#i was hungover and covered in glitter but. anyway.

[schleierkauz]

Thief Lord News

i'm still away from my laptop/slightly shellshocked after meeting cornelia BUT during the interview portion she said that she'd been determined not to work on any long stories this year, but when she went to Venice, an idea ambushed her and she can't shake it off. A bit later she confirmed (predictably) that it's something related to The Thief Lord 👀

[sinners-go-to-drink-the-wine]

anyway I'm hungover and covered in glitter and cranky and exhausted and I just wish Jake was in my shower so I'd have the motivation to get up

[burgundybmw]

Waking Up In Vegas

Masterlist

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Hopper!Reader

Word Count: 3,863

Warnings: Drunkness.

Summary: After the death of her father, Y/N Hopper is left to pick up the pieces of her life. She was always the star daughter, perfect grades, never got into trouble, never had a sip of alcohol. She decides life is too short, and takes some of the money her dad left to go have a wild weekend in Las Vegas. Steve being the mother hen he is, decides she shouldn't go alone. Since Scoops Ahoy is in the dust, and job hunting hasn't been going so well, he tags along. Y/N soon realizes there's a reason she listened to her dad's rules all her life, when she wakes up hungover, covered in glitter, and wearing Steve's class ring.

Author's Note: So I found out Jamie Campbell Bower listened to Katy Perry to prepare for his role for Vecna (it was totally Dark Horse), so I took a break from 80s music to put on her discography. Waking Up In Vegas is one of my faves, and that lead to the creation of this. Hope you enjoy it! Takes place after the fall of Starcourt Mall and before Steve and Robin begin working at Family Video.

If you were to ask anyone in Hawkins how they would describe Y/N Hopper, there would be a common theme amongst the citizens. Y/N was responsible, intelligent, dependable, respectful, overall a good girl. She was beloved by her dad and the rest of the Hawkins police department, a model daughter any father would want. She maintained this reputation throughout her life. She didn't go to parties, she didn't sneak out at night, drink or do drugs, she never felt the need. She didn't want to make her dad's life more difficult after Sarah died, and then after mom left. He tried his best, and Y/N knew that. So she tried her best too, but now her dad was dead, and her best didn't seem worth it anymore.

She got the idea after walking past the travel agency in Hawkins. A massive poster filled with depictions of flashing lights and money falling from the sky.

Test Your Luck in Las Vegas! It said. Y/N stared at that poster for a long time. She remembered how much she missed out in her teens, parties, booze, and boys. She was turning 19 in a few months, and she had nothing to show for it. Nothing normal anyway. That's when she decided to go to the bank, cash out some of her inheritance, and book a flight to Vegas.

She could feel the adrenaline rush in her veins, she had never done anything like this before. Every decision she made was calculated, sure, she measured the risks for everything. This was sudden, spontaneous, exciting. The first time she felt thrilled in weeks. She knew her dad would be disappointed in her, but in the moment she didn't think of him. She couldn't, not without crumbling. Y/N needed this, to get away. Get away from Hawkins and all of its mess. Just for a bit, then she'd think about the future. She'd go to college like she planned, and resume her good girl lifestyle. One weekend wouldn't kill her.

Y/N went to the bank, took out $5,000 in cash, and made her way back to the travel agency. The agent, a nice blonde woman named Heidi, took care of everything. She had a first class flight first thing Saturday morning, a beautiful hotel room on the strip with a king sized bed, and a return flight home Monday afternoon. It was all set, and Y/N was in high spirits. That was until she walked straight into Steve Harrington as she left the office's front door.

"Y/N? Hey, uh, how are you holding up?" Steve asked. They had a bizarre friendship, her and Steve. It all started when she went out looking for her father on Halloween night. He had promised to be home at 5 to spend time with her and Eleven, and he was nowhere to be found. Who she found instead was Steve Harrington, nursing a heartbreak after Nancy told him their relationship was quote "bullshit." Y/N couldn't stand the sad puppy dog look on his face, and he did come through the year prior when they all went against the demogorgon.

So she took pity on him, and took him home and made him an ice cream sundae. It's what her dad used to do with her and Sarah when they were sad. He would make dessert for dinner, whatever they had on hand, but sundae's were always her favorite. That night she stayed over and they talked about anything and everything, Nancy, school, the future. It was nice, and they maintained that friendship for the past year and a half. Whenever things got too much they'd call each up, and make dessert for dinner. Before she realized it, she had started to fall for him. Y/N thought about what it would be like, to be with Steve. Strong dependable Steve. He never let her down when she needed him, but she broke that tradition when her dad died. Now all she gave him was radio silence for the past month. He called her often, but she never answered. This was the first time she spoke to him after it happened.

"I'm holding up alright... What about you?" She hated the cordial pleasantries, like they were strangers, but the guilt for ignoring him was weighing on her shoulders now.

"I'm good, the bruises on my face are finally gone. It's nice not to wake up looking like raw hamburger." That got a laugh out of her, and just like that the weight was gone. Steve didn't seem upset with her for ignoring him. Things seemed okay.

"Well that's good to hear. It would be a tragedy if your face maintained hamburger status forever, pretty boy." Steve looked a bit bashful then, his hair bouncing around has he chuckled at her comment. Then he noticed where she was standing, or rather where she was leaving from.

"Are you going on vacation or something?" He asked.

"Um, yea sort of. I'm leaving Saturday morning for Vegas." Steve looked like his eyes were about to pop out of his skull. It would have been a shock to anyone, Y/N Hopper taking a solo trip to Sin City.

"Are you going alone?" Steve had his hands on his hips, he was using the same voice he used on the kids when they were up to mischief.

"Yea. I was planning on it. Why?" She didn't understand why he was acting this way. Like she was out of her mind, maybe she was, but she wasn't a little girl anymore. She could make decisions and mistakes for herself.

"Why? Because it's dangerous Y/N! You know the mob used to bury bodies out there! Who knows if they're still at it! You can't go alone, no way!" Steve said with exasperation.

"Well I am. I'll be back on Monday, and it will all be fine. The decision is already made Steve. So I'll see you later." She could hear Steve's protests as she got into her car and drove away, but she didn't care. She had to go home and pack her bags, and not worry about Steve and his melodrama.

Y/N had never been on a plane before. The first class cabin was nice and spacious, she had the window seat, and the seat beside her was empty as the last passengers walked in. She hoped it remained empty, the last thing she wanted was some stranger try to make boring conversation with her. She looked out the window, soon she will be out of Hawkins. Away from everything that was wrong with that town. Eleven was staying with Joyce and the Byers boys, she had told her sister about her trip and told her when to expect her back. Joyce wasn't as happy as El was about the news, her motherly instincts kicking in. She didn't try to stop her, Y/N was just as stubborn as her father, she just told her to call if her if she needed anything. Now she was here, on her way to Vegas.

She felt someone settle in the seat next to her, but didn't bother looking to see who it was. That was until she felt a tap on her shoulder. The girl turned her head to see what they wanted, only to find Steve Harrington sitting next to her.

"What the hell are you doing here Steve?" A hundred and one questions were running through her head. How did they let him on the plane? Was he trying to stop her? How did she know what flight she was on?

"I'm coming with you." He said quietly as he buckled his seatbelt.

"What? How? Why?" Y/N asked, confused and mildly annoyed.

"I told you you shouldn't go alone, it's dangerous Y/N. I took my dad's credit card and bought the seat next to yours, told the agent you were my girlfriend and that we were paying separately. It's nice to know the old Harrington charm still works."

Y/N was fuming. She didn't ask for a babysitter, she could do this on her own.

"You're getting a flight back to Indianapolis as soon as we land Steve. You had no right to follow me." She tried to keep her voice down, not wanting to alert the fellow passengers.

"Look I'm sorry Y/N, but this isn't like you. You're not the type to drop thousands of dollar on a whim for a trip to Vegas. I just wanted to make sure you're okay, ya know, after everything." Y/N took a deep breath. She shouldn't be surprised, Steve always got himself into trouble for others. The over protective shit head.

"Fine, but don't try to ruin my fun. For once in my goddamn life I want to do something exciting. Pretend I'm not the dead Chief of Police's daughter for a weekend. Alright? If you promise not to mother hen me I'll let you stay." Y/N huffed out. Steve flashed his megawatt smile and settled into his seat. This was going to be a long flight.

They landed in Las Vegas with no issue. The taxi ride to the hotel was tense, Y/N was giving Steve the silent treatment. He tried to break the awkwardness with a witty remark every once in awhile, but she didn't give him the satisfaction. After awhile he gave up.

They checked into the hotel in silence, and then Y/N realized another problem when they walked into the room. It was the lovers suite, the travel agent must have switched it when Steve said he was her boyfriend, the idiot. The heat rushed to her face when she looked around the room.

There was a heart shaped hot tub in the corner of the room, and on the other side was a large king sized bed with a mirror on the ceiling above it. A metal cart was placed in front of a velvet couch, a large bucket filled with champagne rested on top with boxes of chocolates next to it. There were rose petals scattered throughout the room, and everything was decorated in many different shades of red. At least the color would cover up the bloodstains when she killed Steve for this mess.

"Shit, I guess this is what Heidi meant when she gave us an upgrade." Steve said awkwardly, his face as red as the room they were staying in.

"You're taking the couch, and I'm taking a shower." Y/N placed her bags next to the bed and grabbed all of her toiletries. She wouldn't let this set back ruin her trip. Once she got into the bathroom, she turned the shower on as hot as it could go. As she felt the water cascade down her body she thought about what she would do for the rest of the day. One thing was for sure, she was going to open that bottle of champagne as soon as she could.

Y/N got dressed and ready in the bathroom, a black sequin dress hugging her frame. It was her mother's from the 60s, Dad called it her Nancy Sinatra dress. It was at the dry cleaners when she left, and she never came back to get it. So it was Y/N's now. It was the only thing that felt Vegas appropriate. Once her hair and makeup was done to her liking she finally walked out, Steve was sitting on the couch, dressed in a similar get up he wore on Halloween. She walked straight to the champagne bottle and popped it open, oblivious to the hungry stare Steve was giving her.

Steve had developed a crush on Y/N Hopper over the past year, and he finally admitted it to Robin when the Russians gave them that truth serum. That's when she told him that she used to have feelings for her as well, before developing her crush on Tammy Thompson. Steve had said that Tammy wasn't even in the same ballpark as Y/N, the poor girl sounded like a muppet and would totally get crushed in Nashville. That was how they became best friends, and that's when Steve started to allow himself to feel something for his other best friend. He didn't mean for it to happen, and he had no intention of telling her, not after Chief Hopper's death. Steve did allow himself to look at her though, the short black dress leaving just enough for his imagination to run wild. He caught himself when she turned around, two glasses of champagne in hand. She passed one to him before taking her seat next to him on the couch.

"I have decided that we are going to have fun this weekend. No talk of psychic monsters or dead dads. You and I are going to get drunk, dance, play with slot machines, and have a good time. I think we deserve it ya know?" Y/N raised her champagne glass in a toast, and Steve tapped his glass against hers.

"No complaints from me." They both drank their champagne in that cheesy hotel room, completely unaware of what would go down that evening.

Y/N felt a shooting pain in her skull when she regained consciousness. Her stomach was swirling with nausea and her eyes were sensitive to the light that was pouring into the room. She slowly opened her eyes to see the hotel room in complete disarray. Her mother's dress was thrown across the metal cart that was dangerously close to falling into the hot tub, which was still on and bubbling. She could see something floating in the water, and to Y/N's horror it was the bra she was wearing the previous day. The white lace cups bouncing against the walls of the red tub.

She looked down at her body, she was covered in glitter and was wearing a Hawkins basketball sweatshirt. It must have been Steve's. Thankfully she still had underwear on, but then she noticed that it wasn't the same pair she wore yesterday. She tried to remember what the hell happened the night before, but her memories were blurry. That's when she heard a snore beside her on the bed. It was Steve, shirtless and his hairy chest was on display. Y/N didn't have the courage to look below the covers to see if he was as bare below the waist as he was above.

He was still asleep, and Y/N took the opportunity to quietly get out of bed and clean up around the room. There was a mountain of cash in a duffle bag on the couch, and she had no idea if they had won it or robbed a bank. Steve's clothes were thrown about the room, and she carefully picked them up and put them back in his suitcase. She finally found her purse amongst the carnage, and she noticed the fake ID she brought was missing. Her car keys, real driver's license, and plane ticket home were thankfully still inside. There was at least one silver lining.

She tried her best to reorganize the room, but the hangover was getting worse. She needed an aspirin and water a soon as possible. When she went to go look for some she heard a groan from the other side of the room, Steve was finally awake.

"Jesus H. Christ my head hurts." Steve complained. He sat up and finally opened his eyes. He noticed Y/N first, she was bent over looking through her suitcase. She had no pants on, and was wearing his sweatshirt. He looked down at himself and noticed he was half naked. The only thing on his body was his gray Calvin Klein boxers and one sock on his foot. Steve shot his head up, deer in headlights look pointed at Y/N.

"What the hell happened last night?" Steve croaked out, voice sore.

"I have no idea Steve! I only remember bits and pieces." Y/N was pacing around the room, arms waving around. That's when Steve noticed something on Y/N's finger, and his stomach swooped when he realized what is was.

"Y/N... What's that on your hand?" He really hoped it wasn't what he thought it was. Y/N looked down at her finger, and finally noticed the piece of jewelry she wasn't wearing yesterday.

"Steve, why am I wearing your class ring?" Y/N asked, voice stern. It reminded him of her dad. Steve tried to remember how his ring got on her finger, he vaguely remembered a small white room. Elvis was there, or a guy dressed up as him. There were flowers, and Y/N had a veil on her head...

"Holy shit, did we get hitched last night?" Steve yelled. He shot out of bed and nearly toppled over, he hadn't had a hangover this brutal since sophomore year. Y/N didn't pay attention to him as she stared at the ring on her finger. She remembered the little chapel now, a very drunk Steve struggling to put the ring on her finger. She remembered a flash going off, there was a photo.

Y/N started looking around the room, heart racing and hands shaking. She picked up her bags, the pillows on the bed, the empty bottles of champagne in the room. It was when she got to the duffle bag full of cash that she noticed a polaroid hanging out the side pocket, she carefully picked it up and what she saw made her jaw drop.

It was Steve, he had her mid dip, one hand holding her back and the other gripping the thigh she had wrapped around him. Y/N had her arms around his neck, bouquet in hand and a veil on her head. They were kissing, and a large banner above a fake Elvis said "Congratulations to the Bride and Groom!" and written on the bottom of the polaroid in neat cursive writing read "The Harringtons."

Y/N's blood ran cold. She married Steve last night. Steve Harrington was her husband. The memories were coming back to her. It was after Steve had won the jackpot from the slot machine, in all the excitement he had kissed her against the machine. She kissed him back. They were drunk and running on adrenaline, and decided it was a great idea to hit the strip with their winnings. Y/N had wanted to bring the duffle bag filled with the majority of their riches back to the hotel room, Steve had lost the hotel key and they had to trace their steps back. Instead of finding the key, they found The Little Vegas Chapel.

That's when he went on this monologue about having a happy family, with six kids and a wife where they traveled across the country. Steve wanted to be a dad, be involved with his kids unlike his parents. Y/N always wanted to be a good mom, one who would never abandon her daughter like her mother did. Y/N had said she wanted the same thing, a big family, backyard, and a husband who loved her. She couldn't remember what happened after that conversation, Steve had said something, they kissed again, and then they went inside The Little Vegas Chapel. Elvis had married them, and Y/N found the spare hotel key in her purse.

Y/N sat down on the couch and lifted her hand to show Steve the polaroid. He was finally dressed and slowly walked over to her. He took the photo from her hand, and immediately dropped on to the seat next to her.

"We're married..." Steve said, voice barely above a whisper.

"Looks like it." Y/N responded. He put the picture down on her lap and began pacing around the room, mumbling nonsense under his breath.

"Shit, shit, shit. I have to call Henderson." Steve said as he went to grab the hotel phone. Y/N immediately hung it up before he could press dial.

"Don't call Dustin!" Y/N yelled. The last thing she needed right now was for that big mouth to tell all of Hawkins about what happened.

"What do you mean don't call Dustin? He might be able to help us figure this out!" Steve was yelling now too. He was nauseous, dizzy, and apparently married. Robin was gonna give him so much shit when he got home.

"How is a 14 year old going to help? He's not a fucking divorce lawyer!" Y/N regretted her choice of words when she saw Steve's face fall.

"One, he's a very capable 14 year old. Two, Why are you immediately thinking about divorce? What, is the concept of being married to me so horrible?" Steve hated how insecure he sounded. His memories of last night were returning, and he remembered telling Y/N about his dreams for the future, that he loved her. She kissed him, but she didn't say it back. He remembered that now. She agreed to marry him, but she never said she loved him. He felt sick to his stomach, and it wasn't because of the hangover.

"Look, Steve. We're 18 years old, we're too young to be married. We did it while we were drunk, hell, you don't even like me like that." Y/N went to go sit on the bed again, she didn't want to be standing for this conversation. Steve sat down next to her, his head in his hands barely containing the shaking in his body. He remained silent, so Y/N took that as a sign to continue.

"Steve you are my best friend. You've become one of my favorite people in my life, Jesus, now that dad's gone you probably are my favorite person. I care about you so much, and the idea of marrying you... I know you would make an amazing husband. Your future wife will be the luckiest girl in the world, but when you thought about your future, with your six little nuggets traveling cross country, I'm almost positive it wasn't me you pictured by your side." Y/N tried not to cry. She knew she wasn't Steve's dream girl, it was Nancy Wheeler. Beautiful, smart, incredible Nancy. She was the love of Steve's life, not her. Y/N knew that, but it didn't make it hurt any less.

There were so many things Steve wanted to say. He wanted to tell her she was wrong, that she was the one he pictured as his wife, the mother of his children. Nancy never wanted things like that, she wanted to focus on her career, and Steve didn't judge her for that. Y/N was the one who tagged along with him on babysitting duty, she was such a natural with them. He wanted to tell her that he would be a good husband to her. That he would love her, be there for her in sickness and in health, in times of struggle and in times of joy. He didn't realize how badly he wanted it until he saw that chapel on the Las Vegas strip. He wanted it with her, but she was right. They were too young, he hadn't even gathered the nerve to ask her out on a date yet. They would figure this out, and maybe, one day, Y/N would want to marry him for real.

"So what do you want to do now?"

A/N: If you guys like this I'll make a part two!

[astralsweetness]

So Kiss Me Goodbye (Hui/Reader) (m)

➣ I wrote this in, like, fifteen minutes the day before his enlistment, so it’s not very good at all lmao

➣ Very very vaguely connected to this drabble, which is connected to this fic. Title from Pentagon’s “Beautiful Goodbye”, Hui’s line specifically: "So kiss me goodbye, if I have to leave I'd rather leave beautiful memories behind".

➣ Hui/Reader | Warnings include: Mentioned alcohol in the beginning, pegging (tho it’s not explicitly said, so it could be seen as a male!reader as well), implied choking, mentioned safewording, mentioned hair-pulling. Talks about his enlistment, sort of angsty but things are okay.

Hui’s leaning on you just a bit too heavily, both of his hands wrapped around one of yours to amuse himself. You knew it would end up like this when the somaek was brought out – he might not have had the highest tolerance, but that didn’t mean he found it difficult to drink something lighter than soju.

“It was a lot of fun.” He’s speaking quietly to you, aware of the taxi driver even while drunk, some idol-life rules ingrained in his being without needing to be sober. That being said, the fact that he was half on top of you proved his memory was very selective. “It’s been a while since we could all get together.”

You’ve heard this before, mostly because he’d said some iteration of this to you about six other times tonight. You know how Hui is going to respond to your response, but you lead him down the same conversation as before anyway. “Didn’t you all get together to do the exact same thing the last time you were set to enlist, Hui?” You’re wary to call him anything else in the presence of a cab driver who may or may not be listening.

“Hyojongie didn’t bring Hyuna-noona last time.” He says it like it’s as simple as that, and you suppose it is. For someone who thrived off of being surrounded by his found family, having an extra person was probably nice. “Wish Jinho-hyung could have come though.”

“You know he doesn’t get many off days.” You’re not totally listening to the conversation considering it was one you’d already had with him more than once, but you can feel his glittering gaze on the side of your face, looking at you like you were everything he ever wanted. It was heavy with alcohol but no less sincere.

You keep your gaze turned away, out the window at the night scenery blurring by, his hands still holding yours as he tucks his face in against your neck, facemask rough against your skin.

.｡..｡.

By the time you get home he is half-asleep, the driver looking at you with pity as Hui leans on you when the two of you get out of the taxi. You’re not sure why that look bothers you, fingers holding Hui’s waist a bit tighter in reflex.

He is asleep the instant he touches your bed, curled up on his side of it with his face buried in your pillow, like even in his dreams he was trying to make up for the fact that you weren’t directly next to him. He’s still wearing the clothes he’d worn out to the get-together, but you don’t even entertain the thought of waking him up to deal with them – it was obvious how tired he was, even without the alcohol’s influence.

You leave a glass of water and an aspirin on the bedside table near him, sliding under your covers moments later – he turns towards you instantly, and you wrap your arms around him out of habit, one hand resting lightly on the back of his neck. That was a habit too.

Kissing him on the forehead wasn’t a habit, and he makes a soft sound at the feeling, nuzzling in against your collarbone.

.｡..｡.

You wake to kisses littering across your cheekbones – before you even open your eyes you can hear him laughing softly, knowing precisely when you awoke. He was just too perceptive when it came to those he loved.

“Sweetheart, I’m pretty sure this isn’t my dorm.”

“Shouldn’t you be hungover..” Your response is less than enthusiastic, even when he cuddles up to you and presses more kisses to your jaw. He wanted something, you just didn’t know what yet.

“I am – and I would be worse if my darling lover hadn’t left medicine by the bed.” He pauses only briefly, during which you crack your eyes open finally to look at him. He does look vaguely hungover, but he also looks beautiful, dark hair falling into his eyes and petal pink lips upturned into a slight grin, face the vaguest bit puffy from the alcohol and extended sleep. Then again, he always looked beautiful to you. “I love you.”

That was a new phrase that had entered your relationship only recently, and something Hui had seemed to cling to when it had been given to him. He said it all the time, as a greeting, as a promise, as a threat, as a goodbye.

But the words felt heavy on your tongue – what was that supposed to mean, when he led the life he did? With your relationship the way it currently was? He’s still waiting for a response with an expression you can only categorize as fond. He never rushed you when it came to this, just smiled and waited, unbothered, like he knew your response even if you didn’t say it.

He deserved the truth though, so you murmur a quiet “I love you too” that wreathes around the two of you like a heavy entity, suffocating but also warm and protective.

“This isn’t your dorm because I wanted to wake up next to you.” That, too, was the truth – the sunset hue of his eyes turns more dawn than dusk at the words, brows pulling together like hearing that was a sweet type of pain. He doesn’t say the I’m sorry I can’t more often that you know is crowding on his tongue. Instead he just presses a soft kiss to your lips before the mischievous look from before re-enters his eyes. He definitely wanted something.

“Since I’m here, what about morning sex?” He says it with no shame, forcing a startled laugh out of you – the room feels lighter somehow, and you reach out to affectionately cup his face, brushing your thumb across his cheek. You can feel the slight imperfections of his skin under your finger, the minute things makeup would always cover, his perfect flaws that you loved.

“Depends.” Your hand caresses his face and slides down until it’s wrapped snugly against the side of his throat, right in the spot it belongs. When he swallows you can feel it under your palm, warm and trusting. “What did you have in mind?”

“Want you to fuck me.” He’s grinning, like he enjoys getting to say something so blatantly naughty sounding after always policing what he says for the camera. “It’s been a really long time since I got fucked last.”

“Really?” You find that hard to believe, considering your Hui had always been sort of a slut (which you called him with all the affection in the world). He laughs in mock offense at your question, so utterly happy just from getting to spend the morning with you, despite his apparent hangover.

“Yes, really! I haven’t even gotten to use my own fingers in a while – do you have any idea how clingy those boys can get when they put their mind to it? Even Hyunggu will follow me around now that the enlistment date was confirmed.” Hui’s whining, trying to make a big deal out of something you know he in actuality loved.

“Then I guess I have some work to do, don’t I?” He scoots back a bit so you can stretch as you sit up, blankets pooling around your waist. It’s only now you notice that at some point in the morning he had shed his belt and pants from the night before. “Someone as pretty and cute as you shouldn’t have to touch themselves, isn’t that right?”

He throws you a smile in response – it’s one of his fragile ones, where he looks almost sad but is instead simply overcome with emotion. You can’t help laughing at him, sliding from under the covers and tossing the lube at him haphazardly. He stretches to catch it, just managing to keep it from falling off the bed. “That was supposed to be a good line, Hui, but you ruined it with your sappy affection.”

“Oh – wait, hang on, you can say it again and I’ll pretend I haven’t heard it.”

Sex with Hui ranged from anywhere between incredibly tense and passionate to carefree and casual, and this seemed to be one of the latter scenarios. There’s a persistent laugh lingering in his throat, infectious, and you can’t help but to laugh along whenever he does.

The atmosphere only slightly changes when you begin to open him up, a specific type of gracefulness seen in the line of his body when you crook your fingers and he arches his back off the bed. A sound that might have been a yelp or a moan accompanies it. Everything is still soft and hazy, warmth suffused through your bodies from where his fingers tangle with your own.

You’re content to let him take the lead, watching tenderly even while his fingers curl semi-painfully into your shoulders when he bottoms out, head thrown back, throat working as he swallows hard. You wonder if you could get away with marking him up before he has to go, but ultimately decide not to, knowing at least someone will be recording when he leaves.

Watching him move on top of you while you lie back and watch is a type of special pleasure - he is just so beautiful, brow furrowed and lips parted, gaze dark and intense but just a bit disconnected like he was focused only on how good he felt. It’s only when his movements become rough that you take all control back, a simple heavy hand on his hip making him still. Sweat glistens on his skin, cock red and glistening with pre-cum from a mixture between desperation and arousal.

“Slower – Hwitaek, baby, I’m not going anywhere.” You reach for his hand, finding it easily even if you curse yourself for your choice of words – it trembles in your grasp and you wonder, for the first time, if he hasn’t been totally honest about how he feels about the four weeks he’ll be gone for basic training. He’s gazing down at you with such a bittersweet expression that it makes your chest ache, and he’s completely stopped moving at this point, resting on your hips, taking all of you as deep as possible.

“I know.” His voice is a soft whisper – four weeks of no contact, of only one phonecall for a limited time every seven days. You weren’t sure he’d ever gone that long without contact from either you or one of his boys.

It’s not fear you’re seeing reflected back at you in his eyes, but loneliness. A lingering sadness because he doesn’t want to be apart from those he loves for even a moment.

“Do you need to safeword, baby?” It feels necessary to ask, to remind him of his safety net considering the way he had gone distant, body tense and fingers shaking around your own.

“No.” It’s still soft, but more firm than his voice had been earlier. Whatever had taken hold of his thoughts he’s managed to shake off – it hurts you, but you know it’s necessary. There wasn’t anything anyone could do to change what was going to happen. “Just want to be with you for a while.”

“You’ve got me, darling.” Your words are followed by the sweet press of his lips against your knuckles, fingers still curled protectively around your own like it was something sacred to him. “Here, let’s switch positions, let me take care of you.”

“You already are.” He sounds exasperated but amused, a little grunt being torn from his chest anyway when his back hits the bed, feeling the way you shift inside of him. When you lean down to kiss him he returns it eagerly, if not a bit languidly, a soft whimper of a moan being swallowed up by your mouth when you begin to thrust into him again.

He’s quieter than he usually is, more subdued, one hand clenched tight in the pillow above him and the other interlaced with your own. You’re fucking him deep, punching little gasps out of his lungs while he rocks his hips towards your own. As beautiful as he is you can’t stop your gaze from drifting to his neglected cock, red and slick with need and desperation.

“That looks painful, baby.” You’re speaking softly, bent over him, and he cracks his eyes open simply so he can crane his neck up and kiss you. You try not to laugh into the kiss and largely succeed. “You ready to cum, sweetheart?” At his nod you un-entangle your hand from his, ignoring the disappointed whine that lodges in his throat. It’s quick to transform into a breathless moan when you wrap your hand around him, the glide of skin on skin incredibly slick already from how much he’d been leaking.

Hui orgasms with a sharp gasp, so much quieter and less dramatic than he usually is, muscles in his abdomen tensed tightly and head thrown back, digging into the pillow. The cum glitters on his skin under the weak rays of sun filtering in through the drapes, and he’s breathing hard, chest heaving, and you’re not sure you’ve ever seen something or someone so primally beautiful before.

He lets you be away from him just long enough for you to clean his stomach off with tissues before he’s tugging you back down beside him. It’s a bit too warm, his skin sweaty and sticky, but you nestle down against him anyway and indulge in his presence, perhaps over indulging as the two of you share countless long, languorous kisses.

“Maybe I should be worrying about how I can go four weeks without this, instead of anything else.” His words are coated with amusement and you can’t help but to giggle with him, burying your nose into his neck. His fingers continue to play with yours, resting on his bare chest.

“You’ll manage.” You press a kiss to the corner of his lips when he turns to look down at you, an “I love you” lingering between you both, unspoken but known. “I know you’ll be okay.”

[yespolkadotkitty]

Merry Christmas, Jaskier

@whenrainbowsend​ , this is for you. Happy Christmas and I hope you enjoy your @thewitchersecretsanta​ gift!

Words:  1300  ~ Pairing: Jaskier x Geralt of Rivia ~ Warnings: Tooth-rotting fluff.

Read on AO3 here

Christmas.

For years, Christmas had meant:

-His shitty apartment above Roach’s stable.

-Christmas TV.

-Waking up alone, usually hungover.

-Scouring the usual boards for bail bondsman work. Finding some, jumping in the car. Dragging a criminal into an empty lock-up manned by one surly cop.

-Or finding no work, getting antsy, and going for a hike, for something to do.

It’d been..... Lonely.

But for the first time - things would be different.

For the first time since they’d..... gotten together, Jaskier was coming for Christmas.

Geralt leaned against the kitchen doorway of his new apartment (much less shitty than the previous one, with an adjoining stable) and watched with amusement as Jaskier carted the sixth box into the living room.

A room that Jask lit up even when he was’t here. He’d set up photos of the two of them - everything from their first night out together, when Jaskier had presented a non-plussed Geralt with a faux-distressed Jaskier and the Dandelions UK Tour 2019 t-shirt, to last month when they’d toured the London Winter Wonderland together and Jaskier had tugged them both into one of those tourist-trap photobooths.

Geralt would never admit it out loud but that picture was his favourite.

“And what’s in this one?”

Jaskier tossed a look over his shoulder. “Lights.”

“That’s what you said about the second box.”

“Different sort of lights, Geralt. Gods, you really haven’t had Christmas for years, have you? Poor baby.” He set the box down and crossed the room to Geralt, cupping his face and kissing him square on the mouth.

Geralt scowled.

Jaskier grinned. “That’s better.” He patted Geralt’s cheek and then went back to the boxes, bending over at an angle that absolutely flattered his ass.

Geralt sighed.

Over the next forty minutes, Geralt admired the view as Jaskier erected a six foot tree from a box.

“Need a hand?”

“No. No,” Jaskier repeated when Geralt tried to help. “Let me give you this, Geralt. Enjoy it. Let someone do something nice for you.”

“Oh, because you never do nice things for me,” Geralt drawled.

Jaskier just sent him a winning grin, and so, as usual, Geralt let the bard have his way.

What a musician like Jaskier, who regularly sold out stadiums, wanted with a tired bail bondsman with him was anyone’s guess, but Geralt had learned not to question it. With the force that was Jaskier, you didn’t prepare.You simply strapped in for the ride.

The tree glittered with tiny pinprick lights in soft gold. The branches might have been plastic, but with that diffused lighting, the artfully arranged pine cones and dried orange slices - where the fuck did Jask get this crap? - and ribbons and snowflakes, hell if it didn’t look right out of the forest.

Jaskier leaned up on his tip-toes to place a wooden star covered in glitter and who else knew what on the top of the tree, then paused.

“Would you like to do it?”

“Do what.”

“Put the star on. Come on Geralt, were you born or did you crawl out from under a rock?”

Geralt sighed, crossed the room to the tree that was very nearly as tall as him. “Okay. Give it here.”

“Wait, I want to document this. For posterity.”

“I’ll give you posterity.” Geralt held out his hand. “Give. It. Here.”

Jaskier held up a finger. “Wait, you big grumpy bear.” He tugged his iPhone from his pocket and flipped the camera on, then placed the star in Geralt’s palm. “Ready.”

Geralt stepped forward and, without having to stretch at all, placed the star on the top two, sticky-up branches of the tree, and then looked at the camera.

“Smile then!” Jaskier groused.

Geralt smiled obediently.

“Now what do we do?”

“I’m glad you asked!” Jaskier slid his phone back in the pocket of his charmingly distressed jeans. Why he paid top dollar to have someone else artfully rip his jeans, Geralt would never understand. “Now we eat mince pies and look at the twinkling lights.”

Geralt dropped on the enormous leather sofa (his choice, Jaskier would have plumped for velvet) just as the bard swept out of the kitchen area with a silver platter bearing two mince pies dusted with sugar.

“Sweet mince,” Geralt said doubtfully.

“I repeat. Have you been living under a rock? Try it, you’ll like it.” He dropped down next to Geralt and lifted a pie to the bondsman’s lips. “Go on.”

Taking a bite, Geralt found himself smiling as the sweet and tart flavours of the seasonal treat exploded on his tongue. The pastry was buttery and crumbly and he took another bite from Jaskier’s hands as soon as he could.

The tree twinkled by the big window of his apartment, he had delicious pie in his mouth and the man he loved at his side.

This Christmas was shaping up to be something very special indeed.

*****

Later that evening, they stretched out on the same sofa (Jaskier had become accustomed to it, it was great for naps), watching Love, Actually.

“Every year I hope that Alan Rickman won’t cheat on Emma Thompson,” Jaskier sighed, his head pillowed on Geralt’s shoulder.

Geralt grunted, hoping this would be a sufficient response.

“But every year he does.”

“Why do you still watch it?”

Jaskier snuggled into Geralt, tugging the throw over them both. “Hope.”

“Seems pointless.”

“You would say that. But I believe in love. And thank Christ! If you’d been left to your own devices we wouldn’t be here.”

Damn if that didn’t strike a nugget of outlandish fear into Geralt’s heart. He actually shuddered. A little.

“Fortunate that you took the initiative, then.”

“Very fortunate,” Jaskier said cheekily, playfully drilling a finger into Geralt’s chest. “I could be anywhere in the world tonight, you know. Strumming my lute in Venice, on the Rialto bridge, playing to a full house at the Globe, winking at supermodels in Cannes-”

“I know,” Geralt murmured, and he ignored the TV and pulled the bard close, nuzzling his soft, chocolate brown hair. “I know. And it beggars belief - to me anyway - that you’re here. But now that you are, I never want you to leave.”

Jaskier sighed happily.

Then he squeaked, and sat up. “Geralt?”

“Hmm.”

“I’ve never heard you say that many words in one go! Will you say some more?”

A low chuckle escaped the bondsman’s lips. “What would you like me to say?”

Jaskier rolled his eyes. “You doofus. How about, Merry Christmas, Jaskier?”

Everything settled inside Geralt. A warmth filled his chest and he dropped a kiss on Jaskier’s head. “Merry Christmas, Jaskier.”

Unbeta’d

[softboywriting]

Hitched | Shawn Mendes

Summary: After a wild night in Vegas you and Shawn end up married according to the tabloids. Will these rumors change your dynamic and be the push the two of you need to finally admit your feelings for each other, or will it be the end of your relationship both professionally and personally? [personal assistant reader] [fake married] [accidentally married] [non au theme] 

Word Count: 8.5k 

|Masterlist In Bio|

Early morning sun blinds you through the windows of your hotel suite. Your head pounds, body feeling like it's been hit with a sack of bricks. Your mouth is dry like sandpaper as you reach for a bottle on the nightstand. There's a heavy weight across your stomach and you look down. An arm. A bulky thick arm with the tattoo of an orchid in a light bulb. Shawn.  

You push back the blankets to reveal the sleeping giant. He is sprawled out beside you on his stomach, arm across your waist, face pressed into the pillows. This wasn't the first time the two of you ended up in bed together, and it wouldn't be the last. At least he went home with you last night. As soon as the tequila shots had come out, you started to worry. Shawn and tequila don't mix well and he gets a little crazy.  

A pang of sickness washes over you and you need to get up. It's not like you to drink when Shawn drinks. It's sort of your job to keep him out of trouble and on task. But shit happens. At least he's with you, like you said. You did your job well enough. You push at his arm and instead of removing it, he curls it tighter around you, pressing on your stomach.

“Shawn, I have to get up. I feel sick.”

“Mmm.” He groans and rubs his face into his pillow. “No, stay with me.”

“Shawn. Now.”

“Stop talking.” He rolls over, toward you, and tugs you closer to him. “My head hurts.”

“You're hungover.”

“Probably.”

You run your hand over his hair and glitter falls out. You have no idea where that came from but it isn't what you're really focusing on. No. The ring on your finger is what catches your eye. It's Shawn's, his pinky ring, the rose gold one. Why were you wearing it on your wedding ring finger? Why were you wearing it at all? Oh no. A portion of the night comes flooding back to you. Brian had been joking with Shawn that since he lost his passport yesterday morning, he was illegal in the USA. Oh God Shawn no. You love Shawn, hell, you know him better than most at this point. It's hard not to fall in love with someone like him, but those feelings were counterproductive to your job and he could never know. Though you suppose he already does, the two of you couldn't deny looks and familiar touches. It was complicated.

“Shawn get up,” you push him off of you and he sits up quickly. “What happened last night?”

He holds his head and groans loudly. He'd had far more to drink than you did. “I don't remember.”

You put your hand out for him. “Did we get married?”

“What?!” Shawn grabs your hand and studies the ring on your finger. “No! Why would we do that?! I know we got smashed but fucking christ.”

“I don't know! Call Brian. Maybe he remembers?”

Shawn pats around under the pillows and produces his phone. “Fuck,” he turns the screen toward you and there's a bunch of missed calls and texts. You can't help but notice his background is the two of you backstage at the capital summertime ball last year. He picked you up on his shoulders to see the stage and Brian snapped a photo. He calls Andrew instead of Brian since the missed calls were all from him.

“Morning newlyweds,” Andrews voice crackles over the speakerphone between you and Shawn. “Hungover?”

“Andrew what happened last night?”

“You guys must have been seriously messed up. You wouldn't believe me if I told you.”

You sigh. “Andrew what happened?”

“Well Brian convinced Shawn that because we can't find his passport, he had to marry a US citizen to stay in the country. Which is ridiculous, because I just had to go get a temp until we can get back to Toronto and get a new one. Anyway, you and Shawn ditched everyone and went to get hitched in the basement chapel of the hotel by some Elvis impersonator who was on site for a gimmick wedding being hosted last night.”

“It's probably not even legal then. We didn't sign anything, it's just a ceremony right?”

“No, not technically, he was a justice of the peace though. Registered and everything. Brian and Zubin were your witnesses.” Andrew sighs and you roll your eyes. “Luckily it was just you four idiots and no one but us knows about this.”

Shawn holds his head. “Okay well, it's fine then.”

“Perfect. Thank Andrew.” You click to hang up and stare at Shawn. “You're so dumb y'know that?”

“Oh shut up. You obviously agreed to go along with it, so you're pretty dumb too.”

You shove him and he shoves you back, pinning you to the bed. “Shawn I swear to God if you-”

He leans down and gets close to your face. His breath ghosts over your cheek and jawline. He's going to threaten to lick you. Somehow he found out that spit grosses you out; the wet feeling, the knowing it came from someone else's mouth, all of it just squicks you out. He found out and now every chance he gets he uses it against you when he doesn't get his way or wants something. He was a damn man child sometimes. “Take it back or I'll do it.”

“Never.”

“Last chance.”

You close your eyes and wait for the worst. You'll never admit defeat. He was dumb, the whole marriage thing had to be his idea. How he convinced you in your drunken state to marry him you will never know. Obviously your brain had decided to put feelings for Shawn over work, rational thinking and common sense last night, but it's still definitely his fault.

He opens his mouth and you can feel his breath hotter than ever. You struggle against his hold and then go still when his mouth connects with your cheek. It's not spit, it's not his tongue. It's his lips, warm and soft against your skin.

“What're you doing?”

“What?”

You peek one eye open and look down at him. “Aren't you going to lick me?”

“Nah. You're my wife now.” He grins and kisses your cheek again. “I guess I gotta be sweet on you.”

“Oh shut up! I'm not actually your wife!” You shove him as he releases your arms and falls over laughing. “Get dressed chuckles. We have to be at the airport soon.”

____________________

“So are you taking my last name then?” Shawn asks with a smirk from the seat beside you. “Because I think it suits you.”

“I'm not talking to you anymore.”

“You have to! You're my assistant and my best friend.” He slides his hand over yours on the arm rest between the two of you. “Please talk to me?”

You let his fingers curl around yours as you close your eyes. He always held your hand when the plane was taking off. It's just how it was. You needed something real to hold on to until you were in the air and he was always that something. “What am I supposed to say?”

“Just answer my question. Are you taking my last name?”

“Why does it matter? We're not actually married so who cares?”

“I care.”

You cut him and glare and he isn't even smiling like he was joking. “Why?”

“I just do. Hypothetically, would you take my name?”

“Yeah. Sure.”

Shawn looks satisfied with himself. You have no idea why that mattered. It wasn't like you were actually married. Well you were officiated but, y'know, whatever.

____________________

All hell breaks loose when you and Shawn walk into the central concourse of the airport you've landed at. The screams are deafening and louder than you've ever heard before. Jake tries to keep a minimum distance as you and Shawn make your way to the front doors with Andrew and the rest of the crew in tow.

“What is going on?!” You yell and Shawn falls back to put his arm around you and lean down to hear you. “I said what's going on?”

“No clue. People must be just extra excited to see me today.”

“Shawn! Shawn! Is it true?! Have you been in a secret relationship with your assistant for years?!”

Shawn looks over to the well dressed woman who's running alongside the group. She's asking all sorts of questions about you and Shawn. Obviously a reporter.

“Keep going!” Andrew yells over the crowd and comes up close behind you. “Don't answer any questions! Me and Brian will take your bags, just go!”

Shawn passes his suitcase to Brian and you give yours to Andrew. Shawn's hand finds yours and it's sweaty as he pulls you closer to Jake. He's nervous, anxious as his eyes start darting around to what you can only assume to be over a hundred people in the concourse. The two of you were used to crowds, it came with the job, but this was a swarm.

Jake pulls the two of you into a security office with help from some of the local airport security personnel. One moment you're in deafening loudness and the next it's muffled silence. Your ears are ringing and you feel like you've just survived an apocalypse. Shawn's hand is gripping yours so tight his knuckles are white and he's shaking.

“Shawn, hey,” you say softly and he looks down at you.

“Pull the blinds please,” Jake instructs to an officer by the door. She turns and pulls the blinds on the two floor to ceiling windows looking out to the hoard.  

You sit Shawn down in a rolling chair behind a desk covered in paperwork. “Hey, look at me bud.”

The two officers and Jake move to the farthest corner from the two of you and talk among each other about how to clear up the situation outside the door.

Shawn looks at you and you run your hand over his hair. “Sorry, I just got overwhelmed.”

“It's cool. You know you just have to tell me and we'll fix it.”

“That woman knew. She knew about us.”

Us. As if there was really something going on between the two of you.

“She doesn't know anything. People have speculated for years about us. She probably just saw us talking when we got through the gate.” You scratch his scalp gently as he leans his forehead against your stomach. “Relax, deep breaths. Wanna do a vocal warm up to let it out?”

“No, it's fine. I just want to get to the hotel as soon as possible.”

“Jake,” you look over and he looks at you. “What's the plan to get out of here?”

“Security is going to escort us out. They've got more people coming down here to help. Just a few minutes. I've let Andrew know we're alright.”

“Thank you.”

Shawn stands up and pulls you into a hug. He presses his nose into the top of your hair and sighs. “Sorry I keep making today so stressful for you.”

“No, Shawn, it's not your fault.” You rub up his back and down again. “Things happen. We'll be okay. We always are.”

_____________________

Turns out the news has broken and the world knows that you and Shawn allegedly got married. TMZ was first to announce so you're sure that the Elvis impersonator spilled his guts for a couple hundred dollars. That son of a bitch. As if Shawn wasn't already having a hell of a time with stress on tour, this had to happen.

You don't even want to go out of the hotel now. The comments on every social media platform are enough to make you want to peel your skin off. There's two types of people it seems. Ones that think you're amazing and ones that hate your guts. For the most part it's people hating you.

“We're going to get dinner, are you coming?” Shawn asks, poking his head into your room.

“I'm gonna stay in. I don't want to go out.”

“Is it because of the gossip?”

“Yeah. I'm tired of being called ugly, fat and worthless. Why give people more fodder to keep the fire burning?”

Shawn steps in and closes the door behind him. “Why are you reading that crap?”

“I can't avoid it. Everywhere I go it's all people are talking about.” You flip through your Twitter feed and hold it up for Shawn. “Oh this is my favorite, gold digging whore.”

Shawn stalks across the room and snatches the phone from your hand. He throws it into your suitcase and squats down in front of you. “They're jealous. Angry jealous people who have no idea who you are.” He takes your hands and kisses over your knuckles. “They have no idea how beautiful and smart and funny you are.”

“Shawn...you're just saying that.”

“I'm not.” He looks at you over your hands. “I'm honored to call you my wife, real or fake, it's an honor. Any man who marries you is lucky.”

Tears sting the corners of your eyes and you look down, lip trembling.

“Let's stay in. We can rent a movie on the TV and order something to be delivered.”

“No, you go with the guys.” You pull one hand out of his and wipe your wet cheeks. “I'm fine.”

“I won't go.” He stands and crawls on to the bed, sitting behind you and dragging you between his legs. “I'd rather spend my night with you then watch Brian try to pick up the bartender for three hours straight.”

"Can we get Chinese?"

"Of course." Shawn pulls his phone out and scrolls through Google to find a local place to deliver. "You want your usual?"

"Yeah. Extra dumplings if they have them."

He brings the phone up to his ear and smiles. "Anything you want."

____________________

Two days later. Heading to the venue where Shawn is playing isn't usually a stressful thing. You've done it countless times. But you've never done it with everyone thinking you're his wife. The back of the transit van is silent, uncomfortably so. Shawn is on his phone, Andrew and Brian are staring out the windows and Connor is messing with something on his camera.

You hold your bag tight against your lap and sigh. Shawn opens his his legs and bumps your thigh. You look up and he's smiling. “What are you doing?”

“Can you hand me my notebook?”

“Yeah sure.” You dig around in your little black backpack and produce his tattered leather bound journal. It's his writing notebook and if anyone besides you ever had it he would probably explode. “Got an idea?”

“Yeah, just something that's stuck in my head.” He takes it and slides the little pen out from the side and starts writing. He looks so focused as he scribbles away, striking things out and looking annoyed. His brain never stopped.

“Hey.”

You look away from Shawn to Connor who is across from the two of you and has his camera up right. “Yeah? Need something?”

“No, nevermind.”

“We're here,” Andrew says as the van comes to a halt.

Shawn closes the notebook and hands it over. “Are you nervous?”

“Are you?”

“Yeah but I have you, so it'll be okay.” He grabs your hand and squeezes. “Everyone ready?”

Everyone mumbles in unison and Jake pulls open the side door to the sound of fans yelling beyond the barriers a few yards away. No questions. No photos. Just straight into the venue.

The second you're inside the venue there are coordinators ushering you to the question and answer area that's set up in a meeting room. Usually sound check would come first but you had arrived a little later than planned due to traffic and now everything was off schedule.

Shawn goes out and the fans in the q&a scream and greet him. You take a seat behind curtain that is put up as a backdrop in the front area where Shawn sits. You open up your laptop and start working on the checklist for the show tonight while also looking up local gyms for Shawn while he's in town.

Twenty minutes pass and you hear Shawn say your name. You pull out your headphones and listen to what he's saying, wondering what the question was. He just wants a bottle of water and you grab one off a cart nearby.

You don't think anything of it when you walk out in front of everyone to hand him his water. You've done it a hundred times. You don't realize that you've really messed up until the fans are awwing and suddenly asking questions over each other.

“Did you guys get married for real?”

“How long have you been together?”

“Are you really his assistant?”  

Shawn sighs and you can see Jake who is off to the side next to you just shake his head. “I'm sorry, I didn't even think about it when I asked for water.”

“It's fine. Just act like everything is normal.” You grab his empty bottle and he pops open the top of the new one. “And don't answer any questions about me.”

“I promise I won't.”

You turn and walk away, giving a little wave to the fans as you go around the back again to take your place at your laptop on an amp box.

____________________

The next night you, Shawn and a couple of the guys go out to a bar near the hotel. It's a really upscale place, private too. It's nice being able to relax and just let loose the stress from the last few days and not have anyone recognize you for a few hours.

Drinks are flowing, music is playing, you are dancing with a couple people. It feels good. Someone's hands find your waist from behind and they pull you against their solid warm body. You stiffen up, not comfortable with the sudden contact.

“You smell really good.” Shawn murmurs against your hair. “Like really good.”

You relax, trusting him and no longer worrying about it being some stranger making a move. “I just washed my hair with my usual stuff.” You turn in his hold to face him and he drops his forehead against yours. His eyes are focused on you, a little glassy from alcohol and you wonder how many drinks he's had.

“You are so beautiful.” He smiles and closes his eyes. “You just...wow.”

“Shawn, you've had way too much.” You reach up and play with the curls at the back of his neck. You've had a few yourself. “I thought you weren't going to drink much because your next show is in three days.”

“I'll be fine.”

“It's not like you.”

“I just wanted to relax.” He leads you over to a lounge area with some couches and falls back on his ass, pulling you down on top of him.

You sit on his lap and he smiles at you like a cat who caught a canary. “What are you grinning about?”

“You.” He runs his hand up your back and you loop your arm around the back of his neck. “I wanna kiss you.” He leans up so he's face to face with you. “I want to kiss you all over.”

“Why?”

“Because I want to kiss my wife.” He grins.

You roll your eyes. “I'm not your wife doofus.”

He leans in closer and bumps his nose with yours, breath ghosting over your lips. You're too drunk to handle this right now. Everything in you wants him and it's so hard to say no. You've kissed before but it wasn't like this, well, it was. You were drunk then too but it wasn't in public and with speculation of being married hanging in the air.

“This is a bad idea,” you whisper, eyes going to his pink lips and he shakes his head slightly. “Yes it is.”

“Stop talking.” He leans in and kisses you, hands going to your hair as he licks into your mouth. You take a deep breath and re-position yourself so you're straddling his thighs. He drops one hand to your waist and you feel like you just can't get enough. You can't seem to break away from him as he kisses you better than anyone you've ever been with. You know the two of you will end up going back to the hotel together, there was absolutely no doubt about that at this point. It's just a matter of how far this was going to go.

____________________

The next morning you wake up and it's like deja vu. Shawn's arm is across your stomach and your head hurts. Only this time you remember the night before. You remember walking with Shawn back to the hotel and making out in the elevator. Fumbling with his key card to get his room open. And then watching him literally collapse on the bed and pass out. You knew he'd had way too much.

“Morning,” you says softly, running your hand through his hair. He rubs his face into his pillow and groans at the morning light. “Hungover?”

“Very. My head is throbbing.”

“Let me help.” You sit up and guide him to lay his head on a pillow you pull over onto your lap. You massage your fingers into his temples and he groans softly.

“You're the best.”

“Mmhmm.” You massage over his eyes and cheeks and he just let's his jaw go slack. He's so soft like this, trusting in you completely. The last few days have been a wild ride and gone farther than your professional relationship with him should go. It's like since finding out you got hitched by the Elvis impersonator, all inhibitions were gone. The line between coworker and relationship was getting blurrier by the second and you have to redraw it before it is too late.

“You're a really good kisser.” Shawn mumbles, smiling to himself.

“So you remember some of last night?”

“Mmm yeah.” He opens his eyes and you stop rubbing his temples. “You can't deny that there's something more between us.”

“I can't, but there shouldn't be.” You return to rubbing and go down around the back of his neck eliciting a soft moan from him. “I'm your assistant first and foremost. We need to remember that.”

“Yeah.” He says softly, closing his eyes again. You know he isn't going to cave that easily. It's not like him to drop a subject just like that but you know he doesn't want to argue or anything with his head killing him. And that's just fine.

____________________

Shawn wraps his arms around you from behind and walks with his head on your shoulder. "What're you going to get?"

"I don't know, we came for you to get stuff."

"Yeah, but...I know you want something."

The two of you round the corner to the health care isle in the little 24 hour convenience store. The two of you had come down for snacks after Shawn said he needed some jerky and a Snickers. The funny thing is that those two things were your usual period cravings, and you happen to be on your period.

"Shawn, did you want to come here because of me?"

"What do you mean?" He pulls away and grabs a box of Tylenol off the shelf to toss into the bag you're carrying.

"Come on. Snickers and jerky? That's my craving snack."

Shawn grins sheepishly and rubs the back of his neck. "Am I that obvious?"

You roll your eyes. "You're transparent."

He walks over and puts his arm around your shoulders. "I just wanted to help. I saw you were having bad cramps earlier during rehearsal."

"Is that why you brought me tea from the catering cart?"

"Yeah."

You lean your head on his chest. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." He kisses your head. "Lets get those snacks and head back."

____________________

“You're still wearing the ring,” Shawn says, pointing to your hand curled around the clipboard you're holding. The second show this week is about to start and he's getting his in ears put in.

“So?”

“So? Why didn't you take it off? It's been like five days.”

You shrug and touch the little rose gold band. “It's pretty. I guess I didn't notice.” You point at his hand and he has one of his gold bands around his ring finger still too. “What's your excuse?”

Shawn shrugs. “I guess I didn't notice.”

You narrow your eyes at him and he grins. “Maybe you want to be married to me.”

“Maybe you do too.”

“In your dreams.”

“I've had a lot of dreams come true y'know.” Shawn laughs and goes to the side stage to get ready to go on. You follow him over and touch his arm gently. “Hmm?”

“I forgot to tell you to have a good show.”

He leans over and kisses your cheek, making your heart race. “Always do.”

“Pinkies for luck?”

Shawn hooks his pinky with yours and the rings click together, making him grin. You pull away and run your hand over his hair to fluff it up as the band starts playing his intro. He keeps smiling at you and walks out on to stage, bringing his mic up to greet everyone in the arena. You twist the ring around on your finger and it sends an ache through your chest. Why hadn't you taken it off?

____________________

The show is going great and you are beaming at him the whole time. He keeps doing this thing where he looks over at you and you try to keep out of view so people don't know what he's looking at. Connor asks if you'll follow him during Bad Reputation because he doesn't want to hit anything while he watches the camera screen. You've done it several times and you know all you have to do is literally walk behind him and tell him if he's going to hit an amp or something.

Zubin and Shawn are going to town on the guitar when it happens. You're following Connor but he's walking too quick, your eyes are on Shawn as he does a little grabby hand wave at you and you trip on a set of cables sticking out off the light box at the base of the stage. You go sprawling, scraping your knees on the hard concrete floor of the arena.

“Fucking shit!” you yell as you turn over and dust yourself off. Your jeans are torn in the knees and there's blood starting to stain on the left one.

Suddenly Shawn is by your side, guitar on his back as he kneels down beside you. “Are you okay? I saw you go down behind Connor.”

“What're you doing!? Get back up there!”

“It's fine Zubin is doing his thing.” Shawn puts an arm behind your back and the other under knees, lifting you up bridal style. “Ah shit your knee is bleeding.”

“Put me down. I'm fine.”

“No you're not! Look at your knee!”

You glance down and yeah your jeans were pretty much destroyed by the big bloody patch. It was starting to ache too, a dull throb right over your knee cap. “You're really not helping with the rumors right now y'know.”

“I really don't care.” Shawn places you gently on an equipment box backstage as Jake and one of the stage hands come over with a first aid kit.

“I'll be fine. Go back out there.” He starts to protest and you grab his face and force him to look at you. “Leave me and go do the show.”

Shawn leans in and kisses your lips quickly before turning and running back out on stage. Your heart stops and you are left in a stunned state, just gawking off at the stage. Did he really just kiss you? What the hell? He...you weren't...fuck.

“Hey, hello!” The stage hand, Nick, waves his hand in your face. “I can't clean it with your jeans on. Can we go to the catering room or something and have you take them off?”

“Yeah....yeah sure.” You bring your focus back to your knee and as you try to stand up on it, you wobble. Nick supports you as you head for the inner concourse and Jake stays behind.

“I'll tell him where you are when he gets done, don't worry,” Jake says with a smile. You know he seen the kiss, hell, anyone in the vicinity saw it. Shawn was not making this easy.  

As soon as the show ends Shawn is in the catering room with you. He's pretty sweaty when he comes in but you don't really care because he's got eyes for no one but you. He kneels down beside you and cradles your knee in his big hands, fingers ghosting over the gauze wrapped skin.

“You had to cut your jeans?” He asks, sliding his hand over your thigh where your jeans are cut off just over the wound.

“Yeah. I couldn't get my jeans off and they were already ruined.”

“Let me carry you to the car.”

“Shawn I can walk. It's not that bad now.”

He gives you a hard look. “You're hurt.”

“It's just a scraped knee.”

“Please, let me carry you. You're my w- it's my fault. If you hadn't been watching me wave at you, you wouldn't have tripped.”

You sigh, defeated. “I'm not going to change your mind am I?”

“Nope.” Shawn gets up and picks you up bridal style again, holding you close to his chest. You can smell his shampoo from his damp hair, curls falling in his face. “Let's go, I'll have one of the guys bring my stuff.”

“I need my bag.”

Shawn leans down and you grab your backpack off the couch you were sitting on. With that he carries you alongside Jake as he heads for the cars out back.

The second you get to the doors you see a bunch of fans waiting around to hopefully get a picture with Shawn beyond the security fence. The fans start screaming as soon as he walks out in the open carrying you toward the car. They’re waving and calling out both of your names as camera flashes go off.

“You can go ahead and take pictures.” You say to Shawn and he shakes his head. “Seriously, just drop me off in the car. I'll wait.”

“No. I want to go back to the hotel and shower and relax with you. Besides they've got their pictures.” He grins.

“Shawn.” You touch his cheek and he leans into your hand. “Please. I know you want to go say hi.”

“I do, but I really want to relax too.” Jake opens the door for Shawn and he lowers you to your feet and helps you into the car. “And relaxing comes first today.”

____________________

“Hey, are you feeling up to going out?”

You raise your eyebrows and he smiles sheepishly, knowing that you're not supposed to be seen together alone until the whole marriage thing blows over, but you're still his friend and assistant and honestly that concept of hiding it had gone out the window days ago. “Like...where?”

“Ed's in town. He texted me and asked if I want to hang out and see the show tonight.”

“Sure. Anyone else going?”

“I think Brian is gonna go.”

“What time?”

“Around seven.”

“I'll see you then.”

The concert is loud as hell, just like Shawn's are. You're stood in a private section with a few other people from Ed's crew and it's just you and Shawn. Brian didn't ever show up, and honestly you think Shawn didn't actually invite him.

Nearly forty minutes pass and Ed ends castle on the hill and starts up the chords to Perfect, his final song on the set list. Shawn wraps his arms around you from behind and you look up at him.

“I found a love, for me...” Shawn sings along softly with Ed.

“You planned this didn't you?”

“Planned what?”

“Being here together and without Brian. This is a date, isn't it?”

Shawn rolls his eyes. “A date? Really? We're just seeing Ed.”

“A concert can be a date y'know.”

“Shh.” Shawn lays his chin on your head and starts humming along to the song. The arena is dark and everyone has their phones out, swaying along to the song. It's beautiful. “Dancing in the dark, with you between my arms.” He sings softly against your head and you hold onto his arms now wrapped around your shoulders.

You take his hand and he turns you around, stepping back and grinning at you. He keeps singing as he slow dances with you, swinging you out and bringing you close in time with the music. “You're ridiculous,” you laugh and he just holds you against him.

“You love it,” he says quietly, turning you around once more and pulls you back against his chest. “And you look perfect...tonight.”

The song comes to an end and you hold Shawn's hands in yours. He kisses the side of your head and you're absolutely gone for him. He's knows it. You know it. The whole damn world probably knows it by now. ____________________

“Where's my notebook?”

“In the suitcase.” You point to his bulky black bag. “Outer pocket.”

Shawn digs into the bag and brings it out, taking a seat on the edge of the bed and writing furiously. You learned ages ago not to bother asking what was in that little journal. You know usually it's lyrics or little bits or inspiration. You never read it, no matter how many times he has you carry it in your bag, you never ever open that book.

“We've got to get going Shawn. Can you write in the car?”

“No.”

You drag his bag off the bed and over to the door. Yours is already there waiting, you had brought it over to save you from grabbing it later after helping Shawn get everything together.

“The plane won't wait.”

Shawn looks up and rolls his eyes. “Just a moment.”

“Alright.” You lean against the door and close your eyes. You're exhausted, the concert with Ed had ended up going until around nine and then visiting lasted until well after midnight. Every time Shawn and Ed got together it was like a recording session. The two were definitely of the same bunch. Now you had a six hour flight to get on back to Toronto.

“I’m ready.” Shawn whispers in your ear and your eyes fly open and you jump, making him laugh. “Let's go home.”

You swat at his chest and he grabs his bag handle. “You're such a turd.”

“I just like teasing you. Come on.”

The two of you head down to the lobby to meet Andrew and Brian and the rest of the crew. “So, what're you writing in that book?”

“Curious?”

“Well yeah, that's why I'm asking. I know usually you don't tell anyone. You've just seemed very engrossed in it lately.”

“I've been writing lyrics. I want to meet up with Teddy and see if we can't get something together. I've just...got this feeling and I want to put it into words.”

You round the corner to the lobby and Andrew looks up from his phone. “About time you two.”

“Leave the love birds alone, don't you know, they're newlyweds.” Brian teases, dragging his suitcase around behind the two of you toward the doors.

“Fuck off Brian!” Shawn yells and you elbow him for yelling in the lobby.

The rest of the trip home goes smoothly, you sleep on the plane with Shawn leaning against you and it's possibly the best sleep you've had in a few days. Landing back in Toronto is a bit annoying, as fans have come to meet you and Shawn at the airport like usual. Only now they're rowdier than ever due to the news about your alleged marriage.

"Don't pay attention to any of it." Shawn says, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and staring down at your phone. You've just arrived at his apartment and you'll be leaving tomorrow to go to your own place in New York. "We'll just lay low and then in a few weeks it'll all be over."

"Yeah I guess. How exactly do we convince fans we aren't hitched?"

"Probably should take off the rings."

You pocket your phone and hold your hand out in front of you. Honestly you've grown accustomed to the little ring on your finger. It fits so comfortably.

“Maybe being married isn't such a bad thing.”

You look up from your hand to where Shawn is now across the bedroom lying on the bed on his stomach. “What?”

“I mean, aren't we already kind of married?”

“No?”

“Think about it. You know more about me than anyone. You can read me like an open book. We're always together, I trust you more than anyone and we definitely have chemistry. We have such a connection, it's insane. Maybe it's not such a bad idea.”

You close your eyes and sigh softly. “You cannot be serious. We can't be married. We just can't. I'm your assistant, not your wife.”

“Technically you're both right now.”

“Shawn. It wasn't a legal binding ceremony.”

He gets up and walks over to you, taking your hands in his. “Come on. You'd get so many benefits as my wife. You could come to awards shows with me, walk red carpets, be on my health care plan. I can also avoid the “when are you going to have a girlfriend?” conversations. I really don't see any downsides.”

“Really? No downsides? What about dating? What about falling in love and wanting to marry someone for real? I can do pretty much all that other stuff as your assistant if you want me to. None of it has to do with me being your wife or not. And why don't you have a girlfriend? You're like the most eligible bachelor in history. Rich, gorgeous, young and talented. What's the deal?”

“You know why I don't. Besides I don't want to marry someone else.”

“What? Are you kidding me? Why the hell would you want to marry me in the first place? And on that note, no, I don't know why you don't have a girlfriend, besides being on tour and stuff.”

“You really don't get it do you?”

“For the love of God, why can't you stop talking in riddles for like five minutes?”

“It’s because I'm in love with you.”

Your heart stops. He doesn't mean it like that. He can't. He isn't allowed to. No. He can't. You didn't want to hear those actual words, it made it all too real.

“Shawn, I think you really need to think about that. You can't just say that lightly.”

“I have thought about it.” He walks you over to the couch just past the doorway into the living room. “It's all I think about all the time. I've wanted to tell you for the last three years but how do you tell your assistant that sort of thing? And I wanted to be sure you felt the same, or you at least had an interest in me. You're hard to read though. I could never figure out what you were thinking until this last year, hell, the last few weeks when I realized you've been holding back.”

“Shawn... I-I don't know.”

He takes your hand and threads his fingers between yours. “Don't hold back. Do you want to be with me?”

“I mean, yeah, of course. More than anything Shawn, but...we can't.”

“We can. We absolutely can.”

"But my job and the fans...it's a lot to handle."

"And yet we've been doing it for the last week basically."

“I...I should go.” You pull your hand away and stand. You grab your bag and head for the door. There isn't really anywhere to go besides your place. The second you get out the front doors you call a cab. It wasn't as if you didn't feel the same way about him, because you did. It's just...it would never work. If you mixed your job with your relationship it could end badly. That's what you've been telling yourself anyway. There's a line, a very clear line, and you can't bring yourself to cross it...though you've definitely been bending over it a bit. Well, maybe a lot.

____________________

The sun is just starting to set as you take your seat on a plane flying to New York. You're alone, carry-on bag in the compartment over your seat. You called and talked to Andrew about what happened. He was fine with it, in fact he'd rather Shawn be with you then deal with bringing a whole new person into the picture, but you still don't think it's for the best. Four years, four long amazing years and just like that you find yourself out of a job and heading back to your hometown.

You didn't say goodbye to Shawn. You couldn't. The next time you see him will be...well, no, you don't know when that might be. You lean your head back and fight the tears welling up in the corners of your eyes. You want to stay, you do, but you can't hurt Shawn if things go bad or just don't work out. The stress and tension that would put on your professional relationship would be too much. You won't break his heart, you just won't.

You put on your headphones, lean your head back and put on a sleep mask. If you just tuned it out you would be fine. Minutes pass and you feel the plane start to move, taxiing to the runway for take off. You feel your nerves getting the best of you, hand curled around the end of the arm rest. You never flew alone, you always flew with Shawn.

A hand covers yours and you jump, jerking away. You pull your sleep mask off to see who the hell thought it was okay to touch you. Your heart drops when you see Shawn in the seat beside you.

“What the hell are you doing?” He asks, irritation evident in his voice.  

“I'm going home.”

“You're running away.”

“I'm not. It's for the best.”

“The best for who?.”

You look away and clench your jaw. “You don't get it Shawn.”

He reaches over and turns your head to look at him. “No, you don't get it. You are running away because you're scared. You're scared to admit that we have something special because you're afraid it won't work out. But let me tell you what, you've seen me at my worst and my best and I've seen you in both lights as well. I think you know just as well as I do that we're meant to be together.”

“But what if it doesn't work out?”

“And what if it does? You can't try and take the safe route every time. There is nothing about our relationship that says it won't work. Please, do you know how hard it was to be told that you quit all of a sudden? That after spending a good part of four years together, you were just going to walk out of my life? Do you know how bad that hurt?”

“I just thought it'd be easier. I didn't want to hurt you.”

Shawn pushes up the arm rest and scoots closer to you. “Nothing is going to be easy. It never is.” He grabs your hand and threads his fingers between yours. “Please don't leave. You're my best friend. You don't want to hurt me but this, leaving, is going to kill me.”

“How'd you find me?"

"You always fly Delta when you go home. I just checked for a flight to New York and got a ticket. It doesn't matter."

You sigh and lean your head on his shoulder. "You really want to do this?"

"Yes. And we don't have to be married, we can just date. I just want you in my life, please."

"I want you in mine too." You hold his face and he tilts your head up to kiss you gently. "I suppose we're just a little backwards on all this, getting married and then dating."

"I guess this is where we start then."

You smile and he kisses you again, and again and again.

_____________________

Three months later

"Babe, did you get the email from Teddy about the song?" Shawn asks as he pulls on a suit jacket.

You glance over at his stylist who's holding up two shirts to the jacket. Shawn is standing there with his arms out like a dork while she works her magic. "I haven't gotten any emails from her. I have one from Connor though?"

"What's Connor sent? It must be a big file if he can't text it."

"Let me open it." You click the link and it opens a video in the media player on your laptop. The playback opens with you sitting on Shawn's shoulders at capital summertime ball, the moment Shawn had on his lock screen photo. From there it cuts to you and Shawn backstage playing slaps before a show and him squealing every time you faked him out. Then it's the two of you sharing a strawberry shake from McDonald's. You remember that day, he said he didn't want anything and ended up stealing half of your order.  

"What is it?" Shawn asks, sliding off the suit jacket and walking over to lean on the back of the couch.

On the screen you and Shawn pose like goofballs in his new merch for the tour. The two of you sleeping on a couch backstage at some event. Shawn putting his jacket over your shoulders during a late night video shoot. Then there is recently, the two of you in the back of the car when he asked for his notebook. You can see that Shawn is stealing glances as he writes, something you hadn't noticed at the time. There's footage of Shawn at the concert jumping off stage to pick you up after you tripped. And finally, the last little bit is when the two of you were boarding the plane home and you grab Shawn's hand as you walk through the boarding tunnel.

"Wow..." You laugh softly, covering your mouth. "We're so transparent."

"Connor...he really did that." Shawn leans over and kisses your cheek. "I guess everyone knew we were together before we did."

"Yeah. Obviously."

"I'm going to have Teddy send you a copy of the new song." He turns back to his stylist and she holds out his shirt she's chosen. "I want you to listen to it tonight and tell me what you think."

"This is the song you've been keeping top secret for the last month?"

He grins sheepishly. "Yes, I promise it's worth it."

"Your songs are always worth it. I'm pretty sure you've never written a bad song."

"You're so sweet."

"Only to you."

_____________________

Shawn goes out to sit at some awards show and you stay behind in the green room. You've had enough with award shows in the last few years. They're usually too loud and full of cringey dialogue. You put in your head phones and press play on the file that Teddy sent to you. She didn't send any explanation other than a little winking smiley face and honestly you're suspicious. Shawn has never kept a song from you before.

"Put my heart on the line so many times, but when I'm with you I know I'll be fine. I'm falling, falling in love with you. Can't stop this feeling I know it's true."

Your eyes go wide as you realize this song is definitely about you. "Oh my God. Shawn..." You laugh to yourself as you begin to tear up. It's catchy and touching and...how dare he.

You finish the song and go to find him out in the crowded ballroom. You make your way through the room full of people and find his spot empty near the front next to Ed and his wife.

"Where is Shawn?" You ask Ed and he points toward the doors you came through saying he got up a few minutes ago.

You turn and double back to see if he's in the bathroom but there is absolutely no one in the halls.

"Honey, what're you doing?" Shawn laughs, and you turn to see him walking out of the green room. "I thought you wanted to chill in the back, I came to see how you were doing."

You walk up to him and he puts his arms around you. "You wrote a song about me."

"Yes I did."

"Everyone is going to know."

Shawn grins and runs his hand up your back. "Yes they will."

"A song!"

"Yes. You inspire me, I couldn't not write something about how I've felt for ages. Teddy helped me make it into something amazing. I'm really excited to release it."

You lay your hand on his cheek and he leans into it. "You're lucky I love you."

He kisses you softly and smiles. "What're you doing later?"

"Going to the after party with you?"

"Yeah, well I heard there's a wedding going on here tomorrow. Maybe the officiator will be around."

"Shawn."

"Maybe I should make you a legal Canadian citizen this time around." He grins and you narrow your eyes at him. "What do you think?"

"I think you're soft."

He slides his hand into yours and brings it up to kiss your joined hands. "It's been almost three and a half months and you haven't taken off my ring."

You flush and look away. "Yeah well...it's nice."

"Mmhmm."

"Okay, yeah...I want to be more than your girlfriend." You smile and look up at him. "I've wanted it for ages, but isn't it a little fast?"

"I don't think building up to this for three years is fast."

"You're right...I've just been thinking about it as the last few months but it has been years hasn't it?" You chuckle and shake your head. "Are you proposing to me then?"

"Yes." He drops down on one knee and reaches into his jacket pocket. "Will you be my wife, my assistant and my best friend?"

"You...have a ring on you?"

"Yeah I...I got it a while back." He looks at the ring and up at you. "I've just been carrying it around and waiting for the right moment to give it to you."

"You're such a sap."

"Yeah but, you already knew that. So, tell me, will you be my everything?"

You slide off Shawn's ring and pick up the ring from its box and slide it over your ring finger. "Yes. Yes I will."

Shawn stands and cups your face, kissing you softly. "I love you."

"I love you too."

The end.

__________________

Thank you so much for reading! Please reblog if you read and if you enjoyed it. 

Shout out to @shawnm521 for help and inspiration with this one, you are seriously the ultimate muse and I couldn’t be more grateful. 

Please let me know what you think, what your favorite parts are and more via ask, reblog, reply or message. Thank you again!

-A

[kevystel]

Hope you're doing well and hydrating! If you don't mind, might you have you any headcanons on which Oxford college Jon Archivist Sims went to?

Y E S MY TIME HAS COME

thank you for this ask, anon!!! be warned: these opinions all come from a happily biased standpoint

ok so we know georgie and jon met at uni, and we know georgie went to balliol, so jon could have gone to balliol too. but that’s boring. so my friend and i talked about this a while back and we agreed they Have to have met at plush, oxford’s LGBTQ+ nightclub (old plush not new plush) (old plush near park end, with the stripper pole and nicer bouncers and generally better ambience) (UGH I MISS OLD PLUSH), and jon’s been on the pole. i don’t care how stuffy he is. everyone has been on the stripper pole. jon was a theatre kid, of course he’s been on the pole. he was on the pole, ok, and slipped and georgie caught him and they nearly knocked over the shirtless lad in booty shorts with a giant PLUSH tramp stamp who walks around the dancefloor every tuesday night selling £1 jaegerbombs and poppers off a tray, and thus began oxford’s most powerful fictional bi bond.

anyway, sorry, that was off-topic. look there are too many oxford colleges and the conclusions my friend and i reached (we are both from the same college) (please don’t guess which one) are based solely on college VIBES. maybe inaccurate vibes, but they are strongly held gut feelings and i invite any offended members of those colleges to fight me (please don’t, i’m very unfit). we both wanted jon to have gone to ours, of course, but sadly he doesn’t have the Vibes. she wanted merton (partly undeserved reputation for being a very studious college) and while my brain accepts that logically, my gut disagrees. somerville? artsy, located in jericho, we do love somerville but jon is really not cool enough to be in jericho. st. peter’s is a shout, he does have st. peter’s energy. friend suggested st. hugh’s because it’s notoriously out of the way, and lincoln for being near (but not too near) georgie’s balliol. however, st. hugh’s is too far from plush (even if you don’t like going out — and i maintain that early 30s jon might be a cardigan grandpa but 18-to-early-20s jon, ace biromantic theatre nerd, Must have been a very specific brand of oxford twink — so much of oxford’s student queer life is centred on plush that you’ll probably try it at least once. i’m still in the I Will Not Go Out Unless It’s Plush camp), and lincoln has a great library, therefore bad-at-library-science jarchivist sims does not vibe.

at last we settled on magdalen, big college on high street with a deer park and a bridge and fancy school both named after it nearby, seen as academically good and prestigious but not like balliol where georgie definitely fistfought a tory on the front quad. (jon and georgie going to port n policy nights for the cheap port and opportunities to beat up oxford tories? yes please. do note i have never attended port n policy.....the lib dems’ spirited discussions, on the other hand........) it’s huge. it’s pretty. it’s serious (my college is Not, and i love the stupid place and wouldn’t have it any other way). it just has jon vibes, ok, and he would appreciate the may day tradition of staying up all night and showing up to magdalen bridge — hungover, still covered in glitter — at 6am to hear magdalen’s choir sing from the top of the tower. i am very sorry this response got so terribly long. no i do not take constructive criticism. jon archivist ‘ace bicon’ sims went to magdalen college, oxford until/unless jonny sims says otherwise

[wonderwomanfantasy]

Ficmas day one

Mistletoe and Tamaki 

“I think you went a little overboard Mirio,” Tamaki said looking at the dorm room. every square inch had been covered in Christmas decorations there wasn’t an inch of the room that wasn’t covered in garland or tensile. an insanely big Pinetree dominated the center of the room spinning and glittering like a disco ball. Tamaki wasn’t even sure how Mirio had gotten such a big tree in. 

“no I think this is the right amount,” Mirio said offhandedly his attention on the pine tree-shaped air fresheners he was hanging from the ceiling. 

“It’s December first!” Tamaki protested before he could say more on the issue  Nejire entered the room grinning ear from ear. 

“Okay, all the Mistletoe is hung up, what next?” she asked excitedly. Tamaki felt his heart drop at the thought of Mistletoe. he turned around and saw that in all the chaos he had overlooked the little plant hungover every door frame.

“N-No,” he muttered more to himself. His heart raced at the thought of accidentally getting caught under there with someone, he felt like he was going to be sick. 

“W-we shouldn’t have Mistletoe up, it’s inappropriate for students our age and uhm-,” he tried weakly. they both ignored him.

“I thought you would have liked the Mistletoe Tamaki, after all, how nice would it be if you and (y/n) got stuck together?” Nejire teased. if it was possible Tamaki's heart sunk lower in his stomach. he could only imagine the disgusted look you would give him if he tried to kiss you and how you would call him a pervert for using the plant as an excuse. Or even worse, some other guy getting to kiss you because of the dumb tradition. 

“take it down, please,” he begged

“you can take down one of the mistletoe,” Mirio conceded. Tamaki walked away headed towards his own room, he felt like he needed to lie down. he saw that Nejire had hung mistletoe over each of the bedroom doors, which only worsened his mood. He passed your door on the way to his room anyway he might as well take down his one permitted Mistletoe. 

He reached up, his long fingers closing around the plant and the moment he plucked it from the frame, the door opened and you walked right into his chest. you hadn’t been going fast so you weren’t hurt but the collision was enough to send Tamaki spluttering into apologies.

“It’s alright Tamaki!” you assured, “but, what were you doing outside my door, did you need something?” you asked once he had calmed down a little. he quickly explained that Mirio and Nejire had gone crazy with mistletoe, and he was doing damage control by taking some of them down. He didn’t mention that he was taking yours down specifically because he didn’t want some perv ambushing you first thing in the morning.

“oh that’s so sweet of you Tamaki!” you chirped delicately taking the small flower from him. he couldn’t help but jump a little when your fingertip grazed his palm, he really was pathetic. 

“But, I like it, I think it’s cute,” you said reattaching it to the door frame “plus it means I get to do this-” and with that, you leaned up and kissed him on the cheek.  he let out a squeak as the blood rushed to his head. his face buzzed where your lips had touched him. He felt like he could drop dead right then and there. 

“sorry that was a bit forward wasn’t it?” you asked sheepishly a blush coloring your own cheeks. 

“No! it just surprised me,” he shouted a little too loudly making you jump. maybe mistletoe wasn’t so bad.

[dragonrajafanfiction]

Dragon Dancer IV: A Lost Love

I looked into Mingfei’s face. He looked exhausted, yet the way his gentle, tearful smile softened his eyes, the way his perfectly cut hair lay curled and feathered against his broad shoulders, and the way the single blue jewel glittered in his ear impressed me.

He was older, handsomer. His arms were stronger under my hands. I tilted my head. “You’ve really changed.”

“You too.” His eyes shifted over my shoulder and I followed his gaze to the crib. 

“Do you want to hold her?” I asked.

“Do you mind?”

I smiled. It felt so good to truly smile after months of misery. I picked up the sleeping Ru’yi and brought her to Mingfei.

“She’s... she’s really beautiful.” he said, cradling her in his arms. He looked up at me, distress returning to his eyes. “Do you know what... what happened to Johann?”

I shook my head. “No. I was video chatting with him on Christmas Eve. His mission was done. We were just... talking about our future when the signal cut. An hour later... I...”

I turned to the room behind me. “The room didn’t look like this before. It was full of wall murals that Johann painted himself. But after he was gone, the murals disappeared. Now the room is... just pink.”

I turned my face up to Mingfei. “And then I heard the draconic whispers. I was held down. Without Johann, my daughter couldn’t exist. I think whatever did this... was trying to kill her.”

“Has it come back since?” 

“No. I wish it did so I can kill it!” I hissed, baring my teeth. “And prove to everyone that I’m not insane!” I crossed my arms.

Mingfei grumbled. “Yeah, to be honest I started doubting my sanity within a few hours. I’m... surprised you didn’t start believing you made up Johann Chu after being here alone.”

“It was undeniable. They tried to say we got married.”

“Wait... marry?” Mingfei’s eyes widened. 

I tilted my head. “The ring on your finger?”

“I thought that was just decoration. We’re married?!” He held up his hand in horror.

I walked out to the darkened living room and he followed me. I showed him the picture of our wedding.

He looked down at me. “What about Erii...?” He whispered.

“I... I don’t know. Can you text her?”

He pulled his phone from his pocket and scrolled through it. His eyes narrowed slightly. “Um... she’s... she’s not showing up in my contacts... wait there she is-...” He stopped again. He raised his eyes to me. “She... hasn’t sent me a message since... Japan.”

“What?!” My heart dropped in my chest. I walked over to took my child from him.

He sat on the couch, staring at the far wall, his face growing pale. 

“Let me... get you something to drink.”

It never occurred to me until now that if Mingfei had married me, something must have happened to Erii. The toys that they had sent me, the ones that were so lovingly labeled by the former gangster princess, had been completely missing under the tree after reality shifted.

That whole spiel I told Ernesto the Dance King, that I had saved Chime, that I sent him my blood, was something I remembered, but now, did those things actually happen?

I opened the refrigerator and grabbed the first thing I saw, a six pack of beer, and put it on the island.  I raised my eyes to him again. He leaned on his knees, his face in his hands.

I shifted my gaze away, whispering. “Oh my god...” 

I walked over to him with the beer and sat close to him leaning against him and rubbing his back. “Hey. Maybe she’s okay... Maybe you just didn’t end up together after Japan. It doesn’t mean she didn’t make it out. I didn’t feel the same terrible emptiness when it came to Chisei either. So I know he’s out there somewhere.”

I felt him shudder and when he looked at me his face was wet. I cracked open one of the cans and handed it to him. “Go on. Drink as much as you need to.”

Mingfei downed the beer, swallowing without pausing until not a drop was left. Then he reached for another, which I gave him. Within minutes, the six pack was empty and Mingfei was lying on the couch in a daze. I covered him in a blanket and turned out the light. I returned Ru’Yi to her crib and lay down in the bed, closing my eyes and focusing on Johann Chu’s face, his hair. 

What would he say to me in this moment? I stared at the empty space in the bed and tried to imagine him laying there, looking at me. He would feel so guilty.

I reached my hand across the space. “It’s not your fault. It’ll be okay. We’ll find you. We’ll bring you back.” I moved my hand around his imagined jaw line. “Go to sleep, Johann.”

The next morning, a hungover and depressed Mingfei struggled to eat the breakfast I made him. “I’m going to talk to Anjou. He’s S-ranked like us. Maybe he’ll know something.”

I put one hand on his shoulder. “Please keep me posted. I’m still not allowed to leave the house.”

“Even if you could...” He raised his eyes to me. “You have the baby to look after.”

I nodded. I watched as his eyes shifted and he sighed. 

“You need to go throw up?” I asked.

“A little. How did you know?”

“I know how you feel. The first... month, I think,” I poured him coffee in a carry out cup. “I threw up every day. It’s amazing how living in a reality that isn’t yours affects you.”

I followed him to the front door and helped him into his coat.

Mingfei lingered in the doorway. "Meixiu... there's something I want you to know before I leave." 

'Meixiu' -- the name that Chu Zihang gave me. He was the last person on Earth who remembered it. Until he came back from Brazil, I never heard it. Now every time I hear him say it, I felt a lump in my throat and I couldn't speak.

 "There... was a time when all this could have happened. I mean..." He added quickly. "I mean..." 

His eyes shifted to the side table next to the window. The morning light outside illuminated our wedding photo. 

"Anyway. I gave it up. I'm not taking it back." 

He returned his gaze to me. He stood there, unsure of what else to say. Then he turned his back to me. "I'm going to bring him back. I won't come back until I do." 

[headoverhiddles]

Universally Loathsome - Marilyn Manson x Reader

Synopsis: After his show at the Hard Rock in Orlando, you and your man put your complimentary Universal Studios park passes to good use. 

Notes: I wrote this because Universal Florida is my happy place, and I need a pick me up right now lol. Also, this takes place right after this concert, so Heaven Upside Down era. 

His lazy drawl fills the Hard Rock Cafe arena, as the strobes go crazy.

"I love you beautiful motherfuckers so much," he points to the crowd, to a response of deafening cheers, "Florida's where it all started for me, and... I almost got arrested for indecent exposure in Jacksonville, which is... pretty close to here." More cheering. "So if any willing gentlemen in the crowd would like to come up here... and let me put my dick in their mouth..." The cheers grow. "...History can repeat itself." He grins, stumbling around and leaning on the mic stand. "I wonder what would happen if I... oops," he pops the top button of his vest open. "Oh no, I can't believe I just showed you all my tits, ahh, I'm such a slut..."

The crowd is going absolutely insane, and he winks over to you suggestively. You watch your boyfriend, trying to hold in your giggles. He's in what he likes to call rascal mode tonight, you can tell. And good thing-- you two roped complimentary passes inside the theme park for the rest of the night to celebrate, so he can let out all this energy after the show. The regular park closes in a half an hour, horror nights too, with it being Halloween, but the extra hour is just for you two, paid for well no doubt.

After Mar's done and the strobes distract the audience enough for him to bound off stage, he runs into your open arms. After you hug your sweaty man, he picks you up, spinning you around and smiling like a big kid.

"Let's go play." 

"Shower first," you give him a stern look. He nods, resigning himself to the fact that he's really gross and covered in sticky glitter makeup.

You hang out backstage as he gets cleaned up, saying goodnight to some of the roadies. You check social media and search for this concert, as you do sometimes just for fun, and see people already sharing photos they'd taken of Marilyn screaming or wading into the crowd.

You snort to yourself, and save one that looks right up his nostril. Beautiful angle, and perfect for blackmail when he's being a dick.

"Let's do this."

You turn, and see him dressed in a hoodie that reminds you of the full body zip from his High End Of Low days.

"I know what you're thinking, and no, this is not the depression hoodie," he sticks a finger in your face and wags it. "I burned that a long time ago." You pretend to bite his finger, and take his arm.

Your bodyguards, who warily agreed to leave the two of you alone once you get into the park, lead you down, out the back door of the hotel venue, and through a citywalk shortcut to the front gates of Universal Studios Orlando.

"I haven't been here since I was a teenager," you grin, listening to the entrance music and sighing from the nostalgia. "This has always been my happy place."

"I've literally never been here," he tells you, "We go to the one back home in LA, but I've never been to this one myself. I used to live here but I only ever wreaked havoc on Disney with Twiggy."

"Oh, Universal was spared?"

"Until now, yeah. So you'll have to be my tour guide here." He takes his sunglasses from his face, hands them off, and turns to his guards. "Okay, that's fine, we're fine."

"Sir, we really think--"

"We talked to the park operators, and there's like... nobody here right now, we're both fine," Marilyn insists, "Bye." So, you two are left alone as you walk toward the gates.

Your passes are scanned by an older woman who doesn't seem to recognize Marilyn, since his name on the pass is Brian. For the best. To your left, towers one of your favourite rides.

"The Rip Ride Rockit," Marilyn reads the sign, "Ooh. Ooh, I wanna do this. Fuckin cool looking."

"Bri, you get sick on roller coasters."

"I'm too drunk to be sick, the drunk sick makes me not motion sick."

"Well, glad to hear your body has a system," you sigh, and he takes your hand as you two run toward the lit up ride.

"You get to pick your song as you ride," he muses, "Motherfuckers should have my songs on here."

Because he likes to stir shit up and see what he can get away with, Marilyn uses a VIP lanyard with his face on it to get into the express lane.

"Uh..." the young employee hesitates, frowning, "Sir, this is a meet and greet for that concert, not for--" Marilyn puts his hood down, and the guy's eyes widen. He waves you both through, starstruck. 

"Whoever said you shouldn't use your fame to get stuff... probably wasn't even famous," Marilyn says, pulling you up the steps.

"What's the hurry?" you laugh, trying to keep up, "You're just gonna throw up all over me anyway."

"It's a music ride, that's very exciting to me," he says. You can't deny you've missed this ride too, so you keep up.

You're the only two on the roller coaster train as you both pull the bar over from the side to strap yourselves in. The employee working comes over to check, and gives a thumbs up to the operator.

"Give me a handjob," he giggles.

"No! I'm gonna rip your dick off if we do that on this!"

"Nah, that'd happen like... on the Mummy." Apparently he remembers what the Mummy is like in the LA Universal park, and he's not wrong. "Uh. Uh," he starts to snap his fingers as the ride goes up, "Yeah. Hell yeah."

"What song?" you laugh.

"Stronger, by my boy Kanye."

"He's a dickhead, you know."

"So am I, doesn't make my music any less amazing."

You smirk. You'd picked Stronger as well, anyway. 

After the ride, Marilyn hangs onto you, a little bit woozy. "That was a mistake."

"I told you."

"I don't listen, I'm a child, you know this. I don’t like the rides, but the rides like me."

You two walk through the park, past the San Francisco area of the water in the middle.

"This is nice. Just walking."

"Yeah," he says. "It's nice not to vomit." You rest your head on his shoulder, giggling.

You two do a few more rides-- he has way too much fun in Men in Black shooting at everything, and Simpsons becomes a favourite, even if the only part he could keep his eyes open for was the funny queue playing the episodes. He even takes some dark, creepy pictures with the employees in Diagon Alley, posing in his new Slytherin scarf he bought.

"Can this be used for sexy purposes?" he asks one of them, holding up a wand. The girls giggle, and you roll your eyes.

"Um. Wouldn't recommend it," one responds.

"On the other hand..." the second one shrugs, "It's magic. You could just make it into something that could be used for sexy times."

"I like the way this one thinks," Marilyn smirks. "(y/n), I'm gonna use this in you."

"Like hell you are.”

“Please?”

“You can use it to spank me.” You lean in to whisper. “It’s too thin to put it in.” 

Marilyn buys the wand just to make up for the trouble he's causing the poor employees.

You head out of Harry Potter world, and circle back around to do ET.

"I wanna do the Mummy again. And what about those big ones across the citywalk thing? Spiderman, he's cool. I wanna do his ride." 

"That's the other park. If you wanna deal with your manager having a meltdown by requesting another day here tomorrow, that's your call." He immediately takes out his phone, and you huff, feeling sorry for the guy, always having to rearrange flights last minute. 

"Yeah, hey. It's me," Marilyn drawls into the phone, "I need another day here tomorrow. No, I'm just... I'm gonna be really hungover. Lots of vodka and drugs and stuff. Yeah. Amphetamines, got my face in a big... yeah, really bad, I won't be able to fly tomorrow." His eyes light up like a kid in a candy store as he sees the Halloween Horror Nights 2018 tribute store. "Gotta go, I'm snorting coke off (y/n)'s tits. Cancel my flight!"

You both run in, and get shirts from inside-- yours is a Halloween 4: The Return of Michael Myers one, and his is a Killer Klowns from Outer Space one, with a little clown in boxing gloves on it that says 'Shorty's Boxing Gym: Knocking Blocks Off Since '88." He poses for a picture of the new shirt in front of an old horror movie poster, hands in his jacket pockets and doing his signature sneer. He posts it on his Instagram, captioning it: 

Next motherfucker's gonna get my metal. Pic📷: @(y/handle) #justustwoclowns #wannatussle #truelove #wehatelovewelovehate #happyhalloween #universalorlando #shooterjennings.

You head inside the Egyptian crypt that leads to the Mummy, listening to Brendan Fraser's fake interview about the strange things going on on set. 

"I met him once," Marilyn tells you, "He was scared of me, he thought I was flirting with him."

"I can see how he would. You're just overly affectionate," you pat his arm.

"And high as fuck, but I wasn't flirting with him. He's too much of a pretty boy for me." 

"Yet you still wanna fuck Johnny," you tease him, and he grins, unable to refute that.

You finally get to the loading area after Marilyn stumbles over four posts in the dark queue. The lady there squeals. She's a different one than the one working earlier, and she's obviously a fan.

"Sorry for her," her coworker says, "She's a huge fan of your stuff."

"Nah, it's cool," Marilyn offers a smile.

"I was at the concert, which is why I'm working late," she explains hyperactively, "God, you were soooo amazing!" Marilyn thanks her. She waves at you as well. "By the way, I see your pictures together on insta at shows and premieres and stuff, you two make a really cute couple. Goth icons!" You smile at the girl, and thank her and her coworker for working late for you two. An obligatory selfie later, you and Marilyn get into the ride, and start heading through the darkness. You get to the part where Imohtep's face appears and fire blows beside you.

"You say god," he mutters. "I say Say10."

You get off the ride, and you nearly lose your shit when you see the ride photo. You fall to the floor, and Marilyn looks up at the screen in inquiry.

"Oh my god."

"We're buying it!"

"Absolutely fucking not. Look at my chin!"

"I love your chins, baby."

"I only mentioned one, but thanks."

You dash over to the counter, ordering the picture in the biggest size. It's gold. In it, you've got one hand up happily, the other looped with Marilyn's, and you look generally normal, other than your hair blowing a little from the force of the acceleration. His eyes are glinting yellow from light reflection, so he looks legitimately possessed; he's got his chin pressed down into his neck folds, and his mouth is halfway open, like he just remembered something he wanted to say. It's the most awful picture of him you've ever seen, so naturally, it's getting framed at the house next to his lovely prosthetic limb collection.

"Mm, makes me wanna fuck you," you lick your lips, "Give it to me, baby, I wanna look into those sexy yellow eyes while you destroy my pussy."

"You're fucked up."

You nearly collapse in laughter again.

Despite the terribly candid ride picture, Marilyn decides he likes the Mummy a bit more than the Simpsons, and after riding it four more times without fail, he's nauseous as all hell (as are you) and done in for the night.

You hold hands, heading to the gates. "Hey. Want to stop at Ben and Jerry's on the way out?" you ask.

"Nah," he drawls, hand moving down to your ass and giving it a spank, "You're the only thing I wanna lick tonight." Even motion sick and half-way to hungover, he's still in rascal mode.

A car comes to pick you up, and some press follow you to the car for a bit, taking photos and asking Marilyn for comments on the park and the show until Marilyn wraps his Slytherin scarf around his face. He gets into the car with you, and rolls the window up. The paparazzi obviously saw the Instagram post.

That makes you think...

Messing around on your phone as you're driven back to the hotel, you giggle. Marilyn keeps looking over, but he's currently too nauseous still to speak. You giggle again, and send off what you'd just done.

"Happy Halloween," you grin, punching his shoulder playfully.

He looks at his buzzing phone, and snorts. His bad Mummy picture and stylish posing Instagram picture are side by side, with your accompanying text: "Get you a man who can do both." 

[hedwigstalons]

High Expectations - Ch5

Just a quick sketch today.  There were many other snapshots I would have liked to have drawn for this chapter but I need to build up the skills first.  Instead you will have to make do with Gordon feeling the effects of his celebrations and reaching for the aspirin.

Thanks as ever to @willow-salix​ for general cheerleading, confidence boosting and reading through as daft times of the night.

Earlier parts: One, Two, Three, Four

And for those that prefer to read on AO3

Chapter Five

The sound of his phone dragged Gordon out of a groggy sleep.  The first day in months, maybe years, when he hadn’t set an alarm and his phone had to ring right through the middle of his much needed rest.  The shrill tone sawed through his head and he screwed his eyes shut in an attempt to block out the sound.  

It didn’t work.

He breathed a sigh of relief as the ringing cut out.  His head was pounding and his throat felt curiously sticky.  The relief was short lived though as the phone started up again, each electronic trill stabbing into his brain like hot needles.  He fumbled for the device and blearily read the name on the screen.

Dad

He half threw, half dropped the device back onto the tiny bedside unit that was mostly taken up by a half empty bottle of something local.  He wasn’t too sure what the bottle contained, the only recognisable part of the label was an obscenely high ABV rating.  His head was telling him clearly that whatever was in the bottle it was a mistake he didn’t want to repeat any time soon.

The ringtone was replaced with the bleep of an incoming message.  Gordon made a second fumble for the device to read the text.

Dad: Call me in the next 3 minutes or I’m contacting security to look for you

Gordon looked at the time on his phone and sat up in a rush.  A sickening wave washed over him, partly from the realisation that he was late meeting his family and partly the after effects of whatever it was he had been drinking the previous night.  

Recollections of the previous night’s festivities came back in a hazy swirl.  Both the swimming and gymnastics events had reached their conclusion and the two contingents had come together to celebrate their medal haul.  Both squads had achieved glittering success.  Someone had ventured out into the wider city and come back supplied with a selection of drinks, one of which Gordon had evidently liberated and brought back to his room.  The coaches had turned a blind eye to the celebrations which had carried on into the early hours.

The bed covers next to him rustled exposing a mass of raven curls.  A finger was trailed down his chest and dark eyes blinked at him sleepily.

“What’s the matter, babe?  Come back here and keep me warm.”

The realisation that he wasn’t alone snapped Gordon’s senses back into action.  Tempting as it was to just sink back onto the narrow bed and curl up with whoever had found her way to his room Gordon knew better than to treat the message as an idle threat.  In precisely 3 minutes his father would be at the security desk for the Athlete’s Village and approximately 3 minutes after that one of the security personnel would come barging into his room.  

At least he had made it back to his own room.  Every room in the village was identical from the layout and furniture right through to the cheap print adorning the wall.  Thankfully there were enough personal effects lying round that marked the space out as his own territory.  The good luck card from Alan was in pride of place on the dresser, the grinning yellow smiley on the front a reminder of the blonde sibling who had become his biggest fan.  The rather more sedate offerings from the rest of the family were arranged behind.

First things first though; he needed to buy some time.  He picked his phone back up off the bedside unit and hit the speed dial button for his father.  The call connected before the first ring had finished and Gordon winced slightly and the abruptness of the answer.

“Gordon, where are you?  You were due out front ten minutes ago”

He tried to adopt a tone that suggested apologetic rather than hungover.

“Sorry Dad.  I was in the shower and lost track of time.”

There was a slight humpf down the line which showed his father was annoyed but not currently inclined to launch into a full blown reprimand for his lateness.  Gordon knew he was pressing his luck but he ploughed on.

“Um, one of the coaches wants see me quickly before I head out.  I’ll only be another 20 minutes tops.  I promise I’ll be with you as soon as possible.”

He closed the call before his father had time to protest.  It didn’t sit right to lie but he really needed to buy some time to shower for real.  At least he now had 20 minutes to get everything sorted out but the clock was most definitely ticking.  Crisis one was averted, or at least delayed.

He turned to his bedfellow.  He didn’t recognise her from swim camp so could only assume she was one of the gymnasts from the celebrations of the previous night.  Finding her there was not a massive surprise, he had been to enough high level competitions to know that the concluding night often led to a release of tension and pent up adrenalin in more ways than one.  The euphoria of success and, in the case of swimmers being in close proximity to barely covered bodies, led to various amounts of bed swapping once the medals were awarded.  The coaches tended to turn a blind eye.  It seemed like the gymnasts celebrated in a similar fashion.

“Mmm, a shower sounds good.  I hear you’re quite talented in the water.”  Her voice purred and the hand swirled lower down his chest.  Gordon felt the rush of blood to his groin where it pooled in an embarrassing fashion.

Unlike the swimmers who tended to make their way back to their rooms of their own accord it seemed that the gymnasts, or at least this particular one, did not observe the same niceties.  This was going to be awkward.

“Um, I’ve got to go and meet my family.  You need to go.”

“That’s it, Gordon?  You’re just throwing me out?”  Her tone had turned from sultry to venomous in an instant.  She evidently knew his name but he couldn’t honestly afford her the same courtesy.  Sasha maybe, or perhaps Sarah, he really didn’t know.  The last he remembered he had been getting close to the guy who competed in the parallel bars who had arms to die for and abs like a rack of eggs.  Evidently last night had taken a different course.  He wondered what had happened and whether he still had a chance with Mr Parallel Bars later that night.

He hung his head slightly, wishing the pounding behind his eyes would just stop.  “Look, I really need you to go.  I wouldn’t put it past my Dad to find his way up here and be waiting outside the door with a stopwatch.”

The dark eyes narrowed slightly and the lithe figure unfolded herself from under the duvet.  She was clad in a soft grey longline tee-shirt and Gordon got the distinct impression that was all she was wearing.  She bent neatly at the middle to scoop up the remainder of her clothes without bending at the knee.  The tee-shirt rode up, exposing a pair of pert buttocks directly in front of Gordon.  Definitely a gymnast and definitely not wearing anything else.  She slid on a pair of joggers and shoes, each movement was smooth and elegant to the extreme.  She turned as she reached the door and the look she shot Gordon could have killed but he was deliberately facing away, not meeting her eye.

With the room now his own Gordon rushed to get ready.  A quick dunk under the shower woke him up but couldn’t wash away the pain of the hangover.  At least the alcohol no longer seemed to be sweating out of his pores but he added a generous dab of cologne anyway.  Fresh clothes followed.  The celebration of the night before had evidently been rather heavy on the alcohol and the light through his window when he finally opened the curtains felt like it was burning his retinas.  He dug through his kit bag and unearthed a battered pack of painkillers, a couple of tablets were thrown down his throat chased by a large glass of water.  

His eyes swept the room.  The Athletes’ Village was meant to be off limits to anyone not competing but he wouldn’t put it past his father to use his influence to get a pass.  Alan was eager to take in every element of the experience and a visit to Gordon’s room was probably on the kid’s bucket list despite it looking like nothing more than the poor relation of a cheap hotel room.  The bottle of liquor was moved to the bottom of his kit bag ready to be given away later, the churning feeling in his stomach left him sorely tempted to sign the pledge and vow himself to a future life of total sobriety.   

A glint of foil wrappers in the waste bin caught his eye.  At least him and his gymnast had played safe courtesy of the supplies left by the Olympic Committee in every room.  Evidently the organisers of the Games were well aware of what athletes could get up to in their spare time with physical exertion not limited to the tracks and venues.  He packaged up the detritus of his celebratory fumble to be disposed of in one of the bins well away from his room.  Some parts of the Olympic experience did not need to be shared with little brothers, or the rest of his family for that matter.

He made a detour via the cafeteria to snag a carton of orange juice and a muesli bar from the breakfast buffet before heading for the exit of the Village.   A pair of aviators shoved hastily over bleary eyes before he left the dim confines of the building completed his ensemble.  Now he just needed to plaster on a cheery smile and get through a day with the family.  

He really hoped the painkillers started to do their job soon.

xoxoxox

Jeff stood at the entrance to the Athlete’s Village surrounded by four out of his five sons.  The fifth was evidently still inside the compound and was running late.  

The minutes ticked by.

Jeff Tracy was not a man who liked to be kept waiting.  His elder sons had soon learnt that tardiness was a trait that did not go unpunished.  Each in their turn had tested the limits to their father’s patience and found that the line did not bend; lateness resulted in a swift loss of privileges.  Having two phone calls divert to voicemail followed by the information that he was going to be kept waiting even longer would have seen Gordon grounded for at least a month had they been back at home.  As it was, it was the last day of the family trip to the Games and the only one they would get to spend with Gordon so he gritted his teeth and locked the parental sternness deep inside.

It was Alan who spotted Gordon first, his eyes eagerly glued on the entrance door to Gordon’s block.  The teen throbbed with excitement at seeing his hero of the hour.  If the family had hoped that a week of watching swimming, plus a few other events when Gordon wasn’t competing, would dull the youth’s enthusiasm they were sorely mistaken.

Gordon winced slightly as Alan barrelled up to him, nearly sending the orange juice flying.

“So, can I see it then?”

Gordon frowned slightly behind his shades.  The kid was far too cheerful for this time of the morning.

“Nice to see you too Alan.  Now, see what?”

“Your medal.  You did bring it down, right?”

“Sorry.  I didn’t think carrying a hunk of gold around all day would be a good idea.  It’s in the safe in my room.”

Alan’s face fell.  His brother had just won a real life gold medal and to hear he wasn’t going to get a chance to see it was like finding out Christmas had been cancelled.  You would have to have been of a different planet to not feel the disappointment radiating off him.  Gordon’s protective nature kicked in.

“Tell you what.  I’ll see if you can come up to my room later, before you go.  I’ll even let you wear it.”

As though a switch had been flicked Alan was back into full blown excitable mode, flinging a barrage of questions at Gordon in between giving his own edited highlights of the trip.  The energy radiated off him and Gordon tried to absorb some of the pure enthusiasm.  Alan in a good mood could steamroller over any other emotions in the vicinity.  He bounced.  It was a trait that had pulled many a brother out of the depths of despondency in the past; none of them wanted to let the kid down.  There was a natural instinct to protect their baby even if the baby was now shooting up in height and no longer the grubby toddler of the past.

By this point the others had started to congregate around Gordon, hanging back slightly until Alan had had his moment.  The bond between the two youngest was clear to see and the elder siblings didn’t want to intrude on the reunion.  Alan looked up to Gordon with barely concealed adoration and Gordon had an attitude that was almost paternal to the younger boy.  

Once Alan had paused for breath the others started stepping forward to offer their own congratulation in a mix of glowing words and hearty back slaps.

At last Jeff stepped forwards.

“You did good, Gordon.  So, what did your coach have to say?”  

Jeff’s eyes were steely.  Put on the spot Gordon dredged his mind for something convincing..

“He just wanted to let us know that there was no pool training for the rest of the games because water polo needs the slots but we still need to keep up with some gym work while we are here.”

“And that took twenty minutes?”  The tone was one of barely disguised scepticism, accompanied by a raised eyebrow, and Gordon squirmed slightly.  He decided to change the subject.

“Oh.  I just wanted to thank you guys for all coming.  It really meant a lot to have you up there on the balcony for every race.  How on earth did you manage to get the same seats every time?  I thought the tickets were a random allocation.”

“Not totally random.”  John spoke quietly from the back of the group.  “The algorithms were pretty easy to figure out.”

“You played the system?”

A nod and a slightly smug, self-satisfied smile.

 For every single heat there had been a cluster of Tracys in the same place on the balcony.  Left hand side, level with the end of the pool at the opposite end to the starting blocks.  Knowing that they were all there to support him, in easy eye line from his starting position, had given Gordon strength before each race.  No searching around needed, a quick glace up to the railing had been all he needed to help him get in the zone.  To find out that John had manipulated the system to ensure they could always be found in those same seats meant a lot.  

Seeing the family in those particular seats had an extra level of poignancy for Gordon.  From his earliest days of swimming lessons those were the seats his mother had always sat in to watch his class, often with John in tow as he was too young to be left at home.  As lessons progressed to competitions she had kept to the routine and always sought out those same seats until that fateful turning point in their lives when she couldn’t.  Evidently, under all the stresses of Harvard study, there was still a big brother that remembered those early days before Gordon had gained total mastery over the water and the reassurance he gained from knowing where to find a friendly face.  It was a level of effort and consideration Gordon rarely encountered now from his plus one in the pecking order.  

“Thanks John.  I mean it.”

“So what do you want to do now, golden boy?  This is your day to celebrate although it looks like you might have done a bit of that already.”  Scott ruffled Gordon’s hair in a way that did his tender head no favours.  He had witnessed and partaken in his fair share of the morning after and Gordon’s shades were fooling no one.  Gold medal or not, Scott had no compunctions about throwing his younger sibling under the metaphorical bus.  He received a scowl in return.  To Gordon’s eternal relief Jeff either didn’t pick up on the comment or was choosing to ignore it; he was not in the mood to be bawled out for underage drinking and the hangover was proving punishment enough.

“Maybe just some sightseeing.  I’ve really not had a chance to see anything of the complex.  Oh, and I want to eat something without having to check if the micronutrients fit with my plan.  You cannot believe how bored I am of protein shakes and vitamin drinks.”

The family moved off.  It might technically be Gordon’s day but Jeff was undoubtedly the one they all deferred to.  Each brother circled their father like moons around a planet.  It had been so long since they were last all together.  

Gordon was immensely grateful for Alan’s presence.  The excitable pup filled in any awkward silences and kept their father’s direct attention off of Gordon.  Even with the success of a gold medal win less than twenty-four hours behind him there was still an aura of disapproval at Gordon’s temerity for keeping everyone waiting although this gradually dissipated as the day wore on. 

Over lunch, a greasy burger of Gordon’s choosing that was so far removed from his usual meal plan as to be from a different galaxy, Jeff sat back and watched his five sons.  He couldn’t remember the last time they were all in one room.  Even Christmas was no longer a given what with Scott’s Air Force commitments.  

Age and circumstances had changed the dynamics but from oldest to youngest they were still brothers and the longer they spent in each other’s company the more Jeff saw glimpses of the children he remembered.  There was certainly more laughter than he had heard for a long time.  Alan stayed firmly attached to Gordon as though the last few weeks without him had been an eternity.  

None of them knew when next they would all be together again.  The family would be flying home that night but Gordon needed to stay on a few more days until the closing ceremony.  By the time he and the rest of Team USA returned Scott would be back with his squadron.  

For a few rare hours there was no school, work or training making their competing demands.  No business meeting.  No classes.  No Air Force issuing orders.  Just a family together, albeit one not used to spending time together any more.  

All too soon it was a family being ripped apart again by punishing schedules and varying commitments.  As Gordon watched everyone head off to the airport without him the gut-wrenching pang of being an outsider hit him.  He knew it was just circumstances that meant he was being left behind but for a moment he was left feeling very alone.  He knew it was probably just exhaustion making him feel maudlin.  He should be relishing the freedom of having a few days to himself rather than resenting his father for heading straight back to work.  He shouldn’t be feeling jealous of his brothers getting to spend time together without him.  He shouldn’t be worried if anyone was checking whether Alan was getting to bed at a reasonable time.

He headed back up to his room sorely tempted to drown his sorrows with the last of the liquor still hidden in his kit bag.

[animetrashlord-007]

M.I;; Chapter Two

Word Count;; 2.2k

Genre;; Fluff, Suggestive, Eventual Smut, Slowburn

Pairing;; Oikawa x Ushijima

Side Pairing;; Kuroo x Sugawara

Summary;;

Them college boys go to a party!

Published;; 05.15.17

Notes;;

My Masterlist

Mutual Interests Masterlist

   Suga sighed. Instead of helping with the finishing touches for their first project, he had spent the last hour begging for someone to go with him to some house party near the college. After completing his assignments for the upcoming week and his portion of the group project, he insisted on having a fun night out. To his dismay, none of his peers were as caught up as he was nor did they wish to be hungover tomorrow when their first class started at 7am. He had received a resounding ‘no’ from both Kuroo and Oikawa. Ushijima, on the other hand, was softer than the other two. Suga knew he could wear him down.

   “We can't waste our lives on homework! We're young, we're free!” Suga whined, falling back onto Ushijima’s bed.

   “It's probably not a good idea,” Ushijima mumbled to the small setter beside him whilst typing away on his laptop like his life depended on it.

   “It is! We need to relax just as much as study! Right, Kuroo-san?”

   Suga frowned as he stared across the room. Oikawa had textbooks and notebooks spread across Kuroo’s bed and the raven-haired man was lying on the floor next to him. Kuroo was entertaining himself by stealing Oikawa’s notes without the other noticing. Whenever Kuroo managed to steal a paper from the bed, he smirked and ate a jellybean. Oikawa muttered about losing his mind as he searched for specific notes, causing Kuroo’s smirk to grow into a lopsided grin. They continued their conversation and their one-sided game, Oikawa still oblivious to the thief.

   “I could've gone weirder, to be honest. I went pretty softcore.”

   “That doesn't make it any better, Kuroo-chan. If anything, it makes it worse!”

   “Like you can talk. Want me to slap you around a little or are you just into choking?”

   “I didn't write that!” Oikawa snapped, flinging his pencil at Kuroo’s head. Kuroo cackled, the sound as loud as thunder; Suga rolled his eyes.

   “Actually, nevermind about them. Come on, Ushijima-san! It'll be fun! You need to loosen up, anyway!”

   Ushijima stopped typing as he pondered the statement. He didn't feel tense nor did he think his life lacked anything. He placed the laptop on his nightstand before facing the awaiting eyes of his comrade. “Well, I would feel bad if you went alone.”

   Suga squealed as he jumped to his feet, a gleeful shimmer in his eyes. Displaying inhuman strength, he dragged the brunet to his feet. Dropping his much larger hands, he crossed over to the closet. Upon noticing the other was still standing by the bed, he beckoned him over with a wave. With heavy strides, Ushijima stood next to the bouncing ball of energy once known as Sugawara as he tore through his clothes. He frowned but didn't say anything as his shirts and pants fell onto the floor. Tossing a leather jacket and a light grey hoodie onto the bed, Suga spun around on his heels as he examined Ushijima and then the two articles of clothing.

   “Hmm, that'll work,” he murmured as he tapped a finger against his cheek.

   “What I'm wearing is fine then?”

   “You could wear a potato sack and be fine-” Oikawa snorted, “-but I'm thinking you should wear the leather.”

   “Sure.” Ushijima slipped the jacket over his shirt, zipping it up only to have Suga unzip it.

   “You'll be the bad boy, I'll be the pretty one. Lean down so I can fix your hair.”

   “Where are you two going?” Kuroo stretched with a yawn, leaning back across the bed to grab another piece of paper. Suga stopped wrestling Ushijima long enough to shoot a glare across the room. Resuming his battle to ruffle the other’s hair, he began to tell them the location. Before he could finish, another yawn interrupted him, “That's nice, have fun.”

   Sugawara scoffed not only at the disinterest seeping off in waves from the other side of the room but also at the lack of cooperation from Ushijima. With one last glance around the room, he stormed out the door. Oikawa began complaining about Suga’s attitude problem and Kuroo took that as the perfect opportunity to steal another note. He snickered as he gave Ushijima a thumbs up. With a final nod, he departed and pretended not to hear Oikawa’s shrill voice calling out ‘finally!’ as soon as the door closed.

   A couple of hours passed in silence within the dorm. Oikawa started on an essay for his history course, referencing his textbook directly instead of trying to find his personal notes. Kuroo had amassed a rather large pile of papers on the floor beside him. His hand creeped up along the side of the bed, crawling toward a lone piece of paper at the edge of the duvet. Seemingly out of nowhere, a textbook flew into the back of Kuroo’s head.

   “You jerk! Give me back my notes!” Oikawa growled, leaping across the bed to grab at the other man.

   “You're so dense,” Kuroo chuckled, rolling forward to dodge the oncoming assault.

   “I've been distracted!”

   “Worried about them?” Kuroo sneered, waving the stack of papers in front of chocolate eyes.

   Oikawa snatched his notes back, slapping Kuroo across the back of his head with a sigh, “They've been gone for quite awhile, don't you think? Do you think Suga-chan is okay stuck with Ushiwaka?”

   “You have it backwards, you should be worried about Wakatoshi.”

   “Whatever, I'm bringing them back.”

   Kuroo smirked as he gave him a thumbs up, earning a scoff from Oikawa. He packed up his study materials and grabbed Suga’s as well. Bidding Kuroo goodnight, he left in search of the amazing party Suga had raved on about for what felt like an eternity. With a quick stop at their dorm, he picked up a jacket and dropped off their materials before heading out into the night air. The wind was cold against his face as he jogged down the street he thought Suga had mentioned earlier. It didn't take long to find the house hosting the party. Cars lined up and down the street and people swarmed around like ants to a crumb of bread.

   Inside was much worse than he anticipated. The only word that came to Oikawa’s mind as he observed the event was distasteful. It was getting late and most people were beyond wasted. There were empty cups and bottles on every available surface. Some guys were passed out on the couch and the room was filled with the smell of marijuana. Oikawa gagged. He hated these large events where everyone just did as they pleased with no consideration for anyone else. The neighbours, if not yet infuriated by the blaring music, will probably lose their minds when they see the tire tracks and garbage littering their lawn.

   “This party is thumping, amirite?” Oikawa glanced over at the man slurring his words beside him. Alarmed by how suddenly he had appeared and by how much he reeked of alcohol, he threw his hands up in a defensive pose.

   “Please don't talk to me ever again,” he smiled, lowering his hands once the other guy backed away. Quickening his pace, he exited into the kitchen.

   It took a mere second to spot Ushijima. He towered over most of the other partygoers. Oikawa couldn't help but laugh at his expression. It was his usual stoic look except his nose was scrunched up in what only could be described as discomfort. His eyes burned holes into his red cup rather than look down at the two girls that were grinding against him as they made out. Someone bumped into him, their drink sloshing onto his shirt, and still he didn't react. He nodded at their insincere apology, choosing to keep his focus away from the party and on his hand instead.

   “What a sorry sight you are,” Oikawa jeered, striding up beside him.

   “Oikawa.”

   “Where's Suga-chan? I'm taking you home.”

   “No, don't take him home!” One of the girls pouted, resting her hand on Ushijima’s thigh. He shifted with discomfort, nudging the hand off.

   “You can take us all home instead, handsome,” the second girl whisper-yelled over the music, winking at Oikawa.

   “No, thanks! He's the only one I want to take home,” Oikawa smiled and flashed a peace sign, biting his cheek to hold back his irritation. “Where is he, Ushiwaka?”

   Ushijima sighed, relaxing a little as Oikawa sidled between him and the girls, “He took off as soon as we arrived.”

   “That's great, just wonderful. I'll find him, you just stay right here and entertain these lovely ladies. Don't move,” Oikawa grinned at the taller male’s widening eyes and shaking head. “Oh, don't worry so much. I'll probably come back for you.”

   As soon as he moved, the girls were back on Ushijima. Oikawa laughed as he waved before maneuvering his way through the crowd. He searched the remaining rooms on the first floor before heading upstairs. Once that proved fruitless, he ventured into the backyard. Sure enough, in the middle of the makeshift dance floor, was Sugawara. He was covered in glitter and glow sticks and on top of his silver hair was a flower crown. Diving into the mass of sweaty bodies, Oikawa squirmed and slithered until he made his way next to the swaying limbs of his roommate. After his words fell on deaf ears, he yanked him out of the conglomerate.

   “For fucks sake! Listen to me, would you? We're going home!” Oikawa snapped, pulling the giggling mess into the house.

   “Don't you want to do some shots, Oikawa-san?” Suga drawled as he clawed at the hand clasped around his wrists.

   “Stop that! No! We have class in a few hours, I smell like cheap desperation and Ushijima is being mauled by women!”

   “Sounds like you're upset because you want to ‘maul’ Ushijima-san.”

   “Never!” Oikawa hissed, pausing outside the doors to the kitchen.

   “Your secret is safe with me!” Suga giggled.

   “What secret?” A deep voice inquired from the doorway.

   Turning to face the voice, Oikawa groaned, “It's a secret for a reason, Ushiwaka! Didn't I tell you to wait in the kitchen?”

   “I saw you with Sugawara-san and I didn't want to be left with those women any longer.”

   “Whatever. Let's go.” Oikawa headed toward the front door, dragging Suga behind him before growling at Ushijima, “Help me carry this idiot.”

   Oikawa choked on the gasp he fought to keep down his throat as the taller male picked Sugawara up like one would a bag of potatoes. Tossing him over his shoulder and ignoring the much smaller man’s protests, he took off toward the door. Oikawa followed behind like a puppy as Ushijima led him home. Once they reached the campus, he tried to put Suga back on his own two feet but he refused to let go of Ushijima’s arm. He clung onto his frame and wouldn't let go no matter how hard the other tried to pry him off. With a soft sigh, he chose to carry him the rest of the way rather than try to wrestle him off. When they finally reached the room and Oikawa unlocked the door, Suga’s gripped had loosened. Pulling him off the very grateful Ushijima, Oikawa pushed him into their room. He narrowed his eyes at Ushijima’s concerned frown as the silver-haired male fell onto the floor. With a curt nod, Oikawa mumbled his thanks before entering his dorm.

   “Have a good night, Oikawa.”

   “Just sleep here, Ushijima-san. Oikawa’s bed has spa-” Suga’s voice was muffled by the slamming of the door.

   Oikawa dragged Sugawara to his bed, tossing him in with little care for his personal comfort or any regard for his health. He removed his shoes and all of the ridiculous glow sticks he had obtained at the party before tucking him under the sheets. Picking up the flower crown between two fingers, he threw it in the trash. Oikawa couldn't stop the grin that spread across his face as listened to Suga’s cries. While it had looked cute, he wasn't going to let him keep anything from that questionable party. It also pleased him to hear Suga sound distressed after all the worrying he had caused him. Oikawa changed into his pyjamas, standing next to his bed as he decided on his next move. Against his better judgement, he went back to Suga’s bedside.

   “You shouldn't have left Ushijima alone. You know he's awkward,” Oikawa rubbed the back of his neck, sighing as he tried articulate his next sentence. “It wasn't a very nice thing to do, he's your friend after all.”

   “Huh?” Suga hiccupped once before giggling, “I didn't think I'd receive a scolding from you of all people. You don't even like him!”

   “I don't, but you didn't see how pathetic he looked. It was just sad.”

   “Aww, you do like him!” Suga teased, “You probably like him a lot! You were pretty upset when those girls were all over him, after all.”

   “Shut up!” Oikawa stomped back to his bed before calling out, “Just go to sleep!”

[grandtheftstarship]

Drunken Promises (Leonard McCoy x Fem!Reader) [Request!]

“Hi I was wondering if you could write a story where Bones and the reader get really drunk on shore leave and get married. Neither of them know until they dock at a station and she gets a package on the bridge for Mrs. McCoy.” -anon

Hi anon!! I can NOT tell you how much I LOVE THIS IDEA. I had sooooo much fun writing this! Thank you for requesting!

Ughh I CAN NOT WAIT until summer break. Three more weeks, but they’re all going to be long ones. Here’s what’s going to be happening upload-wise: I have finals in two weeks and then I will be gone on a trip for another week without my laptop. I will hopefully have pre-written requests to upload from my phone, but I’m not sure if I will have time. If that doesn’t happen, once I get home I will write like there’s no tomorrow! I will be getting requests out

Word Count: 2043 Warnings: Fluff, swearing, implied smut Posted: Tumblr, Wattpad

You had definitely not planned on getting drunk. You were even the ‘designated driver’, and even though you were on Risa and had definitely not driven there, it was still (supposed) to be up to you to get everyone back to the ship safely. That was not what had gone down. 

The beginning was coming back slowly and in little pieces the next morning. You were hungover as hell, and supposedly everyone else that had gone on shore leave was too, judging by how Jim had given everyone an extra day to regroup. 

Sometime last night, you had rented a hotel room. You had assumed you had done it alone, since you woke up alone, but you couldn’t have been more wrong. You were sprawled over the king-sized bed, limbs tangled in the sheets and a bottle of fresh apple juice tucked under your arm. You groaned as light filtered into the room as one of Rigel V’s suns started rising higher, rolling over and taking a swig from your juice. 

You could remember who you went with; Jim, Scotty, Chekov, Spock, Uhura, Sulu, and Leonard. You remembered slipping into that [f/c] dress that you had been dying to wear in front of Leonard and caking on that ridiculous amount of makeup to make him jealous when other guys approached you. You just couldn’t remember anything after that. 

Hours later, your rumbling stomach was enough for you to drag your drunk ass out of bed, gripping the apple juice bottle tightly. You slid your legs out first, only then realizing you were nearly naked (which was just a little odd) and then allowing your head to adjust to the sudden movement. You didn’t have any clothes with you since you came here straight from the bar, so you shrugged a plush complementary robe over your shoulders and made your way to the doorway. That was, until something on your bedside table caught your eye. 

You stumbled back towards your bed, bending down to pick it up. Your eyes widened when it hit you, nearly dropping back down.

It was an elaborate, stunning wedding ring.

You scrutinized it, bringing it closer to your eyes so you could examine it further. You brought it with you into the living room, placing it gently on the small kitchen counter, before looking in the mini fridge for something to eat. When you again realized that there was nothing in this room because you rented it when you were drunk, you had no food, no clothes, and no currency. You called room service anyway, telling them that you were a Starfleet officer and that the tab could be charged as a work expense. After all, your extra day was Jim’s doing, therefore making it Starfleet’s problem. They could deal with a $25 breakfast. 

It wasn’t that much later when a young Risan knocked on your door to present an elaborate meal. (Maybe it would be a little more than $25) You thanked her and promised that a tip would be included on the bill since you didn’t have any Risan cash money. She left in a hurry after that and you sighed, pouring yourself some of the pinkish drink from the pitcher into a glass and walking out onto the balcony. You sighed at the beautiful view, wondering how the hell your drunk self had gotten this room, and your thoughts wandered back to the shimmering silver ring resting in your palm. You couldn’t have gotten married, could you?

Accidentally getting married to one of your closest friends would have been enough to deal with, but a stranger? You didn’t know if you could deal with that. You heaved another sigh, placing the delicate piece of jewelry into the robe pocket and settling into the plush chair. You decided you would figure it out later. For now, you wanted to enjoy the killer view and the sweet breeze before you had to face anything.

                                               _________________

Leonard woke up in a strange bed, with next to no clothes on. He didn’t know where he was, or who he was with, or even what had happened the night before; all he could think about was his throbbing head and the fact that he might have had a one night stand. 

The lump next to him was turned away from him, knocked out cold, tangled in the sheets and snoring softly. He slipped off the bed and found his pants, maneuvering around to the other side in hopes he would see who he had (possibly) slept with, but her face was obscured from view besides the mop of hair spewing out from the covers. He moved to pull the pillow away, but he stopped. He didn’t want to confront whoever it was if he woke her. That didn’t stop him from looking around the room for other clues, though. His eyes caught onto a peek of [f/c] fabric poking out from underneath the conforter, still slightly attatched to the wearer, and Leonard’s thoughts flashed to [y/n]. She had been wearing a [f/c] dress that night as well and the possibility that the hungover girl in front of him was her, but he quickly pushed the thought away. He didn’t want to deal with those feelings. His eyes wandered around a bit more as he shrugged his shirt on and he froze as a glittering piece of metal grabbed his attention. 

Horror filled him as he held the intricate ring between his fingers, the possibility that he slept with a married woman dawning on him. He quickly placed the ring back where he had found it and hurried out from the room, running his fingers through his hair to make it seem less messy but making it worse. He buckled his belt in the elevator and smoothed the wrinkles out of the black tee he had decided to wear. In his hurry to leave he missed one crucial detail.

The silver band he wore on his left hand, matching the one he had found on the bedside table. 

He could remember that he had gone with all of the senior officers to the crowded bar, and he remembered the dress [y/n] wore. Oh, that dress, with the seemingly modest frame from the front but if she had turned just slightly, the slit traveling up her thigh just enough, and the open back that exposed her smooth skin; it was all enough to make his mouth water all over again. The thought occurred to him again that the woman in the room might’ve been her, but he thrust it away a second time. There were plenty of women wearing that color that night, not that he would rather be with one of them. Part of him hoped that it was you, but then returned to the ring and all bets were off. She wasn’t married to anyone. 

Not until last night at least.

                                                 ________________

The next morning, you felt ten times better than the day before. You tidied up a little bit before leaving, placing the Risan cash on the table that you had gotten from the ATM in the lobby for the polite Risan waitress and the housekeepers. You also paid for the robe, which was what you wore over your open-backed dress in the chilly morning. You absent-mindedly fiddled with the ring in your pocket, slipping it on without thinking. You pressed your other hand onto the scanner as you walked through security to get back onto the ship, not even sparing a second glance to the screen that displayed your name. The security guard’s gaze snapped up to look at you curiously, but before you could understand why you were already walking up the skywalk back into the ship. You hastily made your way to your quarters to change, but bumped into Jim. 

“Hey [y/n], back so soon?” he shot you a knowing glance and you rolled your eyes. 

“Hold your horses, Jimmy. I woke up alone yesterday,” you assured him, sidestepping the captain and continuing forward. 

“You sure about that?” he slid into step next to you, nudging your shoulder lightly. “Bones came back early yesterday morning-”

You took a sharp turn, interrupting him. He caught back up with you. 

“Trust me, Jim,” you began, stopping in front of your quarters. “Leonard would never sleep with me. Plus, I have more pressing matters to deal with.”

You flashed the ring to him as the doors closed, Jim’s eyes widening before the metal hissed shut in his face. You breathed out in relief, calling the computer to bring the lights up to 75% as you slid out of your robe and dress to hop into the shower. You took the ring off and set it on the counter before slipping into the warm spray.

Ten minutes later, you stepped out and tugged on your uniform, walking out of the bathroom while toweling out your hair. You also put the ring back on, twirling it absent-mindedly as you made your way to the bridge for duty. The turbolift hissed open and you strode out to your station. You started prepping before you felt someone come up behind you. 

“This is for you, Mrs. McCoy,” Jim sneered, holding the small package in front of you. Your eyes widened and suddenly, it all came crashing back down on you.

                                                _____________

You sat at the bar, several shot glasses littered around you as you guffawed with a stranger who had just bought another round. You could barely hear or see anything, you were so drunk, and suddenly the man wasn’t there anymore. You looked around curiously, and that's when you noticed he was replaced with a familiar face. 

Leonard. 

He took your face into his hands and pressed his mouth to yours roughly, letting it escalate as you responded immediately. You made out for a while before he pulled away.

“I’m in love with you,” he slurred, caressing your cheek. “Will you marry me?”

“Yes,” you replied, grabbing his hand and stumbling out from the bar. You had found a small pawn shop that was selling stolen jewelry, but you and Leonard didn’t care. You quickly bought the rings and rushed over to a small place that resembled the Little Vegas Chapel, and you were married. It had gotten a little heated on your way out, so you both ran to the nearest resort and booked a room. You both stumbled in, kicking off your shoes. You were kissing again, and Leonard was fumbling for your zipper as you crawled onto the bed. His hands roamed over your body, resting dangerously over your ass-

You snapped yourself out of your reverie as the memories trickled in, heat blooming in your face. 

“Oh my god,” you breathed, eyes flicking back down to the ring on your left hand. 

“Did you just...” Leonard’s voice caused you to freeze as you turned around, ring in plain sight. His eyes zeroed onto it, slowly moving from his hand to yours over and over again. “Oh no.”

By now, you had attracted the attention of most of the bridge crew, all eyes on you and Leonard. He suddenly grabbed your hand and practically dragged you into the turbolift, pausing it as it started to move. 

“[y/n], I’m so sorry,” was the first thing he said, surprising you. 

“For what?” you asked. “I’m not mad about this.”

“You’re not?” he looked at you quizzically. “[y/n] we got married and we haven’t even had our first date yet. I took advantage of you-”

“No, you didn’t,” you insisted, placing your hand on his arm. “Len, what happened the other night; I wanted it. I wanted you. Drunk or not.”

He seemed to loosen up a bit, but he was still tense.

“Okay,” he said slowly, smiling lightly. “I wanted it too, but we still have this marriage problem..”

“Don’t worry about that,” you smirked cheekily. “I quite like being Mrs. McCoy.”

He returned your sly grin, sending chills up your arms. “Do you now?”

Your smile faltered a little at the predatory look in his eyes, adrenaline and excitement raising the hairs on your arms. He ran his hands up your body, resting them on your cheeks as he pulled you in for a sweet kiss.

He pulled away too quickly for your liking, eyes boring into yours. 

“I quite like it too.”

[hyunsunglix]

deadlines | h. jisung

pairing: han jisung x reader

genre: fluff + college au

requested?: no i just love college boys

word count: 2.4k+

a/n: kicking it off strong w my first post on here lol anyway i had a little too much fun writing this AND i even threw in some cameos ... if u catch them u get a gold star so watch out -sam

“this is so hard!” you whine, slumping over onto the chemistry notes you hadn’t bothered to finish. you turn your gaze towards your friend, kyungjoo, who gives you a fake sympathetic look.

“i know, y/n, i know, it’s just so hard for you to sit here for two hours and stare at him-“ she points her pencil at a boy sitting a few rows in front of you- “the whole time.”

“it is!” you defend yourself, although your heart isn’t truly in it, because the boy kyungjoo’s pointing at has caught your attention once again.

he looks like any other student in a typical 8am class- messy hair, sweatpants, hoodie. looking over the lecture hall, you probably would have missed him if you didn’t already know where he sat. which, for the record, was on the left side, fourth row, surrounded by other guys from his fraternity. of course.

as you tune yourself further in to the guys’ conversation, and begin to ignore whatever life advice kyungjoo is trying to give you now, you realize that the fraternity is talking amongst themselves excitedly- really excitedly.

“who are you bringing?”

“chan, your girlfriend is coming right? and minho’s coming too?”

“changbin, you’re going to have a hell of a time getting enough beer for all of us.”

and lastly, “are you gonna do it tonight?” “of course i’m gonna do it tonight; can’t wait any fucking longer.”

a party. of course there’s a party. there’s one practically every friday night, and every friday night, you don’t go. you use the age old excuse of “oh, i wasn’t invited!” but you know nobody needs an invite to a frat party. you’re just waiting for one anyways.

you tell this to kyungjoo as you come out of your dazed state. she laughs at you, telling you maybe she’ll take off to the frat party and have a little fun with someone while you stay in the dorms, staring at the blank chemistry notebook that’s taunting you right now. it seems to get closer, and closer, and closer- until your professor’s voice rings throughout the hall.

your body lurches, and your spine hits the back of your chair almost involuntarily. the sound of it is comically deafening compared to kyungjoo’s quiet laughter, and the whispers of the frat boys just a few rows in front of you.

“for part of your midterm assessment, you will be required to complete a group project- your own presentation, adequately covering a section of one of the units we’ve completed in class thus far. remember, the best way to learn is by teaching. your groups have been assigned at random; if you have any problems with your group members, please speak with me privately. to save time, i’ll be putting the list on the board.”

then, projected onto the whiteboard, is your fate for the next week. you scan the list for your name, your name, your name… for a moment after you see it, you forget if it’s even yours, because all you can see is the name han jisung sitting right underneath it.

y/n. han jisung.

han jisung. y/n.

you reach desperately for kyungjoo, nearly choking her in your own panic. “oh, are you doing electronegativity?” she muses. “i’d be pissed if i had to do that, too.”

“no, i-“ frankly, you don’t even know what section you’re covering; it doesn’t really matter now, anyway, because you’re convinced you’re fucked no matter what. “just look, kyungjoo!”

she manages to stop her gaze from wandering the lecture hall, up and down the aisles like a kid in a candy store, and squints at the board. her eyes blow open the moment she sees your name, but she forces them back and grins at you. “aw, have fun you little lovebird!” she squeals as a member of her own group tugs her away from you. you think you might actually choke her later.

the students are clearly splitting off into their groups, so you feel pressured to do the same- but not before you scout out jisung, and check (and then double check and triple check) to make sure it’s not too weird if you walk straight up to him right now. it’s not. “what the hell were you expecting?” you whisper to yourself as you walk towards the front of the room. it feels like a hike, miles long, and it could be placebo, but you swear you’re a little bit winded by the time you reach his desk.

he beats you to the punch. “hi, y/n.”

“hi, jisung,” you reply, leaning ever so slightly over the tabletop. “who else is in our group?” you try not to let any nervousness show in your voice.

“oh, jiwon is working with us, but she’s, ahem, ‘sick’ today.” the air quotes he puts around the word “sick,” are almost endearing, until the image of a hungover jiwon- kyungjoo’s friend, an absolute doll you’ve had the privilege of meeting a few times- pops into your mind. “oh, yikes.”

“yeah, yikes is about right.” he pauses, shaking his head at nothing, then looks back up at you. “sit down.” he motions to the chair next to him.

you grasp for conversational straws as you take your seat, “so, i heard your frat is having a party this weekend?” dumb question; of course they’re having a party. you know they are.

“yeah, we are!” the tone of excitement he had when talking to his friends comes back, and it makes you smile. “oh my god, y/n, you should come!”

the smile drops off your face, an expression of pure shock left in its trail. “really?”

“i mean, as long as you’re down for it. it’ll be fun; a ton of people are gonna be there.” he gives you a little nudge with his elbow, and you feel yourself falling into his trap. it’ll totally be fun, won’t it? you think to yourself. you take one look at jisung and decide, yeah, it will.

“i’ll come.”

his smile is even wider than yours. “great; it starts at 9, but you can come whenever. and you don’t have to bring anything, just yourself.”

“i’ll probably come with kyungjoo, is that okay?”

“oh, that’s perfect!”

+

“that’s perfect!” kyungjoo tells you as she adjusts your outfit in the mirror. you would beg to differ, but you keep your mouth shut, because kyungjoo looks stunning herself- so if she thinks you look good, that must mean something, right?

you run your own hands down your outfit’s front. sheer material, sprinkled with baby blue glitter, covers you from your neck down to the middle of your thighs, and its sparkle almost distracts from the delicate white slip dress you wear underneath. kyungjoo passes you your shoes and steps away as you put them on, since they give you quite a few inches over her already shorter frame. “i don’t want to be seen next to you,” she jokes.

you head out of the dorms together, wrapped in jackets to protect not only yourselves, but also the shock factor of your outfits. you don’t want to give everything away just yet, especially not to any of the boys sitting out on their frat houses’ front porches because they think they’re too good for anyone’s parties but their own.

the few people on the front lawn turn a blind eye to you and kyungjoo, so you slip through the door without anyone noticing. inside, the air is heavy with the scent of alcohol and the sound of music. mentally, you start preparing a plan to split up with kyungjoo and search the place for jisung- the idea of not having anyone to attach yourself to makes you jittery, but jisung was the only reason you showed up, really, so you’d be damned if you didn’t find him, you have to find him, but you’re getting a little hot in your jacket, so you start to unzip it- and then you see him.

amongst the lazy sway of the party, his dash through the kitchen and into the foyer is hard to miss. that, and he runs straight into you. as he uses your shoulders to steady himself, he pushes your jacket off. you barely hear it hit the floor- time slows and your senses numb as you watch jisung give you what might be the slowest once-over of all time. “y/n,” he mumbles. his voice proves he’s more drunk than you expected him to be. “i’m glad you showed up.” it’s not a you look good, which is what your heart really wanted, but it’s a start- until it ends.

a wide-eyed blonde girl, someone you recognize as being a few years older than you, comes up behind him. “jisung,” she says, her voice like a siren’s song. he turns slow, too slow for her taste, and so she tugs his arm. “jisung,” she repeats, louder this time. this draws the attention of some of the people in the kitchen, and a boy from the football team comes out. “han!” he claps his hand on jisung’s back.

more people follow, and jisung’s eyes widen as he’s pulled in a dozen directions at once. under pressure, you let go of his hand. you didn’t even realize you had grabbed it, yet you missed the feeling of it as soon as it was gone. kyungjoo slips her hand into yours in jisung’s place, and drags you into the living room. “come on, we’re gonna have some fun!”

your idea of fun at the beginning of the night hadn’t been eavesdropping on the sorority girls’ game of never have i ever, but as time dragged on, you managed to trick yourself into thinking it was interesting- jiwon was there, at least, so you and kyungjoo had an excuse to hang around. eventually, she stood up and left the circle, saying something about getting more drinks for the group. “jiwonnie, can you get us some too?” kyungjoo pleads.

“i thought you weren’t drinking tonight,” you whisper to her.

“change of plans.” she gives you the same look she gives you when you talk about jisung, and you’re forced to nod.

jiwon enters the room again with what must be an armful of beers. she passes one to each girl seated on the floor, then hands one each to you and kyungjoo. you expect her to rejoin the sorority girls, but she climbs onto the sofa next to you. “y/n, i thought you’d be with jisung.”

“yeah, i thought i’d be, too,” you sighed, not meeting her eyes.

“yeah… he’s looking for you, actually.”

you nearly spit out your drink. “what? but he ran off with- with-”

“yuju.” jiwon finishes. “but that didn’t last long, he’s not that into her and she’s not that interesting, anyway. he’s looking for you, y/n.”

she’s begging the question, so you ask. “where is he?”

“outside, on the deck.”

you make your way across the house with the beer that you didn’t need and weren’t going to drink, finally feeling like you had a place at the party. when you spot jisung on the deck, he’s sitting on the railing, a spot next to him that looked as if it had been saved for you- your place.

“hey,” jisung greets you as you climb over the railing, guessing you’re just another sorority girl there to butter him up. but when he turns to look, you swear you can see his eyes sparkle from something that’s not the moonlight. “y/n,” he whispers.

“jisung.” you grin like a giddy schoolgirl, even though you know there’s lipstick staining your teeth and the slightest hint of alcohol on your breath.

“where were you?” he asks.

“i was with kyungjoo. you were with yuju, right?” you hope you’re wrong.

“yeah, for like, a minute. and then i came outside to wait for you.” he waited for you. the thought makes your heart jump, and then sink, as you realize you were the one that kept him waiting for so long, kept him with yuju, away from you.

“how was she?” you want to smack yourself as soon as the words pass your lips. you barely know yuju, all you know is no matter what jisung says about her, it’s going to upset you. your mind trails through dark hallways and crowds of people, thinking about jisung and yuju drinking, talking, laughing with each other, all while you were silent in the living room.

“fine, i guess… but i’d rather have been with you.” he pulls you into his side. you can feel it, you can see it, you can smell his cologne and just barely imagine what his lips would taste like, all while the world roars around you with a vigor that makes you feel small.

“sorry for keeping you waiting.” your voice is so soft you feel like it might get lost in the hum of the night, everything buzzing around you like you’re trapped in a lightbulb on the verge of blowing out.

“it’s okay, i’ve got all the time in the world.” his hand drifts up your side, tapping with his fingertips the same way you would touch a crystal glass. seconds that feel precious to you chip away from your body.

“do you really?” you blurt.

“yeah, do you not?”

“i mean, i wouldn’t say i do.”

“maybe you’ve got a little more time than you think.” there’s a cadence to his voice, which matches how he sways from the drinks he’s had. you look at him, slow, and he looks back at you, slower, with hair and eyes like molasses.

and then he crashes into you, sugary sweet and warm, and you feel yourself melting into him like it’s the only thing you have left to do. it’s the only thing you can think about, anyway, with it sticking in your mind so hard you feel like you’re reliving the same three second every time jisung pushes his lips against yours again. when he finally pulls away, you can barely catch up, leaving you with your shoulders drooping, your eyes half-lidded, licking your lips like there’s still something left on them, and you want it, bad.

“why’d you do it?” you ask, skipping over telling him how much you enjoyed it. there’s no way he doesn’t already know.

“i told myself i’d do it tonight.” he strains to keep his voice slow once again; the world inside his head moving far too fast after kissing you. “couldn’t wait any fucking longer.”

[puckmanhq]

SOMEBODY ELSE // ( nobias )

WHO: noah puckerman & toby berry ( @berrytobias )

WHAT: an unexpected moment

WHERE: puckersquad penthouse 

WHEN: july 23, 2019 @ 8:42pm

WHY: because at some point these two were gonna have to converse about some shit except did they? 

Usually, Puck would have gone on acting like Toby was some 'other' in his weird little family tree. The brother of his baby mama, his daughter's uncle, his kid sister's best friend. Always there off to the side, blurred and close but never the focus, bever directly in his line of sight. Not until a couple weeks ago anyway, when he'd woken up hungover as fuck, naked and covered by an equally undressed Toby. Was it any wonder he'd assumed they'd had sex. Suddently this consistant background presence was front and center, and there that tall lanky man remained, even now. With the end credits of Fast Five scrolling along the TV screen, Puck had barely even paid attention and that was genuinely surprising. I mean Dwayne 'The Rock' Johnson made his entrance to the franchise in this movie and all Puck could think about was the last time he and Toby were on acouch together. "We'd be more fucked up than last time if we actually drank everytime a one liner was said in that fucking movie. But you've gotta try the apple pie moonshine, shit tastes legit, I promise."

Toby slouched back against the couch with a silent sigh. The space between them felt a lot more than it actually was, a lot deeper than the shadows hiding inside the cushion crevices. It felt awkward. He had really hoped the movie invitation would put him and Puck back at zero. He wanted to rewind them back before the glitter hug at the parade and before the naked version of off-key karaoke. But life wasn’t a stupid VHS tape. Toby lolled his head to the side, looking at puck with his signature lop-sided smile. "Either that, or every time they shifted gears.” Toby tapped his temple with a wink. “See, you fucked up, Puck. You can’t mention apple pie to me and not have me want to taste. I love dessert. I mean, I love food in general, but sweet stuff?” He wiggled. “Ooh, baby.” He then collapsed his fingers in a grabbing motion at his handsome host. “Gimme.”

"Dude you wanna get fucked up with gear shifts you gotta watch the second and third movie. Your skinny ass would definitely need a stomach pump trying to keep up with that shit." Already pouring a shot for his apparent drinking buddy, although he was taking it slow. Didn't want a repeat of last time, if anything was gonna happen he wanted his wits about him. A drunk him trying to make something more happen is, as his sister would put it, not it. Handing the full shot glass to Toby, he smiled a the grabby hands and that shouldn't have been as endearing to Puck as it was. Maybe he had drank more then he thought. Feeling his fingers ghost over Toby's as he tried to make sure Toby had a decent gasp on the glass he felt his body desperate to react and thank fuck he wasn't seventeen anymore and he had more control over his body. Without even realizing his body had moved even closer to Toby's on the couch, effectively closing the gap between them. "It's fucking good right?There's not even a bite to it. Shit is dangerous." Honestly, he was way too focused on memorizing everything about Toby's face as he spoke to even realize he'd said anything.

“You say that like I’ve never played this game with Ali. We’re pros, my dude.” Which was, only partly true. Semi-pros was probably more accurate. Their drinking games mainly revolved around obscure references and how many on-screen deaths there were. Toby didn’t flinch at the bump of their fingers or the warmth that radiated off them. Toby’s personal bubble was excruciatingly small. He had no issue with closeness, much to the annoyance of certain people. He scooted forward to properly take the shot, gently knocking Puck’s knee with his own. He lifted the glass. “Down the hatch.” His usual grimace faded as quickly as the drink fell past his throat. “Ooh shit.” He looked over at puck with exuberant child-like wonder.  “Bro,” he drew loudly, “that was tasty as hell.” He licked his lips. “You’re gonna have to hit me with another one. It’s--” He rolled his eyes at Puck’s warning. “Oh, come the fuck on. There’s nothing wrong with things being dangerous.” He handed over his glass forcefully. He was getting another shot goddammit. “That’s what makes life interesting, Puck. Live a little with me.” He thought for a moment. You know, kinda like last time. But not like last time, because you have AC,” he clarified. Toby cleared his throat. “Should we... Um.” He scratched the back of his neck with anxious fingers. “Should we talk about that night by the way? I know we didn’t do anything, but…”

Fuck, he’d been drinking water when Toby had the fucking nerve to say something as ludicrous as down the hatch, so naturally the next thing out of Puck’s mouth was water. Putting his glass down, he lifted his shirt up to wipe the water from his chin, running it down to his chest as well, before idly taking the empty glass from Toby. “Dude you’re already saying shit like down the hatch, I don’t think you need anymore.” Despite his words his actions said he was totally down with a two shots of moonshine in Tobias Berry, seeing as he was pouring him another as he fucking spoke. “Pretty sure I wrote the book on living a little. Chapter one, Knock up your best friend. Chapter two, get sent to juvie. Chapter three, drop out of high school. Shit, maybe if I’d finished junior year I could write a damn book.” Honestly, he was going to just act like Toby hadn’t brought up the thing Puck had spent weeks trying to forget even happened. Wasn’t that like the unspoken thing? What happens on tequila is forgotten forever and whatever you do remember you pretend you fucking forgot. Did no one tell the kid the rules of Añejo? Handing him his shot and taking one himself, he wiped his bottom lip before clearing his throat. Looking intently at him, Puck tried to read him, figure out if he wanted to say something without actually having to say anything, but he didn’t know the younger man well enough to do all that. Throwing his arm around the back of the couch around Toby’s shoulders, still looking at him. It was like Puck didn’t have that much control over his fucking body and he wasn’t 100% sure where the fuck it was going to take him next and maybe that was his way of living a little. “Sorry can’t remember, what was it that didn’t happen again?” He asked with a slight smirk, looking between Toby’s mouth and his eyes, Puck suddenly knew exactly where his body want to take this.

Toby tossed back his shot before answering, hoping the liquid courage would coat his throat and make everything he wanted to say smoother, sweeter, and more like the taste that was already fading from his tongue  “I know you can’t remember, Puck. That was the whole point of talk--” Toby blanched. Was… Was Puck putting the moves on him? It was all there. The smirk. The arm move. Toby’s pupils dilated. Was Puck looking at his mouth? “Oh God,” he spoke absentmindedly. “I mean, um…” His heart doubled its speed as he forced his gaze away. Why did he suddenly feel like he was 15 again? He didn’t still have a crush on his sister’s baby daddy. That was idiotic. “Aliyah said we…” Toby swallowed and regained his composure. “She said that we were being drunk jackasses and we sang karaoke and shit. Got naked at some point?” Cuddled. “Then we, um. Then we passed out. Nothing happened. But I wanted to make sure you weren’t weird about it, I guess?” Toby laughed nervously. “You know what? It’s fine. Water under the bridge or whatever.” Toby patted Puck’s thigh. “That cool? We good?” He didn’t move his hand.

As the other spoke, Puck looked at him intently, holding back a smile as he recounted their tale all those weeks ago. Once them getting naked was mentioned he could feel the slight pressure from him biting his bottom lip. Honestly it made him think it was kind of a shame they hadn’t made out, would have taken care of some of their current tension, but then that would be so much less fun. A flustered Toby was, kinda hot. Barely even registering what the younger man said before he finally stopped talking, Puck just looked down at the hand resting on his thigh and nodded. There were a couple of way he could probably lead this moment, and he was definitely going to be the leader, which should surprise exactly no one. Option one was to just say, yeah man we’re good, and laugh that shit off and let everything just settle into something normal and expected. Option two though, “Kinda a shame, right? That we didn’t make out, at least. That would’ve made the morning after hangover so much more worth it.” fuel the tension and see where it goes. Clearly, the dude was attracted to him, I mean who wasn’t? and Puck.... Puck would label it healthy human curiosity, after all he just wanted to know what it would be like to make out with Toby, nothing to dwell on there. So he leaned in, maintaining eye contact to see how close the other would allow him to get. When he was so close he could the other man’s warmth, he stopped looking at his lips before looking back up to his eyes, searching for permission.

Toby’s heart continued to thunder in his chest. He thought he had grown out of this feeling years ago. Again, he reminded himself he wasn’t a goddamn teenager with a crush. Puck wasn’t ruffling his hair as he walked past him to get to Lucky. Puck wasn’t playfully punching him in the shoulder. Puck wasn’t doing that nod of appreciation for babysitting on such late notice.. No, this was different. Very different. Puck was looking into Toby’s eyes, into Toby’s fucking soul. “A shame?” he repeated. “I mean, we could have for all we know. I think Aliyah caught the tail-end of our whole drunk singing thing. Maybe we did kiss before she showed up. And we just forgot. Like everything else.” Tobias Berry was on fire. “I don’t know about making a hangover worth it, Puck.” His headache for the entirety of the Pride Parade came to mind. “Though,” Toby laughed to himself. “I’ve actually been told I’m a really good kisser.” He licked his lips unconsciously. “Five star reviews.” Oh God. Was he doing this? Was he actually doing this? “We can make it worth it now,” he spoke quietly. “If you want to.” Eyes closed, Toby neared Puck’s lips with his own.

Up until two years ago, Toby was Lucky’s kid brother, then he was Lucky’s kid brother and Jo’s uncle. Then he was Lucky’s kid brother, Jo’s uncle, Aliyah’s roommate and Stevie’s best friend. To Puck, Toby had always been someone somebody else knew, he was always in his peripheral vision, a familiar but out of focus figure in his mind. Then the night before the IHQ Pride Games happened and suddenly he could see the younger man so clearly it was almost blinding. Had his hair always been that curly? Had his smile always been that endearing? Had he always talked this much? Had his voice always sounded like that? At first he thought maybe he was just doing this because he could, you know, like he always did. Saw someone attractive, charmed his way into their favor and did what came natural because he needed a release but that wasn’t what was happening. Not really, I mean, if it were he’d have shut Toby up at ’A shame?’ or been too focused on his mouth to hear anything he was actually saying, but he could’ve recited him word for word right now. Then, as if in slow motion, Toby assumed the, ‘kiss me’ position and Puck felt his instincts kick in and he had a hand on his face, the pad of his thumb tracing his jawline and he was so close and then those four words rung in his head; ‘If you want to.’ and he realized he really fucking did and that was kinda fucking him up, because Toby wasn’t just some dude, he was ingrained in the fabric of Puck’s life and somehow he was just now piecing that together. Resting his forehead against Toby’s, he knew he shouldn’t but he couldn’t think of a single reason why as he closed the gap between them. It was slow and something else that Puck would later find was... meaningful. Fuck.

[solange-lol]

maybe school, or maybe love, or maybe none of the above

Summary: Nico had a plan. One for his whole life; one that would make him just as successful as his father.

Falling in love with his best friend was not part of the plan. Especially when said best friend had a girlfriend.

Word Count: 1259

Prompt: day 8 of AUctober: Neighbors

Warning: mentions of alcohol, partying, & hangovers

Read on Ao3

Nico had a plan. One for his whole life; one that would make him just as successful as his father. Get the best grades in school, go to a good college, become a businessman of some sort, and settle down with a family.

When Nico was in eighth grade, he realized he was gay. No biggie. Just had to change the idea of a wife to a husband in his plan. His father probably didn’t care. Nico’s best friend and neighbor, Will, was bi anyway.

In junior year, however, Nico finally realized his unfortunate crush on Will. Unfortunate not because Will was beautiful and funny and, okay his singing needed some work but so did Nico’s so they screeched together anyway. Unfortunate because Will had a girlfriend who he really liked, and said girlfriend really liked him. So, he decided to never tell anybody and suffer until one day he dies.

Except he didn’t do that either because Will forced him to a ‘get-together’ and maybe he drank too many National Velvet’s (something Piper claimed to have created) but somehow he ended up outing himself to all of his friends through a game of truth or dare. He really didn’t mean to keep it a secret for so long.

Will ended up walking Nico home. They stood on Nico’s front porch for probably too long, just staring at each other. For the first time in a while, Nico couldn’t read those clear, blue eyes. Eventually, Will turned around and jumped the fence that separates their yards, which was probably a good idea because Nico really wanted to kiss him.

Nico woke up with a pounding headache. For a few seconds, he thought it might just be the usual coffee migraine and stood up to go fulfill his caffeine craving. As soon as his feet hit the floor, it all came flooding back to him.

When Nico realized he had no idea what he said the previous night, he immediately pulled out his phone. A few texts from his friends congratulating him on his closet expedition, including a video from Piper of Jason dumping glitter over his head while dancing along to Pink’s “Glitter in the Air.”

Nothing from Will.

Nico sighed, bounding down the stairs. He was surprised to see his father sitting on the couch reading the newspaper. Hades raised an eyebrow at his son but said nothing, so Nico continued to the kitchen. He poured himself a cup of coffee, making sure to add an unholy amount of milk and sugar (all his friends made jokes about him drinking his coffee black, but who in their right mind actually does that?) before grabbing his battered copy of The Half-Blood Prince (he promised Hazel he’d finish the books) and headed out to sit on the porch.

The crisp morning air helped clear his head a bit as he sat down on their porch swing and opened the book in front of him, taking occasional sips from his coffee. He heard Will’s car pull into the driveway next to him, but didn’t look up until he heard the familiar sound of Will jumping the fence.

“That’s my mug,” was the first thing Will said to him.

Nico stared up at him in confusion. He was standing there like last night never happened, wearing that same jean jacket that they covered in patches and pins during freshman year, that same dumb grin and messy curls. “What do you mean? I’ve had this mug since we were kids.”

“That’s my mug. When we make hot chocolate, that’s always my mug. You always told me you would never be caught dead with that mug.”

(To be fair, it was a ridiculous mug. It was shaped like a cow, complete with a tail for a handle. It was probably his nature obsessed-stepmom who bought it.)

“My apologies for not paying attention to my mug choices when I’m half awake and hungover at 7am.”

“It’s noon, actually. I just came from Drew’s house,” Will said, casting a faraway look off the porch.

“Oh,” Nico stated. “I’m sorry if I said anything weird last night, or that I didn’t tell you earlier-”

“I broke up with her.”

“Oh,” Nico said, trying his best to not let his pleasant surprise seep in. “I’m sorry?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Will shrugged. “I like someone else.”

“Oh?”

“So how long have you known?” Will smoothly changed the topic.

Nico hesitated before answering. “Eighth grade.”

“So why didn’t you tell me?” Will asked, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his jacket. Nico doesn’t think he’s ever heard the blonde sound so serious. “‘Cause, like, you were the first to know in seventh grade that I was bi. I guess- I don’t know. I just assumed you would have told me earlier. And not drunk at a party at the same time you’re telling 10 other people.”

Nico kind of wanted to cry. “I don’t know,” he started. “I did want to tell you, I just didn't know how to say it without telling you..” he trailed off once he realized what he was about to admit. Without telling you that I love you.

Will’s eyes sparkled with interest. “Without telling me what?” he asked as he laid back, leaning his arms against the railing, the same old shit-eating grin spreading across his face. Damn. A person should not be allowed to be that cute.

“Without telling you that you’re a fucking dork,” Nico said, rolling his eyes before continuing to ramble. “And that I like you. Like-like you. And I have for a while, but obviously, you had Drew so I never said anything. But you broke up, so I guess it’s fine now, maybe? Let me know if I-”

“Nico,” Will interrupted. “Shut up. As much as I love your nervous rambling, I fear I might never be able to say this if you keep talking.”

Nico closed his mouth.

“Remember that dare I got last night?” Will asked.

Nico nods. He remembers Will’s face falling for a second as soon as he read it, locking eyes with Nico before shaking it off with a laugh. “I’ll take the forfeit,” he had said with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. Drew pestered him to tell them what it was, but Will just shook his head and slipped the little piece of paper into his back pocket.

Here on this deck, Will took out that same little piece of paper. Nico stood up, and Will handed it to him. In someone’s unrecognizable handwriting, it read Kiss the person you most want to kiss in the room.

“But-?” Nico started, confused. Wasn’t Drew in the room with them? Unless…

“For some reason, I couldn’t lie to myself and just kiss Drew when really,” he rubbed the back of his neck. “Really I just wanted to kiss you. That’s why I broke up with Drew. Dunno why it took me so long but I guess when you said you were gay, and whatever happened last night when we walked back, I guess felt it was finally time.”

Nico was smiling now. They both were, actually, and their faces were inching closer together. Breath mingling, they got as far as their noses touching, Nico’s hands already on Will’s cheeks when Will spoke.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked, blue eyes meeting brown, searching for any trace of disgust or regret before he threw away their whole friendship.

Nico answered him by connecting their lips, and the world melted away around them.