#starting off strong with my grandparents coming over to drop my card off

[sammyloomis]

nothin like having to spend my bday tomorrow doing a bunch of shit i dont rly wanna do :V

[ghostiesblog]

aaah congrats kari!!!! 🥰

could i request some nice simple juke cuddles? heh

Imène! Tysm!!!

Of course 🥰 Can you believe this is my first real juke piece?? smh...I don't know if this can be called simple but here you have it, 1k of pure fluff or really just me exposing the fact that I'm touchstarved and haven't had a good night's sleep in weeks:

You've got my heart, I've got your hand

Pairing: Juke | Warnings: none

Julie feels like she might cry. She’s exhausted.

The thing is, nothing even happened, really. Just one of those days, where the world is full of painful reminders and memories and reality is just a bit too hard to deal with.

As if being a teenager wasn’t already difficult enough.

School was hard and now, all she wants to do is curl up on the couch with someone, maybe have a movie playing in the background while she falls asleep.

Flynn isn’t available though, however much Julie likes hanging out at her best friend’s house when she feels like this. Today of all days she’s driving out to visit her grandparents, so all the support she can give comes in form of a phone call and a thousand hear emojis sent via text.

At home she neither Carlos nor her dad are around and suddenly the house feels more empty and hollow than ever, keeping her eyes open and a painfully tight feeling in her chest whenever she tries to lay down to rest her eyes.

Of course, there are still the three annoying boys that haunt her, and not even a bad day stops them, apparently, since Luke has rudely used his puppy dog eyes to convince her to have a writing session. And that’s how she finds herself here, in the studio, staring at her hands lying on the keys in front of her, so tired that she feels tears coming to her eyes.

Damn Luke and his stupid endearing enthusiasm and cute smile. Some days that smile is enough to begrudgingly cheer her up. But not now, not today.

Julie is vaguely aware of the fact that she hasn’t said a word in minutes and that the notes in the melodies she tries out drag along lazily and out of rhythm.

“Julie?” Luke asks, setting his acoustic aside, “are you okay?”

He sounds achingly concerned and it makes Julie look up from the piano, blinking out of her drifting haze.

“Yeah, I’m fine”, she says and the lie sounds horrible, even for her, arguably the world’s worst liar.

“Come on”, Luke says and comes to lean against the piano, “you know you can tell me anything, right?”

“Right...”, Julie says. She rubs a hand across her face and sighs. “It’s stupid. I’m just tired and sad today-“ Luke is shaking his head and reaches out a hand, placing it flat on the piano in front of Julie.

She just stares at it for a second before gathering herself again.

“I just- I just needed a hug today but Flynn is away and I couldn’t find dad or Carlos and if I call Tia Victoria she’ll freak out and you- oh, hang on…“

“Julie-“, Luke says, very gently but he also is very obviously trying not to burst out laughing. “Did you forget that you can actually touch us now?”

“Shut up”, Julie grumbles. “I’m tired”

Now Luke actually laughs, but it’s a kind sound, and he spreads his arms widely.

“Come here”

And Julie drags herself up from the piano bench and falls right into the hug. Luke catches her easily and Julie is surprised at how relieved she still is when she feels his arms around her, strong and solid, instead of falling right through. How much she still needs this confirmation that he is real, that he is actually here, that nothing, no tainted hotdogs, no ghost magic or evil dead wizards could keep them from being here, now, together.

Her arms wrap around his shoulders and she curls her fingers into his shirt. Her nose is buried in the crook of his neck and she can feel Luke resting his cheek on her hair.

Under her hands, his ribcage expands with a deep breath and instinctively, Julie breathes with him.

They stay like that for a while, just breathing and holding onto each other.

Then, Julie pulls back a bit, but Luke is still holding onto her elbows, still not quite letting her go.

“I’m sorry”, she says, her eyes focussed on the discarded guitar and notebook on the piano, “I’m useless today, I know this is important to you.”

“Julie”, Luke says intently, pulling her focus right back. “Yes, music is important to me. But you are more important. It’s okay.”

Julie blinks, surprised. For all that they’ve been through and all the songs they’ve poured their hearts into, moments like these, sincere verbal declarations without any jokes or friendly teasing are still few and far in between for them.

“Thank you” She drops her head back down against his shoulder.

“What do you need?” Luke asks, gently cupping the back of her neck. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Julie shakes her head. “Maybe later”, she mumbles. “I think I just need a nap now.”

“Okay”, Luke says and then he’s gently pushing her towards the couch. Julie untangles herself from him and is surprised when instead of leaving her be, Luke flops down on his back and spreads his arms again.

“What are you doing?”, she asks, with a chuckle.

“I’ve spent months not even able to hold your hand”, Luke says with an eyeroll. “Do you really think I’m going to be okay with hugs that last just a minute?”

Then he suddenly looks self conscious, pulling his arms back in. “Unless…you don’t want to, then-“

Julie laughs. “No”, she says, pushing at his shoulder. “You’re right.”

She lays down next to Luke and almost rolls off the side until Luke holds onto her shoulder and pulls her in again.

Julie settles her head on his chest and closes her eyes.

“This okay?”, Luke asks, softly and Julie tightens her hold.

“Yes”, she says, the tension slowly leaking from her body. “This is perfect.”

Luke sighs contently and lifts his hand to start gently carding through her hair. Finally settled, she lets sleep come over her.

Before she drifts off completely, she swears she can feel Luke pressing a kiss against her forehead.

[pinkbubbles-and-bigtroubles]

The Sweetest Taste

AU Ice Cream Shop Featuring Cake for the 5sos fic event sponsored by @maluminspace and @h0tsos

Word Count: 5,979 (I’m a long winded bitch, oops)

CW: this is smut so 18+, NSFW etc. M/M and M/F oral as well as sexual situations and strong language from the outset and throughout.

Special thanks to @adoring-lrh for helping me edit this monstrosity.

Event Masterlist

"I'm so bored," Calum complained, leaning back against the counter. 

"Me too, but I have to train you how to close so you're not leaving early," you told him but you were just as bored as him. 

Your parents had recently expanded the family business by opening up a second Cali-Cone Dream location in the touristy "historic district" downtown. Your dad's grandparents started the ice cream shop after moving to California from Missouri after World War 2.  They'd invested their life savings in the shop and helped build the boardwalk. You’d grown up in this shop, and since it was early in the season and still slow, it was up to you to train the new hires. It was a pain in the ass, but at least your parents weren't breathing down your neck. 

"If you keep complaining I'll make you clean the freezer. You'll have shrinkage for a week," you teased him. 

"Like you wouldn't find a way to fix that," he shot back, wiggling his dark eyebrows at you. 

Calum was the only new hire you liked. Jeremy was a kiss ass to your parents, Rico was boring, and Amanda was dumber than a bag of hammers. The smartest thing to come out of that girl's mouth was her boyfriend's dick. You'd already told your Mom it wasn't going to work out when you'd asked her to cut lemons for tea and she came back with oranges. Calum, however, was funny, a quick learner, and great with customers, not to mention drop-dead gorgeous.

"How is it only 3 o clock? Can we play cards or something? If I stand here much longer I'm gonna keep eating ice cream, and this is supposed to be my hot girl summer," he pouted before giving you a saucy wink. He was a total flirt and you weren't complaining. Three weeks ago he'd barely said a word, but you two had become fast friends and he'd really come out of his shell. 

"I don't think you have to worry about that," you laughed.

 The dark blue, slightly too tight, uniform t-shirt accentuated his bulging biceps, broad chest, and golden brown tan. The Cali-Cone slogan, "The Thrill of the Taste" scrawled across his back in bright red letters kept giving you dirty thoughts. 

"We could close early, maybe show me another of your secret spots." Calum leaned towards you with a smirk and you rolled your eyes.

 A week ago you'd gotten tired of him whining that there was nothing to do now that the college bars were dead since most students went home for the summer. You'd taken him out with you after you closed up shop. You'd avoided the popular rowdy country bar, and the dark thumping underground hip hop club, choosing instead to head for the beach. You took him to a spot under the boardwalk past the large boulders known as "The Breakers" where the local police patrols usually stopped.

You brought your beach bag and a popup tent you could both lounge in so bugs wouldn't eat you alive. He'd managed to sweet talk a bottle of wine out of his landlady, who knew he was only 20. It wasn't very strong, but it made you giggly and warm. Perhaps Calum lounging next to you on the blanket had something to do with that.  After a few rosé flavored kisses his hands began to wander, and you had to put an end to it.  Calum started to apologize, but you told him that the only reason you stopped was that your cycle hadn’t ended yet. 

After that, Calum laid back on the blanket and began to talk.

He told you he was in his second year studying music composition and theory at the Strozzi Conservatory. He'd recently broken up with his high school sweetheart, and it had been painful. As a result Cal decided to not go home for the summer, deciding instead to take a workshop on-campus teaching local teens. He was a bit lonely but looking forward to the tourist season.

"This is the first time I've had time to myself where I don't have to worry about what anyone else thinks about me or what I do," he told you, taking a gulp before handing you the wine to finish off. You were sitting up and he was laying across your outstretched legs looking up at you.

"Ooh the wild college years," you laughed. You had seen many sheltered middle-class suburban kids get the first taste of freedom away from their helicopter parents and lose their minds. "If you're trying to get fucked up don't buy anything on the boardwalk. I've got a friend so at least you know it's clean." 

"Nah not like that, but good to know." Calum took a deep breath, looked up at you, and then away. The shadows from the small camp lantern made him look mysterious and brooding. "Can I tell you something? I feel like I can trust you." His voice was soft and he rolled on his side concentrating on tracing lines along the skin on your legs. 

"You can tell me anything," you assured him.

"I want to--uh I guess experiment with different sorts of types of experiences with something new. I mean, obviously new. What I mean is, not what you'd expect maybe. Shit!" Calum rubbed his eyes and you held back a smile. "What I'm trying to say is that," he paused again.

"Calum, are you into guys?" You ask, not wanting to rush, but you were running out of time. You only had about half an hour before the tide would start coming in and you had to leave. 

"Is it obvious?" He asked, his eyes wide. 

"Nope, I wouldn't have guessed at all, but I've had this conversation with a friend before. I'm glad you trusted me enough to tell me, but we have to leave here in a bit." You checked your phone.

“So that’s it?” he asked. 

“Dude, it’s not that serious. Tell me who you’re scoping out and I’ll let you know what’s up. That doesn’t mean we can’t have fun as well,” you told him.

He looked so relieved, and you could only imagine what it took for him to tell you that.

Calum sat up and you started rolling up the blanket. You packed up your beach bag and Calum held the lantern as you twisted and folded the tent in three quick fluid motions before sliding it into its bag. 

"How did you do that so quickly in the dark?" Calum looked impressed.

"Practice, now come on, follow me, watch your step. It's slippery," you cautioned him.

It had gotten chilly and you were both shivering as you ran back to your car. 

"You won't tell anyone at work will you? I know it's not a big deal but I don't want everyone in my business." Calum bit his lip and you could tell he was questioning his decision.

"Dude you're fine, but what made you decide to tell me?" The question slipped out before you realized it.

He looked embarrassed and rubbed the back of his neck. "I was hoping maybe you could help me out. I don't know how to read people and I don't want to make an idiot out of myself." 

"Of course," you replied, reaching over to squeeze his hand. “Did you have anyone in mind?”

“Well there’s this lifeguard. He’s blonde and has a bird tattoo on his arm,” Calum told you. 

You cringed, knowing exactly who he was talking about. “Sorry sweetie,” you replied, “ that’s Cody and he’s not only straight, he’s a complete jackass.”

Calum slumped and looked defeated. “Don’t worry sweetie,” you reassured him. “The summer is just getting started”

A clap of thunder pulled you from your daydream.  If it was going to rain there was no chance business would pick up. You glanced over at Calum perched on the stool behind the cash register playing on his phone. His dark curls were falling across his forehead and your fingers itched to play with his hair. Being bored and horny was never fun and you were willing to bet Calum could take care of both. As if he could read your mind Cal looked up and caught your eye. The smirk that spread across his face let you know you were being too obvious, but you didn't care. 

"If you keep looking at me like that I might forget I'm on the clock,"  Calum licked his lips and looked you over. "You're lucky there are cameras."

"Oh yeah? What did you have in mind? It just so happens I know all the spots the cameras can't see," you raise your eyebrows at him, challenging him to take it further. 

The loud jingle of the bells hanging from the door startled both of you. You look up to see a familiar figure ducking through the door just before the sky opened up and began pouring rain. 

"What's up Luke? Since when are you afraid to get wet," you teased the tall blonde walking towards the counter. You'd known Luke Hemmings for years, his dad was on the city council with yours and his mom taught sixth grade. He'd been a year ahead of you in school, and you'd both played varsity basketball in high school. He'd dated several of your friends, and before that, your older sister had a tumultuous relationship with his brother Ben several years back. 

"Maybe I'm sick of the pool and want my old job back," Luke shot back. He'd worked three summers scooping ice cream next to you until he turned 18 and could work as a lifeguard on the beach. 

"Sorry, dollface, I've managed to replace you, I even found someone better looking," you replied. 

The Hemmings brothers were gorgeous and always had girls falling at their feet, but you'd never been that impressed. Not that it stopped y'all from hooking up on occasion, including once in the walk-in cooler after closing the summer before your senior year. It was a small town and you'd dated, hated, or hooked up with most of the guys your age.  Luke's history was more extensive than yours. He'd not only hooked up with you and many of your female friends, but you'd kissed many of the same boys. 

He looked from you to Calum who was standing to your right suddenly engrossed in the patterns on the tile floor. You could see the flush on his cheeks and his leg was jiggling nervously. Luke looked Calum up and down, his blue eyes lingering on the younger man before shooting you an approving grin. 

"I see you found a college boy. Can't say I blame you, much better looking than that ginger from last year," Luke snickered.

"I'm gonna go check the cooler," Calum told you, barely audibly before ducking in the back. 

You looked at Luke who was as confused as you were before excusing yourself to follow Calum. 

You barely made it around the corner before Calum popped out at you nearly scaring you to death. 

"What the hell," you squealed as he pulled you into the freezer.

"That's the guy I was telling you about," he hissed as the door shut behind you.

"What are you talking about?" 

"Remember when you drove me home the other night? You asked if I had anyone in mind so you could find out which team they played for," his voice was a panicked whisper, and his dark eyes were wide as saucers.

Then it clicked. "You were talking about Luke?" I asked, my voice louder than I meant for it to be.

"Why are you yelling? Yes, obviously that's him, except you told me his name was Dylan."

"You said tall, curly hair, with a bird tattooed on his arm. Luke doesn't have any tattoos, his mom

hates them," I replied, but doubted myself now. I hadn't seen Luke in ages, he'd always been a spoiled Mama's boy and maybe Liz finally caved.  

"That tall drink of water has a hummingbird tattooed on his arm, but that's not important right now. Have y'all hooked up?" You nodded and Calum scowled. "Figures he would be straight," he sighed.

Your brain finally caught up to the situation at hand, and you had an idea. 

"Listen to me Calum, you're gonna wait on him. Offer him a strawberry waffle cone, it's his favorite," you pushed him out of the cooler and back towards the front. 

You popped your head around the corner and whistled making Luke look up from his phone. "I'll be out in a second. I keep telling Dad this freezer needs replaced, have one on the house, but try not to scare off my new employee please," you shoot him a stern look as Calum came around the corner behind you. 

"I'll try not to bite, but I make no promises," Luke laughed before turning his attention to Calum. 

You moved just out of their sight, but still within earshot to see if your little plan worked. 

"So uh, yeah, the boss said you could have a free waffle cone. She said you like strawberry ice cream," Calum started out a squeak but he cleared his throat and continued, in a deep rough tone that gave you the shivers.

"Did she now?" Luke's voice dripped honey and you could hear him smiling. "I'm surprised she remembered, but she's good like that." 

"That's why she's the boss," Calum was cautious, and you stifled a laugh. "Have y'all known each other long? Are you close?"  

"Oh we know each other very well, and we've been close, very close sometimes. She's easy to talk to, I'm sure you know how it is," Luke answered and you had to put your hand over your mouth to hold back a laugh. You'd recognize that syrupy flirtatious tone anywhere, it was obvious Luke was seducing your new employee. You peeked around the counter to see Calum handing Luke his ice cream cone. A double scoop, perfectly dipped, pink and creamy, just barely starting to drip around the edge you watched Luke begin to lap it up while keeping his eyes on Calum.  

The power flickered as Luke leaned back against one of the tables in the dining area, half sitting half standing, his long legs crossed at the ankle. He was wearing the black swim trunks trimmed in bright red every lifeguard wore on duty and a thin white reflective windbreaker unzipped almost all the way to his waist revealing his broad bare chest. You could see Calum fidgeting nervously with the ice cream scoop while trying not to stare. Luke was not making that easy, his lips and tongue working obscenely in a way that was starting to make you horny, and you knew what he was doing and why. Poor Calum didn't stand a chance. It didn't help that he'd worn basketball shorts to work and the clingy fabric made his arousal obvious even where you were standing. 

You stepped back trying to figure out your next step. Your intention had been to introduce Luke and Calum but watching them together made your thoughts wander places they shouldn't. The rain was really coming down, sheeting the windows and sounding like pebbles being hurled against the roof. Daylight had turned dark as the storm really kicked up. You could hear the guys talking as you checked the weather on your phone. You were stuck here at least another 30 minutes as a big blob of red on the radar moved through your area. 

"She said I dare you to kiss the person on either side of you, and I didn't know if I wanted to kill her or kiss her." You heard Luke's voice and realized you'd zoned out and you headed back towards the front. 

You stepped through the swinging doors just in time to hear Calum ask, "why was that?" 

"Because the girl to his left was my friend who was absolutely gagging for Luke's cock," you answered as Calum jumped and Luke laughed.

"What was her name? Crystal? Kristen?" Luke bit the tip of the waffle cone off and sucked the remainder of the ice cream out of the bottom, glancing at you before his eyes returned to Calum. 

"Kirsten, you did end up sleeping with her, " you reminded him. "Tell him who was on the other side."

Luke licked his lips and grinned. "Keeeerstin, that's right, and that 4th of July we all did crazy things if I remember correctly. To my right however was the hottest soccer player in school who I'd had a crush on for ages." 

Calum nodded and Luke's gaze flickered your way once again, his blue eyes bright and mischievous, before he continued, "I was freaking out when we kissed but then he ended up taking me back to his house and we fooled around on his sister's swing set." 

You laughed along with Luke as you watched Calum realize what Luke said. His head snapped up, blinking rapidly and his mouth opened and closed refusing to find words before you saw him look at you, then Luke, and then back to you as everything clicked into place.

"Is that what strawberry ice cream meant? Were you setting me up?" Calum asked.

"Not a setup, but wanted to see if Luke remembered the code. Turns out there's not as dumb as he looks," you walked up to Calum stopping just inches from his chest looking up at him. "And you did say you were bored." 

"What did you have in mind?" He raised his eyebrows at you, still unable to look at Luke. 

“I mean, Luke likes strawberry ice cream, and so do you. I doubt we’re going to have many customers with this rain,” you told him. 

“They closed down the beach because of lightning so no one is coming out,” Luke chimed in. 

“That’s what I was thinking, so it sounds to me like the three of us have some time on our hands,” you replied. You looked at Calum and he nodded but his eyes burned into you.

“Are you sure you’re up for that?” he asked apparently reading your thoughts. 

“I can handle anything,” you puffed your chest out and heard Luke snicker, but you didn’t dare take your eyes off Calum.

“I’m down if y’all are,” he challenged, finally looking at Luke. 

Am I really going to do this? Your thoughts were racing and your heart was pounding as hard as the rain. CAMERAS you thought before remembering you'd been the one who updated the security system and there was a workaround.

Thunder crashed so loudly you felt it shake your bones. No one would come around today, and it made no sense to stay open or send Luke home in this storm. 

"Calum, go make sure the back door is locked, Luke if you could flip the bolt and get the blinds," you told them before you ran back into the office where money was counted. Behind the desk was the breaker box and you flipped the switch that shut off the security cameras and half the lights. 

You poked your head out at Luke and motioned for him to follow you towards the back. You bumped into Calum as he came back towards the front.

"Where are you going?" He asked

"Break room, even with this storm I'm worried about someone peeking in," you reply.

"Really?" Calum was skeptical.

"Around here you never know," Luke told him.

You flipped the light switch, but only two bulbs lit up casting the room in soft blue light with long shadows. 

"So I hear you got a tattoo, Hemmings," you said, trying to break the ice. Calum looked even more nervous than you felt, and you silently asked Luke to take charge. 

He winked at you unzipping his jacket and shrugging it off his shoulders. You noticed he was still lean and lanky but he'd definitely filled out, added some muscle definition. Sure enough, there on his right bicep was a small hummingbird. 

"I can't believe Liz finally caved," you teased.

"Honestly I just went and did it, and then dealt with the consequences. She's still mad, but nothing I can't handle," he replied. Luke looked over towards Calum. "You have way more than I ever will, can I see them?" 

Calum nodded and came up beside you. He started off nervous, but as he explained his tattoos starting with his parents’ initials on his hands, working up past his wrists, to the lovely bird with his sister's name, he explained when and where he'd gotten them. Some, like the thistle on his left bicep, had special meaning relating to friends and family. While others, like the spade and the horseshoe, were aesthetic choices. 

"Is that it?" Luke raised his eyebrows and bit his lip. 

"Nope," Calum smirked, warming to the other's man's attention. He reached behind his neck and in one swift motion pulled his shirt off over his head. You felt your pulse quicken and heard Luke suck in his breath next to you. Calum was brawnier, broad-chested with black ink on brown skin. Without realizing it you reached out to touch him, trailing a fingertip along what looked like a feather etched underneath his collarbone.

"What's this?" You asked, feeling your insides quiver when he turned his brown eyes towards you. 

"It's a silver fern, my mom's Maori from New Zealand," Calum's voice was a sultry whisper.

"And this?" Your fingers slide down to the "Choose Life" on his chest.

"It's from Trainspotting and- OH," Calum moaned as you absentmindedly tugged his nipple.

"Do that again," Luke told you, his hand sliding down over his dick now a bulge in his black and red lifeguard trunks. 

You tugged, harder this time, and were rewarded with a sound somewhere between a moan and a hiss. Calum licked his lips before his mouth hung slightly open as your fingers traveled to the other one, repeating the motion. Both men moaned in response and Calum noticed Luke palming himself through his shorts.

"Enjoying the show?" He asked with a slight smirk.

"Oh my God yes," Luke responded, squeezing his cock slightly. "All I can think about is the two of you sucking me off." 

"I'm down for that," you reply. "What do you say Cal." 

Uncertainty crept into his expression and he paused, "I want to but I've never done that before."

"If you want I can show you," you offered, the idea had you excited like never before. 

"Is that ok?" Calum asked.

Luke's blue eyes went wide. "Fuck yes, please," he whispered.

You untied the drawstring on Luke's shorts and tugged them down past his hips letting his long cock spring free. Rock hard and leaking as you wrapped your hand around the shaft, you could feel his body react to your touch. You stood on your tiptoes and playfully kissed his lips before you sank to your knees in front of him. 

You looked up at Calum who was watching your intently, lips pursed in concentration. 

"You know what you like so start there. Personally I like to tease a bit to start off," you tell him, flicking your tongue around the tip. "You wanna keep it wet and keep it moving. I think spitting is gross but if you gag a little it gets everything nice and sloppy." You took Luke's cock in your mouth getting it slick and shiny as you bobbed your head, taking him further down your throat each time until your nose was almost touching his belly. 

"Oh shit," you heard Luke's growl above you as you came back up for air. You continued pumping him with your hand as you looked up at Calum. 

"Come on, you try," you beckoned to him. 

Calum was eager now, as he kneeled next to you, looked up at Luke, and wrapped his hand around your much smaller one as you stroked Luke's cock together. 

"Oh God," Luke moaned, the sight almost sending him over the edge. 

Calum leaned forward and brushed his lips against the taut skin before his tongue darted out to get his first taste. Luke's knees started to buckle and he leaned back against the break table which was inches behind his thighs. Calum hesitated, eyeing the table before glancing at you, but both you and Luke knew the table could easily hold his weight. 

"It's fine, keep going," you pulled back and gave his arm a nudge.

"Are you sure? I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I have no idea what I’m doing. I almost never do,” he replied.

"You're sucking a dick not disarming a bomb, just don't bite and you'll be fine," you told him with a giggle.

Calum swirled his tongue around the tip and you saw Luke grip the table's edge, his knuckles white. Calum began sucking, softly, and slowly before gaining confidence he built up a rhythm. Luke grunted, his eyes screwed shut and his chest heaved.

"Stop," he pleaded, "you're gonna make me cum too fast." 

Calum pulled back with a pop. "I thought that was the point,"  he smirked up at the older man.

"God what I wouldn't give to let you both take turns riding me," Luke moaned, grasping his cock tightly, fighting for control. 

"What's wrong Luke?" You reached up and ran your thumb along Calum's plump bottom lip. "His pretty mouth got you all excited. Thinking about how you're the first guy he's ever sucked off? About how lucky you are?

"You keep talking like that and you're gonna make me cum in my pants," Calum warned you.

"Not yet, I wanna help with that," Luke growled. 

"We gotta finish you first," Calum grinned and got back to work. Luke cursed loudly as his cock disappeared down the other man's throat. Calum stopped and almost pulled back but kept going. 

You looked up at Luke, he was staring down at the two of you with half-open eyes. You reached up and cupped his balls, giving them a gentle tug. That sent him over the edge.

"Oh shit I'm gonna come," Luke yelled, bucking his hips. Calum tried to swallow but he started coughing so he leaned back, cum dripping from his chin and splattering on his chest. You watched Luke fight to keep his eyes on Calum before they rolled back in his head as his knees shook and his breath escaped him in ragged gasps. 

He sank to the floor next to the two of you watching as you pulled Calum in for a kiss tasting Luke on his lips. When you broke away, Luke was there kissing you first and then Calum. 

"That was so good, let us take care of you now. I bet you're ready to burst. Let's see what we're working with here," he said as he reached into Calum's shorts. You both smiled as Luke pulled out a cock that was a bit shorter but thicker than Luke's. 

"Damn Cal, you've been holding out on me," you purred in his ear as you moved behind him. 

"I would've fucked you that night on the beach if you'd let me," he admitted.

"I was indisposed, but we'll have to make up for that," you tell him before you kissed your way up his neck.

"Raise up a bit," Luke told him as he pulled his shorts up before laying on the carpet. He positioned his head just under Calum's balls blowing on them as you reached around and massaged Calum's cock. "This is gonna be all I think about tomorrow at work. I'm gonna be rock hard sitting up in that chair just thinking about what I wanna do to the two of you." 

A huge thunderclap seems to shake the building and the lights flickered as your lips found Calum's neck as you nipped at his skin. You'd been fantasizing about marking up his throat and couldn't resist leaving a mark. He whined in response and pushed back into you before moaning as Luke's mouth went to work getting Calum's cock nice and wet before sucking and humming on his balls. You continued to suck tiny bruises on Calum's flesh as Luke's mouth stayed busy alternating between working over Calum and talking dirty. 

"I'd love to watch you fuck her before I come up behind you and take that ass. Imagine being between us, having your cock buried in her pussy while you're stretched and full," Luke told him and the idea gave you the most delicious thrill. The idea of Luke fucking Calum into you had you aching for your own release, but right now you wanted to make Calum feel good. You twisted your hand slightly as you stroked his cock.  Calum's head rolled back resting on your shoulder, moaning over and over as you kept one hand on his dick and the other tugged his nipples. You couldn't see what Luke was doing but you heard sucking noises between Calum's moans. 

"I'm getting close," Calum warned you. "Oh God keep doing that," he gasped and you could hear Luke humming as he sucked. 

You jerked him faster, concentrating on the tip, tugging his nipples harder as your teeth grazed along his shoulder. 

He erupted onto Luke's chest with an "Oh God" that was both a prayer and an exultation. Luke quickly moved so he was sucking the tip and the two of you worked together to drain every drop. 

Calum slumped back against you and you peppered his skin with kisses as you felt him shudder as he came down from his high. 

"That was incredible, I don't think I can feel my legs," Calum said as he shifted so he was no longer kneeling. 

"I bet," Luke laughed as he got up. He walked over to the sink in the corner by the refrigerator and grabbed some paper towels. He got himself cleaned up before bringing some back for you and Calum. 

"Are you ok?" Luke asked when he noticed you were breathing heavily. "Do you need your inhaler?" 

You reached out your hand so he could help you up. "I'm fine, that was just intense and I got excited," you winked at him as you stood up. He pulled on your arm and caused you to stumble and fall into his chest. He wrapped you in a cuddle and bent his lips closer to your ear.

"I haven't forgotten about you princess," Luke's words made you shiver with the anticipation. You could tell your panties were soaked and your core throbbed as Luke gripped your hips and lifted you on to the break table. He stepped between your legs and put this hand under your chin and pulled you in for a kiss. Calum was still on his tongue as it tangled with yours and you tasted his essence which was sweeter than Luke's. His hands tugged at your shirt and you broke away to let him lift it over your head. He kissed you again as you fumbled with your bra, unhooking it before you tossed it across the room. Luke's mouth moved to your breasts and you saw Calum still seated on the floor as he watched you with Luke, his eyes glazed over with lust.  

When your eyes met Calum jolted out of his gaze and scrambled to his feet. You almost laughed as he tripped over his own feet as he readjusted his shorts, but at that moment Luke's mouth closed over your stiff nipple and the laugh became a moan.

Luke's fingers were clawing at your waistband and you lifted your hips as he pulled your shorts and panties down at the same time. 

The rain was beating against the roof in sheets now, but you could barely hear it over the sound of your own heartbeat.

Luke spread your legs and stepped back to show Calum. "She how pretty and wet she is for us. We gotta give her something special as a thank you. Want me to show you how to make her squirm," Luke teased, running a finger in between your soaked folds, and you pushed your hips up with a frustrated grunt. 

"Nah," Calum looked you dead in the eye with the cockiest smirk you'd ever seen in your life.

"Trust me, I know what I'm doing. I've been fantasizing about this for weeks," he was talking to Luke but his eyes were on you. "Tell me princess, do you taste as good as you look. I bet you're as sweet and juicy as a pink Starburst." 

You don't even recognize the sound that escaped your lips when Calum's mouth moved between your thighs. His tongue danced and moved in ways you'd never experienced, curling inside you before swooping up between your lips and lapping up your nectar. His pillowy lips sucked on your clit alternating with soft cool puffs of air over your fevered skin.  

Luke buried you in a flurry of kisses and you didn't know where each one was going to land, your mouth, breasts, neck, belly, shoulders, along your hairline or on your fingertips. 

Calum was relentless, barely coming up for air as he buried his face in your pleasure. You felt like a live wire as your nerves danced under your skin while Calum's tongue found every pleasure spot. Your heels beat the table in time with the storm raging outside as your orgasm started to build. You wanted to praise him or cry out but Luke covered your mouth with his. 

You arched your back almost slamming your head back on the table as Calum furiously worked on achieving your high. He wasn't going to let up until you were screaming for him, and you gladly obliged. Your climax hit you hard enough to see stars and your whole body let go.

"Damn baby," Luke's voice was in your ear but sounded very far away. 

You tried to close your legs but Calum wouldn't let you. He held them open still sucking your clit his fingers buried inside you as he coaxed another orgasm out of you.  He moaned into your skin as you drenched his face, your thighs, and the table as you came undone. He didn't stop until you were whimpering from being overstimulated, and only then did he finally pro back. 

He stood up and grabbed Luke for a kiss leaving the tall blonde as breathless as you were. The storm was still raging but your heartbeat was returning to normal. You sat up, a bit embarrassed by the mess.

"Sorry about that, can one of y'all get some towels?" You ask even though you hated to interrupt them. 

"Don't apologize," Luke stroked your thigh, and Calum did as you asked. "That was the hottest thing I've ever seen." He looked over at Calum, "will you teach me how to make her squirt like that." 

"Hell yeah," Calum answered as he gently cleaned you up. He landed a tiny kiss on your nose. "Thank you," he whispered, almost too softly to be heard. You reached down and squeezed his hand as you shared a smile. 

"How about I help y'all close up and we head back to my apartment?" Luke asked. 

"Great idea, we'll order pizza and see where the night goes."  You slid off the table, wobbled a bit but Calum wouldn't let you fall.

"Sounds like a plan, boss," Calum grinned. "Can we get ice cream too?" 

"Sure, what flavor?" You asked as you pulled your shorts up and Luke tossed your bra to you.

"Strawberry," they answered in unison before you all cracked up.

"Oh this is gonna be a great summer," you called over your shoulder as you walked out of the room.

@kiiiimberlyriiiicker1995 @ghostofmashton @sexgodashton @sublimehood @ihatetigers @calteahood @5-secondsofcolor @tea4sykes @wildmichaelflower​ @noshamenion​ @punkrockpreferences​ @rosecolouredash​ @cal-pal-cuddles​ @damselindistressanu​

[musubiki]

Dark Steph give us the forbidden aged up headcanons for Hop. How has our boy grown in your opinion?

OOOH yes....i love it...though my “aged up” hop is just 18 years old hop, 2 years after gloria becomes champion because thats a good age where i like to imagine all of their future adventures!!!

- hes a very good assistant to sonia!!! all his energy is redirected to productive activities and research so they get a lot done!!! sometimes sonia is really tired from work and hop volunteers to finish the reports so she can rest. 

- it was his idea to buy a lil speaker for the lab so they can listen to music while they work. 

- his dubwool helps him out around the lab like sonias yamper helps her!!!!

- buys coffee and a coffee maker for the lab....,,,he cant get enough wake up energy from sonias tea...,,

- is so energetic that he forgets to do basic things sometimes. he has a problem with putting the ladder back on the bookcase so sonia is always struggling to reach high books (sometimes leon grabs them for her when hes home)

- he still lives in postwick with his family!!! since he also helps out around the town with the wooloo heards and takes care of his mom/grandparents

- eventually he stops copying leon and finds his own flare!!! he makes and practices his own unique poses/ball throws/etc for battle!!! when gloria first sees him do it in a battle shes like im so proud of my boy..

- he does a lot of the field research!!! so sonia sends him out to do research around the region (also its a good lil excuse for him to see gloria a lot more often)

- gloria sometimes helps with research too!!! especially since shes known to be like the queen of dynamax battles, she goes with hop to the wild area and they just have a blast battling dynamax pokemon and exploring dens and making curry

- sonia built a dynamax band into her black bracelet thing 2.0!!! and hops the one that wears it now!!!!! 

- hop is always the one to battle gloria in the finals..it pisses bede off because bede is always the last leg before hop gets to gloria and he can NEVER BEAT HOP.....and everytime hop and gloria have a match shes so cute and excited like waving to him across the battlefield, and he just has this sheepish smile and gets all giddy

- hop has fans.......like a lot of fans.......after the first match against gloria right before she became champion he already had a tone of followers, but NOW hes more grown up and tall and handsome and a lot of girls just FAWN over him

- catch him in motostoke trying to get water samples and all these girls are just squealing asking for his autograph on his league card and like clinging to his arm, giving him their numbers, flirting with and/or trying to seduce him and hes just laughing nervously

- queue jealous gloria peering over from behind the nearby corner just sneering “What do those chicks think theyre DOING” and marnie is right next to her, disinterested, just patting her shoulder “There there, you're still his favorite.”

- hes a lot more confident in himself now!!! he doesnt worry about being strong or weak or letting anyone down!! he just enjoys his work and takes a lot of pride in it!!!

- he knew he liked helping pokemon but he like. REALLY likes helping pokemon. him and gloria always help up doing silly little side quests helping a kid find his lost pokemon, or busting some ex-rocket grunts that ended up in galar trying to steal pokemon or something

- despite his confidence hes a MESS when it comes to gloria. he loves her so much his heart can barely contain it when hes around her. when she drops by the lab as a surprise when she doesnt have anything else to do that day his heart FLIPS and starts stammering like “GLORIA!!!! H-hey I didn’t know you were coming hi!! Coming by!! Whats up hahahaa!!!” and sonia and leon just kinda look at each other and smirk

- once in a soft moment gloria lowkey poured her heart out a bit and told him how amazing she thinks he is and how happy she is that she met him, and the rest of the day hes fumbling everything. keeps dropping the water mugs everywhere. knocks over books. zoning out in the lab. sonias just “Hey uhhh why dont you take the rest of the day off?? Youve been working hard!!” in reality hes just. inadvertently making more work for them. go home hop.

- hes so head over heels for gloria. and shes more grown up too so shes....very beautiful....and hes like constantly sweating. 

- hop has a little bit of a jealous flare too. since gloria is so pretty and sweet and STRONG she gets a lot of fans and a lot of people trying to get a date. which he doesnt mind as much as he minds BEDE!!!!!!! gloria sees bede a lot since theyre both in the league and hop is.....agitated.....but glorias never chosen bede over hop in any situation so it eases his nerves a bit...

[mildly-incoherent-ramblings]

Honey Sticks (Straws? Tubes? What Do You Call Them?)

A distant friend's friend was making care packages for trans people and asked folks on Instagram if they wanted them, so I asked for one. This has been a hard season on me and I thought hey, what the hell, worst case scenario I don't get one and its whatever. Right?

This was months ago, and I forgot almost immediately after doing so. It came today. 

There were lots of things included that made me happy, little gestures of sweetness. Two tea bags, one for sleep and one for relaxation, which I had not had much of either and needed. A sticker of a cute little spider, of whom I have complicated feelings for and have grown to love, though from a distance. Some candies, a lemon-honey cough drop, a very nice card, a note and a patch with an anarchy symbol framed in a heart that I bet will probably fade in 3 or so washes but I will wear anyways. It is after all, the thought that counts. But the gesture that warmed my soul and brought me great joy, was the honey stick. 

I didn’t process the significance at first. There were so many of these little items at once and I was just overwhelmed overall by this small expression of kindness. I thanked the person, followed them, thanked the person who had told them I wanted one and made sure I was following them, and set these things aside for a little while to tend to other things. 

I had a stressful situation involving a kitchen mess that triggered me a little and had just sat down after addressing said stressful situation when my eyes fixed on the little honey stick along with the candy I had been given. I ate the mango hi-chew first and briefly was paranoid it would fill the cavities in my teeth and have me regretting it. 

Then I went for the honey stick. I held it in my hands, rolled it gently between my fingers. I watched the honey move through the tube as I squeezed it in different places and the nostalgia started to set in. I remember long drives to the bay as a child with my grandparents and stopping at this little roadside farm that had produce and preserves and flowers and always, little straws filled with honey and sealed off, what I called as a child and refer to now as honey sticks. 

The texture was familiar, cool plastic between my fingers. I popped the seal gently with my teeth and pushed about half the tube onto my tongue. As soon as it hit my taste buds, I was transported to this place. To where my grandfather was still alive, in my mind, during a time where he and my grandmother were still at least as far as I knew, quite happy. The sweetness and the floral and the acidic and the smooth texture floated in my salivating mouth, as tears welled up in my eyes. I felt it coat the back of my teeth, savored it, before swallowing and squeezing from the tube the rest of its contents. I did not waste a single drop of this wonderful gift. I sat with the sadness and the nostalgia and the longing for some time. And then my eyes fixated on the pamphlet from his memorial service hanging in the corner. I miss the man, for all the problems he came with and all the unanswered questions and unresolved hurt I had felt. Missed that time where I had the privilege of being a child, before I was old enough to understand that though my loved ones loved me indeed, their love would only extend as far as their own perspective’s limitations reached.

The last two times I saw my grandpa sit in my stomach like bricks in a burlap sack. The second to last time, he was moving out of state with his good friend, and the last words he chose to say to me were “I love you, Granddaughter.” I had been out as transmasculine to my family for several years, and he was one of the only members of my family who flat out refused to support my decisions. I told my grandma about how I felt about this several months later, at the time worried this may be the last time I ever saw him. I felt like he did not want to see my transition, and did not want to see the man I would become. As much as I love my grandma, she doesn’t keep a secret worth a shit, so of course she went behind my back and told him everything. She always does. 

The very last time we saw each other, he tried to discuss this event and how it impacted him. By this time I was fully growing into my masculine body, had little pubescent hairs shading my upper lip and a deepened voice. He still adamantly misgendered me, refused to even look at me, the entire time. He simply could not see me. He asked me why I would do this to my family. He asked me why I would make them all suffer seeing me like this, as if my choice to live authentically was harmful to everyone around me. He was also under the distinct impression that our loved ones regarded my choices with the same level of disgust he had. He expressed revulsion and shame for my choices, and wanted to agree to disagree, under the impression still that he could just see me as a woman and ignore all the changes I had made and the life I was living, and how much even the other skeptical members of my family had adjusted since. He did not want another grandson, especially one who was a fag. That car ride brought a lot of tension, and the entire time we spent after with my grandma when we met her for lunch, was plated on a bed of unspoken mutual contempt for one another. He salted an already deep and still fresh wound, and it festered over. It still has not quite healed. 

Ironically, it would be revealed not too long after, that my brother had discovered that grandpa himself was in fact very much a gay man. While he was assisting him with formatting his cell phone, my brother would accidentally stumble on a still open incognito tab with some... very gay content still open. Along with that, a string of messages with his “good friend,” who had apparently been his lover the entire time. My brother responded with compulsory homophobic remarks that I will not repeat, but mostly just frustration that he had been dishonest with my grandma all these years. The discomfort that situation has inspired in me still hasn’t properly been unpacked. Everyone was wrong in that situation. Everyone.

Go figure. He and his good friend, “they were roommates.” 

When he passed, my father came and told me in person. I finally spoke of what had happened between us, and even he was angered by the hypocrisy, saying he had known for years that my grandfather was not straight. I know now that how he treated me was what he did for himself to avoid suspicion. Because if I had the audacity to be out, that meant there was little left for an excuse for him to hide. I threatened his cover. I threatened his disguise. I cracked his mask. I left his closet open ajar and he peered outside, horrified at the possibilities he saw.

Acknowledging all this, even still, I could not help but enjoy this moment of being brought back to this familiar childhood memory, before all of that would happen. This person who sent me this great gift could not have known the significance, but rest assured, I am quite grateful. I enjoyed this moment and then it was gone, and then it was back to reality in front of my computer, staring at the wall. The knowledge that that same man who loved me dearly was also undeniably cruel to me burned my skin and flooded my eyes. Hidden beneath that hurt and sadness, I felt remorse for him, because he never did feel safe speaking his truth to us, not even to the others in our family who related to him. I often think of his lover, and how painful it must have been for this man to mourn him publicly as a good friend, and privately as an intimate partner of whom adored him and cared for him in ways they could not ever feel safe speaking of.

Sitting with this conflict of nostalgia and longing for the safety of my adolescent ignorance, with the truth and the reality as I have come to know it, I let my own mask fall, and cried for the first time in months since he had died. It is possible to both love a person who was once good to you and also acknowledge when their actions created harm, and to hold them accountable. I do not believe it to be disrespect to the dead to also speak of their faults as well as their glory. Joy and sadness and frustration and unanswered questions looked down on me, crowded around me, mocked me.

My hands shake as I type and I am overwhelmed with the juxtaposition of these strong emotions.

Written some time in mid July.

RIP August 19th, 2020

[missmentelle]

Tips for cutting off toxic, manipulative, and abusive parents?

I recently wrote a guide to escaping from a toxic household if you are currently living with your parents, but to summarize, cutting them off basically boils down to two things: financial independence and emotional resolve. 

When you are cutting your parents out of your life permanently, the most important thing to do is to get yourself into a position where you no longer need them for anything financially. This doesn’t necessarily mean that you need to be debt-free or living a middle class lifestyle - you just need to be able to pay for all of your rent and expenses every month without any assistance from them. If you are still in school, you need to secure a way to pay for your remaining tuition - like a scholarship, needs-based financial aid or student loan - and make sure that you don’t need your parents’ signatures on anything to get that money. Needing any kind of money or material support from your parents gives them leverage over you; it’s something that they can hold over your head to maintain control of you. So long as you rely on them for room and board, tuition or financial support, cutting them off is not going to be a realistic option for you - once they have no financial hold over you anymore, they have no weapon to wield against you. 

Achieving financial independence is something that is obviously easier said than done, but as someone who has been financially independent since age 19 (not because my parents are abusive, but because they are flat broke) and financed two degrees by myself, there are a couple of tips that you can use to get there as quickly as possible:

Start saving money in a place where they can’t get it. Make sure that you have a bank account in your name only, so that your parents cannot take money out of your account or tell how much you have. 

Start building your credit. You will not have an “oops, mom, I’m short on rent this month, can you send me $200?” lifeline that your peers have. Your “in case of emergency” plan is your credit card. Get a basic credit card - even if it’s a “secured” card that makes you keep $500 in your bank account to get it - and start building your credit. Make one purchase with the card per month and pay it off right away to avoid interest. Be responsible with your card, and build a good credit score as quickly as you can - this will make it much easier for you to rent apartments, get loans and buy a house later down the line. 

Get a budgeting app or spreadsheet and learn to use it. Make sure you know exactly how much you earn, how much you spend, how much you’re saving, and how much money you need to have in order to be financially independent. Knowing where your money is going is an essential part of the process. 

If you’re in school, try to graduate on time. Make sure you are taking a full course load if you can, and make sure that you are taking the correct courses for graduation. Delaying graduation often means delaying your independence. 

Ask for help when you need it. If you are in school, ask your financial aid office or student advisor for information about scholarships, bursaries and grants. If you’re working, ask your boss about professional development and career advancement opportunities. 

Take on odd jobs if you need to. I have worked many odd jobs to keep myself afloat and build my savings - you can see if anyone needs babysitting, tutoring, help with yard work, dog walking, etc. I’ve done paid freelancing writing, taught English online, delivered flyers and taken on part-time jobs; sometimes you have to grind a little bit to give yourself a cushion of savings. 

Minimize your spending. It goes without saying, but it’s easier to be financially independent if you find ways to live on less money. Find roommates or rent a room in someone’s home instead of finding your own apartment. Try to minimize your subscription services and make sure you’re not paying for subscriptions you no longer use. Learn to cook and make as many meals at home as possible. 

The other important component of cutting off manipulative and abusive parents is to gather up your emotional resolve and commit to cutting them out of your life. Toxic and manipulative parents will use every tactic in the book to try to get back into your life - you know your parents best, but expect that they might beg, lie, threaten, make false promises, make appeals for sympathy, or use other underhanded tactics to try to regain control of you. They may drag other people that you care about into the situation and have those people plead on their behalf. Some do whatever they can to get you to drop your guard and let them in again. Start thinking about that possibility now, so that you can prepare for anything they might throw at you. Remember:

Don’t panic if your parents call the cops or report you missing. If you are an adult, you cannot be forced to go home to your parents, even if your parents report you missing. If law enforcement contacts you, answer their questions, explain that your parents are controlling, let them know that you don’t want any help and tell them that you don’t want your personal information released to your parents. Your family will only be told that you were located safe and that your case is closed. 

Lock down your social media and online presence. Block your parents from your phone, and make sure that they are blocked from all of your social media accounts so that they cannot get information on you. It may be a good idea to set your accounts to private for a while or change your handles and profile pictures so that they cannot find you. 

Prepare yourself for the possibility that you might have to cut off other family members too. When you cut off your parents, brace yourself for the possibility that other members of your family that you were on good terms with - aunts, uncles, grandparents, cousins, etc - may take your parents’ side, or may reach out to encourage you to forgive your parents “for the sake of the family” or “to keep the peace”. Being free of your parents sometimes means cutting ties with family members who won’t respect your decision. 

Remember the reasons that you decided to cut them off in the first place. Sometimes when you’ve been away from an abuser for a while, you will start to forget the abuse and become nostalgic for the good times that you had with that person. You might even decide that you “overreacted” by cutting them off and consider give them a second chance. Tread carefully with this. Remind yourself of the reasons you left.

The first few months after you leave may be difficult. Your parents may fight back against your decision as hard as they possibly can, and you may find that you have a lot of grieving to do - not because you miss your parents, necessarily, but because you have to come to terms with the fact that you will never have the loving and healthy relationship with your parents that you may have wanted. You will get through it. Seek out support from therapists or from other people who have cut off their parents. Focus on forming new, healthy relationships with the people in your life. Build a life free from abuse, a life that makes you happy and fulfilled. Stay strong, stay focused. Remember that you deserved better than your parents were willing to give.  Best of luck to you.  MM

[khoicesbyk]

The Nanny Affair.

The Vacation Of A Lifetime. Part 3.

Author’s Note: This fanfic right here is based off of the preview for Chapter 14. This will be four parts. First is what happens before they get to Italy. And the second, third and fourth parts will be what happens once they land. So; Talley Ho! *in my Sherlock Holmes voice*

***Rated: Mature 18+. Contains sexual content and strong language. You know? The usual from me. 😁

***Bolded and/or italicized words are conversations and thoughts of the characters.

***Characters: Sam Dalton (LI) and Krystal Parker (MC). (Special appearances by my TRR MC Shanelle Dawkins, LI King Marquise)

***All Characters and names (except MC) are property of Pixelberry.

Current Word Count: 2,826 words.

Yip! Yippee! It’s Part 3! (I was only going to make this a three part series but I changed my mind after releasing part 2. 🤷🏾‍♀️)

It was the evening of gala at the Cordonian embassy.

And after spending the morning and afternoon with the boys; Krystal was in her room trying to figure out what she wanted to wear.

“Decisions! Decisions! Decisions! Do I go with the black? Do I go with the fuchsia? Ooh! Maybe the coral one will work!”, she said as she looked over the options in front of her. Just then; there was a knock at her door. When she opened it; a man was standing there with a garment bag and two smaller boxes. “For you; Ms. Parker. Courtesy of Queen Shanelle herself.”, he said in a thick European accent as he handed her the items.

“Oh! Well, thank you! Tell her majesty that I’m honored!”, she said. He nodded and was then gone. As she sat them down on her bed; she noticed an envelope on top of the smaller of the two boxes.

She opened it to find a small card that read, “time to play dress up! If it’s not too much for you…trouble! ;) M.” As she remembered; she, Shanelle and Jenny used to be called TMI back in school. Krystal was T aka The Troublemaker. Shanelle was M aka The Matchmaker. And Jenny was I aka The Investigator.

They were a trip and a half back in those days.

When she opened the garment bag; she found a beautiful, off shoulder violet mermaid gown by Givenchy. In the larger of the two boxes; were a pair of black Gucci stilettos and a matching clutch. And in the smallest box; were a pair of diamond tear drop earrings and with a matching tear drop pendant. Her jaw hit the floor. She didn’t know what Shanelle’s intentions were; but so far she liked where they were headed, in terms of her new outfit.

After showering and changing; she was headed down to the lobby. One thing she was thankful for; is that the boys got ready with their dad in his room. When she got there; she was greeted by her three favorite people.

“Whoa! You look great Krystal!”, Mason said.

“Yeah! You look like a real life princess!”, Mickey quipped. Her heart melted at their words.

“Awwww! Thanks you two!”, she said as she wrapped them up in a fierce hug.

“They’re right ya know?”, Sam added after finally coming out of his trance. “You look absolutely stunning!”

“Thank you.”, she replied.

“Shall we everyone?”, he asked; and with that, they were in the transport and off to the embassy. As they were on their way; Krystal asks, “where’s Sofia? Is she sick again?”

“No. She’s coming with her dad and brother. And my parents are coming with Robin.”, he replies. Soon; they arrived and were greeted by flashing cameras and paparazzi. He offered her his arm; and they and the boys were escorted inside to the main ballroom. Upon entering the the ballroom; they were greeted by Sofia and the two families. “Well! Don’t you look absolutely lovely, Krystal! That dress is exquisite! Is it new?”, Mrs. Dalton asked. Sofia on the other hand; had her nose up in the air. “Yes. She does look somewhat put together, doesn’t she?”

“Thank you, ladies. It’s a gift from a very close friend.”, she replied. Robin walks up and has to do a double take when he sees her. With wolfish grin he says to her, “Damn Krystal! If you were trying to get my attention; you got it!”

She rolled her eyes at him but; never said a word. That’s when the Cordonian National Anthem was played; and Queen Shanelle, King Marquise flanked by her parents, Crown Princess Khari and the Royal Council enter the room. They were a very polarizing couple. Krystal was star struck looking at his majesty.

“Dammit Match! How did you get so lucky with all that tall, fine and chocolate?!”, she muttered to herself. When the two friends spotted one another; they just winked and smiled at each other.

“Dignitaries and esteemed guests. It is a true honor and privilege, to host all of you this evening. It is the hope of myself and my queen that you all enjoy yourselves tonight.”, says King Marquise. Dinner is soon served once everyone is seated. Krystal was seated in the back with the boys; per Sofia’s request.

Dinner was delicious! It was Pan Seared Alaskan Salmon topped with Colossal Shrimp in Lobster Sauce and Filet Mignon topped with Béarnaise Sauce. Served with Pan Roasted Brussel sprouts, Honey Glazed Carrots and King Oyster Mushroom Risotto. The boys were served Roman style pepperoni pizza; that was gone in the blink of an eye.

Sam soon comes over to check on them. “Well? How was it, everyone?”, he asks.

“It was awesome dad!”, Mickey exclaimed.

“Yeah! They even gave us extra cheese!”, Mason quipped.

“I’m happy to hear that boys. And; what about you, Krystal? How was your dinner?”, he asks her. “It was great! My compliments to the chef.”, she replies.

“Wonderful! Hey you two, can you behave yourselves, while I talk to Krystal for a second?”, Sam asked the boys; who nodded their heads, in response. He pulled her aside and explained, “I’m sorry that you three are all the way back here. By the time I knew where Sofia had you all sitting; it was too late to request a seating change.”,

“It’s fine. I can’t be surprised that she has us back here. She wants us out the way.”, she replied. “Looks like The Royal Family is making the rounds. You should go speak to the King while you can.”, she tells him.

With a nod; Sam disappears into the crowd of people forming around King Marquise. As Krystal takes her seat again, Shanelle walks up with her her father.

“Oh no! I thought I was done with you; when you girls graduated.”, Rev. Dawkins jokingly said to Krystal before giving her a hug. “Hello to you too Poppa D!”, she says as she hugs him back. “Boys, say hello to Rev. Dr. Rodney Dawkins Sr.”

“Hiiiiiiiii!”, they say to him in an enthusiastic greeting. He nods to them both. “So, Shanelle tells me; you’re their nanny, is it?”, he asks her and she nods her head, yes. “Well I hope they give you as many gray hairs as you Jenny and Nelle always gave me.”

“Daddy!”, Shanelle fussed at her father.

“What?! You three caused more trouble than I care to count!”, he responds to his daughter; before she rolls her eyes at him as he takes his leave.

“You look like royalty sweetie! I love that dress on you! Where’d you get it?”, she says to Krystal with a grin. “I got it from a friend! She’s always in the right place.”, Krystal replies with a wink.

“I have to ask why you’re so far back here? It’s positively lonely!”, Shanelle asks. Krystal pointed to Sofia, who was currently trying to schmooze the King as her answer. Shanelle took both notice and exception.

As the boys ran off with their grandparents, Shanelle said to Krystal. “I swear that bitch needs a good kick in the ass! Can you believe that she actually tried to treat me, like I’m not The Queen Of Cordonia?!”

“Welcome to my life! She calls me ‘the help’”, Krystal responded. “That gives me an idea! You up for some fun, trouble?”, Shanelle says with a grin. Before Krystal could answer; Shanelle was off in the direction towards her husband. That’s when Sam walks over to Krystal; with a flute of champagne in each hand.

“Enjoying yourself tonight?”, he asked as he handed her the champagne. “I am! I’m loving all of the fashion!”, she responds.

That’s when Sofia and Robin walk over. “I wondered where you wandered off to boo bear! I guess you had to keep Krystal company at some point.”, she said to them. “I mean if you wanted company Krystal; all you had to do was ask me! We could’ve blown this joint and headed back to my room for a little private time.”, he said.

Krystal grimaced at his words and Sam’s jaw clenched. Before Robin could say more; all eyes fell on the Royal couple on the dance floor; in the middle of the ballroom. “Now comes my favorite part of the night! The first dance!”, he said as the crowd clapped.

“Now; normally this dance is only reserved for my wife, The Queen. But with her blessing; I’ll be sharing this dance with another woman.”, he said as he turned towards Krystal and the others.

“Ohhhhhhhh myyyyyyyyy God! I’m so honored your majesty! I will happily dance with you!”, Sofia squealed. Shanelle glared daggers at Sofia. “Ms. Russo although I appreciate your excitement; the woman I’m referring to is Ms. Parker.”, he said as he looked towards Krystal. Who was recovering from nearly choking on her champagne.

“You want to dance with Krystal?! But your majesty; she’s so common! Wouldn’t you rather dance with someone who’s more refined? Like me?”, she said trying to convince King Marquise to reconsider. “This was a personal request from my wife. And what My Queen wants, My Queen gets. Now, if you’ll excuse me…”, he says as he starts walking past her.

Sofia is devastated and Krystal is trying not to faint. As his majesty walked closer; Krystal’s mind raced. “Ohmygod! Ohmygod! Ohmygod! His majesty is getting closer! And he wants to dance with me! Ohmygod! He wants to dance with me?! He wants to dance with me!”

With a bow; King Marquise took her right hand and asks Krystal, “Ms. Parker will you dance with me?” She was stuck for a moment. But eventually she says, “Absolutely your majesty! I would love to dance with you!”

With a final swig of her drink; she throws her glass at Robin’s chest and takes The King’s arm. For a moment; she forgot Sam even existed as she went to the dance floor. As they got closer to the center of the dance floor; she got a wink and a thumbs up from Shanelle.

And when the music started; off she and King Marquise went. “Your majesty please don’t take what I’m about to say to you wrong but; your wife is certifiably insane!”, she says to him. “Rest assured Ms. Parker; I’m used to my wife’s peculiarities. It’s honor to dance with you.”, he responds to her. She tries her hardest not to blush very hard. As they danced; Sam and Sofia looked on. She was absolutely livid and he was extremely jealous. Shanelle took notice and decided to speak with them.

“Hello you two! I hope you’re enjoying yourselves so far!”, she said to them with warm smile.

“Oh please! You can cut the crap; your majesty! That first dance was supposed to be mine! But instead! It goes to Krystal of all people!”, she sneered at Shanelle. It caused Shanelle’s smile to go from warm to icy. “I’d tread lightly if I were you; Ms. Russo! After all; I’m the one who’s not only wearing a tiara; but I’m also the one who rules a kingdom!”, she snapped back at Sofia.

“Now your majesty; I’m sure my fiancée didn’t mean what she said to you.”, Sam said hoping to quell the rise in voices. “For the sake of you, your company and the deal you brought forth; let’s hope so. Because; only one of us can convince my husband to sign onto your Nightingale Project, and it’s certainly not gonna be her.”, Shanelle said while gesturing to Sofia.

“Now; if you both will excuse me, I have to go rescue Krystal from my husband. Have a good rest of your evening!”, Shanelle says to them before sauntering towards the dance floor. Marquise notices Shanelle approaching and whispers to Krystal, “I believe this is the part where my wife cuts in.”

Krystal replies, “Dang! Just when I starting to have fun! Thank you so much for dancing with me your majesty! You’ve made my entire night! And I do hope you’ll consider agreeing to Dalton Enterprises’ Nightingale Project proposal.”

“I will most certainly consider it, Ms. Parker. After all; you made quite the case for it during our dance. Sam is lucky to have you work for him.”, he replies. “Looks like I’m just in time to rescue you, Krystal!”, Shanelle says.

“Rescue me? Why whatever for?”, she asks Shanelle. “Because; he’ll dance your poor little feet off, if I let him.”, Shanelle replied with a wink.

“Hah! Trust me; I wouldn’t have complained one bit! But in all seriousness; thank you so much Nelle! I don’t think I could’ve asked for a better dance partner.”, she says as King Marquise kisses the back of her right hand. “Don’t mind him! He’s just being a show off now.”, Shanelle said before the two embraced.

Krystal soon left the ballroom; and walked to the terrace to gather her thoughts and get some fresh air. That’s when she was confronted by Sofia. “I bet you’re really happy with yourself right now!”, she sneered.

“What are you talking about?”, she asks Sofia. “I can not believe that you had the audacity to embarrass me!”, she replies with rage in her eyes. Krystal figured out that Sofia was extremely jealous. “Are you seriously standing here; upset over a dance?”, Krystal asks.

“No I’m upset over the dance! I’m upset that ‘the help’ keeps forgetting her place! You are common! And no matter how many times you wear a designer gown; you will STILL ALWAYS BE common! Your job is to watch the boys! That’s it! That’s all! It is NOT to be dancing with his majesty! And it’s certainly not embarrass me! You’re not high society! You’ve never been high society! And you never will be high society!”, Sofia said in a venomous tone.

Just then; Sam joins them. “What’s going on here?”

“Nothing boo bear! I’m just reminding Krystal of her place.”, she says to him sweetly; before turning on her heels and heading back inside. Sam soon turns to Krystal and says, “you do realize that you dancing with his majesty was highly inappropriate; right?”

“What are you talking about?! How was it inappropriate?!”, she asks him clearly confused. “I am in VERY tense negotiations with his majesty, Krystal! Anything could tip the scales both in and out of my favor. You dancing with him If anything; it makes me and my company look desperate and weak!”, he snapped at her.

“Oh my God! You’re just as jealous as she is. Maybe even worse than she is!”, Krystal said to him. He scoffed at her and said, “No I’m not! I’m pissed that everything I have worked towards the last day and a half could all be for nothing because of you!”, he said to her in a raised tone. She was in total shock. “It’s time for the boys to get to bed. Make sure, that they are sleep before I get back to the hotel.”, he tells her; before walking back into the ballroom. She couldn’t believe what just happened. She just got her head bit off and her ass chewed out.

As she entered the ballroom; she went looking for and found the boys sitting at their table. They were indeed sleepy. That’s when the royal couple was joined by Mr. and Mrs. Dalton.

“Esteemed guests! My Queen and I would like to thank each and every one of you; for joining us here tonight! We sincerely appreciate and hope you found our hospitality to your liking. I would also like to take the time to announce that Cordonia; will officially be partnering with Dalton Enterprises on their Nightingale Project! With their company always being at the forefront of innovation; we as a grateful nation, look forward to becoming a technology and innovation hub; for years to come! We will officially be signing the contracts tomorrow after the summit is over. This is all thanks to Ms. Parker. Her engaging conversation during our lovely dance was the tipping point for me.”, King Marquise announces as he shakes Mr. Dalton’s hand.

Sam stood there in a stunned silence. She got him the contract; he’d so desperately wanted and needed. But! He yelled at and was incredibly rude to her thinking she had ruined it all for him. When he looked around for her; she and the boys were gone. They were on their way back to the hotel.

After getting the boys ready for bed; she entered her room; took her shoes off and collapsed onto her bed in a mess of tears. After crying for what seemed like forever; there was a knock at her door. It was Sam.

She just stood there with blood shot eyes staring at him. She didn’t know what to say to him. And he didn’t know where to begin his apology to her.

@txemrn @lucy-268 @choicesficwriterscreations

Stay tuned for Part 4 and the finale!

😘

K.

[taekookficrecs]

Do you have any taekook average/long fics related to mafia/gang stuffs with a hint of angst and smut? (Top tae if possible) Thank you ! ❤

helloooo !! gang aus coming up :) these might not have all the elements each of you are looking for (especially the angst since these aus tend to be pretty heavy) but i hope you can enjoy them nonetheless.

Kiss With a Fist - byeolguk (( 30/? | M | 187,718 ))

“Need a little help, love?” Jungkook asks, teasing him.

“Nah I had it all under control, sweetheart,” Taehyung answers with a smile, blood oozing from his split lip. Goddamn even smiling hurt now. Fuckity fuck fuck. Jungkook only rolls his eyes, his cocky smirk never slipping and Taehyung almost forgets how much pain he’s in.

Taekook Prison Au

The Viper and His Bunny - buttercupguk (sselizabeth) (( 29/? | M | 241,895 ))

Taehyung had the entirety of Seoul in the palm of his hand, known venomously as the Viper for his reckless trigger finger. He never thought he'd be good for anything but killing—until he fell upon the bunny hybrid who'd been to hell and back twice, with eyes as starry as the solar system and a heart just as big.

Featuring right-hand man and assassin Jimin, intelligence ace Namjoon, designated doctor Hoseok, and war criminal Yoongi.

“There are people out there who would destroy this city to take me down. You know they'll try to get to you, right, bunny?"

One ear lopped over, Jungkook said petulantly, "Let them try. They won't get far."

Baby doll, you’re perfect - BTSLarryAf (( 34/34 | E | 117,194 ))

Yoongi got involved in a gang activity to take care of himself and especially his baby brother because they had horrible childhood. He’s been trying to keep Taehyung away from that world to keep him safe. The younger lived with their grandparents but after both of them die, Yoongi has no choice but to bring Taehyung to live with him and the gang to keep him safe.

His boss Jeongguk isn’t fond of the idea of an annoying kid living with them but somehow Taehyung gets under his skin. He gets a perfect idea – he might have some fun with corrupting the innocent guy and get some occasional good fuck from it. Little does he know that Taehyung has darkness inside him, darkness that slowly starts coming up on surface and infatuates the gangster. And over time, Taehyung makes a way into the boss’ cold heart.

down to the needle - aeterisks (( 1/1 | E | 50,445 ))

Where Taehyung focused on bold, strong edges, Jeongguk was all about delicacy and attention to detail. Two sides of the same coin that perhaps shouldn't have ever met in the first place. However, once Jeongguk starts to get to know him, he just can't pull away.

But I Still Want You - shargukkie (( 14/14 | E | 33,044 ))

After breaking into a building own by the feared tech gang, the Kim Group, Jungkook found himself on a run to escape from being caught that brought him to walking all alone in a deserted highway. That was when he received a free lift from a passing driver named Taehyung without knowing the real danger that awaited him.

It’s Getting Ugly! - meganni (( 1/1 | E | 39,123 ))

Basically, Jeongguk and Taehyung are in a gang that is full of individuals with mental health problems, most of which they refuse to face. So what the two of them do is basically go with it.

And oh, they have loads of filthy sex on the side.

refrigerator humming, chewing gum and instant karma - locks (( 8/8 | E | 61,449 ))

Taehyung sets the flowers down on the dining table, plucking the card off the little holder. "Dearest Taehyung, just wanted you to know that I'm thinking about you. I hope you're thinking about me too. Love--" he pauses and squints before cocking an eyebrow and pursing his lips. "Hyung, why is the boss of your little boy band gang professing his love for me?"

Yoongi drops the noodles on the floor with a loud curse as he burns his hand.

Or, Taehyung's been trying his hardest to avoid Yoongi's criminal life for a long ass time, but a cute kid and his infuriating father keep pulling him deeper into the mix.

House of Cards - sugamins (( 25/25 | E | 394,890 ))

Jungkook is the heir to a mob empire, the most notorious in the whole of Seoul. Taehyung is a rookie sent in to infiltrate by his select team and bring the empire crumbling down.

"You knew the game and played it, it kills to know that you have been defeated."

lover not a fighter, but i’ll fight for what i love - suninhersmile (( 51/51 | E | 195,669 ))

Jungkook leaned into his hand, nuzzling his palm. Warmth shot down Taehyung’s arm.

“I want you to take care of me, TaeTae hyungie,” he mumbled. He kissed the palm of his hand, his lips soft and plump against the rough skin. “I like you a lot.”

Warmth bloomed in Taehyung’s chest. He felt his eyes soften as he looked at Jungkook, and he smiled slightly.

“I like you a lot, too,” he whispered.

~

Kim Taehyung didn't know what to expect when he was hired to protect the son of South Korea's most notorious gang leader, but he certainly never expected to fall in love with him.

[read the tags!!]

Taste of Ink - sugamins (( 12/12 | M | 128,177 ))

Jungkook is a drug runner for the largest gang in the whole of Busan: the Sam Yong Pa.

One day he bumps into a runner for a rival gang in the next district that has trespassed into their territory: a Geum Sung Pa boy called Jimin. Jimin has a friend, a goon for the rival gang.

Taehyung beats people up for a living, and boy, does he look good when he’s doing it.

But their blossoming friendships reignite old gang flames and causes the most brutal gang war the country has ever seen.

Dragons destroy and stars explode.

Only Breathing - Aquiver - Sharleena (( 1/1 | E | 24,388 ))

Like all things about Taehyung, being loved by him is loud, messy and familiar. Under lilac neon lights his hair is a shade lighter and his skin is gold, Jungkook's hands tremble when he touches it and Taehyung keeps mixing weird sauces in his ramen.

“Do you still quiver when I touch you?”

“Always.”

of smokey bars and burning hearts - madeliefie (( 11/11 | N/R | 47,106 ))

The boy -man- is beautiful. The way the light shines on his face tugs at Jeongguk's heartstrings and for the first time in his life, he's caught off guard. Jeongguk knows he isn't going to heaven and he figures that this boy is the closest thing to an angel he'll get.

Taehyung wants the world to know who he is and Jeongguk is dangerous enough to make that happen.

Red Dragon on a back - narcisara (( 8/8 | E | 33,361 ))

“I hope you understand. Please, don't expect that if you ask me to drop everything, I'll actually do it, because I can't and won't,” Jeongguk adds, turning around, his face is serious, his lips forming a straight line.

Taehyung doesn't know what being yourself around someone else means, Jeongguk is there to show him.

abyssal - smoltae (( 37/37 | G | 70,426 ))

Jeon Jeongguk has always appreciated rare, beautiful things. And Kim Taehyung? He is as rare and beautiful as they come.

or, Jeongguk is a mobster with a weakness for rare art, and Taehyung is the only captive mermaid in Seoul. And maybe, they are meant to save each other.

You’re my snow - froot_loops, regina_phalagne (( 18/18 | N/R | 52,422 ))

Taehyung expected his life to be endangered, given that his brother is working for Seoul's biggest underground organization (which really is just a fancy word for Mafia if you asked Tae), yet he didn’t expect a dark haired stranger bursting in while he was taking a bath.

Bang Bang, You Shot Me Down - orphan_account (( 9/9 | E | 82,760 ))

“Revenge, Jeongguk, is a dish best served cold. Fuck that.” Taehyung grinned, both hands on Jeongguk's hips. “It’s hot outside and my blood is boiling. Together, baby, we’ll serve it ablaze.”

admin nj - pls enjoy :)

[royallyprincesslilly]

Title: Convince Me To Go {9}*

AU Chris Evans x Reader

Warning: Mild Cursing, Mild Smut, NSFW

Words: 2.4k

Summary: When we run away, we’re usually running from something. This time you may have run toward it instead.

Note: Welp. 🤷🏾‍♀️  I hope you enjoy this.

***Loosely Edited/Proofread***

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

“And I win again!” You stood on the bed and danced around as he sat there with the Uno cards showing his defeat.

 “You know, they say a winner should always be graceful.”

 “Fuck that. I won, I won, I won. You lost, you lost, you lost. I’m a winner. You’re a loser!” He smiled and shook his head then grabbed your ankles and pulled you back to the bed. You shrieked and giggled when he climbed on top of you.

 “I’m a loser? Oh yeah?” he tickled you making you laugh loudly as you wiggled around trying to escape him.

 “Aaah, stop. Stop.”

 “No, not a chance.” He continued and you shrieked.

“Come on, prince charming isn’t supposed to do this.” You pouted and he stopped and smiled looking at the childish expression.

 “You’re right. Just take it back.”

 “Fine, I take it back. You’re not a loser.” He nodded in appeasement.

 “I’m glad you think so, because I think I’m a winner. You’re here right.” You smiled slowly and nodded.

 “I am.” Sadness washed over you. You were here right now, and you wanted to stay here.

 “What’s wrong?”

 “I want to stay,” you whispered.

 For the first time, he thought about reality.

 “Convince me to go.”

 “Why would I do that?

 “Because, I have a life to get back to,” you informed.

 “Ah right, your fancy life.” He rolled to the side and propped his head onto his arm as he watched you. “The same life you ran away from.”

 Rolling your eyes, you looked into the ceiling. “All right. I can do that.” He cleared his throat loudly and slide back to perch on the grey concrete block that was his headboard. “You can’t stay, you have to get back to that wonderful life with parents who want you to be someone you’re not. A career you’re good at and enjoy but feels stifling. You have to get back to a confining life in a confining place so you can be practical.”

 A feeling of dread filled you. When he put it like that who the hell would want to go back to that? The look on your face must have said it all because he snorted out. “You look like you’re going to be sick.”

 “I mean you suck at convincing me to go.”

 He shrugged and sighed. “Did you know you moan in your sleep. It sounds soft and innocent.”

 You looked at him and studied him, he was staring down at the sheets as if he were thinking about something of great importance.

 “I didn’t know that.”

 “You do, I like it.” Your eyes met again, and you nibbled your bottom lip as your heart skipped a beat.

 “You snore, I don’t like it.” His laugh was loud again, and it filled the room, it made you laugh along with him. slowly your laughter died down and the silence in the room returned.

 “Why did you leave?”

 “It was time. I came to the realization that who I was there was never the person I wanted to be; I wasn’t happy. I was happiest here and I was who I wanted to be,” he explained.

 “And who was that?”

 “The guy who drinks beer over wine, and Gin over fruity drinks, the guy with a truck rather than a Mercedes, someone who put family above all else and who looked in the mirror and felt good enough and happy to be who he is. The guy who prefers whole in the wall bars over sky top restaurants and bars that have more drinks on the menu that sound like they’re foreign countries as opposed to drinks. I’m the down to earth man who still had a drawer full of butterscotch, who loves fresh snow and eats more than his weight. The man who--.”

 “Would barge into a dark alley to save the rich princess at the drop of a hat, the guy who laughs with everything in him and whose smiles come all the way up to his eyes, the guy who sucks at Uno and can say every word to Ice Cube’s Do It. the man who has a carved out spot for him in a bookcase at the library right next to books about the meaning of life and other deep philosophical topics, the man who would fight off two muggers without a care of getting severely injured just to keep a woman safe. The guy who would open his home to a complete stranger, one he didn’t like and ridiculed not even eight hours ago. The man who is a pretty damn good architect, but an even better contractor, the man who never needs to prove himself to anyone about his worth. The kind, chivalrous, valiant, fun, giving, hilarious, patient, adventurous, sweet, guy?”

 His smile was soft as he stared at you. Every word you spoke his chest felt tighter and tighter. You saw him, really saw him. saw him better than anyone. Six hours and you’d just made the last six years of his life seem like a complete waste of time.

 “I never said I didn’t like you.”

 “Oh no? So you’re an asshole to everyone you like?” His jaw dropped.

 “Asshole? Really?” You nodded.

 “Wow.”

 “Calm down, you’re the nicest asshole anyone could ever meet.” He laughed again and smiled at you.

 “I see you too fancy face.”

 “What do you see?”

 “The woman who wants to belong and is trying to force it where she doesn’t. A woman who doesn’t realizes she has a voice and that voice is incredibly strong and powerful. A woman who while boring by her definition actually can be the life of the party if she only allowed herself. A woman who is so damn smart she could do anything she set her mind to. A woman who though sheltered is not naive, though guarded is able to trust, though completely blind can see. A woman who is so brave but can’t see it, who is such a badass she can mace one perp then tazer another unconscious and in the same breath remember to apply pressure to a wound. A woman who has such a big heart that she is willing to worry and care about a complete stranger. A woman who lingers close to practicality more times than not because she is afraid of taking a chance. The woman who I’ve found after careful research is good at everything we’ve done. Dancing, eating, drinking, being a hero, a nurse, you name it. The funny, perplexing, sweet, fun, adventurous, giving, compassionate, gorgeous, oxymoron of a woman.”

 Tears filled your eyes on the verge of spilling over. He didn’t want you to go. He wanted you to stay with him, consequences be damned. He watched them fall and you looked away and sniffled.

 “Goddamn it. You’re supposed to be convincing me to go.”

 “I know.”

 “You suck at this.” You wiped at the tears. He slid down to where you were in the bed and pulled you close.

 “I do. I don’t want to convince you to go. I want you to stay, right here.” You searched his eyes trying to understand what he meant.

 “You don’t mean that.”

 “I do. I really mean it. I mean it more than I’ve meant anything I’ve said in the last few years,” he admitted.

 “This is—no, you know nothing about me. We’ve known each other six hours.”

 “Technically, we can call it two days. This has been the best two days I’ve had in a long time. Tell me you don’t agree.”

 “I—I--, of course, I agree. It’s been great,” you agreed.

 “See, so funny people say you can fall in love at first sight. My grandparents met, fell in love and got married in the span of a month. Their story was always a fairytale to me and my siblings. It was a different time then, of course it was possibly possible. Not likely in these times but I stand corrected. I’ve felt things for you in the last two days, let along those six hours that I have never felt for anyone else ever. That scares the shit out of because it’s insane. It’s insane to think your life is fine then bam you meet someone, and they show you that your life was never fine it just was and they now make your life better. It’s insane but it doesn’t make it any less true. That is how I felt when I looked into your eyes in that alley and every hour since I’ve just--,” he paused. He knew he was rambling, he did it all the time when he was nervous or scared.

 “I—when I walked into that bar I was convinced that love was bullshit, it was some tragic thing there to make a fool of us and trick us into seeing what isn’t there. I was sure I’d never known it, and that I’d never be able to feel it. Now, here with you, I’m sure that I’ve never known it because—I’ve never felt this way before.”

 You crashed your lips to his and took charge of the kiss. As you kissed him you rolled onto him and quickly pushed off the pants he wore along with the shirt you wore and began the dance of lovers. The two of you rolled around the bed panting and moaning the names you’d used for each other the entire time. Once the bed became boring you came together on the floor perched against the mattress. Then again against the window with the backdrop of the winter wonderland of Boston behind you.

 By the time the two of you came up for air, it was once again night. Seeing him sleeping beside you made you smile. As you softly trailed your finger across his lip and down his chest pressing every curve and muscle to memory you got out the bed and quietly made your way to the living room where your purse was. You took it with you to the kitchen island, got a bottle of beer out the fridge and stared at your turned off phone. It had been almost three days. You knew the shit was hitting the fan and they were probably worried sick.

 At this very moment, you had no doubt there was a plan in place to either find you or carry on as scheduled. Your mother being the perfect socialite she was always kept the showing moving even when the wheels fell off. You were the wheels in this particular show. You being AWOL was a nuisance for her no doubt but in no way was it an impasse. After taking a heavy gulp of the beer you turned your phone back on and drank some more as it powered up.

 As soon as it got to your home screen it started going off with notification after notification. Quickly you grabbed it and turned the sound off and watched as message after message came in. You set the phone down and continued drinking. Five minutes later alerts were still coming in. After ten minutes all was still so you picked it up and saw over seventy messages, the same amount of texts and several emails. You groaned and finished the beer in one breath. Randomly you picked one of the voicemails to listen to. The sound of your father’s voice came on.

 “Princess, it’s dad. I’ve always played devil’s advocate with you, or should I say mother’s advocate. Right now, I don’t want to do that. Right now, I want to play dad. I know that the last few months have been a lot. I know it’s been hectic with work, the business, this impending merger and all that entails, and I know we haven’t had a lot of time to sit and talk and maybe that’s why you just picked up and ran. You probably felt alone. For that, I’m sorry, princess. I never want you to feel that way but running away is not the answer. You know that deep down. So, come on home. We all miss you and love you.”

 You sighed and closed your eyes and picked another message. This time your mother’s voice shrilled over the line.

 “Y/N, is this how you treat your mother? I carried you for nine months, spent twenty hours in labor, sacrificed so much for you, not including my breasts that will never be the same again. I have given you everything. This is how you repay me? Good lord, Y/N, you are behaving like a child. An impudent child. You cannot afford to behave this way. You have obligations, responsibilities. Things are expected of you, things have been laid out for you, planned and those things have to be upheld. Think of me, think of your father, think of the business and your standing in society. Get back here before this silly little rebellion costs you and everyone else a great deal. Do not embarrass me!”

 Dropping your head to the counter you groaned. While your head was down you tried to think about everything, the last two days included. It was a lot. You were quickly running out of time.

 “Hey fancy face.” you jumped and slammed your phone down onto the face in time to feel his arms wrap around you and his lips kiss your shoulder.

 “Hi.”

 “You okay?”

 “Yeah just, came for a beer,” you informed. His eyes landed on your phone.

 “And for a dose of reality.” You shrugged.

 “What can I say, I’m a sucker for torture.”

 “If that’s’ your thing I have some ideas on kink.” You smiled and turned to him and kissed him hoping to distract you both from the fancy android on the counter. He kissed you back and moaned on you, a moan you echoed.

 “Mmm, you’re naked.” His smile was wide.

 “So I am. Plan on taking advantage of it?” you smiled and kissed him once more.

 “Maybe, I’m gonna use the bathroom, but meet me in the bedroom in two minutes we should definitely talk about those kinky ideas you have.” He smiled again and you slinked around him hurrying to the bathroom.

 He smiled and walked to the fridge for a beer of his own. As he stood there and drank from it he rested his hand on the counter but knocked over your purse onto the floor. The contents spilled out before him. He bent down and retrieved each item he saw and marveled that you could hold so many things in one bag. Perfume, four different shades of lipstick, a mirror, mascara, hand sanitizer, tampons, painkillers, birth control, and a slender wallet. When his eyes saw the glint of a jewel to the left he peered around the island and underneath one of the stools his heart stopped at what he saw.

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

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[jbbarnesnnoble]

Looking Back

Summary: Steve remembers life before the ice. He embraces life after the ice, and the second chance given to him. 

Features: Angst; Fluff; Character death; Stucky if you squint; Tense changes in the 2nd half

Pairing: Steve Rogers/Reader

Notes: Inspired by the cards exchanged by my great-grandparents while they were dating in the 30s

Word Count: 1102

December 25, 1942

Steve smiled at the satiny card in his hand. He’d been with her for the past six years. She was a year below him when they were in school and the most beautiful girl he’d ever known. Their first date he’d taken her to a movie, using money he’d set aside for something special. Turned out that something special was her. He couldn’t believe she’d said yes. 

Six years on and they had been sending each other cards when they could. Bucky teased him about it. He had woken up before her, opening the card she set on his nightstand before he got up to make breakfast, a Christmas tradition. ‘I love you’ was written on the underside of the fold in the card in her handwriting, underlined with a heart. The faint scent of her perfume clung to the page. 

They had married in June of ‘39. A simple ceremony with just their closest friends and family. They couldn’t afford much. Steve looked over at her, smiling at his beautiful wife. He had a box of all the cards she had ever sent him. Valentine’s Day, Easter, anniversaries, birthdays, and Christmas, all of the cards went into the box. 

Steve wrote out his card as he finished making breakfast. ‘Merry Christmas, Sweetheart. You’re the nearest thing to heaven that I’ve ever known’ written as neat as he could manage. 

December 25, 2018

Steve looked at the box on his desk. His heart ached every time he thought about it. He knew what had happened after he went in the ice. You were still going strong at ninety-nine years old. He made a point of visiting you weekly. 

Two kids. A daughter and a son. Your eldest had been born in the fall of ‘43, a daughter named Sarah. Your son came along in July ‘45, born after he had gone on the ice. Steve had gotten two weeks to see you before that fateful fight. James Steven Rogers was the name you had decided on. The two of you had talked in letters about naming your son after Bucky. 

When he had come out of the ice, his first thought had been about you. You were living with Sarah then. Ninety-two years old and still insisting on doing everything yourself. You had cried when you got the news that Steve was alive. Your Steve. When you saw him, you had almost fainted. 

Steve had trouble adjusting to the idea that his kids were older than he was, that he had missed out on so much of their lives. He hadn’t told you, not at first. He had gone to visit Peggy. Peggy had scolded him, reminding him that he had the chance to know them now, to know his grandkids and great-grandkids. 

He looked at the box, taking out the card on top. The last card he’d given you before becoming Captain America. Christmas of ‘42. He wrote the same message in the card he had found when he’d been shopping for Christmas. Your care had been transferred to the compound, a room set up just for you. Your condition had been in steady decline. Steve had taken a leave of absence from the team. 

He slipped both cards in the pocket of his robe before heading to make breakfast. The tradition from the first years of your marriage had become a staple year in and year out since he’d come off the ice. The team wouldn’t join in until the afternoon. Steve knew when the family had shown up. Sarah had had two kids of her own, two daughters. The eldest was born in 1966, the youngest in 1968. James had had three kids, two sons and a daughter. His eldest son was born in 1970, his daughter in 1973, and the youngest born in 1976. 

The great-grandkids and great-great grand kids were the ones who had the most presents under the tree. The eldest of the great-grand kids was twenty-seven, the youngest just five. You and Steve had two great-great grand kids, one who was two and the other just three months. 

The compound was filled with laughter and conversation as the family arrived. Steve set about helping you get ready for the day. Your card was set down in front of your plate at the table. Your eyes shone with tears as you saw the Christmas card from 1942. 

“Oh, Steve,” you said softly. You opened the new card, seeing the same familiar scrawl with the words you had memorized.

You both knew your time together was coming to an end. You felt grateful to have had anymore time with him at all. 

Later that night, he laid beside you, holding your hand. You couldn’t help but remember your first date each time he took your hand in his. 

“You did good, sweetheart. Raising our kids on your own. Taking care of our grandkids. You’re one of the strongest women I know,” he said. You laughed.

“Peggy helped. Your Commandos too,” you said. The two of you laid in silence for a while before you spoke.

“Steven...you and I both know, I’m not going to live forever. Time robbed us of so much. But I need you to promise me something,” you said. 

“Anything,” he said. 

“Don’t be afraid to fall in love again. We’re quite a strange situation, you and I. Don’t focus on what you didn’t get to have. Focus on what you now have a chance to have,” you said. 

“Sweetheart,” he said, his voice cracking. You squeezed his hand.

“The kids will understand, darling. They want you to be happy too. Love isn’t finite, Steven,” you said.

“You never moved on,” he said. You shook your head.

“I was happy with what I had. No one could match you in my heart, Steve. No one,” you said. 

You slipped away quietly in the night. Steve was alerted by FRIDAY when your vitals had started to drop, as had the medical staff. 

Bucky stood with him at the funeral, just after the new year. It was Bucky who made sure he ate, that he didn’t overwork himself in his grief. When Christmas rolled around again, Bucky refused to let him push people away. 

And so, Christmas morning, Bucky made breakfast. A simple card sat by Steve’s plate. A simple ‘Merry Christmas, punk’ written in Bucky’s handwriting. Steve smiled at him, just shaking his head at his oldest friend. Surrounded by family, Steve felt at peace, even with a piece of his heart missing, an ache that would never quite go away.

[cravingcrazewriting]

Older And Wiser (but not really)

Trigger Warning- VERY small mention of desire to end one's own life. Plus transgender Evan because I love him

Thanksgiving was always a roll of the dice for Evan.

Some Thanksgivings he got to spend with his mom. Others he spent with Jared and his family. When they were both gone, Heidi would celebrate the next day when she was off.

Ironically though, both of these situations were going underway, leaving Evan alone for Thanksgiving. Although it hurt to be alone, he knew it wasn't really anyone's fault. Thanksgiving was a time for family and friends, so naturally people had to leave to go see other relatives out of state (Alana was going with her dad's to visit her grandparents, if he wasn't mistaken).

The only person that was still around was Connor, who's family hosted hosted a big Thanksgiving meal. Evan thought it was sweet since it was usually just him and his mom. It wasn't that they didn't have any family, but rather working as a nurse and the unforeseeable weather that almost always brought about a snow storm, so it was nearly impossible to see relatives until Hanukkah.

Evan pulled out an box that had differently colored leafs scattered across the wrapping he had dressed around it. He decided against putting a bow on it and went to set it out on the table. It was a gift for Connor, for a Thanksgiving gift exchange. It was something he and Heidi always did, so Evan decided to let Connor join in on the fun.

He'd saved some money from doing work with the neighbors, part of it for his top surgery, and the other half for holiday shopping. The tasks they asked were simple, such as vacuuming, dusting, or cleaning (in the fall, he mowed lawns).

He'd already had made a grilled cheese sandwich for lunch, since pretty much everything was closed for the holiday, he couldn't order out. Currently his binder was off and in his room, as he'd already worn it for eight hours, and needed to remove it. It was god awful, but wearing it for too long could fracture his ribs, and he did not want to be responsible for a hospital bill. Still, an oversized shirt he stole from Connor helped out a little bit with how unsettled he felt.

He gently set the box down on the dining table, and went to make a box of Mac and Cheese, as he was okay with spoiling himself just a little bit for the holiday. While he was filling up a pot with water, his phone vibrated. Evan pulled out his phone to read it.

Connor <3: Dinner just finished up. Can I go to your place? Don't think I can stay another minute at home

Evan: Sure! We can share Mac and Cheese!

Although he was trying to hold back enthusiasm, he was really happy that Connor was coming. He'd spent a lot of lonely days with Connor either cuddling, talking, making jokes, watching random shit on Netflix, or a mix of all of that (with a fair share of kisses, as well).

Evan made sure to keep an eye on the time as the water boiled, practically checking his phone almost every thirty seconds, not wanting to keep Connor waiting outside very long.

Ultimately the doorbell rang later, which made Evan practically run to the door and swung it open from being in a rush. It could've been worse. At least he didn't accidentally dent the wall.

Outside, Connor was holding an envelope and a box wrapped in plain orange wrapping paper. Underneath was some food in long, plastic and portable boxes, with a bottle that looked like alcohol. He was wearing his jacket and trench coat, ripped jeans, and black thin looking gloves. He was smiling at how fast Evan answered the door.

"Please tell me you— you didn't bring alcohol," Evan held the door open, watching Connor step inside and set his things down on the coffee table.

"You have no faith in me?" He asked innocently, picking up what revealed to be sparkling grape juice.

Evan snorted, "Okay, faith restored. Er, did you want me to... t-take your coat?"

Connor shrugged off the trench coat with ease. "Nah, you're just gonna steal it later," he teased him, before looking at the kitchen. "Besides, I know where to put it. It looks like you've got something cooking."

"I need to stir my Mac and Cheese!" Evan fretted, running into the kitchen, leaving behind a laughing Connor.

He gave the pot a quirk stir, watching a few remains of butter slip around inside. He set the wooden spoon down, and felt a pair of arms wrap around his upper chest and a chin rest itself on his head.

"Um. Can you m-move your arms?" Evan grabbed his forearms gently, and pulled them down.

"Hmm? Oh yeah, sorry," Connor realized his binder was off in that moment, so he slid his arms down to his waist to hold him there loosely and gently. He dropped his head to Evan's shoulder. "That looks good."

"It's just cheese and noodles," Evan giggled, rolling his eyes.

"They're good cheesy noodles," he muttered begrudgingly, nestling his face into the crook of Evan's neck.

The two stayed like that, happily finishing up the Mac and Cheese, before putting them into bowls, and piled onto the couch to eat. Evan had to resist the urge to climb onto Connor's lap, tackle him on the couch, or anything because they were just starting to eat, and he had to have a little self control. So, he settled Connor's legs on his lap as they began to talk about everything and nothing.

"My big shot cousin was there, making a big deal about his business, and how much money he was making, which lead to the 'You see Connor, you can be like your cousin Jack over there' talk with Larry. He isn't thrilled about the fact I'm getting a tattoo," Connor explained in between bites.

Evan was eating a little slow, as he didn't want to eat too fast. "Um— what tattoo did you w-wanna get?"

"A semi colon on my wrist," Connor gestured to his right wrist. "It means that at one point I wanted to end my life, but I kept going."

Evan couldn't help but smile. "You're so strong."

"You are too," Connor punched his arm lightly, in a playful manner. "You've been on testosterone for like— a year now, you're binding, hell, it must've been hard coming out to your mom."

He laughed lightly. "Well, I'd ask to go to the men's clothing in the mall, and if she'd ask why, I'd just say 'oh, their jeans actually have pockets'. Then she'd laugh and let me go, but I think she saw through that."

Connor snorted, "I think I love you even more just from that. Anyways, you want some turkey sandwiches? I brought like, four."

"Um, yes, because it wouldn't be Thanksgiving without a turkey," he grinned, opening up the container and pulled one out.

Connor opened the sparkling grape juice, and poured it into the cups Evan had grabbed. "And pretending we can drink by using special cups and bottles."

Evan took his cup once he was done. "It makes me feel fancy," he said with a laugh, before taking a sip.

"When's your mom getting home?" Connor opened another container that contained biscuits and a few pieces of apple pie.

"Late tonight. We're celebrating tomorrow, didn't I tell you that?" Evan grabbed a biscuit.

"Well you did, and today I realized you were all by yourself. Didn't want to deal with my uptight relatives, and didn't want you being all lonely. It's a win-win," the latter shrugged. "Anyways, when'd you wanna open your present?"

"After we're done eating," Evan swallowed. "This stuff you brought is too good."

The two young boys continued to eat and chat away happy, and at one point, Evan had grabbed Connor's trench coat, and had it draped around his shoulders happy. Connor snuck a few photos of him with the oversized coat on as payback.

"Okay, open it," Evan set Connor's gift in his lap, excited for the other,

"I get to go first?" Connor began taking off the wrapping. "Isn't this your tradition? And your house?"

"Well you're the guest, so you go first," Evan responded, smiling.

With the wrapping off, Connor carefully undid the box lid and looked inside. Within the box was a purple beanie, a sketchbook, and some colored pencils.

"Ev... this is so sweet," Connor gushed, and gave him a big kiss on the cheek. "Thank you..." He was blushing slightly.

Evan was red from the small sign of affection. "Oh um, it wasn't a problem." He replied, watching as Connor set a box on his lap next.

Being very delicate, he removed the wrapping paper, and looked at what was inside. There was a dark green sweater, a scented candle that smelt like candy canes, and a rather adorable looking T-Rex plushie.

Evan set the box beside him, and was about to thank him, when Connor held his hand out, and handed him the envelope.

"Read it first," he'd said ever so softly.

Evan couldn't help but oblige, curious as to what it was Connor obviously wanted him to see. He peeled open the lid as neatly as he could (which wasn't that neat) and pulled out a card.

Connor had drawn a cartoon turkey on the front, with the words "Happy Turkey Day to not just my boyfriend, but to my best friend". When he opened to the inside, there was a small stack of money and a large margin on the left side. "Evan, I know you've been working really hard on getting money for your top surgery, but with Hanukkah coming up, I thought you'd need a little boost. I love you, and I hope it helps.- Connor". The stack had fifty dollars, which was held in place with a rubber band.

"I know you wanted to do this by yourself, but you've... you've done a lot for me, and you deserve this," Connor twisted his ring, and smiled.

"It's just enough! Thank you!" Evan enthusiastically threw his arms around him, holding him close.

Connor chuckled, hugging him back. "You're welcome, Ev.."

And when Heidi saw Evan the next time, well, it was the happiest he'd ever been.

[ronniesshoes]

Keep Yourself Alive

Previous

Buckets and buckets of thanks to @righteous-room-people for proofreading, you’re wonderful! 

As John steps off at St. Pancras, his phone rings. It’s on silent, as usual, and in between the bustle of passengers and the announcements over the speakers, he wouldn’t have heard it anyway. As it happens, he puts his hand in his coat pocket to retrieve his gloves, and his phone starts vibrating. When he sees Freddie’s name on the screen, he almost stops short, a flush of happiness creeping up his neck.

“Hi,” he says, letting the crowd lead him away from the platforms.

“Off the train yet?” Freddie asks. He sounds impatient. John can’t help but smile.

“I just stepped off,” he says, “are you home?”

They’ve been texting back and forth for the better part of the ride, never mind during the stay at his mum’s, and John’s itching to see him. He’s not worried that Freddie has changed his mind, but now that he’s dipped his toes (or tongue, rather) into this wonderful new thing, he’s eager to try again.

“No,” Freddie says. John can’t quite decipher his tone of voice, but he thinks he can imagine what he looks like: mouth pulled into a wicked smile, a glint in his dark eyes. He waits. “I can see you.”

John’s first instinct is to look up. Heart speeding, he scans the upper level, half expecting to see him sitting at one of the little tables in front of a café, even though he knows Freddie would hate that. He licks his dry lips, distractedly noting that they’re starting to chap. “Where are you?”

“Why don’t you find me?” Freddie asks lightly.

“Freddie, it’s packed in here.” He looks around as he weaves through the crowds. “At least give me a hint. Am I getting hot?”

“Very,” Freddie says, and John can hear the grin in his voice. “Especially when you smile.”

John feels said smile morph into a grimace and rolls his eyes instead. “Freddie, just tell—hello?”

He looks at his blank screen and swears. Pocketing his phone, he continues towards the exit. If Freddie was able to see him, he must be nearby, and the logical thing will be to meet at the exit. He might have spent four days in bloody Oadby, but he’s lived in London long enough to know that you do not, under any circumstances, pause in the middle of a busy station unless you desire to be cursed all the way into next year.

John reaches the exit and steps off to the side, eyes scanning over the stores and restaurants and people, until—

He spots him a moment before Freddie sees him. He’s clearly attempting nonchalance, smartly dressed and leaning against a column, but he’s gazing around anxiously, and he’s twisting his fingers in his scarf.

John takes him in for a moment, suddenly nervous though he does not know why. Then Freddie sees him, too, and his whole face lights up, and before he can stop himself, John’s pushing through the mass of people separating them, eager to find him before he disappears again. When he arrives at the spot, Freddie is nowhere to be seen; John spins on his heel, eyes scanning the crowd for teeth and raven locks, hopelessly wandering at random.

Someone knocks him over then, but the flash of annoyance is stifled by that well known scent of citrus and spice a split second before he’s pulled into a hug by surprisingly strong arms, and then Freddie laughs, teeth flashing, and John drops his heavy luggage to wrap his arms around him, not caring that they’re in the middle of the station and most certainly in the way.

“I missed you,” he murmurs into Freddie’s scarf, lingering for a moment before pulling back to look at him.

“Really?” Freddie grins.

John rolls his eyes fondly. “Of course. This is the longest I’ve been away from you since we moved in. I’m bound to.” He picks up his bag. “But to be fair, I also miss the others.”

Freddie knocks their shoulders together. “How you can think of anyone else is beyond me.”

John smiles and doesn’t think he needs to lie.

♛ ♛ ♛

On the Tube, John ends up four seats across from Freddie, next to a girl with pink hair; thus preventing conversation. There's a couple two seats away from him who are talking way too loudly, and he reaches for his earphones before remembering that his phone is out of battery. Freddie is picking lint off his jacket, upper lip coming down to cover his teeth. The smile he gives John is quick and startling when he looks up, and John's eyes dart to his own reflection in the window opposite of him on their own accord.

The bloke next to Freddie gets off at Westbourne Park, and John grabs his weekend bag and abandons his seat and the pink haired girl. Freddie puts his head on his shoulder which can't be comfortable, confirmed seconds later when Freddie lets his head roll back and complains, "bony."

John's not sure what to say to that and settles for an apologetic shrug.

As they reach their stop, Freddie slings the weekend bag over his shoulder and stands, almost staggering under its weight. "Robbed the cathedral, did you?"

John laughs and follows him off the Tube. "The cathedral is in Leicester, not Oadby, for one. Secondly, there are far more interesting places to rob."

Freddie doesn't look convinced.

It's already darkening when they step outside, and Freddie's glove-covered hand slips into John's own. John is telling him about a particularly draining visit from his grandparents, and Freddie is looking at him in a way that makes him slightly uneasy.

He pauses. "What?"

“Your dialect always shows when you’ve been home,” Freddie says, grinning delightedly when John’s mouth snaps closed. “Same with Roger.”

John grimaces. “Roger sounds so posh it drives me mad.”

Freddie tries in vain to suppress a laugh.

“I’m serious,” John says, “I have to avoid him the first few days every time or else I’ll make fun of him.”

"You're sweet," Freddie says, covering his teeth.

"I could kill him."

"I know."

A sudden gust of wind picks up an empty McDonald's bag, sending it into the road. John counts seven breaths before Freddie speaks again.

"Did you really miss me?"

John exhales silently and squeezes his hand. "Every day."

Freddie squeezes back. "Good."

Brian is sitting by the dinner table with a book and a cup of tea when they enter the living room. He smiles and puts his cup down so quickly the tea spills over. "Welcome back, John, Freddie. You disappeared quickly."

John picks up the dishcloth by the sink and throws it to him.

"Picked this one up at the station," Freddie explains, apparently having been home first. "Is there enough on the kettle?"

"Think so," John says before Brian can answer, and opens the cupboard.

"Are you hungry?" Brian asks, "it's almost time for dinner."

"For Christmas dinner?" Freddie says, throwing himself on the couch, "always!"

"Lovely," Brian says, the legs of his chair scraping against the floor, "love some help if you're offering."

"Mhm, don't think so."

John snorts and pours water over his tea. He directs Brian to the leftovers from his Christmas dinner and shoves Freddie's feet off the coffee table to get to his favourite corner on the couch.

He's barely put down his cup before Freddie steals it, and John sighs and doesn't feel bad for him when he complains about a burnt tongue, but he does allow Freddie to lie down with his head in John's lap.  

"When's dinner ready?"

"There's quite a bit of food, Fred," Brian says, scraping cranberry sauce into a bowl.

“Then hurry up,” Freddie says, “you got your presents and Christmas dinners two days ago, I haven’t had any yet!”

“You could lay the table,” Brian suggests.

“Absolutely not,” Freddie says, “while you’ve been stuffing your mouths I’ve been slaving away at home. It's my turn now.”

John shares a look with Brian, fingers carding through Freddie’s hair.

“I need to talk to your mum, then,” Brian says wryly, “I want to know how she gets you to do housework.”

Freddie lazily flips him off.

“Alright, I think we’re about done now,” Brian says a moment later, “no thanks to you two.”

“Finally!” Freddie says, loud and dramatic. He heaves himself up from the couch. “I’ll fetch our lovely drummer. Don’t start without me!”

“So did you have a good Christmas?” John asks, getting up to help Brian with the last bits.

“Dad’s got bronchitis, so hearing him cough his lungs up over Christmas dinner sort of put a damper on it,” Brian says, handing him a steaming dish, “otherwise it was fine. How’s life in Leicester?”

“The usual. Julie spent all Christmas day reading Nietzsche,” John says with a pained look directed at Brian, “I had my grandparents’ undivided attention.”

Brian laughs.

“Are we ready to eat?” Freddie’s short of shouting, marching into the room with a slightly more subdued Roger in tow.

“Alright, John?” Roger greets, and John accepts an awkward hug from him, hands still occupied with the dish.

"Sit down, you two," Freddie says, plate is already piled high with food.

“Do help yourself, Fred,” Brian smiles, pouring himself a glass of water.

Freddie stabs his fork through a roast potato. “Thanks, dear. God,” he says, mouth full, “I love all of your mums.”

♛ ♛ ♛

All 12 presents plus one are stuffed under the tiny Christmas tree, a small abundance of glitter and colourful wrapping paper. The lower half of the tree is bare—Ziggy keeps knocking the baubles down, and almost knocked over the whole tree if not for Brian’s quick reflexes—but the rest is so covered in glitter and tinsel it looks like they’re trying to summon the ghost of David Bowie, two days late for Christmas.

Brian and Roger have not spoken to one another for the entirety of dinner, save for a painful “can you pass me the gravy, please?”, and John’s getting just a tad fed up with them. He doesn’t know what’s happened, and doesn’t really care anyway, but cannot for the life of him understand why they keep getting worked up over all these useless things.

Table cleared, they all retreat to the living room. Freddie is practically bouncing, and Roger has brightened considerably, too. Being the youngest, John gets to pick out the first present, and chooses a positively elegant present wrapped in sleek, dark blue paper and silver ribbon. The small note on it has John passing it along to Brian.

John settles back against the back of the armchair with his cup of tea and his carefully picked out Quality Streets, watching with interest as Brian carefully, as not to tear the paper, opens up the present.

Inside is a cup with the periodic system on it, and inside the cup are small trinkets like a space shuttle coin for Red Special and a Saturn pendant.

John has often wondered if Brian doesn't like receiving gifts, his thank yous almost always too profuse, his eyes blinking comically. It makes John feel awkward, but Freddie appears unbothered, and accepts Brian's too tight hug with a smile and all the grace in the world.

The gift is passed around while Brian picks out the next present, and John looks at Freddie pointing with his little finger to the coin in Roger's palm.

“Oh,” Brian says, and John startles at the sound of his voice, “this one’s also for me.”

Freddie looks up. “You can’t pick another,” he says, “that’s the rule.”

"But—"

"Are you trying to ruin Christmas?"

"No, I—"

"Then whatever are you waiting for, dear?"

Brian lets out an annoyed sigh, and John returns Freddie's grin with an amused smile.

John’s present is opened just as slowly and meticulously as the first. When a surprised smile spreads across his lips, John knows he’s made a good choice.

“A vegan cookbook,” Brian says, showing the cover to the other two before carefully turning the first few pages. He looks up at John, a slightly odd look on his face, almost sort of vulnerable. “Thank you.”

“I chose one that’s not only recipes, this one also talks about the vegan lifestyle,” John explains when he's released from the obligatory hug, “I thought that might interest you. It looks pretty good.”

"It does," Brian agrees, and there's a glow about him that makes John feel weird because it's strange to see Brian happy. "Really, thank you. I can't wait to try it out."

The next present is for Freddie, and even if John hadn't been right next to Roger while it was wrapped, he could've easily guessed the giver from the way Roger's leaning forward and looking a bit like he's about to burst with excitement. It's actually two presents, held together by three different kinds of garish ribbon and too much tape judging by the way Freddie is struggling to tear it open.

John sees a flash of pale green when the torn paper is thrown aside but can't be sure what it is from his angle, but Freddie's is gasping and pulling Roger in for a hug and covering his face with loud kisses. Brian leans over to grab the abandoned present, holding it up so John can see it's a sushi kit in pale green with some kind of fruit tree in bloom, the dark branches stretching along the plates and ending in tiny dots of white flowers.

"You always talk about making your own sushi," Roger says when he's eventually released, "so now I expect you to make it at least once a week, you know."

"Darling, this is as gorgeous as your pretty face," Freddie says, pressing a final kiss to his cheek. "Where on Earth did you find this?"

"Went thrift-shopping," Roger says, looking extra-ordinarily pleased with himself. "Not telling you where."

"Oh, it's lovely. Absolutely stunning. Brian, look at this. Is there a recipe for vegan sushi in your cookbook?"

"Open the second one," Roger says before Brian has time to reply, pushing it closer to Freddie with a sock clad foot. "You'll love it, I know you will."

The second present is in the shape of a cylinder and turns out to be an umbrella; plain at first, but when Roger, despite Freddie's warnings of bad luck, opens it, it's emblazoned with a charming 2 glam 2 give a damn. John can't help but laugh at Freddie's delighted squeal, and Brian is looking like he judges them all.

Freddie then crawls towards the tree and picks out a small present which he passes along to John. From Brian, the tag reads, and John carefully slides a nail underneath the tape to open it.

He recognises the cover immediately. His heart beats a little faster, and into his lap falls Tree and Leaf, the last Tolkien book to complete his collection.

"How long have you been holding onto this?" he asks disbelievingly, turning the book in his hands. It's his favourite edition, too, this one more aesthetically pleasing than the one with the red background.

Brian laughs. "A few months. Happy?"

John smiles. "Very. Thank you."

They share a hug, and John cheats and picks out his own present, a long, cylinder shaped one, wrapped as neatly as he could and with Freddie's name written on it in glitter glue. It doesn't entirely fit the aesthetic of the gift inside, but Freddie doesn't appear to mind too much. John watches him carefully, the way his lip comes down to cover his front teeth as he removes the lid from the poster tube, the way he looks like he's trying hard to keep his face neutral, his eyes going wide and a brilliant smile stretching his face as he unrolls the thick paper.

John doesn't have time to prepare himself before Freddie is throwing himself at him, crushing him so close to his body that John's struggling to breathe, and John is so in love it's painful.

"Thank you, thank you," Freddie's saying between kisses to his cheek, so burning hot it's embarrassing, and he wishes the other two would bugger off. Freddie releases him, unrolls it properly this time, and shows off the George Barbier print John managed to get off eBay, looking at it with so much adoration John almost feels jealous. "Oh, they're wonderful."

"Nice tits," Roger says, craning his neck to get a better look at the two naked women gazing at each other with adoration, one dark skinned, the other one pale.

Brian rolls his eyes so hard it almost makes a sound, and John nudges Freddie towards the remaining gifts, keen to avoid an argument.

"Let's see if we can find something for you, Roger, dear," Freddie says, very much breaking their rule, but no one protests. He passes a neat but simple present along to Roger, and from the way Roger hesitates as he reads the tag and Brian looks uncomfortable, it doesn't take a genius to figure out who it's from.

The silence stretches on, heavy and tense, and John wants to kick them both. Or smack their heads together.

He can't look at it.

"Gotta use the loo," he mumbles, feeling guilty for leaving Freddie, but physically unable to stay a second longer. He'd much rather go to his room, really, but he thinks he can at least pretend he's not leaving because of them.

He locks the door and sits down on the closed toilet lid, elbows on his knees and head in his hands. He thinks of how much his grandparents exhaust him, how much space they insist on taking up with their nagging and their demands, how Julie's lack of interest in the whole thing makes him go mad, how his mum tries her best, and how it's never as clear that someone is missing as it is on Christmas.

He can deal with all that. It's one day, and there's food and there's presents and he doesn't have to think about work or school, and grandparents aside it's nice to see mum and Julie. He's used to it, has learnt not to expect anything of Christmas. But this he'd looked forward to, eating and exchanging gifts with his favourite people in the whole world, and now Brian and Roger are ruining it, not only for him, but for Freddie, too, and it makes John feel exhausted to the bone, the same way he feels when he's dealt with customers for an entire eight hours, only this is worse because it doesn't stop when everyone goes home.

He drags himself to his feet and shares a look with his reflection. It looks about as done as he feels.

They all look at him when he enters, but judging by the the torn wrapping paper and a blue box John can't quite make out what to be, they seem to be done. He sits down, and Roger catches his eye and nudges a thin, rectangular gift closer to him with a tentative smile.

It's Freddie's, he guesses from the lack of glitter glue and paper penises wearing Christmas hats, and his curiosity makes him forget about Roger and Brian. It's too light and thin to be a book, and he thinks it might be something framed, but he can't for the life of him guess what it might be.

"I think you'll like the inside better, darling," Freddie says, and John stops trying to guess its contents and unwraps it instead.

It's a stunning watercolour, the colours reminding him of those of Tolkien's Rivendell, decipiting a landscape John has only ever seen in his mind's eye; a circle of white barked, naked trees, and in the middle a great flet with a roof of golden leaves, the sun filtering through to kiss the star-shaped flowers on the ground.

He looks up at Freddie, disbelieving and lost for words.

Freddie tilts his head and smiles. "Do you like it?"

"Is this ...?"

"It's supposed to be Cerin Amroth. Is that how you pronounce it? It sounded so lovely when you read to me, and you've mentioned that the parts about the elves are your favourites."

"This is unbelievable," John says, his voice an embarrassing croak, "this is what it looks like in my head."

"Can I see?" Brian asks, and John wordlessly hands it to him. Roger moves to Brian's side to look at it, too, and John is too dazed to feel relieved that they're not actively avoiding one another anymore.

"You're insane," John mumbles, letting Freddie wrap his arms around him, "this is stupid. No one should be this good." He groans, burying his face in Freddie's shoulder and feeling his laugh reverberate through his body. "I can't believe this! Did you honestly make it yourself?"

"I can show you the sketch if you'd like," Freddie says, voice coloured with amusement.

"No," John says, turning his head so he can breathe, "I don't want to know. You're awful, you know. Can't believe you made this for me."

Freddie laughs quietly, arms tightening around him, and John's glad, because he's having trouble wrapping his head around the fact that he's not dreaming.

Something small and hard hits him in the head, and he's startled out of Freddie's embrace. A purple Quality Street lies next to him on the floor, and Roger is looking at him impatiently.

"If you could stop creaming yourself over Freddie’s mediocre at best gift for half a second, it's your turn to choose."

♛ ♛ ♛

John's lips are nearly touching the rim of his steaming cup of tea when a loud sneeze startles him.

"Fuck," he swears, the scalding liquid spilling down his hands and the front of his shirt. The cup falls to the floor with a clunk, and Roger is quick to move the gifts out of the way.

"Sorry," Brian says, small under John's glare, and John has to take a second to remind himself that Brian can't help it, that he's not doing it on purpose. It doesn't work very well.

"Here you go, love, off with the shirt," Freddie says, handing him a tea towel wetted with cold water. "Brian, dear, should you perhaps go to bed? You're clearly not well."

Brian sneezes again. "I'm fine."

"You're pale as chalk and you're scaring poor Deaky with your sneezing. You can't stand honey, and yet you continue to sneak off for a spoonful every time you make tea. The concert is in four days and you'll be very sorry if you come down with something because you're too stubborn to rest."

John presses the tea towel to the tender skin on his chest, watching as Brian's face shifts through an array of emotions, eventually settling on resignation. Roger drops a dry shirt into John’s lap, and John shoots him a quick smile.

“You know I can and will annoy you into submission,” Freddie says, helping Brian to his feet and shooing him away, “now, off with you, dearie.”

Brian grumbles but lets himself be ushered into his room. A small miracle, really.

John gets up and starts collecting the wrapping paper, careful to fold the least torn sheets and put them away in the bureau drawer. The rest he throws away. His socks, abandoned on the floor in favour of his new Yellow Submarine ones from Roger, he picks up and throws in his room, sighing when Ziggy almost falls over in its haste to chase them.

“Fred?” Roger says from where he’s sprawled out on the couch, “chuck a pillow over here?”

John finds the dishpan underneath the sink and lets the water run hot. Brian seems to have cleaned the kitchen before he left, and John would like to keep it that way. He collects their plates and cutlery from the dining table, packs up the last leftovers, and is scrubbing at a particularly stubborn stain when arms slide around his waist from behind and lips tease at the corner of his jaw.

“If you’re bored, you can help me,” John says, placing the plate on the dish rack and reaching for another one.

John shivers when Freddie exhales against his neck. “If I do, will you teach me how to make hot chocolate?”

“You and Roger could do the dishes once in a while, you know.”

Freddie removes his hands and reaches for a dish towel. “I don’t know how to clean the glasses properly,” he complains, picking up a jug, “they look clean when I place them on the dish rack, but they’re always greasy when I put them back.”

“I noticed,” John says, silently amused. Frankly, it’s disgusting, and quite embarrassing when they have people over, so John makes a point of putting them back for another cleaning if he finds a dirty glass. It’s more work, but it lowers the risk of a various illnesses John can do without.

“Requires a magic touch, I reckon,” Freddie says lightly, accepting the last mug from John.

“You do?” John asks, drying his hands and leaning back against the worktop to idly watch Freddie.

“Of course,” Freddie says, “that’s why I want you to teach me how to make hot chocolate.”

John grins. “But not the dishes?”

“I’m doing them now!”

He reaches for Freddie as he puts a plate down. “Let the rest air-dry?”

Freddie lets himself be pulled close. With a glance at Roger’s seemingly sleeping form, John chances a kiss to the corner of Freddie’s mouth. The achingly gentle smile he gets in return makes something warm pool in his stomach.

“Aren’t you daring,” Freddie laughs. John’s thumb slips on the hem of his trousers and touches warm skin.

“Missed you,” he says.

Freddie smooths the hair away from his face. “Me too.”

John thinks he could too easily get used to this. He smiles at Freddie and hoists himself up on the worktop. He pulls the cabinet door behind him open and takes out two mugs.

“You don’t think Brian wants a cup?” Freddie asks, smile slow and fond.

“I know he doesn’t.”

“Right,” Freddie says, looking serious suddenly. “What do I need?”

“A saucepan, milk, sugar, and cocoa.”

Freddie opens three drawers before finding the one containing the pots and pans. “Will this do?”

“It’s not a saucepan,” John says mildly. “But you can try.”

Freddie cocks the pot. “Will it ruin it?”

“No, it’s fine,” John says with a smile. “Now, fill up the mugs with milk and pour it into the pot. The heat shouldn’t be too high while you add sugar and cocoa. Six spoonfuls of each.”

“Tea- or tablespoon?” Freddie asks, adding milk without spilling a drop.

“Tablespoon.”

“That’s a lot of sugar,” Freddie opines. “Now what?”

“Now you turn up the heat and continue to stir it until it boils.”

“This is a lot of work,” Freddie says, stirring the hot chocolate in a complicated pattern.

John hides a smile.

They retreat to John’s bedroom not long after with large mugs of hot chocolate. It smells rich and sugary sweet, and Freddie looks delighted and proud when he hands John his mug. They lounge on the bed and watch Mamma Mia on his, and John doesn’t think Freddie’s suffering too much under it, the way he’s leaning against John’s chest, situated between his legs.

He's even singing along, and though it's not as enthusiastic as one could've hoped, John appreciates the effort nonetheless.

“I think they’ve just finished filming the sequel.” John says as the end credits starts to roll. “I honestly don’t know what to think of it. The whole thing with Cher, I don’t see what she’s doing in it. Besides, they just mentioned that Donna’s mum is dead.”

Freddie pauses in playing with John's fingers. “Cher’s in it?”

“Apparently.”

"Weird," Freddie says and twists out of John's loose embrace to place himself delicately on his lap. Suddenly he's very close. “Hi."

John’s heart beats a little faster.

“Hi.” He takes Freddie’s hand into his, studies the elegant fingers to avoid his gaze. The scent of spice and citrus, so unequivocally Freddie, seems to wrap around him.

"Can't believe how lovely you are," Freddie's murmuring, voice soft and sending a pleasant shiver down John's spine. He looks up from their entwined fingers and is pulled into the dark depths of Freddie's eyes. There's a soft smile on his lips, one John is aching to kiss and kiss until it consumes him, and there's Freddie's hand resting heavily on his thigh, long fingers coming up to play with and thread through his hair, and John has to close his eyes and pause to compose himself.

Freddie leans into his personal space, and John's lips part to welcome a warm mouth against his own. Freddie's fingers tighten ever so slightly in his hair, and the hand on his thigh comes up to cup his jaw. Their tongues bump and slide together, slow and sensual and John's feeling good, feeling warm and safe and just where he wants to be. There's a curl of arousal in his stomach, a small knot of want, and he stiffens just long enough for Freddie to pull away, away, when the only thing John wants is to fuse their mouths together and stay close forever.

Freddie looks at him searchingly. The light from the bedside lamp makes his lips glisten.

"What's wrong?" Freddie says and shifts back, his tailbone digging painfully into the muscle of John's thigh.

John swears and catches the drop of Freddie's gaze before it snaps away, guilty.

Freddie carefully removes himself from John's lap. Clears his throat.

John fights down the urge to fidget.

The bed creaks. "Should we talk about this?"

“There’s nothing to talk about,” John snaps, annoyed and a little embarrassed.

"Right."

John looks at Roger's discarded boxers on the floor. He doesn't recognise them so they must be new, and he thinks Christmas is an odd time to shop for underwear.

"I'm sorry," he says.

Freddie glances at him, teeth worrying his bottom lip. His voice is soft when he speaks. "I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

"You don't." He doesn't, he doesn't.

Freddie looks at him helplessly.

John doesn't want to talk about it, knows it will result in nothing but difficult questions that he might not know the answer to.

He startles when Freddie touches his hand. "Come lie down."

John wordlessly complies, and they fit themselves on the bed like cutlery.

"What are you afraid of?" Freddie's breath tickles the back of his neck.

John thinks about it. The textured wallpaper is a welcome distraction from Freddie's face. "I don't know what you expect of me. It's annoying, this, you know, that I get turned on sometimes, but it doesn't mean anything. I don't want it to mean anything."

"I can understand that," Freddie says. His arm is a warm weight around John's waist. "I don't expect anything of you. Except I hope you'll tell me if I cross a line."

"Well. You haven't so far."

Freddie presses a kiss to the back of his neck, and John turns around so they're facing each other. "Good."

"You'd tell me too, right?" John asks, "if you feel uncomfortable."

"I will," Freddie says, and John feels the corners of his mouth turn up in relief.

Freddie mirrors his smile, and they look each other in the eye until it feels weird.

"Did you like your present?" Freddie says, lifting his hand to thumb at his jaw.

"I love it," John says, briefly closing his eyes, "I can't believe you made that."

"There's one more present," Freddie says, eyes drowsy.

"Oh?"

"I'll show you soon."

"Intrigued," he smiles.

"Should be," Freddie says, removing his hand to cover a yawn before it settles on John's hip. "I can't believe Christmas is over," he says after a moment, "December's been endless, but now it seems way too soon for it all to be over."

"Hm," John says, burying his nose in Freddie's neck.

A lock of hair tickles his cheek, and Freddie's hands are tight around his middle. John can't remember what life was like before this very moment, and he doesn't much care.

♛ ♛ ♛

John has been at work for less than three hours when he feels ready to go home.

He's taking down the last Christmas decorations, five of which are on the floor in pieces due to careless customers, when Veronica's voice, pathetically high-pitched, sounds from behind the counter. “Shit, I’ve lost my keys!”

John rolls his eyes and folds up a cardboard box.

“John?” Veronica calls, “have you seen my keys?”

With a frustrated sigh, John straightens and walks over to take over behind the counter.

“You’re pathetic,” he says, watching as she hands over the receipt with a pleasant smile. “Five minutes. Then I’m leaving.”

“You’re a star,” Veronica whispers, short of running towards the backroom.

John follows her with his eyes, then turns an unenthusiastic smile to the next customer in line, a boy his age and presumably the cause of Veronica’s flight.

“How are you?”

♛ ♛ ♛

“I hate being on till,” John grumbles as they leave the warm store, declining the offer of a cigarette with a shake of his head. “I’m not getting paid to do your job at your slightest inconvenience.”

Veronica snorts softly. “It was two minutes,” she says, pocketing her lighter and taking a drag of her smoke. “And I’m buying you coffee, aren’t I?”

“He was an arse,” John opines, “didn’t say anything, didn’t even smile.”

“Maybe if you’d been more enthusiastic in your greeting,” Veronica suggests with a grin.

John kicks a pebble. “I’m not getting—”

“Paid for it, I know. But you’re nice enough when customers approach you on the floor.”

“You must’ve imagined it.”

“You’re very grumpy today,” Veronica says with a tilt of her head. “Ate too much Christmas food?”

John smiles briefly and shakes his head. Veronica looks at him questionably as she holds open the door to the coffee shop.

“Nothing’s wrong,” he says, noting with some surprise that the coffee shop is almost empty.

Veronica opens her mouth to speak, but then it’s her turn and she opts for a quick frown in his direction instead. “An americano and a cappuccino to go, please.”

John looks at the food display and thinks of his leftover lunch in the fridge in the backroom.

“Come on,” Veronica says when she's ordered their coffees, hoisting herself up on a barstool. “Better let it out than end up attacking some poor customer.”

“You keep saying that,” John says,

Veronica kicks him lightly. “John.”

“You’re way too interested in my private life." At Veronica’s calm, unperturbed gaze, he exhales messily. “It really is nothing, my friends are just useless idiots.”

Veronica attempts to hide a smile. She doesn’t succeed. “Freddie and the lot?”

“Not so much Freddie,” John says, fighting down a silly smile at the thought of him, “well, he is pretty useless, and sometimes he’s a bit of an idiot, but at the moment it’s Brian and Roger who are driving me up the wall.”

“I just assume you’re talking about Freddie,” Veronica grins, legs idly kicking back and forth, “I know I’ve only met him twice, but he strikes me as very dramatic.”

“He's not as bad as you’d think.” John says. “No, Brian and Roger are just constantly fighting and it’s driving me nuts.”

“What are they fighting about?”

John snorts. “God knows. Brian’s lack of commitment to the band, his need of approval from his parents, Roger’s carelessness, politics, which songs go onto the album, the weather …”

“I thought you were all pretty committed.”

“Yeah,” John says, “but Brian also spends a lot of time on his degree, and apparently he’s not allowed to.”

“Roger’s studying too, isn’t he?”

“He is, but I don’t think he wants to. I don’t know. They’re both very hot-headed, the smallest things set them off.”

“Brian?” Veronica says with surprise, “but he seems so …”

“He does until you know which buttons to push,” John says, “and Roger knows them all.”

Veronica lifts an eyebrow.

“Of course Roger’s gay crisis is not helping much,” John adds, pushing himself away from where he’s been leaning against the wall when Veronica’s name is called.

Veronica snorts and hops off her chair to accept their coffees. “I’m sorry, what?”

John waves a hand. “Yes, gay crises are apparently also a thing in our household now.”

“Roger?” Veronica asks, handing him his coffee, “but he’s the epitome of the straight white boy.”

“Thanks,” John says, accepting the paper cup. He pops off the lid and sprinkles some cinnamon from the self service bar on top of the foam, just because he’s still feeling a bit Christmassy. “I know he is. No, I’m not sure that’s what it is, but he walked in on Brian getting off with somebody and has been weird about it ever since.”

“Charming,” is Veronica’s flat reply as they exit the coffee house.

“It’s not like that,” John says, feeling the need to defend Roger. He tries roll out the tension from his shoulders. “But it did create some issues, and they’re useless at talking because Roger is his usual idiot self and Brian gets so bloody offended every time he opens his mouth.

And that’s fine, it’s not my problem, but when they ruin our Christmas dinner—you know, because Freddie’s family doesn’t celebrate Christmas—when they ruin it because they can’t be civil around each other for five consecutive seconds, then it annoys me just a little bit. You should’ve seen them when we were opening presents, it was so awkward I wanted to set myself on fire.”

Veronica blinks. “Haven’t heard you go off like that since Derek insulted what’s-his-name from Lord of the Rings.”

“Boromir,” John replies automatically, mood darkening further at the mere mention. Fucking Derek. “Sorry.”

“No, it’s fine,” Veronica says, nudging his arm with her own, “believe it or not, I do care about how you’re feeling. You don’t share much.”

“Yeah, well.”

“I take it they’re still fighting, then?”

John takes a sip of coffee, lets the scalding liquid warm him up from the inside. “I don’t know. I don’t care.”

Veronica says nothing. John thinks of Freddie and his easy smile, the dark twinkle in his eyes.

He takes a breath. “Tell me what you are doing tonight."

“We’re going to try that restaurant Freddie suggested,” Veronica says, face lighting up.

John snorts. “You? At a fancy restaurant?”

She cuffs him on the arm. “I can be fancy!”

“Sure,” he says easily. “So are you wearing your baggy jeans or the ripped ones?”

“I don’t know why I’m even friends with you,” Veronica sighs.

“You’re not,” John says, “we’re merely tolerating each other.”

“I can’t believe we’ve been dating for a year," Veronica says with a happy grin, "Chrissie says it’s because I’m so scatterbrained.”

“She’s not wrong. It’s a good thing you have her,” John says, “for some reason I get the impression that she’s not only your girlfriend but also very much your impulse control.”

"I do have an impulse control," Veronica protests.

"Yes, Chrissie's her name, right?"

Veronica cuffs him on the arm.

"When are you gonna start dating so I can make fun of you?"

John just smiles at her.

♛ ♛ ♛

He's off at four but stays in the backroom for a good 15 minutes to avoid the downpour outside. Veronica didn't get in until 12, and he considers waiting for her, but 3 hours is a long time to wait; he hasn't even brought his readings.

He thinks of New Year's—he still hasn't got a proper outfit, even though he promised Freddie to stop by the stall long ago. The trip is too long to take on weekends, and the weather has been far from inspirational. He's really not sure how Freddie and Roger pass time when they're there or if they even sell anything, but then they've always been good at entertaining themselves, especially in the company of one another.

Before he knows what he's doing, he's putting on his jacket and exiting the backroom, waving at Veronica at the counter as he walks through the sliding doors. Within minutes, his jacket is darkened with rain, the tips of his fingers numbing with cold, his fringe plastered to his forehead.

The Tube seems more crowded than usual, and he has two umbrellas digging into him the whole way. The rain has let up when he steps off at Oxford Circus but the sleeves of his jacket are still sticking uncomfortably to his skin when he steps into Beyond Retro. A girl he doesn't recognise is at the counter, and he greets her with his customer smile before he knows what he's doing. He grimaces to himself and busies himself with a rack of windbreakers in techno print.

"Do you need help with anything?" a familiar voice asks, and John smiles and turns around to look at Freddie.

"I'm looking for something to wear for New Year's," John says, playing along, "70s inspired if possible."

"Certainly," Freddie says, "a moment and I'll be right back."

True to his word, Freddie soon returns with an armful of clothes; black velvet and blouses in slippery-soft material plus a worrying amount of sequined things.

"I see you've kept it classy," John says drily when Freddie holds up a blue sequined blouse with a large golden butterfly on the front.

"It came in today," Freddie grins, "isn't it revolting?"

"Bet you could get Brian to wear it, though," John says, following him to the fitting room.

"That's what I thought, too?" Freddie says, handing John the clothes. "Alina's taking her break in a minute so I gotta go, but come find me when you're done, you can use my staff discount."

John promises he will and doesn't look when Freddie leaves.

♛ ♛ ♛

It's almost time for dinner when John opens the door to their flat. He's in Freddie's jacket, his own drying in the backroom of Beyond Retro at Freddie's insistence, and he's still munching on a cheese twist from Tesco, careful not to spill crumbs down himself.

Roger is lounging on the couch with the cat, Macbook in his lap, the obnoxious click-click of the keyboard still audible above the TV. He looks up with a smile. "How's work?"

"Stimulating," John replies drily, dropping his bag in the armchair. "Is Brian home?"

"In his room, I think."

Of course he is.

John puts on the kettle. "Tea? Coffee?"

Roger makes a vague sound. John sends him an irritated look.

“I’m fine, thanks.”

He drops a spoonful of instant coffee in his Eeyore mug and brings it with him to sit in front of the TV. Putting his mug down, he shoves Roger’s feet off the couch and sprawls out on the worn cushions. Roger waits until he’s settled and then places his feet in John’s lap.

John can’t summon the energy to push them off.

They are silent for a while. John is worn out from work and the tension he’s carried with him all day. He just wants everything to go back to normal.

He looks at the screen. "What are you watching?"

"Velvet Goldmine. I've never seen it." Roger pauses the movie, reaches for his phone and snaps a picture. "Nice outfit," he says as explanation, and resumes.

It's not particularly interesting, John soon finds, and he leaves Roger and the rest of his coffee in favour of his bed.

They swap places later, an hour or so after Freddie's estimated return. Roger throws himself on his bed and pulls his phone from his back pocket, presumably to try to reach the next level in Candy Crush, and John's starting to get hungry.

He finds Freddie and Brian by the dinner table playing Battle. Brian has a blanket around his shoulders and the socks he's wearing are pink, fuzzy things. He sniffles.

"There you are," Freddie says with a smile, swiping up his own eight of spades and Brian's six of hearts to place them in his stack, "have you been sleeping?"

John shakes his head. "Do we have anything in the fridge?"

"I made some pasta earlier you're welcome to use," Brian offers.

But he's not in the mood for pasta or anything else in the fridge, especially not after he's thrown out a molten cucumber and a pack of string cheese. He looks through the cupboards and finds a forgotten granola bar and a bag of crisps, the first of which he washes down with a glass of milk.

Brian clears his throat. "I thought we could make dinner together tomorrow if everyone's home?"

The bag crinkles when John picks out the largest crisp.

"I think that sounds lovely," Freddie says, "we can go through the tracks afterwards, we still need to decide on a set list for Sunday."

Brian looks questioningly at John.

"Sounds good," he says, pushing himself away from the worktop to toss the bag of crisps on the couch and crouch in front of the DVD player.

"What are you watching?" Brian asks.

John puts the DVD case away, presses the remote, and sinks down in the armchair. "Return of the King."

"Oh, great, haven't seen that one in a while," Brian says, not waiting on an invitation to settle down in front of the TV.

Freddie has moved on to play solitaire but looks up long enough to send John an encouraging smile.

John sighs and starts the movie.

♛ ♛ ♛

When John returns from the bathroom later that evening, mouth kissed and minty fresh, Roger is stretched out on his bed. It's not a rare occurrence, but John is very much not in the mood and moves towards Roger's instead.

Roger looks at him dumbfounded. "What are you doing?"

"Getting into bed."  

Roger sitting up now, watching as he gets under the covers. They smell faintly like Roger, and when John stretches his legs, a drumstick falls out the bed with a clatter.

"Are you angry with me?" He says it like the very thought is absurd.

John rolls over to face the wall. "Goodnight, Roger."

"No," Roger says, and John can hear him get out of bed. He's grabbed by the shoulder, and he shrugs the hand off, annoyed. "What's wrong?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"You can't just come in and act all bothered without explaining why," Roger says, "that's an arseholey thing to do."

“Of course I’m fucking bothered,” John snaps, throwing the duvet aside and sitting up in bed, “you’re acting like bloody children.”

"What, who?"

"You and Brian," John says, "I’m sick of dealing with you two, you act like bloody children. It’s not fucking fair that Freddie’s Christmas is ruined because you two can’t sort yourself out!"

“We didn’t—”

“I’m not done talking,” John interrupts. “You are both grown men, so act like it. Unless one of you plan on finding somewhere else to live, we’ve got to put down some ground rules. I can't stand all this drama.”

Roger blinks at him. A car races by on the street outside.

"I don't know what to say."

John crosses his arms. "A promise to sort this thing out would be a great start. An apology from both of you would also be nice."

Roger cracks a weak smile. "You know you'll never get that from Brian." The hair on his legs stand on end, his arms are wrapped around himself in a loose embrace. He clears his throat. "I'm sorry. I'll sort it out."

"Well. I appreciate it."

Roger shifts from one foot to another. "Can I, um. Can I have my bed back? Or sleep in yours?"

"I'm not getting up again," John says, scooting back against the wall, "but I suppose I can't deny you your own bed."

"Thanks," Roger says, worming his way underneath the duvet, "bit cold."

They're silent for a while, Roger warming his feet on John's calves and John trying to ignore the nagging feeling that says he was too harsh.

He turns his head to face him. "Roger?"

"Hm?"

"Sorry I talked so harshly to you,"

Roger smiles faintly. "Hm, no. I'm glad. You're right, we're both knobheads."

John tightens the grip around the duvet. "Yes, but."

Roger looks to the ceiling. "Can I talk about him? Or would you rather not get involved?"

John thinks about it. "If I can tell Freddie."

"Yes, of course. I think he knows most of it anyway, I talked to him while you were at work. His advice was a bit more gentle."

"It clearly hasn't made a difference."

"Not really, no," Roger admits. "It's just—he's so difficult sometimes. We, uhm, we hooked up the night before you came back, and then yesterday I accidentally insulted him, and now he's angry with me again."

"How on Earth do you manage to insult someone you've just slept with?"

"I don't know! God," Roger says, running a hand over his eyes, "it's such a mess, and I don't know how to get out of it. I don't even know if I want to."

"What do you want, then?" John asks softly.

"Honestly?" Roger asks with a small laugh. "I haven't got a clue. Him, I suppose. In some way. I'd fuck him for sure. Sorry. But he's so difficult and I don't even know what this means. He was so angry with me, talking about how it was great I was so comfortable with my sexuality that I could fool around with friends without it meaning anything. And I know it makes me an arsehole to say, but honestly? I don't see what the fuss is about. Labels don't mean a fucking thing, they're just in the way."

"That's not a very emphatic way to look at it," John says. "Labels help a lot of people."

"I know. Or I don't, I suppose. He's just so. I can't figure him out."

"No, I think we've established that," John says drily. "Have you tried talking to him about it?"

"About the whole labels thing? God, no, he'd kill me with the lecture I'd receive."

"That you want to shag him."

Roger snorts.

"Well?"

"He doesn't even kiss on the mouth. How is he even real? This isn't Pretty Woman, it's fucking awkward to have sex without kissing. He's not a machine, for God's sake. We're not strangers. Why does he treat me like one?"

John sighs. "Really, talking is one of our greater forms of communication. Feels good, this, doesn't it? Talk to him instead of me. This does nothing but make you feel better."

Roger glances at him. "And that doesn't count as anything?"

"Roger," John says, "if you don't solve this soon, I will genuinely murder both of you."

"I know." Roger rolls over to bury his face in the pillow. "Somehow murder doesn't sound too bad."

"Save the drama," John says, "you'll be fine."

♛ ♛ ♛

John isn't halfway up the stairs to their flat before the sound of a Bruce Springsteen record reaches his ears. When he's let himself in and ridded himself of his boots and jacket, he finds Roger sprawled out in the armchair, chucking pick ‘n’ mix at a lump of blankets John can only assume is Brian.

"Stop it," the lump groans, confirming John's suspicions.

"Mr. Deacon," Roger exclaims, "where have you been?"

"At work. You know this."

"I'm fairly certain no one's told me such a thing," Roger says, chucking another piece of candy at the lump on the couch.

"Cup of tea?" John asks, hand hovering over the kettle.

Roger, who's paused to rifle through the pink paper bag, looks at him, popping a piece of candy into his mouth and making a great show of chewing thoughtfully on it. Behind him, a hand moves out from beneath the blankets, searching for a while before closing around a cola bottle and retreating with swiftness.

Roger swallows, hand in the bag again. "Will you make it properly?"

"We don't have that much sugar, so no," he says and Roger throws a strawberry lance at him which he easily catches and dumps in the trash can, earning himself an outraged "hey!" from Roger.

He looks at the pile of blankets. "Brian?"

"Tea," Brian croaks, "please."

"You think you'll be good for Sunday?" John asks, pulling out Brian's Rice Dream from the fridge.

Brian resurfaces from underneath the blankets, hair static and dark circles under his eyes.

Roger lets out a snort at the sight.

"Of course," Brian says and sneezes. Roger passes him the box of tissues.

"Do you have a fever?"

Brian shakes his head miserably. "Everything hurts."

"Do you want—"

"Don't bother," Roger says, "I secretly crunched a Paracetamol and put it in his tea but he wouldn't touch it. You're way too suspicious of other people, Bri."

"Because you try to drug me!"

"What does Freddie use?" John asks, "doesn't he take pulverised ginger sometimes when he's got a headache?"

"I think that's only for hangovers," Roger says, digging through his bag of candy, "but he's worse than Brian. He's happy to suffer without painkillers as long as it's self-induced, but then he coughs once and he's popping pills like nobody's business. What a couple of freaks we're living with, Deaks."

"You can come cry about it when you've suffered a blood clot," Brian says. John places his cup of tea in front of him on the coffee table and receives a grateful smile.

"Oh, I will," Roger promises.

♛ ♛ ♛

By dinner time, Brian has perked up considerably. They've all been assembled in the kitchen along with a bag of groceries Freddie brought home at Brian's request.

“A Shepherd’s Pie without meat,” Roger repeats, hoisting himself up on the worktop. “right. Mashed potatoes, I think it’s called.”

John sends him a look. Even though they have been awfully well behaved the whole day, he's still wary of potential fights. Brian ignores him, thankfully, until Roger picks up the bottle of red and unscrews the cap to take a swig.

“Yes, just drink straight from the bottle,” he says. Roger raises the bottle to him. “We all love sharing saliva with you.”

Roger shrugs. “Stays in the family.”

“John, peel the potatoes, will you? Freddie can dice them.” Brian snatches the bottle from Roger and hands him an onion instead. “Here. Finely chopped.”

“Of course I get the onion,” Roger grumbles.

John puts a hand on Freddie’s arm to get him to move from where he’s blocking the kitchen drawer, and hands out knives to Freddie and Roger before knocking the drawer closed with his hip.

Brian is looking through the cupboards and pulling out kitchen supplies while the three of them peel and dice and chop. Freddie’s humming along to the song playing on the radio, pausing in his work to pour himself a glass of wine, not bothered by Brian's exasperated look.

The near silence is promptly disturbed by an exclamation from Roger. When John looks at him, he’s dropped the small knife and is studying a cut on his finger.

“Looks like it’s not gonna be entirely vegan after all,” Roger says, sticking his finger in his mouth. Freddie visibly shudders.

"Right, hands washed and a plaster on, then you can come back and chop the rest," Brian says, shooing Roger away. Roger turns around and sticks his tongue out.

"I'm a decent cook, aren't I?" Freddie asks, scooping the diced potatoes up in his hands to put them in the bowl Brian has handed him.

"Of course you are," Brian replies distractedly.

"I'm definitely a better cook than Roger."

Brian looks up. "I would never call Roger a cook."

"I can't believe you would talk about me behind my back like that," Roger says loudly, crossing the living room to join them in the kitchen, "well. Fred and Bri I can believe, but I would've thought you'd stop them, Deaks."

"It's not like it's a secret," Brian says. "We can't all be good at everything. Me, for example, I'm not good at, uh ..."

"Conflict resolution?" John offers after a beat.

"Choosing yourself over others," Freddie supplies, "being present. You're too much in your head."

"You can't hold your drink, never admit when you're wrong, suck at—"

"Yes, thank you, lovely examples all of you," Brian interrupts, "can we get on with it?"

"Easy enough for you to say," Roger says, pressing the heels of his hands against his eyes, "you're not battling an onion."

Brian looks at him, surprised. “Aren’t you wearing your contacts?”

“No,” Roger says, eyes still covered by his hands.

“I’m sorry,” Brian frowns, “I thought you did. That’s why I had you cut it.”

“So because my eyesight is already shit, fuck if my eyes are hurt?”

"No, because read somewhere that people who wear contact lenses don't cry when they chop onion," Brian says, "I thought you were wearing them, honestly."

"Where the hell did you read that?" Roger says, still rubbing his eyes, "no, strike that, why on earth would you ever read an article about contacts and onion chopping when you don't wear them yourself?"

"I don't know," Brian says, lifting his shoulders defensively, "you do. Am I not allowed to expand my knowledge on things that don't affect me directly?"

"You are," Roger says, "but it makes you a giant nerd."

Brian rolls his eyes. "I think I can survive that."

By some miracle / Brian's constant monitoring of their every movement, the pie turns out well. In fact, it looks so good that Roger pulls out his phone from the pocket of his jeans and snaps a picture of their dish in all its glory in the middle of the dining table.

“You’re not putting this on Facebook, are you?” Brian says warily. John sometimes has trouble figuring out how Brian's brain works.

“It deserves to,” Freddie declares. John smiles.

“It’s for my mum,” Roger says and pockets his phone, “she was worried I couldn’t cook.”

“You can’t,” Brian says mildly, cutting into the pie and gesturing for John to hand him his plate.

“Do you think that onion chopped itself?” Roger says, looking down his nose at Brian, “I bled and cried for this meal!”

“You weren’t supposed to,” John reminds him.

“Can’t help that you lot aren’t as dedicated as I am,” Roger says, accepting a steaming plate from Brian. He breathes in deeply. “And how lucky you were to have me on the team because this smells like a masterpiece.”

Brian looks pleased.

They eat in relative silence, broken mostly by Brian sneezing into his elbow. It's nice to get something besides his three staple meals and takeaway, and John doesn't think it's unthinkable that they could cook a proper meal together once or twice a week.

They leave the dishes for later in favour of practise, something John knows both he and Brian will regret later, but even practised as they are, they're no match for an enthusiastic Freddie and Roger.

They practise for approximately ten minutes before they run into problems.

"I'm just not sure it'll work, is all," Brian is saying, hands on his hips, and John doesn't hide his sigh as he lets his head fall back against the wall. "It's too different from what's on the album."

"Who cares about the album," Roger says, "it works like this."

Brian's mouth is a thin line. "It's too fast."

"Fred and Deaks can keep up just fine."

John stifles a groan. He puts his bass away and leaves the room. When he returns with a cup of coffee, they're still arguing about the same stupid song. He picks up his bass again and sips his coffee.

"Deaks, what do you—" Freddie pauses upon noticing his cup. John raises an eyebrow. "What do you say?"

"Well, like all of you, I absolutely love arguing about the same track for hours on end, but so far the set list is three tracks long, so maybe get a move on?" he says, "generally, Brian, you're supposed to follow us, but yes, Roger did go a bit fast, just like he always does when we practise and he's bored. How you even have the energy to argue about this is beyond me."

"I still thinks it's too fast," Brian mutters.

"I still think you're an arse," Roger shoots back. Brian glares at him but keeps silent. Freddie pops his knuckles.

John doesn't know why he bothers with these idiots.

♛ ♛ ♛

“Close your eyes, love.”

John does as he’s told, shivering lightly when cold liquid liner is applied to the edge of his eyelid. Freddie’s hand is warm and steady against his cheek, the other resting on his forehead, one finger gently pulling the skin above his eye taut.

When Freddie removes his hand, John opens his eyes. Freddie flashes him a warm smile, and John glances at the others. They've both been fitted into black velvet flares, and Roger's standing between Brian's legs, carefully applying glitter to his cheeks. John's stomach twists.

“Close again.”

Soundcheck ran more smoothly than anticipated, so it’s not that John is nervous - it’s been a while, is all. They're lucky to have got a gig at New Years, and the sweet expectation makes him feel jittery. Their friends will be there. They'll perform on stage again. And, he thinks in a voice that sounds like Roger's, they're almost guaranteed enough free drinks to get properly sloshed.

He smooths down his shirt, focusing on the soft velvet instead of Freddie's hands on his face. His shirt is black and speckled with gold, and it reminds John of the sky at night.

"There you go," Freddie says, smiling when he opens his eyes, "all ready to break hearts."

"Thank you," John says, reaching for his phone to inspect himself using the front camera of his phone.

"Looking good, Deaks," Roger calls. He's wearing a blouse similar to John's own; glittery silver tongues stretching outwards from the middle and up the sleeves on black, slippery-soft satin. One of his friends has helped him add in hair extensions. For a gag, he'd said, and gone way overboard with glitter hair spray.

Brian is wearing no eye makeup but has been fitted into a bell sleeved, dark blue shirt, the fabric adorned with tiny silver beads, and John thinks he recognises it from Freddie's closet. "10 minutes to go," he says, anxiously looking at Freddie who's applying eyeliner in front of the mirror. His guitar is slung over his shoulder, and he keeps running his hand over the fretboard.

"Almost there, love," Freddie says, carefully removing some excess glitter from above his eyelid.

"I'll just pop out for a smoke, then," Roger says, laughing at Brian's stressed "no!".

"Alright," Freddie says, pushing his chair back, "let's make this night and the whole of 2018 unforgettable!"

They play well that night. It's an exhilarating feeling, and John is at once hit with just how much he's missed performing. The hall is chilly but it's sweltering under the lights and the beat goes deep, vibrating through his bones. Freddie's performance is electric; vocals crisp and movements graceful but full of grandeur, and John catches a wicked smile when Freddie thrusts his pelvis against his microphone stand. He’s all long legs in black satin and platform heels, his face a picture of bliss. He transforms into someone else entirely when he takes the stage, and the stage is too small; he can tell Freddie is in need of more space, and John very badly wants them to make it big, if only to be able to see Freddie express himself fully. His smile is blinding when he looks at him, his gaze grounding, and he drapes himself over John, elegant fingers dancing along the fretboard on his bass for a second before he is gone again in a flurry of satin and glitter.

Brian is, as usual, lost to the world, and John hides a smile when he catches him having wandered too far away and suddenly rushing to the microphone to sing backing vocals. Roger flashes a grin down at him, having caught it, too, but then he's distracted by Freddie, and John cannot imagine how much more dull playing would be if they didn't have someone like Freddie to interact not only with the crowd, but with them was well.

The applause they get is not bad for the size of the club and Freddie drinks it in, bowing exaggeratedly with a tin foil rose in hand, and John smiles.

Brian wraps an arm around John's shoulders as they exit the stage. Roger has just been released from a hug by a beaming Freddie, and is raking a hand through his hair, grinning madly. John's heart is racing, feeling like it's about to pop out of his chest. He can't believe it's been so long since they played together like this, properly, on stage and in front of a crowd. He's already longing for the next time, and what a way this is to say goodbye to the old year. Freddie's toweling off in the makeshift dressing room and greets him with a kiss to the cheek. Glitter sticks to his skin, and he shows no signs of tiredness. Someone comes in not long after to show them to the showers, Freddie and Roger being lead to one bathroom, Brian and John to another.

They talk loudly to one another while they undress, their energy bouncing off the white tiled walls, and John even thinks he can hear Freddie and Roger's rendition of Africa in the bathroom next door.

The spray of water is cold on John's back when he first goes in, but it only adds to his energy. It turns warm soon enough, and he gives into the temptation to just stand under the spray for a while, enjoying a shower that won't end up on their water bill.

Brian's half dressed when John reaches for his towel and pushes the curtain aside, trousers up but still undone, putting on his socks. John's not sure what he thinks of the order of Brian's dressing routine, but supposes he's not one to judge. Freddie and Roger barge in soon after, towels wrapped around their waists, hair dripping onto their shoulders. They start applying glitter again right away, offering some to Brian who turns them down with a wrinkle of his nose, then John, who patiently lets them have their fun until he starts to feel a bit too much like a live disco ball.

Veronica’s there when he steps outside, Freddie’s arm loose around his waist. She’s wearing a green suit and has Chrissie on her arm, and they’re both smiling and congratulating them. Veronica has only met Roger and Freddie once or twice before and Chrissie none of them, but they all exchange hugs nonetheless, and John’s feeling warm and happy and dying for a drink.

They’re on their way to the bar, a few people stopping to compliment them on the show, when Roger grabs his arm so tight he stops in his tracks.

“That’s Dominique!” Roger whispers, eyes glued to a pair of girls kissing a few metres from them.

“Who?”

“A girl I shagged,” Roger says, watching them helplessly. “I can’t believe she’s gay! God, but I’m also a little turned on.”

“Maybe hooking up with you was what made her realise,” John suggests, unsuccessful in holding back a snort of laughter at Roger’s perplexed expression.

♛ ♛ ♛

Freddie finds him a few hours later about to take a break from dancing with Chrissie. Tonight’s music seems to be an ode to the 80s, and John is in his element.

"Come with me," Freddie says, silly and drunk, finger closing around John's wrist. He shivers at the touch, the warm breath on his ear, and waves Chrissie goodbye before he lets himself be lead through the crowd, heart speeding just a little. Roger's voice calls out for them, but Freddie either ignores him or doesn't hear, because they continue up the stairs, Freddie stumbling and John catching him by the waist. For a moment all he's aware of is the solid warmth pressed against him and their madly beating hearts. Then Freddie turns in his arms, too close and with a naughty smile on his lips. John looks him in the eye, and Freddie's leaning closer, lips ghosting over John's own, before he twists out of John's arms again and pulls him up the last three steps. The upstairs corridors are quiet and empty, another world completely. Freddie pulls open a door to the right, and John follows him inside the music room. The sounds of the party downstairs are faint; Freddie's presence seems to dim all sounds.

“Who leaves a music room unlocked when there’s a party downstairs?” he wonders out loud. His gaze falls on a grand piano standing against the end wall, flanked by tall plants on either side and a velvet armchair to the right. The piano is white, a Steinway of course, and John really isn’t surprised.  He finds himself gravitating towards it; Freddie has sat himself down on the bench already, scooted close to the edge so there's space for John.

"Sit down," Freddie instructs, and John complies.

"I'm assuming you're Yoko?" he asks, dropping his fingers to the keys to play the opening notes.

Freddie lets out a soft snort. "Oh, I wish," he says. "I'm afraid I'll never be as gorgeous."

"She's, what, 80 at the very least, I think you'll get there soon."

Freddie lets out a funny little giggle.

"You're drunk."

"You're distracting me."

John nudges his shoulder. "Get on with it, then, lest we get caught."

"Alright, bossy," Freddie says, shooing his hands off the keys. "You just sit there and look pretty. Listen."

"You're just creaming your pants to have a go, I can tell. Glad we have neither the space nor the funds to have one at home, you'd be insufferable."

Freddie's face, previously scrunched up in concentration as if perusing the menu on a restaurant, relaxes into a small laugh, and his fingers fall away from where they've been hovering over the keys.

"Would you stop? This is your Christmas present you're ruining."

This makes John's ears perk up, and he obediently slides his hands underneath his thighs. One corner of Freddie's mouth twists upwards, and he begins playing.

It's nothing John's heard before, but it makes him think of deep sunny fields and old forests and magic stirring deep inside the earth; warm, calming tones, then suddenly deeper, more longing, like a calling from the sea, and John doesn't know where these images come from, but he can picture it all so very clearly. Freddie's slim fingers dance over the keys, his eyes closed, and he's so hauntingly beautiful John can't look away, the world narrowed down to the music and the angles of Freddie's face.

"What is it?" he gets out when Freddie's stopped, his voice embarrassingly screwed up.

"What do you think?" Freddie asks, and John's all jittery from the way he's looking at him.

"Tell me?"

"Tell me what you think it is?" Freddie teases. John rolls his eyes. "If I say it's part of the first present?"

"Cerin Amroth?" he asks after a moment. "You put music to it?"

"I liked the part you read to me."

John hides his face in his hands. "You’ve got to stop," he groans through the spaces between his fingers.

"Whatever have I done?" Freddie says, voice light with amusement.

John removes his hand to give him a pointed look. "You're being too stupidly nice. Too talented. Too ... you know. Quite lovely, I suppose, too."

Freddie is positively looking like the Cheshire Cat on Christmas. "Oh?"

John groans. "Stop it, you know you're gorgeous and distracting, don't expect a soliloquy on your ethereal beauty.”

"Mr. Deacon," he thrills, "all this flatter for little old me?"

John buries his face in Freddie's shoulder, cheeks hot with embarrassment. Freddie's arms come up to wrap around him, and John relaxes instantly. He suddenly feels sleepy from the buzz of alcohol.

He's not sure what will become of them, if Brian decides to go or not, but he's not worried; he knows the new year will bring them the best of things and in that moment, he's positive every last one of even Freddie's wildest dreams will come true. Brian can go on with his stars and Roger can ditch uni and Freddie will become a star and John will be with the three of them, and that's all that matters to him.

He toys with the hem of Freddie's shirt, scrunches up his nose when Freddie presses a kiss to his forehead.

"Thank you," John says softly. Freddie smiles against his skin.

[peppusae]

[kth] lavender honey ch. 6

note: this fanfic has multiple chapters, so please look forward to more!

lavender honey: kim taehyung x reader

genre: crack, fluff, college au, smut

word count: 3k words

>

lavender honey

ch 6: in which... sad things happen.

There's a saying that too much happiness can actually be unhealthy for you.

And there are no truer words… not when you get a phone call from your parents and you pick up the call to hear the very worried voice of your Mum, telling you and Namjoon to come visit your sick grandfather as soon as you can.

And so, you find yourself in Namjoon's car, to head to Ilsan. Your fingers are trembling while you type out and tell Taehyung you have to cancel the plan for the weekend.

“Your Grandpa is sick, I don't know why you're apologizing that you can't accompany me. You don't have to apologize for that, [Name]-ah.” He has to express, when he calls your number as soon as you send him the text.

You can only give a nod, one he wouldn't even see, and mayhaps he noticed something off about your response (or lack thereof), because he hums in acknowledgement at you.

“I'd really like it if you can… keep me updated.”

“Okay.” You agree, a little touched at his words. Another call is approaching your phone so you say bye to Taehyung, before picking up the call from your Mum.

“Mom says to hurry.”

Namjoon accelerates the car in response.

---

There's something new you learn everyday.

Sometimes, what you learn is very little. But on the other days, you learn a lot over a short time.

That's what life is.

Today, you understand the value of family.

Namjoon holds your hand tightly while you watch the ECG system, the heartbeat rate of your only living grandparent dangerously dropping with every passing second. He lies still, and you try your hardest to watch and tell apart the rise and fall of his chest, but…

It doesn’t happen anymore.

Beside your grandpa's ear, you can see your uncle reciting soothing prayers, and the tears forming in Namjoon's eyes are unbearable for you.

So you give your grandpa's hand a squeeze and step outside, feeling your lips trembling when you feel your phone vibrating in your pocket.

Jungkook..?

“Noonim?” He asks, voice soft when you don't respond.

“Hello.”

“Noonim. Where are you?”

What's the best answer for that? Was there a way you could cut the call and text him instead? Because saying the single hi had taken everything ounce of energy that you had.

“... Ilsan.”

“Noonim… I…”

“My grandpa is sick. Can I text you back, Jungkookie?”

It’s almost like you can hear his nod, as he stutters out a ‘Y-Yes, okay!’ before you hang the call.

It's right after this call when Namjoon steps outside and takes a seat next to you. It's rare, to see him like this as he holds his hand towards you while he takes his phone out as well. So you let him, watching as he makes his call, and it reminds you that despite the bantering and slight distance you two had after you two had started growing up, this was still the same Namjoon who would build sand castles with you when you go to the beach, even though he would have preferred to swim, instead.

The growing up had put some distance between you two, but you realize that you two needed each other as much as you did when you were little and needed a partner to play hopscotch with.

So it's difficult to watch as he squeezes your hand,  to hear him say ‘Yes, Professor Yeon? I'm afraid I can't assist you over this weekend. My grandfather passed away so I'm out of the city.’

And this pains you as you watch the slightly scrunched up face of his as he listens to probable condolences that his professor sends him.

“Joon… Did they confirm it..? Grandpa really… passed away?”

“Just minutes ago.”

You feel your heart crumbling, wishing you didn't step outside and had stayed with him to the end. So you let Namjoon wrap his arm around your shoulder and hold you tight while you hear and feel his sniffs reverberate through his chest.

The funeral is to be held on the same day, 6 hours after your grandpa left the world. You worry about Namjoon, because he has spent a big chunk of his childhood with Grandpa and joined him when he tried to disassemble and reassemble machines.

You don't have any such memories with Grandpa and maybe that's why you aren't able to shed tears, even though they prickle at the corner of your eyes.

And you aren't sure if the tears were actually because you were grieving, or if it was caused by seeing Namjoon so vulnerable and shedding tears.

… It's quite cruel of you, isn't it?

You had messaged both Taehyung and Jungkook, and the two of them had sent you their condolences. The elder had made a call which you refused to take, and you had seen Namjoon rejecting a call from Taehyung as well.

There are many people coming to see grandpa one last time before they put him in his coffin. A lot of people give you their condolences as well, and family members you hadn't met in years also give your shoulders pats, while Namjoon not leaving your side makes you able to control your trembling lips.

It's a few minutes to 5pm, the time when the funeral begins. A man comes up to where you and your family are huddled by Grandpa's still form, and you're confused when you see a lot of your aunts - and even your mom - starting to sob, when this man brings a big piece of white cloth with him.

“Namjoon, what's going on-”

And you slowly understand. You slowly understand, when you watch the man placing the cloth over Grandpa's face, and you realize that everyone was crying harder than before because this was the final time, that they will never ever see grandpa’s face again.

You will never see Grandpa again.

You had felt Namjoon's grip on your hands tighten, and this is the moment you break down.

All the tears that hadn't wanted to come down.. All the sadness that had been building up ever since the phone call from your Mom… And everything in between comes down into big baby sobs, and the tears are endless, even when Namjoon turns to you and gives you a little chuckle, through his own tears.

“You're gonna cry now, baby sis?” He asks, and it makes you cry as hard, thankful when he wraps his arms around you.

“Hyung!”

The deep, familiar voice makes you lift your face off from Namjoon and glance at the doorway, where Kim Taehyung stands, hair disheveled and bow tie undone - he had clearly ran a significant distance - and seeing him making his way to you two makes the tears stream down from your face even more. So you find the safety of Namjoon's chest once again while you bawl your eyes out.

“Ah, Taehyung-ah?”

“Hyung. I'm sorry, I wanted to make it in time to see Grandpa’s face as well, but I got late.”

Your sniffles get louder when Taehyung refers to your Grandpa as his as well, then places a hand on your shoulder, the other one on Namjoon's.

“I came to join the funeral, if you'll let me.”

“Thank you, Taehyung-ah. Sincerely. You can.” You hear Namjon respond, and he moves away a little, and you refuse to face Taehyung so you turn away while the two probably exchange embraces.

“[Name]-ah, let's not cry too much.” Namjoon pats your back softly, still patting your hair.

“Hyung, if you will let me…”

You start to walk away, maybe go to see your Mom instead and just wanting to hold onto someone and cry. But turning around was a bad idea, because you see your uncles carrying the coffin out towards the entrance of the cemetery lands.

And you’re about to walk off before your crying gets loud, when you feel a strong hold on your wrist - one that was definitely not Namjoon.

It baffles you. His grip is so tight but it feels so careful, so delicate that it makes you glance to face Taehyung, who looks at you with doleful eyes. And his eyes are so sad that it makes you turn away again, his grip tightening before he pulls you towards him.

“My heart sinks each time I see you try to hide your face from me.” Taehyung admits, both his arms wrapping around your back and pulling your face to his chest. “If you want to cry… Then, I want you to cry in front of me.”

It's hard not to let it all out when someone says something like that. It's hard no to bawl your eyes out and cry, not holding in your voice which you'd been trying to even while Namjoon was around.

And Taehyung is so careful with you, hands patting your head and pressing soft pecks on your head, humming to you and allowing you to soak the entire front of his shirt and half of his undone bow tie as well.

It must have taken a long time. Taehyung holds tight to you and waits for you like that, and when you move away from him, you’re slightly alarmed to see that most of the guests also have left from the waiting room to join the ceremony.

“God, I look terrible.” You say, wiping your face after you calm down a little. Taehyung watches as you reach for the pack of tissues and reaches a hand to card his fingers through his hair.

“I look worse, I ran all the way here.” He says, finally tying the bowtie which had been loose. “When I found out, I just…. I really wanted to come and attend the funeral with you. Uh, and Namjoon-hyung, too. So I took a train and came here, and I forgot that I didn't have cash on me so.” Your thankful smile turns into sigh at how stupid Taehyung can be, under pressure. He's silent as he watches you while you pat your hair and neaten it a little.

“I've been wiping my face nonstop but the tears just keep coming. That's funny, isn't it?”

He doesn't respond, instead reaching his hand out for you. And you can hear Namjoon calling to you, asking you to join the ceremony and Taehyung isn't family but he feels even closer than that, so you make him sit beside you.

And maybe you're selfish like that.

You'd argue and mock him every chance you get, but now, as he had traveled cities for you and Namjoon's sake… And wouldn't let go of your hand to console you while you cried as the funeral progressed...

You're thankful for him, and your tears have dried out by the end of the ceremony where Namjoon asks Taehyung to stay over.

“Mom. This is our friend from college, Taehyung. He came to visit us and join the funeral.” Namjoon turns to face the male who looks a little flustered at the way your parents watch him. And you don't realize just why he looks red in the face, until he waves his hand a little, and-

Oh.

You still had his hand in your grip, after all.

So you let go, and Taehyung turns to you, a little baffled, but turns to look at your parents when you nod at him.

“Yes, thank you for coming to join us even though this would have taken away your entire weekend, especially if you stay over.”

“I don't mind.” He hurries to respond, looking from you to Namjoon, then back at your parents, who are smiling at the male. “I just. Really like these two siblings, that's why. I hope you can find some healing by spending time with your family and understand that Grandpa is at a better place than he was, earlier.”

Your Dad gives Taehyung a nod as he says ‘Yes, it'll take some time for things to fall back to its place, but we will try our best’, and your Mom pats his hair. You think she likes how fluffy his hair is. You definitely thought his hair was adorably fluffy. But that's a whole other story.

“Would you mind?” He asks, when your parents leave to greet the other attendees.

“When was the last time you cared about what I think?” You ask back.

Namjoon sighs, but he has a smile on his face. “I guess she's cheering up after you came. Thanks for visiting, Taehyung-ah. Stay over so we can drive together tomorrow evening, yeah?”

“Anything for you two, Hyung.”

---

Your house in Ilsan is huge.

Your family isn’t exactly royal, but their wealth is considerably above the average well-off standard.

Your favorite is the balcony. It extends out as a narrow hallway, widening afterwards and forming a big circle.

You missed this place.

So you stand at the center, and it’s almost half past one in the morning when the wind blows cooly against your skin. It’s so familiar, and feels refreshing against the two lines of tears on your face that have dried down.

The door to the balcony slides and you turn to see Kim Taehyung, wearing one of Namjoon’s pajamas - they have Ryan on it, and is probably three sizes too big on him - and he gives you a wave before he walks to you.

“Hi.”

“Hello, Taehyungie.”

“I honestly can’t remember a time when you’d called me that name.” He says, joining you and resting his arms on the cement railing. “This you is so new to me.”

“You talk as if I’m a horrible person unless I get vulnerable.”

Taehyung smiles, waving his hand to dismiss your statement.

“So you messaged Jungkook too?”

“Yes.”

There’s a moment of silence before he says ‘I see’, and you really wished you knew why. Was he feeling lonely? If you think about it, everyone really was pairing up, in your squad. There’s definitely something going on with Jimin and Yoongi, and Seokjin and Namjoon were showing some progress too. Hani has a boyfriend from senior year, and you like how well Hoseok gets along with Hyojin…

And now that you’re going out with Jungkook, you realise that Taehyung might feel a little lonely. Was that why he has such a distant look on his face whenever he talks about the younger male? Because you were dating his game buddy and he realises the weight of being the only one not paired up with someone?

“Taehyungie…”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t you ever think about dating? Is there someone you like?”

“The fuck is that out of the blue question?” He raises an eyebrow, and - jeez, he has very attractive eyebrows, they’re just so thick.

“I’m too busy reaching high notes to acknowledge your bullshit.”

“What does my question have anything to do with you reaching high notes? Your comebacks are starting to get sloppy.”

“You clearly haven’t heard me reaching a perfect high note.”

You smile, knowing that, even under a sad situation where you’re here at Ilsan for family issues, he can make you smile. It’s nice like this, because it feels like Taehyung feels that way as well, if the beam on his face as he looks down from the fifth floor of your house is any indication.

“Then, let me hear it once.”

“Maybe I’ll do a collaboration with Jungkook. He has a nice voice, you know?”

“Ah, he does?” You ask. You think back, how did he and and Jungkook become friends in the first place, despite the grade difference?

More importantly, how did you and Taehyung become friends, even though you two had different majors?

And most important of all, when did you two become such close friends that Taehyung would spend his money and travel all the way to console you?

“How do you not know this, I thought you two were dating..?”

“We haven’t…. Made things official, yet.”

“Hmm.”

“He asked me out for the weekend but I cancelled because I had to go with you for the library book collection.”

This makes Taehyung’s jaw drop open, as if he couldn’t believe he was hearing right.

“What? I mean. Why? I told you, right… If you didn’t have to go, only…”

“It doesn’t matter, Jungkook and I could go out any other day, too.” You wave your hand, and Taehyung hums in response.

“Didn’t take you for someone who has a Noona kink.”

“Shut up.” It’s not a Noona kink, it’s actually a Noonim kink, get your facts right, Kim Taehyung.

“You’re weird.”

“Did I.. say that out loud too..?” “Yes you did, you applebot.” You scrunch your face in response to Taehyung flicking your forehead. “Now go get some sleep. You had a long day.”

You nod, following him back inside, and he pauses on his way to the guest room, glancing at you one more time when you make your way to yours.

“Hey, [Name]?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable by hugging you today. I know I’m not Jungkook, but it just felt like the right thing to do, so I had to hold you as tightly as I could.”

Now, why did your heart sting, at those words?

Why is it paining you, to see the lorn look in his eyes, as he looks straight into your eyes?

It kinda hurts, and you actually ball your hands into fists, shaking your head.

“You don’t need to be Jungkook. I needed it. Thank you, Taehyungie.”

The expressionless nod he gives before he heads into his room before you could say anything back to him makes you unclench your fists.

Because, really, you wondered if you would have felt calm easier if Jungkook was the one who came instead, if he was the one who held your hand during the funeral, if he was the one your Mom looked at with swooning eyes.

It’s hard to picture Jungkook in a position like that, but it seems natural for Taehyung.

Was it because he and Namjoon are good friends, or if he’s just naturally good at socialising, which isn’t Jungkook’s best feat?

Taehyung’s words repeat in your head over and over until you fall asleep in the comfortable and warm comforter of yours, in your bedroom.

‘My heart sinks each time I see you try to hide your face from me.’

‘I know I’m not Jungkook, but it just felt like the right thing to do, so I had to hold you as tightly as I could.’

---

[flowers-creativity]

Normalcy and Safety

Fandom: Stranger Things Characters: Steve Harrington, Dustin Henderson, Lucas Sinclair, Max Mayfield, Jim Hopper, Mike Wheeler, Will Byers, Eleven | El | Jane Hopper Warnings: Bullying, panic attacks, minor injuries, missing person Summary: Steve feels like life in Hawkins is going back to normal. He may be right. But normal is not the same as safe.

Or: He opens the door one Saturday afternoon and finds Lucas and Max standing there, their eyes big and scared in pale faces. “It's Dustin,” Lucas says, and Steve feels his stomach drop down to somewhere around the Earth's core, probably.

Life in Hawkins goes back to normal.

Sure, Steve now hates it to sit in the back seat of a car when someone else is behind the wheel, and there are the nightmares – they all have them though he hasn't told the kids about his besides the fact that he has them. He's talked about them with Nancy (he is capable of learning some lessons, thank you very much) and with Mrs. Byers, too, who is surprisingly nice to talk to when she isn't a nervous wreak. Things have changed otherwise, too – Nancy, Jonathan and him are still awkward around each other, a bit uncomfortable and careful, but they seem to be somewhere on the way to being friends. And on some days, it doesn't hurt any more to see them together. Dustin has become a new fixture in Steve's life, always around to beg him for a ride or trying to get him to come to the movies with them or just to hang out, and he's got to know Mrs. Henderson who is loving and warm and insists that he stays for dinner half the time when he drops off Dustin. The other kids are not as affectionate, perhaps, but still gladly ride along with Dustin and don't complain about the older teenager hanging out with them. Well, at least not much, most of the time.

And the world moves on. There are finals, and basketball practice (and trying not to get into more fights with Billy though he's at least calmed down somewhat) and deciding what to do after graduation since he didn't get into any colleges – he could go to a community college, work for his dad, do something else entirely … And on some days, it almost feels normal again.

Which is why his second thought – after “Oh shit!” – is pretty much “Hawkins going back to normal? You poor, delusional fool.” when he opens the door one Saturday afternoon and finds Lucas and Max standing there, their eyes big and scared in pale faces.

“It's Dustin,” Lucas says, and Steve feels his stomach drop down to somewhere around the Earth's core, probably.

***

He convinces them to come inside long enough to explain to him what's going on, even if a big, huge, almost insurmountable part of him wants to grab his bat and his car keys and just go-go-go. Lucas takes a deep breath and launches into the explanation as if any time he's spending on breathing between words could be the difference between life and death. It's Hawkins. It probably is.

They had wanted to meet up at Lucas' place to hang out – Mike and Will were off visiting El since Hopper wisely had decided to restrict the number of kids in his small cabin to no more than three at a time for the most part. Dustin hadn't shown, though, and they hadn't been able to reach him by radio or phone. His mom didn't seem to be home, either – Lucas thinks she's working. They had decided to check for themselves in the end, and on the way over …

“We found this,” Max says, holding out Dustin's trucker hat. Steve takes it from her and swears – Dustin never takes off his hat other than for sleeping and if he really has to. He sometimes thinks it's a pity since Dustin's curls are the most fun to mess with of all the kids' hairstyles but he guesses that's a sentiment shared by way too many aunts, grandparents, cousins and other relatives in his family for a kid to suffer, and Dustin has good reason to be so attached to his hat. In any case, it should be where Dustin is and not lying around halfway between his home and Lucas' place, with Dustin nowhere to be found.

“His bike wasn't at his house,” Lucas adds. “We tried radioing Mike and Will but couldn't reach them. Your place was closer than the police station, and I think Hopper isn't there, anyway, I think he's with the others ...”

“Okay. Okay, let's see what we can do,” Steve says, holding up a hand since it looks as if Lucas wants to barrel on further. “I'm gonna try giving the station a call anyway, we can at least get a message to Hopper. Be right back.”

He taps his foot impatiently as the call goes out and it takes a couple of rings for Hopper's secretary to pick up. Hopper isn't in, she doesn't know when he'll be back. Steve asks her to tell him to call back, and if he doesn't reach him by phone, to radio Lucas. If Flo thinks it's strange that the Chief is in radio contact with a middle-schooler, she doesn't say so. Steve hangs up and stands, trying to think. So, Dustin doesn't have his hat but he seems to have his bike since Lucas and Max didn't find that. That's reassuring, in a way. The image of an abandoned bike conjures up memories of Will going missing, and that's definitely not a road Steve wants to let his thoughts go down, even if they are trying to do so with increasing fervour.

He cards his hands through his hair, trying to decide what to do next. Should he call someone else? Mrs Byers or Mrs Henderson, at work? He decides not to, in the end. Joyce and missing children, that's not a good combination, and he doesn't want to cause Dustin's mom to panic, especially when she's working and can't just leave.

He goes back to the living room where Max is nervously spinning her skateboard on its end. Lucas is sitting still but looks as if he's ready to vibrate out of his skin any moment. “Alright, pipsqueaks,” Steve says and tries not to hear the undercurrent of fear in his own voice, “where do we start?”

***

They take his car back to where the two had found Dustin's hat, after Steve had made a detour to his room to grab the Supercom the kids had given him a while ago, and yes, also the bat from its place next to his bed. Then they stand on the empty road, each of them looking just as much at a loss as the next one – here's the place to start, sure, but where do they go from there? The weather has been dry, and Lucas tries valiantly to look for bike tracks or anything but there isn't really. Steve finally makes the executive decision that they should go in the direction of the town's edge, towards the woods. “Spread out a bit?” Max suggests, putting down her skateboard and setting her foot on it. “I left my radio at home, though.”

Steve frowns but nods. “Keep in shouting distance, then,” he tells her. She nods, squeezes Lucas' hand and zooms off. “Radio as soon as you see anything,” Steve tells the younger boy, then turns and starts off. He'd have liked to keep close to them due to a mix of worry – one missing kid is bad enough – and not wanting to be alone with his thoughts which are busy with a thousand scenarios, one worse than the next, but they need to cover as much ground as possible. He calls Dustin as he walks, looks for anything that might show if someone had come through here recently, tries to listen for the smallest sound. “Come on, buddy, where the hell are you?” he mumbles.

He nearly jumps out of his skin when the radio in his hand crackles to life.”Steve, come in,” Lucas calls, and his voice is hoarse and makes Steve's throat close up. “I found his bike.”

“Fuck!” Steve angles his path towards the direction Lucas has gone into and speeds up. “Any sign of him?” The image of the abandoned bike and Will and the Upside-Down and everything that happened in the last two years is trying to settle on him like a lead blanket of panic – Will survived because he was good at hiding. Dustin is absolutely rubbish at hiding, way too loud and bouncy, he wouldn't last a day in the Upside-Down…

There's a bit of silence at the other end of the connection, then Lucas comes in again. “No. But...” His voice is shaking, and Steve is surprised that it sounds more like anger than fear. “There's a stick in the front wheel, it's totally wrecked. Who… What kind of asshole does that?!”

Steve is outright running by now but feels his panic ease the tiniest amount – a wrecked bicycle is more mundane than the Upside-Down, at least, even if Lucas is right in guessing it wasn't an accident. He reaches Lucas soon enough, sees Max's red hair flying towards them a short way off. The boy is standing next to the bike, biting his lip as he stares into the woods starting just a few steps away from them. Steve can see that even if he's not sure who was responsible for it, there's a good reason why Dustin left his bike behind – the front wheel has a distinct twisted shape to it, a few of its spokes broken and wrapped around a thick stick wedged against the fork. That still doesn't answer the question of why Dustin kept going and where he did go to...

Steve takes another deep breath and forces his clamouring thoughts to the back of his mind again. All of that has to wait until later. He takes a look at the woods, trying to find his bearings. If he isn't totally mistaken, the Byers' home is close by to their left, and Hopper's cabin is somewhere deeper in the woods on the right. And there's the quarry ahead of them, he thinks. “At least we know we're heading into the right direction,” he says, scrubbing his hands over his face and hair. “Still. Fuck. Uh, okay, let's split up again – Hopper's cabin is in that direction, right?” Lucas nods. “Okay, that means we can maybe reach him or the boys when the signal gets strong enough. Max, you take the left – stay close enough so you can still hear me,” he reminds her, and her eye roll is at least a small breath of normalcy. “Lucas, you take the right, and try and reach the others.” He heads towards the woods in what he approximates to be the straightest line from Dustin's bike.

Then it's more walking, calling for Dustin, listening for an answer and the faint sounds of Max and, even more faintly, Lucas doing the same, occasionally Lucas' voice from the radio, trying to hail Hopper or Mike, and trying very, very hard not to freak out. It's mild today for early April but Steve thinks they don't have that much time left before they lose the light, and if they haven't found him by then... Shit. Shit, shit, shit. He reaches the quarry and is kind of glad he's out of the woods which make it feel as if it's already much later and darker. Steve isn't much of an outdoorsy person. Still, the quarry with its foreboding high walls has its own oppressive atmosphere, and he wonders if it's just because he's out of his mind with worry that his stomach twists when he nears one of the free spots at the edge of the path to peer down at the water below. There's a new set of horrible images to go with that sight, and he needs another deep breath before stepping back and continuing his way along the path.

Lucas calls for Mike on the radio again, and this time there is a reply, crackling badly with static on Steve's end. It seems to be clearer for Lucas, and he quickly launches into explaining the situation. Steve stays silent, just listens, mostly following the conversation on Lucas' end. Hopper's deep voice cuts through the static to ask something he doesn't quite catch, but it's enough to make him sigh in relief – he's no longer feeling quite so alone with only two of the kids, trying to cover way too much ground.

He more or less tunes out the rest of the conversation until Lucas calls him: “Steve, do you copy? You got this?” He brings the radio up and answers: “I mostly just heard what you said but yeah, I heard Mike and Hopper. Are they at the cabin?”

“Yes,” Lucas replies, “and El will look for Dustin. She can find him, you'll see!” Steve raises an eyebrow – he's not quite sure what El can actually do, besides closing gates to other dimensions and throwing demo-dogs through windows. But if finding missing persons is on the list and she can find Dustin, he'll gladly buy her enough Eggos to last her a year to show his gratitude. “Okay,” he says, “let me know when she does. Over.”

The path has circled around while descending, and he's almost at the water level when he hears it – though he needs to stop and listen to be sure he wasn't only imagining it. There's a sound nearby as if someone is trying to breathe through hiccups. “Dustin?” he calls, and the sound stills for a moment and then comes back, now sounding more like a whimper. Steve's heart clenches in a mixture of hope and renewed fear. He turns towards the sound and follows it, steps around a big boulder...

And there he is, curled up in a ball behind it, his arms wrapped around his knees tightly. “Dustin!” Steve runs the last few steps, drops down in front of him. The bat and the radio clatter to the ground as he carefully reaches out to touch Dustin's shoulder. “Hey man, I'm so glad I've found you. Are you okay? What happened?”

Dustin doesn't reply, and Steve's stomach sinks again. He's staring straight ahead as if he's looking right through him, and his blue eyes are glassy and huge in his face as he desperately tries to draw in air, trembling as his hands are clenching the fabric of his jeans, and it doesn't seem to be working.

“Hey, hey buddy,” Steve says, trying to sound as calm and comforting as possible. He gently settles one hand on Dustin's shoulder and uses the other to slightly lift the boy's chin so Dustin is more or less meeting his eyes as he crouches before him. “Dustin. Listen to me. C'mon, breathe – nice and slow, in and out. I'm here, it's okay, you're okay.”

That's obviously untrue, though. The right side of Dustin's face looks scraped up and bruised, his lip is split and there is blood crusted around his mouth. He thinks he should radio the others to tell them that Dustin is here, but he can't get himself to turn his attention away from him. Not as long as he looks about two seconds away from passing out or breaking down in hysterical tears, and Steve doesn't think he could deal with any of those options.

But at least he's reacting to Steve's words now, giving an almost imperceptible nod and trying to slow and deepen his breath while he loosens his grip on his jeans and reaches up to hold onto Steve's wrist with one hand instead. It is excruciating to see him like that but all Steve can do is keep up a string of reassuring muttering, pausing only to breathe deeply himself in sync with Dustin. Finally, the boy's eyes become clearer, and he sags back against the stone behind him. “Steve,” he mumbles, voice weak.

“Yeah, bud, I'm here, it's okay,” Steve tries to smile at him even if he feels it must be looking pretty shaky. He dares to take away the hand cupping Dustin's face and snatch up the radio without looking. “Lucas, d'you copy? I've got him, we're at the quarry.”

Lucas' answer comes immediately, with barely contained relief and worry. “Is he okay?”

“Ye- no, not really. He's hurt – not badly, I don't think he needs a hospital,” he hastens to add. “So yeah, at least partially okay.” Steve sighs. “Get Hopper and come here, okay?”

There's a brief pause, then Lucas replies: “Okay, we're coming. Over.”

Steve puts down the radio and focuses on Dustin again, kneeling in front of him and pushing back the curls falling into his forehead. “What happened, bud? Are you hurt, other than your face?”

Dustin's eyes fill with tears, and he sobs: “I... I lost one of my teeth.” Steve winces but is as gentle as possible as he takes his face in his hands, tilting it and pulling up his lip where it has split – sure enough, there is a bloody gap in Dustin's gums beneath it, and Steve swears. Dustin had been so proud of his teeth now that they had finally come in... “Fuck, man, that fucking sucks. I'm so sorry,” he says.

Dustin just nods and then suddenly pitches forward into Steve, his arms wrapping around his middle as he starts to cry in earnest, his shoulders shaking with the force of his sobs. Alarmed, Steve freezes for a moment, his hands hovering in the air, unsure what to do with them, before he eases himself down on the gravel and shifts so that Dustin is sort of laying in his lap. “Shhh,” he makes, stroking his back. “It's okay. I'm here. It'll be okay.” It feels like not enough but it's all he can think of right now.

It takes a while until Dustin's crying peters out, and he just lays there, still holding onto Steve as if he never wants to let go. Finally, he shifts a bit, looking up at him. “It was Troy and James,” he says.

“Huh?” Steve doesn't think he's heard those names before.

“Troy and James,” Dustin repeats. “They're... they're bullies. I was on my way to Lucas, and they... they tried to ram me with their bikes, and I tried to get away but they didn't give up, and then James got a stick and stuck it in my wheel, and I fell...”

Steve may never have heard those names before but they've earned themselves a place on his shit list immediately. “Jesus,” he murmurs.

Dustin's voice is thick with tears but he seems to need to get out what happened now that he's started talking. “And I... I just ran because... Steve,” he swallows hard, “I was so afraid because what if they'd had a knife again? I... I didn't want to get hurt and I didn't want anyone else to get hurt, and... Shit, I'm such a coward, and it would have all been my fault, and...”

“What, a knife again?!” Steve's voice is sharp, and Dustin flinches, looking up at him with big eyes. He hurriedly runs his hand through his curls to soothe him. “Sorry, buddy, that wasn't directed at you. And you're not a coward! Hell, you went and set Upside-Down-infested tunnels on fire, and you kept a demo-dog as a pet, and... Those two assholes hurting people would never, ever be your fault,” he assures him – in the back of his mind, he thinks there must be a longer story behind that, with them having a knife again, and Dustin being afraid they would hurt someone else than him, but he doesn't know if right now is the best moment to unpack it. “So you ran all the way to here?” he prompts carefully.

Dustin nods. “Yeah, until I couldn't run anymore, and I just hid, and when I heard you coming...” he looks away, ashamed. “I thought it was one of them, and I... I panicked, totally, and I couldn't breathe, and... I'm so glad you're here.” He hugs him tight around the middle again.

“Yeah, me too – I was worried sick,” Steve replies, wrapping his arm around his shoulder and hugging him as close as possible at this awkward angle. “But it's over now, you're safe now, okay? You're safe,” he promises, and it's probably a good thing Troy and James are not anywhere near him because he feels capable of murdering them on the spot right now.

“Mmm,” Dustin murmurs, and he watches with concern as the boy's eyes flutter closed. He nudges him gently with a finger. “Hey, you probably shouldn't fall asleep until Hopper is here and has checked you out. Does your head hurt?”

Dustin raises his shoulders in a small shrug. “Mostly my mouth. Okay, everything else, too, but it's not so bad...”

Steve sighs. “Okay, good – still, stay with me, okay?” He remembers vividly the concussion he had gotten from fucking Billy Hargrove and how Hopper had kept waking him up which had been annoying as hell at the time but which he knew had been necessary.

The younger boy mumbles something noncommittal but makes an effort to open his eyes again. He looks utterly exhausted and young, lying in Steve's lap like this, and Steve is torn between the relief of knowing he is safe and not badly hurt and aching for him and what he'd gone through.

***

They stay like this for a while – Dustin drifts off a few times but opens his eyes readily enough when Steve nudges him a bit. He doesn't talk, and while that is worrisome given how much of a chatterbox he usually is, Steve is content to let him be for now. He figures he needs some time to process everything that has happened, and he can't really blame him for it.

Finally, there is the crunch of tires on gravel, and Steve can see the top of Hopper's Blazer as he looks up, coming down the path towards them. The truck stops when it reaches the bottom of the descent, and then there are doors slamming and fast steps, and Lucas and Max are calling: “Dustin! Steve!”

“Here!” he calls back, raising a hand though he isn't quite sure they can see him behind the boulder where they're sitting. He shakes Dustin's shoulder gently. “They're here – wanna get up?”

Dustin nods and shifts, trying to sit up, but the movement makes the colour drain from his face, and he sags against Steve's chest. “Dizzy,” he breathes, and Steve's heartbeat speeds up again.

“No problem, man, I got you,” he says as calmly as possible, sliding his arm under the boy's legs and carefully gathering him up. “I got you.” He stands, just as Lucas and Max come barreling around the boulder and skid to a stop before him. Their faces are drawn with worry, and he gives them as reassuring a smile as he can muster. “Hey, you.”

They both barely look at him, their focus on Dustin. Lucas reaches out and touches his shoulder. “Hey, Dustin,” he says, and his voice is shaking. “Are you okay?”

Dustin turns his head to look at him and manages a small smile. “Yeah,” he replies.

Max steps closer and takes his hand, gives it a short squeeze. “Dude, don't do that again,” she admonishes him. “Steve will go grey by the time he's twenty if you do.”

Steve snorts. “I'm sure you little pests will manage to make me go grey even without stunts like this,” he says. “C'mon, move.” He walks around the boulder to where Hopper is just coming towards them from his car. The Chief gives him a short nod before looking at Dustin, checking him over. “Put him in the car so I can get a better look at him,” he says and steps back, opens the passenger side door.

Steve nods and carefully deposits Dustin on the seat, makes sure he's sitting properly before making room for Hopper. The older man gently touches his cheek on the uninjured side of his face. “Hey, kid,” he says gruffly but it's a tone Steve has come to recognise as affectionate. “How're you feeling?”

“Mmmm... My mouth hurts,” Dustin answers, his eyes sliding shut again for a moment, though he tries to keep them open – it seems to take an increasing amount of effort to do so. “My face... and I guess everything on that side. I fell off my bike. Dizzy, too.”

Hopper grumbles something in reply while he carefully checks the boy over, looks into his eyes and makes him follow his finger for a moment. Steve steps closer and says in a lower voice, trying to keep the other two kids from hearing though they're hovering worriedly close by: “He was having a panic attack when I found him, like, he couldn't breathe.”

The Chief shoots him a sharp look but nods. “I don't think it's a concussion – the dizziness is probably because of shock,” he declares. “Let's get you back to the cabin to get you patched up, okay, kid?” He messes up Dustin's curls. “You can tell us what happened then.” Dustin nods, his eyelids fluttering closed. Hopper steps back, and seeing Steve's concerned look, says: “It's okay for him to sleep a bit – like I said, it doesn't look like a concussion, and he's obviously been through a lot.” He motions to Steve and the two kids. “In you go.”

It's a tight fit in the Blazer's cabin, with three kids and two adults, but they make it work, Max and Lucas crammed between them and Dustin in Steve's lap again, so he can pull the seat belt over both of them. The sun is setting as they drive, and Steve feels exhaustion setting in, now that the fear and worry and adrenaline have faded. Dustin's hair is brushing his chin, and he is warm and heavy against his chest; it's reassuring, feeling him so close, dispelling the last of the horrible what-if images his head had been conjuring up during the search.

***

He carries Dustin again the short way to the cabin; he has woken up when Steve pulled him from the Blazer's seat but is still weak and dizzy, not in a condition to navigate the dark woods. Max and Lucas rush ahead, by now familiar with the path and the traps around the cabin, to give the secret knock. By the time Steve and Hopper reach the porch, the door is open, spilling light, and Steve is immediately mobbed by a horde of worried children until the Chief intervenes and gets them to leave him alone long enough to get Dustin inside and settled on the couch.

Hopper goes to get the First Aid kit, and the kids crowd around the couch as if Dustin will disappear if they leave him out of their sight for only a moment. El is carding her hand through his curls while Will is holding his hand and Mike has a hand on his shoulder, and Lucas and Max sit down on the floor in front of the couch, close enough that they could reach out and touch him even if they don't do so right now. It reminds Steve of another night where the kids crowded so close together, only they were clustered around Will that night, and El wasn't there yet. It makes him smile, and he thinks that even though things are changing, these kids have a special bond that may just survive the turbulences of growing up. He sits down at the other end of the couch as Hopper comes back and makes them move a bit so he can pull up a chair and start cleaning up Dustin's injuries. The discovery of the lost tooth draws sounds of dismay from the kids, all of them intimately familiar with Dustin's pride in his 'pearls'. But at least that's the worst of it, the rest just bruises and scrapes and maybe a sprained wrist. Hopper works slowly and methodically patching him up, occasionally asking him a question in a low voice, his tone gentle. Dustin is more alert now, so sleeping during the drive seems to have done more good than harm, and he's obviously soaking in his friends' affection and the comforting atmosphere of the cabin. Still, when Hopper stops his ministrations and leans back, looks at the boy seriously and asks, “So, what happened?”, he flinches, a miserable, frightened look flitting over his face as if he doesn't want to relive it even though he knows the others have a right to know.

“It was Troy and James,” he replies, and there's a ripple of response through the other boys, Will squeezing his hand, Mike's eyes narrowing to angry slits and Lucas letting out a low growl. The girls look about as oblivious to those names as Steve was, and Hopper throws a short inquisitive glance to the boys.

“They used to bully us all the time,” Mike says. “But they're in high school now, so they've let us alone since last year – plus, they were kinda afraid of us now because of El.” There's something unreadable in his expression as he looks over at her, and the girl's eyes go wide and round. “The mouthbreathers,” she says, and Mike nods. Again, Steve has the feeling there's a story behind it but Lucas, Will and Max don't seem to be in the know, either, while Hopper narrows his eyes thoughtfully.

Dustin shakes his head. “Maybe of El but they're not afraid of me at all,” he says miserably. “They chased me on their bikes and tried to ram me, and then James stuck a stick in my wheel, and I fell. Got up and ran, and I don't know, at some point they stopped following me, I guess...” He turns to look at Mike as he adds: “I just... I just had to think about that day, and I was scared they had a knife or something again, and...”, he swallows, “I know it's stupid because there wasn't even anyone there but I was so afraid they'd hurt... me or... or someone else.” His voice is small, and he can't quite meet Mike's eyes who, in turn, looks as if someone has hit him. El reaches out and takes his hand, her other hand still resting on Dustin's head.

Hopper sighs. “Okay, Mike, care to let us know the full story about what he means with 'that day'?” he asks. The boy looks up at him guiltily but nods and starts explaining how they had been searching for El when the two bullies had chased them into the quarry, how Troy had held a knife to Dustin's face and had demanded that Mike jumps into the quarry, and how he had done it but had been saved by El. Lucas and Will's eyes are huge as they stare at their friend, so it's obviously a story they haven't told anyone else before. Hopper scrubs his hands over his face and lets them drop again. “Jesus, kids...” he breathes. “You broke his arm, then?” he asks, directed at El.

She simply nods. “Yes.” At the same time, Mike asks: “Wait, how do you know...?”

Hopper grumbles: “'cause he came to the police station with his mother, saying something about a girl with a shaved head breaking his arm and making him piss himself. I didn't know about the knife and the forcing you to jump and all that, though. Damn, those two sound like some bad eggs.” He takes a deep breath and shakes his head. “Anyway. I definitely get why you were scared, kid, no reason to feel bad about it. The important thing is, you're okay now.” He gives Dustin's arm a squeeze, then stands up. “I'm gonna give your mom a call – you can rest another bit, and then I'll take you home, okay?” Dustin nods, still looking small and scared but at least a little bit better.

The Chief goes to the back to make the call – the cabin has a phone now though he still tries to use it as little as possible while El is not allowed to be common knowledge yet, and she has strict instructions never to answer it and to use the radio to talk to her friends – and the kids start talking again. It mostly consists of Lucas and Will demanding to know why Mike and Dustin hadn't told them about this and what the hell Mike had been thinking when he did jump, which Steve thinks is a very, very good question. If El hadn't been there, Hopper would have had to pull another body from the quarry, and in contrast to the one the lab people had tried to pass off as Will's, this one wouldn't have been fake. Shit, no wonder being chased by those bullies had brought up bad memories in Dustin. The curly-haired boy is lying on the couch quietly, letting his friends' voices wash over him and drifting off a bit, and Steve is watching him, just taking in again that he is here, he's safe, that he nearly jumps when Hopper comes back and puts a heavy hand on his shoulder.

“Harrington,” he says, “where's your car?”

Steve blinks, then remembers. “Oh, it's still back on the road where we started searching. If you can take me to get it, I can help you get the rest of the munchkins home,” he replies.

“That was the idea,” Hopper says. He gets the kids' attention to inform them where they're going, and Steve gets to his feet. They trudge out to the Chief's car in silence but he doesn't start it once they're in their seats. Instead, he breathes deeply and takes out a cigarette, looking for a moment as if he wants to offer Steve one but thinks better of it. “Y'know, I'd say it's better to deal with teenage bullies than all that Upside-Down shit,” he says, “but knives and forcing people to jump into the quarry, Christ, and that was when they were still in middle school! I don't need more than one teenager in my town willing to kill his schoolmates.” He gives Steve a wry look, and the teenager snorts. “How's that going, by the way?”

“Billy? He's an ass but he's keeping his fists to himself,” Steve says. “I can deal with the rest.” He doesn't always feel as nonchalant about it as he sounds but it's not a lie.

“Good.” Hopper takes a drag of his cigarette, then starts the car. He doesn't need to impress on Steve that he's there to listen and help if not, has said it often enough. “Glad you were there to help today.”

Steve feels a slight blush creep onto his face but tries to play it off with a grin and a shrug. “You know I take my babysitter status seriously.”

The older man barks a short laugh. “That I do, kid, that I do.”

***

When they get back to the cabin, the kids have settled down on the floor in front of the couch, their backs against it, watching something on TV with the volume turned low. Dustin is asleep behind them, a blanket draped over him. He blinks awake when Steve makes the other kids say goodbye to El and get their stuff and Hopper carefully picks him up, blanket and all. “Hey kid, gonna get you home now, okay?” the Chief says in a low voice, and the boy nods against his chest. Steve finds himself thinking that he'd like to take Dustin home himself, just to be extra sure that he gets there safely, but he knows Hopper is better suited to explain what's happened to Mrs Henderson without worrying her too much, and Dustin is in good hands with him.

That's the thought he holds onto after he has dropped off the kids and is on his way back to his house: Even if Hawkins doesn't return to normal after all, and even if 'normal' isn't the same as 'safe', there are people here who do their best to make it safe, who take care of each other when it isn't. Hopper is one of them, and maybe he is, too.

[lilacmoon83]

Dreaming Out Loud

Also on Fanfiction.net and A03

Chapter 164: Flaws

After leaving the Inn and threatening Owen, or Greg Mendell, as he was now calling himself, Regina sat despondently in her car, across from the diner. She knew it would only cause her pain and sure enough, it did, as she watched him come out of the diner with his family, beaming from ear to ear. She still couldn't believe it. Rumpelstiltskin's son and Snow White's daughter were the birth parents of her precious Henry. Fate certainly did have a sadistic sense of humor. She longed for the days before the curse was broken, before David Nolan was awake and Mary Margaret was a lonely, miserable wallflower, and before Emma Swan. Before all that, there had been a time where she and Henry were very happy; a time when she was all he ever needed. But those times were gone and she had been brainstorming on ways to get them back. However, Jefferson had been right about what he told her just a few months ago. The changes that Emma had brought couldn't just be undone. There was no putting back this open can of worms now, no matter how much she wished it.

Earlier that day, she had gone through her mother's things and found a written curse tucked away in one of her gowns. She knew her mother had meant for her to find this particular curse. It was the curse of the empty-hearted. In theory, it had the power to make someone think they loved you. She had instantly thought about using it on Henry, but the price was that she needed the heart of the person she hated most. It was brilliant, theoretically and exactly the thing her mother would leave her. If enacted, this curse would give her Henry and get her vengeance on Snow. But it was an impossible feat. Getting Snow's blood had been difficult enough and that had been with Hermes' help. Her heart...that was a different story entirely. While Persephone could not protect Snow twenty-four hours a day, she was on extra high alert with Hades in town. Which meant that it was likely that she had placed all kinds of protection spells on and around her daughter and family, ones they might not even been aware of. And with protection spells naturally came the one that prevented a heart rip. Regina's magic was powerful, but knew it was really no match for Persephone's.

"Thank you Mother...but unfortunately, it isn't meant to be," she muttered sadly, as she watched the dwarves drive up in David's truck. They got out and tossed the keys to the Prince, before heading into the diner with the former giant. That was odd, indeed, and she wondered what it was all about.

Curiously, she got out of her car once they left and using her magic, she enchanted the road to show her the tire tracks. With that, Regina followed them out into the outskirts of town and found that they ended in an empty field. She got out of the car and found a barrier spell was in place and not one that was strong enough to be Persephone's. In fact, if she had to guess, it was probably a fairy spell. She waved her hand and revealed what the field was hiding. She was shocked to see a full crop of beans...magic beans. She pursed her lips and confiscated a pod that had two beans in it. Perhaps getting revenge on Snow wasn't possible, but maybe getting Henry back could be with these beans...

~*~

Henry bounded into the loft, as they arrived home that evening. Neal was with them, as Emma had agreed to allow him to come tuck Henry in.

"Thanks for letting me come...I know this all still pretty weird," he mentioned. She shrugged.

"You're Henry's dad and he loves you. I only want him to be happy," she replied.

"Hey Gramps...if we're not going back to the Enchanted Forest, then why is Tiny and the dwarves growing the beans?" Henry asked curiously.

"Well...Tiny offered to grow them for us and while we may have decided that Storybrooke is our home now, we also decided that as leaders, it's only right that we offer others a way to leave if they want to," David explained.

"Yeah...and since leaving Storybrooke for others requires spells that aren't easy to replicate, we decided that we could offer this choice instead," Snow added.

"Do you think that if there is enough beans someday that we can visit the Enchanted Forest and then come home?" he asked, looking at his parents. Emma and Neal exchanged a glance.

"Uh...I don't know. But I guess it's something we could definitely talk about," Emma said with uncertainty.

"Yeah...but for now, I think we should get you ready for bed," Neal interjected. Henry nodded.

"Wanna see my comic book collection?" Henry asked excitedly. Neal smiled.

"Sure kid...let's go up and see. You know, I have a pretty good stack myself back in New York. We'll have to compare someday," he mentioned.

"That would be awesome. Mom...do you think we could all go to New York? Grams and Gramps too? Henry asked. Emma smiled.

"Ah well...if things keep calm around here, maybe that trip can happen soon," she agreed tentatively. Neal ruffled his hair.

"Let's go look at those comic books," Neal said.

"For a little while and then brush your teeth and get ready for bed," Emma called, as he bounded upstairs to the loft with Neal following. Emma sighed and Snow went to the kitchen.

"How about some cocoa?" she asked. Emma smiled and nodded, as she sat at the island.

"That sounds great, Mom," she agreed. The loft door opened and Persephone walked through. She shed her coat and hung it up, before joining them in the kitchen.

"Cocoa?" Snow asked. She smiled.

"If you spike it with vodka," she replied. Snow frowned and put the milk down.

"So it was a bad day? I figured considering it's about thirty degrees in April," Snow mentioned. Persephone smiled thinly.

"I'm sorry about that...I've never been very good at controlling my emotions when it comes to Hades...or you for that matter," she responded.

"You confronted him, didn't you?" Emma asked. She nodded.

"I had to...I had to make sure that he's not here to undo the trappings I placed Deimos in," she replied.

"And is he?" David asked.

"He says he isn't...he says he has no intention of releasing him," she answered.

"But you don't believe him," Snow guessed.

"I'm not sure what to believe anymore. Hermes is obviously just as confused by his behavior and even I have to admit that he's...different," Persephone replied.

"Different how?" David asked curiously.

"In many ways. For instance, my constant disdain and defiance of him is usually met with anger. But now he just seems amused by me," Persephone replied.

"That is kind of strange," Emma mentioned.

"And it gets stranger...I think something happened in the Underworld," Persephone said.

"Like what?" David asked. She shrugged.

"I don't know, that's the thing. He says that something happened and that he's protecting me...us by not telling me. Which sounds like his usual load of crap...but I don't know…" Persephone said, as she tried to put it into words.

"I've known him a very long time...I've been married to him for centuries and it's like...he's a different person. I just don't know what to think," she lamented.

"Is there any way you might be able to find out what happened there without asking him?" Emma questioned.

"Short of going there...I'm not sure. I should probably speak to my mother though," she replied.

"Do you think she might come here?" Snow asked curiously. Persephone smiled.

"I know she wants and now that Hades is here, I wouldn't be surprised if she finds a way here. She was the second person that held you, you know," Persephone said, as she took her cup and went up to the loft. Snow smiled, as she watched her go and David pressed a kiss to her hair. Snow served their cocoa and Emma sipped at hers, just as Neal came down the stairs.

"He brushed his teeth and he's all tucked in. Thanks again for letting me do that," he said, as they eyes met. She smiled.

"Henry's pretty stoked about having you in his life...and I promise that we'll work out some sort of custody thing. It's just complicated...with Regina and everything," Emma replied. But he held up his hands.

"Emma...no pressure. He's in good hands with you and your parents," he assured. She nodded.

"You know we need to talk about this though. I mean...the kid would love nothing more than for you to move here to Storybrooke," she mentioned. He nodded.

"I know...and it's something Tamara and I have to talk about. She's...not going to want to move here," he replied.

"And neither do you," Emma realized.

"I honestly don't know. When I first came here, that would have been a hard no. But now...I mean Henry is here and suddenly there is a lot less to leave behind in New York than I remember, save for Tamara, of course," he replied. She nodded.

"I get it…" she said. He sighed.

"Whatever happens...I promise that Henry's not going to get hurt," he said. She smiled thinly.

"That's what matters," she agreed, as she saw him out.

"That was tense," David muttered, as he slid his arms around Snow from behind.

"Yes…" she said sadly.

"You okay?" he asked.

"I just...what if Neal does go back to New York? I'm not sure I like the idea of Henry not being here in town sometimes," she replied.

"Me either...but I'm not sure his grandparents get a say, my darling," he said. She sighed and put their cups in the sink.

Meanwhile, Emma saw Neal out and realized that he had dropped a card on the steps.

"Hey...you dropped this…" she said, as she trailed off and looked at the card.

"Oh...that's nothing," he insisted, as he snatched it away.

"Nothing? Because it looks like something," Emma replied, with a note of anger.

"Emma…" he started to explain.

"Calyn Barlos...Family Attorney at law? That's nothing?" she questioned.

"She's a friend of Tamara's and she gave me the card, but I never had any intention of making that call," he assured. She crossed her arms over her chest.

"Emma...I wouldn't do that to our son! I know how much he loves his family and Storybrooke," he insisted.

"I hope for your sake that's true. People can't find out about this town, Neal. Tamara knows that, right? She knows what could happen if people knew about this place," she argued.

"Of course she knows...this was before I told her everything. She's not going to do anything to put Storybrooke in danger," he insisted. Emma sighed.

"I really hope you're right," she replied. He sighed and tore up the card to hopefully satisfy her.

"I don't need it, so it's gone," he assured, as he went down the stairs and Emma went back inside. She saw her parents in the kitchen and her mother giggled at something her father was whispering in her ear.

"Honey...are you okay?" Snow asked. Emma put on a smile for them.

"Yeah...I'm fine. I think I'll go tuck the kid in and go to bed myself," she replied, as she hurried upstairs. They frowned.

"I don't think she's okay at all," Snow fretted.

"Definitely not...but you know Em. She'll come to us when she's ready. I think this is one of those times that it will be best not to push," he admonished. She sighed. She knew she did that a lot, but it was only because she wanted to solve all her daughter's problems. But she knew that she couldn't and that his approach was right in this instance. Whatever was between Neal and Emma had to be hashed out between them. They could be there to comfort her and give her advice, but only when she came to them. So she would reluctantly take her husband's lead on this one.

"You're right...I do push too much," she agreed. He kissed her cheek.

"She knows it's because you love her so much. And I promise that she'll come to us. She always does," he assured, as he took her hand and led her to their bed. He sat down and pulled her down into his lap.

"I think bed is a very good idea for us too right now," he purred. She smiled and kissed him.

"I agree...but I hope not just to sleep?" she asked coyly. He smirked and pulled the curtains around their bed.

"Oh no...never just to sleep, my love," he agreed, as their lips met again.

As their lips parted, Snow bit her bottom lip and started unbuttoning his shirt. He shed it and let it fall to the floor, before kissing her again. She mewled, as his lips trailed down her slender neck and she gasped, as he cupped her breasts. Her hands went to his belt and she undid it, as their lips parted and he grabbed the hem of her shirt, before pulling it over her head. Her skirt was next and he hooked his arm around her waist, as he slid them up the bed, allowing her head to fall to the pillow. They smiled at each other and the tossed the covers up and over them, as they gave way to their unbridled passion...

~*~

The dream started out quite pleasant. The scene was in his shop with Henry blowing out birthday candles. He, Belle, Snow, and Charming looked on and clapped like the proud grandparents that they were. Emma and Neal clapped as well, with Neal putting his hands on his boy's shoulders and Emma doting on him, before going to cut the cake.

"And now, my boy, for your birthday present. Pick one object from the shop. Anything you like," Gold offered. Henry walked around looking for something and then stopped, as he pointed at the wands.

"That," Henry stated, as he picked up a wand and waved it around.

"Alright, careful buddy. Wands are powerful," Neal warned. Henry turned to Mr. Gold.

"So...how does it work?" he asked.

"Here...let me show you," Rumple replied, as Henry handed the wand to him. Mr. Gold waved it through the air for a moment and then suddenly turned Henry into a ceramic statue with a flick of his wrist. The others present in the shop cried out in terror.

"Gold...why would you do that?!" David demanded to know.

"The Prophecy. The seer said the boy would be my undoing. So I have no choice...I must be his," Rumple answered, as he took his cane and shattered the statue.

~*~

Rumpelstiltskin jolted awake and sat up in bed, as he breathed heavily, with the dream still weighing heavily on him. Truthfully, he hadn't thought about that prophecy in a very long time. But now that he had his son back, he recalled the seer's foreboding warning; that a boy would be his undoing. Fate certainly was a tricky bitch, for in all his foresight, he had never imagined that the boy he had vowed to destroy so long ago would be his own grandson. If the prophecy was to be believed, then his own mortality could be tied to Henry's existence. But if he were to do the unthinkable, then Belle would shun him. She'd never forgive such an atrocity, nor would the others, obviously. And while that had never stopped him before, it made him pause now. He rather liked the life they had now. He had love now. He still had power. He had family and friends once again. But at the same time, if he died, then he would lose that. However, if he killed Henry, his own flesh and blood, then he would lose everyone in his life, not to mention, quite possibly what was left of his darkened soul. Yes...fate was quite the sadist. But perhaps this was one prophecy that he could thwart. After all, the visions of the future weren't always exactly clear.

In a way, he had become a much different version of himself; much like the man he had once been before power. Did he dare hope that the supposed unmaking of him could be more metaphorical than literal? Did he dare entertain that notion? Family and friends had certainly made him softer. He actually did things for them without making deals now. There was no quid pro quo anymore really. He offered help and in turn they had helped him; in fact far more than he had ever thought non-magical persons could.

Regardless of these musings though, Rumple knew that killing his own flesh and blood would cost him everything he now held dear in his life. At the same time, the possibility of his own demise still frightened him deeply as well. He decided that there likely would be no more sleeping tonight and he quietly left the bed so as not to disturb Belle. He proceeded down to the basement. Perhaps things would become more clear after spinning for a while.

~*~

"He did what?!" Greg exclaimed, as they walked along the darkened streets of Storybrooke.

"I'm surprised too...it was so blatant, which proves that they can't hide it. This town is lousy with magic," Tamara confirmed.

"He actually, like teleported you back to New York?" Greg asked in disbelief. She nodded.

"In a puff of smoke, I was suddenly at the top of the Empire State Building and in another puff of smoke, I was back in the diner. But that's not all I found out," she replied, as she pulled out a piece of paper.

"Neal made this for me to try and help me come to terms with this place," she said, as she handed him the piece of paper.

"He actually handed you their identities?" he asked with a snort.

"I know...he's making this too easy. But he trusts me," she replied.

"Snow White and Prince Charming?" he asked. She nodded.

"Emma Swan's parents. He's her deputy and her pixie haired mother is the new Mayor," she answered. He snorted again.

"And it gets better," she added.

"Does it? Did you send this to the Home Office?" he asked. She nodded.

"Already done...they're going to bursting at the seams to mobilize with all this information," she replied.

"What else did you find?" he asked.

"Well...this thirty degree weather isn't just an unfortunate cold snap from the remainder of winter. It's Persephone doing this. I overheard Snow White say her mother wasn't in a good mood today and that's why it's cold. Apparently her emotions can affect the weather; more evidence that magic is evil," Tamara informed.

"Wait...Snow White's mother is Persephone? As in Queen of the Underworld?" Greg asked. She nodded.

"Apparently so…" she responded.

"That wasn't in the Disney version," he joked.

"Wait...does that mean her father is Hades?" he asked. Tamara shrugged.

"I don't know...but Hades himself is here. It's the reason Persephone's mood is quite sour or so I heard," she replied.

"I knew this town was an abomination...but even more so than we thought," he mentioned.

"Don't worry...with this information, I'm certain the Home Office will soon be ready to make a move," she replied.

"Does Neal suspect anything?" Greg questioned.

"Not a thing," she confirmed.

"You're sure?" he questioned again.

"Don't worry about Neal...I'll handle him. Any luck finding your dad?" she asked. He shook his head.

"No...but I know he's here. I'm sure of it," Greg responded.

"We will find him," she assured.

"I know. But one thing at a time. Were you able to get the package here?" he asked. She nodded.

"I did...and we have a deal, but he went and complicated things," she replied.

"What do you mean?" Greg asked.

"I told him to be a nuisance, but he went a step further and got himself arrested. When the time comes, if we expect him to work for us, we'll have to break him out. That won't be easy with Emma Swan and her father running the Sheriff's station," Tamara replied. He smirked.

"Perhaps we'll have to create some distractions for them since our one handed friend isn't available," he responded. She smirked and kissed him.

"Good thinking…" she agreed.

"So now what?" he asked. She shrugged.

"We wait to hear from the Home Office. In the meantime, we can continue to search this town for your father," she replied, as he kissed her again and they headed back to the Inn.

~*~

Jefferson pulled back from looking through his telescope and was startled by what he had seen. He had been unknowingly keeping an eye on their visitor that had crashed into town. He didn't trust Greg Mendell and didn't like that he hadn't made his way out of town yet. And apparently his mistrust was warranted, in more ways than one. He needed to talk to Gold and David first thing in the morning. Because not only did their stranger, Greg Mendell, know this Tamara, but she was cheating on Neal with him. And he had been in this town long enough to know that it was likely there was even more to it than that. Even if there wasn't though, Neal still deserved to know that his fiance was obviously lying to him, probably about a great many things…

~*~

Morning dawned in Storybrooke, bringing about a new day. The April weather prevailed and the temperature was decidedly more tolerable that day, having risen twenty-five degrees already. Henry took that opportunity to fill Snow's bird feeders for her in the small garden, just outside the apartment building. He had an appreciation for the flora and fauna like she did, which should have been no surprise, given his roots and connection to Persephone.

"Good morning, Henry," Regina greeted.

"Um...what are you doing here?" the boy asked.

"I've missed you and I wanted to show you something," Regina replied, as she took something out of her pocket.

"Your family has been keeping this from you, darling. They've been growing magic beans in secret," she said. Henry shrugged.

"It's not really a secret. Gramps just said that we shouldn't tell people in case the beans don't grow. And anyway, I kind of guessed, because Tiny is here and he's a giant," Henry responded.

"So...they did tell you," she muttered.

"Yeah, but it's not a big deal. Mom Emma says that Storybrooke is our home now. And Grams and Gramps agreed with her. I think they just want to give other people a choice," Henry responded.

"Henry...I'm not sure you can trust that. With Hades here, your family may want to take you away. They may try to take you away and leave me behind," Regina said.

"No! That's not true! I asked them and they told me it was for others if they want to leave. Mom Emma said we might take a family trip to New York, but then we'd come home, here to Storybrooke," he refuted.

"But Henry...what about your home with me? What if we went somewhere together where they didn't see me as the Evil Queen? Think about it...I know how much you'd like to go back to the Enchanted Forest. We could do that together and start over," she said.

"Without the rest of my family?" he asked.

"I know it would be hard at first, but they will never see me as anything but the Evil Queen. I can't start over and be the hero that you want me to be with them," she replied. He shook his head.

"That's not true...Grams knows there is good in you, just like me. But you just keep hating her and trying to hurt her," he said in exasperation.

"Henry…she's the one that made me the Evil Queen," Regina insisted.

"No! You made yourself that, because you hurt people! But it's not too late! I know that if you really try to be good that they'll forgive you," he pleaded. Regina looked hurt.

"We don't need them, Henry. It can be good with just the two of us, just like before," she insisted.

"Why do you keep saying that? Are you planning something? Are you going to hurt everyone?" he asked. Another look of hurt passed over her features and she waved her hand over him to freeze him momentarily. With a quick spell, she extracted those memories from the last few minutes and erased them, before unfreezing him.

"Mom? What are you doing here?" Henry asked. She shrugged and smiled.

"I just came to say hello...I've missed you. Why don't you show me that bird feeder," she requested. Henry looked encouraged by her interest and then proceeded to show her.

[theladylikesfics]

Afternoon Pick Me Up

Okay so after my last drabble request for G’Anna, I felt like we all needed some holy water. So this is all fluff no smut sweetness.Drabble #12

It was your normal routine, every day at 12:45 you would walk the two blocks down to this amazing family run café that had been in business for over 50 years now. You loved it not only for the amazing food and beverages but for the historical significance of being one of the first black own business in your town post Civil Rights Movements. You absolutely loved the Clark family and what they did for the community, what they represented and comfort food that reminded you of the best parts of home. The family matriarch Alice Clark know affectionately as Alice the Great was 80 and still going strong but you like other regulars and family members had started to notice Alice The Great slowing down a bit. Still feisty as ever she insists on both working the front counter interacting with all of her customers and creating all the delicious treats that come out of the kitchen. Over the course of past weeks, you noticed a new face in the café. He was undeniably handsome. His face was round with full distinctive cheekbones that took over his whole face when he smiled. His eyes were bright, playful and mischievous. You could definitely see a hint of cockiness in him but for some reason on him, it attracted you to him just a little bit more. There was also something familiar about him that you couldn’t quite put your finger on. It was on the tip of your mental tongue but you just simply shrugged it off.  

You couldn’t help but steal the occasional glance at him while waiting for your order. Sometimes it felt as though he too was stealing glances when you accidentally made eye contact one day. The blush was imminent, and you felt it throughout your whole body. You quickly gathered up your order and left to go back to the office. Sitting at the cozy outdoor patio set you were so distracted by split-second eye contact you forgot about your slice of banana pecan bread and lemon hibiscus tea. It was just a few seconds but it felt like magic. You took a deep breath and sighed at the thought of the handsome stranger. “This is crazy, I don’t even know his name and already I’m wondering what that mouth do…” you gasped suddenly realizing you’d said your thoughts out loud while still at work as you alarm on your watch sounded alerting you your break was about over. It was also then than you looked at your neglected snack and drink and shook your head at yourself in disbelief that you were so wrapped up you’d forgotten to eat.

 That following weekend you had a girl’s trip planned so your normal daily trips to the café didn’t occur. On Monday afternoon you discovered that for some reason you seemed more excited to go into work that day. You got up a little earlier spent a little more time on hair and make up than you normally would followed by trying on different outfits before deciding on what to wear. Weren’t entirely sure why you just chalked it up to still feeling yourself from a fabulous girl’s weekend. Right before your break, you took a moment to give yourself a double check your make-up in the mirror. Touching up your foundation a little bit and reapplying your lippy while still at your desk. “All I want to know is what is his name and when are we meeting him?” You turned to look at friend and co-worker Jai giving her a quizzical look. “Oh don’t play dumb now. All weekend long I knew something was up with you. We were at KCon NYC, fine men as far as the eye could see. You had several flirting with you, offering to take us out for soju and you couldn’t have been more pre-occupied and not really interested. Now I didn’t say anything because I know you’re still kinda sensitive since you and Jooheon split up but that was a whole 8 months ago, but whats up?! There’s a change in you. I see it. I know that’s the ‘I’m scoping a man’ outfit you’re wearing, I just want to know who he is?!” “What. No. Listen I’m just feeling really good after our weekend and wanted to dress up a little bit more today that’s all. As for the random guys from KCon there were way to sketchy to go and have soju with in the mood I was in after all the bottles we had already consumed. And I checked my make-up because its kinda hot in here and I don’t want to go around looking like my face is melting. Now I’m heading over to The Corner Stone do you want me to bring you something back?” “Bring me back a slice of lemon pound cake and tell Alice The Great I said hi and I’ll see her soon.”

While making the short walk to the café you thought to yourself had you gotten dressed up for the handsome stranger? Was he the reason you weren’t really feeling anyone from the past weekend? As you approached the door you gave your reflection a quick once-over before you walked inside. You couldn’t deny the tinge of disappointment you felt as you looked to the left and didn’t see the handsome stranger sitting in his usual spot. “Hey Baby Girl! I got your favorite chocolate pound cake today!” You smiled brightly and laughed as Alice the Great greeted you herself from behind the counter. “Oh and you look so cute today all dressed up and glowing  “Thank you, Ms. Alice. Its so good to see you! I’ll have that along with a sweet ice coffee, oh and a slice of lemon pound cake and a lemon hibiscus tea please.” “Lemon pound cake and a lemon tea, I know Jai’s order anywhere and why is she not here with you today?” It always amazed you how she still remembered just about all of her customers by name as well as their favorite orders. “Yes ma’am that is for Jai and has lunch with a client but you know she’s can’t resist your pound cake Ms. Alice.” “I was hoping I would see you today. ATG, I’ve got this order.” The velvety baritone of the voice wrapped around you like a cloak. Turning slightly you came face to face with the handsome stranger who was smiling brightly at you while carrying on friendly banter with Alice The Great. You wanted to speak but being so up close to him, seeing just how handsome he was and how incredible he smelled you felt your mouth go dry and you brain became hazy as you tried to form words. “Oh oh no I couldn’t-“ “Hush child, yes you can. Thank you Kwon. Cash only I don’t trust you” Alice The Great said with a laugh. “Alice The Great! I caught you cheating at cards last night but I’m the one that can’t be trusted.” You looked back and forth confused at the conversation between the two not quite understanding what was going on. “G’Anna, have you met Kwon yet? He’s my assistant.” “I’m actually her nurse but she treats me like her assistant.” Kwon said with a big laugh. “Hi, I’m Kwon Hyuk-Woo or Loco. My friends call me Loco. Please call me Loco.” “You two go sit down, and I’ll have Cameron bring over your order.” Just as you’re about to protest Loco’s phone rang and he excused himself. “Its about time you two stopped making googly-eyes at each other and finally say hello. I mean it has been nearly two months if you young people are going to flirt at least use your words. Y’all spend so much time on those phones of yours I think sometimes y’all forget how to use your words. Your faces aren’t those little picture thingies yall send to each other” Alice The Great scolded you with a laugh and a playful smile. “Now I happened to know he’s got a crush on you because he asked me about you and when he didn’t see you this past weekend he was honestly a bit sad and I told him to be bold the next time he saw you and if he didn’t bust a move I would do it for him. Hmmph” “Ms. Alice!” You were honestly surprised by all the information octogenarian had just laid before you. “Now go sit down and have a nice conversation with him, he’s a nice young man and he raps, I didn’t understand it but he was having fun so go talk to him.”

Not one to argue with your elders you smiled, thanked Alice The Great once again and walked to take a seat outside under a patio umbrella. To your surprise, it wasn’t Cameron who brought out your order but Loco himself. The way he looked at you made you completely melt, you’re natural reaction was to simply blush and look off to the side as you try to gather up your thoughts. “Why are you so cute when you blush? Last week Thursday you had on this amazing green top with those grey pants and I couldn’t keep my eyes off of you and you caught me staring, and just when I thought I would be brave and speak to you, you got your order and ran out. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable; that was never my intentions you are simply beautiful and I couldn’t resist taking you in. Ms. Alice also caught me looking and called me out on it.” He said with a huge laugh and smile causing you to laugh and breaking the nervousness that you had. Then it hit you, the thing that had been itching at the back of your mind since the first time you laid eyes on him you knew him, well not exactly knew him, but you knew of him. Your eyes went wide as your mouth dropped open and the realization fully set in. “Oh My God You’re LOCO!” You wished that you could have taken a picture of the shock on his face as you recognize him. “Oh my God, you’re Loco, you’re Da Da Da, Hold Me Tight, Movie Shoot Loco!!!!” Taking a long sip of his drink he flashed you a bright smile. “Oh, so you already know what my mouth can do. I’m sorry I’m just playing, I’m really kinda surprised you know my work.” “I’m surprised you’re moonlighting as a nurse.” He laughed at your remark clearly enjoying the banter “Well every up and coming has a regular hustle. Being a nurse is mine. I was really close to my grandparents growing up so I’ve got a bit of a soft spot for the elderly. I would pop in here from time to time whenever I was in the neighborhood and Cameron asked if I wouldn’t mind taking the job of looking after Alice The Great so of course I said yes.” The alarm on your watch sounded reminding you that your break was nearly over, his smile lightly waivered at the signal that your time together was up. “So I guess that means you’ve got to go back to work huh?” “Sadly it does but you know, I’ll see you tomorrow?” “Why not seeing me tonight. I’ve been wanting to ask you out to dinner for a few weeks now and I’m officially shooting my shot. I would love to take you out to dinner tonight.” You couldn’t hide the surprise and excitement in your voice as you quickly accepted the invitation quickly exchanging information and hurrying back off to make it to work. You practically floated into your chair as Jai sat with her head tilted giving you her best judging you quizzical expression. “So you going to tell me what happened so do I have to pry it out of you?” “Umm well, I may have a date… later tonight…” “I KNEW IT!!! Who is it and tell me everything!” Just as you were about to explain about your handsome mystery stranger the clearing of a throat gathered your attention. Loco was standing in front of your desk with a mixed bouquet of lovely spring flowers. “I couldn’t wait to see your face again and find out where you wanted to go to dinner tonight.” Before you could give a proper answer you couldn’t help but lower your eyes as a blush took over your whole being and an admiring chuckle from Loco. “Damn why are you so cute when you blush…”