#yeah that was kind of weird that he didn't know anything on account of apparently 'only' reading the parts of jttw with swk in them

[sketching-shark]

Unfortunately for plot-related convenience MK has been retconned into a fake fan (;_;)

I'm sorry but lmk not being clear on what MK knows about monkey king is sooo frustrating. He's some how his biggest fan who knows so much until the story requires him to have never known anything and it's like... why did you set him up as a monkey king fan it then just decide "actually he doesn't know shit" bro grew up to adulthood hearing stories and somehow knows Jack shit about the guy he supposedly fanboys over.

[almayver]

Did you listen to the space dome joined on twitter last night? https://x.com/Maileen_T/status/1855620833315889656

Anon. May your pillow be always cool and your favorite snack always near. Thank you for telling me, what! I'm actually not really on twitter, I mostly stalk the man's account, so there was a real chance I would have never found this.

This man. Lurks like no one in the world. He found this random space and was like yeah sure. Let me join. And he talked in English the whole time!!! He is so sweet and the people doing the space too, the entire first bit is basically him interviewing them. He was also drunk btw (He entered around 52:30 if anyone wants to listen)

Some highlights here because I want to save them for myself :

Under the cut because I went overboard as I often do but in my defense it was 2 hours and a half of yapping

Apparently, Thai people talk better English when they are drunk. Who knew.

They had a whole convo about the woes of translating and how bad Google Translate is, specially with Thai

He loves the show so much and is so thankful that people like it 🥺

He hopes to work with the guys again

Tay used to have a big difficulty with crying and during the PP workshops they worked through that because Peach was going to be crying a lot (And geez, did that fucking pay off, holy shit)

Someone finally asked why as a comedy it makes all of us cry so much and his answer was “Well you laugh until you cry 🥁”

Someone said that they were expecting a happy ending, and he said that the show being about ghosts, it is about goodbyes and learning how to live in the present and moving on

“Anything can happen in Peaceful Property, and some people might say it's a bad ending but to me, it's just life guys” (he fully did an evil laugh I swear)

“It's goodbye, technically a bad ending? Maybe it's like a happy goodbye”

It's a good ending For him

“Are you going to kill Home” “I have no comment”

Normally he doesn't use Twitter at all, but he knew how big Polca was and wanted to interact with everyone, but after this he is going to basically quit twitter because it's not that good for him. But he is going to miss everyone 🥺

This man threw Tay and New under the bus so hard:

He really said, “They always have like some kind of hot chemistry. I don't know why, but I can not like stop them” He wanted the show to be as relaxed and normal as possible and their chemistry is their normal 🤷🏽 what can you do.

He said to bring tissues (The fear is real)

They had to cut a lot of dialogue because of time, but also to make the pacing better. But also because some ideas were too expensive

The biggest change was of Home's car crash (he said the words break up, and they teased him hard):

“If you could change something in the series, would you, and what would it be?” “How about Peaceful Property but it is a BL” (This asshole)

But being serious, he wouldn't change anything. They went through a lot of drafts, and he really loves what they ended up with

“I feel like when I speak in English, I sound smart” (Same. You think I sound weird in English, I'm worse in Spanish for some reason)

He had a hard time with The Gifted for different reasons, and that's why he went to do advertisement and commercial work afterward. After some years he stopped and wondered why he was doing this, and he realized that what he really wants to be is a storyteller and tell stories that would touch people

They asked for funny moments and he said this:

He doesn't like seeing people cry. Ironic

The hardest one was with Tay, because he worried about him

There wasn't a lot of improv, but in episode 8 during the scene where Home is dying, he didn't want Tay to focus on the script. So he just gave him one line, and the others are all things that he came up with during the scene. For example, “Who is going to play with my sister” is such a good line that Tay came up with himself (What the fuck Tay)

His first impressions of them: Tay talked a lot and New focused on 20 things at the same time

But he has grown to see they care a lot, sometimes they don't show it but you feel it, and they are also really hardworking each in their own way

They also went to university at the same time, and they are very close in age (he is the same age as New) so they get along really well, and they aren't afraid of speaking up if they have something in their mind (or sometimes gossip really loudly next to him to subtly let him know)

Tay was really popular in Uni, apparently. Dome used to see the both of them around, but he never talked to them.

They said destiny brought Taynew to him, but he said it was more like karma

Him and Mook used to bet who was going to win when they were bickering (New usually won)

He apologized for the bts videos being too short because the shoot tended to be very chaotic and Dome asked the people in charge of filming the videos to give the actors a rest because he felt it was too overwhelming for them sometimes

During COVID he spent like 6 months where every afternoon he had a beer with Junior and played video games because they didn't have work

Peach was originally a bartender!

The family restaurant is in the map of properties, and he did a bit of promo for it:

He loves all the ghost backstories, but the one that hit him the most was Phoom and Vicha

He grew up watching a lot of American TV shows, like Glee (???? of all the shows. Ryan Murphy leave me the fuck alone challenge?)

Peaceful Property was the working title actually, and they came up with the thai name after. He came up with a bunch of names and the people at gmmtv picked the On sale one.

“Peaceful property is not that peaceful, right? But it's peaceful in its heart”

Home does come from his name

Peach-Home doing the dance in episode 7 was not originally in the script, but he threw it in there for the Polcas (thanks P'Dome) because he knew people would like to see them do a bit of traditional dance

He recommended Beef and Baby Reindeer and an anime called Made in Abyss

Oh he really liked Ted Lasso, it says that he felt like the show made him a better person for sure (I did suspect from his birthday message. A man of taste)

He has never had ghost experiences that he remembers, but he said that his mom was scared once because once when he was little he was playing with a “boy” and there was no one there

While filming episode 7, after Jan read the little poem thing the wind came out at the perfect moment, and they got the shot. He said it was a little bit of magic

If he did Beef with Thai actors he would cast Tay because when he is angry he is very charming. (Valid. But I think that is just him always)

When people got jokingly mad at him he thought people were seriously angry at him (Sorry P'Dome, i swear it's with love)

At first he didn't feel like Tay and Jan were that similar, but while filming the show he said that Jan is the only one that can listen to Tay talk nonstop without complaining, and that they tend to laugh at the same things and have the same smile (thanks P'Tha for making them siblings)

He is glad that the 4 of them got even closer and became a little family in real life too

THERE IS A FINAL VIDEO EDIT FROM DOME EVERYONE CHEER!!!!!! He already finished it!

(Also he picked Welcome to my life for the Home edit because it was one of his favorite songs when he was in school. 👉🏽 Emo kid fucking detected. We will not be discussing how that was also my favorite song when I entered high school)

And that was the rough “summary” of the space that no one asked for. If you read all that, have a cookie.

[boxxie-does-art]

OKAY SO I GOT SCAMMED :D

Well not really. Almost. I know I'm not so smart but there's a limit.

Earlier today I've received messages from an account who just started following me.

"Wow, what a big opportunity! Kinda weird though, let me just check their blog to see what they do"

Yeah, I found it weird for an artist, a professional especially to not have a bio, nor a profile picture.

I won't deny I investigated a bit and I found out the few art pieces they apparently claim as theirs aren't how surprising and I managed to find the true owner's instagram profile.

I tried messaging the artist on instagram to tell them about it and eventually ask if this is their account. The moment I'm writting this they still haven't answered but I don't think I need their confirmation to know that Tumblr user is an usurper.

I'm making a post about that story not only to report that one account to prevent them to act anymore but also to raise awarness about that kind of encounter online. I know that already most people are already sensitized to scams and stuff, but I know damn well that me from one or two years ago would have trusted that person. Since scamming young artists is actually pretty really current I thought I might share that story to recall the few who read these lines to be careful on internet. BUT worse again, that person is stealing another artist's work and claming them proudly as theirs, which I find so shameful and unfair for the owner.

If you guys could report them at least for stealing another's work that'd be great thank you (also reblog this so this post reaches more people).

The goal isn't to stop trusting in anyone, but whenever it happens, do check their profile and do a little research on their work.

As to me, that wouldn't surprise me if he already used my pictures to for whatever business he's having, I can't really do anything about it but please do warn me if you ever find my drawings on accounts I didn't mentionned in my bio. On second thought if this is my drawings they wanted they would have done it already, I don't know what they wanted from me nor how they would take it but whatever. Also I might have to go back and add watermarks on most of my drawings too.

That's all I had to say I guess, have a good day/night folks!

[puptoy]

My college roommate (20m) found out I (22m) have a small dick

Okay so. Throwaway account for this, obviously.

I'm good friends with my roommate - he's cool, we play Minecraft and watch video essays in bed together sometimes (we don't have a couch), nothing weird. I'm bi but I haven't been bringing anyone home, so it never came up.

I'm kind of androgynous. Not short, not tall. 5ft 9, slim build, kind of look like a skater.

Anyway. We like to roughhouse, so one day we were wrestling and he pins me down, my arms over my head. I'm not sure how I was trying to pin him but I ended up with his waist between my legs.

Instantlyhard.jpg

I tried to hold still, not shift around or touch him and make it his problem. Obviously. I didn't wanna make him uncomfortable. But I kept saying, dude, I give, I give.

Red alert. I am in my PJs and there is naughty but a single layer of flannel separating my slim jim from my roommate's hip... And scrutiny, apparently.

After I tell him no, I'm not going to admit Legolas is a Mary Sue or whatever silly shit we were pretending to argue about - he shifts and I'm done.

Anyway. I can tell when he feels it because he stiffens. Then relaxes, gives me this smug look. Shitshitshit. He asks if that's all I'm packing. I say yeah, shut up. He - and may I just say, what the hell - decides to drop trou and show me that he's bigger than me soft. At that point I was hoping he was a shower, not a grower, for the sake of my sanity.

I guess it was a "I'll show you mine if you show me yours" type deal. Or I just wanted to check for sure. But he said I should let him see, and I - I don't know what came over me.

(Did I mention he was hot? Deep voice, gorgeous face, tall, the body, everything. God really plays favorites.)

I manage to lift my hips enough to shimmy my PJ pants down, which does kind of grind me against hip and him into mine, and fuck, I'm... yeah. Smaller than average, sure. But my dick doesn't even look like it deserves the title "cock" now that I'm getting a better look at it next to his.

Seems like he enjoyed seeing me strip on command. His length is filling out, getting heavy and thick... I can't look away. He's easily twice my size. And it seems like we're both getting off on seeing it.

We didn't do anything that first time. He just laughed and said that's kinda gay, bro, before he finally let me up to go take a shower and pretend I'm not desperately masturbating.

And now I have a problem. He thinks its funny to tease me about my dick. But every time he does, I remember that, and I get turned on and flustered and forget what I'm doing. I think he's doing it on purpose, and it's getting worse.

The other day he called me "bitch boy" and I should feel disrespected, I know, but it made me hard.

What do I do, reddit?

[hockeychatstea]

Okay so I need to know if there's anyone else who had this experience because it's been almost two months since it happened and I'm still unsure of what to make of it. 🧐 Late Feb I was followed on IG from an account that was either a) a Jeremy Swayman catfish; b) some kind of weird honeypot to catch puck bunnies trying to score with him; or c) his actual finsta. The account itself was private and had the same bio as his main, the same profile pic as his cameo account, 5 posts, around 25 followers, and was following over 120 people.

I never sent it a follow request back because I didn't trust that it wasn't fake, but I regret not grabbing a screenshot of it at the time because it kept changing names every day so I wasn't able to track it down after it unfollowed me a couple days later, I assume for not responding. I don't really interact with anything hockey related on Insta besides following a handful of players and official accounts, there's nothing on my profile that indicates I'm a hockey or Bruins fan, and I don't follow any other Bruins fans so I have NO idea how this account even found me, even if it was a catfish. The only thing I can think of is that if it WAS actually him, because it happened the same week the team had the Western Canada road trip (the account followed me on Sunday and unfollowed on Tuesday) and I live in the PNW so it could have been from a location tag. 🤔 So the timeline would track but even then I was ??? why me I'm not a model or tall or blonde or anything like what a player would typically go for.

Obviously I'm just some random anon so I'm not gonna be offended if people take this with a grain of salt (man I REALLY should have taken a screenshot 😂) but I need to know if anyone else had this happen to them because the whole thing was weird as hell and I don't wanna be the only one. Because yeah, either Sway has an impersonator running around IG catfishing people, it's a honeypot to catch bunnies (which is insane person behaviour ngl, speaking as someone who is very obviously NOT a puck bunny), OR he's got a finsta that is kept meticulously hidden and he's apparently secretly into openly queer art girls with weird-colored hair. Who knows! 🤷‍♀️

That's crazy either way lol

[into-september]

Dub report: "Passion" and "Reunion"

PASSION

Adrien sighing Marinette's name is the least convincing ever, sorry Mr. Meiaren or the lady who did the instructions, dunno which one of you to blame

A+ on Marinette's VA with the meowing tho, sounds like a real cat

We've reached the era of "dad" (or "pappa", as it is). Probably would've been far creepier to listen to if I weren't used to it from other languages

Anyone else but Adrien Agreste would assume Gabenath is canon after that display with hands-with-rings-on-shoulders

This lot of episodes came out in jumbled order, but Adrien's non-existent transition from Ladybug to Marinette still pisses me off when I'm reminded about it

[insert your own rant about how Adrien's love for Ladybug was set up as something tremendously thematically apt while his feelings for Marinette by all accounts surfaced because apparently she's super special for *checks notes* being the only person to notice something about him that Kagami and Felix also noticed]

I'd be happy for Plagg trying to get him back on the LB track if it weren't for this being the stretch where we're suddenly insisting that it's ridiculous to date someone whose name you don't know, because apparently no-one in the writers' room realised that that is at least half the appeal

Both Adrien and Nathalie are indecisive about whether we're saying "forelska" or "forelsket". Checks out for Adrien but kind of weird hearing the former come out of Nathalie's mouth

I really do appreciate this highlighting of Adrien and Nathalie's relationship and I really do appreciate that this is the episode where Adrien gets to save her

Would've appreciated it more if either he got to do so as Cat Noir, or if we didn't have him go "I'm useless with you, Ladybug" and then prove him right by giving him a lucky charm that only served as an excuse for him to explain how he'd know Safari's identity

REUNION

Nothing much to say about dub performances I guess, buuuuut

did we really need to have Joan of Arc sound like a sixtysomething stuffy aunt. Out of any historical character who should not be giving off Margrethe Munthe vibes,

I appreciate their dedicated to language register though, which kind of makes me regret they couldn't justifiably do the tu-vous distinction with any contemporary characters (speaking of intranslatable jokes from previous episode)

Episode is still... fine on its own, disappointing for its contribution to the trend of "relevant conflict or new storylines? We don't need those" by which I mean

Keeping your identity secret because Hawkmoth can attack your family? I guess S3 Marinette was just a worrywart for no reason, it's always turned out fine for people who Gabriel and Lila and Nathalie haven't spent several episodes breaking down first

People who aren't Lila Rossi getting akumatised on purpose? nbd

Breaking out of an akumatisation? yeah, Alya and Nino and Chloé and Ladybug's mum aren't special, anyone could've done it if they weren't so weak

Hands up anyone who really thinks we'll see Adrien use his kwagatama anytime soon

Or him making anything out of the fact that Marinette was very obviously wearing one earlier that day when Ladybug first used hers

Not related to inconsistent storytelling but if it weren't for the fact that I know Thomas Astruc is on twitter, I'd seriously wonder if any of the writers have observed first hand how well "giving them the facts" work on deradicalising people who discovered the truth on 4chan

[holyshit]

Hi, so... If you excuse me, I would like an "am I the asshole" opinion about something and since I don't have anyone to talk about it, the cool tumblr account I follow seems to be a good option.

(You can ignore me ,and I totally understand if u don't wanna answer this, since is not related to any content on your blog.)

So here is a "quick" resume

I'm being best friend with this person for 5-6 years, and we were really close, just easy to be around each other and stuff...

But the thing is, in the last 3 years, if I'm not misunderstood my whole life, we've being getting a little bit more close than any type of friends. Thing that I only noticed very late bc we're both girls and I never had a best friend before, even though - i might mention - I'm on 20s and so is she.

But since I did notice that, I start to get feelings for her, imagining how good we could be as a couple since we're amazing as friends, and I was in my romance shows obsession time, so this might have helped.

I didn't tell her and obviously didn't do anything about it out of sheer self-preservation. What I did was start to be as she usually is with touching (I'm not this person im general, but she was like a exception) and hope for the best.

I think she noticed bc we get even more close without any real move, specially because I think we're both on the same page about don't mess up what we already had

I have to say before next paragraph, she knows me, I know her, we're both bi and loud about it, we have queer friends, this is not the case of closeting.

About a time ago, she started to take some steps back, but like without even pretending she wasn't, and I was ok w that bc she doesn't have to do nothing, no obligation of hugging me or keeping hanging out once a fortnight, but this really came out of nowhere.

I said she was acting weird so this make her noticed how abrupt was the change and back to normal a little. Not even a month after, she started dating this guy that also came out of nowhere, from her job and that according to her, already had a interest in her.

And now they are this cool couple that everyone says how good they look together, when she talks about him for me I can see she really likes him, and honestly I'm not gonna enter in the 'broken heart' topic because, yeah I was deep in love with her, but I cry about it with my therapist, I'm here for the things she can't say and apparently I have to figure it out by myself. So I acted normally, met the guy and stuff, he kind of got into the group and he is ok.

We don't hanging that much now because he takes priority - which, again, I understand. And also I got a promotion that makes me travel more than before. - But when we do happened to meet, she now acts a little bit like we used to do when both of us were on that bubble of illusion on a weird friendship that made me listen to Ed Sheeran, which is ridiculous because I swore I would never be this person. It makes me really sad how much I wanna be with her but I can't. She's always saying we should do the things we used to without be specific and seems to take a step back every time she noticed we are too close like she is in conflict or maybe I'm just crazy trying to see something for some hope

I got it, I lost my chance. But now we're getting on the end and I hope you have a answer for that bc I'm sad again resuming lots of years and feelings in some paragraphs

The problem is: she's having a birthday party that she's planning for ages since she consider 25 very important. And the guy was planing some romantic shit for her and asked for my help. I did help to prepare everything because I really have nothing against him and it's not his fault I'm dreaming about his girl or whatever, but I know exactly what he's gona do and I can not, I really can't

So I said to her I couldn't go to her birthday because I have a very important travel on work. I thought was a easy way because she knows how much I love this job. She asked me if I could have a talk with my boss, and make someone else to take my place, and I said I will try to reallocate things until the last minute. But I'm actually planing say on the last minute it wasn't possible and maybe get some ice cream on the day, since my fucked life sounds like it's being written by a 13yo

So, I'm a big asshole for lie to her not going to the birthday party to see her boyfriend proposal?

I really think I'm just trying not get more hurt but the days are passing and she's always asking me for updates about me going to the party and I'm feeling bad now. Idk

I don't wanna be the person who's in the corner with that kind of face or even drunk because I am, or used to be, her best friend, and we never fight or something, I should be happy for her on this day. But I also don't wanna be the person who skip this moment when and if I get over this feeling some day and regret for not be present on the birthday she's excited for since we've meet.

I'm just very stressed now and would help another point of view bc all my other friends would never believe I was talking about someone different and also I would mess the surprise that I think only me and the guy know about. So I hope this is not something super weird to sent, I'm really really sorry if is.

hi love! finally have a chance to write a proper response!

i'm sorry you're going through this, first of all :/. i feel like there are so often these kinds of "missed connection" type relationships for gay people either due to being in the closet/in denial about your sexuality (not in your case, just in general) and either not fully realizing your feelings for a friend or being too scared to act on them, and/or from these kinds of friendships that seem to be a little bit more than friends but there's still always the uncertainty of whether the other person just views it as a friendship and the fear of fucking up the friendship if you make an advance and they actually weren't into you... it's not as cut and dry than it often is with dudes where the flirting can be more obvious. i've definitely had multiple painful friendships in my teens where i was clearly in love with them but never made a move due to my being in denial, and it's sad to think about how those relationships really could have worked out if i didn't have that fear. and falling for a best friend is sadly a pain a lot of us have felt ksdjnsk it's fucking ROUGH and i'm sorry you have to work through that right now :(

so in my perspective based on what you’ve said, it does sound like she might have pulled back initially because she had already met that guy at work and was possibly in a talking phase with him and didn't want to be disrespectful, which implies that she did consider you guys' friendship to be veering into non-platonic territory and was happy with that until someone else came into the picture. although it’s painful to have missed a shot, it can also be comforting to know that she might have felt the same way and it wasn’t all in your mind, that there were feelings on both sides. and i can imagine her wanting to initiate it again and pulling back over and over might be from some kind of lack of closure in your friendship on that level... which is another aspect to these kind of more-than-friends-but-friends kind of relationships- there’s not often a big blow-up breakup of any sort, so you’re left with this feeling of what could have been that can stick in your brain for a long time. and it sucks because you can’t reasonably get the normal closure because it’s hard to really talk about when nothing officially happened, especially if the person is now in a relationship since you don’t want to throw a wrench in their relationship either.

i have mixed feelings about how you should handle the party situation... i do think going to the party, although painful, could help in getting closer to closure for you. you can’t pin all your hopes on them breaking up at some point and getting that chance to pursue something with her, as then you’ll be in misery for much longer than you deserve while playing a waiting game that might not result in anything, so i do think it’s important to your overall healing that you reach some form of closure, and seeing something like that could be a painful but needed step forward to make it seem more “real” in your mind to help you move on. but at the same time, if you think you’re not going to be able conceal your feelings about it and you think it might start a fight, it might not be worth it. in your situation i probably would be very tempted to skip it, especially because i wouldn’t want to put a cloud over a day i know is very important to her, although that could be the case whether you decide to go and end up getting upset, or if you don’t go, so it seems like a double-edged sword either way. i do think, in the longterm, the decision to go to the party would probably be better overall for the reasons i already said and because like you said, you might regret it in the future. but, if you do decide to skip the party because you don’t think you’ll be able to handle it (and i would totallyyyy understand if you did), i would suggest planning something special for you and her to do on a different day around the same time, as that is a good way to show that you care and that you recognize how important her 25th is to her.

sending you a massive hug!!! your pain will ease with time, i am sure of it, but i can’t imagine how awful you’re feeling right now and i sympathize with you greatly :(. i’ve been there, and it’s so so rough.

[thevoyageurmoteplass-writing]

I was restless. After everything that had happened, I’d expected to get a decent night's sleep; thought that learning to control fire and trying to save the city might actually have exhausted me. But apparently not. Even having gone out in the middle of the day to con a few people, in the hopes of feeling a little more like myself again, had done nothing to satisfy my need to do something. Perhaps it was the fact Cosmo hadn’t been there, instead he and Dart had been trying to come up with new and improved ways for our little group to be heroes. Jeff might have wanted to manipulate the hell out of us all, but he’d made a great choice in our little group.

With a groan, I finally threw the cover off and went to look at my spoils from the day. It wasn't much: a couple of ten pound notes, a club card for some supermarket or another, and a key that I don’t remember taking. Still, the motions of getting them had been what I needed; apparently, being a superhero was a rather lucrative business when Ano had figured out fake bank accounts and loads of other cunning things to protect our identities. A smile, that was all it had taken for some to let their guard down. I’d robbed them blind before actually asking anything, instead seeming way too excited about being in the city where those heroes had done that thing.

Heroes. The word still didn't sit quite right with me. I knew that I’d helped save the day, but I also felt a little like a circus monkey. Don’t get me wrong, those guys are perfect for a distraction, but I was suddenly very aware of what it felt like to be asked to do things again and again, just for the entertainment of a few people.

Without thinking I stuffed the things into the pocket of my jacket. If I wasn't going to get any sleep, I may as well make use of it.

I was dressed in less than five minutes, my thoughts already focused on what I was going to do. Or try to, the streets were dead. Despite there being a new kind of protection, people were still scared. Scared other bad people with powers might cause trouble and their heroes wouldn’t be around to protect them. Even heroes need their shuteye.

Yeah, not just the villains you need to watch out for, I thought, a small smile slipping easily onto my face.

'Hey!' a voice called, but I ignored it. “Hey” already sounded too cheerful to be anyone I knew or cared about. 'Willow!'

The use of my name froze me. I mentally tried to place the voice but got nowhere. Quick footsteps forced me into action though; I rounded to see the jogging figure approaching.

The person was a girl, probably a couple of years younger than me. Her hair seemed to bounce on her shoulders with each step she took, even as she slowed down slightly. There was a smile on her face that caused me to arch an irritable eyebrow.

'What'd you want?' I spat before the girl was too close.

She faltered momentarily, but didn't actually stop until she was a few paces away. I could already feel the heat on my hands, a comforting kind of protection whether I needed it or not.

'You found a key, didn't you?'

'I don't know -'

'It's OK,' the girl said hurriedly, 'I got one too. It's weird, but -'

'Is there a point?' I interrupted coolly.

The girl paused for a beat before chuckling, shaking her head ever so slightly. 'Sorry, sorry, I got excited,' she said, before sticking out her hand. 'I'm Ella, and that key...' She scrunched her face as her voice petered out.

My eyebrow arched further.

'Darius said this might be hard,' she murmured, before heaving a sigh. She slipped something carefully from her pocket.

Instantly, I was on edge. The heat of my hands intensified; I could see the faint orange glow that came before actual flames.

But the girl produced a key, one that looked exactly the same as the one in my own pocket. 'It takes you to a place where you can relax,' she explained, moving towards a shopfront.

I watched, unable to look away. This kid had stopped me, and now seemed to be going into a darkened shop with a key that I also had. I wasn't sure if she had the power to create keys to any door, if she was actually the owner's kid or something, or she was about to rob the place blind. It was that uncertainty that drew me closer to her, curious to how all this played out.

'Yours'll do the same,' Ella said, glancing back over her shoulder and shooting me a bright smile. 'Any door as long as it takes a key.'

I didn't have time to question it. Ella had already unlocked the door and opened it outwards.

'Welcome to The Voyageurs Möteplass,' Ella said brightly, stepping through the doorway.

After everything that had happened in recent months, I had hoped that nothing else could shock or, I had to begrudgingly admit, impress me. But I was proved wrong. Beyond the doorway life seemed to flourish, even though from the outside it had looked completely empty. People that looked like nothing I had seen before bustled around, chatting amicably, an air of almost bittersweet happiness tinged the whole thing. Ella's grin seemed to widen. She waved to people that passed, and they seemed to smile back even if they'd looked in thunderous moods beforehand.

'Are you stealing my lines, Ella?' a large man with amusement bright behind his eyes asked. There was something imposing and yet oddly comforting about him.

'Just testing it out, Darius,' Ella said brightly.

He chuckled jovially. 'I think young Badger was looking for you. Something about "The joke to end all jokes," I believe.'

Ella chuckled affectionately before turning back to me. 'I'll be seeing you,' she said, before hurrying away.

Part of me wanted to tell her to come back, to try and have at least some semblance of before this revelation beside me to help make sense of it, but she didn't. Instead, I turned quizzically to Darius.

'Why don't we have a drink, Willow.'

'How'd you know my name?' I asked carefully, once again feeling the protective heat of my power.

'When a hero -'

'I'm not a hero.'

Darius inclined his head slightly as way of an apology. 'This place is for adventure weary travellers to rest a while amongst their own. I could -'

'Is it magic?' I asked before I could stop myself.

A flicker of that bright smile. 'Yes, now, shall we close the door so as not to let the warm air out?'

I hovered for a moment, my toes on the threshold. Cosmo would have loved this, and he was going to be so pissed at me for more than one reason. But I was curious to see what other treasures were hidden beyond the doorway; who knew, there might have been some interesting pockets to pick.

So, ignoring my better judgement, I stepped into the café, and closed the door behind me.

[boop-le-snoot]

@buckyownsmylife hey babe! Remember that one time you threw that cool challenge? Here's my entry. Prepare to get absolutely ruined because daddy!Bruce is exactly that sort of man.

main masterlist ☀️ taglist

emotional support nerd

Your best friend's dad, Dr. Bruce Banner, is hotter than you thought he would be. 6k words, NSFW. Kind of Alt!Reader - she refers to herself as 'goth' in one instance. Tony Stark makes an appearance because God forbid I write a fanfic without him in it.

This is filthy pron, ft. age difference (reader is college aged) daddy kink, throat fucking, dirty talk, praise kink, cream pie, possessiveness, belly bulge and ending with a hint at a threesome. I really crammed all I could from Eyre's wheel in here, didn't I. Oh well.

"How much longer, dad?" Lyra's annoyed voice struck a chord within me. I tried to hide my snickering - unsuccessfully might I add - causing my best friend to shoot me a hurt look, equally fed up with me as she was fed up with her forgetful adopted father. "You know what, we'll take the subway."

Lyra's father's voice, both agitated and apologetic, reached my ears in bitten-off phrases as the traffic noises around us grew in volume, NYC rush hour rapidly approaching its peak.

With a sound huff, Lyra removed the phone from her ear, staring me down with the most amount of petulance I've ever seen on her usually reserved, placid face. "It's twenty more minutes. Apparently he's driving Tony's car," she offered in the way of explanation, like it actually did anything to better the cold, wet situation we found ourselves in. "Please, and I can't stress this enough, please don't be weird."

I felt a flood of amusement at Lyra's pleading tone. "Darling, if you wanted a normal friend, you should have looked elsewhere," I gestured to my outfit. I looked like a goth boy's wet dream: chunky platformed boots, fishnets, heavy eyeliner. Of course, all in black.

"You know what I mean," she whined, waving off my pointing hand and fixing me with a hard stare. "The least my dad needs is someone that is terrified of him just because sometimes he turns into a big green monkey. It's not as exciting as internet thinks, anyway," the last part of the sentence was mumbled but I heard it nonetheless as Lyra stared out into the traffic, clever eyes looking for a particular car model.

What Lyra didn't know was that I was not at all considering to be terrified by the man who dosed himself with radiation and developed an advanced version of split personality disorder. I could be intimidated by him, sure, because he was incredibly intelligent, a world class scientist with more PhDs than I had zeroes in my bank account, but even despite his green problem, Dr. Bruce Banner was about as far away from 'scary' as a man could be.

The few scarce pictures of him on the internet showed a short, stocky man with kind eyes and salt-and-pepper curls, always dressed in un-ironed, crumpled button-ups with dorky patterns. Looking at him, I mused that there was a high chance he spoke with a stutter and that fact amused me to no end. Jekyll and Hyde, alright.

Lyra was much the same way. Shy and reclusive, with curly brown hair and doe eyes, she spent a good chunk of her first semester in college being avoided by everybody because of her last name; I, on the other hand, avoided everyone out of habit, I'd never been a social butterfly, but the way people subtly made sure to exclude Lyra from all the activities filled me with quiet, seething rage, and I stepped over my general distaste of people and removed my bag from the seat next to me so Lyra could at least study in relative peace.

Yeah, yeah, you've heard it all, I'm sure. Weird goth chick adopts a socially awkward, shunned nerd and they become best friends forever. I had to admit that under the shy exterior, Lyra was smart, witty and even funny sometimes. She was willing to entertain my crude jokes without moaning, at least, and I was perfectly okay with listening to her rant about science every now and then.

Rain banged on the slanted roof of the café we were hiding in, the autumn wind howled, making both of us shiver at the prospect of having to go outside, even if it was for a short moment to run to Lyra's dad's car. The day had started out warm and sunny, but much like a badly calculated chemical formula, it all went downhill a split second after we had set out to leave campus.

"There he is," the grouch in Lyra's expression had me once again unsuccessfully attempting to conceal my snorting.

Nonetheless, I followed her out into the rain, struggling to keep up with the brisk running in my platformed shoes, unceremoniously crawling into the car behind her without sparing a glance at the driver in my eagerness to get out of the freezing downpour.

"Hi, dad," Lyra's tired voice spoke up at the same time as I angrily shook out my hair.

"I've just about McFuckin' had it with New York," I was afraid the dye in my hair would bleed out into my clothes, or even worse, the nice, cream-colored car seats.

"Hello, ladies," the voice that greeted us was low, gravelly and apologetic to boot.

My eyes shot up, meeting an expression full of surprise and amusement. I stared at the shockingly handsome face of Dr. Bruce Banner like a deer in the headlights.

The fine mimic wrinkles had stretched into a resemblance of a smile, soft, plush lips revealing a set of straight, white teeth. The five o'clock shadow framed his jaw, giving it a sharp, defined edge, his clever brown eyes slid down my form, faltering on the pentagram on my belt and my fishnet-covered legs, settling on my chunky boots before hastily snapping back up to my face.

"Dad, this is..." Lyra's voice was full of suspicious bewilderment as she attempted to dissipate the sudden awkwardness.

"Oh, yeah, I'm Dr. Bruce Banner, but you can call me Doc or Bruce," he cleared his throat, turning himself towards the windshield and starting up the car.

"Nice to meet you," I busied myself with putting away any stray hair just to occupy myself with something during the time I needed to recuperate from being just... Looked at by Lyra's dad.

It sounds ridiculous, I know, but I was so taken aback by his handsomeness and his aura of a gentle but powerful man that the ride to Stark tower, however swift, went on in slightly awkward silence. The streets outside were, thankfully, noisy, and the lack of an attempt to have a conversation could easily be attributed to Bruce's need to focus on the road, but Lyra's increasingly concerned looks did very little to settle the sudden racing of my heart.

"C'mon, I'll give you some sweats so you can let your..." Lyra's vague gesture towards my upper body disappeared behind her side of the door. "Hey, Tony," she suddenly interrupted her sentence, very obviously addressing another person who I managed to miss as Bruce parked in the spacious garage.

"I've been told you're finally bringing your friend, Green Pea," a voice I'd heard a thousand times on the TV poked fun at Lyra.

She bent down to retrieve her bag, shooting big eyes at me and mouthing an exaggerated "Sorry!"

Tony Stark looked about a week in debt on sleep, a contrast to the way he usually appeared in public. The exaggerated eyebrow raise made me shuffle awkwardly in my spot; the Led Zep tee caught my eyes as I lingered on it, aware of my own Mötorhead top on display. He noticed it too, causing his face leave the snide territory.

"Wow, I didn't expect kids these days to have any resemblance of taste in music but you've surprised me, Corpse Bride," he gave me a quiet wolf-whistle, watching me through lidded eyes.

I felt my eyebrow crawl upwards at his attitude but Bruce spoke up before I could say anything: "Tony, no," so firmly, I had to raise both of my eyebrows. I felt a smile tug at my lips, the situation strikingly familiar in it's essence. Like father, like daughter...

"No," Lyra's identical expression, fond and annoyed, topped up with an accusing finger pointed in my direction had everyone snorting a giggle at the situation.

"Lyra," I whined, just so I could coax her grin that she was very obviously trying to conceal. "See, I told you, every crazy genius needs their emotional support nerd," I fixed her with a pointed look.

She promptly grabbed me by the arm, leading all of us to the elevator as the two men behind us shared a hearty laugh at my well-timed joke. It was either that or I would have completely embarrassed myself by gaping and drooling over both THE Tony Stark and Lyra's father.

The rush didn't stop there. I was promptly and generously offered not only a spare pair of pants but also a whole room to stay in after an invitation to dinner I simply could not refuse. Dr. Banner firmly coaxed me into staying overnight with his pleading eyes and a hearty seasoning of guilt tripping, softly crooning how he simply could not let a young woman to wander the cold, rainy night in NYC alone.

Tony added something too, in a tone way too surefire and patronising. I guessed he noticed my eyes lingering on Dr. Banner, being a genius and all.

In a short amount of time, I found myself seated at a dinner table next to a happy, giggling Lyra who'd downed a glass of wine and was well into her second. I found it adorable how much of a lightweight she was; not hesitating in the slightest to point out that fact when she made hands for a pitcher of water.

Tony was the first one to snark back something vague about his college days and all the wild parties he used to throw, booing Bruce upon discovery that he, in fact, actually studied in college in favour of partaking in various illicit activities. That had both me and Tony giggling with Lyra promptly joining in, both of us losing it over the running joke or her being either a test tube baby or the result of immaculate conception.

Bruce's face blushed scarlet. He sputtered, a few stray drops of his lemonade landing on the (ironed!) collar of his purple shirt, cough disappearing in the wake of Tony's truly amused cackling. Dr. Banner was well on his way to either choke on his Lo Mein or turn green; thinking quickly, I decided to defuse a situation by sharing a harmless, funny story that happened to me as a freshman.

"I went on a date with this guy who said that music was the most important thing in his life, and I thought, wow, that's so beautiful!" I began my story over Lyra's incessant snickering. "So we had dinner and went back to his place because I'm a whore," the whole table erupted in laughter at my deadpan remark, Tony reaching over to give me a high five.

"And as we got there, he put on one of his demos which was just a bunch of sampled and remixed Guns'n'Roses songs, and I thought wow, that's gotta be one of the worst things I've ever heard," I pointedly looked away as Lyra's cackling grew in volume, having heard the same story several times by now and the outrage I expressed at the situation first hand.

"But instead of that I said, wow, that's so cool! Then we did the thing and his whole bedroom was covered in Axl Rose posters and I'm sure at some point Mr. Rose stared right up my asshole," there were tears streaming down Lyra's face as Tony flopped his upper body onto the table and Bruce convulsed helplessly in a silent fit of giggles. "And then I thought to myself: wow, I would have to pretend to like his music if I dated this guy and I just couldn't do that..." I breathed out, succumbing to the mirth at the dinner table. "It was good but not November Rain good, y'kno?"

Bruce snorted loudly, sliding down his chair with a hand over his face. The table shook with the force of Tony's cackling; I didn't see his expression but the howling, rasping noises sent me into another fit of laughter, right on par with Lyra.

"Is this..." Tony rapidly inhaled the much-needed oxygen. "Is this why you keep wincing whenever I play the 'Roses in the lab?" Tony wheezed and Lyra nodded.

"I just... I can picture it, and I-" she made a vague, encompassing gesture and a face.

"Please, don't," I urged with a snort. "There are better ways to get disappointed."

Dinner went on by smoothly after that, everybody happily making remarks on my dating fail, the topic of Lyra's birth and Tony's college shenanigans dismissed.

I caught Dr. Banner's pointed look as we finished our dessert - he was studying me, eyes searching for something that he very obviously wished was there. From the damp roots of my hair to the soft, cotton top clinging to my chest, I wasn't left unscrutinzed and unexamined. Like one of the many specimens he studied on a daily basis, Bruce lingered on the many characteristics that made me stand out in the grey crowd.

"Would you like to see the labs?" He asked, appearing behind me without a single sound.

The freshly cleaned dishes clattered in my arms. I'd almost dropped them, startled, but Bruce's hand landed on the top of the stack right before the top plate would have slipped off and shattered into pieces on the cold tile of his kitchen.

Blood rushed to my ears. "I'd love to," my brain had briefly returned to reality, the rush of meeting both Stark and Banner succumbing to logic and reason. My and his fields of study briefly overlapped, the question he posed was more than reasonable. In fact, many people would cheat, lie and steal to be in my position.

Bruce smiled, opening a cabinet and taking half of the dishes I was holding to stack them up in their proper place. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up, exposing wide, muscular forearms littered with dark, coarse hair.

I was sure my face was flaming. After waving off Lyra's attempts to put shoes on me and leaving her to watch her TV show, a wide, warm palm rested on the back of my waist, gently steering me towards the elevator.

I tried to keep my eyes off Bruce in the large mirror on the walls of the car as it swiftly moved down, scrutinizing my appearance instead. My throat bobbed, the elevator car suddenly too small and too hot.

His eyes left marks on me - invisible ones, the kind that I knew were there just from the scorching heat sizzling on my skin.

There was a certain je ne sais quoi about him. Perhaps, it was in the way he was acting - a polar opposite of what I'd had expected, Dr. Bruce Banner possessed a quiet confidence and his patience appeared to be endless, heartily doused with an appreciation for his closest ones. The way his eyes lit up in response to people smiling around the dinner table was hard to miss.

When Bruce spoke about his research - whatever wasn't classified, anyway - the spark expanded into a mischievous fire. I could hardly understand the nuances in his work, scratch that- I could not understand a single word he was saying, at all. The individual syllables registered as they should, but my traitorous brain could only focus on the way he licked his lips in between quickly inhaled breaths.

"You're not... Following, are you?" The corner of his mouth lifted upwards, clever brown eyes fixed on my face.

God, I hoped I wasn't drooling. But to deny the obvious would have been a stretch. "No, not really," I swallowed, willing my eyes to lift from the large veins on the hand that was pointing at a set of equations. Reasonably good at math any day, they looked like the scribbles of a madman to me at the time.

Dr. Banner sighed, letting silence creep among the whirring machinery in the lab for a brief moment. "I don't scare you?" He removed his glasses, cleaning them with the corner of his shirt.

The question reeked of self-doubt and, perhaps, insecurity. "No," I answered simply, not giving him the slightest chance to find doubt in my words. I was barely holding my voice from shaking, afraid he'd misunderstand my reaction to the sudden change in atmosphere.

He was closer to me than I recalled. My hip was almost brushing his, the bulk of his shoulder millimeters from touching against my bare skin, the smell of something herbal, like tea, and sharp chemicals clouding my senses. It was such a contrasting experience.

Bruce turned to me, an expression between hunger and regret forcing me to shiver and look him straight in the eye. A hand landed on my waist, holding me in place with gentle firmness. "I'm a monster, I could hurt you," he whispered, leaning into me like a touch starved kitten. The man screamed contradiction. "We shouldn't."

Vivid images of the Hulk and the rampages years prior flashed through my mind; the rubble, the collateral damage in the form of many lives. I barely remembered it, having been too little to really understand what was going on. One thing, though, I knew for sure: ever since the world became aware of Lyra's existence, there had been no incidents. Sure, the Hulk still appeared when there was a threat, but there were no documented incidents of the green creature running amok, accidentally.

"You won't hurt me," I spoke with conviction. Perhaps, I was bluffing just slightly but I wouldn't lie like that to myself. The variable, the... Twelve or so percent chance of things going... Awry, it made a small, malicious worm inside of me rejoice and fill my limbs with familiar adrenalised yearning. "You're not a monster. Far from it, actually," I used the hand that was not supporting me against the desk to gently cradle the side of his face, letting my fingertips brush over the rough five o'clock shadow on his cheek.

Bruce emitted a sound somewhere between an agitated grown and a pleading whine, sagging with the sound exhale, pressing himself flush with my chest. His face slipped from my palm, the warm tip of his nose running a steady line up my neck, sending goosebumps running wildly down my back as his hot breath tickled the arch of my throat.

"Baby," the nickname punched a stuttered gasp out of me with the intensity contained in just that one word. "I've been hearing all these amazing things about you," his voice dropped, low baritone rumbling straight into my ear. "I won't be able to hold back. I'll want you all to myself," his bicep flexed under my hand.

My knees would have bucked if I wasn't grasping onto Bruce for dear life after those words. I had some sense of personal pride in me, so while my body was an easy, traitorous thing, my mind was more than eager to participate in this game, to ping pong a little bit before... "Yeah? What things?" I breathed.

Teeth briefly closed around my tender skin, nipping for just a second. "You're kind, beautiful," his hand took a steadfast hold on the back of my neck, exposing my throat to his mouth. More skin to mark, more time to whisper. "Intelligent, bright and clever," the more he spoke, the fiercer he became. Bruce's grasp tightened until I was pliant in it, willingly following his silent commands. "A bit of a pain in the ass," a healthy dose of humour was added into the mix as my ass was roughly grabbed, our fronts pressed together at his insistence.

"That sounds about right," I didn't resist the sudden urge to snark, thoughts lazily floating in my head, like clouds on a bright sunny day, fleeting and sparse. None of them caught on. I was focused on feeling the need, on my need to feel.

A sharp smack landed on the plump of my ass, the sound resonating in the eerily quiet lab. The sounds of machinery had dulled at some point, leaving just the two of us panting our lust into each other's space. "I know you can be a good girl. Will you, princess?" His fingertips dug into my flesh, surpassing the soft sweatpants as if they weren't even there.

I could only nod, dumbly, overcome by the sudden rush of blood to my body. The life coarsing through me sang, demanding a release of the pent-up tension.

"What's that?" Bruce removed himself from my neck, catching my unfocused eyes with a crooked smirk on his lips.

"Yes," I swallowed, breathing through my mouth.

"Mmm," he hummed, running both hands over my sides, over the frayed edges of my Mötorhead top. He admired it, briefly, setting his eyes on the band logo that was right over my breasts. Having decided something to himself, Bruce promptly removed it, lifting it over my head with ease and leaving it right on the science lab table.

Taking hold of my hand, he walked over to a hidden set of sliding doors that revealed a rather large, frequently used bed, shutting them just as I walked in, wearing only my bra and borrowed sweats. My back was pressed to the door in mere seconds, hot palms chasing away the chill of the lab as Bruce slotted his lips over mine.

He tasted like something I've never had before. His lips - so plush and supple, took hold of the kiss with practiced gusto, sucking me in without a chance or the desire to escape. I drank from him, sucked on the bottom lip as his tongue explored my mouth, danced with mine.

The room was spinning, the ringing in my ears growing in volume. I was only partly aware of the sensation of sliding down the wall; our knees thudded on the carpeted floor simultaneously, heavy breathing the only noise I could distinguish.

"Breathe, baby, that's it," Bruce coaxed, gently stroking my nape. The soft cotton of his shirt crumpled under my fingers where I held onto him, desperately searching something to ground myself with.

The buckle of his belt clattered and then clinked again as he wrapped the worn leather around my wrists, bringing them together in front of my chest. I exhaled sharply at the intimate gesture, a whine bubbling up from my chest when Bruce used a single fingertip to raise my chin.

My eyes met his; a brown iris tinged with the faintest of green around the outer edge. "This okay, princess?" He sought my face for confirmation, for agreement, for anything.

I nodded, stuttering mid-gesture, remembering our previous interaction. My mouth did not want to cooperate but I forced it to, even if it came out as little more than a pitiful mewl. "Yes, daddy," the word, sweet and sticky like fruit syrup, poured from my lips.

My eyes slid shut as my conscience - or was it common sense? - took hold of the situation. I was on my knees in front of my best friends dad, a virtual stranger, and I'd just-

Bruce's soft chuckle stopped the negative spiral of my thoughts. "That's my girl," he sounded a tad more breathless now, a hairliner in his perfect façade of self-control. As if he'd sensed my indecisiveness, he tugged on the makeshift restraints, pulling me closer, closer and into his lap.

A warm, solid chest with a healthy amount of fluff greeted me. Bruce let my lax, pliant body fall into his arms, catching me effortlessly and bringing my face to his lips. "You have nothing to be ashamed of, you're my good girl," he peppered soft kisses all over my flaming cheeks, my twitching nose, my fluttering lashes.

"Please," I begged, shame giving way to the flood of arousal that seemingly hit me all at once. I was aware of the dampness collecting in my panties, the stiffness of my limbs from holding back the ravenous desire to paw at Bruce like a wild animal. "Please, daddy..."

"I know, I know, baby girl," he soothed, not stopping his tender assault on my face. "Daddy will make it all better. I know just what you need," Bruce finally pulled away. I heard the sound of him undoing his zipper and then the awkward shuffle of him shucking off his pants.

Somewhere in between of all that, he'd ended up sitting down on the bed, wearing only his boxers, his shirt hanging open. The red crawled down his chest, partially masked by the coarse salt and pepper hair; his lips were cherry red and his hair was sticking out in odd directions. Bruce looked sinful.

My eyes inadvertently landed on the impressive bulge in his boxers; in response to my widened eyes, he reached out for it, stroking the outline of his thick cock through his boxers. "Like what you see, baby?"

"Yeah," My mouth watered.

"Baby wants a fat cock?" He teased, sounding like he knew exactly what he was doing, testing my self-control like that. With a flick of his wrist, it sprang free, slapping against his tummy, coating the fine hairs with drops of clear, musky fluid.

I swallowed, feeling the taste of him from afar and yearning for more where I was parked between his spread legs.

In a gesture almost loving, he tugged on the belt still wrapped around my wrists, bringing my face to his leaking shaft and my hands to the base of it, letting me feel the weight of his balls in them. The cock throbbed, neglected, weighed down by the heaviness of his full balls.

"Go ahead, baby, suck my cock," the encouragement came with a gentle push to my head.

I obediently followed, wrapping my lips around the pink, moist crown of it, a hum beginning in the back of my throat. My God, Bruce tasted heavenly... I whirled and slipped my tongue a around his head, I dipped into the slit to drink the nectar right from the tap, idly coming to awareness of the broken, choked moans coming from the man above me.

Raising my head got me a view of his chin; head thrown back, the lax O of his mouth glistened in the meager light. My eyes slid lower, to the flex of his abs. Bruce fought hard to stay still. The desire consumed me, a sudden rush of power at having Dr. Bruce Banner's cock in my mouth and the man at my mercy; I inhaled, sliding my mouth further and further down his throbbing length.

"Fuck," I heard him mutter before his hands gripped the sides of my face. "Hungry, baby, are you?" His eyes glowed a faint green; I shuddered at the power he held within himself. Held back for me. "Tap my thigh twice," he spoke and I had no choice but to obey. "Okay. Do that if it gets too much, alright?" I nodded. He gave me a wide, beaming smile. "Good girl," he praised, experimentally bucking his hips into my mouth a few times.

In and out. I focused on my breathing, sharp, little inhales: his girth took up all the free space in my mouth, the tip of it barely fit into my throat. The burn, the stretch; I felt every tenth of an inch, every bulging attempt of my body to accommodate Bruce's huge cock. It was delicious, I couldn't help but crave the same stretch in my neglected, sopping wet pussy.

"Fuck, you're taking it so well," Bruce moaned wetly. "Your mouth... S'like heaven... Could fuck it all day, that's my good girl," the rambling increased in it's intensity as the pace of his hips hastened. Drool and tears flowed like a river; my chin was dropping with it, spit connected my face to his pelvis. "Oh," there was a brief pause to his movements; suddenly, he pulled out, fisting the base of his cock, staring me down with a ferocious gleem in his eye.

I must've looked a straight mess; my face like a crime scene, my clothes disheveled, covered in fluids and most of all - I was desperately grinding against my own feet, too focused on the glorious cock in front of me to notice the weakness of my own flesh. "Daddy?" I questioned, wincing at the grating of my own voice.

Without a word, the belt was tugged once more; in a set of movements just slightly north of acrobatic, I found myself laying on my back in the middle of the bed, my sweatpants suffering a haste demise in the corner of the room.

Bruce crawled atop me, leaving a trail of sloppy kisses on every inch of my skin he could reach, mouthing something inaudible into every pore of my body. As he drew closer, I discerned bitten-off phrases, stringing my desire into sticky, tangy mess at the apex of my thighs.

"My perfect baby girl," the words reached me; all tongue, he kissed me once more, arching into me as much as I arched into his hot grasp. A brief inspection of my face - he was satisfied with what he saw - and Bruce crawled back, settling in between my spread legs, breathing hot air on the lips of my sex still covered by a sopping wet piece of fabric.

"Oh fuck," I yelped, feeling him smooch it soundly, the hot wetness of his tongue penetrating the meagre lace barrier with ease.

He moved it aside anyway, with a single finger, giving my pussy a broad lick, moaning into my cunt like a man gone mad. It took a few more licks for him to feel sated enough to surface, all the while holding my hips down. I was so sensitive, I felt even the tiniest flicks to my clit, I was sure if I didn't cum then and there, I would explode.

"Such a pretty pussy, princess," his heavy breathing paused briefly. He nipped my thigh. "So wet, is that all for me?"

"Yes, yes, daddy," I rasped, pushing my cunt into his face, losing all shame and trepidation.

"So tasty," he continued the torture, outlining my lower lips before taking another nosedive right into it, swirling his tongue around every fold, sucking onto my clit.

Bruce ate my pussy until my thighs shook, until my core quivered and I could no longer hold back the choked, ragged screams starting somewhere in the low of my belly and coming out as unholy, all-consuming yowls filled with unadulterated lust.

"Louder for me, baby," he inhaled rapidly, and then, he sucked on my clit.

The world stopped, halted on it's axis, every muscle going rigid in my body and every nerve ending simultaneously coming alive. Faintly, I heard a chant, repeating two syllables over and over, it sounded like my voice - but I had no control over myself. All I could do was weakly grind my hips against Bruce's mouth, faltering when the crashing waves of my orgasm began to recede.

The infuriating overstimulation stopped; blinking hazily, I saw Bruce's eyes glimmer brown and green in front of my face. His nose and his chin was glistening with a thin coat of sticky fluid; disheveled and red, he looked a man on the verge of a revelation.

Something hot and blunt nosed at my cunt, bringing back the moment to me - I realized, with a great deal of impatience - how empty I felt. The decision was minute. "Daddy, fuck me, please, I want your cock," the words came easily.

"That's my girl," his eyes fluttered shut as the first inches squeezed through the snug of my cunt. I was sopping wet and as relaxed as I'd be, but even then, it was a stretch. "Good girl, good baby," the mumbled praise made me whine and my pussy clamp on his cock. "Relax, let daddy fill you up." Breathing through it, I consciously unwound myself around him, letting my palms rest freely on his shoulders. "Let daddy take care of you."

Like melted sugar, his husked words stuck to me inside and out. Short, sharp thrusts; Bruce was patiently burrowing himself inside of me, making his way to reach the deepest parts of me I didn't even know existed. His cock head pressed against something hard and spongy inside of me; stars burst behind my eyes I'd clamped shut on reflex.

I moaned weakly, tugging on his arm, pressing myself closer. It felt so, so good. Like a raw nerve had been exposed and he was stroking it, pushing that little switch with every stroke of his hips.

"I'm not gonna last," he muttered as once again, my cunt squeezed him snugly in place, just as greedy as I was to feel that tiny explosion spark up within me again.

"I want..." I panted. Bruce set in a punishing pace after that, a palm under my ass, squeezing it so hard there would definitely be bruising. I craved it, I needed to see the evidence this was not some elaborate fever dream. "I want... Daddy to fill me up," words came out garbled; it sounded like gibberish to my ears but Bruce - they spurred him on.

"Oh yeah?" That breathless, boyish cockiness was back in his voice again; despite how fucked out he sounded, I prepared myself for something truly out of this world. I just knew.

He sat back on his shins, dragging me by the hips with him, making me shiver and moan and twitch and clamp onto him again as his throbbing cock hit that special spot again. And again. And again.

"Look at me, baby," a hand on my belly and his eyes burning right through me. As they slid down, towards the apex of my thighs where he was still moving within me almost lazily, I saw it.

"Oh fuck," I couldn't utter much more than a two-syllabled profanity. There was a bulge in my belly, just above my pelvis, moving in rhythm with Bruce's hips. And then he pressed on it and I-

Something, someone, somewhere was screaming. The noise was loud and pitched, but even then, I could barely hear it though the neverending waves of bliss that enveloped my whole being. Gold and silver at the edges of my rapidly darkening vision; I was drowning in something that smelled and felt like Bruce. The safety of his arms, the warmth of his heated body, the rapid snapping of his hips-

Oh.

"I'm gonna, fuck," the last word was but a ghost of a human speech. Growling low and filthy, Bruce leaned into my ear, his breath hot and moist. "Mine," his hips stuttered, his cock nestled deep, the sensation bordering on painful, forcefully extracted pleasure. It throbbed with every spurt of his seed; each one felt like a solid punch in the gut to my abused pussy.

"Daddy," I mewled, my body jerking away from him but my mind and my soul yearning for more. His rapidly softening flesh made the idea of being separated unbearable.

"S'good, s'my good girl, m'so proud," he mumbled, looking slightly disoriented as he removed himself from me, immediately pressing me to his side and interwining any free, flailing limbs.

We laid in silence, each of us slowly coming back to Earth after the completely unreal experience we just had. I didn't know what to think, didn't know what to do as the realization set in, the post-orgasmic haze giving way to a sudden rush of clarity.

"I can hear you overthinking," Bruce's voice was fond.

Before I could muster up the courage to snark back, the divided doors opened, one very concerned Tony Stark standing there, armed with a tranquilizer gun in one hand and a pack of cookies in the other. His mouth, previously open to (probably) yell at us, remained as open when his eyes had registered the scene in front of him.

I stared at Bruce. Bruce stared at Tony.

"The noise," he offered in the way of explanation, dangling the pack of cookies, looking, for once - speechless. He recovered quickly, however, even if the remark was a thin ghost of his usual sass: "You pick the nerd over me? I'm hurt," he scoffed in mock irritation, although I was pretty sure I saw some satisfaction in there, too.

Bruce looked at me. I looked at Bruce.

A mischievous grin slowly crept up his face, an identical one beginning to appear on my own face seconds after.

"Hey, two nerds is better than one, right?" My response is what did it; or, rather, it was the evidence of my previous throat-fucking clearly audible in my voice... Tony dropped the cookies and then, the tranq gun.

Bruce Banner taglist: @pilloclock @mikariell95 @letsby @sleep-i-ness @toomanyrobins @persephonehemingway @mostly-marvel-musings @schemefrenzy @lillsxd @bluecrazedandbeautiful @slothspaghettiwrites @sapphicnoodle69 @couldntbedamned @xoxabs88xox @marvelsbanner @tripleyeeet @tatestripedsweater @stuckybarton

[ofpineapplesanddawns]

Something for the Vardy AU? How about Date night gone wrong, but still with "I like spending time with you" ?

The idea of a date night with these two is so odd to me, but then I remember that Hardy's one canonical date in the show was awkward, and that might be why.

It's not as awkward as that for this, but Alec still feels bad.

On with the fic!

--

"I should have looked at the menu online first..." Alec commented from across the table, looking a bit bothered.

"Why's that?" Lucian asked, tilting his head. Yes, it did look a little pricey, but he was sure they could afford any number of dishes just fine. A lot of it seemed rather fancy, much nicer than what Lucian was used to, but he could handle it just fine, he'd eaten worse than caviar or whatever.

"I didn't check to see if there's anything here that I can eat." Alec said quietly.

"What can you eat, exactly?"

"Not a lot without having to try it first, and when I do, it usually makes me sick. It's really touch and go."

"Should we... go somewhere else?"

Alec shook his head. "No, I already got us reservations, and it's the nicest place in town, according to Miller and Beth."

"Well, if you'd rather not eat, that's alright."

Again, Alec shook his head. "No, it's weird when I do that, people don't like it at all. I'll just get a steak, rare. That's safe enough, I think."

Lucian raised an eyebrow, about to ask what he meant, but their waiter arrived and they placed their orders, along with getting a bottle of wine. "Is that safe for you to drink?" Lucian asked when they were left alone.

"Yeah, just one or two glasses. I brought my pills, the blood helps." Alec replied and Lucian really took into account that he didn't know how Alec ate.

He was aware of blood, obviously, and apparently the occasional moth when he was a tiny bat. But normal food? Liquids didn't seem to be a problem, and he had seen Alec eat toast before, and chips a few times that he snatched from Daisy if she brought them into the house.

But really, he never saw Alec eat.

"How are you with raw meat?" Lucian asked and Alec looked bothered.

"I hate... that it tastes fine, it doesn't make me sick or taste like ash like most foods do."

Interesting, Lucian wondered if he could offer him some the next time he went out for a hunt. But Alec might not care much for that, unless if he can eat it as a tiny bat? Maybe he'd feel better if the portions were smaller?

Alec changed the topic, talking about something that happened at work, about some punk that was causing them problems and Ellie decided to make that her problem. Their food arrived while he was talking and Alec looked at his plate, frowning.

It looked pretty good, in Lucian's opinion, but then again, he liked meat. His wolf instinct much prefers it over other choices, hence his own choice of a similar dish, but he and Alec were two different kinds of creatures, and clearly the vampire didn't seem as interested.

Lucian watched as his date took small portions, seeming to be trying to handle it, before he gave up. "I can't. It's not rare enough." He frowned. "This is why I don't eat out often."

"Oh, well, we can just take it home with us then." Lucian suggested.

"I only ate about a fourth of it, that seems like an insult to the chef. Fuck. I'm sorry about this, Lucian. It's been... a really long time since I've been on a date with someone, and sometimes I just forget myself, forget my limitations. I ruined the date, should have seen this coming."

Lucian shook his head. "No, no, it's fine! I'm still having a nice time with you, and besides, we won't let that go to waste. Just slice some of it off and put it on my plate, I've got no problem with eating it."

He reached over, taking Alec's hand. "And besides, whatever we do, go out, eat in, it doesn't really matter to me. I like spending time with you."

Alec looked at their hands, then up at Lucian. "So I didn't fuck up?"

"No, unless if you also think I did because I'm probably underdressed for this. I've never owned a tie in my life, didn't think I needed it for a restaurant." Lucian chuckled.

He saw the smallest hint of a smile on Alec's face. "No, you look fine, better than fine. I don't think a suit works for you anyway."

"They work for you." Lucian replied and rubbed the back of Alec's hand with his thumb. "Still, I'm having a good time, and it's fine if you don't want to eat the rest of your dinner. We can have something much better suited for you when we get back to your place." He smirked and judging by Alec's reaction, he picked up on the meaning.

[twdmusicboxmystery]

from 11 x 23 filming photos, we see daryl carrying judith (?) i think i spot a thin braid in the hair. amazing callback to beth! even shots through a chain link fence. and seems to have a head wound right where beth did. i guess this means beth has not shown up yet----at least not to daryl or this group of people. appreciate your thoughts

Yeah, let's talk about this. My fellow theorists and I have been looking at these pics for 2 days. I'll put them under a READ MORE for anyone who doesn't want spoilers. But these aren't episode spoilers. They're filming pics that were linked. In them, Daryl is carrying someone, who at first we couldn't identify. Then more pics came out and it's obviously Judith. She gets injured at some point and the group is running around and he's carrying her in his arms.

So, I'm definitely side-eying this whole thing. Two days ago, as far as I can tell, only the first 3 pics were leaked. And we honestly couldn't tell who he was carrying. People speculated Judith, Lydia, Maggie, and Leah, at the very least. Of course with some of her hair looking blond in the angle of the light, we even speculated Beth, but didn't want to get our hopes up about that.

Then yesterday, the next 3 pics surfaced, making it clear that it's Judith. If you aren't sure, look at the bottom pic. She's in shadow there, so her jacket looks dark brown. But two pics up, when Daryl is carrying her in sunlight, the jacket looks more orange or rust-colored. But the jacket, jeans, and boots are the same. It's Judith.

And of course that struck us right away--as you mentioned yourself, Nonny--is the parallel to Coda. It's not like Daryl has carried numerous other characters this way over the years. Only Beth. And now Judith.

And no, I really don't think they're killing Judith off or anything. I would be very surprised if they did that. But I think there's definitely a connection here. We just have no way to know what it is.

The other thing I can't help but be suspicious about is that these were leaked at all. Apparently, they're from 11x23. That's a LONG way from what's airing right now. They seem to have been released to multiple twitter accounts in the same day, no one is claiming ownership of them, and tptb are being utterly silent on the matter.

So, I have no doubt that these were purposely released. And, especially as the first ones released showed Daryl carrying someone this way, and we couldn't clearly see their face, they must have known how TD would react to this. What we would think and speculate about. I mean, look how close this is:

And why release something like this, especially if it's not actually her?

They could be teasing us, trying to rile up the fandom, trying to get people talking. (Mission accomplished on all fronts.)

But I also wonder if it's just a straightforward hint that Beth is close. I ALMOST feel like they might be throwing us a bone. There's been a lot of talk of Donnie because this coming episode on Sunday. And no, I'm not worried about it. But now they're "leaking" something that won't happen for another 13 episodes and screams Beth.

Other, minor things to notice:

This place looks a lot like Terminus, but I don't think it actually will be in the show. People are also saying it looks like where Eugene's group first ended up before entering the CW. So, it may still be some part of the Commonwealth.

Eugene and real Stephanie are side by side here, which makes us happy. His suit is kind of weird and gave us Matrix vibes. But because they're running around, and a lot of them have guns, it really does give off a Terminus vibe.

Finally, anyone who follows me already knows this, but just something to point out. I've often harped on how they try to pass the spinoff off as a Daryl-and-Carol road trip show. I keep telling you that won't be the case. TWD isn't really ending. It's just jumping to a new show vehicle (the spinoff). And for me, this is evidence of that. If THIS kind of drama (Terminus-like drama) is happening in ep 23, do you honestly think the entire show will tied up with a neat bow in ep 24.

No. This strikes me as a setup for a major cliffhanger that will no doubt lead into the spinoff and/or the Rick Grimes films. Just wanted to point that out.

Totally agree with you, Nonny. This screamed Beth to us, and it's highly suspicious that it came out at all and now. Thanks so much! Xoxo! ❄️💕

[that-crazy-five-foot-two-chick]

Summary: Winry sat in the optimal place to study in the school cafe for the entire fall semester. Then spring came, and suddenly some self-entitled twit who dressed like off-brand Gerard Way decided it was his territory. He was so not going to get off easy.

Rating: T

Word Count: 1.8k words of coffee shop/college AU with a side of enemies to almost-lovers

A/N: It's finals week, I posted this on Ao3 at almost 5am, and if the rest of the sentence didn't make it obvious, I'm writing from unfortunate experience. Not beta-ed or proofread, although I happened to see one thing to fix when I woke up this morning. Feel my raw power. Rawr.

It wasn't that big a deal.

It kind of really was, though.

Every Thursday morning during the fall semester, Winry sat in the same spot at the same school coffee shop. It was the spot sent by the entire patron pantheon of cram papers. Maybe one person didn't need an entire booth, but it was in the corner, and the tops of the bench seats had opaque plastic barriers that just so happened to be perfect for minimizing excess visual chaos. For the most part, there weren't loud conversations, and the jazz music that came through the speakers helped her tune out people ordering coffee. Add to that the fact that she could use campus flex dollars and not her own bank account that was begging for mercy, and it was the perfect spot to get papers done.

But apparently not this spring.

As soon as Winry walked in, she noticed him in the corner. Some emo wannabe guy on his computer. Probably on Reddit complaining about how women didn't appreciate the amazing pics he sent them on Tinder. Or at least, it was a fair guess based on the sour look on his face. Why did this guy of all people have to steal the holy grail spot? Ugh. She was still gonna get her coffee, darn it.

"You know the deal, Sciezska. Medium roast with a shot of espresso and vanilla creamer."

"On it! You paying in flex?"

"Yeah." She scanned her student ID and lowered her voice. "Who's off-brand Gerard Way in the corner?"

"Who's Ger—"

"The punk kid."

"Ohhh. I can try to get his number for you, if you want."

"No, he looks like a total tool! And not the kind I like dealing with!"

"Which means you think he's hot. I didn't think you were into that type, but you're not wrong."

"For the last time, no, Sciezska! He took my spot! And I'm trying very, very hard to keep this to a stage whisper, but if you keep trying to set me up with some random creep, I won't be able to!"

A distinctly male voice grumbled, "I'm not a creep."

"Keep telling that to the girls on Tinder. I'm sure they'll understand eventually."

"Yeah, and I'll bet if you look at your 'Live, Laugh, Love' sign a little more, you'll understand it eventually." He mumbled something under his breath.

"What was that, Mr. Nice Guy?"

"Lay off, it's eight in the morning. I said the only reason I even have a Tinder account is because my roommate stole my phone while I was going to the bathroom."

"Well, if you didn't want it, why didn't you delete it?"

"Eh, I figured if I really got sick of being single one day, it'd already be there."

"Never would have guessed you were single," Winry said dryly.

"Come on, it's way too early to be rubbing that kind of crap in. Who says I'm not fine with being single anyway?"

Sciezska timidly spoke up. "Medium roast with espresso and vanilla creamer?"

Winry thanked her as red jacket boy continued. "'Edward Elric, Bachelor.' Almost sounds as good as 'Edward Elric, Bachelor of Science.'"

"B.S. degree. Sounds about right."

"About time you stopped acting like I'm an idiot!"

Winry snorted. "That's not what I meant."

"Hey!"

"And with that, I'm going to go find some other spot to write my paper."

Edward, as his name apparently was, scoffed and mumbled something that sounded like "good riddance". Maybe the librarians wouldn't get on her case too much for bringing in coffee.

-----

A week later, Winry walked into the cafe, assuming the circumstances of the previous week were an anomaly. They were not.

"Medium roast with a shot of espresso and vanilla creamer," she grumbled and sulked in the direction of the corner seat.

"Hey, don't start with me again, blondie. I've had a whopping four hours of sleep and I can't promise you'll like what comes out of my mouth."

"We're at a coffee shop. Get some coffee. I can't help it if you're too hung over to be polite."

"Now look, genius. I did not stay up until 4 A.M. working on a stupid chem paper for that sadistic pyromaniac excuse for a professor just for some random chick to accuse me of being hung over."

"Oh."

"Yeah. And for your information, coffee doesn't really help me wake up. It just helps me focus on homework." He lifted up his empty cup and gave it a shake.

"That's the weirdest thing I've ever heard."

"ADHD is a weird thing, and yet, here I am."

"Huh, interesting."

"Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to pick up where I left off with the same stupid ten page paper I started last night."

"Oh right. Sure," Winry stammered. "Listen, I'm really sorry I just assumed things about you. It was wrong of me, and I'd like to make it up to you, if that's okay."

Edward eyed her suspiciously. "What do you have in mind?"

"Well...I could look over your paper once you're done writing it? I've got a paper of my own to write while I'm waiting, and I can sit right across the table here so you don't have to come get me. I won't try to talk to you or anything. Neither of us need that kind of distraction."

"Alright, alright. Get your coffee and sit down. The girl at the counter's been up there waiting for a good minute or two while you've been at confessional over here."

"Wait, she has?" Winry's eyes widened, and Edward laughed at her expense. He was kind of attractive when he wasn't scowling...wait what? She pouted and got up to retrieve her coffee. When Winry returned, she plopped down on the bench opposite Edward and opened her laptop. Peeking out from behind it, she added, "By the way, I'm Winry. I figured you ought to at least know the name of the person who's proofreading your paper."

"Well, Winry, you're the one who volunteered." The corners of his mouth twitched upward. The two worked on their assignments in silence, occasionally speaking up when necessary.

-----

Edward was in the corner again the next week as well.

"Hey, Edward! Mind if I join you for homework again?"

"Normally, I'd say no, but you didn't bother me too much last week, so you might as well." He turned away slightly.

"Great! Have you gotten your coffee yet? I didn't see a cup, and you got something the last two times."

"Eh, I haven't been here long. If you're going up and getting yours, would you mind ordering a caramel macchiato for me?" He asked, sliding his ID across the table.

"Yeah, no problem. I'll be back in a sec."

She returned and slipped his ID back before pulling out her computer. "Do you have anything for me to look over this time?"

"Not this week. But if you have anything you need looked over, I can do that, too."

"Actually, I do, if you wouldn't mind."

"Winry, I just volunteered. Just send the paper to my school email. Mine's 'elricedwa'," he instructed as he proceeded to spell it.

"Medium roast and a caramel macchiato?" Sciezska called out.

"Coming!" Winry replied and turned to Edward. "I just sent it, so you should be able to start while I'm getting our stuff." Eyes glued to his laptop, Edward gave a thumbs up.

Once she returned with their drinks, Winry sat down and wordlessly set Edward's drink next to him.

"Thanks," he muttered distantly. His lips mirrored the words he was reading. Though his lips weren't plump by any stretch of the imagination, they were shapely. His steely concentration made the air leave Winry's lungs. To top it all off, the first rays of sunlight came through the window just right, hitting Edward's hair in a way that made it positively glow.

What was she thinking? Those were only the sorts of things people thought when they had a crush. She'd only had two positive interactions with him, including this one. ...well, maybe it was a crush. She could certainly do worse than someone with a questionable fashion sense. After all, he worked hard, and he got good grades, if the quality of his writing was any indication. Okay, fine. He was also drop dead gorgeous, if you could see past his clothing choices. Yeah, she had a crush.

"Did you hear anything I just said?"

"...no."

"Figures. I finished reading your paper. It's not bad, I just left a few suggestions for sentence structure. Now I am going to enjoy my caramel macchiato." He took off the lid and breathed in the steam with his eyes closed, nearly drooping into the cup in content. When he opened his eyes slowly, Winry was awestruck by the similarity between the color of his eyes and his drink.

"What?" Edward furrowed his eyebrows.

"Nothing. I didn't say anything. At all. Nope."

"Okay." He shrugged. She reopened the document and went through his suggested edits. Gnawing her lip in concentration, she leaned forward a bit to settle in and tackle the editing.

"...hey, uh, Winry?" Edward gulped. "Are you going to drink your coffee?"

"Oh! Yeah, I almost forgot. Thanks, Edward!" she smiled.

"No–no problem. And you can call me Ed, you know. Most people do. Except for that excuse for a professor that calls me pipsqueak. Can you believe he's my advisor? I mean, come on, I'm a grown man. I'm not that short."

Winry made a poor attempt at containing her laughter. "Okay then, Ed. Prove it. Stand up."

"Fine." He slid out of the booth and stood. Winry followed suit and appraised their respective heights.

"Well, I'd hardly call you tall, but you're at least taller than me by a few inches, for whatever that's worth."

Edward grinned as if he had won some sort of prize. "Time for shorties to sit down now!"

"Watch it now. You're not too far from that label yourself, mister."

They both returned to their positions in the booth and worked steadily for the next hour. At the end of that time, Winry closed her laptop. "Ed, are you okay? You seem distracted."

"ADHD. I'm always distracted," he dismissed.

"No, like, are you sick or something? You did get more than four hours of sleep this time, right?"

"No comment." Ed's mouth twitched. He mumbled barely loud enough to hear, "Wouldn't have mattered anyway."

"Are you sure? If you're not feeling well, I can drive you over to the health center."

"N-no. That's not it." He exhaled, then slid a napkin across the table. His hands trembled slightly. "Anyway, here's my number. In case you need me to look over a paper. Or whatever. I've got a class soon."

Winry blushed, but tucked the napkin in her laptop. "Thanks, Ed. See you next week?"

"Yeah. Next week."

-----

Winry: This goes with your major, right?

Edward: Blocked

[jadegrey711]

Into the Night

Noah Flynn x Fem!Reader

A/N:  I'm really excited this was my very first request and I hope I gave my anon what they wanted. I really enjoyed writing this.... when I was finally able to actually sit down and write it! I didn't make this one NSFW since I didn't know if my anon's request was nsfw or not. But the sexual tension is there. Plus I felt like this one didn't need any smut, I just went where the music took me. I hope you guys enjoy it! 

*NOT MY GIFS*

Summary: It's the reader's birthday and her two best friends Lee and Elle have decided to take her anywhere that she wants to go. The reader decides that she wants to celebrate her birthday by going out and dancing at a new club

ANON REQUEST: Could you please do a Noah Flynn and plus size reader imagine maybe where she's friends with Elle and Lee and she's confident but also believes she's not Noah's type but he proves her wrong.

If you like my stories you can check out my sideblog @jadegreywriting​​ to see all of them and my masterlist without filtering through my main blog.

I own all rights to this story and do not give permission for my stories to be published, translated or reposted anywhere else. The only places I have published my stories is here on Tumblr and on my AO3 account (LadyAuthor711) 

Inspiration songs

Into the Night by Santana (feat Chad Kroeger)

You are my kind by Santana (feat Seal)

The Game of Love by Santana (feat Michelle Branch)

Breaking Down the Door by Santana (feat Buika)

Summer. A time that during the other half of the year feels like it’s eons away and when it does come it never lasts as long as you need it to. However, in those what feels like extremely brief months this is how I spend my time; sitting by the pool with my two best friends Elle and Lee – wait where’s Lee?

“Lee!” Elle screeched at him; causing me to burst out in a fit of laughter. Which in turn caused Elle to laugh too and Lee’s smile grew even wider.

Suddenly though, he walked outside, breaking the easy vibes of the situation and sending a lightning bolt of tension through me.

Suddenly though, he walked outside, breaking the easy vibes of the situation and sending a lightning bolt of tension through me.

“What’s all the noise?” Noah asked, looking slightly annoyed as he walked outside, his shirt obviously no where to be seen.

I chuckled to myself at this and then felt Noah’s gaze on me; intense as always, he just has that natural intensity with everything he takes in. I watched as he gazed down at me, then quickly looked back to Lee.

I never knew if those gazes were his natural intensity or if it was some level of scrutiny at what he was looking at.

A curvy girl, with love handles unabashedly wearing a bikini, the same kind that Elle a thin and extremely athletic girl wears.

No matter, whether his gazes were filled with scrutiny or not, my reaction to them was always the same, I’d smile and tilt my chin up just a bit higher. This is my body and I’ve learned a long time ago to love it for what it is; mine.

Lee broke my thoughts. “It’s called laughter, Noah. Not that you would know how to make a girl laugh.” Lee chortled, causing both me and Elle to giggle at his dig.

Noah just smirked. “I’m too busy earning other noises from them.” He smiled like cat who caught the canary.

I unconsciously crossed my legs in front of me.

Lee laughed him off and shook out his hair before he swam to the edge of the pool, crossing his arms on the pool edge in front of him.

“So, Y/N. Do you have any ideas on where you want to go for your birthday tonight?” Lee said eagerly, and Elle swung her legs over her lawn chair, eagerly.

“Yeah Y/N. You’ve had all week to think about it, I mean you definitely don’t want Lee to pick the party place.” She said.

“I was thinking that we could go out dancing.” I smiled at them. “There’s this new club that plays Latin music and I really want to go check it out.”

“Definitely sounds interesting.” Lee said, and I could already hear the apprehension in his voice at the thought of dancing. But before he could say anything else Elle cut in.

“It’s your birthday Y/N. We’ll do whatever you want to do.” She said with a smile on her face. Then just as we were about to make the plans for tonight another voice cut in.

“I’m in.” Noah said easily.

We all turned our heads towards Noah who had still been standing there, casually listening to our conversation.

“You can’t come!” Lee said a bit aggressively.

Noah didn’t look the least bit fazed. “Sure, I can. There’s three of you, and that means one of you will be left without a dance partner.”

“Lee will dance with both of us equally. Plus, I’m fine with dancing on my own for a while.” I said, taking in that intense gaze once again.

*****

Noah didn’t drop the subject any time soon and along with his logic of having equal dance partners he apparently wanted to go check out the new club as well. So, by seven o’clock that night all four of us were jammed into Lee’s mustang; Lee and Elle in the front with Noah and I in the back.

*****

The electricity in the air of the club was stifling as we walked inside. It was refreshing to me to see a live band playing in front of the crowded club instead of some random DJ with a turn table. I felt my excitement grow as I took in the couples on the dancefloor, they seemed to be thrumming to the music, letting themselves be possessed by the music; as it seemed to shake the very foundation of the club.

I looked back to gauge Elle and Lee’s reactions to their new surroundings but instead I found Noah; standing right beside me taking in my every reaction to the club. I felt my cheeks go hot and I walked quickly towards Elle and Lee.

“So, what do you guys think?” I smiled brightly at them.

“Well, there is definitely a lot of dancing.” Lee said, his panic literally coming off in waves.

I felt my heart sink a bit as I gauged their reactions and knew I couldn’t enjoy myself tonight if I knew they weren’t having fun. “We can go somewhere else if you guys want.” I said hating how small my voice sounded.

Elle quickly cut in. “We’re not going anywhere! It’d your birthday and you wanted to dance; now let’s dance!” She smiled brightly as she grabbed my hand and we made our way to the dancefloor, through the thrumming couples and started to dance. It wasn’t anything as nearly as sexy or anything that could really even be considered serious dancing, but it’s what I had exactly envisioned for the night my best friends and I just letting loose on the dancefloor.

Elle and I were having so much fun that Lee finally felt safe enough to come and join us in our weird swaying motions; but Noah never moved from his spot by the bar he just continued to watch, taking it all in.

*****

Later in the night, Elle and Lee had to take a break but I couldn’t stop, I too felt possessed by the rhythm, feeling it vibrate withthin my chest and filling my soul in places I didn’t think were empty so, I stayed and I danced. I swayed to the music, not giving a shit about how my hips were swaying or why my hands glided up my hips as they made little circles or why my arms went above my head, gently lifting up my hair only to let it fall against my back once more. I just danced.  I danced like there was no one there but me and the music.

Suddenly I felt someone’s fingers brush against my neck as they pushed my hair to one side and leaned in to whisper in my ear.

“You have got to be the sexiest dancer in here Y/N.”

I quickly turned my head to see Noah beside me, giving me that award wining smile.

“Noah?” I asked. “What are you doing?”

He placed his hands gently at the top of my hips, pressing them against me to make me sway my hips again. He buried his face in my neck, and whispered against my skin.  “I thought you could use a dance partner.” He smiled.

I felt shocked. I mean I knew that Noah was one to flirt, but all those looks of scrutiny by the pool came flooding back to me as I turned in his arms, hoping that it would remove his hands from my hips but he just moved with me.

“Why?” I asked for the first time tonight forgetting about the music and furrowing my eyebrows at him. “You’ve never shown interest before. Why would you now?”

Noah’s gaze focused on me. “I’ve always wanted to dance with you, Y/N.  I just didn’t realize how much I wanted to until I saw you dancing here by yourself, without a care in the world and looking so fucking sexy. That I realized how stupid it was to just sit over there and watch you when I could be dancing with you.”He said his gaze even more intense than before, then suddenly I felt his fingers brush down the length of my arms slowly, causing my body to erupt in fire, until his fingertips brushed against mine.

He interlaced our fingers together then twirled me around on the dancefloor only to pull me back to him this time closer. I felt his heat from his body through my fingertips as I placed my hands on his chest; I looked up at his beautiful face and smiled. I felt mischievous as I ran my hands up his chest and wrapped them around his neck, bringing him even closer to me; his hands went back to my hips, following their every rhythm; and just like that we were possessed too. The music filled us both and we became like every other couple in that club, ensnared in both the music and in each other.

[punkscowardschampions]

Jac & Jesse

Jac: [some gossip about him that could either be a bit true or totally hilariously not] Jac: when were you gonna tell me, like? Jesse: 👎 Jac: That's what you would say now you've been found out Jac: I 👀 Jesse: not to you Jac: Hmm Jac: I look forward to getting the actual info to spread about then Jesse: you'll have a long wait, dickhead Jesse: be gone by then Jac: Where are you going? Jesse: be quicker to ✔ off where I ain't Jesse: fully booked, me Jac: No one likes a show-off 🙄😏 Jac: how busy are you now? Jesse: busy with a ☕ Jesse: you alright? Jac: Yeah, I'm good Jac: I'm just getting ready for when I go on my own one-stop tour Jac: so when you've got a minute between ☕s maybe we can talk Jesse: go on Jac: You sure? Jac: not trying to be that customer that can't take a hint Jesse: you heard Jesse: don't need to be the customer pissing about when I'm trying to close up Jesse: you're fine to crack on Jac: alright, understood Jac: I won't nurse my ☕ and order a 2nd with five minutes to go Jac: I don't know how to start what I wanna say, helpful, I know Jesse: I ain't put a ⏲ on Jesse: take a bit if you need Jac: I mean, you put me on the 🕔 a bit but I'll just ignore you when you put up the chairs around me 💁 Jac: There's a lot of stuff I don't wanna leave left unsaid Jac: well, a lot of me does wanna leave it and I know a lot of you probably ain't gonna thank me for it either but I don't think I SHOULD leave some of it, the way it has been Jesse: alright Jac: fuck's sake Jac: okay, do you want the apology, the thanks, or the reasons Jac: because I can do them all but you know, pick your fave or least so we can get it out of the way, I don't know Jesse: can you even have a sorry or thanks without the why bit? Jesse: if I dunno what you're sorry for or saying tah for, not getting very far, like Jac: since you've not actually got me a drink, you've got some idea Jac: but okay, I hear reasons loud and clear, no need to be so coy Jac: you know why I need to say thank you Jac: that's more apparent, and easier Jac: and I didn't just pick you because I had no one else, I still could've made mum do it all with me or nan Jac: I wouldn't have picked anyone else, anyway, which sucks for you but yeah, you stepped up and I wasn't appropriately grateful at the time, or close, so I'll say it now Jac: thanks Jesse: you weren't ready to tell her, I get that, that's why I did Jesse: and it weren't like I did it for a tah Jac: no, I know Jac: but I should still say it now, I wanna Jac: it was still shit, and is always gonna be a shit thing that happened to me but you took a bit of it on, and that counts Jesse: you can have one back, tah for not dying, that worried me for a bit there Jac: I still don't feel like I was ever that reckless, like, I know how that sounds, and obviously the baby was a wake-up call that it had gone TOO far, even for my standards Jac: but under normal circumstances, I would've protected you from that, cared to and I didn't, so that's a sorry too Jesse: it was shit scary, the baby bit especially, but that's why I weren't gonna just leave you to it Jac: I thought I had a handle on the rest, but yeah, I should probably let that idea go since what does that matter given what happened Jac: you could've, and I wanted you to, so sorry/thanks again Jac: that's the least eloquent way I can put it Jesse: if it makes it less of a headfuck for you, reckoning that you had it sorted, you can have it Jesse: I don't mind Jesse: but you ain't ever getting me turning my back however much you want it Jac: I don't know, I was doing reckless, destructive things, but I never thought I was going to die Jac: accidents happen though, so, maybe I can accept now that I was tempting shit back then Jac: I don't want it now, and I did want that less as the year went on Jac: but I'm aware it's shit I ever did, that that must've been, well Jesse: what happened to Is was proper raw for all of us back then, probably put me on edge about you more than it would've done Jac: Yeah Jac: it was so right after, I know that's what mum and dad thought Jesse: we've all thought all kinds of shit Jesse: Jude's said loads of it to me before now, like I can give her an answer ✔ or ❌ Jac: and I deserve to live with the consequences of just letting you all speculate Jac: I really know that, and I'm gonna talk to everyone and you can all say or not say whatever you want to me, it's all fair Jesse: we've all lived Jac: that don't mean it's alright Jac: or I ever reckoned it was Jac: I knew it weren't Jac: and again, that makes it less okay Jesse: you weren't alright, none of us were big enough dickheads not to work that out, even her Jac: Obviously Jac: but the point is, you can hold me accountable now and it won't be a waste of time, you know Jesse: you've been a prick, me an' all loads of times, we both will be again in a bit Jac: it's a bit more than that Jac: come on, don't insult me like you reckon I was like that before Jesse: yeah Jesse: but I ain't gonna bother to hold it against you til you actually do 💀 Jac: that's weird Jac: leave your grudges 'til the grave Jesse: I mean I ain't bothering with any grudges Jac: Alright, hippie Jac: are you graciously accepting my apology and gratitude then or what? Jesse: I'll take it Jac: okay Jac: anything you wanna say? Jac: not last words or anything but if you can before you 💀 I'd appreciate it Jesse: you gonna say why then or what? Jac: It isn't as if it's just the one thing Jac: and now that I have to say, there's the fear that you're all gonna say it wasn't a good enough excuse and that's why I didn't say anything in the first place so Jac: let me work up to it Jesse: just call me a massive twat Jac: No, like, it was a lot Jac: and for what Jac: but it was logical at the time, and what I felt I had to do, whether that seems warranted or nah Jesse: I ain't gonna say you weren't 💔 enough for what you did Jesse: nowt to do with me Jac: You might not Jac: you might think it Jac: but I'm not gonna concoct some lie that makes it all seem worthwhile, can't be that bitch Jac: fake sob story Jesse: unless you're a 🧠📖 that don't matter Jac: I'm not used to gossip rags lying or chatting shit on me Jac: I don't wanna imagine that you think the worst of me, tah Jesse: you already have done Jesse: it weren't just us imagining all sorts, come on Jac: I really, on the whole, wasn't thinking about anyone else Jac: not to brag about it Jac: none of you anyway, it wasn't like I HAD to do that, but it also wasn't a choice, being that cunt, shutting you all out Jac: my 🧠 wouldn't Jesse: not offering you a 🏆 or owt Jesse: you've sorted your head out a bit now, if you wanna tell us Jac: I don't but like, I don't want you all thinking the worse now, when that doesn't need to be a thing Jac: We can't have mum and dad thinking I'm gonna go live some trainspotting fantasies in Edinburgh Jac: 'cos I can't have them making trips over all the time, obviously Jac: also, don't wanna bore you with every in and out, so hold on whilst I storyboard my fucking drama here Jesse: would be a pisstake Jac: It all started when Amelia stopped being friends with us Jac: I don't know if she told you fuck all, as you're such pals these days, but it wasn't just like, a natural drifting apart Jesse: it was 'cause she was in love with you Jesse: dunno if you knew that an' all Jac: yeah Jac: that was it Jac: there was a relatively big declaration and like, I wasn't a dick about it, I don't think Jac: but I didn't feel the same like that so that was enough Jesse: it would be, yeah Jac: so like, she was gone but obviously not I still saw her all the fucking time 'cos there's no escaping anyone in this town, and that was just awkward at first Jesse: obviously Jac: and it did kind of piss me off, that she seriously couldn't be my friend still Jac: but it wasn't all about that, there was the Savannah element of it for us both Jesse: 'course Jac: She was jealous of her, didn't like her, all that Jac: and I cared less, because I did have her Jac: and then the Isabelle thing happened Jac: and it all really got fucked up Jesse: she was proper gone Jac: who was? Jesse: Savannah Jac: Right Jac: but before that Jac: the guy Jac: with Isabelle Jac: we didn't know Jac: but we knew he was like, well we thought he was gross, a bit cringe Jac: so me and Sav set her up Jac: people weren't wrong blaming us, even though they got the situation wrong and they didn't know that, it was just between us Jac: that's why we ran away, and a big part of why she HAD to leave, even if her dad wasn't the most controlling person ever Jesse: what did you reckon would happen? with this lad and Is? Jac: just that...I don't even know now Jac: that she'd make out with him and we could take the piss out of her for it Jac: or he'd try it on and that would be funny because he was so gross Jac: not that he wouldn't take no for an answer, that was never what either of us had imagined Jac: but we still aided that situation, even if unknowingly Jesse: no shit you didn't imagine that Jac: fact was and is, if we weren't such shit friends to her Jac: he was still at the party, still could've Jac: but it might not have been her Jesse: I could have a go at you about how you should've been a more decent mate but it's nowt you don't already know Jac: Yeah Jac: feel free to but obviously that's a huge part of what I've been thinking on these past two years so, you don't have to, like Jac: and then, like you said, Sav left Jac: and I couldn't be friends with Isabelle and I couldn't be friends with Amelia and that was that Jesse: you could've said something to me Jac: I've only just been able to Jac: for ages, it was easier to keep blaming her, or say it would've happened anyway Jac: it was raw Jac: everyone was in shock, and I didn't wanna give a basis for the shit people were saying Jac: god knows how it would've been Jesse: alright Jesse: it was fucking bad enough, I remember Jesse: the bollocks people were saying Jac: not that I had to come out and make an announcement, but even if I'd tried to explain to Is, to apologize, she'd tell her new friends and then everyone would know and I'd be as bad as him Jac: worse for the betrayal Jac: I didn't wanna hack that on my own Jesse: or she'd tell her ma and that'd be Jesse: fucking hell Jac: right Jac: she'd probably call the police or something like they can lock me up Jac: and she knew I was a bad friend, Is, I mean Jac: she'd known we all were to her for a while Jac: but I am gonna talk to her, before I go Jesse: 💡🥇 Jac: I know I'm not dying but it's the first fresh start I've had Jac: any of us, even if someone doesn't wanna forgive me, at least they know the score, if nothing else Jac: and I know I've said what I should Jesse: I'm chuffed for you, mate Jesse: don't reckon I could be 💔 and get into a top uni Jac: you could write a top hit though Jesse: don't sound like me Jesse: but I'd probably give it a go if I were Jac: that's all it's about ain't it ❤ & 💔 Jesse: depends Jac: I've never heard a top 40 about... Jac: idk, mowing the grass Jac: doing your taxes Jac: it ain't the mundane Jesse: I'll write one for you if you're gonna be 💔 about it Jac: I think I'll survive, tah Jac: rather not read the speculation about who broke your heart 🤢 Jesse: 🍻 Jesse: you gonna have a word with Sav an' all? Jac: She's arguably one of the only people I didn't really screw over Jac: she got to go to a better school and get a new, rich pretty boyfriend and not deal with that whole backlash Jac: though I'm sure she feels her guilt for it too Jesse: but there's shit you wanna say that you didn't get to Jesse: half arsed fresh start if you don't Jac: I did say it Jac: well, did Jac: she knows Jac: I don't think there's anything to be gained for her or for me from that one Jesse: 👍 Jac: Not got an actual checklist of people to get through but you know Jac: close enough Jesse: make dad a ☕ all it takes to get in his good books Jac: good books is a stretch but not being on his must-constantly-check-in-on list myself will do for now so yeah, fair shout Jesse: yeah if you're well enough to put the kettle on and make a brew you're well enough to do owt Jac: parenting 101 Jac: ✅ Jesse: 🥇🏆 Jac: not serving it to him in a 🏆 Jac: laying it on a bit thick, I reckon Jesse: 🤏 Jac: Well, we're good then? Jac: not to 🕔 or anything Jesse: yeah Jac: yeah yeah or yeah, I guess Jesse: we're good Jac: Good Jac: if I'm not on my repentance tour, might see you when you get home then Jesse: might do Jac: yes very 😎 Jesse: 🤠

[amarauder]

Chapter Three - Percy Jackson x Reader

| percy’s adventure to the top of the world 

- 

a/n; sorry about this chapter being so late! The entire book is basically published on my wattpad account if you want to check that out. Thank you so much for the feedback though! I am pleasantly suprised! 

- 

It just hits noon on Sunday when Percy gets the text.

It's still the same exact name that she entered in sophomore year, still a plaintive "Y/N L/N" with the tiny description under it that's originally used for company names written as Chemistry Class. Percy narrows his eyes and checks the number in his contacts just to make sure Luke hasn't changed his name to mess with him, and eventually accepts the fact that Y/N's texted him, for whatever reason.

" Hi," it says. That's it.

Percy pushes his phone aside and keeps up his attempts at finishing his essay. English 4 is supposed to be easy, he complains mentally. At this rate, he won't graduate.

Despite his extremely studious research (in which he was both reading Wikipedia articles and playing Solitaire, that is), he still has no clue why Mark Twain was so important as far as literature goes. He does, however, come to the conclusion that he'll never be good at Solitaire.

Percy selects a sentence from the Wikipedia article and pastes it directly into his essay. He modifies it, putting the end of the sentence at the beginning, and exchanges the words "light and humorous" to say "light-hearted." A true genius, he is.

Before he can decide where to go from there, Percy glances over to his phone, biting down on his bottom lip. It's not that he doesn't want to talk to Y/N—since Friday, he's kind of wanted to talk to her non-stop—but he didn't expect her to text first. It admittedly throws him off.

What would Mark Twain do? Percy thinks idly, staring at the guy's name where it sits, bolded, at the top of his paper. For one, Mark Twain wasn't ever introduced to cellphones, so he probably wouldn't even know how to reply to the text, even if he wanted to. And, for two, Mark Twain doesn't really seem like the kind of man who would talk to the girl he likes over text. Percy gets the vibe that he's a really old-fashioned, straightforward type of guy.

Leaning back in his desk chair to stretch, Percy groans. Thinking about Mark Twain probably won't get him through this one.

He replies with a "Hey there," momentarily panicking at how flirtatious it sounds. He tries to cover it up with a "Y/N, right?"

It apparently works, since she sends back a "Yeah, it is. I didn't know if you had my number anymore."

"Wouldn't have deleted it," Percy types immediately. He's hovering over the blue button, considering going with something else—less heartfelt, maybe—to respond with, but instead he accidentally hits send. Wonderful. Out of curiosity, he scrolls up past the texts they're exchanging now and reads through the ones they sent before. He hardly remembers the near two-year old conversations, mostly homework questions or him wondering if there's a test the next day, but there's a few that are just... nice, for lack of a better word. Caring little how are yous from him and some remember to bring your book to classes from her. Percy wishes he could remember why he didn't try to get in touch with her that summer, and now he feels sorry that he didn't—after all, he could have been someone to talk to when she was going through a mess with her parents.

He wants to apologize for it, suddenly, but he figures Y/N would either shrug it off or tell him ten times over that it isn't his fault. He doesn't bother.

"That's comforting." Percy blinks at Y/N's reply, but she doesn't give him a chance to reply before another text comes through. "Are you busy?"

He smiles a little at his phone. Sure, he totally has this essay due tomorrow that'll take him a few hours at the very least, but Y/N's far more interesting and appealing than Mark Twain's influence on literature. not at all, he sends.

"I could use a little help with economics, if you're up for it..."

Economics is by far Percy's easiest class this year, but he doubts he's better at it than Y/N. He doesn't mention that.

"Sure," he replies. "but you're gonna have to tell me everything you know about Mark Twain."

She sends two question marks back, but tacks on a Deal a second later.

"where at?" Percy asks, holding his phone about an inch away from his face. It's likely that he's one of the more pathetic people in this world.

"Yours? I can't say that my house is the most welcoming of places for guests," Y/N says, and Percy frowns a little at that. He doesn't waste any time before sending her his address and telling her to come over whenever she feels like it. He doesn't really say it, but it's an invitation for any day—not just a Sunday where they both have homework to get done.

She gives him an estimated arrival time anyways, so Percy spends his remaining moments wisely by hopping in the shower and letting his mom know that he's having a friend over. She's cooped up in her small little cranny of an office, feet tucked beneath her as she types away on her laptop, glasses perched on the tip of her nose and a cooled cup of tea at her elbow. "Of course, that's fine Percy. You can have Luke over whenever, you know. No need to keep asking."

"It's—" Percy hesitates, leaning his temple on the door frame he's leaning against. "Um, not Luke this time."

That gets his mother's attention. She turns to him with a pleased smile. "Oh, what a surprise! I haven't seen Nico in ages, I should put some cookies in."

Percy chuckles, pushing his still-damp hair out of his eyes. "Not Nico, either. It's Y/N—remember, my chem partner? Came over once for our research paper?"

Sally gives him a maternal grin, lifting her eyebrows. "Oh, I always liked her." She redirects her gaze to her computer. "I had a feeling I wasn't the only one, either."

"Mom," Percy warns.

She holds her hands up, a clear white flag. "I'm not suggesting anything. Just your dear old Mom over here, typing up a novel."

"It'll be the best one yet," Percy says, since he knows Mom thrives under encouragement. "I have a feeling. It'll be the one."

"You think?" Sally asks, and she sounds excited, like she agrees. Percy nods with a grin. "Oh, that would be so great, I—" The doorbell dings throughout their home, and his mom's mouth snaps shut. "That would be for you, I'm guessing. Let me know if you need anything, sweetie."

"Thanks, Mom," Percy says, but he makes sure to shut her office door, partially to preserve his privacy, but mostly because he knows his mom needs isolation when she's in writing mode. He gets the door.

Y/N's dressed casually, which is something Percy hadn't even considered; he tossed on track pants out of habit. "Hey," he greets, after a sure but still moment of silence. "Come on in."

"Hi. Thanks."

Percy shrugs mutely, closing the door behind her. He can definitely, one hundred per cent, handle Y/N's presence for a few hours, especially after a good night of sleep and a day spent lazing around. "Thirsty?"

"Water would be great," she answers, and it's a little awkward for a few seconds while Percy leads them into the kitchen, rummaging through the cabinets for a cup. He usually drinks out of the old, stained plastic ones, but he thinks Y/N probably deserves better as a guest. Eventually, he spots a light blue glass from a dining set they had two houses ago. He pulls it down. "How's your weekend been? Well, since the fair, anyways."

Percy clears his throat, like it'll clear the weird tension in the air, too. "'S been nice. Wish the fair was here for longer, to be honest."

"There's always next year," she says optimistically. He passes off the glass of water, and as she takes it from him, Percy realizes that he didn't bother to ask if she wanted ice. He almost feels rude for a second, but Y/N takes a grateful sip and sends him a little smile, so he guesses that he did alright. "Anyways, economics."

"Right, economics." Percy shakes himself. He should focus on the actual intention of Y/N's visit, not whether or not she'll get huffy about a few ice cubes. "What chapter are you guys on?"

"We have the same teacher, I'm pretty sure—Mr. Manassa?" Percy nods. "My class just started the chapter on supply."

Percy mentally sighs in relief. Supply is something he understands, so he won't look like an idiot. He uses his right thumb to rub at the palm of his left hand, grimacing when he realizes his hands are clammy. "Yeah, same. We can—in the living room, if you want?"

"Fine by me," Y/N replies, and Percy swallows past the weird, sudden dryness in his throat. It's like he's never seen an attractive human before. Christ. "I started reading the chapter, but it just sounds like gibberish. I hate the way the book's written."

"Really?" Percy's actually read a bit of the chapters, since he didn't think the writing was too excruciating, but to each their own. "I don't know, I kind of like it."

"Good, then. Hopefully you can help me make sense of it." She sits on the couch beside him—not really close, but not really far either, and Percy feels himself settling in more, the jitters wearing off. He knows Y/N, is the thing, and it's not even the first time she's sat on his couch while they do school work together. She puts her backpack on the floor and digs out her green economics book, the same one Percy has stuffed underneath his bed. "Have you done the chapter work?"

"What?"

"The chapter work," Y/N repeats, and if Percy didn't know her, he probably wouldn't have noticed how amused she was at his lack of attention. "The work that's due tomorrow."

"Oh, yeah, that," Percy mumbles. Truth be told, he hasn't been doing much at all besides binge-watching old H2O (I had too) episodes on Netflix and playing games on his phone—well, that and a bit of Mark Twain research this morning. "I started it."

"I'm sure," she says, and her tone's some brand of teasing. She peers around, like she's looking for something in particular. "You can go get your backpack, you know."

"I know," Percy replies quickly, sounding a lot more annoyed than he really is. "I was getting there."

Y/N laughs. Percy stands up before he makes the mistake of staring.

He returns with his laptop tucked under his arm, Mark Twain paper still up and sharing the screen with his game of Solitaire. Y/N looks like she might have a laugh at his expense when she sees it, but instead she says, "Explain the difference between supply and quantity supplied to me, please."

And, honestly, Percy's never been in the business of rejecting polite people. He explains to her heart's content.

- 

tags; @ohmygoditsanthonyedwardstark​ and @25-and-a-half-bards

masterlist

[the-observant-frisbeetarian]

Chapter 7 - Five of a Kind

Catch Perfect by George deValier

CHAPTER SEVEN

FIVE OF A KIND: A hand possible only in games with wild cards, comprising five cards of equal rank.

Berwald tried to make his footsteps as light as possible as he walked softly into Tino's bedroom. It was almost noon, but Tino had not stirred from his bed since Berwald had basically carried him there the night before. Frankly, with the amount he had drunk, Berwald wouldn't be surprised if Tino did not stir for a week. He very gently placed a jug of water and a glass on the bedside table, then turned to leave. He was stopped by a low moan.

"Am I dead?"

Berwald felt a small smile tug at his lips. "No. Yer not dead." He turned back to see Tino peering blearily through a small gap in the covers.

"Last night..."

Berwald's heart beat faster. How much would Tino recall? "Hm?"

"Did I… " Tino's forehead furrowed as though he was trying to remember. "Did I... sing ABBA?"

Not much, apparently. Berwald wondered how to answer that question gently. "Um… yeah."

"Oh, no." Tino's face disappeared beneath the blanket. Berwald tried to control his smile. "I was hoping I'd dreamed it."

Berwald shrugged. "'t'was pretty good."

"I made an idiot of myself." Tino's voice was muffled beneath the blankets.

"No," said Berwald firmly.

Tino pulled the covers down enough to reveal a flash of blond hair and one violet eye. Berwald's heart stuttered unevenly. "And did I… did I say anything weird? When we got home?"

Berwald took a sharp breath as Tino's words came flooding back. And you're cute too!... I really, really like you… Do you think I'm sexy? Berwald only paused for a second. "No. Nothin' weird."

Tino closed his eyes and breathed out in relief. "Oh. Good. Berwald?"

"Yes?"

"I'm never drinking again. How does Denmark do this every day? I'm going to die."

Berwald had to bite his lip to keep from laughing. "Ye're not goin' t'die. Go back t'sleep. There's water next to ye."

Tino disappeared under the covers once again. "Thank you, Berwald."

.

Berwald stumbled back down to the living room. The rest of the household were sprawled across the couches and the floor, all in various states of hungover dishevellment. Greenland and Faeroe lay under their usual layer of accumulated trash. Denmark sat with his feet in a bowl of water and a beer bottle in his hand, with a fluffy pink bathrobe around his shoulders and an icepack perched on his head. Iceland lay flat on his back, still dressed in his tiny outfit from the night before, a wet cloth over his face and three different packets of painkillers by his side.

Norway, however, just sat tapping at his laptop on the coffee table, a Simone de Beauvoir novel beside him. He looked completely unaffected, even though he'd probably drunk twice as much as everyone else. "How's the Finn?" he asked monotonously, eyes not moving from the computer screen.

"Sick," Berwald replied, resting his hands on the back of a chair.

Norway nodded. "Unsurprising."

"I'm pretty sure it was that last Jägerbomb," Iceland muttered, his voice muffled by his face-cloth.

Denmark groaned as he adjusted his icepack. "Or, you know, the fact that he drank his own body weight in coloured vodka."

"No alcohol tolerance, any of you," said Norway. "Pathetic."

"How much did we drink last night, anyway?" moaned Iceland. "Actually, never mind that. How much did we spend?"

"We emptied Den's bank account," replied Norway. "Counterproductive, in a way, but it felt fantastic."

Iceland whistled. "Good work."

Denmark took a long swig of beer then leant forward slightly. Berwald stared incredulously. How could Denmark even think of drinking again already? The night before he'd been so drunk he lost a fight with a fire hydrant. "All right, so I think we can safely agree that this 'party' idea didn't exactly solve our problems."

Norway looked up from his laptop screen to stare at Denmark derisively. "What an astonishing observation."

"And, I think we all understand, there's really only one thing we can do." Denmark took another sip of beer and shrugged. "We've gotta sell Greenland."

Greenland raised his head through a layer of empty chip packets. "Hey!"

Denmark raised a hand. "Look, I know your arid areas for production and generally shitty weather are gonna make you a tough sell, and let's face it - Faeroe's always been the pretty one."

Faeroe yawned and nodded. "He's got a point."

Berwald rolled his eyes. Okay, so last night had been an interesting distraction. But now they were back to the same problem: they a week to make ten thousand dollars, and no way to do it. Ten grand used to be nothing to Berwald. Now, it may as well be ten million. "Not sellin' anyone. But we've got t'do somethin'.

"What can we possibly do?" asked Iceland bitterly. "We went through this last night. We've got less than a week. Let's face it." Iceland raised a glass of painkiller-laced water. "That was our last hurrah."

"Jägerbombs and Abba," said Norway flatly. "What a way to go out."

Denmark tossed his icepack to the ground. "How hard can this be? We're Vikings, damn it!"

"Vikings, now?" Norway snorted. "So what, we should stock up our longship and head downtown to plunder the real estate office?"

Denmark's face brightened. "Ooh! I could use my axe!"

Berwald groaned under his breath and turned to leave. It was still too early for this. "I'll be in th'garden."

"You spend too much time in that garden, young man!" Denmark shouted after him. "It's not natural! And you're just raising the value for the next bastards who move in!"

Berwald ignored him and headed outside. Despite it being a work and school day for the entire house, everyone had come to the unspoken decision to stay home after their wild all nighter. But Berwald hadn't drunk nearly as much as the others, and alcohol never affected him much, so he was not feeling too bad as he started work on the garden. He tried not to think about the fact that this would all be a waste of time if they were evicted, which in all likelihood they would be. He tried not to think about where Tino would go; what he would do; how Berwald could bear to live without seeing him every day.

The hours passed peacefully out in the gentle sunshine. But as he worked, Berwald slowly noticed that the house was quieter than he had ever heard it. The phone wasn't ringing; the television wasn't blaring; Denmark wasn't yelling through the window or attempting to whistle or engaging in deafening bedroom activities with Norway. It was rather strange.

Berwald started on another row of yellow daisies. Perhaps his housemates finally understood the gravity of the situation. But that was ridiculous, Berwald told himself. They didn't care for anything. If they lost this house, what would it mean to them? All Iceland cared about was money. All Norway cared about was himself. And Denmark was too insane to give a damn about anything. Berwald wondered briefly if he was being fair, then angrily decided it didn't matter. This mess they were in was not his fault. It was not Tino's fault. Berwald tossed his shovel to the ground then ran a dirt-streaked hand through his hair. What was the point of planting this garden? They'd be out on the street soon enough. Letting out a frustrated sigh, Berwald stormed back towards the house. Maybe his only option was to start looking for another place to live.

As he neared the back kitchen door, Berwald slowed when he heard Iceland speaking. Something about the words made him stop and listen.

"She didn't… no! I can't even imagine… she did? With her hip? Giiirl, that is mad crazy. Me? Nothing as wild as your bingo nights at the hall, Gladys. Just the same old, I'm afraid…"

Intensely curious, Berwald drew closer to the door. This didn't sound like one of Iceland's usual phone calls.

"I know… Yeah, I know. You can surround yourself with a hundred people and yet, you still feel alone." Berwald paused at the door. Iceland sat at the kitchen bench, the phone against his ear, staring at the wall as he listened intently. Berwald felt guilty for eavesdropping, but Iceland's tone and manner were entirely different – something he had never seen from him before. He couldn't help being intrigued.

Iceland nodded, his expression almost pained. "Well, that's it, love. People look at you and they decide for themselves what they're looking at. Whether it's a fabulous diva they see as a crazy old lady, or a kid in white boots they see as a slut. Sometimes it's easier to just be what they think you are. But in the end, fuck 'em. They can think what they want. Doesn't make 'em right."

Berwald felt a complicated mixture of guilt and empathy. Was this the way Iceland felt? Was this was he was hiding behind his façade? It was too simple. It was too unfair.

Iceland's tone brightened when he spoke again. "Better things to do than chat with my best caller? Nonsense, love. And don't even talk about payment. No, stop it, don't be silly. I tell you what, you send me one of those fabulous crochet scarves of yours and we'll call it even. Until next week! Tell Doris that lady is insane!" Iceland laughed brightly. "Bye, love." Iceland hung up the phone, headed for the front room, then faltered when he noticed Berwald in the back doorway. His expression turned instantly blank. "What?"

"Nothin.'" Berwald looked at the floor and waited for Iceland to leave. He didn't. They both stood in silence for a few moments.

"What do you want from him?"

Berwald glanced up uncomprehendingly. Iceland stood with his hand on his hip and his head tilted to the side. He looked both curious and confrontational. "Well? I know you can speak, Berwald. I'm talking about Tino. What do you want from him?"

Berwald was more surprised that Iceland had used his real name than anything. "I don't know what ye mean. I don't want anythin.'"

Iceland scoffed. "Bullshit. No one is that nice. People always want something. They'll pretend they don't; they'll lie. They'll say they love you, and then they'll take what they want and leave you broken and empty while they just laugh at how very stupid you were to believe them."

"'t'was Ivan, wasn't it?" Iceland jerked his head away angrily. Berwald quickly continued. "I'm sorry. Really. But I'm not like that."

Iceland did not look convinced. "Everyone is like that. Are you saying you're different? What sort of person are you, Berwald?"

"What sort of person d'ye think I am? What do ye decide fer yerself when ye look at me?"

Iceland paused at that, then leant heavily back against the bench. He laughed softly. "Do you know, Berwald… I think you actually sort of fit in this mess of a household."

Berwald shrugged. He was quite aware of what an odd moment this was, and yet it felt completely natural at the same time. "Depends how long we're here, I s'pose."

Iceland nodded. "Well, that's true. I've been trying to take more calls, but… well, some people just call because they don't have anyone else to talk to. And I can't charge people for being lonely."

Berwald actually felt his chest ache at that. And he wondered, for the first time, if he had seriously misjudged this unfathomable boy known as Iceland.

The afternoon passed in the same slow, strange quiet, until Berwald started to wonder if he was alone in the house. Tino was still in bed, and probably would be until tomorrow; and Greenland and Faeroe still lay on their couch, but they didn't really count, somehow. It was as he was passing the study that Berwald was again stopped by someone's voice. This time it was the startling, unfamiliar sound of Denmark speaking seriously that halted Berwald in his tracks. He peered through the doorway to see Denmark sitting at the large central desk, his back to the door and the phone against his ear. His words were in Danish, which Berwald could understand well enough.

"Hey, Mum! Yeah, it's me… hi." Denmark tapped his foot restlessly against the floor and ran a hand anxiously through his hair. "Uh, yeah, I know Dad said that, I… I know, I just…" Denmark took a deep breath and spoke in a rush. "Well, I happened to glance at the calendar and I noticed it was his birthday the other day, so I thought maybe I'd call real quick and say…" Denmark's tapping foot went still. "Oh. He wouldn't, huh? Okay, that's… yeah, I understand. So, uh, how are y…" His hand froze in his hair and he lowered his head. "Oh, right, sure. I'll let you go then. All right. Good..." Denmark broke off, paused again, then slowly looked down at the phone. "...bye, Mum."

Berwald stood completely still, hardly daring to breathe. The surprises today just kept coming. He never would have guessed that Denmark could sound so serious, so... devastated. Berwald barely knew what to feel – sorry, sad, bewildered. It took him too long to notice that Norway was standing behind him. His skin crawled with guilty shame as he tried to think of a way to explain. But Norway didn't even acknowledge him. He simply walked into the room, took the phone from Denmark's hand, and placed it firmly on the desk.

"When are you going to learn, Den?" Norway's words sounded stern. But when he touched Denmark's cheek, his usually blank face looked curiously hurt, and he was only gentle. He sat slowly, gently on Denmark's lap; took his hand and smoothed his hair and kissed his forehead. Denmark pulled him close and leant into his neck as Norway's arms surrounded him.

Berwald immediately turned and left, his mind turning in circles and his chest still aching strangely. It seemed nothing in this place was the way he first thought.

.

It was three p.m, and Berwald was onto his third cup of awful instant mix coffee. He almost decided to buy a grinder, then wondered if they would be here long enough for that. The house was still uncannily silent. It had been an interesting day, to say the least. Berwald found himself pondering Tino's words from a few days earlier - It's easier to be odd or crazy or insane than to hurt all the time.

Berwald turned back towards the fridge and stopped short when Tino appeared in the kitchen doorway. His messy hair, ruffled pyjamas, and eyeliner-stained eyes were a stark contrast to his appearance the night before. Berwald thought, his head spinning and his heart stuttering, that he looked just as breathtaking. And very hungover. "Help," Tino croaked.

Berwald tried not to laugh. "More water?"

Tino's faintly wild gaze fell on the coffee pot. His eyes lit up and he dove at the bench. "Ohhh, coffee…"

"Here." Berwald pushed his coffee across the bench, then set about making more as Tino practically devoured the mug. "How 'bout breakfast? Can make bacon n'eggs if ye like."

Tino raised an eyebrow over the coffee mug. "It's three p.m."

"Greasy food'll settle yer stomach."

Tino looked slightly suspicious of that, but he nodded an agreement and took a tall seat at the bench. "Okay. Thank you."

Berwald really shouldn't feel such a flutter in his stomach at a simple thanks. He took bacon, eggs and tomatoes from the fridge, placed them on the bench, then opened a drawer to grab the pan.

"I'm still…" Tino trailed off, staring at the counter uncertainly. "I'm still a bit worried. Last night was fun, but... I really don't know what I'll do if we lose this place."

Berwald really shouldn't want desperately to pull Tino into his arms every time he looked uncertain like that. "It's okay. I'll take care of ye."

Tino looked for a moment like he was about to roll his eyes and laugh, but he bit his lip as though to stop it. "That's a very odd thing to say, you know."

Berwald felt the back of his neck burning. Of course it was odd. He concentrated on placing the bread in the toaster. "Sorry."

Tino shook his head. "Don't be. You sort of – fit here, Berwald. Like, you balance the rest of us out, you know?"

Fit here – it was the second time he'd heard that today. Berwald could have laughed. He'd never fit anywhere. To hear it about a place like this... He wasn't sure if Tino was completely wrong, or absolutely correct. He also didn't know how to respond, so he focused intensely on oiling the pan and adding the bacon and chopping the tomatoes and cracking the eggs and...

Tino let out a sudden burst of laughter. Berwald looked up in confusion. "What?"

"You're the Swedish Chef." Tino smiled as he said it, leaning on the bench with his chin on his hand, his violet eyes sparkling.

Berwald felt a smile on his own lips. He was getting used to these random statements Tino came out with. The Swedish Chef… Berwald remembered watching the 'The Muppets' with his father when they first moved from Sweden. It became a sort of ritual, to turn the television on every Friday evening and laugh at how silly the stereotype was. Berwald never did understand how the Chef was supposed to be Swedish – he actually always thought he sounded more Norwegian. Regardless, the mention brought back fond memories. "Well, I don't have the mustache, but... " Berwald reached for the tall, white chef's hat - most likely Denmark's - which always hung inexplicably above the stove. He flattened it slightly and placed it on his head. "I've got th'hat."

Tino's eyes widened, incredulous, then his smile grew to a grin. He picked a pink dishcloth off the bench, tied it into bow, and reached over to tuck it into Berwald's collar. "And the bow tie."

Tino's hands lingered on Berwald's collar; their eyes locked for the slightest second too long. Berwald wondered madly if Tino remembered anything of their conversation in the bedroom the night before. Tino eventually dropped his gaze, his cheeks red. Strangely desperate to keep this odd conversation alive, and feeling some long-dormant playfulness begin to emerge, Berwald determinedly picked up a spoon and a spatula from the drawer. Swedish Chef. He could do Swedish Chef. He was Swedish, damn it.

"Yorn desh born, der hur de disk der du, ye borsh dee born desh de umn…" Berwald gestured wildly with the implements as he sang the nonsense words, then tossed the spoon into the air to crash into the bench behind him. "…bork bork bork!"

Tino stared in utter shock before bursting into a fit of hysterical laughter. "Oh my God! How do you even…" He shook his head in astonishment and practically bounced on his seat. "Do it again!"

Berwald felt his chest swell with some silly sort of pride at Tino's reaction. "Noo, today vee goona hurdy burdy eggsky orn de born bork." Berwald reached for the pan. "Yoo plece-a zee eggs in zee pun, den smakar skit hur de squeer de eggsky…" Berwald proceeded to splatter an unfortunate egg enthusiastically with the spatula. "Smakar de eggsky…"

Tino's eyes shone as he clapped a hand to his chest and bent over the bench laughing. "That's perfect, Berwald! You can do Swedish Chef!" Tino was laughing. Tino had the most beautiful laugh in the world and he was laughing because of him. Berwald hadn't felt his chest so light in years.

"Den yuoo meke-a squeer-a yuu…" Berwald let an egg fall and smash on the bench. He shrugged and picked up another. "A ver de gurdy eggsky, inne go de poot." He dropped the second egg, then the spatula, then knocked the bottle of oil into the sink. Finally he successfully cracked an egg into the pot. "Eggsky, inne go de poot."

Tino put both hands to his face. He managed to look completely stunned and utterly wracked with laughter at the same time. Berwald felt like his heart was going to burst out of his chest. He forgot about his worries, about eviction, about everything, because Tino was adorable, and perfect, and he was laughing with him. Berwald felt like he'd done nothing but unintentionally scare Tino since he arrived; now, he wanted nothing more than to keep him laughing.

"Noo, vee goona…"

"OI!"

Berwald froze, hands in mid-air, and Tino broke off laughing. Denmark stood in the doorway, arms folded and an annoyed expression on his face. "No one does Swedish Chef in this house but me."

There was a brief pause, then Tino and Berwald both burst into laughter. Denmark's mouth fell open. "Holy shit. Norge, baby, get the camera! Sweden's laughing!"

Norway pushed Denmark out of the way. "I told you he wasn't a robot," he said, grabbing a piece of toast from the toaster.

"Terminator," Denmark explained. "I said terminator."

"Oh, great, food!" Iceland also pushed Denmark out of the way while heading for the bench. "I'm starving."

Berwald shrugged and took five plates from the cupboard. He was a little disappointed at being interrupted. But then Tino smiled at him, laughter still in his eyes. "Come on, Den, don't be mad - Berwald is the Swedish chef. If anything, you're the Danish Chef."

Denmark looked contemplative as he leant against the egg-splattered bench. "The Danish chef, hey? I like that. I bet the Danish Chef can kick the Swedish Chef's ass. I bet his moustache is even bigger." Denmark's eyes lit up as he nodded, a look of dawning illumination on his face. "Yeah. He probably has, like, twelve Michelin stars. Shit, there's a wait list of six months to get into the Danish Chef's restaurant." Denmark slammed a hand on the bench. "The Swedish Chef wishes he were as culinarily awesome as the Danish Chef!"

Norway raised an eyebrow. "What's his specialty dish? Mixing an olive with a bottle of akvavit, drinking the lot, then passing out on the front lawn?"

Tino laughed loudly. "How about the Norwegian Chef? Tells the Danish Chef to get his ass in the kitchen and cook his damn dinner."

"Or the Finnish Chef," said Iceland, winking at Tino. "Forgets the stove is on and burns down the kitchen."

Tino looked slightly offended. "Hey, that only happened twice."

"Ye make good coffee," said Berwald. Yes, all he did was pour hot water over instant mix then add a metric ton of sugar, but still.

Tino broke into a wide grin. "You see! Berwald believes in my culinary abilities!"

Denmark snorted loudly. "That's because he's in love with you." Norway threw a piece of toast at Denmark's head. "What?" Denmark whined. "It's not like it isn't completely obvious to everyone in a ten mile radius. Uh oh, was rule number nine followed here, Swedish Chef? Did these eggs have smiley faces before you deprived them of their shells and smashed them on the bench?"

Berwald was certain his face was burning red. Norway started serving from the pan; Iceland reached across the bench for the toast. No one seemed to notice Denmark's throwaway, inescapably true observation.

Tino rolled his eyes. "Den, considering the way you've blown our money, I think we're entitled to your eggs."

Denmark winked and wagged his eyebrows. "Only Norway's entitled to my eggs."

"Urgh." Tino looked at the eggs on his plate and shuddered. This time Iceland threw toast at Denmark's head.

Norway dropped a plate of eggs and toast in front of the giggling Dane. "Shut up and eat."

Berwald placed the bacon from the pan onto a plate. "There's bacon too."

Denmark shook his head and raised a hand, palm outwards. "I don't eat bacon, for religious reasons."

Berwald's eyebrows flew up in surprise. "Religious?"

Denmark nodded proudly. "I am an observant frisbeetarian."

At Berwald's puzzled look, Tino explained. "When you die, your soul gets stuck on the roof, like a frisbee."

Berwald was beyond questioning. "'f course."

Denmark nodded fervently. "When you've examined all the options it just makes sense. I have some literature you may be interested in seeing…"

The conversation continued as they ate, and it wasn't long until a strange semblance of normality settled over the kitchen. Everyone even stayed to help clean up, something Berwald had never seen happen since he moved in. Just as they were putting away the last of the clean plates, a knock sounded at the door. Iceland jumped up quickly. "I'll get it."

Denmark shouted after him. "I'm not in the country."

Moments later Iceland shouted from the front door, harsh panic in his voice. "LUKAS!"

The warm, comfortable atmosphere shattered. Denmark knocked over his chair, Tino turned white, and Norway simply ran before Berwald even had time to wonder at the unfamiliar name.

Following the other's frantic rush, Berwald's stomach turned and his nerves stood on edge when he reached the front room. The front door was open, Iceland already halfway back across the room. And standing in the doorway, his hand holding back the door and that eternal smile on his lips, stood Ivan Braginski. Norway marched furiously towards him. "Get out."

Ivan ignored him and took a step inside. "We need to have a conversation."

Norway practically growled as he drew to a stop between Ivan and Iceland, fists clenched and shoulders tense. "I said, get the fuck out."

"I do not wish to speak with you," said Ivan flippantly. He stood easily in the room as though he belonged there. "I wish to speak with Mr Køhl…"

"Don't you dare utter that name in this house, Russki!" Denmark shouted as he stormed across the room. Norway stopped him with a hand to his chest.

Instinct kicked in and Berwald drew himself to his full height, blood rushing to his head. He had no idea what the Russian was doing here, but Berwald had seen what this man could do when angry, and he doubted anyone in this house had the slightest idea how dangerous this could get. Berwald's eyes darted towards Tino, who stood uncertainly beside him, silent and observing.

Ivan simply looked amused. "If you insist… Denmark. I hear you are still harassing my friends."

Denmark snarled. "Your little minions approached us, Russia. And any friend of yours is an enemy of mine." Norway's hand was the only thing restraining Denmark from charging. Iceland stood behind Den and Norway, arms drawn to his chest.

Ivan simply waved a hand, visibly unconcerned by the heavy tension in the room. "That is the least of my concerns. I am much more worried for your financial situation."

Berwald could sense everyone in the room stare in confused silence. How could Ivan possibly know about that? Denmark's furious expression faltered. "I don't know what you're on about, Russki."

Ivan clasped his hands before him; he was acting like they were having a pleasant conversation about the weather. "It has come to my attention that you are on the point of eviction, yes?"

Denmark looked stunned. "Wha... huh..." He turned furious again. "What are you still doing here? Get the fuck out of my house!"

Berwald squared his shoulders and felt his hands twitch. If Denmark started a fight, the stupid Dane could not finish it on his own. Ivan obviously knew this. "But it is not your house, Denmark. And so you see my problem. If you can not even pay your rent, how are you ever going to pay the debt you owe me?"

Berwald's blood froze. He felt sick. "Den. Ye don't have a debt with Ivan?"

"What? It's just a little something I owe from poker..."

Berwald put a hand to his head and let out a long breath. Denmark owed Ivan. This was not good. This was beyond not good. This was disastrous...

Ivan sounded like he was having the time of his life. But of course – the Russian loved to terrorise people. "My friend Berwald here can tell you quite well what a little quandary you are in."

Berwald glared furiously. To play his games in the worst parts of town with the worst men in the city was one thing. But this was just a house of kids - crazy and stupid kids, yes, but innocent nonetheless. What the hell was Ivan doing playing these games with them? "Ye've got him on rising interest, don't ye, Ivan? Th'type he can never pay back."

Denmark interrupted. "What's the big deal, I've got a debt with the bank too..."

"The bank just takes yer money," Berwald snapped. "Th'Russian takes..." Berwald trailed off as Ivan's smile twisted cruelly. Everything… But this time, Berwald was not going to let him get away with it. He drew himself up, took two threatening steps forward, and narrowed his eyes. He never needed to do much to convey an aura of intimidation. The others watched in silent anticipation. "Ye're a gamblin' man, Ivan. Let's play fer this."

Ivan waved a hand at Denmark dismissively. "I've played this child. He is an extraordinarily untalented card player. I am done with him."

"What the hell does that… arghl…" Norway silenced Denmark with a swift kick.

Berwald raised his chin. "Then play me. Or try."

Ivan's cold eyes flashed, his expression a dark warning behind his fake, ever-present smile. "Oh Berwald. I thought you'd put all that behind you. Besides, I've had my fun with you." He lowered his eyes and smirked. "I see you still wear your father's watch. I wonder what the old fool would think if he could see you now."

Berwald dug his nails into his palm, forcing himself to contain the anger that boiled in his chest. "Cards, Ivan." He almost shouted the words. "You and me. If I win, ye drop Den's debt, and ye pay us the int'rest. If I lose, I'll take on Den's debt m'self."

"Wait a minute…" Denmark started.

"Hold mund," spat Norway.

Ivan tapped his chin as he considered. "I pay you the interest? That is quite a considerable sum. You would be able to pay your rent and stay in this house. But even if you do take on this silly boy's debt, what incentive is in it for me?"

Berwald spread his hands. The old negotiation came back easily. "Come on, Ivan. I know th'games ye like to play. Ye were determined t'destroy me once, but look... I'm still standin'." Berwald smirked, bared his teeth, and raised a shoulder. "Care t'try again?"

For a brief moment, as they glared at each other across the room, Berwald thought he had won. But the moment Ivan's gaze fell on Tino, Berwald realised the enormous mistake he had just made.

"Do you know…" said Ivan slowly, his evil smile lighting up his entire face. "This could be fun."

Berwald tried frantically to backtrack. "Actually, I…"

Ivan just grinned gleefully. Berwald started to wonder if the Russian had planned this the entire time. "Poker, I assume? Given the unskilled players, perhaps the simple old five card draw might be best. We'll start with a low buy-in."

"Look, maybe there's another…"

"Of course, I insist you all play." Ivan glanced towards Iceland, who drew his arms closer to his chest and looked away. "I even leave it to you to choose the dealer."

Denmark tried to rush forward angrily, but was again stopped by Norway. "Oh, we'll be there, Russia. We'll be there, and we're gonna kick your ass, du er et røvhul…"

Berwald closed his eyes briefly. He would have a hard enough time defeating Ivan on his own. But if the others played… if Denmark played… Oh, God, what had he done?!

"Wonderful!" cried Ivan, clapping his hands together delightedly. "Saturday night, shall we say? I look forward to it!" Then he snickered softly, winking at Berwald. "I knew you'd come back."

Ivan swept towards the door, leaving five angry, stunned, silent Scandinavians behind him. But just before he reached the door, Ivan paused and tilted his head. "Who are they?" he asked, nodding towards Faeroe and Greenland asleep on the couch.

"Our pets," replied Denmark simply.

Ivan's eyebrows shot up. He looked rather impressed. "Kinky."

The moment Ivan closed the door behind him, Norway fixed Berwald with a furious glare. "All right, Swedish Chef. What have you gotten us into?"

Tino interrupted before Berwald could respond furiously. "Berwald didn't get us into this mess, Norway. He's just given us a way to get out of it."

"With poker?" Norway laughed. It was strangely terrifying. "Poker's the reason we're in this mess!"

"No," said Iceland firmly. He still looked a little shaken, but also grimly determined. "We only played that stupid game to try and beat Ivan. And we failed, spectacularly. But maybe…" Iceland looked at Berwald appraisingly. "Maybe with Sweden we can win."

Norway raised his chin. He didn't look convinced. "Well, Sweden? Yesterday you said that no one wins against Ivan. And now you think you can beat him?"

Berwald shifted uncomfortably as four sets of eyes regarded him curiously. Oh, God… what had he gotten into? "I…" He looked from Norway's challenging stare, to Iceland's confident gaze, to Denmark's still vaguely angry look of bewilderment. "I think…" Then Berwald looked at Tino: his resolute expression, his trusting, eyeliner-stained eyes. If Berwald could beat Ivan, they could stay in this house. This was his only chance; the only chance he had to stay with the only person he loved. Berwald took a deep breath and returned Norway's stare. "I think I'm th'only one who can."

Denmark suddenly broke into manic laughter. "Fuck, yes! I am IN!"

Iceland grinned. "Hell yes. Let's teach that son of a bitch a lesson."

"You can do it." Tino nodded, smiling. "I know you can, Berwald."

Norway just raised an eyebrow perceptively. "I hope you're ready for this, Sweden. For your sake."

Berwald ignored what that might mean. He ignored what he already knew: Ivan played dirty, and he liked to destroy people, and he knew just how to do it. But Berwald knew how to fight back. This time, he had a reason to fight back. "Ye can all play poker, right?"

Denmark, Norway and Iceland all agreed. Only Tino shook his head. He smiled up at Berwald, earnest and dishevelled and beautiful. "Will you teach me?"

.

"And this is four'f a kind. Tough t'beat."

Berwald placed the cards down and Tino studied them carefully. They sat opposite each other on Tino's bedroom floor, the bright lamps casting soft shadows on the bedspread behind them. Quiet music Berwald did not recognise played from tiny speakers beside Tino's desk. This was still the cleanest, brightest room in the house, though Berwald was grateful he no longer had to sleep in the tiny alcove in the corner. Tino tapped his chin thoughtfully as he stared at the cards. He had picked things up amazingly fast so far. "Four of a kind. Tough to beat. You can beat it, though?"

Berwald nodded. "Yes. There's only one hand ye can't beat."

Tino looked up, interested. Berwald noticed that his violet eyes seemed darker in the lamplight. "What's that?"

"This one." Berwald took five cards from the deck and lay them out on the carpet, one by one. All hearts: Ten, Jack, Queen, King, Ace. Berwald gestured a hand over them. "Royal flush. Hearts. Can't beat't."

Tino looked amused at that. "So, hearts is highest?

"Yes."

Tino gave a tiny laugh, lowering his head so that his hair fell in his eyes. "That makes sense."

Berwald felt his heart skip in his chest, and wondered when the room had become so warm. He tugged at his shirt collar and quickly focused on reshuffling the cards. These little moments with Tino were the best of Berwald's life. Berwald wasn't sure if that said more about the kind of life he had lived, or about how desperately infatuated he was with this beautiful Finn. Either way, it was both scary and wonderful at the same time.

"Where did you learn to play?"

"M'father taught me."

Tino tilted his head, his eyes connected with Berwald's. No one had ever listened to Berwald as earnestly and as honestly as Tino always did. "For fun, or…"

Berwald understood Tino's unasked question. Tino knew some of Berwald's unpleasant past by now. Perhaps it was time to explain it a little more – after all, Berwald trusted Tino to hear it. Even if he was scared of how he would react. He took a very deep breath, tapped his cards against the ground, and began.

"My mother died when I was fourteen. We moved from Sweden the next year – I think Dad was trying t'escape the memories." At first Berwald faltered over the words. They quickly became easier, however, until he barely remembered that he found speaking uncomfortable. "But once we got here, everthin' just got – worse. He struggled t'adjust to th'different life. He couldn't speak English, so he couldn't get a job. There was only one thing he ever thought he was good at – poker. He found places to play, people in th'business. It's not hard when ye know where t'look. I'd go with him t'play, and he taught me. And he was good – not th'best, but he won more than he lost. He made enough t'buy us a small house, t'buy me books fer school. Sometimes if he had a good night he'd come home with beer and marshmallows and those disgustin' pickled herrings he liked so much."

Berwald almost smiled, then broke off at the painful memories. He was not used to speaking so much, especially about something so personal, and in some strange way he was not sure if he was doing it correctly. Tino, however, watched him as though engrossed, silent, still clutching his hand of cards. He was the first person Berwald had ever spoken to of these things. He was the first person Berwald had ever cared enough to speak to of such things. Berwald took another deep breath before continuing. "Like I said, he was good. Th'other players were scared of him, I think - scared of us. There was only one man who wasn't. Who spoke to us, and helped us."

Tino's eyes widened. "Ivan."

Berwald nodded. "Braginski was only young – not much older than me. But he was already unbeatable. He said he would help us. Ev'ry time we lost, the Russian would lend us money. But ev'ry time we won, he would raise th'interest. Eventually, we couldn't keep up. When we lost everythin', again, my father lost hope. He drank too much. He got sick, but he wouldn't stop drinkin'. Eventually, it killed him." Berwald stopped again. Why was he saying this? Surely he was only bothering Tino, surely he was only making him uncomfortable, surely…

Berwald's thoughts fell to pieces when Tino's hand reached out and brushed his. It was only quick, a brief touch of sympathy, and it was over before Berwald could be sure he felt it. When Berwald's thoughts flew back together, Tino was already fidgeting with the cards in his fingers. "Do you know that your accent has grown lighter? I'm sorry. I just noticed. Please continue."

Berwald nodded and, with a racing heart and a burning hand, continued. "After he died, I found out just how much debt he had with the Russian. Found out when I went to a gamblin' house t'visit a 'lawyer' – a man'f the Russians. He showed me a document signed by my father." All of Berwald's emotions swung abruptly to anger, just remembering that moment. The moment he found out just how deeply his father had been used and betrayed by Ivan Braginski. The moment Berwald had snapped completely.

"Th'paper showed that my father had signed everythin' we owned over to Braginski. Our house, our savings... everythin'. But it wasn't th'house and th'money that mattered – it was how the Russian treated him. My father could barely speak English. He certainly couldn't read it. He would've had no idea what he was signing. I tried t'explain, but it didn't matter. It was legal, and it was done."

Tino's expression was frozen in dismayed disbelief, though his hands still fidgeted restlessly with the cards. "My God. That's awful. What did you do?"

Berwald paused, rubbed his neck, and answered slowly. "I got… angry."

Tino's fingers stopped moving and his eyebrows drew together in confusion. "You? Angry?"

Berwald looked at the floor. Tino did not need to know. He did not need to know how Berwald had grabbed the crooked, underground lawyer by the collar, had punched him over and over and over again, had viciously slammed the man's head onto the desk. Tino did not need to know how Berwald had overturned the furniture, thrown chairs against the wall and smashed the windows, had almost destroyed the dirty backroom office before the police charged through the door.

Tino did not need to know how Berwald faced charges of grievous bodily assault, property damage, theft, and a dozen other offences Braginski managed to level at him. Tino did not need to know how Berwald had spent a year in prison only to come out hated by society, with nowhere to go and no prospects, and had fallen back into the one thing he knew how to do – cards. Yes, he had found the groundskeeper job at the university, in no small thanks to former gambler Professor Beilschmidt's generous help, but the fact remained – Berwald had never been able to stay away from that sleazy world of underworld gambling for long. But Tino did not need to know that; so Berwald just shrugged offhandedly. "Yes. Did things I'm not proud of. Things I'll never do again."

Tino nodded. That seemed to be enough explanation for him, and thankfully he did not press further. He just said, again, "I'm sorry. It sounds like your father really tried – like he cared about you."

"Yeah." Berwald wondered why he didn't feel anxious about the words he had spoken to Tino. Instead, he just felt relieved.

Tino let out a long breath. "So Ivan really took everything from you?"

His savings, his house, his father… Berwald relaxed his clenched fists. "Yes."

"You kept this, though." Tino reached out and gently took Berwald's antique pocket watch from his front pocket. He smiled as he looked at it, and Berwald followed his gaze, swallowing heavily at the growing tingling sensation from Tino's fingers against his chest. The long black hands of the watch read seven o'clock against the worn gold setting.

"Yes," said Berwald quietly. The watch meant more to him than anything he had ever owned. "This is mine. He'll never have it."

Tino's eyes grew slightly distant. "You're very lucky, you know. Having something to remember your father like this. All my dad gave me when he kicked me out was bus fare."

Berwald looked up sharply. Again, he felt a wave of fierce anger for someone he'd never even met. How could anyone do that to Tino? Then Berwald remembered Denmark's broken conversation in the study earlier. How could anyone do that to their child – to someone they loved? Berwald's father might not have been perfect, but he loved Berwald. At least he had that.

Before Berwald could think of a way to respond to Tino's harrowing words, Tino drew back his hand. "Thank you for telling me that, Berwald," he said softly. "I suppose everyone has their pain and their regret - no matter how strong they appear." Tino looked down at the cards in his left hand, his eyes a little sad and unsure, then laid them down carefully on the carpet. "So, I have these five..." Tino gestured over the four, five, six, seven, and ten; all of different suits.

Berwald looked down at the cards and raised his eyebrows. He was grateful that Tino knew exactly when to change the subject. "An interestin' hand. Ye need to throw in th'ten."

Tino bit his lip thoughtfully. "And hope for an eight, yes?

"Yes. Unlikely, but ye'll win if ye do."

Tino picked up the ten, tossed it in the centre, and watched as Berwald dealt him out another. He picked it up and smiled. "Guess what?" Tino flicked the card around between his fingers - a black eight of spades.

Berwald smiled back. What a lucky catch… "Catch perfect."

Tino tilted his head. "Huh?"

Berwald nodded at the eight of spades. "To get the one card ye need t'win. T'complete the set of five. Catch perfect."

Tino laughed softly. "Catch perfect. I like that." He brushed the hair from his face; his hand strong but soft, his hair like falling silk. Berwald shook his head and told himself to stop with the similes. After all, he could not compare Tino to anything – there was nothing perfect enough to compare him to. All Berwald could do was accept that he had never loved anyone like Tino, would never love anyone like him, and that if Berwald lost him now, he would lose the only thing he'd ever had worth losing. Berwald had always bet with nothing much to lose. Now, with an upcoming game against the only man he had ever hated, Berwald realised.

This time, he had everything to lose.

.

Disclaimer: This story belongs to George deValier. Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya. I own nothing.