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danafeelingsick · 2 years

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sɪᴄᴋ sᴄᴇɴᴀʀɪᴏ #5

sɪᴄᴋ ᴀᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴀɪʀᴘᴏʀᴛ: sʜᴏʀᴛ sᴛᴏʀʏ

ᴀᴏ3 sʜᴏʀᴛ sᴛᴏʀɪᴇs ᴄᴏʟʟᴇᴄᴛɪᴏɴ

ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴᴇᴅ ᴀᴇʀᴏᴘʜᴏʙɪᴀ

Their flight was late. A and B decided to seat on a nearby bench and have a small snack while they waited. A returned with a bottle of water to find B munching on a donut they bought for them, struggling to swallow what they already had in their mouth.

They thought of the way B would rub at their belly through the whole ride there as if trying to soothe an ache, and they started to worry. They knew how much B hated flying.

“How's your food?”, A asked sheepishly as they sat beside them, eyeing B's face white as a sheet.

“It's... good...”, they mumble, a few pink sprinkled crumbles of fried dough falling out their mouth. “It's... ugh... actually.”

“You don't want it?”, A interjected, knowing full well what they were going to say. B just nodded, looking guilty as they handed the treat over. “Is it that bad?”

“No, it's good, it's just too sweet. I'm sorry...”, they tried to explain, a hand going back to rest on their stomach. “I just don't think my stomach has settled yet...”

A hummed as they took a bite out of the half-eaten donut, almost grimacing at the overly sweet taste and the slimy texture of the filling. It was gone in two huge bites.

“Sorry I forgot your motion sickness meds...”, they said, cleaning their hands on the napkins and putting them aside. “Could've spared you a lot of trouble.”

“Ugh... Don't worry, it was my fault. I forgot to pack it”, B frowned, looking at some spot lost in the ground.

“Well, I bought some more. Let's just hope it'll work on the flight”, A chuckled dryly, stopping instantly when they saw B lean forward, both hands on their stomach. “Are you alright, B?”

“Ugh... Please don't mention the flight”, they begged, clenching their eyes shut. “I don't wanna get sick before I have to...”

“Oh, shoot”, A said under their breath, laying a gentle hand on B's back. “Are you feeling sick already? Think it could've been the food?”

“No... Ugh, I think I'm just nervous”, they panted, sitting up straight, not daring to look B in the eye. “My stomach hurts...”

“Awn, B...”, they said, rubbing their back up and down, they shuddered under their touch, one of the telltale signs. “I think we should move to the restroom. Just in case you... you know?”

B remained in silence for a few seconds, slow shallow breaths escaping them in irregular intervals. “Yeah... let's– let's go.”

A stood up first, shoving the napkins they left behind in their pockets and getting the bottle of water. Their hand hovered over B's shoulder, just in case they needed the support while they limped to the toilet.

There was no emergency in their movements, not until they reached the stall. B opened the door, raised the seat, and immediately knelt before it. They were struggling to breathe, swallowing constantly as they tried to fight nausea.

A closed the stall door behind them, kneeling beside B, shushing them when a strangled burp tried to pry itself away from their lips.

“It's bad, huh? But don't try to fight it...”, they commented, unsure of what else to say. “It's best if you just get it out here, rather than on the floor of the plane when we're boarding.”

To that B gave a pleading whimper, keeping their mouth shut even as a burp reverberated in their throat, almost like a frog fighting to free itself.

“Please...”, they gasped, a thick trail of saliva falling out of their mouth. “Stop talking about the plane, I don't want to... think about it... I don't want to.”

“I-I'm sorry B”, A murmured, feeling guilt weighing on their shoulders. “I won't. Just... uh, focus on, you know, getting better.”

B was trying, they swore they were trying, but they couldn't bring themselves to open their mouth, to just allow themselves to be sick. In their head, they thought they could still stop this from happening, that they somehow could hold onto whatever was causing them to get this nauseous.

But no matter how much they tried, the cause of it was their own worry. The way their heart was beating so fast it felt like a hammer to the inside of their chest, pressing on all their inner organs, building up some pressure they could barely breathe.

It was a matter of moments before their mouth filled with a scorching thick liquid, making their cheeks bulge out, their eyes widen. They felt A's hand rubbing slow smooth circles onto their back, and while it gave them a warm sense of familiarity, it also served to only push them further into nausea.

B felt their stomach jump, pushing more acidic slurry into their mouth, into their airways, and out their nostrils. They couldn't keep holding it.

“You're alright B, it's fine, just let it happen”, A coxed, applying more pressure on their back. “You'll feel much better if you just let it out, I promise.”

B took the words to heart, mustering all the courage to open their mouth, allowing a heavy splatter of lumpy pale vomit to fall into the toilet water. Just in time for their stomach to push out another thick rush of undigested breakfast and chunks of fried dough. They gurgled as they felt it come out of their nose, coughing harshly to try and expel it.

A did the best they could to look away, seeing the barely chewed pieces of the donut they had eaten half off made their stomach cower. They winced every time B coughed, feeling their muscles shifting under their hand.

“There you go...”, they choked out, lightly tapping B in the back, to which they could only gasp in response. “You're doing great.”

B had a few seconds of breathing room before they started gagging again, their stomach clearly not content with expelling what they had eaten for breakfast, it started tapping into last night's dinner. B heaved continuously, feeling more vomit traveling up their esophagus, trying to choke when a trickle of murky stomach acid dripped into the toilet. It took a few more harsh gags to get them to properly vomit.

Whatever they had eaten for dinner fell into the water, now an acidic slurry of some odd purplish-brown color they couldn't quite place. Mercifully, that meant their stomach was finally empty, but to their horror, they didn't feel better one bit.

“Think you're done, B?”, A asked as B shakingly spat into the toilet, waiting for a nod or anything they could take as confirmation, but B just kept breathing harshly, small unproductive gags keeping them from relaxing. “B?”

“I- I can't...”, they panted, interrupted by an unproductive gag. “A, I can't... I don't feel better at all. I don't feel good.”

B started sobbing, tears trailing their cheeks as their gags turned into gurgling. They had no warning before a final wave of vomit left their mouth, spraying over the toilet seat, little of it actually hitting the bowl.

A swore under their breath as they went to guide B back to leaning over the toilet, trying to curb what little damage they still could. B was vomiting profusely, sobbing, and nearly choking on the volume expelling out of their throat, there wasn't much they could do except watch out for them.

“Shh, it's okay B. I'm here...”, they whispered gently. “Don't worry about the flight, alright? I'll take you to the infirmary once you're done.”

The continuous splash of stomach contents eventually tapered off into more sobbing. B was a mess with vomit and snot running down their face, they felt like they could die at that exact moment, but A's words actually brought them some comfort.

“A-Are you sure?”, they squeaked out, turning to look at A who was digging through their pockets for the napkins they had stuffed there.

“Hm-hmm”, they affirmed, helping B clean their face. “Don't worry, okay? I'll take care of you.”

B swallowed a sob and nodded, feeling their eyes fill with tears once more.

#emetophilia #emeto #vomiting #tw vomit #tw airplanes #tw aerophobia #sickfic #short sickfic #whump writing #sick scenario #stress vomiting #emeto prompts #whump prompts #hurt and comfort #dialogue prompts #whump dialogue #dana//emeto fic #my writing

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weelittleweasley · 3 years

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Transfer Student | Draco x Reader

Prompt: After transferring from Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry to Hogwarts, all of Hogwarts’ eyes is on the new girl. An American Gryffindor? Everyone wants to be your friend, steal a glance from you, or ask you on a date. Can Draco resist the hype or will he end up all for the new girl?

Warnings: None! Just some fluff and longing looks from bitch boy Malfoy

Word Count: 3.4k

A/N: My requests box is very full oh my LORD. I’m trying to churn them out as consistency as possible, so if I skip a day with no imagines, it’s mostly for me to take a breather and catch up on my actual work for my job and school.

America was home, no matter where you were in the world. You grew up an American and lived your life with that culture and their customs. Going to school at Ilvermorny was a treat. Tucked away in the mountains in Massachusetts, it was your happy place, full of other kids from across America, studying magic. But things changed drastically when your father was offered a position at the Ministry of Magic overseas in London. Your parents were thrilled, a prestigious job in a new country; your father accepted the position, no question. You on the other hand were more nervous than anything. Moving meant new school, new friends, new start. Not to mention, if you moved within the country, you would still attend Ilvermorny. But now that you were moving overseas, it really meant a new start with a whole different school with a whole different body of students.

Your mother was insistent that you would be just fine starting at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. “Mom,” you insist, “I’m an American among a sea of people from the UK. I’m going to be a fish out of water. They’ll know the moment I open up my mouth!”

But there was no changing their minds. You were moving to London whether you liked it or not. So you had to say goodbye to all of your friends at Ilvermorny. Although you expressed your anxieties about moving and switching schools, the rest of your friends were jealous of your move. Saying how London was a beautiful city and they were so jealous of all the culture and events happening. It did seem exciting, you always wanted to visit Europe, but not like this.

Soon enough, you were on a plane to London from America, your things packed up and ready to ship you off to Hogwarts. When you arrived, your heart raced with excitement and nerves. London was a little grey and stormy, but it was still beautiful. People most melodically and dressed neatly. Men in suits, carrying around briefcases, heads tilted down as they ran to work. Women dressed cleanly and beautifully, walking to work, in and out of shoppes. Your mother gave your hand a squeeze as your father insisted you took the Tube to your new home.

London was very different from your hometown. Much more hustle and bustle with busy people, but its people were much kinder than Americans. Strangers offered you small smiles as you looked at your surroundings. As you arrived to your new home, you couldn’t help but feel out of place. Everything was different. Even the oven. You couldn’t think about how long it was going to take to get you adjusted to this life. You drag your suitcases into your room, flipping open the latches. “Don’t bother unpacking, honey,” your mom calls. “You leave for Hogwarts tomorrow, remember?”

Your stomach sinks. You couldn’t even get used to your new home because tomorrow you had to get used to your new life at Hogwarts.

The next morning, you arrived at the train station, confused as ever. Your mom and dad walked with you through the station, interrogating you on what to tell the Professors when they asked for your information at arrival. “My name is (Y/N), I’m the transfer student from Ilvermorny, I’m going to be a junior,” you start.

“You’re a sixth year student,” your father corrects. You look at him, confused. “The education system here is different, sweetie. You’ll technically be going into year six at Hogwarts.”

Sighing, you know that this was going to take some getting used to.

----

You watched your parents wave goodbye to you, your mother with tears in her eyes. Your heart drops, not wanting to leave your parents to go off to somewhere that was completely foreign to you. As the view of your parents fades, you walk through the train, looking for an empty stall to sit. People sat with groups of friends, laughing, picking up right where they left off. Why couldn’t you have been a first year student? This would have made things so much easier. As a sixth year, everyone had friend groups and you would have to wiggle your way into one.

Finally, you find an empty car and plop yourself down on the seat, laying your head back. Here’s to the start of a miserable year, you think to yourself. You play with the charm bracelet on your wrist that your mother gave to you when you started school at Ilvermorny. The bracelet had a Thunderbird charm on it, the mascot of your house at Ilvermorny, and the same house as you parents. You were a proud Thunderbird, but now you had to be sorted into a new house with a new breed of people. You only hoped that whichever house you were sorted into had the same type of people as Thunderbird did.

As you mindlessly play with the charms on your bracelet, the car that you sat in’s doors slid open. “Are you alone?” a blonde haired girl asks you, noticing you amongst the chaos of the cars around you. “Would you like some company?”

“That would be nice, actually,” you offer her a thankful smile.

The blonde haired girl sits down in the booth across from you, pushing all of her thick hair to one shoulder. “Your accent,” she notices, her eyes widening. “It’s American,” her dainty English accent points out as you blush in embarrassment. “It’s lovely.” You slightly smile and blush, silently thanking her. “Are you a transfer student from Ilvermorny?”

You nod, “Yeah, actually. My name is (Y/N), by the way. I’m a jun-I mean a sixth year student.”

“I’m Luna,” she shakes your hand politely. “I also a sixth year. Look! You’ve only been here for five minutes and you’ve already made a friend in your year!” Your heart swell at the word friend. At least you at Luna to tag along with. The two of you talk for a while, you telling her about America and why your family moved to England, confiding in her about your nervousness about the new school and making new friends. “I’m sure you’ll have no trouble making friends, (Y/N). Everyone at Hogwarts is very friendly. Besides, once you get sorted into your house you’ll make a ton of friends that way!” Your stomach churns. “Do you reckon what house you’ll be sorted into?”

Shaking your head, you reply, “Nope. Back at Ilvermorny I was a Thunderbird. But I don’t know if that means I’ll get sorted into a specific house at Hogwarts.” You reach into your backpack and pull out a pack of Fruit Roll Ups. “Want one?” you open the box to her as she gives you a hesitant look. “It’s good I promise,” you giggle. “If you don’t like it, you can force me to eat a gross British snack,” you tempt as she laughs before taking one from the box.

The two of you sit in the car, peeling open your Fruit Roll Ups, munching on the sticky snack. As you laugh at Luna getting it stuck in her teeth, another person comes to the car door, sliding open, making you yelp out scared, them surprising you. “What’s that?” the red headed boy asks, referring to the snack you munch on. You just look at him, bewildered that he just burst through, no introduction, no hello, no nothing. “Oh, hi Luna,” he smiles as Luna waves. The red headed boy looks at you. “You’re new,” he states as if you didn’t know. “I’m Ron Weasley,” he smiles at you warmly, making every bad thought about him leave your mind.

“(Y/N) (Y/L/N),” you reply before tossing the ginger a Fruit Roll Up. He catches it, eyes wide with excitement as he tears it open.

Ron sits next to Luna as he peels his Roll Up. “Your accent. You’re an American,” he points out as he looks to Luna who smiles sweetly.

You tease, “Really? I didn’t notice.” This makes Ron let out a chuckle before eating his Fruit Roll Up in two bites. “I’m a transfer from Ilvermorny.”

“Ron! Where did you go?” a voice calls from the hall. Suddenly, a girl with brown hair, wrapped in a stripped cardigan appears with a worried look on her face. It instantly relaxes when she sees Ron sitting next to Luna and you, wrappers in his hand from the Fruit Roll Up. “Ron, you can’t just interrupt two people’s conversation and then eat their snacks.”

Ron puts his hands up in defense. “She offered it to me!”

The girl rolls her eyes at his antics before walking into your car. The booth was getting awfully full very quickly. “I’m sorry about him. He has the mental capacity of a teaspoon,” she says, making Ron let out an offended hey! “I’m Hermione Granger. You are?”

You shake her extended hand with a smile. “(Y/N), I’m a transfer student fr-”

“Ilvermorny! I heard we were getting an American, but I didn’t believe it! Wow! It’s so nice to meet you,” she exclaims, scooting closer next to you. “Are you excited to be here? Which house do you think you’ll be sorted into? From what I’ve heard about you, you were a Thunderbird, correct? I reckon you’ll be a Gryffindor by the looks of it,” Hermione fires away. You were little taken aback by how forward she was, but you had to admit it was sweet.

All of your fears of not being able to make any friends slowly faded away.

----

It has been a week since you arrived at Hogwarts. As Hermione had predicted, you were sorted into Gryffindor, making her cheer out in delight. “Yay! More girls!” she hugged you tight when you entered the Gryffindor common room. “They can be much,” she refers to Harry and Ron behind her with a little giggle.

You had to say so far, you adjusted well to Hogwarts. You did miss your friends back home, but whenever you started to miss them, you found Hermione or Luna and they would always cheer you up and make you feel right back at home. Your classes were interesting, but hard at Hogwarts. Your Professors were all brilliant, some more intimidating than others. Regardless, you worked hard for your grades, doing study groups with Hermione, quizzing yourself with Luna, and spending countless nights in the library.

However, much to your surprise, you were the talk of the halls at Hogwarts. Whenever you were in the hallways, you would feel people’s eyes on you as you walked beside Luna, whispers throwing your name around. Your anxiety grew. What did people think of you? Did they think you were strange? Did they hate that an American was in the school?

It was actually quite the opposite. People were fascinated by you and how charismatic you were. You were kind to everyone, offering people smiles, making conversation in the Great Hall during meals, offering help with studying. You were the it girl of Hogwarts.

That was a new concept for you since you always blended in at Ilvermorny. Maybe it was time for a change. You were getting invited to parties, asked to hang out on weekends in Hogsmeade, and not to mention, you were a few people’s crushes. “Hi (Y/N),” Seamus waved at you with a shy smile.

“Hey, Seamus,” you smile back, brightly, unaware of his blossoming crush on you. His cheeks turned beet red as you wiggled your fingers back at him. Hermione laughs next to you as a bunch of Gryffindor boys in your year watch you walk down the hall, you tossing your hair over your shoulder. “What’s so funny, Granger?” you ask, pushing her shoulder lightly. “Is it so strange that I say hi to everyone in the halls?”

She just shakes her head. “Are you that blind?” she laughs. “(Y/N), nearly every boy in our year fancies you.” You furrow your brows. Hermione groans, knowing you didn’t understand her slang. “The boys all think you’re cute. They’ve got crushes on you.”

Rolling your eyes is disbelief, you enter your History of Magic class. “Yeah, right, Hermione. The day everyone has a crush on me is the day pigs fly,” you plop down in your chair, grabbing your book out of your satchel. “Besides, I’m sure it’s just the new girl crush. It’ll be over within the next week, I’m sure of it.”

Hermione looks at you knowingly. “(Y/N), you’ve been here for two months now.” You just ignore her comment and continue getting ready to take notes for class. “There’s no denying that you are the popular girl,” she teases you as you fake gag. “I’m serious. I dare you to flirt with anyone in here and see their reaction,” she whispers to you.

You look around the room to see who would be the person most likely to shoot you down if you flirted with them. Two desks over was Blaise Zabini sat next to Draco Malfoy. You smirked and nudged Hermione as if to say watch this. “Blaise?” you ask, his head shooting up to look at you. “I think I forgot my quill. Do you have one I could borrow?” you bat your eyes at him.

A cheeky grin comes across his face as he hands you the one in his hand. “Forgetful today?” he smirks as you giggle. “You can borrow my quill any day,” he winks at you as Hermione fake gags, making Zabini rolls his eyes.

“Why don’t you ask Granger for one next time? The mudblood is always prepared,” Draco speaks from behind Zabini.

Anger rises in your chest as Malfoy laughs about your best friend. “Why don’t you just keep your fat trap shut and cry to daddy about how much you hate this school, Malfoy? No one wants to hear it out of you, least of all me,” you spit before turning away to do your work. Hermione smiles as you, squeezing your hand. “See? Malfoy doesn’t have a crush on me!” you tell her, making her laugh.

Meanwhile, Draco glares at Zabini. “Don’t tell me you fancy the American girl too.” Zabini keeps his mouth shut, knowing what’s best for him. “What is everyone’s obsession with her? She’s American, not from outer space.”

Blaise shakes his head. “Come on, Malfoy. She’s proper fit, isn’t she? Not to mention, she’s quite cheeky and has good banter.”

Draco just slaps Blaise upside the head. “Oh, please,” he huffs. “There’s plenty of girls like that in this school. She’s not the only one.”

Throughout class Draco thinks to himself about what the entirety of Hogwarts’ student body saw in you. He ignored the lecture going on in the front of the classroom and dreamily watched you during class. You sat there, biting down on your lower lip gently in concentration, scribbling down notes as your nose scrunched up when a question came to mind. He could see the wheels churning in your head when you asked a question and then the lightbulb flick on when it was answered and it made sense. You let a small dance play on your lips when you answered a question correctly faster than Hermione. You hair flopped on head perfect as you pushed strands back as they fell. Your eyes twinkled with curiosity and playfulness like a child. Draco’s heart thumped a little louder when you let out a giggle when the professor made an awful joke. His heart nearly stopped when you looked over at him and caught his gaze, your cheeks taking a rosy hue as you looked away shyly. Draco didn’t look away for a second. He wanted you to know he was observing you. Shit, he silently thought as he felt his heart rate pick up when you sent a cheeky wink his way. He was caught.

You left class that day, a little pep in your step. You didn’t think much about people having a crush on you, but something about Draco Malfoy staring at you during class made you giggly. “What are you on about?” Hermione pokes your side. “I know you aren’t happy about that lecture, so spill.”

“Nothing,” you smile as you walk down the hall. “Can’t I just be happy?”

Hermione rolls her eyes. She had a feeling she knew what was happen, but rather than embarrass you about it, she kept to herself. “Alright,” she sing-songs.

------

The more time passed the more Draco found himself thinking about you and itching to get to class just so he could tune the professor out at steal longing glances at you. Sometimes you would catch him as he sent a little wink your way as you blushed. Sometimes he would catch you staring at him which gave him way too much satisfaction of knowing you liked him just as much as he liked you.

You had no problem talking to boys, but Draco was different. You didn’t talk to him much because you were too scared you were going to embarrass yourself in front of him.

But Draco on the other hand found any excuse to walk right up to you in the halls and strike up conversation. He would see you walk down the hall, his eyes zeroing in on, dismissing his friend group as he made his way up to you. He didn’t care who you were with whether it was Luna or Hermione. Draco just slid himself next to you with a sly, “Where are you off to, American girl?”

You did not try to stop the blush from appearing on your cheeks. “What’s it to you, Malfoy?” you tease as he laughs.

“I’d walk you there if you let me,” he suggested as you glanced to Luna or Hermione as they would fall behind to walk to class with Ron or Harry. “Ah, alone at last,” he’d tease as your friend walked away, earning a teasingly slap from you. “Don’t worry, I won’t try and pull anything on you.”

As you sat in another class of History of Magic, you doodled in your notebook. When the professor turned his back to write on the chalkboard, you see a small origami dove fly over to your desk. Curiosity gets the best of you as you peel it open to see a little note scribbled on the inside.

American Girl,

I need to ask you a very important question.

You look to your left to see Draco staring straight ahead at the board, but his eyes look towards you with a sneaky smile on his lips. You shake your head, a grin teasing your lips as you write back, And what would that be, Mr. Malfoy?

When the professor turns back around, you send the note back to him. You watch him scribble for a while, your curiosity eating away inside of you. Finally, he folds the note back up and send it your way quickly.

The note lands back on your desk as you ravenously open it, dying to know what the question was.

You. Me. Hogsmeade. This Saturday.

Your heart flutters and you want to giggle, but you hide your smile and scribble back coyly, That’s not a question, Malfoy.

Again, you send it back his way, watching him open it as you bite your lip to contain your smile as you pretend to pay attention to the class. From your peripheral vision, you watch him scribble back. The note lands back on your desk and you let it sit there for a second, making Malfoy sweat. You let a solid ten seconds pass before looking at the note, pretending to be shocked to see it on your desk, before peeling it open slowly as Malfoy lightly laughs, watching you do so.

So it that a yes?

You smile and write out as slowly as you possibly can. It’s a yes.

The note makes its way back to Draco’s desk as he catches it from the air, ripping it open. He smiles impossibly wider and laughs a “yes,” a little too loud for your professor to hear.

“Mr. Malfoy? Would you like to share something with the class?” your Professor asks.

Draco realizes that everyone’s eyes on him, including you as a deep shade of pink rises to your cheeks. Draco sends you a wink before standing up from his seat, your heart beating fast. What is he doing? “Actually, yes,” he retorts. “I’ve got a date with the new girl,” he declares. Girls all turn to you before immediately whispering to those around them as some boys groan and others cheer Malfoy on.

You just sit there, blushing like a fool. Hermione grabs your arm. “No way,” she speaks.

“You better believe it,” you whisper, eyes not leaving Draco’s as Zabini high fives him. Saturday could not come quicker.

#draco #draco imagine #draco malfoy #draco x female reader #draco x you #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy oneshot #draco malfoy fanficiton #draco malfoy x female reader #draco malfoy x reader #draco x reader #hp #harry potter #harry potter fanfic #harry potter imagine

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babytaes · 3 years

Text

Surprise

genre: fluff

pairing: sangyeon x reader

word count: 0.5K

↪ a/n: why is this gif of sangyeon so cute. major boyfriend vibes. :(

✧��ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

You dragged your luggage through the airport, sweating profusely and internally crying if you missed your flight.

You could say you were a bit of a late person, but you suppose you took pride in it. However, today was your last chance to fly back to Seoul. Unfortunately, your alarm went off two hours before your flight, and you were now frantically running around the airport, trying to maintain your composure.

“Y/N, you're going to be in big trouble if you don't catch this flight.” As you approached your station, a sigh escaped your throat.

You tried not to appear crusty, but the sweat stains on your shirt gave it away as you handed the lady your ticket. She looked at you with wide eyes as she took your ticket, checked it off, and waved you through the entrance.

Thanks to the fact that you had 30 minutes to spare, you could actually relax and maybe catch a bite to eat.

As you trudged through the crowded airport, you came across a small convenience store and went inside to get some food. You got some chips as you headed over to the snack aisle and afterwards went to the drink area to get some water and juice.

It wasn't long before the on-coms announced that the flight to Seoul was departing and that everyone was ready to board. You smiled as you walked out of the shop, thanking the cashier for your sweets, and continued to the gate, patting yourself on the back internally.

Ha, prove you wrong mom.

As you walked up the belt toward the plane, you merged into the crowd. As you reached for your cell, a ping went off in your pocket, and you smiled at the text message.

Jacob: Did you board yet…?

Y/N: Going right now, see y’all in 3 hours. :)

You put your phone down and hurried into the plane, looking for your seat. As you faced forward, your eyes caught a glimpse of someone. As you tapped the man on the shoulder, your hand flew to your mouth.

“What are you doing here, Sangyeon, what a surprise.”

Sangyeon quickly stood up and hugged you before moving to the side to allow others to pass.

“Well, I went to Busan to catch up with some colleagues, and now I have to return for some promotions.”

“What are the chances that we both get on the same plane at the same time?” you exclaimed, shaking your head.

He grinned as he shrugged his shoulders. You sighed when you remembered you needed to find your place.

When you told him that your seat was on the opposite side of the seating and that you needed to go, he nodded and returned his attention to his screen.

After that, he slapped his forehead and grabbed your shoulder, pulling you back toward him.

“I'm not sure if it's our lucky day, but I got a free seat next to me.” After putting your travel bag up over your head, you both laughed and quickly sat down.

“Thank you, I didn't feel like going all the way over there when you were already here. Also, how are The Boyz doing?”

He grinned at your remark and continued to speak with you, picking up where you left off a few weeks ago.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

➳ Navigate to the Maze

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losers-yurio · 4 years

Text

Road Trip With the Crue

Mick x Reader

the guys show up at your house with a weekend of fun planed

i honestly have no idea what this is-

and also warning bc its probably shit

But The first issue arose when loud banging on the door brought your attention to the front of the house. “Okay okay I'm coming calm yourself!” so both Mick and you lazily made your way to the door, it wasn't that unsurprising when you were met with the faces of your three idiotic friends. “Goddamnit, you three what part of ‘for the love of all that is holy please don't bother us this weekend’ did you not understand” although we had woken up a few hours prior, it was evident from his voice that Mick was still exhausted. Though you couldn't tell for sure if this was because he wanted to go back to bed or if the sudden appearance of his three band members had annoyed him, from prior experience you were almost certain that it was the second option you definitely understood why he was upset though, with all of the shows him and the guys had been doing the two of you hadn't really been able to spend much time together so this weekend was supposed to be catching up on all of the lost time. While on the one hand you absolutely adore Mick’s friends you were quite looking forward to your weekend together as well. “Well haven't heard why we’re here yet” Vince protested in an almost childlike manner.“Nope, not interested” stated in his usual monotone voice as he began to close the door, in response you reached your left arm out in front of him to stop the door from closing. He gave me an eye roll but said nothing more “now what were you boys going on about?” And so the guys (mostly Vince being the loudmouth that he is) told you about their plan which was as followed, the five of you were to leave at ten(which was horrible planning considering it was already nine) then stop at the nearest gas station for snack and drink essentials, from there you had a three-hour drive down to the amusement park. “No way, absolutely not” you looked over at mick who had a worried expression on his face, “guys we just need a minute to pack if that's alright” the three men nodded as I shut the door. “What, why not?” he looked at you with confusion “what happened to a nice quiet weekend at home?” “But when was the last time we went out for something other than a gig?” “I could say the same for staying home” “oh please Mick it could be fun!” “and if it isn't?” “ then I owe you big time” It wasn't long before we finished gathering what we needed for the trip and had packed it into the back of the van. While it was the band's van you really couldn't trust Vince, Nikki, or especially Tommy with the task of driving and Mick got to sit in the front because of his back issues. Tommy and Nikki were sitting together in the middle and Vince was in the very back with the luggage. Luckily the gas station wasn't that far from the house so we arrived in no time at all, the other three went inside to get the snacks which in hindsight was a terrible idea but hey they needed to get a bunch of moving around in before being cooped up. I had gotten out to refill the tank so we wouldn't have any issues on the road, which surprisingly didn't take very long so I had more time to talk with Mick.

“Are you really sure about this? We can just ditch now and walk home” there was a touch of amusement on his face as you looked at him “I'm sure, besides don't you think they'll just come and pester us at the house?” “we’ll just ignore them” you laughed and shook your head slightly Before I could say anything else the rest of the guys were hopping back into the van with a bunch of bags “for the lame-os,” Nikki said as he handed us two water bottles with a slight smile “I hope for your sake this isn't all you got for us bassist” Mick’s cold look had returned to his face “ um no of course not” I looked over to see a small smirk on Mick's face, what a man.

The trip was pretty smooth considering the party in attendance, with only 3 hours left I was honestly ready for the trip to be over. Both Nikki and Tommy were passed out, Vince was jamming quietly as to not wake the boys, upfront Mick had pulled out a book of his that he had been reading. At Least everything had been going well until the van sputtered to a stop. “Hey Y/N everything okay up there?” “Yeah Vin I think so, well actually..” “what happened?” by now Mick had looked up from his book “ well we’re out of gas” “huh that's weird I thought we just got some” “yeah I thought so too” you reached around and nudged the two sleeping men “huh what” Tommy answered groggily, “I thought I had the two of you fill-up the tank” “ I certainly wasn't, I thought Nikki did,” he said in an accusatory tone “well I thought you did it” “oh for the love of- you know what it's fine since this is both of your faults both of you get to walk the three miles back to the gas station” “fine” “and no distractions!” “you know we can't promise anything!” Tommy called back “idiots” mumbled Mick and you smiled

After about twenty minutes Mick started shifting more in his seat and making small grunting noises “hey are you good?” “yeah just my back acting up again, do you know where we put the other bottle of pills?” “I think it was in the backpack” a quiet “on it!” came from the back as Vince tossed the bag to me “thanks Vin”. “ um Mick they aren't in here” “ah damn I knew I forgot something” “hey its okay ill look for a drug store as soon as we get to the hotel and we can look for some store-brand pain killers” “ah ok, I just wish the guys would come back already” “I'm sure they'll be back soon” which wasn't entirely a lie as the two of them turned up ten minutes later with a full gas can and Tommy with suspiciously red lips. “And what kind of fun did you two get into?” “oh you know the usual” Tommy replied with a smirk “okay jus- just get in the van, Mick’s having back issues” “ah sorry man if it helps we got candy” “ill except it”

And so we were off once more. Thankfully Mick was able to fall asleep so he was able to get relief even if it was for just a couple hours. By the time you reached the motel, it was already dark out so you got the guys checked in and rushed over to the pharmacy with Mick for painkillers which was difficult until the guy realized you genuinely needed them. Then on the way back to the hotel to rest up the two of you were walking through the parking lot when some guy started yelling ”Hey old man hearing the noise both Nikki and Vince emerged from their shared room. Seeing what was happening Nikki immediately Joined the fray “Hey man that's totally not cool” “Yeah? And what are you going to do about it ninnyhammer?” “listen I have no idea what that means and I'm sure it was bad but regardless you said some shit about my guitarist and we can't have that now can we” you didn't see it coming but by the time you realized Nikki’s fist was already colliding with the guys face and he was being pulled to the ground. Immediately you rushed over to help tear them apart from each other. With the help of Vince, you managed to pull them apart “while I do appreciate the thought I would kill you if we got kicked out because we don't have anywhere else to go” The five of us ended up having a wonderful time at the park with no more incidents. In the morning we left bright and early much to the guy's dismay. Somewhere along the way, Vince had convinced me to let him drive and I promptly passed out for the rest of the trip. I awoke parked in our driveway with the guys talking “oh come on Mick, please? We’re still exhausted ``''Well that sounds like a you problem, not a me problem``'' what's the matter, guys?” “don't you dare ask them you know they'll say yes” “can we stay over for a few hours to catch up on some sleep?” “ of course you can, just don't cause any trouble” from your view Mick appeared to be rolling his eyes and the rest were high fiving. It was an odd bunch of people but they were your idiots and you wouldn't trade them for anything.

taglist: @makemeyourwife-loveofmylife

#Motley Crue #motley crue x reader #mick mars #mick mars x reader #my writing

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of-wrens-and-whirlwinds-blog · 4 years

Text

Come away with me

Commission for @cancerjournalsfortwentysmthings ! I’m so sorry this took so long, it’s past 5k words now. I hope it’s worth the wait!

If you would like to commission me, my info is in my about page!

CW: ableism, psychological abuse

The alcohol burned, but not as bad as the tears in his eyes.

Charles wasn’t even sure what he was saying anymore; something about love, something about loneliness, something about fearing death. All he knew was that finally, someone was listening to him.

Erik sat beside him quietly, listening, watching Charles. He hadn’t drunk any alcohol at all that night. He hadn’t been at the reunion, either. The class reunion—where everyone had brought their partners, or kids, or both, or stories of their adult dating. Charles hadn’t dated in six years. He had never married. He was falling behind and that frightened him.

“I’m gonna die alone,” he sobbed, “I’m gonna die alone and everyone is going to pity me and n-no one will care.”

Erik touched his shoulder softly. “That’s not true,” he said firmly. “Raven and I will care. Your students will care. Your son will care. And we won’t pity you just because you don’t have a partner.”

“I’m almost forty, Erik!” Charles burst out, looking at him and almost sobbing again. “No one will want me when I’m old!”

“Forty isn’t old,” Erik replied sharply. “You’re being an alarmist, Charles.” He paused, frowning in the way that meant he was thinking hard. Then he said, a little more gently, “Hey. You’re gonna have summer break from university, right? Why don’t you go somewhere nice? Like an actual vacation, not just shutting yourself away in your apartment for three months straight.”

“I… I don’t know where I would go,” Charles said, a little startled at how much the idea intrigued him. Just… get away. Hide somewhere safe. Maybe not for longer than two weeks, but definitely for a long time. It would have to be somewhere accessible; he couldn’t travel without his chair. That narrowed things down considerably.

“I’ll look for something,” Erik said firmly, and ran his fingers through Charles’ hair. “Just try to get through the last week of classes. You’ll be okay.”

Charles had no reason to believe Erik about being okay, but if Erik helped him look for something, Erik would find it. He was just wonderful like that.

Charles swallowed hard and nodded. “Alright,” he whispered.

The hangover was worse than he’d had in years. Charles grimaced and reached blindly for the glass of water he always left on his nightstand, and… encountered nothing. Fuck. He probably forgot after Erik left. He propped himself up on his elbows and looked around his room, eyes still blurred from sleep.

Everything was perfectly in place. Everything was normal. Except for the fact that Erik was sitting in his armchair, slouched and with his head propped on his hand, fast asleep.

Charles stared at him for a long moment. He rarely got to anymore. They were both busy, or with friends, or Erik would notice and Charles would have to think of a lie quickly. Erik was extremely handsome and Charles hardly ever got to admire that for long.

It wasn’t just his looks, though; he always denied it, but he wore his heart on his sleeve and his emotions on his face. The crinkles at the corners of his eyes, mostly from laughing; the lines around his mouth, some from smiling, most from his default grim state; and when he slept, his expressions were so free. Right now, he was having a nice dream—his brow was relaxed and his mouth curled up at the corners and his jaw was unclenched.

Charles felt the usual urge to touch him, perhaps kiss him. They hadn’t kissed since they were twenty-three, though. They’d moved on from such childish feelings.

Erik looked so peaceful. Charles wanted to cry.

Instead of crying, though, Charles got to work wiggling his way towards his chair. He still wasn’t the best at getting out of bed in the morning, but that hardly mattered; he’d been living alone for twenty years, he didn’t need to get up perfectly.

Erik woke up as soon as Charles got his feet placed right on the rest and straightened to grab his wheels. The taller man rubbed his eyes and grunted, “What time is it?”

“Six in the morning,” Charles replied. “Ah. Shouldn’t you have gone home?”

Erik shook his head. “No one waiting, might as well stay where I’m useful,” he answered. There was no pain in his tone or face, but Charles’ throat still caught. The divorce had been painful for everyone, but most of all for Erik and Magda. Charles had never gotten the full story of why they had broken up when they had been so very in love, and he didn’t really want to; it wasn’t his place to pry.

So instead, he said, “Right. Well… I’m going to get ready for work.”

Erik’s eyebrows snapped together. “You look like shit,” he said sharply. “How are you going to work with a hangover that bad?”

“It’s not the worst I’ve had,” Charles replied, fidgeting a little in embarrassment. “I can work.”

Erik continued to stare at him, eyes narrowed, inspecting his face. Then Erik stood, and said, “Fine. I’ll make breakfast.”

“Alright,” Charles said, a little weakly.

A shower was taken, a toilet was used, and Charles brushed his teeth before wheeling out of the bathroom and heading for the kitchen. The headache was worse, so bad he almost couldn’t see. Ah, well, he’d gone through studying for his PhD with worse pain. It wasn’t that bad.

Except then he vomited all over his knees and feet and sat in the middle of the hall, stunned, unable to drag his brain out of misery to realize what had happened.

“Ah, fuck,” Erik muttered, hurrying towards him. “Right, you’re not going to work.”

“It’s not that bad—”

“Charles, please shut up.”

So Charles did.

Somehow, Charles ended up tucked in on the couch with water, aspirin, and toast at the ready. He was rather bewildered about why Erik was doing this for him. It grated on his nerves, being fussed at like an invalid, but… Erik’s attention was nice. Charles liked it.

The day passed slowly, but calmly. Charles napped a lot. Erik seemed content to shove glasses of water into his hands and read Charles’ books. Lunch and dinner were simple, but much tastier than anything Charles could cook for himself.

Around 8PM, Erik sat on the footstool beside Charles and shoved his laptop into Charles’ hands. “Found a place,” he said. “It’s pretty remote, and the lease is for three months, no shorter, but it’s accessible and has a great view.”

“Thank you,” Charles said, looking through the pictures. They were… honestly quite beautiful. The house itself was a bit small, but it had two bedrooms, a full bathroom with plumbing, a generator for electricity, a mostly modern kitchen, and a fireplace. The amenities listed said that deliveries of basic needs arrived every Saturday. There was a small town only about twenty minutes away, but the “road” was cobblestone, and Charles did not fancy traversing that more than once.

It had a lovely garden, too, and access to a private beach. It was perfect for hiding from the world.

Charles pursed his lips, thinking. He really did want to hide… but did he want that because the idea of being alone was nice, or because he was bitter? Did he want to go here to rest, or to make people feel bad and contact him out of obligation? Did it really matter? He wanted to hide. He wanted to cry alone, in a place where no one would hear. He wanted a change a scene.

He wanted to get away from Erik.

That thought was… nasty. Selfish. But it was true. Charles’ gut clenched, but he forced himself to look up at Erik, smile, and say, “It truly is lovely. Thank you for finding it.”

Erik nodded, looking satisfied, and stood. “Book it for two people,” he said firmly. “I’ll come with you.”

Alarm thrilled through Charles. “You don’t have to, really, you don’t—”

“I want to.”

Charles shut his mouth, stunned. Erik just picked up his laptop and set it on the coffee table. “It’s late,” Erik noted, frowning at the clock. “Are you tired?”

“Not really,” Charles answered softly.

“Alright. I’m going to bed.” Erik took a step towards Charles, stopped short, frowned, then shrugged and walked away, to the guest room.

Charles sat very still on the couch for a long time.

Erik insisted on carrying their bags, which was exasperating to no end, but, well, at least Charles didn’t have to use that cheap bag he’d bought to hang on the back of his chair.

There was a bit of trouble when the airport pretended they didn’t have his requirements on file, and then the flight attendant told Charles he wasn’t allowed to sit in the disabled seats because they were close to the door. Erik snarled and the flight attendant backed down. Charles was pissed enough to not care.

The plane ride was rather long, but Charles passed the time by reading some research papers that he had downloaded to his laptop as PDFs. They were engrossing enough that he didn’t even notice that when the snack cart came around, the flight attendant gave him a juice box and a bag of goldfish crackers, instead of asking what he would prefer. When he did notice, it was too late to complain, so he scowled and kept reading, ignoring the juice and crackers.

The next thing to do after they exited the plane, reclaimed Charles’ chair, and swept past the annoyed looks of the other passengers, was to find somewhere to sleep. Erik had engaged a night at a motel near the middle of the large town, and thankfully, it was on the ground floor.

As they prepared for sleep, Charles remembered something, and smiled.

“What are you laughing at?” Erik asked irritably as he set a cup of water on the side of the nightstand closest to Charles.

“Oh—I wasn’t laughing,” Charles assured him. “I was just remembering that roadtrip we took about fifteen years ago. Remember how we went to the coast in Washington state and the motel had the exact same wallpaper, only with shag rugs hung all over to hide the water damage?”

Erik snorted and shook his head. “And then the ceiling in the bathroom broke and you got knocked down by a naked, soapy grandma. I remember.”

“At least they gave us our money back.”

“Yeah, after she and her husband threatened to sue the motel and you mentioned that you had a family attorney who was good with lawsuits.”

“What can I say, I was pissed.”

Erik smirked, and opened his mouth to say something, and then decided not to. His frown returned. “We should sleep,” he said abruptly, and flopped on his bed. “Good night, Charles.”

Charles, flabbergasted, stared at him for a moment, then said, “Good night, Erik.”

The house was even more delightful up close. Charles was charmed immediately, and the realtor handed over the keys with a big smile.

The first day was unpacking and settling in. The sun was sinking, gilding the ocean waves with gold and turning the shadows of the water purple and green. It was beautiful sight. Charles spent half an hour just looking out the window at the sea, entranced.

A snort brought him back to his body, and he turned to see Erik looking at him with a wryly amused expression. “What?” Charles asked.

“I haven’t seen you that engrossed in just looking at something in ten years,” Erik replied. “You usually have something in your hands, or you’re reading.”

Charles blushed and ran his hand through his hair. “I haven’t really had a chance to just look at something, without having to do anything else,” he admitted. “This is… nice.”

Erik’s face made a strange expression, and he swallowed hard. “Good,” he said gruffly, and turned back to making dinner from the provisions they’d brought.

Quiet and darkness swathed the island not too long after dinner. Charles got into the rather lumpy mattress and let the sounds of the ocean and the wind draw him into that empty space he so often had trouble getting to. This really was nice. He sighed contentedly and fell asleep gently, easily.

The next morning, he woke up to pale golden sunshine and the smell of pancakes.

He yawned, sat up, and looked around blearily. He hadn’t noticed last night, but the walls were painted in swirls of blue—shades of paint that were so similar in saturation and tone that it was hard to pick out without such bright light. Charles smiled, oddly cheered by this. Small, beautiful details.

For some reason he thought of Erik’s eyes, shifting shades of blue and grey.

He shook his head and got out of bed, wheeling himself out to the large room that had no walls between kitchen, dining area, and sitting room. Erik was making pancakes and frying sausage patties, humming to himself and not realizing Charles was there. Charles watched him for a moment, his chest aching with the shivering joy of being near Erik and the dread of what might happen if he told Erik about his love. It would be terrible to say anything. But he wasn’t sure he could survive such close quarters without letting it slip.

He would just have to try, then.

Charles cleared his throat, and Erik jumped and spun. “Damn it, Charles, make noise or something,” Erik snapped, scowling hard. “How many pancakes do you want?”

Charles smiled. “Three is enough, thank you.”

Breakfast was nice, and Charles listened to Erik’s humming with a smile. He’d forgotten that Erik hummed his favorite songs when he was happy with his food. He recognized all the tunes, though; it hadn’t been that long since they’d been roommates.

Ten years. Charles’ smile faded, and he stuffed another piece of pancake in his mouth. Ten years of steadily drifting apart. He didn’t even know why Erik had come when Charles had called, the night of the reunion. They hadn’t spoken in six months.

But here they were. On vacation together, like when they were young and stupid and impulsive. Charles wondered if this would end horribly, or if they could still be friends. The corners of his mouth turned down, and he sipped his grape juice with no sense of enjoyment.

“Hmph,” Erik said, swallowing his last mouthful. “You better not be making any stupid decisions.”

“How would you know if I was making any decisions?” Charles objected, lifting his head to glower at Erik.

Erik pointed his fork at Charles and replied, “You always make that face when you’re torn about something. And the face you’re making right now is exactly how you look every time I call you out.” Erik’s mouth began to curl up at the corners, and his eyes crinkled a little. “And now you’re embarrassed,” he taunted. “Don’t lie.”

Charles covered his face with his hands, cheeks burning, and Erik laughed.

The whole day was like that. They went down to the beach after lunch, and Erik started loudly singing the British national anthem and cackled when Charles threw a seashell at him. Then Charles started singing “Part Of Your World” from The Little Mermaid, and Erik lunged and pinched his cheeks, stretching them out so he couldn’t sing properly, and then Charles was laughing too.

Going back inside, Erik folded a paper airplane and they played that game they made up in university: whoever had the plane had to make up the most ridiculous fact they could, and then when the other person had the plane they had to refute the fact in the most obnoxious way possible. They spent several hours doing that, throwing the plane across the room and having a stupid debate about penguin social structures. They were both smiling by the time night fell.

The next day dawned grey and chilly. Charles got out a book, and then pulled out another and offered it to Erik.

“Here,” he said, “I know you were interested in this one.”

Erik blinked at him, then accepted the book. “I haven’t read this journal in eight years,” he said slowly, beginning to frown. “It’s university exclusive.”

“Exactly. I, ah, borrowed that one when no one was looking, because...” Charles trailed off, looking up at Erik’s frown. “Do you not want to read it?” he asked, beginning to feel tight with anxiety.

Erik looked up at him, apparently surprised. “I do want to,” he said. “I just—don’t know how you remembered.”

Charles shrugged, blushing. “I’ve never met anyone else so interested in the same journals as me,” he said uncomfortably. “It stuck with me, is all.”

Erik was silent for a moment. Then he reached out and bopped the top of Charles’ head with the journal, just like he did when they were younger. “Alright,” he said, and sat on the couch next to Charles.

The first week passed easily; Charles found that close contact with Erik reawakened, not just his romantic nature, but all the memories of the things that made them friends. All of Erik’s charming habits, all of his annoying actions, it reminded Charles of how they had dealt with each other in the past. Instead of endless compromise, there were arguments that never ended, but were not painful or infuriating. Instead of listening to silence because they hated each other’s music, they annoyed each other endlessly by blasting their songs on the other’s phone through Bluetooth. Erik tackled Charles into the couch cushions and put him in a headlock for playing Depeche Mode.

Instead of surface pleasantries, they would sit up until 1AM talking about all the things they could never tell anyone else. Instead of bitterly complaining about the world, they talked about all the beauty they’d seen in the past few years.

Charles went to bed every night strangely content, and woke up every morning ready to begin another day of calm, and quiet, and companionship.

The problems started when Raven called him.

They were in the middle of the Plane Game, arguing about the shape and size of the average plesiosaur’s testicles, when Charles’ phone rang. He looked at the caller ID, perked up, and answered immediately. “Raven! Hello!”

“Charles, it’s been a week,” she snapped irritably. “When are you coming home?”

Charles blinked, surprised. “I’m not sure,” he lied. “A very long while yet, I suppose. Why, is something wrong?”

“Yes, you were supposed to come to Kurt’s recital.”

Guilt bit Charles’ stomach—but so did irritation. “I was not aware I was invited to any recitals,” he said calmly. “Is it the same venue where the stage director asked me if I wanted a lollipop?”

“Well—yes, but that shouldn’t matter. Kurt wants you to come.”

Charles thought for a moment. He did love his nephew, and loved being part of his life—but he knew exactly what would happen. If he were there, Raven and Azazel would dump Kurt in his lap, ask him to watch the boy, and then wander off and not come back for an hour or two. Charles may love his nephew, but he was not capable of catching a child that fast in a public area with other adults around. If Charles went to the recital, Azazel would make cruel jokes and when Charles got upset, Raven would be mad at her brother, not her husband. If he went to the recital, he would not be comfortable or happy, no matter how well Kurt did.

“Please tell Kurt I’m sorry,” Charles said, “But I won’t be available. Thank you for telling me, though.”

“Ugh, you are so selfish, Charles! Tell me when you get back.” And Raven hung up.

Charles lowered his phone into his lap and stared at it for a moment.

“What happened?” Erik asked.

“She wants me to go to Kurt’s recital,” Charles answered without looking up. “I do hope it goes well, and I know Kurt will be spectacular, but… I don’t know. I don’t exactly like being called a cripple and when I say something Raven gets mad at me.”

“Who calls you that?” Erik demanded sharply. Charles looked up, startled, to see actual anger on Erik’s face.

“Azazel,” he replied. “He started doing it about a week after I came home from the hospital. That’s why Raven stopped helping me; she said Azazel had told her that I needed to learn independence.”

Erik’s frown deepened further. “That fucking asshole,” he growled, and grabbed his own phone.

“Erik, wait, you don’t have to—”

“Hush.”

So Charles put his face in his hands and listened in horror as Erik called Azazel and chewed him out. Apparently Azazel kept trying to justify himself, because Erik kept shutting him down. Erik was right, of course. But he didn’t have to do that.

When Erik hung up, Charles kept his face hidden. There were tears in his eyes and he felt utterly ashamed. He shouldn’t have said anything. He really shouldn’t have. Now Azazel and Raven were going to be pissed at Charles again, and Erik, and it was going to be horrible. Maybe it was a good thing they wouldn’t be back for three months.

“He did deserve that,” Erik said grumpily.

“You could have waited,” Charles croaked. “Now he’s going to tell Raven, who will call me again to yell at me for lying, and then they will both be pissed at us for even thinking that they’re wrong.”

“No they—”

Charles’ phone rang again.

He swallowed hard, took a breath, and answered. Before he could say anything, Raven said, “Fuck you, Charles. Never come near me or my family again.” And then she hung up.

Charles did not attempt to stop the tears as his hand lowered again. There was no point. There was only Erik to see. And Erik wouldn’t tell. He had promised years ago, and Charles believed him. He wouldn’t tell anyone that Charles had cried.

“I’m sorry.”

Charles turned his head to look at Erik. He was too depressed to be startled. Erik had never apologized for losing his temper on Charles’ behalf, so this was new; but Charles didn’t really care. “Sorry for what?” he asked.

Erik pressed his lips together tightly, then answered, “I’m sorry for not listening to you. You were right, I didn’t think it through. I won’t do it again.”

Charles nodded and wiped his eyes on his sleeve. “Thank you, Erik.”

After a moment, Erik stood, walked over, sat beside Charles, and hugged him. Just like he used to before they broke up. Charles relaxed almost immediately. He remembered this. He remembered what it meant. He was grateful for it.

Over the next two weeks, Charles had to field calls from students, fellow teachers, and even his physical therapist, all of them worried about him. No one would say why. Several of them asked if he was safe, and he always said yes with a puzzled frown. Of course he was safe. He was with Erik.

Kurt called him at night once, on Raven’s phone, crying. He said Raven and Azazel were fighting and he was scared. Charles stayed on the phone with him and Erik called Emma to ask her to go over and make sure Kurt was okay. Unexpectedly, Raven wasn’t even annoyed that Kurt had called Charles; instead, she took Kurt to a hotel for the night. Erik and Charles thanked Emma, who told them it was her pleasure and they’d better not expect her to be the go-between.

Charles laid awake for hours after that, caught in a panic attack brought on by memories. He fell asleep around dawn, and slept all the way to noon.

“You alright?” Erik asked, looking worried as Charles picked at his salad.

“Yes,” Charles replied softly. “I’m fine.”

Erik made a face, then said, “It’s nice today. Let’s go to the beach.”

The beach was, indeed, quite pleasant. Charles even smiled at the glittering water, and Erik rolling up his pant legs to test the water and find shells. He snickered a little at Erik’s small yelp of “Cold! Fuck!”

Warm sun, brisk breeze, the scent of the ocean, and the realization that no one could actually come here and guilt or pressure or terrorize him, made him feel better with every breath. He wished he could touch the sand.

Erik walked over and said, “Do you want to feel the water? It’s fucking icy.”

Charles looked up at him, and grinned. “Sure, why not,” he said.

So Erik picked him up in his arms and carried him to the edge of the water, and set him down on the sand. Charles immediately put his hand in the waves and squeaked.

“Told you it was cold,” Erik said smugly, then yelped as Charles rubbed a handful of dry sand in his hair.

They stayed by the water until the light was almost gone, looking out at the ocean and talking about mermaids and sirens and other water-beings. Charles felt suitably relaxed and melancholy to say, “I used to wish Selkies would steal me from the beach when I was little. Even after Raven came. I wanted to disappear from real life. Under the ocean was the only place I could think of where no one would ever find me.”

Erik tightened his arm around Charles’ waist. “Then we wouldn’t have met,” he pointed out softly.

“Well, no. But you could’ve made better friends than me. You were popular because you were you. You would have been just fine without me.”

“Charles, that is not true.” Erik dragged Charles onto his lap, startling another squeak out of him, and grabbed his chin to make him look at Erik. He was scowling, and his eyes may have been shinier than usual. “You’re the one who got me through Shaw’s trial, remember?” he snapped. “You’re the one who helped me get into Oxford. You’re my best friend and I wouldn’t trade you for any other friend in the entire goddamn world.”

Charles stared at Erik. He wanted to cry, but he also wanted to kiss Erik. He was so close. And he was so supportive.

Instead, Charles rested his head on Erik’s shoulder and said softly, “Thank you. You’re my best friend too.”

“Good.”

They sat in the gathering dark and growing cold, holding on to each other tightly, and didn’t speak for a while. There was so much to say, and yet no words for any of it. Charles closed his eyes and listened to Erik’s heartbeat. It was a good sound.

“We should go back,” Erik sighed, rubbing Charles’ arm.

“Mm,” Charles hummed in reply, not making any movement to pull away.

“We’re both covered in sand.”

“Yes we are.”

“Your chair will be full of sand.”

“I know.”

“I’m starving.”

“Go without me.”

“And leave you alone by the sea after that Selkie stuff? Absolutely not.” Erik stood, cradling Charles in his arms, and returned him to his chair. Charles pouted, until Erik cupped Charles’ cheek in his hand and said sternly, “You don’t get to disappear on me again, Charles. Got it?”

“Got it,” Charles replied, and almost said that Erik looked otherworldly and breathtaking in the light of the seaside moon. Silver tracing his cheeks, glowing in his eyes, glistening in his white-streaked hair… concern and care and worry on his face. It made Charles’ chest ache. Before he could stop himself, he reached up and ran his fingertips down Erik’s jaw.

Then he remembered the situation and snatched his hand back, looking away and clearing his throat.

“We should—go,” Charles stammered, and turned his chair towards the slope up to the house.

The phone calls to “check up on him” declined sharply, and Charles enjoyed the peace. He and Erik spent a lot of time reading, or arguing, or playing chess. Moira video-called Charles to talk about classes next year, and to pass on Emma’s message that Raven and Kurt were staying with Emma for a while. Charles bit his lip, worried, then said, “Thank you, Moira. Please tell Emma I’m grateful, and Raven and Kurt that I love them.”

“Will do, Charles. By the way, did you read the university newsletter? That guest lecturer who talks about overcoming physical disability through optimism is coming by during the first semester. Do you want to come with me and we can ask him questions until he gets angry?”

Charles grinned. “Actually, Moira dear, I would love that.”

Moira laughed. “You are scary sometimes, you know that? Ah well. Anything else we should go over?”

“Not that I can think of. How are your cats?”

A few days later, Erik got a call from Azazel. He took it out to the garden. Charles bit his lip and kept playing with the interesting new fidget Alex had bought for his birthday, trying not to listen. He couldn’t even hear Erik speaking, the walls were too thick, but he thought he heard a raised voice. When Erik slammed the door coming back in, Charles flinched.

“It’s official,” Erik announced, flopping on the chair across from Charles. His face was a mix of satisfied and irritated. “Raven handed him the divorce papers this morning, and he’s blaming me.”

Charles gaped at him.

Erik ran his hand through his hair, mouth twisting in consternation. “He said it was because I—what were his words? Oh, yes, encouraged you to pit Raven against him. I swear I had no fucking clue he was that abusive.”

Charles closed his mouth and swallowed hard, then said softly, “It’s alright. I didn’t either. I thought he was just an asshole.”

Erik snorted. They were both quiet for a moment. Then Erik asked abruptly, “What do you want for dinner? We got a squash with the delivery yesterday.”

“Squash sounds lovely.”

On the fifth week of their stay, a storm hit.

It rattled the roof, beat against the windows, shook the earth. The rain sounded less like rain and more like small caliber bullets. The ocean roared and moaned and lightning flashed over it far too often for comfort.

Charles and Erik sat in the pantry, Erik shivering and curled up in Charles’ arms. He hated storms. He once told Charles it was because it reminded him too much of the night those nazi bastards broke into his home and—

Charles pressed his face to Erik’s sweat-spiked hair and hummed a lullaby, over and over, until the storm abated sometime after dawn. Erik still needed a few minutes to collect himself, but by the time the sun was out, shining apologetically, he was calm.

And then he had a panic attack around noon and Charles got on the floor with him and worked through it with him, until Erik was exhausted and trembling, but no longer glassy-eyed and with a clenched jaw. Charles ordered him to go sleep, and Erik did so, squeezing Charles’ shoulder in thanks. Charles chewed his lip worriedly, then shook his head and went to make himself a sandwich.

The next time there was a storm, Charles woke up to Erik crawling under his blankets with him and hiding his face in Charles’ shoulder. Nothing was said about this—but every time the wind picked up around the little house, Erik huddled against Charles, and Charles held him and tried so hard not to kiss him.

It was the end of the second month when Charles wheeled out of the bathroom, yawning, to see Erik dancing in the kitchen.

He had headphones on, and was listening his phone, and apparently didn’t care that the eggs were done. He looked a little bit like an elementary school kid trying to dance, except his hips were certainly smooth enough to make Charles blush. But he looked happy, and that was… wonderful. Charles just watched him, and found himself smiling. A silly dance from a silly man. It was adorable.

“I love you so much,” he whispered.

Of course, then Erik saw him, and almost fell down he was so startled. He ripped off his headphones and barked, “Damn it, Charles, warn me!”

“You had your music on, you wouldn’t have heard me,” Charles shot back. “You’ve gotten better at dancing.”

Erik stared at him, stunned. “Ah… I have?” Erik asked, and there was a current of disbelief and hope in his carefully neutral tone.

Charles smiled and nodded. “I remember the first time we danced around in our dorm, you were drunk and couldn’t stand straight but you were far more enthusiastic than me. You’re much better nowadays.”

“Oh.” Erik looked down at his feet, fidgeting with the headphones. Then he looked up and gave a tiny smile. “Thanks,” he said.

“Of course. Are the eggs burned?”

It happened so slowly that Charles didn’t even register it at first. But suddenly, in a spark of clarity, he realized that he and Erik were… growing into each other. It was so natural to sit tucked under Erik’s arm, to share a bed, to let Erik carry him into the ocean so he could feel the waves. And it was so natural to tell dumb jokes until Erik threw a pillow at him, or sing to him softly when he couldn’t sleep, or put on a show or movie that he remembered Erik liking.

Erik wasn’t as broody and quiet anymore. Charles wasn’t as scared.

Erik kissed him on their last day there.

It was actually quite disappointing to arrive back in New York and be swallowed up by noise and smells and lights and things moving quickly. Charles held Erik’s hand in the taxi tightly, his heart beating too fast. What would his coworkers think? What would Moira say? What about Raven, would she be angry? Then Charles looked over at Erik, who was watching him with a soft expression, and he felt a little more grounded. It didn’t matter what others thought. Erik loved him, and he loved Erik, and that was the only exchange of emotions that he should worry about on this topic.

Neither of them had said love, of course. But that’s what they had.

After dropping off all of their trunks at Charles’ apartment, Erik did some quite entertaining mouth movements before asking Charles nonchalantly, “So, got a spare room?”

“Don’t even try it,” Charles admonished. “My bed is more comfortable and you know that.”

Erik grinned. “Just wanted you to say it,” he said, and dropped a kiss on Charles’ head. “Nap time?”

Charles wove his fingers with Erik’s and chuckled. “Nap time,” he agreed.

#Cherik #Cherik fic #commission #gosh this is over 5k words and I am EXHAUSTED ahsdlgahepas

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mountphoenixrp · 3 years

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We have a new citizen in Mount Phoenix:

Charlotte Choi, who is known by no other name, a 23 year old daughter of Hecate. She is the singer for HEXED and a clerk at The Lion’s Den.

FC NAME/GROUP: Choi Yuna (Yuju) CHARACTER NAME: Charlotte Choi AGE/DATE OF BIRTH: 24, October 31, 1996 PLACE OF BIRTH: Seoul, South Korea OCCUPATION: Singer for Hexed, part-time clerk at The Lion’s Den HEIGHT: 5’7” WEIGHT: 105 lbs DEFINING FEATURES: Spiral burn on her left palm.

PERSONALITY: Charlotte has a very nurturing and maternal personality, brimming with compassion. Growing up taking care of five younger siblings made her very responsible and patient, so she is usually able to keep a clear head even in a crisis. This has also made her very skilled at conflict resolution and negotiation, at least when it comes to children, anyway.

She is the opposite of an impulsive person. She thinks before she acts, she thinks before she speaks. It usually takes her a while to make decisions because she needs to weight all her options. And while she is not necessarily an introvert, she does tend to be rather quiet because she is often distracted with her thoughts- be they about the situation at hand or something more fanciful like an idea for a song.

HISTORY: [TW: abuse, neglect]

Charlotte was born the youngest of a set of fraternal triplets in Seoul, South Korea. Fearing the power of three demigod children of Hecate, their father only kept the oldest daughter, sending Charlotte and Cassandra away shortly after their birth. Charlotte was sent to New York to be adopted under the table by a wealthy couple there. After a few odd incidents, however, the couple decided that they did not want her anymore and discretely passed her on to another family.

From there, the baby was renamed Nina, and she eventually became the eldest in a house of six children adopted by Mary and Samuel Collins. She knew from the moment that she could understand it that she was adopted, that she had been given up at birth- and her adopted parents did not let her forget it, always stressing that she owed them a debt for taking her in when her birth parents hadn’t wanted her.

By the time she entered grade school, the Collins had taken in five other toddlers and infants, which meant that a lot of Nina’s free time was spent doing what she could to help care for her little siblings; waddling around to get the older ones snacks, helping them get dressed, teaching them how to brush their teeth and hair. She did not mind it, though. It was a lot like playing house with dolls, she imagined, and she did not have any dolls. Even at that young age, she had quite the maternal instinct.

As she got older, her responsibility grew, the Collins essentially ignoring their adopted children as much as they could. In between school and various part-time jobs, as well as singing on street corners for tips, she cooked and cleaned and helped her siblings with their homework and sang them lullabies to chase away the monsters in the night.

The only time the Collins seemed to pay her any mind was when something strange happened in the house -a vase shattering without cause, the lock on the fridge opening on its own, the bathtub overflowing even though no one had turned on the water- and Nina was always blamed. Usually, she got away with a hard slap or a shove from Samuel, although some incidents were severe enough to warrant being locked in the hall closet for long stretches of time or properly beat. Even if she did not understand why these strange occurrences were her fault, she took the punishments in stride. At least it was her and not one of the younger children.

At eighteen, she told the Collins that she wanted to leave. It was a hard decision, given that she loved her younger siblings, but she had spent her whole life selflessly caring for them and she felt like she needed to start thinking about her future. She had been busking on the city’s streets and making fairly good money (when she was allowed to keep it), so she figured she could make it on her own. Maybe not in New York, but somewhere. Maybe even in Korea, as an idol. She wanted to be a singer more than anything.

Samuel laughed in her face and hit her so hard that she had a bruise on her cheek for a week.

Later that night, Mary gave her an envelope that had apparently come from her birth parents, on the condition that she stayed to help support the family. Hungry for any knowledge of who she was and where she had come from, Nina agreed. Inside the envelope was just a small bundle of tattered papers that looked like they had been ripped from a book. At first, she was immeasurably disappointed and angry. She did not understand why this was the only thing that her birth parents had decided she would need, and it almost seemed like maybe the Collins were playing a cruel joke on her.

However, the book pages were strange, and they soon drew her curiosity. They were in a language she did not recognize, and yet when she tried to read it the words flowed off her tongue effortlessly. And then all of the faucets in the house suddenly began gushing hot water.

The next day, she murmured some of the words when Samuel yelled at her about the dishes not yet being done, and to her shock a plate flew through the air and narrowly avoided his head. The man immediately flew into a rage, yanking Nina from her chair and taking her over to the stove. He lit one burner, dragging her hand over to it. The second her skin touched the red-hot burner, she released an ear-splitting scream that seemed to daze Samuel for a moment. She took that moment to grab her backpack and run out the door, willing herself to not look back.

And so, she was alone. All she had to her name was her wallet, those book pages, and a copy of Macbeth. So, she decided to give herself a clean slate. She renamed herself Charlotte Choi and used the money she had hidden in the lining of her backpack to buy herself a plane ticket to Berlin. She did not know why she had decided to go there until she arrived and a stranger suddenly approached her on the street. It was her sister. She just knew it as soon as she saw her.

She was surprised to see that her sister, Cassandra, had the same spiral burn on her hand as she did. One that had just appeared the same day that Samuel had burned her. But maybe she shouldn't have been surprised, considering the strange things that had been happening around her lately. Not to mention the strange feeling that had drawn her to Berlin in the first place. It was almost unbelievable, to just find a long-lost sister like this, but it felt like a piece she had been missing for her entire life had clicked into place.

And yet, she still did not feel whole. Something was still missing. Cassie felt it too.

Then, a few weeks later, they just suddenly looked up at each other and both said a single word: Seoul. Whatever they were missing, it was in Seoul. But they wanted to know what they were getting into before they flew across the world, so Charlotte flipped through her spell book pages and said an incantation, gripping Cassie's hand. The spell triggered a vision in both of them, showing them another girl who appeared to be in danger, locked in a basement and injured. 

They were triplets, they realized. And their last sister needed their help.  Going to Seoul and tracking down their long-lost third sibling was surprisingly easy, as was blowing their father's door off its hinges, now that their powers were growing. It took all of Charlotte's strength to keep a clear head and stop Cassandra from killing their father for what he had done to Claire. She was just as angry about the situation, but she knew that more violence would solve nothing. So, instead, they took Claire away to safety. For a while, the triplets were rather nomadic, bouncing between various dwellings as they tried to figure out what they were going to do.

Once the dust had settled, there was only one thing they could think to do… They started a rock band. Hexed, the group was called, and they quickly developed a loyal following in Seoul’s underground rock scene. Over the next few years, they made something of a name for themselves, their music videos getting a fair amount of views and their concerts in clubs often being packed. They even did a few shows in Japan.

However, after finally completing their spell book, they found a message within it about a mysterious island called Mount Phoenix. Charlotte still had an inkling of fear about their father possibly trying to find them again, so she was relieved to have a safe place for her and her sisters to live.

PANTHEON: Greek CHILD OF: Hecate POWERS: Charlotte has the ability to cast a wide variety of spells, using either her personal pocket-sized spell book or the large one that she and her sisters share. Her specialty is psychic spells; as ones that alter a person’s perception of reality, influence someone’s mind, or make objects move on their own. She can also create small amounts of fire, but she mostly uses this ability for stage tricks at concerts.

STRENGTHS:

thinks before she acts

can keep a cool head in a crisis

compassionate

creative

keeps herself very physically fit

WEAKNESSES:

suffers from insomnia

often overthinks things

puts others (especially her sisters) before herself

has trouble saying no and standing up for herself

can stretch herself a little too thin

#kpop rp #krp #gfriend #choi yuna #yuju #mp; welcome

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melmac78 · 3 years

Text

The first chapter of the Tracy’s doing the Overnight/Live Aboard program. It’s a WIP, and and will take a bit to finish as I’ve got to rewrite a couple of scenes as I found they’re implausible. (There are some minor liberties taken on the program, but I try to have anything that can be visited IRL accurate).

These pics correlate to the opening chapter.

Notes: the berth described in story is not exact to the above: The one I stayed in is the door and by the women’s Head (bathroom, accurate as they also have showers), and the quarters displayed above are part of a tour. Also, my headcanon is Texas was allowed to become an independent republic again in the future.

Enjoy.

••••••

Scott Tracy was in love - again. She had sleek curves, a graceful nose, beautiful blue and gold colorings... and long graceful wings.

He stared at the real Navy Blue A-4 Skyhawk Blue Angel that "flew" on a tall, solid pedestal as though soaring the skies.

Scott could imagine being behind the wheel of the plane, zooming through the air to help serve his country. The swooping, diving and turning were all quite vivid in his head, and he got lost in his imagination.

In fact, Scott was so deep in his dream he didn't notice the world around him trying to get his attention - nor the fact he was grabbed and thrown into a fireman's carry.

It wasn't until he saw grey concrete and rough, seashell laden sand - and someone's shoulders hitting Scott in the gut - he realized he was even moving.

Scott finally was snapped out of his thoughts, aided by the crisp, salty air of the Gulf of Mexico. "Hey! Let me go! Put me down!" said the pilot, gently pounding on the man's left shoulder blade.

A gentle base voice laughed. "Sorry birthday boy but there's plenty more to see than your 'girlfriend'," laughed Virgil as he continued to walk the man a short distance to the front entrance of the USS Lexington in Corpus Christi, the Texas Republic.

The aircraft carrier, commissioned February 17, 1943, was the fifth one by that name. The previous one - CV-2 was sunk in the Coral Sea during World War I, and people chose to rename a newly built carrier from USS Cabot to Lexington in her predecessor's honor.

The nickname Blue Ghost, coined by Tokyo Rose, was created when the Japanese thought she had been sunk four times, but came back.

She was kept in service until formally decommissioned in 1992, and now had been a museum for almost 70 years.

When Texas was allowed to become its own independent constitutional republic again in 2047, the United States allowed the carrier to still be on display in the Gulf as part of a history sharing program.

When Grandma Tracy gave a Live Aboard trip to Scott for his birthday, he suggested they all go. He said it was all he wanted for his birthday - a trip through history of course, experiencing life on an aircraft carrier, but also spending time with his family.

They would be camping in the old crew quarters below deck as part of the program, as well as enjoy meals in the mess hall and see other sites in Corpus Christi, including the Texas State Aquarium and museums in the area.

Even John happily agreed to come down and stay on Earth for the two nights they would spend camping on board the vintage aircraft carrier, so it was for once the entire family.

Admittedly though no one knew how much excitement this trip would bring for the family.

It was already a struggle for them to keep Gordon from dashing off to the visit the marine wildlife and rehabilitation centers at the aquarium. His invite to feed the fish - inside the aquarium in his scuba gear - and the dolphins wasn't until two days later.

Now, just like Scott had done to Gordon over the aquarium, Virgil had to carry him away to get to where they were supposed to go.

"Oh come on Virg - she's not my girlfriend," said Scott, rolling his eyes as he lightly bopped his brother's head.

Virgil scoffed. "Yeah right - you also have to flirt with the TA-4 Skyhawk, T-2C Buckeye, SNJ-5 Texan, KA3B Skywarrior, N3N Yellow Peril, F/A-18 Hornet, 4A Phantom 2..." he said as he then gently set his brother down beside his others. They had their sleeping bags and backpacks bundled together for the two-night stay, packing clothing and other supplies needed.

What many didn't know there was another special "guest" on board - Thunderbird Four. She was boarded late the night before on a special elevator remaining active on the ship. The other 'Birds were ready to fly with EOS' autopilot at a moment's notice from Tracy Island.

While none of the Tracys thought any vehicle would be needed, they wanted to be ready just in case. Kayo was also on standby, staying at a nearby hotel with a helicopter landing on the rooftop to quickly board Shadow.

Scott chuckled in concession. "All right - I'm the 'Bachelor' for a bunch of aviator beauties," he said looking at the ship. "At least I'm not Gordon and want to kiss a sea turtle or otter."

"Hey - that was in my dreams," said Gordon, who then realized it only made things worse. He chuckled. "Yeah... well, I admit I'm wanting to go to the aquarium already, but I've also been looking forward to staying on the Lexington. I finally get to teach you a thing or two about ship life."

Alan chuckled. "Yeah, such as how to get stuck in the brig for hours misbehaving," he teased.

The aquanaut shook his head. "Can't do that bro - the brig is on the hard-hat tour, and Grandma couldn't get us on that one. Filled up."

"Doesn't mean they couldn't put you in the photo op brig," chuckled John, who was sitting on a large ship anchor as he finished his bottled water and snack.

They laughed at the remark as Virgil sat down by his red-headed brother. "How are you feeling bro? Do you need some more water?" he asked seriously.

John shook his head, waving off the remark. He was still suffering space sickness compounded with a rough descent in Thunderbird Five's space elevator two days prior. It had been bad enough he scared his brothers by passing out shortly after they greeted him in the living room.

They all had been worried his "space sickness" would keep him from going, but Virgil and Brains gave him the OK, as long as he ate and drank whatever he was given by the medic or brothers. They already had told him he'd be buying mozzarella sticks - a specialty - at the concession stand the moment after they got settled on board.

"I'm fine, besides - looks like we're about to start our adventure," John said, nodding toward the middle age man walking up to them.

"The Tracy brothers correct - Scott, John, Virgil, Gordon and Alan?" said the man, and the five nodded. "Just wanted to be sure. Your grandmother had already checked in with the girls from the local YMCA. Said though she was going to head to the Wardroom's mess to fix you dinner."

The five brothers gasped in horror, and the man chuckled. "Don't worry - we have people hired to cook the meals. We told her to rest and wait until Scott's birthday celebration - but only bring store bought foods."

Gordon wiped his forehead in a melodramatic fashion. "Whew! for a moment there I was afraid we'd end up getting something that closely resembles SOS."

Alan looked at his older brother, confused. "What's SOS?"

"Well it's also known as Sh..."

Virgil quickly clamped a hand over his seafaring brother's mouth. "Corned beef hash on toast," he said, glaring at Gordon. "SOS is a nickname for the food, and I'd better not hear you say it fully."

Gordon rolled his eyes but conceded.

Alan made a vow to himself to quietly ask his immediate older brother later - out of Virgil's earshot - what the acronym stood for.

The Lexington worker laughed. "Well, now that's settled, let's get started on your Live Aboard program. My name is Jacob Cobalt, and I'll be the ship leader during the next two days aboard the USS Lexington," he said. "Shortly I'll take you aboard so you can unpack in the berthing quarters. You'll be staying in the same area as the Boy Scouts, but have a berth to yourself."

The others nodded. They knew a couple of the workers were informed by the GDF about the need for the five to have their own quarters. Their berth would be slightly smaller than the larger groups, but they would be able to store their IR uniforms without the worry of prying eyes looking through lockers.

Jacob continued. "That said, you'll still have to follow the same rules of the Live Aboard, which means first, you must show proper decorum on this ship. It is a memorial to those who fought and died on it for freedom. Secondly, you have to obey whatever command I say…" he said, smirking before he then changed to a drill instructor tone. "So line up at attention! Backs straight and tuck in your shirt tails!"

The result was a slight comedy of errors when John tripped over a sleeping bag and crashed into Virgil, making both tumble to the ground. As they did they bumped into Gordon's shoulder, making him back into the anchor. Thankfully, all he did was sit on it.

"You have 10 seconds to get in line and shirt tails tucked and get in line," said the ship leader.

Everyone got in line and their tails tucked in by the count of 10 - except Scott.

Jacob clicked his tongue, disappointed. "You of all people - retired Air Force - can't get your shirt tucked in quickly?" he said, motioning Scott to come forward. "Well... I guess you get to give an example of what we do if someone's caught with their shirt untucked."

The other four Tracys laughed. "Oh boy, Flyboy got in trouble," said Gordon, teasing.

Scott gave a feral grin. "Don't think I won't be watching for my chance to get even..." said the eldest as he stood by Jacob.

"I think you'll have plenty of chances Scott…" said Jacob with a smile.

The aquanaut made a show of gulping, to everyone's amusement.

"OK...so what's the penalty?" Scott said, wincing. He hoped it wasn't clean the Head with a toothbrush.

"You have to do 15 pushups - the proper way," said the leader with a chortle.

Scott merely laughed and did as he was told - making sure the final five were single-handed to shush Gordon further.

One he did his 15 pushups, Scott returned to the line and Jacob continued. "OK, now we'll head up to the berthing area. Watch for low overhangs, your step on the ladders, and the lips of the doors so you don't trip over them."

John gave a subtle wince. "I thought I hated gravity before..." he muttered, praying he didn't go flying into a bulkhead not paying attention to the floor. He certainly didn't want to wind up ruining Scott's birthday suffering a concussion.

Virgil put a gentle hand on his brother's shoulder. "It's all right John - we'll make sure you don't fall - down or out," he said knowingly as they gathered their items and headed up the long ramp. They admired the exterior of the Blue Ghost, which included weaponry and lifeboat pods.

At the entrance, they received a blue wristband, showing they were part of the Live Aboard program and could stay past visitor hours before looking around the hangar deck. There was a machine that would simulate a flight simulation for guests while a real simulator lay on display nearby.

Other planes with mannequin workers getting it ready for takeoff, military memorabilia, and mockups for photos graced the area as well.

The Tracys however were heading toward a hatch leading to one of the Heads on the ship. “This way gentlemen,” said Jacob.

John leaned over the railing to look at the ladder of stairs and had a slight case of vertigo. "Oh brother, that's a way down," he muttered.

The youngest brother looked at his brother in sympathy. "You'll be OK John. I'll show you how to get down," said Alan as he started his climb down with his backpack. He faced away from the ladder, making his descent very slow.

When he reached the landing, he turned around, realizing he forgot his sleeping bag. "Um, guys, can you -" said Alan, only to be hit in the face with said item.

Looking up, he saw someone chortling. "Very funny Gordo," said Alan, only to be hit in the face again, this time with Gordon's pillow, then sleeping bag.

"Yeah - it is. You just took the worst way to get down these ladders," said Gordon as he turned around and faced the ladder on his descent. He would've slid down the rails as he did on occasion during his WASP stint, but the rungs were wrapped in rope to add grip safety. Gordon certainly wasn't going to let Alan tease him for rope burns.

Eventually, all five managed to make their way down without much incident. John went last just in case he slipped - and when he did three steps from the bottom, Scott and Virgil caught him. John gave a weak smile in thanks.

Jacob then descended and lead them to a doorway marked "Reserved for Live Aboard Only," and lowered the chain before opening the heavy door.

"OK, here's where you'll be staying the next couple of days. You'll use this head in the evenings after hours, and the showers are behind the wall there," he said, then gestured for them to come inside the quarters.

Inside there was a pool table, old fashioned arcade game that still worked nearly 80 years later, sofas and a ping-pong table. Military memorabilia from the wars the Lexington served in: badges, coats worn by sailors, flags, challenge coins, photos, adorned the walls along with mementos from past guests.

Seeing the youngest look over at the entertainment, the eldest sighed. "We're going to have to keep Alan from the video game, or he'll never go on tours," said Scott, knowing the youngest's fondness for antique games.

Alan rolled his eyes. "I can't play them - I don't have any coins," he said, looking at the game. "Besides - it's that old Donkey Kong game - I defeated it years ago."

The others just shook their head as they followed Jacob through a pair of doors. Turning left, they saw a kitchen area, clean but dark and clearly unused for decades.

Once they descended yet another set of ladders, they arrived at their berth. "Make yourselves at home. You can tour any of the paths until mess in the wardroom at 1800 hours," he said.

The Tracys nodded and entered the room, shivering at the abrupt coldness of the berths compared to the rest of the rooms earlier. It had pale olive green walls, tall, thin lockers for storing their items and bunk shelves complete with a thick foam mattress.

There were three levels to the bunks - beds near the ground, middle and near the top.

"Dibs on the top bunk," squeaked Alan as he quickly walked over to the nearest one.

"Hey - I get one," said Gordon.

Scott laughed. "There's enough for all of us to be on the top bunk if we want," he said, though he was going to stay on the middle bunk.

"Not me - I'm not going to fall out and get a concussion," said John, who wisely chose the lowest bunk, which lay about eight inches off the ground.

They chatted and laughed as they wandered around the quarters, choosing and making up their bunks before stuffing their lockers.

After a few minutes, Gordon and Alan walked around to look at where everyone selected to sleep.

Turning one corner, Alan sniggered at the sight in front of him while Gordon coughed to keep from laughing outright.

"Um, International Rescue, we have a situation," the aquanaut said, though his tone was not as serious as the comment would normally entail.

Still though, Scott went into smother hen mode and walked around to the bunks the youngest duo were at, while John followed, interested himself.

When they reached the others, Scott did all he could to keep a serious face himself.

He barely kept it.

"Um Virgil - what on earth possessed you to try and claim a top bunk yourself?" he asked.

The medic was stuck halfway in and out of the bunk, using his feet on the lower bunk to keep the metal edges from pressing into his gut.

In spite of Virgil's wishes and dreams to finally sleep on a top bunk, his large, muscular frame was just too broad to fit through the space between the safety bar, ladder and bed.

"Looks like Papa Bear forgot that those beds are too small for him," said Gordon, laughing.

"Very funny Squidface... can you guys give me a hand?" muttered Virgil.

The brothers laughed and helped assist Virgil down from the top bunk. The man then wisely chose to do the middleman choice and choose the middle bunk - still higher off the ground, but much more space as no bar was needed. He even double checked by effortlessly pulling himself into the bunk, silencing any further teases from Gordon.

Once they ensured everything was in place, and in the cases of the IR uniforms locked in the lockers, Scott turned and faced the others, smiling. "OK - let's take a journey through time... starting with the flight deck," said Scott.

"Of course - got to go see your girlfriends... FAB birthday boy," teased Virgil, and they headed up toward the hangar deck to go on the bridge/flight deck tour.

••••••

To Be Continued …

#thunderbirds are go #gordon tracy #john tracy #virgil tracy #scott tracy #alan tracy

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yanderefangirl · 4 years

Text

Beloved

Non Con Warning no minors allowed

(Y/n) was holding her small daughter Jolyne close to her chest as she carefully climbed out of the bathroom window. Their bags were packed and outside in the car. She had planning this escape from her insane inhuman husband Jotaro Kujo. They had met a few years ago. He had seemed normal at first a2nf they were good friends but then one night she had discovered he was one of those creatures a vampire. She was horrified and felt betrayed by this revelation. He haven't noticed her at first, too busy with sucking the blood of his victim, a guy who had asked her out today, he was being completely drained by Jotaro. She after quickly getting over her shock tried to help him by jumping onto Jotaro's back and attempting to pull him away from the poor guy. Jotaro temporarily stopped draining the poor guy and turned his head towards her.

She never forgot that sinister look on his face when he saw that it was her. He smiled at her with blood dripping down from the corner of his lips, he swallowed the blood in his blood and carefully and slowly placed her next to him. He didn't say a single word, she looked at the poor guy he was already on the verge of death. He turned back to the poor guy and resumed draining him. She upon realizing that it was too late to save the poor guy, ran away and hided from Jotaro Kujo. But for whatever reason, fate had dealt her a unlucky hand and Jotaro had managed to find her no matter where she went or how hard she tried to hide her identify eventually Jotaro straight up threatened to kill everyone she ever cared about unless she married him.

She tearfully agreed and then they were married and nine months later she had Jolyne who was a hybrid half vampire half human and all adorableness. Jotaro loved Jolyne and spoiled her, letting Jolyne get her way with almost everything. Jotaro was extremely possessive of (Y/n) and took many precautions on the off chance she might escape, lately however he was getting more lenient with (Y/n), allowing her more freedom and privacy. Jotaro would often leave during the night to go off hunting and not come back until crazy late in the night or early in the morning. (Y/n) knew that she had plan her escape with her precious baby girl, timing it perfectly and making that the cameras were all distabled, (Y/n) would slowly and carefully pack their bags over the course of a few weeks. Finally tonight the bags were all packed and they were all ready to go, Jotaro had left a couple of hours and had told her that he wouldn't be back until at least 2:30 am. It was 9pm they had a plane booked at 12am and needed to leave now. (Y/n) quietly and quickly ran to the car and buckled Jolyne into her carseat then got into the car herself. She drove off to the airport, arriving at 9:45pm. Jolyne woke up upon feeling the car stop and looked around. "Mama where are we?" She asked with a worried expression across her face and her voice shaking. (Y/n) despite being terrified that Jotaro would appear out of nowhere and took them back to his house and her gilded cage, took a deep breathe and replied while forcing a smile on her face "Its okay JoJo we are at the airport. Remember what Mama said? We are going on a special trip together." Jolyne thought for a moment then smiled and nodded her head. "Oh I remember now Mama. Our special Mama daughter trip." Jolyne clapped her hands excitedly and giggled. (Y/n) smiled again this time not having to force herself. She unblucked herself, gathered up their bags and suitcases and then got Jolyne out of her carseat. She pushed the tollery inside, making sure that Jolyne was close by every five seconds. They managed to make it the ticket counter and security without much trouble and now they were currently waiting at the gate.

Their plane had delayed by an hour, (Y/n) was tense and looked around her, paranoid that someone could be working for Jotaro. Jolyne was taking a small nap curled up in her seat and her head on (Y/n)'s lap. (Y/n) had made sure to purchase lots of snacks, gum, sucking sweets, water and a few books at a nearby gift shop. The flight was a 12 non-stop flight to New Zealand, the one place Jotaro would never think to look for her and Jolyne. It was the perfect place for the two of them to live safe and vampire free. She dozed off, exhausted from all the stress and panic.

Soon she was awaken hear an announcement that the plane would be boarding soon and wake up Jolyne and they together gathered up their belongings and get ready to board. After they boarded the plane, the plane soon took off and they were given a light snack then they both promptly fall asleep waking up when the early morning sunlight shined onto their faces. Jolyne was rather cranky about being woken up this early. "Mama make the light go away." Jolyne grumbled as she covered her face with one of her hands while grabbing her blanket with her other hand to pull it over her face

"JoJo it's morning time and I can't make the light go away. You wanna watch a movie or a show on your screen?" (Y/n) asked while comforting her small daughter. Jolyne upon she could watch a movie or a show peeked her tiny face out of her blanket and with (Y/n)'s help used her screen to put on her favourite movie 'All Dogs go to heaven'. Jolyne settled down and watched the movie happily. Soon they were served breakfast which was sandwiches tube or ham and cheese and ethier juice, water, tea or coffee to drink. Jolyne choose tuna and juice while (Y/n) had her (choice of sandwich) and (choice of drink) and choose something to watch. She settled on (favorite show) and gave Jolyne some snacks to tide her over until lunch.

She was shaking slightly, she can't believe that her plan had actually worked, she kept on expecting something bad to happen to prevent them from reaching New Zealand. (Y/n) was terrified of what Jotaro would do if they get caught. She was inwardly panicking and freaking out about every little thing.

Hours later they arrived in New Zealand and after collecting their bags from bag claim. (Y/n) and Jolyne got into a taxi and went to a hotel that was a good distance from the airport. As soon as they got into their hotel room, Jolyne, exhausted from the all traveling they had done, collapsed onto the bed and fell asleep almost immediately. She was spread out like a starfish laying on her front with her face turned to the left side. (Y/n) smiled and tucked Jolyne under the covers being careful not to wake her up. Jolyne sleepily snuggled under the covers and snored softly and peacefully. (Y/n) rubbed her head and kissed the top of her head. "Sleep well my sweet Jolyne, have pleasant dreams and know that I will always love you my little precious JoJo." (Y/n) whispered softly.

(Y/n), while feeling extremely tired from traveling herself, went through all the bags and suitcases to make sure she haven't forgotten anything considering that they wouldn't be returning back to Jotaro's house. After triple checking all the bags and suitcases, she let out a breathe she didn't know she was holding and got onto the bed and put on the tv, turning down the volume to 10 and leaned back against the soft and comfortable pillows. She put on some random show and ended up falling asleep ten minutes later. They had a lot to do after all.

The next few weeks were rather exhausting and quite stressful, not that Jolyne noticed, she was busy enjoying everything because it was all new and exciting which (Y/n) was extremely thankful for, the last thing she wanted was for Jolyne to figure what was really going on. It was far more difficult than she had originally thought to get a place to live , a lot of places ethier didn't have the space, was in a shady and dangerous neighborhood or were way out of her budget. But thankfully she had found a house that wasn't too far from the beach and she had already appiled and been accepted for a teaching job at a nearby primary school. However, she was still on egde that Jotaro would just pop up in her and Jolyne's new house. That bastard would never let go of her or Jolyne, he claimed that he loved them but (Y/n) didn't think that someone like Jotaro was even capable of actually loving anyone. He was aggressive, possessive, obsessive, dangerous, unpredictable and very much capable of pretending to be something he wasn't. (Y/n) at times wondered what was happening with Jotaro and what he was doing now. Not out of concern but mainly out of curiosity.

(Four months later)

Jotaro appeared calm and collected at first glance but when one looked again and more closely, they would soon notice his eyes were filled with of pure rage and fury, that his fists were clenched and shaking and that it was clear that something was very wrong.

Jotaro can't believe that his darling (Y/n) had actually left him and had taken their adorable, precious Jolyne with her. He had no idea about where they had gone or why they had left. Wasn't his (Y/n) happy with him? He had given her and Jolyne almost everything they could every want and need. He had thought and thought and he can't think of any logical reason why (Y/n) would want to leave him.

And he deciced that it didn't matter, what was important was that his darling (Y/n) and Jolyne were gone and he didn't have any clue about where they were or where they could have gone. His beloved (Y/n) had been extremely clever and had made sure to cover up her and Jolyne's tracks. He had always loved how clever and determined his darling (Y/n) but right now he cursed her cleverness and determination. Not that he would change anything about his darling (Y/n), he adored everything about her, flaws, imperfections and all. It was extremely annoying in this situation. His family and friends were kind enough to offer him assistance in searching for his darling (Y/n) and Jolyne.

So far, they had little to no success in locating the two but they were all stubborn and determined and refused to give up on the search for (Y/n) and Jolyne. Jotaro was currently on the phone with his mother, Holly Kakyion Kujo, she had been extremely upset when she had found out about (Y/n)'s and Jolyne's disappearance. She still was rather sad about it, which just made Jotaro even more furious despite how he treated his mother when he was younger, he did love his mother and hated it when she was hurt, sick or upset. He can't believe that his darling (Y/n) had hurt him, his mother and the rest of his family like this. He would make sure to punish his darling (Y/n) thoroughly for doing this to them.

"Oh Jotaro, I do hope that nothing bad had happened to them. It would break my heart if something horrible happened to ethier of them." His mother said worry, anxiety and fear filling her voice. It was clear to Jotaro that the longer Jolyne and (Y/n) were missing, the greater it would affect his mother and him.

"Mom if anything did happen to them, which knowing my lovely (Y/n) is very unlikely, I would personally tear whoever was responsible apart." Jotaro buntally repiled his voice shaking with rage at the mere thought of someone hurting his lovely (Y/n) and his adorable little girl.

His mother sighed then answered with "I suppose you have a point Jotaro. Well it was nice to catch up with you. Hopefully (Y/n) and little Jolyne are found soon. I love you Jotaro. Talk to you tomorrow. Bye." "Love you too mom. Bye." They hanged up at the same time. It was always nice to talk to his mother.

Later, Jotaro was about to head out for his nightly hunting, when he heard the phone ringing again. He was curious about who was ringing and picked up. "Hello?" "Jotaro its me your stepfather." Came the voice of his best friend and stepfather Noriaki Kakyoin. "Hey Noriaki, what is it?" Jotaro repiled slightly annoyed at being reminded about his mother's recent remarriage. He was happy for her cause his sperm donor was a shit father and husband but it was really weird that his stepfather was the same age as him.

"I found them Jotaro. They are alive and healthy." Noriaki responded. Jotaro nearly collapsed onto the floor, he can't believe what he was hearing. He had only one question.

"Where?"

(Two days later)

After Jotaro had gathered all the necessary information, he had the SPW Foundation help him with the boring stuff of travel and was currently on a private jet heading straight for New Zealand. He can't believe that this whole time his darling (Y/n) and Jolyne had been there. It was the last place he would have thought to look.

He was excited to see his darling (Y/n) and his adorable Jolyne. But he was also angry because of what his (Y/n) had done, it was completely unacceptable and dangerous. Anything could happen to her or Jolyne, they had been extremely lucky this time. He had place hidden cameras in the house and installed a security system that had a code that only he and his family knew. (Y/n) wouldn't be allowed to access to the code at all and would keep under a tight leash from now on.

After the jet had landed, Jotaro took a taxi to his lovely (Y/n)'s temporarily home. When he had arrived, he immediately look all around the outside of the house and found a basement door that didn't seem able to lock. He went inside and went into the basement. Jotaro could hear his (Y/n)'s breathing and her heart beating. She seemed to be sleeping. Jolyne was also sleeping judging by the sounds of her familiar snoring. Jotaro creeped upstairs being very careful not to make a sound, as to not alert (Y/n) or Jolyne. He then sneaked through the house, checking it out.

It wasn't at suitable for perement living but maybe it could as a holiday home?

After he finished inspecting the house, Jotaro went to his beloved (Y/n)'s room and peeked inside. Her blankets were scattered all over the bed, her legs peeking out. She looked as sexy as always. Jotaro could feel himself getting turned on and immediately creeped into the room and started getting undressed, carefully placing his clothes on her desk. They had been apart for too long and he needed this so bad.

After Jotaro finished stripping, he quietly and quickly walked over to bed, carefully pulled the blankets off his beloved (Y/n)'s body. She was sleeping in a t shirt and panties. He slowly and carefully pulled her panties off and fingered her pussy to prepare her, not that she deserved it. (Y/n) was letting out soft moans as her pussy get wet. Jotaro smiled smugly at this, only he could see and hear his beloved (Y/n) in this state.

After he had gotten her pussy wet enough, removed his fingers from her pussy which he promptly sucked her juices off his fingers. Sweet as always, he then crawled over to his (Y/n) and spread her legs and rubbed his cock against her entrance. He kissed (Y/n) on the lips and pushed his cock inside her right and wet pussy which caused (Y/n) to wake up. Her screams were muffled under his lips, after he stopped kissing her, he covered her mouth with his left hand.

He thrusted into her, starting off slow and gentle, gradually speeding up. He sucked on her neck leaving dark marks on her skin. Jotaro pulled her t shirt over her breasts and played with her breasts with his right hand while licking and sucking her breasts. God he missed this, he missed her. (Y/n) had made a few futile attempts to get away from him which he quickly stopped.

"I missed you so much my love. I don't understand why you would ever want to leave. I am going to fuck another baby into you and when we get back home. You aren't going ever leave me again. And rest assured you will be punished." Jotaro growled as he sped up, going harder and deeper into her, hitting her womb with each thrust.

God this felt so good, making love to (Y/n) was so addicting and every time they made love, he became more and more addicted to her body. All too soon Jotaro could feel himself on the verge of cumming. While it was annoying, there was always when they get back home. Jotaro groaned as he came inside of his beloved (Y/n)'s pussy, filling her pussy with his cum, impregnating her again. He removed his left hand from her mouth. She had been crying for some time now. Probably upset that she didn't get to cum. "I love you my (Y/n)." Jotaro wrapped his arms around, keeping his cock inside of her, plugging her up.

(One year later)

(Y/n) was breastfeeding her son Jonah who had born a month prematurely and was only a few weeks old and unlike Jolyne constantly demanded attention from her and seemed to be always hungry. Jolyne was downstairs with her dad who was helping her with her homework. Jotaro had punished her by cutting her Achilles tendons, she still can't walk properly. Jotaro refused to allow to be left alone which was his mother was in the nuersy with her cleaning up.

(Y/n) had to be an act to pretend to be Jotaro's adoring wife to applease him and his family but inwardly hated Jotaro even more then she did before. Maybe one day she could escape with both of her children. Maybe.

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nekojitachan · 5 years

Note

59. this year my family has decided we’re celebrating the holidays on a cruise and you’re the cute bartender who teases me for mourning the lack of snow, andreil?

*******

HATFORDS (so AU)

*******

Abram gave Jamie an incredulous look when she showed up at his flat with the news that Aunt Miriam had booked a Portugal river cruise for the family over the holidays. “Why?” he asked for what had to be the fourth time. “Doesn’t she understand that there’s work and-”

“It’s because of work that she did it,” Jamie said as she stepped out of his closet with one of his suitcases. “This way you and Uncle Stuart aren’t too busy with stuff to attend the family dinner or even take a break, nor Henry off in Edinburgh like last year.”

“So she traps us together on a boat,” Abram said as he wandered off to fetch a bottle of wine - no, wait, gin would be better. Jamie trailed after him, a bemused grin on her face when she saw him fetch the bottle. “Traps us on a boat with Ally.”

That wiped away Jamie’s smile and made her fetch another glass, which she motioned for him to pour gin into, along with a splash of lime juice. “All right, perhaps it’s not one of Mum’s best ideas but it won’t be too bad.” She sighed when Abram scoffed at that statement. “I’ll help you throw the git overboard if he causes trouble?”

He had a few swallows of the rather strong gin gimlet while he considered the offer. “Can we weigh him down first?”

“Hmm… sadly, no. Mum at least would probably object, possibly Dad, too.”

Dammit, he supposed his aunt and uncle were somewhat attached the pain in the ass, and would have to settle for the thought of Ally swallowing copious amounts of river water and looking like a drowned rat.

Abram spent the days leading up to the cruise working frantically on everything in his inbox, on clearing out as much he could before Aunt Miriam’s ‘no work unless absolutely vital to the organization’ moratorium came into effect. He didn’t know what he was going to do during the ten day cruise when he was used to just spending a day or two on the holidays at best.

He was eternally grateful for his aunt and uncles in taking him in, in providing him sanctuary when his mother had worked up the courage to send him away after his father had broken his left arm and left him covered with cuts for ‘interrupting’ an important meeting - he’d been little more than six years old at the time, and already bore several scars from his father’s ‘lessons’, including one from an iron on his shoulders. His mother had finally reached her breaking point, at least in regards to the abuse directed his way, and he’d been on a plane the next day, confused and doing his best to hide his fear while he traveled with a stranger (an old Hatford associate) to London.

His mother hadn’t lasted long after that act of defiance, which the Hatfords had made sure Nathan Wesninski had paid for, and Abram had never forgotten the debt he owed his mother for ensuring he escaped that house of fear and pain, nor her family for taking him in. He loved Stuart for giving him a real home at last, as well as Uncle Will, Aunt Miriam and his cousins… he just wish they’d leave him alone to do his job.

“Don’t look so glum,” Bren said as the enforcer drove him to the airport, where he’d catch a flight to Lisbon for the first part of the cruise. “You’ll see some pretty things, enjoy some good food and drinks, and bring back a bunch of stupid shite for us, right? Just try not to kill anyone during your holiday and surprise us all.”

Abram glared at his bodyguard/friend through the rear-view mirror. “Very funny. Just for that, no souvenirs for you.”

“Okay, go ahead and kill someone,” Bren sulked. “Don’t want you to be all grumpy when you don’t get to be stabby.” He laughed when Abram made a rude gesture. “Least I don’t have to be the one to clean it up this time!”

Abram wished Bren a happy holiday with his girlfriend (part of the reason the man was staying behind in London while Davis, Cal and Liz were tagging along to help watch over the family), then checked in and joined the rest of the family in the VIP lounge; it was odd to be flying for personal reasons and not business for once.

He had a glass of wine while waiting for the flight and chatted with Stuart, Henry and Liz while Jamie seemed to be stuck with keeping Ally under control. They kept their discussion general, about the changes to the itinerary they planned over the next week and a half (Abram loved his aunt, but there was only so much ‘tourist’ stuff he could do) until it was time to board the plane.

Ally kept leaning over his seat to ask Abram for pick-up lines in Portuguese, until Aunt Miriam used that particular tone of voice of hers to make him sit back down and behave, at which point in time Abram pulled out his tablet and watched a movie in Russian (passable, but a good excuse to keep his headphones in and ignore everyone else).

It was a short drive to the hotel where they were staying for the first day; Abram had been to Lisbon twice before so he only left his room when Jamie dragged him out for some drinks and snacks, rarely able to refuse her anything. He had to admit that it was an enjoyable few hours, watching the way that his cousin drew men’s attention, the confident yet not cruel way she turned them down, content to spend the time with him.

“Some of them are interested in you,” she pointed out. “Still no interest?”

“Still no interest.” He knew his cousins hoped that he’d find someone to date one day, that his uncles and aunt worried about him, but after what had happened to his mother and the Walker syndicate’s attempt to ‘sweeten’ him up that time… no, he was fine. He’d never had more than a passing interest in anyone, male or female, and was best on his own.

“You need to live more, Ram,” Jamie told him. “Do more than translate and look after the family.” When he gave her a blank stare for that statement, she sighed and shook her head. “Okay, I won’t bring it up for the rest of the year.”

“Lucky me,” he said, the words loaded with sarcasm since that wasn’t much of a reprieve and she knew it.

The next day was spent touring the city during the first half, then they finally got on the boat so they could set sail on the river to Porto. At least Aunt Miriam had booked them the largest rooms that the boat had, so Abram had a small bedroom and a sitting area, as well as a balcony and private bath.

He spent part of the first afternoon exploring the ship, making sure he knew as much of it as possible (old habits from work, from needing to know the exits to everywhere and places to hide in case the job went pear-shaped), then met up with everyone for dinner. As Bren had said, the food was good and there were several bottles of wine to go along with it, although he only had two glasses; he enjoyed watching his family relax, in hearing Uncle Will and Stuart retell stories from their childhood, to watch Jamie and Henry and even Ally laugh.

Cal and Liz made sure that everyone got back to their rooms safely, though Stuart asked Abram to join him at one of the bars, where he ordered a gin gimlet and a whisky for them. “I wish your mother was here for this,” he said after the bartender, a young man with blond hair who appeared even shorter than Abram’s 5′3″ height, served them their drinks. “She’s the only thing missing.” He raised his glass in a toast. “To Mary.”

“To Mary,” Abram echoed as he clinked their glasses together, his throat tight as he thought about his mother. “Though she’d complain about wasting all this money when we could have just stayed at home.”

Stuart snorted at that, to the point that he almost spilled his drink. “Damn right she would, unless it was her idea in the first place.” He shook his head and stared at Abram with something resembling nostalgia. “You’re so much like her, you know?” That surprised Abram because from what he could tell, he took after his detested father with his pale blue eyes and auburn hair, even down to most of his facial features - what he had inherited from his mother was the Hatfords’ lack of height and slim build. “There’s days when I think she sent you to me so I’d be plagued by her all over again.” Now his expression was pure fondness.

“I try my best,” Abram admitted, the words rough as he thought about how he did do his best not to let his uncle down.

“I know, kiddo.” Stuart reached out to ruffle his hair; Abram caught the bartender gazing at them and had to wonder what the man thought of their conversation.

Fortunately it took a more mundane turn after that, with them joking about what to get Bren and the others for souvenirs, and after one more drink they retired to their respective rooms. Abram found himself returning to the bar often, either to get out of his room or to join one or more of his cousins, or for an after-dinner drink with Stuart. Most of the time, the handsome bartender with the intent hazel eyes was there, to the point that he’d have a gin gimlet ready for Abram soon after he arrived.

It was when they’d reached Régua that Abram sat down at the bar alone, his mood sour as he thought about ‘celebrating’ Christmas Eve with his family in another couple of hours. “Aren’t you supposed to be wandering around some palace,” the bartender - Andrew - asked as he set down the gin gimlet.

“I’m not really in the mood for that,” Abram confessed as he stirred the drink with the plastic stick. “For pretending to ‘ooh’ and ‘ahh’, or dealing with Ally asking me yet again for pick-up lines I don’t even know, or smiling for my aunt when I’m bored out of my bloody mind.” He let out a weary sigh before he picked up the drink and drained most of it in one go. “And I’m bloody sick of all this sun,” he added on to the growing list before he set the glass down on the immaculate bar. “I want to be back in London, or at least Aunt Miriam could have picked a place with snow. I miss snow - what’s the point of a holiday trip when there’s no snow? Why can’t we be at some chalet or something?” Then he thought about it for a moment. “Except I don’t like skiing, I suppose. Might be worth it, though, to shove Ally off a mountain.” Oops, he probably shouldn’t have said that in front of Andrew.

Except there was the slightest of quirks to the left corner of Andrew’s mouth as he wiped at the already clean bar. “Of course you’d whine about such a thing. I don’t like snow, though I agree with you on shoving your one cousin off a cliff.”

“Hmm.” Abram finished his drink then indicated he wanted another one. “You’re American, what are you doing working a cruise like this?” That had been bothering him the last few days, and if Andrew was willing to talk…. “Sorry, if that’s a personal question.”

Andrew shrugged then surprised Abram by pouring another drink - a whisky, neat - which appeared to be for him. “My cousin lives in Germany and after I graduated university, I decided to stay with him for a while. Was looking for a job and since I knew bartending and German, this was a good fit.” He paused to toss back the drink, his attention never wavering from Abram. “I don’t usually work this cruise, I stick with German ones, but I was asked to fill in.”

“I’m glad you did,” Abram said, and for some reason he felt his cheeks heat up. “Uhm, I mean… you do a very good job?” Why did that come out as a squeak?

Andrew continued to regard him for several seconds then motioned to the ignored gin gimlet in front of Abram, which he’d been neglecting. “What do you mean by not knowing any pick-up lines? I’ve heard you speak Portuguese and it sounds rather fluent to me.”

Abram had to wait until he finished swallowing to answer. “Ah, it’s just… I don’t pick people up? People don’t hit on me?” Did that make sense?

“I find that difficult to believe,” Andrew said as he looked Abram up and down; usually Abram found the gesture insulting, but right then… right then he felt his cheeks heat up again.

“I just, haven’t been interested in people before,” he tried to explain. “No one stands out to me.”

“No one?” Andrew continued to gaze at him until Abram had to duck his head and finish his drink.

“Ah… no, not usually.”

It was quiet for about a minute or two, during which Andrew cleaned their glasses and Abram attempted to figure out what was going on. “You live in London?” Andrew finally asked.

“Yes.” Abram smiled, the expression a bit lopsided. “Though I do travel a lot for work.” He hoped that Andrew didn’t ask him about his ‘job’.

All the other man did was nod. “Yes, so do I.”

It was quiet again after that, with Andrew off to pour drinks for some other guests and Abram answering texts from Jamie and Stuart on his phone. He was about to leave when another gin gimlet was set down in front of him. “I have a day off soon,” Andrew told him. “When we dock at Salamanca. Could use an interpreter.” He didn’t say anything else, just stared at Abram as if daring him to do something.

Abram found himself smiling as he picked up the drink. “I’ve been told I’m a very good interpreter, as it happens to stand.”

Andrew nodded once then left to deal with more guests, which left Abram to finish his drink (it probably should be his last one if he didn’t want to embarrass himself at dinner). Even as he left the bar, the smile lingered on his lips, his foul mood from earlier utterly vanquished.

Perhaps Aunt Miriam’s idea had been a good one after all.

He still hoped to be able to throw Ally overboard before they returned to Porto, though.

*******

I couldn’t see Andrew teasing Abram THAT much, sorry. Not when they don’t know each other too well yet.

So this is an Armies AU? Something like that. My head hurts.

#nekojitachanfics #andreil #neil josten #except he's abram here #andrew minyard #aftg #winter holiday prompt #i really abuse poor ally don't i #hatfords

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natysadventureblog · 5 years

Text

Canada here I come!

02 and 03-Aug-2017

It's finally time to go on my new adventure!! I wasn't used to waiting this long, anymore!!

Well my flight was at 21h, from the international airport, which is at least an hour away from where I live, and my parents weren't gonna be able to give me a ride this time, so I had to take the shuttle from the other airport. Since we should be there 3 hours before the flight, I had to be there at 18h, and there was a chance there would be some protests on the way, so I left home at 15h30, to take the 16h10 bus. Unfortunately, this wasn't free like the last one, but I got a discount buying both ways at once, so it cost me a total of R$73. Thankfully it all went well and I got there about 1:10 later (but for some reason the AC in the bus was at 15°C!!! WHYYYYY??? It was around 20°C outside... it was nice!! Why did we have to freeze???).

Right after I got to the airport I had an accident, though... it was way too ridiculous to tell here, but let's just say it involved an escalator and me trying to prevent my big bag from falling on the guy behind me...

Oh well, now I'll have matching scars (remember the time I almost broke my left leg, last year?) and the right leg of my jeans is ripped... hahaha, it hurts, but not as badly as it looks... I thought it was gonna hurt a lot later, but it wasn't too bad.

I spent some time re-arranging my bag, because even though I can always bring 32Kg with me on these long international flights, my last flight before my final destination would be from a different company, and it would be a domestic flight, so I wasn't sure they were gonna allow over 23Kg, and I didn't want to take my chances.

Once I had checked in and checked my bag, I ate the food I brought with me (cause everything at GRU airport is ridiculously expensive) and went to the gate area.

Because everything before that took so long, I didn't have to wait much, and soon I was on the plane.

I hadn't flown United Airlines in years, and it sure made me miss SAA... very little leg room, BUT the food definitely improved since last time (which was disgusting... well, the coffee still is, to be honest)! I even got dessert! And my flight attendant was my favorite ever!!

I missed breakfast, though, because nobody bothered waking me up (I had a terrible night of sleep, because the lady next to me wouldn't stop moving and bumping into me), so I only woke up to the sound of people unwrapping their croissants. But I asked for mine after they served the beverages.

We arrived in Newark around 5h30, and for a moment I got pretty scared... so, Canada doesn't have a specific law for volunteer work and such, so we don't need a work visa, BUT depending on the person at customs, they might not let you in the country because you're gonna be working, even if it's for free, so we have to say we're just travelling. So, arriving in the US, I didn't expect the lady to ask me what I was gonna do in Canada, so I just answered honestly, and she asked me if I had a visa for that, and I told her that because it's an unpaid internship, I only need a tourist visa (not even a tourist visa, actually, just an ETA), so she just let me through, but she was stamping my passport and writing on it, so I was terrified, thinking that she might have written something that could get me in trouble!! Thankfully it was just her signature and the date! *Phew*

I was supposed to board for Montréal at 7h20, but the flight was delayed... like REALLY delayed!! I was supposed to arrive there at 9h something, and the plane only took off at 10h40!!! I was supposed to board my next flight at 11h25!!!! Well, we landed at 11h30, and I still had to go through customs and re-check my bag, not to mention that I was in the back of the plane, so I had to wait for everybody to get off... the flight attendant even called them to let them know (because nobody bothered mentioning the flights that could be missed because of the delay, as I'm used to hearing, when the plane lands)... I ran!! Customs was actually fine... I was in such a hurry that I didn't even say all that I was planning on saying... I got to the counter to re-check my bag at 11h55 (the plane was supposed to depart at 11h50)... they didn't wait for me... but the ladies were really nice and got me on the next flight, which was about 5 hours later.

Oh! There was a nice snack on the plane!

Oh! I asked them about the weight, for when I'm coming back, and I'm still allowed 32Kg! Woo-hoo!! I get to buy stuff!!

Well, I had enough time to check out the entire airport and choose what I'm gonna buy for my family on the way back. I stopped at Starbucks for a MMM (Marble Mocha Macchiato), but had to google how to make it, because the baristas didn't know it (it's basically a caramel mocha, but with white mocha instead of vanilla, and dark mocha drizzled on top). It ended up costing me quite a lot, but I love it and hadn't had it since 2013, so I deserved it!

And after all that stress, from both yesterday and today, I felt like I deserved to eat something nice and different, so I got myself some lobster tacos!! They were super yummy!! But I forgot that here the taxes are added later, so it actually cost me even more than I expected... oh well, I'll just have to skip a few meals to make it up for it! Haha

The previous airports only had free wifi for 30 minutes, but thankfully, the wifi at the Montréal airport is unlimited, so it was actually some nice 5 hours of rest.

My next flight was also delayed, but only for half an hour. The plane was SO tiny!! Like, seriously!! There were about 30 seats!! Haha, but they gave us mini pretzels and water.

At 20h, I finally arrived in Sept-Îles, my final destination for the day... the sun was setting and it was quite pretty, but unfortunately I wasn't by the window.

From there I had to take a taxi to the hostel. I was told it would cost around CAD25.00, but thankfully it was less than C$23.00!

The lady at the front desk was really nice, but didn't speak much English. She showed me to my dorm (I had to carry my big bag to the basement) and I didn't have the energy to do much before going to bed, aside from showering.

Oh! I met this guy who's sharing the bunk bed with me, and was asking him about what to do tomorrow (my only day in Sept-Îles), and he mentioned this island that he was actually planning on going to tomorrow. So we'll do that.

Now time to get some rest so I can make the most of my time here!

#traveling #adventuring #airport #internship #Canada

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fluffy-marshmallow-heart · 6 years

Text

TRR New Beginnings Ch.6-Confessions, part 1

This is a 2 part chapter because it got a little long!

Words: 1950

After Drake changed into dry clothes he waited for Emma to return from the lake. When she walked in she was shivering, her once dry clothes clinging to her wet body and her wet hair plastered around her face. Drake knew she had brought some clothes with her, but he had already grabbed her a spare shirt and pair of boxes from his closet. He walked over to her and held them out

“Here, Rose. “

She frowned and said “Drake, I brought my own clothes.”

He smiled softly at her. “I know but…now you don’t have to dig through your suitcase.”

Slowly she reached out and took the clothes from him, their fingers brushing. Drake felt it immediately, that lightning bolt of pure connection. Judging by the way she yanked her hand back he knew she felt it too. She quickly shut herself into the bathroom. When she came back out Drake had trouble breathing. She looked so beautiful and so damn sexy wearing his clothes. He immediately wanted to tear them off and claim her as he had done over a year ago. But no. He needs to do this right. She’s obviously still a bit uncomfortable here. As she walked towards him brushing her hair she finally returned his smile.

"Thanks Drake. These are quite comfortable. I might have to steal these and never give them back” she joked.

Drake laughed “We’ll see.”

But on the inside he was screaming HELL YES, take everything I have and stay with me.

As the couch was still turned into a bed Drake decided he could make some food instead and they could sit in the kitchen. He was having trouble concentrating seeing her in his clothes with a bed so close by. For about the 10th time that day alone he tells himself he needs to do this right.

“Are you hungry, Rose?” She nodded. “OK, well I don’t have much but….” Drake trailed off as he eyed his fridge for the first time. Then looked in his cabinets. They were all full. Liam. He heard a chuckle behind him. He turned, surprised.

"Drake did you really just now realize that Liam shopped for you? He really wasn’t kidding when he said you barely ate, huh?”

Drake frowned. He was starting to wonder what Liam had told her about him. He had barely seen Liam throughout the whole past year, how much could he possibly know? His thoughts were interrupted again by another chuckle. Shaking her head and smiling Emma walked to the fridge and peeked inside herself, then checked the cabinets. She smirked.

"He told me he had groceries brought here but didn’t tell me what. He really went all out. With all this food we probably don’t have to leave the cabin for at least a month.”

She froze as she realized what she just said, and Drake’s breath hitched. A month?? Liam really wants us to stay here alone for a month?? Drake’s heart soared at the thought, but Emma had a look of shock on her face. Clearly, she wasn’t as happy about it. She cleared her throat.

“Well, don’t feel bad. I didn’t exactly eat a lot either. Minimum wage is no joke.” She gave him a half smile then turned back around. “So. What are we in the mood for? We could do breakfast, lunch, brunch, dinner, dessert…snacks. Umm. Basically anything we can think of” Her laugh was genuine this time.

Drake smiled and said “well since it’s lunchtime we should have lunch. I’ll cook. You have a seat.” She turned towards him and raised an eyebrow.

“The great Drake Walker can cook? Now this I have to see.” She glanced at him as she took a seat at the island in the middle of the kitchen.

"Oh please, Rose. I’ve got moves you’ve never seen.”

He meant it as a joke but both her eyebrows shot up at the comment. He quickly he backtracked

“I mean, erm, in the kitchen, I have moves in the kitchen.”

He started mumbling to himself as he took out ingredients. Way to go Walker. Real smooth. I’m sure she was just so impressed. He rolled his eyes at himself. Such an idiot. He took out a slab of roast beef and started slicing. Next he took out the bell peppers and sliced those. He took out bread, butter, garlic, and swiss cheese. They were both quiet as he cooked but he could feel her eyes watching his every move. Drake plated the food and turned back to Emma with flourish.

“Tada!” he sang out as he placed her plate in front of her. She bit her lip to try to contain her laughter.

“Is this…Philly Cheesesteak?” Emma laughed.

“No. It’s Cordonia cheesesteak. Remember when I tried to explain the difference to you before? The meat is more succulent, the peppers sweeter. It’s grilled on garlic bread” He rubbed his hand on the back of his neck and spilled the rest out in a rush. “Plus you don’t like onions and swiss cheese is your favorite.” He met her eyes.

“You remembered” she said softly. He smiled sadly at her.

“Of course I do. I remember everything, Emma.”

A look of surprise crossed her face. It was very rare that he called her by her first name. The only times he did was when he was shocked by something or he was being dead serious. She was fully aware of it. She swallowed, hard, then turned her attention to her food.

"Well it smells delicious.”

Drake watched as she took a big bite of the sandwich. She closed her eyes and moaned in pleasure as the flavors melted together in her mouth.

"This is the most perfect Cordonian Cheesesteak I have ever had Drake Walker. Thank you.” She held her sandwich up and they toasted with them. They finished their meal in comfortable silence, stealing glances at each the entire time.

When they were done Drake cleared the table. He moved to her bed and folded it up back into a couch. “We need to talk, Rose.” He said, sitting down. She got up from the table and slowly went to sit next to him on the couch. She looked at him, expectantly. It was clear she was not going to initiate the conversation, so he started.

“I went to New York to find you and bring you back. I was devastated when you left, but I really thought I was doing the right thing. When you left the country…well, everyone asked me why. When I told everyone what I had said to you…obviously everyone was incredibly angry with me. Savannah actually slapped me. Liam stopped speaking to me. He was both pissed and hurt. I really thought I lost him as a friend. I had no idea that my actions would cause everyone I cared about so much pain. I hated myself for it, for all of it. So I got on a plane and looked for you for weeks. But I couldn’t find you. I came back and built this cabin, hoping beyond hope that you would come back on your own, or reach out to someone here but…there was nothing.” Drake closed his eyes as they started to water.

“I’m so sorry, Rose. Letting you go was the worst thing I have ever done…I knew it as soon as I said it but you were already gone” He whispered. He felt her hand on his leg and his eyes shot open. He saw his own pain reflecting in her eyes.

“I knew you were looking for me” she confessed. “Daniel told me. He didn’t tell me you were actually in the city, just that he had talked to you.” She paused, thinking. “I actually never thought I would come back. I’m still a bit surprised that I’m here myself.”

“What made you come back with Liam?” Drake couldn’t stop himself from asking. He had to know. She blushed.

“Honestly, I think a lot of it was shock factor.” She laughed. “When he showed up at my door it was like all the oxygen left the room. My past had finally caught up to me. And so much had changed, so much had happened…I realized I had nothing left to lose. And I thought of you, alone, drinking yourself to death and I decided if I could change that fate then I would…” She trailed off, eyes faraway. Drake put his hand on top of hers, which was still on his leg. She jumped a little and Drake squeezed her hand reassuringly. She looked down at their hands but didn’t move as she continued.

“When I left Cordonia I was still carrying you with me. A big part of you, in fact.” Drake held his breath as she looked him in the eye. “I saw the nursery upstairs, Drake. I’m assuming Maxwell told you.” Drake nodded.

“Honestly, Drake, I never told him, he just…figured it out. Cuz ya know….he was around Savannah when it happened to her. And I wasn’t going to lie to him.”

Drake closed his eyes as he remembered his last conversation with Maxwell

“Drake, you idiot!! Why did you let her go?? Why did you say that to her?? She had already chosen you, you dummy! And why the hell would you say that to her after she told you she was pregnant??”

Drake’s mouth fell open and he stared hard at Maxwell.

“What the fuck are you saying, Beaumont?”

Maxwell got in his face.

“She was fucking pregnant you moron! She literally went to your room that night to tell you. And then what. You slammed the door in her face?? Who are you right now? The Drake I know wouldn’t do that. First your sister ran away without telling you, and now Emma? You’re a piece of work.”

Drake pulled his fist back and slammed it into Maxwell’s jaw. As his friend stumbled onto the floor Drake could barely comprehend what he was saying.

“She didn’t tell me! She didn’t get a chance to say anything. Where is she Maxwell, I know you know.”

“I swear I don’t” Maxwell spat out.

“I don’t believe you! Drake roared “You knew about Savannah, you surely know about Emma. Where. Is. She.” Drake was trembling with anger.

Maxwell stood up. “I have no idea Drake. She’s just gone. I came here as soon as I heard. I should have known you wouldn’t believe me!”

He walked to the door and flung it open. “Maybe you should ask yourself why the two most important women in your life were both afraid to tell you they were pregnant and would rather leave the country. That’s not on them, Drake. It’s on you.”

Drake started towards him again, fury in his eyes when Maxwell left and slammed the door behind him. And that was the last time he spoke to Maxwell Beaumont.

Drake opened his eyes again and looked at Emma, who was studying him.

“Liam told me you had a fight with him” she said softly. “You thought he knew where I was didn’t you? And you didn’t believe him when he said he didn’t.”

Drake nodded sadly. He was such an idiot. Of course, Maxwell wouldn’t hide that from him, not again. Not after Savannah. He should have known better, Maxwell had proven himself as a friend over and over. Just like Emma had proven her love over and over. He felt like he was the world’s worst friend. Drake drew in a deep breath and grasped both of Emma’s hands with his, afraid to let go, afraid of the answer to his next question.

“Rose…what happened to our baby?”

@blackwidow2721

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@carabeth

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@andy-loves-corgis

#the royal romance #the royal romance fanfic #trr fanfic #drake walker #trr drake #drake x mc #drake x emma #choices the royal romance #choices fanfiction #choices trr

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shitfics · 6 years

Text

Ace in the Hole; ontae; nc17 (1/4)

Becoming a personal chef for an esports team in LA isn't what Jinki imagined he'd be doing to advance his career -- but it's a job, and one that'll take him far from things he's been trying to forget. The distance will give him time to recover and spend time on himself. The only hitch in his plan is the Saviors' star offense player, Taemin, who seems all too happy to strike up a friendship with him -- and something more.

ao3 mirror

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4

Hi all! It’s been a while since I posted anything...part of that’s because of working on my big wip and the other part of it is because I wanted to wait till the next thing I post is 100% done before putting it out there. Once this is all posted, it’s gonna be just under 30k. ^^ As always, thanks to my wife and my best writer buddies @minsunshine and @fleckle for betaing.<3 New parts will be posted every other day until the story is finished.

I think I’ve mentioned before that I got really into overwatch league this year? And like always, when I get into something, I write a shinee au for it... ^^; Taemin’s a pro player and Jinki is the recently-hired chef for his team. The story doesn’t require any prior knowledge of overwatch/esports...I did it kinda like my dragon age au to make sure it’s accessible to anyone. Here’s a shitty edit of tracer with what I imagine their skins to be like. (And ofc, if you want the gritty details about Taemin’s hero pool/who he’s based on/who plays what on his team I’d be happy to answer.) I tried to do my best for the cooking part with research, but obviously I don’t have in-depth knowledge of Korean cooking, so...please forgive any errors.

The room flickers in the bluish light of the muted television. Jinki adjusts the pillows stacked besides him, trying in vain to find a comfortable position. He wants to at least have a chance of dozing off, considering his new job starts tomorrow. But the leather of living room couch is unworn and unforgivingly stiff -- no better than his new bed -- and the strangeness of being out of Korea for the first time in his life would keep him awake regardless.

Tucking an arm behind his head, he squints at the time on the setbox -- 3 AM -- and settles down to continue watching the drama he’d put on an hour ago.

Despite it’s poor ratings, he’d been following the show since it started. The plot’s cliche, the dialogue’s atrocious, and the actors are awful -- but he gave it a try when he saw how much the the male lead looked like Changsun.

Jaw clenched, he reaches back for the remote.

Don’t think of him. He’s on the other side of the world.

He flicks down a channel, then one more, until he lands on the last of the three Korean-language channels available in LA. A music show isn’t something he’d normally watch, but at least the ridiculous makeup and outfits make it easy entertainment...

“I was wondering when you’d change the channel. That drama’s pretty bad, from what I’ve heard.”

Jinki jolts up. The remote falls from his hand to the wooden floor with a clatter that makes both him and the man behind the couch to flinch.

“Sorry -- I didn’t think I’d startle you.”

“It’s fine.”

In the dim light, it takes Jinki a moment to recognize the man’s face. He’d only met Taemin that afternoon, when the manager had introduced him to the team over their take-out lunch.

He picks the remote up from the floor and sets it aside, saying nothing more. They hadn’t talked during their first meeting -- Taemin had sulked silently through the meal and left for his room the moment he was done eating. All Jinki knows about him is the few facts he’d picked up from reading articles about the Savior team.

His in-game name is ACE. All caps, like most of his teammates, which apparently was a common thing with pros. Taemin is -- or was -- their star player, until his recent slump. And now he’s bearing the blame of their loss streak.

Jinki doesn’t know enough about Overwatch to say whether or not that’s true, but he knows better than to bring it up.

Taemin stuffs his hands into his pockets. “You’re up late. Are you going to be cooking for us tomorrow?”

“It’s what I was hired to do, so yeah,” Jinki says. “I’ll be making all your meals from here on out. I’m just having trouble sleeping.”

“The move is tough at first. It took my body a while to adjust to LA.”

Jinki raises a brow at him. “If you’re adjusted, why’re you up so late?”

“I was grinding out some practice and lost track of time. Then I wanted a snack, so I came out here and saw you...” He shrugs. “Figured I’d say hello.”

Jinki stares at him for a long moment, unsure what to say. It’s hard to see the relaxed, smiling man in front of him is the same gloomy one he’d met that afternoon, but he’s more than willing to toss that first impression aside. He could hardly blame him for not being chatty after another loss.

He drapes an arm over the back of the couch. “Would you want me to cook you something?”

Taemin blinks at him, surprised. “Wouldn’t that take a while?”

“Depending on how stocked the fridge is, I can probably come up with something quick.”

Taemin’s lips spread into grin. “Well, if you’re offering...”

“Sure. It’ll be good for me to get used to the kitchen before I have to cook for all nine of you tomorrow.”

With a small groan, he stands and stretches to ease out the cramps in his legs. Being crammed on a plane for half the day had made even standing feel like a chore. The living room is separated from the kitchen by only a half-counter, but Taemin still follows after him to flick the light on for him.

“I’m not really allowed to use anything but the microwave, but I can show you where things are if you have any questions...”

Jinki snorts as he opens the fridge to look for ingredients. “What’d you burn?”

“I never said I’d burned anything.”

“Usually people only are banned from kitchens after they’ve started a fire.”

“I didn’t start a fire -- just ruined one of our pans.” Taemin scratches the back of his neck, clearly embarrassed. “I was trying to make ramen and burned all the water out...”

Jinki laughs and walks to the pantry, checking it as well. There’s plenty of rice cakes in the fridge, along with gochujang, but no anchovies for the starting broth -- which he’d want, if he were to make tteokbokki to his usual standard...

He doesn’t want to make anything average, but looking at Taemin’s eager expression -- and considering his admitted lack of skills -- he has a feeling even the lazy version will impress him.

Closing the pantry door behind him, he turns to Taemin. “How does tteokbokki sound? I don’t have the ingredients to make it up to my usual standard, but--”

“That sounds amazing,” Taemin agrees, eyes alight. “Will it take long?”

“Maybe thirty minutes, at most.”

“I can wait for that.”

Smiling, Jinki pushes up his sleeves to his elbows and begins pulling the ingredients he’ll need out of the fridge. Taemin circles out around to the half-counter, where several stools had been set up along the edge, and plops down in one of them to watch as Jinki sets a pan on the stove to heat and starts cutting the green onions.

As his knife dashes against the cutting board, Taemin leans further over the counter onto his elbows, mouth open in awe.

“Damn. You really are a professional.”

Jinki laughs. “Your team is paying me, so I should hope so.”

He starts on the mix of gochujang, sugar, and pepper flakes that he’ll add with the rice cakes once the flavor of the kelp has seeped-in enough to make a broth. The stove is on the other end of the kitchen from the counter, forcing him to keep his back to Taemin as he works, but he can still tell he’s being watched.

It should make him uneasy, probably, considering they’d just met. But it’s hard for him to be uncomfortable in a kitchen, and at such a late hour, it feels more like a strange and spontaneous form of intimacy than an intrusion.

After a few minutes of stirring, the rice cakes finally turn soft, and the sauce thickens to the shiny, orange-red coating indicating its done. He dumps out the pan of tteokbokki onto the plate, feeling his own mouth begin to water as the scent wafts up, then carries it over to where Taemin is waiting -- somehow, with chopsticks already in hand.

He sets the plate down warily. “You should probably wait a minute, it’s still hot--”

Without looking up, Taemin plucks one of the steaming tteokbokki and plops it in his mouth.

Immediately, his eyes scrunch up. He flaps his hands violently and leaps out of the stool. “Shit, shit!”

Jinki holds a hand towards him, as if to help, and watches as he struggles to swallow the too-hot piece of rice cake. “I tried to warn you -- it’s not that it’s too spicy, is it?”

“No, it’s fine.” He hits his chest with his fist and coughs. “I’m just a dumbass.”

“Or just really hungry?”

Taemin grins back at him. “It can be both.” He picks up another piece, and this time he blows on it thoroughly before placing it in his mouth and letting out a small and satisfied moan. “These are good. We got some from this Korean place we found nearby, but nothing can beat having a personal chef make you a serving of tteokbokki at four in the morning.”

With a light laugh, Jinki grabs a pair of chopsticks from one of the kitchen drawers and takes a seat. Taemin eyes him suspiciously.

“I’m not that hungry, don’t worry. I just want a few.”

“I was just teasing,” Taemin says. “You made them, so you can have as many as you want.”

Jinki smiles and picks one up for himself, chewing it critically as Taemin quickly makes his way through another three of the rice cakes. After grabbing one more, he gestures for Taemin to have the rest, watching from the corner of his eye as he concentrates wholeheartedly on devouring the entire plate of food.

He’s cute, when he eats. Jinki hadn’t noticed before -- because of how surly he’d seemed, and because of how focused he’d been on making a good impression with the rest of the Savior team -- but now he can’t help but admire Taemin’s looks. His jaw is well-defined, his smile handsome, and his hair is a plain black that draws attention to his dark eyes and the silver piercings he has in both ears. Though his hair is messy, it looks good, and Jinki watches with a little too much interest when Taemin stops eating for a moment to run a hand through his bangs.

When Taemin finally shifts his attention away from the tteokbokki to meet his eyes, he quickly looks away.

Taemin frowns at him. “You want the last one?” His lips pout around the question as he pokes the rice cake with his chopsticks.

Jinki shakes his head. “No, you can have it.”

With a broad smile and a small mumble of thanks, Taemin picks up the last rice cake and eats it without hesitation. The silence that follows is comfortable, but Jinki finds himself zoning out and nearly staring again. He quickly pushes back the barstool and picks up the now-empty plate, bringing it with him as he hurries to the kitchen.

“I’ll clean this up. We should get some sleep, since you have a game tomorrow.”

“Yeah, probably.” Taemin agrees, though his head is tilted in clear confusion at Jinki’s dash away. “Thanks again for cooking -- I’m looking forward to breakfast.”

Jinki gives him a parting nod before he leaves the room, then turns his attention to the dishes and exhales.

* * *

Spoons and chopsticks clatter in the background as Coach Sooman goes over the Savior’s strategy for the match ahead. There’s no manners among the players in the scramble to finish off all the food Jinki had cooked for their first meal of the day. Elbows bump into hands as the players reach for second servings of side dishes, and squabbles over the last remaining pieces of meat are resolved with hushed games of paper-scissors-rock whenever their coach stops in his speech to look down at his playbook.

Coach Sooman flips a page and looks to Taemin and Joy, his partner on offense.

“We’ll have to be careful not to get caught up in any one-vs-one with the Lion’s offense. With Taemin’s performance lately, there’s no guarantee we’d win that duel, and we know they’ll use that as a distraction to dive on our backline.”

“Got it,” Joy says as Taemin grabs another piece of egg. When he hums happily and reaches for another, the coach sighs.

“I’m talking to you, Taemin. Stop stuffing your face and at least make a show of listening.”

Taemin’s eyes crinkle at the corners when he looks up. “Sorry. The new chef is just really good.”

Jinki hides his smile by looking down at the dish he’s washing, but not before sharing it with Taemin.

The coach grumbles and clears his throat. “Yes, we’re all hoping having you well-fed will get us out of our slump. But we can’t win with our stomachs alone.”

Taemin laughs lightly. “Yeah, but it’ll help.”

“We hope so,” Coach Sooman stands, lips tight. “Get ready to be out in ten. We’ll do our first scrim and warm up at the arena.”

The sound of chairs being pushed back fills the dining room as half the team stands to gather their things. Jinki wishes each player good luck when they pass the kitchen and file out the front door.

Once the team is gone, he finishes cleaning up the team’s dishes from the first meal and the rest of the kitchen so he has the whole counter to work on the post-match dinner. He’s planned to go all-out, with the coach’s permission -- short ribs and a few dozen side dishes -- and has to get started on the marinade and figuring out the grill in the house’s backyard.

The Saviors’ game starts at four. He puts it on his phone to watch from the corner of his eye as he washes and cuts vegetables. Though he hasn’t the slightest idea how to follow a game as fast-paced as Overwatch appears to be, the match casters’ commentary makes it obvious the Saviors are falling short.

The final score is a disappointing three-one. When the last map is lost, the camera pans out to the team’s faces, which scale between stoic to downcast. Taemin’s frustration when they stand to shake hands with the winning team is obvious, from the tension of his bows, and it’s then that Jinki closes the stream to focus on getting the grill started so it’ll be ready when the team returns.

Judging by how much the team had enjoyed the earlier meal, he’s going to be able to lift their spirits with the feast he’s preparing.

The team’s return brings life back to the team house, though the air is tense. Kibum, Joy, and Wonsik pile into the den for a hushed post-mortem of their match, while Minho and Taemin disappear upstairs into their shared room without a word.

Only when he begins bringing food to the table does the mood seem to lift. The first plate of ribs he brings in from the grill pulls the group from the den into the dining room, and a few minutes later, the rest of the team has piled in to eat the side dishes he’d placed on the table and watch him eagerly through the window as he cooks the next serving of meat. Every bite is followed with praise, and the coach waves him over after clearing his plate.

“We made a good move, hiring you. I haven’t ever seen Minho bounce back from a loss like this.” He nods to the tall, lean-built man on the far end of the table. “He and Taemin take losses hard -- they usually sulk in their room the rest of the night after one. It’s good to see at least one of them get out here with us.”

“I’m glad to help,” Jinki says. “Do you think there’s some kind of meal that could drag Taemin out, too?”

Before the coach can answer, Kibum -- who Jinki has pegged as the blunt one of the team -- scoffs. “If meat doesn’t bring him out of his cave, nothing will. I think he’ll always be testy when he underperforms.”

Coach Sooman glances at him sidelong. “Remember what I said about discussing your teammates?”

Kibum sighs heavily and reaches for another piece of cubed radish. “It’s not mean if it’s the truth...”

Before Sooman can respond, Jinki bows out by picking up a few empty dishes and returning to the kitchen. He might work for the team, but he’s not sure he wants to be privy to their grudges.

The rest of the night, thankfully, passes without any more internal strife. He cleans up after the team leaves, hand-washing the quality pans and cutting boards he’d used, and loading up the dishwasher with all the serving bowls and utensils that’d been dirtied over the night. By the time it’s done, he’s exhausted, and he eagerly returns to his single room to collapse into bed.

He opens up a phone game to pass the time, but loses interest quickly, and ends up in his contacts -- where Changsun’s name stills sit at the top.

Against his better judgement, he taps on the name. His heart clenches as he rereads the last few messages where he’d arranged to pick up his remaining things from Changsun’s apartment.

That’d been two months ago: just long enough to forget when he’s busy, and just long enough to remember when he has a moment of idleness.

Not wanting to be tempted into messaging him, he tosses his phone aside and rolls out of bed. He can at least make himself useful by taking inventory of what was left in the fridge after the feast he’d made today.

His room is close to the living room, and the glow of the television gives him enough light to find his way there.

Taemin is slumped on the couch, watching some music countdown show with glazed eyes. He barely glances up when Jinki enters, but still mumbles a greeting.

“Hey.”

Jinki raises a hand in greeting. “Hey. What’re you doing up this late?”

Taemin gestures to the television. “Just watching some garbage. Couldn’t sleep again. I took too long of a nap after we got back from the game.”

“That sucks,” Jinki says. He shuffles awkwardly when Taemin says nothing further. “I’m going to take inventory now to make my morning grocery trip a little easier.”

“Smart.”

It’s a clear end to the conversation. But when he moves to leave and breaks eye contact with Taemin, he sees his expression fall from dull to something almost anguished -- and against his better judgement, he stops beside the couch.

“Did you, uh, ever eat anything for dinner? I noticed you weren’t there.”

Taemin shrugs without turning to look at him. “I found something to snack on.”

“Alright, but feel free to let me know if you want me to whip up something for you. I’m sure we still have enough ingredients left for a single serving of something.”

Taemin scoffs. “I’m not going to make you go through the trouble of cooking me a meal this time of night.”

“I’m fine with it,” Jinki says. “C’mon, I’m sure you’re craving something.”

Taemin frowns at the television, guilty, but eventually lifts his head to look at Jinki with a pout.“If it’s not too much trouble...pajeon sounds really good right now.”

“Pajeon coming right up, then,” Jinki says. He begins walking towards the kitchen, and hearing Taemin follow him, speaks over his shoulder. “And don’t feel guilty about this, I could make these in my sleep.”

Taemin’s lips pull into a small smile. “I’d like to see you try that.”

Jinki laugh and opens the fridge to pull out green onions. Taemin takes a seat on the other side of the counter and rests his head in his hands, watching in silence as Jinki’s knife moves up-and-down the cutting board. When he turns, he feels Taemin’s gaze shift to the back of his neck.

“What made you decide to take this job?”

“Um--” Jinki swallows and looks over his shoulder. He can tell Taemin’s curiosity is innocent, but the question still catches him off guard. He pulls out a pan and flicks on the burner before answering. “I wanted a change, I guess.”

“Yeah, I can understand that. Is there a reason you chose LA in particular?”

“Not really -- just heard of the opening through a friend. I’d have been happy to go anywhere outside of Korea.”

Taemin raises an eyebrow. “Bad breakup?”

He grimaces. “...Something like that.”

“Well, it’s her loss. You’re willing to cook on demand and you’re good at it. I can’t imagine why she wouldn’t want to keep a tight hold on that.”

“Thanks.” Jinki grins, but doesn’t correct him on the pronouns. Keeping the team in the dark about his sexuality is likely the only option he has for keeping his employment.

Taemin goes quiet again as he finishes mixing the batter and frying the two pancakes he can get out of the leftover green onions, but the mood is still lighter. The invisible weight that’d kept Taemin’s shoulders slumped seems to be gone, and when he drops the pancake on the cutting board to slice it up for easy eating, his eyes instantly light.

“That smells amazing. How long till I can eat it?”

“Just another minute.” Jinki grabs a plate from the cabinet, then arranges the pieces of pancake neatly besides the small cup of dipping sauce he’d mixed as Taemin frowns.

“You don’t need to do that fancy presentation stuff when it’s just me you’re cooking for.”

“It’s habit. And I only want to serve things that look good.”

“I guess that’s why you’re a professional, then.” Taemin smirks at him, not breaking eye contact until Jinki sets the plate in front of him and he grabs his first piece. His eyes close then, in food-brought bliss, and he bounces in his chair. “Fuck, this is good,” he says, mouth still full. He blinks up at Jinki as he grabs another. “You don’t mind me cursing, do you? I just assume it’s fine, since my teammates do it a lot and I’m around them so much...”

Jinki laughs. “I don’t mind. We’re practically the same age, right?”

“I’d think so. When were you born?”

“Eighty-nine.”

“Oh, four years older than me. I’m ninety-three.” He looks up through his lashes as he dips another piece of pajeon. “Can I call you hyung, then?”

Jinki’s voice hitches at the wide smile Taemin sends him. “Yeah, I’m alright with that.”

Taemin beams and takes another bite. The food disappears quickly, as they talk about random things -- the weather and traffic in LA, the annoyance of jetlag, their struggles with adapting to constant presence of English outside of the team house -- and Taemin sits back with a long sigh after finishing the last piece.

“This really makes me regret missing dinner. I can only imagine how good your barbeque is...”

“You’ll get to have it eventually.”

“Soon, maybe?” Taemin says, hopeful.

“We’ll see. I’ll have to ask the manager if he’s alright with me spending so much on meat again.”

Jinki takes the now-empty plate and gathers the rest of the dirty dishes to bring them to the sink. When he turns on the faucet, Taemin circles around the counter to join him and snatches the pan out of his hand.

“Let me help. It’s only fair, since you did all the cooking.”

As Jinki starts on the cutting board and plate Taemin picks up the second sponge from the rim of the sink to begin washing his stolen pan. Though the kitchen is fairly large, the sink is small. Their elbows bump into each other as they work, making Jinki’s skin prickle. The unexpected proximity is making him notice again that Taemin’s an attractive man.

He clears his throat. “So, what made you decide to do play Overwatch professionally?”

Taemin shrugs. “I’ve just always been good at it. I’ve been pro since I was sixteen, though I played a different game back then.”

“Wow -- I had no idea anyone started that young.”

“A lot of us do. Most of my teammates have been in the sport for years.”

Jinki thinks back to Kibum’s comment earlier that day. “Have you been with them long?”

“Most of the team is new to me, but I’ve been with Kibum and Minho for years. It’s nice, because we know how we all play, so we work together well -- but we can see each other’s weaknesses, too. I think they’re frustrated lately because they know exactly how much I’m lacking compared to my usual standard. It makes the losses harder, knowing I’m responsible for them and everyone knows it.”

“I don’t know much about Overwatch, but it doesn’t seem fair to blame yourself for the loss. It’s a six person game, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.”

“So you’re only responsible for one-sixth of a loss.” Jinki flings soap from his hand to tap his forehead. “Basic math.”

Laughing, Taemin shakes his head. He finishes cleaning his pan and sets it on the dish rack. After wiping his hands dry on his pants, he pats Jinki on the back. “That’s not how it works at all, but thanks.”

“Of course. I’m here for stomach and moral support.”

Taemin walks backwards, an amused smile on his lips as he exits the kitchen. “Get some sleep, hyung. I want to make sure you can get up and make us another big meal.”

“You’ll be getting it no matter what, don’t worry.”

He receives a cheeky two-fingered salute before Taemin disappears up the dark staircase.

When the team wins their first game since Jinki’s arrival, he goes all-out. He texts the manager for permission to splurge once the moment he sees the score -- a tight 3-2 that was a hard-won reverse sweep -- and hurries down to the local grocer to purchase every cut of fresh meat he can think of.

By the team is back home, riding high on their victory, he has the grill started and plates of meat prepared for cooking. The weather outside is pleasant, and the team piles onto the few pieces of patio furniture they have to eat the few side dishes Jinki had already set out as they wait for the meat to cook. Coach Sooman brings out what must be a half-crate of soju bottles, which are quickly opened and poured. The team’s appetite is voracious, forcing him to bounce back between the their table and grill to keep up as they consume everything he cooks the moment he sets it down, but he doesn’t mind.

All of the players are happier than he’s ever seen them. Taemin’s hands move rapidly as he recounts one of his plays to the group, broad smile infectious, and Kibum and Minho join in his story-telling to emphasize how surprised they had been when Taemin won them the fight.

The hours pass quickly until the last of the food disappears and the players begin to filter out one-by-one back to their rooms. The patio and living room are entirely empty by the time he’s done cleaning up, and for once, he falls asleep minutes after collapsing into his bed -- only to be woken quickly after by knocking on the front door.

With a long sigh, he shuffles out of bed and exits his room, squinting down the hall towards the front door of the team house. He expects it to be shut -- more than a few players on the team had locked themselves out of the house after late-night trips -- but the door is open, and Taemin is in front of it, passing money to a man in a blue uniform shirt. Taemin finishes the transaction in hushed tones before taking a box from him, then shuts the door.

When he turns around, he startles, nearly dropping the box in his hands.

Jinki meets him halfway down the hall. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to start startle you.”

“I should be sorry for waking you.” He sighs. “I told them not to knock when I made my order, but I guessed they missed those instructions.”

“It’s fine, really.” Jinki rubs at his eyes, then looks at the box in Taemin’s hands with disbelief. “You ordered pizza? After midnight?”

Taemin pouts. “I had a craving...”

“I still can’t believe you’d cheat on me like this after I made such a good meal.”

Taemin laughs. “If you join in, it’s not cheating, right? I’ll split this with you.”

“My stomach’s going to regret it, but alright.”

Taemin carries the box into the living room, not bothering to pick up plates on the way, and sets it on the small coffee table. Soju bottles from earlier are still scattered across the surface, and Taemin reaches for an unopened one to set in front of Jinki.

“You want to drink? I guess you didn’t get to much earlier, since you were cooking.”

Jinki twists the bottle open, then gestures for Taemin to pick up a glass. “Grab yourself one. I imagine you wouldn’t have offered unless you wanted to drink, too.”

Taemin raises a brow, then hold out an empty glass with both hands. “Caught me.”

After Jinki finishes pouring him a drink, Taemin does the same for him. They both knock back their first glass before opening the box, then pour each other another to have with it. The pizza is greasy, but good -- Jinki eats nearly half, and Taemin finishes off the rest -- and pairs well with the soju they down between each slice.

Taemin’s cheeks gain a drunken flush midway through his third glass. He reaches over Jinki for the remote, placing one hand on his knee for balance, then slumps back into the couch and flips on the television.

“What do you wanna watch?”

Jinki shrugs. “Whatever’s fine. We only really have a few channels to pick from, anyway.”

Taemin bounces between the three Korean channels they get before stopping at a drama. “This is that shitty drama you were watching the other night, right?”

“Yeah?”

“Let’s watch it.”

Jinki side-eyes him. “Why do you want to watch it if it’s bad?”

“To laugh at it, obviously.”

He collapses back onto the couch, bumping into Jinki’s shoulder on the way. The room spins, just enough to make him secure about his decision to stay put, even if he should be going to bed at this hour.

The TV becomes a bleary fixture as they near the end of the bottle. Taemin empties the last of it into Jinki’s cup. The now-empty bottle of soju clinks against the edge of the table as he drunkenly tries to place it back, until Jinki grabs and does it for him.

“Thanks, hyung.” Taemin slumps back against him, with his head on Jinki’s arm, and a hand on his knee, and exhales softly.

Jinki bites his lip, trying to ignore the warmth that buzzes across his skin at each point of contact. Taemin’s palm on him is firm, and absently shifting upwards, but that doesn’t mean anything. There’s no way Taemin would be making a move on him. He’s just drunk.

Taemin sighs and adjusts again, settling further onto him, until his head is resting entirely in Jinki’s lap. Jinki holds his breath. If Taemin stays still, this should be fine, as long as he focuses on the television and keeps his thoughts as far away from Taemin’s lips as he can -- but Taemin doesn’t.

His hand moves higher. His cheek turns, and his weight adjusts, putting a pressure on his groin that makes heat prickle down his body. The sweatpants he wears hide nothing when he throbs.

Taemin stirs, turning to look up at him. “Are you...?”

“Sorry,” he interupts, throat tight. “It’s not on purpose.”

Taemin stares. The light from the television flickers behind him, leaving a shadow of his hand as he reaches up towards the bulge in Jinki’s sweatpants. When the screen glows white for a commercial, Jinki can tell that his cheeks are flushed bright red.

“It’s alright,” Taemin says. “I don’t mind it.”

Jinki says nothing.

“...I’ve kind of wondered what another guy would feel like.”

He looks down, pulse racing. This is a bad idea. A terrible idea, considering his relation with the team is tied to his employment. But his body is already heating, from the liquor and the image of having a hand so close to his dick for the first time in months.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Taemin confirms, voice low. “In my hand, or you know --” He licks his lips and looks away. “Mouth.”

He swallows. Everything Taemin says has an edge of innocence to it -- as if he’s never done this before -- but Jinki can't shake the feeling that his approach was too deliberate for that to be true.

He’s not sure he cares either way.

Slipping a thumb into his waistband, he tugs it down an inch. “If you really want to try, then...that’s alright.”

Taemin nods to him, almost shy, but the hand that moves to him isn’t. He helps Jinki pull down his sweats, and a second later, his mouth is open and pressed to the opening of his boxers. Jinki twitches at the sudden sensation, biting his lip, and clenches the leather of the couch when Taemin begins massaging him to full hardness.

The tease is unbearable. He watches breathlessly as Taemin runs his lips along him, covering every inch of him through the fabric until a wet stain pools from the head of his cock. He keeps his lip pulled between his teeth, trying not to make a sound, but a hiss escapes him when Taemin reaches into the slit of his boxers and pulls him out.

The risk of the situation is obvious -- he’s in the living room of his team’s house, having his dick handled by one of their star players, that may or may not have ever slept with a man in his life -- but he’s too far along to want to stop.

Taemin looks up at him briefly, as if making sure he has Jinki’s attention, then licks quickly across the base of his shaft. When Jinki shivers, he repeats the motion, holding Jinki steady in his palm as he moves up with tongue. The thick taste of precome when he reaches the top makes his eyes scrunch shut, but his mouth continues on, pressing and circling around the head of his cock until Jinki is forced to stifle a moan into the back of his hand.

Taemin’s eyes flutter up to him at the noise. “Does that feel good, hyung? Should I keep going?”

“Please.”

When he places a hand in Taemin’s hair as encouragement, Taemin shudders under his palm and leans forward, lips parted, and slips his mouth over the tip of Jinki’s cock. Without any further teasing, he takes more of it, sliding down easily from the spit he’d left behind.

Jinki gasps - he hadn’t expected so much, so soon - and he barely has time to wonder at how naturally Taemin finds a rhythm with his hand and mouth. Heat rolls under his skin as he tightens a hand in Taemin’s hair, only to release it when that draws out a loud but muffled moan around his cock.

There’s no teeth, and no fumbling. Taemin strokes the half of him he can’t fit in and keeps his lips tight around the rest, moving faster until Jinki is gripping the side of the couch for some semblance of control. The brief glimpses he gets of Taemin’s expression through his bangs is pure concentration, and something about that makes the pleasure already building under his skin quicken its pace.

He grips the couch again. “If you keep going, I’m gonna come.”

The warning doesn’t make Taemin pull off. His tongue flattens out, no longer taking time to lave over his cock when he reaches the head, as his fist tightens and twists to match the faster pace of his mouth.

Jinki holds his breath and covers his mouth, too afraid to make a noise. His cock stiffens as Taemin’s head continues to bob in his lap, and after two more tugs, his eyes squeeze shut as he comes into his mouth.

Taemin pulls away from him once he’s done, sitting up on his elbows and swallowing thickly. He’s panting, cheeks flushed and pupils blown wide when he looks up. His lips are spit-slick and red -- and on impulse, Jinki tugs him upright into a kiss. When their lips meet, Taemin's brows shoot up with surprise, but his confusion vanishes when Jinki cups his cock through his jeans.

“Shit.”

The curse is hissed through his teeth as he pushes into Jinki’s hand. He’s hard, all-too-easy to feel through the denim, and wastes no time in helping Jinki open them when he feels him fumbling at the button.

Jinki uses his other hand to pull him closer, until Taemin is forced to straddle him and he’s sinking back into the corner of the couch. The heat and weight of Taemin over him makes it hard to breathe, but it’s more than worth it. His cock is heavy and warm against his palm when he reaches up to grope him through his boxers, and warmer still when he reaches through the slit to hold him without impediment.

Taemin jolts when Jinki presses their lips together again, hips jerking down, but he doesn’t break away -- he crawls further into Jinki’s lap, deepening the kiss as he moves, until they’re chest-to-chest and he can feel the slick precome from Taemin’s cock begin to bleed through his shirt.

One of Taemin’s hands threads fingers into Jinki’s hair as he keeps the other braced against the couch for balance. The faster Jinki goes, the harder he trembles, until their haphazard kissing turns into nothing more than panting against Jinki’s chin. Jinki runs his free hand down over his back, then up under his shirt, enjoying the familiar smoothness of taught muscle under his palm before shifting his hand to squeeze Taemin’s ass.

Another curse is muffled into his neck. Taemin hardens in his hand when his fingers dig in, body going stiff, and exhales softly. He twitches with each stroke, come spilling from him in short bursts that coats Jinki’s fingers and shirt.

The silence that follows makes Jinki suddenly aware of the television still playing in the background. He wipes his hand on his shirt, and Taemin backs away, breathing still shallow and fast.

Their eyes meet briefly. Taemin’s bangs are stuck to his forehead, damp with sweat from where he’d buried his head in Jinki’s neck. His lips pull in an uncertain smile, though his gaze is pointedly fixed away as he tucks himself back into his underwear.

“Sorry about your shirt.”

“It’s fine.”

When Jinki says nothing more, Taemin moves back, balancing carefully until he’s back on his feet. His eyes flick down quickly when Jinki tugs up his sweats, then up to his face.

“We should probably go to bed, huh? We both drank too much.”

Jinki tries to read Taemin’s expression in the dark, but comes away with no hint at his feelings, other than nervousness -- which he feels plenty of too, now that he’s more sober. He can only hope that Taemin’s skittishness won’t lead to something that would get him fired, kicked out, and subsequently deported.

He holds his shirt as he stands, careful to keep it away from any of the surrounding furniture.

“I guess I’ll see you in the morning?”

“Yeah.” Taemin smiles tightly. “Sure thing.”

#ontae #esports au #the saviors colors are similar to london spitfires for obvs reasons #and god i haven't posted in so long its nerve wracking!!!#i hope y'all enjoy #;o;

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meereschristophers · 6 years

Text

Stuckied in an elevator

“Is this thing stuck?”

“Looks like it.” Bucky seemed more bored than anything.

“Well, I’d like to know for sure and do something about it if we are really stuck here”, was Steve’s reply. Sensible as ever.

“Maybe it’s just a slow elevator. You’ve gotten used to the one in Tony’s tower but some elevators are older than you are!”

Steve looked skeptical and annoyed now. “You’re exaggerating!”, he accused Bucky.

Bucky just shrugged and sighed, then stood up straighter. Finally he said, “I think you’re right, this thing is stuck. There should be a button somewhere…?”

At this point, the light went out. Just like that, no last feeble flicker, no, it just went out very unceremoniously.

Of course they had flashlights, so that wasn’t much of a problem.

Steve found the emergency button first and pressed it. There was a speaker next to it that crackled feebly. No voice came out of it to ask what the emergency was, however. “Hello? Excuse me, I think we are stuck in elevator 4?!” Still no reply. Steve tried several times, then gave up on the speaker. He tried the manual door handle instead. Of course, the door opened only to reveal a solid wall. No door in sight and the space between the elevator and the wall was too narrow to even think of squeezing through.

“We could get out of this easily”, remarked Bucky.

“We’re not in a hurry and these things are expensive. I’d rather not do unnecessary damage. It’s very likely that this is just a temporary power outage and we’ll be out of here in a couple of minutes.”

“More likely hours!”, complained Bucky.

“…or hours”, admitted Steve but he didn’t seem fazed by the prospect.

Bucky put on his darkest, grumpiest face. He knew they’d been in worse situations than waiting in a stuck elevator, but maybe that was the problem. He hated feeling stuck and he hated not having anything to do. His brain was not a safe place to spend too much time in without distraction.

Steve wasn’t worried in the slightest. He didn’t mind waiting, it was peaceful and they really were in no hurry. For a change. He even smiled at the thought that after all the elevator-related adventures he’d had, simply being stuck in one was so refreshingly normal.

“Why do you even care if it’s expensive? Lets just cut a hole in the roof and climb out!”

“It’s not really about the money, Bucky. Look, if we destroy this elevator, even if we’d have no trouble paying for it, it would still take several days at least, probably weeks, until it was repaired. Think of all the people who need it! And just imagine, we cut a hole in it and at that exact moment the light flickers on and we continue our journey! That would be embarrassing. I don’t think power outages last all that long, normally.”

Bucky grumbled. He didn’t like that Steve was so reasonable. What’s the fun in being Captain America if you can’t even smash through an elevator when it’s stuck?

Steve looked at Bucky sideways and chuckled.

“What?!”

“Nothing, it’s just kind of cute how impatient you are! You’d think after being frozen for so long–”

“That’s just it!”, shouted Bucky, turning around and facing Steve, “That is exactly the problem! How can you be so calm! Your plane crashed and you were crushed by tonnes of icy water and frozen for decades and it doesn’t bother you at all? I don’t believe you!”

Steve was taken aback and didn’t know what to say. They just stared at each other for a while, illuminated by their flashlights and closely surrounded by metal walls.

Suddenly, another voice broke the silence, shouting: “Hello! Is there someone in there?”

Bucky turned to face the door, then looked up and answered: “Yes!”

“Sorry about that!”, replied the voice (probably the janitor, Steve and Bucky both guessed), “There is a power outage, nothing to worry about. You are not in any kind of danger. Do not panic! How many are you? Any children, disabled persons or elderly?”

“Just two of us, and we’ll be fine”, shouted Steve back.

“Um, technically I’m disabled”, grumbled Bucky but not loud enough for the presumed janitor to hear.

“The power will probably be back on in an hour or so. If it takes much longer, I’ll call the fire department to get you out. Do not attempt to break out by yourselves! That would be highly dangerous and insurance won’t pay for cases of unintended use.”

Bucky rolled his eyes and balled his fists, but he bit his lip.

“OK”, shouted the janitor, “I’ll have to check on the other elevators.”

But Steve interrupted her: “Do you have a phone number we can call just in case?”

“Well, you can always call 911 if you get reception in there”, the janitor called back, “but I’ll give you my number, too, hang on”

After the janitor had left, Bucky rounded on Steve. “See? They have other elevators! She just said so! It won’t matter if this one is out of order for a couple of days!”

Steve gave him a stern look, but then put his hand on Bucky’s shoulder. “Hey, I know this is stressful for you, but she also said it won’t be long. I think it’s best if we just wait, hm?” He looked at Bucky expectantly, but he just scowled.

“At least you’re not alone this time”, Steve tried to comfort him.

They both sat down on the floor, leaning against the wall. Bucky leaned his head on Steve's shoulder and mumbled “Thanks.”

Steve sighed. “I’m sorry. I should have realized that it’s not just an inconvenience for you, or a matter of being impatient.”

Bucky snorted. “You don’t say!”

Steve wrapped his arm closer around his friend and said: “I think it’s easier for me. You asked how I can be so calm, but it’s not an act, Bucky, in fact I was thinking how normal this whole situation is. Not so long ago a full team of trained professionals tried to arrest me in an elevator – I had to jump from the eighths floor! Compared to that this is a picnic. Literally.”

“Do you have food?”, Bucky asked and seemed genuinely interested in a snack.

“What? That’s not–”, Steve turned his head to look at Bucky, “That’s not what my story was about. I was just saying that this isn’t dangerous or anything, so we should just make the best of it.”

“Exactly! Eating calms me down. Plus it has been a while since breakfast!”

“Uh, if you say so.” Steve rummaged in his backpack for a bit and, sure enough, handed Bucky an energy bar while taking one for himself, too.

Bucky started eating immediately. “It’s good to know that I can always count on you for being well equipped!”

Steve chuckled. “You could have packed snacks yourself, if it’s that important to you!”

“I didn’t know we’d be stuck!”, Bucky defended himself.

After they’d both finished their energy bars, Steve asked: “Feeling better?”

“A bit.” Bucky still didn’t look very happy. But then, he rarely did that anymore at all.

Steve frowned. “C’mere”, he put his arm around Bucky again and pulled him closer. Bucky leaned against him and Steve had the strangest feeling, like an anti-déjà-vu, as though the roles had been reversed. How often had Bucky comforted him after he’d been in a fight with bullies twice his size? After he’d lost his mother? Steve tried not to think about it. He wasn’t that small boy anymore and Bucky wasn’t the carefree youth he’d once been, either.

"It's almost as if our roles were reversed", he said, "You used to be the carefree one! Successful, handsome and popular with the ladies, lads and fairies too! And I was always struggling, and, it seemed, losing. And not only losing fights…" He didn't have to spell it out, they both knew he was thinking about his parents.

"You sure know how to make me feel better!", scoffed Bucky, "But I guess you're right. Now you're the popular and unbeatable hero, who got what he dreamed of! And you're even the good-looking one out of the two of us!"

Steve laughed. "You're still good-looking!"

Bucky grinned, trying to act as though this compliment was ridiculous and didn't cheer him up (even though it did).

After a short pause, Bucky said: "No, but seriously. You got what you always dreamed of: The chance to serve! And not only that, you got so much more than you could have ever hoped for. Me? I got almost the same serum, but it was while I was captured by Nazis and tortured. Then I almost die but no, it gets even worse than that! Being frozen, experimented on, brainwashed, tortured some more, forced to play the obedient, mindless killing machine of my own enemies…" He swallowed and lapsed into silence.

Steve didn't know what to say, so he just hugged him a bit tighter. Then he said quietly: "You're right. What happened to you and to me was almost the opposite. Even when my plane crashed and I was frozen for decades, I went into it with open eyes and willingly. I had choices and I did what was necessary and I would do the same again. Maybe that's why it doesn't haunt me the same way. I mean, I can't say it doesn't bother me at all, but it's manageable."

Bucky sighed and Steve could tell that he had his glummest glowering face on, even though he couldn't see his face clearly as they were sitting closely next to each other and facing the same direction, the same blank metal wall that was only two feet away. Steve now found it easy to understand how this wall would seem much too close, threateningly close, for someone like Bucky.

"Yeah, and don't forget: You also had a thousand fans and supporters the moment you did as much as open your eyes!" Bucky seemed to be bitter, but Steve understood that he wasn't accusing him. He just needed to get all this out of his system.

So Steve followed Bucky's line of thought: "Whereas you were hated, suspected of crimes you didn't commit, hunted, and even frozen again…" Steve swallowed. "You know, I knew all these things, but somehow… somehow I haven't thought of it like this before. It's a wonder you're dealing as well as you are! I mean, I'm proud of you."

Bucky leaned his head against Steve's shoulder. When he spoke again, Steve was surprised to hear that his voice was muffled, as if he'd cried or was about to. "I don't think anyone's ever said that to me, ever, since all these horrible things happened."

They just sat there in silence for what felt like a long while.

Eventually, Steve said: "You're not alone anymore. And I'll make sure you're not alone ever again! And I don't just mean I'll have an energy bar packed just in case, I mean I'll listen. And I really am proud of you."

When the lights suddenly flickered on again and the elevator resumed its journey as though nothing had happened, they both jumped. They'd almost forgotten where they were and why.

When they stepped into the daylight shortly after that, the world seemed somehow changed. Maybe a bit of (literal) darkness and confinement made it easier to appreciate the sun and open space outside? But Steve and Bucky both felt that something else had happened.

Bucky gave him a sideways glance, smiling. "So, what do you think about ice cream? And maybe we could go dancing later?"

author's notes: Yes, he is asking Steve out on a date. Whether it's their first date or they've been together for a while (maybe since before Steve got the serum?) is up for the reader to decide.

Also I hope my reference to "fairies" = (gender-)queer people is accurate enough for the time-period and place - I'm not good at american slang, sorry! It just felt weird making Steve use “nonbinary” when talking to Bucky about old times, but also Steve wouldn’t just leave nb people out so, idk,

#own #finished this thing #sorry for the bad title #stucky #fanfic #meereswriting #i guess its still not good or anything but here it is anyway #steve rogers #bucky barnes #sfw

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wfafa · 3 years

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aggresivelyfriendly · 6 years

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~Meet Me In The Hallway~ Chapter 5-Vacation

Sitting on Tamarama beach, I tried to ignore the goings on and the scene around me. I was really invested in the book I was trying to read. I was really trying to be invested in the blasted book. The month had crept by, and I’d stayed in contact with Harry.

Our constant stream of texting didn’t abate and I was tempted to ask him if he got much else done. Those words never passed my fingertips, because I didn’t want him to stop. He had taken it upon himself to leave me alone for this day with Michael and his mates, which is probably why I was bored. It was definitely why I was pouty. I missed our conversation, this morning had opened with an atrocious knock knock joke. I’d played along because it made him smile and sometimes, he could be funny.

“Knock, Knock.”

“Who’s there?”

“Daisy”

“Daisy who?”

“Daisy me rollin, they hatin.”

I laughed, but I didn’t tell him that. It gave him to much ammunition and my weakness had more to do with him than anything. We had texting continually all morning until I shared our plans for the day.

“Oh, I’m gonna let you have fun with your mates. Leave you alone then.”

“They are really Michael’s mates, H.” I countered, hoping he wouldn’t leave me alone.

“Still, what are you gonna do, text all day instead of enjoy the beach.”

Yes, that is exactly what I wanted to do, but I responded, “I dunno, depends if your jokes get better.”

“My jokes are the best you’ve ever heard, and you are going to admit that when I call you tonight.”

I bit my lip, “Doubtful,” I wrote back.

The problem was, after the moment of realization the first week I was home in Australia, all of our interactions felt laden with a subtext I was uncomfortably aware of. I had no idea if Harry was inhabiting the same grey area as me. I assumed he wasn’t. His calls and texts betrayed no awkwardness, and I was still mostly enjoying them.

I had so far been able to avoid his FaceTime attempts thankfully. My excuses were wide ranging and inventive - I’m out, I have no WiFi and a crap data plan. In a moment of sheer panic, I had even claimed to be in the loo, which led to him letting me go immediately after mentioning the acoustics were wrong for a bathroom. How he knew that, I did not care to know.

As much as my mind conjured his visage now that I was AWARE, I could not face actually seeing him. I was sure that I’d embarrass myself in some way and he would know that I suddenly could not stop thinking about him.

Before I opened my eyes in the morning, a month on, longer than I had occupied his bed, I was still reaching out to find him on the other side of the mattress. I was still staying to my side of the bed. I had a single sized bed too for Christ’s sake, how does one have a side, but I left a Harry-shaped gap in my bed, to echo the negative space in my daily life. And seemingly in my heart. When I was able to pry my eyes open every AM, I wished to see the green of his eyes reflecting mine. I missed his humming. He had a habit, of humming under his breath. The melodies he wove ranged from the song in his head to he one I imagined was on his heart. At first, those evenings when we played video game after video game and I handed him his ass repeatedly, he would hum the songs from the video game and I threatened to bash him upside the head.

I had found that I had taken up the habit as I sat around - reading, pretending I was not writing in my journal, or cooking myself snacks - I hummed. They even seemed to be Harry’s songs, either those that he wrote, the parts that he sung, or the ones he hummed when he was not repeating the irritating tings of Mario kart or Fifa. I also found myself pinching my bottom lip and pushing back my hair.

My life had become a Harry song, or an echo of his melody. I wish it was sweet, but the tune was melancholy and I feared it would remain so.

I even missed the damn smack of his gum.

“What are you doing?” My brother threw himself onto the towel behind me and I yelped as the cool water droplets on his body and hair showered my skin.

“That’s cold!”

“Is it?” He was gleeful and I squeaked when he shook more onto me laughing lungfuls of air onto my face.

“God, you reek of beer! Have you been soused this entire break?” I asked primly.

I was the ‘wet blanket’ the boys were fond of telling me. I think they must have secretly liked it, otherwise I could not imagine they would have dragged me on tour. Someone needed to be the mum.

“I have been reasonably pissed most of the time. This is my last hurrah! I’ll have to stop day-drinking once we get to America! America!! Ahhh!”

His glee was contagious and my condescension evaporated in the face of his joy. “I know you weren’t that excited about going last time, but you must be so excited now! Then Asia after that! You’re gonna see the world!”

I grinned, “You too,” I nudged him with my shoulder and smiled. “How’s it feel to make it big brother?”

“It feels like I need another beer!” He stood and extended his hand to me, carefully avoiding the serious conversation I was initiating. As always, we were playing our roles. He pulled me up, over shooting and I fell into him.

“You’re gonna have one with me.” And it sounded as though I had no choice in the matter.

“I don’t like beer!”

“It is my mission to make sure you like beer by the time we get back to Oz.” He cracked the can and handed it to me, with a crash of his own against it. “Opening for fucking 1D will be a huge let down if you don’t learn to lighten up and drink beer. If we come home from this adventure with you in a corner with a book and a pencil behind your ear, I swear it will all be for nought.”

I took a gingerly sip of my beer, “I like reading. It’s my favorite thing.”

“That’s why I will get you laid! Then that will be your favorite thing.”

“You are entirely too concerned with my sex life.”

“What sex life?” He laughed.

“Listen, I like reading, I like watching, this is the life I want. I’m not missing out on anything, honestly.” I finished my beer and reached for another.

“I know, but I think you’d be a better writer if you actually experienced something instead of just watching all the time.” The shock must have shown on my face because he quickly added, “Sis, of course I know you write.”

He reached forward and plucked the pencil from behind my ear. “You’re not as sneaky as you think.” He slipped the slim cylinder between my fingers. “I think you should live things, so you can write them, instead of writing others people’s stories.”

I shrugged him off. “Is that why you live so large, drink so heavy and fuck so many girls?”

I was surprised by the edge in my voice, I liked being called out even less than I would have guessed.

“I live like this because I can, I drink,” he finished his beer and punctuated himself by crushing his can. “Because it feels good. I fuck the girls because of both, right now I can, and it feels better than beer even. Don’t be pissed off—-

I scoffed.

"Really, I’m not trying to be an asshole. You should loosen up. Fool around. I’d been hoping that’s what you were doing all those nights you snuck out—”

“You mean when you kicked me out.”

“Those too. But you spent this whole break even more tightly wound than before.” He picked up a beer and did the thing, our thing: “I dare you!”

He handed me my third drink with a look of triumph I wanted to pretend was premature. But I knew better. Neither of us could turn down a dare. It was how he broke his leg, and I first got caught sneaking out and later it was how he tried out for the band and how I asked for a gap year. It was our trump card, how we got each other in trouble, but also how was made each other take a step we were fearful of.

“Fine,” I huffed and took the beer. I hadn’t had a third beer since before, it scared me. But, I was among friends and when my protective - in his weird way - big brother wrapped his arm around my shoulder, I felt safe.

“I got your back, promise.” He wrapped his fingers around each other.

I’m sure he intended to have my back. I’m also sure that he was telling the truth when he said that I was not really living my life, but watching everybody else’s.

I felt compelled to tell him the truth. The alcohol in my bloodstream was like truth serum. And my feelings for Harry, the details of our strange friendship, were on the tip of my tongue. The little honest acrobat would have jumped onto the trapeze poised in the air between us had someone not called him away. Close call that one.

The worries my brother had about me were founded because I’d changed in the last couple of years. I had never been a party animal or the biggest drinker, but I’d been social when needed and comfortable around people, even boys I liked. I had changed, given up any semblance of amiability. Maybe it was time to forgive myself one bad decision.

I decided to interact with the people on the beach. I had insisted they were not my friend’s, but Michael’s, but we had all gone to school together. Many of the girls were even in my year. I wouldn’t see them for months now. Some I hadn’t seen for months before this. And I trusted them. I’d known some of them my whole life.

I accepted the beer handed to me and relaxed into my surroundings.

I should have known better. I made it home happily, with a foamy buzz in my head and a smile on my face. I had a moment’s reverie for the feeling of Harry’s plump lips on my cheek and his arms clinched around my neck when he bid me goodbye before his plane to Paris. It felt more than friendly. Did friend’s let their lips linger like that? Did they inhale their hugging partner’s hair so obviously? Did they find quite so many excuses to curl themselves around them? I knew my motivations, I really wanted to know his. My boozy brain wandered down these paths, and my will was weakened, so I allowed it.

I blame it on the alcohol, that’s why I answered that damn FaceTime call.

#Harry Styles #Harry Styles fanfiction #Harry Styles fanfic #Harry Styles imagine #meet me in the hallway #mmith #chapter 5

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