#but it’s hard to…. search for mango without getting pictures of…. mangos

[weaselishmcdiesel]

Is there a ship name for mumbo x tango? And if there is, & it isn't mango, i will be disappointed /lh

From the one fanfiction I have already found, yeah it’s mango :)

[miss-cincaide]

Can we try…? 

Summary: Megumi knows how to get you to try new things in bed. It’s like a little dance between you two, but even when all the steps are right, there’s still plenty of room for it to take a different route, Or the time Megumi wants to try something new and it turns into a quickie

Pairing: Fem! Reader x Megumi Fushiguro (aged up!) Kinktober prompt 7: Quickie  WC: 1.9K Warnings: Minors DN, 18+ content! Contains (p in v, unprotected), trying new kinks, quickie, light choking, pet names and praises, cursing, PwP

Megumi has an approach, a method to the way he tackles ‘new things’ and ‘sex’ in the same context. It’s never a spontaneous- spurr-of-the-moment request in the middle of getting hot and steamy, or a prolonged nagging until you give in. Instead, it’s always this meticulously planned mission that lasts over several days- if not weeks—slowly giving you hints and time to ease into the idea. To figure out what you want; are you curious? Scared? Comfortable? Aroused? Are you okay with him asking you for it or is it off-limits entirely? 

He always does it in a way that gives you time to think—a chance to set your boundaries without feeling pressured or scared that you are disappointing him. Just react and move on, no questions asked.  

And it drove you fucking wild. 

The kind of wild you’re ready to drop your panties, bend over and receive his cock with a gracious ‘yes please’ and ‘fuck me baby’ in one breath. The kind where you edge him on through flirty texts while he is away on his mission, and if you’re really desperate, then some naughty pictures too. Just enough that when he comes home at midnight, he’s just as fucking hot and bothered as you’ve felt the entire day. Rock-hard on, more teasing which leads to a messy, loud and steamy round one in the shower- the usual catalyst of that equation. 

Normally that is.

But as you stare at the computer and the ‘accidentally open’ history full of search terms spread over the last few weeks, you don’t know what to make of this particular kink. Your hand shakes slightly, moving the mouse to the ‘delete history’ button, then away from it, then back to it. The frown on your lips grows more profound as you bite the inside of your cheek in thought. You don’t know what to do with it. Cockwarming. What the heck even is that? You click through some of the links. Definitions and explanations, but still don’t get the complete picture of it. Or at least what’s so arousing about it. You take a step back from the screen, glance at the clock, and conclude that you don’t have a lot of time until Megumi comes home. Of course, you could postpone deciding- there’s never any pressure for sex or otherwise when he’s around. But also, you haven’t seen him for a few days. You missed him, and want to feel the connection, the intimate closeness that came with being vulnerable and trying something new with your loved one. 

You take a long moment to consider the act itself.  Is it so out there that you’d never want to try it? No. You’ve done plenty of penis in pussy action, a lot of it left you whimpering and asking for more. And part of your aftercare was spooning and cuddling. Technically it wasn’t something you two hadn’t done yet, but you also knew you were gonna struggle with feeling him close without chasing the high of an orgasm. Was that a deal breaker? 

Fuck it! 

You closed down the computer and headed back to your joint bedroom to freshen up before settling under the warm covers, silently waiting for Megumi to come home. 

You must have dozed off waiting for him because you woke up to the feeling of Megumi climbing into bed with you. His wet hair ticking the back of your neck, and the smell of your mango body wash filled your senses. His arm came to wrap around your waist, and you instantly wiggled closer to him, feeling the heat of his bare chest through your thin nightgown and the unmistakable outline of his half-hard cock through his boxers. 

The feeling instantly made you more awake. “Hmmm, you’re home and showered already, Gumi?” you groan out, salvaging the feeling of his lips showering your cheeks, your neck and your bare shoulder in kisses. You’re definitely enjoying the princess-wake-up treatment.

“ Got done early, missed you” Megumi mumbles, pressing a long kiss on your bare shoulder “ How is my baby doing?” the playful tone and care in his tone made you smile and snuggle closer to him, throwing your leg back and he caught it in between his thighs. He adjusts a little, then begins a soft rocking motion, at first trying to get as close to you as possible until you are cocooned up in his arms. Then it turned into sensual grinding. 

You are practically purring at the sensation, the warmth and the closeness. “ I miss you too.. So I.. ehem.. Thought if I napped a little, I’d get to see you sooner,” You slowly blink the sleep away as Megumi chuckles, pressing another long kiss to your neck. Purposefully avoiding the covered skin. “Gumi!” You whine then raise your shoulder, shaking off the nightgown strap until it slides further down your arm,  exposing your collarbone and the top part of your tits to him. 

You hear his humm, a clear indication that he is listening as he covers the newly exposed skin in kisses “What is it? Is my baby unhappy with something?” Megumi smirks against your skin, making sure to roll his hips just right as he asks. You feel every inch of him, from his needy tip to perfect lengths, and you grind right back against him, your hands seeking his out on your waist before tugging it down to where your nightgown meets your thigh. “Does my baby want something?” 

“Megumi” You’re whining now, rocking together with him. You want him, and you weren’t ready to untangle yourself from him anytime soon. You want him closer, closer, to lay in bed wrapped up in each other's arms. “About the thing- why?” 

 “ Why?” Megumi repeats slowly, blinking in thought, his long lashes brushing against your cheek as he tries to formulate his feelings into thoughts. “Because I want to feel my baby close, to be as close as we can physically be without rushing or needing to clean up the mess.” Megumi takes a shaky breath, kissing up your neck to your ear “Can– can I?” 

You hummed a little. You could understand that sentiment, in a way, “But there’ll be no pleasure.” You mumbled quietly. “Won’t it be boring?” 

“Does everything have to pleasure and excitement?” as if to prove his point, he presses another long kiss on your shoulder, holds his lips there, looking at you through long lashes. His gaze is intense; he is eating you up with his eyes, turning your insides on fire and mush all at once. 

You fall in love with him all over again. From the messy hair, gentle touch, and worshipping kisses to the way he looks at you as if you’re the most precious thing in existence. Most precious to him. 

“Let's try”, you whisper, and you see him hesitate for a second, clearly not sure if he’s pushing you too much, and it makes you smile.’ God you adore this man’, you think to yourself as you press a kiss to his forehead, another on his hair, and then duck down to his lips. The kisses are soft and loving, a stark contrast to the way you grind your ass against his crotch. Your nightdress hikes up until it's just your bare skin against his damp boxers. 

Megumi breaks the kiss, biting down the moan on his lips as he drops his head on your shoulder.  “Fuck baby, you’re too good to me” Reaching out he clutches your hand in his while the other one leaves your thigh to pull down his boxers. “Too good.” Another kiss is on your shoulder while he adjusts your leg, shifting it from between his legs to on top of them. 

“You’re one to talk” you breathe out, spreading your legs wider, salvaging the feeling of his cold fingers between your legs. Checking to make sure you’re okay, that you’re aroused enough, relaxed enough. Megumi doesn’t want to hurt you, and every time he takes extra moments to check on you, it melts your heart; “I love you” Your eyes meet his for a second as he leans over your shoulder. 

“Love you too, baby” 

You both moan as he pushes inside you, slow and steady. Inch by inch until he’s nestled balls deep. You can feel him twitching, and it takes absolutely everything from you not to rock your hips. “God, I’ve missed you, Gumi.” You clench around him, and he curses.

“Fuck baby, Fuck. if you do that again I’m going to lose it” Megumi’s practically trembling in your arms.

“Do what Gumi?” You blink innocently, knowing he won’t be able to see it with his face buried in the crook of your neck, panting like a dog in heat. You know precisely what you’re doing. You can’t help it. “I’m not even–” You gasp as he pulls out and thrusts into you. The hand on your thigh drops between your legs, skilled fingers knowing exactly how to move to leave you breathless, while the palm of his second-hand lands on your throat. 

“Ohh just like that, Gumi, don’t stop” You whimper, turning your words into gasps and moans as his hand tightens ever so slightly around your throat. Let's go, then tightens again as he rolls his hips just fucking right and you meet them with a thrust of your own, your leg on his thigh spreading wider “Mmm s’close Gumi, ahmm, close” 

“God baby, yes, just like that pretty baby, clench just like that. You’re so good to me, your pussy feels so good, fuckk you’re so pretty like this-” 

You moan at the sweet nothingness in your ear, each breathless my pretty baby making you weak. You feel his thrusts quicken, the fingers on your clit rolling the bud a little rougher as Megumi cums first. The twitch, the hot cum, and the way he’s so deep, rocking his hips as if trying to go even deeper, sends you right after him. 

Everything stills, your hands clutch at each other, your head thrown back, barely getting air from the death grip on your throat, your hands clutch at him, nails dig into his skin. He isn’t much better with the way he clutches you. 

You’re trembling; he is trembling. 

The moment passes, and his grip loosens. You take a deep gasp of air, slumping into the sheets. Megumi rubs your leg, keeping it propped up against himself, thrusting a little deeper around the slick and the cum in a desperate attempt to keep his softening cock inside your warmth. 

Despite yourself, you giggle, and your eyes practically shine with mischief. “I thought cockwarming was without movement-” 

Megumi stiffens, and you don’t doubt his cheeks are tomato red. “Shut up” 

“-and I thought not everything needs to be excitement and pleasure.” You’re enjoying this a lot, almost as much as the sex. 

“Seriously, shut up.” Megumi raises his head and gives you a pointed look, which doesn’t look the least bit menacing when he’s bright pink, half from the embarrassment of having his words thrown back at him and half from the orgasm. 

“Or what?” You smile, twisting your body just a little more to face him. You feel him slip out of you in the process. Your eyes flicker downwards for a second before Megumi grasps your chin in his hand and forces you to look him in the eyes. 

“Or it’s round two. And this time I won’t be gentle” 

All you can do is grin, another taunt playing on the tip of your tongue. Quick loving sex after being apart for a few days is amazing; a rough several-hour-long fuck as round two is a treat you know you won’t be able to pass up.

 Maybe ‘Cockwarming’ had it’s uses after all..

Author note:

Main |Raven|Rules & Requests |Masterlist | Cred & Other 

All fics are unique works by © miss-cincaide 2024. Do not copy/repost/translate or spread my work(s) without my explicit permission. If you see any of my work(s) reworked/reposted/copied anywhere, please inform me!

[mdotmaro]

Winging It

Author's Note: This story is set right after Vacation with Derek. Casey is going off to New York to like her dream as a dancer in a musical. But what if things are not what she expected? What if her dream was wrong? What if the most irritating person in your life is the only one that can talk some sense into you

And so the summer of 05 was coming to an end. The Blue Heron Lodge wasn't going anywhere, and Broadway was calling Casey's name. She sat at the dock, letting her toes dance across the surface, careful to avoid her heels getting wet. There were slight thumps on the floorboards of the dock.

"You know it's not much of a party if you go to brood off all alone. Maybe save the dramatics when you get on stage." Derek commented while he took a seat next to Casey. She chuckled quietly.

"You heard, huh?" She asked with a wistful smile on her face as she stared up at the stars.

"Hard not to when Nora and her hormones keep crying about it every five minutes; Casey laughed at that and wiped a stray tear from the corner of her eye. Derek eyed her and then recoiled at the sight of tears.

"Oh, come on, not you too. Jeez, I can't wait to be in University without all the estrogen seeping through the walls." He said and nudged her lightly.

"I am fine, really just taking it all in. My dream is really coming true, and I just have this light feeling in my chest that makes me want to laugh and cry all at once." She explained; he smirked at her.

"Well, if that feeling spreads to your right arm, let someone know because you might be having a heart attack," Derek said, and Casey shoved him.

"Yeah, I'll miss you too, Der, " She said, and Derek scoffed at the insinuation.

"Whatever, all I am saying is that New York is far enough away that it would be too much of a pain to Dad and Nora to go fly over and save you from whatever crisis you have; so" He cleared his throat and looked up at the sky and pointedly not at Casey. His ears were a tad pink.

"So, call me instead. But you're paying for the plane ticket." He added abruptly, but it was too late. Casey began to pout her lip and stare at Derek with tears in her light blue eyes.

"Aww, Der. You do care. Come here," She said and went to hug the young man that back peddled away from her.

"I take it back, don't call me. Don't touch me. Casey, I mean it," He said in a mock deep tone that made her glossy eyes glitter with amusement. It was a two-second pause between them before Derek sprinted up the dock with Casey close at his heels.

"Oh, come on, Derek, you love me, just admit it," Casey shouted and laughed after him. He blitzed away from her just as she was about to catch him by shirttail. Her fingers barely brushed the fabric. Derek thought he could lose her at the dock because there was no way she would risk falling off, Right? Wrong, one rolled ankle, and down she splashed into the dark water. Derek burst out laughing and continued until he realized Casey didn't resurface.

"Casey?" Derek called out and scanned the surface for any bubbles. A twinge of panic left his voice when he called out again. "Casey!" Still nothing. "Oh for the love of Peter" He grumbled before taking off his fancy shoes and jumping in and searched the water for any sign of her. He saw a dim image of a figure struggling against something. Derek swam over and saw it was her heavy wedge heel stuck between two pieces of driftwood. Casey was trying to yank her foot out; Derek broke the buckle and dragged her up. They both gasped, and then Casey hit Derek in the chest.

"Der-rek, those were my favorite shoes!" She panted and supported herself up by his arms until she could regain her breath. Derek stared open-mouthed at her.

"Fine. I'll just let you drown next time," He said and then smirked, and Casey's eyes widened before Derek dunked her head underwater. She swatted at him until he let her go, and then there was a splashing war. At one point, Casey was able to wrap her legs around Derek's waist and pushed down on his shoulders to dip him under.

"Casey, you are not allowed to drown Derek," Nora said passively as she waddled with her large belly to the bunkhouse with George. Derek picked Casey up and flung her back into the water.

"You heard her." Derek laughed at the haphazard hair plastered to her forehead. Casey dipped her head back to smooth out her hair.

"Let's get out of here; the water is freezing," Casey said and wrapped her arms tightly around herself; the dress she was wearing had stuck to her skin in a less than modest way than Casey was comfortable with. Derek unbuttoned his vest and handed it to her. She smiled and accepted the vest, and quickly buttoned up the middle. Jessie saw Casey from across the lawn and jogged over.

"Hey, Casey, a great night for a swim, eh?" He said while grinning at the waterlogged step-siblings. Derek nudged Casey's arm before heading out to the brunette waiting by the jet ski. Casey watched him go before turning back to Jessie. I guess you could say that. Want to go for a walk?" She asked while looping her arm through Jessie's.

"What happened to your shoes?" Jessie asked, indicating to her bare feet. Casey laughed

"It's a long story."

Six months later

The blaring car horns were surprisingly easy to adapt to. Casey particularly loved the little shops and cafes that seemed to flower at every corner. The organic wheatgrass and lemon zest smoothie was a favorite routine of hers before taking a run in central park. Rehearsal wasn't until 10 am, and Casey had to make sure to keep up her stamina for the demanding routine involved in the Jazztap Tango on Mango Street.

Casey was the roommate and unrequited love interest, Mindy. Jessie was the lead Georgio. He was taking his role as the Mainstreet casanova to heart. Whatever began at the Blue Heron Lodge was soon forgotten after there was so much research to do with so many women.

"I just need to get a better feel of the character. You understand, don't you?" Jessie explained at Casey's studio apartment. She stared at him and tried her best to stay civil. It was an act she had seen many times with Truman and certainly with Jessie. He wasn't exactly nonchalant about his veracious flirting as a waiter, and it only increased in New York when his charming shyness faded away.

"Of course, see you on set. K?" She said before gently closing the door. The apartment was basically a shoebox; she could barely practice her routine, and Casey was starting to get restless. There were a few framed pictures across the headboard of her twin bed. She picked up the last picture the entire family had taken together. Simon was just born, and they were all huddled together at the hospital. She smiled at the image that had been taken four months earlier. Simon must have at least doubled in size by now. Casey sighed at the knot in her chest and stared at the phone on her bed for a long moment before giving in and dialing.

"Yo, You've reached Derek Venturi. Leave a message, and I may or may not get back to you. Later" Casey rolled her eyes at the voicemail, but she still waited for the beep.

"Hey, It's Casey. No, I am not having a crisis. I just wanted to call and see how you were doing and to see if you had flunked any of your classes yet. Call me back when you can," She said, and that was two days ago, and she had not heard back from him since. The musical was supposed to air at the Radio City Music Hall for the first time that night at 8 pm. It was too short notice for any family or friends to be able to see it live, but they promised to come to the next showing in two months in Buffalo.

Casey quickly dressed and went up to the stage. "Alright, Casey, go up to the balcony and start from 'Carry On, '" The director Bernard Blue instructed from the front row. The prop balcony was just reinforced after a near spill last week that had Casey hanging on for dear life by the railing. Margret, the leading lady, had teased that Casey shouldn't have had that extra slice of pizza at rehearsal wrap-up. Derek said that she was being "Black Swanned" when she had called that night to vent her frustrations.

"You've seen The Black Swan?" Casey scoffed.

"Uh Yeah, Natalie Portman 'finding her sexual nature' on screen. How could I not?" He said.

"You're disgusting," She said, but they ended up laughing anyway.

Casey stared into the spotlight and let out a deep breath.

"Carry on, sweet dear. My mother always told me.

Carry on through these tears. Let them water your garden.

Soon the flowers will bloom and shade your views of the unkindness of this world." Casey's voice carried sweetly through the theater as she watered the small prop flowers on the balcony. Below Jessie danced and caressed Margret while Casey was made to gaze forlorn at them from above.

"But sometimes the flowers bloom is not enough.

Never enough." Casey sang with more force, and she flew down the stairs to meet the lovers, but before she descended, they were gone.

"Just living and watching you fade from me.

Even if you're happy, it will never be enough for me-" She ended with the saddest halt of her voice. The lights faded, and then she was shuffled backstage for the next scene. It had become just a monotonous cycle in her life. When did her dream become the very thing she dreaded each and every day. Maybe when it was when her dream became a job, and the freeing feeling she had when she danced was now controlled by someone else. She looked at the glittering face in the mirror. Casey had the opportunity to give into a secret desire to be a blonde for the role, but there was something different in her eyes. They seemed dull.

The play was a moderate success. There were no screaming crowds or cries for an encore like the director had predicted. Casey was honestly just glad it was over. When she went to the dressing room, she found someone in her chair. With a well-timed spin, Derek grinned at her, appearing quite at home.

"The real star is here," He announced, lounging in the makeup chair like a throne. Casey laughed and all but launched at him. She squeezed him in a hug.

"Chillz, Case. Can't breathe." Derek said but still gave her a gentle squeeze back. Some of the other girls began to mill into the dressing room and took in the scene of the two step-siblings.

"Aww, Casey, I didn't know you had enough time for a boyfriend." Eloise sneered. Casey gave the petite redhead a withering look.

"This is my step-brother, Derek. Derek, this is Eloise, Jasmine, Cossette, and Jamie." Casey said, milling off as the women eyed Derek with a predatory look. Casey wrinkled her nose in distaste.

"Oh, and is Derek single?" Eloise asked while batting her massive costume lashes at the man. Derek chuckled and got out of the chair, but before he could say anything.

"Oh, he is, but sorry to tell you, girls, he is gay. Come on, let me show you the city." Casey said before half dragging Derek out of the dressing room. Derek protested the entire time he was very much straight. Once they were on the street, Derek shook her off his arm.

"Jeez, Casey. Possessive much?" Derek complained. Casey shook her head.

"Please, Derek. Those theater girls would have eaten you alive." She teased. "Anyway, what made you come all the way over? How did you like the play? How is the family?" Casey rattled off as they walked down the street, the park was coming up, and they had a night market to celebrate the change into spring.

"Take a breath, Casey." Derek teased and shoved his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket. Casey closed her mouth and made a locking motion while throwing away a figurative key. Derek rolled his eyes.

"You are such a dork," He mumbled, and she put her hands on her hips. "Well, I heard your voicemail, and you are still a terrible liar; you are obviously having a crisis." And he held a hand to stall her protest. "Yes, you are, but I have to go down the list before you go on this verge of denial." He smirked

"The play was sappy but good, I guess. And the Fam is fine, I guess, you can reach out to them too, you know." He said and then lingered over to a hotdog vendor and ordered a dog with all the fixings, even relish. Derek took a huge, messy bite and then offered some to Casey, who gave a quick shake of her head.

"I know, and I try too, but these hours are so long with the play and rehearsals and the gym to stay in shape." She sighed. Derek sized her up.

"What's wrong with the shape you're in now?" Derek said through a mouth full of meat. Casey grimaced and offered him a napkin.

"Chew, swallow, then speak, you, Neanderthal," Casey said and then looked down at her thin, toned arms. "The costume designer has been complaining about having to use extra material for my costume because I am not a size two like the other girls," Casey said and crossed her arms in frustration.

"You'd look weirder than usual if you were super thin like them," Derek said after finishing his hot dog and wiping his mouth. They passed a beadwork station where Derek tossed his trash in the nearby bin, and Casey looked intently at the necklaces.

"I agree, but that's showbusiness. I don't have enough curves to be plus-sized and not thin enough to be seen as a regular dancer. It's exhausting," She admitted while touching a deep jade necklace like one her mother would wear.

"So, quit," Derek said simply. Casey turned away from the necklace and stared at him incredulously.

"I can't just quit on my dream, Derek. I have sacrificed too much for it not to work out." She said hotly. Derek gave her a bland look.

"I saw you up there; there is no passion in you." Derek accused. Casey scoffed.

"Please. What do you know about passion?" Casey asked, and he shrugged.

"I have been playing hockey since I was twelve, and I have never felt like getting up to play was ever work. You have been complaining for weeks about this, and it is just not what you expected. And that scares you." He accused. Casey shoved him.

"I am not scared!" She hissed, but it wasn't convincing. She gave into his penetrating look and slumped her shoulders. "Okay, fine. I thought it would be amazing to dance on a stage in front of hundreds of people every night, but it's not the same when the choreography is the exact same, and I don't have the creative liberties I would If I did my own choreography." She admitted—Derek tutt at her before lazily throwing his arm across her shoulders.

"Well, you can always modify your dream to fit your life." He said and then eyed a street band performing under a massive tree filled with string lights. Casey gave him a confused look, and then her eyes widened at him when he dragged her towards the band, and he twirled her around. "Like dancing in the park without any stuffed shirts of catty girls criticizing you." He said before joining her in a faced paced swing dance. Casey's face lit up with the biggest and most beautiful smile. She laughed and tilted her head back when Derek picked her up and spun her.

A small crowd of dancers joined in, and the band picked up its pace, and Derek let Casey down so she could take the reigns. This was her, Casey free and alive.

The two left the park with a little more pep in their step and laughing. Derek dragged them to the closest bar and ordered them whiskey shots. Derek started to sweet talk to the bartender and didn't even get carded. They were legal in Canada, but at nineteen, were not yet legal in the states. It helped that Derek had a bit of a blonde stubble beard going on. Casey just shook her head in amazement.

"I am the one supposed to be showing you around the city. I am the one who lives here," Casey said before clinking her shot glass with Derek's and downing it in one go. Derek laughed at her grimace as the whiskey burned down her throat.

"It's called confidence Casey, maybe you'll know all about it after a few more of these." He said and waved at the bartender for another round. He handed Casey another cool shot glass, and she met his determined gaze with one of her own. He leaned close to her ear and said over the loud music.

"Oh, and you're paying, by the way." He said, and before she could yell at him, he downed his shot and pulled on her hand to the dance floor. Casey refrained from his pulling to shakily downed her whiskey shot. Derek released her to the thumping music while he made eye contact with a blonde in a tight purple dress. Casey felt her limbs become loose and cool and began to sway to the beat. The writhing bodies pressed against another was not the type of music she was usually used to, but there was something hypnotic about it. A pair of arms snaked around her waist, and Casey flinched to see a handsome stranger with mint green eyes that shone against dark skin. He leaned close to her ear.

"Want to dance?" He asked, and she nodded nervously. He led her in a slow sway, lightly pressing his hips into hers. Casey bit back a gasp and ran her arms up and through her own loose waves. This was heaven. She followed the handsome stranger step for step and rolled her hips in a way that made him hiss. His hands began to drift from her hips to the back pockets of her low-ride jeans. It was only when he squeezed her bottom that she squealed and jumped away. The handsome stranger raised his hands up in surrender. He mouthed "sorry" to her, and she shook her head and smiled at him before moving more towards the center and dancing by herself. At least she was until Derek came over with another two shots, and she gladly accepted, now getting more used to the burn.

"You okay?" Derek shouted over the music. Casey nodded.

"Better than ever." She said and wrapped her arms around his waist and pulled him into a more lively song. Derek put both their glasses on the nearby counter and began to sway along with Casey. This was much closer than they had ever danced before, and Casey was giggling and biting her bottom lip as she spun and gyrated onto Derek. Oh no, Derek thought. He had created a monster. He would have always thought Casey would be a lame weepy drunk, but it turns out she is a flirty drunk. Derek wasn't exactly sober either, and the night was still swinging along. He held for the ride with his hands firmly on Casey's hips. She spun and then wrapped her arms around his neck. She swayed back and forth with her eyes half-closed.

It's hard to say who moved; first, one moment, they were forehead to forehead, and then Casey whispering huskily, "Thank you for saving me, Derek" Derek chuckled and asked, "From what?". Casey's fingers ran through his smooth hair before leaning to his ear and whispering, "From myself" Maybe he was going to give her a reassuring kiss on the cheek. Maybe she only turned to put her head on his shoulder. Whatever their possible intentions, what happened was that their lips met for the briefest moment. They had enough sobriety to freeze and look into each other's eyes. Derek searched her baby blue eyes for any fear or concern but only found her doing the same, and a flicker of want glazed over her eyes. That was all each other needed for permission.

While the first kiss was sweet and innocent, this kiss was desperate and sensual. Derek pressed Casey closer and cupped the back of her head to deepen the kiss, and Casey let her hands trail down his chest to the hem of his shirt. In the course of their kissing, the song had changed to something slower; Casey and Derek took the opportunity to come up for air. Casey nuzzled into Derek's neck, and he held her close.

"What are we doing?" Casey asked and pulled back to look at Derek. She half expected a sarcastic remark like, What does it look like? We were making out, and now we're not. Not that big a deal, Case. But Casey had never seen Derek like this before. His face was open and vulnerable.

"I don't know," He said and shook his head. He smoothed some hair out of her face and smiled down at her. Casey smiled back and leaned up to kiss him lightly. She rubbed her hands over his arms.

"Well, whatever this is, let's wing it," Casey announced confidently. Derek laughed at that and shook her lightly.

"What?" Casey pouted. Derek shook his head and slung an arm over her shoulder, leading her out of the dance floor towards the bar to pay their tab.

"'Let's wing it,'" He imitated her in an absurdly high pitch tone. "You are still such a Keener," He said. She elbowed his side.

"Der-rek," She whined as he pat her head in a condescending way.

"It's okay; you're a cute kenner." He said with a wink. She forked up the cash for their tab and joined him out in the New York nightlife.

They stared out at the buildings from Casey's fire escape. Neither said anything for several minutes until Casey broke the silence.

"I have to drop out of the play," Casey announced, and Derek smoothed her hair in response. "Yeah, you got me thinking."

"Oh no," Derek said and snickered when she lightly slapped his knee. Casey was sitting between his legs and leaning back into his chest.

"I want to go back to school, but not for Law. I want to own my own dance studio." She said, and Derek put his chin on top of her head.

"So, Casey Macdonald found a way to make a career where she is in complete control. Shocker." He whispered the last part into her ear; she smiled and then turned around so she was facing him.

"Plus, going to university will give us time to figure out whatever this is." She said as she placed her hands on his shoulders. He smirked at her.

"Yeah, sure, let's 'wing it,'" He said, and Casey slid her hands up to his neck and kissed him until the sun began to rise, and they both finally succumbed to exhaustion.

[renaerys]

PPG One-Shot: Six Degrees Chiller (Brick/Blossom)

A new cute one-shot in honor of @carriedreamerx birthday! In the same high school AU as part 1, part 2, and part 3, but can totally stand-alone. Also posted on my AO3. Tune in for some laughs and some Reds cuteness!

Summary: Brick goes deodorant shopping. It doesn't end well. (Or does it??)

xxx

Brick squinted at the nine-foot shelf packed with a full color wheel of deodorants and antiperspirants. The sheer surfeit of brands and scents was as daunting to behold as it was absolutely batshit insane—how many ways did people need to not smell like a dirty gym sock?

He picked a random stick and scowled at the label as if it had offended him and all his future progeny. Who the fuck would want to smell like mango lassi?

The squeak of a shopping cart rolling down the aisle sent Brick into a febrile panic for a hot second, and he shoved the saccharine deodorant stick back onto the shelf. A geriatric woman with a hunched back, a bright head scarf, and eyes so folded over with wrinkles it was a miracle she could see anything at all wheeled her cart slowly past Brick, who froze where he stood. She smiled politely at him, and he nodded out of sheer self-preservation instinct. The moment she passed him, he yanked the bill of his red cap lower over his eyes.

“Get a grip,” he grumbled. He was an eighteen-year-old guy buying deodorant, not stool softener. He was totally casual and had absolutely no reason to be so fucking paranoid. Nobody who might recognize him was coming to Cooper’s Market at 8 a.m. on a Sunday.

Brick wiped his clammy palms on his jeans and searched the shelves for what he’d come for so he could hurry up and leave. There it was, fifth shelf in a sea of sleek black and edgy, neon letters: Axe Ice Chill.

“Okay, do you consider yourself more of a music lover, sports star, gaming guru, or style icon?” Boomer had asked as he sat cross-legged on the sofa with his laptop open to the Axe “Find Your Magic” test a few months ago.

“Sports star,” Butch had said on his left, and poked the screen that wasn’t a touch-screen.

“That’s you, moron,” Brick had said, totally above this stupid test. “Pick style icon.”

Boomer grinned. “Oh yeah, your hoodies are so stylin’.” He clicked the next question. “Signature scent? Huh, maybe warm and aromatic?”

“Sounds like one of those Yankee holiday candles,” Butch had said.

Unfortunately, he had a point.

“Well, you're not exactly woody and earthy, and you’re definitely not fruity and sweet—”

“Just go to the next one.” Brick clicked on “fresh and cool” and waited for the screen to load. “Smellin’ good!” the loading page flashed at him. Jesus fucking Christ.

When the quiz presented a true or false statement, Butch moved like he had a bug up his ass and slammed the touchpad before Brick or Boomer could do anything about it.

Boomer tried not to laugh. “Dude, come on.”

“Please, he’s a punk-ass dweeb who’d never make the first move in a fight, let alone on a girl—” Butch had taunted.

Brick punched him in the throat with his Super speed and smiled at the sound of his asshat brother gagging. “Choke and die, motherfucker.”

Butch wheezed as he laughed through the pain, and Brick and Boomer breezed through the more generic age and appearance questions: under 18, long hair (“Mane Man!” the quiz gushed, and Brick almost melted Boomer’s laptop right there), and natural look. After an artificially anticipatory loading screen, a picture of a dude with a clown nose crowd surfing in a sepia Instagram filter appeared on the screen with the generic “Be your best self!” encouragement in blocky letters superimposed upon it, and finally the expert, personalized recommendation for Brick’s body spray needs.

“Because you’re hotter when you’re chill.” Brick had cringed when he read that idiotic tagline the first time, and he cringed reading it again now in the deserted personal hygiene aisle where he prayed no one would find him buying this cry-for-help vanity spritz.

However.

He sprayed a bit of mist in the air and reveled in that cool, icy scent that wasn’t a scent so much as a feeling. Six degrees chiller in a bottle. The first time he’d tried it (under great duress), he’d griped and bitched and slammed his bedroom door to get away from his howling brothers. Settled on his bed with a frown, he had to admit it did cool him off. It was almost pleasant. The smell wasn’t overwhelming like that tiger piss Butch bathed in on the daily. But it wasn’t out of this world compared to the generic shit he’d been using before.

It wasn’t until Blossom sneezed on their way out of AP Lit that her ice breath—and understanding—hit him with the force of a cold snap to the balls.

“Sorry, did I get you?” she’d said, abashed as she covered her mouth with one hand and fished out a bottle of Purell from her messenger bag with the other. Her ice splatter fast melted on his shoulder as his too-warm body absorbed the cold with a bizarre, but extremely pleasant, shiver down his spine.

Son of a bitch, but he had a kink.

Which, of course, spiraled way the hell out of control when he found himself here months later with a recycled shopping bag he’d brought so he could carry the three bottles of Axe Ice Chill he planned to purchase home, because Brick planned ahead and liked to keep his bathroom well-stocked.

Which also, of course, was why at that very moment, fate decided to punch him in the dick.

“Bubbles, you have, like, fourteen bottles of shampoo at home! You don’t need another one,” Buttercup groused at 8 in the goddamned morning on a Sunday.

“Those are all different products, not just shampoo. Honestly, Buttercup.” Bubbles zipped into the aisle with Buttercup on her tail just at the moment Brick had his second panic attack in the span of five minutes and completely lost his shit.

He launched the bottle of Axe Ice Chill so hard into the ceiling that it lodged in there tighter than a prairie-dogging turd.

“Brick?” Blossom’s hand on his shoulder nearly sent him yeeting after his abused body spray, if the sheer mortification didn’t rob him of further motor function and exactly one hundred percent of his brain cells.

Like her sisters, she wore a jacket over her pajama pants. They must have just popped over for some last-minute breakfast staples and a side of peer humiliation. But even in those criminally hideous Ugg boots and five boxes of pancake mix in her shopping basket at 8 on a fucking Sunday morning, her smile glowed.

“Hi,” she said.

“Hi,” he returned lamely, because that was all she was getting from him until his neurological functions rebooted.

“Hi, Brick,” Buttercup said, suspicious like usual and searching for some excuse to bust his balls for a laugh. “What’re you doing here?”

The Super sisters had cornered him in front of the Teen Spirit, which came in an absolutely frightful eighteen scents because there was nothing pubescent teenagers needed more than eighteen reassurances that their social survival depended on smelling like a potpourri candy bar.

“Shopping, obviously,” Bubbles said. “Ooh, Brick, you have straight hair. What do you think?” She held up two bottles of brightly colored free-range, organic hair shit.

“I think I was just leaving,” he managed.

“Empty-handed?” Buttercup peered at him like he might transform into a literal dick with ears if she only managed not to blink for long enough. He could smell the threat of a joke on her.

“They didn’t have the brand I wanted.”

“Oh, that sucks,” Bubbles said, genuinely stricken.

“Girls, let’s get going. I really want those pancakes,” Blossom said.

“We better grab more syrup. Buttercup finished it all,” Bubbles said, already moving away. She dropped both hair products in Blossom’s basket, not bothering to choose between them.

“Oh please, everybody knows you and the Professor are the syrup fiends in this house.” Buttercup floated after her and waved to Brick. “Hey, tell that shithead to answer my texts. He owes me $20.”

“Uh-huh,” Brick said, fully intending not to mention anything about this conversation to Butch at all.

“Sorry about your favorite brand being sold out,” Blossom said.

It’s fine, he would have said had she not caught his cheek in her hand and pressed a frosty kiss to the corner of his lips before he could do anything about it. Frozen fernlings crept over his cheek and chin, down his neck, and slowly absorbed through his now flushed skin, and he shivered. Without even thinking about it, he reached for her, but she was already walking away to catch up with her sisters.

When she got to the end of the aisle, she shot him a cheeky grin over her shoulder and had the nerve to wink at him. “Stay cool, Brick.”

Red in the face and high on her, Brick just stood there like an idiot gawking at his kind of unofficial girlfriend and the singular dominating object of his fantasies, be they sexual or otherwise. What was dignity when she smiled at him like that? What was a paltry imitation in a bottle when she kissed him like that?

The paltry imitation fell from its hole in the ceiling and exploded on the tiled floor at Brick’s feet with a winter ferocity that, in that moment at least, rivaled Blossom’s in the heat of battle.

When Brick got home later that morning and Boomer asked him why he smelled like a snowman’s asshole, Brick burned the clothes on his back and spent the next half hour in the shower thinking about how he was going to convince Blossom to make the first move and finally make them official.

xxx

Y’all better appreciate the research that went into this fic. That Axe quiz is real and I took it pretending to be Brick, and it literally does spit out a photo of a dude wearing a clown nose in a club. If that’s not a sign from the Daddy that I’ve chosen the righteous path, then idk what is. Sacrifices to my Chrome search history were made for this fic in the name of celebrating Carrie, ergo, worth it.

[let-it-raines]

another kind of green (7/10)

Emma Swan spends her days in pretty white dresses and heavy layers of makeup. Day after day and dress after dress, she poses for pictures and acts like she’s in love and having the happiest day of her life with the man standing next to her.

It’s not. This is all a gig, and at the end of the day, she’s no longer the girl in the pretty dress who’s faking getting married for a magazine cover or a wedding convention. Instead, she’s the girl who probably never wants to get married.

Little does she know, she already is.

Rating: mature

a/n: I apologize for the wait on this one. I’m obviously super spacey lately because I forgot I was supposed to be posting this story🙈

ao3: beginning | current

tumblr: 1 | 2| 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10

-/-

Emma didn’t notice the leaves change.

Yesterday, she swears that she looked outside and all of the trees were full of deep green leaves and that the grass on the ground was an equally vibrant shade. Today, however, there are brown leaves on the ground and orange and yellow leaves hanging off of limbs, and the grass growing next to the sidewalk is browning the slightest bit. She blinked, and the days changed from early September to mid-October.

How in the world?

Where did all of the time go? Wasn’t she just doing a local commercial (her least favorite kind of job) for the autumn festival that’s happening downtown? How is time for that to already be happening? They shoot those weeks and months in advance.

“On your left,” Killian calls out, and Emma doesn’t flinch. She’s used to it.

“You’re late.”

“Traffic.”

“You walk here.”

“A hell of a lot of pedestrians, Swan.”

She rolls her eyes, but she doesn’t slow down her pace, letting her legs keep powering her through this run. She’s on mile two, so Killian really is late. They’ve been getting up and going running a little after six most mornings for the past month. It’s far earlier than Emma would ever normally do it, but she likes having a running partner surprisingly enough and Killian has to go to training at eight every morning. It’s either this or run by herself so that every step is pretty much agony.

Just like she didn’t notice the changing leaves, she never really noticed how Killian wormed his way right into her run.

(At least he buys her smoothies…most of the time.)

(He’s grown fond of his mango one as well, and sometimes she does foot the bill.)

Emma turns to the side to finally look at him. He’s dressed in a pair of joggers and a BPD training sweatshirt he has to wear to the Academy, and he must be leaving directly from here instead of heading back to his apartment to take a shower.

She ran into Graham while grocery shopping last week. He was with his girlfriend, so she didn’t talk for a long time because that’s awkward as hell and she wanted to get out of there as quickly as possible, but she did learn that Killian told Graham that their marriage wasn’t something intentional. She’s not really sure when or where or why, and while something like that would normally piss her off, she’s relieved that the guilt of Graham finding out she got married like that is off her shoulders.

She’d forgotten about seeing him until she saw Killian’s sweatshirt. Graham had one just like that, and life seems to like bringing things back around for her. Maybe she should ask him about talking to Graham, or maybe she should just forget about it and move on.

Everyone else seems to have done so.

“You want to race?”

“Huh?” Emma asks, blinking away until Killian comes back into focus. She’d totally zoned out.

He raises his brows before reaching up to push his hair off his forehead. “Do you want to race me, love?”

“Please,” she scoffs, turning away from him to focus on what’s in front of her, “you couldn’t handle it.”

“Perhaps you’re the one who couldn’t handle it.”

Emma quickly turns to him again. His smirk is obnoxious, and she’s not about to pass that up.

“First one to the bench with marks from where that guy sat on wet paint wins, okay? Loser buys smoothies.”

“You’re on. When do you want to – bloody hell…”

She doesn’t hear the rest of his curse, and she does know that it’s a curse, because she’s already increased her speed and is sprinting as fast as she possibly can. It’s at least half a mile until that bench, maybe a little over, and Emma can run that far this fast without any issue. Her problem is that Killian, even though he was slower than her when he started, has started to catch up to her. His strides are already longer than hers, but with his speed catching up after so much training, she needs every advantage she can get.

Smoothies aren’t something to play around with.

He’d be so obnoxious if he won.

Killian’s on her heels for every step of the run. His muttered words and the panting of his breath hover just behind her, and she knows that if she were to suddenly stop running, he’d stumble over her. But she doesn’t stop. She lets her legs and her lungs burn and keeps going until she gets that adrenaline high that she’s been searching for. It’s been elusive lately, most of her runs dragging along at a snail’s pace, but this isn’t a long run anymore. It’s a sprint to the finish line.

Very literally.

Deep breath in. Deep breath out.

The bench is in her sight now, the poor markings left behind by someone who ruined their pants by sitting in wet paint last week, and she propels herself forward to get there before Killian when she feels a hand on her wrist, tugging her back, until she’s falling to the ground, her elbow hitting hard against the grass until she rolls over onto her back and feels the weight of Killian on top of her.

“What the fuck?” she grunts. All of the breath has been knocked out of her, and Killian’s entire body pressing down on her doesn’t help. “What was that for?”

“Sorry,” Killian grumbles, propping himself up on his elbows to lessen his body weight. His cheeks are flushed a slight pink, and his hair is falling over his forehead in sweaty sections. It makes him look younger than his usual penchant for styling his hair off his forehead. Maybe her brain just isn’t functioning correctly and he looks exactly the same. “Are you hurt?”

“I imagine my ass and my elbow are going to be bruised, but other than that, I’m fine.”

“You were about to be run over by a bike, love. Did you not hear me calling you or the incessant ringing of the bell?”

“Uhhh.”

“Exactly. I saved your life, and I think a little gratitude is in order. I do normally prefer to do more enjoyable things with a woman on her back, after all. Of course, you would know.”

His brows quickly wiggle across his forehead, and when his tongue runs over his bottom lip, heat curls between Emma’s legs that has absolutely nothing to do with how sweaty she is from running.

“Just like our marriage, I’m wiping that part from my memory.” “Ah, but you weren’t drunk for it. You actually remember it. Tell me, darling, what was your favorite part of that night? Was it when my mouth pressed into your neck in the hallway or was it when it pressed into another rater delicious – ”

“Okay,” Emma mutters, pushing her hands up against his chest until he rolls off of her and onto his back on the grass, “that’s enough of that. I haven’t eaten yet today, and you owe me a smoothie.”

Changing the subject. She has to change the subject.

“I don’t believe you won the race.”

“I was going to if you hadn’t tugged me down and nearly caused me to break a bone.”

“I was trying to pull you to the side. You’re the one who went down.”

“Semantics.” “I don’t mean to upset you, Swan, but I think we make quite the team. When it comes to running, of course. I save your life from a horrific bicycle accident, and you, well, I’m not sure what you do.”

Emma sucks in a deep breath before exhaling and twisting her head to the side. Killian’s already looking at her, lips pressed into a soft smile, and he reaches over toward her until his fingers are brushing against her skin as he tucks loose tendrils of her hair behind her ear

Did she just get a chill or was that her sweat drying?

Getting her sports bra off is practically going to be impossible. At least she can do it in privacy.

Sports bras are obviously both the best and the worst.

“I kick your ass in races.”

Killian laughs, finger brushing against her cheek again. Her body is basically a puddle now. “I’ll buy our smoothies, Swan, but you have to agree to let me take you out for your birthday next week.”

“How do you even know my birthday is next week?”

“It was on our annulment papers.”

“Oh.”

Killian twist over until he’s on his side and propping his chin up in his hand and tapping his temple. “I know you may not remember things, at least according to your manager, but I do have an excellent brain up here.”

“I’m ignoring you basically calling yourself a genius because I have to ask: when the hell did you talk to Mary Margaret?”

“Last week. Ariel was talking to her on the phone at a shoot, and they got to talking about how I’m reliable while you are not.” “I have only missed one appointment, but Mary Margaret holds onto that and brings it up every time I almost forget something. It was for an understandable reason, too.”

“And what was that?”

Emma blinks, and her mind catches up to what she just said. Shit.

“It was nothing.”

“Oh, no, it was definitely something. Inquiring minds want to know.”

“Yeah, well, inquiring minds don’t get to know.”

Emma quickly gets up from the ground, moving so quickly that she’s dizzy, but she doesn’t want to be lounging on the grass any longer. People are running by them, dirty shoes near her face, and she doesn’t even want to think about how many animals have relieved themselves where she was just resting her face.

She doesn’t want to think about anything other than getting some calories in her, taking a shower, and meeting Ruby at Flock so they can shoot next month’s catalog of clothes for the website.

“Swan,” Killian calls out, but she keeps on walking. “Swan! Love! Emma!”

“Not in the mood, Jones.”

“You were two minutes ago, and I cannot figure out what I possibly could have done to piss you off in that time.”

“You didn’t do anything.”

“I obviously did something.”

“Can’t you for once just do what I say and leave me alone?”

“Perhaps if you had actually told me to bloody leave you alone.”

Emma quickly turns on her heels to look at him. She nearly smacks herself into his chest, but she doesn’t need another collision with him, not today.

“Killian,” she says slowly, “leave me alone.”

His gaze doesn’t move away from hers, deep blue staring at her and making her want to back away, but she doesn’t. In the back of her mind, she knows he’s done nothing wrong, that he isn’t the one who’s actually pissed her off, but he’s here. What better excuse is there than that?

“If that’s what you want,” he begins, leaning down and giving her a mocking bow with a flourish of his hand, “then that’s what I’ll do.”

-/-

“This is the smallest piece of fabric I’ve ever seen.”

“I’ve seen your underwear drawer, Ems. I know that’s not true.”

Emma rolls her eyes at Ruby and tugs on the top, adjusting it until it covers her boobs. How this boutique expects any normal person to be able to wear this piece of fabric is beyond her.

“It’s ridiculous,” Emma continues, still trying to tug it down, “and this is supposedly a winter sweater. Has anyone here ever actually experienced a winter in Boston? This isn’t going to cut it.”

“Who peed in your Cheerios this morning?”

“That’s a disgusting phrase.”

“It’s obviously very apt today, though.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re a liar.”

“No, I’m just cold.”

Emma turns on her heels and walks back out in front of the camera and the white wall as the photographer and the owner of the boutique wait for she and Ruby to be ready. Emma does the standard poses, flipping her hair and fake laughing, and then she trades off with Ruby until they’ve both gone through the entire catalog of clothes that were on the racks in the side of the warehouse.

This is the weirdest job, and she’s honestly not sure that she enjoys it much anymore. That seems like a problem for a day where she’s not already pissed off at the world.

“I will buy you lunch if you tell me what’s wrong with you.”

“Nope,” Emma sighs, tugging on her coat and fluffing her hair out as they get ready to leave the warehouse. “You cannot bribe me.”

“Okay, but what if we go back to my place, and I make Granny’s onion ring recipe?”

Emma stops and turns to Ruby, her eyes narrowing at Ruby’s wolfish grin. “You’re evil.”

“But you love me.” “That’s debatable.”

“Nah,” Ruby sighs, wrapping her arm around Emma’s shoulder, “it’s really not.”

They walk the fifteen minutes to Ruby and Mulan’s apartment, the chill of the air nipping at Emma’s nose, but once they’re inside and the heat is on and there’s that wonderful smell of onion rings and grilled cheese being cooked, Emma’s no longer freezing. She’s warm and calm and maybe she doesn’t have to be as pissy as she has been today.

“So, Mulan says you haven’t come to class in a few weeks.”

Ruby says it casually, doesn’t even bother to turn around, but Emma knows that this is the beginning of her fishing into what Emma has been doing. The woman isn’t sly at all.

“I’ve been doing other things.”

“Other things or…men?”

“Running. I’ve been running, Rubes.”

“Mhm, and you wouldn’t happen to be running every day with a very handsome man that makes me thankful that I am interested in both men and women while poor souls like you only get men?”

Emma huffs into her glass of water. “How could you possibly know about that?”

“Because I, too, avoid my girlfriend’s Pilates studio and like to go running that path sometimes.”

Well, shit. She didn’t think anyone really knew she was doing that.

“We both run. We happen to run into each other. It’s a thing.”

Ruby turns around and arches a brow, cocking her head to the side. “What’d he do to piss you off today? Might as well just skip to that question.”

“He didn’t piss me off.”

“You don’t get onion rings if you don’t tell the truth.” “Screw you.”

“That was the deal.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not very good at keeping deals.”

Ruby sighs and plates another few onion rings before turning the stove off so that the cackling of the grease quiets down. “You’re going on runs with the man that you married.” Emma opens her mouth, but Ruby holds her finger up. “Yeah, I know about that. You know Marg can’t keep things to herself. I also know that if you want to shake him off, you wouldn’t be spending so much voluntary time with him. So did he actually do something to piss you off that I need to kick his ass for, or is this just Emma being Emma?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know exactly what that means.”

Emma ignores her and reaches up to take an onion ring only for Ruby to hold the plate away from her. “Are you serious?”

“Absolutely.”

Sighing, Emma crosses her arms over her chest and leans back on the barstool. She was pretty sure Ruby was joking about Emma having to talk about her mood, but apparently, she wasn’t.

“Nothing is wrong with me.”

“Yeah, and I’m a rocket scientist.”

“You could be.”

“Emma, do you like your husband? Is that what’s freaking you out?”

“He is not my husband.”

“You’re evading the question.”

“No,” she mumbles, “I’m not, and no, I don’t like Killian. I guess I just slept on the wrong side of the bed this morning. Can I have my onion rings now? The full plate?”

Ruby’s brow stays arched until it falls so it can furrow with her other one. “Do you really not want to talk about it?”

“There’s really nothing to talk about.”

-/-

Emma’s a liar.

She’s a lying liar who lies, but she’s not about to admit that to anyone other than her glass of wine and the can of icing that she’s eating. However many calories she burned today don’t matter because she’s consumed all of them since this afternoon.

It’s totally been worth it.

Mostly.

She can’t binge watch Poldark and not drink wine and eat icing, right? That would just be stupid.

Her phone buzzes on the couch cushion next to her.

Killian Jones: I owe you a smoothie. Is there a chance I can buy you one tomorrow?

Shit. Of course he’s texting her.

And of course he’s being nice.

The man knows exactly how to be an ass. Can’t he be one of those right now?

Can’t she not want to text him back?

Emma Swan: I feel like I should be the one buying you one since I was so bitchy today.

Killian Jones: I wouldn’t say that.

Killian Jones: Because I think you’d murder me if I did.

Killian Jones: And also because it’s not true.

Emma snorts into her wine, taking another sip, and then leaning forward to put the glass on her coffee table.

Emma Swan: It was true. You can say it.

Killian Jones: I’d rather you not kick my ass. You could do it anyways, but training already beat me down today. I’m in a weakened state.

Emma Swan: That bad, huh?

Killian Jones: It was like I ran for six hours without stopping while also having to climb over obstacles and have men my own age yelling at me while twenty-one years old just ran by with no hesitations.

She laughs again before stretching back onto the couch. She should crawl back into bed and get herself comfortable, let herself fall asleep, but this is pretty comfortable too.

Killian Jones: But I love it.

Emma Swan: Yeah?

Killian Jones: It’s awful, but I also feel like I have a purpose, you know? I’ve wanted this for so long.

Emma’s heartrate picks up, and she closes her eyes and drops her phone to her chest. She doesn’t know. She doesn’t have some kind of great want that’s driven her life. She’s always been a foster kid, someone who isn’t sure what’s coming around the corner, and even when she aged out of the system, she still didn’t know. There was Neal and jail and…he ruined her life. Neal ruined her fucking life. He took away her choice for her life, and even though she’s doing okay now, she could be doing better. It’s not something she wants to think about because a decade has gone by since then, since he abandoned her like most everyone else has, but rarely a day goes by where he doesn’t come up in some way.

But really, it hasn’t been a decade. It’s been three years since he showed up at her apartment door, finding her somehow, and acted like not a day had gone by, like he hadn’t done this awful thing to her and like she must still love him.

She didn’t then.

She doesn’t now.

Neal will always be her first love and the person who loved her first, and what a shame that is.

That’s why she missed her shoot that day. Mary Margaret had been pissed, had gotten angry with Emma for maybe the first time ever, but then she’d sobbed into Mary Margaret’s shoulder as everything in her life felt like it was falling apart.

Again.

And here she is letting Neal worm his way into her thoughts again, into her life. He’s not around anymore. She doesn’t know what he’s doing with his life, and he really doesn’t deserve to occupy so much space. She’s been doing it for years, wearing these pretty white dresses at least once a week and pretending to be someone who could even think about getting married when it’s never been what she wanted, not after him.

Not even with Graham.

Maybe one day she’ll figure out how to move on completely and how to leave Neal in the past where he belongs.

She’s got to get out of this headspace before she drinks herself into an oblivion, so she opens her eyes and looks back at her phone. No one can see her face or hear her thoughts, and even if she is absolutely terrified of Killian Jones, he’s the only thing that’s making her feel remotely safe right now.

Emma Swan: I’m happy for you!

Killian Jones: Thank you, love.

Killian Jones: Did I tell you about the guy who is now wearing an eye patch because of an unfortunate fall on the rope climb?

Emma Swan: This sounds like the beginning of a really bad high school soap opera.

Killian Jones: Oh, but it’s even better than that.

Killian tells her the story, as well as several others from his first few weeks at the Academy, and Emma distracts herself with it, finding that it’s easy to get lost in Killian’s stories. Even texting, he has a way with words that has her easily being swept up into the conversation so that her lips tug at the corners and there’s a smile permanently press into her skin. He’s funny and charming and he deals with her shit even when he shouldn’t. He should run away and never look back.

The thought causes her breath to hitch and her chest to pang and…

Maybe Ruby was right. Maybe she does have a thing for Killian.

Oh shit.

-/-

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[cilldaracailin]

A Kind Of Magic

Here is the next part :) 

9

“Encourage, lift and strengthen one another. For the positive energy spread to one will be felt by us all. For we are connected, one and all.”

Taron woke up cosy, the duvet pulled right up to his chin as he lay on his right side.

“Ugh ow.” He groaned. Sleeping on his right side was uncomfortable and painful on his sore arm and ribs and he had been avoiding it, mostly choosing to lay on his back, or left side. He slowly rolled to his back, cringing as he did so, feeling an unpleasant sensation of prickling torment for a few seconds, until his body settled. He looked to his left to see it was just him in the bed, Robyn’s chosen side empty, the duvet neatly pulled up to the pillow. He figured she was the reason he felt so warm and snug under the duvet but he was bothered by the fact that she wasn’t there sleeping. Taron knew without a doubt that Robyn was running on fumes and although she had willingly allowed him in emotionally, he wished he could help her rest and actually sleep.

He reached over to the bedside locker and picked up his phone. Blinking at the bright light as he unlocked the screen checking the time and the day more importantly. He didn’t want to see that he had slept another full day.

“Saturday.” He sighed a relief and even more so when he saw it was actually early morning. Just before ten but frowned when he saw another missed call from Richard. He had completely forgotten to call him back yesterday but he knew Richard would understand when he phoned him and explained why.

As tempting at it was to roll over and snuggle back into the pillow, Taron drew back the duvet cover enjoying the fresh air that the air conditioning circulated around the room and eased himself out of the bed. He didn’t feel as stiff as he did yesterday but was quite tender and sensitive from laying on his hurt side during the night.

He stood up carefully and wandered out in search of Robyn and found her standing at the island in her kitchen, cutting some fruit on a chopping board.

“Good morning.” She said brightly as he sleepily walked in to kitchen.

Robyn was quickly adding a new Taron to her mind as this half awake, messy haired Taron was definitely her favourite yet and she was trying very hard to use this new image of Taron to replace the ones that plagued her dreams last night. His mam had made an appearance too, throwing picture after picture of her son at her, telling her she had killed her child. Robyn had woken up startled at one am, after four hours sleep and just lay in the bed, again watching Taron as he slept. She got up from the bed around four and cleaned her apartment from top to bottom, including the bathroom. At nine she had a quick shower, plaited her hair in two French braids and threw on another pair of demin shorts, a Hawaiian patterned string top along with her blue converse. She opened the doors of the apartment letting the beautiful morning air and sunshine in and had set the garden up for the day pulling out two sun loungers from the garden shed, putting the cushions on the chair swing and plugging in the small water fountain too. She then started her usual weekend morning breakfast routine of making waffles, while listening to music. She was in the middle of cutting up the fruit to go with the waffles when Taron walked into the kitchen.

“Mornin’.” He replied as he stopped and gave her a hug from behind, placing a kiss on her cheek, before moving to lean against the sink.

“Sleep well?” She asked him, hoping he didn’t see the easy blush that rose to her cheeks from his little kiss. She adored how easy Taron was with his affection.

“Yeah. That bed is magnificent. Don’t think I beat my record though.”

“No but close to it. Eleven hours.”

“And how many did you get?” He asked

“A few.” She replied.

“A few?” He probed as he moved to stand beside her. “How many qualifies as a few?”

“Four?” She answered honestly.

“Nightmares?”

“Staring your lovely mam this time.” Robyn knew she couldn’t lie to Taron. He would see through her in an instant.

“Jesus Robyn. My mam?”

She stopped cutting the strawberries and turned to him. “I know your mam would never do what she did in my dream and if it makes it any better, it was four hours uninterrupted. That hasn’t happened for me in a while.”

Taron sighed. He felt guilty for sleeping so soundly when his host struggled so much. “What did you do once you woke?”

Robyn put the strawberries she had cut in a bowl and moved onto the mango beside her. “I cleaned the apartment.”

“Not for my benefit I hope.” He said quickly.

“No, just my usual Saturday clean. I want to get back into some sort a routine like I had before I moved to Florida even with you here and you are not in my way and you are not imposing on me Taron.” She said knowing he was going to apologise for turning up unannounced. “I enjoy having the company and you know I am very glad you are here.”

Taron stole a piece of strawberry from the bowl and skipped around the island as she went to tap his hand away. “I need to take my pain killers with food. What are you making?” He asked picking up his bottles of pain killers, knowing he had to take them twice a day, morning and evening.

“Waffles.” Answered Robyn as she cut around the stone in the mango.

“Waffles?” He stopped and looked at her. “Seriously?”

“It actually is my normal Saturday breakfast. It is not because you are here. I mix it up between waffles and pancakes every weekend. I just fancied waffles this morning.”

“Let me guess, you have a waffle maker.” Taron left his tablets on the counter and walked around to get a glass from the press he knew they were in and filled it with water from the fridge.

“It was actually a present from my friend Claire. I didn’t buy it myself. It is not something I would ever buy for myself but seeing as how I have it, I make use of it, only on the weekends though.”

“Waffles for breakfast and key lime pie for tea last night.” Grinned Taron as he took his painkillers, but Robyn saw his face change once he drank the rest of the water. “My trainer is going to have some job to get me back in shape when I am back filming but not because of you Robyn. I don’t mean it like that.” Taron quickly corrected himself. “I mean because I can’t train or move much. I am going to be such a pudding by the time I am back ready to film.”

“Don’t even Taron.” Said Robyn and Taron was taken back by the annoyance in her voice and looked at her to see a serious look of irritation on her face. “Don’t talk about yourself like that.” She stopped slicing the mango and put down the knife. “No one should talk about themselves like that. This is why I like working with children. They don’t judge. They just see you for who you are and don’t care about what you look like. I wish the world could be seen through the eyes of a child.” Robyn walked around to stand beside Taron. “I thought you didn’t care about that Hollywood shit.”

“Well I don’t but…”

“Exactly but it gets to you and I know it gets to you but it shouldn’t. Want my honest truth?” Taron nodded. He very much valued Robyn’s opinion and words. “As a woman, if I had a choice between Eggsy and Eddie, I would choose Eddie.”

“Really?” He questioned.

“Yes really. I, as a fan of your work, watched interviews of your time of promoting Eddie the Eagle.” Robyn pointed to herself. “Huge Hugh Jackman fan. Anyway, I could easily see how uncomfortable you were every time someone mentioned your physical transformation and it shouldn’t even have been a question asked or commented on. Same for your portrayal as Elton too. It shouldn’t matter and as someone who has struggled with their own body confidence, I know how it feels. Nobody should be judged by how they look but because the world we live in, is one of a shallow photoshop society where magazines and television decide and depict how a man or woman should look, it makes those of us who don’t fit that certain look feel worthless and unattractive. I would choose Eddie over Eggsy any day because that is what is real. I don’t want you thinking that you can’t have something sweet because it will turn you into a so-called pudding. I happen to like pudding and thinking about shit like that fucks with your mind and brings you spiralling down a horrible rabbit hole. You are perfect, whether you are a pudding or a rice cake.”

“A rice cake?” Taron looked at Robyn titling his head.

“It’s the first thing that came to my mind that could compare to pudding but seriously Taron. Don’t starve yourself from something you want because of what is going to happen two months or so down the line. Shouldn’t what happened to us last week, make us even more aware that life is short and we should eat the God damn pudding. This is why I hate the pressure of having to look a certain way, or being judged for how you look because it…”

“Is what inside that counts.” Finished Taron.

“Yes it bloody is and it makes me angry to hear you talk like that. You are beautiful Taron inside and out.”

“Just like you.” Confirmed Taron. “Yes you.” He repeated when he saw that same doubt in Robyn’s eyes that he had felt in his less than two minutes ago. “I wouldn’t have said it in your office if I didn’t believe it and you cannot lecture me on my body confidence and not let me return the favour.”

“Thank you. It has taken me a long time to be comfortable in my own skin but I won’t listen to you bring yourself down like that. Nothing wrong with a little bit of pudding Taron. I told you I preferred Eddie and you are in an Irish house and Irish people feed their guests so I won’t hear you say it again and you will eat everything that is put in front of you and there is nothing stopping us from taking small walks every day and it will help to build your strength back up and the baking has really only been happening because I can’t sleep. I am actually really good during the week. I would go for an hour walk every day after work and I rarely get take out and normally cook nice healthy things and…”

Taron threw his arms around Robyn, stopping her mid-sentence pulling her close for another one of their hugs that said so much without using any words. “Thank you.” He said simply. Taron felt a sudden surge of self-confidence and assurance that he hadn’t felt in a long time and he was completely touched by Robyn’s words and the fact the she noticed how uncomfortable he was when others hadn’t. It was so refreshing to hear Robyn speak so positive about what he considered his faults and he very much appreciated her encouraging words.  “And thanks for putting the knife down before you scolded me. I thought you were going to stab me there for a minute.”

“Well I might still do if you talk about yourself like that again.”

“Luckily you can patch me back up too afterwards.”

Laughter filled the kitchen as they broke the hug. “So, waffles?” Asked Robyn.

“Waffles.” Agreed Taron.

“They come with fruit too.” She said as she walked back around to where she had been chopping the fruit.

“I am just going to have a quick shower and change. Looks like another beautiful day out there.”

“Yeah it’s going to be a scorcher. Figured we could just sit in the garden and listen to music and not do much else.”

“Yes please.”

“Go shower. I shall continue waffling.”

Taron headed back to the bedroom and pulled the duvet up the bed up so it was fully made. He went into the closet and carefully lifted his bag into the bed, straining with the effort and routed through for his wash bag. Grabbing it, he walked into the bathroom and after he had closed the door, saw that Robyn had replaced the towels he had used the day before with fresh red ones. He was actually surprised with the colour of the towels considering Robyn’s apartment was filled with cool blue tones but when he felt the softness of the towel, he knew why she had bought the red ones.

He enjoyed the rainfall shower just as much the second time but didn’t take as long as his muscles weren’t as tense as before. Looking in the mirror he saw something in his face he hadn’t seen for a long time and it was a brightness in his eyes and an almost need to constantly smile and he enjoyed feeling like that again. Routing through his wash bag, he pulled out his razor and made quick work of shaving off his seven-day beard, feeling fresher afterwards. He had to take extra care on the right side of his face but managed to get a clean shave that he was happy with. Running his hands through his damp hair, he walked back into Robyn’s room and changed into a pair of white shorts and a blue flower print t-shirt, just buttoning the bottom two buttons. Not bothering with shoes again, Taron walked back into the kitchen to see Robyn whisking some batter in a bowl with a whisk by hand.

“Need any help?” He asked.

“I am all good.” Replied Robyn and she turned to look at him. “Hey you shaved and you stole my outfit choice.”

Robyn stood with her right hand on her hip and stared at Taron. He looked like he had gotten a new lease of life after his time in the bathroom. His eyes shone with happiness that she had never seen in person before and although his clean-shaven profile highlighted the bruising on his face more, he looked so much more content in himself.

“I stole your outfit choice?” He asked puzzled.

“Yeah, I was dressed before you so I get to rock the Hawaiian vibe.”

Taron then realised what she meant, looking to her patterned top, then to his and grinned. “The print is different though.”

“I like print on you.” Robyn tuned back to whisking the batter in her glass bowl. “It really suits you but you still stole my style for the day.”

Taron laughed. He loved it when Robyn was in this wonderful giddy mood and it made her whole face light up when she laughed with him. “I am sure I can do something to help you.” He insisted.

“In the press to your left, under the hob is the waffle maker. You can take it out for me and plug it on the hob.”

Taron set up the red waffle maker as Robyn had asked. “Does it annoy you that this is red and does not match any of the décor of your home?”

“Dear God yes and that is why Claire bought it for me because she knew it would bug the hell out of me.” Robyn moved the bowl of batter over to where Taron was standing. “But it makes good waffles.” She pulled a ladle from the jar behind the hob and waited for the light to turn green.

“How many piercings do you have?”

“What?”

“I never noticed all the earrings that you had before.”

Robyn turned to him as he leant against the sink. “Yeah I went through a phase in my twenties where I got one new piercing a year. I have ten, waiting to get my eleventh and because my hair is tied back, they are more obvious plus I wear the tiniest studs.”

“Can you have that many working with children? Wouldn’t they pull them out?”

“Actually no. It’s not something that is an issue, not where I work anyway and mine are quite reserved and small studs. The kids like to count them and four are stars so I mean, I am teaching them shapes through my earrings.”

“Which one is your favourite and which one hurt the most.” He asked taking a closer look at her right ear which had the most, small crystal studs in unusual places on her ear.

“My third lobes hurt the most and my favourite is a toss up between the tragus and rook.” Robyn pointed at the piercings as she named them. “They just stay in all the time. I never take them out and I rarely change the actual jewellery. Once they are in, they are in.”

“I have one.” Taron touched his right ear where his empty piercing was. “Just one but it was for my role as Elton. I only put it back in when I was going to Florida. I haven’t been wearing it because of Kingsman. Actually, Doctor Hart had to get the nurse to take it out before the CT scan. She gave it to Richard to mind for me and I just haven’t put it back in yet. I don’t even know where it is.”

“Well if you want a replacement, I have plenty of spares.” The light on the waffle machine turned green and beeped. Robyn turned around and lifted the lid. She poured a ladle of batter into each section and closed the lid. “I have already set the table up outside for us if that’s ok.”

“Yep sounds good.”

“Do you want some tea again or I have some juice in the fridge or I could pull out the coffee maker. I have one, just don’t use it very often.”

“I am going to stick with juice I think.” Taron walked to the fridge and pulled the door open. “Ok so pineapple, orange or tropical?” He asked.

“I like to mix orange and pineapple together.”

“Excellent.” Taron grabbed the two cartons of juice and took them from the door and placed them on the island behind him. He then got two glasses and filled both with half pineapple and half orange, while Robyn pulled two plates out and dished two waffles onto each, making sure she plugged out the waffle maker when she was done.

Taron carried the glasses and Robyn the plates and together they walked out to the garden to the table where they had their eggs the previous night.  Robyn had remembered the cutlery this time and she had a large bowl filled with fruit and some American pancake syrup on the table. “Breakfast of champions.” Smiled Taron as he sat down on the same chair he had been in the night before, Robyn sitting next to him. “You really do this every weekend?” He asked as Robyn handed him the bowl of fruit, a mix of strawberries, mango, raspberries and blueberries that looked very inviting and colourful.

“Yep. Sometimes Claire comes over too but it’s more like a brunch with her rather than a breakfast and we add eggs, sausages and rashers too and if I have any potatoes left over from Fridays dinner, we would chop them up and toss them in as well.”

Taron could hear his stomach rumbling as he spooned some fruit onto his plate. “Sounds like my kind of brunch.”

“There is this little restaurant here that does this amazing breakfast. I will bring you just so can you taste this dish they make called hash – poaches eggs, potatoes, caramelised onion, rashers and hollandaise.”

“Stop it.” Taron paused mid pour of some syrup on the waffles.

“It’s so good.”

“This is so good. Thanks Robyn.” He handed her the bottle of syrup.

“I was making it anyway so it’s just as easy to make for two.”

“Robyn I know I have said it before but you just make me feel so relaxed and calm and I don’t think you actually understand apart from being at home, how hard it is for me to find a place that does that, especially after what happened in the 7/11.”

“You are always welcome here Taron. When you need a break, just call me. Remember how you said I was kind of stuck in your world?” Taron nodded as he chewed. “Well you are very quickly sticking to mine too.”

“Hey, if your world always comes with waffles for breakfast, I am there.”

A natural comfortable silence found the two as they ate their breakfast, the music filtering out to the garden from the sitting room, both enjoying the peace of the morning around them.

“When we are finished breakfast, would you mind putting the small dressing on my shoulder?” Asked Robyn as she sat back in her chair with her glass. “I didn’t do it myself this morning because I knew you had offered to help me.”

“Of course I will.” Taron was about to ask Robyn if she would help him when another voice interrupted him.

“Robyn? Robyn are you up? I can hear the music from the front door.”

Robyn almost dropped her glass, coughing as her drink went down the wrong way, wiping her mouth as juice dribbled down her chin, Taron taking her glass from her hand before it fell onto the deck.

“Robyn, you ok?” He asked as he gentled patted her back.

“Ugh shit. Yes I am but shit. I am just going to say sorry now ok?”

Taron frowned. “Sorry for what?”

“Ahh Robyn! There you are. I figured you would be up but I am surprised you are not sunning yourself already. It’s such a beautiful… Oh who is this?”

Taron watched as Robyn’s hands went to her face, a look of pure embarrassment filling her pretty features.

“Hi mam.”

Robyn got up from her chair to stand, Taron’s hand falling from her back as she moved to greet the lady who had just walked into her back garden. She was slightly shorter than Robyn, with short dark blonde hair, wearing shorts and a white pattern t-shirt with palm leaves on it.

“Hey Robyn.” Robyn’s mam walked over to the table where Taron and her were enjoying their breakfast. “I didn’t realise you had a visitor, a male visitor.” She added, Robyn immediately rolling her eyes to her mother.

“Mam, this is Taron.” Robyn turned to look him, giving him what he hoped was a very apologetic look. “Taron, this is Lizzie, my mother.”

Taron got to his feet to greet Robyn’s mam wincing as he stood, his right side still feeing raw after laying on it all night, his left hand going to his ribs. Robyn noticed the expression of pain on his face and moved closer to him, her hand on his shoulder “Go slow. You’re still hurt.”

He nodded to her and then moved the few steps to greet their visitor. “It is so lovely to meet you Lizzie.” Taron could see the shock on Lizzie’s face as she realised who he was, her blue eyes staring at him, the same shape and colour as Robyn’s.

“Taron as in Robyn’s Taron from the store in Florida?”

He smirked “Yeah I guess you could call me Robyn’s Taron.”

Robyn nearly fell to wooden deck with embarrassment as her mam finally put two and two together and grasped who Taron was.

“I usually just go by Taron though.” He added, taking a look to Robyn who was sitting on the arm rest of the chair looking absolutely mortified, finally shaking Lizzie’s hand.

“Ah wow, hi. It’s nice to meet you too.” Lizzie shook Taron’s hand, taking a look to her daughter. “You didn’t tell me Taron came to see you.”

“Guess it slipped my mind.” Replied Robyn.

“Slipped your mind?”

“Yeah, just slipped.”

Lizzie gave her daughter a very disapproving look, one that Taron saw clearly. “Well I am very glad to meet you Taron, especially after what you and Robyn have been through. Such a frightening experience for you both.”

Taron moved back so he stood beside Robyn on her left and took her hand in his. “Yes, it was but having Robyn there made it much easier for me.” He gave her hand a gently pat. “I kind of turned up unexpected and Robyn has been nothing but a gracious host.” Taron looked to Lizzie. “It’s thanks to your daughter that I am standing here. She is a truly remarkable woman and I am very blessed that she was willing to help a complete stranger.”

“She has her moments.” Smiled Lizzie, watching he held tightly onto Robyn’s hand. She thought her daughter looked tired until she took in the appearance of the man who stood beside her. Painful looking bruises and grazes spoilt his handsome face, stitches were visible on his right arm and with the few buttons open at the top of his shirt, Lizzie could clearly see where her daughter had performed the lifesaving actions that meant he was standing in front of her but more than that, she could see the connection the two had, how they were turned to each other probably without even knowing they were doing so.

Lizzie was extremely proud of her daughter if not a little angry at her for leaving Florida so quickly. She had told Robyn she should have stayed until Taron woke up, that what had happened between the two of them was so much more important than her job but Robyn being Robyn, ignored her emotions and went head first back into work.

She was stunned to see the man whose Robyn spoke so fondly of now sitting in her daughters back garden, eating breakfast with her. However, she was also glad in a way as she saw how distant Robyn had been since she got home and was very worried about how she was reacting to what had happened to her, in that she wasn’t at all, keeping her feelings to herself. It concerned Lizzie knowing that even as her mother she couldn’t help her daughter and she had no idea of the trauma that she had been through, so seeing Taron in front her gave her some hope that he might be able to break through the thick barriers that her daughter had built. She could see that maybe already he had done so as he held Robyn’s hand in hers. “My Robyn tends to get stuck in when she needs to. Gets in her trouble sometimes too but she always has everyone’s best interest at heart.”

Taron agreed. “Yes she does and I know I am very grateful for it.”

“So how long have you come to stay for?” Asked Lizzie but seeing the look exchanged between Robyn and Taron, knew that conversation hadn’t happened yet.

“Taron knows he is welcome to stay for as long as he would like.” Robyn gave his hand a little squeeze.

“I haven’t actually thought that far to be honest.” Answered Taron. “But if Robyn is happy to let me stay for as long as I like and keeps feeding me waffles for breakfast, I might not leave.”

“Right it’s porridge and water from now on!” Laughed Robyn, enjoying how Taron chuckled along with her.

“What is your shift next week Robyn?” Asked Lizzie.

“I am opening again. The new girl is on the early shift so Emma wants me there to help train her in and get used to opening the creche.”

“Great. You and Taron must come over for dinner then next week then.”

“Wait what?” Robyn looked to her mam.

“Yes yes. I want both of you over for dinner next week. The weather is supposed to stay like this until the middle of next week so let’s say Tuesday? Your dad will be thrilled to start up the BBQ.”

“Mam I think Taron would like to use this time to rest and relax after what happened and not sit through an interrogation of questions.”

“Actually…” Started Taron looking to Robyn. “I would love to have dinner with your family. I know how much your family means to you and you know how much mine means to me, so if we could, I would very much like to get to know yours.”

Robyn could see the genuine look of interest in his eyes and turned back to her mam. “What time?”

“Say seven? It will give you time to get home and ready to come over and we won’t ask too many questions Robyn. We will limit it to ten each.”

“Oh dear God.” Sighed Robyn, Taron and Lizzie both laughing at her reaction.

“Ok great. Your dad will be delighted. Now I shall leave you to your breakfast. It was lovely meeting you Taron.”

“You too Lizzie.”

“Robyn come and hug your mother.”

Robyn let go of Taron’s hand and gave her mam a hug. “He’s cute.” She whispered into her daughters’ ear. “And you’re doing a very wonderful thing looking after him. He looks like he needs it.” Robyn gave her a mam an extra squeeze.

“Taron, you too love.” Robyn moved back and let Taron take her place, Lizzie being extra careful as she hugged him. “Look after my daughter for me.” She felt Taron give the slightest of nods before she let him go. “Right well, if you need anything you know where I am Robyn.”

“Thanks mam.”

Lizzie left the way she came with a wave, Robyn sitting on the arm of her chair again, while Taron stood in front of her.

“I like your mam. She’s very like you and parents were made to embarrass their children. I think it’s just natural law.”

“I am so sorry she just invited us to dinner like that. You did not have to feel obliged to go.”

“I don’t feel obliged. I want to go. I would really like to get to know your family better Robyn and also, thank you for saying I can stay for as long as I would like.”

“I just hope you know what you have walked yourself into and don’t look to me for help when the questions get awkward and you are welcome.” Robyn stood up. “Let’s get this cleaned up and then I am claiming a sun lounger for the rest of the day.”

[cynoirsure]

coconut pancakes | cyj

pairing — little brother!yeonjun & older sis!reader

word count — 2,148

genre — fluff

summary — your brother comes to stay during your last few weeks of break. did you forget to mention he was famous and part of the rookie group tomorrow x together? and he’s the idiot who threw out his back too.

warnings/tags — some minor language, but nonetheless this is all just pure sibling love!

a/n — originally this was gonna be part of the rush!beta tau universe and this was gonna be choi sib fluff :] but i decided to not do it!! i love yeonjun like a little brother although hes a month older than me, and also the reader and yeonjun are irish twins! so they’re born within a year of each other but they’re not twins, hence the reason why they’re so close! enjoy some fluff!! 

also, there’s some lingo in here that i totally forgot to edit to say what they were, but konbini is slang for the convenience store and TLJ is just tous les jours, which is a bakery hehe~

---

The last days of your first summer vacation of university were upon you. 

You had spent a majority of your time either in summer classes (which was seriously, your worst decision ever. It might have been to get the classes you do during the fall and spring semester out of the way, but sitting in a film class from 7 to 10 pm every night? Not only was it hard keeping awake in class every night, but now you can’t watch a movie without analyzing the camera angles and if the music was diegetic or non-diegetic) or working, and while you were happy you had a stable job with a good pay, this meant that you were rarely ever home. The restaurant that you were working at was only open for dinner service, and you as a server worked until midnight and didn’t get home until 1 am. 

Thankfully enough, the summer classes had ended. You had two weeks before you had to pack up everything and move back into your dorms for 15 weeks and repeat the whole process over again, and you were going to spend every moment that you weren’t working catching up on the sleep that film class robbed of you.

Or at least, that’s what you thought.

See, your younger brother was an idol. An idol from the group Tomorrow X Together, who had been real popular in recent months for being a popular rookie group. You knew they were two awards in and you knew something in your gut was telling you that the end of the year awards show might either make or break them personally. 

Alas, their schedules had been stopped for a while. Their leader had an infection in his eye and the eldest member had thrown out his back out or something.

Your brother had been the one to throw out his back, by the way. 

Your parents thought it would be best for you to have Yeonjun stay over in your apartment, which was near your university in Seoul. You didn’t mind, but you felt a little bad because you were rarely home and that meant Yeonjun was lonely for most days.

On days you were home though, you tried to spend as much time as you can with him. The two of you would usually lounge around on the couch and talk about what the other missed while they were away, things that couldn’t be said in your family group chat. Yeonjun filled you in with all his wild stories from when he was in America with his band mates, and you filled him in with all your stories from your first year in college. It was something that you dearly missed, and since you two were close in age, you had a lot of similarities that weren’t just physically obvious.

The only difference between you two was that he was an early bird and you were a night owl. Yeonjun was used to the schedules waking him up at the hours that you would call it a night. The two of you had attempted to adjust your sleep schedules for the other, but he had also only been over for a few days and you were still getting used to sleeping earlier to adjust.

“Noona… I’m hungry.”

Yeonjun sleepily walked into your room, ruffling his hair. You were knocked out asleep, given the fact that you had only gone to sleep an hour or two prior to your younger brother coming into your room. He made his way to lay on top of you, earning a groan from under the bedsheets. You reached over to hit him with one of the Apeach plushes on your bed, the weight on your bed dipping and the younger boy clinging onto you.

“Why can’t you just cook for yourself? You keep saying in your lives that you’re the best cook but honestly, I’m starting to doubt it.” You mumbled sleepily, Yeonjun whining above you. 

“Because noona, you don’t even have spaghetti. I can’t make spaghetti olio e aglio without spaghetti noodles…” Yeonjun nudged you softly, the pout that’s usually in his voice coming out more. “Plus, it’s like, 8:30. You need a regular eating schedule too, noona.” Yeonjun managed to pull you upright, letting you sit up on your own. You grabbed onto your pillow, blindly patting for your glasses before unfolding them and putting them on. Yeonjun had moved off your bed and opened your curtains, the bright light that’s usually hidden by your no-show curtains feeling like the artificial light after watching a movie in class. 

“That can’t be the only reason, you and I both know that there’s a konbini and a TLJ across the street from here, you could’ve easily just bought yourself some like. Cake or something, I don’t know what you were craving.” You felt the weight dip down on the other side of the bed, and a little huff. 

“... I missed noona’s cooking.” He whispered, leaning onto your shoulder. You stopped fiddling with the bedsheet, before sighing. You shifted slightly, Yeonjun moving off of you and both of you exiting the bedroom to go into the kitchen.

You opened your pantry, humming under your breath as you contemplated what to make for both of you for that morning. Your mind immediately went to pancakes, thinking about an early memory you both had shared.

“Yeonjunie, can you pull out the coconut milk from the fridge? Oh, and some butter and eggs…” You were busy yourself reaching for the dry ingredients from the fridge, Yeonjun’s smile splitting into a grin when he realized what you were making for him. He grabbed the refrigerated ingredients and some bowls for you, a small thank you in order as you began to measure everything. 

“Coconut pancakes? How’d you know I was craving those specifically?” Yeonjun asked, grabbing a cup from the cabinet next to your head. He began to pour himself some of the mango juice in your fridge, following you around the kitchen like a baby duckling.

“It’s your favorite. You might be famous and all now, but that doesn’t mean your taste buds have switched up on me, right?” You shooed Yeonjun out of the kitchen, the younger one already knowing that you couldn’t do anything without music playing in the background. He walked over to your speaker system, plugging in his phone and scrolling for music. After a few beats of silence, Post Malone and Swae Lee’s Sunflower started playing on the stereo, a smile creeping up on your own face when you heard the song choice.

“I approve of this.” You laughed at the way that Yeonjun wiggled along to the song, your brother grabbing a glass of juice from the refrigerator and looking out of the window. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen this much light in my apartment either.” You noted, combining the dry ingredients into the wet. Yeonjun only laughed at your revelation, shaking his head. 

“Because you wake up so late, noona. I thought you died when I woke up the first day here.” Yeonjun joked with no harm, but nonetheless a gasp came from you of fake offense. 

“Bitch, I thought you died when they sent out the MGMA announcement that you weren’t performing. Did you throw it back too hard? Is that why your back hurts?” You teased, the playful banter familiar to you two. Yeonjun only laughed at your worry, shaking his head.

“I didn’t know you kept up with us that heavily, noona.” You froze, the batter of the pancake that you were beginning to flip over sizzling due to the uncooked side sliding over to the heat of the pan. You continued to flip the pancake in order to prevent further damage, rolling your eyes.

“Alright, you caught me red handed. I have Twitter notifications on for you guys… And I tune into all your V Lives too.” You confessed, a grin spreading on Yeonjun’s face. He set down his glass on the kitchen island where he’d start to clear up some of the mess of papers from your classes, stacking them in a corner before sneaking up behind you and hugging you from behind. You almost screeched, thwacking his hand gently with the rubber spatula you were using to cook the pancakes. 

“Why don’t you just be affectionate with your brother like a normal sister?” Yeonjun pulled away, soothing the slap on his hand. He pulled the placemats from the drawer, placing them down and searching for the plates he had washed last night so you could put the pancakes on them after cooking them. “Hyuka’s sisters always text him, it’s cute.” 

“Because I forget the family chat exists until you text us.” Your reply comes with a soft laugh. You place half of the pancakes on your plate and the rest on his plate, grabbing the whipped cream from the fridge and putting dollops of it on top of the stacks of pancakes you had just made. “It’s not intentional, but sometimes I’m so busy that I forget to look at my phone… The only time I look is when you post something or if you send pictures to our group. And then I realize it’s too late to text you…” You frown, picking up the plates. Yeonjun reaches for one of the plates you’re carrying, humming along to the music playing. 

“You shouldn’t let that stop you, noona. Besides, we’re probably still in rehearsal by the time you’re done doing your school stuff.” Yeonjun smiled at you, nudging your shoulder as you round the table to sit next to him. You purse your lips, thinking over what your younger brother just said. “Plus, you make it seem like I’d be too tired to talk to you. Which, I never am, since we’re so close without being twins.” Yeonjun and you said grace before cutting into your pancakes, giving you time to let everything sink in. You stopped mid-chew, tears brimming at your eyes. 

“Noona? Are you okay?” Yeonjun spun your bar chair around as well as his own, squishing your cheeks. You leaned forward and gave him a tight hug, a squeak coming from him before he laughed and hugged you back. 

“I’m glad you’re my little brother, Yeonjunie. I would give you the world if it guaranteed us as siblings.” You smiled at him, Yeonjun only laughing as he rubbed your back. Sure, you weren’t the perfect older sibling, but Yeonjun knowing that you’re doing so many little things to contribute towards the success of their group was just enough for him. You decided it was a good idea to keep the conversation light again, so you hummed a note before you asked your next question.

“Are the babies treating you well?” You pulled back and continued to eat your pancakes. The mention of his younger members made Yeonjun groan, causing you to laugh. 

“I swear they’re such bullies to me, noona. You watch the lives too right? I’m BULLIED by my members every time I invite them to play games with me!” The pout in his voice was enough to make you laugh, shaking your head. 

“This is why they call you the fake maknae, Yeonjunie. You allow yourself to get bullied by the other members…” Yeonjun punched your arm lightly, grinning.

“That’s why I love staying with you, because you don’t know it but you baby me. I don’t have any responsibilities when I’m here.” He grinned. You sighed, rolling your eyes as you swallowed more of the pancakes. 

“Because you threw it back too hard. I’m supposed to look over you, I’m not a shitty sib, Yeonjunie. And because you said you don’t have responsibilities here, I’m making you wash the dishes.” You heard a whine from him, the two of you finishing up your pancakes while Jeremy Zucker played in the background. 

The dishes ended up being a partner deal, and after breakfast you two decided to go to the supermarket to pick up some more things before you headed off to work. The car ride to the supermarket was filled with music, the two of you singing obnoxiously loud to Fancy (no matter how annoying you thought the song was), as well as peppered with Yeonjun’s terrible dad jokes. (“you need to stop hanging out with Seokjin oppa. He’s tainting your already bad dad jokes.” “that’s not very nice of you”)

“Noona?” Yeonjun called your name as you were putting away the yogurt in the refrigerator, him putting the spaghetti away in the pantry. You closed the refrigerator, raising an eyebrow at your younger brother. 

“What’s up?” You saw a smile spread across his face as the two of you made eye contact, his head bobbing. 

“Nothing, I just wanted to say you’re the best, but I’m pretty sure you already know that.”

[vampwrrrmistresslist]

Riding the Red 5

A/N:  This is chapter 5 of an in progress fic, the links for which can be found on my mistresslist.

You gradually regained consciousness, warm and surrounded by softness, then stretched, your limbs sliding over the flannel bedclothes, luxuriating in their comfort. Lying in bad, you thought about the previous day, specifically how pleasant it was to watch Chanyeol’s muscles running like water under his skin. You frowned as your thoughts turned to other matters, such as how long you were going to be snowed into the cabin.

You had responsibilities that needed your attention, not to mention the fact that, having disappeared without a word, everyone would be thinking that some harm had befallen you. You would see if Chanyeol could clear the snow from the dish so that you could at least email your parents and grandmother. They could contact the school. That plan in mind, you rose to begin your day.

You dressed quickly in charcoal yoga pants and a black racer-back tee. Searching the room, you located several pairs of shoes under the bed, and pulled out a pair of black Converse. You found Chanyeol in the exercise room, already hard at his run. He nodded at you, and you smiled, walked over to a free spot on the floor, dropped down, and began to stretch. Chanyeol watched hungrily, yet covertly, as you made your limber way through various splits and stretches. Climbing on the elliptical beside him, you began to work. Forty minutes later, you were out of breath and ready to quit, and he had yet to break stride. After a five minute cool down, you jumped off the machine to go shower. As you were leaving, you didn’t see Chanyeol’s tongue flash around his mouth, licking his lips. You still hadn’t found a bra, and he hated to see you go. He sighed, ruefully thinking at least the view of you walking away was just as good. Back in your room, you pulled out a button-down cashmere patchwork sweater-dress, in varying shades of green, and paired it with eggplant sweater tights. You carried your booty to the bathroom, where you took a leisurely shower, this time using a thick, rich shower cream that smelled sweetly of mimosa. After your shower, you braided your hair into one thick French braid that you laid over your shoulder, and pushed back the tendrils curling about your face with an aubergine velvet headband. By the time you emerged from your room, Chanyeol had finished his run, and was outside shoveling snow. You searched through the kitchen, trying to choose what to prepare for breakfast. You decided to make a simple breakfast of white whole-wheat currant cream scones, scrambled eggs, and fruit salad. By the time you were cutting the scones, Chanyeol came in, stamping snow from his feet. “Well hello,” you said. “How did you sleep?” Chanyeol gave you an oblique look and said, “Not as poorly as I have been. Not as well as I could have.” His eyes dipped down, caressing your breasts as you pressed against the fabric of your sweater. “Nor as well as I will.” You smiled to yourself, having grown somewhat inured to Chanyeol’s bold manner of speaking. You leaned close to him, stretching until your mouth was a few scant inches from his, and paused until his expression changed, and his body grew still in anticipation. Dragging your eyes to his you licked your lips, and then whispered, “Go take a shower you beastly creature!” Chanyeol threw his head back and laughed. Nudging past you with his hip, he loped to his room to bathe. Once he left, you pulled strawberries, a pineapple, lychees, green, purple, and red grapes, and a mango from the refrigerator. When you searched for yoghurt, however, all you could find was a plain single serving container of Greek-style. “Note to self,” you thought, “make more yoghurt…” You chopped the fruit and put it in a bowl, and then moved on to the eggs, scrambling them, and then pouring them into a cast iron skillet coated with hot olive oil. When they had set, you grated a healthy dose of Dubliner cheddar over them, and put them on the back burner so that the residual heat would cook them and melt the cheese. By the time Chanyeol returned, smelling sweetly of soap, you were pulling the scones out of the oven.

You had just put the food on the table, so Chanyeol went to the cabinets to pull out dishes and flatware. You took the opportunity to run your eyes over his wide shoulders, straining against the nubby fabric of his charcoal turtleneck sweater, to his long legs encased in black lamb’s wool trousers. “What are you going to do with this peeled pineapple?” he queried. “Hm?” you said, quick-witted as treacle. “Oh, that was supposed to go into the salad! I was distracted—-I’ll just cut it up and toss it with the others.” You began to slice the pineapple, when Chanyeol walked by, smelling so good that you closed your eyes for a moment. Suddenly he turned, harshly biting, “You cut yourself.” You looked down to see a small slice on your middle fingertip on which blood was just starting to drip onto the fruit. “Oh,” you said hesitantly, nonplussed by the fact that he had noticed before you. “I’m sorry; I’ll just get rid of this—” “No need,” he said, slowly walking toward you. “I trust you.” Taking your hand, he brought the injured finger to his mouth and slipped it inside, gently sucking away the blood from the small wound. “See?” You swallowed hard, your eyes fixed on your own small hand nestled in his large, rough ones. When you looked up, Chanyeol was watching you, his pupils once again strangely dilated. You gently swayed toward him, and he let your finger slip from his mouth. His warm, minty breath fanned your face, and you blushed at the turn that your thoughts were taking. You looked away and heard him sigh. Reaching around you, he took the plate of pineapple, and mixed it with the rest of the fruit. Sitting down, you quietly began to eat. “Are there any preserves?” Chanyeol asked, breaking the silence. “No,” you responded. “I did, however, locate plenty of frozen fruit, fruit juice, and pectin, so I’ll make some later. Also, you’re pretty much out of yoghurt, so I’ll make some more of that, too.” Chanyeol stared at you for a second, and then grinned wolfishly. “Who are you? You can make all of this stuff from scratch? You’re like some atavistic creature from ‘Little House on the Prairie’.” She laughed, all of the previous tension draining from the room. “I like to be able to make things myself. That way I know what’s going into it, and I never run out, as long as I have the raw ingredients.” “Will you show me how?” Chanyeol asked. “You want to learn how to make preserves?” you asked incredulously. “Why not,” he responded comfortably. “I’m always up for learning a new skill.” Then, slyly, “…and I couldn’t ask for a prettier teacher.” You grinned, cocky. “How’s this afternoon?” “Sure. It’s not like we have any pressing engagements.” “Oh, that actually reminds me…I was wondering if it’s at all possible that you could, well, try to clear the snow from the dish. Just for a little while? I need to let my parents and Grandmother know that I’m alright, and tell them to call the school for me.” Chanyeol looked pensive for a moment. Slowly, he said, “Alright. I’ll do it after breakfast which, by the way, is delicious. Thank you for feeding my bottomless pit.” He put his hand over his abs. “Well, it feels nice to see pleasure on someone’s face because of what you’ve made.” “If you want to see pleasure on my face, I can show you a much more interesting way to–” He ducked, laughing as a napkin narrowly missed his head. After you had eaten, and the dishes had been washed, Chanyeol put on his coat to go try to clear the snow from the dish. He opened the door and peered outside at the quickly falling snow. “Go into my room; my laptop is on my bed. As soon as the web is up, make your emails—-with this snow, I don’t know how long I’ll be able to stay up there, keeping it clear.

You nodded, feeling awkward for making him do something so potentially dangerous. Putting your hand on his arm, you looked up into his eyes, and offered him a sincere "Thank you.” He looked at you briefly, then back outside. Smiling as he started, he said, "You’ll just have to owe me a favour.” You watched as he made his way to the shed, stomping down snow onto the path that he had just shoveled that morning. As he made his way back toward the house with the shovel, you trotted to his room, and opened the door. A warm puff of spicy air surrounded you, smelling strongly of him. Closing your eyes, you inhaled deeply, enjoying the luxury of being able to unabashedly take pleasure in his scent. When you opened your eyes, you looked around the room. Neat as a pin, it was done in dark emeralds, chocolates, neutrals, and russets, and all of the wood was dark cedar. It was similar to your room, which was done in autumnal tones and cherry wood, but his was definitively masculine. No diaphanous curtains hung around his bed, no candles littered his dresser or nightstands. You saw an open door leading to his bathroom, which was almost Spartan, housing only soap, and shaving implements. Another door led to a closet, you were sure, but you weren’t bold enough to take a peek, even though curiosity burned. You quickly walked over to his bed and climbed on—-it was much higher than yours—-curling yourself around his laptop. The screen came on as you moved it, the desktop a vivid green picture of a lush forest. His desktop was curiously bare, but you shrugged, assuming that his propensity for neatness must run to his computer, as well. As you were looking for the internet icon, a neat little pop told your that the wireless was back up. You went to your email and quickly typed a message to your parents and grandmother, saying that you couldn’t talk long, but you were safe, and briefly explaining the fact that you hadn’t previously contacted them because of the accompanying hardships that followed being snowed-in in a remote cabin in the woods.

You heard a sharp curse come from the roof, and a loud dragging noise that ran to the end of the room. You quickly clicked “Send”, just as a small “poof” and an impassioned expletive came from under the window. Running over to it, you opened it to find Chanyeol buried in the snow, under a very large dish, and a complicated array of wires. “Are you alright?!”

“Ow.” “Hold on—I’m coming out there!” “No, no,” he said. “I’m alright. The snow broke my fall. I’m afraid that the dish didn’t make it, though. Did you get to send your email?” “Yes, just.” Chanyeol grunted. Then, in a surprising display of athleticism, he flipped from his back to his feet. You gasped in surprise and delight, and grinned. “I guess you certainly are alright.” He nodded brusquely, wrapping the cords around the dish. “I’m just going to go put this in the shed. I’ll be in in a moment.” Nodding uncertainly, you watched him trying to make his way toward his shoveled path, in the now waist-deep snow. You gave the snow a pensive look. It seemed as if there were periods when it would melt at a rapid rate, but before things became manageable, it would begin to snow again, leaving you buried in the white fluff. You had never seen such odd-acting weather. Sighing, you shrugged and closed the window, laughing ruefully to yourself as you made your way to the kitchen. It’s not as if anyone could control the weather. You put some milk on the stove to warm, for hot chocolate. You were just stirring in the blocks of bittersweet, when Chanyeol tumbled into the kitchen in a blast of frigid air and powdery snow, breathing heavily. You stared at him for a moment, before starting forward to help him remove his heavy grey wool coat and scarf. Chanyeol ripped the hat from his head and fluffed his hair. His cheeks were ruddy, and his eyes were shining. He grinned broadly, lifted his nose and sniffed the air. “Cocoa?” he asked hopefully. You nodded, handing him his wrappers. “You spiked it!” he playfully accused. “Bailey’s Irish Cream,” you grinned. By the time he returned from hanging up his coat and scarf, you were grating cinnamon into the thick drinking chocolate. He chafed his hands, watching you while you poured the cocoa into mugs, topped them with a healthy dollop of marshmallow fluff, and handed one to him. Chanyeol gratefully wrapped his hands around the warm mug, inhaling the fragrant steam. He tipped the mug to gingerly take a sip, groaning when it hit his tongue. When he lifted his face from the mug, his upper lip was charmingly dotted with fluff. “I may just have to kidnap you, when the snow is gone,” he said, smiling angelically. “I’m very frightened,” you deadpanned. “Also, you have a bit of…ah…” you gestured toward his lip. His curiously mobile tongue flickered out and made neat work of the fluff. Silence reigned for a while, as you had definitively un-friend-like thoughts. By the time you came to, Chanyeol had finished his hot chocolate and had covertly started in on yours. “Well,” you said, briskly clearing your throat and wiping your hands on your thighs. “Let’s get on with the jam-making.” You went hunting for jars, and found some empty glass honey jars that would do nicely. Chanyeol filled a stock pot with water, and put it on the stove to sterilize them, while you perused the freezer. “What type of jam or jelly would you like?” You asked. He shrugged. “I’ll take whatever you want to give me.” You flashed him a sideways glance and said tartly, “Your choices are pomegranate, raspberry, apple, or cherry.” “Why not all? That way we can have variety,” he answered. You nodded thoughtfully. “You do have a point.” You began pulling labeled freezer bags from the deep freezer and handing them to him to put on the table. Then you looked under the counters and pulled out a few bottles of apple cider, and pomegranate juice, and grabbed the packets of pectin from one of the cabinets. “Okay. The jelly will be the easiest, so let’s start that first,” you said. “Grab a sauce-pot and put it on the stove.” While he was doing that, you popped the bags into the microwave to defrost. You filled the pot with cider, let it reduce to a third, then divided that into two bowls, and added the pectin to one of them. When that dissolved, you poured some of it, along with more juice, back into the pot, and let it come to a rolling boil for about a minute. “Take out one of those jars from the stockpot and put it on the counter, will you?” Chanyeol cautiously fished one of the jars out of the boiling stockpot, and put it on a coaster. You carefully poured the boiling juice into the jar until it was almost full, then gestured for Chanyeol to put on the lid. “Now what?” he asked. “Pop it back into the stockpot to process for about 10 minutes.” He did so. “And that’s your first jar of jelly. Easy, no?” you teased. He smiled slowly. “I feel so Martha Stewart right now.” Uou rubbed his back. “As well you should, you manly jelly-maker, you. Now back to the grind. You should have read the fine print, my lovely jam-slave. We have one jar down, and three to go.” After repeating the process for the pomegranate jelly, you were ready to make jam. “Would you grab two bowls for the fruit?” you inquired. After Chanyeol set them down on the table, you poured the defrosted bags of fruit into the bowls, and grabbed the masher from the drawer. “Now mash them.” “Me?” he protested. “Hey, you wanted to learn. You have to obey Teacher,” you grinned. “Obey, hm? This could be fun,” he said, mashing the fruit. As he did that, you poured more cider on the stove to reduce, and procured another bowl. “Okay, now I’m mixing the pectin with some of this reduction.” When that was done, you took another pot and poured in the raspberries and some of the pectin mixture and let it come to a full boil, then poured in more of the cider reduction. After letting it boil for a full minute, you turned it off. “Why aren’t we filling another jar?” Chanyeol queried. “We could, but then all of the fruit would float to the top,” you responded. He nodded sagely. “Ah yes. That could destroy worlds.”

You giggled, gently punching him in the shoulder. After 5 minutes, you filled another jar with the raspberry mixture, repeated the sterilization process, and made the last jar of cherry jam. Chanyeol collapsed into a chair with a long-suffering sigh. You dimpled. “Oh, come on! It wasn’t that bad!” He shook his head. “I don’t know if I can make it another step without sustenance,” he said, raising his eyes hopefully.

You rolled your eyes and said, “You clean, I cook.” “I suddenly have a second wind,” he laughed. After Chanyeol finished the dishes and wiped down the counters, he sat down at the table and grinned endearingly. “I am ready for you to prepare items for my gustation.” You burst out into peals of laughter. “You are slightly ridiculous, do you know that?” He put his hands on your hips and guided you to stand between his legs. Smiling up into your face he said, “Yes, but you like me for it.” Slightly breathless you could do little more than nod acquiescence. Smiling tremulously, you backed away and turned toward the deep freezer. Chanyeol’s eyes tracked your every move as you bent over to pull out a plank of salmon. By the time you turned around, you were once again in possession of your faculties. “How’s salmon?” “Sounds good,” he said, softly. You nodded, your chin firm, and reached into the refrigerator for broccolini, feta, a lemon, and an orange. “We’re having it with pasta.” Chanyeol leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms behind his head. “My stomach likes it when you’re bossy.” You flashed him a campy look, patting your hair, and saying in a vampy Mae West impression, “And what of the rest of you?” “Oh, I’m sure all of my various and sundry body parts would like it, if only given a chance,” he winked. Sighing deeply as you raided the pantry for shallots, garlic, cumin, olive oil, red wine vinegar, and whole-wheat linguine, you rejoined, “I have the sneaking suspicion that some of your body parts would like it six ways from Sunday.” Smiling indulgently, he moved his hands to lace them over his taut belly. “You’re not wrong.” You smiled secretly as you put on the water to boil, preheated the oven to 500 degrees, and sliced the lemon, onions, and garlic. Though it was true that you were a bit overwhelmed by his blatant flirtation, there was a blossoming part of your that reveled in it. You felt by turns shy and powerful, and it was a new, heady feeling. Unlike the sweet, endearing boys that you were used to, Chanyeol had an underlying layer of iron that made you simultaneously wary of, and attracted to him. You felt pretty confident that he would never force you, but you knew that if he actually turned on the full measure of his charm and persuasion, you would be lost.

You decided to poach the salmon en papillote, laying down the parchment paper, and then placing the salmon on a bed of lemon and onions. “Don’t you need to thaw it?” Chanyeol asked. “No, salmon can be cooked from frozen,” you responded distractedly, as you sprinkled salt, cumin, and sliced garlic over the top. After you put it into the oven, you poured the pasta in to boil, and set the broccoli to steam on top in the strainer. Over your shoulder, you saw Chanyeol moving his hands, and you asked, “Are you rubbing together your hands like a cheesy 50’s sci-fi villain?” He paused, his face carefully blank, then gave a wolfish grin and said, “Maybe. I’m just excited. It all smells so good.” “Well, gird your loins and set the table, because it’s almost done,” you said, zesting the orange into a bowl of vinegar, and salt. You whisked in the olive oil, then drained the pasta and tossed it, the feta, and the broccolini into the bowl. “Could you toss this, while I grab the salmon?” you requested, already turning, confident in his acquiescence. “ I see that you’re a natural at giving orders,“ he chuckled. Giving him an arch look, you riposted, "And you’re a natural at following them, so grind some pepper over it all, would you? You’re going to have to work for your supper.” “It seems as if I’m going to have to work for everything,” he said meaningfully. “Anything worth having is worth the work put into it,” you parried. Chanyeol conceded with an inclination of his head. “I’m counting on it.” This time, you didn’t back down. You blushed furiously, but held his gaze until he looked away. Your heart tripped in your chest as you sat beside him at the circular table. You reached for the tongs, but he stopped you. “No,” he said, “Let me serve you.” Sitting down, you studiously watched his strong hands as he put food on your plate. There was something exceedingly intimate about being served food by him, but you couldn’t put your finger on what made it so. You grinned broadly as you watched him pile his plate high. “How are you this hungry? We just had breakfast a few hours ago,” you said, poking his belly. “I’ll have you know that I have a very high metabolism. This,” he said, indicating his body, “is a finely honed machine. It requires a lot of fuel to look this good!” Smiling, you gave him an exaggerated once over. “I’ll keep that in mind.” Eyes dancing, he sat and began to eat, only to stop and groan. “I know that I keep saying this, but seriously, this is delicious.” You smiled, and twirled your fork in the pasta. “I’ve yet to meet any woman who could become tired of well-deserved comments,” you said cheekily. By the time you were finished with your meal, Chanyeol had neatly downed two more helpings. You leaned back, and he picked up the bowl asking, “Would you like some more?” She shook your head. “No. I have just enough room for that orange I zested,” you said, reaching for it. Putting his warm hand over yours, he said, “Let me peel it for you.” You watched as he slowly began to peel the orange. His fingers were deft and sensitive, gliding over it, removing the skin in one continuous piece, without spilling any juice. Your face heated as you remembered something that your grandmother had told you, regarding men—- “Watch how he handles an orange. That will tell you a bit about how he’ll 'handle’ you.” You had both watched in silence as some nearby man haplessly ripped into an orange like a frustrated ape, juice, peel, and chunks of orange flying past his head. “That’s the opposite of what you want,” your Grandmere had said tartly. You were brought back to the present as Chanyeol handed you the orange, the golden globe peeled and halved in his hand, its segments plump with juice. “Thank you,” you said hoarsely, taking it from him. His grin was as wicked as if he had been reading your mind. “Anytime.” You slipped a plump segment of the fruit between your lips, reveling in the splash of juice that burst over your tongue. Chanyeol watched you closely as you closed your eyes to experience the full impact of the tangy, sweet fruit. A low sigh escaped your lips as you savoured its sweet taste. You bit into another segment, and a trickle of cool juice dribbled down your chin. Chanyeol was there in a flash, offering, “Let me take care of that for you.” He slid his thumb slowly up your chin, brushing it lightly over your sensitive lower lip. You involuntarily opened your mouth slightly in shock. Looking tempted, Chanyeol pressed his thumb slightly at the entrance of your mouth, then pulled back and slid it into his own. “Mmm,” he rumbled, “Sweet.” You stared at him, all appetite for the orange gone in the wake of a much stronger hunger. Smiling knowingly at you, Chanyeol offhandedly queried, “Are you going to finish that?” “No,” you whispered, and then watched as he made short, sensuous work of the rest of the orange. You swallowed heavily, thinking that it wasn’t fair for him to even make eating fruit look arousing. He grinned happily at you. “So…what do you want to do with me, now?” Chanyeol queried. You shook your head, to clear yourself of the fog. “I should…I should brine that chicken that I saw in the fridge, for dinner,” you said absently. “Kinky,” Chanyeol said comfortably. “May I watch?” At a loss for an appropriately biting comeback, you merely nodded. He pulled the chicken from the refrigerator, and began to rinse it as you pulled fresh herbs and sundries from the pantry. You mixed thick, creamy raw honey with plenty of salt, some water, and a few bay leaves. “Garlic?” Chanyeol queried. You nodded, and he sliced a few cloves for you, while you stuffed fresh sage leaves and lemon slices under the skin. “Add it to the brine, please,” you said, watching his deft movements as he obeyed you. You lowered the chicken into the pot, and gestured for him to carry it to the pantry. You both washed your hands together in silence. “Is something wrong?” he finally asked. “No, no…not at all,” you rejoined. “I’m just…thinking.” You smiled sweetly up at him. “How do you feel about roasted root vegetables with the roast chicken?” “I feel good about it. Very positive. I feel like my vote is making a difference here. A straight course has been implemented—-more flavour, fewer calories, lower taxes, higher pensions for the elderly, improved education, and kissing babies…” Chanyeol grinned foxily at you. You shook your head, amused. “You are the silliest man. That you are.” Leaning up on your tiptoes, you kissed his soft cheek. “If silliness garners me sweet cheek kisses, I wonder what puns would do,” he mused. “Puns, sir…puns will garner you swift shoulder punches,” you grinned. “Mmm…” Chanyeol drawled. “Some guys like that.” Throwing up your hands in mock defeat, you walked out to the living room, and began dressing in one of his scarves and coats. Chanyeol followed you, looking nonplussed. “Where are you going?” he asked plaintively. “We are going outside to enjoy the snow. I can’t stand being cooped up inside for so long—I’m coming down with cabin fever,” you stated. “I can help–” “Stop,” you said, deadpan. He grinned wolfishly. “I’m just saying…” he muttered under his breath, dressing in layers for the cold day. “I’ll need to borrow a pair of your boots,” you said imperiously. He glanced pointedly at your small feet. “I have to say…I don’t think that they’ll fit.” “That’s why I’ll also require a few pairs of your woolly socks to make up the difference.” “So bossy,” he chuckled. “That’s why you like me,” you called to him as he disappeared down the hall. He returned several moments later with the socks and boots. Kneeling at your feet, he gently took your left foot, rested it on his taut thigh, and began to slide the socks up your foot to your ankle. You balanced by resting your hands on his tight, broad shoulders, watching as he gently slid the boot onto your foot, and then repeated his ministrations on the other. Standing, he tucked the scarf snugly around your neck, buttoned up the oversized coat, and eased you into two more coats, for good measure. Taking a step back, he surveyed you from head to foot. “You look like Nanook of the North,” he grinned. You stuck out your tongue, waddling along behind him as he led you through the kitchen. Chanyeol opened the back door, and you tramped outside. You gasped as a sudden frigid blast of air took away your breath. The snow was up to your hips, but you plunged into it, determined to work off some of the maddening sexual tension that had been plaguing you since…well, since you met Chanyeol, really. You floundered gracelessly ahead, forging a new path, determined to work off as much energy as possible. You were huffing and puffing, but you couldn’t hear Chanyeol at all. You turned to see where he was, only to discover that he was directly behind you, almost on top of you. Scowling at him, you turned to stalk off…only to immediately trip in a furrow in the ground under the snow and fall flat on your face. “Ow”. “I’ll bet,” he agreed, reaching his arms around you, and lifting you effortlessly back onto your feet. Your face flushed with embarrassment as he patted you over to ensure that you were alright. “And then, that happened,” you said tightly. He grinned up at you from the crouched position where he was patting your calves. “You do seem to have a tendency to fall at my feet,” he drawled. Ripping your leg from his grasp, you planted your small foot neatly onto his shoulder, and kicked him flat on his back. Standing over him, with one foot planted along each side of his ribs, you said, “There. Now we’re closer to even.” You started to stalk off, which was really impossible in hip deep snow, when you felt his hand snake around your ankle and yank you backward. Sprawling gracelessly on top of him, you sputtered while he threw back his head and laughed. He wrapped his arms around your waist as you vainly endeavoured to climb off of him, succeeding only in writhing ineffectually against his solid body. Your frustration mounted as you saw the amusement in his face at your vain struggles and, in a fit of pique, you growled, grabbed a handful of snow, and shoved it into his mouth. In his surprise, he let go of you, and you climbed onto his hips, grabbing big hands of snow and shoving them down his shirt, in his hair, wherever you could reach. You felt a steel-taut, wiry arm wrap around your hips as he suddenly sat up and flipped you over onto your back, pinning you to the ground. He grabbed your wrists in one hand and held them over your head, against the cold, hard ground. His face was red, and his eyes glowed gold. “Now, now, now,” he rasped, low, “That wasn’t very nice, little girl.” You vainly bucked and struggled under him, but he was just too heavy. You lay back, panting, then reared up and growled, “Well, maybe I’m not a very nice little girl!” Chanyeol became impossibly still, as if he were holding himself in check with the barest control. His pupils dilated, and his mouth opened slightly, as his warm breath fanned your face. You glared up at him defiantly. His gaze fell to your mouth, and then flickered back to your eyes. You held your breath, suddenly realizing the position that you were in. His eyes caressed your face. Watching you, he slowly lowered his mouth to yours. You closed your eyes, every nerve screaming with anticipation. His breath ghosted over your mouth and, for a moment, there was no sound but of his raspy panting. You knew that if you lifted your mouth the merest fraction, it would meet his. You wondered briefly why he was so out of breath, when he growled low, “I’ll keep that in mind,” then groaned, rolling onto his back beside you. You opened your eyes and realized that you were trembling. “Chanyeol,” you started, “I’m–” “No need,” he interrupted briskly. “We’re both a bit on edge.” You nodded, looking up at the heavy grey clouds in the sky, swollen with even more snow. You reached out a hand toward him, only to discover that he was already reaching for yours. You both held hands for a long time, each lost in private thoughts, while watching the clouds roil by. After a time, you realized that the snow was seeping into your clothes, wetting you to the skin, and making you shiver. At the same time, Chanyeol flipped onto his feet, and pulled you to yours. “Come on,” he said, “let’s get you inside, and warmed up before you die of hypothermia.” You grinned tremulously, allowing him to take hold of your hips, as he guided you through the path in the snow, back into the cottage. You tramped back inside, with Chanyeol pulling ahead, leading your to your bathroom. He leaned over the tub, plugged the drain, and turned on the steaming hot water. Walking over to the cabinet, he pulled out a bottle of lemon-scented bubble bath and raised an eyebrow at you. You nodded, and he poured some into your bath, the bright citrus scent quickly enveloping you both in a cloud of steam. You stood dumbly watching him as he went to the closet and pulled out the various accoutrements that you would need to take your bath. Standing in front of you, he began to unbutton the layers of oversized coats. You stood motionless as he stripped the heavy, wet garments from your cold little body, and threw them into the laundry basket. He then unwound the scarf from around your neck, and tossed it into the basket with the coats. He sat on the edge of the tub, and drew first one, then the other foot into his lap, as he deftly untied and removed the heavy boots, and the multiple layers of woolen socks. He reached up under the sweater dress, and slowly drew your tights from your legs, launching them into the quickly filling laundry basket. Your feet were pale and cold, and after he pulled the tights off of your second foot, he unexpectedly leaned down and pressed a quick kiss to the top of your icy little foot. Standing up, he looked down at you, slowly bringing up his hands to undo the oversized buttons of your sweater dress. You looked up at him, feeling the cool air brush your exposed skin. When he was done, he stepped back, and looked over you. A healthy strip of skin glowed from between the edges of the sweater, leading down to the tiny white cotton panties covering your most intimate place. His eyes continued traveling down your long, shapely legs, and he softly sighed. He slowly reached a hand into the opening of your sweater, resting it on your hip. His hand was so large, that while the thumb rested on the hollow beside your hip bone, his fingers wrapped around your hip, curling around the beginning swell of your bottom. He slowly stroked your hip with his thumb. You were aware of your nipples tightening and rasping against the fabric of the sweater, at the heat of his hand on your cool flesh. You swallowed hard, and stared straight ahead at his chest. After a moment passed, Chanyeol chuffed a breath through his nose, and then planted a kiss on the top of your head. Lingering for the merest second to inhale the sweet scent of your hair, he then took a step back. With a self-deprecatory little bow, he gestured to the tub. “Your bath awaits, Lady,” he murmured. Straightening, he reached over to turn off the water and, giving your one last raking glance from head to toe, stepped around your and left the room, closing the door behind him. You just stood there for a moment, processing. You slowly reached up and slid the sweater from your shoulders, feeling it brush over your back as it slid down your arms to pool on the floor. You slowly slid your panties down your legs and then gathered them, and the sweater, to toss into the basket. Sliding into the steaming water, you bit back a whimper as the water heated your chilled limbs. Leaning back in the tub, you langourously closed your eyes, and let your thoughts wander to Chanyeol. Why had you attacked him? You sighed, realizing that you always lashed out when you were angry, or frustrated. He had been so understanding about your quick temper that you felt guilty for having lost it in the first place. You were going to have to do something nice for him to make up for your fiery loss of control. You snickered to yourself. Or had it been an icy loss of control? With those thoughts lazing about your head, you drifted off to sleep. A time later, you awoke. The bath had gone lukewarm, and the sun was long gone. You quickly washed, and stepped out of the tub into one of the fluffy, body-length towels. You dried yourself, and put on a yellow pair of cotton panties, a pair of oversized red plaid flannel pajama bottoms, and a black tank top. Hunting for Chanyeol, you found him in the library, reading a first edition of “Call of the Wild”. Standing shyly before him, tendrils of hair curling loosely around your face, you said, “I’m going to start dinner, now.” He nodded, seemingly engrossed in his book. You didn’t see him look up to watch you as you left, a thoughtful expression in his eyes. You went to the kitchen and started the cake first. Baking had always soothed you, making you forget your worries for a time. Eggs, fat, flour, milk, sugar, salt, vanilla, and leavening. Simple ingredients, but put together in a million different ways to make a million different things. Mess up the ratios, and you end up with flat cakes, concrete crusts, and bricks masquerading as biscuits. You decided to make a coconut-flavoured cake with coconut oil, and coconut milk in place of butter and cow’s milk, and to top it off with a coconut milk chocolate frosting. After the cake was safely in the oven, you blended coconut oil, coconut milk, coconut extract, and powdered sugar in a bowl. The toasty scent of coconut wafted around you as you stirred. In a double-boiler, you melted bittersweet chocolate, then added your coconut mixture into the dark, rich, thick, shining liquid. Moving it to the counter, you set it in the stand mixer, to whip until light and creamy. While that was happening, you went into the cool pantry, and pulled some purple fingerling potatoes, celery, parsnips, red onions, small turnips, and a rutabaga. You re-entered the kitchen just in time to catch Chanyeol wandering in from the dining room. Hands in his pockets, he silently watched you. “Need any help?” he asked finally. “Well,” you said, “you may wash the vegetables, if you like. Maybe…peel some garlic, and chop these onions?” He nodded, moving forward to take the vegetables from you, and carry them to the sink. “Do you want the veggies peeled, as well?” “No,” you said, while checking on the cake. “I always leave on the peels.” “Fair enough,” he said, handing the washed vegetables to you for chopping. You worked together in silence. Taking the finished vegetables, you tossed them in a bowl with olive oil, rosemary, fennel seeds, freshly cracked black pepper, and kosher salt. You pulled the chicken from the brine, and proceeded to stuff it with the vegetables. Setting it in the pan, you arranged the rest of the vegetables around it, in a colourful array of rich purples, bright oranges, cool greens, and creamy whites. After massaging the chicken with coconut oil, salt, and pepper, you placed it in the oven, while taking out the cake to cool. You cut off the mixer, and dipped a finger into the fluffy frosting. Turning to Chanyeol, you asked, “Would you like to do the honours?” Smiling beatifically, Chanyeol strode forward and bent down to wrap his lips around your finger. Lapping at it as he slowly drew it from his mouth, he looked up at you. “Mmm…tastes good,” he said softly. “And the frosting is nice, too.” Smiling, you dipped your finger back into the frosting, and then slowly, precisely licked it off of the tip of your finger. Chanyeol stared at you, swallowing hard as your pink tongue lapped and curled around the finger that he had just had in his mouth. Looking up at him, you cocked your head to the side and purred, “Sweet.” Taking a shuddering sigh, Chanyeol closed his eyes asked, “Now what?” Leaning forward, you rested one hand on his shoulder, pulling his ear down to the level of your mouth. “What now?” you whispered. He nodded, eyes closed. You leaned closer, feeling him sway toward you, “Biscuits,” you purred. He was still for a moment. Then in a voice filled with puzzlement, he asked, “Biscuits?” Leaning back against the counter, you nodded. “Yes. Biscuits. For dinner. Isn’t that what you were asking?” Chanyeol opened his eyes and looked directly at you. “Biscuits,” he repeated, deadpan. Shaking his head, he straightened. “Okay, biscuits. How do we make that happen?” You ticked off a list on your fingers. “We’ll need flour, cold butter, baking powder and soda, salt, milk, and buttermilk powder. We mix the dry ingredients, and then grate in the butter, and blend. Then we add the milk, mix it until it’s dough, turn it out on a floured surface, and knead briefly. Cut into rounds, bake, and enjoy.” Chanyeol turned to search the kitchen and pantry, gathering the ingredients for you. After he had it all assembled, you went to work. As you were rolling out the dough, he poked it a few times. “What are you, six?” you asked. “Hey, I’m a guy, I like poking soft things,” he retorted, grinning. You finished putting the biscuits onto the cookie sheet. “Well, poke these into the fridge, will you? We’ll leave them in there until the chicken is almost done.” You silently watched him as he did what you asked. “Chanyeol,” you said suddenly, “What do you do when you’re not rescuing damsels in distress.” He paused, then said smoothly, “As I said, I have many talents. I work for people who need to get things done,” He turned to face you. “A maverick-for-hire, as it were.” “How interesting,” you said politely. “Tell me,” here you paused delicately, “just what are some of the things that you’ve been hired to do?” “A tid of this, and a bit of that,” he replied evasively. At your raised eyebrow, he gave a long-suffering sigh. “I…find people. I protect people. I’ve even been known to fix people, here and there.” You looked him over, saying, “You…hunt people.” Chanyeol bit out his answer. “Yes.” Your voice was soft now as you asked, “And…do you hurt people?” Looking directly at you, Chanyeol matched your tone, saying, “Only the deserving.” You surveyed him quietly. “I believe it.” He rubbed his hands on his thighs and asked, “How…did we come to this subject?” “Well, we’ve been stuck together in this cabin for two days, now. I wanted to know just who is my gracious host.” You looked away. Changing your tone, you said, “I noticed that you had some Billie Holiday records. Why don’t you put them on, and we can chat about nicer things like the weather, cinema, and nuclear holocausts?” Chanyeol hastily agreed, and you sat on the sofa, lightly chatting until it was time to bake the biscuits. He did the honours, while you sat on the edge of the table, enjoying watching him bend over to put the biscuits in the oven. You whistled saucily, “Nice buns,” you said. He heaved a mock-long-suffering sigh. “I’m more than just a piece of meat, you know.” “Oh, I know, Wolfie,” you said. “You’re a whole slab of beef!” He straightened suddenly, turning around to look incredulously at you. You held it in as long as you could but almost immediately broke, bursting into peals of laughter at the same time that he doubled over, guffawing, and clutching the counter for support. “That was…awful!” he sputtered. “I know!” you giggled. “I couldn’t help myself, though. You just walked into that one!” “I suppose I did,” he sighed. “Don’t hate me because I’m luscious.” She rolled your eyes. “Alright, alright, let’s stop before one of us devolves into vulgarities regarding hot beef injections.” He looked disappointed. “Hey, you took my joke!” “And thank goodness for that!” You bantered back and forth, until the warm, brown smell of the buttermilk biscuits mingling with the rich, herbaceous aroma of the roasting chicken made you realize that dinner was done. He served you again, his capable hands deftly carving tender, crisping slices of roast chicken, scooping up a medley of colourful vegetables that had caramelized in the melting chicken juices, and sliding a steaming, golden biscuit onto your plate. “Oh, and lest we forget!” He sauntered over to the refrigerator, and pulled out a jar of the fresh raspberry jam. Plopping down in his chair, he quickly served himself, and you began to eat. At the first bite of chicken, Chanyeol growled low in his chest. “I’m telling you, woman. You keep feeding me like this, and you’ll have me following you around like a callow pup for the rest of your life.” “I can think of worse things,” you said lightly, your eyes twinkling. You ate in companionable silence, the only audible sounds the clinking of silver against plate, and the occasional groan from Chanyeol as he discovered a particularly tasty tidbit. “You’re very vocal,” you observed. He grinned roguishly. Leaning forward confidentially, he said, “You should hear me howl.”

Your eyes widened at the implication. “Well,” you said, standing up quickly, “better go frost that cake!” Chanyeol watched you turn to the counter, amused at your shocked expression. While your back was turned, he ripped off a chicken leg and sank his teeth into the crispy skin with relish. You sliced the now-cooled cake into three layers, and assiduously covered them with plenty of the decadent brown frosting. Taking it to the table, you apologetically said, “It’s not much to look at, I’m sure, but it should taste alright.” Eyes shining with a gourmand’s delight, Chanyeol waited while you cut him a hefty slice and put it on his plate. Looking woefully up at you, he asked, “Milk?” Shaking your head, you turned to the fridge to take out a frosty jug of skimmed milk. Pouring it into a tall glass for him, you sat back in his chair and watched as he attacked his cake like a little boy at Christmas. You smiled indulgently at him, somehow liking him more like this—-innocent and cheerful, as opposed to his usual dangerously seductive mien. He looked up at you, his eyes shining with greedy happiness, a dollop of chocolate beside his kissably coral mouth. You leaned forward and wiped off the chocolate with your thumb, and slipped it into your mouth. For once, Chanyeol was intent on something other than seduction as he asked you, “Aren’t you going to have some cake?” “Yes,” you said. “But first, I wanted to watch you eat. You can be quite adorable, do you know that?” He laughed. “I’ve been called many things, but adorable hasn’t been amoung them since I was 12. Meanwhile, I really enjoy this flavour combination. More people should do this—you should make more people do this!” You grinned at him, “I’ll be sure to hop right on that,” you said as you cut a piece for yourself. Wrapping your lips around a generous bite of cake, you closed your eyes to concentrate fully on the rich flavour. Grinning, you conceded. "I guess it is pretty good.” He reached out to brush an errant tendril of hair behind your ear. “Yes,” he agreed amiably, looking affectionately at you.

You reached for his glass to take a sip of milk. Chanyeol chuckled. “Drinking from my glass? Cheeky baggage.” “I trust you,” you said saucily, echoing his earlier affirmation. “Good to know,” he returned, quirking an eyebrow. Leaning back, he helped himself to another slice of cake. After the dinner dishes had been done, Chanyeol inclined his head to you. “I hate to be a poor host, but I have some work that I need to do. I fear that I must bid you an early goodnight.” “Oh,” you responded, quick-witted as ever. You had assumed that he would spend the rest of the evening with you, and you had hoped that he would continue the tradition of tucking you into bed. “Well, if you must, you must. I can amuse myself with something from the library.” “I’m relieved to hear it,” he said. His face looked as though he wanted to say more, but he shook his head. You both made your way to their separate destinations—-he to his bedroom, and you to the library, with the hopes of finding something with which to occupy your time. You found a nice novel, and took it to bed with you.

***

Chanyeol was in his room, fiddling with his computer. A cheerful “pop” told him that the wireless was restored. He quickly established a connection with a large, dark, silent house in America. Duncan MacTavish silver head filled the screen. “How is it coming?” he asked gruffly. “Aside from a bit of cabin fever, no problems to report,” Chanyeol responded. “Very good.” Here, Duncan paused. “Her parents have flown to France. They’re looking for you, of course. You may want to hurry. I’m not sure how much time you have.” Chanyeol raised an eyebrow. Sighing, he said, “I’m doing my best. You have a very… stubborn granddaughter.” “Gets it from me,” Duncan asserted with rumbling pride. “Yes, well…” Chanyeol cleared his throat. “You may want to have your weather-weavers step up their efforts with the snow to ensure that she stays here. Today, she insisted on going outside. I’ve no doubt that, unless the effort seemed completely futile, if she took the notion, she would try to dig her way back to the city.” Duncan grunted. “She’s a MacTavish, all right. Do you need anything?” “Not at the moment, no.” “Is she…is she alright?” Duncan asked. Rather tentatively, for him. “She’s fine,” Chanyeol said shortly. “Get it done, then.” Duncan signed off abruptly. Chanyeol sighed and leaned back on his bed, his eyes pensive. Much later that night, he made his way to your room. your door was ajar, and he could see no light emanating from your room. Chanyeol slowly pushed open the door, and padded over to the bed. Moonlight shone through a break in the clouds, illuminating your peaceful features. You were on your back, hair unbound, the coverlet pulled up to your shoulders. He grasped the covers at your feet, and slowly pulled. Inch by inch, your small, curving body was gradually revealed to his hungry gaze. Your loose hair draped artfully over your breasts, hiding them from his view. As you breathed, the silky mass slid slightly, threatening to expose you to his eyes. You were dressed only in a chaste pair of lemon yellow cotton panties, the cloth barely covering your hidden place, and your legs were slightly bent, ankles crossed demurely. Chanyeol swallowed hard. He spent a long moment, just staring at you. Then, gritting his teeth, he delicately pulled the coverlet back over your body. He watched you sleep for a few more moments, then bent down to place a soft kiss on your brow. Backing away silently, he left the room, and closed the door. Your eyes opened, and you spent a long time staring into the dark.

A/N:  If you would like the latest updates, then please follow @vampwrrr, as I post everything there, first, and everything is linked for ease of reading.

[himboholhorse-moving]

peach, mango, passion fruit, banana, pomegranate, tangelo, kiwi, cranberry, apricot !!!

Okay this went SUPER long because I don’t know how to stop talking SORRY shfjsfds

Peach: Do you have any piercings or tattoos?

I only have my ears pierced, but I plan on getting a tattoo soon (hopefully)!! I almost impulse got the Joestar birthmark tattooed on my shoulder but maybe it’s for the best I didn’t go through with it skhfkdjf

Mango: What is your trademark?

Whenever someone calls for me I go “Yo!” but other than that I’m “group mom” and always have my first-aid kit (and knife) on me. I also inadvertently sneak up on people because I’m a light walker and walk on the balls of my feet, which a couple years of dance and tae kwon do will do to you.

Passion fruit: How would you describe your style?

It’s a mix between “I actually tried to look good today” and “I literally just grabbed the first shirt I saw and wore it.” Sometimes it’s masculine and sometimes it’s feminine but really it’s a toss up.

Banana: Favorite horror movies?

OOOOO now THIS is a question for me. “Get Out” and “Us” are up there. I don’t know if “The Orphanage” is horror or thriller but I love that movie a lot. The “Nightmare on Elm Street” series isn’t actually half bad, it just gets insane a lot. At least he didn’t go to hell or space like Jason did hsdfksd. 

“Eyes Without a Face” is great, and “Hereditary” and “Jacob’s Ladder” are great psychological thrillers, which I adore. “The Exorcist” is a given, as is “The Shining.” If it’s based on Stephen King, I’ll probably like it, and “Silver Bullet” is underrated. The original “Funny Games” and the original “Ju-on: The Grudge” and “Ringu” are fantastic.

“The Thing” and “Goodnight Mommy” are also some favorites. “Don’t Look Now” is a classic, and “You’re Next” and “It Comes At Night” are underrated and I’ll fight on their behalf. “Cube” is great, too. I also really enjoyed the “It” remake and “A Quiet Place” and the 2018 “Halloween” was actually pretty good.

“Sinister” is one of the few horror movies that like, genuinely freaked me out, which is hard to do. Especially that one scene that was particularly frightening which if you’ve seen it, you know. “The Texas Chainsaw Massacre” and the original “My Bloody Valentine” are real good. “The Descent” and “Alien”/”Aliens” and “Hellraiser” and the original version of “The Wicker Man” are also top.

Sorry this was so long I just really adore horror/thriller movies dskjfhksd.

Pomegranate: When do you feel the most confident?

If you compliment my outfit or praise any of my abilities, whether it be cooking or momming or just having loads of general knowledge, I will lay down my life for you.

Tangelo: If you could any mythical creature, what would it be?

Real talk a banshee would be sick. My 1st grade teacher had us watch something in class about them for some reason but I thought they were pretty note and researched them. An elf would be cool, too.

Kiwi: What’s something that fascinates you?

There are many things but the Marianas Trench is always going to terrify and mystify me. Space, too, which also terrifies me. I’m real into government and alien conspiracies because as a child of someone who’s seen Some Shit (TM) in the military, they know some shit! Without a doubt! The Greenbrier was a hotel that had a hidden bunker underneath it for like, 30 or 40 years and no one knew about until 1992 when a Washington Post reporter wrote an article on it and it was subsequently decommissioned.

Louis Le Prince always will because some grad student in NYC found a journal confirmed to be Thomas Edison’s wherein he wrote that Le Prince’s murder had been carried out. Le Prince went missing on a train, as did his luggage, and the oldest surviving films are attributed to him. And a few years later, well would you look at that! Edison has a film camera! Oh no, a lawsuit filed by Mutoscope saying he wasn’t the original inventor of films! Le Prince’s son said he “knew too much” and whoops! He’s found mysteriously dead. BOI.

There’s a history of disappearances in the national parks and there’s those Missing 411 things that are out that I heard about on the “Mysterious Universe” podcast and that shit freaks me out. Experienced hikers go missing, the area is searched THOROUGHLY, and months later they find their body where they already searched like HELLO?

Cranberry: Favorite time of the day; morning, afternoon, dusk, or night?

I’m a dusk and nighttime kind of person. I love taking pictures of the sunset and looking at stars. They’re super pretty. :^)

Apricot: What do you do when you’re sad?

Most of the time I text my sister and vent, and then try and find something on YouTube that’ll occupy my time and/or make me laugh. Sometimes I watch an episode of “M*A*S*H” that won’t make me cry but it depends on how I’m feeling at that time.

Sorry again that this turned out so long sdjfhdjs and thank you for asking!!

[moralesbynature-blog]

Untitled

Gwen sat in the cockpit of the doomed 1940’s fighter plane, she had only one thought. Him. Miles. She struggled with the controls as her last engine blew, and her craft started to spin, downward. ‘Damn it! Come on old girl you can do this.’ Frantic she looked around for a picture she and Miles took at the fair. There it was stuck in the crevice, of her control board. ��Here goes nothing.’ She reached between her legs and pulled hard on the emergency escape latch. The top of the cockpit flew off, Gwen slammed on a flashing red button, her seat launched upward only to be snagged on the plane. ‘As if this wasn’t fun enough.’ She reached for the knife she always kept on her left ankle. She cut the tether holding her to the plane, pulled her parachute and watched as Humming Bird fell to the earth. A tear fell from her eye as the last connection to her past hit the ground with an explosion. She floated down for what seemed like an hour. She cut herself loose, and picked up her radio.

    “Hello, is anyone there, over.” Nothing but static. “Can anyone read me, over?” “I have crashed on an island some few hundred miles north of the Mano base, is anyone there? Over.” Just more static. She exhaled heavily and looked up a into the sky. She shielded her eyes from the sun, hoping to see a friendly flyer. Nothing. “Well it'll be dark soon, I better find some shelter. She walked the perimeter of the beach, hoping to find some debris she could use. “I might be able to find something in the jungle. Hopefully not rabies or my death, but hopefully something much more useful. Ooo, something like a margarita, strawberry mmm, no mango oh yes, what I wouldn’t do for a mango margarita right now.” She ventured into the jungle. “With my luck, I’ll run into a spider the size of a watermelon.” She shivered. “Stop Gwen, you’re freaking yourself out, way more than this creepy jungle.”

    After a few hours of searching and hacking at dead trees, she finally had enough raw material to build a suitable place to sleep. Using her parachute as a roof she structured a few branches into support beams, and fastened wet twigs into rope and tied it all together. She stepped back to admire her hard work. “Well it’s not the Hilton, but it’ll do.” Her stomach started to growl, good thing I was able to find some fruit in there. She sat outside her tent, and looked off into the ocean, as the sun was near then end of it’s set.

    “If I probably wasn’t going to die in my sleep, this would truly be the most beautiful sight, I ever seen.” She took a bite of her apple. Some bushes behind her started rustling. She shouted, “Who’s there!” As bits of apple flew out her mouth. She pulled out her pocket knife and readied her stance. “Who or whatever you are, I’m not going down without a fight!” The rustling stopped. Gwen laughed. “Ha, you better run.” Gwen dropped down to her knees. “What am I going to do? I need to find help. And soon.” She took another bite. A loud screech filled the air. Gwen covered her ears. “Augh. What the…?” Three monkey came flying out of the bushes. “Are you what was freaking me out?” The monkeys walked up to her. “Come here little guy, I won’t hurt you.” A voice rang out from her radio, she reached for it. “Hello? Anyone there, over?” This startled the monkey, who began to freak out.. “Whoa, whoa calm down guys, calm down. They started screaming and screeching, one of the monkeys grabbed her radio and they all ran back into the jungle. “Hey I need that”. Gwen chased after them.

    Deeper and deeper into the jungle she ran, she lost sight of the monkeys a few miles ago. She stopped to catch her breath. That’s when she heard it, faint and into the distance, but it was undeniable, the static from her radio. She ran towards, around trees, over bushes, through spider webs. There it was dangling from a vine on a tree, she jumped and just barely missed it. She decided to climbing the tree, slowly up Gwen went, inch by inch, almost there, just a fingertip away. She reached as far as she could, when something sharp pierced her neck. The shock made her lose balance and she fell from the tree, and landed hard on the radio. She rubbed the side of her neck, as she looked at the radio, which is now in several pieces. She throws the now useless junk at the tree she fell from and tries to stand. Her knees felt weak, and her head started to spin. She uses the tree for balance and tried taking a few steps. She falls flat on her face. Drifting in and out of consciousness, she felt herself being carried away, she struggled to speak but nothing came out. She could hear the banging of drums getting louder and louder, as she passed out.

    She awoke with water splashed in her face. “Huh?” Wh-what’s going on?” “I can’t move.” There was a huge fire in front of her, she looked at her arms and legs they were tied down to a post.

    “It is a wake!” A voice shouted.

    “It? Hey whoever you are I am a Gwen… I mean a she!” Gwen protested.

    There was a bunch of chatter. ‘Silence’, shouted a huge booming voice, from the crowd. “How does it know our tongue?” “I have never seen anything like it before. And what of it’s dressings? Very unusual.”

    “Hey, buddy, I told you I am not an it!” Gwen spat. “And let me go! Who are you people? What do you want from me?” She wiggled and squirmed to get free, but the ropes were too tight.

    “What do we do?” A woman said.

    “The chief looked at Gwen and smiled, “We fest!”

    “What?”

    The crowd of people jumped and dance, they made their way to her.

    “No, you wouldn’t want to eat me, I’m just empty calories. Trust me, you wouldn’t like me.”

    They cut her down, she fell to her hands and knees. She tried to stand but her legs were still too weak. She pulled out her knife and waved it at her captors. Their response, bladed spears at her neck, she dropped the knife. They picked her up and dragged her to a platform that reeked of blood. She started to panic, her heart pounding. They tied her down, and locked her head in place. This was it, it was all over for Gwen. She closed eyes and Miles popped into her head. She smiled and exhaled slowly.

***

    “Would you hurry up! We’re going to be late!”

    Gwen came stomping out the door. “Late for what Miles? You still haven’t told me where we are going.”

    “It’s a surprise, you’ll just have to wait and see. Now come down the stairs, so we can go.” Gwen looked at him and smiled, wickedly. “Oh no. I know that look. Don’t you dare.” Gwen leapt from the porch.

    “Catch me!” She shouted. She backed up, and ran to jump. She stopped short when she noticed Miles wasn’t paying attention. “I’m going to do it. I’m going to jump.” She backed up again, eyeing Miles. Ran and jumped, never taking her eyes off of Miles, who hasn’t turned around yet. She closed her eyes as she felt herself falling towards the ground. As she prepared herself for the cold unwelcoming pavement, she opened her eyes to Miles smiling down at her. “You caught me.”

    “I will always catch you.”

    She kissed him. “I never doubted you.”

    “Now, shall we?” Gwen got down.

    “Yes, we shall.” Miles wrapped his arm around her shoulders, and they were off.

    “You are either very brave or very stupid. Never have I seen someone smile as they were about to be killed.” She looked up and saw a man smiling at her. “I can’t wait to see which.” He untied her and handed her a sword. “Well shall we.”

    He leaped off the platform into the crowd of savages, and started to fight them off. She told up and looked down at the two that tied her down, arrows stuck out of both their necks. She looked at the sword the stranger had given her, and back at the stranger. She was so confused as to what was going on, she did not notice two savages sneaking up behind her. She turned with only seconds to spare, took a step back and fell off the platform.

    “It appears stupid.” shouted the stranger.

Gwen stood up and regained her wits. The savages jumped down to her, and jabbed with their spears. The sound of metal clashing together filled the air, as the two fought off the savages. Back to back, they were surrounded.

“Not so bad, for a stupid person. I’m Aaron, and you are.”

“I’m not stupid for starters. What is going here, who or what are these people?”

“All that later, but for now run!” Aaron reached into a pocket and pulled out a small black ball and threw it into the fire. As he grabbed Gwen by the hand and they ran into the jungle, there was a loud bang, and huge cloud of smoke. Zipping past trees, hurdling over bushes. Aaron holding tight onto Gwen’s wrist. She reached into her pocket to pull out her picture of Miles. It wasn’t there. She stopped, pulling Aaron down to the ground.

“Hey what’s the big idea?” He shouted. “We need to keep running, we have along way to go, before we are safe.”

“My picture. I have to find it.” Gwen is on her hands and knees, searching for that day at the fair.

“What does this ‘picture’, look like?”

“What do you mean? It looks like a picture,” she exclaimed. Now frantic, she crawls all over the jungle looking for the picture she lost.

“We are going to die, because you are wasting time, looking for something, I have never heard of. This will not be the end of me, I’m leaving.” Aaron got up and started to walk away. With one hand in the air he waved goodbye. “Good luck, not dying.”

“So you’re just going to leave me here?”

“Yup!” “I hope that picture of yours, will keep you safe from the Anyo Tribe.” He kept walking.

“Fine, I can take care of myself. I don’t need you! I don’t even know you!”

“Yup!”

“Who does he think he is anyway? I don’t need him, I can take care of myself. Now where is it?” Still on her hands and knees, she searched. “It has to be around her somewhere.” Closer and closer she inched to the Anyo Tribe’s sacred grounds. It didn’t take long for the Anyo to gather themselves. She could hear footsteps, rapidly approaching. Her heart rate increased. What is she to do? Continue to look for a picture? Or save herself. Well reader what would you do? She stood up, and started running, in the direction, Aaron walked off in. She ran whispering his name, as to not draw attention to herself. ‘Great, now where did he go?’ ‘I am coming back to you Miles, I will not die here! That I promise you!’

[cathrineteague]

Condo by the Lake of Fire

A personal essay - originally written in 2012

God help me, but I think I want to talk about religion. Christianity, specifically, but not Christianity as it’s written in the Holy Bible itself. The Bible is hardly the root of the problem.

There is a place down South called the Bible Belt, where Church is the wheel on which everything turns. You know as soon as you’ve crossed into this strange, alternate world because suddenly one church per town won’t suffice, and Sunday morning just isn’t enough time for preaching.

You’ll see billboards in the big cities (Don’t make me come down there. – God). And on those otherwise beautiful stretches of highway through miles of green farmland, you’ll come upon the occasional massive, ominous white cross, looming over the highway as if to remind all who pass through whose country they’re traversing.

Don’t stop. Don’t get out of the car, not even to take a picture. Everyone you meet will be vying for a chance at your soul. Evangelical Christians—terrifying creatures bred on generations of threats of hellfire and brimstone—don’t know how to meet a living thing without inquiring about its status with regards to God.

“Hi! Nice to meetcha. Where ya come from? Where ya headed? Have you accepted Jesus Christ as your personal Lord and Savior and if not, would you like to do so this very day? For we are living in the End Times! None of us is promised tomorrow, brothers and sisters, and God is not willing that any one of His children should be lost, say amen.”

More frightening for an outside observer than the prospect of crossing this land—to get to some more desirable locale where they don’t try to walk you into such a long-term commitment right away—is the idea of what it must be like to grow up in it.

Don’t weep for the little children, though, you heathen Yankees! They do just fine. They learn all the lessons they need to know at school, at Church and at home. And if one of these places tends to bleed into the others, well…hallelujah, that’s consistency! Sometimes it’s hard and painful of course, but what good, worthy things are there in life that don’t require some work? We have to purge our children of their sins before the Devil gets a foothold!

It’s violence, really. Emotional terrorism, praise the Lord and give God the glory. See the little girl sitting in the third pew, in an itchy pink dress she had to be wrestled into earlier that morning? Teach her Your ways, O Lord.

Teach her that when she gets older holding hands with the little blonde girl next to her won’t be okay anymore, to say nothing of all the other things she’s going to want to do. Teach her that her body and her mind are great betrayers, teach her to shut them down and ignore what they tell her. She must suffer as Christ suffered.

When Jesus was a little kid, did he want to hold hands with the other boys? Teach her not to ask such sacrilegious questions.

Teach her to be ashamed of having questions at all. A good Christian with a healthy relationship with God doesn’t have doubts or questions, and never-you-mind that Jeremiah prophet. He was a prophet, after all, and you’re just a girl. The Bible says women ought not to speak in Church.

Send your children to summer “youth camps” and winter “retreats.” Let them spend all day at the water park in some perpetually sunny Southern city, shrieking with laughter and not a care in the world. Send them, sunburned and still smelling like chlorine and the sunscreen they put on in the morning, to the dimly-lit interior of a hotel conference room. Show them how to raise their hands and sing at the top of their lungs to God, all the more joyful abandon, so the rocks don’t cry out.

Sit them down and bring out a fat, happy guest preacher who says he is their friend. He dresses like they do. He talks the way they do. He knows who their favorite musicians are, knows how to play the saxophone. They are all in agreement: he’s a pretty cool guy, and in the space of half an hour they trust him like they’ve known him all their lives.

Let him talk to them for another sixty minutes. By the end of it they’ll all be on their knees in the altar, sobbing. They’ll cling to each other as they gasp out those prayers, begging God to forgive them for those seconds of the day when they forget themselves and are human. For that single unkind thought, for that dirty joke at lunch three weeks ago, for these offenses and a million more. They will beg forgiveness for everything they’ve done in their lives between Monday mornings and Saturday nights.

And no matter how hard they try, there will always be new seconds of imperfection to cry over come next Wednesday, when their young, handsome youth pastor gets up to remind them of the commitment that he’s sure “some of y’all have already forgotten.”

The battle begins on the first day of school, after all. When you’re walking through the overcrowded hallways, trying to get to your locker across the building in the five-minute break, trying to absorb useless details about ancient Mesopotamia that you’re sure you covered last year, and the year before, trying to understand what’s so great about A House on Mango Street anyway…don’t forget the commitment you made at winter retreat, and renewed on Wednesday night, and Sunday morning, and again on Sunday night.

They all forget, of course. Maybe not habitually, maybe only for a second, but it’s enough. Every single second out of the day they don’t spend in awe of Almighty God is fodder for their guilt-ridden prayers at the Sunday evening service.

The bass-voiced, solemn-faced preachers all says that Christianity is more than fire insurance, but I’ll be damned if they don’t use the eternal torment of Hell--and a shot at skipping it--as a selling point at every turn.

“Do you have a relationship with God? Are you ready? If you died this very minute, where would you go?”

“You with the heavy eyeliner, the black bondage pants and the heavy metal t-shirt, repent of your sins and come back next week in jeans and this hoodie with the youth group’s logo on it, only $25.”

“You in the low-cut blouse, stop tempting your Brothers in Christ to sinful thoughts. Cover yourself from neck to ankles and be forgiven for the sin of being a pretty girl.”

Your body is a temple; your body is a temptation. Your body is the place all sins originate, so divorce yourself from it as much as possible, praise Jesus.

It starts almost at birth and it never really ends. Even if you escape, drag yourself across the invisible border into a place where towns with populations under a thousand only have one church and no one defaces the highway with terrifying symbols of pre-medieval execution methods…even if you manage to run from the voices all around you telling you that you’re Lost, you’re a Sinner, you’re Backslidden, you’re Going To Hell...you’re not really safe. You can’t escape the voices in your head that tell you the exact same things.

So what if logic says it’s crazy? So what if every rational thought you have screams against the majority of what you’ve been taught since before you could talk? Those teachings took root long before some high school English teacher or college professor took pity and taught you to think, before some song on the radio ignited the tiny fire of rebellion that grew and eventually prompted you to run in the first place.

Your mama says rebellion is like witchcraft in the eyes of God. You shall not suffer a witch to live; it says so in the Bible.

Spend every day for the rest of your life telling yourself that God is love, that God forgives, that God shows mercy to His children. Read the Bible if you want to, highlight all those passages that prove your point. Live your life by day as if you believe it, but say your prayers at night the way you always have: searching frantically in your mind for that one damning little sin, some slip-up that you forgot to beg forgiveness for that’s going to plunge you into Hell if you die in your sleep.

Call home; listen to the voices of your past in a chorus of agreement.

“I’m praying for you, child,” says the elderly aunt before you hang up, every time. You feel her prayers; they prickle the back of your neck every time you pass a church, make you walk a little faster and keep your eyes to the ground.

And what if they’re right? That’s the question you can’t get away from, the one that logic can’t dispel because it’s not a logical adult asking it, but that scared, brow-beaten little girl in the itchy dress.

What if they’re right about everything?

You had a friend once, an anomaly living fun and fancy free among his religious brethren, a jolly-faced man you met at the community theatre who served on the deacon’s board at his church and went home every night to Jerry, his sweet-smiling house husband of more than a dozen years. They threw Christmas parties and pool parties, and welcomed you at the door with warmth and joy and homemade lemonade.

He used to joke that in Hell he’d be a VIP.

“When we all get there, you guys can just join me in my luxury condo, right beside the lake of fire.”

A small, sacrilegious voice inside you hopes that if they’re right, then he is, too.

[okaywowcool]

most popular fast fashion retailers (forever21, charlotte russe, etc) boasting a plus sized line only offer up to a US size 22/24. most clothing shops that offer above that carry only unfashionable tunics and mumus, which just plain...sucks. but there are still a handful of shops out there fighting the good fight, who believe fashion is for everyone!!!! 

i’ve collected as many of those shops that i could think of, including indie/handmade shops as well as larger retail stores that sell plus sized clothing here as a resource, featuring a clear breakdown of their general price range as well as the size range they carry! all of these stores listed at least go up to a size 30, but some have custom sizing where you can send in your exact measurements, and others have standard sizes up to US 44!

read on to see the full list, including trendy modern options as well as places to get good basics/staples. 

GOOD STAPLES/BASICS

Catherines

the styles at Catherine’s are pretty similar to something like Catos, so they tend to skew a bit older, but there are still many basics that can be found there to where i would suggest adding it into your rotation. they have lots of denim typically for those looking for jeans, as well as an athletic line! 

size range: 14 - 36

price range: $8 - $150 -- most staple pieces are around $30 - $70

Ulla Popken

some of ulla popken’s selection is not something i would normally promote, as the majority of it leans fairly old and has the tendancy to be very sack-shaped and tunic-y, something that i’m very against being constantly pushed on plus sized women. however, the denim section alone is so nice that it merits being on this list! they have really cute jeans, in sizes 12 - 38, and you can find a lot of cuts of pants that would normally be very difficult to find in larger sizes!

size range: 12 - 38

price range: $5 - $300+ (for formalwear)

Kiyonna

kiyonna is fairly expensive, but has a lot of really good formalwear options as well as pieces that would be perfect for office wear. the overall style of their clothing is elegant and classic. i’m a fan of their skirts and dresses, but the high amount of “flattering” tunic tops always sorts of bugs me with stores like this, especially at this high of a price point. kiyonna also has a few denim options in terms of jeans, but all of them are really nice looking and modern, so it’s a very good option for that as well, if you’re willing to shell out around $100 for a pair of jeans. 

size range: 12 - 44

price range: $36 - $258

Full Beauty

full beauty is more of a hub/retail type site that carries a lot of different brands, from melissa mcarthy to other places on this list, like kiyonna and ulla popken. some of the styles on this website are cute, but others have the similar “flattering” tunic issue that are not my favorite. all the above garments posted are from melissa mcarthy’s line. fair warning though--there are many garments on this website that only go up to XL. i got super excited seeing a line by mango called Violeta that i’d never seen before, assuming that on a site called “full beauty” they’d at least go up to 3XL, but nope! so i suggest filtering by sizes while searching around--it’s definitely a place you can get some good deals, if you’re willing to hunt. 

size range: 10 - 32

price range: $5.99 - $399

Avenue

avenue is a bit more modern looking than some of these other choices, but still very much focused on the whole traditionally “flattering” plus sized silhouette that focuses too much (in my opinion) on fit and flare and tunic shapes. avenue does have some really cute detailing on pieces like this though, like the two tops above--one featuring a strappy detail that is definitely trend-right currently, and the shoulder cut outs as well as the embroidery in the second top. it’s also a good source for jeans and denim, and has a lot of cute colors and prints that you might not see somewhere a bit more traditional like Catherine’s. 

size range: 14 - 32

price range: $5 - $70

TRENDIER OPTIONS

eShakti 

eShakti is a really unique site that offers customized fit clothing for extremely affordable prices–you give them your measurements and they will fit the garments specifically for you. there’s an ENORMOUS range of items, ranging from traditional workwear to more unique vintage-inspired dresses, as well as quite a few pieces that reflect today’s trends.

size range: XS - 6XL in standard sizes, PLUS custom sizing into infinity

price range: $30 - $100+ (also offers bridal options for around $500+)

society+

society+ is a huge favorite for plus sized bloggers pretty much everywhere, and i think it is for a really good reason. i love that they use plus sized women of all sizes and shapes on their site--the pictures feel real, and you can really tell fit and believe that fit when you’re scrolling through all their clothes. all of their skirts are gorgeous, and i really love the other pieces they’re adding to their in house line. definitely a place to keep an eye on! 

size range: 14 - 32

price range: $12.99 - $100+

Ashley Stewart 

Ashley Stewart is a plus size friendly brand who has recently opened up into offering extended sizes 28-36, which include a lot of really adorable pieces you’d have a hard time finding in plus sizes until fairly recently. they also have a lot more standard plus size faire--the sort of flowy tunic styles that i’m not a huuuge fan of, but you can find a lot of really cute unique things there too if you keep an eye out! 

size range: 12 - 36

price range: ~$20 - $100

SWAK Designs

SWAK designs is another blogger favorite, and great for basics that have a trendy twist to them. lots of solid colored items in modern cuts, with a huge size range and good quality for a great price. 

size range: 1X - 6X

price range: ~$20 - $100

Chubby Cartwheels

chubby cartwheels is one of MY personal favorites--somewhere i’ve been wanting to buy from as soon as i’m able to save up for like, serious years. they’re super affordable, but i’m always in love with their less practical pieces--short mini dresses, fully lace queenly gowns--so much cool shit. every time they release a new collection all the alt plus size bloggers and chubby goths i follow on social media go nuts, because it’s always such cool, unique stuff. 

size range: 14 - 32 

price range: $18 - $80

Joolz Fashion 

this mid-size etsy shop has made to order garments in all sorts of fun prints, and offers custom sizing on a LOT of it’s items. i still am a sucker for space print and similar things--they were so ubiquitous just a few years ago but finding them in plus sizes was HARD at the time, so it’s so nice to see a shop making those types of items now! definitely one to watch! 

size range: 6 - 32

price range: $50 - $195

Redress NYC

redress has A LOT of really awesome pieces, a lot of which that are frequently resold by places like modcloth because of their unique, trend-right designs. they have items that are extremely reasonably priced and really stand out from the majority of plus sized faire. i’m particularly in love with their bright collaboration with retrolicious. they also carry some vintage pieces, items from smaller indie brands like chubby cartwheels and similar, and butch styles!

size range: 1X - 5X

price range: $14 - $198

Trash Queen

my own shop, which is totally run by me, also carries extended sizes. all items are available at least to size 24/3XL, but many more are available in a size 5XL/32! trash queen carries a LOT of really unique prints in cute, on trend silhouettes (skater dresses! crop tops!) that are perfect for most alternative styles or anyone who likes bright, energetic fashion that is extremely affordable, (the most affordable on this list, in fact!!!) comfortable, and super unique. 

size range: XS - 5XL (0 - 30)

price range: $2.50 - $49 

Torrid

torrid is definitely a plus sized mainstay--lots of fairly high quality pieces at a pretty affordable price that are on-trend. torrid is great any time you need clothing for an event like a wedding, or if you need to dress business casual. i love torrid myself, and often stalk our local store for clearance items when they have BOGO clearance, as you can get slightly out of season dresses that are nice enough for work for like $8 - $20. 

size range: 10 - 30

price range: $6 - $118

Modcloth

modcloth has recently been adding a lot more pieces to their in house line, and all of them have been available in up to 4X, which is awesome. modcloth carries unique clothing that is really cute and quirky, typically with a vintage flair. similar to torrid, they offer a lot of great choices for events as well as business casual/office wear, which is often hard to find for plus sizes if you don’t want to go to tunic town or to wear anything super matronly. definitely recommend them! 

size range: XXS - 4XL (00 - 30)

price range: $5 - $325 (for wedding)

this list is to be updated periodically as i discover more shops or get more information on shops, and if you have somewhere you know that has extended plus sizes WITHOUT it being the stereotypical “u gotta cover yr body bc yr plus sized” tunic/potato sack faire then please send me an ask and i’ll add it to the list! >:3

[221bshrlocked]

Ever Enough

Pairing: Bucky X Reader

Words: 1366

Warnings: Angsty support!?

Anon asked “Can you do a Bucky x reader fic with the song "ever enough" by a rocket to the moon? You are always so good at writing song fics”

A/N: Let me know if you want to be tagged HERE or HERE.

It came out of nowhere. One day you were fine, the next thing you know you don’t want to deal with anyone. At first, you thought it was just the stress of the missions, the constant orders, the sounds of shots heard when you’re trying to sleep. But then it hit you.

You’ve been doing this for so long. You’ve been lying to your friends for so long. You’ve been keeping all your emotions bottled up for so long. And you had no outlet. No healthy one at least.

And it scared you because your brain somehow found a way to mess with you.

Mess with your relationship with Bucky.

You knew he would never leave you. Never. But because you had a fantastic way of overthinking, you snapped. And you felt horrible. But you snapped at him and immediately left, not looking back, not giving excuses, not giving explanations, not saying where you’re going.

Packing some clothes, you left to your old home, wanting nothing more than to feel your old life even for just a day. Wanting to feel normal for just a day.

Shutting your bedroom door behind you, you turned around and looked at the pictures set on window and the walls, smiling when you caught an old photo of your parents’ wedding day.

“Look at the mess I made mom.” You picked up the frame, crying silently at how happy they looked and wishing that you would be in their place one day.

“I fucked up didn’t I?” You sat on your bed, not knowing how to apologize to Bucky. That little part of your brain told you that he probably had it and once you return, would never talk to you again.

No I’m never gonna leave you darling No I’m never gonna go regardless Everything inside of me is living in your heartbeat Even when all the lights are fading Even then if your hope was shaking I’m here holding on

“I mean you didn’t fuck up completely but…” You almost dropped the frame, shooting out of your seat and looking behind you.

He was standing at the doorway, arms crossed and eyes staring right at you, a ghost of a smile on his face. He noticed you shift uncomfortably, placing down the picture and looking away from him.

I will always be yours forever and more Through the push and the pull I still drown in your love And drink 'til I’m drunk And all that I’ve done, Is it ever enough?

“Why are you here?” You shut your eyes at your cold tone, not wanting to sound so horrible but knowing your defense mechanisms were kicking in.

“Just wanted to make sure you’re alright doll.” You heard him walk slowly to you, heat radiating off of his hand that tried to pat your shoulder but not quite doing so.

I’m hanging on a line here baby I need more than if's and maybe's We’ll come down from the highest heights Still searching for the reason why And now I know what it’s like, Reaching from the other side After all that I’ve done

“Baby look at me.” He continued, not making it sound like a command but more of a request. Your heart broke at how kind he was. How was this man so forgiving? You yelled at him. You walked out on him with nothing to say. Your crying increased, making you incapable of doing anything. When he turned you around, he saw your eyes and his heart clenched. Pulling you slowly into a hug, he wrapped his arms around you and sat down on the bed, whispering assurances that he was not going to leave you.

I will always be yours forever and more Through the push and the pull I still drown in your love And drink 'til I’m drunk And all that I’ve done, Is it ever enough?

“What happened Y/N? Tell me. Please darlin I wanna help you but I can’t do that unless you tell me what’s goin on in that pretty little head of yours.” He felt you smile against his neck, relieved that you still responded to his pet names.

“I just...it was all too much Buck. I- couldn’t...god I don’t know.” Your sentences were left hanging in the air, making him shut his eyes at your pain. There was so much going on that he didn’t know and he hated that he wasn’t as supportive as you were.

“I’m here. I’m here. Not goin anywhere.” Raising your head, he quietly laid down on the bed and motioned for you to come in his arms. You did without hesitation, wanting support even for just the present time.

“Did I do something? Tell me if I did. I may not have me-” He started, making you cut him off instantly.

“No no no god no...it’s not you it’s me.” You raised your head, noticing him chuckle.

“People still use that line today?” His question made you laugh and Bucky took this chance to wipe your tears, looking at you.

For all that it’s worth, is it worth it? Cause more than it’s hard to desert it For all that it’s worth, is it worth it? How do we know without searching?

“It was a stupid thought really-”

“What was?” He was getting somewhere and didn’t want to make you drop the subject.

“I thought that..you- I was afraid that you’d...god. I was afraid you’d leave me.” You finally said it, looking at him to see his reaction. When his eyebrows furrowed, you worried about how you said it.

“Doll why would you ever think I would leave you? What we have is special. Could never find anyone like you. Did someone say that to you?” He sat up on his elbows, looking down at you and touching you cheek, trying to find any sign of discomfort from his last question.

“No it was all in my head. I...I thought you’d realize that I’m not good for you. So many of my friends don’t know what I’m doing and I just thought that they’d leave if they ever find out what I do for a living and then it hit me that you might leave me too and then I wouldn’t have anyone..” You couldn’t stop your breakdown even if you tried.

Bucky did the only thing he could do. The thing you always did when he was panicking.

Leaning down once more, he pulled you towards him and supported your head in his neck, his other hand finding its way on your back and roaming to calm you down.

“Shhhhhh it’s okay.” He repeated those two words over and over again until he heard you stop sniffing and your heart rate decrease.

I will write you this song to get back what’s ours Would that be enough?

“Listen to me Y/N. You’re stuck with me. Forever. I ain’t goin no where. Staying right here where you are. You’ve done so much for me. Fixed me. Loved me. Saw me for who I am when everyone else gave up on me.” He kept on reassuring you, wanting to make you believe what he was saying no matter what.

I will always be yours forever and more Through the push and the pull I still drown in your love And drink 'til I’m drunk And all that I’ve done, Is it ever enough?

“So, let me return the favor darlin. Let me help you, be your crutch, your crying pillow, your punching bag. Whatever you need. Will that be enough? Will I be enough?” He waited for your response, not wanting to push you any further.

For all that it’s worth, is it worth it? Is it ever enough? How could we know without searching? Is it ever enough?

You could hear his heartbeat, the soft sound almost putting you to sleep. It was steady and loud, calming you down until it matched yours.

With a tug on his shirt, you whispered a barely audible yes before falling asleep.

And for the first time in a long time, your brain didn’t mess with you.

Permanent tag list: @meganlane84 @mizzzpink @bringmetheemobands @kimistry27 @fireandicewillsuffice @vacam79 @amrita31199 @badassbaker @feelmyroarrrr @aekr @sexy-sea-basss @isaxhorror @actual-bucky-barnes-trash @cassandras-musings @mo320 @ssweet-empowerment @kapolisradomthoughts @queenmeplus1d @chameerah @purple-mango @harleyquinnandscarletwitch @bellejeunefillesansmerci @angryschnauzer @bladebarnes @huntermichelle @kristygeary @mrs-stan-barnes @jjlevin @retroasgardian @carailly @clean-and-claire @barnesvogue @also-known-as-me @seb-fucker-tucker @memory-of-a-goldfish @theonlyone-meeeee @debzybrazy @seeyainanotherlifebrotha @cloverrover @chameerah @mcuimxgine @hi-my-name-is-riley @kanupps06 @danni-blog @missmeganrachel @harrisbn @teenwolftimelord @queen-merc

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[mangled-dreams]

Dealings with a Devil (Part 21)

Dealings with a Devil (Part 21)

Reader X Darkiplier

You, Reader, have made a deal with what you believed to be a fantasized version of your favorite YouTuber’s alter ego, Darkiplier after he’d visited you in a dream. You believed Darkiplier to only exist in your dreams and on Markiplier’s YouTube channel, but by some impossible way he’s real and he intends on collecting on your debt to him.  

((Just as an FIY, Sean’s “fiance” is someone I made up and for the sake of the story he still lives in Ireland. I’m trying to stay mostly true to real life but it’s hard sometimes, especially when it doesn’t cross your mind to actually look up facts. lol.))

You wondered around London with Sean and Marline, visiting a few touristy points before meeting up with a few of Sean and Marline’s friends that heard they’d be in town. You were greeted in kind, a few having seen your work. You blushed at their kind words before heading into a pub and sort of enjoyed a half a pint of some kind of amber ale.

It’d been bitter and made your face scrunch up each time you took a spin. Sean took pity on your soul and ordered you something fruity and flavorful. He took your pint and easily drowned it. You laughed, thanked him, and sipped on your strawberry mango fusion.

You’d learned a lot from the Irishman and his buddies. There was a whole back story to their meeting, and they told you in detail. Some things better left to the imagination, if you’re being honest. Honestly you couldn’t have made a better day if you tried.

Marline and you decided to hit a few retail shops after dumping Sean on his English friends. Marline and you have a blast wandering through the shops and trying on random outfit, snapping photos, and laughing before getting a little more serious and purchasing a few items. You bought something for you mom and dad, even your two brother and for Dark despite your worry and displeasure with his disappearance.

"You look distracted." Marline finally says watching you pause in your action to look at her.

"Is it that obvious?" you ask a little defeated.

Marline gives you a soft smile and puts the shirt she was looking at away, trading the fabric for you. "Sweetie, you've been half gone since you arrived." she tells you resting a hand on your shoulder. You sigh.

"My boyfriend was supposed to join me on this trip. Kind of like a spur of the moment thing. He was going to meet me here in London, but..." Okay so you're not telling the complete truth, but at least you're not out right lying to her. "But someone at his work decided to act out and he was forced to cancel. I guess I'm just really bumped. This was going to be our first trip as a couple." you add not counting your trip to the Void thanks to Anti.

Marline gives you a sympathetic smile and offers a hug which you gladly accept. "I'm sure he would rather be here with you, drinking too much with Sean, and watching you smile so big as you try on clothes." she says. You nod your head in agreement, pressing your forehead into her shoulder.

"I want him here too." you whisper, meaning it.

Laying back on the hotel bed you stare up at the ceiling wondering where the hell Dark is for the third time in twenty minutes. You'd tried to keep your mind preoccupied with British late night TV and what American channels the TV gets. Letting your eyes drift you start to tune out the TV and let the blackness of unconsciousness take you over. It's blissful and free of worry...

At least it should be...

"Anti! I told you not to come near her!" Dark growls jarring you from your sleep.

You jolt up and look around, you're no longer in the hotel but in the Void, and in... an establishment? Looking around you notice a few faces staring right at you as Dark and Anti continue to argue behind you. Turning around you notice the establishment is like a pub.

"Who made you king?" Anti argues back. You look at the two, noticing their disheveled look.

"I did." Dark growls back.

You want to snap something back but refrain. Instead you stand up and dust your bare thighs off. You really wish you would have put your pajama pants on before laying down, but the room was just so warm and you just didn't care. "D-Dark? Anti...how did I get here again?" you ask watching both males swing their heads to look at you.

"Dove, what are you doing here like that?" Dark asks instantly at your side, wrapping his coat around your shoulders. The bottom of the coat brushes across your knees as you look up at Dark.

"I fell asleep in my hotel room and woke up here when I heard you and Anti arguing again." you respond glancing around at the shocked faces looking back at you. "C-can you send me back to the hotel room? I don't like being without my pants with so many eyes on me." you tell him holding the coat in place.

"Of course." Dark says, agreeing with your request. He too does not like so many eyes viewing what is his and his alone, despite what someone my think.

"No! Ya only just arrived to that party. Come sit with me, share a drink. Wouldn't want you to miss the best part." Anti says zipping to your side and easily takes you from Dark's grip. He sits you down on a bar stool, your feet easily dangling in the air before resting on a small peg meant for height challenged individuals such as yourself.

"Anti, I want to go home. I don't have the right kind of..." before you can finish you sentence you're clothing is different. A knee length cocktail dress replaces your tee-shirt and panties and Dark's jacket reappears in his arms. He glares at Anti, walking over to the table and claims the seat next to you.

"She asked to go home, Anti. Respect her wishes." Dark warns wrapping his arm around your waist. You look between the two then at your clothes. You wonder if you could create clothing too in the Void.

Looking at Anti you decided to give it a try as retribution for his actions. You draw inspiration from a Las Vegas documentary you saw for a few brief moments while channel surfing before being brought to the Void, you imagine Anti dressed in bright fluorescent pinks, yellows, and oranges. You picture him with a large feather, peacock esque back piece wrapped securely around his shoulders and a two piece bikini with bright rhinestones and glitter galore. A headdress mirroring the feathered back piece on a smaller scale and thigh high three inch silver metallic boots finish off the outfit.

The sound that comes out of Anti mouth as his clothing changed instantly from his normal ripped jeans and faded graphic tee to a Las Vegas showgirl is priceless and hilarious. You've never seen anyone look so horrified by their own appearance. Well, once but that was because Anthony lost a bet. You so wished you had your phone to take a photo of the ridiculousness of this moment.

Green electrical sparks fly off Anti as his whole form began to glitch in and out at a rapid rate. You can see a look of pure hatred and blood lust in his eyes as he looks to Dark with accusation. You quickly sober when it become obvious Anti blames Dark for his sudden and less than appreciated clothing change.

Clearing your throat Anti's gaze jumps to you. "I think fluorescent pink is a rather attractive color on you, Anti." It's not what you meant to say but it instantly takes the blame off Dark. Both males stare at you with awe and horror. "Sorry, I may have gone a little far with the outfit, but honestly you had it coming, Anti. I mean the freaking biting and transporting me here! What do you expect? Even I have a mean streak. I do have two older brothers. A girl has to have a few dirty tricks up her sleeves if she wants to survive that horror show." You say as his clothing quickly changes back to what he was wearing before.

"How long have you been able to manifest clothing?" Dark asks practically sharing your seat.

"Ah...just now? I never come here so I didn't even know it was a possibility." you tell him honestly. How are you supposed to know what you can and can't do when you suck at every attempted training and you're always on the go? What little down time you get anymore is spent with Dark or with your family.

Dark gives a thoughtful look before looking at Anti. "No ideas, Anti. She's going home." Dark decrees sternly.

"No, not home. The hotel in London. I can't just disappear. Poor Sean and Marline would have heart attacks." you say frightened at the thought of waking up in your apartment and there be a frantic search in London for you.

"Of course, Dove, that is what I meant." Dark says a little tight lipped.

You frown at him. "Dark, I...."

"Nonsense. You can stay here, I'll gladly keep ya company. After all, we do share a very intimate bond, you and I." Anti cackles from his seat across from you.

"Anti you rarely make sense to me. What are you talking about?" you ask. Half of what Anti says is confusing and full of mystery. If he were a bit more charming and circumstances were different, it's be intriguing, but circumstances as they are, he just annoys you.

"Didn't lover boy here explain what it means to blood let?" Anti asks as a few people, well, demons in the room gasp. Others simply stare in horror.

You feel a dread in the pit of your stomach. "You said that you turned me into whatever you really are...isn't that the extent of blood letting?"

Anti smiles wide at you, that same wide smile that makes your cheeks hurt. "Oh, no my dear...you and I are bound. No matter where you go, what you do, or who you," For a moment you believe Anti to say love, but instead he crudely says, "fuck, I will always know. I'll be that little voice in yer head, talking, whispering, in there. There will never be a time that I cannot reach ya, darlin'. You are stuck with me for all yer life. That how I can easily slip in without alertin' ya until it's too late." Anti explains. You suppress a shiver at the knowledge.

You look down at the table, trying to make rational thought after this little informational speech of Anti's, when it hits you. If you are like him, and there was a transfusion of blood, of sorts, then you should have the same capabilities as he does. "Then that means I can do the same. I doubt thing around her a simply one sided. If you took my blood, whether it was or was not offered--which it wasn't, then the abilities should swing both ways. I'll be able to slip right next to you without raising your alarms as well as talk telepathically with you." you say smiling at Anti. "Which is honestly bad on your part. I mean knowing whom I sleep with...I could...you know accidentally connect to you while in the thralls of love making and you'd be subjected to whatever comes to mind. I'm not sure if you'd have such a cocky smile at that point." you say watching his smile slowly die as your words slowly sink into his skull.

Dark chuckles. "This is promising." he says continuing to chuckle at the dark look on Anti's face.

You shrug your shoulders at Anti. "Sorry, Anti my boy, you chose the wrong woman to share blood with. I'm telling ya. I may seem pretty sweet and innocent, but when you've been working for people on the internet for as long as I have you, well...don't let the smile fool ya." you add. You can't add anymore or listen to Anti response. the world goes back and when you are able to see again, you're in the hotel room on your bed once more.

Frowning you look at the clock on your night stand and sigh. Time flows so differently in the Void.

"Did you enjoy yourself?" Dark ask and you jolt up once again.

"You're here!" You say happy to see your lover in your neck of the woods once again. Jumping from the bed you wrap your arms around Dark's waist and hold him close. "You're not hurt are you?" you ask looking Dark over for any signs of injuries.

Dark shakes his head before lifting you from the ground and carries you to the bed, setting you down. It's during this time you realize you're still in the dress Anti had manifested for you. "Is this going to disappear?" you ask grabbing a handful of the skirt.

"Yes," Dark says matter of factually. "however, it is not because you are outside of the Void, but because I am making it disappear." he adds as the dress disappears off your body leaving you bare to Dark's eyes. His very hungry eyes. "I fear I have been gone from you for far too long." he whispers before pressing a kiss to your breast. You agree.

Part 22

[lady-divine-writes]

Klaine one-shot - “A Cheesy Proposal” (Rated PG)

Kurt and Blaine are shopping for cheese for their first ever official dinner party in their brand new apartment, when something unexpected happens in the middle of the dairy aisle that not only changes their party plans, but their lives. (1383 words)

Just fluff. Inspired by the post http://ship-to-w-r-e-c-k.tumblr.com/post/164380618454 and assumes that Blaine moves to New York to live in the loft with Kurt after he graduates from high school, but that his proposal at Dalton or his relationship with Karofsky never happened.

Read on AO3.

“So, we have cheddar …”

“Check.”

“Monterey jack.”

“Check.”

“Pepper jack.”

“Check,” Blaine answers, moving food items from one end of the shopping cart to the other as Kurt names them off his mental shopping list.

“Blue, goat, and gouda.”

“Check, check, and check.”

“Great. All we need is brie and crackers, and we’re all set.”

“Got it.” Blaine continues down the aisle towards a display containing soft cheeses, festooned with plastic pumpkins and fake leaves in preparation for colder weather holidays. But Kurt and Blaine have a different cause to celebrate. Tomorrow night they would be hosting their first official dinner party in their brand new apartment. Their apartment, not the loft that, even though it was an amazing space for an amazing price, never really felt like home to Blaine. This apartment was their place. They chose it together. It belonged to the two of them in equal parts. And even though it was smaller by probably half the square footage and more expensive by several hundred dollars, Blaine couldn’t be happier. This was another first to mark off the list, the most important bucket list of all - the one they created to commemorate their life together.

They’d start with the apartment, and then, in a few months from now, when they were settled with school and their jobs and each other, Blaine would ask Kurt to marry him.

With any luck, the pain of their past would be far enough behind them that Kurt would say yes.

“No, wait. Didn’t Sam mention wanting to try …?”

“Oh yeah.” Kurt frowns. “He wanted that tacky fruit-and-nut cheese, didn’t he? That’s neon orange and comes in a ball?”

“Yeah.”  Blaine chuckles, recalling the abject horror on Kurt’s face when Sam first mentioned it. But they’re pulling out all the stops for this dinner. They want to include a little something special for every guest, which is why they’re buying a six-pack of Rachel’s latest obsession – coconut mango flavored Chia Vitality beverage, and a box of Franzia sunset blush for Brittany.

Kurt originally turned his nose up at the idea of buying wine that comes in a box. He lives by the adage that friends don’t let friends drink boxed wine, while Blaine sees it as an adult version of Capri Sun.

But Santana says Brittany thinks wine tastes fancier when it comes from a box, so boxed wine it is.

“Do you think we look for it under ‘cheese balls’ then?” Blaine asks, snickering at his own question.

“No. It has some weird name. I texted it to myself.” Kurt reaches into his messenger bag and pulls out his phone, but something else falls out. A small, leather box hits the ground with a dull thump. The second it does, both men’s eyes dart to it – Blaine’s with curiosity, and Kurt’s with fear. With the same thought in mind, they both reach for it.

Blaine gets to it first.

“Kurt?” He holds the box up, examining it for any indication that it’s anything more than an empty old box. If he hadn’t been paying attention, he might have written it off as the box to the promise ring he had given Kurt back in high school, the one he’d made from chewing gum wrappers. Kurt used to carry it around with him everywhere. But that box was red.

This one is black.

“Kurt? What is this?”

“Oh, that?” Kurt reaches for it, but, without Blaine making a move to keep it, he pulls his hand away. “It’s just a … it’s kind of a …”

“Kurt” – Blaine is on the brink of opening it, but he doesn’t want to. Not without permission. If Kurt just lets him open it, it might not be what Blaine thinks it is.

What he hopes it is.

“Is this a …?” He runs his thumb over the lid, the edges a little worse for wear, as if Kurt has been carrying it around in his bag along with his school books for quite some time. Kurt looks at Blaine’s face, contemplating how to get out of this quickly, painlessly, and more importantly, honestly, but he can’t figure out a way around it. He didn’t think he’d have to come up with an excuse for this, not now, and not here in the middle of the deli department. He looks into Blaine’s hope-filled eyes and sighs.

“Yes. It’s an engagement ring.”

Blaine’s hand holding the box trembles, as if the weight of what’s inside has suddenly become too much for him. “H-how long have you had this?”

“Well, I … actually, I bought it the day I moved to New York.” Kurt takes Blaine’s hand in his. “After my plane landed, I went wandering the city streets, thinking about how much my life was going to change, and how much I wanted you to be a part of that change because being in the city of my dreams, working towards getting on Broadway, it wouldn’t be as much fun without you.” Kurt uncurls Blaine’s fingers from the box, but Blaine is reluctant to let go of it. Now that he knows it exists, he doesn’t want to give it up. But Kurt doesn’t put the box away. He lifts the lid, revealing the most beautiful white gold filigree ring Blaine has ever seen, set with sapphires in the center of the swirls. It’s simple but elegant, and perfect in absolutely every way. “I was walking past a pawn shop when I saw this in the window.” Kurt glances down at it, laughing nervously at the memory, but also at the reality of presenting Blaine this ring in the middle of the supermarket, with a small crowd of onlookers gathering. “It kind of leaped out at me. I couldn’t stop looking at it, couldn’t stop picturing it on your finger. I knew right then that I could search the rest of my life and never find a more perfect ring. It reminded me of how you came into my life, out of the blue, and how I knew from that moment I would never meet a more perfect person for me.”

“Do you still believe that? E-even after everything?” Blaine asks in disbelief, not going so far as to divulge the dirty details in front of their impromptu audience.

“Even after everything,” Kurt says with a small smile. “It may sound silly or naïve, but I knew it would be you. In a year from now or ten years from now, it would always be you. And once I came to terms with that, everything else fell into place.”

Blaine looks at the ring, its sapphires twinkling beneath the bright market lights, and swallows hard. “Kurt, I …”

“Just tell me, before we make a scene …” Kurt gets down on one knee, lunging instead on kneeling so as not to ruin his jeans “… would you …?”

“Yes!” Blaine exclaims, holding out his hand so Kurt can slip the ring on his finger. “Yes! Absolutely, yes!” He grabs Kurt’s upper arms and helps him up, then throws his arms around him and kisses him. Normally, Blaine wouldn’t kiss Kurt in public. They’re cautious about even holding hands. But he can’t help himself. Not after that speech, and what has to be one of the happiest moments of his young life. Not when all he can hear is Kurt moaning into his mouth, and the modest but gleeful applause billowing around them.

“How about we go home and celebrate in private?” Kurt suggests, opting to cut their kiss short when he remembers that they’re not entirely alone in the cheese aisle.

“That sounds like a wonderful idea,” Blaine says, happy to abandon their shopping and head for the nearest exit. They walk three feet past a line of beaming shoppers, still wrapped in each other’s embrace, when Kurt stops short and spins with Blaine still latched to his arm.

“Wait!”

“What?”

“We still need to buy cheese for the party!”

“Except now it can be a housewarming-slash-engagement party,” Blaine points out.

“Which means …”

“We should buy another box of wine.”

“Absolutely,” Kurt says, steering them back towards the alcohol with Blaine’s arm in his. “If one box is fancy, two will put us over the top!”

[amarietie]

Fic Ask: Blind Date, 3 per chapter

Ohhh goodness it definitely took me longer than necessary to get around to this, but here we are!  Also, it’s very possible that these lines are more like sections than lines, and sort of toe the line between ‘significant’ and ‘I just really like them.”

And wellllll I was going to stick this behind a 'read more' but I don't know how to do that in HTML and every time I do an edit in rich text, it deletes all of my HTML formatting, so... please excuse the long ass post

From this meme:

Chapter 1

“So, have you decided what courses you’re going to take yet?” [Mikleo] opted to ask instead, thankfully feeling like he was regaining a bit of his composure.  And from that calmer perspective, he realized that he was maybe having fun with this.  It was kind of like a game - how to go about exchanging all of the most basic, introductory information while still making it look like they knew each other well.

This is the moment when Mikleo flips from flustered to enjoying himself.  And I think this is the kind of game that both of them would absolutely enjoy.

If asked later at what point the evening had stopped feeling like a fake date and more like talking with someone he had known for years, Mikleo couldn’t exactly say.  But as they exited the restaurant into the faintly chilly evening, he felt entirely content.

I really enjoyed this line because I feel like the two of them would just fall into an easy friendship effortlessly, even beyond any sort of physical attraction.  No matter what they’re both coming out of this one conversation feeling like best friends already.

Later,Mikleo would wonder what exactly had made him so bold.  Perhaps it was the second drink he had over the course of the meal, or maybe the stars were in the right alignment, or maybe he just really likedSorey.  Whatever, the cause, he worked uphis courage to reach out and grab the hand still scratching at Sorey’s cheek, and then plant a feather-light kiss in its place.

Kind of similar to the lats line and kind of in conjunction to it - Mikleo can get flustered, sure, but he’s feeling content and he likes this boy a lot already, and that lets him be a bit bold.

Chapter 2

“Good afternoon and welcome to Seraph Ice CreamParlor.  How can I help you today?”  Mikleo asked in a very goodcustomer-service voice as Sorey approached the counter.  He was betrayed,however, by the sly grin on his face and sparkle in his eye.Oh, so that’s how this was going to be. “Well, I’m supposed to be meeting up with this really good looking guyfor a date.  Seen anyone like that around here?”“I can’t say that I’ve seen anyoneparticularly attractive at all today.”“Not even me?”“Nope.”“Harsh,” Sorey said, deflating a little. “This is revenge for implying you might work at a chain shop, isn’t it?”“Perhaps.  And you really did walkinto that one.”

Nothing like a little bit of flirty banter

He had always been picky about vanilla ice cream, because its simplicitymeant that every component had to be perfect, and this was perfect.  It felt like silkon his tongue, and the vanilla flavor came through, instead of just tasting ofmilk and sugar.  He closed his eyes for amoment to savor the experience, and when he opened them again Mikleo was hidinga laugh behind his hand that brightened his face in the most wonderfulway.  The thought rose unbidden toSorey’s mind that he really was amazing. Two dates with the guy, one ofthem not even official, and I’m completely doomed.

Sorey’s fucking crush goggles, on both Mikleo and his ice cream…

This time, [Sorey] was ready for the attack on his dessert and tried to block with his own spoonas Mikleo made a second pass at the mango sorbet.  After a few minutes struggle, Mikleo emergedvictorious, and took his second bite with what looked like a challenge.  “Hah, I win this time.”No way, that was not going to stand.  But there was hardly an equivalent way toretaliate.  That’s when Sorey got anidea.  He could feel the wheels in hishead start to turn, trying to tell him why it was a bad idea, or that he had noidea what he was doing, but he clamped down on that quick; this was not a momentto be overthinking.  Instead, he leanedslightly to the side to press their mouths together in a kiss.

A little bit of competitiveness, and first kiss!

Chapter 3

In search of a distraction, Soreyreached into his bag of snacks and pulled out the first thing he grabbed.  It was a bag of gummy boars, labeled with apicture of a little, cartoon-ish prickly boar, in case anyone happened to beconfused about the contents.  “Do youwant a gummy boar?  They’re that organicbrand, so no gelatin.  I checked,” heexplained before Mikleo had the chance to ask.“Youdidn’t have to get those.  They’re twicethe price of the regular ones.”“Igot all of this stuff for us to eat, though. It would be no fun if we couldn’t share.”

Half of why I like this is because I’m a nerd to who likes working in as many random little Zesty bits as possible, but also Sorey being considerate of Mikleo’s preferences.

Rose scoffed from where she waswaiting for her turn off to the side. “More like show off in front of your boyfriend.”Soreycould feel the heat in his cheeks, and a quick glance at Mikleo confirmed thathe was blushing too.  They hadn’t had anyofficial conversations about what to call themselves, but Sorey didn’tparticularly want to refute that statement. Mikleo stayed silent on the matter as well.  Did that mean that he considered themboyfriends?  They would have to talkabout it at some point, but just the implications made Sorey feel a littlegiddy.Itmust have shown on his face, because a moment later, Edna scoffed and said, “Ohgross.  Now look what you’ve done, Rose.”

This is the first mention of them being in an actual relationship, rather than just having a few dates, and of course it’s Rose who said it, before they even did.  And then I just had to include Edna’s reaction for the snark.

Mikleo sighed with relief and hisposture relaxed.  “Well, that’s good tohear.  If you didn’t like my friends, itwould be a lot harder to try to keep you around.”“You’retrying to keep me around, huh?”“Well,yeah.  Cute, willing to let me kick hisbutt at pool, and an ancient history nerd? Where else am I going to find that?”Soreyducked his head and fiddled with his earring, sheepish in the face of thecompliment.  But there was a big smilegrowing across his face.  “I’d like tokeep you around, too.”

Actual confirmation (sort of, you know, without actually saying the words) from the boys that yest, they do want this to be a real relationship.

Chapter 4

‘Energetic’ was certainly amongst the first words that came to mind whenthinking about Sorey, but it turns out he was just plain good at directing thatenergy.  That came at the price of tuning out the rest of the world, andan apparent inability to keep track of writing utensils.

This line is kind of important to Sorey’s characterization for this story, actually.  The more and more I’ve written Blind Date Sorey, the more it seems like he has a little bit of ADHD to me.  Now, of course, this doesn’t eliminate the fact that he’s smart and a great student - one of my best friends from college had ADHD and she was very bright and made good grades - but it does have an effect on how I’ve been viewing him, personally.

Even as he picked up his spoon and set into the whipped cream on top ofthe shake, he could feel himself starting to droop to the side.  Soreygave him a small, sweet smile as he came to rest against his shoulder, and thenskillfully went to work distracting Rose and Dezel by asking about Dezel’smajor and classes.  Between bites, he managed to tease out information bitby bit on his self-designed program in animal behavior in hopes of one daytraining service animals.  Mikleo couldn’t quite remember if he’d everheard Dezel say so many words in one sitting, and it came to him then exactlywhat a wonderful person everyone at Ladylake University had managed to miss.

I like this bit both for Sorey casually distracting the others from sleepy Mik because he knows sleepy Mik will be embarrassed about it.  And also, Mikleo kinda has it bad for Sorey, too.

Sorey pouted, but then his face brightenedagain.  He reached out to tap Mikleo’s nose with a finger, and said,“Luzrov Rulay.”Mikleo had been busy going cross-eyed tosee the finger on his nose, but he looked back out to meet Sorey’s eyes. He looked incredibly proud of himself.  It took a moment for Mikleoto piece together a translation, because he hadn’t taken any Ancient Tonguesince last spring, but when he did, he shot him an incredulous glare and asked,“Did you seriously just call me ‘Mikleo the Enforcer?’”

This was one of the bits I was most excited about from this chapter, mostly because, once again, I’m a nerd and wanted to work in Mikleo’s true name.  Props to Sorey, too, for whipping out that Ancient Language translation.

Alright, wow, thanks everybody who stuck through this whole thing, it’s damn long as expected. But it was also kinda cool. When I first got this ask, I was thinking I would be hard pressed to find 3 lines from each chapter, but as I worked on it, I was actually having a hard time cutting down to 3 lines per chapter, lol.  Also, thank you to the lovely @neodiji for asking!!