#polites final thoughts still being optimistic breaks my fucking heart

[echo-stimmingrose]

Polites and Odysseus’ mum were singing their final thoughts before they died

Fuck you, get off my blog/j

[thejudgingtrash]

11. “...did you just sniff me?” for percabeth pretty please 🙏🤍🤍🤍

Heya! I’m finally here to come back to this request 😄😄 It took me only a little bit in comparison to other requests, but I'm here!

Also since @percyheartsannabeth, @skaterannabeth and @not-optimistic-petrol-biscuit had asked about fluff. Here you go... Kinda? 😬 Anyway. Here's a monster sneak peek into may I introduce you to my beloved wife? 😋

It took me all day yesterday, but I managed to pump out 11k words. That's a record for a single session in one day (with like two breaks). And yes, that is still not the entire chapter. Here are roughly 9,2k for you to consume!

TW: alcohol, overbearing relatives not minding their own business, a tiny section talking about domestic abuse and Athena and Frederick Chase ain't shit but that's nothing new. Poseidon too, for once. Enjoy!

may I introduce you to my beloved wife?

(*absolutely not proof-read, my bad)

Annabeth sighed. You can do this. You can do this. You’ve already finished the week. Think about the money. Think about the move to California. Push through this day and next week, think about the money and the minute you’ll hand your termination in. She wanted to splash some water up her face, but the makeup that tinted her lips in a luscious rose and added some bronze to her high cheekbones was too expensive to be washed off and hastily reapplied.

It was pre-Dionysus Day, which meant it was merely the calm before the storm. The first sparkling sip of an impending disaster waiting to rollover the roomy Greek villa Percy forced her to stay in. Well not really forced. Forced and bribed her to stay in. That made it sound slightly better. Just think of the one-hundred seventy-five dollars he’s going to transfer into your bank account for your new start in California. I should renegotiate. California is also expensive. Make it two-hundred fifty thousand.

The tall blonde looked at her reflection in the mirror. A young woman full of life was the first thing she had seen in the morning but now she looked tired and annoyed, just how she felt. Something crashed in one of the dozens of rooms next to her and people laughed. Annabeth sighed again. It was the only thing she could do, otherwise she would scream like a banshee, making sure that at least Hermes and Prometheus would check her, if it wasn’t for Percy stuffing socks into her mouth to make her shut up before they got to her. The majority of his Greek relatives had been lovely if not terribly nosy and overbearing. It was the opposite of her family. His was warm and chaotic and for the most part welcoming. Hers? Cold, apathetic, disapproving of everything she did. She had no family in comparison, and neither would she want to compare this wholesome messy bunch to the cold-hearted Athena Pallas and the monster that was Friedrich Chase.

Annabeth respected Hera and Hestia, she definitely side-eyed Aphrodite who was cheating on her husband and she would definitely stay away from Zeus. Crossing paths with him occasionally in the New York office of Atlantic INC. was terrible, seeing him openly be flirty and loosen up during a forced trip was way worse.

This was a bad idea and I have a terrible feeling about this. The burgundy wrap dress that hugged her skin was soft and light but in the Thessalian heat it felt like a sticky cocoon caging her. She wasn’t a beautiful butterfly, ready to burst out and wow everyone. Neither was she a moth drawn to a flame. She was a bug that had been sprayed by Percy with a pesticide, wrapped in toxic chemicals which were slowly dissolving her body, piece by piece.

A knock shoved the horrendous image inside of her head aside. “Yes?” she asked with a firm voice. Too firm with a hint of annoyance, but she was not a professional actress and could not switch her emotions off as she pleased. She was a junior marketing manager for Christ’s sake. Not for much longer. Only two more months…

Percy opened the door. “Are you ready?“ he asked with his usual pleasant baritone reaching her ear.

He wore light linen pants that hugged his legs loosely and a light blue shirt with the first buttons opened up. She could see his defined chest and the swirls of black hair peeking through. The hair was styled into a disheveled curly mess which suited him way better than the gelled back corporate look and he forgot to trim his beard like the day before. Annabeth couldn’t deny what she saw – her tormentor was a very attractive man.

“Do you want to bail?” His sea-green eyes darkened a shade. Worry flashed through them.

Annabeth exhaled sharply for the last time. “I wish I could but then I’d leave you without a fiancé,” she smiled through the pain.

Her glance found her reflection again. The topknot was still intact, and a few strands carefully framed her heart-shaped face. She looked perfect on the outside and she wanted to commit manslaughter in the inside.

“Let’s get over with it,” Percy sighed and stretched his hand out. It seemed like Percy was the one that would rather bail.

Annabeth took it without any complaint. She was the happy girlfriend soon-to-be-wife and holding hands was way better than being forced into kissing him during Sports Day. The Theodoropoulos family truly had planned activity after activity during those two weeks in winter.

“Oh!” Sally peeked into the bathroom and saw her son holding Annabeth’s hand.

“There you are! Is everything okay, mija?” she asked with her sweet Dominican accent and looked at Annabeth.

Annabeth automatically smiled back. Sally was the mother she never had, and it broke her heart crumble by crumble by the sheer charade Percy and she were forced to display for the next six days. Sally Jackson deserved the best. She certainly didn’t deserve being deceived and lied to by her terrible son and his tag-a-long coworker.

“Yes, Percy was just making sure we’re arriving on time.” Annabeth got on her toes and placed a soft kiss on Percy’s stubbled cheek. It tickled but by now she had gotten used to it.

He rolled his eyes, smiled at his mother, nonetheless. Sally’s eyes sparkled and she clapped, clutching her hands tightly. “You don’t know how proud you’re making me, mijo,” she then said teary-eyed.

“You finally found a great girl and she is standing next to you.” Sally wiped a tear away and the awful feeling that sat on Annabeth’s chest and made everything heavier, amplified by a thousand times.

This was way worse than being referred to as the woman that would bear him three to five children presuming with the first one sired on this current vacation by Ares. Yes, Annabeth wanted two children at max, but not definitely now. She was twenty-eight and in the prime of her life! Note: Percy would certainly not be the father of said two children. Unruly blond waves and a mischievous grin blitzed through her head. Pale blue eyes came back from the deepest pit of her memory. Luke. Fuck no, that was even worse than Percy. His betrayal… Annabeth tried to shake the memory off and focused on the ongoing situation in front of her.

Sally truly hoped her son found love and not a quick fling. Oh shit, Annabeth thought and looked up to Percy whose face expressed similar thoughts. His conscience nibbled and guilt flooded his body.

“Mamá,” Percy began and released Annabeth’s hand in order to grasp the older woman’s shoulder.

Sally brushed his large hands off. “No, no! Off you go! You younglings should be downstairs celebrating your reunion with the entire side of Poseidon’s family.”

Annabeth appreciated the fact that Sally was invited and flown out each winter holiday by the Theodoropoulos’. Despite having been divorced from Poseidon for over twenty years, she was still a popular and welcomed guest, not just because of her son’s attachment to the Greek side and his tied division of the Greek family company.

Sally gave each of them a last smile before entering the women’s bathroom. Percy exhaled and pinched his nose. After ten seconds he released the nose and looked back at Annabeth. “Ready?” he asked a final time. Annabeth nodded.

The loud singing, yelling and talking that had been muffled by the bathroom hit her by a tenfold. The place had all the Mamma Mia vibes without the fun singing four days ago. Not anymore, as drunk relatives hit up the shore with loud music and talked loudly in their Pontic Greek dialect.

As the couple descended the stairs and walked through the parlor, a new wave of guests arrived at the same time. Three people that have just entered early adulthood looked up to them. Two men, one blond with a stoic face and bronzed skin, the other was shorter with spiky black hair and a beautiful grin on his lips. The woman next to him was the tallest out of the trio and possessed a high ponytail that would leave Ariana Grande dying out of envy. The dyed lilac hair swung around and nearly reached the middle of her thighs, meaning the hair was even longer without its tight prison on top.

“Thanatos, Zagreus, Megaera!” greeted Percy and gave each one of them a rib crushing bear hug. They looked pleasantly surprised at seeing Percy being accompanied by a pretty woman his age. It seems like the proposal didn’t reach all of the ends of the Greek world.

They fell into a short conversation in Greek and Annabeth smiled politely next to Percy as she fell entirely out of place. The evil Duolingo owl didn’t prepare her for this experience. Neither did her mother bother teaching her at least their Athenian dialect properly. She could introduce herself in Greek, order a beer, say goodbye and that was it. Thank you, Athena. For nothing again.

“Oh, you must be Annabeth,” Megaera eyed her carefully and Annabeth had the feeling that she could split her open with her hands. Weirdly enough, Annabeth was kind of into it. Megaera wasn’t only as tall as Percy but she was clearly the one with the toughest workout regimen as she displayed her muscular legs and defined arms with a short cocktail dress only a few shades darker than her hair.

“Yes,” Annabeth squeaked. She nearly added a ma’am towards the end. Megaera cocked her dark eyebrow. She had an aura that demanded respect.

“Interesting to see the woman who captured Perseus’ heart. It seems that he did develop a good taste after all. Calypso was as pretty as the crescent moon flower but sadly as dull as his corny jokes are.” Megaera’s deep smirk was a stamp of approval as her eyes roamed all over Annabeth.

“Hey!” Percy interrupted and placed a firm hand on Annabeth’s waist, as if he was trying to mark his territory.

“You have your own toys right to your right,” he then added with a playful tone.

Megaera actually laughed and waved dismissively. “That doesn’t mean there isn’t room for more.” A clear offer which left Annabeth’s face turn into a fiery tomato red.

“Anyway, we have some catching up to do,” Thanatos proposed as Zagreus and he silently watched the conversation blossom. He sounded as reserved as he looked.

“Indeed,” Zagreus agreed, surprising Annabeth with a posh English accent. “Father will murder me if we miss out on his moussaka. It’s to die for you need to try it, Annabeth, at least before Hephaestus gets ahead of himself.”

Annabeth laughed. The Theodoropoulos did have their positives. “I will, Zagreus,” she nodded.

“Oh please, if aunt Sally gave her go for you to stay here, you’re as good as family. We’re Than, Zag and Meg for you,” Zagreus offered.

“Annabeth is already my nickname but thank you for the kind offer!”

The three new guests went on to join relatives and friends at the party which seemed to get more chaotic by each passing minute as the volume seemed to increase.

“My cousin Zagreus from my uncle Hades’ side,” Percy explained as the three went out of his sight.

“Are they friends? Or…”

“Pretty sure they’re polyamorous. You know, I don’t know, and I honestly don’t really care, I see Zag once every twelve months at max. Just don’t stick to Meg’s side for too long otherwise she’ll turn you into her fiancé.” Percy’s tone suggested that he was not joking.

“Oh.” Annabeth didn’t know what to think of it.

Percy closed his eyes as if he was making a silent prayer, before his sea-green met Annabeth’s light gray ones. She smelled like lemon with a hint of lavender, instead of roses like normally. Delicious. If it weren’t for the fact that it was Annabeth.

“So, listen. You know I’ve talked about Dionysus Day and how his birthday brings out the worst side of everyone.”

Annabeth nodded as Percy went on to explain.

“Pre-Dionysus Day is basically same with the only exception that my great-grandmother’s house is filled with the entire family. Yes, we’re expected to eat, drink, laugh, drink, dance, drink, reminisce on our past, drink, make fools out of ourselves in order for them to take blackmail pictures and drink some more, but no matter how much they want you to open up… try to control yourself. Everything you say can and will be used against you.”

Annabeth’s stomach started to churn, and her knees slightly gave in. “Look, I’m truly sorry for the mess that I’ve caused,” Percy looked directly into her eyes and tried to ignore the rosy streaks across her flushed cheeks. “And my relatives can be overbearing. But if we manage to stick through this night and the next one tomorrow, we’re as good as done with playing games.”

“Fine,” Annabeth gritted through her teeth. She had agreed to the terms and condition. She didn’t need a reminder of the stupid decision she made two months ago.

“Let’s go.”

She placed her hand on the doorknob that separated the parlor from the huge living room. Percy followed her as she opened the door. A wave of laughter, wine, ouzo, discovered secrets, cigarettes, sweat and fun hit them.

“Oh wow, someone should open a window.” Percy suggested as he coughed. Luckily cousin Metis had the same idea. No, aunt Metis. Or was it Thetis? Why did Percy need to have so many relatives with similar names again?

“Oh, Annabeth, look at you!” Aphrodite had snuck up behind them and surprised the fake couple by hugging each of them and nearly spilling the expensive Greek vintage in her hand on Percy’s shirt. The red alcoholic liquid carelessly swirled in her glass and more than often seemed to want to escape from her clutch.

“Aphrodite, be careful!” Percy reminded her as she dug her fingers into his arm. Her nails were as fake and bought as was the bond between Annabeth and Percy.

“Oh, please cousin, you should learn how to loosen up!” She laughed, but it sounded more like the shrill sound a bird made when it got nearly hit by a car. The high pitch made Annabeth slightly frown.

“Take your girl upstairs and show her all the Zorbas moves you got!” She wiggled her badly overdrawn eyebrows.

Aphrodite had always been the poster child of perfection. She knew how to dress her curvaceous body the right way, she knew how to apply the perfect touches of makeup on her face and she was the most graceful being Annabeth had ever met. Seeing her so disheveled left the blonde American content. It showed that Aphrodite wasn’t one of the gods, she was a mortal mess like they all were. That, and it was kind of funny seeing the abrupt transition from oozing perfection to looking like a rough mess after a couple of glasses of wine.

“If you know what I mean, you two know what I mean, right?”

“Yes,” Annabeth and Percy answered. Unfortunately, they did.

“That reminds me, this is such a pretty dress that you got!” Aphrodite’s eyes widened and she tugged at Annabeth’s sleeve that went slightly over her elbows. “Percy needs to bring me a couple of those the next time he visits. Oh wait! You’re about to marry, Annabeth can take me shopping. I want to visit New York next summer. When was your wedding again?”

Panic filled Annabeth she tried to stutter a lame excuse like they had done the entirety of the stay. Aphrodite’s brown eyes found something else to focus on in the meantime. Her hand went out to poke the tall blonde’s chest as she went on to pull on the thin fabric.

“You should show the men what you got! Free the girls!” Aphrodite yelled over the loud music, pushing Annabeth’s C cup to its limits. “Let Percy stand in the corner with that stupid frown, all jealous and depressed while you’re out on the hunt!”

Percy did not look amused especially since he tried to pull Annabeth away.

“Yeah, just like that!” Aphrodite’s glass pointed directly at his face as Annabeth tried to shove Aphrodite’s fickle fingers aside. “Oh, if I were just a little bit younger and not tied to your cousin…”

“You mean cousins,” Percy corrected and made a step backwards as Aphrodite’s dreamy and drunk dazed focus shifted from Annabeth to him.

“Aphrodite, leave Percy and his future wife alone,” Hera arrived to save the stressed couple and rolled her eyes. “Go harass Hephaestus and try to be a faithful wife for once in your life.”

She still looked like she had a massive stick shoved up her ass by the way she stood entirely straight next to them, but Annabeth appreciated the gesture. If Hera didn’t like Aphrodite much, Annabeth would rather join Team Hera than stand alone by the bleachers and under Aphrodite’s charmspeak. Aphrodite pouted and stomped with her feet twice as if she were a toddler and not a grown woman marching towards her forties. Then she stormed off and ran into the arms of her lover, nother husband to spite her mother-in-law and embarrass her even further.

“Malàka,” Hera cursed and lost her cool for one second, before clearing her throat and focusing on the already tired fake engaged couple in front of her. Not even Hera seemed to be averse from drinking a glass of wine or two. “You two definitely need a drink.”

Annabeth agreed with her for once.

She pointed at the bar behind her, which was managed by Dionysus and his wife Ariadne. The number of relatives ganging up on them and demanding new drinks was frightening. Surprisingly Dionysus kept his cool and shoved drinks in people’s hands at an impressive speed.

“Yeah, let’s get over with it,” Percy sighed and took Annabeth’s hand again.

“Are you okay?” Annabeth asked him. She knew from Thalia that Percy rarely ever drank and that his family was to blame for most of it. Percy seemed stiffer and graver than usual as well. As much as she disliked his jokey nature and easy-going demeanor he displayed at work, she’d much rather have that Percy by her side right now. Dionysus Day and the day before seemed like it was hell on earth for him and walking through it each year must take a toll on him.

“Yeah, let’s just each grab a glass of wine. Let them be happy about me shoving this disgusting stuff down my throat.” He thanked Ariadne as she prepared two glasses of the same vintage Aphrodite seemed to have inhaled earlier.

“Thank you.” Annabeth took her glass and sniffed. The wine smelled sickly sweet with a hint of the bitterness that the fermentation process had left. The glass in her hand weighed surprisingly heavy, not because of the wine itself but because of the golden swirls decorating it. The glass transitioned from the crystal-clear transparency into a deep black. A lyre surrounded by a bigger laurel wreath decorated the middle section and a golden snake was wrapped around the stem. The golden rim gave it a nice finish.

“Into a fruitful night,” Percy darkly mumbled over the music. He was really not looking forward to it, which confused Annabeth immensely. She didn’t understand why he pushed himself through this if he really didn’t like the drinking activities. He surely had his reasons, hence her not starting a fight with him over it. It was his family and their tradition after all.

“Into a fruitful night,” Annabeth instead repeated.

Issuing a weird toast as well. Percy Jackson was clearly not a drinker. Their glasses clinked and each of them took a sip. Thankfully grandma Rhea made sure they were well-fed before the festivities began.

“Fuck,” Annabeth muttered. A fine vintage as well. Not as sweet as she thought, it left a hint of sweet cumin as the lingering aftertaste. Her lipstick left a mark on the glass, but she didn’t bother to care as she took another gulp. The wine was nearly finished. She slowly started to understand why ancient civilizations went crazy after this stuff.

As she looked at her so-called fiancé, she saw that his glass was already empty. A grimace rested on his face as well.

“Err, Percy?”

“What?” The dark brooding look on his face was no more.

“Shouldn’t you take it easy?” Annabeth carefully asked. His eyes narrowed.

“I am,” he stated and cocked his head towards his cousin who was still busy playing the barkeeper but kept an overall watchful glimpse on the guests that flooded the gates.

“Dionysus saw me drink. Most importantly he saw us have a drink. That should be enough for me, but if you want some more, be my guest.” He shrugged.

Annabeth felt that she should probably drag his mopey ass out of the party, but it was way too early to leave. “Fine,” she said and asked Ariadne for a refill. Annabeth went in for another long sip. She should definitely stock her wine cabinet once she was back at her shitty apartment. Before the glass reached her lips again, Hermes snatched it away and chugged the remaining wine.

“Hermes, what the hell?!” Ariadne grabbed the glass and pushed her husband’s cousin away. The bored postman was back with his shenanigans.

“My bad, dear wifey, but I’m on a mission here to abduct sweet Annabeth,” Hermes winked and placed his hands around Annabeth’s shoulders.

“What are you up to?” Out of all of the relatives she’s met so far, Annabeth was convinced that everything Zeus had ever sired was a mistake. Zeus himself was a mistake.

“Can you stop being German and boring for once?” he joked. Annabeth’s eyes narrowed. She did not like this one bit. She turned her head around and saw that Percy had been pulled into a conversation by Hypnos and Morpheus. He had completely forgotten about her. Great.

Hermes guided her through the crowd, towards the middle of the room. They had to dodge chairs, drunk relatives, a sofa, chatty relatives, the coffee table and dancing relatives before they made it.

“There she is!” greeted Achilles the confused marketing manager.

Paris, Helen, Patroclus, Hermes and Achilles stood in a circle around a table. Dozens of shots of all sorts of colors were displayed. Annabeth had a terrible feeling about this.

“What is this and why are you pulling me into this?” Annabeth asked and did not like the mischievous grin they all shared. She wanted to go back home and cuddle with Daedalus on her sofa and push his cat ass out of the way before the next steamy Outlander scene hit the screen. Yes, Annabeth was that much of a single that seeing some on-screen action was the best she could get. She hoped that the mangy cat didn’t bother Thalia all too much while she was staying in Greece. She owed her so much already.

“Well, I stayed in your country,” Paris started. “And they have a weird tradition with ouzo. They don’t drink it the way we do, watered down and slowly at lunch and what not…”

Annabeth was still American for the most part and had nothing to do with Germany. The last time she stayed there was nearly thirteen years ago. She didn’t want to have anything to do with Germany. Friedrich Chase lived in Germany. And she fucking hated Friedrich Chase. Therefore, she hated Germany. Things that would never change. Okay, Hamburg was a cool city and she was glad her father moved to Cologne. Should she feel the urge to travel back to Germany for a week or less, she’d go to Hamburg, take ten thousand pictures, and post them on Instagram the minute before she was boarding her flight back to New York. Helping her to enrage her stupid father was all Germany had to offer.

“Germans do ouzo shots,” Patroclus cut to the chase. “And since you’re the newest member of our family…”

“And German!” Paris and Hermes added simultaneously.

“We’ve decided to play this little game,” Achilles added.

“What’s the name of the game?” Annabeth asked. She was only slightly curious. Emphasis on slightly.

“Last man standing. Oh sorry, ladies. Last person standing,” Hermes corrected himself as he placed four shots in front of each person. That was way too much hard liquor to handle. But if she did Jägermeister bombs in her sophomore year of college without any issues, this should be fairly easy.

“What are the rules?” They all looked at her in silence. No rules. No prize. Just drink.

“Oh wow.” The urge to roll her eyes and walk off came back with a force.

“I think I’m going to pass,” Annabeth said and already turned to her right.

“Why?” Helen asked innocently. “Need your man to look after you? The one who’s having an amazing time back there with his third glass of wine?”

Foul game. Annabeth’s head shot to the right. Helen was right. Percy was laughing and looked like he was having a great time chatting with Oceanus and his wife Tethys. Tethys refilled his glass as her husband and Percy broke into laughter once again.

If that’s the case…

“Fuck it, I’m in,” Annabeth agreed. She swallowed the bait and she knew it. There was no reason why she should feel upset about Percy opening up all of a sudden. He desperately needed it. Why she wished to be a part of that, Annabeth did not know.

“Great!” Helen threw her brown mane over her shoulders and grabbed the first glass.

“Για μας!” they all yelled and chugged the liquor. Gia mas, the Greek toast, was repeated every time and it seemed to brighten the mood, despite resting heavily on Annabeth’s stomach. Her college days were over, but she was glad she resisted coughing repeatedly.

Patroclus clutched his stomach after the second shot, Helen ran out after the third, Paris and Achilles were laughing maniacally after the fourth and Hermes mysteriously disappeared after the first one. Annabeth was the last person standing. She placed the crystalized shot glass back on the table and examined the messes around her. The only thing that had happened to her, were that more golden locks escaped from her bun and her lipstick needed some reapplying as she left marks on each glass.

Annabeth tried to take a step away from the table and felt how the world slightly shifted around her. The fact that she would curse and hate herself for her behavior in just six hours, was something drunk Annabeth gladly put aside. The headaches that definitely would haunt her for the rest of the trip didn’t matter, she won and that was all she cared about.

“Hell yeah!” she yelled as all inhibition faded away, leaving pure and raw life force behind. Unbeknownst to her, Annabeth had moved right into the circle of dancers.

“Perseus, get your bride before she breaks her legs!” someone laughed. Was it Iapetus? Or was it Hyperion? Who even cared at that point?

The next two hours were a blurred mess. A blackout slowly crept through her mind, leaving foggy memories behind. Annabeth felt how she was dancing with people and how people were laughing. Were they laughing at her or with her? Did it really matter? Why was her hair repeatedly slapping her face, didn’t she tie it up?

She danced with different people, men and women. She really hoped that the guy that looked like a naked Danny DeVito with longer black hair was not Zeus who had lost his shirt and pants. Who was the guy with the sea-green eyes again? Why was he clapping and laughing whenever she was busting a move next to Hermes? Was he important? Why did he remind her of work? The shots might have been a short-sighted idea after one and a half glasses of wine. She probably overestimated the amount of food she had consumed at dinner prior. Wasn’t she supposed to try someone’s moussaka?

“There you are! Ares, stop dancing with her for once. We’re about to leave.”

Ugh. Ares. Not Zeus, but still yucky.

Sea-green eyes. Percy, of course. How could she have forgotten the asshole that brought her into this whole mess? He seemed fairly sober, didn’t he have a glass or three of wine? Annabeth was certain, she’d be able to drink him under the table. His height and his build might put him at an advantage, but if he wasn’t used to drinking, she might have a fair shot.

A rock song was the next song that appeared. Percy wanted to drag Annabeth off the dance floor.

“Oh no!” Aphrodite intervened with a shrill screech. “Give the two lovers some room to show each other affection!”

Hera actually raised her glass for once to show that she actually agreed with one of Aphrodite’s wild ideas. Someone fumbled with the playlist and a Greek slow jam roared through the old speakers.

“Are you guys fucking serious?” Percy muttered under his breath. But roughly eighty pairs of eyes were all but watching the soon-to-be betrothed and waited for a romantic dance which reminded Percy more of the horrors that the eight-grade dance was.

Annabeth drunkenly hiccupped and looked at him in surprise as she felt one of his hands around her waist and the other one taking her hand. They rocked as if it was the final dance at prom. Annabeth barely remembered prom. Oh right. Her mother had forbidden her from going. She never attended prom.

A casual glimpse through the crowd showed her that people were actually filming this nonsense and some women were actually cooing. Did… did they seriously think this back and forth with sweaty clothes on was romantic? Her eyes found Percy’s again.

“So…” he began.

“So…” she repeated.

“Careful!” he warned her before twirling her through the tight circle. People screamed and applauded. A camera flash blitzed through the darkness twice.

“Oof,” Annabeth groaned. Her stomach and equilibrium did not appreciate that sudden movement.

“I’m sorry, I won’t do that again,” Percy swore. The rocking motion made both of them sleepy. Annabeth suppressed a yawn, rested her head on his shoulder. Percy could make the perfect comfy bed, if he wanted to.

Percy, sensing that people were awaiting some action from either of them, placed a finger under her chin and lifted her face up. Annabeth’s eyes widened. Is he going to kiss me in front of them? Again? her panicked brain asked. She was turned into stone, not by Percy’s distant cousin Medusa who had eaten most of the truffles, but by the tenderness of his actions. He was one solid actor.

Percy placed a soft kiss on her forehead, before moving on to a temple. Annabeth blushed and buried her heated face in his chest as he released her. Intimate, soft and sweet. The screaming relatives disrupted their comfortable silence yet again. The slow song came to an end and the next upbeat one invited everyone back to the dance floor. Annabeth released herself from Percy’s tight embrace and just bolted. Damned be nausea. A wave of coldness hit her. She felt something she didn’t like the minute Percy had softly kissed and soberness woke her at a start. What was it? Anger? Disappointment? Longing? She didn’t know and she didn’t want to know.

“Annabeth!” Percy shouted, but the amount of people standing in his way made it more difficult for him to keep up with her. His hand brushed over his own lips.

Annabeth opened and closed doors left and right. The kitchen, the dining room, the smoking room. She hasted through the first floor until she found another lost soul in the fireplace room. Why the villa had a fireplace room in the first place, she did not know. It had been super-hot the entire time but what Annabeth understood as heat and what native Greeks deemed as hot temperatures didn’t have to correlate.

Great-grandmother Gaia’s humming faded away. The eldest of the Theodoropoulos looked up from the pair of socks she was knitting. When she came to find out the intruder was Annabeth, joy spread over her face.

“Come, come!” The broken English that she softly spoke reminded Annabeth of her own grandmother. She hadn’t seen Elsbeth Lilienthal-Chase since she had left Germany. And since her mother didn’t give her a chance to say goodbye, she didn’t have a phone number to reach her with. The only way would be through that asshole Friedrich Chase, and the only time she’d willingly let someone contact that man was if she had been six feet under and he would be forced to show up for one important family event for once.

“I was unable to sleep. Parties aren’t something for me. I’m too old and boring for my children and their children,” Gaia sighed as Annabeth took a seat on the green sofa next to the light blue armchair. All of the cushioning seemed to have been made by Gaia as the socks had the same pattern as the pillow that Annabeth leaned against. Balls of wool surrounded the older woman as if she sat on a field of fresh tulips.

“Drink, drink! You need water. I’m pretty sure you danced a lot.”

Annabeth kindly took the offer, grabbed the carafe and poured herself a little bit of water into a small glass. The water was surprisingly cold and refreshing.

“My children deem me crazy,” Gaia continued. “The war with the ottomans. Deportation. Fleeing and seeing death everywhere. Losing my father in the chaos. Then the big world war after that twenty years later. They don’t want to listen to the same stories. They only want to have fun. So, they sent me away.”

Annabeth felt terrible for the old lady. It looked like she had been through hell and back in her youth. She didn’t look like she needed much, only someone to listen to her.

“I won’t bore you much,” promised Gaia.

Gaia’s tanned leathery hands continued working on the little socks. “Don’t worry about tomorrow, dearie. We have plenty of acetaminophen and other hangover remedies. Tomorrow will be even worse, because Dionysus wants to celebrate his birthday with even more wine,” the old woman laughed, and her green eyes twinkled full of life.

“I also was young once…”

The two sat in comfortable silence, only interrupted by Gaia’s humming or Annabeth refilling her glass of water.

“So,” Gaia began.

“So?” repeated Annabeth.

“You are the woman that tamed my little Perseus,” the older woman grinned.

Oh no.

Annabeth had a lump in her throat and drinking water to solve it, didn’t work. She wasn’t just lying to Zeus and his wife. She was lying to an entire clan, from the youngest to the oldest members. What Percy and she were doing wasn’t right, neither was it fair. Sure, Percy’s shitty uncle didn’t help much by forcing him to marry the next person, but did the rest of the family deserve to be deceived as well? No, they didn’t, and that truth rested heavily on Annabeth’s narrow shoulders.

The fact that Gaia looked so much like her great-grandson was crazy. They possessed the exact same shade of sea-green. It was passed onto Rhea, Percy’s grandmother, and then Poseidon, Percy’s fucked up father. Always full of intelligence and calculation. Shifting easily from delighted and full of life to the crashing anger of a storm. Power and knowledge were key features of Gaia’s eyes.

“How did you meet my sweet Perseus again?” Gaia innocently asked but Annabeth knew that there was some sort of ulterior motive behind her question.

“At work,” she honestly answered, and Gaia smiled. The old lady was able to sense the truth.

“He’s not my direct boss, but we run into each other a lot. And we hated each other from the moment we saw each other.” Annabeth remembered how she accidentally spilled her hot coffee all over his shirt. She had been public enemy number one from then on.

“He’s an excellent boss, as much as I hate to admit it. He knows his ways around and is passionate about the ocean and its inhabitants. Definitely more passionate than me, I’m just there for the money. He actually wants to make a difference. And he’s extremely annoying, might I add.”

Gaia burst into laughter and needed a minute to calm down. Annabeth cracked a toothy grin. “Ah yes, I can see how you fell in love with him.”

Doom. Uneasiness. Discomfort. The lump in Annabeth’s throat grew bigger and bigger. Why was her vision so blurry all of a sudden? She looked down at her dress. Dark dots appeared. More sprinkled across her lap as Annabeth realized she was crying.

“I’m so sorry,” Annabeth sniffled. “I… Percy… I…”

Gaia put her knitting utensils aside and set herself upright in the armchair. “Oh no, what is going on, Annabeth?”

The calming hand on her back did not help the young professional at all. No, Gaia’s honesty and curiosity made it way worse.

“Percy and I… we’re not engaged. We did it because Zeus-” Annabeth tried to confess, but Gaia brushed her off.

“It’s okay, Annabeth. I know,” the old woman smiled.

The tears that smeared her foundation or rather what was left of it ceased to fall. “You what?!”

Shock widened Annabeth’s light gray eyes.

“I knew from the minute you stepped into my house. I’m pretty sure Rhea knows as well.”

Annabeth’s jaw fell open. “B-but how?!” she stuttered and felt like an utter and complete idiot. The first few days had been rough and difficult, but now she thought that Percy and she conveyed the illusion of being a happy couple.

“You were scared of everything including him the minute you arrived,” Gaia warmly smiled. The infectious warm smile of a grandma looking out for her little chicks. Was Annabeth now one of them?

“I knew something was off with that sudden engagement of yours with the way you two behaved. Either you were pregnant, or it was a ruse. Since you are heavily drinking and paper thin, it was clear that there was no pregnancy. You young people truly don’t eat enough anymore,” Gaia shrugged, patted Annabeth’s knee and went back to knitting the sock.

“But now… it all makes sense. You do feel something for each other. Even if you are blind to it for now.” She continued to hum. “I just hope that my dear Perseus will be the young and carefree boy he was all those years ago one day again. And I do believe that you are the key in finding him hidden underneath all those layers and walls he had put up due to his father.”

Annabeth didn’t even close her mouth during the elder’s monologue. Did Gaia seriously connote that she… that Annabeth Chase… might feel something for her soon-to-be boss? Madness. Absolute madness. She took everything she had thought of the friendly old woman in front of her back. Maybe her relatives did have a point, when they decided to brush Gaia off due to her old age.

Annabeth? And feeling something for Percy? If that something was hatred and the utmost rage, absolutely yes. But… anything else? She would receive a hefty sum on her bank account and would put in her two weeks the minute she found a better job in California.

“You know… there is a tale I’d like to tell about men.”

And Annabeth would prefer to place the glass back on the table, throw the heels away, storm out and run to the next airport.

“They are stupid vapid creatures,” Gaia carried on.

Annabeth snorted behind her glass. “That is certainly true,” she agreed and earned an honest grin from Gaia.

“My dear husband Ouranos with whom I had all of my dear children decided one day that one woman was not enough. And that twelve children were not enough.”

Twelve children?! Annabeth's womb just twisted and turned in protest. The shocked expression on Annabeth’s face made Gaia chortle loudly.

“Oh yes, back in my day we were all very fruitful,” Gaia affirmed.

“That sounds horrible,” Annabeth interjected.

“Oh, only the birth part and the eighteen years after it,” the older woman dismissed her which made Annabeth in turn laugh again.

“My father was a farmer and he had one piece of advice: never let someone toy with you. You are not a doll; you are a person with morals and dignity, a person with feelings and dignity. Let no one, especially not a man, treat you like a commodity or something to kick around. Well… when dear Ouranos left me and sought our neighbor with bigger breasts… I taught him that lesson. And I did so with my father’s trusted knife that I hung on the wall afterwards.”

There was no knife displayed on the wall. It was a fucking scythe. Large, frightening, brutal. A golden great long sickle with jagged teeth rested on the wall as if it were ready to cut you up into one thousand pieces. Was there really dried blood stuck on the teeth or was Annabeth’s drunken mind making things up?

“The minute our youngest turned eighteen he took off and was never seen again. And now, should a person, in that case my Perseus, not know how to treat you properly, you know what to do,” Gaia advised and took a sip out of her own glass.

“Uh… you mean threaten to cut his genitals off with a large and sharp family heirloom?” Annabeth’s eyes widened again.

“No, dearie…” Gaia gave it some thought. “Well maybe so, dearie,” she then went on. That made Annabeth chuckle again.

“But demand absolute respect from him. Don’t ask him for it. Demand it. I don’t know how but he has dragged you into our family and expects you to play the perfect fiancé. This will eventually blow up in his face and he will drag you along with him. Teach him a lesson, however.”

“You know what? I will!” With Gaia’s official blessing, Annabeth was all smiles and scheming new plots. If the head of the family gave her the approval of kicking Percy’s ass, she definitely would.

Steps echoed in the fireplace room and Annabeth and Gaia’s heads turned to greet the intruder. They didn’t even realize the door opened and closed again.

Gaia’s younger twin who still had some black streaks in the braids marched into the hall, curious about what the two women in front of her were previously talking about. Gaia’s youngest daughter Rhea had joined them. The large blue floral dress made her seem like she never left the late 1960s and the two long braids only added to that sentiment.

“Mamá, what is going on? By the way Percy is looking for you, Annabeth,” Rhea informed her grandson’s alleged fiancé before taking a seat in front of her and grabbing one of the many balls of yarn in front of her mother. Rhea then went on to play with it as if she was a six-year old.

“Oh no, Rhea, Annabeth and I were just chatting about love and life,” Gaia batted her eyelashes.

“You see, I gave Rhea the same advice about her disgraceful husband when he went out to seek another woman.”

Rhea rolled her eyes behind the large pentagonally glasses. “You and your stories about the scythe, mother,” she sighed.

“I have to make sure the younger generation knows!” Gaia huffed. “I won’t be here for much longer and then-”

“We'll regret all the things we’ve said and done to you, I know mamá, you have been telling me this since I was four years old and spilled my apple juice,” Rhea completed her mother’s sentence.

Rhea’s attention shifted to the smiling blonde in front of her. She grew to like Percy’s fiancé. She had a fire within herself and a backbone, all great things to handle a Theodoropoulos man.

“But my mother is right when she says that the scythe is a trusted tool. Zeus, Poseidon and Hades did scare Kronos with it after he tried some foul things with their sisters. Treated them worse. Did overall horrible things. He never wanted daughters, only sons. Didn’t seem to accept the fact that it was out of my hand.” Rhea squished the ball of light blue yarn in her hand.

“My children were always looking out for me and I will be forever grateful for them. I do hope that you will have the same feelings and love for your children.” It was clear who their father was supposed to be.

“Yes, I hope so as well,” Annabeth squeaked. Did it get hotter in here all of a sudden?

The door opened, and a worried Percy stepped into the fireplace room. “Oh, there you are,” he sighed as he immediately sighted Annabeth’s blonde unruly curls. He had been running from the basement all the way to the roof searching for her. Relief washed over his face like some shower gel from a cheap commercial. Only then did he realize that Annabeth had been cornered by both his nosy grandmother and his even nosier great-grandmother.

“Whatever they’ve been telling you, it’s a lie, it’s wrong and it never happened!” he warned her as he took a seat right next to her.

“Oh please, relax,” Rhea rolled her eyes and threw the wool at her grandson. “We have been talking about mamá’s scythe.”

“Hey!” both Percy and Gaia complained. At least they hadn’t dished out embarrassing stories of him taking off in diapers at night.

“This is expensive! You young people show no respect towards others' belongings,” Gaia cursed.

Annabeth took the blue yarn and placed it back on top of the pyramid of other colors.

“Thank you!” Gaia smiled before she focused on finishing the sock.

“You’ve found your fiancé, Perseus. Now go off back to celebrate and let us old people reminisce about the past and talk.” Rhea lazily waved at them whilst Gaia didn’t even look up from her craft.

“We will,” Percy said while getting up and casually dragging Annabeth along. He kissed both Gaia and Rhea on the cheek, Annabeth threw a hasty “See you in the morning!” over her shoulder before the couple left.

“Are you okay?” Percy asked as he pulled Annabeth aside for a small breather.

She nodded. “It’s just a bit overwhelming with the amount of people that either want to take pictures of us, hope I remember when their youngest kid’s birthday is, or they tell me they hope we have our first baby preferably in less than a year.”

Percy blushed. He didn’t think it was that bad, but then again, men are mostly left out of the baby talk until their mother’s saw that their best friend’s children had their first grandbaby. He truly didn’t have any intention of having a child before the age of forty. He had to save a business from his damned uncle, run and manage said business and preferably find a woman he tolerated enough to marry before he could even think of children.

Percy apologized again. “One week,” he promised her.

“One week,” Annabeth repeated and nodded.

“We’re going in, you’ve missed the high of the party with your talk with my yai yai, but that’s perfectly fine. The first have already left, let’s just mingle for ten minutes or so before we can-”

The door flung open. “There they are!” yelled Hermes who was followed by Zephyrus and Hercules.

None of them had any intention of letting the party stop before five in the morning. It was merely two. The minute Hermes had his sights on Annabeth, he knew that he had found his best drinking buddy aside from Dionysus himself. Oh no, Annabeth thought and rightfully so.

The minutes of calmness and rest next to Gaia did their wonders because Percy and she were thrust back into the party at full force. She didn’t exactly remember when the blackout happened, but it was roughly thirty minutes later. She was drinking, she was dancing, she was completely making a fool out of herself. The hair? A mess. Annabeth herself? Don’t even think about it. She had been dancing with Hermes and Patroclus, Aphrodite accidentally stepped on her foot one time when Ares approached her.

Percy broke his own promise and accepted a fourth glass of wine from Dionysus who insisted on it. That glass was his doom. The last droplet touched his tongue and his world turned into a flashy mist, his consciousness was broken into pieces, fragmented and sprinkled across the floor. Where he was, when he was and who he was were things he couldn’t remember. The only thing that popped up in his mind were waves of solid gold. Was it hair? Could hair truly move like that and possess that texture? And a whiff of lemon with a hint of lavender crawled up his nose. It was an odd combination, but it felt safe and like home. He liked this smell. Where did he smell this before?

Percy didn’t care, he had other matters to attend to. The first thing on the docket was finding the bathroom, he had drunk way too much. The house had weird rules in regard to bathrooms. Was it the left side or the right side that the young men could use? Why did his uncle Hades have to break two sinks in a span of a week when he was sixteen again? Why were women and others allowed to do whatever they wanted? His great-grandma and her weird plans were always set to make him fail somehow. Things that she had thought of decades ago still bore fruit today.

Percy stumbled upstairs and turned right and prayed the doors he was opening were empty bathrooms and not relatives making out. That was just what he needed. The first door he opened was of his great-uncle Oceanus and Tethys who had a face mask on her face and pink curlers up her hair. At least the old people still knew how to behave. He hoped his mother had left the party hours ago. He apologized and closed the door. The next one was an empty bedroom, his even maybe. No, his bedroom was on an entirely different floor. Or was it?

The next bedroom was closed off thank god, but from the sounds on the inside it seemed like cousin Eos and her newest catch Orion had some fun. Disgusting, Percy thought before he moved on. The next door was what he was looking for. A bathroom. Lit up, clean and empty. Empty if it wasn’t for this one woman who was clutching the brims of the polished sink. She was tall, the golden hair equaled a rat nest and her red dress seemed to have witnessed a lot.

“Ugh,” she muttered and looked into the mirror. Her eyes found his immediately.

“Percy?” she turned around.

Oh right. He was Percy Jackson, thirty-one, single, hopefully the new CEO of Atlantic INC., he had a fantastic apartment in the Upper East Side with an amazing view and he was in Greece to impress his family with his fake fiancé in order to secure his father’s legacy. His fake fiancé being Annabeth Chase, a woman he loathed, had to pay a little hush money and hoped would leave the company fairly soon after.

“You’re in the men’s restroom,” Percy then stated.

Annabeth looked around. No, it was not the same bathroom she used in the morning. Oh yeah, Gaia’s weird bathroom rules.

“Honestly who cares?” the junior marketing manager complained. “A toilet’s a toilet, no matter who uses it.”

Percy shrugged. Annabeth had a point but it wasn’t their house so they couldn’t dictate the rules.

“I wanted to retouch my makeup, but I didn’t find my makeup bag.” She walked steadily to Percy, but it was clear to both of them that she had her fair amount of shots in her system.

“Yeah, it’s probably in the other bathroom. Wait, let me use the bathroom for a second and then we can head back to our room and you can look for your makeup.”

Annabeth nodded and waited on the outside while Percy was tending his business. After drying his hands, he opened the door and found Annabeth yawning in front of one of his yai yai’s paintings. It showed the scythe from the fireplace.

“In all honesty, your great-grandmother is an amazing woman. I admire her. Showing kindness and strength each day. How old is she?”

“Turning 106 next October,” Percy smiled at her. “She always said she wanted to live long enough to see her favorite descendants find their own happiness, whatever it may be.”

The softness in his voice made Annabeth’s heart ache. She turned her head back to the painting. She was a nobody. She had no family, no traditions she could upkeep. She didn’t even have a steady relationship in the past five years. Fucking Luke Castellan. He also had to take that from her as well. Make her suffer. That’s what Athena, Friedrich and Luke all thought at the same time. And they all had nearly reached their wicked goal if it hadn’t been for her stubbornness and will to eventually blossom into something else. The first step towards that something else resided within her move to California. She wanted to leave everything and everyone behind and start a new life, somewhere where no one knew her.

A thumb brushed over her cheek. Annabeth looked up to Percy. She hadn’t even realized she was sobbing again.

“Whatever it is, it’s going to be okay,” Percy assured her. His hands found her sides, pulling her into a soft hug.

A true fiancé level hug. Annabeth had never felt that comfortable within a man’s reach. Percy might have been an awful and annoying coworker, but he truly cared about his fellow people. The way they slowly rocked and kept hugging each other reminded her of the school dance work they had put on the floor earlier. But this time it was real. This time there was no one taking pictures or yelling into their ears, or the demand to see a kiss.

Annabeth rested her face in his chest and Percy leaned his head on hers. It was like they had been made for each other. A welcoming scent greeted Percy. Lemon and lavender. The person stuck in Percy’s crumbled mind had been Annabeth. She was his anchor in the havoc his relatives had created in such a short time. He took a deeper breath. It felt reassuring.

“Did you just sniff me?” Annabeth laughed as she pulled away from him.

“You do smell good!” he defended himself with a stupid grin on his mouth.

“Oh, wait you’re super drunk,” she giggled again as she saw his widened pupils that had pushed the darkened sea-green iris away.

“Well, look at you,” he retorted.

They looked at each other. Aside from the bumping music and the noises people made downstairs it had been completely silent. He missed her warmth; she missed his comfort. Neither would have guessed that a simple embrace could offer so much. Neither would have thought they would take it to the next step within a split second.

One last look. A last time sea-green and light-gray met before each set of eyes closed and their lips met with a brutal force in the middle. Their teeth clacked but it didn’t matter to them. What mattered now, was the moment. Forgotten was the alcohol, forgotten were the troubles of past, present and future. Forgotten were the friends and relatives in the building and back in New York.

So... what do you think? 😄 Like I said, this is not the entire chapter 🤷🏾‍♀️ I honestly feel bad for cutting the chapter off because it's really getting more interesting from that point on 💁🏾‍♀️ I'll probably continue working on this once I've published the next act of The Fool 🥳

Also Greek people, if something seems off with this (aside from random English at times lol) hit me up, I definitely have to do more research!

[buckleyblueyes]

Buddie + 24 or 41? :)

Hello! Thank you for this great fake-dating prompt! I ended up being able to work in both prompts! (send me a kiss prompt) (send me a dialogue prompt)

Buck doesn’t know how he got here, at his ex-girlfriend’s wedding in Arizona, well on his way to champagne drunk, and pining over his best friend. Actually, that’s a lie. He knows exactly how this happened. It’s all Eddie’s fault, really. Because Eddie was the one who suggested it in the first place.

“Abby invited me to her wedding,” Buck said in the middle of a shift, apropos of nothing.

Hen looked up from her textbook with a raised eyebrow. “She’s been engaged for a long time.”

“It got pushed back because of the pandemic,” Buck shrugged. “It’s in three weeks.”

“That’s short notice,” Chimney said through a bite of an apple.

“Well,” Buck swallowed nervously. “She sent me the invitation six months ago.”

“Then why are you mentioning it now?” Eddie finally spoke, a slight edge in his voice. It reminded Buck of the night of the train crash.

“Because I don’t have a date,” Buck shifted uncomfortably on the couch.

“Do you need one?” Hen asked. “Why are you even going?”

“Well…” Buck hesitated, already feeling embarrassed and a little pathetic. “I RSVP’d when I was still dating Taylor, so it didn’t seem so--”

“Miserable?” Chimney asked.

“Yeah.” Buck sighed. “I know it was stupid to ask for a plus one, I mean Taylor and I’d only been official for a month when I got the invitation. But you know me, I’m an optimist.”

Chimney nodded sympathetically. “I mean, you still have time to find a date.”

“Oh, yeah, because ‘you wanna come with me to my ex’s wedding’ is a great pickup line,” Buck rolled his eyes.

Hen opened her mouth to say something, but Eddie cut her off. “I’ll go with you.”

“Eddie…” Buck hesitated. “No offence, but I think showing up with my best friend is even more embarrassing than showing up alone.”

Eddie shook his head fondly. “I meant as your date.”

Buck blinked twice. “I can’t ask you--”

“You’re not asking, I’m offering.”

And that’s how Buck got here. It’s all Eddie’s fault. (Okay, it’s a little bit Buck’s fault for RSVPing with a plus one, or even RSVPing at all, really.) He sighs and sips his champagne and watches as Sam twirls Abby around on the dance floor. Eddie stepped out a minute ago to call Christopher and say goodnight, so Buck is alone with his thoughts. He frowns as he watches Abby and Sam, but the ache in his chest isn’t about Abby anymore, and it hasn’t been for a long time. She looks happy, and he knows he’s not in love with her anymore. He just wants what they have. And he wants it with his best friend.

Of course, he only realized this when Abby came up to him after dinner to tell him how happy she was that he found someone, how she could see how happy he was with Eddie, and how much Eddie seemed to love him. He smiled politely and thanked her, but internally something snapped. It wasn’t that he hadn’t known that he had feelings for Eddie--there’s a reason that he and Taylor didn’t work out, why he wasn’t as invested in the relationship as he should’ve been--but there was something about hearing it from Abby that made it more real, harder to ignore. Not that it matters, because Eddie swore of relationships after he broke things off with Ana. Something about not being emotionally available enough? Buck doesn’t quite have all the details because Eddie was Eddie, and Eddie was cagey about his emotions.

A voice breaks Buck out of his thoughts, and when he looks up Eddie is standing over him with a hand outstretched. “May I have this dance?”

“We don’t have to--”

“I want to,” Eddie says, voice firm, but gentle. “Please?”

And what can Buck do, but nod and take his best friend’s hand and let himself be dragged out onto the dance floor. They don’t so much dance, as they sway against each other, both slightly tipsy. Being so close to Eddie that their chests are touching, Eddie’s hands on his sides is a heady combination, and Buck can feel his heart racing. He wonders if Eddie can feel it, too. For a moment he lets himself get lost in the feeling, inhaling the scent of Eddie’s cologne and letting his own hands move down Eddie’s sides toward his waist.

“This is nice,” Eddie says, and Buck’s chest aches. He knows Eddie means the wedding, not the dance.

“It was a beautiful ceremony,” Buck agrees.

“Not what I meant,” Eddie laughs. “Ready for the dip?”

Buck raises an eyebrow. “You’re gonna dip me? How much have you had to drink?”

Eddie grins. “I’m not drunk.”

Before Buck can respond, Eddie is twisting his arm, and Buck is spinning out of Eddie’s embrace only to fall clumsily backwards into his arms. From his new, upside down vantage point, Buck can see Abby walking towards them, and his stomach rolls. He’s been avoiding her all night (which isn’t hard, because she’s the bride and everyone else here actually wants her attention), but now there’s nothing in her way. She’s going to come over here and unknowingly break Buck’s heart by talking about a relationship that doesn’t even exist.

Maybe it’s the champagne, or the fact that all the blood rushed to head when Eddie dipped him, but when Eddie pulls Buck back up, he does the first thing he can think of to stop Abby. He grabs Eddie’s face in both hands and pulls him into a kiss.

Eddie melts into it immediately, much to Buck’s surprise. His hands roam Buck’s body, finding their way to the small of his back, sending tingles up his spine. For a split second Buck lets himself enjoy it, lets his own hands stray from Eddie’s cheeks and jaw up into his hair, pulling him deeper into the kiss. And then, as abruptly as he started the kiss, he pulls back.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry,” He’s still breathless when the apology falls out of his lips. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”

Eddie chuckles. “I think I have a pretty good idea.” And then he’s leaning back in to kiss Buck again.

Buck puts up a hand to stop him. “What are you doing?”

“I think it’s pretty obvious, Buck,” Eddie’s eyes are sparkling. “I’m going to kiss my boyfriend.”

Buck chokes on his own spit. This must be a dream. He got drunker than he thought and he passed out and this is a dream. “Boyfriend?!”

Eddie’s eyes dim. “I guess I got a little ahead of myself there, didn’t I? We don’t have to rush into anything.”

Buck’s brain is whirring a mile a minute, but he still can’t make sense of what’s happening. “Wh--You have feelings for me?”

Now Eddie looks as perplexed as Buck feels. “I--Yeah? Obviously?”

“Obviously?!” Buck can hear the strain in his own voice. “How is that obvious?!”

“Why the hell else would I ask to be your date to a wedding?” Eddie shakes his head in disbelief.

Buck’s mouth falls open in disbelief. “You-But--I thought--I thought we were pretending.”

“Pretending.” Eddie’s tone goes icy. “You were just pretending.”

“No, I, well, I mean,” Buck stumbles over his words, face red. “I thought you were just saving me from having to show up alone and single. I never in a million years thought you could feel that way about me.”

Eddie’s face softens a bit at that. “Buck…”

“I know, I’m an idiot.”

Eddie sighs. “I guess I’m an idiot, too. I could’ve been more clear about my intentions. I hope this doesn’t make things awkward between us. You’re my best friend, and the last thing I want is for my feelings to get in the way of that, you mean too much--”

“Eddie, it’s okay--”

“I might need some space for awhile, but you can still see Christopher--”

“Eddie!”

“I’m sorry, again, for all this. I don’t know what I was--mmph!”

Buck cuts Eddie off with another kiss. It’s short, but sweet, and he hopes it gets his point across. “I thought it was pretend, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t want it to be real.”

“Oh.” Eddie blinks twice. “Oh.”

Buck grins and nods, biting his lip. “Yeah.”

“I love you,” Eddie blurts out. “I’m in love with you. So, this...It’s kind of an all or nothing thing for me.”

Buck’s grin grows wider. “I love you, too.”

Eddie kisses him, and this time it’s Buck who melts under his touch, heart pounding and knees buckling. Eddie’s hands are around his neck and in his hair and every touch sends warmth radiating through Buck’s body. Buck moves to pull away and catch his breath, but Eddie only redirects his kisses to Buck’s neck and jaw.

Buck doesn’t know how he got here, at his ex-girlfriend’s wedding in Arizona, the buzz of champagne fading--replaced with a new, much better kind of buzz--making out with his best friend, but he wouldn’t trade it for the world.

[mymoonagedaydream]

Lullaby

Summary: You’d learned to live with your nightmares, never expecting to find any kind of remedy

Pairing: Bucky x y/n

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: Language, mentions of parent death

Author's Note: Back on it, ploughing through some lovely requests :)

---

You couldn’t believe it when you got the call.

Tony Stark had chosen you to be his new secretary, effective immediately.

Your flight to New York left the same day, but that wasn’t no issue at all, because you had very few belongings to pack and ever fewer goodbyes to say. No heartache or sentimentality, it was finally time to get away from your past and everything that reminded you of it.

Even though America was huge and bright and terrifying, it felt like your promised land, and you were eager to absorb every last drop of its mystifying beauty. You could barely stop yourself excitedly fidgeting in your plane seat.

Unfortunately, you’d greatly overestimated your capacity for adapting to sudden change. Your first day of work was really overwhelming.

You spent the entire morning just trying to familiarise yourself with the insanely complicated computer system, and a great deal of the afternoon doing the same, only getting a “break” during the hour or so you spent sitting in Tony’s meeting with Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes.

They were all huge, incredibly intelligent and intimidatingly attractive- you’d really been thrown right in at the deep end.

Steve and Sam didn’t take much notice of you, giving polite smiles when they arrived but nothing more than that. You figured that, with this workload, Stark probably cycled through a new secretary every couple of months, so they’d have no real reason to learn your name or engage you in conversation.

Bucky, on the other hand, seemed a little intrigued. You felt his gaze land on you a few times, but whenever you mustered the courage to look back, his eyes immediately flicked away.

It was unbelievably difficult to focus on note-taking whilst being repeatedly studied by this statuesque, mountain of a man.

It was also unbelievably difficult to shake him from your mind even after the meeting had ended. When you finally finished for the day, you were completely exhausted and ready to just collapse.

Thankfully, your bed was only an elevator ride away.

Stark had given you a bedroom in the compound while you were looking for an apartment in the city. You told him you were struggling to find a place you liked but, truthfully, there was no way you could afford a deposit until you got your first pay check through.

You whiled away the evening hours watching some crappy shows and reading, eventually bumbling through your night-time routine and slipping into bed, hoping so much that tomorrow would be just a little easier.  

---

A long, dark hallway stretched out before you. No doors, no windows, no turns, no end.

The soft padding of your bare feet against the ground echoed off the walls as your legs involuntarily marched into the darkness before you.

You focused more intently on the sound. It began to split, a distinct new set of footsteps detaching themselves and moving out of time with yours.

A cold wave of dread trickled down your spine. There was something behind you.

You couldn’t stop, couldn’t run, couldn’t turn. All you could do was carry on walking, forced to helplessly listen to the increasingly fast approach of your pursuer.

Hot, heavy breath brushed against the back of your neck. A set of long, dark claws crept their way into the corner of your vision, twitching manically, before clamping down on your shoulder.

‘Y/n!’

You bolted upright, eyes shooting open as you tried to gulp in deep breaths, heart thumping inside your chest like a jackhammer. Still struggling to separate the residual fragments of your nightmare from reality, you instinctively jerked away the hand firmly gripping your shoulder.

Bucky took the hint and stepped back from your bedside. ‘Are you alright?’

‘Jesus.’ You roughly wiped some of the cold moisture from your forehead. ‘Why the fuck are you in my room?’

‘I’m really sorry, I know this is weird but I heard you freaking out in here and I just wanted to make sure you were alright.’

Your gaze flicked towards him, the intense concern in his face confusing you a little.

He didn’t know you at all, why did he care?

You took a few deep breaths and collected your thoughts. Maybe cursing him out like that was a little harsh, he was just trying to help. Besides, if there was any face you wanted to shake you out of a nightmare, it was definitely that one.

‘I’m okay, thank you.’ You swung your legs over the side of the bed, perching yourself right on the edge as you shot him a faint smile. ‘I appreciate you checking up on me.’

‘Anytime.’

He lingered for a few seconds, rubbing his thighs nervously, before giving you a quick nod and heading back towards the corridor. Just as he reached your doorway, he paused, quickly spinning back around.

‘I’ll be in the living room for a while. Y’know, if you struggle to get back to sleep.’

You felt your smile grow into a wide, bashful grin as you watched him disappear down the hall. Your usual post-nightmare routine consisted of splashing cold water on your face and crying for an hour, so hanging out with Bucky was immeasurably preferable.

You debated how long you should wait before joining him, not wanting to miss an opportunity to get to know him better but also worried about coming across overly keen.

Ten minutes seemed reasonable.

Slipping on a sweater, you tiptoed past the other bedrooms on the corridor, hoping to god you wouldn’t wake any of the others and accidentally make a bunch of powerful enemies before you’d even spent your first night here.

Bucky was slouched on the sofa, watching TV with the volume so low that, at first, you thought it was muted. An open but untouched bottle of beer was standing on the table in front of him.

‘D’you have super hearing or something?’

His head snapped towards you, the corners of his mouth curling into a pleasantly surprised smile.

‘Something like that, yeah.’ He patted the seat next to him as he clicked the screen off. ‘There’s never anything worth watching on at this time anyway.’

‘You make it sound like you’re always awake at 4am.’

‘Mhmm. It’s nice to finally have some company.’

Chuckling weakly, you planted yourself next to him, as close as you could without invading his personal space. As soon as you were settled in, you felt him shift towards you.

‘You get nightmares often?’

‘Most nights since I was a kid.’ His mouth fell open slightly. ‘It sucks, but I’ve learned to live with it. They’re not nearly as bad as they used to be.’

‘Really? You were thrashing around like a fish out of water.’

Your face heated up a little when you noticed his playful smirk. ‘Trust me, that’s nothing. When I was eight I dislocated my aunt’s shoulder. Didn’t even wake up when she screamed.’

‘Jesus. You could’a warned me that I was risking my life earlier.’

‘Yeah, sorry. It’s just that, usually, people wait a few days after first meeting me before they come into my room while I’m asleep.’

He cocked a mischievous eyebrow at your teasing. ‘I’ll knock next time.’

‘Good plan.’

You pressed your hand to your mouth to stifle a deep yawn, feeling incredibly drowsy all of a sudden, like you could drift off right there on the couch. The adrenaline from your nightmare must’ve finally worn off, it just never usually happened so quickly.

‘You good?’ Bucky obviously noticed your abrupt decline. ‘You can rest on my shoulder, if you want. Not as comfy as a bed but I can give you a hard shake if you start freaking out again.’

‘Thanks, I’ll try my best not to.’

You didn’t want to intrude too far, so you just leaned over and perched your head on the very edge of his shoulder. Without missing a beat, he shifted himself towards you, causing your head to slide neatly into the crook of his neck.

‘Did they start for a reason?’ You didn’t answer right away, needing a second to figure out how best to word it. ‘It’s alright if you don’t want to talk about it.’

‘No, I don’t mind. They pretty much started right after my parents died. They probably would’ve just stopped on their own after a while if I hadn’t had to move in with my aunt and uncle, pair of fucking assholes.’

He let a low chuckle escape his lips, sliding an arm around your shoulder and squeezing them lightly. ‘Well in that case I hope you did much more than dislocate her arm.’

‘I wish.’

You yawned again, unconsciously nestling your head further into Bucky’s neck and your body into his side, the soft motion of his hand stroking over your shoulder just making you all the more drowsy.

‘It’s alright, you can go to sleep.’ His soft, low voice was like a lullaby. ‘I’m not going anywhere.’ 

As your eyes fluttered closed, you felt your breathing fall in time with his, and you slowly drifted off into the most peaceful sleep you’d had in years.

---

It was a little embarrassing when Steve came across the two of you in the morning, fast asleep on the couch, tangled together like electrical wires. Bucky explained the situation, but Steve didn’t look too convinced by his tale of nightmares and innocent chat.

Even Tony gave you a knowing look as he walked past your desk.

This wasn’t exactly the reputation you’d hoped to build in your first week, but nothing that could’ve shaken your good mood that day. Every time you thought about the night before you couldn’t help grinning to yourself like an idiot.

You even felt more optimistic about your future in the job, everything just seemed so much more straightforward and intuitive.

It was incredible what a difference some good, deep sleep made.

As you were getting ready for bed that night, your heart jumped at the sound of a soft knock against your bedroom door. You inched it open to see Bucky, looking a little nervous, his hands buried deep in the pockets of his sweatpants.

‘Hey, I uh- I was just wondering-’ He paused for a second, narrowing his eyes at you slightly before chuckling and taking a step back. ‘Never mind, it was stupid.’

‘Go on. I promise I won’t laugh.’

You waited as he took a deep breath and steeled himself. ‘Well, I don’t know about you, but I slept better on that couch than I have in years. So I thought-’

‘Do you want to come in?’

You were a little surprised at how easily that’d fallen out of your mouth, and he looked pretty shocked too. ‘You sure?’

‘As long as you’re still willing to give me a cold, hard slap when necessary.’

He chuckled, nodding firmly. ‘I can definitely do that.’

You stepped aside and let him pass, quickly ducking your head into the corridor to check for witnesses before softly pushing your door closed.

After that night, you and Bucky fell into a routine of sneaking between bedrooms after everyone else had gone to sleep.

It was inexplicable, but the two of you just seemed to sleep so much better in each other's company. At first, Bucky had to wake you up and calm you down a couple times a night, but it really wasn’t long before you started sleeping through the night.

Between having him in your life, having your dream job and having the brand new feeling of being consistently well-rested, everything in your life finally felt like it was falling into place.

---

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[reincarnated70sbaby]

star crossed

-chapter one-

jimmy page x fem!OC

warnings: none!

A/N: so I’ve been toying with this idea for a while, and I’ve finally felt inspired enough to put it in motion!!

words: 2.4k (🤨)

star crossed masterlist

next chapter>>

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

Fresh off the success of Led Zeppelin, the namesake band were already quick to get back into the studio and start recording material for a new album.After a long eight months of non-stop touring, the band already had a sizeable amount of rough demos, all written on the road or between concerts.

On a warm day in September, they reached Mystic Studios, and were finally able to transform the songs from paper to production. Arriving at the studio early, the band entered, not knowing what to expect as the manager and owner of the small studio, Tom, was quite vague on the equipment available.

“Finally, that car ride took fucking years” Bonzo complained, after being stuck in the small vehicle for almost an hour straight in the balmy Los Angeles climate.

“God damned Yankee traffic, they should really fix that, I mean, how is it normal to add an hour to your commute time every day?” Robert inquired, getting out of the sleek, black car.

“We’ll we’re here now, let’s just get down to recording eh?” Jonesy stated, ever being the optimist.

They walked through the wide double doors, upon which they met Tom. Jonesy, Bonzo and Robert chatted shortly with Tom, before continuing on with the tour of the studio. Jimmy, having been napping in the car ride, was stretching his legs while his band mates were entering the studio. When he entered, he collided with a flock of red hair, the owner of which stared up at him in shock.

“Uh, s-sorry Mr Page, didn’t see you there, hope your ok” Alice stuttered, unaware that the famous band were arriving this early in the morning.

“I would hope you’re ok, after all you’re the one who ended up on the floor” Jimmy chuckled, extending a hand to the young woman, Alice taking it and rearranging her disorganised stack of paper in her hands.

“Thank you, Mr Page” Alice replied, avoiding Jimmy’s eyes in embarrassment.

“Please, call me Jimmy, no need for the formalities” Jimmy replied coolly, slightly intrigued by the aura of mystery that surrounded her.

“Yeah okay, Jimmy, I should uh get going” Alice said with a smile, while pointing to a random direction behind her, her legs kicked into action and she walked quickly to the back office.

Jimmy stood there for a brief moment, liking how his name sounded in her voice, before getting his head straight and navigating his way to the recording booth.

“Ah, there he is, the famous Jimmy Page!” Tom declared as soon as Jimmy entered the mod room connected to the booth.

The rest of the band rolled their eyes, most publicists and managers often overly praised the guitarist, aware of his famous temperament and trying to stay in the good side.

Finally, once introductions and navigation were over, the band could finally start the recording process. They started off with a bit of a loose sesh, playing random riffs and melodies that came to them in the moment, as well as prepared verses and choruses written on the road. Then they decided to begin recording ‘The Lemon Song’.

Upon hearing the song playing, deciding since all of her small errands and messages were complete, Alice walked into the mod room.

“Hello, Alice, how y’a doing this morning?” Tom questioned, his heavy southern accent reverberating through the soundproofed room.

“Great, how’s the band? They sound great” Alice replied, still not sure of what to think of Tom, this only being her third week as an intern in the studio. She desperately needed the money, it was actually good pay considering all the work she did all day, part- receptionist, part assistant, part cleaner.

“Pretty good honey, now will you go get me a coffee from the store down the street? Two sugars and cream please” Tom commanded, obviously not up for conversation at the minute. Alice rolled her eyes behind his back, wishing she could be a bit more involved with the recording process. It was her dream after all, to be a sound engineer. That’s why she moved out to L.A, leaving everything and everyone she knew behind at home.

Walking down to the diner down the block, Ellie collected Toms usual of coffee and bagel with cream cheese, the order she knew by heart at this point. Wondering if the band would like coffee, she decided against it incase they weren’t on break yet. Knowing the work with of rockstars, they might only take a break at 10pm once they got into the groove of recording.

Returning to Mystic, Alice walked through the reception , straight to to mod room. When she entered, they entire band, along with the recent arrival of their infamous manager, Peter Grant, were all situated around the room, conversing over the song playing over.

“Working hard or hardly working boys, Hmm?” Alice quipped before handing Tom his coffee, before exiting.

“Who was that? I met her briefly today but I didn’t get anything out her” Jimmy inquired to Tom.

“Oh, that’s Alice, she’s our intern, great little thing, always round to help if anybody needs it” Tom replied curtly, looking up from the mixing table.

“Hmm, quite the looker isnt she eh?” Robert joked, noticing how bright her eyes went when she saw all the band in the control room.

“If you say so, but we keep it professional in this studio boys” Tom instructed, his fatherly side coming out, after all he did feel a bit responsible for Alice. If she didn’t get the job he could’ve only assumed that she would be out on the streets.

“Ah just some fun and games Tom, we’re very professional, as you know yourself” Bonzo joked, knowing he would only flirt with her as a joke, he was married after all.

“Right enough chatter about the bird, let’s get back to recording” Peter demanded, not there for gossiping.

———————————

The following days ensued similarly, the boys would record a track, dissect it in the booth, before recording any new ideas or improvements. The band often stayed early into the morning hours, determined to finish a song, not matter how long it took.

Once Alice arrived early the next week, Tom immediately asked for his usual order in the diner. On returning however, Tom asked Alice to stay in the control room.

“Alice, thank you for this” Tom said, gesturing to the coffee on the table, realising only recently that he wasn’t the nicest to Alice. Determined to work on the friendship with her, he decided it would best if she got more experience into the recording and mixing process, knowing she wanted to move into that career path.

“Of course, what did you want me for” Alice asked, unsure of her boss’s newfound friendliness.

“We’ll Alice, I’m just going to be straight with you here for a moment” Tom started, looking her in teh eyes with a stern face. Alice gulped, fearing she was going to be fired. She couldn’t fathom why though, she thought she did everything perfectly. Maybe she got his coffee order wrong and ordered it wrong each time? Maybe they didn’t need her anymore? She couldn’t understand that possibility, as the office was a lot more organised and certainly cleaner, after her arrival.

“Uhm, sure?” Alice replied uncertainly, not sure where the conversation was going.

“Well Alice” Alice gulped. “I know I haven’t been the friendliest to you, and I am aware of your aspirations to become a sound engineer, am I correct” Alice nodded quickly, keeping her eyes on Toms. “I am very thankful for everything you do in this studio, you are the backbone of us here, always picking up the grunt work when It needs to be done” Alice released a deep sigh, thankful that she wasn’t going to be fired.

“Oh phew, thank god, uh yeah, no thank you for keeping me on” Alice replied releasing a quick sigh.

“Keeping you on? You didn’t think I was going to fire you was I? Oh god Alice, I’m sorry for making you feel anxious, I could see you were getting a bit agitated” Tom said, trying to calm down the redhead.

“Thank god, anyway, you were saying” Alice continued, curious to know where he was going with his spiel.

“Oh yes, uh, where was I? Right, yes I want to break you into the engineering side of this job, if that’s ok with you. I’ll teach you the basics later, but you’ll be learning on your feet okay? It might be a bit overwhelming, to put it nicely, at first, with all the jargon and knowledge. But soon you’ll catch on, you’re a very bright girl so I know it won’t take too long” Tom finished, hoping he didn’t sound to brash.

“Oh my god, I can’t uh, thank you! I really appreciate this Tom, it’s my dream, wow!” Alice excitedly replied, finally happy to get down with the business. She sprung to her feet, and flew her arms around Tom. He didn’t really know what to do, but nevertheless he hugged her back, happy they were on an amiable relationship.

“Okay, uh, hate to say this, but could you just bring me in the extra tapes in the back room, then we can start the whole process when you get back, before the band get in obviously. Once they are in you will just shadow me ok?” Tom requested.

“Yeah of course, I’ll go get those now, anything else” Alice asked, not really wanted to do any more errands after weeks of doing them, but still being polite.

“No that should be fine” Tom answered, resisting the urge to ask her to get him a donut. He just reminded himself that it would be good to have a second engineer in the room, especially one he could train with his liking.

Alice walked to the back storage room, looking for more tapes. On entry, a small box on the bottom shelf caught her eye. On the top of the box ‘FRAGILE’ was printed in dark red letter. It looked like it hadn’t been touched in years, with the amount of dust covering it. Swiping away the dust on the label, it read ‘THEREMIN’. Alice eyes widened, she had heard of this instrument when in school, but hadn’t seen one in real life, as they were hard to master and not in fashion with any music genre currently.

Re-entering the mod room, she placed the extra tapes on the large table at the back of the room. Sitting down on the large swivel chard beside Tom, he started explaining the control board to her, as well and slang for certain keys and nobs. He continued until the band arrived, around 30 minutes later. Tom requested Alice stay in the control room, feeling she could be of benefit. Checking over her notes, she began to familiarise with the huge board. There must have been around 100 nobs and switches, all with different functions. Tom was impressed with Alice’s intellect, she responded well and added thoughtful questions about the mixing process. Tom could tell within a week she would be well roped into the process.

Taking a break, the band, Alice, Tom and Peter all sat down for lunch in teh small break room. There was only two tables so they conjoined them and ate together. Conversation flowed easily, everyone exchanging funny stories from the business, touring and random tidbits of memories.

“And I was sitting there with a frozen banana smoothie all down my front, absolutely frozen - I mean what are you supposed to do when you tell a girl no to her invitation to you coming back to her house, in god knows where, then she throws an fucking smoothie at you” Robert stated exasperatedly finishing off his sandwich

“Come on Rob, that was nearly five months ago, you would’ve thought you’d have forgotten it by now” Peter joked with a gently shove to Robert.

“Yeah I know, still gives me nightmares at night” Robert answered while playfully rolling his eyes.

“Same thing happened to me Robert, except, it was my wife and she was giving out shit to me for missing my daughter Grace’s dance recital” Tom added.

“Um, actually Tom, you missed Hannah’s recital, Graces is on next week. I think the handprint Cheryl left on the back of your head was a cute accessory hm?” Alice added, casually calling Tom out on his bluff.

The entire table went quite before bursting out in laughter. Alice panicked for a moment, fearing she went too far but calmed when they all laughed, joining in too.

“The bird is English? Why didn’t you tell us Tom?” Bonzo asked, directing his eyes to Alice.

“Excuse you, the bird is sitting right here” Alice said, pointing to herself.

“Well I thought you would’ve picked up on it by now John” Tom replied.

“Well uh, the drums, y’know” Bonzo answered, shaking his hands around his ears with a smirk plastered on his face. He was actually quite embarrassed that he overlooked her that much, she seemed like a talented girl behind the booth screen.

“Where you from love” Jonesy enquired kindly to Alice, opening up the conversation to her again.

“Well, I’m from a small village beside Heston. I used to live in France til I was five, as my mother is French” Alice replied with a smile, Jonesy was the one she talked to the most.

“Well would you look at that. How small the world is, you and Jim being from the same place. Mad world Hmm? How did someone from Heston like you end up in the city of angels?” Peter enquired, finding the whole situation rather funny, both Alice and Jimmy going slightly red.

“Um, I finished school at sixteen and moved out her shortly after, and have been here since” Alice answered, slightly embarrassed that she didn’t know she was reared in the same town as Jimmy Page.

“So you must be what, around 20 something?” Robert asked.

“No, I actually just turned 36 last month, I guess I look younger that I am” said Alice, trying to keep a straight face. She was met with dumbfounded faces of the Zeppelin lads. The boys looked between her and Tom, who kept his expression neutral, running with the joke.

“Gosh, you don’t look it’s, that’s for sure” Robert interrupted, still hoodwinked by the new information.

All of Alice’s self control was lost, she and Tom both bursting out simultaneously, wiping away tears after a coupole minutes of gut laughter.

“Of course I don’t, I’m only 18 for gods sake!”

“Right, enough small talk, let’s plan the songs you wanna record next” Tom interjected, stewing the conversation back to business.

“Well I think we should start with Whole Lotta Love and see how it goes” Jimmy piped up, only now joining the conversation, previously he had being staring at Alice, trying to place her as she looked familiar.

“Yeah I agree, that one probably needs the most work” Bonzo added, happy to get down to the complicated track.

Various forms of agreement were sounded from the rest of the band and staff. When they had finished up they all returned, energised to continue the recording the album.

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

navigation

star crossed masterlist

ok so first chapter! this was going to be a prologue but I think I’ll just add another chapter before we time skip!!

again, please feel free to leave any criticism in the comments!! if anyone has any ideas or plot points they think would work, just message me and I’ll see what we can do!!

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

ask me if you want to be added!

[jimlingss]

Sugar and Coffee [8]

Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 - Chapter 9

➜ Words: 3.3k

➜ Genres: 99.5% Fluff, 0.5% Angst, Pâtisserie school!AU

➜ Summary: It isn't hard to be a pâtisserie chef, but it's not a piece of cake either. It seems like for you in particular, life keeps throwing in one wrench after another. It always finds ways to make your sweets bitter. The cherry on top is Jeon Jungkook — a rival with a sensitive sweet tooth who always finds ways to complain about you.

cr.

You always thought you would be happy to see him again.   To come face to face with the man who you miss the most — who you’ve yearned to see so much. Like reuniting with a close friend who you’ve lost contact with. Like rediscovering a piece of yourself that you had lost.   But you didn’t know it would be so painful. That your heart would be so heavy.   “H-hey.”   “Hey.” Seokjin smiles and your heart stutters but then constricts. It’s hard to breathe. “Are you on your way to class?”   You hold your books closer to your chest as if they could do anything to protect you. Your eyes sweeping over his features, trying to freshen your memories of him. You can’t recall the last time you heard the sound of his voice. “Y-Yeah. Are you?”   “I’m on my way to the library to meet up with some people for a group project,” he says casually with a good-natured smile.   “Oh. A group project already?”   “Yeah, I know right.” Jin sighs lightly, lips falling into a slight pout. “Well it’s my last ever semester, so it’s the last push.”   “Totally. I...get it.”   “I should go now before I’m late. It was nice seeing you, Y/N.”   You nod and without waiting a beat, he brushes past you, continuing down the hall.   You hate it. The way he looked at you, talked to you so nonchalantly, how he didn’t even blink thrice. Jin was friendly, but you know him — and he treated you the way he treats strangers. There weren't any softened gazes, gentle words. None of his actions had a trace of lingering feelings. His polite smile is the same one that’s reserved for mere acquaintances. Distant.   You’re no less than a stranger to him.   And as you watch Jin’s backside fading down the corridor, you quickly wipe away the tears that shed down your cheeks.   //   “You ran into him?”   You nod, toying with the hem of your sweater.   “That’s great news,” Jungkook murmurs from the corner of his mouth, preoccupied with choosing a game.   “Yeah, I know, right?” You're stiff, but he doesn't pay enough attention to notice.   You’re sitting on the floor of Jungkook’s dorm room, knees gathered together as you watch him set up. He’s finally cleaned up after you insulted him that he was a pig living in a pigsty, and he was offended enough to clean up after himself and do his laundry.   Jungkook switches on his PS4 and flops down on his small couch with the controller. He glances up at you when there’s ongoing silence and realizes he should say something more.   “That means there’s hope, right? If he’s willing to talk to you and all. I know a lot of exes who would run in the other direction.”   “Yeah. That’s true, I guess.”   Jungkook is optimistic. “If you keep talking to him, who knows, you might get back together before you even realize.”   There’s a loud knock on the door, someone’s fist banging on the surface. The boy in his gray sweatpants and black, boxy shirt sighs, gets up and opens the door. The person on the other side glares at him. “Dude, about fucking time. Was standing out there for an eternity.”   “Shut up, I literally took ten seconds.”   “Yea, but ten seconds we could’ve used playing. Hey, Y/N!” Hoseok grins, plopping down on the couch and stealing Jungkook’s controller. Jimin follows in, greeting you with a smile, and Taehyung and Yoongi are the last with the former harshly nudging the latter forward.   “Alright, alright,” Yoongi grunts quietly and then faces you with his hands dug into his hoodie pocket. “Y/N. I wanted to apologize for my behaviour last time.” He looks less sorry and more disgruntled and reluctant, but it’s enough to amuse you.   You snort. “It’s no big deal.”   “Okay, cool.” Yoongi exhales and sits beside you.   Taehyung shakes his head but redirects his attention to Jimin when he steals his favourite controller. “Hey, hey, hey, paws off, bro.”   “What?”   “That’s mine.”   “Who says?”   “I wrote my name at the back in pencil. Look. See?”   “You wrote on my controller?” Jungkook is outraged, snapping into their argument.   In the meanwhile, Yoongi scrolls through his phone and notices you’re blankly staring at Jungkook's old flat screen — the one he stole from his parent’s home months ago and somehow set it up here. “I meant it.”   “What?”   “I know it looked like Taehyung made me,” Yoongi mumbles, “Which he did. But I meant to apologize anyway. Eventually. I know I’m an ass.”   “You’re an honest one,” you admit with a small smile. If there was anyone who was going to be frank and truthful, it would be Yoongi. He won’t sugar coat it, won’t string pretty words together to make you feel better, so that’s why you pick him to inquire, “Can I ask you a question, Yoongi?”   “Sure.”   “Do you think I’ll ever be able to get back together with Jin?”   “No.” His gaze connects with yours. “You won’t. Usually people break up for a reason and that reason always stands.”

Two weeks pass by as you ignore the thoughts lingering in the back of your mind. You overlook it like an assignment on your desk that needs to be done or like that messy drawer you should clean out but keep procrastinating on. And it’s easy to distract yourself when the entire school is stirred.   Of course it would be. After all, the most competitive holiday was coming up.   “What are you going to make for Valentines?”   “Me?” You blink. “I don’t know. I haven’t really thought about it yet….”   The atmosphere hyped — even the dining hall is louder, the air buzzing.   The holiday simply dedicated to love has long been replaced by alumni years ago and became a competition. After all, this was the place where everyone could make sweets after all. No longer was Valentine chocolates simply melting chocolate from the store and pouring them into molds — every single person here can properly judge the quality, taste, texture, flavour, and the presentation.   According to rumours, the tradition started between three people, specifically when a girl told her two potential suitors that she would become the Valentine of whoever baked better. It sounds like some ridiculous Shakespearean tragedy, but as people went head to head to win the affections of their crushes — it essentially evolved into a competition.   And at this point, it doesn’t matter who gives it to who. It’s who bakes it better.   “I’m still debating if I want to do raspberry possets or raspberry religieuse,” Taehyung hums, chin resting in his propped up hand, and he turns to his side. “Which one do you like, Yoongi?”   “Why the fuck do you care what I like?”   “Well obviously because I’m going to make it for you,” he giggles.   Yoongi glares. “Fuck off.”   “Who else am I supposed to give it to? You have no one, I have no one.”   “What about Jimin?” you ask, trying to hold back laughter with said brunette.   “He has his mom.”   “Hey,” Jimin whines, “I have the Valentine’s Day fundraiser at the hospital this year too.”   “So you’re not going to make anything for your mom?” he deadpans.   “Well, no.” Jimin pouts. “I’m going to make her red velvet cupcakes.”   “Don’t make fun of him,” you chide Taehyung and turn to the other. “That’s really cute, Jimin.”   Jimin grins, eyes crinkling into half moons. “Don’t worry, Taehyung can say whatever he wants. He’s just jealous my mom’s the best. She raised me all on her own and I wouldn’t be here without her.”   “Okay, I’ll admit she’s really nice,” Taehyung has a dreamy expression. “I miss her warm hugs.”   “That’s weird,” Jimin deadpans, pleasant smile switching into a face of comical disgust. “Don’t talk about my mom like that, dude.”   You laugh and look over at the sleepy man lazily chewing on his mac and cheese. It’s always funny to watch Yoongi eat. He looks physically pained to chew and swallow — you wonder if he would blend all of his food to just drink it if he could. “Are you going to make anything, Yoongi?”   “No. Who would I give it to?” He ignores Taehyung when he exclaims ‘me’.   You direct your attention to Hoseok and he shrugs. “I might...make lemon and poppy seed cupcakes or strawberry rhubarb shortbread bars.”   “For who?” Jungkook asks, brows raised.   “Uh, no one.” But it’s obvious that the answer is too suspicious, so he gives in with a sigh. “I owe Y/N’s friend, Aeri, a favour, so I’ll probably make something for her.”   “Ooh, I haven’t heard you talk about Y/N’s friend before.” Taehyung leans in closer, eyes glistening.   “Shut up,” Hoseok quips. “What about you, Y/N?”   “I...haven’t decided if I will or not. Maybe I’ll make something for Jin.”   Yoongi’s eyes flicker up, brow cocking, and you stare back at him blankly.   Jimin catches the quick exchange and intercepts. “You should tell Jungkook to make you his chocolate-covered strawberry cupcakes.”   “Holy fuck, I remember those!” Taehyung slaps the table, startling both you and Jungkook. “Those was so fucking delicious, I thought I was going to cream my pants when I ate them. I can still taste it.” He slurps up the spit that’s accumulated in his mouth.   Jungkook’s nose wrinkles. “No. It’s too much work to make that.”   Taehyung bats his lashes. “You wouldn’t make it for us?”    “That’s an even harder no.”   “Psh. Valentine’s Day hater.”   “Fuck off. It’s not my fault that the holiday is stupid.”   “You just hate it because you’re alone.” You pat your friend on the back. “It’s okay, Jungkook. You’ll find love someday.”   “Okay, fuck you too,” he spits without much malice, making Yoongi smirk.   “Jungkook just knows his small package can’t satisfy any man or woman.”   Yoongi’s insult rouses laughter from everyone and the man being grilled has his brows shot to his hairline. “For your information, I have a substantial size and I’m probably bigger than everyone here. Especially you, Mr. five foot nine.”   You blanch. “Gross.”    But while Yoongi doesn’t seem injured by the retort, Jimin’s the one who’s sitting straight and he whines, “Why do you have to bring height into this?”   They ignore him in favour of Taehyung’s questioning, “Really? Bigger than everyone here?”   “Okay fine.” Jungkook points at Taehyung. “Except you.”   You look between the pair of them. “Did you guys have a dick measuring contest or what?”   “We will not speak of the past,” Jungkook deadpans, making you laugh even more.   //   You know that you shouldn’t. With what Yoongi’s told you, with what you know yourself, you shouldn’t go out of your way to do something so unnecessary. You shouldn’t put your heart on your sleeve to get hurt again when it’s not going to be worth it. But in your life, there've been a thousand shouldn’ts and you’ve always grasped onto the one should.   It never hurts you to try, and that’s how you’ve made it this far.   “Hey, Jeon.” You catch up to him. Jungkook’s legs are unbearably longer than yours and when he walks fast it puts you out of breath within seconds.    Luckily, he sees you and has the decency to slow down. “What?”   “I need your help.” Jungkook’s steps slow even more until he outright stops in the middle of the hallway. He looks so apprehensive, you have an urge to slap that expression off his face. “Hey! It’s not like I’m not going to ask you to kill someone for me!”   “Yeah, well, the last time you asked for a favour, we destroyed a kitchen trying to temper chocolate. I’d rather you kill me, thank you very much.”   “Pretty please? Promise it’s not bad.”   “Ew, ew. Don’t look at me like that and stop pouting, you’re not cute.”   You frown at him. “Look it’s not a huge, huge thing, promise.”   “What is it?”   “Well, you’re Jungkook, World’s Best Chocolatier, right?” You nudge him with your elbow and it only makes him more suspicious with how you’re thickly laying down the praise. “And you know chocolate hates me. I definitely don’t know about it as well as you do either, so I need you to bestow your gifts onto me—”   “What is it, lady? Get a move on! I don’t have all day.”   “Can you help me make something for Jin?”   Jungkook pauses. He stares at you. Maybe his brain finally died — not like there is anything to die considering it’s always been a little on the empty side. But then he finally opens his mouth. “What are you planning?”   “Just something simple. Like truffles. What do you think?”   Jungkook hesitates, then he looks at you. “Fine.”   “Really?”   “Yeah, yeah.”   He waves his hand away, but you grin at him. “You know you’re my best friend, right, Jungkook?”   “Yeah, well, it’s something I never really signed up for,” your best friend mutters and continues walking while telling you that you’ll owe him and that means more notes from multiple lectures. But it’s worth it.   On the fourteenth, right on Valentine’s Day, you meet with Jungkook.   He audibly sighs when he sees you tie up the back of your apron. “What?”   “Nothing. I just can’t believe I’m spending Valentine’s with you.”   “I thought you didn’t care about the holiday.”   “I don’t. But that still doesn’t mean this isn’t lame. Whatever. The quicker we get this done, the quicker I can leave and avoid all this.” He motions around, but you know what he means.   Love is in the air and it’s sickening — couples were holding hands, kissing each other on the tips of their noses, rubbing their cheeks against one another, dialing up the PDA to an uncomfortable amount. But you can’t blame them. You and Seokjin were once like that.   “Do you know how to make ganache?”   “Do I know how to make ganache,” you mimic him mockingly. “Of course I do! What am I, an idiot?!”   “Well, you didn’t know how to temper chocolate so you tell me.”   You glare at him. You would mouth off but can’t risk him storming out.   The two of you gather the eight ounce semi-sweet chocolate, a half cup of whipping cream, cocoa powder and some vanilla. Jungkook helps you heat the cream to a simmer in a small saucepan, looking over your shoulder at every step along the way. While you’d usually mind the way he’s intruding in your personal bubble, you don’t want to get anything wrong.   “Make sure it doesn’t burn.”   “It’s not going to burn.”   “You said that last time.”   You snap. “Keep bringing up last time and this will be the last time you step into the kitchen, Jeon.” A second later, you’re begging Jungkook not to leave. But thankfully, he has enough mercy and lets you off with a warning.   The pair of you continue making the ganache, placing the chocolate in a bowl before pouring the cream and adding the vanilla to it. You allow it to stand for a few minutes before stirring it into a smooth, deep mixture.   You place the ganache in the fridge for half an hour to chill. In the meanwhile, you clean up the mess and wash whatever dishes you have. Jungkook, on the other hand, shows you Yoongi’s reaction of Taehyung proposing to him with some cupcakes in front of campus in which the former man straight out walks away.    Jimin who’s filming is giggling hard enough that the camera is unsteady, but his laughter is infectious and makes the both of you grin. Jungkook says he’s glad he wasn’t there lest Taehyung turned to him and started to declare his fake affections and cause a crowd to gather. Apparently it’s happened before.   When the ganache is ready, Jungkook helps you roll it into balls and dust with cocoa powder. You pull out a box you had prepared to place them in, and you could not be prouder when it’s complete.   It looks like a product that you could buy in-store. Simple yet elegant.   “All done.”   “All done,” you repeat after him, viewing your final product. Chocolate doesn’t hate you so much when you’re with Jungkook, you realize.   “He’ll love it.”   “Yeah….”   You can imagine it — calling out Jin’s name. He’d spin around, regard you with his surprise. You’d extend your arms to give him the box. You’d try to show through this small gesture that you still love him, but you wouldn’t speak the words in case the moment would be ruined. But with your courage mustered, you’d tell him that you miss him in your life. That you don’t want to be strangers anymore. Whether that means remaining friends or being lovers again.   But you know that it’s just your fantasy.   A delusion — your optimistic imagination running wild with the semblances of hope still left within you. A sweet dream you would have in your slumber only to wake up to reality. The grief of your heartbreak morphed into a wishful thinking. The image and scenario you’ve constructed in your mind is simply part of a chapter in your life that would never happen.   “He wouldn’t take it,” you whisper.    It's a truth that’s hard to face, that you’ve been running from and turning yourself blind to.    But you know Seokjin. After nearly two years together, you know the kind of polite smile he gives to strangers. You know how he treats acquaintances. You know when he’s being distant, how he acts when things don’t matter to him anymore. And you know that— “He wouldn’t….”   He would never take this.    He would never accept the chocolates you’ve made on Valentine’s. You would never be able to muster the courage to tell him how much you miss him. And he would never agree to being friends after your extensive history together.    Your head lowers, and tears drip down your cheeks. Jungkook is rendered speechless but you feel his hand on your shoulder. He squeezes comfortingly.   You sniffle, wiping your face with the back of your hand, and you take a truffle to throw into your mouth. You chew in your cheek and look at Jungkook with your reddened, teary eyes. “I-If he won’t eat it, we should.”   That’s how you end up on the floor of the kitchen with Jungkook beside you.    The two of you are leaning against the kitchen island, hidden away from the window of the door and any intrusive eyes peering through. The tips of your fingers are stained with melted chocolate — the fruits of your labour gone in an instant.   The realization sinks in. After months of what you’ve tried to keep a hold on it. Having hoped aimlessly that you could change this back around. What had shattered into sand and slipped between your fingertips, but you tried to catch it again. It hits you in an instant.    Harder than it ever has.   “It’s really over, isn’t it, Jungkook?” you ask in a murmur, in a broken voice. “It’s over.”   The relationship ended. Any form of a relationship with Seokjin is gone forevermore.   Jungkook turns his head, gazing at your profile. He pats you on the back.   He’s learnt long ago that he wasn’t very good at speaking, but that his words don’t mean as much as his actions do.   So in silence, Jungkook eats the truffles with you. It’s not bad, he muses internally. You’re getting better at chocolate despite how you never had a knack for it. Well, technically he made them but whatever, your effort still means something.   He chews and keeps to himself how the chocolate truffle strangely tastes sweet and bitter, like both sugar and black coffee.

[pufflyhallows]

Butterbeer

Gif not mine

Pairing: Oliver Wood x reader

Summary: Oliver is feeling down with the result of the last game, so the Hogsmeade trip doesn’t seem too exciting until his friend takes him to an interesting shop.

a/n: I realized I had never written anything with a Hufflepuff reader, which is absurd! XD

Warnings: language

Word count: 2,412

********

Oliver was not happy. 

Harry Potter had been unconscious in the hospital wing for the recent Gryffindor versus Ravenclaw match, in which Gryffindor suffered their worst defeat in three hundred years.

Of course Oliver worried about his friend’s health and he was glad that Harry was perfectly fine now, but the weight of the defeat upon his shoulders was too much. He was the captain, after all. He knew he was the first one to blame and he knew everyone in Hogwarts was talking about it, especially the Slytherins.

For that reason, he wasn’t too excited about the last Hogsmeade trip of the year, unlike his friends, who couldn’t stop talking about it in the common room as they got ready to go out.

“I’m gonna buy as many boxes of Chocolate Frogs as possible,” Noah said as he counted his money, “I don’t wanna wait the entire summer to eat those again.”

“Sometimes I forget you’re a muggleborn,” Riley thought out loud.

“I can send you more if you run out,” Leo patted Noah on the shoulder.

“Thanks, mate.”

“Can we go now?” Oliver asked impatiently.

Noah and Leo looked at each other finding strange their friend’s behavior, but Riley understood very well why Oliver wasn’t quite happy that day.

“Yes, we can,” she replied, standing up and motioning for the boys to go with her. And they did.

Hogsmeade looked just the same as it did on their previous visit. Nothing had really changed, except maybe for the weather. It was slightly hotter now.

“There he goes,” Leo pointed discretely at Percy, who had just entered Madam Puddifoot's Tea Shop with his girlfriend Penelope.

Noah smirked, shaking his head. “That’s why he was in such a hurry.”

“Let the boy live,” Riley chuckled, “Where do you guys wanna go first?”

“Honeydukes! I need my Chocolate Frogs,” Noah patted on his pocket, where his money was.

Riley thought Oliver would protest, but the boy didn’t seem to be on the same planet as them. She knew where his mind was and she felt bad for him, hoping the crowded shop would cheer him up somehow.

But it didn’t.

“Where do we go now?” Noah asked with a full mouth as the four friends left Honeydukes.

“Zonko’s?” Leo proposed.

“Sure.”

“Oh, I actually want to go to Tomes and Scrolls,” Riley said, pointing at the bookstore across the street.

“I can go with you,” Oliver offered, finally saying something since they got there and making Riley a little bit more optimistic.

“He can go with you,” Leo repeated, “Noah and I will meet you there later. It might take a while, though.”

“It’s okay. See you later then,” the girl waved and the two boys left towards the joke shop, leaving her alone with Oliver. “Let’s go?”

He nodded, following her to the store he had never paid attention to before. 

As they got in, Oliver realized it was way bigger than what it looked like from outside. The shop was completely filled with books of all kinds, shapes and colors. Of course his eyes landed on Quidditch Through The Ages, exposed on a shelf by the door. He inevitably sighed, looking away from it and going further into the store. He did not need a reminder of his failure at that moment.

Riley wasn’t searching for anything specific, she said. She liked to just go there and walk around until something caught her attention, so Oliver decided to do the same. 

They parted ways, each of them heading to a different side of the store, and the boy started reading the books’ titles as he walked through the tall shelves, hoping something interesting would come into sight.

He could understand why he had never paid attention to that store before or why it wasn’t as full as Honeydukes. Unfortunately, despite having a nice variety of books, that shop looked abandoned and slightly dirty. But he could also understand why Riley liked it so much. It strangely felt like home.

A bell rang from the entrance, announcing that someone had just come in. Oliver looked at the door curiously, feeling instantly glad he had done so. Standing by the first shelves, two girls talked to each other quietly as one of them pointed at a book with a yellow cover. Oliver’s eyes could not drift away from the girl on the left, wearing a navy blue coat and nodding at whatever her friend was saying about the yellow book. Her beauty illuminated the dusty, sad environment, bringing back the life Oliver knew it once had. 

He gulped, his heart growing a warm feeling. The girl was holding a small package in her hands, which he could bet was a chocolate bar from Honeydukes, and he suddenly felt the urge to know what she liked to do in her free time, what was her favorite Quidditch team (if she even liked the sport at all), favorite book genre, favorite drink, her favorite song, her name... Who was that girl?

When the two new visitors started walking further into the shop, consequently closer to where he was, Oliver grabbed the first book he saw and opened it at a random page, pretending to be highly interested in the words written there.

The navy blue coat girl waved at someone behind him, a shy smile on her face that made Oliver’s cheeks heat up. He turned around slowly and a mixture of euphoria with total shock took over him as he saw Riley waving back. 

He did not waste a second before walking up to her. 

“Who is that girl?” he asked urgently, not caring if he sounded too demanding.

“She’s a Hufflepuff, a year below us. Why?” Riley frowned at her friend’s urgency.

“How do you know her?”

“She helped me in the bathroom once if you know what I mean. Kindest person I’ve ever met, to be honest.”

“What’s her name?”

“I’m not sure, but I think it’s Y/N.”

“You’re not sure?!”

“It was a long time ago, Oliver. Why are you asking me all these questions?” she raised an eyebrow at him.

“How have I never seen her before?” 

“I don’t know,” Riley shrugged, “But you didn’t answer me.”

“She’s...” Oliver looked at the other side of the store, where Y/N was. “She’s so beautiful.”

“Ohh...” Riley smirked, “I see.”

Oliver kept staring at the girl with a dreamy look on his face, making Riley laugh. That was completely adorable. And new! She had never seen him like that before.

“Let’s go talk to her,” she proposed.

“What?!” he looked at his friend, “No way.”

“Why not?!”

“What am I going to say?”

“’Hi, my name is Oliver, nice to meet you?’” 

“Then what?”

“I’ll help you, c’mon.”

“Riley...”

“Come on.”

Riley pulled her friend gently by the arm towards the two girls on the other side of the store. Oliver felt his heart race increase instantly and his stomach get cold. He hoped his face wasn’t red, but it probably was.

“Hey, Y/N,” Riley risked, praying she had gotten the name right. The navy blue coat girl turned around and smiled.

“Hey, Riley! It’s been a while, how are you?”

“I’m good! I’ve heard about your dad’s promotion on the Ministry. Congrats!”

“Thank you! We’re really happy,” Y/N blushed slightly. “Oh, this is my friend Jade.”

The other girl held out her hand with a polite smile, “Nice to meet you, Riley.”

“Nice to meet you too, Jade,” Riley shook her hand, “This is Oliver.” 

“Hi,” he said, shaking Jade’s hand as well.

“Oh, we know Oliver,” Y/N said, making his heart stop completely as he and Riley shared a surprised look. “You’re the Gryffindor captain, right? We watched the game last week.”

Oh no. Riley bit her lower lip nervously.

“Yes, I am,” he nodded, “And I’m sorry you had to see that.”

“Well, you guys made history,” Jade said. 

“Jade,” Y/N elbowed her friend discretely.

“It’s okay,” Oliver reassured Y/N, “She’s right, we did.”

“Miss Allen?” the owner of the shop called from behind the counter. 

“That’s me,” Jade explained, “Excuse me.”

As the girl left towards the man who had called her, Riley saw the opportunity to give Oliver a little push. 

“Oh, I didn’t know Mr. Bennett was here today. I’ll be right back.”

And she headed to the counter as well, leaving Oliver completely alone with Y/N.

“So...” he said, clearing his throat, “You come here often?”

Fucking hell, man. She was probably going to think that was a pick-up line.

...would it be so bad, though?

“I do, actually,” she held the small package against her chest and looked around, “This is my favorite shop in Hogsmeade. It might sound strange, but-”

“It feels like home.”

She looked at him, slightly stunned.

“Exactly,” the girl nodded.

“I get it, even though this is my first time here. It’s a pity I took this long to notice it.”

“Well, it does have a discrete facade,” she smiled kindly at the thought of Mr. Bennett decorating it.

“Yeah,” was all Oliver managed to say. He felt completely lost in her smile and didn’t seem to be able to form any more words.

Y/N noticed the small pause, but the cause of it was unknown to her. 

“So, how’s Harry Potter?” she asked to break the silence, “Is he still in the hospital wing?”

“Um... Yes. But he’s okay now, he’s awake. He’ll stay there for just a few more days.”

“I’m glad to hear that. The news scared us all, but I can only imagine what it was like for you and all of his friends. It’s very understandable what happened on the match. You guys were probably still shaken with his situation.”

“Y-Yes. We were,” Oliver agreed, surprised to find sympathy after a week of disapproval. “He was still unconscious when we played.”

“And yet, you guys gave your best. That’s admirable.”

“Thank you. Not many people seem to take that into account.”

“Well, I can’t speak for the entire school, but I can assure you that the Hufflepuffs do. Cedric even had a speech about it,” she chuckled, “Some boys were being... you know.”

“Thank you. Really,” Oliver sighed, feeling like a giant burden had been lifted from his shoulders. It was very good to know that not everyone blamed him. “You have no idea of how much I needed to hear this.”

“I do,” she put a hand on his upper arm and squeezed it gently, “But it’ll be alright. You’ll see.”

If he hadn’t been able to speak when she smiled, he wasn’t able to even breathe now that she had touched him. The feeling of it was so surreal, he couldn’t believe she existed.

“Oh, and Cedric has said countless times that the Gryffindor team is the second best in Hogwarts,” Y/N added, “After Hufflepuff, of course.”

“Of course,” Oliver chuckled, being followed by Y/N. Usually, he would disagree, but this time he let it pass. The sound of her laugh was too sweet to be interrupted.

“What I mean is that this last game won’t change the fact that you guys are really talented,” she explained, “Don’t listen to the Slytherins, you know that’s an old house rivalry.”

“Yeah...” he looked down, “I know.” 

“Can you believe they had a delay and it’s going to take another week?” Jade complained as she approached her friend.

“Oh no. And how are you going to pick it up?” Y/N asked.

“Mr. Bennett wanted to send it to me for free, but I said no. I’ll pay for the delivery, it’s not his fault,” Jade sighed, “But I wanted it now! That was the whole point of ordering it here, instead of buying it at Flourish and Blotts.”

“Yeah, that’s a shame.”

“So, let’s go?” 

“Sure,” Y/N nodded, “It was nice meeting you, Oliver. See you around?”

“Um... Actually, are you busy right now?” the boy inevitably held his breath as he took his shot.

“I’m afraid so...” Y/N looked hesitantly at Jade, who seemed like she was trying to hide a smirk. “We had planned to go to The Magic Neep now and then to Scrivenshaft's Quill Shop.”

“I can go to Scrivenshaft’s by myself, Y/N,” Jade tilted her head slightly, “You’ll be totally free after The Magic Neep.”

Oliver didn’t say anything as he waited for the two friends to come to an agreement. Y/N took a while before replying. 

“You’re right,” and she turned to face Oliver, “I’ll be free after I visit the greengrocer down the street. Why?”

“Well,” he cleared his throat, “I was thinking that maybe we could go to The Three Broomsticks to have a butterbeer and... talk. What do you think?”

Y/N gave her friend a glance, but the girl smiled encouragingly. Oliver couldn’t help but notice the light pink color that Y/N’s cheeks had suddenly acquired.

“That sounds nice,” she answered shyly, “I’d love to.”

“Great! So, see you in...?”

“Half an hour.”

“I’ll be there,” the boy smiled.

“Now, we should get going,” Jade said, “See you around, Oliver.”

“Bye,” Y/N waved at him and followed her friend outside the bookstore.

“Bye,” he whispered as he watched them leave. 

He could not describe what he was feeling at that moment. How could a girl turn a boring day into the best one he had had in a week?

“So?!” 

He jumped on the spot with the sudden voice behind him. He turned around to meet the eyes of a very excited and curious Riley.

“How was it?!”

“I have a date,” he smiled.

********

[ladyfiresfanfiction]

December Deals - Supernatural Fic - Crowley x OC

The winds blew colder than usual on that gloomy December day. The waves crashed with ferocity and brought a luke-warm mess of water and sand to my bare feet. It had been three miserable years since I lost him, but on the anniversary of his death, I always visited our secret place. The little private beach off of Orange street and first avenue. It was our hide away from our parents, our problems, and our growing sense of dread. This stretch of land could protect us from the worst pains, the saddest truths, and the darkest lies. But like a set of keys, I lost him. He was gone, without a word, and it killed me every day. I always wondered if Jay was still around. If he could actually hear me talking to him. If he maybe came to visit me at my apartment, or tried to keep me safe in tough times. I could always feel him around me. I could smell his cologne, I could hear his laugh, see those bright, adorable blue eyes. But it never lasted long. I walked along the waters edge, chilling myself to the bone in my black wifebeater and fishnet arm warmers, and those ripped up dark blue skinny jeans. The only thing that was kept the slightest bit toasty were my feet, the sand was still a bit hot from the suns powerful rays. I carried my black boots and knee high black and red striped socks in my hand while I looked out far into sea. Jay was a big part of my life. He was like the older brother I never had. He could make me laugh, protect me, surprise me in so many ways. He always had my best interests at heart and no matter what I said, or did, he never judged me, never left my side. The thought of my heartless words and childish behavior still brings tears to my eyes. The last time I saw him, I was so self absorbed and selfish to even help him, and despite the over bearing sense of desperation and need, he listened to me wail about some guy who broke up with me before he went away to college. He held me all night on the eve of my eighteenth birthday. When I left, he told me he would be over at my house bright and early for a little celebration. But he never showed up. I waited all day, swearing at him for being late. I never once thought he could have been hurt or in trouble. It only started to hit me when I remembered how sad he looked before I left. He asked me to stay the night, that something felt wrong. But all I wanted to do was try and call my ex boyfriend, see if he could come over to talk. He just gave me this optimistic smile and said "things happen for a reason, you never know what the future holds". I thought it seemed so old world of him to say things like that, but in the future, he was right. I put on my socks and shoes and stood up, slapping the sand from my jeans, and turned to the long, tall hill that would lead me back to the deserted road. I put in my earbuds and let the music of my favorite bands take me away to another time and place. Mine and Jay's favorite Tool song, "Right in Two", blared in my ear drums as I walked. I finally reached the road and, as usual, was not paying attention. I walked right into a man with dark features and dressed in a nice tailored black suit. I fell backwards and when I looked up, he stared me down. He had this mischevious smile form across his lips, and he extended his hand to help me up. Cautiously, I let him hoist me to my feet and I looked at him. "How are you, Cassidy?" he asked. "How do you-" "I just know these things." he replied in a thick british accent. I thanked him for his help and apologized for my clumsiness before turning away and walking towards my car, which was parked down the road. When I turned to see if he was still standing there, he was gone. I made it to my car, to be startled at his prescence leaning against the hood of my prized '72 cherry red mustang. "How the hell did you get here before me?" I asked. "Just fast, I guess." he replied, coyly. "Seriously, you were behind me. I would have seen if you -" "Darling, that's not important. I have a message for you." he said, waving off my questions. We stood beside my ride, and I shivered. He was taking in the sights, and then he looked in to my eyes. For a man his age, he was pretty good looking. A few inches taller than my five feet, four inches. He had a cute, chubby face, and a bit of stubble. His hair wasn't too long, and a light brown. It kind of made me want to run my fingers through it. His eyes looked like a melted chocolate, and his smile was contagious. He had a pretty nice build, too. His style looked pricey, but it looked even better on him. I felt like I was getting sized up as he continued to look at me. I felt as if his eyes were burning a hole through me, into my damn soul. I couldn't stand the quiet and I was so cold I could barely feel my fingers or my face anymore, so I cleared my throat to get his attention. Upon seeing how icy I was, he offered me his jacket. It was big on me, but it was cozy and felt great wrapped around my shoulders. He asked if he could hitch a ride, and although I was scared, I was so attracted to him I couldn't muster up the courage to tell him no. We hopped in my baby, that I named  Candy, and we sped down the street and on to the main highway. He asked if he could be dropped off at a bar that was, surprisingly, right down the street from my house, and I agreed. Puscifer's "Conditions of my Parole" blasted through the speakers and I caught him mouthing the words to the song. When the song ended and we came to a traffic jam, I turned in my seat and asked him what this so called message was, and from whom. "You know anyone named Jay Barnes?" he asked. I felt an ice cold chill run up my spine. "That was my best friends name, but.. He's been dead for three years now." I whispered. "Oh, I know. Was tradgic, really. But Jay told me to tell you that you're not at fault and to stop blaming yourself." he replied, while looking me straight in the eyes. The traffic cleared and I began speeding down the road, the man in the suit was digging his nails into the arm rests and swearing when I nearly collided into on coming cars and light poles. I swerved into another lane and went down a deserted street, about two miles from the bar, and hit the breaks, causing both of us to slam our heads against the dashboard. I frantically got out of the car and walked away a few paces. I heard him get out and jog after me. "I told the damn boy you'd react this way but he didn't want to listen." he said, grabbing my wrist. I backhanded him, leaving a red mark on his cheek. He backed away and saw that my eyes went from their usual green-hazel to a darkish, forest green. He rubbed at his aching cheek and began to speak again, weary of my random movements and frequent wheezing breaths. "I mean no harm, darling. Was just passing on a message as a favor to the kid." he said. "I don't know who in the hell you are, but my best friend did not come to you with a message from the grave! Who are you! What is your name?" I snarled. "Oh! Pardon my poor socialization skills. The names Crowley, and I'm the King of Hell." he smirked, and his eyes went to a dark black. I came to on the ground with him standing above me. My whole body was shaking and I could feel tears of fear leaking from my eyes, threatening to smudge my nearly perfect eyeliner. I backed away and he still came forward, and again, he helped me to my feet. "I'm not going to hurt you, relax." he said. "You're a.. A fucking.. Fucking.." "Spit it out, doll, I don't have all day. Yes, I'm a demon. What? Demons can't have nice clothes and be polite?" "Get the fuck away from me, or I swear I'll.. I'll.." "Shoot? Hate to break it to you but guns will only bring a bit of pain, but not death." he smiled. I was on the brink of hysteria when I took off running. The good looking stranger that was nice enough to give me his jacket was a fucking demon? And all these years I thought it was bullshit tales and lies to keep people in line. When I turned I saw my car getting smaller and smaller, but again, when I looked in front of me, he stood there and grabbed me by my waist. I screamed and kicked and scratched but he didn't let go. The last thing I remembered was begging for help, and then I blacked out. I woke up on a king sized bed with canopy curtains pulled in around it. It was dark out and I couldn't remember much. I didn't know where I was and for a split second, I thought I was in a high end hotel. But when I saw him in the doorway through the canopy, I froze. He slowly inched closer with his hands raised, signaling that he had no weapons or intentions to hurt me. I pulled the curtain back but kept the comforter pulled up to my shoulders, it felt so cold in the room. He took a seat on the edge of the bed, with his back turned to me. An overbearing desire to kiss him took over my body, but common sense screamed at me to run like hell. "I came to you because, not only did the boy ask me, but because you need help." he said softly. "Help? From a demon? HA!" I laughed. "I know this may be a bit hard, but can you please SHUT your damn TRAP and LISTEN!?" he shouted. If this would have been any other man, and any other time, I would have jumped him and let him fuck me around every corner of the earth while yelling at me, but instead I did as I was told and let him speak. "Jay is still around. He's been watching you ever since he checked out. He knows that you think it's your fault, he hears you when you talk to him. He won't leave until you realize what he did was his own choosing and no one could have stopped him. He can't be in peace until you finally let go and move on. Following so far?" he asked. "Yes, uh, sir." I spoke quietly. "Good. Now, what I am going to do will hurt but help both you and the boy. Do you want my help? Or, here's a better question; do you want Jay to move on?" he asked. "Of course, he was my brother!" I replied. "Take my hand, and hold on then." he said. I opened my eyes and saw that I was in Jay's apartment. He was downing whiskey straight from the bottle and looked like the poster boy for hell. I walked over, as if in a trance, and tried to touch his cheek. I called his name, but my efforts had gone unnoticed. "He can't see or hear you, honey. This is just a memory, so to speak." Crowley said, standing behind me. I watched as Jay looked through photo albums; they were of the two of us, his family, and then one of him and his ex fiancee, Taria. He wept and traced his fingertips over her picture, asking God why she had to die. He had struggled for six months over her death, and he never let any sadness show, but behind closed doors, I saw the emotional side of him I only wished he could have shared with me. His and Taria's song, "We're in this Together" by Nine Inch Nails played on his stereo, and the look in his eyes showed anguish and defeat. I watched him write his suicide note, take one last look at a photo of the three of us; Taria, Jay, and I, and then go into the bathroom. I followed behind, tears and shrieks escaping from me. I watched him get in the tub, now filled with hot water, and I watched him electrocute himself with his hair straightener. I cried out for him and when Crowley decided that I had seen enough, he brought us back to present day. "How could you put me through that?" I choked. "I'm sorry, Cassidy. I had to." "Why? So I wouldn't feel guilty? Well newsflash, genius; I feel even worse." I snapped. "Damn it, girl, you saw with your own eyes the pain he was going through. You saw that it had nothing to do with you, and no matter what, you couldn't save him! No one could! For fucks sake just accept it!" he barked. I sat on the bed and turned away from him. It was bad enough I was in a strange house with a member of God's public enemy number one, but I'd be damned if I let him see me cry. I laid on my side, facing a wall, and I felt the burning hot tears sting my eyes. I kept my moans to a minimum and kept as far away from him as possible. I heard him sigh and then after several minutes, felt his arm slide around my waist and pulled my back up against his body. I turned to look at him, and I saw compassion in his eyes. I didn't know what to think at this point. "Is there anyway.. I could bring him back?" I asked. "I'm sorry kid, but no." he whispered in my ear. "Please, Crowley, I'd do anything. I'd even sacrifice my soul." I pleaded. "What a nice gesture, but, still, the answer is no." he replied. I shoved him away and he fell backwards off the bed. "Well fuck you! What kind of pansy ass demon are you!?" I shrieked. "Sweetheart, you have no idea what you have just started." he said as he placed me on my back and hovered over my body. I looked up at him with curiosity. For all I know, he was about to murder me and hide the body somewhere. But instead, I just gave in to him. He was free to do whatever he wanted to me. His fingertips traced down my jawline as he leaned down and kissed my lips. They were warm and moist and sent electricity throughout my entire body. I couldn't help but moan. As the kiss grew deeper, I felt him smile into it, and his hands explored my curves. My tongue entered his mouth and I felt him begin to suck on it, it was new and exciting and made me feel like a giddy middle school girl. I felt his hands cup both sides of my face, and his own tongue began to rub against mine. He nibbled on my bottom lip and I slid my hands slowly up and down his arms, but then the reality that I was making out with a demon came in to play. I shoved him off and did a back flip off the other side of the bed, quickly throwing on my socks and boots. As I got up and made my way to the door, he stood in my way, looking down at me with eyes filled with lust and dominance. I felt my heart lodge in my throat as he grabbed me by my hips and slam me into the wall, his body pinned against mine and whispering in my ear that I was in alot of trouble and my best bet would be to let him fuck me and it wouldn't hurt... too much. I pushed back against him, trying to free myself from his grasp, but all it did was make me groan and make him press his lips hard into mine, stifling any sounds I tried to make. He yanked my hair back from my neck and let his lips wander down from my jawline, to my neck, and right along my collarbone. His kisses were rough and hard, and my knees were growing weak with each and every powerful kiss. His hands pinned my wrists into the wall, and I began to feel pain as his nails dug into my moist flesh. I was taking in short, jagged breaths while peering up to look at him. His facial expression was determined, concentrating on areas he somehow knew would make me turn to putty in his hands, and he looked as if he was happy with himself for turning me into his whore. He nipped at the sensitive areas on my neck, the last love bite drew a little blood, which he slid his tongue over. I arched into him and let out a whimper, which caught his attention. He freed my aching wrists and I jumped up in his arms, wrapping my legs around his waist. As he kissed my lips again, he banged me into the wall, grinding against me, letting me feel every inch of his body melting into mine. He turned and threw me down on the bed, in which I half heartedly tried to sit up to see what he was doing. He smiled at me, clicking his tongue against his teeth, as if wondering what his next move should be. My mind was frazzled and I was more than turned on. I needed to feel every inch of him inside of me. He slowly walked over to the bed, bending down the slightest bit so he could lick my lips and bite down hard on my bottom lip. His hands were gliding through my hair, softly playing with every soft strand as he fell on top of me. Under him I felt like I was on ecstasy; my heart was racing at the speed of light, my mind was blacking out, and my body was shaking furiously. His hands, once again, trailed down my sides, his finger tips gliding down my rib cage, and slowly his fingers hooked into my jean loops, trying to yank my pants down a tad bit. I found the strength to take off his jacket and throw it on the leather desk chair behind him, and he locked eyes with me again. "Patience," he whispered in my ear, and his hot breath on my neck made a sharp breath stick in my throat, painfully. "When I'm through with you, I'll be carrying you around for awhile." I bit my lip as his last sentence played in my mind, like a broken record. He slowly pulled up my wifebeater, and with each inch he pulled up, he left a trail of kisses to my shaking form behind. I arched in to him again, and our bodies seemed to mould together perfectly. He rested one large, unwavering hand on the small of my back, holding me against him as he sucked and bit my neck. I went to work and began to unbutton his shirt. He ripped my wifebeater off, throwing the fabric on the other side of the bed. He muttered something about sloppy clothing pissing him off before kissing and licking the top of my breasts. I felt a slight film of sweat trickle down my forehead and along the sides of my face, with one hard, forceful move, he ripped my jeans off my legs without even unbuttoning them. I finally had his shirt fully unbuttoned, no thanks to my trembling fingers, and he quickly slid it off of his slightly muscular arms. He undid his tie painfully slow, and made a nice pile for his clothes on the nightstand, leaving me frustrated and snapping at him to finish what he started. "Oh, in due time, darling. Have a bit of patience." he would say, and then he pinned my wrists above my head and began to slide my bra straps off my shoulders using only his teeth. I bucked my hips against his, grinding my lower body in to his, letting him know I was more than ready for him to pound me in to the next century. He grunted, only once, and then stared me down. When my bra straps were down as far as they would go, he sat up, straddled over my body and yanked me up with one hand, and undid the bra hooks with ease. It went flying over his shoulder and he laid me down gently, smirking. He stood in front of the bed, staring at my nearly fully naked body. I felt as if I was being sized up, or as if he was taking a mental picture to add to his probable vast collection. I sat up, cautiously, and looked up at him. He nodded his head, as if giving me permission to undo his pants. With slow progression I had them unzipped and unbuttoned within a minute, and they fell to his ankles. He kicked them, along with his shoes, off and looked down at me. He shoved me hard into the bed and grabbed my legs, slowly pulling off my boots and socks. He threw them against the wall, looking disgusted at my now ruined attire. He leaned down, hooking his thumbs into the strings of my thong and ripped it off quickly. I sat up long enough to pull down his boxer briefs, and he kicked them off, placing his clothes on the nightstand. He stood in front of me, fully naked, and his length was something most girls only dream of having in a lover. I smiled up at him, ready for the most fierce sexual encounter I've had in my life, when he gently took my hand and helped me to my feet. "This will be the only time I'm careful with you" he groaned in my ear while he pulled me against him. "Bring it, black eyes." I choked out. He slammed me hard into the wall, lifting one leg and wrapping it around his waist. I felt him get situated and shove his full girth inside of my aching cunt. I swore at him as he began to forcefully penetrate me. He wasn't slow, he wasn't gentle, he was an animal. I held on to his shoulders, letting my nails dig in as he continued to make me squirm and scream. He grunted like an animal in my ear as he continued to slam into me, making me bounce back against the wall each and every time. My hips ached as his hit them with such a force I felt like they would break, and my eyes began to roll in the back of my head, making me feel dizzy and see stars. He nipped at the soft flesh on my neck, making me cry out, and as he pounded my cunt, he let his thumb play with my swelling clit. I bit down on his neck, surely drawing blood, and I arched in to him again. When he was tired of banging me into the wall, he threw me on the ground, landing on top of me. He looked into my eyes, out of his mind with hunger, and kissed my lips hard. My legs lifted into the air, giving him more clearance to penetrate me deeper. With each and every thrust, he hit my gspot and made it hurt so bad I was sure I was bleeding. He kissed down my sweaty body, nibbling on my collar bone, breasts, and back up to my lips. Our tongues locked in a passionate wage of war that no one would win. My nails raked down his back, making it burn as he continued to thrust in to me, making me scream his name. My throat was hurting and turning raw, but I couldn't stop the uncontrollable urge to scream and swear at him. I heard his seductive chuckle, and as I let out a stream of cum, I shoved him off, pinned his wrists down to his sides, and whispered that it was my turn to have some fun. I carefully kissed down his sweaty body, leaving gentle kisses to his chest, down to his stomach, and held one last kiss to his lower stomach, where his happy trail began. He groaned, trying to fight me off of him, but part of him was willing to be submissive, at least for a little while. I let him go, looking up at him and smirking as he bit his lip in anticipation. At first, I put quick, soft kisses to the head of his cock, down to his shaft and back up, I slowly let the tip enter my mouth, and I swirled my tongue inside and out of it, making him swear and call me his dirty little whore. With each curse word, I sucked on the tip while holding on to the shaft with one hand. I massaged the shaft with my fingertips as I began to slowly let it enter my mouth, inch by inch. He was trying to move, trying to force it all inside my mouth and down my throat, but it was as if he was paralyzed. I held on to the base as it was all in my mouth, and I showed him what was any guys favorite ability in a girl; I could deep throat. "Fucking Cassidy, you slut." he grunted as I let it all slide down my throat. I let him hardened, pulsing dick slide in and out of my mouth, and sucked it hard like a lollipop. Each time it slid down my throat quickly, the precum was leaking more and more, and then finally, when he couldn't take anymore, he let a wave of it release into my mouth. Looking up at him as I slowly let his cock slide out of my mouth, I swallowed every last drop, and smirked as he lay there, shaking and muttering to himself. "This isn't over, you fucking bitch." he gasped. "Oh, but I think it is." I laughed, slowly getting off my knees. "Guess again." he said, regaining balance on his feet and shoving me on my stomach on the bed. He entered me from behind, pounding my pussy while his fingernails raked down my back. As he entered me with force, I gripped the sheets and felt him grip on to my ass as he shoved in every inch into my now swollen cunt. I cried out for him to stop as I felt the familiar pulse rage inside of me, but all I heard was him grunting over and over again, and making my head spin and the little breaths I did have stick in my throat. He leaned down, over me, while he fucked me senseless and placed several sweet kisses to my neck. With one last push, the muscles in my cunt contracted around him and we soaked the bed with our burning hot cum. He placed me on my back and fell on top of me, his face buried in my hair. I slid my fingertips up and down his spine, and turned to kiss his cheek. Our hearts beat against each others, and when we finally caught our breath, I felt his arms slide around my waist and his lips gently kiss mine. "How does it feel to be fucked my a demon?" he whispered raggedly in my ear. "Sinfully spectacular. How does it feel to be completely worked by a human?" I asked in return. "Let's just say, it was a pleasure working with you." he chuckled before kissing my lips again.

[kur0mimi]

Lights Out

—A High School AU of AKIRA, where Michiru decides to go home with Jin to avoid getting caught up in the intense rainfall. And their time spent together progressively gets more comfortable and tender. (pt. 1 of 2)

pairing - Michiru (my OC) and Jin (@neoghoulukaku OC)

genre - High School AU, tooth-rotting fluff, slice of life, comedy, smut (in pt. 2)

warnings - cursing, sexual undertones (progressively gets more smutty in the next part of this), and mentioning of eating disorders

a/n - hey! I have finally gotten around to post some of my new one shots that have been cracking up so much space, this one being more ✨spicy✨ anyways, I don’t have much to say but I hope you like this and stick around for part two because wow, it gets interesting 😌

The image of a strangler and a 14th century barbarian was in the vessel of a 21st century materialist who taught math class at the Eighteenth District high school. Hana Hayasaka was unfortunately Michiru’s dreaded cousin who continued her brutal onslaught of arithmetic torture on the students she was teaching. She was a modern day brutalist, walking on water like she was a contemporary dictator who danced to the song of her pupil’s groaning and moaning at the sight of a new equation being written on the board. This woman was no god, so where was Michiru’s? She didn’t have one. But a lover, perhaps?

He sat beside her, his onyx eyes narrowing incredulously at the quadratic equation being written on the board in front of him. Jin Takahashi had beautiful kaleidoscope eyes that were such a dark, mysterious colour as they peered off into the distance and into the hearts of his victims, or better known as the people that irked him on a regular basis.

Michiru was more than happy to sit beside her beloved boyfriend, as they had gone past the phase of stumbling over their words. She no longer needed to rationalize too much when thoughts were running through her mind as she held hands with him. And as far as she could tell, the only thing clutched in his hand was the pencil that was threatening to break with how irritated he was at the sadistic teacher.

‘That pencil is gonna break if he keeps squeezing it like that,’ The girl with the wavy black hair observed as she sipped orange juice from the small juice box she had snatched from the cafeteria not too long ago. She looked at her finished notes and sighed, squeezing the now empty carton between her slender fingers. Michiru knew her current situation was rather lacklustre, but comfortable. She wasn’t the type of person that would roll in mint leaves and cigarette smoke, waltzing out the back door to skip class and out to the moonlit streets of the urban nightmare they were all civilians of. She was a student who wanted to study political science and civics in order to achieve the position of a politician of Neo-Tokyo, and perhaps by then she would be able to fix the wretched neon jungle.

“Junko, my dear, can you tell us what another name for the slope is?” The female ruler’s voice rang throughout Michiru’s ears as the class grew silent, the only sound being the queen bee’s foolish stuttering.

“...Aren’t y-intercept and the slope the exact same thing? They both have a curve, right...?”

From the lonely bust of one of the female students came a muffled scream trapped beneath the marble and polished stone of her fake persona. Oh, Junko must’ve been livid, raging on the inside like her matriarchy as one of the most popular females had fallen. And it kind of did, but at least now there was less of a bullying issue and no more petty drama going around. Hana smirked mockingly as she sat on her desk, tapping the stub of chalk against the wooden surface of it as she eyed the young girl who had humiliated herself by stating the wrong answer.

“You’re wrong, darling,” Hana cooed gently as she stood up, wiping the white chalk dust from her pencil skirt. “Very wrong, in fact. Have you been paying attention? I don’t think bouncing on a boy’s me-“

“Mom, that’s enough. She got it wrong, just let someone else answer,” Ranze spoke up in a reasonable tone, trying to rationalize with her mother’s passive aggressiveness that broke the room in half with the amount of tension it created.

“Ah, of course!” The older woman backtracked as she turned to Nimura, sitting in between Setsuko and Aiko in the middle row of tables. “Hasegawa-san, give us another name for the slope.”

Nimura didn’t bat an eye as he looked up, meeting Hana’s gaze in a nonchalant manner that made some peer’s breaths hitch softly. “Delta y over delta x, Hayasaka-sensei.” He recited in an articulated and eloquent way of speaking, to which the teacher clapped her hands with delight.

“Such a smart boy! Junko-san, write down what he said as well as some other examples we’ll mention shortly.” Hana praised him as she patted him on the head, making the young prodigy cock his head in confusion while looking over at Ranze, who lifted her shoulders up into a shrug. “Michiru, darling, do you want to try?”

“y2 − y1 over x2 − x1 is another way of saying it, Hayasaka-sensei,” Michiru said gently as a faint smile ghosted her lips, a typical mannerism of her’s that made the girl so effortlessly irresistible.

“Correct once more! Highly expected of you two, anyways,” The totalitarian of a teacher turned around wrote down the two examples on the board, and it was there that Michiru could finally look back over at Jin, who seemed to have already been staring at her.

“I guess death doesn’t befit the ‘queen’,” Jin remarked with a quiet, almost stifled snicker as Junko was shaking in her anger, the person who reigned supreme in the school was now slowly descending to her death, which by she would be regarded as un paysan.

Michiru giggled, covering her mouth her hand to not draw attention to herself and Jin. “I don’t believe she deserved that title, anyway.” She responded gently as she tucked a strand of her ebony locks behind her ear.

“She’s building her own coffin, like the trash she fucking is,” The male teenager said bluntly as he sank back into his seat, looking at his paper with his eyelids dropping tiredly. Michiru couldn’t lie about not liking the way he looked when she saw him like this. So relaxed yet somehow still observant with his surroundings, and by looking at him, her various thoughts accumulated to the point where they hard to keep track of.

They were filling up her mouth and pouring out her eyes with her hesitant, soft glances. And they scraped the back of her throat and made her teeth start to rot with the sweetness they were filled with, but she could never make these feelings make sense. She could never make them come out in letters, only in affectionate touches, delicate eye contact, and hugging her pillow in the latest hours of the night.

She wasn’t intoxicated by any means, of course not. This was the feeling that made her dance in the rainy streets late at night to sweet songs about typical mediocre things. The water would pour onto her Prada shoes and frilled socks as she lived her life the she way she wanted to. She wanted to be alive, that was all.

While there was Ranze, the less innocent of the two and was a femme fatale in all her glory. A cigarette between her fingers while she curled up on the wooden deck chair that one time that they were alone, watching over the early city from the balcony of her apartment. Her sunglasses were almost on the tip of her nose. Her bare, boney legs pulled up to her chest. The mattress on the floor was unmade and two empty bottles of alcoholic substances were placed adjacent to it. And then the ravenette would leave every morning, putting on her shoes and buttoning up her uniform. Proceeding to travel the city like it was her own backyard.

Michiru wished she could have the confidence and intensity that her older relative did, perhaps if she did she would’ve been even more unstoppable. Her past was framed by white borders, overexposed metaphors tacked to a bulletin board. Hiding beauty behind cork, and behind her concentration for schoolwork was candidness and generosity—perhaps an accidental masterpiece? Many told the joyful girl that she looked too happy, but little did they know she was like that because her future was developing. And if she remained optimistic, would there be a reward waiting for her at the end?

The baleful lightning struck again from the outside as the rain pattered down aggressively, only for the bell to ring soon after. It was there last period for the day, physical education. Michiru stood up and packed her bags, placing her items in her leather satchel that had been adorned with pins of favourite shows and characters. She watched Jin stand up and place his items in his backpack, before snapping his gaze to the smaller girl, who had been watching him for a while at that point.

He smirked, his teeth shining through the small opened space of his mouth. “What are you looking at?” That rogue and badass visage made Michiru’s face flush red as she squeezed the empty juice box in her hands. “You kept looking at me for the entire duration of class. Do you need anything?”

Within plein-air, Michiru’s sensitive flesh felt foolishly exposed to drastic warmth as she walked beside him, exiting the classroom with a nod to the teacher. ‘Love proliferates like nettle down the throat,’ she thought as she moved closer to him, the side of her arm touching his with a brisk movement.

“Well... It’s been raining aggressively all day and I’m hesitant to go home alone,” Ah, they were truly pointless excuses. Jin could read through them so expertly and clearly, so what was the point of reciting pathetic inquiries? Was this all just to make her look less desperate in front of the others? Michiru didn’t even know what she wanted, but the seemingly innocent thought of spending more time with Jin was simply too good to be true. “I’ll just be honest with you, I simply wanted to know if I could come home with you and wait out the storm.”

She watched Jin’s eyes widen a bit, his eyebrows knitted together with astonishment as he looked into her large brown ones. He knew underneath those precious doe-like eyes were not perverse hidden secrets preserved within her intelligent mind. He would lament to believing she wanted such obscene things from him, morbidly, passionately, and pathetically.

“You want to come to my apartment?” Jin reiterated in disbelief as he ran a calloused hand through his spiky black hair. Any sort of unwarranted stirrings from either of the parties would create an imminent onslaught of awkwardness and stiffness for the both of them, an absolutely horrendous possibility neither of them wanted to look into. “You can, but it’s going to rain all night. Won’t your parents or Mamoru be worried if they didn’t see you come home before your curfew?”

Michiru pouted, looking down at the floor. Jin’s glare had softened when the smaller girl was around him, making his scowl (widely perceived as iniquitous) dissipate into a tranquil expression of well-hidden warmth and compassion for the girl he considered to be so important to him. “It’s Friday... So I could always say that I’m at Ranze’s, perhaps she would understand and play along...”

Jin didn’t know what Colonel Shikishima and Atsuko thought of him. Did they believe he was a ruthless, merciless depiction of a delinquent with an unquenchable thirst for sex and wanton attraction for their daughter? Perhaps a Beelzebub slathered against the odious death stare he had given his enemies.

That didn’t matter now, though. The older boy stopped in his tracks, reaching to cup her porcelain cheek—a fleeting yet fulfilling gesture that Michiru never grew tired of when he displayed that beautiful rarity of tenderness. His thumb lightly grazed over her skin gently as he eyed her carefully, his voice dipping down into a lower volume reserved for solely Michiru and Michiru only. “Ranze would be livid if she heard about you coming to my place. I don’t know how we could get away with it, she would do anything to catch us in a compromising position, Mimi.”

Michiru’s face flushed a deep vermillion as Jin backed off, a grin tugging at his lips as the beautiful girl stood like a deer in headlights after the sudden action. Her eyes of luminous glass glimmering with an innocence that was far too real. She exhaled a bated breath, her heart beating in a shallow and slow manner.

Bruised with verbatim, Michiru nodded with a sheepish smile. “I’m sure she isn’t always going to gate-keep what we’re going to do. I’ll ask her in the locker room and see how things pan out.”

Jin took a deep breath, slinging his bag over his shoulder while the other hand clasped his girlfriend’s hand. “I’ll leave the talking to you, then. And if anything goes wrong, I’ll talk to her. There’s no way she can get through me.” He scoffed as he opened the double doors to the gymnasium, followed by Shosaku cocking his eyebrow at the couple incredulously, appearing to have been listening in on on the couple haphazardly.

“Don’t fucking tell me he’s gonna bring you home now...” The promiscuous teenager with the bleached strand of hair remarked wryly, a foolish smile painted on his face that quickly dissipated when Jin glared at him viciously. “Heh... Jin, buddy, don’t look at me like that.”

The teenager rolled his eyes, ushering Michiru to go on ahead of them. “Babe, you go on ahead and get changed. Class is gonna start soon, anyways.”

“Okay, then!” She replied quickly and eagerly before whipping her head back around to look at Shosaku. “Shosaku-san... What do you mean by that?”

Shosaku lowered his voice to a mere whisper as he huddled closer to Michiru. “Well, Jin has had a record of being a playboy—“

“I said get going! Class fucking starts soon, so get a fucking move on, Sho!!” Jin’s voice boomed from behind them, making the two scarper within the blink of an eye.

2:15 pm

In the girl’s locker room...

Michiru’s heart yearned for what it had been robbed of for so long, a fulfilling life to live. Her soul yearned for the feeling of the crucifix the extremists had nailed into her mind and soul years ago to be pulled off of her. The blood had dried by the present day, congealed itself rotten for good. Ah, yes, the wound had finally crusted over. She was ready to commit herself to more important things than religion—schoolwork, her political aspirations, and her social life.

Inklings of her fellow female peers had started to re-emerge, traces of their idle conversation drifting into her ears, radiating a topic Michiru had been so uneducated in—oddly enough, she was smart and had a detailed analysis on everything, but this was different in many ways.

“Kira, is that a hickey? Offer us an explanation, please!” Mariko probed at her friend as she unbuttoned her blouse, revealing her own revealing plethora of obscene marks that made Michiru nearly turn her head around to gawk at the sight—but she kept her distance, nonetheless.

“Yeah~ Ryuji and I went out at last night and he took me home. Then the rest is just history, I don’t even remember what we did!” Kira replied in her typically air-headed fashion, shrugging as she slipped her t-shirt over her head. “Sex with him is so good, anyways. I was seeing stars because of how hard he went.”

“Aww, does that mean I get to see him next? I haven’t had a good session since a couple months ago with Yusuke,” Makoto whined as she tied her basketball shoes, making the other girls erupt with their hideous cacophony of chortles.

Have these girls ever dreamed of having sex in a finer light? Had they ever dreamt of anything remotely respectable in the slightest? Definitely not. This was the divide between Michiru and her friends and Junko with her posse of idiots. Their reckless souls were so carelessly merged with what they were doing after hours, almost like they were yearning for even more attention...

“Mimi, you keep blanking out. Do you need me to take you to the infirmary?” Suddenly snapped the motherly voice of her older second cousin, Ranze, who placed a warm hand on the shoulder of the smaller girl in a reassuring light. Oh, this was just like home as well, a twisted home where the soul only revisits to feel that sweet burning sensation. To set itself aflame, to ignite.

“Oh, I’m fine. Thanks for asking...” Michiru murmured gently before slipping her shirt over her head, before combing her digits through her wavy black locks of hair. “By the way... Can I ask a favour of you, Ranze?”

“Hmm? Yeah, shoot.”

“Can you cover for me in front of my parents and brother? I’m going to Jin’s house for the night, that’s all—“

Ranze threw her gaze back to Michiru with great ferocity, looking at her with immense suspicion and thinly-veiled worry. “I’m imagining things, right? Have I gone entirely mad?” The older ravenette was speechless as she sat down onto the bench, pulling her hair back into a ponytail while the honour student shrugged carelessly.

“Can you do it? I promise, I’ll get you whatever you want afterwards. And you know Jin, he’s not going to hurt me in any way, shape, or form,” Michiru pleaded as she folded her hands together for extra effect, the precious twinkling in her eyes making Ranze grunt. “Don’t give me that. I’m not going to be the youngest forever... So please, just let me go with him!”

The femme fatale sighed, throwing her hands up in defeat. “I know I can’t play god and tell you both what to do... But goddamn, I’m really unsure of this, Mimi. Can you at least promise that you’ll call me every other hour to check in?”

“Ranze, you know I can’t keep track of that—“

“Do you want to go?”

“Okay, fine...! I’ll do what you want, just please don’t say anything to my mother and father. Especially Mamoru too,” Michiru wrapped her thin arms around the older girl, enveloping her in a sugary sweet embrace that made Ranze’s heart melt.

“I won’t. Your secret is safe with me, Mimi,” Ranze rubbed her relative’s head affectionately before rising to her feet and stretching. “Just please assure me I won’t have to swing by and bring you a spare change of clothes.”

2:46 pm

She looked in every direction and corner to spot Jin in that noisy gymnasium. She had spent the first twenty minutes of her exercise period skipping rope on her own. Her legs were already sore, a phantom of fatigue biting her limbs and beating heart as she bent over to catch her breath from the cardio. Although Michiru thrilled the anticipation of seeing Jin doing his own thing, the lovely sentiment of catching him lifting weights fuelled a fire inside of her. It was a thrill she couldn’t understand in any way. It was so strange as the burning feeling in the pit of her stomach didn’t leave, not even one bit.

She felt around for her water bottle before picking it up and taking a generous swig of water, then stood up and to walk to the weightlifting station where Jin resided—lifting what appeared to be a heavy set of weights, at least to Michiru it was. The curious girl sat down in from of him by the mirror, gnawing at the inside of her cheek as her clouded eyes watched him with such interest. Perhaps she was magnetized to him- that surely could’ve been the case.

But it was the loveliest just being able to pause her own exercises to check on her boyfriend, who’s eyes travelled down to the slender form of the beautiful girl who sat in front of him.

“You’ve come to...” Jin inhaled, curling the weights to his chest as his eyes remained steady on the person in front of him. “...check on me? How’d your workout go?”

“It went well. Skipping rope is fun but it gets repetitive after 20 consecutive minutes,” She replied cheerfully, her pupils wandering to the clique of degenerates that collected near the benches. “But better than not exercising at all, I suppose.”

The respect for those girls and boys had forsaken itself, but Michiru even wondered if she ever had it to begin with. How she even lose something she never had to begin with?

Even so, Michiru revered the sense of comfort that eased within her when she was around the overtly honest boy. It created a sense of comfort that made him feel like home. And if that were the case, would she feel homesick for him?

She watched the tendons and muscles in his arms flex each time he lifted the weights a final time before putting it back on the bar. Jin situated himself by the younger girl with the bright brown eyes, hissing slightly at the soreness in his muscles. What she had to face was a life to live despite her frail form. She only wanted him, he was her personal inferno in a sense.

Wait, what? Something like that sounded so strange to her, as she had never felt such an intensity of emotions when she was around Jin. It was strange... too strange if she were to put her finger on it. But what was she to do?

She tenderly wrapped her arms around his neck, tucking her face into his nape as he chuckled quietly. She prayed for more tenderness, the tenderness that would rip her away from the cruelties of the world and from the melancholia. Tenderness, her ticket to euphoria.

“Ranze said she could cover for us,” Michiru muttered against the fabric of his shirt, to which Jin turned his head to look back at his significant other with disbelief in his eyes. “On one condition: she wants me to call her to check in at every other hour. But other than that, it’s all good.”

“I see...” Jin heaved out as he wrapped an arm around Michiru, situating his hand comfortably on her hip. This was her love language, the feeling of his firm yet tender touch across her skin made her shudder subconsciously, to which Jin tilted his head. “Are you cold?”

“No... Not at all, actually,” She was drowsy at the thought of him. Angels above, gods above had nothing on him. It was just strange how hypersensitive she was to all of the attention.

“Mhm... Right,” Jin regarded her words with a small nod before looking off into the distance, his eyes foggy with tiredness. “I’m surprised it didn’t take that much convincing. The two of us are frenemies, but it’s to the point where I can’t do any shit alone with you because she’s so suspicious.”

“I’ll be honest with you, I’m starting to be irritated with it,” Michiru confessed, pressing her cheek up against his damp shirt. “But thankfully she’s starting to back off more recently, it’s just that I would really like it if she didn’t treat me like a child constantly...”

Jin looked away and toward the ticking clock on the wall in front of them. “She told me she’s at least happy that you’re content with me and that I’m content with you.. She knows I’ll take good care of you so she shouldn’t be too worried,” He muttered as he cracked his knuckles. “As for her treating you like a kid... I could why see you would be fed-up with it, but you’re younger than her and she sees you like a little sister. She just wants you to be out of harm’s way.”

A thunder encompassed the sky in that moment, the booming crackle of it making Michiru nearly jump out of shock to which Jin rubbed the small of her back in order to stabilize her. The dimmed lights above the students flickered unnaturally, some of them almost immediately giving out. The storm was going to drown them in its fiery onslaught, and it was only fifteen minutes before they could get out of that dumpster fire of a school.

“Don’t tell me I have to drive home in this weather!” Kaisuke complained as he fell back onto the gymnastics mats, to which Setsuko shrugged nonchalantly beside him.

“We can carpool, then,” The docile student offered, making the others look at her with anticipation. “I’m being picked up by Suzuya, so perhaps we can stop and drive you all home as well.”

Jin sighed as he looked over to the girl hugging his side, a soft figure with wavy hair like water from the flowing waves of the sea. His eyes were alight with hidden affection, as on the outside he had thick skin and wouldn’t show sweetness towards anyone except for her. Incandescence was rising between the rogue biker and the demure young lady as she enveloped him in her gentle warmth. “I’ll finish my final set and we can get going. How does that sound, babe?”

“Sure, that works,” She whispered, the volume of her voice not disguising how excited she was to spend more time with him. There was no divine plan she was following, perhaps she wanted to grow closer to him. Michiru didn’t have any divine figure that she was going to trust, she was only going to let things happen as the afternoon went by.

3:35 pm

At Jin’s apartment...

It was always a reoccurring thought to Michiru when it came to wondering what sort of environment Jin lived in. But as she stepped into the dormitory, she felt as though she had gotten around to experiencing some sort of paradise—not luxurious by any means, but still comfortable and safe, with him.

The dull, white tones of his room had been haunting her mind as she looked around, her wide eyes fixated on the various band posters, workout equipment, and other paraphernalia that decorated the living space. The way he kept his apartment was reflective of his personality and to Michiru it seemed to be everlastingly beautiful.

She removed her Mary Janes and placed them beside Jin’s sneakers, walking around the room aimlessly as she admired the various articles of decoration that made the room so unique. Whilst Jin placed his backpack on the kitchen counter, turning to flick the lights on but to no avail as the power had gone out.

“Fuck,” He cursed under his breath as he rummaged through the cabinets to look for a flashlight or some sort of candle to illuminate just a sliver of the dark room. Michiru looked out the window, the divinely dark sky, the indigo flashes of lightning ripping at the sky, and the lush atmosphere she had been placed in. To her it was like peace personified, there was pure safety and security surrounding her briefly. And for a moment, she’d hadn’t realized the power had been blown out. “I’ll get some sort of flashlight or candle so we can actually see what we’re doing. You have a change of clothes for yourself, right?”

“Yes, I do. I have some for after gym class to go home in,” She responded as she took out the aforementioned article of clothing before looking around for a private place to change. “Where’s the bathroom?”

“Down there and to the right,” He replied as he pulled two candles from the cabinets under the sink.

Michiru nodded in acknowledgment, silently thanking him for his help as she quickly moved to the room, opening the door and shutting behind her, locking it. Carefully, she undid the buttons on her shirt and unzipped her skirt, letting it fall onto the tiled floor and pooling at her ankles.

Her ebony curls were damp and not as neat as they were when they were dried. And her lips, cheeks, and the tips of her ears were stained a fruit punch pink as she looked at herself in the mirror briefly. Her body curved and sloped like a mountain, gripping the slung juts of her waist as she looked down.

It didn’t seem that long ago when she wasn’t allowing herself to eat, as it only made up months and years of slow, albeit steady recovery. With the occasional relapse during her darker periods of loneliness. Michiru was still starting to grow to love herself just a little bit more, even if it was slow and there were rough patches, she had realized a fraction of what she couldn’t see while her eyes were filtered that pessimistic film. With the help of her close friends and family, she had time to recovery—even if she still suffered meagre remnants of it.

‘Ranze wouldn’t want to see me being insecure now. She just wants me to be happy,’ Michiru thought as she chuckled quietly when she slipped the white dress over her head. She gathered up her clothes and exited the washroom, putting the soggy uniform in her bag before looking over at Jin, who had already gotten changed into a black tank top and a grey sweatpants and was folding his gakuran. In that moment, he looked up at her and she could see his eyes widen a bit.

She was wearing a sleeveless white dress that reached just a little bit above her knees and had frilly accents on it. Perfectly dainty compared to the other themes of the room as the delinquent’s face flushed a deep crimson, clearing his throat as he looked away, a typical mannerism of his.

“Michiru...” He began, scratching the back of his neck as he sat on a chair adjacent to his bed that had one of his leather jackets thrown onto it. “You look really good...”

She sat down on the floor beside his bed, throwing her head back and smiling infectiously. “Thank you, Jin.. I appreciate it.”

Jin nodded silently, opening his mouth to add to what he had just spoken. “You don’t need to sit on the ground, you can sit on my bed if you’d like.” He offered as she looked at him, lips fresh and dewy with the remnants of her lip balm that she had purchased from the local drugstore. She gladly pulled herself onto the bed and sat down, breathing in the cold air slowly.

Her cheekbones were flushed pink as she looked up at the ceiling, as the feeling of the bed dipping under Jin’s weight when he laid down beside her. Michiru hummed in response as she threw her arms around him, running her slim fingers through his hair as he started to relax.

“I didn’t know you had a dartboard,” Michiru murmured sweetly as Jin wrapped his arms around her waist, his grip secure and safe. She dragged her pink nails across the skin of his back lightly as the brutally honest teen chuckled.

“Yeah, I do. I use it to vent out my anger sometimes,” He said as his dark eyes softened when he looked into her’s, a very faint smile tugging at his lips. “Why bring it up?”

“I was just curious. But now that I see how good your aim is, I’d really like to go up against you.”

“You really want to?” Jin’s smirk grew impossibly wider at the prospect of playing an innocent game of darts with his precious girlfriend.

“Of course! I do archery so I think you have some stiff competition here, Jin.” He could throw his head back and laugh, the streak of competitiveness in her making him amused.

‘She’s too fucking gentle for this world,’ He thought as he pulled away from her, going to the wall to pull the array of darts from the board for them to play.

[billyhardgrove]

all i want for christmas is booze (b.h)

A/N: Just the final christmas installment. I don’t like the way this turned out but it’s officially christmas morning where i am and I’m too tired to fix the parts i don’t like. Anyways hope you enjoy and MERRY CHRISTMAS!! XX

ALL I WANT FOR CHRISTMAS IS BOOZE

Pairing: Billy& Reader Word Count: 3.1k approx. Warning: Swearing, Smoking

Summary: You’re about to head over to your parents for Christmas until you find the one guy that you despise sitting on a bench by himself.

PART 3 | (part 2 here)

-

It wasn’t long before you’d arrived at your parent’s house.

Your sister and her boyfriend had given you sceptical looks when you had clambered into the car along with an unexpected guest, but you just shrugged them off, giving them a look of your own before starting the car and driving off.

Billy was quiet the whole way there, which maybe you should’ve anticipated. The only person he would know tonight would be you and maybe that intimidated him a little. For the most part he never made great impressions with parents or families, with them always finding some problem with his attitude or disapproval with his appearance, and typically he wouldn’t care, but for some reason, part of him didn’t want to fuck this up tonight.

He was still trying to figure out where this burst of kindness you held came from, and why in the world did you think to do such a gesture towards him. He didn’t know of people that did nice things out of the good of their heart, especially if his home life was anything to go by, so this was a first for him.

Listening to you chatter ridiculously with your sister and her boyfriend amused him a little. To see you in such a good mood, getting along with people, cracking jokes, smiling, laughing, it was all foreign to him. He had never experienced you so care free and… happy.

Though maybe part of him didn’t know what it was like to be that last one.

Pulling up to your parents’ driveway, you quickly parked the car and shut the engine off before stepping out. Billy followed suit, though still hovering awkwardly by his side of the car as you retrieved your presents from the boot. Your sister and boyfriend tried to make polite conversation with him but he remained closed and quiet. He was uncomfortable to say the least.

He only moved from his spot as you all made your way to the front door, and you made sure to hover behind your sister and in front of Billy so as to hopefully put the blonde-haired boy at ease somewhat. You tried to give him a smile, but he didn’t return it, his blank stare bothering you ever more. You hoped he wouldn’t be like this all night for that’d be exhausting. Maybe if he got a beer or two in him, that’d help, you thought.

But he already has half a bottle of jack in him and that’s put him in his current state, your subconscious reminded.

Shaking your head absentmindedly, you rang the doorbell, eager to get into the warmth.

It was your auntie who answered the door, all warm and cheery, the bubbly she’d most likely already let herself go on reaching her enthused personality.

“Girls, how wonderful to see you!” Her loud voice filtered through your ears and you could’ve sworn a large flock of birds flew from the trees at the sudden loud noise of her voice. “And Jeremy, darling, how could I forget you? How have you been?” Hugs and kisses were shared as you each made your way into the house but it wasn’t until you stepped toward the doorway that Billy was revealed to your aunt, still not making any movement to come forward.

God, part of you hated this Billy more than the arrogant one you were used to. It was just so… not him.

“And who’s this?” Your aunt’s tone was surprised yet in a pleasant way, no sound of disgust or disapproval like Billy had been expecting. “Y/N, you didn’t tell me you were dating anyone.” Your aunt made a face at you in teasing accusation. Widening your eyes, you felt your cheeks heat up at what she was insinuating.

“No, no, we’re not dating. Not at all.” You shook your head rigorously as though to prove your point even more.

You dating Billy? You tried to keep your gag reflex at bay. (Ok maybe that was a little dramatic)

“Billy’s just a… uh… he’s my neighbour.” You settled for, because lord knows you weren’t friends, and acquaintances just sounded awkward. Beckoning Billy forward, he finally made the motion of stepping towards the home and towards the doorway. “Billy this is my Aunt Sandra.” You introduced him, and Billy only gave a curt nod at the cheerful women before darting his eyes elsewhere. But his antisocialness seemed to go unnoticed by your slightly tipsy aunt as she suddenly pulled him in for a welcoming hug in which Billy stood stiffly in. But again she didn’t noticed, ushering him inside once more.

Billy let his eyes dart to you, giving you a weird apprehensive look. You gave him small smile in return, letting your hand reach out a gently rub his jacket clad arm in comfort.

“Come in, come in. You guys must be freezing! Let me take your jackets and go ahead into the living room. The fire will warm you up.” Your aunt mothered as you all removed your jackets and handed them to her for her to stow away. Your sister and Jeremy walked through the door into the living room and you were just about to follow when Billy’s hand caught your forearm.

Looking at him, he looked anxious, really anxious, with his eyebrows furrowed and eyes wide, his lip was brought between his lips. “Are you ok, Billy? You don’t look so good.” You told him, concern glistening within your eyes.

“I just need some air.” He told you, but you knew that wasn’t it. Leaving it be, you nodded your head before telling him to go ahead, and that you would be out in a second after you grabbed him a glass of water. Maybe he could do with sobering up?

Walking into the kitchen, your aunt stood by the oven as she based the turkey and faffed about the counters. You reached for a glass and began to fill it with water when she spoke up. “Is Billy alright? He seemed slightly uncomfortable, or is he just quiet?” You tried not to snort at your aunt’s last words. Billy quiet? In what sane world. Though obviously he wasn’t being himself at the moment.

“He’s fine. Just needed some fresh air is all.” You replied. “He was feeling a little bit sick on the drive over.” You added, making something up to sound convincing. Your aunt nodded, accepting your response though maybe not one hundred percent believing it, she left it be.

“Oh I hope he feels better.” She spoke earnestly. “Maybe he’s just hungry. I’m sure food will make him feel a lot better.” She encouraged, optimistically. And you agreed. But there was something else she was wanting to ask, though she wasn’t certain it was her place. But it was the bubbly she’d had that told her to ask nonetheless. “And, uh, how come he isn’t with his family for Christmas? Not that he’s not welcome here, of course he is, but I’m just wondering.” She rambled, and you sighed. You might as well tell her; it’s not as though she would bring it up to Billy and make things awkward for him, she wasn’t like that.

“He has a difficult home life.” You carefully selected your words, telling her what he hinted though soon realising you didn’t exactly know the extent of it yourself. All you knew really was that he was by himself this holiday. “He says he’d rather be drunk and alone on Christmas than with his family so I told him he could join us.”

Your aunt nodded once more in understanding. She always had been considerate and sympathetic for anyone that she knew and it was one of the many things you loved about her. Swiftly changing the subject, she spoke up. “He sure is handsome though, isn’t he? Are you sure you guys aren’t dating?”

You laughed at her light-heartedness, shaking your head no. “Definitely not.” You replied, giving her a smile before taking the glass of water and heading towards the front door. Though you couldn’t help but let your mind rile at the idea of you and Billy dating. Wait, what? You had to stop yourself short, not wanting to entertain that idea for a second. It was ridiculous.

Opening the door, part of you had expected Billy to have scarpered, nowhere to be seen, but there the boy was sitting on the front step of your aunt’s house, cigarette snug between his frost-bitten lips. Sitting yourself down next to the boy, you bumped your shoulder softly with his, before handing him the glass of water you had received for him.

“Thanks.” He mumbled around his cigarette, before taking the glass from you. He set it next to his feet on the ground before looking up to the sky and continuing to smoke in silence. The boy seemed to have calmed down a little compared to how frantic he looked inside the house, so that was good you supposed.

“So…” You spoke, unsure of what exactly to say. You knew it was no use prying the reason for his odd behaviour since he definitely wouldn’t tell you, but it was at this time that you realised a civil conversation had never occurred between you and Billy and it felt oddly unsettling. Small talk just wasn’t a part of whatever relationship you had with Billy and now that you felt you were in the position to start it, it felt rather unnatural. So you spoke clumsily. “How you doing?”

Billy’s eyes glanced towards you for a second before they returned to the sky. His hand reached to take the cigarette from his lips before exhaling the smoke as he scoffed at your question. “That was painful for you to say, wasn’t it?” He smirked slightly, poking fun at how awkwardly the question left your lips.

Letting out a light laugh, you pushed his arm playfully. “Hey, give me a break. We both know this is new territory for us.”

Billy nodded his head, turning his face to you with a genuine smile in agreement to your statement and it was something you hadn’t really seen before. Billy’s go-to expressions were either anger or a cocky smirk so for a smile to be directed at you made your breath catch in your throat lightly. Or perhaps it was more because it was a rather charming sight.

Staring at the boy a little longer as he returned his attention to the starry sky, you asked him again, this time more seriously and confidently. “How are you really, though?”

He shrugged his shoulders, not knowing what to say. “Numb from the cold.” He joked, avoiding the answer you were really searching for.

“I wonder why. Could it be because you’re sitting outside in December when you could be inside by the fire?”

“Perhaps.” He shrugged again.

Another silence met the two of you, this one more comfortable than the last. But it was when Billy had finished that cigarette and was halfway through another that he spoke up again.

“My family…” He began, pausing for a moment as he contemplated how much he wanted to give away. He wasn’t one to open up ever. “My family doesn’t know kindness. They never have and so when your aunt was so… so nice, it caught me off guard.” Glancing down to the ground, he didn’t dare look at you in fear of what expression you wore on your face. Probably mockery, he thought. Though that was the furthest from the truth. “My family doesn’t know kindness and so I never expected it from yours, or I at least never expected it to be directed toward me. I just, I have no idea how to act in that sort of situation.” He admitted, taking another drag from his cigarette.

“That’s ok, Billy.” You said, and there was nothing but understanding in your voice. “It makes sense that you acted the way you did.” Turning his head to look at you, your face wasn’t mocking but it wasn’t concerned either. It was simply accepting, and truthfully that was what Billy wanted. He couldn’t be bothered to endure the sympathetic, ‘aw, that’s so sad’ conversation and so for you to respond in the ideal way relieved the boy a great deal. “You don’t have to worry about stepping out of line or offending anyone. My family are very laid back and can take what they dish out so you don’t need to be on guard tonight. But if at any moment it gets overwhelming again, just let me know and we can come outside again, or maybe find an empty room in the house where my tits won’t freeze off.” You told him, your hands coming up to rub your arms.

“Thanks.” He gave you another small smile before taking drag from his cigarette once more. “But how else I’m I to see your nipples through your shirt if we don’t go outside.” He added, nodding his head to your chest teasingly and you couldn’t help but chuckle at him. The Billy you were used to was shining through again.

Snatching his cigarette from his hand, you stood up and turned to face him before taking a drag. “C’mon, dinner will be ready soon.” You told him, chucking the last of the cigarette to the ground.

-

The pair of you were socialising in the living room with your family. After coming back inside, you had introduced Billy to the rest of your family, your uncle, your cousins and your younger brother. He had still been slightly reserved but he was clearly a little more comfortable after being outside.

You were laughing at a witty comment your uncle had made when Billy hadn’t been able to help his eyes as they continuously glanced over at you. Throughout the evening he found himself admiring such little things about you he hadn’t noticed but now appreciated since he was given the chance. How your tongue would occasionally poke between your teeth when you beamed in a particular way, or how your eyes would screw shut when even the smallest of laughs left you. You were another kind of beautiful.

“When are your parents coming?” Billy asked you a little later on, while gazing at your family members sitting in the living room.

Looking down to the ground, you cleared your throat for a moment before replying. “They’re not.”

“Huh?” Billy looked to you as you just gave him a soft smile. “Why?”

“Well, uh, my mum… she actually passed away a couple of years ago.” You admitted, though your voice was strong upon talking about it, a sign that you weren’t searching for pity, you were merely stating a fact. “And my dad is with his new family elsewhere so…”

“Oh,” Billy frowned, not knowing what to say. Normally he would’ve said he was sorry but you weren’t looking for that so he stayed quiet. Part of him felt a little guilty as he recalled accusing you of having a perfect family earlier that same night when in fact that wasn’t the case at all. And you could’ve thrown that in his face but instead you had said nothing and instead had decided to share your Christmas with him. He was slowly getting to know you after all this time of assuming things about you, and he was beginning to realise that perhaps the two of you weren’t all that different.

“It’s fine though because all of my family are right here.” You shrugged, giving him another smile before taking a sip of your mulled wine.

Just then, before any more words could be shared between the two of you, your aunt’s singing voice was calling everyone for dinner.

The Christmas feast was delicious, with turkey and ham and stuffing and pigs-in-blankets, with carrots and parsnip and potatoes and Brussel sprouts, clinking cutlery and noisy chatter enveloped the house for the next hour. And as time went on, you noticed how Billy started to leave his shell more and more, as he realised it was safe to do that here, with your family. At one point he had even been in deep conversation with your aunt as he had been helping to put dishes away after dinner, though you chose to ignore the fact that the two of them went quiet upon realising you had walked in.

Towards the end of the evening, when your uncle and favourite cousin were taking their post-dinner nap while the rest of the family were playing silly board games, you and Billy were stood facing each other, leaning against either side of the living room doorway as the pair of you chatted. Billy was a lot happier than he had been when you first bumped into him, as it was hard not to notice the ever growing frequent smiles that graced his handsome face throughout the night. It had been a wonderful Christmas, and you never expected it to turn out the way it did, especially the part in which you and Billy were actually getting along.

“So once this night is over, we go back to the way things were, right?” Billy asked, recalling what you had said earlier on in the evening. He was smirking lightly at you as his shoulder leaned against the doorway casually. “We go back to hating each other?”

“That’s the plan.” You agreed humorously, looking up at him through your lashes.

Both of you knew things definitely wouldn’t be going back to the way they were before that night, before Christmas. But Billy played along anyway, and he used it as the perfect opportunity to do something he had perhaps always wanted, but tonight it was more meaningful than he ever meant it to be.

Pushing himself from the wall, Billy took a step closer to you, so close to where you could smell his cologne. Smiling down at you wordlessly, you gazed at him your face pulling in slight confusion at the way he was acting. One of his hands brushed a few strands of hair as he placed them behind your ear and your eyes widened at the flirty action. “Billy what the fuck-“

“For once would you just shut up?” He cut you off, grinning at you before finally leaning in, his lips pressing against yours with his hand cupping your cheek. It was a gentle kiss, nothing hungry or rough but sweet and caring. And you felt giddy, your stomach fluttering in a way that made you dizzy.

But you weren’t aware of the mistletoe dangling above the two of you, positioned there by a certain aunt; you weren’t aware that Christmas had given Billy the perfect excuse to act on the growing feelings he had started to have that night; and you weren’t aware that that night, that Christmas had been the beginning of something wonderful.

-

Lemme know what you thought!

[weareallfallengods]

Flight from Grace Chapter 1 - A small stumble

The long-awaited complete 1st chapter of my WIP novel! I started this over 6 months ago and I’m finally getting into the swing of it.

Synopsis: What happens when a Fallen Angel with no memory of her own eternal past meets a woman who can see her for who she really is? A head on collision between the world as we know it and an eternal battle between the immortals tasked with safeguarding the mortal realm. 

Grace can see things she shouldn’t be able to; after all, immortals have gone to a lot of trouble to make sure we can’t see them as they really are, so Something Has Changed, and she and her Fallen Angel will find out what’s going on, and why they seem to always be stuck in the middle of it all.

Themes: Angels and Demons, examination of mortality and our understanding of and belief in the supernatural as well as the eternal nature of existence. The battle between good and evil, and how no one is ever what they seem to be when we look past prejudices and social judgements. LGBTQ+, proper ethnic and cultural representation (read: most characters aren’t straight or white!).

Triggers: If you don’t like stories that put an often irreverant and sacriligeous spin on Christian mythos, this isn’t for you. LGBTQ+ romance, slow burn, non-explicit.

===================================================

“Did it hurt when you fell from Heaven?”

Some neanderthal interrupted my deep contemplation of the double whiskey sour in front of me. Which was very rude. Whiskey sours demand your undivided attention and get cranky if ignored for too long. He should have known that, but either he didn’t know or didnt care, so either way- neanderthal.

He was leaning on the bar with the casual air of someone who has done this same dance too many times, the practiced ease of a used car salesman slapping the roof of a car. At least this one’s breath wasn’t too foul. Not that this hadn’t happened before. Oh no, I’d never been badly hit on in this bar like ten thousand times already. No that never happened. I was able to just sit in peace with my drink for the entire night. Yeah, right. Why do I keep coming back then, you ask? Well, Grace makes one hell of a whiskey sour for one thing.

“Hey, did you hear me?”

Ugh, this one wasn't going away with simply being ignored. Lovely.

“Excuse me?” I looked over languidly, with as much disdainful irritation on my face as I could possibly muster from the depths of my three-drinks-in soul.

“I said, ‘did it hurt when you fell from heaven?’”

His stupid shit-eating leer didnt help my mood any. I wasn’t ever in a good mood if I showed up here, and that’s probably one of the reasons I kept coming back- assholes like this gave me a vent for my foul mood.

“No actually. It’s less of a fall and more of a stumble really. More like getting tossed out of a club by a bouncer than falling down the stairs. Couple of bruises, a minor scrape, more damaged pride than anything really.”

I could see his monkey-brain churning slowly to try and digest my response that didn’t fit his pre-programmed scenario. I half expected to see steam coming out of an ear. God, some men are just so... ew.

“Um, what?”

Apparently I broke him. Well, that happens sometimes, when I give someone a response they weren’t expecting. Which happens more often than I’d be willing to admit to myself.

“I said that getting tossed out of heaven doesn’t hurt as much as you’d think it would. It’s not that far of a tumble really.”

He chuckled, “That’s real cute darlin’, never heard that one before! How’s about you and me find a table so I can hear more about it? Maybe have a look at those bruises, make sure you don't need more…attention.”

Sweet Mother of Mikhail, that was bad. Like even worse than his initial pickup line. I almost had to respect his commitment to such a shitty way of trying to pick me up. He had some balls, that’s for sure, either from drunken stupidity or pure ignorant self-confidence. They say that bravery and stupidity go hand in hand, and here was their shining example.

“Believe me sweetie, you don’t want my 'attention’,” I said softly, for the first time raising my eyes to lock with his glazed gaze. “My attention can become very… uncomfortable.”

He started to smirk for just a split second, but when my eyes met his, both the smirk and the color melted from his face. His mouth hung slack as he felt his soul staring down the opening fiery abyss that he found reflected in my eyes. I watched his mind recoil in horror at the emptiness it saw as it tried futilely to pull back from the horror of empty infinity it was confronted with. I saw in his eyes the sudden awareness of how small and insignificant his place in the universe was, and shrink in horror, trying to flee internally only to find that there’s no escape from your own mind and the finality of human existence.

I looked away just as his eyes started to roll back in his head. No need to cause a scene with him passing out. After all, my whiskey sour was crying from being ignored. As they do.

“I think you should probably go home now Blake,” I demurred softly. “You’ve probably had enough, and your wife would be happy if you tucked the children into bed for once. Oh, and coffee won’t remove the smell of alcohol, so just have a peppermint. Your kids like that smell, reminds them of Christmas.”

He kind of half nodded, like a sleepwalker. I sighed. Hopefully he doesn't have an existential crisis later and just shrugs it off as being too drunk. Hell, maybe he’ll cut back on the sauce. I hate it when I hear about someone offing themselves after meeting me, especially if they have kids. Well, hopefully he just takes the daily inebriation down a notch or two. I can hope, can’t I?

As he shuffled off, lager forgotten at the bar, I hoped he’d be alright. Genuinely. Sure, I enjoyed taking my frustration at being stuck here out on them, but I didn't actually wish them lasting harm. A lesson or two in politeness and decency, a minor scuffle to break up the monotony, but no real damage. That’s what I told myself anyway. Made it easier to pretend to sleep at night. Hope he makes it home ok. Hope his kids get a happy memory of daddy saying goodnight for once. Hope he says he loves his wife, and apologizes. Hah. Yeah. Like that’ll happen. But, what can I say, I’m a foolish optimist at heart. And nothing hurts more than having your hopes crushed. I should know.

Damn. My drink was crying, a small puddle of condensation soaking into the bar napkin it rested on. Again. Another sigh. And one more for the first sigh. I hate sighing. It’s the most comprehensive sound of the acceptance of defeat ever created. The acknowledgment of futility. And I hate that. I thought I’d be fighting to the bitter end, but apparently Destiny had other plans. Fucking Destiny. She’s the whole reason I’m even drinking in the first place.

“Get you a fresh one?”

A sweet silver-bell tinkle of a voice broke my unintentional reverie. Grace was back, checking on me. She knew my peccadilloes by now. She knew how much I hated when my drink got watered down by the ice melting if it got ignored for too long. I nodded.

She smiled pleasantly and slid over a new drink, already prepped.

“I figured, after that creep pounced on ya.”

I frowned slightly. There was something different about this one. Hunh. Oh, the ice. There wasn’t any. There were two black cubes sitting in it instead. OK, why are there rocks in my drink?

I looked up at Grace, still slightly puzzled.

“Oh those? Yeah I noticed you didn’t like it when your drink gets watered down, so I bought some Irish whiskey stones! That way your drink stays cold, but doesn't dilute. Got 'em special, just for you.”

I cocked one eyebrow slightly, “Just for me?”

“Yep! Let’s face it, you’re the only one who comes in here with that kind of class, so I put 'em in the freezer back here with a big 'ol note so Jimmy doesn’t think I’m crazy for keeping rocks in the fridge,” her airy chuckle sprinkled across my ears.

I stared. I was in shock. OK, well maybe I’m being dramatic, but I was still surprised. People don’t normally do nice things for me. Or to me for that matter. If I’m honest, they mostly run away.

“Why…” I couldn't even formulate a coherent sentence. Jesus, get yourself together!

“I dunno, I just figured you don't seem like you have anyone looking out for you, and you seem to attract a lot of the wrong sort of attention, so I thought you could use a nice surprise, y’know, cheer you up a little.”

I nodded, more in surprise than agreement. I literally couldn’t recall the last time someone voluntarily tried to do something nice, just for me, no hope or expectation of reward or compensation. I was probably silent a little too long for a comfortable conversation. Hey, I was revelling in the new experience, cut me some slack.

“Well. Wow, um, thanks.” Yeah real smooth. Sweet Mikhail’s Grave I have no idea how to actually talk to this woman.

In retrospect, that should have been my first clue, but hey, I was a little distracted.

“I appreciate it, that’s really sweet of you.” Ok that’s slightly less glaringly awkward.

“Not trying to be rude at all, but I gotta ask- what’s your deal? Like you come in here all the time, lookin’ like a million bucks, never talk to anyone, get in fights every so often, get harassed like every single time but you keep coming back? I mean, I’m not trying to pry if you don’t wanna talk, but you know, like I’m totally trying to pry!”

Now it was my turn to stare slack-jawed. Oh Fates, how your twists are cruel. I closed my mouth a lot faster than the sot from earlier though, so my pride wasn't too damaged.

“It’s kind of a long and uninteresting story really. Mostly, you make the best whiskey sour. And the people here are…interesting.”

“Honey, there’s no way a story coming from someone who looks like that,” she waved generally up and down at me, “could possibly be boring. Plus, it’s slow, as always, so humor me.”

Sometimes, I can be kind of thick. Slow. Moronic. A nincompoop. A maroon. Several minutes of conversation with this girl and I only just now noticed- she hadn’t looked away from my eyes. She was meeting my gaze with no problem. She wasn't sweating and shaking and passing out. She was looking me right in the eye, just like a normal person, no fear showing on her face. No reaction at all. Just a normal girl, having a normal conversation, with what she thought was another normal person.

“Are…you OK?” Grace looked a bit concerned.

Aw shit, I was staring, and not even trying to hide it. Well now I felt dumb. And, why did I feel dumb? What was up with this girl that she made me feel so self conscious, so uncomfortable, like one of those fainting goats that just freezes and falls over when you blink too hard at them. Speaking of blinking really hard.

“Um, oh, yeah, sorry, I’m fine. Really. Sorry, just not many people actually want to have a real conversation with me.”

Grace leaned over the bar a little, propping up on her elbows, lowering her tone a bit. “Well, I don’t know why, 'cuz you sure seem hella interesting to me.”

“Hunh. Well, I don't know about that. But I would like to ask you something first, if you don't mind?”

“Fire away honey!”

“This might sound odd, but, why aren’t you looking away? What do you see when you look at me?”

She pulled a tiny bit closer. “Nothin’ more than just about the sparkly-est green eyes I ever seen; a dash of blue, like the Bahamas. Somethin’ else I can't quite put my finger on…” as she trailed off, I felt her finger lightly brush the knuckles on my hand that was still holding my drink. “I kinda wanna find out though.”

OK, now that was smooth. Holy fuck, that was really, really smooth. Like two hundred year old Laphroaig single malt filtered through the blessed socks of His Holiness the Pope smooth. Hold up, now she was trying to pick me up? What the hell universe? What’s going on here?

I swallowed, unable to look away now myself. “That’s all? Nothing that scares you?”

“Not yet, sugar.”

Alright, that’s different.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

I grabbed her hand. Maybe a little too hard from the slight wince I saw.

“OK we need to leave. NOW.”

“Hold up honey, we were just talkin’, we ain’t there yet!” She tried pulling back a little.

“No, no, you don’t understand! I’m sorry, but you shouldn’t be able to see that. I can’t explain right now, but we have to figure out how you can see me that way.”

“But my shift’s not over for a couple more hours!”

“OK OK, I’m not being clear, sorry, this is the first time this has happened, so I’m a little shaken.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” She actually blushed a little. “I just saw how you shot down every guy who came up to you, and I thought….well, you know, maybe…omg I’m sorry I didn't mean to upset you! I come on strong sometimes, when I’m interested in something, and when you first walked in, I saw those heels and that dress, and I just was like ‘oh wow’ and kinda couldn’t breathe for a minute, you know I don't see many girls come here lookin’ like that and oh God now I’m babbling and someone please shut me up I'm so sorry…”

I put a finger over her lips, gently.

“I’m not upset. Far from it actually. But we have something a tiny bit more urgent than that to address. I’m not who you think I am. Or what, I should say. But more to the point, there’s something bigger going on here. And I need to find out what. Fast.”

“Wait, so you’re not mad I hit on you?”

“We don’t have time for that now!” She recoiled slightly at my vehemence. “No, I’m not upset, but that’s not the point! You shouldnt be able to see my eyes. My real ones anyway. I was too slow on picking that up right away, and I’m sorry, but we have to get out of here, now, because something is different, and in my world, that’s never a good thing.”

“Your world?”

I was getting frustrated. “Yes, but I’ll explain later! I need you to come with me now. We need answers, and we need them fast. So, do you trust me?”

She hesitated. “Yeeeeees? I think? Like I wanna, but I don’t really know you?”

“Good enough for now! Let’s go!”

To her credit, she just dropped her bar towel, grabbed her phone from under the bar and came out from behind it, grabbing my hand as she yelled to the back, “Hey Jimmy! I gotta leave! Personal thing- cover for me?”

Just then, there was a bit of a commotion at the door. Grace turned to look, but I didn’t need to. I already knew what was there. I just clutched her hand even tighter and yanked her towards the back; there was an emergency exit near the bathrooms from what I remembered of that one really bad 'birthday’. Yeah, that was a bad one. But we ran.

Good thing I’m not super tall, wouldn’t want to draw attention, I thought to myself sarcastically. Goddamn heels. Why do I even wear these?

Sounds of glass breaking and shouting reached us as we plowed through the emergency exit into the alleyway. Don’t worry about that now, just keep moving.

“This way!” I pulled her to the front of the alley.

“Holy shit, that’s your bike?” She sounded genuinely impressed. Finally, I wasn’t the only one who had that reaction at seeing it. 

“Oh yeah, she’s a sweet ride, and perfect for this situation. Or any situation, really. Jump on.”

I probably should have shut the door behind us, but hey, it was a day for me missing obvious things. The noise coming from the bar was getting louder.

“I’ve never done this before!” Grace exclaimed excitedly in my ear as I kicked my beast to life.

We roared out into the street, my white and gold Valentino’s left sparkling on the pavement where I kicked them. Fuckin’ useless, beautiful shoes. Sigh, they weren’t cheap. Oh well, they’re just shoes.

“Where are we going!?” Grace yelled over the rush of wind whipping our hair like tiny flails of purgatory.

“Not sure yet! But we’re going to find out!”

“I don't even know your name!”

My heart sank a bit.

“Don't worry! Neither do I! ”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The bar exploded behind us as it faded into the night thanks to the fabulous Ducati between our legs. Oh and that wasn’t metaphorical- I glanced in the mirror at the sound; it literally exploded. Ball of fire and all. I guess that’s to be expected, what with all the alcohol and what I’d suspected for a while was going on in the basement. Way too many flammable liquids in one place. But that didn't really matter now. All that mattered was getting away from what caused the explosion as fast as we possibly could. 

“What the hell was that!?” Grace yelled in my ear. Again. I’m going to have to get some headsets or something if this is going to be a habit. Well, the riding together part, not the fleeing for our lives part anyway. 

“I’ll explain as soon as we can talk, promise! For now, just hold on! And don't look behind us!" 

“As if I’m gonna let go now!”

That glance in the rear view told me as much as I needed to know, which was more than I wanted, but enough to have an idea of what we were running from. I mean, I figured that’s what it was, but I’m still tired of being right, even after all this time. You’d think I'd be used to it by now. 

That pale blue and red glow was enough. Hell, the noise it made had been enough for me to know what it was. And trust me, I was not overreacting by running first. I’d seen that color a few too many times in my life to think that there was anything else to be done except run. Once was more than enough for anyone. Who am I kidding? Most people don't get a chance to see it more than once. Guess I’m just lucky. Or the opposite. Pretty sure I’m the latter actually. 

Grace was shivering on my back as we sped away. She’d gone quiet, her mood matching the night around us, the neon signs and street lights reflecting their multi-colored halos in the rain-slicked streets. Fog was starting to rise from the pavement, adding to the soft glow the streets were taking on. Thin, wispy strands curling around street lights and bus stops, blasted into nothing as the bike tore through them, the roar of the exhaust shattering the relative quiet of the late night calm. 

Well, it should have been quiet anyway. The explosion of the bar kind of changed that. Then came the sound. 

It mixed with the growing whine from the crotch rocket under us, which seemed like a fitting counterpoint to the cacophony of something that sounded like if you’d thrown a hundred maltese dogs into a tornado and then blasted it over a crappy school intercom. I hated that sound. Almost as much as the dogs it reminded me of. 

“Aw shit, it saw us.” Time to see if the tires on this baby gripped as well as the kid at the shop claimed they did. 

Well, at least there wasn’t too much traffic. Still, even though there weren’t many trucks and accountant-driven sedans to weave in and out of, there were still enough of them that it took a hell of a lot more concentration than my alcohol soaked brain was ready to deal with. Definitely hadn’t planned on being the next Lewis Hamilton after a night at the bar, that’s for damn sure. 

“What the fuu….?” Grace’s expletive trailed off in the whipping wind as I kept us weaving in and out and through, gunning the shit out of my bike whenever there was an opening big enough to do so without turning us into extremely messy, if fashionable, pancakes.

“Try not to worry about it! OK I mean, yeah, worry, but not like understand worry!”

“How the hell do you not worry about...that!?”

I took a good look back for the first time as we whipped around a corner, using the rain-slick street to slide without losing any speed. My heart sank. At least it wasn’t in my throat choking me anymore. Sarcastic positivity in the face of death? Yeah that’s my jam. Even if I do keep it to myself. Most of the time anyway.

The damn thing was getting closer. Faster than I thought it could. Damn, tonight just wasn’t my night for noticing things, now was it?

That second of splitting my attention nearly sent us flying and a tired busboy standing at the corner bus stop to the hospital, but we only just missed him, with barely enough room to avoid slamming into the back end of something that should have been parked at a kids soccer game, not getting on the expressway at this time of night. 

Slipping into an alley entrance, Grace’s nails dug through the flimsy material I was wrapped in, making me yelp in surprise. 

“Sorry,” she muttered.

I was about to tell her it was cool, considering the circumstances, and given that I wasn’t sure if it made me jump because it hurt, or her hands were cold, or because of where they’d slid down to, when we blew out the other side of the alley, causing a literal postcard explosion from the stand I clipped as we bounced out on to the main road again, just in time to swerve hard to avoid becoming Penske poster-girls for a single truck. 

"Sweet Jesus fuck! What the hell IS that?"

Goddammit, didn’t I tell her not to look back? I wasn’t going to tell her how the beast chasing us had seen us dart down the alley, and since it couldn't fit through the traffic as neatly as we could, silently charge down the side of the building, slamming into the same shop front that had so recently lost it's postcard stand as it tried to take the same corner, still snuffling the ground and air to track us. I managed to gain us a few precious seconds of lead as it disentangled itself from the fruit cart, re-launching itself down the alley, bicycle wheel still caught in it's whiskers that streamed and whipped behind it.

“It’s running fucking sideways on the buildings!”

Aw shit. She can see it. I was afraid of that.

And that was all the distraction it needed too. 

With a last spring off the corner of an empty flower shop, the beast took a massive swipe at us. Come on, come on, make the corner! It's thick talons cut a blazing arc through the rain as it howled. One of its claws caught the rear end of the bike, knocking it heavily to the side, and nearly throwing Grace off. Good thing she’s got a death grip on my hips right now. Oh boy don’t think of that, too distracting right now, that’s how you get killed!

Grace screamed again as the bike was whipped around violently from behind, and Grace she was confronted with a vision not even her wildest nightmares could have come up with. At least, I hope she doesn’t have nightmares like this anymore. 

The beast’s jaws opened wide to crush us like a nutcracker on adderall, glowing drool whipping around in thick, viscous strands from teeth bigger than my hand, while she seemed mesmerized by the halo of tentacle-like whiskers that seemed to float in slow motion, despite how fast everything was happening. The beast looked at me, it’s eyes burning red meeting mine as I tried to maintain my grip on the bike that was rapidly being torn from my hands. I was holding on to that tank with my knees in a way that would have made the Russian Women’s weightlifting team proud. I could hear the scream that tried to jump from Grace’s mouth only for it to turn into a slow rush of soundless breath as she slammed into my back from the force of me yanking that bike around as hard as I could possibly manage. 

Ground. Street. Tires on. People off. Stay upright. Don’t let go. Run.

The bellow from the beast behind us meant nothing to me now. I was numb, my world narrowing to the few feet in front of me, and Grace behind me. Swerve. Dodge. Car. Bike. Red light. Faster. Green. Faster. Faster. Get away. Car. Car. Bus. Turn. 

Suddenly the cars all dropped away. The turnpike. Oh thank God. I opened up the throttle all the way and finally realized I should probably start breathing again. 

Grace was trying to yell something, probably wanting an explanation. I mean I can’t blame her, but I said I’d explain! Did it look like now was suddenly the time for it? Then again, maybe it was important. 

I turned my head a bit to try to talk to her, but I paused with my mouth still open. The beast was gone.Like gone gone. Vanished. Vamoosed. Not even like really far away gone, just not there any more. I squinted. Yeah, that was a little too easy.

“Did we get away?” 

I was actually about to answer her, when a glowing blue shape cashed into us from the side, just as I was starting to finally let my legs relax a little. Everything seemed to slow down. I know, everyone says that, but it’s true! I don’t know, maybe it was the whiskey sours, but as soon as we got hit, the world turned in to super slow-mo as the bike was ripped from my hands, and I felt Grace be pulled away from me. 

This thing tossed us like a couple of rag dolls thrown from a child’s stroller being kicked by a football player. Or at least it started to go that way. Somehow, as the bike ground across the pavement, with just my left hand managing to keep any kind of hold on the bike, I managed to swing myself around it like a gymnast on a gold-medal winning vault-horse routine, snagged Grace’s bar apron with my free hand, and with sheer desperate strength, yank all three back together, right as the beast’s slavering maw snapped shut on empty air where Grace’s head had been just milliseconds before. Through pure accident of positioning, my toes raked across it’s eyes as my leg swung around and I slammed them back down on the pegs, jammed the throttle all the way open, even as Grace somehow managed to complete the circle I’d pulled her in, ending by straddling my hips, arms and hair akimbo while we slid sideways, fortunately tires first. 

Grace’s eyes were wider than a kid who opened their eyes to Disneyland on a Christmas morning as she slammed into me, and I used our momentum to get the bike fully upright, only barely escaping a second snap from the beast as it lunged again, trying to tear us apart. 

That near miss, and the sigh of relief I almost let happen, didn’t get a chance to last long. 

Her damn hair was in my face, which at any other time, wouldn’t have been a problem, really, but just at that second, was incredibly, blindingly, distracting. And it might have saved our lives. 

Something hot burned into my shoulder and face as the sound of crashing metal and people yelling slammed into me. Hm, spicy.

“Shit! Watch out! Sorry!” Grace called to the one lady who wasn’t running for the hills as we smashed through her food cart. Can you get third-degree barbecue sauce burns? Food trays, sauces and meat all went flying as we dervished our way right through the middle of her street-side restaurant, sweet and spicy and sticky all at once, all over the ground, and all over me and Grace as well. I couldn’t think of anything more than just keeping everything together and moving forward. Run. The only thought occupying my mind. Just run.

“Hey.”

The softness of her voice is what brought me back to the girl squished up against me and out of the rabbit-instinct flight mode I was in. 

I don’t know why but for some reason, my brain decided that was the perfect moment to notice that I’d never realized how captivating the color brown could be. Grace’s eyes were less than inches from mine, and I froze for a second. Again. 

“I think it’s stopped.”

I glanced back. The beast had been right on top of us when we hit the food cart, but now it was standing there in the middle of the sidewalk, sniffing around for all the world like the biggest, dumbest, glowiest dog you’ve ever seen. OK, a dog that could tear a truck apart like a box of tissues, but still. 

“What the hell is it doing?” 

“Maybe it’s hungry.”

I didn’t realize I’d said that out loud. I’d never seen one of these things just...stop like that. It didn't make sense. 

No time to think of that right now, just enough time to dart down another alley, blocking the beast from view as it sat down to lap up all the spilled barbecued beef at its feet. 

As we weaved and darted through alleys and parking lots, squeezing through sidewalks and darting across small streets, I started to recognize where we were now, and had the barest inkling of a plan besides ‘get away without dying.’

“Whatever that thing is, I think it likes barbecue.”   

Grace’s whispered comment snapped me back to what was right in front of me, the whole reason I was in this kind of mess again in the first place. . 

“Hunh?”

“I think it stopped to eat at the barbecue stand we knocked over. It’s not chasing us anymore- look.”

I tried to check the mirror again, only to find they’d both been ripped off by now, so switched to glancing over my shoulder quickly, and saw no ominous glow behind us, other than the few street lamps on the small boulevard we were going down. 

“Barbecue?” I was still pretty confused. Probably drunk too. But definitely confused. 

Grace’s laugh was carried away on the night like fireworks swept away in a light breeze. “Well, I dunno what the hell that thing was, but I haven’t met anyone yet who wouldn’t drop everything for good barbecue, honey.”

Raising an eyebrow, I laughed, “Well it’s good to see I’m not the only one here who can make wildly ridiculous comments with horrible timing!”

“Funny the things you think about when you should be focusing on other stuff that’s a little more important, hunh? Like right now, all I can think about is a nice rack of ribs.” Grace grew quieter as her head sank back down on to my shoulder. “Where we headed, sugar?”

“Somewhere close. Safe. I think.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The old loft was just as dank and dirty and run down on the inside as it looked on the outside. Probably worse. No diamonds in the rough here, that’s for sure. Broken glass scattered on the beat up industrial floor scattered the glow of the streetlight through the mist that filled the space. Definitely not up to my usual standard, but hey, we couldn’t really complain too much.

Throwing an old, discarded, and probably moldy, but definitely more disgusting than I wanted to ever touch again, mover’s blanket over the plate window helped to at least hide a little bit of how gross this place looked. Plus, privacy. A quick scan around and I found a pile of old tarps and a couple skeezy mattresses that I definitely wasn’t going to think about where they’d been or who’d done what on them for how long. It’d have to do. A dirty mattress was a small price to pay for still being alive.

"It's not the Four Seasons, but it'll do for now. It's kinda cold- I don't think the building even has heat, but I think we can keep warm enough to make it through the rest of tonight at least."

Grace flopped down heavily on the mattress, exhausted, shoulders slumped, staring vacantly at the floor.

"That was...was that...I don't even know where to start. My brain's been turned to oatmeal. What…? What happened? What in the name of all fucks just happened?"

“Yeah, there’s kind of a lot to unpack here isn’t there?” I just crumpled down into one of the old blankets like a sock puppet being dropped into its nest. “I’m not even sure where to begin.”

“Ya think? Like one minute, I’m trying to mind my business, working my shift at the bar, wondering whether I’m going to have to give another statement to the cops after another bar fight breaks out, and the next I’m getting tossed around like a hot sweet-potato, almost get eaten by a glowing, walking catfish that got beaten a little too hard with the ugly stick, get covered in barbecue sauce, do-si-doed by a goddamn motorcycle ninja, only to wind up in some place that looks like it was lifted straight out of Zillow for Crackheads!”

A snort of wry, tired amusement escaped me. “Yeah, I guess it really does look that bad here. I mean, I’m surprised this place is even still standing after all this time, but you’re right, it definitely looks a bit sketchy.”

“Way to avoid the point, hun.”

“Yeah, I know.” Not sure why, but she kept making me nervous, and the way she was sort of frowning while pinning me down with those sparkling coffee eyes definitely wasn’t helping. Probably just wasn’t used to people making eye contact. Which was the whole reason I was in this mess to begin with. Another sigh. 

“Alright. I’ll explain as much as I can. You deserve that much.”

Grace flopped down on the edge of the mattress, chin propped in her hands for all the world like a kid during goddamn story time. How the hell was I supposed to concentrate when she’s doing things like that? Look away! Only way to save myself for now. 

“OK, here goes. So the thing you saw? Well, it’s a…” I scowled. “It’s a...sunuvabitch, I don’t really know what it’s called. Alright, further back then. The basics. Got it.

“Supernatural things exist. Like you believe that humans are the highest species on this planet and that you’re all alone in the universe, and no one can quite agree on whether there was anything before or after this life or what happens when you die, right? Well, a lot of what most people believe to be myth or religious superstition is actually, um, real.”

So she hasn’t tried to run away just yet. That’s a good sign, right?

“From what I’ve been able to piece together, from the bits I can remember, what you would call ‘heaven’ and ‘hell’ are real places- they’re just not really visible to mortals. Most of the time. ‘Angels’ and ‘demons’ are real things too, but they’re a little bit different than most people tend to think of them from what I’ve seen. 

“I don’t know how many there are, but there’s angels and demons walking around, living just like you and me, every day. The thing is, that mortals like you can’t see them. And that’s where the problem is.”

“Like me?” It wasn’t really a question. Her tone made that clear enough.

“Oh boy. OK, here’s the big one- because with the heaven and hell stuff, most people can be like ‘meh, it’s all superstitious nonsense anyway’ and brush it off. This? Not so much. 

“I’m not human. Or mortal. I can see angels and demons walking around plain as day, just like the ones I’ve met can see me. Mortals...see something else.”

“Like the creep at the bar earlier? Did he see...something else? In you?”

“Yeah. On the outside, at first glance, I look like any other girl. But look closer? Well, you saw what happened. People just aren’t ready to see my real nature.”

“But that didn’t happen to me.” Now Grace was looking a little bit confused- but the kind of confused you get when a teacher is explaining something that you know should make sense, even if you were having a hard time getting it. 

“No, it didn’t. And it took me way too long to pick up on that. I should’ve realized right away. If I had, maybe I could have gotten you out of there faster and that whole ‘sweet potato’ thing wouldn’t have happened.”

“So what should I be seeing? When I look into your eyes I mean?”

“Probably something along the lines of falling through an eternally expanding universe, a sense that you’re tinier than a piece of sand in the scope of the cosmos, that sort of thing. At least, that’s what I’ve heard from a couple of the ones who were able to be slightly coherent afterwards. There haven’t been many of those over the years.”

“Wow. I definitely don’t see that.”

“And that’s the problem, really. I’ve never heard of something like that happening before. I don’t know what it means, or why you can, or anything! All I know is that something is very, very different, and very, very wrong, otherwise that thing wouldn’t have been after us. And right now, I don’t know if what’s wrong is you, or me, or both of us. But we need to find out if we’re going to not be looking over our shoulders for...what did you call it again?”

Grace laughed. A genuine laugh, not weighed down by worry or terror. “A glowing, walking catfish?”

“Ha ha, yeah, that got beaten too many times with the ugly stick!”

Grace sat up suddenly, nodding sharply to herself. “Alright, well, you’re either batshit crazy, or I owe my gran an apology.” Grace was still half chuckling, but looking very intent. 

“Your gran?”

“Yeah, she was super religious, always prayin’, talkin’ and singin’ about god. She must’ve gone to church three times a week! Boy, would she have loved to hear all this.”

“I’ll bet!”

“So, I just wanna make sure I’ve got all the stuff you said- angels are real, and something’s wrong with the fact that I can see your real eyes, and not like, the fires of the Big Bang or something, but you don’t know why that’s a problem or what caused it.. Right?”

“I’d say that about covers it for now, yeah.”

“Alright, I can live with that much for now. I’m clean tuckered out, and you look like you’re about to just fall over any second now. Whaddya say we call it a night?”

“Yeah.” I really could barely keep my eyes open at this point. I guess pretending my motorbike was a juggling pin kind of took it out of me.

Grace popped up, suddenly all business.

“So doesn’t look like this place has a big ol’ tub to dump you in, so we’ll have to settle for a couple of wet wipes. Here, help me get these blankets on to the mattress here. They’re gross, but it’s better than freezing to death.”

“You’re the boss!” Those wet wipes were a pocket-sized blessing, wrapped in foil paper. I’m more of a Chanel and gunpowder type, not so big on the earthy, barbecue scents.

I was starting to stumble a bit as we plopped the discarded blankets down as well as we could in the relative darkness of the loft.

“Probably better to stay dressed with how dirty these blankets are.” Grace frowned as she watched me struggle to pick up one of the heavier blankets a couple of times.

That didn’t even register until much later.

“OK, you, lay down. No more for you tonight. Sleep.”

I couldn’t even argue with her. I just curled up in a ball on the bed, barely aware of Grace pulling a couple of the blankets over me, but I thought I could just make out her arm resting on mine as we both drifted off into the heavy, dreamless sleep that comes when you’ve been pushed to your limits. At least, I kind of hope it was. 

=============================================

Story tag list

@random-with-garlic @a-dinosaurs-left-phgkneecap @flower-in-the-ashes @nixabee @luvnaught @pens-swords-stuff @alice-and-cheshire-cat @humans-are-seriously-weird @flying-f1shsticks @Neil-gaiman @glumshoe @lykanyouko @kaylewiswrites @just-a-bit-paranoid @thatsmybluefondue @Alice-and-Cheshire-cat @violet-galaxies @biggest-gaidiest-patronuses @midnight-spectrum-again @slytherinlovespuff @friendofcybermen @hemi528i @mirbisduschoen @khelladon @walkin-in-the-cosmos

As always, if you want to be added to or removed from the tag list, just shoot me a message and your wish is my command. 

[onewhoturns]

fictober.13.: speech

#Fictober19 Prompt: 13. I never knew it could be this way. Fandom: Oxenfree Pairing: Alex/m!OC, Jonas/Alex (ambiguously maybe/maybe not one-sided) [future fic] Rating: T (no warnings apply) Tags: Alex is getting married, Jonas isn’t happy about that, implied stepcest Word Count: 2032

There’s a chime around the room as the man stands, tapping silverware against his crystal glass. Clean cut, clean shaven, well dressed, looking like he just rolled out of a J. Crew catalogue. That formal kind of casual. Everything about this event screams expensive informal.

The invite said casual wear. Jonas is under-dressed. As per usual, with this group. (Apart from Alex, that is. At least, how she dresses around him.)

“Thank you all so much for being here with us this weekend, for such a momentous event in our lives,” the man begins, his teeth too white as he smiles that too straight smile. “Alex and I are so grateful to all of you.”

Bullshit. 

Jonas’s head cocks slightly, chiding himself. That’s not fair. He probably is legitimately grateful. He’d better be.

“Before the ceremony on Sunday, I just wanted to take this opportunity - with a much smaller audience - to say a few words. So… be patient with me, okay, I usually only make speeches with a nice array of visual aides to back me up.” The room laughs politely.

The man (Jason. Jason Flemming.) clears his throat, and his lips have that little quirk that Jonas reads as smug. Which might be unfair. He has to keep reminding himself not to be unfair. Cause Alex loves him. (Maybe.)

Jason pulls out a note card, but only glances at it briefly. "I never knew it could be this way."

His hand is on the back of Alex’s chair. He’s got a watch that probably costs more than half of Jonas’s wardrobe. Jonas watches it carefully, and tries not to see Alex’s adoring look up at her fiancé. Soon to be husband. 48 hours. Less, actually. 

“I can honestly say that I am truly blessed to have Alex by my side,” Jason continues, and his hand slides onto her shoulder, squeezing for a second, even as his eyes watch the rest of the room. It’s something that irritates Jonas just a little bit. That he’d take his eyes off his bride-to-be for even a moment. “I have had the privilege to watch her grow and mature and develop into the woman she is today.”

Jonas’s jaw clenches, and he’s too focused on his breath, on keeping his temper in check, because that’s just—

“If you had told me, the night I met Alex, that years later she’d be my wife, I never would have believed you. I would have looked at her - dancing on a table, I kid you not, the night we met - and said there was no way that she could ever be tamed. Yet here we are, four years later. Alex is wearing white - and you know that’s a feat in and of itself - and my parents are thrilled to call her their daughter in law.”

Tame her. He wants to tame her. Alex isn’t meant to be tamed. Tempered, maybe, but never tamed. Yet that’s what this Jason has done. Slowly, over time, but gradually he’s been sanding away at her rough edges, polishing her up, smoothing her into something pretty to stick on his shelf.

Maybe.

All of this is conjecture on Jonas’s part, of course. It’s not like it’s something Jason has done maliciously. And Alex may have been just as complicit. But it feels wrong.

“Tonight never would have been possible without all of you; our family and friends,” he goes on. “I’m sure my own parents are well aware of our gratitude and - well, mom, I’m sure Alex is thankful for the pearls as well-” Pearls. Alex in pearls. It’s too cookie-cutter country club. Jonas glances to Alex, finally, and she’s looking just a little nervous. A little bit put on the spot, offering a crooked smile to her very blonde soon-to-be mother-in-law. “-but I want to extend my personal thanks to Alex’s family as well.” Jason himself has dark hair, like his dad. Who’s wearing Hugo Boss. To a rehearsal dinner that was labeled casual.

“To Alex’s father, David; thank you. Without you, this never would have been possible.”

Without David’s threat to stop paying Alex’s tuition. Alex had been utterly distraught, and Jonas had been the one comforting her through it, through her security crisis, when she felt like she was just hovering over a precipice of no education and no savings. The ‘compromise’ that had come to pass moved Alex out of their house and into her dad’s. She got Thanksgivings with them, but Christmas was with the new family. Jonas knows she never really felt at home there. It was why she took every break she could to come visit. But it was never the same, not really. They never had what they used to. Not that Jonas didn’t want it.

“To Alex’s stepmother, Anne; thank you, for your kindness and hospitality. You truly are the perfect hostess, and I honestly think my mother envies you.”

Translation: good little housewife. Alex may not have brought it up recently, but that was one of those things she’d mentioned a lot after the move. Feeling like she had to be performing around her new extended family. Like she was constantly being judged, like they were deciding if she was worth the investment. She was terrified, and Jonas was her shoulder to cry on as often as he was her guilty pleasure. Not— not like that. Not since they were teens. But he was the one she could wear sweats around every day, and stay up with til 2 watching horror movies (her choice, not his), and unabashedly eat all the processed foods banned in Anne’s home. He was her pillow and her ride home and the reluctant participant in every instance of acting out that she couldn’t do around her dad. Well, maybe not every instance. He got the inside scoop on some of her wild nights in college as well.

Until Jason. Until fucking Stephanie, and Casey, and Jason. Being brought into the Stepford fold, as he so uncharitably considered it (to himself, never aloud). Their gentle guidance.

It’s not fair— Jonas knows it’s not fair to think of them that way. Alex really does like them. And he’s met them and… well, aside from being kinda… basic, they aren’t too bad. Just sorta boring. Not exactly the type to go breaking into old amusement parks, or climbing around unfinished construction sites, or deciding that 21 was the year to cross bungee jumping off of her bucket list. They were cosmopolitans, she was a shot of jaeger with a coffee chaser. Unorthodox, and an acquired taste that you couldn’t really forget. Also, maybe a little fucked up on the palate. His lips twitch at that thought.

“To Alex’s mother, Grace; thank you. I have never felt such warmth as I do around you and Martin. Martin, as well, you have always made me feel part of the family.”

Jonas’s dad is smiling. He’s too easygoing. And Jason is… unobjectionable, Jonas supposes, grudgingly. Business major. Not a frat boy, but still in a fraternity. He’s generous, at least, and conscientious. Always makes an effort to follow up on things they’ve talked about in the past. He can even dial down the rich-kid thing, when he stays with them in Camena. But that’s kinda the annoying part; that he’s not that bad. Just irritatingly unobjectionable. He’s nice to Alex, he is. He’s patient with her. And he’s soft and affectionate when it matters, but… But Jonas still gets her calls when she’s upset about something. He’s still the one getting called at 3am so she won’t wake up her fiancé with panic from nightmares.

“To Alex’s brothers—”

Jonas tries not to wince. Aside from just the dropping of the step distinction, being compared to Alex’s other stepbrother is… well, insulting. The douche is a workaholic med student, who’s never in a good mood. Who can never resist the chance to throw insults at Jonas over his vocational schooling and lack of a four-year degree. In layman’s terms: Will is an asshole.

“Will; I am thrilled to no longer be the youngest child! Finally, someone to give noogies to, and lecture about— well, nothing, you’re way more educated than I am,” he grins as the room laughs. Will is smirking, and Jonas resists the urge to roll his eyes. “I fully believe that you will be the next top surgeon wherever you decide to take your talents after residency.” Optimistic, assuming the douche is gonna be a half-decent doctor, when Jonas already knows his bedside manner must be horrific.

“Jonas;” Jonas tries to put on a slight smile. It’s easier if he looks at Alex, whose eyes are bright and appreciative and warm when she looks at him. “I really do have to thank you.” Jason sounds sincere. It almost makes Jonas feel guilty. Almost. “From the bottom of my heart. I have no doubt-” Jason breaks off, speaking more casually, speaking to the room at large, with a crooked smile that feels like something he probably picked up from Alex; “-Have you guys met Jonas? Look, when I started dating Alex— he’s an intimidating guy, right?” Jason grins, looking back at him. “I have no doubt that if you ever thought I wasn’t good enough for your baby sister I would’ve been kicked to the curb in a matter of seconds - either literally or figuratively.” Baby sister. Yeah, he’s never thought of her that way. Though the rest of that is… close. There may have been times Jonas grumbled that Alex’s boyfriend wasn’t quite enough of a dick to actually deserve a threatening.

Jason goes on, jokingly. “I always have this sneaking suspicion that Alex only gave me a chance because she misread my name as Jonas instead of Jason.” There’s a tittering of laughter, and Jonas’s eyes flick to Alex, who’s blushing a little, a hand over her eyes as she shakes her head. She’s still smiling, though. It’s cute. “So for that I have to be insanely thankful.” It’s less cute when Jonas spots Jason’s hand rubbing reassuringly at Alex’s shoulder.

“Alex goes to you for everything - I think your name comes up more than the rest of my entire family-” he jibes, teasingly. It’s frustrating that he’s having a good sense of humor about this. When Jonas has always felt a little… guilty. About that. “...and you have been the most supportive stepbrother she could have ever asked for.” Oh. Oh that’s something that makes Jonas’s lips curve up a bit with his own little touch of pride. Because that’s Jason siding with him over Will. Which is kinda nice.

“It’s a little unorthodox to have a Man of Honor, but Alex has always been a little outside the box. And, I’ll admit, I was pretty jealous of you once upon a time.” Again, Jonas looks to Alex, who’s rolling her eyes, but hasn’t taken her eyes off of him. She’s still blushing. It kinda makes his stomach flip a little bit. “But taking the girls to Vegas, that was really taking one for the team, and your patience is utterly commendable— being the cock in the hen do, so to speak.” Jason has that slightly sheepish smirk as a few people - including Alex - giggle a bit at the words.

Right. Vegas. That had been…

Jonas’s brow furrows for just a second as he studies Alex. She’s still bright eyed and glowing. Like a girl in love. Even if he’s… he’s just not sure if she is. Not after Vegas.

“But that’s enough about that,” Jason smiles, gesturing to the room in a sort of apology for going on. “Suffice it to say; I’m thrilled to have not one but two new sets of parents to buy Christmas gifts for, and two new siblings to rib me about all of my bad life decisions. Luckily— I know that this isn’t one of them.” Jason finally looks at Alex. And… yeah, okay. He looks happy too. In love. Which… well. It’s good, probably. At least he’ll care about her.

“So I invite you all to raise a glass. To all of them, and to Alex. For being exactly what I needed.”

[source for AO3]

[christophe-delorne]

Good Dog

Chapter 7

Warnings: Excessive swearing

Pairings: Gregory x Christophe

AU: Adulthood

The air port was crowded, with summer beginning, people were filing in for vacation travel. Christophe had never actually properly experienced something the average person would call a vacation, he'd never be able to enjoy himself anyways. He'd been on pretend vacations, a couple with Gregory, faking being happily together while undercover for one reason or another. He hated those times the worst. Though he was certain this whole trip was going to top the list in being the worst trip. He hated America, well more so he hated the people living in it. Gregory said he was just over reacting, well, he wasn't the one to have technically died during their little trip to America as kids.

"Come now, Christophe, grab our bags, we are supposed to check in the hotel in an hour. With traffic the way it is, we will be hard pressed to make it there in time." Gregory's voice broke through Christophe's thoughts, drawing him back to the present, which wasn't exactly what he wanted. Every so often, someone would brush passed him and it was grating on his nerves. Not to mention he hadn't been able to smoke a single cigarette in over eleven hours, he was not in the best of moods to be dealing with people.

Muttering under his breath, Christophe picked the bags off the conveyor belt and extended their handles so he could roll them. As usual Gregory had denied Christophe the right to use his tattered old and trusty suitcase, instead insisting on using suitcases that looked like they cost more than what he spent in an entire year. Or two. Gregory was always one to show off his wealth in subtle ways, elegant, refined, no need to flaunt extravagantly when everyone knew his wealth and status. Christophe pulled the bags behind him as he followed after Gregory, at least the man was useful in the way people seemed to part for him, unlike for some grungy, short Frenchman with an attitude problem.

As they neared the exit doors, Christophe tensed, his gaze flickering towards someone who was approaching them directly ahead with focus set on them. He was ready to step in front of Gregory and attack when Gregory smiled and opened up his arms in welcome. The other person, who Christophe was still trying to figure out, smiled and rushed up to hug Gregory in return. Christophe relaxed in one sense but only felt irritable in another. He turned his head, deciding in favor to observe their surroundings that deal with this shit again.

"Gregory! Its been so long since I've seen you. How was your flight?" Black hair, short but styled in a way that made the person appear male, but Christophe couldn't be fore certain. Something was off, something that maybe the untrained eye couldn't see, but for someone who was used to disguising himself, Christophe knew better. However, Gregory seemed to have been expecting them and didn't glance at Christophe to give the Frenchman any hint to be on guard. So whatever secret this person was hiding, wasn't important enough to warrant further investigation from Christophe.

"Long and dreary, I'm afraid. However, worth the trip to be here once more. So catch me up on all the details on the ride to the hotel, yes?" Gregory had already hooked his arm into the crook of this stranger, seeing how Gregory didn't bother to introduce Christophe, it appeared that his services weren't required. So he just trailed silently after them, having no inclination to join the casual banter anyways. Corprate politics and boring lives of the stranger didn't appeal to Christophe. As they reached the car finally, Christophe shoved the suitcases into the back of the car, a sleek charcoal gray color. Probably electric if Christophe had to guess, but not exactly a family car either.

When Christophe slammed the trunk closed, this seemed to finally catch the stranger's attention, scowling at Christophe in annoyance because he'd been a little too rough with their car. Christophe stared back, daring the other to say something. Eleven fuckin' hours without a god damn smoke in economy class seating, Christophe was not in the mood and was just looking for a fight at this point.

"Ah, my apologies, I got so distracted trying to catch up, I forgot to introduce you two. Christophe, this is Wendyl, Wendyl, this is my co-working, Christophe." Gregory seemed to catch onto the tension and smoothly interjected to cleanly break it.

"Christophe?" Wendyl looked over to Gregory as if trying to gain further information but Gregory provided none. However, Wendyl seemed to be smart enough to start connecting the dots as he turned his gaze back to Christophe. "As I recall, you were the one who failed to save Terrance and Phillip when we were kids. Stan mentioned it a while back, but Kyle doesn't talk much about it."

"I failed?!" Christophe fired off, slamming his fist on the trunk, causing it to dent before Christophe moved around the car towards Wendyl, or Wendy, whichever they decided to call themselves now days. He'd never met them, but when they were kids, Stan hadn't shut up about her at the time. To think that people thought he was to blame for what happened back then, when it wasn't even his fight to begin with? He'd died because of the incompetence of those three other boys, it was an insult to his very name.

"Christophe, that was a long time ago, as adults, we forgive what was done as children and move on." Gregory tried to appease for once, he knew Christophe's death had been a serious, traumatic event. For both of them.

"Fuck off, Gregory." Christophe turned his seething glare onto Gregory, infuriated that he'd bring someone from that God forsaken town here, after everything they'd done to the both of them. He didn't care about the warning look on Gregory's face, Christophe would not stand for this, he'd done so many things for Gregory, but not this, Not ever. "Fuck all, I'm out. Don't even fuckin' think about crawling to me cryin' because some salope broke your pathetic heart again." Christophe waved off, dismissing the both of them and turning on his heel before either one of them could retort.

He needed a cigarette, needed to calm his nerves and stay away from anyone that even seemed familiar in this country. Eventually, he'd return to Gregory, he always did, but he needed space. He walked. And walked. With no direction in mind, just needed to move, to get as much distance as he could from Gregory. The betrayal was still raw, as if it all happened yesterday. Gregory might be able to forgive and forget, but the scars on Christophe's body would never allow him to forget. He could remember the way Gregory had looked at him that day, a sign of weakness, one Christophe had never seen again in their years together. Whatever humanity Gregory had left had been destroyed that day, all because of the people from South Park.

Christophe enter a convenience store, blindly searching for the nearest place to buy a pack of cigarettes. Of course, he used Gregory's card, the asshole owed him a pack for his troubles anyways. Christophe was all too eager to get outside so he could at least calm his addiction down. Tossing the plastic wrap in a nearby bin, he tore into the pack for a fresh cigarette, using the cheap lighter he'd bought, he lit the tip. The tip flared as Christophe sucked at the cigarette, trying to get that fix to calm his nerves.

"Hankerin' for a smoke that badly, huh?" A voice interrupted his moment of bliss, lowering his brows and glaring a warning at the man beside him. Tall, messy blond hair, looked more like a homeless person than anything. However, Christophe didn't look much better most days, so he wasn't one to judge. "Mind if I bum one off ya?"

Annoyed, he studying the other male, appeared to be his age, blue eyed with a cocky grin. Something was off about him though, so Christophe humored him for the time being. He tapped the bottom of the pack, sending a cigarette up through the slot in the top before offering it to the homeless man. The blond took it with a little laugh, placing the cigarette between his lips, leaning forward to allow Christophe to light it for him.

"Thanks bunches, Chris."

"If you know my name then you know that you should probably get the hell away from me."

"C'mon, we're practically close buddies. What's a lil' death between friends, right?"

Christophe raised a brow and pulled heavily on his cigarette as he reassessed the man beside him, not a lot of people knew about his death. Only the three boys did and he was certain this was not one of those boys. "Since you know my name, its only fair if you give me yours."

"We both know nothing in this hell hole is fair. Buuut..." The blond seemed to grin, too optimistic, perhaps a little crazy. Or maybe that's what he wanted people to think, he'd seen those types before. People won't look closely into someone if they were someone they didn't want to be around. Overly optimistic people, homeless, acting a little odd, all signs that the average person would avoid. "I guess I owe it to ya', since we didn't get to properly meet last time. You can call me Kenny and I'm here to help you on your little mission."

So it appeared Kenny was a well informed man and that alone was enough to warrant Christophe's caution. People who had too much information were dangerous and nobody in the world helped others from the kindness of their hearts. They were always trying to gain something for themselves, Christophe was no exception either.

"What's in it for you?"

"Well, I've always fancied myself as a kind of super hero. One for justice and all. But I take it you won't be satisfied with that answer, huh?" Christophe gave a slight shake of his head, only idiots thought themselves as superheroes. "I'm doing it to save a couple people I love. You know how people do anything for that, yeah? Pluuus." Kenny went on, leaning a little closer to Christophe, he could smell old clothes but underneath there was a hint of expensive perfume. Likely to be missed by the untrained, but Christophe had his senses on high alert always. It was part of his job to collect information, who knew when it might be vital to the mission.

"I can get you all the information you need."

"Why do you need me then?" Christophe flicked a bit of ash of the tip of his cigarette, it all seemed too convent for his liking.

"This job requires more than one person to complete. Its far too big for me to handle on my own. And, as you well know, I can't really rely on my dumbass childhood friends to help me. They don't have the necessary requirements to see this job through."

Christophe considered it, Kenny was right, it wasn't often one came across someone who had the abilities like Christophe did. However, if Kenny knew about him, about the mission, he'd also know about Gregory. So why not approach the Brit instead? Gregory was the planner, Christophe was simply the worker.

"You know I only take orders from Gregory. If you want me to do something, go talk to that asshole."

"Nah, I don't like talkin' to the Man in charge, I prefer one on one with the little guys. More comfortable for me that way." Kenny dug around in his worn out second hand pockets, pulling out a crumbled up bit of paper. "Here, this is my phone number. If you need anything give me a ring, maybe I'll let you buy me a drink sometime too." Kenny gave him a wink before snuffing out his cigarette on the top of a trash can before disposing it into the cigarette disposal.

"Like hell." Christophe grumbled a reply, looking down at the paper pressed into his hand. Well, it was a start and he'd tell Gregory about the encounter later. Right now he was still being pissed at the man and going back would only result in getting punished for the way he'd acted. He wasn't really looking forward to that right now, so he might as well investigate Denver a little before heading to the hotel. He watched as Kenny waved at him before crossing the street, Christophe didn't bother to return it. He'd never been the friendly sort.

[artificialqueens]

Something’s Been Different Lately (Witney) - Albatross

AN: Second attempt at writing in this fandom. Any constructive criticism is welcomed and appreciated. Bonus points if you know the book the ending dialogue was inspired (loosely) by. Willam - male pronouns, Courtney/Shane - female pronouns, just for the sake of simplicity.

“Willam…you were quite loud last night,” Courtney said pointedly as she worked on applying her makeup for the show tonight. The man in question looked up from the mirror he had been painting in front of and glanced back at Courtney with a slightly shamed but clearly proud smile as he replied nonchalantly, “Sorry.” “Doubt it,” the blonde shot back in a huff. She felt utterly tense at addressing the situation with her best friend but it was something she had to do for her own sanity. Last night wasn’t the first time she’s overheard Willam’s liaisons; steadily they have become more frequent, particularly as they joined the same tour last month. At first she tried to ignore it but recently it had become harder and harder not to listen, particularly as Willam had started becoming quite vocal during them. The previous night had been the final straw and Courtney resolved to talk with him about it. She couldn’t stand hearing the other queen moaning and calling out other men’s names late into the night. Not as she laid in her bed next door desperately fighting the urge to cry as she did all she could to block out the noise. Turning around at the sharp comment, Willam took in the other queen’s discomfort with a vaguely furrowed brow. It seemed unusual to him that Courtney would be so irritated by this as they had all heard more than their fair share of tour mates hooking up at all hours of the night. The two stared each other down through Courtney’s mirror but as usual, she was the first break eye contact and return to her work. Silently, Willam removed himself from the chair he had been firmly seated in and joined Courtney at her own station. He waited patiently as the other queen applied the final touches to her eyebrows before wrapping an arm around the blonde’s shoulders and pulling her close. “Hey, if it bothers you that much, just bang on the wall next time and tell us to shut the fuck up,” the younger queen joked. Less than amused, Courtney stared up the dirty blonde with a stony expression on her half-painted face. Willam’s eyebrows raised slightly at the reaction and said semi-apologetically, “Or we could just ask to have rooms on different floors or something…” Courtney’s icy glare immediately cracked at the thought of being further separated from her friend. Hurriedly, she dismissed that idea and offered, “We don’t have to go that far…just…maybe keep it down a little so I can tune it out with the TV?” Willam’s smirk returned as he ruffled Courtney’s natural hair and promised, “Alright, I can work with that.” Courtney swatted his hand away with a smile and returned to completing her makeup routine. Despite the supposed air of finality on the subject; Willam wasn’t inclined to leave Courtney’s side just yet. He openly studied the older queen until he felt the urge to blurt out, “When’s the last time you got laid, anyway?” Courtney thanked the gods above that she hadn’t been applying her lip liner right at that second and froze in pure shock with the pencil hoving just millimeters away from her skin. She felt the blood rising to her cheeks as she stared at Willam through the mirror. Fighting the overwhelming desire to flee immediately from the dressing room, she asked cautiously, “Why do you ask?” “That long, huh?” Willam asked, smirk wider than ever now that he had pegged the other queen’s problem. “I don’t want to talk about it,” Courtney replied hastily as she carelessly drew on her top lip. She might be read later for the sloppiness but right now all she was focused on was making herself look decent enough so that she hide anywhere else until the show started. Before she was able to attempt the lower lip, Willam gently pulled the pencil from her hand and turned her chin up to face him. “Come on now, it’s that bad. At least not enough to willfully booger your own makeup just to escape.” Courtney sat in a stunned, embarrassed silence as Willam carefully evened out the liner on top and drew the bottom to proportion out the illusion. “There…a little overdrawn but you’re pretty again.” “Thanks,” Courtney mumbled shamefully as she turned away to find the right shade of lipstick amongst her strewn supplies. “Use this one,” Willam said as he plucked one from the pile and handed it to her. Courtney’s eyes shot to Willam’s then down to the hand extended towards her before hesitantly accepting the tube. While she ran the color over her lips, Willam pressed on with his inquiry, “I didn’t mean anything by it, Court…You just seem a little…wound up lately, I guess.” “Its been awhile…” Courtney admitted vaguely. She remembered every detail of when she last had sex; who it was with, what had happened during and after…what it made her realize…But that was none of Willam’s business and she intended to keep it that way. “Thought so,” Willam trailed off. Courtney took the reprieve from questioning to rush through the remaining steps needed to become the Courtney Act everyone expected to see that night. She was moments away from pinning in her hair and running out the door when Willam placed a gentle hand on her upper arm. It took all she had not to shiver at the contact as she listened to Willam apprehensively asking her, “Why don’t you join me tonight?” Her jaw dropped slightly as she choked out several incoherent syllables in a pathetic attempt to create a proper sentence. “And some trade I’m hooking up with after the meet and greet,” Willam added quickly before muttering to himself with an eye-roll, “He’s already seen what I look like; I bet he’d jump at the chance to fuck someone prettier.” Courtney fought the urge to grab Willam and shake him for talking down on himself. Every time she heard Willam insulting himself or giving himself a back-handed compliment, her heart broke a little. But all she could bring herself to do at the moment was anxiously bite her lip as she considered the proposal. She knew there were a million ways for this to blow up in her face but it had been so long…and she trusted that Willam had the best intentions by asking her. Seeing the internal struggle play out on his best friend’s face, Willam continued on, “Don’t feel like you have to say ‘yes’ for my sake; it’s totally up to you…You could even just watch if you want and join in on whatever you feel comfortable with. I can check with him but I don’t think he’d have a problem with it.” With a heavy sigh, Courtney took one last look at the hope in Willam’s eyes and made her decision. She nodded with a timid smile and agreed on the condition that Willam check with the man first before fully committing. The grin Willam returned to her made the inevitable heartbreak almost seem worth it. Within the hour, Willam had received confirmation of the other man’s approval and proudly announced it to Courtney…as well as half of the venue’s staff as the queens made their way to the stage for their performance. If she had to be honest with herself, Courtney had wished multiple times throughout the waiting period that the unknown trade would refuse but now she seemed stuck to at least follow her friend back to their hotel room. She tried her best to remain optimistic for what lay ahead for the remainder of the night but not even Willam’s giddy excitement could ease the growing queasiness in her stomach. **************************** Following the end of the show, the queens did a quick touch up to their faces for the meet and greet and then rushed back to the hotel once the final fan had left. Courtney had not thought to ask Willam to describe the mystery man prior to meeting him but one look around the hotel lobby and she easily picked out Willam’s target for the night. He was tall, tan and clearly hit the gym more often than most; in short, he was 100% Willam’s type. At a glance, Courtney might’ve even found him attractive not so long ago but tonight her mind was on another man she’d rather have. Willam let the two introduce themselves, seemingly learning for the first time that the man’s name was Marco, and led the way back to his room. Marco was less than subtly checking out the queens as they walked a few paces in front of him and left little doubt that he internally licking his lips at what the night held for him. Despite the easy going nature he displayed in the lobby, Courtney still felt uncomfortable and slightly out of place as he followed behind them. Willam glanced over to her friend and pulled her close to whisper excitedly in her ear, “I did good, huh? Just wait till you see his dick! He sent me a pic last night and ooh, bitch, I damn near drove myself the 6 hours it took to get here.” Courtney gave the other queen an awkward smile and remained silent. Somewhere in the back of her mind a tiny voice was screaming at her to just go back to her own room and let herself cry herself to sleep; whatever happened tonight wouldn’t be worth the pain tomorrow. But she told Willam she’d join…so she’d at least put up a good front during the night’s escapades. As they turned down the final hallway, Willam uncapped the bottle of poppers around his neck a took a deep whiff. She blinked her eyes as the familiar sensation took over her body and offered the bottle to Courtney who declined with a polite shake of her head. Brushing off the refusal, Willam asked gleefully, “Been awhile since we shared one, huh? What’s it been, 5 months?” and noticeably sped up as the room came into view. “Sounds about right…” Courtney replied vaguely as she watched her friend whip out the card key and open the door with an air of heavy practice. She knew exactly how long ago they had last spent the night together with some common trade; 5 months, 2 weeks, and 4 days…Courtney remembered all too well what had happened…The night was typical for them; show, meet and greet, then out to have a little fun at a nearby club. They had just enough to drink to make the idea of having a threesome before an early flight the next morning seem like the most brilliant plan of the century. They bickered back and forth for a good 20 minutes over who they would take to bed with them but finally they settled on a what seemed to be a happy medium; a verse top just a few years younger than them with an open mind and a beautifully toned body. It took less convincing (and alcohol) than they thought to lure him back to Willam’s room, especially considering that by that point it would be generous to say they had looked anything like the gorgeous queens that would appear in tomorrow’s Instagram photos of the show. All the same, the man eagerly allowed himself to be enveloped by the queens on either side of him. Hell, he even encouraged them to have some fun with each other as well and that was the moment Courtney pegged as the beginning of her descent into perpetual heartache. They had kissed often enough before, even had gone so far as to give one another a handjob when they got too wound up on the road. But that night when they kissed something felt…off. Courtney blamed the alcohol for a serious case of beer-goggles because even with his smeared lipstick, glittery eye shadow extending down his cheeks, and painted eyebrows half wiped off; Willam still looked amazing to her. She wanted to tear the other queen’s wig off, run her fingers through his natural curls and kiss him till there wasn’t a trace of lipstick between the two of them. But she quickly pushed the thought away and focused her sight back on their one night stand. The queens took their turn with him and he basked in the attention he received from them. Courtney had her chance first and was left utterly satisfied, at least physically. Usually when they would share for the night, as soon as one queen was finished, she’d excuse herself to clean up and often times would remain in the bathroom or at least out of sight as the other had their fun. They might switch back once or twice for a second round but once they actually began fucking, that was the cue for the other to keep their distance. That night Courtney dared to cross the line. She remained on the bed and watched as Willam laid on his back taking every inch of the nameless man and begged for more. Something in that moment broke down the wall Courtney had unknowingly built and she wanted nothing more than to be the one making Willam scream for her. Without thinking about it, she had climbed over top of Willam and kissed him. Far from being repulsed by the behavior, he pulled Courtney in closer and ran his hands over every inch of skin he could reach. Courtney broke their lip lock with a sharp gasp as she felt Willam’s hand wrapped around her and pump in time with man thrusting into him. He was coming apart beneath her as he neared his own release but instead of the previous moans of broken syllables, he seemed to have only one name stuck to his lips; hers. As he was drawn closer and closer to the edge, she marked her territory on his skin, painting his neck and chest with the remainder of her lipstick and with what would later develop into noticeable hickies the next morning. With a final cry of her name, Willam came and shuddered violently beneath her but never loosening his grip. Seeing him fall apart so completely with only her in his thoughts made her wish more than anything that she had been the one inside him. But all the wishing in the world wouldn’t change the fact that it would only ever be his hand that she felt on her member and with a final cry of his name, she released onto his hand and stomach. At some point the unknown man finished and took his leave. For the life of her, Courtney could not even remember how long it took him to cum or if he cleaned himself off before exiting. All that played through her mind was the imagery of Willam panting and moaning beneath her, cumming with her name on his lips like it was her driving him over the edge. He had passed out less than half an hour after the session ended, barely even cleaning up and getting a pair of underwear on before collapsing between the sheets. His last act was to wrap an arm around Courtney’s waist as she leaned against the headboard in disbelief over what had happened. She wanted to run back to her room and scream at the overwhelming realization of her emotions but when she looked down at the drowsy man beside her, she found she couldn’t bear to leave his side just yet. Pushing aside her growing worry for now, she slipped underneath the covers and pulled Willam closer to her. Though she would never bring it up with Willam (who’d deny it anyway) she swore she saw the corners of his mouth turn upwards into a small smile right before she fell into an exhausted slumber. When she awoke a few hours later, she disentangled herself from her sleepy friend and made the walk of shame back to her own room but not before turning out the lights Willam had left on in preparation for the inevitable hangover he’ll have the next morning. At best she would only have enough time for an hour or two more of sleep before having to get both Willam and herself checked out in order to make it to their flight on time so she decided to take the chance to work out exactly what made her act the way she had during that supposedly NSA hookup. Willam had always held a special place in her group of friends. Despite the constant teasing, he did show genuine concern for her when she needed it. Emotions were not his strong suit but the effort he made to help meant all the world to her. Besides that, he was just plain fun to be around. He could always make her laugh even on the shittiest days and despite the questionable situations they found themselves in, he never intentionally did anything to put her in danger. He was both her escape and her grounding in reality; they brought out the best and worst in each other and weren’t afraid to call each other out on their bullshit. To put it bluntly, they fit together like yin and yang. They certainly could function on their own but when brought together they offered the perfect counterbalance to each other’s personalities. Yet despite how it looked on paper, there was still the reality of their working life that made the idea of a relationship seem entirely irresponsible at best. Courtney knew this but that did nothing to alleviate her feelings and she was quite certain Willam did not return them in the any capacity. It could be argued that his jabs at her were nothing more than an adult version of the playground teasing a child did towards their crush but Courtney very much doubted it. No one was immune to his taunting once they became close enough with him; it was pretty much his default form of communicating with those he cared about. That fact alone almost made the situation more bearable; knowing she had no chance with him and thus little opportunity to fuck up what they already had provided some relief from the ever increasing anxiety that accompanied her thoughts on the situation. But although that part of the equation provided some solace, it did nothing to stop the jealousy and hurt that sprang up when she happened to overhear his frequent hookups. He was just as happy to spill the details the next day even as her responses grew increasingly more bitter. Even the morning following their mutual tryst, he ignored the pounding in his head in order to ecstatically compare notes with her of what they could both remember. “And damn, Court! You really did a number on my chest! Looks like someone attacked me with a fucking vacuum.” She knew he was exaggerating for comedy’s sake but even through the layer of makeup he had used to cover the most visible marks, she saw she had in fact left quite an impression on his skin. She tried to feel guilty about it, she truly wanted to, but again the thought of marking her territory worked its way back into her mind even though she knew it would never be true. That had been the last time she had sex but certainly not the only time she tried. Immediately following their next show, Courtney wasted little time in finding another man to spend the night with. She quickly found a willing participant and eagerly led him back to her room. He was far from her usual type and that was exactly what she had hoped for. She wanted to forget herself in himself, begged the heavens for it even, but after 10 minutes of unsuccessful foreplay it was clear that nothing was going to happen that night that’d be worth writing home about. Instead she offered oral as something of consolation prize and parted ways with him immediately after. The same results came about when she tried again next week, as well as a few days after that. No matter who she selected, each attempt ended in relative failure leading up to going nearly six months of unwilling abstinence. To say she was frustrated at this point would be an understatement. She had a slight hope that maybe tonight something would change that but given her latest track record, it seemed unlikely. Nearly the second the door had been closed, Willam crowded Marco against the bed. He seemed to appreciate the slightly aggressive manhandling Willam displayed as he sat him of the edge of the mattress and carefully pulled down the zipper. Courtney was actually quite taken aback at how forward Willam was being tonight. Usually he took his time to tease his partners before giving them what they wanted. He loved getting them riled up, pushing them to the edge and back by denying them what they wanted until they begged for the privilege of using his body. He practically got off on the thought alone of making men crave him to the point where they were willing to sacrifice their pride for just one night of pleasure with him. But tonight Willam went straight to the point and made it clear that he did not want to wait to begin that night’s activities. The boxers were barely out of the way before Willam had his lips wrapped around Marco. Courtney stood in shock as she watched Willam work his mouth in a way only he knew how. Her fingers twitched as she felt the familiar sting of envy pierce her heart like a needle. Part of her was angry, enough that she was tempted to walk out right then but another part yearned to stay. She felt compelled to watch; it would be the closest she could get to the real thing while still staying safe in the protective bubble she had created. Tonight she would allow herself to be a voyeur, simply taking in the sights while staying behind their unspoken boundary this time. As Willam focused on his own task, Courtney settled into a nearby chair and remained out of his line of sight. Marco however made it a point to watch her rather than the one currently servicing him. He gave her a small smirk and slid his fingers through Willam’s faux blonde locks. He slowly pulled away to remind the other man, “Watch the hair…” Instantly Marco turned on the charm and offered an apology. He smiled down at Willam who spun on his knees to ask Courtney, “Want a turn?” Courtney’s eyes shot from Marco then down to Willam as a light pink tinted her cheeks. She timidly shook her head and replied softly, “No, I’m fine.” Willam nodded and turned his attention back to Marco for another minute before pulling off with a loud final 'pop’. He stood up to whisper something in Marco’s ear and was met with an ardent grin. The two eagerly discarded their clothes as Willam dug through his suitcase for the lube and condoms he always seemed to keep on hand. As he returned to the bed, Marco crashed his lips to Willam’s for a brief moment before asking huskily in his ear, “How do you want it?” Courtney saw a fleeting look of hesitation pass across Willam’s face and leant forward in curiosity. Willam had never faltered in front of her before. Even when he knew something was a terrible idea, if he thought there was even the slightest chance things might work out, he’d plow right along all the way up to the moment where it blew up in his face. That stubborn optimism was one of the qualities she had found so endearing about him but tonight she wished more than ever that he would listen to his sense of reason and call it quits. But that was not Willam’s way and he flickered his eyes back to Courtney’s for a brief moment before answering, “I want to watch her…” She felt her cheeks burning and a surge of pleasure shot straight to groin. Her eyes connected with Willam’s as he positioned himself on hands and knees facing her direction while Marco slipped on the condom. As soon as the first lubed finger pressed at his entrance, his teeth caught his lower lip in anticipation of what was to come. Again, a wave of jealousy washed over Courtney but watching Willam’s face contort in pleasure as Marco prepped him was almost worth it. The soft noises of pleasure that escaped Willam were like music to her ears. If she could be the one eliciting them, she would gladly listen for the rest of her life. Marco continued to stretch him until he easily took three fingers and was nearly begging for something more. Taking the cue, Marco withdrew the digits and lined himself up with Willam’s entrance. Courtney forced down a thick swallow as Marco carefully guided himself in and drew out a satisfied moan from the man beneath him. He paused his movements until Willam adjusted to the change, then made quick work of setting a fitting pace for both of them. Through it all, Courtney never took her eyes off Willam. She felt a rush of shame develop in the pit of her stomach as she slipped a hand beneath her dress and palmed herself through the thin panties she had worn. Part of her hated the way she was getting so worked up at the sight of her best friend being fucked by another man but it was hard not to react when he was making such a show of it. With a glazed look in his eyes, Willam purposefully dropped his gaze down to Courtney’s hidden hand. In a breathless voice, he begged her to come over and like a puppy eager to please, she was out of her seat before the final syllable passed his lips. Balancing himself on one hand, he reached up to grab the front of Courtney’s dress and pull her down to his level. He brought his lips close to hers but paused once he got within an inch of touching them. He was panting heavily now with each graze over his prostate and struggled to find the right words to speak. Daring to bridge the gap, Courtney crashed her lips to his in a manner so frenzied she inwardly cringed at her own desperation. Willam made no effort to rebuke the action and kept the fabric of her dress clutched tightly in his hand. The two held the heated lip lock as long as they could until a lack of air forced them to separate in order to catch their breath. Recovering quickly, Courtney leant back in to begin again but halted as Willam released her from his grip. Clumsily, he traced his hand down to her thigh and paused at the hemline. “C-Can I-” Willam gasped between thrusts. Courtney’s eyes blew wide open as she realized what he was offering and fervently nodded her head. Willam gave a small smile and struggled with his free hand to pull the panties aside. If Courtney had been in any clearer of a head space she would have helped but at the moment she too overwhelmed at the situation to be of much use other than to simply stand there. They held each other’s gaze as Willam carefully slid himself down on her length. Even with the force of the man slamming into him, Willam made sure not to hurt Courtney. Earlier his focus had been solely on how good he could look while sucking off his partner, but with her he only cared about what gave her the most pleasure. Whatever she reacted to, he made sure to repeat it tenfold and within moments she was left an absolute mess in his hands. The mere fact that he was so concerned with making sure she enjoyed herself as well tonight left Courtney feeling weak at the knees. Throwing aside any remaining notion that this night could remain emotion-free; Courtney lightly traced her fingers along Willam’s cheek and finally allowed herself to get lost in his sinful blue eyes. She wanted to take in every detail of this moment because she knew it would not happen again. As Courtney grew closer, she whispered out a shaky warning to Willam. He slowly pulled off and gave her a few more pumps before lost it and released onto his chest. It was just as well that she had finished so quickly, neither of the other men would last much longer. As Willam came, he moaned out Courtney’s name and drew her back in for another sloppy kiss while he rode out his orgasm. Marco finished shortly after and carefully withdrew from Willam. The instant Willam felt the other man slide off the bed, he pushed himself into a kneeling position to kiss Courtney more easily. He cupped her face in his hands as though she were the most sacred object in the world and pulled her close enough to be left tilting precariously over the edge of the bed. Courtney placed a firm hand on his shoulder and used the other to balance herself as she guided them down onto the mattress. They stayed locked in that position for several moments before Willam reluctantly excused himself to clean up. As he disappeared into the bathroom, a flood of emotions washed over Courtney. Her head started throbbing as she instantly started analyzing everything that had happened since the door had closed less than hour earlier. Feeling numb, she repositioned herself at the edge of the mattress and buried her face in her hands.   Slowly she was getting lost in her own thoughts but an unexpected presence directly in front of her brought her attention back to reality. Confused, she looked up to find Marco hovering far too close for comfort. She would have thought he’d have left by now but it seems he had been watching their exchange and waited patiently for an opening. Now that Willam was out of sight, he turned his full attention to Courtney and immediately she felt small and weak under his gaze. With little regard for her personal space, he ran his fingers down her cheek and asked if she wanted her turn with him as well. She tried her best to suppress a shudder but the glint in his eyes was unsettling. Politely, she declined and prayed he would take a few steps back. Disregarding the refusal, he continued to try and persuade her with his superficial charm, “You sure? Your friend had a good time…” “N-No, really,” she stuttered while trying to lean away from him, “I was just watching tonight, that’s it.” “I bet I could change your mind if you give me a shot…I know you would make it worth my while.” It was at this point Willam decided he had overheard more than enough and swiftly reemerged from the bathroom to survey the scene. His eyes narrowed as he took in Courtney’s undeniable discomfort and shot a pointed glare in Marco’s direction. Staring down the other man, Willam slipped onto the bed behind Courtney and wrapped his arms around her shoulders. He pressed a reassuring kiss to her cheek and whispered a confident, “I’ll handle this,” into her ear. With a sarcastic smile, he nuzzled against Courtney and bluntly addressed the unwanted man in front of them, “I think we’re done here, right Court?” Before either of the other two could respond, Willam pulled off his wig and and smiled sweetly at the startled man. Courtney almost wanted to laugh at the comical expression that played over his face but she was too overcome by relief that he now wasted no time in leaving. Willam arched a mocking eyebrow at the lightning speed in which Marco redressed himself and innocently asked, “Don’t you want to wash up first?” Blatantly ignoring the two queens, Marco grabbed his remaining belongings and stumbled out into the hallway. Willam rushed off the bed to lock the door after him but hesitated before slowly turning to face Courtney again. Guilt was written all over his face as sat beside Courtney and dropped his shoulders in defeat. Courtney could see the sincerity in his eyes as he softly apologized, “Court…I’m really sorry…I didn’t think he’d be-” “Willam…” Courtney interrupted, “It’s okay, I know you meant well when you asked.” Willam nervously shifted his eyes down to his lap and picked at the glue still stuck to his nails. “Really though…I wanted you to have a good time…I know there’s been something different with you.” He paused to take a deep breath and shakily reached over to place his hand over hers. He drew his gaze back to Courtney’s and firmly told her, “If you want to talk…I’m here. I won’t judge.” Courtney gave a rueful smile and replied, “I know you wouldn’t, Bill.” She leant against him taking in everything from his smell, the light dampness of his skin, the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed…even how she swore she could almost hear his heart beating faster as she buried her face in his neck. He ran his thumb over her hand and waited patiently for a signal on what more he could do. All she wanted at the moment was just to sit with him in silence while she worked up the courage to speak again. Her lip quivered as she swallowed her pride and whispered against his skin, “I really like you.” Her head began to cloud as she felt a twitch in his hand and heard the halting confusion in his voice when he responded back, “I like you too, Court.” A broken laugh escaped her as she pulled away to face him. He really doesn’t get it. Tears were beginning to sting her eyes but she wiped them away and plastered on a remorseful smile. “No, I mean I-” She cut herself off as they locked eyes and suddenly found that any remnant of confidence she once held had now escaped with a single look from him. His eyes showed genuine concern for her but also revealed how he was struggling to grasp what she was trying to confess. She felt so vulnerable and helpless around him and she hated that. Words had always come so easily to her before but he managed to take all of that away without realizing it. Her heart was pounding in her chest as she cupped his face with her free hand desperately prayed to any deity listening that he would finally understand. A voice she hardly recognized as her own cracked as she whispered, “Bill…I like you.” His eyes darted across her face and she saw the gears in his head had finally started turning. A wave of realization noticeably passed over his face and she never felt more relieved or scared as when she saw him coming to terms with what she had just told him. A deep blush rose to his cheeks as he stared at her dumbstruck. The longer he remained silent, the more she felt her resolve shrink away until there was nothing left. It was obvious he didn’t feel the same and was trying to think of a way to let her down easy. She felt so stupid for trying; she should have just kept it to herself like she had before. She bolted off the bed as tears welled up in her eyes and threatened to spill over any second. She knew she wouldn’t be able to handle his sympathy if he saw. “Shane!” She stopped dead in her tracks as she felt her hand being engulfed by his. It felt like her heart stopped beating as she was spun around and pulled into Willam’s arms. He held her tightly as though she were the last lifeline he had before falling into the abyss. The tears finally escaped as he asked her, “You mean it?” Courtney stared at him incredulously before laughing out, “Yes!” She swore she had never seen a smile brighter than the one he gave her as he warned, “I’m really not the smartest choice, you know.” “That’s okay,” she replied as he delicately wiped her cheeks free of tears, “Neither am I.”

[yoiotdfics]

Fic Recs for January 2017

Call First by  bmmboo

Summary:

Key or no key, calling ahead before you visit someone’s house is a courtesy that shouldn’t be forgotten. - “To be fair it IS their house.” “Beka.” “…and they’re married, so I mean…It probably isn’t just the couch, you know?” “SHUT THE FUCK UP.”

Along With the Stars by  inwhatfurnace

Summary:

“You picked the duet,” there’s a reassuring squeeze of his hand. “Why?” “I want –” he stops, voice shaking, and tries again. “I want you to skate it with me?”

The Poodle and the Noot by  the_ol_razzle_dazazzle

Summary:

There was no summary, this is pure utter crack fic.  It is a Pingu/Makkachin fic.

in a palace of cracked marble by  clxude

Summary:

Jean-Jacques Leroy is strong. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t break occasionally.

Darling by  ClockworkDinosaur

Summary:

Victor and Yuuri are not fluent in the others native language.

Easy as Raz Dva Tri by  azriona

Summary:

Yuuri wants to surprise Victor. Victor wants to surprise Yuuri.

Well… at least they’re surprised, right?

Beside the Dancing Sea by  lily_winterwood, MapleTreeway

Summary:

He’s finally here in this lovely and quiet little beach cottage, and the rest of the year seems to stretch out infinitely before him. Time will pass, though, and it will pass faster than he realises, but in the meantime he will stop worrying about writer’s block and deadlines and not even having the foggiest clue what his next novel’s going to be about, and live.

New York Times-bestselling author Viktor Nikiforov arrives in the sleepy seaside town of Torvill Cove to cure his writer’s block. After encountering local wallflower Yuuri Katsuki at a party, he discovers that this mysterious dark-haired man has a couple secrets up his sleeve.

And Viktor will be damned if he doesn’t find out just what those secrets are.

Thank Goodness for the Internet by  MadameFolie

Summary:

Yuuri Katsuki has nearly inhuman stamina. So sometimes Victor needs to get a little creative to even the playing field.

That Would Be Enough by  anteachrist

Summary:

“Hey, it’s gonna be okay buddy. You’re gonna be okay. You did such a good job okay? You lived a good life, a great one in fact! You’ve been the best best friend I could ever ask for. You and Yuuri, you’re my family okay? You’re all I’ve got and I love you so much bud.”

Or: Makkachin dies and Yuuri helps Viktor cope

Good Boy by  ayyyywhatsup

Summary:

Viktor has a not so small praise kink. Yuuri’s a bit clueless at first, but once he finds out, he takes advantage of it like there’s no tomorrow.

Or the praise kink fic that quickly spiralled down into overstim territory

Minor Incidentals by  aurons_fan

Summary:

When the topic of money comes up in a relationship, it’s best to know where you stand before mentioning a little thing like coaching fees.

proper poise by  demistories

Summary:

“Popular!”

Yuuri groans as the familiar ringtone wakes him from a dream that was probably really nice, but is already slipping away. Goddammit, Phichit. Today is supposed to be a rest day, which is supposed to mean sleeping in.

Yuuri Says  by  breathedeep222

Summary:

This stemmed from thinking about Yuuri being naturally dominant and ordering Victor (who totally loves it) around but being completely oblivious in the process.

I know it’s tagged Dom/Sub but there is like barely anything kinky in this fic lol. It focuses less on any actual kink and more on Yuuri being fucking clueless to how much of a sub Victor is.

Sharing an Umbrella by  Ellie_Rosie

Summary:

Three times Viktor and Yuuri share an umbrella.

At the Rink by  Velvedere

There are showers in the locker room at the local skating rink…

singularity by  springsoldier (ladydaredevil)

Victor Nikiforov, Jedi Knight, does not struggle with attachments. It’s only that Duke Katsuki of Hasetsu is unfairly attractive.

Love in Exile by  MartyMuses

Once a well know ballet dancer in St. Petersburg, Victor Nikiforov finds himself exiled to Sakhalin Island as a political convict in 1881. As a man sentenced to katorga he will never return to European Russia or his life on the stage. Known as the “Edge of the World,” his life on Sakhalin could not be further from the life he once knew. Strange circumstances lead his path to cross that of a young Japanese man, one of the very few still living on the island. Katsuki Yuuri leads a life of exile of a different kind, one that is largely self-imposed. Drawn to each other, despite their differences, something slowly begins to grow between them. When a narrowly avoided tragedy leaves them stranded together for a long, cold Sakhalin winter, they are challenged to face what their relationship really means, and what future it could possibly have.

put my heart on my chest (so that you can see it too) by alien_panda

Summary:

Yuuri never ceases to surprise him, especially at the exhibition gala.

reel against your body’s borders by  phichit-chu (howtobottlefame)

Summary:

The leaves change color and fall when he meets him, like a force of nature unlike anything he has ever seen.

I’m Phichit. Nice to meet you, Yuuri! and his smile is so bright, so warm it makes Yuuri forget he was on the ice.

The Kids Aren’t Alright by  bdol

Summary:

Coming in sixth place isn’t easy, even for someone as optimistic as Phichit. Snuggling with his best friend helps.

feat. That thing they swore never to talk about

The Carrot Of My Dreams. by  Albrecht

Summary:

Yuuri turns into a carrot.

Ignorance & Bliss by  scribblywobblytimeylimey

Summary:

Yuuri is toying with Viktor’s feelings. Trouble is, he doesn’t even realise it. Soon, outsiders start stepping in to help.

As though he’d realise what they were trying, either.

You can have everything… by  shysweetthing

Summary:

AU. Before the Grand Prix Final starts in Sochi, Yuuri finds Victor’s phone. He returns it–and hijinks and heavy flirtation ensue.

For a Good Time by  Val_Creative

Summary:

Everyone’s (gladly) had a piece of that.

(Victor x Pretty much everyone at one point or another.. check the tags before you read.)

Stir My Batter by  Resmiranda

Summary:

Victor hums soft and low. “Butter?” he questions, like Yuuri had just told him he needed to get the lube.

This is doing nothing for his concentration.

Today and Every Day by  Resmiranda

Summary:

Hungry and unable to sleep, Yuuri just wanted some cake. Victor helps. Kinda.

Yuuri!!! on Floor by  thehandsingsweapon

Summary:

The gymnastics edition, in which Viktor is still a skater because he’s too pretty on ice and I couldn’t take it away from him. A story about how sometimes love comes slow and soft, and how hearts get bigger when they break.

Phases by  neuroglam

Summary:

Victor teases Yuuri with a costume from his junior days–one which Yuuri remembers very, very well.

Rinse and repeat by  espritneo

Summary:

Victor and Yuuri are stuck repeating the same day over and over again. But we’re going to talk about Yuri.

(8 days Yuri Plisetsky never remembers and one that he does.)

Oh, But This Was Dancing, Too by  Nemamka

Summary:

Yuuri got reaally excited about landing a quad, and the rest is history.

I can’t even write proper smut because I get too poetic but um.

All that there’s in a name by  GwenChan

Summary:

“Above all Yuri discovers how important names are for Victor. Maybe it’s something cultural; maybe it’s just him. Victor catalogues moods and situations on a strict name-basis.”

A story about how names can affect a relationship.

Death and Love by  DefiantDreams

WARNING: MAJOR CHARACTER DEATHS (a lot over the course of Yuuri’s life..)

Summary:

For a moment, Death doesn’t want to take the life of the beautiful, bed-ridden man with the striking blue eyes.

But he must.

Or

X times Death takes from Katsuki Yuuri and the one time that he gives.

A Love Most Unique by  heartsdesire456

Summary:

There were a lot of things about Yuuri’s relationship with Victor that was unique. It was especially unique to be someone who had never found any appeal in the thought of sex and found such ready acceptance from a partner who very much enjoyed sex.

(A look into the unique relationship between asexual Dom Yuuri and sub Victor)

Such a lot of world to see by El Staplador (elstaplador)

Minako is showing off Barcelona. And showing off, a bit. Mari is just trying to keep up.

Just A Cold by DalishCheese

Yuuri’s in bed with a cold, and Viktor insists on taking care of him.

Instructions Unclear by  thoughtsappear

Summary:

Next time, go to Ikea.

[kagetsukai]

Six Dates And How To Fail At Them [Cullen-centric]

Pairing: Cullen Rutherford/(??)

Metaverse: Dance Like No One Is Watching (modern AU/dance!fic)

Synopsis: Cullen Rutherford is not completely incapable of finding himself a date, but he just doesn't have time to look. When his friends catch the wind of it, they volunteer to help him improve his love life. To various degrees of success, of course.

Read on AO3

Over the years Cullen had tried – really, he did - to find a woman who would put up with his particular set of peculiarities. That being said, he wasn't exactly keen on approaching random women, perusing online sites, or putting himself at a bar on a Friday night. All of that sounded worse than spending a whole day calibrating a finicky trebuchet. So when some of his friends decided to help him find female companionship, he was almost relieved.

He should have known better than to trust Varric with these choices, but he learned that lesson a tad too late. As he sat at a booth of some disreputable dive, the dwarf in question sitting across from him, in came a woman that he could only have been described as 'The Sex'. Her luscious brown body completely filled out her skimpy white dress and the overflow boldly spilled in all the right places. She immediately spotted him and he felt like prey pinned down by a hungry vulture.

“Hey there, gorgeous,” she purred at him as she sat down and slid uncomfortably close. “Varric never mention he had such sexy friends.”

Panic set in Cullen's chest as he desperately tried to signal to Varric not to leave him alone with this temptress, but the dwarf handily ignored him, going as far as throwing a parting wink.

Perhaps the whole date would not have been such a sound disaster if it wasn't for the fact that Isabela – that was her name – had insisted on getting super close and personal, which put him on the edge the entire evening. Cullen would keep trying to start a conversation, anything between a local sports team to something about politics, but she would dismiss him with half syllable responses and low, throaty giggles. It all ended abruptly the moment he felt a not-so-subtle touch on his right thigh. At first he thought it was an accident, but when a warm, solid hand aggressively fell between his thighs and squeezed, a startled yelp escaped his throat.

“Ooo... you're a big boy,” she whispered while he fought to remove her hand as quickly as possible. “Wanna take this somewhere more... private?”

“I don't think so,” he growled in reply and moved himself as far away as he could. Which wasn't far enough. “Let go of me.”

In the following commotion Cullen somehow managed to remove himself from Isabela's tight grip, settle the bill, and make a hasty retreat out the diner. Later, he would hope he didn't come off as too rude, but at that moment he wanted to run off to the other side of creation.

The voice message he left Varric that night borderlined on belligerent and uncouth, but he was too enraged to care. Sensing that, the dwarf didn't dare speak to him for two weeks straight.

===============================

When Varric approached him next about a potential date, Cullen refused immediately. Just the mention of the name Isabela – and he did come across her more often that he liked – brought on burning shame and terrible discomfort. Still, the stubborn dwarf shrugged and pulled up a picture on his phone.

“I think she's more your speed, Curly,” he said and casually pointed it towards Cullen. “She's super sweet, really easy-going, and I guarantee she won't try anything untoward.”

The face that looked back at him was beyond beautiful, Cullen noted. This woman had lovely dark hair - almost black - ivory skin, and piercing brown eyes; she was looking at something off camera and laughing without restraint. He swallowed around a lump in his throat as his heart did a weird little stumble.

“What's the catch, Varric?” he asked. There was always a catch.

Varric gave him a level stare.

“The catch is that if you break her heart, I will break you harder.”

Cullen frowned around a pause.

“I don't understand. If she's so precious to you, why try setting her up with me? I'm not exactly desirable.”

Varric gave him a look that was both bewildered and incredulous.

“Really, Curly?” he asked and without missing a beat, he continued. “Her family is a little too crazy, if you ask me, and I'd love to see her with someone who could take care of her when the eventual shit hits the fan. She seems to like a man in armor and you're not exactly difficult on the eyes. You have the chance to not fuck it up.”

The finality of the statement bode no further discussion and Cullen didn't press it. Instead, he agreed to exchange numbers with this woman and see where things went.

All in all, their first date went great. Beth was a sweet and gentle soul who volunteered at the local clinic for the needy while she studied to become a licensed physician. They seemed to have a whole lot in common and he was pleasantly surprised she was a devoted Andrastian. Their conversation had a wonderful ebb and flow to it, and Cullen was slowly understanding why Varric took a shining to this delightful woman. When he finally walked her home at a horribly late hour, he wondered if the little smiles she kept shooting him were an indicator he would be able to kiss her goodnight. Alas, it was not meant to be.

“Bethany Hawke! Where in the Void have you been?”

The rough and gruff voice that assaulted his ears sounded entirely too familiar and Cullen closed his eyes in resignation. Of course it was too good to be true. There was always a catch.

“I'm an adult, sister. You don't get to give me a curfew.”

“And who are you with? Wait...” the woman paused in her tirade. “Is that Cullen? Ser Cullen? As in, you are dating a Templar now?”

“Yes, we went on a date! What of it?”

Hoo boy, this was getting more than Cullen had bargained for. In his line of work he had constant run-ins with a ragtag group of misfits that he always found involved in something and Marian Hawke seemed to be their leader. She had a reputation of a stubborn and willful woman who defied authority at every corner, though it seemed her younger sister had some of that fire as well. The two women were having a row in front of their house and Cullen fervently begged the Maker to send a raging dragon as a distraction. It didn't come.

“How about I just leave you to it,” he cut in once he realized there would be no other way to interrupt them. “It seems like my presence here is unwelcome. Have a good night, ladies.”

He bowed and left the two Hawkes behind. When he got home, he did not call Varric to yell at him, but instead poured himself a glass of whiskey and sat there, mourning all that could have been and never would be. As he steadily drank the liquor, he vowed to never agree to any more dates with Varric's acquaintances.

===============================

Cullen was having a severe case of deja vu while sitting at a tall table inside of some swanky lunch place. It had an Orlesian name plastered all over the walls and menu, and he felt significantly under-dressed.

“This is a bad idea,” he mumbled to Cassandra under his breath. “I've told you--”

“Nonsense! You're overreacting,” she scoffed at him. “ I did not propose you marry the woman. This is just lunch between adults.”

Cullen tried hard not to roll his eyes. “I know nothing about this woman,” he hissed.

“Which is why I'm introducing you here, on neutral ground,” she pointed out and suddenly spotted someone at the door. “Ah. She is here.”

The next several minutes Cullen spent on introductions, subversive – and clearly mutual – checking each other out, and ordering of their respective lunches. He noticed that Threnn ordered something heavy on the meat and light on the 'frill'. He hummed with approval.

“I don't know why Cassandra chose this place,” she whispered to him conspiratorially. “I'm pretty sure we're both so Fereldan we might already have matching Mabari tattoos.”

Cullen coughed into his hand in an effort to mask his laugh and looked down at the woman as if seeing her properly for the first time. Her mouth was quirked in a cocky grin and he found himself returning it.

“I'm still working on getting mine, I'm afraid,” he quipped back.

His optimistic mood did not last long. Once Cassandra excused herself to make a 'very urgent, work-related phone call', Cullen got to converse with the woman in earnest. While Threnn seemed perfectly nice, albeit direct, she soon started sharing opinions he didn't even ask about.

“I really don't understand why Loghain had to be executed. He was single most decorated general in Ferelden's history. He would have been a perfect asset to this administration.”

Cullen frowned, trying to will his impending headache away.

“He was a traitor to his country, in case you forgot.”

“He made one strategic mistake. One!” she exclaimed louder than he was comfortable with in a public place. “That's not enough to kill the man.”

“There were charges of aiding and abetting Tevinter slavers as well as involvement in orchestrating an elven genocide,” Cullen ground out in the most level tone he could manage.

“That was fake news and you know it,” she decided with a glare. “And even if he did do it, so what? There's been too much riffraff in our country for too long. If we could ship them all away, we could make Ferelden great again.”

At that point Cullen chose to focus completely on his food, in case the words that wanted to come out didn't stay behind his teeth. He waited patiently for Cassandra to return, making only non-committal grunts when prompted.

Later, once alone with Cassandra at her desk, he repeated the whole interaction and made her promise to never set him up with anyone else again.

===============================

In a true fashion of perpetually inept and unlucky he found himself drunk and alone one Friday night, desperately craving companionship. Samson, his roommate who somehow had no issues finding women to be with, had suggested trying out the newest dating app that seemed to be all the rage. Fueled by liquid courage Cullen signed up and started browsing what looked like an endless stream of female faces, one lovelier than the next. When he set up a date for the next evening, he fell into bed feeling like the luckiest man alive.

The next morning brought a horrifying case of a hangover and several text messages from a girl that was saved in his phone as DalishFlower. Memories came back slowly, and with a fuzzy sheen that didn't match his mood, so he went through each and every name he contacted to make sure he didn't make more mistakes. With the app scrubbed from his device, he stared at the influx of cutesy messages that kept coming from a clearly elven girl whose name he could not remember. She seemed like a sweet girl, albeit eager, and Cullen felt guilty for accidentally leading her on. His mind made up, he set out for their meeting spot.

The Dalish restaurant – Halla Good – was quite to his liking, even if the meats were a bit gamier than what he was used to. There were a lot of vegetables as sides, both pickled and fresh, and everything seemed to be roasted on an open fire. If only his dinner companion was equally as agreeable. The elven girl that bounded through the door was incredible: she was an exotic beauty painted in dark hair and green eyes, she had a fantastically quick mind, and she seemed like the sweetest person on the planet. That being said, Cullen knew within the first five minutes he would not ask her for a second date.

“My Keeper is convinced I've made a mistake in devoting my life to preserving the eluvian – that's that old mirror I already told you about. It's a piece of Dalish history and she would have me keep it away as if something was wrong with it. She keeps telling me it's blighted, as if it was a living thing! Preposterous. She knows nothing on the topic. Besides, it's not like I'm going to make human blood sacrifice to fix it,” she rattled off in one breath and stopped. She looked at his face and frowned. “Do you get pedicures? I hear humans really like to have soft feet. Is that something you do?”

“I--”

“Oh, I'm sorry, am I being weird again? I'm being weird again, aren't I. Here, let me pour you some tea!”

The entire evening consisted of in-depth dissertations of Dalish culture, intersected by random comments about humans that Cullen had no rebuttal to or was genuinely surprised to be asked about. While at first he tried to insert even a full sentence of a reply to anything, he soon gave up and instead applied himself to devouring all sorts of grilled meat, steamed vegetables, and fresh cheese. Besides, the girl didn't need a conversation partner for most of the things she was talking about, anyway.

When the evening came to an end, Cullen stood with her just outside of the establishment's doors, trying really hard not to come off as a raging asshole.

“So, Merrill...”

She looked up to him with an intensely verdant stare. “Yes, Cullen?”

“I had a good time today--”

“Is this where you ask me to your place and we have sex?” she blurted out.

Cullen felt his face flame with a shade of red he hadn't experienced in a long while.

“What? No!” he exclaimed a little louder than he wanted. “That's not what I was going--”

“Oh.” She sounded confused. “But my friend Isabela told me that humans went on dates then they had sex. Is that not how it works?”

Why was Isabela still haunting his life? A variety of conflicting emotions danced through Cullen's mind at this revelation and he cleared his throat.

“That does happen with some people who are a little more... ummm... flexible with their... ummm... preferences.” Sweet Andraste, he was going to combust from embarrassment in front of this girl. “There's nothing wrong with that, of course! I just... I don't do that.”

“Oh.” Merrill still sounded a little confused, but no longer eager. “So, no sex?”

Cullen reached for his neck and prodded the painful knot that already started to form there.

“No, I don't think that's a good idea,” he said in the softest voice he could come up with. “Also, while I enjoyed our time together tonight, I don't think we are compatible enough for... ummm... future dates.”

For the first time that night Merrill stayed quiet and just stared at his face with an unreadable expression, as if searching for some secret meaning hidden there. She may have found something, because she nodded to herself, as if in confirmation.

“Of course. I understand. Have a good night, Cullen,” she said.

She abruptly turned on her heel and walked away into the night without any other explanation or without giving Cullen a chance to say goodbye.

Not even a week later he found his Templar protective gear covered in itching powder along with a note 'That's for making Kitten sad'. It was soon followed by a visit from Varric with not-so-subtle questions about whether or not he was prejudiced against elven women.

That's when Cullen vowed he would sooner die a celibate bachelor than agree to another blind date.

===============================

It took several years, and a fair share of trauma, but the sting of failed dates wore off, dulled, and joined all other things he would rather not think about. With the rise of the Inquisition he had a new set of responsibilities to worry about and his personal life took a distant back seat. Which most likely was the reason why his newest, and largest, work companion showed up in his office one evening with a suggestion of a date.

“She's fire, I can tell. All redheads are,” the Qunari extolled her virtues. “I did offer to let her ride the Bull, but she declined. I'm not one to force a woman, but maybe she wants a man who is more her size?”

Cullen pointedly ignored the backhanded comment about his manhood and side-glanced at his companion.

“I don't have a good track record with women, Bull” he felt he should mention. “I seem to attract a very particular kind of crazy.”

The Qunari shrugged.

“Crazy can be good. Crazy chicks tend to know some fun things in the sack,” he chuckled. “Not that I know much about Lace's proclivities.”

Shocked, Cullen raised his eyebrows.

“Lace? As in Lace Harding, Leliana's chief reconnaissance lieutenant? You're trying to set me up with a woman who can probably stab me if I look at her wrong?”

Bull chuckled somewhat lecherously.

“I have a feeling you could handle a woman like that,” he said and winked. “Plus, she doesn't strike me as bloodthirsty as her boss. When out in the field, she's cool as you please and nothing really fazes her. I think you two can absolutely hit it off.”

That was how Cullen ended up connecting with a dwarven woman with an impossible schedule that rivaled his own. They did eventually exchange phone numbers due to Bull's subtle meddling and messaged each other on a regular basis; they got to know each other through a series of topics, like favorite movies, current hobbies, or the first live concert they went to. Cullen found it extremely easy to chat with Lace and became increasingly more hopeful for the success of their first date. If it ever happened.

It was she who managed to come up with a solution.

 Lace: How would you feel about doing something informal and active? :)

 Cullen: What did you have in mind?

 Lace: I'll be in town this weekend. Would you like to join me Saturday morning for rock climbing?

He stared at the words and a sudden feeling in the pit of his stomach tickled at his nerves. This could be it.

 Cullen: I could make it.

 Cullen: I've never done it, though.

 Lace: No worries! I've got you covered. Just make sure you wear workout clothes you don't mind ripping or getting covered in talc.

 Lace: Would 7am be okay or is that too early? :P

Cullen actually laughed out loud, startling his assistant that sat in the office with him. He felt a blush prickle at his ears and cheeks, and he coughed to cover his embarrassment.

 Cullen: Please. I'm a career military man. It will feel like I slept in.

 Lace: Great. It's a date then?

 Cullen: It's a date.

He once again stared at the words and felt an increasing sense of panic as it trickled down his spine. Perhaps this could go well - they had been casually texting for several weeks now - but a nagging feeling that something would go wrong refused to leave. He took a few deep breaths and willed himself to relax; this was just a date.

Saturday morning Cullen woke up almost an hour before his already early alarm and spent most of the extra time fussing with his hair, his clothes, his phone, then his hair again. He almost texted Lace twice to cancel, only to berate himself for being foolish and a frightened child. It would be fine, he kept telling himself. He almost believed it, too. When he got into his car, it was with plenty of time to spare and he arrived at the spot almost half an hour early.

When Lace pulled in fifteen minutes later, she jumped out of her Mini Cooper with energy of a woman used to early mornings. She wore clothes that looked comfortable and practical, and Cullen allowed himself to briefly look her over, appreciating her sculpted shoulders and clearly muscular thighs. This was a woman with functional strength and a confidence in her body.

She stepped closer and a lovely smile split her face.

“Commander.”

She stopped, immediately screwed her eyes shut and reopened them, clearly apologetic.

“I'm sorry. Cullen. It's still a little difficult to separate you from the name on my paperwork.”

He chuckled.

“That's alright. As long as you don't start saluting me, we should be fine.”

It was her turn to laugh.

“I'll keep that in mind.” She pointed to the duffel bag in her hand. “I've got my stuff. Shall we go in?”

“Let's do that.”

Cullen had always thought himself to be a fit individual, especially since he had spent most of his professional time training recruits and getting them ready for the field, but the two hours he spent rock climbing with Lace taught him otherwise. Even with her direction and support he kept putting extra strain on muscles he didn't know he possessed and it didn't take long before he was covered in sweat, dirt and talc. That being said, when they decided to call it a day, he could not remember the last time he felt this free or this happy.

“So, what did you think?” she asked him as they slowly walked towards their parking spots.

“That was fantastic, but I will definitely feel it in the morning.”

She nodded. “The first time is rough on just about everybody. If you decide to keep up with it, you'll build up callouses and your body will get used to the strain.”

He was going to say something in return but then they stopped at her car and she turned to him, pinning him in place with a stare. Suddenly Cullen remember this was a date and his gut did a weird flip. Was he supposed to kiss her? They were both covered in filth, and they haven't really flirted while climbing, and he wasn't even sure if she liked him that way, and--

“Cullen, I'll spare you the guesswork,” Lace tripped his trail of thought and she tilted her head with a smile. “I think you're a great guy, I really do, and I did enjoy spending time with you, but... I think we should remain friends.”

Relief that flooded his senses was tangible. He chuckled nervously and reached to massage a knot in his neck that wasn't even there yet.

“Oh thank the Maker,” he exhaled. “I had no idea how to say it so I'm glad you're better at articulating your thoughts than I am.”

Her already sweet smile widened and she raised an eyebrow.

“Commander of the Inquisition who doesn't know how to speak his mind? I find that hard to believe.”

Cullen shrugged.

“It's one thing to yell at soldiers all day long. It's something else entirely when I'm faced with a pretty girl whom I'd like to stay friends with.”

She chuckled.

“Well, since you're being so sweet, I'll let you off the hook,” she announced and reached out her hand. “Friends?”

He took it and shook it once.

“Friends.”

They parted with friendly waves and promises to keep in touch, Cullen then returned home and decided he was just hungry enough for a late breakfast. While he prepped his meal, he grinned happily at having made a friend. He wondered briefly if Lace would let him tag along the next time she went rock climbing and he reached for his phone. Her reply was quick and to the point.

 Absolutely.

===============================

“Maybe you should try something different?” were Bull's exact words and the phrase had put Cullen's teeth on edge at once.

When the Qunari found out about the platonic nature of his ongoing relationship with Lace Harding, he got a strange look in his eye that did not bode well. The results were more ridiculous than he could have expected.

“Iron Bull!” he roared as he stormed into the Chargers’ quarters. “I need a word with you. Privately.

He stomped into the closest empty office, which happened to be Cassandra’s, and slammed the doors closed once the other man walked through.

“Did you think it was a good joke?” he hissed at Bull. “What the world possessed you to… to…”

“What?” the Qunari asked with a shrug. “Did you not have a good time at your date?”

Cullen wiped his face with both hands and groaned.

“For the first and last time, Bull: I am straight,” he said through his clenched teeth. “And please, no more set ups. I am done.”

Bull frowned. “Why?”

“Because you set me up with Fenris, you ass!” Cullen exclaimed and immediately clamped his mouth shut, afraid he could be heard outside the office.

For a brief second the two men just stared at each other, but then the moment broke as Bull guffawed in a booming voice and reached to clap Cullen’s shoulder.

“And that upset you?” he roared with laughter. “C’mon. It couldn’t have been that bad?”

Cullen screwed his eyes shut for a moment, recalling the awkward date from the night before, and ground his teeth again.

“It was worse! He clearly knew what he was getting into, I did not. Once that awkward conversation happened, he proceeded to order a lot of wine and getting shit-faced drunk. I had to help him get home and he threw up on my shoes.”

The Qunari was in a fit of such intense giggles that there were tears streaming down his face and he had issues drawing a breath. He kept trying to get a word out, but nothing would come. At that point, Cullen chose to cut his losses and stormed out of the the office in a huff, hoping that whatever else the Iron Bull had in mind, he could just… ignore it.