#summer without sly should be like illegal

[inspector-montoya-fox]

hi how have you been?

[poly-pan-0118]

Between Blue Flames and Red Wings

Pt2

You quickly dropped your hand and your face felt as if it was lit on fire. “Keigo, what are you doing here?” You asked in a surprised voice. 

“I wanted to make sure we were still on for tomorrow lil dove” Keigo said smugly, adding that little term of endearment deliberately side eyeing Touya. You wondered why he had to come by and ask you this at almost two in the morning when just a few hours ago you both planned this out. Then you caught the way he and Touya were glaring at each other, and it hit you. You remembered back to the summer you stayed here. Shouto had a little crush on you and you thought it was cute how the young boy would bring you flowers from his mother's garden and hold doors for you. Keigo on the other hand was a jealous brat about it. He would taunt Shouto and tease him. Tell him he was too young to have a girlfriend. Keigo was a sweetheart to you, but he was a jerk to Shouto. Well Keigo, time for a taste of your own medicine.   

“Thank you, Y/N,” Touya said standing up. His hand ghosted yours as if he wanted to hold it but changed his mind at the last minute, “but I think it’s time I go” he said turning towards the door and looking at Keigo. Did he want to leave you? No. Did he want to leave you alone with Keigo? Hel no. Keigo knew how to push his buttons and he knew it. He didn’t want to risk acting a fool in front of you. 

“Touya wait” you said, reaching to grab hold of his hand before he could step away. “Would you, maybe wanna come with us?” you asked. You could hear Keigo take in a deep breath as Touya eyed you quizzically. “The Blossom fest I mean” you explained yourself. You watched as Touya’s face turned three different shades of pink and then, he smiled. Touya Todoroki smiled, and you thought your heart melted right then and there. 

“You want me to come with you?” he asked meekly, his voice barely audible. 

“Ahem, and me,” Keigo interjected, sounding almost like a question.

“Of course,” you said a little too excitedly, “I mean, I need someone to show me around. I don’t wanna be stuck with this big oaf all day” you said, gesturing to Keigo with a sly smile. 

“Hey, I’m right here you know,” Keigo said, grasping his chest, feigning heartache. 

“I don’t know,” Touya said thinking about it. He wanted nothing more than to hang out with you all day but did he really want to watch Keigo make moves on you all day long and furthermore watch you fall for them?

“Please Touya?” you pleaded and gave his hand a gentle squeeze. Now how can he say no to that? Your pouty face, letting his name roll off your tongue so sweetly. That look should be illegal for the things it did to his heart. 

“Okay” Touya said, watching your eyes light up and he smiled again. He couldn't remember the last time he smiled so much in one day. He wondered what spell you put on him. “Umm, I should get going then” he said trying to walk away but you still held his hands, “Oh, what time are we leaving?” 

“Eight o’clock on the dot bro” Keigo said smiling, “Don’t be late or we’ll leave without you” Touya looked over to you quickly, his eyes darting back and forth between yours. You saw his worries and swiftly corrected Keigo. 

“We won’t leave without you” you rolled your eyes at Keigo, silently chastising him. You rubbed your thumb over his hand to silently reassure him and he gave it a little squeeze again. Touya looked at your lips and then to your eyes and back to your lips. He wanted to kiss you. You knew he wanted to kiss you. You bit your bottom lip at watching his face overcome with desire. 

“Well, this has been fun,” Keigo mumbled. His fake smile dropped and he actually looked peeved at what he was witnessing.  “We have to get up early to get a good spot”

Touya lifted the hand you were still holding and brought it to his lips. “Goodnight, angel” he said with a smirk and gave you a small peck on the back of your hand. Touya thought it was only right he’d give you a pet name too. Something that suits you better than Dove. He took his leave, not even acknowledging Keigo as he walked by. 

“Goodnight, Y/N” Keigo said in a low voice then turned to leave, leaving you standing there stunned at what all that just happened. You didn’t realize you had brought your hand that Touya kissed to your mouth and held it to your lips. You asked yourself what exactly would have happened tonight if Keigo hadn’t interrupted. You weren't imagining things, right? You saw the want in Touya’s eyes. But what about Keigo? The way he was acting towards Touya, clearly, he was jealous and trying to show off in front of him. 

When Keigo found out you were coming to visit he immediately canceled everything he had planned for the summer not knowing for sure the exact date you were going to come. When he heard you had arrived, he rushed to the Todoroki’s home and found you sitting next to the garden pond. He was a bit surprised to see Touya there. He hardly ever visited home. When you stood up and ran over to him it seemed as if time itself stopped. He got lost in your embrace when you hugged him. It was soft and warm, and he didn’t want to let you go. Standing before him doing a little twirl showing off how much you’ve grown made his heart flutter and his face heat up. He always thought you were beautiful but now you were… Perfect.  

Keigo wanted to grab you and keep all your attention when you chased after Touya. He didn't understand why you gave in to his little temper tantrum. Far as he knew, you never really talked to him before. So why the sudden interest? Keigo thought he had it made when you agreed to go to the Blossom festival with him, but then you had to go and invite him.  He was devastated. Keigo doesn't know why he found himself at your room in the middle of the night but he’s glad he did. Standing outside your door thinking of what to say he heard your sweet voice.

“Touya, look at me please” 

Touya? What the fuck is he doing there? 

Keigo’s mind was racing. Your door was ajar, so he slowly peeked in. He felt bad for snooping, but he couldn't resist. The temptation was right there. He quickly wished he hadn’t. You were holding Touya’s face in your hand and he so badly wished it was his you were touching. He watched as both your bodies unknowingly drifted closer. He had to do something. 

Keigo huffed as he laid there in his bed thinking of what he walked in on. Did he still have a chance with you? Keigo was a natural born winner. He never lost at anything, and he wasn’t about to now. 

When Touya reached his room he flopped on the bed, his long legs dangling halfway off. He brought his fingertips to his lips. I Kissed her. No, it wasn't your lips but Touya still kissed you. His lips touched your skin and he loved every moment of it, and he wanted more, so much more. He wanted his lips to feel every inch of your body. His cock began to throb as he imagined what you would taste like. Palming himself he got lost in his thoughts, daydreaming of what you’ll look like in those dresses tomorrow. 

Back in your room, you finished doing some unpacking and straightening up. The whole time you replayed what happened with Touya tonight. His face felt so warm in your hand. His scars felt so rough, and you couldn't imagine the pain he was in. You wanted to ask him what happened to receive such burns but thought it best to let him tell you when he felt comfortable doing so, if he ever did. You laid in bed on your back propped up a bit with your pillows staring at the two dresses you had hanging on the closet door. Which one would you choose to wear?

[nbrook29]

robbe 1️⃣8️⃣

Warning: This is smutty, proceed with caution if it’s not your jam ;)

ao3

If anybody asked Robbe, bad weather in the summer should be illegal. Because what the hell? He needs sun rays and blue sky like he needs oxygen, he wants 30+ degrees temperatures and not a single cloud above, and he always welcomes it with all the small inconveniences it brings along, like clammy skin mere minutes after showering or freckles covering his nose and arms. So when it’s August and it’s raining, sorry, pouring buckets, sue him if he turns into a whiny mess for a bit. That’s just who he is.

Or, that’s who he was. Because right now, lying on a soft cloud-like throw blanket in a not-his t-shirt and sweatpants, head a mess of wild damp curls, fuzzy socks on his feet tangled with another pair, he’s feeling pretty good.

Even though the original scenario for his birthday was supposed to be different.

It all started at 12:00 am sharp with a dorky text from Sander because of course it did.

Sander: Hey there you sexy thing

Heard you're legal now 👅 

Robbe: Omg sander 🙈 

Sander: Yes, that's what you'll be screaming today during our own little celebration 😈

 Robbe almost spat out the water he was drinking, face burning hot as he tried to assess whether anybody was paying him any attention.

 Robbe: SHSHDHSHSJSJS STOP 

Sander: I'll do that thing you like 😏👅 

Robbe: IM WITH MY PARENTS DICKHEAD 

Sander: Am I bothering you cutie? 😏 

Robbe: Yessssss 😩 my face is all red they're gonna know what's up 

Sander: I think *I* know what is up 😏🍆 

Robbe: 🤣 GO COOL OFF 

Sander: Hehe

No but for real now

Happy birthday! 🥰🥳😘❤🎂

I love you SO much ❤❤❤💯 

Robbe: Thank youuuu baby 😊😘 

Sander: Can't believe you're an adult *wipes a tear*

You'll always be my baby tho ❤ 

Robbe: Haha yes ❤❤ 

Sander: I'll be waiting for you at 4 pm 

Robbe: But where?? 

Sander: 😌 

Robbe: Sanderrr tell me 

Sander: Nope 

Goodnight 😌

 Sander absolutely loves to tease him and keep him at the edge of the seat which is why he told him the place only half an hour before their meeting, for which Robbe intended to tell him off. That is until he actually got to Park Spoor Noord and saw his boyfriend lounging on grass, blanket underneath him, surrounded by Robbe’s favorite food and wearing the most charming smile as soon as their eyes met.

And he got him a sunflower. A sunflower. How cute is that?

Needless to say, there was no telling off, Robbe didn’t exactly find time for it between kisses and laughs and Sander feeding him croques and fries and cupcakes (which Sander baked and decorated himself, swearing for dear life the small thingies made from frosting on top were not dicks, but Robbe knows him too well to believe him).

And then all hell broke loose and the storm that had been loudly talked about in the media came to Antwerp and made a puddle out of the two of them.

They looked really miserable, but somehow Robbe couldn’t care less as they were running to Sander’s house holding hands, water in their shoes, the sunflower cradled carefully underneath his shirt, huge smiles on their faces as they finally got there, tripping in their haste to get inside.

The hot shower that followed next and Sander taking the lead oh so well will definitely rank in the top 5 moments of Robbe’s life. He’s very grateful Sander’s parents are on holiday in London because he’s not sure he’d ever be able to look them in the eyes otherwise.

Afterwards, Sander made them ice coffee and handed Robbe his real gift which turned out to be a long weekend in Paris a week from now, shutting him up with a kiss when Robbe was about to protest and complain about it being too expensive.

Since the concert they were supposed to go to was canceled due to poor weather conditions, they resorted to eating cake in Sander’s bed and watching the show Robbe had been talking about for weeks now. Sander, being the thoughtful and amazing boyfriend that he is, graciously agreed to Robbe’s birthday wish and sat him down between his legs, kissed the side of his face, brought his laptop closer and pressed play, as Robbe made himself comfy in his arms, the smile that originated at midnight not slipping off even for a second.

***

Another thunder strikes the night sky and Robbe jumps involuntarily, only a little, more from shock than actual fear, but it doesn’t stop Sander from tightening his arms around him, lips grazing delicately the lobe of his ear.

“Don’t worry, Robin, I will protect you,” he whispers with a teasing note in his voice, grunting when a well-aimed elbow meets his side.

“Shut up, I’m not scared.”

Sander’s only reply is a low chuckle and a kiss on that sweet spot under Robbe’s ear that never fails to send a shiver down his spine. Without barely having to move at all considering how close they are, he tilts his head and noses along Sander’s defined jaw, leaving a peck or two on his cheek.

“Now shush, I can’t focus.” He unceremoniously turns away from Sander’s searching lips, a sly grin on his face when he hears an affronted huff.

“Oh I see how it is, you-”

“Shhhh, Wille is talking.”

Robbe loves to be a little shit sometimes, especially if he wants to get a certain reaction from his huffy other half.

“Look how cute he is.” He has to press his lips hard to keep the giggle in when Sander whines in protest.

“Stoooop, why are you being mean to me.” He now has a full-blown pout on his face. “Jerk.”

The laughter finally comes out and Robbe pauses the show, cooing at Sander’s little frowny face and brushing the runaway strands away from his forehead, leaning up to press a kiss there too.

“It’s okay, I still think you’re the cutest prince in the entire kingdom.” He runs a thumb over his jutting lower lip, kissing it once, twice, three times, until the corners of Sander’s mouth pull up.

“Whatever. Simon is cuter than the other one anyway.”

Robbe grins cheekily. “You just think that because he has curly hair like me.” Sander’s jaw drops at that.

“Wow,” he exclaims, voice faux-scandalous as he shakes his head at Robbe. “Someone’s cocky today.” 

“It’s my birthday so it’s allowed.” Winking at him obnoxiously, he turns back to the screen, hands reaching for Sander’s arms to wrap them around himself again as he settles in his embrace with a content sigh before pressing play.

Sander’s quiet behind him for a second, and then his lips touch his ear again, tongue slightly peeking out to play and lick the shell of his ear with just the tip, hot air hitting Robbe’s skin turning his insides into mush, butchering his focus again just as Sander purrs, “I think it’s hot when you’re like that.”

There’s something important happening on screen, but Robbe can’t make any sense of the subtitles because Sander’s lips continue their path down the column of his throat, stopping for a second to suck a kiss in the middle, killing any rational thought Robbe might have had. His hand rushes to Sander’s head to keep him there without his permission, eyes closing as he sighs when the kiss turns into licks and nips to the thin skin.

“Do you think he could kiss you and touch you like that?”

The question breaks the fog in Robbe’s brain for a second, and he barks a laugh at the slight possessiveness in Sander’s voice that’s poorly hidden under a joking tone. 

“Like what?” He presses, excitement bubbling in his stomach when one of Sander’s hands sneaks underneath his t-shirt, fingers grazing the skin and leaving goosebumps in their wake as they finally reach the place Robbe needs them most. 

“Like that.” He flicks his nipple with those black-polish covered nails of his that make him look so hot Robbe’s head spins. “For starters.” He keeps it up, tugging and pinching unhurriedly, with a dirty smirk growing on his face that Robbe can just feel on his collarbone, and he pulls on his hair as he arches his back a little, seeking more of those skillful fingers.

With his hooded eyes, he can see Sander closing the laptop and putting it away quickly before his other hand joins in the fun, a featherlight touch to the growing bulge in his sweatpants, nothing more than teasing for now.

When Sander’s teeth tug at his earring, Robbe lets out a frustrated whine because it’s too much and not enough at the same time, and his boyfriend reads him like a book because he pulls the t-shirt off him to gain full access, mouth latching on his neglected nipple just as his hand dives inside his pants. It doesn’t grant him any relief though, bypassing his dick completely and traveling lower, caressing the soft skin, one finger running back and forth without reaching any further, and Robbe grabs Sander’s thigh in desperation.

“Sander...”

“You didn’t answer me,” Sander whispers in a sweet sweet voice.

“Whaa?” It takes a second for Robbe to understand what he’s asking and he would laugh if his body wasn’t on fire, Sander playing him like a violin.

Also, this playful possessiveness is getting to him, whether he likes it or not.

He does though. Like it.

Oh fuck, he likes it so much.

“Tell me, baby,” Sander breathes into his mouth as he reaches for something Robbe doesn’t see, and he can hear in his voice how it affects him too, can feel him against his lower back, rubbing himself off with minuscule moves, clearly struggling to hold back. 

“You, just you-, fuuuuck,” Robbe’s cut off when two lubed fingers press inside him at the confession, back arching slightly, the feeling so intense he keens and searches blindly for Sander’s lips. Thankfully, Sander doesn’t waste any time and plunges his tongue inside his mouth, swallowing the little whines that escape them with each twist of his fingers.

The rocking behind him gets faster and this is not how Robbe wants this to end so he breaks the kiss, ignoring Sander’s protests as he pulls away from him, only to pull his pants off completely, green eyes following his every move like he’s ready to pounce, and the need inside Robbe’s stomach only grows. He tugs impatiently at Sander’s sweatpants, biting his lip when his hard cock slaps his abdomen, the smirk dancing on Sander’s lips at his reaction liquefying his insides and he crawls closer to him, needing his touch to ground him. 

“You’re still good to go?” He loves how even when it’s hot and heavy Sander still remembers to check in with him.

“Uh-huh,” is the only thing he can come up with now, especially when Sander’s hand settles on his hip bringing them so close there’s no space left between them, guiding his movements just like Robbe likes. He kisses his glistening neck, licking the sweat of his body as Robbe reaches behind to position his slick cock at his entrance, forehead resting against Sander’s as he sinks down fast.

He gasps at the feeling of fullness because it’s always a lot, but Sander’s hands are always there, brushing his sides in a comforting motion, even when his own body is probably screaming at him to move.

“Happy birthday to me,” Robbe lets out a shaky chuckle that ends up in a gasp when Sander laughs too and involuntarily moves inside him. He’s quick to lick into his lips and distract him from the momentary discomfort, and once he’s done with him, the overwhelming need is back double force. 

Sander notices right away, guiding Robbe’s hips to keep grinding for a while before planting his feet on the bed and holding them in place giving several hard jabs that make Robbe hide his face in his neck, cries leaving his mouth with each thrust.

“Like that?”

Robbe just nods helplessly, mouth leaving a wet trail on his skin, but Sander doesn’t seem to mind because he continues his pace, completely taking over once Robbe’s thighs give out and turning him into a mess.

“You’re so hot like this, fuck.” The strain in Sander’s voice tells him he’s getting close so he goes back to bouncing, meeting him in the middle, and it only takes a minute for things to become too much, Sander’s uncoordinated jerks when he’s coming triggering Robbe’s orgasm too.

They stay like that, cooling off while kissing lazily, tongues sliding against each other, but without a rush for now.

Sander pulls back first, their lips smacking when they disconnect. "I'm sorry today didn't work out." Scrunching up his face, he reaches to comb through Robbe's hair consolingly. He leans into the touch before cuddling even closer, seeking warmth when the cold air makes goosebumps appear on his heated skin.

"But I loved today, really. We can go to a concert another time." He kisses the underside of his jaw, sighing dreamily. "And I can't wait for Paris with you."

[hoochieblues]

“I might never get another chance to say this.” for handers?

Thank you! I bring absolutely unrepentant tooth-rotting m!Handers fluff from the Justice in Surrender universe, and I am not sorry. Well, mostly not.

for @dadrunkwriting

T | ~2k | Anders/Hawke, Anders & Isabela (I love them yr honor)

Because it is indeed still summer! It's not a Summerday party until you've watched two idiots in love eyefucking on the dancefloor.

_____________________________________________

The bar is wild tonight. Varric’s fault; he’s throwing a party, half to celebrate Summerday and half to celebrate striking some massive deal that’s given him an advantage over yet another Merchants’ Guild asshole he dislikes. He does love to score a point. Anders wouldn’t begrudge anyone that, or the excuse for a good time, but it feels a little bittersweet, like the inch-and-a-half of questionable wine in his wooden cup.

“Oh, Maker’s cock, what’s up with you?” Isabela demands, throwing herself onto the bench beside him. She smells of flowers, wine, and the crush of bodies she’s been dancing amongst. Sprightly fiddle and tabor music makes the wooden walls shake. “Too many people having too much fun for you?”

Anders wrinkles his nose. True, he’s staying out of it—sitting comfortably on the fringe of things, his feet up on an empty chair while he watches the fray—but even Justice at his most all-work-and-no-play couldn’t hate this festival atmosphere. Isabela looks breathless and warm, and his gaze lingers on the bright orange gerbera thrust behind her ear.

“I’m not against fun,” he protests, amused that his noticing the flower has her reaching up to touch it, fingers gentle on the stunning vermilion petals. He’s not sure she realises she’s doing it. “You know me better than that.”

“Half of you,” she snipes, though without heat, and kicks half-heartedly at his legs.

For the briefest moment, she looks almost bashful as she touches the flower, and her attention wanders back to the floor, where Merrill’s laughter echoes among the flutes, fiddles, and drums. She’s visible for a moment, whirling through the crowd in the arms of some friend of hers from the alienage: an elven man with intricate blond braids and a smile that could light the Deep Roads. Well, Merrill can make anyone smile like that.

Anders wonders where she picked the flowers from this time, not that it matters. The colour suits Bela well, anyway.

“Told you,” he says, peering into his wine, “there’s no halves. It’s just—”

“Yeah, yeah.” She waves a hand. “So, do you want a proper drink? Or are you at least going to dance?”

Anders cringes, pulls a horrified face. “Dance? Oh, no, I—”

“Yes! Dance with me, you miserable sod.” A sly grin splits her face. “Orrrr…. Hawke’s dancing. Dance with him. You’ll make his whole summer.”

The heat of a blush crawls traitorously up Anders’ neck, flooding his cheeks before he can do anything about it. Isabela reaches into the pouch strapped to her ankle and brings out a flask of something that’s probably illegal in most places except the high seas. He swears he can see the air shimmer above the neck of the flask when she uncorks it.

“Want a proper drink?”

“I-I couldn’t,” Anders murmurs, and part of him isn’t sure whether he means the rotgut or… the other thing.

“You could,” Bela says, leaning and nudging his shoulder with her own. “You just don’t want to. But you should.”

He knows what she means. He follows her gaze and there’s Hawke, catching hold of Merrill before she wheels into someone. He’s wearing a green tunic—matches his eyes—and she’s tucked a spray of white flowers into the neck of it. Hawke grins, and Anders winces.

It’s not about ‘want’. Very much not. Want is what gets him into trouble. Want is all the silent looks that pass between him and Hawke—the kind that could blister paint—and, when they’re alone, the unspoken things and the unrealised kisses that ache on the air between them. He wishes he could stop it, that he could deny feeling the way he does, because it’s only going to ruin things.

Anders ruins everything, sooner or later. Hurts people, puts them at risk. He won’t—can’t—do that to Hawke, someone who’s a friend and a confidant, a part of the cause and swiftly becoming a mainstay of the rebellion. He’s… ugh, he’s brave and decent, the kind of man who gives money to Blight orphans and shows up at the clinic every week with a cart full of food and blankets and bandages, and he has the nerve to look as perfect as a painting while he’s doing it.

He isn’t perfect, but that just makes him all the more impossible to ignore. Every fuckup, every bad decision, every stupid thing he says or does… he’s true and vital, undeniable, and… and Anders is knee-deep in trouble he can’t afford. He knows it, just like he knows he shouldn’t even have come here tonight, but it’s too late. It’s been too late for a long time.

“Oh, all right,” he says, as Bela’s stealthily pouring some of whatever is in that flask into his wine. He wrinkles his nose. “Come on. Before I change my mind. Just watch your hands, all right?”

She grins and takes a swig from the flask before capping it. “You’re no fun.”

She doesn’t keep her hands to herself, but then that’s Bela, and it’s good-natured and not invasive. Knowing her the way he does, Anders would have been disappointed if she hadn’t slipped in a few squeezes as they dance. And there’s something to be said for the way she fills up his arms, all smooth, warm skin and soft breasts pressed against his chest as she gets closer than she needs to in the crush. She’s beautiful, wonderful, and a little part of him will always be in love with her, and the salt-rimed freedom she represents.

It occurs to him that she’s used those wiles of hers to a cruel advantage when a hand taps him on the shoulder, and Isabela grins in that particular way that suggests he’s been conned.

“Mind if I cut in?”

His stomach plummets as Hawke’s easy, familiar tones fall across the music, and he knows it’s a bloody set-up. Anders sees just a hint of Isabela grinning at him before she does a sneaky little twist, tugging on his wrist to unbalance him as she twirls away. In an effort not to land in an ungainly heap on the floor he propels himself forward, and of course he’s falling… falling into a pair of strong arms that catch him effortlessly. He looks up—he’s half a head taller than Hawke, though it doesn’t matter terribly when he slouches so much… or when he’s almost falling over, apparently—and there’s a smug grin and green eyes that are usually hard but here, in the press of people and the sway of music, have all the softness of spring grass.

Hawke’s hands are under his elbows, resting on the protection of his coat, and there’s space left between their bodies. He obviously planned this, but didn’t plan to take away Anders’ only escape route. He could say no right now, make an excuse and scurry out of the fray, go sit back on the fringe of everything with his half inch of wine and burgeoning headache. He could do. But then that would mean walking away from Hawke, who has made an effort and is wearing something that isn’t stained, patched leathers, and who smells like sawdust, beer, and secondhand perfume… and warm skin. The flowers Merrill tucked in his tunic are Andraste’s Grace, slightly wilted, and they smell sweet and earthy. Hawke’s grin falters and he leans closer so he can make himself heard.

“You don’t have to,” he says, raising his voice barely enough over the chaos, “but I’m dancing with all my friends. ‘Specially the handsome ones.”

And that’s Hawke. Cornier than forty acres of farmland in mid-August. Anders has grudgingly accepted the way it makes something fragile and wonderful flutter under his ribs.

“Idiot,” he says, and slides his hands into Hawke’s as the musicians start up another song. It’s an old Fereldan tune, something to do with the story of Dane and the werewolf, and Anders vaguely recalls there are words to it, though there’s no singer tonight. Words wouldn’t matter anyway, because everything becomes a jumble in his head as his palms kiss Hawke’s dry, callused skin, and he’s being spun away through the press of people.

Neither of them dance well, not that it matters. Hawke leads poorly, but somehow they get away mostly without treading on each other, probably because all they’re really doing is staring at each other and—if Anders’ insistent thoughts are anything to go by—both wishing the rest of the room would fall away into the abyss and leave them alone. It’s so stupid. He’d say he feels like a boy at his first harvest dance, except he never really went to any of those, at least not when he was old enough for the crushes and the dancing… and there wasn’t much of that in the Tower. So it’s easy to fall into this silly, frivolous stuff, because—at least, if Anders squints hard enough—it’s everything he’s fighting for. The freedom for people like him to live like everyone else, and have all the things that they do… including this moment of closeness that, however ridiculous it might be, he knows he’s going to be thinking about for months.

Hawke leans in, and Anders’ pulse jumps, shaming him with the strength of his physical reaction.

“Y’know,” Hawke says conversationally, that light smirk on his face only betrayed by the ache of desire in his eyes, “I might never get another chance to say this, and I know I might get a fireball in the arse for it… but you dance like a dream.”

Anders snorts at the obvious bullshit line, but Hawke protests, tugging at his lapel.

“No, really… and I’ve had a lot of dreams that involve me being in your arms.”

“Careful, Hawke,” Anders warns, not sure whether it’s more dangerous to look into those lovely eyes or let his attention fall to that smart, seductive mouth. “You might yet wake up.”

Hawke smiles, a look that’s soft and altogether too sweet, and that Anders wants to see on his face again and again.

“I hope not,” he murmurs. “At least… not till after it gets to the really good part.”

“You’re terrible.”

He is. And he’s beautiful. He makes it easy to want to give in, to want all the things that hang between them like vine-heavy fruit, but Anders knows if he does that he’ll destroy everything. What does he have to bring except problems? He’d make Hawke a target for the templars, and the man’s infuriating ability to attraction attention—the viscount, the guard, sundry royal claimants and exiled arseholes from across the Marches—would risk blowing the Underground wide open. It’s not safe. He won’t risk anyone like that. Besides, Hawke smiles so much. Anders isn’t sure he could bear seeing that light fade out of him.

And yet, as the fiddle’s energetic screech becomes a long, drawn-out note that falls into the melodic start of a slower song, Anders doesn’t make an excuse or pull away. He’s the one who takes his hand from Hawke’s, and lets it fall to his waist, pulling him a little closer. Those pretty green eyes widen, and a smirk tugs at the corner of his lips. One hand goes to Anders’ shoulder, fingers sliding into the softness of feathers. He can see, written plain on Hawke’s face, how much he likes the feel of them. It’s almost indecent, or at least as much as the images that immediately flash behind Anders’ eyes—if he likes feathers between his fingers, he’d love them trailed across his ribs, right?—and he can’t help but smile.

They slow their pace, Anders takes the lead, and he knows he isn’t imagining the way Hawke melts into it. He makes everything so easy, which is a such a void-taken lie. None of this is easy… especially the part where he’s trying so hard not to want it. The smell of Andraste’s Grace, that odd little reminder of a place they both once called home, drifts between them, and he’s aware that they’re so close they’re almost crushing the flowers. Close enough to feel the warm, hard breadth of Hawke’s body against his, and Anders has never been more grateful for the layers and stiff fabric of his coat, even though it offers little protection from the proximity they share.

The music dips and sways, a bittersweet lament. The crowd has thinned a little though, as the song draws to a close, the rest of the room may as well not be there. Anders knows he’s lost. He just doesn’t care. The thought that the song will end in a moment is too horrible to contemplate, so he pretends it isn’t real, that they can stay like this forever.

Maybe that’s what makes it easy to dip in and press a soft kiss to Hawke’s cheek, the stubble on his jaw a tantalising scratch against Anders’ lips.

“Happy Summerday, Hawke.”

If it is a dream, Anders thinks, watching the way Hawke blushes—not to mention the borderline obscene look of desire in his eyes—it is at least a bloody good one.

[fandom-collective-writers]

The Woes of Winning (Gavin x MC)

Fandom: Mr. Love: Queen’s Choice

Pairing: Gavin x MC

Word Count: 1,521

Warning: NSFW Smut

Requested by: Anonymous

Written by: @voltage-vixen​

“Boss, everything turned out great!” Willow praised, filling up the coolers with another round of drinks.

“Thanks to everyone pitching in,” MC responded, before sending the younger woman on her way to assist Anna.

The small production company was celebrating the success of their most recent commercial and were partaking in festivities at one of the nearby beaches. Invitations had been extended to friends and family of the staff, and everyone was immersed in the lively atmosphere of the jovial gathering. MC was helping serve the guests their food, and Gavin being the kind soul he was offered to man the grill.

“Please don’t hesitate to inform me if you need anything else,” MC reminded the crowd, as she cleared away the tables.

Pausing to wipe away the sweat trickling from her brow, MC stole a glance to admire the way the sweltering heat left Gavin illuminating in perspiration. The fabric of his damp shirt clung to his form, accentuating the cuts of his muscular upper body. Gavin noticed her staring and granted her a small wave while giving the grill a final wipe down. He placed the tongs down, and casually acknowledged MC’s coworkers as he made his way over to join MC.

“Hi,” MC greeted Gavin, blushing as he threw his arm around her shoulder.

“Hi yourself,” Gavin responded, tucking the producer’s slicked bangs behind her ear. “Man, it’s pretty hot out here today.”

“It is hot out here!” Minor suddenly interjected, stumbling over to the couple. “I propose we finally put those water balloons to good use and have ourselves a good old-fashioned smack down!”

Perhaps it was a combination of the scorching humidity and the strength of the alcohol consumed, but Minor reiterated his desire by holding up the large bucket stocked with the loaded balloons and breaking into an obnoxious fit of giggles. Sighing in dejection, MC massaged her temples preparing to lecture her former classmate.  

“Minor, those water balloons are for the chil-GAVIN!”

Taking advantage of MC’s occupied state of mind, Gavin had snatched one of the balloons and purposely dropped it down onto her foot without any warning. Soon the noise from the commotion drew others in, and joyful laughs could be heard around the beach’s vicinity. MC reached for one of the balloons to counterattack against Gavin, but her efforts fell in vain when he took off running.

“You’re not getting away this time, Gavin!”

MC launched a water balloon into the air, her pupils widened in a hopeful anticipation that for once she would finally gain the upper hand on the adept police captain. Her moment of joy was short lived however when Gavin effortlessly dodged the attack at the last second.

“Nice one, bro! You’re going to have to do better than that if you even think you have a shot of hitting Gavin, MC!” Minor cheered, before Kiki pelted a balloon of her own that struck him square in the face.

“Admit defeat, and I promise to not embarrass you anymore in front of the group,” Gavin warned, his lips curling up into a playful smile, ignoring the groaning Minor rolling around on the sand.

“Fine, you win,” MC pouted. At least that’s what she wanted Gavin to believe, as she leisurely shuffled over to her boyfriend with a water balloon hidden behind her back. “Truce?”

Attempting to distract Gavin by sticking her pinky out, MC yelped when he swiftly grasped onto her wrist.

“Pretty sly of you to try and pull a fast one on me,” Gavin confronted, the slits of his eyes narrowing. “As an officer of the law, I have an obligation to punish you.”

SPLASH

The balloon that MC had been holding in her hand fell out of her hand and to the ground, standing in shock as she fell victim to Gavin’s own water balloon invasion he inflicted upon his unsuspecting partner. Drenched from the water, MC’s clothing hugged the curves of her chest. Glancing down, MC gasped and covered herself when she realized the outline of her bra was visible under the anew translucent blouse.

“Don’t move.”

Paralyzed by Gavin’s authoritative command, MC adhered his order and obliged as he hoisted her up into his arms. Cradling her protectively against his chest, Gavin stormed down the beach into the direction of the changing stalls. The chill of the onset evening breeze brushed against her misty skin snapped her mind back into reality where she glimpsed around the beach at the party still ongoing.

“Gavin, please wait! I need to make sure that-.”

“No, you don’t.”

MC’s head snapped in the direction of the voice that interrupted her, and discovered Anna was standing nearby smirking meaningfully. Anna’s eyebrows creased and her arms were crossed, while Willow did her best to stifle giggles.

“We can handle everything from here, MC,” Anna called out in assurance. “Take good care of our girl, Gavin!”

Gavin’s cheeks flushed with a tint of pink, but nonetheless persisted until they arrived at the changing unit. Surveying the area to ensure they were alone, Gavin threw back the curtain of the nearest changing stall, and quickly forced his way inside with MC.

“Gavin, what the-….”

MC’s breath was instantly taken away as Gavin’s lips passionately claimed her own. His one hand fumbled around with the buttons on the front of her soaked blouse, while the other entangled in the fine layers of her curly hair. Her knees buckled against Gavin when his teeth nibbled down the side of her neck, and a sensuous purr escaped when he finally ripped the shirt from her body.

“I’m sorry I can’t help myself. I wanted to win, but the thought of others witnessing you in this state was too much for me to bear,” Gavin huffed, his fingers reaching down into MC’s skirt to caress her bud  before slipping a finger past her velvety folds into her core. “Looks like your shirt isn’t the only thing that’s wet today.”

“Gavin, don’t stop,” MC whimpered, bucking her hips downwards to better ride his finger. “No more teasing. You won the showdown fair and square, meaning it’s time for you claim your prize already!”

Gavin didn’t need to be told twice to help MC shimmy out of the remainder of her clothing. The garments slid to the floor and pooled around her ankles. Her tongue ran along the curve of her lips in a blissful admiration of Gavin stroking the length of his member, before pushing her back up against the wall of the stall they were in.

“Wrap your arms around my neck,” the officer ordered, and grunted when she willingly obliged, giving his hair on the back of his head a flirtatious tug for good measure.

“Your body is about to pay for that,” Gavin murmured in retortion, flashing her a devious warning smile.

He slipped his arm under MC’s thigh to support her, pressed his erection deep into her opening, and relished in the beautiful sounds of her gratifying hissing when her walls spanned to accommodate him. Gavin slapped the mound of her ass, and then tightened his grip around her waist, bracing to intensify the rhyme of his thrusting.

“So wet and tight for me. God, how good you feel should be illegal.”

Gavin slammed his hips eliciting a carnal cry from MC as she feverishly clawed his back, grinding against him out of a desperation to relieve the pressure in her lower belly. Her eyes pleaded with Gavin, but she whimpered when his thumb instead pressed against the bend of her lips.

“Shh! Keep your voice down. I would hate to have to issue you a noise complaint, miss naughty,” he instructed. “And I don’t want anyone else hearing these adorable sounds you’re making for me.”

“Gavin,” she moaned as he leaned over to place soft kisses on her breasts, sucking hard when his tongue found her nipple.

“Come for me now, MC.”

MC squirmed when his fingers rubbed against her swollen clit and triumphantly arched her head back when her walls began to quiver. Gavin’s hand was madly fondling her nub, giving MC the final push to achieve her rewarding sensation.

“Gavin,” she panted, eyes glazed over and body pulsating waves of ecstasy of their secret tryst on the beach. “I-I love you.”

Still fully encompassed within MC, Gavin lovingly nuzzled his forehead against her own.

“I love you too,” Gavin whispered.

MC’s long eyelashes batted serene butterfly kisses down Gavin’s face, and she brushed her nose against his. Gavin leaned in for a kiss that shortly intensified into a lavish make out session. The couple groaned in unison when Gavin’s erection expanded and grew harder inside of MC. Both exchanged a knowing glance and braced themselves for what was about to become a wild second round of lovemaking.

“Remind me to thank Minor later,” Gavin chuckled, before rousing his hips to shift upwards again.

Falling back into sync with their previous rhythm, Gavin and MC tuned out the rest of the busy world and spent the remainder of the hot summer evening heating things up even further.

[anthonyed]

Okay first of all I fucking loved the stuckony ticket you wrote! Could you do number eight form the list with the same pairing? But only if you want!

Thank you! Could I ever resist my ot3? (the answer is no) I got carried away with this. It's Part 2 of this. Full story on Ao3

prompt:  “Everyone knows the 90s were the epitome of high fashion.”

-//-

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you’re jealous.” Bucky says casually one afternoon. A pint of ice cream in his hold and he’s shovelling it into his mouth while the summer sun burns his back. 

Steve chokes on a sip of ice lemonade from where he lays; a little more shadowy ground than that of Bucky’s. His Irish complexion doesn’t tan, it burns.

“I’m not jealous of you and Tony.” he jumps to defend, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Scandalised to even be accused such.

Bucky breaks into a slow victorious grin, the spoon dangling from between his teeth and he says, “I didn’t say what you were jealous of.”

If not the sun, Steve burns from humiliation. “I’m not,” he insists like a child accused of stealing from a cookie jar.

Bucky hums, scooping another spoonful into his mouth and he looks away thoughtfully. Steve follows his gaze, sees where it lands and he shakes his head, immediately looking away.

It’s Tony, lounging on a float with his shades on and a glass of bright orange something in one hand. He’s got a pair of shorts on and nothing else. A thousand times better than Bucky’s swimming trunk. Which is stupid short and incredibly tight.

It’s so out there, that even Steve cannot help but catch himself looking. Just like now.

“Like what you see?” Bucky’s voice snaps him out of it and colors tomato red up his cheeks.

“It’s awful,” He grumbles petulantly, rubbing both hands down his face. Maybe he should just call it day and hide in his room. One humiliation after another is bad for the soul.

“You don’t have to hide what you like, Stevie.” Bucky says softly. 

Steve drops his hands and glares at him. He’s no longer shovelling ice cream into his mouth. In fact, he looks genuine from where’s sat, regarding Steve with curious eyes. 

“I hear it’s okay for fellas to like fellas these days.” There’s a clear intent in his statement. Just, what it is, Steve has a little trouble pointing it out.

“I - yeah,” he confirms.

Bucky nods, the corner of his mouth lifting a little and he’s looking down at the pint of ice cream on his lap when he speaks, but his words hit bull’s eye with daggers straight at Steve’s weakest point. “Remember, my first kiss?”

Steve inhales sharply, his throat going dry and his insides clamp. He manages a shaky nod, couldn’t avoid looking at Bucky even if he wants to run a mile away from him. If there was one thing Steve was hoping would stay out of Bucky’s memory permanently, for his own selfish purpose. It was that.

17 or 28, give or take seven decades in between, Steve is never going to be ready to acknowledge that particular event. It wasn’t that he hated it. Instead, it was quite the opposite. But the memory is tainted with sins and illicitness. Illegality and crippling fear and back then, it was traumatising. 

Even if today, he knows, logically, that it’s normal.

“Did you like it?” Bucky asks quietly and Steve feels his skin tingles. 

He cannot recall it, his mind refuses to. Secretly allowing a vivid recollection of it only in the darkness, when the rest of the world has gone to sleep and Steve is on the brink of his orgasm; close to breaking, consciousness shot to death and only his subconscious ruled.

“Bucky,” Steve warns roughly.

But Bucky keeps talking like he didn’t hear Steve. Like he’s remembering it for himself, by himself.

“Cause I did.” He smiles a little, twirling the spoon inside the pint. “I do,” he corrects softly. Then he tilts his head a little, frowns at his hand and he wonders aloud, “I didn’t force you did I?”

“No,” Steve rushes to negate. Always. Looking out to not make Bucky feel bad. Always ready to protect. “It was mutual.” He adds, biting his lip after in regret. There wasn’t a need to say that. 

Bucky looks up then, bright eyes glinting, and he looks equal part mischievous and reckless when he shares, “I remember loving you. Like a fella supposed to love a dame, yeah?” It’s rhetorical and Steve’s shot dead in cognition, but he nods jerkily anyway.

“Would you have stepped out with me if I asked you then?” Bucky cocks his head curiously, “Scratch that,” he waves, “Would you step you with me now?”

“Bucky,” Steve breathes painfully. He looks at his first love, his pal and his buddy, and he looks at his other love, the one who he dared to in this century; bore a crush so warm and secure in the core of his heart, he wasn’t ready to speak out, but he was ready to accept.

“Bucky,” he says seriously, “I think Tony likes you.”

“I know,” Bucky nods slowly, “I like him too.”

Steve blinks. “No,” he says, “I don’t think you understand. Tony likes you, like that.”

At that, he receives a flat stare, “I know that, Stevie. I like him too.” Bucky enunciates pointedly.

Now, Steve’s just confused. “And you’re asking me out?” 

Bucky rolls his eyes like he’s stupid. “Yes, I’m asking you out. I asked him out too. He said yes by the way. He’s just not sure if you like him like that.”

“What?” Steve turns to the pool where Tony’s steadily floating, not a single care in the world. It’s absurd. He cannot believe what Bucky’s saying. “Of course I like him. I just,” he stops, shaking his head firmly, “I would not come in between you and him like that.

“Oh please,” Bucky laughs, “By all mean, please do come in between us like that.”

When Steve gawks, Bucky’s glee mutes. 

“Stevie, doll-face,” he calls, and Steve looks from Tony to him. “Did you seriously live three years in this century without knowing what polyamory is? Do I have to educate you about everything?”

There’s a teasing tone to his question. A sly smirk which Steve scowls at long and hard before begrudgingly admitting, “What’s that.”

-

One short but compact lecture about polyamory later, Bucky sits on Steve’s bed and insists that in order to impress Tony, Steve has to start including 90s fashion into his daily style.

Steve balks. “I am not. Doing that.”

“Then you’re gonna have a tough chance wooing him. Especially me looking so dapper over here.” Bucky shrugs, pulling at a lone thread hanging off of his sleeve ends. It’s another obnoxious pattern; horizontal green and black stripes with baggy jeans he wears so low even if it’s secured by a red belt with its end poking out of the loops. 

There is no way Bucky seriously believes he’s dapper. “You said he likes me already.”

“I said he didn’t know if you like him like that. Not that he likes you.”

Steve stops in the middle of folding back all his clothes Bucky had strewn out over the mattress. Bucky grins. “Chill,” he says, abusing the term he’d learnt from Parker and his teenage gang. “I’m messing with ya. If he didn’t like you, he wouldn’t have said yes to the date.”

Something still feels wrong. Steve doesn’t like not knowing Tony’s opinion from his own mouth. “Are you sure?” He collapses on the bed. Tossing a crumpled shirt aside, he scrubs his face. “I don’t know if -,”

“Miss Fri?” Bucky sing songs. Steve startles, reaching over to smack Bucky’s mouth shut but the jerk ducks, cackling as he asks for Tony.

“Bucky!” Steve hisses, face increasingly heating up, palms clammy. He lunges for him but gets himself in a headlock with Bucky’s thighs around his neck. 

Sooner than expected, Tony’s voice booming through the speaker and Steve’s palming his face, mortified.

“I hear I’ve been summoned by the coldest Winter?”

Bucky snorts, “Not funny. I have Stevie here tryna pull out our date. Tell him he’s wanted.”

Tony doesn’t even pause a beat, “Stevie, you’re wanted.” He repeats robotically.

“Tell him you like my 90s look.” Bucky bugs, and Tony, so obediently, like he’d never been with Steve, tells Steve just that. “I keep telling you Cap. Everyone knows the 90s were the epitome of high fashion.”

Bucky digs a toe under Steve’s arm, “Now you believe me?” Then he goes back to Tony, “Tony, tell him he needs to wear like me to impress you.”

This time there’s a long beat of silence. Bucky’s grip around Steve’s neck loosens. Steve cranes his neck to look at him. Bucky shrugs. “Tony?”

There’s a sigh. Then, “James, you know I don’t care how you dress or look right?” Tony asks seriously. 

Bucky rolls his eyes. Letting Steve go, he flips onto his stomach and flings an arm over Steve’s shoulder when Steve settles by his side. “Of course I know that. I just think it’d be cool to prank Stevie,” he knuckles Steve’s head pointedly, “And now you went and ruined it.”

Tony’s chuckle filters through the speaker. A little shaky and nervous. Steve perks up at that. 

“Is that right, Steve?” Tony asks, addressing him directly. Steve ducks away from Bucky’s arm, blood pooling at his cheeks and he turns his face away. 

“He’s blushing,” Bucky supplies dryly.

“Will you stop?” Steve hisses at him, aiming a kick and this time it meets the target, sending Bucky down the bed with a loud thump. 

“Is Buck -,” Steve starts and stops. He thinks hard and starts over, ignoring Bucky’s pained groans. Drama queen. 

“Do you really want to date Buck and me?” he asks Tony.

“Yeah,” is the raspy reply. “Unless you don’t -,”

“I do.” Steve interjects. “I. I really do.”

Tony chuckles again, this time still low but none of that shaky nervousness and Steve smiles at that, dopey. 

“Jesus Christ,” Bucky grunts, pushing himself up on the bed with an exaggerated effort. “Did you know he just pushed me off the bed?” He complains to Tony.

Steve rolls his eyes and kicks him again. Bucky goes down with another thump. “Again!” Bucky yells. “He did it again!”

Tony laughs, “Well they do say two is better than one.”

"Not when my ass is sore, sugar."

Steve shrugs, "I don't about that..." he trails off.

Both Bucky and Tony gasps out aloud.

[voyeur-in-the-mirror]

Fist to Nose, Words of Embarrassment

Ship(s): Lawrence x Adam Character(s): Lawrence ; Adam Words: 520 Warning(s): - A/N: I was inspired so enjoy it took me months to write this bc of procrastination

The night was alive with the sound of music.

And with the night came mosh pits that brought the underground alive.

Adam Stanheight, in all his glory, took to the scene with fascination and excitement as he performed a head bang and stomped his feet to the sound of the beat and vocalists screams. Screams, crying, and “hell yeah”’s could be heard all around him as the metal music played and he was having the time of his life.

“GET UP, COME ON, GET DOWN WITH THE SICKNESS!”

He couldn’t tell if he was sweating from the heat or from the excitement making the room buzz and shake under his feet but he was loving it. Moshing next to him was his bed, Scott, as always.

“This shit is electric!” Adam attempted to yell over the music, but Scott could neither hear nor attempted too. Shrugging it off, Adam continued pumping his fists in the air until, suddenly, his knuckles had collided with something that made him feel a hard ‘crack’.

When he felt no pain, he knew immediately he had broken something on someone.

Usually he wouldn’t care, but this time he and he turned around to meet the guy he just assaulted. Behind him was a confused, slightly dazed man holding a nose with blood running out of a nostril.

“Holy shit, dude!” Adam yelled, his eyes wide as he observed the bloodstream, “Oh my god, are you okay? Should I call an ambulance?”

“No, don’t,” the man yelled back, tilting back his head and wincing, “I’m a doctor!”

He began walking away to leave the room in hopes of, somehow, finding a bathroom or at least some place with paper towels. Unbeknownst to him, Adam was following with genuine worry and curiosity, but not without the itch to walk back in and listen to the rest of the song.

“Is it broken?” He continued to shout, his hearing blurring the softer sounds of the (disgusting) restroom they found themselves in. The man peered at him standing behind him in the mirror and nodded once, wincing slightly as he gently cleaned his face.

“If you’re wondering if I’ll sue, don’t worry, I know it was an accident.”

Relieved, Adam felt some of the tension in his shoulders slip away. But his curiosity for many other things remained.

“What’re you doing in a mosh pit anyways? You don’t look like you belong there.”

Observing him, Adam saw that he had clean and nicely combed hair, and clean, ironed clothes. A fancy-schmancy man usually wouldn’t be caught dead around possible illegal activities or music like that. The man sighed and shut his eyes, stress apparent on his face.

“A friend invited me- I don’t know why I’m telling this to the stranger who broke my nose.”

“My name’s Adam, and a broken nose is a part of the experience. Welcome to the underground,” Adam said, a sly grin spreading on his face, “what’s the name of our new member?”

“Lawrence,” the man responded simply, gently pushing on his nose to check the tenderness. Adam walked up to his side and cocked a brow, looking at just where the nose bent to form an almost right angle.

“Jesus, I really hit you hard, didn’t I?”

“I imagine so, I hear it break over the music. I just need to stop the bleeding and I’ll fix it when the swelling is down.”

“Won’t you need surgery?”

“It isn’t that bad,” Lawrence assured, holding up a hand, “I’ll be fine. You can go back and, uh… mosh now.”

“No way!” Adam exclaimed, moving to Lawrence’s other side, “this is way better. Let’s take a picture,” he suggested, pulling a small, discardable camera. Lawrence cocked a brow this time, feeling slightly annoyed and as if Adam were a precarious character. He didn’t comply, but he didn’t deny and he let Adam snap a photo with him. He was holding up a “rock and roll” hand with an expression that would make anyone think he was high while Lawrence simply gave the camera a slightly irritated look to him. “You look like you could kill someone,” Adam teased. Lawrence snickered.

“You ought to anyways, I’ve decided that with a broken nose, I probably shouldn’t be here any longer than I need to be, and I don’t need to be,” Lawrence mumbled, leaning over the sink to test if blood would continue dripping. He was feeling rather woozy and weak so he held onto the sink counter a bit tightly.

“You look pale,” Adam said suddenly, frowning. “You’re not planning on driving are you?”

“I’m certainly not staying here.”

“Too rich?”

“Too afraid I’ll pass out.”

“Well it’s a good thing I already took your keys,” Adam remarked, pulling out a set of keys and swinging the ring around his finger. Lawrence, surprised, patted down his pockets in disbelief. “I’ll take ya.”

“And I suppose you’ll just walk back here?”

“I was driven here by a friend, don’t sweat it. I’ll find my way back.”

Mid-conversation, Lawrence found himself using the counter to hold himself up. It was ironic for a doctor to find himself in a position such as this, but usually he was fixing the broken people and he wasn’t one himself. Besides, he’s never broken his nose before.

“Fine,” he sighed in defeat, “but if you steal anything from me-”

“Why would you assume I’d steal from you?”

“My keys!”

“I was gonna give them back!” Adam laughed, following Lawrence out of the bathroom and through the building to leave. A fresh breath of warm, summer air wisped past them and played with Adam’s already wild hair as they entered the silver car, both of them finally receiving a bit of peace and quiet.

When Adam drove off, they were quiet until he decided to break the ice, not being able to stand the silence.

“So who’s the friend you were lookin’ for? You don’t seem like the type of guy to hang with guys like me.”

Lawrence sighed and rubbed the inner corners of his eyes. “A friend from college. Believe it or not, I used to be like… that before becoming like this.”

“You look like you belong to some… fancy, rich club for doctors and lawyers,” Adam teased, giving him a side glance and being pleasantly surprised when he saw him nod.

“I am a doctor. I just don’t belong to a club. I have no time for that when I’ve got a family to take care of.”

Adam thought on this and wondered, briefly, what that was like. Not to have fun, to only go to some boring job and back home to what sounded like a boring life. Save a few lives, lose a few lives- it seemed tedious yet stressful. He would never want that kind of life.

“Turn right,” Lawrence muttered tiredly, breaking Adam’s train of thought. Adam nodded quietly and did as instructed, turning into a quaint, tidy neighborhood. Definitely not something Adam was used to, as he was more used to seeing, put lightly, untidiness. He didn’t have time to clean his own apartment when he was out all night partying or doing his odd-jobs.

“What does your wife think of you goin’ out to mosh pits?” Adam asked in hopes of some kind of reaction. What he got was what he expected.

“She doesn’t know I went.”

“You are quite the rebel.”

“I’m almost forty-three, I’m not a rebel.”

Adam was taken aback by this statement. Of course he looked older than him, he was just in his early thirties himself, but that was a bit of a difference. Nonetheless, Lawrence was still a very attractive man. Of course he wouldn’t break up he and his wife, he’s not that kind of guy, but nothing was stopping him from hitting on him. Maybe he was a little more tipsy than he thought.

“Were you really there because of a friend?”

“What are you implying?”

“It’s a Sunday night and you’re not with your family having dinner.”

This made a hot blush spread on Lawrence’s face as he muttered for Adam to stop in front of a certain house. Adam smirked at this and turned off the engine, opening his door as he did.

“Go and be with your family, I don’t live far from here.”

Hesitantly, Lawrence said, “Maybe we could…”

And Adam grinned slyly. “Maybe.”

[christophe-delorne]

Good Dog

Chapter 13

Pairings: Gregory x Christophe

Warnings: Swearing, they talk about torture.

AU: Adults.

Thunder rumbled in the distance, heavy enough that Christophe could feel the vibration through the very ground. It was a warning, a premonition of the storm that was to come. A fitting threat to what was to come once he finished what he was doing. Headlights framed his figure from behind, casting very little light to the open grave before him, though by no means was it empty. Green eyes peered down through slits to the current resident within the freshly dug grave, still unconscious from earlier that evening. Couldn't possibly be good for his mental health, but that really wasn't his problem. This was just part of the job, what happened afterwards was none of his concern as long as he got what he wanted.

A droplet of water splattered on the rubber surface of the mask Christophe wore. He hadn't been the one to buy it, Gregory was oh-so-gracious to provide the Frenchman with a means to hide his identity. So of fucking course it was a dog mask, the sick bastard even got the 'doberman' option as well. It was all some big fucking joke to him, but Christophe hadn't had time to order an actual decent mask in the middle of summer. It would simply have to do. At least Christophe couldn't see himself, so he could mentally block out the fact that Gregory was publicly humiliating him on the sly. At least no one would actually know or remember that he hated dogs, especially not the man slowly starting to come to within the grave.

"Wh... What?" A voice rose up from the hole, the male within reaching up to groggily rub at his eyes as if he'd been disturbed from a heavy sleep. His name, Leopold 'Butters' Stotch, secretary to MBP's CEO, Eric Cartman and so much more as Gregory and Christophe had uncovered. It was no wonder why McCormick insisted that they didn't kill Leopold on the spot, the man was in some serious deep shit and it would be easier just to kill him. It began to lightly sprinkle, the droplets of water serving to further wake Leopold up as he pushed himself into a sit. Christophe could see the expression on Leopold's face as he slowly registered he wasn't in his bed, but six feet within the earth.

Leopold looked up, his head angled upwards towards Christophe, allowing the Frenchman to get a good look at his panicked face. If it were for the scar over one eye, Christophe would've deemed him incapable of looking like some evil mastermind. However, Christophe knew better than to underestimate someone, even with their looks. Anyone was capable of violence, one simply had to set the game up correctly. Christophe turned his head, peering over his shoulder at the one other occupant to this late night excursion. Gregory was standing back, near the car they rented, an umbrella out and over his head. At this distance, he couldn't make out any details about Gregory, only a vague dark form in the light.

"He's awake." Christophe gruffed out, his voice hinting of a Russia accent. He was capable of disguising himself and he wanted to keep Leopold on the wrong path.

"Wonderful." Gregory's accent matched Christophe's, though more refined, regal, as if hinting of upper class versus the Russian laborer Christophe posed as. "Start the process."

Christophe turned his head back to Leopold, who looked like he was about to piss his pants, how someone like this became a part of the crime syndicate was beyond Christophe. Perhaps there was more too this man than met the eye. Christophe didn't have time to poke and prod, to peel away the secrets until there was nothing left. They were running on a tight schedule, meaning Christophe couldn't have any decent fun.

"Wh-Who are you people?" Leopold asked, trying to gain back some form of confidence, his fingers curling into fists. "You can't just go taking people from their beds like this! You'll regret every doing this to me!"

"I can and I have." Christophe picked up a handful of dirt that was starting to grow damp from the sprinkling, tossing it into Leopold's face. "If you continue to threaten me, I will bury you alive."

"Stop playing with your food, dog." Gregory warned from behind, drawing an annoyed rumble from Christophe. The Brit should know all about theatrics, how setting up fear and anticipation was vital if they were going to get the job done in this situation.

"This can go down two ways. Either you do as I say or I'll bury you alive. Is that understood, Mr. Stotch?" Christophe paused, head tilting. "Or should I say, Mr. Ghee?"

This seemed to get Leopold's attention, his gaze shifting away nervously. He didn't need to say anything to reveal that Christophe had hit the nail on the head. The Frenchman in the meantime, pulled out a pre-paid phone, activating the screen and with a few taps he brought up the emails Gregory had uploaded onto it.

"Yes, codename Ghee. The contact for exporting a new illegal drug to Europe. To deliver such drugs overseas without anyone catching on costs a good deal of money, something the drug cartels across the border had no interest in spending." Christophe tossed the phone to Leopold, who fumbled a bit before catching it. He took a moment to look over the files on the phone, his skin pallor turning white as a ghost as he realized Christophe had retrieved all the emails from his secondary email. "It would be a shame if those found their way into the FBI's hands. All we ask is for one simple little favor."

"What do you want? Money? In on the deal? I can get you anything, just say the word." Leopold tightened his grip on the phone, it almost looked like he was half tempted to crush it or throw it back at Christophe. Either way, the files were stored elsewhere, the ones on the phone were simply copies.

"I don't have interest in any of those things. What I want is for you to quit your job."

"What?! I can't do that! Eric will kill me!" Leopold seemed more concerned about the threat of Eric than the threat right in front of him. It was almost insulting, but then again Leopold likely didn't understand how much of a threat Christophe could be. So, Christophe had to prove a point.

Christophe reached out, snagging Leopold by the collar of his shirt and dragging him up off the ground with ease. With Christophe being crouched on the edge of the hole, he managed to come face to face with Leo, or rather face to mask. "I'll fuckin' kill you if you don't. It won't be pretty either." Christophe narrowed his gaze, glaring through the slits. Threatening Leo likely wouldn't have a strong impact. However, Christophe had a suspicion there was another way. So he dropped Leo back into the grave, causing the other male to stumble a bit but managed to stay on his feet.

"No, I don't think that would break a naive little spirit like yours. I need to dig deeper, hurt you on a level that's not physical."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I was looking through your phone earlier and I couldn't help but notice you texting someone by the name of 'Kenny'. You two seem really close, I can make his disappear. Maybe that'd be too kind. I could send him back to you. Piece by piece. Keeping him alive the entire time until I take out his heart and give it to you personally." This seemed to get a proper reaction out of Leopold, fear, anger, desperation was written all across his face as he looked up at the masked Frenchman. Christophe waited, letting Leopold puzzle out his options and come down to the conclusion that Christophe would get what he wanted.

"If I do this, Eric my try to do the same thing."

"Eric doesn't know. But he could know if you upset the wrong people. Don't worry, you'll go into hiding until all of this is over."

"Until what is over?"

"Dog. Hurry up before it starts to rain." Gregory intervened, sounding a little annoyed.

"You heard the man. Time's up. Call Eric and either quit or get yourself fired." Christophe crouched again, looking like he was all too eager to tear into Leopold who was holding the phone clenched to his chest.

"Fine, asshole." Leopold gave one last glare before looking down at the phone, dialing the number to his boss. Holding it up to his ear, though sheltering it with his other hand to keep the random drops of rain from getting on it. After a moment, the other line picked up. "Hey, its me, Butters." Pause. "Yeah, I know its late but I just wanted to ca-" Seems like an interruption on the other end. "Shut the fuck up, Eric and let me speak!" Seems like Eric was getting on Leopold's nerves finally, or the stress was actually getting to him. "I'm quiting. I'm tired of dealing with your fatass. I'm leaving, deal with this shit yourself. Have a good rest of your night, bye."

Christophe felt he was getting a bit of whiplash from the fact Leopold went from angry to polite within an instant, but he couldn't let himself get caught off guard as Leopold tossed him the phone back. Chris dropped it on the ground and slammed his boot down onto it. It began to ring, likely Eric calling back to talk to Leopold, but Christophe was ruthlessly crushing it into the dirt until it finally stopped ringing. Once it did, Christophe picked it back up and put it in his pocket.

Now the sprinkling was turning into actual rain, making the dirt turn into mud, running into the hole into slow streams. "Good, thanks for the assistance." Christophe picked up his dirty shovel and made his way back to Gregory who was checking the time on his phone impatiently. Tossing the shovel in the trunk, he could hear Leopold calling out, asking for help to get him out of the hole, but both men ignored it. They had no intentions in taking Leopold back to his home, it was better just to leave him there. Gregory seemed almost tempted to do worse as he was already clenching the steering wheel when Christophe climbed into the passenger seat.

"Jealous much?" Christophe made the snide remark as he pulled off his mask, tossing it into the backseat. His gaze caught Gregory looking over at him in disgust, for good reason. Christophe was filthy from digging, covered in dirt and sweat but it couldn't be helped and it wasn't like this was Gregory's car back home. It was a temporary rental under a false name. Gregory was thorough in making sure nothing traced back to him, not wanting to risk their plan being ruined before it could be put into play. Still though, Gregory looked like he was tempted to make Christophe walk home.

"Of course, I have no intentions of sharing my pet with others." Gregory reached out, brushing his knuckles, clothed in leather gloves, over Christophe's cheek. The Frenchman let out a sound of annoyance and moved away, which seemed to be the wrong choice at the moment. Gregory snatched Christophe by his chin and jaw, the grip was bruising as Gregory forced Christophe to look at him. Defiance burned in Christophe's gaze but he knew better than to do anything more than that.

"Oh? You get to fuckin' dick around with whoever the fuck you please, but I can't?" Christophe couldn't keep his mouth shut, but he was frustrated that Gregory was allowed to be jealous but he couldn't.

"No, you can't because I said so. We are on two different levels, in case you've forgotten. I'm in charge here, the master so I make the rules. And if you haven't noticed by now, but life isn't fair darling." Gregory let go of Christophe's chin, giving him a bit of a rough pat on the cheek that was more dangerous than affectionate. "Now call McCormick, tell him where his little boyfriend is at. Can't have him dying and ruining all the plans now."

[bba-sae]

Long Ass Nights

Pairing: Mark/Reader

Genre: College!AU + Fluff

Word Count: 3.5k

Summary: What’s a college party without a drunk fool?  Mark wouldn’t know.

Author’s note: See what I did there? :D @stoppcy sent me a funny ass joke so I gotta dish out the goods yeah? Still open to hear more jokes and possibly write more imagines. So send them my way!!

Mark knocks on your door at 10:30. Exactly when he said he would in his text, and his snapchat, and his twitter DM, and the three-second facetime call you hang up on. It still doesn’t change the fact that you attempt to close the door in his face when he greets you. 

“For the love of God woman, why must you kill this night,” Mark asks as he pushes against your body through the door. You fight back full force, but you lose strength in a few seconds. You’re a freshman in college with a killer meal plan, it wasn’t like the gym was your first priority. 

“Stop trying to dirty my purity with your disgusting party things.” You say with a winded breath. Suddenly you are pushed to the floor due to Marks sudden push when you were distracted speaking. You glare at him as you cross your legs, not too interested in making an effort to get up. Mark sends you the same giddy smiles he always does and he makes a dive for your bed. 

“Your purity? Who are you even? You are the epitome of sin. Don’t lie in the face of God.” You get up fro your spot, finding a spot on your own bed to sit with him. He grabs your wrist and lifts it as if it actually obscures your body when he takes the time to scan your outfit. “This doesn’t look like a party outfit.”

You throw your wrist onto him, earning a quiet “ow” from his side. You roll your eyes, your gaze landing on your cluttered closet. A pretty ensemble hung neatly in contrast to the chaos behind it, giving away the fact that you had actually pondered going with him. But Mark is Mark, he would never notice.

“Just put on that outfit that’s hanging outside your closet. “ Mark says without looking at you and your lips part in surprise. A devious smile plays onto his lips along with his telling eyes that turn to you. “You aren’t sly.” He teases and you grudgingly get off your bed to sit at your desk.

“I’m busy.” You mumble, lifting a pencil, realizing that was the only motif of productivity that lay on your desk. You frantically grab a post-it note, pretending to feign business. 

“School just started. It is literally our second week of Freshman year. You ain’t got shit.”

You sigh, head falling onto your desk in defeat, “why must I go with you to this dumb party?” 

Mark gets up from the bed, walking behind you to place two hands on your shoulders. He shakes your body jokingly, moving you back and forth in your roller chair. 

“Because I’m rushing for Nu Kappa Tau, and I’m weak and prone to conformity so without you, I might die.”  He makes a good point, you think. But you still cannot bring yourself to be around a bunch of dumb frat boys for your night. You’ve had your share of high school parties, and you’re not interested in upgrading. 

“The party thing isn’t for me, I’m not really into it.” With this response, Mark turns your seat around and kneels down to meet your eyes. His hands still rest on your shoulder and his face means business.

“I will buy you food for a week if you go with me tonight.” 

You ponder his offer for a moment. Dining hall food is nice, but there were too many good restaurants on campus to pass it up. You take a deep breath and nod before Mark shoots up with an accomplished smile.

“So me dying means nothing to you, but food does. Alright, noted.” 

You shrug and stand from your spot, “Priorities, man.”

It takes longer than either of you would like to admit to get to the party. You spend 10 minutes convincing Mark to get out of your room while you change. But he insists that he’s known you long enough and it’s time to make the next milestone in your friendship. To which you retort that four months is hardly long enough, reminding him of the summer job you both hated and met at. He shudders at the thought of working for that hell hole of an amusement park. 

Once you finally exit your dorm, dolled up and all the works, Mark looks at you with a smile and hums a quiet “pretty” to himself that he hopes you don’t hear. Yet you do, and you can’t help but feel the slightest part of you actually light up with contentment. Did you actually just swoon for Mark Lee? Hell no. 

When you arrive, Mark exchanges his usual fist bumps and platonic ass slapping with his “bros” and you squint your eyes in disgust. One boy is adorned with an oversized jacket that dawns the letters NKT on the back. He sends a nod to Mark and catches a glimpse of you, sending Mark a thumbs up. You scoff and look to Mark who is disgustingly bobbing his head in agreement. You hit his arm and he immediately stops. The boy walks closer to the two of you.

“What’s up Mark? I knew I could count on you coming through tonight. House rules; you break it you pay for it, if you get too lit go to the fucking bathroom, and if the cops come, you’re underage so you don’t know us, we don’t know you. Got it?” He holds out a fist for Mark to bump and Mark let’s out a laugh. A peculiar sound really, more like a less forceful grunt to efficiently exude is “bro-ness.” The boy looks at you and smiles. “You a friend of Mark’s? I’m Johnny.” 

It surprises you how his frat boy-esque aura dissipates in the slightest form, and you figure if you met him under different circumstances, you might actually like him. You decorate yourself with the fakest smile, trying to hide the fact that you don’t care all that much for being here. It’s been a hot second, but you’ve already sorted out the people you want to talk to and the people you don’t. So far Mark and Johnny are the only ones who fall into the former category.

“I’m not Mark’s friend.” You answer with the sweetest smile, not sparing a single glance to Mark who looks at you offended. 

Mark awkwardly laughs, pushing your shoulder with a little too much force that your step falters, “No free food if you’re going to be mean.” His voice is patronizing and you know he overdoes it to tease you more. 

You rub the spot he pushes with a pout, “That vaguely sounds like you’re a dog trainer, I feel violated.”

He leans in closer, pockets stuffed with his hands and a devious smile hints on his expression. When he speaks, you can tell it’s meant to be a whisper, but it’s the kind that’s loud and obvious for the boy standing across,“Well you’re acting a lot like a bitch right now so I guess it’s fitting.” You part your lips, offended, readying your hands to punch him in the gut.

But Johnny coughs and interrupts your possible chance of getting arrested tonight. You wonder if that was on purpose. “Um so yeah, you guys been to a party yet this semester?” 

You both shake your head no, you a little less enthused than Mark. 

“Nah man, first college party. Hers too.” 

To this, Johnny smiles mischievously clapping his hands together as if prepping you for the night, “Dope, glad it’s NKT then. It’s your first college party, so have fun, get drunk, get laid alright?” He slaps a hand on Mark’s shoulder sending him a wink.

Mark side-eyes you as Johnny speaks, awaiting a reaction. You turn to him in disdain, a serious glare on your face. 

“If you leave my ass to get banged by some college ass I will drown you in the closest river, you frog.” Mark’s eyebrows raise and eyes widen as he struck my the slightest bit of fear that you might actually keep your word. He’s only known you for four months, but he knows he shouldn’t leave out any possibilities.

Johnny snaps his fingers and points back and forth between the two of you, “Oh shit, I didn’t know you two were a thing.” 

“We’re not. She’s just clingy, but she has a better meal plan than me so it’s not like I can do or say anything about it.” Mark says casually and you nod in approval for his remark. Johnny nods curiously to wave off the clear emotions going on between the two of you, one-sided or not.  He decides he should let you guys figure your shit out yourselves.

“Okay, okay. Well if it’s not a big deal then, I’m gonna have to steal Mark for a hot second. Go have fun y/n, there’s a lot to do.” You reach out for Mark thoughtlessly while he is suddenly pulled away by the arm. Yet Mark doesn’t really fight back, probably knowing that this was where the night was going. 

In mere seconds he’s pulled into the house and you can’t discern exactly where the trail goes as you lose sight of them when another tall boy stands in front of you. He’s tall, sweaty, and reeking very much of weed. 

He begins, a greasy smile, matching his greasy face, “Look, I’m no cop, but I think it’s a little illegal to look that good at a part-”

“No” is all you say before walking into the house to grab yourself a drink. 

More time passes and yet no sign of Mark has appeared. You spend your time sitting on the kitchen counter, sitting on the couch, and sitting on a lawn chair in the backyard. You’ve become acquainted with a few brothers, all not as douchey as you perceived them to be, but then again, you never saw Mark as the type either.

One of the boys, a third-year named Jaehyun, you recognize as the star basketball player and honestly, you wouldn’t have guessed otherwise. You’ve heard his name, seen his face, and watched his games on multiple occasions. In fact, almost all the boys in NKT never needed an introduction, all of them had something going on for them.

 Jaehyun gives you a dopey smile and the vibes of your usual boy next door when you see him up close, “First-year?” Is all he says when he walks into the kitchen to see you sipping your drinking without the least bit of urgency. You nod with a laugh and a shrug.

“Is it obvious?”

He shakes his head aggressively, almost spilling his drink when he waves his hands, “no it’s not that you look like one. It’s just that I haven’t seen you around, so I figured.”

“And you know everyone that comes to these parties?” You ask and take another sip of your drink. The alcohol stings your throat, but you haven’t nearly had enough to affect you. In fact, you’ve been nursing this drink for some time, not invested in losing control.

He shrugs and stands by the spot where you sit. His elbows support his weight on the counter as he leans back and looks up at you. 

“I’d remember you, that’s for sure.” He tilts his head toward you and sends you a look that is absolutely swoon-worthy and you cannot help but feel incredibly susceptible to his advances. You answer with a roll of your eyes to feign disinterest and prolonged hum before speaking.

“Does that work on all the girls?” You asked, trying to seem far less impressed than you actually were. Maybe it was his prince charming-esque attitude, a miracle boy in the sea of faces you don’t care to remember. Maybe it was the fact that he was Jung Jaehyun, dreamy upperclassmen with a few Basketball Championships under his belt. Point is, Jaehyun lived up to his name, probably far surpassing the praises. 

“Hmm, I’ll have to ask all the girls I’ve tried it on.” He says as he places a hand on his chin in thought as if trying to bring forth a complete list of names. A few seconds past and he turns back to you, “Did it work?”

You laugh at his effort, nodding your head to satisfy him and he laughs. The two of you talk more, about your classes, what he’s heard about your department, and if he would show you how to play basketball. The conversation goes seamlessly, and for a second you forget why you even came to this party in the first place, that was until your “why” comes fumbling into the kitchen. 

Mark’s got a red solo cup in his hand, probably empty from spilling it all over himself, and he reeks of too many substances he’s underage for. He spots you like a hawk searching for prey and is soon stumbling over to you. He grabs your hand and pulls you off the counter before sending Jaehyun an apologetic smile. Jaehyun laughs and slaps his hand against Mark’s shoulder like a proud father.

“You’ve got to see what I just did y/n” Mark slurs with a hiccup to end his sentence. He leans into you, his body warm and heavy. “I just did a backflip.”

You squint your eyes in disbelief, “Bet. You did not.”

“He didn’t, I was watching.” Another boy says as he trails behind him. He’s more composed, like most of the upperclassmen brothers and his features challenge the golden boy Jaehyun right next to you. The boy places a hand on Mark's shoulder to pull him away from you, the other on holding a cold beer. “Lil’ Markie her just jumped off the top of the stairs screaming ‘I am absolutely fully capable’ and ran straight here right after.”

Mark frowns and looks up at the dashingly handsome boy, “Yuta you’re making me look bad in front of my friend c’mon.” Yuta rolls his eyes and lightly pushes him. 

“Oh, your friend? This is the friend?” He looks at you with a knowing glance and leans down to meet your eyes, “Hey there y/n, you look grea-” 

Before Yuta finishes his sentence he is aggressively pushed away by your sloppy friend, causing Yuta’s drink to splatter on the both of you. You look down are your outfit, now starting to smell a little too much like Mark’s breath and your glare shoots up to meet Mark’s gaze. Jaehyun stifles a laugh and shakes his head, walking over to Yuta. He slings an arm around his shoulder and grabs the beer out of his hand.

“Ssstop hiiitting on herrr” Mark pleads and the boys both laugh before being distracting by the rest of brothers loud calls of their names. Jaehyun salutes you with a sweet smile before walking off.

“Hit me up sometime y/n, you can help me practice sometime.” All you can do is smile giddily at his offer while Mark looks at you in complete disgust. The second Jaehyun is no longer in your sights, you slowly turn to Mark, who’s playing with he sleeve of your sweater. When he looks at you, he looks like a lost puppy and a piece of you wants to have sympathy. You decide you’ll punch him when he’s sober.

A goofy grin is painted on Mark’s face though his eyes clearly struggle to focus on you. He sends you a cute “Hi” with an even cuter wave and it takes every piece of your will to not want to coddle him like a baby and take him home for the night. You sigh, scanning him up down, really getting a feel for the situation that stood before you.

Mark was never the most collected person. You noticed this when you worked with him, and he would often fumble with his words trying to talk to guest, or even worst, fumble in his step only to fall face first on the floor of the gift shop. Mark was a bit of a spazz, and it only gets worst when he’s drunk, you realize.  

You shift your weight to a hip, preparing to lecture your friend like a disappointed mother, “I lose you for what? An hour? and you’re already crossed. Who raised you?”

But Mark doesn’t show the slightest bit of regret, a smile playing on his lips as he watches you. His eyes are affectionate, so much so that you could feel it slap you in the face. He leans into your space more to speak, “Go on a date with me.” He requests, and you felt a piece of you twist deep down. His words signaled a sudden burst of warmth to shoot through you as if it’s something you were waiting for but hadn’t quite realized you wanted. 

Yet you shake off the butterflies and groan in disgust, “Ugh, so you’re this kind of drunk.” You attempt to walk away, but Mark grabs your hand and you feel as if your stomach might explode. When he turns you to him, he places a hand on your face, thumb rubbing your cheek gently. His eyes scan your expression and for a second you don’t know how terribly intoxicated he is. For a second you forget that you want to punch him in the gut. For a second you’re actually glad he dragged you to this dumb party. 

That is until his face turns pale and a look of horror is painted on both of your faces. Mark's eyes swing indecisively between your face, your dress, and your shoes, and he opts to bend down and release the contents of his stomach onto your discount shoes.You pat his back sympathetically and sigh. At least he had the decency to not aim for your face.  A charmer, he is.

When you wake up in the morning, with Mark rudely taking up most of your tiny bed, you’re angry. Mark can tell when he wakes up from the way you slam your poor makeup utensils on your desk. That and the fact you woke him up with a punch to his gut and an “I’m seriously so fucking pissed at you, you jerk.”

Mark was ever so the intuitive type

He rubs his head, the excruciating ringing in his head feeling more intense when he gets up. He looks at your morning state, naturally alluring and equally frustrating just like remembers. He still wears his clothes from last night, the stench from last night overwhelmingly awful. He reaches for his phone, only to realized it’s shattered and dawns twenty text messages from different numbers. One from his ex and they didn’t seem too happy about his several audio calls. 

Mark still swears he’s a heavyweight.

“And yet you still look as ethereal as ever after a night of partying,” Mark says with a shameless smile and a cute laugh and you try your very best to wave off his comment. You’re still trying to decipher how you felt about his gestures toward you, but at the moment, you’re also still thinking about your $9 shoes that you have yet to figure out how to clean. 

“That’s because I’m not an idiot. Idiot.” You say with a glare and Mark holds his hand up defensively.

“Hey, I was just living the college life. It’s all part of the process.” You stare at him for a moment, wondering if he as planning on addressing his attempt to breach your friendship line, but you figure that you knew him better than that. Mark was a lot of things, but a confronter he was not.

“Last time I checked, attempting backflips and shamelessly hitting on girls is a little too far don’t you think?” You answer, wondering just how many other girls he got too close to. A piece of you didn’t want to know.

He laughs at your answer, “Girls? You mean girl.”

“I don’t know what you did in that hour I lost you.” You say plainly, “Do I even want to know really?” You fake a shudder and he looks at you disappointedly.

“Well I was with myself the whole night and I can tell you, there were no girls,” He quotes the last word before dropping his hands to his sides,” you’re the only girl I wanted to hit on.” You look at him confused and he sighs loudly before continuing, “Being drunk I have ten times the confidence to actually look you in the eyes and tell you how crazy you make me. But no, you had to go off and be the absolute goddess you always were and fuck it up and make me nervous even with all of my sensibility gone. Can’t you be unappealing just once. For me?” 

The two of you look at each other for a moment, and neither of you knows what to say. This was it. This was what you were waiting for, and you finally let the butterflies in your stomach fly free. It was a feeling you don’t think anyone else could give, except for the dumb lightweight of a friend that looked at you like you were the sun and annoyed you at all hours of the day. Not even third-year basketball star Jaehyun that asked you to practice with him could replicate it. 

“I can see your still dellusional from last night huh?” You joke, trying to clear the air and Mark throws his hands in the air in frustration before laying back on his bed.

“For a scholarship kid, you are seriously so dense.” He says annoyed and you simply get up from your spot, grabbing your pack of gum from your bag. Once retrieved, you find a spot on your bed, laying on your side so your facing Mark’s hungover frame. You hand him a piece of gum with a sweet smile and Mark’s face lights up as he accepts the offer.

“Hit on me sober. You’re better at it.”

[thatishogwash]

Yessssss!!!! Tanaka x Tsukishima and maybe a period drama? You can go with any society so like Japan, england, etc, I just wanna see what you do with it :D

*dusts off my history degree* I knew you would come in handy one day! But really, I got so excited when I saw this because 1) I love period dramas, I watch North and South on netflix at least once a week and 2) I love history!

I tried to stay as historically accurate as possible but I took a couple liberties here and there (also there’s some modern slang in there so we’ll just say it’s like A Knights Tale level of accurate) but hopefully you still like it!

AO3

1868

Kei fights his way through the panicking and growing crowd.  There’s shouting and he can hear someone trying to shout orders over everyone but no one is listening as the army advances in Edo.  Kei stops fighting against the agitated crowd and takes a side street, his clothes sticking to him in the too-hot summer day.  He can feel anxiety worming it’s way through him, worry that he will never find who he is looking for in a city as big as Edo and so full of people.  But he fights those feelings down, finds himself dismissing the errant thoughts one by one because they are not helpful and he has no time for such distractions.

The alley leads out into another main street, though this one has already been cleared.  Kei makes his way down swiftly, knowing of just one place he could be.

It goes against everything Kei has worked for, everything he believes in and has taught himself to be doing such an action.  He should head back to his ship and inform the captain that they are leaving right away.  He had no business being in the middle of an uprising in Japan’s capital.  He had even been warned beforehand and he had plenty of time to pack up and save his own interests but instead he was covered in sweat and running down the street towards his destination.

Kei didn’t have to ask how he got there, he knew how this all began and he partially cursed his younger self for being so stupid.  If he hadn’t wandered off then none of this would have happened.

1857

Kei didn’t understand why his father had to do business in Japan during the summer.  He thought it got sweltering in Stockholm but that was nothing compared to Edo.  He almost envied those dressed in their summer kimonos while he wore several layers of a suit, the newest and most sought after fashion back in Sweden.  Kei thought he might die of heat exhaustion in it.

Lately Kei found himself angry all the time.  It festered inside him, boiling over into his every interaction.  He wanted to go home, he was just 15 and he had plans of his own.  But then his elder brother had run off and Kei had suddenly found himself in line for the head of the house, along with the large company his father ran.  To discourage Kei from following in his  brothers footsteps, the elder Tsukishima brought his son along on his trip to Japan.

Kei’s father was a wealthy Swedish businessman who had married a pretty Japanese woman.  Kei thought it all had to do with looks considering neither spoke a word of the others language.  Kei had been raised to speak Swedish and English, Japanese had been taught as a third language.  He had thought he did remarkably well in it but the way his mother spoke and taught it was much different than how it was done in busy Edo.

There were so many people, crowding and pushing around Kei and he just needed room to breathe and think.  He stumbled into an alley with an inaudible sigh as he reached up to to loosen the knot at his throat.  A voice came from behind him and Kei turned to see three leering men following him, speaking Japanese and motioning to him.

Kei scowled but knew it was particularly useless.  He towered over most people but he didn’t have any build or musculature to back it up.  They kept talking, sneering at him and pointing to his waist and Kei knew they were trying to rob him.  Which would have been fine really, if he had a coin purse on him or any money at all, which he did not.

A dagger was pulled on Kei, who stumbled and his back hit the wall as he stared down at the blade.  His throat went dry and he couldn’t force words out of his mouth even if he wanted to.

“What’s all this about?”  A voice called down the aisle before a man appeared.  Kei didn’t think he could be that much older than himself but what seemed to make everyone pause was the two swords strapped to the left side of his waist.  The men who had attempted to rob Kei bowed, spitting out apologies before darting away.  Kei watched them go with a sort of disconnect.

Kei startled as the man with the swords stopped in front of him, brows furrowed as he tilted his head.  Kei realized he had slid down the wall quite a bit and stood up to straighten his posture.

“Careful.”  The man instructed before frowning slightly.  “You can’t understand a word I’m saying, can you?”  He grinned at that and Kei scowled.

“I’m not an imbecile, I can understand you just fine.”  Kei snapped back in Japanese.  Instead of looking offended the man just laughed.

“Then why didn’t you give them your coin?  Was it worth your life?”  He asked, his amusement rubbing Kei the wrong way.

“I didn’t give it to them because I don’t have any.”  Kei turned to storm away but the heat and the loss of adrenaline made his head swim, causing him to list to the side and slam into the wall once more for support.  “I don’t know your help.”  He grumbled as the man stepped closer.

“Listen boy, you can continue to be a little shit or you can grow up and accept some help.”  The man swung Kei’s arm around his shoulder, Kei could feel the bunch of muscle underneath him as he leaned against the stranger.  “I’m Tanaka by the way, not that you asked.”  There was annoyance there but still the edge of amusement stayed.  Kei felt his face burn more because he was taught manners and this man had assisted him, twice.

“Kei.”  Kei muttered and Tanaka looked surprised once more as Kei remembered that here they went by family names, only those who are trusted and close were called by their first name.  Kei didn’t care, he didn’t want to be known by the name attached to his father or his brother, for once he just wanted to be himself.  So he stubbornly refused to give his last name even if it was considered rude.

1868

There weren’t many times that Kei wished he was something other than he was.  At 26 he had long since accepted that he would be taller than a good majority of the population and while he would never be largely muscular, which was not in fashion anyways, he was lean and had spent years making sure he could defend himself.

As Kei crouched down and hid from oncoming soldiers he wished he was smaller.  He was too easily spotted, his hair making him stick out even more.  But he was almost to his destination and he was clever, he could get there without being caught.  He had to because he had no other choice.

Kei wasn’t leaving without Ryuu, it wasn’t going to happen.

1860

Kei walked behind his father and the wealthy merchants he had gone into business with.  Japan was in a state of isolation, so most deals were done illegally.  Whenever he tried to bring it up with his father it was brushed away, saying everyone knew what they were there for and they would be fine.

The sprawling palace that the shogun, the emperor of Japan, lived in was beyond several hills.  Kei had to admit he was quite curious about it and the young shogun who lived there.  He was said to be only a few years older than Kei himself, he couldn’t imagine ruling a country at 20.  He had whispers from the woman about how handsome their shogun was, Sawamura Daichi, how nicely he filled out his clothes before they broke off into giggles.

“Yes, those are the samurais.”  One of the translators spoke, answering a question Kei had missed.  Kei turned towards the training soldiers, his breath catching in his throat as he spotted one in particular.  “The one leading them, he is a highly respected daimyo, and so young too.”

Kei’s eyes went back to the daimyo in question.  His broad back was in full display, it seemed that Kei had seen him wearing less clothes more often than more.

“Daimyo?”  One of the other Swedish men asked.

“A vessel to the shogun, they own land but lord Tanaka has always chosen to remain guarding our imperial majesty.”  The translator explained.

Kei watched Tanaka as he usually did when the man was in his vicinity.  Kei didn’t know what attracted his attention to the other man so often, though he always complained it was because Tanaka was so loud.  It was simply because Tanaka demanded attention, whether he was speaking or not.

Kei had no idea that Tanaka was close to the shogun, he had thought he was just a mere footsoldier.  It made sense, Tanaka never had a crossword to say about the shogun but was always happy to answer any question Kei had about this foreign land he often found himself in.

Tanaka turned from where he had been instructing a younger man on the proper way to hold his sword, his eyes seemingly seeking out Kei’s before they landed on him.  Tanaka’s smile was big and board as always, giving a big wave before turning back to his students.

“He is friendly.”  Someone said as they continued to move on.  Kei stayed to the back and kept his smile to himself, knowing that the wave and more importantly, the smile, had been directed at him.

1868

Kei thought it shouldn’t be so easy to sneak into a palace but people were rather preoccupied with the currently uprising to pay him much attention.  Many had come to know his face over the years, Ryuu had a permanent room here after all and Kei was often times an overnight guest.  Kei hadn’t seen much more than Ryuu’s quarters though and the palace was a huge monstricity, making it particularly difficult to find one particular samurai.

“Looking for something?”  A sly voice asked, somehow he spoke Kei’s homelands language without even a stutter.  Kei turned and scowled over at a familiar face.

Kuroo Tetsurou wasn’t someone Kei had wanted to become acquainted with, but his master was quite interested in bringing Japan into the worlds fold.  Kei considered himself a clever individual, an expensive education accounted for some of that but he tended to use people’s weaknesses against them.  His father had kept the family business alive but Kei had made it thrive.

Kei could never get a good read on Kuroo though, the man seemed to be constantly smirking, amused about something or another.  Ryuu had never trusted him and Kei couldn’t blame him.  But Kuroo had warned Kei about the attack, perhaps he assumed Kei would pack up and go back home to avoid being thrown into a civil war but instead he had gone to the very place the uprisers were marching towards, the palace.

“Are you?”  Kei replied back in Japanese, the smirk spreading further across Kuroo’s admittedly handsome face.

“I believe what we are both looking for can be found in the same place and it’s best if I’m the one who found them, don’t you agree?”  Kuroo asked and Kei felt a trickle of sweat go down his face.  He was out of breath from running around, his chest felt like it was on fire but Kuroo looked as if he was merely out for a stroll.  Infuriating man.

“I don’t have time for your mind games.”  Kei continued walking, not surprised when Kuroo easily kept pace with him despite Kei’s longer legs.  “Are you going to kill the emperor?”  Kei couldn’t help but ask, fearing the answer.  Isn’t that what happened when royalty was usurped?  If the emperors life was in danger, Kei feared that Ryuu would never leave his side no matter what it meant to his own life.

But Kuroo didn’t answer, just smirked and continued to follow Kei in silence.  Kei tried not to let that bother him.

1862

Kei felt distinctly uncomfortable as his father laughed with the other businessmen and their translators along with the prostitutes who hid their smiles behind the sleeves of their kimonos.  Kei knew business was conducted in the brothels in Edo because his father had been dragging him along since he turned 18 but he still couldn’t shake the feel of unease.

Kei told himself it was because his mother was barely buried before his father came to such a place but he knew his father had been coming for years now.  His mother had always been the good and proper wife, small and delicate, a woman who only spoke her husbands opinion and very little else.  The older Kei got the more he wondered if his mother had ever experienced happiness and if he would be stuck in the same situation as she had been.

Pushing himself away from the table, Kei exited the room when he was sure everyone was too drunk on sake to notice his leaving.  He didn’t want any of the prostitutes his father was constantly pushing on him nor did he consider any of the woman back home who twittered and stared at him from a respectable distance.  Kei had very little interest in woman at all for that matter but he knew his time was drawing short, he would need to marry soon and have children.  It was what was expected of him.

A familiar boisterous laugh catches Kei’s attention.  He feels the urge to roll his eyes because naturally tanaka is here and naturally he’s being loud about it.

Kei finds himself walking towards the door instead of away from it.  He’s long accepted that there must be something wrong with him to be so drawn to Tanaka.  Tanaka, who was brash and loud, who gets angry at the smallest of things but is quick to forgive.  Tanaka and his inability to keep his goddamn kimono on.

Kei heard the voices of both men and women, talking and enjoying their time together.  Kei felt his stomach drop as he heard Tanaka request something from one of the prostitutes.

Before Kei could walk away the door was pulled open and he looked down into a familiar face.  Yachi looked panicked for a moment before a smile crossed her face when she looked up, and up into Kei’s face.

“Hello Tsukishima-san, can I help you?”  Yachi bowed politely as Kei stepped back so he wasn’t crowding her space.

“Tsukki!”  Kei cringed and tried to walk away quickly but Tanaka was already on him.

Even though Kei was skilled in Japanese, much more than he was when he first met Tanaka, his father insisted that he have a guide with him.  Yamaguchi Tadashi had been terribly timid, bordering on pathetic when they first met.  As the years went on Kei was glad for a companion his own age, though he’d never willingly admit that.  But the one thing he regretted was allowing Tadashi to call him ‘Tsukki’.  The other boy hadn’t felt comfortable calling him Kei when they first met, nearly broke out in hives when Kei insisted.  So he allowed the nickname and after years of its use Kei didn’t even cringe when hearing it anymore.

Until Tanaka had overheard it and now used it to torture Kei.  Kei was trying to make his escape but even drunk, Tanaka was wickedly fast and managed to catch Kei before he had taken two steps.  Kei refused to believe he had allowed himself to be caught.

“Don’t run away Tsukki.”  Tanaka laughed but his grip was tight around Kei’s forearm.  Not enough to hurt, despite his brash and sometimes aggressive behavior Tanaka was surprisingly gentle.  HIs kimono was also gaping open and Kei couldn’t stop from looking at the skin revealed there.

The moment was broken by Kei’s fathers loud voice, calling for his son and asking for the most experienced woman in the brothel.  Kei felt his face fall but he also felt grounded from the hold on his arm and Tanaka’s dark eyes.

“Ya-chan?”  Tanaka asked, turning his head towards the tiny woman who stepped closer.  “Do you have a private room free?”  Kei felt his face flame but he didn’t resist as Tanaka pulled him after Yachi, who led them to the last room in the long hall, far away from his father’s room.

Tanaka slipped Yachi money and asked for some food before ushering Kei into the room.  Kei pulled away from the other man, trying to compose himself.  It was usually relatively easy but everything always seemed to fall apart when Tanaka was near.

“I don’t need food.”  Kei stated, knowing he was just being difficult at this point.  Tanaka laughed and poked at Kei’s stomach.

“There’s barely anything there, you need some meat on your bones.”  Tanaka grinned up at him and Kei found himself looking down at where the material of Tanaka’s kimono gaped to show most of his chest and stomach.

“We can’t all be built like you.”  Kei stated, realized his hand was reaching out to touch and dropped it to his side.  Tanaka was tilting his head at Kei, face quite serious for once.

“You’re welcome to touch if you want.”  Tanaka finally stated and Kei felt his face heat up once more.  He did want to touch and to look even more but it was such a foreign concept to Kei.  Kei had recently accepted that he just wouldn’t ever have the sort of attraction that men gossiped about towards women, it just wasn’t in him.  But it wasn’t as if he felt any of those feelings towards men either.

Then Tanaka Ryuunosuke came and ruined all of that, everything Kei had worked hard to accept about himself was blown away.  It wasn’t like that in the beginning, Kei thought it might have just started this summer.  He wouldn’t admit it but he liked spending time with Tanaka, he was honest and straight forward when no one else in Kei’s life was and he seemed to care about Kei, not because his family was wealthy or he made a ‘good match’ but just Kei.  He trusted Tanaka with his secrets, how he felt betrayed by his brother and how he didn’t much like his father and how guilty he felt about his mother’s passing because he knew nothing about her.

Recently it had gone from wanting to spend time with Tanaka to wanting to be near him, close to him.  Kei wanted to see if Tanaka’s hair was as coarse as it looked, or if perhaps it was deceptively soft.  Kei wanted to press his lips against Tanaka’s, feel his grin and swallow down his laughter.  But they had always been out in public and Kei knew those sort of feelings, those urges weren’t acceptable to have, not towards another man.

But Kei found himself taking that step as he usually did in Tanaka’s presence.  He moved closer and bent down, pushing his lips against Tanaka’s surprised mouth before pulling back just as quickly, wondering if he had been mistaken as Tanaka blinked up at him.

“Have you never kissed anyone?”  Tanaka asked, his laughter bubbling up and making Kei want to push him away.

“No, have you?”  Kei found himself answering honestly, watching as Tanaka’s laughter died down but his wide grin was still spread across his face.

“You’re gonna bust someone’s lip open if you come in like that.”  Tanaka said instead of answering Kei.  He cupped Kei’s face, hands rough and calloused but still gentle as he angled Kei’s head down.  “Kissing a woman or a man, whichever doesn’t matter.  We all want to be kissed softly, at least the first time around.”  And then Tanaka did kiss him softly, barely there pressure that had Kei wanting to lean closer, to breath Tanaka in.

They were interrupted by Yachi bringing food before anything more could happen.  Which was probably for the best, Kei wasn’t sure if he even wanted more to happen though Tanaka seemed enthusiastic.  Yachi seemed more embarrassed about interrupting than she did about two men kissing and as Kei allowed Tanaka to feed him, both of them catching the other up on what they were doing in the time they hadn’t seen each other, Kei wondered if that was normal here.

1868

“Tsukishima?”  Ryuu asked and Kei tried not to let the use of his last name bother him as Ryuu held his katana out at the ready.  “You.”  Ryuu spat out as Kuroo followed behind him.  Kuroo didn’t look bothered by the katana aimed at him, his own hand resting on the sword at his waist.

Kei had seen the emperor from a distance several times, had heard about him enough times from Ryuu to have a vivid picture in his head of the other man thought of in the same respect as a god by so many.  Sawamura Daichi stood shorter than Ryuu, though not by an significant amount, but he was broader all the way through.  His eyes were wide and a dark brown, with a square jawline and an impressive determined expression on his face.  He looked neither worried nor cowed in anyway.

“Ryuu, we need to get out of here.”  Kei tried but Ryuu’s eyes remained on the enemy soldier in the room.

“You should listen to him.”  Kuroo advised, causing both Ryuu and Sawamura’s eyes to narrow.  “The rest of my men should be here soon.  We don’t want anymore blood shed.”

“You dare threaten our imperial highness?”  Ryuu spat out, hands tightening on the hilt of his katana, shoulders tensing.  Kei didn’t know who would win in a fight, Kuroo or Ryuu but he didn’t want to find out so he stepped in the way.  He forced Ryuu’s attention on himself but it was Kuroo who spoke up.

“No harm will come to Sawamura-sama.”  Kuroo stated, which seemed to surprise all of them.  “As I said, we don’t want to shed anymore blood.  If they killed our imperial majesty then we would have an uprising on our hands.  He will live a very long and happy life outside of the capital.”

“You think I will believe you?  After conning your way in-” But Ryuu was cut off by Sawamura placing his hand upon his shoulder.  Ryuu’s eyes widened but he didn’t move a single muscle.

“Your word that Tanaka walks away unharmed.”  It was the first time hearing the emperor’s voice.  It was thick and deep, commanding and yet there was something about it that eased Kei’s worries.  Ryuu opened his mouth but the emperor continued speaking.  “Your word Kuroo.”  No honorific added, which either meant an insult or there was a closeness between them.

“You have my word.”  Even Kei had to turn to look at Kuroo, saw the flash of something undeniably soft in the other man’s usually hard face as he looked over Ryuu’s shoulder towards Sawamura.

“Please go with Tsukishima-san.”  The emperor said, making Ryuu turn around in shock.  Kei was left speechless also, he had no idea the emperor knew who he was.  Kei had always known that Ryuu was loyal to his emperor, that there was clear love there that Kei would never be able to understand.  He always assumed it went one way but now he wasn’t so sure.

“I cannot leave you at such a time, no matter what that man says, he’s been lying to us this whole time.”  Ryuu said quickly, pleadingly.  If Kei hadn’t been watching so closely he might have missed the shame that momentarily flashed on Kuroo’s face.

“Heed my last order Ryuu, go with Tsukishima-san and live happily.  You would not ignore the last order I’ve given you, will you?”  Sawamura smiled and even Kei felt affected by it, warmed from the inside out.  Ryuu reluctantly slid his katana back in the sheath, eyes downcast and usually tanned cheeks pale.  “You have served me honorably, I wish our time could have been longer but that is not our destiny.”

“Sawamura-sama.”  Ryuu whispered, tears rolling down his face unashamedly.

“You will take care of him.”  Kei stood up straighter when he realized the emperor was addressing him.  He thought of saying something but in the end found himself bowing fully at the waist for the first time.  “Go now.”  Sawamura ordered, speaking to Ryuu once again.  Kei grabbed his sleeve and pulled him out of the room, glancing back only once to see Kuroo moving closer to the emperor, reaching out with hesitation to brush his fingers against Sawamura’s tightly closed fist.

Kei turned his back on them as he picked up speed, never dropping Ryuu’s sleeve once.

1864

Kei laid in the futon next to Ryuu, staring up at the ceiling and trying not to think too hard.  He couldn’t help it though, he felt the sweat drying on his body, the heaviness of the air against his skin, the way everything around him seemed to be saturated with Ryuu’s smell, his very being.  Kei cringed slightly as he rolled to his side, trying to ignore the stiffness and the soreness of certain parts of his body.

Ryuu’s eyes were closed and there was a certain stillness about him that made Kei believe he hadn’t fallen asleep.  There was a flush still on his cheeks and he hadn’t even used the blanket to cover up as Kei had.

“Do you regret it?”  Kei found himself asking because there had always been a level of honesty shared between them.  Ryuu probably didn’t even know how to lie, though Kei found himself doing it often in his normal life.

“No.”  Ryuu looked over at Kei with heavy lidded eyes that appear black in the dim lighting.  “Do you?”

Kei frowned as he thought about it.  He never felt any pressure to push whatever was going on between them further.  Ryuu seemed happy, even when Kei was purposefully being an asshole and they did nothing but bicker.  Kei had liked kissing Ryuu, liked touching and being touched by the other man but they had never gone further than that.

Kei’s father had died during the winter, leaving the business to Kei.  Akiteru had come back, claiming he just wanted to help Kei in anyway he could but he didn’t know if that was true.  Everything seemed to be changing but when he had arrived in Edo, Ryuu had stayed the same.  He was a steady presence Kei had come to depend on and for the first time he wondered if there should be more between them.

“Have you done this many others?”  Kei asked instead of answering Ryuu’s question.  He didn’t regret it, he didn’t think there was anything he did with Ryuu that he could regret.

“A few.”  Ryuu answered, always honest.  He turned onto his own side and reached out to run his hand through Kei’s curly hair.  Kei felt himself melt a little at the touch, though he tried not to show it.  He was sure Ryuu had caught onto his affections after all these years.

“I’ve never felt this way about another person.”  Kei confessed because it was just Ryuu and him in the room and he had already bared his heart to the other man.  “Not towards a woman or a man.”

“I’m your first in every sense of the word.”  Ryuu stated, sounding arrogant and Kei opened one eye to glare at the other man.  Ryuu moved closer despite it already being too hot in the dark room.

“I always thought there was something wrong with me, I do not feel the way others do.”  Kei said.  Even sex had been more of a curiosity than a need, though he had never wanted to do it with anyone until Ryuu came along and that was only after years of knowing him.

“Some can fuck another with no attachment, but some require a closeness of souls and even then, some simply have no interest in it.”  Ryuu trailed his hand down Kei’s face.  “I am fine if you never want to do this again, though if you do want to I am always here.”  He grinned at Kei, who clicked his tongue in annoyance even as he felt a flood of relief.

“You make it sound so easy.”  Kei grumbled, causing Ryuu to grin.

“Kei, I think even if I had never met you I would feel a vital part of myself missing.”  Kei leaned over and kissed Ryuu because what else was there to say?

1868

Kei stepped into his cabin on the ship.  After boarding he had to discuss a few things with the captain and had left Ryuu there, hoping that the other man would still be there when he returned.  Intense relief washed over him as he stepped towards the samurai who was gazing out the port window.

“Do I need to tie you to my bed?”  Kei asked.  The lost look disappeared from Ryuu’s eyes as his head snapped in Kei’s direction.  “You’re not thinking of flinging yourself overboard for honor or something silly like that, are you?”  A frown appeared between Ryuu’s brow as he placed a hand on his katana.  “Ryuu?”  Kei asked worriedly when the other man didn’t answer.

“I’m thinking about threatening to do it just to get you to tie me down.”  Ryuu grinned as Kei let out a noise of annoyance before closing the distance between them.

“Do you hate me for taking you away?”  Kei asked.

“I’ve I hadn’t of wanted to come, I wouldn’t have.”  Ryuu answered honestly and Kei found himself nodding.  He had height over Ryuu but that was about it, cleverness against Ryuu’s years of training would get Kei no where.  “Do you really think that man will keep his word?”

“I have no idea what Kuroo’s thinking.”  Kei stated truthfully but continued on before Ryuu could look too worried.  “But I think he separated from his men and risked his life to escort your imperial highness to safety.  I think he knew taking in the emperor would stop the majority of the fights that had broken out.  I don’t think he planned liking the emperor as much as he did either.”  Ryuu grinned at that, looking proud as he glanced out the window once more.

“If I hear even a rumor that the shogun is being mistreated I’ll kill him.”  Ryuu said roughly and Kei didn’t have it in him to tell Ryuu that Sawamura Daichi was no longer shogun.  “My family has served the Sawamura’s for generations.  I do not know what to do now.”

“I can take you anywhere you want to go.”  Kei offered but continued with his heart in his throat.  “But perhaps you would like to work for me?”

“You have a need for an ousted samurai?”  Ryuu asked, stepping closer to Kei and relieving his worries with an almost too-wide grin.

“I do find myself in dangerous situations sometimes.”  Kei said as he lowered his head, letting Ryuu reach the last distance to gently press their lips together.  “But you have to call me Tsukishima-sama.”  Ryuu gasped and Kei couldn’t help the laughter that burst out of him at his indignant look.

[brannonstravelblog-blog]

I’m Alive!

Life Update: 

I have successfully made it back home to Hawai’i from the most adventurous and fun semester so far! Since I never blogged the last few weeks due to the stress of finals and traveling I will provide you with little updates on what I did since I last saw Jasmine and Gavin in Rome! 

The weekend after Jasmine and Gavin left back for London, I was suppose to go to Croatia with the company Smart Trips. Smart Trips and Bus to Alps are two companies based in Europe providing students with either day trips, weekend trips, or spring/winter break trips to places in and around Italy. It is a nice way to tour places without having the hassle to book transportation and lodging as it is usually included and at a reasonable cost. It is also nice because you have a fellow students (99% of them are from LdM) to travel with you and they plan activities with tour guides that are not much older than us. 

My Smart trips was unfortunately cancelled due to low booking so I can’t give you an accurate review on them but I heard many great things so be sure to check them out! 

I ended up booking a cheap last minute flight to London to visit Jasmine and Gavin since they were on summer break already. 

Finals: 

Finals at LdM are set up the exact same as midterms. Be sure to expect 2.5 hour long finals with are mostly essay based. None of my finals were cumulative and it was easier to prepare for the second time around as I knew exactly what to expect. It is almost July and I have yet to receive my grades back on my STAR so lets keep our fingers crossed! 

Traveling: 

After the semester I said a tearful goodbye to my host mom to travel around Europe and Africa for two weeks. I went to Paris, Amsterdam, Berlin, Brussels, Prague, Barcelona, Morocco, and then London again. I highly recommend all those places especially Prague and Morocco! Morocco is only a 2 hour flight from Spain but it is such a different experience from Europe! It is so close and so cheap. I ended up doing a 3 day and 2 night tour which lead me to ride a camel ride into the Sahara desert and camp under the stars in the Sahara. It was truly breathtaking! I recommend doing a tour instead of venturing by yourself as it is safer and you get to see way more. I did a high atlas mountain tour with the best tour guide Ali! His company is Morocco Joy Travel and I could not stress how nice he is and how good his tour was! He was so funny, had a nice clean van with wifi, and our tour was only with 6 other people so we were a lot more personable! I actually made friends with two Australians on the tour who lived in London and we actually met up in London the following week to go to a bar and club to celebrate her birthday! 

Tips: 

Now let me share with you some of the most important tips and tricks to studying in Italy! 

1) Eurail Pass

I can't stress how important this is to get BEFORE leaving the US. The Eurail Pass allows anywhere from 3-8 days per month of free train travel (depending on the package selected). I would choose the 8 days a month as you will be using Italiarail/Trenitalia frequently to travel within Italy. I think they have Eurail passes for all of Europe as well but you probably won't be taking the train outside of Italy frequently enough to warrant it. I believe you can only get it when you're still in the US so be sure to make that one of your priorities!

2) Safety 

Italy is as safe as any developed country can be but with big crowds and tourist comes risk of pit pocketing. Always be sure to keep your phone and wallet in your front pocket or in your purse that is zipped shut! Never in your backpack or in your back pocket! Time and time again I would hear from either my friends or classmates that they got pit pocketed! They are very sly and they watch people in crowds, unzip bags without you noticing, create distractions, and even work with more than one person. I hope I am not scaring you off from studying in Europe but it is the reality you will face. As long as you are aware of your surroundings and belongings you should be fine! Also during orientation week LdM will go into further detail on methods they use to pit pocket people and how to be more protected.

Also be very aware of con artist. They are present all throughout Europe. In Florence, men will lay 6 to 8 posters on the ground in a busy square so someone will step on it. After it is stepped on they will force the person to buy it off of them. Always be aware of your surroundings and if this happens to you call the police as what they are doing is illegal and they will avoid confrontation with the police. 

3) Bring multiple credit cards and one or two debit cards! 

This relates to the previous tip as in the event you do get pit pocketed or if your card gets declined you would have a spare one. This means never carry more than one credit or debit card in the same wallet at the same time just in case. 

Credit cards are better as they are harder to get your information stolen and if it has no foreign transaction fees it won't charge you extra like your debit card. I only used my debit card to withdraw Euros from the ATM. I only used a legit ATM from an actual bank so I would have less chances of getting my debit information stolen and I wouldn't be charged as much with fees.

Make sure your credit and debit is either a Master Card or Visa. I went up with only my Visa debit and Discover credit and realized Italy does not accept Discover and hardly accepts AMEX. I had to apply for a Master Card and have it shipped to my house and then have my parents ship it to Italy. Not only was it expensive but it took 3 weeks. So the first month I was basically just using cash.

4) Hostels 

When traveling throughout Italy and Europe I stayed at hostels. I used Hostelworld.com to help me find the best and cheapest hostels. It helps keep the budget low and allowed me to travel to so many places for so cheap. Do not be afraid as you will be probably traveling with friends and most have age limits! They also provide you with lockers so make sure to bring your lock from home! Most hostels are modern, clean, and cater to college students! I have met some nice students from other countries in my hostels too!

 When traveling try not to bring expensive things like your laptop or nice clothes unless you absolutely need them! We do not want the added risk of them getting stolen also bring all your cash and cards with you just to be on the safe side!  

5) Pack the appropriate clothes! 

This should have been the first bullet on this list! I studied in the Spring semester from January to May so take this with a grain of salt for the people studying in the Fall! Italians are very conservative but also very stylish. In January it is cold. It will hit the low thirties and this will stay until March when it SLOWLY begins to rise. By May the temp would still hover around high fifties to low sixties. It barely hit above seventies but when it did the Italians would still wear heavy jackets, jeans, boots, and scarves! 

I packed over 5 shorts, countless T-shirts, and sandals all for it to be used only once for my spring break in Greece and a little in Rome! I am not being over dramatic when I say I have never seen a local Italian’s knees or toes because all they do is wear jeans or slacks and shoes or boots! I ended up using my same 3 jeans all the time and eventually buying a few new pairs to spice things up! If you do decide to wear shorts and open toed shoes  or sandals you will just look like a tourist and will get weird looks. Pack a lot of sweaters, long sleeves, jackets, jeans, and shoes! 

I really hope reading my blogs have either inspired you to study in Florence or helped you prepare for it! I got cold feet the weeks leading up to my departure but I assure you this will be one of best, if not the best semester of college! Have so much fun but always be safe! If you have any other questions please feel free to reach me through my Facebook or Instagram even if we haven't met or if this is 3 years after I wrote this! My instagram handle is @brannonkusumoto  Buona Fortuna! 

[spinji]

Human Boyfriend 101 Chapter 5:

A gift can be something to break the ice. But without an understanding of your lover it is plenty disastrous

Dipper stared out the window of the gift shop as he swept the dusty floor. After Bill’s little visit he immediately told his great uncle, Stanford. This greatly shocked and concerned him and he took protective measures before he could even unpack his bags from being away at sea. It was then that Dipper was thankful for the extra anti-weirdness shield materials Ford had carefully stored in case of a similar threat. Or, in this case, the exact same one.

They just barely had enough unicorn hair to trace the edge of the shack, something that had made Dipper a bit tense as the pile grew thinner while they applied it. From what he heard about the ordeal to get the hair from Mable, he’d rather not have anyone endure that again. A cruel scam, illegal trafficking, a break in, and a bloody fist fight. Although Dipper had considered part of that to be his sister’s imagination going crazy, the biggest similarity between her and Gravity Falls is no one knew what they would throw at you next, both figuratively and literally.

“Head’s up!” Dipper was knocked to the floor as a surprisingly dense pink yarn ball hit him square in the face. “Oops, I was supposed to catch that. Sorry dude.” Soos chuckled, picking up the ball and chucking it back to Mabel as more balls of yarn began to fly.

Dipper snickered and rolled his eyes, though decided not to get involved in their battle. He went back to sweeping as an excuse to stare the floor. He heard Stan quickly scold Mabel and Soos before having them clean up the yarn. Soon enough Dipper was alone with nothing but his chores and his thoughts.

WHAM!

The boy jumped as he heard something hit the screen door near him. He turned around, holding the broom in front of him as if it would serve as a functioning weapon for whatever was outside. He didn’t hear anything moving around, and were there...flower petals caught in the screen? Dipper lowered his broom and approached the door, plucking the smooth violet petal from the ripped and twisted screen.

He opened the door, now more curious than fearful. He groaned. “Mabel!” a large bouquet of flowers rested on the doorstep, a mix of blue, indigo, and bright yellow flowers were piled into a soft light blue silk, a card stuck to the fabric.

Mabel poked her head around the corner with a grin. “What’s up bro-bro?” Dipper sighed and picked up the flowers. “You got present from someone.” Mabel gasped excitedly and swiped the flowers from his hands. “Did you already get another boyfriend? Or...oh god please tell me that isn’t from Gideon.” The more he thought about that the more the bouquet seemed to smell of his cologne. “Nah, he’s pretty much over me.” Mabel inspected the flowers curiously before pulling the card free of the rest of the gift.

“Well who is it?” Dipper asked, tilting his head a bit. Mabel only gave his brother a wide smirk. “Oh I don’t think this is for me Dipper.”

Dipper’s eyebrow perked up higher as Mabel waved the card in his face. There were no words, just a little, blue, pine tree image inside. “Ooh~ looks like someone has a secret admirer!” Dipper scoffed.

“What? That’s just a picture of a tree, that doesn’t prove-”

“Bap!” Mabel stuck the card to Dipper’s hat, right over the original pine tree logo. Dipper sighed in defeat, blushing slightly. “So, someone actually likes me??”

“That’s what an admirer does bro. Falls head over heels for you!” Dipper smiled softly and took back the flowers. “Huh...an admirer...sounds kinda nice…” As Dipper reveled in the fantasy that a beautiful girl was shyly leaving flowers at his doorstep a hiss came from the bouquet.

Dipper looked into the dark cracks between the flowers in the arrangement before a large black snake lunged out of the flowers. Dipper screamed and held the flowers and hissing snake away from his face. Mabel yelped and jumped away as large black spiders swarmed Dipper’s arms. The boy flailed and panicked, crashing into the wall before finally managing to throw the flowers out the door and frantically shake off the spiders.

“What the hell was that?!”

Bill peeked out of the bushes with a disappointed frown, why did he throw it away? That flower arrangement was beautiful! Beast told him humans liked flowers. Then again leaving an arrangement for his human didn’t work out so well either. You know, what does that guy know anyway! Bill huffed and got up, strolling toward the main part of town.

Bill stuffed his hands into the pockets of his shorts as he wandered down the town’s sidewalk. He wasn’t afraid of being caught as the demon monster that traumatised just about everyone last summer, these people were idiots. Everyone on the planet was, even Pine Tree!

“...but he’s...my idiot…” he murmured to himself, a faint blush on his stupid human cheeks. Why did this vessel have to show so much emotion, it sucks!

He brushed past the window of a jewelry store that was closing for the day, almost walking past entirely until a faint sparkle caught his eye, he turned his head back to the window, in the display a beautiful bright blue pin in the shape of a pine tree. The low summer sun caught it perfectly, leaving small blue dots reflecting off around the display. The gold backing shined magnificently and it certainly looked pricey. It was perfect! Pine Tree would love this!

Bill gave the gem a greedy smirk and sauntered off before anyone could notice he’d been standing there. He’d be coming back for that one.

“Piiine Treeeeee” Dipper could hear him whining and tapping on the shield. Dipper huffed and ignored him, somehow the demon knew he was alone and Ford was way down in the basement where his tapping couldn't be heard.

After a few more taps the shield retaliated and made Bill yelp as a shock went through his body. “Oww!” the demon sucked on his stinging finger pitifully and muttered a few latin curse words to himself before raising his voice again. “Pine Tree come out. I just wanna talk kid.”

Dipper spared him a glance out of curiosity. His vessel was dirty and ragged, hair greasy and sticking up in odd ways and an arm was caked in dried blood. It had been several days since he first got this body and clearly Bill hadn't considered bathing during any of them. The vessel had grown extremely thin as well. Either Bill was only finding scarce amount of food or he kept forgetting humans need to eat to live.

Bill pulled a small box out of his shorts pocket and lightly tossed it into the weirdness barrier. It passed through with no resistance and landed in the grass near the gift shop’s entrance. Dipper raised a cautious eyebrow at the box from inside before look back to Bill. He gave an encouraging and eager nod and motioned for Dipper to retrieve the box.

The boy gave him a deadpanned look in return. “If you don’t get out of here I’m getting Ford.” Dipper warned. The demon took this as sign to leave before he got caught by someone who would happily run out and kill him.

Dipper huffed and got up from his spot at the counter, deciding to retreat to a room devoid of windows to keep Bill from pestering him.

As he turned to go sit in the living room curiosity pricked at his brain. What the heck did Bill just toss into the yard? Something to trap him? Something else to rip the dimensional barrier? He should at least give it to Ford in case it’s dangerous. Wow, he is really good at reasoning with himself.

Dipper turned on his heel ignoring Mabel and Soos watching the local news (something about someone smashing the window of a jewelry shop last night) and went back to the screen door near the discarded box, eyeing it suspiciously. He couldn’t see Bill anywhere, hopefully he ran off far enough that he wasn’t spying on Dipper through the bushes. He kept his mind off the thought just enough to grab the box and go back inside.

It was smaller than he thought, just a simple yellow ring box with a slick black ribbon tied around it. What kind of horrifying interdimensional creation did he cram into this thing? Dipper’s fingers trembled slightly as he tried to peek open the box. He strained his eyes to try and see inside it.

“Hey Dipper!” Dipper yelped and closed the box, hiding it behind his back. “Whatcha got there?” Mabel cocked her head and attempted to see the little box.

“Uh...it’s nothing.”

Mabel peeked over his shoulder with a sly grin. “I spy a jewelry box! Is it for a girl? Do you have another crush?!”

“W-what?! No!!” Dipper held the box out to keep if out of her grip as Mabel made a motion to grab it. Mabel hooked her leg around her brother’s ankle and tripped him. Dipper’s hat flew off his head as he hit the floor of the gift shop with a thud. Mabel stepped past the squirming limbs of the boy and grabbed the box with a victorious laugh.

Dipper rolled to his stomach and frantically reached to trip her up but she was too far away by then. “Mabel don’t open it!” Dipper cried out. Mabel teasingly cracked the box open before flinging it open fully. Dipper shielded his face on instinct but all that came was a surprised gasp from his sister.

“Whoa! Where’d you get the cash for this?!”

Dipper looked up curiously, shouldn’t that box be spewing nightmares right now? Mabel picked up something sparkly out of the box with amazement. A thin, gold, pine tree-shaped pin rested in her hand, one side of it completely decorated with bright blue jewels. “It’s just a pin?” Dipper raised an eyebrow.

“Just a pin?! This looks like it costs more than the shack!” Mabel exclaimed.

“Hold on give me that.” Dipped stood up and plucked the pin out of her hands. He spun it between his fingers and looked at it from every angle.

“Well you better tell me who this mystery girl is soon but I’ll leave you alone...for now.” Mabel tossed the box back to him and left the room.

“Huh, doesn't look like any kind of charm or monster. The barrier wouldn't let it pass through if it was so that makes sense.” Dipper muttered to himself. “But then...why give it to me if it wouldn't do anything?”

Dipper traced his finger along the edge of the shape. He was a bit disturbed the day he realized the pine tree symbol on his hat is just two triangles and a stick. Triangles...they’re his gateway into this world, like a window of some kind. That’s what Ford told him. Draw an eye on a triangle and he can see through it, no matter the size or materials it’s made of. Soon enough Dipper could see the gems embedded on the top half of the pine tree forming an oval shape. His eyes traced the shape before they narrowed in disgust at the sparkling pin.

Dipper adjusted it in his hand so the eye was covered by his palm before going up to the roof through the secret ladder in the gift shop. A gust of cold evening wind hit his face as he stepped out into the dim sunlight. He wound up his arm before throwing the pin as far as it could, faintly hearing it hit a tree but not being able to see it anymore. Dipper let out a huff and drop kicked the box off the roof as well. “Good riddance…”

Bill held back a yelp when the sharp point on the tip of the pin hit the skull of his vessel. He huffed in annoyance and glared at the pin, now resting on the grass behind him. He leaned over and flicked it deeper into the forest with a groan. “What went wrong? This is what humans like right? Ugh, I told that branch head this was a stupid idea...” He sighed and tucked his legs close to his chest. Simple didn’t work, expensive didn’t work. What else could he do? He wasn’t about to run to Beast begging for more advice. Alright, time to get serious. Pine Tree wouldn’t be able to resist this one!

The demon looked over his new gift, he’d really outdone himself this time! But it was so delicate, he couldn’t just chuck it past the bubble without it breaking. Getting inside wasn’t an option at this point, even if he could break the barrier Ford would be upstairs with a gun (or twenty) before he could say a word to Dipper. He’d have to… His mouth formed into a wide grin when he heard the front door open.

Mabel ran outside with a joyful woop and a water gun in hand, Dipper following close behind with his own weapon and a bucket of water balloons.

Bill watched them fight off the hot summer sun with their water fight, grabbing the tail of a squirrel that was inching up a tree. It shrieked as Bill forced out what little consciousness it had, his human form going limp for the moment as the squirrel leaped out into the open.

The water fight was getting more intense and Dipper had just shifted outside the protection bubble. The squirrel scurried to him, leaping onto his back and grabbing the water pistol from his arms. “Hey!” Dipper yelled and attempted to chase the squirrel who was carrying his toy into the woods. He winced at the twigs and rocks hitting his bare feet but kept after the animal.

It tripped on the large item it was attempting to carry and slumped to the ground, laying completely still. Was it...dead..? Dipper gave the suddenly still animal a disturbed look before slowly reaching to grab the toy.

The leaves of a bush rustled out of the corner of his eye and he bolted straight up, clutching the water gun tight enough to turn his knuckles white. A hand shot out of the brush and grabbed his arm, yanking him deeper into the woods. Dipper screamed and attempted to struggle before he was pushed up to a tree.

Hanging from it was an elaborate design in the shape of a heart, the middle filled in with small triangles. But…wait are those bones?! Dipper let out a shocked and disgusted yelp, looking closer the bones on the outside had engraved codes on them and the whole thing was yelp together with unidentifiable strings of flesh.

“Like it Pine Tree?” Bill grinned happily, standing behind him. Dipper whipped around, eyes wide and angry. “What the hell Bill?!”

“All those cliche human gifts weren’t working out so I thought I’d give you something a bit more...personal.” Dipper gave him a horrified look.

“Presents? Wait, the bouquet of spiders was you too?!”

“Surprise!” Bill chirped. Dipper glared at him. “Look I don’t know what you’re trying to pull demon but I’m not falling for it. You can’t trick me anymore!”

Bill’s wide grin faltered.

“I’m not going to bother even looking at anything else you throw pass the barrier. I know you’re planning something and I don’t even want to TOUCH whatever that is!”

“Aw don’t be like that Pine Tree. I worked so hard on it.” Dipper glared and shot him in the face with a blast of the water gun. The demon coughed and sputtered as the boy shimmied past the bush and walked away. “If you come near the shack again I’m letting Ford deal with you.”

Bill let his more cheerful expression sink as Dipper left, he pushed his wet bangs out of his face and lightly kicked at the dirt. “Stupid human…”

Well Bill knows jack shit about gifts. It’s not the object itself, it’s who is giving the gift. And if it’s Bill Cipher giving the gift no one is ever going to take it.

Got a question? The ask box is at your mercy!  Follow the blog for more HB101 and other nonsense!

Chapter 4 <===> Chapter 6 (coming soon)

[emospritelet]

Waiting Game - chapter 4

People yelled at me after the last chapter, so here I am trying to fix things :)

Not saying I’m successful, but the point stands

AO3 link

Lacey got some raised eyebrows on the street outside, but she didn’t much care, taking the bus to the university campus and hurrying home to shower and change.  The race to get to class on time was a pleasant distraction from the thoughts that kept slipping into her mind and digging their gleeful claws into her self-esteem.

Fuck him, she thought sourly, as she slid into a chair, the rest of the class taking their seats around her.  Not like there aren’t a dozen like him around here.

The unfortunate thing, as she well knew, was that there was no one like Gold around there.  There was no one that made her heart flutter and her belly clench, whose eyes would gleam with mischief and whose voice alone was a turn-on.  There was no one who could make her come with a few sweeps of his fingers, whose tongue should have been made illegal, who smelled like wood and spice and musk and whose hair would brush her cheeks while he fucked her.

“Miss French?”

Lacey started, blushing.  Her professor, Dr Heller, was waiting patiently, and she racked her brains trying to think of what he had asked her while she had been lost in her memories.

“Sorry?” she said apologetically, and he sighed.

“Your paper,” he repeated, and Lacey pulled a face.

“Oh.  Right.  Sorry, I had a bad night last night.  Can I get it to you after lunch?”

Dr Heller rolled his eyes, looking pained.

“Very well,” he said levelly.  “You can get it to me by the end of the day, but I expect nothing but the best, understand?”

She nodded, grateful both for the second chance and for the distraction that the work would give her.  If nothing else, Gold turning out to be an utter prick would probably be good for her grades.  Study was just what she needed to get the bastard out of her head.

Unfortunately, while study proved to be an excellent distraction when Lacey was up and dressed, every time she lay down to sleep she found herself running over the entire encounter in her head and wondering why she hadn’t picked up on his apparent disdain for her.  She was usually adept at spotting arseholes; admittedly it never stopped her sleeping with them, but she could tell what they were and that they weren’t worth anything more than a one-nighter.  Gold hadn’t been like that.  He’d acted as though he actually liked her, trashy little dress and all.  It was making her doubt her ability to read people.

Lacey sat at the bar of the Rabbit Hole, staring into the glass of whisky she had been nursing.  She had managed to get through the past ten days by trying her best not to think about Gold, and by avoiding Neal and Emma.  It had meant pretending to be out when they had knocked on her door on Friday night, but she wasn’t in the mood to socialise, and she certainly wasn’t in the mood to discuss what had happened with Neal’s dad.  It was now Saturday, and she had come to the bar with the intention of getting well and truly hammered, but her stomach was acidic, no doubt from the stress, and when the whisky had been set in front of her, she decided that she would stick with one.

“Rough day?”

Keith Nott, the bartender, sent her what he no doubt thought was a disarming smile, and Lacey curled her lip.  He was good-looking, and she’d slept with him once, when she’d been a little drunk and he’d been partly responsible for her inebriation.  It had been unremarkable.  Every guy was fucking unremarkable, if she was honest.  Every guy but Gold, anyway.  Fucking bastard with his stupid sexual prowess and his magic fingers!

“Yeah, it’s been pretty crappy,” she said, shoving the thoughts from her head, and took a sip of her whisky.

“Trouble with a guy?”

“No,” she lied.

“A girl, then?  You know, if you want to tell me about your love life, I’m all ears.”

He was grinning at her, and she rolled her eyes.

“Piss off, Keith.”

“Oh, don’t be like that, Lace,” he wheedled.  “Look, you want another?  On the house.”

“I still have this one, asshole,” she pointed out.  “And I’m going home when I’m done.”

“Wait until I get off and I’ll walk you,” he suggested, and she pulled a face.

“No thanks.  Been there, done that.”

“Come on!”  He looked put-upon.  “It was a good time, right?”

“For you, maybe.”  She took another sip of her drink.  “I kind of levelled up on my standards for one-night stands recently.  Call me when you can make me come three ways without taking off your pants.  Otherwise you can fuck off.”

Keith scowled.  “Don’t be a bitch, I was only being friendly.”

“Uh-huh.”  She tried to ignore him, but it was difficult when he was standing there glowering at her.

“Hey, what’s up?”  Emma slid onto a stool beside her, and Lacey was grateful for the distraction.  Emma jerked her head at Keith.  “He bothering you again?”

“I offered her a drink on the house,” said Keith, with a sulky expression.  “She fucking bit my head off.  How about I get you one instead?”

“Really not looking for a side of sleaze with my drink,” remarked Emma.  “I’ll take a beer, but I’m paying.”

He curled his lip, then gave her a sly grin.  “I.D?”

Emma leaned on the bar with an expression of disbelief.

“Come on, man!  I’ve been coming here for months!” she objected.

“I.D.” he repeated.

“Forget it,” said Lacey, pushing away her drink.  “Wanna go get a coffee, or something?  This place reeks of testosterone and desperation.”

“Sure.”

Emma jumped off the stool with a toss of her blonde hair, and she and Lacey made their way outside, ignoring Keith’s shouted insult about them both being sluts.  Lacey folded her arms as they walked, wishing she’d brought a jacket.  The night air was cold.

“Haven’t seen you in a while,” said Emma, her tone careful.  “You okay?”

“Great!”

Her voice sounded overly bright, and she winced.  Emma gave her a sidelong look.

“Been studying pretty hard,” Lacey confessed.  “Trying to get my GPA up this year.  I’ve been screwing around for too long.”

“Yeah, college is pretty full-on at the moment,” agreed Emma.  “I have to hit the books pretty hard if I want to get some decent grades this year.”

“Same,” grumbled Lacey.  “God, I can’t wait until after finals!  I’m gonna get so drunk I fall over and sleep through summer.”

Emma snickered.

“Miss the summer?  No thanks.”

“Maybe just a long weekend then,” Lacey amended.  “Not like I have plans to go anywhere.  I might just take some summer classes.”

Emma winced.  “Seriously?”

“It’s either that or I spend like ten weeks watching my father drink too much and yell at Fox News,” said Lacey dryly.  “Really looking forward to that, let me tell you.”

Emma chuckled.

“Did I tell you Neal’s taking me home with him for a couple of weeks in the summer?” she asked.

“Home?” asked Lacey.  “Like - to Maine?”

“Yeah, the place is called Storybrooke.”  Emma kicked at a loose stone on the path, sending it bouncing.  “He says it’s pretty dull, but I guess it’ll be nice to see where he came from, you know?”

“Storybrooke, huh?”  Lacey pursed her lips.  “Cute name.  You’ll probably have a better summer than me.”

Emma nudged her playfully.

“Want me to tell Neal’s dad you said hi?” she asked, grinning, and Lacey pulled a face.

“Yeah, somehow I don’t think he’d be interested,” she said dryly, and Emma looked puzzled.

“I thought you two seemed to get on pretty well,” she said.  “What gives?”

“Nothing,” Lacey sighed.  “But you know how I am.  Bang ‘em and move on, right?  Guys are all the same.”

“I heard you two,” Emma reminded her.  “Sounded kind of different from where Neal and I were, believe me.”

“Yeah, well, it’s not like it was ever gonna be anything serious,” said Lacey, feeling uncomfortable.  “For me or for him.”

“How did you guys leave things?” asked Emma tentatively, and Lacey turned to walk backwards, scrunching her nose.

“Can we not talk about this?” she asked.  “Honestly, I’m trying to forget the whole thing ever happened.”

“Oh.  Sure, no problem.”

Lacey nodded, falling back into step again, and there was silence as they reached the coffee shop.

“Think I’m getting a large one,” she said then.  “That Psych paper won’t write itself, the bastard.”

Emma chuckled, pushing open the door, and they stepped inside the warm, fragrant space, shutting out the cold night air.

Gold hadn’t taken Lacey’s number, and hadn’t felt comfortable asking Neal to get it for him, and so he spent every spare moment of the three weeks since their night together thinking about her and then telling himself to get a grip.  He had no idea why she had run out on him first thing after they had shared a thoroughly enjoyable night, but her having alluded to their relative ages gave him some clue.  Still, he couldn’t stop thinking about their time together, and he would have liked to see her again, so he resolved to visit Neal the next time he was passing through.  Perhaps she had changed her mind.  Perhaps she thought about him, too.

It was a mild evening when he pulled the car into the university parking lot and made the long trek to the dorm buildings.  He stopped at the bottom of the flight of stairs up to the floor on which Neal’s apartment was housed, and sighed heavily.  The elevator was still out, then.  Telling himself it was good for his legs, he made his way awkwardly upwards, and rapped on Neal’s apartment door.  He couldn’t help casting a glance at Lacey’s door, but there was silence from within.

“Hey!”  Neal opened the door, pulling him into a hug.  “What are you doing here?”

“Oh, I have business in New York,” said Gold, looking him over and smiling.  “I thought I’d stop by on my way, buy you dinner, if you like.”

“Cool.  Emma was coming over, if that’s okay.”

“Of course.”  Gold looked around.  “Um - should I ask Lacey, do you think?”

“You need my permission?” asked Neal wryly.  “How old are you, Pops?  Just go knock on her door, and don’t be such a wuss.”

Gold gave him a level look, but accepted that he had a point.  He stepped out into the corridor for a moment, raising a hand, and hesitated only briefly before rapping on the door with his knuckles.  There was silence.  He knocked again, trying to ignore the heavy feeling of disappointment.

“Guess she’s out,” said Neal.  “She’s been kind of hitting the books lately.  Not even been going out that much.”

“Oh.”  Gold’s fingers drummed on the handle of his cane.  “Has she - talked about me at all?”

“Dad…”  Neal covered his face with his hands, and Gold sighed.

“Forget it.  Look, would you tell her I stopped by?  If she wanted to call…”

His voice trailed off, and Neal groaned, peeking from between his fingers.

“Fine, I’ll give her your number.  You want me to pass her a note in class or something?”

Gold frowned at him.  “Hilarious.”

Neal gestured to his dorm room.

“Look, would you just get your ass in here and stop making an idiot of yourself?” he demanded.  “She’s not there.  You want a drink of something?”

Gold sighed inwardly, cursing himself for a besotted fool.  She had made her feelings quite clear, it seemed.  He turned on his heel, following Neal back inside, and shut the door behind him.

In the room next door, Lacey closed the book she held with hands that shook a little, glaring at the door.  So, he thought he could just turn up and bang the ‘piece of trash’ whenever he was in town, did he?  Well, he could go fuck himself!  She was busy, anyhow.  She opened her book again, knowing that she would be thinking of him when she closed her eyes that night, and furious with herself over it.

It was another three weeks before she realised that she had no choice: she would have to see him again.

She remembered that Neal’s hometown was called Storybrooke, and as luck would have it she could get a bus there, so she ended up skipping class on a Friday and studying for Monday’s Sociology class on the bus, the sunshine warm on her skin.  She was nervous, her belly so tight with anxiety she felt nauseous, and so she tried to distract herself by reading her textbook and making notes.

It was just after two by the time she reached the town, and she looked out of the window with interest at the quaint little houses, perfect with their rose gardens and picket fences.  It was hard to imagine Neal growing up here, and harder still to imagine Gold living here.  Of course, she herself was so used to cities that she thought she’d go mad if she had to spend too long in a place that didn’t appear to have a cinema or any fast food restaurants.  There was a diner, and a number of small stores, but little else.

The bus pulled to a stop, and she gathered her things, shoving the bulky textbook in her bag and stepping off, sunglasses shielding her eyes from the glare as she looked around.  She had searched for Gold’s business online, noting that he was a landlord as well as an attorney, and it was a matter of minutes before she found his office, tucked onto the main street next an artisan bakery.  She hesitated outside, her hand on the door handle, but then squared her jaw and pushed down, opening the door and walking inside.

There was a reception desk and comfortable-looking leather chairs beside a small table.  A handwritten note tented on the desk said Back in 15 minutes! followed by a smiley face.  Lacey highly doubted that Gold ever wrote smiley faces on anything other than eviction notices, and therefore assumed that he had a receptionist.

She drummed her fingers on the desk, looking around.  A door was off to the left, and so she lifted her chin, stomping around the desk and pushing it open.  A well-lit corridor housed three other doors, and she eyed the one at the end, frosted glass hiding what was within.  She could almost feel his presence flowing out of it to wrap around her, and she clenched and unclenched her hands, chewing her lip, her nerves rising.

Fuck it, she thought, and took a deep breath, striding down the corridor and pushing open the door without knocking.

Gold looked up from behind a large desk of polished walnut, an expression of surprise on his face, and her belly clenched.  He had cut his hair.  It was short: silvery strands just brushing the tips of his ears and the nape of his neck.  It made his face look a little fuller, his skin a little warmer above the midnight blue silk shirt, and she licked her lips.  Why did he have to look so fucking good!

“Lacey,” he said, and a genuine smile spread across his face, his gold tooth glinting.  He pushed himself to his feet, long fingers tightening on the handle of his cane.

“Hey,” she said, the word seeming to stick in her throat.

He was looking her over hungrily, and it made her want to go to him, to kiss him.  To have him take her over that big-ass desk of his.  She wondered if he was thinking it too, and shoved the thought away.

“You - er - you cut your hair,” she said, and could have kicked herself.  Why the hell did it matter?

“Yes,” he said, and glanced away for a moment.  “What - what are you doing here?”

“I took the bus,” she said.  “Emma told me where you lived, and I don’t have class, so I thought - I thought it was probably a good opportunity to - well…”

She cut off, unsure how to continue, and he waited patiently for a long moment, but her throat had closed up.  Gold rounded the edge of his desk, taking a step towards her before folding his hands over the handle of his cane.

“I thought you didn’t want to see me,” he said, his voice soft.  “I left you a message, the last time I was in Boston, but you never called back.  You were out, I understand.”

Lacey raised her chin.

“No, I was in,” she said.  “I got the message.  And no, I didn’t want to see you.”

His jaw worked a little.

“I see,” he said quietly.  “So what’s changed?”

She opened and closed her mouth a couple of times, her heart racing.

“Nothing,” she muttered, turning away.  “Nothing.  This was a mistake.”

She took a step towards the door, wanting to cry, and furious with herself because of it.

“Lacey.”

His voice made her pause, and she heard him move, the tread of his shoes and the tap of his cane, and then the warmth of his hand on her arm.

“What is it?” he pressed.  “I don’t believe you rode the bus for four hours just to walk out on me again.”

His words riled her.  She walk out?  She spun to face him, glaring.

“Walk out on you again?” she snapped.  “What, you mean after the one night we spent together?  After you called me a piece of trash?”

“I - what?”  He looked astounded.  “I never said that!  I never would say that, that’s not what I think!”

“Oh, please!”  She curled her lip at him.  “I heard you!  Calling me your fucking midlife crisis or something…”

“I - I never said that!” he protested.

“...well, fuck you, you arsehole!” she stormed.  “I may not be everyone’s idea of a model fucking citizen, but I’m bloody well trying to make a future for myself and then you come along and fucking screw it up!”

Gold stood with his mouth slightly open as she ranted, looking ever more confused.

“Me?” he demanded.  “What the hell did I do?”

“I’m pregnant, you dickhead!” she shouted.