#I am going to throw up they have gotten SO expensive online | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

anthonysstupiddailyblog · 1 year

Text

Anthony’s Stupid Daily Blog (267): Thu 8th Dec 2022

My blog is ten years old today. I have written a blog every single day for ten years. Now for those of you asking how can it have been going for 10 years if this is only the 266th edition: relax your batty as the young people say nowadays and allow me to explain. I first started writing a daily blog on Wordpress on this day in 2012. I continued to upload a blog a day until 2020 when I got sick of constantly uploading it to the internet so for the last year I have have been writing every day just for my own pleasure. However earlier this year I got the urge to start putting this thing back online again and here we are. Holy fucking testicles 10 whole years of writing every single god damn motherfucking day. What a decade. What a challenge. What was the point again? Oh yeah. I discovered the work of comedian Richard Herring just over 10 years ago and he writes a daily blog which has been going for twenty years which some could legitimately argue is a more impressive achievement than mine. Herring says he started his blog to get himself in the right frame of mind to write his stand up and also because there are lots of really interesting little things that happen to us every day that we just forget about because we don’t write them down. Thanks to his blog I now know at least one thing that I did or said or thought about on each day of the last 10 years which to me is really fucking cool. If I hadn’t started this blog then year 23 - 33 for me would be just as big of a blur as 13-23 was. I’m so fucking angry with myself for not starting this blog much much earlier. What I would give to go back to my younger self and tell him to start writing about something that has happened to him at school, at college, at the Glass Centre, at college again. So many memories from those years have been lost forever because I wasn’t pernickety enough to document every aspect of my life and upload it to the internet. What a fool I was / am / always will be. As happy as I am that I have kept up this very disciplined practice I’m also majorly disappointed with myself because this blog was supposed to be so much more. I always saw this blog as a way to push myself to do new and interesting things in order to write about the experiences. Ideally I would still like this blog to one day become that. That’s not to say that there haven’t been some fun adventures along the way. In the ten years since I started this blog I have had five jobs (six if you count the two weeks I did at that pub which I don’t), travelled across America, saw Jim Morrison’s grave, gave up drinking and eating meat, vacationed in New York, been to more concerts and shows than I could possibly name here, become an uncle and a great-uncle, lived through a pandemic, gotten a motorbike and had zero girlfriends. Not a bad ten years at all, and made all the more memorable because I took the time to write about all the experiences after they happened. I’m so overjoyed that I started this brilliantly stupid blog. It really is one of the best decisions I’ve ever made. I hope I never get bored of it.

Leading up to this momentous occasion I have been toying with the idea of doing something bucket list worthy in order to mark the occasion. My dream scenario was to travel to Sarajevo to see the spot where Archduke Ferdinand was assassinated as that’s always been a source of morbid fascination for me. However there are no direct flights there and the indirect flights there plus the accommodation would not be cheap. I just couldn’t justify this expensive anniversary present to myself so I just left it, though I will go there one day. I did treat myself to an anniversary pizza because I’m a fat fuck and checking out last nights Dynamite:

Kicked off with the Dynamite Diamond Battle Royal. The winner will challenge for MJF's Dynamite Diamond Ring. This was kind of an uneventful match until the very end. There was a cool spot where Brian Cage kept throwing Dalton Castle over the top rope but The Boys kept catching him and putting him back on the apron. I also liked Dustin Rhodes with a running destroyer on....uh some cunt, what does it matter who it was? I was saddened to learn that 2023 will be Rhodes' last year in pro wrestling. I hope he does the Ric Flair retirement tour gimmick where he faces a bunch of the newer guys. I also hope that he somehow gets an NWA title win by the end of his run because he deserves it. The matche ended when Rick Starks threw out Ethan Page to win. Then afterwards we got a brilliant showdown between Starks and his opponent for next week MJF. MJF brilliantly gloats about writing William Regal off TV then accuses Starks of ripping off The Rock and calls him "The Pebble" which the fans started chanting. I'm worried about this because these chants could end up turning Starks heel again if they stick along with the comparisons to The Rock. MJF also says "Facts don't care about your feelings" because I guess he figures quoting Ben Shapiro will always get heat. Starks gets his on back on MJF by calling him Maxipad which is a great insult which won't hurt MJF because he's on top of the world right now. Stark then cuts a brilliant promo about the fight he's had to get to the main event. This was Starks' coming out party, he knocked this promo out of the park and got the crowd on his side. Obviously he's not winning the belt but hopefully they'll find a way to make him look strong in defeat and maybe become a Johnny Gargano / Daniel Bryan ultimate under-dog type figure. We then got Darby Allin vs Samoa Joe which was a great short, realistic match where Darby took 90% of the damage. Joe walked away from a Darby dive and Darby splatted into the railing which looked nasty. Joe lifted up the crashmats and got me wondering why the ref doesn't just it back? Finish came when Allin went for a Coffin Drop but got caught in a choke. Joe looked really good here and hopefully this will lead to an actual Darby vs Joe feud somewhere down the line. Afterwards Joe continues assaulting Darby until he's saved by Wardlow so it looks like we're getting a solo rematch which I'm down for. Next it was Wheeler Yuta & Claudio Castagnoli vs Jake Hagar and Daniel Garcia. I'll be honest I skimmed this because I'm sick of these two factions feuding. Move the fuck on please lads. I assume they're going to disband the BCC now that Regal has fucked off. Regal says he left because there is a "maturity issue" in the AEW locker room. AEW responded by saying that there is a maturity issue in Regal's mother's locker room. Hagar gives Claudio the hat and he kicks it into the crowd which was a cool spot. I feel so bad for Claudio because 10 years in WWE did fuck all to help him get better at promos. He's still atrocious. They do promo classes in WWE where they're supposed to helpt the guys get better on the mic but whenever you'd put a mic in Claudio's hand he'd always go to bits. Some of the best dialogue I've ever read is in comic books so I'm thinking there have to be some comic book writers out there who are also into wrestling and they could write good dialogue for guys like Claudio. Man I never thought I would be watching Cesaro vs Jack Swagger in 2022. I got my fill of it in 2014. Hopefully theyll bring in Rob Van Dam to make it a three way feud again. There's a cool spot where Claudio goes for the springboard twisting uppercut but Sammy gets on the apron and stops him. Finish kind of comes out of nowhere as Hagar and Garcia have Claudio and Wheeler in submissions, Claudio rolls through and Hagar's head collides with Garcias and Claudio hits an uppercut for the win. Good match but still kind of sucky build to Final Battle. Afterwards Schiavone shows them an interview he did with Regal where he confesses that he helped MJF so that everyone will be gunning for his belt and he will realize how scary it is to be at the top. This kind of made sense even if it was slapdash but good on Tony Khan for coming up with it.

Before bed I tuned into the final ever Celebrity Juice. Man I am so shocked that this show ended up lasting past one series because by the end of Bo Selecta I got the feeling that Leigh Francis had completely run out of material. However in this show he had other people to contribute and bounce his childish ideas off so I guess that added to the longevity of the show. In the beginning it was mainly young people who watched the show and you can see why because it was mainly sex jokes and puerile humour and it had two gorgeous women in Holly Willoughby and Fearne Cotton in it every week. I can remember the early episodes where they actually did try to make it into a quiz of sorts and it didn’t really work because Leigh Francis / Holly Willoughby and Fearne Cotton aren’t the kind of people who can throw out witty one liners about the weeks news (even if it was gossip magazine-esque celebrity news). This version of the show quickly fizzled out and the panel show format just became a means of Lemon getting his guests to do stupid shit. Celebrity Juice is essentially a kids show that adults have decided to play and make deliberately dirty. This show first started back in the day where I was such a comedy nerd that I would literally just watch anything branded as comedy even if I didn’t like it that much just because I liked to spend my evening watching comedy more than anything else. Although not a fan right off the bat I have to admit I did grow to quite enjoy it partly due to the dynamic and chemistry between Lemon, Holly and Fearne (and Rufus Hound in the early series). It was good for a laugh every now and again. The biggest laugh I ever got from the show was when Lemon told Kelly Brook that if men weren’t obsessed with boobs then she would be working in Dixons. I also liked when Christopher Biggins was a guest on the round where a celebrity sticks their head through a giant magazine. Lemon asked Biggins if he had ever been bent over like that before and Biggins replied “Only when I went on Jim’ll Fix It”. I remember screaming laughing at this and became convinced that Biggins should be made a permanent member of the panel for this one controversial comment. The early version of the show is interesting to look back on in this #MeToo era because this version would not fly today. A lot of the comedy in the early years came from Lemon describing in graphic detail how he would like to have sex with female guests but since #MeToo happened Lemon has not expressed his desire to “Mot Out” any of the guests (don’t ask) or indeed to “smash” any of their “back doors in”. With the eruption of streaming services in the last few years I can’t imagine that a lot of Juice’s core fan base are still around as most episodes of comedy panel shows get uploaded to YouTube immediately afterwards these days and people just seem to have the mentality that they’ll watch them when they become available rather than actually tuning in to watch them live. I think this probably contributed to the cancellation of Celebrity Juice. Personally I used to get told by friends and colleagues about something funny that happened in Celebrity Juice the previous night but I can’t say I’ve heard this in a good while (but then I don’t really watch TV anymore). Whatever you think of Leigh Francis’ brand of humour it’s still impressive that this guy managed to string this show out for 14 years when I personally thought in 2008 that he’d be back doing Bo’ Selecta the next year. RIP Celebrity Juice.

0 notes

chronocidalrage · 1 year

Text

More Dark Shit

Definitely in love with (and terrified of) the dark. Because that’s where all the good and bad things are. Love is in the dark, because you have to go into the unknown to find it. It may be a bright light, but it hides in the dark. That feeling of being both in love with the dark and terrified of it, that dominates my feelings a lot of the time.

I can tell I’m anxious tonight. Things are happening soon and I’m nervous. But I also feel a little bit of something that MIGHT be some form of excitement which makes me even more nervous.

I’m realizing though that I don’t spend my time doing the things I want to do, or the things that make me happy, but the things that I’m comfortable doing. That’s the math equation I’m always doing.

ATOM I think you feel further away when I’m present. When I’m in my current world and I’m the jaded, pessimistic, guarded version of myself that I’ve been for the last 4 years. That version of Alex has been missing Atom for a long time. He never fully had Atom.

But when I feel more like my old self, when I’m weak or open, I feel closer to Atom in a lot of ways.

That said, I guess I can accept that original/real Atom is gone. He’s been gone for a long time. But even recent Atom? Late stage Atom? Him too?! That seems insane and impossible.

RANDOM Some dude on Twitter said “the truth is expensive, the lies are all free” and that’s so perfect.

ALONE When I’m alone I turn into Kevin McCallister, because that was my idea of the benefit of not having a family. You got to do whatever you want. Eat junk food, watch TV. Make bad choices. So as my family fell apart, I sought out this behavior. It’s a consolation.

LIFE Everything overwhelms me. Thinking of everything I may have to be in the morning. I’d rather be eating and watching TV alone because I feel happy and adequate. Good enough for this joy.

I really do assume I’m gonna fuck everything up. I have no faith in myself.

I don’t want a donut, I want a flat stomach. Think of how nice that would be, how much more comfortable I’d be. Wild.

You don’t want to watch movies as much as you wanna make them.

You don’t want to read comics as much as you want to make them.

You just focus on surrogates for the things you really want. The things that you don’t think you’re capable of.

The difference between me dreading something and me being fine with it is belief. I don’t believe I can handle things.

SELF I think I see my likable side as an act, a façade. So I’m always exhausted from pretending to be that person. When I’m working and I get interrupted, I’m thinking “I’m already pushing myself beyond my limits to do whatever it is I’m currently doing, you want me to potentially mess that up AND you want me to also listen and talk and be sociable?”

And when I’m alone I see that as a chance to take my mask off. To be my true self. To be the fat, movie and food-obsessed loser I really am.

The only person I ever truly believed saw the real me and loved me anyway was Atom. Interesting.

The difference between how I live my life and how I WANT to live my life is confidence. Believing in myself.

HALLOWEEN NIGHT I want so much but I have no faith in my ability to attain it. I’m not embarrassed that I haven’t gotten around to the stuff I want, I’m embarrassed that I haven’t been worthy/capable yet.

The times in my life when I feel the magic is when I’m doing what I want to do.

I think I want a “movie mentor” and I haven’t found one that’s able or worthy and that annoys me. But I suppose I can just find my way?

FEELINGS AND SHIT I shouldn’t be ashamed of wanting to talk about feelings and feel shit. We should WANT to feel shit. Why else are we here?

When people interact with me online I think they’re just being nice. Throwing me a bone.

That feeling that I feel all the time is longing. Wanting something but feeling unable to have it. And that’s so upsetting that it makes me not want to think about what I want, but how can I not think of what I want? That’s that confusing, dark and "candle-lit" feeling you have all the time. The feeling of yellow bulb lights hanging from pillars and rafters. Wanting to be part of the light but you can’t. Do we all just want to be part of the light of the universe and for humans the light is love? And that’s what we aim for?

0 notes

thran-duils · 3 years

Text

Am I On the Screen? (P.1)

Title: Am I On the Screen? (Part One) Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Fem!Reader Summary: Hugh is a prick and the reader gets herself into trouble with him with her attitude. Hugh has the perfect plan to keep her in line though. Words: 2,116 Warnings: S M U T, language, dub-con, blackmail, masturbation, online sex Author’s Notes: If something like this has been done already, welp, I suck.

Part Two || Masterpost (mobile) || Fanfic masterpost

Are you, are you filming me? Am I, am I on the screen? 'Cause it feels like your watching me 'Cause it feels like they’re watching me Am I on the screen?

-- Are You Filming Me? // twst

Marta’s laugh faltered and she cleared her throat, her eyes averting from the doorway quickly. You turned your head to look over your shoulder and saw what had made her stop laughing. Hugh. He sure had a way of sucking the air out of a room, especially with that glower he was pointing in the two of your direction.

“Hugh,” you greeted him civilly, turning the shrimp over in the pan. “Are you hungry?”

“Not for anything that you are making,” Hugh responded rudely, walking past you towards the fridge.

You shot Marta a vexed look and she rose her eyebrows, shaking her head slightly.

“Well, there’s some take out on the second shelf in the fridge that I can assure you I had nothing to do with. I just picked it up for my lunch. If you want, I’ll trade you that for a plate of what I’m making,” you said, unable to help yourself.

Hugh stopped, his hand on the handle of the fridge. Unamused, he stared at you for a few moments before saying, “You should watch your mouth, Y/N.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you quipped, turning the stove off, and moving to arrange Harlan’s plate.

You could feel Hugh’s glare burning into your back and you smirked to yourself at having gotten under his skin even just a little bit. The prick deserved to be knocked down a couple pegs.

<><><>

Gym bag slung over your shoulder, you slammed your car door closed and locked it. On the way up to your townhouse door, you unlocked your mailbox and grabbed the papers inside. You were looking forward to your shower, thinking of the sweet relief you would get from the hot water.

Upon opening your front door, you almost stepped onto an envelope that had been slid underneath the door. You closed the door and turned around, placing your bag down along with the other mail on the entrance table. You swooped down and picked up the unmarked envelope, confused why it had not just been slipped into your mailbox.

“What…” you muttered, staring down at the photos.

Bile rose in your throat realizing what it was. They were screenshots of you from your OnlyFans account during one of your live events. And you quickly noticed it was not from just one; there were a handful of them, you in different lingerie, different toys. A note was with the pictures.

I want you to say my name when you’re riding that large, pretty, purple dildo tonight.

Who sent you this and why? There was no name attached to it. And how the hell did they know where you lived? A chill crept down your spine, thinking of all the true crime documentaries that you had binged and all the women who were kidnapped and murdered, their bodies never found.

Unnerved, you tore the photos and the note up, rushing towards the kitchen. You shoved the ruined remains in the trash, shoving them as far down as you could. Stepping back, your eyes were glued to the trashcan, anxiety creeping. What if you had a stalker?

You bit your lip, trying to think of all the ways you could protect yourself if you were approached on the street or god forbid, someone broke into your home.

The clock caught your attention, and you swore, realizing you had been standing there for fifteen minutes worrying and had cut into your shower time. You still needed to get to work. Trying to ignore the nagging anxiety, you rushed to get ready.

<><><>

Throughout the day, your mind had continuously returned to the note and the pictures. You could not go to the police to file a report or anything, they would think you were being over dramatic. Plus, you were not keen on sharing your account and really, no one had done anything illegal. Still, you were frightened.

At the end of the day when dinner was finished and you had breakfast set up for the morning for Marta to get ready for Harlan when she got there in the morning, you stopped at the bathroom on the way out the door to relieve yourself before the drive home. When you opened the door, you jumped seeing Hugh standing there, just waiting, looking very much a predator.

Hugh rested his hand on the doorframe, leaning in and effectively blocking your way out of the bathroom.

“Do you need something?” you asked, your tone short. On top of the anxiety you already had, you did not want to deal with this dickhead. When had he shown up anyway?

His smile did not reach his eyes as his eyes wandered down, unabashedly soaking you in. Your mouth set into a thin line. If he was trying to unnerve you by being a pompous ass, he was going to have to try harder than throwing you a lewd look.

“Did you get my gift?” Hugh asked nonchalantly. Your brow stitched, confused. He leaned in closer, a malicious glint in his eyes. “I’d prefer it if you reverse cowgirl’d it while you’re saying my name.”

Your breath froze in your chest and he knew the moment that it clicked for you, an arrogant smile painted on his lips.

“You… bastard,” you got out, before trying to move past him.

He blocked your way again and you clenched your jaw, fury thrumming underneath your skin at the smug look on his face.

“Does my grandfather not pay you enough? I would imagine he does but maybe you’ve got more expensive tastes than you give off,” Hugh ridiculed you. He rose his brows and whispered, “Or maybe you just like knowing there are people getting off to that perfectly round ass.” You tried to get around him again and he chuckled, blocking your way once more. “Did I hit a nerve, babydoll?”

He gripped your jaw and you tried to jerk away but he clamped down harder, stopping you from doing so. “I’ve been watching you for a while. You put on quite the show. I just can’t seem to bring myself to actually bury myself inside you though. I’ve certainly thought about it… showing up at your place and making you wrap those beautiful lips around my cock. But I beat off to whores, not fuck them. Keeps me clean.”

You slapped his hand away, angry tears stinging at your eyes. “Get. Out. Of. My. Way.”

“Not until you tell me you’re gonna do like I asked.”

Scoffing, you told him as calmly as you could, “I don’t do it for free.”

“Oh, you aren’t,” Hugh assured you. “I already pay to subscribe, remember? But trust me, your job is on the line. What if I showed my grandfather what his cook is doing afterhours? Do you think he would want to keep a slut employed and tied to his name? That is a lot of money on the table and so you aren’t doing it for free. And don’t even think about quitting because I’ll find out where you work. And I have no problem sending the photos there too. So… you’re kind of stuck with me, pumpkin.”

He gripped your chin with his thumb and forefinger, forcing you to nod as he mimicked a higher pitched voice, “’Yes, Hugh, I’ll beg for you’.” In his regular voice, he practically purred, “C’mon, Y/N. Say it nice and clear for daddy.”

You had no choice. You knew he would make good on his threats; he was not one to mess around about people not following his orders.

Strained, you told him, “Yes, I’ll do it.”

He cupped his hand to his ear, “’I’ll do it…’”

You grated, “Daddy.”

“Perfect. You’re a peach,” Hugh told you grinning. He leaned back, dropping his arm. As soon as you saw the exit, you made to rush past him. At the last second, he reached out, grasping your arm and stopping your momentum. “Oh, and by the way… that purple heart plug too. Just to match.”

He gave you one last self-satisfied smirk before letting go of you and you took off, feeling his eyes burn into the back of your head.

<><><>

Legs spread in front of the camera, you tweaked your nipple through your black lace bra. You had put your garter and thigh highs on to match but were panty less. You had already stripped and done some oral play, something the commenters could not seem to ever get enough of.

You uttered his name for the first time, “I want Hugh.”

Your finger running tantalizingly slow down your slit, staring into the camera. You hated how much it sounded like ‘you’, meaning anyone could be hearing it thinking nothing of it. But you knew Hugh was getting off on knowing you were saying his name.

Pressing your fingers in, you spread your lips, showing yourself off to the camera. A new slew of messages popped up, encouraging you to play with your clit.

“I’m sure you wish it was you,” you breathed, well versed on dirty talk during your live feeds. “I’m sure your fingers would be so much better…” You slipped a finger in. “Your fingers instead filling me up. Getting me ready for that big cock of yours.”

You were good and wet now, comments coming in lusting after the glisten on your lips. Remembering what he asked, your fingers left your sex and you got up, moving the camera to the ground and angled upwards. Grabbing the dildo, you wet the bottom of it, suctioning it to the hardwood floor. For good measure, you added a healthy amount of lube to the dildo, making sure the camera could see your hand massaging it, a sly smirk on your face.

None of this would be out of the ordinary if it was not for the fact you knew Hugh was watching. You could not get the image of him sitting behind his screen, his hand stroking himself watching you abide to his whims.

Spreading your cheeks, you showed off the plug and heard the chime of new messages being sent. You could not help but smile, knowing that was a treat for the viewers. The head of the dildo entered you and you moaned softly. You started slow, adjusting to the girth, moving inch by inch down the length. Gradually, you increased the depth and speed, encouraging whoever was watching to think about their own dicks fucking you like this.

“I want Hugh to fuck me,” you gasped, riding the dildo quickly, your fingers stroking your clit. You were getting close and you leaned completely into it, your mind a haze. “I want Hugh to fuck me so bad. Hugh can cum inside me, fill me up. I’ll take every inch, daddy. Please fuck me. I’m your dirty girl.” Your hand was moving erratically and a few more strokes sent you tumbling over the edge. You gasped, seeing stars, clenching around the dildo.

You sat there for a couple moments, relishing in your high.

As your mind cleared, your cheeks burned thinking about all the things you had said lost to your passion. The thought of Hugh’s hand covered in his cum, head thrown back at your complete submission to his request flashed through your mind. Thankfully, your face was away from the camera and you swallowed, trying to calm yourself down. And also thankfully, your red face could be attributed to that mind blowing orgasm you just gave yourself.

The dildo was wet when you came up off of it and you picked up the camera, taking it with you to sit it back down in front of your station.

Your eyes met the camera again and you gave it a sensual smile, your eyes flicking to all the new comments, positive encouragement ringing throughout them. Your hand slipped down to your cunt and you brought your fingers up to your lips, sucking on them gently.

“I think I’m gonna take a shower. I’ll think about your hands washing me down,” you told the camera before blowing it a kiss. “Good night.”

As soon as the camera was off, your hands shook as you brought them back to your lap.

That had been a great orgasm. And you hated it.

Your phone buzzed and you whipped your head around to look at it over on your bed. Standing up, you picked it up, staring down at the text. You did not have the number saved but you knew damn well who it was and how he had gotten it in the first place.

I’m gonna break my rule. Don’t shower. Keep that pussy glistening for me.

~~~

Tags: @coconutqueen21

#ransom drysdale x reader #hugh drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale fic #my shit

138 notes · View notes

readyplayerhobi · 4 years

Text

Flower | 29

; Hoseok x Reader

;Genre: Fluff, slight angst

; Warnings: Discussions of periods and contraception

; Word Count: 4.6k

; Synopsis: You finally decide to take a dip into the world of online dating and find the Flower dating app. One of the top matches for you proves to be a guy who looks to be your complete opposite; tattooed, pierced, a metalhead and oh…incredibly handsome. What happens when you throw caution to the wind and reach out to him?

; A/N: I know it’s taking a long time for me to update this but I hope you enjoy it :D Please reblog if you do and let me know what you think my commenting on this or sending me an ask!

; Flower Masterpost

“Hey, meeps,” You hear Hoseok’s voice calling to you from the end of the aisle, his new nickname for you now gaining its own nickname as well. “If sunflower oil is made from sunflowers, and coconut oil is made from coconuts...then baby oil…”

He trails off, raising his eyebrows and giving you a scandalous look as he holds up a bottle of baby oil. For a moment, you just stare at him blankly before sighing and rolling your eyes in amusement. Taking the bottle from him, you place it back down onto the shelf before linking your arm through his.

Thankfully, he lets you direct him back to the little section they have in this makeup and skincare store that’s fully dedicated to Korean beauty. This is one of those strange stores where they have tons of products that are basically on sale yet also have branded stuff alongside it. Not that you cared though; it had the Korean brands you swore by for your skin and you were more than tempted to try out the Japanese beauty stand next to it.

For someone who isn’t particularly bothered about the whole concept of skincare, though you had managed to convince him to at least improve his routine, Hoseok was being a pretty good boyfriend right now. He hadn’t complained about the half an hour you’d spent perusing the makeup to find new stuff to put into your collection and he still wasn’t complaining as you filled your basket with face masks.

If anything, he’d managed to entertain himself quite well.

But you think he was being good purely because you’d gone with him to a concert last night. It had been for one of his favourite bands, Metallica, and he’d ended up with a spare ticket as Jungkook had ended up ill with food poisoning. He had been about to go on his own, but you hadn’t liked the thought of him being lonely so you’d gone with him.

You’d recognised some of the songs they’d played from whenever Hoseok played them in the car or the house but it hadn’t been your scene. Still, it had been fun enough and you’d more than enjoyed seeing Hoseok happy as he’d rocked out to his beloved band.

It did mean that you were exceptionally tired today though as the two of you hadn’t gotten home from the stadium they’d performed in until after 2 am. That had been the closest performance apparently and you’d been shattered, sleeping until well after 11 am. Hoseok had promised you a day of relaxation, which you’d jumped on by asking him to do a full Korean skincare routine with you tonight.

He’d agreed, and you’d eagerly dragged him out to this store to replenish your supplies. The makeup was just because it was there and you couldn’t resist it. Already you were coming up with ideas for looks in your head that you could create and then put onto your Instagram. Moving places had meant that you hadn’t done many looks lately and you were eager to change that.

Especially now that you had a yard to take nice photos in. Hoseok and you had both been working hard on the weekends and evenings to transform the yard from the overgrown mess it had been into something nice. Nothing too amazing or expensive as it wasn’t your own house but nice enough that it made from some pretty aesthetic photos.

Placing a final bottle of moisturiser in your basket, you smile at Hoseok and hold it up proudly. He just looks at you in amusement for a second before smiling back.

“All done! We can go to pay now.” While you pay for all your new stuff, he goes and waits outside for you. Which you discover means he intently window shops at the video game store, getting that look on his face when he wants to do something.

Feeling that your bladder is a little too full right now, you glance over to where the public restrooms are and move over to Hoseok. “You can go in if you want, I’m going to the restroom so I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

He takes your bag for you like the gentleman he is before disappearing inside, immediately making a beeline for the Playstation 4 section. You have a feeling he might be about to drop some money given how interested he’d been in some of the new games that have been released in the last few months.

Any thoughts of games are wiped from your mind very quickly though when you’re on the toilet. The sight of red staining your underwear has your eyes widening in horror as you realise that your period has decided to make an early appearance. For a moment you simply stare, brow creasing before you reach for your bag and grab your phone.

The period app you use says that you shouldn’t have started for another four days and you curse your body for doing whatever it likes. Scowling at the stain, you attempt to clean it before sighing in defeat, acknowledging that at least you were wearing black jeans today.

Another rummage in your bag causes you to find another problem, this one sending ice water running through your veins. Grabbing it and placing it onto your knees, you visually scan through every space and almost pull out the entire contents before letting out a small sound of despair.

You had no tampons.

Cursing to yourself quietly, you finish up and make do with an almost ridiculously large amount of toilet paper. Rushing out, you wash your hands before moving over to the machine that always had condoms, sanitary pads and tampons.

Only to see the ‘sold out’ sign on both the buttons you need. Groaning quietly, you do a little dance of frustration as you realise there are not even any other women in the restroom for you to ask. Not that you would. As if your social anxiety would allow for that!

So instead you have to slink outside and into the game shop, lip jutting out in a slight pout as you become hyper-aware of yourself. Can other people smell the blood? What if you leak through all the toilet paper and it does somehow show through your jeans?! What if you leak through onto a chair!

Hoseok wanted to get something to eat after this and you were dreading having to sit there for ages. Playing with your fingers nervously, you move over to where he’s crouched in front of the PS4 stand. He already has two game cases in his hand and is reading the back of another one, your bag of goodies on the floor between his feet.

Glancing up at you, he grins brightly before showing the cover of one of the cases he’s got.

“Look! The Spider-Man game is on sale! You want to play this, right?” Absentmindedly, you nod. The back of your mind takes in the fact that he’s also got Divinity: Original Sin 2 in his ‘buy’ hand and the other case he’s considering is the Doom remake. You wish that you could let him browse more but the drug store wasn’t close by and you didn’t want to just abandon him suddenly.

Still, the thought of what was going on down below was overwhelming and you found yourself shaking his shoulder slightly.

“Hey, are you done? Can we go?” Reaching down, you take your bag back and stand back as he rises, the crease between his brows letting you know he’s a little confused as to why you’re suddenly rushing him. He knows full well that there’s nothing important you need to do.

Still, though, he doesn’t question it and instead nods slowly. While he goes and pays for the games he’s buying, you go to wait by the entrance. Wrapping your arms around your waist, you realise that the low ache in your back that you’d had for a day or so was one of those early symptoms you got of your period.

Only you hadn’t thought anything about it. Not when you’d spent a few hours last night stood up. You’d just thought it was because you’d done a lot of work in the yard combined with the concert. Apparently not.

You’re pretty much already walking in the direction of the drug store by the time Hoseok comes out, causing him to have to jog to catch up with you. All you can think about is whether or not walking faster or slower would make things worse.

“Woah, hey, where are we going?” Hoseok asks, matching his speed to yours. You’re just thankful that there are not too many people out shopping today because it would only increase your stress levels if there was a big queue that you had to wait in or something.

“Just, to this store.” Admittedly, you’re not being very open and honest right now. But you’re embarrassed. Hoseok is fully aware of your periods and that they’re very much a thing that happens. They’d become a little more irregular recently as you’d had a copper IUD put in around a month before moving in with him.

Nothing drastic or anything, but then again they were also sometimes longer and a little heavier than you were used to when you were on the pill. It wasn’t exactly something you enjoyed talking about with anyone though; Soyeon and Chungha were pretty open about this kind of stuff but you had always mostly stayed quiet whenever they talked about it.

Which was silly. They were women who fully understood what you were going through and Hoseok understood that it was a monthly event. So it wasn’t like he’d be shocked to find out or anything. If anything, you’d probably done a bit of a bad job in explaining some things to him as you’d always got too shy whenever he’d asked things.

That was bad, you were well aware. But you’d only really got comfortable talking about sexual things with him. You knew that there were guys who thought it was gross that women bled for a week or so. Hoseok had never made those kinds of comments, but still. You were a work in progress.

“We’ve already been in here, why are you dragging me like Jason Voorhees is running after us with a knife?” He whines when you enter the store. You’re not surprised he’s confused because he’s right, you had come in here earlier and picked up what you needed. Still, though, he follows close by.

“I thought we didn’t need anything else.” Comes from him next, his lip pouting and you get the sense that he wanted to spend more time in the game store. A rush of guilt and shame washes over you, causing you to grip his hand even tighter as you shuffle awkwardly in place for a moment.

Finally in the store though, you realise just how silly you’re being with him. It’s not like he’s going to get outraged or upset. And you’re sure he’d have been much more willing to come along if he hadn’t been dragged along half the street with no idea what was happening.

Leaning into him, you cough slightly before swallowing as you feel yourself go hot with anxiety.

“My period started.” You whisper, keeping the words quiet enough so that he can hear them without having anyone else overhear. Though the rational part of your mind knew that you shouldn’t give a flying fuck what anyone else thought. It was a natural, bodily function and all that.

Your mind has never quite done things rationally though.

Hoseok has heard you though, you can tell by the way his head tilts to the side ever so slightly. But his expression is blank for a moment before his brow creases in obvious confusion, lips pursing as he contemplates what you’ve just told him.

“Okay...so why are we here?” Annnnd there it is. That famed male obliviousness to female problems. You couldn’t get annoyed at him though, not when he was good with you on everything else. He was cute.

“It’s early? And I have nothing to use. So I need to buy some.” His face changes immediately when he understands finally, mouth curving into an ‘o’ shape as he lets out a noise of recognition. It then contorts into worry for you, his eyes glancing down to your crotch area with wide eyes.

“Wait, so that means you’re...just…” He creates a rushing gesture with his hands, imitating a waterfall as he makes a ‘whoosh’ noise with his mouth. It’s a little too loud for your liking and you hiss at him, poking at his stomach before quickly pulling him over to the menstrual health aisle.

“I’ve used some toilet paper but it probably won’t last. It’s come on pretty hard and fast today. Please don’t laugh.” You beg him and his face sobers immediately, eyes darting over your own as he takes in your distressed appearance. Licking at his lips, he inhales deeply before nodding.

“Okay, you use tampons, right? So like...which ones? You never keep the box.” Automatically he starts to look over all the boxes of tampons; staring at the brands, types and absorption levels like he’s reading signs in Mandarin or something. It makes you want to laugh, despite the situation.

You appreciate his eagerness to help though, even when he points at random boxes with absolutely zero knowledge of what it was.

“What’s the difference in the brands? Is there a difference? Or is it like...when you buy those store brand biscuits and realise they taste the same as the branded biscuits only to find out that they’re made in the same factory and just relabelled?” That makes you snort with amusement, particularly as he’s now holding up a box of Tampax and a store brand to try and see the difference.

He’s not finished yet though, and even though you still feel the urgency to just grab some and run, you can’t help but let him entertain you. Because that’s what he’s doing. You’re not oblivious, you’ve realised over time that if you’re feeling anxious or uncomfortable or shy, Hoseok will often use humour to distract you away from your negativity.

It’s nice, which is why you let him carry on for a minute or so more.

“What are the drops for? And what’s the difference between regular and super? I mean, I think you’re pretty super but is this like...super big or something? Wait, is this plastic?! How does it absorb blood if it’s plastic?” Rolling your eyes at him, you bite your lip to stop the laughter that wants to escape before reaching past him to grab the box you usually buy.

Lifting it, you decide for a quick crash course in tampons. As your boyfriend, you never know when you might need him to run out to the store for some and the last thing you need is him bringing the entirely wrong type back.

“I use Tampax, purely cos it’s just the brand I’ve always used and I’m familiar with it. Super and regular are like the absorption so you’d use a super for the first few days when a period is heaviest. Hence why I’m getting these. The drops are the absorption rating too basically and it’s not plastic, that’s just the applicator that makes it easier to insert.” You say it all pretty quickly, but quietly enough that only he hears.

Not that there’s any need, the store is loud enough that your conversation can’t be overheard and on top of that, there’s no one in this aisle anyway. But Hoseok nods thoughtfully, scanning the front of the box carefully.

“When we get home, I think I need a crash course in periods because I’m feeling pretty useless and dumb right now.” Laughing, you lean up to kiss his cheek quickly before heading in the direction of the cashiers.

“We can do that for you. It’s better to be educated after all. This is where I find out that you have this bizarre knowledge that is unbelievably wrong and I cringe.” Hoseok doesn’t answer back to that, causing you to look back and chuckle at his meek shrug and wince.

“What can I say? I’ve never had a girlfriend long enough to learn and education in high school was terrible. I’m not even gonna try to defend myself.” Humming lightly, you grin at him as you pay before heading out of the store. Looking in the direction of the toilets, you twist your lips as you consider your options.

“You want to eat at that place, right?” You ask, nodding your head towards the Japanese place that was down the opposite end of the street. Hoseok looks that way and nods, confirming his desire to you. Already you can feel your stomach rumble as you imagine the delicious food.

“Okay, we’ll just go there and I’ll go straight to the restroom in there. Come on.” Reaching you, you take his hand and smile up at him, your walk not so hurried now compared to before. Not that you aren’t completely aware of the fact that you’re free bleeding from your vagina right now, but walking faster might just aggravate it more.

You had what you needed, so now you could relax a little more.

“Why are there so many steps in this? Don’t you get bored?” Hoseok mumbles, his words a little slurred due to the fact you’re rubbing serum into his cheeks. He’s already been here for ages in the bathroom as you’d used a cleanser to clean his face before exfoliating and then using toner on some cotton pads.

You could tell that he was amused by the whole situation, even though he’d seen you do this many times before. But it was different experiencing it for himself you supposed. Still, he looked so adorable and you cooed to him, squishing his cheeks even more in amusement.

“No. It’s relaxing. You’re supposed to relax.” That makes him scowl, the expression not nearly as intense as he was going for given you’ve got his lips in the cutest pout. Still, you’re finished with that part so you let him go, laughing as he runs his fingers over his skin.

“I’m not relaxed. More...manhandled.” Scoffing, you roll your eyes as you get to work rubbing the serum you need into your skin, focusing on your eyes. The dark circles beneath them were far too...well dark for your liking.

“Okay, how’s your skin lately? Dry? Oily?” Frowning at you, he twists his lips as he considers your question. He’s been taking better care of his skin than he had been before dating you, but you knew that he still didn’t care that much. Surprisingly though, he has an answer for you.

“Dry?” Nodding to yourself, you reach through your box of face masks and pull out a moisturising one. Handing it over to him, you take your own and rip it open, pulling out the mask and carefully putting it on. Hoseok watches you intently before opening up his mask, his face immediately twisting into a cringe.

“Ewwww, oh my god. Why is it so slimy?!” He whines, holding it over the sink like it’s some monster that might kill him. With the mask on your face, you can’t laugh properly like you want to.

“Stop being a baby and put it on.” With a little more whining, he does so, lining it up and putting it onto his face. What follows is then complaints that it’s also cold and feels weird, causing you to roll your eyes at him once more as you help to smooth out any creases in it.

“Right, we’ve got to keep this on for twenty minutes so let’s go watch some Netflix,” Looking over him, you take in how he still manages to look handsome even with a white sheet mask on. “It’s not fair that you always look so good. Honestly.”

Hoseok just shrugs before licking his lips, his reaction immediate as he registers the foul taste. “Oh fuck me, what the fuck. This tastes fucking vile!”

“...you’re not meant to eat it, babe, they don’t make it for the taste.” He washes his hands in the sink to get rid of the remaining residue before following you out to the couch in the living room, Netflix still paused on the large television screen. Kasumi is curled up on her cat tree, fluffy body small as she sleeps quietly.

For around ten minutes, neither of you speak as you continue to watch Warrior Nun. It’s surprisingly got both your attention hooked, so you’re a little surprised when Hoseok suddenly speaks up and distracts you.

“Hey...I know this is a weird time to talk about this but after your whole period thing today it reminded me. So, I’ve been thinking lately. You definitely don’t want kids...right?” He looks at you and you get the impression he would raise his brow if he could. When you nod in response, he blows out a breath slowly.

“Okay...how would you feel if I said I wanted to get a vasectomy? I mean, I know you’ve said you don’t want kids but there’s always a chance that you might and a vasectomy is pretty final. Despite what people say.” Now it’s your for your expression to be mostly hidden by your face mask, your eyes widening until your eyelashes are uncomfortably touching the edges of the holes.

“You want that? I thought guys normally got all weirded out at that prospect. And I don’t want kids, ever. Full stop. Are you sure?” Of all the things you were going to be discussing tonight, you did not expect it to be this. It’s almost amusing that Hoseok has decided right now is the time for something so serious, when you both look so silly.

“I do. I just...I don’t want to risk a pregnancy and I know you’re scared of that too. Also, it’d put less stress on you, I know most birth control is usually aimed at women except for condoms and it’s a lot easier for me to get a vasectomy than for you to get anything done.” That makes you snort in acknowledgement, shifting on the couch until you pull your leg up and wrap your arms around it.

“Yeah, because god forbid a woman not want to fulfil her natural duty and pop out a kid, right?”

“I’ve been looking into it, I’m pretty sure I could get one. If not, I’ll just talk the doctor’s ear off until they let me. Because it’s gonna happen. It’s way easier and less stressful than anything you have to do.” His dual concern for not wanting to cause an accidental pregnancy that neither of you wanted along with not wanting the burden to fall too heavily on you warms you, causing you to reach out and grasp his hand tightly as you squeeze at it.

“Is it easy? Or quick?”

“Apparently. Some guys say it doesn’t hurt at all, others said it hurts. But...I’m pretty sure I want it. I just wanted to check with you that you’d be okay with the idea too. As I said, it’s final.” Hoseok smiles at you as best he can, causing you to shuffle a little closer to him. You’d like to rest your head against his shoulder but you’d just get it covered in face mask gunk.

“I mean, it’s your body. It doesn’t have anything to do with me.” Pointing this out to him, you look up and tilt your head, your statement almost a question.

It makes him sigh and focus on your hands, shifting them until he could interlink his fingers with your own. You let him do so, figuring he should probably be taking the lead in this conversation. It is about him after all.

“We’re in a relationship. A serious relationship and this decision would affect both of us. It’s cutting off the chance for biological kids, despite people saying you might be able to reverse it. I feel you should have a say too.” Nodding slowly, you hum lightly as you consider his words carefully.

“Well, if you want it then I’ll support you completely. I never want children so you don’t have to worry about that. It’s your decision, but I just want to make sure you think it over properly and do research, okay? Don’t go rushing into it.” That makes him snort in amusement.

“Meeps, if there’s one thing you should know by now; it’s that men do not take decisions regarding their dick and balls lightly. You can be damn sure I’m going to be 100% in my decision if I’m going to let someone come near my balls with a scalpel or somet.” The way he says this is so matter of fact that you can’t help but laugh, the sound not as big or bright as you’d like it to be given you still had your mask on.

“Man, I can’t believe I’m talking about someone knifing my balls while I’m sitting here looking like a dollar store Michael Myers.” Hoseok points at himself, his bemusement clearly obvious despite his poor Halloween costume and you giggle softly.

Reaching out, you run your fingers through his hair that’s currently being held back by a bandana and smile at him softly. “Come on, let’s go get these off and start looking human again.”

Hoseok follows you immediately, already peeling the face mask off and making casual comments about how the mask isn’t as slimy as it had once been. You take off your own and drop it into the small bin in the bathroom, making sure that he does the same.

“Okay, rub it in and pat it dry. Make sure you get the excess to go on your throat and stuff, it’s good for your skin there too.” Hoseok looks in the mirror, his face shining obscenely from the residue leftover and grimaces.

“Ew, this feels...gross,” One hand presses to his skin, rubbing it in and cringing. “Is this what it feels like when I cum on your face?”

The comment is so random that you pause for a moment, all thoughts disappearing as you comprehend what he’s just said. A glance at him makes you realise he’s being completely serious, his expression focused on rubbing his face as you’d told him. It’s moments like this that make you love him even more, the blasé comments he makes that are so funny and yet also x-rated.

“No...not really. That’s more...well it’s not all over, you know? And it’s thicker than this. And I don’t know why I’m explaining this to you. You know what your cum feels like.” A snort from him gives away his bemusement.

“Yeah, but I’ve never smeared it all over my face before.”

“Maybe you should. Experience it for yourself for once. It’s not all that good for you by the way, despite what people say. It has protein but it’s not enough to make it worthwhile or anything, so don’t think I’m going to be asking you for your special facials anytime soon.” Looking away from him, you grab the next item on your routine before looking at him with a smirk.

“Damn, there goes my plan to be self-sufficient. Could’ve made a whole organic spa thing out of it.”

395 notes · View notes

viking-raider · 4 years

Text

Fangs Deep - Part IV *Mature*

Summary: Luna and Henry’s relationship continues to grow and develop a firm foundation. Titus invites Luna to a very important Vampire event with Henry, where she ends up causing some serious trouble.

Pairing: Henry Cavill/OFC

Word Count: 9,444

Parts: I II III

Rating: M - Language, Daddy Kink, Sugar Daddy, Size Kink, Caregiver Kink, Fluff, Angst, Slight Bullying, Light Spanking, Aftercare, Vampire Politics

Inspiration: Vampire!Henry is such a mood!

Author’s Note: It’s a sorta dark fic and sorta not. Thanks to @wondersofdreaming for reading it for me and being its beta! Tell me what you think!

Tag List: @jennylovelyheart, @peakygroupie, @jessevans, @rosie-loves-things, @ohjules, @mary-ann84, @omgkatinka, @the-freak-cassie-131, @heelsamizayn, @agniavateira, @cap-barnes, @romyr4, @michelehansel, @kaatelyyynn, @badassbaker, @mrsaugustwalker, @authentic-bish-face, @rizeandvibe, @severuined, @supernaturalvikingwhore, @bellastellaluna, @wondersofdreaming, @thisisntmyrightera, @michelle-1185, @winchwm, @royallylazy, @sofiebstar, @worldicreate, @agniavateira, @fantasygirlsuniverse, @witches-of-discovery-a, @xuxszx, @ayamenimthiriel, @keiva1000, @fantasygirlsuniverse, @itsreigns, @constip8merm8, @scorpionchild81, @mylifefallingupthestairs, @onlyhenrys, @luclittlepond, @ellixthea, @lebguardians, @geralt-yennefer-jeskier, @cherrybloomn, @p3nny4urth0ught5, @iloveyouyen, @hollydaisy23, @mcuimagination, @psychosupernatural, @sweetlybigdragonn, @whitewolfandthefox, @moviemonzy, @the-soot-sprite, @hell1129-blog, @trippedmetaldetector, @captaingothgirl1996, @dont8mind8me8eue, @peaky-marvel, @desperate-and-broken21, @monstersnmoney, @dancingwendigo, @redhot-mystacism, @thereisa8ella, @black-ninja-blade, @oddduckthatgirl, @rosewinx, @henrythickcavill, @tinabean37, @hnryycvll, @msblkfire84, @romangenesius, @emelinelovesjc, @strangerliaa, @lovieebby, @pinksdaydream, @fanfictionaddiction99, @seb-owns-these-tatas, @oh-for-fic-sake, @sauvage-et-libre, @mis-lil-red, @angreav, @crazyandanonymous4u, @the-mighty-jellybean @syversons, @jimmypagesandbrianmayshair, @iam-laiya, @worshipping-skarsgard, @thetruthandotherstories, @ruthoakenshield, @lostinaseaoffictionalbliss, @theonetheycallhannah, @nina-skyee, @thatgirly81, @inanna999, @suueeeeeee, @spideysimpossiblegirl, @x-wingwarriorbbpoe8, @beckster07890, @daddys-littlewhitegirl

“No.” Henry shook his head at Luna.

“Why not?” She pouted back. “It's cute.”

“It's too revealing.” He replied, taking the shirt out of her hands and putting it back on the rack.

“You said, I could have anything I wanted.”

“I did, but I'm not having you walking around with your breasts practically hanging out.” He chided her, directing her away from the article of clothing.

“But, Henry--”

“Do you want to shop, or do you want to go home?” He asked, stopping and looking down at her.

“I want to shop.” She replied, blinking up at him, gulping at the intense feeling coming off of him.

“Then, stop whining.” He told her, jaw tight. “If you try throwing another tantrum, we're going home and you're going to be stuck in the corner, for the rest of the day. Got it?” He warned her, in a low voice, with an edge that dared her to have the gall to defy him.

Luna's mouth dried up and fell open, big blue eyes staring at him in shock, the pure authority dripping off of him and washing over onto her was so intense, she was left speechless for a moment. She had allowed Henry, unspoken, to start acting more as a Caregiver, and Daddy her more, and she was still getting used to it. She hadn't gotten comfortable enough with it yet to call him Daddy or anything of the sort and Henry had so far only gave her stern words, if she started to misbehave and get out of line; before her brain was able to come back online.

“I got it.” She whispered, licking her dry lips.

“Excellent.” He sighed and relaxed again, gently touching her hair. “You want to finish?”

“Yes, please.” Luna nodded, relaxing as well.

“Well, go on then.” Henry smiled, kissing her cheek. “I'll be right here.”

Luna looked between Henry and the clothing section, making Henry smirk, and gave her a gentle nudge, then watched her start to weave in and out of the racks and shelves of clothing. She browsed the selections, picking things up and putting them back down, then held them up for Henry to see, wanting his approval on them, and would smile, when he nodded his head. A text on Henry's phone distracted him for a moment as Luna rounded a corner into another section of the store. He was just about to reply to the text, when he felt a spike in Luna's blood pressure and quickly made his way to her, expecting the absolute worse as he went around the corner.

“Luna?” He called out, panning around for her. “Where are you?”

“Right here, Hen.”

Her voice answered back, making Henry drop his gaze to the floor, where she was sitting cross legged in front of a display of big eyed beanie babies, cradling a gray, blue-eared Elephant in her hands. Henry relaxed, realizing Luna wasn't in danger or frightened; she was just excited at how cute the stuffed animal was, hugging it to her chest.

“Look how cute it is, Hens!” She smiled up at him, eyes sparkling.

“It's a very cute stuffie, Luna.” He smiled back at her, feeling her melting over it. “Would you like it?”

“Yes, I would.” She nodded her head, vigorously.

“He's yours then.” He chuckled, reaching his hand out for it.

“No, I want to hold it.” Luna shook her head, hugging it closer to her body.

“All right.” Henry laughed and shook his head at her, amused.

Luna carried the little stuffed beanie baby around with her as she looked around the store, picking out several articles of clothing, a couple shirts and a super cute pair of shoes. Henry secretly bought her a pair of expensive earrings with her birthstone set in them. Which he presented to her over lunch at a nice restaurant, Luna's mouth dropped open as he opened the velvety box and set it in front of her plate.

“Oh god, Henry.” She gasped, setting her fork down and picking up the box. “How did you even know my birthday?” She asked, looking across at him.

“I'm a very rich man, Sweet girl.” Henry smirked at her. “I can find anything out with the right amount of money.”

“You could have just asked me.”

“I could have.” Henry nodded, taking a sip of his water. “But, that would have given away the surprise.” He chuckled. “Do you like them?”

“I do.” Luna nodded, gently touching the teardrop opal earrings, a ring of diamonds around them. “They're absolutely beautiful.”

“Excellent.” Henry smiled, relieved. “We have one more shop to go to.” He told her, digging back into his food.

“For what?” Luna frowned, closing the box and setting it back down.

“You need a formal dress.”

“For what?” She repeated, lifting a brow at him.

“There's an event coming up in the next few days.” He sighed, finishing his lunch and pushed his plate aside, wiping his mouth with his cloth napkin. “I was going just have Tali watch you, while I attended it, but Titus specifically asked me to bring you.”

Luna swallowed. “Why?”

Henry heaved a sigh. “He likes you.” He admitted, rubbing the side of his face. “You made quite the impression on him two week ago, you are the only Human to stand up to Titus like you did, and live. I was sure he was going to kill you for being so blatantly disrespectful.”

“I didn't mean to be rude.” She whispered, shyly. “I just wanted you two to stop being so angry at each other. It was making me dizzy and like I was going to pass out.”

“You felt him?” Henry blinked at her, surprised. “You felt Titus's anger, through me?”

“I guess.” She blinked back at him. “Is that weird?”

“That is weird.” He nodded, licking his lips, then shook his head. “Anyway, the event happens yearly, the top elite of the Vampire Society go and Titus hosts it, naturally. As his son, heir and Prince, I am required to attend, there's no ifs, ands or buts about it.”

“What am I supposed to do?” Luna asked, uncomfortable and nervous about going to a party full of Vampires.

“Naturally, I'll be your escort, since you are my Nexum, and you'll be by my side, the whole time.” He explained to her.

“What's a Nexum?” Luna frowned, shaking her head at him.

“It's what a Human is called, when they are blood bound to a Vampire. You are blood bound to me, so it makes you my Nexum. It's Latin for bound or linked.” He explained to her.

“That being said, you need to understand something, my baby girl.” He whispered, his voice critical, as he leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. “Whatever you do, whatever you say, will be watched very closely and very meticulously, with extremely judgmental eyes, by several people that can be quite dangerous and cause a never-ending amount of trouble for Titus, and the rest of the Vampire society.”

“I don't know if I want to go with you, Henry.” Luna said softly, feeling her hands start to shake at the thought of saying or doing something wrong and possibly starting a serious conflict for Henry and Titus.

Henry smiled softly at her. “You'll be okay, Luna.” He assured her. “You just need to listen to what I tell you to do. I don't want to tell you not to say anything, that's rude and all. But, I need you to be very careful in what you say, if someone speaks to you, or you to them.”

“Like, what?”

“Don't speak of my business.”

“I don't know anything about your business.” She said, softly. “Other than that, you have a host of Humans that know of Vampires existing and are contracted to one of them, purely to feed on; so they don't go out attacking and killing people on the streets.”

“That's quite enough information for some people, little one.” He smiled at her. “If they ask you about it, try and behave like you don't know anything about it.”

“I'm not a good liar, Hen.”

“I know you aren't, love.” Henry laughed.

“What if they try glamouring it out of me?” She asked, suddenly.

“I'll be able to sense the change in you, if someone tries too, and I will put a swift end to it.” He assured her.

And them. He thought.

“You are part of my world now, Luna.” He sighed, leaning back in his chair.

“Part of me wishes I never dragged you into it, it's so dangerous and unpredictable. But, I love you so fucking much, that thinking about a life without you is painful and almost unbearable. I need you. I want you. I crave you. All the time. I've never felt like this with anyone, the closest is my bond with Titus.” He cleared his throat, fighting down a lump of emotions.

“I will do anything, and everything, I need to to ensure your safety, happiness and well-being. Even if it costs me my life.”

Luna leaned forward and grabbed at Henry's hands, still resting on the table. “Please, don't leave me.” She begged him, afraid at the thought of losing him.

“I won't, if I can absolutely avoid it.” He promised, squeezing her trembling hands. “Now, finish eating and we'll go dress shopping.” He smiled at her, sweetly.

“I don't know, Henry.” Luna said, chewing on her thumbnail as she looked at all the super expensive and really elegant dresses in front of her. “The only time I wore a dress was when I was going to school and it was for dress code.”

“Hm.” Henry hummed, rubbing her back as he stood next to her. “Do you trust Daddy?” He asked, looking down at her, he had started to refer to himself as Daddy to her more, hoping to help her get used to the term and the theme of it.

It still struck Luna as odd, she never called her biological father Daddy, not even as a small child; he was either dad or Colby. Gulping and clearing her throat, Luna nodded at Henry, still chewing on her nails.

“All right.” He smiled at her, gently wrapping his hand around her wrist and pulled her fingers away from her mouth. “Sit right there.” He pointed to a chair behind them. “And I'll pick something out for you.”

“Okay.” Luna nodded and sat down, watching Henry browse the selections.

“You need something elegant, but practical and appropriate.” He said, taking a dress off the rack, shook his head and put it back. “Nothing too revealing, but still shows those beautiful curves of yours.” He bit his lip and looked over at her.

“How are you with high heels?”

“I'd rather walk on hot nails.”

Henry chuckled, smirking at her. “Then, a dress that pairs well with flats.”

Henry spent several minutes looking through the store's collection, before his eyes landed on a black and royal blue, gradient ombre evening dress, a single shoulder strap with a row of straps at the back. It would hug Luna's curves, without giving anything away that only Henry should be able to see. It's length was appropriate enough for the occasion, but wouldn't be hindered by the fact she would be wearing flats, instead of heels.

“What about this one?” He asked, bringing it for her to see. “It really goes with the earrings I got you.” He smiled, watching her look the dress over. “and your eyes.”

“I really like it.” Luna nodded, licking her lips and getting up to have a closer look at it. “Oh, god.” She gasped, seeing the price tag.

“I don't care about the price, and you know it, sweet girl.” Henry chuckled and turned towards the wall of shoes the store also had. “These will work.” He pulled down a pair of black, almond-toe ballet flats with ankle straps and the smallest of raised heels.

“You're going to look even more gorgeous than usual.” He said, kissing her and taking the shoes and dress to the counter, paying for them.

“Did you feed Kal the rest of your lunch?” Henry asked, standing next to Luna as she sat at the dining table, his hands on his hips.

“No.” Luna shook her head, blushing as she lied to him.

“I know you're lying, Luna.” He sighed, disappointed in her. “So, tell the truth. Did you give Kal the rest of your food?”

“No.” She shook her head again, gulping.

Henry rolled his jaw and set a chair next to her, sat down, then pulled her into his lap. “Look at me.” He told her, baby blues serious. “Why are you lying to me?” He asked her, once she held his eyes.

“I'm—not...” She whimpered, looking away from him, guilty.

“Hey.” He snapped his fingers at her. “Look at me, don't look over there. My eyes are right here.” He held her chin in his fingers and turned her face back to his. “There's a good girl.”

“Now, out with it and tell Daddy the truth.”

“I'm--” Luna started to repeat herself, but Henry shook his head at her.

“You know, how you started to quietly let me take care of you?” He said, brows lifting.

“Mmhm.” She nodded, sucking on her bottom lip and struggling to keep eye contact with him.

“I think we need to have a verbal agreement on you allowing me to correct you.” He said, licking his lips, he could feel her raised anxiety at the notion of Henry punishing her; the PTSD of her father and everyone else that had abused her.

“I would never hurt you.” He told her softly, caressing her cheek with his thumb. “Or abuse you, for that matter.”

“Would you hit me?” She whimpered.

Henry sighed. “You mean spank you?”

Luna nodded her head, dropping her eyes from his for a moment, before bringing them back.

“I wouldn't spank you, if you don't like it, were uncomfortable with it or it caused you to have a flashback episode. There's several punishments I could give you for misbehaving. From a time-out in the corner, writing lines, taking something away, like your phone or your Switch, or making you go to bed early.” He explained to her, patiently.

“If there was something you did that was so bad , that it warranted me spanking your bottom, I will ask you first. If not, I'll punish you another way. Deal?” He compromised with her.

Luna sat in Henry's lap for a little while, mulling over the options and the explanation he gave her. Considering, if it was something she was comfortable with and didn't scare her, which she knew wasn't ever Henry's intention. Luna was more than sure Henry would never do anything to harm her, put her in danger, against her will, or anything of the sort.

She really didn't mind Henry acting as a Caregiver or a Daddy towards her, the added attention was nice. He would read to her before bed, something she always loved to do, because it helped her quiet down her mind. He made sure she ate breakfast, lunch and dinner, as well as stayed hydrated. She had a horrible habit of not drinking enough water, which nearly caused Henry's head to explode with shock, when he realized it. He would give her a bath too, if she was up for it; which she was most of the time.

The strong and reassuring feel of his strong hands massaging her body felt nice, and she marveled at the fact Henry was capable of being so insanely gentle. He could crush any part of Luna's body, with the weakest amount of pressure from his Vampire strength against her feeble Human body. Yet, he was so so gentle as he rubbed the soapy washcloth against her delicate skin, not leaving anything behind, not a single mark, but the soapy suds on her clean and fragrant skin.

No, Henry would never hurt Luna, even if he were to spank her.

And Luna knew that, with every drop of his blood inside her body.

“I'm--” She gulped and blushed, bright red.

“You can tell me, sweetie.” Henry whispered, soothing his hand up and down her back, getting her to relax so she leaned against him, her temple resting against his forehead. “Take your time.” He added, whispering into her ear.

“I don't--” Luna sighed, shifting in his lap. “I don't completely understand this. I know you've been, Daddying, me since we met, that night.” She confessed, speaking slowly, so her words didn't come out in a jumbled mess. “I didn't fully realize it, or even knew what it was, until you said something about it.”

“It confuses me..”

“What about it confuses you, Nana?” Henry inquired, when she paused for a moment.

“Why do you do it?” She asked, looking down at her own lap.

“Why do I love being a Caregiver and a Daddy?” He asked, looking for clarification.

“Yeah.”

Henry took a deep breath and glanced up for a moment, trying to find a way to explain to Luna the reason why he enjoyed and loved doing it, why the kink attracted him so much. “I love taking care of people I love and care about. I'm very protective of those close and important to me.” He frowned and shook his head, struggling to explain it.

“I know, it's a very different kind of loving, protective care. Drawing you baths and bathing you, picking out your outfits and making your meals for you. Helping you make decisions, or making them for you, when you can't. Making sure you're happy and healthy, taking your antidepressant--”

“I'm bad at that.” Luna blushed, abashed.

“I know you are.” Henry chuckled, tucking her hair behind her ear. “That's why I make sure to give it to you, myself. Then, I know for sure you've taken it and that important and vital need you have, is filled.”

“I enjoy being the person you come to when you're sad or upset, when you're struggling with something, whatever it is, and be the person to help you fix it. To be that ear, when you need someone to listen to you or the shoulder, you need to cry on; to comfort you. Your support system. I love you and I want to take care of you, in every way, shape and form. Being a Caregiver and a Daddy to you is one of those ways, as is me being your boyfriend.”

“And my Vampire.” She chuckled at him, cheeks still warm.

“That too.” Henry smiled, warmed and touched. “I'm not a normal person, and not just because I'm a Vampire. I'm unconventional in a lot of ways. If you don't want or don't like me being a caregiver and a Daddy to you, I will stop. I'll just be your supportive and loving boyfriend and protective Vampire. All I want is your health, happiness and well-being. To love and cherish you, inside and out. To have your love and affection back.”

“Do I do that?” She asked, glancing up at him. “Share your love and affection back?”

“In so many ways, babe.” He nodded, kissing her cheek. “You take care of me, as much as I take care of you.”

“I don't mind you Daddying me, or wanting to be my Caregiver.” Luna admitted to him. “That's why I don't say anything, when you do it.”

“But, it does make you uncomfortable sometimes.” Henry said, he had felt and noticed it.

“I'm just not used to someone wanting to take care of me like that, or at all, really. It's not a 'I'm uncomfortable because I don't like it or want it.' It's a 'I've never had this before, and don't know how else to react.'”

“If that makes any sense.”

“It does.” He nodded, softly. “I understand that, and I try not to be too overbearing with it. I don't want to push it on you, all at once, and have you become really uncomfortable with it. I'm an extremely patient man, Luna. I'll do whatever it takes and I'll move at any pace you want too. I don't care if it takes you months, or even years, to get comfortable enough to call me, Daddy. I don't care if you never call me Daddy. That's not what I'm seeking from you.”

“If you want to completely give yourself into allowing me to be your Daddy and be your Caregiver, then great. If you only want to give half of yourself to it, fine. If you don't want to do it at all, then we won't do it at all, that's great too. As long as I have you.”

“I'm willing to try some things, to see what I do and don't like, before I decide how much of it I want to give myself over too. If that's all right with you, Henry?” She said, very quietly. “You don't know if you like something, until you try it at least once; my mum always said.”

“That's more than fine with me, sweetheart.” Henry told her, patient and understanding.

“So, I'm all right with you punishing me, if I'm bad.” Luna told him, bluntly. “And, if you feel one of them does require a spanking, I would like to, at least, talk about it before you do it.”

“Of course.” Henry nodded, seriously. “I will never punish you without giving you at least one warning and telling you why I'm doing it and what it is. I try to be a rational person in everything I do.”

Luna wrapped her arms around Henry's neck and hugged him, she actually felt a lot better about the new and developing dynamic in their complicated relationship. Luna had grown to trust Henry, she had started trusting him almost instantly, when they met, and she never trusted anyone more than him. Henry hugged her back, feeling her reassurance mix with his own assurance and relief.

“I did give Kal the rest of my lunch.” She confessed into his ear, still hugging his neck. “I'm sorry for lying to you and feeding Kal non-doggy food.”

“Why did you?” Henry asked, pulling her away from his neck and looking her in the eyes.

“I wasn't hungry anymore and he kept staring at me, so I just did it.” She admitted, nervously licking her lips.

“You already know how naughty that is, don't you?”

“I do, Henry.” She nodded, ashamed of herself.

“All right.” He sighed and raked a hand through his hair. “I don't want you to ever lie to me again, understand? If you do, there will be severe consequences.”

“I understand, Henry.”

“I don't want you to feed Kal anything that isn't meant for doggy's to eat, either. You can make him very sick.” He added, giving her a firm look. “Now, I want you to go upstairs to your room and get your Switch and your phone. You're losing your games for lying to me and your phone for feeding Kal inappropriate foods.”

“Okay.” She whimpered, hanging her head.

“That's a good girl.” He whispered back, kissing her cheek. “Go get them, please.” He told her, standing her up and directing her towards the stairs.

Luna went upstairs to her bedroom, getting her phone and Nintendo Switch. Coming out of her room, she found Henry standing by his bedroom door, his hand held out. With a soft pout, Luna put them in his hand and Henry went into his walk-closet, locking them inside his safe, so she wouldn't be tempted to sneak them; though Henry didn't think she would.

“Henry.” Luna said, as he got into the driver's seat beside her.

“What, baby?” He replied and started the car, before looking at her.

“I'm scared.” She whimpered, fidgeting with Henry's signet ring, that still hung around her neck.

She had been panicked and anxious about the party for the wealthiest and most elite Vampires in the world, for nearly the week leading up to it. She didn't want to mess up and cause any problems for him and Titus, or anyone else for that matter. Luna had tried, once, already to convince Henry to just let her stay home, even if it meant being babysat by Tali. But, Henry refused to allow it, he wasn't going to defy Titus's wish for her to attend the event, as much as he wanted to give into her wish, about staying home. Henry sighed and rested his hand on her thigh, gently stroking the chiffon fabric of her dress, he felt bad for her, he really did.

“I know you are, sweetheart.” He frowned, kissing her temple and trying to reassure her as much as possible. “But, you'll be all right and you'll be perfect tonight. I have all the faith in you.”

“What if I do fuck up?” She asked.

“Watch your language.” He corrected her, gently. “If you end up saying or doing anything that causes trouble, we'll deal with it accordingly.”

“Will you punish me?” Luna squeaked, she had given Henry verbal consent to punish her, if he felt she needed it.

“That will completely depend on what you do or say, sweet girl.” Henry replied in a measured voice.

Henry opened the car door and helped Luna step out, then handed the keys to the valet standing on the curb, patiently waiting to be of service.

“Thank you, Bruno.” Henry smiled to the valet, looping Luna's arm with his and walked into the massive building with her. “It'll be all right, love.” He whispered into her ear as they entered the large and spacious room, full of people.

“Are all of them Vampires?” She whispered back, eyes sweeping the room.

“There are several other Nexums here. There's a few humans that are assistants or just arm candy.” He explained, scanning the room himself.

“Nephew!” A voice rumbled with a cheery tone.

“Remus!” Henry grinned at the dark haired Vampire advancing on him, and returned the bear hug. “Bindy.” He smiled at the young lady with him, kissing her hand, politely.

“Who's this sweet dove?” Remus asked, lifting a brow at Luna.

“Remus, this is Luna Davenport, my Nexum.” Henry replied, smiling so proudly at Luna. “Luna, this is Remus, Titus's youngest brother, and this is Bindy, his Child and Partner.” He introduced the three of them.

“It's a pleasure to meet you.” Remus smiled at Luna, extending his hand to her.

“And you.” She smiled back softly, letting him have her hand and blushed softly as he kissed it.

“Pleasure.” Bindy smiled at Luna, leaning in and kissing cheeks with her.

“Same.”

“Is Soren and Emil here?” Henry asked, resting his hand on Luna's hip.

“Soren and Alan aren't here, they've got pressing business in the States to deal with, and Emil..” Remus replied, looking around the room. “Ah, there he is.” He motioned to the entrance on the other side of the room.

“What is Wyn doing with him?” Henry asked, heart pounding.

“Don't you know?” Bindy asked, lifting a brow at him. “The two of them have, apparently, become a thing. Emil adopted her, after Seb died.”

“How did you not know that, after how many decades the two of you were gallivanting around the world together?” Remus laughed.

“I knew she and Emil knew each other, I didn't know about the nature of their relationship.” He answered, feeling a cold sweat start to break out.

Luna looked up at Henry, concerned and squeezed his arm, bringing him back out of his building panic, smiling softly at him as he looked down at her. Henry smiled back down at her, squeezing her hand in return, then shivered as a cold tingle ran down his back.

“Excuse us.” Henry smiled at Remus and Bindy, leading Luna away from them and back into the hallway outside of the event space.

“What is it, Hen?” Luna frowned.

“Titus wants to see us.”

“How do you know that?”

“He sensed us in the area and called for me through our bond.” He explained, stopping at a door at the very end of the hall and knocked, before entering.

“Titus.”

“Henry.” Titus smiled, turning towards him. “Ah, and Luna.” He grinned at her, giving her a once over. “You look absolutely gorgeous.” He complimented her, kissing both her cheeks and her hand, chuckling at her blush. “I am glad you came.” He added, softer.

“Thank you for inviting me.” Luna replied, biting her lip.

“Of course.” Titus nodded his head. “You're my son's partner and Nexum, I wouldn't dream of not including you in the family functions.” He assured her, with a light touch of her arm. “Henry,” Titus turned to him. “The Duke of France, Dimitri Rodin, is attending this function. Being that your French is considerably better than mine, I would like you to entertain him and his wife, Louise. There's been rumor that the Duke of Russia, Anton Smirnov, is trying to form an alliance with Dimitri, to undermine my throne.”

“Again?” Henry hissed, shaking his head and rolling his eyes.

“Yes, he's still holding the claim of being one of Arius's children.”

“Arius was dead by the time that wrench popped into existence.” He huffed back, gobsmacked at the Russian's attempt to take the throne out from under Titus.

“We know this, but he has already convinced Peter Kindler, Duke of Germany of it, and almost has Isabella York, Duchess of America convinced of it as well. That's why Soren and his Child, Allan, are there dealing with it.”

“It's going to be a very politically fueled night, then.” Henry sighed, running a hand through his combed curls, the styling balm he put in to tame them was bare capable of doing so. “I fear, I won't be a load of fun tonight, baby girl.” He frowned, sympathetically, at Luna, whose mind was spinning from all the information he and Titus discussed.

“It's okay, Henry.” She replied, blinking the tangle of thoughts out of her head. “The fate of whatever you two were just talking about, sounds a million times more important.”

Henry's smile softened, cupped her head in his hands and gently pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Thank you for understanding, honey.” He whispered, resting his forehead against hers. “I love you.” He added, even softer.

“I love you too, Hen.” Luna smiled and whispered back, resting her hands on his hips.

“What?” Henry frowned, pulling away from Luna to look at Titus, who had the strangest smile and elated look on his face.

“I didn't say anything.” He laughed, turning away to look into a small mirror on his desk, fixing his tie.

“You don't need to say anything.” Henry teased back, shaking his head at his Maker.

“Why don't we all go out and make ourselves seen.” Titus replied, turning back around, utterly put together and composed.

The vibe of Titus's authority and power oozed off of him in heavy waves, if there was any doubt to his age and station in the world, standing next to him for a few moments completely crushed that doubt to ash. Henry stepped around Luna and opened the office door, bowing his head as Titus stepped through and kept his head bowed as Luna followed behind him, then brought up the rear of his two most beloved people in the world.

Offering his arm to her again, Luna and Henry followed after Titus as he walked down the hall, the people there, lining the walls to get out of the King's way, bowing their heads respectfully as he passed them. There was a tall chair at the front of the room, on a slight platform; which Titus went straight for and sat down in, taking his place as head of the event, the Vampire Society and rightful King. Everyone in the room stopped what they were doing, conversations ending mid-word and eyes drawn to him.

It was eerily silent for several long moments before, slowly, all the champagne and wine glasses raised in the air, toward Titus, and in one voice, echoing in the room came the worlds: “Vivat Rex.”

Long live the King.

“Longo vivas tempore.” Titus chanted back.

That you may live a long time.

Henry quietly translated the phrases into Luna's ear afterwards, then took a sip of his wine, hailing and honoring Titus and his reign.

They stood together for a while, speaking to whoever came to speak with them, but Henry was keeping his eye out for the Duke of France. He had explained to her, between the lull of people approaching them, that each country around the world had either a Duke or Duchess to preside over the region, since Titus couldn't be everywhere all at once. They all answered to him, no matter what, but like all Kingdoms, there was disdain going on. Several of the Dukes and Duchesses, more vocally the Duke of Russia, felt that Titus had reigned as King long enough, and needed to step down and let new blood in.

Namely, anyone, other than the Arius bloodline.

“So, Titus, his brothers, you and so on?” Luna asked, sipping the glass of wine Henry had given her.

“Exactly.” He nodded, sipping his champagne. “Ah, Dimitri!” Henry smiled, seeing the Duke enter the room, both of them bowing to each other. “Comment allez-vous?” He asked, switching his glass to his right hand and shook the Duke's with his left.

“Très bien et toi?”

“Même.” Henry nodding his head, politely. “Duke Dimitri, I would like you to meet my girlfriend and Nexum, Luna Davenport. Luna, this is Dimitri Rodin, Duke of France.” He said, motioning a hand from Dimitri to Luna, giving Dimitri the permission to address her.

“Un plaisir de vous rencontrer, ma chère.” Dimitri smiled, taking Luna's hand and bowing over it, before giving it a delicate kiss.

“Merci, mon plaisir aussi.” Luna grinned back, flattered.

“You know French?” Henry smirked, surprised and impressed.

“Top marks in my class.” She replied, loving the amused surprise on Henry's face to learn something he didn't know about her.

“My little box of surprises.” He chuckled, kissing her temple.

“Your Maker noted that you wished to speak with me, when I paid my respects to him.” Dimitri said, lifting a brow at Henry.

“Ah, yes.” He nodded, setting his glass down and got down to business. “It's been brought to my attention that Anton has been trying to form an alliance with you, on the false pretense of being an Heir to the Arius bloodline, my Maker's bloodline.” Henry started to explain to him, his whole air changed as he started talking business with him, his shoulders relaxed and he locked his arms behind his back, giving Dimitri and their conversation his complete attention.

“Oui, Monsieur Anton, came to my offices in Paris, not a month before. Wishing to discuss a possible business venture together, that could increase our standings in the Society.” Dimitri began to explain to him, brow pinching. “We only spoke briefly on the matter before he was forced to cut the meeting short, because of a...problème.”

“What was the issue?”

“One of the people he patrons summoned him on a personal matter.” Dimitri explained to Henry. “I didn't see the note, so I know not what it was exactly about.” He took a sip of his wine, then handed it to a boy standing just behind him. “I assure you, Monsieur Cavill, I have no intentions on breaking my promise and oath to King Titus. He has been generous and most helpful to me, not only in installing me as Duke of France, after my predecessor, Monsieur Jean-Luc tragically took his life.” He made a cross over his chest, an old habit from his Human life.

“But, personally as well. I would have been in financial ruin, had he not invested in my company, for Vampire-Friendly restaurants.”

“I would hate for you to believe Anton's nonsense and not only lose your position as Duke, but for your company to collapse as well.” Henry told him, in a tone that was filled with pity should such a thing happen, but also lined with a threat that if the Duke dared to cross Titus, Dimitri would lose everything.

“Oui.” Dimitri nodded, gulping and readjusting his tightening tie and collar.

Henry suddenly looked down at Luna, startling her for a moment, with the strange and dark tint of his eyes. “Tali.” He said and snapped his fingers.

A tall, dark haired and Hazel-eyed woman suddenly appeared beside Henry, brow lifted at him in question. “Yes, Henry?”

“Will you please keep an eye on Luna, while Dimitri and I speak more about our business?” He asked, his eyes still on Luna. “I don't want to bore her with all this silly politics.” He told her, gently touching Luna's cheek and brushing her hair off her shoulder.

“Of course.” Tali nodded her head at Henry and offered Luna a sweet smile.

“I'll come find you, when I'm done here, sweetheart.” He told her, sweetly, and kissed her gently on the lips. “Do behave.” He added against her lips, before turning back to Dimitri, motion out of the room. “Shall we, Monsieur Rodin?”

“Hello, Luna.” Tali smiled offering her slender and smooth, cocoa colored hand. “I'm Talicia, but you can call me, Tali.”

“Pleasure to meet you, I've heard some about you from Henry and Titus.” Luna replied, shaking her head.

“All good I hope?” Tali laughed, she had a breathtaking smile.

“Oh, of course!” Luna nodded, worried she had offended her. “They hold you in really high regard, Titus especially.”

Tali grinned, looking at Titus over her shoulder as he sat on his throne talking to someone. “I do hope so, or he'll be having a rough night.” She chuckled.

“Excuse me?” Luna blinked at her, caught off guard.

“I'm Titus's Nexum.” She smiled at Luna, soothing away her confusion. “I started out as the CEO to one of his companies, the Hercules Corporation. It's a military company.” She explained to her.

“The government knows about Vampires?” Luna shook her head.

“Oh, yes. It's an open secret.” Tali nodded. “The Hercules Corporation caters to Vampires that are currently in active duty. It's very beneficial for the military and government to have Vampires in their employment. They are hard to kill, heal rather quickly, they're very fast and strong, among everything else they are capable of. I am also an agent for AI6, or Alpha Intelligence, Section Six.”

“It's like the MI6.”

“That's incredible!” Luna replied, really impressed by her.

“It is!” Tali smiled, proud of herself. “Titus took notice of me for my work as an Agent and started sending me on his most delicate cases and missions, and we hit it off and fell in love.”

It was hard to miss the pure look of love Tali had for Titus, and why he and Henry trusted her so much. It was a daunting job to help run a military company, on top of going on missions as a secret agent.

“Has he tried turning you?” Luna asked, innocently.

“Oh no.” She shook her head. “I'm content being Human, I don't want the stress of going through the change, then out living all my loved ones. So, we have an agreement that he won't turn me, no matter what.”

“It must be hard for him, to watch you age, while he stays the same, and then eventually has to watch you die.” Wyn's voice spoke as she came out of the crowd to join them.

“Titus and I know the sacrifice it demands, for the choice I made in not having him turn me.” Tali replied, coldly. “We've come to terms with it. Besides, the ingestion of Vampire blood, especially blood as strong as Titus's is, prolongs a Human's life. It won't be a while yet, until I die.”

“Unless, something was to happen to you.”

Tali narrowed her eyes at Wyn, opening her mouth to say something to her, before her eyes jerked towards Titus. “Excuse me, Luna. I'll be right back.” She said, touching Luna's arm for a moment, then crossed the room to her lover.

Luna floundered for a moment, getting stuck alone with Bronwyn for the first time, since they ran into each other on Kal's walk. “How are you, Wyn?” She asked, taking a large gulp of her wine.

“I'm excellent.” Wyn replied, flicking her red hair off her bare shoulders. “How are you, baby?” She chuckled, menacingly.

“Fine, thank you.” Luna huffed back, finished off her wine and turned around to set it on the table behind her. “What do you want, Wyn?”

“Just to talk.” She replied, running her eyes over Luna's outfit.

Henry had taken Luna to get her nails done and she had them painted a matte, royal blue with almond tips, the dress and ballet flats that he bought her, the Opal and Diamond earrings and Sapphire and Diamond Bracelet, he also gifted her to help tie in the outfit.

“Henry buy those for you?”

“He did.” Luna replied, lifting a brow at her.

“Where is he, anyway?” Wyn asked, looking around the room for him. “So, rude. Your first introduction into proper Vampire Society, and he ditches you.”

“He didn't ditch me.” Luna answered, narrowing her eyes at the other woman. “He had to go deal with a political situation with the Duke of France.”

“Oh, what's that all about, then?”

Luna started to open her mouth, then snapped it shut again, realizing she had already said more than she should have. Wyn smirked at her, knowing she had Luna exactly where she wanted her to be, crossing her arms over her chest in smug triumph.

“It's too late now, baby.” She mocked Luna, popping her lips at her. “You might as well tell me the rest.”

“No.” Luna squeaked softly, shaking her head.

“What's that matter, baby?” Wyn continued to taunt her. “It's not like the whole room doesn't know about what's going on. Everyone is talking about it, it's okay for you to talk about it too. Daddy doesn't have to know.” She giggled at Luna.

Luna's eyes panned around the room, to all the talking people and wishing that either Tali would come back or Henry would, but neither of them did and Luna could feel Wyn pressuring her, until she broke.

“There's something going on between France and Russia for the Vampires, and they want to dethrone Titus.” She blurted out, hoping she'd let it go now and leave her be.

“Bronwyn, leave Luna alone.” Tali snapped as she came back up to them, seeing the distressed and uncomfortable look on Luna's face and in her body language. “Don't you have horns you need to file down? I think I see them coming out right now.” She narrowed her eyes, critically at Wyn's forehead.

“Don't you dare call me Bronwyn, Talicia, or so—”

“Or what?” Tali snapped, stepping closer to Wyn, her sharp heels clicking on the expensive tile floor, completely unruffled by the other woman's attempt at intimidating her.

Wyn looked Tali over and huffed, backing down from her.

“That's what I thought, Bronwyn.” She said, purposely dragging out Wyn's name. “Now, get lost.” She added in a low hiss.

Huffing again, Wyn spun around on her high heels and stormed away, hands clenched into fists as she went. Tali watched after her, until she vanished in the crowd and turned back to Luna, relaxing her tense body.

“Are you all right?” She asked, looking Luna over.

“I'm fine, thank you for that.�� Luna replied, biting her lip. “I don't think she likes me.”

“Bronwyn doesn't like anyone.” Tali told her, taking two glasses of wine off a serving plate as a waiter passed her, handing one of them to Luna. “She's always got her fangs in a bunch, and it doesn't help that you're with Henry; when she's still attracted to him.”

“She has no one to blame, but herself for that.” Luna commented, taking a relieved sip of the sweet and fruity white wine in her glass.

“Amen.” Tali nodded and clinked glasses with Luna, both of them laughing.

“Hey, Henry.” Tali smiled as the Brit appeared. “How was your meeting? She asked, but her smile slowly faded seeing him eye Luna. “What is it?”

“What have you been up too, little one?” He asked Luna.

“I've been right here with Tali, Henry.” Luna frowned at him, not understanding why he was giving off such an angry vibe.

“She's been right here with me the entire time, Henry.” Tali spoke up, noting how tense his body was under his suit. “We haven't left the room once.”

“Is that so?” He asked, tightly, the muscles of his jaw tightening and flexing.

“Yes.” Luna mewled, gulping.

“I only left her for a few moments to speak with Titus, but my eyes were on her the whole time.” Tali explained. “She didn't go anywhere. She only got, unfortunately, stuck talking to--”

Henry's upper lip twitched faintly, then looked to Tali. “Thank you for watching for me, I appreciate it. Greatly.” He told her with a quick nod of his head. “But, Luna and I need to have a private conversation.”

“Of course.” Tali nodded, putting her nursed glass of wine aside and nodded her head to them, before going back to join Titus.

Henry reached out and took the wine Luna had also been nursing and put it next to Tali's, then took her hand and led her out of the event room. He didn't say anything to her as he pulled her down the hallway to the lift, pressing the up button and waited for the lift to arrive.

“Henry--”

“Hush.” He cut her off, quickly and pulled her into the lift with him, pressing the second highest button and the doors closed.

Even as scared as she was about what was going on, Luna squeezed Henry's hand for comfort and got a quick squeeze back, relieving some of her anxiety. Stepping off the lift, Henry pulled a card out of the inside pocket of his suit jacket and marched down the hall and swiped it into a reader, then pushed open a door, holding it.

“Go in.” He instructed Luna and followed in behind her.

It was a conference room, a long glass table in the middle with about a dozen office chairs pushed into it. The opposite wall was full length windows, showing off the bright and sparkling lights outside from the street fifteen stories below and surrounding buildings.

“What did I tell you about coming here with me tonight, Luna?” Henry finally asked, his jaw tight again.

“To behave.” She whispered, finally feeling the full extent of the trouble she was in.

“Behave how?”

Her mouth hung open for a few moments, then gulped. “I was to behave, by not talking about anything I shouldn't talk about.”

“Why?”

“Cause it's important to you and Titus, and you can get in trouble, if the wrong people find out about it.” She replied, dropping her eyes to Henry's polished dress shoes.

“And did you behave like you should have, while I was away?”

Luna felt a hard lump instantly form in her throat and blinked several times at the growing burn in her eyes as tears wanted to form. “No.” She mouthed, soundlessly.

“What was that, little one?” Henry asked, brows lifting at her as he leaned slightly forward.

“No.” She mewled, a little louder, shaking her head.

“No, you did not.” He agreed, hooking his index finger into his tie and tugged it loose, too tight around his throat as his blood pressed throbbed in his neck. “You broke the one rule I gave you for tonight, Luna, and not only did you break it and misbehaved because of it, you said some very sensitive things.” He told her, removing his suit jacket and folding it over the back of a chair.

“I will take some of the blame for that, I shouldn't have said it in front of you.” He added, removing his cuff-links and rolling up the charcoal gray sleeves of his dress shirt. “I missed you being slightly into Little Space. That being said, you saying what you did, could and still can, cause a good amount of issues.”

“I didn't mean to.” Luna whined, biting back a pouty lip.

“You still did, little girl.” He told her, pulling out a chair and sat down. “What you said, could start a fucking war, if you said it to the right—or the wrong—person? The lives and livelihoods something like that can take, is astronomical, Luna.”

Luna just nodded her head, resigned to take the punishment for it.

“I promised, we would talk about this.”

Henry sighed, rubbing his face as exhaustion seeped into him. “The price of your actions is immeasurable. So, I'm going to spank you for it.” He told her, bluntly, and watched her shiver. “If it was anything else, I wouldn't. I would have simply taken you home and put you to bed, or sat you in the corner.”

“But, you need to understand the gravity of what's happened and been done, the things Titus and I now have to clean up. You need to feel the impact you just made.”

Luna shivered again and fought to keep her breathing under control and not break down.

“Do you accept this?” Henry asked her, seeking the permission to spank her, like he promised he would.

“What will you do, if I don't?” She asked him, glancing up at him.

“I'll take your Switch and Phone again, you'll be grounded to your room, with nothing; not even Kal, to keep you company, other than your thoughts. You also won't be able to sleep with me, either. If you try too, you'll be grounded for even longer.”

“How long will you ground me?”

“A month.”

Luna's eyes flared wide and her silent tears dripped down her cheeks. She could take not having her phone or games, even not being able to snuggle and play with Kal. But, to be stuck in her room, for a month, without being able to sleep with Henry, to be close to him. The thought of it alone made her hurt and anxious.

“What will be, Luna?” He asked her, patient, but still very upset and disappointed.

“I-I'll..” She gulped and rubbed at her face, smearing her wet make-up. “You-you can...” She took a deep breath and shuffled closer to him.

“You need to tell me, Luna. I'm not going to punish you, until you tell what choice you've made.” Henry shook his head. “Use your words.”

Luna glanced at the door.

“Don't worry about that, little one.” Henry told her, following her eyes. “No one's going to come up here and they can't hear, either. This room is soundproof.” He assured her, feeling her reluctance to be spanked in a building full of Vampires, who would no doubt hear it, if Henry hadn't taken the consideration to bring her here.

“You can...s-s-spank-me.” She mewled, meeting his eye.

“All right.” He nodded, wrapping his hand around her wrist and pulled her closer to him, moving her around to his side and pulled her across his lap, shushing her whine. “Don't tense, or it'll hurt more.” He explained to her, pulling her dress away from her bottom.

“Have you ever been spanked before, Luna?”

“Not exactly.” She replied, watching her necklace and Henry's signet ring swing back and forth on her neck.

“I want you to count each one I give you.” He told her, leaving her black lace panties on. “Nice and clear. If you miss a count, I'll start over at one. Any questions?”

“No, Henry.” Luna shook her head, hugging her arms around his leg and buried her nose into his thigh for a moment, inhaling his scent to help calm herself for a moment.

“Good, start counting.”

Henry pressed his hand down on the small of Luna's back, keeping her in place as he spread the fingers of his other hand open and cupped his palm, bringing it down in a firm and quick swat.

“One.” Luna jerked and hiccuped, surprised by the sting it left behind.

“Good girl.” He cooed at her, and gave her another smack.

“Two.” She whimpered, tears dripping to the carpet below her. “Three.”

“You're doing so good, little one.” Henry praised her, giving the red prints on her clothed bottom a firm rub.

“Four.” Luna sniffled, shivering in his lap. “Five.” She yelped as the fifth slap was the hardest.

“You're such a good girl, Luna.” Henry told her, rubbing her back for a few minutes, then fixed her dress and turned her around to sit in his lap. “Are you going to tell Daddy, what it was that you did wrong?”

The word Daddy made Luna's brain snap and jerked her head up to look him in the eyes. “Bronwyn.” She whimpered, realizing exactly what was going on now. “She told you, what I said?”

Henry blinked at Luna. “How did you know it was Bronwyn?”

“She was bullying me. Calling me a baby, in a mean way, said you ditched me and I just blurted out that you were with the Duke and what you were talking about.”

“She's who Tali said you got stuck talking too?”

“Yes.” Luna nodded, wrapping her arms around Henry's neck.

Henry frowned and cradled Luna against his chest, rubbing her back, even more troubled now. “It's all right, my good girl.” He whispered into her hair. “You took your punishment very well, I'm so proud of you.” He told her, pulling out his handkerchief and gently wiped her runny eyeliner off her face, smiling as she yawned and nuzzled her face into his neck.

“Why don't we just go home, hm?” He hummed, hugging his arms around her. “It's getting late and it's well past your bedtime.”

“I'd love that, Hen.” Luna agreed, her feet hurt from standing so long, she was overly warm from all the wine she drank and her bottom was slightly sore now, as well.

“All right.” He smiled, standing them up and tucked Luna into his jacket, kissing the top of her head.

“Why does Bronwyn bully me?” Luna asked, laying her head on Henry's shoulder as he drove them home.

“Because, she's Bronwyn.” Henry sighed, resting his hand on her leg. “She's upset that I'm with you. That I don't love her anymore. There's so many reasons, baby girl.” He turned his head and kissed her hair. “But, don't worry yourself about it.”

“She's just a bunch of hot air.”

-- Part V --

304 notes · View notes

joonkorre · 3 years

Text

its crazy late but

@drarrymicrofic prompt: blanket fort

(there’s no plot. none. just dudes being guys, guys being pals)

(caution: not very micro, more like a one shot. a whole lot of anecdotes. i’m writing this under a blanket with snow beating at my window, so of course this has to be very soft and warm. you have been warned)

“Hello?” Harry says into the dark. He’s just gotten home and instead of seeing the familiar orange hue of their beetle-shaped lamp (a gift from Luna, of course), there’s a single sliver of moonlight slipping through the curtains. Nothing else seems to exist in the living room but the echo of Harry’s greeting. Tangerine and sage drift into his nose, followed by the bitter tang of smoke. The scent of Draco’s favorite candle, newly extinguished.

Draco just left. Discovered a breakthrough in his research and fled to the Ministry lab, maybe.

Harry sighs. Unlaces his boots and hangs up his coat absentmindedly only for it to crumple onto the floor. Another sigh. He bends and retrieves it, deciding instead to throw it in the laundry bin. Might as well; he’s been trudging around in Dayhound mucus for hours and neither his dragonhide boots nor coat were spared.

Walking into the kitchen, Harry grabs a glass from the drying rack and pours himself water from the pitcher in the fridge. It’s ridiculous how a simple act like this can drain his energy so, but it does. Curse breaking isn’t a walk in the park; even walking hurts, considering the amount of magic he expends on shite like a 500-year-old wailing locket on a day to day basis. Exposure to different kinds of magic - dark, Old Magick, elemental, countlessly and endlessly more- for 8 hours straight more often than not result in a fierce ringing in his temples and pinpricks on his skin.

After years of doing it, he can scarcely tolerate one Portkey trip from wherever he’s assigned to back to the main headquarter before getting uncontrollable shivers. Another 30 minutes on the metro, then a 10-minute walk home. In addition, Harry has to sleep for at least 8 hours every night to replenish his energy. Morning comes, he wakes up, Apparates to the headquarter, and the cycle continues.

Why does he even stick with curse breaking at this point? Right, a wry grin graces Harry’s lips, Draco thinks the uniform is hot. Oh, and can’t forget the job benefits, insurance, whole nine yards.

With the glass now rinsed and settled once more on the drying rack, Harry drags his feet to the bedroom. The clock - an antique Draco stole from his cheating ex - hits 7:18 PM, but getting ready to go to sleep sure sounds like a decent idea. Harry palms the back of his aching neck and winces. He’d go shower, scrub the dirt and tension off his limbs, and maybe heat up the leftovers from two days-

“There you are. I was wondering how much longer drinking water could take.”

Harry looks up from his slippered feet to see Draco. Or, more specifically, Draco’s silhouette. Behind some kind of white cloth. A white cloth that’s conveniently placed where the focus of the bedroom should’ve been.

The relief at seeing his husband evaporates.

“What,” Harry says, “where’s our bed.”

Draco’s silhouette crawls to the opening of the cloth… tent-shaped thing. Pewter grey eyes peer at him behind strands of near-platinum blonde, its icy color soothed by the orange tint of… ah, so he’s brought the bug lamp in here. Neat.

“I,” Draco answers. Pauses. “Might have brought it somewhere else.”

“Somewhere else.”

“Yes.”

Harry shakes his head. An exasperated chuckle escapes his lips.

“Is ‘somewhere else’ the recycling center?”

“Why,” Draco flops down on the floor, appearing tired of holding himself up on his elbows for more than 10 seconds. It’s peculiar to see, the gesture a bit ungraceful for someone like him. Harry is helplessly in love amused. “Do my ears deceive me? Am I being confronted, cornered, accosted for being a good husband? Were the 5 minutes it took to Shrink and Levitate the wretched old thing away from our safe haven worth your condescension, dear lover?”

“I guess I did say I hate-”

“Correct!”

“-the headboard. Nothing but the headboard. Yesterday. While I’m half asleep. Baby.”

“Oh, pish posh, I hate it too! In fact, I’m doing us both a favor disposing of the entire thing altogether.”

“God, however can I thank you? I mean, you did rid us of our bed where we sleep on.”

“You can thank me by taking off those horrid gears faster and come here,” with that, Draco crawls back to where he was sitting before.

“You love these gears,” Harry says, hanging his harnesses and tool belt in the closet and walking into the bathroom for a quick shower, “you love them against your ba-”

“Put a lock on that filthy mouth, Potter, what will the Daily Prophet think?” Draco’s yell almost drowns out the shower spray. Harry laughs, his stomach hurting for the right reason at last.

When he re-enters the bedroom, Draco is leaning out from the tent thing.

“Come, get in, get in,” he beckons with a hasty wave.

Harry points to his wet hair with the hand holding his towel. Draco clicks his tongue and waves his hand more aggressively.

His husband’s level of theatrics is directly proportional to how slow Harry is at doing what he says, so he nods, fondness overflowing, and obeys.

“What’s all this?” He crouches and crawls in, eyeing the collection of pillows and quilts surrounding Draco and what would be Harry’s seat. It seems that he had also lugged in the chairs from their dining room to provide some structural support for the tent.

“A blanket fort, lover,” Draco says, his gaze tender. Harry’s finger tips tingle with every touch of cotton, linen, silk, as he gets situated. It’s been years and years and years and years, and Harry can never get used to, can never take for granted, the weight of his husband’s undivided attention.

“Huh,” he says, sitting down with an ‘oof’, “isn’t this for kids?”

“A blanket fort is a blanket fort,” Draco takes the towel from Harry’s arm and puts the throw pillow Ron knitted in his lap. He hits a button on the laptop in front of them, and Harry’s favorite jazz collection plays. He blinks. He thought Draco would play his questionable atmospheric-white-noise-POV-you’re-having-tea-in-a-gothic-vampire-library playlist, the weirdo.

Velvety smooth sax flows through the air. Harry exhales, easy and content, and lets Draco tilt his head. He towels Harry’s hair, massaging unhurried circles on his scalp and varying the degree of pressure. In no time, his head lolls forward, eyes closed, chin a breath away from his well-worn shirt. A slender, pale hand cups his cheek and holds his head up and steady. Meanwhile, the hand’s owner leans out of the blanket fort to get something.

“Ow.” A grunt. Harry smiles; most likely a cramp from all the leaning.

Then, his husband reseats himself, this time with a smell. A mouth-watering, delicious smell, tickling the back of Harry’s nose. He opens his eyes to see Draco lifting off the lid of a ceramic bowl perched on a tray, steam floating out and fogging Harry’s glasses. It’s purple yam soup, topped with chopped up shrimp and ground beef.

“Your usual order from the Viet place nearby whenever Pepper-up isn’t sufficient,” Draco murmurs, placing a spoon in Harry’s hand, his words warm against Harry’s temple. Huh, he didn’t think Draco would notice. “You said today you’d deal with those disgusting booby traps you showed me, thus I reckoned I should put the yams on our counter into good use.”

Harry stares at the soup, stunned. Draco must have taken his expression as something else.

“Oh, right,” he says, “I heated it up on the stove, but you were taking atrociously long so I casted a Heating charm. Let me take it off, okay?”

Draco flicks his hawthorn wand, a hand squeezing Harry’s shoulder as if he could see the prickling running up Harry’s nape.

He turns to look at his husband. When Harry’s career was starting to take its toll on his magical core, Draco didn’t hesitate to dive headfirst into Muggle living. Easier said than done, and it took months for him to stop frowning at the “absolutely bizarre, Potter, bizarre” appliances, but he got there in the end. Despite his constant bitching about everything, Draco not once raised a word about the drastic switch, effortlessly guiding Narcissa to gossip about the Albescu clan’s abhorrent matriarch when she asks about how he’s faring.

“Gosh, I,” Harry says. Mumbles, really, into Draco’s collarbone, filling his brain with the woodsy aroma of potion making that no amount of expensive body products can mask, “that’s lovely, baby, thank you.”

“Eat,” Draco says, rubbing his chin on the top of Harry still-damp hair and messaging his tense neck. Harry knows he’s breathing him in too. “Or I’ll have to heat it up in the kitchen again, and forgive me but I’d rather stay here for the next 12 hours, at least.”

“Lazy arse.”

Draco laughs, a momentary rumble of his chest, then moves forward to click something on the laptop. Harry’s on his fifth spoonful of pure comfort when the jazz music stops, and on the blank wall opposite from their blanket fort is the title card of a movie. Strange, Harry didn’t even notice the mini projector. He squints.

“Why is there Korean subtitles?”

“Lover,” Draco tosses a napkin at Harry’s crossed legs, “what is watching movies online without the occasional bout of piracy?”

“Pira- piracy,” Harry chokes, the hot soup stinging his palate, “we have a Netflix subscription.”

“You can’t find shite like this on Netflix.”

“Of course we can. Baby, we don’t know anyone who’s good at computer stuff and can deal with the viruses.”

“There’s no virus here, I checked.”

“How,” Harry stresses, “and again, piracy.”

“Sometimes,” Draco says, lowering the speaker volume, “not doing crimes… is worse.”

“What the fuck,” the main character, a square-faced woman with a python around her neck, has a monologue in a completely different language. “What the fuck? Is that Italian?”

“Yes, but I’m French.”

“And?”

“And they’re both Romance languages. I can understand certain words and translate it for you.”

No, he can’t.

“Why are you looking at me like that? Keep eating,” Draco settles amid the pillows, long hair settled on his satin-clad chest, white against emerald. Harry sneers at him - an unfortunate habit he’s gotten from Draco - and turns to watch the movie.

True to his words, Draco translates every dialogue and mimics the characters’ voices with zeal, contradicting his stoic expression and somber, interlaced hands, looking like a cranky judge having to deal with reckless teenagers on their anti-authority phase. Harry can tell that he doesn’t understand a thing, and soon enough he’s woven a story about how the thriller-mystery they’re watching is actually a vicious custody battle over a duck. For each of Harry’s occasional snicker at the absurdity Draco has thought up is a playful kick at his ribs.

Minutes pass. With Harry’s bowl now emptied, he puts it on a chair and goes to wash up.

The moment he sits back down, Draco’s big toe pokes at his spine. Getting the memo, Harry grins and reclines on the pillows. His left side is flushed against Draco’s right, the kinks in his neck eased off from the angle. They, as per usual, gradually get closer to one another, and at some point, Draco lays his head on Harry’s chest and ear on his beating heart. It’s calming to him, Draco had said when Harry asked, on the third night of their honeymoon. With the war long behind them, there was nothing to fear. Only the constellations existed as their witnesses.

“You died, Harry,” he had whispered, full and tipsy. “It was the worst thing I’ve ever seen, despite all the shite I made you go through.

“You were so far away in Hagrid’s arms, I couldn’t see your face,” the night had been blinding, but his eyes had found Draco’s anyway. “It felt like my heart died with you.”

Harry had kissed his forehead and hugged him close. His heart had always been there for Draco to take.

“What’s up with the blanket fort?”

He has a lapful of Draco, a lungful of peach and cedar scented shampoo, and the sleepy timbre of his husband’s voice against his chest. The Italian movie is the last thing on Harry’s mind.

“I wasn’t aware of its existence growing up,” Draco says. “Having anything other than an immaculate bed when one wasn’t sleeping was uncouth, see, so you could imagine my surprise when Teddy demanded to play in something as messy as a fort so often.”

Harry doesn’t need to imagine it; he had witnessed it himself. Draco, freshly released from a two-year sentence in Azkaban, mellowed and tentative, yet determined to reconnect with his mother’s sister and his nephew. Harry had been wary too, standing in the corner of Teddy’s bedroom, staring at the fuzz of blonde on Draco’s shorn head and his weak gait. Teddy, the darling boy with his clumsy hold on Draco’s thigh, afraid that the haggard man would trip without help, had led him to his play area.

“Fort, fort,” the boy had screamed in Draco’s ear, but he hadn’t flinched. He had nodded and gone along with Teddy’s babbled directions, then sat back on his heels and fixed a wide-eyed stare at the monstrosity Teddy had called a fort (his designing skills were, unsurprisingly, underdeveloped at the mere age of two).

Swiveling his head, he had gawked at Harry, who had still been standing in the corner with his arms crossed, confusion and hysteria in the arch of his aristocratic brows.

It had been the first time he had looked at Harry in the eye for years. In seconds, it was 6th Year all over again, with him watching Draco pushing his food around with a fork from across the room, unable to look away. Obsession, a voice unlike Hermione’s helpfully defined, had slithered up and under his skin. It had remained there for years, stubborn and ardent, an emotion he had tried to leave behind time and time again. He’d never succeeded.

It’s Draco, after all.

“He never let anyone but him enter the fort, remember? Back when he’s still making us build it for him?” Draco’s fingers tap a random rhythm on Harry’s stomach. Harry tightens his arm around him, shifts a bit. “So many forts and I still didn’t know what it’s like to be in one.”

Somebody downs a shot in the movie. Harry doesn’t quite register it. “I don’t think I’ve ever been in a proper one either until now. Didn’t have enough space in the cupboard. Plus, the hanging around the beds at Hogwarts felt pretty cozy by themselves.”

Draco hums. “Mhmm, I say. Another ‘first’ for us.”

Harry glances at the crown of his head. The man doesn’t sound surprised; Harry wagers that he already knows and decided to make one for the both of them today.

They continue to watch the movie in silence, whites and blues and purples flooding his sight, until Draco yawns and Harry blinks his eyes shut for far too long.

“Baby.”

“Hmm?”

“Sleep?”

“Yes.”

“Where, then? We have no bed.”

“I still maintain that I made the right choice”

“Jesus Christ, you’re so rash for an academic.”

“Well, in my professional opinion, sleeping in a blanket fort every blue moon does wonders for one’s quality of sleep,” Draco gets up on his elbow to smirk at Harry, “we can look at other beds tomorrow, can’t we? Now hush. Rest.”

“Ha,” Harry says, at least 5 more words to follow up on that just on the tip of his tongue. But then Draco runs a gentle hand through Harry’s hair, taking his time with it, the remaining hints of Harry’s migraine from work fading with every curl of hair carefully unknotted. He mumbles this and that, silly, insignificant things, engrossed in his task, and Harry listens carefully as his eyelids lower.

Draco takes off his gold-rimmed glasses (so sweet and soft Harry can barely feel it), cleans them and puts them on a chair. Through half-lidded eyes, Harry watches him cover them both with a quilt and return to Harry’s chest, curling up like a cat. Draco’s arm is around his midriff, peach and cedar pervading his senses anew, and Harry forgets whatever he was going to say.

Cold ankles pressed against bare calves, Harry is already deep asleep when the credits roll.

#drarry #drarrymicrofic #drarry fic #fanfic #harry potter #draco malfoy #blanket fort #oneshot #3k words #draco would be the type to get mushy mushy in private and call harry shit like lover darling my love #harry would say draco baby and babe everywhere #thats it hes uncreative like that #and draco wouldnt even care #both of their love languages are acts of service so draco doesnt need reassuring when he knows harry would burn cities for him #they love each other very ardently that simple gestures communicate entire sonnets #and theyre cool with that #good for them #joonkorre writes

33 notes · View notes

sunscreenstudies · 3 years

Note

hey ik this is random but I was scrolling thru the leaving cert tag and saw your post abt your results. Firstly congrats (even if it is 3 years late haha), secondly I’m currently in 6th year and was wondering if I could ask for some English advice? I’m looking to go up a grade (h3->h2) and was wondering if you have any particular tips for studying english, the exam, technique, or for literally anything relevant to the subject. There’s no pressure to answer this, ty either way :)))

Hey! Thank you so much for the ask and i am so sorry i’ve only gotten round to it now XD

LC English tips below!

Okay so it’s been a while since I did the LC but if things are more or less the same, then you’ve got your three texts to answer a question on.

Tip #1: Even though there is an awful lot to learn, you just need to remember key words, and you’ll sail through!

In the comparative, you need to compare your texts in every. single. paragraph. You could write a fantastic essay, but if you don’t say “In comparison to this…” “Text 2 however differs from this…” “Similarly…” “The two texts are different in the sense that…” etc. you will get zero marks at all.

When answering your poetry question, you need to keep referring to the style of the poet. Every past poetry question can be broken down into two simple questions: What did the poet write about? and how did they say it? If you can answer both these questions on every poem you learn, you’ll do great!

Also, do not learn any more than 5 poems per poet and don’t learn any more than 5 poets to begin with. This covers you completely no matter who appears on the day!

Tip #2: Please please pleaseee remember that for the comphrehension section, you must answer one question A and one question B from two different texts! If you answer from the same text you will get 0 and worse than that, this section is worth 12.5% of your total paper which means you will be down an entire grade immediately.

The length of your answer needs to correspond to the marks going for that question. In question A you usually have three parts, worth 15m, 15m, and 20m. Your 20 mark answer must be longer than your 15 mark questions.

For every 5 marks a question is worth, you need 1 A4-page pararaph. Unless you’ve got tiny writing, this is usually 5 to 7 lines of the page.

Your teacher has undoubtedly told you all about timing and “don’t spend any longer than 40 minutes on your question A” and yea they have a point, to an extent. I spent about an hour answering my question A and then sailed through question B because for me, I found the second question a lot easier to answer. Don’t panic if you don’t stick to the “recommended time” because every single person is different and what you find easy might be difficult for someone else.

In saying that, if you are spending loadsss of time on one particular section and you can feel the clock ticking, then move the heck on. Take a deep breath, leave a blank page for yourself to come back to that question later, and start your next part. Every question has a finite amount of marks, so no matter how brilliant your 20 mark answer is, you can only ever get 20 marks for it, and if that answer came at the expense of not getting question B done at all, then you’re down a grade already.

Tip #3: They want your opinion. Let me repeat that. They want your opinion. No matter what the heck they ask you, whether it’s about poetry or your novel or a Shakespearean text, the examiner will be checking to see what you thought of the text. I know firsthand how weird writing things like “In my opion...” or “I believe that...” but this is how you get the marks. Don’t lose the H2 you’re aiming for cause you’re feeling a bit awkward. After the exam, that feeling will never matter again, but your grade will!

Link every single paragraph in every single answer. This doesn’t have to be complicated, you don’t even need to write an entire sentence. Just start every new paragraph with phrases like “However...” or “Therefore...” or “In contrast to this...”. If you don’t link your paragraphs, the examiner will think that you don’t know what you’re talking about and that you have no opinion of your own (see Tip #3) so use those joining phrases!

Tip #4: For that letter/article/diary entry question B, make sure that whatever part of it you answer, you know the layout for that style. Reports must have a title, introduction, work carried out, findings, suggestions, recommendations, and conclusion sections. Essays need to have a clear introduction, 5+ paragraphs, and closing. Even diary entries should begin with ‘Dear Diary’ which physically causes me pain to write, but it’s what gets you the marks!

Letters are the most asked question B but the most diffuclt to get good marks in. First things first: Figure out if it’s formal or informal. Formal will be editors, principals, government, or anyone that you would address as “sir” or “ma’am” in real life. Informal will be your friends, close family members, penpals, or anyone you’d hug goodbye and laugh with in real life.

Formal letters begin with your own name in the right hand corner of the page, with your own address directly below it. Skip a line, and then write the date below it, always in the format of “01 January 2020″ and be sure to check the question for any hint about what this date should be. If you’re writing a letter to your boss asking about organising a staff barbarcue for staff morale, then you wouldn’t date it in the middle of December, right? Sign off with something professional like “Kind regards” or “Thank you for your time”

Informal letters begin with your own address on the top right-hand corner of the page but do not write your name! It’s an informal letter to your friend; they know who you are. Skip a line, and then write the date below it, always in the format of “01 January 2020″ and pay attention to the time of year again. Sign off with something casual like “see you later!” or “talk soon!”

Tip #5: Section 2′s composing section is worth an entire 25% of your paper. If you want to get a good grade, you need to get a good grade in this. If you’re aiming for a H2, then you need to get a H2 in this section minimum.

Your essay should be between 4 to 6 pages, or 1000 to 1250 words. At least.

Always open with a quote, a rhetorical question, or a shocking statistic. I went online the night before my Paper One exam, and wrote down 10 quotes from well-known people about the most popular topics in life, eg. Education, Love, Money, Travelling, Death, Youth & Aging, etc. and just learnt them off in half an hour. I ended up using three of them on the day, and you have no idea the relief you feel when you’re guaranteed that at least one thing in your composition will get you marks!

Take an entire A4 page and plan your essay before you start. Not only is it just common sense and super helpful to get all your ideas down before you forget them, but if you run out of time for whatever reason, then the examiner will be able to see what you were planning to write, and will give you an extra mark or two. Your plan doens’t have to be complicated and you definitely shouldn’t spend any longer than 5 minutes on it. Just throw down a few words, organise them based on paragraph, and then start writing.

And finally (i’m so sorry that you had to read all that) remain calm! No matter what happens, whether you get a H1 or a H7, as long as you do your best then no one can say anything to you! You are more than your grade and you are more than some English exam that won’t matter in ten years anyway. Stay calm, always put your mental and physical health first, and remember that this paper is not the end all be all of anything. You’ve got this.

#ask #leaving cert #leaving cert advice #leaving cert english #study tips #anon

32 notes · View notes

yungidreamer · 4 years

Text

Blackout Part 1

Summary: When a storm blows in just before finals it throws life into chaos with no power. But the trio’s home becomes a refuge in the storm. A place of warmth and happiness where everyone can gather to ride out the storm and enjoy some time together. Seonghwa and his love, Yeosang, find some special time together. A moment of respite in the storm.

Word count: 6.6k

Content warnings: fluff and smut, this time featuring Seonghwa and Yeosang, sex (m/m), a bathtub, the stress of finals and a blackout across town. Mostly happy bonding with friends and partners by candlelight.

‘Twas the weekend before finals when all through the city, not a building had power, it was a true pity. An ice storm had blown through late on Thursday coating everything with half an inch of ice bringing down power lines and tree branches. Classes were canceled on Friday and departments mailed out plans for finals, with professors encouraged to make finals something people could take at home if possible to leave halls that might need to be powered by generators for those that absolutely had to take tests on campus.

The dorm halls and residences were dark but at least heated, however, with no promise that power would be restored soon, people were eager to go home for the holidays as soon as possible. Students who were given the option for take home or online files were all making plans to head home early. Those who weren’t were forced to go to pick up meals from the one of the few functional cafeterias on campus. No one was happy with the situation.

In their little house near campus she, Mingi, and Yunho were happy to be in their cozy little home together. They were especially thankful for their fireplace and for the gas stove the place had come with, since it meant the interruption in power hadn’t given them nearly as much trouble as it was giving most of their friends. With the fridge and freezer down, they moved the frozen foods out to the backyard. The weather had remained around freezing since the storm and it would keep it as well as the freezer would have. The things that needed to be kept cool but not frozen, they kept in the little entry porch in a cooler that was just enough to keep things from freezing but was plenty cold. All in all, it was actually pretty nice, minus the fact that they couldn’t watch anything on TV and were only keeping only one phone on at a time. Their travel batteries had been real lifesavers actually.

On Friday evening they learned that Yunho’s chemistry class was keeping their scheduled practical final on Tuesday which he needed to stay for. Mingi’s math teacher, an old crotchety tenured professor, insisted on having an in person final for his 200 + person introduction course. He didn’t trust people not to cheat, nor did he trust the newfangled online tests some people in the department had started using. Luckily that was scheduled for Monday afternoon so it wouldn’t keep them there any longer than Yunho’s. She was lucky and had already been sent her four finals she had left for her classes and was hoping to have them done before they drove home for the long Christmas holiday.

At around 7 that Friday Yunho’s phone rang. It was a frazzled and stressed out Hong Joong wondering if he might be able to come and study with Yunho at their place. With no power he had been studying as much as he could during the daylight hours and making due with a hanging flashlight he had set up in the evening. He grumbled about not being able to make any of the food they had and being stuck with sandwiches for days with no way to cook in the house.

“We can cook here if you want to bring stuff to make some food here,” Yunho offered.

“You can cook?” Hong Joong perked up on the other end of the phone. “Do you have power?”

“No we just have a gas stove and oven,” Yunho explained.

“Wou...would you mind if I came to stay for a little while?” Hong Joong questioned hopefully. “I can bring food. I also have a solar charger we can share to charge phones and stuff. Also a radio I’ve been using to keep me sane.”

“Oh yeah sure, that would be fine,” Yunho agreed. As he finished speaking, he heard a shuffling, and then Hong Joong make an exclamation of objection.

“You can cook?” Came the tight voice of Seonghwa over the line.

“Ye...yes…” Yunho replied slowly.

“Can Yeo and I come study there?” Seonghwa sounded tense and close to begging. “I will cook food and I am good at it. Please. I miss warm food and I want to get out of this tiny dark room. I will do anything.”

“Sure,” Yunho laughed. “You guys can come, too. Maybe bring some candles or light as well as some food to make.”

“Thank you,” Seonghwa’s voice was full of relief as he said it. “I have to call Yeo and tell him to meet me. We will bring whatever we can. Ugh, if only one of our dorms just had one of the functioning cafeterias, I could bear to stay there. I just wish we weren’t going to have to come back and forth.”

“Do you mind if they stay for the weekend?” Yunho covered the mic and whisper asked the other two. When they nodded he brought the phone back to his ear and offered, “You guys could stay the weekend. Just come and bring whatever you need to study and clothes for a couple of days.”

“Seriously?” Seonghwa said, unsure if he could trust what his ears had just heard. It was too good to be true.

“Yeah,” Yunho confirmed. “We have room and it will be good to have everyone together in one place for studying. It will be a big help if you cook and bring extra food, so...yeah, you guys are welcome.”

“Thank you,” Seonghwa said gratefully before passing the phone back to Hong Joong.

“We can stay over?” Hong Joong asked, a note of extra hope entering his voice.

“Yeah, bring what you need,” Yunho confirmed. “Or at least what you can. We will make the best of this studying time and time to get the finals done before the holiday.”

“You guys are the best,” Hong Joong laughed. “Okay, we will see you soon.”

“So we’ll be having some guests it seems,” she said, setting her study material aside for the moment. “Guess that means I should clean up a little.”

“I’ll help,” Mingi offered, closing his math book for the moment.

“Me, too,” Yunho turned off the screen of his phone and set it on the coffee table. The boys redressed their beds to give the guests places to sleep while she cleaned up a little in the kitchen, doing the last of the dishes and checking what they had in their cabinets, thinking about what they might need. Yunho, when he was done making the bed, went out and grabbed more wood for the fireplace. It was starting to get dark and, while the furnace was keeping the house warm, the light and extra coziness it was giving the house was making the blackout much more pleasant.

They had decorated the house for Christmas after getting back from Thanksgiving with their families. They had bought a tree from one of the lots, strung it with colored lights, and bought a cacophony of colorful glass balls and bangles. It wasn’t the sort of tree that would have made it into one of those home life magazines but it was homey. Off on one side of the tree Yunho had eventually discovered a trio of special ornaments she had bought and tucked off to the side. They were little enamel picture frames, each with a photo of one of them, with Our First Christmas Together and the year written on the back. Yunho was in a bright blue oval shaped frame that had a sunburst sort of design under the enamel that caught the light when the tree was lit. Mingi was in a bright red square frame that had a sort of scaled or feathered sort of pattern that seemed to shimmer in the light. Hers was purple and round with little gems that dangled off the bottom. He wasn’t sure how long they had been there before he noticed, but he made sure to bring it to Mingi’s attention when he noticed it. They both loved it and wished they had thought of the gesture first, but of course she had done it. Silently they promised, next year they would surprise her, but this year they could both still get her something amazing for Christmas.

Mingi had gotten her an antique style pearl choker with a small square panel in front that had a starburst pattern in silver and crystals. He liked the idea of her wearing it, like a mark that she was his, even if everyone didn’t know it. He hadn’t given it to her. He was still deciding if he wanted to give it to her before they went home or save it for when they got back. There were still days to decide, so it stayed tucked far back in one of the drawers in his bedroom, waiting for the right time.

Yunho had bought her a hair comb from a local antique shop. He had gone expecting to get her something simple like earrings but had laid eyes on the ornate, two pronged, silver comb and knew it was what he needed to get her. She often twisted her hair up into easy buns on the back of her head, held there with one or two simple wooden hair sticks she used. This comb, with its gorgeous rococo style curved decorative plate would look perfect sitting in her hair. It was something she would use, which meant he would get to see his gift on her often; just a little something saying she was his.

They had gotten each other something as well. Yunho had bought Mingi a new, expensive pair of Bluetooth headphones he could use when he needed some isolation to keep his mind on studying. His last pair had started to wear out, the battery only lasting three or four hours these days. The new ones were better and would be more forgiving for his usual forgetfulness when it came to putting them on the charger when he was done.

Mingi had bought Yunho a new suit set including dress shirt, jacket, pants, tie, and pocket square. Yunho had noticed that he had outgrown his last set over Thanksgiving and knew that he needed to get something soon but had been putting it off due to school. Mingi had gotten him a steel grey suit with white button up and sky blue tie and pocket square. Honestly, he couldn’t wait to see him in that and really wanted to come up with some date, some occasion to see him in it. The color would go perfectly with his current blond locks he had gotten lightened even a shade brighter during his last visit to the hairdressers. That he was going to give Yunho before he went back home for the holidays, as there was a good chance he might have a reason to wear it then. As long as he brought it back home, since Mingi was dying to take him out in it with their girl.

Before long the house was really ready for guests and for more studying. She pulled out a few more candles and put them on the dining room table to light when people went there to eat or study, whatever might be needed. They had been concentrating the light in the living room, with a few candles around the room and a couple of wall sconces lit that she happened to have. They were remarkably good at lighting the room with their mirrored backs and high hanging light. She had bought them because she liked them, not knowing they would come to be genuinely useful and not just frivolous pretty things she just enjoyed having.

A little after eight, Hong Joong arrived at their door with a heavy bag in tow behind him, packed with school things, clothes, food, and other useful supplies he thought he could provide. He came into the house, grateful to be in the warmth again after battling icy sidewalks and freshly falling snow that was now coming down. It took him a moment after he took off his coat to take in the room he had entered. The whole place just oozed cozy warmth with its cheery decoration and surprising brightness given that he had been making due with a hanging flashlight.

“Wow,” was all he said when he looked up, taking it all in.

“Welcome to our home,” she greeted him with a hug, helping him take his things into the room. “Is there anything that needs to be kept cold in your stuff?”

“Oh yeah,” he shook his head, bringing himself back to the moment. “This stuff here is perishable.” He pulled out a bag with cheese, milk, meat, condiments, and a few other odds and ends he had that he and Hwa had decided he should take to be useful. “I also have this stuff that needs to be cooked but doesn’t need to be kept cold,” he said, passing a bigger bag to Mingi, who was standing nearby. “I think Hwa and Yeo are going to bring more but this is what I was tasked with bringing.”

“Thank you and make yourself at home,” She said, walking off to put the perishables in the makeshift fridge. “You can take one of the boys’ rooms. The beds have been made. You can leave your stuff in there and pick a place to study. We can do something about food when everyone gets here.”

“You guys are lifesavers,” Hong Joong said as he dragged his bag back towards the bedrooms.

It didn’t take long for Seonghwa and Yeosang to arrive at their front door, laden with food and other things they needed to study and make their place home for a short time. Seonghwa looked like he was ready to cry when he saw the cozy and welcoming interior of their house. After having faced the possibility of having the stress of studying in the dark with bad food, the relief was fresh and sharp.

“I am going to be in your debt for eternity,” he said, dropping his things near the door and drawing a slightly surprised Mingi into a tight hug.

“You’re welcome,” Mingi replied with an amused laugh and a gummy smile.

“This place is really nice,” Yeosang said, taking everything in with a slow scan of the room. “You even have a fireplace...wow.”

“You can put yourselves in the room that Hongjoong didn’t take,” Yunho instructed. “Is there food we need to deal with?”

“Yes but don’t worry about it,” Seonghwa picked up their other things and prepared to take things to the bedrooms. “Let me put things away and then I am going to deal with food. Where am I…” Yunho pointed down the hall and the two boys happily made their way back to take the unoccupied room. They re-emerged from down the hall with Seonghwa’s arm around his boyfriend’s shoulder and one of Yeosang’s slung loosely around his waist in return. Hong Joong appeared behind them, his arms laden with study material.

“Okay,” Seonghwa gave Yeosang a kiss on the side of his head before heading to get the food things he had left near the door. “Show me the kitchen.” Yunho gave an amused chuckle and led him through the wide doors that opened into the kitchen. Seonghwa looked like he was tempted to hug the stove when he laid eyes on it. He was almost in despair at the idea of not having ‘real’ food between now and finals. He instead settled for hugging Yunho again before he set about pulling everything out he had brought so that it could be organized and put away. Yeosang helped to gather the things to be put into the cold as Seonghwa decided what to cook for everyone.

“Is beef stew okay for everyone?” He asked after having taken stock of all the ingredients. Everyone gave affirmative answers and Seonghwa set to work preparing everything to go into the dinner. Yeosang wandered into the kitchen to help and she joined them shortly thereafter, making quick work of the chopping, peeling, and the searing. Soon, all that was left was the hour or so everything needed to simmer in the large pot.

With dinner sorted, everyone settled in around the living room with their books and notes to study. She settled in near the fireplace next to Yunho and Mingi, wrapping herself in a blanket as she pulled out the psych final she had decided to work on first. Yeosang and Seonghwa settled themselves on the smaller loveseat, Yeosang tucked in between his boyfriend’s spread legs as they both studied from large textbooks. Hong Joong stretched out on the couch, his head near the end where Yunho was seated near the fireplace, allowing him to poke at him occasionally as they both studied the material for their final.

By the time dinner was declared done by an ecstatically happy Seonghwa, everyone was ready to take a break from their studying. They served the stew in whatever dishes worked, not having quite enough bowls to go around. She and Hong Joong made do with a couple of large mugs, which were actually much easier to carry into the living room than the bowls. With the plentiful light and warm atmosphere, they decided it was the best place to eat.

“How many finals do you have?” Yeosang asked the room in general as he took a bite of the delicious stew.

“Three,” Mingi replied. “But only one has to be done on campus. The rest were changed to take home stuff given the circumstances.”

“I have four, but they are all take home,” she followed up. “I’m just hoping I can get them all done before we drive home for the holidays.”

“Oh that’s right,” Seonghwa waved his spoon in the direction of the trio. “You guys all came from the same place, didn’t you? Are your families all friends or something?”

“Sort of,” Yunho scrunched up his face a little as he rolled the explanation around in his mind. “They all know each other, but mostly because we know each other, not the other way around.”

“So then how did you all meet,” Yeosang asked as he leaned against his boyfriend’s shoulder.

“Mingi threw us all in the water at summer camp.” Yunho said with a wide grin, successfully eliciting the reaction he hoped from the other boy.

“Hey,” Mingi objected, putting one hand on his hip as he spoke. “I did not...okay I sort of did. But it wasn’t like it sounds.”

“He got better with the canoes,” she noted with a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Especially when there wasn’t the threat of ducks.”

“Come on,” Mingi pursed his lips and grumped at the two of them.

“Imagine if you hadn’t,” Yunho reached out to him, stroking his cheek softly. “Our girl might be with San and...well...we would probably be alone or something. Oof, not a pleasant thought really.”

“I guess we really owe those ducks,” she joked, falling into peels of laughter at the thought. Beside her Mingi huffed, pulling her into his lap for a kiss that ate her laughter. Yunho scooted over, wrapping his arms around both of them with the warmest expression on his face.

“I think you had to be there,” Yeosang faux whispered to his boyfriend, causing him to give a snort of laughter and slap his shoulder playfully.

“I am so single…” Hong Joong sighed, his eyes looking between the two couples who were there in front of him. He tucked into his soup with a shake of his head, glad to be there but also wishing he had someone to bring with him, like his roommate did. Seonghwa glowed when he was around Yeosang, or Sangie, as he often called him, getting groans and eyerolls from those near enough to hear it. He and Hwa had met in a dance class together last year and the two had been nearly inseparable since then.

They finished the stew and Hong Joong, Yunho and Mingi volunteered for dish duty since they hadn’t helped with cooking. Even though it was nearing 11 at that point, most of them wanted to press on with studying.

“Hey love, can you bring in the big bottle of cider?” Yunho asked Mingi as they finished the dishes. Mingi nodded and headed to the porch to bring in the gallon bottle of cider they had bought a few days ago. While Mingi retrieved that, Yunho scoured the cabinets to find the packet of mulling spices they had somewhere.

“Here you go,” Mingi set the heavy glass bottle on the counter, pressing a quick kiss to the side of Yunho’s neck, causing the other boy to blush and giggle. “What are you making?”

“I thought some cider would be good as a sort of desert,” Yunho shrugged.

“Mmmm, good idea,” Mingi moved to hug him from behind, tucking his head in on Yunho’s shoulder as he watched him work. “Warm and cozy.”

“It’s kind of fun having everyone here,” Yunho noted as he lit the burner under the pan. “Don’t you think?”

“Mmm,” Mingi agreed. “It’s more fun than just studying alone would have been. And Seonghwa can cook; that stew was delicious.”

“Maybe we can have them over more often,” Yunho suggested, swaying in the arms of the other boy.

“Sometimes,” Mingi agreed. “I still want time just with the two of you.”

“Of course,” Yunho turned his head and gave him a peck on the cheek. “Time with you is the best part of my day.”

“Yeah?” Mingi asked shyly, flashing him a gummy grin. Yunho made a mhmm sound and moved to put his arms around his shoulders and took his lips in a slow, lazy kiss.

“Awww, am I missing all the fun?” She teased as she joined them in the kitchen, having come to see what had been keeping them since the dishes were done.

“Yes,” Mingi teased, looking at her over his shoulder, not letting go of the man in his arms.

“Poor me,” she pretended to pout. “Good thing I came to check, I suppose.”

“Come here,” Yunho beckoned, pulling slightly out of Mingi’s arms, enough to lift her onto the counter next to them. Mingi took her lips and Yunho nibbled down along the side of her neck below her ear. She gave a moaning giggle into Mingi’s mouth, shivering at the tickling sensation being sent through her.

The hiss of the cider starting to simmer in the pan brought them apart. They portioned the cider into mugs and took them out to the others in the living room. Hong Joong took his mug in his hands, clasping it joyfully and breathing in the fallish scent with a contented grin.

“I forgot how good this stuff could be,” he sighed. “I swear I haven’t had this in years and I don’t know why.”

“Mmmm,” Seonghwa hummed happily in agreement. “I am loving this all but I am starting to get tired. I think I am going to have to shower and get ready for bed after this. I am pretty sure that the words are just passing through my brain and leaving no mark at this point.”

“Well we have showers and hot water,” she offered. “We even have a nice bathtub if you want to use it.”

“Oh man, it has been so long since I had a bath,” Seonghwa sighed.

“You and Yeo could, uh, share it,” Yunho suggested. “It’s big enough for two if you want to relax a little before you head to sleep.”

“Really?” Seonghwa sat up straighter and sent a look to his boyfriend. It had been a while since they had a place to relax together that wasn’t one of their dorm rooms when their roommates happened to be out.

“If Mingi and I can fit in it, you two should be just fine.” Yunho chucked. “I’ll show you where it is.”

Seonghwa hopped up, taking Yeosang by the hand, and followed Yunho down the hall. They made their way through the shared bedroom to the master bathroom, candles in hand. Yunho pulled out a couple of towels for them and showed them where they kept the bath bombs and scented oils they used in the bath. They thanked him for the help and for the accommodations and let him go on his way. Seonghwa started the bath while Yeosang got their toothbrushes and pajamas from their room for them to change into when they were clean and ready to go to sleep.

The candle light danced off the pale tiles and glinted off the chrome fixtures. The room was warm and cozy as snow fell outside the small distorted window high up on one wall. The sill had a growing line of snow that was building on it as it continued to fall, deafening the world around them.

Seonghwa stripped his clothes off and slipped into the warm water he had scented with rose. The steam rose from the surface of the water, wafting the scent into the air with it. He shut off the water just before Yeosang returned, clothes and toiletries tucked under his arm.

“Getting started without me,” he tsked, setting them down on the counter by the sink.

“Just making sure it is perfect,” Seonghwa retorted, sending him a tempting smile. He slid himself under the water, dampening his hair and face in the warm water. He stretched out his hand to his boyfriend, inviting him in with a hungry look through his damp eyelashes. “Come in, the water is fine.”

Yeosang smiled down at him as his hands went to the hem of his shirt, slowly lifting it off over his head. Seonghwa bit his lip as he looked at the smooth stretch of skin he exposed in the flickering light of the room. He could never get enough of him. His slim, muscular body, the soft ripple of his abs that ended in the softest wisp of a happy trail.

Yeosang loved the feel of Hwa’s eyes on him as he undressed. The way he looked at him made him feel like the sexist thing on the planet. There was always a fire in them; an unsated thirst. He loved it, so he took his time as he slowly unfastened the button on his jeans and slid the zipper down. His eyes watched the flash of emotions that crossed Seonghwa’s face as he languidly slid his pants and underwear past his hips and thighs before letting them drop and stepping out of them.

He walked over to the tub and slid into the water, sitting himself on Seonghwa’s waiting lap, looping his arms around his boyfriend's broad shoulders. The water lapped lightly around their chests, filling the near silence of the room. Yeosang let his gaze meet Seonghwa’s with an unbroken intensity, not needing words to tell him how much he wanted him.

Seonghwa leaned forward letting his hands reach up from behind to hold Yeosang’s shoulders as he pressed a kiss to his chest. His lips brushed along the soft skin, feeling their way over the lean muscles of his pecs and up to his collarbone.

“It’s been too long,” Seonghwa whispered against him as Yeosang let his head fall back, allowing his lover more access.

“It’s only been a week,” Yeosang gave a breathy chuckle as he felt the other boy’s lips follow the line of his pulse up the side of his neck.

“That doesn’t count,” Seonghwa protested, one hand traveling up to tangle in the soft blond locks of Yeosang’s hair.

“Oh?” He asked breathlessly.

“Sneaking something in during the twenty minutes it takes for Hongjoong to go get something to eat from downstairs definitely doesn’t count,” Seonghwa clarified sternly, before nipping the soft skin just below Yeosang’s ear.

“I thought you liked the thrill of maybe getting caught,” Yeosang teased. “The possibility of someone seeing you fall apart with just my hand down your pants.”

“Maybe a little,” Seonghwa admitted, his lips quirking into a half smile. “But how could I have said no with all that teasing you were doing all day. Sitting in my lap and grinding your wonderful little ass on me every time you knew someone wouldn’t catch you. Ugh, tease.”

“Like you were any better,” Yeosang pointed out, his hands moving to splay over Seonghwa’s chest. “Slipping your hand in my pocket. You knew that hole was there before you did it, too.”

“That will teach you to put off fixing holes in your clothes,” Seonghwa laughed before bringing Yeosangs lips down to his. Their kiss began as a slow, sensual exploration of their mouths that slowly became more heated as Yeosang pressed Hwa’s head back. He raised himself slightly onto his knees until he loomed over him, leaving Seonghwa breathless and at his mercy.

Yeosang pulled back from the kiss and looked down at the wanton face of his boyfriend. He loved seeing him like this. His assertion that what they had gotten in last week ‘didn’t count’ was pretty fair he decided. A quick shared handjob they could sneak in with the risk of getting caught might be fun, but he loved to see the pleasure dazed face he could bring to him even before he really touched him. He loved taking his time with him, tasting the saltiness of his skin and the sweet flavor of his lips.

“Can I make love to you tonight?” Yeosang asked, kissing his way across Seonghwa’s beautifully high cheekbones.

“Make love to me now,” Seonghwa urged.

“Here?” Yeosang gave a low chuckle. “In someone else’s bathroom?”

“Turnabout is fair play,” He snorted, thinking of the first time he had met those three.

“Mmmm, true,” Yeo admitted, letting one hand sink down to brush the pad of his thumb over the tip of Hwa’s growing erection. “Switch places with me?”

“Sure,” Seonghwa nodded and twisted himself to allow Yeo to sit with his back against the edge of the tub and move him into his lap. Hwa felt his boyfriend’s erection brush against his inner thigh as they switched places, sending a shiver through him. He loved when Yeo was inside him as much as he loved the times the roles were reversed. When he was in his lap, he could look down at that beautifully sculpted face with it’s perfectly symmetrical features. He would never get tired of those warm eyes looking up at him.

Hwa brought his face down to Yeo as he felt the other boy's hands slowly make their way down along his back to the curve of his ass. His fingers brushed over the muscles there, enjoying their softness as he gave them a quick squeeze. With excruciating slowness, he moved the tip on one finger to brush over the pucker of muscle nestled between the soft cheeks.

Hwa let out a sigh and ground himself forward at the sensation of the tentative touch. He knew it wasn’t reluctance that slowed the touch of his lover, but the enjoyment he got from drawing out the moment; from the pleasure he caused with his teasing. When they had the time, there was nothing Yeosang loved more than bringing Hwa near to tears with his teasing before he would take him; waiting for that moment of desperation at his teasing before he would do as he asked. Seeing the hunger and desire twist his features into a mask of craving always gave Yeosang that pang of power and pleasure.

“Tell me how much you want me,” Yeo prompted, massaging Hwa’s entrance as he did.

“I need you in me tonight,” Hwa obliged, letting his desire be on full display as he spoke. “I need this moment this week. It’s been so hard and I just want a moment that is just you and just me.”

“I wish I could always take you into my arms like this,” Yeosang admitted as Hwa leaned in to brush his lips over his forehead. “I want to hold you as we go to sleep every night.”

“If only one of us didn’t have a roommate,” Hwa lamented with a sigh. Much as he loved Hong Joong as a friend, lately he had been wanting more space. He wanted privacy and the freedom to do what he wanted, when he wanted.

“Maybe next year we can get our own place, like this one,” Yeosang proposed as he finally pushed one finger inside.

“You want to live with me?” Hwa gave a shuddering sigh and let his head fall slightly back at the sensation.

“Yeah, I want to be with you more,” Yeosang conceded. “I’d love to be with you every night and make love to you in the morning.”

“That sounds like heaven,” Hwa smiled and pressed his lips to Yeosangs.

“Is that a yes,” Yeo questioned, broadening the circles he was making as he worked Hwa’s body open for his entry.

“Yes,” Seonghwa nodded, cupping Yeosangs cheeks in his wet hands and kissing him more deeply. Their tongues battled slowly as Yeosang worked another finger in, then scissored gently to make sure his lover's body was ready for him.

When Hwa whined with need, Yeosang finally sunk down slightly more in the water and positioned himself to enter Hwa. He let the other boy work himself down his length, going as fast or as slow as he wanted as he took him in. When he was finally all the way down, Hwa let out a breath he had been holding, relishing the sensation of Yeo so deep inside him.

“Fuck, you always feel so good around me,” Yeosang groaned, his hands coming to grip the other boy’s narrow hips.

“I love the way you fill me,” Hwa returned, gripping the sides of the tub for leverage as he prepared to move. He threw his head back and arched as he slowly began to move himself up and down. Yeosang could only admire the smooth, broad expanse of his lover's chest as he moved. In the candlelight he looked divine, droplets of water sparkling over his skin as they dripped down its smoothness.

“Have I told you today that you are beautiful?” Yeo breathed quietly.

“Next to you, I hardly compare,” Seonghwa leaned in to press his forehead to the other boys, slightly increasing his speed as he moved himself up and down his length. Yeosang’s hand went to encircle the turgid length of Hwa’s erection wanting to bring him as much pleasure as he could.

Hwa’s movements stuttered at the increased sensation, he shuddered and let out a little moan. “Do you think you’ll last longer than me if you do that,” He challenged, his eyes locking on Yeo’s hungrily as he continued to move.

“Yeah I think you’ll come first,” Yeo set his chin with an angle of defiance as he looked up a Hwa with hooded eyes.

“I guess we’ll have to see, won’t we,” Hwa breathed, moving faster and taking him as deeply as he could. The room was filled with the sound of their breathing and the sloshing of the water around them. It was a battle of wills between them and there would be no losers. They both threw themselves into the sensations of pleasure, both the giving and the taking. For the moment there was no one else, nothing else. They were the pleasure and the tension itself.

“I think you’re going to win,” Hwa shuddered, his knuckles going white with the strength of his grip on the curved edges of the tub.

“Then cum for me,” Yeosang demanded with a soft confidence as he expertly moved his hand over Hwa in the way he knew he loved. He watched Hwa’s face with rapt attention as his face and body contorted with the almost painful rise of pleasure he was riding. When his orgasm hit, he paused in his movements, half collapsing forward as his arms and legs quivered from pleasure and exertion. He let out a broken moan, his head lolling forward as he lost himself in the sensation and burst of peaceful satisfaction that filled him up as it passed.

“Can I…” Yeosang asked for permission to move. Seonghwa nodded and braced himself as he tried to catch his breath. Yeo gripped his hips harder and thrust himself up into Hwa as his muscles fluttered around him. He was close and it had been a near race to their finish. It only took a few minutes of his enthusiastic thrusts for him to find his own pleasure, emptying himself into Hwa’s body, loving the way it held him in its warm depths as waves of pleasure rode him.

Seonghwa pressed his lips to the corner of Yeosang’s mouth as he panted, lying limp in the bath beneath him. He looked so beautiful, damp and exhausted by pleasure.

“We definitely need a place with a bathtub.” Seonghwa said as he held Yeo’s face between his hands, his thumbs stroking his cheekbones, leaving droplets of water in their wake.

“Liked this that much, did you,” Yeosang let out a tired scoff and cracked one eye open.

“If I had known you looked this good wet,” Seonghwa joked. “I would have gotten you into a shower or tub months ago.”

“See, you promise that now,” Yeosang gave a dramatic sigh, mischief sparkling in his eyes. “But watch us move in together and have you get bored of me since you can have me anytime you want.”

“Please,” Seonghwa scoffed, and smacked Yeosang’s chest lightly. “As if I would be so fickle.”

“Promise?” Yeosang smiled up at him, pushing a lock of hair off the other boy’s forehead.

“Cross my heart,” he captured the hand as it was pulling away and pressed a kiss to the palm.

They stayed sitting in the cooling water for another couple of moments before Hwa felt strong enough, in both body and spirit, to lift himself off of Yeosang. They both shivered as they finally separated, Hwa giving an unsteady giggle at the sensation. He was able to get himself out of the water, pulling one of the towels off the rack and wrapping it around himself. Yeosang followed, taking the other towel before he pulled the plug on the drain, allowing the water to slowly be siphoned away.

“I think we were a little vigorous,” Seonghwa laughed, feeling the slight puddle on the tiles under their feet.

“Too much water,” Yeosang agreed, dropping the towel he had used on the floor to soak up the water now that he was mostly dry. Seonghwa pulled his pajamas on and hung up his towel to dry and Yeosang did the same when he was satisfied with his sopping up of their little puddle. They brushed their teeth and gathered their dirty clothes under their arms, ready to go to sleep.

They made their way out to the living room, after dropping their things in the room on the way, and bid everyone good night after getting glasses of water from the kitchen. Sex could be very thirsty work. Hand in hand, they padded back down the hall to the room they would occupy during their stay. Crawling in under the covers, Seonghwa curled around the body of the other boy, happily tucking himself along Yeosang from the back.

“Whose room is this, anyway?” Yeosang asked as he laced his fingers with Seonghwa’s where they held him around the waist.

“Mingi’s I think,” Seonghwa replied.

“How many nights do you think he has actually spent in here,” humor danced in Yeosang’s voice as he asked the question.

“Not many,” Seonghwa admitted with a laugh.

“Lucky guy, isn’t he?” Yeosang observed as he closed his eyes with a yawn.

“Not as lucky as me,” Seonghwa muttered as he buried his nose in Yeosang’s neck. Sleep claimed them quickly as the rest of the house also moved to settle in for the night. Outside snow continued to fall, but inside the house was warm and cozy with each room filled with love and contentment.

108 notes · View notes

lady-divine-writes · 5 years

Text

Jealousy

Aziraphale is used to people stopping by his shop to flirt with his (sleeping) husband, so he doesn’t let it bother him. But when the shoe is on the other foot, Crowley doesn’t take it as well. (2213 words)

A peculiar thing happens in Aziraphale's shop on August 13th at precisely two in the afternoon.

A man comes in looking for a book.

That’s not the peculiar part.

People attempt to buy books at Aziraphale’s shop all the time. They’re mostly unsuccessful, but the opportunity is theoretically there.

The peculiar part comes when this man - a statuesque, ruggedly-handsome man in a finely tailored, tan suit, aubergine shirt, and silk tie; a man who looked like he would be equally as comfortable touring the Savannah on holiday as he would be making corporate decisions in a board room – flirts with Aziraphale.

Aziraphale can be oblivious to those things, but the only people who seem to have eyes for him anyway are older women, mainly widows and divorcees, not searching for an exciting good-looker for their next relationship, but a reliable, stable, respectful man that they can talk to about books and music; who will take them to fancy restaurants on Friday nights and play Canasta with them on the weekends. A nice, non-threatening man who likes to garden and do crossword puzzles and cuddle, who won’t make too many demands on them physically. And even then, by the time Aziraphale figures them out, the women in question have already gotten bored and gone, leaving Aziraphale secretly grateful that he didn’t have to part with another one of his precious first editions.

Flirting happens to Crowley all the time. That Aziraphale notices. Women and men alike wander in off the streets to gawk at him. He’s a demon. He appeals to the baser instincts of mortals and that draws them to him. But he also happens to be stunning (in Aziraphale’s opinion, at least).

Aziraphale sees himself as having the appeal of an old couch – quaint and comfortable, familiar, convenient when you need a place to rest your bum but not the sort of thing you’d get excited over if the doorbell rang and you saw it sitting on your front stoop.

But the man who comes in, with his Rolex watch and his hundred dollar haircut, doesn’t so much as even make eye contact with Crowley.

He only has eyes for Aziraphale.

“Hello,” he says in a voice so smooth it slips through his lips and into Aziraphale’s ears without him needing to breathe too hard. “My name’s Ryan. I called earlier about purchasing a first edition of The Velveteen Rabbit? You said you had a copy?”

“Oh,” Aziraphale says with a startled gulp, but he doesn’t know why. He’s not sure why the tone of this man’s voice makes him swallow like that. Or why the way he looks at him makes the apples of his cheeks and the tips of his ears go pink. “Yes. Yes, I do. Excuse me for not fetching it prior to your arrival. I wasn’t sure you were serious about picking it up.”

“Yes, I am. It’s very important to me. I’ve been looking for one everywhere.”

“Then you’re in luck!” Aziraphale rises off his stool with a hop. “Because I do indeed have one.” He strolls through the rows of shelves, hunting down the copy Adam had so conveniently magicked up for him after the Apoca-no-go. He hums while he walks, suddenly in a chipper mood as he scans the spines in the children’s section.

As happens quite a bit when Aziraphale’s in the stacks, he gets the feeling that he’s not alone. And he’s not. There’s a general presence that seems to haunt his shop, one that he hasn’t sorted out yet. And, of course, there’s his husband, napping on a chair off to one corner that gets neither too much shade nor sun. Aziraphale peeks over his shoulder, curious if his husband may have woken up and decided to slither behind him, but it’s not him.

It’s Ryan.

And Aziraphale smiles bashfully to himself.

“You know, many people would simply download a book like this,” Aziraphale says when he finds what he’s searching for. “I’ve heard you can find it online for free.”

“True, but reading a book online doesn’t compare to holding it in your hands. And a first edition has probably been held by many people, read to many children, and just generally loved to pieces. Kind of like the velveteen rabbit. Wouldn’t you agree?”

From behind the stacks, Aziraphale sees Crowley peek out, glaring over the rims of his Valentino shades. The angel’s eyes brighten at the sight of him. He’s about to summon him over, but he blinks, and his husband disappears in the quarter-second it takes for his eyes to open again.

“Yes, I would definitely agree.”

“Of course, it may not necessarily be that way with every book. You have to make a connection with it.” Ryan takes the book from Aziraphale, two of his fingers brushing the back of Aziraphale’s hand when he does. “They’re kind of like people that way. After a while, you develop a relationship with it. It becomes important to you. And you never want to part with it.”

“Oh, that’s … that’s beautiful,” Aziraphale says. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard it described that way before, but it’s true. I feel that way about all my favorite books. I do hope your little one feels the same way about this one.”

“Oh, I’m not married.” Ryan flashes his vacant ring finger along with a brilliant smile. “Don’t have any children. I’m sorry to say that this book is simply a gift from me to my inner child. It’s the key to something I’ve been missing, something that I’m hoping to get back.”

“That’s charming. I hope whatever it is that you’ve lost, you find it again.”

“I do as well.”

They talk as Aziraphale rings him up – about books, about music, about the trinkets Aziraphale keeps around the shop and the history behind each one. They briefly talk about Ryan’s job as CFO of a brand new startup that’s skyrocketed within the past year, but they mostly talk about Aziraphale’s shop and his passion for the written word. No other customers come in, or if they do, Aziraphale doesn’t notice. He pulls Ryan up a chair and offers him a cup of tea, hoping Crowley will eventually join them, but he doesn’t go looking for him. Crowley seems to relish his eight hour naps in Aziraphale’s shop.

Far be it for Aziraphale to interrupt him.

As the day drips on, Aziraphale starts to notice the change in the quality of the light as shadows lengthen across the floor. He glances over at the clock on the wall to see if his suspicions are correct, and he gasps.

“Oh, my dear! It’s five o’clock! I didn’t notice the time! Oh, I do hope you aren’t late for anything!”

“Not at all. It was my day off. And I can’t imagine a lovelier way to have spent it than sitting here, talking to you.”

“That’s very kind of you to say.”

“I’m just curious,” Ryan says, gathering up his book in the brown paper bag Aziraphale supplies him, “what are your hours? I didn’t see them posted on the door. It would be nice to know, just in case my inner child convinces me to buy another book from my past.”

“This store is mainly a pet project of mine, so my hours are a little, shall we say, erratic ...”

“That’s adorable,” Ryan says.

“B-but …” Aziraphale stutters at the interruption “… I should be here tomorrow. Offhand I can’t think of any reason why I won’t be.”

“Excellent!” Ryan smiles, distinctly pleased as he squirrels his purchase behind him. “Then I’ll be back tomorrow. 2:30. Nice snake, by the way,” he says, pointing to a spot behind Aziraphale’s head. “Is it real?”

“Quite.” Aziraphale peeks over his shoulder, relieved to see that Crowley hadn’t slipped out of the bookshop and driven off without his noticing, but worried since he only transforms into a snake when he’s agitated.

And from the way he flicks his tongue, eyes wide, shifting uneasily in place, Aziraphale can tell he’s highly agitated.

That makes him dangerous.

“Constrictor?”

“Uh, no …” Aziraphale walks Ryan to the door, eager to close up shop and get things with his husband ironed out. “Red-bellied black snake.”

The smile on Ryan’s face drops straight to his knees. “Aren’t those venomous?”

“Only if they bite you. Thank you so much for stopping by. See you tomorrow. Mind how you go.” Aziraphale practically tosses the poor man out onto the sidewalk but he has no way of explaining to him that it’s for his own good. Aziraphale barely has the locks thrown when he feels the snake rise up behind him, transforming into the human form of his demon husband.

“Ssso, isss thisss going to be a thing now?”

Aziraphale sighs. He loves his husband. He truly does. But he can be so temperamental sometimes, even for a demon. “Why whatever do you mean?”

“Men dropping by your ssshop and making eyesss at you? Eating up all your time?”

“One man.” Aziraphale chuckles. “And my dear, people stop by every day simply to throw themselves at you. Do I bat an eye?”

“But I don’t care about them. None of them make my voice go all quivery like that man made yours.”

“I do admit that maybe I got a little carried away,” Aziraphale confesses, putting a hand to his flushed cheek. “See, I’m not use to getting that sort of attention. It was nice for the moment, but I don’t think it’s something I could handle every day.”

“Yeah? And why’s that?”

“Because I’m afraid I’m not very good around people. I prefer the company of my books and my music … and my ill-tempered husband.”

“But that’s the kind of bloke you fancy, right?” Crowley presses. “Someone who talks to you about books and music, and dresses in expensive clothes …”

“You dress in the most expensive clothes I’ve ever seen!” Aziraphale points out with an incredulous laugh.

“You know what I mean!” Crowley says, gesturing with a frustrated hand. “His clothes have … ffffwwwpppp … colors in them!”

“I see. Yes, I guess that does make a difference.”

“I knew it.”

“Ugh! Listen to me, you stupid old snake!” Aziraphale loops his arms around Crowley’s neck, forcing his eyes on him. “The bloke I fancy, as you so eloquently put it, is the one who’s known me my entire existence. Who drinks with me and goes out to lunch with me. Who fights beside me and stays with me, even when I call him ridiculous. Who comes back even when he threatens to run away.” Crowley’s eyes drop to his feet, unable to look at his angel while he’s being reminded of his less-than-stellar attempt to persuade Aziraphale to abandon Earth and join him out in the stars … which ended with his saying he’d go off on his own and never think about him again. “I don’t care if we don’t talk about books. It’s enough that you sit beside me while I read and hold my hand. That’s all I’ve ever wanted. Why in the world would you think I’d want someone else when I have the best possible person for me already?”

“’dunno.” Crowley shrugs. “All we do is hang out here lately. I think, maybe, I was afraid you might be getting bored with me. That tying yourself down to a domesssticated demon might not be what you signed up for.”

“Bored with you?” Aziraphale snorts. “After 6000 years, you think I’d get bored with you now? You seem to forget that during the decades we weren’t together, my time was spent here. You were the one jet-setting around the world. By rights, I think you should be getting bored with me. With my life.”

“Oh, no,” Crowley says, sliding closer. “You, my darling, could never get boring.”

Aziraphale raises a skeptical brow. “You forget, I’m much better at detecting sarcasm now than I was 6000 years ago.”

“That wasn’t sarcasm.” Crowley snakes his arms around his husband’s waist. “I can’t think of any place I’d rather be than here, wasting my days with you.”

“Thank you. I appreciate that. But maybe it is time we take a vacation.”

“Yesss,” Crowley hisses happily. “Go to all the old haunts, relive the glory days.”

Aziraphale rolls his eyes. “Otherwise known as last month.”

“You pick first. We’ll go anywhere you want to go. We can pack up my Bentley and leave tonight.”

“Well, tomorrow night.”

Crowley grimaces. “Why tomorrow night?”

“Ryan said he’d be back at 2:30 tomorrow and ...”

Crowley grabs Aziraphale’s collar and (carefully) pushes him up against the nearest wall. He presses him there with his body, tries his hardest to be intimidating, but it doesn’t dim Aziraphale’s grin a single degree.

It never does.

“Not … funny … angel.”

“No?” Aziraphale’s gaze drifts to his husband’s lips the way it always seems to when Crowley has him in this position.

“No,” Crowley says, accepting the invitation of those baby blues and kissing his angel softly. “Not one little bit.”

“You can tell me all about it when we hit the road,” Aziraphale says. “And we’d better make it quick. We’re burning daylight.”

***Notes: Let me guys know if you want to see a part 2 where Crowley actually meets our dear Mr. Ryan XD

#good omens #ineffable husbands #aziraphale x crowley #crowley x aziraphale #frankie writes

2K notes · View notes

clumsyclifford · 3 years

Note

hello!!! so i would be very interested in a fic based on all i want to hear you say by sea girls??? i know i’m promo ing them a lot but i think it could be a good fic concept??

you know what’s wild meg is i have had this prompt in my inbox for fully almost seven months and i was just reaching a point where i figured i would never write it. and then i did. so there’s your lesson in never deleting a prompt am i right

thank you @allsassnoclass for your invaluable feedback i love you

read it here on ao3

Calum only sees it because he has Luke’s Twitter notifications turned on, although if Michael asks, Calum doesn’t even know Luke’s on Twitter.

@LukeHemmings Tweeted:

missed u manchester!!

At which point he does the only logical thing: he excuses himself to the bathroom in the back and hyperventilates for about five minutes. And then he does a second, decidedly more idiotic thing.

“...Hello? Calum?”

“Hi, uh,” Calum clears his throat. “Hi. Luke.”

It is Luke on the other end. Somehow he hasn’t changed his number. Not that people typically change their numbers after only a year, but Luke is different. Luke is famous now. Not like Calum, whose band has been playing this bar since he was old enough to drink here. Since they were old enough.

Calum wonders what would have happened if Luke had never left. Maybe the band would have gone somewhere. Now he’ll never know.

“Calum,” Luke says. It might be wishful thinking, but Calum is pretty sure he sounds happy. “What’s up? Haven’t heard from you in a while.”

Yeah. Since Luke moved to London. Well. Since Luke got cast in a play in the West End and relocated in less than a week. Calum knows exactly when they last spoke was, and not only because there’s a time stamp on the text messages. Luke’s play — okay, the play Luke is starring in — had been a smashing success, and after he’d left Calum on read three times in a row, Calum had gotten the unsent message loud and clear.

He’d thought they were the kind of friends distance could never conquer, but apparently he’d been mistaken.

Now he’s not sure what to say.

“Yeah, sorry,” he manages, awkwardly chewing the inside of his cheek. “It’s, life got busy, you know, uh, you know how it is.” Duh. Of course he knows how it is. He’s fucking Luke Hemmings. If anyone’s going to understand life getting busy, it’s Luke. “I just, I saw you were in town.”

“Oh, yeah,” Luke says, laughing a bit. “I am, yeah. I should’ve called, my bad.”

“No, no,” Calum says quickly. “It’s — no worries.” Lucky I’ve got you on Twitter notifs, isn’t it, he doesn’t add. “How long are you here?”

“Just the weekend,” Luke says. “I go back on Monday.”

It’s out before Calum can stop himself: “D’you want to have lunch or dinner or something?” He swallows. “While you’re here?”

Someone knocks on the bathroom door. “Calum?” Michael. Fantastic. The last person Calum needs to hear from right now.

“Give me a minute!” Calum says, kicking the door. He winces. “Sorry. Mi— I’m, uh, possibly hiding in the bathroom. During my shift.”

Luke huffs a laugh. “I’d love to get lunch or dinner or whatever,” he says. It doesn’t even sound like he’s lying. Then again, this man is nominated for an Olivier. He could convince Calum he was interested in diving into an active volcano.

(He certainly managed to convince Calum that he was interested in him, so Calum should probably know better by now.)

“You could come to our show,” Calum says, because he’s petty. Or a fucking masochist. It’s possible to be both. “The band, I mean. We have a gig on Saturday night?”

“Oh!” Luke sounds surprised. Probably because he hadn’t anticipated the band staying together after he’d left. This isn’t fucking Take That, Calum thinks bitterly. Maybe being famous has gone to Luke’s head more than Calum had originally thought.

Except then Luke says, “Shit, I’d love to come to a gig. I’ve missed you lads. You want to get dinner before? After? What time is the gig?”

And Calum’s right back where he started: hopelessly infatuated.

“Gig’s at six, so yeah, dinner afterwards,” Calum says. He shifts nervously on his feet. “Don’t get excited. Our venue hasn’t changed.”

“Still the pub?” Luke sounds fond. “Aw, I miss that place, though. I’m looking forward to coming back.”

You don’t need an invite, Calum thinks. You can just show up.

That might not be true anymore, though.

“Sure you can handle it?” he says drily. “I mean, you’re not worried about crazed fans?”

Luke laughs awkwardly. “In a cheap bar in Western Manchester? Think I’ll be okay.” Calum’s trying to work out whether that’s a subtle dig when Luke adds, “Look, I’ve gotta run, actually, some — press things, but, uh, I’ll be there at six.”

“Great,” Calum says. “Fantastic. See you then.”

“See you then,” says Luke. He hangs up. Calum puts his phone in his pocket and stares judgmentally at himself in the mirror.

“Stop looking at me like that,” he mutters, rolling his eyes and turning away to return to his job.

—

The fucking A string is fucked up. Calum has been trying to tune his bass to no avail — no matter how much he turns the tuning peg, the tuner won’t declare it a clear A. “Michael,” he says sharply, “my bass won’t tune.”

Michael materialises, his guitar slung over his shoulder. “Because you’re turning the wrong fucking knob,” he says. Calum looks over at his fingers.

Oh.

“Oh,” Calum says embarrassedly. He moves his fingers and tunes the A string, then moves to the D string, which has gone completely flat thanks to Calum’s mistaken fiddling.

“You’re all nervous because Luke’s coming,” Michael says, shaking his head to let Calum know exactly how he feels about that. “Stop worrying about it. He didn’t give a shit about the band when he was in it, he definitely won’t give a shit now that he’s out, alright?”

“Not helping,” Calum says, glaring. “And that’s not fair to Luke and you know it. He cared about the band. What was he supposed to do, not accept a life-changing opportunity?”

Michael just rolls his eyes. They usually avoid discussing Luke. It always ends with Michael disparaging his name and Calum jumping to his defence, with Ashton stuck uncomfortably in the middle. Ashton had only been in the band about two weeks before Luke left — he’d never gotten the chance to know Luke. Calum also suspects Ashton just doesn’t want to get involved, because it had been clear to anyone in the room during rehearsals that Luke loved it. Calum doesn’t blame him for leaving.

Just because he misses Luke like a lost limb, doesn’t mean Calum holds it against him.

“Whatever,” Michael says. “Long as he doesn’t try to rejoin.”

They could use Luke in the band again, but Luke’s more likely to dive into that active volcano than ask to rejoin the band, especially if Michael’s got that look on his face. “Yeah, Mike, I promise I won’t let the Olivier-nominated Luke Hemmings rejoin our band if he asks,” Calum says flatly.

Michael makes a face. Calum makes one back.

“Boys,” Ashton interjects, sensing the tension lifting. “Less flirting, more setting up, please?”

Calum immediately throws an arm around Michael’s shoulders and grabs Michael’s head. Michael doesn’t protest when Calum smacks an exaggerated kiss to his cheek, because he’s amazing and the best friend ever. “But father, I love him.”

Michael clutches Calum melodramatically in return. “You can’t keep us apart, Ashton! You’ve been against intra-band love since the very first, but Calum’s the only man for me!”

And then he dissolves into giggles, taking Calum down with him.

“I can’t fucking stand the pair of you,” Ashton says, grinning wryly down at them.

“Someone’s jealous,” Calum snickers. “Mikey, I think Ashton wants in.”

“Hey, Luke’s here,” Ashton says. Both of them jerk upright like soldiers called to attention. “Sure, Luke can get you to behave and he’s not even in the band anymore, but when I ask it’s like talking to a wall? I see how it is.”

Michael kicks at his cajón. “Fuck off.”

Calum tries to turn subtly without looking like he’s turning. Sure enough, Luke is standing at the bar, chatting with Alex who’s behind it and preparing a drink. Probably a tequila soda. That had always been Luke’s order. He glances over at the stage and catches Calum’s eye.

Calum might as well be a year younger for how it still feels to meet Luke’s gaze.

This isn’t the Luke that left a year ago. Calum hadn’t expected that Luke. The news feeds have provided him with both mental and literal images of this new Luke, Luke Hemmings of the stage. Swanky clothes. Longer hair. Gone are the lip piercing, the ratty snapback that used to hide what Luke deemed “bad hair days” as if his hair ever looked different, the beaten trainers. If Luke looked worse, Calum would feel better.

But Luke doesn’t look worse. He just looks good in a different way. In fact, he looks better. More importantly, he looks far too expensive to be hanging around this sketty pub. Despite seeing photographs of him online nearly every day since his departure, Calum is taken aback by how much has changed in a year.

He’s not equipped. That much is clear. This had been a mistake. Calum’s going to open his mouth and instead of saying hello he’ll say I can’t believe you became more gorgeous and you’re back just to mock us and laugh at the band you used to front and make me feel like even more of an idiot for thinking you liked me.

“It’s six,” Michael informs Calum, tapping his shoulder. Calum whips around, startled. The neck of his bass almost knocks over the mic stand. Michael raises an eyebrow. “We can start playing, yeah?”

“I’m ready,” Calum says. Michael gives him a Look. “I am,” Calum repeats. “Are you?”

“Yes,” Michael says huffily. He steps up to the microphone and turns it on. Calum takes his spot at his mic and waits for Michael to introduce them — “We’re 5 Seconds of Summer, and we hope you like our set!” — before going straight into ‘Unpredictable.’

He tries not to watch Luke for the whole set, but he can’t really help it. Not only is Luke the most magnetic person in the bar no matter how much it fills up, he’s also sitting directly in Calum’s line of sight. Intentionally? By coincidence? Calum decides he doesn’t want to know. Because it’s probably the latter.

He does see someone approach Luke for an autograph and a photo at one point, though. Which is so weird that Calum forgets his next lyric and Michael shoots him another Look.

The audience grows slowly throughout their set; Calum recognises a lot of the regulars, smiles and waves to the ones who smile and wave first. Behind the bar, Alex air-guitars along to their cover of ‘What’s My Age Again,’ as usual. Before Calum knows it, they’re playing their last song.

There’s no pretending they wouldn’t be better with two guitarists instead of just one, but Calum has to admit: as three-piece bands go, they’re pretty fucking incredible. Even if they never make it big, Calum can rest easy knowing it’s because of bad luck, not lack of talent.

“Thank you so much,” Michael says into the microphone. “We’ve been 5 Seconds of Summer, check out our Facebook page for information on future gigs.”

“Thank you, everyone,” Calum contributes, then steps away to let the scattered applause wash over him.

Luke is clapping loudest of all. He would do that, as an alumnus of the band. If bands can have alumni.

When the attention of the room at large moves away from them, they set to taking apart and packing up their equipment. Calum is coiling up the cord for his bass when someone taps him on the shoulder.

“That was wicked,” says Luke. Like they’re not the first words he’s said to Calum’s face in a year. Calum stares at him. His face is glittering. Oh. That’s makeup. It’s shimmering on his eyelids when he blinks. Gold, sparkly. Pretty. Does Luke wear makeup now? Or is he only wearing it tonight because it’s a special occasion? Even though it’s really not a special occasion? It must be the former. Luke wears makeup now. He doesn’t post a lot on Instagram — yes, Calum has notifications on for him there, too — and when he does it’s usually show-related stuff, in show makeup. Point being Calum’s earlier theory is once again proving itself true: he is not equipped.

“Thanks,” he says after he’s made is sufficiently awkward with his fucking staring game. He smiles. “Could’ve probably used another guitarist, but we do alright, yeah?”

Luke ducks his head. Great, really well fucking done, Calum. Way to guilt him. “I’m teasing,” he hurriedly assures Luke. “Thanks for coming.”

“Do you need a hand?” Luke gestures at the mess of cords around Calum’s feet.

Calum opens his mouth, but Michael, unfortunately, beats him to it. “We’re okay,” he says, stepping forward. “Hi, Luke. Nice of you to make an appearance.”

“Michael,” Calum hisses.

Luke bites his lip. “Hey, Michael. It’s, uh. You guys sounded sick, I was telling Calum.”

Even Calum can hear the no thanks to you on the tip of Michael’s tongue. “Which I agreed with,” he says, looking at Michael like be fucking civil. “Because we did.”

“Yeah,” Michael scoffs. “Well, Cal, if you want to go on your date, Ash and I can handle the rest of the cleanup.”

Calum frowns and blushes at the same time, which feels funny. “I’m — I can —”

“Honestly, go,” Michael says, sighing. “If it’ll get Luke out of here, then go.”

“Jesus Christ, Michael,” Calum snaps. “Get your head out of your arse, would you? If you’re offended that Luke took an opportunity for success, then one of you is a dickhead and it’s not him.”

Michael’s face hardens. He snatches the half-coiled cord out of Calum’s hands. “Go,” he repeats. It’s not a request this time.

Calum grinds his teeth and turns to Luke, who’s frozen in place with a pained expression.

“Ignore him,” he says tightly. “He’s been a dick about the whole thing. Let’s just go.”

Luke hesitantly follows after Calum. “I didn’t realise —”

“Great set!” Alex calls, wiping down the bar. Calum manages a smile just for him.

“Thanks,” he says, then glances over at Luke. “Yeah. I reckon I should have warned you.”

“I meant it that I’ve missed you lot,” Luke says mournfully. “I mean, I knew he wasn’t pleased, but…I sort of hoped he’d have gotten over it? Not that— I know I left, so I did ask for it —”

“Luke, come on. Don’t be thick.” Calum scoffs as they leave the bar. “It’s a Michael problem. He just thinks it’s an Olympic sport to hold the longest grudge or something. I love him, but he’s a fucking arsehole when he wants to be.”

“I — I know, but…” Luke sighs. “Yeah. I guess.”

The evening air is cool. Around them, shops and street lamps flood the road with illumination. The gold on Luke’s face catches the light like it’s being paid to do it. Calum only glances briefly at him before looking back at the pavement ahead and asking, “So…what do you fancy for dinner?”

“I seem to recall a Maccies this way,” Luke says. “I know it’s not the most elegant of places, but…”

“Say no more,” Calum says. “You never need to convince me to get Maccies.”

—

They sit across from each other, quiet for a few minutes as they both devour their burgers. Luke’s nails are painted with clear gloss. Calum isn’t sure if it’s the theatre effect or just the London effect that’s given him this extra glamour. Or the fame thing. Which is still decidedly strange. And also reminds Calum:

“Congrats, by the way.”

Luke looks up, confused. “Huh?”

“On the Olivier nomination,” Calum says. Luke smiles. “That’s a big deal.”

“It’s, uh, yeah. A bit.” He laughs. “Okay, a lot. It’s mad. Thank you.”

“You deserve it,” Calum says. “The play’s —” No. Nope. That’s not something he wants to admit to. “I’ve heard it’s good,” he amends quickly, but it’s too late. Luke, who is the definition of selectively perceptive, squints.

“Have you seen it?”

Calum presses his lips together. His silence could probably speak for itself, but whatever. “I saw it last month,” he confesses. “My mum got us tickets, me and her and Mali.”

Luke stares. “And you didn’t think to tell this to me? Or ring me while you were in London?”

“You didn’t ring me when you came here,” Calum retorts.

Luke bites his lip. “Touché. But why didn’t you say hello?”

Calum huffs a laugh. “You ignored my last three texts, Luke. I know how to take a hint.”

At this, Luke smacks his palm to his forehead. “Fuck. Shit. Fuck. I never replied to you. I’m so sorry. I kept reading them at the worst times and then forgetting to respond. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine.”

“I’m really sorry,” Luke repeats. “I didn’t mean to fall out of touch, honest. I just…”

“Got busy,” Calum finishes. “I know. You don’t have to tell me. And look, not for nothing, the play’s bloody brilliant. So your hard work hasn’t been in vain.”

“God, I’m a fucking idiot,” Luke says, like he hasn’t heard Calum speak. “Just the other day I was thinking of you. Wondering why you never reached out. I figured you were upset at me for leaving. Like Michael.”

“What? And you didn’t think to shoot me a text, maybe?”

“I thought you were cross! I didn’t think you would want to hear from me!”

“Luke —” Calum breaks off and shakes his head. “Can’t believe I thought you were any different when you’re actually the same fucking moron who left here.”

“Hey,” Luke halfheartedly protests. “Fucking moron who’s nominated for an Olivier.”

“Oh, excuse me,” Calum says, rolling his eyes and grinning. Luke laughs almost to himself. “Look, it’s okay. We’re good now, yeah?”

Luke nods. “Promise to text you back from now on. And if I don’t, it’s not because I don’t want to hear from you. Just keep texting me. I’ll — I’m —”

“Don’t tell me you’re busy,” Calum says. “I know you are. I read the articles. How you find the time to do interviews and also a show eight times a week is beyond me.”

Luke quirks his lips. “You read those?”

“Of course I do,” Calum says. At first it was just to see if you’d say anything about me, he does not say. “Number one Hemmo fan.”

Luke laughs. “You didn’t even wait at the stage door to say hello. You’re nowhere near the number one fan.”

Calum scoffs in mock offence. “Yeah? Do your other fans know your drink order? Do they know who your first concert was? Do they have your phone number?”

“That’s not being a fan, you idiot, that’s being my friend,” Luke says, laughing.

Calum waves him off. “Same thing.”

“So what have you been doing?” Luke prompts once he’s polished off his burger. The napkin crinkles in his hands when he wipes his fingers, an action which becomes entirely pointless as he munches on the oily chips that had come with his meal.

“I still work at the bar,” Calum says. “Mike and I both. My, uh, my life is basically the same, honestly. Except we get paid slightly more to play now.”

“You should be playing the O2,” Luke says. “You’re really good.”

“Yeah, well.” Calum shrugs. “Can’t all have our dreams come true.”

Remorse crawls over Luke’s face. Shit. Calum isn’t doing it on purpose. It’s just that sitting here, eating greasy fast food, it’s so easy to forget that they live in different worlds now. Passerbys peering through a window at them could surely tell, though. Calum’s Rolling Stones shirt and black snapback are no match for Luke’s carefully styled curls and leather jacket. It’s not a ratty leather jacket, either, but one of the really nice ones. Probably Gucci or something equally outrageous.

It doesn’t mean Calum’s any less smitten. Just that the crater between them might be too vast to cross, and Calum keeps forgetting there’s a crater at all until he nearly trips over the edge. Moments like now, where the look on Luke’s face is that of a kicked puppy.

“Calum,” he starts, but Calum shakes his head.

“Never mind, sorry,” he says. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“You did a bit, though,” Luke says. “Right? You wouldn’t have said it if you didn’t mean it a bit.”

“I’m not guilting you for doing what you love, Luke,” Calum says firmly. “I’m not. Anyway, I’m doing fine. Better, even. Don’t get a guilt complex, please. I’m happy for you, I’m happy myself, everything is fine.”

Luke grimaces and stuffs several chips in his mouth. Calum chomps down on one of his own. It’s a bit soggy but at least sufficiently salted. Not the best chips he’s had, though far from the worst.

“We left things a bit weird, though, didn’t we,” Luke says, staring determinedly at the table.

Calum nearly chokes on his chips.

A bit weird is probably the right way to put it. Calum’s been rejected in some pretty harsh ways, but having the boy in question pack up and move to a whole new city had been a first for him. If it had been a clear-cut rejection then maybe Calum could have handled it. It was the uncertainty that had done him in. Maybe that’s why he never made a real effort to stay in touch.

It’s one thing when your friend won’t answer your texts. It’s another when you really thought that friend had been into you, only for him to turn around and announce that instead of going out with you he’d be moving to London.

“I don’t mind if we just move past that,” Calum says now, hoping in vain that his voice won’t betray how much he has not moved past it. He’s an adult. He can be friends with someone he also fancies an embarrassing amount. He hadn’t intended to mention the whole will-we-won’t-we thing they’d done just before Luke had left. There’s not a lot to say about it.

“Do you mind if we don’t move past it? Yet?” Luke says nervously. “Can I say something and then we can move past it if you still want to?”

Calum swallows. What the fuck could Luke possibly have to say about it, other than to maybe apologise for leading Calum on the way he did? “Uh, I suppose?”

Luke clears his throat. “Okay. Well, um, I just wanted to say that…I think when I left, that you maybe got the impression I was turning you down. And. I wasn’t. At all. I didn’t want to leave you, it was just what made the most sense, being in the play and everything. Um, and I didn’t really say anything because it wouldn’t have been fair of me to tell you I liked you when I was also moving four hours away — like, I didn’t want to do that to you.” He laces his fingers together on the table. “But you, um, seemed. Hurt. And I didn’t know how to tell you before, so I’m telling you now, it wasn’t because I didn’t like you. I did. I do.”

Calum must forget to breathe, because it’s dead silent around them. Luke finally looks up and winces. “Also, this isn’t a guilt trip, so like— if you have a boyfriend now, that’s— sorry, I guess I should have checked?”

“I don’t have a boyfriend,” Calum says. “The bloke I was hoping would be my boyfriend decided to move to London and become a star, and I haven’t exactly gotten over him yet.”

A small, tentative smile pulls at Luke’s lips. “Really?”

“You sure took your time clearing that up,” Calum says. His heart is beating unreasonably fast, but he thinks it’s probably excused on the basis that the boy he’s fancied for two years and who would’ve broken Calum’s heart had Calum gotten the chance to share it with him is now returning his feelings. Exhilaration flutters around his chest, and he smiles. “But yeah, really.”

Luke’s face breaks into a genuine smile. He pushes a strand of hair behind his ear. “Oh, thank God. I thought after this long—”

“Underestimating just how much I like you, obviously,” Calum says. Luke brightens like a fucking spotlight. “Though it’s been the same amount of time for you, so if I have problems, then so have you.”

“Who’s got problems?” Luke says. “This is the opposite of a problem. I’m thrilled.”

“You do still live in London,” Calum points out, because again: masochist.

A shadow crosses Luke’s face, but it quickly disappears. “That’s— it’s only four hours.”

“Only.”

“Okay, it’s—” Luke squeezes his eyes shut. “I don’t— shit. Look. I know it’s not practical, okay? But can we just pretend it is? So this isn’t a complete loss? I’m here until Monday morning.”

“One whole day,” Calum says. “Lucky us.”

“Yes,” Luke says decisively. “Be my boyfriend for a day, Cal. We’ll figure it out from there.”

Every objection Calum has flies from his mind at Luke saying be my boyfriend. Struggling to maintain his composure, he hedges, “Really? You want to have a boyfriend who lives in Manchester and works in a bar and doesn’t even know how to identify what makeup you’re wearing? Which looks fantastic, by the way? And did I mention the whole living-in-Manchester thing? You know, four hours from London?”

Luke fixes him with a look. “Yeah, I want you to be my boyfriend, Calum. And all of the things that includes. It’s worth it to me.”

And. Well. Shit. “It’s worth it to me, too,” Calum admits.

Maybe if he’d said that a year ago, Luke would have listened. Maybe they’d have gotten here much sooner. But at least they’re here at all.

Luke reaches across the table and his lips quirk up. “That’s all I want to hear you say.”

For a moment, Calum imagines that life is easy. Luke could always leave the show. Move back to Manchester. Spend late nights and early mornings in Calum’s flat (having made up with Michael, who splits Calum’s rent and living space). Do his makeup in their bathroom mirror and explain it all to Calum as he goes. Rejoin the band despite Michael’s initial stubborn grudge, and finally reclaim his role as lead singer, finally doing justice to melodies Calum and Michael could never quite sing the same way. If Luke had never been cast, Calum wonders if that’s how their lives would be.

But it’s not how their lives are, and Calum doesn’t want that anyway. Luke is doing what he’s born to do, and Calum would never forgive himself to pull him away from that. He doesn’t want it to be easy. The fact that Luke knows it won’t be easy and is willing to take it on anyway means far more, to Calum.

They can figure it out.

He laces his fingers with Luke’s and squeezes once, smiling when Luke smiles. So much is different, but fuck if that’s not the same beaming, blushing smile that’s always been just a little too big for Luke’s face. There’s hope for them yet. Calum can feel it.

#calum hood #luke hemmings #cake #cake fic #5sos #5sos fic #fic #my fic #meg i compromised with this fic #so the calum is my type but the luke is your type #i hope that's a fair trade to you #i would also like to apologize for the fact that this fic specifically takes place in manchester #(where i have never been)#and makes many references to london (where i have also never been. and you live.)#hope i didnt get anything horrifically wrong !#kept it as vague as possible but knowing me........#anyway love you thanks for giving me this prompt in AUGUST #i was literally just listening to my liked songs on shuffle tonight #(crying a little. because the scientist played and whos gonna NOT cry at the scientist)#and this song came on #and i was like hey. actually i CAN see this as a fic #i've had the doc probably since the day you sent this ask but never knew how to write it #so! glad i finally tackled it #kaleidoscopeminds #ask #answered

13 notes · View notes

raleighcarrera · 3 years

Text

holiday writing requests

wow feels weird to use the post title feature sdkjfdglfkgjfkjg

ANYWAY i’m opening up winter/holiday themed writing requests for choices & twc !! my goal is to do as many of these as i can before the end of the year but i’m going to try to space them out so please be patient and i’m sorry if i don’t get to yours or if it takes awhile

and thank you all for making my time here so far in 2020 so much fun and for being so nice to me since i made this blog in may ❤️

if you have a specific scenario or request in mind, just send me an ask, but otherwise a list of assorted prompts i’m accepting is under the cut !!

from here - winter/cold weather prompts:

1. first snowfall 2. hot chocolate 3. ice skating 4. blankets 5. fireplace 6. fuzzy socks 7. scarf 8. snowball 9. sweater 10. snuggling 11. snowed - in 12. mistletoe 13. candles 14. winter sunrise 15. eggnog

from here - winter/holiday writing prompts:

1. mistletoe kissing booth 2. makeout sesh in front of the fire, but someone is being a tad too respectful 3. snowball fight turns flirting, turns serious, then flirty again 4. snowed in and huddling for warmth 5. home for the holidays, but my parents won’t let us share a room so we sneak out to see each other

from here - winter/holiday sentence starters:

1. “it’s cold out here, can i borrow your jacket?” 2. “warm my hands up?” 3. “look! it’s snowing!” 4. “the car won’t start...” 5. “it’s supposed to snow tonight, you should just stay here...” 6. “i haven’t felt warmth in approximately twenty-three days.” 7. “that blanket looks big enough for two!” 8. “you’re cute when you’re cold.” 9. “it smells like i just walked into cinnamon hell.” 10. “can’t we stay in bed? it’s cold outside...” 11. “you’re not getting sick again, are you?” 12. “i’ll take care of you.” 13. “don’t slip!” 14. “i may or may not have gotten tangled up in the tinsel.” 15. “so... the tree is too big to fit through the door.” 16. “last minute gift shopping is an art, and you’re not ready for it.” 17. “all i want for christmas is you.” 18. “can i open just one? pleasseeee?” 19. “don’t be such a downer, mr scrooge.” 20. “i have michael bublé’s entire discography and an unopened bottle of wine.” 21. “i couldn’t find any gelt, but we do have raisins!” 22. “please don’t burn the house down.” 23. “normal people don’t own this many candles.” 24. “that’s the ugliest sweater i’ve ever seen.”

from here - winter/holiday prompts

1. “it’s almost midnight!” 2. “yeah, uh, alcohol doesn’t go in hot chocolate.” 3. “why does the house smell like a cinnamon roll threw up?” 4. “if you throw a snowball at my face so help me.” 5. “open your present!” 6. “wanna get shit faced instead?” 7. “why is there mistletoe everywhere?” 8. “i’m still sad you won’t be home for christmas.” 9. “aren’t you afraid of setting the house on fire with all the lights?” 10. “i hope you break your ass on that ice.” 11. “wait, no one got you anything?” 12. “so... we’re kind of snowed in.” 13. “it looks like the north pole threw up.” 14. “are you sure it’s illegal to kill carolers?” 15. “you didn’t think i’d let you spend christmas alone, did you?” 16. “i told you you were going to get sick if you stayed in the snow all day.” 17. “does that stocking have my name on it?” 18. “and now the power’s out.” 19. “you’ve never had a new year’s kiss?” 20. “you’re kind of cute when you look like rudolph.”-“the reindeer?”-“no, my dentist. yes, the reindeer.”

from here - december fanfic prompts

1. a snowball fight 2. overly bundled up for the weather 3, decorating the tree 4. ruining the holiday dinner 5. secret santa gift exchange 6. unwrapping presents 7. making cookies 8. new holiday traditions 9. work holiday party 10. eating candy canes 11. traveling for the holiday 12. a holiday proposal 13. drunk at new year’s party 14. a new year’s kiss

from here - christmas/winter starters

“sorry, it’s not me, it’s the eggnog.” “just so you know, i’m kind of stuck in the christmas lights.” “looks like you’re getting coal this year.” “i just took an online quiz and it said i was on the naughty list! if it was you i could see it, but not me!” “are you seriously crying over rudolph...?” “i just called to tell you merry christmas.” “please stop singing christmas songs.” “if you ring those dumb jingle bells one more time, i will wring your neck.” “oh my god, is that mistletoe...?” “what kind of christmas would it be if we didn’t play in the snow?”

from here - holiday au prompts

1. we don’t like each other, but we’re at a mutual friend’s christmas party and we keep getting caught under the mistletoe together 2. we both work at the mall’s pictures with santa event. you shouldn’t be able to look that attractive in an elf’s costume and we should not be hooking up in santa’s cottage on our break 3. why can’t you turn your christmas lights off at a reasonable hour? they’re way too bright and some of us are trying to sleep. if you won’t turn them off, i’ll turn them off myself 4. my parents keep pestering me about a boy/girlfriend, so i lied and now i need you to be my fake boy/girlfriend for the holidays 5. if you sing one more christmas song, I’m breaking the radio and kicking you out of the car. i don’t care how cute you are, i can’t take one more rendition of santa baby or all i want for christmas is you 6. you didn’t have anywhere to go for the holidays, so i invited you to come home with me as friends but my parents now think we’re dating

from here - more christmas aus

1. “i know we hate each other but it’s christmas eve and your flight was cancelled, please come inside.” 2. “i got you for secret santa so i got you this really expensive but sentimental gift that you’ve always wanted, hoping you’ll never find out it’s from me - and that i’ve been in love with you 1234567 years.” 3. person a seducing person b into taking a few steps back/backing them against the wall (”oh look, how did that mistletoe get right there?”) 4. i knitted you a jumper/mittens/scarf 5. “we were playing in the snow and you suddenly tackled me to the ground and now... we’re just... staring... at each other...” 6. "our christmas party turned into a tropical theme because the radiator is broken and it’s hotter than hell in here - damn you look good without a shirt, i never noticed before asgdhfjgkhl” 7. “we’re co workers who hate each other but you had too much to drink at the staff christmas party and admitted your love for me i don’t know how to act around you now.” 8. TEACH ME HOW TO SKI (lol jk i know how you’re just so fucking cute) 9. PULLING YOU IN FOR A KISS WITH A SCARF 10. “i did that annoying thing where i put loads of smaller boxes inside one big box and you’re getting really mad but you don’t know that the ring is in the smallest box and i can’t wait to see your face”

from here - christmas/holiday starters

1. “woah, someone drank too much egg nog.” 2. “i can’t believe i’m all alone during the holidays.” 3. “i hate snow. and smiling children.” 4. “if i hear one more christmas song, someone is getting strangled with tinsel.” 5. “the limit was $20, people. why do I see an iPhone?” 6. “i know who got me this. there’s only one person who knows me this well. it’s you.” 7. “this is really corny... but you’re already a gift to me.” 8. “have i been naughty this year?” 9. “oh, i’d ride in your sleigh.” 10. “your eyes twinkle like tree lights.” 11. “great, now my flight is delayed…” 12. “how am i supposed to get home in this weather?” 13. "do these dreidel cake pops look pinterest-y enough?” 14. “it’s not a ‘made-up’ holiday. all holidays are made up.”

from here - new year’s starters

1. “will you kiss me at midnight?” 2. “here's hoping the new year is better than the last.” 3. “this is the perfect way to ring in the new year.” 4. “i don't feel well...” 5. “did you just kiss me?” 6. “the stars are prettier than the fireworks.” 7. “let's ring in the new year right.” 8. “are you drunk?” 9. “can we go home?” 10. “hold my hand.” 11. “i think i drank too much.” 12. “let's get a cab.” 13. “you look silly.”

from here - cold weather starters

1. “it’s hand holding season.” 2. “i got the biggest blanket for us to share.” 3. “your cheeks are so red; it’s so cute!” 4. “this scarf isn’t big enough for two people.” 5. “maybe if i kiss you, you’ll feel warmer.” 6. “hug me; i’m cold and love you.” 7. “are you cold? let’s cuddle, it’ll make you warmer.” 8. “what time is it? don’t answer, it’s christmas.” 9. “if it snows, wake me up.” 10. “christmas songs this early?” 11. “please stay warm; i don’t want you to get sick.” 12. “i refuse to let you go – i’m cold.” 13. “it’s icy outside – also, can you help me limp to the couch?” 14. “i don’t need mistletoe to kiss you.” 15. “i’m glad I get to spend this season with you.” 16. “are you shivering?” 17. “i ran you a bath since it’s freezing outside.” 18. “stay in bed with me, it’s warmer here.” 19. “i don’t understand how you love this kind of weather so much.” 20. “are you blushing or cold?” 21. “oh, darn, i seem to have forgotten my mittens – please warm my hands?” 22. “i don’t think cold weather is an excuse to drink ten times more coffee.” 23. “well, you can never have too much hot chocolate.” 24. “i’m gonna stay up and wait for it to snow.” 25. “being with you makes the season even better.” 26. “since it’s cold should i start calling you ‘snow angel’?” 27. “are you going to share this coat with me all night?”

#writing prompts tag #anyway just send me a pairing and the prompt you want and happy holidays you guys 💕#love u #also if anyone wants to take any of these prompts i don't own them so feel free !! just link back to the original posts and give credit ok

15 notes · View notes

harvestmoonconfessionsv2 · 4 years

Photo

Full Confession:

So I can’t say I am a og fan, my first game I bought was when I was 9 and it was Harvest Moon DS Cute, I bought it the year it came out so 2010. I remember walking around a K-mart looking for my mom that I had lost in the toy section and how I wondered around the “50% off!” Ds section, I remember seeing Clair with her pitch fork and the cows and chickens behind her and the blue clouds over the case. My grubby kid hands pushing piles of trash old ds games out of the way so I could reach with my little arms all the way back to reach the box,then running around to find my mom an beg her to buy if for me for the used ds she had scraped to buy for me the year before.

When I was a kid I had a really bad home life, Harvest moon became a addiction for me because I dreamed of living my life as a farmer in the real world, up until 2016 I bought and played as meany HM games as I could.

Ds Cute ,DS,Tree of Tranquillity,AP,Magic Melody,Wonderful life,Tale of Two Towns,a new beginning,grand brazar,Sunshine island,island of happiness,Another wonderful life.

I even bought 100-300 page cheat books for some games😂.

The games made me feel good, it detached me from my life and gave me something to work to. In 2016 my mom passed away and I was put in foster care, only the shirt on my back. I never got to take anything from home, not even my games. I have no idea where they ended up.

Some times, as crazy as it sounds, I sit up for a moment thinking,where did all of them end up? Did they sell them off? Did they throw them out? Is someone playing my saves or did they just delete them? But most of all I just crazily wonder, do all the characters miss me as much as I miss them? It’s stupid but it makes me sad at night.

I am now a adult. My heart still hurts because I left behind the world of HM, I had no money to duy games or gaming systems to play them on. Now I am.

So much has changed since I have been gone and I can’t tell if it’s for the good.

All I know is that it took me days to find a 20$ DS Cute copy, that is coming in this week. I am scared to play a bit, I’m going to cry once i get it I just know it. I can’t believe how expensive everything has gotten, and I am deeply saddened because I feel like I won’t be able to even affor two or three more games because of how much they are going for online.

I spent hours of my childhood playing these games.

I have decided to take a me day when the game comes in, dim the lights and throw a blanket on with some coffe or tea, and flip open my DS and start a new adventure almost a decade later.

#ds cute #hm ds cute #Harvest Moon

57 notes · View notes

lyssismagical · 4 years

Text

sweetheart, you look a little tired

Febufluff Day 19, 20, 21, & 22 – Safe and Sound, Butterflies, First Kiss, & Love at First Sight

Read on AO3

Peter’s eyes are drifting shut, swaying on his own two feet behind the cash register. He’s already been benched from actually making anything, so he’s stuck on taking orders.

“Parker!” one of his coworker’s shout from somewhere behind him. He jerks awake, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he yawns.

“Sorry, man. I’m awake, I’m good,” Peter says quickly, turning his attention to the next customer in line and taking their order. Thankfully, it’s a slow day at the café so he doesn’t feel as bad for not being a model employee.

As soon as the customer is through, another coworker of his, Betty, touches his shoulder and pushes a drink into his hand.

“Who’s this for?” Peter asks, looking over the cup for any name.

“For you, dumbass. A few extra shots of espresso to get you through the shift. On the house.”

Peter stares dumbly down at the coffee for a good few moments, not understanding, before he offers Betty a tired smile. “Thanks.”

She shrugs, turning back to her job. “Finish your shift and get some real sleep before your next one, alright?”

Nodding, Peter turns back to the cash register, sipping at his coffee. He’s never really liked coffee, especially now that all it does is remind him of the people he’s lost. His parents used to drink coffee practically religiously, and he remembers Sunday mornings would always smell like coffee and pancakes with his aunt and uncle. But he supposes now he doesn’t really have a choice but to get over it if he’s going to keep his head on his shoulders.

He’s currently working two part-time jobs. One at the coffee shop he’s at now, and another at a nearby restaurant where he’s a waiter. He also picks up odd jobs as often as he can, the extra cash helping to keep their heads above water.

The amount of work he does is already a lot, he barely has any downtime. Especially since he’s a single dad. His daughter is his pride and joy, the light of his life, but it’s tough, he can’t lie.

She’s three, and she’s everything, but between his two jobs and the odd jobs he has to pick up and singlehandedly taking care of a toddler? It’s taking its toll on his health.

He wouldn’t trade it for the world though. He loves her with everything he’s got, even if it means working eighteen-hour days or if it means staying up all night at her bedside when she swears there’s a monster under her bed.

“Excuse me?”

Peter jerks, eyes flying open as a flush immediately fills his cheeks. He quickly takes a gulp of his coffee and turns to the customer.

“I am so sorry, sir. I didn’t mean to, uh… What can I get for you?”

Peter tries his best for a smile as he looks up at the man, and holy fucking shit.

Harley Keener is leaning against the counter nonchalantly, a charming smile adorning his face. He’s holding his wallet, which is surprisingly old and worn, and is looking at Peter with raised eyebrows.

“Your number?” Harley says, smiling a little brighter and dimples show in his tan skin.

Peter, visibly flustered, fumbles for his own coffee cup anxiously, nearly knocking it over. “I, uh, I’m-”

“Kidding, darling, unless you want to.” Harley winks obnoxiously, licking his bottom lip. “I could actually go for a large black coffee. Thanks, love.”

Knowing he must look as red as a tomato, Peter rings up the price. “That’s, uh, three dollars.”

He pops open his wallet and pulls out a bill. “Keep the change, darling.”

And then there’s a one-hundred-dollar bill in Peter’s hand.

“I can’t- I can’t take this. It’s a three-dollar coffee.”

Harley’s smile falls a little bit, and he looks at Peter with confusion sparkling in his brown eyes. “You know who I am, right?”

Nodding, Peter tries to hand back the money. “Yeah, I don’t know anybody who doesn’t know you.”

“So, you have to realize I don’t need the money. I always give generous tips.”

“Generous is like twenty percent, not three thousand percent,” Peter says. He doesn’t mean to be angry, but it feels like a dig at Peter, not as a kind gesture. It makes Peter feel like he’s not working hard enough, like he’s failing his daughter if he needs to get charity from a rich man who throws around his money.

Harley shrugs and doesn’t take back the money. “Split it with your coworkers. I don’t want to carry around change.”

Peter tries his best to look polite despite being exhausted and upset and wanting nothing more than to pick up his daughter from kindergarten and take her home for a movie night.

“Large black coffee,” Peter tells Betty over his shoulder. “Is that all?”

“Yep, that would be wonderful, darling.”

As much as Peter wishes he was angry at the pet names, he can’t be. Harley Keener, son of Tony Stark, one of the most famous billionaires ever, is really hot. Tan with a mess of purposefully wild light brown curls and a wonderful smile that makes little dimples in his cheeks, and the prettiest brown eyes he’s ever seen.

Betty passes Harley the coffee over the counter with a knowing smile.

Harley sees it at the same time Peter does.

He’s too much of a coward so here’s his number.

“You’ve got a nice wingman back there,” Harley says, grinning at Peter. “I’ll call you, beautiful.”

“Yeah, whatever.” Peter doesn’t bother telling him he hasn’t had the money to pay his phone bill in a little over six months.

* “Daddy!” His daughter exclaims, racing across the schoolyard to him. As soon as she reaches him, he scoops her up into his arms, pressing a long kiss to her forehead.

“Hi, baby, I missed you loads,” Peter says, smiling at her. He ignores the tiredness that hangs from his very bones and his aching joints and focuses on the unfiltered joy in his daughter’s eyes.

June Parker was born when Peter was only eighteen. He wasn’t ready to have a child, but MJ and he decided that they could do anything so long as they had each other.

And then there were complications with the birth.

Peter doesn’t remember much from that night, one of the longest nights of his life, all he remembered is the doctors refusing to give him the baby when he was allowed into the nursery. He remembers the worry that almost had his knees giving out. They sat him down in one of the chairs and broke the news. And he sat there, and he cried until he thought his chest would cave.

And then they were tucking his baby into his arms.

“I missed you more!” she exclaims before launching into a detailed explanation of her school day.

He walks them home, a good seven blocks away from the elementary school, but it’s not like he has the spare cash to pay for a car, insurance and gas.

Eventually, they do make it home to their little apartment building, and Peter’s never been happier to peel off his sneakers and fall onto the couch, June immediately curling up against his chest.

“Do you work tonigh’?” June asks, a pout tugging at her mouth.

“Nope, got the night off, honey.” Peter doesn’t tell her that it’s because he looked dead on his feet last night and was forced to take a sick day to get some real sleep. Instead, he grins down at her, and lifts his eyebrows. “You know what that means?”

“Movie night!” she squeals, sliding off the couch and racing for the kitchen and their poorly stocked cupboards.

Peter laughs and drags himself to his feet. “Dinner first, June.”

He scoops her back up, sitting her down on the counter. “What do you want to eat?”

She pretends to think really hard for a few seconds like she hasn’t already made up her mind. “Mac and cheese!”

Shaking his head in amusement, he presses a kiss to her forehead. “Mac and cheese, it is then, baby.”

* He doesn’t sleep well again, instead making some decent money by reviewing and editing essays online and making sure June sleeps soundly despite the noise of the city, louder than ever.

And then he’s up early as ever to walk June to school and then head to the café for his shift.

“Wow, you look like you were hit by a bus,” Betty says. Not in a mean way, she’s one of the only friends he’s got. “You weren’t working last night, were you?”

“Not at the restaurant,” he says. He doesn’t need to say that he was working anyways. He doesn’t like sleeping anyway.

As soon as he takes up his position at the cash register, Harley Keener walks in.

He’s dressed immaculately as always, but there’s a frown on his face as he walks in.

“Black coffee again?” Peter says when he reaches the counter.

Harley falters for a second, eyes losing the spark of anger before it comes back with intensity. “I texted you last night. Like six times. And I called you too. Tony thought I was losing my mind over a guy at a café.”

Peter winces, opening his mouth to apologize, but there’s a bit of shame burning his chest. He doesn’t want to tell the billionaire’s heir that he’s too broke to pay for his phone bill, that’s why he couldn’t text back.

“If you didn’t like me, you could’ve at least been honest,” Harley says, genuine hurt flooding his eyes.

“I don’t even know you,” Peter says instead. But he does know that Harley’s pretty and he has hints of a southern accent from before he got adopted as Tony Stark’s kid. He does know that it’s been three years since MJ, that if he wants to get back in the game, he’s allowed to.

“You could’ve gotten to know me if you had answered your phone,” Harley counters easily, eyebrows lifting. He leans forward, closer to Peter, voice low. “Can I take you out for dinner, darling?”

Peter swallows thickly, mind blanking. All he manages is a slow nod, trying not to stare too blatantly. Harley’s so close to him that Peter can smell the expensive cologne on him.

Harley smiles, leaning back. It’s less of a cocky, arrogant, rich boy smile, and more the most genuine smile Peter’s seen, dimples showing and the corners of his eyes creasing.

“Perfect. I’ll text you?”

This is where Peter should’ve said something. Where he should’ve admitted that he didn’t have a phone plan anymore and that he doesn’t even know where his phone went, probably lost in their apartment somewhere.

Instead, Betty’s sliding a coffee across the counter to Harley who puts down a bunch of coins.

“Three dollars and sixty cents,” Harley says proudly. He’s grinning as he takes his drink. “Your twenty percent like you asked for.”

Before Peter has the time to say anything, Harley’s out the door.

* The rest of Peter’s day is busy enough to keep his mind occupied and away from thoughts of Harley. He works at the café, gets June home from school, helps her with her kindergarten homework, welcomes June’s babysitter, Ned, works at the restaurant, and gets home with just enough time to shower and get an hour or two of sleep before he’s taking June back to school.

He only realizes his mistake when Betty skips over to him. “How was your date?”

“Oh shit,” he says, jaw dropping. He stood up Harley fucking Keener. He runs a hand through his hair and leans back against the counter.

Betty’s expression falls, eyebrows crinkling. “What happened?”

“I just- I was working till three and I just- I forgot.”

As if on cue, Harley walks into the café, nonchalant, uncaring, sunglasses perched on his nose.

“Harley, look, I’m sorry-”

“Large black coffee, thanks,” Harley says, dropping three dollar bills on the table.

There’s a second where all Peter does is stare dumbly, speechless before he gets his head back. “I’m sorry, Harley. I swear I have a good explanation for this. It’s just-”

Harley shrugs. “You know I acted like I was a stupid teenager. I went home and I gushed to Tony about the cute boy at the café who was good at math and who got all flustered when I flirted with you and didn’t trip head over heels just because I’m Tony’s kid. And then yesterday, I went home and I wouldn’t shut up about how I got a date. And then you never picked up your phone. You never answered my calls. You totally stood me up.”

“I couldn’t pay for my phone plan,” Peter blurts, shame rolling in his stomach. “I should’ve told you sooner, I just- I didn’t know how. I wanted to go on that date, but I- I worked all night and I- I don’t have a phone plan anymore, so I couldn’t.”

And like someone flipped a switch, Harley’s smiling in relief, tugging his sunglasses off his face.

“In that case, when does your shift end?”

“You forgive me? Just like that?”

Harley shrugs, grinning brightly. “Course I do, wasn’t your fault. Plus, I really do like you, Peter.”

“I’ve got plans after my shift.”

“Like what?”

Peter tips his head to the side. “Before you really decide that you like me, you should know I have a daughter. I pick her up from school after my shift.”

And instead of confusion or disgust or anger or anything, Harley’s smile widens. “I know it doesn’t sound like a perfect date, but I would love to tag along.”

Peter can’t help the little smile that creeps onto his face. “I mean, yeah, sure, if you really want to. I get off my shift at two.”

“Perfect!” Harley exclaims. He grabs the coffee Betty left him on the counter. He turns away from Peter who expects him to head out, but he sits at the closest table to the counter.

“You do realize there’s still six hours until two, right?” Peter calls out.

“I have wonderful entertainment,” Harley replies, resting his chin in his hand and simply staring at Peter from across the room.

* They walk all the way from the café to the elementary school, joking and flirting and teasing each other, knocking shoulders and playfully pushing each other.

It’s fun. Peter hasn’t had fun in a really long time.

“Daddy!” June exclaims, racing towards them. She stops short when she sees Harley. She squints up at him for a moment before shrugging and lifting her arms for Peter to pick her up.

“How was school, baby?”

“Good! Miss A gave me a sticker for cleaning up!” she says, smiling brightly, little hands curling into Peter’s shirt.

Peter smiles proudly and kisses her forehead. “June, this is Harley, a friend of mine. Harley, this is my daughter June.”

June’s face scrunches up. “Daddy doesn’t have any friends.”

“Oh my god,” Harley says, trying to stifle his laughter. “Well, he does now. It’s nice to meet you, June.”

She giggles, hiding her face shyly in Peter’s chest, wide brown eyes looking Harley over as though she’s the one protecting Peter.

“Back to mine?” Peter offers. “As much as I’d love a regular afternoon hanging out, I’ve got a shift at the restaurant tonight, so I’ve gotta get dinner started early. You’re welcome to hang out.”

“You work two jobs?” Harley asks, tipping his head to the side, curls flopping across his forehead. “And look after your kid?”

It’s not said with any judgement, just curiosity with a splash of worry.

“Yeah. June’s mom passed away during childbirth,” Peter explains quietly, pressing a kiss to June’s forehead. “Just me and her now, so I’m trying my best.”

The grief is still there, but it doesn’t hurt so much anymore. He knew MJ for nearly six years, dated her for two years. He was going to propose after June was born, he didn’t want MJ to think he was only proposing because she was pregnant. He had to sell the ring not long after June was born to pay for diapers and other supplies, so he doesn’t even have it anymore.

“I’m sorry,” Harley murmurs, gently taking Peter’s hand and intertwining their fingers.

Peter offers a smile and points in the direction they have to walk. “You prepared for a seven-block walk?”

“You walk this every day?” Harley’s eyes go wide, jaw dropping. “Carrying her? Oh my god, no wonder you’re so fit!”

June giggles lifting her head to look at Harley. “Daddy’s so strong.”

“He sure is,” he agrees, grinning. “You want me to take her?”

Normally, Peter wouldn’t have agreed to give his kid over to anyone, but Harley’s been incredibly sweet and understanding over the past three days. So, he lets Harley take June and swing her up onto his shoulders, not even wincing when June grabs his curls, giggling brightly.

“Look, Daddy! I’m so tall!” she exclaims, little legs accidentally kicking Harley in the chest, but he just smiles, and holds onto her ankles.

“You sure are, baby, be grateful. This is probably the only time you’ll ever feel tall if you inherited my genes,” Peter laughs.

They walk the seven walks together, Harley never once complaining about June on his shoulders or having to walk so long, chatting about everything and anything. Harley’s more down to earth than Peter would’ve expected for Tony Stark’s son. He talks about his mom and his sister back in Tennessee, about how Tony adopted him when he was eleven so Harley could have the best opportunities he could.

And Peter talks about his own family. His mom and dad, and their plane crash, his aunt and uncle, and their car crash. About how he was living with MJ to finish his high school education when she got pregnant and he lost her too.

Harley’s sympathetic, but not in a pitying way, not in a way that Peter feels judged or uncomfortable. And it’s nice. Peter’s spent the past three years only really talking to a toddler and coworkers.

It’s just nice to have a friend.

June pulls out her colouring books when they get home, immediately racing off to the living room to turn on Paw Patrol and colour.

Harley sits up on the counter in the kitchen as Peter pulls open the fridge, sighing and rubbing his eyes when he realizes it’s pretty much empty.

“You wanna order in?” Harley offers, already pulling out his phone and wallet. “I can pay.”

“I’m not your charity case,” Peter says. He knows Harley’s only being nice, but it stings to think that June could be with someone like Harley, not living off boxed mac and cheese, and cheap snacks.

Harley lifts his hands in surrender. “I’m not saying you are. This is a date, right? I’ll cover dinner this time. You can get the next one.”

Lifting his eyebrows, Peter bites back a smile, butterflies filling his stomach. “Already planning a second date, Keener? A little presumptuous of you, isn’t it?”

Harley reaches out to grab Peter’s waist, pulling him into the spot between his legs, grinning carelessly. “Only if you want to, of course.”

“Let’s get through this one first before we start making new plans, hm?” Peter replies, a smile touching his face.

Sure, there’s a headache growing behind his eyes, one that’s been there for as long as he can remember. Sure, he’s exhausted and his feet hurt and he has another shift at the restaurant that night. Sure, he’s only known Harley for three days. Sure, Peter doesn’t feel good enough to be with someone like Harley.

But Harley’s looking at him like he hung the stars, grinning brightly like he wouldn’t want to be anywhere but here with Peter.

So, Peter leans in and presses a kiss to Harley’s lips. It’s been three years since he’s kissed anybody, but Harley doesn’t seem to mind because his hands lift to cradle Peter’s face, kissing back enthusiastically.

Until, “Daddy! Look!”

Peter pulls away, unable to stop the smile from spreading across his face and laughing at the terrible timing.

“Yeah, honey?” Peter calls out, turning to the kitchen door just as June barrels in, coloring book in hand.

“Lookie!” She says, giving him the book. It’s a picture of Sky from Paw Patrol, messily scribbled in with every color in the rainbow.

“It looks great, baby. Way better than anything I could do,” Peter laughs. “You want pizza tonight?”

She lights up, bouncing on her feet. “Yes please! Thank you, Mister Harley!”

Harley grins down at her, ruffling her hair. “Course, kiddo. Anything for you.”

And Peter believes him. In the hour or so that Harley’s known June, he’s been nothing but a picture-perfect guy to both Peter and June.

June shouts a quick thank you and then she races back through to the living room, leaving the two boys alone.

“Thanks for everything,” Peter murmurs, leaning into Harley’s chest. “You’ve been a really nice guy, so thank you for that.”

“You’re thanking me for being a decent human being?” Harley asks. But then he laughs and kisses Peter’s cheek. “Course, darling. I really do like you, I wasn’t lying earlier.”

“I really like you too, not for your money or for the title, but I like you.”

Something about Harley’s demeanor relaxes infinitesimally. “Thanks. Most people hear my name and they just want the minute of fame from knowing me, I guess.”

“Well, most people look at me and see somebody who’s not worth the trouble, so thank you for overlooking the fact that my life is a mess right now.”

Harley smiles, dimples showing in his cheeks, and runs his thumb over Peter’s cheekbone softly. “If you’d let me, could I pay for your phone bill. I wanna be able to text you and call you. This would be for me, not for you, obviously.”

Peter laughs, kissing Harley again. “For you, of course.”

* Peter gets home from the restaurant to find Harley still in his apartment with Ned. Harley had offered to babysit, but was understanding when Peter said he wasn’t sure if he trusted Harley alone with his daughter and Ned was already on his way.

Peter had expected Harley to head home after Peter left, but from the looks of it, Harley had hung out with Ned and June all night.

“Didn’t think you’d stay,” Peter admits, dropping onto the couch beside Harley. “You have a good night?”

“We watched a Barbie movie and ate way too much pizza. June told me all about school and you and everything.”

Ned leans over the back of the couch, yawning. “Gonna head home, Pete. Do you work tomorrow too?”

“Nah, took the weekend off, had some plans. Bye, Ned. Goodnight.”

“Night, Pete. Night, Harley.”

Ned heads out, and Harley immediately turns to Peter with a knowing grin. “Plans?”

“Yeah, you promised me a second date, didn’t you?”

“Me, you, and June should go to a park. Have a cute little picnic, fly some kites.”

Peter can’t help but smile. For their second date, Harley includes June without a second thought. It’s the sweetest thing in the world. Peter can’t help but slide into the space beside Harley, curling into Harley’s warmth, and kiss him sweetly.

“Sounds wonderful.”

“This is probably going to sound insane, and it’s too late for anything I say to be taken seriously, but do you believe in love at first sight?”

Peter thinks carefully, remembering the first time he saw MJ at school and the way his heart almost beat out of his chest, remembering seeing Harley three days prior at the café and the way he thought he was going to die on the spot.

“I think so, yeah,” Peter says, voice quiet. “Do you?”

“Saw you, falling asleep at the counter, and I swear to you, darling, I just knew. I know I was a bit of a jerk to you, but I just- Falling that quickly, never happened to me before, and I panicked a little bit.”

“Don’t wanna drop that word yet,” Peter says, shaking his head.

“Me neither, but I just know I really like you, darling.”

“I really like you too.”

Peter snuggles up closer to Harley, draping his legs over Harley’s lap and wrapping his arms around his neck.

“Comfy?” Harley asks, pressing a kiss to Peter’s temple.

“Mm, yeah.”

“Good. You’re safe and sound with me, darling.”

#lyss writes #febufluff #parkner #parkner fic #parley #harley keener/peter parker #harley/peter #harley keener #harley x peter #dad peter parker #coffee shop au #peter parker

158 notes · View notes