#cheers beers and supporting our peers

[chadism-101]

Happy disability pride month! Friendly reminder that you don’t owe abled people anything!

#disability pride month #ct-chad #chadism #cheers beers and supporting our peers

[ermakeys]

Pssst Yoda is a fan of Chad! Pass it on!

#yoda #chad #chadism #ct-chad #star wars #cheers beers and supporting our peers

[smuttyaf]

You Can Be My Daddy

𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐰; 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐜𝐮𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐞’𝐬 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐟𝐨𝐫, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐮𝐥𝐭.

wc: 5.1k

implied age gap! don’t read if it makes you uncomfy!!

Phillips Academy

Victorian sculpted pillars lift the aging bricks that roams for acres over the land. Trees scatter along the property with pathways of cobblestone leading steps into the historic school. It holds years of academic success, painting itself in the many trophies set in tall cases throughout the building.

It’s one of the reasons Harry accepted the offer at working at such a prestigious boarding school; not only it’s astounding history but also the fact it promotes community leadership and engagement. They challenge students to develop what is finest in themselves and others, making their accomplishments influence pupils on campus to remain in their values especially when it comes to education.

Well, if their parents are paying 40-60 grand every year it would be in their best interest to really care about their studies.

The academy is one of the most expensive boarding schools worldwide. Filled with rich kids going about their days either roaming amongst the grounds in large groups, or supporting the lacrosse team in raging cheers. The ambiance of the school oozes dark academia, this high class atmosphere radiating once stepping onto the property.

The aura travels its way through the spacious hallways and into in Mr. Bennett’s office; past principals roam along the walls illuminating the room, birch desk craved in intricate swirls sit with tiny trinkets littering the space with some papers.

It’s where Harry finds himself sitting opposite of the desk, arms resting along the chair handles listening intently to his boss.

“Mr. Styles your presence is always appreciated, especially in times like this; I commend you for being able to accept an additional student with your chaotic schedule.” He nods his head in understanding, pleasant smile stretching his lips.

“Of course sir, I’m always here to offer a helping hand.” The grey hair man acknowledges his employee, serious look combing over his face as he straightens his back.

“There is however information that needs to be disclosed before she makes her exchange over here.” There’s strain silence in the air with the older man thinking about the choice of his words. “There has been gossip, and even though it’s very frowned upon in our community they still need to be addressed. This new student, Y/N. It’s been rumoured that she… well… I mean let’s just she say has a very corrupt mind, attempting apparently to seduce her peers.”

The news has his feet fidgeting across the floor, back shuffling around in the chair with his throat clearing.

Harry heard of teachers catching students kissing in the library or witnessing the occasional love note; so if this student was allegedly seducing teachers it makes this new found information haunting. There hasn’t been this kind of promiscuous activity on the school grounds before, and quite frankly Harry wants no parts. He has a reputation to uphold.

“If I may speak?” He interjects, fingers raising slightly as Mr. Bennett nods in approval for his thoughts. “And I’m sorry if I speak out of turn sir but… if these rumours have some truth to them then why is she still in the system?”

It’s a fair question. These specific allegations should be investigated deeply, maybe even having law enforcement in this very room just for this conversation to happen.

The words make the beer belly principal sigh in frustration. Fingers running over each other as he twists around in his chair shaking his head slowly.

“They are only allegations and without proper evidence to uphold them we can’t do anything but keep close eye on her.” Brown eyes connect with green, serious exchange between their gaze.

“Which doesn’t go without saying, it’s in our best interest that we do routinely check ups with staff members who have her in their classes.”

Harry nods his head in agreement completely understanding the velocity of the arrangement.

“I recognize the gravity of the matter sir, believe me, I won’t jeopardize my position.” Harry reassures. It makes the older man smile, happy with the response.

“I always trust you Styles, I’m sure you won’t let me down.” Standing he offers his hand out, Harry obliges smiling at Mr. Bennett appreciating his words.

Once exiting the heavy doors of his office, Harry makes the mental note to not fall into whatever tricks you have up your sleeve. Whether the gossip was true or not he still needs to remain focus on his job. He can’t fail to lose it, the pay and pension was too good for him to slip up. It would be stupid to get himself caught up in something scandalous.

So, he kept doing his usual routine throughout the week: teaching, conversing with co-workers, assisting the boys with lacrosse practice, and doing any extra help with his students.

Everything was going how it normally is, for example right now; he’s on his familiar route from the staff lounge heading towards his history class.

The tall wooden door peels open from the grip Harry has on the handle, and because the school is so old and lacks updated renovations, he doesn’t see someone losing their balance on the other side of the door until they slip into the space that it reveals.

Textbooks and papers fall across the floor, her repetto heels squeak against the polish wood with body barely catching her balance on the door.

“Oh my —I’m so sorry!” Harry rushes, holding the side of her waist as her arm slams against the wooden panel.

“Ow…” The sweet voice below him whimpers as she begins to rub her elbow.

It’s the tiny melodic harmony that makes his sight float down to her small frame. Feathery eyebrows crease together in her forehead, plump lips shining with gloss that push out in a pout, and her eyes… Harry so caught on the vivid colour of them and how they’re so doe and soft, like a bunny. His bunny.

Harry can feel his heart stirring. Feverish blood flow that begins to spread through his once relax body. He know this school like the back of his hand, from all his co-workers to the familiar faces of students from different grades, but you.

You’re new, pure sight for sore eyes and the grip he has on your waist rubbing over the skin in sincere comfort. He wants to relish in it forever.

“I’m so sorry dear these doors aren’t the most practical,” He confides gaze watching over her irritated expression.

“Tell me about it.” She grumbles, that causes him to break into a small smile.

“You’re new right? I haven’t seen you around before.” Harry questions, while releasing the grip he has.

He bends his knees picking up the papers and textbooks shuffling them along in his palms. It’s when he’s drawing up to stand does he realize the white thigh highs sitting neatly across your skin.

Your skirt was obviously rolled twice over to the point that it accentuates your shapely legs, a daring choice that adds an element of allure to the uniform; and as his gaze continues to float up, it makes him swallow hesitantly when seeing your button up with two undone to display your bouncy breast.

“Yes. I’m Y/N, the new exchange student.”

Your choice in clothing resembles the rumours floating around. The uniform still holds its sophisticated aspect but the revealing skin boarders on being called out for the altered apparel.

You’re a tease. It’s written all over you. From the way your socks press tightly into your inner thighs to the glimmer shining in your gaze; your aura radiates the many stories that Harry has read about. Pirates being lured in by beautiful siren mermaids, making them jeopardize their own ships just to be in their presence.

He never understood those telltales about the men falling so easily from the near appearance of them, but now he understands.

“I’m Mr. Styles, History teacher.” Harry states, his body going to hold the door open as he places the books back into your hold.

“Oh! So you’re my last period teacher,” Crinkle brows relax as pearly white teeth shine, eyes flickering down his suited trousers and basic blazer frame.

“So it seems,” Harry nods, deciding to not pay attention to your lingering stare, but instead widening the door at the chime of the bell. “I will see you in class then.”

He bows his head while stepping around you. The padding of feet with chatter fills the space as students litter into the hall. It sends waves of relief through Harry that he doesn’t need to be around your presence, though this tinge of desire wants to feel you beneath his touch again, especially with the way you begin to bat those eyes at him.

Harry tries — believe him — he tries to refrain every glare he makes towards your direction as you sit in the middle of the classroom. He tries to not look at your questioning appearance consuming his words, or when your elbows press together in your chest only adding more definition to your breasts.

He wants to believe that his bunny is at least modest especially with the rumours floating around, and with the first couple weeks you are.

Cheery voice greeting him when stepping through the door frame. Eager demeanour ready to learn with shining eyes. Hand rising in the air to answer questions or being next to him to ask about the recent assigned work needing help.

He starts to think to himself that everything was a lie. The seducing teachers and provocative actions, probably just spread because of her appearance. The student that he’s been teaching for three weeks didn’t show any signs of flirtatious energy and he was extremely grateful for that.

The weekly reports he’s been sending Mr. Bennett is filled with nothing but nice things about bunny. Discussing how she’s on time and already doing good so far with her studies. He thinks it will be an easy year, sure he’ll have eye candy for the remainder and it might be difficult due to her tempting wardrobe choices, but he has self-control.

Or at least that’s what he thought.

Harry didn’t know what happened, but it was as if a flip switched in you. Soon, the once soft voice that entered his class was tinged with an enticing tone to it. Gaze now glimmers with playfulness every time they would drop in a wink when you say the correct answer; or even when asking for help, leaning in dangerously close to the point he would see your soft tits just begging to be touched through the tight fabric.

He tries to refrain himself, ignoring fluttering lashes, or the glistening smirk of your plump lips. At times he needs to sink his palm in his growing erection when he watches your hips swing when returning to your desk. The curve of your ass cheeks poking where the material of the navy blue skirt ends. He licks his lips and tries to draw in his thoughts.

Harry has values to uphold, hell, even a moral compass, but with you, it was like you’re asking for it.

You know you’re beautiful, always using it to your advantage to get away with showing up to class late with flirty smile, or catching small glimpses of you on the school grounds chatting to boys thrilled they have the prettiest girl on campus giving them attention.

It was little things like that, that would bother him even though he knows it shouldn’t. All these little boys having his bunny attention.

It was crystal clear where it needs to be. It’s the reason why you’re at this boarding school, the reason why you dress the way you do, and it’s the reason why everyone across school boards is talking about you.

It’s just like right now; you’re looking over at Luca, winking at him as he smirks in your direction, both clearly ignoring the class speaker informing everyone about the history of Marie Antoinette.

The exchange practically has him fuming, Harry was now months into your teasing ways. Actions now more prominent when drawing your hand down his shoulder asking about certain questions, even a couple weeks ago, it escalated to the point he thought he distinctly heard you whisper wanting to do something to him, and when asked what you said you opted to giggle and play stupid.

In the moment he wanted so badly to grab you by your beautiful locks and leave your pussy an abused mess, but instead he abstained himself, going to the nearest bathroom and emptying himself in his hand at the images crossing his mind.

Harry would be lying if he said he wasn’t pissed off that your eyes are on someone else but his. As Florence continues speaking he stands, writing three questions pertaining to the chapters they’ve read on the chalk board.

He allows the mineral to fall back to its original place while turning around smiling to his students as she concludes her speech. “The story of Marie Antoinette still leaves people interested to this very day. Her beauty, brave-spirit, and misfortunes that ultimately lead to her tragic death shows that even in those ages compared to now it still holds peculiar, life-like reality to the sad tale.”

Harry’s sight gazes over the uninterested and intrigued faces of his students, feet moving across the floor as he gathers his thoughts about the assigned passages.

“The three questions I have written on the board, who would like to answer?” Sight crossing over hands that raise with urgency as he retreats back to his desk.

Of course his bunny was glad to answer, familiar happy glint in your eye as you let your back curve deliciously in your desk to catch his attention. He let his gaze run over the many faces, purposely ignoring you.

“Hailey, Austin, and… Y/N”

The three stand and head towards the board, footsteps sounding against polish floorboards as they begin filling out the answers to the questions he wrote. He notices the way you pick the chalk closest to his chair, and is basically by his side as you wait your turn.

Harry couldn’t help but bite down on his lip, back ruffling against his leather chair as he looked over the board before turning towards his daily planner.

“I need everyone to read chapters five through ten and finish the remaining questions on both sides of the page.”

He hears some groans in the space with the rumbling of students turning their textbooks open to the assigned work. At the same time, Hailey and Austin find their way back to their original seats.

His attention goes towards you fixing the lettering at the end of your sentence, and of course his bunny was correct.

You stepped away, smiling charmingly at him while turning around making your way towards your desk until realizing the chalk still in hand; and with the sudden realization your fingers fumble over it causing it to fall to the floor.

The echo of your heels halt, spine dipping down to expose your perky backside and display your pussy covered in your lacy pink thong. Oh bunny.

The display of skin that he’s been wanting to bury himself in since seeing you in that fucking skirt has blood rushing to his cock. He’s biting down on his knuckle as he watches you hurry to the board to place it back and settling into your chair, expression as if you didn’t just flash him; as if you didn’t even know.

Harry inhales deeply, hand moving from his mouth to smile bashfully towards his students. “I have such an exceptional class this year. Good job to the three.”

Sitting up he looks over his schedule for the next couple of weeks, there was only five minutes left of class and he needs to dilute his thoughts of wanting to fuck his student into his desk.

He allows the chatter in the room to increase as time seems to drag on, his hand relieving the blood flowing through his crotch until the usual bell chimes across the school.

In the shrill sound it makes students flood out of the classroom, causing him to swiftly stand when seeing you pass through the space.

“Actually Y/N, may I speak to you for a moment.” Catching you before leaving, the once lively atmosphere quiets down as the door clicks shut. He steps back gesturing towards the desks in front of the classroom.

The cute confused expression over your face makes him chew on the inside of his cheek. Harry clears his throat as he watches you sit, straight teeth nibbling into the flesh of your lip as you give him that doe stare.

“Is there something wrong sir?” Mascara coated lashes batting innocently.

“Yes actually dear… you see, I’ve grown quite fond of you in my classroom,” A sincere smile beams, subtle blush spreading along your cheeks as you nod your head in acknowledgement. “You have been passing all your assignments and tests amazingly, I haven’t met a new student who excels so greatly.”

“Thank you sir, I really do try my best.” The words flowing out of your mouth meet with your finger tips gently gliding over Harry’s stance. One hand situated on the desk while the other is on the back of your chair, his tall frame cornering you into the wall.

Harry knows he should pull away from the touch, but he pretends it’s not happening.

“However I have some serious concerns to discuss with you.” Once again, those big bunny eyes completely puzzled at his words.

“I have to ask do you have any parental guidance in your life?” Your face stretches into more confusion.

“Um… my mom doesn’t care much about me, been sending me away once she got the chance.” You say with teeth going back to nimble the fat flesh.

“And your father?”

“He left when I was five, I’ve never met him or have much memories.”

Interesting.

“Why the question sir?” You ask, gentle voice sounding through the space.

Another deep sigh trails out from him. “Your uniform Y/N. Do you find it appropriate?”

It makes you rake over your appearance, brows creasing even further at the question.

“Well, yes, I haven’t been in trouble about it before?”

Harry nods his head. “It was never really a problem for me and I’m sure your other peers, but today… when you dropped the chalk I did see your um…”

“Panties?”

Still there’s this look in your eyes just begging for Harry to crack, especially with the tug at the end of your lips as they connect the dots of this conversation.

“Yes, it’s extremely inappropriate and part of me believes that with certain… alterations to your uniform maybe this mishap wouldn’t have happen.” Your hair shifts with every nod of your head.

He knows you’re pretending to understand, knows that you really don’t care about what he has to say. You only care about continuing your devious plan.

“Okay sir…” Lashes batting slowly until head knocks over to the side, fake expression appears once again. “So the question about ‘parental guidance’ what’s that about?”

Harry clears his throat, chest leaning away from you as he rest along the desk parallel to your body. He drinks in your sight; the teasing smirk and luring gaze drawing him in with your prominent chest ready to be in his hold.

“I think… you need a father figure.” Eye connection not wavering as your legs uncross themselves and sit up higher in the wooden chair.

“Is that so?” Sultry tone making the pumping nerves in his veins begin to spread where he wants your touch the most.

“Yes… it’s just so obvious with your skirt, why do you wear it so short?” Harry questions. His bushy brows rise as you clearly pretend to think over your answer.

“I have to be honest sir, I never thought it was that short.” Voice filled with such sarcasm that Harry’s nails are scratching into the desk. His patience wearing thin.

“Which is why I think you need some guidance.” He watches you lick over your bottom lip before you’re standing. Body so tiny compared to his as he swallows your frame despite his posture.

“Like a father figure?” Almond nails dancing along the waistband of his pants as you stare up at him with that same devious look.

“Y —Yes like a mentor maybe.” His hands leave the desk going to tear yours away from his skin.

He so desperately wants nothing more than to feel you all around him but, he has to be the adult in this situation.

“Please bunny, I want you to respect me as I respect you.”

The sentence has you stepping back. Pearly white teeth shining as you poke your hip out, breasts moving slightly from the motion that it causes Harry to swallow shallowly.

His fingers contract around air looking over your satisfied expression. He fucked up. Deeply fucked up, and with the innocent disguise finally dropping he succumbs to your plan. The one that has him a fidgeting hot mess in his own classroom.

“Bunny?” Your eyes twinkle as your heels echo going back to their previous place. Tongue gliding over your glossy lips with fingers running over his stomach.

“M —My apologies miss I —I”

“—Is that the nickname you gave me, bunny. Why?” Plucked eyebrow perch itself high as you still hold your devilish expression.

“W —Well… I… um… I think it’s in both of our favours to just pretend this never happened. I won’t even report it to Mr. Bennett—“

“—Now Mr. Styles.”

His name rolling off your tongue in a long drawl that it nearly sends him floating into your body. He’s becoming pray to your toxic ways. He should draw away immediately from your touch, he should be turned off quite frankly, but it’s his bunny.

His bunny who he’s been dying to feel under again and burrow in your floral fragrance. Your swollen lips look like they’re begging to be sucked on, luscious locks just dying to be in his grip. He wants to ruin you, just as bad as you want to ruin him.

“I know you stare at me in class.” Palms gliding down the expanse of his obvious erection.

“I feel it even in the halls when we pass by each other, your eyes on my tits and ass. Don’t you like them Mr. Styles?” Pressure applying to his dick that it makes him groan lowly in his throat.

“I bet you think about the way my pussy feels… or how my sweet mouth would wrap around your cock.” Eyes batting up at him so enticingly that he’s back to restraining himself against the desk, teeth biting into his bottom lip allowing you to touch him like the many times he’s dreamt about.

“Maybe I do need a father figure.” Digits now beginning to undo the heavy metal of his belt buckle. “Need someone to put me in my place…”

God he’s fucked, he’s totally ruined.

He can pull away now and keep this exchange just between them, act as if it never even happen. Save both of them the embarrassment. But… his bunny.

You’re so eager to please, so eager to get what you’ve been wanting, just so happy to accomplish having your way with a man half your age. It’s written all over your face.

“Maybe… you can be my daddy.”

The warmth of your hand dips between the denim of his pants and the material of his boxers. Small fingers curling around his cock gently stoking him with that fucking smirk.

“Would you like that Mr. Styles?” Wrist twisting with hand tightening. It has him moaning lowly in his throat, eyes fluttering at the change in your motions. “Hmm?” Antagonizing hum met with another flick of your hand as you rise up his shaft.

“N —No…”

“No?” Dreamy eyes glazing over in arousal as your bottom lip juts out in fake disappointment.

“We can’t be doing this… i —it’s wrong.” The hold he has on the desk releases its grip as he falls pray to the movements that have his toes curling in his loafers.

“It’s wrong… but your hard cock is in my hand right now.” Deep sigh leaving Harry chest. His sight flicks between your lips and eyes, the fact his bunny is looking up at him like the last time they were this close is sending him up the wall.

“It’s wrong but you want to fuck me every time you look at me?” Head knocking to the side in your devious tone.

“It’s wrong but you think about me enough to have a lil’ nickname for me?” Thumb spreading his pre-cum amongst him.

Harry wants to grip your throat and push you into the wall, stop the words of torment from trailing out of your mouth like it isn’t the truth.

“Come on Mr. Styles,” Eyes rolling amused at his flustered appearance. “Let me taste you. It’ll be just between us, okay?”

He swallows, shifting his gaze completely avoiding the question. The slight tremble in your voice, and the way your hands run down him so smoothly has his hips stuttering in your palm.

“Don’t you want to be my daddy?” Harry witnesses the way your pupils dilate like you want this to happen so desperately. How your lashes flutter up so beautifully… maybe this isn’t so bad… maybe this isn’t that scandalous.

“And I can be your bunny.”

Oh… how he’s been dying to hear those words float from your mouth. It’s why he ultimately subsides in tension, his hands that found safety curled into the desk now run along your neck.

One hand holding you there while the other scoops your jaw, thumb rubbing off the sticky gloss covering your lips.

“You are my bunny.”

Harry sees the way your expression glimmers with happiness. The stroking you have over him continues to twist and tug in your hand now slick with pre-cum.

“Always been mine.” Head tilting down to capture your lips in his. The taste of your peach lip gloss doesn’t over power the sweetness of the way you flow all along his tongue.

Muscles lap over each other with urgency, basking in the flavour you expel along his tastebuds. So savoury and delicious. Harry can’t stop the growl that trails between rushed lips.

All his daydreams and thoughts about the way you taste can’t compare to the real thing. Saliva drips from your mouth with tongues dancing along each other in pure erotic fashion. And when you break the kiss with such an high pitch moan, it has his nerves railing up his spine.

“Want to make my daddy feel good, can I?” The breathless draw of your voice sends shockwaves of arousal through Harry, the hold you have around him shifts as you begin to lower yourself mischievously looking up at him.

“Yes, fuck yes.”

As you fall to your knees Harry lets his hands glide into your hair. Capturing the unruly strands as you tug the remains of his trousers down his thighs.

He appreciates that you don’t waste time and suck the head of his cock into your mouth. Spit oozing out of your lips as you glide down from his crown and let your tongue escape to roam all along his shaft. Your muscle ventures down the underside of him, licking every surface expose that has him groaning loudly.

Harry has dreamt of this moment more times then he can count; your cherry slick mouth sucking him in so heavenly, gaze sparkling up at him with pleasure, hands running up his thighs to balance your moving position.

The warmth of your tongue is delectable to him. The walls of your mouth coating him in salvia as you slide him down your throat with ease. Each descend has Harry breath rushing out with urgency.

Two bodies in the one room greedy for each other in the wickedness of their actions. A teacher falling for the game that the student below him plays who simply loves the end result of her actions.

The constant vibrations of your moans add to the excitement of this moment. Your eyes wide watching Harry relish in the grip you have over him. It’s a tantalizing connection with flexing tongue and throat that accepts the length of his cock as if it’s nothing.

His bunny is so talented, showing him all her tricks. Massaging his balls softly while the other strokes down the expanse of him, your mouth dangerously slurping him up to the point your nose brushes against his pelvis. You’re so good at this, too good at this.

As you raise up from his shaft with tongue circling around his crown before descending down again, the fingers in your hair hold your head against him. Your throat quivers around his thickness accepting the hold he has over you.

“Fuckin’ hell,” Harry groans as you stare up at him so innocently just accepting the force.

Of course his bunny is very good to him. So smart, so pretty, so perfect just for him.

His grip releases allowing you to rise up and catch your breath, but even within that time it takes you to inhale you’re back to swallowing him down. Forehead nestling against his stomach as he rocks into the depths of your throat.

Harry keeps going, the same motions of letting you up only for you to wrap your sweet mouth around him and have him stifle your airways over and over again, just letting him ruin your throat.

“Fuck bunny,” Harry groans, fingers curling around your locks as he sucks his bottom lip between his teeth.

Lashes flutter up at him dreamy and teary eye, he knows your throat is burning, and he knows you like it because he sees the happy glint in your eye like when you say the correct answer.

The nickname makes you peel away from his cock and smile at him, string of saliva connecting between your lips and the head of his dick as he looks down at you in adoration.

“Don’t you like this daddy?” Raspy voice met with hands gliding down leisurely from all the spit coating him.

“Yes… so good for me.” He moans, eyes blinking lowly at the tickling feeling of his climax peaking through.

Redness creeps across Harry cheeks, nails scratching your scalp with bruised lip sucking back into his mouth every few moments. The feel of your small hands twisting and jerking him off gracefully has another moan flowing out of him.

“Bunny,” Harry groans at the feeling of your mouth beginning to suck his balls.

Big bold eyes stare up at him while you continue to stroke and tug at his dick. The sight of your saliva masking him in all its clear fluid is a moment he wants framed, especially when there’s so much it drips down your knuckles nearly running into the sleeve of your button up.

“Fuck I’m gonna cum… keep doing that.” The view of you so needy and pleased has the sparks raking through his stomach and jerking his hips forward in your hand.

The fingers in your hair peel your head away from their position and let them reach the crown of his cock. Your mouth already open and batting your lashes up at him in pure happiness as you continue to stroke him until he’s painting your tongue in long creamy squirts.

White lines that once draw down the length of your tongue blur together as he watches you stand, tongue still out and displaying the mess he just made.

The grip Harry has in your hair falls back to their original position, one on your neck and the other going to your jaw and letting your mouth close. His eyes watching you closely as you swallow his seed and open your mouth to display your tongue clean of his mess.

“So perfect for me bunny.” He utters, thumb gliding over the flesh of your lips at the same time you continue to tug him off.

And just as Harry is about to inch forward and taste the mixture of you and himself on his tongue, he hears plummeting knocks that break the moment.

“Mr. Styles.” The voice of Mr. Bennett.

#harry styles #harry styles smut #harry styles fic #harry styles one shot #smuttyaf #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles imagine #hs #harry styles angst #harry styles blurb #harry styles fluff #harry styles fandom #harry styles fic rec #teacher!harry #ohmgeee i hope y’all like #teehee

[tiffdawg]

Curriculum Vitae: Chapter Seventeen

Gif: @javier-pena​

curriculum vitae noun cur·ric·u·la vi·tae Latin. the course of one’s life.

Pairing: Javier Peña x Reader (fem; no y/n)

Word Count: 3.4k

Rated: E  | Warnings: NSFW – semi-explicit sexual content, l*ve m*king. Feelings. Domesticity. 18+ only.

Chapter Summary: In this chapter, Javier returns to Los Angeles to spend New Year's Eve with you. 

A/N: My plan to have this chapter our at the start of the month didn't pan out, but here is the NYE chapter. Finally! I hope that you all enjoy it and are having a wonderful start to 2021. Thank you, as always, for reading and supporting this story. Sending lots of love!

Read on AO3

CV Masterlist | My Masterlist

… . …

Chapter Seventeen

As you stood outside gate C14, you tightened your grip on Sunny’s leash. With a wagging tail and shining eyes, she pulled in every direction, determined to greet every passing traveler.

“Hey,” you whispered, “I know you’re excited but be good before they kick us both out.” You weren’t exactly sure if she was supposed to be there but sometimes it was better to ask for forgiveness rather than permission. She made a displeased whining noise as she sat down next to you. “Don’t you want to see Javi?” Her ears perked up at the familiar name. “I thought so.”

You glanced back at the gate through the crowd of people. There was still no sign of any disembarking passengers. You took a deep breath and tamped down your own excitement, deciding to crouch down next to Sunny and pet her rather than stare at the empty gate. Your affectionate touch calmed the both of you.

So when she yipped again, you knew exactly why.

Glancing up, you found Javier scanning the crowd and his eyes were drawn to Sunny’s bark. A grin broke out on his face that certainly matched yours.

The two of you met somewhere in the middle. You don’t even remember making the conscious decision to move toward him. It was just instinctual. Like the way you threw your arms around Javier’s neck and his wound around your waist as your lips met in one long deep kiss that left you weak in the knees. You leaned into him, knowing he’d keep you steady, and savored the way he hummed in pleasure against your lips.

“Hi,” Javier breathed as he rested his forehead against yours. You traced the curve of his smile with the pad of your thumb as you cupped his cheek. It was one of those perfect ones that crinkled the corners of his eyes and left him looking years younger. And so damn happy.

“Hi,” you echoed, unsure if you could find another word in that moment. But maybe you didn’t need to say anything else. It was enough just to feel his arms around you again.

“I missed this,” he murmured. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too, Javi.” Your eyes fell as you took him in. Long-sleeved plaid shirt tucked into his well-fitting dark wash jeans and paired with his signature boots. You ran your hands over the soft material covering his chest. “You didn’t have to come back,” you whispered.

“I wanted to.”

“What about your dad?”

“He has plenty of family to spend the night with. He was fine with me leaving early.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yeah,” he answered, rolling his eyes. “When he found out you were spending New Year’s Eve alone, he smacked me upside the head and told me to get on the next plane to LA.” You made a surprised noise that quickly turned into giggles. “Don’t laugh at that. That’s not funny,” he said with a smile of his own.

You laced your fingers with his and kissed the back of his hand, trying to hide your grin. “It is, actually.” Your smile fell. “Still, you didn’t have to come back just for me.”

“Yes, I did. I wouldn’t have been happy knowing you were alone. I’m right where I want to be.” His grin widened and you felt a quiet laugh in his chest. “I don’t think you were the only one who missed me.” You followed his eyes to find Sunny, tongue out and tail wagging, with two paws on Javier’s hip as she vied for his attention. He let go of you only to kneel down to greet her. “Si, si, te extrañé,” he shushed as he tried to calm the excited dog. Your heart soared as he planted a kiss on the top of her head.

“Should we stop by baggage claim?” you asked.

“Nope.” He stood and swung a worn leather duffle over his shoulder. “Let’s go home.”

You tried not to read much into his turn of phrase as he slung an arm around your shoulders and guided you out of the busy terminal. “So,” you decided to prod as you waited at the crosswalk leading to the parking garage, “you told your dad about me?”

“Well, he figured it out.” He continued only at your confused expression. “He said I was happy.”

You kissed him. “I’m happy too,” you said, slipping a hand in his back pocket and squeezing his ass through his denim jeans. That earned you a wolfish grin that brought out that lone dimple just for you.

… . …

“It looks like 1985 in here,” you commented as soon as Javier could even set his duffle and your overpacked tote on the kitchen counter and flick on the lights. “Well, at least the parts you’ve unboxed.”

“Didn’t want to get too settled.” You peered over your shoulder at him with a bit of a scowl. All he could offer in response was a shrug as he slid your coat off your shoulders and hung it next to his. “I didn’t know if I would last the first week of classes let alone the first month.”

“You absolutely did. You survived the whole fall quarter.”

“Only because of you.”

Two fingers gripped his chin and turned his face toward yours. Your eyes locked onto his. “You’ve got to start giving yourself some credit, Javier. You’re a damn good professor. Whether you like it or not.”

“Wouldn’t you rather inspect what I have decorated?” he asked, placing two hands on your hips and spinning you around. “I know you’re dying to.”

“Maybe a little,” you admitted with a light laugh. With a firm hand on the small of your back as he pushed you further into the apartment. “Bedroom and bathroom are that way,” he said, pointing down the dark hall.

You gestured to the closed door on the opposite side of the living room. “What’s that room?”

“Empty spare bedroom.”

“God, I hate you. You have a gorgeous two-bedroom apartment in Brentwood, and you don’t even appreciate it. An empty room, boxes still unopened. Why don’t we ever come here? Your place is so much better than mine.”

“It’s fucking depressing,” he scoffed.

“I could help you make it feel like home.” You meant that innocently. He could hear it in your tone. You were probably only referring to adding a few throw pillows or candles or something like that, but already just having you there felt different. He’d thought he was going back home to Texas, but the truth was he felt more at home now just by being with you. “Yeah, I think you could.” You might’ve responded, but something caught your attention.

Almost reverently, you picked up a framed photograph off the lone bookshelf in his living room. “Your mother?” you asked quietly. He didn’t have to look at the photo to know which one you were drawn to.

“Yes,” he answered as he moved to stand behind you. Wrapping his arms around your shoulders, he pulled you back against his chest so he could peer down at the black and white photo in your hands. He was maybe five. Just a gangly boy with limbs too long for his own good and a cast on one arm from when he’d fallen off his new bike. That younger version of him sat his mother’s lap in front of a birthday cake lit with thirty-some odd candles. Much like the way he held you in that moment, his father stood behind the pair with his arms around his wife. She wore a dazzling smile that his aunts swore he inherited from her. If he remembered correctly, his father was behind the camera, muttering something that made them all laugh at the time.

“She was beautiful,” you commented. Lost for words, Javier pressed a kiss to your temple. But the mood clearly shifted. “And you were adorable.” Your eyes narrowed as you looked back at him. “What do you think happened?”

Javier grinned at your dig. “She would’ve liked you.”

You reached for the only other framed photograph. A more recent shot of Javier and an equally mustachioed blond man sitting together at an open-air bar, both looking unusually relaxed and happy with a beer in one and their arms around each other’s shoulders. One of the rare moments like that in Colombia. “This must be Steve,” you observed.

“His wife sent me that as a housewarming gift.”

“That’s so nice of her. You need something to cheer this place up.” Still clutching the photo, you turned in his arms. “Do you– I don’t know if I’ll ever get to meet them, but do you think they would like me?”

He almost laughed at your question. It was genuine on your part but so absurdly unnecessary. “Mi compañera,” he murmured as he pressed his lips to yours, “they already do. They were surprised though.”

“Do I want to know why?” you smirked. He had a feeling you already had some inclination as to why that might’ve surprised his closest friends.

“No,” Javier laughed. He watched you as you smiled at the photo, tracing a fingertip along the image of him. A strange feeling gripped his chest. It was as if you were trying to know that version of him. “You never talk about it. I know you don’t like when others ask you about your time in Colombia, but you never even mention anything that happened down there to me.”

“You don’t want to know about any of that.”

“Why not?”

Because you won’t like me, his traitorous brain supplied. He let you go and joined Sunny on the couch. “Want me to put on the Times Square thing?” he asked instead.

“Yeah sure. I don’t mind either way,” you responded lightly. He cringed inwardly at how habituated you were to him deflecting your questions. Shaking his head at himself, he dug the remote out from between two of the leather couch cushions and switched on the television despite having no intention to watch.

A moment later you joined him on the couch, dropping down next to him unceremoniously as you draped an arm around him. “Don’t mope,” you compelled with a kiss on his cheek. He turned to you with a raised brow. “And don’t look at me like that.”

Javier held your gaze for a long time, entranced by the soft look in your eyes and the way your fingers played with the ends of his hair at the nape of his neck. That seemed to bring him back to the present moment. “How does pizza sound?” he asked instead of a reply.

As expected, you smiled and nodded happily.

… . …

Much like your own at home, Javier’s kitchen table was covered with stacks of books, papers, and folders. Rather than clearing it off, the two of you sat on the floor around his coffee table eating pizza slices straight from the box. With the television muted in the background, you talked quietly, mostly recounting the little things that had happened while you were apart. You asked him more questions about his family, and he seemed keen to answer. You’d learned to savor every bit of himself that he elected to share with you.

After dinner, you wandered over to the unsurprisingly well-stocked bar cart, fingers dancing over the crystal glasses and bottles of whiskey and tequila as you contemplated pouring a couple of drinks. Until you noticed something amongst the mess on his kitchen table.

You picked up a book with dozens of sticky notes peeking out of it and flipped through the pages.

Talk about this in lecture.

Assign this chapter next quarter.

Fuck. She’s brilliant.

The notes went on for pages and pages. When you finally lifted your head, finding him across the room through watery eyes, Javier looked like a boy caught red handed. His wide brown eyes locked on to you as he gauged your reaction. “You’re reading my book?” you asked, voice barely more than a whisper.

He nodded quietly. “I finished it. It’s amazing.”

“Ja– Javi.” You attempted to speak but his name was just a broken sob.

He was on his feet in an instant. With a hand on either arm, he attempted to soothe you. “Don’t cry.”

“I’m not crying,” you insisted as you roughly wiped at your cheek with the back of your hand.

“Honey,” he chided as he pulled your hand away and replaced it with his own, cupping your cheek and wiping your errant tears with his thumb. “Why does that upset you?”

“I’m not upset.”

“You’re crying.” He would think that. He’d never seen you cry before. You’d cried from laughing at something he’d said on more than one occasion. There were a few tears once when you were frustrated. But nothing like this.

“That– that doesn’t mean I’m upset. It’s just– That’s–” you tried to collect yourself as you fisted the front of his shirt with one hand and pulled him closer. You took a deep breath and met his gaze. “That’s the most romantic thing anyone’s ever done for me.”

The scrunched up look on his face was almost comical, and you would’ve laughed any other time. “That is?” he asked, dumbfounded. Before he could say anything else, you slotted your mouth with his, kissing him with everything you had. “Of course I read your book,” he assured you, kissing you over and over again. Your body practically melted against his. “You’re fucking amazing, mi compañera” His hands moved to your face, wiping away the tears. “Are you sure you’re okay? You’re... you’re crying again. What’s wrong?”

“I think I–” You stopped yourself. Or rather the words threatened to choke you, so you swallowed them down and hid them away. Instead, you caressed his face as you looked at him through half-lidded eyes. “I need you.”

Javier hesitated, watching you for a moment longer, eyes smoldering as they bored into your soul, before his mouth met yours with renewed determination.

You didn’t even bother looking around Javier’s bedroom as the two of you burst through the door. The two of you were a mess of limbs desperately trying to strip the other of their clothes. He walked you back toward the bed until your calves hit the frame.

“Why are you still holding this?” he asked, prying the book out of your hand and tossing it on his nightstand. He lifted your thick knit sweater off your body and over your head with ease and his hands quickly found the button of your black denim jeans while you worked on his shirt buttons.

As soon as your clothes had fallen aside, he laid you back in his bed, letting you rest against the pillows as he eagerly kissed a frenzied path down your body.

“Javi, wait.” He froze above you with concern in his eyes “Please be gentle with me,” you asked softly.

The implication was clear. And it weighed heavily between you.

Javier nodded once, almost imperceptibly, and you relinquished yourself to him. He changed course, and his lips found yours once more. While he kissed you, his fingers gently prodded you, stretching you out and readying your body for him. You whimpered against hip lips, wanting more than anything to feel him inside you.

“Shh, baby,” he shushed you huskily, intertwining your fingers in a tender gesture, “I’ve got you now.” You spread your legs wider, aching for him. Only him. And mercifully, he lined himself at your entrance, dripping with your desire, and slowly thrust forward, filling you to the hilt and stealing the air from your lungs.

As he moved inside you, every kiss, every touch seared your skin with invisible brands that would mark you forever as belonging to Javier. And you let him.

Neither of you said much of anything, preferring to simply breath each other in. You let the moans and mewls falling from your lips fill the room as your bodies rejoined and relearned each other. Hand in hand and warm skin on warm skin.

Until a wave of euphoria pulled you asunder and you came hard and shaking beneath him.

“You’re so beautiful. So fucking beautiful.” You only heard his murmurs of praise as you broke the surface and came up for air. He kissed away the teardrops streaking your cheeks. You tried weakly to apologize for crying again. “It’s okay,” he assured you, “I feel it too.”

You gaped at him as you watched him move above you, still buried deep inside you, chest heaving and some unspoken emotion drowning his eyes. You wanted him to feel everything that you did in that moment. Wanted to make him to feel the same sticky sweet pleasure

With little resistance, you pushed Javier onto his back and straddled his hips. He looked divine beneath you. His hands reverently caressed your back as you settled on top of him before snaking around your body to hold you tightly against him. You pressed your forehead to his as you rolled your hips, sliding up and down his cock and coating him with your creamy pussy.

Only when his chest hallowed with a broken, desperate groan did you finally take pity and sink down on him. You caught his sharp exhale with your lips. You focused on kissing him, pouring all your affection into him, and he slowly rocked up into you. It was unrushed and unhurried, as if the two of you had all the time in the world. Maybe you did.

“I need you to cum with me. Right now.” His fingers found your clit, coaxing a second climax from you.

“Let go for me,” you whispered against his ear.

Javier shattered beautifully under your touch.

… . …

Javier pulled back the bedsheets for you as you slipped back into bed next to him after spending way too long in a steaming hot shower together. “Did you bring these for me?” he asked, fingering the fabric of your satin sleep shorts with a lopsided grin. Dozens of little embroidered dogs dotted the fabric.

“Yes,” you chirped. “They always seem to make you smile.”

He shook his head at you. “No, honey, you make me smile.”

When he said things like that, he took the breath right out of your lungs. The rest of the world faded away and nothing else mattered. It was only the two. It was then that you noticed the time on the clock behind him. Time hadn’t stopped after all. In fact, it was 12:01 on the dot.

“Happy New Year, Javi,” you said with a smile. “I think this is going to be a really good year.”

“I do too,” he agreed. He cupped your cheek and guided your lips to his for a midnight kiss. “Happy New Year, baby. Now c’mere.”

You laughed as Sunny responded to his command. She seemed to appear from nowhere only to hop up on the bed and lay half on top of him with her head on his chest. “Yeah, you too,” he smiled, scratching behind her ears. You indulged for a moment, hoping you could commit the scene to memory. But Javier looked like he was on the verge of sleep, so you switched off the small lamp and happily curled up next to him. He draped an arm across your waist as you looked up at him. “I fucking missed my girls,” he mumbled before drifting off into a dream. You couldn’t help but smile to yourself as you watched him in the faint moonlight.

You weren’t sure if it was the holiday season or that magical stroke of midnight, but as you gazed up at him, you realized you didn’t just want Javier to be your yesterday, today or tomorrow. You wanted him to be your whole future. You wanted to spend your whole life with him because…

Your heart belonged to Javier Peña. You loved him. Truly, deeply loved him.

That thought didn’t scare you as much as you thought it would.

... . ...

Thank you for reading!

... . ...

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[nwbeerguide]

To support the Brave Noise initiative and support the Domestic Violence Resource Center (Beaverton), Breakside Brewing & Von Ebert Brewing release Brave Noise pale ale.

Press Release

image courtesy Von Ebert Brewing

PORTLAND, Ore. - March 29, 2022 - Von Ebert Brewing, winner of the 2021 Oregon Beer Awards’ Medium Size Brewery of the Year, and Breakside Brewery, winner of the 2021 Oregon Beer Awards’ Large Brewery of the Year, have partnered to produce their version of the Brave Noise Pale Ale, which is part of the worldwide Brave Noise Beer Movement.

Brave Noise is a global beer collaboration started by Brienne Allan, formerly a brewer at Notch Brewing and now co-founder and head brewer of brewery-in-planning, Sacred Profane Brewing, to advocate for safe spaces and inclusive environments within the beer industry. 

To participate in the collaboration, breweries must show transparency in their policies prohibiting gender discrimination, racism, sexual assault, and harassment, publicly posting their code of conduct and resources both digitally and physically for all staff and customers to see. 

Additionally, breweries must commit to doing the long term work that supports the mission of Brave Noise by providing relevant support and services for employees and customers, such as sexual harassment training and diversity training. Each brewery must also make a donation to a verified non-profit organization that reflects the mission of the Brave Noise initiative.

Von Ebert, led by brewer Madeleine McCarthy, and Breakside, led by Research and Development Brewer, Natalie Rose Baldwin, together brewed a bright, crisp pale ale, using Azacca, Citra, Strata, and El Dorado hops. The 4.5% ABV beer offers notes of pink starbursts, fruit punch, and passionfruit.

A portion of the proceeds from the collaboration will benefit the Domestic Violence Resource Center in Beaverton, OR, a nonprofit that has been in operation since 1977, offering counseling, shelter, transition and permanent housing, community education, training and safety planning, and advocacy and empowerment tools to anyone experiencing domestic violence.

“Making the craft beer industry safer and more inclusive for all people is important to both of our breweries,” commented McCarthy. “Participating in the Brave Noise collaboration is a great way to take initiative and make the change we want to see. We’re really excited to release this beer and raise some awareness for the Domestic Violence Resource Center.”

“Maddy and I have looked forward to working together and are happy that the opportunity to create a beer is for the Brave Noise cause,” expressed Rose Baldwin. “This collaboration represents the forward social momentum that we expect of our peers both in and out of the beer industry. Cheers to working for a more equitable and discrimination free industry one beer at a time.” 

The Von Ebert/Breakside iteration of Brave Noise will be available on draft at the Von Ebert Glendoveer and Pearl brewpubs beginning on March 30, as well as at select Breakside locations.

About Breakside Brewery Breakside Brewery opened in 2010 in Northeast Portland as a restaurant and pub brewery. The brewery is known for its innovative, experimental and diverse beers. In 2013, Breakside expanded operations to Milwaukie, OR with a 30 bbl production brewery filled with 30, 60 and 120 barrel tanks, barrel rooms for wild and non-wild/sour fermentations, a high-speed bottling line and a 24-tap tasting room. The brewery expanded to Northern California in 2016 and in 2017 Breakside opened its third location in the Slabtown district of Northwest Portland. In addition to winning several national and regional awards for its beers, Breakside was named Brewery of the Year at the 2019 and 2017 Oregon Beer Awards and the 2018 Best of Craft Beer Awards. Breakside sells on draft and in 22oz bottles in Oregon, Washington, Hawaii, Arizona, Colorado, Idaho, North Carolina, South Carolina, Massachusetts, Northern California, British Columbia and Alberta.  About Von Ebert Brewing Von Ebert Brewing, winner of Brewery of the Year, Medium Size, at the 2021 Oregon Beer Awards, sits at the crossroads where storied traditions meet bold new ideas in brewing. Independently owned and operated, the Portland, OR-based brewery produces award-winning beers in a variety of styles. Von Ebert beers have received medals at numerous competitions, world-class ratings from top blind tasting panels, and recognition as one of the top 20 beers in the world over the past year. In addition to modern IPAs and crisp lagers, the oak-aged, bottle-conditioned Heritage beer program sets the brewery apart. All of the beers pair perfectly with the elevated American pub cuisine served at both brewpub locations. For more information, please visit www.vonebertbrewing.com. 

from Northwest Beer Guide - News - The Northwest Beer Guide https://bit.ly/36YjXmR

#Beer #News #Brewery

[chaotic-tired-bastard]

Coffee for Two

Coffee Shop AU for Nori and Bofur!!!

It was a rainy day. Bofur usually liked rainy days, they always made him feel like sitting down and carving something with a hot cup of coffee or cider by his side. But he couldn’t do that, not today. Because today, he was working. Well, not really. There hadn’t been anyone in the café for at least an hour.

He was utterly and completely bored out of his mind. When he offered to fill in for his brother, Bombur, at his café, he thought it would have been a breeze. Bofur got along with people well, it was one of his many natural traits that made him all the more likeable. But being in an empty coffee shop for an hour isn’t the most entertaining thing ever. Especially when you’re the only staff there.

Had he not been working; he would have pulled out his phone and been playing on it for at least thirty minutes by now. But he didn’t, because his phone was in his (temporary) locker, along with his rings and gloves. He was thankful that he had been allowed to keep his hat, at least.

He was contemplating heading into the back to get his phone when he heard the rev of an engine. He looked from where he had just finished restocking the cream to see someone ride into the parking lot on a motorcycle. He frowned, thinking, Poor soul. Even I’d not like to be caught outside in this weather.

He watched the owner stumble to the door and mentally prepared himself. Usually, soaking wet people aren’t the politest, even on the best of days. But, regardless, he had to stop himself from sucking in a deep breath at the sight of the man.

His hair was soaking, but still held up in its braid; a single one running down the middle of his head. His wet hair must have been originally an orange-brownish colour, but at the time it looked more to be a soggy brown. He had a small, but well-groomed beard. He was dressed in figure-hugging black jeans, a grey t-shirt, a loose leather jacket, and black combat boots. He was a sight, and definitely not a bad one.

His sharp, amber eyes scanned the room and came to a rest on Bofur. He gave him a quick once-over before approaching the counter. “Are ya still open?” He asked Bofur, his Scottish lilt making Bofur repress a shudder.

“Aye, we are. Can I get ya anything?” Bofur replied.

The man gazed at the board hung up behind Bofur, studying what there was to have. Finally, he said, “I’ll have an Iced Latte, preferable with a shot of whiskey if you have any,” he said, starting to fish around in his pocket for his wallet.

“Aye, I can do that. What’s the name for the order?” Bofur asked, praying that he wouldn’t trip over his words like he usually did with attractive men.

The man pulled out his wallet and stared at Bofur. “Uhh... Nori,” He cautiously said.

“Alright, Nori, I’ll have this out in a jiffy,” Bofur said, smiling.

Nori handed Bofur ten dollars and he got to work. Nori went to a small table and pulled out his phone. Bofur would have liked to stare at him, but he had a coffee to make.

It didn’t take too long to make Nori’s order. On a normal day, it would have been around ten minutes. Today, however, it only took five. When Bofur finished, he poured it into a cup and wrote on it, ‘Nori’, trying to keep his usually scratchy handwriting neat.

He decided that, seeing that three were no other vehicles in the parking lot and that there weren’t any that were going to appear soon, he should make himself a drink. And he did just that. He filled his cup with hot water and put a teabag into it. He usually didn’t go for tea, but this type was the only exception. He capped their cups and walked over, a cup in each hand.

Nori looked up as he approached, suspicion flashing in his eyes as he caught sight of the extra cup. “I only ordered one,” Nori cautiously said as Bofur sat in the chair across from him.

“Ya did. This one here’s mine,” Bofur said, setting Nori’s cup in front of him and taking a sip of his own.

“Oh,” Nori said, taking a sip of his coffee.

His eyes went wide. “Wow. How is this so good? Are ya a wizard or somethin’?” Nori asked, looking at his coffee in shock.

Bofur laughed. “Ah, no, I’m not a wizard. I just have lots of experience with this sort of thing. And I used good whiskey, not the cheap trash kind,” He chuckled, bringing his tea to his lips and sipping.

“Aww, I happen to like the cheap trash kind,” Nori teased, smirking.

“Well then, my friend, I think that’s a you problem,” Bofur teased right back, smiling warmly.

Nori frowned. “I just met ya. And I have no idea what yer name is,” he said, peering over his cup.

“Well, I can’t have that! I’m Bofur, Bofur Broadbeam. And I never got yer full name?” Bofur said, reaching out his hand for Nori to shake.

Nori shook it and replied, “I’m Nori Rison. It’s nice to meet ya, Bofur,” his eyes glimmering with something unknown.

Bofur decided that he wanted to figure it out.

꧁☕꧂︎

Bofur didn't expect to ever see Nori again. But he kept seeing him everywhere. He noticed that Nori frequented a favourite pub of his, as well as the same grocery store and same library. How had he not noticed him till now?

The first few times, he didn't say anything. He didn't want to look like a creep, especially not to one of the most handsome men he had ever met.

The second time, though, Nori saw him. They chatted for a while about something until Nori got a notification on his phone. He read it and frowned. They then bid each other goodbye.

Each interaction left Bofur's head spinning. He didn't mind it, though. Neither did Nori, he assumed, because he would sometimes seek Bofur out while at places they normally met at. Bofur had seen him peeking in Aisles at the grocery store and looking for him at the bar. Bofur wasn't guilty of this as well, definitely not. Okay, fine, sometimes he did.

But what was the harm in it? Nori was handsome and funny and smart... but that didn’t mean that Bofur couldn’t be friends with him. And maybe, if he got lucky and scored a date with him, that wouldn’t be all that bad.

꧁☕꧂︎

It had only been a month since Nori had met Bofur, and he was already in love. He was in love with his twinkling eyes, his intoxicating, even his stupid hat. That had scared him at first; it had taken an entire week for him to be able to face Bofur with this in mind. Since then, Nori had started his subtle advances; buying Bofur beers, giving him a new whittling knife, finding him that type of tea he liked, and so much more.

But Bofur hadn’t responded in any way that proved that he was interested! So here Nori was, sitting at a corner table at a bar and calling his brothers for help, something he never thought he would do. He sat for a few rings before he heard Dori pick up the phone. “Nori? Did you get in trouble with the police again?” Dori sighed; Nori could almost hear him facepalming.

“No, Dori, I didn’t. Is Ori there?” He asked.

“Mhm. I’ll put you on speaker.”

“Hi Nori!” Ori called, making Nori huff in amusement.

“Hey. So, it might seem...unusual... but I need yer help,” Nori said.

He could hear Ori fall off of whatever he was sitting on, probably the couch. “Nori, what on earth would you ever need our help with?” Ori cried, probably from the floor.

“SHH, you’ll tell the whole world! And I need advice,” Nori hissed.

“What do you need advice on?” Dori asked, keeping his voice at a comfortable volume.

Nori flushed red. “I need relationship advice. You both have had relationships; you have to have some wisdom to pass on!” He sighed, putting a hand on his red cheek.

He could hear Dori repressing a snicker. “Okay, so here’s what you’re going to do...”

꧁☕꧂︎

Bofur sat at the pub booth, twiddling his fingers as he waited for Nori. His gift lay in his lap, cleverly covered by his jacket. He hadn’t been too worried when Nori called, asking to meet up, and he wasn’t worried now. Actually, thrilled would be a better word.

Nori seemingly appeared from nowhere and sat down across from him. Bofur smiled brightly and Nori returned it, although a bit more shyly. "So... I'm guessing yer wondering why I wanted to meet..." Nori said, looking at his hands.

Bofur hummed in agreement. Nori took a deep breath and said, "Well, I'm in love."

Bofur felt his heart stop. How... how? How could he be so unlucky to fall for someone who had already fallen for someone else? "Aye?" He said and forced a smile, trying to be supportive.

"Yeah," Nori said, not meeting his eyes and smiling shyly.

"Who is it? Do I know them or did you fall fer a random person on the street?" Bofur asked, trying to sound cheerful.

"Kinda? A bit of both, actually."

"Ah. How long have you known them?"

"I've known him for a few months, but he's just amazing."

"Is he good to you?"

"The best. Just being around him makes me smile."

"Well, I guess this is of no use then," Bofur laughed sadly.

Nori cocked his head, a sudden look of doubt in his eyes. "What isn't of use?" He asked.

Bofur waved the box with his present inside. "Thought you were interested... guess I was wrong," he sighed.

He went to stand up, but Nori grabbed his wrist, making him stop. "What makes you think I'm not interested, Bofur? I've been describing you," he desperately said, blushing furiously.

Bofur blushed a bright red. He gulped, "Really?"

"Really. So, what I guess I'm saying is, Bofur will you date me?" Nori asked, grinning nervously.

Bofur was silent for a moment, processing what Nori said in a stunned silence. Finally, he grinned. "Of course, ya dolt," he said, grinning.

Nori let out a sigh of relief and grinned, wholly and purely happy. Bofur slid into the seat Nori was sitting in, snuggling up to him and letting out a happy sigh. "I believe you had something for me?" Nori asked, throwing an arm around his shoulders.

"Hm? Oh, yeah. Here you go," Bofur said, handing Nori the box.

Nori shook it playfully, shooting Bofur a grin, to which he giggled. Nori then opened it and gasped.

He lifted out a beautiful dagger, his eyes wide in surprise. The hand carved handle was a oak, some runic patterns carved around and on the hilt. The bale was sheathed, but Nori could tell it was sharp "Oh, Bofur, it's beautiful," Nori breathed, studying the blade with awe.

"Well, I thought I might make you somethin that reminded me of ya," Bofur hummed, his head on Nori's shoulder.

"You big old sap," Nori chuckled, pressing a kiss to Bofur's forehead.

"Oi, I think ya missed," Bofur said, pointing to his lips with a smile.

"My bad," Nori purred and pressed a kiss to Bofur's lips.

Bofur grinned into the kiss, content with the feel of his lips against Nori's. He sat up a bit, trying to get a better angle. Nori gently pushed him back down and hugged him, breaking the kiss to grin. "Wanna get a beer?"

"After you, my love."

#nori the dwarf #bofur #nori x bofur #bofur x nori #Stolen Hats

[whumpzone]

Tomas and Rowe - Part 8

this chapter was a trial and a half to clean up but the support from you guys gave me the final boost i needed! youre all the best

also… no harm to people with eyebrow piercings. i personally really like them lmao. i just needed an example of something that would be considered a bit ‘out there’ in your typical boring office :’D

Masterpost

taglist: @sola-whumping @just-another-whumper @oceanthesarcasamfox @looptheloup @briars7 @black-polarf @zipadeedooda-drabbles @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @rosesareviolentlyread @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @jazz-0307 @kestrelsparverius @whumpsy-daisies @whumpersworld @memoriesneverforget @sky-or-something-idfk @ghostcomit (just ask if you want to be tagged!)

CW: pet whump, dehumanisation, alcohol + descriptions of being drunk, swearing 

- 

‘’Ah, fuck,’’ muttered Tomas, his eyes hovering over the calendar pinned to the fridge with a magnet. Rowe looked up from where he was kneeling on a thin cushion- a compromise since he wouldn’t sit on the furniture.

‘’Master?’’

‘’You know when you get so used to seeing something that you stop really looking at it?’’ he said as he picked up the two freshly-made mugs of tea and walked over to Rowe, ‘’Turns out my old workmate is coming over for drinks tonight. Totally forgot.’’

He set Rowe’s mug on the floor beside him, looking over his shoulder at the paper he was writing on. ‘’Good work. That R is backwards though, watch out for that. Easy mistake to make.’’

‘’Th-thank you, Master, I’ll do better.’’

‘’You’re doing fine,’’ he said, patting his shoulder gently. Rowe flinched, as always, but only slightly. ‘’I’ll have to see what the booze situation in the fridge is. I hope I don’t have to go to the shop. I just made tea.’’

‘’Is he coming for food too, Master?’’

Tomas shook his head, looking at Rowe. What the fuck am I going to do with you tonight?

Ever since he had seen those cuts on Rowe, standing out against the myriad of fading bruises, scarring wounds and old burns, he hadn’t been able to let him out of his sight for very long. Luckily, Rowe hadn’t noticed anything out of the ordinary. Tomas supposed it was perfectly natural to keep your Pet near you, ready to submit to any command or punishment demanded of them.

‘’Nah. If it’s alright, Rowe, I’d like you to stay downstairs while he’s visiting. I might need you.’’

…

Master wants to show me off, thought Rowe proudly. Finally, this was something he understood. He was trusted to entertain Master and his friend! This was a chance to prove what a good Pet he could be.

‘’Of course, Master.’’

‘’You don’t mind?’’

Master Tomas asked the strangest things sometimes, Rowe thought. Not that he would ever dare question his Master. But he didn’t understand the point of asking for his opinion like it mattered. Still, he was good at giving the right answer and making Master happy.

‘’No, Master.’’

Sure enough, he smiled, and gave Rowe another pat on the shoulder. Rowe tried not to squirm too much- Master couldn’t have known that he was touching Rowe right where Kasia had cut him, and the pain was a good reminder that no matter how happy Master seemed with him, he wasn’t to get complacent. He did his best to smile back, and Master looked even happier.

When his old master hosted parties, it was always understood that Rowe would serve everyone present. Anyone was able to give him orders, regardless of whether or not his master was in the room. He could only assume it would be the same here.

After they’d eaten, Master went upstairs to ‘get himself looking presentable’, as he described it, and Rowe tidied up. Catching himself in the mirror by the staircase, Rowe swept his hair out of his eyes and brushed down his shirt with his hands like he’d seen Master Tomas do on occasions. Master’s friend was due any moment, so Rowe settled himself down at the back of the room, and focused on being blank, obedient, and well-behaved.

-

Out of the corner of his eye, Rowe could see Master straightening his shirt one last time before going to open the front door. He heard various pleasantries being exchanged, and the door clicking shut.

Rowe wouldn’t dare look up, but he couldn’t ignore the way the footsteps suddenly stopped as Adam entered the house.

‘’So what have I missed since y- whoa, you have a Pet?’’

‘’I- uh,’’ Master began. Rowe’s eyebrows twitched. He didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but it was impossible to ignore when it was the only sound he could hear. ‘’Not really, I mean, okay, I might have. He’s not really a Pet, per se, I mean, he’s-‘’

‘’Mate, that is obviously a Pet. Don’t be embarrassed!’’

Master sighed. ‘’Okay, yeah, I’ve got a Pet.’’

Was Master ashamed of him? He shouldn’t have even listened, but something in him sank nonetheless. A pair of feet appeared on the floor before him, and then a hand grabbed his cheek, pulling his face up. He kept his eyes on the ground meekly as Adam looked him over, turning his face side to side.

‘’A real-life Pet. Never thought you were the type, Tomas.’’ Adam peered over Rowe’s shoulder. ‘’Err… no collar? He must be, uh, well trained.’’

His voice was heavy in sarcasm and questioning, and Rowe felt like he’d done something really, really, bad.

‘’He is.’’ Master Tomas said. A warning, Rowe thought to himself. He didn’t need to be told twice. He wouldn’t do anything to upset his owner on an important night.

‘’How on Earth did you afford one? Is it second-hand?’’

‘’Yeah. It was an- uh, impulse decision. I bought him off Kasia.’’

‘’That lowlife?’’ Rowe could practically see Adam’s raised eyebrow in his tone.

‘’Hey, he’s my friend!’’

‘’Come on, Tomas, we’ve all heard the rumours. He could well have sold you a defect.’’

‘’Don’t be rude. And don’t call him a defect,’’ Master Tomas gestured to Rowe, and it took everything in him to not flinch. Tonight was a test, he reminded himself. ‘’He’s right there.’’

There was a pause, and Rowe’s eyes flicked up just enough to see Adam giving Master a very disrespectful look.

‘’It’s only a Pet, mate. You’re spending too much time indoors if you think it’s gonna get hurt feelings.’’

‘’Whatever.’’ Rowe was probably mistaken, he was only a Pet after all, but something in Master’s voice sounded… shaky.

Adam laughed, and tightened his grip on Rowe’s face. ‘’Hey. You’re not listening, are you, Pet?’’

Rowe shook his head desperately, wishing the attention would shift onto something, anything else. He could feel Master’s eyes on him. Adam released his grip and patted Rowe’s cheek roughly.

‘’Go and sit down, Adam.’’

‘’Don’t have to tell me twice. I’ve been looking forward to getting some drinks in me.’’

‘’Yes, yes, hint taken. Coming right up,’’ Master laughed tightly. Rowe dropped his head back down, but Master’s feet lingered in front of him for a few seconds. Long enough that a prickle of fear ran through him. What? What is it? What have I done wrong? Is Master displeased? Do I look ugly? Is that why Master is ashamed of me? I’m not a defect, I promise. Please don’t throw me out.

Eventually, all Master did was ruffle Rowe’s hair, and walk over to join Adam.

…

The night drew on, and the neat lines of empty bottles by the sofa grew longer, and wonkier. Tomas’s head felt ten times as heavy as he slumped back, holding his newly-finished bottle of cider upside down in triumph. Adam cheered and quickly finished up his lager, clinking the two bottles together and messily trying to line them up with the rest on the floor.

‘’What else have I missed at the office?’’

‘’Ahhh…’’ Adam grunted as he thought. ‘’Georgie pierced Dennis’s eyebrow after he lost a bet.’’

‘’Oh my god.’’

‘’He looks awful!’’ Adam cried with far too much force. He fell back laughing at his own loudness, reaching for another bottle but grabbing thin air. ‘’Wuh- got any more beers mate?’’

‘’I….. think so?’’

‘’Pet!’’ Adam shouted suddenly. Tomas would have jumped if he wasn’t so drunk. Rowe appeared by Adam’s side, dropping to his knees once more. Adam batted a hand around in annoyance. ‘’Don’t bother kneeling mate, you’re just about to get back up again.’’

‘’Sir?’’ Rowe asked evenly. Tomas watched Adam warily.

‘’More beers.’’

Rowe nodded and rose gracefully. Adam turned to Tomas as he left and snorted.

‘’Its not bad, I’ll give that to you. I wish people at work called me sir.’’

‘’He’s not an ‘it’,’’ Tomas mumbled, rolling his eyes.

‘’Huh?’’ said Adam, leaning in. Before Tomas could answer, though, Rowe returned with two bottles in his hands. Tomas faltered. He knew the opinion people like Adam held on ‘Pet libbers’. Some people even considered trying to treat a Pet like a human akin to abuse. Went against their ‘natural role’, apparently. Tomas thought it was a load of shit.

‘’I said people at work call you a thick bastard,’’ said Tomas, reaching over Adam to grab the drinks from Rowe, nodding at him while he did so. Rowe retreated back to the corner of the room. Adam grinned at Tomas’s joke and playfully snatched the lager from Tomas.

‘’Well they’re about to start calling you… fucking… Pet having wanker,’’ slurred Adam, howling and fumbling with the bottle opener.

‘’Fuck you,’’ Tomas laughed, wagging a finger at him. ‘’One more crack outta you sunshine and I’ll give you an eyebrow piercing.’’

Adam snorted and the two of them fell about.  Adam’s head slumped to the side, and he suddenly sat straight up.

‘’Where’s your Pet gone?’’

‘’Out of our way, idiot.’’

‘’Dude, I never even thought I’d see a Pet. At least let me have a bit of fun with it.’’

‘’What does that mean?’’

Adam ignored him. ‘’Pet!’’ he called, trying unsuccessfully to snap his fingers. Rowe again appeared and knelt among the discarded bottles.

‘’You’re drunk,’’ Tomas groaned.

‘’So are you. And I wanna put my feet up.’’

Rowe complied without hesitation. He got on his hands and knees in front of Adam, keeping his back straight and not making a sound as Adam roughly slung his legs over him.

‘’Wow, he already knew what I wanted. I bet you do this shit all the time,’’ Adam said, raising the bottle to his face. Tomas looked between Adam and Rowe. He knew Rowe’s back was still healing from the wounds his old owner had given him. Should he say something? Rowe’s face didn’t betray any pain- he looked blank, and calm, and Tomas considered how humiliated he might be if Tomas tried to step in and protect him. He’d take it as his Master not thinking he’s useful.

‘’He just-‘’ Tomas mirrored Adam, taking a drink, although his head was beginning to pound and his eyes kept closing by themselves. ‘’He mostly just helps with chores and stuff.’’

‘’Are you for real? I thought the whole point of a Pet was that you didn’t have to do any chores.’’

‘’A Pet does whatever their Master wants,’’ slurred Tomas, unsticking his lip from the inside of the bottle neck. ‘’And I want him to just- fuckin’- help.’’

‘’I’ve wanted to ask this all night,’’ Adam interjected suddenly, ‘’and now I’m drunk enough to.’’ He rolled onto his side, his feet still weighing on Rowe, and pointed his lager at Tomas. ‘’Do you- oh, I’m so embarrassed- do you torture it real bad like those people on the news? Cause, listen, no judgement if you do, I actually have a lot of stuff annoying me and it seems like a great way to get it off your chest, so…’’

Tomas grimaced. ‘’I do not.’’

‘’Alright, alright, I figured you weren’t like that. You’re a diplomatic guy.’’ Adam leant forward and slapped Rowe’s head roughly. ‘’You’re a lucky mutt! Now, let’s have another drink.’’

Adam dragged his feet off Rowe’s back to let him get up, while his latest empty bottle rolled along the floor. Tomas glanced at the clock. It was two in the morning.

‘’Here, are you tir-‘’ he was cut off as Rowe, on his walk back to Adam, caught his foot on a rogue bottle and fell crashing to the ground, the bottle in his hand smashing and beer foaming everywhere. Tomas and Adam staggered to their feet, Tomas pushing past him to pick Rowe up off the floor. He almost fell over himself; standing up suddenly had made him realise just how drunk he was. He could hardly see as he held Rowe’s elbow and lifted him up.

‘’Rowe, you good? Did any of the glass cut you?’’

‘’N-no, I’m s-s-so sorry M-Master-‘’

‘’Butterfingers!’’ howled Adam, delighted. ‘’That is gonna be a bitch to clean up. Cute nickname too. Rowe? You’re soft as hell.’’

‘’He’s hardly got butterfingers you pisshead, my whole floor is covered in bottles. I’d like to see you not trip.’’

‘’Calm down,’’ scoffed Adam, now satisfied that Rowe didn’t have any exciting injuries. He sat back down heavily. ‘’How’re you gonna punish it?’’

‘’Ugh, fuck off.’’

‘’I’m serious, mate. There’s glass everywhere.’’

Tomas’s head was ringing, his vision was blurry at best and he was pretty sure he was going to throw up.

‘’Why are you so keen to get involved?’’

‘’Because frankly Tomas you’re acting like a fuckin’ wetwipe,’’ Adam snapped, ‘’I mean, Christ, I’ll do it if you can’t.’’

Tomas had hoped Adam wouldn’t reach the point in the night where the booze made him aggressive. There was no way he was letting him hurt Rowe. An idea came to him. He knew it was a bad idea. But he was so drunk, and so desperate to sleep, that he couldn’t think of any other option.

‘’Oh I’m going to punish him alright,’’ he slurred. Rowe froze under his grip. He led him away from the glass, to the clear floor behind the sofa. ‘’I just didn’t know if you wanted to stay or not.’’

‘’Mas-Master, I-I-I’m sorry, I’m s-s-orry, please f-forgive me-‘’

‘’Be quiet, Rowe,’’ he said firmly. Rowe fell silent with a whimper.

‘’Pfft. You said you don’t torture your Pet.’’

‘’I said I don’t-‘’ Tomas fumbled with his words, ‘’-I said I don’t do it to let off steam. Rowe, take your shirt off.’’

Adam’s smile faltered as he saw the state of Rowe’s chest. Tomas tried to ignore the way Rowe was quivering below him. So there are more cuts, he noted hazily. I will deal with that….later.

‘’Turn around. Let Adam see your whip marks.’’

Rowe obeyed and Adam’s face fell.

‘’What the fuck?’’

Tomas pushed Rowe as gently as he could and Rowe sank to his knees immediately.

‘’I think I’ll find the biggest shard of glass that he just smashed and reopen some of these cuts here,’’ Tomas said, staring hard at Adam. He took a fistful of Rowe’s hair, trying his best not to yank it too hard, guiding Rowe’s head back. He could see the whites of his eyes as stared up at him in terror. ‘’You’re lucky I’m too drunk to take my belt off,’’ Tomas said to him. ‘’Since I can’t whip you, I’ll have to improvise. Adam, you got a lighter?’’

Adam didn’t answer. He stood up, taking a shaky step backwards.

‘’No lighter? No problem. I can just turn the hob on and hold his arm over it. Can’t I?’’ he let Rowe’s hair go and he bowed his head forward, trembling. ‘’Can’t I, Rowe?’’

‘’Y-yes, Master,’’ Rowe whimpered.

‘’You’re fucked up,’’ Adam said.

‘’You said it yourself, mate, that’s gonna buh- be a bitch to clean up. So you staying to watch or not?’’

‘’Fuck that. It’s late. I’m off.’’

Adam grabbed his coat and left without another word. Tomas watched him leave, then stumbled to the front door and locked it behind him.

‘’Thank fuck he’s gone.’’

He grabbed a bottle of water and gulped it down desperately. He would have given anything to just pass out, but the thought of leaving Rowe as he was didn’t even cross his mind. Looking over, he saw how hard he was trembling. His eyes were tightly shut, and he was still kneeling obediently with his arms behind his back. He looked achingly vulnerable.

‘’Rowe-‘’ he started, walking towards him. At the sound of his voice Rowe cried out, collapsing onto the floor with his hands propping him up. As Tomas drew closer, he weakly pulled himself away. It broke his heart to see him so scared. ‘’Rowe, it’s okay, I-‘’ oh god, he was so drunk. Rowe scrambled away from him until he was curled in the corner on the room, his knees tucked up under his chin and his arms hiding his face. Shit.

‘’Rowe, Rowe, I know how that sounded, but please listen,’’ he began, knowing there was no way in Hell Rowe was in any state to listen to reason. Rowe only curled further into himself when Tomas sat down beside him.

‘’I-I’m so- s-so sorry, Mas-Master, I’m s-sorry p-p-please forgive me, pl-please f-forgive me it w-will never happen ag- again I swear, I swear Master, I’m s-sorry, please I’m so sorry…’’ he whimpered, his voice barely audible.

‘’Rowe,’’ he said weakly. Rowe whined in fear and Tomas had never felt more inequipped to handle him. He felt like someone had grabbed his head and was pulling it around with every little movement, making the room spin.

‘’I’ll d-d-d-do anything, anyth-thing just p-please, please f-forgive me, I know I d-don’t deserve it I’m a w-worthless Pet I do-don’t deserve a-any mercy, Master, but please, please, I’ll do anything, I’m sorry, pl-please punish me-‘’

Tomas frowned. He had thought Rowe was so desperately afraid because of the punishment. ‘’Rowe, please, look at me.’’

An order was an order. Rowe lowered his trembling hands just enough to let Tomas see his wide, twitching eyes. ‘’I’m sorry, Master,’’ he whispered. ‘’I was careless.’’

‘’You weren’t, you were obeying an order, it wasn’t your f.. wasn’t your fault. I didn’t mean it.’’

‘’I w-was stupid and I didn’t pay pr-proper attention and I-, I’m sorry, it w-was unacceptable, please- please punish-‘’ Rowe faltered, covering his face again. His last few words were no more than a whimper. ‘’Please punish me, Master.’’

I am a fucking idiot. I am a fucking idiot. What the FUCK was I thinking.

‘’Sit up, pal, sit up. No more kneeling tonight- your legs must be aching. Sit cross legged like me.’’

Normally this would have resulted in at least ten minutes of negotiations, with Rowe protesting, convinced Tomas was issuing him with a test of obedience. But tonight, he complied without a word. Tomas realised he could ask Rowe to stand on his head right now and he would do it without a second thought, if it meant not angering his Master any more.

. . .                                                                                                                  

Rowe had never felt the floor drop away from him the way it did when Master Tomas described his punishment.

He had finally pushed Master Tomas’s infinite patience too far. He had already got away with so much- all his crying, pleading, flinching away, struggling with the simplest order, actually injuring Master, screaming every night. No Pet owner should have to put up with such disobedience.

Master’s kindness was a privilege, and Rowe knew he could revoke it at any time, he knew that everything he had, his bed and food and gentle touches could be snatched away if he did anything to displease his Master.

But then Master had been so forgiving, and gentle, and Rowe had started to think that maybe this could go on forever. But he had fucked it up, he had embarrassed Master in front of his guest, he couldn’t even complete a simple task, Master had given him so many chances and still Rowe had fucked up.

I’ve done it now. I never deserved a Master like him. He’ll toss me out. I’ll be put down for sure. No Pet gets tossed out twice. I’m going to be beaten raw and thrown out.

He couldn’t bear to open his eyes. Instead he listened helplessly as Master walked to the kitchen- to pick out the best bit of glass, Rowe assumed. The fall played over and over in his head: if he had only looked where he was going, if he’d walked slower and been more graceful and less twitchy, if he’d taken another route around the empty bottles. It occurred to him that by the time the bruising on his head formed, he’d either be shivering on the streets, or dead.

He heard his name and irregular footsteps approaching him and Rowe still jumped when Master spoke. Why couldn’t he stop being so pitiful?

Looking up, he saw that Master Tomas’s eyes were half-lidded, and tinged red. Drunk eyes. A drunk Master was always the most frightening kind. A drunk Master couldn’t be predicted. Rowe’s hands hit the floor and he dragged himself away, hardly knowing why. This is why I should be properly restrained, he thought weakly. Maybe he just wanted to draw out the punishment, to put off the far worse fate awaiting him once Master was done.

‘’Rowe, it’s okay, I-‘’

Rowe’s body hit the wall and all he could think to do was curl up and beg. He hadn’t even realised Master was speaking to him until he interrupted him. His stomach flooded with a deep, freezing terror.

‘’Rowe, please, look at me.’’ Master ordered, forced to repeat himself, and this time Rowe managed to shut up and look. His heart was pounding as he let Master see his miserable, apologetic eyes.

‘’I’m s-so sorry, Master. I was careless.’’

‘’You weren’t,’’ said Master. His usually soft voice had a rough, intoxicated edge to it. And what did he mean? ‘’You were obeying an order, it wasn’t your f… wasn’t your fault. I didn’t mean it.’’

Mean what? Why wasn’t Master grabbing Rowe and forcing his face to the ground, screaming at him for even daring to disobey him after what he’d already done? Why wasn’t he cutting him? Rowe suddenly remembered to look at Master’s hands. No glass. Maybe Rowe would have to pick it out himself.

‘’I w-was stupid and I didn’t pay pr-proper attention and I-, I’m sorry, it w-was unacceptable, please- please punish- please punish me, Master,’’ he begged, hiding his filthy, insolent face.

Master was speaking, he realised, and he’d missed half of it, oh god oh god, he couldn’t keep his breathing under control and he knew he should be kneeling but something in him wouldn’t let him move and he was going to get chucked out and he was so so sorry-

‘’-legs must be aching. Sit cross legged like me.’’

Rowe obeyed without hesitation. Whatever Master wanted. Maybe this was important for his punishment. He felt like he might throw up.

‘’Fuck, I’m the one who’s sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m not angry. Look at my eyes- I’m not angry. I just wa- I just wanted him to leave. He was being a fucking twat. I am- I’m so drunk, Rowe. I’m so drunk and I handled that so badly and it wasn’t right. I just wanted to frighten Adam off. But I know it frightened you as well. Is that a fair assum- assump- is that fair? Are you quite frightened right now?’’

‘’Y….yes, Master.’’

Why was Master asking this? Was it not enough to see him trembling, on the brink of tears? Was it not enough to be almost stripped bare, open and exposed before his Master, submitting his body to his owner to punish as he saw fit? His mind was whirling with ways he could explain Kasia’s cuts, dreading the time Master asked where he had got them. He felt so useless. The punishment hadn’t even begun yet and already he was about to cry. His old master would add an extra beating if Rowe cried prematurely.

‘’I won’t hurt you. I promise. In fact-’’ Master reached for Rowe’s t-shirt, like he’d read his mind, ‘’-put this back on, please. Don’t get cold.’’

Rowe obeyed, his hands trembling almost too badly to take the t-shirt from Master’s hand. Master would have to cut him through his t-shirt, then. Perhaps then he’d beat him for ruining his clothes. Master could do that, he could do whatever he wanted. Rowe was just grateful to have his awful cuts covered up. Perhaps- he dared to hope- perhaps Master was too intoxicated to see properly? Perhaps he hadn’t seen them?

Then he remembered that it didn’t matter, anyway. Master was throwing him out. The remembrance was like a stone suddenly sinking into him.

‘’Rowe- why are you frightened?’’

What game was this?

‘’B-because of th-the punishment, Master.’’ He knew that being afraid of a punishment would only get him hurt worse, but he would take any pain, any pain at all, to stay as Master’s Pet. Rowe couldn’t even mention being tossed out. Stupidly, childishly, he didn’t want to say it out loud. Didn’t want to make it real.

‘’But aren’t you used to punishments like this? Do you get this scared every time?’’

‘’N-no!’’ Rowe burst out, pressing his head to the floor, trying to find something in his training to fall back on to navigate this. He couldn’t give Master any more reasons to throw him out. ‘’No, Master, no, I d-don’t, I c-can be good, I can t-take it well, I c-c-can be blank and quiet a-and not m-make a fuss, I promise!’’

‘’It’s okay, it’s okay. I know that. I know how good you are,’’ Master said. Rowe couldn’t understand why his tone sounded so soothing. ‘’But what I wan… want to know is- why is this time different? What’s scared you this time?’’

Before Rowe could even think properly, he whimpered out, ‘’Please… please don’t make me s-say it, Master.’’

Master Tomas’s eyebrows drew together. His eyes blinked open, and he stared at Rowe hard, like keeping his eyes open was a real effort. Rowe felt powerless, cowering in his Master’s gaze. But then the moment passed, and Master closed his eyes and put a hand on Rowe’s arm. Rowe waited for the moment where his Master’s grip would turn painful, but it never came, and when Master took his hand away Rowe found that the absence made him ache.

‘’Rowe. Rowerowerowe. I… I’m sorry. I am not a mind reader. You are gonna have to tell me what else is spooking you. Is it… are you scared of Adam coming back?’’

‘’N-no, Master.’’

Why did Master insist on Rowe saying it?

‘’Then what? How about this- if you tell me what’s wrong, I won’t punish you. How about that.’’

No punishment. Master would go straight to throwing him out. This was what he got for being disobedient. As if he had any right to argue with Master. Rowe scrambled to his knees and ground his forehead into the floor.

‘’Please- please, Master! Please, I d-deserve to be punished, please p-punish me, please!’’

‘’Rowe!’’ Master���s voice cut through him. Rowe had never heard his Master shout like that. He whimpered, keeping his head down. ‘’Rowe, you want to be a good Pet, yes?’’

Rowe nodded desperately.

‘’Then,’’ Master sighed heavily. He sounded so fed up with him. ‘’Then I need you to start cooperating, okay? We can- we can do this slowly. Sit up for me. Good. Now, I know you don’t want to, and if I could avoid it I would, yeah? But you have to tell me what’s wrong. You have to.’’

Rowe felt tears pricking his eyes. ‘’I don’t… I don’t want to be thrown out, Master,’’ he whispered.

There was a long pause. Rowe felt heavy with dread. Was Master going to laugh at him? Or would he order him into the cage he arrived in without another word?

‘’You think I’m going to throw you out?’’

‘’I-I’m a use-useless Pet, Master, I’m sh-shameful and I ca-an’t even follow a s-s-simple task and you don’t-‘’ Rowe began to cry as he forced himself to say it. In a way, it felt cathartic to get it out. ‘’-you don’t n-n-need a broken Pet. I’m no- no good for a-anything, a-a-and you g-gave me so many chances, I’m no good…’’ he choked on a sob and finally, blissfully, broke down entirely. ‘’I can’t e-even answer m-my Master without crying,’’ he moaned. ‘’Serving y-you is a privilege and I haven’t done anything to- anything to earn it.’’

…

Rowe’s raw, vulnerable cries had pulled Tomas out of his drunken haze. The fog in his head was lifting as Tomas began, uncomfortably, to sober up.

‘’What will happen if I throw you out?’’

Rowe looked at him fearfully, and Tomas realised too late that a Pet owner would be expected to know that. This must feel to Rowe like Tomas cruelly reminding him of his fate.

‘’I’ll- I’ll be put down, Master.’’

‘’Ah. Right. Right… okay, Rowe, I know you’re listening. You’re very good at that. I need you to know what I’m saying is all the absolute truth, okay?’’

‘’Yes, y-yes, Master, of course,’’ Rowe replied miserably.

‘’Firstly, I won’t hurt you. I won’t. I made up a punishment to freak Adam out. I’ve never hurt you before so I won’t start now, okay?’’

‘’Okay,’’ Rowe sniffed, glancing up at him with huge wet doe eyes. ‘’Okay, Master.’’

‘’And secondly, I’m not going to throw you out. I care about you, okay?’’ Tomas decided to phrase this in a way Rowe could understand. ‘’If I were going to throw you out, I wouldn’t have spent so much time teaching you to read, would I?’’

Rowe stayed silent, weeping softly, until Tomas pressed him and he choked out an agreement.

‘’Okay. And I wouldn’t have made sure you were eating each day, if I didn’t care about you. If I didn’t want you to stay with me and get better.’’

Get better. Something flashed in Rowe’s eyes and Tomas knew he’d struck the right chord. He was making him good, like Rowe always begged for.

‘’And now that I work from home, you can be my top priority.’’

‘’But I’m…’’ Rowe sobbed, his voice cracking. ‘’I’m j-just a Pet, Master.’’

‘’Nah. You’re Rowe. You’re important to me. I couldn’t just toss you out, you understand?’’

‘’Tha-thank yo-‘’

Before he could finish Rowe was in floods of tears once more, clutching his face and curling in on himself. Tomas’s heart broke and without thinking he pulled Rowe into a hug, the first since he’d got him.

It felt surprisingly normal to be holding his crying Pet, taking care to avoid touching the worst of his injuries. Placing one hand by his shoulder because by now it felt familiar. Slow, gentle movements, keeping his hands flat, keeping his arms loose enough to not constrict him.

‘’It’s okay. I’ve got you.’’

‘’Thank you, yes, I’m yours Master.’’

Tomas smiled weakly. Hundreds of tiny misunderstandings every day, and yet they were coping somehow.

And then Tomas’s body finally gave up and he slumped over, asleep.

#tomas and rowe #whump #pet whump #dehumanisation #whump fic #pet whumpee #aftermath of torture #master/pet #begging

[caravelmp3]

i could drink a case of you, darling

pairing: jake kiszka x female!reader warning(s): alcohol mention, we get a makeout sesh word count: 3k synopsis: (y/n) and jake head back to his place after meeting and hitting it off in a l.a. bar. with vinyls & drinks and a bit of the heat of the moment, things are bound to take off note: hi lovelies !!! this is the first gvf-related writing i have done since becoming a fan and i’m quite nervous about posting it & it’s also the first thing i have wrote in a few months so i hope it’s coherent hahaha :) i hope you all enjoy !! x 

     Warm summer wind whipped (Y/N)’s hair around as she stood on the sidewalk of Hollywood Boulevard. Street lights and neon bar lights filled the sky and the streets below, bouncing off the ground, reflecting in Jake’s dark eyes as she instinctively leaned against him, hand sliding around his forearm for support. They stood among the throngs of people walking the street, those outside of the bar smoking a cigarette or asking for a light, and those standing outside waiting for a chance to dive behind the packed doors of the 70s-esque bar they just escaped from. It seemed like everyone in Los Angeles was spending their Friday night in the city, just like them. 

Jake turned to (Y/N) when she touched the inside of his arm, and he locked the phone in his hand, shoving it back into the pocket of his jacket. “Think the Uber is just around the corner,” he said. 

“Should we tell everyone that we’re leaving?” She asked, using her head to nod in the direction of the bar behind them. Just behind the doors, across the room filled with loud voices and music, their friends (and siblings) were inside, drunk and completely unaware that they had escaped their line of sight. “Or should we just let it be a surprise in the next five minutes when one of them goes to the bar and realizes we’re not there?” 

Jake licked his lips, and around the corner, he spotted a white car turning down the street - it matched the image in his head from the Uber app. It was their ride. “I think we should let it be a surprise.” He said with a smirk. 

She laughed, but didn’t know if it was from the alcohol pumping through her veins or the mental image of both their friend groups drunkenly stumbling around the bar, yelling their names in an attempt to find them when in reality they were whisking across the city, but she laughed anyway. 

“They will kill us,” 

“Oh absolutely,” Jake said before throwing up a hand, signaling the white car to them and letting them slow down to a stop in front of them. 

(Y/N) felt Jake pull away from her touch as he stepped down off the sidewalk and opened the back door to the car, poking his head in and talking briefly to the driver. Under the muffled music from inside, she caught him asking the driver for his name, and a second later Jake stood up and turned to her with a smile. 

He took a swift step up to the sidewalk, hands motioning to the car. “Your chariot has arrived,” He was tipsy. So was she. 

With a playful eye roll to his cliche line, (Y/N) shouldered her purse and stepped down off the sidewalk to the street, and she slid into the backseat of the car. Scooting in, Jake followed right behind her, their thighs pressed together as the driver sped off, following the directions to the house on his phone. The music in the car was low, just enough to hear what it was, but (Y/N) and Jake weren’t paying attention to anything but each other. She shifted to face him, his hand sliding to touch her knee through the material of her jeans, and they were talking, they were giggling about anything and everything, yet nothing at all. 

The orange street lights bounced in and out of the car the further they drove though East Hollywood, and she paused and admired him. Two hours ago they were mere strangers downing shots a table adjacent from each other, an hour ago they were laughing while dancing to Stephen Stills on a hammock-laden patio under string lights as those they came with cheered them on between rounds of beers and cocktails, and she never pictured her night ending by going home with someone. 

But she felt it when they talked, when they brushed hands, when they laughed. It felt like being with your best friend. They were two strangers in two different industries, but when they argued over Beatles versus The Rolling Stones before falling into singing whatever came on next on the jukebox, it felt like they had done it all before. 

“Oh god it’s almost one a.m.,” (Y/N) cursed under her breath as she glanced away from her cocktail to the watch on her wrist. 

Jake swooped in behind her, settling down on the bench to her right. She looked up at him with shining eyes and smiled, but there was a slight tug on her lips. “Got somewhere to be in the morning?” 

“No, I’m just supposed to go out tomorrow with some friends.” She looked forward, gaze darting across the room to where both her friend group and Jake’s were ordering standing around a picnic table next to the hammocks. “I might get an Uber and let you all have your fun.” When she reached into the side of her purse for her phone, Jake was quick to deflect her decision.

“Hey, hey, hey,” he reached out, placing a hand on her bag, and she raised a brow at him. He smiled, cheeks flushed and wisps of hair flying in the wind. She watched him pause as if he was thinking of what to say, then lick his lips before speaking up again. “I don’t want you to get an Uber alone. That’s sketchy.” 

(Y/N) smirked. “So what are you thinking?” 

“I’ll get an Uber, “he used his free hand to motion to the sky, “and you can come back to ours. I can show you all of those records that we talked about earlier. Maybe even let you borrow one or two.” 

“Oh, lucky me,” she grinned, obviously teasing him, and he chuckled. (Y/N)’s eyes scanned him quickly one last time - her brain ticking, determining whether or not going home with a stranger was how she wanted to end her night. And when his soft brown eyes met hers, she was a goner. “You get the Uber,” and Jake let out another chuckle, hand diving to the pocket of his jacket for his phone.

And half an hour later, after battling late traffic of East L.A., the two stumbled out of the backseat of the car and onto the sidewalk of a tiny residential area. With many rushed thank-yous, Jake shut the door and led (Y/N) to a small gate hidden between trimmed bushes, and he punched in a code before they stepped inside. 

While it wasn’t necessarily (Y/N)’s first rodeo, she did feel that kick of nerves in her stomach as she followed Jake into the house. Her heart was racing and stomach was full of nerves while he seemed so casual, tossing down his keys and flicking on the lights, heading to the kitchen while asking if she wanted a beer. 

“Yeah, I’ll take whatever you have.” 

Placing her bag down on the foyer table, she pushed further into the house, her eyes following a path of light from a room off the large living area. Peering inside, out of her own curiosity, she noticed a shelf on the wall full of records, and her feet led her inside. Her eyes drank in the sight of the vinyl's, the record player sitting in the corner of the room just waiting to be used.

Her eyes scanned the wall, looking at the different colors, the pictures, the fonts, imagining herself listening to them all. “You guys have Joan Baez records?” She beamed, speaking over her shoulder to Jake in the kitchen. 

Jake glanced up at her through the doorway, noticing her head craning back, staring up at the top shelf, and he smiled before screwing off the caps of the beers and crossing the distance between them. “I wasn’t joking when I said we grew up listening to literally everything.” He strolled into the room and (Y/N) glanced back with a matching smile, taking a beer from his outstretched arm, and then returning her eyes to the shelf. 

“My parents loved Joan Baez, mostly because she was the muse behind so many Dylan songs.” She turned her body towards him, their eyes meeting a second later and she quipped a brow. “Odds on having a Joni Mitchell record?” 

Jake’s eyes then darted to the wall. “More likely than you think,” and he stepped over and hooked his hand around the rolling ladder on the wall and slid it a few rows over to them. She watched as he took a step upon the ladder, and then another, reaching at the top shelf. “Which one - Ladies of The Canyon? Blue? For The Roses?” 

She reached out, holding onto the edge of the ladder while humming. “Surprise me,” 

Jake clicked his tongue, fingers fiddling with the vinyl before plucking one out. He held it out to her and she took it from his hand - noting the dark and light colors contrasting beautifully. It was Blue, her 1971 album. 

While he climbed down the small ladder, (Y/N) crossed the room to the corner where the record player sat next to a small lamp. She flipped on the lamp and flipped on the record player, pulling the record from the sleeve placing it on the turntable, then dropping down the stylus in one swoop. It started with All I Want. Joni’s soothing voice filled the room and she turned to Jake with a smile. 

“Is that your record?” 

He lowered down onto a chair, knees spread as he leaned back. “Think it’s Sam’s. We had so many duplicates of others when we moved in that we eventually just donated them all.” He explained and she gave a nod in response. 

Instead of taking the chair across from him, (Y/N) crossed the distance between them and lowered down onto the hardwood floor, placing herself right at his feet. She took a sip of her beer, crossed her legs, letting her shoulder brush his thigh while leaning against the chair. And they sat in silence for a moment - losing themselves in the sound of Joni’s voice, in the tapping of their hands and feet to the beat, in the sway of the melody of each song on that side of the record.

In the midst of Carey, Jake tilted his head to the side and looked down at (Y/N) at his feet. His free hand reached out, touching the skin of her shoulder, her neck, fingers twiddling with her hair. She felt his fingers graze over the back of her neck and she instinctively tilted her head back, and then she glanced over her shoulder to him. 

“Are you playing with my hair, Jake?” She teased and he let out a deep chuckle from behind her.

“It was so tempting,” he explained, hand then touching her shoulder, the side of her neck, and she felt her body melt right into putty. 

“That’s funny,” she shifted, turning to him. 

Jake raised a brow. “Why’s it funny?” 

And her eyes went straight to his hair. It was the second thing she noticed about him after his smile. His brown hair was long, hanging down past his shoulders, laying perfectly on the maroon corduroy jacket he was wearing. 

She lazily rested her cheek on the armrest of the chair, staring up at him with glossy eyes that had his heart racing. “Because I have wanted to play with your hair all night.” 

He smiled wide. “Well all you had to do was ask,” and he hastily slid down off the chair to her hip, both laughing while he came crashing down next to her. 

Legs tangled with drunken laughs, (Y/N) reached out, guiding her fingers straight through Jake’s long hair. His hair was soft, and they were so close she could smell his cologne on the collar of his shirt, making her head spin even faster. Jake leaned into her hand as she ran her fingers through the strands, finding it so soothing, and he looked at her, causing her to smile warmly at him. 

“This what you waited for?” 

“Like a dream came true,” she joked and they cracked smiles, “I’m mostly jealous though. Your hair is better than mine.” 

“Well, if it makes you feel better,” he motioned lazily to her leg, “I’m jealous of your boots. Wish I could pull those off as well as you do.” 

And she raised her foot up, the dark blue and sparkly boots glimmering in the low lighting of the room, and she shook her foot before placing it back down to the floor with a thump to the rug. “I feel like you would pull them off well. Pair them with any stage outfit and you’ll be Bowie up on that stage.” 

Jake leaned his head back against the chair and she shifted her knee over his thigh. She had her cheek resting against her own arm, fingers gently working in the strands of his hair. His eyes focused on her, on her flushed cheeks and red lips, glossy eyes, and he felt a kick of courage in his veins. 

“What would you say if I told you that I spent all night fighting the urge to kiss you?” 

(Y/N) stilled, her eyes searching his face, but she felt a kick in her chest, the butterflies filling her stomach. The guy she spent the entire night pining over was wanting to kiss her. And she felt like she was in a damn dream - hitting it off with a long-haired rockstar and sitting on their floor, tipsy, listening to vinyl. 

“I would say that you are a fool for not doing it.” 

Out the corner of her eye, she saw his hand raise up, the back of his fingers rubbing across the apples of her cheeks, and then his fingers slid to her neck and pressed against the nape of her neck, and she allowed him to pull her closer until their lips met. 

(Y/N)’s eyes fluttered shut as she felt his mouth press against hers, her body simultaneously busting at the seams while molding against him when she leaned in closer. His lips were soft, his skin was warm, her head was swirling. A second later she pulled back, nose nestling against his, and then she licked her lips before tilting her chin upwards and capturing his lips with hers again. 

The second kiss sealed their fate. 

Her lips parted when she took a small breath, and then she met his mouth again, over and over again while their bodies propelled them forward. Jake’s hands traveled down her body, touching her back, her hips as her fingers dived deeper into his hair, holding his head. When her lips dragged across his, his hands pressed against her lower back, and then her thigh, gently pulling her into his lap when she raised her knee to slide across his hips. Settling in his lap, their lips reconnected, this time more rushed, sloppy, heated. 

A slow and wavering breath left her lips when Jake’s cold hands met her waist - his skilled fingers traveling under the hem of her sweater and pressing against her hot skin, igniting her from the inside out as they kissed and kissed, and kissed again. She parted her lips and his tongue was in her mouth, and she could taste the hoppy beer, the nicotine on his breath from their smoke break before they escaped the bar into the night together. 

Jake’s lips broke away from hers and his head lolled back when she pressed her lips against his cheek, his jaw, trailing down his neck. He could feel his heart pound rapidly against his chest as she met the tender skin of his throat, and his fingers instinctively gripped tighter at the skin of her hips. Their lips reconnected for just a second before a noise ripped through the room - it was the typical Apple ringtone.

The noise startled them and they quickly pulled back from each other, looking around to see where the source of the noise was coming from. It was echoing from just outside of the room where they had placed their phones after coming in. When they realized it was their phones, they looked at each other - swollen lips and flushed cheeks. 

“Five dollars says it’s yours,” (Y/N) said quickly. 

Jake chuckled, his hands falling from her hips to her thighs, thumb rubbing along the seam. “And five says it’s your friends,” 

She quickly pulled her leg from his hip and leaned back, letting him stand to his feet. He quickly jogged out of the room and turned the corner to the foyer table, and a second later, he reappeared in the doorway with a grin while holding onto her phone with an illuminated screen. 

“Fuck,” she laughed, holding out a hand. He crossed the space between them and handed her the phone. The annoying ringtone stopped a beat later when she answered, and Jake busied himself with the records, walking over to change the vinyl to one he had in mind.

“Hey,” he heard her answer to her friends. “Are you guys still at the bar?” She asked next. 

He plucked a record from the sleeve and twirled it to the A-side, then placed it down, dropping the stylus onto the right spot to let it start playing. 

(Y/N) leaned on her hip, watching as Jake changed the records, but still paying attention to the loud sounds of the bar on the other end of the call - the yelling, the music, the cheers followed by clinks of glasses. And then she heard the album Jake put on to fill the space of the room - it was the first track of Some Girls, the 1978 Rolling Stones’ album. Their eyes met and she couldn’t help but laugh - just an hour or so ago they were arguing about the Beatles versus Stones between shots, and now he was making her pay for choosing the Beatles. 

“Anyways,” her friend sang through the speaker, “are you okay? Are you safe?” 

Jake spun around and pointed at her dramatically while then pretending to play air-guitar and (Y/N) beamed. “Yeah, I’m in good hands, no need to worry,”

#jake kiszka imagine #jake kiszka one shot #great van fleet imagine #greta van fleet one shot #gvf imagine #gvf one shot #jake kiszka

[fromthedeskofelizabeththird]

Habanero

You're a good girl, well behaved.

Absolutely not the type to rail random guys in nightclubs.

Until you are.

Fandom: BNHA

Pairing: Aizawa x Reader, eventual polyamorous Erasermic x Reader

Rating: Gen

Trigger Warnings: None in this chapter. Just Nemuri and Hizashi being dweebs

AO3: Here | Want to support me? I have a Kofi

Chapter: 6/16 (all chapters)

While you slept and Shouta squinted at the collection of food in his fridge, Hizashi and Nemuri sat in silence at the izakaya.

They’d stayed at the school for much longer than planned to go over the upcoming sports festival. Going for a beer had seemed like a good idea at the time, but the alcohol only added to how tired they already were.

Nemuri picked at her garlic fries with one hand and rested her head on the other. Hizashi had mostly abandoned his beer in favour of checking his phone.

You had texted him when you found Shouta’s apartment and then again on the train ride home. That should have been the end of it, but he couldn’t stop opening and closing the thread. Almost everything about that sequence of events was strange. He had concluded mere weeks after meeting you that you were a charitable sort of person, so the fact that you had gone to see Shouta wasn’t out of the ordinary. He couldn’t, however, understand why Shouta had let you in.

“Say, Nemuri,” he said. “You’ve known Eraser about as long as I have, right?”

“Sure,” she said, “what’s on your mind?”

“In all of the time you’ve known him...has he ever...you know…”

Nemuri raised an eyebrow and he sighed.

“Dated?”

Nemuri’s reaction was all he needed to know. Instead of saying yes or no she cracked up into boisterous laughter, slapping her hand against the table.

“Good one!” she said, reaching up to wipe the tears from her eyes. “Do you remember Shinohara?”

Shinohara was a girl from general studies who attended UA at the same time they did. She had always been the shy sort, though just about everyone knew she had a crush on Aizawa. Everyone, that is to say, except Shouta himself. He never noticed that she blushed and hid when he passed her in the corridors. Whenever he found love notes in his locker he assumed they were meant for someone else.

Eventually Shirakumo got tired of his obliviousness and explained the truth of Shinohara’s feelings in detail. It was painful watching her be so thoroughly ignored, however innocently. He urged Shouta to say something to her, even if it meant letting her down gently.

That’s not exactly how it worked out, though.

Shouta did ask to meet her after school in one of the empty classrooms. He got there five minutes early and Shirakumo, Hizashi and Nemuri all hid in the classroom next door to eavesdrop. Shouta had never expressed any interest in anyone romantically or otherwise prior to this moment and it was strangely fascinating, like watching gorillas hump at the zoo.

Nemuri brought snacks; Hizashi brought custom made earphones from the support classes to listen in.

Shinohara was so excited that it was almost painful. She arrived several minutes late, having neatened up her hair and fixed her makeup. She was already incredibly awkward and, now that she was alone with her crush, stumbled over every word to cross her lips.

“Shinohara,” Shouta had said. “Is it true that you have feelings for me?”

She nodded.

“How long for?”

“Two years now.”

“I see. Well, don’t waste your time anymore. I don’t feel the same way.”

That was the last thing he ever said to her and Shirakumo, Nemuri and Hizashi all winced.

Years had passed since that moment and he had never expressed any desire to date or hint of a crush. They were pretty sure he’d never even had sex.

“What do you suppose his type is?”

Nemuri leaned back in her chair, still picking at her fries.

“Hmmmm,” she said. “Why do you ask?”

“Something strange is happening,” said Hizashi. “I spoke to (Name) earlier and she…”

He leaned over to whisper, as if he was about to reveal confidential information.

“...she called him by his first name.”

Nemuri dropped the fry in her hand.

“No!”

“She went to his apartment...and He. Let. Her. In…”

“You’re lying.”

“No, I swear,” he said, turning his phone to show her.

Nemuri read the message chain, eyes widening.

“We’ve fallen into an alternate dimension,” she said, aghast.

“The sky’s going to fall!”

“We have to do something about this,” she said. “(Name) is a kind person...perhaps he’s mistaking it for affection.”

“Could it be...he’s the Shinohara?”

“Oh my god,” said Nemuri, clapping a hand over her mouth. “He’s the Shinohara.”

“Poor Eraser,” Hizashi said, tears forming in his eyes, “and his maiden’s heart.”

“We have to do something,” said Nemuri, “I don’t know what a rejection would do to him.”

They both fell into a stunned sort of silence, going over their complicated situation.

“Wait a second,” said Hizashi, eyes bright. “I think I’ve figured it out.”

“Oh?”

He opened up his phone and searched through his photos.

“There was a girl a while ago,” he said. “We went to Ego and...here!”

He turned his phone so Nemuri could see the screen. He had taken a lot of photographs that night, many of which with fans who had gotten incredibly excited to see him. He had also filmed a video, which just so happened to face out onto the bar.

“Say cheers, listeners,” he yelled over the thumping music, tossing back shots with the crowd.

Hizashi paused the video and caught Nemuri’s eye.

“Did you see it?”

“I see that you went without me.”

“No, not that. Watch again.”

He restarted the video and paused it moments before he shouted cheers.

“Look.”

Nemuri peered over as he pointed to the screen, showing a clear shot of the bar, however briefly. It wasn’t much, given the darkness of the video and sheer number of people in the room, but it was enough to show Shouta sitting at the bar, and he wasn’t alone.

Hizashi pressed play and the video continued, though this time they both focused on Shouta and the mysterious woman with him. As Hizashi and the girls with him downed their drinks, Shouta led the mysterious woman away from the bar, hand in hers.

“Who is that?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t get a good look at her face.”

Nemuri took the phone and replayed the video several times, watching over and over as Shouta and the woman left the bar.

“For Eraser to show any interest, she must have had three tits or something.”

“Perhaps he’s still hung up on her.”

“You’re right.”

Hizashi took his phone back and shook his head.

“Poor (Name),” he said, “she has no idea she’s Eraser’s rebound.”

“She’s the Shinohara after all,” said Nemuri, wiping a tear from her eye.

“We have to do something,” said Hizashi. “At this rate both of them are going to get hurt.”

“As I see it, we have two options. We can find that girl and reunite our dear Eraser with the love of his life.”

“Ooooh, I like that. What’s the other option?”

“We play matchmaker. Get Eraser to forget that other woman and (Name) to consider him as husband material. That way neither of them is the Shinohara.”

Hizashi nodded sagely, picking up his beer.

“You know what we have to do,” he said, reaching up for a toast.

Nemuri nodded and lifted her own drink.

“That settles it then,” she said. “Once the sports festival is out of the way, it’s game on.”

“They’re not going to know what hit them.”

Unfortunately, through a grave misunderstanding, Nemuri and Hizashi had come to completely different conclusions.

Nemuri toasted to convincing you and Shouta of one another’s better qualities.

Hizashi toasted to finding the mysterious woman from Ego .

Little did they know that while these options appeared contradictory on a surface level they both led to the same outcome.

Similarly, neither you nor Shouta could possibly have predicted the chaos heading your way.

#aizawa x reader #shouta aizawa x reader #aizawa shouta x reader #eraserhead x reader #aizawa shouta #habanero

[thosequeenboys]

Super Trouper (John Deacon x Reader)

Summary:  You and John Deacon became good friends during college.  When John joins a band, you both thought it was a fun hobby - until it became more. Over the years, you each followed your own career paths and shared your love of music, staying in touch mainly through letters, as friends -- until he invites you to Queen’s show at Madison Square Garden in 1980.

A/N: This piece was written for @imcompletelylost for the Possessed by Love Event.  I was so excited to be your creator, as we have some musical interests in common that I incorporated into the story. I hope you enjoy them. The story is based on my favorite ABBA song. Thank you @yourlocalmusicalprostitute for coordinating this event.  Thank you, @warriorteam1924 for great beta reading, ideas & support.  Also thanks to @mirkwoodshewolf and @iwilltrytobereasonable for brainstorming and your terrific ideas.

Warnings:  2-parts fluff to 1-part angst.  Band and song dates may not perfectly align with the story time frames.  I hope music historians will be forgiving, and any lapses will not detract from the story.

 It’s 1971, and you and your best friend, John Deacon, were in the cafeteria line pushing your trays along the railing.  Each of you grabbed a plate of sodden fish and chips from under the orange warming lights. After four years, you still missed a good old American burger and fries, but aside from the food, attending college in London had been a great experience.

“They asked me to audition. Seem like a good gaggle of guys.” John laughed at his alliteration.

“They call themselves Queen? Like, Your Majesty?” you queried.

“Indeed,” John affirmed. “The lead singer, Freddie, is an art student. He’s drawing a crest. And there’s Brian and Roger.  They’re science students.”

“Lovely!” you enthused.

“A good distraction from studies.” John concurred. “Though they do seem quite ambitious.”

“Can’t hurt to give it a go,” you shrugged. “Though good thing you all will have those polished degrees to fall back on,” you said, only half joking.

“I am pleased to confer your degrees upon you. Congratulations to the class of 1972,”  the Dean asserted with a tight grin.  The audience broke out into polite applause.  You looked around a bit bewildered. You missed the American tradition of giddy graduates tossing their mortarboards in the air with abandon. After a quick embrace, you and John made your way to the local pub to meet up with his band mates, now considered your friends.

“So, Y/N,” Brian said, placing a beer down before you, “You’re heading back to America next year? So willing to leave our lush gardens, cultural sophistication -- and our dear friend, John?

“Not to mention, the next band destined for greatness,” Freddie declared with a broad smile as he tucked his chin slightly, his long hair falling into his face.

“Yes, well,” you took a deep breath feeling four sets of eyes upon you. “The advertising agency I worked for during school offered me a position in their New York office.  Always wanted to live in New York.  I will miss London’s beauty and culture,” your voice lilted with the faint British accent you had picked up.

“And…” Roger prompted you to respond to the end of Brian’s statement.

“And, yes, the people I’ve met,” you spat out. You shot a glance at John, and you melted as you felt his eyes meeting yours. “And the memorable times I’ve had. With them.” you added, trying to sound light, but you felt tears collecting on the rim of your eyes and you blinked to dissipate them. You knew their presence resulted from the thought of leaving the most important person to you-the lithe, long-haired brunette, whose grey eyes you were now lost in-your best friend, John. Only a friend, the last four years had established. You grabbed a napkin and subtly dabbed at your eyes.

John blinked, and his lips fell into a grin that made his eyes crinkle. “You can’t be talking about our first day as chemistry lab partners when your signature hand movements to Dancing in the Street knocked the beaker clear off the table, smashing it to a million pieces.” John smirked.

“No,” you laughed, moving past your embarrassment to counter, “I’m actually thinking about the time we stayed up all night to write our English papers and finished each other’s sentences, taking sips of beer after each successful line.”

“Some of the best writing the University has ever seen,” John deadpanned, as he looked up wistfully. “And one of the highest English scores I ever earned, legless or sober.” He added, rubbing his chin.

“There it is then,” Roger interjected.

You both looked at him mystified.

“You’ll stay in touch by writing letters. Though you’ll each have to finish your own sentences, I suppose.” Roger concluded, unleashing his playful smile.

*****

Your tight bell bottoms skimmed the floor and the loose open-neck cotton blouse with colorful embroidery flowed around your curves. You glanced at your bags piled by the door, moving over to check one to distract yourself from the impending onslaught of emotions. A soft knock interrupted your nervous efforts. You rezipped the bag as John entered and halted, taking you in.  His swallowed, and his mind revisited the thoughts he repeated to himself over the last few weeks. If only. If only this conversation could be different. If only I said something sooner. If only we wouldn’t be risking our friendship. If only you wanted this to be more. ‘If I only had the words to tell you, If you only had the time to understand. Though I know it wouldn't change your feelings, And I know you'll carry on the best you can.’ (1) You’d probably go anyway, he had concluded.

“Thanks for seeing me off,” You said, avoiding his gaze.

“I…I brought you something,” John blurted out, as his long fingers dug into the front pocket of his faded bell bottoms. He thrust a rectangular box toward you.

You forced a smile through your tense face and lifted the lid. You pulled out a delicate sterling silver chain that held a mounted luminescent grey oval stone with angular cuts that refracted blue hues.  “John, it’s…beautiful,” you said, as you reached behind your neck to fasten it.

“Here, let me,” he moved behind you, his strong fingers overlaying yours to ease the clasp, as he thought of the day he purchased the gift. Brian had accompanied John to the jewelry shop, and as they peered into the display case, Brian suddenly gasped. “Oh, a moonstone. So beautiful how it catches the light and changes colors.  This is really exquisite, John.  And, it will be a reminder that even apart, you’ll still share the same moon.”

Back to the present, John stepped in front of you and admired the gift resting splendidly between your collarbones, perfectly framed by your open blouse. “I’m not into all that crystal nonsense,” John said, “but it’s said to be a calming gemstone. And a wise man said, it will remind us that though we’re apart, we’ll be sharing the same moon.” John figured Brian wouldn’t mind him lifting his line.

“Oh John, that’s lovely,” you leaned in to hug him, and as he returned the embrace, your denim jeans pressed together and your arms pulled each other close. How could you be leaving this, him? You had to accept that nothing more was meant to be.

“Wait! I have something for you!” You pulled away suddenly, knowing time was of the essence, and reached into your bag, retrieving a long black box.  You held it out to John, who opened it quickly. He held up the beautiful pen engraved with JRD.

“Now that we’ll be writing to each other….” You indicated.

“It’s perfect.” John said his eyes shifting between you and the gift.  Before you could embrace again, a horn blared. “Cab’s here. Let me grab some bags,” John looked down, hefted two bags and headed out the door. You looked around your flat, grabbed your last suitcase and purse.  As you entered the hallway and slowly shut the door, you knew this special chapter in your life had ended.  And you hoped Roger was right: that your friendship with John would continue from afar.

*****

Sirens blared outside as you dragged yourself up the four flights of stairs.  You felt a corner of the record digging into your side through your thin fabric bag. Once inside your apartment, you pulled the record out of the beautiful jacket, and read the song list on the label.  You propped open the heavy lid of your record player and blew on the vinyl disk before placing it gingerly on the turntable.  You flipped the on switch, and the album turned rhythmically.  You carefully lifted the needle, hovering it over the fourth groove as the record turned, waiting to release it at just the right place to start the song, at just the right indentation to avoid a scratch. You steadied your fingers and eased the needle down carefully. After a beat, success! ‘Is this the real life? Is this just fantasy?’ (2)  You took a deep breath as the beautiful, familiar melody consumed you, taking you on an emotional journey, flooding your small flat. You kicked off your heels, curled up on the couch and grabbed your writing kit from the side table.

Dear John,

I’m listening to Bohemian Rhapsody-on my own record player! What a work of art!  I loved your last letter describing your creative adventures with the boys at Ridge Farm. The song sums up how I’ve been feeling recently: my fantasy of working at a big ad agency has been replaced by the reality that starting out, it’s more grunt work than glamour.  Accepting that helps me stick with it. And, it calls into question, what really matters in life?  And what is Scaramouche, anyway? Ha-ha. Give the boys my love and let them know I am so proud of them and so pleased you’re all getting deserved recognition.  Too bad those hard-earned degrees are going to waste! Cheers, Y/N

Dearest Y/N,

Yes, the reception for A Night at the Opera has been a whirlwind and exceeded our wildest dreams.  Speaking of which, I had a dream we were back at Uni playing the finishing sentences game in your flat. I handed you my notebook and instead of words, there were musical notes. Probably because I’ve been writing some songs. In fact, I wrote You’re my Best Friend for you.  True story.  Yours, John

*****

Dearest Y/N,

I know we were both disappointed that we missed each other during our recent US tour. I hope your business trip was all it was supposed to be. Well, we’re back in London now, having had to cut the tour short in Boston, as Brian was very ill-and is still recovering from Hepatitis. Suffice it to say, it was very scary. But, you know him, as ill as he was, he was still writing. He was afraid we’d kick him out of the band, which we would never do. We are brothers, family.  I thought the band was just a hobby, and now I can’t imagine my life without being part of Queen.  Love to you always, John

Dear John,

My goodness, I hope Brian has recovered, and you have as well from a stressful trip. Speaking of trips, mine was…very good. I met someone special… Eric. We just clicked-about life. He’s in Boston. And get this! He was supposed to see the show you had to cancel because of Brian’s illness. He was so impressed that I knew you all ‘way back when.’ Can’t wait to see him next weekend. Not picking out the wedding gown yet….But, I did pick up Billy Joel’s early album Street Life Serenade. The Entertainer reminds me of you and the boys: ‘I am the entertainer. And I know just where I stand. Another serenader. And another long-haired band. Today I am your champion. I may have won your hearts. But I know the game, you'll forget my name. And I won't be here in another year, if I don't stay on the charts.’. Well, you don’t have to worry about the last line. You guys will be on the charts for the foreseeable future-and beyond. I also thought it was funny that he wrote, ‘if you’re gonna have a hit, you gotta make it fit, so they cut it down to 3:05.’ (3) Tell Freddie he proved that wrong with Bohemian Rhapsody! Take care and hugs to Brian. Cheers, Y/N

****

Dearest Y/N:

That’s a great song! Joel’s descriptions are certainly accurate, but they don’t capture everything. It’s been a tough time. Tensions permeate the group, and there are lots of arguments. I do think in a weird way they help to fuel creativity, but it can feel exhausting. Even though you and I are not together, I feel you with me, soothing me, steadying me. Truthfully, that helps calm me-and helps me to soothe the boys and try to keep us all focused. I hope you are happy. You’re my Best Friend. Love, John

Dear John,

I’m sure you are a great calming influence for the band. You are a stalwart trouper during tough times indeed!

Speaking of calming, your beautiful necklace has been soothing me as I try to move on from the failed love affair with my Bostonian. The line from Summer, Highland Falls sums it up: ‘How thoughtlessly we dissipate our energies. Perhaps we don’t fulfill each other’s fantasies. We are always what our situations hand us-it’s either sadness or euphoria.’ (4) It was a roller coaster of grand fun and tense irreconcilable disagreements. He was very inflexible, wanting everything on his terms. I realize everything was easy with you and me; there was a give and take.  Knowing you’re there for me – and that we share the same moon – helps.  Cheers and love, Y/N

*****

The boys were nursing warm drinks in a Munich bar, as John pulled the letter out of his jacket and scanned it again.  The boys eyed him, sensing relief that John found hard to cover.

“It’s OK to gloat, John.  Glad she dumped that selfish bloke,” Roger said. “You’ve been a trouper all these years, being a great friend to Y/N. It must be hard though.  I mean, you’ve always wanted more…”

Freddie put his beer down loudly on the table and took a commanding tone. “Enough with this letter-writing rubbish.  Now is your time, John!  Invite her to our upcoming Madison Square Garden show! YES!!! We’ll have your dressing room decorated with lights and big bouquets of fragrant flowers brought in from the nearby Flower District!  And Moet of course!” Fred’s words spilled out of him, as the images came into focus.

Roger jumped in. “We’ll arrange a limo to bring her to the show. She’ll be escorted to her front row seat-and then backstage after the show to meet you privately. Finally! You’ll tell her how you feel; ask her to move to London and….”

“Guys, wait, wait!” Brian said in a measured tone.  “This is John’s decision.  It’s a big step for him, and he…”

“Really, Dear,” Fred interrupted, trying to hold back an eye roll and a disdainful tone, “Must you be such a Dolly Downer?”  

John looked at his band mates warmly, touched that they clearly wanted what was best for him.  “Well, I do appreciate the premiere matchmaking services of Mercury-Taylor. And May is right, it’s a big step.” John hesitated. He felt he was on a precipice looking out into a sea mixed with excitement and anxiety, like waves gathering, crashing gently toward each other before rushing out at low tide. He added haltingly, “It…it may be too late.”

“Well, you won’t know unless you try.  It would be nice for you to share the same moon on the same continent,” Brian said with a wink to John.

John smiled as a lyric came to his mind, ‘You can't be everything you want to be before your time. Although it's so romantic on the borderline tonight.’ (5)  “Maybe it’s my time. Our time,” he said, casting a smile at his friends.

“Wonderful! I’ll tell Miami the arrangements to be made!” Freddie said decisively.

******

Your office meeting stretched into the night, not an unusual occurrence, though the head of the firm addressing a small team of top-performing staff was unprecedented. “We have acquired a number of significant clients in London, and we will be expanding our office there.  If any of you are interested in a position, please let me know in the next two weeks.”  As the meeting ended, your colleague turned to you, “How about we let off some steam at the Palladium?” Sounded good to you. After the bouncer removed the velvet rope, you were welcomed to the club by pulsating music and lights thrown off a large disco ball hanging from the ceiling.  You entered the dance floor and started to move to the blaring beat, ‘Gimme gimme, gimme a man after midnight.’ (6) You realized it wasn’t any man you wanted. It was John.  Maybe you should take a position in London.  Maybe you and he….But you were getting ahead of yourself.  Tomorrow you’d have a front row seat at Queen’s Madison Square Garden concert and a private reunion with John afterwards. For now, as usual, you let the music envelop you and move through you, expressing your feelings.

*****

You were ready to go in a black leather miniskirt, white sleeveless tank top and your white go-go boots. Your nerves were making a cameo; as you clasped John’s necklace your fingers shook.  You entered the waiting limousine and stretched out in the back, enjoying the rare city view from a car.  It sure beat riding the subway.  Upon arrival at the VIP entrance, you were escorted to your seat.  Your stomach felt hollow, and you had to consciously remind yourself to breathe.  As you settled in, taking in the huge stage, thoughts coursed through you:  Here you were: sitting front row at Madison Square Garden, seeing Queen-a band you knew and truly admired, reuniting with John -- and hopefully clarifying your future.  You tried to push it all aside as the hot spotlights lit the stage, signaling the start of the show.

In the wing backstage, John shifted from foot to foot as he peered out onto the stage lit only by four glaring spotlights that cascaded over the smoke. He could already feel the heat from those lights, but he knew there was more to the warmth creeping through him: you were out there, and the two of you would be reunited soon. A smile bloomed across his face as he took in the roar of the crowd. ‘Suddenly I feel all right, and it's gonna be so different when I'm on the stage tonight. Tonight, the super trouper lights are gonna find me shining like the sun, smiling, having fun, feeling like a number one, Tonight the super trouper beams are gonna blind me, but I won't feel blue like I always do. 'Cause somewhere in the crowd there's you.’(7)

Ratty gave the queue, and Freddie led the boys in a bounding stage entrance. John took his place behind Freddie’s piano. The powerful beams prevented him from seeing the fans, but he wasn’t blinded. He saw more clearly now than he ever had.

The show was magnificent, and after the encore, the boys met again in the stage wing, as the roadies handed them towels.  

“Your dressing room is ready!” Freddie reassured. “We snuck in a few candles, though we are violating New York City Fire Code,” he added with a wink, and glance at Roger, who tried unsuccessfully to conceal a laugh.  

Brian rolled his eyes and raised his hands dramatically in front of himself. “News Headline:  Queen burns up Madison Square Garden.  Literally.”

“For a good cause, though!” Roger defended.

“Thanks, Guys,”  John said softly, nodding to his best friends. “Wish me luck.”

John’s heart beat faster with each step down the long corridor.  As he opened the door he spotted you seated on a couch, and he gasped.  You stood, and he reached out his hand, which you took, as you swayed your hips slightly to release some nervous energy.  

“Y/N, I’d hug you but…I’m a sweaty mess,” John said, suddenly self-conscious. “You’re so beautiful.”

“You look gorgeous-you always did,” you said. “The show was fantastic!  And I love what you’ve done to the place,” you said coyly, gesturing around the romantically lit room, dotted with lush bouquets and a champagne bucket. “Who knew The Garden had such impeccable decorating taste?”

“It was Fred and Roger’s doing, actually,” He chuckled.  “Sit, sit.” He bent into the couch and still holding your hand, he eased you down with him.

You both started to speak at the same time:  “Y/N, I wanted to tell you that I….”   “John, my company has positions in the UK and I’m thinking of taking one….”

“Is that what you want? To return to London?” John asked, trying and failing to temper his excitement.

You stared at each other.  “If,” you said, gathering courage and then shaking your head to change the point. “It isn’t just work I want to return for…It’s…well, I know you probably have girls lining up, but I…”

“No.” John cut you off.  There’s never been anyone serious. There couldn’t be.  There’s only been you.  All these years.” He swallowed before continuing. “Tonight…the reason for all this, I was planning to tell you that I love you, always have, always will, and ask if you’d consider coming back to the UK.  Back home, to me….”

“Yes! A definite yes!”  You embraced with some distance between you, and John broke apart sporting a broad grin.  “Oh, Y/N!  I…. I need to shower and then we can continue our plans. I’m so happy!  And I need to tell the boys that their matchmaking efforts worked-and that as Brian said, we’ll be enjoying the moon together-from the same place.”

‘Whenever we’re together, that’s my home,’ (8) you said, letting your happy tears flow.

Song Notes

1.    If I Only Had the Words, Billy Joel

2.    Bohemian Rhapsody, Queen

3.    The Entertainer, Billy Joel

4.    Summer, Highland Falls, Billy Joel

5.    Vienna, Billy Joel

6.    Gimme, Gimme, Gimme (A Man after Midnight), ABBA

7.    Super Trouper, ABBA

8.    You’re My Home, Billy Joel

#john deacon #john deacon x reader #john deacon x y/n #john deacon x you #roger taylor #freddie mercury #brian may #queen band #queen #pbl #possesed by love #queen fanfiction #queen fandom #abba #billy joel #super trouper #Bohemian Rhapsody #possessed by love event #john deacon x fem #friend to lover #friend to more

[banshee1013]

Suptober Day 13 - Ladies

Overall Title: The Road Less Traveled

Overall Rating: Mature (may change to Explicit, we’ll see how it goes)

Tags: Castiel/Dean, mention of Sam/Eileen, Jody, Donna, Post-Season 15, ExAngel!Cas, MostlyRetiredHunter!Dean, Road Trip

(Note: all ficlets are unbeta’d. At the end of the month, I’ll wrap up whatever I manage to get written, clean it up, get it beta’d, and post to AO3. So please pardon any mistakes!)

========================================================

CHAPTER EIGHT - LADIES

Words: 2191

“Next exit, Dean.” 

He’s keeping his voice carefully neutral, projecting calm - but Dean knows better.

Cas is beside himself with excitement. 

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

They had stopped for lunch at a little diner in Myers Flats the day before, when Dean realized how close they were to the giant redwoods. They finished their meal and spent the rest of the day driving the Avenue of the Giants, stopping at several locations to explore or take pictures; even driving through the Shrine Drive-Thru Tree (which of course, Dean had to get a picture of Baby parked inside the Tree, immediately sending it to Sam). 

It was a wonderful day, spent among beautiful ancient trees - but inside, Dean was freaking out. 

Fuckin’ dumbass. How could you have just BLURTED it out like that??

It’s not that Dean regretted the question - not by a long shot - and was absolutely over the moon about Cas’ response. 

But the way it had come out… UGH. 

So, while outwardly Dean enjoyed the drive and the trees, and Cas among the trees (“Some of these trees are over two thousand years old, Dean!”) - internally, he was desperately trying to figure out a way of correcting his incredible proposal faux pas. 

Adding to his anxiety over the whole thing - Cas hadn’t mentioned it again. 

Not a peep. Not a word. 

They spent the night in a cozy little cabin at a motor lodge in Phillipsville, both so exhausted they fell asleep almost as soon as their heads hit the pillows.

The next morning, Dean had woken up to Cas coming back in the room, two steaming cups of coffee and some danishes from the motel office in his hands - and positively vibrating with excitement. 

Setting the coffee and danish on the nightstand, he thrusts a brochure at him.

“While I was waiting for the coffee to finish percolating, I struck up a conversation with the proprietor,” Cas explained, “ and when I mentioned we were headed south she informed me about a large accumulation of wineries near our route. She showed me a rack of informational pamphlets on these wineries, and I found this one!” He gleefully pointed at the name on the brochure - ‘Beehave Winery’. “They make mead there, Dean!” 

Dean vaguely recalls the term - isn’t that what they drank at Camelot or something? 

Cas correctly interpreted the look on his face - “Honey wine, Dean!” He plucked the brochure from Dean’s hand, opening it and thrusting an eager finger inside. “And they have their own beehives!”

Well, beehives. Of course they were going to stop there. 

Cas must have taken Dean’s silence as protest, his eyes dropping and his voice taking on a pleading tone. 

“I know it’s farther inland, and that you wished to turn off onto Highway 1 in Leggett (Cas knew Dean’s route better than Dean did at this point), and I know you prefer beer to wine...”

Dean reached a hand to his chin, lifting it up to look into his eyes. “Hey, hey… it’s fine!” He set the brochure on the bed and stood, gathering Cas into his arms. “This trip isn’t just about me, sweetheart. We can do whatever we both want.” 

Cas buried his face in Dean’s neck and sighed happily. “So, we can go see the bees, then?”

Dean laughed and pulled away, pressing a kiss onto his forehead. “Of course we can. Wine has alcohol, I can get behind that.” 

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

Cas peers at the map on the brochure, brows pinched in concentration.

“Turn left onto Silverado Trail.”

Dean takes the exit and turns left, following Cas’ directions. They pass a number of wineries with names like ‘Black Stallion Winery’ and ‘Reynolds Family Winery’, or fancier ones like ‘Signorello Estates’ and ‘Clos du Val’. Parking lots full of cars and wine tour buses, the road lined with grape vines as far as the eye can see. 

“There! There it is!” Cas points excitedly at the sign for the winery by a small road leading up to a group of buildings off the road. Dean turns onto it and drives up to the parking lot, pulling into a spot next to another of the ubiquitous wine tour buses. 

Cas hops out of the car and comes around to the drivers side, taking Dean’s hand and all but pulling him from the car in his eagerness. Dean laughs and squeezes Cas’ hand, slowing him down so he can close and lock the Impala. 

“Calm down, angel. The bees aren’t going anywhere.” 

As they approach the group of buildings, the buzz of voices reaches them, light and happy. They follow the sound to the tasting room, where a small but enthusiastic crowd is gathered around a long counter. A… bartender, Dean guesses… pours a light amber wine into an empty wine glass, passing it to one of the waiting customers, a bubbly blonde. A second bartender pours her companion - a slight, salt-and-pepper haired woman -  a darker reddish wine into her glass. They turn to each other and tap the glasses together with a bright clink. 

“Cheers, Jodes!” 

Dean stops dead in his tracks, his arm yanked hard by Cas who’s attention is on the corner of the room full of bee and honey paraphernalia. 

“Dean…?” Cas turns to see what brought Dean up short and follows his gaze.

“Is that… Sheriff Mills and Sheriff Hanscum?” 

The ladies turn towards them… and it’s Jody who recognizes them first.

“D-Dean? Dean Winchester?” she says, stammering in surprise.

“What about Dean?” Donna asks before following Jody’s shocked gaze. “Oh my! DEANO!” 

She all but launches herself at him, Dean dropping Cas’ hand just before she envelopes him in a huge bear hug. 

Cas manages to grab the wine glass from her hand before it ends up all over Dean’s back, as Jody approaches at a more sedate pace. “And Castiel! What brings you boys to Napa Valley?” She quickly lowers her voice. “You boys on a case? Where’s Sam?” 

Dean extricates himself from Donna and turns to give Jody a warm hug. “No, no case - Cas and I are on a road trip,” he says, laughing at the expression on Cas’ face as Donna squishes him as well. He rescues Donna’s wine glass in turn, and hands it back to her when she’s done mauling Cas. 

A flurry of conversation erupts - “Fancy meeting you here!” “What are you ladies doing out here?” “How are you boys?” “Dean and I are doing quite well, thank you.”

“So, where’s Sam?” Jody asks again, accompanying Dean and Cas as they head to the counter to get their own glasses of wine. 

“He and Eileen are… hunting. Yeah, that’s it.” Dean waggles his eyebrows at Jody. 

Donna bursts into a gale of laughter. “Oh I betcha that’s what they’re doin’!” 

“C’mon, let’s getcha some wine and let’s go find a place to catch up.” 

Dean gets a glass of the dark red wine, Cas the amber one, and they head to a table in the corner, away from the noise of the bar.

“So, what are you doing here?” Dean asks them again.

“Oh, we’re here on a wine retreat - ‘Cops and Corks’.” Donna jabs a thumb back at the group gathered around the bar. “I dragged Jodes here last year and we liked it so much, we came back!” She points between them. “What’s this I hear about a road trip?” 

“There has not been very much activity since Chuck left,” Cas explains. “There’s still the occasional hunt but Sam and Eileen took the last one, and Dean was bored.” He takes a sip of his wine and his eyebrows raise.

Dean chuckles. “Like that, do ya, sweetheart?” His eyes immediately go wide as he realizes he just outed themselves... to Jody and Donna. 

The girls don’t even blink an eye. “That’s really great,” Jody says, her voice warm. “You guys deserve it.” 

Dean isn’t sure if she’s talking about the trip… or his inadvertent admission. 

But… would it be such a big deal if they did know? Donna and Jody are family. 

And Dean was done hiding his affection… his love… for Cas. 

He reaches for Cas’ hand and gives it a squeeze. Cas turns and the smile he gives Dean lights up the room. 

The conversation continues on from there - the girls are doing well; Alex has finished nursing school and is doing her residency now; Patience is still having visions but not as much anymore, she’s off to college and doing well; and Claire is still… well, Claire. Still going on the occasional hunt, still missing Kaia. Cas’ face falls at this news and vows to visit with her, turning to Dean for support and Dean nodding in agreement. 

And for some reason, the motion of Cas looking to him like that brings back the anxiety of the botched proposal.

Their wine glasses are empty, and Dean sure could use another (although he’ll never admit to actually liking it - if asked, it’s just alcohol. But it’s actually pretty tasty). 

“Who’s up for another round? I”m buyin’.” Donna and Cas are in deep conversation over the applications of knives over guns or something, but both absently raise a quick hand. 

Jody tilts her head, her look inscrutable. “Sure, I could use another. Need a hand?”

Dean realizes that yes, he could use a hand - and not just with the wine. He nods and they set off towards the bar, empty glasses in hand. 

“So spill, Winchester. What’s eatin’ you?” Jody asks as soon as they’re out of earshot.

Dean swallows nervously. “Well, I kind a spilled the beans about me and Cas back there…” 

Jody takes both wine glasses in one hand and places her free one on his bicep, giving a gentle squeeze. “Yeah, and I’m glad.” She snorts and drops her hand. “And frankly, it’s about damn time.” She arches an eyebrow at him. “So, what of it?” 

They reach the bar and place their orders. Dean sighs. 

“Jody, I fucked up.” 

Jody’s brows pinch in concern. “How so?” She looks back at the table, and Dean follows her gaze. Cas looks up at them, gives him a soft smile and a wave. Dean waves back, his heart in his throat. 

Damn it, he loves Cas so much. How could he have fucked up so bad?

“Doesn’t look like he thinks so.” 

Dean turns back to Jody, shoulders sagging. “Jody, I proposed to him.” 

Jody’s eyes light up and she lightly punches his arm. “You dog! Congrats!” Then her face falls. “Oh, shit… he said yes, right?” 

“Yeah, he said yes.” 

Jody squints, puzzled. “So, how did you fuck up?” Her eyes grow hard. “You better have meant it.”

Dean’s eyes snap to hers. “Yeah… hell, yeah, I meant it!” He bites his lip and sighs. “But… I just blurted it out, Jody. No grand gesture, no nothin’. Just ‘Cas, marry me’. UGH” 

He startles at Jody’s sudden peal of laughter, then grabbing his arm. “Oh Dean, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t laugh.” She stops laughing but her eyes are still dancing. “So, he said yes, right?”

“Yeah….?” 

“Then you didn’t fuck up, Dean!” She gives his arm another squeeze. “You did just fine!” 

“But…”

“NO BUTS,” she cuts him off sternly. “He said yes. You’re golden.” 

“Jody, he hasn’t said anything about it since I asked.” Dean feels a pang in his chest - saying it out loud making his anxiety all that more real.

She shrugs. “Dean, he’s an ex-angel. They’re very literal creatures. He probably thinks it’s a done deal.” Then, she chuckles. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he thinks you’re married already.” 

Dean gives a wan laugh, and picks up his and Cas’ refilled wine glasses, Jody grabbing hers and Donna’s; and they head back to the table. 

The uncertainty is backing off some, but there’s still some lingering doubt, and Jody’s mom instincts must pick up on it.

“Listen, Dean. Just because you asked and he said yes, doesn’t mean you can’t ask again - you could still do the grand gesture if it’s what you want to do.” She jostles his arm with an elbow. “I’ve seen how he looks at you, I’m pretty certain you’ll get the same answer.” 

They rejoin Cas and Donna at the table. Jody hands Donna her glass, taking a sip from her own. 

Dean sets the wine glasses down, and spins Cas around, pulling him into his arms. 

“Love you, Cas,” he murmurs into his ear.

Cas squeezes Dean back. “I love you too, Dean. Always.” 

“Ohmigosh, you two, get a room!” Donna chortles loudly, and Jody almost chokes on her wine. 

Dean feels every bit of anxiety and uncertainty drain from him, and he laughs joyfully, leaning back in Cas’ arms. Cas’ smile is warm and wide, his eyes shining with love. 

Releasing Cas but keeping an arm around his waist to hold him close, Dean raises his glass. 

“To friends and family,” he intones, then looks down into Cas’ bright eyes. 

“And to the future.” 

He hears the glasses click as Donna, Jody, and Cas tap their glasses to his raised one, but he only has eyes for Cas. 

#suptober20 #fic #art #Destiel #jody #donna #bees #wine

[chadism-101]

CHADIVERSARY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

YEAR OF CHAD GUYS

thank u all so much for everything, all the art and fics and friendships and creations that i've seen and the discussions i've had through this blog and through chadism have made the past year so awesome and special

thank u all for being the best bros (gn) a dude could ask for, it's been awesome coming up with chad blessings and chadmendments with u all

I appreciate everyone who's followed along with chad and the bro squad's adventures and i assure you they are not done yet, i planned to update the chadquel today but unfortunately some things got in the way :((((

finally cheers to the Supreme Chadellency, creator of chad, who made all of this possible and has been honestly an amazing person and friend this past year

once again, thank you all and remember: Cheers, Beers and Support ur Peers <3

#chadiversary #chadism #cheers beers and supporting our peers

[songtoyou]

Chapter Three: Need The Sun To Break

Would You Call That Love

Pairing: Chris Evans x Raina Morrison (OC)

Rating: PG to PG-13 (Might be 18+ for some chapters)

Description: There was always that one person Chris Evans tended to turn to when he was not in a committed relationship, Raina Morrison. He could confide in her about things going on in his life that he did not feel comfortable talking to his family or close friends about. Chris and Raina were able to establish a way to openly communicate with one another, but also being respectful of the other’s time and needs. It was the only constant “relationship” he had, but without all the nonsense of trying to build a life together. A “friends with benefits” situation. However, what happens when Chris starts rethinking his “relationship” with Raina and if either are willing to pursue something more?

Chapter Rating: PG

Warnings: Mentions the death of a loved one.

Word Count: 3,161

Author’s Note: This chapter was tough, particularly the beginning, since it is very emotional. I hope this chapter provides a little bit more insight into who Raina is as a person. 

Feedback is always welcomed. If you want to be tagged, please let me know.

Sadly, I do not know Chris Evans or anyone in his family, and this is just a fictional take on his life. I do not permit this fic to be reposted on other platforms.  

Again, thanks to @southerngracela​ for the support.

*Note: Updated for edits on grammar and punctuation.

September 26, 2010

Returning to the home ground after their loss to the New York Jets, the New England Patriots were looking to rebound with a win against the Buffalo Bills. The Patriots were able to score a 7-yeard touchdown thanks to the star quarterback, Tom Brady. Anyone from New England loved Thomas Edward Patrick Brady Jr. He was their golden boy, despite not even being from the area. A west coaster who grew up in California could melt the hearts of any contemptuous New Englander. 

For Chris Evens, just saying the name ‘Tom Brady’ around him would result in him turning into a blushing schoolgirl. Tom brought pride back the Patriots with six Superbowl championships, nine Conference championships, and seventeen Division championships. For any New Englander, it was a feeling they were going to hold onto and cherish.

“Go…go…go…YES!!” Chris cheered as he got up from his couch to cheer Tom Brady’s second touchdown.

“What happened?” asked Scott as he rushed back from the kitchen when he heard Chris celebrating.

“Brady just scored a TD,” replied Chris.

“Fuck! I mean, yes! This is the last time I get up to get you a beer from the fridge. You get them yourselves from now on. Another commercial! Give me a break.” Scott scolded, taking his seat next to Chris on the couch. 

“The Pats need to win this. The team has already lost to the New York Giants and Jets. If they lose to the Bills, then Raina will never let me hear the end of it. She loves to gloat and rub it in my face whenever New York wins anything,” Chris shared as he took a sip of his beer.

Scott was aware of how Chris would essentially light up or blush whenever he talked about Raina. One had to pay attention, or it would not be visible, but Scott was a master at reading his brother’s body language and emotions.

“Speaking of our favorite chanteuse, you ever going to ask her out, or are you just going to pine for the rest of your life?” asked Scott bluntly. He was never one to beat around the bush when getting information, especially with his older brother. 

“What are you talking about? Raina and I are just friends. Good friends. Men and women can be friends. Just like Tara and me,” Chris defended strongly, “Why are you always pushing this narrative that I like Raina more than merely a friend?”

“Because you do. I can see it. Ma can see it. Shanna and Carly see it. Blind people see it,” Scott proceeded to enlighten Chris. 

Chris scoffed and reiterated as calmly as he could to Scott, “Okay, hold up. Do you guys just sit around and gossip about Raina and me? We are friends! That’s it! Nothing more, nothing less.” 

When the game returned from commercial break, Chris’s phone rang. He was inclined to ignore it, but when he saw it was from Raina, he answered.

“Speaking of Raina, here she is calling, probably to talk smack about the game. ‘Hello?’” Chris spoke into his phone happily. However, his mood changed when he heard sobs on the other end.

“Rai, what’s wrong? What happened?” Chris asked, concerned as he sat up straighter.

Scott perked up and asked, “What’s going on?”

Chris merely shrugged and asked Raina again, “What’s going on? Are you okay? Talk to me!”

When she was able to catch her breath, Raina cried out, “My mom died.”

“WHAT!” Chris yelled, jumping up from the couch and began pacing back and forth in his living room. Scott straightened up and watched Chris intently in the hope of finding out what is going on with their close friend.

“She died last night… in the hospital. It was a heart attack,” Raina choked out as best as she could while crying over the death of her mother, “We thought it was just the flu. She was feeling well all day…throwing up…not looking great. My dad called the paramedics, and when they got to the house, they told us that it was just the flu and that it would best not take mom in as she would only be waiting in the ER. But then we had to call them back an hour later because she got worse. She was barely incoherent and was drooling,” Raina stopped to catch her breath and sob but went on to share, “It was awful, Chris. You should have seen the look on the paramedics’ faces when they came back and saw her condition. You could see that they realized they fucked up. Oh my God! My mom is dead, Chris. What am I going to do?” 

Chris was at a loss for words. He had no idea what to say or what to do. All Chris could do was listen to her desperate sobs. It was not long before he felt tears begin to sting his eyes. Chris sat down at the dining room table, put his head in his free hand, and cried along with his best friend. 

July 24, 2019

“Only one more night to go. You excited, kid?” asked Jerry, Raina’s manager, as he sat on the couch in her dressing room. She was on break from rehearsals. 

“I go back and forth between wanting to throw-up to crying. I am not quite sure if it is crying out of joy or because I am so nervous,” she revealed honestly.

“What do you have to be nervous about? You have done this show a bunch of times. You have gotten raved reviews from the workshops and the previews. You are going to kill it,” said Jerry and continued with, “When are you going to realize that you are one of the best performers out of your peers? Hell, Variety magazine referred to you as the ‘the best vocalist of her generation.’ That is a huge praise. You wouldn’t have come this far if people thought you didn’t have what people call ‘it.’ You’re no flash in the pan, kid.”

“Thank you, Jerry. I love you; you know that. I am so lucky to have you in my corner,” Raina replied with a smile, but then asked, “What am I going to do when you leave me, though? Who am I going to get to watch out for me?”

“That is not something you have to worry about today. I am not going anywhere, Raina. You talk to your dad lately?”

“Uh…yeah. He’s doing alright,” Raina said as she sat down next to Jerry on the couch and shared that her dad was coming to see the show.

“Wow! No offense, but I am surprised he is leaving Long Island to come to see the show.”

“You and me both. Dad is making a trip the week of his birthday in August. I think I am going to ask Chris to join, if he can, that is. He and my dad have always gotten along, and I am sure both would be happy to get to see each other….and why are you giving me that look, Jerry?” asked Raina curiously.

Jerry just chuckled and shook his head, “Nothing, little one. I am simply happy that you and Chris have managed to stay friends for this long. Just friends, right?”

Crossing her arms over her chest, Raina responded, “Just come out and say what you want to say, Jerry. Lay it on me. Don’t hold back now.”

“Okay. Have you ever thought about being more than friends with Chris?”

Taking a deep breath in and letting out, Raina contemplated her thoughts about Chris. Had she ever thought about being more than friends with Chris? Technically, they were more than friends. They started a friend with benefits relationship five years ago, but no one knew about it, especially people in their inner circles. Their relationship was just for them without the fear of anyone’s judgment and scrutiny.

She got a taste of that when she dated Tom Hiddleston back in 2016. Neither fully comprehended how much their coupling would turn their worlds upside down. The media frenzy was something she and Tom had never experienced. For some reason, people could not wrap their heads around the notion that this English actor who was posh and well-educated would date a songstress from New York who had a reputation of being reserved and reclusive. It did not help when both fandoms got involved in the mix. Tom’s fans were brutal in their critiques of Raina. If they were not ragging on her clothes, hair, or overall looks, they were ragging on her music or personality. Social media allowed people to smear Raina’s reputation to the extreme. 

None of this she blamed on Tom as there was not much she could do. She knew he did not condone the horrid behavior of some of his fans. However, there was a small part where Raina wished he said something to get them to back off during that time. It was an eye-opening experience for Raina in certain areas but mostly left her confused about what she wanted in a partner. 

With Chris, their friendship grew naturally. It was as if the universe intervened and made sure these two individuals were important fixtures in each other’s lives.

“Jerry, you know better than anyone that if you find a real friend in this business, then you hold on to them. That is all I am going to say on this matter.”

Jerry put his hands up in surrender, “Fair enough. I trust you know what you are doing, kid.”

Later that night, while Raina was lounging on her couch in her penthouse, she went through the text exchange she had with Chris throughout the day. 

1:30 p.m.

Chris: We’ve landed. After we get our bags, we’re going to head to the hotel. 

2:45 p.m.

Raina: Hey, been super busy with interviews and last-minute rehearsals this morning and afternoon. Glad you guys made it safely. Where are you guys staying?

Chris: The Frederick Hotel.

Raina: That is a nice hotel. Not far from where I live too. Only a few blocks away from each other. Do you all want to come over for a nightcap?

Chris: Shouldn’t you be resting up for tomorrow?

Raina: Please, no amount of rest will help ease my worries. Murphy’s Law, remember. If anything can go wrong, it will go wrong. I guess I just have to accept that some things are out of my control. 

Chris: You got nothing to worry about.

Raina. I have to get back to rehearsals. Talk to you later. Bye.

6:30 p.m.

Chris: You home yet?

Raina: Yeah. What are you guys up to?

Chris: Getting ready to head out to dinner at Serafina. Do you want to come along to join us?

Raina: Thanks, but not tonight. It’d be best for me to take it easy for the rest of the night.

Chris: Gotcha. Do you mind if I stop by later? 

Raina: If you plan on stopping by, then can you please bring me some takeout please?

Chris: What do you want?

By eight o’clock, Chris was sitting on Raina’s couch scrolling through Netflix while she ate the minestrone he brought from the restaurant. 

“Goddamn, this soup is good. What did you eat?” Raina asked as she continued to slurp her soup.

“Cacio e Pepe. Then the three of us split dessert. Well, mom and Scott ate most of it. You know I’m not a dessert person,” informed Chris and continued with, “What do you want to watch and please don’t say Gilmore Girls. You know I can’t stand that show.”

“Don’t hate on Gilmore Girls.”

“Uh…you hate on Gilmore Girls all the time. If you can’t stand them so much, then why do you watch it?” asked Chris.

“Because, despite all of its flaws, the show has a lot of heart. No, don’t pick Schitt’s Creek. You haven’t seen it yet, and we need to do a proper marathon viewing party. No, not Friends or The Office. I’m not in the mood to watch Parks and Recreation. Ooh, Derry Girls! Pick that one,” ordered Raina.

When Raina finished her dinner, she got up to put her bowl in the kitchen sink and asked Chris if he wanted something to drink. 

“Just water.”

Opening the fridge to retrieve two bottles of water, she saw the gift she got from Chris nestled on the top shelf. It brought a smile to her face seeing the gift box. While she did open the box to see what was inside, she had yet to open the fortune cookie.

“Thanks for the gift. The fortune cookie looks good. I can’t wait to eat it,” said Raina as he handed Chris his bottled water.

He took the water from and replied,” Oh, you haven’t opened the fortune yet?”

“Nah, I was gonna wait until you got here.”

The message that Chris included in the gift was still very much on his mind. He was continually wondering how Raina would perceive it. Would she be happy? Mad? Upset? It was driving him mad, not knowing.

“Maybe you should open it now?” Chris suggested hesitantly. 

“Yeah, sure. Can you get it? I’m going to brush my teeth. I need to get the minestrone taste out of my mouth.”

Raina sprinted from the couch to the stairs as Chris slowly stood up from the sofa. He continued his slow pace to the kitchen and opened the fridge to take out the top shelf’s gift box. As Chris stared at the box, he realized that the content of what was inside could change his relationship with Raina forever. It could bring them closer or put distance between them.

“All you have to do is be honest. Just be honest about your feelings. Even if Raina doesn’t feel the same way, she won’t drop you as friends. You mean a lot to her, and she values her friendship with you,” the voice in Chris’s head reassured. 

The sound of excited clapping broke Chris out of his thoughts, and he looked up to see Raina skipping over to him happily. He pushed the box towards Raina, and she began opening it. She carefully pulled out the fortune cookie, which was wrapped in a clear plastic bag. Slowly opening the plastic, she pulled out the cookie and placed it on the clean counter. 

“Oh my God. It’s so pretty. A chocolate lover’s dream,” she admired and hugged Chris.

“You’re welcome, my little cookie monster.”

“I almost don’t want to ruin it.”

“Well, you going to have to see my message inside,” Chris told her.

“Oh right, there would be a message inside it. I was too amazed by its beauty that I forgot about that part,” said Raina and began to break the fortune cookie in half. 

Before she could read the message, Chris spoke up, “Raina, wait! Before you read that, just…” 

However, she proceeded to read the message before Chris get his words out. He could not breathe while she read and stared intently at her as he mouthed the words he wrote. 

Lips trembling and eyes watering from the tears about the form, Raina immediately hugged Chris. He was shocked at first but instantly hugged her back. 

When pulling back, she said, “Thank you. This is so sweet,” wiping the tears from her eyes, Raina continued, “I’m going to keep this forever. I’m going to frame it one of those fireproof picture frames, you know. Or the one that is used to hold the U.S. Constitution. I’m going to get one of those, and this will go in it.”

She went in for another hug and gave him a quick kiss on the lips. Raina took a piece of the fortune cookie and popped it into her mouth. “Alright, I’m going to put this in a safe place so that it won’t get ruined. I’ll be right back.”

 Chris stared at her retreating back and was left confused. That was not how he expected it to go down. “You were worried she’d be upset. She was happy. More than happy. But did she get the underlying meaning of his words?” Chris’s inner voice asked himself. 

The relationship between Chris and Raina was so blurred that she could not see a declaration of love when it was literal in front of her. However, Chris could not blame her for not being able to read between the lines. She had so much on her plate at the moment that maybe she was able to process his words. 

“Okay, I placed it in a clear file holder so nothing can spill on it,” said Raina when she came back into the kitchen area and asked Chris if he was okay when she saw a worrying look on his face. 

“Yeah, I’m fine. I’m glad you liked your gift. You deserved it. I should start heading out. You need your rest for tomorrow, and I don’t want to keep you up.”

Raina was taken back by his sudden change in demeanor. She noticed he looked a little sad and defeated for some reason. “You don’t have to leave just yet. I mean we can still watch some TV and relax. You okay, Chris? She asked again.

“I’m good. Tired is all. It’s been a long day.”

Raina nodded and followed Chris to the front door. “Chris,” she spoke and looked at him. His ocean blue eyes were one of her favorite things about him. Often, she could find herself lost in staring at them. Reaching out the tenderly grab his face, she placed a kiss on his lips. It did not take long for Chris to reciprocate. He pulled Raina closer to wrap his arms around her. Opening her mouth to allow his tongue inside, she allowed Chris to take the lead. 

Raina slowly began to walk them both back over to the living area, but Chris proceeded to step back. 

“I should go. I don’t think it would be a good idea if we, we shouldn’t…not tonight,” Chris professed, although it killed him to turn her down. Chris wanted nothing more than to stay the night. 

Feeling a little defeated, Raina nodded and said, “Okay. I understand.”

Reaching for the door handle, Chris said, “I’ll see you tomorrow. Sleep tight.”

With a small smile on her face, Raina countered with, “See you tomorrow. Goodnight, Christopher.”

“Goodnight, Raina,” he said, but Raina could hear a hint of sadness in his voice, and she for the life of her could not understand why. 

When Chris finally left, Raina went back into the kitchen and put away the fortune cookie. 

“I love you too, Chris. More than you realize,” Raina said to herself. Once again, she could feel tears about to form. 

“It’s going to be a long and sleepless night,” she said to herself as she prepared to get ready for bed.

#chris evans #chris evans x ofc #chris evans x original female character #chris evans fan fiction #cevans

[alliswell21]

This was a prompt I saw @lovely-tothe-bone had posted. You know me, I suffer “shiny-red-ball syndrome” or actually “puffy-tail-plot-bunny Syndrome”

Anywho... Rated M for language and adult situations. Modern!Everlark. Also, I stole a line from @mega-aulover and I’m not sorry! 🙃

The Garage

The Panem Mockingjays were in the Super Bowl for the first time in history, a true Cinderella story of perseverance and teamwork that brought them to play against none other than the legendary Capitol Mutts, who were getting the beating of their life! 27 to 3 with only thirteen minutes on the clock and one timeout left.

The trophy was in the bag, and it was beautiful!

The Mockingjays were in possession; the Mutts ran an aggressive defense, but the Mockingjays’ quarterback sidestepped a tackle and scored a 30 yard touchdown.

The whole room in the Everdeen home exploded in cheers!

Katniss had been squirming half the evening in the loveseat she occupied with her best friend, Peeta Mellark, and decided she couldn’t take the tension anymore. She had to do something about it.

Looking around, Katniss stood up and motioned Peeta to follow her. She put a finger to her lips to shush him, then wrapped her hand around his, and pulled him out of the den, where their families were celebrating raucously the victory they could practically taste.

“Where are we going?” Peeta whispered harshly, trying not to trip over his feet.

“Somewhere quiet, where we can be alone for a minute.” She responded in a similar tone. “Now, stop walking so loudly, would you?”

“Sorry.” He said sheepishly, and really tried to step lightly on Mrs. Everdeen’s pristine hardwood floors.

They made it to the kitchen, but instead of turning left, to the staircase leading upstairs to the bedrooms, Katniss went straight, out the kitchen door to the backyard, and on to the detached garage.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Peeta asked nervously.

The garage was Mr. Everdeen’s pseudo mancave, complete with a mini fridge, a rickety couch and an ancient TV set on top of his work bench. Their fathers hung out there for hours drinking beer, working on projects, deploring sports statistics and generally gossiping about whatever it was grown man gossiped about.

Katniss winked and closed the garage door with a click behind them.

"Our parents are so drunk, they won't even notice we left. Calm down." She told him as she fell to her knees, making quick work of his fly and undershorts.

Peeta tried to argue— honest! but Katniss was fast with those clever fingers of hers— her mouth on his cock shut him up quickly.

Peeta stood there uselessly, struggling between watching her suckle his dick while pumping the parts of him she couldn’t fit in her warm little mouth, and letting his head fall backwards and enjoy the ride until it was his turn to reciprocate the favor; and Lord in Heaven, did he wanted to reciprocate!

She had really gotten good at this, he thought when feeling the telltale tingling at the base of his spine. He was so close!

He couldn’t help his slow, whiny moan, “Katnisss… fuuuuck!” His eyes squeezed shut, his hands grabbed onto some surface he’d knocked his ass against when he started coming into Katniss’ gloriously wet mouth.

It wasn't until the door opened, that his eyes were able to focus again... on the angry face of Mr. Everdeen as he took in the sight of his daughter’s full mouth.

“What the fuck is this?!” The man slurred loudly.

Katniss scrambled to her feet, somehow blocking her father from seeing Peeta tuck himself back into his pants. But nothing prevented the man from watching his daughter wipe the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand.

It only took the man a surprising two steps to cross the garage and reach his child. He was about to grab her upper arm when Peeta pushed her behind his broader frame.

“I can explain!” Peeta shouted fanning out his arms to shield the girl.

“You can explain? What, how the two of you stabbed me and everyone else in the back by sneaking around like this?” Mr. Everdeen’s bloodshot eyes were crazed, spittle flew everywhere out of his mouth. “You can explain you disrespected my home and my daughter by taking advantage of her under my nose?”

“He didn’t take advantage of me!” Katniss protested ducking under Peeta’s outstretched arm to face her father. “I wanted to do it. I brought him out here ‘cause we like each other… a lot!”

Sensing danger, Peeta grabbed Katniss by the waist and shoved her out of the way. “Sir, I swear is not like—”

“You little shit!“ Mr. Everdeen took ahold of the boy’s collar and yanked him away from Katniss.

She leapt forward, scratching at her father’s wrist. “Stop it! Let him go!”

“What’s going on?!” Another man’s voice boomed in the chilly room.

As if the situation wasn’t mortifying enough, everybody spilled out of the house and crowded around the garage’s open door, watching the scene with wide eyes.

Mrs. Everdeen rushed forward to pry her husband’s fingers from Peeta’s crumpled, stretched out shirt.

Mr. Everdeen rounded up on his neighbor and best buddy, “I’ll tell you what’s going on. I caught your back-stabbing son defiling my daughter!”

“What? That is preposterous. Our Peeta is a good boy. He would never do such a thing. It was probably that wild child of yours that threw herself at him.” Said Mrs. Mellark in that condescending tone she liked using even on her own family.

“I beg your pardon?” Mrs. Everdeen dusted her slacks exaggeratedly. “Katniss isn’t wild!”

“It’s that boy of yours! I knew his innocent, helpful, quiet kid next door facade wasn’t to be trusted! He better not had gotten my baby pregnant, or there will be hell to pay!”

“First you’ll have to prove it’s his. I’m more worried my son could’ve contracted something!”

“How dare you insinuate—“

“Enough!” Bellowed uncle Haymitch, whom usually had his moments of deep wisdom when really inebriated. “Y’all are acting like a bunch of morons! All you’re accomplishing with this yellin’ is making your kids even dumber than they already are.”

Ouch!

Everyone stopped bickering at once, looking rightly shamed and partly stunned by Haymitch’s outburst.

“Now, there ain’t enough booze in this house to make freezing my ass out here, worth watching y’all bitch over two fucking 18 year old college students who’ve been glued at the hip since I can remember, doing the horizontal lambada together.”

Nobody argued, so Haymitch continued.

“I’m not saying what the Boy and Sweetheart did was smart, it was in fact pretty stupid. But you too did dumb shit as horny teenagers,” Haymitch glared a both sets of parents, now blushing. “Give the kids credit, they’re legally adults. You’re blind if you haven’t noticed them making puppy-dog eyes at each other. Is sickening!

“I’m starving, and it’s too cold for this shit!” Haymitch burped, “I’m going inside now.”

Peeta and Katniss were wrapped around each other during the hullabaloo. But slowly loosen their hold to face their family.

“I’m not… pregnant.” Katniss squeaked. “Not even a small chance.”

“Neither of us has any diseases.” Muttered Peeta scratching the back of his neck uncomfortably. “Not much chance for that either.”

“How can you be so sure?” Mr. Everdeen snapped, still not ready to let his anger go.

“What are you using for birth control? You can’t depend on condoms alone,” Declared Mrs. Everdeen.

“Mom!” Exclaimed Katniss scowling, “Geez! We are not actually doing it! What Daddy walked in on— and believe me, I wish he’d never seen that— is as far as we’ve gone.”

She peered up at Peeta and he smiled down at her, squeezing her hand in his.

“Look,” Peeta exhaled and then faced their parents. “We are sorry we didn’t say anything before, but we knew you guys would react… exactly like you did. We can assure you, nobody has anything to worry about. But just to put your minds at ease...” He took a decidedly shaky, deep breath and confessed, “We are still… virgins.”

“TMI, dude! Nobody needed to know that!” Called Peeta’s middle brother. His girlfriend’s bulging eyes followed the shit show with interest.

Peeta threw his brother a withering glare, but it was Katniss’ fourteen year old sister, Primrose, who answered.

“Oh please! Why the Hellman’s real mayonnaise are you here then, Rye?! You didn’t protest our parents belittling Katniss and Peeta in front of everyone, when Daddy interrupted their private moment! Grow up!” The teen crossed her arms over her chest petulantly.

Maybe Prim felt a tad jealous and kinda out of sorts seeing her secret crush’s girlfriend at her house, but nobody messed with her sister and brother-in-law on her watch! The thought made Prim looked guiltily at her parents; but then she remembered how they’d been screaming, blowing things out of proportion, and felt smuggly vindicated. She could still hold a couple of secrets for her sister without blabbing.

“Everyone should be happy Katniss and Peeta are together. They love each other and will keep each other safe! Uncle Haymitch’s right, you guys are just selfish.” Primrose turned on her heels so fast heading for the kitchen, her long, blond braid smacked Rye on the chest with a dull thud.

Mr. Everdeen sighed. “I’m still angry with you both. And I still think you were disrespectful. But I guess Prim’s right. We’re lucky Katniss is not bringing home some lazy hooligan with a criminal record. I just wished…”

“I know, Daddy.” Soothed Katniss still holding Peeta’s hand. “I’m sorry. We both are.”

“We, all are.” Said Mrs. Everdeen sidling with her husband. Then she turned to the Mellarks, “I think we all owe the kids an apology. And each other.”

Everyone apologized for the things they said and promised to be more supportive and less reactionary, despite still being disappointed Katniss and Peeta hid their relationship from them.

“Well, that was terrifying.” Peeta whispered shuddering when their families finally left them alone.

Katniss chuckled. “I know. I wonder if we should’ve told them this all started ‘cause we got shit-faced and eloped two weeks ago?”

Peeta smiled wryly, wrapping an arm around his “for-now” wife. “Nah. My mom would’ve gotten an aneurysm. She’d probably drag us to the hospital to get tested for STDS, pregnancies and DNA. In that order.”

“Yeah but, they would’ve calmed down when we told them we were getting an annulment.” Katniss said a little unsure.

“About that…” Peeta trailed off catching Katniss’ curious eyes peering up at him from his chest. “What if… we just kept… married?”

Katniss bobbed her head, although there was nothing to consider, really. “We could apply for housing together.” She offered.

“Share expenses.”

“Go further... than oral?” The question came out high pitched and ragged.

Peeta breathed out a sigh of relief, he wasn’t the only one thinking about it.

He nodded readily. “Together?” He bit his lip, and pulled a black pouch out of his pants pocket. A ring with an iridescent pearl on top spilled into his open palm.

Katniss’ eyes widened, but she lifted her left hand, spreading her fingers apart so Peeta could slip the ring in place.

Admiring her new jewelry, Katniss smiled.

“Together!” She confirmed rising on tiptoes to kiss her “for-Always” husband in the lips.

#everlark fanfiction #my fics #modern #fluffy ending ‘cause I cant help it

[becausenoothernameisavailable]

The Princes's diaries

Prompt from wefoundwarblerland’s post : Dalton AU where everything about Justin is the same (including the gangs and everything), but he’s also the Prince of Wales. And Charlie is his boyfriend.

A/n : Dalton Big Bang 2020

Prompt: International Travel and Trouble in Paradise

“And to your left, we have Big Ben.” As the tour guide recited information about the Big Ben, Charlie trained his binoculars in delight as he and the other tourists on the Double Decker bus took in the beautiful façade. Their guide supplying information about the clock tower and the bridge they were parked on and the river below. This, however, lasted for a short time as the soon a traffic jam was formed surrounding the bus with loud honking permeating the air

“What’s going on?” Charlie asked the person closest to him who was peering down at the traffic. “No idea mate, there seem to a street fight/ bike gang thing on.”

“Don’t pay them any attention.” Their tour guide said above the din of the noise and continued speaking about Big Ben. While the others slowly started to pay attention to the tour, Justin noticed that gang had reached now reached their bus and a guy on a bike stopped nearby and pulled up his black visor and rubbed his eyes.

He had piercing blue eyes and Charlie thought he looked familiar. Soon the air was filled with the sound of the police approaching and the boy started his bike and turned around watching for his friend as if he was on a lookout. He whistled sharply and a group of guys looked up and immediately drove towards him.

Must be his friends, Charlie thought when the guy turned towards him, finding Charlie looking at him. He studied him sharply with his blue eyes and then winked and pulled his black visor down and drove away.

What was that Charlie thought to himself. Who was that?

“We now are making our way towards the Buckingham Palace which as you know is the London residence and administrative headquarters of the monarchy of the United Kingdom, His Majesty, King Richard and his family, Princess Lindsay - The Duchess of Edinburgh, The Prince of Wales and Heir to the Throne – Prince Justin and the Princess of Wales – Princess Laura.”

*

The tour bus dropped them off at the hotel where they were staying and Charlie got down wearily from the bus. “Bright early tomorrow morning.” The tour guide chirped and smiled and Charlie smiled tiredly and followed the group up the stairs.

He entered his room, thankful that the hotel had allotted them single rooms for their stay and smiled happily at his clean, white, bright room and the perfectly soft, turned down bed waiting for him when there was a knock on the door.

“Hey Mate.” Charlie looked into the familiar face of the tourist from earlier, “A bunch of us are going to the pub down the street for drinks and chips, you in?” Charlie nodded, it would be good to make some friends during the 10 days London Tour. “I need to wash up first and then can join you.”

“Cheers,” the guy smiled, “just ask the front desk for the directions, they have suggested the place.”

*

He was sure he had the directions down correctly, the concierge at the front desk even wrote it down for him but Charlie was sure he was lost. He peered down at the napkin again and looked at the street ahead.

A guy came scurrying out of nowhere and banged into him. “Sorry.” The guy said and looked up righting his clothes, “I’m in a bit of a hurry.”

Charlie turned towards him and he found him looking familiar. The guy had classic English looks with chestnut brown hair and blue eyes.

“You.” The guy said looking at Charlie, he smiled and asked, “Did you enjoy the tour.”

It was the same person from the morning, the guy on the bike with the piercing eyes, the one who winked at him and Charlie smiled a bit, so it wasn’t a coincidence.

“I, yes,” He nodded “It was good till this gang on bikes decide to show up and then it became interesting.” The guy smirked at him and studied his face, smiling gamely. “So your day was interesting.”

“Very.” Charlie flirted, looking into the guy’s face, studying him deeply; at the black fit shirt that emphasised his chest and the rolled-up cuffs that showed the definition of his arms, He looked familiar like as if he knew him from somewhere. The guy also looked at him carefully as if studying him, searching for something.

"They drove by the bus and well the leader, at least I think he was in charge considering how the other treated him, stopped next to the bus, rested, I think and then he winked at me and left. That doesn't happen to me every day," he confessed.

“He must have thought you were cute.” The other guy smirked and reached out to touch Charlie’s finger and Charlie moved close to him when they could hear yelling, “Your Highness, Your highness, stop.”

“Wait, the King is here,” Charlie asked looking around for the King. Surely he would be in a car surrounded by security. The other guy sighed, “Not the King, the Prince, “The King is addressed as Your Majesty.” ” Your highness is meant for Princes and Princesses. “ The guy said looking carefully at Charlie’s face.

“Sorry, still learning.” Charlie smiled and the guy smiled, “Your group went that way, two doors down, that’s the pub you need.” And Charlie beamed and looked at the guy through his eyelashes, “Can you come with?  You can teach me everything British so I don’t make a fool of myself.”

“Would love too,” The guy smiled and a trailed a finger up Charlie’s hand “but I got to be somewhere.”

“Oh,“ Charlie smiled sadly.

“Meet me here tomorrow, same time,” The guy said quickly as the footsteps sounded nearer, the yells of “Your Highness” not far behind and with a quick a kiss to Charlie’s cheek the guy ran down the street.

*

“So the Prince of England was out and about in London and without his usual security.” Charlie winced as girl next to him chattered loudly to her friend, not even paying attention to their tour guide who was reciting the itinerary for the day. “He was incognito.” She read holding the newspaper out in front of her.” He glanced at the paper or the British tabloid - The Sun, which was the correct word to use, he couldn’t wait for the evening where he could tell his admirer about the new words he learnt, and indeed the headlines read The Prince of Wales out and about.

“And he was right there where the pub was, he was right outside. I missed meeting the future king of England.” The girl wailed and her friend rubbed her back consolably.

Wait, it couldn’t be. He did not meet the future king of England!. The future King of England was not in a bike gang. It wasn’t. He glanced at the image of the Prince, while the boy looked eerily similar to the photo on the paper, it just wasn’t him. For one he was dressed differently and he didn’t have the dangerous sexy look in his eye when he studied Charlie and constant smirk on his lips.

The prince on the paper looked sad, even though he was smiling and greetings people. He looked lonely, Charlie thought. It wasn’t him. It couldn’t be.

*

“Hey, Stranger.” Charlie looked up and saw the guy, “If we are continuing to do this, you need to know my name. I’m Charlie, Charlie Amos.”

“So Charles then.” The guy smiled deeply, balancing his bike between his strong, long legs as he removed another helmet from where it was dangling on the handlebars. “Regal, I like it, It will do.” He nodded decidedly.

He handed the helmet to Charlie who took it. “I’m Justin.” He said looking carefully into Charlie’s eyes, “Hop on.” And Charlie secured the helmet on his head and hopped on the bike.

“Let me show you London through the eyes of true Londoner.”

They bypassed all the touristy scenes and Justin took Charlie to the places he would never have visited on his own, the lovely little park hidden amongst a sea of buildings, a quiet spot by the Thames Rivers – no it’s pronounced as Tems River, the place where you get the best fish and chips, the best beer on tap. The best pubs where they don’t card you. “No worries I am over 21.” “It’s 18 years in England,” Justin smirked and Charlie grinned.

It was amazing and Charlie just smiled as Justin shared small anecdotes of his life like; where he went to school and college – Eton and Charlie just held on to him tightly, his arms around Justin’s waist, his legs resting next Justin’s and Justin expertly manoeuvred them through the busy London traffic. He finally stopped outside a beautiful garden, St James’s Park, Charlie read and recognized the Buckingham Palace nearby.

“Are you sure we can be here?” Charlie asked as he looked around the beautiful area and at Justin who was looking at him carefully as if gauging him and Charlie smiled. He looked beautiful in the dusk, the setting sun painting a pretty picture, casting a glow around him and Justin took his hand gently and kissed it. “Come, No one can stop us.”

He led them through the gates into the park and they walked quietly, side by side, hands brushing each other’s until Justin caught his and linked fingers together and then they walked side by side, Justin showing him the views and pointing out specific aspects of the park all while their fingers were gently locked together.

They stayed by the edge of the pond till the sunset, Charlie leaning against Justin as he supported their weight watching the ducks swim past. “It’s late.” Justin sighed as his watch chirped an alarm, “I should probably get you back,”

“Hmm,” Charlie said sleepily and Justin smiled and kissed his nose. “My lips are right there,” Charlie whispered and bit his lips, eyes still closed even though his face betrayed the laughter that he was trying to control. “You don’t say.” smirked Justin kissing him deeply.

*

“I had a lovely time.” Charlie smiled and handed Justin the helmet. He had Justin drop him off in front of his hotel which was actually not far from the park and in fact he had passed by the park on way to the Buckingham Palace. St James’s Park, it now held a special place in his heart.

Justin pushed up his visor but didn’t remove the helmet and he looked exactly how he was when Charlie first laid eye on him. “So tomorrow then. “Charlie asked breathlessly and Justin winked and drove away.

*

Charlie thought about the kiss the entire night and even the next morning, as he was getting ready to visit the high street stores and the Warner Brother Harry Potter Tour.

“Breaking news, this just in, the Prince of Wales was discovered in the midst of a street war.” The news announcer was saying and lo and behold Charlie looked at the face of Justin, his kind, sweet, lovely Justin, who had a big bruise and a split lip, his Justin who was also His Royal Highness, the Prince of Wales.

He thumbed Justin's number immediately.

“Justin.” Charlie called out as he heard his voice through the phone, “Are you alright?”

“Charlie.” Justin said sadly and Charlie frowned was he hurt, “You saw the news. That means you know,”

“That you’re in a gang?” Charlie asked the announcer was telling more about the incident that took place late last night, probably the calls Justin kept getting towards the end of their date, date! “Well yeah, considering that’s how we met.”

“No, no the other thing,” Justin said softly

“I thought it was not true but then again you always looked familiar.” Charlie confessed, “ I just thought that you were cute and smart and kind and funny and,”

“You liked me for me.” Justin whispered and Charlie nodded and then realized that Justin couldn’t see him, “Yes I liked you for you, I didn’t even know about the other thing.

“I like you too.” Justin smiled “A lot.” and Charlie beamed but the call got interrupted, it seemed that someone took Justin’s phone away. “Hey, give me that.” And then the call got cut.

He immediately dialed Justin’s number again but the phone was switched off. Charlie rubbed his face worriedly. Justin was hurt and he didn’t know what to do, short of going to Buckingham Palace and asking to see Justin he had to no other idea unless he was still at the police station. They won’t arrest young princes right? Diplomatic immunity and all that. Charlie didn’t know but he hoped Justin was alright and then his phone rang.

The call came from a blocked number and Charlie answered it carefully. Please hold for His Majesty the King of England and Charlie gulped loudly, OH SHIT.

“Charlie. Charlie” Justin’s voice could be heard but Charlie felt a bit faint because the King of England knew his name and had just asked him to tea but he couldn’t reply and Justin was yelling at the King of England who also turned out to be his father, saying that he scared his boyfriend before they even go to know him and that this is why he doesn’t like them and then Justin’s mom could be heard soothing her son and father and son yelled along about trust issues and images to the public and what would the media say and Charlie laughed because they sounded like just another normal family albeit a royal one.

“Charlie?” Justin asked carefully, sounding calmer, “This is why dad you should have let me call him up.” He hissed, "You should never call anyone from the official line unless you want to actually kill them. “I am here.” Charlie smiled before father and son could go off again.

“Good, I am glad,” Justin said softly into the phone.

“You called me your boyfriend,” Charlie remembered. He could hear Justin’s sheepish laughter, “I meant to ask you today but things changed.

“Yes, they did,” Charlie said and remembered the evening’s invite to tea.

“Don’t worry it’s just tea with my family,” Justin said lazily,” And you can meet Laura, my little sister.”

“Thank you for calling.” Charlie said, “I had plans off marching up to Buckingham Palace and asking them to see you.”

“No worries.” Justin laughed, “You’ll be properly escorted in soon. A car will come for you. See you.”

*

Charlie didn’t know what one did when they met their significant other’s parents especially when your significant other was the heir to the throne and his father was the King.

But they came off looking like a normal family, Justin’s dad was tall and stately and his mom was sweet and kind and his little sister was cute. He fumbled with proper addresses for all of them considering he was in the presence of a King and his wife; a Duchess and a Princess.

“Call me Lindsay.” Justin’s mom corrected when Charlie greeted her, “I know exactly how it feels, I went through this when I met Richard’s parent for the first time, as a couple.” She shuddered, “Let’s just say that you should be glad you don’t get to meet them.”

‘So, you’re an American.” Richard said just as Charlie was about to take a sip of his tea. “Yes, Your Majesty.

He looked at his son, “And you’re planning a long-distance relationship.”

Justin locked his hands with Charlie’s and gave it a squeeze, “ Well he’s here for few more days so we still have time together and then there is always Skype and the internet, plus I can fly there every weekend.”

“You will not play with your studies.” Justin’s dad said sternly and his mom nodded.

“I got into Oxford.” Charlie said softly and Justin smiled and kissed him quickly on the lips, “Why didn’t you tell me.” He exclaimed, “This makes everything easier.”

“I just came to know.” Charlie said, “Got the email in the night, it’s why I came here on this trip in the first place, so I could familiarize myself before I move here.”

“You’re moving here as well.” Justin asked slowly, “Not just for studies.”

“I really like London.” Charlie said softly, looking carefully at Justin, clutching his hands tightly with his, “It’s growing on me.”  

Justin’s dad paled and looked at his wife, “Well, this changes things drastically.” She looked at her baby boy and how happy he was with the boy next to him and how they held hands and just looked at each other. “Well then, we should probably get to know him, properly, this time. Something tells me he’s going to be a permanent fixture in the household.”

#Daltonfic #daltonverse #daltonbigbang2020 #chustin #chustinfic #cp coulter's dalton #daltonbigbang

[paintingwithdarkness]

#9 bluepulse please

“Where do you think you’re going?”

It was rare that Jaime got drunk. It was even rarer that he made enough of a fool of himself while he was drunk that Bart literally had to drag him home by the back of the collar. But after ten tequila shots, a Mojito, a bad karaoke rendition of Taylor Swift’s “Love Story” (half of which Jaime’d sung in Spanish) and a conversation that had almost exposed some secrets which really needed to remain secrets, Bart knew it was time to drag his boyfriend back home to their apartment while the majority of Jaime’s dignity was still in tact.

It had started out as an innocent enough idea. A few of Jaime’s buddies from medical school had suggested going out for drinks now that finals were over for the semester. It had been a hard past few weeks of studying (Bart had seen just how stressed his boyfriend had been) and now that all of the sweat, blood, and tears had been spilled, everyone wanted to go out and celebrate.

Bart had been invited along because Jaime said all of his friends would be bringing their significant others as well. Of course Bart been eager to attend, wanting to meet all of Jaime’s friends and see the type of crowd his boyfriend was a part of. He’d been told plenty of stories, but Bart had never met any of Jaime’s med school buddies in person.

When they’d first arrived at the bar, a small group sitting at a table in the corner waved them over. Bart watched Jaime’s face immediately light up in recognition, and then he was being dragged over by the hand to meet everyone. He took a seat next to Jaime, who took a seat next to a tall, black-haired man with a beer in hand.

“You must be Bart.” The black-haired man set down his mug and thrust out his hand for Bart to shake. “I’m Josh.”

When Bart clasped onto his hand, he had to try not to cringe. Josh hadn’t bothered to wipe off the condensation that had accumulated on his palm from holding the beer mug. The handshake was cold and wet. As he retracted his hand, Bart tried to be subtle about wiping the clamminess off onto a napkin before placing it in his lap.

“This is my girlfriend, Sarah.” Josh slung an arm around a red headed woman sitting to his other side. She gave a dainty little wave. Bart idly noted that her long fingernails were painted a maroon red. The color reminded him of blood.

“It’s nice to meet you both.” Bart put on a winning smile, showing all of his teeth, then turned to receive introductions from the rest of the group.

The next man’s name was George. He had a brunet comb-over, steely blue eyes and a handshake that could crack bones. He was all hard edges and sharp lines, and Bart would bet money the dude probably read all of his medical texts while working out, because his biceps were bulging out of the rolled up sleeves of his button down.

In contrast, George’s girlfriend Grace was curvy and soft, golden hair curled into perfect ringlets and face gently powdered with a fine layer of makeup. She had some of the prettiest blue eyes Bart had ever seen, and yes, despite being gay and in a committed relationship, he could openly admit it. Bart could appreciate beauty where he saw it, and he knew Grace was definitely a catch. George was a lucky man.

“Jaime’s told us a lot of stories.” The last woman sitting at the table introduced herself as Terresa. Her black glasses glinted in the light overhead as she turned and gestured to the man sitting next to her. “This is my fiancé, Brady.” Both of them held their hands out to Bart.

Terresa’s black bob weaved gently from side to side as she gave Bart’s hand a firm shake. Her amethyst eyes caught his, and Bart could immediately tell that she was the voice of reason in the group. There was intelligence shining in her irises. Of course, Bart knew Jaime was smart too, but he tended to overthink things. When Bart wasn’t around to give Jaime the gentle knock on the head to snap him out of his never-ending circles of thought, someone had to be there to do it. Terresa was the most likely candidate.

Brady looked like the Boy Next Door. Bart was actually surprised there wasn’t an Eagle Scout badge pinned to his collar. The dude had perfect hair, perfect teeth and a perfect personality. It was probably a good thing it was his fiancé that was the doctor and not him. From what Jaime had told him, Bart understood that it took a certain amount of cynicism to want to go into the medical field. A certain amount that this guy just didn’t have.

“Cool.” Josh leaned his elbows on the table, pushing his empty mug to the center with his crossed forearms. “Introductions done. First round’s on me.” He raised a hand to flag down a waitress and ordered tequila shots for the table. When she came back with the tray, Josh began to distribute the glasses.

His girlfriend raised a manicured hand. “Can I actually have a martini? I’m not a huge tequila drinker.”

“Same here. Make that two martinis, please.” Grace chimed in.

The waitress wrote it down and walked away. Josh shrugged. “More for us then.” His sienna eyes swept around the table until they landed on Bart and Jaime. He shoved the two extra shots in their direction.

“You’re always so put together, man. I want to see you cut loose.” He gave Jaime a slap on the shoulder, to which the Latino winced slightly. Bart narrowed his eyes. He wasn’t really fond of this Josh fellow.

“To the end of working our asses off, and finally being done with those hellish finals!” Josh lifted up his shot glass.

“And to those of you who supported us throughout it all,” Jaime added, turning to peck Bart on the cheek. Cheers went up from Sarah, Grace and Brady. Everyone raised their glasses.

“To the new doctors!”

Bart wrinkled his nose at the taste of the tequila as he kicked back his shot. He’d never really drunk any type of hard alcohol before, and it wasn’t like he could get intoxicated anyway. His speedster metabolism would take care of it before Bart could drink enough to even feel buzzed. The most he’d ever really had was a couple of beers with Jaime over dinner on weekends. And even then it wasn’t any sort of contest. The beer helped Jaime to relax a little, and Bart was just happy to spend time with his boyfriend.

One by one the little glasses clinked back down onto the tray. “Who’s up for another?” Josh encouraged.

There was a general positive consensus around the table. As the waitress came back with Grace and Sarah’s martinis, Josh ordered another round of shots.

While they were all waiting, Bart and Jaime were gently bullied into downing the extra shots Josh had shoved at them. Again, Bart screwed up his face at the sting of the alcohol as he swallowed.

“Not too fond of the taste, eh?” George spoke up for the first time since he’d introduced himself.

Bart shook his head, slapping the shot glass back down. He wiped his mouth with a napkin to get the bitter remnants of the tequila off his lips. “I’m not much of a drinker.”

Josh gasped dramatically. “Jaime! What’s wrong with you, man? You gotta take your boy out for drinks more often! Then he’ll learn to appreciate it.”

Bart felt the scowl returning. He definitely was not a fan of this guy.

Jaime laced their fingers together, which helped allivaiate some of Bart’s tension. “It’s not really our thing.”

The black-haired man laughed. “Well it should be! Here.” He grabbed the tray from the returning waitress before she even had a chance to set it down. He distributed the drinks.

Jaime squeezed Bart’s hand under the table before kicking back his shot. Rolling his green eyes, Bart slammed his too. He set the glass down with a groan.

“I’m done,” Bart declared. If he wasn’t going to get drunk, there was no point in continuing to torture himself. “I’ll just order a beer or something.”

Jaime smiled at him. “If that’s what you want, Cariño.” Bart felt Jaime’s hand unlace from his own and settle on his knee. He returned the smile and gently rested his head on his boyfriend’s shoulder as his eyes scanned the drinks menu.

“Done already?” Josh tried to goad him. “We’re getting another round.”

Bart just shrugged. He was not going to be peer pressured by this douche. And he really hoped his boyfriend wasn’t going to be either.

When the waitress came back, Josh ordered himself, Jaime, George and Terresa more shots. Sarah and Grace got refills on their martinis and Bart ordered a strawberry daiquiri.

Josh laughed. “Y’know, I never really took Jaime for the gay type until he told me he had a boyfriend. But I suppose it makes sense now, after meeting you, Bart.”

He bristled. Bart didn’t like the way Josh’s comment sounded.

“I mean, you did say you were bi, right Jaime?” He clapped Bart’s boyfriend on the back again.

“And what does that have to do with it?” Bart was getting sick of this guy. He wanted to put him in his place. It was a shame that Jaime was actually friends with this asshole.

Josh raised his hands in defense. “I didn’t mean any harm by it. I just meant that you’re one of those more effeminate gays is all. It’s not such a stretch for Jaime to like a guy like you.”

Bart wanted to leap up from his seat and punch Josh. He’d barely just met the guy and already he’d gotten under Bart’s skin. Usually, Bart was a pretty friendly person, but he’d been insulted and he wasn’t going to just sit and take it.

Luckily he didn’t have to. “I happen to like Bart the way he is. He’s just as much a man as you are. And he’s funny, smart and pretty hot.” Jaime blushed as he looked down at the table.

Bart felt a small rush of pride that his boyfriend had defended him.

Josh just shrugged, brushing the whole thing off. “Whatever man. I don’t have anything against you guys being gay or whatever. Just trying to understand.” He cast his eyes back into the room beyond their little table, seeking out the waitress.

“Hey, drinks are here!” Josh effectively changed the topic and snatched the tequila shots, much to the waitress’ annoyance.

He, Jaime and their two friends downed their fifth round as Bart’s daiquiri and the girls’ martinis arrived.

Eventually, the group ended up splitting up throughout the bar. Terresa, Brady and George made their way to the darts board while Grace and Sarah moved to another table to carry on a conversation about shoes. Josh continued to order himself and Jaime shots, and tried to pry secrets out of Bart’s steadily getting-more-drunk-by-the-minute boyfriend. More than once Bart had to interject his way into the conversation to prevent Jaime from revealing anything about their non-civilian lives.

By the time the ninth shot rolled around, that asshole had convinced Jaime to get up onto the karaoke stage. Thus was the terrible “Love Story” rendition. What made it even worse was that Jaime felt the need to stare at Bart throughout the whole ordeal. It was sweet yes, but by the time Jaime was done bumbling his way through the song (half of the lyrics he’d sung in Spanish, the other half incomprehensible), Bart was red in the face, embarrassed for him. When he stumbled his way back to the table with a grin on his lips, Bart only sent an extra dirty look in Josh’s direction.

By then, it was getting pretty late and Bart felt like it would be appropriate to finally get tipsy Jaime home. Luckily, Josh agreed and asked Bart to help him round up the rest of their little group to make sure everyone had safe plans for getting home. Begrudgingly, Bart agreed.

It took some time, but eventually the two of them managed to get everyone in their little party back to the table. To Bart’s dismay, he realized that Jaime had ordered himself another drink while he was running around the bar. Bart knew Jaime had already drunk enough to give himself a hangover the next morning, and he was tempted to take the Mojito away, but his boyfriend looked so relaxed and happy and stress-free that Bart couldn’t bring himself to do it. It was rare that he ever saw Jaime not stressed out of his mind, especially since starting medical school. Bart supposed he could have one night.

“Alright!” Josh called out as soon as everyone was gathered around. “One last drink to finish the night, then we should all be heading home!”

Bart scoffed. It already sounded like Josh had had one too many drinks if the way his words were slurring was any indication.

“You all know what a body shot is, right?” Josh’s smirk made him look like evil incarnate. “Everyone’s gotta do one before we leave!”

Bart groaned. Of course it couldn’t have been easy. He was definitely going to have to talk to his boyfriend about hanging around Josh. The guy was the biggest jerk Bart had ever met.

Because of the large number of drinks that had been ordered, there were enough lime slices for everyone. Josh ordered the last round of shots, this time, enough for everyone, and grabbed the salt-shaker that was sitting in the middle of the table.

“Who’s first?”

Reluctantly, Terresa and her fiancé volunteered to go first. Brady held still while the black-haired woman prepared a spot on the back of his wrist with the salt and then took the lime slice between his teeth. Terresa made quick work of the mess, the shot and the lime, and then held still as Brady returned the favor.

George and his girlfriend went next, and then Josh felt the need to one-up both couples, making a big show of licking the salt from his girlfriend’s cleavage before passing the shaker to Jaime with a grin.

Bart honestly just wanted to get these last two shots over with. Doing body shots in a public bar like this wasn’t exactly appropriate and Jaime seriously looked like he was close to passing out. He just needed to get his boyfriend home.

With a sigh, Bart picked up a lime wedge and was about to place it between his teeth when Jaime swooped in with a surprise kiss. Despite it being unexpected, Bart couldn’t help melting into it. He could taste all of the alcohol Jaime had drunk, and despite not liking the tequila by itself, Bart had to admit that it tasted rather good when mixed with Jaime’s natural flavor.

He was ashamed to admit that it took him a few moments to snap out of it. Kissing Jaime was intoxicating, even without the alcohol. But Jaime was actually drunk. Bart was the sober one, which meant he had to be the responsible one. Reluctantly, he pulled away and placed the lime in his mouth.

Jaime looked slightly upset, but prepped Bart’s skin with the salt anyway. It was hot enough in the bar that everyone had worked up a thin sheen of sweat, and the salt crystals clung perfectly to his skin.

As Jaime leaned in, Bart swallowed slightly. His boyfriend had (knowingly) chosen a sensitive spot on his neck to place the salt. When his lips made contact with Bart’s delicate flesh, Bart sucked in a breath through his nose.

Jaime gently licked the salt from his neck, scraping his teeth against the skin slightly and moving his lips sensually. Bart had to bite harder into the lime to stifle his groan. Even in this drunken stupor that Jaime was in, he knew what he was doing. Bart had speed healing yes, but if Jaime decided to leave a mark, it would be visible for a few minutes before fading. Receiving a hickey in the middle of a public bar wouldn’t exactly look great on either of their parts.

Gently, Bart pushed Jaime away from him and grabbed the shot, bringing the glass to his boyfriend’s lips. Jaime drank it quickly, and then leaned back in to bite into the flesh of the lime, causing juice to spill down Bart’s chin. Bart spit out the peel and then raised a hand to wipe the tangy mess from his mouth with the back of his hand. He went to grab the other shot and salt from the table where they’d ended up after Jaime’s prep, but his boyfriend hooked his fingers into Bart’s belt loops, preventing him from going anywhere.

“Mmm,” Jaime hummed, voice husky, “Where do you think you’re going?” He leaned in to kiss Bart again, but this time Bart had enough self-restraint to hold him back.

“You’re drunk, Babe. We need to get home. It’s late.”

Jaime sagged against him. “Don’ wanna go home,” he slurred. “Te vas tan lindo ahora, Cariño. Quiero besarte toda la noche.” His voice was heavily accented and Bart almost swooned hearing it. Jaime knew all the right ways to turn him on and it was beginning to work. Bart needed to get them home before Jaime managed to tempt him.

“We’re in the middle of the bar, Babe. Not really the best place. Let me take you home.” Bart at least knew enough Spanish to get the gist of what Jaime had been saying before.

“Fiiiiiinnnne.” Jaime dropped against him tiredly, and Bart struggled to hold him upright. He was supporting about eighty percent of Jaime’s weight.

“Thanks for the drinks and fun time guys!” Bart called back over his shoulder as he walked Jaime to the exit of the bar.

“Hey! You can’t leave yet! There’s still a shot left!” Josh yelled.

Bart rolled his eyes as he shoved open the door. “You can have it, Josh! You’re a selfish jackass, and I don’t want you talking to my boyfriend anymore. Take the drink and shove it up your-!”

The door closed behind Bart and Jaime with a slam.

Alright Anon! That was it! Hope you enjoy it. This one was one of the longer drabbles I’ve written for this challenge. I really liked the idea of flirty, drunk Jaime. This prompt was perfect for it. Thanks for the request!

#bart allen #jaime reyes #bluepulse #yj #young justice #offensive language #drinking #some ocs #prompts list #drunk jaime #flirting