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deandoesthingstome · 7 months

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Medieval Fantasy

Pairing: Witcher!Geralt x Reader

Summary: The offerings at this hotel, I swear.

Word Count: 5.1K

Warnings: 18+, NO MINORS, fingering, oral sex (m and f receiving, 69), p in v (cowgirl, missionary), monster fucking (right?).

A/N: I suppose, strictly speaking we're not fucking the monster, but he's still a treat, so enjoy!

A/N 2: (Edited) I do owe @augustsprincess a little thank your for an idea; I played it out during the group chat here, but I probably wouldn't have included it at all if not for you, so *smooches*

Fantasy Hotel Masterlist

Mike ordered a pizza from room service for the last hour of your reservation with him once he flipped the time switch. You sat cross-legged on the couch with him, munching happily while he narrated the ridiculousness of the rest of the scenes to your scary movie, making you giggle where you’d normally be hiding behind a blanket. You’d remember this night fondly for a long time. Mike’s easy going way had put you completely at ease once he noticed you were a little hung up on Walt.

He unfortunately didn’t know anything about how to get a hold of your missing object of desire.

You set the scene for the story pretty much as it was, but added more spook and gore, opting to split up the experience into two nights. One with live Mike, just barely slipping out the window before the parents came home from their Halloween night costume parties, only to be killed by the tow truck driver who showed up when his car, parked around the corner from the house, wouldn’t start. He was hung on the hook that should have hoisted his beater onto the truck. And one a few weeks later, when the heavy drag of the chains and hook across the attic floor led the heroine to investigate, only to be taken swiftly and with no mercy by her incorporeal boyfriend. Not rough, just urgent, insistent, longing for some other connection that would allow him to leave the vicinity of his undoing. If he could have taken her outside on the sidewalk without prying neighbor eyes, he probably would have.

You put the notice up after you posted. The next would be your last regular monster fucking post. You were taking a hiatus to work on your first novel.

sendmeanangel: and then Walter burst through the window, all wolfed out darkgothnightengale: while they were both fucking you??? sendmeanangel: yeah, and i can only think my subconscious was trying to not kill me when it chose August and Mike for that experience. I can’t imagine having anything else inside me while getting fucked by the Bull MNstrluvr: i would kill for a dream like that darkgothnightengale: well, did he take you away? sendmeanangel: i woke up!!! darkgothnightengale: and still no luck finding him? sendmeanangel: no. i found a guy who seemed like him, but he’s in Minnesota. Or was. It’s like his online presence is either non-existent or ended abruptly at least ten years ago MNstrluvr: another ghost lol! sendmeanangel: very funny. Mike was a lot of fun anyway. I needed that darkgothnightengale: and you’re still going back? sendmeanangel: i’ve never heard of a witcher. He just showed up on the site the other week and i bet he’s softer than he looks. I booked him at the same time i booked Mike, so it’s already scheduled and i could do with one more amazing adventure before i give it all up darkgothnightengale: i still don’t understand why. If you don’t have walter, what’s the harm? sendmeanangel: there’s no harm. Obviously i’m free to do what i want. But i think about him all the time. And i just think maybe it’s time for a break MNstrluvr: when you find him you should see if he’s up for booking a room with you so you can recreate that dream sendmeanangel: oh my goddddd!

“We certainly hope you haven’t been displeased with your experiences here,” the desk clerk asked gently.

“What? No! Everything’s been wonderful. Why do you ask?” you inquired, at a loss for what may have precipitated the comment.

“We noticed you hadn’t made another future booking yet.”

“Oh, that,” you stammered. ”I just…no, everything’s fine.” You fingered the edges of the card stock bearing the elevator code to get you to L2 and tightened your grip on your bag reflexively. Just a trick you used to bring you back to steady.

“Well, please. If there’s anything at all we can do for you…” You smiled and cast your eyes down so as not to betray your true feelings, but glanced up quickly to try to judge the meaning behind the next statement made with a hint of weightiness. “Anything at all.”

“Thank you,” you offered. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

The elevator opened to a small wooden hut, a place for your belongings and coat, a small wash basin filled with still steaming water and fragrant scents set on a wooden stand. You disrobed, dipped a washcloth in the water, and bathed yourself with the enchanting smells, then grabbed a linen towel to dry off before climbing into the outfit you’d selected for the fantasy. You slipped the silver dagger into the holster you’d strapped to your thigh and dropped your heavy skirt down over it before wrapping the cloak around your shoulders.

You had no idea what you were walking out into, only that if things got too hairy, as they absolutely could, he’d be there to save you. There to comfort you.

You stepped out onto a wooded path leading to a trail along a marshy bog, mostly full moon shining in the sky above you. You were never going to get over the mechanics of this hotel that made it seem like you were in at least five distinctly different places, some of which were outside, while still housed in the same building. But you were solidly on the side of possibility. Monsters were real. Magic was real. This hotel was real.

You carried a small basket of goods, as if headed to a market or maybe home from one. The path ahead of you seemed less than ideal and you began to wonder if you’d made a wrong turn. The churning and bubbling of the bog was lost on you as you looked around for another path that might lead to more solid ground, grateful for the light of the moon since a flashlight app was absolutely not happening, as your phone was left back in the hut.

Suddenly, a loud shriek sounded from the liquid and a large figure began to emerge, long twig-like legs reaching into the space above it as if searching for something. You dropped your basket and ran as soon as it became obvious the thing it was searching for was you. A moment’s respite allowed you to reach under your skirt and grab the dagger before you resumed fleeing away from the monster but suddenly a creepy crawly leg swept around you and it was all you could do to jump out of the way.

You stumbled when you hit the ground, but landed on your back, which meant you could stab up at whatever was coming at you and you did. The blade wasn’t long enough to do full damage, but some gore dripped down your arm as you registered a little casualty point and you pulled back and stabbed again as quick as you could, completely unconcerned with whatever came oozing out. It had to be better than being dead, you thought.

You heard another roar and the distinct slice of a finely crafted blade through the air and the legs that had you trapped were suddenly no longer attached to the larger body that was stalking you. It gave you time to move, scramble out of the way and find a spot to regroup. From behind the boulder you saw him. Leather clad, silver hair flowing, steel blade drawn and hacking through more limbs. As he spun for another attack, you glimpsed his dark eyes and shimmery, pale skin.

It was maybe not the time, but his ass looked great too.

“Little help,” the strained call came, as he flipped the beast over, tackling what you took to be the lower extremities. A smooth patch on the chest seemed like it was made for stabbing so you climbed onto the rock and jumped, landing right on top of the beast with your tiny blade finding a home in the furry goo.

One final, ear-splitting shriek and the deed was done. Your compadre stood and held out a hand to help you up and off the steadily shrinking body of the buggy creature you’d just slayed. You felt your feet touch solid ground as you looked up at the mountain of a man who stood before you.

“Alright?” he asked. “I think you got ‘im, but we should head out in case there are more. I don’t think tonight is the right time for this. We’ll come back tomorrow and finish the job.”

“What job?”

“Okay, sure. This wasn’t why you were walking alone late at night in a Krak infested bog? Are you telling me you weren’t hired to clear the area?”

“No?” you answered, unsure what the words coming out of his mouth meant. Was this what a witcher did?

“Were you hired for anything?”

“I’m really not sure what you mean.” You had to find a way to talk to this man coherently. You remembered your basket. “I was just walking back to town from a market. I think I got a little lost.”

“I think you got a lot lost. Can I help you find your way back? I’m Geralt.” His black eyes were ringed with dark circles, but in the moonlight, those looked like they were fading slowly.

You offered your name and a hand, which he shook, and you felt a line of heat rush straight through your arm, down your chest, and into your core. You gasped as the last of the shadows over his face and eyes dissipated, leaving you staring into amber eyes full of flame. The memory of lights piercing the shadows the other night flooded your brain. What if that wasn’t Walter, as you suspected? But no; the howling.

Geralt helped you locate your discarded basket, into which you stuffed your goo-covered corset and cape, eager to be free from the stench and hoping desperately that dry cleaning would do the trick when you were home. You mounted his horse, Roach, with his assistance and he led you into town. He made a beeline straight for an inn, dropping you off at the entrance with instructions to ask about lodging while he found boarding for his horse for the night.

“Oi! You’re late!” an oversized brute behind the bar exclaimed in your direction as you entered the tavern and you froze, unsure what part of the fantasy this could be. “Have ya lost control of yer legs suddenly? Bring the goods here. Now!”

You looked down at the basket with a realization that was confirmed by another shout.

“Yes. That. The basket. Now!”

You were about to begin the trek across the wooden floor to hand off your basket to the foul looking man, when a pair of comforting hands came to rest on your upper arms, holding you firmly in place.

“I think you have the wrong merchant. This basket of goods is mine,” Geralt’s deep and soothing voice growled. “And we require rooms for the night.”

Rooms? Was this not happening?

“Almost full tonight, Witcher. Only one room left.” You stifled a snort at the cliche of it all.

“We’ll take it. And I’d venture to say you’ll want to provide a meal and round on the house. At least one of your swamp monsters is already dead thanks to this one.” Geralt stepped you into the tavern and over to the bar where a key dangled from the innkeeper's hand.

“She took out a Krak?”

“Practically single-handedly.” There was something like pride in Geralt’s voice, and maybe a little admiration, though you definitely didn't handle that on your own. Still, you grabbed the key with a smirk and turned to find an empty table. Geralt followed once he’d grabbed two tankards of ale, and two plates of stew with bread were set down in front of you after a few moments of awkward silence, during which you took in the clientele. How was the hotel paying all these extras?

“Wolf!” someone called from the entrance and for a moment you thought they’d seen Walter. You looked around, but found nothing other than another sizable man clad in leather and steel making his way to your table.

“Lambert,” Geralt acknowledged him, and introduced you. “What brings you tonight?”

“Just finished up a town over and heard of another job. Looks like you’ve already taken it on. Finished so soon?”

“Hardly started. First kill’s hers anyhow.” Geralt nodded with what appeared to be reverence in your direction.

“Beginner’s luck,” you demurred. “I don’t think a small dagger is going to be of much use with the rest of whatever those were.”

“Looks like I’ll be headed out at first light alone then, to complete the task,” Geralt mumbled, with a comforting look at you before turning attention back to Lambert. “I’d welcome your assistance with this one.”

A barmaid approached to set another tankard of ale in front of your new red-headed table mate and you didn’t miss the way her hand traced over his shoulder and her eyes met his as she walked back toward the counter to continue serving other customers.

“It’s a good thing you’ve found your bed for the night, since we’ve just taken the last one,” Geralt grumbled with a hint of tease.

“Unless you need my assistance with anything else?” Lambert’s tone was clear and they both turned their gazes slowly toward you.

It was a choice. You hadn’t asked for this, but you were being offered an option. Heat filled your cheeks and you cast your eyes down with a sudden shyness. Though two entirely different men, your dream from the other night was somehow presented to you on a platter, and yet…

“I don’t think I’m anything Geralt can’t handle on his own,” you replied, aware this was your call and no one else's.

With the sleeping arrangements out of the way, you spent the next hour or so enjoying stories of training and fighting. If your ears didn’t deceive you, several of their completed jobs seemed to include gratitude delivered by way of sexual favors, sometimes alone, sometimes together. They were cheeky and sly with the language, but the innuendos were there and you couldn’t stop yourself from thinking about it.

You waived off another round of ale and professed you’d much rather find a tub of warm water to sink into for a bit. Geralt agreed and you both said your goodnights to Lambert.

Settled into the room, you were surprised to find there really was a wooden tub full of tepid water. A large cauldron hung over a roaring fire and you watched as Geralt used a rudimentary crane-like contraption to hoist the pot over the tub and dump its boiling contents into the water below.

“It’ll warm the water for a bit, so you should take advantage now, if you were serious.”

“It doesn’t look like there’s room for both of us,” you mentioned with a little sadness.

“We can take turns, just don’t stay in too long,” he replied with a mischievous smirk. “Do you need any help with your garments?”

With your corset already removed, all that remained was to unlace the heavy woolen skirt and lift the flowing linen gown underneath it over your head. Geralt was a huge help nevertheless and your body shivered as you imagined his fingers tracing every inch of you, not just your waist or the lucky bits of leg that received his touch as he bent to grab the hem of your dress.

He held your hand as you stepped into the tub and sat down, knees bent against your chest. How would he ever manage to fit himself in here? you thought. While you swirled the water around you, you watched as he turned away to unbuckle his leathers and disrobe as well. You were right about his ass.

You smiled a little to yourself at how comfortable getting naked with him was and then you smiled wider when he turned to face you once again, approaching you in all his glory and settling down onto a stool next to the tub with a washcloth in his hand.

Geralt offered to help you wash off, then dunked his hand into the water when you accepted. He ran the soft rag along your back, down your arms, across your chest. He took a few moments to run the soaked cloth along his body as well when the water began to cool much faster than you’d hoped, leaving no opportunity for him to sit in the tub himself. When he “dropped” the rag while dipping it back in the water for another pass, he didn’t hesitate to reach deeper into the tub, fingers searching the bottom for the cloth but finding your bottom instead. He leaned forward to complete the kiss you had asked for with a lick of your lips and smiled into your gasp when his fingers made their way between your legs.

“You know,” he started after pulling away from your hungry mouth, “I do feel as if I owe you a bit of gratitude myself.”

“Why, whatever do you mean, Geralt?” you gently taunted with a fake bit of naivete.

“You were the hero tonight. You deserve a reward.” He stood from the stool, exposing his hardening length, and helped you to stand.

“And will you be my reward?” you purred, clasping your arms around his neck as he lifted you out of the tub.

“Gladly,” he replied, slipping his hands eagerly down your side body and around your thighs to wrap your legs around his waist. He captured your mouth again with a searing kiss as he walked toward the bed and deposited you on your back, legs splayed wide and waiting for him.

“Maybe you could finish what you started.”

He dove to the bed next to you and cupped your cunt with a rather large hand.

“This is just the beginning,” he promised as he bent two fingers and slipped them inside. He watched your face with intent as he pumped his fingers in and out, teasing more and more slick from deep inside you. He kissed you when he added a third finger, swallowing the moan that ripped from your throat.

You couldn’t control your hips if you wanted to, bucking up into his hand, trying to pull him in deeper, trying to find the grind that would let you explode. His lips on your jawline, his tongue on your neck, kisses on your collarbone before he nuzzled into you and whispered how good you fucking smelled from here already. All these words of praise and touches of desire sent you right over the edge with an urgent need to crawl back up and do it again.

He must have been expecting you to take some time to recover because he was off guard when you pushed at his shoulder and sent him to his back so you could sit up and swing your legs over his. Settled on his thighs with an eye toward his very large erection, you smiled and made clear your intentions.

“I want you, Geralt. All of you.”

“However you’d like,” he grinned back, one arm tucked behind his head and the other reaching to stroke himself.

“Fuuuuuuuhhhck,” you moaned, watching how he handled himself, sure saliva was probably dripping from the side of your mouth. “Kinda like that.”

You scooted back down his legs and leaned forward, eager to let him feed you the cock he was keeping hard for you. As with every other host, it was going to be impossible to take him all the way, but you were going to give your best effort on the parts you could reach. His hand motion shortened as your mouth took over servicing the head and a few inches of length. You let your tongue swirl around the tip and dripped saliva from your mouth to give both of you something to slide over.

Your pussy was still yearning for touch and since you didn’t need your own hands for the blowjob, you let one travel down your body and between your legs to trace along your folds. You rubbed two fingers over your sensitive clit, curling to dip them into your warm, wet opening a few times before returning to focus attention at the nub.

“I can help with that, if you’d like,” Geralt grunted breathlessly, the arm behind his neck reaching now for your body, prodding you to turn. While you continued to lave over Geralt’s prodigious member, you crawled around to find your knees on either side of his head and when you felt his hand smooth over your ass, you didn’t resist the pull.

You moaned around the cock in your throat while Geralt wrapped his lips around your pussy and licked his way into your slit. Eventually, he let go of his dick and wrapped both hands around your thighs, holding you close against his face and lapping in tandem with the bob of your head.

On more than one occasion you found you could not concentrate effectively on the head you were giving, since the head you were receiving was so mind blowing. You found you had to lift your mouth off his cock and beg for more, scream for him to make you come. When he did, you were able to return to pleasuring him, since he didn’t seem to be in any kind of hurry to move you away. Instead, it was as if he were playing a game called ‘how many times can you come on this tongue.’

It became abundantly clear that you were never going to be able to return the favor. Geralt was not interested in coming down your throat, so when you felt like you couldn’t handle one more tender lick, one more urgent suckle, one more flick of the tip of his tongue on your sensitive pearl, you begged off. Pleaded for mercy.

“I’m not done,” he called from the other end of the bed. “I still owe you my gratitude.”

You peeled yourself reluctantly away from his cock and eased yourself around again, to lay alongside him, chest heaving and thighs shaking.

“I can’t fathom how one Krak deserves more than you’ve already given, but I’ll gladly take it, if only you’ll let me rest a moment.” You draped an arm over his chest and drifted your fingers through the dusting of hair you found.

“Perhaps some water?” he offered, reaching for a cup and the pitcher by the bedside. You shared the cool liquid, quenching one thirst while another still burned hot and needy.

“How long can you last? Surely I’m not that bad at oral.”

His laugh was so bright, it was as if the room was suddenly aglow.

“You are excellent at that. I just have a lot of practice not letting go until I’m sure my partner has reached the absolute peak. It’s a point of pride.”

He wasn’t arrogant about it, just matter of fact. He was here to serve.

“What if we simply waited until you were ready again? Surely that wouldn’t take forever.” You trailed your fingers down his chest, through the patch of hair at his abdomen, and onto his still rock hard length. Feeling how firm he was, letting your hand trace the veins, your thumb nudging the helmet of the head, you couldn’t help but be hungry for him again.

You found yourself straddling his thighs once more, eyeing his cock, begging for him to fuck you now.

“Do they have condoms in this time, wherever we are?” If an ancient Greek labyrinth had condoms, surely this medieval inn had them, too. You were still in the hotel after all. He chuckled and nodded toward the nightstand, where you found a plain wooden box that revealed what you were after when opened.

Geralt made to take the packet from you, but you resisted. “Allow me, please.”

You tore open the package and worked the rubber onto the tip, then rolled the sides down and checked the fit. You let him make a final adjustment, but when he leaned up as if to roll you over, you protested.

“I’m good right here,” you purred, grabbing ahold of his sheathed cock and lifting up to position yourself right above him. You set him at your entrance, still dripping from your several orgasms, and lowered yourself good and slow. You were getting used to the size of these men, but that didn’t mean the start didn’t require some care.

Your eyes closed almost involuntarily once you’d taken him to the hilt and you sat motionless for a moment, feeling your core loosen around him. You began a steady pulse, up and down, as you opened your eyes to see him staring up at you with desire. He rested his hands on your hips, neither speeding you up nor slowing you down, just feeling the motion, feeling you.

After a few more strokes, you grabbed his hands and slid them up your body, pressing the palms of his hands against your breasts and tossing your head back at the sensation. He was more than willing to continue cupping and squeezing without your guidance which allowed you to set your hands on his thighs behind you, providing even more leverage for your rise and fall. Now you sped up.

“Fuck, Geralt, this feels so good,” you cried out.

“I can make it better,” he countered, slipping his hands around your ribs and pulling you forward, chest to chest as he captured your lips once more. With his hands firmly holding your head in place, he began to buck up into you and when it seemed like it was going to be to much, he let his hands drift down your back and onto your hips again, to hold you place while he set a punishing pace, thrusting ever harder and deeper into your pulsing core until he finally exploded with a roar. It wasn’t your peak, but you weren’t complaining in the least. He’d fucked you through several tiny orgasms, each ebbing and flowing with ease. If there was nothing more, no additional gratitude the rest of the night, you’d be just fine.

But he was having none of it. He lifted you off and laid you to the side, urging you back against the head of the bed and lifting the covers for you to climb under. Once you were comfy, he left the bed to deal with the condom removal, grabbing an apple and knife from his bag on the way back. You sat and conversed while he fed you thin slices of sweet fruit, taking his own bites after every third for you.

Geralt was easy to talk to. Not overly wordy, but happy to chat nonetheless. Although you wanted to ask questions about the hotel, you knew it would be wildly inappropriate so you stuck with the script for the scene. What would it take to clear the rest of the Kraks? How dangerous would it have been had he gone alone? What’s the most danger he’d ever gotten into? The most fun? How often, exactly, had he and Lambert been thanked simultaneously?

That question was designed to reignite the passion in the room. You weren’t disappointed. The mere telling of the experiences got him rock hard again and it was with delight that you let him take the lead the rest of the evening. Once he’d donned another condom after feasting on your pussy one more time, he took you on your back, legs wrapped around his waist so he could grab at them when he needed to open you wider or lift your leg over his shoulder to find that one final deep spot that had you panting his name and coming hard around him. He took one more lingering kiss, then pulled out and tidied up, joining you back under the covers for a final round of pillow talk before turning in for the night.

Somehow, with the knowledge that the physical part of the evening was over, the air in the room changed and the conversation did as well. He wasn’t overly concerned with keeping the topics to the scene, but you found yourself second guessing if you should ask anything at all about Walter. It seemed rude, even though Mike had been completely open about it. This stay wasn’t that one.

You’d booked an overnight and Geralt hadn’t needed to bend time for you, if that was even something he could do, so you had no direct in with a question about his possible gifts. You could maybe ask why Lambert had called him Wolf, since they were both from the same school. But in the end it was Geralt who brought up Walter, without realizing what he was doing.

“I lucked into this spot. The hotel had just lost one of their best hosts, and the guy was booked solid weeks out. They’re still trying to find another werewolf to take his room, but in the meantime they contacted me and set up this level.”

“How did they find out about you?” you asked, trying to keep your heart rate from spiking at the hint of information about Walter.

“The way they find out about any of us, I suppose. Word of mouth.”

“Do you know what happened to him? The guy before you?” You didn’t think you were holding your breath, but Geralt’s answer told you otherwise.

“Not a clue. I try not to get caught up in the gossip. Hey, are you alright? You look like you’re about to faint. That’s a real skill since you’re already laying down.”

You tried to take a breath and laugh it off at the same time, asking your next question with a feigned indifference. “There’s gossip in this hotel?”

Geralt’s laugh was infectious. “There’s gossip at every hotel, but this one's something else. I think the vampire is the ring leader. I try to stay away from it. Keep my head down. Take care of my guests. And I shouldn't have even said that. Please forgive me.”

It was obvious he wasn't going to give up much more information, if he even knew anything specific to begin with. You tried to stifle a yawn, but Geralt noticed and stood up to blow out the candles illuminating the room, leaving one small oil lamp burning. When he returned to bed, you curled up into his warmth. You felt a little bad about imagining it was Walt you were snuggled next to, but it didn’t stop you from drifting asleep with a smile on your face.

You opened your messaging app as you were about to step out of the cafe where you’d gone for a latte the next morning after dropping your bag at home.

sendmeanangel: you’ll never guess who showed up to get coffee this morning

Everything HC Taglist: (as always, let me know if you want on or off)

@sillyrabbit81 @mayloma @geralts-yenn @raccoon-eyed-rebel @fvckinghenrycavill @kebabgirl67 @beck07990 @itsrubberbisquit @sweetdreamsofgelato @liveoncoffeeandflowersss @alexakeyloveloki @marantha @aireraume @angelmather1 @lizzystuffsthings @enchantedbytomandhenry @omgkatinka @littlefreya @avengersfan25 @just-chirpin @thesaucynomad @valacirca @henryownsme @summersong69 @foxyjwls007 @peyton-warren @irishavengersassemble @brattymum96

Special tag: @kittenofdoomage (cause sometimes you love my stuff and this one's another monster fucker lol!)

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if you asked and aren't here, Tumblr won’t let me tag you. Sorry!

#geralt of rivia #geralt x reader #geralt of rivia x reader #witcher!geralt #witcher!geralt x reader #henry cavill characters #geralt of rivia fanfiction #geralt fanfiction #spoopy season #medieval fantasy #mine #deandoesthingstome

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pascallftv · 5 months

Text

Girl Next Door— Part 2

Previous Part Series Masterlist

This is part 2 of a series. I highly recommend you read part 1 first!

Summary: Joel takes you to the store to pick out the materials for your new bathroom. At the store, you have an uncomfortable run-in with Joel’s ex wife.

Content: This is a plot based chapter, but it’s very important for the trope <3 Also thank you so much for the love on the last part. Part 3 will be here soon, she’s so cutesie and I can’t wait for you to read it :)

Word count: 4.6k

The drive to the nearest home improvement store was half an hour away. You watched as Joel popped a CD into the CD player in his truck, immediately recognizing the intro to the Rumors album by Fleetwood Mac.

“Rumors?” You said, blocking the sun from your eyes with your hand as you hit the road. Joel glanced over at you, the hint of a smile toying at his lips.

“I didn’t take you as a Fleetwood Mac kind of girl.” Joel said. You watched the veins on his forearm and hand as he gripped the steering wheel to make a turn.

“Dad always played this album when I was growing up. He loved to try and explain all the romance drama in the band to me.” You explained, tapping your thigh with your free hand to the beat of the song.

Your bangs fell softly over your forehead, the golden sun making your skin radiate. Joel kept peeking over at you to admire your beauty. You were so effortlessly beautiful.

“What else do you listen to?” Joel asked you. You looked over at him, admiring the way the sun made the brown in his eyes softer.

“A little bit of everything. I love classic rock because of my dad, but I dabble a lot into pop and alternative. I’d say my favorite artist is probably Aerosmith.” You bit your lip as you thought about your music taste. Most of the artists you listened to were probably after Joel’s time. “What about you?”

“Hmm.” Joel hummed in thought, tapping his forefinger against the steering wheel. “Anythin’ from the sixties and seventies. I love Pink Floyd and Elvis.”

“Interesting.” You said. You noticed a pair of yellow aviators sitting on the dash of his truck, so you reached out to grab them, placing them over your nose. Joel looked over at you, shaking his head.

“Makin’ yourself at home, huh?”

“Do I look like Elvis?” You bit your lip, snapping your finger and pointing at him.

“Somethin’ of the sort.” Joel teased, turning back to watch the road.

“He sure was dreamy wasn’t he.” You said, watching at the fields flashed by you as Joel accelerated down the highway. “I had such a huge crush on him when I was a teenager.”

Joel knit his brows together and glanced over at you with a look of interest, silently asking you to elaborate.

“I had a random Elvis phase. Dad made me sit down and watch a documentary about him one night and after that I was infatuated.”

“Didn’t take you as the type to like Elvis either.” Joel observed, glancing over to look you up and down. “I have his greatest hits CD in the glovebox.”

You grinned and opened the glovebox, sure enough finding the CD. You pressed the eject button and the CD player spit out Rumors, and you carefully replaced it with Elvis 30 #1 Hits. You quietly hummed along as Heartbreak Hotel began playing.

The rest of the drive, you exchanged small talk about music with Elvis playing softly in the background, making it go by in a flash. When you reached the home improvement store, the sun was beginning to set in the horizon. It was golden hour as Joel shifted the truck into park and you both climbed out. Joel caught himself staring at you again. You looked even more beautiful in this lighting and he couldn’t get over it.

You walked beside each other as you entered the store. Something about the smell of a home improvement store felt nostalgic to you. The crisp smell of fresh wood wafted into your nose, mixing with the smell of Joel’s aftershave.

“Let’s look at tiles first.” Joel said, leading the way through the aisles of the store. The store was overwhelming; there were too many aisles to count and you had no idea where anything was, but Joel knew the place like the back of his hand. Going to the hardware store was a common trip for him and he had the store almost memorized.

“Here we are.” He said, entering an aisle with a wide array of both shower and floor tiles. There were so many different colors and textures of tiles, and you immediately began inspecting some that caught your eye. You started with shower tiles.

Your eye landed on a beautiful, dark green backsplash that was coated in a gloss, emphasizing the shifts of color within it. You immediately fell in love with the style of it.

“I think this might be the one.” You said, pointing towards the forest green tile. Joel stepped closer, running his forefinger over the sample of the tile. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. In his chest pocket was a pen, and he jotted down the inventory number of the tile.

“Alright, now what about flooring?” He said, stepping to the left towards the arrangement of flooring samples. There was an overwhelming number of floor tiles.

“Joel?” A voice spoke behind you. Both of your heads snapped up, and standing there was a woman who appeared to be in her forties. She had blonde, blown out hair and a striking red lip. Her makeup was done boldy, and she was wearing a long black dress with sandals.

“Josephine.” Joel cleared his throat. His brows were knit together in irritation. His ex wife was the last person he wanted to see right now.

“And what brings you here?” Josephine questioned, her eyes flickering over to you. She eyed you up and down, taking in your appearance. Suddenly feeling very insecure under her stare, your arms crossed in front of you.

“Buying some things for a remodel.” Joel said monotone. He noticed the way she was eyeing you, and he knew she assumed the worst, but he didn’t care. In that moment he wanted her assumptions to run wild. He didn’t care if she thought you were his girlfriend.

“And who is this?” Josephine said in a catty tone. Her smoked out eyes locked on you, her red manicured fingernails tapping against her purse. You looked down at your own nails. Your nails were barren of any polish, and you felt childish standing next to her.

Joel told her your name and glanced over at you.

“I’m remodeling her bathroom for her.” Joel clarified, his finger toying with the sheet of paper in his hand.

“Hmmm, Lionel’s daughter?” She pursed her lips. “I’d say she’s a bit young for you, huh?”

Your stomach dropped and your eyes quickly landed on Joel. His expression was stoic and almost peeved.

“Where’s Rick?” Joel changed the subject. “Usually when I see you, your tongues are down each other’s throats.”

Josephine scoffed, rolling her eyes. It was then you noticed the massive diamond ring on her finger.

“He’s over in the light section. We’re replacing our chandelier in the foyer.” She said, glancing back over to you. “What’s a spry little thing like you need a new bathroom for?”

“I just moved back from Chicago to live with my father for the time being, and my bathroom needs some updating.” You explained, your voice wavering.

“Living with your daddy, huh?” Josephine’s eyes reverted to Joel’s with a smirk toying at her overdrawn red lips. “I remember those days. Mooching off my parents with no responsibilities.”

You shifted your weight on your feet, now feeling extremely uncomfortable. You weren’t sure who this woman was, but it was evident that she and Joel had a past and she was making it a point to make jabs at you. Joel’s fists clenched at his sides.

“That’s enough, Josephine.” Joel grumbled, shooting daggers with his eyes. She chuckled manically, looking back at you.

“Oh, please. You know I’m just being satirical.” She half smirked, winking at you. You stared back at her blankly.

“Jo?” A man’s voice interjected your attention. A man who looked to be in his thirties was walking towards you all. He appeared to be younger than Josephine, a ring also adjourning his finger. Putting two and two together, you realized this was her husband. His gaze stayed on Joel for a few seconds before landing on you briefly.

“Hi, baby.” She said, pulling him in for a rather long, wet kiss. You tried to hide your face of disgust and turned to distract yourself with the floor tile samples.

“Joel.” You turned your head at her husband’s voice. He was nodding at Joel, and Joel stared back at him with a blank stare.

“Well, we should get going.” Josephine cleared her throat. “It was wonderful to see you.”

Josephine patted her husband’s chest, her fake nails clacking together. Her eyes flickered over to you, but didn’t acknowledge you. The two of them walked away, leaving you with a steaming Joel.

“I fucking hate her.” Joel grunted, stepping closer to you, your shoulders bumping together. “I’m sorry about that. Don’t take anything she said to heart. She’s a miserable bitch.”

“Who is she?” You asked. His brows were taught together in frustration and he shook his head.

“My ex wife. It’s a long story.” He mumbled, lifting the piece of paper with the inventory number. You frowned up at him.

“We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, but I have all the time in the world if you want to tell me over dinner.” You said caringly, your hand reaching up to touch his arm. Joel looked down at your hand, his eyes then moving to your face. His brows drew together at the gesture, your touch sending heat up his arm. God, you were beautiful.

“I’m sure it would bore you.” He murmured.

“Far from it.” You responded sweetly, removing you hand from his arm and pointing towards a black and white checkered tile. “This one’s perfect.”

He nodded at you and quickly wrote down the inventory number.

“Let’s go pick out your sink and shower so we can get out of here.” Joel said.

You quickly chose your sink, faucets, toilet, shower basin, and shower head. You made sure to choose a detachable shower head, and you hoped to god Joel didn’t pick up on your intentions. Joel, on the other hand, knew exactly why you wanted a detachable shower head. All he could picture was showering with you and using it on your pretty pussy, but he quickly discarded his dirty thoughts, considering you were still in the middle of a home improvement store.

After you’d checked out and left, it was already dusk outside. The materials for your new bathroom would arrive early next week which was perfect. You both climbed up into Joel’s truck, him starting up the engine. Elvis began playing softly through the speakers again. You glanced over at Joel, his mouth turned downward in a frown. The interaction with his ex wife was still bothering him. He was incredibly guilty; it was his fault she degraded you and he should’ve blown up on her right then.

“Where would you like to eat?” You asked, attempting to distract him. He looked at you, his eyes softening when he made eye contact with you.

“Hmm.” He pondered, resting his arm on the door, and scratching his chin in thought. “There’s this diner down the road with really good burgers and shakes. That okay?”

“Sounds amazing.” You replied, reaching to turn the volume dial to turn up the radio as “Return to Sender” began to play.

The drive to the diner was silent, both of you lost in your own thoughts. You were trying your best to seem indifferent, but you truly felt insecure after your interaction with Josephine. After that conversation, you realized you were way too young for Joel and it would never be anything close to what you fantasized about. You felt stupid to even think you’d ever had a chance. Before you knew it, you became teary eyed, but you quickly blinked away the tears. The last thing you needed was to cry in front of Joel.

Joel pulled into the parking lot of the diner, putting the truck in park. You followed behind him inside, keeping your head low. He opened the door for you, noticing your change in mood. He sighed quietly and followed you inside. He followed you to a booth tucked away in the corner. The restaurant was mostly empty aside for a couple elderly couples.

“This place is cute.” You observed, looking around at the various retro decorations. In the corner you noticed a jukebox and bit back a grin.

A waitress approached your table and sat down your menus. You ordered your drinks and food since you already knew what you wanted, and she quickly whisked away with your orders. You cleared your throat and played with your hands in your lap. Joel was looking out the window, his face still laced with irritation.

“So..” you began. “Josephine.”

Joel shifted his eyes to you. He swallowed and rested his arms on the table.

Joel and Josephine’s relationship dated back to high school. They dated on and off for ten years. When they reached their mid twenties, Joel decided he wanted children, but Josephine did not. Albeit, Joel decided it wasn’t a dealbreaker, and decided to stay with her. She was the first woman he truly loved, and he was willing to do whatever it took to please her. Despite her distaste for starting a family, Joel proposed to her on the night of her twenty-eighth birthday. They had a courthouse wedding the next day per her request. Fast forward to their thirties, and Joel noticed that Josephine was acting differently.

Josephine began leaving home for days at a time without an explanation. She stopped being intimate with Joel altogether. He would try, and Josephine would complain that she was tired and not feeling it. One night, Josephine snuck off, and Joel decided to follow her. She drove a few blocks away, and parked at a random house. Joel’s heart dropped when he realized what this meant. Joel parked one house over, and waited several minutes before getting out of the car. He tried the front door, and it was unlocked. The door swung open, and he found Josephine spread out on the couch with Rick between her legs. Nauseous at the sight in front of him, Joel slammed the door behind him and stormed to his car, Josephine yelling his name. Joel ignored her and revved his engine, speeding off.

After he caught her cheating, he soon after learned that Josephine was pregnant, but not with his child. Joel filed for divorce soon after, and it wasn’t a pretty divorce. Joel won the house, but Josephine won most of his money. Years after the divorce as Joel grew older, he realized nothing was tying him down to that deadbeat town. He moved next door to you over four years ago.

Your food came during his story, and you quietly ate as Joel spoke. No wonder he was so agitated at the sight of that woman. You frowned as Joel finished telling you the story.

“I haven’t made an effort to date since then.” He said. “I don’t know why she was at the store. Must not’ve had what they wanted at the store in their area.”

“How long had it been since you’d seen her?” You asked, then took a sip of your chocolate milkshake.

“I’d seen her at our mutual friend’s wedding a couple years ago. She was there with Rick, tonguing each other down the entire time. Then again when my Mom passed away. She had the audacity to show up and kiss on him at the funeral.” Joel said, wiping his fingers with a napkin.

“Oh my god.” You said, reaching across the table to touch his hand. “I’m so sorry. What the fuck is wrong with her?”

Your touch sent shocks up his forearm. He swallowed hard, glancing down at your hands touching.

“I don’t even think god knows.” Joel said as he waved the waitress over to give him the check. You reached for your purse, pulling out your credit card, quickly handing it to the waitress.

“What— no.” Joel said, pulling cash out of his wallet.

“Yes, it’s fine. You drove and you’re doing me a massive favor.” You insisted, Joel putting the cash away in defeat.

“I owe you one.” He said. He cleared his throat looking down at you.

“So, are you seeing anyone?” He spoke, taking a drink of his shake. You laughed and looked down at the table.

“Absolutely not.” You sighed with a smile. “Now that’s a long story.”

“Well, sweetheart. I’ve got time.” Joel responded, tapping his finger against the glass of his milkshake.

“Give me one second.” You said, reaching into your purse and pulling out a five dollar bill.

You stood up from the booth and walked over to the jukebox, inserting the bill into it. You searched through the database of songs, choosing several that stood out to you. You smiled as Sweet Emotion by Aerosmith began playing through the speakers of the diner. When you’d chosen all the songs you could, you found your way back to the booth. Joel gazed up at you with wonder in his eyes. He chuckled softly and shook his head at you. While you were gone the waitress had returned your card, and he slid it across the table to you. You grabbed it and put it away in your purse, then leaned onto your crossed arms on the table.

Joel listened attentively as you gave him the rundown of your last relationship. Similarly to what your dad had told him, you explained that your ex boyfriend cheated on you after dating him for two years. You caught him cheating on you with your best friend at the time. There wasn’t anything crazy about the story, just that you spent many sleepless nights crying yourself to sleep wondering what you could’ve done differently. You wondered if there was something wrong with you; you had given him your all just to be torn down entirely. Among many firsts with him, he was your first love and was the one to take your virginity. Since then, you’d avoided getting close with anyone romantically out of fear of getting hurt again.

“I went on a few dates in Chicago, but none of them really amounted to anything.” You said, your finger tracing the rim of your milkshake glass. “I didn’t want to waste anyone’s time in all honesty. My ex fucked me up pretty bad and I just wasn’t ready to commit to anyone. I’m glad I didn’t.”

“You’re glad you didn’t?” Joel questioned, furrowing his brows.

“Yeah, I don’t think that would’ve been fair to someone, you know? Me not being ready to commit and fighting my own insecurities shouldn’t have been anyone’s problem but my own.” You explained further.

“And how do you feel currently?”

You cleared your throat and averted your gaze around the restaurant as you thought. You bit your bottom lip as “Crazy Little Thing Called Love” by Queen began playing.

“I’m not sure if I’m being honest with you. I’m not entirely opposed to trying a relationship again, but I’m not going to actively go out and seek something. If it happens, it happens.” You said. “And you?”

“I think you explained it perfectly.” Joel said as he pulled his truck keys out of his pocket. “As much as I’d like to keep chatting, the night isn’t getting any younger and neither am I.”

The next day, you were working attentively in your makeshift office while Joel began tearing apart your bathroom. After your dinner the night prior, all you could think about was Joel. Your heart ached for him. You felt hopeful that he had enough trust for you to tell you about his past. You also felt more comfortable with him in general. It was comforting seeing a side to him that wasn’t abrasive and stand-off. You’d both had your tribulations with your romantic pasts, and it made you hopeful that just maybe there was a future for the both of you. You felt silly for even thinking there was a part of you that thought there was a possibility of you two being able to be together.

By noon you were finished with your work for the day, so you decided you could help Joel with the demolition. You stood from your desk, closing your laptop for the day after sending off your completed content. Suddenly, you got an idea. You remembered you brought your vintage camcorder, and this would be the perfect opportunity to use it. You could record the progress of your bathroom remodel and make a short video when it was all finished.

You entered your bedroom to the sound of Joel ripping apart the walls of your shower. You reached into one of the boxes you had yet to unpack and pulled out your camcorder. You turned it on, and walked over to the entryway of the bathroom, recording him. You admired the way his muscles flexed as he pried apart the paneling of the shower wall, exposing the bare wall behind it. He was sporting protective glasses and thick gloves. You watched as he leaned over in his jeans, the material pulling tight against his muscular legs. A smile tugged at your lips as Joel turned around, his breathing heavy.

“What are you doing?” He said winded, letting his hand with the crowbar fall slack to his side.

“Making a progress video.” You replied, zooming in on him with your camera. Joel fought back a smile, shaking his head at you.

You looked adorable standing there in your flowy sweatpants and off the shoulder sweater. Joel could tell you weren’t wearing a bra underneath, your nipples poking through the material. You looked so cuddly and he wanted nothing more than to halt working for the day so he could spend his time cuddled up next to you in your bed kissing every inch of your body.

You lowered the camera from your eyes, and turned it off. You tossed it on your bed, then turned back around to watch Joel for a moment. You leaned against the door frame and crossed your arms. Joel continued peeling the shower paneling off the wall, tossing the remnants into the tub behind him.

“Can I help you?” You asked. Joel turned to face you, his chest rising and falling, his breathing heavy.

“No need.” He said, wiping the beads of sweat off his forehead.

“But I want to. I’m done with work for the day, it’s the least I could do.” You pleaded. Joel stared at you for a moment before finally reaching down to his tool bag, grabbing a spare pair of gloves and goggles.

“Here.” He said, holding out the gear for you to take. You grabbed them from him, carefully putting the goggles over the bridge of your nose, then sliding on the gloves.

“Do you see those tiles behind the paneling? I need you to break those off the wall.” Joel instructed. “Watch me.”

He brushed past you, rearing back his dominant hand with a hammer, striking the tiles with force, watching them crumble down into the shower basin. He stepped back to give you room to take.

“Your turn.” He said, gesturing for you to try.

You stepped forward, taking the hammer from his hand, clearing your throat. You wound your arm backwards, before hitting another tile. You didn’t hit it hard enough, as the tile didn’t budge. Joel approached you from behind, grabbing your hips, then snaking a hand around to lay flat against your belly. Your breath hitched in your throat, the touch planting goosebumps across your skin. Joel leaned down to your ear, his breath hot against your skin.

“Keep your abdominals tight. Twist your torso like this when you swing.” Joel said, using his hand to twist your hips backwards slightly, then twisting them back parallel with his own. Your back brushed against his chest. Your cheeks felt hot, and the air began to feel stuffy in the room.

Joel’s internal monologue was screaming at him to back away from you. Your body heat was radiating onto him, your hips pressed to his. Your sweet vanilla scent enveloped him, his eyes fluttering shut as he made a mental note to cherish this moment with you, for he didn’t know if he’d ever be this close to you again. Snapping out of his trance, Joel backed away from you, giving you room to try again at the tiles. Your cheeks were flushed and your skin was on fire. You knew you were pooling in your panties; you felt pathetic. The most innocent of touches and you completely and utterly in shambles.

You inhaled deeply, and did exactly what Joel told you to. You tightened your core muscles, and wound back to swing at the tiles, shattering two of them on impact. You smiled proudly, turning your head to gauge Joel’s reaction. A smile tugged at his lips, and he brushed his hand across your lower back.

“Amazing, sweetheart.” He said. His touch sent chills up your spine.

For the next hour, the both of you took swings at the tiles, knocking the rest of them off the wall. By the end, you were both sweaty and exhausted. You were starving by then, your stomach grumbling.

“Sounds like someone is hungry.” Joel observed ss he took off his gloves and glasses, tossing them in his tool bag. You mimicked his actions, placing yours adjacent to his.

“I haven’t eaten since this morning.” You admitted, running a hand through your hair to get it off your forehead. Joel noticed one of your hairs sticking up, so he reached up and gently fixed the hair, blending it in with the rest of your locks. You bit your lip and averted your gaze. The effect Joel had on you was insane. You felt like a swooning teenager again, like a ball of putty anytime he touched you.

“How about this: I planned on grilling tonight. Why don’t you come over and I’ll make you dinner.” Joel offered.

“That sounds amazing.” You smiled. “I’ll shower, then I’ll head over.”

Joel wondered if you’d touch yourself in the shower like you did the day before. The possibility aroused him immediately. He longed to shower with you, washing your hair and massaging your beautiful body for you.

“I guess I’ll see you in a little bit, darlin’.” Joel said, grabbing his phone and sliding it in his back pocket. Joel started to walk away, and you reached out to grab his arm to stop him. He turned to you with a look of confusion.

“Do you like scary movies?” You asked, keeping your hand on Joel’s wrist.

“I don’t mind them, why?” Joel questioned.

“I’ll bring a couple movies over and maybe we can have a movie night. I know I’ll have nothing to do tonight and I’m sure you get lonely over there by yourself.” You said. You wanted to be able to spend more time with him without raising any red flags or seeming desperate. You couldn’t help that all you wanted was to be around him.

“Sure, that sounds nice.” Joel said, glancing down at your hand on his skin, then giving the slightest trace of a smile on his lips. You smiled up at him, releasing his arm from your grip.

“See you there.”

#joel miller #din djarin #pedro pascal #pedro pascal smut #pedro x reader #tlou fanfiction #joel tlou #the mandalorian #dbf!joel #joel miller smut

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dianadeadwing · 8 months

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Inktober Day 5- Map

TLDR - Here’s a map of the shops on Bob’s Burgers Ocean Avenue as based on the Bob’s Burgers Movie and parts of season 13. Extensive Notes to follow.

This is the map I alluded to earlier in the week of the storefronts with visible names in the movie. The dimensions of the buildings are based on the aerial shot from the end of “The Plight Before Christmas”.

There are inconsistencies between the movie and the series (as well as within the movie itself) as far as the color and location of some of these buildings. I’ve defaulted to colors used in the series but names from the movie. Several of these shops have had different names earlier in the series so I’m working from the movie onward for consistency’s sake.

1. Hotel- Unsure if this hotel has a name.

2. Reflections

3. Spoke of the Devil (Bike Shop) - Shop is named “Spoke of the Devil” the words “bike shop” can be seen as part of a neon sign in the window.

4. First Oceanside Savings Bank

5. Yours Truly, Stationary

6. Jimmy Pesto’s Pizzeria

7. The Petalphile

8. Unknown store front - This building is usually depicted as blue with a large front window indicating that it’s some sort of storefront but I’ve been unable to find a name so far.

9. From Here To Maternity (Pregnancy Clothes) - The movie depicts this building as being brown but the series almost always shows it as green so I’ve made it green on the map.

10. Fresh Off The Presses (Cleaners) - Shop is named “Fresh Off The Presses” with “cleaners” in a neon sign in the window.

11. Unknown Store Front - This shop has a visible name in several shots from the movie but I can’t make it out.

* Some shots from the movie show an additional pink building at the end and others don’t. It does not have a awning or large front window and could therefore possibly residential or a service (such as a lawyer). This building does not appear in the aerial shot so I did not include it.

12. Ocean Market

13. Needles to Say - This shop as well as the following three also appear in season thirteen and are particularly visible in “What a (April) Fool Believes”.

14. Walk All Over Me (Flooring Showcase)

15. You Were Framed (Picture Framing)

16. For Pete’s Cake

17. It’s Your Funeral (Home and Crematorium)

18. Bob’s Burgers

19. Store Next Door - The often vacant orange store front next to Bob’s.

20. Red building- This building is very visible in several shots but isn’t shown to have a name. It has three front doors at the top of some stairs. Because of its layout it seems most likely to be residential. (As we know this neighborhood has mixed zoning, such as Mr. Huggins’ apartment building)

21. Blue Building - The positions of this building and the beige building are switched in the movie. In the series it’s fairly consistently blue so that’s what I’ve included. It seems similar in structure to the red building and could also be residential, but we don’t get many good shots of this part of the street so it’s hard to tell.

22. Beige Building - This part of the street is most often seen from the alley. It appears to have a loading dock. This where Alice parks her food truck in “As I Walk Through the Alley of the Shadow of Ramps” in season 8.

23. Liquor - This building has been depicted in different colors but has a prominent sign stating “Liquor”. I’ve seen it called “Oh La Liquor” but I’d like to see this in later season materials.

This is just what I’ve gathered as of ep 14.1. Please feel free to let me know if you have any additional information. (Or an official map) I’m absurdly invested in this.

There is also an aerial shot from the movie that shows Wagstaff in relation to Ocean Avenue (it’s also mentioned to be four blocks away) and I just wish I could take screen shots so I could study it better. I’ll make a map of this whole dang town.

#bobs burgers #inktober #inktober2023 #bob's burgers #the bobs burgers movie #map #ocean avenue #procreate #my art tag #does this count as art #digital art #fanart #artists on tumblr #reference

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stardustbarbarians · 7 days

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Feet First, Don't Fall

A Daniel Wagner / Samuel Kiszka fic

Summary: Before a set, Danny and Sam blow off some steam.

Tags: fluff, younger Sam and Danny, shenanigans

Trigger Warnings: drug use (weed)

Words: 9.3 k

Author's Note: Heyyyyyyyyyyyy I'm back. So, this one has been in the works for about half a year and I'm super proud of it. If y'all remember back in like 2022, Shadow said that he was told to keep an extra close eye on Danny and Sam because they have a tendency of trying to run away, this fic was inspired by that. Another note: Sam and Danny are, like, 19ish in this. As usual, this fic is dedicated to @ofthecaravel because she was my biggest cheerleader for this fic <3. Title taken from Halsey's Roman Holiday. As always, please enjoy! <3

+++

Sam was fucking tired. Not physically, of course; the three espresso shots flowing through his veins made sure of that. But, this was the fifteenth show they had played in the past month. Mentally and emotionally, he was trucking along on E, and even the fumes he was running on were starting to get stale. There were only so many times he could play Highway Tune before he wanted to bite through the strings of his bass.

Currently, the four of them were lazing about in the makeshift green room of the festival they were about to play. It was a white tent with clear plastic cut-outs to mock the sanctity of a window. The tarp did not breathe at all and there was only so much that the small opening at the front could do. Sam could feel the hair at the back of his neck sticking to him, making him want to scrape all of his skin off his bones and throw it into the wash. He was trying his best to stay his heat stroke with a crude fan he folded out of a printed out drink menu, laying bonelessly across three folding chairs.

He felt rather than saw when Daniel came up to him, kneeling down next to him. Sam wasn’t exactly sure why, but he was always finely tuned to be aware of Danny whenever they were in proximity of one another. It was like his own personal, internal Danny-Radar.

“Hey,” Danny leaned over to Sam, his brushed out curls tickling the skin of Sam’s arm.

Sam wasn’t at all startled by the intrusion on his dramatized suffering. The bassist just lazily opened his eyes to find that Danny was leaning over him, a glimmer of mischief flickering in those rich amber eyes. Sammy glanced down momentarily to see there was a smirk playing across Danny’s lips. Sam knew that look, it meant he was scheming.

“What are you planning, Wagner?” He hadn’t meant for his voice to sound so starstruck. Though, if he was being honest, he wasn’t surprised by his tone much.

Danny didn’t respond. Verbally, anyway. All Daniel had to do was look over at the opening of the tent and back at Sam. That smirk on his lips grew just a tad bigger, making something shift in Sam’s stomach.

Immediately, Sam felt his lips break out into a smile once he put it together. It was as if Daniel had read Sam’s mind; it was exactly what Sam needed. They had hours before their set, might as well blow off some steam.

“How are we gonna get past security? They’re on high alert after last time,” Sam whispered, trying his best to make it seem like they weren’t scheming.

“Last time” had consisted of the two of them slipping away under the not-so watchful eye of security and setting off a shit-ton of fireworks in the parking lot of the hotel they were staying at. There wasn’t any damage done, however the rest of the guests weren’t appreciative of their free tickets to a fireworks show at three in the morning.

“You doubt me, Francis?” Daniel had a playful look in his eye that made his smirk grow into a full smile. That strange feeling was back in Sam’s gut.

“These are the professionals, Robert. Lou was practically child’s play compared to these guys.” Sam motioned over to the very professional security guard that was standing sentry at the door. Even if he wasn’t wearing that tight shirt with “security” printed across his chest, you’d be able to tell what this guy’s profession was. He even wore those ridiculous wrap around sunglasses.

“Just follow my lead.” And before Sam could question him, Daniel was off.

With a sigh of resignation, Sam peeled himself off the chairs he rested on to follow after Danny. He disparagingly departed with the fan he folded. Something told Sam he would need both hands for whatever their future held.

When it seemed that Danny thought he was going too slow, he grabbed Sam’s wrist that was hanging at his side and started dragging him along faster. And, yeah, maybe he was dragging his feet a little, but he really didn’t want to go out in the ninety degree heat again.

Daniel ducked out of the tent opening, Sam mimicking him when the flap nearly smacked him in the face. The evening sun was still blinding as Sam made the mistake of looking directly at it, blinking dumbly as he tried to clear the dark spot burned into his vision. He relied solely on Daniel’s guidance to weave through the crowds of other musicians and various press people.

They only made it a few steps before they were caught. And just when Sam thought Danny’s “just go for it” approach was going to work.

“Hey! Where do you two think you’re going?” The voice was loud, projecting over all the other din around them. It was gruff, too. Another point towards Sam’s argument that this guy was really just a walking cliche. If he turned around and this man had either a sucker or a toothpick hanging out of his mouth-

“Sam isn’t feeling good. I was taking him to the medic’s tent,” Daniel smoothly lied, tugging his friend in close to his side. Normally, the extra body heat would make Sam want to hiss and pull away, but being pressed into Danny’s side didn’t bother him at all, it seemed.

Picking up on the clue Daniel dropped, Sam schooled his features to how he imagined he looked when he was sick. He pulled his brows together, pinching his eyes slightly and pursing his lips. His final touch was when he brought his hand up to his forehead. He hoped he looked pathetic enough to garner sympathy but not so bad as to make it seem like he couldn’t perform later on. When he finally looked up at the guard, there was a fucking toothpick hanging from his lips. Sam had to suppress the urge to scoff out a laugh, biting his cheek hard enough to sting.

Forcing himself to look away from the toothpick, Sam looked over the man’s body language. He noticed a very small but noticeable shift in the guard’s gait as Sam looked at him through his lashes. Sam had known how effective his puppy-eyes were… had used them more than once to manipulate his way into getting what he wanted. Or in a few rare instances, getting out of trouble. So, what good were they if he didn’t break them out for this instance.

Sam wasn’t sure if it was his stellar acting or the pleading eyes that made the guy break, but Sam was just glad it worked at all.

“Alright, go ahead. But make sure you’re back in time for your set,” the guard dismissed. Sam could hear Danny let out a sigh of relief next to him. Guess he really was just winging it.

“Will do,” the drummer quickly responded, using the hold he still had on Sam’s wrist to swiftly tug Sam away from the guard before he changed his mind or saw through their ruse. They disappeared into the crowd, Daniel making sure to be swept up in the hustle and bustle of the festival happenings.

After he was sure they were out of sight, Sam began giggling, the thrill of getting away with something they shouldn't be bubbling beneath his skin. Sam couldn’t help but jump at the excitement mounting in his veins, a bright and brilliant smile making his cheeks hurt with the force of it. Daniel was matching his level of elation, albeit a little more subdued.

“Now that you’ve gotten us out here, what’s our next move, boss?”

“Great question, Sam. Truly, one that deserves a good pondering in order to answer-”

“You’re making this up as you go, aren’t you?” Sam cut off with a laugh, feeling his smile growing so wide that he flashed his bottom teeth.

Daniel looked over his shoulder at his best friend, a dazzling smile of his own spread across his lips. Time seemed to slow. And Sam, if he weren’t being pulled along by Daniel, would’ve stopped dead in his tracks. The bassist felt as if his heart was about to burst out of his chest as he took in the sight of that vibrant smile that made the skin around Danny’s eyes crinkle and his nose scrunch. Though it was brief, Sam could see his eyes twinkle with the light of the sun that beat down on them all, yet he seemed to somehow tame within his beautiful irises. Perhaps it was because the sun found a kinship in Daniel that it was willing to spend a moment captured within his soul. Sam’s breath caught in his throat, frozen alongside the rest of time. This always seemed to happen, that pause between seconds, when Daniel flashed that smile at Sam. And every time, Sammy wasn’t entirely certain he would survive.

“Yep! But it’s gotten us this far, hasn’t it?”

That was what finally broke Sam out of that trance. That, and Daniel directed his head away from Sam so that he could see where he was walking. And while Sam adored Daniel’s smile, he was glad he wasn’t directing it at Sam anymore. It always did strange things to his heart that Sam wasn’t equipped with the ability of parsing out the meaning of. Although, it was equally as likely that it was those 3 espresso shots he’d drunk too.

“By the skin of our teeth,” Sam shot back, attempting an annoyed tone. He was betrayed by his own voice, the words coming off as lighthearted.

“Oh, c’mon, Sammy,” Daniel had stopped short, leaning into Sam’s ear as he spoke, so fucking close to Sam’s neck and cheek that he had to fight off a shiver shooting down his spine, “since when are you afraid of getting into a little trouble?”

Danny pulled away to give Sam a challenging smirk, something dark yet playful gleaming in Danny’s eye. He had used a deep tone, keeping his volume low when he murmured into Sammy’s ear. Sam’s face felt like it was scorching, blaming the burning sun that had been overly warm all day long.

“You’re losing your nerve, Kiszka.”

Sam sputtered at Daniel’s challenge, taking major offense at the remark. Lost his nerve…

“Excuse you, sir, who out of the two of us has been booked?” That only made Danny’s mischievous smile grow, much to Sam’s chagrin.

“Yeah, and that scared the hell out of you. The Sam I know would already have us busted out of this joint,” Daniel goaded, hardly able to keep his grin out of his tone. And, listen, Sam knew he was being played. He knew that Danny was just saying shit to rile him up. But…

“That so, Wagner?”

Sam ripped his wrist out of Danny’s hand, completely forgetting they were still connected until that moment. He felt strangely cold at the loss of contact, frankly baffled that that was even possible considering the baking sun.

He forced those thoughts away from his mind, rapidly scanning his surroundings for a way to escape the hustle and bustle of the festival. And that was when his eyes landed on the golf cart stationed next to a tent filled with snacks and water. Sam felt a grin of his own spread across his lips, an idea popping in his head like a lightbulb going off.

“Follow my lead,” Sam quoted, a mocking of Daniel from earlier, leaning into Danny’s personal space to whisper the words under his breath. And Sam swore to himself that he saw Danny shudder, but… that made no sense. They were both sweating their asses off in this heat wave, why would Danny be cold?

He filed that away for later and nudged Danny’s shoulder with his own, walking past him towards the snack tent. He briefly glanced over his shoulder towards Daniel to quickly bounce his eyebrows at Danny with a playful smile pulling at his lips. That snapped Danny out of whatever spell he was under as he shook his head and hurried after Sam.

As Sam walked into the food tent, he realized he should have a plan. But, hell, Danny didn’t have a plan and he was able to get both of them past security. So, Sam just decided to wing it and pretend like he had a plan. To look cool. Not because he was trying to impress Danny. That was ridiculous and childish. No, he was a rockstar and rockstars always look cool so he should act like one.

And so Sam decided to walk up to the man who looked like the supervisor and the one who would have the keys to the golf cart and… and flirt with him, he guessed. He really had no fucking clue what he was doing, he just hoped he looked like he did.

“Man, I heard the snack selection here was good, but they never said you would be on the menu.” Sam flashed his most devastatingly charming smile he could, raking his eyes up and down the, frankly, average looking white man looking for the keys to the golf cart under the guise of checking him out.

The man, halting mid bite of an apple to look over at Sam, only for his eyes to go wide in panic as he hurriedly finished his bite. Juice from the fruit was dripping down his chin, which Sam caught a glimpse of before the guy turned around and wiped it with his sleeve. Sam felt his face curl up in distaste, catching Danny’s eye from where he was stationed at the entrance of the tent, confusion pinching his face.

What are you doing?! Danny mouthed, his hands raising in question as he gestured to the supervisor.

Go stand by the cart! Sam mouthed back, flapping his hand quickly and emphatically at the aforementioned golf cart. He quickly had to plaster on that charming smile again as the guy turned to face Sam, the juice from the apple gone and the fruit also missing.

“Y-You’re Sam Kiszka,” the guy stuttered out, his eyes still wide as he looked at Sam. So he’s a fan… Sam could definitely work with that.

“Sure am, sugar. And who do I have the pleasure of talking to right now?” Sam purred, internally cringing at the tone he employed. But, he had a job to do and he wanted to impress Da- himself. He wanted to impress himself. Nobody else.

“Uhhh…” the man seemed to freeze as Sam took a step closer to him, running a hand down the man’s shoulder to his chest, pinching the lanyard around his neck that held a set of keys on them. The man’s eyes glanced down at Sam’s hand, his face changing color.

As he was distracted, Sam chanced a glance over at Daniel, checking to see if he was where Sam had told him to be. And there he was, stationed by the golf cart with his arms crossed over his chest and a scowl on his face- wait. Why was he scowling? There was no reason for him to be so upset-

“Luke. My name’s Luke,” the guy, Luke, finally answered, a nervous laugh following the words. Sam had to suppress the urge to make a face as Luke’s breath wafted over his face. It didn’t smell bad or anything, it just unsettled Sam that he was so close.

“Ooooh, like Luke Skywalker? That’s such a cool name, I’ve always loved the name Luke and I always thought it was super sexy,” Sam flirted, really laying on his accent thick. He was certain he was starting to sound like one of those Valley Girls as he pitched his voice up just a bit, complete with twirling his hair with the hand not still touching Luke’s lanyard. He even went so far as to giggle after he spoke, knowing he was really putting it on.

“Oh, really? Because… that’s who I’m named after!”

Liar

“Oh my god!” Sam giggled again, leaning in closer to Luke, “you’re soooo funny!!”

“Yeah,” Luke breathed out, his confidence swelling due to Sam fluffing up his ego, “I’ve been told that a time or two.”

“I bet all the ladies fall over themselves just to get a piece of you.” Sam was lying through his teeth at this point. Luke was about the most mediocre white guy you could picture. It was as if someone had gone into the sims and attempted to make the most generic white adult male possible and they ended up with Luke.

“W-Well… I wouldn’t say that…” Luke scratched the back of his neck nervously, sending a shy smile Sam’s way. And while Sam had no attraction to this man whatsoever, he had to admit, that smile was kinda cute. In like an endearing way.

“Well, they’re just missing out.” Sam leaned in just a bit closer, his nose nearly brushing Lukes. His heart was pounding in his chest, the beat sounding like thunder in his ears. He knew what he had to do to get those keys; Luke wasn’t so easily distracted that he was about to be ok with Sam stealing from him without a very good distraction.

And that was when he screwed his courage to the sticking place and closed the distance between them. Luke made a surprised noise as their lips connected, Sam having to suppress one of his own. He’d never kissed someone with facial hair before and it was a surprising sensation. It only lasted for a few seconds; seven, to be exact. Just long enough for Sam to slide his hands to the back of Luke’s neck, unhook his lanyard, and toss the keys in Daniel’s direction. It was… a strange kiss. Sam decided he didn’t like it. Not because it was a man he was kissing, but because he kept trying to push his tongue into Sam’s mouth and Sam really wasn’t having it.

Sam pulled away, pushing down the powerful urge to shove the guy for trying to take it too far. And, well, Sam guessed he kinda had himself to blame for that one since he was the one who initiated all of this and was heavily flirting. And then he heard the golf cart turning on, which he knew Luke didn’t hear judging off the dazed look he was shooting Sam.

“What was that?” Luke breathed, his tone incredulous as he stumbled a step towards Sam. Sammy ripped his gaze away from the stunned man, seeing Daniel aggressively waving his hands at his best friend to get his ass over there.

“A distraction,” Sam answered, sending a wink towards Luke as he ripped himself away from his touch and bolted towards Danny.

He laughed rancorously as he jumped into the passenger seat and told Danny to step on it, gravel crunching as the wheels spun on the ground before jolting forward. Sam, forever a little shit, turned in his seat and waved at Luke with a smile on his face. Sam couldn’t help but laugh at the stunned and distressed look on the man’s face as he watched two rockstars set to perform in two hours speed off with his golf cart.

“That was some stunt you pulled, Sam,” Danny complimented, though there was this strange undertone to it that Sam couldn’t quite place. But it was… well, Sam didn’t want to say “dark”, but that was the only thing coming to his mind.

However, he was too high off the adrenaline of successfully pulling off a stunt that he improvised on the fly to care. He hollered and whooped as they sped off towards the exit, throwing his hands in the air.

“How’s that for nerve, Danny boy!” Sam grinned, knowing he went above and beyond Danny’s little taunt.

“Gotta admit, I didn’t think you had it in you, Sam. Color me impressed,” Daniel admitted, a smile on his face that matched his words. And that totally did not make Sam’s heart do a flip inside his chest. Because he was not trying to impress Danny. Sam wants to make that blatantly clear. He’s not.

“Remember this the next time you doubt me,” Sam chirped, settling his hands behind his head in an act of cockiness.

Daniel just laughed at Sam’s theatrics, his head tipping back with the force of it. Sam’s smile faltered at the way his heart tumbled inside his chest at the noise, how it felt as though the organ was jumping for joy at the sound. See, that was a major motivator for Sam, getting Daniel to laugh like that. Despite the fact that it made Sam’s heart just about explode inside his chest, he’d do just about anything to get Danny to laugh as boisterously as he just did.

“Yeah, yeah, lap it up, Sam,” Daniel dismissed, that laugh still intertwined with his words and leaving a bright smile on his lips. Sam watched raptly as Daniel’s hands deftly navigated the wheel of the cart, his lithe fingers he knew were littered with calluses sliding and wrapping around the textured black plastic. He had to forcibly remove his gaze away from Danny’s hands in fear that he would be caught staring, feeling his cheeks heat at the realization that that was absolutely what he was doing.

“So-” Sam cleared his throat, the tone coming out high-pitched, “So, what now?”

Daniel quickly glanced over at Sam, a whisper of the devious grin slipping back onto his features. Maybe Sam ought to lay off the caffeine… that had to be why his heart kept skipping a beat inside his chest.

“I heard there’s a spot not far from here that has a killer view of the sunset… and, who knows? Maybe you can use your star-power to get a few of these people around here to give us some free weed.” Once again, the words Danny spoke were light-hearted as usual, but that dark undertone from earlier was back beneath them.

Once again, Sam decided not to look too deep into it in favor of preening at the implication that Sam had “star-powers”. “Just point me at the right person and I’ll charm the pants off them.”

Sam had laughed at that.

Daniel didn’t.

+++

“I’m still baffled at how you were able to rob that man blind of his entire stash of pre-rolls,” Daniel coughed, handing the joint off to Sam, bringing his free hand up to bring his shirt over his mouth to catch all of his hacking. He kinda wished Sam had used his flirting powers to con some water from someone; his throat was burning.

“Never underestimate the power of batting your eyelashes, Daniel,” Sam flippantly responded, patting Danny on his back before taking the joint from him.

Daniel thought back to what Sam meant by “batting his eyelashes”, the exact look Sam gave that guy burned into the back of his eyelids. He wasn’t exactly positive why that doe-eyed, pleading look from Sammy as he did, in fact, bat his lashes as he begged silently for the guy to hand over his pre-rolls stuck with him. There was just… just something about the way he looked up through his lashes, making his already large eyes even bigger as he pouted his lip just barely and knit his brow. It had awoken something deep inside Daniel that now refused to be quieted or satiated despite Danny’s best efforts to silence it. It manifested in a whisper in the back of his mind that seemed to simply point out the obvious. Like, currently, that voice was murmuring in his ear how beautiful Sam’s eyes looked in the burning light of the setting sun, how the pinks and reds of the clouds reflected onto his skin and made it seem as if he were blushing. Or, how his glittering smile was the crowning jewel of the moment, outshining even the grace of Mother Nature in that moment. And, frankly, Danny was at a point where he wasn’t sure if it was the weed that was making him dizzy anymore.

Daniel returned Sam’s smile, weak and brief. He felt his heart flutter within his ribs, absently placing his hand atop his chest where it resided. He skirted his gaze away from Sam, opting to burn his eyes with the sun rather than with Sam; it was less painful. However, as his mind drifted back to a half an hour ago, Daniel realized his heart was going to lurch inside his chest regardless.

“Hey, man, nice flag,” Sam complimented, his voice low and sultry. Daniel, who was sitting in the driver’s seat of the cart, felt his hand involuntarily clench around the wheel at the tone Sam employed. His mouth went dry, his tongue feeling too big for his mouth.

The guy with the aforementioned flag turned on his heel, his eyes lighting up as he took in the visage of Sam. The flag that he had tied around his shoulders like a superhero cape was of the American flag with one minor tweak: a gigantic pot leaf slapped right in the middle of the red and white stripes. Sam, who was currently setting his features to look more sensual, had taken to draping himself against the bar that supported the roof of the golf cart. Daniel could only see the back of him, but the way Sam leaned his forearm onto the metal beam and let the rest of his body go liquid gave him away.

This was certainly a new development, Sam using his wiles to get what he wanted. Well, Danny shouldn’t say “new”. Sam had always gotten what he wanted through whatever means necessary. But, using his good looks and sex appeal to get what he wants? That was brand new. Like, he just started that today brand new. And, frankly, Daniel wasn’t all too thrilled to be there to witness this new development first-hand.

“Wanna c’mere and see it up close and personal?” Flag Guy asked, his eyes raking over Sam and all his long, lean lines appreciatively. There was no misinterpreting his tone, nor the smirk that gave him a shark-ish look. It made Daniel’s skin crawl, his lip curling up in disgust on its own accord.

Sam, going along with the plan of getting free shit, giggled. And, god help him, started using those long, beautiful fingers that were adept at playing bass and keys, to play with a lock of his silky hair. Daniel wanted to slam his head into the steering wheel hard enough to crack his skull. He couldn’t believe Sam was essentially whoring himself out all in the name of getting free drugs.

“You come over here, cowboy,” Sam ordered playfully, a bubbly laugh intertwined with his command. He lifted his free hand up to beckon the stranger over with a sly curl of his finger, a smile to match probably pulling up the corner of those pretty lips- Hold on. When did Daniel start calling Sam’s lips pretty?

The stranger obliged without qualm, practically kicking up a dust trail behind him with how fast he was high-tailing it. Danny watched him adjust the stars and stripes cowboy hat on his dirty-blonde mess of curls before he “turned on the charm” and leaned into the golf cart with a hand resting on the roof. That shark-like grin was back on his lips, and so was Danny’s sneer.

“Well, you’ve got me here now, pretty darlin’, what did you want with me?” the stranger drawled, a southern accent that Daniel had not heard the man utilize until now dripping off his words. Lust was gleaming in his dark eyes as he towered over Sam, hiding absolutely nothing of what he was thinking. It made Danny want to rear back and punch the guy’s teeth in so hard that he was shitting them for weeks.

To Daniel’s absolute horror, he watched Sam’s hand reach up to curl its fingers around the knot in the flag around the man’s shoulders. When it was in place, Sam yanked him down so that his face was just a few inches away from Sam’s. And that was when Daniel was able to see Sam’s face for the first time since he started this whole disturbing charade. His lips were pulled back in a sultry smirk, one so searing they were certain to leave a mark. His eyes were hooded, the lids only open at half mast as they gazed lustfully at the stranger’s lips. It simultaneously made Daniel’s blood simmer with a heat he didn’t quite understand and make his stomach drop to the ground as his skin went cold. It was worsened by the fact that, when he looked over at the stranger, he was giving that look right back to Sam.

“This,” Sam answered, his voice low and husky, before he used his hold on the man’s flag-cape thing to tug him forwards enough to close the distance between them.

If Daniel had a nickel for every time he watched Sam kiss a man in front of him and it caused a confusing amount of rage to flood his system… Well, he’d only have two nickels. But it was infuriating that it happened twice… within the hour. And when the stranger’s free hand went to tangle into Sam’s hair, Daniel had to force himself to look away. The rage that had flooded his system turned white-hot, his blood boiling beneath his skin. He felt his jaw clenching so hard it made his teeth gnash and squeak as he ground them, his grip on the steering wheel so hard that he felt his nails nearly break the skin of his palm.

“Holy shit,” the stranger breathed under his breath, signaling to Danny that they had finally broken away from one another. Danny still couldn’t look at them. Instead, he elected to look dead-set out the windshield.

Sam giggled again, making Danny’s jaw clench even tighter.

“Yeah?” Sam asked, his tone light and airy.

“I mean…” the stranger let out a whistle that made Daniel want to slam his head into the side of the cart and run him over. How fucking dare this guy.

Sam - really setting out to test Daniel’s patience, it seemed - giggled once more. “Can I ask a favor of you?”

“After that? Anything.” He had dropped the fake southern drawl.

“You wouldn’t be willing to give me any of your weed, would you?”

Sam’s tone made Daniel turn his head towards him. And he regretted it immediately. Sam had taken to looking up at the guy through his lashes, a pleading flavor to the knit in his brow. Once again, it made something stir deep within Daniel’s gut that he didn’t quite understand; it was equal parts lust and jealousy.

Jealousy??

And when Sam had started to bat them, Daniel couldn’t stop the low growl that slipped out of his lips.

That was when the stranger turned to look at Daniel for the first time, seemingly just now realizing that Danny even existed. And, well, to be fair to the guy, if Sam was coming on that strong to Danny, he’d block out the rest of the world, too.

…..He would??

“Is… Is he ok?” the stranger asked, flicking his eyes over at Danny to indicate to Sam who he was talking about.

Sam looked over at Danny for the first time since Sam had begun this flirtation and… Danny couldn’t help the breath that got caught in his throat as he trained those puppy eyes onto Daniel. Truly, they were every person’s kryptonite.

When Sam turned his head back to face the stranger, his fingers still wrapped around that stupid flag, Daniel felt as if he could breathe again.

“My driver? He’s fine,” Sam waved away, quickly putting that pleading mask back onto his face. He took his bottom lip between his two teeth, further batting his eyes at the stranger. “Now, back to what I asked?”

With a deep chuckle that made Daniel’s rage grow, the stranger reached into his back pocket and pulled out three cardboard boxes about the size of Danny’s finger. His eyes never left Sam’s as he handed them over, but jerked them away when Sam went to grab them.

“It’s gonna cost ya,” he muttered, his forehead practically touching Sam’s. Daniel was not plotting the best way to locate this guy after their set and break all of his bones for taking advantage of Sam like that. He really wasn’t. He also wasn’t thinking of how to convince the twins to distract Sam for him while also giving him an alibi while he disposed of the body.

But, before Danny could even open his mouth to tell him that that comment would cost this scuzzy man his life, Sam once again planted those soft and full lips onto the undeserving man’s lips. Make that three nickels.

At least this one didn’t last as long as the last one. Within a second or two, Sam was disengaging with the man’s lips, to Danny’s relief. Though, it only slightly quieted the fiery rage boiling his blood.

“Now, that’s something I can get used to,” the stranger purred, making Danny’s restraint snap.

He hadn’t even realized that he had enacted a plan to save Sam as he reached across the vacant seat that his best friend once occupied, grabbed him by the back of the shirt, and yanked him back down into the golf cart. Sam squeaked in both surprise and protest as he was forcefully sat down onto the plush vinyl seat.

“No, you fucking won’t,” Daniel growled, all but baring his teeth as his grip tighten around the red patterned shirt Sam wore. It was a nice shirt on Sam, the color red always lovely on him. And the way he wore it, nearly completely unbuttoned and loosely draped around his frame, complimented him. Daniel had to will himself not to get distracted by the expanse of tan skin across Sam’s collar bones that reflected the golden hour sunlight.

Sam, as he glanced over at Daniel, seemed both bewildered and… and turned on? Was that lust that Daniel saw simmering in Sam’s eyes? But, when Danny blinked, it was gone. So… maybe he didn’t see it.

“Daniel?” Sam asked, gentle and soft. It made Daniel’s skin tingle.

“We’ve got what we need, let’s go,” Danny whispered to Sam, trying his absolute best to keep his… his jealousy (might as well admit it at this point) out of his voice.

When he knew Sam was safe inside the cart, Daniel floored the accelerator and sped away from that creep as far as he could. He could hear the man’s protests as they took off, but they were soon drowned out by Sam’s giggling.

“Daniel?”

Danny was ripped out of his thoughts, his eyelids batting rapidly to help clear his head of the memory. Looking over to see Sam’s soft, teasing smile certainly helped jumpstart his heart; the poor organ just about lurched up into his throat at the sight. And, of course, the wind decided that just that moment was the perfect time to pick up. Sam’s satin locks billowed around him in a halo, some of it getting caught in his lips. And because of that, Sam giggled in between sputters to rid his mouth of the foreign substance. He finally reached up his free hand and pulled the hair from its temporary prison, full on laughing at the ridiculousness of it; the weed probably aiding Sam’s giggly mood.

Daniel was certain he was going to have a heart attack at this rate. It could not be good for the poor thing to be beating so hard and fast for so long.

“Hello?”

Danny’s attention finally snapped to Sam rather than on him, the drummer forcing himself to pay attention and not get distracted by Sam’s artistry.

…Come to think of it, he had to do that a lot, actually. Like, this was far from a new development. Damn, how did it take him this long to realize-

“What, Sammy?”

“I asked you what you were thinking about!” The bassist ashed the joint, his feet kicking out under him. Danny, after racing away from the weed creep and flying past the entrance security before they could be stopped, found this gorgeous clearing that overlooked the waves of the local lake that burned with the colors of the vibrant sunset. Sam was the one to climb onto the roof of the golf cart first, calling Danny a pussy in no unclear terms for having reservations about doing that himself. As always, Sam was easily able to goad Danny into doing whatever he wanted. At this point, Daniel was certain he was unable to say no to Sam.

Jesus, he had it bad.

Daniel, panicking just a bit at the question Sam posed, hastily searched his surroundings for an answer that wasn’t the truth. Because telling Sammy that he was stewing in jealousy over watching his best friend kiss someone else was pretty fucking damning.

“Swimming,” Danny blurted out, his face heating up in embarrassment under the expectant look Sam was giving him. He darted his eyes between the bassist and the waves lapping at the shoreline about ten feet below them. As soon as the word left his tongue, Daniel had wanted to dive right into the water and swim away. It was so obviously a lie that even he knew it.

“Hmm,” was all Sam said in response, his eyes finally leaving Danny. Finally, the drummer felt like he could breathe again. He knew Sam didn’t believe him, but he was letting Danny get away with the lie.

It fell silent between them, the void of voices only awkward on one side of the conversation. Wordlessly, Sam passed the joint back to Danny. Their fingers brushed and Daniel felt utterly ridiculous for how his breath caught in his throat at the touch, his cheeks burning once more. He quickly busied himself with bringing the filter to his lips, the skin of his fingers buzzing with warmth and fervor. He should’ve been concerned that that humming spread to his lips as he touched them, but he was trying his absolute best just to shove it from his mind; just like how Sam had kissed two people today. And we’re back at square one.

Daniel held the smoke in his lungs for longer than what was probably healthy, exhaling through his nose in order to get that extra bump. At this point, anything was worth getting that nervous and jealous seething from his blood. Danny figured that if he got high enough, that thrumming would be replaced by the hum of the weed. And maybe, just maybe, he’d be able to keep Sam from his thoughts for a moment. He knew it was a fool’s errand and that getting as high as he was would bite him in the ass later. Because, let’s face it. There was no forgetting Sam Kiszka.

“Sam?” Daniel was sure he had drawn his name out, the syllable being pulled from his dry tongue like taffy. Danny had to suppress his giggle at that analogy, forcing himself to stay focused.

“Yes, Daniel Dearest?” How was he able to always be so smooth and calm??

“What… What’s it like, y’know… kissing a guy?” The drummer’s heart was pounding so hard in his chest he felt the vibration of it throughout his entire body. He was just proud of himself for keeping his voice steady.

Out of the corner of his eye, Daniel saw Sam turn his head to look at his best friend. He wasn’t brave enough to return the look. Instead, Danny brought the joint back up to his lips and pointedly kept his eyes trained on the fading pinks of the sun on the horizon.

With a soft giggle that did nothing to slow Danny’s thundering heart, Sam adjusted his posture so that he was leaning back on his hands, his head lolling to the side as he rested it on his shoulder.

“It’s not all that different from kissing a girl, really,” Sammy answered, that easy-going attitude slipping into his tone. Truly, Daniel envied Sam’s ability of nonchalance. What he would give to have even a fraction of that right now.

“No?” Danny prompted, stealing a glance towards the bassist for long enough to notice the wind had taken to playing with his hair once more.

“Nah, not really. I mean, there’s stubble and facial hair that you’ve gotta live with, but it’s not uncomfortable. And, I mean, that last guy was in some desperate need of chapstick.” Sammy had swiveled his head to fully look at Danny again, a blindingly charming flash of his teeth as he nudged Danny with his shoulder. That was another thing driving Daniel absolutely mad: the two of them were close enough to be constantly brushing one another, but left just enough space to have deniability.

Danny knew Sam was going for comedy, but all he managed to do was reignite that resentment inside Danny.

“Yeah, I bet.” Daniel really did not mean for his voice to come out so flat and toneless, but he supposed it was better than the alternative.

Once again, it fell quiet. This time, Daniel felt that awkwardness radiating off both of them. Without so much as a glance, the drummer passed the dwindling joint back to his bandmate with a set in his jaw. And when their fingers touched again, Danny held his breath until the feeling passed and willed himself to ignore it.

Despite the calming lull of birdsong, crashing of waves, and the warm fingers of the summertime breeze tracing along their exposed skin and nuzzling their hair, the drummer was far from soothed. His plan of getting completely stoned to feel numb was failing. As he felt his irritation rise to a level that was far from acceptable, Daniel forced himself to take some deep breaths and focus on all those placating things he listed earlier. He allowed his jealousy to leak out of his every breath to be carried away by the wind, to drift away into the fading sunlight and disappear along with the sun as it dipped its sleepy head below the horizon.

Sam had puffed out a breath of his own, the intoxicating smoke billowing from his plush lips before he tossed what was left of their glowing roach of a joint into the trash bin off to the side of the clearing. His surprised laugh at making the bin rang out against the sky, similar to the calls of the gulls screeching above their heads; though, Sammy’s was more melodic and joyous.

“Why do you ask?” Sam suddenly asked.

“What?” Danny turned to face his best friend, confusion swirling with the smoke in his head.

It must’ve shown on his face because Sammy broke out into another fit of giggles after looking at Danny. What he didn’t know was that Sam had to laugh. If he didn’t he’d do something ridiculously stupid like tell Daniel how much he loved him. And that simply wouldn’t do. So, instead he laughed.

“My god, you can’t focus today!” Sam kept laughing, hiding his smile with his fingers. A shame, Daniel thought to himself.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. What do you want my excuse to be? The heat, the weed, or the dehydration?” It was Daniel’s turn to nudge Sam with his shoulder, feeling his nose scrunching up with the force of his laugh.

“All three are acceptable,” Sam decreed, running his hand through his hair as he spoke, “But, seriously. Why did you want to know what it feels like to kiss a guy?”

Suddenly, Danny didn’t feel like laughing anymore.

“Oh, I was just… curious…” To Danny, the most interesting thing in the world was his wringing hands. He simply could look nowhere else but at his calloused hands as they danced with one another.

Despite the fact that Danny was not looking at him, Sam knew those downturned, amber eyes had their attention trained onto him. He could feel them.

“Daniel… have you never kissed a guy before?”

Danny swore that his heart ceased beating inside his chest for a full second. Honestly, he was expecting this question to surface as soon as he, rather dumbly, asked after the feeling of kissing someone of his same gender. He guessed he finally truly understood the meaning of “curiosity killed the cat” as the silence between the two of them stretched on and on as Daniel failed to find his words. And perhaps he hadn’t perished, but it felt as if he was about to the way his heart was erratically fluttering under his ribs.

The drummer spared a glance in Sam’s direction, immediately regretting it as he met Sam’s expectant eyes. He darted his gaze away in record time, swallowing harshly at the way his blood ran cold.

“You and I both know the answer to that, Sam.”

He still couldn’t look at Sam, feeling like he’d much rather be run over with the golf cart they were perched on instead of having this conversation. Because, even though he wanted to know, he knew what this line of questioning implied: that he wanted to know for himself what it was like.

“......That was my first time kissing a guy myself.”

Daniel couldn’t help stealing a glance over at Sam once more. He wasn’t sure why that little tidbit of information was so shocking to him. Of course that was Sam’s first time kissing a man. They lived in rural Michigan where everyone knew everyone’s business; if someone so much as thought a gay thought, the whole goddamn town knew. Even barring that, Daniel knew everything about Sam. It shouldn’t have been a surprise… So why was it?

“Great. Glad you got that experience.” Danny’s tone was clipped to his own ears. He felt his brow knit as he forced his eyes downward, watching the breeze tickle the long blades of grass under his dangling feet. He was certain he was glaring at it so intensely that the poor foliage was about to catch fire.

“Yeah… It was pretty nice…” There was a dreamy, far-off quality to Sam’s voice. It only added fuel to the pyre of Daniel’s jealousy.

The conversation died out there, Daniel just allowing it to fizzle out instead of acting on his impulse to lash out at Sam. He knew this anger was misplaced and was bred from a place of envy, which was an entire can of worms that he didn’t want to open yet.

“Why?”

Daniel didn’t even look over at Sam.

“‘Why’ what?”

“Why do you want to know what kissing a guy is like?”

And there it fucking was. The question that Danny was praying Sam wouldn’t ask. The one that had an unspoken answer that Sammy likely already knew the answer to. So, out of spite and embarrassment, Daniel elected to ignore it. He even elected to ignore the way Sam’s stare was boring into the side of Danny’s head. Daniel even ignored the way his ears started to burn as his antagonism was melting away while his embarrassment increased.

“Danny…?”

Daniel finally broke, the heat of humiliation now scorching his cheeks as well. He locked eyes with his best friend, being greeted with a playful yet knowing smile. It was the most dangerous look that Daniel had ever seen on Sam.

Daniel wasn’t particularly a religious man. But, he was now praying that Sam would find it within himself to spare Daniel and let this moment go.

“Why do you wanna know?” Sam repeated, that wicked grin spreading to his eyes, causing them to sparkle with mischief.

Even if Danny had wanted to answer that, he was fairly certain he was incapable of finding the words to. Because truly, how do you tell the person that you’re in love with for years the truth?

Well, shit. Guess we’re fishing with worms tonight, boys.

After a beat of Danny opening and closing his mouth like a fish out of water, Sam was the one to finally speak again. He started off with that stoner giggle of his, which was never a good thing for Danny.

“Well… would you like to know?”

Immediately, panic set in. This was a joke… right? It had to be. No way in hell was Samuel fucking Kiszka, Daniel’s stupid crush of five years, asking Danny what he thought he was. Danny had never been that lucky in his life. Why would he be so fortunate now?

Before he even realized it, Daniel was shaking his head, wide-eyed and frozen like a startled horse. The weed was not helping things, either, only aiding in amplifying his panic. A million thoughts raced through his head like a maelstrom of anxiety; all of them relating to how Daniel had just fucked up his entire life and relationship with Sam with one stupid question.

Sam, seemingly totally oblivious to the soul-crushing dismay Daniel was experiencing, just smiled even wider at Danny. If anything, that mischief in the bassist’s eyes only doubled.

“Well, that’s just too damn bad, Wagner. Because you’re gonna learn today.”

And before Danny could even say anything, let alone process what Sam had said to him, he felt hands intertwining with his curls at the back of his head. Within the blink of an eye, Sam had his lips pressed against Danny’s. Their noses were smushed into one another’s cheeks, Sam using too much force in his haste. Sam’s exhale from his nose was uncomfortably warm, practically scorching against Daniels’ sensitive skin.

Despite all of that, Daniel felt as though he achieved nirvana. Truly, there was nothing in the world that he would trade for this moment. Once he had managed to get over his petrifying panic, Daniel all but melted into the kiss. He wanted so badly to wrap his arms around Sam and pull him tight against him. The urge was so strong that Danny felt his hands lurch forth onto Sam’s waist on their own accord, startling himself and Sam as they both let out a yelp.

That was when the panic set in. Suddenly, Daniel realized what was happening. That he was sitting atop a golf cart with his best friend, kissing one another as if it was something they did all the time. And they were both high as hell. They didn’t know what they were doing.

I should stop this

Daniel, a little reluctantly, attempted to pull away from Sammy. But each time Danny tried, Sam would tighten his grip on his curls and pull him back against his lips.

It was ridiculous. It was sloppy. It was intoxicating. And before long, all of the fight was sapped right out of Daniel’s spirit by the hands of Samuel’s astonishingly soft lips.

Once Sam realized that Daniel was done resisting him, that was when he slowly guided the drummer forward. Danny was so swept up in the disbelief of the moment that he failed to realize what Sam was doing. It wasn’t until he managed to finally break away to catch his breath that Danny noticed that Sam was on his back beneath him.

He wanted to ask “what are we doing” or “how did we get here”, but as Sam gazed up at Daniel with large, pleading eyes, all the words dried up in his throat. He couldn’t help but drink in the sight of Sam, taking in every detail of him and committing it to memory so that he might have a comfort for his darkest hours. His eyes flitted from one detail to the next, taking inventory of all the little things someone less in love might call “frivolous”. But to Daniel, he was nothing but a mere unworthy devotee luckily blessed with the opportunity to worship something so precious as the pink of his lips, or the flutter of his lashes.

Daniel was caught staring for too long, watching as Sam’s eyebrows drew upwards in confusion.

“What? Why are you staring at me like that?”

You’re gorgeous you’re wonderful you’re amazing you’re stunning you’re perfect I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I-

“Nothing,” Danny laughed off, “no reason at all.”

Sam joined in on Danny’s giggling, that brilliant smile spreading across his lips as the sweet melody of his laugh danced through Danny’s ears. Daniel couldn’t help it. He just leaned down and captured Sam’s lips with his own again.

There weren’t any fireworks or any crazy light show that went off as they kissed. It just felt… right. As if they were always meant to be doing this; like how it feels when you drink water when you didn’t even realize you were thirsty. And as they continued, the kiss gradually escalating, Daniel couldn’t help but picture them doing this all the time; whenever they wanted to.

Daniel did have to put a stop to their escapade when he felt the bassist’s deft fingers attempt to slip beneath his waistband, snapping him out of the fog that had clouded his mind.

“Woah, baby, slow down,” the drummer rushed, huffing in air as he tried to catch his breath.

Sam just responded with a pout on his kiss-swollen lips and a pleading look in his eyes. Danny couldn’t help but laugh a bit at the absurdity of it.

“Sam, we’re in a public space on top of a golf cart. We can’t be doing that.”

“But I want to,” Sam whined, cocking his head as he spoke. He even went so far as batting his lashes at the drummer.

Heaving a huge sigh, Daniel knew at that moment that no matter what, he truly would never be able to say no to Sam. He glanced around at the surrounding area darkened by the lack of sun, smiling at himself as he watched a firefly blink its light right next to his head.

“Tell you what,” Danny leaned back from his position of caging Sam in with his arms, extending a hand to Sam to help him upright, “how’s about we head back and try and find a more private place.”

Sam’s pout was replaced by a slow-growing sly grin. With a nod of his head, he leaned in close to Danny’s ear to whisper “I’d love that.”

Daniel returned his grin, fighting off a shiver as Sammy’s warm breath ghosted across his neck. But beneath the warm excitement buzzing in Danny’s veins was a nagging feeling that he just couldn’t ignore.

“But, I feel like there was somewhere else we were supposed to be tonight…”

As Daniel trailed off, they both heard the roar of thousands of festival goers as the strum of a power chord sailed across the expanse of miles. Suddenly, the pair of them tensed in place as they were reminded of their previous obligation.

“Oh my GOD. We have to be on stage,” Sam yelled as panic took hold of them both.

They scrambled off the roof of the golf cart, breaking down into a fit of giggles as they glanced at one another. When their eyes met, there was an unspoken agreement that they would pick up where they left off as soon as they could. And while Daniel floored the accelerator, Sam nestled himself against his best friend’s side while Danny wrapped his arm around him.

They would figure this out, and they would be incredible together. But first, they had to be rockstars.

+++

Tag list:

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#greta van fleet #greta van fic #danny wagner #sam kiszka #daniel robert wagner #samuel francis kiszka #sammy kiszka / daniel wagner #danny gvf #sammy gvf #jake kiszka #josh kiszka #josh gvf #jake gvf #sanny gvf

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foxgloveprincess · 3 months

Note

For whenever you feel inspired to play with him: Feeezy + pressed together in a tight space + “Ohhh, kitty cat, you have no idea what I could do to you.” 🫠 I think I just hurt myself writing this lollll.

Sweet Jesus, Siri. Fuuuuucccckkkkkkkkkkkk 🥴 This is giving A.W.A. Freezy before he took his princess.

Warnings: Dark AU, Prequel, Predatory Behavior, Housing Instability, Income Instability, Innuendo and Suggestion, Manhandling, Barely Edited. Minors do not interact (18+).

Word Count: 1,600

Please DO NOT click ‘Keep Reading’ if you are not 18+ years of age or if you are uncomfortable with the pairing, themes, dynamics, or warnings. You are responsible for your own media consumption. Thank you!

The stone concrete of the park table bench grinds into your thighs. But it’s a free place to sit and spend your time. Plan your future—if you even have one. The coins spread across the table. You flip each one face up and sort them out. It’s all so bleak.

You check the time on your watch and sigh. You’ll have to head back to Vera’s soon. She’s not your first choice for couch surfing, but she always says yes when no one else does. Staring hard at the coins, potential plans formulate. If only you could land a solid job or two, not like the one at the hotel that only calls you when they need extra hands.

The cheery, mechanical tones of the ice cream truck chime across the playground. You glance up, the same Mr. Freezy truck that stops by every day. The same ice cream man. It’s no substance, but you get up from your seat for the soft serve, scraping every penny up from the tabletop.

You hang to the back of the line, arms crossed over your chest and gaze cast to your feet. Shuffling along, you finally get to the front. You glance over at the menu, catch sight of his back, his hands digging around in his freezer.

“What can I get for you?” he asks, tone harsh and impatient.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Pronge,” you say, clear and loud—knowing the exact steps to this little game the two of you play.

He straightens and spins quick, leaning out his window a bit to get closer to you.

“Oh, hi.” His lips tilt in the inkling of a smile. His tone far more friendly, though still not soft. You don’t think he knows how. “Soft serve?”

“Yes, please,” you reply with a nod.

He gets to work, eyes glancing your way every so often. “You want it dipped?”

“Yes, please.”

He smirks. “Been meaning to ask,” he begins, stirring the chocolate with a ladle. “What’s your opinion on stuffed animals?”

Caught off-guard by the question, you don’t reply immediately, though you keep your smile on your face.

“I, uh, I think they’re cute, Mr. Pronge,” you finally say.

He turns and hands over the cone. You thank him and grab a couple of napkins from the holder.

“Cause I was thinking.” His shoulders shrug, but his eyes remain focused, intense. “I have a bunch laying around and I got no need for ‘em.”

“Oh.” You stare at him a moment, shifting uncomfortably under his gaze, wishing you could accept. “I would love to, except I don’t really have space for anything right now. I’m sorry, Mr. Pronge.” You want to look away, ashamed of your situation, but you can’t. That wouldn’t be playing the game.

His eye glint behind his glasses. His jaw ticks. You wonder if you’ve upset him. A glance at your ice cream cone turns your empty stomach—free food.

You bite your lip and say, “I’m living on my friend’s couch right now. I can only keep what I can carry.”

Tears dot your waterline, but you sniff them away. Refusing to break down in front of the generous man. He already pities you enough to give you charity. One a day, everyday. You don’t need to look any more pathetic in his eyes.

“I understand,” he says, reaching out his window to pat you on the shoulder. An awkward gesture, but one from which you don’t shy away.

“Thank you again, Mr. Pronge.”

He hums and you take the first bite, teeth cracking chocolate. “See you tomorrow.”

You wave and back away. Already, your ice cream starts to drip down your wrist. You lick at your skin before wiping with a napkin. Another half hour on the park bench, then you’ll head over to Vera’s.

The lights are so low you can barely see. Music thumps around the walls, barely intelligible. No melody, all about the beat. Sitting at a table with your water, you watch Vera, strutting around the dance floor. She flits from one partner to the next. Her smile shines bright, and it makes you wonder whether she had been telling you the truth.

Trying to fix the borrowed outfit, you wiggle in your seat. The fabric clinging too tight to all the places you don’t want the attention. You glance around, people watching. Waiting, really, for Vera’s friend.

The flash of glasses catches your eye. Illuminated by the lights flashing up above. You squint. It couldn’t be. The hair falling around his shoulders, the colorful collared shirt. You’d never seen him out of his uniform. It was hard to tell. If only they’d make this place a little brighter. You shake your head and take a sip from your glass of water.

“You should be dancing,” Vera slurs. Her body slumps against you. Already intoxicated from a few drinks. She wraps her arms around your neck and presses her face too close to yours. “Come on.” She tugs at your limbs, but you stay put.

“I thought we were meeting your friend?”

She huffs and releases you, opting instead to cross her arms and pout. “We will.” You’re surprised she doesn’t stamp her foot with the indignation in her tone. “As long as you catch his eye.” She nods toward the VIP section and the man lounging on one of the couches, surrounded by women. “So, come on.”

You swallow and stand. This was not the opportunity you expected, but you’d spent your last cent today. You’d have to do whatever it took not to drown.

Following Vera to the dance floor, you take a deep breath, trying to block out all the bodies crushed together. They press and grind. You sway. Skin crawling at the perceived attention. A fish out of water.

You hate this music. You hate these people. You hate your life.

Your hips move from side to side, shaking off hands that grope and the press of strangers. You’re not doing this for them.

Avoiding the VIP section, you glance around the dance floor. The figure you spotted before stalking right around the edges. You move your way closer, but he continues his path. Like a predator in the wild. He scans every body and swerves around obstacles.

But you see him, now. The glasses, the downturn of his lips, the tilt of his shoulders. Mr. Pronge.

You lose sight of Vera in the mass of bodies, but you keep dancing noncommittally. Anything for the chance to save yourself. You spin around, hoping to carve out some personal space. Just something to keep the others away from you. Dizzy, you notice the approaching figure.

“What’re you doing here?” he asks.

You meet his eye and try to smile through your shock. “Hi, Mr. Pronge.” You lift your hand in a small wave and keep your body moving. You glance over your shoulder, searching for Vera.

“I asked a question,” he growls.

He steps forward, you step to the side. He keeps advancing. And it’s like he’s herding you where he wants you.

You reach the edge of the dance floor and his hand wraps around your bicep. Leading you away from the crowd and the crush. The volume drops lower and the relief it gives brings a genuine smile to your face. But it’s then you realize you’re pressed against the wall of a narrow, deserted hallway by the ice cream man.

His brow raises, waiting for an answer. You nod and glance around the small space. Chest pressing to his.

“My friend wanted to introduce me to someone,” you reply. Hands flexing at your sides. You wonder what you should do with them. Where you should place them.

“Why?”

“He might be able to get me a job.” You keep fidgeting, more nervous by the second with him in such close proximity. The moment dragging between the two of you.

“No one in a place like this has good intentions,” he warns, gaze burning straight through you—was that disappointment or contempt.

Your eyes drop from his in shame. “Thank you for the advice, Mr. Pronge, you’ve always been so kind to me. I should get back.”

You try to move away, to escape, but he keeps you pinned in place. His chest expanding with his breath, the buttons of his shirt straining. His arms raise, finding this place to bracket your body, one by your waist, the other beside your head. Swallowing the spike of panic that threatens to grow into an all-consuming wave, you meet his eyes again.

Something dark shines back at you. In the low light, his hunger finds you its prey. You freeze. Unsure of how to proceed. Balancing on a thin line. Still needing his charity.

“You shouldn’t quite trust me either,” he whispers, leaning into your ear, arm muscles flexing. You swallow a whimper. He inhales a millimeter away from the skin of your throat and chuckles, dark and syrupy. Your stomach drops, a mix of apprehension and appetite. “Oh, princess, you have no idea what I could do to you.”

Your tongue swipes over your lips. More thirsty than you’ve ever been in your life. You wait, heart pounding in your ribcage.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

And that’s it. All at once, he backs away. A scream echoes in the distance, above the cacophony of the club. Your head turns in curiosity. The music cuts and you turn back to the ice cream man, only to see him slipping out a side door and disappearing into the night.

Thank you for sending this over, Siri! I had lots of fun! 💜

#mr. freezy x reader #robert pronge x reader #mr. freezy fanfic #mr. freezy fanfiction #attic wives anonymous #dark #dark fic #✨rachel replies✨#stargazingfangirl18 #18+#minors dni

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the-hinky-panda · 7 months

Text

The Gin Blossom: Part I

Title: The Gin Blossom

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Gilly Lopez x Reader

Summary: You thought you had your life all planned out until everything changed. Finding yourself a young widow, you turn an Airstream trailer into a food truck and tour the southwest. You met Riz and Songbird (from @bullet-prooflove's stories) and when they invite you to visit the revitalized town of Santo Padre, you find that maybe home isn't out of reach for you.

Big things were happening in Santo Padre.

You had heard about the revitalization of the quiet bordertown through the music and cultural festivals that you traveled to throughout the southwest. So it didn’t surprise you when Songbird contacted you about bringing your food and gin truck to her hometown. She was going to be doing a small concert with a couple of local bands and wanted to throw you some business.

Honestly, you were just happy to see her and Riz again. You had friends on the road but there was something different about them. They were real, warm, and good people. You could see the love they held for each other. Some people that are in love tend to close others out of their world, but they never did with you. Often after musicians would do a set, you would offer them a free meal and gin blossom special cocktail and Songbird was given the same treatment. Riz of course joined her and you got tired of leaning out of the open window to carry on the easy flowing conversation. You did something you never did and invited them into the trailer with you. The three of you spent hours sitting in the galley kitchen of the rehabbed Airstream trailer, eating, drinking, and laughing into the morning hours.

The third time you ran into them, it had been the anniversary of Dylan’s, your husband’s, death. You were in a bad way mentally, emotionally. Riz hung out with you until Songbird’s set started. He must have said something to her after the concert because as you were packing up the food and cleaning up the small kitchen in the airstream, she came to you, took your hand.

Come with us tonight.

So you did. They took you back to the plush hotel room that the concert sponsors paid for their performers. The room was twice the size of your airstream with a full size kitchen, living room, and large bedroom. You brought your favorite gin, a pale purple lavender infused bottle, and the three of you sat around in the living room area drinking and sharing the things that had broken your hearts. Songbird talked about her ex, Riz about growing up in an orphanage. You spoke about Dylan, your handsome, brave, kindhearted Dylan who had lost his battle with depression and PTSD.

They take you to bed with them that evening. You had never done anything like that before but the shared pain, the hope of finding something that helps glue the pieces back together, created a spiritual bond between the three of you that night. You wake up the next morning between the two of them, a tangle of legs and arms, the scent of cigarette smoke, Songbird’s perfume and Riz’s aftershave surrounding you.

It was the first time in two years that you hadn’t felt lonely.

You ran into them a few more times after that night until you heard that Songbird had canceled her tour and returned back to her hometown. It didn’t surprise you. One of things that you two frequently talked about was the concept of home and what it meant. She had found hers with Riz, in Santo Padre. You, you were still looking. So you pull up to the bar on the outskirts of town, park the truck and Airstream trailer in the back like you had been instructed and let out a long sigh. The moment of peace quickly evaporates as Songbird and Riz appear in front of the truck. Songbird is making her smiling way to the driver’s side while Riz hits the hood of the truck a couple times.

“I’m hungry. When’s the food going to be ready?”

You get out of the truck, give Songbird a hug and Riz the middle finger.

“We are so happy you’re here.” Songbird gives Riz a mirthful glare. “Contrary to other’s greetings.”

And you wonder if this is what it feels like to come home.

***

The local concert is a hit.

Hundreds of people come out to Joanna and EZ’s bar and they truly have something for everyone. The bands range from folk and acoustic to heavy metal. Although most of the heavy metal musicians are teenagers who have relieved parents in the audience, thankful that the screaming is not happening in their garage anymore. They’ve given you space in the family friendly area so you can get a wide range of foot traffic. The desert days are hot but the nights are still chilly so you choose for the menu this evening a gourmet toasted cheese sandwich that you cut into cubes and put on skewers to go with plastic cups of creamy tomato soup. For those looking for a drink other than on tap beer, you have a special orange blossom honey gin that pairs nicely with the cheese.

Riz brings members of the MC over to meet you as you pass food and gin out of the open bar window of the food truck. You tell them that the first drink is on you, something you frequently do when you want to be asked back at a venue. You meet Bishop, Taza, and Hank first. All three are polite and gracious in their welcoming. As the three leaders of the MC, they’re consistently moving through the crowd, making an appearance and their presence known. You have a feeling this is keeping the crowd polite and manageable.

Riz takes to leaning against the side of the airstream and waving at certain people he knows, introducing you to more club members as they wander past. You briefly meet Felipe Reyes, EZ’s father, when he brings you a plate of ribs from the smoker he was manning. You trade him some soup, sandwich, and gin in return. A few minutes later, you hear Riz whistle off towards the left to an area where you can’t see. He knocks on the side of the trailer to get your attention.

“This is a cool group of people,” he says before stepping out to greet the newcomers. It’s a trio of people that are ushered over to you, a thin man with his hair in braids, and two young women, a petite blonde and a dark haired girl with the same eyes as the man. Riz slaps the shoulder of the man. “This is Coco and his daughter Letty, and this,” he gives the blonde a one-armed hug, “is Stitches our medic. And rumor has it-“

“Don’t,” Stitches shakes her head.

“She and Coco eloped a couple weeks ago.”

The man chuckles as he blows out a steady stream of cigarette smoke. “How do you find this shit out, man?”

“I have eyes everywhere.”

You roll your eyes but pass two glasses of gin down to Coco and Stitches. “Congratulations!”

Letty also reaches for a glass but Coco slaps her hand away. “Uh huh. Not in public.”

Letty perks up. “So at home?”

“Nope,” Stitches answers. “Not there either. And if you think about sneaking something here, I will spend the rest of the evening with my arms around your neck yelling ‘This is my daughter and I looooooove her.’”

Coco laughs. “And I record it and put it up on TikTok.”

Letty crosses her arms. “I hate you both right now.”

Stitches gratefully accepts the grilled cheese and soup. “How’s that different from any other time?”

You and Riz laugh. “I told you they were fun.”

“They could have their own sitcom,” you comment.

There’s a lull after Coco, Stitches, and Letty move off into the crowd. Songbird is getting ready to do her set so Riz steps away to watch it. You can see the stage from your truck and notice she’s wearing that black silk dress that always seems to make Riz and her disappear for twenty minute intervals at venues like this. It makes you chuckle but also wonder if you’re ever going to find the love of your life, someone that looks at you the way Riz stares at his Songbird when she’s on stage. It’s pure adoration and affection and it makes your heart long for someone to feel that deeply about you.

You thought you had it once upon a time, and you did for a few months. You and Dylan had met when you were both stationed in Fallujah. You were a Marine tank mechanic and he was a gunnery sergeant. It was a match made in heaven. Or so you had thought. It had been great the first few weeks back stateside. You eloped two months of being back home. Your sister, the only living relative you had left, was happy but unsure of the quickness. You had explained to her that meeting someone in a combat situation tells you everything you need to know about someone.

You wish you had been right.

The nightmares started soon after you married. Dylan would scream and thrash around, fighting ghosts that had followed him home. In the first week, you had bruises all over your ribcage and down your legs. Dylan slept in the guest room after that but his screams still woke you up. You would cry yourself to sleep in an empty bed, helpless to soothe him. He went to therapy for a short time but found alcohol soothed the demons better than anything else. Once he fell into the bottle, there was no saving him after that. There was almost no saving you either.

A boisterous laugh pulls you from your memories and you see another MC member approaching the trailer. He’s a large man with an even larger smile. Tattoos decorate his arms, even across his knuckles. There’s the edges of a rose peeking out of the collar of his t-shirt. But it’s his smile and his eyes that you notice the most. His grin reaches all the way to his warm dark eyes.

“I see the greeter is otherwise engaged,” he says, hands shoved in his kutte pockets.

“Yeah, once Songbird starts singing, he kind of loses focus on everything else.”

He extends his hand towards you, a wide, strong grip. “I’m Gilly.”

And you’re a goner.

#gilly lopez x reader #gilly lopex x you #gilberto gilly lopez #gilly lopez fic #gilberto gilly lopez fic

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maryellencarter · 2 months

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yo tunglr how goest it

so! things keep Happening. i am like "i should make a post" and then things happen and i would need a whole additional post

so uh. where to start. i was in minnesota. i did not like minnesota. the social services are pretty damn solid but i did not know anybody except john and it was looking like a three year wait to get into housing, and i had to park a mile and a half away from the shelter because clearly letting homeless people park their cars next to the homeless shelter encourages them to remain homeless or something :P

and i have been trying for ten years to get back to the east coast, to the only place where i know more than one person in meatspace in the entire world. and then my tax refund came out to be Enough that i could afford to go to there. so i was like fuck it i will go to there

(can i afford to exist on the east coast? probably not. but i can't afford to exist anywhere that allows trans people. may as well be not affording to exist in a place where i have some sort of a network.)

so first i went to leia's and got a bunch of my stuff. mainly electronics and knitting. and then i came to here. i had arranged with a friend to use her address to receive mail and do laundry and shower and all those fun things you cannot do in a car. also i acquired some car-camping gadgets that plug into my car's cigarette lighter, such as an electric blanket.

(i even found out that my car has a 15amp cigarette lighter circuit like a semi truck, instead of a 10amp circuit like most passenger cars, so i can use a trucker's cookbox to heat up food! very exciting. still don't have an electric kettle but i saw a hopeful looking one at a truckstop, i'm just trying to pinch my pennies.)

anyway SO! got to friend's house. things went well for 2 nights. i successfully tested riding the metro and did not get the motion sickness. this was excellent news as i had to quit my last job in this area due to inability to arrive on time as i kept having to hop off metro and let my tummy settle

then friend's husband decided actually the plan that we thought had been cleared with him was Not okay, because he had managed to hear a totally different plan that only existed inside his head. (he does this. he has not managed to grasp that friend is against the palestinian genocide. they are both jewish so this is. a topic of regular conversation let us say)

so. i have been put up in a hotel for a week. very cozy. i just figured out how to use the coffee maker to make hot water for instant mashed potatoes. the week is running out but i have been looking into options.

so yesterday of course my phone had to go and fucking brick itself. (i think it was yesterday. time has been. somewhat. look i don't have a phone okay i can't exactly look at the date every five seconds as normal)

phone repair place gave me a free diagnosis, which was, the battery swoll up just enough to pop the back slightly open (it is not a phone that is supposed to open) and let water in and now the motherboard is ruined. it cannot be fixed

thank fuck i had picked up my electronics at leia's, thus i was able to communicate via ipad and laptop that this Had Happened. navigation is being *really goddamn hard* because i have to memorize directions from my wifi-only ipad before going out, and then somehow correlate them with very bad interstate signage (the only way i survived getting back from the phone repair place is that i'd been to an aldi in the same shopping center while my phone still worked)

i mean i could take transit but have you ever tried to take transit without a phone when transit maps are digital only

any fucking way. so then i went to the department of food stamps and all that stuff, to ask about assistance. the department told me i would have to be a resident in the county for nine months before i could even get into a shelter. also i got shuffled between several desks that were supposed to help me applicate for food stamps and medicaid before my name just... fell off the big monitor that showed all the people waiting and where they should go.

so my friend mara who is well connected in the local activism community began making Noises and we emailed a bunch of people. there is a place (nondenominational even! in minnesota you had your choice of the catholics, the "union gospel mission", or the sally army) that does free hot meals and helping applicate for shit and sometimes has charities come to give away free phones and so forth. sounds very much like the big central shelter and help center i was at in minnesota, except crucially not catholic.

(the catholics are better to deal with than the folks who require you to attend services in order to receive help. but they're still very... catholic about it.)

anyway that place says i can park there and not get towed, which is my largest concern. i have not actually gone to there yet because i did not feel like driving that far from my hotel with no gmaps until i have to. but it sounds extremely promising. i have some other emails to follow up on too but today i went and got one of my roughly-annual migraines so i was flat on my back in a dark room all day.

(at least the migraine had the decency to hit while i have a room and a bed and darkness all available. very polite of it. this has not been the case any time in the past six months and it has been a worry)

anyway i can't friggin get my lifeline provider (aka free government phone service for teh poors) to log me in on their website to look for a new phone without them being able to text my old phone, even though they offer me email verification and then just don't load the next page, so there is a solid nonzero chance i may lose this phone number. my contacts *should* be backed up to my gmail if i can get another android phone though.

so. uh. let's see. a new smartphone and service would run me close to $200 minimum. (i've been checking on a cheap service i had before becoming eligible for lifeline, which i was happy with. their very cheapest smartphone is like $114 on sale and their cheapest from a brand i've ever heard of, which i would strongly prefer, is a motorola running about $140 on sale. it's giant and clunky with a badly placed fingerprint reader but "able to get cellular service and run google maps therefrom" is my main priority right now.)

i have about $200 of my tax refund left in the bank. also i still need to buy gas. and some more food soon, i'm about down to canned chili (very edible cold in tortillas) and instant mashed potatoes (can make with cold water but they are significantly less delicious that way). and probably some other things i'm forgetting, and i haven't even started looking into the emissions test or my maryland ID and license plates. which i also wanted to budget about $200 for in case i have to pay excise tax for moving states like i did in minnesota (i don't know if i was supposed to or if the dmv fucked up). i forgot to ask if the one place does gas cards but i need to.

anyway i have to be out of my hotel room saturday morning so i am planning to spend tomorrow packing my shit back up and hauling it mostly down to my car. also i need another bath at some point. too much has been happening

sleeping in a bed has been very nice though. hadn't done that since august. i can sleep in my car and it's mostly comfortable but i'm fat and my steering wheel does not respect that

anyway. um. until more things explode i guess that is my update? jesus murphy. it's holy week and you can friggin tell. really bringing my catholic out. tomorrow is good friday and i definitely expect something more to explode. hell, my micro sd card was making noises about being corrupted and i was going to transfer stuff off it onto a new one via my computer and i haven't even started that yet because i've been so frazzled. it better not die along with jesus tomorrow, it's got all my music on it

#homelessness tw #uh i guess #who the fuck knows anymore #i haven't actually typed on a keyboard in over six months either so there's that #at least i still have my touch typing skills

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gtraccoon · 1 year

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part 5

honestly i didn’t think i’d be able to post this but i got free hotel wifi so here you go. apologies for it being shorter than usual. this is kinda just a snippet and i wanted to get something out for fun. this story has way more fluff than usual too because of a request from @sodastrain (very talented creative person) and because i’ve been writing angst and wanted something to counter that. hope you enjoy and please ignore any typos i was doing this in the car on 2 hours of sleep

wanted to write them being mature because even though they’re put in a pretty shit situation they’re still kids and having a tiny friend gives oppritunity for fun

Stan sat up, rubbing his eyes and letting them adjust to the light. He glanced over the corner of the bed, leaning forward to see the ground.

“Kyle?” He asked, quietly. Kyle was searching through his closet. He almost considered hopping down before he remembered how far from the floor he really was. Kyle tilted his head slightly, before looking back in his closet.

“Hold on.” He said, pulling out something in his hand. Stan squinted, but still couldn’t see what it was from the distance. He watched as he dropped 2 figures onto the bed, both bright in color. He looked up at Kyle, who seemed really proud of himself. Stan grabbed the hand of one of the figures, a green one, and pulled it up. He didn’t recognize it, but it seemed high quality. He struggled to hold it up due to the weight of the plastic. A thought lingered, and started to bother him.

He used to be able to hold this in his hand, with no effort. But now he was using his full strength to pull it off of the bed. Normally he wouldn’t care if people help him, or do things for him, but now all he wanted was was to be independent. He was snapped back to reality when Kyle lifted up the other figure.

He pushed up it’s arm, shoving Stan in the arm. Lightly, but enough to make him notice. In one of the arms, it held a green stick, and in the other, a red one.

“You need to prove your worthiness as a warrior by fighting me. And winning!” Kyle spoke for the doll, and Stan hesitantly grabbed the red stick. It fit nicely in his hand. The doll was slightly smaller than him, maybe a head shorter, which kind of reassured him. He smiled slightly, pulling back his weapon and striking the figure in the side.

“Oh noooooo!” Kyle said, his voice low, making it fall over. After a few seconds, Stan went in to hit it again, but it stood up. “I’m not going down that easily.” He said, lightly hitting Stan on the shoulder. Stan paused, bursting into laughter.

“Haha! You are weaker than I thought!” He exclaimed, hitting the doll in the head. Kyle let go, the doll falling off the edge of the bed. Kyle looked at Stan, who seemed already out of breath.

“Hey! I think his friends are coming. You gotta get out of here.”

“How?” Stan asked, feigning fear.

“Getaway vehicle.” Kyle said, grabbing a red truck toy from the ground. Stan hopped in face first, and Kyle tried to hide his excitement. Stan trusted him. He didn’t hesitate.

Lifting the vehicle off the bed, he held it out at arms length. Stan pressed his hands against the car door, he raised an eyebrow.

“How come the car’s flying?” He asked, and Kyle rolled his eyes.

“Because it’s a flying car, obviously.” He tipped it over, letting Stan fall on the pillow.

“Because you have questioned the car’s authority you are left to die with the soldiers who have come for revenge.” He smiled. Stan fell backward, exhaling and dropping his stick.

“Dude, that was only a few minutes and I’m already beat. I didnt think it’d be so tiring.” He muttered. Kyle sat next to him on the bed, glancing down at him. “But thanks for trying to make me feel better.”

“Anything. I mean, I kinda made you lose. So I don’t know why you’d be grateful.” He said, and Stan giggled.

“Yeah, but I don’t mind losing to you. Besides, I’ll get my revenge when I’m back to normal.” He sighed, closing his eyes.

“Hopefully that’s soon.” Kyle muttered, cleaning up the figures. After a few moments, he frowned. “I feel like I shouldn’t have said that to Kenny. I mean, he took you, but he was just curious. But then again..”

“That curiosity could get me killed.” Stan finished his sentence. “I mean, maybe we should talk to him, at least before tomorrow.” Kyle sat back on the bed, leaning against the frame.

“If you think that’s a good idea.” Kyle said, seeming uncomfortable with the thought of that.

“Kenny wouldn’t hurt me.” He said, more confidence in his voice than he was actually feeling. Kyle didn’t have a choice—he wanted to do anything to make Stan feel better—at least as good as you could feel in a situation like this. He just hoped it wouldn’t end badly, because if it did, he knew he’d never be able to forgive himself. But it’s something he had to do now, right? So he grabbed his coat, his hat—and Stan before leaving.

DONT be scared to give constructive criticism. don’t say “ur story sucks”, maybe just a “this is what you could fix” or “this is what you did well”. i’m always looking to improve and make more ppl happy. anyway i hope u enjoyed

#g/t #south park g/t #giant/tiny #south park #short story #writing

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super8ordairport · 3 months

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Hot Tub Hotel Near ORD

Our Park n Fly O'Hare Airport hotel is easy to reach from anywhere. When you have a booking at another of the hotels near Chicago ORD Airport, who knows what you might get. But it won’t be as good as when you stay with us. Whether you’re traveling on I-72 and need a great place to stay or will be mainly staying close to the airport, you can expect us to be easy to find and ready to serve and please you. If you need any assistance at any time, you can contact us for additional information, and we’ll do whatever it takes to help you find us.

#Hot Tub Hotel Near ORD #Free Breakfast & Shuttle Hotel #Free Shuttle Hotel Near ORD Airport #Hotels with Free Truck Parking #Hotels with CDL Discount #Elk Grove Village #Illinois Hotels #Chicago O’Hare Airport Hotel on IL-72 #Hotels near chicago ord airport #Hotels near convention Center #Chicago o'hare Airport Shuttle Hotels

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terrence-silver · 1 year

Note

How would Terry handle a beloved that didn't really care for fancy things. what would dates look like if they didn't want anything over the top? I feel like he wouldn't be used to people not wanting his money.

Somewhere along the way Terry's initial understanding of 'not fancy' might include him concluding that beloved could just want to be away from the buzz of city and that he has an appropriate (and fittingly isolated) colossal resort mansion he never uses and a privately owned mountain estate somewhere, just a quick drive or helicopter ride outside of LA, that costs more than can be calculated in money, fully equipped with a wine cellar, a pool, cars, twenty eight bedrooms, a hundred acres of prime land and five balconies just in case beloved wants to indulge in some getaway rustic ambience where they get to --- gasp --- optionally serve and tend to themselves. And fuck indefinitely for days sans interruptions, being as loud as they wished. Not that the locale ever mattered where volume is concerned for Terry.

Or maybe they could try with an island he owns.

How about cruising out on a Yacht for a week or two?

How about going to Tahiti --- to some hotel deliberately designed with a quaint, humble manner for wealthy patrons out to experience such a thing? Sure, eccentric, but Terry can arrange anything.

Money, acts of service and favours are his prime love language after all.

No?

Yes, you're right. I think Terry Silver would have a hard time immediately understanding what 'not fancy' even is for an ordinary person who doesn't come from exuberant wealth and what spending quality time without spending money necessarily looks like, even though he perfectly understands how to feign and put on working class airs when he needs to trick someone, the way he did with Daniel in the 80's --- but that was a deliberate ploy and this is, well ---- it is reality. That was a game, a trap, bait, intentional cruelty, gaining someone's trust, scoping out his target, appealing to him by presenting oneself as a kindred spirit from a similar background, and this? This is romance. It doesn't outright compute that the very thing he used as a manipulation tactic on someone is also something someone he loves might desire in the context of a date and bonding. Should he produce a busted up Ford truck again? Wear deliberately frumpy clothes for beloved's pleasure? Borderline feels like putting on a costume for Halloween for Terry. Have his stylists put together a line-up of attire he can wear for every date? Drive out to some...park, instead of renting out the Vip lounge of some Beverly Hills restaurant? Without some luxurious wine from some lavish catalogue? Without gifts? Without a million dollar view? Million dollar suits? Million dollar plans? Without any favours? Is this some kind of fetish? Some kind paraphilia beloved has? Just him?

Turns out, yes. That's exactly what beloved wants.

Initially, he almost wants to laugh at the notion. Cute.

King of confidence, secretly shaken.

Feeling a bit naked.

Not that it ever shows.

But, truly, Terry takes the task very seriously, perfectionist that he is. Far more seriously than he ever lets on. He's infinitely anal about it. Maybe with some theatrical airs, because he sees humbleness and simplicity as a sort of performance rather than something someone just does, spontaneously, every day, for free, alone or with others, with nothing to gain in mind, and so, a whole ritualized preparation covertly takes place just so Terry can have an ordinary time out, as an ordinary guy. He treats it like he's preparing to appear at some Gala function. He succeeds, of course, because while he gets what it entails, he's never been asked to be it because anyone liked that sort of thing before, and he's amused by the prospect. Oh, the things he does to please his beloved. Naturally, his amusement hides the fact that he's somewhat confused. And touched. And affected. And that he's on slightly foreign territory here. Feeling unusual. A bit out of control, which might have him acting agitated and fidgety. He might bring along a thirty year old bottle of Macallan to the date just in case. Some coveted piece of jewelry in a box. No? Just him? For a man convinced nothing's for free, this a hard lesson to muster and it will take a long time before he truly gets used to the fact, for all his arrogance, cockiness and bravado, that he's wanted as is, stripped of all the gloss. That some of the best things in life are indeed for free.

Any other time he'd say it is a bullshit rhetoric made up those who are broke.

Now?

He hates to admit that he feels strange and happy.

If not idle. He still finds ways to lavish beloved with something.

How about a smaller diamond, this time around, in keeping with the, erhm, theme?

No?

#HOW ABOUT A SMALLER DIAMOND #i make myself laugh #terry silver #kk3 #cobra kai #poorsona!terry #terry silver x reader #terry silver x beloved #character analysis

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schmergo · 1 year

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DC Cherry Blossoms This Week!

PSA for anyone going to see the cherry blossoms in DC this weekend!

The kite festival and associated activities have been rescheduled to Sunday (when the weather is supposed to be way nicer). The cherry blossoms ARE at peak bloom! They’re absolutely gorgeous!

A few tips from me, as someone who’s been there a LOT:

* The walk around the Tidal Basin is about 2.1 miles, so if you start walking around, so be prepared for that if you’re planning to make a full circuit! It’s not really possible to just exit halfway around and go back home unless you, like, call an Uber.

*If you just want a bite-sized cherry blossom experience, depending on where you enter the path and which direction you’re going, I recommend turning back after you hit your first memorial. (But the memorial in the middle, the FDR one, is my favorite, especially at night, so maybe come back sometime?)

* If you’re taking the metro (which is probably the most efficient way in), it’s about a 10-15 minute walk to the blossoms from the Smithsonian Metro Station, so budget that in to your plans! A lot of visitors are surprised there’s no metro stop for the monuments/blossoms.

* If you prefer driving and everyone in your party is able to use stairs, I recommend parking at The Portals parking garage on Maryland Avenue. It’s rather expensive but open until 11 PM and has a direct route to the blossoms. You just have to go down a bit of a long staircase behind the Salamander Hotel and then just follow the crowds.

* The path around the Tidal Basin is stroller accessible, but visitors may be surprised by how narrow it is. Especially when the blossoms are at peak bloom and paths are packed with crowds, it may be tricky to navigate the curves of a narrow path right next to the water. There are also some low branches and uneven parts of the path that may pose a slight challenge. It is supposedly wheelchair accessible, though I suspect that in practice, some manual chair users will have a bit of a tough time. There is no real railing between the path and the water in most places. Also, dogs are allowed.

* There are public restrooms at the Jefferson and Roosevelt memorials! The Roosevelt ones may be the easiest to find because they’re right there when you first enter.

* The best way to avoid the crowds is to go at sunrise or sunset. The monuments themselves are relatively well-lit, but the paths between are not always, so do be careful if you’re there in the dark! (Your biggest danger is probably accidentally stepping into the Tidal Basin, tbh.)

* If you go before sunset, there are food trucks in several locations just off the path! There are also benches and many grassy areas to spread out a picnic.

* Worth noting: you’re not supposed to climb the trees or pick the blossoms. I see people doing that every year, but you could get in trouble.

* In case you’ve never been into town, all the Smithsonian museums and memorials are free to visit! There are also themed cherry blossom festival specials at many local restaurants!

* Have fun!

#dc #washington dc #cherry blossoms #cherry blossom festival

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cafemilk-tea · 2 years

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Seattle

- taglist: @justmochi @cosmicwintr @ateezjuliet @billboard-singer

“Where are we headed again?” Evelyn brought her sunglasses back over her eyes, the blazing sun coming back out from its spot behind the clouds.

The group had landed in Seattle not too long ago, and with not having much time to sightsee before the show the next day, everyone was desperate to get out and see as much as possible. Seokmin had popped into Evelyn’s room after they arrived at the hotel and asked if she wanted to tag along with him, Jeonghan, and Joshua and of course she agreed.

“Um, it’s called ‘The Gum Wall’?” Joshua read off his phone, glancing up every now and then, switching back over to the GPS with the pinged location. He was voted to be the navigator for their outing, and had been leading the group ever since leaving the hotel.

“The Gum Wall,” Seokmin repeated, holding onto the strap of his camera, taking in the scenery, “It sounds intriguing.”

“Very intriguing,” Evelyn agreed, hoisting her purse up further onto her shoulder. Jeonghan had offered to carry her bag for her a few times, but she politely declined with the man still being injured.

“Just think of how gross that wall is.”

“Don’t even get me thinking,” Evelyn scrunched up her face in disgust, “I’m just gonna pretend it’s fake gum made to look real.”

“Good idea, I didn’t bring you a bucket to hurl,” Jeonghan joked, nudging Evelyn with his shoulder.

The group continued down the busy street, stopping to take a few pictures along the way and keeping their eyes peeled for the hidden alleyway. On the way, Jeonghan had spotted an ice cream truck parked alongside the curb, and the group couldn’t pass up the opportunity to get some along the way.

“Wait-,” Evelyn popped the last piece of her cone into her mouth, chewing quickly as she dug around her purse for her camera she had shoved in before leaving the hotel, “Sit down, I want to take a picture of you guys.”

“Seungkwan mentioned you’ve been a lot more pictures now,” Seokmin licked his fingers free from the already melting ice cream, sitting down on a nearby concrete wall with Jeonghan and Joshua following suit.

“It’s definitely one of my favorite gifts,” Evelyn brought out her camera , fiddling with the settings before bringing it up to her face with a smile.

#deluxeocnet #aes!ocnet #aesocnet #seventeen oc #idol!oc #14th member of seventeen #kpop addition #kpop oc #oc!idol #seventeen 14th member #fake kpop oc #fake kpop addition #fake kpop idol #cafemilk-tea: evelyn #svt.joshlyn #svt.evehan #svt.minlyn #café.drabbles

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namixart · 1 year

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Crossing lines, hand in hand, ch. 8

Read on AO3!

The one good thing about being stuck in the Gold Saucer was the Ghost Hotel. Not the general aesthetic of it, or the many cheap scares hidden in its halls—Cloud had never particularly cared for horror or generally spooky stuff, and he wasn’t about to start now—but the free apology stay in single rooms was nothing short of a blessing after months on the road.

As Cloud let himself fall heavily on his bed, he almost had to remind himself that he was supposed to be annoyed at the time they were wasting. But then he thought about Barret’s snoring and Yuffie’s constant tossing and turning, and remembered there were actual walls between him and them, not to mention an actual bed instead of a sleeping bag under him, and the annoyance melted away completely. He sighed deeply.

He so needed the rest.

He was more tired than he had been in months, with his limbs heavy and his brain foggy and slow. Dio’s arena had been rough: Cloud had been sent flying through the air more times than he could count, been badly burned all over his arms, and narrowly avoided getting skewered by a tiny green… goblin thing holding a kitchen knife. He’d even missed Dio finally forking over the Keystone because, after he’d cleared all eight rounds, he’d had to sit down with Aerith in a side room so she could heal all his burns, bruises, and cuts.

It was odd: more than once, he’d found himself looking around for his friends as he fought, only to remember he was the only one there. He couldn’t trust Barret to keep the enemies at bay while Cloud backed down for a second to catch his breath; there was no Tifa to help him keep the pressure on the monsters; Aerith couldn’t clear out the battlefield with a flick of her hand or keep Cloud safe from where she sat up in the stands. It had been just him down there.

A few months earlier, he wouldn’t have batted an eye at the prospect of facing down a slew of monsters alone. But things were different. So many things were different. Cloud furrowed his brows as he took a deep breath. Was it a good thing, that he’d started to rely so much on his friends in battle? Or would it eventually come back to bite him while fighting alone?

His thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door, a rhythmic and cheerful rapping that could only be coming from one person. Cloud smiled as he sat up. “Door’s open.”

After a beat, Aerith entered the room accompanied by a creepy screech that was for sure a feature of every hinge in the Ghost Hotel. She took a few steps forward and linked her hands behind her back with a smile. “Heya,” she said.

“Heya.” Cloud stood up, ignoring his sore… well, everything. “Need something?”

Aerith hummed. “Sorta. First, I wanted to check on you. Feeling okay?”

“Sorta,” he parroted with a half smile, slowly rotating his shoulder. “Still feels like I got run over by a truck after I ran a marathon.”

She winced sympathetically. “Ouch. Well, I guess… The other thing’s probably a no-go, huh?” She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, looking a little crestfallen. “Another time.”

Cloud furrowed his brows. “What other thing?”

Aerith nodded towards the door. “Well, I just figured… We’re stuck here anyway, right? Might as well go have some fun and check out the park.”

“Oh.” Cloud bit his lip. He’d really been looking forward to an early night in a real bed, but… “I’m not that tired,” he said slowly.

She looked at him for a moment, then huffed out a laugh. “You don’t have to do that. Just rest up, okay? You don’t need to force yourself to go out for my sake. I probably shouldn’t have asked, anyway. I’ll just turn in early as well.”

Cloud furrowed his brows. “What? What about the others? Did everyone say no?”

“Oh.” Aerith giggled. “I haven’t told anyone else. As much as I love our friends, I was kinda asking youout on a date.”

Cloud stared at her. She calmly held his stunned gaze with an amused smile on her face.

He blinked. She waited.

“Huh?” he said eloquently.

“A date,” she repeated.

Cloud looked away. “Yeah, I—uh—I heard that.” Although he’d thought he’d heard wrong because what!? “It’s just—a date? Y-You? With me?”

Aerith hummed as she rocked on the balls of her feet. “Yup.”

“…Why?”

Aerith burst out laughing, clutching her stomach. Cloud took a step back and crossed his arms over his chest, feeling his ears burn. “Hey, don’t—”

“Sorry, sorry,” she wheezed, waving a hand in the air. But she was still giggling. “It’s just—why?” She covered her mouth as another chuckle spilled out. “Sorry, gimme—gimme a second here. I swear I’m trying to—why!”

Cloud waited for her laugh attack to pass, drumming his fingers over his arms. “Alright, alright, I get it,” he muttered. “I’m an idiot.”

Aerith straightened up with a deep, shaky breath. She was slightly red in the face and her eyes were still full of mirth “Whew. Wow, I’m sorry about that,” she said, panting a little bit. “You just caught me by surprise. No one’s ever asked me why I wanted to go on a date with them. Though I guess there were a couple of jerks who asked why I thought they would want to go on a date with me. So, like, screw them, right?”

Cloud nodded slowly. “Right.”

“Anyway,” she continued, putting her hands on her hips. “To answer your question: first off, I still owe you for your bodyguard services.”

Oh. Right. Cloud hummed, hoping the disappointment didn’t show on his face or in his voice.

“Second, I like spending time with you,” said Aerith. Her expression softened into the fond smile Cloud had discovered in Cosmo Canyon, and his heart skipped a beat. “You talk more, when it’s just us. About stuff other than the mission, I mean. And you smile more too. I like that Cloud.” She giggled. “And maybe I wanna keep him all to myself for a while.”

Cloud nodded slowly, then blinked twice and shook his head. Shit, he was supposed to reply. And also breathe. “I—uh, I mean—” What was he even supposed to say? To pinch him because there was no way this was real? That he needed several moments to process the fact that she wanted to go on a date with him? That he was completely, desperately, and embarrassingly in love with her? How could he tell her any of that without coming off as the creepiest weirdo to ever walk the Planet? He cleared his throat and averted his gaze. “Like I said. Not that tired,” he muttered. His face was on fire. Damnit. “We can go out, if you want.”

Aerith tilted her head to the side. “You sure?”

He nodded.

She didn’t say anything for a couple of seconds, so Cloud hazarded a look at her. She was smiling softly, eyes gleaming with affection. “You’re so sweet,” she said. She reached out to take one of his hands out of its nervous arms-crossed-knot and squeezed it. “It’ll be fun, I promise. What say you we grab a late-night dinner?”

“Yeah. Sounds good,” said Cloud, and let her lead him by the hand out of his room and into a date.

The park was as crowded at almost-midnight as it had been in the afternoon. Aerith caught Cloud’s perplexed expression and giggled. “It’s Enchantment Night,” she said, dangling their joined hands between them. “All the rides are free.”

Cloud hummed. “So that’s why you picked tonight to pay your bill,” he said. It was a bit easier to talk about the fact that they were on a date if he was teasing her.

Aerith laughed and stuck her tongue out at him. “Unlike some people, I’m not a cheapskate. It’s just a coincidence.”

“Uh-huh.”

She pulled a faux-offended face and let his hand go to cross her arms. “Well then, maybe I’ll just call the whole thing off. That’ll teach you.” But she was trying to stifle a smile.

“You wouldn’t,” said Cloud, looking away from her. “You have a debt to settle.”

Aerith hummed. “I wouldn’t, and I do. And I’m a woman of my word. Hey, I think that over there is a diner. Sound good?”

Cloud nodded and followed her as she walked ahead towards the diner, her braid swishing behind her. He kind of missed the contact of her holding his hand, but he couldn’t very well just reach out and take hers back. Aerith led them to a small table at the back of the diner, which was right by a large window overlooking a big arena with a stage to the side. It was slowly filling with people, and someone was on stage talking into a microphone, but Cloud couldn’t make out a word they were saying from behind the glass.

“Dinner and a show, huh?” said Aerith, gathering her skirt under her knees as she sat down. “Shame we can’t hear any of it.”

Cloud hummed. “Maybe there’s a later showing? Um, if you want to go.”

Aerith tapped her lips in thought. “I think I saw posters about the show, but I don’t remember the times. Oh, well. Are you hungry? Now that there’s food around me, I’m kinda starving.”

“I could eat,” said Cloud, eyeing a server weaving through the crowd while carrying two large pizzas. A low grumble came from his stomach, and Aerith giggled. “A lot. I could eat a lot,” he amended, feeling his cheeks heat up. “I actually don’t think I had anything after Dio’s Battle Square.”

Aerith clicked her tongue. “Well, that won’t do.” She waved to a waiter to get their attention. “Just hang in there.”

Only a few minutes later, the waiter returned with their food—a pizza for Cloud and a very well stacked burger for Aerith, plus a large plate of fries to share. She squealed happily when the server set the plates down in front of her. “Oh, I love food,” she said, clasping her hands together.

Cloud chuckled as he took off his gloves and grabbed the very blunt pizza cutter from the cutlery box. “Who doesn’t?”

She giggled. “Fair enough. By the way,” she said, grabbing two fries from their sharer plate, “this is familiar, isn’t it?”

“Oh. Yeah, I guess.” Cloud hummed. It seemed so long ago. “You’re not gonna pass out on me, are you?”

“Absolutely not,” said Aerith, popping the fries into her mouth. “Dates aren’t for passing out. Which, shame about that time in Wall Market, ‘cause other than the dizzy spell it almost was a date.”

Cloud furrowed his brows. “It was a rescue op.”

She shrugged. “As I said. Almost.”

He rolled his eyes and Aerith giggled. “Come to think of it,” she said with a sly smile, “last time we were here, too. Very date-like.”

Cloud frowned. “Last time…?” He shook his head. “I was trying to cheer you up.”

“And you did. With date-like activities.” She waved a fry in the air. “We went to see a Chocobo race, we went to a fair… you even won me a plushie! Very romantic, I must say.”

He planted his eyes on his pizza. What is she saying? “That’s not—”

“Of course,” continued Aerith, with a mischievous glint in her eye, “we could say the same about Wutai too.”

“Wutai?” Cloud crossed his arms. “You wanted to teach me gardening!”

Aerith waved a hand in the air. “But I didn’t! We just hung out in a lovely flower field and talked while I turned you into a human bouquet. It totally counts! Remember what I said in Wall Market?”

He pursed his lips. “You said… a lot of things.”

She laughed. “It’s not a trick question.”

“I just mean that you talk a lot.” He gave a half laugh at Aerith’s faux-offended gasp. “Wouldn’t know where to start.”

She stuck her tongue out at him. “Meanie. I was talking about the date I promised you.”

“You mean this one?”

“Yeah—well, no, not at the time.” She leaned forward with her elbows on the table. “I said I’d take you somewhere nice and surprising. Like… a pretty meadow in a foreign country? And that there’d be lots and lots of flowers.”

Realisation dawned on Cloud. “…Maybe a pocket flower,” he said, echoing her words from so long ago.

Aerith hummed, satisfied, and sat back in her seat. “See? Totally lines up!”

“I, uh… I didn’t know those were… dates.” He inwardly cringed.His clinical awkwardness would be the death of him.

She shrugged. “Well, neither did I. But they could’ve been. We could just say they were.”

He looked up again and furrowed his brows. “We could?”

“Sure.” She winked. “Who’s keeping count, anyway? The dating police?”

That got a laugh out of him. “That’s a thing?”

Aerith winked. “Let’s not tell them, just in case. So?”

“So what?”

“So… were those dates?”

“Oh, um…” Cloud scratched the back of his neck. “I, uh…”

Aerith pouted. “Oh, no, don’t do that. You were doing so well. You forget to get flustered when you’re being argumentative.”

Cloud frowned, but only to suppress a smile. “So what, you want to fight?”

She laughed. “Yep, just like that.”

Cloud rolled his eyes. When he looked at Aerith again, she had her hands linked under her chin and her elbows resting on the table. She was still waiting for an answer. He swallowed. “I, uh,” he started, “I don’t think they count. As dates.”

Aerith lifted an eyebrow. “Oh? How so?”

He averted his gaze. “Well, neither of us knew they were.”

She giggled. “Why does that matter?”

“Because if they were, we’d have been dating for, what, months? Without realising?” Cloud huffed. “That’s dumb.”

Aerith burst out laughing. “It really is. And yet.”

He frowned and crossed his arms. “No. Absolutely not. This is our first date.”

Her smile widened. “First? You mean you want more? My, how direct.”

It was like she’d stolen the air out of his lungs and then taken a lighter to his face. He ran a hand over it, vaguely wishing he could wipe off the flush. “I—I, uh…”

Aerith laughed again. “You know,” she started, reaching out to gently pry his hand from his face, “in all of this very normal conversation, we’ve never once asked the one thing that matters.”

Cloud hazarded a look at her. “What’s that?”

“If we want to be dating. Do you?”

It was a point of no return. He could lie, and save himself the rejection. Or he could be brave.

He closed his eyes and nodded.

He wasn’t brave enough to trust his voice.

Aerith giggled and let go of his hand after giving it a final squeeze. “Great! Me too. Now, finish your pizza before it gets cold—I’ve got an idea for later.”

“H-huh?” Cloud blinked dumbly at her. “That’s it?”

Aerith hummed as she took a bite out of her burger. “Sure. Sometimes things are that simple. You ask someone out, and they say yes. What were you expecting?”

Rejection. Barring that… More coherent words out of my mouth. Telling you I’m in love with you. Kissing you.

Cloud shook his head. “Never mind,” he said, picking up a slice of pizza. It was going kinda cold.

Aerith levelled him with an amused look, but didn’t tease him any further.

They ate more or less in silence for a little while after that. Aerith would make little comments about what was apparently going on in the play—some kind of fairy tale? There was a dragon and someone dressed as a wizard—or about the people around them, light-hearted and casual. She was smiling the entire time, though, even when they were just eating in comfortable silence, so maybe Cloud wasn’t the only one who couldn’t stop thinking about their conversation.

It was astonishing how much and how little seemed to have changed with the simple change in status of their relationship—from “friends” to “dating.” Aerith wasn’t acting any differently, and yet there was a shift in her tone, her eyes, her smile—little changes that all added up to… not much of a change after all. Or maybe it was just Cloud being hyper-aware and over-analysing everything. It got him wondering if maybe she’d been onto something with her claim that they’d been dating for a while.

They were dating. In a relationship. And it had happened with only an awkward conversation and a simple question. There had to be a catch. But, glancing at Aerith, he couldn’t help but think that it was safe to trust her and everything she said. He was safe with her. He silently vowed that she would always be safe with him as well. And, maybe, someday he would find the words to tell her.

He shook his head, and found her looking at him.

“What?” he asked.

Aerith smiled. “I know you were tired tonight,” she said. “But thank you. I’m really glad I’m here with you.”

Cloud nodded slowly. “Uh, sure. I told you, I—”

“Wasn’t that tired—I know.” She rolled her eyes playfully. “Still, thanks. Hey, you done?” She shoved the last two fries in her mouth. “If we hurry, we should make it just in time.”

Cloud had finished his pizza a little while earlier—his mom’s complaints that he ate too fast were still fresh in his mind after all those years—so he nodded. “Where’re we going?”

Aerith stood up and held out her hand. “Surprise!”

Cloud took it and followed her—only stopping to pay for the dinner.

Once out of the diner, Aerith pulled Cloud through the crowd, weaving between families and couples like a woman on a mission.

“You sure you know where we’re going?” he asked, ducking to avoid a man’s enthusiastic gesticulating. “This place is a labyrinth.”

Aerith nodded without looking back. “Don’t worry! We’re almost there.”

Suddenly, she pulled him in front of her, pushed him into one of the chutes—he didn’t see which one—and got in after him. They stood close to each other in the small space, panting slightly from the run. Aerith was smiling and her face was flushed, and Cloud was hit by the almost overwhelming need to kiss her, to run his hands through her hair, to hold her—but the chute arrived at its destination and both of them stumbled out onto a small platform. A woman in uniform standing by a wooden kiosk eyed them disapprovingly.

“The chutes are single-person only unless you’re accompanying children,” she recited, frowning.

“Sorry, sorry,” said Aerith, straightening up. “We didn’t mean to. It was crowded at the Terminal and I kinda got pushed in too,” she lied casually and, judging from the woman’s unimpressed glare, unconvincingly.

“Uh-huh,” she said. “You here for the gondola? We close in ten minutes.”

Finally, Cloud realised where they were. Just beyond the kiosk was a small cabin suspended from a rail whose path Cloud couldn’t make out past the first bend, as it looped back around the main body of the Gold Saucer.

Aerith rocked on the balls of her feet. “Did we make it in time?”

The woman shrugged. “Barely. Get on.”

Aerith beamed and grabbed Cloud’s hand again to drag him to the cabin. The inside was even more cramped than it looked from the platform and, with the two of them sitting on opposite sides, there was barely any room between their knees. The attendant secured the door and then headed back to the kiosk. A second later, the cabin shook slightly and began to move.

Aerith gave a soft squeal and peered out of the window to her left. “I saw the gondola ride above the theatre, earlier. It goes over the whole park!”

Cloud hummed. “How did you know we were cutting it close?”

She shrugged. “Guessed. It is getting pretty late.”

Cloud vaguely remembered spotting a clock in the Terminal Station. It had read one in the morning. “So much for our early night, huh?”

Aerith giggled and leaned back. “Yeah. Still, I’m glad I’m here.”

“Me too.” He smiled.

The gondola rose higher and higher up in the sky while they sat in comfortable silence for a little bit. Cloud had half expected to have to hide the nausea, but for some reason the ride didn’t bother him at all. Maybe it was because his stomach was way too tied up in knots already to even think about getting sick.

Aerith was leaning with her elbow on the windowsill, watching the view. Fireworks had started to go off, and the light they shone on her was colourful and gorgeous—like the flowers she loved so much. Like her.

She sighed, and Cloud realised he’d been staring. “Thank you for tonight,” she said. “This is… so beautiful. I’m glad I’m sharing it with you.” But she didn’t look glad. She was smiling, yes, but with a sad tilt to her lips, a wistful air in her eyes.

“Are you okay?” asked Cloud. He thought about reaching for her hand, resting on the windowsill, then thought better of it.

Aerith shook her head. “Yeah. No… Yes—it’s complicated. Ah, it’s nothing. Don’t mind me.”

He furrowed his brows in a silent question. Aerith sighed again. “I’m so, so happy I’m here with you,” she repeated. “It’s just… at first, you reminded me a lot of someone. Someone who’s… not in my life anymore. It bothered me a lot, at first.”

“Someone?”

Aerith waved a hand in the air. “Someone. You had all these little things in common—in the way you move, or talk…”

Cloud looked away. “That bad?”

She smiled a bit. “Not bad or good. At first, I thought maybe…” She shook her head. “But no. Things are different. You’re different. And I’m happy I’m here with you. Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

She reached out to take Cloud’s hand, and gave it a little squeeze. He squeezed back, feeling his cheeks heat up a bit. They smiled at each other, but hers was still stained with sadness. “But…?” he asked.

Aerith huffed a bit. “When did you get so observant?”

“You’re not as sneaky as you think you are,” said Cloud, shrugging. “Something’s still bothering you. You, uh, don’t have to tell me, though. If you don’t want to.”

She shook her head. “It’s okay. I don’t know if any of this’ll make sense, though.”

He gave a half smile. “Try me.”

Aerith sighed. “It’s just… Sometimes, I look at you, and it’s like I can’t focus my eyes right. You’re here, but I can’t find you.”

Cloud furrowed his brows. “But… I am here.” I’m with you. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be. What does she mean?

She giggled. “I know, I know. I told you it didn’t make sense. Don’t worry about it, I’m just being weird.”

He hummed after a second of hesitation, then leaned back in his seat. Aerith sighed, shook her head, and turned to look at the fireworks again. “Tonight isn’t for sad memories or vague premonitions. It’s for appreciating all the wonderful things happening right now.” She glanced at him. “Like the fireworks, like our friends. Like you.” She took his hand again.

Cloud hesitantly entwined their fingers. “Like you.”

Aerith didn’t turn to look at him, but she smiled softly as she stared up at the sky, at the fireworks dancing across the stars and painting pictures of light. Cloud wanted to keep that image in his memory for the rest of his life.

I could kiss her right now. She’s right here, we’re on a date. I could…

He pressed his lips together. “Aerith…”

She turned. “Hm?”

He opened his mouth, then closed it. His resolve had evaporated the moment she’d turned her big, curious eyes on him. He shook his head. “Uh, never mind.”

Aerith cocked her head to the side, then gave a perplexed smile. “Okay? Oh, no, look.” She pointed out of the window. “I think the ride’s almost done.”

She was right. They were right back in front of the rollercoaster they had started from. Cloud swallowed his disappointment and regret. If only he wasn’t such a lovesick idiot. A bell rang as the gondola wobbled to a stop. The attendant from before hastily opened the door and motioned for Cloud and Aerith to get out of the cabin.

“Looks like our magical ride is over,” said Aerith. “That was really special. Thank you,” she said to the attendant.

Her sour expression softened a bit. “Yeah, yeah. Enjoy the rest of your stay at the Gold Saucer.” She waved her hand in a shooing motion. “Now scram. I gotta lock this place up.”

Aerith giggled and took Cloud’s hand again as she made for the chutes.

“Only one person per chute!” yelled the attendant.

“We know, we know!” laughed Aerith.

She trailed to a stop in front of the doors to the chutes, still holding Cloud’s hand. “See you at the Terminal Station?” he said.

Aerith hummed. “Can’t wait.” Neither of them let go of the other.

“Can you two take the flirting somewhere else?” called the attendant. “Some of us wanna go to sleep.”

Aerith giggled and finally let go of Cloud’s hand. “Sorry, sorry.” She waved at Cloud. “See you in a minute.”

Then she stepped inside the chute. Cloud watched the door close behind her and took a deep sigh.

“Whipped, huh?” said the woman behind him.

He turned around and shot her an annoyed glance. She shrugged. “I calls it like I sees it, Blondie. Go on now, don’t make her wait. Be disgusting somewhere I don’t have to see it.”

He rolled his eyes. “Roger that.”

When he stumbled out of it at the almost-empty Terminal Station, Aerith was right there waiting for him, rocking on the balls of her feet with her hands linked behind her back.

“Missed you!” she said with a smile.

Cloud huffed good-naturedly. “It’s been thirty seconds.”

Aerith put a hand on her chest. “Longest thirty seconds of my life.” She giggled, then cleared her throat and smiled fondly. “I loved tonight. Really. Thank you.”

He nodded, then frowned a bit.

Aerith cocked her head to the side. “What’s wrong? You didn’t have fun?”

“No, no. That’s not it.” Cloud looked away. “I was just… thinking about what you said.”

“Which part? I talk a lot, remember?” She winked.

Cloud rolled his eyes. “On the gondola. About… not being able to find me.”

Her eyes went a bit wide, and she waved a hand in the air. “Oh, that. Really, ignore everything I said. It’s nothing.”

But Cloud shook his head. “It’s not nothing. It’s bothering you.”

Aerith was silent. Cloud pressed on. “I… don’t really know what you mean. I don’t know how I can be here and far away at the same time.” He scratched the back of his neck. “But I wanna fix it. I wanna try. I… I don’t wanna be far away from you.” He swallowed a knot in his throat. “You’ll always find me right here. Whenever you need me, wherever you need me.”

A long moment passed. Aerith was looking at him, eyes wide and full of wonder and surprise. Cloud held his breath.

Then she laughed. “Oh my god, Cloud… How do you always know what to say?”

He let out a huff. “What are you talking about? Have you met me?” He felt the tips of his ears burning.

“Okay, fair, maybe you don't.” She slipped her hand in his and looked up at him. “Maybe you're a flustered hot mess who stumbles over his words when he’s trying to be nice. But it's okay. I can hear what you're really saying.”

“Oh?” Cloud swallowed a knot in his throat. “What am I saying?”

Aerith smiled and stepped right up into his personal space. “You're saying, ‘I wanna make you feel better,’” she said. “You're saying, ‘I care about you.’” She leaned up until their faces were just a breath apart. “I wanna kiss you.”

Cloud was glued to the floor, pinned in place by her gentle hold on his hand and the pull of her eyes, so close that he could count the specks of brown and gold in them. “I—I'm saying that?” he stammered, like an idiot.

Aerith giggled, but she didn't step away. “You tell me, mister,” she whispered. “Are you?”

Thankfully, the answer was simple and short—no chances of messing it up. “...Yeah,” he breathed.

“Awesome.” Aerith's smile widened. “Me too.” And then she finally closed the distance and pressed her lips to his.

It still caught him by surprise. If not for Aerith’s warm hands cupping his face, he would have instinctively recoiled back and regretted it for the rest of his life. Instead, he tentatively brought his hands to her waist to nudge her closer as he kissed her back.

Gently. Softly. Afraid to mess up.

Aerith giggled quietly on his lips, and the vibrations shot down to his chest like electric shocks.

“Been wanting to do that,” she whispered, stepping back just enough to speak.

Cloud nodded a bit shakily. “Yeah. Me too,” he said, and kissed her again.

Finally.

He kissed her until, in a display of pure evil and poetic parallels, a loud boing sound effect played and the two of them sprung apart to spot Cait Sith standing at the other end of the Terminal Station, holding something that greatly resembled the Keystone Cloud had just fought so hard to get from Dio.

#final fantasy vii #cloud strife #aerith gainsborough #clerith #my fics #my writing #my stuff

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lgcmanager · 8 months

Text

LGC GIRLS JAPAN 004

SCHEDULE TYPE: TRIMESTER ( PART 1 OUT OF 1 ) SCHEDULE RESTRICTIONS: cannot be paired with another trimester schedule, unless stated otherwise. for reference as to whether your muse is eligible for this event, please click over HERE.

early morning on OCTOBER 16, KIM HYUNCHEOL is already waiting for the girls in the meeting room as they come in. a file folder is waiting for each girl in front of their seats. when everybody has found a place, hyuncheol finally speaks: "good morning. the family concert is now behind us, so we can finally share the details of LGC GIRLS JAPAN's SECOND SINGLE and FIRST LIVE TOUR."

SINGLE

"in front of you, you'll find a file with various lyrics sheets. the first one is the TITLE TRACK of your single, called "FIRE TRUCK". the concept is inspired by the famous SAILOR SQUAD, and each of you have been assigned a member. your hairstyles will be changed or refeshed to relect your assign member:

CHA SORI: SAILOR MERCURY (short black hair)

NOH AREUM: SAILOR JUPITER (long brown hair)

PARK JAEKYUNG: SAILOR VENUS (long blonde hair)

PARK TAEHA: SAILOR MOON (long blonde hair)

YANG AERA: SAILOR MARS (long black hair)

since the release of the single is planned for NOVEMBER 21, you'll have the week to learn and practice the song and will record it next MONDAY. the following days will be dedicated to learn the choreography and the music video will be filmed on OCTOBER 30. then from OCTOBER 31 to NOVEMBER 20 focus will be on practicing for the tour. on NOVEMBER 20, you'll be flying to JAPAN and spend the following 3 days promoting the single at various TOWER RECORDS locations."

LIVE TOUR & HANDSHAKE EVENTS

"the following pages in the file are all dedicated to the tour. added to the lgc girls japan songs you've already practiced and the new singles songs, are 3 of your suggestions and 2 additional songs picked by the staff, for a total of 10 songs."

1. BREAKTHROUGH (lgc girls japan) - All [ MC 1: Intro ] 2. TOKYO DRIFT FREESTYLE (cover) - All 3. BZZ BZZ (new single bside) - All 4. GIRLS GOTTA LIVE (lgc girls japan) - All [ MC 2 ] 5. LOOK AT ME NOW (lgc girls japan) - Aeri, Areum, Sori 6. JANKENPYON (cover) - Jaekyung & Taeha 7. HEAVY ROTATION (cover) - All 8. CLAP CLAP (cover) - All 9. Idol (cover) - All [ MC 3: Ending ] 10. FIRE TRUCK (new single title track)

all relevant details of the new single & upcoming tour are available HERE

"the tour will have a total of 14 shows. every show will be preceeded by a one hour GROUP HANDSHAKE EVENT with about 100 lucky fans. furthermore, during the period of the tour, you'll be flying to japan on THURSDAY EVENINGS and come back to seoul on MONDAY MORNINGS. since this schedule will be quite demanding, we only ask you an 8 hour of practice during your time in seoul. you may do anything during the rest of your free time. however, i strongly advise that you spend time working on your stamina if you want to get through the tour without any injury or getting sick. your health needs to be a priority."

NOVEMBER 25: Kanagawa (Harmony Hall Zama Dai Hall)

NOVEMBER 26: Tokyo (Line Cube Shibuya)

DECEMBER 2: Miyagi (Sendai Sunplaza Hall)

DECEMBER 3: Iwate (Oshu-shi Bunka Kaikan Z Hall Dai Hall)

DECEMBER 9: Osaka (NHK Osaka Hall)

DECEMBER 10: Osaka (NHK Osaka Hall)

DECEMBER 16: Ehime (Matsuyama-shi Sogo Community Center Camellia Hall)

DECEMBER 17: Aichi (Nippon Tokushutogyo Shimin Kaikan Forest Hall)

DECEMBER 23: Shimane (Shimane Kenmin Kaikan Dai Hall)

DECEMBER 24: Hiroshima (Ueno Gakuen Hall)

DECEMBER 30: Kagoshima (Houzan Hall)

DECEMBER 31: Fukuoka (Fukuoka Sunpalace Hotel & Hall)

JANUARY 6: Hokkaido (Sapporo Cultural Arts Theater Hitaru)

JANUARY 7: Kanagawa (Harmony Hall Zama Dai Hall)

rooming at the hotel during the tour:

ROOM A: PARK TAEHA, YANG AERA

ROOM B: CHA SORI, NOH AREUM

ROOM C: PARK JAEKYUNG, ACCOMPANYING STAFF (changes almost every week)

SUPER✰NOVA & LGC RETREAT

"finally, most of the debuted artists will that part in a RETREAT in december. unfortunately, due to their schedule, NOVA will be unable to attend. instead, their participation will be done through preparing a meal for the company's artists and staff members. considering the group only has 6 members, they are far from enough to be able to prepare LUNCH BOXES for everybody in a timely manner. so it's been decided that the five of you and some LGC SPRING BOYS members will be assisting the girls in their task, on DECEMBER 6." hyuncheol announces. "the activity will be used as content for NOVA's upcoming YOUTUBE SHOW. i expect all of you to be on your best behavior and do your best on this day."

as explained above, the girls will be assisting the NOVA members in making LUNCH BOXES for their seniors. do not worry, staff of the partnered cafe will also be present to supervise and assist the idols and trainees.

the participants will be divided in three teams, each in charge of different parts of the boxes:

SANDWICH & KIMBAP TEAM: seo minseo, yu milan, baek byeongkwan, kwon hyuntae, noh areum, yang aera

GRILLING TEAM: kim nayoung, watanabe miyu, kurosawa akio, xue yichen, park jaekyung, park taeha

SALAD & PLATING/PACKING TEAM: kwon sena, son nabi, han noeul, park seojin, cha sori

REQUIREMENTS

TOUR: write a 4 replies (minimum 8 lines) thread with another lgc girls japan member about anything that happened during the tour for +5 POINTS TO DISTRIBUTE ANYWHERE and +6 NOTORIETY !

DVD MENT: write a 300+ word solo of your muse being interviewed and asked about a memorable moment of the tour for +6 POINTS TO DISTRIBUTE ANYWHERE and +3 NOTORIETY ! these interviews will be included in the dvd release of the tour

FREESTYLE: write the 8 lines freestyle your muse performs during the tour (see the tour list for more details) for +6 LYRICS WRITING and +6 NOTORIETY !

OFF DAYS: write a 300+ word solo or a 4 replies (minimum 8 lines) thread with another lgc girls japan member about anything they've done during their off days +8 POINTS TO DISTRIBUTE ANYWHERE and +2 NOTORIETY !

LUNCH BOXES: write a 4 replies (minimum 8 lines) thread with another participant, ideally from your own team, about anything that could be caught by the camera for +6 POINTS TO DISTRIBUTE ANYWHERE and +3 NOTORIETY !

**concerning the lunch box threads: since there are a limited number of participants, please be mindful of the number of threads you take for this event, as you might block others from having partners if you take on more than one or two. also, the show is foused on the nova members, so threads between other participants might not make the final cut. finally, there's currently no air date for this or the lgc retreat, so do not mention any of it in your sns.**

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masterwords · 2 years

Text

barely balancing

Summary: 5 times Hotch didn't eat (for reasons) and one time he did. More or less.

Pairing: Hotch/Morgan (not in every story, but a few)

Warnings: food is central to the story, there is also some vomit, canon references to the chili incident in "Lucky", hospital, Foyet stabbing references, references to MCD (Emily's faked death)

Words: 5.6k

Notes: For @eldrai who requested this scenario and I'm so sorry it took me two months to come up with SOMETHING for you. <;3 "Five times Character A went hungry, plus one time Character B treated them to dinner." As is usually the case with me, this prompt is loosely interpreted at best. Anyway, it's dark in some places and soft and sad and sweet in others...it's all over the place really.

Read on AO3: barely balancing

(1)

A free Saturday afternoon is the real treat, but to make it even sweeter Hotch decided to take Jack out for a walk around the neighborhood. Balmy summer afternoons make him itch to be outside. It feels like the only time he gets to spend outside anymore is walking through disposal sites, and today he wants to be as far from that as he can.

His apartment, still in boxes, feels cramped and too small. He's got Jack for the evening, so he takes his son's little hand in his and they walk down the sidewalk with no real destination in mind. The park sounds nice, at least for a while, maybe they'll find a restaurant with outdoor seating before Haley comes and picks Jack up. Neither of them wants to be in his sad little apartment, Jack won't sleep there, he just cries for Haley. The divorce has been cruel to each of them.

When Jack whines that his apartment is boring, that's not really what he means but he doesn't have the right words to say what he actually wants to. It isn't mommy's house, that's what Jack really means and it's so new that Hotch means it too. He misses his house; he misses his family...coming home to people that love him. He's just doing his best not to think about things out of his control or he'll ruin the few good hours he has with his son.

The song of the ice cream truck makes Jack's heart race. He hears it in his neighborhood every day and sometimes Haley gives him a dollar and lets him run out to the sidewalk to get an ice cream sandwich. His sticky chocolate fingers and vanilla ice cream dribble are worth the trouble. The truck doesn't come through Hotch's neighborhood often, not a lot of kids, too many busy streets, but he'll park his truck in the parking lot at the park and sit with that music blaring for twenty minutes.

“You want to get something?” he asks, and Jack bounces up and down on the balls of his feet.

“Yeah yeah yeah!”

Hotch lets him pick anything he wants, and he's instantly drawn to a treat that is bright pink and laden with rock-solid bubble-gum spheres. It looks a little like off-brand Pink Panther, and Hotch can't help but wonder if kids these days even know who that is. It looks like a toothache on a stick. “One Pink Panther and one fudge pop.” He's hot and ice cream doesn't sound too bad; he hasn't had anything but coffee yet today. He doesn't eat much these days unless Jack is around, won't cook for just himself. He's not there yet. Dave tells him it'll get easier to be on his own, but he's never done that before, not really...he's living in this sort of stasis like he's on a case and his apartment is just another hotel room. The permanence of it hasn't set in yet.

Walking through the grass, he unwraps Jack's frozen treat for him before opening his own. It happens almost immediately. Jack takes the stick and gets one solid lick in before his attention is drawn to the squeal of the chains on the swing set. He turns his head and the toe of his shoe catches on a tree root, that's all it takes. Hotch watches the catastrophe in slow motion unable to do anything to stop it. Pink Panther is flying through the air as the boy lands on his hands and knees. He's okay, it's a small trip into thick, soft grass, but Jack's tears seem to fall before the ice cream even lands. And then it's all bright pink bubblegum flavored mess all over the grass. It starts melting right before his eyes. With a sigh, he looks at his own treat, barely even unwrapped and untouched. If he was being honest, he never really expected to eat it anyway.

“Jack?” he asks, crouching beside his sobbing son and placing one hand on the little boy's back. “Here buddy. Have mine.”

(2)

He can't eat on cases.

Of course, he understands that sometimes he has to. Living requires eating, he knows, so he'll find a vending machine and grab a bag of salty crunchy pretzels and a bottle of water. Just enough to get him through. But if he's at the police station, he's got to be on his game and eating makes him comfortable and tired. He finds it difficult to stay sharp...he enjoys good food too much. It doesn't seem to affect the rest of the team the way it does him. JJ and Derek will be on their game with pizza and soda in their hands, Dave can solve a whole case while eating a meatball sub, but Hotch runs better with only coffee fueling him. Something about his relationship to food just throws him off.

This case is no exception. Something about it is turning his stomach and he's barely even drinking coffee. He's existing on the calories provided by a handful of Tums chased by a gulp of Pepto Bismol. Derek and Dave are locked in a battle of wills over Derek's distrust of the church and he's one step shy of stepping in on Derek's behalf and making Dave back off...except Derek doesn't seem to want that.

Not yet, anyway. They're still figuring each other out. It's new.

“Derek,” Hotch says quietly when they have a second alone. There is something tense between them now and it's crushing him, he needs it to stop. “You don't have to talk to the pastor if you're uncomfortable with it. I can do it.”

“Naw, it's not like that...” he starts, searching Hotch's tired eyes for recognition. It's a power thing now. Derek can't let Rossi push him around, he can't let Rossi win. It's not about Hotch. “I got it. Thanks though.”

He's sick to his stomach by the time the search party is in the woods and the smell of the chili makes him feel worse. He's never liked chili with its greasy heavy meatiness, the bold spices, the thick beans that he used to tell Sean were beetles. That was mean of him, he knows it now (and he knew it then) but it's still funny. Sometimes he'll remind Sean of it over Thanksgiving dinner or in a birthday card.

“Hotch, you want a bowl?” JJ is holding a steaming styrofoam bowl of chili. It's almost tempting, it looks so warm, and his hands are blocks of ice. But he knows he'll end up sick in the restroom if he does, he's already on the verge, so he shakes his head.

“No thank you, JJ,” he says quietly, his hand absentmindedly fiddling with his tie and settling against his twisting stomach. He just wants to go home. He'd take a hotel bed, or even a shower. Not the woods, not a search party.

“I haven't seen you eat in two days.” She approaches him and offers him her bowl; she hasn't eaten any yet. She's practically pushing it at him. “You have to eat something.”

“I will.” He grabs a two pack of saltines from the table and puts them into his pocket, waving them at her to make sure she sees he's got them. He'll eat them later. With a shrug, she digs in while visiting with Derek and Emily who have their own bowls. Hotch wanders into the woods to get away from the smell and sends Sean a quick text with only a picture of a beetle he finds on a fallen log. Feels appropriate.

By the time they've solved this case, he won't just be thinking about beetles in his chili anymore. And if Sean ever finds out, he'll never hear the end of it. (Sean does find out via Derek later, and he makes everyone chili at their mother's house for Halloween. Hotch doesn't eat any. Derek...well...he's shockingly resilient.)

(3)

The ICU is cold, and shockingly quiet as visiting hours come to an end. It's usually a hub of commotion, patients coding or being carted in and out for surgery, but tonight there isn't much commotion. Not many patients. Derek is sitting beside Hotch arguing in hushed whispers with Emily about how to divide up the caseload with Hotch and Reid both out for who knows how long. He's barely awake, floating somewhere in a medicated stupor. Lashes flutter against his cheek as he tries to drag his eyes open, to tell them to stop arguing but he can't seem to claw his way to the surface. Derek knows how to do most of Hotch's job, he's filled in briefly before, and they'll just make Dave take on the real heavy lifting but Emily's drowning in consults and she doesn't want to take on Hotch's too.

“There's only three of us, Em,” Derek pleads. “You're gonna have to take on more. That's just how it is.”

“There are other teams, can't we give them some?”

"We will give them what we can, but there are some things we can't pass on."

Derek rolls his eyes at her stubbornness but the worst of it is that she's right. They're overloaded even with a full team, and it isn't like JJ and Garcia can do what they do. They're offering to do what they can, go above and beyond...Garcia can do some of JJ's job so JJ can help with some of their work, she knows enough to be dangerous.

They step out into the hall when the nurses come in to do their rounds, check Hotch's vitals. He's cold, his temperature has fallen in the last hour and they both know it isn't because the room is cold. They don't talk about that, but both of their attentions to that number and remember hearing the reason. It'll probably never leave them. “He lost a lot of blood,” the doctor had told them quietly. That was a no-brainer until it really sunk in what she was saying. “It's going to take some time.”

The nurse leaves a box of apple juice and a little container of red jell-o behind with stern instructions to Derek that he needs to get one of them down Hotch's throat, she doesn't care which one, or they'll have to start intervention. "I'll do what I can, but no promises...he's a stubborn ass..." he says that with love and the nurse nods, understanding that he means they'll need to start something in his IV. She's ready to make the order, walking away with little confidence.

“I can't watch that again,” Emily says, grabbing her purse. “I can't watch him cry over apple juice again.” She's got nerves of steel, but she's seen this man stare down the worst unsubs without flinching and how is she supposed to reconcile that with him throwing apple juice up into a little pink kidney shaped basin with tears in his eyes? She doesn't know him that well yet and this is a hell of a way to do it. Besides, Derek is better equipped, she figures. They have their reasons, and she isn't going to pry...but she can leave knowing Hotch is in good hands.

Derek offers her a sad smile and a nod. “I get it. Go get some sleep, we'll talk in the morning. I'll bring you coffee.”

“Make it a triple or I quit.”

Hotch is awake when he comes back into the room. “Hey you.”

“Emily...” he rasps through desert dry lips. His tongue feels like parchment paper. Licking his lips takes more effort than it's worth, there isn't any wet to share.

“I told her to go get some sleep. She's mean when she's tired.”

Hotch nods and his eyelids start to fall heavy again. “No, no, no not yet baby...” Derek whispers that last part and Hotch tries to open his eyes again. Tries to keep them open but they're too heavy. “They want you to try some more apple juice...or maybe some jell-o?”

Derek grabs for the jell-o first but Hotch shakes his head. Well, it's not really a shake, it's more of a twitch and he lets it fall to one side at least in as close to a shake as he can muster. “No,” he says, his fingers twitching at his sides. Derek nods. He's not going to push, not now. Any other time and he's the one shoving Hotch up against a wall and forcing him to make the right choice but he's out of his depths here, there is too much hurt and Hotch has lost too much autonomy as it is. He won't do that to him now. His vulnerability is painful for both of them. “Can't.”

“Okay. That's cool, I knew you'd be stingy about it being red. I'll eat it, I'm starving...how 'bout you just take one sip of that juice for me? One little sip to wet those beautiful lips for me? There's a kiss in it for you if you do...” He's not going to force Hotch to eat anything, but he's not above a little bribery.

Hotch tries, but it goes about as well as Derek expects, and he ends up holding that damn pink bucket with his hand on the back of Hotch's neck to keep him upright. “It's okay, it's okay,” he whispers, his voice changing tone from joking casual to worried and quiet. “We'll try again tomorrow. No worries baby. I'll kiss you anyway...”

He does, once Hotch is all cleaned up, because that was sort of mean of him to try and bribe a kiss out of someone who he knows can't control whether he can hold something down. Sometimes the jokes just don't land.

Another hit to the morphine button and Hotch is back asleep. They let Derek stay at night given the nature of Hotch's arrival at the hospital, the staff don't want to deal with Foyet should he decide to pop around to check on his project. The nurse brings him a few extra jell-o cups and a voucher for him to get breakfast at the cafeteria in the morning.

(4)

When Penelope brings in donuts, it usually means bad news. She's always trying to soften the blow. Another case, something bad coming down from Strauss or the Director, more work. Hotch knows, though, that this time it's because of Emily. They've all been struggling; she's been gone a week and they've been going through the motions. Her desk is still the way she left it. Not a single thing has been moved, not even one single pen. It's like a shrine, now.

But Penelope brings in a box of huge fluffy donuts and sets them right there on Emily's desk, daring everyone to come and really notice that she isn't there. Because it's breaking her heart the way everybody is just pretending things are normal.

Derek won't touch them. He won't even look at her desk. He's still too angry at himself for allowing it to happen so he avoids the whole area as often as possible. “Sorry, baby girl, I'm not hungry. I gotta get to the Academy.” It's a legitimate excuse, but beside the point. She's not happy with him and he doesn't seem to care.

Dave stops and visits with her. They talk about Emily with smiles and tears in their eyes, and Dave takes a maple bar happily. That's the fee, she figures. She'll perch herself in Emily's chair and make them all talk about her. Remember her and her smile and her laugh and how she always had the perfect sarcastic remark.

Hotch almost walks by. It isn't that he doesn't want to talk about Emily, he just doesn't want a donut. But he can see that Penelope just really really wants to talk about Emily, she grieves out loud, so he figures he'll stop and share a funny story or two. He tells her about the car ride with Emily his first morning back after Foyet. It's something dark that he figures he can lighten up. No one really talks about that time. “She was so bossy,” he says with a sad smile. It's hard for him to say was when he knows it's a lie, that she's still out there breathing, but he's trying to tread water here. “She put my seat belt on for me. Can you believe that? She even checked to make sure it was tight enough.”

Penelope has tears in her eyes. “She was such a mom...” That makes Hotch laugh. He's never thought of Emily that way. More like a wine aunt at best, but the way she treated him that morning was very motherly. He'll give Penelope that.

“She insisted on opening the car door for me, too.” Penelope blows her nose and lets out a sad chuckle.

“Why?”

He shrugs and takes the donut she hands him. Blueberry, his favorite. “Thank you Penelope.” He can't say more or it'll kill him, his chest already feels unbearably tight. The lie is suffocating him and it's only been a week. He passes through the breakroom with his donut, what he really needs is some coffee, and he finds Spencer standing there staring at the cream and sugar with a dazed look on his face.

“Reid?” he asks, coming up beside the other man. He wants to ask if Spencer is okay but that's a silly thing to ask right now of anyone who works on this floor. None of them are okay.

“You know, it's funny,” Spencer says without looking up. His voice sounds haunted. “I want to talk about her. I do. But it's just...it's...”

Hotch nods. “I know. You will, when you're ready.”

“Everyone else seems ready now. Look at Garcia out there, look at everyone exchanging stories for donuts...even you did it.” It's a little more pointed than he means it, but he doesn't take it back.

Hotch looks at the donut in his hand, at the napkin collecting flecks of sugary glaze, and his chest feels tighter. “Here,” he says, handing it to Spencer. A sad little peace offering.

“No, those are...I didn't earn it.” It's a funny way to put it, but Hotch supposes it's true. They come with a fee, and he paid his fee. But he doesn't want it and he knows how much Spencer loves sweets. He looks like he could use a little win. This isnt helping Hotch's guilt, it's making it worse, but he has no idea what to do. This entire situation is new and it's huge and he's going to drown he just knows it. The grief is painted on the walls and he can't escape it.

Right now, though, a donut will put a temporary stop to the bleeding.

“You're right, but I did. When you're ready to talk about her, come pay me back. Okay?”

Spencer smiles. It's weak and still unbearably sad, but he smiles anyway. “Thank you, Hotch.” Spencer loves blueberry donuts and Hotch wasn't hungry anyway.

(5)

Sitting in the backseat has never agreed with Hotch. His uncle used to throw him and all of his cousins into the bed of his pick-up and head up the mountain to collect firewood. Up the bumpy, winding logging roads he and his cousins would be thrown from one end to the other, struggling for something to hang onto before they flew right out. He hated it. Absolutely hated it. By the time they arrived at their destination he was bruised all over and throwing up over the side of the truck. No one else seemed to mind as much as he did.

And then there was his mother who drove too fast and yelled at everyone who got in her way while he slid around in the backseat. “You don't need a seat belt,” she'd say while he tried to find the second strap of the lap belt. It was usually hidden beneath the bench seat and his arm was not quite long enough to fish it out. “Just hold onto the door handle. We're not going far.” There were times he would just huddle himself up on the floor, tucked in so the sharp curves wouldn't fling him to the other side.

“Jason,” he calls from the back seat, desperate. He doesn't usually make noise from the back seat, figures they'll get where they're going before anything becomes an emergency but this drive is a little too long and too fast and too bumpy. “I need you to stop. Please.”

“We're almost there Hotch!” Jason isn't paying attention to the sudden gray wash over Hotch's face, but Derek is. He sees it even in the low light. “Can't stop now, we're in pursuit.”

They're not, at least not like that. They could afford the few seconds it would take for him to spill out of the car door and gag onto the shoulder of the road. Jason is just impatient, he doesn't want to chance it and under other circumstances Hotch wouldn't blame him but he's definitely going to be sick whether Jason stops the car or not.

“Please, Jason,” he pleads quietly.

“Two minutes, Hotch! Put your head between your knees!”

“Hey, uh...I don't think he's got two minutes, man...we are way past putting his head between his knees unless you just want him to ralph all over his shoes.” Derek finally chimes in, staring at Hotch in horror. He's pretty sure he's about to be puked on. It's gonna look like that scene in 'Stand By Me', he's pretty sure. Maybe 'Problem Child'. It's about to get gross. “Hotch, hey...” he puts his hand on Hotch's shoulder and is met with a look of pure desperation. Finally, after realizing that Jason is definitely not going to pull the car over, Derek shrugs out of his FBI windbreaker and hands it to Hotch. It's all he's got; they don't have anything else. “Use that.”

There isn't anything else Hotch can do. He presses his face into the jacket, into the smell of Derek that almost makes him feel better and creates a sort of barrier. It doesn't take long before he's losing everything he's eaten that day into the slick lining of Derek's coat. At least it's contained. Derek rolls down his window to let some fresh air into the car and Jason mutters something about two minutes again before doing the same. The officer in the front seat can't help letting out a small laugh before following suit. Soon the whole car is filled with wind and the smell of the mountain, and Hotch has his face buried miserably inside of Derek's soiled jacket.

It's dumped straight in a trashcan on the property when they pull up, there is no saving it. “Hotch, stay here. Keep an eye out.” That's Jason, always helpful. Ignore what happened and move on.

“I'm fine, Jason,” he says once his feet are on solid ground, but Jason won't hear his argument so he stays. The world is still all wobbly and he's definitely not fine but he will be soon. He keeps his gun in his hand while he breathes through the last of the nausea, and he listens to the sound of Derek making the arrest. He's not quiet. It echoes through the still mountain night, scatters the crickets and the birds in the trees nearby.

“Who wants pizza?” Jason asks, once they have their unsub in the police car and the three of them are on their own. “My treat.”

Hotch groans and Derek laughs at the sound of his misery. Derek is definitely in the mood for pizza and says so with a little too much excitement. He's always so full of adrenaline after a take down and it's usually contagious, Hotch can't help but feel his energy...except this time. He's still reeling, and he owes Derek a new jacket. All he wants to do is lay down.

“No, thank you,” Hotch says finally before swiping the keys from Gideon's hand. He's not messing around. He'd rather walk than sit in that backseat again. “But I am driving back.”

(+1)

Pakistan is hot.

Not just hot, it's fucking hot, excuse his French. And that's not really the problem as much as that it's also dry. He's exhausted, he's thirsty all the time, his skin is itchy beneath the beard he hasn't been able to shave and to top it all off...he's lonely.

Really lonely. The kind of lonely that he feels even when he's talking to another person. The problem is just that they're not his people. And yeah, that's kind of silly. Anyone can be his people and he's surrounded by a lot of really interesting sorts who have big stories to tell. Stories that can rival the things he's seen and that takes a lot. He's had to prove himself once or twice around a table full of men and beers during down time. He wasn't often the sort who felt the need, but here, it was almost necessary in order for them to take him seriously.

“Nine times?” one man asked, horrified. “In your own home?!”

That had about sealed it. He was worth listening to. But that wasn't how he wanted to gain their respect, so he tried day after day to give them other reasons. Up before dawn, working beside them, even in the trenches when they needed extras. They'd seen a man who would hole up in a tent with a computer and a phone and a certain level of self-importance, but what they got was a man who would come up alongside them and ask what they needed.

Unfortunately, that sort of work ethic that bordered on manic came at a price. He missed meals in order to help out, missed more in order to do his own job, and missed yet more in order to keep in touch with his family back home. By his rough estimate, he's slept about two and a half hours in the last 4 days. The sand is starting to warp and shape shift in front of his eyes. He feels like he's in an old timey movie and he's looking for some oasis in the desert but he's really about to start drinking sand in a mirage.

He's changed his clothes twice already today, sweating through the heavy cotton and dense canvas almost immediately.

These guys don't want to learn hostage negotiation, they don't want to learn interrogation tactics, they want to do something. They crave action. Hotch understands, he's a Field Agent, he loves to get in there. Hell, he's a menace with a rifle and more than a few of the guys had heard about him but that isn't what he's here for he has to tell them. He can't go out and fire weapons at empty barrels to kill the time. He's filling in for Strauss and she isn't that...she's a teacher, she's a suit who gives orders and that's what he has to be, too. He can empathize though, so he tries to make it interesting. All the while his thoughts are consumed with his team back home, Emily out in the world somewhere alone, Jack and Jessica and Derek. His family.

He's amassed most of those two (and some change) hours of sleep by burying his head in his arms at a table and setting an alarm on his phone for fifteen minutes. Just enough to shock his senses and piggy back it with coffee. Until he can't wake up. Until one of his students tells someone, and a doctor is waking him up with smelling salts like he'd passed out and telling him he needs to go back to his tent and sleep. In his bed.

And eat. They say that, too. They've been keeping track. “We keep logs of who eats and who doesn't at meal time. You'd be surprised how many people can't or won't take the time until they pass out...can't have that happening out there, Agent. Eat a meal and sleep for at least six hours. That's an order.”

The doctor outranks him, so he doesn't argue. But he stands in the walkway that leads between buildings and tents and to his exhausted eyes, everything looks identical and beige. He's lost. Utterly lost. In a place he's walked every square inch of over the last two months. He's finally got time to eat at a time that they're serving food, and even though it was 10am and they said there was chili (of all things) in the mess tent, he was actually willing. He hasn't been able to stomach chili in years, not since Dennis Feylin and Tracy Lambert, but he'd eat just about anything put in front of him right now.

Except he's just lost. He takes a step and stumbles a little, his legs are about to give out. All of the adrenaline from working nonstop is wearing off after his time in the medic's tent and he's about to crash hard, right there, in the sand.

“Agent Hotchner? Sir?” A young man approaches him from the side and he blinks himself back to some sort of reality. Something that feels wrong but looks right. He raises his chin and furrows his brow. He can always put on his best face. Hell, he profiled his own attack from a hospital bed once upon a time. This is easy.

“Yes?”

“A package for you, sir. Here. Are you lost?”

“No, I'm fine. Thank you for the package.”

Something in him clicks with the box in his hand, and his feet move without being told. Quickly, down the corridors between tents until he reaches his own. Immediately he falls onto his bed. It's not even graceful, he just collapses there staring at the package still in his lap and wondering with some uncertainty whether he has the strength to even open it. He almost decides not to until he sees the address label. He knows that handwriting. It's Derek, a care package probably from he and Jess and Jack. Sending it through official channels means it arrives sooner. His fingers tremble as he peels at the tape, tearing it off in long strips and wishing he had the steadiness to use his knife. He wouldn't chance that, not with the tremor in his hands.

A quick glance at his clock tells him he has to make this fast if he's going to get six hours of sleep. Inside is a huge bag of banana chips, his favorite peanut butter protein bars, freeze dried apples and raspberries, dried mango and raisins. And a pile of single serve oatmeal cups, no flavor, no sweetener, simply oats...just add water. All of his favorites.

He doesn't mean to cry, but he does. He's overjoyed, not just at the fact that he's holding food in his hands right now but that he doesn't have to leave his room. He doesn't have to eat chili. The streak continues.

He's got a bottle of water beside his bed and he doesn't even care that it isn't cold, he's going to drink it with a protein bar and some banana chips and he's going to love it more than anything he's ever eaten. He's that hungry.

And it's only 7pm back in Virginia, so while he tears into his sticky protein bar he waits for his laptop to boot up. It's not fast but where does he have to be? He's on ordered rest. He's got time to eat dinner with his family. They're having chicken pot pie, one of his favorites, and he would probably have killed for a bite of it...Jess cooks like a southern grandma, and that means everything is incredible and filling. Stick to your ribs stuff. He could live for a week on just one slice and he's salivating looking at it. Still, his meal suits him just fine. It's filling his belly and Jack and Derek are making him laugh while Jessica pokes at him about how thin he looks. “You look sick. I'm going to send you more food,” she insists and Derek winks at him playfully just out of her line of sight. She's a worrier, it's what she does, and Derek can see what she means but he doesn't want to make Hotch feel bad. He doesn't want to worry Jack. They'll deal with this when he's back home. Only a few more months.

“I still think you look good,” he says, leaning closer to the camera until his face takes up the whole screen. Until Hotch can see every pore in his perfectly clear skin. “The beard is a nice touch. I wanna scrattttch it." He wiggles his fingers in demonstration and Hotch smiles a little sheepishly.

“I don't have a razor,” Hotch replies quietly, popping another banana chip into his mouth. “It's itchy.” He doesn't have a lot of time, they have strict limits, but he's making the most of it just watching the chaos of his family around the dinner table and pretending he's right there with them. Tonight he is.

And by the time his limit has been reached, he feels full enough to get some real sleep. Six hours, alarm set.

#aaron hotchner #derek morgan #david rossi #penelope garcia #spencer reid #jason gideon #emily prentiss #jennifer jareau #hotchgan #criminal minds #fanfiction

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