#joe got to do a little pour all on his own and giggle about it

[cementcornfield]

https://vt.tiktok.com/ZS89UA6AW/🥹🥹

Thank you anon! Perfect timing for the birthday boy 🥰

(love that Joe got to have his own little cup of slime to pour lmao)

[icallhimjoey]

so I love your work, I love how you write joe and yeah amazing honestly but I kid you not “Sunshine Blend Dark Roast” has got me kicking my feet and giggling like a little school girl🥺😂

me too! shit! and im the one writing it, gosh, what an experience! here's the last part, i hope it lives up to everyone's expectations! Wordcount: 3.2K ---

Sunshine Blend Dark Roast

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five

Joe was there at 3, just like he said he was going to be and even after your shift, you were all energy. All bouncy. All ready to go be around Joe for a little while, because this was exciting.

“Where do you want to go?” you asked, stepping out, knowing being outside with Joe was risky. You weren’t stupid. But then, as you fell into step together, Joe suggested Starbucks, albeit as a joke, and you huffed a laugh. Yea, not a chance, you big dumb idiot. “People will see us there,” you said, and you frowned in thought. It threw Joe for a loop a little because, yes, exactly. People would see you there. Was that not what you wanted? Be seen out with him?  

“You know what,” you stopped walking. “I can do a fantastic pour over for us at my place,” you narrowed your eyes, seemed to think something over, then looked at Joe, smiled, and said, “This way,” and turned on your heel with a hop. 

It took Joe a second to mentally adjust to what was happening. 

You were walking Joe over to your place. Your flat, house, whatever. Your home. It was so forward, and so direct, Joe’s brain couldn’t really catch up quick enough with the reality of the situation he had suddenly found himself in. It made him follow you like a lost puppy since you were clearly in charge of the situation. You wanted something from Joe. He just hadn’t expected it to be this and for you to be so casual about it all.

Okay.

Yes.

He’d be willing to give.

You were gorgeous, and sure, terrifying, but it was the fun kind of scary, and although he always felt like he was one step behind, not fully in on the joke, he followed your lead blindly. You wanted something from Joe, and Joe decided on the doorstep of your home, that he was going to give it to you. 

Stepping inside, you immediately apologized.

“Sorry, I forgot about the– okay, so you know how sometimes, you take a hot mug of tea to bed? I did that, yesterday, mug in one hand, phone in the other,” you yapped away as you shrugged off your coat and threw it over a chair. 

“And usually,” you stepped into the kitchen where you started rummaging through cabinets. “I throw my phone onto my bed, and then carefully set the mug down on my bedside table, but this time,” you turned to see Joe stand in the middle of your flat, gaze trained at your sofa.

“I flung the full mug of tea at my bed and only realised what I’d done when I carefully placed my phone down on my bedside table.” 

You smacked your hand to your own forehead before tipping beans into a coffee grinder. 

You’d slept on the sofa that night and hadn’t bothered tidying up after yourself. Your duvet, pillows, and even your fumbled up pyjamas all made a big intimate mess of your living room. 

Joe just stared at it until he let a small grin take over. A girl had never so readily shown him her bed before. Temporary or not. This was where you slept.

Joe knew what you wanted. And he was going to hand it right over. 

Joe joined you in the kitchen, leant against the counter and watched you make coffee with a smug smile playing on his face. It took you much longer than it did at the coffee shop, but you seemed even more into it, and Joe stared at your expert movements through half-lidded eyes as you rambled through more stories. 

Joe wouldn’t have gotten a word in edgeways. Not that he tried, anyway. There was something about having you absolutely steamroll him with information, all chaotically in your verbal communication whilst your hands seemed all steady, muscle memory working hard, crafting perfect cups of coffee for the two of you. 

When you finished, you turned to Joe with two cups in hand, and Joe knew this was his chance. 

You’d stopped talking, looked at him all expectantly, and Joe found the courage to just, go for it. 

He stepped forward, let his hands find your hips and grinned at you as he got closer.

You didn’t smile back.

Joe leant in for a kiss, his movements fast.

But you leant back as well. Moved away just as quick. Nearly spilled the coffee, didn’t speak, but your face read pure fear as you stared at Joe, who still had his hands in an inappropriate place on your body.

Then it dawned on him, and it burned him up from the inside out.

It landed like a gut punch.

Pure knocked Joe’s breath straight out of his lungs.

A grand misstep.

Way worse than all the prior ones. Combined.

Humiliated and horrified.

Oh no.

What the fuck did Joe think he was doing? The complete doom that overtook him shattered everything he’d believed to be true up until this point. The voice in his head was screaming, top of its lungs, deafening horrid sounds that made Joe want to actually vanish.

Joe’d missed the last step of the long winding staircase again, but this step was reflective, bright orange, had been so difficult to be missed. But he missed it. Totally missed it. And he could run all he’d like, big steps, in a bid to save himself, but there was no way his knees weren’t going to meet the floor and scrape themselves bloody.

This was a misstep that could scar. Leave real marks, Joe knew. It was the worst thing Joe had ever done and he plummeted right into thick, sticky anxiety.

You watched Joe take stiff, robotic steps over to your sofa and sit down on top of your duvet, head in his hands, absolutely shitting bricks. He was muttering to himself, rocking slightly, talking himself through what appeared to be an active panic attack.

You looked at the coffee cups in your hands. You were fine. That was just a weird move. You were just meant to be having a coffee together. Your mind flooded with things to say, jokes to make, ill-timed and harshly worded, but Joe didn't need putting in place. Joe needed help, and you looked at the coffees in your hands and thought of what you could do to help.

“Do you... do you want some whisky in yours? I think I have some,” you placed the coffees back down and opened a cabinet. “Oh, I don’t. I’ve got baileys. Would you like some baileys in your coffee?”

You turned to look at Joe. Still rocking. Still muttering.

“Joe?”

Joe snapped to look at you, but didn’t say anything.

Joe was about to break.

“Yea, all right. He looks like he needs it,” you said to no one. “I’m just going to go ahead and...” you poured in some baileys. Then, also in your own cup, to not make it weird. You looked over your shoulder at him. “Little more,” and gave Joe’s cup another healthy splash of liquor. Oof, that was definitely too much.

How to navigate Joe Quinn, sat on your sofa, which was also now your bed for the time being, going through a panic attack because you didn’t kiss him back? Safe to say this was a situation you never thought you’d find yourself in. But here you were. And alcohol seemed like a reasonable solution, no?

You sat down next to Joe, curled a leg under your bum to sit on and placed Joe’s coffee on the table in front of him.

He then turned to you, not making eye contact, and he was shaking. Because he hadn't just tried to kiss you, had he? He was going to go in for more, wasn't he?

Joe was reeling. Dizzy with all of it. He didn't know why his eyes were wet, but he knew he had questions.

“You don’t want to… I mean, wait… but, you don’t?”

You did. You did. But this wasn’t how people went about things, was it? Not how you had ever gone about things, at least, and just because this was Joseph mother fucking Quinn pressing his body up against yours in your kitchen, didn’t mean you were going to go about things in this way right now. You’d never even properly talked with him, had you?

You weren’t going to be that easy.

Weren't going to let it all pop, only to let it all fizzle out way too fast.

You weren't disposable.

But, yes, you did want to.

You wanted him to make you see full galaxies, the ones that lived behind your eyes. You wanted him to crowd all your senses. You wanted his arms around your waist, and his eyes so close to yours that your eyelashes would tangle when you blinked. You wanted that mouth on yours, softly, because look at how plush his lips were. But then also roughly, because this man gave you cute aggression and you needed to squeeze him until his skin broke and all his bloody guts spilled out. Kiss him until you were both bleeding from your mouths.

But you also wanted to hold and protect, because Joe looked broken a little, pained inside in dark places you didn’t know how to reach and it was an unknown mixture that didn’t seem to want to emulsify and gel properly within you. 

Fuck and caress.

Hurt and comfort.

Smack him across the face, because what the fuck, Joe, but then also hug him so very tightly, whisper that it was okay and that you had him.

You did want Joe to kiss and to touch and to hold. You did. But not right here right now, you didn’t. You just wanted to have a coffee with him, so you shook your head and couldn’t help the little smile as you scrunched up your brows at him. Joe looked so lost, it was a little endearing.

“What do you want?” Joe didn’t get it. Never understood. Couldn’t even begin to understand.

“I don’t know,” you shrugged, all casual, like Joe hadn’t just died and traveled to hell and back right in front of your eyes.

“I like playing. See you go all shy. Give you compliments to see your ears go red,” you confessed. It didn’t help. Joe just stared at you; blank faced. You tried to see cogwheels turn, but Joe gave you nothing. So then you suggested, “Maybe we can hold hands later.” and it made Joe turn his head away from you slowly to stare into nothingness for a moment.

It gave you a moment to taste your coffee. Ooh, yes, that was definitely too much baileys in there. You looked at Joe’s cup – that was going to be undrinkable, surely.

“Hold hands?” he then sputtered. So confused. Almost grossed out by the looks of him, as if it was a preposterous thing to suggest.

“Yea, holding hands could be nice, couldn’t it?” you shrugged again, smiled thinking of it. Holding hands with Joe would be nice. You were kind of right. The voice of reason resided within you, you concluded.

“Why?” he spoke on an exhale.

What a question. Joe was really going through it.

“Pffft... I don’t know, why do people ever hold hands?”

You thought you’d gotten him a little out of his brain there for a moment, but he slumped right back in. This time you could see how his eyes darted around the room. Cogwheels inside definitely turning. Gaining up speed too, by the looks of it. His breathing steadied slightly, and you thought, okay good, Joe was coming back around.

And he was.

Because then he turned back to you, and offered you his hand.

Holding hands would be kind of nice, Joe agreed. The simple kind of nice he hadn't known had been missing from his life for a while now.

You looked at his hand for a moment, then scrunched your nose as you made eye contact with him. He still looked a little ashen, and you knew he was still spaced out, all floaty, locked up in his head somewhere. But, you could coax him out. You knew exactly how.

“Are you sure?” you teased, a little unsure if Joe was going to be able to handle your play.

“Yes,” Joe said, his lips threateningly close to smiling.

You got him.

“Just checking,” you said, as you took it, fingers interlacing. “I love a man who’s sure.”

Did you end the date all awkward? Yes.

It was a quick goodbye at your door, a strange hug that didn't really even count as a hug, you thought. It also lasted too long. Made it even weirder.

Did Joe promise he'd see you again the next day? Also yes.

He said he'd come in to get a coffee, promised it, two hands wrapped around one of yours as he said it, like he thought you'd absolutely die if he wouldn't.

Did you tell him, "Relax, you big weirdo"? No, but you sure as hell thought it.

Little Joey seemed far too fragile to take any more of your dumb shit yesterday, so telling him he was a weirdo didn't feel right. But today, as he walked in, he seemed... comfortable. At peace, a little. No tensed shoulders. No tight lipped smile. Maybe Joe had read your mind when you mentally told him to relax, because clearly, he'd listened.

"Good morning, what can I get you?" customer service voice, a chipper tone you'd never used on Joe before.

Joe stared up at the menu behind you, like a real customer would do.

"You know what, I think I'll have a large cappuccino,"

It took you a moment, but your smile was already there, tugging up the sides of your mouth because you didn't think Joe would ever surprise you. Not like this.

"Are you sure?" you barely got it out of your mouth, it sounded all strained and made Joe smile before he answered, "No."

And you laughed. Spilled all of your butterflies right out of your stomach within your laughter, right onto the counter, where everyone got to see.

"So adventurous!" you quipped as you reached for a cup. "I love an adventurous man,"

Now it was Joe's turn to laugh, and he shook his head. You had an answer for fucking everything, hadn't you?

Then, it was all giddy excitement.

You smiled at the man you were absolutely gone for, cup in hand, sharpie in the other, and had the audacity to ask for his name.

"Joe."

You couldn't fucking believe it. Your eyes turned into love hearts at Joe's stupid smirk and no one else existed for a moment. It was just you and Joe in the coffee shop and it was all pink, and all fuzzy. Joe just gave you his real name and let you win the game.

You loved playing games, and you always played to win.

Making a cappuccino never took this much time. You spent way too long on it, wanted to make sure you did it real good for him, not make him regret straying from his safe space, where he was comfortable, where he has the boring usual. It was just a regular cappuccino, but, it wasn't. It was much more than that.

When you finished and slapped the lid on, Joe was there at the end of the counter, waiting, like he always was, and where you always found the time to play. You held out the drink to Joe, and Joe moved to take it, but then, like last night, you moved back. Out of his reach. For a fraction of a second, Joe's face fell, but your grin saved it.

"You want this?"

And they were words of magic, because Joe then, for the first time in months, dared to think of what he wanted.

"I do,"

"Then come get it," and you bent your full body over the counter, leant onto your elbow, but held your other hand back, outstretched all the way, the cappuccino far behind you. It meant Joe had to get closer to reach. Way closer, until he was close enough to kiss.

"You want this?" You whispered, but still smiling, and you could feel in your bones just exactly how much Joe wanted it. Joe's feet found the last step of the large winding staircase safely this time. Knees unscathed. All guilt washed away as your lips found each other, and you kissed.

Joe wasn't the one who closed the distance between you, that was you, but Joe was the one who decided he could wrap hands around your neck, strong fingers around your jaw with thumbs across your cheeks. Joe wasn't the one who let your kiss grow deeper, that was you, but Joe was the one who licked his tongue across your lips, even though your mouth was already open to begin with.

You kissed until you wanted to climb over the counter, and Joe's head was spinning. Absolutely gone for each other. This is what Joe wanted, and the sheer realisation of it filled Joe all the way up the brim with strength. Self-confidence. Force. Energy. The want to play. It filled Joe up with all this good, so much, you felt it drip into your own mouth, and it made you smile. It made you smile hard, until it made you laugh and Joe couldn't hold back his own throaty giggles anymore as you finally broke away from him.

Joe was blushing like you'd never seen a man blush before. Neck, cheeks, ears; all rosy red and blotchy and cute, oh so fucking god damn adorable, lips all shiny, you could hardly stand it.

Joe reached for the cappuccino you'd forgotten about, were about to drop if you hadn't been reminded of it, and said, "bye," real close to your face, making you hold in a squeal. And Joe could tell. Just made his grin grow even wider as he was about to step out.

"See you tomorrow, idiot!" you shouted after him before he did.

And outside, Joe saw.

For the first time in months, you'd not written Joe on his cup. Joe gave you his real name. For the first time, his real name! Gave it to you, for you to write it down on his cup, and then, you hadn't.

Joe sighed. Smiled. Shook his head and moved his cup so his hand covered the word "idiot" you'd written in all caps, because other people wouldn't understand, and took another sip.

Actually, this cappuccino wasn't all that bad.

Maybe he'd try something different again tomorrow.

He wasn't sure, and wasn't that beautiful?

He'd see where this adventure would take him. Walls down, voice silenced, darkness aside and sweet golden sunbeams cascading down. Maybe he'd focus solely on what he wanted.

What did Joe want?

Joe knew.

Joe wanted to wear sunglasses and stare straight into the sun for hours. Joe wanted to risk going blind, because it was all play, and it seemed so fun. Joe wanted to leave the dishes for a moment, because he was going to nail this essay, he just knew it. Top marks, he was so sure.

Joe knew what he wanted. Knew what he liked. Knew exactly what he craved more of.

It was scary. But it was so fun. And it was all you.

---

The Taglisted: 

@ghostinthebackofyourhead @dirtyeddietini @kiwisa @jasminearondottir @josephquinned @cancankiki @sidthedollface2 @dylanmunson @munsonsgirl71 @alana4610 @emmamooney @xomunson @sadbitchfangirl @thatonefan-girl @paola-carter @eddiemunsonfuxks @figmentofquinn @haylaansmi @thewondernanazombie @munsonmunster @kellysimagines @mybffjoe @harrys-tittie @chaoticgood-munson @jenisnotlost @sherrylyn628 @bdpst-massacre @xeddiesbattattsx @05secondsofsexgods @lovelyblueness @adoreyouusugar @nadixq @prozacandnicotine @munsonswhore86 @alwayslindie @thefemininemystiquee @hauntingbastille @eddie-joe-munson @ali-in-w0nderland @pepperstories @phyllosilicate-s @thebellenouvelle @luvrsbian @joesquinns @choke-me-joey @alizztor @thelostmoonofpooosh @did-it-work @capricornrisingsstuff - (tag list currently full)

[lemons3ason]

Jealous Gorilla (Smut)

(Kojiro Nanjo x Reader)

*MINOR PLS DO NOT INTERACT*

~~~~~~~~~~~

You could barely breathe with his thick cock ramming and stretching your wet cunt, the burn of your walls stretching to fit his massive size was painful enough to feel good in a twisted sort of way. If your hips dared to shy away from him, his large hands would grip the fat of your ass and pull you right back onto his length that you so ungratefully removed yourself from. Kojiro had never been this rough with you before, it was thrilling yet terrifying in a way, all over some praising for the younger skaters. It wasn’t your fault that Langa was so handsome and talented. That Reki was such an exceptional craftsman when it came to boards and his adorably contagious smile. That Miya was so mischievously cute and needy when it came to affection from you! Or that Shadow’s tongue piercing and make up skills were to die for! It was just harmless praises between friends why did it bother him so much.

“J-Joe...ngh...I-it’s to much. To deep.”, you whined, your thighs trembled with each grind his veiny member made against the special soft spot inside your pussy.

You cried out to the sudden stinging pain in your ass and looked over your shoulder to see his face darkened in an angry scowl. Soft whimpers escaped your lips as the hilt of his cock finally brushed against the entrance of your filled pussy. A ring of your lewd cream coating the base of his cock as one final thrust planted his cock deep inside your core, his heavy balls slapping against your clit as you came over his fat member.

“Who said I gave you permission to cum? Giving everyone else attention except me, who do you think you are ignoring me all day? Remember I’m the only one that can fill you up like this, that can make your belly swell when I’m inside your pretty pussy. So tell me why you’ve been ignoring me and flirting with all the other boys.”, Joe growled slapping your ass again since you had dared to move your hips.

You were simply being a brat, but you couldn’t exactly tell him that unless you wanted to call out of work for the next month. You had to think of a believable excuse that would make his affectionate side come back to spoil you. Despite the sting of his cock stretching you, you moved your hips all the way back until your ass pressed against the bottom of his abs and softly rolled your hips as tears spilled from your eyes. Your body shook making him feel guilty for making you cry and when your tear filled half lidded eyes turned back to look at him he felt his cock twitch as you softly whined, “Because you’ve been choosing your fangirls over me. You ditched our date the other day, forgot my birthday yesterday, and ignored me as you wrapped your arms around your fans when we got to S. You don’t love me anymore, you haven’t said it for the past week and my hearts so full of love for you but you don’t want it so I gave it to the boys since they seem to appreciate me.”, you cried wiping your tears away hoping that your acting was enough to convince him. Joe turned you over on the bed and looked down at your tear stained face in pure agony, your bullshit explanation had worked, he kissed your tears away and moved your legs so they would wrap around his waist while his angry dominant daddy persona melted away and returned to his soft daddy routine. He pulled his cock out of your pussy making you whimper from the empty feeling, he had to make up for being rude to you.

“Really love? You made me jealous because I made you jealous? Oh (Y/n), of course I love you. I love you so much, I can’t believe I did that to you.”, Joe frowned kissing your lips sweetly until you began to giggle against them, once he had you smiling again he decided to softly pound your pussy until his love for you was overflowing, “Hold onto me baby, I’m gonna pound you nice and slow okay?”

You nodded and wrapped your arms around his neck as he once again bottomed out in you. His hips got straight to work, gently thrusting his cock into you as it rubbed all the right places. Your toes curled in pleasure and squeals and moans poured out of your mouth like music. Joe smiled and attacked your clit with his rough fingers while whispering sweet words and compliments into your ears. “That’s it beautiful Angel, take me just like that. Stretch that pretty pussy for me all you want and don’t you dare forget how much I love you. I love you so much (Y/n), I only want you. Want to fill you up and put a little skater in you, wanna pound away into your cunt even as your swollen with our first baby. Do you want that?”, Joe asked sweetly suckling your breasts in an attempt to win you over.

Your overstimulated mind could barely produce a proper sentence but one simple nod was enough to tell your jealous lover what you wanted. The grip he had on your thighs would leave bruises, no doubt about that, but it still felt tender and sincere since he held you carefully in his strong arms. Soft praises and sweet ‘I love you’s left his lips making you kiss him to swallow up each word. His hot tongue against yours as his big cock rearranged your insides was wonderful. With each thrust into your gspot you came closer and closer to cumming, your walls now used to the gaping size his cock left them, he was to perfect for you.

“J-Joe...-“

“N-no baby. That’s not my name, not to you. Come on my little amore, call me by my name.”, he purred softly.

You panted for breath as his cock rammed into your plush swollen walls, he fit so snug inside of you, “K-Kojiro.”, you moaned wrapping your legs around his waist as your orgasm neared.

His name spilled from your swollen lips, each ram of his cock making you see stars. He smiled down at you, petting your sweaty bangs out of your face to enjoy the full glow of your orgasm. He groaned against your neck, your walls became unbearably tight over his thick member pulling his orgasm right out of it, he moaned loudly into your ear gripping your hips to keep you in place as he filled you to the brim with his seed. Your legs shook, your back arched off of the bed, and your moans practically became screams of pleasure as your own orgasm splashed against Kojiro’s pelvis. He smirked seeing your pretty little cunt squirt and attacked your clit with his fingers to pull the most of your orgasm out of your tiny body. Once you had finally collapsed to the mattress he kissed your face sweetly apologizing again for making you feel neglected.

“You did wonderful (Y/n), I’m sorry about hurting your feelings. I love I promise for the next month I’m all yours. Use me as you wish, my beautiful, gorgeous, goddess.”, he hummed against your ear pressing a sweet kiss to your cheek as you panted for breath.

“I love you too idiot, but seriously if you ever do this to me again than I’m going over to Kaoru’s and I’m not coming back.”, you warned reaching your arms out to him for cuddles.

He listened...he listened well because deep down he knew your threats were never empty.

[holdingforgeneralhugs]

can you write headcanons getting woken up by their kid who had a nightmare for dick winters, george luz and joe liebgott and their s/o?

Oh this is such an adorable request 🥺💓

Dick Winters

Lemme just tell you here and now, Dick Winters is wearing pyjamas that are made or 100% perfect father material.

His eyes flutter open when he feels a little hand tapping his arm.

"What's the matter sweetheart?" He asks, sitting up and yawning.

"Had a nightmare," his little girl whispers, eyes wide and scared.

"What's the matter?" You murmur, turning over and peering at them. But he tells you he's got it and to go back to sleep.

He stands up and scoops her up into his arms, carrying her back to her room.

"Why dont I read you a story?" He says, sitting back on her bed and tucking her against his chest. He picks up her storybook and begins to read.

When he feels himself starting to nod off he looks down and sees she's sound asleep, so he carefully tucks her in and kisses her on the forehead before heading back to his own bed and cuddling up beside you.

George Luz

George is the fun parent, getting the kids into all kinds of mischief and fun. And he absolutely adores them both, but daddy's little princess has him wrapped around her finger.

So when he's suddenly awoken by a little body crawling onto the bed between the two of you, he just moves the covers aside and hugs her close.

"What's got you up at this hour?" He asks quietly, glancing at you when you roll over and place your hand on your daughters back, rubbing it gently.

"Had a nightmare about a spider and got really scared," she mumbled, tucking her head into his neck.

"Well that just ain't gonna do," he tells her, grinning at you cheekily, "no need to be scary, I'll always be here to catch those pesky spiders for you lot."

You roll your eyes at him but she giggles, and you smile at him then because he's managed to distract her.

"Well little miss, it's well past your bed time."

"Will you sing me a song?" She asks sweetly, peering up at him, and how could he resist.

So he began to sing "You are my sunshine," quietly, and she was out like a light pretty quick.

You two decided to let her sleep in your bed, just this once.

Joe Liebgott

Joe really doesn't like being woken up, but when he opens an eye and sees the worried little face of his son he sits up right away and rubs his eyes.

"What's the matter kiddo?" He whispers, not wanting to wake you up.

"Had a nightmare Dad, and I can't go back to sleep," he replies, shuffling on his feet a little.

Lieb nods and takes his sons hand, leading him downstairs quietly.

"How about we have some hot chocolate and put on a movie?" He says, pouring milk into the pot and turning on the stove. He picks up his mini-me son and sits him up on the counter.

"Sorry for waking you dad," he sighs, swinging his legs back and forth, "I know it's silly I got scared over a stupid nightmare."

"Hey no need to apologise kiddo," he assures him, ruffling his hair, "you can wake me up anytime you need. And hell, sometimes I get scary nightmares too and can't go back to sleep."

"Really Dad?" He asks, eyes widening.

"All the time kiddo," Lieb assures him, pouring out the hot chocolate and carrying it into the living room, a pair of little feet padding along behind him.

"Cmon then, why don't we watch Pinocchio?" He asks, putting the video in the player and tucking the little boy against his side.

When you came down the next morning you smiled fondly at the two of them, tucked up on the couch and sound asleep.

A/N: writing this gave me all sorts of fricken feels omg I can't cope, what a lovely request🥺💓

Taglist:  @tvserie-s-world @geniedocroe @generousdreamlanddestiny @sunsetmando @cagzzz107 @howunexpectedlyso @alejodi0nysus @sunflowerchuck @now-im-a-belieber @anderperrysupremacy @50svibes @eugene-emt-roe @pennyllane @televisionboy @scientistsinistral @vv1nch3st3r

[clarawatson]

It Only Takes a Taste

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x [Fem]!Reader (GN pronouns, fem coded stuff, but I’m not sure where this is going as a larger work so we’ll say Fem!reader to be safe) Summary: You work at a diner. Aaron Hotchner falls in love with you. We’re not kidding around trying to make us all sound like profilers, just accept the diner life, we love it here. W/C: 1498 Warnings: none yet!  A/N:  First chapter of that diner!au i was talking about here! AO3 ps. I forgot to tag people, so: @willowrose99 & @genevievedarcygranger my beloveds. If you want to get added to the tag list jump in my inbox and i’ll try to remember to add tags every time i post. Where am I in this series?  01 | 02 | 03 | 04 |

~

When you first meet him it’s 5am and raining. You’re switching over shifts for your friend, Rita, because she’s been doing night shifts at the diner. This late into her pregnancy she shouldn’t be working, not technically, but she needs the money and she’s got insomnia because of the baby, so she works nights now. There’s always someone working with her, be it Joe (who’s got far too much muscle for a chef) or Lola (who can beat anyone to a pulp with a pie tray). In the early hours of the morning a bunch of tatt’ed bikies come and sit and talk about their extracurricular activities (definitely not legal) because one time there was an armed hold up and the police didn’t turn up until two hours after it had happened. People don’t like holding up a diner full of men who eat their own motorbikes for breakfast.

But when he comes in, he’s not any of them. He’s not even one of Lola’s nightly hook-ups (she needs the money, you don’t ask). He’s too well dressed in a grey suit (or is it black? Maybe it’s black), trying desperately to shove his I.D. badge in his pocket. He has a look about him that says ‘I’m part of one of the alphabet soup agencies’. A smile on his face, dead in the eyes, and the weight of the world on his shoulders. He fumbles with his wallet as he squints to read the menu behind the counter. The rain’s stopped dripping from his hair, instead he’s got droplets like his woken with the morning dew upon him.

“Hi love,” Rita coos as she hangs her apron up. She has a look about her that says she’ll eat this man for her breakfast. It’s an effort not to curse those pregnancy hormones some days.

“Go home,” you tell her, swatting her arm. “Put your feet up, rest, sleep while the baby does or some shit.” Rita sticks her bottom lip out and pouts, but she’s making grabby hands for her purse, which is stored where the tea towels used to be. Far too high to reach even when one’s not pregnant. You grab it down for her, ignoring the showering of thank-yous.

The new guy (who is getting more and more handsome by the second) is still looking at the menu. He doesn’t look like he’s going to stop looking and order any time soon.

“Are you sure you’re fine to take the metro in this weather?” you check. She’s rubbing her swollen belly and looking longingly at the booths that haven’t had anyone sit in them for hours now. 

“Wait forty-five minutes and I’ll take you!” Joe yells. He’s slaving over something in the kitchen even though it looks like no one’s ordered in hours. “Wife gave me the car ‘cause of the storm!”

“Forty-five,” you repeat and point her towards the seat that she’s been eyeing off. Rita sighs, nods, then goes out to the seat. “What can I get you?” Usually when addressing the customer you’d add something gentle like ‘sweetheart’ or ‘love’ or ‘dear’ because the customers like it and they come back because they think you’re treating them like a long lost friend.

He bats his dark eyelashes and rubs at his forehead.

“I don’t know.” He sounds tired, balancing on the very edge of exhaustion. He might just fall off into a pit of sleep that he won’t wake up from. Been there, done that. “Do you guys do coffee?”

You laugh and point to the brewed pot beside you. There’s one for each table, free refills with a pie purchase. It’s written in decorative lettering right above you on the blackboard.

“We can put it in a take-away cup. It’s before six so it’s free anyway,” you offer. The last bits a lie, but Joe doesn’t care about a cup or two of coffee going missing. He’ll catch it up later when he flirts with all of the mom’s coming through after school drop off. The new guy nods and pulls out a ten dollar note and shoves it in the tip jar. You raise an eyebrow at him, but he nods anyway. He’s like a broken bobblehead.

“I know.” He goes to the sweets display and searches through it like he’s looking for something specific. Maybe he is. You’ve not seen him in the diner before, and neither has Rita, but maybe he’s one of Lola’s regulars. Maybe you’d judged him wrong. 

“Anything caught your eye?” you ask, leaning over the counter as if you could see it from his angle too. Maybe you do it to show off just that little bit of cleavage. He notices, then looks like he’s done entirely the wrong thing as he licks his lips and blinks like a school boy.

“S-sorry,” he stammers, and Rita giggles. You point at her and give her a stern look, but she just puts her hand over her mouth and lies down on the seat. She’s still silently giggling because her belly keeps bobbing above the table. 

“I just…” he has that exhausted look on his face again.

“Long day at work?” The answer is always yes for the people who work at the alphabet agencies. He nods. “Take a seat, grab some coffee, take a minute. It’s only just gone five, you’ve got time.” 

He nods. He looks like he’s gotten his words all mixed up and they’re just sitting in his mouth, refusing to leave. Tongue tied doesn’t exactly encapsulate what looks like is going on inside his head. He sits at one of the chairs in front on the counter, and takes the coffee cup gratefully as you pass it to him.

He’s definitely an alphabet soup man. He sits in this weird stance like he’s countering his weight against a gun. His shoulders are hunched forward as if he spends hours a day doing paperwork. He’s got a nervous twitch in his hands like sitting still is only going to bring the next case.

You think about making a joke about turning on the cellphone jammer, but last time Joe made that joke the whole place ended up swarming with cops. Absolute disaster. No one’s going to do that one again. 

“Cherry, berry or apple?” you ask, grabbing a plate.

“Sorry?”

“Cherry, berry or apple?” Rita repeats from her booth. “For the pie, sweetheart.”

“Uh, I didn’t—“

“Eat it,” Rita growled. You pull a face at her even though she can’t see you. The guy smiles.

“Apple, please.” Well mannered. Sweet. He looks elated as you slide the apple pie to him and hand him the canned cream.

“Not as good as fresh, but it’s better than nothing.” 

He puts a generous amount on his plate. You half think he might like it more than proper cream. Rita leans up just enough to look at him as he digs in, fanning herself playfully before sighing and collapsing back down.

Joe brings out his tray of caramel salted cookies. They’re thick enough to look like cakes with a gooey caramel center, and they usually sell out pretty quickly. The new guy watches them intently.

“How much trouble am I going to get into if I give those to my son?” 

“How old is he?”

“Ten.”

You smile. That’s a good age. “How much do you hate his teacher?” 

He considers this with a gentle tilt of his head. “Not a lot. I’ll give it to him after school.” He pulls out his wallet again and Joe looks like he’s just hit the mother lode as he grabs one of the cardboard boxes. 

“If you really want to spoil your kid, y/n here can write really pretty on top.” You glare at Joe. He shrugs. He’s covered in cake batter and cookie dough, and smells like pancake batter. He’s always smelling sickly sweet, and like a well lived in home, despite looking like the living embodiment of Gaston. “She does it for my wife all the time.”

The handsome man’s phone buzzes. He checks it, then shovels the rest of his pie in his mouth like a starved man. 

“I have to go,” he says. He gives Joe another ten and tells him to keep the change. Joe looks like he’s about to break into a song and dance. You pour a fresh cup of coffee into a take-away cup and slide it across the counter to him. He thanks you a thousand times over then goes. With his cookie.

“Are you FUCKING KIDDING ME?” Rita screeches the moment the door shut with it’s little jingle. “I’ll-show-him-my-cleavage-but-I-won’t-ask-his-name?? No wonder you can’t get a date!”

“I’ll do it next time.” Not that there’s ever a ‘next time’ for these alphabet soup agents. They’re always looking for the next place to go to so they don’t have a ‘regular place’ that can be ambushed. 

But in a perfect world... you’d see him every day.

[motownfiction]

getting old before our time

Luckily, Sadie is the first person Sam sees when he returns home. She’s in the kitchen, mixing up some lemonade and dancing along to Joe Jackson on the radio. Sam smiles when he sees her there. His sister. Better taste in music than most sisters out there, he thinks. Best part about being a twin.

“Hey,” he says.

Sadie jumps, almost like she could ever really be startled by Sam. She smiles at him with all her teeth, and Sam suddenly feels himself overwhelmed by affection for his sister’s chipped front tooth. It’s the one she got chasing him around the playground when they were six and a half. Sam usually hates it when people chase him, but with Sadie, it’s always been different. He’s always felt like he’s racing to catch up with her. It’s nice, sometimes, when the roles are turned upside down on their heads. He smiles a little at the memory of being that young … at the memory of being far away from graduation. He knows Sadie can see it all in his eyes.

“Hey,” she says back. “You want any lemonade?”

“What’s French for obviously?”

“Évidemment.”

“Then évidemment.”

Sadie laughs and pulls the tray of ice cubes out of the freezer. She stirs the pitcher a few more times before pouring out a glass. She hands the first one to Sam. Even though he knew she was going to do that, he’s still overwhelmed by it, too. It feels like the first time all day anybody’s known exactly what he wants … exactly what he thinks he needs.

“I know you probably don’t want me to push,” Sadie says as she pours a glass of lemonade for herself.

“But you love to push,” Sam says. “So, I’ll allow it.”

Sadie nods, only a little bit bitter.

“How did it go with Mom and the campus tour?”

Sam exhales loudly. He knew the question was coming, but he’s still not ready for his own answers.

“Mom was … OK,” he says, and for now, he thinks he’s telling the truth. “But I don’t know about any campus tour. It was all a ruse. Your best friend set me up to meet with some music history professor. In her office. One on one.”

Sadie makes a face.

“I’m sorry,” she says. “I can’t tell if you’re setting up a joke or a stag film.”

Sam makes a face to match hers.

“Neither, neither,” he says quickly. “It’s just … that’s what happened. Lucy asked this professor to meet with me and try to convince me to apply to a four-year college. I was tricked. Ambushed. And a third word that sounds like it came from a comic book.”

Sadie giggles a little and takes a sip of her lemonade.

“You know, you are funny,” she says. “Maybe you should go to college after all. See if they can help you turn that into a career. Some funny people are in the money, 42nd Street.”

“Did you just address me as the Broadway musical, 42nd Street?”

Sadie looks down at the liquid in her glass.

“There’s also a movie,” she says.

Sam shakes his head, somewhere between impressed and disappointed.

“Dammit, Sadie Lou,” he says. “We’ve been twins for too long.”

“All our lives, I’ve heard.”

“Nah, there was a moment in ‘71 when we went our separate ways. We heard about The Beatles breaking up, so we figured we’d give it a shot, too. Didn’t last long. Before long, we were throwing a reunion concert on the roof.”

Sadie laughs out loud. The joke wasn’t too funny in Sam’s head, but he finds that’s often the case. The things that come to him in fifteen seconds would never come to most people at all. People are impressed by him. He’s just not one of them.

“OK, so, I was being kind of serious before,” Sadie says. “You are funny. And I think you know that in order to be as funny as you are, you also have to be smart.”

Sam feels his skin crawl a little bit. It’s not that he doesn’t want to be smart, and it’s not like he’s trying to hide it from himself. He knows he’s smart. He even enjoys it. He just doesn’t want the burden that comes with it. And he’s so tired of people acting like they don’t understand.

“I don’t know how you do it,” he says. “I don’t know how you get good grades.”

“Well, it’s not that hard,” Sadie says. “I mean … I guess it’s hard to do, but it’s not hard to figure out. What I do is … open the books and study them.”

“I know that. But don’t you ever feel like … like ‘Hooked on a Feeling?’”

Sadie makes another confused face.

“Are you asking me if I feel addicted to getting good grades?” she asks. “Or are you asking me if I ever feel like going, ‘Ooga-chacka, ooga-chacka?’”

“Both, sort of,” Sam says. “Like … remember back in junior high, when I was still occasionally trying to be smart? And I wrote that paper in English about why I thought Ponyboy in The Outsiders says he’s a Pepsi addict when he’s in the church, on the lam?”

Sadie nods.

“You said he was thirsty for pop and companionship,” she says. “And security. It was a good paper. Lucy was almost jealous of it.”

Sam chuckles.

“Almost,” he says. “But you know … I got an A on that paper. And … and I can’t explain it, but it felt really, unbelievably, indescribably good to get an A on something I knew was good. Something that I really liked. And I spent the rest of the quarter trying to figure out how I was going to top it. So, when we read A Wrinkle in Time, I wrote that paper about Charles Wallace being a saint. And it was so far-fetched, I got a C.”

“I remember.”

“Yeah, and I remember it too well. It gives me hives just thinking about it, and that was already four years ago. I exhausted myself over something I thought was going to be better than my first hit, and it didn’t land. It was a mess. I wasted all that time and energy on a mess, just to see if I could get excited about a good grade again. And it didn’t pay off. So, I thought … never again. Never again will I try to get a good grade on anything. It’s not worth it.”

Sadie sighs. It’s not the first time she’s hearing this story, but it’s the first time she’s hearing it in exactly the way Sam needs it to be understood. He can see the way her eyes change.

“You felt like a one-hit wonder,” she says.

“Yeah,” Sam says. “Hence the metaphor. Ooga-chacka.”

Sadie laughs, but only just a little. For a split second, Sam feels guilty, like he has to remember he’s not the only smart person in the world, not the cleverest man who ever lived. It’s just hard. When everybody rallies around you and begs you to use your smarts to someone’s good (Cui bono?), it’s hard to forget you’re not actually a genius.

Unless, of course, you are.

But Sam’s not sure he knows that yet.

“Right,” Sadie finally says. “Well … for what it’s worth, and I know it’s probably not worth much … I think you’d do really well in college.”

Sam laughs a little.

“Right,” he says. “Because I’ve done so well in high school. I deserve the next step up from that, right?”

Sadie shakes her head.

“College isn’t actually High School Part 2,” she says. “The things you read are supposed to be different. The people are supposed to be different. They don’t interrupt history tests for Lenten confessions, and you’ll never get pressured into training as a Eucharistic minister ever again, for as long as you live.”

“Yeah, but it’s other things,” Sam says. “It’s getting huge chunks of reading material every night, Blue Book exams, and everybody asking what you’re going to do for a career.”

“Do you not want a career, Sam?”

“I want to do something that’s interesting. Something that will make me happy. But I don’t want a bunch of business majors to jump down my throat about it. That doesn’t sound fun or exciting.”

“I don’t know, man. Could be the time of your life.”

Sam can’t help but laugh. He looks at Sadie for a long time. Sometimes, he forgets how much their faces are alike. Identical freckles. Same laughing brown eyes. Same wild caramel hair, which always looks like they’ve just driven through a wind tunnel in a vintage convertible. They’re Maggie with Mike’s eyes. That’s what everybody always says, anyway. But it’s not until right now that Sam thinks he really understands.

“Sadie?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you ever think about how we’re different?”

Sadie smiles very knowingly.

“All the time.”

Sam smiles, too. He loves how well he knows Sadie – and how well she knows him. But knowing each other is not the same as being each other. Sam thinks he used to want to be more like Sadie: always thinking about others, always turning in the best work, always assuming the best in people and never counting on the worst, even when she probably should. Now that they’re older (almost old enough, he thinks, but he’s not sure what for), Sam’s not sure he wants to be like Sadie at all. And he thinks that’s why he loves her so much – why he still thinks she’s the best around after a whole life next to each other.

“And if I really do what I say I’m gonna do,” Sam says, “if I really don’t go to college … you won’t think less of me, will you? You’ll still know … everything that I know?”

Sadie gives him another knowing look.

“I don’t think I could ever know everything that you know,” she says. “But I wouldn’t think less of you. I couldn’t. I wouldn’t know how.”

Sam exhales. It’s not all he needs to be relieved, but it’s something. Sadie is always something. He smiles again.

“Sometimes, I think you’re the only one who gets it,” he says. “That I can do things differently and still be OK.”

“Nobody else could really get it like I do,” Sadie says. “They can’t hear you the way I can. Just like they can’t hear me like you can.”

“Yeah.”

Sam tunes back into the Joe Jackson song on the radio. We are young but getting old before our time. He laughs, and Sadie laughs with him, even without saying another word.

It all sounds about right.

[emwritesfootball]

Hotel Encounter | Joe Gomez

Ok your writing has made me fall in love/lust with Joe Gomez soooo if you're still accepting, I'd love to put in a request inspired by a recent crazy dream?👀 Seducing him during a v steamy random encounter in a hotel sauna after finding yourself staying at same hotel as LFC on pre-season. Some absolute filth please 🤭 Thanks for everything you write for us!!!x

Word Count: 997

Warnings: unprotected sex (don’t fuck strangers without protection, y’all!), blowjob, etc.

- - -

You couldn’t believe it when you saw him traipsing in the hotel lobby as you were checking in. You could have sworn that you’d seen Joe Gomez, but you just figured your eyes were playing tricks on you so you dismissed it until you saw Trent and Virgil working out on your way to your room.

When you got on the lift, you ran into Hendo. He gave you a polite smile and nod, making small talk before he got off on the floor right below yours. You were too stunned to ask for a picture or autograph, not really caring to either because you didn’t want to look desperate and you felt like you were a little too old to be asking for autographs and pictures with footballers.

You went out to the pool, wanting to catch as much of the sun as you could while the weather was nice. Popping your headphones in, you cracked open the book you’d been wanting to start, letting the sun warm you as the world went on around you. Some of the other Liverpool players came and went, paying you no mind as they splashed about in the pool. You caught Joe’s eye once or twice when a shout made you look up, a little flutter in your stomach each time he smiled at you. He left the pool shortly after and you were tempted to follow him, but something held you back. A little voice told you that your time with him would come - you just had to be patient.

The next morning, you were up early, wanting to get started on your day before you got busy. You sat in the sauna, taking a moment to relax as you ran through your ‘to-do list’ when the door opened, disrupting your peace. You were about to make a snide, snarky comment to whomever was interrupting your zen but Joe’s voice came through the steam.

“Sorry. I can leave if you’d like.”

“No, you’re fine,” you replied, opening your eyes and giving him a smile. “Although, if I’m honest, I’d probably have been more upset if it was anyone but you.”

Joe chuckled and the sound went straight to your clit. “Yeah?” You nodded. “What makes me so special?”

“I’d answer that, but I don’t wanna risk sounding like a crazed fan.”

“The difference is that if you answered, you’d be a hot, crazed fan - and I’m more than okay with those.” Joe shot you a grin and you giggled.

You weren’t sure where your shot of confidence came from, but you stood up and locked the sauna door, turning to face him. “I’d rather just show you how sexy I find you so I don’t have to tell you.”

Joe sat back, spreading his legs and linking his arms behind his head. You could see his towel tenting as his erection grew and you dropped your towel before sauntering over to him. Joe’s eyes scanned your body, taking in your breasts and your curves as he tried to figure out where he wanted to put his hands and mouth first.

“You’re so sexy,” you whispered, dropping to your knees and reaching for the knot on his towel. Joe poured some more water on the coals in the sauna, the steam filling the room as you leaned down and put your mouth on his cock.

“Oh, fuck,” he groaned, his fingers wrapping around the back of your neck as you took him down your throat. You gagged on his length, your hand pumping what you couldn’t fit in your mouth as you sucked him off. “That’s it, baby - just like that.” His hips bucked, the tip of his dick hitting the back of your throat. Your jaw ached, your eyes welling with tears as you gave him a sloppy blowjob. You could tell he was about to cum, but Joe held back, pulling you off his cock. “As much as I wanna cum down your throat, I’d rather be inside you,” he grunted, helping you up.

You straddled him, sinking down onto him inch by inch at an agonizingly slow pace. He stretched you out in the best way, his girthy cock hitting differently than any man you’d had recently. You whimpered, burying your face in the crook of your neck when he was fully inside you. You started to ride him slowly until neither of you could handle it and Joe’s hands went to your hips so he could set the pace.

Joe slapped your ass, the pain mixing with the pleasure. He growled absolute filth in your ear, promising to make you cum so many times you forget your own name - among other things. Your orgasm built low in your belly at his words, your nails digging into his shoulders.

“Oh, God! Please! Jo-” You begged, his name cut off as your orgasm raced through you. You could feel Joe cum inside you moments later. You held each other as you came down from your highs, the humidity in the sauna making your sweat cling to your bodies. You were certain the sauna smelled like sex now, the thought making you horny all over again.

“When do you check out?” Joe asked, finding his voice a few minutes later.

“Tomorrow,” you replied, still on top of him. “Why?”

“My room number is 217. Come find me later tonight. I’m not done with you yet.”

Your body hummed in anticipation, coming alive again at the thought of meeting him in his hotel room that night. “Good, because I was just getting started.” Someone knocked on the door of the sauna, bringing the two of you out of your own little world. “That’s my cue,” you murmured, climbing off him.

You gave him one last look as you wrapped your towel around your body and opened the door, acutely aware of the fact that his cumd was dripping down your inner thigh as you walked back to your room.

[heartsywritesthethings]

Nosy Little Miya

Author: GA!babe

Fandom: Sk8 the Infinity

Summary: Miya likes to step away from the little skate fam in order to people watch and eavesdrop. Everyone’s favorite clown punk babysitter ain’t too happy and decides to mess with the kid a little. (Word Count: 1881 words)

~~~

One week before the sleepover

Knowing the gossip and secrets around S was kind of Miya’s whole thing. Before he had met Reki, Langa, Shadow, Cherry, and Joe, he had just slunk around the illegal skating area. Sure he would skate a few beefs every now and again, but it was much more interesting to learn about every little hidden detail about the skaters’ lives.

When people were around their friends, they tended to let their guards down. They would talk about their crushes, their work, their goals in life. Everything under the guise that they were just chatting to a friend. No one seemed to notice or care about a little kid with headphones innocently playing a game just a few feet away. 

Headphones were a great way to subtly eavesdrop on a conversation. After all, most of the time he didn’t even have sound playing through them. The amount of S gossip that he has heard is kind of ridiculous, and now, Miya made it a point to know everything about everyone at S. It didn’t matter how new or old they were, he made it his business to know. 

What did he do with all of this knowledge? Well, sometimes it was helpful during bets during beefs down the course. Sure, someone could look tough enough to beat a smaller skater, but no one else knew about a recently dead family pet that might affect the mentality of the projected winner. Miya knew. And he always won.

Tonight was a little different. Two relatively new skaters had begun to frequent S, so Miya needed to know as much as he could about them.

“And what are you going to do about it, little lee?” A skater purred to their partner one night, making the other turn a very bright shade of red.

“Sparky! There are people around.” The other skater whined. The first skater, Sparky, moved forward and squeezed the other’s side, making them jump. 

“What? Afraid people will notice me tickling you?” Sparky continued to tease while their partner turned this way and that, eyes darting around to see if anyone was eavesdropping. 

The only one within earshot was a small boy with bulky headphones on, and he looked pretty preoccupied with his game.

“Stop saying that word.” the partner whined, covering their face with their skateboard. Sparky chuckled and shook their head. 

“What word? Tickle? Tickle tickle tick-” Sparky teased before they saw someone walking their way. They hopped on their skateboard and waved for their partner to follow. 

Miya glanced up to see what had scared them off when he saw the familiar painted face of Shadow, one of the best skaters at S. 

“There ya are! We were lookin’ everywhere for ya!” Shadow announced as he made his way over. He noticed the two new skaters still lingering and made a scary face at them, causing them both to hop on their boards and skate away as fast as they could.

Shadow chuckled at himself before plopping down on the bench next to Miya. 

“Why’d you do that? I was watching them. They’re new.” Miya grumbled, turning his attention back to his game. Granted, this was just animal crossing and he could play this in his sleep, but he was pouting.

“What? Those two? They’re harmless! I think one of them just learned how to skate too. Why do you need to know everything about everyone anyways?” Shadow asked, leaning back and sighing dramatically.

“If you’re not gonna tell me why you’re here, then just go away so I can do my job,” Miya huffed.

“We were just wonderin’ where you went is all. One minute you’re making dumb jokes next to Reki and the next – poof! – you’re gone. Can’t have you wandering around on your own,” Shadow said and ruffled Miya’s hair. Miya snapped his head over as if he were a cat about to bite the hand of someone who had just gotten too close.

“I can take care of myself. I was hanging around here before you slimes decided to show up and bother me anyways.” Miya snapped. He saved his game and began to put it away in his bag.

“Yeah, okay, well, Cherry’s weird skateboard said something kinda concerning about the amount of kids going missing every year. I don’t wanna take any chances.” Shadow said, getting up as he noticed Miya was getting up as well. 

“That pink-haired slime can make his board say whatever he wants. Leave me alone, I’m working tonight and you stick out like a sore thumb,” Miya said, standing up and getting ready to leave —

When Shadow easily scooped him up and tossed him over his shoulder as if he were nothing more than a bag of flower seeds.

“Hey! What are you doing? Put me down! Help!” Miya screeched, kicking his legs and waving his arms around randomly. It wasn’t the most dignified way for him to fight back, but surely someone would notice a large scary man carting away a small wailing kid.

Pretty soon, people began looking over at them. Whispers and murmurs began amongst the skaters of people trying to decide whether or not to call the police.

“You are just a little troublemaker, aren’t you?” Shadow growled, taking Miya by the hood and holding him out at arm’s length so that they could glare at each other. Miya smirked before sticking out his tongue at the clown-looking skater.

“Alright, you’re asking for it.” Shadow said, a look of complete mischief on his own face. Miya didn’t have enough time to process before he was hugged close to Shadow’s chest. Before he had time to crack a joke or flail around, Shadow’s fingers began to wiggle against Miya’s sides. 

Miya squeaked and squirmed, only to find that he could barely move against Shadow’s broad chest. And those fingers just kept moving and wiggling on his sides and Miya couldn’t handle it anymore. 

Giggles began to pour out of his little mouth and all fight completely drained from his little body.

“Are you going to behave, Miya? You can become my little giggly accessory. Every clown needs a creepy laughing kid with them.” Shadow teased, trying to get a good look at Miya’s laughing face.

“Ihihihhihihi am nohohohot crehehehehehehepy!” Miya giggled, pressing his forehead against Shadow’s chest, trying to hide his smile from both Shadow and the people who were looking. 

“I couldn’t quite hear that,” Shadow teased, taking Miya by the hood and holding him out again. Miya kicked his feet out again, trying to get away from Shadow in any way he could now. One of his kicks gets dangerously close to Shadow’s family jewels.

“Woah! Alright, now you’re really in for it!” Shadow growled. He lets Miya drop to the ground for one second before pushing him down to the ground.

“No no no no no no!” Miya giggled, shaking his head as he looked at the evil clown faced tickle monster descending down on him.

“Oh yeah. I’ll make sure you’re too tired to make any more trouble for me tonight.” Shadow said, lifting Miya’s hoodie and undershirt, exposing his soft tummy to the cool night air.

“You crazy slime clown! Gehehet away from meHEHEHEHEHE!” Miya stammered before loud cackling laughter erupted from his little body. Shadow had blew a raspberry on Miya’s stomach and the ticklish vibrations had made the little cat boy feel such an intense wave of ticklish energy that he had never really felt before.

“Are you going to behave?” Shadow asked, his free hand poking and prodding around Miya’s stomach. 

People were looking at their antics, but neither Shadow nor Miya really cared at this point. No one was going to mess with Shadow and at this point…that poor little kid definitely looked like he was having fun.

“Miya?” Shadow asked, still smiling as he waited for a response from the giggling kid on the ground. 

“I…Ihihihi…” Miya giggled, not quite sure if he actually wanted this torment to end. He was actually…enjoying himself? Sure, it was a little embarrassing to be seen like this, he knew he could easily slide back into the shadows whenever he needed, so it wasn’t that big of a deal. 

“You waited too long!” Shadow said demonically before blowing another huge raspberry against Miya’s stomach. 

Miya, once again, cackled, his eyes squeezing shut as he was once again overwhelmed, but it was definitely welcome. So often, he knew that others thought that he didn’t want to be there. Honestly? They were kind of right. Only sometimes, he found skating fun. He kept skating and staying around S, of course, for those rare times when skating brought him that happiness he so often craved.

That was, before he met his ragtag group of skating friends. Some of them seemed as if they hated each other, but it was all in good fun. This? This tickling session? Definitely fun.

But now it was too much. A moment of panic struck through his little body as his brain announced “Okay, done here!”, but it went away as Shadow pulled away.

“Y'all watchin’ something funny? What the hell you lookin’ at? ROAHHHHHH!” Shadow yelled, sticking out his tongue and outright roaring at the other skaters watching. They quickly scattered, the sounds of wheels against pavement the only thing left as they were all too smart to stick around.

Miya got up, putting his little hoodie down over his stomach and popping his skateboard up, catching one side with a hand.

“Race you to the others?” Miya said, as if he hadn’t just been tickled to absolute pieces two minutes ago.

“You’re gonna lose, catboy.” Shadow said, jumping onto his board and kicking off.

“In your dreams, you slime,” Miya snickered and kicked off of the pavement and racing down the hill.

~~~

“Yeah, I’ll take him home.” Shadow said to Cherry. 

Miya was curled up against his board, snoring quietly. It was pretty late in the night and the crew was beginning to pack up and each head to their own houses.

“That’s weird. He’s never fallen asleep like this before.” Cherry hummed, looking at the kid up and down. 

“Does someone have a sharpie? A marker?” Reki asked excitedly, patting his own pockets down and smiling mischievously. 

“None of that, kid. He has school tomorrow.” Shadow said, nudging the redhead in the shoulder.

“Oh come on, it’ll be fun.” Reki whined. 

“Don’t you also have school tomorrow?” Shadow asked with a raised eyebrow.

“We do have that test tomorrow, Reki. Maybe you should get some sleep before–” Langa said, placing a hand on Reki’s shoulder.

“A what? A test?” Reki exclaimed. He hopped onto his board, looking completely panicked. “Alright, bye guys! Gotta go!”

And just like that, Reki sped away into the night. Langa was quick to follow, giving the others a quick two finger salute. 

“I can have Carla call a car for him if you don’t know the kid’s address.” Cherry offered, holding up his board. Shadow shook his head then easily scooped the sleeping boy into his arms.

“I’ve got this.” He said. “This nosy little kid ain’t the only one who knows things around here. ”

[peppermint2d]

F#$%ing uh, Calm after the Storm cuz the Storm Thing

It's 2D's birthday today, so enjoy another chapter!

Ch.1 in case you missed it

Chapter 2:

When you come to again, you see that the movie was indeed paused from what you last remember. Since he is in the basement, it was still dark inside 2D's room. You could see his sleeping form on his bed, lightly snoring with each inhale. It was still cold, but you promised to give the jacket back, so you gently lay it on top of him. You leave his room, hearing Noodle giggle far away.

There were no windows in the hallway, so you again relied on the walls for help and tried to follow the noises of Noodle in the kitchen. Climbing two flights of stairs in the dark is easier than it sounds, especially since as you reached the upper floor, the windows helped a little. It was still storming outside, but at least outside was brighter, even if by only a small amount.

As you walk into the kitchen, you hear the hiss of the stove releasing gas and see Noodle with a pack of matches. As she strikes one, you tackle her, and the air above you catches fire, burning your arm that you put up the shield both of you. "Ah fuck!" Tears well up in your eyes.

Noodle quickly squirms out from your grasp and puts a pan on the now lit stove. All that for breakfast? You check your arm and see a blister forming. There is no ice in the fridge since it all melted, so you wet a towel and hold it on the burn. Noodle shoos you away from the sink and fridge, removing butter, potatoes, and pancake mix from the cabinets. "Batā daijōbu? Bīgandesu ka?" She asked, holding up the butter.

"Sure, anything is fine."

She nods and quickly whips up breakfast for both of you and enough extras for the rest of the band. She sits on the island counter next to you. "Thank you for breakfast." You push the food around as you attempt to eat with one hand.

She hums questioningly and points to her left arm, your injured one.

You show her the burn. "It will heal, thanks for asking."

"What will heal?" Russel enters and starts getting his plate of food.

"My arm. Burnt it just now."

He sets a water kettle on the still-lit stove. "How bad?"

"Second degree, I think." You remove the towel to show him.

He grimaces. "Great way to wake up in the morning. Joe?"

"Who's Joe?"

Russel broke out into a sly grin. "Joe Mama. But a cup of joe, coffee?"

"BOO! Russel, boo. I can't believe I fell for that." You accept his consolation prize and he makes coffee for both of you. Noodle reaches for one, but Russel lightly smacks her hand away. "None 'til you're older."

Noodle lets out a quick string of angry Japanese.

"Say all you want but ain't getting none of this 'til you're at least 15."

"I can't believe she is so young. She's the one who made breakfast. Plus, she already is so talented with the guitar!"

"And vocals." As soon as Russel says that, he blushes. "Pretend I never said that."

"She does vocals on the new album? Come on, Russel! You can't just let that slip and not answer my questions!!"

"Can and will. Ey Noodle, Where's your napkin?"

Noodle paused in the middle of wiping her maple syrup on her sleeve. Russel sighed and got her a napkin. "You were saying about her maturity?"

You both share a laugh. "When do you think this storm will end?" You ask Russel.

"Dunno. It's always storming over Kong, at least."

"Do you like it here?"

"Don't hate it. I do enjoy makin music, but the whole kidnapped thing wasn't ideal." You both chuckled again.

"Yeah, I bet. I'm going to be having nightmares of Murdoc kidnapping me now."

"Murdoc doing anything is highly unlikely" Russel's deep laughter boomed throughout the room.

"Oi! I do stuff! I do lots of stuff." Murdoc wiggled his eyebrows. He takes the rest of the food.

"Hey! Leave some for 2D!" You protest.

"If the faceache wanted some, he should have woken up earlier." He sneered back, drenching his plate of pancakes in syrup and fried potatoes with ketchup. He poured the rest of the coffee for himself. There was too much for one cup, so he got out two mugs, filled both, and drank from both. What an asshole.

You looked at your own plate. You were too busy tending to your arm and talking to Russel to really eat anything, aside from a piece of potato. You were starving from not having any dinner. But you were the reason 2D stayed up and therefore didn't get up on time. You sighed and took your plate downstairs. "Thanks again for breakfast, Noodle!" You call behind you.

You set the food on the floor so you could knock on the door. Like a poor replay of last night, you had to knock again louder. Frustrated, you shout "2D!" You hear movement on the other side of the door and pick up the food.

"Ah!" A loud thump proceeds the opening of his door and you see him rubbing his chin as he opens it for you.

"You alright?"

"Yeah, I jus tripped. Can't really see well at night. Although I guess it mornin now innit?" He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and stepped out of the way for you to join him, relighting the candle from last night. "Oh! Yew brought me breakfast? I'm starvin. Wouldda fought that Murdoc ate it all before I got any."

"He kinda did" You admit sheepishly.

"But then how'd yew get dis?" He sat on his bright yellow chair and started to eat vigorously.

"A magician never reveals their secrets."

"YEW DO MAGIC?"

"No D, it's an idiom." He looked confused. "Like raining cats and dogs?"

He swallowed his bite before speaking: "That doesn seem safe."

As you're about to laugh, your stomach starts to growl, causing you to turn bright red.

2D frowns. "This was yours?" You nod. "Well, now yew gotta take some. Yew didn efen 'ave dinna!"

"Nah, 2D it's yours, come on you said you were starving!"

"Eh, don tell 'er I said so, but Noodle's cookin can be off. I don like fese potatoes anyway, would yew-"

"Yes." You sit on the ground by him and he hands you what's left of them. You both sit in companionable silence. Normally, you observe everything as information for your articles, but here, there is nothing to record. Eating is a very intimate act. It's private. It leaves you vulnerable. One does not eat comfortably with strangers. There is an inherent agreement made when eating, a promise of safety and companionship. You don't think 2D values this moment as much as you do, you were waxing poetic while he sticks his tongue out as he struggles to cut a part of his pancake. Even though his struggles may suggest otherwise, he is meticulous while eating, taking extra caution to not allow any syrup to drip while he eats.

"Yew still 'ungry?" He nodded towards your empty plate. "Cuz yew'fe been lookin at me eat, and there's plenty pancake left."

"No, uh, I'll live." You flush, you keep forgetting about his eyes.

"Good! Wouldn't want yew dyin." He grins, showing off his missing teeth. You look around his room while he finishes. It wasn't exactly a mess, but it was not orderly. Clothes littered the floor, but the room felt lived in and as homey as a basement could get.

"Do you like living in the basement?" You ask him as he collects the plates into a stack.

"Didn't 'ave much of a choice. Murdoc put me 'ere before Russ n Noodle showed up. Gets a bit drafty fough."

This would be nice for your article. "Was this even a room initially? Or did Murdoc just put up a wall?"

"I dunno. I fink 'e jus put somefin up since I can see ofer dis wall 'ere if I get up 'igh enough." He opens his door and takes the plates with him. "Can yew blow out the candle? I don wanna bring it upstairs since Murdoc would probably take it for 'imself. Yew can grab onto the back of me shirt if you need 'elp navigatin. Not that I can see where I'm goin eifer."

You do ask he asks and grab onto his yellow tee. "I would offa yew me 'and, but..."

"They're full. Don't worry, this is helping loads."

He just hums in response as he leads you up the stairs, through the carpark, and up more stairs to the kitchen. When you finally reach the kitchen, your hand still holding the warm material of 2D's shirt. Russel hears you two enter and looks above the book he was reading --Wuthering Heights-- to raise an eyebrow at your position which must have looked a lot more suggestive than it actually was. You were in the basement alone with 2D for an hour at least and as an investigative journalist, you could understand better than anyone why it looked suspicious. You deeply flush, feeling the heat reach the tips of your ears. 2D apparently did not catch Russel's expression, leading you to the sink, where he washed the plates while you still held onto him. You didn't need to, you could see just fine now.

Russel sniggered, "I guess your arm's feeling better now, huh?" His sly smile hinting that he thinks he knows, incorrectly as it may be, why you are suddenly so close to 2D.

"Your arm's 'urtin?! Why didn yew say anyfin last night?" 2D turns towards you frantically, grabbing the arm that was holding his shirt, turning it around, trying to find the injury.

"Last night? Damn." Russel is chuckling on the couch, shaking his head. "2D, you have been ploughing through too many girls recently."

This piqued your interest. A new development for your article.

"I'm- I'm- I'm strugglin Russ, yew know dis. Besides, we didn efen do anyfin! We jus watched Dawn of the Dead!" He shakes his head vigorously, waving his arms.

"It starts with Dawn of the Dead..."

"ANYWAY! 'ow did yew 'urt your arm?" 2D harshly changes the subject, Russel fully laughing at this point.

You barely manage to mumble: "Burnt it." Russel's teasing really embarrassed you.

"On the candle?" He still looked so concerned, as if he was the one to hurt you.

"This morning. Not your fault, D." He visibly relaxed at that.

"Plus, it's this arm." You held up your left arm, the angry, sickly yellow blister facing him.

"'ow could I 'ave missed this! Oi, love, why 'aven't yew bandaged this? Does it 'urt still? Did yew put ointment on it?"

"Yo, 2D, chill, let her breathe!" Russel shouted from across the room.

2D flinched in surprise. "Sorry."

You smile and giggle, their concern for you was so cute. "I'm fine. It hurts to move and if anything touches it, it's agony, but really no need to fret."

"We keep a first aid kit in the studio because of, uh, Murdoc. I can patch yew up." He takes your uninjured hand and leads you down to the ground floor and into a cluttered studio. You grimaced at the pelt on the floor.

2D noticed your refusal to step on it. "Yeah, 'm not a big fan of it meself." He digs through a discarded box. "'ere's the kit! Come 'ere, I'll make yew feel be'er."

He rifles through the extensive kit, packed with anything an EMT team may need, including a mini lamp, which he turns on. "Oh! 'ere it is! Alooe Veera soofin cream!" He terribly mispronounces the name. "'ere are some bandages too, I'll wrap yew up afta."

You sat by his side on the floor as he tenderly took your injured arm and inspected it. "I fink dis may scar."

"If it does, then I'll always have something to remember this by. Plus, Noodle would feel so guilty, I'd probably get tickets to all of your concerts." You joke, but 2D's concern didn't seem to waver.

He laid it on his lap while he put some cream on his fingers. "Dis may 'urt a wee bit." He started on the outside of your burn, gently rubbing in the cream, the soothing lotion and soft touches caused you to sigh and relax into 2D's shoulder. Again, he smelled of cigarettes and cedar and his vanilla-scented candle still lingered in his shirt. He was bony so that you could feel his shoulder blade and clavicle, but it was not uncomfortable in the slightest. You could feel his muscles move as he tended to you and if this continued any longer, you would have fallen asleep.

He brushes against the blister unexpectedly and you yelp, yanking back your arm. "I need you to stay still, love." You grumble and tuck your head back into his shoulder, relaxing into him again. He continues with the cream, taking extra care with the blister, pausing when you sharply inhale. "I'll bandage yew up right proper, I will." He whispers, mainly to himself.

As soon as the rough gauze touches your blister, you whimper. "Jus stay good for a few more minutes, yeah?"

"This is hurting more than the actual burn."

"Sorry, love. Uh, lemme know if dis is too tight or loose." He begins to wrap the bandage around your forearm.

"Tighter, please." He pauses and tries again.

"Tighter." He tugs on them even harder.

"Tighter."

"Tighter."

"Yew sure? I fink your fingers are turnin red." He was right, they were showing signs of lack of blood flow.

"Please, D? I don't want it to come undone and have to do this again."

He follows your wishes and finishes tieing it up with a bow. "There, all done! If it still 'urts bad, I could give yew some of me painkillers?"

"I could do with some ibuprofen maybe. What do you have?"

"Perscriptions. Nefer wifout em!" His smile didn't quite reach his eyes and you could tell that it was just a cover. You give him a sympathetic smile, you couldn't blame him for being addicted. His smile falls. "Yew won't put that in your article, will yew?"

"Of course not, D! Nothing without your permission gets published, I'll even send you my rough draft for you to OK." You stand up and reach out your good arm to help him up too.

He is lighter than you expected as you yank him up beside you. "Yew don 'ave to do that. I doubt I could efen understand what yew write."

"Oh please, you're very intelligent!"

"Not since I fell on me 'ead, I 'aven't been." He deeply sighs. Then, he shakes his head. "Well, dis is where the magic 'appens! I could give yew a tour?"

You follow his lead and decide to stop talking about his past, but that doesn't mean you have to stop wondering what made this ray of sunshine so sad. He takes you around the space, explaining what each machine does and how it was used on the EP, sometimes complaining how one of them didn't work properly or how it didn't make it into the final versions of the songs. When you reach the keyboards, he practically glows when talking about them, their names (yes, he named his keyboards), which sounds are unique to each, and which ones are the stubborn ones. "Dis one 'as a very stiff F4, could nefer play that note." He pulls down his favourite from the shelf and plays "The Entertainer" beautifully. It would have rude to not applaud.

"And that's the recording boof. I don quite like 'ow claustrophobic it makes me. The sound spikes are scary, too. No good memories in there." He takes the lamp with him as he walks to the door. He holds out his hand for you to take, even though you can see where you are going now. But who are you to say no?

You reach out to take his hand, his being quite a bit bigger than yours. He leads you out the door and through the winding hallways of Kong. Even with his lamp, the place still reminds you a bit of a maze. You hear Russel's deep timbre coming down the kitchen's stairs and you remembered your interaction with him earlier and wondered how it would have been if he'd seen how you still held 2D's hand. 2D led you back down the stairs, through the car park, and down the stairs again. with each step the two of you took down, the darker the space around you got. That was the cons of a basement, you supposed. Once you were both back in his room, he placed the lamp over on a desk.

"Okay, ibuprofen right? I fink I got somethin like tha."

He let go of your hand to open the drawer at his desk, revealing many, many, bottles of pills. You tried to pretend you weren't looking over his shoulder at them all, but you were pretty sure he knew you were. He didn't address it, instead pulling out a specific bottle and pushing the door shut. He held it up close in front of his face, and you watched as he squinted just slightly to read the label.

"'ere we go! Dis should work."

He popped the top of the bottle and dumped quite a large amount on his hand before holding it out to you. You stared for a moment at the pile of pills in his hand before reaching out and grabbing just 2. He blinked, and slowly put the rest of the pills back in the bottle, then dropped it back in the drawer.

"Thanks, 2D. This'll help loads." You smiled up at him. He just smiled back.

You took both pills, faced with the fact you had no water to swallow them down with. It wasn't the biggest deal, but you never were good at swallowing pills, so the bitter medicine dissolved slightly on your tongue before it was gone.

"Blegh." you stuck your tongue out and scrunched your face up, that bitter taste causing you to cringe. You heard 2D laugh at your reaction. "Hey! Rude." You said, but you were smiling too.

"Sorry," he laughed a little again, "Les go get you somfin to drink, yeah?"

"Um, yeah. please."

He starts to lead you back to the kitchen. Your whole time at Kong has been dealing with these blasted stairs. "What yew want to drink?" 2D asks as you reach the car park.

"Got any more soda from last night?"

"No, fresh out, Noodle finished it while yew were asleep."

"Juice?"

"Yeah! We may 'ave some Orange Juice left."

"If it was in the fridge it would have gone bad by now because of the power."

2D sighed. "Then all we gots is water and Murdoc's alcohol supply." You were about to go up the stairs to the kitchen and pause.

"You know any good cocktails, D?" You smiled slyly. Sure, it may only be after lunchtime, but with the clocks out, who really knows what time it is.

"I normally jus drink straight from the bottle." His smile returns your energy, so you turn around and start heading to the Winnebago.

The air starts to turn sour, and you could feel it sticking to your face. When you inhale, it burns your nose and stays in the back of your throat. The stench of death and rot. Of alcohol, sweat, weed, and sex. Of an overuse of Axe bodyspray. You didn't think you would see a grown man cry today, but as you two approached the Winnebago, 2D's eyes watered in a way that could only be described as a constant stream of tears.

"What happened here? Do you think Murdoc's okay?" As you open your mouth to speak, you could feel the stench seep in and can almost taste the putridness.

2D coughed "'e's probably more than okay." He knocked on the flimsy door.

The opening of the door unleashed a plume of stank upon you and 2D. You were expecting Murdoc to greet you, but your eyes lowered until they saw what you could only describe as a zombie in a maid outfit. That was definitely making the article. It gurgled and turned away. A second later, Murdoc appeared, topless. "Hey, Love! Finally come to your sense, eh?" He saw 2D and grumbled, "Ah, why'd you bring dents for eyes? I promised myself I wouldn't make that dream a reality. Besides, my bed's only got room for two." Murdoc leered at you, outlining your body with his eyes. 2D coughed and stood in front of you, causing Murdoc to lean back and cross his arms. "You're blocking her view of all this." He gestured to himself.

"Not to dis one, Murdoc. Not again. We're only 'ere for your booze." His hands balled into fists. You didn't need 2D to speak to Murdoc for you, but you sense something deeper going on here.

Murdoc turned for a sec and grabbed a bottle behind him. "Here you go, Face Ache. It's weak enough for you to stomach, lightweight. And if she," He points at you, "comes to me begging for a shag, later on, then we will both know that you're the issue."

2D takes the bottle and mumbles bastard under his breath. Murdoc leans against the doorframe and grins, cockily, watching you leave. The farther you get away from the Winnebago, the clearer the air looks. "Ah, I can feel my nose again! That stank, right D?"

"Yeah, wha'ever." He didn't look at you, his head tilted down so you guessed he was looking at the floor. He was hunched over and held the alcohol with white knuckles.

"You okay, 2D?" You put your hand on his shoulder.

He shrugged you off. "I jus wanna down dis bottle and forget everyfin 'til tomorrow at least."

You follow him silently back to his room, straying behind so that you were barely within the light from 2D's lamp. He disappeared through the door, leaving you in the dark as you fumbled down the last steps. You find him flopped face down onto the bed, his arms and legs splayed across the whole mattress. You gingerly pick up one of his legs and move it so you can sit on the bed beside him.

"You know I would never sleep with Murdoc, right?"

2D grumbled and opened the bottle, taking a huge swing, not fazed at all. He passed it over to you and you read the label. It was named Satan's Piss and had a cartoon devil on the front. Its main feature was its ABV of 50%, 10% more than vodka. You take a considerably smaller sip and cough, cringing at the strength, causing 2D to snort. At least one of you is getting something out of this.

"Wouldn't be the first time someone's left me for 'im." 2D pulled his limbs in a rolled over so that his stomach was touching your back, his legs close to your side. He leaned on one elbow, purposefully not looking at you. You turned slightly so you could watch him. "I don fink I could efer forgive Murdoc for what 'e did. I 'ad a bird and she and I were togefer efen before I lost me eyes, which I also 'ate Murdoc for, but that's a different story. Dis bird 'elped me frough me recovery and efen joined the band after I became the singer. The guitarist before Noodle." He paused and reached out for the bottle, which you handed to him. He took another huge drink and use wiping his mouth as an excuse to rub his eyes as well. "Well, anyway, Russ found 'er one day in the toilets wif Murdoc, givin 'im a blow job. 'e broke Murdoc's nose, that's why it looks so screwed up." He chuckled a little at that and took another drink. "After that, I tried to use other girls as a way of lessenin the pain. It's what Russel was talkin about in the kitchen. I actually 'ad plans wif a bird for this weekend, but well." He sheepishly looked up at you. "I 'ad dated Rachel Stevens for a bit, but Murdoc scared 'er off. Not the first time it's 'appened eifer. 'e's ruined everyfin for me recently." He ended his speech by finishing half of the bottle and handing it back to you.

"Oh, D. I'm so sorry. Paula, she didn't deserve you." You put your uninjured hand on his shoulder and he looked up at you. From the light of the lantern, you could see that his face was wet.

"She said it was me fault she got wif Murdoc. That she was tired of dealin wif me in me comatose state and that I was too fick efen after I came too. And I know I should blame 'er, but I just can't bring meself to 'ating 'er. I loved 'er, you know? Loved 'er proper." As he was speaking, staring at his hands, you drank some of the alcohol, it really starting to affect you.

Your hand started to move up from his shoulder to his hair, slowly running your fingers through the blue. It looked so pointy, you expected it to be brittle with hair gel or something, but his hair was so smooth and soft, albeit a bit messy. When you touched it, he flinched, but as you continued to brush your hand through, he relaxed and moved into the touch. You didn't stop combing through his hair, loving the way the blue fluff would part on your behalf. As you pet his hair, you could feel him begin to cry, his face in his hands, his shoulders heaving, his breathing unsteady. You heard sniffles and choked whimpers, so you made an effort to prevent any stray hairs from falling onto his face, lest it gets wet. You tasted alcohol as you drank some more to distract you from crying too: 2D didn't need that right now. All you saw was a defeated, broken boy who needed so much more love than anyone could give him.

You put the bottle on the floor and lifted 2D by his shoulders with your good arm, pulling him up into a sitting position with you. He didn't complain, only removed his hands from his black eyes, revealing them to be overflowing with tears and had a vague look of confusion. Then you hugged him, pulling his body close, feeling the heat of him through his clothes, hurting when his ribs would expand only to push out the air as a muffled cry. As if you two had done this a thousand times before, he tucked his head into your neck and it fits perfectly. His hair tickled your face and you continued to run your fingers through it. "It's alright. I'm here. I won't let you go." You whispered repeatedly while your friend conveyed every once of his devastation in tears.

After he calmed a little, he lifted his face from your neck. You could feel how wet it was from his tears and snot, but you didn't really mind. You stopped touching his hair, instead you cupped his cheek with your hand, brushing away stray tears with your thumb.

"S-sorry," He hiccuped, "for crying on yew." He looked up at you, his empty eyes rimmed red and you lost some part of yourself to him then.

You continued to stroke his cheek. "Sh, don't apologize, you're perfect."

His arm that used to lay limply over your shoulder while you were comforting him moved slowly, until it rested at the nape of your neck, tangling itself into your hair. He searched your face for any signs of opposition, but upon receiving none, he pulled your lips to his.

You have never had a worse headache or case of cottonmouth. Luckily it was still night, the noises of nocturnal life just outside, so you didn't have to bother with bright lights. You started to stir, but couldn't move half of your body. Looking over, you saw that 2D had wrapped his arms around your unburnt arm and that one of his long legs hooked around you, essentially trapping you. Had you fallen asleep like this? "Please be wearing clothes, please," You whisper. You saw that you were both fully clothed and let out a sigh of relief. You couldn't remember for the life of you what may have caused this. The last thing you could recall was Paula, the bitch.

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

Callbacks & Cannoli Cake

Requested by: The wonderful Wignony! (“If I haven't missed the cut off, could I request an imagine with Joe and reader? Something sickeningly sweet and romantic, maybe along the lines of a proposal/ wedding day/ honeymoon?”)

Summary: Joe got good news at work, but tonight you’ll have something even better to celebrate. 

Warnings: Language, literal sugary sweetness, a tiny bit of angst (I’m sorry, you know me, I couldn’t help it! 😂).

Word Count: 1.5k.

You’re reading the text for the fifth time when he walks through the front door. I GOT THE PART!!! See yo fine ass at 6:15 ;)

“Hey, firefly!” Joe calls brightly, racing into the kitchen and linking his arms around your waist from behind, kissing the back of your neck with loud, comedic smacks as you giggle and try not to massacre the icing you’ve been painstakingly smoothing with a spatula. He’s called you that since your first date, a picnic in Grand Hope Park that was supposed to just be lunch and turned into drinks, tapas, dinner, and ice cream for dessert as fireflies crept out of their shelters and freckled the sky with their harmless, inborn lightning.

“Joe, babe, stop, please stop, I’m going to ruin the cake—”

Joe gasps, spying it for the first time. “A cannoli cake? You made me a cannoli cake?!”

You lift up the heavy glass cake plate and gingerly show him, wearing a sheepish smile. “I thought we should celebrate. There’s lasagna in the oven, it’ll be done in twenty minutes.”

“So we get to eat the cake first.”

You laugh, ferrying the cannoli cake to the kitchen table as Joe picks up the spatula and licks it like a lollipop, moaning orgasmicly, mascarpone frosting peppered with miniature chocolate chips dotting his nose and chin. “Tonight, Mr. Mazzello, you get everything you want.”

Today was his third callback for the part, a co-starring role of the protagonist’s best friend in a romantic comedy directed by Richard Curtis. And while you are firmly of the belief that Joe is more than worthy of lead roles—especially in romantic comedies, a genre in which he has been criminally underutilized—you know he’s thrilled to have landed it. Rebel Wilson, Colin Firth, and Zendaya are involved in the project as well, and filming will take place mostly in the gorgeous island paradise of Turks and Caicos. Which means that Joe will soon be jetting off to the Caribbean for months on end, leaving you here in Los Angeles to tend your bakery and catch up on your reading list and snuggle with the cats and try not to grow bitter about the fact that most people don’t have to give up their significant others for vast, volatile stretches of the year, most people don’t constantly feel like they’re battling to keep a surfboard level over waves of impermanence. And that’s what you’re really trying to do tonight: not just celebrate Joe’s accomplishments, not just make him happy, but to make sure he doesn’t notice the sadness around your eyes, the mournful slump in the set of your shoulders.

But as he sits down at the table and cuts two messy, hulking slices of cannoli cake and gives you the bigger one, Joe does notice something. His dark eyes catch on you and narrow. His brow furrows in concern. “What’s up, firefly?”

“Nothing,” you reply, slipping into the chair beside him, running your fingers through his hair and forcing a smile. “I’m so proud of you, Joe. And I know you’ll love it. I just...you know.” You take an unenthusiastic bite of cake and shrug, apologetic, feeling childish and selfish and ridiculous. “I’ll miss you.”

“Aww, I know, firefly. I’ll miss you too. But we’ll talk all the time, we’ll text and call and I’ll comment heart-eyes emojis on all your Instagram posts, and you can take a few long weekends to come visit me...and we can FaceTime so I can say hi to the cats and our beloved apartment!”

“Our apartment,” you murmur; because it doesn’t feel much like both of yours. You’ve only shared it for three months, and Joe has easily been out of town for two of them. And although you have no right at all to be disenchanted with an arrangement that you knowingly signed up for, you can’t help but fear that it all has an inescapable aura of transience, that one day Joe won’t come back home at all, and that the apartment won’t even feel that different without him in it; like he’s a comet that comes with the decades, a passing marvel that you can see but never own.

Joe reaches out and takes your free hand, the one not holding your fork. “Hey,” he says softly. “I know. Believe me, I know.”

“I’m not mad, I’m really not, I want you to have this. I know it’s what brings you happiness, I know it’s what you’re brilliant at, I just...I guess I just wish this all felt a little more permanent.”

That seems to surprise him. “What, like, you and me being permanent?”

“Yeah.” You take another bite of cannoli cake. It’s good. It’s really freaking good, actually. Joe’s massive slice is gone already; he cuts another, peering uncertainly over at you. He still doesn’t appear to get it. “What I mean is that I feel like you’re never here long enough for the apartment to start feeling like ours. You’re more like a guest. Petunia and Iris might think you’re just my hot friend who occasionally sleeps over and takes bubble baths with me.”

“I don’t think cats have a particularly deep understanding of commitment anyway.”

You laugh, mostly to break the gravity. This is the precise opposite of how you wanted this night to go. “Never mind, I’m being dumb. Forget it.” You smile again, as convincingly as you can. The scent of lasagna now fills the small kitchen; the orange-pink light of the sunset pours in through the open windows. “Enjoy Turks and Caicos. Make a hilarious movie. Slurp down your weight in daiquiris served in coconut shells. And try not to get too sunburned, I want to be able to touch you when I fly down to visit. We don’t need a repeat of Miami, lobster boy.”  

Joe sets down his fork, crosses his arms over his chest, and grins at you thoughtfully, craftily.

“Uh oh. What?”

“Well, you see, it’s interesting that you brought up this whole permanence thing.”

You shake your head. “Joe, really, I don’t want to make tonight about me. I just want to celebrate. Can we do that?”

“Oh, we’re still celebrating, firefly. But I have one more thing to tell you about.”

“It better not be another cat. That’s really not the solution to this problem. Is it another cat? Jesus christ, if your mother is trying to get us to adopt another one of her rescue cats, I’m going to fucking scream—”

“It’s not a cat.”

“Then what is it?”

“Well,” Joe begins, grinning broadly now. “I guess it’s less of something I have to tell you and more of something I have to ask you.”

“...Ask me...what...?”

His hand slides into the pocket of his Hawaiian cargo shorts—not his best look, if you’re being totally honest about it—where for the first time you notice the faint outline of a tiny square. He takes out the ring box and sets it down between you on the table. Your fork tumbles out of your grasp and hits the floor, splattering frosting and cake crumbs. An ecstatic gasp rips from between your teeth. Your hands fly up to cover your mouth.

“No way...”

“Yes way.” Joe gestures to the box. “I don’t know what continent I’m going to be on six months from now. I don’t know how often I’ll find myself home in our apartment. I don’t know how great of a cat dad I am. But I know that I want you with me every step of the way. So, if you’re down to make this thing permanent, and to bake me cannoli cakes for the remainder of my earthly existence, I’d like for you to marry me. I’d love for you to marry me, actually. And if you need some time to think it over before giving me an answer, I completely understand—”

You rush out of your chair and into his shocked but welcoming arms, almost knocking him out of his seat as you climb into his lap, laughing, crying, kissing him as tears stream down your cheeks. “I don’t need time. I’m saying yes. Right here, right now, Mr. Mazzello.”

“You don’t even want to see the ring first?” he teases.  

“Nope. I’m in no matter what it looks like. I swear on our neglected feline daughters’ lives.”

“Oh thank god, because my bank account is super sparse until this new gig starts paying and it’s a literal Ring Pop.”

Joe’s joking, of course; he’s joking almost all the time, which is one of the innumerable things you love about him. But you really don’t care what the ring looks like. You care about what it means, about the promise it holds, about the peace it gives you to carry around like armor against all the uncertainties of the world.

And Joe whispers, beaming: “Now, future Mrs. Mazzello, I really do have everything I want.”

[fangirlshrewt97]

Epiphanies and a Roof Over Their Heads

Fandom: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)

Pairing: Nile Freeman & Nicolo di Genova

Read on AO3

                                                           ///

Nicky hummed as he sipped his hot chocolate, the warmth seeping into his bones, making him melt further into the armchair. A crash of thunder startled him upright, eyes blinking at the subsequent flash of lightning. Sighing, Nicky shifted until he was once again comfortably reclining in the arm chair, one foot on the broad window sill. Closing his eyes again, Nicky allowed his other senses to take over. The taste of warm chocolate still stinging his tongue, the faint strums of music from the spare bedroom Nile had converted into a temporary studio, the plushness of the armchair molding to his body. The nearly overwhelming scent of petrichor and wet trees wafting in from the open window.

They had arrived at the safehouse in Indonesia a few days before, and were waiting for the rest of the team to join them. Andy and Quynh had said they would stop by Vietnam, so it would likely be a week before they showed up. Joe and Booker had said they were en route and would try to be there in a couple days. Given that it was monsoon season, and a cyclone had been spotted, Nicky thought they would probably arrive with Andy and Quynh.

Lifting his other leg to cross his ankles on the window sill, Nicky sipped away at the drink in his hand, just enjoying the rain pouring outside their house, enveloping them in this phantom bubble of isolation from the rest of the world. He had always found peace in the rain, felt like the water washed away all the troubles of the world, at least temporarily. If, of course, they were not forced to trek through treacherous jungles or muddy hills during the downpour.

After some time he heard the faint music cut off, a door opening softly. He took another sip of drink. He tilted his head in Nile’s direction when she finally peaked over the head of the large chair, smiling softly at her sheepish expression.

“Sorry,” she said, “I wasn’t sure if you had fallen asleep.”

“It’s ok sorellina. I was not sleeping.”

Nile came around the armchair, an eyebrow raised as she saw him sprawled comfortably in his perch. “So, what are you doing?”

“Watching the rain.” Nicky replied, one corner of his lips raising in a faint smirk, as Nile let out annoyed groan.

“I thought we said no more dad jokes Nicky!” Nile said petulantly.

Nicky chuckled. “Si, Si, sorry. Would you like some hot chocolate?”

At that Nile brightened. “Yes!”

“There is some in the kitchen, pour yourself some and come join me.” Nicky said, gesturing in the direction of the other armchair.

Nile nodded before disappearing from sight.

Nicky took another sip of the hot chocolate, letting it rest on his tongue for a moment, until the sweetness became too much, and swallowed. Nile was humming happily as she made her way over to him, one hand clutching a mug, the other maneuvering the armchair beside Nicky’s. Nicky placed his mug on the windowsill before helping Nile with the chair. Once she was comfortably settled, he retook his position. Nile opted to curl up in her chair, letting out a small groan of satisfaction as she first tasted the chocolate.

“Swear to god Nicky, I have no idea how you do it, but you make the best stuff.” Nile said, voice slightly fair away.

Nicky beamed at her, a different warmth blossoming in his chest as his dear friend enjoyed one of his creations. “Grazie Nile, we got lucky I still had some of the chocolate I had bought in Belgium. I was planning on making hot chocolate for all of us, but then the call came in.”

“And it’s difficult to make hot chocolate when you are sneaking around the warehouse district of Nice?” Nile asked wryly.

Nicky winked at her, making her snort. Nile leaned her head against the side of the armchair. “You know, I think out of all the different weathers, rain is the strangest to me?”

Nicky tilted his head. “What do you mean?”

“We have all kinds of weather in Chicago, but we don’t get that much rain. And then Afghanistan, I mean. It’s Afghanistan, I got used to the heat. But rain like this?” Nile gestured at the window, where the rain was still falling in such strength they could barely see their compound’s wall. “I’ve never really seen it before.”

Nicky made a noise of agreement. “Genoa got a lot of rain. I always liked the rainy days best.”

“Yeah?” Nile asked, that curious wonder still in her voice. She still relished any opportunity to hear about their early years. None of the team had a problem indulging her.

“Si. I always found it very peaceful.”

As if to contradict him, a flash of lightning whited out the world before a rumble of thunder roared overhead.

“Yes, very peaceful.” Nile mumbled into her cup.

“Of course that rain was not quite like this. We had our bad storms, I remember the fishermen were always tense when they expected bad weather.  But for me rain offered me a kind of escape.”

“Escape how?”

Nicky shrugged, taking another sip as he sorted out the words in his head. “Escape like freedom. Like there was no one else except me when it was raining. Rain meant mud and extra chores, laundry that took twice as long to dry. But it also left the earth smelling of life, the flowers seemed to blossom brighter in the aftermath.”

“I can see that.” Nile said after a minute. “So. Did you ever have a epic romantic kiss in the rain?”

Nicky choked slightly on his drink as Nile giggled next to him. “Epic kiss?”

“Yeah, you know how in the movies, one of the romantic scenes is if the two people find each other after having had a fight or something, and then share this huge  kiss while like the music swells around them?”

Nicky chuckled as he shook his head. “I can’t recall anything quite like that.”

Nile pouted at him, making him snort.

“There was one instance though…” he trailed, enjoying how Nile scooted forward in her chair. Nicky closed his eyes, trying to bring the memory to the forefront.

“I must have been around 100, 110? Joe and I had only recently met up with Andy and Quynh, and had been travelling through Europe when Quynh said she wanted to introduce us to her homeland. So, we headed towards Vietnam. It was my first time so far East, and the sights felt like a different world. I had read and heard the stories from the three of them, but nothing quite compares to seeing the lands in person. We got stuck near Bangladesh? Or maybe Assam?

Anyways, we had to stop because the monsoon season hit, and both Andy and Quynh insisted the trip would be more enjoyable when we weren’t soaked to the bone. We found an abandoned house to camp out in for the season, and went about getting it ready. But still, nothing could have prepared me for the ways the skies opened, the way all the water in heaven seemed to fall out at once.”

“Must have been quite the sight.” Nile said softly.

Nicky nodded. “I don’t have the words to describe it. I used to stand by the door for a long time, just watching how the rain seemed to literally fall to the earth, crashing against the soft ground. Finally, maybe three or four days later? I decided I wanted to feel the rain.”

“Feel? Like walk in the rain?”

Nicky nodded once. “I had done it sometimes in Genoa, when I was a little boy. Stood alone in the rain, felt the water wash over me. It left me clean, like it didn’t just wash over my body, but my soul itself. I hadn’t done it in years, but the urge was so strong. When I saw the clouds darken, I stepped out of the house, walking just a few feet away.”

Nicky opened his eyes, training them on Nile, who was staring at him with an intense focus. She made a noise, encouraging him to continue.

“Standing under that monsoon rain. If the Genoan rain seemed to wash my soul, this one seemed to remake me. Each drop hurt as it fell on me, but it felt…like a benediction. I had caused so much death I could still see the blood on my hands. I had finally accepted I loved Joe, and was beginning to accept he mattered more to me than my faith’s claim that loving him was signing my soul for an eternity of damnation. But standing in that rain. None of that mattered. The world didn’t matter. I didn’t matter. And it was ok.

I’m not sure how long I was there, I had fallen to me knees at some point. I was brought back to myself when Joe touched me though. He was shouting something, I couldn’t hear what, but I remember the look in his eyes. I think he thought I had finally lost my mind. I just started laughing, harder than I ever had. It didn’t help ease his concern, but the rain, it had washed me of all the guilt I had been carrying. I pulled him down with me and kissed him. It felt like I was doing it in front of God. It felt like He was telling me it was ok. That I was allowed to live, allowed to love this perfect man I did not feel I deserved but would fight the world to keep by my side.”

The only noise in the room for some minutes after Nicky finished his story was the drumming of the rain.

“Wow.” Nile said finally.

Nicky huffed. “Does that qualify?”

Nile nodded, laughing brightly. “Definitely. Although, for most of the characters the epiphany comes before or after the kiss, not during.”

Nicky shrugged. “Maybe that’s because you can’t see the character’s thoughts as they are kissing.”

Nile nodded her head. “Fair enough.”

Nicky tilted his empty mug towards her. “Care for a refill?”

Nile nodded, getting up and taking his mug. “I’ll fill yours, you look far to cozy to disturb.”

Nicky grinned. “Thank you Nile.”

Nile returned with two full mugs. Nicky grabbed his own, only to pause when Nile held out her own. “To epiphanies in the rain.”

Nicky laughed. “And what epiphany have you had?”

“That I do not want to be a poor sap who has to walk in these conditions. Ever.” Nile said firmly, bobbing her head.

Nicky laughed harder, his mug shaking slightly. “To epiphanies and a roof over our head.”

Nile beamed. “To epiphanies and a roof over our head.”

After they toasted their mugs, they each took a long drink, letting out identical sighs of satisfaction. Giggling, Nile waved her mug. “Thanks for the story Nicky, between that, my art, and this wonderful hot chocolate, I am ready for a nap, and Mother Nature has a great soundtrack on. I’ll see you in a bit.”

“Sogno di oro, habibti.” Nicky told her as Nile walked away.

Once she was out of sight, Nicky lifted both his feet onto the windowsill, and leaned back on the armchair. Setting the empty mug on the floor, he carefully spread the blanket he had curled beneath his back over his legs. A nap sounded quite nice indeed. And if he could not fall asleep next to Joe, at least he would fall asleep to the sound of rain.

[heymacy]

Macy Macy Macy, it is I, the one and only Howl at your service to bring you your Howl’s Question Friday questions!! @howlinchickhowl Please don’t look behind the curtai— stop what are you doing!!! Ok it’s Stas don’t expose me!!! Go back to the other side of the curtain!!

Happy Spooky Season!! 🎃👻🍂🧛 Do you have a favorite Halloween costume you’ve ever done? Have you and your wife ever done a couples costume? Do you plan on dressing up as anything this year? (shut up this is totally one question idk what you’re talking about)

When you worked at Starbucks, were there any drinks people would order that you hated? In other words, what are your Starbucks pet peeves from the perspective of a barista? (i.e. “Hi can I please get a latte with no foam?”)

If you could choose one song to play for every person in the world simultaneously like you had the AUX cord for the globe, what song would you play for us? 🌍 (Let’s pretend people have the option to mute it if it’s lyrically or sonically upsetting to them, so don’t stress that part.)

oh hello howl!! (*quietly* hello stas!) 👋🏼

first off, i love that it's becoming a thing now to refer to me as "macy, macy, macy" because in my head i hear 50% scolding and 50% proud-friend, so it's quite the experience for me. y'know, emotionally speaking 😌

1. happy fucking spooky season oh my god!! i've been waiting for this since our first 90 degree day back in...april? i literally live in hell. to answer your question(s): yes, i do! a few years ago, after like 15+ years of talking about doing it but never following through, my family dressed up as the cast of Hocus Pocus. my two sisters and i were the Sanderson sisters (people have always likened us to them during this time of the year, especially me as Winifred lmao), my brother was Billy, my parents were Billy and Thackery's headstones (their costumes needed to be minimal so they could efficiently play host and hostess at our halloween party lmao) and i made a cardboard replica of Winifred's book and made my wife wear it (our reasoning being that Winifred's one true love is her spell book). i even did SFX makeup on their face to match the costume, which they weren't too pleased with. that was my favorite costume of my own and of us as a couple. this year we're dressing up as Michael and Janet from The Good Place because after 8 years of incessant pleading, i've finally broken them, and now they actually enjoy halloween.

2. oh my god okay i might be going back to starbucks soon, i'm just waiting on a phone call to confirm it. but regardless, i could talk about this for literal years. don't get me wrong i actually genuinely love working at starbucks, because people who work at starbucks are literally amazing (i met like 80% of my current friends there). but the customers....the customers!!! the worst in the fucking world, and i've worked in every type of service job imaginable.

here are the dumbest fucking things you could possibly order/do at starbucks:

no foam/light foam cappuccino. a cappuccino is BY DEFINITION primarily foam. a light foam cappuccino is a latte. a no foam cappuccino is a no foam latte you fucking imbeciles. if you don't know what it is don't fucking order it goddammit and don't try to fight me on it either

anyone who blends the dried fruit into their drinks - i hope you choke on a nickel 😌

"absolutely no foam like literally not a drop of foam, i want straight up hot milk over liquified beans because i've never been told no in my entire life" get fucked get fucked get fucked

[car full of teenagers/college kids pulls up to the DT window] "hi! *giggles* oh my god shut up guys i'm trying to order! [laughter] hi! uh, i was -- SHUT UP! -- i was wondering if i could get -- SHH! [laughter] -- if i could get uh, four venti caramel ribbon crunch frapuccinos with extra, extra caramel?" i will curse your fucking bloodline not only are you wasting my fucking time FOUR FRAPUCCINOS? AND THE MOST COMPLICATED ONES? AND EXTRA //EXTRA// CARAMEL? please do not reproduce 😌

extra caramel is fine. extra extra caramel, alright i like you a little bit less. "caramel walls" i will stab you 🔪

if you ask for a pour-over during rush, choke. if you ask for a pour-over during rush of a type of coffee we already have brewed in the urns and ready to go because you "like a stronger brew", die.

also please note: none of the pet peeves apply if you're nice. if you're really, really nice, if we like you, it doesn't matter. if you're needy and picky, acknowledge it. make fun of yourself for it. apologize every time. we may not love you, but if you're nice to us, we'll like you. and we don't fuck with people we like, so, it's in everyone's best interests lmao (except the last one - go straight to hell you sick fuck)

oh one more thing THE SECRET MENU DOES NOT EXIST!!! IT DOES NOT EXIST!!! IT’S ALL MADE UP!!! I DON’T KNOW WHAT THE FUCK YOU’RE TALKING ABOUT WHEN YOU ASK FOR AN “ARIANA GRANDE FRAPPUCCINO” I LITERALLY HATE YOU

alright now on to the angelic, godlike behaviors:

if you order an iced chai tea latte at any point in time but especially during a rush, i will kiss you on the mouth. (with consent, of course, and proof of vaccination. this is a plague after all)

if you leave a tip, even if you just toss your change in the tip jar, i will hug the fuck out of you. tips aren't great at most stores, but sometimes the $27 i got in tips for the week was what fed me, so it makes a difference

black coffee drinkers 😍 or coffee drinkers who put their own cream & sugar in their coffee at the condiment bar 😍 but especially, especially coffee drinkers who put their own cream & sugar in their coffee at the condiment bar and clean up after themselves, oh my god. angels. heaven-sent. i worship you.

if you say something like "hi! how are you?" or "what's up?" or "good morning!" when you order instead of just walking up and being like "can i get _____" i will fall in love with you.

3. Cotton Eye Joe, because i'm a slut for chaos.

this was fun, and it’s very on brand of me to get angry & emotional and not know when to shut up, hmm? howl & stas my beloveds i hope you’re both having amazing days 🥺🥰💛

[thiswasinevitableid]

64. I didn’t know my ex moved so you find me curled up on the floor in front of your apartment door

Ot4, nsfw, please!

Here you go!

Duck didn’t mean to fall asleep in front of her cave. But there was no one home and the rock in front of it is just the right temperature to coax him down into a nap in the spring sunshine.

“Um, can I help you?”

His nose tells him the voice belongs to another dragonborn before he opens his eyes. It’s just not the one he’s hoping for. Instead of blue scales and muscle, he finds blue eyes staring down at him while black and white scales glint in the afternoon light.

“Uh, I, uh, do you know the dragon who lives here?” He didn’t think she’d move on that fast.

“I am the dragon who lives here.” The other male adjusts the satchels on his shoulders, one laden with food and the other with books, “I moved in a week ago.”

“Well...fuck.” Duck slides off the rock with a groan, “sorry, didn’t know the place changed hands. Didn’t mean to, uh, crash on your front porch.”

“It’s okay. I was hoping to meet more of our kind here.” He writes a glyph on the door and it opens, “do you want to come in? I got some nice wine from town and, um” he scratches at the stone, “no one to share it with.”

“Sure.” Duck follows him through the familiar front hall and into the kitchen. The furniture is different, all clean lines and polished wood, and there’s new art on the walls. He reads the spines on the stack of history books on the table while his host pours them each a glass of wine.

“Thanks” he takes the goblet, “I’m uh, I’m Duck by the way. It’s a nickname.”

“Joseph.” The other dragon sits across from him, “I take your...ex lived here?”

“Yeah” Duck scratches the back of his neck, “we end things a month ago but, uh, I was missin her and I, uh, I, I, fuck, nevermind.”

Joseph sniffs the air, “surprise heat?”

Duck nods, “I was kinda hopin for, uh, for a pity fuck or somethin. Fuck, that sounds pathetic.” He rests his head in his hands.

“There’s no shame in wanting intimacy.”

“Guess not. Uh, enough about me, how’d you end up here?” He prays Joseph takes the hint.

“I travel around studying humans, trying to bring a greater understanding of them to our kind. My hope is it’ll help keep the peace, since we’re less likely to fear or attack things we understand. Kepler might be the place I settle; the town is a great mixture of dragon and human cultures.”

“So you just...study everythin they do?”

“Right now I’m focusing on technology. Hence the, um, the scars.”

“Oh shit” the white zigzags and bursts that Duck assumed were simply markings are, in fact, scars, “what happened?”

“Mostly minor accidents, like you’d get cooking or gardening. This one” he gestures to the white on his cheek, “is embarrassing; I was so engrossed in my research I didn’t notice the experiment I was running was about to go haywire.”

“Ouch.” He hazards a joke, “hate to see what your hoard is like, probably, uh, shock me.”

Joseph smiles, “I don’t really have one, it’s a pain to move it every time.”

“Not even a little pile?” Duck raises a brow; there’s a magpie-ish quality to the other dragon that suggests there’s a collection hiding somewhere.

A faint dusting of gold on his cheeks, “I do have a, um, a small stack of books.”

“Can I see?”

“Of course. This way.” He leads them to the master bedroom. A wave of unwelcome nostalgia hits Duck as he enters, and he’s about to excuse himself back to the kitchen when a giggle climbs up his throat.

“A small stack, huh?”

Joseph settles on the cushions at the center of three towering bookcases, each crammed full, “I don’t have that many. I once met a wyvern who had whole hills of books. I like them like this so I can actually find things.”

“Hate to say it Joe, but this is an honest to gods hoard.” Duck kneels near him.

“Joe....huh, I like it when you call me that. Normally I hate it. And it’s a library, not a hoard.”

“If you say so. Uh huh, what’s this?” He crawls to where a pile of puzzles toys and games is hidden between the bookcases, “seems like the makings of another ho--oh hell yeah” he grabs a box, “Minotaurs Riddle, I fuckin love this game. Haven’t played it in years, lent mine to a trio of centaurs and never got it back.”

“Do you want to play a few rounds? I, um, I don’t have anything urgent tonight but if you have things to do-”

“Nah, got all my shit taken care of early in case...uh, well, you know.” Humiliation at his earlier desperation rears its head.

Joseph drags a low table over, “Then it sounds like we could both use a night off.”

Three hours and two bottles of wine later, they locked in a stalemate, Duck scanning his cards for a way to break it. He’s never had this intense an opponent before and it’s so fucking fun.

“I play the hero's spear BUT” he flips a card facedown, “on my own chariot, which opens up the way for my chimera to attack.”

Joe’s eyes flick between his hand and the board, pupils no more than slits as he concentrates. Then he sets his cards all facedown, “I don’t have a counter-move, so you win.” His grin is fairytale perfect, “that was great! And now I know your method of play so I can beat you next time.”

“You wish.” Duck doesn’t mean to growl as deeply as he does.

“It’s not a wish, it’s a promise.” Joe boxes up the game without ever taking his eyes off Duck.

“If you say so. But if you break it” he curls his tail around to stroke black scales, “think I oughta get a prize.”

Joe’s responding click-growl is unfamiliar, could be anything from agreement to “leave me the fuck alone.” He starts to retract his tail only for Joe to close his claws around it.

“I think you should get one for your win tonight, too. You did come here in a, um, a certain state.”

“Ain’t you the polite one.” Duck shoves the table aside and prowls across the pillows, “offerin that stylish tail up for meWHOAH, fuck.” He laughs as Joe, lightning quick, lunges forward and traps him on his back.

“Sorry, I’ve been wanting to get my hands on you since you got here. Gods” he undoes the wrap at Duck’s waist with a hungry growl, “do you have any idea how hard it is to think strategically with all of this” he runs his palms up Duck’s chest, “on display. Once I’m done give your body the attention it deserves, then I’ll put my ass in the air for you.”

“You drive a hard bargain Joe, but I’ll take it.” He grins as the other dragon gropes his thighs.

“Good. Besides, this is a proven way of getting over heartbreak.”

“Think that theory might need a little more testin. So get down here and kiss me.”

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

“Interesting.” Joe taps the bottle with a claw as he studies the ship inside it, “you really don’t know how they do it?”

“No fuckin clue. I can build model ships outside bottles, but this? This is wild to me.”

“I wonder if we-” Joe raises his head, inhales, and breaks into a dazzling smile, “dinner’s here! You can come in Barclay, we’re in the sunroom.”

Footsteps on stone announce the cook, who Duck usually sees at Amnesty Lodge down in Kepler.

“Didn’t know y’all did delivery.”

Barclay sets a bag crammed with tins and bottles onto the table, “We don’t usually, but Joseph’s a special case.”

Duck spots the blush on his friend’s cheek, “Oh yeah?”

“He, uh, he lets me test new recipes on him?” Two pink patches bloom under Barclays' beard, “there’s a berry custard tart in there today.”

“Sounds wonderful.” Joe’s tail is subtly twitching, “do you want to stay a bit and eat?”

“I’d love to, but I gotta get back before the dinner rush.”

“Right, right, of course, oh, right, your tip” the dragon darts into his study, returns a moment later with a small purse of coins, “here you go, thank you so much it, I’ll be ready for our cooking lesson on Tuesday and, um, it’s always nice to see you.”

Barclay pockets the money, smiles softly, “you too, Joseph. Bye Duck, see you in town.”

Joe watches him go long after he’s out of sight. When he turns around with a sigh, Duck smirks.

“You got it bad, Joe.”

“I know.” He slumps down in a chair, “I think he feels the same way but I don’t want to make him uncomfortable. Coming out to a dragon’s lair and getting hit on, all while you’re at work? It would stress me out if I was human.”

“You pay him for those cooking lessons?”

“No. I, um, I guess I could ask him then but dragon/human relations are understudied outside of things like midnight weddings. I’m not even sure how something like sex would work, if it would work at all. The books I have on it are out of date and, honestly, most likely written by dragonborns who never had firsthand experience.”

Duck stands, circles the table to drape his arms over Joe’s shoulders and nose his neck, “You could still just ask. Learn what he likes instead of fussin over research.”

“You’re right. I’ll ask. Eventually. Maybe.”

He chuckles and nips a sensitive patch of scales, “It’s a start.”

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

Duck’s busy in the back garden when the chanting starts. It sounds enough like an angry mob that he draws the thicket of brambles across the door to be safe before heading for the second floor and the window to the front yard.

The crowd isn’t from Kepler, people there know he isn’t much for offerings or other forms of intervention into human affairs. He inherited his position from a true dragon who was once considered a forest and weather god. It took years for humans who came to understand that while he could help them identify what was killing their orchards or blighting their fields, he couldn’t summon rain or quash frosts.

Not only do the humans out front seem unaware of those facts, they’re constructing a convoluted, cobbled-together, ceremony. There are offerings of food, but the chants have something to do with slaking his deep hunger. Which is weird, because when you offer food to a dragon it’s meant as a gesture of kinship, not fear. The music doesn’t match either of those dynamics, the robes on the elders are white, which indicates surrender in war, and the incense they’re lighting is too heady; if he eats with it in the air, all he’ll taste is myrrh.

Wait, those are the bundles of incense humans used to burn during weddings. No one’s held a midnight wedding in decades. And holding one when it’s not yet sunset is really baffling. He’s about to write it off as yet more cultural miscommunication when two men drag a bound figure, all dressed in black, out from the crowd and drop it near the door.

“Fuck.” He tromps down the stairs, peers through the thicket for a closer look. The figure is a young man, dirtied silver hair tangled across his face and shattered red spectacles on his nose. His ankles and wrists are tied, and when he tries to scoot back from the cave entrance the crowd jeers. The man looks sluggishly between the crowd and the cave. Resigned, he crawls Duck’s way.

The dragon sets a hand on the thicket to will it away and tell everyone to get lost when he scents blood beneath the incense. Members of the crowd are getting agitated, suggesting they light a pyre to hurry the process along. That’s not even remotely how a midnight wedding works, and were Duck a certain other dragon he might tell them that. Instead, he makes a gap at the bottom of the thicket, grabs an enchanted rope from his work closet, and whips it through the opening. Two seconds later he has a cheering crowd outside his house and a petrified sacrifice inside it.

He kneels, undoing his rope and the bonds. The humans brown eyes lock onto his claws.

“Please. Please just make it quick.” His voice is raw, his pleas continuous, but he doesn’t pull back when Duck cups his chin and touches his forehead.

“Fuck, you’re burnin up. Your eyes a pretty glassy too, wonder if-”

“Drugged. To keep me from running or fighting. Not like they needed to. They, they did enough before that.” He hiccups and Duck smells exactly what plants they put into the mixture. They’re meant to make the human body more pliant. More receptive.

Fuckers.

“Okay” Duck keeps his voice soft, “here’s what we’re gonna do. I’m gonna take you somewhere you can lie down and look you over. Once you’re patched up, you can rest.”

He nods as Duck scoops him into his arms, “Need my strength.”

“Yeah, but not for, uh, for what you think.” He nudges the light with his elbow, illuminating the rumpled green of his bed. When he sets the human down on it, he tucks his arms across his chest.

“Can you get your shirt off for me?”

The man reaches one skinny arm under his back, whaps it about, then shakes his head. Duck eases him upright, let’s him slump forward onto his shoulder why he undoes the eyehooks and buttons. The sight that awaits him is grim.

“Fuck, what’d they have against you?” He counts gashes from four different instruments intermingled with bruises in every color.

“Outsider. Came looking for work. Angered the wrong person.”

“They get you on your legs too?”

A weaks nod.

“I’m gonna have to slice the pants off; got a bad feelin I might re-open wounds if I try to pull ‘em free.” He runs a clawtip up the outside of one leg; the human grips him, afraid, though when he runs a thumb soothingly up a newly-bare spot, he sighs happily. Duck’s instinct is right; there are half-healed wounds now oozing blood thanks to the man being tossed about. He instructs the human to lay on his belly, fetches his bandages and disinfectant from the bathroom, and starts water for the tea that will clear the potion from his system.

When he starts on the wounds on his back the human whimpers, weakly clutching the blanket.

“Shhh, it’s okay sweet thing. Know it hurts, but you’ll feel better soon.” He runs the claws of his free hand through silver hair, undoing tangles as he goes. He is sweet; long legs and wiry arms, a face that’s odd but impossible to look away from. Duck wishes he were a worse dragon than he is; he could slip his threadbare underwear down and relieve the effects of the potion another way. Instead he patches and cleans, tips tea between parched lips, and finds one of his smaller robes to protect the skinny frame from falls oncoming chill. When he’s done, the young man is asleep. So he draws the blankets up and goes to sleep in the garden.

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

His body feels like it’s been through a wine press. No doubt a result of the dragon “marrying him.”

No, wait. He’d taken him to bed, run his claws tenderly through his hair, but then he’d tended his injuries and let him sleep unmolested. Indrid rubs his forehead, wishing his foresight hadn’t been so weakened by his weeks in jail; it would be nice to know if this is a sign the dragon is harmless or if he just prefers his food uninfected.

The bedroom door slides open and a scaly figure walks in, nose firmly in a book. It’s not the same dragon as yesterday; this one is sleek, with midnight scales and long, narrow horns. The one who tended him was bulkier, with scales like a forest viewed from above, dozens of greens and golds melding together. His horns were shorter, Indrid remembers because in his fevered state he wanted to rub them. They looked soothing to touch.

“Oh, good morning.” The dragon closes his book, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you. I just came in for some scale oil and I’ll be out of your hair.” He grabs a purple bottle from a shelf.

“Wait, please.” Indrid struggles to sit up, “can, can you tell me what’s going on?”

“We were sort of hoping you could enlighten us. From Duck’s description, your delivery was so garbled he couldn’t figure out what they wanted. Or, um, it was clear what they wanted done to you, but not why it should be or why they chose him.”

Indrid’s about to answer when a second voice drawls, “Joe, you better not be pesterin our guest with questions.”

The black dragon looks over his shoulder into the hall with a sly grin, “He asked me first.”

“Uh huh, a likely story.” The green dragon, Duck, steps into the room, pausing to kiss Joseph’s cheek. Oh gods, Indrid understands now; he wasn’t fucked or eaten yesterday because Duck was waiting to share him.

“Since you’re up we can--whoa, whoa what’s wrong?” Duck kneels by the bed as Indrid tries to scramble backwards.

Joseph sets his book and bottle down, “You still think you’re dinner, don’t you?”

“Wh-why shouldn’t I?” Indrid pulls the blanket up to shield himself.

“For starters, we don’t eat humans. And we sure as hells don’t fuck ‘em without them bein’ real eager. Even then, some of us stall.” Duck gives Joe a pointed look, “beyond that, someone dropped you here after torturin you. You need lookin after more than anything.”

“We should get these fixed too” Joseph picks up his shattered glasses, “I might have what we need in my workshop, or we could go into Kepler-”

“We’re near Kepler? Thank the gods.” Indrid slumps against the wall, “It was the last place I stopped before things went south. I should have just stayed there. Instead I got it into my head to keep travelling, find an enchanter to train under and got...well, you saw.”

Duck carefully sits on the bed, as far from Indrid as possible, “Yeah, I did. I promise, nothin like that’s ever gonna happen to you again.”

“And if you’re interested in learning magic, most dragons have some. I’d be happy to share what I know if you’re willing to assist in my research.”

“That means makin sure he don’t fall asleep too close to his experiments.”

Indrid has no idea what those experiments might be, but he decides he’s very willing to find out.

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

Voices echo from the back garden, so Barclay curves left instead of going to the front of Duck’s home. Joseph asked him to bring his next few meals here since he’s helping Duck with an “unexpected house guest.”

He’s anticipating another dragon, almost drops his cargo when he sees how wrong he is.

“Indrid?”

“Barclay! I, when Joseph mentioned we were getting dinner from town I hoped it was the Lodge but seeing you is better still.” The other man is in a thick sweater and is wearing one of Duck’s wraps as a makeshift skirt, “I’d get up to hug you but I’m a bit weak at the moment.”

“I got you.” He sets the bags down and leans in for an embrace.

“I’m glad you fellas know each other.”

Barclay remembers burying his fingers in fine, silver hair while Indrid kissed him and worked his clever fingers inside him, promising he’d make him feel wonderful. He did. Every time.

“Yeah.” He blushes, spots Joseph registering this information and--knowing him--storing it away for later.

He was already making frequent trips to see the dragons, but as weeks give way to months he finds that whenever he’s not working, his feet ache to wander up into the hills.

Tonight, he and Joseph made dinner for the four of them (Indrid’s taken up residence in Duck’s home, and the dragon seems deeply uninterested in making him move). The dragons are on dish duty, so he and Indrid wander back to the library where Joseph has lit a fire.

“You really ought to tell him how you feel.”

“Is it that obvious?” Barclay fiddles with the bracelet on his wrist.

“Very. Then again, I know what desire looks like on you.” Indrid bumps their shoulders together playfully.

“But he’s, uh, he’s got Duck. He wouldn’t want a human, no matter how much we like each other.”

Indrid wordlessly moves to the bookshelves, smile widening as he finds a tome bound in blue leather and brings it back to the rug, “I found this when I was fetching books for him the other day.”

“Holy fuck” Barclay stares at the drawings, faded and labeled with draconic runes but undeniably that of a dragonborn fucking the living hells out of a very happy knight.

“I believe it tells the story of a knight who agrees to take a fair maiden's place as an offering and ends up enjoying his new station in life. It’s clearly been read often, though the anatomy is off in places.” He indicates a drawing in which it’s obvious the human doesn’t have balls to go with his enormous cock.

Barclay wants to say something witty, but all he can think about is gripping Joseph’s horns while he twines his tongue around Barclay’s cock.

“Yes, it’s giving me ideas too.” In the firelight, Indrid’s uncovered, brown eyes are almost red.

“Yeah?” Barclay sets a hand on his knee, “I’m no dragon but, uh-”

Indrid leans in, kissing him gently, “While dragons have their appeal, you are what I want right now.”

Barclay lets himself be pulled to the ground and is suddenly very glad dinner required so many dishes.

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

“I didn’t realize you’d be taking notes while you did this.” Indrid smiles, amused, as Joseph scribbles something at the top of a fresh page. They’re heading down the hall in Duck’s home, Indrid having agreed to be the subject of a very exciting day of research.

“I’m not. Not, not that I’m uninterested but, um, since I need to be able to observe everything, Duck will be the one actually fucking you.”

Indrid stops dead, heart fluttering in his chest, “He...is he just doing this as a favor to you?”

Joseph smiles, shakes his head, and Indrid understands that he was reading all the times Duck looked him over with those green eyes correctly.

They reach the bedroom and step across the threshold wearing twin expressions of confusion; Duck forgoes nesting in favor of a bed, but the mattress, a dozen blankets, and every pillow in the house are now on the floor, the dragon busily arranging and rearranging them. Then he sniffs the air and turns, pinning Indrid to the spot with a toothy grin.

“Why the nest?” Joseph drags a chair across the floor and positions it between the pillows and the fireplace.

“Dunno, ever since you told me that today was the day, I’ve had the itch to build one. Gotta make sure you’re comfortable, sweet thing.” Duck holds out his hand and Indrid reaches for it.

“Not yet. Indrid, please undress so I can make some notes.”

“You’re killin me here Joe.” Duck growls as Indrid moves towards the chair, peeling off layers until he’s naked. Joseph scribbles some notes. Indrid would feel like a scientific specimen were it not for the way the pupils in those blue eyes dilate each time he looks at him.

“I just need some measurements.” He pulls a ruler from the pocket of the notebook and kneels down, gingerly taking Indrid’s cock in his palm.

“I, I should mention that is generally frowned upon when it’s just humans.” Indrid squirms as hot breath skates up the sensitive skin.

“Humans are touchy about size.” Duck adds, settling his claws on Indrid’s hips from behind. He’s good foot and a half taller than the human, which always makes Indrid feels safe in his embrace; those have been more frequent these last few weeks, Indrid using the cold weather as an excuse to cuddle with the living furnace whose home he shares.

“Hmmm, if they have less genital variation than dragons, I could see how size would become the point of competition.”

“Variation?”

“Dragons got all kinds of set-ups” Duck grinds against Indrid’s ass, “Joe and I happen to have the same kind, where we can lay in someone and get, uh, laid in if we want.”

“Laying?” Indrid squeaks, “I, I’m not opposed but I’m not prepared either.”

“Nah, won’t do none of that today.” Duck blows hot breath down the back of his neck, “if you want, we can try some other time. Can even let Joe take notes. And if he’s good” Duck rests his chin atop Indrid’s head and looks down, “I’ll even save some for him.”

Joseph’s head snaps up, eyes wide, and for an instant Indrid expects to be sandwiched between two dragons, which sounds deliciously warm. Then Joseph collects himself, “Yes. I’d, um, I’d like that. But for now, I need one more measurement” his tongue flicks the air near the head of Indrid’s cock, “may I?”

“Please. Ohhhhhhhyes” He moans as Joseph licks his shaft, “that’s lovely, so veryOHgods” he bucks his hips as Duck digs his claws into the meat of his thighs.

“That’s very helpful, Duck, he’s getting wonderfully hard.”

“I aim to please. Now hurry up before I start fuckin him here and fuck up your data.”

“Just a second..there, done. Duck, please kneel, Indrid do the same but keep facing me.”

“Yessir.” Duck pulls them both to the floor. Claws spread his ass open and the tip of one pokes the base of the plug he put in earlier, “heh, you let Joe help you with this?”

“N-no” Indrid cranes his neck back for a kiss.

“I didn’t want to overstep.” Joseph replies matter-of-factly.

Indrid runs his mouth along Duck’s jaw, “next time I’ll make him warm me up with his tongue before putting it in.”

A moan from the chair as Duck rumbles, “good thinkin, he’s fuckin incredible with his tongue. But you better let me watch.”

“Of course.”

Fabric shifts behind him and then Duck’s wrap falls to the floor. The plug joins it and then a solid, ridged cock is teasing his cheeks.

“You ready, sweet thing?”

“Yes.” Indrid pushes his ass back, whines when only the first half-inch is pushed in.

“Don’t worry, you’ll get the whole thing. Just gotta go slow, don’t wanna hurt my mate.” Duck pauses, “huh, sorry, that just came out.”

“I don’t mind.” Indrid sets his hands on top of the dragon’s.

“Fascinating.” Joseph scribbles more notes.

“You like the idea of bein my mate?” The question is shy, Duck hiding his face in Indrid’s neck.

“So very much. You make me so happy, Duck, you take such good care of meEEEoh, oh I see.” He snickers as Duck thrusts shallowly and laps at his throat, “you like being a good mate, don’t you sweetheart?”

“Fuck yeah. Wanted to, to do this months ago, wanted, when they gave you to me I wanted to climb into bed with you, fuck you sweet and slow and tell you nothin was gonna hurt you now, that you were all mine, keep this cute little body safe under the covers. Under me.” He thrusts several inches at once and Indrid moans, bounces in his lap in search of more, Duck click-growling each time he pushes down.

“Please, please, I want it all, Duck, pleasepleaseAH, AHhnnnngods” he grabs Duck’s arms as they wrap around him, the dragon bottoming out with a groan.

“Holy shit.” Joseph stares at them, and Indrid follows his gaze down to his lower belly, where the outline of Duck’s cock is unmistakable.

“Oh I like that a great deal.” He whispers, biting his lip as the outline slowly moves.

“Me too. Fuck, fuckin love how small you are, you barely fit on my dick and you’re still beggin for it.”

“How could I not?” Indrid purrs, relaxing against Duck’s chest, “this is going to sound very silly, sweetheart, but please, please” he tips his head up to kiss Duck’s chin, “take me?”

A tender, deep purr, then “anythin’ you want, sugar.”

Indrid lets his mouth fall open, spilling moans across the floor as Duck fucks him with abandon. It’s so much, almost too much, but it’s all he wants, to be taken and cared for by the magnificent, loving creature behind him.

The stretch and drag of Duck inside him is so intense he barely registers his own orgasm, though he cums hard enough to splatter some on Joseph’s leg. Then he’s holding on and whimpering as Duck spills into him, hotter than a human and so plentiful it drips down his thighs before the dragon even pulls out.

“Got what you need?” Duck pants, still holding Indrid to him.

“Yes.” Joseph is purring, gaze drinking in the two of them.

“Good. C’mon, sweet thing, let’s do see how my nest holds up to me mating the fuck outta you.”

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

Duck said it was fine to use the glyph to come in without knocking, so that’s what Barclay does. He sets the cake he made in the kitchen, wanders down the hall in search of the others. They weren’t at Joseph’s, so odds are good they’re here. Muffled voices direct him towards the bedroom, but when he arrives his libido kicks all sensible thoughts from his mind.

There’s a giant mound of cushions on the floor, at the middle of which he can see Duck’s tail, the spines of his back and, occasionally, his head. Indrid’s feet and calves are just visible, so limp he’d worry he was asleep except for the little moans he knows quite well. And sitting by the fire, watching the scene with an obvious tent in his lap, is Joseph.

Two scales snouts snap up into the air. Duck notices him, whispers something to Indrid, who waves and then pulls the dragon back down. The same can not be said for Joseph, who is licking his lips like he’s just seen a gourmet meal.

Barclay smirks, moves to the chair but stays standing, stroking one horn as he does, “I’m not interrupting research, am I?”

“Um” Joseph’s cheeks go golden, “yes and no. I, I really was making notes at first but for the last hour it’s been, um, hard to focus.”

“Wonder why. Wait, holy fuck, they’ve been doing this for an hour?”

“One hour and twenty-four minutes.”

“Knew Indrid had stamina but that’s impressive. Uh” he trails a finger up Joseph’s leg, scales as smooth as he’d hoped, “how long have you been dealing with this?”

“Most of that time.” Joseph’s breath catches charmingly as Barclay straddles him.

“Babe” he kisses the warm column of his neck, stopping to pay special attention to each scar, “I know you’re dedicated to your work, but I’m pretty sure they’d let you join them.”

“I didn’t want to be rude.”

“My polite dragon” Barclay nuzzles his cheek, “you still deserve to be taken care of, you know that, right?”

Joseph nods, tips his head to the side so Barclay can nibble his throat while undoing his wrap. What he finds is spectacular; a pointed cock with circular ridges and, beneath it, a slit just begging for his tongue to tease it. But since he’s not done kissing him yet, he adjusts his balance so he can close one around the shaft and slide the fingers of the other into the slit.

The dragon makes a series of hurried clicks and growls, throwing his arms around him and kissing his face, “Barclay, you, you’re so wonderful, I never thought you’d want this, ohgoodgods.”

“I do, babe. I wanna know what my whip-smart, handsome dragon likes, wanna make you come apart” He squeezes lightly and Joseph growls.

“I did not wait this long to cum on you while you’re clothed.” Clawed hands grip his ass as Joseph stands and carries him to the nest on the floor, dropping him into it with uncharacteristic carelessness. Which he then remedies by methodically removing Barclays clothes and folding them into a pile.

“Mmmm, hello dearest.” Indrid turns his head to kiss him as Joseph rolls him to face the other two.

“Hey. Gotta say, you look really good like this.”

“Damn right he does.” Duck’s hips stutter and Indrid squirms happily, “heh, shoulda known Joe would pick that for you. He’s got a thing for thick thighs.”

“Huh? OH! Ohfuckyeah.” He moans as Joseph manhandles him to thrust his cock between his thighs. Teeth nip his neck as golden pre-cum streaks his skin. The scales of his cock rub wonderfully on the base of Barclays own, and soon he’s so hard he’s ready to promise Joseph anything he wants for the chance to cum.

Cool, human fingers encircle his shaft. Indrid grins, “I may not be able to move much, but Joseph seems to be more than capable of getting you to fuck my fist.”

Barclay dips his head forward with a groan to kiss his shoulder.

“You don’t gotta worry about movin’” Duck grunts, tongue darting out to Indrid’s cheek, “all you gotta do is lay here and take my cum like a good little mate whenever I say.”

“Yes, yes, oh goodness Duck please, take me, use meAHnnnnn” a whimper “so much.”

“Shhh, s’okay sweet thing, I’m almost done.”

Joseph purrs in his ear, “cum for me, big guy, cum for me while I coat your thighs and, gods, and Duck breeds your boyfriend into next week.”

“Fuuuuck.” Barclay spills helplessly into Indrid’s hand, holds tight to his shoulder and Joseph’s right arm as the dragon cums between his legs. There’s a muffled curse and an “eep” from beside him, then Duck rolls off Indrid and begins licking the humans cum from his stomach.

“I, I think you built a very sturdy nest.” Joseph curls his body around Barclay and drapes his tail over Indrid’s legs to brush Duck’s.

“Thanks, handsome.”

“I also think living with Indrid for months has made your mind assign him the position of partner, hence the nesting.”

“Makes sense.” Indrid murmurs.

“And--oh” Joseph sighs as Barclay kisses him.

“Promise you can share more theories later, babe. Right now, how about napping with your boyfriends?”

Joseph purrs deeper as they all cuddle closer, “I like the sound of that.”

[cherry-gemz]

The City by The Bay: Part II

Summary: Fates push you and a handsome and known stranger into each other's paths. His chilvary and good looks make you take a leap into his world and more.

Chapter Summary: You and Keanu get to know each other better.

Word Count: 2100 +/-

Pairing: Keanu Reeves x Y/N (F!Reader)

Rating: PG, fluff

A/N: First time taking a try on a Keanu fic, be nice, please! This little ficlet will have more chapters, hope you enjoy.

Who might be interested: @whiskeyslullabye​ @marissat1998 @aestheticallywinchester​ @fookingbitch​

Last chapter recap:

"Yeah...just around the corner. Did you...did you want to hang out for a bit? I mean, I didn't know if you were headed somewhere before I spilled your drink. What am I thinking? Of course you were off somewhere…"

"Are you always like this?" You giggle as you turn to head to the hall. 

"Like what?" 

"Nevermind, I'll be right back," you reply coyly. "And...I didn't have any plans today...I'd love to hang out."

"Really? Cool," Keanu responds and a grin appears on his face. 

"Yeah, I can't stay very long, however. I have a meeting with a client for lunch," you reply and he looks deflated. 

"Yeah, okay...well..hmmm," he says lost in thought. 

You feel stupid, you can't believe he wants to hang out with you and you're choosing work. You're really kicking yourself for even mentioning it. This opportunity will never happen again. 

"Well, I tell you what," he pipes. "I still owe you a cup of coffee. I happen to make the most amazing cappuccino. How about I start off with that?"

"Sure, that sounds lovely," you smile and his expression changes in a light-heartedness. 

"Great. Great, Y/N, head over to the kitchen after you change your shirt and we can get to know one another better."

You beam and head to the immaculate restroom. It’s very contemporary and the natural light from the ceiling windows are pretty to look at. As you unbutton your blouse you look at yourself in the mirror: you have a goofy grin and you can’t believe in you’re in Keanu’s house. Let alone, changing your shirt and going to hang out with him a bit. This is all surreal. 

You grasp his shirt and give it a sniff, clean. And you quickly put it over your head and leave the room with your blouse and book in your hand. As you turn the corner, you see him fiddling about and admire the open floor planned kitchen. You run your hand across the white, granite counters as he ushers you to have a seat at one of the barstools where you place your bag, the book he offered, and blouse down.

He claps his hands and rubs them as a cheshire cat grin appears on his face. 

"Okay, be ready to be blown away at these magic hands," he waggles his brows and holds out his large hands as you stifle a giggle. 

You'd watch interviews of him and he always seemed so genuine, and while he still does, there's a more childlike, goofiness that melts your heart a little more. You try not fall so quickly, but he really is quite loveable and easy to be around. Much different from the men you're accustomed to in the city. Their grittiness and quick paced talk tends to exhaust you. You're more in your element with one on one, in an intimate setting like today. It's ideal. 

Keanu grins and turns steadfast to the counter by the fridge and beelines to the espresso machine. He grabs a new bottle of water from the upper cabinets and places it in the boiler of the machine. You sit taller and try to peer over. You're never really that fancy with your coffee and it's usually due to the nature of your work and how quickly you need that caffeine fix, but you appreciate the art and look forward to his recipe. 

He continues his task at hand and opens a canister that's unmarked and pours two shots of ground espresso into the portafilter. He turns to you, to make sure you're watching as he plays along as if he's a magician and you're watching his act. 

"Secret recipe," he beams.

"What is it?" You ask inquisitively. 

He holds up his index finger and shakes it, "Na uh. If I gave that away, we could no longer be friends."

"Oh, we're friends are we?" You flirt and he blushes. You got him to blush!

He holds out the tamper he pulled out of the side drawer and presses the coffee three times to ensure it's packed tightly. 

He then places the portafilter into the espresso machine's group head and locks it in place by turning it to the right.

He continues his stride and places the tiny, white cup under the head for about 30 seconds. 

"Voilá!" He exclaims and you clap. He grabs a carton of cream from the fridge and you give him a puzzling look. Even as a chef, you're quite aware of the complexities of cream, so you're curious if this is part of the plan. He pours the cream into a small metal pitcher and inserts the steam wand. 

"Ah! Almost forgot…" he smacks his forehead with his free hand and goes to the cupboard and pulls out a jar. You notice it's sugar and he pinches a good handful in the metal pitcher and continues.

As the milk foams, he starts to pour it atop the cappuccino and walks over to give you the cup. 

"Mmmm, smells amazing. Thank you," you graciously accept the cup and take a sip. An explosion of the dark, roasted bean excited your taste buds. It's most likely hands down the best you've had. 

"Omigosh, Keanu. This is beyond good. I don't think I can ever go back to normal coffee again!" 

"Aw shucks, you'll give me a complex now," he teases. 

"Well if you ever decide to quit acting, I say you'd make a hell of a living doing that. Why, my bookstore would have lines out the door to see Keanu Reeves make them a cappuccino!"

He laughs heartily, "That would be a sight wouldn't it? Ah that's fantastic." 

You bring the cup to your nose as you try to make out the ingredients. You can tell there's a hint of spice and earth, and you take a guess of what he has mixed with the grounds. 

"Is there cocoa powder?" You look directly at him and he bites his lip.

"What are you doing?" He asks and shakes his index finger at you playfully and walks over to you. 

"Trying to figure out this recipe. You don't go tell a chef that it's a secret and expect them to not figure it out. I saw you toss in some sugar for the cream. And even noticed you use cream instead of milk. But I think it's cocoa...maybe even a hint of cinnamon?"

"What are you? Some super chef-dectective?" 

He dabs the frothy cream from your cup and places it on the tip of your nose, making you giggle. He licks his finger off and gives a sly smile.

"Maybe I have a profitable future ahead of me?" You lightly rub off the cream and gaze into his eyes.

"I think so Y/N, I think so." He shyly turns his eyes away and taps the side of the cup as if he's pondering a thought.

"So tell me," you gain confidence in speaking with him. "If you can make such a delicious cappuccino like this one, why were you at Saint Frank's?"

"Hah," he replies as he turns to start his own cup. "Flattery will get you everywhere."

You smile in-between another sip and notice he's flirting back.

"Well?" 

You prod and arch your brow as he leans his back against the counter. His black  shirt hugs his biceps as he crosses his arms, and the blue jeans he pairs it with fit him perfectly. His medium length hair seems to always get in his face, but it's endearing and he swipes away some strands. He's handsome without any effort and you slightly blush as your mind wanders about how his lips would feel against yours. 

"Honestly, I went out for a ride and needed to clear my head. I found myself just being pulled in that general direction and decided I needed a cup of joe," he says as he pours the cream for himself. 

"I guess it was you pulling me in or something,” he adds.

"So then what, it's like fate that we happened to be at the same place at that exact moment? And you happened to bump into me and make me spill my drink, therefore resulting in me jumping on your motorcycle with you. And then visit the home of a mega movie star and try the most fantastic cappuccino?" You laugh and he tilts his head earnestly. 

"What, you don't believe in fate, Y/N?"

"Not exactly," you reply. 

"Why not?" He walks over and sits next to you on the other barstool. 

"I mean, if it wasn't me, it'd be some other woman you'd be inviting over instead."

"No…" he replies as he takes a sip of his drink. "No, I don't think I would."

You both sit in silence for a minute, you sigh and then turn to look outside at the view. 

"I'm sorry, Y/N if I've seen to offend you. I can drive you back if you'd wish…" his voice softens and you can tell you hurt him a little. 

"What? No, Keanu. I'm...I'm sorry," you place your hand on his. His knuckles are worn and rough. He looks down at your hand and a small smile appears. 

"I...I want to be here, really I do. I guess I'm trying to make sense of it all. You're Keanu Reeves. And I'm just me. Why do you want to know me for?"

“Why wouldn’t I want to get to know you, Y/N? I am very glad we met. You're funny and kind... I'd like to get to know you further. Let alone, you're beautiful."

You blush and look away, he's not coming on strong, but could he be sending you signals that he's into you? Did you die and just find yourself in limbo with the angel before you?

"Do you want to go for a drive before I take you back?" He asks as you both notice you haven't lifted your hand on his. You quickly remove it and place it in your lap. 

"Sure, but this time please wear a helmet. I was worried sick thinking if something terrible might happen." 

He softly chuckles, "Of course, I have many in my garage to choose from. Curious though, is it because you care about me, Y/N?"

"Oh believe me, more than you know," you quickly cover your hands over your mouth as you realize what you've said. 

He kicks his lips and tries to brush it off. 

"I'm sorry," you apologize. "I really should use my filter from time to time."

"No need for apologies. Your truthfulness is refreshing."

"Well I have a lot of that. Probably more than I should. I bet you find in your line of work it's difficult to find people you can trust."

"Yeah, I definitely have a close knit of friends through the years. Do you have family here?"

"Yes, born and reared in the Bay," you say with confidence. "I went to culinary school in New York for a minute, however. But there's something about this city that's magical."

"So you believe in magic, but not fate?"

You laugh, "Okay, you got me there."

He finishes off his cappuccino and motions to ask if you're finished, which you nod and hand him your cup. He walks over to the sink and rinses out the cups. It's fascinating to watch him do mundane things like wash dishes. 

"I am beginning to enjoy the city. There is much richness to it and the landmarks are beautiful. I will be honest though, I haven't had much time to explore like I usually like to do when I'm on location." 

He places the cups back in the cupboard and dries his hands with a cream colored terry cloth. 

"You did mention you had a project up here. Mind if I ask what?"

His eyes light up as if he were a kid on Christmas Day expecting all the joys of the morning. 

"Oh well it's not for a movie. I'm not filming yet...least as far as I know. My agent, Meredith keeps me up on that."

"If not a movie, then…?"

"A book," he replies. 

"You're not giving me much here, buddy," you laugh as he joins you. 

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I...it's just something dear to me that I've been working on and haven't really announced anything yet."

"Look, I get it. Don't worry, no pressure, you reply as you start to get up.

"Well it's not that," he gestures a stopping signal with his hand. "I... I really don't know what it's about it. I'm collaborating with a friend of mine, a photographer. And we are in the early stages, that's all."

"Oh well it sounds great," you say enthusiastically. 

"Yeah...I feel good y'know? I feel like I'm doing something different and that I can connect to people on a different level."

"Keanu...the influencer," you say as you raise your hands up in the air as if an imaginary marquee is right before your eyes. 

"Haha, I wouldn't go that far. But, I'll have to keep you posted." 

"Yeah, that would be great," you cringe. Great. Everything is great. Why are you being such a spaz?

He doesn't notice, but he gets quiet again and you don't know what to do next. Silence sometimes makes you feel awkward and now throw in the ridiculously nice and dreamy man in front of you and you're a ball of nerves.

He seems relaxed, however. In tune with himself and surroundings. 

He smiles and holds out his hand, "C'mon. Let's get going on that ride. I'll take you to one of my favorite spots in the house besides the library...the garage. Oh, and don't forget your book."

You nod as you place it in your bag and accept his hand and hope to never let go.

[bohemiansweede]

First time...

In Santa's lap

Ch 2

Fanfic

Pairing Roger Taylor Reader

Warnings Smut 🔞

A/N Rogers POV Part 2 of the series (part 1 is posted below) Please like and comment or reblog if you like

When you read part 2

Listen to this

🥂 🥂🥂🥂🥂🥂🥂🥂🥂🥂🥂🥂

I hide away in the studio almost the whole December, I had to keep my head busy with other things than... Her

There she was again

Shit..

I flipped over the cymbals with a loud *CRASH*, John looked up and I shrugged a bit and lit up a cigarette

- Hey man, what's is all the fuss about?

- Nothing John.. I'm fine.

- You are a terrible liar.. You know that?

He joined me on the drumrisers and took up his own cigarettes

- You still think about her.. Right?

- Yeah.. I do.. I was a moron, an idiot.. A complete dick.. Fuck.. She was so beautiful, amazing.. so different, so..

- She is back in London Roger, did you know?

I almost fell of my chair

- What?, Since when?.. Omg.. I have to see her

- Roger.. I don’t think..

- What? I haven't t even looked after a girl since then, not even the groupies at the Christmas gig, all I can think of is her

John looked at me as if I was from an other planet, he shook his head

- You sure you are ready to be serious Roger, she is not that kind of girl you play with

-.. I'm... Yes.. I want her.. I wanted her back that evening too but.. Omg.. I screwed up

- I don't think she is so keen on meeting you, but me and Veronica can maybe luer her into something.. But Roger.. It is something you need to know

My eyes widened, I could only hear his words ringing in my head

"she is back.. I can see her.. a ..."

- She is pregnant Roger ..you hear me?

- What?.. I immediately bounced back to earth, a..am I.. going to be a dad?

Tears fell down on my cheeks

I looked on my own hands, fiddled with my drumsticks, almost whispering

- I have to see her, I want her more than ever

The upcoming week passed by slowly

The day was here, I had kicked out Brian to be with Chrissie

I was so fuckin nervous, I told myself out loud.. I'm going to show her.. that I'm not just a player.. that I'm serious, that she can trust me

I went back and forth in my kitchen, shit.. She is soon here

Shit... The owen!!!

I looked inside, it wasn't ruined

*phew*

I lighted a few more candles and corrected the flowers in the vase

*doorbell*

I was suddenly wide awake

I went out in the hallway and opened the door

There she was, even more beautiful than I remembered, in a fur coat, a cute scarf and her red blushed cheeks from the cold, her mouth, slightly open..

She looked at me with big eyes, we were both like frozen to the ground

- Y/N... Hi... You came, I showed her inside, come in.. Its cold

She just nodded quietly

I helped her off with the coat

I saw the back of her, a cute dark blue dress, her hair in a messy bun, her neck..

She turned around

- I'm ready to hear you out.. To give you a chance to explain.. But I'm not.. I'm disappointed.. Not just you.. But at myself to letting me..

- Hey... Look.., I stuttered and shook my head, please.. Please come in.. Are you hungry?

She followed me out in the kitchen

I saw her looking at the table, the roses, the candles..

I smiled at her

Saw a little smile in the corner of her mouth

- I guess that I was right then, please sit

I pulled out her chair

- I bought non alcoholic wine.. I

She sat down and started to cry heavily

I held around her tense shoulders and kissed her temple, she leaned her face onto my chest

- I... I'm so sorry Roger.. I can have.. have it removed

I looked at her

- No.. No.. Don't even think about that.. NO.. I want you, both of you

I placed my hand on her belly, I'm serious

I took away a tear with my thumb

- Are you sure about that.. I mean..

- I'm sure, even more now. I have only thought about you since that day, I.. I fell in love with you that night Y/N... Thoose other girls there and at the concerts, they don't mean anything, please give me a chance.. Please.. I

She turned her head and looked up at me

Placed a kiss carefully at my lips

Nodded

- Ok... IF we eat first, it smells delicious and I'm starving

She let out a soft giggle

I kissed her nose and stood up

Took her plate and served up the food from the stove

I turned around and smiled at her

She was here

I placed the plates on the table and poured up wine for both of us

She ate and drank with big apetite

It became easier and easier to talk, we talked about just everything really

We got to know each other, we laughed a lot and I saw in her eyes that she started to maybe feel the same

-.. So.. when I saw you Y/N, I knew what I wanted, but I became shy and tried to cover that shyness with being my cocky self

I'm so sorry for that, I should have run after you

- I know Roger, John told me a little and Veronica.. She comforted me that night, just before I left. She knew..

- Yeah.. John wasn't happy with me.. Neither of them were, at least myself

I took down the last wine

She smiled at me

- You don't have to drink non alcoholic wine because of me

- It was actually quite good.. besides, I want to remember this evening, more wine?.. Dessert?

- Ehhhmm... In a bit... I... mmmm

I stod up and took her hand

She followed me out in the living room

I had prepared a vinyl already and soon Joe Cockers hoarse voice streamed out

I walked towards her and took her in my arms, kissed her cheek and felt her arms closing around my shoulders

I pulled away a little, just looked at her

- I have to agree with him.. "You are so beautiful", I leaned down a little and kissed her, just tasting her lips carefully

She pulled me closer and deepened the kiss, I smiled while we kissed

We just stod like that, holding each other until the song ended

Without a word she took my hand and started to walk, I followed her to my room and she closed the door behind us

- Hunnie.. we don't...

- Ssssccchhhh... She pulled down the straps on her dress and let it fall down

I just couldn't stop staring at her

The moonlight made her skin shimmer like diamonds

I reached out my hand.. slowly.. touched her arm, I let my eyes wander up and down her body

- I'm not made of glass Roger.. You can touch me

She closed the gap between us and I felt the heat from her body

She opened the buttons on my shirt one by one

She giggled a little when her fingers didn't follow her mind

I kissed her passionately while helping her

Her stiff nipples brushed against my chest

- Ohhh God hunnie...

We backed further into the room and when she had the bed behind her I made a little push so she bounced on the mattress

She bit her lip and crawled up in bed

I leaned down and kissed her again and again and again

Continued my kisses down her neck, nibbling on her soft skin

Closed my lips around her nipple and heard her breathing getting more intense

I looked up at her while kissing her burning skin, I stopped a little and leaned my cheek on her belly as if I was listening, I placed a kiss on it and whispered, I can't wait to meet you, our unborn child

She smiled at me and held around my head, she slightly pushed me down

I bit my lip and pulled down her underwear while kissing her hips, her thighs, her innerthighs

She opened up under me and I gasped for air, she was just so amazingly beautiful

I seperated her folds with my tounge, dragged it slowly up and down, I circled it around her clit and her soft moans sounded like music to my ears

I closed my lips around her clit and licked faster, my finger started to slowly entering her

She bucked up her hips and whined a little

I stopped

- Are you alright?

- Yes... Ohhh yes.. Omg.. Don't stop Roger

I let out a breathy laugh and started to eat her out more intense, I added a finger and curled them over her spot

I rubbed it over and over

Not long after I felt her walls collapsing around my fingers

I kept fucking her wet pussy her intire orgasm

My tounge replaced the fingers I pushed it deep inside her, drinking all her sweet nectar, I kept moving my tounge in and out, around and around, my thumb circeled her clit

- Mmmm.. Hunnie.. You are amazing

My tounge found her spot, it kept on nudging it, her thighs clenched around my neck and seconds after she scuirted down my throat

- Ops... She looked down at me with a big smile

I simply couldn't resist her so I crawled back up and kissed her

My cock teased her entrance and my eyes locked with hers

- I love you.. You know that

- Ohh God Roger.. I love you too

Slowly I entered her and we became one

We rolled out hips together in unison, I held around her hips, moving in and out of her

I kissed down her neck and moaned in her ear

My hips thrusted faster and faster

I gripped the headboard and and snapped my hips even more, but not too deep

We kissed again and she moaned into my mouth

I felt she became tighter and I held her close

- Shit love .. I'm coming

- Ohhhh... OHHHH ROGER

I flushed my seed inside her and her contractions squeezed the last drops

I fell to the side in bed, pulling her with me, still inside of her

She had her head on my chest and I pulled her closer

It was silent

All we heart was a little whining wind and the clock on my nightstand

It was after midnight, it was new years eve

I smiled a little to myself

- Y/N..?.. I... I was going to wait until tonight, but.. I cannot hold myself any longer

I pulled out the drawer and took out a box, placed in between us

- This is the last day of the year, and last day I was alone, I want to be with you.. Both of you.. Forever

.... Marry me

💍💍💍💍💍💍💍💍💍💍💍💍

Enjoy more reading in my masterlist

Thank you and Happy New year 🎉

[likesomekindofcheese]

Or the One where you pretend to be Engaged (Joe Mazzello x fem! reader oneshot)

Summary: You and Joe fake an engagement to get wedding cake samples

Word Count: 2895

Warnings: some mild swearing, I guess, but pretty mild. Cake and marriage. Kids are mentioned. Shenanigans.

A/N: Hello there @assembledherethevolunteers​! I am your Secret Santa! And this was written in your honor for @yourlocalmusicalprostitute​ Possessed by Love celebration! I hope you enjoy it! Also shout out to actual goddess @joeneslee​ for helping me with ideas when I got writers block!

“Are you ready?” he asks eagerly.

“I don’t know…” you reply, shaking your head.

Both of you sit in the car parked outside of the cake store. It is a small building, painted pastel pink building with a white roof. There is a wide glass window that reads “Let them eat Cake!” in a heart slathered on with white paint. It looks like a Hallmark Valentines Card, but were you ready to enter that place? With Joe?

Joe has always been your friend, and most especially your baseball buddy. The stadium was your safe place with him, not anything flowery or romantic. Both of you would discuss everything under the sun until pipe organs blared out chords when the teams ran on the field. You were used to the ballpark, the sun beating down over the rim of your cap. The taste of hot dogs right on your mouth and both of you eating ice cream cones at the last stretch as bats cracked the balls louder than anything on earth.

“Hmmmm” he would say in a Fake Commenter voice, thick with a nasal accent “numbuh forty-three hit that ball and ooooo he’s going!”

“Uph! He missed it! The ball rolling!” you would throw in, watching the action.

“Ooooo! Too baaad so saaaad!” Joe would continue with the voice.

But even at the stadium, you couldn’t even eat a regular meal with him. He would make silly faces, gulp stuff down, or shove his arms in his shirt as if he was a velociraptor. How on earth would you last through a wedding cake tasting?

“This is a lot for just wanting some desert,” you commented.

“Yes, but it’s free dessert. And how long until we have to pay for every good thing, Y/N?” He argued, smiling fearlessly at the place.

“But, what…it might be wrong…” you advise.

“Ok, what’s the worst that can happen?”

Thinking through, you throw your hands in the air in exasperation.

“Food poisoning,” you say.

“In this kind of store? I doubt it,” he shrugs.

With a deep breath, you go “okay…I’m ready…”

Both of you get out your boxes and place the rings on your left ring finger, but still in the car, where no one can catch you. You said a little prayer for a bit of normalcy. As much as you were hoping for.

The entire store is painted pastel pink and white with flowers on each counter and white cupids all over the walls. Cutesy love songs play on throughout the speaker. As soon as you walk in, a perky young woman with pale skin and a brown ponytail walks up and cheerfully greets in a Disney Princess voice, “Is this the future Mr. and Mrs. Mazzello?!”

“Yes it is!” you say with an equally cheesy smile.

Joe leans down and hugs you from the side as you lightly kiss his cheekbone. When your hand goes up to hold his, you make sure the ring sparkles in the employee’s direction.

“Yes, and we’re thrilled!” he adds.

You pop your hand forward to show and she squeals on cue.

“Wonderful! Let’s get started then! When will your wedding be?” she asks. She pulls up an Ipad from the counter and begins to tap enthusiastically on it.

Joe answers perfectly, “Next April.”

“So a Spring wedding! Are we thinking florals then?” she asks, glancing up.

You nodded “yes…”

As she turned around to take more notes, Joe whips his head to you and says in his smoothest, Streep voice “Florals in Spring?”

“Groundbreaking!” you finished with a repressed laugh.

“A floral cake would look beautiful! Let me get our expert and our baker ready with the flavors today!” she explained.

Zipping around, she leads you into the next room that looks like a small café with plenty of wooden tables and chairs. Already you can smell the chocolate baking in the next room. Sitting you down, she serves you some water from a crystal pitcher and Joe insists he pours your cup.

She keeps grilling you about everything under the sun where you both had to come up with stuff and wound up with the most cliché, cheesy wedding you could think of. Anything that would turn someone away. Not get too much attention.

The girl looks dreamy-eyed at the details of wedding planning. Thinking of one of her own in her daydreams, perhaps. But once the baker- a short, pudgy man with dark hair and glasses with an apron, your breath hitches. Especially since he is already holding a few plates of cake samples.

You feel Joe’s arms wrap around you as he sets the plates down. One plate has a cake with icing, and one has fondant.

“Fondant or Buttercream?” the baker asks.

“Buttercream! Please! Fondant is disgusting!” you insist.

“I need a cake as sweet as my sweetie pie is,” Joe says in a disgustingly saccharine tone. You can’t help but smile.

“What about the design? Simple or ornate?” he asks.

He folds his arms and eyes you over his glasses. You grit your teeth. Both of you begin to say the opposite thing, then Joe blinks, his face is red. Looking over, your eyes widen, and you nod furiously.

“Uh, simple! Simple is better! I’d like something my nieces and nephews can eat!” he requests.

The baker shrugs and confirms. He walks away saying he will get the buttercream samples.

Joe turns to you and rubs his hands together happily.

“This is it, Y/N! Here we go!” he cheers.

The young woman and the baker pop in from the back. Their arms and hands are filled with cake samples of every color and flavor you can think of. Each one is cut into perfectly square pieces as if done by machines. There is a chocolate cake, a vanilla cake, a lemon cake, and a carrot cake. The woman settled her plate down, her white blouse stained with the pink icing, and then hurried back.

The baker handed you several disposable white plastic forks from his apron and pointed to the trash can next to your table.

“Okay, are you ready to dig in?” he asks you.

When you look his eyes are soft, his hair is a little scruffy, and his smile makes your cheeks feel hot.

“I’m ready!” you declare

Joe’s phone goes wild with buzzing as you stab your fork into a vanilla piece.

“Sweetie!” you say, almost through gritted teeth, worriedly looking at his pocket.

Joe turns to his phone and looks at it. Numerous notifications are asking what he was doing and how it was going from…of all places…the band group chats.

“Oh my gosh, they’re all talking,” Joe sighs. The fork goes in and he gets a generous bite of the chocolate sample. But there is so much it gets on his right pointer finger.

He huffs like a kindergartener. He sets his fork down with a bit of a scowl, then his thumb presses the button on his phone, and it goes into Speaker mode.

“Guys, I am just at my fiancé’s cake eating, okay?” he speaks into Siri and sends in an instant.

As he takes a second bite, his brown eyes go wide.

“Oh, my go…. This is incredible!” he exclaims with a mouth full of cake.

The first bite of your lemon sample is moist and yet dense. Sweet enough to perfection. You love it. Right as you plunge your fork into it again you hear Joe’s phone continually buzzing. When he finishes it, he wipes the icing from his finger on the napkin and pulls it up.

“Oh…uh…” Joe spoke, he bit his tongue looking at the line of notifications scrolling down.

It won’t stop buzzing.  And the lights blinking you can’t help but notice as well. Peeking over his shoulder, the band is on fire asking about the engagement.

“Why don’t you turn it off, let’s be in the moment and enjoy this together!” you suggest, touching his forearm.

He nods promptly and turns it off, putting it in his pocket to deal with later. He then stuffs the vanilla whole inside his mouth. He chews, and nods, going “mmmmmmmm!” in approval

“Ohp! I got too much buttercream in mah mouth!” Joe cries. He sips his water, moving his jaw as if it was peanut butter.

“Need me to take care of it, sweetie?” you ask.

You heard the loud whirl of the mixer in the back and the bell right over the door ching with the entrance of another couple

“Anytime, babe.”

You lean over and kiss him, tasting the frosting. His lips are soft, and you can smell his shampoo too. He smiles and goes in for another one with more pressure, with a hand pressing your shoulder. You start giggling.

“Woah! Save some for the wedding night tiger!” you chirrup demurely, pushing him away.

“Anything for you, wifey,” he says, and the pink on his cheeks are impossible not to notice.

But when you look behind you in curiosity your heart picks up at the sight. Your college friend and her fiancée had just walked in.

“Y/N!” she half-screams, “oh my god, you’re engaged! Oh my god!”

She hurries over to you in a loud squuuuuueeeeee and tackles you into a hug. But you’re silent. Not sure what to do or how to react.

“Now we can BOTH have our big day! Ohmygod, I’m so happy for you! Let me see?” he begs.

She points a hand to your left hand and finds the old ring.

“Awwww, it’s beautiful!”

You and Joe share a look, unsure of what to do. His eyes go wide, and you could see a bit of frosting still on his face, getting whiter and whiter until it looked like the buttercream frosting on the plate.

“Ooooo, and who is hee?!” she asked, going over to inspect Joe.

Her fiancée is in the corner, hands in his pockets, and swaying on his toes. Waiting.

“Oh, this is Joe. We are just deciding and trying out wedding cakes.” You answer firmly.

“Oooo! When is the date! I have to go! I just have to see it! I’m gonna cry but it’s gonna be worth it! You deserve nothing but the best, honey! When did you get engaged? I saw nothing on Insta!” she queries, head tilting in light confusion.

Crap, crapcrapcrapcrap you think.

You looked a little to the left at Joe, shrugs with a wide jaw.

“He proposed…at a game. Yesterday.” You say. “But we…we just wanted to get some details right before anything gets public.”

Joe gets up to put an arm around you.

“And my little snuggle bug here is so modest and didn’t want to overshadow anyone on their big day. Wedding Season, you know!” he adds.

Looking up, you give him a small grin and he grins back.

“Ooooo, but it’s your big day too! You should feel special!” she comments,

“We just want to get everything planned….and besides, I’m a local fringe celebrity. And I…I don’t want to get the media too riled up,” Joe responds, moving his free hand for her to be quieter about it.

Her fiancé walks forward, he takes her under his arm, and they lean against each other in a half hug. But he keeps squinting at Joe.

“Wait…I swear I may have seen you before…weren’t you in…uh…” he mumbles, scratching the back of his head.

You turn Joe’s head to the cake samples, eyes darting down to them.

“Hey…I think we have more cakes to taste we need to make decisions, we can talk later!” you say, tugging on his sleeve.

“Yup. Decisions. Big ones.” Joe agrees. Both of you turn your backs to continue.

“Okay, buy Y/N!” your friend says, she gives you a sweet hug and a genuine smile before she goes over to discuss her wedding with the employee at the front desk.

But right as you begin to work on the third sample of rich chocolate, you look up and saw of all things, another friend of yours walking in the café area while tying an apron around his waist.

“Y/N! Oh my god! You’re engaged!” he gasps, letting go of all professional courtesy.

He runs up and hugged you.

“Uhhh, yeah. I am. Surprise!” you shrug.

“Wait, let me help you. I just started working here and I’ve been binging Great British Bake Off for a month, I am a cake expert!” he says.

He plops down uninvited on the chair across from you and Joe, looking at them.

“That one needs to be cream. Not white. Cream. Though adding a few red flowers would be nice. Blue might be pretty, but red is romantic and passionate!” he advises.

As Joe looks down, ready to eat a third sample of chocolate with blue icing he snatches it away.

“Hey!”

“No! Not chocolate!” your friend scowls.

“Oh, come on! Chocolate is the best!” Joe argues, he grabs the plate and pulls it back

“Chocolate gets dry! And this isn’t a birthday or kiddie party, this is a wedding! It needs to be mature and professional with some decoration!” he says. “It needs a refined flavor! I have one I made this morning, let me cut you both a bit!”

He dashes to the back, returning with two samples of a red velvet slice. Once you and Joe eye each other, taking a pensive bite both of you grimace. It tastes more like a stale piece of toast than an actual cake.

You chug down the rest of the water and give him a half-hearted thank you. But right before you can change the subject, he gets out a notepad in his pocket filled with cake designs.

“This one would fit a wedding too…and so would this one…and this one!” he lists, flipping yellow lined pages of tiered cakes full of flowers and swirls. You can feel Joe starting to tap his foot.

“And all in that flavor you just tried!”

Standing up, you smile and shake his hand in thanks.

“Wow! That’s a lot well-I gotta get back on the -uh-juice diet for the wedding dress fitting I’m going to next Friday.”

Joe gets up to hug you from behind. He kisses your cheek and you feel a genuine smile grow on you.

“Not that you need it, honey bear. You’re gorgeous no matter what. You could wear a paper bag on the aisle and I’d still be blown away,” he compliments

“Thank you.”

He pecks your lips, “anytime.”

His ginger head turns toward your friend, gathering leftover plates.

“We’ll consider the designs and if we decide it’s what we want, we’ll call you!” he says, slowly backing away to the door.

Both of you scuffle out without a word and got into the car. As soon as you drive away, far enough to where no one near the store could hear you, you both burst out laughing.

“Oh my god, Joe…we did it! We did that!” you laugh, catching your breath.

Joe nods, his hand crunching part of his hair as he leans back into the car seat. You both park near a coffee shop just to get out and release more laughter. Wiping away tears, he turns on his phone to face the music. It was dinging like mad from the Groupchat and he smiles, amused.

“You won’t believe this…the band’s all amazed and…they’re asking for proof!” he tells you.

“What kind of proof?” you ask, sighing as your breath was slowing to normal.

“Ben says he wants to see a ring and a kiss in one pic.”

“We can ignore him,” you dismiss.

“I dunno…now Gwil wants one…and Rami…and Lucy…and Allen…and everyone…”

Sighing, you say “mmmk, mmmk, just a quick one.”

Looking down, you realize that the ring was still on your finger. You position your phone in the right place, put it on selfie mode, and set a timer.

He’s gonna kiss me again, oh my god, he’s gonna kiss me again, you think almost retreating your head, like a turtle in its shell.

Keeping your outstretched left hand just below your face, you both lean forward. There is a nervous twitch in Joe’s eye, and you hold your breath in place. The camera’s screen flashed “2…1….”

Then you both dive in for the kiss. Your teeth awkwardly touch together with a slight “clang.” Your lips match top to bottom and you can still taste the chocolate cake on him. But your eyes are closed, and your breathing slows. You feel him exhale through his nose. Both of you stay there. You feel your heart go fast with excitement and nervousness, as if this was a fever dream and not what was happening right now.

But you look at each other in the eyes and let go. You realize that the photos had already been taken for a few seconds. The actual kiss was longer. He gives you a sheepish smile at yours. He never looked at you like that before. Not that you had seen. You look back at him.

Now you are sure. There is a tenderness in his expression, and he blushes until he is the color of his hair. He is too.

“Y/N…I…I always thought…”

You went in for another kiss. No photo required.

Taglist: @stardust-killer-queen​ @queenlover05​ @bens-jawline​