, but I generally don't advise it unless the person has got time and money. I only think it's worthwhile if there's some event going on, otherwise the only thing I believe is worth your time seeing in it is the old ruins of the Alcáçova and its archeological remnants from the Moorish occupation. But going up there and just kind of enjoying the view (there's an amazing viewpoint right next to it) is definitely worth it. The walk can be tiring (I mean, it fucking annihilates me lmao) but there's tramcars and a tiny bus, so not to worry about it.

Still near Alfama (I'm actually not sure if it's within Alfama or not lol) you've got the Roman Theatre. It's not just the roman theatre, there's a small archeological museum beside it.

This one is part of the Lisbon Museum, which itself is located far outside of the downtown area (the Pimenta Palace, in Campo Grande), and I'm going to be very honest, it's only worth visiting it depending on what the current exhibits are. HOWEVER, the museum is located within the Bordalo Pinheiro gardens, it's free, and it's an incredible place to see because of its sculptures (do mind the dumbass peacocks over there, they are EVERYWHERE). These are a part of an often forgotten museum that stands across the street from the gardens, called the Bordalo Pinheiro Museum, and as a fan of the Bordalo Pinheiro brothers, I always recommend it, mostly because you get to see their lesser known artworks like caricatures, drawings and sculptures.

Back to downtown, there's a museum I've been avoiding mentioning because, to be very frank, I used to love it but I genuinely hate how it's being run these days, and they turned it into a dumbass place. It's the Contemporary Art Museum of Chiado (or Museum of Chiado for short, you'll find that everyone calls it this instead). First of all, the name is deceiving. It's not about contemporary art per se (if you want to see true contemporary art, there's MAAT, which has two buildings and it's enormous. I actually really liked this one, but I have yet to visit one of the buildings (the modern one), but this one is in Belém. I'll get to Belém in a second haha). The museum is actually about 19th and 20th century art, but they changed the policies around there and there is no "permanent collection" anymore, meaning that, they arranged the museum to only show temporary exhibits, which, in my humble opinion, is dumb as fuck. To if you're looking to get in there and see what 19th and 20th century art looked like, generally, in Portugal, you will be disappointed. It truly pains me to say this, but I don't suggest this museum because it's being run by a bunch of idiots. However, do check the exhibits they have going on, occasionally there is some good stuff in there, and it might be worth it.

In Alfama again, if your grandpa is interested in literature and is a fan of Saramago (or not and just wants to get to know him), check Casa dos Bicos (again, you just walk right by it on your way to Alfama, these are things you can just accidentally discover, but a lot of people miss them, and I actually understand why). The Saramago thing though is only part of it. Casa dos Bicos used to be a governor's palace in the colonial era, so you'll find a lot of history to go through there.

In Terreiro do Paço, there's a spot people don't usually visit or even know exists, but they sometimes have some kick ass exhibits over there, it's the West Tower. I've only ever been there for a Goya exhibit, but I think the whole thing is more focused on military history and such.

Speaking of the military, there's (right outside Alfama) the Military Museum. I'm personally not a fan, and I've heard some complaints about it, but for people who are interested in military history, weaponry and such, there is some great things to see, as well artworks by some great artists.

Adding a few people don't generally visit or aren't aware of them: the Saint Vincent Monastery (if you want to be literal, Saint Vincent of the Outside lmao), the Madre de Deus Convent (the website is not translated, but you can see photos), and I'll add a few Miradouros: Santa Luzia, Graça, Portas do Sol.

Now, outside of the downtown area:

I know you asked for hidden corners, but I can't leave out the Tower of Belém. Going inside can be worth it, but expect it to be a little full. I say it's worth paying a ticket to go inside because you can see up-close the incredible details of its architecture.

Most people don't know this (I suspect not even tugas), but the Jerónimos Monastery encompasses THREE different museums and exhibition spaces, it's how fucking big that thing is. There's the Archeological museum (the webpage doesn't have an english version, which reinforces what I was going to say about it, which is that, however a museum full of extremely interesting pieces, when you step inside, you're pretty positive that thing stopped in time around 1978 or something), the Marine Museum, and the actual monastical complex of the monastery. Just a thing about Jerónimos: you DON'T pay to get into the main church, you only pay to visit the monastic complex, but the church is still active, as in, there's mass and weddings and baptisms there, so it closes at like, 5.30 or 6 for the 6.30 mass.

There's also Museu dos Coches, the famous café where you can get Pastéis de Belém (absolutely tell him to go there, and tell him not to worry about the long ass queue he'll find outside. The people there are used to it and they have a system that is so efficient you don't actually have to wait long, they're super fast about it. But please, tell him to try those motherfuckers cause they are divine). There's CCB, inside of which is the Berardo Museum (it... can be a good collection, on some things at least. Others, not so much. And trust me, I want to talk smack about this museum, but they have incredible works of art in there, despite the fact that the collection itself is very... eh. Weird)

Also, there is a new Art Deco museum (I think it opened last year?) but I just checked and.. it's only guided tours and requires a reservation? And also includes wine tasting? Idk man Joe Berardo is off the shits, just skip this one.

I'm going to just. Risk it. But there's Museu do Traje, which is dedicated to the history of fashion. The last time I was there I was like. 7, idk. And it's located in (I have to say this) the fucking ugliest part of Lisbon possible. Like, absolutely nothing attractive in there. It's so painfully ugly. But it's got a good collection, and it saddens me more people don't know about it

Okay, these are just from the top of my head. Lisbon is the kind fo place where you'll kick a stone and find three churches under it lmao. I always advise people to have a walk on foot around the downtown area, but especially around Alfama and Mouraria. Forget about the tuktuks, unless there's a mobility issue (which, from what you said, doesn't seem to be the case).

Also, since it's your grandpa, I'm going to leave a restaurant suggestion here. I went there years ago, so I'll be honest, I don't know how much it costs, if it's too expensive, or even if it requires a reservation. And to be honest, finding a spot to listen to Fado in Alfama/Mouraria is fairly easy. But I loved that place so much. The lights dim every 15 minutes and a new fado singer comes along, and they switch between Fado and Fado Corridinho (happy fado). But again, it's a bit upscale (and I think it got even MORE upscale in the last few years, unfortunately).

I hope this long ass post helps hahaha if you have any questions or anything, don't hesitate to shoot me another ask, I'll gladly provide! I hope your grandpa has a kick ass time here and really enjoys the city!!

Edit: God fucking dammit you said UNCLE not GRANDFATHER, what the fuck man. I’m sorry for mistaking it or, well, not knowing how to read 😔

[reincarnated70sbaby]

maritime madness

led zeppelin x reader

warnings: swearing, drug use

an: so I was sailing yesterday and I was thinking about this the entire time I might have nearly capsized the boat

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

“I can’t believe we’re actually doing this” I spoke, staring out at the large blue yacht that rested on the waters of Normandy. It all started the day before, when we were all throwing around tripped out ideas in our hotel room.

“What are we gonna do tomorrow?” Jimmy asked. I sat by his side, my head resting on his bony shoulder. My dose of LSD had just kicked it, and as it was my first time it probably hit me quicker than the others. I tried to speak, but it felt like every time I moved my mouth, it felt like I would stretch my mouth out of shape, like putty.

“Let’s go explore that cathedral, the big massive one, y’know? The one with the hunchback. Maybe we could bump into him or something”

As soon as the words left Robert’s lips, our entire entourage burst out in giggles. I myself, was having hard time controlling my breathing. I had to rest my head in Jimmy’s lap, Jimmy being doubled down over me clutching his stomach.

“Percy, you dumb fucker, y-you know that’s not a real story” Jonesy informed, all his words all broken up by loud chuckles.

Roberts jaw immediately dropped open in shock, along with his eyes widening and brown trashing in confusion.

“Nah, yeah it was, the uh, the hunchman did the um, bells. Yeah, the bells”

“No he didn’t, because he never existed you nonce. It’s a fairytale from the 19th century” Jimmy piped in, adding his extensive knowledge of mythology and folklore into the conversation.

“But me ma said he existed, you’re gonna say my mum lied to me all those years?”

“Well obviously Perce, it’s just a bedtime story” Jonesy added, still chuckling to himself at Robert’s gullible nature.

“Fine then, someone else give an idea since all of mine always get ridiculed” Robert stated, crossing his arms and craning his head back against the footboard of the bed and staring at the ceiling in a huff.

“How about Père Lachaise?”

“What the actual fuck is pear la chair Pagey?” Bonzo asked, pronouncing the words all wrong in his thick Englishman accent.

“It’s Père Lachaise” Jimmy corrected in a perfect French accent, “and it’s a graveyard in Paris, loads of famous people are buried there - Oscar Wilde, Frederic Chopin, Jim Morrison, Edith Piaf”

“Jimmy you must be as mad as Morrison to think we would waste our day off in a fucking dead person museum. Jesus Christ how did we pick you up” Bonzo sighed, rolling his eyes.

“Okay, what about Mont Saint-Michel? It’s this cool island off of the coast. There’s a bridge but once the tide comes in you can’t get in or out. Wouldn’t that be good craic eh?” Jonesy suggested

“No” Bonzo, Jimmy and Robert all said at the same time.

“Ah! You’ve been outnumbered Mr Jones haha. Maybe you and I could go out another time Jonny boy, we could go exploring and see the spirits trapped on the island” I said with a chuckle, the psychedelic in my system making this whole situation very funny.

“Jesus Christ what the fuck did she even say. That her first time on acid?” Robert asked to Jimmy.

“Must’ve been, it hit her pretty quickly” Jimmy replied, staring into my largely dilated pupils. He swore he could’ve seen something dancing in my pupils, but maybe that was just the drug in him.

We all sat in silence for a couple minutes, all of us enjoying our high.

“Innnnnnnnnnnnnnn fourteen hundred ninety two, Columbus sailed the ocean blueeee” I sang, the lyrics being the only words of a song I could think of to fill the silence. A beat of silence passed and I wondered if everybody suddenly passed out, either into sleep or another dimension.

As I started the next line, everyone else joined in with me. We eventually finished the entire song, even an encore requested by the boys. I sung the encore in a horrendous, deep operatic voice while prancing round the hotel room. A round of applause sounded, and I took my theatrical bows in front of my supportive crowd.

“That’s It! I know what we can do tomorrow. God that is a good idea!” Bonzo declared, jumping up to his feet, not before nearly tumbling backwards.

“Go on then Bonz, don’t leave us guessing mate” Jonesy suggested, breaking the dramatic silence that had ensued.

“Rent a yacht! We can go out early in the morning and stay overnight since our flight back home is in the evening anyway! All we need to do is hire a skipper or something”

We all were stoked at idea of having a private boat to ourselves. Sure, none of the boys were experienced sailors, but that’s what a professional skipper was for, driving rich people around in yachts right?

“Do we really have to do this” I said, making our way through the marina to our yacht.

“The skipper will probably dive off the boat when we get started tonight” Jonesy commented, sharing my lack of enthusiasm for the maritime adventure. “We should have ditched them and gone to Mont Saint-Michel”. I only hummed in response, dragging my overnight suitcase over the gaps in the planks of wood on the dock.

“Um yeah, about that skipper. We couldn’t exactly book one on such short notice” Cole confessed.

“What the actual fuck Cole? Are we just supposed to sail ourselves and drown? I can’t tie a knot to save my bloody life” Robert shrieked. We all stopped in our tracks and turned to the tour manager, glaring at him through our sunglasses.

“Of course not Percy, why would we do that to our cash cows hm? And this is a motorboat, no ropes involved. It’s basically like driving a car. In water. In fact, all you need to drive it is a drivers license, which I’m positive you all have judging by your expansive car choices. Forgot to mention that myself and Peter have opted out” With that note, Cole dropped the yacht keys into Bonzo’s hand and scuttled away.

We all stood there, bags in hand, confusion over our faces as we watched Cole’s figure disappear behind the hundred of other boats.

“Well shit” Jonesy said, the sourness in his voice barely hidden.

“Let’s just go check it out, we don’t even have to leave the marina if we can drive it, we’ll just park out all night” Bonzo affirmed, being unusually optimistic.

We all found the boat and as the boys started embarking aboard, I thought out loud.

“I can’t believe we’re doing this”

“Cmon darling, let’s just see what it’s like. If you hate it we’ll do something else” Jimmy compromised, outstretching his hand to me.

The boat bobbed a bit on the water as I stepped on.

“It’s not hating it I’m worried about, I was practically raised on a boat Jim, I’m just not sure 4 rockstars and a boat is a great combination”

“It’s okay we won’t go too hard, at least one of us won’t, I guess. Anyway, you were raised on a boat? Like a houseboat or something?”

“No, my dad was a skipper. Whenever he was home from trips, he would teach my and my siblings to sail. Y’know the whole nine yards, all the different knots, pulling in the ropes, steering, navigating charts. It’s just been a while since I’ve been on one and I hope I can remember everything”

“Gosh you are fabulous, my dear, I learn something new about you everyday” Jimmy said, pulling me in for a kiss. There was a loud bang of the engine, which we both jumped apart at.

“What the fuck are they at now, Christ” Jimmy sighed.

“Here, go set down our stuff in the biggest room, I’ll go see what they’re messing with”

We both parted, Jimmy heading downstairs, myself climbing onto the helm.

“Oi, Bonz, Percy, step away from the wheel until I get us out of this parking lot” I commanded. Both Robert and Bonzo looked at me funny, before slowly raising their arms and stepping away.

“And you know better?” Bonzo asked, still not sure where my bossiness came from.

“I think I do, unless you have your skipper license on hand?”

“Wait, you have a sailing license?” Robert interjected.

“I actually don’t, but I know everything you need to not drown. My father was a sailor and he taught me how to run a boat. Thank god we have a motorboat, as we might’ve been a little trouble if we have a proper sailing yacht. If we were, it wouldn’t have been as relaxing as simply steering a wheel” I answered, switching the engine on.

We warmed up the engine for a couple minutes, then casted off and finally escaped the madness of the marina. Soon were out on the French coastline. We continued sailing perpendicular to the coast, not wanting to stray too far. All the boys took turns steering, with Jonesy being the best skipper in-training out of all of them. Only once had we had anchored the boat again was the real party going to start.

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

if only sailing was this easy in reality 😒

anyway I’m gonna do a spicier part 2 riiight now😎

leave any comments/ideas down below!!!!

navigation

tag list : @rebel-without-a-zeppelin @princesspagey @dreamersdrowse

[peachyteabuck]

remember what you love like

summary: is a lunch date still a lunch date after you leave the restaurant?

a commission for @buckysbunny

pairing: natasha romanoff x reader

words: 2,014

trigger warnings: allusions to compulsory heterosexuality, fingering, fluff, mentions of sexting

ask box / masterlist / commission info / ko-fi

Natasha’s hands are tangled in your forest green cardigan, one hand on the small of your back while the other is pressed into the back of your neck.

“You’re so beautiful,” she murmurs when you pull away to gasp for breath, head spinning as a trail of spit connects your mouths in a sight you wish you could see in one of those giant oil paintings that draw large crowds to art museums. “My beautiful little Bunny.”

You preen under her praise, your own hands shaky as they find purchase in her hair, the beltloop of her jeans, anything you can grab as she pushes you into your apartment, pressing you against each and every surface she deems fit. Somewhere between your front door and the wall directly opposite said entrance you lose your cardigan and your shoes, clothes falling to the floor as you’re pushes down the hallway and, finally, onto your bed. You’d made it that morning hoping your lunch date wouldn’t end after you’d left the restaurant just as you had cleaned the rest of your apartment. In truth you’re not sure whether the frantic scrubbing and organization of your kitchen was to impress her or distract yourself for how nervous you were, considering you and Natasha have been dating for about three months now and hadn’t done more than cuddle and today, today of all days felt like the right to rectify that. The two of you had spent all night sexting after you’d sent her a picture of you in your new bra – a pale pink one that made your tits look exquisite. Things had only escalated, you shoving your hands down your pajama shorts to get yourself off at her direction.

So yeah, given all of that, you were decently confident that you would end up with her tongue down your throat and her hands groping at your tits – a thought that left you some weird mixture of overjoyed and frightened.

As your back hits your girly, patterned comforter your heart beats against your ribcage, each chamber trying to rip itself from the rest of the muscle just so that it can travel to each of your limbs and make them shake. Something – someone – is screaming in your ears, the high-pitched sound nearly loud enough to drown out the woman who’s crawled on top of you.  

Nearly.

“Hey,” Natasha coos, peppering small kisses along your face and jaw and neck as her center presses into yours. “Hey, Bunny-“

You finally meet her eyes when that pet name – her pet name for you - falls from her lips. Only then does she notice how terrified you look.

“You good, Bunny?” she asks, her own heart now picking up not because her fingertips are on fire and your skin feels just as hot. “Is everything okay?”

“I, uh-“ you struggle to find the words, wishing you kept your blanket-like cardigan on so you could hide in it. “I haven’t done this with uh,” you trying to swallow despite your dry mouth. “With women.”

Natasha exhales deeply, face visibly softening. It doesn’t feel like pity, though, which suppresses a tiny bit of your nervousness; the last thing you want is for the woman responsible for the menagerie in your stomach each time she texts you or says your name or worms her way into every passing thought to think of you as some sort of charity case.

“Oh, babes,” she places each hand flat on either side of your jaw, both thumbs rubbing soothingly into your heated cheeks. “You know I’m okay with that – right? I don’t want you any less just because you haven’t done with women before.”

You sniffle, trying to keep the tears that prick the corners of your eyes in their spot. “A-are you sure?”

Natasha nods, leaving a small kiss on the center of your forehead. “Of course I am, Bunny. I don’t care how many women you’ve had sex with.”

“E-even though I’ve had sex with guys?” your eyes are big and scared, petrified of rejection.

Natasha just smiles, pulling you closer to her. “Yes, Bunny. Your sexual history certainly doesn’t define you as a person and doesn’t change how I feel about you. Okay?”

You smile back, leaning into her arms as you sniffle once more. “O-okay.”

“Now,” she smiles as she pulls back, readjusting herself onto her side as you stay on your back.  “Where were we?”

And just like that – with fear quelled and uncomfortable twisting in your stomach now loose and simmering below your skin – she returns to her original mission, one that involves ghosting her fingers over your clothed chest before thumbing at the hem of your denim skirt. “You’re so cute, Bunny,” she murmurs. “Such an adorable little Bunny all for me…”

Natasha then pushes your skirt up to your stomach, keeping it in place with her forearm as she begins rubbing the two middle fingers of her right hand along your clothed slit. Your chest heaves as she grins down at your scrunched eyes, furrowed brow, and kiss-swollen lips.

“So beautiful,” she murmurs into your neck, teeth barely pressing into the bruises that deepen with each passing moment. “So good for me, Bunny…”

Lewd moans fall from your mouth as circles your clit, the adorable pink cotton panties you had specifically chosen that morning hoping and praying this would happen now completely soaked through. They’re rough against your sensitive, desperate clit – pussy pulsing around nothing as you buck your hips frantically.

“P-please,” you moan, voice nearly unrecognizable now. “P-please N-Nat!”

She presses a firm kiss to your lips, smiling as she moves her hands to rub at your pussy under your panties. The feeling of her hand there without anything between her skin and your is intoxicating – her fingers easily finding your clit once more. “Call me Mommy,” she murmurs, free hand pushing the sweaty hairs from your forehead. “Call me Mommy, sweet Bunny.”

“Mommy, oh fuck-“ you gasp, the feeling of her hands and the mention of that title you’d been discussing the night before shooting another bolt of lightning through your nervous system, hands bunch the sheets in your palms – your fingers nearly numb as all of your blood rushes to your core. “Oh fucking shit!”

For the first time in what feels like hours you find the courage to open your eyes – another moan deep in your chest filling the hot, thick air. You always wondered why people described being fucked as being consumed, as being the main course in a large meal presented to some rich, old-timey monarch after they return from visiting the more desolate parts of the territory they rule over.

Now, though, under Natasha’s heated gaze with three of her fingers stuffed inside of you while the other hand presses into your stomach – you feel like some prized pig slathered in glaze and placed onto an obnoxious silver platter with a whole apple placed into your waiting mouth as fruits and vegetables circle your flesh. If you had ever felt desired, it certainly didn’t match up to the fire in Natasha’s eyes as she devours each time you twitch, moan, beg for more.

“You sure you want more?” she purrs, fingers stroking that spot inside of you that makes your legs shake and eyes tear up once more. “Does my greedy little Bunny want her Mommy to give her more?”

You nod furiously, mouth barely able to keep up with your racing thoughts. “Yes, fuck Mommy please please please I want-“ you moan as she fucks into you harder, reveling in watching you fall apart. “Please I’ll take anything you want to give me Mommy please!”

Without further delay Natasha moves between your legs, maneuvering you so that one of her hands fucked in and out of you while the other circles your clit in hot, tight circles. Your eyes don’t know where to focus – on the sight on Natasha’s hands working you into some kind of putty or the woman herself, whose smug grin and furrowed brow are almost intimidating in their determination.

“M-mommy,” you gasp out, legs trying to shut themselves involuntarily, stopped only by the woman between your legs. Your toes curl, spine bending forward as the white-hot pleasure in your stomach curls itself tighter and tighter around itself. “Mommy, Mommy, I’m gonna, I’m gonna-!”

You come with a guttural moan you almost don’t recognize as yours – a sound so animalistic you wonder if Natasha had rewired your brain into some pre-human thing incapable of speech. It’s hot, so hot, and in your post-orgasmic bliss you wonder if life could get any better.

“How you feeling, Bunny?” Natasha asks, trying to find some signs of life behind your glazed-over eyes.

“So fucking good! I feel so good, Mommy!” you gasp out, mouth dry and lunges seemingly devoid of oxygen.

The woman above you just laughs, though, throws her beautiful head back and laughs and oh God – oh God you need to find it in you to tell her to stop doing that because you’ve only been dating for a few months and her beauty radiates with the power of the sun and you weren’t born with UV-protection in your retinas and if her light doesn’t burn you to a crisp first you think you’re going to fucking explode.

“I’m glad,” she tells you, running her now-wrinkled fingertips over the inside of your trembling thighs. Silence settles of you both as you feel your bones…vibrate? Or maybe that’s chest your heart again – the stupid thing incapable of handling this much joy and pleasure at the same time. It takes a long while for Natasha to speak again, not wanting to spook you in your fragile state. “Hey Bunny?” she asks, watching to make sure you’d heard her. “I’m gonna get you some water, okay?”

You give her a small “okay,” body still as she climbs off your bed.

You’re boneless – inert as you lay there with your arms flat at your sides and your legs in the same bent position Natasha had left them in before she had oh-so meanly abandoned you. Just as before, your chest rises and falls as if a forty-pound weight was pressing into it – each inhale painful and a struggle with the exhales happening all too quickly. It’s unfamiliar, being so satiated. Being with men had left you feeling fine, maybe a little out of breath, but with Natasha? God, you wouldn’t be able to move if the fire alarms went off; you’d just lay here, vision fuzzy around the edges as the smell of smoke came through the air vents. (Then again, given the state of Natasha’s arms, you think she’d be able to carry you out of your apartment building just fine.)

She returns – just as she said she would – with a mug of cold water that she holds as if it was priceless and not something you thrifted for less than a dollar when you had moved from your last apartment.  

“Thanks,” you croak as she hands it to you, watching as you sit up and wince ever so slightly as your sensitive pussy presses into the sheets. You’ll need to change them – and soon – but somehow that feels like an impossible task as you gulp down what, in your state, tastes closer to ambrosia than the shit in your Brita. When you’re finished Natasha takes the now empty mug from you, placing it on your nightstand before hugging you to her chest and pushing you back until you hit the sheets once more, lying down next to you and throwing her arm around your waist.

“You good, Bunny?” she asks again, a part of her always worried about you no matter how much euphoria pooled in your veins.

You nod as you curl into her side, leaving a kiss on her collarbone as you listen to her heartrate slow as it returns its resting pace. It’s calming, that combined with the feeling of her fingers twirling in your mused hair lulling you into the deepest sleep you’ve had in weeks.  

[avengerscompound]

It’s You and Me - Chapter 8

It’s You and Me: A Hawkeye Fanfic

Series Masterlist PREVIOUS //

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing:  Clint Barton x  F!Reader

Word Count:  1724

Rating:  E

Warnings:  Mentions of past abuse

Synopsis: You and Clint Barton go way back.  Since you joined the circus as a child, he took it upon himself to keep you away from the people who really wanted to hurt you.  For years the two of you danced a line between dark and light.

When he chooses light the two of you go your separate ways.

Fifteen years later he tracks you down.  Those feelings the two of you shared never went away, but now he is not only an Avengers but a single father.  Can the two of you make it work after all this time when your lives have gone in such different directions?

A series told in flashbacks and current day.

Chapter 9: Then

“Welcome to the ring, the man who can’t miss - Hawkeye!”

The crowd cheered and Clint cantered his horse out into the ring, he climbed up, so he was standing and waved to the crowd as he did a lap.

“And the girl he can’t seem to hit, Sugar Snap!”

You rode out, first flipping off the front of your horse and then back on again, before bringing your horse up beside his, so the two of you were riding, standing up, side-by-side.  “Ready?”  Clint said.

“Always,” you replied.

You sat back down and spurred the horse on.  As you took the lead on Clint, you collected your bow and an arrow from one of the clowns standing at the side of the ring.  Clint did the same as he passed them and watched as you got into the handstand position on your moving horse.  The crowd went deadly silent as you knocked your arrow with your feet, Clint got into the same position.  You loosed the arrow as you passed the target, hitting it dead center.  The crowd erupted in applause but before it even reached its peak, Clint loosed his arrow with his feet and it hit yours, splitting the shaft right down the middle.

The crowd went berserk.  You and Clint, both vaulted off your horses and landed side by side in the middle of the ring, your arms raised.  You bowed together, first to one side of the crowd and then the other, soaking in the applause.

You were 18 now, and the act was flawless.  The ringmaster always had you opening these days, and it had been a long time since anyone had approached either of you about doing any of their criminal dealings.  There had been an incident a year back where Clint had discovered Jacques with a load of stolen money and when he’d gone to turn the swordsman in, Jacques attempted to kill him.  Clint had ended up with two broken legs, and his brother Barney had left the circus to go to college to get away from everything the circus was not long after that.  He had asked Clint to go with him, but Clint had been so high on this rush of what he could only call fame, that there was no way he could let it go now.

Besides, he had Eden and he knew that if he left the circus it would mean leaving her too and he was not willing to do that.

Some of the clowns brought the rest of the equipment in and Clint put his quiver on his back and grabbed his bow.  The next part of the act was about precision archery, acrobatics, perfect timing, and making sure he selected the correct arrow for each shot.

He turned and aimed an arrow so it looked as if it was aiming at you, but was in fact aiming at a small target stuck to one of the tent poles just next to the audience.  Close enough that they could all see how he hit the target and that it would feel like they were at risk, but not so close that there was in any risk at all.

You ran backward and did a backflip, just as you launched yourself up off the ground, Clint loosed the arrow and it sailed under you, hitting the center of the target with a thud as you landed back on your feet.  You began to run around the outside of the arena, and he loosed arrow after arrow in front of you, and you flipped over each one again and again, to the ‘oohs’ and ‘ahhs’ of the crowd while each arrow hit the target perfectly.

When you reached the target board, Clint changed the arrows.  He began to loose them so each hit about a foot apart and a foot higher than the last, forming steps up the board.  You climbed them as they hit, so it appeared as if you were stepping into the air and he was catching you with the arrows.  When you reached the high wire platform above, Clint moved into a different routine.

He hit moving targets, including pinning three small targets that swung down from three different directions and pinning them together with one arrow.  He hit targets while he was flipping from one platform to another.  All the while soaking in the attention from the crowd.  Above him, you were getting into a harness that would only be visible to the keenest of eyes.

When you were secure, you began dropping things on him.  He started by quickly loosing arrows, sometimes three or four at a time, and pinning each item you dropped to a different target around the tent.  Then he switched, dropping his bow and arrow and picking up a sword, as each item fell from above he sliced it in half.

A few of the clowns came out with big trench coats on and carrying umbrellas.  You began dropping water balloons on them and while everyone was distracted, Clint put on his special trenchcoat and hat. It was the one designed for the finale of the routine.  It had a locking mechanism in the arm that allowed him to catch you on the blade of a sword without his arm jerking on impact.

A huge bag of confetti dropped and exploded, queuing the clowns to scatter.  You dropped a few more things down on him, letting Clint use his left arm to slice them in two, to show the crowd that the sword was real and not blunt.

Then you jumped.  You spun in the air, corkscrewing down toward him, he brandished his sword, and when you hit the springboard, you jumped up and flipped.  Clint switched hands and lunged forward, the elbow mechanism locking in place so the flat of the blade was facing up.  You landed on it, sending a shock through his arm.  Everyone clapped and you curtsied while standing on the blade.  Clint moved to grab you in a large over-exaggerated way and you backflipped catching the brim of his hate with your toe and flipping it off his head.  You landed and ran forward, catching the hat on your head.

The crowd erupted, everyone getting to their feet and cheering for you both.  You helped Clint off with his coat and both of you bowed as your horses cantered back into the ring.  You each ran to your horse and vaulted onto it’s back, taking a lap.  Maynard entered the ring with his whip and took his spot on a podium in the middle as the clowns rushed in and cleaned up.  “Let’s hear it again, for Hawkeye and Sugar Snap!’

The crowd applauded more and Clint followed you out of the ring.  “And now, our very own Garden of Eden!”  Maynard called, and Eden ran out past Clint, winking as she passed him.

Clint got off his horse and rolled his shoulders as you approached him.  “I think I need to work on that first jump.  I felt that arrow,” you said.

“You always say that, and I always tell you it’s in your head,” Clint teased.  He walked over to the lip of the curtain and looked out at Eden as she did her contortion act.  You stepped up beside him.

“Just before I came out, Jacques approached her and said something about some art job,” you said.

Clint bristled.  He’d been hearing rumors about an art job for the past few days.  He wasn’t sure exactly what was going on, mostly because he just tried to steer clear of all of that.  There had definitely been a meeting with some art guy and the Ringmaster.  Clint had remembered seeing the bald man with his black turtleneck and rectangular framed glasses talking to Tiboldt about the circus performers coming to some art museum as part of a charity gig.  “She’s probably going to be part of that charity gig.”

You shrugged.  “Yeah, maybe.”

Clint turned and looked at you.  “What aren’t you telling me?”

“Nothing,” you said, though he wasn’t convinced.

Clint had managed to get you to legal age without any more explicit photos being taken, but he knew Jacques still had a habit of sniffing around you.  Barely legal wasn’t as good as illegal, but it would still make him money, and you had other things to offer now.  The ability to parkour was a huge advantage to them, and you were very good with a blade.  Clint knew that while the act was as good as it was, Jacques couldn’t threaten to have you kicked out, but he could offer you things and Clint wasn’t totally sure if you would always say no.  Not if it was something like breaking and entering, and if this was some scam being organized by Tiboldt, then he was the boss, and if he said jump, you jumped.

“Sugar?”  Clint pressed.

You huffed.  “Wanted me to help him break in and help them steal some art.  Said Tiboldt wanted everyone on the job.”

“Sugar!”  Clint yelped.

“I said no!”  You said.  “Who wants a bunch of dusty old paintings anyway?”

“You think he’s trying to recruit Eden?”  Clint asked.

You shrugged again.  “Probably.  Or Tiboldt already has and he was just passing on a message.”

Clint sighed, he wanted to believe that she wouldn’t be involved in anything like that, but love and trust were not things that were linked very strongly for him.  “She wouldn't, would she?”  He asked.

You shrugged again.  “I dunno, Clint.  You know her better than me.  I do know that just about everyone else here would.”

He shook his head and stepped away from the curtain.  “I’m gonna take a shower.  I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You nodded and didn’t say anything.  Just as he moved away he looked back at you.  “Hey… thanks… you know…?  For letting me know.”

You nodded and folded your hands over your chest.  “Anytime, Clint.  You know that.  It’s me and you.”

Clint wasn’t so sure about that.  He’d believed it before about other people who had let him down.  But as he sized you up, he thought maybe of all the people in this circus he was supposed to think of as family, you might be the one that fit the description best.

// NEXT

[grumpy-zane]

((Idk what to title this. DOTD stuff/Royal Blacksmith HC lore.

WARNING: this is long.))

Dareth ran the tablecloth up and down the counter, scrubbing out the spots that had ring stains to the beat of the song cracking from the radio. It was still too early in the evening to open up shop, but he didn't mind the wait. It gave him a lot of time to double check everything and re-count inventory. He flicked off the radio and on the TV, leaning on the counter to catch the news.

Nothing important was happening today, unless you counted traffic jams as a lethal city attack, and it was the perfect weather to hit the beach according to the news. No doubt Gayle was trying to find something to talk about, but, "Not a single story to get a scoop out of today, miss reporter," he spoke to the screen. Eyeing the window, he contemplated going out for an hour to catch some rays. Not that he needed it immediately, but he had notice that his tan was starting to fade as of late.

Knocking against the door pulled him from his thoughts. "We're not open yet, come back in three hours!" Dareth called, hoping his voice carried though the thick wood.

"Not a patron!" A prideful voice muffled back.

"Lou?" He stood up and answered the door. "Lou! Good to see ya, how have you been?"

"Well I've been just wonderful," he smiled and stepped inside, taking a seat at the bar while Dareth returned to his position, "I stopped by to talk to you about Day of the Departed plans."

"You know me, always room in my schedule for that. That's a few months away though, right?"

"Yes, but its always good to plan these things far in advance. Anyway, the other day when I was going through the archives, It hit me that I never let Cole experience how the Royal Blacksmiths formed."

Dareth lowered the TV volume, "Wait, I thought Cole didn't want to be a Blacksmith?"

"No, of course not! But its family history that I think he and his friends should know.. on top of a performance of course! That’s why I've come to you! We need the Jade Palace rented out." Lou beamed.

Bewilderment struck across his face, "Lou. You can't just rent out the Jade Palace- sure the city rebuilt it and turned it into a memorial.. museum.. actually I haven't been inside. But! Isn't that a little 'out there' in terms of.. you know.."

He laughed, "That’s why I came to you! You know how to make the impossible work out! And it's perfect too! 'The Royal Blacksmiths perform at the Jade Palace: a Historical Unraveling', I can see the headline now." He looked up, picturing the scenario in his mind.

Dareth folded his arms and thought about it. No doubt he'd have to talk to a rabbit hole of people just to pull it off, at least Lou came to him about it now rather than one week in advanced. "I'll see what I can do," he sighed.

"Haha, yes! I knew I could count on you!" He jumped up and headed towards the door, "I'll give you more details once I flesh them out. This is going to be so much fun!" The door shut in excitement.

---------

"You said your dad planned something?" Jay popped a few pieces of candy in his mouth, "something about the palace?"

"Yeah," he reached over and dug into the bag, grabbing out a taffy. "He said he had something special for the team- more importantly me, but he extended the invitation. He said something about Blacksmith history, I just hope he doesn’t drone on and on." Cole rolled his eyes.

"It sounds like you didn't have a very good experience with this in the past?"

He shrugged, "My dad was never a 'when I was your age' person, but he was a 'your great great whatever' person when it came to performing. I didn't like listening to it, so I never payed much attention."

The two climbed the front stairway just as people were departing. so much for making the show, but at least they weren’t absurdly late and didn’t leave Lou waiting half an hour. Kai and Nya looked away from the entry way and waved at the two, drawing the attention of Dareth was was hovering around the side walls. He whistled, Lou snapping away from the conversation of the quartet and smiling. “Cole! Jay! there you two are!”

“Hey dad-” the two hugged, “sorry we missed the performance. Crime never rests.”

“Yeah, luckily Pixal and Zane took over for us.” Jay chirped, “So, a story? Will it be in the form of a song?”

He laughed and rested a hand on Cole’s shoulder, leading the two up through the entrance. “No, no, I’m afraid not. The boys want to call it early tonight, so it’s going to just be me.” Lou nodded to the rest of his group, the three calling their goodnights and goodbyes. “So, you said two of you aren’t showing up, what about Lloyd?”

Jay and Cole exchanged glanced, then repeated the motion with Kai and Nya.Usually everyone would be here, but the S.O.G. no doubt made him rethink things in regards to his father. “I’ll keep a look out for him,” Dareth waved a hand and smirked, “I already got the low-down and I’ll get him up to speed. You guys enjoy the tour.”

--

The interior was much like it was before the destruction, though more antique fitted for the occasion, no doubt. Glass cases displayed attire and relics of an older time; worn armor stood tall on wooden racks, faded paintings hung beneath special lights, weapons held vertically reflected the gold trimmings surrounding them, and masks hung from the walls. Lou proudly walked past the displays to a dark lit wall, “As all of you know who the Royal Blacksmiths are, I won’t e going over that. Instead, I want to start from the very beginning.” He flicked on a light, illuminating the wall with a portrait through a lamp. “Before there were Blacksmiths, there were entertainers. This group of four traveled through Ninjago by foot, performing tricks no one had seen before! Their acts drew the attention of the Royal Family, who’s prince was delighted by their performances! So much so, that he invited them to perform at the palace.”

Cole tried not to sigh, feeling deja vu from this spiel. Taking a look around, it seemed like no one else was feeling the same. Whether that was for better or worse...

“Mr. Compère, You’re needed!” Lou jumped with the rest of the group, the masked man wrapped his arm around the Blacksmith, his attire making him look out of place, hailing from a lost time.

“M-Mr. Compère?” He sputtered.

“Yes, the King wants to see what we can do!” He was promptly pulled away, the person stopping to look back at the stunned Ninja. “You best be making your way to the stage if you don’t want to miss the performance.” He held up a finger to the lips of the mask, dispersing away into smoke.

Jay gawked, “Did you just SEE THAT?!”

“Who was that?” Kai asked, Cole pushing everyone aside.

“I dunno, but I don’t like the sound of what he has planned. Come on!”

Grand pillars held up the octagonal roof, the rafters danging dozens of lights of varying color, each held at a height that pointed down to the stage. The squad shoved open the doors, weapons brandished ready to fight when they were once again dumbstruck. On the far side the king sat, his green robes draping over his armored body. The Jade undertones in the trimming angled in a way that drew attention to his pale face, his dark eyes watching intently at the four masked men who stood in a circle with their backs on the inside. Among the four, one rose up an instrument: a lyre, intricately carved in ancient Ninjagian. The notes that escaped it echoed in the large room, the lights flickering as the air reacted to the music. The other three drew comically long blades, lifting them to the air and spinning around in a dance.

“The King and his son watched as their performance spelled out the story of a bard, One of which caught in plans that would prove to be quite fatal,” Lou’s voice spoke from the upper floor. As if on queue, one of the masked figured drove their sword into the other, shocking the royalty as the other two dropped to the floor dramatically. The bard only paused, returning to his playing once again. Another masked person stabbed their sword through, followed by the third, but the playing did not cease. This frightened the assailants, the person turning and gliding towards them, scaring them off stage. “It was such a grand display of endurance, that the King thought it would be foolish to simply send them away without compensation. Thus, he dubbed the ensemble, ‘The Royal Blacksmiths’, entertainers of the Royal Family.”

Cole lead the way around the lower balcony, the lights above blowing out suddenly before flickering back on. The stage had dramatically changed, one of that reflect a circus. The ringleader faced the four who had taken a seat next to the railing. Kai blinked, “Hey is that-”

“Ladies, and Gentlefolk, Tonight’s performance is none other than The Wondrous, Illustrious, Roooyaall Blacksmiths!” He brown cape flew as he lifted an arm to them, the curtains flying open as a large tiger leapt forward. One of the blacksmiths, wearing a black suit and white face paint with red accents, jogged across the ring, leading the large cat around the obstacles and through the tubes. From the other side, another Blacksmith ran out, performing flips through the same obstacle course and landing on a rolling board. A third leapt over the back curtain, landing in the hold of the rolling one who lifted them elegantly. The fourth emerged in a cloud of smoke, holding an arm out to the Ringleader who promptly through his hat and cane.

“Cole, That’s your dad!” Jay giddily squealed, pointing at the center circle.

“What?!”

Lou gently bowed, spinning the cane around and throwing it into the air, catching it and tossing it up again even higher. “No more was the need to act plays and stories, the people wanted to see something extraordinary, and so it was!” Lou shouted, barely turning around in time to see the tiger leap from the back curtains again.

“Dad look out-!” Cole leapt up from his seat, gripping the railing as the tiger fell into the hat and disappeared completely. Lou caught the cane and tossed it up again, winking at his son as he whipped the hat directly at him. It spun back around just out of reach and out of the light. The wheeling blacksmith sped up their circles, tossing the other into the air and catching the cane. The other landed next to Lou, striking a pose as the third slid out from the curtain on the other side. Lou kept his hands raised, marching in place as the cane was tossed up again. He grabbed it just as the last smith found his place behind the three, sparks exploding from the end of the cane like fireworks. The hat finally came back around which he promptly caught, lowering it to the ground and letting a small house cat step out of it.

“But it was so, that the life of excitement wasn’t something everyone could handle. Generations of building up elaborate stunts were daunting to the eyes of a junior, and so he chose a different approach,” Lou spoke as the quartet began humming various pitches. “He thought no one should bear to hear such noises that left ears ringing, Instead he came up with a new plan! One that involved singing!” He held the last word on a high note.

The tiger let out a low grumble, its purring distracting everyone to look at the side wall. “Oh nuts,” Dareth, the ringleader, smiled sheepishly, gently scratching the large cat under the chin.

Lou cleared his throat, “And so here we are now, carrying out the tradition to entertain no matter the form, display, or song. I hope you all enjoyed the performances, you especially, Cole.” He smiled up at his son.

Jay barged into the conversation, “That. Was. Awesome!”

“How did you pull it all off??” Nya asked, beaming.

“I would have never guessed that it was that deep,” Kai mirrored their excitement, “who knew?”

Cole leapt down from the balcony and approached his father, “You did all of this, just for me?”

“Of course, Cole, It’s family history!.. and I wanted to let you know that, not everyone in our historical line wanted to do what their fore-fathers did. I’m proud of you, that you’re a ninja, It gives me a lot to write and sing about!” He gripped Cole’s shoulder and laughed, pulling him into a half hug.

The other ninja had leapt down, asking the others as the group of performers congregated in the pit. It was a shame that Zane, Pixal, and Lloyd missed it, but Cole was sure that Kai had recorded at least part of it on his phone for his social media followers. The earth ninja eyed around at the general happiness, content with it, and leaned against his dad. “Happy Day of the Departed, dad.”

He squeezed him back, chuckling, “Happy Day of the departed.”

[merrysithmas]

hi! i don’t know if we’ve ever chatted before, but you were on my dash with some good stucky content and i thought i’d send some, too? if that’s okay? i love the thought of steve and bucky being best friends above anything— they were like that before they were lovers! i think that’s always forgotten in favor of romance. but in that sense, that means like,,, inside jokes!!! kicking each other under tables and clowning each other for funny faces they make!!! laughing during sex!! tugging at each other’s earlobes and hair and poking and prodding and just generally being menaces!! wrestling matches that end in soft kisses, only for bucky to go back to wrestling because he’s “gonna win no matter what, rogers”. anyway, sorry i rambled, just,,, good best friend to lovers shit

omg a thousand times YES!! this is my most favorite thing about them! this very real, raw, plainspoken, ride-or-die, hard luck circumstance, devotion and friendship they have for one another! preserum/prewar stucky is the whole reason why i started liking this ship in the first place like 🥺 it's that foundation of such SIMPLE PURE affection and closeness which in contrast makes the epic sprawl of their relationship so incredibly poignant and beautiful!

-like kicking their feet off the docks at Coney Island! spending all their money on hotdogs like idiots, Bucky has INSANE aim at the shoot-to-win carnival games and Steve's slack-jawed stunned about it. Bucky can't stop grinning and Steve's elbowing him in the side amiably as they walk. Steve dragging his feet to church with his strict as all hell Irish immigrant mother on Sundays and then making a B-line to Bucky's house the second he can breakaway after mass, scrambling through the alleyways of Brooklyn down their "secret passages". Bucky climbing the fire escape to Steve's window (Bucky was a Romeo back in the day) before romance even caught their thoughts.

-The first time Steve ever rode in an honest-to-god automobile was Bucky's father's car, before he died, before the Crash bankrupted everyone's dreams and accounts and hearts, before the barely more than hardluck Barnes' lost everything Steve never had and more. Steve knowing exactly where Bucky keeps his worn-to-hell dress shoes that he breaks out every time he goes dancing. How much those old awful shoes mean to him.

-The way Steve notices how Bucky's too-easy and bright to be real smile pops up only in the most dubious of moments, how Dot and Jennie and Enid never seem to make him laugh as positively red-faced and ugly as Steve does when they're just shooting the shit and Steve's sketching down the cityscape at sunset on the fire escape, making some hideously inappropriate joke that makes Bucky gag with laughter.

-The one-and-only time Steve ever cried after a fight when his orbital bone above his eye was cracked and his skin was raw as hell and maybe even on its way to infection, the time it hurt so bad he saw stars (and not in the good way, the sometimes bad high-chasing way he fought people way too big and too mean for him precisely because it was against his better judgement, and preened his worser insecurities), and Bucky's mucking around noisily in the kitchen clanging pots and pans trying not to rip his own hair out with wanting to hover and smother him, and eventually just presses a hot cloth with soap straight to it when Steve emerges red-eyed from the bathroom, and Steve's howling in pain from the soap, and Bucky's more pissed than anything now - maybe even holding his head against it a little too hard on purpose, goddamnit Steve he was three times your size, you want someone to kick your ass? How bout me huh? Huh?

-Bucky promising to go to the Met with Steve, finally making it up to Central Park together on the best day of autumn, leaves falling around them like a wonderland and they can't even believe their luck... something so simple and perfect. Roasted chestnuts at the holidays from streetcarts and their hands burning up from them because they dont even have gloves in this horrible wintry cold but it was worth the whole 3 cents and pricked up fingertips anyway.

-When Steve broke his nose and Bucky set it, the loudest string of curse words ever uttered or known to man. Listening to Dodgers games on the radio, standing up and sitting down and running their hands through their hair in agitation, screaming at the announcer, windows open, hot summer again, clothes drying on the clotheslines hung up across the alley.

-The way Bucky watches Steve's face when he's looking at one of those big mournful paintings hanging in the Met... like he's looking at heaven itself, or even better, learning to appreciate things down here for what they are just a little bit more. How Steve looks like the pale and fantastic figures in those paintings, how it's always so quiet in the museum hallways but Steve is lit up and alive, how Bucky tries to focus in on these concepts of art and structure and composition that he initially thinks are way above him - for Steve.

-Steve half asleep on the Barnes' couch as Bucky ties Becca's hair up in a ribbon for her date with Richard, and he's dozing to the sounds of the radio and the city outside. Bucky having Steve over for every Romanian holiday, Bucky's cousins making him drink Țuică and Bucky's mom making Bucky tell Steve about the dream she had that she's convinced is a premonition about Steve and a Red-Faced Monster...

sigh!

[yyparkq]

hooked

characters: park sungjin x reader

word count: ~3.2k

summary: park sungjin is almost a perfect boyfriend for you...until he abruptly starts being emotionally withdrawn from you a few months into your relationship.

genre: fluff, smut

tw: mentions of anxiety, unprotected sex, slightly toxic relationship

requested by @parksungjinsfan

a/n: had tons of fun writing this really warm and cozy sungjin, thank you for the request!! tbh, i always see him as someone i’d be comfortable to share everything that’s on my mind. and i feel like he’s one of the very few people who will never judge you for your stupid mistakes but is also someone who needs to be taken care of. im blabbering too much. enjoy the story! :)

There was nothing special on the day you first met Park Sungjin. Like any other normal college student, you were able to find yourself a small circle you can trust and have fun with. Because of them, you have encountered the seemingly quiet and mysterious guy from the engineering class. He was best friends with the guy your close friend, Erin, was dating.

If first impressions last, like how they say it does, you’re fairly sure you would barely get more acquainted with a Park Sungjin. Unlike you, Sungjin is more reserved with a constant hang of serious air around him, like the type of person who barely laughs when someone makes a joke in front of him. He doesn’t always hang out with a lot of people but when he does, he’s always got an earphone dangling in one of his ears as if saying he’s only halfway present. He dresses neatly albeit casually—oftentimes in a plaid or button-down shirt and faded jeans with his dark, wavy hair falling shortly before his dark brown eyes.

He’s a pretty decent guy but not really the type you see yourself to be dating. But when you accidentally met him at the movie house alone and decided to grab dinner after, you two hit it off so smoothly. Turns out you both share the love for the book that was recently adapted onto the big screen. You two talked over dinner nonstop about the movie, how it varies against the book, the great and bad parts that were changed, the cast that played the role, the cinematography, the lines. Your exchange that night was nothing but informative and honestly, you craved more to be with him after that night so you asked him to hang out with you again. Sungjin already had a perfect proposal to invite you the second time if you didn’t ask. His mind worked extra hard trying to keep up with the conversation with you while thinking about how to ask you out for the second time at the back of his mind.

It was a ticket to an international classical play that he had up his sleeves which you gladly accepted.

One impromptu date was followed by a few more. After classes, you will meet over snacks or spend time in the library, reading and studying together. On weekends, you will try to watch movies you find interesting or go to museums.

You dating each other has not been a complete secret from your friends and you’re glad at how supportive they are to your new relationship.  Somehow, you learned that Sungjin is actually an easy-going person, he talks and laughs a lot when he’s comfortable with the people he’s with. He’s knowledgable and he knows how to listen and strike up a healthy argument when needed even though sometimes he could be a little awkward and even seem standoffish.

Your friends think that your relationship is pure and innocent—almost platonic as one could say—but they couldn’t be any more wrong. Yes, you and Sungjin maintain a totally discreet relationship when you’re in public and with friends. It’s not like you have to tell anyone but you laugh inside when some of your friends ask about the status of your sex life. You never responded to such questions positively, not too comfortable in sharing such intimate details about your life with anyone, and somehow it painted an idea in their heads that you and Sungjin have never had sex yet.

The thing is, you two are fairly active in that regard. There is an unbelievably strong bond between you and Sungjin after the first date that is almost impossible for either of you to resist.

It was after the third date when you first give in to your desire. After spending time looking at ancient monarch artifacts and roaming around the museum, you were met with heavy rains the moment you stepped out of the museum building. Being in the middle of the summer, neither of you had attempted to check the weather that day for any sign of impending downpour that day. Your thin, white button-down shirt styled as a dress stuck to your skin as you both ran for his car across the parking lot, rendering your clothes almost transparent the moment you climbed into the passenger seat. The sight of you being wet and in close proximity with Sungjin didn’t help him control himself either.

“Would you like to come over to my place?” he asked coolly after giving you his spare jacket from the backseat to cover yourself. Even with his imaginations going wild, he’s still a gentleman in your eyes.

“Sure,” you nodded, well aware of what’s about to come next. It could be seen as taking things too fast but frankly, you didn’t care. You wanted this and it seemed like he did too.

You blushed when he flashed you that warm smile that reached his eyes before starting the car and driving away.

Sungjin refused to let you go home that night until you practically cannot walk. He fucked you senseless until you’re almost out of your wits, one orgasm after another until you’re quivering uncontrollably.

It has been five months since you started dating. Everything’s going pretty well in your relationship except that you are in no exception for fights and misunderstandings. Everyone says it’s normal in every relationship but for you who has barely had a serious relationship like what you currently have with Sungjin, it’s a foreign feeling trying to make amends with someone you’re romantically involved with and had to choose the next move.

This is the first major fight with him. The last five months of dating have been wonderful until weeks ago when you noticed that your boyfriend started withdrawing himself from you, physically and emotionally. This stressed you out though you still tried your best to be there for him. Whenever you two are alone, you couldn’t really talk to him about anything for more than five minutes. His mind obviously wandering off and he never realizes it when you stop mid-sentence until you’re parting ways. Whenever you try to ask what’s been bothering him, he just easily dismisses it off, saying he’s tired and he lacks sleep—which is also why you tried to limit your meetings after classes and dates, thinking it would help him a bit to spare a few more hours to rest. This side of Sungjin is completely new to you as you’ve known him for being so straightforward in telling what he thinks or feels and is usually logical with his actions. The fact that he no longer shares what’s bothering him makes you think of a hundred different reasons for being cold towards you.

Has he had enough of you? Did he realize you were too plain and boring for his liking? Were you not good in bed? Did he find someone else?

The blood on your face drained at the thought of Sungjin going out with some other girl. But you can’t stop him if that’s what he wants, can you? You can’t tell him how to feel. Of all the things, to be an obsessive girlfriend is one you’re dreading the most and after all the sacrifices and adjustments you made to try to help him with whatever burden he’s lifting, you’re determined to let him find the answers to his troubles himself. It’s not that you no longer want to help him, you love him too much, after all, but how can you help someone who refuses to help himself?

“Sweetie, have you tried talking to him again lately?” your friend, Yejin asked.

You glared at her and disappointment crossed your face. Has she really been listening to ask that question?

“No, I mean, I thought the last real conversation you had personally was like, what, almost two weeks ago? Did you try seeing him after class again after that?”

The three of you sat at your usual place in the coffee shop when your class was canceled by the professor to attend some personal matters.

Shaking your head, you reached for your cup and took a sip before answering. “I haven’t. He kept saying he’s tired and needs sleep so I gave him time to rest. And it’s been four days of merely receiving a text message from him. He won’t text me unless I text him first. I have no idea what’s happening to him,” you looked at Erin’s direction. “Did JB say anything?”

“That motherfucker doesn’t tell me any of his friends’ business, Y/N, but let me see if I can get anything.”

Even your friends who got closer to your boyfriend can’t think of him as someone who would cheat or be entertained by other girls. After a whole hour at the coffee shop trying to guess the possible reasons for Sungjin’s actions,  they suggested a silly plan of making him jealous to see how he responds when you’re on the brink of being taken away from him.

You did not like the idea. It was ridiculous and manipulative. You’re no longer in high school.  

“Come on, that could be a wake-up call for him. Just think of it as a social experiment and you’ll be fine,” Yejin tried to persuade you.

Ridiculously scary. Deep down, you’re also scared of how he will react to this plan. What if the situation worsens instead of getting better? He could just not talk to you again forever and you'll be dwelling in your own pain alone because of a stupid idea. But doing something is better than sulking and doing nothing, right? You’re young, and when you’re young, you can be stupid for free.

So you agreed and you started planning your own little scheme with your friends, hoping not to cause any further damage to your entire relationship.

For days, Erin made up stories about a guy from your class who is making a move on you and told her boyfriend about the plan to make Sungjin jealous. When JB said his best friend interrogated him about the innocent guy, she knew the plan will be going well so she came up with another without telling you.

As a celebration for the nearing end of the finals, your seniors decided to throw a grand party. Such parties should be considered a tradition already since almost everyone finds an excuse to get wasted after studying hard for the whole semester. You’re not one to miss such a celebration, especially when you ever really party during after the hell week.

Overhearing JB’s conversations with his girlfriend about some dude lurking around you has brought him back to his senses. For the last couple of days, he contemplated and reflected on his attitude towards you. He’s been a jerk to you lately and frankly, he didn’t know how to approach you again after that. He’s been too occupied in his own head that he forgot he actually has you now, someone who’s more than willing to share his troubles. Before he knew it, he was dashing through his car to the party where Yejin told him you’d be.

You came to the party to try to not overthink the problem between you and Sungjin. After surviving the finals week with emotional baggage, you know you deserve some booze to celebrate walking out of at least one thing alive. the last thing you hear about your little scheme with your friends is that Sungjin fired questions to JB. But he didn’t talk to you after that. Thankfully, you were also too busy to worry about your grades and it’s been a great distraction so far. Now that the finals are over, you’ll be damned again.

Sungjin found you scooping from a large tub of ice cream from the kitchen, bottles of beer and half-filled party cups surrounding you in the little space. There is a guy beside you laughing at the way you’re trying to scoop a frozen solid treat using a regular spoon. You’re too focused on what you’re doing that you didn’t see him come right in front of you.

To your surprise, Sungjin snatched the tub out of grasp and grabbed your hand. You needed a second to process what just happened but you are elated to see your boyfriend after nearly three weeks.

You let Sungjin pull you but were shocked when the guy beside you grabbed on your other wrist. What the hell? You didn’t even know his name. You saw Sungjin squint at the nameless guy and you immediately yanked away from him, wincing at the sudden jerk of your own hand immediately after.

Sungjin kept you to his chest as he waded through the sea of drunk people. All the while, you kept looking at his face. It felt months since you’ve been this close to him and at that moment, you were just ready to feed on whatever excuse he could say. He could lie to your face at that moment and you’d still be happy to welcome him back into your arms.

Merely a few feet from his car, you stopped walking and tugged on his arm. You slowly closed the distance between you two and encircled your arms around his shoulders when he turned to look at you.

Sungjin looked at your face closely, noticing you’ve lost some weight by the way the dimple on your left poked your cheek a bit deeper than the last time he saw you. His hands automatically found their way at your sides.

“I miss you so much,” you whispered while searching his eyes.

Sungjin leaned forward and kissed you feverishly. He guided you on your back until you are leaning toward his parked car. He pressed his body against you and you continued kissing until you both needed to gasp for some air. After resting for a few seconds, he began nipping and sucking on the sensitive area on your neck.

Proper communication be damned—you need him to touch you and you need it as soon as possible. You squirmed beneath him to try to close your legs when you felt wetness pooling in your panties but Sungjin’s left leg was pressed between your thighs.

He understood what you’re trying to do and immediately pressed a thigh against your core, amused to feel your wetness even through the material of your panties. His cock twitched inside his pants.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I’m sorry,” he repeated as he embraced you tightly and kissed your temple before opening the door and letting you inside his car drove away.

Sungjin's hands quickly reached for the zipper of your dress, letting it pool around your feet, as soon as you reached inside his apartment. In an instant, his mouth was back against yours. He lifted both your thighs to circle his hips and your arms circled his broad shoulders for support.

You felt his hard shaft poking your entrance and you reached down to undo the fastening of his pants, pulling the waistband down just enough to free his throbbing cock.

Sungjin hissed when you grabbed his cock and spread the leaking precum over his tip. “Shit-”

You bobbed your hand up and down his length until you felt being laid down on the mattress, your boyfriend hovering over you.

He bucked his hips lightly to your touch and buried his head on your shoulders, to suppress his sinful moans.

You felt his body shake and he peeled himself off of you. “Baby, stop.”

Sungjin lifted his body and kissed the side of your head before reaching out to remove your soaked panties. He kissed and occasionally nipped the inside of your thighs before nudging the tip of his nose along your slit.

“Fuck, Sungjin stop tea—” you shrieked and were cut short when he licked a stip between your folds. Your hands immediately found purchase at his hair, tugging at it every time he licked your core and sucked on your clit.

“Language, baby,” he groaned hoarsely before inserting a finger into you. He continued his ministrations to your core, adding a second and third finger shortly after. “Need to stretch you up a bit more, baby. Damn, you got tighter without my cock deep inside you huh.”

You tried to stop Sungjin’s hands when you felt your release nearing. But he didn’t budge. He even picked up the pace and encouraged you to let go.

“Are you cumming, baby?”

You bit your bottom lip and nodded, unable to stitch words at the pleasure of having him between your thighs again.

“Words, baby. Use your words. Did you miss this? My hands and cock working on your pussy?”

“Sungjin—fuck, yes, I missed you and your cock inside me” you breathed and struggled to look him in the eye. “I missed you fucking me after classes.”

The memories of Sungjin fucking you in the most boring places brought you easily over the edge. In a few seconds, you are shaking uncontrollably and you felt your juices streaming out of your core deliciously.

Sungjin smirked as he leered at your pussy leaking out of cum. His hands didn’t cease its movements and continued to fuck you with his hands. Your whole body is almost quivering.

When he sensed you’re nearing your second orgasm, he grabbed his cock and positioned himself at your entrance. He coated himself with your juices before slowly pushing inside of you.

You stiffen for a short moment, trying to adjust to his size, and then slightly rolled your hips.

“I love you,” Sungjin whispered against your ear. “I love you, Y/N,” he repeated, this time against your lips, before bottoming out and sheathing himself inside you again.

You cried out in pleasure as he started to thrust into you harder and chased your orgasm.

Sungjin remained sheathed inside you even after shooting his load, his cock warming itself pretty nicely inside your pussy as he cuddled you on the bed.

Neither of you attempted to strike a conversation. You were not sure about him but the activity rendered you rather tired. A sound sleep while being cuddled would be much appreciated at that moment. Until you heard Sungjin sigh loudly. You looked over at him and saw his eyes being distant again.

“You have that look again,” you started slowly. You propped yourself in one arm, looked at him with adoration, and stroke his cheek. “Babe, you don’t have to tell me everything all at once. But please, don’t push me away. I love you and it’s hard for me to see you suffer on your own.”

He was fazed by the sadness in your voice. How could he ever deserve a girl like you? The last thing he wanted is to disappoint and burden you with his own problems and he thought at first he’s been doing a great job with it.  

Sungjin took a deep breath. He reached for your hand on his cheek and kissed it, bringing your torso against his once again. All the major problems that took the most space in his mind were spilled. He told you the pressure his family is bestowing upon him with the graduation and board exams around the corner and also their expectations for him to continue the business his father started.

You listened to his troubles. At that moment you knew you just needed to understand him, to try to perceive things in his shoes.

Sungjin isn’t the type of person who openly shares every little trouble he has as he’s afraid to burden other people. He believes everyone already has problems of their own and own demons to fight and dumping his worries could just add to that. But, oddly enough, hearing himself talk about it kind of helped to look at the situation again and evaluate his feelings and actions. As he continued to tell you his worries, he realized that it isn’t so bad to share the burden with your most trusted person.

[fishybehavior]

His biggest heist [Part 1]

Borg tower; the pinnacle of technology, security, and the future. Filled with information and innovation. It was one of the symbols of New Ninjago City and has been propped up as unbreakable.

So Jay decided to break in.

And that wasn’t even the best bit, he was getting paid to do it too.

Eight hundred feet in the air, on a window washer lift making it go as high as it could go. It was 10 pm, and Borg industries were having its annual gala. Security was lax so high up, everyone focusing on the first dozen floors, anything about 50 should be bare of breathing guards. But then again, Borg Industries was known for unconventional guards. But that's where Jay’s secret weapon came into play.

“How’s the hacking going Zane?” Jay spoke into his mouthpiece, the familiar metallic voice on the other end huffing in reply.

“No, you’re still out of range. They work on a short-ranged signal for a reason.”

“Well sorry princess, I thought it’d be better now we’re halfway up this stupidly tall building.” He muttered as the lift would go any higher. They were hovering at about floor 55, and he needed to still get up another 20 or so floors. “Welp, I guess I’m just climbing the rest.” He sighed as he unclipped his harness rope from the lift, messing with the controls for his harness.

“What! Your free climbing? The wind speeds are 40mph, you’ll be blown off!”

Jay was messing with the new features he added to his gauntlets. “Don’t worry, I’ve been working on a feature that allows me to stick to glass with electro-static leftover from the residual power.”

“First, you can't just confuse me with technical language like everyone else to get me to stop talking. I know what you're saying, and secondly, that feature isn’t field-tested. You don't know how well it works in real-world conditions!”

“Well, I guess it's time to test them then!” He cheered as he stuck his hand on the glass, it stuck and he tested it before he put his foot out and allowed it to stick. Soon he was completely off the lift, attached to the glass window like gum. Laughing gleefully he started to climb up the wall.

He could still hear Zane mumbling, “I swear you have a death wish.”

Jay elected to ignore the comment, “Tell me when you're in range.” He continued to climb about 10 stories, quickly becoming used to his new life as a tree frog as he methodically climbed the architecture.

“You're in range,” Zane quipped, and Jay stopped, letting his partner take over for the next bit. Zane had to hack in the short wave connection of the android guards. Allowing him to enter without alerting them and without tipping off Borg something was off with his toys.

“Do you have it, Zane?” Jay questioned, he didn’t like sitting here like a duck. Ducks got spotted and fed bread, and he wasn’t hungry.

“Finished,” The AI boasted, “Those androids are ridiculously simple once I cracked the firewall. Their visual and audio inputs are on a loop, so as long as you don't touch them they won't know you're there.” Jay could practically hear him smile. Zane may not always like his criminal behavior, but he couldn’t deny that this was so much more fun than playing go-fish in his dorm.

Jay finally got to his floor, giving Zane a minute to disable the alarm, he cut through the two-inch-thick glass with his laser cutter. Pushing in quietly he stepped into a dim hallway, getting surprised as an android guard walked up to him. He had to step back, flatting himself to the wall so it wouldn’t touch him. But it walked by, disappearing into a door right next to him. Opening the door with its identification code.

Jay let it walk in and before the door could close he slipped followed after it. Walking into another dim hallway with three doors on the end, “Ok Zane, I should be close, can you get me through the doors?” All the doors needed an id to get through, but he couldn’t follow the same android, it was going through the left door and he had to go right.

“Already ahead of you. Do you need me to tell you where to go too? How about what we’re looking for too,” He asked slightly annoyed.

“Haha. You’re very funny.” Jay quipped back, going to the right door to enter. He knew that Zane hated doing all the work, but this wasn’t a simple museum where the most he needed was noticed when the police called. The security here was tight, and the only way he could do it is if he stayed unnoticed. And he couldn’t hack everything as quickly or as unnoticed as Zane could. And being quick was the key to getting in and out without being caught.

Zane provided a code, and Jay projected it onto the scanner beside the door, opening it and Jay slid through. Jay continued to sneak throughout the seemingly endless hallways, avoiding the android guards that stood by some doors, and others that walked up and down the hallway. Staying as far from them as he could, he trusted Zane’s hacking, but things could always go wrong. The deeper he got into the building, the dimmer the hallways became, telling Jay that the security here was taking more electricity than previous. Whenever someone would come here legally they would turn on the aux lights, but he wasn't being very legal at the moment. Not that it bothered him. His bionic eye was equipped with ocular adjustments more sensitive than his natural eyes, making the dimness seem brighter than it was.

Jay opened one more door and saw the door he was searching for, it looked like all the others, but it had android guards on either side. Approaching the machines he looked at the door, it opened just like all the others, with a scanner on the right side right behind the android. It gave him about four inches to maneuver, but that should be just enough. Taking a deep breath he slid his arm between the two, and with a flick, he activated the projector for the code right onto the scanner. The door giving a slight hiss as it opened, Jay froze waiting for the guards to attack him. But they didn’t even twitch as the door opened, sighing he pulled his arm back and walked in. The door shut behind him and lights flicked on automatically. Bathing the small room in harsh light. Hissing at the sudden brightness Jay tried to take in what he was seeing.

There was only one thing in the room. A red mask with white markings swirling about the face. The mouth was closed with big teeth prodding from the mouth. The eye holes were rimmed in black as the mask's impressive eyebrows squinted in discontentment. The mask was in a glass case, and there were four more guards at each corner of the display case.

"Ok Zane, what am I looking at?"

"A mask in a display case," Zane answered simply, and he could hear him chuckling as Jay facepalmed at his response. "I know I know." Zane chortled as he looked at the alarms and electronic triggers around the room. "By opening the door with a legal code, the room sensors were disengaged, but the androids are directly linked to the case. If it's opened without authentication, they will either attack you or attempt to destroy the mask."

Jay stepped closer to the mask, looking for any physical triggers too, "Ok, so what's the authentication key?"

He heard Zane hum as he tried to answer his question, "A vocal command it seems. A person who matches the vocal key and a certain phrase is needed, but I can't decipher what the phrase is." He huffed in frustration.

"Here show me. I'll help." And the code appeared on his gauntlets projector. The two looked at the code, slowly decoding what meant what. Finally, they were able to get a phrase, "Release alarm on case 198-021, by the authority of Cyrus Borg." Jay read aloud, chuckling at the unoriginal phrase. "Could you construct a synthesizer in Borg's voice?"

"I can certainly try, but it may take some time."

"How long?"

"At least ten minutes."

"Can you do it in seven, we don't have the luxury of time."

"I'm working as fast as I can, but you may need to try and find another way if you can't wait," Zane said, returning to work on the synthesizer.

Jay huffed, as he studied the case and the androids. He knew the blueprints of robots well, he could just short-circuit them. But he couldn't do all four at once. And anyway, once he took one out, every android not assigned to a position would converge on him. Not a welcome outcome, so he either had to get the voice key or find a way to keep the alarm system from triggering. But that was going to be tricky because it was a physical trigger on the glass case, either for pressure or an electrical current. If you disrupted it, the alarm would go off. Maybe he could cut into the glass itself? Take out the top and pull out the mask? He'd have to make sure that the mask itself wasn't on a pressure plate as well, but it would be a good option.

"Zane, how's the key going?"

"Poorly, I'm able to get the rest of the phrase, but the different pronunciation possibilities for 198-021 make it nye impossible to make a perfect key with no reference."

"Well, what you have now, will it work?" Jay questioned

"I'm uncertain. I don't know if the phrase needs to be verbatim to work. If it's not right, we'll set off the alarms." Zane hummed in thought, calculating the risk that going through with the vocal key would take.

"It's too much of a risk, we should try to break into the case itself. Zane is the mask on a pressure plate?" Jay questioned the AI, and he heard him hum in thought as he looked through the available resources.

"I can't tell for certain. There are two triggers, but I can't tell if one is for the mask, or if they're both for the case."

"No matter which one we choose, we risk an alarm. I'm going to try and cut into the top. Zane be at the ready. If the alarm does go off, I need you to deactivate the four androids here and the two at the door." Jay said, he knew that there wasn't a kill switch that would work for all the androids, needing to be turned off individually. But if he was going to get out without being caught, he had to depend on Zane's ability for multitasking and speed. Or he'd be a fish in a barrel.

"Of course," Zane hummed, setting up the code to try and find the kill switch. Once he activated it Borg would be notified that something was wrong and the other androids would converge on their location. Which drastically cut their chances of escape. Too much for Zane's comfort. "Ready when you are." He stated ready to kill the androids if needed.

Jay rolled his shoulders, loosening the stress that's been building for the last half an hour. He knew he only had about 10-20 more minutes before something happened. Either someone noticed the androids were on loop or would spot him on camera. He had to act now or get caught. Taking a deep breath he adjusted his laser for the thickness and type of glass he was cutting.

"Here we go," he breathed as he began to cut.

[thebibliomancer]

Essential Avengers: Avengers #234: The Witch’s Tale!

August, 1983

“Seasons of the Witch!”

If Wanda offers you a free Halloween mask, politely tell her no thanks.

A lot going on in this cover. Because this is one of those issues that summarizes a character’s continuity because wikipedia doesn’t exist yet and back issues aren’t super easy to get. 

Last time: There was an Avengers/Fantastic Four sorta crossover where Annihilus tried to blow up the universe. The primary fallout of that is that Vision walked into a null-field and then collapsed. He’s basically in a robot-coma recovering.

This time: the Avengers bring Vision home in a tube.

It looks like the kind of coffin you shoot into space but it’s not. It’s just a life-support capsule that looks like a space coffin.

Now though it sucks that Vision is in a robot coma, this does mean that he and Wanda are back involved with the book again. We briefly checked in with them during the Trial of Yellowjacket arc.

But we’ve been pretty short of Scarlet Witch and Vision since #211 when they left the team to try to have a go at a regular life. I’ll summarize in brief how that’s been at the appropriate time. Point being, that’s twenty some issues with a very low amount of my second favorite comic couple.

She-Hulk and Thor carry the capsule into the basement of Avengers Mansion because that’s where their medical center is. The basement. Of course. Why wouldn’t you put your medical center in the basement. Best place for it.

Wanda thanks Wasp for inviting her (and Vision) to stay at the Mansion when they could have stayed at the Baxter Building.

Wasp: “Nonsense! That place was left in a mess by Annihilus! Besides, the Avengers take care of their own!”

(Tangentially, the Avengers have always been more of a family to Wanda than anyone else aside from Django and Marya Maximoff who raised her and Pietro. The Avengers are Wanda’s family basically.)

Also, it’s not said anywhere but I feel like probably Reed Richards never did do that procedure that was supposed to help Vision recover more quickly as distracted as he was by Franklin’s injuries.

While Wanda hovers (metaphorically) around Vision’s tube, Wasp reflects on how hard this is hitting her.

Wasp: “She and the Vision were such a strange match, but they’ve been so devoted to each other their marriage worked -- !”

Oof, that bold hurts, Jan.

Wanda asks for some time alone with her husband so the Avengers leave the basement level medical center, all thinking thoughts as often happens.

Wasp feels guilty because she’s the one that called Wanda and Vision into action but justifies that they were needed. Even though they didn’t really accomplish much.... Kinda makes it worse.

Captain America asks Thor off to have a private chat.

Captain Marvel laments that they couldn’t destroy the field before Vision was injured. And Starfox muses about the sensitivity he senses from Captain Marvel.

Kinda wondering if Stern is trying to set up a love triangle between Starfox, Captain Marvel, and She-Hulk.

Speaking of She-Hulk.

She-Hulk: Any of us could’ve wound up in a tube... or on a slab. But that’s the risk we have to take!

A very typically She-Hulk of this era kind of thought. She’s very direct.

Wasp calls a rain-check on apartment hunting. Which is what she and She-Hulk were doing before the whole invisible dome thing.

And She-Hulk finds other ways to occupy her time.

She-Hulk: “Hey, Starfox! You have any plans for tonight?”

Starfox: “Well, I’d considered checking out the local sights, but if you have a better offer -- !”

She-Hulk: “Spaceman, I can show you some things you won’t believe!”

She’s very direct.

Over at Captain America and Thor’s private conversation, Captain America catches Thor up on the happenings re: Iron Man, i.e. Tony Stark.

Cap(tain America): “It’s Iron Man, Thor... the Wasp and I paid him a visit to find out why he’d resigned from the Avengers. I... don’t quite know how to say this, but... Tony Stark hasn’t just left the Avengers! He’s given up his identity as Iron Man... turned his armor over to another man!”

Thor: “Eh? ‘Tis most passing strange!”

Cap: “That’s not the only thing that’s ‘most passing strange!’ When we talked to him, Stark was so drunk, I’m surprised he was able to stand up! And when I suggested that he’d had too much to drink, he ordered Jan and me out of his apartment!”

Turns out that off-panel at some point, Tony confided his problems with alcoholism to Thor.

Another example of the close relationship that Thor and Iron Man used to have and lamentably don’t seem to have anymore.

Cap even says that Thor has known Tony longer than the rest of the Avengers. While Wasp has been on the team just as long as Thor has, yeah, Thor has known the man in Iron Man longer.

So Cap asks Thor to try to talk to Tony because maybe he could get through to him.

Thor: “I could try, Captain! But if he rejected your advice, while under the influence, I fear for my ability to do better!”

Cap: “What about your mortal identity? Maybe if you approached him as Dr. Don Blake... man to man...”

Thor: “Mayhap. I shall give this thought.”

Thor then hammer-whirl flies off, leaving Cap to think about whether there’s anything additional that he could do, maybe in Iron Man #172, which was on sale at the same time.

Since this issue is otherwise going to be a lot of recapping Scarlet Witch’s entire life, why not pop into another book briefly for some additional content?

I’m the boss and I’ll allow it.

So over in Iron Man in general and issue #172 specifically, Tony Stark is on hard times. We know about the alcoholism and Rhodey taking over as Iron Man. But a man called Obadiah Stane is also attempting an incredibly hostile takeover of Stark International. He’s bought up all the company’s debt (and it has a lot), he has a bunch of civil suits pending against the company, and he’s secretly been the architect behind Tony Stark’s imploding life. That and Tony himself. Takes two to implode.

The last hope Stark Int. has is a writ that will force Stane to back off for a week or two. It’s not a lot but it’ll be some breathing room. Only problem is that it needs Tony Stark’s notarized signature before 5 PM and they kinda lost track of him after he broke into a museum to put on some knight armor and had to be bailed out of jail.

Rhodey decides to call Captain America for help and that’s how we get the asterisk indicating that you should check out Iron Man #172.

Cap does find Tony but unfortunately, Tony slips away in the confusion when an old Iron Man foe called Firebrand (unfortunately not a gargoyle) sets the hotel on fire because he’s just incredibly pissed off at the idea of Tony Stark.

Cap’s less-nice confrontation with Tony about his drinking is decent drama (but possibly not the right tactic to take) though so have some of that.

Anyway. Back to Avengers.

Meanwhile, over on Long Island and at the Cross Technological Enterprises building, industrial espionage gets aggressive as some men in jumpsuits and balaclavas climb the building to sneak in.

One of them is worried because that Avenger guy Hawkeye is in charge of security but the boss is like pssh Hawkeye is a chump with a broken leg.

Then Hawkeye arrives on a hover scooter because insulting Hawkeye probably just summons him to prove you wrong. He has that kind of contrarian energy at times.

He shoots all of their guns out of their hands and pins them to the wall with arrows all before they can really do anything.

His leg may be broken but his arms aren’t. And those are the limbs that do archery.

Sure, his style is slightly harshed by having only one swashbuckler boot on but that still doesn’t stop him from shooting arrows.

A woman and a photographer show up instantly to take pictures of Hawkeye’s cool victory. Apparently the woman is Sheila Danning and she says that she’s in charge of PR for Cross Technological Enterprises.

People showing up to take pictures of how cool he is makes Hawkeye feel very appreciated so he happily poses for some pictures with the captured intruders.

I feel like this is going to end up related to the Hawkeye solo miniseries that’s published around this time. The events of the miniseries cost Hawkeye his hearing but gain him a wife. So we’ll call it a net positive for Clint.

I’ll possibly summarize the relevant parts of the series when it becomes relevant to Avengers, which I’m sure it will.

Several hours later, back over at Avengers Mansion, She-Hulk wakes up after a night with Starfox.

So let’s discuss a thing.

In a later She-Hulk series, the moral iffyness of Starfox’s ability to shoot pleasure at people’s brains and make them become infatuated with him is explored. In a legal sense. As in, Starfox gets put on trial for sexual assault and accused of using his powers to seduce people.

The question is raised whether he had ever used his powers to seduce She-Hulk in regards to them getting together like this in Avengers. And when he won’t give her a straight answer, she beats the shit out of him.

Eventually, the case goes all the way up to the Living Tribunal, the cosmic judge of all realities because of course there’s one of those, and a mind probe proves that Starfox did not use his abilities to influence She-Hulk’s decision to have sex with him.

They’re both just horny people.

Anyway, Starfox and She-Hulk get on first name non-codename basis with each other. Then Starfox takes off to go explore New York, but he and She-Hulk do make plans to get together again in the evening.

She-Hulk’s post-implied-coitus giddiness is rained on when she learns that Wanda hasn’t slept at all and has spent the whole night at Vision’s side.

So now its time for She-Hulk brand very direct friendship.

She tells Jarvis to go make breakfast and she’ll deal with Wanda.

As we saw in and about the Trial of Yellowjacket, She-Hulk doesn’t really beat around the bush.

So when Wanda says she’d rather stay at Vision’s side rather than get breakfast, She-Hulk grabs her and tries to physically drag her towards self-care.

She-Hulk: “Look, watching your hubby won’t make him get well any faster. You’re coming with me! You’ll feel a lot better with a little breakfast in you!”

It doesn’t go over well.

Wanda blasts She-Hulk away and now Jen and Wanda are angry at each other and Wasp arrived just in time to play baffled mediator.

She-Hulk: “I hope you have a good dentist, Red!”

Wasp: “Jennifer!”

She-Hulk: “She started it, Wasp! I was just showing her some hospitality, and she sent me flying with her crummy hex bolts!”

Scarlet Witch: “What?! You physically pull me from my husband’s side, and you call that hospitality?!?”

Wasp: “Girls, girls! We’re all friends here! I know how upset you must be, Wanda, but you mustn't let worry get the better of you! I think we all need a spot of breakfast! Please join me, Wanda. The She-Hulk will relieve you at watching over the Vision... we all will!”

She-Hulk: “That’s what I was trying to tell her!”

Jen’s heart was in the right place but she lacks much in the way of tact?

Anyway, Wasp and Wanda set up in the library and Jarvis brings breakfast pastries to them, though Wanda refuses any.

Free breakfast aggros Captain Marvel and now she’s here too. That and She-Hulk trying to make up through a proxy.

Captain Marvel: “A little bird told me that you were serving your continental special, and I just couldn’t stay away!”

Wasp: “A little bird, C.M.?”

Captain Marvel, whispering: “Well, a big bird! She-Hulk radioed me that the Scarlet Witch was still a little down, and suggested that I might be of help, cheering her up!”

You have a good heart, Jen-Hulk.

Also, Monica just beams right in through the library window as a sunbeam before forming back into her human shape. And that’s delightful. But would be startling. Jarvis is startled. He’s seen it all but all keeps expanding.

Monica and Wanda briefly bond over both speaking French when Monica praises that Jarvis’ pastries rival the best of the French Quarter. Jan is a bit lost because she doesn’t know any French but Monica and Wanda were just very excited because they don’t get to French very often. The language.

AND with the ice broken, Monica smoothly shifts topics over to asking Wanda about herself.

Captain Marvel: “You know, there’s so much I’d like to ask you. I’ve read all about you in the files, of course -- but they’re so impersonal. You’ve led such a fascinating life.”

Scarlet Witch: “Fascinating? I suppose... but I was too young to appreciate some of the more fantastic moments.”

AND THEN WANDA LEGIT, NO FURTHER PROMPTING, STARTS NARRATING HER WHOLE LIFE STARTING FROM BIRTH.

DAMN WANDA, exposition under pressure?

So Wanda tells Monica about how she was born in WUNDAGORE, a Balkan mountain in Transia with a super-advanced city built on it. The High Evolutionary was making furries for reasons which escape me but it explains why a cow-woman answered the door when Magda, supposedly Wanda’s mom although that has changed, came knocking on the door.

She was double pregnant and on the run from a husband who had developed terrible problems and an attitude problem.

The cow-woman Bova, invited Magda into the city and helped deliver her children Pietro and Wanda. And then Magda walked off into the snow to die, pulling a Padme-on-purpose-but-years-ahead-of-time by dying just after having twins.

Her thought process was that Mystery Husband would come looking for her but if he found her frozen in the snow, he wouldn’t find out that she’d had children? I dunno, this logic is a bit spurious.

I’m glad that Wanda’s current in the year 2021 real mom isn’t someone who walked off into the snow to die because it seemed like a good idea.

Showing what an awful idea this was, Magda left Wanda and Pietro in the care of Bova who had no idea what to do with two babies. So she took the matter to the High Evolutionary who also didn’t want to deal with it and decided to dump the babies on a childless Roma couple.

High Evolutionary: ‘DOES ANYBODY WANT SOME BABIES?’

Except the comic doesn’t say Roma, they say the g-slur. I don’t think Marvel ever stops doing that. Its a weird case where the portrayal is overall sympathetic but tinged with stereotypes and using a slur.

Shape up, Marvel.

I also notice that Wanda’s recap leaves out Fake Dad Robert Frank, the Whizzer.

The first time Wanda’s parentage was Totally Revealed For Real, it was revealed that not only Magda but Robert and Madeline Joyce Frank were hanging around Wundagore waiting to give birth.

I’ve already been into it before but originally it was just the Franks kids but the Whizzer whizzed off in grief when he learned his wife died in childbirth. Then when someone got it into their head to retcon otherwise, Magda was at Wundagore and gave birth to twins and then the High Evolutionary had Bova try to give the kids to Robert but he ran off in his grief so shrugged and passed them off to Django and Marya Maximoff AKA the real parents even if not biological.

To editorialize, the Maximoffs actually raised Wanda and Pietro so no matter what, I’ll always consider them the twins’ real parents.

Anyway, the Franks aren’t part of this retelling. Which is funny because for a while Wanda thought the Whizzer was their dad and treated him like one and now she’s dumped him like raw meat for ease of retelling. Tsk tsk.

So, Wanda and Pietro lived a good life and “better parents could hardly have been found.” Then when adolescence happened, Pietro suddenly could run really fast and Wanda “discovered that strange, unpredictable things would happen if I was in a certain frame of mind and gestured in a particular way.”

That’s a pretty specific mutant power. And she relates that she kept causing accidents by gesturing in the particular way while in a certain frame of mind, it’s like, Wanda, don’t gesture that way? Get mittens or tie your fingers together. Its not hard.

Your powers are so specific!

Stereotypes happen and an angry mob burns down the Maximoffs’ camp.

Pietro ran Wanda to safety and the shock was so great that they got AMNESIA.

Marya, I think, died but Django survived and went a little mad with grief, assuming he lost his wife and kids.

For a couple years, Wanda and Pietro just kicked it around Eastern Europe, Pietro using his superspeed to catch game. Things were going okay but not great up until the time that Wanda wandered into a village and made the fuck-things-up gesture and whoops fucked things up.

I’m telling you, Wanda, mittens.

Anyway, she set a house on fire, WITH HER MIND, and now there’s an angry mob after her assuming that she’s a witch.

As sometimes happens in Marvel Eastern Europe.

The mob chased Wanda to camp where Pietro lost his shit and superspeed tried to beat up a mob but wound up getting pinned down and beaten.

Then Magneto showed up and yanked all the crude farming implements away and told the mob to gtfo.

Magneto: “Come no further, homo sapiens! The two whom you attack are under the protection of Magneto!”

An idiot: “With power such as his, he can only be Satan himself!”

An idiot who has the right idea: “Run! Run for your lives!”

Wanda thanks Magneto for the save and he demands “Let neither of you ever forget what you owe me... ever!”

Cool. Cool cool cool.

Wanda: “He took us in... fed and clothed us... but never did he show us any human kindness. We were supposed to be above that, he said... we were mutants, and under his tutelage, we became Quicksilver and the Scarlet Witch!”

What a dick.

Anyway, Scarlet Witch and Quicksilver were forced to join Magneto and his other agents Toad and Mastermind.

Magneto’s Brotherhood clashed with the X-Men multiple times. And then the Stranger just sorta yoinked Magneto into space.

Early X-Men is a bafflement to me.

Wanda: “Our debt had been repaid to Magneto many times over. We were beholden to him no longer... We were free. And... we were alone. We had just begun to realize the potential of our mutant powers, but we did not know how best to use them. Cut off from Magneto’s cruel exploitation, we didn’t know what to do. I don’t know what would have become of us, had we not been accepted as Avengers! The Avengers gave purpose to our lives, gave us something to be part of.”

Anyway, being on the Avengers meant dangers and foes to fight but it also meant allies, friends, and ROBOT BOYFRIENDS.

Wanda: “Were it not for the Avengers, I might never have met the Vision! He was the product of a laboratory -- and many thought him to be inhumanely cold -- but I grew to love the warm, feeling inner man.”

Of course, if you tell Vision he has feelings he gets mad and insists NUH UH.

And dating Vision pissed off Quicksilver who basically disowned Wanda for a while.

But who gives a fuck what Pietro says, Wanda also learned WITCHCRAFT and (although not explicitly mentioned) how to summon METEORS TO SMASH HER FOES.

And she got married in a double ceremony where the other bride married a tree! That tree part doesn’t get mentioned.

After this, Wanda and Vision went on a short honeymoon but found that the hashtag Avengers life kept them so busy that they didn’t have a lot of time to themselves.

Then Real Dad Django Maximoff showed up and Wanda and Pietro went with him to Transia to learn their backstory.

Annnnnd Wanda got possessed by Chthon. Won’t be the first time ha ha.

Thankfully, the Avengers managed to do a care bear stare to unpossess her. Oh, and Django died. A misstep if you ask me. There was too much character potential to just kill him off after one arc.

Alas, alas.

Anyway, the recap skips over a whole bunch of stuff and doesn’t mention Moondragon’s role but we get to the point where Wanda and Vision quit the Avengers.

Wanda: “When the Vision and I were finally reunited, our thoughts began to turn inward. Our life with the Avengers was fulfilling, but apart from our careers, we had no real private life of our own. Would society accept us on our own, away from Avengers Mansion? We didn’t know -- but we had to at least try to find out. Taking our accrued Avengers salaries, we bought a modest little home in Leonia, New Jersey.”

So a brief recap of their adventures in the first Vision and Scarlet Witch miniseries.

In the first issue, Captain America’s Halloween housewarming gift of a cursed book winds up being cursed and contains Samhain. When Wanda didn’t immediately free him, he got angry and turned some trick or treaters into monster versions of their costumes to attack Vision while Samhain attacked Wanda. She manages to set the cursed tome on fire, ending Samhain’s power. FOR NOW. Then Not-Actually-Their-Father-But-Doesn’t-Know-It-Yet the Whizzer shows up.

In issue two, the Whizzer is looking for Wanda’s help in regaining custody of his son Nuklo the Nuclear Man. With their help, Whizzer manages to get the court to agree to release Nuklo to his custody. But the lead doctor managing Nuklo is secretly ISBISA! ... Y’know, the Whizzer’s old foe from his All-Winner’s Squad days? No? Okay, well he also masterminded the nuclear ‘accident’ that led to Nuklo’s birth in the first place. And now he’s back to finish the job with radiation siphoned from Nuklo. In anger at Wanda being drawn into Golden Age drama, Vision reveals that Wanda isn’t the Whizzer’s kid but it little matters because Whizzer has a massive heart attack and dies. Nuklo helps defeat Isbisa and both of them are drained of atomic power leaving them human. Oh and Vision’s arm gets melted off. That’s kinda important.

In issue three, Vision is in a robot coma and he needs an energy donation from Wonder Man, his brain brother, to recover. Comic books! Vision has a meaning laden coma dream where Ultron screams at him a lot. Grim Reaper attacks and tries to kill Vision and Wonder Man while they’re incapacitated because he has one character beat and its that. But Vision manages to subdue him.

In issue four, is the pertinent one for this issue.

I’m going to say, I think the second Vision and Scarlet Witch series is better. This was a series of loosely related mishaps. The second volume does more with Vision and Scarlet Witch living in suburbia as a concept.

Anyway, in the fourth issue and in this Avengers recap of Wanda’s entire life, after Vision lost his arm, he and Wanda went up to Attilan to get it replaced. Because the Inhumans can casually just build him a new arm that works with his powers.

And people say the Inhumans aren’t good for anything.

While on the moon, Wanda and Vision decide to visit with Pietro and Crystal and their new daughter Luna. Pietro was even not a dick to Vision. It was a nice moment until Magneto barged in and started a fight by insisting he wasn’t here to fight while trapping everyone inside the building. Also, he threatened Bova to get information on who his kids were and frankly, that’s unforgivable. Bova is an angel. A cow angel.

They fight fight fight and then the fight is ended when Luna cries and Magneto realizes he’s doing a big superhero/supervillain fight in the same room as a fragile child and realizes ‘wow maybe i’m the dick here.’

Now the Vision and Scarlet Witch series ends with the internal-reveal that MAGNETO is the father (for now) of Wanda and Pietro. Magneto asking them to accept him as such. And on a confused moment of ‘shit what now.’

The Avengers issue picks up on that and finishes out the scene.

While Wanda is too stunned to know what to say, Pietro has some choice words.

He snatches his daughter away from Magneto and tells him fuck off, you’re no father to me.

Magneto’s argument is ‘hey genetics is the only thing that matters you’re my son like it or not.’

Pietro’s counter argument is ‘nuh uh’ and that Django Maximoff is the only man he calls father. And Wanda agrees.

Its good to see some Django respect.

Magneto tells them they’ll see the error of their ways and flies off.

Which is the wrong tack to take to prove that you’ve changed and are ready to get some good dadding in and won’t kill your granddaughter for being a human.

He’s super bad at this.

After that, Wanda and Vision went home to New Jersey and just stayed at home for a while, Wanda was so horrified by the reveal.

Wanda: “Even now, I can hardly begin to express the horror, the shame! It’s as if I suddenly discovered Hitler lurking in my family tree! Part of me wishes that he is really sincere about tempering his hatred for non-mutant humans. But even if he was telling the truth, that can never excuse his past crimes... Nothing can!”

Its really surprising how ready people are in-universe to compare Magneto to Hitler. From Wanda to Cap to Xorn.

Wasp: “Wanda... you mustn’t torture yourself this way! Magneto has no claim on you, and you’re certainly not responsible for him! I know it must be tough, but you can’t let him ruin the rest of your life!”

These are helpful things to tell Wanda to calm her down.

Less helpful is when Wasp speculates that hey maybe it was okay not to believe Magneto when he said he’s changed because maybe he’ll become worse! Maybe his newfound tolerance of humanity will lead him to try to save humanity from itself rather than wipe it out. In reference to how Moondragon tried to do that on that planet we never heard from again.

Wanda: “Heaven help us, if such a thought occurs to Magneto!”

I’m pretty sure he’s going to be too busy in the near future trying to be teacher to the most death-prone idiots this side of Westchester. And then after that when he decides to be evil again, he’s going to do some nonsense with Asteroid M. But I don’t think he ever hits the ‘save humanity from itself’ point.

Anyway.

Wasp and Captain Marvel reassure Wanda that if Magneto Strikes Again the Avengers will be with her!

The following day, Wanda returns to Leonia, New Jersey to put together a suitcase of stuff since she’s going to be staying at Avengers Mansion for a while.

Wanda: “Jan was nice enough to offer me a few of her things, but they’re all too small for my figure. And that robe the She-Hulk lent me last night fit like a tent!”

Wasp and Scarlet Witch usually look the same size and shape but that’s important canon body shape information for someone, I guess. If they wanted to draw Avengers But Not All The Same Paper Dolls character designs.

Anyway, the issue really ends with Dr Strange showing up to pull Wanda into a crossover with his own book in Doctor Strange #60.

Ergh. This era sure has a lot of stuff going off on the sides.

I’ll synopsize Scarlet Witch’s time in Doctor Strange’s book if it becomes necessary but I’ve already looked at five non-Avengers issue for this post and am probably going to have to cover the Hawkeye series in brief too when it intersects with Avengers.

Follow @essential-avengers​ for grudging contextualization of everything that’s happening in Avengers, when I feel like it. Like and reblog if you liked.

[pearlsephoni]

When Immortal Meets Ineffable

Can also be read on AO3 

Rating: G 

Fandoms: Good Omens, The Old Guard

Pairings: Joe/Nicky, Aziraphale/Crowley (ofc)

Summary: Nicky's love for books has introduced him to many wonders, but he never anticipated meeting a pair of men whose existence seems just as impossible as his own. Or: a gay, immortal couple walks into an old bookshop owned by a gay, angel/demon couple. 

A/N:  The sign on Aziraphale's bookshop door is real, I copied the text from here lol And I owe my life to this 3D recreation of the shop Also this is my first time attempting to publish a fic on here, so pardon any formatting weirdness. More author’s notes can be found on the AO3 page!

Immortality was exhausting. It was impossible to build a normal life and settle down without sparking suspicion, so no single place could be “home” for very long. They couldn’t build a family, or climb the ladder of a career, or even build many friendships outside of their core group. 

Without the more…“standard” goals available to them, each member of the Old Guard ended up setting their own personal quests. Andy learned every language and style of martial arts she could. Booker challenged himself to try a new whiskey at every bar they visited. Joe was close to completing his goal of visiting every possible art museum in Eurasia, and would soon be expanding his scope to the world. And Nicky was determined to read as many of the world’s books as possible. 

But that wasn’t the only reason why he and Joe ended up seemingly visiting every bookshop in Europe. Living forever meant you had an infinite amount of time to lose and find things, and unfortunately for Nicky, his list of lost items included a near-first edition copy of Dante’s Divine Comedy. 

Books didn’t hold the same appeal for Joe, but he was still always willing to join his life partner in his visits to bookshops. What caused him chagrin wasn’t the visits, but the seemingly futile quest to find such a rare copy of a classic book. So when Nicky immediately tugged his jacket back on to head into London, Joe was a bit more reluctant than usual. 

“Hayati, wouldn’t we have better luck looking in museums for something so rare?” 

“I’m not just looking for La Commedia, my heart,” Nicky reminded him with a small smile. “I need a new book to read, too.” 

“Of course, and that’s why you are going to Waterstones and not another small, old bookshop?” That small smile turned guilty, and Joe couldn’t help letting out a sigh. “Do you have a destination in mind, or will you be wandering again?” 

“Why don’t you come with me and find out?” 

It wasn’t fair of Nicky to use his rare, broad smiles to win their smaller bickers, he knew it. But even a relationship with the love of his life wouldn’t have lasted almost a millennium without the occasional cheap trick. And it was so hard to feel guilty when his little tricks resulted in Joe’s hand warmly wrapped around his as they walked through London. 

As it so happened, he did have a destination in mind: A.Z. Fell & Co., an old bookshop that he remembered seeing on a random street corner in London. It had been closed the first (and last) time he tried to pay it a visit, all those years ago, and the sign on the door detailing the store hours simply raised more questions than answers for Nicky: 

Bookshop Opening Hours: 

I open the shop on most weekdays about 9:30 or perhaps 10am. While occasionally I open the shop as early as 8, I have been known not to open until 1, except on Tuesday. I tend to close about 3:30pm, or earlier if something needs tending to. However, I might occasionally keep the shop open until 8 or 9 at night, you never know when you might need some light reading. On days that I am not in, the shop will remain closed. On weekends, I will open the shop during normal hours unless I am elsewhere. Bank holidays will be treated in the usual fashion, with early closing on Wednesdays, or sometimes Fridays. (For Sundays see Tuesdays.) 

-A.Z. Fell, Bookseller 

“It’s a miracle this place is still running,” Joe muttered now, squinting at the wordy sign. Nicky was more interested in the sign hanging next to it, blissfully simpler and blessedly flipped to read, “Open.” The door was unlocked, and rang with a cheerful jingle as the immortals pushed it open. 

“Hello there! Welcome to A.Z. Fell & Co!” 

Nicky had barely been able to fully take in the warm, crowded space of the bookshop before his attention was pulled to a small, pale man dressed in a white suit. He seemingly appeared out of thin air from behind a small desk next to a bookshelf to the left. He had a bright, welcoming smile, and looked positively cherubic with his light blonde curls and rosy cheeks. “How may I help you today?” 

“Oh, I-” 

“We’re just looking,” Joe cut in, giving Nicky a gentle nudge. It was a reminder enough not to draw attention with their unusual search. “Wanted to see what we could find in such a unique shop.” 

“Lovely! Well, if you need any help at all, don’t hesitate to ask!” 

“Thank you,” Nicky replied with a smile, before wandering over to the cluster of bookshelves on their right, pulling Joe with him. 

He always lost track of time in bookshops. Even Joe, for all he insisted that Nicky was the reader, could get lost in the trinkets and random findings to be seen in an old shop. Maybe that was why, for all their battle-honed instincts and attention to detail, they didn’t realize someone else had entered the store until a new voice broke the comfortable silence.

“Angel!” 

“Ah, Crowley! What a pleasant surprise! What’re you doing here?” 

“Just wanted to see what you’ve got in stock.” 

“Really?”

“No, of course not, I was going to ask you to lunch.” 

“Oh! Well...that’s very kind of you, but I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“I can’t just close my shop in the middle of the day!”

“Yes you can, it’s your shop, if anyone can, it’s you.” 

“But I have customers! Like...like these young men!” 

Nicky, with a thousand years of life behind him, never thought of himself nor Joe as “young.” No matter how ageless they were, every year weighed on them, a burden that was only bearable because they didn’t have to weather it alone. So it didn’t occur to him that they were the “young men” the shop owner referred to, until the small, pale man suddenly appeared at his elbow. “Hello there! May I help you with anything?” 

A Genovese curse flew from his lips, followed by a grunt after Joe gently pinched him. Nicky smiled apologetically at the owner. “Sorry, ah...we’re alright, just looking.” 

“Yes, well…” The shop owner had a confused tilt to his eyebrows, at odds with his kind smile. “I’m so sorry, I don’t mean to be nosy, but...was that Old Genovese you were speaking?”

“You recognize it?” Nicky blurted out before he could stop himself. It had been centuries since either of the immortals had met someone else who knew the language. 

“Oh, I don’t know, it’s been a while since I’ve heard it.” A pink tint had risen to the small blonde’s cheeks, and his eyes now had a proud glint to them. “That’s very impressive, I didn’t think anyone spoke it anymore!”  

“No...neither did we.” He glanced at Joe, and was met with eyes that looked as disconcerted as he felt. 

“Well, I’ll leave you to it. Please let me know if you need help with anything!” The shop owner cheerfully strolled back to the counter, where his friend - Crowley, Nicky remembered - was staring at him and Joe with what felt like suspicion, even through his sunglasses. The redhead murmured something to the blonde that made the latter glance back at them with another smile, one that Nicky returned before he quietly urged Joe behind another bookshelf. 

“What the hell?” Joe hissed as soon as they were out of eyeline of the shop owner. 

“Language, tesoro mio.” 

Joe’s words switched to old Maghrebi, but remained just as confused and indignant. “Nico, we haven’t met anyone else who speaks Genovese in decades, maybe even centuries, if we don’t count linguists.”

“I know.” 

“So how does an owner of an old bookshop recognize it?” 

“We’ve seen some books that are much older than what we usually see in a shop like this. Maybe he recognized it from a book?” Even as he uttered the words, Nicky knew the explanation was pathetic. The look of disbelief he received from his lover let him know he wasn’t alone in thinking that. 

“He said it’s been a while since he’s heard it,” Joe reminded him. “And he recognized it as it was spoken, not written down somewhere.” 

“What are you trying to say? That he’s another immortal? One we somehow haven’t dreamed of in all this time?” 

“No, of course not...but…” Joe peered at the shop owner and his friend through a gap in the books. “Maybe there’s something different about him. Maybe immortals aren’t the only strange people in the world.” 

“Even if that were true, Yusuf, don’t you think we would have run into one before? Our abilities have been noticed before, by people who didn’t know what to look for. We of all people would have noticed if there were other powers out there.” 

“Unless they do as much as we do to stay out of notice.” 

It was Nicky’s turn to peer at the odd couple through the books, except this time, the redhead, Crowley, was looking right at him. Or at least, in their direction. He jerked away from the bookshelf and immediately moved deeper into the shop, tugging Joe with him. “We can talk with the others about it later. For now, let’s buy something and leave.”

“Still determined to find your book?”

Nicky offered a sweet smile to Joe, but didn’t bother hiding the mirth in his eyes. “Of course, my heart.” 

He didn’t end up finding the book he was looking for, much to his disappointment and Joe’s quiet amusement. But he did find an old, old Italian Bible that stirred distant memories of a classroom reciting verses, and that was enough to justify the visit. 

Satisfied in his choice, he moved towards the cashier register, only to be pulled up short by Joe. Nicky furrowed his brows in confusion - for someone who had been so reluctant to come, Joe suddenly seemed very keen on staying. He glanced back at him to find those dark eyes trained on the men behind the counter, one finger to his lips. Battle instincts kicked in, and he obediently trained his hearing to the low muttering coming from the other men. 

“Now really, Crowley, it’s simply not possible! Even if the Almighty really did send spies after us, I would at least recognize them. I’ve never seen those men in my life!” 

“Then maybe they’re demons. We’ve always had better corporeal disguises anyway. Would explain why we don’t recognize them.” 

“Have you ever seen demons behave like that with each other?” 

“Like what?” 

“Oh come now, you must have felt it. The energy around them is downright bursting with love! It’s just like…”

“...Angel, like what?”

“W-well...like two people in love. Nothing at all like you demons behave.”

“‘You demons’? Might I remind you of who saved the most valuable books here, Aziraphale?” 

It could’ve been just another argument between an old couple, especially an old married couple. There was no mistaking the love and pure affection that drenched every bickering phrase between them. But where Nicky had thought “Angel” was a sweet nickname, the casual use of terms like “demons” and “the Almighty” stirred a deeper sense of suspicion awake in him...and a rush of exhilaration. The sensible majority of his mind told him there was no earthly way he was staring at an angel and a demon. Even if angels and demons were real, they wouldn’t own an old bookshop, or walk around dressed like a dandy or an aged member of a rock band. 

But a small part of him, the part of him that had him wandering to a church on calm Sundays and uttering panicked prayers over Joe’s body in the middle of battle, felt a thrill at the idea that he was staring at proof. Proof that his centuries of faith, his short-lived livelihood in the church, wasn’t in vain. When he finally tore his eyes away from the odd couple to look at Joe, he was met with a small smile of understanding under an unsure gaze. Of course his love understood what was running through his mind, even without a single word uttered between them. 

Nicky took a steadying breath before he finally nodded at Joe, giving his hand a light squeeze. The shop owner and his...friend (partner?) were still bickering when they approached the cashier, and Nicky caught snippets of something about a church, a bomb, a satchel of books, before the argument was cut short by their arrival at the counter. 

“Ah, gentlemen, hello again! Did you find everything alright?” the small blonde man - Azira...phale..? - greeted them with a wide smile, while Crowley simply stared at them with an unnervingly straight face. His gaze prickled at Nicky’s awareness, despite his best attempts to ignore him and return Aziraphale’s smile. 

“I didn’t find the book I was looking for, but you have many rare gems here.” 

“Oh, I’m sorry you couldn’t find it!” 

“Don’t be. We have visited almost every bookshop in Europe in search of it,” Joe snorted with a grin. “At this point it’ll take a miracle to find it.” 

Aziraphale perked up at Joe’s response, and glanced eagerly at Crowley...who returned the blonde’s hopeful smile with a stony stare. A moment of silence passed before the redhead finally muttered, “Sounds like you won’t be finding it any time soon.” 

“No, but that’s alright. Seeing all these wonderful little shops offers a special kind of joy,” Nicky murmured with a reassuring smile to Aziraphale. “You should be proud of this shop. It’s a lovely refuge in this city.” 

The owner looked a bit crestfallen, but brightened at Nicky’s smile and words. “That’s very kind of you to say! I’ve had it for quite a while, so it’s turned into a home of sorts for me. I’m so glad it feels that way to my patrons as well!” 

Crowley’s attention was back on Nicky, and even though he couldn’t see the redhead’s eyes, he didn’t feel as burdened by the scrutiny anymore. It felt somehow softer now, more of a mild annoyance as the transaction was carried out. Crowley had been so quiet throughout their visit that when he suddenly spoke up, the surprise nearly made Nicky drop the small paper bag containing his book. “Just out of curiosity...what book were you looking for?” 

“Ah...an early edition of The Divine Comedy in the original Italian. First edition, if possible.” 

“...Dante’s Divine Comedy?” Crowley repeated, skepticism practically dripping off his words. “You’re looking for a first edition from the late Middle Ages?” 

Nicky could hear the rustle of Joe straightening just behind him, ready to defend his admittedly-futile quest. He shifted just enough to hook their pinkies together in reassurance while he shot a small smile at Crowley. “More just seeing if it’s possible to find outside of a museum.” 

Crowley nodded, but he still had a small frown of disbelief on his lips as he wandered towards the bookshelves at the very back of the shop. Aziraphale watched him meander away with wariness and hope lining his eyes, a combination of emotions that made Nicky wonder what kind of history the odd couple shared to prompt that kind of response. 

“Nicolo,” Joe murmured, pulling him out of his idle curiosity. “We should be going. Andy will wonder what happened to us.” 

“Right...yes, of course.” Nicky smiled again at Aziraphale, who suddenly looked panicked at their impending departure. “Thank you again.” 

“Oh, are you leaving so soon? A-are you sure I can’t help you find anything else? I have other first editions that might interest you!” 

“Really, it’s alright-” 

“Here we are.” Crowley was suddenly back at Aziraphale’s side, tossing a book onto the countertop with a carelessness that became alarming when Nicky realized what he was staring at: an old, worn volume, the cover made of what used to be red leather, but was now faded into a dull brown. Pressed into the leather, and traced with gold flakes, were the words “La Commedia.” Nicky reached out to brush the worn cover, gingerly lifting it to reveal the title page, where he could read the publication date: 1438. “This...this is…” 

“Not quite first edition, but about as good as you’re gonna get outside of a museum.” Crowley’s voice was casual, as if he had simply found any old book. But his smirk was smug, the gravity of his achievement definitely not lost on him, especially when Aziraphale was staring at him in what could only be described as adoration. 

“How...how did you find this?” 

“Call it a little miracle. How much does a little miracle cost, angel?” 

“Oh, ah...well, the best miracles are priceless, wouldn’t you say?” 

Nicky’s gaze jerked away from the book to stare at Aziraphale in shock. “No, I’m sorry, I cannot in good faith take this without paying you.” 

“No, really-”

“Please, I insist-” 

The shopowner was strangely reluctant to give Nicky a price, but with Joe’s help, they were able to settle on an amount. By the time they left the bookshop, it was even later than they had planned on leaving, but Nicky was in such a daze of disbelief over his luck, Joe ended up being the one to call Andy. 

“Boss, we know, we’re sorry, but you’ll never believe- no, trust me, even Booker will get excited over this. We’ll be there soon, it will be worth the wait, I promise.” He laughed as he tucked his phone away, shaking his head fondly at Nicky. “Well, my heart, I hope this find is worth Andy’s wrath. She is not happy with us.” 

“Yusuf...who were those men?” Nicky was staring numbly into the bag, still not believing the impossibly old book he held in his hands. 

“What do you mean?” 

He finally looked away from his new treasure to meet Joe’s eyes. “Do you think...that maybe…” 

“What? That an angel and demon helped us find a book?” 

“Stranger things have been true.” 

“Perhaps…” Joe’s arm wrapped around Nicky’s waist, tucking him against his body to drop a kiss to his temple. “Whatever those men were, they were kind. I hope the bookshop continues to do well.” 

“Mm...thank you for coming with me.” Nicky’s smile was full of adoration, and earned him another kiss, this time on his lips. 

“Of course, hayati. Anything for you.” 

“Anything? Well, there’s another book I’ve been looking for-” 

“Buuuuut Andy and Booker might not approve.” 

After almost 1000 years, he should have been able to better resist the effect of Joe’s cheeky smile. But after almost 1000 years, Nicky wasn’t in the habit of denying himself the little joys to be found in life, especially when they came from this impossible man. 

[propensityforthemature44]

Texas Triangle

For most of my forties, I worked as the assistant news director for CBS News, based in Manhattan.    The position came with a number of perks, most notably salary and benefits greater than I would have earned back in my hometown on California’s Central Coast, where my career began.  Within mere walking distance, so many of New York’s great museums, concert halls, restaurants, etc. were right there to explore during the little free time allowed by a demanding career.  It was a spectacular time, the dynamics of television journalism in the twenty-first century, always learning something new, and the great people with whom I worked, the latter being perhaps one of the greatest benefits.  This was especially true regarding one particular co-worker: legendary anchorman Bob Schieffer.

Arguably one of the more recognizable reporters of our time with an impressive CV, Bob commanded the respect of everyone at Black Rock, as the New York headquarters of CBS is known, not just because of his professional accomplishments, but because of how well he interacted with others.  Whether you were network top brass or a member of the cleaning crew, he treated everyone with a sincere compassion.  It was quite common on a Monday morning for Bob to pass through the halls and ask other employees how their kids performed at a piano recital or baseball game over the weekend.  His affable nature allowed for bridge-building and ease of relationship maintenance between management and on-air talent, which made my life easier. This was a sharp contrast to the environment during the time of his friend and predecessor, Dan Rather, with whom I was acquainted and got on well, but the mention of whose name still drew eye-rolls on the property.  Our professional dealings were so excellent, that they eventually led to a friendship outside of work.

After a couple of years on the job, Bob and I became such good friends, we were frequent guests at one another’s home for dinner parties.  In fact, I had even been to his home for Christmas Eve dinner on consecutive years.  His wife was a wonderful, gracious woman, and the same could be said for the rest of the family whom I had the opportunity to meet.  It was a friendship based on trust in a professional situation, but had blossomed into what I considered to be a very rewarding relationship.  

Due to our difference in ages, he was in many ways a role model given his life experiences.  Also, I found myself very attracted to him, and why not?  He was a handsome, well-dressed, intelligent mature gentleman with a wonderful personality, in other words, exactly my type.  The exceptions being that he was straight, a colleague, and a friend.

One spring, I had planned to return to California, where I kept a home for visits and eventual retirement, for a couple of weeks to attend a family wedding and also to take some time to wind down by travelling along the coast.  A few days before I was scheduled to head west, my boss summoned me to his office one afternoon.  He requested that I schedule some time to speak with Bob about a personnel matter involving the research department.  When I reminded him that I would not be back in New York for two weeks, he expressed a desire for the matter to be concluded quickly.  So, I mentioned that I would be seeing Bob in Austin at the end of the week, and could discuss then.  He was a great boss, but I knew that he was aware that as a friend, I would be attending the awarding of an honorary doctorate to Bob by the University of Texas on my way back to the West Coast.  A crafty move on his part, but I would have tried the same.

A few days later, I traveled to Austin for a night, and checked into the Four Seasons downtown, where Bob was staying.  Upon checking in, the clerk informed me that he had passed to the front desk a message asking me to visit his suite.  I thanked her, and headed to my own room to drop-off my luggage, and do some minimal unpacking.  It was already 2:30 in Austin, and I was flying to SFO to get a connecting flight the next afternoon following the award and luncheon.

Upon settling, I headed to Bob’s suite on the top floor. I knocked on the door, and then heard, “I’ll be right there, John,” in his familiar Texas drawl.  When he opened the door, we shook hands, and then embraced in a more familiar hug of close friends.  He showed me around, a rather impressive room of no less than 1800 square feet overlooking the river.  “Where is Patricia?” I asked.  Bob replied, “Well, change of plans.”  He explained that his wife had gone to visit her sister in Dallas, whose husband was recovering from a recent procedure.  I asked him to pass along my regards.

We made our way into the living room to take care of business, which concluded rather quickly to my delight, and from there began to just be ourselves.  I congratulated him on the honor, and Bob being Bob, became flushed and modest.  He then arose, and asked if I wanted a drink, and he poured me a vodka on the rocks.  From there, we began to get caught up on a number of personal matters.

At one point he asked, “So, did you ever fill in that plus one on the wedding invitation?”  Even though we were close, I was taken by surprise, forgetting that Bob had been in my office when the invite arrived several months prior.  “No,” I said.  “I’ll be attending solo.  This way, I can focus on visiting with people at the events.  I only get back to the Coast a few times a year.”

This seemed to draw a rather puzzled look on Bob’s face, as I could clearly see the eyebrows pointed upward through the lenses of his reading glasses.  “Come on, John.  Are you trying to tell me that you can’t get a date for this wedding? You’re in your prime.  Forty-five years old, handsome, well-educated, well-traveled, great career, and you spend most of your time in California when not in New York.  I’m sure there are plenty of eligible gentlemen in both places who would love to accompany you.”

I was shocked, to say the least.  On the one hand, flattered, on the other, feeling as if I’d been drawn out of the closet, even though my being gay was not a secret at headquarters.  Before I could respond, Bob asked, “Did you think I did not know?  You know it doesn’t matter, right?”  The answer of course being, I knew, despite the whole TCU connection he had, that he did not care about ethnicity, orientation, race, religion, etc., with regard to how he viewed people.  

“I suppose that it’s just never come up in conversation between us over the years,” I said.  Thinking about it, I supposed it was true, despite my occasional lusts for him.  

“Well, no pressure, but I would just like to see you with someone.  This isn’t the 1950’s, a couple of 40’s/50’s something guys like you should be enjoying the time together”, Bob said with a smile.

I answered, “That could be an issue.  You see, I have a type, and what you describe, doesn’t match.”  

“Well then, what is your type of man?” Bob inquired.  

In a matter of seemingly no time, I found myself pouring out the details of my ideal man: mature, handsome, worldly, cultured, gentile.  He laughed, “Why on Earth would you want to be with an old man?”  “Not just any old man, the right sort of older man.  Truth be told, he would be a man, like you, Bob, in many respects.”

He looked a little taken aback, so I said that I would head back to my room, and see him at the ceremony.  As I made my way for the front door, I felt a tug on my right arm, and when I turned around, Bob embraced me in a hug and said, “Don’t leave just yet.  You just surprised me is all.  You know that there is no problem for us, right?”  

“Yes,” I said.  

“You know that I love my wife, don’t you, John?”

“Of course, Bob.”

With that, he moved his arms down, and then up along my jacket, caressing my back and chest as he pulled me closer, pulling off his glasses before passionately and firmly pressing his lips to mine.  Not exactly the first time kissing a man significantly older than myself, but this was certainly unchartered territory.  I was so turned on, it felt as if I were high, and wow, could he kiss.  It was a perfect example of why older men are better: they know things.  Even more, I was beginning to realize this was not his first time with another man, certainly not when he began to move his hand over my crotch, focusing on my now fully erect manhood.

“What do we have here?” he asked slyly, as he bent down to unbuckle and open my slacks.  From there, he took me across his lips, and then along his tongue, taking my entirety within his mouth, moving me back and forth.  The sensation was so pleasing, I felt as if I was going to pass out in the middle of the suite.  Hearing his moans and seeing the look upon his face, Bob was enjoying the act at least as much.

After a couple of minutes, he stood and pressed himself against me, with me now feeling the full excitement coming from Bob’s side. We embraced in a kiss for minutes, not wanting to separate.  Toward the end, he was undoing my tie, and I his, after I removed my jacket, and then unzipped his fly, as I had imagined doing so many times over the years. Feeling a drop of pre-cum, I spread it along his tip, then began to move my hand back and forth, reveling in his moans and breathing, until he pulled himself closer and whispered, “Let’s go to the bedroom.”

Within a matter of seconds, we had completely undressed and were embraced near the foot of the bed, and engaged in a complete lip-lock. As I saw it, there was certainly no reason to separate now.  He tasted so good, and I knew he felt the same.  In addition, we had established that he loved his wife, I had no intention of getting in the way, and my attraction to him had clearly taken over after settling those details.

We separated for a moment, as Bob walked over to the side of the bed.  He pulled back the covers and climbed inside.  Leaning on his side he patted his hand on the opposite side of the bed and said, “Come on, don’t be shy,” grinning from ear to ear.  It was all the invitation needed for me to get under the covers and wrap my arms around his beautiful, smooth body.  I wasted no time before reuniting with his lips and playing with his wonderful tongue.  I moved my hands up and down his torso, finally settling down on his firm and gorgeous ass, adjusting to move my head down to focus on his nipples with my tongue and using my right hand to stroke him.  

I could not believe that this was happening.  This was a good friend, a colleague, and although this had been a fantasy for a few years, I could never have imagined that he would be so receptive and then some.  I had every intention of making the most of the opportunity, and thus moved further down to take him in my mouth, and give him his medicine.

“Oh my god,” he exclaimed.  “That is so wonderful.  Please don’t stop.”

I moved up and down along his shaft, wrapping my tongue around the head, and after a couple of minutes, began to really work the head with my mouth while using my hand to pleasure his shaft.  In doing so, I really began to get turned on by his moaning. After a few minutes, he placed his hand on my chest, as if to pause, but then pushed down until I lay flat on my back. Now, Bob was in charge, cleaning my testicles with his tongue, before focusing down on my cock. He moved up and down, closing his eyes, then opening them so that he could see the look of joy upon my face, and he certainly knew how to put in there with years of practice.  

What seemed like hours of pure delight had passed when he let up and pulled himself back up to cuddle and kiss deeply and passionately. He was so close to having me reach the limit, but suddenly pulled back from the act, held me close and whispered into my ear, “Please enter me, darlin’.  I want you to, it will be okay.”  Then, Bob, pulled away and reached into the night stand drawer, and to my surprise, produced a bottle of lube.

“Now, you what to do, don’t you?” Bob asked rhetorically, as he kissed me on the forehead.  So, I felt compelled to prove him right, and lubed my right index finger, and moved it slowly across his rosebud.  This made him twitch and tickle at first, but he knew he was in good company, and I would never let him feel discomfort.  So, as he loosened up after a minute, I lubed my middle finger as well, and began to slowly move them back and forth until I eventually reached his prostate.  Now, he was putty in my hands.  

Once my cock was sufficiently lubricated, I placed myself upon his precipice, slowly waiting for the right time, as I lay with my head upon his stomach. After a minute or two, I lifted my head toward his to embrace in a passionate kiss, after which he said, “I’m ready.”

I began to move ever so slowly back and forth, Bob in the missionary position, resting his heels on my shoulders, facing one another.  It was so hot with the pleasure being split equally.  Every time I thrust forward, I would make eye contact so as to see how much he was enjoying the penetration.  He was giddy like a schoolboy, but more appropriately as an adult, panting and moaning.  After several minutes, neither of us could handle any more, and I thrust against his prostate and ejected a stream within Bob, and then he let out a sigh, “Ohhh, god,” and shot a river of cum across my chest.  Once concluded, we wrapped one another in hugs and kisses, and cuddled. It had been a couple of months since my last experience, but would easily say it was the best sex I had at that point in my life.

Eventually, the silence was broken by the ring of the room’s landline.  Bob answered, “Hello.  Come on now, of course I didn’t forget about you.  Drop by when you’re ready,” he chuckled.

I looked over at the clock, and a couple of hours had since passed.  Then I looked at Bob, and said, “Well, if you’re having a visitor, perhaps it’s best if I move to my room.”  

Bob winked at me and said, “Don’t worry, sweetheart.  You may want to put this on, however,” as he passed me a robe, along with a pair of slippers.

After a few minutes, there was a knock at the door.  Bob went out to the hallway to answer, and I could hear the faint echo of what appeared to be excited conversation between old friends. In the moment, it occurred to me that Bob felt comfortable enough with me to have me here in a robe, while inviting someone else inside, but I still had a tinge of awkwardness about the room. This was originally supposed to be just a stop on the way back west, but had taken a fantastic detour.

Then, a minute later, Bob came walking around the corner, also robed. Then, he asked, “You met John back at one of the holiday parties, didn’t you?”  A moment later around the corner stepped James “Jim” Baker III, former Secretary of Treasury, White House Chief of Staff, to name just a few posts. Being a double-major political science/journalism as an undergraduate, of course he was a familiar figure, in addition to being introduced at Bob’s house.

“Of course.  Nice to see you again, John.”  He smiled, but you could tell from the expression on his face, that this, by no means, was the encounter he had expected.  It was known that although there had been many interviews over the years, they had developed a friendship off-camera.  So, while a stately, respectful man, he did seem somewhat put off that there was an extra man in the room, and reported, “Well, I won’t stay too long.”

The phone rang once more, and Bob said, “I’ll need to take this.  Can you two make yourselves comfortable?”  

“Sure,” we replied in unison.

Jim made his way around to sit on one of the sofas.  He was, I think, a rather handsome man in his own right.  Nicely cut head of white hair, beautiful navy blue suit with a red and blue striped tie, it was as if he’d just stepped out of a Brooks Brothers ad.                                                       

We attempted the task of small talk, although there was a bit of discomfort in the air.  The conversation shifted to the next day’s event for Bob, which brought us both to Austin in the first place, then moved to an overview of each of our schedules for the week. Eventually, I noticed him wince a little, and asked if he was okay.  

“Oh sure, I’m fine.  Just paying the price for a round of golf this past weekend.  No carts, all walking, so my feet are a little tender,” he chuckled.

 I’m not sure what came over me, but I stood up and moved an ottoman closer to Jim, and sat down.  Then, one-by one, I extended each of his legs and removed his cordovan Alden tassel loafers and began to massage his dress-socked feet.  

“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” he said.  

“I’m sorry, I just thought you were having discomfort.  I’ll stop.”

“Well, it certainly is improving things,” Jim said, laughing a little.

I continued doing so for a couple of minutes, enjoying his pleasure.

Then, Bob returned and leaned over Jim to ask, “Do you still want to leave, Bake? They have such great service here.”

Bob then reached over and removed Jim’s suit jacket, as I continued to massage his tired feet.  After hanging his jacket, Bob returned, and from behind, planted a deep kiss on Jim’s lips, that seemed to go on for minutes.  It would have become obvious to an outside observer why Jim seemed edgy at first; he had planned on meeting Bob all by himself, and the way they were going at it, it was not the first or even fifth time, this had been an arrangement for a while.

While they were still kissing, I placed Jim’s feet on the floor, and made my way to his chair.  I moved my hand up and down each of his corresponding legs, and then focused on the midsection.  I caressed his torso, and transferred to his belt, which I unbuckled, then unzipped his fly and opened his slacks, and reaching inside the front hole of his boxers to release him.  Now, he was mine, all 7 inches of engorgement that had developed in the past few minutes, and I wrapped my mouth around the head of his beautiful cock and began working my way up and down.  I could feel the vein along the side, as it met my tongue, and could feel his excitement as he wriggled while still kissing Bob.  

Bob untied Jim’s tie, and I began to move my hand inside of his shirt to feel his amazing chest.  Not smooth like Bob’s, but just the right amount of hair, and light-colored.  In a few minutes, we moved to the bedroom.

We placed Jim back on the bed, and then proceeded to fully undress him.  I moved my way up the bed to kiss him, and again, older men know things.  He was a master kisser, and we worked on one another while Bob serviced Jim below the deck. After a minute or two, I extended my right hand upward and began playing with his nipple.  It seemed to be going well, so I released myself from his lips, and re-focused my mouth on his left nipple, while using my hand to play with his right.

To my delight, he was enthused, evidenced by his moaning of satisfaction.  In fact, he must have been so appreciative, because without notice, he eventually maneuvered so that he could take me into his mouth, and did he ever do so.  He had me in sheer ecstasy for several minutes, moving up and down on my head and shaft, completely reviving me for another performance.

At one point, he changed gears, shifting to Bob.  After all, Bob had been hard at work for some time, and it was his turn to receive the delights he deserved.  In doing so, he placed his hands on each side of Bob’s torso and pulled him up further on the bed.  Then, he got between Bob’s legs and lowered his head, lips first.  As he did, Bob’s patented grin returned to his face as he moved his head back and forth on the pillow.

It’s often said when a threesome occurs, that one person can find himself left out of the equation.  I did not find this to be the case, but rather an opportunity. Specifically, Jim’s spectacular ass was now staring me right in the face.  I extended my hands outward, massaging his buttocks.  It was wonderful, so smooth and tight, you could just feel that he worked out 3-4 times per week.  I could also feel that he was enjoying the chain of stimulation, as on the front end, his mouth and hand were now bringing Bob to new heights of joy.  So, I reached over to the bedside table and retrieved the bottle of lube from earlier.  One by one, I lubed my fingers, and began to finger Jim.  He wriggled a little at first, but began to relax and loosen up, so a couple of minutes later, I spread a generous amount of lube on my cock, and then inserted myself into the former Secretary of Treasury.

As I stated before, this is not anything like I had imagined this trip unfolding.  I wanted it to last as long as possible, so I slowly slid in and out.  He was so moist, and I was so turned by watching him blow Bob and all of the moaning coming from both of them.  I knew it would be only a few minutes at the most until I released myself within Jim.

“Jim,” Bob panted a few minutes later.  “I can’t hang on much longer.”

Jim pulled Bob out of his mouth and began to quickly jerk him off before replying, “Come on, honey.”

Bob threw his head back and said, “Oh my god,” and then proceeded to cum right into Jim’s mouth, which he took like a pro and countered, “Umhm.”

I couldn’t take any more myself, and then pushed further into Jim before shooting a load.

Bob put his head back on the pillow.  His expression was one of satisfaction and exhaustion.  He was spent.

Jim leaned over and covered Bob with the sheet.  Then, he kissed him deeply and passionately on the lips, then gently on the forehead.

I was now lying flat on my back, and Jim cuddled up next to me. He extended both hands, placed them on either side of my face, and pulled me in for a wonderful kiss that made me melt away, and we held in the embrace for several minutes.

“Doesn’t he look cute when he’s sleeping?” he asked me while looking over at Bob.

“As for you, you are every bit as good as I thought you’d be.  Mmm, mmm, mmm.  I knew the first time I laid eyes on you.”  With that, he maneuvered so that he was right on top of me, and as he did, his cock rubbed up against my leg, just dripping with pre-cum.  

Jim pressed his manhood right up against my balls and said, “There just one thing, son.  The next time you’re in Texas, I get Bobby first.  Understood?”

“Understood,” I said.

He then smiled at me, and lifted my legs upward so that my feet were now resting on his shoulders.  With his right hand, he grabbed the lube and squirted several drops on my anus and a plentiful amount over his cock, and moved it up and down his shaft.  Then, he got closer, and pushed himself gently up against my opening.  His cock was just the right size, not too thick, not too thin, that with the lube, he slid right into me.

 “Oh my,” he muttered, as he began to move back and forth.

It was heavenly, as he moved in and out, building up his pace over a few minutes.  Eventually, he unloaded what felt like a gallon of cum all over my insides, falling forward and resting his head on my chest for several minutes before he went limp and released himself from me.  

I must have dozed off because after a while, I felt a hand upon my chin.  I looked up to find Bob smiling as he asked, “Hello, darlin’.  Are you ready for another go?”

What transpired then is between the three of us. That said, it would not be my final encounter with either Bob or Jim.