#i got too lost in the sauce and now have to back track and add my citations

[questionableresponses]

fuck citations tbh just lemme put the thinks i used. ill do them in apa 7th thats not hard but hhh

[overstuffd]

mmmm thinkling about being a hacker who sees a perfect target while tapping through unsecured webcams one day.

cute, curvy, a small belly peeking out from under her shirt. she doesn't know anyone's watching as she idly snacks on the open bag of chips on her desk. I decide to see how little prodding it takes for her to give in to indulging her every whim.

i start off by subtly influencing her social media feeds. delicious food and porn, side by side and one right after the other. she might notice something seems different, but the porn is welcome considering the selection of toys i had amazon 'misdeliver' to her house have been getting a lot of use.

once she's started associating her newly increased orgasm rate with food, it's time to start upping the portions. she gets her groceries delivered, so it's easy to make a few substitutions and editions. Extra-thick, honey sweetened yoghurt instead of her normal low fat brand. Her favourite diet soda was 'sold out' but luckily she's well stocked in the full sugar version.

she's sure she didn't add these bags of chips to the order, or this box of donuts, but the delivery guy shrugs and says they're free so it would be silly to throw them out.

i make sure the first thing she sees when she turns on her phone in the morning is something to turn her on and something to get her stomach rumbling. hot pancakes, oozing syrup. a plate stacked with greasy bacon and eggs with a mountain of fried potatoes. some upscale bakery showing off their latest cream stuffed pastries.

at this point i'll be tracking every like, every video she lingers on just a bit too long to know exactly what she'll be unable to resist. and it's such a coincidence that a coupon for that exact bakery appeared in her inbox just as she was looking at them. it's such a good deal, and it expires today, so it would be a shame not try all of the ones she's had her eye on.

doubling her order as it comes through is a simple, explainable glitch. still, most of these pastries won't be good tomorrow, so she might as well try all of them, it's not like she has to finish them all.

later that night, as she goes back to the fridge for the fourth time, she scoops the last blob of frosting up with a scrap of pastry and sighs. she's definitely getting a little softer around the middle, but she can't worry about that now - she's just found out she's lost her job by email. she's so lucky though, because later that day she gets offered a spot on a medical weed trial she can't even remember applying for. a few well placed changes on my part and she's getting paid to smoke up every day at home, fresh flower and vape carts carefully delivered every week.

the 'study' pays well, so why shouldn't she get most of her food delivered? she's too stoned to move most of the day anyway, and she has such good luck with ordering in lately, every restaurant seems to be throwing in free extra desserts and appetisers every time she orders.

that night, her large meat feast pizza (already more than she used to order) comes with garlic bread, wings, curly fries, soda and icecream and fist sized tubs of creamy sauces. you try and ask the delivery boy a question but he mumbles something about a promotion, and what, is she going to say no to free food?

as she sits down, she barely notices as i set the youtube on her tv to start a playlist of cute girls trying different fast food places, giggling as they took huge bites of rich, calorific foods.

the strain i picked out for her has already got her hungry and horny, so she flops down on the couch in her sweatpants and t-shirt. this shirt used to be loose on her, but it's definitely stretching tighter across her tits and slightly bulging stomach. she barely notices though, grabbing a slice of pizza and chugging soda straight from the bottle as her already hazy mind gets softer. she doesn't realise she's finishing what should be a meal for a family of four until most of it's gone.

her stomach feels uncomfortably tight, straining against the waistband of her now-tight sweatpants. she pulls the band down and her stomach springs out, angry red marks showing where it had bitten into her soft flesh.

my conditioning has been working, and she doesn't know why, but the feeling of her being so stuffed makes her pussy ache, and she slides a hand into her pants to find herself dripping wet. she starts playing with herself as she finishes the lst slice of pizza, forces a few more fries into her heavy gut. the more she eats, the better her fingers feel on her clit, her flabby brain well trained at this point to associate food with sex, being stuffed full with cumming what was left of her brains out.

she's on the edge now, but she's finished the food and even though her stomach is straining and sensitive she can't make herself finish without something to eat at the same time.

she's lucky she forgot to put the icecream in the freezer. she pulls the melted tub towards herself, too pinned under the weight of her bloated stomach to even lean over for it. the thick mix of cream, sugar, chocolate and caramel pour down her throat as she slowly begins to chug the mixture. her free hand is back between her legs, frantically fucking her needy pussy as her belly stretches beyond what she thought she handle. as the last of the icecream drips down her throat she cums, harder than she thinks she's ever come before.

she slumps back, too happy to care that she's surrounded by greasy pizza boxes and that there's melted icream smeared across her tits.

watching through her webcam, i'm already planning all the fun deliveries she's going to be getting in the next fes days.

[seasidepierre]

i sent in the max drabble idea about the cooking but it would absolutely also work for pierre! i actually meant to add that in my original ask :)

It had taken a grand total of five gurgling stomach noises, six “Ugh, I’m hungry” and about a thousand sighs for Pierre to understand that you, in fact, were famished. Not that your boyfriend was usually this ignorant when it came to your state (he actually never was, he was pretty perceptive in normal times and mindful to have you happy, fed and content) but he had been playing Warzone for what felt like forever and despite your constant signs throwing at him that you wanted him to put that damn controller down, he had been somewhat yelling into his headset for Charles to actually “do something, God dammit!”. 

Needless to say, you had heard Charles’ yells in your little living room more than the soft music you had been playing in hopes it’d drown the yelling, the gunshots and the helicopter blades whirring. You didn’t even comprehend where the fun was in throwing yourself in a game of war like those two kept doing. You had gladly accepted Pierre moved his console from his parents’ to your place because you didn’t want to prevent him from playing and having fun and you also weren’t against video games yourself, but you hadn’t expected it to turn your flat into a scene of battle. 

“Are you okay?” Pierre had finally asked after the uptenth sigh you had heaved. 

“I’m hungry,” You had moaned back.

“Well eat something,” Pierre had giggled.

“Pierre, it’s almost 10pm, I’ve been waiting for you for dinner,” You had explained.

“IT’S TEN PM?” Charles had yelled back.

“Hi Charles, yes, it’s past ten, even,” You had responded.

“Oh shoot, my girlfriend has been waiting for me too,” Charles had explained. “I think it’s time to call it quits, mate.”

“Tell her I said hi,” Pierre smiled fondly. “We’ll get back to this tomorrow?”

“Sure, if we’re both free and our poor girls aren’t too mad.”

“I’m never mad, Charles, I’m happy you guys are having fun, I’m just hungry.”

“She’s the best,” Pierre giggled. “See you soon mate,” He added, before turning the console off. “I’m sorry I lost track of time, do you want me to cook to make myself forgiven?” He smiled, his hands coming down on your thighs to drape your legs over his. 

“What do you have in mind?”

“What are you in the mood for?”

“Kinda am craving pasta right now.”

“How about fresh bolognese? And I’ll make my famous chocolate cake for dessert?”

“You would?” You lit up like a Christmas tree.

“I know how much you love it.”

“That chocolate cake is the best thing I’ve ever had,” You whined, closing your eyes and falling into his chest. “Don’t joke about that chocolate cake.”

“Do I ever lie to you?”

He never was. Of all the boyfriends you’ve had (not that you’d had that many), Pierre was the most honest, upfront guy you’ve ever got to date. It probably was because you were best friends before you ever became more, but he had no issue telling you the truth as it was, just like you didn’t wear gloves when the time of hard truths came. You would call him out on his ego sometimes and he would be blatantly honest when you’d be wearing a questionable outfit. It was never mean or rude, it was looking out for the best for each other and you loved that. 

Pierre took your hand and dragged your body back up. He pushed you to the kitchen and sat you on the counter next to where he was currently setting up everything he needed. He grabbed a carrot, an onion, the ground beef, a can of tomato pulp, salt, pepper, butter and everything else he needed before he opened a couple of cabinets to fetch a couple of pans, one for the sauce, one for the pasta. 

“So what are we gonna do first?” You asked.

“You always start with the sauce, because it takes a bit more time to cook,” He explained.

“You seemed to know a lot about this,” You teased him.

He smiled at the onion he was currently chopping, his eyes barely even watering which was a miracle but it seemed to be down to the fact that he had run his knife under water beforehand, something you didn’t even know. 

“When I moved to Italy, I was so completely lost at the beginning. Like, obviously you find the same type of products than here, but they do things differently and it was the first time I was really on my own and responsible for my meals.. So I took a few cooking classes with one of my neighbours. She was very helpful.”

“Oh you found yourself a nice lady in Italy, then?” You semi-joked, a bit of jealousy appearing in the pits of your stomach. 

“She was seventy and couldn’t stop gushing about her grandkids,” Pierre laughed. “You have nothing to worry about, mon amour.”

You felt so dumb that all you could do was lean your forehead on his shoulder and looked at what he was doing. Pierre started by putting the oil, butter and chopped onion in the pan that he had previously placed on the stove. He told you that you should always stick to the medium heat, because the higher one just had a tendency to burn everything, which made you smile because you had no idea Pierre knew this much about cooking. He left you in charge of the stirring while he was making sure the ground beef was correctly salted and peppered, before he crumbled it with a fork that he had fished in a drawer.

The fact that he knew exactly where to find everything was still making your heart swell, even though he had been somewhat living with you for almost six months now. 

He added the beef, told you to keep an eye open and to let him know when the meat wouldn’t be red anymore. After that, he did something you hadn’t expected and added milk to the preparation, which made you frown but he laughed, telling you that it was a secret he had learned from his neighbour and to trust him. So you did, especially when he uncorked a bottle of white wine, poured a quarter of it in your pan and grabbed two glasses for you to sip on while he took back the reins, or, more accurately, the wooden spoon. You did pour the tomato pulp, because he let you do it while he was filling the pot with water to cook the spaghetti and got another bowl to start on the chocolate cake while you were supervising the bolognese. 

The kitchen smelled deliciously good and the rumbling in your stomach truly kept getting louder and louder, only tamed by the sips of white wine you were getting and with the hand of Pierre rubbing gently your belly from behind you, before dropping a kiss on the crook of your shoulder. 

“It’s almost ready, I swear,” Pierre reassured you. “The cake will bake while we eat, it’ll still be warm for dessert, which I know is your favourite way of having it.”

“Do we have custard to go with it?” You enquired.

“I grabbed a brick at the grocery store. I knew you would ask for that cake and I knew you’d ask for custard with it,” Pierre tenderly confirmed.

“You know me so well,” You kissed him, lovingly.

“After all these years? I sure hope so. I’ve known you since we were five, mon amour!”

“And? You could have not paid attention,” You shrugged.

“Me? Not paying attention to you? That would have been worrying,” He scoffed. “I still remember that your favourite pen in primary school was a pink one with a little cat at the top of it.”

You giggled at his confession, still admirative that you weren’t the only one collecting details about him that you had carefully tucked in a corner of your memory. You knew everything there was to know about Pierre and he knew everything there was to know about you. You were each other’s guardian of everything that made yourselves you. 

“It’s funny how vocal you were and how you taught me to make that bolognese, but not the chocolate cake,” You remarked.

“That’s because one, the bolognese isn’t rightly made, it should stew for like three hours but you’re hungry so we’re doing a crash version of it, and two, I’m afraid you love that cake more than me, so it I teach you how to make it, I’ll be useless,” Pierre joked.

“You’re an idiot,” You giggled.

“Maybe, but I’m your idiot, so it’s your problem, really,” He shrugged, amused.

He was. He was your idiot and that truly made you so happy, it was ridiculous. You couldn’t remember the last time you thought you truly belonged to someone, someone that wasn’t Pierre already because he was your best friend and you were his and that’s what mattered the most. But to know that you could leave your heart into his hands, appreciating the fact that you didn’t have to fear anything because he would protect it fiercely? That was more than words could describe. 

Dating Pierre wasn’t easy every day. When it wasn’t the loneliness, the tears at every goodbye or the frustration that sometimes made him hurtful without realising, your insecurities kept telling you that you always were on the verge of being replaced by someone who would be thinner, prettier, more available, someone who would let him in charge and would accept to be dependent on him, so he’d never be alone. 

But when it came to the solar boy in your kitchen, baking your favourite cake just because he wanted to make you happy, you knew you were safe and cherished for years to come.

Or maybe even for infinity.

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[buckybarnesdiaries]

secrets

© credits to the author, i found it on pinterest. if you are the author, please send me a message to add your @.

bucky barnes x reader. ⎢ masterlist.

request made by @homesicam: hi maria!! can I have prompt 15, feels mysterious and all and god bless bucky's soul (ofc) !! and thank you so much for your work !! ❤️

prompt: “Will be our secret”.

word count: 1.165 words.

warnings/tags: none. bucky feeling like a lost puppy trying to fit in.

author notes: none of my stories contain reader’s body descriptions to be inclusive.

Join the tag list here.

Like every time you came back from a mission, where you needed a little calm, you waited for the small hours to hit the clock. Walking out from your dorm, you led your feet through the hallways to downstairs. Crossing the huge large living room, you stepped to the back garden of the compound. As soon as you took off your house slippers, you continued along the grass, feeling the strands of grass beneath your toes tickling you. The sky was covered by shining stars all around and for a split second your mind went blank. There wasn’t any horror, any danger, any pain. The wounds and the scratches in your face and arms went to the background, as you closed your eyes to breathe the soft breeze fluttering your hair. You felt free.

Taking a seat on the grass, you put your knees against your chest and wrapped them with both arms. Sometimes you used to think about what made you so special to be part of the Avengers. You weren’t like Natasha, a professional spy. You weren’t like Tony, a genius. And of course, you weren’t a god, nor a witch, nor a supersoldier. Not even just a soldier like Sam. Of course, they were more than those skills. You were just an agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. that survived its destruction and falling. It was inevitable to feel small when you joined them in their missions. Even so, it was better if any of them heard you talk about yourself like that, or they’d end up kicking your ass to be too humble and unfair with yourself and how much you train and work hard every single day. With no excuses.

“A broken heart is all that’s left, I’m still fixing all the cracks. Lost a couple of pieces when I carried it, carried it, carried it home…” Like a defense mechanism against your own hurtful thoughts, you started to sing with your eyes put on a starry night above your head.

A few days ago, you discovered that song and got really obsessed for some reason you didn’t know. It was like picking at the scab, thinking about your parents, about how much you missed them, about what they could be thinking about you. Would they feel proud? Would they feel scared?

“I’m afraid of all I am. My mind feels like a foreign land, silence ringing inside my head. Please, carry me… carry me… carry me home”.

“You sound like my mother”.

Those words raced your heart, more because of the surprise of someone else being there than for the confession. You couldn’t help but jump up from the floor, shaking the strands of grass from your clothes. Bucky was in front of you, a couple of steps away. He had his head slightly tilted to the right, squinting with some kind of confusion running through his mind. You crossed your arms on your chest a little ashamed, rubbing your nose with a side of your hand as you tried to hold back a tear.

Then, you dawn on and your brain reproduced his words again. For you, it meant a shock. You could count with the fingers of both hands the times you had shared a couple of words, maybe a small talk in a meeting before a mission. And you were sure it was the first time you two were alone. Bucky was pretty quiet, even shy you’d dare to say. After all the shit he lived in for many years, the fear of coming back to those dark days was still chasing him. Steve told you that he used to try and speak to anyone, to be normal, to be trusted. But after what he was forced to do, no one really trusted in him. And it wasn’t like you didn’t care about his past, because you’d be lying to yourself, but you were of those kinds of persons who thought that everybody deserves a second chance. If you didn’t give them anything to believe in, how would they be believers?

“Did she…?” You intoned slowly driven by curiosity, now that Bucky seemed interested in starting a conversation either way. But you didn’t want to sound disrespectful.

“She used to sing for my sister and me”. You watched him keep his hands inside the pockets of his sweatpants, coming closer to you as he noticed you weren’t afraid of him.

“My mom did it too”. You replied then, showing him a fleeting smile curving up your lips.

As soon as Bucky witnessed the sweet gesture from you and the way you were continuing the conversation, he felt relaxed. He felt welcomed from the first time he stepped into the compound. You waved a hand towards him, urging him to sit down as you went back to your seat on the grass. He joined you without hesitation, cheered up inside for making a new friend.

You lost track of time talking about everything and anything at the same time. Talking about your families, discovering he had a sister called Rebecca. Talking to you about the old good times where Steve and he were just a couple of punk wreak havoc all around Brooklyn. You couldn’t stop laughing, showing him how excited you were to know more about him and his adventures. You told him about the farm where you used to live and how you built something like a training camp to prepare yourself to join S.H.I.E.L.D. Bucky was fascinated by your determination and perseverance, comparing you to Steve when he wanted to join the army, before being Captain America.

Inevitably, you yawned when the sunset was about to happen, earning a soft nudge from the soldier. “C’mon, you should rest”.

“Yeah, I’m pretty dead… drawbacks of being only human”.

He stood up before you, helping you to get up from the ground. You walked indoors keeping silent, not knowing actually how to say goodbye. It was an awkward situation that barely lasted two seconds.

“Listen, about before… I’d appreciate it if you don’t say anyt—”.

“Sure”. Bucky interrupted you. The gesture of his face suddenly changed to a sad grimace with a feigned smile on his lips. “You don’t have to worry about”.

“Good! Uh… thank you. I bet Stark will bully me about the singing thing all the time. He can be a pain in the ass sometimes”. You couldn’t help but sigh with relief when his blue eyes, placed on his boots, were raised with a special shine on them. There, you understood what he thought about your uncompleted petition. “And about… you know, talking, I wouldn’t mind repeating it anytime else”.

“Only if you sing for me”. Bucky’s voice was like a soft breeze caressing your face, filled with hope and enthusiasm. You tilted your head, narrowing your eyes towards him. “Will be our secret”.

“Okay, deal”. You chuckled nodding. “Good night, Bucky”.

“Good night, (Y/N)”.

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[themonotonysyndrome]

REDACTED verse - Those that stood above the rest

Summary: Everyone in D.A.M.N simp for the power couple at least a little bit - the Vampire Prince of Dahlia and the Electro Energetic. Gavin and the Freelancer would be lying if they said they haven't been watching them... respectfully. 

TW: [Swearing], [Profanity], [Explicit implications courtesy of Gavin, of course] & [Oblivious narrators]

Apologies for any grammatical or spelling errors because I wrote this the whole night and only edited it once. I’ll do the editing process again tomorrow morning.

-

Life as a student in D.A.M.N is nothing like regular colleges or universities. While the environment is hectic with exams, assignments and teachers with sticks up their asses - there's also a hint of craziness thrown into the mix. You can never really predict how your day would go here in the academy, and to most of the students, it's the typical college experience you'll get everywhere. Just... taken to the next level. 

That's what you get for a magical academy, after all. 

An Air Elemental would accidentally shatter the windows in a classroom with a powerful gust of wind on a random ass Tuesday because she was laughing too hard. A Graviton Energetic would sneeze, and suddenly, the gravity in the music room would stick the instruments on the ceilings. The entire soccer team would fall flat on the grassy field, snoozing because the Serenity Daemon playing as the Goalkeeper uses too much magic to calm their anxious Sweeper during his first play with the team. 

With so many Empowered creatures of all kinds attending D.A.M.N, there's never a dull moment. You learned that the moment a loud growl came from the Debate Club on your second week as a student. A Wolf Shifter had gotten into a heated argument with a Vampire about the toppings that should and shouldn't be on a pizza. 

So yeah, typical college life with magic thrown into your daily shenanigans. 

Today, you can't help but wonder what sort of excitement would occur as the large clock above the lecture hall ticks by, counting down the second before the class is over. 

You check the clock and sigh. Just ten more minutes to go, but it feels like time is creeping forward at such a snail-like pace. Tapping your pen on the open notebook laid before you rather irritability, you just want the lecturer to stop yammering already so you can grab lunch at the food truck parked outside of campus. 

Something gently knocks against your knuckle. You tilt your head to the side and meet with Damien's unamused stare; it looks like this is the third time he caught you losing focus in class. 

"I told you to grab a snack before class started." Damien whispers, mindful to keep his voice even so the lecturer won't catch them chatting. Sadism Daemons are scary when you piss them off, and the way the lecturer's eyes sweep through the students is more than enough to have them all shut the hell up the moment he begins their topic of the day. 

"I was meeting up with Lasko and we lost track of time." You hiss back. Yesterday you made a promise to catch up with the Air Elemental before your first class started to organise the date and invitations for the next game night. Once Lasko starts talking about the things he's comfortable with, he loses his stutter and launches into an animated one-sided conversation. You didn't have the heart to stop him, not when he looks so happy and cute. 

Buying that Arkham Horror board game was the right purchase to surprise him with. 

While your mind replays the morning you spend with Lasko, Damien rolls his eyes. "Of course you did. Here." He pushes his coffee cup towards you. His fingers linger on the cup for a few seconds to make sure that the coffee remains hot enough to drink. 

You grab the cup, grateful for his consideration, and take a big swing. The coffee settles pleasantly in your stomach as warmth spreads within your body. 

You're more a tea drinker - the classic Early Grey and Gunpowder Green - but at this instance, coffee would hopefully kick your focus back into gear. 

"Thanks, Damien." You said before passing the cup back to him. You peeked at his notebook and wasn't surprised to find that it's packed with notes written in different coloured pens. "Hey, want to grab lunch together after this?" 

Damien switched the yellow pen for a red one when the lecturer mentioned something about a topic for the upcoming test. You absentmindedly wondered if it's worth your life stealing his notebook. "Sure. What are you in the mood for?" He asked. 

Finally, the lecturer dismisses the class. Chatters erupt as students pack up while some scurry over to the podium to ask a few questions.

You lean against your seat to stretch your back; your notebooks and stationery are already in your school backpack. You're just waiting for Damien now. "I'm craving for a burger and some cheesy loaded fries with a boba tea." God, just thinking about it is already enough to make your mouth watered. 

Being a health nut, Damien throws you a judgemental look at your food choice as you two made your way towards the main campus entrance. He easily follows your lead through a crowd of students, and Damien even gently pulls you closer to his side when a student whizzes by on her skateboard. 

With so many people talking and laughing around you and Damien, you can't help but hear the conversations hovering around you. 

"...had class with them yesterday? Dude, you're so lucky! Did you sit beside them!?" 

"Are you fucking crazy? No! I sat two rows behind them, but it was enough to smell their perfume. God, they're so gorgeous - I couldn't focus the entire time!" 

"I've heard a few players from the Earth Elemental team tried to invite them to their party this weekend, but they were shot down. Apply cold water on burned area." 

"Well, duh. You can't just walk up to them like that! They're one of the hottest people in this academy."

"Yeah, but those players are in one of the most well-respected sports teams in all of Dahlia, and even they can't stand a chance against them!"

Students parted ways as you and Damien approached the gates. Rows of food trucks parked across the street with tables and chairs placed about. The conversations tapered off behind you, along with the hubbub of the academy. You have a pretty good idea of whom those students were talking about. It's been a topic surrounding the academy ever since the start of the new academic year. 

Even as an introvert who prefers to hover to your few but close group of friends, you couldn't escape the latest academy gossip.

"Finally, I thought my ears would've fallen off before we could escape," Damien mutters. It's a cloudy Wednesday; dark clouds are rolling above them with an occasional burst of strong breeze cutting through. "You'd think they would just give it a rest already." 

The food truck you and Damien stop by displays a menu with a wide variety of food and drinks. From burgers to pasta and desserts ranging from ice-creams to Thai banana pancakes, your stomach begins to growl. You place your order in a hurry, whereas Damien selects a hearty sandwich stuffed with juicy and tender slices of slow-smoked beef brisket with veggies of his choice and chipotle mayo in between two crusty loaves with a bottle of water. 

You and Damien grab your meals to sit at one of the vacant tables and enjoy lunch together. Good food and good company - what more could you ask for? Well, other than Damien's tsk-ing and wiping the barbecue sauce that smudged the corner of your cheek like the mother hen he constantly denies to be. 

"Can't you eat your food properly, Freelancer? You're getting your fingers dirty too. Give me your hand." Damien demanded halfway through his sandwich. You grin impishly and offer your left hand for Damien to wipe with some tissue while the other is holding a burger. The thick sauce begins to drip. 

Soon enough, a familiar voice shouts at them from across the street. 

"Yo, Damien! Freelancer! Are you guys, like, having lunch? Can I join!?" 

You can't help but beam and wave your hand (that was still holding the burger) high up when Huxley crosses over. Damien squawked with eyes wide in horror when the barbecue sauce got all over the table. He hurried to wipe the table clean while you greeted Huxley. 

"Hi, Huxley! Are you grabbing lunch too? Take a seat, man!" 

"Thanks a bunch, dude. It's been a while since I hung out with you two." 

"We literally had a class together two days ago." 

"Two days too long, Damien. I miss you guys." 

"Aww, that's super sweet of you, Hux!"

"Oh, for the love of - just go buy something already before the next class starts." 

Huxley happily gives Damien two thumbs up before grabbing his food and drink. When he returned to their table, he brought a tray of smoothie consisting of kale, spinach, banana, orange, and vanilla blended into green mush in a plastic cup and a plate of vegan quesadillas. 

The moment Huxley sat down, you took a sip of his drink and made a face. 

"Yeah, I ask them to hold back on the honey because I like the vanilla more," Huxley explains before tucking in. "Oh! But I can ask them to add more honey if you want. That’s like, totally cool." 

You quickly shake your head and clean your palate with your sweet boba tea. "It's cool, Hux. Just wanted to try a sip. You're really into these crazy healthy smoothies." 

"They're the bomb, dude. My Mums introduced a few recipes to me when I was a kid, and I basically hooked ever since." The Earth Elemental explains after gulping down a good chunk of the green goo. 

"Yeah, well, with the calories you burned up during practice, I guess you can't go wrong with smoothies," Damien added thoughtfully. His sandwich is all gone. He props an elbow on the table and cradles his face in one open palm. "Anyway, what's up, Huxley? Anything new happened?" 

"Nah, it's been nothing but the same shit lately. Classes, assignments and practices for the upcoming Elemental & Energetic Games - normal stuff. What about you guys?" 

"More or less the same." Damien replies, soundly ignoring your "We're hitting the tournament arc!" outburst. "Planning to organise a study group for the upcoming tests. I expect the two of you will be joining, by the way." 

At Damien's words, Huxley beams brighter. Any brighter, you'd need a pair of sunglasses. "For real, dude!? You're like, the best friend ever, Damien! C'mere - lemme give you a hug!" 

You snicker when despite Damien's frantic protest, Huxley shoot up from his chair and quickly hugs the Fire Elemental tightly before he has the chance to weasel away. 

Also, you didn't miss the chance to snap a quick picture of them to show Gavin tonight. 

Unaware of your phone, Damien grumbled when Huxley finally released him, and they sat down again. The three of you continue to chat about everything and anything. Soon, the topic shifts from tests to plans for the weekend. 

Huxley snapped his fingers when you mentioned Lasko's gaming night and the tabletop game you recently bought for him so they could all play together. 

"I totally forgot about the party! A few guys in my team are having a party this Saturday, and I want to invite you guys and Lasko. Oh! Gavin too! It's going to be a blast, and on Sunday, we can play that new board game."

You and Damien exchange a glance. "Sounds fun. Actually, we've heard about the party just now. How many people are your team members inviting?" You asked, curious. 

Huxley takes a moment to ponder before shrugging. He's nearly done with this food. "It's supposed to be just with a few close friends. Nothing too crazy, you know? After the last party that ended with fireworks exploding in someone's bedroom, they want to keep it lowkey." 

"Huh. Close friends, but they tried to invite a certain Energetic," Damien interjects. "What's up with that?" 

"You heard about that too?" Huxley replied, surprise coloured his tone. "Word travel like, super-fast around campus! It happened, like, yesterday morning!" 

Damien let out an annoyed groan and ran a palm down his face. "I think it's safe to say that everyone in this fucking academy is talking about it and nothing else. God, no matter where you go, you can't escape it." 

You pat Damien's arm in a comforting manner. "They're hot and popular; people will be talking about them until we all graduate." 

"And if it isn't them, people would be talking about their boyfriend," Huxley pointed out, stirring his smoothie languidly. Huxley smiles and offers it to you when you critically stare at it for a tad too long. Against your better judgement, you try again. 

Blek! It still tastes the same! Huxley just chuckles and finishes the rest of the smoothie while you seek solace with your boba tea again. 

"Besides, it's not often you see an Energetic and Vampire couple walking around," Huxley continued. "I think they're living together too. I mean, that's what I heard." 

"Don't tell me you also have a crush on them."  

Before Huxley could say anything, you tentatively raise your hand as if you guys are in class. Now you bear Damien's annoyed glance. "I was kinda hardcore crushing on them and their boyfriend before Gavin and I officially got together. They keep to themselves and their boyfriend most of the time, but they're super nice in classes." 

The Elemental and Energetic courses often have classes that intermingle every week. However, they're primarily compulsory lessons like magical history, laws regarding coverts and taxonomy of various Empowered creatures. 

So you're practically classmates with the hottest Electro Energetic in the academy and had even sat beside them a few times during class. Unlike many of the students who simp for them at a distance. 

The power couple of D.A.M.N is certainly interesting, to say the least. 

You narrowed your eyes at Damien when he refused to let up his disappointed stare. "Don't lie to me. You simp for them too." 

Damien huffs and crosses his arms. "Both of them look good, alright. Anyone with a working pair of eyes could tell from a mile away. They're gorgeous, and the Vampire is hot - so what?" 

"They're both super strong too." Huxley unknowingly throws more wood into the fire. 

By the time their lunch ended, Damien had demanded they talk about something else, so you jump into plans for the weekend. Party on Saturday and a gaming session on Sunday. 

Typical college life.

-

When the time on your phone displays 10.30 PM in glaring bright light and you're still on campus, you know what death feels like. 

It's quiet in the cafeteria, save for a small group of students huddled together around tables scattered in various places. Their heads are hunched down as they go over textbooks and assignments. One of the students happens to be a Vampire judging from the blood bag beside his laptop. 

A red swirly straw juts out of the bag, and for a brief moment of exhaustion, you entertain the image of the student sipping the blood bag as if it was a Capri Sun. 

Just like those students, the reason why you've stayed late in the academy's cafeteria is because of assignments. You know that if you bring your homework back home with you, you won't get any of it done. It's better to stay here and slough through them instead. 

Damien would scold and drag you home if he knew. Huxley would be sad and plead for you to rest, and Lasko would put on his guidance counsellor voice and advise you that a good night's sleep would help you think better. 

The boys mean well, and you love them for it, but you know yourself better than anyone. If you don't finish these assignments tonight, you would just procrastinate until the deadline punches you right in the face. 

You sigh and rub your temple in frustration. You've made good progress so far, but there's still a few left and you want to complete them all before going home. So you resume writing down the essay about the importance of convert and the Department on your laptop, fingers deftly flying all over the keyboard. 

Nighttime at D.A.M.N is not as busy as it is in the morning. The students that are going in and out of classes are mostly Vampires and nocturnal animal Shifters. The academy's faculties are also lesser in terms of numbers compared to their morning counterpart. 

Twice you've experienced the nightlife at D.A.M.N, and tonight would be your third. You wondered if Gavin is at home already. Hopefully, you can return to the apartment before him. Better wrap this up, then. 

The steady rhythm of your fingers on the keyboard and quiet discussion from the group of students slowly lull you to sleep. Hang in there just a little more! 

The sound of a Daemon Rifting into this world startles you awake. 

"Here you are, Deviant," Gavin said, his ordinarily seductive voice laced with conceal anger. Oh shit, you're in trouble now. "I thought we talked about this." 

You have no choice but to face him. Gavin looks devastatingly as sexy as ever; his black t-shirt snugly fits his body to the point that it showcases his biceps tastefully. A pair of dark blue jeans that he just so happens knows will get your heart racing and accompanied by a pair of shiny black Doc Martens boots. A rainbow-coloured bead bracelet is on his right wrist; a gift from Caelum. 

You would've swoon at the sight of him if you weren't seconds away from face planting on your laptop. 

So instead, you greet him with a, "Whaaa... Gavin?" You rub your eyes and blink at him. "W-What are you doing here? I thought you'd be - " You break out a yawn before sighing. "At home by now." 

"Funny. I thought the same thing about you but colour me surprised when Caelum reached out to me while I was grocery shopping — saying that you aren't home even when it's close to midnight." Gavin explains and tilts his head to the spread of books you have before you. "So, want to explain why you're at the campus cafeteria right now instead of in our bed?" 

The gears in your head are scrambling to come up with an excuse that's good enough to appease Gavin. So lost in your thoughts that you didn't hear the whispers coming from the nearby students. 

"That's the main boyfriend..." 

"Holy fuck, an Incubus? Damn, they're insatiable!" 

"How often do you think they have orgies? Twice a week?" 

" - collecting them like Pokemon!" 

Oh fuck it, you can't come up with anything decent. "I'm nearly done with my assignments, Gavin." You assured the worried Incubus. "Just need to write down a few more paragraphs..." 

Gavin is undeterred. "Freelancer, we talked about this. It's not healthy that you're making a habit of staying over at campus late at night because of assignments. You're going to burn out like this." 

Well yeah, you could feel your body is already seconds away from collapsing but like hell would you admit that to your boyfriend. It's been a long day and an even longer evening. It's a good thing that tomorrow's the weekend. 

Gavin startles you once more by leaning against the table and cupping your face in his large hands, so you're forced to look straight into his eyes. He's many things, but to those he deeply trusts and loves, his eyes would always betray the worry and concern he has for you and Caelum; even if his words aren't as forthcoming at times. "My stubborn, enticing Deviant... Are you being a brat again? Not listening to your Dom like you should be?" He purrs. 

All of a sudden, your throat suddenly feels like sandpaper, and your heart skips a beat at Gavin's tone. You're very familiar with that tone - it always promises punishment and pleasure mixed together until nothing else exists except for your boyfriend. 

But the question now is, how far can you actually push him. So with Gavin still refusing to release your face, you swallow and reply as nonchalantly as you can, "Oh, I don't know about enticing, Gavin. I-I mean, I've been running around campus the whole day. Probably have some barbecue sauce stain on my jacket and - Ow!" 

You puff out your cheeks when Gavin pinched them. 

"Are you purposely trying to test me, Freelancer? You know that just means more fun for me, and you tie up and helpless on the bed, right?" Gavin is all too happy to remind you, cocking one eyebrow at your impertinence. No doubt he already has your punishment in mind when the two of you are home. 

But you're not going to budge that easily. Sensing your stubbornness, Gavin lets you go and unleashes his ultimate move with a sigh. 

"I can see the Knots on you, Freelancer, and if I can see them, Caelum can too. I'm not covering your ass when he comes over for breakfast tomorrow and starts crying." 

You gasp and immediately recoil. "Low blow Gavin!" You counter, but you know that he speaks the truth. Your heart will literally break if you're the reason that Caelum cries. 

Gavin smirks when you switch off your laptop. He helps put your things away and offers a hand to you. With a small smile, you let yourself be gently pulled up by him and sling your backpack over a shoulder. 

"Are you hungry?" Gavin asked as the two of you stepped into the large hallway, hand-in-hand. "I didn't manage to make anything when I put the groceries away, but I can whip something up real quick when we get home." 

It's a sweet gesture, and you made sure that he knows how much you appreciate it by squeezing his hand. Ever since you two started living together, Gavin is determined to feed you properly. According to him, it's only fitting since you've constantly been feeding him too. "I'm more sleepy than hungry." You reply after a yawn. "I'll just eat a big breakfast tomorrow." 

"I'll hold you to it. Also, look alive, Deviant. Hottie approaching at 12 O'clock." 

That got your attention immediately, and snapped your eyes forward. Your jaw would've dropped if it weren't for Gavin lightly nudging your side when you saw who was walking towards the two of you. 

It's them — the Electro Energetic that became the talk around campus. 

They're as breathtaking as ever, even after a whole day of classes and club activities. Not a single hair out of place and clothes unruffled. Their body language stood out to you; their gait is a little hesitant but friendly, while their eyes are kind. 

It's easy to see why so many people harbour crushes on them, and you've always been a sucker for cute faces. 

When they finally approach you, they pull out a pair of wireless white earbuds from their ears. That's when you hear intense music playing:

It's the Pumpkin Patch King 

With the corpse with the ring

And she'd fuck my best friend if I die here today...

"Um, hi. Good evening. I'm sorry for bothering you guys so late like this. Are you heading home?" They inquire tentatively. 

Gavin waits for you to take the lead. "Hey, man. Yeah, we kind of are, actually. Want us to walk you home?" You could feel how pleased Gavin is beside you. The offer just crosses your mind, and besides, it's not nice to walk alone this late at night. 

That's what you're telling yourself despite the small part in your brain whispered that walking them home would be a great step of getting to know them better. It's just a harmless crush anyway. 

Unfortunately, they decline the offer. "I'm waiting for someone, actually, but when I saw you, I wanted to talk for a bit." 

Your heart skips a beat for a second time tonight. They specifically sought you out? You? When they've never done so towards anyone before? 

"O-Oh," You embarrassingly squeak, clutching Gavin's hand tighter.

The Electro Energetic nod. They tilt their head like an indulged, curious cat and god, that simple gesture shouldn't look so hot. "I don't know if you notice me, but we share Covert Laws - "

If you notice them? If you notice them!? They have a stronger presence than the lecturers themselves! They radiate magic like thunderstorms - intimidating, powerful and commanding that you have no choice but to submit to it. 

Sitting beside them was an experience and a half! There's no way an Empowered creature could ignore them despite their quiet demeanour! 

" - and I was wondering if you would like to be partners for the final project this year? Um, I heard that you're really good in that class, and I promise to pull my weight with the research and - "

You don't know how to react. Is this really happening? One of the most popular students in the academy wanted to be your project partner? You thought this sort of situation only occurs in animes! 

"They'd love to." Gavin smoothly answers when you're too shocked to say anything. "It's always nice to make new friends after all. Especially with a walking wet dream such as yourself." Here, he purposely pauses to appraise the Electro Energetic. 

Just like his Freelancer, Gavin has heard all about this Empowered human and even basks in the delicious energy coming from the thoughts and emotions his partner has for them. As an Incubus and their boyfriend, it's hilarious that his Deviant thought he's not aware of their crush. It's cute. 

Hmm... it'll be nice if he and the Freelancer could invite the Energetic and their Vampire lover into their bed one of these days. Regardless if they've been Marked; honestly, that just made the couple as appealing as the biblical Forbidden Fruit. 

And besides, Gavin has a strong feeling that the Freelancer wouldn't oppose the idea. It'll be the perfect anniversary present for his Deviant. 

"...Was that supposed to be a compliment?" They ask warily. Oops, looks like he's coming on a little too strongly. Time to take it down a notch. 

"It's whatever you want it to be. Anyway, now that you guys are... partners, what say you get to know us better, hmm? My lover has been eager to be friends with you." Gavin explains. You whip your head at him incredulously. Is he seriously doing what you think he's doing!? "I'm Gavin, by the way. It's a pleasure to finally meet you." 

The Energetic look confused, and you can't blame them. You need to save them before Gavin proposes something as crazy as an orgy on your behalf! 

You laugh awkwardly, bringing their attention to you. "Right! Partners! I'd love to be yours - I-I mean, uh, for school stuff! Yeah! Can we exchange numbers?" 

"Smooth, Deviant." Gavin teases. Something caught his interest, not that you notice as you and the Energetic trade contact information. They compliment the cute picture you have as your Home Screen (it's a selfie shot of you and Gavin, Lasko, Damien and Huxley during the previous game night. It's a shame that Caelum couldn't appear), and in return, you ask where did they buy their sick phone cover. 

While they still feel like the human embodiment of a fierce thunderstorm, it's nice to have a casual conversation with them. They're thoughtful, kind and fun that you soon find yourself calming down a little. 

"Not to cut this riveting conversation short, but are you sure that you don't want us to walk you home? It's getting really late, and we're more than happy to have you crash at our place for the night." Gavin interjects with a seductive grin, eyes half-lidded. 

"Umm..." 

Whoa, what happened to being friendly, Gavin!? You shoot him a look; he's going to drive them away! 

"We have an extra guest room at our apartment." You hurried to explain. "So it's totally cool if your place is far away or something." 

Their hesitation melts to understanding. The last thing that you want is a misunderstanding between you two. 

"You guys are sweet, but I'll be alright. Actually, I'm about to leave the campus too. I'm just going to hang out at the cafeteria until he arrives." They said. You have a pretty good idea who 'he' is judging by their soft smile. 

Gavin, for some reason, amp up his game. With a smirk, he cajoles, "Since he hasn't shown up yet, how about you hang out with us for a bit? There's a bar not too far from here - "

You flinched, and Gavin automatically shuts up and pulls you close to his side when a Vampire appears behind the Electro Energetic. It was so sudden that his appearance was a blur at first. 

"Vincent? You're done with class already?" They blink. An arm snaked around their waist as the Vampire pulled his Mate close to his chest. The Energetic had to crane their head up slightly to look at him. 

He's as tall as Gavin. Dressed in a casual black coat that screams money with a dark grey shirt accompanied by a pair of black jeans and boots. His silver studs, rings and watch glimmer underneath the fluorescent lights. Everything about this man reminds you of a panther sizing up its prey. 

You gulped. He's currently glaring daggers at you and your boyfriend. You're itching to stutter out a, "This isn't what it looks like!" for some reason. 

Now, ever since you learned about the existence of magic and Empowered creatures, you did your best to be open-minded. Even that whole ordeal with Vega didn't stop you from reaching out to the various Daemons attending the academy. 

However, you haven't managed to befriend a Vampire due to their night classes, and even the few times you stay back like today, most of them are running back and forth through the hallways to catch their next lesson. 

So to be the target of a pissed off Vampire made you uncomfortable. You want to fidget, but Gavin's arm secured around you ease some of that tension. 

"Mm-hmm. I'm on break right now, so I can drive you back home. You done with that talk with your guidance counsellor?" The Vampire inquired, eyes still glued at you and Gavin. 

"All done. We lost track of time when we discussed next semester's timetable for the Energetic course and potential careers once we graduate." His lover explains, unaware of the displeasure rolling off like waves from their boyfriend. "I think I need some time to go over them again. It's a bit much to take in."

The Vampire hums in acknowledgement. "We can go through them together this weekend if you like, Lovely. Maybe we can ask Will for help since he's coming over on Saturday for dinner too." 

Oh, you suppose that's why they reject the Earth Elemental players' invitation to the party. 

But the Vampire wasn't done. He assesses you and Gavin with narrowed eyes as if you were stains on the bottom of his boots. What the hell? "By the way, are these guys bothering you?" 

A chill sweeps through you, sending goosebumps crawling on your skin at the sudden shift of tone. He was warm and affectionate when speaking to his lover, but now? It's colder than ice.

Gavin, whose smirk turns into a shit-eating grin, is utterly unfazed at the Vampire's hostility. In fact, you would go as far as to say that he's relishing it. "We're just keeping your gorgeous Mate company while they're waiting for you. I was just about to propose that we move the conversation to a bar so we could all get to know one another a lot more... intimately." 

Oh god, they're so fucked. You have no idea why your boyfriend is trying to start shit up, but you're too tired to deal with this drama. So again, you try to salvage the situation. 

"Just as friends!" You quickly butt in. "We decide to be partners for an assignment in Covert Laws, so hanging out at a bar sounds like a good idea as friends." You're sprouting bullshits at this point, but you hope it's enough to save both of your asses. You also made sure to emphasise the word 'friends'. 

The Vampire quickly looks at the Energetic for confirmation, and they readily nod. His aggressive body posture relaxes somewhat, but he's still wary of you and Gavin. 

Maybe this is the best time to introduce yourself to him. 

"Uh, it's a little silly that we didn't introduce ourselves right away, but I'm a Freelancer." You mutter out rather awkwardly. Should you offer a hand to him? 

Gavin saves you from doing so. "And I���m their boyfriend, Gavin. An Incubus." 

"...Vincent Solaire." The Vampire - Vincent - reluctantly replies. 

Wait - his surname sounds familiar, though. You think you heard it in one of the classes about the supernatural factions in Dahlia... It's on the tip of your tongue... 

"Oh, we've heard all about you, Your Highness." Gavin slyly quips. "You and your lover are quite the celebrities around here." 

Holy shit. Solaire! The most powerful Vampire clan in the city! You remember now; the King has two progeny - A Vampire Princess & Prince. You didn't expect the Energetic boyfriend to be the Prince himself! What a twist! 

"Celebrities?" The Energetic - Lovely, as Vincent calls them - pipes up in confusion. The way their eyebrows furrow is adorable, but you wisely keep that to yourself. 

They really are a mesmerising couple. You detect the perfume that lingers around Lovely is sweet and misty. It's calming yet so light that it dances just out of your reach; like a coy lover. Slowly driving you mad with desire. Vincent's cologne reminds you of husk and cedar. Subtle, but once you catch a whiff of it, it'll stay within your mind for hours on end. Wondering if that particular scent will ever return - like the perfect one night stand. 

It says a lot about the couple. 

"We haven't done anything wrong." Vincent Solaire stated, voice as hard as steel. "I don't know why you're trying to rile us up, Incubus, but I don't appreciate you and your lover hitting on my Mate when I made it clear that I Mark them." 

Ooooh, he's jealous! Wait - did you come across as flirty to him!? Did Gavin purposely flirt with Lovely to make Vincent jealous? You've completely lost the plot. 

"Consider it as an act of public service," Gavin answers, easily brushing off the Vampire Prince's irritability. "Besides, how can I not when you both are half of the student body's recent fantasies." 

Lovely 'eeped' when Vincent bare his fangs at your boyfriend. "Back off, Gavin. Lovely is mine. Not yours or the Freelancer's." 

Whoa, whoa! A severe misunderstanding is boiling here! No one is stealing Lovely away from him! 

Fortunately, Lovely has gotten tired of the conversation. With a put-out sigh, they pat the arm around their waist to capture Vincent's attention. It worked. "No one is stealing the other's partner, Vince. It's all good; chill. You know you're the only one for me, right?" Here, they peck his cheek. "When did you get so possessive?" 

Vincent grumbled but didn't explain himself, so Lovely just shook their head. 

"Anyway, we better get going before Vincent's next class starts. It was nice meeting you two. I'll text you soon so we can plan on how to tackle that project." 

You give a shaky smile and a thumbs up. "Looking forward to it." 

Immediately after you said that, Vincent bares his fangs to you next. Oh my god, this guy needs to fucking relax! 

"We're going! We're going! C'mon, Vincent. You're driving me home. Now." 

And with that, you watch as Lovely drags the Vampire Prince to the parking lot. It's a strange yet comical sight. You only sigh in relief when they're out of your view. 

"I thought I saw my life flashing before my eyes!" You complain. Those were the single most stressful moments that you’ve encountered— second to Vega invading your home. 

"I think that went well, Deviant." Gavin objected, very pleased with himself. "He's pissed now, but he and his Mate will be thanking us soon." 

So you were right; Gavin purposely flirted with Lovely just to rile Vincent up, and for what? Possessive, sexy time later tonight? Oh, whatever. That's enough drama for one night; you seriously just need to pass out now. 

And with that, the two of you head home without realising your interactions with the power couple of D.A.M.N didn't go by unnoticed by the several students who were hovering close. 

-

"Are you hurting anywhere, Lovely?" 

"I'm alright, Vincent. The hickeys and bruises are healing nicely; my body still feels a bit sore but not enough to cripple me, so stop hovering near the door." 

Vincent guilty did as he’s told and takes a seat on the corner of the bed. He watches you apply some light makeup on your face and neck in front of the vanity table as you're getting ready to head out to the academy. Your outfit compliments your look and, most importantly, hides any patches of skin except for your hands. 

Vincent really went all out last weekend after his night classes ended. It's obvious that Gavin unleashed something within your lover, and you will freely admit that an unrestrained Vincent makes for a very fun and wild night. 

The moment Will came over and realised that Vincent re-Mark you an hour before he arrives, he graciously decided to take a rain check and promise to have dinner with the two of you some other time. 

Once Vincent gets it out of his system, he teased before leaving you gobsmacked and Vincent a blushing mess. 

"You know, your guidance counsellor wouldn't mind if you're absent from classes today, Lovely. Probably." Vincent tries; a part of him doesn't want his Lovely to attend their lessons while their body is still healing. Then again, that part also whispers that the Incubus and his lover would be around them without his supervision. 

Nope. No. Bad Vincent. Lovely is more than capable of taking care of themselves. They don't need him acting like a jealous, clingy boyfriend. 

However, something that the Incubus bothered him. 

"You and your lover are quite the celebrities around here." 

What did he mean by that? He and Lovely had been playing good students the entire time they've been on campus! Their assignments are always delivered on time, grades nothing but above average, and they keep to themselves to avoid any typical college dramas.  

Is it because of his status? For some reason, Vincent feels like it's more complicated than that. What a headache. 

"Maybe, but I did promise the Freelancer that I’ll catch up with them to discuss our project," You commented and spritz your favourite perfume on your wrists and neck. You love this scent, despite it being cheap and common. "Vincent, honey, you're making that face again." 

"It's my face, Lovely." 

"Yeah, well, you have your happy-snappy-neck face again, Vincent." You dryly point out before sitting beside the Vampire. "Did that Incubus really rub you the wrong way?" Your voice is gentle. You didn't get any bad vibes coming from Gavin and the Freelancer - just genuine, harmless, friendly flirting. In a way, you welcome it as their attempts helped you drive your anxiety away. 

God, walking up to them was hard enough. You always feel a little intimidated whenever you're around charismatic people. 

"I don't know... I thought they were making you nervous, and the words that kept coming out of that Daemon's mouth? He knew what he was doing; I just can't figure out what or why." Vincent admits, frustrated. 

Seeing him look so frustrated saddens you, so you propose a suggestion. "How about this, I'll ask the Freelancer what that whole thing on Friday was all about, and if it's anything gross, I'll give you a call so you can deal with them. How's that?" 

It assured Vincent. Seeing his tiny smile urge you to peppered his face with kisses until he laughs. With your boyfriend now properly appeased, you leave the apartment for D.A.M.N. 

It's a bright Monday morning. You hope that this week will be a little kinder to you than the previous one. However, the moment you arrived on campus, everyone was glancing at you curiously. When you made eye contact with the stares, the students couldn't walk away fast enough. 

Weird. 

Your first class of the day is on the second floor, so you didn't waste any time heading for the stairs. Students mingle around as they go about their day; some grab breakfast at the convenient store, while others chat with their friends at the cafeteria and lounge room. A Water Elemental is performing simple tricks at the marble fountain to an adoring crowd.

Just as you rounded a corner, the crowd parted ways with a subtlety of a serial killer in slasher movies, which is to say, absolutely none whatsoever to reveal your new friend. The Freelancer is flanked by their boyfriend, Gavin, on the left and on their right, the famous player in the Earth Elemental team Huxley and one of the academy's guidance counsellors, Lasko. 

You couldn't help but notice that everyone is giving them a wide berth. Not that it matters when Gavin's body is positioned to shield the Freelancer from bumping into any of the passing students. Huxley passes a bottle of orange juice to them while Lasko is staring at something behind the Freelancer. He mutters something under his breath.  

A loud voice suddenly bounces off the walls. "What happened to my water tumbler, Freelancer!?" 

You and every other student in the area watch as the Freelancer turns around and loudly replies, "Don't worry! I already got you a new tumbler, Damien! It looks exactly like your old one. Except it's pastel pink with kittens on it, and the shape looks like a really fat snowman with bunny ears for straws." To make a point, the Freelancer rummage inside of their backpack and proudly present the weirdest looking water tumbler you had ever seen in your life to their boys. 

"AAAAAHHHHH!" 

"You know you could at least see it before you judge it, Damien." The Freelancer grumbled and shoved the tumbler back. Huxley gently pats their shoulder in a comforting manner. Lasko laughs nervously while Gavin continues to protect his lover silently, all the while looking at ease. 

Everyone knows of the Freelancer and their boyfriends. They're the most popular group in D.A.M.N for a reason. Friendly, yet no one can be a part of their group due to the tight bond they have with one another.

The Freelancer is quickly shaping up to be a remarkable magical individual in their own right, marching to the beat of their own drums rather than the world's. Unwaveringly kind and friendly, constantly making sure the people around them are comfortable and safe. 

In terms of academic performance, Damien remains unchallenged among his peers. Everyone could tell that he would undoubtedly change their world for the better the moment he graduates, especially in governing. He's also known for his fiery temper, yet that fire becomes a hearth when it comes to the Freelancer. More than once, students have stumbled upon them huddled close in the library, softly discussing the future they wanted. 

If Damien is known for his academic excellence, then Huxley is famous for his prowess in the field. His mastery over his element made the younger Earth Elementals look up to him as their role model while his teammates view him as their ace. Charming, cheerful yet a bit absentminded at times, and even then, you can't help but be fond of him. You can find the Freelancer cheering him from the bleachers during his matches, and once Huxley won the game, he would immediately launch himself at them. Sweats, dirt and grass all over him, but the Freelancer would laugh as he hoisted them up in his embrace. 

Lasko is an odd addition to their group, but once he drops his stuttering, he shows just how capable he is as one of the academy's guidance counsellors. Acknowledged as one of the most powerful Air Elemental of his generation, Lasko is well on track to graduate D.A.M.N with honours, and while the future might be uncertain, students like to speculate that he will remain with the Freelancer and the others no matter what. Sometimes you can even catch a glimpse of them hanging out at one of the local cafes and see how bright and alive Lasko can be when around the Freelancer. 

Gavin came with a mystery trailing his saunter. See, no one knew how exactly he and the Freelancer first met. Speculations range from a cute, accidental meet up in a random convenience store to the Incubus boldly inviting them into a threesome when the Freelancer stumbled upon him mid-feeding. Lovely wonders if there's a betting pool going around the academy. The seniors would recognise Gavin, for he was their peer before he suddenly dropped out and vanished for a while. But judging by his frequent presence around the Freelancer, some say that he's looking forward to retaking his previous course. But whatever the reason may be, no one can deny the chemistry he has with the Freelancer. How fiercely protective he is of them when the Freelancer isn't looking. 

They're certainly an intriguing group, that's for sure. 

And when Gavin notices you were watching them, he winks at you. No doubt as an Incubus, he could scent what you and Vincent had been up to the entire weekend. 

That's what you get for a magical academy, after all. 

-

PS: Everyone in D.A.M.N (including Lovely & Vincent) hilariously assumes that the Freelancer is in a poly relationship with Gavin, Damien, Lasko & Huxley when in reality, they're just with Gavin. BBBBuuuttt... Gavin could detect the romantic/lustful feelings the other bois harbour for the Freelancer but kept it to himself for now. He's just waiting for the Freelancer to feel the same way so he could give them all The Talk™ and then go buy a bigger bed!

Anyway, I seriously had a lot of fun writing for this oneshot! It's been a while since I had that writing fever again so I hope you guys enjoyed it!

[harrypotter-imaginess]

Part 1 Here!

A/N: I’ve been writing this since March, and finally wrapped it up. Slightly NSFW, and apartment scene is inspired by Lore Olympus by Rachel S. 

- You’ve been dating for 2 or 3 months.

- You do it basically every chance you get

- You moan as he pushes you up against the wall, trailing kisses down your neck, sucking at your collarbone

- “Dra-Draco please” you mumble into his shoulder

- “When do you have to be back at work?” He asks between kisses, piercing grey eyes peering into yours

- He never seems to lose his composure, not even during sex

- Which of course only makes you more flustered

- The first time, it had been fairly dark

- But over the past few months you’ve been with him so often you’ve got a very good idea of what his body looks like

- Toned arms, a firm outline on his abs, pale skin blooming with the hickeys you’ve left

- Not to even get started on that face

- No wonder you couldn’t keep your hands off of him

- He bites your collarbone and you yelp, only to be met with a raised eyebrow in return

- You feel your face grow hot, you were so busy admiring him, you forgot to answer his question

- “H-half an hour I think” you mumble.

- He frowns, that’s not as much time as he’d like

- “I guess you’re going to be late” he mumbles against your skin, his hand making quick work of your blouse

- You’ve got this glow, and everyone has noticed

- “Hey! Took a long lunch today?”

- You feel your face growing warm, your hand moving over the new hickey forming on your neck

- “Just lost track of time” you say with a laugh

- You haven’t told anyone at work about you and Draco because of his popularity in your office

- “Hey (Y/N)! Come over and look! The hot guys walking by our office again!”

- Draco’s got a scowl on his face, thin, pale eyebrows practically pressed together. His eyes hold a fierce glare.

- God, you haven’t seen that expression on him in months

- You had completely forgotten that you both hated each other at first

- You catch a glimpse of his soft, pale hair, falling against his eyes. A gloved hand moves to push it aside.

- A hand that had been somewhere rather intimate only a handful of minutes ago.

- Draco’s never been happier in his entire life

- Even his employees have noticed

- “Is it just me, or does Mr. Malfoy seem more chill than usual?”

- “Yesterday That part timer, Natalia, spilled coffee all over his coat. He didn’t even blink, just said ‘these things happen’, usually he’d sack her on the spot!”

- “Maybe he finally got laid”

- They both laugh at that, while Reginald is practically sweating buckets at his desk behind them

- Little do they know they’re spot on.

- Ever since Draco started seeing you, he’s constantly come to Reginald for advice on “navigating the muggle world”

- “The traps of the muggle world are terrifying” Draco had said with a shiver. “Y’know she wanted me to use one of these?”

- Draco pulls out a condom

- “I mean what even is this? A sweet? It tastes just like plastic”

- Reginald’s not sure what’s more embarrassing, that his boss tried to eat a condom, or that he had to spend an hour and half explaining what a condom was to him, and how to use one.

- “So you can shag as much as you want with these, and nothing happens?” Draco says with a face of sheer amazement.

- Reginald has to remind himself to be empathetic. He’s lucky his parents are muggles, and generally very open minded.

- It’s not surprising Draco doesn’t know anything. The wizard world’s typical propaganda encourages procreation to increase the wizard population.

- The truly desperate can drink a potion or cast a charm, but Reginald’s sure something of that sort is never discussed in pureblood familys.

- “Muggles are pretty brilliant aren’t they?” Draco’s staring at the small plastic square in his palm, with true wonder.

- Reginald can’t help but smile, he looks like a kid that just discovered sweets

- “They are”

- Draco’s feeling pretty good, he’s got your favorite take out in one hand, flowers in the other, and a smile on his face

- He’s got someone he loves, he knows what condoms are, he’s on top of the world

- “Draco, how come I’ve never been to your place?”

- Happiness is fleeting, and reality is a lie

- He’s just set down the take out on your dining table, watching you sitting on the edge of the sofa

- You’re only a few feet away from him, but you feel an ocean away

- Well, he can hardly tell you that he still lives with his parents and that they despise Muggles and would probably curse you before you could even make a sound

- His mouth opens, brain scrambling to find an excuse

- He’s going to go with “he lives at his parents estate” when he actually looks at you

- You’re not looking to him, waiting for an explanation. You’re looking at your hands, eyebrows creased together and teeth nibbling into the flesh of your lip.

- He places a hand under your chin, nudging your face to look up at him.

- “Is that really what you’re worried about?”

- It’s not

- You were too much of a coward, and chickened out asking him your initial question

- You hadn’t thought of it before today, when all the women in your office crowded around the window to look at him

- He must have women throwing themselves at his feet

- You were together so often, you doubted he had the time to have anyone else.

- But you never had dates at his place, always yours

- In fact, you had never visited his place

- He could have an entirely different life than what you imagined, and this relationship, the blossoming feelings inside of you could just be in your head.

- Well, you’re only half right. Draco does have a whole other life, but not like you think

- “It’s just- what are we?” Biting on your lip, mustering up every ounce of courage you have you add “...are we dating?”

- Or are you both just f*cking

- He’s taken aback that this is what you want to ask, and honestly he’s a bit annoyed

- In his mind he’s already given up so many things to be here with you now

- His pride, his family, his heritage, he’s even ready to give up magic if it comes to it

- It’s all so obvious to him, that he doesn’t realize it’s all in his mind, he hasn’t conveyed any of this to you

- A softer expression moves across his face, as he takes you in, your gaze lingering on your hands. 

- Of course you’re confused

- He kneels beside you on the ground, his fingers wrapping around your hand

- “Of course we’re dating, you’re my (girlfriend/boyfriend), my lover, my significant other, my partner” each title is pronounced by a soft kiss on your knuckles. He peers up at you through his eyelashes, taking in your flushed face

- You’re his entire future

- “How do you feel about me?” He asks, his breath held in his throat as he watches you carefully

- He’s only now realizing that much of your relationship has existed in his mind

- The thought that perhaps you don’t see your relationship as anything long term only occurs after the words leave his mouth.

- You’re flushed hiding your face in your large sweater

- It’s hard for you to be honest with your wants and needs, especially in relationships

- “I want you to be my boyfriend” you mumble, and he squeezes your hand

- The words take courage you didn’t know you had, but Draco’s grin is worth it.

- He places kisses on your hand, then your face, and finally your lips. You feel his smile, and can’t help but smile as well.

- Then his kisses trail to your neck

- “Draco... the food will get cold...” you murmur, but your hand creeps under his shirt.

- “It’s fine,” he mumbles against your neck. “Gives me an excuse to invite you to my place for a proper meal next time”

- Cue to the next day, with Draco sitting across from his mother in their home. She’s flipping through a book with her wand.

- “I want a flat!” He practically shrieks out, Narcissa doesn’t even look up

- “To own, or rent?”

- Crap. He didn’t think this far ahead, he didn’t really think the words would actually come out. But he promised you a date at his place, and he can’t exactly bring you to the manor now can he?

- Besides, possible hexes and curses aside, his parents being here would definitely kill the mood

- “Rent, I guess. It’s just hard commuting to the office from home.”

- He half expects his mother to tell him to quit then, not like he needs the salary anyway. They have plenty of money.

- But instead, she says:

- “Fine, I’ll tell your father to contact our real estate connection.”

- Draco lets out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, about ready to walk away, his mother looks up from her book for the first time

- “And Draco,” He meets her gaze, stopping midway from exiting “do bring them home sometime.”

- He’s attempting to play dumb when his mother adds

- “And make sure to cover up the marks on your neck before you see your Father. You know how he is.”

- Draco just nods, feeling the heat creep into his face.

- Apartment hunting is surprisingly stressful. Partially because of how little he understands the muggle world.

- “This is the electrical closet, it stays locked.”

- Muggles. Don’t they realize he can just use a quick ‘alohomora’ to open it.

- When the realtor isn’t looking, he opens it, takes in the air conditioning unit and the wires, and promptly closes it again

- The muggle world is truly terrifying

- He ends up choosing a flat a few streets away from yours, in a posh upscale building. Naturally he lives in the penthouse. 

- He considered moving into the same building, but decides against it

- He has to remind himself that even though he plans on marrying you, he has to play it cool.

- From your perspective you’re a new couple that’s still falling in love

- He hates his apartment, he doesn’t understand how anything works, he has to cook all his meals himself, and he didn’t realize how much cleaning went into living without servants

- He has a newfound respect for house elves as he scrubs pasta sauce off of the ceiling

- In addition, none of the appliances in this place are enchanted, which means he has to actually use his hands to turn on the water or open the refrigerator

- He hates it

- “Wow, I considered this building too, but it was pretty expensive” you say as he helps you out of your coat

- You wonder if the reason he never invited you over was because he was trying to hide the fact that he came from money

- Not like it was a secret, what with the clothes and the restaurants he took you to, he was either rich or close to bankruptcy

- Draco’s just hoping you haven’t figured out he only moved in a week ago

- Thankfully the red sauce stains on the ceiling and Draco’s inability to clean very well thoroughly mislead you into believing this is a well lived in apartment

- Your eyes twinkle as you take in the incredible view from the large panel window in his living room

- “The views absolutely bewitching” you murmur with a smile, enchanted as you gaze at the twinkling lights of London

- He watches you, watching the lights. You look like you’re almost glowing, your form wrapped by the scenery

- “You’re the one that’s bewitching” he murmurs, watching your grin

- Well he can manage for a bit longer

[kazuyumi1412]

[Previous Course]

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Little Chef

[Course 2]

As she combined the butter-flour mixture in the pan, Amber couldn’t help but think of Noah again. She never got an answer about what he was, and there were still so many questions that she had for him even before she accidentally scared him again.

‘Well, it’s not like I didn’t deserve it up to some point,’ she thought as she kept an eye on the roux forming in the pan. ‘I’m not going to be surprised if I don’t see him ever again after that little incident.’

She tried to keep her hopes up as best as she could as she made her cream stew. She’d already gotten everything else cooking in a pot on one of the back burners, so all she had left to do was make the béchamel sauce to combine it with. Having three or so pots on the stove seemed a bit hectic at first glance, but it wasn’t an unusual occurrence to her due to working in a restaurant. Amber slowly poured the heated milk into the roux once it was ready, making sure that it was fully combined before she added any more. She wasn’t going to make that mistake again.

“And…there,” she said to herself as she finished up. “Just need to add it to the stew.”

Amber grabbed a ladle from nearby, scooping some of the stew broth into the béchamel sauce before incorporating the sauce mixture back into the stew. She let it simmer a little bit longer before turning off the heat and letting it cool down a bit. Grabbing two small containers, she set them side-by-side and portioned out the stew, sealing the containers and putting them in her lunch bag afterwards.

‘I hope he likes it,” she thought.

She paused for a bit as she looked at her lunch bag. Amber fiddled with the zipper, thinking back…

“Be grateful that you get to eat on their dime. Otherwise, you wouldn’t get to eat at all!”

“A cheese sandwich again? You really can’t afford to get anything else, can you?”

She opened up her lunch bag again, staring at the two containers of cream stew.

“Eat your food, honey. People worked hard to get you this meal, and I’m sure that some people dream about being in your situation.”

Was it really alright for her to be enjoying a meal like that? If there were others that dreamed about being in her situation, then what made her so special to be there in the first place? Why her?

No, not the best time to contemplate why she’s there at that point in time. She needed to head to work.

Zipping up her lunch bag again, Amber got ready for work and headed out the door, lunch bag in hand.

Work was rather uneventful that day — well, as uneventful as working in a bustling restaurant kitchen could get — and Amber continued to do the finishing touches on her cleaning. She glanced over at the pantry’s lock, curious about how it’d been acting up prior to then. Walking up to it, she closely examined the lock.

Huh. Something’s inside of it.

She tried to shake whatever was inside out of the lock, but before she could do much of anything, she heard a noise coming from behind her.

“Noah?” Amber asked. “Is that you?”

“So you’re the one that made him fear for his life,” an unfamiliar voice chastised her. “Do you know how terrified we all were?”

“We all?” — she let go of the lock and looked around for the source of the voice — “So there are more of you? Whatever you are.”

“Don’t avoid the subject! Even if what Noah did was reckless as all get out, that’s no excuse for terrorizing him!”

“Look, I didn’t mean to scare him like that. Hell, we were both pretty terrified at the time. I thought I’d have to deal with another mouse infestation! I didn’t expect to see a little person-”

“Borrower,” They cut Amber off so quickly that she could barely process what they said.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“We’re not ‘little people’, even if we are small. We’re Borrowers.”

“Oh. Sorry about that.”

They didn’t reply for a bit. “Anyway, what do you want with Noah? You’ve already given him enough trouble.”

Amber rolled her eyes, quickly developing a snarky tone in her voice. “Well, sorry for wanting to make up for scaring the hell out of him. I thought that he’d appreciate something that wasn’t from the scrap pile.”

“We’re fine, thank you very much. We don’t need help from-” — they trailed off, and Amber could hear sounds coming from the direction of the dishwashing area — “Hey, get back here!”

Amber looked over towards the dish racks, seeing something climbing down from it. A spider? No, too big to be a spider, and if it was one, she’d have already gotten the broom and smacked it. She got a little closer, only to see Noah rappelling down from the rack. Unfortunately, she kind of spooked him in the process, as he lost his grip when he saw how close she was to him. Thankfully, Amber was able to catch him before he cracked his skull open like an egg.

“That was close,” she said, gently setting Noah down. “If I wasn’t fast enough… Well, let’s try not to think about that for now.” — she glanced up to where the hook attached to the rope was, which turned out to just be thread and a paper clip — “How long have you and that other guy been up there?”

“Just a few minutes,” Noah told her. “I wanted to see if anyone else was here.” — his voice reduced to a quiet mutter — “You said you wanted to see me again.”

She smiled a bit when she heard that. “I’m glad you kept your promise.” — she grabbed her lunch bag, which she had set aside earlier, and brought out the second container of cream stew — “I didn’t know if you’d like it or not, but I thought that some homemade stew would be better than just cheese and a cracker.”

His eyes seemed to sparkle when he saw the container, but quickly became nervous. “I-Is it alright? For me to have some?”

“Of course—!” — Amber quickly stopped herself, knowing that she was going to spook Noah if she kept being that loud — “I mean, of course you can. The same goes for your friend. I just need to warm it up first.”

“Like I was going to say, we don’t need help from human beans like you,” the other Borrower rudely told her. “We don’t need your charity.”

Amber tried so hard to contain her laughter, but it escaped in short, sporadic chuckles as she covered her mouth with one hand. Noah seemed puzzled, while Amber couldn’t tell what the other Borrower’s expression was like.

“It’s human beings, not human beans,” She corrected them through her giggle fit.

“Whatever!” they snapped back at her. “You’re still a human bean to me! And my mind’s not going to be changed about the charity either!”

“But she made it just for us, Cay,” Noah said, “and I know that you’re tired of eating scraps too.”

“Cay?” Amber asked, puzzled.

There wasn’t a reply from the other Borrower until they heard a rough sigh accompanied by quiet footsteps. They quickly slid down the rope that Noah had used earlier, slowing down just enough at the end to make as little noise as possible on the metal counter. They had a grey cloak that was similar to Noah’s, but it was a bit shorter on their body and had a hood sewn on it. The person hiding under the cloak, however, was a whole different story. They towered over Noah, though they were still only big enough to fit in Amber’s palm, and had piercing hazel eyes accompanying well-kept red hair. Even despite their size difference, Amber couldn’t help but feel unnerved when they glared at her.

“You better hope that I’m not going to regret revealing myself like this,” They told her.

“Anyway…um…this is my brother,” Noah introduced him. “His name’s Cain, but we all call him Cay.” — he turned to his brother — “And this is Amber. I forgot what the full thing was, but that’s what she asked me to call her.”

“It’s Ambrosia,” Amber noted. “So, is it just you two? Sibling-wise. I’m just curious.”

He looked over to his brother. “Well, there’s Able too, but he’s-”

“Sprained ankle,” Cain cut him off.

Amber winced. “Yikes. I hope he gets better.”

Cain let out a huff as he looked off to the side. In any case, Amber quickly went to reheat the stew that she had brought, getting the smallest spoons that she could for the two Borrowers, which happened to be the quarter teaspoons. She set the spoons next to them and presented the stew, with it still steaming a bit from reheating it.

“Careful,” she warned them beforehand, “it’s pretty hot.”

Both Cain and Noah were hesitant at first, but they eventually took a slight bit of the stew and tasted it. While Noah’s delighted reaction was plastered all over his face, Cain looked extremely neutral.

“So…?” Amber slowly asked them. “You like it?”

“It’s amazing!” Noah beamed as he quickly took another spoonful and ate it. “I’ve never tasted anything like this before! The chunks are a little big, though.”

“I’ll try to break it up a bit more next time, but even I’ve got limits for how small I can cut things.” — she looked over at Cain, who still looked neutral — “Not even a reaction? Huh.”

Cain quickly looked her in the eyes. “If you’re trying to make me jealous of your cooking, then you’ve definitely succeeded,” he remarked.

Noah chuckled at his brother’s remark, and the two of them kept eating. Granted, there was enough stew there to feed the two of them for a few days straight, but that was probably because Amber didn’t have any smaller Tupperware to use. Either way, she was glad that they were eating something that she knew wasn’t from the scrap heap that normal people called the trash.

“You know,” she noted, “I could always teach you how to cook. Probably not gigantic meals like this,” — she paused for a second — “well, gigantic compared to you…but still something to eat.”

“Hold on, let me get this straight,” Cain said, seeming rather suspicious of her. “You, a human bean or whatever you’re called, want to teach Borrowers like us how to cook?” — Amber nodded her head, though this seemed to make him more suspicious — “You know that we’re not supposed to interact with each other, right?”

“Well, we’re doing it right now, you rule breaker. Doesn’t make much of a difference.” — Cain stopped in his tracks, knowing that she had a point — “Anyway, I’ve got to get going, and you two should too. You can pop by tomorrow if you want.”

“I’d rather not, with Noah already being in trouble and all.” — he glanced at his brother — “It’d be best if we lay low.”

Amber knew that Cain had a point, so she let them finish up before they ran off into hiding again. Taking the teaspoons and Tupperware, she made sure to clean them before returning them to their proper places, taking the Tupperware back with her as she thought of some new recipes.

[duketectivecomics]

You might've answered this already and I just didn't find it, but one thing that always perplexed me about Duke was how old he was in comparison to the other Batkids. It's obvious he's younger than Dick and Babs, and I pretty sure he's younger than Jason and Cass, and older than Damian, but I cannot tell if he's meant to be Tim and Steph's ages, younger, or older. Could you help me?

You’re all kinds of good here, anon!!! I answered a similar ask abt the Order of Adoption but didn’t dive into specific ages on that post BECAUSE well they didn’t ask lmaooo but ALSO:

Comic ages are very fluid usually! While Years™️ might pass in the canon proper, or while time seems to slow to a crawl, having a character’s age outright stated is something that occurs very rarely for most characters, if at all!

Because it’s always much easier to have a floating age range to work and play around in! It’s easier to keep a character Perpetually 12 or 16 or 25 or mid-40s or- you get the idea. SO, with that in mind. Let’s do our Best to Break Down What Age Duke Might Be Currently A N D how it might interact with the Other Batkids!

(Warning for a Very Long Post, lots of issue citations, and a LOT of comics terminology regarding specific runs/events/continunity. I’m gonna try to keep it as clear/concise as possible ofc but plz keep these things in mind! If you’re not at least marginally familiar with Bat-Comics, you might find yourself feeling a little lost here!)

So from the Zero Year arc we see a common Trend that plays out pretty consistently with Batfam comics: a Life-Changing Event Occuring while the protag is Young™️.

(Batman (2011) #30)

With how Duke is drawn in these particular issues, and given the trends of the past, I’d place him in the 8-12 range. The historic precedent being ofc that that is the same range that canon usually places both Bruce and Dick at for their Tragedies™; the more benign reason being that he... just very much Looks to be drawn in that Range. He’s very clearly an Older/Prepubescent child here.

Fast Forward to his Next Appearance in the Endgame arc and-

(Batman (2011) #37)

He’s definitely older! He’s wiser! And he’s giving Batman a fistbump lmao. Again, no strict age given here BUT, since they condensed each Robin to a Year or Two tops with Bruce (its n52 and its fucked up is what it is), we can assume it’s been at least 4-5 since Zero Year (which would mean if we go off the age range I proposed for that year, then theoretically he could be anywhere from 12-16 here, and I think that tracks pretty well. Not Perfectly and Certainly Not so well with Pre52 continuity ofc, but I’ll talk about that later!)

In We Are Robin, while its not stated Directly In The Text, it IS given as an Informational Tidbit that Duke is 16 (specifically this can be found at the end of issue #4)! (Sweet sweet canon confirmation FINALLY)

We know that WAR takes place Fairly Soon after Endgame (almost immediately, give or take a month or two given that Duke’s been placed in a few foster homes at this point and has racked up Quite A File) now, again id like to remind y’all that while this is a NICE starting point to have, keep in mind that comics are fluid and this may be retconned slightly/ignored in later stories bc Keeping Duke 16-ish is in DC’s Best Interest at the moment. (Having Relatable Teen Characters afterall is a Good Marketing strategy™️. And the longer they can Keep them Young, the Better)

With that in mind let’s take a moment to Highlight the fact that Duke and Damian have crossed paths at this point AND the storylines that have occurred during this year that were meant to be in conjunction with one another!

Because Prior to Endgame, Damian had Died! And just a year (in real, meat-space time) before We Are Robin, he was resurrected and had begun his “Year of Atonement” in the Robin: Son of Batman maxiseries. Midway through both this series and WAR (and, we can assume, midway thru this “Year” for Damian) the Robin War begins/ends and we see at least one major Moment between these two boys who will soon call one another brothers:

(Robin War #2)

Given that R:SoB is followed up VERY quickly by Teen Titans Rebirth (in which Damian celebrates his 13th birthday), we can conclude that Damian would be 12 during this time (well, 12 and 1/2 to play it safe lmao). That being said, this Confirms about a 4yr gap between Duke and Damian! (One Batkid down at least! but he’s the key to the others so put a pin in him!)

As We Are Robin draws to its conclusion, DC was releasing another arc that would eventually flow into the Rebirth Era, by the end of which, Bruce would approach Duke with an Idea (which involves Bruce becoming Dukes temporary guardian & as he states Many Times “Trying Something New” with Duke).

And thus the Rebirth Era begins, and Duke began his Year of training (most directly encapsulated by the Cursed Wheel arc in the All-Star Batman run:

(All-Star Batman #1 (back-up story))

Bruce introduces Duke to a training regimen that Alfred has named “the Cursed Wheel”. It encompasses all the training Bruce and the other bats have undergone and condenses it down into color-coordinated segments that will take Duke a Year to Complete.

It can be assumed that by the End of this Year Duke will somehow miraculously still be 16, despite, again, an entire ass year passing.

There’s one story that takes place mid-year in All-Star Batman, and the Cursed Wheel is meant to be capped off by Duke’s first Official Day as the Signal (in the titular Batman & the Signal ofc) BUT, near as I can tell after this story, Dukes age is not brought up again. So until they DO bring it up either in Batman & the Outsiders or whatever future run Duke becomes involved in, we can assume DC will be working with the idea that he’s meant to be in that 16-18 range from here on out (ie still a minor).

But, dear anon, you might be saying “okay, that’s cool, but how does that relate to my question abt how he falls in with the other Bats?” You’ll have to be a little patient with me here, but I think I may have cracked the code!

Keep in mind I’m gonna be addressing both the Post-Crisis to Flashpoint Continuity (ie mid-80s to 2010 in comics history) and the N52-slash-Rebirth Era (2010-Today). Its generally agreed by fandom and DC alike that these points of rebooting &/or Major Events constitute the era of “Modern” comics, and that everything from the 80s-on might more or less be canon on some level, even if not All of it is.

(Plus, most of fandom usually likes to borrow elements from both eras and much more rarely from stories before it, SO-)

Lets do a quick rundown of how everyone who’s Closer to Duke’s Age, Relates to each other first, age-wise:

Given that Jason was 15 when he died, in A Lonely Place of Dying its established that Bruce had become increasingly reckless since his death, and by the end of the story, Tim has stepped in to fill Robin’s shoes (he states that he’s 13 during this story btw). Pretty soon after, Stephanie Brown is introduced & established to be about a year older than Tim (wish I could pin-point a specific issue BUT, i unfortunately haven’t read any Tim OR Steph-involved comics that predate No Man’s Land... Besides the aforementioned Lonely Place and Young Justice technically, but im working on remedying that soon!)

NOW, during the No Man’s Land event, Cassandra is introduced, and pretty soon into her Batgirl run, its revealed that she’s around the same age as Jason (or at least how old he Would Have Been, had he not died.) Now, given that Jay has an August bday and Cass has a January one, fandom sometimes likes to play around with the idea of one being older than the other (OR even speculating/placing them in an AU as twins/siblings, given that Lady Shiva (Cass’ mom) was a Possible Candidate to be Jason’s biological mother but that’s a Whole Other Thing i wont get into here.)

The point being, Cass, in this era of comics, IS slightly older than Tim and Steph. At Tim’s start as Robin, their ages could either line up like: Tim-13, Steph-14, Cass-15 (being a few months ‘behind’ Jay), then Jason at 15/16 (depending on how soon Tim filled the role after Jay died in April) OR Jason-15/16, Cass-16/17 (in this case she’d be a few months ‘ahead’ now instead)

So brief detour to talk New 52, however! Because Tim, Steph & Cass all got switched around from where DC originally left them prior to the reboot! Now I haven’t read much of them in this era, other than Batman & Robin: Eternal, so my Understanding of their current ages is Spotty at Best. The general consensus seems to be that while before N52, Stephanie had been attending her first year of College (& doing VERY WELL i might add), with the reboot she was set back a few years alongside Tim to a vague Late-Teen state (so 16-18-ish, instead of a Very Clearly Established 18/19). Cass is probably the worst off for this reboot, given that B&R:E basically constitutes her new origin for the new continuity, and does nothing to confirm her age (all I really know is that she’s a Vague Late-Teen too... Probably? Maybe?), given how much they infantilize her, and subsequently how fandom in turn has taken to infantilizing her too, theres a semi-popular fanon that places her Younger that Tim and Steph. And I, for one, propose that we ignore that bc its Weak Sauce my dudes.

Some fans chose to ignore N52 continuity due to this vagueness, and will stick to the ages established before the N52/Rebirth reboots. But its something to keep in mind regardless bc we’re all obviously going to pull from what’s most familiar to us!

But WHERE could we place Duke with regards to them, then? Because them being “Late Teens” is certainly much too vague to work with!

This is Where Damian is the key!

Because Damian is one of those rare exceptions to the Reboot Rule. His story flowed almost seamlessly over from before to after. While he was made a Robin at the age of 10, he continued to grow and learn even after the universe was being rewritten to suit the whims of DC editorial. 

If we choose to ignore how everyone else’s ages and origins were swapped around, and stick with the growth that was presented before the reboot, then we can draw some interesting conclusions!

Firstly, though Stephanie also had Died and subsequently Returned, she hadn’t lost much, if any time, from the Ordeal. At the start of her Batgirl run, she is enrolled at a Gotham university and making headway with a more firm foot in the Batfamily (even to the point that she and Damian spend a few issues bonding. At this point in time, Damian is definitely 11, and again, Steph can be assumed to be 18/19 during the course of her run. We’ll assume 18 for clarity’s sake.)

So, then when Damian is 11, now our line up is as Follows:

Dami - 11, Steph - 18, Tim - 17, Cass 19-21 (the range depending again, if you subscribe to Cass being either older/younger than Jason).

WHICH MEANS, If during Robin War Damian is 12 (and a half) THEN We’ve got an age line-up that Potentially looks Like This:

Dami -12(and 1/2), Duke - 16, Tim - 18, Steph - 19, Cass - 20-22 (And Obvsly Jason, Babs & Dick at their varying Older Ages than everyone here)

and im just now realizing i Didnt include Harper in this line-up, but thats bc she’d also throw a big wrench in all this.  I’d personally throw her in with being Steph’s age, but I’m pretty sure she was supposed to be either that, or between Steph and Cass (again, since its N52, i believe Cass was/is assumed to be Younger than Steph, but that contradicts the assumed following of pre52 canon that we have for the above line-up, obvsly, and so we ignore that lmao) 

All this to say, however, that canon and fandom is what you make of it, and if you want to wiggle these ages around a little, you’re more than allowed! God Knows i usually like to skew the Tim-Steph-Cass age group to be a tad older than this in my own fic writing, and I like to have Duke start as a Robin at 14/15 instead of 16, but that’s just bc I like the dynamic potential it could bring with them being Definitively Older that him, and thus in a more secure place to be Mentoring him right alongside Bruce & the others.

But you might see these age ranges and want to do something Different (say, making Tim, Steph, Cass, & Duke all the Same Age at 17 instead! And that very well tracks with how current comics kinda looks right now!) and you’re absolutely valid to do so! Because again, comic character’s ages are meant to be fluid, not fixed!

And at the end of the day, its all about wanting to see these teen heroes kick serious ass haha

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

But You Can Never Leave [Chapter 14: Fever]

A/N: I’ve written a lot of chapters for Tumblr, but this one was by far the hardest. Thank you for reading. 💜 

Chapter summary: Queen enjoys an American tradition, Y/N struggles to be optimistic, John offers distractions, Roger makes questionable decisions (what else is new).

This series is a work of fiction, and is (very) loosely inspired by real people and events. Absolutely no offense is meant to actual Queen or their families.

Song inspiration: Hotel California by The Eagles.

Chapter warnings: Language, accidental intense flirting, inconvenient erections, drugs, overdoses, near-death experiences, medical emergencies, hospital stuff, pregnancy, babies, miscarriage, drama, sexual references, do I even need to say angst...? Y’all already know.

Chapter list (and all my writing) available HERE

Taglist: @queen-turtle-boiii​ @loveandbeloved29​ @maggieroseevans​ @imnotvibingveryguccimrstark​ @im-an-adult-ish​ @queenlover05​ @someforeigntragedy​ @imtheinvisiblequeen​ @joemazzmatazz​ @seven-seas-of-ham-on-rhye​ @namelesslosers​ @inthegardensofourminds​ @deacyblues​ @youngpastafanmug​ @sleepretreat​ @hardyshoe​ @bramblesforbreakfast​ @sevenseasofcats​ @tensecondvacation​ @queen-crue​ @jennyggggrrr​ @madeinheavxn​ @whatgoeson-itslate​ @brianssixpence​ @simonedk​ @herewegoagainniall​ @stardust-killer-queen​ @anotheronewritesthedust1​ @pomjompish​ @writerxinthedark​ @culturefiendtrashqueen​

Please yell at me if I forget to tag you! 

It’s November 12th, 1977, and you’re six weeks pregnant.

“I can’t believe I’m going to be a grandmother!” Your mom is positively giddy, beaming ceaselessly, patting the back of Roger’s hand at least once every three minutes. I was right about this delightful English boy and my future gorgeous, doe-eyed grandchildren, that look says. Your parents either never saw any headlines, or—a possibility that seems increasingly conceivable—didn’t believe them.

“I know it’s early to announce,” you add nervously. “But we figured...you know, since we’re here now...and who knows when we’ll be back in Boston...”

“Oh, I’m so happy you told me!” your mother peals like a wind chime. “Here, have some more sweet potatoes, and some salmon too, they’re so good for the baby...have you thought about names yet?”

“Roger Junior,” Roger jokes.                                                        

“Freddie Junior,” Freddie offers with a flamboyant flourish of his hand; his fingernails are jet black with glinting flecks of silver.

“A few,” you tell your mother, rolling your eyes at Freddie. “But there’s still plenty of time to figure that out.” In truth, this whole having a baby thing still feels rather nebulous and untrustworthy, like it’s a dream you might wake up from, like it’s a desert mirage that will evaporate as soon as you stumble too close, parched and ravenous and aching for it. Roger slips his arm around your waist, and you don’t exactly dislike that; but it feels a little like a mirage too.

“We’re so happy,” he says, with a gentle wistfulness that is striking on him. Roger is happy, as happy as you’ve ever seen him. He drinks only in moderation. He does his physical therapy. He’s taken up meditation. He fucking meditates. He wants to get clean for the baby, for you, for this second chance at a future together. And you don’t entirely trust this—because everyone lies and everyone disappoints and everyone carries around mortal shadows in the marrow of their bones—but you are beginning to let it make you happy too.

“You’re next, Fred,” Brian says. “You’re the only one left. Come on, it’s your turn. Cough up an infant.”

Freddie cackles. “All my children have whiskers and tails and I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Your mother shoves a glass baking pan of sweet potato casserole, topped with a layer of gluey burned marshmallows, towards you. “Eat!” she commands.

You warily spoon yourself some, grimacing; you’re more or less constantly nauseous. Then you stare down at the heap of lumpy orange root vegetables that—to you, at least—contains a choking quantity of cinnamon. The sweet potato casserole stares menacingly back. John leans over and scoops himself a bite off your plate.

“Mmmmm!” he exclaims, to your mother’s delight. Then, more quietly to you: “Not to worry. I’ll help.”

“Everything is delicious, as always,” Brian tells your parents, ever well-mannered. “It’s always such a delight when work brings us to Boston. This was so kind of you!”

Your mom and dad wanted to treat Queen to the band’s first-ever American Thanksgiving dinner, even if actual Thanksgiving was still two weeks away; the table features a monstrous turkey with brown crispy skin, stuffing and mashed potatoes and gravy, homemade cranberry sauce, green beans almondine, ham, Atlantic salmon, buttered rolls, pumpkin pie, and of course the loathsome sweet potato casserole. You endeavor to taste at least one bite of everything, sipping sparkling apple cider cautiously, biting back waves of nausea that surface at random like breaching whales. The tablecloth is speckled with autumn leaves and inappropriately jolly cartoon turkeys. Your parents are glowing, proud, thrilled...although they’re visibly channeling effort into not being offended by the fact that Brian won’t try the turkey.

“It’s our pleasure, of course,” your father deflects as he puffs on a cigar. He’s mixed a drink for all of the non-pregnant attendees: Apple Cranberry Moscow Mules for everyone except John, who requested his usual Manhattan. “And you’ve timed it perfectly. There’s no better time to be in New England than the fall.”

“Oh, the foliage is just stunning, and the skies are so clear, you can see all the constellations!” Brian cranes his neck and points out the dining room window. “Look, there’s the winged horse Pegasus, and Cassiopeia, and Perseus...”

“The scenery is gorgeous! Creatively rousing!” Roger agrees.

“Oh, planning a Boston-inspired sequel, are we?” John quips. “I’m In Love With My Lobster Boat?”

“I’m In Love With My Revolutionary War Memorabilia?” Freddie suggests.

“Get a grip on my extremely unreliable and difficult to load musket...” John sings.

Freddie points his fork at him and grins. “Yours wouldn’t be so difficult, Deaky dear.”

“How long did those old muskets take to load?” Bri asks.

“About two minutes,” your father pipes cheerfully.

Freddie snorts. “Sounds about right.”

John bears the laughter with a good-natured, smug sort of smirk. I’m not bothered because I know I’ve got nothing to worry about, that look says. You wiggle your eyebrows at him. He winks back.

Roger groans as he stretches his hands up towards the ceiling. “Am I really expected to play after all this?! Jesus christ. I’ve gained a stone in the past hour. Alright, one more slice of pie, then we have to get going...”

Queen has reserved your parents front-row seats at the show, as well as a limo to shuttle them there and back. While your mother fusses over whether you’ve eaten enough and what appropriate rock concert attire is—“leather and feather boas and riding crops, darling” Freddie informs her—your father circles the table snapping photographs, first with your Canon and then with his own Polaroid. You and Roger pose together, lean into each other, plant giggling kisses on each other’s cheeks. And you marvel at how a photo is a snapshot, a split second, nothing less and nothing more; that it’s instantly and mechanically captured, impersonal even, cheap to print and easy to burn. As your mother begins gathering up plates and glasses, you stand to help her.

“No no no,” Roger says, wiping the crumbs from his chin with an orange napkin. “Not allowed, Boston babe. Sit down, I’ll do it, I’ll help clean up.”

“I want to,” you insist. “I feel better when I’m moving around.” Less likely to vomit into anyone’s sweet potato casserole.

“You sure?”  

“Absolutely.” You smile down at him fleetingly, ruffle his short bleached hair, then disappear into the kitchen.

Your mother is scrubbing plates in the bubble-filled sink, her hands turning pink under the hot water, humming Rhiannon in a bright merry voice. She’s wearing a sparkling crimson dress that reminds you of blood. Your stomach lists like a sailboat.  

“I’ll wash if you want to dry,” you offer.

“I raised such a kind girl. My beautiful daughter, a future mama. Mrs. Roger Meddows Taylor.” She twirls a lock of your hair affectionately, then steps aside so you can reach into the sink. “That John Deacon is a bit strange, isn’t he?”

You resist the reflex to bristle, to snap at her; it’s not her intention to be cruel. It never is. “No, not really. He’s wonderful, he’s a genius. He’s my best friend, actually.”

“Oh alright, dear. I’m sure he’s lovely enough. He’s just so terribly quiet. He fades away next to the others. And certainly next to Roger.” She sighs, infatuated, dazzled.  

You hear Roger’s voice echo in your skull: Watch out, baby. I get everything I want eventually.

Maybe he was right about that.

You’re trying to be happy, really you are; you’re trying to fall in love with this future Roger has planned for you. But you can’t shake the gnawing sensation that—somewhere along the way—your life stopped being written by you. You’re anxious all the time; you bite your lips until they bleed and wring your ringless hands and rarely sleep. You feel restless and ineffectual and nervy, like there’s some inescapable horror crouched behind every door you open, every page you turn. You feel the opposite of free.

Your mother notes casually, drying a china plate patterned with pink roses and edged with gold: “It must get difficult sometimes, having to share him with the world.”

You gaze into the nest of pearlescent bubbles that pop around your wrists like interrupted dreams, like broken promises. “You have no idea.”

~~~~~~~~~~

It’s December 21st, 1977, and you’re twelve weeks pregnant.

Blood trickles down your palm, the underside of your wrist, your velveteen-soft forearm. You hold the wad of gauze against the Scottish roadie’s pouring nose. What’s this one’s name? Nick? Nate? Niall? You’ve lost track. Whoever he is, he sustained an accidental elbow to the face as the crew was unloading the band’s luggage from the tour bus and is now slumped on the marble floor of the New Orleans Ritz-Carlton, splattered with drops of blood like the freckles sprayed across his pale cheeks. Giant red bows and Christmas trees trimmed with twinkling white lights rim the lobby.

“Alright, let’s take a look.” You lift the gauze away; the bleeding has slowed considerably. You gingerly probe the bridge of his nose as the roadie moans in pain.

“You trying to kill me, lady?” he jests.

You wrap an ice pack in fresh gauze and press it against his swollen face. “It’s not broken. Keep the ice on it, apply pressure, come get me if the bleeding doesn’t stop in ten minutes. Okay? You might have black eyes but you’re gonna be fine. You’ll look extra badass for the babes at the club.”

“Okay.” The roadie smiles gratefully. “Thanks, Florence Nightingale.”

You smirk up at Roger. “Did you have to teach them that?”

“You’ve cultivated quite the reputation, love.” He grins, takes a drag off his cigarette, glances around the lobby through his opaque prescription sunglasses. And you’re struck by how pertinent he looks here, in grand rooms with chandeliers and towering ceilings, in famed cities littered across the globe. He belongs in the spotlight. He belongs to the world. He doesn’t belong to just me, and he never will.

You reach for your duffel bag, but Roger yanks it away and slings it over his own shoulder.

“Will you please stop trying to lift heavy things?!” he pleads.

“I’m pregnant, I don’t have brittle bone disease.”

“Brittle bone disease!” Freddie cries, horrified. “Is that an actual ailment?!”

John snickers. “Yes, and it’s sexually transmitted, so watch where you stick your bone.”

“Oh, ha ha ha, you are hilarious!” Freddie says, rolling his large dark eyes. “Worry about your own performance, Mr. Misfire. Bri, you’ll join us for a drink tonight, won’t you?”

“Well...” Brian hesitates, and you suspect you know why. He’s been looking forward to this stop for months, Queen’s last in the States during the News Of The World tour; after two days in New Orleans the band will fly back to London, spend the holidays there, resume the tour with shows throughout Europe beginning in April. In just a few rotations of the Earth, Brian will be back at home with Chrissie and the twins. But tonight he has plans to see the girl he calls Peaches.

“You undependable poodle,” Freddie scolds. Then, saccharinely, batting his eyelashes: “But you’ll surely come along, won’t you Nurse Nightingale?”

“Fred...I hate to disappoint, but...”

“This is unacceptable!” he exclaims. “I am distraught! Not even an orgy with spicy Cajun men will lift my spirits!”

“I doubt that,” you reply, smiling. “I’m exhausted, Freddie. This making a kid business isn’t easy.”

“Oh, but you’re not too exhausted to cart around luggage like a fucking alpaca!” Roger massages your shoulders, enfolds the slight bump of your belly with his hands, lands a series of featherlight kisses down your neck. He’s still clean, he’s still effervescent, he’s continuously devoted in a way that is unusual for him, tender and sensitive, simultaneously ecstatic for the future and nostalgic for the past. “Want me to stay?”

“For fuck’s sake!” Freddie laments.

“That’s alright. John said I can help him wrap Christmas presents for Veronica and the kids. I’m learning how to be all maternal and domestic, isn’t that exciting?”

“I’d say you’re fairly effortlessly maternal,” Roger says, rather proudly. “Want me to bring you back anything?”

“No, I’m okay. I’ll send a roadie for chili cheese fries or something.”

“You can send them for lobster and filet mignon. Whatever you want.” He reaches into the pocket of his fitted black jeans and pulls out a small ring box.

“Roger...?”

He opens it, grinning, and taps an antique gold ring with a ruby stone into his calloused palm. “I found this at a shop in Miami. You remember the first time we were ever there? March of 1975. Hotel room with a view that looked out onto the beach, taking photos on the balcony with the ocean crashing behind you, feeding the seagulls chips until the bitches started attacking us.”

“I never forget.” And that’s true; there have been times you wish you could, but you don’t.

Roger takes your left hand and slips the ring onto your wedding finger. Then he lifts your knuckles to his lips, bites them gently, leaves faint burning indents in the flesh.

“I love it,” you breathe, turning your hand back and forth, watching the lights from the Christmas trees glimmer off the ruby. It feels real in a way that sharing a future with Roger hasn’t for a long time.

“Now don’t get all emotional over it. It doesn’t mean anything, you know.” Roger winks and lands a parting kiss on your forehead. Then he passes your duffel bag to a roadie, who vanishes with it into an elevator. “Deaks, you’ll take care of my girl?”

“I always do,” John replies.

“Have fun,” you tell Roger, beaming up at him. “But not too much fun.” This could work. This could really work.

Freddie crosses himself like one of Veronica’s Catholic great aunts. “Depravity? Us? Never in a million years, darling.” Then he hooks an arm around Roger and leads him towards the glass hotel doors. They’re engulfed by a crowd of Queen’s roadies, laughing and shoving each other playfully: Ratty Hince, Paul Prenter, Chris Taylor (dubbed Crystal by the band), Brian Spencer, John Harris, others whose names you haven’t committed to memory yet.

“You ready, Emily Post?” John asks, heading towards the nearest elevator, and you follow him.

In his hotel room is a messy stack of gifts accumulated over the past month and a half from tour stops all over the United States: tiny model Liberty Bells from Philadelphia, Yankees baseball caps from New York City, a slot machine that spits out gumballs from Las Vegas, red socks embroidered with the logo of—what else?—the Boston Red Sox, NASA astronaut action figures from Houston, teddy bears wearing Cubs t-shirts from Chicago, plushies from the Miami aquarium: a hammerhead shark for Laszlo, a dolphin for Anna, and an octopus for the newest Deacon due in mid-February. You and John sit on the floor together in a flurry of tubes of Christmas-themed wrapping paper, stick-on bows, name labels, greeting cards, and pens. John flips through the tv channels until he finds It’s A Wonderful Life. You send a roadie to get dinner from a New Orleans-based fast food chain called Popeyes, and you take leisurely breaks between gift wrapping to chomp on crispy chicken wings and biscuits and mini apple pies and to guzzle down towering cups of Southern-style sweet tea.

“Octopuses are gender-neutral, right?” John asks, floundering as he tries to wrap all eight tentacles individually.

“Totally.” You’ve been brainstorming how best to package the slot machine for fifteen minutes. You take another contemplative bite of a flaky biscuit. “These kids are gonna be super confused when it comes time to pick a favorite team for the World Series.”

“Well obviously they’ll have to be Boston fans or I’ll disown them.”

You sigh contently. “This is just too adorable. I want to wake up early on Christmas morning and open presents with some hyperactive children. Please adopt me into your family.”

“Done. You’re in.”

You laugh. “I don’t think Slavic Jesus thinks highly of polygamy.”

“Whoa whoa whoa, who said anything about a second wife? You can be the live-in nanny but also the filthy secret mistress. Take it or leave it. Final offer.”

“Alright, Mr. Misfire. But you’ll have to fuck me for at least slightly longer than two minutes.”

Oh god, I should not have said that.

John stares at you. You stare back. And something flies between you, something like a pop of static electricity or a firing neuron, something hot and lightning-quick. There’s blood flushing his cheeks, but it’s not quite embarrassment; you know because the same heat is swirling in yours.

Stop, you order yourself.

But it’s too late, now you’re thinking about it, what it would be like: what he would feel like, taste like. Not like wildfire, reckless and consuming, disaster nipping at its heels. Something different, something constant and dependable and soulful, something that feels like home anywhere in the world.

It wasn’t about me. It wasn’t about me. You’re My Best Friend wasn’t about me.

John grabs a sheet of crinkling wrapping paper patterned with chortling Santa Claus faces and drags it over his lap to conceal the sizable bulge growing there in his white pants. You pretend—unconvincingly, you’re sure—not to notice.

Finally, he chuckles uneasily. “However you want it.”

“I’m so sorry. That was wildly inappropriate. I’m hormonal and stupid.”

“I kind of like you hormonal and stupid.”

“Well don’t get used to it, this is a temporary condition.”

“You really can come over,” John says. “On Christmas morning. You and Roger can come over if you want to. The kids love you both. And honestly neither of them are old enough to remember this year anyway, so no pressure if you fuck up Christmas by being accidentally slutty or whatever.”

The smile ripples through the muscles of your face, uncoiling all the tension there. He really does make everything better. “Okay. But you have to promise to behave too.”

He shrugs coyly, lights a cigarette, watches you as he exhales smoke. “You’ve always said I have game.”

There are voices out in the hallway, uproarious laughter, the pounding of irregular footsteps, thumps against the walls. You can hear Freddie giggling: “Rog, darling, come on, get it together...!”

John furrows his brow at you. He doesn’t say anything, but you know that look. What John means is: Is he okay?

“I’m sure he’s fine,” you reply. He’s been fine all tour.

And then, more desperately: He HAS to be fine. Not just for me anymore.

“Rog?!” Freddie shrieks, and now the voices are louder, more numerous. There’s one massive thud. Someone screams for help.

You and John scramble to your feet. You snatch your kit off the dresser and bolt out into the hallway. Roger is sprawled on the floor in the center of a reeling crowd, unconscious, gasping for air, his skin a starved bluish. Freddie and Crystal are hovering over him, shouting and horrified.

“Oh my god,” John says.

“Call an ambulance,” you tell him, and John sprints back into his hotel room.

You shove Freddie and Crystal aside and kneel beside Roger, jostle him awake, pry open his eyes and shine your flashlight into them. His pupils are pinpricks. His breathing is shallow and uneven. You close your fingers around his right wrist; his skin is drenched with sweat. Roger’s pulse is erratic, fading.

“Roger, can you hear me?”

“Hey, baby,” he murmurs. Then he blacks out again.

“What did he take?” you pitch at Freddie.

Freddie and Crystal exchange a glance, hesitating.

“If you don’t tell me what it was he’s going to die, what did he take?!”

“He wasn’t in the same room as us,” Freddie says, his voice quaking. “We don’t know—”

“So you left him alone,” you seethe. “Of course you fucking did.”

Roger’s hand shoots up and seizes your shirt, twisting the fabric in his gnarled fingers. “Speedball,” he rasps. His vivid blue eyes—like bruises, like veins, like cold rain—are huge and bloodshot and frantic. He’s begging for his life. He’s begging you to save him. “The guy said it was a speedball.”

You know exactly what a speedball is; it’s your job to know things like that, to know all the chemical combinations that errant rock stars love destroying themselves with. “A speedball has heroin in it, Roger!”

“I can’t breathe,” he sighs dispassionately, as if it doesn’t bother him at all. His eyes are glassy now, unseeing.

“Don’t you fucking die on me!” You rake through your kit for the vial of Naloxone that you thought you’d never need. That’s not for bands like Queen, you remember thinking when the record company insisted you carry it. That’s for people like The Rolling Stones or Black Sabbath or maybe even Fleetwood Mac on a bad day, but not Queen. Not my boys. Not my Roger.

Oh, but has he ever really been mine?

You pull a syringe out of your kit, throw off the cap, and hold the vial of Naloxone upside down. You stab the needle through the rubber stopper and measure out 1cc—an entire syringe’s worth—of the drug that can reverse opioid overdoes. CAN, not will. It doesn’t always work.

Freddie is sobbing as Crystal drapes an arm over his shoulder and turns him away. So they don’t have to watch. So they don’t have to see him die.

You don’t have the luxury of not watching.

John is back. “What can I do?” he asks.

“Shake him. Keep him awake. Hit him if you have to.”

John kneels, cups Roger’s face in his hands, smacks his cheek each time Roger begins to nod off. Roger gazes up at him numbly, breathing in haphazard wheezes. “Stay with me, Rog. That’s it. Stay with me, you’re gonna be fine...”

You pinch a tiny roll of fat in Roger’s upper arm and jab the needle in. You push down the plunger and 1cc of Naloxone vanishes from the syringe barrel as it surges into Roger’s disordered bloodstream. You toss the syringe away and rub his arm as crimson blood beads from the injection wound.

“Come on, Roger,” you beg him. “Come on, Roger, please...”

You fill another syringe and inject it an inch below the first puncture mark. Roger’s eyes—those eyes that you’ve been trying to claw your way out of since you first saw them across a hospital room in the June of 1974—flutter closed. His sweated rib cage stills.

“Roger?!” John roars, shaking him. “Roger, Rog, wake up!”

“Roger!” you scream.

He sucks down a sudden breath—deep, clear, life-giving—and his intense blue eyes fly open.

“Oh thank god!” you cry, clutching your chest. “John, help me, help me get him up...”

Together with Fred and Crystal you drag Roger to his feet, force him to walk, parade him up and down the hallway until the paramedics arrive and ferry him away—still dazed and ghastly pale, still grasping for you and muttering things you don’t understand—and then your adrenaline rush evaporates and you crumble to the floor, one shaking hand covering your face, the other on the small swell of your belly.

I’m so sorry, little guy, little lady. You deserve better than us.

“I have to go after him,” you tell John when he reaches for you, trying to lift you off the floor. “I have to make sure he’s okay, the Naloxone, it could wear off before the heroin does, and it...it...it can stop an opioid overdose but speedballs have coke in them too and he could still have effects from that...”

“Okay, no problem, we can go, come on, we’ll get a cab and we’ll be right behind them.”

And you remember what Roger once told you as the planet rolled into 1975, under streetlights casting islands of luminance in an ocean of cold darkness: But I can promise you that your life will never feel like a cage. And isn’t that what this was all about for you anyway?

But Roger was wrong.

My life does feel like a cage. It feels exactly like a cage.

You sputter weakly: “He’s not, he isn’t, he can’t...”

“What?” John presses. “Slow down. Breathe. Tell me.”

“He’s never going to change, John,” you whisper. The weight of the ruby ring is heavy on your trembling left hand. “He’s never going to change.”

~~~~~~~~~~

It’s February 15th, 1978, and you’re nineteen weeks pregnant.

The kitchen phone rings, and you answer. The date for your twenty-week ultrasound is circled on the calendar in red ink. “Hello?”

“Do you need to get out of the house?” John asks. “Because I really need to get out of the house.”

You do, incidentally. Yesterday was Valentine’s Day, and Roger did everything right: a bouquet of pink roses and carnations waiting on the kitchen table when you woke up, a new Ferrari parked in the driveway, a candlelit dinner at Mon Plaisir. It was a little too right, actually, like Roger was trying to coax you into serenity, like he was proving how illogical it would be to consider ever being unhappy with him, like he was making up for something; and that’s how things feel a lot of the time, now that you think of it. Roger is fine, mostly. He’s home, usually. He’s clean until he isn’t, and then afterwards he’s so dazzlingly radiant and kind that you can’t stand the thought of not being there to help if he needs you, can’t remember your frustration or your anger half as much as your fear of losing him. And it’s incredible how good you’ve gotten at pushing the memory of that News Of The World headline out of your mind, like it was something from a soap opera or a cheap romance novel, like it was just a slice of scandalous fiction that happened to somebody else. That’s the way the body works too, isn’t it? Wounds close over, livers regenerate, old cells slough away and reveal fresh tissue beneath with no recollection of the pain that comes tangled up with all the other eventualities of existence. Times like Valentine’s Day are a revival, a resurrection: brand new cells, a healed fracture, a shot of Naloxone to restore the blood to equilibrium. But today is not Valentine’s Day, and Roger isn’t home. You aren’t entirely sure where he is, and you don’t know if you’d want to be. “Yeah, I’ll pick you up. I can show you my wicked new ride.”

“I’m intrigued. You’ll have to let me drive it one day.”

“What, directly into a cop car?”

“You’re awful and I hate you,” John says, and you can hear the smile in his voice. “See you at 8? There’s a new disco in Soho I’m dying to check out.”

“Sure thing, I just have to make myself glamorous first. It’s quite a process now that I have all the elegance and svelteness of a large marine mammal. But I’ll rise to the occasion. I’ll be the most attractive whale you’ve ever seen.”

He chuckles. “I don’t doubt that at all.”

You roll up to John’s Putney house in your maroon Ferrari, the convertible top down despite the biting cold, a bomber jacket—just a tad too tight to zip up over your bump—concealing your short black dress. Pregnancy has finally started to look good on you, aforementioned marine-mammal-ness notwithstanding: your hair is thick and gleaming, your skin clear, your face fuller and emitting a mysterious, ethereal sort of glow. You check your hair and makeup in the rear view mirror as John jogs out of his front door. He stops dead in the driveway.

“Wow.”

You pat the passenger’s seat. “Hop in, felon.”

“He bought you a freaking Ferrari?!”

“Am I not worth it?” you joke, flipping your hair.

John slides into the car. “How do I become married to Roger Taylor? Tell me your secrets.”

“Well, to receive a Ferrari, you’ll probably have to get pregnant with his firstborn child too.”

“Ahhh. A minor obstacle.”

You laugh as you spin out of the driveway and cruise towards downtown London. Then you peer over at John, really taking him in, reading him like heart rates or units of measurement inked to the barrel of a syringe. His elbow is propped up on the window sill, his chin nestled in the heel of his hand, his blue-grey eyes unfocused as they gaze out into the night sky and streetlights that flicker by like the episodic flashes of a firefly. “Are you okay, John?” you ask seriously.

“Yeah,” he replies, a prospect that seems implausible.

“I’m glad you called.” You both know what that means: Roger isn’t home, I don’t know where he is, I don’t know when he’s coming back or what condition he’ll be in when he does.

John smirks wryly. “You have a shit husband. I am a shit husband. We should stick together, people like you and me.”

The disco is a small place called Lo Asilo with neon blue lights rimming the entrance way like vines laced through a trellis. John orders a Manhattan for himself, goes back and forth with the bartender for a while about the virgin drink options, ends up passing you a non-alcoholic raspberry mojito.

“I love it,” you pronounce after a tentative sip. This kid loves fruit. And sugar. And you feel a abrupt groundswell of affection for that sometimes inconvenient, frequently anxiety-inducing little person who temporarily shares your blood and bones: who they are, who they one day will be. These moments are coming more and more often, as your future solidifies in some ways and becomes more imprecise in others.

“You’re almost halfway done,” John says, pointing at your belly like he can read your mind.

You sigh. “Do we have to talk about me?”

“We definitely can’t talk about me.” He studies you for a moment, makes mental notes like someone browsing through archaeological artifacts in a museum. Then he realizes: “You don’t want to have to stay home.”

You nod, downing your sort-of-mojito. No offense, kid, but I could really use some mind-numbing inebriation right now.

“Because you don’t trust him...?”

“It’s not quite that,” you reply. “I can’t stand the thought of not being there if something happened to him. If something happened to any of you. If I wasn’t there to at least try to help and someone ended up...you know...” Goddammit, I’m so much more sensitive these days. You force it out. “If someone ended up dying, I wouldn’t be able to live with that.”

“No one’s going to die, love,” he says gently.

“People die all the time. Especially rock stars. Hendrix, Joplin, Morrison, Murcia, McIntosh, Bolin. I could go on. There will be more names a year from now. Maybe some we recognize.”

“What do you want me to do? You want me to haul him off to rehab? You want me to handcuff him to his hotel bed every night we’re on tour? I’ll do it if you think that would help. I’ll do whatever you want. Obviously I don’t want to lose him either. But I’ve never known Roger to be someone you could force into anything.”

“No, he’s definitely not,” you agree softly, in surrender.

The opening notes of Fleetwood Mac’s Go Your Own Way rumble from the stereo. John knocks back the end of his Manhattan and sets the glass on the bar.

“Alright, congratulations, you get your wish.” He grins, holding out his hand. “We don’t have to talk about you anymore.”

“I’m warning you, I am zero percent graceful in my current state.”

“I’ll manage somehow.”

“Loving you

Isn't the right thing to do

How can I ever change things

That I feel?”

John leads, pushing through the crowd to a spot near the center of the kaleidoscopic dance floor. Then he knots his fingers through yours, sways with the music, dances comically sluggishly as you struggle to keep up, twirls you randomly until you’re giggling against him, blushing and not thinking about Roger or the tour or your impending career change at all; and you suspect John isn’t thinking about Veronica either. You belt out the lyrics at the top of your lungs, flouncing around like an extremely ungainly Stevie Nicks, and after a moment John joins you, pumping his fist in the air:

“You can go your own way

Go your own way

You can call it

Another lonely day...”

And it feels good. It feels more than good. It feels almost like being free.

Lindsay Buckingham’s guitar solo splits through the fog-filled room, and your smile begins to fade, recedes like the frothing ocean waves at low tide. And you think, more clearly and more inauspiciously than you ever have in your life: Something’s wrong.

The body knows when it nears catastrophe. There’s a primal dread that sparks up in the blood and nerves and endocrine system, seeps from your pores like smoke, cloaks you in that bleak, biological premonition. Dogs can smell it, can be trained to alert people before that nascent calamity manifests into a cardiac arrest or diabetic coma or asthma attack or stroke; and humans can feel it when that inevitable devastation creeps close enough, when it sharpens its fangs and scrapes them down the jugular. You’ve never truly been able to understand that before. But you recognize it now.

There’s cold sweat springing up on your skin like goosebumps. There’s a stormy rush of blood pounding in your ears. You can’t remember the name of the club, the city, the type of car Roger bought you for Valentine’s Day, the stone gleaming in your ring. The air that you wrench into your lungs is thin and fleeting, without the relief of oxygen. There’s an indescribably heavy iron twist of fear buried in your guts.

John freezes in the middle of the dance floor. “What?” he asks, alarmed.

There’s pain; sudden, sharp, low. Your eyes follow it. There’s blood snaking down your bare thighs. There’s indigo darkness crumbling around the edges of your vision as you sink to the floor. Your knees bruise against cold tile.

Someone is screaming for help; you aren’t sure who. But you reach for them, because they sound so irrevocably strong, because they sound like home. Your fingertips collide with John’s leather jacket.

“Make it stop,” you choke out through bared teeth, as claws of glass and barbed wire tear at where your future once lived. The agony is unnatural, razored, almost surgical.

“I can’t. Here, we’re gonna get you help, hold on, hold on to me—”

“I don’t want to be here anymore,” you sob into John’s neck. His skin is stubbled and dusted with nicotine and flare-hot. He’s trying to drag you to your feet, shouting over his shoulder for someone to call an ambulance. “I don’t want this anymore, I don’t want any of it. I don’t want to see the world. I want to go home.”

“Don’t say that, everything’s going to be okay, they’re coming, listen to me, listen to me, I’m going to get you help—”

“It’s too late,” you whisper. And every light in the world blinks out.

~~~~~~~~~~

It’s February 16th, 1978, and you’re not pregnant at all.

You’re a registered nurse, and so you understand perfectly the terms that the doctors use when they explain to you why it happened, after they do the ultrasound to make sure the miscarriage was complete; when they tell you why it was doomed from the start. Stage 4 endometriosis. Placental abruption. Difficult to conceive, nearly impossible to carry to term. An open and shut case. That’s the genetic lottery, and some people roll straight sevens, blood-red sevens rimmed with fool’s gold.

What you have a harder time understanding is how this could have happened to you. How is it possible to have all of that organic poison building inside of you, all that latent ruin, and yet not know it? To have never had any symptoms besides slightly-more-annoying-than-average periods? To have a nursery set up in one of the five extraneous bedrooms—the one with the blue-grey wallpaper, to be exact—with a crib your child will never use, never peer out of with their tiny fists curled around the wooden bars, never cry out to you in the middle of the night from? To have a list of names scribbled on a notepad stuck to the refrigerator—Roger favors deeply Anglophile possibilities like Arthur and Jasper and Alice, while you tend towards names with a Southern European flair like Aurelia, Callista, Felix, Augustus, although you both quite like the idea of incorporating some variation of John—that you suddenly have no use for? To have to inform your husband, your parents, your friends that there is no baby, that there most likely never will be, and that it’s entirely your fault: So terribly sorry, due to a genetic glitch my womb is rendered inhospitable, we’ll have to leave that ultimate trophy of womanhood off the shelf indefinitely I’m afraid.

You’re in and out through the night. The dreams are murky and fragmented and ominous, jolting you awake four times an hour. John never leaves, except to periodically phone the Surrey house from the nurse’s station. And there’s pain now, of course, even through the haze of the morphine drip—your uterus cramping down to collapse the void, your head splitting from the shock and hormonal bedlam—but it’s almost like that pain belongs to someone else, someone you might have heard of but don’t know especially well. The pain doesn’t surprise you. What surprises you is the totality of the darkness that rolls over you like a quilt, like a second skin.

Shouldn’t I feel at least some infinitesimal amount of relief, of liberation? Shouldn’t I feel free?

“I don’t feel free,” you murmur, your voice hoarse and very quiet.

“What?” John leans into you, takes your hand in his, lays his palm on your forehead and smooths back your hair. Harsh morning sunlight streams in through the window. “What did you say?”

“I don’t feel free at all. I just feel empty.”

His greyish eyes are slick and anguished. “I am so fucking sorry,” he says, his voice breaking.  

You whisper: “He’s never going to be able to love me now.”

“Shhhhh, don’t,” John pleads. “He’s always loved you. As much as he can, and in the way that he can.”

“You’ve been here all night.”

“Of course.” And he hasn’t managed to tell Roger. Which means Roger hasn’t come home yet.

You shake your head groggily. “No, you have your own family. You have to go home.”

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it,” he says tersely.

“John, you have to go home. You have to call at least. Veronica could have gone into labor or something.”

“No, seriously, it’s fine, she pops out one a year no problem. I’m staying.”

A scalding tear slinks down your cheek. “You’re lucky to have her.”

“They must have you on a lot of drugs.”

You laugh, then begin to cry.

“Hey, don’t do that, please don’t do that, shhhh...”

John climbs into the hospital bed and you fold into him, burrow into his warmth that smells like cigarettes and dusky cologne and Manhattans, sob against his chest as he locks his arms around you and pulls you in until there’s no space, no air, no line between you at all.

“You have to be okay,” he murmurs, his lips to your forehead. “I need you to be okay for me. Because when I was messed up I didn’t get better for me, I didn’t do it for me, I got better for you. So now you need to get better too, okay?”

“Okay,” you promise, not meaning it at all.

And he makes you promise again and again until you drift back to sleep with his steady heartbeat drumming against your palm, just loud enough to keep the dreams away.

~~~~~~~~~~

John finally reaches Roger at 9:47 a.m. Roger arrives at the hospital twenty minutes later, his hair a chaotic tangle, his eyes shielded by prescription sunglasses, still wearing the sapphire blue suit he left the house in the night before, his tie undone and several buttons missing from his shirt.

“I’m so sorry,” Roger begins. “I was at this party and met some guys who wanted to collaborate on my solo album, and it turned into a whole...oh, fuck, it doesn’t matter. Is she—?”

John grabs him, pushes him against the hallway wall, yanks off Roger’s sunglasses and pries open his eyes. Roger flinches, but doesn’t struggle.

“What—?”

“I’m making sure you’re not high.” John observes normal pupils and shoves Roger away, disgusted. “Get in there. She needs you.”

“You’ve done a lot for us,” Roger says.

“It’s mutual.”

“Thank you.” There are tears in Roger’s crystalline blue eyes. “Thank you so much, John.”

John nods towards the hospital room. “Just go.”

She wakes up when she hears the door open, and she knows it’s Roger instantly. Of course she does. Everyone knows the way a room changes when Roger walks into it, the way he lights up people and places like wildfire, the way he gets humans addicted to his innate magnetism the same way some are hooked on coke or alcohol or heroin. John isn’t that kind of man, and he knows it. He will never be that kind of man.

“I’m so sorry,” she tells Roger.

Roger shakes his head, cradling her face in his hands. “Baby, I’m not mad. I don’t blame you. I’m not mad at you.”

John watches as she explains everything, as Roger embraces her, as he says all the right things, all those beautiful and hopeful and effortlessly spellbinding things, as she begins—slowly, yes, but unmistakably—to light up again like rising sunlight glinting off quicksilver waves.

And only then does John leave.

[hockeynascarfan91258]

A/N: Links to Chapter 1-3 posted at bottom of page!

Chapter 4

It had been a few days since Eden left Sids after they raped her.    She called out sick from work she couldn't face them.    The team was headed out to California and Eden asked if she could fly out and meet the team there.    They said that was fine.     Eden went out a day early and did some sight seeing.       It was nice.     The team arrived later that day.     She had just gotten finished eating when there was a knock at the door.    Eden goes and sees it was Sid.

"Eden please open the door." Sid says.

He had carnations her favorite in his hands and a stuffed Panda bear too.   Eden figured she might as well hear him out.    She opens the door.  

"What Sid?" Eden says.

"I am sorry for what I did to you the other day." Sid says.

"Oh you mean raping me when I said no." Eden replies snarky.

"Yes I am sorry baby.   It will never happen again.     Kris is sorry too these are from us." Sid says.

"Look let's just let by gones be bygones.   I  won't say anything about what happened.   I won't tell your secret." Eden says.

"Please baby.    Think about it.    We really do love you." Sid says.

"Okay I will think about it okay." Eden says.

"Good baby.    We love you and don't want to loose you." Sid says.

"I will think about it okay.   Now I just want to go lie down.   I am not feeling well." Eden says.

"Okay feel better." Sid says kissing her softly on the lips.

"Thanks Sid.   Goodnight I will see you at practice tomorrow." Eden replies.

"Okay baby." Sid says kissing her head.

Eden took the flowers and Panda and shut the door behind him.    She wasn't thinking about anything she was walking out of this and going to be with Chase.  

That was when her phone went off. It was Chase.

"Meet me down in the lobby." Chase texts.

"Wait you're here!" Eden texts back.

"Yup got a race here in Cali and then racing Phoenix and Vegas." Chase says.

"Let me change and I'll be right down." Eden says.

She throws on a pair of jeans and a black be brave shirt.    She then heads down to the lobby.

Chase was standing there waiting for her. She runs to him.

"Chase." Eden exclaims practically jumping on him.

"Hey princess." Chase says kissing her.

Eden kisses back not caring who was watching.

"I'm so happy you are here." Eden says.

"I am happy too I get too see my girl. Now let's go I have a special date planned just the two of us." Chase says.

They link hands and head out to them rental car. They both get in. Chase takes off towards San Diego.

"Where are we going?" Eden asks.

"You will see." Chase says smiling at her.

45 minutes later they arrive at the zoo.

"The San Diego Zoo!" Eden  says excitedly.

'Well I know how much you love animals especially pandas so I figured I needed to bring you." Chase  says.

They park. They then head to the entrance. Chase  pays for them them. They find out there was a bus called the Kangaroo Bus that would drop them off at various parts of the park. They get on the bus and it takes them to the first part of the zoo. The Australian Outback. Inside there they see the Australian Wander which was full of plants that come from down under, along with Camels, Koalas. Laughing Kookabura's, Tasmanian Devils and Wombats.

It was fun. They got to hold a koala, play with a kangaroo and ride a camel together.

Eden was taking all kinds of pictures.

From there they head into the Lost Forest exhibit,. There they see Bog Garden, Bonabo's , Fern Canyon, Flamingos, Ginger Garden, harpy eagels, Hawaiian pants, Hippo's, Mandrills, Monkey's, Okapi's, orangutans, Otter's and pygmy Hippos pygmy marmosets, Tapirs, terrace lagoon, and Tigers.

"I want a hippo for Christmas is one of my favorite Xmas songs so I love hippos." Eden says.

"They are intriguing animals." Chase says.

They continue on. They were holding hands and acting like a real couple and Eden was loving it. They then get on the Kangaroo bus and head to the nest spot for them. They then do the Panda Canyon, where they see Amur Leopard's, Giant Panda's red pandas and Takins.

"Pandas are my absolute favorite animal in the whole wide world." Eden says.

"I know now come with me." Chase says.

They head behind the habitat where they met a zookeeper. Chase paid extra for them to be able to play with one of the panda's. It was one of the Cubs born not that long ago. Also Eden was adopting it and could name it. Eden was having the time of her life. Chase had them take picture and a video. She ended up naming the bear Chase. Finally they leave.

"Thank you for doing that for me. I love it." Eden says.

"I am glad baby." Chase says.

That was when Eden ran to the trash can and threw up. Chase held her hair back. He also got her ginger Ale.

"Do you want to go home?" Chase asks.

"Nope I'm okay now." Eden says.

They then head to the Africa Rocks where they got to see and play with the penguins.

They head around the zoo seeing more different animals. They saved the best for last where Eden  got to see the polar bears another one of her favorites. It was neat to see them out playing. Eden  took more pictures.    Finally they headed to the gift shop and Eden got a few things. Chase got her a few things as well and they left.

"Thank you Clyde for a much needed fun day." Eden says.

"You are welcome Princes." Chase says.

"Our first official date." Eden says.

"And it's not over yet." Chase says.

They hop in the car and head back towards Los Angeles.    Chase heads to Disneyland and parks.

"Disneyland baby?" Eden asks.

"But of course. Have to take my Princess to the happiest place on earth." Chase replies.

"I love you." Eden says.

"I love you more princess." Chase replies kissing her hand.

He then gets out of the car and gets her door. Eden gets out and they head to Disneyland hand in hand. They head inside and   stop first at Sleeping Beauty's castle and have someone take a picture of them in front.   

They got a few different ones including of one of them kissing.   After that they head to start riding rides.   They  get on Alice and Wonderland, Astro Orbiter, Autopia, Big Thunder Mountain, Buzz Lightyear Astro Blasters, Casey Jr. Circus Train, Chip and Dale's tree house, the Disney Gallery, Disney Railroad, The Disneyland Story presenting Great moments with Mr. Lincoln, Donald's Boat, Enchanted Tiki Room, Finding Nemo Submarine Voyage, Frontierland Shootin' Exposition, Gadget's Go Coaster, Goofy's playhouse, Indiana Jones adventure, It's a small world, Jungle Cruise, King Arthur's Carrousel, Mad Tea Party, Main Street Cinema, The Many Adventures of Winnie the Pooh, Mark Twain Riverboat, Matterhorn Bobsleds, Mickey's house and meet Mickey, Minnie's house, Mr. Toads Wild Ride, Peter Pan's Flight, Pincchio's Darin Journey, Pirates Lair on Tom Sawyers Island, Pirates of the Caribbean, Roger Rabbits Car Toon Spin, Snow Whites Scary adventure, Space Mountain, Star Tours The Adventure continues, Star wars Launch Bay, Star Wars Path of the Jedi, Storybook land canal boats, Tarzan's treehouse, Dumbo the flying elephant, Haunted Mansion, Main street vehicles, Splash Mountain, Davey Crockett's Explorer canoes, and Sailing Ship Colombia.  

"I am hungry." Eden says after they finished riding the rides.

"Me too." Chase  replies.

"Let's  eat and then we can continue on." Eden  says.

"Sounds good.:" Chase  says.

They decide to eat at the Carnation Café.    They both get burgers and fries and milkshakes.    After they eat they head and do a few shows.   They do a Star Wars Character Experience and then they do Jedi Training.   That was fun they then meet fairy friends at Pixie Hallow and meet the Disney princess at Royal Hall. Chase took a few pictures of Eden. He got a her few things. He figured for Halloween she could be a princess and he would be a race car driver.

They  continue on and get on Animation Academy, Fliks Flyers, Francis Ladybug Boggie, Golden Zephyr, Goofy's sky school, Guardians of the Galaxy: Mission Breakout, Heimlich's chew chew train, it's tough to be a bug, Jumpin Jellyfish, King Triton's carousel, The Little Mermaid: Ariel's undersea adventure, Luigi's Rollickin Roadsters, Maters Junkyard Jamboree, Monsters Inc. Mike and Sully to the rescue, Princess Dot Puddle Park, Radiator Springs racers, Red car trolley, Silly Symphony Swings, Soarin around the world, Sorcerers workshop, Toy Story Midway Mania, Tuck and Rolls Drive em buggies, Turtle Talk with Crush, The Bakery Tour, California Screamin, Games of the Boardwalk, Grizzly River run, Mickey's Fun Wheel, Redwood Creek Challenge trail, Frozen at Disneyland resort, and Guardians of the Galaxy: Monsters after dark.

They then head and see Ana and Elsa's Royal Welcome, Frozen Live at Hyperion, Meet Olaf, and Meet the Residents of Radiator Springs in Cars land.

Finally, they head back to the car and head to Universal Studios.   They go inside and get on rides.   They ride on Harry Potter and the Forbidden journey, The Wizarding World Of Harry Potter, Flight of the Hippogrif, Fast and the Furious Supercharged, King Kong 360, The Walking Dead attraction, Despicable Me Minion Mayhem, Jurassic Park the ride, Transformers The ride, The Simpson Ride, Revenge of the Mummy Ride, Super Silly Fun Land, Sill Swirly Fun Ride, Special Effects show, Water World, Universal's animal actors, and Charter sightings.

They finish everything they wanted to do at the park before heading back to the car.

They then head back to the car and back to the track. Chase  had something special planned for them. He had it set up and ready to go.

"What's this?" Eden says seeing a table set up for two.

"Dinner for two baby." Chase says.

"Awww Clyde." Eden says kissing him.

Chase kisses back. He then helps her sit down.

He goes and heats up their food. He had made chicken parmigiana and noodles along with a salad. When it was done he sits it in the table and then takes his seat. They each take a piece of chicken and some noodles.   They then add a little bit more sauce to each before sprinkling it with parmesan cheese.   They put some salad in their salad bowls and add the dressing.   Chase pours them each a glass of wine.

Eden takes a bite of the food and then says

"Oh my god it tastes as good as it smells."

"Thanks.   The sauce is my mothers homemade recipe." Chase  says.

"Well it's good." Eden  says.

They eat and enjoy each others company.   Once they finished Eden helped Chase  clean up and put the leftovers away and load the dishwasher.

"The flowers are for you." Chase says to her.

"Thank you Clyde.  Carnations are my favorite flower and pink is my favorite color." Eden  says.

"I know baby." Chase says.

"So wha are we going to watch?" Eden  asks.

"Since  I know how much you love scary movies I have the Conjuring universe movies ready to go." Chase replies.

"Lead the way." Eden says.

Chase lead her to the game room.   They both sit on the couch as Chase turns on the Nun.   The movie starts.    Not even five minutes into it Chase jumps at a scary part.

"Damn." Chase says.

"You really hate scary movies don't you?" Eden asks.

"Yes I do.    But I will watch them because I know you like them." Chase says.

"Well I will keep you safe Clyde." Eden says.

"I know." Chase says as another scary part happens.

They movie went on.   Eden felt him get a little tense and knew he was scared so she leaned in a little closer trying to comfort him.   Chase puts his arm around her pulling her closer to him.  She leaned her head on his shoulder.  

It got to the part where the priest was buried A alive.    Chase started to shake.   That was one of his phobias being trapped someplace not being able to get out.   He was claustrophobic.

"Oh Chase." Eden says leaning in placing a soft kiss on his lips.

She would do anything at that moment to make him feel better.   She never experienced a man so vulnerable.

Chase kisses back putting his hands on each side of her cheeks.  Eden parts her lips slightly.   Chase deepens the kiss exploring her mouth with his tongue.

"Mmm." Chase moans deep in his throat.

"Mmm." Eden moans too.

"God Princess ." Chase says once they both come up for air.

"You are a good kisser Clyde." Eden says.

"So are you Princess." Chase replies.

  She looks deep into his eyes and sees a bunch of emotion swirling in them.

Chase leans in kissing her again pulling her all but into his lap.   His hands roam up the back of her shirt setting her skin on fire. 

"God Clyde take me to bed." Eden moans when he let her up for air again.

"God baby are you sure?" Chase asks.

"God yes." Eden says she wanted him so bad.

Chase picks her up carrying her into his bedroom.   He sits her on her feet closing the door.    Once the door was closed Eden pushes him up against it.

"Eden." Chase moans.

"I want you and I am going to take you." Eden says.

"I want you too." Chade says.

She starts to lift his shirt up placing soft kisses along his chest as she does.

"Fuck." Chase moans.

Once she gets the shirt up and and over his she throws it to the floor.

"You have the most amazing body Clyde." Eden says running her nails lightly down his chest to the band of his jeans.

"Thanks Princess oh god." Chase moans as she pops open the button and pulls the zipper down running her finger up his happy trail.

She works the jeans down his hips kissing his stomach with light fluttery kisses as she does.  Chase just moans.

She then works his boxer briefs down as well freeing his rock hard cock.   Eden licks her lips.  She places soft kisses on his stomach again before running her tongue down his happy trail.   She places soft kisses on each thigh before slowly taking his cock into her mouth.

"Fuck Eden." Chase moans running his fingers through her hair.

She sucks him in nice and slow running her tongue along the underside of his shaft.   She looks up locking eyes with him.   She keeps sucking him in and out of her mouth slowly.

"Fuck Eden that's it suck my dick baby." Chase moans gently pulling her hair as he starts to thrust.

Eden kept going slowly torturing him bringing him to the verge of cumming.

"God baby I am going to cum." Chase moans he didn't know what she wanted.

Eden gently starts to play with his balls never taking her eyes off him.

"Princess oh god." Chase moans as he cums hard down her throat.

Eden swallows every drop before slowly licking him clean.   She then slowly works her way back up his body pulling him in for a kiss.   She explores every inch of his mouth with her tongue letting him taste himself on her lips and tongue.   Chase slowly backs her towards the bed.  He breaks the kiss long enough to pull her shirt over her head tossing it.

"Jesus Eden that bra." Chase moans seeing it.

He pulls one strap down kissing her shoulder as he does.  Then kisses the other as he pulls that strap down.   He sucks and licks the tops of each breast peaking out from the cup.   He pulls the cups down taking one in his mouth running a circle around her nipple with his tongue before sucking on it gently nibbling on it bringing it to a peak.

"Clyde." Eden moans running her fingers in his hair.  

Chase moves to the other breast doing the same thing.   He slowly unclasps the bra pulling it off tossing it aside as well.    He then kisses softly down her stomach to the band of her jeans. 

He uses his teeth to pop open the button lightly nibbling on her belly as he slowly inches them down her hips and legs. Eden steps out of them kicking off her shoes.

"God baby those panties.  God so wet." Chase moans running his mouth over her pussy smelling her juices.

He then slowly works them down over her hips and down her legs.     Eden kicks them off.   He then slowly kisses his way up her legs placing a kiss on each thigh.   He blows cool breath across her mound as she slowly spreads her legs.   He runs his tongue up and down her slit before pushing inside starting to fuck her with his tongue. 

Not long after he started Eden gently pulls his hair pulling him away from her.

"Fuck me Clyde." Eden  says all but begging him.

"God okay baby."  Chase says kissing his way up her body.   He picks her up kissing her letting her taste her on his lips and tongue and gently lays her down on the bed.

"God please Clyde I need you inside me now." Eden moans.

"God baby." Chase moans as he gently pushes inside her.

"God yes." Eden moans as he starts to thrust gently at first.

He wanted to go slow letting her adjust to his size.   She was so tight and wet.

"Jesus Eden you feel so good.  Like a glove." Chase moans.

"God fuck me Clyde hard and fast." Eden moans digging her nails into his back.

Chase moves a little harder and faster.   Eden wraps her legs around his waist letting him go deeper inside her.

"Eden oh god." Chase moans going even harder.

"Clyde god that's it." Eden moans as he stretched her even further.

She throws her head back arching into him.  It felt so good.

"God baby I am not going to last." Chase moans

"Cum baby let me feel it." Eden monas.

"Eden sweet Eden." Chase moans looking deep into her eyes as he cums hard deep inside her.

"Clyde oh god." Eden moans shuttering as her orgasm rushes through her.

She cums with him feeling him coat her insides.   She just moans as her body shutters from the pleasure.

Chase kisses her gently on the lips and then the jaw and neck as they ride it out.   

"God Clyde again  I need you again." Eden moans.

She just wanted to feel that good again and not think about anything.

"Okay Eden but this time it will be nice and slow." Chase says.

"Please." Eden begs.

Chase starts to move again inside her taking it nice and slow.

"Eden god." Chase moans loving being inside her.

"Clyde god." Eden moans as he slowly builds her up.

"So close." Eden moans.

"Cum baby." Chase moans.

"Clyde." Eden moans as she cums.

"That's it baby milk my release." Chase moans as he cums again inside her.

They make love a few more times before Eden's eyelashes started to flutter.   Chase gets up.

"Where are you going?" Eden asks sleepily.

"Shhh baby I will be back." Chase says kissing her softly on the lips.

He goes into the bathroom grabbing a wash cloth wetting it with warm water.   He then comes over and gently wipes her down cleaning her.

He goes and tosses the rag in the hamper and then climbs into bed beside her.   She curls up to him laying her head on his chest.   Chase pulls the blanket up over them kissing her head as they both fall asleep.

**************************

The next morning Eden and Chase woke up when the alarm went off.

"Good morning baby:" Chase says.

"Good morning, oh god." Eden says getting up and running to the bathroom.

She made it just in time to empty her stomach in the toilet. Chase was right behind her. She got her everything up. Chase then picks her up gently and carries her back to bed.

"Sorry baby." Eden says.

"For what?" Chase asks.

"Getting sick." Eden replies.

"It's okay." Chase replies.

"I need to go back. I have to change before I head to practice." Eden replies.

"Yeah I know. I am glad I was able to see you." Chase says.

"Me too I will try and make the race on Sunday." Eden adds.

Chase smiles. He gives her a few shirts from his collection. They then head to the car and head back to Eden's hotel.

"I will see you later princess. I love you." Chase says.

"I will see you later Clyde. I love you too." Eden replies.

They share a few more kisses not wanting to part ways. But finally Eden heads inside and up to her room. She showered and got dressed and then heads down to the bus. Once everyone was on they head to the arena. Eden goes and gets the exam room set up in case they would need it for anything. That was when she felt arms snake around her waist.

"Hey baby, I missed you last night." Sid says.

"Hi Sid. Sorry I was so tired. Still getting used to the time change." Eden replies lying.

She didn't know what he would do if he knew she was with Chase. She was scared of him. It sucked cus she had a contract and had to work with the Penguins until the end of the 2021 season. Even though she wanted to quit.

"I know it can take effect on you but you will get used to it." Sid says.

"I know. Don't you have practice?" Eden asks.

" I do but I wanted to know if you were doing anything after?" Sid asks.

"No I don't. Sunday I am going to the NASCAR race before the game that night. But nothing today." Eden replies.

"Okay maybe I can come to your room, we can order room service and watch movies." Sid says.

"Okay." Eden says.

"Good see you then." Sid replies.

"Is Kris coming too?" Eden asks.

"Nope just me this time." Sid says.

"Okay." Eden replies.

Sid kisses her and leaves to attend practice. Eden grabs a little something from the snack bar and goes and watches practice. Halfway through Kris took a high stick to the face and there was blood.

"I got it." Eden says.

Kris comes down the runway and into the exam room. Eden follows him in. Kris was sitting on the table.

"Damn that hurt like a son of a bitch." Kris says.

"Sorry Kris." Eden says dabbing the blood away with a towel.

"It's okay. Is it bad?" Kris asks.

"Yes going to need stitches but shouldn't keep you out of the game tomorrow." Eden says.

"Good." Kris says.

Eden stitches him up. Kris puts his hand over hers.

"Thank you. Sorry for the other day Eden. Are you okay?" Kris asks.

"Yeah I'm okay. And your welcome it's my job." Eden says.

"I know. Im still thankful for you." Kris says.

"I know. I don't know what's going to happen between us but I promise I won't tell anyone about you and Sid. I just don't think I can do this. It took me to moving away and being away from him to realize how much I love Chase." Eden says.

"I know I can tell. Look if you want out that is fine. I know you won't tell anyone about me and Sid but I don't know if Sid will let you go." Kris says.

"I know." Eden says.

"Did you ever love us?" Kris asks.

"I loved you Kris you never hurt me.   Sid in the other hand." Eden says looking down.

"I'm sorry he hurt you Eden." Kris says lifting her head up.

He leans in and kisses her.    Eden kisses back.

"God." Eden moans as she pulls away.

"Go lock the door." Kris says.

Eden goes and locks the door.     She comes back over and climbs into his lap.

"God." Eden moans as he shreds her panties.

"I like skirts." Kris says.

"God." Eden moans as Kris pushes up into her.

"Ride me pretty girl. You know you want to." Kris says.

"God Kris." Eden moans as she starts to move up and down.

"That's it pretty girl." Kris says grabbing her hips.

They needed to be faster. Kris took control of their movements. Eden bit her arm throwing her head back to keep from screaming out. Kris nips and sucks her neck as they move.

"Eden fuck." Kris calls out as he cums hard deep inside of her.

"Kris. "Eden moans out as she cums with him.

They ride it out and Kris picks her up off of him. He stands up and fixes himself.

Kris then kisses her head before walking out the door. Eden collected herself. She then cleans up the exam room and prepared it from the game tomorrow. She then heads out and gets on the bus.

Once all the boys were on board they all head back to the hotel. Eden goes up to her room. She changes into her new Chase Elliott shirt and a pair of lounge pants. She wasn't feeling the greatest. She was laying down when there was a knock at her door. She gets up and opens it. Sid was there with room service and flowers.

"Come in." Eden says letting him in.

"Thanks." Sid says kissing her cheek.

Eden shuts the door.

"What did you bring?" Eden asks.

"Chicken noodle soup and ginger ale. Because I know you said you weren't feeling good." Sid says.

"I am not." Eden replies.

"I am sorry. Well let's eat and then we can relax and watch something on Netflix or something." Sid says.

Eden nods her head yes. So far it was going okay and she wasn't afraid. This was the Sid she started dating. They ate the soup and Eden nibbled the saltines. She sipped the ginger ale. Finally they laid in bed and Eden turned on Netflix. She turned on Sweet Home Alabama one of her favorite movies. She started to think about Chase. This movie was the story of their lives. Sid started to kiss her. Eden kisses back closing her eyes. As they were making out Sid runs his hands down her body. He runs them down her pants and under wear rubbing her pussy before sticking a finger in.

"Hmm nice and wet for me pretty girl." Sid says.

"Yes." Eden moans. She was pretending it was Chase.

"Want me to fuck you pretty girl?" Sid asks.

"Please." Eden begs.

Sid slides her pants and panties off followed by his jeans and boxer briefs. He then hovers over her running his tip along her entrance.

"Soaking for daddy." Sid moans.

"God don't tease." Eden begs.

Sid pushes into her and starts to move thrusting hard and fast.

"Fuck baby." Sid moans as she moves with him.

She wrapped her legs around his waist letting him go deeper.

"God." Eden moans digging her nails into his back.

She still had her eyes closed pretending it was Chase fucking her.

"That's it pretty girl milk my cock baby get ready to take my cum." Sid moans.

"GOd." Eden moans she was almost there.

"Fuck Eden god." Sid moans as he cums hard pumping her pussy full of his cum.

"Clyde oh god Clyde." Eden calls out as she cums too.

"What the fuck did you just call me?" Sid shouts slapping her.

Eden's eyes flashed open and she realized that by her fantasizing about Chase she called out his name.

"Umm." Eden says.

"Did you call me Clyde? Were you thinking about another man while I was fucking you." Sid screams at her.

Eden was so scared she didn't know what to say.

"Answer me you ungrateful ass whore." Sid screams.

"Yes I am so disgusted by you and how you treat me that in order for me to even attempt to have sex I have to think about Chase so I can get off." Eden screams out pushing him off of her.

She gets up off the bed. She was going to hide in the bathroom or something. She had her cell phone.

"You fucking whore. Don't you ever push me again or I will rip your hair out and choke you with it." Sid yells grabbing her hair pulling her back to him.

"Ow you are hurting me." Eden says.

"You think I fucking care. I hope it hurts. Remeber I am the only guy besides Kris who can cum in your sweet pussy. We are the only ones who can fuck you." Sid says.

"Fuck off Sid. I want out of this. I can't stand you. I fucking hate you. Get out." Eden screams turning around wailing out on him.

"You want to hit me bitch. I am going to show you." Sid says.

He picks her up throwing her back into the mirror glass shattering. He bashes her head against it not caring that it busted her head open. He then throws her down onto the floor throwing the mirror down on top of her covering her in glass.

"I will kill you before I ever let you leave." Sid says.

"Please I need help." Eden cries out.

"Fuck that bleed for all I care. If I can't have you no one will." Sid says as he kicks her hard.

Eden whimpers. Sid then leaves the room door slamming behind him. Eden still had her cell phone. It took everything in her to dial his number.

"Hey Princess." Chase says answering on the first ring.

"Chase help. I am hurt." Eden says.

"Eden? Where are you?" Chase asks panicked.

"Hotel Chase. Hurry." Eden says before she blacked out.

"Hang tight princess. I am coming to get you." Chase says.

You ever love somebody so much

You can barely breathe, when you're with them, you meet

And neither one of you, even know what hit 'em

Got that warm fuzzy feeling, yeah them chills, used to get 'em

Now you're getting fucking sick, of looking at 'em

You swore you've never hit 'em, never do nothing to hurt 'em

Now you're in each other's face,

Spewing venom in your words, when you spit 'em

You push, pull each other's hair, scratch, claw, bit 'em

Throw 'em down, pin 'em, so lost in the moments, when you're in 'em

It's the rage that took over it controls you both

So they say it's best, to go your separate ways

Guess that they don't know ya 'cause today, that was yesterday

Yesterday is over, it's a different day

Sound like broken records, playin' over, but you promised her

Next time you'll show restraint

You don't get another chance

Life is no Nintendo game, but you lied again

Now you get to watch her leave

Out the window, guess that's why they call it window pane

Just gonna stand there and watch me burn

But that's alright, because I like the way it hurts

Just gonna stand there and hear me cry

But that's alright, because I love the way you lie

I love the way you lie

I love the way you lie

[kurlyfrasier]

Spaghetti Girl (Part 1/3)

Dean x Reader

Synopsis: Ok so I had a really good description but lost it so.....yeah. Can’t think of words right now. Will add synopsis later...This is one of my favorite SPN fanfics I’ve written, so please read!

Word Count: 1668

Warnings: none

You were a nerd. A total, complete, full-on nerd. As bad as Sam. Maybe even more so. He could barely keep up with what you guys were talking about. Some book? A show, maybe? Dean didn't know for certain. What he did know is that he wished you would talk to him about it. Share your joy with him, not his brother. He even started reading a book you had mentioned to Sam last night. A Walk To Remember. He knew it wasn't your favorite book, but he also knew it was the only book you liked by- whatever the guy's name was. When Dean had gotten to the point where the male lead found out his girlfriend was sick, he slammed the book shut and raised it as if to throw it across the room when he remembered he had borrowed it from you. He set it beside him to glare daggers at it instead.

What if it was you who was sick? What if you knew you were dying but weren’t telling him? Dean's eyes started to blur. In this life- a hunter’s life- you could die any second. What if he never gets to tell you how much you mean to him? What if he never gets to spoil you like you deserve? What if- 

That was it. Tomorrow he was going to start spoiling you. Tomorrow you would know how important you are to him. 

Well, it was tomorrow night and nothing had changed. You and Sam had your heads together whispering about who knows what while he sat on the other side of the room, fists clenched, eyes green with envy. Sam and you didn't even like each other. You were too similar, Sam said. Saw each other as siblings, Sam said. Does that mean you see him the same way? Just a brother? Apparently the annoying brother 'cause you barely ever look at him. He would know. All he ever does is look at you. That did it. You were going to start paying attention to him and you were going to start now. 

"Guys," Dean cleared his throat after no response and spoke louder, more demanding. "Guys!"

Both of you jumped. Sam looked annoyed while you just stared stunned. 

"You hungry? I was thinking of-"

"Oh, don't worry, I haven't forgotten about dinner. I was gonna start it in a few, but if you guys are hungry I can-" you started to get up.

"No," Dean almost shouted. "I mean-uh, I wanted to make you-I mean... I wanted to make you guys spaghetti. Yeah." Dean didn't give either of you a chance to respond before walking out of the room. 

"That was weird, right?" You asked Sam. "I mean, I don't think I've ever seen him cook since I met you guys."

"Yeah… Usually he just grabs us greasy burgers and beer," you both eye each other. "I'll go check on him."

"That's probably best."

The clanking of pots and pans could be heard as Sam strode closer to the kitchen. "Dean," no response. "Dean," he said a little louder. Still no response. "Dean!"

"Ah-" Dean jumped in surprise, which was unusual in itself. “What!”

“Is...everything okay?” Sam asked cautiously, not sure what was going on in his brother’s head.

“Yeah man, everything’s fine. Just tryin’ to remember where the stuff for spaghetti is, that’s all.”

“Okay, except you haven’t cooked anything since y/n’s been around. Heck you didn’t even cook before that. You made cereal and sandwiches.”

“Yeah. So?” Dean was unsure how to go about telling Sam. Did he even want Sam to know? Could- would Sam help? “What’s your point Sam.”

“My point. Dean. Is that you’re acting strange. Tell me what’s going on.”

“Nothin’. Just thought I’d be nice for once.”

“For once?” Sam paused and took a step closer. “Dean, you save lives. Almost every day. That’s more than nice.”

Dean sucked in a breath, turned the stove to boil, and turned around. Facing his brother head on. Here goes nothing. “Not hers,” he mumbled, barely audible.

Sam’s face scrunched in confusion, wondering if he heard correctly. Her? Then it dawned on him. Eyes wide, he spouted, pointing reflexively in the direction of the war room. “You mean y/n?”

“Maybe,” Dean looked away. This wasn’t going quite how he had hoped. Not that he knew what he hoped for.

“Wait. Wait wait wait. Let me ask you something. Did you know spaghetti is her favorite?”

“Is it? I mean, I just thought it was easy to make, you know? Boil water, heat up a can of sauce, add meat-”

“You did know!” Sam beamed. He had finally caught his brother out. He could barely believe it. Dean liked you. No. Like was too small of a word and he knew it in his gut. He had more than a crush on you if he was making your favorite meal. It meant he’d been paying profuse attention to you. Then another thought popped in his head. “You have her book, don’t you. I bet you even read it.”

“Now Sam,” Dean’s head shot up. “Don’t go accusing me of reading. I have a reputation to uphold.”

“You did. You read it.”

“Not all of it,” he muttered.

“She’s been looking for it all morning. She thinks she lost it. You should go tell her where it is. She’d appreciate it.” Sam smirked, folding his arms across his chest.

“I’ll give it back to her tomorrow.” Dean turned back to the stove, attempting to stave off the conversation.

“So you’re just going to let her think she lost it on a hunt until it magically reappears tomorrow? Dean. That’s the opposite of thoughtful.”

“I don’t want her to know I read it, okay.”

“Why not?”

“I was gonna… you know… bring it up in conversation,” Dean shrugged, like talking books was a normal, everyday thing for him.

“Dean.” Sam paused, he had to attempt to be tactful about this. Apparently his brother was sensitive about you. “If you’re doing what I think you’re doing, then maybe you could at least admit the spaghetti was for her. Or maybe- I don’t know- have a conversation about something you both enjoy. Maybe even ask her to help you cook-”

“I can cook, okay. And that’s the point of reading the book. Conversation.” Dean said, his back still turned to his brother, now adding noodles to the boiling water and meat to the pan he’d be adding sauce to. His homemade sauce. The sauce their father had taught them to make. The sauce he made at 3am that morning.

“Okay...Dean, there’s obviously something else on your mind-”

“Yeah, where’s the mushrooms. She loves mushrooms.”

“Cabinet on your right.” Sam didn’t even want to know how he knew you liked mushrooms. “Now tell me, what’s really going through your head. Why are you suddenly trying to get her attention?”

“It’s not sudden.”

“It is to us!” Sam was exasperated. Sometimes Dean could really make him want to punch something for no good reason. Tact and patience were officially out the window. “You’ve barely talked to her since we’ve met her! You always have her go with me when we separate on hunts. You put her in separate rooms from us at motels. You never let her go get the food when we’re out, or groceries for here for that matter. You won’t even voluntarily go near her. What has happened in the last 24 hours for you to suddenly make her spaghetti?”

“Because I don’t know what to say! I don’t want her to get hurt! What if I get distracted worrying about her if we partner up on hunts and I slip up! I don’t want to see those beautiful y/e/c eyes tear up if something bad happens! It would break my heart. What if someone grabs her while we’re sitting around in the motel, or here, while she’s getting groceries! Every time we’re in the same room I can’t help but want to kiss those pretty lips, touch that pretty hair, grab that sexy ass, hug her so tight,” his voice trailed off, sounding defeated. “What if she was sick? Huh, Sam? What then? Then I realized, in this life she could die any second. I don’t want to waste it, but I don’t know where to start. I just want to spoil her like she deserves.”

Sam cleared his throat, eyes glancing anywhere but at Dean. A sad attempt at shaking off the shock and the fact that Dean doesn’t know. Granted, he had just found out himself that morning.

“What is it?” Dean asked, eyes squinting in suspicion. He could always tell when Sam was hiding something. He claimed it was a big brother thing when they were kids.

“What? Um, nothing. Why? I’m just shocked, that’s all-”

“Don’t play dumb with me, little brother. You,” he shoved a finger in Sam’s chest. “Know. Something. Tell me now or so help me-”

“She is sick, Dean.”

“Don’t lie to me, Sam,” he growled out.

“I’m not lying. She has MS. Multiple Sclerosis. It’s a-”

“I know what it is Sam!” Dean’s chest heaved. Everything turned red. His mouth clenched shut, fists closed. Heavy footsteps sent him searching for you before he even knew where he was going. “Watch the food,” he demanded over his shoulder.

Why hadn’t you told him? You could’ve had an attack at any moment. What if you were in the middle of fighting a vampire, werewolf, skinwalker, your regular everyday creep- anything- and suddenly your body didn’t do what it was told. You could have died!

He stopped dead in his tracks the moment he caught you dancing with your headphones on. What were you listening to? The world got its color back, his breathing became more even, and his fists relaxed as a small smile played at his lips. What was he going to do with you?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Part 2

[harryandmolly]

fear and loathing in mandeville canyon *2*

summary: Shawn & Lilly, derailed, detoured, but maybe not destroyed

warnings: language, going going but not quite gone

wc: 3.2k

-----------

He forgot about how pink she is.

It sounds so stupid, even in his head. Of course she’s kind of pink. She’s pale and gingery. It’s just jarring to see her skin like this again, glowing in the kitchen in the dappled morning sunlight. 

He announces himself with a clearing of his throat and peels his interested gaze away from the way her rosy toes bounce to an invisible beat against the kitchen floor. She looks over her shoulder.

More pink.

���Morning,” he grunts, edging around the other side of the counter to head for the fridge.

“Hi.”

Her voice is soft and a little rough. He forces himself not to look at her. He busies himself instead with digging an apple out of the fruit drawer.

“How’s the room?” he asks, a safe entrance point.

“Oh, it’s good. It’s nice.”

He aches. They’re so awkward. He doesn’t know what he was expecting. He tried to steel himself for this, he knew they couldn’t just fall back into what they were before. But how do you prepare for the awkwardness of being strangers with your best friend?

“Good. Cool. Yeah, I thought the balcony would be good. I mean, y’know, for yoga.”

She nods, then looks back down at the pan of eggs she’s cooking. She’s swirling her spatula, cooking them over a very low heat like Gordon Ramsey. He’s never watched her cook eggs before. When they were together, they usually Postmated breakfast. He doesn’t really know why.

She looks tired, despite his assumption that she slept from early last night until just now. She looks as tired as he feels, having gotten around the four hours that’s become all but normal to him recently. He has too much going on in his head to expect any restorative sleep. There aren’t enough waking hours in the day, so his body made more.

Lilly looks up at him so suddenly he stops, mouth open, the apple hovering near his lips, unmoving. He feels his heart stutter in his chest.

Her eyes drop. She swallows and seems to refocus on her breakfast. Shawn tries not to feel disappointed. After all, he disappointed her first.

“I’ll be around outside if you need me,” he offers, hoping to god he doesn’t look like a kicked puppy as he wanders off, watching her gaze remain steady on the eggs like he didn’t say anything at all.

+

Shawn slips the phone back into his pocket. It’s not doing him any good right now. He’s not sure what is. He glances down at his guitar disdainfully, then back up to squint through the afternoon sun at the winding gardens.

He’s been outside almost all day. A part of him wonders if he’s subconsciously surrendering the space to her, in case she really doesn’t want him in it. A bigger part of him thinks he just doesn’t want her to hear this shit he’s working on.

Every time he thinks of a lyric and decides to sing it out loud, he almost convulses with disgust. Nothing sounds right or feels right. He likes the melody -- loves it, actually. He hasn’t written anything worth a damn in the last few weeks, and possibly before, and this had him hoping he was getting back on track with his album. But now he’s stuck. Beyond stuck. He’s exhausted and stressed enough to half-believe he’s lost any songwriting talent he ever had.

He wonders what Lilly’s doing. He’s afraid to check. He doesn’t want to hover or annoy her. His stomach turns at the idea of her disliking him any more than she already does. The truth is, he craves her company more than anything else about her. He misses plucking at a guitar at one end of a couch with her feet in his lap while she wrote on her laptop. He even misses FaceTime sessions when they were mostly silent, getting other shit done, but just wanted, needed to be with each other.

He wets his lips and slouches against the teak garden bench, sighing heavily as his mind races through a harried, scattered version of a summation of the last nine months. He can’t believe he let everything get so fucked up. Shawn picks at a loose thread on his gym shorts and wonders if there’s any chance at all that she might miss being around him, too.

He lifts the guitar back into his lap after a too-long self pity session. He clears his throat and shifts to get comfortable. As he does, he senses something that makes him look over his shoulder, just in time to catch the flutter of a curtain closing from one of the living rooms with floor-to-ceiling windows that face the backyard.

He turns back to the guitar.

+

Shawn heads inside around dinner time. He can feel the heat settling in his shoulders and the bridge of skin across his nose and he knows he should’ve been wearing sunscreen. He also knows that nine months ago, Lilly would’ve ripped him a new one if he came back to her sunburnt, so he’s a little masochistically curious to see her reaction.

She’s in the kitchen again, almost exactly where he left her. Her hair is piled up in a bun that’s been picked at and hastily rebuilt all day. At some point she changed into a new pair of leggings and a workout tank. She looks like an Instagram ad for trendy healthy living in this kitchen. He allows himself half a smile.

He props the guitar up against the window seat and edges toward her like she’s a feral cat. Her eyes lift from the wide blonde-wooded butcher’s block that lives beside the sink. They narrow almost imperceptibly at the sight of him, all red and sweaty, he’s sure, and then drop back down to the box of Kraft mac and cheese she’s pouring into a boiling pot.

He’s gonna live on that look for days.

“Hey,” he grunts, realizing his voice is a little hoarse from abusing it all day, “How was your day?”

Shawn really hasn’t been inside at all. Or eaten basically anything. Or had any water. Unfortunately that’s not off-brand for him lately. But it means he hasn’t seen her since 9am.

He missed her.

She lifts and drops a shoulder, stirring the noodles so they don’t clump like he always used to forget to do. “It was fine.”

Shawn waits. She doesn’t owe him any more, but he hopes for it anyway.

She glances up at him. “Do you want half of this?”

He swears his growling empty stomach flops down onto his shoes. A combination of misplaced politeness and knee-jerk negative reaction to dairy drilled into him by Cez and Jocelyne have him shaking his head before he can think about it.

“That’s ok, I shouldn’t.”

Lilly snorts and Shawn goes stiff.

“Oh shut up and just take it.”

His chest deflates as he blinks, startled. He nods and nearly stumbles up to the bar to sit while she prepares it.

It takes him a strangely long time to notice that she’s playing music on her phone. He tilts his head and identifies it as a deep cut from Heavier Things by John Mayer. He wonders if he goes a little pinker.

She adds extra butter and shredded cheddar to the macaroni. He tries not to consider what eating this much shitty processed cheese for the first time in months will do to his body. He’s grateful that his bathroom is a whole house away from hers.

Lilly prepares their bowls in silence, holding up her trusty Old Bay seasoning as an offering that he politely refuses with a timid smile. If he’s not delusional from low blood sugar and dehydration, she smiles a little bit too.

Lilly rounds the counter to sit beside him at the bar. The whole right side of his body tingles in response to her closeness. His heart rate lifts, his fingers reach for his spoon to stir faster, needing something to do. And then just before she sits, her phone rings.

She checks the caller and looks up at him semi-apologetically.

“Sorry, it’s my mom.”

Lilly wanders away, phone to her ear, bowl in her hand. 

Shawn drags his spoon through the cheese sauce she got so remarkably smooth. He eats every bite. It might be the best mac and cheese he’s ever had.

+

The master bedroom is located at the end of a long hallway that creaks and crackles charmingly with the age of the house. Shawn doesn’t really notice it when he’s walking from one end of it to the other, but he does when it’s her.

He’s feeling sorry for himself, his new not-favorite pastime, staring at his phone in partial darkness in the wide open sitting room adjacent to his bedroom. The sun set ten minutes ago, the world outside is blue. The white carpet below his bare, dirty feet is kind of blue too. His guitar sits in the corner, shunned and untouched.

The footsteps feel like a phantom sensation at first, but he doesn’t have long enough to think about it before she walks around the corner into the room. She doesn’t hesitate, she doesn’t slow down.

She’s in a heavy oversized sweater and sleep shorts holding a bottle of red and two glasses. She lifts an eyebrow and shrugs. Shawn wants to cry.

He nods at her and sits up, hoping he looks more welcoming than despondent. He tries a smile. She chuckles and sits at his feet, cross-legged, and opens the screw top bottle.

“Please stop looking at me like I might slap you at any moment.”

Shawn clicks his tongue nervously. “I wouldn’t blame you if you did.”

She ignores his comment and passes up his glass by the stem. He’s careful to take it by the bowl despite how badly he wants to touch her fingers. She sits back with her own and looks up at him steadily for the first time since she got here.

“Cheers. We’re lucky. Really lucky.”

Shawn matches the way she raises her glass, then he drinks, raking a hand through his sticky hair.

She’s right, of course. He realizes he hasn’t thought about it much since he got back to LA. Getting to her and then getting her safe was his singular focus, which as he thinks about it now, is extraordinary privilege. He feels gross all of a sudden for how little consideration he’s given everything, everyone else.

Another failing to choke down.

“Are you ok?”

Shawn blinks. He looks down at her. She’s staring up at him, head tilted like a cocker spaniel, glass sitting between her fingers. He looks at them instead of her face.

“Yeah. Just tired.”

Another lie to choke down.

Lilly takes a big sip. “You look like you’re doing the self-flagellation thing.”

“What self-flagellation thing?”

He doesn’t know if it’s more bullishness or true curiosity driving him to ask.

“You’ve got this look on your face like you’re recreating the “Stitches” video in your own head.”

It startles him into laughing. She doesn’t laugh with him.

“I don’t know. I feel like I should be ok. I don’t have a reason not to be.”

She seems to consider him for a few moments. She takes another sip. Shawn looks down. His glass is empty. Lilly notices and refills it.

“Not like I do, you mean?”

That feeling in Shawn’s chest that first showed up when he confronted her at her house is back. It’s like a tiny pebble is clogging an artery, or something. Everything feels a little stuck and he’s not even mad because he probably deserves it.

He exhales a shaky breath and brings his hand through his hair again. “I dunno.”

This second wishy-washy answer isn’t what she wanted. She hardens. “I want you to know, I want you to understand that I was fine. I am fine. I do appreciate the rescue but I didn’t need… closure.”

The pebble fucking grows.

“Closure?” he nearly chokes.

“That feels like the only sane reason you insisted on coming to see me.”

It’s pointed. Her pretty gunmetal blue eyes are solid. Her lips have gone tight around the corners. It’s a clear warning.

His eyes drift shut in a heavy blink. He takes another sip.

“I feel like… for as often as I’ve thought about talking to you about this, I should know what I want to say. But I still don’t.”

Lilly sighs and drains her glass, refilling it. “Keep drinking, you’ll figure it out.”

Shawn looks down at his and finishes it. Lilly refills it.

He studies the way her legs fold beneath her, and the white casts of stretch marks visible against her inner thighs, the ones he used to trace with his tongue, nose, fingers. He recognizes the sweater she’s wearing. It’s so big it pools around her wrists even where she’s rolled it up. She got it in college at Goodwill for $5. It used to be her favorite piece of clothing. He wonders if it’s been replaced.

With a lurch of his already sensitive stomach, he wonders if he has, too.

“Have you dated anyone?”

Her nose wrinkles distastefully and he sees the misstep he’s made too late, like a pile of dogshit.

“Seriously?”

“Sorry, sorry. Fuck. You’re right, I’m sorry. It’s not my business.”

She raises her eyes to the ceiling and shakes her head. He feels thoroughly chastised. He thinks maybe she’ll just get up and walk away. He dreads that and craves the punishment of it in equal measure.

“It’s not that.”

His brow furrows. She can still surprise him.

“What is it?” he whispers.

Her nose twitches. “I just… I wasn’t ready. I wasn’t interested. I didn’t want anyone else.”

He goes so warm all over, a sensation he distantly remembers but is sure he doesn’t deserve.

After a moment, Shawn climbs down from his chair and takes the bottle, filling his glass. He sits in front of her. It’s not six feet away, it’s not even close. He’ll move if she asks.

“I thought I had to know why. It was the thing that had me a heartbeat away from calling you a dozen times. I thought if you could just tell me why you loved her more, I could get over it faster,” she muses.

Shawn holds his breath while she speaks to her dwindling glass.

“But more than that I wanted to hold onto my pride. I wanted my last words to you to be those, what I said before you left that night. That won, I guess.”

She’s quiet for almost a minute.

“Do you remember what I said?” she asks.

He says “yes” quietly and doesn’t add that those moments are seared indelibly in his memory -- her face, her breath, her tone, every word exactly as she delivered them. It’s the stuff of his regular nightmares.

She huffs and smiles, but it’s dark. “It didn’t even work. I never got to hate you, even as badly as I wanted to. I think I’ve loved you too much to ever hate you.”

Shawn’s head feels light from the booze and the lack of oxygen he’s allowing it from refusing to breathe.

“I thought it was a curse, maybe. Especially because for a while I couldn’t even look at pictures of you with her. I’d get all panicked and distracted, even in public. But lately, like in the last… I dunno, three months? It got a lot easier. I don’t know why. There never seemed to be a trigger for healing, but it felt like it started finally after waiting around for it forever. And now we’re here and I don’t know what kind of mark this will leave.”

She’s speaking easily, matter-of-factly, but he thinks he knows her well enough to feel what’s beneath it. He could always tell exactly how she was feeling, even when she didn’t want him to.

Shawn clears his throat twice before attempting to speak, but his voice still sounds broken and shredded. “There was so much I wanted to say to you after I left. But… the biggest thing, the thing that bothered me the most, the part I fucking hated, is that you wondered if I felt like I was settling with you, that I was waiting around for her consciously when I was with you. I… I never felt that way. I wanted you. I was so crazy about you. I really fucking loved you.”

The past tense hurts to say out loud, like he’s spitting glass. Lying to her disgusts him, but he thinks it’s the first unselfish thing he’s done in months. She doesn’t want to hear that he still loves her. Even if he thinks he always will. It’s not the time. So he swallows it.

She looks interested, convinced maybe. She finishes her glass and pours herself more, topping up his glass with the rest of the bottle.

“I had myself convinced I didn’t need to hear that.”

A flare of unfamiliar pride glimmers in his chest. He did something good. He said something that helped. Maybe he’s not as miserable a bastard as he thought.

“It’s true,” he assures her, feeling bleary from the wine but absolutely certain.

“I think I knew,” she admits, stretching out her legs so her feet sit beside him. He forces himself not to look at her soft, shapely thighs, “Because… it was really good for a while.”

But she’s always surprising him. Out of seemingly nowhere, Lilly’s chin wobbles. She claps a hand over her mouth to cover a harsh, sobbing inhale. Shawn’s blood runs cold.

“Lilly,” he breathes, blinking quickly, “Lilly, I’m so sorry.”

Her eyes go sort of green when she cries. Shawn hates that he knows that. He wishes he knew everything about her but that.

Without thinking, without breathing, without another word, Shawn leans forward and gets as far as brushing his lips across hers before she springs back and stares at him like he’s just screamed in her face.

“What the fuck?”

“Oh god,” Shawn spews, “Oh god, fuck, I’m sorry. Oh fuck, I’m so sorry. Lil, fuck, shit, I didn’t-- oh god--”

As he garbles his way through apologies, Lilly leaps to her feet and leaves without another word. Shawn lurches in her direction like he wants to catch her but doesn’t fully commit. He hears himself continuing to mumble hopelessly until her quick footsteps are too far away to hear the creaking protests of the old house.

Shawn lets his body drop to the carpet beside the empty wine bottle. He releases a shaky breath and lifts the heels of his hands to his eyes, pressing in when the tears come. He doesn’t know why he’s crying. He shouldn’t be allowed. He should be forced to keep this feeling bottled up, to live with it -- live with knowing he made her uncomfortable. He forced himself on her. He kissed her when she didn’t want him to. There should be no relief from that.

But it only makes him cry harder.

----------

I can only hope you’ve been inundated with these links the last few days, but just in case you haven’t, here they are. Please visit them and give what you can, be it time, consideration, or money. Let’s affect some fucking change, shall we?

Minnesota Freedom Fund

George Floyd’s Family’s GoFundMe

Color of Change Petition

----------

Taglist: @smallerinfinities​ @the-claire-bitch-project @achinglyshawn​ @infiniteshawn​ @mendesoft​ @singanddreamanyway​ @alone-in-madness​ @abigfatmess​ @shawnitsmutual​ @awkwardfangirl2014​ @september-lace​ @sinplisticshawn​ @rollingxstone​ @randi-eve​ @fallmoreinlove @heyits-claire​ @itrocksmysocks​ @parkerspicedlatte​ @simpledomain​ @abeautiful-and-cloudy-day​ @thecurlsofgod​ @magcon7280​ @bensbuttercup​ @shawnsmusical​ @paigeasourous​ @tell-me-when-ur-ready​ @softmendesss​ @searchingunderthestars​ @buggy-blogs​ @mendesficsxbombay​ @siennarossi​ @lostinshawnsmemory​ @umbreakablesoul​ @sleepybesson​ @shawnsheaven @shaawnie @shawn-youth​ @graysonmendes​

[writerfangirlbooks]

Bobby’s Daughter Part 2

Prompt: Imagine flirting with Dean Winchester before he finds out you're Bobby Singer's daughter Part II: Imagine flirting and taking things to the next level with Dean before finding out one another's identity at Bobby's birthday party 

A/N: Or something like that! Hahaha. I'm back in college now for the next few months. I've got this story plot lined up and ready for action so be prepared for mostly Dean and Bobby's daughter for a while, but I'm still open for requests. I have some that keep getting lost that I continue to search for. Hope you are doing well! Long live Supernatural!  Word Count: 2200ish

Credit to gif owner!

Not enough hours later, you woke up.

An arm draped over your stomach sent all of last night's memories flooding back, explaining a few new certain aches and pains. You felt the need to roll over and stretch though it seemed your body was snug where you lay and prevented any movement. That didn't stop the man next to you, however. Dean must have sensed you shift because his hand moved lower down. You watched him go through the phases of waking from a hookup. First is the unknown, a sense of calm before trying to decipher your surroundings. Next was replaying the night's events. Lastly could be one of two things. Either an additional hookup or try to find yourself a less than an awkward excuse to leave.

Another hour later, you were leaving the shower and heard Dean call out with regret twinging in his voice. "Hey, sweetheart, I got a call and have to head out. I left my number on the desk." His voice trailed off as you stepped into the bedroom, the towel stuck to your drying skin. His eyes trailed your body, a light blush on his cheeks as remnants from the late night and early morning. Dean's voice was noticeably more hoarse when he spoke again after clearing his throat. "Well, I sure would enjoy seeing you again..."

"As you said, I have your number. I've got plans for the next couple of days, but we'll see if fate brings us to the same place and time once more," you said. You gave him a reassuring smile and a wink before walking to the closet for some clothes. Dean chuckled and he moved to be next to you. He drew you in for a deep kiss. The two of you parted once a car horn honked from outside. The ghost of the kiss hovered at your lips as his warmth left.

That was probably the best and strangest one-night stand you've ever had. Whether or not the phone number was for another hookup or a real date, you were inclined to call. You peeked out the window and saw Dean getting in the passenger's side of the car you were introduced to last night. You smiled to yourself as you got dressed, focusing on the events for the next few days. You grabbed one of your favorite travel shirts and baseball caps, a look your dad favored. Doing busywork was sure to get your mindset back on track.

You drove to the grocery store and mindlessly strolled down the aisles, adding veggies and meats to your basket. You grabbed a couple of birthday pies, a card, and a couple of gifts. You saw the local sheriff, Jodi Mills, and felt a pang of empathy. She had recently lost her family. She was on the phone as she walked to the back of the store. You made sure to add some beer and margarita mix to the cart before heading to the checkout. Once you had it ready, you figured mid-afternoon would be the best time for the surprise and headed to his house, parking in the back near the garage. You grabbed the bags and keys to get inside the house.

Inside the house was quiet except an old western movie playing on the television. You set the bags down with a thud on the kitchen table and heard a holler. "What in-" Your dad's voice rang out. You laughed quietly before raising your voice, alerting him to your presence.

"It's me!" You yelled with a laugh. Bobby huffed and took his hat off before placing it back again, though he was smiling. He dropped his shotgun, setting it against the doorframe. The pair of you embraced quickly and happily. "How are you doing, old man?"

"Well, I'm still kicking, so there's that. Glad to see you," he said. "What are you going here? Not that I'm complaining." Bobby walked over and saw the beer box, eagerly grabbing it and setting it in the fridge. You began to take out the foods and place them along on the countertop, re-energized.

"Your birthday is coming up, so I figured I would hang around for a while, spend some time with you," you told him. You hiked the collar of your jacket up in order to hide the red spots on your shoulder and collarbone. Your dad began to help you, mostly focused on the desserts. You grabbed the bag that had his gift, patted him on the back, and skipped off to one of the rooms to hide it. When you returned, the veggies were already in a bowl and the stove was on.

"How nice of you to clear your very busy schedule to hang out with this ol' man," he remarked sarcastically. You heard a car pull up to the front yard and beep. You turned curiously towards your dad.

"You know I always have time for you. Funnily enough, I think there's a case nearby. Who's out front?" You asked, trying to see past the window curtains. Bobby glanced around but didn't seem surprised.

"Did you find somewhere to stay or are you wanting to stay here? You know I'm always happy to have you. And out there? It's just some kid hunters I help on cases, they spend lots of time here. Surprised you all haven't been here at the same time before. Would you go get the spatulas from upstairs and the oldest edition of the vampire encyclopedia from the bookshelf in your old room?" Bobby questioned.

You let out a scoff of a laugh. "Sure thing. Glad I bought extras!" You went to your room first and spent some time searching for the book. It appeared the room had been reorganized quite a few times over the past decade. You gazed around, noticing your first hunting knife, and even some of your report cards. You could tell you weren't the last one to sleep in this bed, however. You could hear footsteps enter the house and two voices call for Bobby, the deepness causing you to realize they weren't actually kid hunters, which were teens usually on the run looking for fights. Once you finally found the book, you headed upstairs in search of the spatulas. There were way too many random boxes and shelves to search through. You wondered why there weren't any in the kitchen already.

Surprisingly, you could smell the food cooking downstairs and it made you realize how much time you had spent searching. Another fifteen minutes later, you doubted the spatulas would be of much use if the food was nearly ready. You moved back to the top of the stairwell and could hear the conversation. At first, a voice you didn't recognize sped adamantly through their findings. Bobby interrupted, focusing on the subject of food, and asked the other to let find his daughter and let you know that dinner was almost ready. The lower voice obliged and you could hear him heading your way. Your hair fell down your face as you began to head down the stairs. Moving it behind your ears, you glanced up and stilled, not even halfway down.

Standing at the bottom was Dean.

His mouth was parted in surprise. Green eyes gazed up at you, wide with disbelief. You stared for a few more moments before quietly walking down and past with a smirk. He lightly pulled you back before you made it out of the hallway.

"Wait a second. You're Bobby Singer's daughter?" Dean asked, almost in awe. His arm was still touching yours.

"Looks like I should have called sooner," you responded. Searching his face for his thoughts did not work as expected. He was confused more than anything, but the light behind his eyes hadn't changed.

Dean ran a hand through his hair and let his arm fall to his side. He glanced around to see if Bobby or the person with him were coming. When it was clear they weren't, Dean turned back to you, unsure of what to do. Once again, another first for him, you were sure. His tongue ran involuntarily over his lower lip and you took that as your cue to wrap your hands around his neck and press your lips to his. His hands gripped your waist, pulling you close. All too soon, the two of you stepped away and headed into the kitchen where you saw a tall man with long hair setting plates on the dining table. Bobby glanced up from the sink.

"There you are, Y/N. I'm hoping Dean was at least half a gentleman and bothered to introduce himself. This is Sam, his brother. You might remember their dad, John Winchester. Now, let me see that book," your dad requested.

You took a small breath and smiled at your dad, passing him the book. "Yeah, uh, Dean introduced himself." You cast him a glance and he seemed to be looking anywhere but at you. You turned to the brother.

"Hi, Sam. Nice to meet you. I'm Y/N," you said. He gave you a polite smile and shook your hand.

"So what's the occasion?" Sam asked. He cleared his throat and gestured at the table.

You raised your eyebrows and turned to Bobby who gave a slight shake of his head. You frowned and faced the brothers, sharing with them that your dad's birthday was in a few days, so you were making a celebratory dinner. Bobby huffed and grumbled under his breath before grabbing the main course and setting it on the frequently unused table. The table technically could have seated six, but as there were four of you, the brothers sat together across from you and Bobby. Despite Dean's glances your way, he stayed relatively quiet as you ate, letting the others focus on the case. Dean's foot accidentally nudged yours, leading to a silent game of footsies. Sam and Bobby were distracted by trying to find the proper spell to undo whatever was going on. You weren't as interested in hunting at this very second. At one point, a sauce was spilled on the page the guys were reading. All at once, they began to apologize.

"No worries, I know how to clean it," you said, carefully grabbing it and heading to the bathroom for the cleaning supplies. Dean excused himself to help search and followed you into the bathroom.

"Pardon me, sweetheart, but what the hell is going on?" He asked softly, still bewildered by the discovery. The door was wide open and you two had a small view of the kitchen though they couldn't see in. You sighed and crouched below the sink to find the proper supplies. It seemed things were rearranged every time you were here.

"You're going to need to be more specific," you said into the drawers.

"How are you Bobby Singer's daughter? I knew he had a kid, but... And no disrespect to the old man, but you are much hotter than he is," Dean admitted. You found what you were looking for and which each object, handed it to Dean, who stared at each one uncertainly.

"Dean, both of these things are very simple. Cleaning this book is easier than changing a tire. Just pour a small bit of the white bottle onto the towel, mix it with the other one, then dab at it and wipe. For the other thing, a long time ago, Bobby and Karen got married and decided to cons-" Dean cut you off, trying to hide a smirk as he followed your instructions.

There was an outline of the liquid left on the page, but after a little more work it eventually disappeared, and the rest would dry soon, you decided. Dean said, "I know how people are created, Y/N, no need to be cute. I guess I'm just surprised that you're a hunter, more so after our talk last night, and especially after how Bobby always praised his kid's good work in school."

The two of you were standing very close in this small bathroom that now reeked of cleaning supply and you wanted to leave the room, but not the moment. Dean began to put the objects away once you confirmed the book was clean. "I'm always cute, Dean. And sure, I did well in school. Why make life harder than necessary? I use what I was taught to make money when I'm not hunting, but it's clearly in my blood, and I wouldn't have it any other way."

Dean appeared taken aback. "Whoa, I didn't mean to offend you. I'm sure you're a great hunter. And an honest living? Admirable, seriously."

He leaned over and gave you a quick peck on the cheek. "Let's get back before they get suspicious and Bobby tries shooting me."

You only laughed in response.

- 

Wattpad/Pinterest: writerfangirlbooks

Tags: @akshi8278​ 

[kyber-kisses]

Too Soon (Part 1)

Dean Winchester x Reader

A/n: This is my rewritten/edited part one to Too Soon! Since Season 15 is coming back soon I thought I would go through and edit the chapters. I hope y'all enjoy! ( Also I will only be tagging the spn taglist for the first part, as not to annoy some people. If you want to be updated on this series just send me an ask!)

Warnings: Worried!Dean, character death, season 14 spoilers.

Summary: When the reader is suddenly killed by Jack, a series of events unfolds that leaves both the alive and the deceased stunned.

“Hello Y/N, my name is Jessica.”

The voice was sudden, making you whirl around on the spot, hands reaching for your gun purely out of instinct. Your eyes instantly locked on a lone female before you, eyebrows knotting together in confusion. Just a moment ago you had been talking to Jack.

Now. . .well now he was nowhere to be seen.

“Forgive me for asking but where the hell did you come from?” You questioned, taking a step closer to the unknown woman.

“I’m a reaper. I’m here to lead you to your next life.”As she said it, you could see a gentle smile slip onto her face, for an instant you swore you caught a hint of sadness or pity hidden within her eyes as well. You took a step back, mind reeling with the answer she had just given you.

“That- that can’t be right. Because if that were true. That would mean- that would mean I’m dead. And I-I can’t be dead.” You stumbled over the words, trying desperately to make sense of what was happening.

No. No you couldn’t be dead. That didn’t make sense.

“I’m sorry. I understand that you're shock.” Jessica stepped forward, reaching out her hand, waiting patiently for you to take it, clearly prepared to take you through the veil-- But you didn’t notice. Your mind was trying to piece together what had happened.

Jack. You had been talking to Jack. He was upset and angry and you had been trying to calm him down. He was yelling, god he was yelling so much- and then there was a blast.

Blast.

“Oh god.” Your hand flew to your mouth as your mind caught up to you. You knew deep down Jack never meant to hurt you, but you also knew he could still be unpredictable at times. You felt the burn of oncoming tears in your eyes as your body sunk the the ground, heels pressing hard into the eye sockets.

Fuck, fuck, fuck-

Your head was spinning at a million miles an hour until it hit a brick wall of one solid thought that towered above all the rest.

Dean. Oh no, Dean didn’t know. Neither did Sam or Cas. A choked sob left your lips as the tears finally spilled over your lashes. That one person repeatedly flashing in your mind. Dean. You had known him practically all your life, and loved him for at least half of it. You always told yourself that one day you would tell him. Except now with your current situation, that was clearly never going to happen.

Dean. Dean with his big green eyes, and freckled splashed face,Dean with his dumb jokes and secretly dorky personality.  There were so many things you loved about that man, from the way he laughed to the terrible jokes he cracked and everything in between. His rare but big smile and his even bigger heart. You were never supposed to fall in love with your best friend, but its a difficult thing not to do when that person was Dean.

You flinched slightly when Jessica knelt down in front of you, forgetting the reapers presence.

“Don’t worry. He loved you too, and for a very long time I might add.”

You looked up into Jessica’s eyes, your own slightly glazed with confusion.

“How do you know?” the question leaving your lips in barely a whisper as you fought to ignore the hot tears trekking down your face. Jessica stood up, waiting for you to rise to her level.

“I’ve been watching over you and the Winchester’s for a long time. I pay attention.” She smiled. You nodded, immediately seeing that she was telling the truth. She reached out her hand again.

“Are you ready to go?”

Ready to go? That was such a heavy question. You had never exactly feared death. In truth it was just another beginning, right? You paused, thinking it through. There was nothing else for you to do here. You couldn't just stride back into the land of the living and back to your life and family. The only option was to take her outstretch hand.

“As long as you promise to do something for me.” You stated firmly, sliding your hand into hers before rising to your feet with a shaky breath.

“Of course. Anything.” She smiled. You nodded again, finally accepting your fate you reached out and took her hand.

*. *. *. *.

Dean knew something was wrong the moment you didn’t pick up your phone. You were the type of person to always answer no matter what. It was a rarity if you didn't answer. So when the phone went through its cycle of rings eventually getting to your voicemail, he took a deep inhale to calm himself.

“Hello, you have reached the voicemail of Y/N Y/L/N. I’m sorry I didn’t answer your call. I’m just waiting for more important people to call. If I hear your message and deem you worthy or the title “important,” I will think about calling you back, but for now. Bye!”-Beep-

Lowering his phone from his ear, Dean looked down at the screen, your profile picture staring brightly up at him. Your face scrunched as you stuck your tongue out. In any other occasion he probably would have smiled, but instead he just let out a light “Damn it-” before slipping it back into his pocket.

He hated that you had ventured out alone to go find Jack. He should have gone with you. He should have dropped everything and just gone with you. Now you could be in trouble and in need of assistance. What if you were injured . . .or worse?

The Winchester brothers then proceeded to launch into action the moment they agreed something was not right. They had Rowena going through every page of the Book of the Damned looking for a tracking spell, and Cas was trying to find Jacks last known whereabouts.

“Anything?” Dean huffed, momentarily stopping his continuous pacing to look over at his brother, who was currently hunched over his laptop trying desperately to track Jacks phone. They had tried tracking yours earlier, only to find your phone sitting on one of the vacant tables in the library untouched and almost out of battery . He expected Sam to respond with yet another Nope but was surprised when he heard something else.

“Dean, check this out.” Sam swiveled his laptop around to face him, pointing at Jacks icon.

“Wait- is he flying?” The two brothers watched as the icon pinged to another location, and then another before landing firmly on an empty area in Nebraska. After a minute of no change, Dean was rushing towards the door, wrapping his jacket around him and grabbing the keys to the impala.

Sam knew there was no holding his brother back, especially when it came to your safety. The younger Winchester exhaled before slamming the laptop shut and following the fading heels of his brothers boots.

*. *. *.

Dean had practically been white knuckling the steering wheel since he slipped into the drivers seat. He was silently trying to calm himself down, but it just wasn’t working.

You were fine. You were fine. You were safe and alive and completely out of harms way. You were fine.

“Oh crap.” Sam's sigh of frustration yanked Deans eyes away from the road.

“What?” His voice thick with worry as he watched his brother flick through his phone.

“I lost Jacks signal. His phone must have died.”

The older Winchester let out a string of curses before slamming his foot harder on the gas. And with that a two hour drive was cut down to a smooth 45 minutes.

Dean immediately made out your car when the slowly pulled to a stop at the end of the old dirt road the gps had sent them down, the vehcile parked alone in front of an old run down cabin. The impala had barely been put into park before the older Winchester was launching himself out of his seat and running foreword, flashlight in hand.

“You go inside, I’ll check around back.”

“Got it.”

It didn’t take long for Dean to find something out of the ordinary, as he stepped through the trees his eyes widened, jade irises filled with confusion and worry. He didn’t have to call for Sam before he heard the loud footsteps running towards him. No words were exchanged as Dean knelt down, running his fingers along the earth, pulling up ash. The light of their flashlights panning over the charred and blackened earth that stretched out for several yards.

Dean needed to find you, and quickly . . .

(A/N: if you would like to be added to my slowly growing Too Soon Taglist, feel free to send me a message or ask!)

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[themockingcrows]

Home Run Movie Night

Davepetasprite/John This is NOT SFW! AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25475938 cw: nooks and bulges, nook eating, nook fingering, anal sex, interspecies sex, First Time, bodily fluids, sloppy makeouts

After a delightful first date (Second Base Desserts), the plan had been made for a movie night. Though now that the movie is playing and the scene is set, it's not nearly as important as the attractive sprite that's already got a plan of their own in mind!

     Popcorn? Check.

     Soda? Check.

     Movies? Double check, he had them in spades thanks to his previous years of collecting only the finest in cinematic entertainment.

     Comfy spot? He’d made a blanket fort earlier, encasing the television area in sheets and blankets and pillows aplenty so it was soft and cozy to cuddle up in. And probably to make out in, if he was being honest and hopeful.

     Everything else…? A bit of a tossup. While John didn’t want to be presumptuous, his time in the scouts as a young child and being his father’s son had entangled within him a strong sense of preparedness. After the intensity of his date with Davepeta before, the grinding, the making out, he had no idea when the time would be right to go further beyond that. Supposedly when the time was right he’d know, but what about being prepared? He had some lube, and some condoms but there was a problem.

     What kind of genitals did Davepeta even have…? Did they need something special for them? What anatomy was going to be worked with? Did they both need condoms? Were sprites able to get pregnant or anything? To add to the mystery, there was bird DNA and troll DNA at work as well, so who the fuck even knew what all there was in play. Maybe, just like the rest of the sprite, it’d be something one of a kind and special only to them. Which was all well and dandy but it really fed into his lingering anxiety about what to anticipate. It was like a really sexy Christmas present lurking under his tree, waiting for the eventual day that he might get to peek inside of it and see what had been teasing him for so long.

     Would it be like his daydreams of the last few weeks since their date? Though even that data was limited. He registered warm and soft and wet but as soon as he tried to see what he was dealing with down there his mind blanked out and focused on remembering their face instead. Which was nice, considering it had been what had driven him crazy to begin with, but not the nicest when he was trying to think of different things while getting himself off. Fap fodder was plenty with his imagination normally when he needed it, but the specifics of the sprite eluded him as much as a fae on a summer’s night.

     John paced his living room double checking everything for the fourth time before the doorbell rang, making him jump out of his skin and scramble around the corner at breakneck speed. He froze in front of the door, collected himself, smoothed his hair back, checked his breath and finally opened up with a grin.

     Perfect.

     They were absolutely perfect, even dressed down casual, and John couldn’t wrap his fucking head around how it was even possible. Davepeta was wearing some basketball shorts that hung loose around their muscular thighs, flip flops, and a baggy tie dye t-shirt that complemented their opalescent skin. They also, John realized after the initial hug of greeting, weren’t wearing a bra this time. Absolute comfort was in mind here obviously, yet John couldn’t forget the feeling of their breast from their date or the way their lips tasted.

     Today they tasted like iced mocha and caramel sauce when they kissed him, taking their time in the greeting before pulling back with a curled grin.

     “Thanks for having me ofur today, John. I’m sure we’ll have an ameowzing time!” they said excitedly, wings ruffling in excitement before folding against their back.

     “If I’ve got anything to say about it, it’ll be ama- uh. Ameowzing,” John said, gesturing grandly for his datemate to enter. Datemate? Were they dating now? He’d never officially asked, and Davepeta never mentioned it, but this was two dates in now so… probably? Maybe?

     Fuck, why did he overthing so many things at the worst possible time.

     “Ohhhh shit look at this, you really purrpared didn’t you!” Davepeta said, kicking off their sandals before racing to the pillow fort, leaning down to peer inside. “Wow, there’s even light inside…”

     “Yeah, I don’t want to toot my own horn here but I’m a pretty much a pillow fort master,” John said, thumbs hooking into the front of his own t-shirt as if he were holding suspenders. He caught side of Davepeta’s tail disappearing into the canopied space before dropping the act with a laugh and following them inside. Davepeta had already secured a comfortable spot near the snacks, curling up on their side in view of the television while leaving plenty of space for John to nestle good and close. Presumably, based on the fact one hand was patting the pillowy ground invitingly, he was indeed meant to be that close.

     The first movie was selected by John, Davepeta too busy giggling at all the choices and saying they sounded terrible to be of much assistance, but they didn’t wind up watching much of it. Ten minutes in and there was a hand on John’s thigh, kneading at the flesh rhythmically and distracting him. Fifteen in and Davepeta had crawled onto part of his lap, resting their head on his thigh. Twenty, and Davepeta was settled on their back on John’s lap like a cat who’d successfully snuck onto a comfy spot, and at some point after that they’d started to kiss and he lost all track of time. Who needed time when someone this attractive wanted to lock lips with you? They could always watch the movie over again, but for now it made for a nice background noise in the cozy nest he’d made.

     “Did you miss me?” they breathed against his mouth.

     “Of course I did, it’s just not the same without you around,” John admitted, stroking at their bright hair, the strands aglow with neon hues. 

     “Did you think about what we did before?” they teased, that predatory grin sliding so easily across their face that John had to flush and bite his lip. Of course he’d thought about it. He’d thought about it daily. Nightly. It was impossible to not hyper-focus on, being a first of its kind for him.

     “Yeah. A lot,” John said, trailing a finger from their hair to their delicately pointed ear, stroking along the point and the length of it till he was stroking the side of their face instead.

     “You know I’m not wearing a bra,” they said matter of factly, almost out of the blue were it not for the distinct link to their previous encounter. “But do you want to know a secret?”

     “Sure,” John said, throat feeling a bit tight. Okay, they were being pretty bold already, maybe more touching was in his future.

     Davepeta perched on their elbows and curled their long body upwards towards John’s ear, whispering a warm breath into it.

     “The panties match.”

     John’s throat ran dry. He swallowed once, twice, three times before he had enough saliva to do it properly, and then pulled back to look down at Davepeta on his lap. They were grinning and waggling their eyebrows playfully before breaking out into a laugh like bells, pushing up from their comfy spot on his lap to rise up onto their knees. Their palms soon rested on John’s knees, keeping him from adjusting his position as they leaned up to kiss him gently once more.

     “Do you want to see…?”

     “I.”

     “You?”

     “I uh. Y-. ...Yeah,” he finally got out, kicking himself mentally over and over for stammering. Stupid! Stupiiiiiiiid! You’re supposed to be suave and in control of the situation, or at least participating better! Where did all the preparedness go?

     “Let’s have some snacks and watch some of the movie, and we can play it like a game,” they suggested. “Every so often, I’ll ditch a piece of clothing, and you have to do the same. Eventually the whole kittenkaboodle’ll be gone.”

     “Wait, what?”

     Davepeta grinned that same calculating grin again, fangs glinting. “John, my end goal is to both be naked and the only reason I’m not taking it all off in one go is to see mew squirm a bit.”

     “Th-! That seems like cheating!” John said, mind racing. They weren’t wearing much to begin with. Naked. Both naked. Oh, God, was this really happening?

     “Seems pretty fair to the person only wearing two pieces of clothes. Here, I’ll start,” Davepeta said before reaching back behind themselves to tug at their shirt. John could hear the gradual give of velcro before the shirt was loosening and coming off. They held the loose fabric in front of their chest for a moment, eyeing John closely before letting it drop.

     Though John had only felt them previously, seeing was an entirely different prospect, and his hands dropped immediately to his lap to quell the response it invoked. Davepeta’s breasts were lovely, really, better than pictures of normal humans John had sneaked peeks of online. Part of it was because of the pearly sheen their skin had, highlights brighter and shadows softer, nipples perky in the cool air of the living room. Or were they like that because of what they were doing together...? The thought that, somehow, John was responsible for that perkiness was appealing.

     “Well?” Davepeta said, setting their shirt aside.

     “Well what,” John asked. Fuck, was he supposed to do something? His hands lifted and hovered as if he were going to grasp both breasts at once, but went no further. Something wasn’t connecting properly in his brain and he knew it, think think think Egbert come on!

     “Your shirt…?” Davepeta said. “Mew need to ditch yours too meow. Follow the leader, remember?”

     John’s face flared red before he scrambled to tuck his head down into his shirt like a turtle, hands rushing to the bottom to rip it up over his face and toss the bundled fabric aside. There wasn’t nearly as much of interest on John as Davepeta, thin chest flat, edges of his ribs visible. John had always hoped that someday he’d be as strong as his father, as wide, yet so far he hadn’t filled out like that. Muscle mass just wasn’t in the cards yet.

     Davepeta seemed comfortable being shirtless, which made sense considering half of their makeup was someone who’d been able to be shirtless any time he wanted in his life. ...Was Nepeta able to do the same? John didn’t understand a lot of things about trolls, maybe troll girls were able to go shirtless all the time too on Alternia. Was that a weird thing to ask? It was probably a weird thing to ask. And probably weirder that he couldn’t help but keep gawking over now and then at what rested above the popcorn. It was boobs John, grow up. It’s not like he’d never seen boobs before, he’d even felt them before!

     …

     Boobs.

     “Can we start the movie over?” Davepeta asked, reclining leisurely onto the blankets and cushions beside John after grabbing the popcorn bowl. They took a handful and fed a kernel at a time into their mouth, crunching idly. “I wasn’t paying attention before. Whoops.”

     “Uhm. Yeah,” John said, taking a few seconds too long to go and fetch the remote control, clicking back through the scenes to the beginning. What movie even was this? He had no interest in the film anymore, not so long as the sprite lay beside him half naked and tempting.

     What would happen if he just moved the popcorn bucket and rolled over on top of them for a kiss? Would they be happy? Annoyed? Would he ruin the mood, or make it even better? Augh, Davepeta was being a tease and this was so confusing to decipher! It didn’t help that every time he peeked over seemed to be the time Davepeta was casually eating popcorn and looking right back at him with a grin. They knew the power they held, and they were using every inch of it for evil it seemed.

     John reached for some popcorn, though he wasn’t in the mood for snacks anymore. All he wanted to do was kiss Davepeta again, and lose himself like he’d started to earlier. Or did he? After all, the sprite was only wearing shorts now. There was apparently nothing on underneath them. When those came off, Davepeta would be naked, and he’d be stuck in his underwear a bit longer unless he could man up enough to yank them down too. Or had Davepeta planned that as well?

     With thoughts running through his head, John barely even noticed at first when Davepeta’s hand crept back to his thigh and began to knead as the movie played. They spread their fingers out, feeling along the fabric of his pants now and then before curling up to squeeze repeatedly, working from his outer thigh to his inner thigh and-

     That was a hand on his dick. Oh, God, that was a hand on his dick and one glance down at Davepeta proved that it was entirely intentional and holy shit it felt nice. John bit his lip to keep quiet, not wanting to groan immediately, and closed his eyes instead. Don’t pop a boner. Don’t get a boner immediately. Come on, John, don’t get a boner immediately. Don’t. Do not. Resist. RESIST.

     He failed, and Davepeta’s grip grew gentler, a fond stroking through the fabric of his pants instead of the heavy kneading of before.

     Mercy?

     No. Not from the look on their face, it wasn’t. Davepeta was glancing at him from beneath hooded eyes, calculating, gauging his reactions to different pressure up till he started to softly pant. Only then did they remove their hand and set aside the popcorn bowl.

     Dry mouthed, John watched as Davepeta hooked their thumbs into the hem of their shorts and tugged downwards, exposing the flat, muscular plane of their stomach and abdomen, the crest of their hips, and…

     What was that.

     John squinted a bit, confused. At first glance, he thought he was dealing with a normal human vulva, albeit tinted shades of green and orange. Yet… the longer he looked at it, the more it appeared that something down there was moving.

     “Like what you see?” Davepeta asked, striking a pose as they dangled their shorts off one foot showily, the angle of their leg and thigh drawing John’s line of sight before it reverted back to the focus point of his interest. Yes, something was definitely moving down there, gently peeking out of their body as if it had a mind of its own before withdrawing once more.

     “I uhm. Well. Yes, just. ...Uh,” John stammered, not sure what to say. Davepeta was naked, of course he liked what he saw. He just. Didn’t know exactly what he was liking in that moment.

     Grinning broader, Davepeta suddenly rolled and settled half atop John’s torso, hands fussing at the front of his pants. “Your turn!”

     Wait, he was still hard. Oh, God, wait, he was still hard!

     A tussle, half wrestling half resisting later, and John was left in his underwear with his pants around his knees. Davepeta was settled astride his thighs proudly, tail whipping left and right over his shins, the top of their head propping up one of the droopier blankets of the fort. This wasn’t ideal. Or maybe it was, considering John had breasts in his face and a clearer view of what he’d been gawking at before.

     A tentabulge, he thought it was called. It sounded familiar at least. A slim tendril was shyly peeking out and feeling around Davepeta’s skin before sliding back into its bodily sheathe the longer John looked. A part of him had expected a humanoid dick considering Dave was involved, and he’d steeled himself for that, but this was definitely new. Prehensile and new. Intriguing. Shyly he reached a finger forward and watched as the reaching tendril wrapped around it for a moment before retracting again. He felt Davepeta shiver on his lap and bit his lip anxiously.

     Holy shit, this was really happening wasn’t it. His first time and it was going to be with some fairly alien equipment. A glance up towards Davepeta’s face made any apprehension disappear though. They were smiling at him lovingly, apparently glad that he approved of what he saw. Maybe even relieved. Had anyone else done anything with the sprite…? Was this a bit of a first for both of them?

     Without thinking, John reached up and hooked his arms around Davepeta’s narrow hips, resting his hands square on their ass for stability and for the chance to give a knead of his own. They hummed throatily and shuffled their wings before leaning forward, resting their arms around his neck.

     “Do mew have any idea how long I’ve wanted you to see me like this…?” they asked. “The only reason I didn’t jump you in the forest was because it felt better to wait. And look now! We’ve got a fort all our own!”

     John’s cuddle cave was apparently going to be used for much lewder purposes tonight, and all he could think in the moment was to praise himself for the lights and the television placement that kept the pale, pearly flesh in front of him in perfect lighting to savor and enjoy. They were warm beneath his hands and against his chest, and when they kissed him again it was sweet and tender.

     Shit, they’d really wanted this hadn’t they. Well. At least the feeling was mutual. Davepeta sank down so they were sitting on John’s thigh and he blinked in confusion when he felt something wet against his skin. Apparently the bulge wasn’t the only thing Davepeta was in possession of, though it took John an embarrassingly long time to try to remember the name he’d heard before for it. If this was a part of troll anatomy and not something entirely different, it was a nook, right? Was that the same as a vagina? Or entirely different? It was at an angle that John couldn’t exactly see it, only feel it against his thigh, which wasn’t enough.

     Davepeta seemed to read his mind, and kissed against his nape for a moment.

     “Would mew like to see what you’re dealing with…?”

     John swallowed briefly before giving an excited nod. Yes, he wanted to get a clear look. And maybe a touch. And maybe more. He’d seen porn before, yeah, and he had some ideas of what he wanted to do already on his own, but it all would depend on what there physically was on the field. What would feel good and what wouldn’t to them?

     If he could make Davepeta feel good, he’d call it a successful night.

     Scooting backwards and freeing John’s legs, Davepeta glanced to a free space on the pillow fort’s floor and took it, reclining carefully to avoid damaging their wings. They propped up on their elbows to watch John’s face before parting their legs and giving him a full view of their genitals, the bulge unfurling further than before in excitement. It coiled against itself, a shimmering green with orange highlights here and there along its length, and spread some kind of a liquid that John could only assume was similar to lubrication or pre-come. It had to be something after all, right? The nook rested below it, a much more benign and inactive opening that seemed to have traces of the same fluid from the bulge that restlessly coiled and reached above it. For a brief moment it looked as if the bulge was going to probe that nook on its own, and it was enough to snap John out of his stupor.

     This was real.

     Davepeta was naked in front of him, showing their most intimate parts, and he’d not even commented. Jesus, where were his manners. Fascination aside, he was grateful to be gifted like this in the first place. John cleared his throat and shucked his pants the rest of the way  before crawling closer to Davepeta’s legs, tracing a hand over their shin and calf a few times.

     “You’re gorgeous.”

     That seemed to be the right thing to say, judging from the neon glow of a blush that dusted their pearly cheeks.

     “Can I uhm,” he started, then took a breath and let it out. “...Can I touch you?”

     “I thought you’d never ask.”

     With permission obtained and Davepeta already parting their legs a bit further to accommodate him, John sank down to his elbows and scooted closer. He pressed a kiss to their thigh a few times, spangling their skin with it, before approaching the focus of his interest. The bulge was even larger than before, more of its girth emerging even as John drew closer, till it finally stopped and stood proudly on display.

     Davepeta was bigger than him, and while part of John was a little embarrassed about it, the realization was also… kind of hot? What would that feel like inside of him? Oh, fuck, was he honestly thinking about tackling that monster tonight? He reached a hand forward to gently grasp the bulge, taking in the slick texture of it, the tense coil that was all muscle grasping at him, feeling his fingers and palm. The sprite shivered again and curled their toes. ...Hmm, apparently he didn’t really need to do all that much to make it feel good.

     Yet, not satisfied with that alone, John leaned forwards bravely to give the bulge a lick. Oral was standard as foreplay, right? Touching and tasting was what he’d seen in porn, the fact it felt like something was trying to taste him back was just a bonus apparently. Whatever fluid coated it had a neutral flavor, the scent being entirely Davepeta in origin. It was kind of addictive really. John held still as the tentabulge stretched and reached for his face, feeling around wetly before he tipped his head and opened his mouth in offer.

     “A-ah!” Davepeta twitched harshly as John closed his lips, giving an experimental suck on the appendage. Eager, he tried to figure out how to allow more into his mouth, before having to yank back with a cough as the bulge headed straight for his throat.

     “Fuck,” he hissed.

     “Sorry,” the sprite mumbled, biting their lip. Shit. They looked almost shy like that, so different from their normal in-your-face attitude and existence. Loud and proud.

     “No, no, it’s okay. Let me just…” he murmured, wrangling the excited bulge with one hand and giving an experimental squeeze before dipping his head down lower to explore the nook with his tongue. A lick to the outside, a few flat lathes of his tongue, and he was pressing harder to breach the opening.

     Sweet. Sweet and moist and pliant, and oh God he could feel Davepeta’s thighs against his ears as their legs swung closer, squeezing at him encouragingly. He felt hands in his hair, combing gently, petting at him. He didn’t need to be told twice. Closing his eyes, John busied himself with Davepeta’s nook with his mouth and fingers of one hand while his other fist dealt with the muscular bulge, alternating between squeezing and just letting it explore and rub against his fingers.

     “John,” they crooned, voice sweet and higher than usual, breathy. “John, John, John, John…!”

     Apparently just feeling the situation out was the right thing to do. And honestly? He could get used to this. Every time he licked or probed with a finger, the sprite twittered and convulsed against him, squeezing his head with their thighs. Every time his fist moved they were trying to spread their knees apart, winding up in this rhythmic writhing motion that felt so natural John couldn’t imagine anything better.

     Eventually though, he pulled back to look up at Davepeta, up past their flat stomach and beautiful breasts to their upturned, breathless face. He just sat there a moment, taking it all in. Savoring it. Stamping it on a part of his brain that would never forget how that pearly skin looked with multicolored lights from a long forgotten movie flashing over it, how his name had sounded coming from their passionately parted lips.

     Beautiful. Handsome. Striking.

     Perfect.

     ...Mostly perfect. The situation did have one down side John realized, shifting till he was on his knees. His underwear was in the way, and by now was uncomfortable. A damp spot at the front of the tent showed the amount of restraint he’d had till now, finally wiggling them down and off. The relief he felt was immediate, making him wonder why he hadn’t ditched them sooner to join the sprite in the nudist party.

     Wait.

     Shit.

     Preparedness.

     This was the moment, wasn’t it? This was that moment where things went even further that he’d been warned he’d recognize, and now that he recognized it John didn’t know what to do. He looked from Davepeta to the makeshift doorway of the fort to the table drawer where a few things lay inside in waiting. Did he need any of the things in there? That bulge wouldn’t fit a condom, and it seemed to be making its own lubrication, but-

     “John,” Davepeta suddenly cooed, drawing his attention back. “You look like a deer in headlights.”

     “Sorry, I’m just… I don’t know what I need next,” he admitted. “I mean. Condoms and stuff. I don’t know.”

     “I can’t get pregnant,” Davepeta said. “At least I’m pretty sure I can’t. There’s too much blended up inside of me to manage that, especially when you add the game code in there. And trolls don’t work that way either. So I think we’re good on that front,” they promised, shifting their legs. John hadn’t noticed it till now, but the fluid the bulge was leaving behind had a faint green tint to it, as if a tiny drop of food dye had been placed in a bucket of liquid. “As for me needing something… all I need is mew.”

     Davepeta was up and moving again then, coming closer to John and placing a hand on his cock, hand giving a few strokes till he shuddered and twitched, more than willing to lay back when pressed. Their bulge snaked forward and wrapped around his length once they removed their hand and shuffled even closer, squeezing it like a python before beginning to wiggle excitedly, tip probing here and there to try finding a waiting nook instead of testes and a taint.

     “How uh-,” John started, only to be cut off when Davepeta kissed him, pressing their bodies against each other warmly and tangling their legs. There already seemed to be a plan in motion, he just needed to catch up with it and try to think of anything other than the bulge that was continuing to squeeze and writhe against his dick.

     Oh.

     Oh, okay, that was something he could think about.

     Being braver, John deepened the kiss and rolled Davepeta to their back once more, pressing them down. He felt their knees against his hips tighten and hold on, bulge squeezing harder along his dick. This might work. The bulge was long enough that it could probably reach his ass while he was exploring their nook. They could both enjoy themselves at the same time, right? Or would it have been easier to have them be reverse cowgirl..?

     No.

     This felt good, this felt right. The squeeze of legs at his hips, the encouraging scratch of nails against his upper back and between his shoulder blades, the warm press of their tongue against his own and the way they were already trying to grind together without words felt natural. John’s hips hitched briefly when the bulge unfurled from his length and went lower, squeezing at his testicles before slipping between his legs and probing at his entrance.

     “Take a breath,” Davepeta murmured softly when they felt John tense up, kissing him again till he relaxed.

     It wasn’t as bad as he’d worried it might be, not by far. Thanks to the gradual increase in size, the slickness, and the gentleness of the appendage, what started as a few slick passes over his hole soon gave way to what felt like a small finger, expanding upwards into something more arousing as he adjusted bit by bit to the intrusion.

     Davepeta moaned softly against his lips again, and John decided to make his move, hips rocking gently as he blindly probed a few times, missing the nook by a mile. The sprite reached down to grab hold of him and adjusted their bodies together, aligning him smoothly. The situation sank in again. A forgotten movie played in the background, some heroic line or another being said to an audience that had much better things on their mind. Popcorn rested in its bowl on a cushion nearby, clothes lay abandoned in piles, and two naked bodies rested in the center of a blanket fort that had been made with care.

     John held his breath and sank forward… and groaned with bliss as warmth enveloped his cock, the bulge pressing deeper at the same time and stiffening reflexively. They were plenty wet, allowing him to slide in bit by shaking bit as they continued to lazily kiss, the entire affair leisurely and sweet. When they were flush together, John went still to let the bulge probe deeper, giving a jerk when he felt the firm brush against his prostate. Radio static ran down his spine in a harsh tingle.

     “Keep doing that,” John gasped urgently against Davepeta’s lips as he shakily pulled his hips back and pressed forward again. A few steady times of this and John felt confident enough to start thrusting in a pattern, pace staggered occasionally as the bulge began to imitate him, withdrawing and thrusting deeper before squirming in place wetly.

     For all the times that John had imagined his first time, it had been nothing like this. He’d always imagined he’d wind up with some girl or another, that his first time would be in a bed, that he might even be married first in some cases. The living room floor was never going to be the same for him again. 

     Davepeta had begun to make needy, throaty sounds whenever the kisses broke, gasps and moans, soft cries. Begging. Their voice split occasionally, sometimes a bit lower like Dave’s and sometimes higher like Nepeta’s must have sounded like, sometimes two at once before blending back together properly to Davepeta’s usual range.

     John braced his legs and did the best he could do, hammering forwards and pulling back, trying to keep his movements smooth despite the assault against his prostate, fucking hard enough that Davepeta’s breasts bounced against his own chest hypnotically. They kissed messily, wetly. They bit. They scratched.

     Salty. Sweet. Bitter.

     “Horns,” they begged, rolling their head till John reached up and caught hold of them, bracing his weight on his elbows to accommodate the grab and hold maneuver, rubbing his thumbs along the ridges.

     The sprite tensed and babbled a warning against John’s mouth, too many words and not enough breath, but John couldn’t stop even if he wanted to right then. He bowed his head and thrust harder and faster, giving a guess as to what was coming.

     He wasn’t prepared.

     No sooner had John come with a strangled cry, Davepeta did the same. ...And they came. ...And came. ...And came.

     John felt fluid down his thighs and against his dick, felt Davepeta biting his lower lip and their knees squeezing his hips to trap him in place. No worries there, he was too sensitive to move anywhere fast, and even though the bulge had stilled it was still a firm presence in the back of his mind until it slowly withdrew. More wetness on his legs had John shakily propping up on his hands to glance down, taking in the green tinted mess on the pillows and sheets before he lay back down atop his datemate and sighed.

     “Is that normal? Like. Does that happen every time?”

     “It’s normal,” they promised, breathless, hands reaching up to toy with John’s messy hair, the tufts winding up even more wild thanks to their ministrations.

     He felt… the same. Somehow, John had assumed that losing his virginity would make him feel different. Instead, he just felt sticky and tired and warm and so full of love for the person beneath him that it felt like his heart was going to explode. John rolled to his side and pulled Davepeta with him, pulling one of their long legs up over his hips to stroke at while they lazily kissed at his face and lips, basking in afterglow together.

     The movie had reached its own climax apparently, but it was just noise. The popcorn lay abandoned, forgotten, the soda untouched. They had the entire night to themselves, with nobody to interrupt them.

     “...Wanna do it again?” Davepeta purred, smirking wickedly despite the tiredness.

     “Already?”

     “Yeah. I’ve gotten a taste of mew and I’m purroud to say I want more,” said the sprite, licking their lips. “Though this time… I want to be on top.”

     Dazed and still more than a little out of it, John could only nod. 

     Yeah. Sure.

     Why not.

     Sex was nice, he’d like more when his dick cooperated with him again.

     “You’re not letting me get any sleep tonight, are you,” John said, realization sinking in.

     “Nope.”

     “I’m gonna be sore tomorrow, huh.”

     “Purrobably,” they said, shifting their weight to get John onto his back, hands sliding along his chest and arms till they reached his wrists, pinning them down easily.

     “...Will it be worth it?” he asked, lips parting as the sprite leaned down for a kiss, licking his bottom lip playfully.

“Absolutely.”

[writer-k-pop]

Mornings (OT8)

굿 모닝. Good morning.

Description: Sharing a house with your 8 best friends means there’s never a dull moment. Though the toughest part is the mornings. Here’s why. Warnings: None Genre: FLUFF Word Count: 1.6k

Ateez Masterlist | Masterlists

Rolling out of bed, I rub the sleep from my eyes and blindly reach for the door. I find the door and wildly, without making too much noise, open it and head for the bathroom. The lights blind my sensitive eyes and I grumble in annoyance.

After finishing up in the bathroom, I head towards the kitchen to make breakfast for the others.

Flicking on the lights, I nearly jump out of my skin. San is laying face down on the floor, limbs spread out. His face is turned towards me, eyes closed.

“Good morning.” He states and smiles at me.

“What the heck, San?” I ask, a hand clutching my heart. “Why are you... there?” I finish, unsure of what to call what he’s doing.

“I woke up early and couldn’t go back to sleep,” San explains, sitting up. “So I came out here, then I got bored looking out the window so I laid down. Then you showed up.” He finishes happily now that he has a morning companion.

I nod and continue on my way to the kitchen. First thing’s first, I need coffee.

“What do you have planned for the day?” San follows me into the kitchen.

I load up the Keurig cup and place a mug underneath, “I have some work stuff to do and then I have to go grocery shopping. We’re running out of food.”

“Ooh,” San leans on the counter, “Can I come along?”

I nod, the extra hands would be helpful. “Do you have any plans?”

San shakes his head, “Nope. Oh, I mean I have to do laundry but that’s about it.”

“Sounds fun.” I murmur as the smell of coffee hits my nostrils.

Shuffling slippers against the hardwood brings my attention to the hallway. Hongjoong appears rubbing his eyes and his hair is a frazzled mess.

“Morning.” I greet him and he responds with a nod and grunt. I laugh and sip at my coffee, letting the caffeine jump start my systems. “Alright,” I breathe out, “What do I make for breakfast?” I mumble to myself and open the fridge.

Upstairs, more feet shuffle and doors open and close signalling the awakening of the others.

I pull out the leftover rice from the night before and throw it in the microwave for reheating. Pulling out several different side dishes, I mentally decide that rice, side dishes, and omelettes will do.

San has moved to the couch and is talking Hongjoong’s ears off about the dream he had last night. Seonghwa is the next to appear, he’s dressed for the day and any evidence of sleep is gone from his features.

I crack eggs into a large bowl as he enters the kitchen.

“Can I help with anything?” He asks, eyeing the side dishes sitting on the counter.

I nod, “Can you plate those and put them on the table? And can you get San to set the table? Hongjoong looks like he’s not hearing a word he’s saying.”

Seonghwa looks over and chuckles, “San.”

San pops his head from Hongjoong’s line of vision, “Yeah?”

“Can you set the table?” Seonghwa asks him, already plating the black beans.

Immediately, San is on his feet, “Yeah.”

“You couldn’t have waited two more minutes?” Wooyoung questions, his annoyance evident from downstairs. “You do know we have multiple bathrooms around the house.”

“This one’s my favorite.” Yeosang’s flat voice floats down the stairs.

I laugh visualizing Wooyoung rolling his eyes at Yeosang but ultimately letting him pass into the bathroom. After the eggs have been cracked and whisked, I pull out a pan and set it on top of the stove top. Looking at the eggs, something is missing.

“Here.” Seonghwa hands me the container of cut up green onions.

“Thanks.” I take the container and sprinkle the green onions into the eggs.

As the first omelette hits the pan, Yunho walks through.

“Something smells good.” He comments before moving to sit next to Hongjoong. His hair is wet from his shower and his cheeks still show his morning blush.

“It’ll be ready in like ten minutes.” I inform them. “Will someone go wake Jongho and Mingi?”

“I’m not going back up.” Wooyoung comments coming to sit at the table in the living room where San is setting up plates and silverware.

“Yeosang!” Yunho yells and poor Hongjoong flinches.

“What?!” Yeosang yells back as the microwave beeps. Seonghwa opens the door and fluffs up the rice before taking it over to the table.

“Wake the others!” Yunho demands.

“Why do I have to do it?!” Yeosang tries to deflect the duty.

“Cause you’re already upstairs!” Wooyoung stonewalls him.

Yeosang scoffs but I hear his feet travel to their rooms.

Smiling at the mess we are in the morning, I roll up the omelette and set it on the cutting board before pouring more eggs into the pan.

“Why are you so tired, Hongjoong hyung?” San asks, taking a seat next to Wooyoung.

I slice the omelette into pieces and set it on a plate that Seonghwa got out for me.

“He was out late again.” Seonghwa answers for him, crossing his arms across his chest, “Woke me up.”

“I did?” Hongjoong worries with wide eyes. “Sorry, I thought I was being quiet.”

“Were you with her again?” Yeosang questions, appearing with Mingi and Jongho stumbling in after him.

I roll up the omelette while listening to the entire conversation from the kitchen.

Hongjoong nods, “Yeah, we went out for a movie and then lost track of time.”

Wooyoung giggles happily, “Are you guys going to date?”

San slaps Wooyoung’s shoulder, “Don’t pressure him like that.”

“Nah, they’re obviously already dating he just doesn’t want to admit it to us.” Jongho states, sitting on the other side of Wooyoung.

“Woah, Hongjoong’s got a girlfriend?” Yunho says with a wide smile, “Finally.”

“What do you mean ‘finally’?” Hongjoong defends himself.

“Get your own drinks.” I remind them pulling the third omelette out of the pan and pouring the final bit of eggs into the pan.

“What do you want to drink, Mingi, Jongho?” Hongjoong asks the two that are still in somewhat of a sleep daze.

“Water.” Yunho answers.

“Milk.” San adds.

“Oh, me too.” Wooyoung comments.

“I’ll get the milk.” Seonghwa announces noticing Hongjoong’s defeated face.

“Do we have juice?” Mingi asks, the smells of breakfast slowly bringing him to life.

“We have apple or orange.” I inform him, pulling the fourth and final omelette off the pan. I turn the stove off then move to slice the omelette and plate it with the rest.

“Apple.” Jongho gives his answer.

“Orange.” Mingi decides his beverage, his voice still not awake.

Hongjoong and Seonghwa work to pour the beverages while I grab the plate of omelettes and my coffee mug and bring it over to the table where everyone is sitting around. Jongho rises and moves to help Seonghwa and Hongjoong bring the drinks over to the table.

Spread out on the table are dishes of black beans, kimchi, fried anchovies, seasoned bean sprouts, namul, stir fried potatoes, omelettes, and bulgogi. Not to mention the large container of rice.

“Thanks for the food.” Seonghwa announces and serves himself some rice which allows the rest of us to start serving ourselves after reciprocating his thanks.

“These are really good.” Yunho compliments with a bite of omelette in his mouth.

“Thanks.” I take the compliment and scoops some beans onto my plate.

For the next few minutes, the only sounds are utensils hitting plates and napkins being crunched up.

Taking a sip of my coffee to clear my mouth, I inform the guys of my plan to go grocery shopping. “San and I are going to the store today, do you guys have any requests?”

“We need laundry detergent.” Seonghwa looks up briefly, “We’ve got like two pods left.”

My eyes widen not knowing we had gone that low on detergent. I quickly pull out my phone and add to the shopping list.

“Can we have chicken sometime this week?” Mingi asks, looking around for objections. “I’m craving it for some reason.”

“Oh, yeah, can you make that one dish that I like?” Wooyoung suggests, happily.

“That was specific.” Yeosang laughs.

“You know which one, right?” Wooyoung looks to me and I mentally go through my recipe book, “The one with the potatoes and the carrots? It has like a brownish sauce and I think you use the whole drumsticks?”

My mind immediately finds the Chicken Curry recipe my mom taught me years ago.

“The curry!” Hongjoong lights up at the memory.

“Oh, the curry!” I remember and Wooyoung nods happily. “Yeah, I can make that. When do you want it, Mingi?” I inquire from him, adding the ingredients to the grocery list.

“Uh, Wednesday night?” Mingi wonders, “I mean honestly, I do not care.”

I nod and continue eating.

“I want Goldfish.” Jongho whines, putting down his spoon.

“And popcorn.” Wooyoung pipes up, “And Chocopie.”

I type as fast as I can to get down all the snacks they want.

“Jalepeno potato chips, please.” Seonghwa smiles.

“String cheese sticks!” Yeosang adds in.

“And...” San looks at Yunho and Mingi.

“Peppero!” They scream in unison.

I laugh and add it to the list.

“Alright.” I lean back and look at the table of mostly empty dishes, “Should we clean up and start our day?”

“No.” Jongho mumbles while Hongjoong nods in agreement.

“Yes.” Seonghwa corrects them while standing and collecting a few dishes.

“You guys get to clean. I cooked.” I state, nodding my head towards the kitchen.

Yunho obediently obeys and picks up dishes as well. San, Wooyoung, and Jongho are in a heated discussion about the purpose of lamps. Mingi is on the couch with his eyes closed and I’m pretty sure he’s passed out again. Hongjoong and Yeosang also begin cleaning up the table while I get to sit back and watch the whole thing unfold.