#but every moment is made up of a million things all happening in a noisy cluster of situations all with their own ups and downs

[duckdotcom]

potentially controversial take but imo there really can be so much hope in the world

[soobadnoonecanstopher]

Touch it for Real, Part 8

Genre: Humor / Fluff / Angst / (Eventual) Smut 18+

Warnings: OMG they were roommates / slice of life / slow burn / mutual pining / crude humor / cursing / virgin!baek / idiots to lovers / unresolved sexual tension

Characters: Baekhyun X You/Female Reader

Description: You teach Baekhyun how to date. (Basically the Get You Alone M/V)

Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 3 , Part 4 , Part 5 , Part 6 , Part 7 , Part 8  , Part 9

Love was agony.

Sleep was an evasive bastard. When the power finally came back on you’d been shivering under your bed covers in complete silence for an hour— since you left his bed and his warmth.

If the dark silent cold in your bedroom didn’t kill you, you would have certainly died from sexual frustration.

And what could you do? You felt much too guilty to be able to chase a solo release at the thought of him like that, in the state that he had been in; drunk as he was and well out of control of his own body; when he very clearly hadn’t wanted to be doing what he was doing — with that heat and desire you felt him push between your parted thighs, so heavily influenced by the cold temperature of his body and by the alcohol in his blood that lowered every single inhibition he’d had in him.

The guilt came from just how badly you wanted to go back in there and take full advantage of what he had seemed to offer with his body; while his words protested at the very thought of a drunken mistake with you.

It would have been a mistake.

You rubbed your hands over your arms slowly; telling yourself again and again that you had done the right thing.

Eventually, when the lights came back on and the gentle hum of electronics that came to life in your home turned back on and brought your hazy mind back to reality; a light switch also flickered on inside of your mind and you felt the spell of the storm and the weak neediness that had bewitched you so completely, snuffed out.

He hadn’t wanted it. Not really; not like that and maybe even, not with you.

You felt ill.

Your body felt flushed and your limbs ached.

Your stomach churned and the back of your throat was dry.

The longer you laid awake in your bed the more your memory played tricks on you.

You began to see things you weren't sure had been there. A flash of lucidity in his eyes as he looked into yours. The purposeful action of his lips as he kissed the tips of your wandering fingertips and you were sure, you were sure he looked into your face seeing exactly who you were as he directed those kisses at you; they were for you.

You shook your head. This was a dangerous train of thought.

Perhaps a shower would help get rid of the flash-burned image of him down on his knees before your naked body with a look of definite longing in his eyes and a pulsing heaving in his chest as he feasted on the unobstructed view of all of you bare before him.

You wanted to cry. If not from confusion then from pure frustration.

You didn’t know what he wanted. It was making you crazy. Not the wacky & harmless, granola-eating kind of crazy, but the dangerous kind of crazy that made you want to run out of this shower right now with shampoo bubbles still in your hair; skin bare, wet, and dripping all over the wooden floors to demand answers from the man to questions you would never in a million years have the courage to ask him.

Questions like:

Did he want you as badly as you wanted him?

Did his chest also ache whenever he watched you silently from across the room?

Did he also want to spend the rest of his life making you laugh?

Did he love you? Did he love you? Did he love you and was it worth ruining everything for?

You weren't scared of the love. You’d been living with it for long enough to know you could handle it well enough. You could take it. You could push it down and withstand denying your own selfish pleasures if it meant you could stay by his side and support him in anything he wanted to do with his life.

You were scared of losing him. Losing this life you had with him, this amazing friendship and companionship you’d nurtured and enjoyed. You were scared of not being able to pay him back for all of the help he’d given you.

Yes, you relied on him for a lot. For too much. You’d kept detailed records of everything he’d ever paid for, for every single month of missed rent you owed him and even for the difference in what you’d originally agreed to pay to live here minus to what you’d finally bullied him into accepting when you finally found another job.

You felt a deep rooted apprehension inside of you. Something was changing and it was terrifying. You did not understand it and you could not just stand by and continue to live your life as you had been, taking so much from him and never giving back anything.

Maybe this was part of the reason you’d been so proactive about helping him with his anxiety about women. Maybe this was how you could pay him back. Whether or not things worked out with Mia, you were struck with the undeniable knowledge that you simply could not allow yourself to rely on this beautiful human being; to use him so willfully without any sort of regard for what was right and proper. Maybe what you both needed was something to even things out between you both. Maybe you could continue being his best friend and confidant and #1 supporter if you at least knew that if something did happen to develop between the two of you and things didn't end up working out you wouldn't be completely destitute and out on the street alone.

You’d been trying; since you started feeling the guilt about his generosity, you’d been saving as much as you could and as you checked your accounts you found that you actually had a pretty decent sized savings now. Much more actually than you even realized you’d have. Much more. You might even be able to settle your debts to him.

You couldn't help yourself, in the wee hours of the morning when you’d usually be stumbling half asleep into his bedroom to watch him — well you couldn't do that now, you absolutely could not face him yet — instead you browsed through various apartments and rentals in the area. Small units mostly. Nothing as wonderful as this place, but a single studio in a dorm style tower a few blocks away was surprisingly affordable. Sure you’d have to share a kitchen with other flat mates but honestly it didn't sound like the worst place to live and it was still close enough to his place that you could come over and see him any time you felt like.

Maybe if you kept things cordial with him after...after — maybe you could come over and wash your laundry on the weekends.

You printed the brochure for the building, feeling an odd peace wash over you at whatever might happen between you and Baekhyun now that you had a solid plan for the worst case scenario. It felt a little bit like taking out an insurance policy. You hoped nothing terrible would happen, but you wouldn't be caught unprepared if it did.

You would survive at least; whatever happened.

Whatever he wanted to do, or didn't want to do...whatever he felt in his heart when he looked at you and whatever emotions might be behind the confusing and heart fluttering moments that filled your most recent memories with him...anything could happen, right?

Maybe.

Maybe he felt the same as you did.

When you finally emerged from your room you heard the sounds of life in the kitchen. Baekhyun was up. Baekhyun was chopping vegetables and the steady clack clack clack on the wooden cutting board did not slow or stagger as you made your way into the kitchen.

“Morning, Peanut,” you called out as casually as you could manage and his eyes remained down on the several hundred tiny cubes of carrots he was working on. He had piles of them, not just orange in color but you saw white and green cubes, all identical size and shapes piled up on a tray next to his cutting board. It was an early morning frenzy.

“Morning, Bug,” he said softly amid the loud chopping sounds that nearly drowned his voice out entirely.  

“What are you making?” Your feet did not slow as you walked past him and you tried your absolute best to keep from looking too closely at the lovely curve of his spine that flowed into his long neck with his strong shoulders and arms with the obvious muscles that flexed with each noisy hit of the blade against the wood. The vegetables never stood a chance.

“Nobody’s favorite fried rice,” he said with a quick pause in chops to look at your face for a second. As quickly as he looked at you his eyes dropped back down to his work and he did not look at you again as you made your way to grab your brochure from the printer at the far end of the kitchen.

You quickly folded your sheet and stuck it in your pocket before he had a mind to notice and inquire about what you had printed. The last thing you wanted to do was explain your exit plan should the dramatic, whirlwind romance you’d planned for later turn sour and he kicked you out on the street with your suitcase full of overcoats in one hand and your Deluxe Toastmaster Supreme in the other.

You pulled open the fridge and removed the bottles of sauces he always used for fried rice, placing them on the countertop beside the stove, you then grabbed two eggs to fry for the top.

He would be done with his mountains of vegetables soon and maybe then he would look at you. Maybe he would soften out this odd roughness and smile at you like he usually did in the mornings. Maybe he would brush his warmth against where you stood and bump your elbow to his elbow as he cooked.

He didn’t though. When he was finished with the chopping he turned to the stove to begin frying everything up and even when you handed him the bowls to serve the rice he looked at you so sparingly and only when absolutely necessary for the purpose of handing you a bowl and not dropping it right on the floor at your feet.

You were staring at him.

He was avoiding you and you were beginning to feel a sting from it inside your chest.

He was seated across from you at the table and you’d watched him shovel bite after bite of rice into his mouth without looking up at you once since he’d started eating. He was eating fast. You’d expected some sort of choking sounds to happen, with as quickly as he shoveled and when the first scrapes of the metal spoon against the ceramic bowl sounded out you watched him struggle with barely held together lips and his cheeks stuffed absolutely full of food. He winced when he swallowed it all down.

He would get a stomachache from this. He would feel awful later for sure.

You’d eaten a few bites in the time it took him to finish and you began to bargain and beg with the heavens that he had just been ravenously hungry this morning and his scary silence had nothing to do with extreme regrets about what had nearly happened between you and him in his bed last night.

What he didn't want to happen; not drunk and not with you.

The sick hope you’d fooled yourself into encouraging all morning long was beginning to ache in your belly. You had to stop eating. You put your spoon down and drank water, hoping for the ache to just be some stuck food that needed some help going down.

“I’m sorry,” his voice broke through your swallowing and you looked up to find his face lifted up from the table at last and a glimpse of his brown eyes touched yours briefly before he closed them and inhaled a deep breath, “for how I acted last night...”

His eyes were down on the table again and his lips were still parted as if he had more to say. His mood had been so quiet and strange you didn't dare interject despite the screaming that was happening inside your head. You couldn’t make yourself speak. You could only shake your head back and forth. An impotent and useless no, no, no yelling out again and again inside your mind.

“I’m sorry and I promise I won’t ever do that again. I don't want you to misunderstand or feel uncomfortable in your own home because I acted like that.”

The yelling inside your head stopped. You were still staring at his face but your focus had drifted the longer you looked at him and listened to the words he was telling you; his apology that came out swiftly once he’d gotten started.

He…

He didn’t want that...with you. Your silly heart had run away with your mind.

You were right to stop it last night when you did. You were right to stop him from making a mistake that he would regret forever.

You lifted your water glass to drink and the liquid went down in a painful ball. You should have eaten your fill of breakfast when he was shoveling his down. If you had known this was coming…

The three bites would have to do.

You felt ill.

Baekhyun was looking at you; no he was staring at you and as desperate as you’d been for his attention all morning you couldn't help but scorn your own foolish desire for this attention now that you sat under the scrutiny of his watchful gaze.

Would he know? Would he see how closely you had come to ruining the friendship you both relied so heavily on?

“Baekhyun,” your voice sounded weak despite the incredible effort it took to speak right now, “you don't have to apologize. You didn’t do anything to be sorry for.”

He didn’t want...you. Not like that, it seemed.

The rejection burned. Your throat felt obstructed and you tried to swallow down the awkward lump. The realizations were coming back to you. The memory of your fresh-as-spring crush on him that hit you so easily when you first got to know him. The knowledge that nothing could come of it. The struggles you fought to push it down; to bury it deep so it would never see the light of day. And now, what? Look at what you had let happen. You felt so stupid.

“You know I would never do anything to hurt you, right?” His eyes were still on you but you had to look down. There was so much warmth in them as he looked at you, you could hardly stand to feel that incredible warmth that did absolutely nothing to help the lump in your throat go down.

Your silence stretched and you closed your eyes well into it. Your chest ached and your fingertips rubbed along the metal handle of your abandoned spoon.

You felt him then. The back of your hand was covered, coated by him and the heat of his soft skin made your eyes open and you looked down to see what you felt happening.

“LoveBug?” His slim fingertips moved over your hand, wrapping around your palm, encasing your hand with a firm purposeful grasp and you looked up into his face.

His eyes held many things. Concern, worry, and enough affection to warrant such deep emotions. The worry marred his pretty features and turned his smile down into a fierce pout. You saw a furrow in his brows and a tremble in his bottom lip. His eyes looked glassy and you felt an urge to combat this expression he had grown on his face because of you.  

You pushed again. Pushed it down, pushed it far away, grabbed every bit of disappointment and sadness, anguish and misery that had crested up inside of you and you shoved with all of your might.

For all of your efforts you managed a meager movement in your face.

A smile. It was a small smile, but you pushed it up to your eyes. You felt the tremble in your lips as you did it.

You would survive this. You could handle this much to spare him the pain of believing that he had caused you any harm.

You turned your hand over, pushing your own fingertips up and around his to grip his hand tightly and you pushed your smile to convincing widths.

“You forgive me?” His question was punctuated with the smallest melancholy grin on his face and a half blink of his eyes.

You nodded your head and reached for your spoon with your free hand to force down some more bites of your breakfast. “Of course...and always, Peanut,” you said between big bites, “there is nothing be forgiven for. But if it makes you feel better for me to say it, then, yes.”

You’d expected a relieved sigh. The crumbling of the tension that sat in his shoulders as he dropped his chin and let out a deep breath that he had been holding. You expected the brightness of his eyes and wide gorgeous smile to fill his pretty face.

Baekhyun sat across from the table and the tightness with which he held your hand did not lessen any bit. His lips had flattened and his eyebrows evened out; the disarming pout was long gone and his eyes stared into your eyes. The relief you’d been waiting for never manifested on his face.

You could not hold your cheerful smile forever. Surely that delicate bubble would settle any second now and pop. Still you worked through it, chewing your food and swallowing without tasting. Still you faked a happy face long enough for his thoughtful, careful observation of your face to pass and long enough for Baekhyun’s phone to buzz in his pocket.

“Hey, what’s your day like today?”

You’d been pounding a fist discretely over your chest, willing your breakfast to settle when he spoke up with his phone in his hand.

You shrugged lightly, “just work,” you said. It was the end of a work week and you had been slacking a lot lately. You knew you’d have a lot to get through before you were done today and unfortunately that meant it would take probably the entire 8 hours you would be billing them for.

“I kind of have a lot to do,” you added, feeling a bit of disappointed at the thought of missing out on whatever he needed your help with just because you had a stupid, yet real job to do.

“How much is a lot? Do you have time to help out a few of my friends? You know, like you’re helping me? They would pay you, of course.”

“You mean like...help them with dating?” You’d eaten all you could and your curiosity was thoroughly piqued. Maybe you could just rush through the day. Perhaps a sloppy half-assed job was better than an unfinished job.

Baekhyun nodded and stood when you did, grabbing the breakfast dishes and helping you clean up the table as he asked more questions about your workload for the day and then even more questions about what sorts of dating apps you needed access to and what kind of information you would need from his friends.

As you both got to talking he mentioned something about writing a program for you to quickly get your data entry tasks completed and out of the way, and then he was talking about another idea he had for an app to allow you to access your new client’s dating profiles, approve profile pictures, and provide them with study materials as you had done for him, monitor their progress and offer feedback as necessary. The more he talked, the more you began to grow excited about this. Was Baekhyun actually serious about making an app for you? Were you about to embark on an exciting new profession? Was this really something you could pull off?

The man was amazing.

After he’d spent all of 20 minutes creating what he called “a kind of boring, super basic cheat” which, yes, boring given the nature of the work, and upon hearing his confusing jumble of words explaining what he did, did not seem basic in any way at all, but did seem very, very cheaty. Your entire day’s work was reduced to a few clicks on some keys and you blinked as fields were populated on their own and you didn’t even have to worry about typos or sore wrists.

Honestly, after seeing first hand what he was capable of doing to help you through the work, you felt as if you’d been scammed for a whole year. You leaned back in your computer chair and threw your head back to complain.

“I can't believe you’ve been watching me suffer for a year and you could make something like this the whole time.”

Your complaints were met with an indifferent shrug from him.

“A little suffering never hurt anybody,” he said in an infuriating pompous monotone and you frowned in disgust at this sentiment of his.

The sight of your misery brought a wide smile to his face and you frowned even further.

“Besides, look at how fast you type now. What are you pulling, like 120-130 wpm and 99% accuracy? Ugh. It’s so goddamn sexy, Bug...”

You knew he was teasing you. You could see in the over the top lecherous look he shot you and you hated how easily you felt the blush rise up to your cheeks at his playful words.

He wasn’t even accurate about your stats. An urge to correct his misinformation surged and you leaned in closer to where he sat at your desk in the fancy gaming chair he’d wheeled across the apartment into your bedroom so he could work his magic in the ‘kind of comfort he deserved’ or so he said. You leaned in very close to him to set him straight.

“150 words and 99.8% accuracy, Peanut,” the smugness in your own voice coupled with the heat you felt lingering all over your body sent words out of your mouth an octave lower than you might have intended and the slight widening of his eyes as he took his focus off of whatever he’d been typing on your screen and looked into your eyes made your breath catch in your throat. You caught a tremble in his eyebrow, it bounced once above his eye and his nose scrunched lightly as he looked at your face and shook his head once.

“Shit, 150?” He mouthed and pulled his lips wide, baring his teeth. You grinned and bit down on your lip, the smallest nod of your head with a genuinely flirtatious slow blink of your eyes to answer his question.

What was wrong with you? Your heart was racing from the close proximity. You couldn’t help the way your eyes found his lips as he spoke. If this was anyone else other than Baekhyun you would have been sure he was flirting back.

“Girl of my fucking dreams,” Baekhyun said in a low tone and it took a second of him looking into your face for the playful smile he wore to flatten out entirely and for the rapid racing of your heartbeat to alert you that perhaps your own reaction might not be as inconspicuous as you thought.

Your triumphant smile had vanished and you ticked your head back as if your body was pulled by marionette strings being controlled by your overly cautious sense of self-preservation. You straightened your shoulders and spine and put some distance between your eyes and his pretty lips and you put some distance between both of your faces and the fading memory of the taste of his lips.

Your quick movement made him spring into action and he leaned away from you and turned to face the screen as if he’d just been caught doing something forbidden.

“Sorry,” he said and he cleared his throat and shook his head as he bit down on his bottom lip and lasered his focus on the lines of scary looking text you saw flying across the screen.

His ears were pink and he chewed on his lip and occasionally lifted his left hand to chew on his fingertip. Again and again your eyes zeroed in on his mouth. How could you get through working this closely with him on this project if you couldn't even manage to stop looking at his lips? You forced your focus away and found more interest in the rapid apology that flew out of his mouth just now.

Why would he be so quick to apologize? Weren’t you the one who had been flirting with him? Weren’t you the one sitting too close to him and looking at his lips as he said these playful things to you.

The longer you watched him in silence and more confused you felt about this entire thing. Last night — the look you saw in his eyes that really did not feel as if he’d lost control of himself due to the alcohol; even the night of the fake date and after everything, the way he stayed at your door long after the game was over just to pull you into his lips for a passionate goodnight kiss. A kiss that felt very real at the time.

Had that really all been in your head? Was this whole thing really one-sided?

Your thoughts raced about his behavior this morning and how strange it felt to see him draw that line and call it a drunken mistake. He felt like a riddle that you’d been trying to solve for too long and every time you thought you had come close to solving it, the clues would change and you’d be thrown right back to step one.

The mood quickly shifted as he began showing you samples screens of your new dating coach app.

You were amazed at how quickly it came together. Baekhyun said some nonsense about repurposing something he had already built last year but you still watched him with stars in your eyes like he was made of pure magic.

You had given your approvals on the visual designs and layouts of various functions and suggested the name First Base Coach.

He looked at you curiously when you’d suggested the name and after a second of thoughtful pause he opened a search window to look up detailed definitions of the different bases of dating.

“So first base would be kissing, and you’ll be helping up until they get to first base,” he said as he read out loud from the search results, “second base is manual stimulation, like...over the clothes stuff, uhh below the waist.”

“I think it’s called heavy petting,” you added and you listened to him with as passive an expression as you could force on your face. It wasn't that you were uncomfortable hearing him speak about these things. It was just hard to keep your mind from playing visuals as an example of the different things he read out loud. Unfortunately the visuals all seemed to involve him acting them out.

“Third base is oral sex, and uhhh...penetrative sex is a home run.” Baekhyun’s face was pink. You knew he wasn’t very comfortable talking so frankly about sex, but since you’d begun helping him with his love life you noticed he started to speak more freely with you about things like this.

It wasn’t helping your crush on him at all. You had enough daydreams already, you didn't need more plot points for them.

“Does that mean you and I have been to first base with each other?” His question took you off guard and your eyes were wide when you turned to look at him.

Was he seriously asking you this right now? After he said the words penetrative sex out loud with his own mouth?

“No,” you said on impulse and he closed his open mouth quickly as he looked back at the computer screen with a raised pointing finger.

“Kissing,” he said with fiery eyes and you shook your head.

“But we aren’t dating, so it doesn't count.” It felt so weak. You grasped at the flimsiest excuse and held on tight as hell and he was looking at you closely with a challenging squint in his eyes.

“So are you telling me, that because you and I aren’t dating, I could kiss you again right now and it still wouldn't be first base.”

Baekhyun was a logical man. He was an expert at making sense out of any situation and a side effect of his excellent logical brain was his ability to sniff out your bullshit from a mile away.

He also knew you well enough to know how stubborn you were when you were trying to prove your argument against him.

He watched your face for longer than you thought you could stand and when he finally turned away from you he was grabbing your cell phone and unlocking it, swiping a few times and plugging the thing into the cable that came out of the computer.

You quietly exhaled the breath that had stuck in your lungs so he wouldn't notice your struggle to breathe like a normal person.

He hadn’t said anything as he worked and you replayed his last statement again and again in your head, knowing that you hadn’t at all begun to answer him.

What was the big deal? So you’d been to first base with your roommate Byun Baekhyun who you were in love with and who was opening this line of questioning with you after rejecting the hell out of you this morning with his simpering apologies and excuses about drunken mistakes that would absolutely never happen again.

You grabbed the phone when he handed it to you and moved away from where he leaned back in his chair to sit on your bed.

“Try it out. Click everything. Try and break it,” he said in a flat voice.

You opened your sparkly new app and did as you were told. You clicked everywhere, opening and closing the different functions, impressed at how smooth and quickly everything seemed to be working. The app seemed to be compatible with a variety of different dating platforms and you wondered how in the world he pulled this off. It was intuitive and so easy to maneuver. He was looking down at his own phone as he typed and you saw a message pop up on your screen that said you had a new client.

It was Baekhyun’s dating profile that you now had access to and you could see the entire thing. More than just seeing it, you had editing powers and the ability to send or delete messages to his contacts. You could send him your own private messages as well and he’d even added a section with course materials and your very own grading system.

It was incredible. The man was the most incredible human being you’d ever known and he was just sitting here looking at you as you laid down on your bed with your phone in your face and an enormously proud smile taking you over completely.

You’d rolled over on your bed, turning away from him, fully engrossed in the content you had on your phone. You noticed that he had many, many unread messages from different girls and you scrolled through them catching the odd gem of a woman who, had it not been for your confidence in Mia, you might actually look into pursuing in his name. It had been a while since you’d looked through his matches and as you were drawn in you felt the bed beside you dip as the warmth of his body laying down beside you coated your back from head to toe.

He was behind you on your bed. Your smile faltered when you felt him there and his arm came into your line of sight as he reached a hand forward to touch the screen of your phone with his fingertips.

He was speaking, saying something about the features he’d added for photo editing and how he’d even put a video call function so you could connect with your clients face to face to discuss their dating goals and you would interview them to get a better idea of their personalities and what they might be looking for in a date.

He was talking shop. He was fully engrossed in the technical features he had packed into this app and his fingers had taken over the scrolling as you merely held the phone up so he could see the screen as he peaked over your shoulder.

You did your best to pay attention, hoping he wouldn't quiz you on this later because honestly his breath smelled nice and he was so close you’d just felt the softness of his cheek brush against your cheek and he was so soft and warm you had to close your eyes to deal with it. His arm was rested over your shoulder and you swore you could smell that cologne he had worn the night of the date.

You inhaled deeply and slowly, hoping the fragrance would linger for a long time in your nose for the entire time you kept breathing.

He’d said something. It was a question.

You had missed it.

You turned your head toward the sound of his voice and opened your eyes, feeling the movement in his face as he turned to look down at you and he pulled his face back enough so he could see you.

It wasn’t much, but he was very close and your head swam. You were blinking quickly, trying to get your mind to sharpen and remember what he had asked you but it was no use. His face was so close and his lips were pink and within kissing distance.

“Hmm?” You finally asked by way of a single questioning hum from the back of your throat and you caught the shift of his eyes over your face and the sound of him swallowing the moisture in his mouth.

“Am I making you uncomfortable?” His question was a whisper and you pulled your focus up from his lips to look into his soft brown eyes.

You shook your head back and forth. Despite the burning flames happening inside of your body you hated the idea of him moving and losing the warmth and connection you were feeling with him right now. Maybe it really had been too long since anyone had touched you. You felt like you needed this and maybe he did too.

“I don't want to make you uncomfortable,” he said and his jaw clenched down hard enough for the muscles to pop.

“No, this is nice,” you said and you leaned your head back against him, enjoying the resistance of having someone so solid at your back. “You feel so nice and warm.”

“So do you,” he replied after a while and you felt his exhaled breath warm the back of your neck. After a moment you felt the tension in his muscles give and he relaxed behind you as you relaxed your own body and let yourself lean against him.

You gave into it fully and let your eyes close sinking in the incredible comfort of him when your quiet calm was interrupted by a soft giggle from his chest.

His chest which was right up against your own so that his small laugh vibrated against your back and pulled you out of the peace.

“I cannot believe how stubborn you are,” he said and lifted his head. You could tell by the height that he was propped on his arm bent at the elbow and from the direction of his voice his head was just hovering above yours.

You shifted upon hearing the amusement on his voice and turned to look at him once more, angling your shoulders and your neck so you could see his face much more clearly.

His eyes followed your motion and he looked down at you. “Just admit it. You and I kissed, so that’s first base, Bug. Your argument is so flawed.”

This again. The man was as stubborn as he was brilliant. You rolled your eyes as a response and tried your best to keep the defeated smile from your lips.

“So by your, extremely flawed and fucking fake logic, if you and I slept together — sorry, I mean, if we had ‘penetrative sex,’ last night,” he lifted his free hand and made a single air quote with his fingers and you physically winced at the gross words he said out loud, “that would not have been a home run.”

You lifted a highly offended hand with a single finger raised.

“Okay. One —“ you listed in clear and concise pronunciation without a single bit of red hot embarrassment present on your tongue, “we would not have slept together—”

“Penetrative sex,” he said, interrupting you much too confidently and you choked down a laugh.

“And two: we aren’t dating each other. So the bases of dating do not apply to you and me.”

Baekhyun tossed his head back and let out a frustrated laugh into the air above him and when he returned there was absolutely no sign on his face that he bought what you were selling.

“Just say it’s first base, Bug. Just admit that you are wrong. It’s not like it even matters. These are inconsequential words here. I win.”

At this point who was right and who was wrong did not matter. Your most pressing problem right now was how very annoyed you were at the very idea of admitting that he was right.

You can admit that it wasn’t the smartest move you could have made. You hadn't even realized that you’d done it until halfway through when you closed the distance between your faces and when you felt the warm softness of his lips mold under your own, the immediate sensation was the sweet sinking of his lips as you pressed your own against them. You kissed him — your lips on his lips. Softness to softness. Warmth to warmth.

The second sensation was the surprised puff of air that came from his nose when he’d realized what you had done and yet the most satisfying sensation was the sound of his absolute stunned silence. That was unparalleled in this entire world.

You’d shut him up. That was for damn sure.

Your kiss was short. You pulled away nearly as soon as it happened and you pulled your eyes open with a smug smirk on your face and you tried your absolute best to ignore the deafening pounding of your heart that echoed against your eardrums.

“See,” you said, “not first base.” Your own eyebrow danced over your eye and his vision sharpened as he inhaled a new breath of air and he looked through his half closed eyelids down at you, not saying a word to declare you the victor in this silly argument that didn't mean a damn thing to the winner or the loser.

Your little victory was short lived. Baekhyun moved again; his hand first. You felt the tips of his thumb and index finger land just over your chin. You felt just enough pressure applied to grip your chin and move your face closer to his, just enough to tilt your face into his and the view of him blurred out of focus.

You felt too stunned to move or to say anything and your smile had certainly fallen. He was moving closer but before you felt anything you felt his thumb again, brushing lightly over the softness of your bottom lip. It was too much. You were too affected by this simple touch from his thumb that you gasped; call it surprise if you want, or a single breath of desire to be precise and your lips parted with the intake of air.  

He moved then and he lowered his face to kiss you. You felt his lips slip between your parted ones and you felt the suction of his mouth as his lips closed over yours and he pulled your bottom lip into his mouth. You were lost. You felt him move and you opened your mouth, letting him in; wanting him in. You felt his tongue brush along yours and the slight pressure as his teeth bit down before he pulled away and broke the wet contact.

With that one kiss you felt destroyed. His lips were still parted; hovering just over yours yet he did not move in to kiss you again as you craved so desperately. Instead you opened your eyes to find his eyes open and watching your face so closely. Your breathing felt too heavy, your chest visibly heaved up and down with the efforts and you felt the light tap of his index finger over your chin that he still gripped with his hand.

“Admit it,” his voice came out as a low husky groan and you could feel every warm puff of air from his lungs blow past your wet tongue. He tasted as good as he felt. “You and I have been to first base.”

“I thought I would only help up to first base, Baekhyun,” your own voice sounded so much more affected than you thought possible and yet you pushed the words out, trying to ignore the absolute chaos happening all over your body, “if we’ve been to first base then I guess you don't need me to help you on our double date tomorrow.”

“Do you really think you’re ready to do it alone?”

You were a coward. A stubborn coward with messed up priorities, but at least, at least reminding him about the date tomorrow got him to remove his hand from your chin and it got him to close his lips up and remember that his goal of this whole thing, what he really actually had taken this so seriously for, was Mia.

He’d only begun to give a damn about dating when he first chatted with her. He’d only really given it his all when he got to know her and found out that there could be someone out there who shared all of the same interests as him and who matched him in professional achievements, in intelligence, in skills, and in income as well.

If he thought he could be so reckless with his lips and his touches and so liberal with his rejections; that he would have the gall to call it first base with you while he was still pursuing her...you were burning alive at the thought.

“Well?” You prodded when he sat up on the bed and rotated to set his feet down on your floor.

“I mean, okay. Let’s say it’s first base...but that means you are done and I will stop helping you date girls, without ever even going out with Mia. I mean if you don't really want to go out with her, I guess I’ll just have to focus on helping my other clients now.”

“I forgot about the date,” his hands were fisted in front of his face and you could see the slow and careful tap of his fist against his parted lips as his unfocused eyes searched the room in front of him.

“Unless you just want to cancel it completely,” you’d said it softly. Flippantly. Hopefully. With an iron cage carefully placed over your heart, just in case his reaction was painful, “the date with Mia. I mean you don't really have to go if you don't want to. You don't have to go, Baekhyun.”

He was looking ahead as you talked and his hands did not stop the tapping as his mind was very obviously occupied with what was coming tomorrow.

You held your breath after you’d put the idea out there. The idea that he didn’t really have to go out with her. The idea that maybe, maybe what he was looking for wasn't really out there at all.

“No, I’ll go.” He said the words so easily. As easily as he’d kissed you minutes earlier.

The words ripped at your throat and made your chest burn.

“I’ll go out with her. I want to. I think it— it would be good for me.”

You sat up on your bed and curled your legs up, wrapping your arms around your bent up knees and you rested your chin over the top of them. You hated being right about this. She would be good for him. He knew it, and you knew it. She wouldn't be a drain on his talents. She would make her own career launching apps. Not nearly as good as his but still. You couldn't even come close.

“You win,” he looked into your eyes and he lied to you; you hadn’t won anything at all. “It wasn’t first base because you and I aren’t dating each other. I guess last night too...would have been just…”

A mistake. 

You heard and you understood the undertones. Last night, sleeping with you, would have been a mistake. He didn’t want you to stop helping him because that was his goal. Dating someone else was his goal.

He inhaled a deep breath and used the energy built to push his legs up into a standing position and you watched him walk across your room toward your bedroom door.

At the door he paused and turned back to look at you.

“No, I guess it wouldn’t have been anything because it wouldn't have happened at all. You’re stronger than I am, Bug.” You hadn’t quite expected the pause and you’d already let your smile falter and slip.

You didn’t feel strong at all. When he looked at you, you hoped he didn't notice how useless and dumb you felt inside. You felt like a fraud.

“Thank you again...for helping me,” he said with a soft smile on his lips before lifting a finger to point at the phone abandoned on the bed beside you. His finger seemed to have a slight tremor as he lifted it but he steadied out some when he furrowed his eyebrows in your direction. “You’ll get some new clients tonight. I’m sending them the app. Don't be nervous, you’re so good at this.”

He turned to leave the room again, quickly adding one more thing before he was gone.

“But don't date any of them either. They’re all fucking idiots.”

He left your room and you felt the chill of his absence all the way down to your bones as soon as the door clicked closed behind him.

Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 3 , Part 4 , Part 5 , Part 6 , Part 7 , Part 8  , Part 9

Tag list: @j-pping  @blahblahblah-boo  @his-mochi-cheeks  @amyeonzing@littleflowercrown13  @baekinmylife  @insta1010  @nana-banana  @f4ncyvelvet@bbhbeth  @totallynerdstuff  @byunbabybaek @maijinki @bbyunz@theclawofaraven @kingkushdealer  @uhobob @baekswifey​ 

[my-writings-and-musings]

Could you do Drift and Ravage for the oxygen loss prompt?

I absolutely can do Ravage, our dear kitty deserves the love! Drift can be found in part six below!

Part One: Here!

Part Two: Here!

Part Three: Here!

Part Four: Here!

Part Five: Here!

Part Six: Here!

Part Seven: Here!

Part Eight: Here!

Part Nine: Here!

Part Ten: Here!

Part Eleven: Here!

Part Twelve: Here!

Part Thirteen: You're Here!

Ravage

·The tale of how you even became friends with the reclusive and understandably untrusting felicon is as long as it is convoluted, but a good synopsis is that the two of you simply get one another. It doesn't hurt that you always gave him ample personal space and respected his boundaries, and the fact you don't mind meeting up in the vents is a plus for him. Bots are absolutely baffled by your relationship, so avoiding public spaces has become his preferred activity to enjoy with you, if only to be free of the gossip. Equally eager to have peace and quiet, you'd long since found ways to make his favorite spots in the vents into ideal hangouts.

·Unfortunately, today is one of the rare days he has to be away from your side and amongst the crew. On the Bridge there's some kind of trouble, requiring all the commanding officers to be present while it's sorted out, and he refuses to leave Megatron there alone. Primus knows his old friend gets blamed for everything that goes wrong eventually... Yet he's far from focused as the diagnostic scans reveal a confounding bug in the ship's programming. As worrying as it should be, his thoughts drift repeatedly to you, and how much he'd rather be somewhere far less open and bright. Hopefully this will all end soon, and the two of you can curl up somewhere to relax, with his larger body naturally fitting around yours as if made to do so...

·A teasing look from Megatron makes him realize he had allowed his dreamy thoughts to color his face with a ridiculous expression of lovestruck bliss. Pinning back his ears and flushing hot as a star, he can only be grateful no one else seemed to notice. Just as he's debating whether or not to sneak away, there's a commotion amongst the more tech savvy bots. They claim to have found the source of the programming bug; which isn't a bug at all, but a virus. Claws fully unsheathing in preparation for combat, his sense of dread grows exponentially as he puts together what is being said, realizing that something very bad is moments away. Lights flicker in confirmation of his fear. In moments the ship is flashing out a hundred or so alarms, signaling that it is more or less helpless against whatever may happen next.

·You're the first thing he thinks about as countless terrible scenarios begin to play in his mind. Between his hypersensitive hearing and smell he's nearly choked on the panic and fear growing through the Lost Light, but all he wants to focus on is you. A human has precious little in the way of defense, and with every system keeping the ship stable, there's nothing to protect you. The solution is obvious; he has to find you before something else does. When the ground quakes and an incoming transmission threatens the crew he doesn't stick around to hear the enemy gloat. A brief explanation to Megatron is all he offers before taking off, and though he doesn't stick around to see it, his old friend gives him a nod of understanding.

·Distant sounds of metallic warping and the scent of soldering tell him the ship is being breached, but also make it incredibly difficult to pinpoint your location. He's memorized every identifiable feature of yours for moments like this, but the chaos turns the air into a smog of panic, so that it's only the uniqueness of your scent that allows him to find a trail. Faster than most vehicle modes and far more limber, he's an unstoppable blur through the hallways. A path to your shared quarters forms effortlessly in his mind as he passes down the levels.

·Far from your partner, you're still recovering from the bang that shook the entire room you'd been so comfortably set up in. Dazed on the ground, you get your feet beneath you before thoughts return, and the first one is for Ravage. Unfamiliar with space travel, you feel compelled to fear the worst; what if he was too close to whatever just went wrong? Capable as he is, the Felicon isn't immortal. Dead communication lines cement the need for worry in your dizzy head. Careless to the considerable tumble you just endured, you try to think of the best possible response for both your sakes. If he's able to so much as crawl, Ravage will be headed for you, so the best thing to do is make yourself as easy to find as possible. Shallow as that plan may be, it's at least a starting point, and you won't have to go far.

·A trail of claw marks through the hallways marks a tireless and acrobatic flight of barely disguised panic. Ravage takes every possible vent into his olfactory receptors for even the tiniest whiff of you. It's a scent he falls asleep with every night, the familiar yet so unusual mammalian musk soothing him as he curled about your tiny body... Now he's panicking over every tiny whiff, if only because he can't tell if you're really okay. Foreign smells tell of an encroaching enemy spilling into the Lost Light, and from the overpowering rush it appears their numbers are considerable. Some even appear to be moving through the lower levels just a floor or two below... Hulking footsteps that are not Cybertronian register in his sensitive ears, moving with such little grace he can feel them through the floor in his perceptive paws. Anger helps him swallow down some fear. If they want to get between him and his partner, then it's their death wish.

·Finding little to be working reliably, you open the door to your room just wide enough to let you through only after multiple attempts prove unsuccessful. A lifeless but somehow noisy hallway greets you. The sounds of combat are close, or at least, you presume what you're hearing to be combat. Perhaps you hit your head harder than you thought, because thinking through what's going on is far more difficult than it should be. Holding onto the wall for support, you try desperately to think of a plan. Ravage could be anywhere, and with no way to reach him, it's impossible to plan a meet up or even attempt to learn of his status. Yet... these dire thoughts don't invoke the panic they should. It's growing impossible to even stand on your own, and without meaning to you start to lean more of your body against the wall...

·Ravage inevitably is faced with a foe he cannot evade, and for your sake, he charges forward. There's a group of them, all gathered in the only hallway that will take him quickly to your location. He can feel the heat of energy weapons simmering in the air by the time he's upon them. With the element of surprise he's able to unleash incredible damage in his first attack, claws and fangs tearing through protective armor to kill one and severely wound another before they even realize they're being attacked. Bounding between their hulking forms, he faces the one disadvantage he's always endured through combat; his enemies far outscale him. Though his need to protect as well as survive turns him into a living blender, a well placed and simply lucky strike makes painful contact with his back, cracking the armor and bringing forth a spattering of energon.

·Recovering with the aid of his own anger to fuel the final attacks, he fights on with the wound agonizing him all the while, sinking his fangs in deep to take care of the final enemy. It isn't until the last body thunders to the floor that his legs temporarily give way. He's in need of medical attention, but he doesn't dare slow down, or even get a moment of rest. Shaking legs push defiantly to get him upright, and for once he's able to be grateful to have four. The ragged pace he resumes with is only as fast as it is because he knows he's close, as your scent is now clear despite the warring smells of blood and a million other unpleasant odors. Even if all he can do is collapse by your side and keep you company, it will be enough...

·Time seems to stand still when he sees you slumped over by the doorway to the room you two share. Though you're without injuries and the iron rich smell of human blood is undetectable, he knows something is very wrong, and though every motion hurts he bounds to your side. Crying out your name, he gently nudges you with a careful muzzle. Warmth and the rythym of your heart quell his greatest fears just before you open your eyes. Not quite awake, you can only be relieved to see him again, far too out of it to be afraid. At his insistence to move you express a desire to rest instead. No amount of encouragement can seem to make you realize the danger, and thus he's forced to make the decision to move you himself, even if he's in bad shape himself. Clearly, you need more help than he can give.

·You go along as best you can when he insists you ride on his back, and it's only your considerable experience doing so in the past that makes it possible now. He tries to think through the pain, but has little luck imagining what could possibly have done this to you, and his efforts to do so are hampered further as he begins to limp forward. Between energon loss and exhaustion and fear he knows things are looking grim. It tears at him more aggressively than any wound ever could, particularly as he feels you growing weaker against him, and all he can do is beg for you to hold on. You want to, but with his body so close and the rocking of his steps, how can you resist the urge to sleep? Surely everything will be fine when you wake... It's too much for him to endure when you slip into unconsciousness, and his legs give out beneath him. Failure burns in his spark as he tries in vain to keep going, his inability to save you haunting his exhausted body as footsteps draw near.

·It's by fortune he has rarely experienced that you're happened upon by a group of bots led by Megatron. He forces himself to stay awake for your sake, refusing to let anyone separate you so long as you need care. The blur of the medical bay brings comfort only briefly, as when he's informed of the reason behind your struggle he's nearly torn apart by guilt. Seeing you with your oxygen mask confirms his failure to protect the one he holds dearest to his spark. Withdrawing from the world, he allows himself to be patched up before curling himself around your tiny body, all but shielding you from the universe so intent on hurting you both.

·The warmth of his frame so frequently is your first sensation upon waking that you don't realize something is off at first. It isn't until you feel the mask on your face that you remember what happened, but by then Ravage is gently tapping his muzzle against you to confirm everything feels alright. Without promoting, he gives a quick rundown of what led up to this moment. You're wide eyed as he explains the ship's atmospheric shutdown, particularly when he gets to the part where he tried to carry you to safety... The apathy as he recounts it all, however, is far from fitting. Laying a gentle hand on a paw, you ask if something happened that bothered him, and receive confirmation from his silent expression of sadness.

·Initially, he can't bring himself to say what's wrong. On the surface he knows his actions were reasonable, but in his spark... he's so afraid of how his own inability to save you nearly resulted in tragedy. Just the thought of losing you is terrifying enough, but having nearly faced it has rocked him to his core, and he sits in silence under the weight of those emotions. Mercifully, you can read him well enough to not need words. Ravage has always withdrawn when upset, and few things agonize him more than failure.

·Gently as you can, you encourage him to come close, pulling his helm as near to your lap as possible. The sadness in his optics nearly breaks your heart, but you're confident as you speak, thanking him for what he did to save you and insisting you wouldn't be here without him. When he briefly tries to protest, you point out that he likely wouldn't be injured had it not been for you, and he quickly replies that you're worth any scars. When you retort that you feel the same way about him, a small amount of weight appears to leave his shoulders. He recalls that the best part of loving you has always been the freedom to exist as he is, free of pressure, and that he can't be a failure in your eyes so long as he tries. It's simply easy to forget that sometimes... Allowing himself a purr, he uses his tail to most effectively wrap you in his protective body, intent on keeping the both of you safe and warm for some much needed rest. So long as you have each other, there's nothing that can't be overcome.

[katelyn--renee]

Composure

Title: Composure

Fandom: Supernatural

Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Reader/(Y/N) Winchester (mentioned), Harper Winchester (OC, mentioned), Daniel Winchester (OC, mentioned), Crowley (mentioned)

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Wife!Reader

Words: ±2670

Description: Dean and (Y/N) take their shot at a normal life and settle down. Over the years, they have a few kids. Things are good. Until they’re not. What will Dean do when his past comes back to put an end to his happily ever after?

Written For: @deanwanddamons ​ 2K Celebration! Congratulations babe! That’s awesome! My prompt will be in bold -  “Just when I thought I was out, they pull me back in.”

Warnings: ANGST! Descriptions of blood. Mentions of breaking and entering. Kidnaping. Show level violence/outbursts of anger. 

Author’s Note: This is in correlation with another fic of mine, Sweet Cherry Pie. It takes place about twelve to thirteen years after that one, to give you a brief timeline. There will be other fics with that original storyline, so stay tuned.

Thank you so much to @wonder-cole​ for being my beta for this wonderful piece and helping me with the title. You’re awesome and much appreciated! She has some amazing work of her own, so please do yourself a favor and check it out! Check out @talesmaniac89​ for more awesome page dividers!!

Disclaimer: I do not own any photos or gifs, all rights go to original creators/owners.

Interested in more of my work, check out the link below.

Masterlist

The rain was heavy tonight, thick and angry as it poured from the dark clouds above. The fat raindrops were noisy against the single paned windows. The water coated the glass surface and made it impossible to see through, even as the flashes of lightning lit up the night sky and cast long shadows through the living room of 35 Maplewood Road. There was a heaviness surrounding the house, as if something wicked had been there.

The home was dark and empty, and the furniture was overturned and broken in places; the sofa was thrown over backwards, the cushions laying discarded across the floor with the end table toppled over beside it. The lamp that had occupied its surface was shattered to pieces on the wooden floor, and the rug had been stained with something dark and red. 

The coffee table was shoved out of place, the glass surface no longer there in one piece and the mirror that hung in the hallway had a spider web like crack across the surface, hanging now only by one screw. In the very center of the crack, something crimson and shiny caught the lighting from outside, almost as if someone’s skull had been smashed there.

The familiar idling of Baby’s engine grew louder as Dean pulled in the driveway of his home, the brakes squealing as he came to a stop and put the Chevy into park. A feeling of dread began to knot into his stomach, making the muscles of his jaw flex as he tried to bite back the feeling. Something was wrong; all those years of hunting and honing his instincts told him that much. Not a single light was on inside of the home and yet, (Y/N)’s car was parked out front. Not good.

Dean fished his phone from his jacket and swiftly unlocked the screen with a swipe of his thumb across the glass, dialing the number he knew so well. Pressing the receiver to his ear, he waited while the call rang out once... twice… “Come on, (Y/N/N).” He muttered under his breath as the fifth tone sounded. Her voice greeted his ear, but it was artificial; the recording of her voicemail, Hi, you’ve reached (Y/N)... 

“Damn it.” He cursed between gritted teeth and ended the call. He tried again, pressing redial. “Come on, baby, answer your damn phone!” He shut his eyes when he got the same results as before, cursing to himself as he shoved the device back into his pocket.

Never taking his eyes off the front of the house, he leaned over for the glove box and swiftly unlatched the compartment door, just as he’d done a million times before. Green eyes continued to scan for any signs of movement, even through the thick wall of rain that coated the windshield, despite the efforts of the wiper blades. 

Reaching a steady hand inside, he pulled out a pocket sized flashlight and his beloved stainless steel Colt, the engraving on the barrel catching the lightning as it bolted across the sky. Expertly, he removed the clip with a press of his thumb and double checked the bullets inside before sliding it back into the place, securing it with another click. It’d been years since he’d held the weapon, but the pearl coated handle felt just as natural as breathing against his palm.

Leaving the Impala’s engine running, Dean climbed out from behind the wheel and shut the door, the hinges creaking with age. Clicking on the flashlight, he approached the home with long, yet cautious strides, his booted feet silent in his approach, even through the heavy rain. 

His mind was racing with every terrible possibility, his guilt threatening to eat him alive as images of his family, in the worst possible outcome, flashed before his eyes. It made his blood run cold. His heart was pounding rapidly with fear, pushing the adrenaline through his veins and forcing him to move forward rather than let the panic overwhelm him.

He tried to peer inside the living room through the set of windows lining the front of the house, but it did little to ease his uncertainty; if anything, it only made it worse, only able to make out long shadows and dark shapes. His clothes were completely soaked through, hugging his large frame by the time he’d reached the front porch, the coolness of the rain chilling him to the bone. Droplets of water dripped down his face and the tip of his nose, and his hair clung against his forehead.

Approaching the large red door, his scowl only deepened, darkening his features when he discovered that it had been left unlatched, allowing in a single beam of light with each flash from the storm overhead. He glared at the lock and then narrowed his eyes as something caught his attention, the muscles there twitching. Stretching a hand out, he examined the wooden surface, his fingertips grazing over the chipped paint and splintered wood. Someone had broken in.

Taking only a moment to compose himself, Dean exhaled slowly and swallowed back his apprehension, forcing himself to go on. Using the weight of his body, he nudged the door open cautiously and poked his head inside. The experienced hunter kept his gun aimed high and at the ready, his finger hovering over the trigger. Wrist over wrist, Dean held the flashlight steady with the opposite hand, the beam unmoving, providing him with some light through the darkness.

All of those years of training were put to the test as he stepped through the threshold of his home, his expression as hard as stone and giving away absolutely nothing, despite the fear that was boiling just beneath the surface. His eyes darted around the room, following the beam of his flashlight, taking in every detail of his surroundings just as he’d been taught all those years ago.

Following the layout of the house, Dean came to the living room first, stepping over the broken furniture and discarded decorations. The sight of his home in this state made him uneasy and that much harder to keep his cool, able to sense the panic starting to creep in. Where was (Y/N)? Where were the kids? Who had done this to his family? Was it revenge?

Another flash of lightning caused something slick and shiny to catch his eye, and Dean let out a shaky breath. Hesitating for only a moment, he crossed the room and crouched down next to the sofa to investigate, the troubling sight seized his heart. There was a substantial amount of blood there, a large pool of crimson that had soaked into the fibers of the rug. 

Near the top of the stain, a gold chain necklace was lost within the mess and a thin layer of another substance was scattered around it. It was almost yellow in color and had a very distinct, very specific scent that accompanied it. Touching the surface of the floor next to the stain, Dean felt something grainy under his finger tips. Lifting it to his nose, the smell of sulfur invaded his senses. Demons.

“Fuck,” He cursed, the boom of the thunder shaking his house as it lit up his face simultaneously. Still crouched, he plucked the necklace out of the sticky crimson mess and glared at the amulet with a heavy gaze, his hand shaking. He shut his eyes and closed his fingers into a fist, the knuckles turning white around the piece of jewelry. It belonged to (Y/N). It had been a gift, a charm to ward off evil and prevent possession.

This was all his fault. He should have known better. Hell, he did know better and yet, he ignored it, because he had a chance to finally be happy. To have an actual family and live the normal, apple pie life he’d always wanted. And now the ones he loved were missing and more than likely dead. Or probably close to it.

His chin quivered for a moment and hot tears stung at the corners of his eyes, his emotions getting the better of him. How could he let this happen? How could he be so stupid and reckless? He knew better, damn it! Once a hunter, always a hunter. There is no getting out of the life, not entirely, because those evil sons-of-bitches will always be out there. 

One way or another, they always find a way to catch back up to any hunter who has tried, and every single time it ends bloody and messy and violent. He needed to find them, he just had to. And he would save them, no matter what it cost. He’d pay it.

Releasing a heavy breath, he opened his eyes and willed the tears away, shoving the emotions back down into the pit of his soul. Despite his efforts, a solitary tear made it’s escape, dripping down his left cheek and onto the color of his shirt before he could stop it.

Dean rose to his full height and squared his shoulders, prepared to continue his search. Sliding the necklace into his jacket pocket with care, he followed the trail into the hall with a heavy heart. 

Glass cracked and snapped under his boots as he walked through the space, his jaw flexing when he saw the picture of his family shattered on the floor. Their happy faces only added to his grieving heart and guilty conscious, their smiles making his soul ache.

That had been a good day, nearly five years ago now; (Y/N) had worn his favorite blue dress that day, the strapless one that stopped right above her knees and showed off her sexy legs. 

She had on that silly - but achingly cute - oversized tan hat that kept the sun from her eyes. He would always tease her about that goofy hat, but she never cared what others thought of her, never ceasing to be herself, no matter what.

They’d gone to the park that day, had an actual picnic and he’d played catch with his son while the girls giggled and painted their nails...  They even taught the twins how to ride their bikes that day. They couldn’t have been more than seven years old.

Harper had caught on much quicker than her brother, of course, taking after her mother in that way. Those girls were naturals at almost everything they did, only needing to try something a few times before perfecting it. That had been something he’d adored and admired about his wife and it was a huge part of what made her such a skilled hunter when they met.

Daniel, on the other hand, had to take the time to understand how something worked first. He needed to study the mechanics of things, take them apart, rebuild and understand it completely, inside and out, before he was able to master it. Danny often reminded Dean of the Winchester side of the family. That had been a good day, one of many they’d shared together.

Brought out of his memories by another angry boom from outside, Dean pressed on. Where the picture had once hung, there was a bloody handprint smeared on the white wall, the two colors contrasting greatly. 

The blood streaked out toward the kitchen, giving the hunter a clear path to follow. Damn it. Dean grit his teeth. It felt as if something had his heart in a vice, squeezing it tighter and making it increasingly difficult to breathe the further he went.

His emotions were threatening to break through the surface again, fighting hard against his resolve, but he held his ground against them, purely focused on finding his loved ones. Now was not the time to break down. Following the trail of blood and debris, he checked each room along the way, trying to be as thorough as possible. He couldn’t afford to miss a damn thing. 

Their bedrooms were empty, and unsurprisingly, every inch had been torn apart. Dean’s chest heaved with emotion, his breath hitching in his throat; if anything happened to those kids, he would never be able to forgive himself.

Continuing on, the hunter emerged into the next room, and found much of the same; broken furniture, shattered pictures and even more blood. But not a single sign of his family. The sliding glass door had been left open, allowing the rain from the storm to collect onto the tile floor. 

Dean shut his eyes and took several deep breaths, his chest aching with every forceful beat of his heart. He needed to call Sammy, needed to form a plan. When he opened his eyes, something on the countertop caught his eye; a sheet of paper. Cocking his head with curiosity, he crossed the room in three long, determined strides.

It was a note, addressed to him.

It’s been too long, darling. How’s Moose? Hope the wife and kids are well...oh, wait, that’s right, you’re as clueless as ever. No surprise there. Before we get to the fun bits, let’s talk business; I need a favor and you and your giant of a brother are going to help me. Now, to ensure that things go as planned, I have something of yours. I assure you, they are safe. For now. Do as I ask, and they will be returned to you, alive. So, Dean, dear, let’s make a deal, shall we? You know where to meet me.

Squirrel,

Yours truly, 

The King of Hell

“Crowley.” Dean growled deep in his chest, his teeth clenched as his blood began to boil over with rage. “Goddamn it!” He shouted, swiping the contents of the counter onto the floor. “Fuck!” He kicked something across the room, too angry to pay much attention to it as it slammed into the stainless steel refrigerator. He swung at the closest surface, his fist connecting with a nearby wall.

The drywall collapsed around his fist as the plaster fell to the floor at his feet. His knuckles were screaming at him, but he didn’t care, too fueled by his rage to notice. What could Crowley possibly need their help with? It didn’t matter. Whatever it was, they would get it done and save his family. Crowley would get what’s coming to him; Dean would make damn sure of that.

Taking a few calming breaths, Dean removed his phone with a bloodied hand and opened his contacts, scrolling through the names until he found what he was searching for. Sammy. Dialing the number, Dean held the phone to his ear with baited breath. After the third ring, Sam’s voice came in through the other end, sounding concerned because of the late hour, “Dean? Everything alright?”

Dean shook his head, his vision blurring with tears. He cleared his throat, trying to prevent it from shaking too much. “No, Sammy. It ain’t alright.” He admitted, gripping the counter with his free hand, bracing himself. He wanted to crumble onto the floor, his body trembling; his mind flooded with so many different emotions, each of them trying to overpower the other: fear, guilt, anger, heartache…

“Dean, what is it?” The younger Winchester questioned, the worry evident in his voice. “Is it (Y/N)? The kids? Is everyone okay?” He waited patiently on the other end, but Dean could hear him moving around; he assumed his brother was getting his things ready to head out.

“Damn it, Sammy,” Dean’s voice broke as a few tears slipped through the cracks, “Just when I thought I was out, they pull me back in.” He shook his head, allowing himself a moment to break, his chest heaving. “We were out!” He slammed his fist down onto the counter, terrified and angry.

“Dean, what’s going on?” Sam pleaded, wanting desperately to help his big brother. 

“Crowley.” Dean clarified, going into more detail as he composed himself and straightened his stance, “Crowley’s taken them.” He took a calming breath, his moment of weakness over. “I need your help, Sammy.”

“Already on my way.”

Annnnnnd there you have it. I hope that wasn’t too rough on the heart? No worries, there may or may not be a part two in the works? We shall see. ;) 

Anyway, if you enjoyed that, please like and comment and if you’re feeling a little extra generous, share it with your friends, too! You’re feedback is like GOLD! As always, thanks for reading! 

Taglist!

Supernatural

@akshi8278​ // @flamencodiva​ // @perpetualabsurdity​

[xiaomoxu]

MLQC CN Victor - Chapter 37

SPOILER ALERT!!

A main story from CN server which hasn’t been released in EN server. REALLY contains detailed spoilers. A mixed feelings such angst, sweet and love-his-dummy by CEO Victor!

PART 1

Downstairs LFG, the film crew is still busy in an orderly manner.

A month ago, LFG launched an unprecedented charity project, mobilizing all the resources of the group, and watching the last moment before the arrival of the comet group with all mankind.

In addition to regular material donations, psychological counseling, and medical assistance, there is also a special item one wish list.

In the last issue of "Miracle Finders", we selected this subject for reporting.

Photographer: Everyone pay attention, go one first, and prepare the light for one-

Teenager: Ok, can I just say the words directly?

Willow: To put it straight, there is nothing to worry about, we can do it again, let's do it again!

The teenager was encouraged, and smiled and showed two small teeth.

Teenager: I am seventeen years old. I am an ordinary high school student. Although you can't see it now, I have lived in darkness for these seventeen years.

Teenager: Due to chromosomal abnormalities, I have suffered from congenital blindness since birth...

Teenager: The doctors all said that despite the advanced level of medical technology, they are still helpless against such diseases and hope that I will accept the reality.

Teenager: But I still don't give up. I don't want to usher in death without actually seeing the world, so I contacted LFG Group with the last hope!

Just as the teenager expected, LFG quickly found a Healer Evolver on the Island, and treated him so that he finally saw the light.

Teenager: Although I can only look at the world for a short time, how many times in a person's life can I witness miracles happen? I am very satisfied!

After he finished speaking, he gave everyone a young and a little embarrassed smile. The beautiful dark eyes are full of light, especially bright in the night.

MC: ... That's nice.

Until the last moment, miracles continued to happen.

I raised my head and looked at the towering LFG Building in front of me, thinking back to Victor when he started the project and jokingly said-

"I hope everyone can be like an idiot, as long as they fulfill their wishes, they will be happy." The tone couldn't help but felt a moment of surprise.

I hope that the last issue of "Miracle Finders" will produce satisfactory answers to him.

With emotion, I strode into the LFG Building.

--

At this time, most of LFG's staff has left, and most of the work spaces in the building have been vacated.

Even if some are still willing to suspend their posts and help Victor handle some charity projects, they are no longer sitting here and only exchange information via phone and email.

Goldman: I have been waiting for you for a long time!

I was still in a daze, and Goldman came over with aggrieved expression. Probably because I told him that I was almost there an hour ago, but I didn’t come up because shooting for most of the day in the downstairs town.

As soon as he saw me appear, he cast a "God finally" look.

Goldman: The CEO handed it to you, I'm going to prepare for the next meeting.

He hurriedly put the previously prepared contract into my hand, lightly approached the door of the CEO's office, and knocked the door.

Victor: Come in.

Hearing Victor's voice coming from behind the door, I quickly hid the hand holding the contract behind my back.

Goldman opened the door halfway and walked in.

Goldman: CEO, can we conduct an induction interview now?

Victor: Interview? When is it scheduled?

Goldman: Yesterday, I remember it was in your schedule.

After a short silence, Victor gave instructions indifferently.

Victor: Bring it in.

I strode forward, held back a sneer, and stood still in front of Victor. Before speaking, Goldman hurriedly took the door out, leaving a room of silence.

MC: Hello, CEO! I am the candidate for interview today!

I said hello to Victor very politely, and even bowed symbolically, with a sincere expression when I raised my head.

Victor: ....

Victor let out a sigh of relief, as if he had lifted his spirits from a long and exhausting work, and couldn't help but laugh when he met my sincere gaze.

MC: Reporting to the CEO, although I have limited work experience, I am active in doing things.

MC: The CEO of the most ruthless venture capital company in the industry has won a 500 million investment!

MC: Moreover, the level of stress resistance is first-rate, no matter how big the challenge is, how many plans are rejected, you can face the difficulties!

MC: In addition, I am quite familiar with LFG's business and can start working in a short time.

Victor sighed lightly, probably because I was too noisy.

Victor: Only you can make such boastful remarks without blushing at all. You come to LFG, don't care about your company?

MC: The final issue of "Discovering the Miracle" will soon be filmed, and sister Anna will be responsible for the remaining post-production work. I don't need to worry about it anymore.

MC: I always find a place to shine and heat, right?

MC: Or I have to be a rice bug for a month...

MC: In short, I am especially willing to share the worries and problems for the CEO

Victor touched his lips slightly, revealing a smile.

Victor: Didn't you often say that being a rice bug is your ultimate dream? Now that you have a chance to realize your dream, but you are not willing?

He was so eloquent, so that scenes of past scenes of bluffing and saying that I didn't want to go to work really appeared before me.

MC: But I have already changed my dreams.

I stepped forward two more steps, narrowed the distance with Victor, and stared quietly into his eyes

MC: My dream now is to be with you.

The outline of Victor's smile on the corners of his lips curled up, and his expression sank duplicity, and put out the CEO's frame in a serious manner.

Victor: LFG’s attendance system is strict, and the consequences of absence are serious. Be mentally prepared.

I walked up to him, took out the contract that had been hidden behind my back, and unfolded it on the table.

MC: I won't be absent, I will do what you say.

Speaking softly, pressing his usual fountain pen directly on the contract, it seemed to be "forcing the signing".

MC: If I can't do it... I will be punished.

Victor hastily flipped through the contract, which was only a few pages long, and paused as his gaze passed by the post.

Victor: Confirmed?

MC: Yes!

I deserved to be confident and without any explanation. Victor raised his head and looked at me with a clear smile in his eyes. He turned the contract another page.

Victor: The contract is valid for three years.

MC: Huh? It should be the contract template copied by Goldman, right? Renew after the three-year period expires!

Victor neatly signed his name on the last page, stood up and took my hand.

Victor: Let's go, the meeting is about to begin.

MC: What meeting? Wait, am I going to work as soon as I start?

Victor: According to the contract, every minute of yours belongs to me, and it takes effect immediately.

Is there such an unequal clause? Goldman's drafting of a contract is quite tricky

MC: You capitalists are squeezing employees too much!

Victor was slightly late to me, with a smile on his lips.

Victor: Well, capitalists are like this.

The conference room was already full of people, only the first two seats were still empty.

One of them is where Victor often sits.

I remember when I came to LFG for a meeting for the first time, I could only sit on the small bench in the corner and couldn't see his face even when I stretched out my head.

 Victor: let's start.

I sat down next to Victor, glanced across the crowd, and leaned silently on the back of the chair.

Goldman opened the prepared PPT and stood in front of us.

Goldman: Now carry out the relevant reports on the work of last week,

PART 2

A sign hung at the door of Souvenir, which said that today is the last day of the restaurant’s business.

MC: Thank you for your preference for this restaurant, Souvenir will permanently close the store

LFG provoked too heavy responsibility, and Victor had no time to take care of Souvenir. I raised my head and looked at the blue light on the TV tower.

During the eternal night, the TV tower is bright yellow during the day and blue at night, marking the day and night. These days, people have been accustomed to measuring time in this way.

It seems that no matter what kind of predicament they are in, as long as there is a moment of peace, people are willing to steal a moment of peace and delay satisfaction.

I am no exception.

With Victor in front of the wind and rain, I even occasionally forget the reality that I am about to face, can let go of all my worries, and be silly in front of him carefree.

If time can be reversed, I can go back to the first time I stood in front of Souvenir...

I lowered my gaze and pushed the door into the restaurant.

MC: Mr. Mills, I

Before I could say hello, I was stunned by the scene before me.

Souvenir, who had always been cold and cold, is now full of voices, all seats are full of seats, even those who have never been before, and he has added new chairs.

Mr. Mills was busy between the tables with a smile on his face.

I hurried over to ask if I need help.

MC: Mr. Mills, shall I do this?

I was about to take the tray from Mr. Mills, but he shook his head hurriedly.

Mr. Mills: No, no, it's going to close in a while, the manager is waiting for you inside.

MC: Alright!

I walked towards the kitchen, and along the way, I was surprised by the food on the guests' table.

Like what the customer wanted to eat, Victor made something for them.

At the last moment, Souvenir's rules are no longer important.

Girl: Mom, this one is delicious, so delicious!

Six or seven-year-old children ate the little cakes with all their faces, holding their little hands and sending the spoons to their mothers, wanting their mothers to taste them too.

The young mother cooperatively ate the cream in the sentence and smiled hesitantly. She gently touched her daughter's head, but her eyes were full of sighs.

The family at the table next door talked about the topic of the younger son's college entrance examination this year, and they were rushing to plan for his future. They seemed to believe that someone would come out to save the world.

I stepped into the restaurant and walked into the back kitchen.

MC: Victor....

He stood at the window with his back straight. There was a deep night outside. I dazzled my eyes to see his black suit melt into the darkness, lonely and silent.

I walked over and pulled his sleeve slightly.

MC: Have you been busy all night?

MC: You can call me over in advance, and I can give you a hand.

Victor: With your culinary skills, you can't match up with Souvenir's back kitchen.

Victor glanced at me from the corner of the light, smiled faintly, and closed the slightly open window.

The moment he raised his hand, I saw that the pointer on his wrist watch was already three o'clock in the morning, but everyone didn't realize that the night was deep.

The world freezes in the dark, making time lose all meaning.

MC: The guests outside all had a good time.

MC: By the way, there was a little cake that a kid ate, with a few blueberries on top, and a layer of soft stuff inside. I don't know if it's ice cream... it looks super delicious!

Faced with my vivid expressions, Victor looked helpless as expected.

Victor: Three year old are not as good as you in eat. A pair of eyes fixed on the food all day long.

MC: Isn't it great? I will eat everything you make clean and happy, and I will change my way to praise your superb cooking skills!

I used an exaggerated tone to learn the child's way of speaking, trying to make Victor smile, but he still looked calm.

Victor: Ah, very good.

Those eyes that met me were as light as water, and they saw an unspeakable feeling in my heart. After he came back, something changed in his eyes.

I can't be sure, but I just faintly feel that the person standing in front of me at this moment is stronger than before but also lonelier than before.

In the past, silence was due to work habits and character.

The silence now means that no matter what you face, you can be calm and calm. The calm is strange.

MC: Victor, seven of the travel coins you gave me have not been exchanged. You said before that you would do everything you promised me.

I changed the subject suddenly, and Victor was still indifferent.

Victor: Seven? Didn't you secretly put a lot in the box again?

MC: … you’re not paying attention.

Victor: Really, when I don't pay attention?

The silence of the night was always reflected in his eyes, brewing the silence deeper.

MC: So you won't break your promise, will you?

MC: Everything you promised me will be honored in the future, right?

Perhaps it was because my words were too impatient to be too direct, Victor finally touched my hair as if calming down, and stepped forward to get closer to me.

The familiar temperature fell on the front of my forehead, which made my panic feelings find support.

Victor: Don't worry, I won't break my promise. Not now, and not in the future.

At this moment, I saw a slight surge of joy in his eyes.

Mr. Mills: Mr. Victor.

Mr. Mills walked in slowly, smiling.

Mr. Mills: Mr. Victor, after proofing today, I would like to continue to look after the restaurant. Please allow me.

Victor: Mr. Mills

Victor took two steps forward and solemnly nodded to Mr. Mills.

Victor : Of course. Over the years, thank you very much for taking care of Souvenir.

Mr. Mills turned to look outside the kitchen.

Mr. Mills: The guests all had a nice evening, and they hoped that I would convey my thanks to the chef.

Victor: It is..

Victor paused slightly and thought of something.

Victor: Excuse me, please take out all the wine in the cellar and give it to the guests tonight.

Mr. Mills: .... I understand. Do you need any congratulations?

Victor turned his head and looked at me, raising the corners of his lips indifferently

Victor: Just thank time for giving us abundant food and accumulated wine... With the feelings that have passed through the years.

Outside the window, the silent snow fell slowly in the dark night. In the cool night breeze in midsummer, a layer of untimely coolness blows off.

PART 3

Victor: Is this your specialty?

MC: Do you look down on tomato scrambled eggs?

Victor did not speak, but frowned slightly to express affirmation.

MC: The scrambled eggs with tomatoes are delicious. You can't judge the taste of a dish by its difficulty. I feel wronged for him.

When the Haikou that I once boasted was fulfilled, I vowed to make a rich meal for Victor.

Victor probably feels a headache for me to prepare a home-cooked meal and have to put out ten kinds of kitchen utensils...

He has been standing in the kitchen supervising the work since the beginning, and I don't know if he's afraid of what would happen to the kitchen or what'd happen to me .

MC: Can you stop staring at me like this, I'm nervous.

Victor: What is the guilty conscience?

MC: It feels like waiting for you to approve the plan.

MC: I dropped the eggshells into the bowl when I was beating the eggs just now, I was thinking that you must spit me out.

Victor took out a bottle of red wine from the wine cabinet and unsealed it skillfully.

Victor: I'm used to it as you are.

I dealt with the ingredients in my hand and smiled without saying a word.

In the fireplace in the living room, the wood made a snapping sound under the lick of the tongue of fire, and it sang softly to the piano music from the record.

The fine snow outside the window disappeared into the night as soon as it fell to the ground, and time seemed extremely long at this moment.

I carefully handled the ingredients in my hand, and did not notice Victor's gaze.

He put down the wine glass, the glass collided with the marble countertop, and there was a pleasant sound.

At this moment, the night snow stopped in the air, and the fire and the record were speechless. The whole world stopped, and everything was quiet.

Victor: If I let time eternally stop at this moment, would you think I am selfish?

He murmured, as if asking himself or answering himself.

Staring silently at her profile for a while, he stretched out his hand and silently hugged her in his arms.

This is an overly tender hug, without a trace of strong attitude, even the palms that are close to the back appear cautious

MC: Victor...

I stretched out my hand and hugged him tightly without leaving any gap.

Victor took a breath, as if he didn't expect that I would break away from his Evol, but didn't say anything.

MC: If I were not the dignified Queen, I would be completely controlled by you. Your Evol is stronger than I imagined.

He laughed and teased me helplessly.

Victor: It's amazing.

Although he was smiling, I heard a dumb sigh in his voice, so I opened my arms as much as possible to hold him tighter.

MC: Not even...

I stayed securely in his arms, with no intention of leaving this embrace.

MC: It’s just that I always remember the reason why I want to fully awaken, because I don’t want to let you bear everything. Always remember.

This dinner took longer than expected. When we sat down on the sofa in front of the fireplace with red wine, the night was already almost reaching the sky.

For all this time, I have a lot to say to him.

Whether it is the heated discussions in the recent issues of "Discover Myself" or the process of LFG helping people realize their wishes one after another, I am deeply moved.

A couple wanted to go to a very famous sea island to watch the sunset before the end. Unexpectedly, before the trip, the island disappeared overnight.

MC: In fact, I also feel that it was a pity that I couldn't help them realize their wishes. I had seen that island before on the Internet.

MC: At that time, it was also selected as one of the "Top Ten Scenic Spots to Go to Before the End", I did not expect to be submerged by the sea so soon...

Victor: This is what you often say, do what you think of, and don't leave any regrets for yourself. Sometimes impatient fools can do things that many people can't.

I listened to every detail and smile in his voice, and my fingertips drew across the texture of the leather on the sofa.

The more I get to this kind of time, the more I feel that even his laughter seems precious.

MC: But I was a little surprised. The wishes that everyone wants to achieve before the end are so simple.

MC: Look at the light, look at the world, eat a delicious meal with the most important person.

Victor: What people really want has always been very simple. Before that, it was only controlled by desire.

Victor: No matter how long this moment of tranquility can last, for many people, it is enough to enjoy the life they still have.

MC: It is not easy to find the true desire in the heart.

Victor put the empty glass on the coffee table.

Victor: What about you? What is your wish?

After drinking a few glasses of wine, my thoughts were empty. I only heard his low and hoarse voice falling in my ears, and many pictures flashed before my eyes.

MC: I want to see your heart.

I turned to Victor and wanted to find the answer to this question very seriously.

MC: I want to see the real Victor. Without the burden of the CEO, there is no need to worry about the world...

MC: I can put down all the responsibilities on my shoulders, just be yourself... In this way Victor, What will it be like?

He paused for a few seconds, but quickly laughed faintly.

Victor: People cannot put aside all the past and responsibilities independently. In front of you, Victor will always be the most true.

I turned to him, stared at his deep eyes carefully, then stretched out my hand and slowly touched the position of his heart.

When the five fingers fell slowly, I already felt the warmth under his shirt.

A little closer, and the fingertips rubbed the texture of the shirt, and soon, my palm felt the rhythm of his heartbeat warm and powerful.

Victor: ...

With a sigh, Victor reached out and held my fingertips lightly.

Suddenly, the scene before me changed.

PART 4

This is a space I have never seen before.

The solitary galaxy and the dazzling sunlight are constantly flashing in front of my eyes, just like every ray of time that has been inscribed in memory, the brilliance of the moment only flashes, making it impossible to capture.

MC: Victor

He was sitting in the seat directly in front of me, proud and lonely.

All the changes in the stars passed through his silent and deep eyes, and he just stared lightly.

Time passed, he had been sitting like this, his back was straight, his eyes were firm, and he was silent without a word, yet he caught every light and shadow in his eyes.

He seemed to had been sitting here for thousands of years.

For a while, my heart felt like being held down by a deep sea-like loneliness, which made me breathless. After a slight pause, I walked along the long carpet to him.

I squatted down in front of him and looked up at him.

He lowered his head and met my gaze, as if waking up from a long wait, with loose eyebrows at the corners of his eyes.

I stretched out my hand, my fingertips slowly climbed over the edge of his slender finger, and squeezed him from the gap between the slightly bent fingers.

At this moment, I recovered, seeing Victor's eyes reflected in the fire of the fireplace.

We don't know since when we clasp our fingers together and hold our hands together.

In a silent night, only the firewood was still snapping.

MC: Victor, are you tired?

Victor: What do you mean?

MC: Everything.

*All the fatigue of endlessly walking through the timeline, all the tragedy you had to witness, all the pain that you had to bear, all the hopes that you've repeatedly dashed countless times .

MC: You said that it is enough to enjoy your current life before the end. You already know the ending, understand the truth, or do you want to move on?

Victor: Not enough.

Victor spoke softly, but every word made a sound.

Victor: I am not someone who can transcend desires, I also have my own desires.

He doesn't need to say anything, I already know everything.

I curled up on the sofa, silently nestled in his arms, clasped his waist tightly with my hands, and fell on his sturdy chest.

Victor pulled the blanket and put a light hand on my shoulder.

With fire light and falling snow, the sound of two hearts beating is clear.

I know that I am embracing the most real Victor, the extremely real Victor.

PART 5

Time passed quietly, and it came to the last moment.

The whole city is shining bright neon under our feet. Busy and calm-as usual, as if we can wait for every night in the morning light.

MC: Victor, when you brought me here for the first time, did you expect the world to become like this?

Victor shook his head.

MC: So what was the anxiety in your heart when you stood here?

Victor turned his head and looked at me, then smiled.

Victor: It is impossible to completely hold a fool in his hand, hold it tightly, and keep her from leaving.

MC: Did I make you worry a lot? I know you have been looking for me for a long time.

Victor: Not long.

Victor: After experiencing real time, I only feel that the years when I found you were as short as you went to buy me a cup of coffee

Heard what he said, I couldn't help being reminded of memories long ago.

MC: I just thought you were really harsh and annoying. There were so many conditions for asking me to buy a coffee.

MC: .. Now, I really want to buy it for you again

MC: No matter how many weird conditions you have, I will never get it wrong again.

Victor looked towards the boundless sky with emotion. In the night, countless meteors slowly fell, dazzling light across the blue to dark night sky.

It's not long since 19:17.

MC: Victor, I want to do something very important.

Victor: I know.

MC: But I just want to be your dummy and live the most ordinary and ordinary life.

MC: Let you have endless heart and endless planning plans every day, and bring you all kinds of trivial troubles.

MC: Then in the blink of an eye, you can...

With tears in my eyes, crying was already entrained in my voice, so I refused to continue.

Victor: She also said that she didn't like crying anymore.

I took a few breaths and stubbornly held my voice.

MC: I didn't cry!

Victor stepped forward and held me tightly in his arms. Surrounded by the familiar smell, I closed my eyes and gripped the corner of his suit with my hands.

My only wish is to be with him.

It’s okay to laugh and being embraced in his arms like this, I don’t want others.

But more important than this wish...

It's him. He can't just usher in the ending like this.

MC: When I come back, I will bring you a cup of coffee.

I grab his arms and made a promise, and he softly responded by caressing my hair.

Victor: Alright.

MC: That’s all? Don’t you have anything else to say?

MC: In the past, you always remind me about the deadline of my proposal, you would remind me not to oversleep like an elementary school kids for the meeting the next day.

MC: At this important moment, don’t you have something else to say?

MC: I’m going to do something big this time.

Victor loosened his arms around me slightly and looked at me.

Victor: I know.

Victor: But you’re no longer a dummy you used to be, there’s nothing you can’t do.

I have already understood his calmness from his eyes. As expected, I can’t still beat him. 

I want to say something, but I felt something. There were snow-white feathers on my fingertips.

There is no time.

I subconsciously grabbed Victor’s hand--  

MC: Victor..

My heart was overwhelmed by the huge perseverance, I almost called his name from the deepest part of my throat.

As he was holding me, there’s deep complex look between his brows.

Victor: Are you afraid?

I kept shaking my head, shaking my head anxiously!

It is not fear, nor regret, no matter what is waiting for me in front of me, at this moment I will walk firmly.

But even so, I still want to stop for another moment, a moment is enough for me to call his name again, to look at him again. .

Even... hoping that time can stop at this time.

I don't want to let go of his hand.

Victor hugged me with one hand, lifted my chin, and dropped a deep lingering kiss. 

During the exchange of our breathing, I looked into his squinted eyes & saw a love that I had never seen before.

The tears that kept spinning in my eyelids were still drawn from the corners of my eyes when I was on my post. I gripped his shirt tightly, very tightly.

Aware of my silent choking, Victor clapped his hands and wiped the tears from the corners of my eyes with his index fingers.

Victor: Don't be afraid. No matter how difficult things are in front of you in the past, can't you always do well?

Victor: This time, there will be no exception.

The scene in front of me and his voice were slowly dissipating, and I looked at him deeply, unable to say a word.

I clearly felt that Victor held my hand tighter, tighter than ever, as if he wanted to keep me too.

Like he didn't want to leave me alone.

He opened his mouth, what he was saying, but I couldn't hear anything and my senses were blurred.

Victor: ...Remember, to get me back.

MC: What?

I vaguely heard something, but couldn't be sure.

The white wings spread out in the dark night, and the sky is connected one after another, and the scattered white wings sit on the tall buildings together with the meteor, and fall into the street...

Victor let go of my hand and stepped back half a step, his eyes showed unprecedented joy.

MC: Victor!

Victor: I....

He was telling me something. His deep voice was mixed with a firmness that I've never heard before, but I could only vaguely recognize the words that I wanted to hear the most from his mouth. After that she calls his name

MC: Victor...

The sight was finally dark, and Victor's deep gaze disappeared in front of me.

The city fell into the night amidst the noisy shouts-

Victor slowly opened his hand and caught a piece of pure white feather in the air. The corners of his lips were gentle, his eyes drooping slightly.

That feather just lay quietly on his palm, soaked in moonlight, as slender as she looked at him at the last moment.

---- END ----

I’m sorry if there’s some mistranslation. Kindly tell me if you found some :) thank you for read it~ ^^

[secondhand-trash]

Love in the Time of Allergies

A/N: this is a concept from @redbeanteax and I’m down immediately after she told me about it lmao

Pairing: florist!Sakusa Kiyoomi x reader

Description: You were a tattoo artist who loved flowers and he was a florist who was allergic to flowers.

Word count: 6785

Playlist:

How Long?//Vampire Weekend

Pleaser//Wallows

Flowers In Your Hair//The Lumineers

-

If you take a turn at the first corner of the bustling shopping district, you would find yourself in the quieter, older parts of the area. If you wandered through the many narrow lanes, maybe you would get further and further away from the flagships and tall windows of the main avenue in front of the quaint little flower shop hidden away from the noisy crowd, bunches and bunches of bouquets lined up at the windows and pots hanging from the awning.

Sakusa Kiyoomi lived right above that flower shop, which he coincidentally runs.

Every morning, he woke up to the sun shining through the thin linen of his curtains. The streets were already alive by the time he was awake. The sounds of delivery vans driving past his window, the crisp bells of school children riding along the road to school on their bicycles ticking his still hazy senses. He was not a snoozing type of person by all means, immediately getting up to get his day starting the moment he paused his alarm. Then he would fold up his sheets neatly, getting them in the washing machine so he could replace it with the ones that had just finished drying the night before. Sakusa always made cleaning the first thing he does right after he wakes up, it made him feel productive and he relished in the feeling that his space was spotless at every corner. 

By the time he was done, it would be time for him to go downstairs to open up the store and get ready to receive the batches of fresh flowers that were delivered every day. If he pushed open his windows, the sweet smell of flowers together with the morning air would fill his room.

A florist with a face that looked like he walked out of an ink portrait from the old times, just him standing there could be worthy as a still from any movie scene. Long, nimble fingers placing each stem right where it belong, the beauty marks above his brow moving as the man furrowed his eyes in concentration like the morning dew sliding off the white petals of a blooming flower.

A beautiful man and beautiful flowers. It would have been a breathtaking sight if you could ignore the fact that the florist was sadly, severely allergic to the flowers that he was surrounded with at every waking moment of his life.

Sakusa himself would like to argue that you could not, and should not, brush off such an important detail to his survival. Thank you very much.

How did he become a florist in the first place if he was allergic to flowers, you may ask. Well, He didn’t know. One day, he was filling in for his cousin who couldn’t attend his shift because he had dropped ill. Said cousin might have deliberately hidden up the fact that he was working at a place that sells flowers and by the time Sakusa arrived at the storefront feeling like he got struck by thunder, it was too late.

It was a pity that he was such a natural, so much so that he received a phone call from the then shop owner asking if he could come back the next day.

Sakusa still thought about that day occasionally. What had he done to himself, he looked at the sky and let out a long sigh.

Sakusa Kiyoomi was inclined to believe that he must have committed some sort of indescribable crime in his last lifetime to deserve this cruel joke from the universe.

Pulling up the latex gloves, he released the elastic band with a snap as it sit snugly on his wrist. He had his protective suit on, the white plastic covering him from his neck all the way down his legs. He had his mask and mask cover (yes, the mask needed its own cover) on before pulling his hood over and making sure that all his hair was tugged in.

Looking at the mirror, he let out a satisfied hum. Perfect, now all he needed to do was wait for the truck to arrive.

“Hello! Your delivery is here!” 

The deliveryman was a new employer of the company, his uniform neatly buttoned up all the way. He checked his reflection in the window from outside the shop, reminding himself to put on a good smile when greeting the client. It was his first time going out for delivery on his own without a senior tagging along and he intended to leave a good impression.

He shifted his weight from one foot to another while waiting for someone to answer the door. He looked around the street, taking in a deep breath of the morning air. It was a rumor among employers that there was a living urban myth on this street, one that looked like it walked out of a chemical waste field in a dystopian novel was what they said. He chuckled to himself when he recalled how terrified they looked at the describe the myth. Look at the street with its sunshine and serenity, they should at least pick a more suiting location for the lie if they wanted to prank the newbie.

“Sorry to keep you waiting.”

“It’s alright! Please notify me after you checked if all the stock is correct,” he said with a wide smile as he turned around to where the footsteps were coming from, “mr- AH!!!!!!!”

-

A few blocks away, you paused when you heard an ear piercing scream from outside. 

“Did you hear something?” your manager asked, looking out of the shop window with a confused look, “I swore I heard someone screaming.”

You tilted your head, looking away from the poster you were trying to hang onto the wall to follow where they were looking at. There were no panicking or people running to take cover so it didn’t seem like something major had happened. You shook our head, “Maybe it’s the sound of tires screeching?”

“Hm,” they glanced outside in wary but turned back to the empty store with a sigh, “is the backroom all set up?”

Your arms withhold in the air for a moment as you tried to see if the frame was before clasping your hands together in satisfaction before climbing off the stool you were standing on to turn and face your manager, “Yeah, I told the people to place all the chairs down as you said and all we needed to do was to unpack our tools, loaded up the shelves and we’re all done.”

“Ok, good,” they let out a heavy breath, placing their hands on both sides of their waist, “I still can’t believe the landlord of our last place can just take back the lot just like that.”

“Hey, they want to sell it to a big corp for quick bulk of cash instead of renting it out to a tattoo parlor, not that it doesn’t make sense,” you said with a click of your tongue, a loop-sided grin making its way onto your face as they chuckled at the saltiness you were not holding back at all, “at least we managed to find a new place fast.”

“Well, that’s true,” they said, “this seems like a pretty nice street.”

Other than the fact that someone screamed like they walked out of a horror movie in the morning out of nowhere, you thought to yourself but nodded no less as you two stood side by side and looking out of glass windows, trying to not think too much of it.

The fact was, you were just glad that you still had a job. It felt like the sky fell on your head when you walked into your humble little workplace one day to see the heavy expression everyone was wearing only to be told that the lease for the parlor would not be renewed next term. It wasn’t easy to just find a new place to rent so quickly nowadays and the possibility that you might go jobless for months horrified you to no end. 

You liked the parlor you worked in. You had heard your fair share of horror stories of how some places mistreat their apprentices before you made the commitment of applying to become one and even though you were scared out of your mind while you asked if the place was still taking apprentices after being turned down numerous times already, it was nothing short of luck that you ended up being under a group of very nice people when you actually did succeed. You had been in this parlor for several years now, staying behind even after you got your license. You liked the homely little shop and you most definitely loved working for the owner who taught you so much so you couldn’t be more glad when they came in just a week before everything at the old place must be cleared out saying that a new lot had been secured. 

You now needed to wake up a good hour earlier than before and take a bus that you were sure would take you to the other end of the town if you overslept by one station just so you could make it to work on time, but no complaints. At least the street looked nice, and there was a flower shop just a few blocks away from the parlor which you were very happy about. 

You liked flowers, you had always found them to be great inspirations.

“Hello?”

A crisp ring of the bell interrupted the silence you were having while you two quietly unwrapped all the tools and whip them clean before putting them in place at the back.

“Can you go get it? I think it might be some of the other decorations being delivered over.” they said, staring at the little scratch at the back of one of the lamps with a painful expression in their eyes as they realised that it could not be rubbed away no matter how hard they tried.

You pushed away the bubble wrap that was piling up on your legs before standing up, dusting off the plastic strands before walking out to the front of the store.

“Hello- ah!” 

You jumped when you saw a.. well you weren’t sure if that was a person because there was no face for you to identify but they had to be because you could not begin to process what else they might be underneath the full body plastic suit paired with what almost looked like a bee hat, standing at the front door with their arms stiffly extended and holding a flower basket in hand.

Your breath was rigid as you tried to calm yourself down, slowly getting back into a proper posture as you tried to ignore the million questions running through your head. 

“Hello,” the voice sounded a bit distant from behind the mask but you could still make it out to be the voice of a young man. “I’m Sakusa from the flower shop a few blocks away.”

“Oh. Oh, oh, nice to meet you," you blurted out, giving a slight bow when you realised that you were still standing there in a daze, never feeling so confused as to when the person replied to your panicking gestures with a slight nod, “I’m (y/l/n), I’m one of the tattoo artists who work at the parlor.”

So this was the person who runs the flower shop? You tried to control yourself from making it too obvious that you were stealing glances at his more than peculiar attire for walking on the street under broad daylight. You weren’t aware that florists had to dress in bee suits.

Sakusa raised his already raised hand a little, “This is a welcoming gift for your opening.”

“Ah, thank you so much,” you said, gingerly taking a few steps forward to take the flower basket from his glove covered hands. He seemed to be relieved after you took the flowers away from him, letting out a soft sigh and relaxing his shoulders.

“If you need any help please always feel free to come over,” he said, sounding rather unnatural as he stayed where he was, maintaining a fixed distance from you.

“Of course,” you replied, standing with your back just a little straighter at the sheer tension that you were feeling under the stare of a man whose face you could not even see, “thank you for the flowers.”

He gave you another nod before walking out the door and you waited, standing there until he was completely out of your sight and let out the breath you had been holding in.

That was strange, you thought to yourself as you took a look at the basket you were holding.

Hm, the arrangement was very pretty though.

-

At first, you were very hesitant to even go near the radius of the glass door with flower pots hanging down. Could you be blamed? Who wouldn’t be intimidated by a person who showed up in a full body plastic suit? But eventually, your urge to find good references for your sketches gave won over your prejudice and you gathered up all your courage one day while you didn’t have any bookings and walked into the flower shop a few blocks away. 

You weren’t sure if you were more bewildered or satisfied by your predictions being correct when you walked in to see him standing by the counter being covered from head to toe. Sakusa still looked as stiff as he was when he showed up at the parlor last time when he was in his own store, watering the flowers with this oddly long sprinkler. 

You still felt that to be pretty strange but you were determined that no matter what, you were not walking away from that place emptyhanded.

Surprisingly, he was not as hard to approach as you had thought he might be and he was very helpful when you were overwhelmed by the many pots lining the store, pointing to the bunch of colourful daisies at the far corner when you told him you wanted something that looked delicate.

You started ordering bouquets from Sakusa’s store regularly a while later.

This did not look right. You stared at the black lines on the paper, feeling like your head was about to explode at how you could not point out what was exactly wrong with it but it simply didn’t look like the image you had in your head.

Throwing the pen down, you leaned back against the couch in the front room with an exasperated sigh as you glanced at the hand on the clock that tilted more and more as each second passed.

What happened to delivery at 3pm sharp?

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” you jumped up at the sound of the door being pushed open and Sakusa walked in with a bouquet of carnation in hand. He was still covered but even without seeing his face, you could tell how he rushed over with the slight heaving in his voice, “there was a... dire situation back at the shop and I had to get that handled before I can make the delivery.

Sakusa shivered as he recalled how there was this customer who kept sneezing while walking around the store. 

“It’s alright,” you said, getting up from the couch where you were laying on, “can you help me put it in the backroom?”

“Of course.”

“Just putting it here would be alright.” you gestured to the small table at the corner and he nodded before putting the ceramic pot down.

From the corner of his eyes, he spotted the last several bouquets and pots you got from him the past week lined up on the shelf at another side of the room.

Sakusa tilted his head. He had regular customers but none that showed up as often as you did and none that bought flowers for no specific reason at all other than to look at them. “Do you like flowers that much?"

He wasn’t sure what it was about the look of pure fascination in your eyes when you looked away from the colourful flowers to face him, but he felt an unexplained antsy feeling rising at the back of his neck.

“I guess it’s not so much of a sentimental liking than just admiration,” you crossed your arms in front of your chest, “they can be so simple but so detailed all at the same time,” you chuckled, “I find all my best works to be of floral patterns.”

You could not see his face behind the mesh net but you could guess that he was probably squinting his eyes right now with the way his body bent just a little forward. He was interesting to observe, and you had found quite a bit of entertainment in watching him.

“Here,” his eyes widened when you rolled up your sleeves with a laugh. He was wondering how you didn’t seem to have any tattoos on your unlike the other artists who he had met but it seemed like you just didn’t feel as much of a need to put them on display at all times. Under the white sleeves that now rest on your elbow, there were inked lines littering all across your arm, stopping at your wrist and he could only imagine that the vines would go further up into where the faintly see-through fabric was covering.

“This is the first tattoo I ever did on my own,” you said, tilting your arm so that he could see the sunflower on the inside of your wrist, “this is a gift to myself after I finished my apprenticeship.”

“My actual first tattoo though,” you lifted your arm up, showing him the morning glory that peaked out from under your sleeve, hanging on the vines that hugged the side of your arm, “is this one,” you had a look of nostalgia in your eyes like you were greeting an old friend, “I got it the moment I turned 18 without my parents knowing, to remind myself to be resilient like morning glories that climb high even on stone walls.”

He felt like he was invading some sort of precious intimacy that was supposed to be sealed up and savoured when you gently hooked your finger under the collar of your shirt, pulling it to the side just enough for him to see the dots of baby’s breath above your collar like tiny stars.

“But this one is my favourite. I got it because... well...” you poked your tongue out before pushing the folded collar back in place, “I just think it looks nice.”

Sakusa didn’t quite understand what the aesthetic appeal of flowers that you seemed to be so fixated on was. He worked with flowers but they weren’t anything that means much to him unless you count “mortal danger” as a special meaning. But as he watched you fix your shirt, the botanicas on your skin once again hidden from sight by the silky fabric that fell down like morning mist in the market street, he found himself sparing another glance to the flowers he just handed to you and wondered what they would become under your pencil and ink.

“Do you keep all of them around?” he asked, referring to the many different flowers that didn’t look like they go together on the shelf. 

“Sometimes I’ll let clients take away the ones that I already sketched if they like it but I kinda just put them here the rest of the time,” you replied, touching one of the petals of the tulips that were sitting in a vase, “it’s quite a pity that I can’t put them in the front but the manager said it doesn’t fit the rest of the décor.”

He furrowed his eyebrows, even though it’s not like you could see him do so with the cover of the black mesh, and said something that surprised even himself once it was vocalised.

“If what you need is a reference for your sketches, you can always come over and look at the ones we have on display.”

“Really?” you did not hide the sheer excitement you had towards his suggestion, only to back down sheepishly when you realised how eager you were, “But would that be much of a bother to you?”

He was never much of a people person. He had a very carefully selected few close friends around him and he did not intend to broaden his circle any time sooner. He barely even wanted to interact with his customers all that much if it wasn’t for the fact that he needed the business, if he was being honest. His palms were starting to feel clammy from the sweat that wasn’t there just earlier, a feeling he very much so dread but the twist in his stomach that he could not begin to understand somehow hazed over this usual discomfort.

“Well, if you are only sitting there and sketching I don’t see that to be much of an issue...” he said, his voice getting tinier and tinier like he was starting to be confused over his own words. 

You walked him out of the parlor with a very, very wide smile that day, thanking him again and again and joking that it was too late for him to take his offer back now because you were going to start annoying him daily. He wanted to argue that you already went around for your flowers often enough that making it a daily occurrence wouldn’t be much of a difference but he bite it back, worried that it would come out harsher than he had meant it and gave you the impression that he actually didn’t want to talk to you.

Which was strange, considering how he never really thought that he actually did want that to happen.

-

You started showing up at his shop every day, as you had said you would. 

At first, your interaction with him was limited to the brief exchange of greetings when you walked into the store, informing the working Sakusa that you would look around yourself and he didn’t need to worry about you. You used to spend so long just standing there and sketch, stretching your neck that was sore from drooping down every once in a while. You said he didn’t need to pay any attention to you but as the owner, he still felt somewhat of a responsibility to show his care about his visitors’ well-being. 

Then you showed up at his place again only to find a little bar stool by the counter.

You looked at the suited man at the side and he looked away from under the mask under your stare. “I got you a chair because you are here for very long each time,” he added under your appreciative stare, “people are gonna get the impression that everyone can just walk in and do the same.”

So you now had your own designated spot in his shop, right by the counter where he worked. 

You started actually chatting to him after then and you liked to think that you two were friends, even though you still didn’t know what he looked like under the bee hat.

Until one day, when you went along the sidewalk of the peaceful street to the flower shop a few blocks away and saw a strange man struggling at the front door.

You froze in place, taking a few steps closer to the walls so he would not notice you too easily.

Who was this? You looked on warily at the lean figure that was shaking the lock on the glass door rather vigorously, seeming to be more and more frustrated with each moment passed. You could not see his face clearly with the dark curls that fell onto the side of his face. He was dressed in full black, black shirt with the sleeves rolled up and black trousers that only accentuated how long his limbs were. The attire did little to help with your suspicion that he was not there for a proper purpose, seeing how he was starting to shake the handle of the door and let out a tired groan when it stayed closed.

Would it be someone trying to break in? In the middle of the day? Oh god, you felt the blood drain from your face when you realised what this meant.

Sakusa would have a breakdown if some unknowns leave dead skin cells over all his things.

“Um... excuse me?” you gathered up your bravery and walked towards the man, slightly taken back when he snapped around to look at you. He was way taller upfront and you gulped.

To your surprise, he didn’t look shocked when you approached him. In fact, he seemed to have calmed down a little from his earlier irritation with the lock upon seeing you.

“Did I not tell you we are closing early today?” he said, crouching forward slightly.

“Oh, I’m just here to look for a friend...” you paused, your eyes widening when you heard how familiar his voice was, “wait... Sakusa?”

He furrowed his eyebrows, brushing the piece of hair that had fallen onto his face away from his eyes. “Yes?”

You were so prepared to fight whoever it was that might be busting the lock open but you were not prepared for this. You were so used to seeing Sakusa in his full body protection gear that the idea of him being this faceless entity got so comfortable in your head, seeing him as someone with actual facial features and expressions made you feel like you were meeting a whole new person all over again. He was staring at you, bending even forward as he waited for you to say something in confusion. The posture allowed you to take a clearer look at his face, and somehow it sent more adrenaline to your system than the nerves you got from thinking that you were about to witness a crime.

Wait, hold up. Why did no one tell you that he was hot?

From the angle you were at, your eyes immediately caught on to the sharp arch of his eyebrows, the two moles on one side dotted on like ink on white paper. His bone structure was pronounced, the defined curve lining his eyes going down to the tip of his nose. He was looking down at your through his long lashes, his lips pursed as he waited for you to say something.

You felt a slight regret rising in your chest for his face that was wasted away because its owner decided to dress like a b-movie crazy scientist.

“Why are you trying to break into your own store?” you asked, breaking the silence when you realised that you had been staring at him like some dazed fool.

He let out a mumbled groan, pressing his lips together into a thin line. “I forgot my mask at the counter before I left but now the door is doing that thing where it gets stuck and couldn’t turn the key,” he turned back to the door, putting both hands on the handle and yanked.

“Do you need help?” you asked, peaking from behind him.

“Please do,” he sighed and you held onto the frame of the door, “I’ve already been exposed to the air for far too long for-” he gritted his teeth as he gave it another pull.

“My-” a slam on the door pushed the rest of the key that was stuck into the porthole.

“Liking-” 

The door crashed open with a loud bang and you stumbled forward to regain your balance. He sucked in a deep breath when he felt the sweat on his palm, walking as fast as he could to the counter and let out a relieved sigh when he pulled out another one of his white medical masks.

“Why are you closing early today?” you leaned on the counter as you watched him physically relaxed after hooking the cotton band over his ears.

“I’m heading to the flower market today to look for new suppliers,” he said as he pressed down on the wire on the bridge of his nose, “the one we were working with suddenly said they can’t do business anymore because the delivery company refused to send people here which is very strange.”

“I see,” you said, “I was gonna hang around here because I don’t have any more bookings for today, I’ll come back tomorrow then.”

“You can come with me if you want,” he blurted out, his own eyes widening as he paused, “it might be very boring though.”

“Wait, I had never been there before, can I?” you gasped, “I want to go!”

“Ok.” he said rather stiffly, not expecting you to be so excited about what he viewed to be a rather blend thing to do.

He did not know what it was that made goosebumps rose on his arm when you followed him out of the shop, taking a few steps for each on he took just to keep up with him. It was like how it felt when he used to be less careful and got too close to the plants that he worked with, tickling and irritating and made him want to tear his own skin off but not nearly as unpleasant. In fact, he would go as far as to described the feeling as “fuzziness” when you kept talking to him on the way even though he rarely replied with more than a few short sentences.

“Sakusa, can I ask you something?”

Your voice broke him out of his running state of mind.

“Yes?”

“Why do you always wear a full body suit?"

"I'm allergic to flowers.”

“What?” he grimaced at the reaction he had expected, already knowing what you were going to say next.

It was a mistake, Sakusa grumbled to himself as he recounted how his life seemed to be full of mistakes, starting from becoming a florist even though he was highly sensitive to pollen.

“Then how did you become a florist-”

"Please don’t ask.”

“Ok.”

-

“Remember to leave the cover on for the next two hours and wash it with lukewarm water,” you said to your last client with a smile as you opened the door for them, "and just contact us if you need any help with the aftercare.”

You let out a satisfied sigh when they happily waved at you before exiting your sight. There was no better feeling than to see someone being so happy about the piece you did for them. You stretched out your arms, rolling your neck as your back cracked. That took a while, you let out a slight whine when you felt the knot on your shoulder. You found yourself to be the type that emerged themselves into their work completely once started on something which you view to be a good thing but that also meant that your notifications were always blown up every time you did a slightly bigger, more detailed piece.

You recalled your phone to buzz non-stop during the appointment until you got annoyed and turned off the sound completely. Taking it out of your pocket, you took one of your gloves off to unlock your screen.

Your eyes widened at the amount of miscalls and messages that came from Sakusa, who had given you his number after you annoyed him into saving yours. He rarely called you, you were always the one spamming his inbox when he was trying to put you on read.

You had a bad feeling about what had happened when you saw another incoming call from the man who had been bombing your phone.

“Hello-”

“Come over.”

“What?” you said. His voice was pressed down even lower than usual and you clutched your phone closer to your face to hear him clearly. 

“Please just... come over. Come over quick.” he hissed.

“What is going on? Sakusa are you ok?” you felt the panic building up in your chest at the tone he used. 

“I am facing a critical situation and you’re the only help I can get-”

“Ok,” you didn’t wait for him to finish before hastily pushing the door to the street and paced to the direction of the flower shop, “I’m coming over now.”

“Thank you,” he let out a shaky breath, “and please be quick.”

You nearly went over the front door of the shop with how much of a rush you were in. Looking in through the window, the shop was completely empty and you could not even find Sakusa anywhere.

Oh god, what was it that got him in such a crunch?

“Hello?” you asked gingerly as you stepped inside, "Is anyone here? Sakusa?”

There was no one in there. You furrowed your eyebrows as you walked deeper into the stores and past the vases that lined up at the sides.

“Psst..”

You snapped towards where the sound came from.

“Sakusa- ah!” you yelped when you were suddenly yanked down to the floor. You blinked when you saw who it was that suddenly pulled you behind the counter.

“Sakusa, why are you hiding under here?”

You felt bad for finding the very tall, very well-built Sakusa who was once again wrapped up in his plastic suit all curled up under the counter, even more so when you saw that he was actually sitting on a plastic sheet instead of on the bare ground. 

Even if he was finding somewhere to hide, he still uphold his principals.

“There’s this...” he shivered, “thing out there crawling around...”

“Thing? Crawling?” you tilted your head as you looked out, “I didn’t see anything?”

“Well of course you don’t. They are fast and tiny and black and...” he shivered again, shaking his head a little as if trying to shake away his thoughts.

“Fast and tiny and black...” you paused, “you mean a cockroach-”

“Do not say it out loud,” he gritted.

“I’m sorry for saying this but thank god,” you let out a deep breath, “I thought you were being held at gun point or something...”

“How is this any better?” he asked in disbelief, “please help me get rid of it..."

“Sakusa I’m not gonna be your personal bug killer-”

“Before I burn this place down-”

“Ok,” you said with your hands thrown up, telling him to stay put and hold back from doing any property damage. You sighed as you stood up, “Thank god I rushed out in such a hurry that I still have my gloves with me...”

Sakusa finally knew what that burning irritation he felt whenever you gush at him was when he peeked from behind the counter to see you swiftly trapping the cockroach under a plastic bag and swept it up with your gloved hands before taking it out to the street. He felt a rapid rhythm drumming in his chest when he heard a loud stomp from outside, his black eyes following your frame when you came back in with a sigh as you skillfully removed your gloves from inside out and tied them together.

“Um...” he felt the slightest bit uneased as he climbed out from his hiding spot, suddenly feeling small even though he was clearly towering over you, “thanks.”

“It’s alright,” you said with a chuckle, “can’t have you dying on me like that.”

He had never been glad about his allergies until now, feeling just a little bit more self-assured because even though his mind was in shambles from the sudden realisation he had, at least he had the mask to hide his face that he was sure to be flushed from you.

“Do you need help sanitising everything?”

"What?” his voice came out as a whisper.

“Well,” you said matter-of-factly, crossing your arms in front of your chest, “I assume you won’t just let it be after that co- that thing got in here?”

“Yeah," he stood up just a little straighter, “yeah, of course.”

Sakusa felt an unexplained taste in his mouth. It was a bit bitter, the dryness making his jaw clenched but he also couldn’t help the muscle at the corner of his mouth from inching up higher and higher as he watched you scrubbing the counter with a cleaning wipe, your forehead crinkling up in concentration

He was so, so in love.

-

You dropped everything at hand and ran out the door when you got his message.

“Can you come over?”

What was it? What was it this time? 

You ignored the bewildered glances from the passersby as you dashed along the otherwise serene street. 

Was it a bug? Did someone sneeze near him? Did some idiot broke the vases and got muddy water on him again? There’s no way that could happen twice in a week, right? Right?

You were heaving by the time you got to his place, nearly tripping into the shop as you tried to collect your breath. Sakusa was standing in front of the counter and facing the door, oddly without his usual bee hat. He felt his stomach twisting in knots as you held yourself up by the door with one hand and the other clutching your chest as you panted.

He did not expect you to show up so quickly. He had thought that he would have some more time to collect himself after pressing “send” with his shaking hands so he could look, well, somewhat cooler doing what he planned to do after a lot of inner conflicts.

“Ok, I’m here,” your hair was a mess as you looked up, your chest still heaving from the run, “what is it? What happened? What do I need to do?”

“Um...”

“Oh god, why aren’t you talking? how bad is it?” you said as you slowly straightened your posture, only to feel your breath hitched when you saw why he was in silence.

Sakusa seemed to be in clear discomfort, his eyes shifting around as his throat bobbed. But it wasn’t his usual look of wariness or discontent and instead, he seemed to be nervous.

And then you saw the bunch of red roses he was holding in hand.

“You know,” he gulped, holding his arm out as stretched out as he could, “a dozen roses means ‘be mine’ in flower language.”

You blinked, your eyes slowly widening as he looked away.

“Sakusa Kiyoomi,” you licked your lips, a grin finding it’s way to your face, “are you trying to say something?”

“I said,” he gritted from his teeth, his face burning up under your teasing tone, “be mine.”

You bite at the inside of your cheeks, your face aching from the smile that was only growing wider. In your ear, you could hear the steady drumming tapping at you, sending the signal everywhere in your body as you felt the warmth that spread together with it.

Say yes, say yes, say yes...

“Of course.”

He let out a hitched breath as his shoulders drooped, pouting a little when he looked back at you as if he was blaming you for poking fun at him earlier.

“Look, I’m sorry,” the look of resentment only grew when you started giggling, “but you were so cute just then, I couldn’t help myself.”

He grumbled and your giggling turned into actual laughs while he glared at you but couldn’t hide the blush on his face.

“It doesn’t matter as long as I say yes, right?” 

"Sure,” he let out a soft tsk, “but can you please take this?”

“Is that really the way to go at it-”

“I feel like I can’t breathe.”

“Oh, oh,” you said when you suddenly remembered his allergy and rushed to take the roses from him, “of course, of course...”

If you take a turn at the first corner of the bustling shopping district, you would find yourself in the quieter, older parts of the area. There was a quaint little flower shop hidden away from the noisy crowd and a tattoo parlor a few blocks away, but you already knew that. You also knew that as bewildering as it sounded, the florist that run the shop was actually deadly allergic to flowers.

But what you didn’t know (or at least pretend not to so he wouldn’t feel too embarrassed) was that for you, the tattoo artist who loved flowers, the florist who was allergic to flowers wouldn’t mind taking off his plastic suit and hand deliver fresh flowers to you every day just to see you smile.

-

Bonus

“Are you sure about this?”

“Yes.”

“Really.”

“Yes,” Sakusa said with a deadpan face as he sat on the chair.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“I want to,” he replied, even though his entire body was tensed up.

“Ok,” you said, leaning closer to him, “promise me you won’t regret this.”

“Yes.”

“Ok,” you said in a breathy tone, gulping as you placed you held the edge of the tattoo chair for leverage, “I’m gonna do it.”

“Ok.”

You took a deep breath, staring at your boyfriend who had his eyes pressed tightly together as you lifted your hand.

His eyes snapped open at the light peck you placed on his lips.

Look, look. This might seem dramatic but this was a huge step for him, alright?

You blinked, nervous about what he might be thinking, “how was it?”

He seemed to be dazed, his eyes flickering between your lips and your eyes that were fixed on him.

Nothing could stop the surprised gasp you let out when he suddenly latched onto you and kissed you much more firmly, not letting you move away with his hand at the back of your head.

Your breathing was rapid when he finally let you go, your face heating up when he poked his tongue out and swiped it along his bottom lip.

“I think I might actually like this more than I thought I would.”

[serendipityunho]

Lick

× genre: smut, everyone is filthy rich × pairing: San x Reader (fem.) × word count: 4.7k × warnings: explicit language, mentions of alcohol, smoking, fingering, oral, clit play, dirty talk, explicit sex, marijuana use

× synopsis:The only excitement at this boring extravagant party was the taste of a random kid’s lips on yours mixed with the devil’s lettuce, who happens to be the son of the CEO your parents partnered with. It couldn’t get any better than that. 

☁️: i don’t smoke weed, but that shit is lowkey hot, especially when you end up shot-gunning with a slicked-back-blonde-hair san.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

You never knew what the point of holding such extravagant parties was. Did they really donate proceeds to charity, or was that another cold lie your parents fed the guests apart from the disgusting over-priced cheese and caviar? 

It was nights like these where you wanted nothing but to go home and empty the fridge or possibly passed out face flat onto a lawn at some random frat party you found yourself in. Anything would be better than standing in feet-aching heels at a party with no one to talk to. 

If you earnt a dollar for every time you welcomed guests and greeted them with your million dollar realistic fake smile, you’d become a billionaire, rich enough to buy your parent’s company and probably two others. Your cheeks were aching just as much as your feet with the number of times you had to smile through the pain of talking to business people about their stupid taxes and so on. 

“You might want to slow down on the tarts, dear, there are guests you know” It wasn’t like anybody bothered to get their hands crumby with the tarts, so why not do it for them?

“That’s your fault for inviting so many people, mother” You didn’t even need to take a glance at her to know she rolled her eyes into another dimension at your snarky comment. 

“Behave” To be completely honest, it was quite satisfying seeing your mother fed up with you. It could possibly teach her a thing or two. It was honestly the least you could do after living a life many wished for. If only they knew the consequences of actually living it. 

It felt like the walls were closing in with every passing second you stayed inside, surrounded by countless bodies that wanted nothing to talk about money and other materialistic desires. You felt disgusted with every fibre of your body as you take a swift glance at your parents, putting on a show with the same plastic smiles as their snake tongues lure the interests of tycoons.

The longer you stayed here, the more you wanted to throw up from basking in overly expensive perfume and cologne. Your cheeks were on the verge of seizing from the smiles, it was exhausting.

It felt even more suffocating, literally, as you squeeze passed guests and avoiding the urge to knock over the sparkling champagne glass in their hands. The balcony seemed to be the only place of refuge. Sliding the glass door, you stepped outside into the midst of breezy night with slight shivers travelling up your body.

You felt like you can breathe again after escaping out into the open. The chatters and laughs muffled as you slide the glass door closed again, turning your back on the faces to bask in the chilly air with nothing but a loose satin dress short enough to hide the case of cigarettes strapped to your thigh. 

The balcony was long, it wrapped around one entire side and halfway around the other. It got colder as you dipped around the corner, perfect and away from prying eyes. You hiked up your dress slightly, taking the case of cigarettes strapped to your thigh before holding it between your lips. 

If your parents ever found out you were one of those tobacco users, they’d blame you for tarnishing their reputation with ridiculously absurd malicious headlines, ‘Heiress of Multimillion-Dollar Company or a Tobacco Addict?’ ‘The Irony of a Smoker Running A Biomedical Company’.  It was as if it were the apocalypse if they’d ever catch you, not that you would let them.

“Those things kill you fast, you know?” You were in the middle of a drag of your cigarette before a voice jolted you up from your spot, making you spin around to a man leaning against the wall.

“I’m counting on it” You were only joking of course.

“So what’s a pretty girl like you doing out here smoking?” The man kicked himself off the wall before stepping into the more lit area of the balcony.

“You can’t call me pretty if you don’t know me” Your lips kissed the cigarette again, blowing smoke between your lips as you stared out into the city from the rails of your penthouse balcony. 

“What if I do know you?” His features were sharp under the dim lighting, cheekbones stood out very prominently as his feline eyes left your jaw dropped. He was truly astonishing.

“I don’t seem to know who you are” You turned to face him, getting a better observation at his god-like features as you held the cigarette over the railing.

“I’m Choi San” Now that was a name that had rung a few rusty bells in your head.

“Don’t tell me you’re the Choi San of-” 

“Choi Biomedical Technologies? Yes, I’m that Choi San”

Almost half of all hospitals had the equipment and resources produced by San’s father in use day and night. Fortunately enough, the company had decided to pair with your parent’s medical research and company. 

“Funny enough, I don’t see your face around often” 

“It’s pointless to just show my face at a party where I don’t have fun” San shoved his hands in the pockets of his pants, shuffling a bit in his spot before finally turning his face towards you. 

Now you could clearly see everything, and my, he was indeed a masterpiece. You were amazed at how he managed to slick back his hair without the look of heavy hair products glistening under the light. 

“So what made you show up to this one?” If there was any way possible that excused you from attending these parties, you’d take it in a heartbeat. 

“To see what the hype was all about, my father’s tried setting me up with many girls when I don’t go. So I figured if I showed up just once, he’d finally leave me alone” 

“And did he?”

“Why do you think I’m out here?” San smirked as he ran his hand through his hair, staring down at your cigarette.

“Sounds pitiful” You bring your hand up, holding the slow killer against your lips before puffing one out into the air.

“May I?” San nodded towards the cigarette, eyes drooping at the sight of it between your lips.

“You don’t spike me as a smoker” You handed the stick over to him, watching him take a drag before smoke escapes pass his lips. 

“You’d be surprised about other things” San grimaced at the cigarette before handing it back to you and looking out into the city.

“Like what?” Now you were genuinely curious.

A smirk crawled up San’s face as he faced you again, eyeing you with curious eyes before licking his teeth. You could tell he was trying to avoid your question, but it just worked your curiosity even more.

“What are you doing out here?” You scoffed at San’s diversion, turning around to rest your forearms against the rails. 

“For a smoke obviously, and my feet hurt from walking around” You shook off the ash from the cigarette, hesitantly bringing the nearly finished stick up to your lips once again.

“You always smoke at parties?”  

“Only when I have to”

“What made you tonight?” 

“Look at that and tell me you don’t want to get out of there” San didn’t have to look to know what you were referring to. In fact, he felt exactly the same.

“You know, I have something better than this,” San plucked the cigarette out from your lips and threw it off the balcony before reaching in his jacket, pulling out a small clear bag of what seemed to look like chopped up parsley “, that would relax you”.

“What the fuck?” Your eyes widen as you finally realise what was in front of you. This guy really just stored weed in his jacket like it was nothing. 

“What? Have you never tried?” You shook your head, eyeing the green flakes sitting in its little ziplock bag. 

“I never knew where to get it-”

“Wow, look at that!” You could’ve sworn your head was about to rip right off your neck from how fast you swerved behind.

Silhouettes of guests fill the floor as a few flooded out into the balcony, making your heart race as you assured San to put the bag back in his jacket. Thankfully, the two of you were around the corner which let you dodge a bullet from noisy guests.

“Shit” As much as you wanted to smoke whatever San offered, it was too risky out here even behind the unlit corner of your balcony.

“I know a place where we can-”

“No, I can’t leave the building, they won’t let me” Your parents have had enough of you to strict you from leaving the party, mainly to keep a close eye on you and prevent anything that would blacken their name.

“Does your bathroom have a big window?” San fixed his jacket before stepping aside, walking around the corner with you following behind.

“Yeah, but it’ll look suspicious if we go upstairs together” You immediately spot your parents the moment you stepped back inside, no surprise they were buttering up more guests.

“The more you think about it, the more it’ll look suspicious” Technically, it wasn’t that hard staying out of your parent’s vision as they chattered away with more people and sipping on their champagne. 

San stayed behind you as you quickly trod up the stairs to the second level, quietness flushing over you as the party stayed below. San appeared not long after, inspecting the new surrounding as you opened the door to your bathroom. 

The marble glistened the moment you flicked on the lights, most of which doesn’t seem to phase San one bit. The door locked behind you as you unlatched the window, letting the cold air in as well as making it an escape for your smoke.

“What kind of shower is that?” San snickered. You honestly have no clue either.

“I don’t know, we don’t use this bathroom” You always questioned why your mother had such a desire for homes with more than enough rooms, it was pointless really.

“So your family’s like that too huh?” San pulled out the little bag again, placing it on to the marble counter before reaching for something else. 

“Like what?” You stared at yourself in the mirror, fixing your hair as you patted smudged mascara underneath your eyes.

“Money this, money that?” Your eyes turned down to San, packing the green flakes into a thin piece of paper. 

“It’s sickening” You were just glad you managed to escape the trap of falling into the mindset of materialistic wealth and whatnot.

“It’s surprising to finally find someone like me” 

“Like you? So you’re telling me all those campaigns and charities are bullshit too?” San’s father always loved taking every chance he got to host events beneficial to his company.

“Blatant lie, every single one of them” San sounded embarrassed, ashamed of his family’s immoral choices.

You almost feel sorry for him, but yet again, your family was exactly like that too. You couldn’t judge him one bit, not that you would anyways. Nowadays, you were always met with rich privileged dickheads boasting about which Rolex they bought with their ‘daddy’s’ black card.

“Lick” San brought the rolled stick up to your lips as you sat on the counter, waiting for you to the seal it up for him.

His eyes locked onto yours as he stood in front of you. Without taking yours off his, you stick your tongue out, swiping across the thin paper before letting San close off the stick.

“Where’d you buy it?” If you didn’t have eyes watching you 24/7, you’d be at some random back alley buying as much devil lettuce as you want and possibly smoking it at some random back alley. 

San, without a doubt, would have security with him all the time. The fact that he managed to obtain weed was questioning.

“A friend of mine sells it from his gym” San tapped your lip with the stick before flicking the lid off of his Zippo lighter, letting the flame spark as it flickered close to the end of the stick.

“Smart” The paper burnt black as it shrivelled from the flame. San set the lighter down onto the counter, packing away the contents of your little construction before taking off his suit jacket. You could’ve sworn his shirt was about to unbutton, not that you were complaining.

“If you ever need, look for Jongho down at the gym besides the 7/11 parking lot, call for Wooyoung if he isn’t there” 

“There’s a lot of 7/11′s” You took a hit of the stick, head instantly feeling lighter as your eyes drooped a bit.

“There’s only one 7/11 with a parking lot downtown with a gym next to it” 

Your feet dangled off the ground, heels clanking against the counter as you let your sore feet take a break from walking on tiptoes all night. San hung his jacket on the hook by the door, rolling up his sleeves up to his forearms as he nodded towards the stick. Boy, those arms were nice.

The hit did a lot more than expected, it was worth the wait, and the risk. You take the stick from your lips, pressing it against San’s as you take the strap on your thigh off with the cigarette case on it.

“You should quit while you can” San muffled, blowing the smoke towards the window as he leaned against the counter with his hands either side of you, still keeping a distance between his body and yours. You honestly wish he was closer though.

“I already know it’s going to be hard” You almost instantly regretted buying your first pack of cigarettes, if you knew what withdrawals were at the time, you would’ve never had pressed that toxic stick against your lips.

“It’s better than ending up black lungs” San raised his brows, letting you take the stick from his lips for another hit.

“I’m gonna need more of these if I start quitting” 

“You can keep the ones I brought tonight” You gulped at the closing distance between you and San, the dangling chain around his neck hitting against his chest every time he moved wasn’t making it any easier to stay reserved.

“I’ll pay you back”

“Don’t bother. Consider it a gift” 

“A gift for what?”

“Being decent I guess” You were so tempted to blow this smoke into his face.

“You’re decent too I guess” More than decent actually, but you were too scared to say that. After all, you only met him ten minutes ago. 

Your head felt lighter than the clouds, it was everything better than your average smoke. Now you were definitely going to attempt quitting.

“How is it?” San smiled softly, droopy-eyed as he slumped forward towards you with arms caging you in.

“This shit is amazing” You almost choke while pulling the stick from your lips, making San chuckle in such a deep but mesmerising voice, faintly showing off his dimple you didn’t know he had.

“This is probably the most fun I’ve had at these parties” San chuckled, tilting his head to the side as you press the stick back onto his soft lips once again.

“I have you to thank for that” Your heart was on the verge of jumping out of your chest as you stared at San’s devilish smirk. There was that hint of cockiness in him that had attracted you to grown to like him.

“I guess you could call it fate” San flickered back and forth between your eyes, blowing smoke out from the side of his mouth before giving the stick back to you.

“You know what would be more fun?” You couldn’t really stop yourself from saying anything further. But, you really wanted to just pop that button on his shirt that’s been on the brink of slipping out of its hold.

“Don’t say you have more drugs up your dress”

“Kiss me” You said nice and slowly enough for San to comprehend, you couldn’t help but bite down on your lip at your sudden boost of confidence, giggling at San’s bewildered face.

“You know, that would be fun” San smirked, grabbing a quick hit before locking his lips onto yours, smoke plummeting into your mouth as your fingers tangle in his hair with his body pushing between your legs.

“Oh yeah, this is so much better” Your arms slung around his neck as you inched yourself closer to the edge of the counter, pressing your cunt against the bulge in his pants as your legs cage him against you with his arms doing the same to you.

“I’ve wanted to do this since I saw you outside” San moaned against your lips as he subconsciously pushed his hips forward, grinding against your sopping wet cunt.

“Then why didn’t you?” Your forehead rests against San’s with a hand tangled his hair as the other slides down his chest, hooking your finger onto his chain.

“I thought you were one of those bimbos who say ‘daddy’ too much” It was quite insulting to know you’d given off those vibes, but who could blame you for wanting to look your best?

“I would’ve figured those were your type of girls” Your lips brush over San’s once again before softly biting it.

“Guess we’re both wrong” San’s hands cupped the bottom of your thighs, smoothing over your skin as he plants a wet kiss on your lips before trailing them down your jaw, making you throw your head back as his lips graze over your sensitive skin, plastering rough kisses all over as you squirmed in pleasure against his hold.

You pushed your hips further, almost falling off the counter if it wasn’t for San’s body pushing against you and his hard crotch grinding against your soaked pussy. San’s hand slid up and down your leg before hiking under your dress, scrunching the satin material up to your waist as you squeezed his forearm.

You could feel your arousal soaking every inch of your panties as San’s hand runs across the skin of your waist, thumb rubbing the bottom of your bralette as you pushed his head closer to yours for another sopping kiss. A low groan from the back of his throat only made your head lighter in lust as you slowly pop the buttons off his shirt.

Looking back, you never thought you’d end up in the bathroom making out high with a semi-stranger. But, it was better than floating in a pool of rich narcissistic fucks. 

San’s chest frees as you rip open his shirt, letting him drop it to the ground as your fingers trace over the lining of his defined abs. Your nipples harden as San’s fingers slip under your bralette, cupping your breast in one hand as your nipple rolls between his fingers.

A wet stain was probably evident against San’s crotch area from your subconscious grinding. It was nothing a blow dryer couldn’t fix.

You could feel his cock throbbing under his pants against your pussy. A hand glides down from his abs and down to the belt of his pants, fumbling with it before scrunching his pants down to his thighs along with his boxers, freeing his pulsating cock against your thigh. 

San’s tongue swiped across your bottom lip as he drove his hand down your thigh, inching his thumb towards your clothed clit and rubbing it slowly as your wetness soaked through your panties. Your fingers remain tangled in his hair as the other hand grasped his cock firmly, thumb swiping over his slit before pumping slowly.

“Fuck” San groaned against your lips, cock twitching in your hold as you smear his precum over his reddened tip. 

You clenched around nothing as San dragged your panties down to the ground, letting your bare ass sit on the cold marble counter as his thumb circled at your clit. Your legs ache from staying in the air with nowhere to rest upon other than San’s waist. 

“Oh my god” A breathy moan escapes from your lips as San presses his fingers against your folds, coating them in your juices as he slides them up and down before pushing them into your hole.

“I want you so bad- fuck” San pumped two fingers in and out of you with your juices glistening on his fingers. 

“Nothing’s stopping you” You cupped his face, shooting an assuring look before planting a sloppy wet kiss on his lips before he kissed down your neck again, moving much faster down to your collarbone and just the top of your breasts before lowering his body.

San’s fingers were still buried deep in you, pumping steadily as his face reached down to your thighs, smothering the inside with his soft kisses before moving over to your clit. It throbbed intensely as San let his tongue press flat against it before circling it around.

You gripped San’s hair tightly, legs quivering on San’s shoulders as he lapped at your pussy, dragging his fingers in and out of your tight hole. Thankfully, the chatter down below was loud enough for your sinful doings to be covered up. 

“Right there- oh fuck” San’s tongue flicked rapidly against your clit before sliding it up and down your slit with his thumb now circling around your clit and hands flat against your stomach, holding your dress up.

“Mhm” It was a soft moan against your core that got you going crazy. You needed more than just his tongue, you needed him.

You cupped the side of San’s head with both hands before pulling him back up to your lips, letting the tip of his cock twitch at your entrance, slipping with your juices and his precum. San hooked an arm around your back, hugging your close as he kissed you hungrily, tongue lapping everywhere with yours.

“Look in that drawer” San pulled back, tilting his head to see which one you were talking about before gripping the knob and pulling it out.

“I thought you said no one uses this bathroom” A pack of condoms appeared from below as San rips the box open, pulling one out and ripping it with his teeth before spitting the foil to the side. 

“That’s exactly why I stored them there” You grabbed latex, rolling it down his cock as he threw his head back with a groan.

“Mhmmfuck” Your mouth hanged wide at the stretch of San’s dick sliding into you, taking a few breaths before letting him move. 

“Fucking christ, so tight” San groaned against your neck before pecking it, slowly thrusting his hips into you as your legs lazily wrap around his waist.

You weren’t sure if you were able to keep your moans to a minimum when San was breathing down your neck like this and hips rolling into you smoothly. God hope the commotion below was loud enough to save you.

San rolled his hips, burying his cock deep in you as he moved slowly. Your head pounded like crazy his hands roamed every inch of your body, squeezing everywhere he could, literally, get his hands on.

The pleasure immediately flooded your head as San quickened his pace, pumping waves of pleasure throughout your body with each thrust. Your forehead rests against his as your lips hover over San’s, brushing ever so lightly as they part.

“Ohmygod yesyes” The sound of skin slapping against skin bounced off the walls as San grunted loudly, tensing his abs with each hard thrust.

Your moans were almost high-pitched as San knocked the air out of your lungs, gripping on to your thighs for dear life as your hands travelled up and down from his chest to his toned abs.

“You like that? Hm?” A smirk crawled its way onto his face as he gazed at you with hooded eyes, still fucking the daylights out of you as your breasts bounced in their place.

“Yes, oh my god- fuck yesnnghaa” You absolutely love the way San’s hips rolled against yours, it was like riding a rollercoaster to heaven and you weren’t even riding anything.

“You like the way I fuck this perfect little cunt of yours?” San grunted through a clenched jaw, slamming his hips against yours, making you gasp wildly for air.

“Fuckfuckyes- yes!” Your hand slapped behind San’s neck as he rutted into you like no tomorrow, sending your head to a cloud of nothingness except lust and pleasure. 

“Mhmffuck you’re so perfect” San’s lips attacked yours once again, you could care less about the slobbering mess, it was actually kind of hot. 

San held hugged you close as your legs gave him no chance of withdrawal as his dick continuously hits the spot of limitless pleasure, sending your breath straight out the window. A whine falls from your parted lips as your face scrunches in pleasure with brows furrowed deeply as your foreheads touch.

“S-So close- mmphh” Your legs quivered with every passing second, skin becoming sensitive with every touch as San cherished your body against his.

San quicked his thrusts, literally knocking you back further as he plunges his hips harder against yours. A bundle of pleasure in the pit of your stomach starts to go wild, seizing with every thrust made to reach the spot inside you that you could never reach. 

Your walls clench tightly around his cock like you were holding on for dear life, slamming your lips against San’s to muffle your sickly moans as he rammed into you. It was like floating in a utopia filled with nothing but euphoric bliss as your vision went blurry with San’s grunting against your ear.

“Oh fuck! Yes ohmygodddnngghh yesyes-” You gasped sharply, legs starting to quiver as your abdomen tensed from the sudden burst of pleasure ricocheting all around your body to flooding your brain. You could’ve sworn you went cross-eyed for a bit. 

“A little bit moremmph fuckk” It was only a matter of seconds before San rutted hard into you one last time before spewing his release into the latex, moaning wildly against your lips as he hugged you closer than before.

Your body subconsciously spazzed subtly as San slowly slid himself out from your hole, letting his cock twitch against your thigh as his forehead rests against yours. It was a comfortable silence that washed over the two of you, there was nothing but the sound of your desperate pants of deprived breath. 

It felt like everything had frozen at that moment when San’s eyes met yours, it was like you had just seen a thousand stars pooling in his eyes when he pecked your lip. 

You pulled back to get a better look, still accumulating your clear vision as San rolled off the latex without looking down, discarding it in the trash can beside you. A small bead of sweat lined the side of his face, making you pat it away with a tissue you pulled from the box behind you. 

“Your makeup’s ruined” San pulled up his boxers along with his pants, letting it hang at his hips as he leaned forward with his hands rested against the edge of the counter. 

“Not like I’m going anywhere afterwards” You gently dabbed San’s sweat away before throwing the tissue into the trash, leaning back on your arms with San still inches away from your face.

“I can try to sneak you out” San whispered, gazing deeply into your eyes as you did the same.

“Now why would you want to do that?” 

“To have proper fun” San pushed himself off the counter, reaching down for your panties that had been plastered onto the floor just ages ago before carefully sliding them back up your leg and holding your ass in the process, caressing it gently.

“We just had our fun” You wrap your arms around his neck, pressing your chest against his naked one as you hopped off the counter.

“I have a feeling we’ll be seeing each other quite often” 

“I’m actually counting on it” You traced your finger along the outline of his pecks before landing a soft kiss on his lips one last time.

“Music to my ears”

“Hm?”

“Party’s over, sweetheart”

_

Copyright © 2020 by serendipityunho      All Rights Reserved

[13atoms]

Centuries Apart (Dhawan!Master x Reader)

Based on this lovely request for a Chameleon-Circuit-ed companion by @ateliefloresdaprimavera​ <3  [2.1k]

The Master could never explain the way he was drawn you. From first sight, it had been a fascination which you felt in yourself too. He wanted you with him, both of you excusing his weak excuses to spend time with you. At first it had seemed magnetic, possessive, that was the only type of connection that you had imagined him capable of. But soon you were living with him, watching as he sauntered around his TARDIS, insistent on impressing you with all of space and time. He was sweet and kind, when he wanted to be, and each time it surprised you.

Your undefined relationship was something strange, something unique and more than any earth terms could define. The lack of labels didn’t bother you. He never gave you time to worry about that, because you were enjoying yourself so much.

Spending time with him suddenly felt like all that mattered, as natural as breathing.

The early days had just been fun. The flirting, the planets, the adventures and the attention. Moreover, it had been surprisingly fulfilling for both of you. Then things had changed. Late night conversations had drifted towards the personal, the Master feeling more at ease with you than he had in centuries. With trust came casual fondness, caring for one another, confessions about Gallifrey, about his fears and your own and then finally it all felt so natural.

‘Adventures’ and ‘research’ and ‘conquests’ turned into ‘days out’ and ‘holidays’, then tentatively… ‘dates’.

It was all innocent, in a way which surprised you with this impossible man. In some ways, it felt like you’d known him forever.

Then he’d brought up the locket. Burnished silver which had hung around your neck for as long as you could remember, you had protected it through adventure after adventure, never letting it out of your sight.

“Where did you get it?” he’d asked one night, the pair of you exhausted and drunk on adrenaline, laying on adjacent TARDIS sofas.

One day you’d summon the courage to share, you knew he was waiting for you, for the day you’d lay down beside him instead of a few feet away. I’ll summon up the courage tomorrow, you’d told yourself a hundred times.

Absentmindedly you picked it from where it lay off centre on your clavicle, toying with the locket on its chain.

“I don’t remember,” you shrugged, “why?”

“You never take it off. I’ve bought you nicer jewellery, you just… don’t wear any of it. You never take that old locket off.”

You gave a laugh, and he smiled.

“Fine, I’ve stolen nicer for you. Answer the question,” he teased.

A few months ago it would’ve been too personal to ask about, but now there was nothing of your foggy memories he didn’t know. You always wanted to tell him more, but your life on earth just felt so… different. Like it wasn’t yours.

Still, you had no secrets anymore. You supposed.

“I just… I’ve always had it. I like it.”

“Can I see?”

With a shrug you reached to unfasten the clasp, finding your fingers trembling. Instead, you turned to face away from the Master, allowing him to reach up from his reclined position and undo the fastening, taking the necklace to inspect. You found yourself getting strangely nervous as he pulled the chain between his fingers, playing with it. You swallowed the irrational feeling.

This was the Master. You could trust him.

“I wonder how old it is?” you pondered, and he smiled.

“Not old, but I don’t think it is from earth, which is…” he frowned suddenly, “curious.”

You frowned too, as his finger slid along the clasp.

“I don’t think it opens – ” you began.

You would know, surely, if it opened. How could you not? You’d had it for years, your whole time with the Master and on earth, surely you’d –

The Master’s thumb slid easily along the edge of the locket, cracking it open as he inspected the intriguing metal with his bottom lip between his teeth.

Then everything went blinding gold.

*

Everything burned. Your whole body, as you gasped for air on the Master’s sofa. The pulsing of the TARDIS and the Master’s fear were bombarding your mind, making your own fear rise as you could hear the Master’s high-speed train of concerned thoughts projected unprotected into your mind.

As you grew more and more frantic in your own telepathic thoughts, he stopped projecting, apparently unaware you’d been able to hear.

“Darling?”

His voice came into your mind and your ears milliseconds apart, but you could tell, even in the void of the Time Vortex where the ship rested.

The string of Gallifreyan which left your mouth felt strange, muscles unused for decades. How long had you been flung on earth? Who had left you there? The Doctor? You remembered a stolen ship, and an eccentric scarf and screaming for a Koschei as the bright light of regeneration energy had been snatched from you into a petite necklace. And after the Doctor had hung it around your neck he’d thrust you into a life you didn’t recognise and left you. And –

The Master’s deep brown eyes were watery, impossibly wide as he stared down at you.

It was like he was seeing you for the first time, taking in your every feature as if he was committing it to memory.

Without making eye contact, he pressed one hand to your wrist, delicately finding your pulse point and holding his breath. You could feel it yourself – what he was looking for.

That unmistakable double heartbeat.

You could feel it in your own chest, as your body painfully shifted into place, numbed a little by adrenaline. Your newly strengthened senses took in so much that you couldn’t focus on a single thing, overwhelmed. Though an overture of the warmth of his fingers and the smell of his sweat still managed to permeate through the haze.

“Who are you?” he breathed.

Another string of unfamiliar Gallifreyan rushed from your mouth before you could think a word in English, and the Master’s eyes shone with tears, his breath hitching.

There was only one emotion bombarded towards you, along with the TARDIS’ noisy stream of consciousness, and that was hope. From the ship and her Timelord.

Hope.

“It can’t be you,” he seemed to be begging, refusing to let his hearts be broken by an imposter or a mistake.

You could feel his fears, in plain and simple Gallifreyan in your head.

It’s me, you projected back.

Then, your fake childhood was replaced with a real one.

It flashed across your mind, a flipbook of memories. Hours in the academy with Koschei and Theta, stolen glances at the former and raucus fun with the latter, your friendship with them growing and maturing and straining and then –

“You thought I was dead?” you realised.

“Of course I did,” he breathed, suddenly crouched by your side, his couch now a hospital bed as he seemed to beg for this to be real. “I’d… I thought I’d never see you again.”

“How long was I on earth?”

You looked around for the discarded locket, like it might offer you answers, but it was in the Master’s hands. He pulled it to his lips with a gentle reverence, and you wondered if he could somehow tell how old the Chameleon Circuit was from its cool metal against his lisps.

He just shook his head.

“How old are you?” you asked, and the Master smiled wryly.

“I don’t remember,” he admitted, “so much has happened since you…”

The word died lingered on his tongue, but found its way into your mind. His telepathic barriers were so unused, you hated to think how long he’d been alone.

“This is my second body,” you realised, and he smiled indulgently.

“I’ve had far more than that, dear.”

There was an ancientness, a sadness, in his eyes that you couldn’t remember from your childhood. It was forever ago for him now, you supposed. Gallifrey was gone. Your home was gone, you realised numbly. The Master seemed to hear your projected thoughts, his face falling, making you want to reach out and stroke his cheek until you could rouse a smile.

You longed for the strength to sit up, but you knew your body couldn’t take it. It was still bubbling, fizzing, settling, as regeneration energy coursed through you.

“How did you get here?” he whispered, “How did you die?”

“The Time War, I crashed, trying to – trying to run. Towards the Doctor. He… he saw the opportunity. Let his TARDIS spit me out here with a new identity. As a human. It is over?”

“The Time War?”

You nodded, fighting to keep the tears at bay, so many new thoughts battering your mind that it seemed ridiculous to be talking about the Time War as you woke up in your new body. It was regeneration sickness dialled up to 100, your consciousness slipping as a million new senses bombarded you.

“I… I think I told you. It’s all over…”

“Rassilion!” You realised, “When you told me that – ”

You stopped talking at the surge of pain which flowed from the Master at the mere mention of that name. He’d told you so many stories which you had never fully understood as a human, and now it was all flowing back into place. Your head ached, all the new stimulus and memories fighting for your attention, even as all you wanted to do was talk to the Master.

What were you now, you and him? Your childhood of longing to be near him, of treasuring every moment of your friendship, and now it was just you and him and the Doctor. The only survivors.

And you weren’t sure you could ever face the Doctor again. Not after they had forced you into humanity without your consent, in a fresh regeneration had never had the time to come to terms with.

“You need to sleep,” the Master soothed, feeling the beginnings of a panic attack as your thoughts spiralled, leaking from your mind to his.

“I’m… regeneration sickness… is it bad?”

It was covered at the academy, though it was academized and smoothed over, the information becoming useless. It had seemed so alien then, when you were young and stupid and arrogant. You remembered Theta saying he’d make each body last millennia, and Koschei had made fun of him for it. You certainly couldn’t remember any those classes now, so long ago and buried beneath memories of your friends joking around.

A sharp pain brought you back to the present, the Master wincing as you writhed on the sofa.

“It’s not fun,” the Master confessed, his warm hand smoothing your furrowed brow, “especially the first time, but you’ll be okay. I’ll look after you.”

“I know you will,” you smiled, curling up, watching as his face disappeared.

*

When you woke up on the couch, you were covered by the rich silk of your own bedsheets. The Master was mere feet away, a cup of tea in each of his hands.

“Morning,” he smiled, “you were out for days.”

You sat up, pulling the sheets around you. You couldn’t feel the cold, not in the way you had as a human, but the safety of the sheets was nice. You took the tea, stifling a cry as the hot cup burnt your skin, and the Master muttered an apology as you took it more carefully.

“Fresh skin,” he smiled sympathetically, “always tender.”

He sat beside you, careful not to hurt you or make you spill the tea, closer than he had when you were human. You noted it, even as your body felt like it was molten inside, how his hip pressed against yours through layers and layers of clothing and fabric.

“How do you feel?”

“Alright, weird, but good,” you smiled, and he gave an understanding nod.

He’d been through this plenty of times, and the thought broke your heart a little. How much had he done, lived through, endured, between the young man you’d left during the Time War and the version of him who sat beside you.

You let yourself relax a little, your body still sapped of energy from regeneration. You were starving, but you let yourself enjoy the moment for just a second. Food could wait. Your shoulder sagged against his, and he hummed contentedly at the contact.

“What should I call you?” you asked, blowing steam off your drink.

“What do you mean?”

“Master?”

“Oh! Koschei, please,” his voice dropped, both in volume and pitch, and you felt a sudden seriousness in his tone, “Koschei.”

A silence fell over the room, the comforting repetitive pulse of the TARDIS even more comforting now than it had been when you were human.

Back when he’d invited you on-board.

You weren’t who you thought you were, and you weren’t the person he had thought. The stories you’d told him weren’t you. The childhood you’d remembered wasn’t yours.

His hip pressed into yours, his body feeling warm now your body temperature had dropped.

You watched as he took a sip of his drink, before glancing over to you, a smile on his lips.

“Are you disappointed?” You asked.

His smile dropped. You felt suddenly vulnerable as he turned to properly face you, his eye contact unavoidable as he searched your face for answers you weren’t sure you had.

“You'll need to expand further than that, love.”

You gulped.

“That I'm not her, the human – ”  

His eyes were so serious, flickering from your lips to your eyes, his body curled towards you, almost smothering you.

“But you are.”

“I’m not –”

“I can’t lose you,” he blurted out suddenly, “not again. You’re… it almost killed me, the first time. No one knew where you were. The Doctor said you were… gone.”

“That bad?” you tried to joke, but you couldn’t keep it up.

His face fell.

“I spent centuries… and every dream, through everything… all I could think about was that I should’ve told you how I felt.”

“Centuries?” you whispered.

“Centuries.”

He wrapped an arm across you, getting closer still, and you searched his eyes.

There was so much unsaid. So much to figure out and discuss, but you knew it wouldn’t change your relationship. Neither of you were leaving the other.

“And now?” you asked.

“I’d still mean it.”

Burrowing your face against him, you could hear the thrum of his hearts, feel how much he meant it in your mind.

“What would you tell me?” you asked tentatively.

You could hear it in your mind, the word, the emotion. He smiled as you read his thoughts.

“That you’re staying. And that I… I loved you. Still do, I suppose.”

He cleared his throat.

“‘Love’ isn’t strong enough, not for people like us,” he told you, looking away while his words sent an ache through your hearts.

You smiled, but he wasn’t joking. Instead his deep eyes flickered to your lips, moving closer to cup your jaw. You could feel the drowsiness of regeneration sickness pulling at your mind, the uneasiness of your newly regained time senses. Mostly, you could feel the draw of his mind and body, after so long apart.

“Do you… do you want to stay?” he asked nervously.

Suddenly teary-eyed, you couldn’t help a watery laugh, nodding furiously and feeling his fingers bumping against your jaw, his smile matching yours. Your locket was still wrapped around his fingers, and as your eyes landed on the chain, he untangled it. The metal glinted before he fastened it around your neck, resting it back in that familiar spot, the fastener broken open.

“I’ll get you a new one,” he smiled apologetically, but you shook your head.

“Don’t,” you told him, “I want to keep it as it is.”

“Can I kiss you?”

“Please, Koschei.”

[color-ns]

So, today is the grieving day for the holocaust. As a Jewish, I know all about it. But every year I look in the internet, I don’t see anything about it. In conclusion, I realised that most people don’t know what happened in the holocaust, or even know ABOUT it at all. even if you do, you probably never heard stories. Even if you did, you’re probably very lucky. So, I took it upon myself to tell you a little bit of what happened then. But, I’d like people to actually search things up as well. So I decided that instead, I’ll just give a little teaser, to make people curious. Hope you like it. I really put heart into it.

————————————————————The silence

It was 1943

I was six and he was seven

The earth went to hell

And my parents went to heaven

A knife in my pocket

And a loaf in my hand

Genoside all across the land

I took his hand and ran

Screaming ringing in my head

We ran and we ran

Until we saw a shed

Far enough from fire

Close enough to hide

We never made it inside

From the moment

My air left my lungs

My moments to spare

To run from the guns

My parents, my home,

Had all been wronged

The silence

Had began

It was 1944

I was ten and they were 30

We lost our way around

All the blood and all the debris

Feeling kind of sick

I took my father’s hand

It was dirty and covered with sand

We found a place to hide

A little stuffy but it’s good

All we need now

Is a little bit of food

We tried to look around

If there’s something we can find

We died starving our minds

From the moment

My air left my lungs

My moments to spare

To run from the guns

My parents, my home,

Had all been wronged

The silence

Had began

It was 1945

Someone spared my soul

Hiding in their house

Sitting in a hole

Never moved a muscle

Since 1944

That’s how feels a war

It’s getting really noisy

I wander what’s outside

I hope the door won’t open

And they find out where I hide

Hearing several gunshots

I remember the sky

This is when I died

From the moment

My air left my lungs

My moments to spare

To run from the guns

My parents, my home,

Had all been wronged

The silence

Had began

————————————————————

To be clear, all the stories the song speaks of were based on REAL story’s I heard over the years. This is not about fiction, and it’s not anything like I usually write or make. These are real lives from the holocaust. Real deaths.

I’d like for you to take a moment and think about them. You don’t have to, I just ask of you to do it.

And now think about the other 6 million and more people that suffered a similar fate.

Thank you, if you did think about it. thank you.

[neonbutchery]

(150) prompts list: [FLUFF] #47 for... well, anyone! But maybe for your Shepard and Samara even though they both know they're not going to run away.

ANON... sorry for getting to you so late but i got carried away with this :') i still hope you like it!

cw for explicit descriptions of sensory overload and ableism (just in passing). shepard's autistic in this one because... i said so. and she adopted urz. thank you to @dr-ladybird for beta-ing!

you can also read this on ao3!

----------

Shepard needs a break. From the other side of the door she can hear the bass, thumping, and she wonders who’s currently in charge of the music. When she had left the party, Jack had been the one making the playlist—and judging by the song that’s playing, she’s still the one in charge. Everyone was having fun, dancing and drinking.

Except her.

It was all too overwhelming. The yelling, the loud music, the crowd that had gathered around her and made her feel like she had no personal space whatsoever. The very specific details she somehow remembers: the wine stain on Tali’s hood and the emergency induction port tossed on the table, the empty sushi trays, the bright lights flashing. Suddenly, her chest had been too tight and she was breathing rapidly; and she needed to get out of there.

It has happened before. It has always fucking happened before at the most inappropiate moment, and it has happened now, when she was supposed to be enjoying herself with her friends. Instead, she’s alone, in the small terrace of her apartment that looks out to a shitty alleywall, and she doesn’t know whether to cry, laugh, or keep berating herself like she always does. For a while, she thought she had it under control: she could function relatively normally in public and avoid attacks like this one. She’s able to keep calm when there are literal giant death machines invading the galaxy and killing millions every day, but it’s a party of all things that has caused an anxiety attack.

Dammit. She’s been living with sensory overload ever since she was a teenager. When she was an Alliance recruit living in noisy barracks, she used earplugs so she could fall asleep. When they were on the hunt for Saren, she spent the aftermath of the missions in her cabin, wrapped under the blankets and listening to music so she’d calm herself down. Some understood: she had confided in Kaidan before when she realized they both had similar problems. Some needed time to come around it, like when she came back from the dead under Cerberus patronage and after inventing a dozen of different excuses, she had to finally tell Miranda why she needed to be alone so often.

But now the words don't come out of her mouth. She dreads coming back to the living room and inevitably having to explain why she was missing, and the cold air of the night is better than losing control of her emotions and having to withdraw again. Shepard still feels guilty. All those people are there for her. They are her friends, some dating back to three years ago, and they abandoned their posts to spend a last night together. A night she wanted to spend dancing and laughing, not dealing with overload.

She leans back against the railing and pulls out a pen from her pocket. She had stolen it from Anderson’s office back in 2183, and has kept it on her ever since. Her finger lingers on the button at the end of the object and she starts clicking it again and again, closing her eyes. It helps keep her hands occupied and focus her mind on something else, and the rhythmic pattern of the sound is calming. Breathing in and out, remembering what a therapist had told her, Shepard tries to collect herself as she continues fidgeting.

“Shepard. Are you okay?”

She’s startled by the door opening and Samara’s voice. The asari is standing there, with a worried look on her usually inexpressive face, and Shepard guesses she knows what’s happening.

“I…”

“Do you need to be alone?”

The commander nods and Samara disappears once again, leaving Shepard on the terrace. She can’t help but feel bad about it, even though Samara knows about the fact that she needs space and is okay with it. Shepard first told her about it in one of their chats at the observation deck in the Normandy, back when they weren’t as close as they are now—but even then, she trusted her. And now, where the two are… Well, Shepard doesn’t know if they’re a thing or not, but they spent the other afternoon making out on her couch. That’s self-explanatory.

A few minutes pass and Samara returns with a glass of water, handing it to Shepard. “Drink,” she says, and Shepard does so, almost emptying it. The liquid running down her throat is refreshing and needed.

“Did you get overwhelmed?” Samara wraps an arm around Shepard’s hip and raises an eyebrow, asking if it’s okay.

“Mhm,” Shepard replies, leaning into the touch. “Sorry.”

“No need to apologize.” Samara's right: she shouldn’t demand forgiveness for something she can’t control. But she’s so used to being told she's bothering someone with her tantrums that hearing otherwise sounds weird, yet comforting.

“Yeah,” she answers, and it's the only thing she can bring herself to say. Shepard's exhausted, it's late, and while she promised herself she’d be rejoining the party, her body says otherwise. For a moment she closes her eyes and reclines into Samara’s chest, her lips curling up in a smile. The thoughts racing in her head have stopped for a brief second and she breathes, feeling the stress disappear.

She’ll come back later. For now, she’s happy, enjoying a peace she hasn’t enjoyed in a while.

“I’ve been thinking.”

“You are always thinking, Shepard.”

“I need something to keep myself entertained when I’m not impaling husks with an omni-blade,” she replies. It’s true. Sometimes, restlessness creeps up and she needs some sort of stimuli. “Funny, coming from the person who spent her free time in the Normandy meditating in front of the void.”

That gets a chuckle out of Samara, and Shepard can’t help but feel proud of making her laugh. It took a while—a lot of conversations, a trip to Omega and a hunt for a killer, and then, a reunion in Lessuss among rubble and Reaper forces, but now, she’s starting to see the person Samara truly is—someone just like her. There are too many uncertainties in the air: the invasion, Cerberus, and their own personal problems (the daughters that Samara will eventually have to bury and the broken galaxy Shepard will have to piece together); and yet, Shepard is starting to think about the fact that Samara is who she wants to spend the rest of her life—no matter how short—with.

“We could run away together. Just you and I. After the war.”

The Justicar stays silent. Shepard guesses she’s about to say something about duty, or the Code, or how they were meant to be together in another life, but not this one. But she doesn’t.

“Well, not us alone. Falere can come along if you want. And Grunt. And Urz*. If you aren’t allergic to the whole varren thing.”

Shepard nearly goes on another tangent before she bites her tongue and shuts up, silence filling the empty space again. She doesn’t want to annoy Samara more than she already has with her mad ideas.

“That sounds nice,” Samara answers. Shepard doesn’t know whether it’s the melancholy of the moment or the very small chance that she truly thinks that, but hearing her say that is comforting.

Maybe one day it will happen. Maybe they will spend the rest of their days together after this whole ordeal and live somewhere quiet. Shepard doesn’t care where: as long as Samara’s by her side, she would follow her anywhere.

Even if it’s a small terrace in the Silversun Strip, soaked by the neon signs and skycar lights, and leading to a living room where the unsung heroes of the galaxy are enjoying what might be the last party of their lives.

[collecting-stories]

Vanilla Sundae - t. 04 - Sarah Cameron

Summary: Just light smut.

A/N: If you haven’t listened to the playlist at all...definitely listen to this song! Vanilla Sundae is incredible. 

7 Scenes from the Same Summer Masterlist | Outer Banks Masterlist

✰  I may never find another like you ✰

There were things in the distance that you were mildly aware of. Your record player humming some song that was a little too sad for the moment, or maybe that was just a foreshadowing undertone. The sort of thing you read about or see in a movie that you just know is going to play into the greater story later on. For now, though, much like the candles burning on your desk, it was just a background prop. Another thing that was happening that added an unneeded ambiance to the room.  

You could light a million candles and play every song you knew, you could be laying in complete darkness without a sound being made, or you could turn every light on. None of it mattered. The only thing that mattered was Sarah, though to be fair that was usually where your head was at.  

There had been no clothes to be rid of, that had been done hours ago. After John B had called the day before you had spent a significant amount of the day in bed, letting it turn to night before Sarah told you that she thought she made up her mind. And even though her voice was a bit wavering when she said she was done with John B, she kissed you so surely that you believed her. And maybe it was just so she could feel something different but you had a hard time caring about that. Even now, in bed with her after the night before, you couldn’t bring yourself to think long term.  

All that really mattered was her. The softness of her tanned skin as you kissed a path from her neck to her breasts. She wrinkled her nose at the slightly sticky feeling of your chapstick as it left a trail of where you had been. If the summer had given you anything it was an excuse to unabashedly stare at your best friend without feeling like a creep leering at some guy’s girlfriend. You could look and, happily enough, touch. Your hands brushed against her breasts, your touch so light it was like you weren’t even there, goosebumps erupting on her skin. You pressed a kiss above her right breast, soft skin molding in your hand as you ran your tongue over her nipple, the sweetest of moans escaping from Sarah’s lips.  

You didn’t linger too long on her breasts though you could have spent a lifetime if you were given the chance. Last night had felt a little rushed, like you had only an allotted amount of time to prove your devotion before she changed her mind. Left you in a haze as she went back to John B.  And even now, as you pressed feather light kissed to her stomach, watching her muscles contract from the ticklish sensation, you knew that you were only given what she was willing to let you have. A moment with her, a lifetime bottled in your childhood bedroom as rain mixed with the sound of the static from the record player and you held her hips.  

You took the time today, hands moving her legs apart as you kissed her inner thighs, letting yourself feel every part of her body. You weren’t usually one to care but you couldn’t deny that the smoothness of her skin as you ran your hands up her thighs, felt like velvet. There were millions of times, drunk on the couch in your dorm room, when you had declared your love for Sarah Cameron, telling her how beautiful, how stunning, how much of a goddess you thought she was. She was always drunk too, always doing something embarrassing like trying to show off her non-existent dance skills or singing off key and she always appreciated the compliments. You would’ve showered her in thousands of compliments a day if you could’ve. Drunk, sober, it didn’t matter.  

You were dumbly and ridiculously in love.  

“You’re amazing,” you commented, voice soft and reverent as you kissed just below her belly button, following an imaginary trail down until you were kissing just above her core. Sarah closed her eyes; hands already gripped the bedsheets as she bit her lip.  

“I’m not doing anything.”  

“I disagree,” you chided, pressing your fingers between her folds, breath hitching at the sensation as they slipped in with ease, soaked from her arousal.  

Without missing a beat, you moved back up, kissing her mouth. Her hands came up immediately, caging in your face as her tongue slipped into your mouth. You held yourself over her with one arm while your free hand continued slow ministrations, brushing her clit with feather light touches.  

“I love you,” Sarah breathed out, her voice like a whisper.  

You pressed a kiss to her jaw, closing your eyes as you let your forehead rest against hers. You wanted to say it back. To tell her that you loved her too and that you had, practically since you met her. How cliche was it? The best friend pining for the girl. You’d finally gotten her and when she said those words you closed your eyes and pretended, she didn’t. You worked her through her orgasm, kissing her when she got too noisy.  

“God you’re so loud,” you teased as she came down, eyes hooded and looking at you like she actually meant that it when she said she loved you.  

“You should be happy, means you didn’t suck.”  

“I didn’t but I can.” You replied. She laughed, squealing when you pressed your lips to her neck and sucked.

You laid down beside her, wrapping your arms around her and smiling when she draped a leg over yours. She pressed herself against you, running a hand up your side and brushing fingers just beneath your right breast. “I meant it, ya know? I love you.”

“Sarah-”

“I know what you’re gonna say, that I’m just saying it because I’m missing John B or because we’ve spent the entire morning in bed but I’m not. I mean it. I fucking love you.” She said, kissing your neck, your chin, your jaw, until she got to your mouth. The lightest kiss was placed there, her lips barely brushing yours.  

“You know how I feel Sarah,” you replied, eyes on the ceiling as you tried not to look at her.

“You don’t have to say it yet, I’ll just keep saying it until you believe me.” She said, moving so she was hovering over you, forcing you to look at her. Sarah brushed her nose against yours. “I love you.”

-

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[pluckyredhead]

wip amnesty: super sons fake dating (but different)

So while I was working on It Wouldn’t Be Make Believe (If You Believed In Me), my brain abruptly gave me a completely different Super Sons fake dating scenario, insisted that I write two scenes, and then abandoned me entirely. There is like a 1% chance that I will ever finish this so instead I offer it up to you, my very patient friends. (Don’t worry, I have different Jon/Damian fics planned!)

Also, this completely ignores the Bendis run, because...well, you know why. SIGH.

-

Damian cast a weary eye over the guests assembled at the gala, the latest tribute of the Gotham elite to their own wealth and frivolity. He wasn’t even sure what this one was ostensibly raising money for, but he had a feeling most of that money had gone into the refreshments and entertainment rather than the intended charitable recipients.

He hated these things, but Father was in space with the Justice League, Richard was undercover, Drake was on Earth-3, and Todd was just generally unsuitable for public consumption. Once again it fell to Damian, as the heir to the Wayne name, to carry the entire family on his shoulders. He usually didn’t mind, except when it took the form of wearing a tuxedo and making small talk with empty-headed socialites.

Maybe the Riddler or someone would show up and try to steal everyone’s jewelry. That would be a pleasing diversion.

He saw Gracie Van Nuyck, daughter of one of the few Gotham families older than the Waynes, making her way over to him and quickly took out his phone. He was meant to be the latest irresponsible Wayne playboy; he could be rude and spend a whole party texting and not talking to anyone as long as he kept a stupid expression on his face.

He already had a few texts from Jon, he saw when he unlocked his phone.

giant kraken attacking honolulu

titans & i r teleporting over

u in?

Damian clicked his tongue.

I know you’re overriding your autocorrected capitalization to irritate me.

And I can’t. I have to attend this gala.

sucks 2 b u 🐟 🐠 🐬

“Damian Wayne.” Gracie had not been put off by his texting - in fact, she had her own phone in her hand. Damian dimly remembered that she’d once told him she was an “influencer.” She had influenced him pretty strongly to get as far away from her as possible, so he supposed she was good at what she did. “Look at you, all dressed up and looking like a snack.”

“Gracie,” he said. “Nice to see you.” He did not attempt to make it convincing, or glance up from his phone more than briefly.

Trust me, I’m aware. Everyone here is an imbecile and none of the hors d'oeuvres are vegetarian.

“Do you like my dress?” Gracie asked, giving a little twirl.

“Lovely.” Damian did not have Richard’s ability to give genuine compliments, or even Father’s ability to fake them well. It didn’t deter Gracie in the slightest.

“I have a proposition for you, you beautiful boy,” she said.

“I’m the same age as you.”

that blows. what about the orderbs?

Damian fought a smile. I also know you know how hors d’oeuvres is pronounced.

😂 😂 😉

“What’s that smile for?” Gracie asked.

Damian forced his facial expression back to neutral. “What’s your proposition?”

She held up her hands like she was illuminating a marquee. “Gotham’s new dream couple: Dacie. Or we could be Gramian, I guess, but that sounds horrible.”

“Excuse me?”

“You and me, joining forces,” she said. “Me and my millions and my beautiful body, you and your millions and your beautiful body...we’d be the toast of the glitterati.”

“You want to date me,” Damian said, flatly, disbelievingly. This was what Father and Richard’s inability to resist a pretty face had brought him to: being literally propositioned at parties by socialites who thought every Wayne was an easy mark.

“I want to date you,” she agreed. “It must be your lucky day. Well, night.”

Damian stared at her for a long moment, just enough to let it become uncomfortable. “No,” he said finally, and turned back to his phone.

once weve kicked this things ass i bet i can bring u some shave ice before it melts

Bring the kraken instead. It can eat everyone here.

“No?” Gracie repeated.

“No, thank you,” Damian said, as a sop to good manners.

He glanced up. She looked bewildered. It might be the first time she’d ever been told no in her life. “Why not?”

“I’m seeing someone,” he said. Totally untrue, but a reason she couldn’t argue with.

Not that she didn’t try. “Oh? Who’s the lucky girl?” she asked, her expression calculating.

Damian raised an eyebrow. “Not sure why you would assume pronouns,” he said, more to wrong foot her than anything else, though it was true that gender didn’t make much difference to him. He disliked most people equally.

Her eyes widened before she recovered herself. “My apologies,” she said. “Do I know...uh, them?”

Damian’s phone buzzed in his hand. It was a selfie of Jon, with Billy and Lian pulling faces behind him and a tentacle snaking through the air above their heads. Idiots. He fought another smile.

Stop taking selfies before you get drowned.

“It’s a long distance relationship,” he said. The last thing he needed was Gracie tracking down Colin or Maya or someone and pestering them.

no its cool we made friends with it

i gave it ur shave ice

sorry

“Oh?” Gracie asked. “Where do they live?”

Out of the corner of his eye Damian could see that she seemed to be on her phone too, so he felt even less bad about ignoring her. “Metropolis,” he said, because it was the first city he thought of. You traitor, he texted Jon.

“Innnteresting,” she said. “Well, it was worth a shot. See you around, hot stuff.” She brushed a kiss in the air near his cheek and sauntered off.

Damian blinked. That had been...relatively painless. Maybe the whole night would go by so quickly and easily.

He checked the time. Three and a half hours to go.

Tt.

*

Jon had heard the noise before he stepped outside, but he hadn’t really processed it. Metropolis was a noisy city, and if there were no gunshots or cries for help, he had gotten pretty good at tuning it out.

Which was why he was so surprised when he walked out of his apartment building to be confronted with a sea of reporters flashing cameras at him.

“Jon!”

“Jon Kent!”

“Jon, over here!”

His heart stopped. Had they somehow found out he was Superboy? Which meant they knew about Dad, and Mom was probably in danger, and all of his friends, and…

“Jon, long have you and Damian Wayne been dating?”

What?

“Back off, you vultures! Leave him alone!” Uncle Jimmy emerged from the crowd, red-faced and disheveled. He put one hand in front of Jon’s face and the other on his shoulder. “No comment! He has no comment! Come on, Jon, back inside.”

Thoroughly baffled, Jon allowed Uncle Jimmy to steer him back into the building.

“Hey, Frank, don’t let any of them in unless Mr. or Mrs. Lane-Kent says it’s cool, okay?” Uncle Jimmy said to the doorman.

Frank, who Jon had known since they moved here when he was ten, put his imposing frame in front of the door. “Absolutely not,” he said.

“Thanks, Frank,” Jon managed, and waited until he and Jimmy were in the elevator and out of sight of the reporters. “What the heck is going on?”

“You’re a social media sensation, kiddo,” Uncle Jimmy said, and held up his phone to display a picture of Damian wearing a tuxedo and looking elegantly bored. “Apparently Bruce Wayne’s kid told someone called ‘GraceFace’ that he was dating a boy who lived in Metropolis, and she told her three million Instagram followers. A bunch of them found this photo.” He swiped to show a slightly blurry picture of Jon and Damian in Centennial Park, clearly taken on a cell phone by someone moving quickly. Jon remembered that day but hadn’t realized anyone had recognized Damian, though it did happen. “And someone figured out your name.”

“And assumed I’m the boy Damian is dating in Metropolis,” Jon said, putting it together. “Wait. Is he dating someone in Metropolis? Did he mean me? Why would he say we were dating?”

Uncle Jimmy held up a finger. “No, first question before that: how the hell do you know Damian Wayne?”

“Uh.” Jon paused. Uncle Jimmy knew all about him and Dad, since he was basically Dad’s best friend, but not any Gotham secret identities, and Jon was pretty sure both Damian and Mr. Wayne wanted to keep it that way.

Uncle Jimmy’s eyes flicked to the counter that showed what floor they were on. “And before we get to your apartment...any chance you want to give me the exclusive on this saga of young love?”

Jon’s mouth dropped open. “Uncle Jimmy!”

“What? I’m a reporter, it’s in my blood!”

“I’m telling my mom you asked me that.”

“No, please, tell your dad. He can only heat vision me or throw me out the window. Either way it’ll be quick.”

“Yeah, that’s why I’m telling Mom.”

[fanfictrashdump]

Universe in a Jar - Phase 4 fic

OK. I did something. A few days ago I reblogged this post about the magical trio. And then my brain went off on a monumental tangent and this happened. It’s not my fault, really– Loki is my all-time fave, Wanda could murder me and I’d thank her and Stephen is a smart, sassy bitch... all wins.

So, here, y’all can have it. I might leave it there or I might continue depending on my mood. 

Characters: Stephen Strange, Loki, Wanda Maximoff, OC

Rating: T? Language!

Summary: Baby-sitting beings arguably more powerful than him goes awry for Doctor Strange. He knows one person who can possibly keep them isolated and out of trouble. Well, he knew someone who could... he hasn’t seen them in decades and for stupid reasons.

XX

"Wait here. No funny business."

Doctor Stephen Strange half-dragged himself upright to deliver the warning. The portal-hopping and timeline clipping involved in the last twelve hours–if he could even call them that–of his life had really taken it out of him. Who knew fixing tears in the time-space continuum was so exhausting? Doctor Who made it look like a breeze!

Setting his companions with one last threatening glare, he walked up to a faded, run down apartment door with a crooked six hanging just above the knocker. In all honesty, the place looked even worse than what he had anticipated when the hospital directory gave him the address. Still, he knew he had made it here for a reason, despite the fact his stomach was roiling and begging him to reconsider. This was his Hail Mary. Tightening his jaw and frowning himself into another set of early wrinkles, he pounded the wooden entrance so hard the six righted itself.

A minute or so later, the door swung open, a woman filling the empty frame just long enough to lay eyes on the doctor.

"Nope."

The door slammed shut with a noisy shudder just as Stephen opened his mouth. He swallowed the dozen or so expletives that were threatening to wriggle themselves free from his throat. Instead, he straightened his hoodie, loosened his neck with an audible crack, and took a deep breath before the side of his fist struck the door four times.

Pound. Pound. Pound. Pound.

Silence.

Stillness.

His companions beginning to titter in the background because for all his pomp and attitude and the timelines are not to be meddled with–I am the Sorcerer Supreme, he could not get a single human to open the door.

Pound. Pound. Pound. Pound.

His teeth ground together harder in annoyance. "Seph! I have absolutely no problem in staying here all day. Making a fuss. Screaming at your door. Waking the neighbors. Being a nui–"

The door swung open, then. Stephen was met with a frown and eyes dark as storm clouds and for just a second he forgot why he was doing this. "What the fuck do you want?"

His expression softened under her glare, if only minimally. There was a reluctance in his frame that refused to give up even as he said the words. "I need help, Seph." His eyes flittered briefly over his shoulder and it was just long enough for the woman to notice that the sorcerer was not alone.

Standing on her tiptoes, she looked over his shoulder. Just down the harshly lit hallway, two figures–woman dressed in dark red and a man in an all black suit–stood watching the interaction and chattering among themselves. Her expression lightened just a fraction. "Who's the cutie?"

Stephen looked back, furrowing his brow and taking careful inspection of the other two before directing his attention back to the woman at the door. "Which one is the cutie?"

"Take your pick," she challenged back and even though his initial instinct was to roll his eyes and scoff, a little smirk tugged at his lips.

He whistled, gesturing the door with his head. His companions perked, if only due to sheer curiosity about this new person. "Wanda, Loki, meet Dr. Persephone Hale." He sighed, shoulders slumping in anticipation for what was to come out of his mouth. He gathered the most sincere look he could muster and held her gaze. "Please?"

A million expressions fluttered through her features, including a peculiar twitch of her nose he knew only happened when she was about to do something she really didn't want to. He tried not to celebrate the victory too soon. She was, after all, making him wait for it. After a moment of internal deliberation, she stepped aside and Strange signaled in no uncertain terms that the two needed to step inside.

"Thank you for having us. I'm sorry if we're intruding." Wanda looked tense as she spoke, like they had already had plenty of doors slammed in their face. Or perhaps she was just sensing the thoughts and emotions of their host and fearing the worst.

Seph waved her in. "It's not a problem. I am glad to help an Avenger and… an alien god." She offed them both a forced smile. "Where'd you leave the horns?"

Loki chuckled, straightening his suit. "They didn't go with the outfit. May I?"

"Of course. It's him I'm not crazy about."

The smile on Loki's face grew as he sidled past her, leaving Stephen to glare at them both. "Seph–"

"I don't care. I don't care about whatever excuse you're about to give me–"

"I'm sorry! I can't do anything else other than apologize."

"Yes, you're right. Why would the Sorcerer Supreme even bother with the lesser mortals?" With an icy glare, she turned on her heel and stomped into the apartment, though she left the door open in invitation.

Drawing a long sigh, Stephen reconsidered turning time back just ten minutes and foregoing this whole disaster before realizing he had no other choice, and so he followed her in and closed the door behind him.

The entrance hall of the tiny Bronx apartment melted away after a few steps, replacing stale summer air with a crisp country breeze. Faded blue flower-patterned wallpaper was familiar at first sight, as was the well-loved wooden stair banister, worn in places where the steps were squeaky from nights of trying to sneak in after curfew. Knick-knacks and pictures crammed into every possible space brought back memories that he had long since locked into the back of his mind and forgotten about. Everything within his line of sight brought with it a prickle and tingle of a life past but still haunting him, and he loved and hated it in equal measure.

"Who devised this portal? The work is rather formidable," Loki remarked, breaking the silence, in the closest thing to awe that any of the others had ever heard.

"Oh, i-it’s nothing impressive." Seph quipped, brushing away the compliment.

"So you studied alongside Strange, then?"

"No. Not magic, at least." Persephone gestured with her index around the room. "This is the only thing I can do."

"A feat like this without any of those silly rings that he needs? Impressive." He paced around, touching invisible seams and humming to himself. "With a little training you could do very well for yourself." Neither doctor could decide whether the tone he was using was encouraging or threatening.

"I don't think so," she replied, fidgeting in her oversized cardigan. "I was put off early on."

Despite the fact he was pointedly looking out the window, Stephen could tell Seph's gaze had fallen onto him. There were a million other things he would rather do than have that conversation–a root canal with no lidocaine, for example. He, instead, forced his focus on staring at the house sitting a couple of hundred meters away. The red trim of the roof was looking faded and the gutters were a little loose but it did not seem like the house was in total disrepair.

"I haven't been home in ages," he muttered, off-handedly.

"Oh! Weren't you born and raised in Manhattan? At least according to the Times, anyway." The sarcastic tone Persephone used made an uncomfortable weight press down into his stomach. He opted to count how many missing shingles there were on the roof.

"Ah, so there's history. That explains the dread at having to come to her door," Loki announced genially, clearly in need of some entertainment. "Wanda, you've lost our wager."

"Loki," Wanda warned, taking the time to fix him with a look before gesturing at the other two. They seemed to have been fighting a war entirely through stares.

"Which door leads outside?"

Seph rolled her eyes. "Which fucking door do you think leads outside, Stephen? I thought you were this hot shot genius doctor!"

"I am asking because that door," he gestured at the front door, "leads to the middle of nowhere in the Bronx."

"Then maybe don't take the door that leads to the Bronx, then, jackass. Or better yet, do. Until now, you've never had a problem finding a door away from me."

"That–" He killed the retort before it had a chance to meet the air and instead pivoted his questioning. "Is the key still under the mat?"

"I don't fucking know. Where did you leave the key twenty-whatever years ago you last graced your own doorstep?" With that last remark, she stormed off and up the stairs, cardigan billowing behind her, while Strange wrenched the back door open and threw himself into the field between the houses.

Wanda and Loki shared a look before making themselves scarce, elsewhere.

XX

About an hour later, Wanda opened the door to what she presumed was the main bedroom and peeked inside. Persephone lay with her limbs splayed out, dark curls smushed on one side, blinking blankly at the ceiling. With a sigh, she opened the door a bit more and let herself in.

"I hope you don't mind. Loki and I made some tea. And he might have eaten a whole sleeve of Oreos."

Seph laughed despite her gloom and shuffled to sit up against the headboard. Wanda smiled, offering her an extra mug in her hand, steam billowing from the top invitingly. "Sorry. I've been a terrible hostess."

"You're more hostage than hostess at the moment. I don't blame you." Wanda sipped at her tea for a minute in tense silence. "So, when did you and Stephen date? And how did he fuck it up?"

The responding snort was heartfelt and led to a long laugh. "No. Stephen and I have never dated."

"But there is history."

She ruffled her curls back into shape, out of nervous habit more than concern, and sighed. "Hard not to have when you've known him all your life. He grew up in that house across the way."

"I assumed as much." She gave her an encouraging smile, like a mother coaxing her teen into conversation. It worked exceptionally well on Seph. "Come on. We were neighbors growing up does not cover the level of tension from earlier."

Seph shrugged. "We both wanted to be doctors. I followed him to the same schools, undergrad and med school. We were pretty much our own support system. His sister passed, and his parents, my mom. We always figured it out together–"

There was a bit of confusion in the witch's face. "OK. That sounds really sweet, though."

"–and then one day I told him a secret. I told him I could make doors go to other places and I showed him, and I haven't seen him since."

“Ah, right.” Wanda winced. "That… sucks."

"Yep." She popped the 'p' before sipping at her tea.

"But when he got into magic, surely he–?"

"Nope." She swallowed at a lump in her throat and pushed away the ball of emotions that thinking on that day was dredging up. "That day he said I was crazy, that I drugged him. I've never heard an apology but he somehow gets to be Sorcerer Supreme."

Wanda sighed, taking a long draw from her tea before adding. "Jeez, what a dick."

"I'm assuming this scrawny, little thing is him," Loki remarked from the door, startling both women. He held out a framed picture of four children. "I am assuming he was bullied on that haircut alone."

"No worse than being the only Black kid in school in a small town in rural Nebraska," Seph retorted with a wry grin. Loki considered and shrugged, sitting at the bottom of the bed with what appeared to be a pack of saltines. "That's his little brother, Victor. He's the taller kid. The girl is his sister, Donna. That's the last picture we took before Victor died."

"Didn't his sister die, as well?" Persephone nodded. "So, they've all died. Seems like he's a harbinger of bad luck. Maybe we'd do well to stay away," he quipped, tossing the picture onto the mattress.

"Yes, tell us about harbingers of bad luck, Mr. I've Died More Times Than I Can Remember," Wanda sassed back, much to the other two's amusement.

"I have a question, Lady Hale."

She wrinkled her nose in distaste. "Seph is fine, Loki."

"These portals, can you make them go anywhere?"

She shook her head. "Only places I've been to, sorry. Can't send you back to whatever planet you want to run off to."

He tsk'ed. "Well, it was worth a try."

"What did you two do to get stuck with the magic police?"

"Created a whole new reality by escaping my first arrest" "Held a whole town hostage in a fake TV show." They replied simultaneously.

"Fuck. No wonder he's desperate," Seph muttered to herself. "Why doesn't he just keep you in the fancy sorcerer place?"

"Too many artifacts to play with." "Too many books with dark magic."

"OK. He's clearly in over his head. No wonder he came here. There's no way he could keep you both controlled and contained without the..." She gestured around the room to signify the magic of her bubble.

"It's nice to let him pretend." Loki offered with a wink. "It's endearing."

Persephone laughed, sparing a passing thought to the idiot who didn't know what he got into. "Well, if you're stuck here, anyway, there's plenty of bedrooms. The bathroom is down the hall. Make yourself comfortable and relax. I'm going to go get dinner started."

Wanda smiled, stretching happily. "I'll take you up on that. I need a shower and some sleep."

Loki smirked. "I'll join you in the kitchen, if you don't mind."

XX

When Stephen returned, a long while later, he was immediately drawn to the familiar smells permeating the house and warming him from the inside out as much as the soft, honeyed whispers being exchanged in the dim light of the kitchen. He found Loki and Persephone at the stove, speaking in hushed voices, closer to each other than he would have deemed appropriate–definitely flirty. Loki had changed out of the black suit into a pair of joggers and a dark green tshirt and seemed downright at home bantering with the human over the simmering pot. His ease made Stephen's left eye twitch immediately, some long-forgotten jealousy roiling in his chest and clenching his fists on their own accord. He cleared his throat loudly to pull their attention.

Seph rolled her eyes and turned back to the pot to stir, though Loki lingered close for a few extra moments before taking half a step back.

"I guess the fun police is back," she muttered under her breath and Loki chuckled.

"Loki, could you go check on Wanda, please?"

"Wanda is sleeping, so no." He turned back to his companion, whispered something into her ear that made her giggle and turn to face him, bottom lip caught between her teeth.

The way his eyes trailed from her lips to his gaze made something snap inside the sorcerer. "Just get lost, will you?"

Seph craned her neck, fixing him with a glare. "Leave him alone. This is my house." Loki grinned, leaning in to press a kiss to her cheek with a smug glint in his eye.

"I need to talk to you."

"Funnily enough, I heard all I needed to two decades ago, so…"

"Persephone, I am not playing here, I–" His demand was cut short by the flickering of the walls. Invisible curtains dividing this world from the little ratty apartment in the Bronx were faltering. Just beyond the constraints of the space, a whole new area, neither New York nor Nebraska, was reflected for just a second before it flashed back.

"It's alright, darling. He knows he has no authority here. Settle down, dove," Loki cooed cautiously, eyeing their surroundings with caution. "Do you want me to give you a moment with him?"

Seph sighed, studying Loki’s expression before nodding reluctantly. "Like I have a choice with this idiot."

"Very well. I will make myself scarce." He inclined his head at her, a gentle smile attached. Once he turned, he gave Strange a dirty look with a multitude of silent warnings and retreated to the living room.

Stephen snorted. "What did you do, bribe him?"

Rolling her eyes, she turned back to the stove. "Nope. He was hungry. I fed him. You'd be surprised how much less surly he is when he's full."

He frowned. "We ate before coming here."

"Hm… what's your excuse, then?" After a minute of silence, she glanced over her shoulder to check he was still there. He was. Unfortunately. "Besides, he eats three times as much as you do. Whatever you had wouldn't have made a dent."

"How do you know that?"

She let out a single laugh. "It's this revolutionary practice called talking. You wouldn't know about it, scalpel jock."

"Here’s a thought. How about you let your disdain for me go long enough for us to have a conversation."

The spoon in her hand slammed into the pot with a splash, driving bits of stew everywhere. Reality flickered within the portal and time dilated just long enough for him to notice before everything went smashing back into place. She was good at repressing these feelings, he knew. She must have spent their decades apart trying to control herself, unaided, and now it was his fault that she was losing control.

"How can you pretend that the single worst day of my life is just water under the bridge, Stephen?" She turned from the stove and he noticed her eyes glowed faintly in their intense hazel. "You accused me of drugging you, of deceiving you! I was grieving, my life was a mess, and I suddenly opened doors to places I hadn't been to in years, entirely by accident." She began to close the space between them, rounding the kitchen table. He felt like he should make a hasty retreat but found he lacked the ability. "I was terrified. I needed you! And you left me! I had no one!" Her voice cracked at the end, eyes filling with tears as she did all she could to retain the glare she was directing at him. "And after all that shit, you find magic and you–you didn't even have the decency to come and talk to me until you needed something."

"I didn't understand what had happened, OK? I opened your closet door and stepped into my childhood bedroom, Seph! How was that logical?"

"How did you think I felt, fucker? I was the one doing it!" Her voice rose to a shout and Stephen was quick to match it.

"I'm sorry! OK? I am sorry. I shouldn't have left. I should have reached out to you sooner. I should have helped. I am sorry. I'm s o r r y, but I was a dumb kid and the girl I was in love with could make distances shrink into nothing and I panicked!"

"You should've stayed gone, then," she replied, icily. "Because the boy I was in love with died when you left me alone in that room."

Cold filled his veins, and his spine quivered at her words. This was pure hatred, plain and simple. He couldn't find it within himself to blame her, to logic his way out of his role in her misery. Every excuse he could offer could be countered with 'yes, and it was happening to her, too'. She had been his one support through every bit of rotten luck he ever had. And he left her to her fate in a strange city without a lifeline. He never imagined he would be back to have this conversation, to pick at the scabbed-over wounds he had inflicted long ago.

"Persephone… Seph…" His hands tentatively grasped for her shoulders and gave a squeeze. She flinched, but did not pull away. "I am so sorry." With a little more coaxing, he had enveloped her in his arms, his nose pressed into her hair and inhaling the familiar scent of coconut. "I'm sorry. I am sorry," he chanted, feeling the front of his shirt dampening with her tears as her shoulders relaxed and molded into him. "I am going to make it up to you. I swear."

Persephone sniffled, pulling away from his frame. "I've waited a lifetime for you to come back for me." She blinked and tears streamed down her cheeks. "But I don't want that, anymore.” She made distance, wiping at her eyes and steeling her resolve. He wanted to pull her back to him. She needed to understand his point of view, though it suddenly occurred to him that he never bothered to understand hers. “You're welcome to stay as long as you need. But this isn't fixable, Stephen."

After a tense moment of staring at each other, she skirted past him, ignoring his protests and pleads to talk, opened the pantry door and disappeared through it with a ripple. 

“Stellar job, Strange. Now we’re stuck until she gets back,” Loki commented as he slipped into the kitchen, grabbed a bowl of stew and sneaked back out. 

For once, Stephen did not argue.

[commonalex]

future ready

future ready by common alex

Listen/download: future ready by common alex

It was around three months after I've been fired. I didn't dare to talk about it much, but it wouldn't that much of a mystery for someone to figure out why the short chick with the plaited hair isn't on the cash register giving wrong change to the old ladies anymore. To be perfectly honest, I was pretty devastated that I managed to fail even at working at the supermarket, where all you needed to get a grip was knowing how to count, wearing an "Olga" tag like a war medal, and acting like everything's okay at all times. Maybe that's why I ended up sneaking into it like a thief that day, out of stubbornness. It was the last sense of routine I had while everything was going under outside the window.

I could barely get out the bed before four in the afternoon. And when I did, all I had planned was dragging my body before the tv to catch some telemarketing and dumb commercials until the sun was out again and I successfully forgot who I am and what I'm going through. Because what other choices did I have really? For the last two years I was jumping from one dead end job to the next, either until I get fired or until I quit. I was leaving on benefits and a sad amount of savings, and I was starting to accept the fact that this would be my life from now on. Like, what else did I really have to rely on? Studies? Big deal, the world wouldn't end with just one english teacher less. Friends? Don't get me started. Family? All I was left with was a mother with a mission to make me feel horrible every time we spoke on the phone because I wasn't bothering to go see her. But even if I did, what would I have to say to her? I was mentally collapsing. So I said "leave it for now" and kept the thought pushed back for later. That's the reason why on that particular day I didn't pick up whenever my mom was ringing this cherry ericsson I had at the time. It wasn't like I really needed to answer, I already knew everything by heart.

"Have you seen how this girl you used to hang out at school does lately, Olga?".

No, mom, I haven't. It's been like ten years since I finished school.

"She's studying this thing you used to like, she got settled, she even has her own house".

Well done for her I guess, and?

"And you?".

I don't know what the hell I'm doing with my life anymore, mom.

"But don't you ever think about your future?".

My long awaited future, huh? What a glorious future that was. It was so good, half of the people I used to know didn't make it halfway through.

Outside things were a bit more casual that the deep existential turmoil that was described by the news at the time, yet I was indeed shocked by that eerie amount of silence that was stretching through the cold winds that was piercing my purple coat. I could hear a tv screaming from two blocks away and the screeching roars of the phone lines echoing around the city, but there was barely any human voice left. I was only catching some mumbles and grunts here and there as I was jumping out of fear every time I had to turn around a corner. So it was just like everyday Athens, only with a little more of snow and fear of getting mugged. My social atrophy made me feel like I was being chased as the surrounding landscape was rapidly being stripped from anything that was reminiscing of a typical day. Like, that was the first time I ever saw people looting kiosks and butcher shops. I only managed to see like three to five people with their backs hunched, covering their faces while carrying those huge gray tv screens with the vhs player still attached or fifteen bags of chips, with their eyes moving around uncontrollably. All I had in my mind seeing these scenes was the word "brutalization". Maybe because all this time I wasn't fully aware of what was going on, or maybe because the news told the truth for once.

I snuck from the side door where the staff entrance was, because all the glass on the front of the supermarket was smashed to pieces and I didn't like the thought of my hands sliced open. It was a mess on the inside and the aisles stood empty like sad metal canyons. People must have broke in trying to get all the toiler paper and canned foods left in the previous weeks. From the expired milk bottles at the back to the unstoppable static noise of the refrigerators in front of me, there were all those special little touches to make me feel like I was working in this hole of a job again. And no, I did not bother searching for supplies. Instead, I walked around like I was out shopping with my mom, opening the boxes of the diabetes flavored cereal that no one bother to take, just to steal their toys. I also found a bunch of unopened boxes of the supermarket's very own faux chocolate milk (yes, the one with the dark industrial waste left on the bottom) that was probably expired as well. But, I was a lady, right? So I took some of them to the cash register, because Olga ain't no petty thief. I got around my place of work and scanned the bottles to find out that they cost something less than three hundred and seventy-five million. "Luckily, I don't have to calculate any change now", I thought. Never before have I ever experienced such relief while being there. I was sitting in the same place I was rotting for hours before the world turned to shit, and I was patiently waiting for a huge line of old ladies to pop out of nowhere just to ruin my vibe with their pension money bills. I almost started to miss all of those stuff. This must meant that things have really turned to shit.

The new millennium have begun just like any other year, against the disappointment and secret eagerness of some people. All that screaming about the revelation, the second coming of Satan, the aliens, and the revolution of the machines faded miserably as the days went by and absolute destruction was not to be seen. Yet, at least. Because the first planes that crashed mid-flight in South Africa and Indonesia didn't appear before the end of January, but all were like "okay, technical problems". And when missiles were accidentally landing on Iraqi cities, people were like "well, what to do, technical problems yet again". Only when the bank deposits got erased people started to cry and run like headless chickens. Young people now would call me cynical, but you had to be there to see it. It was crystal clear that people had all of their hopes and dreams for tomorrow stored into a single digit of a computer. A kind of tomorrow which was now failing to promise anything anymore in front of millions of simultaneous personal bankruptcies. Then the reactors in Italy exploded due to a system failure and tomorrow officially died. This tomorrow that we were told would bring everything to us, from cancer treatments to all of Britney's music stored in a tiny mini-disc. From flying cars to underground metros. From huge tv screens for each living room to the giant digital information highway better know as the INTERNET. Nowadays all of these sound so silly, but the pain in the faces of people from the betrayal of their dream did not seem to go away. Until mid-February, everyone lost their minds. Those who saw all of this coming ran away in fear of the new Chernobyl to leave the rest of us behind to die. Shops, services, offices, all ceased to have any actual reason to exist in from of the impending disaster. All you could see around anymore were padlocks, deflated bodies on the street from people that couldn't take it anymore, and some shadows of people left to wander like animals while pretending to be alive. Maybe that's why the tv was constantly playing commercials and other irrelevant bullshit during all of this, it was the last useful thing they could show to the people that were preparing for the grand finale.

But that grand finale wasn't so tangible for me. Everyone had this type of end predetermined, but this panic of theirs seemed more like a slightly less shallow version of the preexisting self-preservation to me. I wasn't convinced by those who screamed that the world was over simply because it already happened to their world. Like, just as Rome wasn't built in one day, their illusions weren't shattered overnight. I mean, at that time the supermarket was filled with those obnoxious promotional banners featuring the new slogan that was everywhere lately, before things change for the worse. They had the "FUTURE READY" catchphrase in large white letters that spread noisy and ridiculous lacking any particular meaning as everything was collapsing. What future exactly was that slogan referring to? The future in general, as a concept of time and space? They wouldn't have thought that out that much. Was it the future of humanity from now on? I wouldn't be so concerned for this with all those rich fucks that had already kissed as goodbye from their shelters, we were far from being extinct and in maybe less that ten years we could wake up with someone like Will Smith ruling the world. No, the catchphrase probably meant that future with the flying cars and the internet. The future only fools would believe it would come (and yes, people actually believe that). That future we lost just as fast as we were promised for it.

So in short, we were crabs in a bucket, pulling each other down in excruciating depths. This wasn't living nor surviving; we more or less kept on functioning like bio-robots with depression. But for me, things weren't looking so grim. "Look at me", I would say, "I reached twenty-nine and haven't done crap to be proud of, I drink expired chocolate milk and I'm secretly glad the world is ending because every day was borderline unbearable for me anyway, so how good would the future be for someone like me?". Nowadays the denial of any form of reality in this reasoning stands out, but at that moment I was reaching redemption. I was now reassured by the thought of the end, acting like a barrier that could block this endless loop that was running relentlessly against me. "So finally", I said to myself, "let's calm down once and for all". I was spinning around in the cashier's chair like a silly kid and was finishing up the bottles of milk like there's no tomorrow, while convincing myself that once everything goes to hell, my torment is over.

My phone’s vibrating through my coat cut me off the carefree twirling around my craziness. "Mom" was flashing on the screen again, but by that point I couldn't be bothered for explanations. Still, the dialogue kept running automatically like a script inside my head.

"I just can't get you. Do you keep on acting unbothered by the world? Even now? Who are you trying to convince anymore, Olga? Me? Because I know you have roughened up out of fear".

Well, truth is I was actually fearing you would start with that kind of shit again.

"You are getting more and more difficult to talk to. You are basically denying something we both clearly see at this point".

We seem to say the same exact thing, ain't that something? I guess I was kinda doomed from the start to be and look just like you.

"You really do me dirty with all these conclusions you're drawing out of anger".

Okay, so what? Did you get upset?

"Why are you angry at me, Olga? Can I hear you say it, just for once?"

I don't have the time for this thing again, mother, I need to enjoy my remaining days over here.

"How much do you think this will last for you? When will you stop stalling and start looking after you and your future again, Olga?"

What future do I have, really, are you kidding me?

-Are you talking to yourself, ma'am?

I almost slipped out of the chair. I had never experienced such horror before. I was barely held off the bench to help me  get up again slowly with my heart sinking to my stomach, only to see a little girl with plaited pigtails looking at me half-frightened. She wasn't over nine years old, judging by the face and the childish dress she wore under this puffy purple coat.

-Why are you here? Where are your parents?

-Over here, come and take a look! But mom told me not to talk to strangers!

That of course made zero sense to me. Just like it made zero sense for a child to be left alone in a destroyed supermarket with the sun setting outside. I asked for the girl's name, nothing. I asked again, she hid her puzzled frown behind her pigtails trying to playfully imitate my posture with her hands on my waist.

-I'm Olga, I work here. And you?

She started to say something and suddenly changed her mind, running like hell to the back. I was confused thinking how would I look like to someone who saw me chasing a little girl in there, but then I reminded myself that probably nobody would be left to live to the end of this month, so I wouldn't be considered crazy for too long. I began running under the flickering ceiling lights and with each step I had to swallow my vomit. This little girl felt sorry for me in the end and stopped to wait for me at the end of the far right aisle, leaving one sleeve of her huge coat to stick out on purpose. I approached with an awkward smile and glanced at the strange grace she had on her face, with those weird baby hair that can't be caught for nothing in plaits pointing upwards. Despite my awkwardness, the girl stood unworried and expressionless as if I put her on timeout. I asked her name again. She slips away from a second time and runs like the wind, squealing something at lime while zigzagging the aisles.

-You should probably pick it up!

My phone was stabbing my pocket. It was "Mom" yet again, but I really wasn't in the mood for "Mama". I had to pick up my lungs from the floor at the top of my priorities, because this little devil wasn't running but galloping like a damn horse. I finally caught up with her in the aisle with the products of the day and tightly grabbed her by the shoulders. The little devil screamed and was banging her feet in pain. My hands had been too coarse for people after all this time.

-Hey, ma'am, did you get angry? I was just playing with you.

-I'm don't have time to play right now, please go to your mom.

-But I told you, My mom's right here.

"Where is "here"?

With just one finger sticking out of the sleeve, she pointed to the right middle shelf at the end of the aisle. She put her finger before her mouth to stop me from talking and I followed her on tiptoes. When we approached the end of the aisle and my eyes got used to the darkness I saw a woman laid inside the empty shelf. She was in her sixties and wearing an old black nightgown with holes on it. From her short hair down to her nails, there were ice flakes stuck everywhere as if she was just found buried in the snow. Her face with her eyes closed was carrying such an expression of pain and torment. I was so weirded out that something made me want to follow those ice streams that filled her skin's scratches with my fingers, however her body felt so stiff I jumped back. She looked more like a porcelain doll than an actual person.

-Ma'am Olga? Are you alright?

I threw up all the chocolate milk I drank. My body got the chills and my teeth were trembling so much that my breath was coming out in sharp puffs in front of the flickering lights of the refrigerators. I must have look like shit, because I scared the little girl for good and made her get five steps back from me while I was going crazy and trying to clear my eyes from the shock.

-Why is she here?

-Nobody wanted her. Nobody called to take her.

I didn't pay much attention. I pulled out my cherry ericsson to call for help, but the chaotic hum of the phone lines echoed in the aisle before I even put the phone to my ear.

-Who put her here?

She was just staring at me. I asked again and again. She let her lower lip half open. I grabbed her by the shoulders like before and she pulled out a choked scream due to my clumsiness. She started crying and feeling loose in my hands. It was then that I felt like something broke inside me and I crawled away from her because she would pass out in any second just by looking at the state that I was. I sat on the floor watching her wipe her tears from a distance, all while fixing her plaits and stressfully straightening the dress inside her coat. Every now and then she would throw these incoherent excerpts from conversations that seemed weirdly familiar, waiting for me to remember the answers I had given to each of the discussions. I felt sick, like my insides would explode at any moment. My mind was working overtime and I started seeing red. I understood, but I did not want to accept it.

"But how?" I was saying again and again. I can't just live through this stuff. I was thinking that maybe that's it, we are officially past this tomorrow. Maybe that was the end of the world and the time I had at my disposal. Only instead of cloud islands or pits with flames I was stuck inside this supermarket with a little girl and a dead woman. Was this fitting? Not really. It might be considered symbolic, but still not at all subtle. That's why I was stuffed with anger and distress. I couldn't digest what to feel after all that I saw. And what was the meaning of all of this? To make me feel remorse? To help me maybe? But how? So many questions hanging above my head I began to feel like I was melting from the uncertainty. Luckily, the little girl found some courage to pick me up from the floor.

-You still don't recognize her, do you?

-I recognized her just fine the first time.

-Are you sure, ma'am Olga?

-I don't know, what do you say?

-You tell me.

-We have to get out of here, kiddo. We can't get through it like this. Even now, with everything else going to hell with us.

-Do you really want me to come with you?

-I don't know. Maybe I want to, maybe I should.

The phone started screaming again. It was dimming "Mama" with small flakes of ice filling its broken tiny screen. The girl bent down and put this in my palm with no emotion on her face. I answered it. I waited for an eternity so thin you could fit it inside a moment like this. "Hello? Mom?". Eventually the same confusing static noise creaked from the other side of the call, and I stuck there waiting through the buzzing to find her smoker's coughing that she used to do before starting to complain about how I constantly forget about her. Waiting just to tell her that I was here, I was fine, and the world might not end there. Maybe, somewhere, somehow, there's even some future we can fit in it.

-So are we ready now, ma'am Olga?

-Ready for what?

She pointed at the banner hanging from the ceiling.

-Future ready.

I didn't catch my mother's voice at the other end of the line, of course. I hung up and weakly threw the phone on the shelf where the woman was laying, just to hear its dying snout. This felt way more fitting.

-Nah, not really. But it probably does not matter right now.

-But. I'm scared.

-I'm scared too, being in here and all.

-So when will we be back? When everything was normal again?

-"Normal" may no longer exist. We'll just have to see. For now, get up.

-You know better, ma'am.

-Ma'am my ass.

The little girl glanced just once at the self with the phone on and continue to walk with me, with her palm lost and warmed up somewhere inside my own palm. An analog clock on the wall pointed somewhere after nine o clock and the sky was bruised from the clouds that were pouring snow on everything around us. I put my hand with hers in the pocket of the miserable purple coat and lifted our hoods to escape the cold on the way home. I don't really remember how long we walked with our backs hunched over somewhere between the white and the gray. I only recall that we took the long way home, like a punishment of some sorts.

Thinking that I would never hear again the saltiness in my mom's voice was my most bitter torment. I never thought of such a possibility. I always had in the back of my mind that she would find a way to defy any rule of the universe, just so she could care for me. That's science fiction, after all. It seems I was holding on to my illusions for so long, so waking up hurts like hell even today. And if my mom died, I believe she must've left with that pain and concern during her last moments. "Look at me now", I catch myself saying here and there "I avoided her only until I had to mourn her". Until then, the only thing I had on my mind was working on what I should say when I would get asked about her, only to answer that we "fell off" with no emotion. What exactly happened to fall off with her would be like unnecessary little details. Still, to this day, that's exactly what I tell people when it's being brought up. I can't talk about it without sinking in remorse. I can't get the right words to come out anymore, not even by force.

Of course I tried to find her. Especially with the years that were to come upon me, I needed this to have my mind calibrated just to not go crazy over the batshit hysteria that was building up inside of me. Deep down, though, I knew I didn't have the courage to look at past trauma anymore, and I was secretly hoping I would never fine here. Maybe because the end of the world not coming anymore, at least as I thought it would, and now I have to live with it forever. Maybe because the worst that could have happened to me in the end was the postponement of the apocalypse. And this falls heavily on my shoulders to this day. Every day I have to justify why it was worth it to stay behind, either as punishment or by luck, trying to convince myself that there is something left to do with the leftovers of my future.

[ilovemesomekillianjones]

Good Things Come to Those Who Talk

It’s been a long time since I’ve written, but the muse visited this week, so here is a fluffy and smutty Captain Swan one shot. I’m sure this trope has been written one millions ways, here is one million and one. Hope you like it. Although I am not around as much as I used to be, CS still remains my OTP and always will. 

ao3          ffnet          rated M          8.9K

Summary:  Emma Swan is so over her brother, he warns every cop he knows to stay away from her. She's pined for so long though, she wants Killian Jones, it's just double bad luck that he's a cop and he happens to be David's partner. She decides her brother's wrath is worth the risk to find out if there's something more for her and Killian. Now all she needs is a new dress and a plan.

“Emma Swan, you little slut! What has gotten into you?” Ruby screeched as Emma pulled the door to her home open.

“Is it too much?” Emma asked with just a touch of hysteria coloring her voice. She hurried back to her bedroom to give herself the once over… again. Running her hands down the newly purchased, skin tight, black mini dress, she followed each and every curve that was on full display.

“Girl, I would do you if I didn’t already have a girlfriend.”

“Not helping, Ruby!” 

“Emma, you look fucking hot, there is not a man on earth that could turn you down in that.”

“That’s what I’m hoping for,” she mumbled under her breath. Tonight was the night. She’d danced around the longing and heat between her and Killian Jones for long enough. She’d been pining for this man for longer than she could remember, half the time they spent together felt like they were a couple anyway. She already knew her stupid brother, David, had warned Killian Jones to stay away from her, but there was nothing stopping her from putting the moves on Killian Jones. She just hoped Ruby was right, that no man would be able to resist her, including the one who’d been threatened with death if he so much as laid one finger on her. Emma was undeniably hoping for far more than one finger. A shiver jolted through her and she was brought back to the present.

“Someone’s got it baaaad,” Ruby teased. “You gonna make your move tonight?”

“That’s the plan,” Emma said as she grabbed her knee length black leather jacket and tied it closed. She pulled her flowing, golden tresses from the jacket and tossed them over her shoulders. 

“Well then let’s get this party started!” With that, Ruby grabbed Emma’s hand and pulled her back to the front of the house and out the door. 

The Rabbit Hole was their favorite local pub, and the only place to celebrate the hot shot detectives who’d made the biggest bust this city had ever seen. Of course it was the hot shot team of Detectives Nolan and Jones to bring down the infamous Robert “The Deal Maker” Gold and his outfit of miscreants. Earlier this morning, both men had received the Medal of Valor, for extraordinary acts of bravery and heroism, performed in the line of duty at extreme life-threatening, personal risk, their Captain had said. 

Emma remembered that day three weeks ago, when she’d received the call from her sister-in-law. The baby had been wailing in the background as Mary Margaret had tried to tell Emma, through choked sobs that David was in the hospital. No doubt the little guy had been so upset because his mama was having a justified meltdown. 

When Emma had arrived, Killian was in the waiting room, a little bloodied, bruised, and banged up, but he’d insisted on waiting for her before letting the doctors examine him. He’d wanted to let her know that David was in surgery, but he’d be okay, and Mary Margaret had just left to drop her two year old off at Belle’s so he didn’t have to wait in the ER. It wasn’t until Killian’s body had slumped against hers that Emma realized he wasn’t doing as well as he’d pretended. She’d found out later, Killian had been hit by Gold’s car as the fiend had tried to make a run for it. 

Emma doesn’t like to think about the panic she’d felt as he was hauled behind the swinging doors of the ER. She doesn’t like to remember the tears that had fallen when the thought that she’d never gotten to tell him how she felt for him, crossed her mind. She especially doesn’t like to think about how he’d been out of the hospital for three weeks now, and she’d still been too chicken shit to even ask him out on a date, let alone tell him that she’s crazy about him. 

Once Killian’s internal bleeding had stopped and he was cleared to go home, she’d helped him convalesce through a dislocated shoulder and severely bruised ribs. He’d gotten remarkably lucky considering he was hit by a car. Hours of flirting and bantering, movies on his couch, meals together, and she hadn’t scraped together the courage to tell him how she felt. She’d picked him up and attended the medal pinning with him today, and still she couldn’t find any words to tell him how she felt. When he’d come down off the stage, walked toward her and scooped her up into a bear hug, all she’d come up with was how proud she was of him. Even though it was true, there was so much more she wanted to say. And she’d known long before any of this had happened, she’d just never considered moving past her fear of rejection or risking their friendship for a chance at something more until she’d felt like she might lose him. 

That thought made her feel pretty shitty. But that’s when she’d decided a few things. Emma Swan was shit with words. Actions speak louder than words. Tonight was the night. And she needed a new dress. 

Taking a deep breath as the car pulled into the parking lot, to center her thoughts, fortify her determination, and get her collective shit together, Emma stepped out of Ruby’s car with something akin to hope.   

Upon entering the noisy bar, she searched for the woman who’d be lending her an assist tonight. Regina and her husband Robin, a retired police officer, now owned this bar. They were close personal friends with Emma’s brother’s family, as David’s former partner, and by extension, with the whole group. Regina would be the one taking care of their party tonight. Emma needed to square some drinking details away with the woman and then she’d be mission ready. After talking to Regina, she glanced around the crowded bar, searching for the man of the hour. Whatever confidence or hope had been building, promptly deflated as she located Killian, only to find him sitting at the bar with some handsy redhead whispering in his ear. 

“Emma!” She heard Mary Margaret’s voice call out from across the bar, but she couldn’t turn, she was transfixed, watching as the woman ran a finger along Killian’s jawline. It gave her just an ounce of pleasure when he removed her hand from his vicinity and placed it on the bar. The mystery woman was undeterred though as she placed her hand on his chest next. 

Mary Margaret called her name again, louder this time, and Emma noticed it caught Killian’s attention as he began to scan the bar. When his eyes met hers, they immediately lit up and he mouthed the word help, with desperation in his every feature. Emma’s confidence restored, she sashayed toward him with renewed determination. 

Goddamn, she thought as she appreciated how Killian’s royal blue button down shirt and black slacks were tailored to his body.  She bit down on her lip when she noted that he definitely had his customary one too many buttons undone and was displaying that magically delicious thatch of chest hair she’d imagined running her hands through just a couple times. Sauntering right in between the two, she settled in the spot of his perpetually manspread legs and placed her palms on his thighs, leaving her back to the other woman.

“Hey Sexy, where’ve you been all my life?” she asked in the sexiest tone she could muster while also trying not to crack up as she laid it on thick for the woman trying to steal her man. What?

“Right here, waiting for you, love,” Killian answered, wrapping an arm around her waist. The man didn’t miss a beat. 

Emma couldn’t be bothered to feel bad as she rubbed her palms over his muscular thighs which currently rested on her hips. She had a mission tonight, and this floozy behind her had been throwing herself at Killian.

“I’m so lucky someone didn’t come and scoop you up before I got here.”

Emma almost melted when he came right back with, “No one else is you.”

She knew this man, had known him for several years. She knew when he was playing a long con, when he was bullshitting, when he was joking, when he was serious, and when he was sincere. Her heartbeat stuttered as his earnest expression dared her to believe him. Just at that moment, the drinks Killian had ordered arrived. “Come on,” she said, grabbing the three beer bottles in one hand and taking his hand in her other. 

“Let me order a couple more, now that the rest of you are here.”

Emma leaned in to whisper in his ear, “And leave you at the mercy of Hands, I don’t think so.” If she wasn’t mistaken, Killian actually shivered, and she wondered how bad it had gotten before she’d arrived. When she stepped back though, she noticed a bright flush along Killian’s cheeks, and she wondered if she wasn’t causing that shiver and blush. “I’ll order when the server comes around.” 

Emma was positively rippling with anticipation of what Killian would think of her dress as they walked over to the private room Mary Margaret had reserved for tonight. The bar had several private rooms off each corner of the bar, they were a little less noisy, and perfect for celebratory drinks. This one had a large round booth and table in it, so Emma slid in next to her brother, pulling Killian in behind her. Strategically speaking, she was hoping David couldn’t stare daggers at Killian from this angle, like he always did when Emma and Killian were hanging out and getting too close for his comfort. She didn’t need her stupid brother ruining her plans.

“Here love, you can have this beer,” Killian offered as they sat down.

“That’s okay, I can wait for the server.” Emma was not in the mood to get drunk, at least not drunk for real. “Are Will and Belle still coming tonight?” Emma asked as she untied her jacket and leaned forward to take it off while still seated in the confines of the booth. 

Killian audibly choked on the swig of beer he’d been taking when he caught a glimpse of all the skin Emma was now showing. One false move and there could be a nip slip, really.

“Hey, Jones, you okay there buddy? Emma, quick, give him mouth to mouth, he’s choking,” she harassed. 

Emma shot her a look before slapping Killian on the back a couple times. “My ribs,” he croaked once he’d finished hacking and coughing. 

Emma preened as she noticed he still hadn’t taken his eyes off her. “You gonna be okay?” she asked, turning fully toward Killian as she soothingly rubbed her hand along his rib cage.

“Love your new dress, Ems,” Ruby exclaimed, adding fuel to multiple fires.

“New dress? Are you sure you got the whole thing?” David fumed. “Looks more like a tank top to me. And yes, to answer your question from before, Will and Belle are coming, their Lyft was running late.”

Emma looked over her shoulder to scowl at her brother, and he scowled right back. “I happen to like this dress, David,” she said, saying his name as pettily as any sister could, “what about you Killian. Do you like my new dress?”

Killian’s hand immediately shot up to scratch behind his ear, but before he could even speak a word, David leaned forward, peered around Emma and stared those oh so familiar daggers at Killian. 

“Oh stop it, David,” Mary Margaret chided her husband. 

“Oi mates, hope you didn’t start the party without me,” Will shouted as he and Belle entered the room. He and Belle scooted into the booth next to Ruby and Mulan, and Emma was thankful they’d arrived before David could start ranting about not wanting his sister to date a cop.  

Emma, Mary Margaret, Belle, and Ruby had all been promised a play by play of the Gold bust now that the case was finalized, Gold had been sentenced, and everyone was healed. Will and Mulan hadn’t been injured, but they’d been part of the task force, and instrumental in the take down. Emma tried not to concentrate too hard on the fact that she was the only female here who wasn’t technically a significant other. Besides, maybe that would change after tonight.  

A round of shots was ordered to start the evening and Regina brought them to the table, handing a shot of rum to each guest. They toasted to the takedown of the felon who had run rampant like a virus, for far too long. The story was intense to be sure, and a second round of shots was ordered to toast the health and safety of David, Killian, Mulan, and Will.  

When the live band started, they headed for the dance floor and Emma was thankful to have a bit of privacy, albeit in the middle of a crowded dance floor, with Killian. “You cut quite the figure in that dress,” he whispered into her ear. 

The band was covering a latin number and Emma melted as Killian pulled her in close. His left hand was on the small of her back and the other held her free hand. Her free hand rested on his chest, right at the juncture of his too unbuttoned shirt. 

“I don’t know exactly how to do this… dance,” Emma mumbled as Killian began to move his feet. They were connected at their hips as they swayed with the beat. 

“It’s called a mambo; there’s only one rule, pick a partner who knows what he’s doing.”

She’d danced with him before and it never ceased to amaze her how well the man could move his body. If he was this fluid and skilled while dancing, what could he do in bed? 

“I can see your mind working, Swan. What are you thinking about?”

Emma tried to stop the blush, but she’d definitely been caught ogling him. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“Perhaps I would,” he admitted while sweeping a lock of her hair behind her ear. “You are blushing,” he added as he trailed the finger down her cheek.

“I was just thinking, if you’re this good on the-” Emma’s breath was knocked from her as David and Mary Margaret careened into them. 

“Hey guys,” David shouted over the music, “time for shots.”

Emma just barely stopped herself from yelling at her brother to stop being a cockblock. Instead, she settled for stomping on his foot as she led Killian off the dancefloor. They all lined up at the bar and Regina doled out more shots. 

“I’m ready to go home,” Emma slurred into Killian’s shoulder several hours later. “Take me home?”

“Aye, love.”

“I thought Ruby was your ride,” David interrupted.

“No can do, Davey,” Ruby mumbled. “Me and my baby are staying at the hotel across the street so we don’t have to drive and we don’t have to come back for the car tomorrow. 

“We will take you home,” David proclaimed, as if someone had died and made him king.

“That’s ridiculous, we’re already taking Belle and Will home,” Mary Margaret told her husband. “Killian hasn’t been drinking for the last two hours, he can take Emma home.”

“Bu-” David started.

“I know we have five seats, but we don’t need to squish five adults into them, when Killian can give Emma a ride.”

Emma snickered at the way Mary Margaret effortlessly handled David.

“That’s what I’m worried about,” David muttered. 

After the group said their goodbyes, Emma let Killian lead her to his truck. She pretended to need much more help getting in than she really did. Under the guise of being drunk, Emma found she was much braver. If he turned her down, she could always pretend she was so drunk she didn’t remember, and if he was a gentleman, which he was, he’d never mention it. 

Reaching across the space between them, Emma brushed the hair away from his forehead. “I was so worried about you when you were in the hospital,” she whispered, making sure to slur a word here and there.

“I’m sorry I worried you, lass, but you needn’t worry about me.”

“I do worry about you, Killian. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Well, in your inebriated state, I’m sure it’s hard to imagine, but I am sure you’d manage.”

“What a horrible thing to say! I would not be okay if I lost you, I would never be okay.”

Killian clasped his hand over hers, which had been idly stroking his cheek. “Shhh, love, there’s no need to discuss this topic anyway. If there is one thing I am good at, it’s surviving.” 

Killian pulled into her driveway and hastily exited to help her down from the truck. She definitely put more weight on him than was strictly necessary and sloppily handed him the keys to unlock her door. 

“Someone is going to be feeling like shite in the morning,” Killian laughed. 

Emma played it up, and allowed Killian to get Tylenol and water for her as she stripped out of her dress and hopped into her bed. 

“Call me if you need anything, yeah?” he checked as he set her hangover supplies on her nightstand.

Emma caught his hand as he went to put it in his pocket. “Stay with me?”

“I shouldn’t.”

“Please,” Emma asked sweetly, looking up at him with all the hope she felt inside written clearly on her face.

Killian exhaled a long sigh as only a man who knows he’s lost can. Circling around the bed, he started to climb in behind her. 

“You’re not going to sleep in jeans, are you?”

“I don’t exactly have sleepwear at my disposal, Swan. And you’re sleeping in your dress.”

Emma laughed at that, that’s what he thinks. “Take off your jeans, boxer briefs are just like shorts.” She grinned triumphantly as she heard the metal of his belt and the rustling of pants being dropped. 

Once he was settled in her bed, she turned over and snuggled against him. The groan he emitted when she did so shot a bolt of heat straight to her core. She knew he was just as affected as she was, and that was hot. 

“Emma, please, you’re making it very hard fo-”

“That’s kinda the point,” she giggled, pressing her body against his and snaking her free hand into the opening of his shirt to rake it through his chest hair. 

“Fuck me,” he muttered.

“Yeah?” 

“Poor choice of words,” he corrected as he scooted away from her advances. “We can’t do this.”

Emma immediately felt the sting of his words in her chest, like someone was gripping her heart, or worse, like someone had taken it and she was hollow. A flurry of emotions ran through her as she tried to assure herself she still had her failsafe of “being drunk”. She searched for words. “Why? Because of my stupid brother?” she demanded, her voice a little more watery than angry.

“This has nothing to do with your brother, Swan.”

“Then… why?” Emma sat up in bed and pulled the blankets tightly around her body, as if they’d protect her from whatever hurtful reason he had for not wanting her.

“Because you’re drunk and-”

“Well-” Emma interrupted.

“No, wait, let me finish. Before I lose my nerve.”

Emma frowned at him, but complied by sitting quietly.

“You’ve been drinking all night love, and I would never forgive myself if I took advantage of you in this state and then you regretted it in the morning, if you regretted me. I… I’m crazy about you Emma, I have been for a long time. I don’t want a drunken one night stand with you, hell, I don’t want any kind of one night stand with you. I want… more.”

“Why didn’t you ever say anything?” she asked softly.

“Short answer? I’m a coward.”

“What if I want to know the extended version?” she asked as she patted the seat next to her and offered him part of the blankets so he could join her.

Killian got back into the bed and sat up against the headboard as Emma was. “I guess I’ve hid behind your brother’s warning to stay away from you. I mean, he’s not wrong, it can be a hard life being with a cop. Look what happened with Gold. I also worried about jeopardizing our friendship, especially if you didn’t feel the same way about me.”

“Why now?”

Killian chuckled before answering her. “You being drunk gives me the courage to say how I feel, because you might not even remember this in the morning.” 

Emma dropped all pretense of being inebriated and leaned forward so she was looking straight into the depths of the eyes she dreamed about almost nightly. “Let’s get something straight, okay? I could never regret you, Killian Jones.” Placing a hand softly on his cheek, she smiled at the awestruck look on his face. “And also, I haven’t had a drink all night. I paid Regina to fill my shots with apple juice. I just needed the cover of liquid courage to try and seduce you because I am shit with words. And I figured if you didn’t feel the same, I could always pretend that I didn’t remember the next day.”

Killian’s warm laughter startled her a bit, but then she was laughing with him. “I usually have a flair with words, Swan, you just do something to me that brings me to my basest form. I’m a goner for you, and I wish I’d have told you sooner.”

“Well, get used to me not being great with words. I’m sort of caveman-like. I mean, I’m not gonna point and grunt, but I definitely use action over words. But if I can paraphrase a great wordsmith, ‘I’m crazy about you, Killian, I have been for a long time’.”

The smile that lit up Killian’s face, dimples and all, was worth the hell she was going to go through with David. 

“In the spirit of full disclosure, I never got a chance to answer you at the bar. I love your new dress, may I see it again,” he asked, gently tugging at the blankets she’d wrapped around herself for protection a few moments ago.

“Hmmm, sorry, not right now...” Killian immediately dropped his hand from the blanket and began to tell her it’s okay, when she peeled away the blanket, and continued, “because I’m not wearing it anymore.” 

“Fuck me,” he murmured before biting down on his lip hungrily.

“Still the plan.” 

♡~♥~♡~♥~♡

“Stand up, love, let me see you.”

Emma complied, standing up and bearing herself to him. She was clad in nothing more than lacy, black panties and a matching bra. Watching as he perused every inch of her body, from the swell of her breasts, to her lean torso and soft belly, then down to the apex of her thighs, she could see his length swelling under his boxer briefs, and every part of her wanted him. Crooking her finger, she beckoned him to her, and it was his turn to comply. 

Once Killian stood before her, Emma unbuttoned the remainder of his shirt and pushed it off his shoulders, to the floor. Then she did something that shocked her a little bit, she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulled him close and just held him; he immediately reciprocated, both arms encircling her and bringing her close. The feelings they’d just spoken floated around them and  flowed between them.

Threading her fingers into his hair, she guided his mouth to hers and kissed him, softly and exploratorily at first. But as lips gave way to caressing tongues, and roaming hands, heat built and Emma found herself panting and breathless.

Killian unclasped her bra and pulled it away and she was never more grateful for that barrier to be gone, as his chest hair delicately tightened her nipples and sent sparks shooting to her core. She wanted more and made it known by grabbing his ass with both hands and hauling him firmly to her. Killian glided his hands down her back and over her firm ass while sucking a nipple into his mouth. She moaned his name at the sensation of his wet mouth laving at her breasts, and his fingers and palms caressing the smooth expanse of her ass. Emma wanted that last barrier gone, she reached between them to remove first her panties and then finally his boxer briefs.  

She was not disappointed when she finally got a look at what her Detective was packing. Emma licked her lips as his cock stood at full attention, straining with the need to be touched.

“See something you like, darling?” 

There was that hint of cockiness that she loved so much. “Yeah,” she breathed as she dropped to her knees. Wrapping her hand around the base of his cock, Emma stroked up and down a few times, relishing in the hiss that left Killian’s mouth. When his head dropped back, she pounced, taking him deep and swallowing once, before pulling back and then setting a slow rhythmic pace.

Killian lifted her from her knees and attacked her mouth with kisses, between trying to speak, “You don’t have to do that.”

Emma pulled her head back to stare at this man in front of her. What guy turns down head? “I know I don’t have to, I was enjoying myself,” she said, then she pushed into his frame, guiding him backwards until he could sit at the edge of the bed. She dropped to her knees again, and  smirked before descending on him once more, but before she could even set a rhythm, he was halting her ministrations again.

“Okay, that’s twice. What’s up, Jones? Do you not enjoy getting head? Do I suck at it, and not in the good way?” Emma sat back on her calves, folding her arms around herself.  

“On the contrary, you are magnificent at sucking my cock, Emma.”

She grinned mischievously at the compliment, a swarm of relief flooding her mind. “Then what gives?”

“I haven’t...” Killian trailed off, and an actual blush colored his cheeks as he tried to find the words he was looking for. 

Emma put her hands on his knees and gently squeezed. “What is it? You can tell me.”

“I haven’t been with anyone in a while, I’ve kind of been saving myself for this brilliant lass I know. Plus, I’ve been hard since you took your jacket off at the bar and I don’t wish to finish before you,” he admitted. He rubbed nervously behind his ear as he waited for her reaction.

Emma was a little speechless. At no point in her life had she ever been with a man who was so dedicated to her gratification, he would deny his own. She’d definitely never been halted in the middle of a blow job so that her needs could be met. She stood up, taking Killian with her and then turned them around so that she could lie down on the bed. Holding her hand out to him, she pulled him down next to her and then scooted so that they were laying face to face. “Make me come, Killian.”

Needing no further guidance, Killian captured her lips in a fiery kiss while situating her on her back. Their tongues slid together effortlessly until he broke the kiss to blaze a trail down her body. She would definitely have marks, but he was careful to leave them where only they would see. As he paid special attention to her breasts again, delighting way too much in the noises she made, Emma finally caved, begging for more.

Scooting down between her legs, Killian took stock of the pretty picture splayed out for him. “Absolutely gorgeous,” he murmured. Ever so gently, he ran the tip of his finger along her glistening folds, parting them as his finger ran further down, exposing her clit to the cool air. 

“Please Killian, touch me.”

“As you wish.” 

Emma keened in half relief and half need as his tongue finally made contact with her clit. She thrust her hips, needing nothing short of penetration, and again, she was obviously hoping for more than just one finger. She wasn’t disappointed when Killian filled her with two digits as he worked her clit with his tongue.

Emma fisted a handful of Killian’s dark hair as he brought her a pleasure like none she’d experienced before. It was hot as hell to have him watching her with those devilish blue eyes gazing up from between her thighs as she fucked his fingers. 

Emma had never been much of a talker in bed, but she found it easy with Killian to ask for more, to ask for it harder, and because of that, he had her falling over the edge of oblivion quickly.

“Get up here, now,” she panted, once her mind came back from the haze of post orgasmic delight.

“Gods, you taste divine,” he praised as he moved over her body, settling between her legs so they were face to face.

“You are really good at that, better than I could ever have imagined.”

“Oh, Emma,” he began as he sucked her bottom lip into his mouth and bit down gently before letting it go, “do elaborate on ‘imagined’,” he smirked before grinding his hips down so his thick length slid through her folds and over her clit. 

A breathy moan rushed past her lips as he teased her. “Yeah? You want to hear all about how I get myself off while thinking of you?”

“Aye, lass, tell me.”

“Mmmmm, sometimes it’s quick and dirty, fucking my fingers, wishing they were yours. Other times I imagine you bend me over your desk at the precinct and take me roughly. But the best is edging while wondering if you’re lying in bed thinking about me, stroking your hard cock. I always finally make myself come, pleading your name as I picture you making yourself come all over your chest, calling out my name.”

“Christ, Emma, I’m going to come all over your chest if you tell me any more.”

In a flash of motion, Emma flipped them so she was on top, staring down at Killian. “We can’t have that.” Leaning down, she kissed him roughly, demanding his tongue, while situating his cock so she could sink down on it. “Oh… fuck you feel so good,” she gasped as his full length hit a depth she’d never felt without toys. Her hands found purchase on his chest as she adjusted to his size. 

She let Killian set the pace after he grasped both her hips and guided her along. He was mesmerized by the way his cock slid in and out of her wet heat. “You feel so good wrapped around me,” he praised.

Killian pulled her down for a kiss again, and flipped them so he was on top. Emma whined as he withdrew from her completely and sat back on his haunches. “I’ve just realized I don’t have a condom,” he said defeatedly.

“That’s okay, I’m on the pill and I’m clean. You clean?”

“Aye, lass. On my honor.”

“Then put every inch of that cock back inside me,” she demanded as she pulled him back into the cradle of her thighs.

Emma laughed lightly as Killian groaned loudly while pushing back into her. “Just so you know, love, this feels so much better than any time I’ve ever taken myself in hand while thinking of you. And I always come with your name on my lips.” 

Her answering smile turned into a low moan as Killian pulled out and then thrust back home. He changed the tempo, long deep passes, quick pounding thrusts, grinding his hips into her sometimes, and pumping shallowly others. She made sure to let him know what felt good and what felt better, and especially what was, “Oh fuck, yes, right there!” 

Despite never having been together before, the combination of Emma knowing what she liked,  being comfortable enough to ask for it, and Killian listening to her and taking care of her, had them riding the same wave, feeling, exploring, loving. 

In the end, Killian had both her legs pulled up high around his waist, arms under her shoulders, and his face buried in the crook of her neck as he methodically drove into her, determined to make her come again. 

Emma had her legs wrapped tightly around his torso, her arms around his neck, and her head thrown back into the pillow. They were a hot sweaty mess, and she was sure she’d never been wound this tight, she’d never been this turned on,maybe there was something to sex with feelings. His hot breath against her neck caused a tightness in her nipples and a tingling in her clit. Killian’s thrusts were punishing, hitting her deep, and she was so close and she knew he was close and she really wanted to come again.  

“Touch yourself, Emma, I want to feel you come all over my cock.”

An errant bit of relief flooded her as she realized Killian was not intimidated in asking for what he wanted either and he wasn’t too macho to ask her to help get them there. Now was not the time for reflection though, and so she pushed those delightful thoughts to an area for later. Reaching down between them, Emma gathered the arousal that coated her thighs and started rubbing her fingers over her clit. “Almost, Killian, almo- Oh, Ooooh,” Emma cried. 

It was almost ridiculous how in sync they were, each gracing the edge of ecstasy before plummeting off one after the other, calling the other’s name like a benediction. She’d been right, his moves on the dance floor had definitely foreshadowed his performance in bed. And just like the attentive gentleman he was day-to-day, he was the same in bed, making sure to guide her through every aftershock, and hold her as she came down from on high. 

“Bloody Hell, why did we wait so long to do this?” Killian panted against her neck, before rolling off of her. “Come here,” he said, pulling Emma against his side. 

Instead of nestling into him, Emma stood up and stretched deliciously. “So, I guess, I’ll umm... see you around?” A mixture of shock, disappointment, and embarrassment crossed his face before he quickly jumped out of bed. The look was priceless, she really did feel heartless, but she couldn’t resist teasing him a little. 

“Right, love,” he mumbled as he turned from her and grabbed his slacks off the floor.  

Emma tiptoed behind him and circled her arms around his waist, his whole body was taught. “I’m fucking with you, Jones,” she said gently, pressing her cheek to his back. “Join me for a shower?” As his body relaxed, she placed a few kisses between his shoulder blades causing him to shiver. 

He turned in her arms and took her mouth in a hungry kiss. “You are a devilish little minx, aren’t you?”

“I couldn’t resist,” she mumbled into his mouth. “Come on, let’s go get clean… and dirty.”

“Do you promise to tell me more dirty little fantasies?”

A blush ran up her body as she remembered telling Killian her favorite fantasy about him. 

“Don’t get shy now. For someone who says they’re shite with words, you were certainly very chatty in bed.

“Oh my gosh, Killian.” She rolled her eyes and smacked his chest as mortification coursed through her. She grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the shower, but found herself being swung back into his chest.

Killian wrapped his arms around her middle and pressed his front to her back in a sensual embrace. “Don’t you dare ever feel ashamed to tell me exactly what you want, love. If you want it harder,” he thrust his hips against her ass to elaborate, “if you want it deeper,” he growled, sucking at the lobe of her ear, “if you want my mouth between your thighs…”

Emma moaned as Killian continued rutting his hips against her ass and caressing her with his strong hands. She hung on his every word.

“If you want to watch me stroke my cock,” he said huskily, “just say the words.”

“Fuck, Killian. I want you to fuck me again,” she responded breathily. Taking his hand and pulling him toward the shower again, she met no resistance this time. 

Reaching into the shower she turned the water on full blast and then turned around and jumped into his arms and wrapped her legs around his waist to kiss him while they waited for it to warm up. 

He took her again, against the wall of her shower, then they made out until the water began to cool, before they both fell into bed, sated and exhausted.

♡~♥~♡~♥~♡

Emma hummed happily as she stood at the stove making pancakes. Killian was still sound asleep in her bed, the hint of a smile playing at his lips, and a hard case of morning wood if the slight tent of the sheets was anything to judge by. As much as she’d wanted to wake him up with salacious activities, she’d also wanted to let him sleep in. So she’d silently slipped into her black silk robe and headed to the kitchen to make coffee and breakfast. Her mind kept jumping to different parts of their evening together, and how much she hoped for a repeat performance.

An unadulterated smile broke out across her face when Killian’s husky voice broke through her morning musings. “Something smells delicious.”

The way he nuzzled into her made her weak in the knees as she protested the compliment. “It’s just from a box.”

“Mmm,” he hummed against her ear, “I’m not talking about the pancakes.”

Emma spun in his arms and leaned up on her tiptoes to kiss him. Her mind was spinning, it was a little shocking to her that she wasn’t panicking at all about how much they’d discussed last night and how deep their feelings ran for each other. She realized she wasn’t afraid because what they had was worth taking the risk for. Breaking the kiss, she peered into his beautiful blue eyes. Eyes full of emotions that she knew mirrored her own. And the absolutely boyish grin gracing his face made her heart soar. 

“What?” he asked as she continued gazing at him.

“Nothing, I’m just... happy.” 

“Aye, love, me too.”

Emma leaned in to kiss him again, this time parting her mouth and begging entrance to his as she stroked the seam of his lips with her tongue. “To hell with the pancakes,” she muttered when he opened to her, tongues tangling together. Carding her fingers through his hair, only their breathing and wet kisses filled the air as she pushed him back toward the table until he was sitting with her nestled between his legs.

 Untying her robe, Killian caressed his hands up and down the lush skin of her torso before greedily pulling her against him, showing her how ready she had him, not that it was hard to tell through his boxer briefs.

“I smell pancakes. I thought we were eating on the way to the zoo?” a masculine voice said, cutting through the moment. 

“David!” Emma gasped.

“Your brother has a key, good to know,” Killian muttered. Emma dropped her head into Killian’s shoulder, willing this to be a dream. That was quickly shattered when she heard Mary Margaret’s voice. 

“Are we interrupting something,” Mary Margaret asked, eyes wide as saucers and a smirk begging to be let out. 

“EmEm! Killy!” little Leo cooed. 

David’s hands had immediately found his hips, as they quite often did before interrogating a suspect. Although the look on his face looked more like he was preparing to beat a perp. “What the… I mean… What’s go- Why the hell is he- Goddammit!” he roared, throwing his hands up in the air, and the toddler snuggled in Mary Margaret’s arms immediately started crying at his father’s outburst. “I thought I said she was off limits?”

“Hey!” Mary Margaret and Emma both yelled. As Emma stepped away from Killian to give her brother a piece of her mind, Killian quickly grabbed her wrist and pulled her back. Neither missed the huff of exasperation from David, but both ignored it. Killian quickly folded Emma’s robe over and tied it closed before giving her an attempted wink.

She smiled that happy smile at him before returning a scowl to her brother. “I am not a possession, David. You’re not my father, you’re not my husband, and you’re not my keeper! You don’t get to tell me who I can and cannot be with.” She was outright yelling as she finished.

“I’m not,” he boomed. “I’m telling Killian he can’t be with you. I don’t want you with a cop, Emma!”

“Why is being with a cop good enough for your wife, the one you share a love so pure with and would lay down your life for, but being with a cop isn’t okay for me?”

“It’s not like that, Emma,” David argued.

“Oh yeah? Then what’s it like? I’m dying to understand,” she retorted.

“I’m just trying to protect you.”

“From what?” When David made no move to answer, she shouted her question louder at him. “From what!?” 

“Daddy, EmEm, no fight,” Leo cried. 

“Emma,” Killian called softly and she turned to look at his calming blue eyes. He was quite the site, clad only in his skivvies, both hands strategically placed over his package. “Let’s get dressed. You both could use a minute to calm down.”

“That’s a great idea,” Mary Margaret piped in. “Take five, we’ll finish making breakfast. You still have that leftover ham from the other night?”

Emma nodded at her sister-in-law, then she and Killian headed toward her bedroom.

“Where are you going, Jones,” David seethed.

“Where the fuck do you think his clothes are, David,” Emma cursed.

Once in the bedroom, Killian pulled Emma into his arms. “Hey, we are going to make him understand, okay. There’s no reason to fight with him. Let’s make him understand. Hear him out, whatever his reasons, and then show him why he’s wrong.” 

“No, Killian. He’s being an absolute dick. He has no right to tell me what to do. And I hate whatever his reasons are. I don’t care.”

Killian placed a hand on each of her cheeks and looked into her eyes, before planting a soft kiss to her lips. “Yes you do, love. And we can figure this out.”

Admittedly, some of her anger faded as Killian talked of understanding and explaining and communication. She walked to her dresser and pulled out one of his old t-shirts she’d borrowed at a party at his place. 

“You still have this?” he chuckled.

“It smelled like you for a long time after I borrowed it, I like sleeping in it.” 

“That party was over a year ago,” he mused.

“I told you, I’ve wanted…,” she paused, trying to find a better word for how she’d felt for so long. “I’ve really liked you for a long time, Killian.”

He slipped the t-shirt over his head before descending on her and kissing her fully. “Maybe almost for as long as I’ve fancied you.”

She just giggled at that, hugging him for fortification before taking his hand and heading back out into the battle zone.

“Wait, I still don’t have pants.”

Emma led him to the guest room.“David and Mary Margaret keep extra clothes here for when they don’t decide early enough who is going to be designated driver.”

“I don’t think Mary Margaret’s pants will fit me, darling.”

“Shut up you goofball,” she laughed as she threw him a pair of David’s sweatpants.

“Let’s sit down and eat, and discuss this like adults,” Mary Margaret, always the mother, ordered everyone when Emma and Killian emerged. 

She’d finished cooking the pancakes, whipped up a batch of scrambled eggs, and was just finishing frying up the leftover ham. David was pouring a round of coffee for everyone and holding Leo who was happily babbling now that he had a pancake in his hand and no one was yelling.

After strapping the baby into the portable high chair they kept at Emma’s place, everyone sat down at the table and dug into breakfast. 

“Can you just tell me what you think you’re protecting me from?” Emma asked. “I mean you trust Killian with your life, literally. Why don’t you trust him with my heart?”

David’s stoic expression lightened at that. “Does he have your heart, Emma?”

Killian glanced toward Emma and smiled knowingly. They didn’t need to call it love right this instant, but they were definitely invested in each other. 

“Answer the question, dear,” Mary Margaret prodded. “Otherwise they don’t have the truth, because trusting Killian has nothing to do with it, and you know it.”

“Fine,” David sighed. “You dealt with abandonment by your own parents, by every subsequent foster parent, by the only friend you made as a child, who turned out to be a fraud, and then with Neal’s betrayal, which almost broke you. I don’t want you to ever experience that abandonment again.” David’s voice broke as he finished explaining. Tears rimmed his eyes as he contemplated even trying to understand what she’d been through. And he would be damned before it happened again, especially by someone who he’d introduced into her life. 

“What?” Emma asked incredulously. “That has everything to do with trusting Killian,” she argued. “Why do you assume he’d abandon me.”

Leo quieted as the tension between siblings started to grow again and Mary Margaret looked around the table, jaw clenched and a warning in her eyes to every adult at the table to not upset her baby again. 

Killian placed his hand over Emma’s white knuckles where her fist lay balled up on the table. “I don’t think he means I would intentionally leave you, Swan.”

Emma looked between her brother and Killian, a confused furrow cocking her brows. 

David chuckled, “See, he gets it.”

“Explain, David. Make her understand where you’re coming from,” his wife urged him.

Wait, Emma thought, it was supposed to be the other way around. She was supposed to be making him understand why she and Killian were a good, no great, thing. Before she could speak though, David started up again.

“Emma, you really think no one sees how much you two are into each other? You really think for almost two years, no one has watched the way you pine for each other, flirt off the charts, tease each other like kids on a playground? You’re like an old married couple half the time, we’d have to be blind not to see it. Killian is a good man, I understand he’d never purposefully hurt you, he’d have to deal with me if he did. But you have to understand that officers die in the line of duty all the time. Being with one means you accept that risk. I couldn’t bear the thought of you losing one more person you loved, especially if it was someone I brought into your life.”

A tear or two trailed down Emma’s cheeks as she listened to her brother. As she really heard what he was saying. For the first time, she understood where he was coming from. It finally made sense why he didn’t want her being with a cop. And it relieved her mind that it had nothing to do with Killian personally, especially because she wasn’t giving him up. 

“EmEm, you sad?” Leo asked.

A small laugh turned cry-hiccup escaped Emma’s mouth. “No baby, I’m happy,” she smiled. 

Leo clapped his hands, his innocent celebration of an adult human being happy, bringing a smile to everyone’s face. 

Emma unfurled her balled up fist under Killian’s comforting hand and interlaced their fingers, giving him a strong smile. “David, while I am thankful that you explained your reason for not wanting me with Killian and I even understand where you’re coming from, I could walk outside tomorrow and get hit by a bus. There are no guarantees in this life.”

David nodded his head as he glanced between her face and her and Killian’s intertwined fingers. 

“He has my heart, David, would you deny us that?”

David sat back in his chair and folded his arms over his chest as he often did when contemplating something. After a full minute, at least, he exhaled a breath bespeaking acceptance, albeit reluctantly. “I’m beginning to see that. And I could never deny you happiness, Emma.” 

Emma beamed at her brother, understanding that while his actions may have been off kilter the reasoning behind them was fueled by brotherly love. 

Mary Margaret leaned over and kissed her husband on the cheek before flashing Emma and Killian a smile. “Glad we got this settled,” she giggled.

“So, just what are your intentions toward my sister, Jones?”

Emma scoffed loudly, rolling her eyes at David’s attempt at big brother intimidation tactics. But when she heard Killian’s answer, she was kinda thankful to her brother.

“Well Dave, whatever happens between me and Emma is as much up to her as it is me. But I’m in this for the long haul if she’ll have me.”

“Good answer, partner,” David laughed as he threw his hand out across the table in an offer to shake Killian’s. “Two rules,” he added as he squeezed Killian’s hand tighter, “you are never allowed to kiss and tell around me, and if you hurt her, I’ll kill you.” 

Killian let David have his moment of brotherly protection, because he understood how important it was to cherish Emma. He was the one who’d fancied her for almost two years after all. 

“All right, enough of that,” Mary Margaret sighed as she wiped Leo’s hands and face. “Let’s get everything cleaned up, and then we are headed to the zoo as planned. Emma you are free to bail, you and Killian probably have a lot of catching up to do for the last year and a half.” 

Emma waggled her eyebrows at her sister-in-law and Killian had the good sense to not dispense with his usual abundance of innuendos, while David just cast the evil eye at his wife. 

“What,” Mary Margaret asked, holding her hands up in mock innocence and confusion, “what’d I say?”

“Ga-dammen!” Leo shouted and every head whipped around to look at the little boy as he tugged helplessly at the lap belt of the high chair. “Up, up,” he pleaded. 

“Way to go, dear, looks like he’ll have your charming vocabulary,” Mary Margaret scolded her husband.

Not having any kids of their own had Emma and Killian struggling not to bellow out loud at the little guys antics. 

“No, no, Leo,” David told his son as he unbuckled the lap belt and picked him up. “That’s a… that’s a daddy word.”

“David! What kind of lesson is that?”

Emma and Killian just looked at each other and started cracking up. “So what do you say? Stay in or join these crazy kids at the zoo?” Emma asked Killian.

“Are you asking me out on a date?” 

“Yes, that’s exactly what I am doing,” Emma deadpanned. “I’m asking you out on a date with me, my brother, his wife and kid, and the monkeys too.”

“Sounds delightful as long as you’ll be there,” Killian answered as he pulled her into his embrace and pecked her lips. 

“Hey, let’s just take it slow,” David interrupted, “I’m not quite there yet.”

“Oh relax, she’s 28, not 16, they’ve obviously already done the deed, how are you going to get squirmy over a hug?” 

“Not helping!” David pleaded with his wife, rubbing his temples in a soothing motion. 

“He’s such a baby,” Mary Margaret cracked up. “How about you guys meet us there? No rush,” she added conspiratorially. 

“For fuck’s sake, do you want to lay out a trail of rose petals to the bed for them?”

“He’s too easy,” she continued laughing.

“Fuhfuh sake!!” Leo shouted.

Mary Margaret’s laughter cut off immediately as she stared daggers at her husband. “Watch your mouth, he’s a parrot these days!”

“Gonna be a fun day,” Emma said, once the Nolans had departed. She was most definitely trying to convince herself more than anyone else.

“It’ll be brilliant, love. You and me, that is the only requisite for my enjoyment.”

“I bet you say that to all the other girls.”

“There are no other girls. Only you, milady.”

“Good,” Emma whispered before pulling him in for a kiss.

“Mmm, let’s practice mating like the animals, Swan.”

Emma laughed so hard her stomach hurt. “I have no doubt David is now timing the drive to the zoo and adding it to the time he thinks it should take us to be ready.”

“I can be quick,” Killian purred as he thrust his hardening length against her stomach. 

“Or we could take our time and really freak him out?”

“Your heart’s desire, Swan, I promise, that’s all I want you to have.”

Emma stared into the intense gaze of Killian’s eyes, the blue shining with truth and sincerity. “The long haul, Killian, that’s what my heart desires. You and me.”

The End

Tagging @laschatzi @xhookswenchx @kmomof4 @hookedonapirate @hollyethecurious @jennjenn615​ @teamhook​ @winterbaby89​ @apromisednightcap​ @ultraluckycatnd​ @wordsmith-storyweaver​ @darkcolinodonorgasm​ @nikkiemms​ @deathbycaptainswan​ @gingerchangeling​ @thisonesatellite​ @resident-of-storybrooke​ @whimsicallyenchantedrose​ @tiganasummertree​ @cocohook38​ @snowbellewells​ @andiirivera​ @searchingwardrobes​ @timeless-love-story​ @artistic-writer​ @kday426​ @imagnifika​

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wow i made this draft on november 1st i really took a break from this huh anyway tgcf chapters 121 - 142

i realize now this coffin scene was inevitable. feel kinda weird about hua cheng  back and forth from Teen to Big Man but it is very funny that theyre having their “dude dont look at my boner” moment while in the jaws of a water dragon

pei ming: why didnt you guys make a bigger coffin so you didnt have to squish together like that? xie lian: haha yep!! anyways what brings you here?

“In the grand, spacious centre of the entrance hall sat a person. And this person, dressed in all black, its face snow-white—was a corpse! Instantly Xie Lian shut the doors soundly.” - king of minding his own business.

okay this is where i stopped putting notes here for a while but i did save some in my e-reader so here’s some of the highlights

“Guzi used to have a good sleeping form, but perhaps with his cheap dad’s bad influence, now he was also spread out on top of Qi Rong’s stomach like a dead fish. Lang Ying himself was curled neatly in the corner, and was covered by a few shirts. Xie Lian lifted the blanket covering Qi Rong, suppressed the urge to smother his face, and covered the two small children.” - xie lian funny moments. also it would be really funny if qi rong redeems himself by learning love through these misfit chiildren and it might actually endear me to him but i hope that doesnt happen

Every heavenly official was yelling, and even Ling Wen was throwing a fit. “DON’T THROW EVERY BIT OF USELESS INFORMATION MY WAY, HOW MUCH DO YOU THINK I HAVE TO GO THROUGH EVERY DAY? DON’T YOU ALL KNOW TO USE YOUR BRAINS A LITTLE BEFORE ASKING ME?!” - ling wen marry me right now

“An expression like “seen a ghost” that only mortals experienced was now showing on his face for the first time. Shi Wudu’s pupils shrank to the smallest they could, and he blurted, “You’re still alive?!” “I’m dead!” He Xuan said coldly.” - okay everythings going tits up rn but i did laugh

i did see spoilers re: ming yi/he xuan reveal + shi wudu’s fate beforehand so i dont have a genuine reaction other than oh shit

“He slowly enunciated each word. “I won’t touch your fate. But, here in this place, chop off your brother’s head for me.”  CLANG! He threw a rusty blade onto the ground. Shi Qingxuan stared at that blade, his eyes wide. He Xuan continued, “Then, never show yourself before me again, and I will pretend you’ve never existed in this world.” - okay idk what else is going to happen but rn im concerned that this is like the 2nd biggest ship. i guess we’ll see?? i mean i am really curious whats going to happen to them. shi qingxuan keeps calling he xuan “ming-xiong” and i... sad

shi wudu im not really invested in you as a character but these next two bits... interesting

“If I don’t die but have nothing, then that’s truly a fate worse than death. If I’m not the Water God, I can’t take care of you. I won’t even be able to protect myself. I’m scared that we won’t even last two days…TAKE IT!” - damn. something about the wealthy losing everything and not knowing how to live without it bc thats their entire life and identity

“EVERYTHING I HAVE TODAY, I FOUGHT FOR MYSELF. I WILL FIGHT FOR WHAT I DON’T HAVE. I WILL CHANGE FATE I DON’T POSSESS. MY FATE IS UP TO ME AND NOT THE HEAVENS!” - okay so the whole committing spiritual fraud by tormenting a man and his family to get your brother a cushy title thing aside this was kind of badass. heretical? possibly. but still. also is he intentionally riling up he xuan so sqx doesnt have to kill him? if so damn...

also okay as long as im here im just gonna say it. the choice that he xuan gives shi qingxuan is fucking brutal but i actually think its probably as fair as it could be. sqx didnt know about or participate in what happened to hx but they did benefit from it greatly while hx lost EVERYTHING and i can understand he xuan’s thinking of “if you really feel bad for what happened to me then you have to make a sacrifice and understand the suffering and this is as clean as its going to get” and theres a bit where sqx is trying to beg for mercy but cant get the words out which im guessing is bc theres no good argument!! what happened was fucked up!!

“When Pei Ming saw that reinforcements had arrived, he didn’t appear particularly delighted; instead he threw the sword into the ground, then rubbed his nose and said, sounding grim, “You all just had to come just as I finished making these, what the heck.” - pei ming making coffins chopping down trees with his sword i love it #wastehistime2k17

“Xie Lian brought that basket of eggs along, and gave them away as souvenirs from the mortal realm. Many who received the eggs were overjoyed; some deciding to eat it along with their own blood, and some proclaiming they would hatch an eight-foot monster.” - GHOST CITY GHOST CITY

“Placing the brush down, he blew lightly at the ink and smiled. “If I like something, then my heart will not have room for any other, and I’ll always treasure it. A thousand times, a million times, no matter how many years, this will not change. This poem is the same." - thats nice and all but king... get therapy. i actually have further thoughts but tbh i dont want to put them into words bc they are simply too personal! moving on

didnt take any notes but somewhere in here was the bit with mount tong’lu opening and hua cheng losing it and kind of um. hm. that scene. thats another trope i really hate tbh i dont care for it as a way of including physical intimacy between characters and idk if it really ever adds anything but whatever moving on

The Half-Maquillage Woman - kind of interesting monster idea bc women and aging…. yeah. however i think this would be a lot stronger if there were a) more girls and this was b) discussed or illustrated at all prior to this moment. still interesting that its included knowing the author is a woman tho and there’s been comments on how ling wen is perceived vs pei ming. this book does keep giving me hope for interesting female character arcs i really want it to deliver something

quan yizhen..... i get u

lmao i have a note on a bit with lang ying that says “please dont be hc in disguise” and..... my clown nose was on but at least i knew that. for real this is bothering me how much he’s just. always. there. i know he’s a lead but we didn’t really need him around for a lot of this. oh well.  okay now to my current notes

“Yet it was precisely because it wasn’t cooked that it had to be eaten quickly. Once Xie Lian cooked it, it wouldn’t be edible anymore” - fucking fantastic

“Xie Lian hugged his belly. “Of course! Only after having met you did I rediscover that it’s such a simple thing to be happy, hahaha…” Hearing this, Hua Cheng blinked. Xie Lian’s laughter quieted a bit, realizing what he just said was a little too revealing.” - okay i know i said what i said about being tired of hua cheng being everywhere but... the line…. the fact that theyre laughing together…. :pleading:

“It’s not,” Ling Wen said. “At least, I believe, there will definitely not be another in history who can create a dish called ‘Incorruptible Chastity Meatballs’” - and truer words were never spoken

“I, DO NOT WORSHIP GODS. “I, AM GOD!” - this was every bit as badass as i hoped but no one told me it was immediately followed up by a little bit of the ol dinner theater fjalkdsfjsd. also puqi shrine noooooooooo

“Xie Lian sighed as he thought, “Qi Rong has taken Guzi away, who knows if the poor child was eaten or abandoned. Wind Master...... ..... who knows if Black Water took him away. Pray they’re both safe.” yeah hey are we going to fucknig. find out what happened to the child???

and yeah i dooooont really care for the age regression? thing thats going on. i just dont like that trope tbh. but tiny hua cheng whipping out his fat ghost king wallet in the store was funny tho. it is really funny that hualian are just like wandering around some random towns while the heavens are in an uproar. i guess theres not much else to do but its funny

“Me too, me too. You all know of my shixiong, right? Talented, with an infinite future! He only had one small vice: he loved playing women. Decades ago, a little prostitute ghost seduced my shixiong and sucked him dry into human jerky, and that Hua, Hua, Hua, that ghost king dared shelter her.” - yes omg give me the forbidden hua cheng lore i love this for him for real it goes along nicely with xie lian’s principles about giving another cup. god i love shared values

“Hua Cheng poked again, and a small hole appeared on the wall, as if the wall was made of tofu.” - how’d he do that. why is this a ghost king power. its useful tho

*me shaking qi rong when he pops up* WHERE IS THE CHILD

mu qing fu yao is here okay im happy now. once again no one has a good grasp on their secret identity and i love that. this inn has descended into chaos and im delighted and im glad lan chang is back

“The good ol’ kitchen was suddenly squished and crowded, loud and noisy. Fu Yao was chasing that fetus spirit leaping up and down, Lan Chang was chasing after Fu Yao like she had gone mad. Half of Qi Rong’s face changed shape by the way Xie Lian was pressing him down on the chopping board, his back turning into a target for those yellow talismans Fu Yao hurled while being observed by a crowd, and Lan Chang would step on him from time to time.” - this is pure chaos. i love that mu qing was in that room when the mob checked and he didnt say a word didnt open the door just sent out a talisman as a warning. king your disguise is transparent

“Xie Lian remembered the way Feng Xin laughed until he was hoarse when he first heard that verbal password all those years back, and couldn’t help but feel nostalgic, even though it wasn’t the right time.” - awwwww omg im emotional about this... faithful friend feng xin laughing at xie lian’s stupid joke password and remembering it!!! ;_;

“They have, but they’re not effective,” Feng Xin said. “Usually they’re the most diligent in scorning the Palace of Ling Wen, like they could do the job way better if they had the position. Now that we need them to take up the task, not a single one can do even half of what she does.” - typical... typical typical typical

also emotional about the fact that feng xin contacted xie lian at all.....

also!! emotional about lan chang as a mom and wanting to help out sick lil guzi.....

xie lian forcing “fu yao” to let him help “his general” is making me.... what is friendship if not playing along with your buddies little shenanigans while also making them accept your help

“Someone like Mu Qing, even though he’s narrow-minded, petty, sensitive and skeptical, has a bad personality, constantly guessing, doesn’t say nice things, likes to nag, always offending people and has a lot of people who dislike him, has no friends, can remember small, unimportant details for a long period of time…” ”Xie Lian went on in one breath with a straight face, but in the end he concluded with, “...But I’ve known him since we were kids, after all, he’s still got principles.” - XIE LIAN PLEASE AFJDLKSFJDL omg ive seen this quote before but i figured he was talking to someone else not actually to mu qing himself fgjasdkfjsl. god thats amazing. hey im gonna help you out because i care but i will roast you first <3

waaaaaait so is lan chang aka jian lan that girl from book 2 we took a page to talk about and then disappeared? that has to be it why else would we have stopped to discuss her

“Jian Lan spat on his face, then choking his neck, she slapped him twice again. “WHAT SHITTY SUPREME! YOU SURE KNOW HOW TO BLOW YOURSELF UP! WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE, THINK YOU’RE EVEN WORTH TO BE THOUGHT OF AS EQUALS WITH THE OTHER THREE SUPREMES? WHAT ARE YOU EVEN GOOD AT? YOUR THICK SKIN? OF COURSE I DARE HIT YOU!” - oh this feels so good i cant lie. YES GET HIM!! CHOMPING AND VIOLENCE YES!!!!

okay this description of cuocuo.... im... that sure the hell is a creature

this book is so entertaining bc i already saw spoilers for the feng xin/jian lan/cuo cuo reveal and yet i could never have predicted the circumstances that brought it about. imagine being feng xin. the heavens are in an uproar and your only friend/enemy has been jailed for possible fetus spirit-related crimes but he escapes along with this female ghost who keeps causing problems. you figure “fuck it lets see if dianxia kept his old phone number” and he has but then he hangs up on you. you’ve got fuckall else to do so you go find him. mu qing is there but he’s in his disguise the two of you were using so you could watch over his highness while staying aloof. you think you see hua cheng only he’s a chiild for some goddamn reason but who knows at this point. the female ghost is also there and theres a fetus spirit climbing trees and biting your arrows in half. you realize the female ghost is your ex and the little demon is your son. it bites you. what do you do

amazing that despite everything going on everyone is still playing along with the “fu yao” persona when it would probably be easier to drop pretenses at this point. then again tbh if i could explain my actions to my friends while pretending to be a third party.... i probably would so.. carry on

“With all his devotees gone, only Feng Xin still treated him like the Flower-Crowned Martial God and His Highness the Crown Prince. ” “...his protection charms were all seen as trash. However, Feng Xin was still determined and tireless in handing them out; telling Xie Lian, look, you still have devotees.” “After all, he was the darling of the heavens since birth, high and mighty. Feng Xin so naturally spun around him like he was the world, so how could he possibly have his own life, his own heart” “Whether or not that fetus spirit was Feng Xin’s son, if it was that period of poverty that made Feng Xin lose the girl he loved, Xie Lian wouldn’t be able to forgive himself no matter what." ohhhh my god this relationship i. im...

oh my god i still have 30 more chapters until book 4............ its naptime now i think