#if anyone actually wants to see this with glasses I’ll add them

[a-flappy-bat]

Idk why I painted this…to play with colors/ different brush? Because he’s pretty ? Anyway have a Darling (after hours) experiment.

[cjsoleil]

You’re My Angel Baby (Mingi x Reader)

Summary: Y/N goes to a Halloween party and ends up taking care of a cute, drunk cowboy outlaw. Mingi wakes up in the morning with a vague memory of a girl dressed as an angel, and decides he has to meet her.

Halloween night, and somehow Y/N got swindled into joining her best friend, Seonghwa and his boyfriend, Hongjoong, to some party one of their friends planned. It took a lot of convincing, and even more bribery, but she did agree to go. She's dressed in a all white, a flowey long in the back short in the front dress with pure white boots. She put a silver, sparkly and floral headpiece in her hair and beside her sits a pair of fake white angel wings that she’ll put on when she gets out of the car. A cliche yes, but it was a little last minute. She borrowed the wings from a friend.

“Again with the pirate costume Hongjoong?” Y/N teases from the backseat. Hongjoong is wearing a bandana, white jeans, white shirt that is kinda like a blouse and a jacket. Clearly a pirate, “Is that three years in a row now?”

“Shut up.” Hongjoong snaps his usual comeback.

“You should appreciate me more Joongie.” Seonghwa pats the hand resting on his thigh, “I’ve been adapting my costumes to fit yours for years.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“But I want couples costumes!” That’s true, Seonghwa dressed up as a pirate too a few years back, then a parrot, now the mermaid, well, more like siren. He did his make up to suit his look, wearing a sparkly dress with baggy pants and he painted little scales around his ears, neck, and hands. It’s very much a DIY costume, but still very pretty. He’s going to run out of ideas soon. Y/N zones back in to see the car stopped at a red light and the two boys smiling at each other all cute. She groans and wonders how she’s ended up being these two perminate third wheel.

“Do I really have to come?”

“Sorry dear.” Seonghwa coos and looks back at his friend, “But we need a sober driver.”

“Besides. Your a nursing student, you can stop people from dying from alcohol poisoning.” Hongjoong adds.

“I cannot. You better not bring some shit faced frat boy to me and expect me to take care of him. Or her. Anyone. It’s not my job to take care of people outside my placement.” Because Y/N is not interested in dealing with whatever asshole drank too much. If they get alcohol poisoning from being stupid, it’s not anyone’s problem but their own.

“Whatever you say ratchet.”

“I’ll show you ratchet, Hongjoong.”

“Be nice you two.”

At the party, Y/N makes sure to stay close to Seonghwa and Hongjoong, and she smiles pleasantly at the people they talk to. Luckily it’s not all bad, Jongho and Yeosang are there too, so at least there’s some people she knows. She watches over her friends while they drink, making sure they don’t do anything very stupid. She can condone a little stupidity. It’s all very boring. She doesn’t have a lot of people that she can talk to, and she doesn’t have anything to really do. There’s some people dancing on the open floor, but she’d honestly rather die than become involved with that. On the bright side, someone had the decency to provide food. So after telling her friends, she wanders into the kitchen area and looks at what they have. There’s candy in a big bowl on the counter, and obviously a shit ton of alcohol she’s not able to drink, nothing great. She wishes they had cinnamon doughnuts or something, when a plate on the counter further away catches her eye.

“What the hell!” She whispers shouts, going over and grabbing an candy apple. There very clearly bought by an actual place that knows how to make them based off how well made they are. So she eats one. Or four. Who knows. Fuck she wishes they had a caramel apple too. Those are the best fall treats.

Someone else wanders into the kitchen, Y/N ignores him. Then the sound of glass breaking catches her attention. She turns her head to see a boy dressed as a cowboy staring at the broken cup on the floor, the cupboard at his head is open. He’s wearing a hat and a mask that covers the bottom half of his face, a leather jacket and tight pants. Despite not seeing much of his face, the boy is clearly drunk based off his heavy movements and pink ears. He’s also, Y/N must admit, very attractive. Maybe it’s the effect of the mask, but she just knows a pretty face hides under the mask. She watches as he kneels down, about to pick up the glass.

“Stop.” The boy looks up at her, stopping his movement, “Stay still. You're going to hurt yourself.” After making sure the boy is actually listening to her, Y/N looks around the kitchen for a broom or something. She doesn’t end up finding one, but she does find a rag, so she goes back to the boy, rag in hand just to see him with large pieces of glass in his hand.

“What did I just say?” Y/N sighs and cleans up the glass around the man and taking the piece from his hand, throwing it all out. She goes back to the still kneeling cowboy and crouches next to him, seeing his hand is bleeding. She cringes, not because of the blood, she’s used to that, but just because she imagines it hurts.

“Look at this. You should have listened to me.” She scolds, and the boy has enough sense to be ashamed, looking down.

“Sorry Angel.” He says, speech a little slurred and she can tell he’s pouting behind the mask, “Help me? Please?” Y/N sighs, looks like she’s playing caretaker tonight after all. At least he seems to be nice. She helps him stand up, which is a little hard because he’s much bigger than her.

“What’s your name?”

“Mingi.” She introduces herself as well.

“Well Mingi, let’s get to a bathroom so you can stop bleeding all over the place.” Y/N walks with Mingi, keeping a hand on his back and stabilizing him when he stumbles. Mingi cups his good hand under the bleeding one, but a few drops still get on the floor. She just ignores it, not her problem.

Y/N notices that people are watching her and Mingi, but she just gives them a dirty look when they catch her eye.

“People need to mind their business.” She mumbles, looking around for wherever the bathroom could be. She doesn’t just want to open random doors. More out of fear of being traumatized than out of respect for the homeowners privacy. She doesn’t even know whose party this is, it wouldn’t matter if she chose to snoop a little. Well, that’s a little hypocritical considering what she just said.

“There.” Mingi points to a closed door and Y/N opens it to see a bathroom.

“Okay, wash your hand and go sit on the toilet while I look for a bandage.” Mingi obeys and Y/N rifles through the medicine cabinet. She grabs bandages and isopropyl, as well as a cotton ball.

“Hold out your hand cowboy.”

“Outlaw.” She hears him mumble as she dips some of the isopropyl onto the cotton ball.

“Hm?”

“Outlaw, not cowboy.” Y/N smiles, and gently grabs Mingi’s hand.

“Outlaw, this may sting a bit.” She plays into his words, because what is the harm? While she doesn’t know the difference between an outlaw and a cowboy, she’s not about to start an argument over it. Mingi only cringes a little when he feels the disinfectant. Then Y/N grabs the roll of bandages, wrapping his hand. Mingi stares at her as she works.

“Pretty Angel.” He mumbles out, and Y/N just barely catches it.

“What a charmer.” She laughs, not taking the words of a drunk man seriously. After a few more moments, she’s done with the bandage.

“There.” She pats his hand a few times, “Now there won’t be blood all over the place. Well, anymore blood. I feel bad for whoever has to clean that up.” She laughs and he looks up at her, staring with wide eyes. He keeps his hand held out to her, “What is it?”

“Kiss it better.”

“Huh?”

“Kiss it better please?” Now, anyone else and she would’ve said no instantly and walk away. But Mingi seems so genuine. And he’s so cute and sweet. So Y/N gives a quick kiss to the palm of his bandaged hand.

“Better?” Mingi nods excitedly. He’s still wearing his mask. He should probably take that off, what if he throws up?

“Mingi. Take off your mask please.” Mingi nods and lifts his good hand to his face, tugging at the fabric. But he doesn’t actually do anything efficient. Just how much did he drink? Finding this a little pathetic, Y/N decides doing it herself would be better.

“Mingi, how about I help you?”

“Sure.” She gets the mask off quickly, fingers just grazing against Mingi’s hot ears.

I was right she thinks when she sees Mingi’s face fully, he is hot. Okay, the stares make more sense now. She puts the mask on the sink.

“Thank you Angel.” He says, smiling at the girl.

“You do know that’s not my name right?” Based off Mingi’s confused look, it’s clear he does not understand that.

“Whatever. Do you have a friend to watch over you?”

“Yunho.” Mingi answers, a name Y/N is somewhat familiar with, “but he left. Don’t know where he is.” Y/N is irritated hearing that. Mingi’s friend just abandoned him while he’s clearly not in his right mind, what if someone took advantage of him? Or if he drank more and got alcohol poisoning, or made the stupid decision to drive? When this Yunho comes back, she’s going to give him a strong lecture on how to treat your intoxicated friends.

“We can hang out until he gets here then.” Mingi looks happy hearing that, smiling brightly.

“Thank you Angel.”

“You are so polite.” Y/N comments, and gives into her urge to pat his cheek gently. Then she helps him stand up again, but when he’s standing, Y/N notices that he looks a little off. She’s about to ask about it, but then she hears Mingi make a gagging sound.

“Shit!” She lifts the toilet seat and pushes Mingi to sit, just in time. Mingi throws up in the toilet, and Y/N rubs his back sympathetically. She takes off his hat and holds it in her other hand.

Once the sickness passes, Mingi leans back and is panting and sweating a little.

“Poor guy.” Y/N puts the hat on his lap before opening the drawer under the sink, grabbing a rag. She runs it over cold water and rings it out, before going back over to Mingi. She holds his chin and wipes his face gently. He hums in content.

“Feels good.” He hums again, Y/N compares him to a happy cat. When she’s done, she wets another rag and lays it over the back of his neck. She lets him be for a while, wanting the nausea to pass before even trying to move him again.

“Hey Mingi.” He looks over to her, blinking tiredly, “I’m gonna go do something real quick-“

“Noo.” Hands grab her wings, tugging at the fake feathers, “Don’t go.”

“It will only be for a minute.”

“Angel, stay with me please.” Y/N is left standing still. The sentiment means a lot more than it should, coming from a drunk man. She sighs, wondering whatever made her so soft hearted. Seonghwa and Hongjoong will just have to wonder where she is for a while. So she grabs the mouthwash from under the sink and fills the cap half way, giving it as well as a small cup she found for Mingi to spit in. When he does so, she cleans out the cup in the sink. Curse her for being so nice. And curse Mingi for being so cute. If he wasn’t, she probably would’ve just cleaned up his cut and let him be.

Okay, maybe she isn't really nice.

“Okay cowboy- sorry, outlaw.” She then clicks her tongue with though, “What am I going to do with you?”

“Want to go to my room.”

“Your room? Do you live here?” Mingi nods, stretching his neck.

“Yeah. With my roommates.” Well this makes things a little easier. She will simply bring Mingi to his bedroom so he can sleep this off, and he’ll wake up in the morning without any recollection of her, or anything else that happened tonight. As well as a massive hangover. He’ll probably have to skip class tomorrow, if he has any.

“Wait, do you know where you got those candy apples- actually don’t answer that. Are you feeling better?” Mingi nods, and Y/N squints her eyes at him, “Are you sure? Is your head dizzy, stomach hurting?”

“M’okay.” Well, he is definitely looking more alive than before, so Y/N choses to believe him.

“Up we go then.” She holds out her hands and Mingi grabs them, allowing her to hoist him up until he’s standing. Honestly, she’s pretty proud of herself for being strong enough to do that. When he’s stable, Y/N walks him down the hall until he points to a door, and tells her it’s his bedroom. She opens the door, and quickly ushers him to sit on his double bed that takes up most of the room. She understands the need though, he would never fit in a twin bed like her own.

“Tired Mingi?” The boy yawns in response, making her laugh. She helps Mingi with taking off his shoes and jacket, and Mingi takes off his own shirt.

Oh my god. Y/N has to stop himself from saying the words out loud. She can’t help it, he’s just so so hot. Like seriously, his face was beautiful enough as it is and his body- nope she can’t even think about it without feeling like a pervert. So she quickly pulls back the covers of the bed and gestures for Mingi to lay down there. Then she pulls the blankets over him. She stays standing beside the bed.

“There’s a place downtown that makes them.” Mingi says into the blankets.

“Makes what?”

“The apples. I don’t like sweet stuff very much, but I thought they’d be nice.” He yawns, “Expensive though.”

“I thought so.” Y/N laughs, before whispering playfully, “I’m pretty sure I ate like, half of them though. Sorry about that.”

“Did you like them?”

“Very much.”

“Then it was worth it.” Mingi smiles up at the girl, before patting the side of his bed. Y/N takes the invitation and sits.

“Sorry.”

“For what?”

“Ruining your night.” Y/N smiles, and pets Mingi’s dark hair. She had already put his hat on his nightstand.

“Believe me or not, but this was the best part of my night Mingi.” And really, it was. She’s not into parties, nothing about them is appealing to her. As much as she complained about it to her friends earlier, this was a much more pleasant experience.

“Angel.”

“Yes?”

“You’re so beautiful. And kind.” Mingi lifts a hand, grabbing her arm and really underestimated his strength, pulling the girl on top of him. Letting out a yelp, Y/N plants her hands on the sides of Mingi’s head on the pillow. This leaves their faces only inches apart, and Y/N can smell the alcohol on Mingi. That makes her break eye contact with him and start to push her arms upwards. Before she can get far, Mingi cups her face with one hand, thumb under her chin and fingers splayed out on her cheek. The action puts her in such a state of shock, she doesn’t react in time to move away from him as he lifts his head up, pressing his lips to hers.

Her eyes widen and she quickly pulls away before the kiss can be considered anything more than a peck. Mingi whines when she pulls away.

“Mingi, no.”

“Why not?”

“Why not?” She parrots, frowning a little, “You don’t even know who I am.”

“You’re my Angel baby.” He grins, lets out a little laugh before surging forward, kissing her again. Her mouth opens a little in surprise at being kissed again, giving Mingi the chance to push his tongue into her mouth, the taste of cheep beer still present. And Y/N is just disillusioned enough to lean in for a moment, and she probably would have actually reciprocated if her mind was any more fogged up from a simple kiss. But she’s not about to kiss someone who can’t possibly understand what they’re doing. Maybe kiss someone more would be more accurate.

So she pulls away again, this time pushing a hand on Mingi’s chest to keep him laying down flat on the bed. Mingi groans a little, a complaint, but doesn’t say much more. Until out of nowhere, he mutters.

“We should go out tomorrow.” Only a little fazed, Y/N shakes her head at the question.

“Honey, you’re probably not going to be able to stand properly tomorrow. Just go to sleep.” She continues to pet Mingi’s head, until she’s sure that he’s asleep. Standing up, she grabs the trash can in the corner of the room and puts it next to the bed. Then she grabs a sticky note from his desk and a pen. She writes a quick note, puts it on the nightstand before leaving the room, making sure to close the door as gently as he can.

The party is dwindling down, Y/N notes. So she easily finds Seonghwa and Hongjoong.

“Where were you?” Seonghwa asks when he sees her, “I was worried sick!”

“Sorry Hwa.”

“What were you doing?” Hongjoong questions.

“Playing nurse. Are you ready to go?”

“What happened to ‘I’m not taking care of some drunk loser’?”

“I guess he changed my mind.”

“He?” Seonghwa grins, making Y/N get this sudden feeling of dread, “Who was it? Was he hot? Was he nice to you? Of course he was, you would’ve kicked him to the curb if he was mean-“ Seonghwa trips over nothing, Hongjoong just catches him.

“Careful baby.”

“Thanks Joongie.” Seonghwa leans over and kisses the younger boy. Y/N pretends to gag.

“Wait, why is your face so red?”

“Let’s just go! Please.”

“Fine. You have to tell us all about this guy though!”

“Yeah yeah.”

When Mingi wakes up, he instantly wishes to be asleep again. His head hurts, and he feels so sick he can barely move. God, he shouldn’t have drank so much last night. He sits up, only to be hit with a wave of nausea that has him nearly doubled over.

“Fuck…” he takes a few deep breaths before standing up, groaning as he does so. He notices the trash can by his bed, and wonders how he had enough sense to grab that. Yunho must have moved it for him. His jacket, shoes and shirt are off, as well as his hat. Yunho must have done that too. He takes off his shirt and puts on a pair of sweatpants before heading to the bathroom.

When he comes out, he goes to the living room where Yunho greets him.

“Hey man-“

“Shhh.” Mingi holds his head in his hands as he sits on the couch, “Too loud.” Yunho’s voice was really just barely above a whisper.

“How much did I drink yesterday?”

“I stopped counting after the second beer and the third shot.”

“I swear Yunho, I’m never getting drunk again.” He looks down at his bandaged hand, and tries to recall exactly what he did to hurt himself.

“What happened to my hand?”

“How would I know?”

“Weren’t you the one that wrapped it?” Yunho stares at him with a surprised face.

“Damn, do you really not remember anything from last night?” Mingi shrugs.

“Pretty much.”

“Well, I left around half way through with a few others to grab some beer and you insisted that you stay here. You kept on saying ‘I’m feeling great’ so I just told you to be careful and left. By the time I came back, you were tucked into bed and sleeping like the dead.” Mingi nods along, realizing he can’t rely on Yunho to fill in the blanks of his memory.

“Wait actually, I saw a note on your nightstand.”

“Did you?”

“Yeah. Didn’t read it though.”

“Okay. Can you get me some painkillers or something?”

“Sure.” Mingi goes to his bedroom and there on the nightstand, is a bright pink sticky note. He grabs it and reads the words in black ink.

Hey Mingi,

I can imagine you have quite the hangover today, you were pretty drunk last night. Make sure to clean that cut of yours and wrap it up again, though it will probably be all healed in a few days (The power of a little kiss). Maybe I’ll see you around. Anyways, take care outlaw.

Yours, Angel.

Angel. Images of a woman with no clear face fills his mind. White feathers, the feeling of warm lips on his palm and a hand running through his hair.

Mingi comes out of his room, still holding the note.

“Yunho, did you see anyone dressed as an angel yesterday?”

“It was Halloween. Many people were. Why?”

“The girl that took care of me dressed as one. But I can’t remember her name.”

“What did she look like?”

“Uhh..” Mingi sheepishly scratches the back of his neck, “She was pretty? Look, I’ll know her when I see her.”

“Does that really matter?” Yunho asks, tilting his head, “I mean, yeah, I get that she took care of you. That was very nice of her, but do you have to meet her?”

“Of course I do.” Mingi lays back down on rhe couch, closing his eyes.

“Oh my god you have a thing for her. You have a thing for a girl who’s name you do not know, you don’t know what she looks like and know nothing about her as a person.”

“Not true.” Mingi objects, “I know she’s sweet, pretty, angelic.” Mingi snorts, “Oh, and that she likes candy apples.”

“Whoa Mingi, sounds like it’s time to pop the question to Miss Angel.”

“I wish she would’ve left her number.” Mingi complains, placing a pillow over his face.

“Well, I’ll ask around if anyone knows her, but it’s gonna be hard without knowing anything about her.”

“Thanks Yunho.”

“I’m heading to class, you staying in?” Mingi nods slightly, “Thought so. Painkillers are in the kitchen.”

“Thanks Yunho. See ya.”

“Later.”

The next day, Mingi actually does go to school. He was hoping that miraculously, Angel would be in one of his classes. Unfortunately, this was not the case for him. Yunho, like he said, mentioned her to some people but at last, no luck. Really though, he didn’t expect more. At the moment, he’s at a cafe near campus with Hongjoong and San, doing a little group review.

“Where’s your other half?” San questions Hongjoong, wondering where the older boy is.

“He’s in the library.”

“And you left him alone?” Hongjoong rolls his eyes.

“I would’ve followed, but Seonghwa said that I couldn’t since he and ratchet were studying for biology I think.”

“Ratchet?” Mingi questions.

“Y/N. Seonghwa’s nursing friend.”

“That is so mean of you.” San says, shaking his head at Hongjoong nicknaming this poor girl after a crazy murderous nurse. Mingi finds the name a little familiar, but he can’t put his finger on it, so he doesn’t question it.

“You weren’t in class yesterday.” San states.

“Yeah, i had this massive hangover. Felt dead.”

“What happened with your hand?”

“I don’t remember, but I think I cut it on a piece of glass or something.”

“Damn, you really were wasted.” Mingi can only agree.

“Please please please please-“

“Seonghwa.”

“Y/N please just tell me about this guy.” Seonghwa begs, shaking Y/N’s shoulders. She was supposed to tell him on the way home from the party, but he fell asleep right away. And yesterday they were too busy, “You don’t even need to tell me who it was.”

“Fine.” Y/N relents, shutting her text book, “He was tall, handsome and sweet.”

“Oh!” Seonghwa puts his hands over his heart, “All one could want in a man.”

“You only have two of the three.” Seonghwa kicks her but is still laughing.

“He asked if he could go out with me?”

“What? You said yes right?” Y/N shrugs.

“I didn’t say anything. It was just talk anyways. He was drunk.”

“Either way, you should have left your number with him.”

“No point, he didn’t even know my name. Just called me Angel the whole night.”

“That is so cute but unhelpful.” Seonghwa sighs, “What did you guys even do?” She tells her friend about the boy cutting himself by accident and having to clean up his cut, and tuck him into bed.

“So cute.” He analyzes his friend for another moment, “What aren’t you telling me?”

“Nothing.”

“Liar. I can tell. What’s up?” Y/N dramatically groans and puts her heads in her hands, mumbling her words, “Excuse me?”

“We may have… kissed.”

“You kissed!” Seonghwa exclaims, Y/N is quick to shush him.

“Shut up!”

“Sorry this is just crazy to me.”

“What is? That guys only want to kiss me when they’re drunk?”

“Ha. Who initiated it?”

“Him obviously.”

“Come on! Give me the details.” Y/N can’t refuse.

“He kissed me, I said that was irresponsible, he kissed me again and fell asleep like five minutes after.” Seonghwa aw’s as Y/N dramatically rests her head on her arms.

“Wait, is this not cute? Were you not okay with it? If not, I’ll find him and beat him up.” Y/N looks up at him, “Fine, Hongjoong will beat him up.” A long pause, “Jongho will beat him up.”

“There you go. But no, it was… fine? Really, If he was sober, I probably would have actually kissed him back.” Though if he was sober, she’s sure neither of them would have paid the other any mind whatsoever.

“You know if you tell me his name I could probably find him and you set you guys up.”

“Are you trying to get rid of me?”

“Noo.” Seonghwa pulls the girl into a hug, “We love you.”

“If you do, can we stop talking about this and study.”

“Fine. I have to go soon though, I said I’d meet up with Hongjoong later. Would you like to accompany us?”

“Ew.”

“You won’t be saying that when you and mystery boy get together. We can go on a double date!”

“Stop pushing your couple agenda on me.”

After a few hours of studying at the café, the two boys start to back up their bags to leave. San has already left. They hear the bell at the door ring, and Mingi’s sees Seonghwa make his way towards the table.

“Hey Joongie.” Seonghwa greets Hongjoong, leaning down to kiss his cheek before saying hi to Mingi.

“How are you guys?” He asks while sitting down.

“Good.” “Slightly hungover.” Seonghwa snorts at Mingi’s comment. But his laughter stops when he sees the bandage on Mingi’s hand.

“Hey, what happened with your hand?” Mingi looks down at his hand.

“I think I cut it on something, but I don’t really remember.”

“Huh.” Seonghwa hums for a moment before his eyes lighten up.

“Mingi, do you remember anything from your party?”

“A little bit yeah, why?”

“Did you spend anytime with a girl there? She-“

“Angel?” Mingi asks, wide eyed. He was planning to ask Hongjoong about her before they left.

“She was dressed as an Angel yes!” Seonghwa claps his hands in joy, “I’m so smart, I thought this would take longer to figure out.”

“Ohh.” Hongjoong says, just clueing in, “Mingi was the guy Y/N watched over at the party? Man, you didn’t tell me that.”

“I didn’t know who she was! I was gonna ask you if you knew a girl dressed as an angel.”

“Small world.” Seonghwa smiles, “She said you asked her out, is that true?”

“I really don’t know, sorry Hwa.” Mingi runs a hand through his hair, “But I’d love to actually meet her, thank her in person at least. Could you give me her number?” Seonghwa shakes his head.

“No, she’d be upset if I did that.” Patting the table, Seonghwa thinks, “but… if you did happen to run into her outside class, well that would be fate.”

“Would you?”

“I’ll text you her next class right now.”

“Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it. You’d be good together.”

“What?”

“Let’s go Hwa, bye Mingi.” Hongjoong and Seonghwa leave, and Mingi choses to ignore Seonghwa’s comment.

He leaves the café and starts walking back to his place. The street he’s on has a ton of little shops and bakeries, so he window shops a little as he makes his way. The a sight makes him stop. There in the window, is a display case of different candy apples. A picture plays in his mind, of a pretty girl in an Angel costume eating the candied fruit in his kitchen. His phone buzzes from his pocket, and he pulls it out and sees a text from Seonghwa. He texted the younger the building, classroom number, as well as the start and end times.

Are you sure she won’t mind?

It’s fine! Tell her I sent you

I’m glad I can blame you

Great. Have fun ;)

Mingi looks at the display case again, before stepping inside.

I hate kinesiology Y/N thinks as she steps out of her classroom. She makes her way out of the building, weaving through the crowd of people. When she’s outside, just a few meters away from the building door, she feels someone tap her shoulder. Turning around, she sees a sight she wasn’t expecting to see so soon.

“Mingi?”

“Hi Angel.” Mingi grins with a small blush on his face, one hand held behind his back.

“Isn’t this a surprise.” Y/N can’t help but smile.

“Yeah, um, I just wanted to thank you for taking such good care of me the other night. You didn’t have to.” Y/N shakes her head, waving a hand in the air.

“No problem. I’m surprised you remember me.” Mingi blushes more, and shifts his feet.

“Well, I kinda didn’t. But I saw your note and remembered a girl dressed as an angel, but not what you looked like.”

“Hm.” Y/N hums, and crosses her arms, shifting her weight to her right leg, “Disappointed?”

“God no.” Mingi answers immediately, “You’re pretty.”

“You said that.”

“Did I?”

“Multiple times. Thank you. How do you know who I am though? If you didn’t know what I looked like.” Mingi looks a little flustered and avoids eye contact.

“I ran into Seonghwa and he figured that you were the one who took care of me because of, well, this.” He lifts his own bandaged hand, “He told me your name and that you were here and that your class would be ending around this time so I came by to see if I could catch you. And I knew I would recognize you once I saw you. Even without the wings.” He spoke so fast, Y/N barely caught all of his words.

“I see. How’s the hand?”

“Good, uh, I was wondering what you meant, by your note?”

“The kiss comment?” Y/N laughs uncomfortably, pulling at the ends of her hair, “Well, um, you did ask me to kiss your hand better…”

“And?”

“You- don’t be upset please- you did kiss me. Twice.” Mingi looks ready to combust from the embarrassment he’s feeling.

“I did? Fuck, Y/N I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay. You were-“

“Please don’t say I was drunk. That’s no fucking excuse.” Y/N smiles softly.

“Fine. I forgive you.” Mingi laughs.

“You shouldn’t give in so easily. Here.” He pulls the box from behind his back and presents the caramel apple to her.

“For you.” He tells her, watching as the girl gives him an expression of pure joy.

“You-“ Y/N starts, taking the boxed caramel apple from Mingi’s hand, “Are the sweetest.” It seems that Mingi remembered a little more than she thought.

“Seonghwa said that I apparently asked you out.” Y/N nods in agreement, Mingi takes a deep breath, “I wanted to let you know that the question is still open, I’d love to go out with you.” Silence is all he gets in response. He feels a sense of dread in his stomach, but that soon leaves when he actually looks at the girl to see that she looks… flustered?

“Really? Um, yeah that- that would be nice.”

“And…” Mingi takes a breath, stepping closer to the girl. He slowly lifts his hand and rests it in the nape of her neck.

“If it’s not too much to ask, could I get a little reminder of what I forgot?” Blood rushes to Y/N’s ears and her heart beats faster. She brings her hands to his shoulders, grabbing onto the fabric of his shirt.

“I suppose I can.” Mingi leans down and brings his face close to the girl. Before his lips can meet hers though, Y/N covers his mouth with her hand, “Not now.” Mingi grabs her wrist and kisses the palm of her hand.

“After an actual date.” Where I don’t witness you throw up. She doesn’t say that know. She doesn’t want to embarrass him too much just yet. With a quick motion of his wrist, Mingi links their hands and brings them down.

“Let’s go.”

“Where?”

“On a date. Duh.” Y/N grins.

“Aw, our first, completely sober date!”

“I’m never drinking that much again.”

When Halloween rolled around the next year, Mingi did, in fact, drink that much again. It’s okay though, he still had an angel to take care of him.

[callsign-rogueone]

one for the books - g.t.

Garrick Tavis x Scribe!Reader part of my Valentine’s Day Celly (better late than never?) words: 1.7k (got a little carried away here, oops) 🏷: IRON FLAME SPOILERS. scribe reader who is referred to as a woman one time, and has painted nails, but no pronouns used. just some meet-cute fluff with reader and Gare. love at first sight. it's weird writing him with anyone other than Angel, but I hope y'all will still like it anyway 🥺

Garrick wanders through the rows of bookshelves in search of someone who actually knows what they’re doing, so he won’t have to spend the entire day looking at the titles of every book in this massive library.

It doesn’t take long for him to find the only scribe who’d come with them to Aretia: Violet’s friend, Jesinia, who had helped them sneak into the Archives to get the journals. Who happens to be Deaf. He hadn’t thought about that part. 

He waves a hello, racking his brain for the letters of the alphabet and spelling out his request at a snail’s pace, hoping he’s moving his hands correctly. I… n-e-e-d…

Jesinia takes pity on him, holding up a hand to stop him and darting back into the maze of shelves, leaving him standing there thoroughly embarrassed -- he really needs to add “study sign” to his list of things to do after this whole wyvern thing is resolved and Tyrrendor is freed again. Whenever that will be.

He’s expecting her to come back with a pen and paper, so he can write it down, but she emerges thirty seconds later with another scribe in tow, one he’s never met before -- the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen. 

Jesinia gestures to you with a soft smile, and leaves.

He blinks once, twice, taking you in.

You’ve taken some creative liberties with the uniform, wearing the beige scribes’ robes open with a plain shirt and pants underneath, the hood down to expose your face and hair, a pair of glasses perched atop your head and a clipboard in hand, your nails long and painted a pale pink -- a few of them have started to chip, but it’s endearing; comforting to find a tiny flaw in an otherwise perfect presence.

You’re equally entranced. The fortress is crawling with riders -- you’re one of maybe five students here who are anything else --  but this one in particular makes your heart race. 

It’s as if the gods pulled a knight from the pages of one of your fantasy novels and dropped him in front of you in this library; broad and tall, muscled and tattooed, two longswords strapped across his back… he’d be intimidating without the nervous smile on his face and the blush dusting his cheeks, the afternoon light coming through the windows and making him glow.

“How can I help you, Lieutenant?” you ask after a moment, hoping you don’t sound as flustered as you feel.

The scar running down the side of his face moves as he speaks -- more quietly than you’d been expecting. “Riorson sent me; he wants everything you have about wards.”

You blow out a nervous breath. “Okay, uh… I’m still not totally sure how this library is organized, but I’ll see what I can do.”

“We can look together, then,” he offers, giving you a knee-weakening smile.

You don’t know if you can spend the rest of your afternoon with this man and not make a complete fool of yourself, but you’ll just have to try your best. “Sounds like a plan.”

You realize you don’t know each other’s names, having been too busy staring at each other to make proper introductions.

“Garrick,” he offers, extending a hand to shake.

You’re really supposed to refer to him as Lieutenant, since he’s graduated and you haven’t, but you still repeat the word softly, trying it out. “Nice to meet you, Garrick.”

He already owes Xaden Riorson his life, but hearing you say his name, feeling the softness of your hand against his… he decides he’ll be in the boy’s debt well into the afterlife, too.

“I’ll start on one end, you on the other, and meet in the middle?” you ask. “Anything with wards, magic, or protection in the title would be a good start.”

He hums in acknowledgement, heading down to the end of the row.

“I haven’t been in here in ages,” he admits, scanning the rows of shelves for anything that could be useful. “I lived most of my life here before the revolution,” he adds quickly, explaining.

Small talk is good. You can do small talk.

“It must have been interesting growing up in a fortress like this,” you respond, too shy to ask him for his likely incredibly-tragic life story outright, and you’re technically on the job right now, so you should be focusing on the task at hand.

He picks another volume off the top shelf, keeping his feet flat on the ground and barely having to stretch for it. “It was. There were a few dozen of us kids around, always underfoot and meddling. We used to play hide and seek in here, and see how long we could stay before the scribes found us and kicked us out.”

You laugh, a sound he doesn’t think he’ll ever grow tired of hearing. You may be a librarian, but you’re the polar opposite of the typical strict and stiff scribes he’s used to -- young and lovely and not afraid to laugh and talk among the books, to let them hear your voice and know that they’re appreciated. They’re lucky to have someone like you watching over them.

Since you’re grasping at straws here, you decide to cast a broad net and pull down anything that could be even a little bit helpful -- and you’re finding more than you’d thought, likely because the Tyrrish basically invented wards. 

You really should have brought a cart, but it’s no issue for him -- he’s holding at least ten thick volumes at once with complete ease.

“I got it,” he offers, shifting the tall stack he’s amassed into one arm and taking yours with the other. Seeing a man like him with an armful of books is hotter than it should be. Everything about him is hotter than it should be.

He sets the stack on the nearest table, shrugging off his jacket and draping it over the back of a chair before he sits down.

Your eyes linger on the relic winding around his arm like a plume of black smoke, contrasting against the pale muscle. You know it was intended as way to mark them as the descendants of those who had committed treason, to set them apart from their peers and to force them to enroll in the rider’s quadrant, but he looks like he didn’t have too much trouble in his days at Basgiath, if the two dozen patches on his flight jacket are any metric.

It suits him. He’d look incomplete without the relic and the thick scar on the side of his face. It would be rude to ask how he got it, but the curiosity still tugs at you. You want to know everything about him.

You realize you’re staring, and pull your eyes away as quickly as you can manage, worried that he’ll think you’re judging him -- though you wouldn’t be here if you weren’t on his side.

You each take a book off the top and crack it open, scanning for anything that could help. “Did he say anything more specific? Or why he needs this?”

“Nope. But he’s always been vague and mysterious, even when we were kids, before he had all those shadows following him around.”

“I’ve only seen him twice, but that sounds accurate.”

It’s his turn to laugh. “He may be all cold and broody all the time, but he’s a good guy. I’ve always considered him my best friend.”

You’re thinking of the best way to keep him talking when Jesinia knocks on the side of a nearby shelf to get your attention. Done with my transcribing. What’s next?

Thank you. You can leave for the day. 

Jesinia gives you a sly smile. You don’t want help? Or do you just want to be alone with him because you think he’s handsome?

She’d told you that Garrick’s sign was rusty, that he could only fingerspell, but you still turn away from him as you respond, praying he didn’t understand what she just said. 

Two can play at this game. I’ve been meaning to ask, how is that redhead boy who keeps coming by to talk to you? I’m sure he’d like to see you for another sign lesson tonight.

She reddens, realizing you know about her crush on the rider, and bails out of the conversation while she still can. Goodnight!

There’s that lovely laugh again as you turn back to him, seeing him watching you -- now you really hope he didn’t understand. He quickly returns his gaze to the book in front of him, which definitely isn’t modern Navarrian or any of the other languages you know. It must be Tyrrish.

“You can read this?” you ask with rapt curiosity, leaning forward to take a better look at it.

“About every fifth word or so,” he answers. “There aren’t many fluent speakers left, since it was outlawed decades ago and kids aren’t taught it in school. I don’t see the symbol for “wards” anywhere, but that might be too obvious.”

“No language should ever be outlawed,” you respond, perhaps a little too hotly. “There must be so much valuable information that was lost in translation or destroyed entirely after the wars. That’s one of the reasons I wanted to become a scribe, to try to save as much as I could. But so many of the texts in the Archives have been translated over and over, and I can’t help but wonder if some things were left out on purpose.”

Another smile. “Well-said. Into the “maybe” pile, then?”

Your cheeks warm with embarrassment as you realize how long you’d been talking. “That’s the only pile we have,” you sigh, stretching. 

He’d shown up around four, and it’s nearing seven now, your body automatically responding to the hour and telling you to pack things up, but that’s one of the nicest things about the library here -- unlike the Archives at Basgiath, you can work here through the night, and not be booted out at seven on the dot.

You’d asked the Lieutenant Colonel about it when he’d come by one day, and he’d told you there wasn’t any sort of magical time-sealing-lock on the library, just a normal wooden door charmed to be fireproof -- so you’d stayed in one of the armchairs until midnight reading, just because you could.

“Well,” he offers, “I know it’s a grave sin to eat in the library, so how about we take a break, get ourselves some dinner, and pick this back up after?”

Smooth. Very smooth.

“I’d like that,” you answer, your heart fluttering. “I’d like that a lot.”

[augustghosts]

Stewy Hosseini x female reader

A classic tale of fucking your ex at your friends wedding. We’ve all been there, I think.

Word Count: 3.9k

Warnings: 18+ pls, minors will be blocked! Not proofread which is defo a warning, lmk if you spot anything ive missed. Smut. Oral f!recieving and protected pinv. Alcohol and drugs are mentioned slightly.

Little authors note sorry: Hey everyone i am actually alive lol. 5 months later i return writing for someone new… not out of character for me. I watched succession for the first time recently (late asf to the party i know) and i read some amazing stewy fics so i thought i’d add my piece because i’m obsessed with him. Sorry to all my tommy miller babes on here, i swear i tried writing for him again but my inspiration for tommy fics seems to have gotten lost. I really struggled when i tried finishing my half way done tommy series lol. But when i started writing this one it just floooowed and i finished it in like a few hours. Maybe my tommy love will come back someday but for now…. This. Hope someone out there enjoys lol <3

You’ve felt eyes on you all night. Everywhere you go you end up meeting his eyes across the room. Eveytime you look over at him, he’s already looking. He should be the one that's embarrassed, you’ve caught him looking at you multiple times, but you’re always the one who ends up looking away first and feeling your skin heat with the embarrassment of being caught. While he shamelessly stares at you over the rim of his glass, that awful fucking smirk gracing his lips and he watches you squirm. Honestly, it’s kinda creepy. And you almost hope he approaches you so you can tell him that.

Towards the end of the night he starts to close in, starts inching closer to you. He starts making conversation with the people around you, people at the bar next to you, and eventually your friends. Asking them how they are, how it’s been such a long time. Then, he finally gets to you. He takes his time looking you over before he speaks and you’re determined not to be the first one to talk, so you let him stare. Both of you standing in silence for a few seconds before he finally speaks.

“You look great.”

”Thanks.” Keeping it simple seems safe. You want to tell him he looks good too because fuck, he does. He always does. He notices your eyes drifting over his suit and tie and he chuckles.

“What are you doing?” You ask.

“Uhm,” He trails off - pretends to think. “I’m at a fucking wedding, and i’m enjoying myself.”

”Yeah?” You ask, he nods in agreement. The way his eyebrows raise tells you he’s still being sarcastic, still mocking you. “Watching my every move all night is how you enjoy yourself?”

“Actually, yes.” He confirms. “Watching you squirm all night was pretty fun.”

”I wasn’t.” You attempt to defend yourself, downing your drink. “I was just-“

“I’ll get you another.” He cuts you off, snatching your glass out of your hand - not even bothering to ask. You almost try to protest, but you don’t see the point. You know him too well, you know how stubborn he is, once he gets an idea it’s hard for him to let it go. If the idea he’s got tonight is paying for your drinks, then so be it - who were you to complain. You sit down on the stool next to you, watching as Stewy makes the bartender laugh as he orders your drinks. You're kind of pissed that you still can’t figure him out sometimes, you know him better than most people - maybe better than anyone, but he still confuses you. It has been a while since you last saw him, but you conclude that he hasn’t changed much.

When he comes back with your drinks he puts yours down in front of you and asks: “Still your favorite?”

You nod, kind of pissed that he got it right. You try to convince yourself that he didn’t actually remember that small detail. That he’s just been watching you order them all night during your staring competition.

“So, how’s your family?” You ask, cringing at how lame you sound. You just don’t want to let him start a conversation you don’t want to have.

He smiles, because he knows what you're doing. “They’re fine. I still don’t see them much, but they’re good.”

”You’re still too busy to see your family?” You joke.

“Mhm,” His smile almost looks genuine as you joke with each other. “I’m always busy.”

“Busy stealing people's money?”

He laughs then, a genuine laugh that makes you laugh as well. God, you don’t want to admit that you missed him. But everyone else just seems so boring after him, you’ve never found the same thing you’d had with him with anyone else.

“You never really understood business did you?” He laughs.

“I understand perfectly.”

“Sure,” He agrees. “I explained it to you enough times.”

“Yeah, and bored me to death.”

”Is that why you broke up with me?”

His question completely catches you off guard and you almost choke on your drink. You almost want to ask him if he purposefully said that while you were taking a sip, but you’re too busy trying to supress your coughing.

“Jesus, it was just a question.” Stewy laughs at you again, his warm hand coming to rest on your back as he watches you almost choke.

“Fuck you.” You say pointedly, after getting yourself back under control. ”You know why we broke up. Also, I broke up with you?”

”You did.”

“Stewy, it was amicable.”

“Was it?” His face goes serious again and you instantly miss the sound of his laugh. You just sigh, taking another sip of your drink. This was exactly the conversation you didn’t want to have.

“I thought you said you were enjoying yourself,” You say after a few moments of silence. “Don’t ruin it now.”

”I lied.” He says. “I always hated those two, I can't believe they actually got married.”

”Match made in hell.” You agree, both of you laugh softly again.

“You know I also lied earlier when I said you looked great.” He says, surprising you. You brace yourself for whatever joke he’s going to make about you, you shouldn't have pissed him off, he can get mean when he’s pissed off. It’s not his fault, it’s just his defense mechanism - but nevertheless you brace yourself for his comment - and he surprises you again by saying: “You look fucking incredible.”

You open your mouth to speak, but no words come out. You opt for another sip of your drink instead and he watches you in amusement.

“I only came because I hoped you would be here,” He continued. You still can’t tell if he’s being serious or not, that damned smirk on his face makes you think he’s making fun of you, but those big brown eyes look so sincere.

“Stewy, stop.” You sigh.

“Come on, baby.” He murmurs, he leans forward in his chair and places his hand on your knee. The nickname makes you tense up. Makes a familiar heat spread through you. “Let me get you another drink and take you up to my room.”

Fuck. He’s fucking good at this, and he knows it. He knows exactly how to get you. You’re trying to think, but the alcohol and the way his thumb is rubbing your knee is clouding your mind. He waits patiently, watching as you look down at his hand and back up to his face. Your eyes stop at his lips before meeting his gaze.

“Alright,” You say, you swear you can actually see his eyes light up. “Go get me another drink and show me your room. Then I'll decide.”

“You got it.” He grins and practically jumps out of his seat. When he returns he holds out his hand to help you off your stool, the heels you decided to wear and the drinks weren’t a good match. He hands you your drink, although you don’t really want it now. His hand finds its place on the small of your back and a fire lights up somewhere inside of you. His touch feels so familiar - comforting. He leads you out of the bar and to the elevators. Punching in the right number before the doors close, leaving you both alone in the small space. It suddenly feels too quiet.

You want to touch him, but once again you don’t want to be the one to make the first move. You don't want him to know how desperate you are for him, although you think he already knows. He’s watching you in silence, his eyes dark and wanting. A look you’ve seen a million times before - a look that makes you excited. The elevator ride is short, Stewy isn’t the type to kiss you in an elevator, and you know that, so you’re not disappointed when the doors open and he hasn’t touched you or said a word.

He gestures for you to leave first, putting his hand on the door so they don’t close on you, or him. Some people would find this strange, the silence, but it’s a game you’ve both played with each other before. A game you both enjoy. He guides you to his room with a hand on your back, just like before. When he unlocks the door and opens it for you, you suppress a gasp. As usual, Stewy needs to have the best of the best. The bride and groom's room probably isn’t even this nice. They probably couldn’t afford it - Stewy can.

“Well?” His voice sounds from behind you.

“Hm?”

”What do you think? You said you would decide when you saw the room. Is it good enough for you?”

”Uhm,” You pretend to think as you set your drink down on the dresser, turning around to dramatically inspect the room. It earns a playful eye roll from Stewy. He knows what impresses you and he knows he already has you. He already had you down at the bar.

“I think it’s okay.” You conclude, turning to face him. He hums in sarcastic agreement, looking you up and down. He’s playing the game again, who is going to end it first. Who is going to lose. You don’t like losing, and neither does he. But honestly, haven’t you already lost? He has you in his room for christ sake. He has you standing in front of him, already dripping and all he’s done is touch your leg a little and look at you the right way. So you put aside your pride and step towards him, you bring your hands up to his cheeks and roughly bring his face down to your, finally connecting your lips.

His hands immediately find their home at your hips, pulling you tightly against him. The kiss immediately turns from an innocent kiss to a hungry and passionate one, his tongue dominating your mouth. You both know each other's bodies so well, there's no need for taking it slow or asking questions.

“Fuck, Stewy.” You sigh as he backs you towards the bed, gently setting you down and climbing over you. Kissing every inch of your skin.

“God, I missed that.” He groans, marveling over the way you sigh his name. “I missed you, baby. I can admit it. I want you so badly.”

You moan softly at his words, at the way his lips feel on your neck - at how right this feels. You had missed him too. He catches you off guard when he pulls away to ask, ”Have you been fucking other people?”

“Sorry?” You giggle, “Why are you asking me that now?”

”Have you?” He presses.

“I ju- maybe.” You stutter, already missing his lips.

”Maybe?”

”I know you’ve been fucking as well.” You accuse, suddenly defensive. You push yourself up onto your elbows, despite still being trapped underneath him.

“Yeah, I have.” He says coolly.

“So?” You ask, irritated. Why was he doing this?

“So, none of them were as good as you.” His words earn an eye roll from you. “Nothing can compare to this pussy.” He adds, his hand sliding down to roughly grip your thigh and bring it over his waist. Oh, shit. His half hard cock is pressing perfectly against your pussy in this new position, the material of your dress and his suit pants keeping you apart. “And, i bet none of those guys fucked you the way i do.” One of his hands comes up to grip your chin, his other keeping him above you. He forces you to look him in the eyes as he asks, “Did they?”

“No.” You practically squeak. “None of them were like you. No one is like you, Stewy.”

You’re not even lying, after having sex with Stewy for so long nothing compared. You had gotten accustomed to a man who knew what he was doing, to a man who was generous in bed. You had gotten used to a man who could make you cum. No one had achieved that after him. Your answer obviously pleases him, he grins and leans down to kiss you again.

He ends the kiss and stands up leaving you spread out on the bed, you whine underneath him, chasing for more. He ignores you and slips off his suit jacket. He makes a show of undoing the top button of his shirt and loosening his sleeves in order to push them up to his elbows. Fuck, he looks so good. You almost want to tell him, but you don;t need to. He can see the way you're watching him, that look in your eye. He knows what you look like when you’re turned on - and this is it. He grabs your thighs and pushes your dress up to your waist, getting a good look before sliding your panties down your legs, throwing them over his shoulder somewhere.

“I’m gonna fuck you like you deserve, baby. I know what you need. I can’t wait to taste you.” He rambles as you whimper in anticipation, he presses a kiss to your ankle as he watches you buck your hips.

He has his mouth on you before you can respond. Just as you remember, he is painfully and infuriatingly good at it. He still eats pussy like it's his second nature. He still looks up at you through his gorgeous lashes as he traces your clit with his tongue. He has to hold back from grinning against you as you writhe and whimper. He groans as you sigh his name and run your hand through his hair. You remember how much you love it when he’s like this, when he's animalistic and loses his composure.

Your legs tighten around his head as he digs his fingers into the flesh of your thighs. It’s fucking embarassing how quickly you barrel towards your climax, but it has been a while. And no one else devours you like this, no one else is this good. You should have expected it. He recognizes it immediately, breaking away from you for a second to speak.

“Are you gonna come for me, baby?”

“Yes! Please, Stew.” You moan, your hands grabbing at his hair attempting to push him back down. He smiles wickedly, licking his lips as he watches you.

“God, I love it when you beg for me.” He mumbles before diving back in, allowing you to push his head down and maneuver him.

"Please make me come," you groan, arching your back. “I'm so close, don’t stop.”

And he doesn’t stop, he continues to lap at you and work you though your orgasm as you come against his mouth. His beard delightfully scratches your sensitive skin, leaving behind a delicious burning feeling. He’s painfully hard now, after watching you come and hearing you moan his name. You begin to push at his head when you come down, usually he would tease you a little now, knowing how sensitive you are and make the most of it. But he’s so fucking desprate for you, he has been all night. He’s been dreaming about being inside of you for hours now.

He’s instantly on his feet, undoing his belt and undressing. You follow suit, weakly sitting up - doing the best your legs can do when they feel like jelly, you lift your dress over your head and throw it on the floor with his clothes. He’s climbing back on top of you, kissing you hungrily. His lips and chin are still wet with your juices and you moan into his mouth as you taste yourself on his lips.

“How do you want me?” You ask breathlessly, fully prepared to submit to him- to do whatever he asks.

“Fuck,” He groans at your words, having to pause for a second. “Can you turn over for me?”

You smile, leaning up to kiss him one more time before turning over and crawling to the middle of the bed, pushing yourself up onto your knees and holding yourself up on your elbows, so your back is deliciously arched the way you know he likes. You grin as you hear him groan behind you, his hand petting your ass before he delivers a light slap to it. He steps away from you and you hear the rustling of a condom wrapper, did he have that in his fucking pocket? His words from earlier repeat in your head, ‘I only came because I hoped you would be here.’

“Plese fuck me, Stewy.” You moan softly, knowing exactly what he wants to hear. “I need you.”

”How bad?” He teases. The head of his cock is ever so slightly pressing against your entrance, he’s hardly holding back as he waits for your answer, pushing in slightly.

“So bad,” You sigh, pushing back on him so he slips easily inside of you. You both moan loudly, you love that he’s so loud and shameless in bed. He stays still once he’s bottomed out.

“Yeah?” He says through gritted teeth.

“Yes! Please move. I need to be fucked properly, only you can do it.”

The sound he makes behind you is heavenly, you knew that would work. He pulls out of you before pushing back in slowly. He always does this, he starts slow and then builds up to a bruising pace. All you can do is whimper beneath him and beg for him to fuck you faster. Your pussy sucks him in greedily, his cock pushing against that spongy spot inside of you with every thrust.

“You take me so fucking well. Like you were fucking made for me.” His voice is deep and raw.

”I think I am,” You moan. “You feel so fucking good!”

“Are you gonna come for me again, sweetheart? Gonna soak my cock?”

All you can do is furiously nod your head and moan beneath him, the sounds of your pussy squelching as he fucks you is almost embarassing. You don’t have time to think about it because he’s pulling out of you and gently flipping you over onto your back. He lifts your legs and rests his knees on the bed, throwing your feet over his shoulders and he leans over you. He guides his cock back into you and dives down to kiss you, his tongue pushing past your lips in a messy kiss. You’re both moaning into each other's mouths, not minding when your teeth momentarily clack together.

“Come on gorgeous,” He groans, he’s breathless - pressing kisses to your face between his words. You can tell he’s close too. “Come for me. Squeeze my cock. Let me fucking have it.”

He feels you tighten around him as you come, his name leaving your lips like a fucking prayer. Your hands tightening around his neck, nails digging into his skin.

“Fuck, that’s it. You look so beautiful, baby.” He talks you through it, still fucking you as you come around him.

“Oh my god,” You moan. “Come inside of me, Stewy.”

You know he’s wearing a condom, but the dirty talk is hot. He thinks so too, because that's all it takes for him to come. His head is buried in your neck, his teeth biting into the soft skin under your ear. No doubt leaving a mark, but you’ll worry about that tomorrow. Right now all you can think about is how hot he sounds when he comes, you love that he isn’t quiet, that he isn’t afraid to groan your name into your neck.

He stays still for a second, lifting his head and kissing you - gently this time, before he pulls out. You rest for a minute while he discards the condom. You hear rustling and sniffing while he’s in the bathroom and you almost want to yell out to him - this is why we broke up. But you ignore it, getting up from the bed and breezing past him as he leaves the bathroom. You close the door behind you, taking the hotel robe off the back of the door and cleaning yourself up, doing what you need to do. You wonder if you should shower, but decide you should probably go back to your own room to do that.

When you leave the bathroom he’s sitting in the bed under the covers, the tv remote in his hand. Your dress and underwear have been picked up and folded on the chair beside the bed. It makes you smile, how can someone be so thoughtful but so selfish at the same time. That’s why you broke up, you need to keep reminding yourself.

“So, I guess I'm gonna go back to my own room.” You say as you gather your things. You’re on your way back to the bathroom with your clothes when he speaks up.

“Okay,” He says, respecting your decision. “Why?”

”Why?” You repeat, stopping your tracks. “Don’t you want me to go?”

”No. I want you to watch tv with me.”

”Seriously?” You laugh before you realize he’s being serious.

“Yeah, seriously.” His face is impassive, and hard to read. But you can’t resist those big brown eyes and you drop your clothes back onto the floor and slip into bed with him.

“Hey,” He whines as he looks at your dress. “I picked that up and folded it for you and you just threw it on the floor again.”

“Sorry, how rude of me.” You laugh at the mock pout on his face. You’ve sat pretty far away from him and he eyes the space between you.

“Come here.” He says lifting up his arm so you can cuddle into his side. God, you shouldn’t be doing this, you should have left. But he smells good and this bed is so comfortable.

“Will you stay the night here?” He asks quietly

”I shouldn’t.” You sigh.

“I know.” He agrees.

Of course you end up staying the night, Stewy is very convincing. With his promise of round two and a warm shower in the morning, it’s hard to resist. He also promises an expensive breakfast after the shower, but he says, ‘only if you behave yourself.’ You spend the whole night talking and laughing with him. Not only is he the best fuck you’ve ever had, he’s also the funniest person on earth. He’s got the kindest eyes you’ve ever seen but he’s also the biggest assole you’ve ever met. He’s so confusing, but that night you decide that maybe taking a little more time to try and figure him out won’t be so bad - only time will tell.

[just-j-really]

Unsolumates, part five:

Masterpost

“Have you found your person yet?” Morpheus asks. “Your- not your soulmate?”

It’s been a little over two months, since Hob and Audrey broke up. Somehow ‘getting dinner with Morpheus just after’ had turned into ‘additional drinks’ had turned into ‘brunch, a few days later,’ and now Hob doesn’t think a week has passed since the breakup that he hasn’t seen Morpheus, at least briefly. Morpheus has carefully avoided the subject of soulmates, of romance entirely, for the entire nine weeks, and Hob is a little ashamed and a lot grateful.

They aren’t… whatever they were, before. Hob still isn’t sure if ‘whatever’ was ‘experiment and mad scientist.’ He’s doesn’t really care, though, because whether or not he used to be Morpheus’ monster, he doesn’t think he is anymore. Not after two months of regular, friendly pleasantries and coaxing Morpheus into talking about the play he’s working on and Morpheus listening to him wax poetic about his new flat and its in-unit laundry and actual decent heat.

So it feels perfectly easy to say, “Haven’t really been looking for ‘em,” even if it aches a little. Morpheus looks a little startled by the admission, so Hob adds, “Morpheus. I just spent fifteen minutes explaining what I had for breakfast yesterday, I would have mentioned if I were seeing someone.”

In his defense, it had been a good breakfast. A breakfast worthy of fifteen minutes of conversation. He might have to steal Gwen’s soulmate solely to get her pancake recipe.

Morpheus stares at the table, twisting one cuff of his coat in his opposite hand. “But you’re certain,” he says to the table. If he were anyone else Hob would say he sounds hesitant. “You will look for them. Eventually.”

This means something to him, Hob realizes. Something more than research, or mad science, more than curiosity. Means something on a future-altering bone-deep soul-defining level.

The thought drops into Hob’s mind, like a dead bird dropped into his lap by a pet cat that genuinely thinks it’s being generous, that Morpheus’ soulmate may be dead. It would explain the coat, which he hasn’t taken off even though the White Horse is boilingly warm tonight. Would explain why Hob’s only ever seen him in sleeves that go down to, often past, his wrists. Scarred-over soulmarks don’t look terribly different from ordinary scars, at least not at a quick glance, which means that any suspiciously soulmark-shaped scar tends to draw prying glances and effusive pity, and people with actual soulmark scars do their best to hide them.

It would explain a lot about Morpheus, actually, from the distant intensity with which he’d approached the whole soulmate thing to his complete ignorance of how even normal dating works to the delicate way Will had gone about inviting him to his wedding, asking if Hob thought he was overstepping at least six times in the process.

And oh, god, Hob’s been staring at Morpheus’ arms like an asshole, hasn’t he? He consciously draws his eyes away from Morpheus’ sleeves, which means he ends up looking into his eyes instead. His eyes are so blue, a shade Hob isn’t sure how to describe as anything other than ‘pretty,’ somehow light and intense and warm all at once.

Mesmerizing, maybe. Hypnotic.

The truly off-putting combination of the disarming blue of Morpheus’ eyes and Hob’s own scramble not to think about dead soulmates is, possibly, why he says, “I’ll make you a bet,” before his brain has caught up with his mouth, or even finished trying to come up with synonyms for ‘blue.’

“Hmm?” Morpheus asks. His expression is cool, but there’s a teasing glint in those ultramarine eyes that goads Hob on.

“That you can keep asking me that, as long as you want, and one day the answer will be ‘yes, and we’re very happy together.’” Hob finishes off his drink, sets his glass down with just enough force to punctuate the challenge. “I’ll even stake something on it. You could shave my head.”

“Why would I want to shave your head?” Morpheus asks. His expression is still entirely bland, but his eyes- azure- are dancing.

“That’s not the point,” Hob informs him, leaning in. He might be a bit too enthusiastic about the idea, but he’s a little giddy for no specific reason, just a good day and good company. “The point is that I don’t want you to, and I’m still willing to bet on it because I’m going to win.”

“Fine,” Morpheus says, rolling his eyes, “I’ll take the bet.”

Hob can see right through him, though. More to the point, he can see the way Morpheus is biting at his lower lip, completely ineffectively hiding a smile, and he’s powerless not to smile back.

At first, Hob thinks Morpheus is going to take this bet as seriously as their initial Whatever That Was. The first thing out of his mouth, the next time he and Hob meet for drinks, is so have you met your person yet? And Hob says not yet, and Morpheus asks if that means he’s won, and Hob informs him that a ‘not yet’ is not a ‘no’ and also did Morpheus expect him to find the love of his life within a week? He is not the lead in one of Will’s plays, why would he do that.

For someone who looked so smug when he asked Hob if he’d won the bet, Morpheus looks- almost equally satisfied when he learns Hob hasn’t experienced a whirlwind six day long romance.

But he lets it drop, after that, and they fall back into their new-old pattern, and all is right with the world.

“You know I nearly drowned once?” Hob asks.

In hindsight, it’s not a thing he should have asked while leaning out over a large pond because he swears that’s an ancient, sunken paddleboat in the middle of it and he wants a better look. Morpheus grabs him by the shoulder and yanks him backwards almost as soon as the words are out of his mouth, as though past near-drownings make Hob more susceptible to a watery grave.

“In a wave pool, yes,” Morpheus says, steering Hob away from the water’s edge. They’d been on their way to a museum, but Morpheus, for unknowable and mysterious reasons, had decided they should detour through this park on the way.

“Oh, no, after that,” Hob says, still craning his neck for a look at the sunken maybe-paddleboat. “I was like- sixteen? Got stuck under a boat when it flipped.” They reach the gravel path leading away from the water, and Morpheus lets Hob’s arm drop with noticeable reluctance.

“Just how many times have you nearly drowned?” Morpheus asks, as they trudge back toward the main path through the park.

“Uh. Two?” Hob replies. “The wave pool doesn’t count.”

“The fact that you think that is not reassuring,” Morpheus informs him, and will not budge on the issue no matter how much Hob tried to convince him that it doesn’t count as drowning as long as no one calls an ambulance.

The argument lasts them the rest of the way through the park, on a meandering route that doubles back on itself at least six times, across city streets to the museum, and through the queue for tickets. At that point Hob concedes. Not because he is wrong. He is not wrong, the other times didn’t count, but he has accepted the reality that he cannot possibly convince Morpheus of this fact.

Besides, the lure of keeping up a stupid argument shrivels and dies the moment Morpheus directs them out of the lobby area, past signs for the Theater Through the Ages exhibit, his eyes practically glowing with excitement. Hob doesn’t know what could have withstood the thrall of watching Morpheus stare at an old manuscript, a soft smile on his face. He wants to see Morpheus look this happy every day. He wants to be the reason for it.

He wants to soak in that expression for as long as he can, and that one he manages, trailing Morpheus through the exhibit like a lost puppy, absorbing exactly nothing of the room they’re in or the helpful signage or the contents of the cases. The windows could look out on the surface of Venus and there could be a sea monster in the corner giving directions and Hob would be none the wiser.

It takes Morpheus a while- Hob’s not keeping track of a stupid thing like time- to stop being dazzled by the exhibits and notice that Hob is dazzled for other reasons, but when he does he- crumples, just a little.

“You’re bored of this,” he says, as though this is an established fact Hob’s been politely not mentioning this whole time.

“No!” Hob says, “I’m not bored at all, just-” and then, thankfully, his mouth grinds to a halt before it can say any of the things his brain wants to. “A little lost?” he finally mumbles, once he’s managed to shove aside oh god please smile at me again and or climb me like a tree and actually have a conscious thought.

If nothing else, ‘lost’ has the benefit of being true, if not The Truth.

“Oh,” Morpheus says, somehow crumpling even further. A nauseous wave of self-loathing washes over Hob, for causing the light in Morpheus’ eyes to shrivel in on itself, he should have said all the stuff about oh god please smile at me again because at least that would be better than this-

“What’s that one about?” Hob says, a half step too loud, pointing at the nearest old book in a glass case.

He is, in hindsight, extremely lucky that he managed to point at a display and not a fire extinguisher.

Morpheus looks startled- Hob isn’t sure if that’s due to the words themselves, or just the volume- but turns to the case, Hob mirroring him, and begins to explain that it’s one of the few surviving volumes of a medieval playwright’s work. The explanation is stilted at first, Morpheus glancing over at Hob every few seconds as though expecting him to have turned away in disgust, but the smile slowly creeps back onto his face as Hob nods along, occasionally nudging at him to explain more.

It's Hob’s accomplishment of the year, maybe, coaxing that smile back to life, and he hangs onto Morpheus’ words like they’re oxygen as they meander through the rest of the exhibit.

The why of it all doesn’t phase him for the next several hours, because he doesn’t have time for intense self-examination. Not with Morpheus’ presence turning his mind into a dizzy slush, like his brain is made up of sunshine and honeybees and a persistent, thrumming notice me notice me notice me. Not with Morpheus failing to look aggrieved as they wander through a gallery of paintings, Hob critiquing each of them based on the presence of action and interesting animals.

Not when Morpheus grabs them each a drink at the museum café, giving Hob the chance to sneakily buy him a magnet from the gift shop, not when he looks so surprised when Hob hands him the little gift bag.

It’s only when they part ways that Hob catches himself smiling at his coffee cup, and the name Murphy in scratchy handwriting on the sleeve.

Well, shit, he thinks.

It had been easy, before, to let the tiny crush he’d been nursing wither and die. But now Morpheus is feeding it, refusing to let Hob pay for his own coffee and listening to him make stupid jokes about art history, and it has, accordingly, roared back to life, made itself comfortable in Hob’s heart.

[sideroachblog]

Kinktober Day 6: Body Worship

I forgot to post this yesterday!! Oops. Hopefully I'll get Day 7 posted today, too.

Thanks to @nonsenseafterdark for the prompt list!!

Words: 1,885

Summary: Price needs a confidence booster. Roach is happy to help. No actual smut, I didn't get that far 😅 but the build-up is there.

TWs: The Captain is a dirty old bastard (he's not that old). No real TWs for once, surprisingly. Don't get used to that.

Price glared at the small glass case on his desk. It held a Newton’s cradle made to look like billiard balls, although Price wasn’t a physics scholar nor a pool fan. It was something his father gave him for Christmas last year without putting much thought into it. However, that rabbithole went unexplored at the moment as his attention rested on his own reflection.

~~~

Price looked more and more like his dad every day. Pushing forty wasn’t old by any means. That sentiment didn’t stick now after the last remnants of his youth slipped through his fingers when he wasn’t watching, his full, brown beard sprouting gray patches on his chin.

There were larger problems at stake. Lamenting the passage of time did no one any good. He should feel lucky to have had all these years, considering the many perilous escapades he roped himself into, but it was hard when it earned him bad memories nearly as deep as his stress lines. Price sighed, running a hand through his hair. Christ, was it starting to thin?

Someone cleared their throat standing at his desk and startled him.

Roach stood there like an apprehensive stray, gaiter down around his neck, all his other gear in the armory. A little over a decade younger than Price. Not quite pushing thirty, probably unaware of how fast the birthdays ran by. He had a full head of rich chestnut hair (his crew cut grew out a smidge too far), big brown eyes without a dark circle in sight, high cheekbones his flesh hadn’t begun to sag from yet. Not a boyish face per se, considering the sharp, scruffy jawline it sported and the myriad of scars obtained on missions. Youthful but not young.

Quite the lady-killer, in Price’s opinion; perhaps a bit of a captain-killer as well. Sure, call it unethical to have little crushes on sergeants, but don’t fault a man for preferring trained dogs that come when called and still have the energy for tricks.

Price shook himself out of it before he thought too hard about scratching Roach behind the ears as the man sat in his lap. “Jesus Christ. Would it kill you to knock?”

“I did. You didn’t respond but the door was cracked.”

“Still. Nearly gave me a heart attack.”

Roach grinned. His teeth were crooked and one of his front incisors had been knocked out on their last mission. “I know, you’re getting up there, huh? When do you have to go for your first colonoscopy?”

Price groaned, dropping his head into his hands to rub his tired eyes. “Not for at least five years.”

Might as well be a minute in the grand scheme of things.

“Everything okay?” Roach asked.

“Aye, lad. Peachy. What can I do for you?”

“Got a leave request for the holidays. I want to spend ‘em with my parents.”

He reached over the desk for the papers then leaned back in his chair, boots on the desk. “What, no girlfriend to spend them with?”

The man laughed, rubbing his upper arm awkwardly.

Price raised an eyebrow. “Or, uh, no… boyfriend? To spend them with? Which would be no problem, if you did.”

His face flushed. Price liked the sight.

“I’m not seeing anyone, at the moment. Being in the S.A.S. makes dating tough. My mum's gonna make dinner.”

“Aw, don’t tell me you’re not heading over early to help?” Price scolded.

“I’ve only requested Christmas and the day after off… I’ll help clean up!”

“Damn right you will,” Price said, sliding the papers back across the desk. “Add Christmas Eve so you can be a good boy and help your old lady. Then I’ll approve.”

Roach nodded. Price expected him to leave but, to the Captain’s surprise, he flopped down in a chair.

“Don’t you have duties to attend to, Sergeant?”

“Lunchtime. I’ll bring you chow if you pretend I’m not lollygagging.”

Price was hungry, and his sciatica had been acting up again—it shot pain down his right leg for a few minutes whenever he stood up or sat down. “Deal,” he agreed without much deliberation. Plus, it meant the eye candy stuck around a little longer.

Roach put his arms behind his head and leaned back. He carried his strength in more of a swimmer’s build rather than bulking as much as Ghost or Soap. Definitely strong, though. Well defined muscles flexed below his shirt as he stretched. Price sighed again—he’d lost much of his own definition over the years despite being just as strong. And the aches only ever got worse.

“Are you sure everything is okay?”

“Don’t worry about me, Sanderson. Having a mid-life crisis, is all.”

He flashed that gap-toothed grin. “Hey, you’re not that old!”

“I’m no spring chicken.”

“Okay, well. When you talk like that I can only assume you were born in the fifties.”

Price rolled his eyes. “Way to hit a man while he’s down.”

Roach laughed.

Price didn’t. He thinned his lips, opened his mouth to start speaking once or twice, pressed his fingertips together. Finally, he asked, “Do I act old?”

“I didn’t mean to make you feel bad! It’s fine, really.”

“Hasn’t felt fine lately. I’m greying. Gonna be balding soon, I bet. Got crows feet, smile lines, droopy skin… I’m not the heartthrob I used to be. Enjoy it while it lasts, lad.”

Roach leaned forward. “Hey, don’t be like that! Think of it this way: you’re a DILF now. Once the D turns into more of a G, you’ll just be in your silver fox era.”

“What’s a DILF?”

Roach grimaced. “I was hoping you knew what that meant already.”

Price totally did. GILF, too. But he wanted to see Roach squirm, so he tilted his head in a curious ruse.

“You know what a MILF is, right?”

He nodded.

“So you can guess what the D stands for, right?”

“Are you calling me a ‘dad you’d like to fuck?’”

He took sick joy in the way Roach covered his eyes, immediately pink from his clavicle to the tips of his ears.

Roach said, “It’s—It’s a figure of speech, Sir.”

“I get it, I get it, I’m messing around.”

Price half expected the Sergeant to leave for lunch now that he was mortified. He didn’t. Price’s stomach growled; maybe he could speed this along.

“What makes me a ‘dad you’d like to fuck?’”

“Quit saying that!”

He just laughed.

Surprisingly, Roach kept talking, sweet-talking, even. “Uh, I guess it’s the salt and pepper that does it.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. And the way you carry yourself. You’re strong and confident ‘cause you’re experienced. Well-seasoned. It implies you've been around the block once or twice, if you catch my drift.” Roach’s face only got pinker.

“So you like a man more experienced than you?”

“Captain!”

Price had to backpedal. “Just joking! Nothing wrong if you do. Or don’t.” He chuckled and sighed. “Don’t mind me, I’m a dirty old bastard. Go get lunch, and change that leave request.”

“R-right.”

Roach was out the door before Price could change his mind. Maybe he sped things up too fast.

‘Been around the block once or twice.’

‘Experienced.’

Sounded like Roach wanted to be collared, leashed, and taken for a walk.

…

About ten minutes later the Sergeant returned carrying two meals, again scaring the piss out of Price when he tossed the metal tray onto the desk and a jacket potato threatened to jump out of its designated cubby.

“Christ alive! You didn’t knock this time, either—!”

“Yes, I did! Sir!”

“No, you didn’t! At least I know you’re not a bloody vampire.”

“But I do bite.”

“Great,” Price said sarcastically. “I’ll send in an purchase request for a muzzle, then. Go on, sit.”

He enjoyed the scarlet red Roach immediately turned.

“What had you distracted this time, Captain?”

Being too old to die young anymore. Dying old and ugly and alone.

“Nothing,” Price answered. “Not a thing.”

“Still feeling old?”

“Yup. And It’s getting worse by the second. You’ll be in my shoes, one day. If you’re lucky. You’ll prune up, lose that pretty face, hunch over like a question mark. All your hair will fall out. I bet yours will start from the crown of your head rather than recede; you’ll look like a monk.”

“Don’t be so negative. It’s natural. It’s maturity. Like wine!”

Price smirked. “I don’t believe it. Don’t flatter me, kid, that’s how you become a kiss-ass. I already peaked around your age. It’s all downhill from here; been going downhill for a while.”

Roach clicked his tongue. “It’s not kissing ass if you’re the one turning away from my compliments and pulling your pants down. I can’t help if you won’t listen.”

“I’m not an auditory learner.”

“Ha-ha. You’re a physical one, right?”

“How’d you know?”

“Said it yourself. Dirty old bastard.”

He laughed. His mouth moved before his brain could filter it. “Well, if you teach me why I’m a DILF, I’ll share what I’ve learned on my adventures.”

Roach’s mouth gaped and his eyes went wide. Price nearly saw the discharge notice flying at him—then the Sergeant crossed his legs to hide a boner. Price would be lying if he claimed that didn’t make him hard as a rock.

He paused. Cocked an eyebrow. “Are we pretending I didn’t see that, Sanderson?”

Roach wouldn’t look his way.

“You’re not in trouble. Lock the door, I’ll show you a thing or two. Or leave and there’s no harm done, aye?”

Roach’s brows furrowed. He looked at his Captain, then the door, then his lunch, then repeated the circuit. “Can we eat first? I’m starving.”

He smiled. “Brilliant idea.”

…

And so they ended up locked in Price’s dark office together, the Captain in his chair as Roach straddled his lap.

“You’re so sexy,” Roach said, feeling Price’s trapezius muscles, digging in to release tension. His fingers slipped under the man’s shirt collar. “I can’t believe you don’t see it.”

Price moaned. He couldn’t help it, gripping Roach by the hips as the Sergeant trailed kisses up his stubbly neck. Next thing he knew his shirt was untucked and Roach took warm handfuls of his hairy tummy.

“Not as… toned as it used to be,” Price said sheepishly, eyes closed for reasons he couldn’t explain. It felt more comfortable that way.

“I love it. It’s perfect. And I can still feel the muscles underneath—you’re just as strong.”

“Yeah, yeah. Butter me up. It won’t get you anywhere special.”

Roach pulled away. Price leaned forward to chase kisses now withheld, peaking one eye open when an arm across his chest pinned him in place.

“Something wrong, Sanderson?”

The man stared down his nose at Price. “How long’s it been since anyone’s given you any appreciation?” He asked.

“Huh? Oh…” Price tapped his fingers on the arm of the chair. “Can’t remember, so I reckon it’s been a while. Once you’re in my position you’re in charge of dishing it out to keep moral high.”

Roach hummed. “I mean in your love life.”

“The well’s run dry since I've been a Captain. Always been more of a giver, though.”

“Let me change that.”

[morganski-19]

The One with the Trifle Pt 1

Pretend it’s Thanksgiving please and thank you. Flashback to Eddie’s first Thanksgiving after moving to the city. (If you’re a friends fan or know this episode, this will only be about the trifle bit and not the secret revealing section at the end of the episode. That will be coming at another time.)

Robin is standing in the kitchen with a large glass container in front of her. She’s carefully reading the instructions of a cookbook, pulling out ingredients as she goes. Steve comes out of the bathroom and walks over to the kitchen.

“Are you sure you got the dessert this year? We both know what happened last Christmas,” he asks, again. For the third time.

Robin rolls her eyes. “That was a fluke. I think I really got it this time. And, nothing is going in the oven, just stove top.”

“You say that like it makes it better. I’ve seen you burn water before.”

“No, that was dry pasta that I forgot to add the right amount of water to, so it dried up and then burned. But that was years ago. Now I know how to use the stovetop.”

Steve sighs. “If you need anything, I mean anything, I’ll be right across the hall helping Nancy with the rest of the food. No question is too stupid to ask me.”

“We both know that is a lie.”

“What are you making anyway?” Steve leans over the counter to see the cookbook.

Robin picks it up to show him. “It’s a trifle, from this old British cookbook I found at the thrift store. Cute, right.”

“Yeah, if you don’t fuck it up.”

Robin smacks him with the book. “Out, out. Go help Nancy and stop making fun of me.”

“I don’t think I’ll ever stop making fun of you, but whatever.” Steve walks across the hall to Nancy’s apartment. She’s in the kitchen basting the turkey while Eddie, Argyle, and Jonathan are sitting on the couch watching the parade.

“Steve, thank God. I needed someone who,” she turns her head to the living room, “actually knows what they’re doing.” She stares at the back of Eddie’s head.

Eddie makes a large gesture. “I didn’t know it was possible to fuck up cutting green beans.”

“It is when you cut them like this.” Nancy holds up a green bean sliced down the middle lengthways.

Steve winces. “How the hell did you think this is how you cut green beans.”

Eddie stands up. “That’s it. I’m going to hang out with Robin, at least she won’t make fun of me.”

“You sure about that,” Argyle snorts.

“She is just as bad as cooking as Eddie apparently is, it’s honestly fifty-fifty with how this goes.” Steve starts to peel the bowl of potatoes.

Eddie gives them the finger before shutting the door.

“Speaking of,” Jonathan turns to face the kitchen, “Do we have a backup dessert for when Robin eventually ends up burning hers?”

Nancy gives Steve a death glare. “Do you want to explain or should I?”

Steve sighs. “I had parent teacher conferences yesterday and didn’t have time to bake anything.”

“Because.”

Another sigh. “Because I went on a date with this girl I’ve been talking to for a few weeks.”

Argyle stiffens, having gotten close to Eddie in the past few months. Knowing how he feels about Steve. “I didn’t know you were seeing anyone.”

Steve shrugs. “It’s not that serious to be honest. We’ve only been on the one date.”

“And now we will end up eating whatever Robin ends up burning because someone couldn’t push it off until next week.” Nancy angrily jabs at the bread she is cutting.

“Woah, Nance, take a deep breath. Your parents aren’t coming this year, it’s just us. There’s nothing to stress about.” Steve stops peeling the potatoes to try and rub her shoulder, only to get his hand swatted away.

“Yeah,” Argyle agrees. “I’ve eaten plenty of Robin’s burnt cookies, and I’m still here. Some of them were pretty good actually.”

Steve gets a text from Robin.

Robin: Quick questions, how do I tell if the butter is browned

Robin sends an image

Steve: About five minutes before it looks like that

Robin: Shit

A while later, Steve is watching the stove while Nancy takes a break on the couch. Eddie opens the door, barely poking his head through before calling Steve into the hall. He calls Nancy back into the kitchen before heading out into the hall with Eddie.

“So,” Eddie draws out as Steve closes the door. “We have a bit of a problem.”

“Oh God, what did she do?”

“There’s beef involved.”

Steve’s eyes bug out. “What? Beef? How, I thought she was making a trifle.”

“She mostly is,” Eddie says. “Just this cookbook is the weirdest one ever where the recipes are mixed in with each other instead of in their own sections. And it’s an old book, and some of the pages were stuck together. So, turn the page to get to the rest of the recipe, and it’s a recipe for shepherd’s pie.”

Steve makes a horrified face. “Nancy is going to kill me. Like straight up murder. I will be dead tomorrow.”

“Why? Robin’s the one making the dessert. Shouldn’t she be the dead one.”

“That’s the thing. I always have a backup dessert. It’s a little game we play each year. Robin wants to try to bake again but leaves it in a little too long and it gets burnt. Or accidently adds salt instead of sugar. Or thinks she knows better than the recipe and adds too much flour. So, then I come in with another dessert for the people who don’t like to eat burnt cake. She isn’t the best at cooking, or baking, but she tries, and it brings her so much joy, so we let her do it and eat the dessert. But then mine is like the palate cleanser. Except this year there isn’t a palate cleanser and we’re going to eat a trifle with beef in it.” Steve takes in a deep breath, trying not to hyperventilate.

Eddie nods, trying to process everything. “That’s kind of sweet that you guys eat messed up baked goods just to make her happy.”

“Yeah well, it’s Robin. No one really likes to make her upset. Which she will be if we let her know that this is a major fuck up.”

“So we’re going to eat the beef dessert thing. There’s fruit and custard involved.” Eddie makes a disgusted face.

Steve gags at the thought. “Yeah, yep, yes. We are. I’m going to do damage control, you keep her happy. And if the pages become unstuck before the beef gets added, no one will be mad at you for interfering.”

“It’s already been done. There is no stopping it.”

“Alright then. I’m going to go get murdered, it’s been nice knowing you.”

Eddie nods before going back into Robin’s apartment. Steve takes a deep breath before walking back into the apartment.

“What did Eddie want?” Nancy asks.

“Nothing that important, Jon can I talk to you for a second.” Steve rushes past Nancy and pulls Jonathan into Eddie’s room. “We have a problem.”

Jonathan adjusts his shirt. “One that you had to physically pull me into a bedroom for.”

“Yes. Robin mixed up two recipes and now there’s beef in an English Trifle.” Steve makes a face like he’s bracing for impact.

Jonathan stands there silent for a few seconds, blinking. “It was nice knowing you.” He pats Steve on the shoulder.

Steve rolls his eyes. “I am already very aware of the fact that I am dead, but we do in fact have to eat the beef trifle.”

“No we don’t,” Jonathan says with disbelief.

“It’s Robin,” Steve shrugs. “We have to.”

Jonathan nods, pained. “We do. Remind me to get super high before dessert comes out, it will help it all go down. Hell, I might like it.”

“You mind telling Argyle about this, I have to go tell Nancy.”

“I’ll go guard the knives. Good luck.”

Steve and Jonathan leave the room. Jonathan going over to Argyle and whispering something in his ear, Argyle seeming indifferent to the news. Steve takes a deep breath before asking Nancy to talk in her room.

“What happened?” Nancy cuts to the chase, crossing her arms.

“Robin. Lovely, sweet, kind, sometimes confused when it comes to baking, Robin. May have mixed up two recipes when making the dessert.”

Nancy takes the first part well. “That doesn’t seem too bad. They were both desserts, right?”

“That’s the thing. Apparently, this book has the recipes mixed up and not in sections. So when the pages were stuck together, one page was an English trifle, and the other was a Shapard’s pie.”

“What,” Nancy yells. “How can those to be mixed up?”

“I don’t know, I wasn’t there. I was here helping you with the rest of the food.” Steve takes a step back.

Nancy follows after her, slapping him on the arm. “I can’t believe this. Robin is going to be crushed when we won’t eat it. Then she’ll be mortified when she realizes her mistake.”

Steve makes a pained face.

“Steve, we’re not going to eat this are we?” Nancy’s death glare sets in again.

“It’s Robin, of course we have to.”

Nancy starts hitting him again mixed in with anger about his mess up. When she calms down, she says, “I am doing this, not for you, but for Robin. Because I cannot even begin to think about how she’s going to react when she figures this all out.”

Nancy leaves the room without saying another word. Steve goes back to the living room and flops on the couch, being dramatic about the nonexistent bruises that Nancy gave him. She did not hit him as hard as she could have, or wanted to.

“Get up you big baby and get your ass back into the kitchen,” Nancy says from the kitchen.

Steve turns his head towards Jonathan and Argyle. “You know, sometimes I wonder why we broke up in college. And then I am reminded why.” He stands and goes to the kitchen.

part 2 coming tomorrow

Tag list (let me know if you want to be added or taken off) @slowandsteddie, @annieofhearts, @cacdyke, @ubpd, @captain--low, @thespaceantwhowrites, @goodolefashionedloverboi, @anne-bennett-cosplayer, @lunaticparisianlady, @apomaro-mellow, @dolphincliffs, @dragonmama76, @maggiebug417, @stevesbipanic, @fearieshadow, @eightpackdiaz, @au79burger @bookworm0690 , @practicallybegging, @potato-of-the-lord, @autumncrocusandladybug, @estrellami-1

[glazedsnail]

Fanficcy

We're closing in to the end (not yet there's like at least 4 parts left lmao)

Misery Loved Company

ShanexOCFarmer (♀️) 18+ / swear words/substance misuse/explicit/suicide ideation/mention of abuse/Blood/injury

I know a good fanfic writer links her parts but I don't feel like it tonight I dribbled tea on my chest and that's tea that'll never end up in my belly.

Look at my family waiting for the jellyfishes. I'm taking Jas with me and there's nothing you can do about it.

Look at us all purple fresh and then there's goober with brown hair smh.

(I have a full folder of screenshots that can last me until I actually play the game again) (I had purple hair/green eyes combo before even knowing the existence of Shane this was truly meant to be)

‘Ok she’s back. Thank you Maru.’

‘I’m back?’

‘The hematoma isn’t new, do you recall when it might have happened?’

‘What do you mean I’m back?’

‘You dozed off a little, Maru got the blood needed. Fern, do you remember anything?’

‘Yes, I mean, yes. I fell face first. What’s this? How do you know my blood type?’

Harvey sighs, I’m obviously being difficult. Maru is softly laughing, removing the empty perfusion bag from the stent in my arm.

‘We have your medical records, on top of having a bank of universal donors if you want to know everything. Now can you answer MY questions? Fern?’

‘My medical records?’

‘When did you fall? Was that before the cut? Do you feel nauseous?’

‘Last night, or early this morning I’m not sure. I’m sorry.’

‘You are in a safe space, alright? Maru thank you again for the stitches. If anyone’s still outside let them know she’s fine.’

The young nurse starts walking towards the door.

‘But no one is allowed in until I say so, is that clear?’

She nods, getting herself ready. 

‘Ok Fern’ Harvey starts ‘I’ll keep you in tonight for observation. But tomorrow we’ll have to send you to Zuzu city for an MRI, alright?’

‘What about my arm?’

‘It was deep, but the shards missed any major arteries or tendons. You’ll get some blisters from the boiling water but’

‘Wait a minute, how do you know?’

He chuckles.

‘Wow you were really out weren’t you? You told us about the glasses and the tea and all.’

‘And all?’

‘Actually that was pretty much it. Do you want to keep the pieces of glass Maru extracted?’

He casually hands me a porcelain bowl with glistening small bits of glass, bloodied gauze, and a pair of tweezers. 

‘I, huh.’

‘I’m joking’ he adds, replacing the bowl on its tray. ‘There’s a bell if you need anything during the night. Anything urgent that is. I’ll phone Gus, see if Emily can deliver you some dinner. Craving anything in particular?’

‘I’m not hungry.’

‘The fusspot special then. Fern you’ve lost a lot of blood, you need to eat. I’ll be upstairs, ok?’

He disappears behind the curtains and I hear the door closing. It’s odd to have a friend turn on their bedside manners…

I feel so silly. Everything hurts so much. And I’m terrified of the town speculations.

Marnie did see it happen, she’d be able to help me dismiss any rumours. Then again, this is the perfect opportunity for her to confirm her narrative. That I’m way too unstable for Shane. 

What a thing to say. Coming to my house, waste my tea, drink my juice. Question my sanity. Forbid me to see her nephew. Nephew who made it clear he didn’t want to see me anyway.

I fall back on the large pillow with a sigh. The stitches are already itchy. The hospital gown is thin like toilet paper. The duvet is too thick. The perfusion stent is uncomfortable. Wait, hospital gown? How long was I out? Where are my clothes?

I’m too upset.

And hungry.

I pass my hand on my tired face. I try to remember what happened and what was said during the panic. I think about Vincent and Jas. Way to traumatise a generation. I carefully touch the bump on my forehead. “I’ll take you to Harvey’s in the morning.” He said. I scoff. Right. I didn’t believe a word he said anyway. That whole date was an absolute disaster. I had no fun, no laugh. Nothing. I faked through the whole ordeal. Comfortable arms? Soft lips? Warm smile? Kind eyes? … I slap myself. Left hand against my forehead.

‘Ow, ouch, oh what a fucking idiot’ I wince, folding myself over in pain. I never want to see him ever again.

Someone knocks on the door and doesn’t even wait for an answer to open. I assume it’s Emily with my food. ‘Ugh Emily I’m so happy to see you. I hope you brought something good, I’m starving. I have so much to tell you, you’re… Oh. It’s you.’

The curtain opened and out appeared Shane, holding a box.

‘What are you doing here?’ I ask, crawling back under the duvet.

‘Emily told me she had to deliver this to the hospital. I knew it was for you, so…’

‘Very professional of Emily I see…’

He puts the box on the bedside table and grabs a chair.

‘I’m not going to beat around the bush, Fern. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I left so abruptly last night.’

‘It’s ok, no sweat.’ I lie.

‘It’s absolutely not ok. It’s never ok. Especially after… the time we spent together.’

My thighs tense up at the reminder. I try really hard not to look at him, lest I see his lustful eyes and sleazy smile on top of me, his sweaty body all over my naked skin.

I shiver.

Well that was an exercise in futility.

‘What do you want.’ I say in the coldest tone I can while my brain showers me with millions of images of me and Shane completely naked. 

Hardly appropriate. ‘I mainly came to see how you’re doing.’

‘I’m fine.’ I cut short

‘Do you mind telling me what happened?’

‘Ask your aunt.’

‘Excuse me?’

‘You heard me.’ I’m bitter. Who wouldn’t? ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about, Fern. Did Marnie come to visit you?’

I scoff. How dare he?

‘Shane, please, don’t piss on me and tell me it’s raining, ok?

‘At least look at me.’

‘No.’

‘Fern, I’m sorry I hurt you. Leaving you there, in the chicken coop I… Well I panicked. I simply panicked. I don’t have any excuses other than I fucking panicked. Remembered how and why I was being so… rude to you in the first place, and seeing how we were now, it just…What if in the end I’m just… reverting back to that jerk… Fern, look at me!’

‘You know there’s a bell I can tug at to get Harvey down.’ 

‘You wouldn’t do that.’

‘Try me’

‘You wouldn’t bother anyone to get rid of me, one, you’re too polite, and self conscious. And two, for some reason I can’t understand you.. Like me? Still?’

‘So you came here to insult me, I see.’

He carefully grabs my heavily bandaged arm.

‘Did you… do that yourself?’

‘I said ask your aunt.’

‘Did SHE do that?’

I chuckle, what an idiot.

‘Yes, actually. She came in and said “if you touch my nephew again I’ll cut your arm, worthless farmer!” and did this to show me she wasn’t kidding.’

He laughs, the bastard.

‘Fern’

‘It’s not that far from the truth, you know.’

He stays silent, dumbfounded.

‘W-what?’ He stutters after a moment. I finally look at him. He’s out of his Joja uniform, making me realise how long I did pass out. He looks even more tired than usual. And worried. His cold hands are cradling mine, softly rubbing it with his thumbs. He brings it to his lips and kisses it. His other hand reaches my hair he tucks behind my ear.

‘Nasty bump there.’

‘See, I ended up at Harvey’s without your help’

He bites into his lip and looks down. We stay silent for a while, his hand rubbing mine, and I feel terrible to play with him like that. I, probably, didn’t need to bring Marnie in the conversation, when he’s already confused. ‘I broke a glass, in…Hum, in anger. And instead of, you know, doing the sensible thing like going to the hospital, I spend too long trying to fix it myself…’’ 

He softly kisses the bandages. I remember him seeing the wound and asking what I did, in the panic of it all. I kinda see where he’s coming from. But I’ll never admit it.

‘So’ I start ‘ What did Gus prepare for me?’

‘I actually don’t know, I just grabbed the box and left.’ He hands me the warm lunch box.

‘No notes this time?’ He dares say, in a laugh.

‘Like you’re in a position to make jokes. Aw! Some fried mushrooms and eggplant parmesan. Nice.’

‘So, does he know your favourite too then?’

‘Only one of them is my favourite’ I say, biting into a mushroom. ‘I’ll let you guess which one.’

‘I’m a terrible cook but I’m willing to try.’

I almost choke on my mushroom bite. Who said anything about cooking what for who now. I sigh.

‘He also packed some cookies. Do you, erm. Do you want to join me and grab some?’

‘You don’t want me to leave you alone? You won’t ring on Harvey?’

I laugh.

‘If anything happens, know that I have the power to make him come down in an instant!’

‘What pyjamas do you think he wears?’

‘I can ring to find out.’ I joke, extending my arm to the chord.

He laughs, timidly, and smiles at me. I smile back. I can’t fight it. I shuffle slowly to the side and pat the bed.

‘Come on. Let’s have a cookie sleepover.’

He chuckles and joins me.

‘Aren’t you cold in that gown?’ He asks, looking at me out of the cover, before lifting it for himself. ‘Oh shit that’s heavy duty stuff.’

‘Yeah I barely need the gown at all, it’ll make me sweaty.’

He laughs, locking his eyes into mine. I feel myself breathing heavily, looking back at him. He softly caresses my cheek, my neck, reaches my shoulder and undo the first knot of the hospital  gown. He sighs, breathing heavily too.

‘Harvey could hear us’ I say in one whisper, helping him put the box of food aside and get rid of his belt.

‘I’ll have to keep you quiet’ he says in my ear. I shiver, let him devour my neck, climb slowly, delicately, on top of me.

‘Watch for the stent.’

‘I’ll be very careful, the softest.’ He slowly inserts himself inside of me with incredible ease. He tries to conceal a groan as he feels my wet inside surrounding him, ready for him.

He breathes heavily against my neck. I grab him, letting him fall completely into me. He moves ever so slowly, making me taste every inch of him in a delicious soft dance, punctuated by his breathing and low growl.

‘You ok baby? I’m not hurting you?’

I shiver.

‘N-no’ I whisper back ‘This feels..Ah..Great.’

I fail at concealing a moan. Shane softly covers my mouth with his hand.

‘Shh. You’re gonna get us caught.’ he whispers directly in my ear, moving with the only goal of making me explicitly squeal.

He’s enjoying it. This is outrageous. I’ve never been so turned on in my life. 

‘That’s my good girl.’ He looks at me, still covering my mouth, moving his hips to overwhelm me, forcing me to stay silent. I try to keep my muffled whimpers as down as possible.

‘Shane…’

He kisses me with such intense softness. I grab the back of his head, kissing him back. My eyes are getting wet from the multiple sensations, the edges of pleasures Shane is balancing me on. The risk of getting caught, the self-inflicted restriction of making any kind of noise, while subjected to the creaking of the bed, the wet sound of our bodies merging, and his slow breathing against my skin. 

I lift my bandaged arm to him.

‘Ha shit.’

‘Are you ok?’

‘Yeah I’m sorry ah.. No, don’t stop… It’s only my arm. I almost forgot why I was there.’

‘Almost?’ He replies, kissing all the free skin he can find. ‘Then I’m not doing a good job.’ he laughs, moving inside me, making me yelp.

‘Shane!’

‘Shh.’

‘You certainly are enjoying yourself’ I say between gasps and heavy breathings. ‘Are you not?’ He asks, attacking me with a stronger thrust.

‘Fuck, Shane!’

‘I said: “are you not?”’ I yield, like I’m able to do anything else. ‘I am…’ I grab him by the back of his head, locking him with my legs. ‘ I love feeling your hard cock inside my warm pussy.’ I feel him try to conceal a spasm. Despite it all, it seems I know how to get the upper hand.

‘Fern…’ 

I’m overstimulated by his slow passionate fuck, the low sound of his whispering voice.

‘F-Fern.’ he repeats, slowly moving between my legs.

He buries his head in my neck. I bite into his shoulder. Tears fall down my temples as I conceal a scream, barely. I hear him growl, feel him tremble, feel his warmth covering my walls. 

‘Fuck Fern I’m sorry.’

‘It’s ok… It’s ok, don’t worry. No please stay… stay inside of me…’ 

‘I couldn’t…Control anything I’

I laugh

‘Shane it’s fine. Come don’t worry.’ I grab him back to let him fall on me, give him some rest. He works on getting his breathing back to normal, I play with his hair, feeling my heart pumping in my chest. I try to process how we came at the same time, like two stupid romance protagonists. I laugh to myself. After a while, disappointingly, he slips down next to me.

‘Are you gonna leave?’ I try to sound completely disinterested whatever he chooses. After all, about an hour ago I said I didn’t want to see him ever again. Then I saw him again, and invited him on my hospital bed, made him comfortable in between my legs, cried at the overwhelming pleasure he inflicted on me I… I need to stop and reevaluate my convictions. ‘No, unless you want me to.’

‘I guess you got what you came for.’

‘Fern’ He shuffles against me, moving his fingers delicately on my tender skin. ‘I know you don’t believe that of me.’

‘There’s been precedent.’

‘I had no clue this would happen’ he simply says, now kissing my chest ‘It’s certainly not why I came here.’

‘Then why?’

‘I still haven’t had any of those cookies for starters’

I slap his shoulder, failing to push him off the bed. He has no right to make me laugh.

He gains back his composure and sits up. ‘First of all, I wanted to check on you.’ He grabs me in his arms, making himself more comfortable on the hospital bed. He accidentally pushes his shorts, all with belt and set of keys, off the mattress. It all falls in a loud repeating clink of noises. We both brace ourselves, keeping an ear out for “old man Harv’” running down the stairs. Nothing. Fortunately. We both sigh and he continues. ‘When Caroline ran into Joja she was white as a sheet. She was shouting for Harvey. I was trying to calm her down and help her find the doc but then she said your name.  I let her there, and took off. As stupid as it was of me. She was panic stricken, about something that happened to you. I was so scared.’ I see his eyes shifting left and right. The memories of this afternoon are mixing with distant ones. Distant memories of hurt loved ones he’ll never be able to process. He wasn’t there. He couldn’t be there. It haunts him. I grab his shaking hand.

‘And then I saw everyone outside the clinic. Jas ran to me, crying. Penny’s hands covered in blood. I tried to ask what happened, Jas was crying on my shoulder. I got no answers. I had to run in. This.. rush overrode every sense in me, telling me I had to see you now, just in case.’  He’s trembling. I realise he’s having some sort of PTSD episode. I catch him, pulling him towards me.

‘Take a deep breath, Shane. You’re fine. I’m fine. It’s ok.’ I cradle him in my arms, swaying side to side, softly humming. ‘I did tell you about Jas’ parents.’

I nod, feeling the tears gathering in my eyes.

‘And you did the best you could. For her, and for yourself.’

I tightens my arms around him as much as my injury and this stupid stent allow me. ‘I’m fine, Shane. Look at me. All I’ll get is a stupid scar. We’re all fine, ok?’

He removes himself from my arms.

‘I’m sorry, I…I’m not sure what happened.’ He says, wiping his wet eyes.

‘You’ve had to process so much on your own, to keep strong for others, on your own.’ I recall Marnie’s words from this afternoon, asking me to leave Shane alone, for his own sake. Is she right? Would I bring him down? I’m in such a better place than ever before, that’s got to count for something, right? I don’t want to die anymore.

‘Fern?’

‘What?’

‘I said “how’s your arm?” You’re rubbing it.’ I didn’t even realise I’ve been doing that.

‘It’s ok. Harvey said it looked fine. He even asked if I wanted to keep the shards but he was joking.’

He laughs ‘That’d be kinda cool.’

‘Right? And he just threw them away.’

‘What if he actually keeps everything and has a collection box or something.’

‘Shane that’s so gross’

‘I know but imagine, everything that’s been inside someone’s body! A Pelican Town time capsule, a keepsake of some sort.’

‘So, he’s got shards of glass from me, what else?’

‘Well, I’m not sure how well pumped stomach content would keep.’

‘Oh of course, that night…’ 

I look to the side, to the empty bed in the corner Shane was occupying that night I stumbled upon him on the cliff. Harvey had done a great job preventing Shane from falling to alcohol poisoning. I shudder at the idea of what could’ve happened.

Shane grabs my chin, turning my head to him instead of the empty bed full of bad memories.

‘I’m fine.’ he says, knowing exactly what I was thinking about. ‘I mean, not…”fine”, but, I’m ok.’ he quickly adds, laughing. 

‘Can you stay with me a little longer?’ I ask, nuzzling into his chest. ‘I don’t want to be alone in this room.’

‘You can always ring for Harvey to come down’ he answers with a grin. ‘Yeah, you know what. I might. He seems like a good cuddler. Good night, Shane.’ I reply, turning my back on him and covering myself with the heavy blanket. ‘Don’t forget your pants on the way out.’

He laughs, I feel him shuffling down, lying next to me. He passes his arm under my neck and intertwines his fingers with mine. I’m too stunned to say anything. His other arm is resting on my waist, his hand on my chest. His leg pushes mines to insert himself in between.  I hear him sigh, and he kisses the top of my head.

‘G’night, baby’ he says in a soft whisper.

I’m, err, surprised? Pleasantly surprised that is.

I can’t help but feel bitter. I should have told about Marnie, about what she wants, what she knows, from his own mouth.

I didn’t say anything, I let him make love to me. Ha! Let him. Like I didn’t want it as much, if not more. I let him weaken me, make me laugh, remind me that I fell in love with him. He genuinely seems to not know about Marnie’s little visit. It wouldn’t be his choice. If he didn’t want me around he wouldn’t be spooning me right now.

But perhaps Marnie’s right. I can be a bad influence on him. All my talks about trying to be together and see, were they just to serve me? I don’t know properly why I fell for him. The only certain thing is that I want him happy. Do I want it enough to let him be happy without me? What if his happiness is kept at bay because of me? Every day he’d look at me and know that I tried to kill myself once. I can’t possibly bring him any good.

I can’t choose for him.

He holds me closer, as if to calm my troubled thoughts.

‘Good night, Shane.’ I finally whisper back.

[gabriel-xander]

Don't Forget

[Sans x Female!Reader]

15: Let's Talk About Your Car's Extended Warranty

♪⁠────✿⁠(⁠✧◕⁠ᴗ⁠◕✧⁠)✿⁠────♪

The call goes as well as you expect it to. You made sure to tell her you really couldn’t talk for long since Sans’ brother (yes, you told her his name, it’s only fair if she knows), Papyrus, wants to discuss some house rules over dinner. She let you go soon after, reassured when you told her you call her again later today when you get settled down.

You actually really like the balcony: it’s facing the direction of Waterfalls and it’s just cozy. You might bring a chair out here whenever you want some alone time.

Going back inside and down stairs, you see that the table that was pushed against the right wall (the one with their pet rock that was still there) was pulled away from said wall. There are three, identical wooden chairs: one on the left, one on the right, and one at the head of the table closest to the kitchen. The pie was already freed from its container and set on the table next to the pet rock.

Sans was already sitting at the head of the table, and he motions for you to take the seat on the right side. You do so without any complaint. There’s already forks on the table alongside glasses of water and a pitcher of iced water, too.

Respectfully, they have GOT to rearrange the minimal furniture in this house.

“everything okay?”

“Yep! Gonna call her again later though,” You clasp your hands and set them on the table, “I—told her your name because I thought it’s only right if she knows who I’m staying with.”

He tenses up, “and?”

“And… She wanted me to tell you her name in return,” You smile at him with a wink, “So the story is that Napstablook didn’t tell you shit, okay?”

Sans sighs for the nth time that day, “you’re trying to give me a heart attack, aren’t ya?”

“Whoops! Sorry, I didn’t know you didn’t have the guts to handle it.”

Before the punny monster can quip back, the greatest monster to have ever lived bounces into the living room with a flourish. Two plates of spaghetti in his hands and he sets them down gently in front of you and his brother.

“where’s your plate, bro?”

“IT SEEMS THAT I MAY HAVE UNWITTINGLY UNDERESTIMATED HOW MUCH I NEEDED TO MAKE. I’M SO USED TO MAKING ONLY ENOUGH JUST FOR YOU AND I.” Papyrus sighs so sadly,  “BUT YOU TWO NEED NOT WORRY. I AM WILLING TO MAKE THIS SMALL, YET PAINFUL, SACRIFICE SO THAT YOU TWO CAN ENJOY MY COOKING!”

Jesus.

You’re slightly scared for your life, but you can’t help but still feel grateful he cooked something for you at all to welcome you. Even if it’s going to taste bad (maybe it’s not that bad and Sans was exaggerating?), you want to at LEAST take ONE bite.

“Thank you for the food, Papyrus!”

“YOU ARE MOST CERTAINLY WELCOME! FEEL FREE TO DIG IN,” He widens his eye sockets, “OH, I NEARLY FORGOT SOMETHING. I’LL BE RIGHT BACK.”

As the frantic skeleton hurries back to the kitchen, you scrunch up your nose and take the fork. Whelp, rip in pieces you. You stick your fork into the noodles (they feel kind of stiff, you don’t think they’re fully cooked) and twirl the utensil. Sans looks at you like you’re fucking crazy.

“you’re not seriously gonna eat it, are you??”

“Well yeah, dude. What else is there to do? He made it for me, of course I’m gonna eat it,” You shrug and bring the food to your mouth, “Bone Apple Tea, I guess.”

“wait!”

But wait you did not.

Your face reflexively scrunches up.

The taste is indescribable.

…

IS WHAT YOU WOULD SAY IF YOU’RE BEING NICE ABOUT IT!!!

You grip the fork tightly in your fist, your other hand covering your mouth as your body hunches over.

The noodles are under-cooked and you can just tell he didn’t add salt to the water. The tomato sauce was too clumpy and whatever fucking seasoning he used made it taste as though it was already expired. The meat for the meatballs was way overcooked, super dry, and was a horrible mix with the sauce.

Your heart (and taste buds) was broken and hurting: how could ANYONE lie to Papyrus about his cooking?! The food is so awful and not fit for consumption; this could seriously get you sick were it not for the fact that it’s made of magic.

You force yourself to swallow it down even though you weren’t done chewing. It hurt like a bitch but you couldn’t keep it on your tongue without running the risk of throwing it up.

That’s what she said.

You notice Sans’ pained and sympathetic expression as you reach for your water and chug it down like there’s no tomorrow. It wasn’t nearly enough so you stole Sans’ water (“hey!”) because you can’t wait to serve yourself another glass.

You slam the glass down. “Ahhh! Oh, my God!!” You whisper-shout, “What the hell was that?!”

“i warned you not to!”

“I didn’t think it would be like that!!” You look down at your plate to glare at the offender but, “…Huh?”

“YOU DIDN’T THINK IT WOULD BE LIKE WHAT?”

Papyrus comes back with a bowl of grated cheese, setting it down on the table. You can feel you have some sauce at the corner of your mouth, but you are NOT licking it off. You wipe it off with your thumb instead, eyeing your empty plate.

“YOUR PLATE…!”

Yeah, you’re fucking confused, too! The pasta has completely vanished from yours and Sans’ plate with the only evidence that it was ever there being the sauce residue on the plates, your fork, and now on your thumb where you had wiped it off your face. Sans said he’d help you out, but what did he do? This is his doing, right?

“YOU… YOU REALLY LIKE MY COOKING THAT MUCH, THAT YOU ATE IT SO QUICKLY?”

His face is full of hope, and his hope is so unbelievably fragile. You know that when the day comes and you finally tell him the truth, it’s just going to hurt more. You could just not do that, but it goes against your morals and principles.

Ohhh, you don’t want to lie to the poor baby! Some way or another, Sans seems to notice this dilemma, and comes to your rescue.

“you should’ve seen it, bro. i don’t think i’ve seen anyone enjoy food like that before.”

“OH, WOWIE!!” Papyrus bounces from joy. “MARK MY WORDS, [Y/N]! I, THE GREATEST CHEF, PAPYRUS, WILL MAKE YOU ALL THE PASTA YOU COULD EVER WANT!”

…Yayyy…

Sans can clearly see the disdain behind your polite smile. He can’t help but feel bad since… Yeah, they (as in himself and his other friend) never should have lied to him about his cooking. Maybe then he would’ve taken the criticism and gotten better. Still, as long as he just uses his magic to toss the spaghetti into the garbage dump, then you’ll be fine.

“I-I’m still feeling kind of hungry though,” You purposely avoided saying anything about the food, huh? “Let’s eat the pie now and talk about what we originally supposed to talk about.”

”YES, GOOD IDEA! FIRST, LET ME TAKE THESE…”

The tall monster takes the plates, forks and the poor bowl of cheese back into the kitchen. You clear your throat and reach for the pitcher of iced water. You refill yours and Sans’ cup.

“… Sorry, your water tasted better,” You lamely say, “Much crispier.”

“eh, forgeddaboudit. you earned it after that stunt,” Sans nods in approval. “you sure got nerves of steel.”

“I also got ten years of my life taken away from me after that,” You huff while shaking your head, “It’s-It’s fine though, what’s done is done.”

Papyrus comes back with three plates, new forks, and a knife. He sets it down in their proper places before he starts to cut up the pie.

“SO, WHERE DO WE EVEN BEGIN?” He asks.

You look at the brother’s silently, but they’re both equally silent. You don’t know why you even expected Sans to know, he hasn’t had anyone other than Papyrus. That’s fine, you’ll be happy to start it off.

“We can start off with discussing some routine we’re all used to. You know, things you guys do everyday, and what I do everyday,” You put a hand on your chest, “For example, my usual routine is make breakfast, clean up around the house if I need to, shower, and lately, I’ve been going out with a friend after that. If it’s a lazy day, I’ll spend it inside and do some of my hobbies. Though hopefully now that I’m here, I can replace that with work.”

“OH, I SEE. SO PRETTY BORING, THEN.”

“PFFT!!” You can’t even get mad, “Yeah, pretty much.”

“I CAN’T SAY MY SCHEDULE IS SET IN STONE, I DO WHATEVER I FEEL LIKE.” By now, the younger brother has given you and himself a nice slice of pie, currently getting another for Sans, “I EAT BREAKFAST, THEN I TRY TO WAKE UP SANS.”

“You try to wake him up?”

“THAT SKELETON WAKES UP WHEN HE WANTS TO WAKE UP.”

“Damn, you’re so real for that, Sans.”

“thank.”

“Welcome.”

“UGH! ANYWAY,” Now that everyone has a slice, he sits down at his seat, “AFTER THAT, I WILL SEE WHERE THE DAY TAKES ME. SOMETIMES I WILL RECALIBRATE MY PUZZLES, OR I WILL TRAIN WITH UNDYNE. OR MAYBE, I’LL DO NONE OF THAT, AND JUST HAVE FUN IN SNOWDIN.”

You’re already eating the pie, feeling the magic replenish your exhaustion. Sans was already halfway done with his slice; it was odd to watch either of them eat because where is it going???

Sans finishes chewing then finally shares his side. “like i told you on the way here, i work at the sentry stations around different parts of the underground. i kinda just work at my own time, though.”

“YOU ALSO HAVE AN ILLEGAL HOTDOG STAND BUSINESS.”

“it’s only illegal if you say it’s illegal.”

“SANS, YOU KNOW THAT’S NOT HOW THAT WORKS!”

“says who?”

“SAYS UNDYNE.”

“but she’s not a cop.”

“BUT SHE IS THE CAPTAIN OF THE ROYAL GUARDS!!”

“you know, i think that’s what’s wrong with this society. too many authoritative figures trying to take down my small business.” Sans points his fork in your direction, “you got my back, right [y/n]?”

Girl, HUH? You were just trying to enjoy the show, not be a part of it!

You laugh softly at their banter still, “I think if you’re gonna do crime, you gotta do it right. I mean, are you even stylish with it, Sans?”

“uhhh…”

“THAT’S WHAT I’M SAYING! HE HAS NO CLASS AT ALL!!”

“Damn, you think you know someone and it turns out he’s not even flamboyant with his illegal activities,” You give Sans the side eye, “To think that I admired you.”

“how did this get turned on me???”

“Not now, Sans. We gotta talk more about our new lives together,” You smile at Papyrus, “Seems like our schedules won’t clash very much. Next we should talk about what we’re expecting from each other.”

“WHAT? BUT I AM EXPECTING NOTHING FROM YOU.”

“yeah, same here.”

You raise an eyebrow, “Really now? So… you don’t expect me to pick up after myself if I leave my things around?”

“uh…”

“WELL…”

“What if after I shower, I leave a mess in the washroom with water puddles and towels everywhere? Oh God, and my hair?”

“YOU-YOU’RE HAIR…?”

“oh god, what about your hair?”

“In simple terms, I shed.”

“WHAT?!”

“oh…”

You start laughing, “This is what I mean! I get it if you’re trying to be polite, but telling me things like you expect me to clean up after myself is important.”

You continue with a more patient expression, “Which is another thing. I personally don’t mind helping with cleaning up around the house, but I don’t want it to turn into me doing ALL the cleaning ALL the time. I also don’t mind doing the cooking too, but if there are days when I don’t wanna do it, then it’d be great if you guys can take care of it. You get what I’m saying? Those are some things that I’m expecting from you two.”

“wow, someone even more responsible than papyrus,” Sans props his elbow on the table and leans his chin on his fist, “but i dunno if that’s sayin’ much if he’s not very responsible to begin with.”

“WHA—I AM CERTAINLY MORE RESPONSIBLE THANYOU ARE, THAT’S FOR SURE!” Papyrus huffs and crosses his arms, “[Y/N], YOU BRING UP VERY GOOD POINTS. I DON’T HAVE ANY PROBLEMS WITH YOUR TERMS.”

“same here, it sounds reasonable so far.”

“And, like, not to sound prissy, but I gotta point out the obvious fact that I’m a lady, and a human. This is a terrible combo because that means I’m a little more high maintenance than the average.” You pointedly shake your head, “Please, do not touch my things, and do not go through my things. I’ll try not to leave my crap out everywhere, but if you see a lady product here and there, just look away.”

“IS BEING A WOMAN SCARY, [Y/N]?”

“Oh, dude. Like you wouldn’t believe,” And that’s putting it gently, “This is all I can really think of right now. If there’s anything else really important you guys need to know, I’ll bring it up later.”

Papyrus strokes his invisible beard, thinking hard about something. You go back to eating your pie, and as you do so, Sans speaks up himself.

“in that case, i can’t really think of anything but this one thing,” Sans tries to hold up his pointer finger, but his mittens make it a little hard, “my room is off limits unless i tell you you can go in. capiche?”

You figured he’d say something about that eventually.

”Capiche. Not to sound like a maid, but if you—both of you, want me to clean your rooms, then I can help with that too.” You say with a wince, “I got real good at that when staying in the Ruins. I think I have to actually call it a hobby now.”

Sans snorts, “duly noted.”

“I REALLY CAN’T THINK OF ANYTHING TO ADD,” Papyrus sighs rather dramatically, “PERHAPS… IF YOU ARE TO GO OUT ANYWHERE, MAYBE LET EITHER SANS OR MYSELF KNOW BEFORE STEPPING OUT. IF YOU SOMEHOW GET CAUGHT, OR IN TROUBLE, WE’LL AT LEAST KNOW WHERE YOU ARE.”

“Okay, I can do that,” You nod, “Uhhm… Oh! Uh, I should probably get a spare key eventually, right?”

“BY GOLLY, YOU’RE RIGHT!” Papyrus suddenly stands up, his hands on his sassy hips, “TOMORROW, WE WILL GO OUT TO GET A KEY COPY, AND PERHAPS OTHER MISCELLANEOUS THINGS YOU MIGHT NEED.”

“Oh, by the way,” You reach into your dress pocket and pull out your phone, “I should get your guys’ number. You never know, I might find a funny looking rock and I’ll need someone to tell it to.”

“YOU’D WANT TO TELL ME ABOUT A FUNNY LOOKING ROCK?”

“Of course, I would!” You hand over your shitty little phone.

“I CAN ALREADY TELL THIS IS GOING TO BE A WONDERFUL FRIENDSHIP!!”

Sans stands up, “hey, [y/n]. mind helping with putting the table back?”

“Hm? Oh, sure.”

You guys have finished your pies, so you get the plates and forks off the table first and take them to the kitchen. You fully intended to take them to the sink, but…

“Aw shit,” You’re staring right up at the tall, tall sink.

Snap!

The plates and forks illuminate a soft, light blue before disappearing from your hands. You gasp and widen your eyes in surprise, then you hear a soft clink from above in the sink. You quickly turn around and make eye contact with the smiling skeleton. He just winks at you and motions for you to get back there.

You know what? You need to start getting used to that so you opted to not question it.

Papyrus hands your phone to Sans, and while the shorty is busy with entering his number in your phone, you and Papyrus move the table back together. The chairs were pushed in under the table and you also pack the pie back up and put it in their Food Museum.

…

One half is filled with different pastas, and the other half just has an empty bag of chips.

You’re going grocery shopping tomorrow, too. You cannot let them live like this. You feel bad you can’t clean the plates, but you can’t do much about it if you can’t reach it.

“SANS, CAN YOU READ ME MY BEDTIME STORY NOW?”

“sure thing, bro. get ready and i’ll meet you there.”

“[Y/N]!!”

You jump, “Papyrus!”

The tall boy bounces into the kitchen with a wide smile, “IT’S A SHAME THAT WE HAVE TO CUT IT SHORT FOR TODAY. BUT, TOMORROW WILL BE OUR OFFICIAL DAY OF FUN!”

“I’m looking forward to it, Papyrus. Seriously, I have to thank you again for taking me in.” You’re so thankful that you almost want to bow but you refrain from doing so.

“THERE IS NO NEED TO THANK ME. HAVE A GOOD NIGHT, [Y/N]. IF YOU NEED ANYTHING, YOU CAN ALWAYS COME TO-”

“-me,” Sans interrupts swiftly and casually, “you know how cranky you get when you’re woken up in the middle of the night, bro. ‘sides, you have more trouble falling back to sleep than i do.”

“HM, YOU’RE RIGHT ABOUT THAT. THEN PLEASE, IF YOU NEED ANYTHING, YOU CAN ASK SANS.

You nod in understanding, “Roger. I’m staying up for a little longer, so you have a good night, Papyrus. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“GOODNIGHT, [Y/N]. MAY YOU HAVE THE GREATEST OF DREAMS.”

(Un)expectedly, Papyrus gives you a big hug, lifting you off the ground. You laugh and return the hug, patting his back in good faith. He sets you down gently as he did the last time, and walks out of the kitchen with a pep in his step.

What a cutie patootie.

Sans lingers back to return your phone to you, “wait for me, okay?”

You raise an eyebrow, “Oh… kay?”

He winks before leaving you alone in the kitchen. You roll your eyes with a smile and check the contact names they set themselves as.

—

sans

THE GREAT PAPYRUS!!!!

Toriel the Beloved <3

—

You deadpan, changing Sans’ name to “Sansational.” Wait, “Snas” is funnier. But you also like “Sansational.” Hm. As a final decision, you change his contact to “Snasational.”

Kekeke.

Speaking of your contacts, you should call Toriel now. You walk out the kitchen and head up the stairs. When you’re quietly passing by Papyrus’ room, you can hear Sans’ baritone voice read out the title of “Pick-a-Boo with Fluffy Bunny.”

How cute.

You go right down the hallway and walk out to the balcony. The time says it’s almost 8pm, but it still looks so light out. You feel a little tired, but not enough to sleep just yet. You put the device up to your ear, waiting for her to pick up.

Ring… Ring…

You lean forward on the balcony and cross your feet to get comfortable.

Ring…. Ring…

Rin-

“Hellloooo?”

You snort at the slurred tone, “Hey, mom. You good?”

“Oh, yesss. I had just… found this old bottle of Moonshine in the storage room, and-” She hiccups, “-I just wanted to have a little some.”

“Moonshine?” You grin and tease her, “Aw, really? Miss me so much already?”

“Pfft—Yesssss! I miss you alreadyyyyy! I don’t…” Her tone becomes somber, “I want you to come home soon…”

Uh oh.

Your smile slowly falls; memories of your other mother come to mind at Toriel’s behavior. You try to stop thinking about it. Toriel isn’t like her.

“I know, ma. But you’re going to be just fine without me, okay? And remember that I’m not going to be gone forever. And I’ll still call you as often as I can.”

“But you left…”

“You sent me away.” You remind her gently but assertively. “And for good reason, remember? This is going to be good for me and make me happy.”

“I did… I DID send you away…”

The line is quiet.

You sigh. “Hey, look-”

“I—I think *hic* I think I shhhould get some-some sleep,” Toriel sniffs grossly, making you wince, “You—You just forget about this, my little, little child.”

…No, you’re not going to just forget about it. It seems like something she seriously needs to talk about, but when she’s sober. For now, you’ll let her off the hook.

“Get some sleep, mom. And drink a lot of water before you sleep, okay?”

“I will, just for-just for you.”

You smile, “Goodnight, mom. I love you.”

Toriel whimpers as if she was going to start crying, “I love you too, my [Y/n].”

You wanted to change your mind and talk to her for a little longer, but she hung up on you first. You sigh heavily and put your phone in your pocket. You drag your hand down your face and shuffle your feet back so you can bend over a little more.

You know that awkward pose of leaning over something but when you arch your back like a slut then it’s just comfortable? Yeah, you do that. It’s the way of your life, you can’t help it.

Ohhh, Toriel.

You knew she liked to drink, especially wine before bed when she reads a book. But you didn’t think she was the type to drink her sorrows away. It’s taking a lot in you to not go to her right now to take care of her. That’s not your job, and you stopped doing that for any parental figure when you moved out at eighteen.

You stare out at the Waterfalls, feeling better at the scenery.

You REALLY like this balcony. You can tell the brothers don’t use this place very often since the snow on the rails and floor was perfectly untouched before you came along. You’ll ask Sans or Papyrus if they have an extra chair they can spare for you to bring out here.

Anyway, Sans said to wait for him? But you kinda just wanna finally take your shower and sleep. As you’re straightening up, the door behind you opens.

You turn around and nod at the skeleton, “Hey, bone boy.”

“hey,” He leans against the open door frame, “everything okay?”

“Okay as everything can be. So, what’s up? You needed something?”

“figured that i owe you for that creepypasta. you’re not satisfied with just one slice of pie, are ya?”

“Can’t say that I am. So, what do you got in mind?” You tilt your head, having a feeling that you know where this is going.

He takes out his right hand and points his thumb behind himself, “wanna come with me to grillby’s?”

Taglist:

@lemonboy011

@adriixboo

[witchersmistress]

The road to Hell

Hello my darlings!! this man almost, ended back in the punishment room!

Trigger warnings: age gasp, foul language sassy FMC, forced marriage

Word Count: 2.7 K

Amelia’s POV

Your wedding day is supposed to be one of the most exciting days of your life. Just like my mother, I’m about to marry a man I didn’t choose and who I don’t love. I actually despise him and everything he represents—money, greed, and power are just a few of them. My mother hates my father, but there was nothing either one of them could do. Their fate was decided, their destiny sealed. Same as mine. Same as my children’s. And my grandchildren’s. We are bred for the sole purpose of power. Control in numbers. Fuck that!

Women in my world—the secret society of the Ravens—should not reproduce. I don’t want children. The cycle will end with me. It has to.  The Ravens will only find a way to use its members. They marry us off to ensure we add to their army. The next generation of Ravens and Ravenia will help them take over the world.  Phil though he was so smart and allowed me to see a  Raven approved Drs only, well the joke was on him, that particular doc, i saw his wife instead who was a fellow Ravenia and a Nurse practitioner. By the end of my first appointment, I had an IUD and that idiot was none the wiser. I’ll be damned if I allow them to have any say over a son or daughter I'll never have.

 I stand in the middle of the room, overlooking the white dress in the mirrored wall, running my hand down the mulberry silk—some of the finest silk available in the world. I take in a deep breath. It cost a whopping two million. Two million dollars for a fucking dress? My soon-to-be husband had it custom-made by a designer in France. I know this because my mother reminds me every chance she gets. Why would I get to pick out something so important in my life? That’s insane, right? Give that money to charity, or he'll let me loose in a bookstore, not that i could spend two million dollars but i'll try like hell.

 To think I should have any say in what I wear on the day I give my life to another. It’s as if she thinks his wealth will impress me. It’s blood money. I know this because it’s the same fortune I grew up with. I never did want the finer things in life. I know a poor person would roll their eyes at that statement, but it’s true. Give me a beer, a cheap hoodie, and a hat to hide my three-day old mop of bleach-blond hair, and I’m happy. But no. That’s unacceptable. The one percent aren’t allowed to look anything less than perfect. Not in public anyway. I’m surprised they even let us speak. We as women might as well walk around with duct tape over our mouths dressed in nothing but chains. A Raven needs a Ravenia but not because of the reasons you may think. It’s a way to hide who he really is. He’ll have fucks all over the world, but we’re expected to cook, clean, and spread our legs for him when he’s home. Worship him like he’s God himself and birth his children. I’ve never been religious, and I’m not going to fall to my knees and start worshiping a man now.  

My brother comes up behind me, his eyes scanning over my dress in the mirror. “At least he has good taste.” I roll my eyes. “As if that matters.” “Just pop out some kids and get fat.” He shrugs. “Then he’ll screw anyone but you. Oh! Hire a hot, much younger nanny.” He nods to himself. “Let me try her out first, though. Make sure she’s good enough.” His words just prove that all Ravens are the same. He’s been a Raven for years but has yet to marry. He has the privilege of fucking his way around the world while I’m forced to sign my life away. A cell rings, and he pulls it out of his tuxedo jacket to answer. “Hello?” Sighing, I pick up the dress and walk over to the stained glass window. You can’t see shit out of it. This place is ancient. The Cathedral is to a Raven as a church is to a religion—their sanctum. It holds a hundred years of secrets like a sarcophagus encloses a mummy. 

It was handed down to them years ago—a place to perform their sick and twisted rituals. There’s nothing fancy or special about it, if you ask me. I could be walking down the aisle in blue jeans and a T-shirt or lingerie. Doesn’t matter. Not all Ravens and Ravenia are required to wed here. But it’s where my future husband picked. Our parents wanted it to be as traditional as possible. It’s a bullshit reason. They just want to make a spectacle of handing me over to him. We might as well be standing in a courtroom with a judge sentencing me to life in prison without the chance of parole for a crime I didn’t commit. I place my hand on the cold glass, listening to the rain fall. It’s been storming for the past two days. It's like the world knows I've been destined for a lifetime of servitude to a man I'd rather kill than kneel and suck his dick. 

I blame my mother. She raised me to be strong-willed and determined. But now, I’m just supposed to turn it off and believe that I'm to devote my life to a man that will neglect me during the day but demand I spread my legs at night. I won’t accept that. I deserve more. I want more. My brother ends his call, getting my attention, and looks at me. “We have a problem,” he states. My whole life is a fucking problem. “What?” “Phil is missing.” I snort. “Don’t toy with me like that.” That’s not a problem; that’s a prayer answered. “I’m serious.” He swallows, looking around the large room nervously as if Phil’s going to appear out of thin air. “He’s not here. He never arrived. He’s also not at his house. He’s missing. No one has seen him.” “I’m not sure why that’s a problem.” I don’t want to marry the sick bastard. Phil Buxton is the highest-ranking Raven you can come by, which just makes this even worse. Ravens are like anything else in this world. You have some at the bottom, and others at the top. There are different tiers. 

But honestly, it doesn’t matter; they’re all sick fucking bastards who will kill anyone to get to where they are. Even the bottom feeders will destroy anything to get a chance at serving. He steps over to me. “Amelia …” The door opens, and my father enters with my mother. I cross my arms over my chest. “I’m guessing this good fortune has nothing to do with you two?” My mother’s injected lips seem to thin a tad at my comment. She’s told me a million times that this is just the life we live. That it’s a “tradition” and I just have to accept it. That as far as Raven and Ravenia goes, we’re royalty. Bull-fucking-shit. I’d rather be someone’s bitch than a Raven’s Ravenia. My father, however, stares at the floor while running a hand through his dark hair. “Daddy?” I step over to him, holding my dress in my hands so I don’t step on the hem. “What’s going on?” His throat works, swallowing before his eyes find mine. There’s a look of regret in them, and hope fills my chest. Maybe he’s realized that I don’t want this life. He clears his throat. “I just received a call …” “Please tell me you did this—called off my wedding?” I rush out, my words hopeful. “I’m sorry, Amelia, but the wedding is still on.” He sighs. And what little hope I had is now smothered. “But Dylan said Phil’s missing.” I point at my brother. Had my father received the same phone call that my brother did? Or was it someone else? “You are no longer to wed Phil.” He yanks on the collar of his tux. Picking up the dress so I don’t trip over it in my six-inch hooker heels—that my soon-to-be husband also picked out—I take a step back, my heart picking up speed. This is good news. Why does he look so concerned? “I don’t understand. If he’s not here—” “A new Raven has chosen you,” he interrupts me. My mother places her hand over her mouth, trying to quiet a sob. “No,” I argue. “That can’t be.” It was decided that Phil would be my husband when I was eighteen—three years ago. 

Things like this aren’t just changed at the last minute. I’ve lived the past few years preparing for this day. To be his wife. What he wanted. A Raven can’t choose to marry me, not when I’m already promised to another. “Who?” my brother demands. “Who in the hell would make this change?” He fists his hands at his sides. I reach up and grab the pearls my mother gave me. She thought they would give me some kind of comfort, and I laughed, but now I hold on to them as if they’re an anchor to a lifeline. “I—” The door swings open once again, this time hitting the interior wall and making me jump. A set of baby-blue eyes meet mine, and my stomach drops. The wind knocked out of me. I haven’t seen them in years, but they’ve haunted my dreams ever since.

Three years ago

 “Where is she?” my mother demands, entering the hospital. She received a phone call that my sister was brought in tonight, but no other information was given. “Ma’am—” “Where is my daughter?” she screams at the nurse, pounding on the check-in desk. I turn around to see my sister’s boyfriend walking toward us. His white T-shirt and jeans are covered in blood, and my chest tightens to the point it restricts my air. My mom’s legs give out when she sees him. “N-o,” she chokes, placing her shaking hand over her mouth. Walter catches her and holds her body to his, but his baby-blue eyes meet mine, sending a chill down my spine so cold, it’s paralyzing. “I’m so sorry,” he whispers. “She’s gone.” 

“Walter,” my brother growls, shoving me to the side and pulling me out of that memory, and steps in front of me.

[sunflowerharrington]

Wip Weekend!

thank you @oiveyzmir and @medusapelagia for tagging me! love ya!

i have two wips…

✨RULES✨

• In a reblog of this post or new thread, post up to five (5) filenames of your WIPs.

• Post a snippet from one of them. Snippet must be words you wrote in the last 7 days. We're posting progress here. If you haven't made any, go make some and come back to play!

• After you've posted, people can send you an ask with one of your file names. You must then write 3 sentences in that file.

If the filename is one you can't share from, write 3 sentences on it anyway, and then 3 more on another to share.

• That's it! You can invite others to join in, or just post.

without further ado

🛁 The Act (Steddie BB) - Saltburn AU

🖤 Unhealthy (unable to share snippets from)

Snippet for “The Act (Steddie BB)” under the cut. Warning for ALCOHOL CONSUMPTION

“I’ll need some identification, please,” she demands, leaning over the counter, lowering her voice. “Give me any kind of card or literally anything, just as long as the CCTV sees you’re handing me something that resembles a card. I don’t care enough to actually look for legal shit.”

Eddie hands her his credit card with no cash on it, since he spent the last of it on an e-cig yesterday. She pretends to study it and hands it back to him. “Perfect, you’re sixty-nine years old, I can serve you,” she laughs, winking at him. “Kidding, of course. Now, what can I get you?”

“Six pickle shots, please,” Eddie says with a smile, standing up straight to appear more confident. She doesn’t need to know he’s not of-age, yet. To be honest, she looks like she’s eighteen herself. Nineteen at a push. She looks like she should be hanging out with Steve and his friends instead of being stuck behind that sticky bar all night. “I’ll take a lemon drop shot, thanks.”

“Pickle shots, huh? You know Hagan’s allergic to pickles, right? I’ll get you five pickle shots and two lemon drops, hon,” she pauses. “Tomothy!” She yells. “What shot?”

“Lemon drop!” Tommy shouts back. “Thanks, M! And stop calling me that!”

The girl smiles at Tommy, before turning back to Eddie. “Knew he would,” she says, and Eddie can barely hear it over the music blasting over the speakers. And he can’t help but stare directly into her sparkling green eyes as she smiles at him. But the moment is cut short as she turns around to gather everything she needs to make the shots.

She sets each plastic glass down on a tray on the countertop, making the shots with ease and such speed. Eddie’s mouth waters as he looks down at them. “$3.75 each so… I don’t have my calculator.” Where is Barbara Holland when you need her?

“You don’t know your times tables?” Eddie teases, and she playfully rolls her eyes.

“Nah, I was too busy reading magazines in the back of class to care about math. It should be around forty five dollars for seven shots.” Is she… Is she okay? She can’t be serious right now.

“The shots are $3.75, right? That shouldn’t add up to forty five dollars.”

“Okay, whatever, let’s just say twenty five dollars and be done here. I’m so sick of this shit. I just wanna lay in my bed and go to sleep, man.”

Eddie looks down at his wallet. Shit. Fifteen dollars. That’s not enough. “I only have fifteen, can I pay the rest back tomorrow? Please,” he almost begs. Get on your knees and kiss the tops of her shoes while you’re at it. Jesus. What’s gotten into me?

She flicks a strand of her short, white hair out of her face and pins him with a stern look. “I’m here to do my job and not to listen to your excuses. I don’t do “oh, Maddy, can I pay you tomorrow, pretty please, with a lemon drop on top?” Pay me now, or no shots. Choice is yours.”

Eddie “tough guy” Munson begins to shrink under her glare.

“Go easy on him, Mads,” Steve says as he approaches the bar. “Also, I saw you dropping this and didn’t want anyone stealing it,” he continues, handing Eddie a twenty dollar bill with a discreet wink.

“I—” Eddie starts, but Steve shushes him. Steve lifts the tray of shots and brings them over to the table before coming back over. “Go on, man. I’ll meet you over there. Just gonna talk to Maddy for a little while and I’ll pay with your cash.” It doesn’t even take a split second for Steve to start playing with her hair, twisting a strand around his finger to tuck it behind her ear.

She giggles, completely melting under his gaze like she’s a popsicle and he’s the sun. Who could ever melt under Steve Harrington’s gaze like that? Eddie. Eddie could.

Steve leans over the bar, closer to her, and she leans in just as much so their lips can touch. And they kiss. In front of Eddie. How dare they?

Jealousy bubbles inside him and he throws back his shot before anyone else can pick theirs up. He rolls his eyes, wanting to turn away from the scene, but his body freezes up. A murmur of annoyance circles the round table, but Eddie doesn’t care. This wouldn’t have happened if Steve didn’t kiss her.

“Okay, wait,” India pipes up, bringing Eddie’s attention away from the . “We should play a game!”

“What are we? Five years old?” Tommy says with an eye roll of his own. “Fine. Only ‘cause I’m bored.”

tagging @sourw0lfs @ghostdeb @shares-a-vest @momotonescreaming @penny00dreadful @hornedqueenofhell @medusapelagia but only if you guys want to! 🥰🩷

[the-nation-of-today]

Ballerinas, Barbers, and Brides

(or: an attempt to theorize on what BVB 7 is going to be about)

So everyone saw my deranged theory post yesterday. Here is my attempt to take that theory and put it into actual coherent thought.

We know BVB 7 has been teased and talked about. But what is it going to be about? My theory is that BVB 7 is going to be a concept album that focuses on a story about antagonists and the dangers of giving in to your darker wants and impulses. 

Let's get right into it.

I. BACKGROUND

Where are we right now in regards to the state of the band and its music?

Of the concept albums, we’ve already had two that focus on the heroes of the story (Wretched And Divine/Vale) and one that focuses on an antihero/morally gray character (The Phantom Tomorrow)

We know BVB 7 is being actively worked on

Andy has teased his notebook for this album (posted on his Insta story in June)

CC has recently been in the studio tracking drums with Erik Ron (he posted it on his Instagram story, I had a screenshot of it but have since apparently deleted it to make room for concert content.) (Edit: we found it!! Posted August 27th to his story)

Jake has teased multiple possible in-progress songs while on stream (I don’t have any clips of these but if anyone does please send them over and I’ll add them.) (Edit: a Twitter friend is letting me share these tweets from back in August re: what Jake has said)

Both Andy and Jake have teased that the new music is going to be heavier and harder with the incorporation of bits of death metal and deathcore, along with the tease of more Andy screaming. Andy in particular teased it in this Icon Vs. Icon interview about The Mourning (if anyone has a Jake tease, do share and I'll add it.)

II. BLACK SWAN

Now, I’ll be the first to admit that this part does not have as much solid ground to stand on as the rest of the theory. However, it’s still worth talking about. This theory stems from the makeup looks that Andy did in Mexico and in the band’s pre-Mexico photoshoot. It’s been affectionately dubbed the Black Swan look due to the similarities between the look and Natalie Portman’s appearance on the Black Swan movie poster

But let’s take a look at what the actual plot and message of Black Swan is. According to IMDb, Black Swan focuses on Nina (Portman), “a talented but unstable ballerina on the verge of stardom. Pushed to the breaking point by her artistic director and a seductive rival, Nina's grip on reality slips, plunging her into a waking nightmare.”

Then, we get to the message of the movie itself. According to this article by Courtney Campbell of The True Colors: “In “Black Swan,” the movie highlights the dangerous divide between being passionate of your work and being obsessed with perfecting it. The director and Lily showcase passion; both of them are clearly enamored with ballet yet their psyches aren’t ravaged by it. Nina and her mother represent obsession. The pair have devoted their lives to ballet to the exclusion of everything else.”

So now we come to the crux of it: obsession. Nina, our protagonist, obsessed over ballet and her attempts to be cast in the principal role in Swan Lake. Because of this, her mind quite literally breaks and she begins to hallucinate more and more, to the point in the ending where she believes she is stabbing her rival with a shard of glass but instead has stabbed herself. Nina becomes her own worst enemy and, depending on how you interpret Black Swan’s ambiguous ending, dies because her passion became obsession.

So what does this mean for BVB 7? Well, there are many parallels between the world of Nina and the world of music- namely the desperate need to “make it”, and then stay relevant. It’s not an uncommon trend to see musicians fall into the same spirals that Nina did. While her story is an exaggerated one due to the nature of the movie, the themes are all too relevant to the life of a musician. In fact, loathe as I am to admit it because the movie is not good, we see a very similar theme in American Satan, which Andy starred in.

Black Swan is a story about how your need for perfectionism can twist you into something darker, and how being solely obsessed with one thing can cause your life to end.

III. SWEENEY TODD

Now here is where the theory really starts to hold weight. If there is one thing to know about Andy, it is that Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street, is one of his favorite musicals of all time. He’s dressed up as the titular barber before and has recently gotten a new Sweeney Todd tattoo.

In case you aren’t familiar with the plot of the musical, let’s do a quick look at the synopsis. According to Wikipedia, the musical “retells the melodramatic Victorian tale of Sweeney Todd, an English barber and serial killer who, while seeking revenge on Judge Turpin who wrongfully convicted and exiled him to steal his wife, murders his customers and, with the help of his accomplice, Mrs. Lovett, processes their corpses into meat pies.”

Pretty gruesome stuff, but we really shouldn’t be surprised here. Essentially, the story is about a man who was once gentle and kind and has since been twisted into something cruel and evil. Sound familiar? Perhaps like a certain protagonist of a ballet movie previously mentioned? It’s also worth mentioning that, at the end of the musical, Todd ends up being killed because his blind lust for revenge has distracted him.

Now, I didn’t think there was much to this, I thought Andy’s Instagram captions were simply alluding to Sweeney Todd because he is, as we know, a big fan.

We have “Attend the tale” which is the first line that’s sung in the opening number The Ballad of Sweeney Todd (“Attend the tale of Sweeney Todd”) and “My friends” which is the title of a song about midway through Act 1/the first half of the movie where Todd first swears revenge. His “friends” that he’s referring to are his razors, his murder weapons.

But this all changed with yesterday’s (9/29) post.

Simply captioned “Epiphany”, that could mean anything, right? Epiphany is a pretty common word. WRONG.

“Epiphany”, in Sweeney Todd, is a major turning point in Act 1. Before this point in the musical, Todd was very self-controlled and precise. At this point in the musical, Todd had the object of his revenge (the Judge) in his grasp, but he escapes. This breaks Todd and that earlier precision is gone. Losing out on one chance of revenge has ruined his already fragile mind so much that here is where he decides to indiscriminately murder anyone he can get his hands on. These snippets from a (semi-negative) review of one production of Sweeney Todd from the Washington Post and a musical analysis of the show by From Score To Stage explain it better than I could.

What gets me is that it is not just a turning point for Todd's character, but for his musical structure. Oh? A change in music you say? A reference to a change in music when the band has teased that their new music will have some changes? Interesting.

But these are just coincidences, right? Let’s take one look further at this band and what they’ve been doing. On the recent Mexico leg, their intro music for when they come onto the stage was just The Phantom Tomorrow (Introduction). But they changed that for the US leg. And what did they change it to? Take a listen (y'know, outside of the various screams of yours truly)

Don’t recognize it? Take a listen to this.

That’s right, they’re using the opening title of Sweeney Todd as their introduction music for this leg. Now, I don’t know about you guys, but that is far too many “coincidences” to not at least make a note of. (Shout out to Tal @sonsofnight for picking up on this btw because I did not recognize it)

IV. CONCLUSION 

So where does this leave us? We have an album we know is in the works and two pieces of media that focus on the twisting of human desires into something darker. Perfection into obsession and controlled anger into revenge. Both end negatively for the protagonist in question, with either an ambiguous or confirmed death.

There is one last point I want to bring up- The Mourning. What started out as The Phantom Tomorrow part two that then morphed into its own thing. And one of the songs on there? The Revival, which has the lyrics “Did you find what you need in the solace? / Is the pain worth the soul and promise?” and “Did you find what you need in the solace? / Is the soul worth the pain of a world we can’t revive?”

Or, maybe in a different interpretation, was what you were striving for worth it? Was that perfection you were seeking worth the mental breakdown? Was that revenge you sought worth carving through the world and spilling its blood? Was all of that worth it, only for you to die at the end?

Whether this was meant to be a tease, I can’t say for certain. But for these themes to pop up in the transition release between TPT and what will (hopefully soon) be BVB 7? All I am going to say is that it lines up just a little too well for my liking to be a set of coincidences. And now that we’ve had the stories of our heroes and antiheroes told, maybe it’s time for the villains and antagonists to take the spotlight.

[tgmsunmontue]

It's all academic darlin' PART 9/10

PART 1 PART 2 PART 3 PART 4 PART 5 PART 6 PART 7 PART 8

Part 7 and 8 are Explicit. And nothing else makes sense without the first six parts but you do you!

PART NINE

            Jake goes through the next few minutes in a haze as he finishes the washing up and watches Bradley hug Admiral Kazansky good bye, telling him they’ll see him tomorrow. He’s told it was very nice to meet him and Jake returns the sentiment, meaning it wholeheartedly. Still difficult to think of the COMPACFLT as someone who makes amazing waffles and likes Star Wars, but he imagines he’ll get there. Bradley leans into his space, hooks fingers into the loops on his jeans and grins at him.

            “So. You survived.”

            “Yeah, he’s actually pretty cool.”

            “Well yeah, he’s… he was the steady presence for me. The one I felt like I could always call up and get advice. Proper advice. Not Mav’s just do it attitude, deal with the consequences later approach… It works for him but I’ve always been a little more careful.”

            “Risk averse?”

            “Not really, but definitely always wanted to weigh things up before committing properly.”

            Jake hums, because he’s wondering if he’s reading too much into that statement, that Bradley is saying something about not wanting to risk committing being with him. He doesn’t think so. It goes against everything Bradley has said and done in the last twenty-four hours but he can’t help the little niggle of doubt.

            “So… He gave you permission to tell your friends.”

            “You were listening huh?”

            “Of course I was. Ice knows I always listen in. More difficult to do when he’s only using ASL though. He’d have used pen and paper if he really didn’t want me to know.”

            “I’ll add it to my pile of stuff to learn…

            “You’re going to learn ASL?”

            “Well, I want to be able to understand whatever you guys are saying to each other. I mean, I thought this sign was pretty obvious,” he makes the two-handed gesture he had thought meant blowjob and Bradley snorts, rests his forehead on Jake’s shoulder and his laugh is gentle and quiet and he never wants this feeling of rightness to end.

            “Oh no, that’s totally the sign for what you think it is. Blow job.”

            “What?!”

            “It was a comment I made months ago, when Mav was telling me about you. About how you disobeyed orders and saved his life…”

            Jake can’t believe that Mav just talks about fucking top-secret missions. Obviously he’s assuming Bradley isn’t sharing it with anyone who doesn’t already know, but how the fuck has Admiral Kazansky not murdered Maverick yet?

            “How the fuck does Kazansky say anything at home?”

            “Well, he doesn’t,” Bradley says and Jake groans at the bad joke.

            “Shut up! You know what I mean!”

            Bradley laughs, shakes his head and shifts his hands from the belt loops to hook his hands behind Jake, pulling him close. He shoves his hands into the back pockets of Bradley’s jeans, needs somewhere to put them to stop feeling awkward.

            “Anyway, Mav told me about you saving his life and I jokingly asked him if he’d wanted me to give you a thank you blow job. You know he kept sending me things to do at the cabin, like he was trying to make me stick around until you got there. He likes to think he’s sneaky but he’s like a sheet of glass.”

            “So what, you’re with me because you’re grateful?”

            “Nope. Don’t get me wrong, I am grateful, Mav is pretty fucking important to me. But I’m not with you because of that. You’re funny and intelligent and you aren’t intimidated by me or my career. That’s a pretty fucking amazing trifecta right there,” Bradley says, and he’s completely serious now, his eyes intent on Jake’s face like he really wants to press home how much he believes what he’s saying and Jake shifts uncomfortably, not used to being the subject of such an intense gaze.

            “And then… and then, on top of that, my dad, Mav, already likes you. Tomorrow night he was going to try and set me up with you a third time. And Ice? He thinks you’re hilarious. That you’ll, and I quote, fit in with our crazy family without even trying, end quote. I’ve adlibbed a bit. Anyway, those are five things which I find are pretty important. I usually don’t have the Mav and Ice approval so early on… Jesus Jake. Do you have any idea how amazing I think you are?”

            Jake swallows, throat tight and he shakes his head a little, because no, he didn’t think Bradley thought anything like that about him. Not like that.

            “And then there are the sprinkles and cherry, which are you getting on with my friends, maybe a little too well to be honest. And all of this? Wrapped up in something that looks like you do… it’s like hitting the jackpot.”

            “Oh.”

            “Too much?”

            “Maybe a little?” Jake says, unsure as he sucks in a shaky breath.

            “Okay… so what did you want to do today? We’ve got all afternoon and all night…”

            “Whatever will we do to entertain ourselves.”

            “I’ve got some ideas.”

…         …         …

            Bradley doesn’t know exactly where Jake’s insecurities come from, but the lack of him talking about his parents makes him wonder. Jake hasn’t said they were dead, only mentioned his brother and sister when they’d emailed about family. Jake is confident, cocky and a touch arrogant like every naval aviator Bradley has ever met. It hasn’t seemed to bleed into his relationships though, not if he’s never really had one. And maybe that’s the telling part. It’s okay, he can work with that. Finds himself willing to work with it, when Jake is just… leaving himself so open like this.

            They make out against the kitchen bench for a little while, there’s no sense of urgency for him. Not when he’s had more orgasms in the last twenty-four hours than he’s had the entire week prior. Still, there’s a low buzzing thrum of arousal in his body and he’s pretty sure that it will just become his natural state when Jake is nearby. Another thing he’s willing to work with.

            “So, are you going to tell them?” Bradley asks, because he’s insanely curious and part of him wants all of Mav’s usual machinations to be ruined just so he can see the look on his face for once.

            “Who? Oh, the other Daggers coming tomorrow? Yeah. Probably. Think I’d like to introduce you to Javy if that’s okay?”

            “Yeah, of course. Why wouldn’t it be? You met most of my friends last night.”

            “Javy is my best friend.”

            “Okay…?”

            “He’s definitely going to want to meet you…”

            “You want to have him around, cook dinner?”

            “No. I don’t want to spend time cooking for them when I’m still getting to know you.”

            “You’re secretly the sweetest, you know that?”

            Jake looks embarrassed, doesn’t meet his eye and Bradley kisses him again, slow and gentle, tries to reassure with every press of his lips. Then Jake is pulling back, eyes wide and he’d be worried except Jake looks delighted.

            “Oh my god… I can fuck with him. I can fuck with him so bad.”

            “What? Who?”

            “Javy… this is like a triple blind.”

            “What do you mean?”

            “He knows I’ve been emailing this professor. He probably isn’t picturing someone like you, when you think professor.”

            Bradley’s takes that for the compliment he assumes is there somewhere, grins and nods encouragement.

            “So I let him meet you, and he’s not going to expect you at all… then… do you have a photo album or something?”

            “No, Mav’s got most of them. I’ve got a couple of pictures somewhere. What do you want exactly?”

            “Picture of you and Mav…”

            “Oh… what, you going to bring him back and introduce me and then just hope he stumble across a photo album picture of me and Mav?”

            “Well, when you put it like that…”

            “Nah, I think I can think of something. Put some on the fridge maybe? I’ve got a graduation photo as well somewhere. I hide it because Kezia gives me shit about how young I look.”

            “Yeah… do you mind?”

            Bradley grins and shakes his head, is pretty sure Jake is now feeling the same glee he had when he realized he could maybe get Mav.

            “I’ve got to ring him, stupid asshole, trying to hide the fact that he’s in North Island…”

            Bradley pulls away slightly, clearly isn’t allowed to go to far as Jake refuses to remove a hand from his back pocket, tugs him close as he presses call on his phone and waits for his friend to answer.

            “Hey man, how’s it going?”

            “Hey. I’m good. And I have a bone to pick with you. You’re in North Island.”

            “How the fuck did you find that out? It was meant to be a surprise!”

            “A little bird told me…” Jake looks at Bradley then and he laughs silently, little bird indeed. Standing so close he can hear everything, especially with how Jake is angling the phone.

            “Who?”

            “Not important. Anyway, I wanted to talk about something. You know that guy I was emailing?”

            “Who? The professor guy?”

            “Yeah. Him.”

            “Ooohhh… you hot for teacher?”

            “Yeah. I am actually.”

            “Holy shit! Really? He’s not like old as fuck and walking around with a zimmer frame?”

            “No, no zimmer frame in sight.”

            Bradley laughs silently again, is a little horrified that maybe Jake at any stage thought that maybe Bradley was that old, but listens as Jake arranges to meet Javy for an early dinner in a few hours at one of the burger bars downtown. He hangs up and then kisses Bradley firmly.

            “Man this is going to be fun. I see why the Admiral is so excited about tricking Mav now… and why Mav must enjoy doing it to people.”

            “Do not encourage him. He doesn’t need encouragement okay?”

            “Yeah yeah… okay. Fuck. I’m sorry. I should have checked. Are you okay with me going out to dinner?”

            “Of course… I’m not your keeper or anything.”

            “But we’ve only just… met. I don’t want you to think that he’s more important –”

            “Jake. He’s your best friend. Has been your best friend for years. Someone who you also haven’t seen in over seven months I’m betting. He’s more important. I don’t mind at all.”

            He really doesn’t, the fact that Jake had immediately wanted to arrange to see his best friend, even if he’s using the excuse to fuck with him, tells him more than Jake probably realizes. That’s he’s loyal, and places importance on his relationships in equal measure. It’s a good sign. He can’t handle being the only person in anyone’s life, learnt that one early on.

            “Well, I know you have work to do. Don’t pretend you don’t… you were complaining about it in your last email.”

            “Yeah, but you’re here…”

            “I am here right now. And I’ll be back later. Consider it an incentive to get as much work done while I’m gone as you can…”

            “Yeah okay, I’ve always been pretty focused with the right motivation…”

            “Good to hear. You know what I want to do right now?” Jake asks, and both his hands are back on Bradley’s ass, gripping him through his pockets.

            “What?” Bradley asks, letting himself grind up against Jake with clear interest.

            “I want to fuck you.”

            “You going to ask nicely?”

            “Bradley, please, let me fuck you. I want to get my mouth on you, my fingers inside, stretch you open for my cock, then I want to fuck you and leave those marks all over your chest you asked for and want to see if you’ll beg me to touch your cock, or if you can come without that…”

            “Yeah… that’s pretty nice…”

…         …         …

            Jake leans down, latches his mouth on the sensitive nipples he’d discovered last night and sucks. Bradley’s cock jerks between them, a spurt of precum dripping from the head.

            “How are you so hot?”

            “Good genes…” Jake snorts, licks his way across Bradley’s chest.

            “You sure about these marks? You know I’m not a horny teenager unable to control myself…”

            “Channel your inner teenager, go to town okay? I want to look absolutely wrecked.”

            “This better not fucking backfire…” Jake mutters, because while he’s not generally a guy that gets off on leaving marks, it isn’t exactly a hardship to suck at Bradley’s body when he responds so beautifully, because him enjoying it is something that will get him off.

            “Trust me…”

            Jake can’t believe it, but he does, he really does. He thrusts forward, not quite getting the leverage he’d usually have considering he’s trying to mark Bradley up as much as humanely possible with his mouth.

            “You can leave more later, please, just fuck me… come on.”

            “Okay.”

            He lets himself focus on drawing back before snapping his hips forward, watching Bradley’s face carefully to gauge whether that’s okay. The way his eyes fall shut the same time his mouth gasps open he’s going to take it as a winner and he does it again again again, feeling his own orgasm coiling up in his gut. He can see a half-dozen bite marks starting to darken across Bradley’s chest and collar bone, feels an unexpected thrill. Inner teenager indeed.

            Bradley isn’t making any move to touch himself and he wonders if he needs or wants Jake’s hand on him, whether he’s holding back for some reason Jake’s not aware of. Bradley’s hands are all over Jake’s body instead, running over his chest, down his arms, digging into his shoulders and he’s getting close, wants to touch Bradley now but also wants to know what exactly might tip him over the edge. He has a hunch. He adjusts slightly, mostly maintaining his pace and then he scrapes a blunt nail across Bradley’s left nipple and bloody fucking hell. He almost jackknives up and headbutts Jake in the face, though the loud whine he makes has Jake doing in again; ready this time for the entire-body jerk and he presses down with more force, captures Bradley’s mouth in a hard kiss.

            Then he shifts again, sucks the same nipple into his mouth and yeah, Bradley’s coming, his voice making broken sounds that have Jake’s name mixed in and he licks one more time, savors the full body spasm that Bradley gives and then he fucks into him a few more times, watching Bradley as he lies almost catatonic beneath him, and Jake has never felt so fucking smug before in his life. Yeah. This is fucking amazing.

            Later, post showers, music playing in the background, they sit on the sofa, Bradley reading through essays he’s marking, constantly muttering under his breath and Jake can’t help but smile to himself every time Bradley grumbles and taps away, clearly making comments. Jake’s replied to some emails and is now reading the manual for one of the aircraft he’s going to be asked to inspect as part of his interview for the test pilot position, and he feels quietly comfortable. He makes a few notes, wonders if he could ask Mav some questions and guesses he can likely ask Mav many things now.

            He gets up and uses the bathroom, comes back through to the kitchen for a glass of water and sees there is already a new photo on the fridge and it’s Bradley as a toddler, with an incredibly young-looking Mav grinning at him. There’s a couple and he recognizes Nick Bradshaw from the Navy database photo. The woman must be Bradley’s mom. She has the same easy smile and a little part of him aches for the fact that he’ll never meet them but Bradley will never meet his own parents either so it doesn’t make him feel bad enough to dwell on it.

            He’s a bit peckish so he raids the fridge and cupboards, prepares a plate of cheese and crackers along with some apple slices and grapes; things that can be eaten one handed. He brings it back to the sofa, kicks at Bradley’s feet and passes him a glass of water, leaning down to give him a kiss before going back to his reading.

            “Thanks…”

            “I’ve got a vested interest in making sure your energy levels stay up.”

            “Yeah you do…”

            They grin at each other but lapse back into doing their own thing.

…         …         …

            He has no idea how he lost time so quickly, or how he quite got through so much marking. Definite motivation he guesses, glancing at Jake. At least that’s what he’s going to put it down to. Jake bringing him snacks has let him keep his momentum, rather than get distracted and it’s kind of nice to have someone else just showing that extra consideration. He hadn’t expected it and it makes him feel a little unprepared for just how easily Jake had just simply thought of him and what he might need.

            “Hey, I’m going to go, I’ll see you in a bit okay? I’ll bring you back dessert…”

            “Mmm… look forward to it.” Bradley says, deliberately misconstruing his meaning and running his eyes down Jake’s body meaningfully. Gets a playful shove in response and he laughs.

            “I meant ice cream, but sure, you can have me too…”

            “Wait, you want to take my car? And take the spare key.”

            “Uh… what?”

            “Take my spare keys. They’re on a hook behind the door. It’s not like I’m going anywhere. Then you don’t have to book a Lyft or be buzzed in, or knock on the door. That okay?”

            “Yeah. Okay. Yeah.”

            “Good.”

            “That made my brain go offline…”

            “More than the idea of me wanting to eat you for dessert? Clearly not doing a proper job of it.”

            “Fuck Bradley…”

            “Yeah, we’re pretty good at that…”

            “Oh my god, stop already. I’ve got to get going,” Jake mutters, but he still looks pleased, and definitely less spooked than he did mere moments before. “I’ll stop in at the grocery store on my way back. I’m bringing Javy back to meet you remember? So don’t strip yourself naked and wait for me on the bed. Do more work and I’ll see you later. Don’t forget to eat something more than cheese and crackers. You need anything for these brownies we’re apparently taking tomorrow?”

            “Oh. Dark chocolate. I like the idea of being naked and waiting for you in bed… we’ll have to explore that later.”

            Jake grins, gives him another kiss, firmer this time and Bradley presses into it.

            “I’ll pick up the chocolate.”

            “Thanks. Enjoy dinner with Javy…”

            “Will do.”

…         …         …

            He walks into the bar and spots Javy easily. He hadn’t expected for them to be joined by Trace and Floyd but there they are, all chatting with each other and dressed in civvies, and he slides into the spare seat at the table, greets them all.

            “You don’t seem surprised. Did the little bird tell you that they were here too?”

            “Yep. Dinner tomorrow night.”

            “Huh. I want to know who this birdy is… Mav?”

            “He’s really shit at keeping secrets sometimes,” Jake provides, thinking about Mav’s whole secret relationship with the Admiral, but then not stopping to think about sharing mission critical information with Bradley. Or Jake’s own medical history. The fact that he hadn’t exactly told Jake that they were in town, and Bradley had just let him overhear is something he won’t ever be admitting to.

            “How are you two?” Jake asks, because unlike Javy who he’s emailed a couple of times a week since they went on their first deployments in different directions, he doesn’t keep in regular contact with either of them, just the standard group chat that the Dagger Squad have which goes through peaks and troughs of communication. They talk about superficial things for a while, take in the ambience of the burger joint and place their order with the waitstaff.

            “Any particular reason we’re eating so early?”

            “I had a late breakfast so needed an early dinner.”

            “A late breakfast huh? Were you busy in bed?” Javy asks, grinning and leaning back, knowing he’s just let the cat out amongst the pigeons and Jake doesn’t care, because he’s going to get them all and he’s going to enjoy every fucking minute. Phoenix and Bob both look between him and Javy, expressions only mildly interested.

            “Yep. Sure was. Had someone special cook for me as well…”

            “Jake’s been emailing this professor guy, getting all hot and bothered via email!”

            “God, shut up…”

            “I’m not saying anything untrue!”

            “Well, we’re not emailing anymore, I met him yesterday. Properly,” he adds, thinking back to over ten months ago when he’d first met Bradley at the cabin.

            “Yeah? What’s he like?”

            “He’s great. He’s smart, and funny and understands being in the Navy pretty well for a civilian. We went rock climbing with his friends last night… I was going to ask if you wanted to meet him,” Jake says, looking at Javy, because he’ll know how significant that is. He’s never introduced anyone to Javy before.

            “Oh holy shit. You’re serious?”

            “Yeah. It’s pretty serious.”

            “Wow…” Javy says and Jake’s pretty sure he’s at a loss for what to say.

            “You got a picture or anything?”

            “Uh, no…” He doesn’t want to say they’ve been a bit busy to take selfies, although he will definitely want some photos next time he’s away from Bradley. Fuck. Bradley’s going to need a better phone with a decent camera and Jake can’t trust him with that. They’re going to have to figure out something though.

            “Look at that blush!”

            “Too busy with other things huh?”

            “Shut up. You want to meet him or not?”

            “Hell yes! I’m picking if he’s into rock climbing he’s not in his eighties.”

            “He’s a couple years older than me, and he can definitely keep up with me…” Jake says, and he realizes then that Bradley likely grew up training with Mav and being expected to go on runs with him and likes to exercise, rather than needing to do it as a requirement for his job like Jake needs to do.

            “And I’m sure you’ve tested that out…”

            “Yes, several times in fact,” Jake grins back, feeling pretty smug.

            “That invitation to meet him open to all of us?” Phoenix asks and Jake shrugs, like he doesn’t care either way, knows if he plays it too keen they’ll get suspicious.

            “Yeah, sure. Come and meet him. He already said he wants to meet Javy.”

            “Really?”

            “Yeah, he’s heard a lot about you…”

            Javy’s eyebrow goes up at that, and Jake grins, because he’s referring to Bradley’s comment about Mav talking about all the Dagger Squad. Bradley’s likely to have an idea of each of them through whatever Maverick thinks of them, which is a little humbling because from what Bradley has implied Mav seems to think Jake is somehow someone worthy of his respect. And time. Someone he thinks is good enough for Bradley to be with, and he finds that to be a pretty huge commendation on what Mav thinks of him.

            Their food arrives and he flicks a quick message to Bradley, no idea if he will even check it before Jake gets back to the apartment. Their conversation turns to work, talking about different aspects of training they’re each carrying out in different parts and he mentions he’s applied for the test pilot position at Fallon on Mav’s recommendation. Phoenix is taking an instructor role at Top Gun for the next two years, while Javy and Bob are slated to do training of new pilots at Pensacola for eighteen months. Jake doesn’t have any current orders, having only returned from a seven-month deployment at sea, but he’s hoping he’s at least going to be land-bound for the next little while even if he doesn’t get the test pilot position.

            “Okay, I need to go to the grocery store on the way back. I’m just getting some ice cream and chocolate. I’ll meet you guys outside the apartment building,” Jake says, giving them the address and watching them all plug it into the map app on their phones.

            “Can you get Moose Tracks?”

            “Who said the ice cream was for you?”

            “You mean you’re getting ice cream and chocolate and not going to share it with us?”

            “The chocolate is for the brownies we’re making for dinner tomorrow, not for eating.”

            “Just buy more chocolate.”

            “Wait. Is he coming to dinner tomorrow night?”

            Jake freezes, and shakes his head, thinks frantically.

            “Uh no, of course not. I’m just bringing some brownies for tomorrow. Bradley’s a really good cook…”

            “I was going to say, inviting the guy to Mav’s for dinner seems a little rude.”

            Jake laughs, wonders if they can here how crazy he’s feeling. This subterfuge shit is harder than he thought. God he needs to get back to the apartment.

            “I’ll see you guys there! Bye!”

…         …         …

            They’re waiting for him outside and he’s glad he didn’t tell them the apartment number. Wouldn’t have put it past them to buzz Bradley and ambush him before Jake got back. Javy is looking at the keys in his hand with a raised eyebrow and Jake simply makes a what would you have me do face. He’s aware he’s falling hard and fast, but he also feels like Bradley’s a giant safety net ready to catch him. He opens the apartment door, trying to be a little noisy to give Bradley some warning, because his five phone messages have all gone unanswered and he wonders if it’s finally death-knell time for his current phone. For all he knows ten months might be a personal record.

            “Hi…” Bradley says, appearing in the doorway to the hall and he’s clearly had a shower and changed, no longer wearing the tank and sweats he’d lounged around in most of the day. Instead he’s in jeans and a dark blue Henley, looking all sorts of delectable and Jake gives him an approving smirk and gets an eyeroll back in return, it’s accompanied with a grin though and yeah, he’s falling and falling, doesn’t want to stop.

            “Hey. Uh. These two were there as well.”

            “Okay,” Bradley says, walking over and holding out a hand to shake, starting with Javy and he bites back a comment about making Mav proud with his manners.

            “Bradley, this is Javy Machado, Natasha Trace and Bob Floyd. Javy, Natasha and Bob, this is Bradley Bradshaw.”

            “Hey man, nice to meet you,” Javy says, shaking Bradley’s hand, and he’s definitely scrutinizing Bradley for asshole vibes and Jake can’t help but feel a deep swell of appreciation for his best friend. Yeah. He’s got his back. Bradley is shaking Natasha and Bob’s hands and then reaching for the grocery bag.

            “Let me take that and put it in the freezer… Wow. Did we really need four different flavors of ice cream?”

            “Well, I don’t know your favorite, so I got vanilla and chocolate, and then she wanted the Moose Tracks,” Jake says, pointing at Phoenix who looks suitably annoyed at being thrown under the proverbial bus. “And when I’m already getting three tubs of ice cream I figured I might as well round it out with strawberry. And I got fudge sauce…”

            “Fair argument. I prefer vanilla with fudge sauce, so top marks…” Bradley says, throwing him a wink and Jake flushes, because he knows Javy is going to take that as some sex role-play thing when it’s not, just a reference to their conversation yesterday. Fuck. Was it only yesterday?

            “Make yourselves at home, does anyone want tea or coffee? Bowls of ice cream? Or are we all wanting to forgo bowls and just eat directly from the tubs and enter sugar highs side-by-side?”

            He walks towards the kitchen and Phoenix and Bob follow him and he lets Javy tug him to the side a little.

            “He is not what I imagined.”

            “Nope. Pretty fucking hot right?”

            “I mean… I guess? I’m more impressed with the way he looks at you like he’d give you the world if you asked for it. I was worried that you were gone on this guy, but he seems pretty gone on you too, so… that’s good. You deserve a guy that wants to do everything for you.”

            Jake nods sharply, because he gets that. In theory. It’s nice to hear, even if hearing and feeling it so much in the last day has felt overwhelming, even if it has been positive. He glances up and Javy is looking at him like he understands, gives Jake a quick hug before heading to the kitchen to join the other two in getting ice cream. He glances around the living room and sees two new photo frames, Bradley’s graduation photo with Maverick set at about eye-level, and another frame set at about knee height, where the Admiral is in uniform with Bradley standing beside him, so there’s definitely no mistaking him and he grins.

            “Are you sure we haven’t met, you just look really familiar,” Phoenix is saying, like she’s trying to place him and Jake hides his grin. Wonders if Bradley knows Mav has a photo of him on his desk. An old photo, but still a photo.

            “Maybe I just have one of those faces?” Bradley suggests, catching Jake’s eye.

            They’ve clearly decided to start in on the ice cream, digging in and serving themselves up and using bowls; the kitchen isn’t big enough for five people, so he reaches to give Bradley a kiss across the counter and Bradley obliges by meeting him halfway. It feels so easy and the rollercoaster ride does a loop-de-loop again.

            “Jesus Bagman, did you become a vampire while you were deployed?”

            Jake looks to see what she’s talking about and Bradley’s Henley has pulled slightly, caught between the counter and his body as he stretched across to kiss him; revealing the highest of the marks Jake left and another a little lower. Bradley pulls back, tugging the Henley back into place and shrugs, clearly not embarrassed at all so Jake decides to follow his lead and just smirks at her eyeroll. Bob has headed out to inspect the bookshelves and Jake can feel the anticipation growing.

            “So, what do you do Bradley?”

            “I’m an engineer. A problem solver.”

            “Well, good thing you’re with the biggest problem we have then.”

            “Hey!” Jake objects, but they’re all laughing at him and he rolls his eyes, flicks them the middle finger, but Bradley is wrapping his arms around Jake’s waist and kissing his shoulder.

            “If you’re a problem then it’s the kind of problem I like to have…”

            The look Javy gives him is flat, like he thinks Jake is maybe an idiot for thinking that Bradley is somehow not into him. Or maybe Javy is the idiot, because there is no way that Jake is letting this go.

            “Hey Phoenix, do you mind putting the ice-cream back in the chiller?”

            She lets out a put-upon sigh but does it with a mouthful of ice cream, spoon hanging out of her mouth and Jake waits, watches as she opens and then closes the door, her eyes catching the photo. She’s generally more observant than Javy so he’s hoping she’ll get the ball rolling, or Bob will see the photos on the bookshelves first.

            “Is this… Who are these people in this photo?”

            “My parents and godfather…” Bradley says. “And me as a kid obviously. My dad died not long after that photo was taken actually.”

            “Oh… I’m sorry,” Phoenix says, looking uncomfortable and Jake wonders if that’s going to derail everything, but Javy is now looking as well, then glancing at Bradley.

            “Thanks. It’s fine. Was a long time ago now obviously. My godfather really stepped up and helped my mom raise me. She passed over twenty years ago though, so that’s one of my few family photos.” Jake hadn’t really put all that together and he wonders where Bradey usually keeps it.

            “I’m sorry, I just have to ask, what’s your godfathers name?”

            “Pete.”

            “Peter Mitchell. Maverick,” Javy states, looks to Bradley for confirmation and he gives a nod. Jake grins, pretty impressed Javy put I together the fastest. “Plus you have a moustache that belongs in a porno from the 80s…” Javy adds and Bradley’s eyebrows shoot up, he looks to Jake and Jake coughs, his ice cream catching in his throat with an aborted laugh. He’d forgotten he’d said that.

            “Holy shit, you’re Mav’s son. He has your photo on his desk,” Phoenix says. “That’s why you looked familiar!”

        ��   “Guilty as charged. Don’t hold it against me. Jake wanted to have a little fun…”

            “Hey! Don’t blame this on me!”

            “It was you going on about a triple blind…”

            “What are you guys talking about?” Bob asks, coming back to stand in the kitchen and he’s looking between them all and he wonders if he heard the conversation.

            “Bradley here is Mav’s son.”

            “Oh. Huh. That explains the photo of him on the bookcase. I was going to ask how you knew him.”

            “You must know Mav’s partner. Oh my god! You almost slipped up and told us he was coming to dinner tomorrow, because of course he’s coming to dinner tomorrow. At least you don’t have to worry about introducing the boyfriend to Mav!” Phoenix says, laughing and Jake shrugs, because she has a point. Not that he’d ever really thought about seeking Mav’s approval for that part of his life.

            “Wait, so you’ve already met Mav’s partner? It’s a guy right? That’s the big secret right? What with DADT and everything…”

            “That was definitely part of it… but uh…” He stops, feels unsure suddenly, because even though Admiral Kazansky gave him explicit permission, and Jake clarified, that he’s expecting Jake to tell them, so Mav can’t ambush them with the same information tomorrow he realizes the amount of trust he’s been given.

            “His partner’s also in the Navy. I met him this morning.”

            “Is it Cyclone?”

            “Idiot! He’s met Cyclone. Will we know them?”

            “Yes. And its going to fuck you all up so much…”

            “You’re enjoying this way too much,” Javy mutters.

            “He told me to call him Tom and made me waffles this morning, and I’m still processing it okay? I just want to make you all freak out like I did…”

            “Can’t you just tell us?” Phoenix asks, looks at Bradley and he shakes his head. Jake blinks. He just said his first name. What the fuck?

            “Nope. Jake made me put clues out and everything. Pretty sure you can figure it out. And you’re right, it’s not Beau.”

            “Did you just call Admiral Simpson by his first name?”

            Jake snorts, lets out a little laugh and catches Bradley’s eye, clearly amused.

            “I call most of them by their first names. Some of them I’ll call uncle… And I’m just a civilian remember.”

            “Holy shit,” Bob says, voice quiet and Jake looks to see what he’s looking at.

            Sure enough he’s finally noticed the picture of Bradley and Admiral Kazansky, sitting the perfect height to be noticed if you’re sitting down, but not if you’re standing.

            “Admiral Tom Kasansky.”

            “Bullshit,” Javy says, emphatic and Jake just smirks, knows he’s got a couple more bullshits to get through before he starts to accept it.

            “Are you… you’re… holy shit. You’re serious.,” Bob says, looking between Jake and Bradley and then back to the photo.

            “Yep,” Jake says, popping another spoon of ice cream in his mouth.

            “Is he telling the truth? I mean, anyone can doctor photos now…” Phoenix says, and again she’s skipping over him to talk directly with Bradley.

            “All true. I mean, I call him Ice because I grew up calling him that.”

            Javy makes a high pitched sound that Jake will take as something equal to a second bullshit.

            “Anyway, he wanted to meet Jake without the whole formal dinner thing. So he came around and made waffles.”

            “Bullshit. No fucking way did the COMPACFLT make fucking waffles!”

            “He did, and he is telling the truth,” Bradley says, starting to look a little worried that Javy seems to be freaking out. Jake moves an arm to wrap around his waist, gives him a quick wink to try and convey that everything is okay and it seems to relax him.

            “Wait… you seriously met Admiral Kazansky this morning?”

            “Tom,” Jake provides, ignoring the immediate sense of wrongness at the name, but he’s going for shock value.

            “Bullshit…” Javy says again, but it’s quieter now, and Jake can tell he's processed the worst of it.

            “Nope. He told me to call him Tom.”

            “I need a fucking drink.”

            “I can help with that,” Bradley says.

PART TEN

[captain-joongz]

Heroes

Pairing: non-idol!Kim Hongjoong x Reader (it's Hongjoong's POV)

Genre: angst

Summary: Hongjoong attempts to navigate a posh party after his whole life has fallen apart, while what he wants the most is standing only a few metres away from him. It doesn't help that he knows you want him too.

Word count: 3.8k

Warnings: it's very angsty, drinking, post break-up, forced break-up, controlling parent (let me know if i should add anything)

A/N: this whole piece is inspired by the song Heroes by David Bowie, it's just the right amount of emotional damage :')) also, this is my first time posting here, so I apologise if the formating is still a little wonky, hopefully I'll work it out soon :))

“Just… Don’t forget to be there tomorrow, okay?” Seonghwa’s voice rang out in my car and I sighed. “Don’t worry, I know I can’t afford to miss a gathering like that. Everyone that means something in this city is going to be there.” My answer didn’t seem to calm him down whatsoever, even if I couldn’t see him through my phone screen I knew as much. I stubbornly refused to address what he was talking about and instead started talking business. After a while of mindless chit-chat he tried again.

“She will be there tomorrow… I’m sure you know that. Please, Hongjoong, don’t do anything stupid.” I knew he was just trying to look out for me but I couldn’t help getting a little annoyed with him. Even after all this time, you were still a touchy subject. I sighed again, this time louder. “When have I ever done something like that?” I attempted at a joke and got a little chuckle from Seonghwa in return. “Don’t worry, my best friend turned business partner, I’ll be the picture of sainthood and patience.” Then I ended the call.

Needless to say, I was not that. I got to the garden party about twenty minutes ago and was already agitated beyond belief. Seonghwa hasn’t got there yet and I was stuck drinking white wine in a corner of a room watching old rich men laughing at stories that only old rich men find funny. I could feel my lips turning into a scowl and barely managed to look respectable and approachable to the top society.

Just a few years back, I was nothing. A little boy from a poor background who only dreamed big, but deep down knew that a world like this would never let him achieve that. I didn’t come from money like most of these men, I didn’t have centuries of generational wealth at my beck and call. I was the one they laughed at and looked down on, the one who had to fight for every penny they dropped.

I started a little company with my best friend, originally hoping to make our own indie clothing line. Just something small to give us enough money to live normally. But we needed funds to take off and so we started chasing after the kind of people we both hated begging them to sponsor us. That’s when you came into my life. And everything changed.

Back then I hated these parties as much as I do now but I didn’t know how to hide it yet. Seonghwa was much better at looking pleasant and entertained, I usually stood next to him burning holes with my eyes into anyone who wanted to talk to me. You swooped in, all wide smiles and melodic laughs and gave me a once-over.

“You look exactly how I feel.” It came out of your mouth on a laugh and I felt myself relax. “Also here to charm these bastards into giving you a bit of money?” I gave you a flirty smile and took a sip from my glass. I didn’t even remember what I ordered.

“Actually no, I’m here because one of these bastards is my father.” I froze and I heard Seonghwa next to me choke on something. You looked serious for a moment and then burst out laughing. And then you spent the entire night introducing us to people and whispering little sassy comments into our ears. I never knew one could have so much fun here.

I realised pretty quickly you are someone I will fall in love with. It never felt like a hypothetical. Loving you was absolutely inevitable. And when I did, you were there holding my hand whispering how you love me too. It was the best thing that’s ever happened to me. You were the best thing that’s ever happened to me. And then you were gone.

You didn’t want to be, I knew that. It was your father. I met him a few times after you introduced us and he figured out pretty quickly that something was happening between us. And he didn’t like it. One day he called me into his office for lunch. When I came he only looked at me over his desk.

“My daughter will marry someone better.” That was all he said.

“Leave her alone.”

I didn’t.

We both agreed on continuing our relationship and that we would keep it a secret. Me and Seonghwa managed to sell our idea to a big wig that owned a few luxury hotels and he agreed to sponsor our humble beginnings. At this time Wooyoung and Yeosang joined us, after we hired them off an ad to model our clothes during the business meetings. Finally, our dream was taking off. It worked for a little while. You helped us a lot back then, helping us with ideas and even some sewing when we needed every hand we could get. The project was our baby, us five.

With time we grew tired of sneaking around. We became careless, too in love to think about the consequences of being seen together or getting caught by your father. And so one day we were.

Unfortunately, I don’t know the half of what happened, you didn’t want to talk about it too much. But I knew enough to understand you were leaving. I’ll always remember your teary sad eyes as you were walking out the door.

“He’ll sink your company if I don’t leave. I can’t do that to you Hongjoong, not after you worked so hard for it.”

After that I haven’t seen you again. I heard about you here and there, after all I was still in the same social circles as you. But I knew you weren’t allowed to talk to me. I would catch glimpses of you out of the corner of my eyes and then you would disappear into the crowd. That was all that was left of us.

It’s already been three hours since I came here and I was officially tired of small talk. Everyone asked me the same questions, they all wanted to know the same things.

“Congratulations on your latest release, Mr. Kim. I heard it was a success,” said one of the men my benefactor brought over to my corner. I gave him a tight-lipped smile.

“It was a joint effort of the whole company,” I replied politely and looked over his shoulder to see Seonghwa laugh at something Yunho said. They came here together about 40 minutes after me due to having to solve some issues with a design we were currently working on.

“Speaking of company, I remember when it was just you and Mr. Park. It was a pleasant surprise to meet Mr. Jeong too,” said someone else, I wasn’t even paying attention to who.

“Yes, yes… There’s eight of us now, thanks to the endless support of Mr. Byun we were able to expand rather quickly,” I gestured at our sponsor and gave a business smile. “It’s a big relief as we now have enough hands on deck to work comfortably.” Conversation moved on for a little bit and I dissociated again, not listening to a single word until I felt Seonghwa move to my side. When I looked up at him he looked extremely nervous, but before I could ask one of the men directed the topic back to me.

“You know… I really wasn’t expecting you to show up. Considering…” he chuckled a little bit and I felt myself stiffen. There was a mean glint to his eyes and I knew they all will properly enjoy making me uncomfortable with this.

“Yes, considering…” someone else added with a smirk, “Have you met the host of tonight’s party yet?” Silence fell and everyone looked at me expectantly. The host of tonight's party, as in Mr. Lee – as in your father. Even though our relationship was never quite made public, it was a well-known matter. Just as our break-up, no matter how hard Mr. Lee tried to make it disappear. He was thoroughly embarrassed by his daughter entertaining the advances of such a low-born as me, but his desperation to keep this all under wraps was what made it even juicier for everyone to talk about. That’s how I found myself in this exact same position every time I chose to show my face at these events.

Before I could say something, Seonghwa stepped in with his gentle polite shut-down. “Yes, we’ve all said our hellos to him when we came here,” he said and smiled in that way me and Yunho knew meant he was two minutes from distributing slaps. It was a lie, but one said with such nonchalance that everyone believed this boring outcome to be true. They hoped for blood and instead got this. From there the conversation quickly moved on to different topics and no one brought it up again. Eventually the men saw someone more interesting and dispersed, leaving only me, Seonghwa and Yunho.

“Thanks, if I had to answer that one more time I’d murder someone,” I said to Seonghwa with what was supposed to be a laugh but instead came out as a bitter chuckle. My fingers tightened around my glass and I attempted to calm the swirling vortex of uncomfortable emotions currently wreaking havoc on my psyche. Admittedly, I was doing a pretty shit job at it.

“Man, these vultures really never change,” Yunho whispered with a smile and clasped his hand on my shoulder. He squeezed few times to give me courage and then let go. I smiled tiredly at him and clanked our glasses together. “That they never do…”

I was glad both of these men were here. Where Seonghwa was all cold and polite, Yunho came in with amusing stories and boyish charms. Once you started listening to him, he soon had you wrapped around his little finger and you found yourself hanging onto his every word. It was very useful at directing conversation and distracting people when they started asking stupid questions.

Seonghwa hasn’t said anything yet and when I looked at him, he was still watching me with that same sadness and nervousness from before. “You haven’t left this spot since you came, don’t you at least want to move into the garden for a little while?” he said finally and I realised he was in his full mothering mode. As I opened my mouth to give him a funny retort, my eyes flitted around the room and suddenly I was looking straight into your eyes. The words got stuck in my throat and instead came out a little strangled noise of surprise. You waved at me subtly and smiled a little. I awkwardly did the same. Then you turned around and walked out. My hand automatically reached for a fresh glass of wine and I drank it in almost a single gulp, which freaked out Seonghwa.

“Maybe we should go, we did what we came here to do anyway…” he said and reached for me but I refused. “If we leave now it will be considered in bad taste,” I retorted, “Don’t worry about me, go out there and make me proud. I’ll just stay here and keep myself out of everyone’s way.” Yunho laughed at my words but Seonghwa still looked concerned. In the end, he let himself be dragged out into the gardens. I stood there alone. Right, since you left, I was anyways.

I kept myself occupied by drinking, which wasn’t really the best idea. When I looked out of the window again, it was already dark outside and most of the people moved back in. You were back in too. I heard you, heard your laugh as you held conversation with someone. It felt as close as if you were standing right next to me, laughing to something I said. As if on instinct I looked after the source of the sound and our eyes met for the second time that evening. You nodded. I did too. I felt Mr. Lee burning a hole into my side with his eyes just as I saw Seonghwa warningly shake his head. So I looked back down, right into my drink and wallowed in drunken self-pity.

I knew I should let it go. I should have let it go by now. It’s been months. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t make myself stop thinking about you, about us. How could I when you were so abruptly torn out of my life? Inappropriate relationship my ass. Embarrassment my ass. Everyone knew anyway. That I love you and you love me. I didn’t understand why it was a problem. I guess I just wasn’t good enough. Wasn’t wealthy enough. I would still take care of you, better than anyone could. I would give you anything, everything you asked for. So why? Why was it a problem?

I took another sip from another glass and looked at you again. I could feel Seonghwa’s disapproving energy from across the room but I ignored it. Things started blurring together, so I just stood around frowning and drank. When I could see clearly again you were gone. I lost you a long time ago and yet you still disappear.

The party was still in full swing, people now drunk enough to loosen up. All around me it was buzzing with laughter and small-talk, the men switching to joking about their wives while still pretending to talk business while the ladies emboldened by alcohol started making eyes at the young waiters. I made a disgusted face and prayed for these poor souls.

I couldn’t see Seonghwa nor Yunho anymore either and I was trying to persuade myself to move so I could find them and we could finally leave. But before I managed to move a single finger a voice tore me out of my thoughts. A sweet familiar voice.

“Hey…” It was you. You were standing on my right, close to the doors that led outside. I didn’t even notice you get there, too preoccupied with feeling sorry for myself. My heart was beating out of my chest. It was beating so hard I was afraid it was going to jump right out, right into your hands. That’s where it belonged anyway.

“Hi.” I croaked out and then embarrassedly cleared my throat. You laughed. God, how I missed that. I was just stuck looking at you with heart eyes, not even comprehending that this was really happening. Suddenly I realised that the room quieted down a little bit. The people that were present pretended to still have their conversations while straining their ears to listen to us. A fierce wave of anger ran through me but it died down as soon as I saw you gesturing to the open door.

“Do you maybe want…?” you didn’t even have to finish and I was already moving out with a scowl on my face aimed at everyone who was watching us with curious eyes. As soon as I came out panic hit me and I turned around. You must have seen the fear and laughed a little. “My father is currently in the saloon playing billiard and smoking cigars with the esteemed gentlemen, so it’s okay,” you said and sat down on of the chair on this little balcony. It was overlooking the prettily light up gardens. It was almost a romantic setting if the situation was different. I chuckled bitterly and sat down into the other chair.

I took the time to look at you properly. You were wearing a light pink dress. It was a very conservative cut, making you look almost like a happy housewife from the 50s. I let out another chuckle and you only raised an amused eyebrow at me. Your hair was longer too.

“I see that father has a say in your wardrobe too, now.” It wasn’t the best opening line. Definitely not something you say to someone you haven’t seen in months. The amusement was replaced by sadness and you looked really awkward for a moment. I wanted to slap myself for ever even opening my stupid mouth.

“You know, have to make the right impression…” you said quietly and silence took over. I hated it. I hated everything and most of all I hated your father.

“You realise that he’s going to hear about us talking anyway, right?” I asked you and took a sip. It was the last of wine I had, so I just set the glass on the table and instead nervously played with my fingers. Not holding anything allowed me to see just how much were my hands shaking. I looked over and you were also nervously smoothing out your dress over your thighs.

“Yeah, well, he’s going to kill us both but whatever,” came your response. You wanted it to sound nonchalant but we were both too anxious and running on pure adrenalin. But then you gave me a blinding smile and my heart almost broke all over again.

“Yeah, yolo or whatever,” I mumbled and looked into the garden. I heard you laugh and forbid myself from looking. My hands started to rise so I could drink but halfway through I remember I finished it already. So I let them down again. It was the middle of summer but thanks to the late hour, the weather became much more pleasant. I loosened my tie and made myself more comfortable in the chair.

The silence was slowly becoming oppressive as neither of us really knew what to say to the other. I gritted my teeth together and slowly counted the uncomfortably spent seconds slowly ticking away.

“I’m engaged.”

It felt as if the whole world was suddenly thrown askew. If I wasn’t sitting it would feel as if I was falling down the stairs. Slowly I turned to look at you. There were tears on your face. I realised that my eyes were also getting wet. Shit, either I’m too sober to have this conversation or I’m too drunk to not make a fool out of myself. My hand subconsciously moved to lay over my heart, as if to check if it was still beating. It felt as if it wasn’t, wouldn’t really surprise me.

“So this is why you wanted to talk outside…” I said slowly and suddenly my words were slurring more together. It was hard to speak over the emotions of my whole life crumbling to dust.

“Don’t you want to know with who?” you asked quietly. I could see you were too afraid to look at me properly, only glancing over from the corner of your eyes. I scoffed at your question.

“I can imagine with who. Your father has a clear type,” I said bitterly, “Probably with someone that can afford to golf with him in the country club.” You were silent and I knew you were crying. So I turned around again and looked into the garden, stubbornly ignoring the tears about to drop from my own eyes.

“We could run away together…” you whispered and I spun around again. “What!?” I almost screamed that and then checked if anyone inside heard. It seemed that no one noticed. I turned to you again. “What do you mean? Are you serious?” It was absolutely stupid idea. I started regretting not being more drunk. But then I looked at your face and saw your desperation and I realised. You mean it. You’re absolutely serious.

A lightning of hope flashed through me so strongly it almost jerked my whole body. But as soon as it appeared it was gone too. There was no way anything good would come out of that. Your father would cut you off and he’d make sure none of us ever found any respectable job. I couldn’t take everything away from you like this. I wouldn’t. Still I smiled at you and said yes. We both knew.

“We could, you could come to live with me and Seonghwa. He’d nag us all the time but all of us would have movie nights…” I whispered and finally felt the tears trickling down my face. I didn’t even bother to try and wipe them away. When I looked over you were crying too.

“We could just get up right now and leave and never come back,” you said. Neither of us made a move to get up. We just looked at each other. “I would help you with your company, I’d sew again…”

“We’d live off convenience store snacks and whatever Wooyoung brought over for us.” We laughed at that, remembering how he was always pretending to be mad at us for eating at his place too much.

“We’d be together forever… We’d win…” you whispered and I couldn’t hold back the sob that fought its way out. I had to turn away from you for a moment to try and compose myself, even though I heard you crying right next to me. We knew it was impossible, but for a few sweet moments we let ourselves imagine our life together. No one spoke then and after a little while I heard rustling of you getting up.

I didn’t want to look. I didn't want to see you leave and I didn't want you to see me cry. But I knew I’d never see you again and everything be damned, I wouldn’t waste my last chance to lay my eyes on you.

You smiled and even with your face all wet and red and puffed up from crying, you were the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen.

“I better go,” you whispered again and gestured to the door, “before my dad finds out.” I laughed at the irony of the words. And then I nodded. “Yeah… See you.” The hopeful tone I said those words in was completely against my will. I wouldn’t. But I wanted to believe. You didn’t reply to that and then you slipped inside, forever slipped out of my reach.

I don’t know how much time passed, but when Seonghwa found his way to the balcony, I was still numbly sitting in the chair looking out into the gardens with dried tears on my face. Within few seconds he was on me, holding my shoulder and looking at me with gentle sad eyes, asking me what happened. I was silent. When he was guiding me back inside, I was silent. When Yunho saw us and walked over with concern written all over his face, I was silent. When we were walking out, while we were driving back home, when we were standing in the elevator taking us up to our flat, I was silent. All I could do was wish. Wish we could be heroes, just for one day.

A/N: hope you liked it! don't be shy ^^

[theghostofashton]

wip wednesday

thank you for the tags @bonheur-cafe and @carlos-in-glasses

i'm working on two aus right now, going back and forth between them, so here's a little from the exes to lovers one

TK keeps sneaking glances at Carlos, trying not to look long enough that he notices, but unable to tear his eyes away. The normal, roommately thing to do would be to move on, act like he didn’t walk in on what he walked in on and erase those couple minutes from memory, but he can’t. He can’t stop thinking about it. Carlos was so upset. The pain in his voice, the tears, don’t feel like something he can just forget about, ask him if he wants to go to the dining hall in a bit or whether he’s okay to leave the lights turned off while pointedly ignoring everything he just heard. But they aren’t close enough for TK to ask him about it, and he doesn’t know of any of Carlos’s friends he could call for him right now. He doesn’t even know if Carlos has any friends that could come be with him right now, and that makes his chest hurt. “Hey, uh,” He says, as Carlos lifts his head and rubs so roughly at his eyes it makes him wince. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to walk in on…” “S’not your fault. You couldn’t have known,” Carlos says, his voice quiet and slightly hoarse. After a couple moments, he adds, “I’m sorry you had to hear that.” TK thinks Carlos should be the one being apologized to, not the other way around, but he doesn’t want to start anything, so he lets it go. “My dad’s a firefighter,” TK says. “So Thanksgiving’s never a huge thing for us, he’s usually working it. But his firehouse does a dinner, every year, for the crew and their families, and anyone else that wants to come, that my mom and I always go to. You’re welcome to join us.” It’s all he’s ever associated Thanksgiving with, and he used to hate that, especially when all of his friends would come in after break with their stories about their traditional Thanksgiving dinners with all of their extended family, sounding like they were plucked right out of all the movies. But having been away from home for the past couple of months, he’s found himself actually looking forward to going to the station. It’s not the same as what everyone else has, but it’s his. And he misses seeing the crew all the time. He even misses his parents. He hasn’t seen them since Families Weekend a few weeks ago. Carlos sniffs. “That’s really nice of you, but I wouldn’t want to impose. It’s only a few days. I’ll be fine here.” “You wouldn’t be!” TK insists. “My dad always says the more, the merrier. There’s a lot of food, games, it’s fun. And on his crew is really nice. Please come.” A hint of a smile peaks out onto Carlos’s face, and TK’s heart soars. “I’ll think about it,” he says. “Thanks, TK.”

no pressure tagging @reyesstrand @sanjuwrites @chaotictarlos @paperstorm and leaving an open tag for anyone else who sees this and wants to join!

[risebto]

So I saw someone else just ask if anyone will ever see the silly side of purple and I was wondering if you had any personal headcanons for purple in this fic that you have yet to share? Totes fine if not I’m just really curious (I love BTO sm 😭🫶)

YES okay so this is off the top of my head so i can’t remember if they’ve been mentioned before or not but i just wanna share

Purple was a kid who was really invested in space. he wanted to be an astronaut, had the little star protection light in his room, etc. part of this fascination is definitely from the fact that he never had the ability to see the sky as a kid, since he was underground. (this reminds me of a scene that i had an idea for… but idk if i’ll add it!)

Purple did actually attend a Yokai public school when he was younger. he does have documentation, and he is a legal citizen (of the Hidden City). draxum pulled him out of school after bullying due to his scars (thought mostly it was because the Council of Heads was getting on his ass and he didn’t want to put Purple at risk of being targeted.) He had private tutors and at least some formal education. He a smart boy!

Purple has a tendency to over apologize. I feel awkward adding this in dialogue because (even though you cannot talk to me without hearing me say “i’m sorry” at least 15 times) i think it breaks the flow and would be a little annoying to read.

Dude gets so excited when he knows the answer to a question. someone will be like “ugh why does x have to be this way” and he’ll push up his glasses and say “WELL ACTUALLY”. not because he’s mean or anything, but because he genuinely likes to divulge information.

Purple will burn the ends of his mask off. Yes, he knows there are scissors. No, he doesn’t need them. also he’s an edgy 14 year old so he absolutely will draw a slit in his drawn on eyebrows.

Purple likes to fuck with Leo. I said this in the Discord but I absolutely think Leo would say some mundane saying like, “I’m so hungry i could eat a horse!” and purple would whip around in horror and respond, “You would WHAT? Do you KNOW how offensive that is to horse yōkai?!”

i don’t remember the context for this but i think it’s still funny:

"I could use my bombs."

"WHY DO YOU HAVE BOMBS?!"

"Tsk. Youve clearly never blown anything up before."

"AND WHY WOULD I WANT TO??"

purple has moments of over/under stimulation where he will just bang his hands on a table. i think this would be so funny to hear in the middle of the night and leo just walks in and is like “jesus what are you doing??”

purple is very sensitive to sound. he relies on sound to ground him, to keep him calm, but it can also be his worst nightmare.

purple watched black butler. idk when or why but he did. oh and undertale.

he grew up in Game Theory. i don’t care if he doesn’t like humans, it’s entertaining and he’s a fucking nerd.