#the Point is. hey. put mustard on your sandwich. and then heat it up in the microwave. for like 30 seconds. thankyou ✌️

[r1ngfinger]

entering my old man era. btw

[jobean12-blog]

Don’t Get Caught!

Pairing: Bucky x reader

Word Count: 1,348

Summary: Stealing Bucky’s henley’s and leaving him surprises in his room is all fun and games until you get caught...

Author’s Note: This is for the HBC’s @the-ss-horniest-book-club continuation of drunk drabbles and the awesome prompt below sent in by the lovely @prunes-said-bucky Thank you darling and hope you enjoy this! Thank you all for reading, love you always! ❤❤❤

Warnings: Fluffy fun, light teasing, mention of sex toys, implied sexy times

As you pad down the hallway toward the laundry room you let out a loud huff, grumbling under your breath about hating laundry day. You open the dryer so you can put in your wet clothes only to find it full of clean laundry. “Oh, come on!” you shout, grabbing at the clothes to try and figure out who they belong to.

Sifting through lots of soft tee shirts you’re thinking it could be Steve’s until your eye catches the dark blue of a Henley. With a smirk you pull it out, bringing the soft fabric to your nose, whispering, “Bucky.” You decide you should at least fold his clothes if you’re gonna steal his Henley, so you make a neat pile of the tee shirts and throw the Henley over your shoulder.

You put your wet clothes in the dryer and turn it on before sneaking back to your room. An hour later Bucky comes down to the laundry room and smiles at the pile of his neatly folded clothes. Shrugging he takes the clothes and heads back to his room, stopping in the kitchen for a snack. You round the corner and see him bending over to look in the fridge. You gasp and turn to run, hoping he didn’t hear you.

Not five minutes later there is a knock on your door, Bucky’s sweet voice asking, “hey y/n, are you in there?” Realizing you’re wearing his Henley you quickly look around for something to throw on, the only thing close by your blanket from the couch. Wrapping yourself up you say, “I��m here, come on in!”

He opens the door with a smile, “hi doll! I thought I saw you run away from the kitchen a few minutes ago and I wanted to make sure you were ok?” Securing the blanket, you smile and say, “all good, thanks, just realized I had forgotten something.” Nodding, he turns to leave but when he makes it to the door he turns and asks, “isn’t it a little warm to be wearing a blanket?”

Your eyes widen and your mind races as you try to think of some excuse. “I uh, well, I wasn’t properly dressed when you knocked so I just threw this on!” you say with a wink. Bucky clears his throat, licking his lips before he says a quick goodbye and shuts the door a little too hard.

Giggling to yourself your drop the blanket and head to your bedroom. You catch sight of your vibrator sitting on the bed, realizing you had left it out last night. Your mind wanders to thoughts of what Bucky would have done had he seen it. A devious plan forms in your head as you open your goodie drawer, going through the contents and pulling a few things out.

The next day Bucky and Steve leave for a short two-day mission, Bucky’s Henley still tucked away in your room. Once you know they are gone you grab your handcuffs and favorite vibrator. Tip toeing down the hallway you stop in front of Bucky’s door, reaching out to grab the knob. “Hey y/n! Are you looking for Bucky? He and Steve left about an hour ago for that mission upstate.” Sam’s loud voice startles you to the point of almost dropping your toys and you spin around, holding your hands behind your back.

“Oh, hey Sam! Um, he did? I wasn’t sure if he had left already, but thanks! It can wait,” you say with a smile. Sam nods, “no problem, y/n.” You both stare at each other, Sam waiting for you to leave and you waiting for him to leave. “Ok, I’ll catch ya later,” you finally say, backing away down the hall while facing him.

He raises a suspicious brow but waves, “see ya y/n.” You rush back to your room, cursing under your breath. You decide to make a sandwich before trying again, your heart still racing as you spread the mustard over a slice of bread. With a deep breath you take a bite, chewing as you think over your plan.

After eating and cleaning up you head back out, checking the hallway again. It looks clear so you head to Bucky’s door, quickly opening it and slipping inside. You lean against it and catch your breath, trying to calm your heart. You walk to Bucky’s bedroom, hanging the cuffs on his headboard and placing the vibrator on his nightstand.

Just as you’re about to leave the room you spot his red Henley hanging on the closet handle. You rush over and pick it up, once again smelling it. This time, it smells like him instead of clean laundry and you hold it to your chest. “One more won’t hurt,” you whisper to yourself before sneaking back to your room.

Bucky and Steve return home safely, both exhausted but hungry. “I’m gonna shower then make myself a giant sandwich before sleeping for two days,” Bucky informs Steve with a laugh. Bucky takes a nice hot shower, emerging from the bathroom and searching for his Henley. “Hmmm, I could have sworn I left it hanging right here.” He throws on a white tee shirt instead, towel drying his hair and heading to the kitchen.

He grabs all the ingredients for his sandwich and heads back to his room, stacking them up before realizing he has no mustard. He shuffles back to the kitchen to get the mustard but there isn’t any. Disgruntled he takes the mayo and goes back to his room. Just before he puts it on the bread, he remembers you love mustard, grabbing his phone to shoot you a quick text.

You smile and reply, ‘sure, Buck. I have plenty, I can bring it over in 2 minutes.’ You open the small fridge in your room and grab the mustard, opening your door and heading down the hall. You knock and wait. No answer. “Bucky? I’m here, I have the mustard.” Still nothing. You slowly open the door and peek inside to find no sign of him in the living room or small kitchenette.

Walking all the way in you go to the counter and place the mustard down next to his sandwich. “You know,” his voice is low and deep, “you could have just said something.” You spin around, your hand clutching your shirt. His shirt. “What?” you say, breathlessly. Bucky holds up your vibrator in one hand, the cuffs in the other.

He takes a few steps toward you. “Doll, are you wearing my Henley?” Pulling your eyes from his face you look down, realizing you have his red Henley on. “Oh. Um. Well yea, I was cold, so I borrowed it.” You try to speak with a steady voice but find it hard, Bucky’s dark eyes devouring you. “And what about these?” he asks, bringing the vibrator and cuffs up to your eye line.

“Well, it was just a joke. I thought it would be funny if you found them in your room.” He inches closer, your lips parted with heavy breaths as you try to keep your cool. Your eyes narrow as you ask him, “how did you know they’re mine?” He doesn’t answer, instead placing his arms on either side of the counter to cage you in.

“I want my shirt back. And the blue one” You can feel the heat radiating off him, his scent surrounding you as you try to think. “Well, I’ll wash them both then get them back to you.” Running his thumb along your jaw he whispers, “nah, I want this one now.” With the simple brush of his lips your mouth opens for him, the kiss quickly becoming heated as his hand wanders under his shirt.

You pull away, breathing heavily. “Take it then.” With a wicked grin he starts to lift the hem, carefully pulling it up and over your head. His eyes rake over your body, now bare except for your underwear and bra. “Much better. Now what do you say we take this inside and try out these toys.”

@aesthetical-bucky @auro-ora @azurika-writes @bugsbucky @buckys-broody-muffin @book-dragon-13 @devynsdiary @eurynome827 @hiddles-rose @hailmary-yramliah @hawksmagnolia @itsunclebucky @ikaris-whore @jhangelface0523 @jewels2876 @loricameback @littledarlinhavefaithinme @littleredstarfish @mushyjellybeans @marvelgirl7 @marvelandotherfandomimagines @metal-armed-cuddly-dork @nano--raptor @randomfandompenguin @sallycanwait68 @softpeachbarnes  @the-wayward-robot​ @scarletsoldierrr​ @when-the-hell-is-bucky​

[outerbankswriting]

Spider Bites (JJ x Reader)

Description: The reader and JJ are secretly dating, until one day their love for each other leaves a few marks that don’t go unnoticed by their friends.

Request: You’re my new favorite writer across all the fandoms I’m in, and Could it be? AMAZING! I would like to request something for whenever you have time? I was just thinking something along the lines of you and jj secretly dating but the other pogues have suspicion and one day they suggest to go swimming and you forget that the night before jj covered you with hickeys so you strip into your swimsuit and everyone sees and just stares and jokingly makes fun of you and jj

Spider Bites

It was almost midnight and your boyfriend was still laying next to you. You were running your fingers through his soft, blonde hair as his eyelashes fluttered. He was falling asleep and you couldn’t blame him for it. Not even an hour ago the two of you were proving to one another how bad you had craved each other the whole day.

You and JJ were secretly dating, which just increased the sexual tension that always built around the two of you while you were hanging with the rest of your friends, which never failed to make you and JJ crash to your house or the van for either a quickie or long hours of passionate sex while the night was ending.

You had both decided to keep your relationship a secret from your friends to save yourselves from their endless questions and teasing and also because the adrenaline of having to sneak out to see each other always ended up with good sex and you loved to have him all for yourself, no pressure and no questions from anyone, just the two of you.

“Hey baby,” you softly whispered to his ear, “wake up.”

He groaned as you slightly nudged his arm.

As much as you wanted him to stay the night, you’d agreed on having Kie come over first thing in the morning to make some quick sandwiches for the day since all of you were going to spend your whole day at the beach, and you were not planning on having her find out about you and JJ’s relationship this way.

“Come on, we’ll spend the whole day together tomorrow again,” you said as you slightly traced your fingers all over his chest, “and you know Kie is coming in the morning.”

“You’re more comfortable than my bed,” he mumbled and snuggled closer to you, “and warmer and you also smell nicer.”

You smiled at your sleepy boyfriend before letting go of his grip and heading out of bed to put your pyjamas on, JJ’s eyes never leaving your body.

“I can’t believe how hot you look even with your unicorn pyjamas.” He smiled at the sight of your purple and blue unicorn pyjamas.

“Shut up.” You threw a pillow at him and he pulled you from your waist to his body and attacked your side with tickles as you tried your best to not scream, “JJ stop! My mom’s going to wake up!”

His fingers left your sides as soon as you threatened him with your mother. You cupped his face and placed a soft kiss on his lips before handing him his shirt.

“As much as I love the sight of you without a shirt on,” you smirked, “it’s time to go.”

“Alright, alright,” he groaned as he got out of your bed, “but promise me tomorrow we’ll sleep at the van.”

“I pinky promise.” You pointed your pinky finger at him as he smiled at your actions and locked his pinky finger with yours.

“Night baby.” He leaned in to give you a small peck on the lips before sneaking out of your room through your window, which was now his own personal front door for your house.

The next morning you were awaken by a loud knock on your door which made you get out of bed in a heartbeat.

“What is it?” You could barely open your eyes and thought your mother was the one knocking.

“I don’t know why you have a phone if you never bother to answer.” The fruity scent of your best friend’s shampoo filled your room.

“I’m sorry Kie.” You mumbled and made your way to your bathroom to wash your face and brush your teeth while your friend picked out your swimsuit.

“I brought all the ingredients to make the sandwiches, it shouldn’t take us long.” She handed you your bikini and you put it on without even bothering to look in the mirror for you were barely awake and being hurried by your friend.

You grabbed a red tank top as well as some shorts and put them on top of your swimsuit.

After you and Kiara were done making sandwiches, the two of you headed to the beach. The guys were already drinking beer and sitting around as they waited for you and Kie to arrive. Your eyes immediately landed on JJ’s toned torso, as memories of his body on top of yours last night invaded your thoughts.

“Why are you guys drinking so early in the morning? You do know it’s terrible for your bodies right?” Kie spoke as she placed the bag full of sandwiches in front of everyone.

“We got thirsty.” JJ said as he winked at you and rushed to grab a sandwich.

“Please tell me they have honey mustard,” Pope pleaded while unpacking a sandwich, “I love honey mustard.”

“They do.” John B chewed on his already half eaten sandwich and Pope smiled before taking a big bite of his.

You and Kie stared at the hungry men devouring the sandwiches and shared glances with each other.

“Please do leave some for us.” You laughed as you watched John B reach for his second sandwich already.

A few minutes went by and all of your stomachs were filled with food and water (well mostly beer for the boys) and you were all sitting down by the beach talking about your plans for the night and telling random stories.

“Should we go swimming?” John B proposed.

“I think we should surf instead bro.” JJ added.

“Do you see any waves? Because I sure don’t.” Pope pointed at the calm, waveless sea.

“I wouldn’t mind getting a bit wet,” You said innocently before realising how bad it sounded to your dirty minded friends, “oh you’re all a bunch of pervs.”

“I mean you could’ve worded it differently.” Pope raised his hands as if he were a victim.

“She still made a point saying you’re all a bunch of pervs though.” Kie added.

“Well are we going to go swimming or what?” John B said as he took off his shirt.

JJ and Pope did the same as John B, while Kie took off her swimsuit cover up. You put your hair into a quick ponytail to not let it become a mess with the water and then took off your tank top and shorts.

“Wow.” Pope widened his eyes at you and you stared at him in confusion after also noticing Kie’s eyes widening.

“Well, well, well,” John B grinned at you, “someone had fun last night.”

You furrowed your brows at him and saw JJ scratch the back of his neck as he tried to hide the light shade of pink his cheeks were getting.

You looked down at your body and immediately felt your cheeks heat up.

Red and purple marks were covering your abdomen as well as part of your cleavage, and all you wanted to do was run away from everyone. You were completely unaware as to when exactly last night JJ had left such big hickeys all over your body.

Sure you were used to having JJ mark your body with his mouth whenever he had the chance since he absolutely adored the sight of your body filled with his own touch, but you always made sure to either cover them up or remind him to place them somewhere not visible.

“Won’t you look at that?!” You nervously laughed at yourself, “A spider must have bit me last night.”

“That spider must have been desperate for it then.” Pope said and Kie tried her best to not let out a laugh.

“I guess spiders are invading The Cut now because” John B raised an eyebrow at JJ, “our friend here is also covered with spider bites.”

You stared at JJ’s neck which had two small yet still noticeable hickeys and cursed yourself for it.

“She’s right though, spiders are going crazy here,” JJ defended himself, “it must be the weather or something.”

“Is there another animal invasion that explains the scratches on your back then?” Kie questioned as she pointed at JJ’s back which was indeed covered with scratches.

John B laughed out loud and high-fived Kie while you and JJ shared glances trying to see what to do even though you both knew it was too late already.

“Do you guys really think we hadn’t noticed it before?” Kie giggled.

“Noticed what?” You pretended to be oblivious.

“How the two of you are always leaving early and then sharing looks the next day,” Pope answered your question.

“And how our dear friend JJ always has scratches on his back,” John B added.

“And how you always have smeared makeup on your body which I guess you put on to cover the spider bites.” Kie smiled at you.

“Let’s not forget how it’s been what?” John B looked at the others, “More than a month since JJ has stopped telling us about his one night stands with tourists?”

You couldn’t help but let out the smile forming on your face.

You and JJ had started dating a little less than a month ago and the fact that you were the only girl in his life made your heart want to burst open with happiness. You had been friends with JJ for years already and were very familiar with his reputation of sleeping around with girls and the fact that he had stopped doing that even before the two of you started dating, just proved how much he really wanted only you.

“Alright, alright,” JJ snapped out, “you got us, are y’all happy now?”

He walked over to your side and wrapped an arm around your shoulders, Kie giving the two of you the biggest smile ever while John B and Pope high-fived each other.

“So what?” John B raised an eyebrow at the two of you, “Have you two been macking each other behind our backs?”

JJ turned to face you and you gave him a small smile which made him smile back at you.

Even though you were surrounded by your friends, that little moment felt like it was only the two of you standing there and agreeing it was time to let the world know.

You loved each other, and no matter how hard you tried to hide it from the rest of the world, there was so much you the two of you wanted to do without the fear of being discovered by your friends that you knew it was time to let the truth out and enjoy your relationship freely.

“We’re not only macking bro,” JJ smiled at his friend before turning to face you again, a look of pride and happiness all over his face, “she’s my girl.”

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

A/N: I think this is my favorite request so far... I loved writing this so much! hope you enjoyed it. 

[kookie-doughs]

Y/N L/N AND THE HALFBLOODS

Percy Jackson X Reader -Y/N L/N met Percy Jackson and everything was now ruined.

CHAPTER 1: THE BEGGINING OF IT ALL

It was quite dark in my room. Unclear of what's happening... Of what's going on... But one thing is clear to me... Someone is calling me from somewhere. Tossing and turning doesn't help the anxiety building up at the pit of my stomach. Come to me I'm scared... Dont be scared. I would never hurt you Who are you? Fall... With me... I don't want to hear you anymore... We'll rule as one.... This is just a dream... Denying won't keep me... This is not real... We are one... I'm hearing things...

Tears pricked my eyes and I shot up trembling. As I thought all of those were just a dream. With what little time have I caught my breath. My alarm stared ringing 6 minutes after I woke up. D/N, my dog, nudged my hand and looked at me with his worried eyes. "I'm good boy... I'll be good. Today's the class trip... I have to be good." I ran down stairs to see my mom cooking breakfast. "Hey there sweetie. You excited for the trip~?" She sang. I reluctantly nodded. "Yeah..." As mom set D/N's bowl she turned to me with a worried look. "You sure? Your enthusiasm sure tells me how excited you are." "Will D/N be coming with me?" On cue my dad already in his suit came down and gave my head a kiss. "Of course sweetie. He's a support animal, they have no choice." He smiled. Taking a pancake from the plate, he didn't bother adding butter nor syrup and bit it like bread. "Anyways, I gotta go. Have fun at your trip. And I'll see you after work." He gave me and my mom a kiss then left. "Start eating. We have to make sure you don't miss your bus." ~ The bus was noisy. Everyone is screaming and laughing loudly. I sat at the very front with Mrs. Rudolph. She's my history teacher and our class adviser. She looks like a grumpy old witch lady who eats children, but her personality is far from that. Which seems to be not enough for my classmates as they're very bratty in her class. D/N was currently laid on Mrs Rudolph's lap as she gently pet him. "Are we close yet Mrs Rudolph?" I asked. She gave me a smile, "yes quite close. In fact, it reminds me to remind you kids something." Picking up D/N from her lap she gently placed him on mine and stood up. "Attention!!" She yelled immediately changing from her soft demeanor. They kids instantly settled down and kept quiet. "Good, now... Is everyone aware of where we'll be going?" "Yes Mrs Rudolph..." We all reply. "And where are we going?" No one answered. I could sense she was about to get mad so I answered on my own. "Metropolitan museum of art..." "Good job Y/N!" She smiled at me and glared at the others. "We'll, I'd like to remind you lot that we won't be touring alone. Another school will be joining us, Yancy Academy! Now I wouldn't be the one supervising the tour, it'll be Yancy Academy's Latin teacher, so we need to show them we are capable and proper. I'm putting Y/N L/N in charge of the group. Listen to what she says and do participate when asked." Whispers started coming once again. I've always been Mrs Rudolph's favorite. It's not like she has a choice, I'm the only proper one among her students after all. "Keep quiet!" In an instant the whispering died. "I will not hear anything from your mouths about Y/N being in charge! She'll have the same power as I! If you have a problem speak louder and say it to me! Understand?!" "Y-Yes Mrs Rudolph..." The bus then stopped moving. "Y/N..." Mrs Rudolph rested an arm on my shoulder. "Lead them." She smiled and went out. I cleared my throat. "E-Everybody file ou-out properly an-and orderly... P-please." Grumbles and mumbles came from them as they did what I said. Once everyone was out I got out. I had D/N in my arms. The first thing I did as I got out was examine everything. From the distance, you could see the students who I assume are from Yancy Academy. A particular group had caught my eyes. A redheaded girl was throwing wads of sandwich that stuck in a guy's curly brown hair, his friend was clearly agitated by what's happening and had balled his fist. "Y/N L/N." Mrs Rudolph called snapping me out from the trance. "H-Here!" "Okay so everyone is here. Remember, Y/N L/N is in charge. Now go mix with the Yancy kids." Mrs Rudolph clapped and almost immediately everyone ran towards the group. She walked up to me and pointed at D/N. "Dogs aren't allowed inside sweetie I'm sorry. We tried telling them." A whimper came from my boy as he scoot closer to my chest. "It'll be fine boy. W-would you... Mind?" "Not at all. I was going to offer after all." She smiled and took D/N from me. "Now run along and make friends. He'll be with you by lunch." I turned to see my classmates only to see them instantly making friends with the strangers. I could never do that. Getting closer I searched curly brown haired guy and his friends. A man had called our attention by clearing his throat, not giving me the chance to find curly guy. It was a middle-aged guy in a motorized wheelchair. He had thinning hair and a scruffy beard and a frayed tweed jacket. "Everybody file." I said which thankfully they followed. "Hello to everyone." He gave us a comforting smile. "I'm Mr. Brunner, Yancy Academy's Latin teacher. I was told Y/N L/N will be in charge of your group?" I stepped up and greeted him. "All right. Well, feel free to mix in with the group. We'll be staying for a while." He gathered us around a thirteen-foot-tall stone column with a big sphinx on the top, and started telling us how it was a grave marker, a stele, for a girl about our age. He told us about the carvings on the sides. I was listening to what he had to say, because it was kind of interesting, but everybody around me was talking, only one kid had been trying to keep them quiet and he keeps getting glares from someone who looks like Mrs Rudolph every time. Mr. Brunner kept talking about Greek funeral art. Finally, a snicker came from behind, and a kind of loud reply of, "Will you shut up?" Came. The whole group laughed. Mr. Brunner stopped his story. The guy who had said shut up was the friend of curly. "Mr. Jackson," Mr. Brunner said, "did you have a comment?" His face was totally red and he said, "No, sir." Mr. Brunner pointed to one of the pictures on the stele. "Perhaps you'll tell us what this picture represents?" I looked at the carving, and back at the guy who looked relived. "That's Kronos eating his kids, right?" "Yes," Mr. Brunner said, obviously not satisfied. "And he did this because ..." "Well... Kronos was the king god, and—" "God?" Mr. Brunner asked. "Oh uh..." He stammered. Obviously his one mistake got rid of all the information he remembered of the image. "Titan," I reminded him a little too loudly. They all had turned on me. "Ms L/N, care to help Mr Jackson?" "I-I, he knows... I don't..." I turned to Mr Jackson who looked at me as if he needed help. When he mouthed please I gulped. "H-He didn't trust his kids, who were the gods. So, um, Kronos ate them..." As if he had a moment of epiphany, Mr Jackson looked at me and Mr Brunner. "Can you continue on Mr Jackson?" "Okay, Kronos's wife hid baby Zeus, and gave Kronos a rock to eat instead. And later, when Zeus grew up, he tricked his dad, Kronos, into barfing up his brothers and sisters—" "Zeus fed Kronos a mixture of mustard and wine, which made him puke his other five children, who were immortal gods, had been living and growing up completely undigested in the Titan's stomach." I interrupted... Oh god was that rude? "Eeew!" said one of the girls behind us. "—and so there was this big fight between the gods and the Titans," he continued, "and the gods won." "The gods defeated their father, sliced him to pieces with his own scythe, and scattered his remains in Tartarus, the darkest part of the Underworld." I continued. Some snickers from the group. Behind us, the red haired girl mumbled to a friend, "Like we're going to use this in real life. Like it's going to say on our job applications, 'Please explain why Kronos ate his kids.'" "And why, Mr. Jackson," Brunner said, "to paraphrase Miss Bobofit's excellent question, does this matter in real life?" "Busted," curly guy muttered. "Shut up," Ms Bobofit hissed, her face even brighter red than her hair. I thought about his question, and shrugged. "I don't know, sir." "I see." Mr. Brunner looked disappointed. "How about you Ms L/N?" I shook my head frantically not sure of what to say. "Well, half credit, Mr. Jackson, Ms L/n, You both did well. On that happy note, it's time for lunch. Mrs. Dodds, Mrs Rudolph, would you lead us back outside?" The class drifted off, the class still mixed with the other. "Want to join us for lunch?" Mr Jackson offered scratching his head. "Uhm..." My face was heating up I never had friends before. I was about to reply when I heard a loud whimper from outside. It was D/N's cry. "I'm sorry." I said and ran towards the sound. They were about to follow when Mr. Brunner called, "Mr. Jackson." Running outside I searched for D/N. "Hey boy, where are you?!" I called. Not long after I found him by the fountain alone. "Oh god, what are you doing here alone? Why were you crying? Weren't you with Mrs Rudolph?" I cradled him in my arms and lied on the grass. Overhead, a huge storm was brewing, with clouds blacker than I'd ever seen over the city. I figured maybe it was global warming or something, because the weather all across New York state had been weird since Christmas. We'd had massive snow storms, flooding, wildfires from lightning strikes. I wouldn't have been surprised if this was a hurricane blowing in. Some of the guys were pelting pigeons with Lunchables crackers. Red hairedgirl was trying to pickpocket something from a lady's purse, and, of course, Mrs. Rudolph was with her look alike. "Hey," someone had looked down on me. "Sorry I ran. I heard D/N cry..." "Percy, Percy Jackson." He smiled. "Huh?" "I'm Grover Underwood." Curly beamed. "O-Oh... I'm Y/N L/N, this is D/N." He barked in response to the introduction. "Really?!" Grover looked at D/N in surprise. "Can I borrow him?! Please??" Me and Percy looked at him weirdly but I handed him D/N anyways. Grover sat on the edge of the fountain, and Percy and I close enough but not an earshot away. "Detention?" I asked. "Huh?" "Did you get left behind for detention?" I asked him. "Nah," he said. "Not from Brunner. I just wish he'd lay off me sometimes. I mean—I'm not a genius. He thinks I know everything about Mythology and stuffs." "I think you are." I smiled at him. "You're pretty smart." "Yeah, well this genius is dyslexic." He smirked. "No way." "Way." "I am too!!" "What?" "Okay we're totally dyslexic twins now." I chuckled. "Totally." Being the awkward kid I am my stomach had to growl. "Want to have my apple?" I felt awkward and took his apple. "Thanks." We watched the stream of cabs going down Fifth Avenue, and had small talks about random stuffs, we ranged our topic from his past schools, to his mom, Nancy Bobofit the mean redhead, and Mrs Dodds his mathematics teacher. Mr. Brunner parked his wheelchair at the base of the handicapped ramp. He ate celery while he read a paperback novel. A red umbrella stuck up from the back of his chair, making it look like a motorized cafe table. Percy was about to unwrap my sandwich when Nancy Bobofit appeared in front of me with her ugly friends—I guess she'd gotten tired of stealing from the tourists—and dumped her half-eaten lunch in Grover's lap where D/N sat. "Oops." She grinned at me with her crooked teeth. Her freckles were orange, as if somebody had spray-painted her face with liquid Cheetos D/N tackled her down, not biting her but barking at her not letting her up. And Percy tried to held his laughter in. Nancy screamed at D/N and tried to hit him. When she had successfully hit him she glared at me then the dog. "This stupid dog!" She then kicked him. When his whimper came out. "Hey?! What do you think you're doing!?" I screamed. "You don't know how to control your stupid dog!" "You dumped your lunch on him he had every right to mount you!" Grover had D/N now cradled in his arms. My teeth were gritting at the sight of this redhead. I was about to lift my hand on her. I don't remember what happened clearly, but I was pretty sure the water grabbed her, Nancy was sitting on her butt in the fountain, screaming, "Percy pushed me!" "No he didn't you liar!!" Mrs. Dodds materialized next to us. Some of the kids were whispering: "Did you see—" "—the water—" "—like it grabbed her—" I didn't care about the whispers. All I knew was that Percy was in trouble again. As soon as Mrs. Dodds was sure poor little Nancy was okay, promising to get her a new shirt at the museum gift shop, etc., etc., Mrs. Dodds turned on Percy. There was a triumphant fire in her eyes, as if he'd done something she'd been waiting for all semester. "Now, honey—" "He didn't do anything! Why are you punishing him?! Weren't you watching what was happening?!" I glared at her. Staring straight in her eyes. I don't know where I got this confidence and everything but I am starting down the teacher Percy is most scared of and winning. "I'd like to apologize for the bad conduct my student had affected yo---" "Nancy Bobofit is in the wrong not Percy! She. Hurt. My. Dog." I could hear the poison laced in my words. Mrs Rudolph came to me, "sweetie, let's go back in the bus. We have to leave." She took D/N from Grover and dragged me away from the scene. "But----" "Ms. L/N, we'll miss the schedule. Let's go." As if D/N knew he jumped off from Mrs Rudolph's hold and ran. "D/N!!" I didn't bother saying anything to Mrs Rudolph and ran after him. "Y/N!!" She tried calling after. I had lost D/N a few times and I found him. He was barking and growling at something. I went to check and saw Percy swing a sword at a shriveled hag with bat wings and claws and a mouth full of yellow fangs... She exploded into yellow powder, vaporized on the spot, leaving nothing but the smell of sulfur and a dying screech and a chill of evil in the air, as if those two glowing red eyes were still watching me. "Percy?" I called. His sword was gone and there was a ballpoint pen in his hand. His hands were still trembling. "W-Was th-that... D-did..." "Percy," I slowly walked up to him and pulled him to a comforting hug. "Calm down. Breathe. I... Also saw that. You're not imagining things alone." We went back outside. D/N leading us. It had started to rain. Grover was sitting by the fountain, a museum map tented over his head. Nancy Bobofit was still standing there, soaked from her swim in the fountain, grumbling to her ugly friends. When she saw me, she said, "I hope Mrs. Kerr whipped your butt." I said, "Who?" "Our teacher. Duh!" We blinked. "We had no teacher named Mrs. Kerr." Percy said. He asked Nancy what she was talking about. She just rolled her eyes and turned away. We went over to Grover to ask where Mrs. Dodds was. He said, "Who?" But he paused first, and he wouldn't look at Percy, so we thought he was messing with us. "Not funny, man," he told him. "This is serious." "I am concerned as well..." Grover looked at me in surprise. "A-about what?" "About... Mrs Dodds? Percy and I saw something really disturbing." Thunder boomed overhead. Percy then let go of me and went over to Mr. Brunner who hasn't moved from his spot. I immediately followed after. He looked up, a little distracted. "Ah, that would be my pen. Please bring your own writing utensil in the future, Mr. Jackson." Percy handed Mr. Brunner his pen. "Sir," he said, "where's Mrs. Dodds?" He stared at him blankly. "Who?" "The other chaperone. Mrs. Dodds. The pre-algebra teacher." I added. He frowned and sat forward, looking mildly concerned. "Percy, Y/N, there is no Mrs. Dodds on this trip. As far as I know, there has never been a Mrs. Dodds at Yancy Academy. Are you feeling all right?" "W-What?" "And Y/N, Mrs Rudolph is very worried about you. You just ran away all of a sudden. Your bus is about to leave." I turned to Percy reluctantly. "I'll walk you..." "This... Can't be a real..." I gasp. "Okay if this is real, then we'll never meet again and we were really just imagining things and this is a coincidence." "Agreed..." "Percy, I know what I saw. I know what I remember. We'll meet again, and when we do... I have a feeling it'll be weirder." "I'll look forward to it."

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Taglist?

[powerpuff-ali]

Ok, so here's my first official drabble I'm posting ever. I'm just tired of rereading it at this point and too nervous to post.

I really just needed some wholesome, slightly domestic greens... Trigger warnings: none

Rating: teen and up? Nothing explicit and very moderate language.

Edit: trying to figure out how to shorten this post.... Also word count is 3,054

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

Buttercup growled to herself as she left the gym. Pounding the pavement as the sun beamed down on her already overheated body. It had been another grueling day at work and she was beyond her limit. Anything that could go wrong, did go wrong. 

First, the ellipticals needed to be regreased, then the dance rooms weren't properly stocked or cleaned, some of the lockers were dented and therefore stuck, and on top of all of that, one of her clients tried lifting the heavier weights despite her suggestion not to. Of course, the man then blew his back out. Truthfully, the list could go on but she was done thinking about work. What she really needed was food, a shower, and a nap. Desperately, in that order. 

Buttercup quickly raced to her boyfriend's apartment. Butch usually hid the good snacks in his room away from his brothers. She attempted to take a discreet sniff of herself while waiting for the light to change. Eh, she's definitely smelled better. Maybe a shower before eating would be best. 

She greeted the doorman with a weak smile as he opened the lobby doors for her. Once in the elevator, she looked down at the key. Butch had forced the key on her in an attempt to be romantic. She chuckled to herself, remembering how flustered he was and just how oblivious she was to what he meant. 

He kissed her hands, biting her left pointer finger, " I love you so much."

She giggled at the gesture, " Yeah, yeah. I love you too." 

He turned on his side, propping himself up slightly, " No, really. I mean it, I do. A lot." He leaned in, kissing her nose softly.

" What? You think I don't mean it?" Buttercup squeezed his jaw affectionately.

" I didn't say that. I'm just saying, y'know, you have the key to my heart," Butch had slipped a metal object into her hand. His eyes fluttered to the hand he was holding before looking up again.

Buttercup locked onto his forest green eyes, unaware of the object, " Alright, something's up. What stupid shit did you do?"

" I put something in your hands. Look," Butch pressed the key into her palm.

" A key? Like an actual key to your heart? That's nice," Buttercup used her entire will not to laugh. She didn't make an attempt to take hold of the key. Did he get this idea from Boomer?

" Ugh, no! I'm just saying since you have the key to my heart, you should finally have the key to the apartment," he pressed the key harder in her palm to get her to grip it. 

" What do I need this for? You're always here anyway so you'll just let me in, " the blank stare in her face was infuriating for him.

" Yeah but it'd be easier if you had your own key. Maybe moved some more of your things here since the gym is close by," he cooed at her.

She cocked her head and met his eyes, " But then I wouldn't have my things at home where I need them."

" Yes but then you'd get to be with me more," his eyes widened at her trying to get her to take the hint.

She watched him, narrowing her eyes, " Do you get high before I got here?"

"Ugh, woman! I can never be romantic with you! I'm asking you to start moving in with me," he covered his face, hiding his exasperation, " God, you make it fucking impossible to be romantic."

Buttercup grinned foolishly to herself. She wasn't too caught up on being romantic and neither was he but when he was, he could usually ease her into it. She stepped into the apartment and made a beeline to his door, "Butch."

Butch briefly turned his face to her before settling back on his screen, " Hey beautiful. No not you, jackass." 

" You playing with Boomer?" She tossed her equipment bag to the side and kicked off her shoes. She stretched, flexing her legs to get that extra stretch.

" More like beating his ass. How was work?" Butch smashed at the buttons on his keyboard furiously, dodging shots from Boomer's character.

Buttercup sighed, " I don't even want to think about it right now." 

" Hold on, Boomer," Butch gave her his full attention. A sigh wasn't good. It was never good, " Everything okay?" 

" Yeah, I just need a shower first, " she pulled a fresh set of clothes and her towel into the bathroom. 

" Alright," he turned back to his game and yelled expletives at his brother for trying to steal his loot. 

The cold water cascading through her hair felt like heaven. Her scalp tingled, rinsing away the heat of her stress. She questioned whether or not she should head back home to the Professor today. No, I open tomorrow so I should just spend the night here. 

Although she was 22, she chose to stay at home to live in her childhood home to have proper space from Butch. They had gone from enemies to lovers in highschool and since they both decided against college, they had seen each other almost every day since then. Ugh, how am I not sick of him? Smiling to herself, she knew she couldn't get enough of him. 

The water shut off and she dried herself. Wrapping her shoulder length ebony hair in the towel, she tossed on his shirt and her briefs. Her stomach growled in protest. Right, I need food. I could really go for a-

A grilled ham and cheddar cheese sandwich, chips and an ice cold cola were plated for her next to Butch's half eaten sandwich, " Babe, I put mustard in yours already. Boomer, shut up. I've heard the shit you call Bubbles." He had actually taken the time to make her food while she showered.

" If he's home too, why didn't you two just sit on the couch and play?" Buttercup's mouth was full, munching away at her food. She loved sitting together with Blossom and Bubbles for game nights. It made gloating about their wins so much more enjoyable.

" And actually spend time with him? I don't think so. Shut up, Bubbles is with you in there too," Butch smashed his mouse down, the plastic cracked under the pressure. 

Buttercup watched as the keyboard clacked under Butch's excitement for a while. She finished off the last of her cola as the exhaustion set in. She lifted herself off of the bed and straddled his lap. Burying her face in his neck, her left hand pulled at his raven hair slightly. She could feel him swallow faintly.

Butch kissed her temple. Muting his mic he pressed his cheek to hers, " Wanna talk about it now?"

" Fred blew out his back and nearly his rectum too while doing squat lifts after I told him he wasn't ready," She breathed out.

Butch bit back a laugh, " This isn't the first time. Why does that old man think he knows better than you? A literal trained professional."

" I don't know. I still don't like seeing my clients get hurt," Buttercup could hear Boomer yelling through Butch's headphones.

" Boomer, stop yelling. I can hear you," he muted his mic again, " Well, you're home now so just relax." 

" That's what I'm doing," Buttercup closed her eyes and breathed in his scent. He smelled like her green apple shampoo. Something that he had once considered too girly to exist in his  bathroom was now his favorite scent. Mostly because it reminded him of her but he claimed it actual smelled edible.

Butch cradled her so she could position herself better on his lap, " I'm logging off now. Yes I am. Because something way more important requires my attention." He tossed his head set to the side and squeezed her hips.

" You didn't have to end the game," she hummed into his neck giving him instant goosebumps.

" I wanted to. I missed you today," His fingers traced down her spine. Butch loved that she wore his shirts. According to him, that's when she looked "the hottest". 

" Hey, how long have we been together for?" Buttercup opened an eye and stared at the bed, the sheets beckoned for her muscles to rest against them.

He hummed for a moment, " If we want to get technical, we've been officially dating since I turned 18 but if you want to count all the other fun shit we used to do, then we got together when we were 15." 

" No way," Buttercup recounted the years in her head, " Weren't we 17?"

" No, we were definitely 15. Remember it was at the homecoming dance? Bubbles dressed you in that god awful neon green puffy dress and black knee high converse sneakers. We ended up slow dancing and I kissed you. Then we were making out regularly, we started fooling around and then during the summer before senior year, we finally started hooking up but then I had to actually ask you out because you were completely clueless that we were already together."

She scoffed," You were always playing games, that's why. Some days you didn't look twice at me and other days you had me cutting class so we could go hang out." 

" Dates. Those were dates. Also, I was trying to play it cool that you would ignore me by ignoring you," He squeezed her tight, kissing her right shoulder blade. 

" You needed to be more direct," her shoulders shook with laughter.

" Woman," he sighed out softly, he knew she was pressing his buttons, " if you're asking me how long I think we've been together, my answer is since we were 15. We've been together for seven, almost eight years." 

" I've seen your stupid face almost everyday for eight years," she sat up to kiss his cheek, " Eight years well spent."

Butch was grateful she had settled down against him because she would've teased him for the blush on his face, " I'm glad you think so. You'd see me a lot more if you lived with me full time." That was what the key was for!

" I already see you everyday," she leaned back to get a good look at him, her eyes heavy and forearms aching. 

" I'm convinced you don't love me by any means," he shook his head, grinning at her.

" So tell me what you want from me and I'll tell you yes or no but first, carry me to the bed. I feel like I'm about to pass out," she pointed to the bed and pouted, something she knew he couldn't resist.

Butch rolled his eyes and tossed her onto the comforter. He turned off the lights and snuggled underneath it with her, " Okay so I want you to move in full time and actually live with me." 

" Live with you and both your brothers while also having to deal with my sisters being here? That's a lot to ask for," she felt his hand wrap around, fingers toying with her stomach lightly. 

" Then maybe you move in and we can save up for our own place. It's not like we don't have money saved up," Butch traced her abs. He loved how strong she was, how passionate she was about pushing herself to do more. She was the reason he stayed motivated. 

" I like that idea better. Okay, I'll move in then. What's next on your list?" Buttercup adored when he traced her abs. She could feel it in the top of her head and trickle down her spine which made it all the more relaxing. When was the last time I got him in the gym?

" Hmm, let's see, we should get married," he felt her core tense up. It was an idea he had flirted with for a while. Originally, he just didn't understand why it was so important. After overhearing Blossom and Bubbles talk about what they would want their weddings to be like, he didn't want to wait any longer with Buttercup. I know I want her forever. Why put it off any longer?

Buttercup's big picture never included marriage. Was it really that big of a deal? What was all the hype about? Was he going to expect her to be a stay at home wife? He knew better, right? " Not if you're expecting me to be like a stay at home wife. I don't mind caring for you but I'm also not going to be waiting on you hand and foot."

"No! Of course not! That isn't who I got with. That's not who you are and that's not what I'm expecting," he kissed her ear gingerly. 

" As long as we're on the same page then yes," she could feel his grip tighten.

" Okay, I want kids too. At least," he squinted his eyes, thinking for a moment, " Five."

She flipped over and glared at him, " I want kids too but I hope you're planning on carrying the other three because the most I'm giving you is two. Are you seriously insane? You want me to have five? Five pregnancies?" 

" Babe, if I could I would. Aren't you tired? You said you would only say yes or no but I'm getting back talk for everything!" His fingers glided down her spine, resting at the small of her back. Those lime green eyes lit something up in him he was never able to explain.

" I am tired but you keep saying ridiculous things," she hooked her leg over his to pull him in closer. 

" Fine, you're right," he closed his eyes. A nap definitely sounded good. Between his programming job and playing online with Boomer, his eyes were sore. 

Except for his humidifier, the room went silent. Soft sounds from the living room thrummed through the walls, " So when are we getting married?" 

Butch's eyes shot open, "Huh?" 

" I was thinking when we were closer to our thirties but," she paused for a moment, " eight years is a pretty long time to be together."

He pulled back to watch her face, " Are you awake or asleep?"

Buttercup opened one eye and met his, " I'm awake. You have me thinking now though. Maybe you have a point and we should get married sooner."

" Don't say it like that though! Do you want to be married to me? Is this what you want?" Butch positioned his arm under him to sit up.

Buttercup toyed with the idea of marriage. She loved him. She wanted no one else but him. Her mind wandered for a moment. Two moments and she smiled, " I want us to get married so you can be my housewife." 

Butch pulled her on top of him, " I want to be your house wife too." 

" I only want to get married under one condition though," Her muscles throbbed each time he moved her.

" Name it."

" We get married in Vegas. I don't want frills and whatever other crap. I want us to do the whole drive through wedding officiated by an Elvis impersonator in a '65 green Ford convertible. We check into a nice hotel, hit up the casinos and have our drunken wedding pictures taken by our siblings and a photo booth," her eyes lit up, speech sped up. She was definitely awake now. 

Truthfully, Butch hadn't pictured her the type to want a classic wedding anyways so knowing she had actually somewhat thought this through was comforting to him, " Bubbles might want to kill you. Hell, your father might want to kill me. Both. Both Bubbles and your old man would kill me if I agreed to this but this does sound so much better than some stupid big wedding."

" Doesn't it sound like fun though?" She nudged him, " Come on, this is, like, our dream wedding! This suits us!"

Damn it, she's right. " How about this, we book a trip to Vegas, all of us, and we get married like you just described without telling them. Then Bubbles can plan you some princessy wedding and we satisfy everyone."

" Ugh, I don't want a princess wedding! I'm not a princess!" She sat fully up now, crossing her arms over her chest like some overgrown child.

" You're my badass princess but I'm scared of your sister so you'll either be a young widow or you suffer in silence for a day to keep me alive," he treasured seeing her so electrified.

Her cheeks burned slightly, " Not a princess and yeah, okay. We'll have two weddings then."

" Fine then you are my queen. So how about we do something even crazier?" Butch pushed against her knee to lift himself up, " Let's get everyone to drive out to Vegas and we get married this weekend?"

Buttercup smiled deviously, " Are you asking me what I think you're asking me?" 

" Buttercup Utonium, I'm asking you to do me the honor of being my amazing partner, beautiful wife and take on the burden of having me as your dashing husband," her hand in his, he matched the spark in her eyes he had fallen for all those years ago.

Oh wow. Her breathing unexpectedly hitched at the flicker in his eyes. Hearing it really was a different experience like Bubbles had tried to explain to her numerous times. She squealed, jumping on him, " Yes! Of course, I will!" Her heart lightened, stomach fluttered. She didn't imagine that him asking would be a big deal but somehow it felt amazing hearing the words. 

Butch wrapped his arms around her tight, " Alright so after our nap, we can make more plans, okay?" 

Buttercup kissed him sweetly, " I love you." 

All the blood in his body rushed to his face, " I love you too." How did I end up so lucky? Maybe that should be the theme. Lucky cards, lucky life.

With that, Buttercup settled her cheek against his chest, listening to his heart surge. There were so many things to think about now, so much to plan. The air was cool and comforting. It cradled them. Marriage! Before their siblings at that! Who'd have thought the greens would have an actually successful relationship?

" I think I still need to mature before we have kids though so maybe we save that for our thirties?" Butch broke the silence, his eyes focusing on their posters.

" It's funny you thought I would have it any other way." 

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

Hope you enjoyed. I'm sorry if it's messy or lacking detail.

[mrgan]

Broccoli Breakfast Sandwich

Hi, good day to you. I have been eating broccoli breakfast sandwiches for breakfast since 2017, and I’m here to spread the good word to you: broccoli breakfast sandwiches are great.

New York sandwich-shop chef Tyler Kord wrote about a broccoli breakfast sandwich in his extremely good A Super Upsetting Cookbook About Sandwiches and I was intrigued, partly because it was one of the simpler recipes in the book. So I made it, and it was delicious. But why was it so delicious that I keep eating it, morning after morning?

Broccoli is wonderful. I can’t convince you of this any more than I can convince you that the color purple is pretty. Broccoli’s qualities become self-evident to you at some point later in life, when your taste buds are bored with sugar and ham and they crave something that reminds them of Mother Earth. Plus, enjoying broccoli gives you permission to eat a sandwich and feel fine about it, because if you went to a dietician and they asked what one food you think you eat the most and you said “broccoli,” they’d just back up and go “hey man, do whatever you want, I’m out.”

In case it hasn’t been made clear, the primary reasons I eat the Broccoli Breakfast Sandwich are:

It’s tasty;

It makes me feel good.

By now, you should be sitting there going, “alright, alright, give me the damn recipe already.” Here it comes!

Broccoli Breakfast Sandwich

Neven Mrgan’s daily version which differs from Tyler Kord’s version in ways I can’t remember right now

1 head of broccoli

1 slice of cheese (cheddar, sharp cheddar, whatever you like)

1 egg (buy the good eggs for frying, live a little)

1 English muffin, split

mayo (preferably Japanese kewpie brand)

ketchup (optional)

butter, oil, salt, pepper

At some point during the week, roast your broccoli: break/cut it into bite-sized florets, toss with a bit of oil, place on a foil-lined sheet pan, and roast at 450º for about 15 minutes, flipping once if you’re in the kitchen at the time. Let it cool and store it in the fridge for the week. This makes like 4-6 sandwiches. (If you don’t want to pre-roast your broccoli, prep it any other way you like: steam it, boil it, microwave it, whatever gets it to like 80% cooked. But remember that roasting vegetables is the best thing in the world.)

Butter one half of your muffin; put your cheese slice on the other half (folding the cheese corners in like you live on Battlestar Galactica.) Place the halves on a foil-lined sheet pan next to one sandwich’s worth of broccoli. Pop it all about 6″ under your broiler and let it go for 2-3 minutes; you want to see melted cheese, warm broccoli, and a browned muffin half; nothing darker than that. Salt the broccoli when done.

Meanwhile, heat a drop of oil in a teeny little egg pan just big enough for one egg. Crack the egg in and gently pop the yolk, maybe. Hit it with salt and pepper. Let it go for a minute, then deftly flip it with a little spatula; turn off the heat pretty much immediately and you’re done with it. (Since you probably don’t own a one-egg pan yet, you can also fry or scramble the egg any other way you normally do until your cute new pan arrives from Amazon.)

Arrange your broccoli on top of the melted-cheese muffin half, then top with the egg. Spread mayo and/or ketchup on the buttered + toasted muffin half. Combine the two halves and hum a triumphant fanfare tune. You’ve done it. You’ve made the Broccoli Breakfast Sandwich.

I should mention at this point that Tyler Kord’s original sandwich calls for deep-fried broccoli, but I’m not going to deep-fry anything in the morning since I’m not a restaurant. His sandwich is almost certainly even better; try it and let me know!

Which reminds me: I don’t always make the same exact broccoli sandwich. Depending on what’s in the fridge and how sassy I’m feeling, I might drop the ketchup or sub it with hot sauce; I might toast the whole thing in the manner of a grilled-cheese sandwich; I’ve been known to use black bean purée instead of cheese, for a Mexican torta vibe. The English muffin might take the morning off and have its role played by a fluffy burger bun. I used to scramble the eggs, but now I do more of an over-easy thing. All of this tastes good. Life is a journey.

You can also make a Broccoli Burger—if anyone fights you on it, have them call me and I’ll get them to apologize to you. Like, this one here has Russian-ish dressing of mayo, mustard, ketchup, diced pickle, and miso; then there’s diced onions, pickles; roasted broccoli finished in a hot pan with butter; cheddar, caramelized onions (the heavy hitter here), February Tomato™, and a bit more sauce. It’s all on a Franz Bakery burger bun, toasted of course. Does it taste like a beef burger? No. Ground beef doesn’t taste like roasted broccoli either, and it’s beef’s loss. Would I order this if places offered it? Definitely. (But they won’t.)

I didn’t want to junk up the recipe above any more by saying this when it first came up, but pre-roasting vegetables is such a smart move. You’re essentially committing to basing your weeknight dinners around practically-ready vegetables in the fridge, rather than around cold cuts or bread+cheese. So, pick up some broccoli, broccolini, cauliflower, eggplant, or sweet potatoes at the store; bring them home and send them on a hands-off journey in your oven until they’re soft and tasty—but not yet mushy!—and you’ll be the proud owner of such a good filling for sandwiches, burritos, frittatas, rice bowls, or even those fancy plates where you schmear on some tahini or whatever in the manner of a Japanese calligrapher, then top it with your veg. 

Your parents will be so proud of you. That friend of yours who exercises every day and eats salad for lunch will smile warmly. You’ll be a broccoli person.

Like me.

[psychospeak-blog]

Won’t Go Slowly // 22

One // Two  // Three // Four // Five // Six // Seven // Eight // Nine // Ten // Eleven // Twelve // Thirteen // Fourteen // Fifteen // Sixteen // Seventeen // Eighteen // Nineteen// Twenty // Twenty One

Warnings: NSFW Text

You were now horny and nauseous.

It was an extremely strange combination, but, essentially, all you wanted was for someone to just give you an orgasm while you laid extremely still on the bed.  Was that so much to ask?

It was kind of, sort of getting out of control.  To the point where you had to restrain yourself from just going and grinding on some guy's leg as he walked down the street.

It was bad.

And you were also know at the stage where it was kind of noticeable that you had a bump, when you were naked at least.  Or maybe it was just that way to you. But you knew, without a doubt, that there was no way that any guy was going to want to hook up with you if they knew you were pregnant.  

Not that you would do that anyways.  But still.

"Ask Tyler."

"Hmm?" You asked, looking over your head towards Danielle from where you were buttering your bread.  

"Ask Tyler," she repeated, "you said it was good."

Really good, actually. Maybe that was even a contributing factor in your increased libido: that you'd been having plenty of sex, and then it just stopped. But...

"I am not asking him," you said adamentaly.  Nope.  You were friends.  This was not part of your arrangement.  Although, he probably wouldn't mind.  And he did say if you needed anything...

But, nope.  You were not crossing that line.  Plus, not to mention, you'd probably never hear the end of it if you did.  "He's not even here, anyways," you reasoned.  That was that.

"He'd probably fly out here for two hours just to sleep with you and then go back home."

You laughed, but he actually probably would.  You were not doing that.

"Can we change the topic, please?" you asked hopefully, thankful when Danielle started talking about this guy she'd been seeing, and you listened as you continued to make your grilled cheese sandwich.  "Are you sure you don't want one?"

"No, I'm not five years old," she quipped, "Nor do I have a baby inside me."

"Well, you could..." you said, as you placed the sandwich on the pan, listening to it sizzle, smirking at her.

"Nope," she said quickly, "I think I'll just hang out with yours, and enjoy it, and then give it back when I'm done."

You laughed, gesturing to the stove, "Can you watch that for a sec?"  You were pretty sure the baby had just shifted or something, putting pressure on your bladder.

She nodded and you rushed off to the bathroom, pausing in the doorway of the room that was your office on the way back, thinking that you should probably start thinking about how you were going to rearrange that room now.  

When you came back, Danielle had your phone pressed to her ear, standing over the stove, and she rolled her eyes when she saw you, "Tyler is trying to teach me how to make the perfect grilled cheese."

"It's an art form!" you heard him yell.

Danielle was quiet for a moment as she listened to something that he said, and then she said, "No, I can't, I have a date that night," to which you could hear Tyler go "oooooh", "But thanks for asking though. Here, I'll let you talk to Y/N."

She was about to pass the phone off, when she stopped, listening to something else, and then rolled her eyes again, "Yes, I flipped the sandwich. It's fine."

You took the phone from her, pulling the pan off the heat, "Hey, what's up?" you answered as you went to grab yourself a plate.  And mustard.

"I just wanted to make sure that you want two tickets to the game, right?"

"Two?" you questioned, "Didn't you just ask Danielle and she said she couldn't come?  Who else am I going to bring?"

"I meant for you and the baby."

Your expression dropped and you sighed, directing your attention to cutting your sandwich. "Did you seriously just call me to ask that?"

Tyler laughed loudly in your ear, and you rolled your eyes, "Are you seriously eating while you're own the phone with me?" he asked.

"I have to otherwise I'll feel even more sick," you explained, practically stuffing food into your mouth,  "The baby's hungry."

"Well, you're its mother, tell it to stop it."

"I don't think it works like that," you laughed.

"It's super attractive to listen to you eat though."  When you didn't respond, he added, "I'm kidding, babe.  How many times have I been eating while talking to you?  And it's not even like I was pregnant."

"Was there something else you wanted?" you asked lightly, "Because you're kind of ruining my grilled cheese for me."

"Uh, yeah," he said, "what's your address?"

"My address?" You questioned, "What do you mean, what's my address? You come to my house all the time."

"Yeah, because I know where you live," he said, "But I don't know what you actual address is."

You were quiet for a moment.  "Why do you need to know what my address is?" you asked hesitantly.

"To send something to your house.  Duh."

"To send what to my house?"

"I'm not telling you," he said quickly, "That'd ruin the surprise."

You took a deep inhale and exhale.  "Tyler, you don't need to get me anything."

"Well, it's not for you," he said, like he was teasing you for being selfish for thinking so, "It's for the baby.  He or she lives there, too, remember?  But you can open it for them, since they can't really."

"You don't need to get anything for the baby," you said.

"I know," he said, "I want to.  Also, I'm starting my campaign for favourite uncle early."

"Well, I think you're going to be the only uncle..."

"Sweet, that was easy," he said happily, and then lowered his voice, "Also, I'm kind of gunning to be favourite aunt or uncle, but I didn't want to say anything because I know Danielle's right there."

You laughed, because of course he would turn this into a competition.  "Okay, but I'm not really ready for baby stuff right now," you said, "I need to clean out the closet in my office."

"Not even a little something?"

"No, I don't need a Dallas Stars onesie yet when I don't even have a baby to put in it yet."

"How do you even know that's what it is?"

"Because I know you.  It's either that or a baby jersey or something," you laughed, "You're tell me that's not what it is?"

"I'm not tell you what it is because you don't want any baby gifts yet," he said, "And it's supposed to be a surprise."

And now you felt kind of bad, because you probably just ruined the whole thing for him, so you made a mental note to act super happy when you received what likely was all the Dallas Stars baby gear available.  

"What are you girls doing?"

"We were just going to watch a movie," you said.

"Can I watch it with you? Or do you need me to hang up so you can talk about me?"

"We were not talking about you," you said, covering up the mouthpiece to ask Danielle if she minded if Tyler stayed on the phone, and she made a face like why were you even asking.

"You can watch with us," you told him.

"Good, I miss hanging out with you guys," he said, sounding rather pathetic, "Now, you go get your chips and then put me on the couch right between the two of you.  We can all cuddle."

**

You were trying desperately not to vomit.  

It wasn't the 15,000 people that surrounded you that was the problem, however.  Nope, it was the fact that Tyler's mother was sitting right next to you.

"I'll be right back," you said quickly, thankful that she just nodded at you and smiled, rather than following you to the bathroom.  You walked past the bathrooms, however, going outside, into the evening air which was crisp and wonderful, goosebumps raising up on your arms.  You took several deep breaths, unzipping your purse and searching for your antinausea medication, taking one with a sip from your water bottle.  You really should have filled that with lemonade, now that you thought about it.  You actually should have probably gotten yourself a snack, too, but the whole concourse was filled with the smell of pizza, and beer, and cooked meat, all of which was just downright nauseating to you.  

You were trying to decide if you could handle standing in line at a hot dog stand just to get a bag of potato chips, when someone walked past you, and you smelled it before you even saw it: they had grilled cheese.  You practically ran towards them, because you needed to know where they got it.  

And then you were pointed towards the holy grail: a place that just made grilled cheese.

Well, they actually specialized in mac and cheese, but who cared, because there were so many grilled cheese options.  And they all came with potato chips.

You settled on one that had guacamole, which was a bit of a step down from mustard, in your opinion, but that wasn't an option, and you were pretty sure that might get you some weird looks.  It had spinach too, which was a little unappetizing, but you supposed it was good for the baby, and you hoped the cheese would just cover it up.

You were smiling wide when you went back to your seat, your food in one hand and the cup of lemonade you'd found in the other.  

"The Leafs scored," Jackie said when you got back to your seat.

"Oh," you said.  You supposed you should look disappointed, but you couldn't even fake it.

"Oh, that looks good," she said.

"Yeah, did you want some?" You offered out of politeness.  Normally it would be genuine, but you kind of didn't want to share.  Then again, you supposed you could always get more.  You were a little relieved when she declined, however.

It turned out that guacamole on grilled cheese was quite good.  So good, in fact, that you may consider dipping half of your grilled cheese in mustard and the other half in guacamole from now on, assuming you could keep it down.  You were trying to eat it very slowly, concentrating on the potato chips, because you didn't want to get sick.

"Are you alright?" Jackie asked, and you followed her gaze to where your hand was rubbing your belly, which you'd been doing more often without realizing it.

"Oh, yeah," you said quickly, "just cramps."  You were hoping that would explain everything away, even if you were to throw up, because she knew about your endometriosis, of course. It might even work as a decent excuse until she knew you were pregnant anyways.  The plan was for Tyler to tell her when he was home for Christmas and had time to actually sit down and have a discussion with her, so you had to try and keep it on the downlow until then.  Which would be easier if you weren't so sick.

" Oh," Jackie frowned, already digging in her purse, "did you need some pain killers? I think I have..."

"No, I already took some," you lied, feeling bad even though it was a little white lie,  " thanks though."

Your conversation was broken up by a cheer, and you redirected your attention back to the ice.  You shivered, trying to see what had actually happened.  You always thought it would be colder in an ice rink than it actually was, and you thought you'd overdressed at first, but now that you'd been outside you were getting kind of chilly, and felt like curling up with a blanket.  So, you settled for the next best thing, just resting your arm on the armrest, your head in your hand, trying to follow the puck on the ice, but it was so small, and your eyes were so tired....

The next thing you knew your head jerked at the sound of a delighted scream next to you, your eyes flying open to take in the thousands of people who were not screaming and then your eyes flicked down to the ice where you saw a huddle of green and white jerseys celebrating, and you put together where you were and what was happening, clapping because you realized that was what you were supposed to be doing.

Jackie's hand came up, and you gave her a high-five, and then you realized that you still had food in your lap, and turned your attention back to that. You heard them announce the goal, and realized that Tyler had scored, and you didn't even catch the replay.  Oops.

You tried to pay attention, you really did, but offsides and everything was so confusing to follow and, with a little more food in your belly, you found yourself drifting off again, but you did, at least, wake up to see the last three minutes of the third, so that was an accomplishment.  And then you got to go down to see Tyler, which was the whole reason you came, anyways.  

You were waiting in the hallway when he came out, smiling at both of you, and Jackie, like her whole face just lit up when she saw him, hurrying over to give him and hug because she was just so happy to see her son, even though he was all grown up, and your face just immediately scrunched up with emotion, your lip quivering as you tried not to cry.

"Oh, are you alright?" Jackie asked, while Tyler was giving you the sweetest look which was not helping one bit.

"Yeah," you wiped quickly at your eye, "I think I'm just fighting off a cold or something" at the exact same time Tyler said "She's got allergies."

Her head bounced between the two of you, finally landing on Tyler.  "Allergies?  In October?"

"Yeah, I don't know, she's super weird," Tyler said to his mother, and then turned to you, "But, Hi."

He leaned in to give you a hug, but he had a bottle of water in one hand so he just sort of wrapped one arm fully around you, trying to place a kiss on your cheek but he kind of caught the corner of your lip and he just smelled so clean and good.  And all you could think about was just shoving him back against the wall, your hands running through his hair, which was still wet from his shower, a slight blush on his cheeks, his skin warm underneath you, your lips smashed together.  His hands would probably be running all up and down your back, pulling you closer, and maybe he'd slide his leg between yours, but you'd definitely have to get rid of his suit jacket, because that was too much fabric separating you and...

"Why are you breathing like that?" Tyler asked, looking down at you with a curious expression on his face, standing next to you like a normal person, his mother, oh god, his mother, standing right there in a circle with you both, your face immediately heating up.

"Tyler, I don't think she's feeling very well," Jackie said, "Be nice."

"Awe," Tyler said, his arm hooking around your shoulder and pulling you towards him, planting a kiss on your head, and then releasing you, and you could still feel the dampness from his hair on your skin.

"Great goal, honey," his mom said, and he smiled immediately.

"Yeah, it was great," you said, faking a smile, because he was looking at you for your reaction.

"Yeah?" he asked, "What did you think about my second one?"

"Oh," you said, about to say 'it was great', but you didn't want to just repeat yourself, so instead you said, "I had a feeling you were going to score again."

"Really?  Because I only scored the one," Tyler said, laughing loudly and then looking at you with a completely amused expression on his face, "Were you even paying attention?"

"Yeah, I saw you out there," you said, gesturing with your finger in figure eights, "Skating around with the puck and stuff."

"Skating around with the puck and stuff," he repeated with a laugh. "You know, when that little black thing goes into the other team's net, that's called a goal."

"Honey, I'm sure she tried her best," Jackie said.

"I mean, at least she showed up," Tyler said, "Neither one of the sisters wanted to come."

"They're busy with school," Jackie said, to which Tyler mumbled, 'well, they could have skipped class for their brother' which got him a stern look, "Speaking of, Y/N, you've got to come over for dinner again.  We've been missing you."

"Mom," Tyler whined, "Don't ask her over for dinner right in front of me."

"I'd love to," you said, "But I've been super busy with work.  Maybe when things calm down a bit?" What you really meant, was when your morning sickness, or rather, all-day sickness, had calmed down to a manageable level where you didn't have to worry about trying to hid about it.

"Yeah," Tyler said, hooking an arm around your shoulder again, smiling at his mom, "She's professing classes this semester."

Your head pulled back, frowning at him, "Professing classes?"

"Yeah, 'cause you're a professor."

You blinked a couple of times, running your hand through your hair, "That's not what 'professing' means," you said, "And I'm not a professor.  I'm just instructing."

Tyler shrugged, "Close enough."

You knew that you'd spent some time explaining the difference between a Master's degree and a PhD to him, and the different levels at a University.  And there had to be another conversation at some point, but you really didn't even remember that, because you were too busy staring at his lips as he spoke, thinking that maybe they looked a little bigger than normal?  Or had they always been like that? You certainly didn't remember his hands looking quite so big in comparison to a water bottle, either.  You barely remembered saying goodbye to him, other than the sensation of his beard brushing against your jawline when he kissed you goodbye on the cheek, and the warmth and weight of his body.  You were pretty sure that you'd said 'you too' to his mom when she told you to drive safely, but you weren't entirely sure because you were trying to keep your mind off the incredibly impure thoughts you were having of her son, until you could get to your car, and finally squeeze your thighs together in peace.

It was incredibly difficult to focus on driving home, but you did so, because you weren't about to get in a car crash over this.  You were happy when you were finally home though, safe in your driveway, unbuttoning your pants before you'd even had the front door closed behind you or your shoes off.  You realized, however, that you'd need to take your boots off before you could get your pants off, so you unzipped them with one hand, your other hand dipping right into your panties, finding your clit and applying just a little pressure, your mouth falling open and your head tilting to the side as you let out a little sigh of relief.  Even with the little room you had to maneuver, you could tell just how wet you were, just from thinking about him.

You played with yourself for a couple of minutes, just sitting there on the chair by your front door, just enough to take the edge off, before you got up, pushing your pants and panties down your leg, turning your bedroom light down low, and crawling into bed, pulling the blanket up around you. Your fingers rubbed circles around your clit, just the way that you knew you liked it, dipping down into your slit to gather your arousal, spreading it around your swollen bundle of nerves.  You were already throbbing though, it was almost too good too fast, and you slowed down just a little, your hand pushing up your shirt and under your bra, gripping your breast, which was fairly sensitive actually, so you just kind of held it for a moment, enjoying the tingles running up and down your body, catching your breath.

Your hand dipped down again, your eyes falling shut when you slipped a finger inside yourself, your muscles clenching around it immediately.  Experimentally, your added another finger, curving it just right, moaning out loud as your head sunk back down into the pillows, your body shifting around on the bed.  You were trying to just focus on the sensations in your body but, you eyes slipped shut, and your body seeming to move by itself, a vision of Tyler coming into your mind.  He was kissing down your body, over your hips, lips sucking gently at your skin. You pictured his head slipping between your legs, because you hadn't gotten a chance to do that, your hands moving through his hair as he licked and kissed at you.  He'd probably pull away just to grin up at you cockily, his brown eyes connecting with yours, and then his tongue stiffening, circling your entrance.  It was this you imagined as your fingers dropped from yourself, going to your breast and then gripping the sheets as little whimpers came from your mouth, doubling your efforts on your clit and picturing him fucking with his tongue, looking up at you, until you came, sinking down back on the bed, a satisfied smile on your face.  

You should probably feel a little guilty, after the fact, now that you'd thought about one of your best friends while getting off, but you kind of didn't, the smile reappearing back on your face as your hand trailed back between your legs, vaguely wondering if you should get a snack before or after you went for round two.

[wroteasongabouther]

fratboy!harry - part 3

thanks for all the love so far guys!! get over to my ask box and request any kinda blurb from this college world i’m living in or any questions you’ve got either!

fratboy!harry tag >> story page

First week of classes and you already felt like dropping out. When you got here to your second year of uni, you were excited but now you were trying your hardest to write out even a page of notes during this lecture. Scribbling down another point from your professor, you blink a few times at your page and try to comprehend what you wrote. After a moment, you shake your head and look back up to the front.

Only a few minutes pass by, and one more point is written on your notebook, when your phone lights up beside you. It’s a notification from Snapchat, from a certain someone who can’t seem to leave you alone these days it seems. You bite down on your bottom lip to quit from smiling at Harrys name - which of course he added an angel emoji after, makes total sense since he’s the furthest thing from an angel. 

Snaps from Harry consisted of a few things. Sometimes they were selfies - both hot as hell or making stupid faces. Other times it’s artistic, using the pen tool in any colour to make a masterpiece that makes you laugh every time. As you tap your screen, you find out it’s the latter of the two predictions your had. 

Harry too was in his morning lecture, sitting rather close - which you know wouldn’t have been his choice. His professor is an older man wearing glasses and dressed in pants just a little too high, he’s reaching to write on the white board to finish an equation. Harry snapped the picture and coloured away on it. Having a stick figure grasping the prof from behind, seagulls above him, and Harry draws a big white boat for the prof to stand on with ‘TITANIC’ on the side. The caption read ‘I’ll never let go Jack’, and Harry had you chuckling in the back of your class yet again. 

You double tap his name and get the front facing camera, rolling your eyes and hitting the screen to take a photo. After putting a filter over it and typing out ‘Forever shipping them’ - pun intended - you set down your phone and look back to your professor. You’re not completely surprised when Harry responds rather quickly. 

“Hey,” a voice whispers from beside you. You look up and see a bright white toothy smile from the boy sitting beside you. “Did you need notes from today?” He asks, it’s a nice gesture considering you barely had any from the whole lesson today. 

“Uh, yeah,” you nod while looking over at his Macbook, full of notes it seems, “that’d be really great actually,” 

“I could email them to you, if you’d like? I just noticed you were kinda out of it today,” he gives you another smile while clicking a few times to share his notes from today. 

As you type out your email in his laptop, he’s watching you - you could just tell. Once you put in your info, you lean back in your seat and take your turn to watch him. He’s cute, short brown hair, brown eyes, great arms, definitely a football player if you were to take a guess. As an email notification comes on your phone, you get the name of the stranger beside you.

“Thanks, James,” you say with a smile.

“No problem, Y/N,” he says. 

He’s about to talk more to you when your professor raises their voice to remind the class about the assignment due at the end of the week - which was two days away. You shut your eyes and tilt your head back, knowing very well you hadn’t even started the assignment. Looks like you were about to pull another late night.

Class ends and you sit back in your chair while getting your things together. You can see James taking his time beside you. Everything inside of you was hoping he wasn’t about to stick around and flirt your ear off. Thankfully, god was on your side today, and James simply threw his backpack on. 

“See you around,” James says. 

“Yeah, thanks again for your notes,” you smile and give him a quick wave before he walks off. 

As you’re walking out of the lecture room you open Harry’s snap. This time it’s a selfie, the angle working well for his jawline of course, with the caption reading ‘Punny one’. You snap a blurry selfie of you smiling and respond ‘Thanks I’ll be here all week’ before making your way to the closest coffee shop - Starbucks near the main doors of the building.

It was only 10:30 and you were going to need a venti size iced coffee to survive your next and final class for today. So with your coffee in hand, you scroll around on your phone and walk across campus to your next lecture hall. The sun’s shining high in the clear blue sky, the heat getting to you as you get only half way to your class. You unzip your sweater and set down your backpack on the ground to slip out of your sweater, tying it around your waist.

Once you’re back on your way, you get another snap from Harry. The snap is blurry, but you know who it’s of - zoomed in as you fix your hair after tying your sweater at your hips. It was a good picture, flattering of your body honestly. Harry’s artistic skills are flames around you this time.

“Creep,” you mumble to yourself before sending a snap - eyes rolling and swiping a filter on.

Thank god for that coffee, or else you wouldn’t have made it through your class. After grabbing lunch, sitting with your laptop open while going over some notes and eating a sandwich, you decide to head to the library to get started on that assignment you hadn’t touched yet. As you walk through the rather busy building, you notice a familiar figure.

Harry is sitting on a couch, notes beside him while he wrote in another note book. He looks focused, brows pulled together while he rolls his lips into his mouth. A week later, and you still couldn’t stop thinking of how hot he was. You two had only bumped into each other once after he drove you to your dorm - first day of class, very brief but very flirtatious. Otherwise it was Snapchats or text messages, never really planning to see each other either. Not that you were completely complaining, but you were sort of happy to see him sitting there alone.

You must’ve been standing still for too long. Harry’s eyes slowly lift up, finding you a few feet away. You catch those dimples immediately and chuckle while walking towards him. Dressed in a mustard yellow vintage looking tshirt, black jeans with a rip in one knee, vans upon his feet and a mess of hair atop his head - he sure did look good.

“Hey,” you say once you’re standing in front of him.

“Long time no see,” Harry smiles.

“Been busy, classes are really kicking my ass,” you sigh and feel the weight of your backpack.

“Sit,” Harry orders, pushing his notes aside for you to join him at the other side of the couch he had taken to himself. For a moment you second guess it, thinking of declining and finding your own space far away from the hot frat boy. But instead you nod once and plop down on the couch.

“Whatcha working on?” You ask while unzipping your backpack.

“Network algorithms,” Harry answers in a monotone voice as he goes back to his work. Your eyebrows fly up at his words, you were expecting something like some bullshit business class. Not network algorithms that was for sure.

“What are you majoring in?” You question. Harry looks up from his work and brings both his arms back to stretch behind him. Again, it was pretty hot.

“Computer sciences and programming,” he answers.

“Actually?” You can’t seem to register that this hot Brit who you met at his fraternity house while drinking beers all night was in computer sciences.

“Uh yeah,” Harry chuckles and scratches the back of his head, “what did ya think I was doing?” He asks, a smug look on his face as he seems to gather the fact you’re rather impressed with his choice of degree.

“Open studies, probably just here for some athletic program,” you shrug.

“Well, y’got half it right,” Harry smiles.

“So, you’re like really smart or something like that?”

“Yeah, got the brains and the beauty,” Harry winks. And there’s that cocky frat boy you knew. Rolling your eyes, you focus back to your things and open up your laptop to find your assignment.

Harry doesn’t say anything for the few minutes it takes for you to set yourself up, instead he just watches you with his dimples on display. And once you’re all situated, Harry goes back to his algorithms. Only about twenty minutes pass before you’re over thinking everything and lean back against the arm of the couch with a big sigh. It should be relatively easy, but somehow your prof has you all confused. 

“Anything I can help with?” Harry asks, causing you to look away from your laptop, “now that y’know I’m so smart, you should really take advantage of it, little bird,” 

“Take advantage of you, huh?” you joke, flipping the switch and you smirking at him this time. 

Harry isn’t as quick with a comeback as you thought he’d be. Instead he sticks his tongue out to lick his lips before adjusting how he’s sitting on the couch. When he’s eyes are back on you, they are just as desirable and flirtatious as usual. You give him a big smile of triumph - you had just made Harry speechless. 

“What are you working on?” Harry asks. 

“An assignment for History of Psychology,” you state, eyes back on the description of the assignment, “my prof just sucks at explaining some things,” you add while scanning over your notes to find what this assignment was even for.

“Who do you have?” 

“Professor McGallen,” you frown. 

“Oh yeah, had him in my first year,” Harry states while grabbing a half full water bottle from the floor beside him, “he’s a real pain sometimes,” 

“Big time,” you sigh and glance back at the assignment, “I’m sure I’ll figure this out, I’m not like really struggling in the class and it’s the first bit of work so it should be easy, right?” 

“I believe in you,” Harry smiles. You narrow your eyes at him, wanting to roll them at his cheesy line. Instead you grab your pen and notebook and prop up one knee to be able to write. 

Another hour goes by with the both of you hard at work. But you’d be lying if you said you didn’t glance over at Harry when you got a chance. It was only fair though, because Harry did the same thing. Didn’t take an idiot to know there was plenty of tension between you two - the sexual kind, to be exact. You bite down on your pen while working out some of the notes James had emailed you earlier and get going. All is well, till a group of rumbustious guys walk up towards the couch you and Harry were seated at a while later.

“Harry, my man,” a large man - tall and muscle wise - came out of nowhere with two more behind him. You notice he has some large tattoo on his dark skin, he wore a white hat backwards and was dressed in all black. He was pretty attractive too, couldn’t deny it. 

“Hey guys,” Harry smiles and give each of them one of those half assed bro high five hug things. And after each one, the three boys all look your way. 

You lift up a hand and give them a short wave. Talk about awkward, something told you these were just a few of Harry’s frat brothers, and something else told you Harry wasn’t the kinda guy to just casually hang out with a girl. 

“Uh, guys this is Y/N,” Harry introduces you to his friends, “this is Eddy, Mark, and Brandon,” he runs through each of their names quickly. 

“Lovely to meet you, missy,” Eddy, the large man who decided shouting in the library was cool, coos out while grabbing ahold of your hand and placing a kiss to the back. 

“You too,” you chuckle at his gesture. 

Brandon and Mark just stare before bringing up some sort of time change for their morning practice - so you were right, Harry did some sort of sport here. Only made sense though, since he was your typical hot frat boy, not adding jock to that description would just be absurd. The boys continue to be rowdy as you try your hardest to stay focused on your assignment, which you had barely done half of through the couple hours here now. 

“Heard Lins is pretty pissed with you lately,” Eddy says to Harry, you glance up through your lashes to look at the boys again. Eddy is nudging Harry, his brown eyes wide as he makes it seem like whoever this Lins person is being pissed is a real bad thing. 

“Lindsey? Wasn’t she literally over just last night?” Brandon asks, furrowing his brows at Harry. 

Why did it feel like someone just stabbed you in the gut? You swallow and tuck a piece of hair behind your hair. You catch Harry’s eyes flashing towards you, but you’re quick to look back at your laptop and act as if you weren’t listening in. You shouldn’t be so surprised, of course Harry had girls at his feet. 

“Y’know, it’s Lindsey,” Harry says - how very vague of him. 

And why were you suddenly so angry? You bite the inside of your bottom lip and type out a sentence for your assignment. Eddy lets out a hollowing laugh, slapping Harry’s shoulder before leaning forward as he sat on the arm of the couch. 

“You’re fucking crazy, man,” Eddy laughs. 

“Hey, Lindsey may be a handful but she’s fucking hot,” Mark states. 

The others all say some sort of agreement, while Harry just keeps quiet and nods once. You don’t even notice how much and how roughly you’re biting on your bottom lip till you taste the tangy blood in your mouth. As the boys keep talking beside you, you decide it’s time you left. Wether it was their obnoxious voices in the library or this talk of who Harry’s sleeping with, but you wanted to leave now. 

“Oh, no, don’t leave,” Eddy says as he notices you packing up, “we’re leaving soon anyways,” he adds. 

“No, it’s fine, really,” you stuff your laptop into the big pocket of your bag before zipping it up and grabbing your phone from the couch cushion. “I’m getting hungry anyways and have food in my dorm I should eat,” you say with a tight smile. It wasn’t a lie, but it was a good cover up. 

“Oh, okay,” Eddy smiles back and nods while jumping around to take your seat beside Harry now. “See ya around, missy,” he grins. 

“See ya,” you wave and just before you’re about to walk off, you look at Harry. 

He rolls his lips into his mouth, wetting them, before speaking, “text you later, good luck with the assignment,” he says. 

“Yeah, bye,” you mumble out before turning on your heels and leaving behind the bitter feeling that couch was giving you since a certain conversation had begun. 

As you are walking out into the fresh air outside, your phone vibrates in your hand. You expect it to be Harry, for some odd reason, but are proven wrong as you see it’s a notification for an email. Squinting as the setting sun gets in your eyes, you check being crossing the street that your dorm building was on before opening your phone to check the email. It’s from James. 

A smile tugs on your lips as you read it, ‘how are the notes treating you? need any more pointers?’, how thoughtful. You type out a quick reply ‘maybe, tomorrow after class?’

Once you’re inside your dorm, throwing your backpack on your bed and then flopping down beside it, you get a response from James. He agrees to sticking together after class for some help, and you’re actually really thankful because his notes from today were a lot more helpful than yours were from the rest of the week. Plus, thinking of James got out the thoughts of Harry and some crazy chick named Lindsey.

[reapers-carino]

Poly R76 with an omega civilian s/o? Like they're both Alphas and their S/O has nothing to do with Overwatch and everyone just thinks Jack and Gabe are mates until their s/o drops in? (bonus points if they're dropping off cookies)

You both loved and hated the Geneva base. It was absolutely gorgeous on the outside; a sleekly designed building with a newly erected statue of Jack and a large museum dedicated to the heroes and the world that had risen up after the Omnic Crisis. There was even a gift shop and restaurant where the food wasn’t half bad. a stand for ice cream and balloons and a sitting area for visitors to relax and enjoy the ‘ambiance’. The thing that you absolutely abhorred, however, was the actual building meant for Overwatch and Blackwatch personnel. You had turned down one hallway too many, utterly lost in the maze of hallways.

Admittedly, you understood why the base was structured the way it was. Overwatch was not only a remnant of the war but a peacekeeping organization that had its hand in every major international conflict both legally and occasionally illegally. Overwatch was not a small organization and even Blackwatch was nothing to turn your nose up at, both requiring ample space both administratively and practically. There were practice ranges, R&D departments of every kind, a state of the art trauma center along with many other types of offices neither of your mates had divulged to you. A base that was easily navigated was easily sabotaged, infiltrated and destroyed. So even if you were lost, you could take it in stride. Plus you had treats for them.

You had managed to dig up an old-fashioned wicker basket, no doubt a gift from Jack’s mother and father way back when they had visited last year. You had spent a good portion of the morning filling the basket with their favorites like something out of one of those classic movies or musical Gabriel loved so much. A medium rare roast beef sandwich piled high with layers of carmelized onions, blue cheese, spinach and spicy mustard for Jack (an ample handful of mints stuffed along the side to handle the post-sandwich breath). For Gabriel, braised chicken you had simmered the night before stacked high on a roll with tomatoes, fried onions, spring mix and his guacamole spread on top. The sandwiches were carefully stacked to the side of the basket, one container filled with sliced apples and mangoes and another filled with carrots and peppers and finally a tupperware container filled to the brim with your homemade cookies. Milk chocolate chunk cookies and snickerdoodles, sectioned off with a thin layer of hard plastic.

Somehow, the scent of the cookies seemed to overtake the harsh scent of both of their sandwiches, hints of vanilla and brown sugar and butter clinging to your skin and dress from all the baking you had done that morning. It mingled with your natural scent; roses petals, amber and sweets making you smell like quite the treat. Now if only you could sniff out your mates…You chuckled idly, knowing that without an impending heat or an early rut, your scents didn’t stand out that intensely in a crowd. Still…there had to be a way to find them…

“Excuse me ma’am? You can’t be back here. This area is for authorized personnel only.”

You jumped slightly as a hand gently tapped your shoulder, twisting around on your heel to see the concerned face of one of the security personnel for the building. His hand loosely grasped the blaster pistol on his hip, his eyes immediately looking you up and down warily. You smiled warmly at him, knowing the man was only doing his job even if the gesture was mildly threatening. In his defense, you stood out like a sore thumb and it was a wonder you had made it so far. Everyone walking through the halls had some type of uniform that signified that they were Overwatch personnel, often a CAC card also affixed outwardly to their person. You, on the other hand, wore a cream-colored Delores swing dress that was covered in pink and red roses of all maturities. You had even managed to dig up a pair of rose-colored ankle strap pumps, looking the perfect image of neo-50s fashion.  

“Oh oh it’s okay”, you said quickly, laying on the charm as your eyes broke away from his, head tilting down as you opened the clutch that hung loosely around your left wrist. Your entire body jumped, a squeak of shock barely swallowed in your throat as he pulled the blaster from his hip and pointed it at you. Lifting your hands into the air, the basket held tightly in one hand and your cloth swinging freely on the other side. You gulped nervously as the suspicion the man regarded you with intensified. “Hey, I have ID and an access card…it’s just in my clutch, I swear.”

You kept your voice calm and even, thickly laying on your omega charm despite the heavy feeling of fear that made your legs quiver. His gun remained trained on you as he cautiously reached for the small bag, unzipping it and allowing the content to fall freely to the floor below. You fought the small pout that threatened to rise up, your favorite lipstick rolling to the left, a tube of mascara to the right, your IDs scattering on the floor. He glanced at the floor then you, slowly lowering to a knee, warily picking up the identification card as well as the deep blue translucent card with the Overwatch symbol on the back. His brow furrowed briefly for a moment as he looked at your ID then your Overwatch CAC card, his jaw going slack for a moment before he scrambled to put his gun away. He dropped to both knees and began to pick up all the items that had fallen on the floor, stammering an apology as he did so. 

“I am so so sorry, Mrs. Reyes-Morrison! I-I had no idea!”

Lowering your arms you shook your head dismissively, smiling appreciatively as he assisted you with putting all of the items back into the clutch. The man was simply doing his job, preventing any hostiles or unknowns from getting too far into the building. Most of the world did not know that you were the mate of two of the greatest war heroes of the time, save for close friends and family. To the rest of the world, Gabriel and Jack were mated Alphas a power couple to end all power couples

“It’s fine”, you answered back quickly, dipping your head in thanks as he took a nervous half-step away from you. “I always get turned around when I visit…usually Gabe or Jack meets up with me but I wanted to surprise them for once.”

“Oh well ma’am this is the completely wrong building”, the agent answered genuinely, before reaching for a walkie-talkie on the opposite side of his waist. “This is the records wing. But, I can get you a ride to the admin side!”

“Really”, you gasped out, letting out a sigh of relief as he nodded emphatically, ordering a small transport cart to that location. 

“I swear to god if we have to watch another slideshow”, Jack sighed as the last of the attendees of that meeting filtered out of the room, lightly pressing his hand against his eyes to sooth some of the tension away.  Gabriel made his way around from his side of the table, his arm sliding across Jack’s shoulders, hand squeezing his bicep lightly. 

“I dunno Jack”, Gabe teased, a small smirk teasing his lips as the blonde looked away from his datapad. “I thought the whole ‘interactive’ feature was a nice touch. Who knew that charts could be so fun when you can adjust the budget.”

Jack snorted quietly, rolling his eyes briefly before pushing himself away from the table. Gabriel gave a half step back but didn’t release the man, Jack’s arm sliding around the Blackwatch Commander’s waist. A low hum of contentment rumbled through the both of them, each allowing the comforting scent and touch of one another temporarily soothe the stresses of that long morning away. They’d draw comfort from stealing a quick lunch with one another before they’d have to go their separate way; training, requisitions, and mission planning for two separate organization. The only moments they could steal were the ones when they could venture home; spending a bit of time with their omega and eating before dropping in exhaustion. Rinse, wash, repeat. 

“Come on sweet cheeks”, Jack said, snickering as he quickly pinched Gabriel’s rear. Gabriel glared down at his mate, no real malice in his gaze, only earning a cheeky smirk back before he pressed a chaste kiss to Jack’s lips.  “Let’s see what the cafeteria is serving up.”

“Lead the way Commander.”

Jack’s hand lightly pressed on Gabriel’s back, escorting him from the room with a small smile. Gabe dipped his head down, scenting Jack briefly before pausing, his nose still pressed against the shell of his ear as his brow furrowed in confusion. He could smell Jack’s scent,  crisp Autumn air and cedarwood and spice…but your scent was much stronger than the lingering scent he had smelled on the blonde this morning. 

“Do you smell that”, Jack asked, saltwater and musk and black coffee suddenly minced with roses and brown sugar. 

“Just about to ask–”

“Gabi! Jackie!”

You carefully lifted yourself out of the seat that the security guard had provided for you, a wide smile splitting your face as you practically skipped over to the men. The looks on their faces made this absolutely worth it; confusion morphing into shock and then surprise and excitement as you moved closer. A squeal of genuine happiness left your lips as both men moved in tandem Gabriel grabbing the picnic basket as Jack grabbed you about the waist and twirled you, setting you down only for Gabriel to do the same. 

Both dipped their heads down, kissing on either side of your cheek, your face briefly nuzzling against either one of them as you soaked in the scent and presence of your darling Alphas.

“Now this is a pleasant surprise”, Jack said, pressing yet another kiss to the top of your head. 

“I wanted to bring you boys lunch since I know you’re not feeding yourselves”, you teased, grinning as they both tried to open their mouths to create an excuse. 

You held up a hand, chuckling as you took the basket from Gabriel, flipping open the top and pulling out the container of cookies. A spark of giddiness traveled through you as you watched their eyes get wide, eyes dragging away from the container and back to you as both surged forward, covering both of your cheeks and ears and sides of your jaw in affectionate kisses.

“Wait is that roast beef”, Jack asked, hand edging towards the basket just as you managed to placed the cookies back and slam the top closed. 

“Mhmm”, you answered with a proud nod before shaking your head as the man tried to sneak back in there. “We are going to have a proper lunch like a proper pack, okay? So lead the way to the cafeteria!”

“Alright alright”, Jack acquiesced, taking the basket as you gave him a warning glare and offering you his free hand. Gabriel grabbed your other one, a wide smile creasing your lips as you were flanked by both of your mates. This was something you had missed, you’d have to do this more often. 

[b-afterhours]

For What It’s Worth (one-shot) revised

Summary: AU Bill in the 1970′s, meeting his wife and living a life of activism and travel. 

Inspired by asks sent to me imagining Bill in the 70′s. It gets fluffy in some parts too.

warnings: swearing, super light sexual comments.

She was packing sandwiches away inside a worn tan canvas and leather knapsack in the small kitchen, padding back and forth from the fridge to the counter barefoot. The windows and front door were wide open allowing the breeze in despite the January chill of '73. It was expected to heat up to fairer weather, it was California after all, you can't keep the sun away.

She stuffed two thermoses inside the knapsack, one with coffee and the other with homemade chicken and dumplings she had prepared the night before. Drifting through the window she could hear the slow bass beats of, I Heard It Through The Grapevine, from the outside garage. Delightfully she listened as she tied up a bandanna on her head to finish off the look of her high ponytail. As she got closer to the door she heard her husband muttering obscenities to himself as he tinkered with their wretched truck. They've had nothing but trouble with it. It was a wedding gift from her father, but frankly, it was just a piece of shit '65 Ford that he couldn't get sold off his used car lot. And with the miles on it, the transmission was on the verge of giving out.

"Are you gonna get it running, Bill?" She said warily but hopeful as to not discourage him from his work.

He huffed and pushed his shag hair back, out of his eyes. "Yeah..." he said focused as he screwed some bits on the engine. "Actually," he paused, "can you get behind the wheel and start her up for me? Starters acting up but... I think I got it," his eyes shifted skeptically.

"Antifreeze leak, yesterday. The starter today?" She muttered before climbing in the drivers' side. The truck swallowed her small frame, she looked like a child in the thing. Turning the key, the starter clicked a few times but – nothing.

"Shit," Bill exasperated. His wife hopped out the truck with a slight frown. "Don't worry I'll get it to work, promise," he assured. "You got everything packed and ready?"

She nodded, "just waiting on you, love."

"Well," he sighed, "just sit your pretty butt down." He winked. "I think I know what it is now." He shrugged his distressed jean jacket off  – which he's had since she met him – he was getting serious. He reached back down into the engine, the V cut of his pale hips showing as his cut off shirt rose up.

The truck was a piece of shit but she liked the view of her husband working hard on it that was for sure. Ten minutes had passed and it looked like Bill was getting nowhere while he basically just banged the engine with a wrench out of frustration. They needed the truck up and running to go to Berkeley. They were protesters – that's how they met – at a Vietnam protest years ago and they were still at it. Every year, every other month and even today they still couldn't believe they were still protesting this shit.

They had friends and family drafted in an unjust war. Bill narrowly escaped receiving that dreadful draft letter. Twenty-five was the cut off age – but his birthday was later in the year and they were scared. So two years ago, they got married and in the same year tried for a baby, so he'd be 100 percent ineligible to go. It was all for naught, he had just turned 27 and she was no longer scared of him leaving and coming back in a box. The baby though was still pending... They were too busy marching the streets in different cities across the country. Which meant they didn't really have a proper home base. They stayed with friends and family here and there or rented and bailed before the next payment. It was fun and free and they knew they were fighting for the right thing. Together, no less.

Bill glanced over at his wife picking at her nails impatiently. She glanced up at him through her lashes.

"Could you play something less depressing?" She said commenting on Tuesday's Gone.

Bill smirked. "It's Skynard, babe," he said which earned him a playful eye roll from her. "And besides its radio. We left the record player in Phoenix, remember?"

"Yeah, I remember," she sighed wistfully at the thought of it. She was surprised they hadn't run the needle dull on that thing, it was already old. They spent their evenings playing records, drinking cold beers and swaying together to Otis Reading Hits during their stay that scorching hot Phoenix summer.

"Wanna start the truck up again?"

"Is it gonna start this time?" She said climbing in the truck.

"I'll get you a brand-spankin' new record player if it does," he winked. She turned the key in the ignition, click! click! click! over and over and then, the engine roared back to life. "Hey," Bill cheerfully shouted. He slammed the hood down with a big grin of accomplishment on his face. Before getting in he tossed his tools in the truck bed, he never knew when the car was going to give him problems so better safe than sorry.

"So, you owe me a record player," his wife said sliding over to the passenger seat as he got in.

"Of course. Was planning to anyway," he leaned over to kiss her but she stopped him.

"You got some grease on your mustache," she said licking her thumb and rubbing it away. "And on your sideburn," she giggled as she took care of it and kissed him.

On the road, they listened to the tunes on the radio with the windows down. His wife put on her mirrored aviators and leaned into the side of him, kicking her bare feet out the window. Because of her laid-back position, he put a light arm around her neck and kissed the top of her head as he drove with one hand on the steering wheel.

"What did you pack for lunch," he asked.

"Soup and salami sandwiches."

"Extra mustard?"

"Yes, extra mustard on yours I know how much you like that nasty stuff."

Bill lightly laughed. As they drove on, he noticed her falling asleep as she slipped from his shoulder closer to the seat. He didn't dare disturb her, she was up in the morning before him getting everything ready to go to Berkeley. He reached over to her to scan the radio and stopped when he heard a tune he hadn't heard in some time – Fats Domino, Ain't That A Shame. He smiled to himself remembering when he last heard it. It took him back to the day he met his wife. ~~~

In Washington, DC, he was in town to see his buddies off to Vietnam in the fall of 1970. He would be lying if he said he didn't feel guilty sitting at a bar with them just before they went overseas on a big Navy ship. Neither of them wanted to go. The draft lottery was just that, a lottery. With his last name being Skarsgard, he had higher chances of not getting picked since it was further down the alphabet. But one of his buddies that he was currently having a beer with, had the last name, Steadman, further down the alphabet than his. It stuck alarm in him which he felt selfish for somehow ending up the lucky one when his friend didn't have that luxury. He remembered seeing good ol' Charlie Steadman at the pool hall, his long curly hair gone, now donning a fresh buzz cut and he knew, his friend was going off to the jungles of Vietnam. Bill lucked out but he hated thinking of it that way.

"Heard there's a nudie bar a few blocks away," his friend Joe said wagging his brows suggestively.

"You're already three sheets to the wind, Joe," Charlie laughed. "You were here before Bill and me!"

"Ah," he waved them off. "You two shmucks were takin' too long for me."

Bill was laughing at the both of them when he noticed the street steadily filling up with people out the bars front window. "What's going on outside," Bill asked straightening up in his seat to get a better look.

"More 'Nam, protesters and hippies," Joe shrugged, taking the rest of his Jim Beam to the back of his throat.

"And, Lyndon Johnson's in town for whatever reason, rat bastard," Charlie curled his lip.

"Johnson's just a bastard," Joe burped. "Nixon's the rat bastard," he corrected his friend.

"Lookin' pretty intrigued there, Bill," Charlie nudged him with his elbow.

"Just, never seen a protest this close up before." He hadn't taken his eyes off the crowd chanting, holding signs and marching the street. What he loved seeing so far, was that everyone got together to fight against the war from every creed, class, and color.

"Well quit your lookin'. Let's go," Charlie swung his legs around his stool and lead the way out into the middle of marchers.

With Joe and Charlie in their military uniforms, over the chanting, people would approach them offering to get them out of DC. To harbor them until the war was over, to save them from what everyone felt was a certain death. They would politely decline but they both loved and relished in the attention. Bill walked a little further ahead, away from the girls clinging on to his uniformed friends. The march began to stall as people approach a small park up ahead which harbored the hub of the protest. He pushed through to get to higher ground and to avoid getting crammed in.

He found a nice little spot by a birch tree at the edge of the crowd as the people huddled around a park bench. Stood on top was a guy with hair past his shoulders shouting in a loudspeaker delivering bullet points on the travesties of the war and preaching peace to the people as they cheered him on. Coming from the back end of the crowd he saw a few girls chanting with signs in their hands.

"Hey! Hey! LBJ! How many kids are you gonna kill today?!" They said in unison.

One girl lagging a bit behind them caught his attention. She was the shortest one. Her high waisted blue jean bell bottoms looking more like a skirt on her frame. Not even the heeled, brown leather Chelsea boots could help it. But her long straight black middle-parted hair that almost reached her rear is what caught his attention as it flowed in the wind like a curtain. Even from where he stood he could see the thick black mascara coating her long lashes and her rouge red plump lips. She was cute, he thought, stunning even. He took a look at the sign she had above her head, her message was simple, 'FUCK NIXON'. Just a quick as he saw her she was lost in the crowd and commotion.

"Bill! There you are!" Joe said catching up to him with Charlie right behind him not long after seeing the petite dark-haired girl he couldn't seem to shake from his mind.

"So," Joe handed him a lit hand-rolled cigarette, "nudie bar is just up the street from here."

Bill exhaled smoke. "Fine. Let's go. You won't be seein' tits for a while," he laughed.

"Oh fuck off," Joe grumbled. "I'll get your sister to mail me some pictures."

"Joe, you drunk ass," Charlie playfully smacked his head accidentally knocking off his military cap. "Sisters are off limits." ...

"Way to go, Joe," Bill grumbled shaking his head.

They were all begrudgingly walking back to the bar they had met at earlier that day since they had all gotten kicked out of Ladie Rouge because Joe wanted to be loud and grabby. They passed by the park again, most of the protesters had packed it in but still remained a hub of die-hards congregated around the same park bench. Though this time someone was strumming their guitar and crooning a folk song into the night. As they turned the corner, his buddies had bumped into some military friends they knew from boot camp.

"There's a little party going on not too far from here," One of the Navy men said. He only introduced himself to Bill by his last name, Johnson. "So what do y'all say? Up for it?"

Charlie and Joe, looked over at Bill to seal the vote. "Night's still young," he shrugged.

Bill's knees nearly pressing to his chest as he fit his long body in the crammed Ford Granada. On the way to the house party, Bill couldn't help but feel left out as all the other men talked about how fast they could assemble their rifles and how many sit-ups they could do in a minute. Fortunately, the house was close by saving him from having to just sit there out of the loop, nodding his head to things he didn't quite understand.

Upon arriving he could hear The Rolling Stone's being played loudly from the back garage of them home. He paused making sure this was the place but also because he didn't want to walk alone into a strangers party. The group was lagging behind him, he blamed his long legs for his strident pace.

He felt a hand on his shoulder. "This way man," Johnson said now taking the lead.

They walked into a decent party of 20 people give or take and he was promptly handed a Coors. He tossed his head back taking a few gulps to relax. Soon he was laughing along with his military friends and chumming it up after getting comfortable. Ain't That A Shame, began to play and he heard a few girls squeal in glee over the tune. He put a cigarette to his lips and turned his head in their direction to light it. When he brought the flame close to his face is when he saw her. She was sitting on the top of a dusty couch her feet planted on the seat cushions. A beer in her hand and a cigarette in the other emphatically singing along.

"You made, me cry, when you said, goodbye! Ain't that a shame!!" She practically scream-sang along with her girlfriends.

Seeing her by chance in the middle of a crowd of a Vietnam protest, he was surprised – shocked really – to see her now in the smokey haze of some unfamiliar garage. He could see tears at the corner of her eyes as she sang. Was she having a good time or was she sad? He wondered. The song ended had ended and his cigarette was still dangling from his lips unlit when he realized he was staring – too long. That even by his standards, wouldn't be deemed appropriate.

"Hey, you gonna use that?" Charlie pointed at the lighter still in Bill's hands, pulling his gaze away. He quickly lit his cigarette and passed the zippo over.

"You know the deal with her?" Bill quietly asked as he pointed behind him with his thumb.

Charlie peered over. "Who the blonde?"

"No the brunette, long hair."

"The one that looks like she's on the verge of tears?" Johnson said overhearing their conversation.

"Uh yeah. Is she okay," Bill asked.

"Her brother got shipped out last week. She's been a bit of a mess over it," he shrugged.

"Oh that's right," Charlie said. "Her brother's Marrow."

"Yup. Don't know why she's so upset it's not like she's got to dodge Cong bullets."

"Oh shit," Charlie quickly looked away from peering. "Don't look now, she's heading this way."

Bill felt a tap on his shoulder sending an icy chill up his spine that shattered his frozen state. "'Scuse me." He heard. He slowly looked over and then trailed his eyes all the way down to meet her eyes. He had to be more than a foot taller. She was even more beautiful close-up, heavenly with a bit of an edge which made his breath hitch.

"Yes?" He was able to muster.

"I'm just trying to grab a beer in the fridge, behind you," she pointed out.

"Oh! Right," he stepped aside and watched her bend down, her long hair sweeping to the side revealing the bareback of her white halter top. He felt his cheeks go hot noticing just a sliver of bare side boob. She turned her head, stretching her arm out towards him with a cold beer in hand.

"Need one?" She said with a slightly knowing smirk.

"Thanks," he said taking up her offer. He was thinking a mile a minute, how was he going to make this girl his? Which seemed outrageous to him, he didn't even know her at all he just knew there was a reason he ended up here in a crusty garage party with her. It couldn't have been just a coincidence. Just as she was about to pass him to go back to her part of the party he stopped her. "Wait," he said reaching for her unopened beer and with a slender finger popped that tab open for her.

"Thanks," she smiled at him. "You got another one of those?" She pointed at the cigarette perched on his lips.

Bill frantically searched the insides of his new denim jacket for his pack when he remembered it was in his back jean pocket. He gave her an embarrassed smirk as he handed her a Winston King. She put it to her lips expecting a lighter but instead he took his own cigarette, using the glowing hot ember to light hers. Looking up at him she watched as he nervously did it with a slight tremble in his hand, it was endearing and suave too. She took a drag and blew the smoke away from them yet never taking her gaze off him.

"What's your name?" She tilted her head.

"Bill. And yours? May I ask?"

"Francis."

"Beautiful," he complimented.

"Please. It was my great grans name. But it works I guess," she shrugged. "I go by Frankie mostly."

And from then history began to write itself. They talked for hours about everything and anything, late into the night while most of the party had left and some were crashed out drunk on the dingy couch. Joe and Charlie were chatting with some girls, hoping to get lucky for good time's sake. Bill and his beauty were drinking the last beers in the fridge, both good and buzzed, and laughing together in the little bubble they created for themselves.

"You know," she leaned into him, "you've got the prettiest eyes I've ever seen. So green," she said a bit slurred at the end.

Bill chuckled. "You've got to be the most beautiful girl I've ever seen," he admitted. "I saw you at the protest earlier."

"Oh, so you stalked me here?" She joked. "Did you see my 'fuck Nixon' sign? I've got it over there." She hopped off the bar stool to grab her sign behind the couch. She held it up above her head and marched around in a small circle. "Hey, hey! LBJ! How many kids you gonna kill today!?" She chanted earning a laugh from Bill. She came back to sit with him. "Stupid bastard was in town today, can you believe it?" She shook her head.

"It's all bullshit, right," he said before drinking the last of his beer.

"But isn't it though? Surprised you were at the march you don't really strike me as the type."

"Why not?"

"Well," she lightly shrugged, "you're a bit clean cut."

"Callin' me a square?" He lightly laughed.

"No, I swear. I don't mean it like that," she said taking it back, not wanting to offend this amazing man she just met. "It's just you've got your hair short and nice, clean face, black turtleneck," she curled her finger around the collar, popping it playfully. "It looks great on you, though."

"I'll take that as a compliment. And to be fair, that was my first protest. When did you start doing it?"

"Since last year. My brother took me to a small protest when the feds killed Fred Hampton. It turned into this massive thing. He ended up getting arrest and I had to wait outside the jail until he got out. It was a big mess. But I haven't stopped yet. Especially now since my brother's in Vietnam," she frowned.

"Sorry. I kinda know the feeling? My two best friends growing up are leaving in a few days," he said sharing her pain. "Have you been arrested?" He figured changing the subject was best.

"Not yet," she smirked devilishly. He felt his heart flutter from it. Could one fall this hard in love, this fast? He thought. Her attention was caught by the next song playing over the radio. "Oh, I love this song! Have you heard it?"

"Smokey Robinson?"

"Yes!"

Of course, he knew the song, Ooh Baby Baby, but in her tipsy state, it must have felt like she was the only one that knew about it at that moment. She began to sing it to herself as she swayed in her seat. Bill stood up and held his hand out, taking full advantage of the moment.

"Let's dance." He said pulling her to her feet and then wrapped a hand around her waist holding her close as he led. She rested her head on his chest and he could faintly hear her still singing along. He spun her, making her giggle in glee. He didn't know what came over him. Was it the song?  The alcohol? Fate? Or the beautiful girl he saw by chance now in his arms? Maybe all of it? He couldn't help himself, he leaned down to meet her lips and kissed her. And he knew right then he never wanted to be anywhere without her. ~~~

Bill's thoughts were interrupted when he heard the truck stuttering bringing him back to the present. He pumped the gas pedal just so he could keep it chugging long enough before having to pull off on the shoulder of the road.

"Shit!" He slammed the dashboard with his hand.

His wife jolted up from the noise looking around confused. "Is it the fuzz?" She said alarmed.

"No fuzz..." he huffed, "the fuckin' truck again," he got out slamming the door angrily.

Not wanting to be in his way and nag him with questions she stayed in the car for a while as he fiddled with the truck engine again. She had been nauseous since she abruptly woke. Craning her head out the window for air she saw a little drug store up the road in walking distance.

"I'll get it to work again. We won't be late," Bill said to her as she came around the truck.

"I was just going to tell you I'm getting a pop," she pointed down the road.

Bill glanced behind him. "Oh. Be careful. Stay on the grass," he said concentrating the engine again.

"Need anything?"

"Nah. Just need to focus," he said unscrewing something. "Frankie, baby," he stopped what he was doing realizing he was being a bit rude by ignoring her and kissed her before she went on her way. "And stay on the grass!" He reminded her again. "People drive like fucking assholes around here," he muttered, essentially to only himself as he poked around at different hoses.

Once in the drug store, she immediately went to the bathroom to vomit what little she had in her stomach. She cleaned herself up, grabbed a can of ice-cold 7Up, laid 15 cents on the counter and walked out drinking it wanting to get out from the clerks' suspicious gaze. Must have looked really weird when she ran inside. She couldn't wait until the morning sickness spells were over. She lingered by the storefront sipping her pop to her settle her stomach. She looked down the road where Bill was in perfect sight, diligently working on the truck. Suddenly, she began feeling bad for not tell him that she was pregnant yet. She was going to, it'll get harder to conceal later, but she knew as soon as she told him there wouldn't be any more traveling, no more protests. It's what they loved to do. To be vagabonds, them against the world, fighting for the greater good. And she hoped, god she dearly hoped, the world will be good enough for their baby and that their efforts weren't in vain.

On her walk back to the truck, Bill was in the driver's seat about to test his efforts. "Maybe we can thumb it? Someone's gotta be headed that way?" She suggested.

"Hold on," he turned the key in the ignition and the engine roared to life again. "Yes, baby!" He patted the dashboard. "Quick, get the hood down," he told his wife, "we're not too far!"

His wife happily hopped in the truck ready to fight the good fight with the people. She reached to turn volume dial on the radio to listen to Time of the Season by The Zombies but it was quickly interrupted by a news bulletin.

"Sorry to interrupt this radio broadcast but now a message from President Richard Nixon."

"Ugh," she rolled her eyes, "just turn it down." She was about to turn the dial herself but Bill grabbed her hand, stopping her from doing so.

"Shh, wait," he said.

"We today," Nixon spoke, "January 23, 1973, have concluded in agreement to end the war and bring peace with honor in Vietnam."

"What!?" She nearly yelled.

"It's over!? It's over babe!" Bill cheered, kissing the back of her hand. "Straight out of that rat bastards mouth!" He laughed.

She leaned back into her seat, in shock, and in sadness. Thinking of her brother, how he never made it to this day. Bill sensed where her thoughts were because he too began to think of Joe and Charlie. Charlie didn't make it either and Joe came back literally half a man losing both his legs. He laced his fingers in hers.

"I know love. But Jimmy and Charlie, you know they're cheering where ever they're at now. We did it, it worked."

She nodded. "Yeah..." she said coming out of her funk. "All the times we marched in the heat, in the rain, the blistered feet, bailing me out of jail. We did it. We're not going to a protest anymore we're going to a party."

"Exactly! We won this fight and now we keep going on for civil rights as we have been. Cause if it works, equality's gonna work!" Bill said excitedly feeling hopeful for the future. His wife listened to him preaching on, feeling proud and adoring him. It was such a contrast to the man she first met, he was a bit square then. But that clean cut square, now with his pushed back, messy shag hair and mustache, was going to be the father of her baby.

Sure enough, they arrived to a massive block party after hearing the good news. People cheered and danced in the streets of Berkeley. She relished in it, savoring it before she had to tell Bill she was pregnant. He wanted to keep going to protests to fight and God knew she wanted to, too. Maybe she could convince him to do sit-ins? Or maybe they could bring water coolers and sit in the truck bed, a new baby on her lap, passing out water to marchers? Something. She didn't want to leave it all behind.

They went off to the side of the celebration sitting along the curb having their lunch. They ended up sharing it with others, they didn't mind at all. They stayed late speaking with other activist and sharing the victory and left exhausted from the festivities at Berkeley. On the way home, she slept she couldn't help it, it seemed as if she was always tired lately. Before leaving a guy they met at Berkeley offered to take a look at their truck and like a godsend had an extra part for their issues. Bill drove confident they were making a straight shot home this time.

She woke up near home. Immediately, her mind went back to the baby. She had to tell him, her conscience was nagging her to. "Bill..." she began.

"You can sleep," he rubbed her arm, "I'll carry you in. You've been sleepy lately, huh?"

"Yeah..."

Bill turned the corner pulling up to their little humble one-bedroom rental. "Don't get out, yet. I'll open your door," he said to her.

"Wait." She said causing him to pause. He didn't like the weariness in her voice.

"Is everything alright?"

"Yeah."

"Then what is it?"

"I just want to tell you that, I love you," she chickened out at the last second.

Bill lightly chuckled. "Well, I love you too baby... Is that all?" He sensed it wasn't with how she was fidgeting with her hands. If her hair wasn't tied up she'd be running her fingers through the ends of it, it was her usual nervous tick.

Her conscious was yelling at her at this point and having backed herself into a corner now she blurted it out. "I'm pregnant." Bill sat taken aback. "I'm having a baby," she said now feeling better know that he knew. A weight lifted.

"Really? A baby?" He sighed it out so sweetly. "A baby," tears brewed but he blinked them away.

"You're not upset?" She bit her lip.

"No never. I'm the happiest man in the world right now. Why would you think that?"

"Because we won't be traveling anymore and marching..."

"It'll only be for a little while. And we can stay here until the baby comes or we'll leave if that's what you want? Or we can find something better, we have time."

She nodded, tears falling from her eyes, feeling grateful for the man she fell in love with. A man who from the very beginning jumped in to change the world with her without an ounce of hesitation. A man she was finally going to have a child with.

"Baby, don't cry," he held onto her as she cried on his chest. "It's us against the world. We're gonna make it work, okay? I promise. You make me so incredibly happy, whatever we end up doing, we're free. With you I'm free."

"I love you," she was able to choke out.

Bill laughed. He was going to be a dad. His heart couldn't have been fuller. "Today, was a good day, right? Despite the truck," he said trying to cheer her up. "Baby, you're having a baby!" He finally got a laugh from her. "And they'll come to rallies with us. On top of my shoulders with a little 'fuck Nixon' sign in their little hands, huh?" He kissed her. "We gotta make that happen."

FIN

[omgnsfwisnsfw-blog]

NSFW #02: For Fun!

“Say Hey, EWC Faithful! We’re here with you at the lovely Crystal campground in the majestic Ouachita National Forest in Arkansas.” “We’re going camping, and you’re going to watch.” Indeed, NSFW was camping. A large two person tent was set up and just visible to the left, and framed right in the center of the shot were Bishop Church and Mike McGuire, sitting across from one another beside a large, cheerily crackling campfire. The evidence of their dinner sits atop a small cooler: hot dogs, tofu dogs, stadium mustard, ketchup, buns. Chocolate and marshmallows for s’mores. The night sky is star-flecked through the towering trees, and in the background are the sounds of rustling leaves and the babble of a nearby but unseen creek. It was a good campsite. This had been a good trip so far in general, marked by a good beginning: a Fourth of July party held at the magnificent estate of their good friend (and as far as they were concerned, the heir apparent to the EWC Undisputed Championship) Natalie Young. There had been a moment that, while perhaps not exactly pleasant, had lent some serious emotional gravity between the three of them, and though the unpleasantness had dissipated, the strengthened bond hadn’t. After the evening’s festivities they’d been wished a safe trip and, much to Mike’s delight, she got a kiss goodbye that’d set her in an outright giggly mood for hours afterward. Mike pulled a speared marshmallow away from the fire, sandwiching it between two graham crackers with a piece of Hershey bar before taking a bite. Bishop held a small assortment of notecards, and Mike had some of her own sitting on the log beside her. “As you can see, our efforts to save some cash on this cross-country roadtrip we’re doing have gone critical mass. We are Now Sleeping in the Fucking Woods. But since we’re camping… you wanna hear a scary story?” She leaned forward, her face illuminated by the flames in an eerie manner. “This is a story of a man. A man who surrounded himself with people he called his friends. But little did he know that these people were not what they seemed. They were… FUUUUUCKING HYYYPOCRIIIIIIIIITES.” Raising her arms up, she wiggled her fingers to convey spookiness. “Our story begins on a most jingoistic of evenings and our hero had just introduced a most marvelous of notions. He would captain a squad of five like individuals. They would bring forth a new era.” John looked down at the first card in his hand and read it aloud: “This is not a Revolution. We are not taking some grand stance against corruption or apathy or any other "cause". This is not about The Future. This is about right now. This is about bringing some fun back to the EWC. Too many competitors are wound up tighter than the blunts Smokey Jones rolls.” He tossed the first card into the fire. “Only it turns out, this little newly formed group of ragtag misfits, Freaks and Geeks, if’n you will, has a really fuckin’ interesting idea on what constitutes ‘fun’. And just to prove that we ain’t just spinnin’ this tale out of our asses, we did our homework. And we took fuckin’ notes. Let’s start with everybody’s favorite stoner, shall we? Smokey Fuckin’ Jones.” She brushed the graham cracker crumbs off her hands and picked up the first card off her small stack. “James Larson, you carry all the tools for success, but have done nothing more than play games with the likes of it. I say, you sacrifice yourself one last time. Sacrifice yourself to me in the middle of the ring and lie down on the mat for the three count and I will take you back to the top of your game.” She looked at the camera with a slightly tilted head, lips twisting into an inquisitive frown. “Let me preface this with saying I don’t mind a bit of the wacky tobaccy now and then. But I, no sane person, really, goes off and demands human fuckin’ sacrifice or whatever in the name of legalizing it.” Following her partner’s lead, she pitched the card into the fire before picking the next one up, holding onto it for the time being. “Now. I don’t think Cletus literally means human sacrifice. But in nearly every one of his bouts, he has made the ultimatum that if you don’t join him in The Promised Land, he’ll make sure you regret it.” “Y’know, for fun!” “Anyway, I’ve already spoken at length about Orianna Johnson. She is spry and cheery. She is only eighteen-years-old. Look at the jubilation she expresses in her every word. Happy statements to Lavender like:” Next card. “You’re about as sharp as the leading edge of a bowling ball aren’t you?” “Which is funny considering just weeks prior she stated:” "With the admiration of many, you've gained mine as well, and my respect, Lavender. You'll never hear me bragging about how I can go out in the sunlight and not be afraid. I won't rub that in your face like others have. You may not realize it, but you've won far more in life than your win/loss record in the ring says.” Whoosh. Into the flames. “A little condescending. We all have some quotient of snark these days. But Mike, there’s just something strange about this.” “You’re right, partner. I mean, I’ve seen that promo and rewatched it a couple fuckin’ times because it was so goddamn weird. She says somethin’ about the well deserved admiration of the people or some shit like that, and then, boom. She’s talking about something else out of the blue, in a different position than she was a second ago.” “Maybe she flubbed. When we started this whole ordeal, I certainly didn’t feel comfortable with all of this. Still makes me tense but I can deal with it. But yes, maybe it’s a promo cut together with the best takes. Or maybe…” “...given Little Miss Teen EWC’s track record on talking shit, she said something so fuckin’ untoward that even she couldn’t leave it in. Cuz if she did? Everybody’d know just what an ugly, rotten, two-faced little snake that girl is. And we can’t have that. She’s just a CHILD, right? Kids will be kids.” “Youth isn’t an excuse for being needlessly cruel. Although, this is just speculation. But we’ve got plenty of tape of how she views those of a lower station than her. Orianna Johnson: Dehumanizing others by referring to them as ‘it’ and the destruction and theft of private property.” “Y’know, for fun!” She looked down at the card she’d picked up, pursing her lips a bit. “Now, this one seems like a breath of fresh fuckin’ air, especially comin’ after the lovely Miss Johnson. Steve Barnes. Superhero. Would be fuckin’ bully killer. I quote.” “I am sick and tired of men like you in this business. They are everywhere, thinking they can do whatever they want, to whoever they want, whenever they want. Today that stops. Men like you are nothing more than schoolyard bullies; and I hate bullies. So, from now on, wherever there are men like you, I will be there. You want to keep coming at people like you just did, I will be there to stop you. My name is Steve Barnes...and I AM IRON MAN!” “Nice words. Would be an admirable cause. Problem is? You really really suck at it. Let’s look at the night you said all this. Sure, you came out, beat up on Collateral Damage, and why wouldn’t you? Beating up Draco Lazarus is fucking fun. There are few faces as outright begging to be punched as his. But where the heck were you when Az was getting shredded by a bunch of masked fuckers? I don’t recall Tony Motherfucking Stark bein’ all selective about his superheroism. Matter of fact…” She winged the card into the fire Frisbee-style and folded her arms, smirking a little in spite of herself. “...we’re doing a better job than you. Not that we’re out looking to be the Avengers, heh, the Guardians actually suit us way better if we’d even want to go that route. But how many instances of fucking shenanigans have Draco and his cronies tried to pull lately? And who’s usually there to beat his ass? Here’s a hint: NOT YOU.” “You certainly had your chance last Monday. Twice. You had a chance to make another grand statement. Instead you opted to say nothing whatsoever. When Mucho Grande! were the victims of another assault from Collateral Damage, where were you, Iron Man? If you’re going to virtue signal, at least live up to it.” “So much for having no cause except for ZOMGOD FUN, huh?” She paused. “Hey Church. You got one more card there. That who I think it is?” “Yes.” John tapped his last index card against the palm of his hand. “A familiar adversary. Kendrick Kross. Mr. Lutter’s tag team partner in our upcoming encounter. Two men who prior to this alliance were embroiled in a heated contest. But now there are no agendas and it’s all about entertainment. What does Kross really think about that?” “I truly have a love and respect for Nostalgia, he is someone that I can call a friend, he has his faults just as everyone else, one of them is having to please his followers, the Sentimentalists...what is the point in that? Why should you fight and please the Sentimentalists when all that you should want and need to do is fight to please yourself, that’s one of his faults that will get him in trouble one day, and that day will be at Scars and Stripes.” John’s hands are now empty as the last card joined the rest. “His plans were put on ice that evening.” “Yeah, unfortunately, Cherry Garcia decided to give him the fuckin’ cold shoulder.” They glanced at each other for just a moment, giving simultaneous slight snickers at each other’s dreadful puns. “But it makes me think, Mike, our cool friend essentially said that he does this for himself. That his leader’s selflessness will cost him one day. When do you think that will happen? Maybe in Oakland?” Mike nodded grimly. “Yeah, I mean, calling your tag team partner naive and prone to fuckin’ backstabbing don’t exactly harbor an atmosphere of trust, and as we can tell you, if you don’t have trust in a tag team, you’re fucked with a capital F. U. But I guess in your book, maybe if he’s that gullible, he deserves it, right?” “Although, if I were Mr. Lutter, I wouldn’t take much of what Kross says at face value. I happen to remember that his evaluation of me was of little worth. He has the habit of deriding every individual he comes across with backhanded compliments that culminate in him trying to run them out of the business. Friend or foe.” “Condensation and backstabbing. Y’know, for fun!” Silence except the crackle of the flames. John raised a finger in the air as if to correct her but then he withdrew and nodded in agreement. “You know, you’re right. He would technically do that as he defrosted.” Mike blinked, and then broke into wild cackles, falling backwards off the log she was sitting on. “Ooof. I’m okay.” Picking herself up, she sits back down, brushes herself off, and clears her throat. “Anyways. You may notice by now that we are fresh outta notecards. That’s because, well, we ain’t got nothin’ bad to say about Nostalgia. He ain’t a hypocrite, far’s we’ve been able to see: he’s the only one in this whole bunch who actually believes in his own fuckin’ mission statement. You’re a good dude, Nos. You’re a lot of fun, and you’re real fuckin’ talented. But when we got your manager out of a spot, and you asked us to join your group? We said we’d get back to you… an’ now we’ve got our answer.” “No. Not because of you. I like you. Mike likes you. You’ve been nothing but kind to us. You’ve said complimentary things about us. Here’s the thing. If we joined you, we’d be quoting ourselves all through the night.” “We’re just not like you. We don’t fuckin’ fit in your box or anyone’s. Do we like to have fun? Fuck yeah we do. But unlike what you said you guys are about? We DO stand for something. We’ve said it all this time, and if you missed it you haven’t been fuckin’ paying attention. Nuh-uh. We’re not freaks, or geeks. We’re us, and ain’t nobody like us.” She paused a moment, a dreamy little smile flicking over her face. “Cept for maybe Miss Natalie. She’s so fuckin’ cool, and strong, and smart, and she’s got the prettiest fuckin’ eyes, and it was so awesome of her to invite us over for the Fourth for that party…” “I enjoyed Natalie’s pie.” Mike sat up, suddenly looking slightly irked. “Hey, I thought you liked MY pie best! I mean, you ate a bunch of it before we left the house. Eh, on the other hand, maybe it wasn’t that great after eight hours in the car.” John looked directly at the camera. His words would be followed by thousands of fingers clacking away at their keyboards. “You both had me licking the plate clean.” Mike’s hand flew to her mouth, perhaps stifling a snicker, and her emerald eyes glinted merrily in the firelight. “Anyway. Don’t take what we do to you personal, Nos, but take this right now as a warning that we’re givin’ you as friends. I’d keep an eye on the company you keep. They may be playin’ along with you just long enough to swipe something you have that they fuckin’ want.” “Storytime is over.” John stood up from the log. “Coming up, Freaks and Geeks makes their official debut in the tag team division against us. Mike, lots of folks around here like history. NSFW stands before you and well, we don’t have a shot at the tag team gold. You train and train in the hopes of reaching the top and sometimes it just doesn’t happen no matter how much you wanted it to. Tell them, Mike, what does NSFW do when we just fall short?” “We pick ourselves up, fuckin’ reload, study up, and do better next time. We don’t run to the back and sob like little eighteen year old girls. So we’re not number one contenders right now. We will be. We said we’re gonna be fuckin’ Tag Team Champions, and we stand by that, no matter how many times we gotta start over. And you guys’ll be as good a handhold in our climb back up the mountain as any.” “And believe me, we aren’t marginalizing you two. Champions. Main eventers. Bonafide megastars. And here we are: the upstarts. That’s the nature of this business. Not fun. Notsports entertainment. Ask the Madison brothers what sports entertainment has ever done for them.” Mike got to her feet as well, standing with her arms folded at her partner’s right hand.“That’s where fun gets you when you don’t stand for shit. Goofing around, smoking a bowl, and lighting farts on fire. Is that what you really fuckin’ want, Nos? Is that all you want out of this business? It’s clearly not or you wouldn’t have fuckin’ main evented the year’s biggest goddamn show.” “That goes for them all. Kendrick Kross said because I didn’t know why I was here that I’d wash out. You know what? You were right. But as I stand before you with my partner, you’rewrong.” John put an arm around Mike’s shoulders. His hand hesitated for just a moment before he rested it on her bare shoulder. “NSFW. That’s what matters. That’s our cause.” “We believe in us. And not just us. We believe in our friends. We believe in every fuckin’ person out there who takes those four letters to mean somethin’ besides ‘Not Safe For Work’. We fuckin’ stand by that and nothin’s gonna budge or break us. Can you Freaks and Geeks say the same? I don’t fuckin’ think you can. It’s right there in your motto. You don’t stand for nothin’ but fun, and we already pointed out where that fuckin’ leads.” There’s a pause then, almost if Mike was very reluctant to pull away. But she did (though she was almost too slow about it) and strode over to the tripod-mounted phone, bending down, almost staring right through it at the people she was addressing. “See you in Oakland. I hope for your sakes you find a better fucking conviction than ‘FOR FUN’ before then.” The camera clicked off. After that, John and Mike set to tidying up the campsite- dousing the fire with water from the creek and stirring up the ashes, putting the food away in the cooler and out of the reach of hungry, mischievous raccoons, throwing their garbage into a sealed trash can not far from their campsite. All that done, they tucked into their tent for the night. It was one of those comfortable silences, little sound but the chirp of insects and soft rushing of the creek, the tent illuminated by the dim light of John’s Kindle as he finished the chapter of The Natural he’d been in the middle of. Mike smiled. He’d really gotten the hang of using it, just as they knew he would. They could only imagine the size of his digital library. Their voice softly broke the silence. “Hey, Church. I’m glad we did this.” John clicked off his book for now. “Me too.” Perhaps a struggle, John rewinded past everything, through all of the ugliness and told them: “Used to go camping all the time. In better days.” “We can keep doing it, you know. If you want. I kinda like it better than seeing the same fuckin’ hotel room insides every night.” Mike propped their cheek in one hand, and as if realizing they forgot to take it off, removed their hat, setting it beside their pillow. “If you liked it before, I wanna give it back to you.” “Maybe it isn’t necessary.” John’s back was to them. He nestled his head into the pillow. His tone was drowsy. “Mike. I don’t know how to put this but I feel like I’ve come back to life. And all of this, this can be what I like now.” “Yeah… I can see what you mean.” They closed their eyes. There was something dancing on the tip of their tongue, but it was colliding and conflicting with other things, growing affections, even. Things they felt. Things they wanted to say. It was unlike them and they found it frustrating, stewing on their words this way, but they were unable to just spit it out. It tied itself in knots, rearranged itself, and finally came out in something both completely different and exactly the same as what they’d originally had in mind. “John? You… know I’d never hurt you ever, right? I’d drop fucking dead first.” Silence. “...Church?” No sound but a soft, easy, contented cadence of breathing. They smiled, shook their head, and bedded down as well. Maybe it was for the best. “G’night, buddy.”