#it might take her a hot second to reply but this is indicative of nothing but bad time management skills

[lighthouseborn]

Pre-established jumping-off points I think would be fun to have in various verses that you should tell me if any of them sound like a thing you might want or if they give you a different idea! :

Pen pals!! met once and kept contact or a letter went astray and kept contact or (modern verse(s)) originally met online and have only ever emailed/texted/whatever– etc. etc., set up for letter/message threads and the "we've known each other but are meeting in person for the first time" thing down the road(!!!)

Henry saved them from drowning (or some other grand catastrophe, drowning just amuses me lol) once

Henry hustled them/otherwise mildly conned them them, once. it was probably for a good reason. probably.

Henry sought them out for a reason related to their profession once or twice or a few times and left an impression because he always Remembers the things they talk about, in their brief conversations, and asks about them later

FWB because your muse is from one of the port towns/other places Henry passes through somewhat regularly and it just sort of happened the first time, and since then every time he’s there he’s comes knocking & they spend the night and tell stories about the things they’ve done since they saw each other last. And then they go back to their daily lives and it’s understood that one day he might not pass through or when he does they’ll have made a new life with no space for him in it and this is not sad or a point of contention it’s just how they work.

FWB and it's specifically because your muse is dissatisfied with but trapped in their current relationship

Worked together once or several times or once but it was for an extended time (e.g. on a voyage, doing odd jobs in modern verse)

Were once on differing sides of some kind of conflict for some reason and are now meeting under different circumstances and they’re trying to feel out if their past is reconcilable or if they’re going to keep being on differing sides of things

Your muse hid Henry from somebody he was running from (or assisted in another way, he was injured or needed supplies, etc.) and when they cross paths again he remembers(!) them by name

In modern/modern-adjacent verses; they knew each other from school or a social setting or some such when younger, but Henry's family moved around a lot and so he and your muse fell out of contact, and now they are re-meeting

[jointherebellion215]

Worth

John "Bucky" Egan x female!reader

Summary: You're swept off your feet by one Major John C. Egan, and you love every second of it. Sequel to Birdie.

Word Count: 3.0k

Tags: female!reader, mechanic!reader, women™, period typical sexism & misogyny, fun date night, dude w/ a small dick gets rightfully called out, mostly just fun date stuff, tons of fluff

A/N: Hello all! Thank you so much for the kind words on Birdie. I really appreciate everyone's comments, they warm my heart right up. I almost didn't write this, but the thought of having these two smooch it up was too good to pass up. I also completely headcanon that Bucky has the biggest sweet tooth, oops. As always, I'd be most gracious if you were to leave a like, comment, and/or reblog :)

Read the OC Version of this story on AO3!

Disclaimer: I own nothing. This story and any recognizably named characters are based solely on dramatic portrayals of the characters from the series, not the real individuals they represent. All the respect to the actual service people who fought and died in the Second World War. Also, please don't copy, repost, or translate my writing without explicit prior permission. Don't even think about it, AI!

A knock at the door brings butterflies to your stomach.

“Oh, he’s here!” Irene shouts, which is immediately met with your shushing, as well as Teresa’s.

You nervously pat your hair and check over your outfit for the evening. You’re spending your second day’s leave on a date with Bucky Egan. He had approached you last night at the pub, asking if you wanted to grab dinner. Alone. 

You, of course, said yes.

Teresa and Irene go to answer the door while you gather your purse, stuffing it with your essentials. Your friends greet him at the same time, sounding like twins.

“Good evening, Major!”

“Good evening, Major!”

You hear his deep voice reply, only a small bit of surprise leaking into his voice.

“Good evening, ladies. Is Birdie around? We have dinner plans.”

“I’m here! Hi.” You step around the wall that hides you from the front door, taking a look at the man you’d been crushing on for months. He stands tall and confident in his neatly pressed uniform, hat covering most of his dark curls. His mouth gapes, giving you a once over and attempting to speak up.

“I- You-…Uh, wow. Y-you look…” But any sweet words he attempts to say are interrupted by Irene, who comes in hot with a manic smile.

“Did you know that my daddy taught me how to shoot when I was just a little girl? I’m real good at it. They call me Oakley, back home, cause of how great a marksman I am. Y’know, like Annie Oakley?” She stepped forward, puffing up her chest and giving a frightening grin to Major Egan. You and Teresa exchanged confused looks, not knowing quite where she was going with this.

“I’m not allowed a sidearm or a rifle over here, but I’m sure I could easily borrow one from any of the fellas on base should you break my best friend’s hea—”

“OKAY! We don’t wanna be late, all the tables might be taken soon. Gotta go. Love you. Bye!” You quickly shove past the blonde, stepping over the threshold. You take Bucky’s hand and practically drag his tall form down the hallway, away from your best friend’s attempt at a shovel talk.

You faintly hear Teresa’s well wishes to you amid the aggressively whispered conversation she has with Irene. The last words you hear before the elevator door closes in front of you are a heavily accented protest from Irene.

“What? I was just trying to..!”

The pair of you stand in the elevator in silence. A slight rocking indicates the starting motion of it, which snaps you back to reality. Looking down, you realize that you’re still holding hands with Bucky. You quickly separate your hand from his, heat rising to your cheeks.

“Your friends seem nice.”

Your head snaps to glance at Bucky, who is already looking at you. A sincere smile graces his face, not a hint of mocking in his eyes. 

“I’m glad you have them looking out for you.” 

You feel your face start to cool down, making you comfortable enough to respond. 

“They drive me nuts sometimes. But they’re the best friends I could ever ask for.” You mean every word. 

You see John nod, so you turn back to look to the elevator doors in front of you. An awkward pause.

“You look beautiful.”

Another pause. “What?”

“It’s what I meant to say earlier. That you look beautiful. Because you do.”

Heat quickly returns to your cheeks, spreading throughout your whole upper body. You give a bashful smile, peeking up at him through your lashes. You gaze into his eyes for a moment.

“Thank you, Johnny. You look quite handsome yourself.” The Major adjusts his hat, covering just the tips of his ears. He returns your gaze with an uncharacteristically nervous grin. The floor gives a slight rattle, elevator door and gate opening to reveal the lobby.

John straightens up, holding out his arm for you to take. You tentatively weave your hand within the crook of his elbow. He gently presses his arm in, bringing your body closer to his. 

You meet your other hand in its position and let Bucky lead you out of the hotel and into the evening air.

✨

“That was so delicious! I never knew that a roast could be so tender…”

The pair of you were walking arm-in-arm down a cobblestone street, just having finished dinner. It was a wonderful time. Bucky had been the perfect gentleman, but made his interest in you clear without being sleezy.

He was entirely focused on you the whole time. He asked questions and was genuinely invested in your answers. Conversation came to the two of you like a duck to water. After a shared glass of wine, his hand had slowly inched towards yours. Soon he had cradled it in his, like you were a precious commodity, until your meals arrived. You could hardly keep your eyes off of each other long enough to even promptly acknowledge the wait staff, which you were sure annoyed some and amused others.

Safe to say, John Egan was doing his best to sweep you off your feet.

You hadn’t discussed any other plans for after dinner, but the walk you’re on now is nice enough to give you reason to stick close together.

Bucky nods along, “And that fruit tart? Incredible.”

You laugh, leaning into your date, “I knew that would be your favorite part. You’ve got a bit of a sweet tooth, don’t you?” 

Bucky holds his hands up with a mischievous smirk on his face, “Hey, I plead the fifth.” 

“I’ll admit, I’ve never seen someone so adamant on having some coffee with his sugar.” You continue to tease him. He nudges you playfully, giving a smooth grin in return.

“Hey, we’re in a war! If you see something sweet,” Bucky surprises you by picking you up and twirling you around, getting a full belly laugh from you as he sets you back on the ground.

“You gotta snatch it up and enjoy it while you can.”

You have a feeling that he wasn’t just talking about food. 

By that point, you’re leaning against his front, hands on both of his shoulders. The moment has shifted into something else. Something different. His eyes roam your face, eventually stopping on your lips. Just as he starts to lean in, the moment is shattered by the sound of instruments starting up nearby. Bucky flinches, cursing the ill-timed disruption. 

Oblivious to his turmoil, you gasp in delight and look around for the source of the music.

“Do you hear that? I think there’s a band playing!” 

You spot a few people walk into what looks like a club. It barely a stone’s throw from where you’re both currently standing. 

Bucky quickly recovers, “Should we grab a drink? Have a dance or two?”

You beam at him, and his heart stutters in his chest once more. After you give a nod, you place your hand in his arm and let him lead you into the club.

The two of you step into the establishment, and the energy is almost electric. There are mills of people walking about, drinking, talking, laughing. There’s a great score more on the dance floor, hopping and jiving along to the band you now knew you’d heard earlier. There weren’t a lot of uniforms present, but the ones that were were RAF.

Bucky guides you to the bar, hand on your back until you're both sat on a pair of stools. Your drinks are quickly ordered and served, so your night continues. You both allow yourselves to talk shop for a moment, so your conversation turns towards what you were working on before your leave. As you get to discussing the more intricate parts of your project, you hear a scoff from behind you.

John quickly looks over your shoulder, spotting the culprit.

“Excuse me, is there a problem here?”

You turn around to find a uniformed man taking a sip of his whiskey, RAF logo plastered on the lapel. He mockingly shakes his head, placing the glass down on the bar.

“No, no problem at all.”

Bucky, ever the confrontationist, persists. “It seems like there’s a problem here.”

You gesture towards the man, silently indicating that he was welcome to speak his mind. 

“It’s not enough that you Yanks come over to our country, destroy our pubs and disrespect our women with your recklessness. But you can’t even keep your own women in check! She should be at home, away from the war, for God’s sake. Taking care of the house and the children. You know, doing feminine duties.”

You had heard all of this before, so it was no skin off your back to hear it again. You roll your eyes and decided to just ignore him. Then the man started to laugh, as if he was in on a private joke.

“I mean, a female mechanic? Between that and your daytime missions, it’s no wonder you’re all dropping like flies.”

You let out an exhale, letting the air stream out through your nose. In your periphery, you see Bucky start to stand— to, no doubt, escalate the situation. You stop him with a hand on his chest. He sits back down, looking between you and the man who had just insulted you. You set your glass down, hopping off the stool and giving a slow clap. 

“I’m so glad to know that some people still live in the Stone Age, where apparently all a woman is good for is cooking and giving birth! Thank you so much for showing us exactly what a lack of education and individual thought looks like! See where we are—over in modern times— women can do whatever the hell they want. That includes fixing your planes and jeeps, operating your radios, driving your trucks, and even training your allies to use machine artillery!”

The RAF soldier realizes what he’s gotten himself into but is backed into a corner of the bar as you pace forward with each scathing word that leaves your mouth.

“Never mind all the bullshit you just spouted about what a woman is fit to do. I think that women can decide for ourselves exactly what we can and cannot do. As for my countrymen, I’m proud to serve alongside them. They go up every day willing to sacrifice themselves so that the rest of us don’t have to. They’re gonna be remembered for their bravery and grit. They’re not cowardly enough to hem and haw and stick up their noses at the thought of a woman doing something other than popping out a kid and ironing their pleats.”

The music has dulled down, but you don’t have the complete attention of the club. That gives you the courage to say your final piece.

“Never you mind. I'm confident that the men I serve with, including the man I have with me tonight, aren’t anything like you. Thank God for that! They're not so…” You take an exaggerated glance towards the man’s crotch, scrunching up your nose. “…small-minded.”

Leaving the gaping man behind, you turn to Bucky and ask if he wants to go get some air. He picks his jaw up off the floor quick enough to nod and lead you back outside into the street.

Hey, hanging around Irene pays off sometimes.

As you step out into the night air, you close your eyes and take a deep breath. You feel John step up behind you, voice carefully asking,

“Hey, are you okay? Birdie?”

You continue to stand with your eyes closed. You just needed a moment.

“I’ve come too far to let anyone’s opinion of me, or my career choices, effect me.”

You open your eyes and look over your shoulder at your date. He gives an understanding nod, stepping closer to you. He places his hands on your arms, rubbing up and down in a soothing motion. You lean back into him, closing your eyes once more, letting him comfort you for the time being.

“Sorry if I ruined the night.”

You can feel a rumble from Bucky’s chest as he chuckles. “Oh, this night’s far from ruined. In fact, that was probably the best thing I’ve ever seen.”

One of your eyes pops open. You crane your neck to peek at him, “Even better than the time you told me about Curt knocking out an RAF officer in one punch?”

“Yep.”

“Winning that bet to get your bicycle?”

“Oh, for sure.”

“Better than your fruit tart from dinner?”

His smile widens, “Okay, let’s not get crazy here. Maybe it was top ten.”

“Top ten?!” You playfully gasp, turning around to face him again. You rest your hands on your hips, “What’s a girl gotta do to rank above a fruit tart around here?”

“Well…” You scoff and shove Bucky at the cheeky smirk he gives you. You’re quickly distracted by the sound of the band inside starting up again. This time with a familiar tune.

“Oh, your song’s on, Johnny!”

Bucky tosses his hat to the side, steps back and gives a very unserious bow. He then sneers with a hyper-nasal impression of the RAF officer you’d just affronted.

“My lady.”

You roll your eyes and give a joking curtsy in return, taking his offered hand. He pulls you into a proper stance for a waltz, which is a complete offset to the jive song that reaches your ears. You both jokingly hop along in the awkward squared formation for a moment, giggling to yourselves. 

He gently pushes on your hip while outstretching his hand, so you take the cue and twirl until you’re both standing at each other’s fingertips. A quick grasp of your hand and a pull twirls you right back into his arms, bumping into his chest. The moment made you burst into laughter, leaning into your dance partner until the song ends. 

The next song is a much slower tune, giving Bucky the chance to pull you in close. You hum along to the band playing, sidling up to the Major’s chest. He places a hand in yours and loops the other around your waist. Your free arm gently drapes under his and over his shoulder, encouraging a lean into his firm body. You both give a slow sway, leading each other back and forth in the quiet echoes of the street. Closer than before.

“You know, I’ve been plucking up the courage to ask you to dinner for a while now.” 

You lay your head on the knuckles of your hand that rest on his shoulder, responding lowly. 

“Really?”

You continue to sway.

“Yeah.”

You’re curious, so you ask, “What made you finally do it?”

He thinks on the answer for a moment, almost chewing on his thoughts. John is not the kind of person to typically contemplate over an answer, so you gift him all the time in the world to respond. You recognize how important that is to him.

“I… I think that it was a lot of little things.” He pulls you in closer. “Your smile, your eyes, the way you talk about the things you love. Birdie, you are so personable with everyone you come into contact with and it’s so magnetic.” 

The flow of compliments shocks you, not expecting this barrage of details to come from the man in front of you. But you dance on anyways.

“But I really think what did me in was yesterday, at the pub. When you looked at me during your song.”

You remember. You know exactly what he was talking about. Whatever he must have felt, you know that you felt it too.

He continues to speak in an intimate tone as you sway along in the street.

“I felt my entire life click into place. It was like everything suddenly made sense. I didn’t have to wonder about what my life was going to be like in five, ten, fifteen years. Because I knew.”

He pulls back to look you in the eye, and the amount of vulnerability in his eyes floors you. 

“I’ll be honest, it scared the shit outta me. It terrified me.”

You understand what he meant. This is all new to him, as it is to you. You pull his forehead to touch yours, noses gently brushing one another, as you offer your best words of comfort in that moment.

“Sometimes, you have to do what scares you the most to find out what’s worth doing.” 

He cups your face, letting his lips ghost against yours. He made his intentions clear, but it was up to you to decide how you move forward.

So, you close your eyes and take the leap.

Your lips press into his, hands stroking the arms that were framing your face. He immediately responds in kind, lips moving in tandem with yours. You melt into him at the reciprocated motion. His arms soon move to your waist, pulling you impossibly close. Your arms reach around his neck, hands resting at the nape of his neck. As he deepens the kiss, you run your hands up, down, and through the dark curls on the back of his head, earning a groan from your partner.

A burst of warmth sparks from within your very being, traveling further and further through your body until you’re consumed by flames. Half of your mind is scrambling to make sense of reality, and the other half is completely consumed by passion.

After a moment, you reluctantly separate from one another, panting to catch your breath. It’s as if the world stopped spinning when you connected, and then started up again when you parted. 

Giving a nervous look to the man you just kissed, you’re elated when he gives you an ear-to-ear grin. He grasps one of your hands in his, intertwining your fingers. His other hand comes up to cup your face again, thumb gently stroking your cheekbone.

You stay silent for the time being, letting the moment marinate. He brings up your joined hands to kiss the back of your palm. Your heart jumps with joy at the sight.

Bucky gives an exhale before breaking the silence.

“You are most definitely worth it.”

[batboyblog]

Interesting thing to consider regarding our situation from Magdi Jacobs. She’s been fairly levelheaded so far about all this. The Pandemic really did change us all and how we perceive things.

The constant stressful vigilance we all needed during the pandemic is still in effect from that era, and that’s why there’s such a disconnect between what we see and feel as true:

https://x.com/magi_jay/status/1812531377184653581?s=46&t=9ilK5pqP73XDblTtTbb4Qg

I don't disagree with her, and I know for a fact she also agrees with what I have to say here:

Covid is part of it, maybe it is its own thing, maybe it super charged something that had been happening in slow-mo before

but I think algorithmic social media is breaking all our brains and Covid locked SO many of us inside with it for a year and a half or so where our only "human" contact was through social media and that was NOT helpful

There's lots of studies about social media and anxiety and depression, we know algorithms intentionally put stories/posts that upset you into your feed, we know that social media causes negative polarization.

speaking just of my own experience on twitter over the last two weeks it really challenges your sense of reality, twitter very quickly forms a group think about a current event and it becomes overwhelming, also it destroys any sense of time and prospective, so nothing is allowed to just be bad it has to be THE WORST THING EVER! and from the debate and now Trump's fist pump after getting shot at everything is NOW! the election is not 4 months away with all the events that will take over the news, people are voting just this second and only based on this news story rn! AAHHHH!!! !

by its short form nature twitter makes it feel as if people are having a conversation with you, but your ability to reply and question their statements is limited and I think that makes for extreme anxiety if the group think challenges your understanding of events/reality. So Joe Biden had a bad debate night, sounded bad, looked bad, he was a sick, jet lagged, overworked, old man and looked and sounded like all of that. Oh well, but the group think quickly shifted to "this is the worst thing ever, he clearly has dementia!" and you were bombarded by that over and over, in more and more shrill and condescending tones. And it became very stress inducing because people were seeing something you didn't see and insisting "don't believe your eyes and ears! believe my hot takes!" and you felt like you were losing your mind.

This is one current event but this happens on social media all the time, twitter is bad, TikTok is worse.

I also think for "younger" (under 40?) people raised on reality TV, and more so instagram, Facebook, now TikTok picture and video based social media there's a, life as reality TV show quality, an unspoken performance and need to make our lives seem perfect for an unseen (and not real) audience, and also to be seen as having the right views, but living in quick sand where liking or using anything could become a problem at any point and having to keep up endlessly. I also think this is intensely anxiety producing and also just debilitating, I don't think you can DO anything good in the world with that mindset

final thought: I've said for awhile I think why you see so many people declaring the economy is bad, regularly saying its historically, Great Depression levels bad, when it is in fact really good, as near to full employment as we've ever had lots of great economic indicators is left over Covid trauma.

We all went through a scary, sad, upsetting time in our lives. But because we ALL did if nothing happened to you particularly, you didn't get hospitalized, don't have long Covid, no one you're close with died and you couldn't be there for them, it might feel like "nothing" happened. So people are reaching for a "logical" reason for that edgy, sad, nervous, upset, unhappy feeling they can't get rid of. Normally that comes from economic anxiety, fear of not having enough money, or losing a job etc. So many people are reporting that they think the national economy is terrible while saying they think they themselves are doing well, that their local or state economy (that they see an interact with) is doing good, while the nation is doing bad, somehow. People are spending like they're doing well as well, never had it so good, never felt so bad.

I suspect its because we're all still dealing with Covid feelings, and thanks to social media, the death of common spaces, political radicalization, we never really came together and drew a line under Covid, it just kinda sputtered out and we slowly went back to our lives like nothing happened.

[mywebfoot]

In Every Winter Night, Part 2 (Marry My Husband Fanfic)

Author's note: Part 1 is here.

--

Ji Hyuk

The doors of the office lift opened, and Ji Won’s bright eyes met his. It gave him a jolt. Energy zipped along his limbs and he wanted to dance, to shout you’re here, you’re here and helicopter his arms wildly. He contented himself with a smile, quickly smothered. This morning, on the drive to town they had talked about it, and they had agreed to keep their newfound relationship quiet from their colleagues. He was, after all, her indirect boss and she was, after all, fresh from a very public break up. All very logical. The problem was, he hadn’t anticipated how difficult it would be to stay sane when she was near. 

She entered the lift, walking straight to him, but turning around at the last second as if conscientiously making room in the lift for others. The back of her pink nubbly suit skirt brushed against his hands that were holding his briefcase in front of him. In his mind, he turned his hand outwards and cupped a pretty handful of perky Ji Won butt. No, no, no.

He took a deep breath. That was also a mistake. He’d inhaled a large lungful of Ji Won’s intoxicating scent and now he couldn’t breathe AND he was turned on in a lift full of colleagues. 

Ji Hyuk wanted to laugh at himself. He bit it back, death-gripped his briefcase, and tried to take very shallow breaths for the long ride up, with multiple stops to let people off. He’d consider it a win if he didn’t pass out before reaching their floor. 

—

Morning emails were done, and Ji Hyuk was quite proud of himself for actually doing work. He leaned back in his seat, and his mind went right back to the promise he made Ji Won last night. 

Date nights. He’d promised her date nights, and a slow exploration of their physical relationship. To give her the security of clear boundaries and no obligation to continue beyond her comfort zone, he’d proposed one body part per date. This week they had agreed on shoulders, nothing more. 

He thought back to the skin-tight black shirt she’d worn to dump her sleazebag ex. How it had shown off her nape and the delicate bone structure across her shoulders. How the boat cut across the shoulders meant no bra straps, and suggested the wild possibility of no bra. The two straps crossing the front did not conceal anything, but only made him yearn for a pair of scissors and a dark room. Hui Yeon had been right, her outfit had been pure punishment. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat as heat pooled in his groin and a deep throb reminded him that his office was not an appropriate place to have hot daydreams about his woman. 

Speaking of… he glanced up and caught her eyes. Some of what he was thinking might have leapt across the rows of busy cubicles between them, for her eyes widened and she quickly ducked back down. 

The corner of his lips tilted up as a mischievous thought occured to him. Ji Hyuk pulled up the office messaging app. He briefly considered the scandal if these messages were read, since it was strictly an office communication tool. But he brushed that aside. He knew a guy in HR who was privy to their relationship anyway. 

“What are we doing this weekend?” He kept his eyes on the computer, and the three bouncing dots that indicated she was typing. 

“Us? Whatever you want to do, Director-nim.”

Director-nim. He didn’t like that, but he did like the “us” bit. Us. There’s an Us. 

“Is there something you’ve wanted to do?”

“Ice skating,” came the immediate reply. 

Ji Hyuk frowned. He didn’t care about the activity, as long as it was with her, but ice skating meant being cold, and being cold meant thick clothing, and thick clothing meant difficult access to her shoulders. 

He glanced up again, speculatively. Ji Won was still looking down at her screen, so he took the moment to imagine her bundled up in winter clothes. Then he made a plan to unwrap her like his favourite ice cream popsicle. Pop, slide, pull, lick. He liked plans. He liked this plan. 

“Let’s go,” he typed. 

—

Ji Won

She knew she’d have fun on a date with Ji Hyuk, but she didn’t know how much fun. They had certainly hung out together before, as friends, but this was a date and it was so much better. Holding mitten-covered hands while sliding across the ice. The last time she’d had this much joy was in a winter skating rink back in Busan, a pre-schooler holding on to her father’s hands while she wobbled and slid along. 

Ji Won felt the hot sting of tears but she shook her head against it. No more crying. Ji Hyuk was here, and in a way that meant Appa was here too, loving her and making her safe and secure. 

Every time she slipped Ji Hyuk was there, grabbing her and hauling her right back up. Each time, instead of being taken down a peg, her confidence grew, because she could feel Ji Hyuk’s hands lingering where they touched her. An extra second around her shoulders, a soft brush across her back, a firm grip on the top her hips. Each touch left a drop of heat, and each drop of heat was slipping down and collecting wet warmth between her legs. 

He liked her he’d said. She enjoyed how direct he was, and each time he touched her she felt more desirable, more womanly and much more seductive. No one could fault her for tripping more often than was strictly necessary, especially if it meant that she could take another sip of the long, cool drink that was Yu Ji Hyuk, right? 

After an hour or so, he missed catching her and she properly fell on her butt. Ow, that hurt. 

“That’s it, I’m done!” she laughed up at him as he circled around to her. He chuckled at her splayed, jean-clad legs, and her rosy face. He stretched out a hand and pulled her up easily. As she got back on her feet, he turned her and grabbed her tight around the waist. He lifted her up so that her booted feet dangled. Laughing hard, she held on tight while he skated them both back to the bench. 

—

Ji Hyuk

They held hands as he walked her back to her apartment, this time without gloves. Their fingers tangled together, in a way that felt familiar and new to him. At her door, she turned to him, tipping up on her toes to give him a gentle kiss. 

All night he’d waited for this moment to fulfill the promise he’d made to her. He returned the kiss, but withdrew shortly after. 

“Let’s go in.” He had to get her to a safe space to do what he wanted, no, needed to do. 

The moment the door closed behind him, he tugged her back into his arms. Kissing, licking, biting, Ji Hyuk feasted on her mouth, gave himself what he'd been waiting for all week. He groaned and ran his hands restlessly up and down her fuzzy winter coat. 

“May I take this off?”

Ji Won nodded, wordlessly. 

Quickly, he slipped it off her shoulders to reveal the dark cowl-necked sweater she had worn to the rink. The sweater nipped in at her waist where she had tucked it into her jeans. He fingers went there first, tightening around her lower rib cage and marvelling at how lean her abs felt. 

“You look like a tiny wisp, but you’re strong,” he whispered.

She nodded, but didn’t say anything. Instead she slid her hands up, up around his neck and pulled him down for more kisses. He let her lead, let her decide where this would go, despite the promise he made to explore her shoulders. 

She nibbled at his lips, burying her fingers into his hair and panting breathily. Then she moved, kissing his cheeks and making her way to his ear.

“Pull the sweater down,” she gasped.

Down? Ji Hyuk thought for a bit. He leaned away and stared at her sweater and he thought of his plan. Oh. His knees buckled at the realization that Ji Won had thought this through. Had helped plan her own seduction and even made it easier for him. 

“Ji Won-shi,” he rasped. He raised both hands to the cowl-neck of her sweater and tugged. In the dim light of the hall, he watched as the soft, stretchy knit gave way and revealed pale skin and a dark shirt on the inside. He tugged further and it slid off one shoulder to reveal a familiar pattern of two lines crossing her neck. 

Ji Hyuk sucked in air and swore. It was that shirt. That one. The one he’d been fantasizing about. 

“I saw you look,” she whispered. 

“I did. I saw this shirt and it drove me nuts that Park Min Hwan saw you in it. I wanted you all to myself. I wanted to do this,” Ji Hyuk growled, and slipped his fingers around the two straps that had haunted his imagination. He snatched them aside and put his mouth on the revealed bare skin. Again and again he kissed her there. Pop,  slide, pull, lick. 

Ji Won trembled, whimpered and panted at the onslaught. First one side, then the other, Ji Hyuk worshipped her bared shoulders. He left hot trails of tiny pink love bites, not denying himself anything, yet carefully observing her signs of arousal. He was ready to stop at the slightest sign of distress, but she was all there, all in, gripping his arms and making tiny sounds in her throat. Still, he remembered the warning their last encounter had given him. 

Slowly, he pulled back, dropping light kisses back up her neck. He ducked his head and let his eyes rove over her, assessing how she was doing. Her eyes remained closed. Her head was tilted back to give him access, and her lips glistened from their earlier kissing. She was so beautiful. Unbelievably passionate and all his. He knew had time and her pleasure was important to him. She was enjoying it, but she had physical and emotional limits that would take patience to heal. For today, this was enough. He wanted to end well.

He cupped her cheeks gently. “Shall we stop here for today?”

Her eyes opened, and she smiled. 

Ji Hyuk felt like he’d won a medal, no, an entire championship. This was it, this. No fear, no shakes. Just undiluted joy at their lovemaking. 

“Then… shall we make a plan for our next winter date?”

--

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4]

[kyglow]

shooting her a puzzled look in reaction to her questionable words which could be taken out of context to be a sexual innuendo yet he appeared to quickly change his expression back to a calmer yet softer look. " i wouldn't want to stay sticky or wet but if that's your thing then that's your thing. "he replied in a friendly voice. his eyes lifted up as they scanned quickly over the night dark sky making a point about the heavy downpour of rain and how they were both becoming drenched in it. the older male followed her closely hearing the sizzling sounds from the hot engine which indicated to him her engine had overheated or possibly there might not have been enough water in her engine having caused her vehicle to break down. burke would keep quiet not wanting to reveal his plausible reasons why her car had broken down despite not getting a good look at the engine yet still he would pretend to play the part of a concerned citizen who wanted to help a young woman who was stranded and alone.

quirking up his eyebrows appearing to be surprised when she revealed this was the second time her engine had broken down on her. " again? " he scoffed sounding shocked only to then turn his face away and shake his head with eyes looking directly now at the hood. placing his hands on his hips he appeared to be pensive in thought for a moment only to then make a decision. " i mean sorry young miss but there's nothing we can really do right now. it unfortunately won't be a quick fix. " he sighed appearing to be disappointed slightly before shifting his eyes to look back at her. " i mean good thing you won't have to worry about anyone stealing it. " he teased when shrugging his shoulders and flashing her a smile. his hand lifted to his chin as fingers stroked his wet soaked stubble-covered jaw. he turned to her dropping his hand by his hip. " i can drive you home miss it won't be a problem. i mean probably no point going to a party looking like you've taken a swim in the pacific no offense. " he teased and flashed her a gentle smile. " no no sweety save your money a cab won't be necessary. come on i'll take you home it won't be any trouble. " taking a step back he beckoned her with his hand to come with him. " just follow me to the back I got some towels to help you dry off. " giving her one last look as eyes wandered down her wet figure before turning away as he walked over towards the back of the van.

        long   blonde   locks   were   soaked,    rain   water   dripping   from   her   smooth   yet   now   matted   hair   from   the   wind   and   water   she   would   bring   her   hand   up   to   rub   down   her   face   to   get   the   water   from   it,   only   smearing   her   mascara.   “you   could   stay   sticky,   ”   winnie   would   say,   her   heels   off   now   as   she   stands   on   the   concrete.   she   moves   her   body   over   the   top   of   the   car   and   into   the   hood.   rain   was   causing   sizzling   sounds   from   the   hot   engine   with   every   drop.    a   hiss   as   she   touched   a   piece   of   metal,   only   to   come   up   to   look   at   him   once   more.   “i   don't   know   if   you   can   help   me   with   this   thing.”   winnie   had   fixed   this   car   up   months   ago,   it   was   a   nice   car.   not   too   old.   90s.   kind   of   rugged   but   not   too   rough.   “it's   just   busted,   kinda.   i   guess   the   engine   blew   up   –   again.   ”   ugh,   she   huffed   at   how   she   had   let   the   car   breakdown   AGAIN.   this   time   just   having   to   get   through   the   stupid   thunderstorm. 

he   spoke   the   obvious.   it   was   late   and   the   storm   coming   in.   people   were   getting   inside,   drinking   –   eating   or   whatever   people   did   normally.   “you're   right   …   god   damn   it."   she   would   mutter   the   last.   “i   was   just   going   to   a   party.   i   guess   i   should   go   back   home   now,   since   i'm   soaked   in   this   stupid   dress   and   my   feet   hurt.”   she   would   shake   her   head.   “I   can   just   call   a   cab,   you   don't   have   to   take   me   home,   sir.”

[logmosswrites]

That Hum of Night

Fandom: Overwatch

Pairing: Hanzo Shimada x fem!reader x Jesse McCree

Words: 4k

Warning: NSFW! 18+ only. Definitely PWP, wet dreams, BDSM dynamics, Dom Hanzo and Jesse, Sub reader, dirty talk, humiliation/degredation (verbal and otherwise), praise kink, nipple play, dry humping, rope bondage, vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, orgasm delay/denial, vibrator use, unsafe sex, creampie, oral sex/cunnilingus, come marking, aftercare. No y/n.

Author's note: cross posted to AO3.

There was nothing but heat. No up, no down, no world at all outside of the bodies pressed against yours. Your legs parted to make room for them, urging them closer still with every whimper and moan rolling off of your lips. You were hopelessly desperate, open and dripping for anything that would fill you. Fingers lazily fucked you open, joining a writhing tongue inside of your pussy. Hanzo and Jesse were everywhere all at once, sating your hunger as quickly as it appeared. Their mouths claimed every inch of skin they could find, the hot flash of teeth and tongue on your neck leaving you to gasp for air. You thrust your hips forward, shame long abandoned to the overwhelming pleasure coursing through your body. Please, you begged, just at the precipice of orgasm. Suddenly, deft fingers latched onto your aching clit, hard and punishing; you rocked with them, winding tighter and tighter until-

You woke up.

Slowly, the world came back to you, trickling in like a leaking faucet. Your mouth was dry; your heart pounded in your ears. You felt overheated, damp with sweat where you were sandwiched between Jesse and Hanzo- oh shit, Jesse and Hanzo .

“Sweetheart?”

And there was Jesse.

He was leaning over you, lit up by the moonlight filtering in through the curtains. Bracing yourself, you looked into his eyes, surprised to find concern instead of the amusement you expected.

“Are you alright, darlin’? It looked like you were having a pretty intense nightmare, there.”

Wait- nightmare?

“You nearly pushed me off of the bed,” interjected Hanzo from behind you, voice betraying his worry. It was only then that you noticed the rumpled blankets, piled up where you had tried to kick them off. Shit.

In response, you simply rolled over and tucked your flaming face into Jesse’s chest, unwilling to correct their conclusion. Jesse allowed this for a moment, but soon took your chin in hand, forcing you to look at him. “Hey, now, you don’t have to hide from me–from us. There’s no shame in bein’ a little shook up by a bad dream, sweetheart. Hell, even I get scared by what my brain decides to cook up sometimes,” the man said, sealing his words with a kiss to your forehead. You felt a tiny bit of guilt gnaw at you as he settled back down onto his side, bleary eyes watching yours for any sign of distress. But it wasn’t really lying, right? How would they ever even find out?

“Come here,” said Hanzo, snaking his arm around your waist. You went freely, fighting a shiver as you felt his familiar body conform to yours. “You are safe, my love,” he whispered, “in this bed, you are safe.” With that, your boyfriend pressed his lips to your neck, ghosting over it as he had in your fantasy. Your body reacted accordingly, hips rolling forward and a gasp hitching in your chest. You slapped a hand over your mouth, but it was too late; the room was fraught with tension, none of you daring to even breathe. Well, fuck.

“Sweetheart-”

“I-”

Silence once again.

“Do you need us to sleep somewhere else, darlin’? It’s alright if-”

“No!” you exclaimed, eyes wide. Jesse searched your face for the truth, scrutinizing your awkward expression. You avoided meeting his eyes, shifting under the weight of Hanzo’s arm. Slowly, the cowboy seemed to put two and two together, lips pulling together into a dimpled smirk.

“Hanzo, I don’t think our baby girl had a nightmare."

Kill me, kill me, kill me, you chanted inside of your head, feeling Hanzo’s grip tighten as he caught up to the idea. For a split second, you considered actually lying, dismissing it just as quickly when you saw Jesse's smirk turn devilish.

"Is that true, beloved?” Hanzo asked, breath warm on your ear, “Are you trying to hide something from us?”

This time, you couldn’t suppress your shiver. Damn, Hanzo and Jesse knew just how to play you.

“You naughty little slut,” admonished Jesse, “Let’s see how wet you are under those panties of yours.” Lightning-quick, the man reached under the covers, hooking his fingers into the offending piece of fabric. Viciously, he tore them down, yanking your knees forward in order to get them all the way off. Your breath caught in your throat as he brought your panties into the hazy light of the bedroom, showing off the soaked inner lining.

“Well, would ya look at that? Our baby girl made a mess of herself, Hanzo. What should we do about this?”

Holy shit, you were going to die, right here in this bed.

“I think,” spoke Hanzo, voice gravelly, “that we should make her clean it up.”

And fuck, if that didn’t make you even wetter. Jesse considered you for a moment, eyes gaining a ferocious gleam as he noticed your quickly-growing arousal. Without preamble, he pushed your underwear into your mouth, wrapping them around two of his thick fingers. Instantly, you began to suck, tongue working around the cloth. Jesse pushed deeper and deeper in response, nearly activating your gag reflex. As it was, your eyes swam with tears, barely able to make out your boyfriend’s face turning deathly serious as he concentrated on you. Hanzo, unwilling to be left out, began to knead his hands into your flesh, pulling your sleep shirt up in order to play with your quickly hardening nipples. His scorching-hot mouth then sank onto your skin once more, lavishing your neck with kisses. You could hardly think, hardly breathe. Desperate sounds came from deep in your chest, muffled by Jesse’s unrelenting fingers.

Minutes, or maybe hours, flew by before your panties were taken from your mouth. You drew in a greedy breath, panting from sheer desire. God, how much more could you take? You were positively soaked at this point, aching with a need for friction. You knew better than to try and seek your own release, yet you still gasped when Hanzo snatched your hands away from your throbbing clit, reprimanding you with a harsh bite to the shoulder. A hoarse cry tore from your throat, reverberating loudly in the dark bedroom.

“You,” drawled Jesse, “have been a bad, bad girl, princess. First, you made a fucking mess of your panties, which you tried to hide from us. Then, you went and played with your tight little pussy even when you know you’re not allowed to. I think you’ve earned yourself a punishment, slut.”

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck , that could mean anything. Punishments from Hanzo and Jesse were rare, but you knew you were in deep, deep shit regardless. And if his predatory grin was any indication, Jesse knew exactly what you were thinking.

“Hanzo, put her on her back. I want her begging by the time I’ve finished tying her up.”

With that, your world was disoriented, your view changing to that of Hanzo’s face right above yours. You felt more than saw Jesse getting off of the bed, quickly distracted by your other lover smothering you with a savage kiss. You did your best to reciprocate, but you were no match for Hanzo’s overwhelming influence. You could feel his hard cock pressing into your thigh where he straddled you, covered only by his cotton briefs. Before you could even think about moving your hands towards it, though, they were captured once more and pressed up above your head; holy shit, Hanzo moved fast.

“What a little whore,” Hanzo spoke, finally allowing you to draw in a breath, “So desperate for cock, you poor thing. How did you ever survive before we came along?”

Jesus Christ.

Hanzo, satisfied by your stunned silence, turned back to the task at hand, finally tearing off your shirt and sucking hickeys onto your bare chest. His goatee was coarse against your feverish skin as you rose up to meet him, writhing beneath his iron grip. You threw your head back, only opening your eyes when you felt Jesse grabbing your now-unoccupied wrist. In his other hand you saw a length of red rope, a frequent addition to your bedroom activities.

“Color?” Jessie asked, momentarily abandoning his dominating façade. Hanzo paused as well, considering you like he might consider his bow; serious and straightforward. You sucked in a deep breath, stomach swooping in anticipation when you croaked out a confident “green”.

With that, you were pulled back into Hanzo’s blazing inferno, hands and teeth and tongue setting your skin aflame. As Jesse maneuvered your wrist into a complicated cuff pattern, Hanzo took hold of your nipples once more, rolling one between his fingers as the other was caught between his teeth. Christ above, it was like someone had injected fire straight into your veins.

“You likin’ that, baby girl?” Came Jesse’s voice, off to the other side now and distinctly smug. You sent him a glare, tempered by the heady sensation of satiny rope being pulled against your sensitive skin. Jesse merely winked back, his roguish attitude written all over his relaxed-yet-confident posture. With one final flourish of the cowboy’s fingers, your hands were firmly tied to the headboard, spreading out to either side of you in a comfortable stretch of your shoulders. Before you could get too settled, however, Hanzo was moving his rough, calloused hands towards your hips–with a jerk, you were pulled flush against him, his erection just barely grazing your sex. Two forearms planted themselves next to your head, decisively caging you in.

“Jesse, tie her up like this. I want to make sure we have plenty of room to fuck her without restraint.”

God. You couldn’t believe Hanzo’s mouth.

“You got it, boss,” Jesse replied easily, taking your ankle in his hand. Heat curled low in your gut as your legs were spread wide by the cowboy’s unyielding grip, exposing you to Hanzo’s hungry gaze. The heat multiplied as Hanzo adjusted his hips, your own twitching up to meet him halfway. Yes, yes, yes, you thought, nearly salivating in anticipation. Slowly, ever so slowly, the archer began to roll his pelvis against yours, finally giving you the friction you had been craving. It was heaven; it was perfect. Hanzo steadily began to increase his rhythm, grunts of pleasure growing louder and louder along with your punched-out gasps. The man loved to do this with you, spending hours grinding on you as you cuddled to watch a movie or even as you were falling asleep in his arms.

“That’s it, beloved. Can you feel my cock? Do you want it?” Frantically, you nodded, head swimming in a slurry of arousal and desperation. “Then beg for it, you whore.”

Fuck. You could barely think a coherent word, much less say them–but you tried anyway, panting a quiet oh and yes and please as sweetly as you could. The archer only gave a noncommittal sigh in response, clearly unimpressed by your performance.

“How disappointing, Jesse; it sounds as though our little whore doesn’t want to be fucked after all,” came Hanzo's patronizing voice, sinking low in your stomach–the man never made empty threats, especially in the bedroom. A teasing slip of Jesse’s hand set you to begging, words tumbling past your lips before you could even process them. “God, please, please, Hanzo, fuck, Jesse, please, fuck me!” you cried, pleading your case in a way that could make a porn star blush. After a moment of stunned silence, all three of you came back to your senses.

“Fuck,” Jesse snarled, chest heaving. “Fuck.”

In a flurry of motion, he was tying you off, finishing the cuff on your other ankle; then he was diving towards you, capturing your mouth with his in an animalistic mix of lips and teeth. Small, possessive noises issued from the cowboy’s throat, buzzing on your tongue like the bubbles of a sweet champagne. A scorching hand burned down the lines of your body, setting your newly-formed bruises alight with sensation. You shivered in anticipation–you wanted, needed Jesse and Hanzo inside of you now.

All thinking stopped, however, when deft fingers finally reached your oversensitive clit; you jackknifed upwards, breaking your kiss with Jesse. Your hips bucked under Hanzo’s weight as you gulped in air, starving for oxygen and touch in equal measure.

“That’s it, slut,” Jesse said, voice rigid. His eyes were positively wild, stormy with need from where he was hovering over you. A glance at Hanzo’s face revealed much of the same. You imagined that this is what it must feel like to be a ship in a storm, to be something so small in comparison to nature’s unparalleled power. You opened your mouth in silent prayer as Jesse’s fingers laved over your sopping cunt, dragging them over your lips like the pages of a book. Without warning, he slipped two thick fingers inside of you, stretching you open while working his thumb in small circles over your clit. Oh, God. Your dream couldn’t even begin to compare to the actual feeling of Jesse’s hand, moving in and out with enough force to rock your whole body. Lewd noises filled your ears, setting off yet another round of sparks fizzling through you. A familiar surge of pleasure began to crescendo in the pit of your stomach, drawing out more breathless whimpers from somewhere high in your throat. However, just before you could reach your orgasm, Jesse’s thumb slipped from your throbbing clit, leaving you to clench around his fingers to no avail. Fuck, fuck, no! Just a little more...

Your eyes opened to meet Jesse’s face, finding that his impish smirk had slipped back on.

“Awww, darlin’, ya look so sad,” the man teased, crooking his fingers just to make you whine. “Don’t worry though, we’re just getting started…”

Equal measures of excitement and dread shot through you at his words. Hanzo and Jesse, while loving boyfriends, knew exactly how to push every single one of your buttons; in short, they could be assholes. Beautiful, sexy, lovable assholes. Paying your trepidation no heed, Jesse withdrew his hand from your hole, leaving you empty and shivering. Jesus, you were a mess.

“Wanna taste?” Jesse asked–but he wasn’t talking to you. No, he was offering his hand to Hanzo, who regarded the cowboy with relentless heat in his gaze. A silent something passed between them, before Hanzo was leaning in and taking the slick digits in his mouth, staring into Jesse’s eyes the entire time.

“Good, right?” Jesse said, voice gravelly once more. Hanzo simply hummed in response, before withdrawing once again. Another tense moment slipped by, in which it got harder and harder to remember how to breathe. Jesse’s eyes flicked downwards, then back up to Hanzo, seeming to ask a question; nearly imperceptibly, the archer nodded, drawing in a short breath when Jesse’s hand moved down to grasp the hem of his underwear. You bit your lip as Hanzo’s cock was revealed, red and leaking at the tip. With just a touch of Jesse’s fingers, precum was dripping onto your stomach, increasing your own arousal tenfold. Leisurely, the cowboy began to jerk Hanzo off, grip loose and taunting.

“Look at our girl, Hanzo,” Jesse commanded, swiping his thumb over the other man’s cockhead. “Look at how fuckin’ desperate she is for you”.

Hanzo’s eyes snapped to yours, and you felt the full weight of his attention crash down on you– fuck, he looked feral, lips pressed in a snarl and dark hair falling just past his chin. You couldn’t help but look away, feeling suffocated by Hanzo’s gaze; however, a metallic hand grasped your cheeks, wrenching your head back to look at your powerful lovers above you.

“Eyes up here, slut,” Jesse reprimanded, “I want you to watch him as he ruins that pussy of yours, understood?” You nodded. “Good. And don’t you fuckin’ dare cum before I tell you to, or else I’ll edge you for a week straight, got it?” Another nod, and he finally relinquished his hold on you, leaving a dull pain that you hoped would flower into bruises.

As you were told, you kept your eyes trained on Hanzo’s face, watching his eyes flutter as his cock was guided to your entrance. Once, twice, he slipped out, before he was slowly pushing in, inch by inch. God, he filled you perfectly. Finally, as Hanzo sank completely into you, Jesse relinquished his hold, stepping away to admire how the archer curved around you like a great beast getting ready to devour a meal. Arms shaking, Hanzo fell onto his elbows for support, hot breath sweeping over your face. He was close enough now that you could see beads of sweat beginning to form on his brow. You were the only one who got to see Hanzo like this, aside from Jesse–it was a fact that never seemed to get old, no matter how many times you had joined him in bed. Equally as tantalizing was the slide of his cock inside of you, beginning to move in short, calculated thrusts. Instinctively, you clenched down, earning a warning glare from Hanzo–but you were already in trouble, weren’t you? What would be the harm in doing a little teasing of your own?

Staring Hanzo in the eye, you purposely flexed your muscles once more, feeling a hot rush of slick slowly drip out of you. In a momentary lapse of control, Hanzo buried his head into your shoulder, letting out a strangled moan. You couldn’t keep from responding with a shit-eating grin, putting Jesse’s own signature smirk to shame. However, your expression dropped as you caught Hanzo’s thunderous face, towering over you as he rose back onto his hands and knees.

Oh, shit.

“You. Worthless. Whore. ” the man hissed, jaw clenched, “It seems as though you need to be reminded of your place.”

With surgical precision, Hanzo bottomed out inside of you, pausing for just a moment before retreating once again. Another thrust, and it was clear that your self-control would be pushed to the limit; already, you were falling apart, legs shaking from the sheer effort it took to hold back your orgasm. But Hanzo took no mercy on you, setting a steady rhythm that had you moaning helplessly. Fuck, this was getting difficult-

“Jesse, bring me the vibrator.”

God fucking dammit, you thought, your stomach dropping. Without so much as a stutter in his hips, Hanzo took the wand from Jesse’s outstretched hand, watching you intently as he nestled it right next to your clitoris. Your eyes flickered between the two sights, drinking in the sheer power your lover held over you. Then, with a click of a button, you were straining upwards, feeling as though you were being wrenched straight out of your body. Another click, and the vibrations grew even more intense; you longed to bury your hand in Hanzo’s hair, to scratch your nails across his muscled back, to do anything but sit there and take it. Each breath you drew in was cut off by the next, a staccato beat matching the rhythm of your racing pulse. You were close, so close that you could taste it on your tongue– shit!

“Did you really think I would let you cum, slut?” Hanzo asked, still thrusting in and out of your hole without care. Your whole body shuddered helplessly, hypersensitive after being denied once again. As you attempted to catch your breath, Hanzo reached down and twisted your swollen nipple, forcing you to lock eyes with him.

“I asked you a question, whore; answer me,” the archer commanded, practically growling, “Do you think you deserve to cum on my cock?” As if to punctuate his question, Hanzo slammed his hips forward, fucking you hard enough to pull against the ties at your ankles.

“Fuck! No!” you screamed, on the verge of tears. Your voice was wrecked with desperation, hoping beyond hope that the teasing would be over soon. However, you were soon at the mercy of the vibrator once again, letting out a whine at the feeling of it on your tortured clit. Hanzo sped up his pace, sitting up on his knees to watch every inch of your thoroughly marked body writhe underneath him. “That is right, you cumwhore. You do not deserve the honor of an orgasm at my hand. You are lucky that I am willing to fuck you in the first place.”

The vibrator was shut off once more, and you humped against it frantically, reserve long abandoned. “Go ahead, you stupid whore,” Hanzo encouraged, “Humiliate yourself. I want to see how pathetic you look when you cry.” A sob flew from your lips as the toy buzzed to life, only to be shut off seconds later, then turned on again, a sadistic pattern that made your hips jump and stutter on Hanzo’s cock. You could feel the archer’s perfect rhythm begin to falter, signaling his quickly-approaching climax; his moans burned hot on your skin, sending wave after wave of throbbing pleasure through your trembling body. Finally, you felt Hanzo seize up, almost uncannily still in the wake of his orgasm. Scorching cum flooded your hole, arousing enough to make your battered walls flutter with desire. A few heartbeats later, and Hanzo was crashing back down over you, gulping in air like a dying man. Tenderly, he pressed his sweaty forehead against yours, love and awe written in his furrowed brows and slackened mouth. As he breathed against you, you could feel your own hitching breaths slow, agonising desire fading just slightly into a dull roar.

Two pairs of hands whispered over your body, freeing your limbs from their confines, massaging the marks imprinted upon you by the ropes. You felt yourself float away just a little, untethered by chaste kisses pressed to your cheeks and soft hands stroking your thighs. Hanzo’s shifting body weight brought you back to the present, where Jesse was taking his place between your legs; Hanzo unceremoniously flopped to the side, grace all but forgotten in his post-orgasm haze. Your eyes opened slowly to see Jesse looking down at you, positively fit to burst with quiet affection. You smiled back, tensed and eager all the same.

"Ya did so good, darlin'," Jesse said, tone far softer now, "So good for us. Are ya ready for your reward?"

The praise melted into your skin, smoothing the raw edges that had been so expertly laid bare by Hanzo. With a simple nod, Jesse leaned in to kiss you once more, as slow and saccharine as honey. You embraced him in return, palms gliding over the coarse and ruddy plains of his cheeks; you felt like you were glowing from the inside out. Like a wave drawing across the sand, Jesse retreated, hands whispering down to your thighs. The rest of his body followed close behind, settling down between your legs with practiced ease.

"So beautiful, sweetheart," Jesse praised, "I can't wait to make you cum."

And there it was again, the knife's edge of hot desire. Almost subconsciously, you weaved your hands through Jesse's locks, giving them a tug. Jesse groaned deep in his chest, rekindling the flames in your gut. Your cowboy was so responsive. You pulled his hair again, set alight as Jesse muffled his moans into your sweat-soaked thigh.

“You’re gonna kill me, darlin’,” Jesse threatened, kissing his way towards your drenched pussy. A witty retort died in your throat as his tongue flattened against your swollen lips, lapping at the obscene mixture of cum and slick slowly dripping out of you. “Fuck,” you breathed, struck senseless by the hot-wet pleasure of Jesse’s plush mouth. An answering groan rang in your ears as the cowboy finally dipped his writhing tongue into your hole, drinking in the lewd slurry with feverish dedication. Your hands tightened into fists, pulling Jesse further and further in until his nose was pressed flat against your pussy. You whined; a sharpness ran through you along with pleasure, heightening each in a whirlwind of sensation.

Breathless, Jesse pulled back for a moment, sucking in air like a drowning man. In the low light, you could just make out the shine of your slick soaking the cowboy’s goatee–holy shit, that’s hot. Then, with fervor, Jesse was back to it, making you yelp as he latched onto your clit. You ground against him, his tongue sending shockwaves up and down your body; you were shaking with the oh-god-too-much of it all. Every inhale was a battle. Every movement made you see stars. Then, finally, finally, Jesse tore himself from your body, looking you in the eye as he said, “Cum for me, sweetheart."

You felt the command flow through you, breaking down walls and crashing into your nervous system. Jesse bent his head and sucked your clit hard, bringing you to the very edge once again. Mmm-hmm, mmm-hmm, he encouraged you, nearly whimpering; he was bucking his hips, and fuck, fuck, fuck, shit! You were cumming into Jesse’s mouth, vision whited out by a dazzling starburst. Your legs crashed into the cowboy’s face, pinning him to your gushing pussy as you rode out your orgasm; your whole body was spasming, uncontrollable with pleasure. Then, like a puppet cut loose, you were limp, releasing Jesse from your death grip.

The cowboy shot to his knees, ripping his boxers off as fast as possible; his flushed cock was bared, aching and practically dripping precum. "Fuck, babygirl," he moaned, hand flying, "I'm gonna-fuck, I'm gonna cum!" A final groan, and Jesse was falling off the edge with you, release streaking against your rolling abdomen--followed quickly by Jesse actually falling on top of you.

"Holy shit," you laughed, "Get the hell off of me, you jerk!" A gargled mess that might have been a "no" was your only response for a moment, before the pile of sweat and various sexual fluids that was your boyfriend rolled off of you. You couldn't help but giggle at his dramatics--god, you loved your idiots. A moment of silence permeated the room, until you yawned; oh yeah, it's like three A.M...

"If you two are done, I believe it is time for some aftercare," said Hanzo, sounding equally as tired. With his help, you got up, only to fold in half from the sore feeling radiating through your pelvis--fucking fuck, you forgot how much of a bitch this could be. Seeing your discomfort, Hanzo scooped you up, carrying you to the en-suite bathroom. You heard Jesse follow you in, fetching a second set of sheets from the linens cabinet. Carefully, you were set by the toilet, Hanzo turning to allow you some privacy. After finishing your business, you were escorted to the shower, where the archer tenderly cleaned you off. From there, things got blurry--you vaguely remembered the smell of arnica cream, the feeling of a soothing wipe on your swollen lips, strong arms carrying you to bed, and a tender kiss placed on your forehead. Then, you were off to sleep, dreamless and peaceful.

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! Likes are appreciated, reblogs/comments keep me writing! Let me know what you thought, your favorite passage, or even what time you're reading this at (bonus points if it's 1 A.M. or later). Toodles! ʕ•́ᴥ•̀ʔっ

[hozierandco]

Callum Turner x Reader - The After-Match pt. 2 (SMUT)

A few seconds later, the referee whistled the end of the game, making cheerful and despondent people in the audience.

Cal, 10.56 pm: You better be home in 30 minutes or I'm starting the after-match without you

Y/N, 10.57 pm: I'll be there in no time!

A wave of cheers had engulfed the streets: Chelsea had won and it was only the beginning of a long night for the supporters that had assembled from all around, from Trafalgar Square to Greenwich, from Brixton to Hammersmith.

Horns beeping everywhere, pedestrians with beer in their hand and their voices broken.

"Are you joining us, Callum? We're going to the pub to celebrate!"

"Nah, tonight I'm celebrating with Y/N!"

Callum's friends all chuckled while looking at each other "You lucky bastard!", one snickered.

"We're not holding you back then!", another added.

"Have a great night, lads!", Callum said while getting his coat that had been discarded on the hat stand by the door.

"Yeah, you too!"

There was no time to lose. He could not take a cab since he had not booked any and going with his own two feet would take him nearly an hour. He knew that an hour would be way too long and that his body would not be able to cope.

From the moment he had read that Y/N had been cheeky enough not to wear any undergarments, he had felt a bulge flourishing. He had benefitted from the half-time to try and get rid of the tide that was boiling in his boxers, to no avail.

He then decided to take the tube, hoping in his innermost that the next train wouldn't last too long to arrive and that it wouldn't be too crowded. The Northern line usually was not at that time of the night but it was a game night so who knew...

He ran to the Angel train station as his phone indicated that the next train would be there in 10 minutes.

Cal, 11.09 pm: Shit, Y/N, you've got me running... The things I wouldn't do to fuck you...

Cal, 11.12 pm: U there?

But Y/N too was busy running. If the road from Regent's Park to Primrose Hill was a rather short one, she had taken too much time parting from her friends and was now late for Callum's plans.

Y/N, 11.14 pm: It's only your warm-up Cal'

Cal, 11.16 pm: From now on, it's "sir" for you!

Only a few seconds after reading the instruction, Y/N heard her phone writhe again.

Cal, 11.16 pm: If you're not here in ten minutes, I swear things will go very wrong for you!

It was all that Y/N needed to go back to her running although she was aroused at the idea that things could go "very wrong" according to her boyfriend.

She had one last street to walk by. She looked at her phone: 11.23 pm. Why are the London streets so long, she thought...

Finally the door to the Georgian hôtel particulier they shared with three other tenants. 11.25 pm.

She walked in only to notice that Callum was standing under the bare lightbulb in their living room.

"Congratulations for the game!"

"Yeah...", Callum said absent-mindedly. Y/N understood what Callum was doing: he was going through all the possibilities he had to take as much pleasure with her.

In love, Callum was the romantic type with a twist. It did not take him much to change from Dr. Jekyll to Mr. Hyde but he always valued Y/N's pleasure over his, always listening to the echoes of her lust. He was a passionate lover beyond the shadow of a doubt.

But that night, Chelsea had won and a deal is a deal.

Callum walked in a painfully slow pace towards Y/N with his large hands behind his back. When he was at her level, he stood in a parallel way behind her back and with one hand started descending on Y/N's dress. He had to check by himself.

Careful as not to touch her genitalia for the time being as he was not willing to surrender now, he grazed her hips and noticed that she had not lied.

"You really didn't wear no panties, huh?"

"I wouldn't lie to you, Cal"

Callum clucked his tongue and corrected her while putting his two hands on her shoulders "What did I say? It's "sir" for the misbehaving girls who wear slim dresses with nothing under them"

"I wouldn't lie to you, Sir"

Callum flipped Y/N around so that she was now facing him and ignited a symphony of kisses on her neck, her forehead and finally on her mouth. With each kiss, he went stronger too which Y/N replied by forcing her tongue to meet his.

Callum pulled her even closer and was ready to take her right there on the spot but he had another plans. With the contact of his beige chino trousers over her velvet dress, Y/N could spot the bulge that Callum had tried so hard to hide.

She might have looked a little too much for Callum had to intervene "Since you seem to like what you see, how about you get on your pretty knees and suck me off while you're at it"

"Yes, sir"

Y/N hoped that she would not be the cause for a pond on the floor as she had not anticipated that not wearing underwear could come with such consequences.

She executed herself and got on her knees. Right there, in the living room by the sole light emanating from the lightbulb and with the only sound of the supporters from afar.

She used Callum's legs as a support to get down and nodded at her boyfriend's "Are you okay with that?"

She was eager for the touch she had craved for almost ten days. When Callum had to leave abruptly earlier in the night, she had sensed it as a treason. Surely, he knew what he was doing, not giving her any attention for days and all of a sudden being all smitten.

He knew th ehold he had on her and knew the mess she would become if he started a fire only to let the sparks burning behind him.

Y/N then took Callum's trousers and boxers off in one brief moment, thus revealing the proud length that was finally being acknowledged and addressed.

Without further ado, Y/N stroked the thick column with her right hand, taking care of the two other inhabitants with her other one.

Callum could at last savour the fruit of his team's victory and his patience paying.

He was still standing tall on his two feet and came to the dramatic conclusion that he would soon need a pillar to rest on if he did not wish to fall. And would need one very soon as a matter of fact, considering the speed Y/N had gotten her hands used to. He chose Y/N's hair as a pillar and started running his hands in it.

All in her reactions appeared as though she would follow to the letter his commands. She had hungry plums in place of her eyes that manifested her lust to get more from the interaction. And her mouth was watering in expectation of the forbidden fruit that she would gladly receive. Slight moans slipped through her teeth, echoed by Callum's bestial growl.

Some foam oozed out of the head of his member, which seemed to be the signal Y/N had waited to get her mouth have a taste at it. She lapped up the drops of cum before getting more inside.

"All fucking night, I've been dreaming about this..."

"... And Chelsea winning too, I suppose?" Y/N retorted as she caught her breath back.

"Only close second to this", he assured with a moan on the corner of his lips and his hands directing her mouth to find its way back on where it was aching.

Callum's head tilted back as the petite mort was about to overflow and take him in its wake "Oh! Fuck, Y/N"

Once Callum's cock was empty of its ambrosia, Callum held a hand at Y/N to invite her to stand up and once she stood in front of him, he kissed her. In his kiss, he led the parade towards their bedroom.

"Anything else I can do for you, sir?" Y/N playfully inquired in a moment of respite that her lover had been generous to offer. In fact, he also needed it as he was still panting from the kissing and the blowjob.

"Ride me", Callum said in a deadpan tone.

"Anything you want, sir!"

Callum had only had the time to pick his boxers from the floor of the living room but had relinquished his trousers over there. He lay all of his tall body on the bed, taking off his shirt in the process.

Still standing by the end of the bed, Y/N got her knees on the extremity of it, moving on all fours heading straight and as soft as a panther to her boyfriend.

She straddled him, pushing her hair to one side of her face. As she could feel the bulge forming again under her pounding groin, she took off her dress, passing the piece of cloth over her head. In a second when she did not have eyes on Callum as the dress was right before her eyes, he fondled the two pomegranates that introduce themselves to him.

He had straightened up and was now in a right angle to the headboard. In a perfect position to let his lips wander right between the two breasts.

"Fuck! You just never stop being gorgeous, do you?"

Y/N rubbed her pelvis against the actor's boxers on the spot where his growing protrusion was.

"Good God, I hope you're enjoying yourself... Teasing me like that..."

Y/N continued pleasuring her cavity as she purred at Callum's words. To help her on her merry-go-round and because he was craving more, he held her by her hips, enabling circles of bliss. He felt as though he was a bull on a rodeo stand, enjoying the view and wandering on her stomach, breasts and neck.

If there was one thing Callum loved above all, it was to see Y/N being satisfied. In their sex life, it translated in him usually being aroused by the simple sight of her coming. He could come too if he saw just how great it was for her.

"You're so bloody hot!", he commented almost breathless "but I really need to feel how wet you've gotten for me"

Y/N removed just enough of his boxers to grasp the tip of his cock which she plunged into her in one swift movement and carried on riding her boyfriend"

Y/N came some minutes later, too glad that she was finally getting all the attention she deserved. When Callum joined her, he let go of Y/N as she seemed exhausting from so much riding. As she lay on the bed, he slid under the sheets, to the level of her waterfall, desperate to have a taste of both fluids.

It was Y/N's turn to pull Callum's hair to show him how she wanted to be pleasured which Callum blindly followed. Shutting his eyes, he could feel the drops filling his mouth.

His tongue found its way through the humid weather. Y/N had always loved her lover's meticulousness when it came to that subject. It was as though he was under a mysterious spell, completely in trance. He was devoted and took all his time to give her all that she deserved.

Y/N wiggled under his moving head, moaning louder and louder by every stroke his tongue was taking.

"Callum!", she cried in the night as the supporters had grown quieter.

This time around, Callum did not correct her as having her come with his Christian name on her lips was worth all the gold in the world.

[kurobakachan]

Love is love, isn't it?

Genre: fluff

Ship: queerplatonic Albedo x Sucrose

A part of collab event, @teyvattales I'm Falling For You; prompt: Curling up with a blanket and sipping a hot cocoa.

.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.✭・

October was coming to an end, so the temperature dropped, and the sky was more often covered with rain clouds. Sucrose rushed to her flat to avoid the upcoming rainfall. In a few minutes, she unlocked the door and got rid of shoes and a coat. Unsurprisingly, the flat was dark, indicating that the other person was out of it. She sighed, lit up a small lamp on the table in the room, and walked towards the kitchen.

'Hmm… what do I want to drink?' She asked herself, looking through some shelves and cupboards.

Finally, the green-haired girl decided on a hot cocoa filled with marshmallows. The young alchemist took her favorite yellow mug out of the cupboard and started to prepare a warm drink perfect for such cold and unpleasant fall evenings. After a few minutes, the liquid was poured into the mug and decorated with sweets. She carefully carried it into the room and lit some additional candles on the table. The Anemo wielder covered herself with a warm, fluffy blanket and started to sip her cocoa. The warmth of both these things made her comfortable, which led to one of her favorite activities: thinking.

Apart from being an alchemy nerd, she also loved thinking (or instead overthinking) about specific people, situations that happened or just contemplating nature, experiments, and everyday life. Her thoughts drifted to a particular person who surprisingly changed her life: Albedo. Their first meeting was awkward; neither was good at socializing or understanding social cues, and they felt somewhat uncomfortable around strangers.

After a few meetings, Sucrose thought their shared passion for alchemy might be the clue to getting used to Albedo. In the beginning, the only talks they had were about current activities at the laboratory, methods of experiments, and discussing results. It was a good start for them. Not long after that, young alchemists started sharing their hobbies. Albedo eagerly talked about places and people he liked to sketch while Sucrose was hyping over Hilichurls' bones she had collected. It took them a few months to feel comfortable around each other, but when it happened, they became almost inseparable. Albedo often invited his friend to Good Hunter for delicious cakes and desserts. Those young adults also became a target for gossiping. Kaeya almost every day teased them about not dating and gave them lots of pieces of advice. They felt quite under pressure, and it didn't take even a week to announce their relationship status. It was a weird feeling for both of them. They thought they'd get used to it, but the more they thought about it, the stranger it was. Romantic feelings were too difficult to understand for them; they loved spending time together, sharing thoughts, and even showing some affection, but they acted utterly different from the couples they'd known and felt somewhat uneasy about canonical romantic gestures. Fortunately, Sucrose found an old Sumerian book about love and relationships and immediately showed it to her partner. Finding out about queerplatonic relationships was relieving and reassured them that there was nothing wrong with them. Their bond became even stronger than before, and the happiness they felt was uplifting.

A few months ago, the Anemo wielder moved out of her family house and moved in with Albedo to a small flat in the middle of the City of Mondstadt. It was a new but pleasant experience for them, and they cherished every second of it.

Suddenly, she felt something warm on her shoulder and tensed.

'Sucrose?' A blonde-haired boy asked his frightened partner. 'You've spaced out. You didn't respond to any of my words for three minutes and twenty-one seconds.'

'Ahhh… I'm sorry, Albedo.' She replied, her face flushed with embarrassment. 'I was just overthinking a certain thing.'

'Care to share?' He asked.

'I was just thinking about how lucky I was to meet you.' The green-haired girl smiled at her company.

'Oh, Sucrose. You're the cutest person I have ever known. ' Albedo said, kissing her temple. 'Would you mind if I joined you under the blanket?'

'Come here.' She said, opening her arms and letting the Geo boy in.

Albedo placed himself behind her and dragged her between his legs. He wrapped his arms around Sucrose's waist and rested his chin on her shoulder.

'I missed you.' She stated with a sleepy voice.

'I missed you too, my dearest.'

Soon both of them fell asleep while listening to the rain hitting the windowsill. They felt incredibly warm. Maybe it was just the fluffy blanket, or perhaps it was a soulmate around each other.

[howggswouldreact]

📏 The Only Tall Maknae | Wonyoung

Request: hii can i request an izone wonyoung jealous cuddles scenario with shorter fem!reader? thank uu Plot: Wonyong and the small idol Fem!Reader are in a relationship. During MAMA, Wonyoung gets jealous of her girlfriend. Words: 2,661 Genre: fluff Notes: tried to write it in a way that was closer to the thoughtless attitude of teenagers inexperienced in having a relationship as idols. there are spaces for prequels or part two, maybe. if you want, send me a plot and i will write more from this universe! hope you like it! have a nice week!

Wonyoung was happy to be at MAMA again. What made her even happier, in addition to performing and receiving all the love from Wizones, was that you were there, with her. Not exactly with her, since the location of the tables was made so that her group and yours were somewhat distant, but you both were there, giving sneaky glances at each other and dancing excitedly during more animated performances by groups you liked. You had to control yourselves, trying to be discreet, even though almost all the idols in your circle of friends already knew your closeness was something more. There were cameras there and they weren't kind at all.

You met through friends and have been dating for almost a year. Staying with her took away all your tiredness, reinvigorated your energies and left you with a happiness never felt before. She was the most beautiful and adorable girl in the world. And you were lucky to be her girlfriend. Very lucky.

Your group had made the second comeback in a year and, for the first time, your schedules were proximate. You were doing your best and she was doing her best, and you were able to meet in the meantime.

You just didn't expect to be nominated for Best New Female Artist, but Wonyoung was rooting for you, and when it came time to announce the winning group, you focused on her again and sighed.

"You are just a silly in love.", Soojin's voice sounded low in your ear, clearly mocking your "heart eyes" towards Wonyoung.

You felt your cheeks getting hot. The pros and cons of being a maknae... even though you were spoiled in many moments, your group really liked to make jokes about how you lost the bossy pose when you were with your girlfriend. And also the difference between your height and hers. It was extremely evident! But you loved it, after all, you could hide your face on her neck while you hugged.

"I'm not silly!", you said, smiling.

You turned your face to the stage, where the MC's were about to read the name of the award-winning female group.

Your eyes met Wonyoung's for a moment, looking for strength in case your group didn't win, and you gave her a bigger smile, getting back the most beautiful smile in the world.

Until they announced the name of your group.

There was a round of applause and you were a little lost, in shock, looking at your group mates for answers. Did you imagine things or did you really win? Your expression was so shocked that, at the same time, several fans were already turning into a meme on the social media. Feeling goosebumps come and go through your entire body and a light tug from Soeun on your arm, you got up and went from your table to the stage.

After that, everything went very fast. The leader, Soojin, said gratitude words to the fans, the staffs, everyone who supported the group, promises to continue working hard to deliver a good message through music, etc...

Wonyoung was very proud of you and, as your group came down from the stage and went to a part on the side of it for pictures, Yujin made a joke that she couldn't understand, but it was about the two of you. She looked at Eunbi as if she was seeking approval to come to you, but Eunbi was in a conversation with Nako about the award.

"It was pretty obvious that they were going to win, they are the best!", Yena exclaimed, when a new presentation started.

"You guys make a couple of very powerful maknaes, despite the height difference!", Chaewon whispered, from Wonyoung's left side, making her smile.

A few minutes went by and Wonyoung wanted to be able to go directly to you to congratulate you, even if not in the warm way she would do backstage, with a very tight hug and soft kisses on your lips, calling you "my love". Looking for you at your table, Wonyoung frowned. Your whole group was there, even the prize was there with them, but where were you? Were you at the bathroom?

"Where...", Wonyoung's question died in it's beginning. A few tables on the left, there were you. Holding another girl's hands. And that was enough for Wonyoung to feel her cheeks flush with jealousy and her heart sinking into her chest.

"I can't wait to take several selfies with it! It's so beautiful!", whispered Yein beside you, thinking about the award that was in Soojin's hands.

You nodded as you went up the stairs, until you felt a hand on your shoulder. Turning aroung, shoulders and a smile that formed an enlarged heart were the first things that took over your vision, indicating that the person who called you was tall. You focused your gaze on the face, raising your head, and realized that the owner of the smile was Yeeun, as known as J, a member of StayC. And your friend and classmate.

"Hey!", she greeted you, still smiling, and held your hands. "You rocked up there! I only got time to listen to your group's album yesterday, but it's really good! Congratulations on the award!"

"Oh, thank you so much!", you came a little closer to her to allow the girls to go up the narrow stairs. "I'm in love with your album too. ASAP always manages to make me very happy, even on days when my mood is not... good."

You were not praising each other for no reason, you had known each other long enough to not need formal praises.

"I know how hard you and your group worked for it and it was really deserved.", she had a caring glow in her eyes. "I know I haven't been on this idol journey for a long time but if you need anything, I'm here. I know there may be some difficulties but we will get through them together!"

"You can count on me too, Yeeun. This is not easy at all, but we are managing to achieve our dream almost together! Can you believe it?", you said, smiling excitedly.

Until you felt the lighting of the place get a little darker.

Yeeun's eyes landed on a spot above your head. You turned around to see the reason why there was a shadow on you, and there she was. Your girlfriend.

Yeeun greeted Wonyoung, bowing, while she was standing there, beautiful and in that black outfit full of sparkles that left you mesmerized since the beginning of her presentation.

"Hello, bab-sun-babe-nim!", you stuttered, impacted by the beauty of your girlfriend.

Almost calling her "babe", you tried to fix it by calling her (actually trying to call her) sunbaenim. Even though Yeeun knew about your relationship (you had already told her since you were friends), you didn't want any strangers to know. And that place was full of cameras and ears everywhere. It was risky. But your correction to the soft nickname you used to call her only made Wonyoung raise an eyebrow. There was something in her eyes and you knew it wasn't because of the makeup.

Yeeun greeted her and Wonyoung used a polite education towards the girl of almost the same height, differentiating by a few centimeters almost imperceptible, but that, with you between them, made you look much younger than them, even though the three of us had almost the same age.

Wonyoung praised StayC's performance and Yeeun thanked her before saying bye to you both and heading to the table where her group was at.

You raised your hand to Wonyoung's but the tall girl crossed her arms.

"Hey, what's up?", you asked.

"Nothing.", her tone was harsh and you felt a small pain your in your chest, but she had a smile on her face. A fake smile. "I wanted to be the first to congratulate you, but someone has already done that.", The smile was still on her face, for the cameras, but the tone of voice was still kinda rude towards you. "I can't even hold your hands without hear you saying that some people might be surprised by it, but apparently it's just with me. But, congratulations on the award, Y/N. It was well deserved. The girls and I congratulate your group.", she turned and started walking in towards Izone's table.

"Hey, what's up, Wonnie?", you asked, hurrying to catch up with her, but keeping an expression of false happiness on your face.

"Nothing.", her tone of voice cut into your heart, she hadn't even bothered to turn around.

"Hey, you know I can't keep up with your stride, that's not fair."

She stopped on the stairs, in the corridor that led to where her group's table was, turning to you and you almost ran into her, taking a few steps back.

"Just don't!", her gaze on you was as hard as her voice, but the smile was wide open on her face, it was petrified there.

You stopped as you watched your girlfriend move on without looking back.

"I can really do whatever tomorrow morning, I don't care, I just need to get this sorted out as soon as possible."

"I just think it's too late for you to go there...", Soojin had some concern in her voice.

"Have you texted her yet?", Jiyoon asked, stretched out on the living room floor.

"Several times and she doesn't answer nor even reply my texts since yesterday.", you paced back and forth in front of the television.

"If you keep walking like this, we'll find petroleum," said Soeun.

You sat on the floor next to Jiyoon.

"None of the girls answer you?", asked Seojeong, stretching.

"Hyewon replied that she is in a bad mood and locked herself in the room after dinner."

"What did you do, huh?", Yein asked.

"I don't know!", you almost shout, hiding your face in your hands.

"Oh, go on then because one in a bad mood is one thing but two in bad mood in different groups is a punishment! Go, go!", Soojin pulled you by the arm to get up and started pushing you towards the door .

"But what about the manager..."

"We'll find a way to cover you up, don't worry!", Seojeong said and Soojin closed the door.

You went down the stairs, calling an uber.

"Do you know how late it is?", asked Hyewon, rubbing her eyes and yawning.

"I know you don't usually sleep early, Hyewon. But it's a life-and-death situation!", you replied while removing your shoes in the lobby, only your socks on your feet.

"Death for whom? Only if it is for us, right? The sour mood she was in... I asked if she wanted salad and she almost killed me with her eyes!", with a tone of indignation, Sakura started to speak. "What did you do, huh?"

"I don't know!", you were about to cry. "Can I go and talk to her?"

The two girls nodded and you crossed the room to the hall like a bullet. When you opened the door, the room was dark and you already knew the way to Wonyoung's bed because you visited her sometimes. But instead of lying down, you knelt beside the bed, even in the dark, and whispered her name. You wanted to hold her hand but you were afraid. If she was upset with you, she probably wouldn't want you even there.

"Wonyoung?", you called again, this time in a louder tone.

"I can't believe you came here even after I treated you like that."

You didn't understand what the phrase meant.

"Can I lie down?", you asked, receiving in response Wonyoung moving her body to give you some space.

You embraced her in a hug, hoping she wouldn't reject it, even with her back to you. Again, her answer did not come in words. She held your arm around her.

"What did I do? Tell me so I won't repeat it.", your face was on her back.

"I'm feeling ashamed."

"Of me?"

"No! Of you??? Never! I'm ashamed of myself. I can't even look at you...", she confessed.

You were still confused, but you hugged her tighter. You wanted her to feel you there.

"You don't have to. You didn't do anything wrong, Wonnie..."

You heard a loudest sigh and she turned to you, resting her hand on your neck and touching your foreheads.

"I... I was an idiot. You, your group, had just won one of the most important awards of the night! I myself know how it feels to win it, I know how rewarding it is and... at the moment I-I didn't support you because I was... jealous.", you knew you shouldn't interrupt her, she was venting out. "I wish I could've hugged you and praised you... I feel so proud of you and everyting that you have achieved... but I saw you with that girl and she was holding your hands and she was smiling with such affection, I don't know what I was feeling other than jealousy.", her voice showed a little bit of anger and fragility but she kept her hand on your neck, caressing it. "I was wondering if she was special enough to show affection like that in front of so many cameras... if you liked tall maknaes and...", at that moment you laughed. "Hey, don't laugh! This is not funny at all!", she slapped you lightly on the shoulder.

"No, babe, what's funny is that you think I could have eyes for anyone but you."

"Yeah, you go ahead and think it's funny! And if it were me with, I don't know, a short maknae like you, holding her hands, wouldn't you be jealous when you saw it from a distance, without having an idea of ​​what's going on? Would it be funny?"

"Yah! I get it! Don't even make me think of you with someone else.", you took her wrist and stroked it. "Yeeun is just a friend from school and she was congratulating me. There was nothing else. There would never be. She knows about us and gives the greatest support! I just didn't get to introduce you decently because there is never enough time. I want you to see that you don't have to feel jealous because you are the only tall maknae I love. I love you. "

"I'm sorry for ruining everything and making you come here almost at the dawn. You shouldn't have come so late!", she pulled you into a tight hug. "But at the same time I'm so glad and relieved you came.", she whispered that last sentence.

"I would come at anytime.", you whispered back, kissing her cheek.

"It's too late for you to leave. What are you going to do? We can arrange everything for you to stay.", you were going to talk but Wonyoung wouldn't let you. "We can really work it out, make up a very good lie for the managers, take you back to the dorm quickly tomorrow very early. I imagine you have a lot of commitments now that you've won the award but... it's so late... and I want you to stay with me."

"Okay, I'll stay.", you replied, without thinking. "But I need some clothes to sleep."

"Okay, you can borrow Nako's pajamas."

"Hey!"

"I'm kidding!", Wonyoung laughed. "You can borrow one of mine. It'll be huge on you, but you look beautiful anyway."

Embarrassed, you hid your face on her neck and felt her presence for a while, a warm embrace full of a young love that was blooming beautifully. The next day, you would have to deal with your manager scolding you a lot, knowing he would be right, but for now, you would enjoy your time with Wonyoung. Whatever happened next, it wouldn't matter. What mattered now was to be with the only tall maknae that you loved with all your heart.

[seriouslysnape]

Miscommunication (pt.2)

James Potter x Remus Lupin x Sirius Black x Fem! Reader

Warnings: Language. Poly! relationship. 

A/N: Part 1 is here!

Word Count: 3,376

“But that doesn’t mean I don’t care about you.”

It had been three weeks since you had stormed out of the boys’ dorm in a scurry of anger. It had also been three weeks since you had touched, talked to, or even spared Sirius a passing glance. As far as you were concerned, he didn’t even exist. Despite your dramatic exit, Sirius was confident that you’d crack soon enough and come running back to him, begging for forgiveness. But the more time that passed, the more that he was beginning to realize that might not be the case.

In a general sense, life continued on as it always had. You walked through the Hogwarts’ corridors with the three Gryffindors, laughing at James’ jokes and blushing red under Remus’ kisses. You gave all your love and time to James and Remus, not offering Sirius a drop of your attention. 

He tried to ignore it. He tried to brush it off like it didn’t bother him and like it didn’t make a difference whether you were with him or not. His attempts to drown you out the way you had been drowning him out were successful at first, but it only took about a week for him to realize how much this was killing him.

In the mornings, you woke James or Remus up (depending on whose bed you slept in the night before) with bubbly kisses and sweet giggles, something that you had always done for all three of the boys’ wake up calls. Sirius had gone almost 23 days (but not like he was COUNTING or anything) since he had any kind of interaction with you.

No cuddles.

No hugs.

No kisses.

Nothing.

The whole situation put James and Remus into a bit of an awkward position. You were on great terms with the two of them, considering they hadn’t insulted you and invalidated your feelings right in your face. This was a difficult challenge to tackle, because they felt guilty for continuing to love up on you when Sirius wasn’t getting his usual share. This was a rather particular arrangement that had taken lots of trial and error to make the right adjustments. Now that the balance had been thrown off, the whole thing didn’t feel right.

James and Remus had both tried to convince you to talk things out with Sirius. They knew that deep down this wasn’t what you wanted, and things couldn’t go on like this forever. James and Remus knew Sirius better than anybody. They were fully aware that Sirius was regretting what he had done and was kicking himself for it...even if Sirius wouldn’t show it or admit to it. 

Sirius was beginning to lose precious sleep over this. He tossed and turned in his bed that had grown so lonely without you. His arms felt so empty not being wrapped around you, holding you snugly to his body. Suddenly, he didn’t have anyone to help him with his Potions homework or someone to remind him about his Transfiguration exam coming up. He didn’t have the girl that completed the complex puzzle that was Sirius Black. He felt so unfinished without you.

He missed you.

But his pride was winning out.

“How’s the brat today?” Sirius questioned dryly, not even looking up from his Herbology textbook in his lap.

“Sirius.” Remus and James echoed, clearly displeased at Sirius’ cold name for you.

Over the last three weeks, Sirius would ask about you when you weren’t around and he was alone with the boys. He would ask how you were doing, but what he really wanted to know was if you had said anything about him or given any indications that you were close to giving in. James and Remus were growing impatient with Sirius. They had tried to step back, allowing both yourself and Sirius to have time to allow your fog of frustration to air out. They had hoped that Sirius would come around to realize that he had been wrong in all kinds of ways, and you both could work it out on your own.

Between stepping all over your feelings like they were a sidewalk and calling you a bitch for being rightfully upset, Sirius had one too many strikeouts on his record.

“What? If she’s going to act like a child, then I’ll treat her like one.” Sirius growled.

James crossed his arms over his chest, leaning back in the chair that he was sitting in by the common room’s fireplace. Remus watched the two of them from over the rim of his cup that contained his favorite hot tea. 

“She’s hurt, Sirius. You hurt her,” James snarled, eyebrows furrowed in agitation, “I don’t blame her for not wanting to talk to you.”

“Did you not hear the things she said to me? She was totally out of line.” Sirius argued, his demeanor going rigid and his defensive mode kicking into high gear.

“Because you pushed her too hard,” Remus cut in, “She has every right to be upset.”

Sirius was shocked that they were taking your side over his. You were never allowed to speak to any of them the way you had talked to Sirius that day. You weren’t allowed to talk back, get an attitude, touch yourself without permission, as well as other rules that had been established early on in the relationship. They all took the rules very seriously, and the fact that James and Remus were brushing it off was mind boggling to Sirius.

“I didn’t push her at all. She caught an attitude with me.” Sirius remarked tossing his textbook aside.

“Because you don’t always treat her the way you should,” Remus snapped, “All she wanted was for you to listen and talk to her.” 

“Do I not already do enough for her? I walk her to class, I let her sleep with me, not to mention that I fuck her pretty much whenever she wants,” Sirius pointed out, “And now I’m still not doing enough?”

James shook his head, sighing harshly. He was disappointed that he still wasn’t getting it. 

“She’s our girl, Padfoot. She responds so well to Moony and me because she knows how much we love her,” James explained, “You’ve got to start treating her like you love her.”

Sirius’ hardened features went light at what James was saying. He looked between his two best friends, who were sharing matching expressions of urgency. Sirius felt a sickening feeling creeping into his stomach that he could feel all the way up into his throat. Had you gone this whole time thinking that he didn’t love you like the other two did?

“But...I do love her.” Sirius spoke, almost in a whisper.

James and Remus looked at one another briefly, a bit relieved that he was maybe starting to see clearly now.

“She doesn’t know that. You’re going to lose her for good if you don’t change some things, Pads.” Remus added once he saw that Sirius was beginning to have a serious breakthrough moment.

That surely got Sirius’ attention. That wasn’t something he wanted at all. It made his heart hurt even to think about possibly never being with you again. He had to fix this, no matter what he had to do or say.

He just hoped that it wasn’t too late.

The remorse and the contrition that he was feeling that had been building up in him over the last three weeks was finally seeping through the cracks of the surface. It was like a fire that just kept spreading and spreading until the only thing he could see were the hot, orange flames and black smoke that would suffocate him if he breathed in too hard. It was like a switch had flipped. He couldn’t stand it anymore. He didn’t care about his pride or his image or his dignity. 

He just wanted you back.

So, the boys began to devise a plan. Sirius admitted that he didn’t know how to even begin apologizing to you. He wasn’t great with apologies, considering that even the word ‘sorry’ probably had only fallen from his mouth only a couple of times in his life. This was going to take some calculation and planning to get it right. 

You had been doing a bang up job of ensuring that you weren’t ever alone with Sirius. You made sure that either James or Remus was by your side whenever you were in Sirius’ presence, to avoid being forced to speak to him. Remus and James were confident that they could get you two in a room alone together. That was the easy part. The hard part would fall to Sirius, which came down to the actual apology.

James and Remus knew you’d be suspicious if Sirius apologized first. You’d likely only think he was apologizing because he was touch starved and wanted sex, not because he cared about you and was terrified of losing you. In their eyes though, as long as he was honest and didn’t lose his cool, you’d be able to see his real intentions.

Remus had told you to meet him in their dorm, and that no one would be there until later in the day. That seemed pretty normal to you, so you didn’t even give it a second thought. The dorm was empty when you arrived, prompting you to slip out of your uniform and into one of Remus’ sweaters all while getting comfortable on his bed. Shortly after you were settled, the three boys congregated just outside the door, whispering in their semi-circle formation.

“You got this, mate. Just be normal and be honest,” James instructed, “I guarantee you that she’s missing you just as much.”

Sirius was nervous. Not because he didn’t know what to say or what to do, but because he had half convinced himself that you had already decided he wasn’t worth your time anymore. He couldn’t live with himself if he was the reason you had left him.

“We’ll be out here just in case you need us,” Remus piped up, “It’s gonna be fine, Pads.”

James and Remus gave Sirius reassuring grins as Sirius took a deep breath before turning the knob of the door. He entered the small dorm room, his heart fluttering when he saw you sitting on Remus’ mattress. Your head snapped up, your face full of delightful expectation for Remus, but it faded just as fast as it came when you saw it was Sirius. He definitely noticed, but tried not to take it to heart. Your eyes were locked in with his, and you could already tell something was up.

“Hey.” Sirius said plainly, and in a bit of a squeak.

“Hi.” You replied.

He was honestly surprised that you actually gave him an answer. He thought you might’ve ignored him completely. The joyous relief that he felt from you actually talking to him was almost enough to send him to his knees, pleading for you to give him another chance. 

His gaze did shift to the book that was placed next to you. It was your Herbology textbook, the same one that Sirius had been studying from earlier that day.

“Studying for Herbology?” Sirius asked, but obviously that wasn’t what he wanted to talk about.

“Yeah,” You answered, unsure of what exactly was happening, “I was just waiting for Remus.”

Sirius nodded, avoiding the sting that burned in his chest at the reminder that he hadn’t truly seen you in almost a month. You looked so comfortable in the large sweater and the blanket that was draped over your lap. Your hair was slightly messy from the breeze outside that you had walked through to get here. Your skin was glowing from the warmth of their room and the sudden interaction you were having with Sirius.

You looked perfect to him.

He knew he needed to say something now. He needed to kick start this conversation before things got awkward and weird. Although, he never minded silence as long as he had you to occupy his every thought. All the things that he had planned to say were abruptly wiped from his mind. He was going out on a limb here, totally about to wing this. He just had to go for it.

“Can I sit?” He questioned, referring to the slight open space next to you.

You nodded hesitantly, shifting over so he could have a little more room. He sat down just about a foot in front of you, both of you turning to face each other. James and Remus were just outside the door, their ears pressed up against the door to be sure they didn’t miss anything.

Sirius looked at you for a few moments, taking in your curious, attentive behavior. He took a breath, and spoke again, but it came out as more of a ramble.

“Baby, I know I’ve hurt your feelings. I didn’t want or mean to hurt your feelings, but sometimes I just say stupid shit and then I’m too proud to admit that I said something stupid and...” He trailed off when he realized that so far he wasn’t saying anything that you didn’t already know. 

This was yet another reminder that Sirius wasn’t a great talker. But he wanted to let you know the things that you didn’t already know. He wanted you to know that he was truly sorry. He was sorry for ever making you feel like you weren’t worth anything to him. 

He wanted you to know that you were his world.

“I miss you,” He began again, preparing for any possible reaction from you,  “I’m sorry for everything I said. I’m sorry that I hurt you...I never, ever wanted to do that.”

Your silence wasn’t because you weren’t believing what he was saying or because you didn’t want to listen. You were silent because you were floored that this was happening. Never in a million years did you think that you’d be sitting here listening to a real, heartfelt apology from Sirius Black. The thought of you leaving him had really scared him, and you could see it.

“I know I’m different from Moony and Prongs. They’re a bit better at this than I am,” He admitted, “But that doesn’t mean I don’t care about you.”

Truth be told, you weren’t really mad at Sirius anymore. You could never stay angry at him. Your whole avoid-Sirius-at-all-costs routine hadn’t exactly been a walk in the park for you either. There were several times where you were tempted to just let it go and forget about it. But now you were glad that you hadn’t done that, because you would’ve lost this opportunity to understand one another a little better.

“All I had wanted that day was to talk to you. I like talking to you,” You explained, “I just get frustrated when you don’t want to listen and the only thing you can think about is fucking me.”

Sirius sighed, his eyes diverting to his hands that were fiddling with the edge of the blanket in your lap. He had known that the other two boys were right, but hearing it come from you made him feel even more guilty.

“I know. I guess I’m just not good at talking. It’s not that I didn’t want to, it’s just...not what I’m good at. I’m sorry that I made you feel like you weren’t important,” Sirius confessed, “But I do love you. And I don’t want to go another day without you.”

Another silence filled the room, one that had Sirius’ heart pounding in his chest. He felt like his entire life was on the line. Like, his entire fate was resting on whatever you were going to say or do next. You had every right to get up and walk out and never speak to him again. He knew he had crossed so many lines so many times that it was a wonder you were still here. He just hoped that you’d give him another chance. He hoped that he deserved another chance.

You were starstruck. You were completely touched and moved by what he had said. Maybe it wasn’t the most flawless apology ever. Maybe it was a little rough around the edges with a couple of hiccups. But deep down it was true, honest, and pure. 

Just like the Sirius Black that you had come to love.

He didn’t have anything else to say, and he hoped that what he had said was enough. Your warm hand came to his face, his head lulling into your palm when you brought his worried eyes to look at you once more. 

“I love you. I promise you don’t have to go without me anymore.” You smiled, accepting his apology and offering your forgiveness.

All color returned to Sirius’ face, his shoulders relaxing and his chest releasing a bated breath. You captured his lips into a needy kiss, one that was nothing short of long awaited. Sirius’ hands came to the side of your neck, his blood pumping in his ears. He had missed this. 

He had missed you.

He was even more thrilled when you crawled over into his lap, his hands guiding your legs around him as he refused to let you go from his lips. Although, when the other two boys came bursting in, your hot make out session was forced to a halt. They came in as if they had no idea what was going on, fake surprised expressions plastered on their faces.

“Well, hello there.” James chided with a smirk.

“Did we miss something?” Remus asked.

You and Sirius only laughed, as the four of you crammed together on Remus’ bed. Sirius continued to pepper kisses wherever he could while you craned your head to look at James as he spoke.

“So, I guess the two of you got things worked out?” James acquired. 

“We sure did.” You smiled, giggling when Sirius’ kisses brushed against a particularly sensitive spot on your neck.

Your lips found his again, Sirius leaning you back onto the mattress and keeping secured there. When your breathing began to get heavy and your noises became a little hungrier, James and Remus announced their exit.

“Well, I suppose Prongs and I will leave you to it.” Remus winked.

Sirius broke the kiss only to respond, but that didn’t stop you from leaning upwards to suck on his pulse point, not even phased by what Remus had said.

“You two aren’t going to stick around?” Sirius wondered, groaning as your hips rolled into his quickly hardening dick through his pants.

James shrugged.

“We’ll let it slide this time,” He said triumphantly, ushering Remus out the door, “Besides, the two of you have some catching up to do.”

Sirius let out a guttural laugh as he took a moment to look down at you. You looked so beautiful sprawled out underneath him; your lips swollen from the kissing and your eyes blown with lustful expectation. He knew he’d never be able to take you for granted again.

“My pretty girl...” He mewled, “I love you. A million times over I’ll tell you that I love you.”

“I love you, Siri,” You hummed, swiping a loose piece of hair from his forehead, “Now make me cum the way I know you know how to.”

Sirius chuckled lowly at your boldness, his pupils dilating at the flush of arousal that sent through him. You knew better than to tell him how to run his show, but he knew this was a special occasion, so he didn’t mind taking an order or two. 

“Well, now, what happened to ‘sex doesn’t fix everything’?” Sirius joked.

“It doesn’t, but we already fixed what needed to be fixed by talking,” You smiled, “Now we just both get something we want.”

Sirius laughed out loud, continuing his shower of kisses and swiping your skirt off in one swift move, your body squirming with anticipation. He felt confident that things would be better now. He was more than thankful that he had another shot at this. He was happy he had you back, and the four of you could go back to normal.

And now things would be even better than before.

***

Tags: @justadreamyhufflepuff​ @satellitespidey​ @blackpinkdolan​ @gubleryum​ @gxtitobxby​ @risingtripletaurus​​

[goldenraeofsun]

A/b/o + celebrities and/or coffee shop 👀

Thanks so much for the prompt, Julesy, and I'm so sorry for the long wait! Part II should be up in the next few days, but hopefully this beginning 7k will satisfy for the time being 😘

Castiel is elbow-deep in suds when Jo plunks a medium to-go cup on the edge of the sink. “Thank you?” he says, bemused.

“It’s not for you, doofus,” Jo says, rolling her eyes. “There’s a customer out back,” she jerks her head towards the service exit that leads to the alley where they dump their trash and Ruby takes her furtive smoke breaks. “I need you to take this to him.”

“Out back?” Castiel repeats dubiously, craning his neck to catch sight of their on-site baker, Benny, who is busy kneading focaccia dough for tomorrow’s sandwiches. Benny, full of southern politeness, doesn’t give any indication he’s eavesdropping.

Jo gives Castiel a short nod, her alpha scent flaring with irritation. “I’d take it out there myself, but he always talks my ear off, and Kevin still can’t draw a latte art that doesn’t look like a dick, so…”

Castiel frowns but nods, and Jo’s expression eases once she doesn't hear a challenge to her request. Still, he has to ask, “But why doesn’t he order at the counter like a normal customer?”

Jo takes a step back towards the door. “You’ll see. Just… don’t make a big deal of it.”

“A big deal of what?” Castiel calls to her, but she’s already disappeared out to the front of the cafe.

Castiel sighs and wipes his hands on a dish towel. He picks up the drink, sniffing curiously.

He nearly gags at the strong aroma of brown sugar, cinnamon, nutmeg, and apples all on top of espresso and milk. They definitely don’t serve that on the menu. Admittedly, Castiel hasn’t memorized the list of hot drinks they serve at Hunter’s Cafe, but this is an assault on anyone with a nose. He’s been their busboy and dishwasher for six months since his second year as a graduate student began, and Jo has only let him mind the counter three times, all as far from peak time as she could get.

But a job is a job. Holding the drink, he shoulders open the back door.

“Hey - oh, you’re not Jo,” a familiar voice says.

Castiel stops dead in his tracks because, despite the sunglasses, the baseball hat, and hunched shoulders, Dean Winchester is unmistakable.

Away from the limelight, Dean apparently favors soft-looking flannels over worn tee shirts and jeans. In one hand, he holds a half depleted sheaf of french fries. Stunned, Castiel doesn't immediately hand over the reason for his appearance.

“Whatever, is that mine?” Dean demands, zeroing in on Castiel’s cup.

Still beyond speech, Castiel dumbly hands the affront to coffee over.

After a muttered thanks, Dean takes a long drink. “Christ, this tastes even better than normal.”

Castiel inhales a surreptitious breath. It’s not every day one gets to catch the scent of Hollywood’s omega darling.

Not that anyone would know Dean's secondary gender just by looking at him. Dean stands a few inches taller than the average male omega - he has nearly an inch of height on Castiel, and Castiel is the dictionary definition of standard alpha physique.

While Castiel might not be Dean’s most knowledgeable fan, he hasn’t been living under a rock for the past five years. It was all over the papers when Dean was cast in his first alpha role. Dean wasn’t the first omega actor to do so, but he was certainly the most prominent. Castiel’s sister, Anna, an actual fan, spent a memorable dinner ranting about how all the prejudiced reporters on the press tour. Apparently they only asked Dean about the diet and exercise routine that transform into a “real” alpha, while, in the next round, his alpha castmates fielded questions about their characters’ moral code and complex development.

But, in the alley behind Hunter’s Café, Castiel’s nose is completely overwhelmed by the fryers of the fast food restaurant next door, the set of dumpsters directly to his right, and the almost offensively apple coffee Dean is currently drinking like his life depends on it. Dean could smell like old gym socks for all Castiel can tell.

“Where’s Jo?” Dean asks once he resurfaces. He jams a few fries in his mouth. Before he's finished chewing, he sucks down some more latte in an unholy taste combination.

“Busy,” Castiel replies. “We have a new hire, and so far Kevin can only draw genitalia on lattes instead of flowers.”

Dean guffaws, nearly inhaling his drink. Swearing unrepentantly, he takes his sunglasses off and rubs at his temple with his free hand. “Christ, I’m too hungover to laugh like that.” He squints over at Castiek before sliding the sunglasses back on his face.

Castiel stares. “If you’re hungover, why are you here at -” he checks his watch “-seven in the morning?”

Dean slurps at his fruity latte before he answers. “Got a meeting at nine. This,” he says, brandishing his mostly empty cup, “and a large fries are the cure.” His hands occupied, Dean ducks his head to fish a single fry out and holds it like a cigarette between his lips.

“That sounds disgusting,” Castiel says, aghast.

Dean inches the rest of the fry into his mouth. “Don't knock it ‘til you try it,” he says with a wink.

Cas blushes.

“Hey,” Dean says, a new thought coming to him, “What’s your name?”

Taken aback by the question, he answers, “Castiel.”

Dean mouths his name once, his brow furrowing at the new syllables. With a small shrug of capitulation he says, “Well, Cas, thanks for the drink.” He toasts him one before tipping the cup all the way back, draining it.

“You’re welcome, Dean.”

Dean grins. “I couldn't tell if you recognized me or not.”

“I did,” Castiel says, clearly unnecessarily.

Amused, Dean throws him a long, considering look. “You’ve got one hell of a poker face.” He unceremoniously shovels the rest of the fries in his mouth and balls up the wrapper. He tosses it with practiced ease into the waiting dumpster.

“Thank you?” Cas says, nonplussed.

“Thank you,” Dean says, pushing his sunglasses up his nose. “You’re the one who saved my hide.” He sidles forward and shoves a bill into Castiel’s slack hand. Without another word, he takes off out of the alley and onto the street.

Once he’s out of sight, Castiel unclenches his hand. Dean tipped him ten dollars.

* * *

“How is this even more pungent than last time?” Castiel demands, nose wrinkling as he sets a now clean muffin tin back on the shelf. It’s been a week since he met Dean Winchester, and hadn’t gotten so much as a whiff of apple pie since then.

He is alone with Jo in the kitchen, since Benny’s early morning shift ends at eleven.

“I added a caramel drizzle,” Jo says, her scent rising with her self-satisfaction.

Castiel stares at her in horror. “Why on earth would you do that?”

“’Cause I’m trying to see what his limit is, and so far - nothing,” Jo says, shrugging. “Get to it. He’s real grouchy if you make him wait too long.”

“And why aren’t you taking it to him?” Castiel says, eyebrows rising. “Kevin’s moved onto multiple hearts now. Admittedly, his first one looked like a labia, but he’s gotten much better.”

“But Ruby didn’t show up, so we’re short staffed,” Jo says shortly. Outside, Kevin yells something indistinguishable though the kitchen door, and Jo winces.

Castiel takes the latte.

Just like last time, Dean is waiting, wearing a different flannel but the same jeans with the hole above the left knee. He abandoned the sunglasses, since the clouds overhead cast the whole alley in shade. They’re hanging from the vee of his shirt collar, pulling the fabric down a tempting extra inch.

Unfortunately, the fast food restaurant next door must have just taken out the trash last night, since the alley reeks of stale bread and rotting fish patties.

Castiel lets the door slam behind him, unable to hold back his corresponding smile as Dean lights up as he sees him.

“Thank god,” Dean says as he reaches for the latte. “I was starting to think Jo was gonna stiff me.”

“We’re short staffed at the moment,” Castiel says apologetically, “so you got me again.”

Dean eyes him over the lid of his cup. “Not a downside from where I’m standin’,” he drawls.

Castiel has no idea how to respond to that, so he doesn’t. Dean can’t mean it like Castiel thinks he does. He’s an actor, feeding people lines is the dictionary definition of his job. Instead Castiel asks, “No french fries this time?” because he’s not nearly ready to leave yet.

“Already ate ’em, while I was waiting,” Dean says dismissively.

Castiel shoves his hands in his pockets. “I’m sorry.”

“No harm, no foul,” Dean says with a little grin. “I got my caffeine fix eventually, and that’s what I really care about.”

“You look remarkably more put together than last time,” Castiel says as he leans against the doorway, watching Dean sip at his drink.

“Didn’t drink as much,” Dean says with a grin. He tips back his cup and takes a long pull. “Fries can only get you halfway there. Christ, that’s the stuff.”

Castiel can’t help but make a face. The latte smells horrendous; it can’t taste that much better.

“What?” Dean asks, eyes narrowing.

Castiel probably shouldn’t tell Dean what is exactly on his mind. Castiel has found very few people appreciate his default brand of honesty - Hunter’s Café customers, especially. But Dean isn’t technically his customer - he’s Jo’s - and Castiel has reached the point in his life where he doesn’t need to hang onto people who don’t like him and vice versa. Dean isn’t even providing extra publicity for the establishment, since he’s getting serviced in the alley behind the kitchen.

Technically, Castiel needs a celebrity acquaintance as much as he needs a free bag of cat food (he doesn’t have a cat).

But he does like having one.

A celebrity acquaintance, that is. Cats are inherently suspicious.

Reluctantly, Castiel says, “I can’t imagine that latte tastes very good.”

To his surprise, instead of demanding Jo bring him his coffee from now on, Dean laughs. “Not a fan of apple pie?”

“Not in my coffee.”

Dean takes an obnoxiously loud slurp. “I think it’s delicious.”

“I think your taste buds must be severely incapacitated.”

Dean waggles the near empty cup in front of Castiel’s face in what must be an enticing manner to someone with no sense of smell or taste. “Wanna try?”

Castiel valiantly holds back his recoil. “No, thank you.”

But Dean’s genial expression doesn’t waver. “‘M feeling pretty much human again, so it’s up for grabs.”

“I’d sooner lick the dumpster,” Castiel blurts before he can filter himself.

Dean whistles, rocking back on his heels. “Harsh.”

Castiel sighs. Honesty was a mistake. He mutters, embarrassed, “I’m just not a very big fan of sweets.”

“No?”

“I’ve been living with my cousin while in graduate school at Columbia,” he explains, his tone apologetic for his earlier comment, “and he has a horrendous sweet tooth. I don’t think he’s ever seen a carrot that wasn’t in a cake first.”

A wide grin splits Dean’s face. He laughs.

What Castiel wouldn’t give to scent Dean’s joy for himself. “He would probably love that latte,” Castiel continues wryly.

“Probably,” Dean agrees. He taps his fingers against the sides of the cup as he asks, “So you’re in school? For what?”

“Do you really want to know?” Castiel asks seriously. He’s had too many conversations with strangers and casual friends who have asked the exact same question and regretted asking it almost immediately.

Dean ducks his head. “I don’t know any graduate students, and I,” he breaks off, his cheeks going pink, “I never went to college, so I have no idea what it means.” He sucks on the dregs of his latte, gaze dropping to the vicinity of Castiel’s knees.

“Oh,” Castiel says, feeling lighter. “In that case, I’m studying ethnomusicology.”

Dean’s eyes narrow in suspicion. “Are you fucking with me? That doesn’t sound real.”

“It’s a legitimate area of study,” Castiel assures him. “I research music as it pertains to culture and diverse elements of social life. Ethnomusicology focuses not only on the music itself, but music as a social process, as a medium for humans to relate to each other. In short, it examines how music functions in a particular society.”

To Castiel’s surprise, Dean doesn’t get the glazed-over look most people do when he explains his field of study. “So what kind of music are you talking about?”

Now it’s Castiel’s turn to flush. His colleagues, while they respect his academic reputation, have nearly all looked down on his chosen object of study. “One of the main tenets of ethnomusicology is a global perspective on music-”

“What, like Tibetan throat-singing?” Dean interrupts. At Castiels’ stare, he explains quickly, “Sammy had a phase.”

Castiel chuckles. “Yes, I do know a professor at Cornell who is studying just that. But my focus is much closer to home. I study,” he inhales a small breath, “tribute bands.”

Dean’s mouth twitches. “What.”

“Tribute bands offer a fascinating definition of the nature of performance, the difference between authenticity and identity,” Castiel says, already on the defensive. He can already hear his voice trying to fall into his usual academic patterns, and tries to rein himself in, “and historical consciousness in popular music. Here -” He pulls out his phone.

Dean listens in complete silence to Yellow Dubmarine’s cover of I Want You.

“Anyway,” Castiel coughs, embarrassed he made Dean sit through all that, “I also teach Rock and Roll from the 1950s to 1980s. There is a great deal of crossover with my specialty since most tribute bands recreate acts from the 60s to the 80s.”

“Dude,” Dean says in a rush, “if you think that makes you less interesting, you’ve got another thing coming.”

Castiel blinks.

“What bands are we talkin’ about?” he asks eagerly. “More Beatles? The Stones? The Who?”

Castiel nods. “I’m hoping to go to a Lez Zeppelin concert next month.”

“Led Zeppelin?”

“Lez,” Castiel says, emphasizing the ‘z’, “an all-female Led Zeppelin tribute band.”

Dean frowns. “They have a gimmick?”

Castiel shakes his head. “They’re completely sincere, I assure you.” He smiles wryly. “I interviewed Misstallica for a paper I’m writing on diverse, for lack of a better word, musicians in the tribute world, and they felt right at home with the long hair and tight pants. I’ve never met people who more adore the songs they perform.”

“Huh,” Dean says, rubbing his chin.

“Except maybe Air-O-Smith,” Castiel adds, “an American all-omega tribute band of Aerosmith.”

Dean’s eyes widen to the size of dinner plates.

“My favorite all-omega tribute band, though, is Omega You Eight One Two,” Castiel muses, “a Van Halen cover band.”

“Yeah, I got that,” Dean says faintly.

“Their lead guitarist, as you can imagine, is phenomenal.”

Dean shakes his head, his expression going slack. “Wait, seriously? That’s a thing? All omega acts?”

“Of course,” Castiel says. “That’s one of the most compelling aspects of tribute bands, when they flip the traditional male-alpha dynamic of the original, and how they translate that into their own act while keeping the whole performance authentic to the creators. It’s a fascinating process to watch and study.”

“I bet,” Dean says fervently. “Hey, d’you think-”

The back door opens before Dean can finish his sentence.

Jo pokes her head out, looking askance at the pair of them. “Are you still out here?” She glares at Dean. “Stop complaining about your diet, and let Castiel come back to work.”

Castiel’s mouth purses. “You’re on a diet?”

“Not on cheat day,” Dean tells him, lifting his empty cup. He turns to Jo. “And I wasn’t complaining at all. Cas was actually telling me about tribute bands.”

“Really?” Jo asks, her nose wrinkling.

Dean tosses his trash in the dumpsters. “They sound awesome.”

“I like them,” Castiel says lamely, off-footed now the conversation is clearly wrapping up.

Jo rolls her eyes, alpha irritation practically radiating off her. “Good for you.”

“Alright, well, I’ll let you deal with Joanna Beth on your own,” Dean says as he pulls out his wallet and hands Castiel a folded bill. He gives a mocking salute as he takes a step back, “Good luck, dude.”

“Thank you?”

“Come on, fanboy,” Jo growls once Dean’s disappeared from view, “back to work.”

* * *

“Can’t you take it?” Castiel asks, his tone verging on pleading, as Jo follows him back into the kitchen. It’s too early in the morning for another meeting, closer to first time Castiel met Dean at seven am compared to their last meeting at a little before eleven.

This past weekend, Castiel went down a spiral of Dean Winchester content. He read up on all of Dean’s recent projects, scanned headlines about rumors of his next film - some action thriller that Castiel presumes is the reason for Dean’s diet, and watched interview after interview. Dean on Stephen Colbert. Dean on Good Morning America. Dean on some very confusing show where they forced him to eat spicy chicken wings, which just seemed like an exercise in pepper-based sadism.

Castiel didn’t really understand the Saturday Night Live skit where Dean played one half of a demon-hunting brother duo, but the live studio audience laughed uproariously at multiple points.

Jo all but slams Dean’s latte on the ledge above the sink. “You know the health inspector is here. I can’t let Ruby near the guy, and you know how Kevin gets around figures of authority.”

Castiel sets down his tub of dirty dishes. “He nearly peed himself when he had to tell you he dropped a tray of scones over the floor last week,” he says flatly.

“Exactly,” Jo says. “Benny is busy,” she says, tipping her head to where Benny is adding more flour to a huge bowl.

“Cheers, darlin’.”

She turns back to Castiel. “So, you’re it today, champ.”

“Great,” Castiel grumbles.

“What?” Jo asks, her hands on her hips. “You seemed to get along with Dean. I actually didn’t know you could talk that much before I sent you back there.”

Castiel carefully transfers the dirty plates to the sink. “Getting along with him isn’t the problem,” he says darkly.

“Getting along with him too well is the issue?” Jo asks, her eyebrows rising.

Castiel scowls at her observation. Her emotional intuition is what makes her an excellent café manager, so he can hardly fault her for that. He doesn’t respond to her question.

“Take it to him,” Jo says, her tone softening. “He likes you.”

Castiel raises his head to stare at her. “How do you know that?”

Jo pulls her phone from her back pocket and waves it in his face. “We talk,” she says. “How do you think he orders every time? He’s not getting those lattes for free, not after I spent so much time getting them exactly right.”

Castiel can’t hold back his grimace. The latte still smells awful, like a vat of boiled candied apples.

“Look,” Jo says, lowering her voice, “Dean’s famous, sure, but he’s actually a very private person. He runs his mouth to anyone who’ll listen, but he never really says anything important. So he doesn’t really connect with a lot of people. If he says he likes you, I’m gonna say that’s a good thing - if you tell him I said this, I’ll kick your ass - and make you his designated errand boy.”

Castiel bites his lip. “But I don’t -”

“Dude, don’t make me pull the boss card,” Jo says, just the barest hint of threat in her words.

“Fine.” Castiel snatches the latte off the counter. “But I want a raise.”

“You can get a free sandwich.”

Castiel glares daggers as he shoulders open the back door.

But the alley is empty.

Castiel breathes through his mouth as he steps out. The overflowing dumpsters carry the odor of moldering cheese and more rancid fish, and the fryers next door are still going strong. He doesn’t find Dean lurking behind the trash for some strange reason, and he’s about to head back in and dump Dean’s latte down the sink when a shout makes him turn around.

“Hey, Cas!” Dean calls, jogging in from the brightly lit street.

“Hello, Dean.” He hands over the latte.

“Thanks - sorry.” Dean rubs the back of his neck with his other hand. “Some fans caught me sneaking in here, and wanted a selfie.”

“Oh,” Castiel says for lack of anything better to say.

Dean tips back his cup, his expression falling into pure bliss. “Christ, that’s so much better when I’m not hungover.”

Castiel stares. “You’re drinking that with all your capacities intact?”

“Ain’t no better way to enjoy pie,” Dean says, grinning widely.

Castiel rolls his eyes. “That’s not pie.”

“It’s as close as I’m gonna get at eight in the morning on a Thursday,” Dean says with a shrug.

Silence falls between them, and Castiel can’t help glancing over Dean’s shoulder, tentatively scanning for the people who caught his attention earlier. Plenty more would have approached Dean if he didn’t have Jo’s latte waiting for him; Castiel would bet his job on it.

Dean is a celebrity.

Castiel is a grad student who can’t even afford to support a guinea pig on his stipend and café salary.

After a long beat, Dean asks, a touch hesitantly, “So, what’ve you been up to?”

Stalking you on the internet.

“Nothing,” Castiel lies. At the slight fall in Dean’s expression, he adds, “I cleaned my kitchen over the weekend.”

Dean chuckles. “You’re a weird dude, you know that?”

Hurt, Castiel takes a step back. Jo probably needs him for… something.

“Not in a bad way!” Dean says quickly. “Shit,” he swears under his breath, “please don’t stop giving me coffee.”

Castiel hesitates. “Why is it weird that I cleaned my kitchen?” He frowns. “I suppose you employ someone to do that for you.”

Dean seesaws his free hand back and forth as he sips at his latte. “Not always,” he lowers his voice, “I actually like cleaning - it helps me relax and shit. There’s nothing like blasting some tunes and scrubbing out that stain on the counter that’s been annoying you forever.”

Castiel lowers his voice too. “Is this a secret?”

Dean grimaces. “Not really. But, you know, it’s one of those omega things.”

Castiel doesn’t know. Well, he knows it is a stereotypical omega trait to like housework, but he has no idea why Dean would whisper it in a back alley like he’s confessing to defrauding an elderly relative. “And that is bad because…?”

Dean takes a long pull from his cup. “I don’t want to hammer the omega thing home too hard, alright?”

“But you are an omega,” Castiel says, feeling a little stupid for saying it out loud.

“Yeah,” Dean sighs, “but if I lean into it, I’ll stop getting alpha roles.”

“You only want to play alphas?” Castiel asks curiously.

Dean’s mouth twists. “They’re the better parts. Omegas are always the damsels in distress or get killed off first for the plot.”

“I’m sure not all films are like that,” Castiel says. God knows, Anna made him sit through enough films with an omega protagonist that did not fit the typical romantic comedy restrictions.

“Most.”

“The last movie I saw,” Castiel says, hesitant because Dean must know more about this than him, “my sister recommended it, it had an omega lead who led a team of paranormal investigators. A sort of horror-comedy.”

Dean’s face loses some of its hostility. Almost intrigued, he asks gruffly, “D’you know who wrote it?”

“Not off the top of my head.” Castiel pulls out his phone to look it up. He reads aloud, “Ghostfacers, directed by Ed Zeddmore, written by Harry Spangler. Starred Maggie Zeddmore and Alan Corbett.” He pauses, trying to remember the details. “I think they both were omegas. I’m sure there are more films like Ghostfacers out there for you to make.”

Dean sips at his latte. “A few. None with big enough names attached to really get on my radar.”

“Well, if you signed on, wouldn’t there be a big name attached?”

“Yeah,” Dean says in a tone that clearly conveys he’s thought of this possibility before. He runs a hand through his hair. “It’s just - what if I take one of these roles, and it gets all this attention just ’cause I’m in it, and it flops?”

Castiel tilts his head. “That would hardly be your fault. Most failed films are hardly the work of one person. Usually, it’s a combination of a bad story, bad production, and bad acting.” He levels Dean an appraising look. “Right off the bat, you control two of those elements - pick a good script and act as well as you always have.”

Dean blinks. “You’ve seen my stuff?”

Castiel’s brow furrows. “I thought I already said I knew who you were?”

“Yeah, but,” Dean says, his voice petering off with embarrassment, “that didn’t mean you liked my movies.”

“The majority of America liked your last movie, Dean,” Castiel says dryly. “Either that, or you have a very hardworking and wealthy mother who poured a hundred million dollars into ticket sales.”

“I mean, Mom’s a fan, but not that big of a fan,” Dean says, chuckling. “I’m pretty sure she’d rather get a twenty-minute call from yours truly than sit through a two-hour flick with my name on the poster.”

Castiel hands over his phone. “Here,” he says, tilting it so Dean can see the summary of Ghostfacers.

Dean brightens as he reads through it. “The Alpha dies first?”

“He thought he could deal with the ghost on his own.”

“Typical alpha macho,” Dean snorts. His head snaps up as he gives the phone back. “No offense.”

“No offense taken,” Castiel says easily. “With my lifestyle, posturing is a waste of time. I’ve long ago resigned myself to not being the primary breadwinner in any future household.”

“Really?”

Castiel throws him a look. “I’m in academia, Dean. Tenure is hardly a guarantee. Even so, there isn’t a wealth of money out there for ethnomusicology grants.”

Dean tips his head in acknowledgement. “It’s awful big of you.”

“Just logical,” Castiel says evenly. “It shrinks my dating pool considerably, but I’d rather do what I love than compromise that much for any potential partner.”

Dean inhales a deep breath, his eyes unfathomable. “I get that.”

“If it means I can’t afford to mate a house-omega, I’ll just have to keep cleaning my kitchen myself,” Castiel finishes with a shrug.

Dean grins. “I mean, if you spot me a six pack and don’t tell my trainer about it, I’ll clean your kitchen.”

Castiel turns bright red. He can’t bring himself to respond to that offer, so he changes the subject.

* * *

Castiel doesn’t even bother pretending to protest as Jo barges into the kitchen, the telltale scent of sugary apples wafting around her like a palpable shield. Castiel already set himself for heartbreak where Dean Winchester is concerned. He might as well take advantage of every interaction he has left.

He went to sleep late last night, watching one of Dean’s earlier movies. He was slimmer and younger, but he still shone with his signature charisma and talent. For the first time since Castiel started the morning shift at Hunter’s Café, he snoozed his alarm.

Hurrying through his morning routine, Castiel couldn’t help resenting Dean just a little. If only Dean hadn’t chosen a profession where his literal job is to be whatever his audience wants him to be.

As Castiel pushes open the door, Dean is waiting outside. Dark sunglasses shield his green eyes, and a violet bruise blooms over his left eyebrow. As the door slams shut behind Castiel, Dean winces. His left hand holds a half-empty paper container of french fries.

“Hello, Dean,” Castiel says. “You don’t look good.”

“Tell me about it,” Dean says darkly. “Gimme.”

Castiel pauses. “Did your hangover eliminate your manners?”

Dean flushes bright red. “No,” he mutters. “Sorry, Cas. I just feel like shit.”

“You look like shit,” Castiel says frankly as he hands it over.

“Thanks,” Deans says, his voice sour as old lemons. “I told Charlie tequila shots before Monopoly was a bad idea, but did anyone listen to me?” He gestures to his face. “Next thing I know, Jo’s throwing Charlie’s bag of DnD dice at my head.”

“You got that playing Monopoly? Wait, Jo did this to you?” he demands, gesturing to the cafe behind him. “Jo Harvelle?”

Dean just glares over the rim of his coffee cup. “Yeah, Katniss got me good.”

“God, why?”

One corner of Dean’s mouth lifts in a distinctly smug smirk. “’Cause she was going bankrupt, and she had to sell her last property to me.”

“So this was because of Monopoly,” Castiel says dubiously. In his experience, a board game has never led to actual violence.

Dean shrugs. “Game nights get intense. Why do you think I’m always bangin’ down your door the morning after?”

Castiel can’t believe it. “You’ve been getting this drunk at a game night? Every time?”

“So what?” Dean shoves four french fries in his mouth. “Whaddya think I was doin’?”

“Partying?” he suggests.

Dean snorts. “Maybe six years ago when I was doing B-level flicks and trying to meet as many people as I could. Now I have a back-to-back shooting schedule and hangovers if I don’t pace myself.”

Castiel watches Dean polish off his fries at a truly impressive and horrifying speed. He can’t help asking, “Why was Jo at your game night?”

“’Cause she’s a menace who knows how to pick locks?” Dean heaves a weighty sigh. “I’ve known Jo since we were kids. She and her mom - who started Hunter’s Café - were my neighbors.”

“I had no idea.”

Dean gestures to the alley with a wry hand. “Jo likes to keep it under wraps.”

“I see why Jo keeps making those drinks for you,” Castiel says, nodding at the half-finished latte in Dean’s hand.

“You didn’t make it?” Dean says, and does he sound almost disappointed?

Castiel shakes his head. “Jo is keeping the recipe close to the chest.”

“Probably worried everyone’ll want one if they get the taste.” Dean tips the cup back.

Castiel can’t help his noise of disgust. At Dean’s sharp look, he says aloud, “She’s probably worried everyone will never come back if they try it.”

Dean’s laugh cuts off with a wince. He raises a hand to his head. “Christ, last night was a mistake.”

Castiel surreptitiously scents the air for a better gauge of how discomfited Dean really is, but, as always, all he gets is trash and fryer oil. “How are you doing? Apart from the injury, headache, and general hangover-related malaise.”

“Oh, apart from that?” Dean echoes mockingly, but his words lack any heat. He crams a few fries into his mouth. “I asked my agent to send me a few more scripts with omega roles,” he mutters.

Castiel smiles. “That’s great.”

Dean hums his agreement. “Hopefully, she’ll pick out a decent one, and I can get something set up for after Two for the Show wraps.”

“Is Two for the Show the reason for your diet?”

Dean huffs. “Yeah. I have a bunch of shirtless scenes, so that means three months with the diet coach from hell.”

Castiel makes a noise of sympathy. After a moment, he asks, “Is it worth it?”

Dean chews a fry, scowling between bites. “Not really,” he says in a low voice. “Sammy’s the farmers market maniac in the family.” Wistfully, he continues, “Give me a good cheeseburger deluxe every day for the rest of my life with a side of pie, and I’ll die a happy man.”

“I didn’t think apple pie came as a side.”

“Not for you, maybe,” Dean says with an obnoxiously loud slurp of his latte.

Castiel doesn’t bother holding back his smile.

Dean sighs, rubbing his temple with the heel of his hand. “It’s just like, I don’t look like a traditional omega, so I figured I might as well try for the alpha roles.” He swallows. “’S a win-win situation. I look the part and the characters are better - what’s the downside?”

Castiel cocks his head. “Other than your restricted diet and inadvisable levels of drinking?”

A humorless smile pulls at Dean's mouth. “Not pullin’ the punches this morning, huh?”

Castiel colors, his face heating with shame. “I’m sorry. I didn’t sleep well.” An inadequate excuse, but it’s not like he can tell Dean the real reason for his more uncharitable thoughts.

Castiel has never been one to lean into his alpha instincts. Possessiveness, aggression, arrogance - Castiel has had his (mostly regrettable) moments, but they hardly define his character. But over these past few weeks, he’s had to repeatedly tell himself that he can’t solve Dean’s problems. Dean is a wildly successful adult with millions of fans, while Castiel can’t even handle Hunter Cafe's front counter during the morning rush.

Dean would hardly welcome a nobody little alpha telling him to just… do what he wants and damn the consequences because he deserves to be happy with his life and his work.

Dean plucks out the rest of his fries and balls the wrapper against his hip. He lobs it in the dumpster. “No, I get it. I’m complaining about things that most people would kill to have.” He glances towards the mouth of the alley, his mouth set in a thin line.

But before Dean can leave, Castiel says quickly, “That’s not the way I see it. Your specific frustrations aren’t universal, but hardly anyone’s are. Society is inherently unfair, and it’s understandable to be angry about it.”

God knows Castiel railed enough about the unfairness of Dean Winchester to Gabriel enough over the past few weeks.

Even now, hungover and bruised, Dean is beautiful.

Castiel steels himself. “And, for what it’s worth, I don’t think not looking like a typical omega is a bad thing.”

Dean turns to him in surprise, and Castiel would give up that free sandwich Jo offered him to be able to scent what exactly Dean is feeling. But, after a second that stretches into an eternity, all Dean gives him is a quiet, “Thanks, Cas.”

Castiel nods, chastised by Dean’s reaction. “I should get back to work,” he says awkwardly.

Dean mutters something that might be a swear underneath his breath. Raising his voice, he says, his tone apologetic, “’Course. Sorry for keeping you.”

Castiel shakes his head. “It’s alright. I,” he pauses, “always enjoy talking to you.”

Dean’s mouth lifts into a small smile, and it’s like the sun rising through the early morning fog. “You too, man.”

* * *

After his next shift, Castiel asks Jo to show him how to make Dean’s apple pie latte.

Castiel’s first attempt is a disaster. He burns the espresso and adds too much nutmeg. Jo makes him try it anyway, as a non-monetary payment for her time. As Castiel gags, a smirking Jo dumps the bitter, weirdly savory mess down the sink.

“Passable,” Jo declares at Castiel’s second try. “You need more of the apple concentrate, though.”

“It’ll be too strong,” Castiel protests even as he shakes more powder in and gives it a stir. He hands it back to Jo for evaluation.

“You could barely taste it!” Jo says. She raises it to her lips. “Mm, that’s the stuff.”

“It is?” Castiel asks hopefully.

Jo nods and pushes the cup towards him. “That’s what it’s supposed to taste like.”

Castiel frowns as the overly sweet apples hit his tongue. He can barely taste the coffee underneath all the other layers.

“Trust me,” Jo says, flipping her hair behind her shoulder as she sets Castiel up for a third cup. “Your scent’s getting in the way, but it tastes exactly like an apple pie.”

“My scent?” Castiel echoes, baffled.

Jo throws him a look as she pushes a clean coffee cup into his hands. “Yeah, you already smell, I dunno, crisp but sweet? A little like apples. Makes you think the latte dials it up to eleven when it’s more like a nine for everyone else.”

Castiel hadn’t thought to put those pieces together, but it makes an astonishing amount of sense.

He brings his last apple pie latte home to Gabriel, and his cousin makes him write down, step by step, how to make it. In between actual licks into the cup to get the dregs, Gabriel swears to visit him at Hunter’s Café more often.

When Jo next ducks her head into the kitchen to tell Castiel that Dean will swing by in fifteen minutes, Castiel gets to work. He awkwardly sidles behind the front counter and maneuvers around Ruby and Kevin, nearly knocking Kevin’s elbow as Kevin attempts some elaborate leaf pattern.

Castiel draws a rudimentary apple on top of Dean’s latte, and if it looks more like a misshapen mango, nobody will see it but Dean.

For the first time, Castiel heads out to wait for Dean at the mouth of the alley.

Dean doesn’t keep him in suspense for long. He makes his way down the street, shoulders hunched, and head bowed. Gaze fixed on the dirty sidewalk, Dean doesn’t make eye contact with anyone as he turns the corner.

Dean isn’t even wearing sunglasses or a hat to hide his face, but everyone walks straight past him.

It’s the most riveting performance Castiel has ever seen.

A few steps away, Dean catches sight of him, and it’s like some magic switch is flipped on, and he is Dean Winchester again.

Smiling brightly, he jogs the rest of the distance and follows Castiel as he slinks further back into the alley. Dean wrinkles his nose as they get closer to the dumpsters and the smell of an entire rancid fast food menu hits him. “Hey, Cas,” he says as he takes his latte. “Thanks.”

“Of course,” Castiel says, tipping his head.

Dean stares down oddly at the demented pear and takes a sip. Face going slack with a bliss Castiel doesn’t even need to smell, Dean groans.

Castiel freezes and sends up a silent prayer of thanks for the apron covering his lower half over his pants. “It’s good?” he tries futilely because Dean is clearly beyond speech.

Dean just gives him a thumbs up as he lowers the cup. He licks his lips, chasing the taste, and Castiel has seen pornography less graphic.

“I might have to tip Jo this time too,” Dean says, staring at the latte in his hand in wonder.

Castiel coughs. “I - I made this one, actually.”

Dean chokes on his next mouthful. “Are you serious?”

Castiel nods because if he opens his mouth he’s not sure what exactly will come out. Probably something highly embarrassing.

“This is the best one I’ve ever had,” Dean swears.

Castiel’s whole body heats with the force of his blush. “Thank you. I asked Jo how to make it, since it seems like I’ve taken over your delivery duties.”

Dean grins. “You’re a lot more fun than Jo,” he says lightly, “so I’m not complainin’.”

Castiel didn’t think he could get any redder, but here he is.

After an awkward beat, Dean says, “I think I found my next movie.”

“Really?”

Dean shrugs, but his eyes glimmer with anticipation. “It’s a World War II biopic about an omega who sneaks into the army, disguises himself as an alpha, and rescues a unit trapped behind enemy lines.” He taps his fingers against the side of his half-empty cup. “A little on the nose, but the script is good.”

“It sounds very promising,” Castiel agrees.

“Their biggest problem was the budget - historical pics aren’t cheap. But they think if I sign on early, they can leverage my name with the studio.” He smiles shyly. “Get the movie done right.”

“That’s fantastic,” Castiel says, a delightful warmth filling his chest - still a pale reflection of Dean’s excitement.

“Thanks to you.”

Castiel’s eyes widen in surprise. “Me?”

Dean throws him a funny look. “Yeah, you. You told me to get my head outta my ass and movies I actually like doing-”

“Not in so many words-” Castiel interjects, alarmed.

“’Cause the whole point of doing these stupid macho alpha flicks was so I could get the clout and money to do the stuff I actually liked,” Dean continues. “And I kept thinking, can’t do it yet, not there yet, until some rando tells me, fuck yeah you can.”

“I definitely didn’t say that-”

“It was implied,” Dean says blithely, waving off his protests. “So I figured, if this dude who doesn’t know me from Adam-”

“I’ve seen several of your films.”

“- tells me to go for it - it being something I’d thought of doing for years - is there any real reason why I shouldn’t?”

Castiel just stares at him, stunned.

Dean beams. “I’ve got a meeting with the director next week.”

“That’s wonderful,” Castiel says sincerely.

“Anyway, yeah, it’s partially thanks to you,” Dean says, tipping his latte in Castiel’s direction. “I also want to talk about romantic B-plot since I think it’s stupid.” He shakes his head, scoffing. “True mates, bullshit.”

“You think true mates are bullshit?”

As far as Castiel saw online, Dean’s never spoken on the record about true mates or any mates at all. Entertainment news sources reported rumors about him and a one-named alpha singer, Amara, early in his career, which he denounced thoroughly. A few months later, someone published revealing photos of him and an older alpha actor, Fergus Crowley. When asked about it, Dean refused to give details.

Dean makes a face. After a pause, he says, “My parents said they were true mates, but it wasn’t… pretty. No Hollywood romance between them.”

“I’m sorry.”

“’S fine,” Dean says in a tone that clearly says it isn’t. “Whenever Dad took off for a few days, I’d get to watch as many movies as I wanted, and - well, the rest is history.”

“I don’t know anyone who’s found their true mate,” Castiel says. His parents had a cold, distant marriage. A few times over the years, he wasn’t sure his mother even liked his father’s scent. Anna happily mated another omega last year, and Gabriel avoids all romantic entanglements like the black plague.

Castiel’s dating history can best be described as dismal. During his last visit to his pediatrician, his doctor called him a “late bloomer” which Castiel eventually realized just meant socially awkward. In the decade since, Castiel’s slept with a grand total of three people. And, to his supreme regret, none of them managed to bring his rusty people skills up to par.

But, in college, Castiel found music and his calling. And all his faults didn’t matter nearly as much.

In the crowd of a concert, people are so far outside the ordinary conditions of life, and so conscious of the fact, that they free themselves from individual concerns and devote themselves wholly to the collective. All their fury, their joy, their hunger for what they can’t have, is sublimated into the music.

Castiel has never felt more connected to humanity than in the middle of a crowd.

Truthfully, none of his past relationships ever measured up. None of his past partners ever managed to get Castiel out of his own head - not like the music.

Castiel shakes his head ruefully. “I wouldn’t know what to do with a true mate even if I had one.”

“Have a lot of super sappy sex with the lights on?” Dean offers, laughing.

Castiel frowns. “I wasn’t aware that kind of intercourse was restricted to true mates. I’ve done that in the past since I've always shared an emotional connection with the people I've slept with.”

“Oh,” Dean says, reddening. “Were you mated? Jo didn’t say.”

Inordinately pleased that Dean had asked Jo about him, Castiel shakes his head. “No, I’ve never been mated.”

Dean drains his latte. Swallowing, he says, “Me neither.” He throws the cup in the open dumpster and turns back to Castiel. “I haven’t dated in a while, actually,” he says in a low voice. “Couldn’t risk being seen with an alpha and remind everyone of what I’m not.”

Castiel narrows his eyes. “Surely people can’t be that close-minded.”

“’Course they can. Most are,” Dean says, his voice full of assurance.

Castiel’s mouth twists. “That sounds like a negativity bias to me.”

“Huh?”

“Negative information sticks with us longer and more strongly than any positive counterpart,” Castiel says with a shrug. “It’s something I always keep in mind when reading my course reviews after the semester is over.”

“So," Dean says, eyes dancing, "you can take the nerd out of the classroom, but you can’t take the classroom out of the nerd, huh?”

Castiel smiles wryly. “Trust me, I’ve tried.”

Dean laughs. “Look,” he starts, his expression turning a fraction more serious. “I might be fucking up a good thing here, but do you want to go to a Lez Zeppelin show next week?”

Castiel’s mouth falls open as Dean reaches out and pulls out his phone to show him a ticket confirmation email.

“It’s no big if you don’t want to,” Dean says awkwardly into the silence.

“I - I do,” Castiel says, stumbling over the words. “You do?”

“Uh,” Dean throws him a bemused look, “Yeah? I bought the tickets, dude.”

“I’m just surprised,” Castiel says honestly.

Dean stares at him. “This is seriously comin’ out of nowhere for you?”

“A little,” Castiel says defensively.

“Seriously?”

Castiel shrugs helplessly. “You’re … you. You’re famous. Why would you ask me?”

“Because I like you?” Dean says, nonplussed. “You’re nice in a way a lot of the alphas I know aren’t, and,” he breaks off, reddening, “you said you didn’t mind that I didn’t fit in with other omegas, looks-wise-”

“I don’t,” Castiel interrupts. “I think you’re the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.”

Dean gapes. “Did you seriously -” he breaks off, apparently unable to voice the rest of his thought. His face turns an impressive shade of crimson.

Castiel shoves his hands in his pockets. “Should I not have said that?” he asks, brow furrowing. This can’t be the first time Dean has been complimented on his looks. As Castiel understands, good looks are one of the main precursors to acceptance in Hollywood.

“No - I mean, maybe - never mind,” Dean fumbles, more out of sorts than Castiel has ever seen him. “It’s that nobody just out and says that, even to me.”

“I just did.”

“Yeah, I got that,” Dean says, but he’s smiling. “You should look in the mirror sometime, though.” He winks, and Castiel’s brain nearly fritzes out. “So that’s a yes?”

Castiel nods, an all-encompassing warmth filling his chest and exploding out to the tips of his fingers and toes. “I’d love to.”

“It’s a date.”

Read Part II here!

[retrievablememories]

what happens at night | taeyong

title: what happens at night

characters: vampire!taeyong, reader, BP jisoo, side character ocs

genre: vampire!au, fantasy, angst

summary: There has been a vampire sighting in a nearby town. You and a few other amateur vampire hunters flock to the area for fun, but are soon in over your heads when you come face to face with a real vampire. 

word count: 2.6k

warnings: some violence, use of weapons, mentions of blood and blood drinking, cursing

a/n: i got the prompt for this fic from this writing prompt post

writing vampire fic just reveals that i am maybe a little too intrigued with finding different ways to describe blood, lmao

also, this picture...are you fuckin kidding me

"Y/N, look. You aren’t gonna believe this.”

Adrienne holds the digital ledger out in front of you, and you look at it with tired, uninterested eyes until your brain registers what you’re seeing. Your eyes light up as you recognize whose face is on the screen.

“Taeyong.”

You take the ledger from her as she offers it to you, holding it tight with both hands.

“The Vampire King?” Jisoo perks up and gets up from her seat to rush over to see the ledger, peering wildly over your shoulder. Likewise, Percy makes his way over to the rest of you at a slightly speedier gait than his usual unaffected amble.

“Can’t be,” he says, shaking his head in quiet disbelief even as he looks over your other shoulder.

“But it is.”

The ledger’s screen displays the seal of Hawthorn Academy and its vampire registry, which holds the name, age, suspected location, and family lineage of every registered vampire in the world, along with a plethora of other pertinent details. On Taeyong’s profile, there is the familiar portrait of him you’ve always seen—his hair styled perfectly and curling over his forehead, and his eyes dark, piercing, and shining vermillion.

Under the list of Status Updates, there is a new entry from yesterday—a sighting nearby in the city of Dresden. Within that entry, there is a blurry, zoomed-in photo of a man in a dark trench coat and black boots, walking away from the viewer and down a shadowy street lit up with lampposts, almost too vague to be worth deciphering to the average viewer; but that silhouette is unmistakable.

“When was the last time Taeyong was seen out in public? I can hardly believe it,” Jisoo says, her voice practically trembling with awe.

“If he’s letting himself be seen, he must have specific intentions...whatever those are,” Percy notes.

“Let’s go pay Dresden a visit,” Adrienne announces, darting off to her desk and starting to gather up her essentials—phone and silver staff among them.

“Go? Pay it a visit?” Percy echoes, his mouth rounding on the word go and his eyes widening.

“Of course! Why not? Isn’t this exciting? A sighting of the Vampire King so nearby, and so recently,” Jisoo replies, grinning with all her teeth. 

Percy narrows his eyes at her, uncertainty marring his features. “Yes, but what about dangerous?”

“Come on Percy, it’ll be fun,” you chime in. “Think of it as a field trip for baby vampire hunters. Dresden is huge, anyway, there’s like zero chance we’ll actually find him.”

“Just take it as more skills training,” Adrienne adds, grabbing her backpack and heading off to her quarters to get the rest of her things. “Except this time, we’re actually in the field instead of that same boring facility.”

Percy grumbles to himself, but he knows there’s nothing much left to argue about; when the three of you outvote him on a topic, he has no choice left.

--

By the time the four of you arrive at Dresden, it’s dusk. The perfect witching hour for the vampires to be out, with the last bleeding streaks of the sun fading out of the sky. The lack of sunlight unnerves Percy even more—you can tell by his disturbed countenance—but he says nothing. He quietly follows you out of the train once it stops.

On the outside, you all look like four regular sight-seeing young adults, taking a trip from the next city over and ready for a night on the town; but most of your weapons and gear are concealed within your clothes and the backpacks you wear.

“There’s a slight blood scent here,” you note, taking in a deep lungful of air once you notice it. Indeed, there is the lingering hint of sweetness and iron, and something more musky and earthy underneath it—like decaying organic matter. The smell every vampire hunter is trained to be able to recognize—the odor of a vampire who hasn’t taken their scent blockers.

“There is, though I’m just barely picking up on it,” Jisoo agrees, waving her hand across her nose and screwing her eyebrows up. “God, I’ll never get used to that.”

“Do you think he’s been here?” Adrienne asks, leading the pack as you all walk through the train station.

“I would think a high-ranking, old-ass vamp would know better than to leave their funk trailing everywhere,” Percy disagrees. “Maybe it’s a younger one.”

“Maybe we could get an actual kill tonight, then. Our first,” Adrienne suggests, and though her tone is nonchalant, her expression betrays her enthusiasm.

You chuckle. “Wishful thinking, but maybe that would make the seniors stop treating us like children for once.”

--

Your group ends up bouncing from the train station to a pub and then to a nearby park, where a festival is being held. There’s bright lanterns, food, dancing, singing, and little kids running around galore, which makes you think these citizens either don’t know about the recent vampire sighting in their area or don’t care.

You all spend an hour mingling around and checking out the festival’s fun-filled offerings, chatting in low tones about the recent vampire appearance and trying to put your skills to the test to scout out any other vampires that might be hiding in plain sight within this mass of people.

“Hey!” Adrienne’s shout rings across the area, and you whip your head around in shock as you watch her take off running behind some teenage boy, maybe 12 or 13 at most, who has managed to nip the digital ledger from her belt and take off with it.

“What the fuck?” Percy barks, and you all shoot each other a wild, surprised look before you and him follow behind her.

“Guys, really? Don’t leave me here!” Jisoo calls out from behind you. “You don’t need three people just to get the ledger back!”

You and Percy round the alley corner that Adrienne disappeared behind and spot her farther up ahead, still hot on the boy’s trail and cursing him profusely. He’s a lot faster than he looks. Just before you can get a good look at him, he’s turning down another road with her behind him.

“Maybe we can cut him off. I’ll go down one of the connecting streets,” Percy suggests.

“Wait, what? Shouldn’t we stay together?”

“That ledger is too important to lose to some street urchin, and the seniors will never let us leave campus again if we come back without it. You go that way, I’ll be down here.” He’s ducking into an adjacent alley before you can even respond.

“Shit…” you sigh and shake your head before running down the road he indicated.

You unstrap your silver staff from a hidden section of your pants and extend it, just to be safe.

This land is not overly familiar to you, with you only having been to Dresden a couple times before. You carefully navigate your way through the maze of interconnecting streets, listening for Percy’s and Adrienne’s footfalls, which have become distinctive to you by now, and the sounds of Adrienne’s yelling. There are few people on the streets, most of them at the festival or in their homes, which makes it easier to navigate and watch for the others as you catch glimpses of them rushing past neighboring alleys.

Percy bursts into the same alleyway Adrienne is running down, finally trapping the boy between them on either end of the narrow passageway. However, the boy remains undeterred from Percy charging toward him as he deftly jumps up onto a nearby closed dumpster and uses it to launch himself over the older man.

“Shit!” Percy makes a mad grab for the end of the boy’s shirt, but the boy is a few seconds faster and narrowly gives him the slip.

“Are you serious? You can’t catch a damn kid?!” Adrienne shouts; Percy only curses again and whips around to follow the boy.

You hear the commotion from a few roads over, and you make a beeline for the area.

Just before you make it there, Adrienne screams. The sound almost startles you into dropping your staff, and you tighten your grip around it. “Adrienne?! What’s happened?”

You reach the alleyway, your shoes skidding on the ground as you nearly overshoot it, but Adrienne is nowhere in sight. You look around confused and alarmed with your chest heaving, but there is no trace of her — when she was there only seconds ago. “Adrienne?” Repeating her name still doesn’t bring her out, and you see nothing as you walk farther into the narrow back street and search every shadow and corner. Something dark and distressing settles in your stomach, and when you catch a whiff of that blood-decay smell on the night breeze, your unease turns into an avalanche of fear.

“Percy,” you whisper, and you take off again. “Percy!”

Your heartbeat rushes in your ears, nearly blocking out all other sounds, and your legs and arms burn as you run. You are abruptly stopped in your tracks as there is another shorter sound, like someone suddenly being cut off in the middle of a scream.

You desperately want to call out for him, and the syllables of his name crawl up your throat though you struggle to contain them. The blood-decay smell still inundates your senses, and whatever vampire is skulking around this maze of streets with you is likely still present somewhere. You don’t want to call any attention to yourself with a shout, though it may already be too late. 

With a spiny chill driving itself down your back, you realize everything is suddenly silent. No insects, no night birds, no other people on the streets surrounding you.

Pushing the button on your staff ejects the silver blades from both ends, and you hold it for dear life as you stand in the middle of the dim alley, shivering despite your sweat and waiting for any hint that the monster is approaching you.

It happens so quickly that it’s almost outside of your perception.

The air around you grows significantly colder even with the existing chill from the early-winter season, and you shudder once more, your jaw clenching and molars chattering against each other. When you blink again, he is standing in front of you.

Taeyong.

Melting out of the shadows and becoming one with them all at the same time, a strange liminality similar to his existence—being alive and dead in the same time and space.

His mouth and chin are wet and red from blood, presumably that of your friends and teammates, which sends an intense ache through your stomach. The newness and excitement of the vampire sighting has drained out of you, replaced with stone cold dread. You’re not sure what any of you were thinking. Percy tried to warn you, but now he is likely dead for it.

Maybe it’s a foolish move. All your training has gone out the window in your panic and fear. You make a sloppy, sudden swipe at his front with the blade of your staff; and the next thing you know, it’s flying out of your hand and clattering feet away. Behind him, and out of reach.

It takes a second for you to realize he’s knocked it out of your hand without even touching it or you; his own hand is still raised with the movement of telekinetically shifting the object. “You came terribly unprepared. I guess I shouldn’t expect anything more from you fledglings.”

Your sweaty palm slides against the other leg of your pants where a smaller silver dagger is concealed in a tearaway pocket, but that idea is useless. In the time it’d take to get any weapon out, he could kill you.

“The Academy has really been in decline the last few decades. This is the caliber of hunters they’re putting out now?” Taeyong sucks his teeth, and he takes a step closer to you. Your entire body is on high-alert, but you feel too stiff to move a muscle, and you vaguely wonder if this is somehow his doing, too. Only in the stillness of this moment do you realize that you cannot detect any of that blood scent coming directly from him, though the putridness of it still lingers in your nose. It’s coming from somewhere else, then. This confuses you more.

When he realizes you aren’t going to speak, he stops approaching you and takes a moment to really study your face, his big and curious eyes blinking slowly. The redness of his irises and the shiny, pale quality of his skin from the moonlight shining on it make him look just as surreal as he truly is.

“You’re a pretty thing. Maybe I could make you one of mine.”

“Never,” you blurt out, and it’s the first thing you can bring yourself to say to the Vampire King.

“Oh, so you can speak.” Taeyong reaches for your chin. His fingers brush the underside of it, the coolness of his skin freezing you, before you snatch away from his touch, stumbling backwards. A flash of irritation sparks on his face. 

His hand reaches for you again, this time clasping at the back of your neck, and it is impossible to move away quickly enough. “Don’t waste any more of your time fighting. This will all be over soon. Well—this life, anyway.”

His teeth in your neck are sharper than needles, making your nerves twinge with stabbing pain; and then it’s strangely pleasant, like having painkillers injected into your veins. You can’t feel anything anymore except warmth and endorphins and his fangs inside you as the alley around you smears into a bunch of incomprehensible shapes—bricks, streetlights, strewn trash, Taeyong.

--

When you wake up, you’re in an unfamiliar place. An unfamiliar bed. You startle out of unconsciousness sweating and frightened, but with barely enough strength to push yourself up on your elbows. Looking around doesn’t provide you with many more clues; this space is murky with darkness, and your vision is foggy. You think you can make out the rectangular shape of a large curtained window, but it’s unclear.

You’re still wearing your clothes from the trip, although your backpack is now gone. Your throat has never felt drier in your life, and the pounding in your head threatens to split it clean apart.

You feel sick and feverish, like your body is trying to fight against some virus it’s picked up, but you haven’t the slightest idea where you could’ve contracted anything—you didn’t even eat at the festival—until you remember—

A door opens with a bang somewhere in the distance, and it isn’t until the footsteps grow nearer and a blurry figure approaches the bed that you realize the door is the entrance of the room you're in.

“You’ll want to feed soon.” As soon as those words break the quiet, you’re struck by the pungent smell of blood. Unlike the relative lack of response it would elicit any other time, its aroma pokes at a sudden and peculiar craving inside of you, and you find yourself futilely scrabbling on the bed to reach the source. “Lucky you. I have just what you need.”

There is a cold hand tilting your face up, the press of equally cold glass against your bottom lip, then the tang of blood entering your mouth. It is the best thing you have ever tasted, and a slowly dying, still-human part of you is horrified.

You finish the blood quickly. It doesn’t really seem like enough, but it does make you feel a little less like you’re actively decomposing. Despite your hazy vision, there is no misreading the small smile on Taeyong’s face.

“Happy Birthday, little one.”

[hummingbird-of-light]

Against All Odds

Part 129

McCoy

McCoy fell onto a couch in the lounge next to Christine. She was typing away on her PADD.

“Jim’s onto us,” he laughed.

“What?” Christine looked up.

McCoy told her about the conversation at dinner. He looked around the room. Jim was playing chess with Spock and looking at them with a grin.

“See?” McCoy said and indicated Jim with a nod of his head.

Christine looked over at Jim and sent him a fierce look. Jim’s eyebrows went up and he turned back to the chess game. McCoy just laughed.

“I’m glad we’re friends Chris,” McCoy said.

“Me too.”

He looked around again. Scotty wasn’t sitting anywhere. A frown crossed his face. His boyfriend must have gone to his room instead.

“Alright?” Christine asked quietly.

“Yeah,” he nodded. “Just he didn’t come in here.”

“Oh. You guys didn’t…”

“No, we had a good day,” McCoy said quickly. “Pike didn’t get us in trouble for what we told him and he even shared something about my parents.” McCoy smiled. “And this morning was even better.”

“Ooo, why’s that?” Christine turned to see him better. “Oh! Why are you blushing?”

McCoy could feel the heat rising up his face.

“What happened? Spill everything!” Christine had drawn her legs up and was leaning in closer.

“We, uh,” McCoy cleared his throat.

He didn’t want to tell Christine. He didn’t really want to tell anyone what he and Scotty had done. It wasn’t anyone's business but their own.

Christine’s eyes went wide.

“No!” she exclaimed. “You didn’t?” she hissed quietly. “How was it?” Curiosity covered her face now.

McCoy sighed in defeat.

“It… it was great.”

“That’s all!” Christine cried softly. “I can’t believe you’re sitting here and not trying to pull each other’s clothes off again.”

“Well, I mean…, it’s not exactly private around here.”

“You made it work this morning somehow,” Christine said.

“Kind of by accident. And—”

“And nothing. You’d rather be spending time with him than me, right?”

“Well, I mean, yeah. No offense Chris.”

“None taken. Now come on.” She got to her feet and pulled on his arm.

“What? Where?”

Christine kissed his cheek as he stood.

“To make some rumors.” She grinned and McCoy felt his face begin to heat again.

Christine leaned into him as they walked from the lounge.

“Go on,” she said as they walked towards the dorms. “Have fun.”

“But… I don’t want to keep making you leave the lounge if you don’t want to,” McCoy protested.

“It’s alright.” Christine smiled brightly at him. “Now I have an excuse to have some quiet myself. Might make a call.”

McCoy raised an eyebrow in surprise at the flush that crossed the girl’s face.

“Thanks Chris.”

Christine nodded. “Go on.”

McCoy grabbed his PADD first thing when he entered his room and sent a message to Scotty. He laughed at Scotty’s reply.

*I'd rather return to this morning.*

McCoy blushed and adjusted himself as he sent the message. He worried what Scotty would say to that.

Part 130

Scotty

He thought about it for a very long time. Leonard probably got worried that the message was inappropriate, but when he finally wrote down his answer, Scotty felt just the same.

*Me too. I’d sure love to see that great swimmer sixpack again. And more.*

He had pressed the button to send before he could stop himself.

Goodness grace! What was he writing?! Why had he done that?!

He got up from where he was lying and paced up and down the room. His face was hot as hell. He hadn’t meant to write something like that.

*Well, how about you come to my room then.*

For a moment, Scotty just stared at the message in front of his eyes. Then a smile spread across his face.

His heart was beating fast. He didn’t even take the time to answer.

Scotty opened the door and peeked around the corner. There was nobody there.

He quickly made his way over to Leonard’s room and knocked twice.

It took a moment for the door to open but when it finally did, Scotty instantly pushed the boy back into the room while crushing their lips.

Leonard seemed surprised at first, but merely a few seconds later his hand was buried in Scotty’s hair.

Without looking the prince locked the door before he pulled Scotty along.

They fell onto the bed.

It was just so crazy. Scotty felt like he was addicted to the dark haired boy. Like all of this was a drug. And he didn’t want to get sober again.

He wanted Leonard. All of him. He wanted to kiss him. To taste him.

It didn’t take them long to undress themselves. And when their bodies touched once again, it felt even better than the first time. For now they knew what exactly they had longed for.

When they were done they just lay close to each other, covered by a blanket.

Leonard was breathing heavily. But then again… so was Scotty.

They kissed once more while Leonard wrapped one arm around the Scotsman.

“I love ye.”

This time it didn’t feel strange to say it. Because it was just how Scotty felt. And he knew that Leonard was feeling the same.

“I wanna stay here with ye.”

Leonard managed a laugh.

“I doubt that Archer or Pike will let us change roommates.”

Scotty chuckled too.

“Aye. I suppose ye’re right.”

They just lay there, arms wrapped around each other, when suddenly there was a knock on the door.

“Sir?”

It was Spock.

“Oh shit!”

[slashbitch2]

Wavelength

slight nsfw warning ;)

Eve had always felt that she stood out from those around her. That in every situation, in every group and at every point in her life, she was walking round on an entirely different wavelength. Although, living this way wasn't as direly lonely as it sounded, rather she learnt to appreciate the few and far apart moments with company. When someone would, for just a split second, understand her.

The first person to ever make her feel this way, and regrettably the only for a very long time, was Ted. He'd swept her off her feet and into a less isolated world, a concept so unfamiliar at the time that she'd allowed herself be dragged out to sea. Then there was Brandon, who she was told would change her whole world. And he did, for a while.

Brandon was her life preserver until his priorities changed; until Mother's day cards became Valentines day cards, movie nights were exchanged for house parties and homework for alcohol. But Eve wasn't the kind of mom to act as though this behaviour was unwarranted and abhorrent, so she let him wedge the door shut and clear his search history. She could cope with a little more distance.

Then along came Ted's affair, their crumbling marriage and eventual divorce. Before she knew it, she was drowning.

The all too familiar feeling of solitude reappeared, completely devastating for her when Brandon left for college. However, this time she swore that she wouldn't let it overwhelm her, and did everything possible to prevent herself from sinking. Which initially started with a class at a community college, and ended with her lying in the arms of both her colleague Amanda, and classmate Julian. And yet, after they'd hurriedly packed up their things and left, she felt no better.

Brandon was sitting on the porch when she found him later. His back was turned to her, but the hunched up posture and awkward shuffling said more than enough. In that moment, Eve reverted back to her old way of thinking. She came to the conclusion that she'd failed as a mother, that her mistake was unforgivable despite the years of morose behaviour and selfish demeanour Brandon had subjected her to.

For retribution, she removed Julian's number from her contacts, predicting that he wouldn't be able cope with remaining friends. He too immature, still in that irrational sulky stage of adolescence. Next, she specified to Amanda that what happened was a one time thing, though she was already way ahead of Eve, chatting casually like nothing had taken place that weekend. Her easy-going reaction was a nice break from the prevailing tension with Brandon, which she then mentioned to her friend.

She tried to casually bring the subject up in the same manner that she imagined Amanda would if the roles were reversed, acting like the issue was nothing to do with her.

"As much as I hate to use such an outdated phrase," Her friend said. "boys will be boys. "

Eve chuckled, though the general concern weighing down on her shoulders meant it came out as more of a scoff. "You can say that again."

There's a brief lull in conversation as Eve disinterestedly taps away at her phone while Amanda sips thoughtfully at her coffee. The silence is only invoked by an awareness of social standards, since there's much Eve wants to talk to her friend about, but feels would be inappropriate in public.

Eventually, Amanda's the one to break the silence. "Are you still looking for someone to fill in for Sarah?"

Eve's attention flickered back to the woman sitting opposite. "I am." She replied hesitantly, knowing that she ought to have posted the job advertisement weeks ago, but had forgotten.

"I know someone who'd be good." Amanda was sliding her phone across the table before Eve got the chance to respond.

The screen displayed what she could only assume was a job application, though the font was too small to actually read. Squinting, she picked up the device to try and glean some information about the potential applicant.

Amanda continued as Eve scrolled. "She hasn't worked with seniors before, but has managerial experience."

"Are you sure she'd want this job?" Eve asked apprehensively as she set the phone down. "Seems a little over-qualified to me."

"Yeah, she's serious about it." Amanda's expression grew more determined. "Y/N just moved here. Mentioned she was looking for a more lowkey kind of job."

Eve remained doubtful.

"She's travelled a lot. Had a lot of different jobs." Amanda took another sip of her drink. "But she said she wants to settle down somewhere. Get a job that'll take her to retirement- which was an exaggeration, but you get the gist."

"Well." Eve sighed. "You can't get much closer to retirement than working at a nursing home."

"Exactly. So can I pass on her contact details then?"

"Sure." She shrugged. Assuming that her friend's recommendation was genuinely helpful, then she would be saved from suffering through the tedious interview process, which was worth taking a risk for.

---

As Eve sat at her desk, the world around her faded into obscurity. Without Sarah as the assistant manager, she'd been suffocating under piles of neglected paperwork, only now forcing her way through it. The main thought motivating her was that you were due to arrive any minute, for what she'd described as a first informal interview. The idea of conducting anything more formal this late into the evening was unappealing. So, based on the unusual circumstance by which you'd applied, and the strange time slot reserved, the interview would be more casual.

Finding that her eyes were starting to strain, she granted herself a quick break to look round the office. Eventually she settled on looking out the window, content watching the world pass by. The day had been unexpectedly hot, and some of that humidity still lingered, but judging by the gentle breeze filtering in through a crack in the window, the evening must've started to cool. A soft pink colour filled the sky, darkening to orange where the sun had just set over the horizon. From the other direction, a deep blue had begun to filter into view, the only indication that night was approaching.

When her gaze drifted back to the room, she realised that the pink light was cast around the room, bathing every surface in a delicate glow. How the simple beauty of the evening had previously escaped her attention was a mystery. One that prompted Eve to take a break to admire it.

The break was short-lived, however, as a sharp knock at the door quickly stole her attention away.

"Come in." She called out but found her voice hoarse from disuse. She frantically cleared her throat as the guest entered.

Eve looked up at you and smiled politely, then down at her desk, then did a double take. Although she hadn't given enough thought to form any preconceived image of what you might look like, she certainly hadn't expected someone quite so attractive.

As soon as the label crossed her mind, she was already berating herself for it. You'd barely entered the room and were here for business, she couldn't let herself think of you in that way. It was wrong. Both professionally and morally.

"Evening." Your voice was deep, smooth and with an accent she couldn't distinguish.

Eve tried her best to smile amiably, though she was sure the emotion wasn't reflected in her eyes. Instead she scanned your body from top to bottom, lingering on your neck, and then your hands. The action was automatic. An unintentional response to her attraction- and there it was again. She'd allowed herself to get distracted barely ten seconds later.

"Hi." Eve was too quiet, her tone lacking the necessary command. She swallowed. "Please, take a seat." And smiled, this time more genuinely.

"Thank you."

She watched you stiffly slide into the seat, effortlessly demanding the attention of the entire room. Although Eve had known you for less than a minute, she'd already decided that there was something hypnotic about the way you moved. From the slight twitch in the corner of your lips, to the gentle rise and fall of your chest. Every movement, regardless of it being barely perceptible, had her mesmerized, however she was mostly fixated on your hands. How they couldn't quite settle in your lap, rather were wrung about anxiously until abruptly stilling.

Your hands falling limp dragged Eve back into reality as it dawned on her that she'd been staring for a little longer than appropriate. She literally had to shake herself out of the senseless state and clear her throat once more before she was ready to continue.

"It's nice to meet you." Jolted into reality, she outstretched her hand, which you eagerly met. Your grip was firm, matched with a confident yet humble smile that looked well practiced.

"And you."

Eve already understood how you'd succeeded at accumulating such an impressive employment history, as every second of the interview so far, you'd acted perfectly. Like you'd written the book on 'How to Handle Job Interviews.'

"Just call me Eve." Separating from the handshake, she dismissively waved her hand, unable to hold the eye contact for any longer. There was an inquisitive manner to the way you were watching her, as though you were trying to ascertain the most information possible from appearance alone. Being exposed to your scrutinising glare caused Eve to shift in her seat, though not from discomfort or uneasiness, rather from inadmissible lust.

As the interview progressed, her eyes continued to occasionally stray toward your hands. Despite how hard she was trying to stay focused, she kept catching herself unintentionally imagining how they'd look gripping her waist, pushing apart her thighs. And if she blocked out this particular fantasy, then her attention would shift to your neck, and how she'd love to bite down on the supple skin presented to her.

She'd hoped that her fling with Amanda and Julian would've suppressed her incorrigible longing for pleasure, yet still found her thighs pressing together as her imagination overpowered reason. All the scandalous scenarios flashing through her mind only grew more vivid, more frequent. An incessant stream of borderline pornographic images, which worsened her guilt as she struggled to focus on what you were saying.

The cool breeze from earlier seemed to have vanished, replaced by unbearable humidity. She could feel herself sweating bucket loads, and only flushed more upon realising that she must've looked a mess; with stray hairs framing her face, an inability to sit still and a layer of perspiration covering her entire body. You'd probably noticed by now.

"God it's been hot recently." You commented, playing with the neckline of your shirt.

Had Eve not been observing you so closely, she would've guessed this was general small-talk. But judging on how you'd acted so far, this was a strategically placed act of mercy, a way of excusing her, no doubt, dishevelled appearance.

"Yeah." Eve chuckled, twirling a strand of hair round her finger. "We could move outside." She suggested, then quickly added. "If you wanted to, that is." Her desperation to please you came as a surprise. The roles should've been reversed. You should've been trying to impress her.

Eve had undeniably lost all authority in the situation, which simply excited her further.

---

When Eve laughed, she scrunched up her face and closed her eyes, which was inconvenient even at the best of times. Right now, however, she'd never despised the quirk quite so much.

As inconsequential as the current circumstances would look to any passer-by, she wanted to commit every detail to memory. From the lingering pink hue of dusk, to the way you threw your head back as you laughed. In fact, she wanted to memorise everything about you. Since leaving behind her stuffy office, conversation had flown easily between the two of you, the matter of employment seemingly dropped in place of getting to know one another. You'd indisputably gotten the job. Eve knew it. You knew it. So both were happy to indulge in a lighter tone of conversation.

The topic had turned to worst first date experiences, so she had very few to share with you, though that didn't stop her from enjoying listening to your little anecdotes.

"What about you?" Taking a calming breath after an outburst of laughter, you paused to ask her the dreaded question.

In comparison to your story, her worst date was relatively tame. "Well." She scratched at the corner of her eye, considering whether she could exaggerate in some way. "I went on a date recently that I had to walk out of."

"Really?" You folded your arms, leaning back against the brick wall. "What happened?"

"Nothing. I guess it just didn't feel right." She shook her head, hoping to deter any more questioning.

"Fair enough. Sometimes you just know- right?"

Eve drew her eyes away from being locked on the ground, finally summoning the resolve to look directly back at you. She bit her lip, compelling herself to nod.

There was something about you that was pure ecstasy to her. While looking at you, she could feel herself falling deeper into the hypnotic state she'd been in earlier, unable to tear her eyes away and unwilling to try. In spite of the normality of the situation, it felt meaningful. Eve didn't feel so alone, so out of place. Which made no sense to her as she'd known you for barely over an hour.

"What did you do after?" Your voice was somehow deeper, eyes lidded and posture relaxed. "After the date." You clarified.

The inquiry was personal, even without context that could be inferred. Eve hummed, delaying her response long enough to consider how much she was willing to divulge. "I-" She laughed nervously, suddenly embarrassed to confess. "I went swimming."

"Swimming?" Your eyebrows shot up, amused by the many connotations of her vagueness. "Where?"

Eve scuffed the heel of her shoe against the concrete ground, shamefully incapable of returning the eye contact. "Here." She admitted quietly, grinning as if in disbelief that she'd actually done it.

"Wow. I'll be honest, I wasn't expecting that." You took a deep breath, rendered speechless for a second. "So, you have access to the pool?"

Eve shifted restlessly, hesitant to pursue the topic any further. She knew where this was going, and that she shouldn't endorse this type of behaviour. But the heat wasn't helping, and neither was her overactive imagination. She was supposed to be responsible, but then again, so were you.

Inevitably the possibilities of what could be overpowered her better judgement. "Yes." She reached into her pocket, producing the coveted key ring and hanging it on her pointer finger.

Upon glancing up, she discovered you were watching her intently, indisputable lust reflected in your eyes. Eve found herself in one of those rare moments where she felt understood, on the same wavelength as someone else. The logical part of her brain argued that you were basically a stranger. That if she followed through on your shared idea, then your hiring and subsequent job experience would be forever tainted. But the possibilities were too tempting to ignore.

So when you asked. "Want to go swimming?"

She couldn't refuse.

---

You'd held her hand as she'd lead, the reasoning being that most the facility was shrouded in darkness. Though Eve liked the weight of your hand in hers, so she didn't bother to turn the lights on until reaching the pool. Only then did you separate, crouching down to check the temperature. You beamed with childlike joy as you waved your hand around in the water, skimming the surface then diving deeper down.

Eve grinned. Your pure happiness was infectious, the effect it had on her similar to being drunk. She was intoxicated from exhilaration. She would've been content watching you relish in the feeling of water running through your fingers for eternity, though to her dismay, you soon grew bored. And then to her surprise, you unabashedly began to strip. Her eyes were glued to the expanse of your back as you pulled your shirt over your head, and to the revealed skin as you tugged your trousers down.

She had to stop herself from stumbling back as the strange reality of the situation suddenly dawned on her. Instead, she reacted by comically clutching at her heart, clawing the fabric of her own shirt.

You turned to the side, looking at her out of the corner of your eye. "You coming?"

She chewed on her lip, pondering the two words in greater detail. This was you asking for consent, giving a final warning. You were both aware that this was an incredibly outlandish idea, an extremely irresponsible one that should've discouraged Eve. Yet it had the opposite effect.

Before she could overthink the consequences, her shaking hands were clumsily unbuttoning her blouse. At the unspoken confirmation, you smirked back at her, then without warning, threw yourself into the pool. The splash echoed round the room, proceeded by carefree laughter as you resurfaced and began leisurely swimming away from her. While you were busy, Eve took the chance to continue undressing without interference.

Her insecurities didn't emerge until it was too late, resolved moments later as she dove into the pool. The water was colder than she'd anticipated, but her burning desire dulled the intensity. Breaking through the water's surface, she inhaled deeply, grateful for the supply of oxygen. However, her breath was soon stolen from her as she noticed you were treading water directly in front.

Somehow, you looked even more beautiful now. With the wave's reflections dancing across your skin, your hair drenched and dripping. She wanted to chase after the droplets with her tongue, despite knowing she'd likely be met with the bitter taste of chlorine. But what really flustered Eve was the way you were staring at her; the hunger in your eyes that hinted at your intentions.

Your stillness was teasing her, the water practically stagnant around you both. Eve was becoming increasingly irritated, the heat between her legs only growing. So it didn't take long for her to snap. She lunged forward in an attempt to grab hold of you, though her hands couldn't quite clutch onto your slippery skin. She stumbled to the left, floundering around until you grabbed hold of her.

Upon securing her grip, she froze, due to both the sensation of your body pressed up against hers, and her embarrassment. She couldn't bare to look up, to face her awkward failure. After a beat of silence, she heard you laugh lightly. It wasn't necessarily unpleasant or mocking, but she insisted on keeping her eyes locked on the wall. That was, until your lips gently brushed against her ear.

"Were you trying to kiss me or drown me?"

She snorted, the tension leaving her body, then turned to rest her forehead on your shoulder. "The former. Definitely."

You laughed again. This time Eve joined in, happy to ignore what'd just occurred.

"Want to try that again, then?" You kissed just behind her ear, causing a shiver to suffuse across Eve's body. She waited a minute, expecting more before realising you intended for her to make the next move.

She glanced up at your face, fixating on your lips. You were so close. All she had to do was lean forward ever so slightly. One final glance to your lidded eyes confirmed you wanted the same- all she had to do was close the distance.

Taking a shaky breath, Eve shifted a hand up to cup your cheek, her thumb softly stroking your skin. There was no rush; you both wanted the same thing and were eager to revel in the experience. So, when her lips finally grazed against yours, there was no deep sigh or sudden change in pace, rather a blooming warmth in her chest. She was floating, both literally and metaphorically in a sea affection.

She kissed you again, this time with more conviction. Then fell backwards, her feet now comfortably resting on the bottom of the pool, her back hitting the wall as your grip on her waist tightened. You dragged a hand across her chest, causing her to gasp. Your touch was scolding compared to the cool water. A perfect balance between lustful heat and a mind-numbing, all-encompassing chill.

She raised her arms, flinging them around you and exhaling as her impatience reappeared. Though thankfully, you didn't make her wait long. Soon enough, your mouth had latched onto her neck, leaving messy kisses from behind her ear, to down by her shoulders. The feeling was pure bliss, encouraging her to lean into you and press your bodies closer together.

She didn't need to say anything. You seemed to know exactly what you were doing. Like you had her body memorised: every caress was perfectly placed, each touch just what she needed. It didn't take long for Eve to reach her pleasure, although she did spend a while in a dazed state of satisfaction, simply drifting in your arms. Eventually, she regained awareness to feel you tenderly nibbling on her lower lip, and eagerly reciprocated the kiss.

Motivated by the sudden fervour, she switched the positions, pushing you up to the wall.

"Get on the ledge." Eve murmured against your lips. She looped her arms under your thighs, ready to lift once you'd agreed.

Surprised by her abrupt confidence, you quirked an eyebrow, but obeyed nonetheless.

With you sat before her, she knew the evening was only just beginning, and judging by your breathless expression you felt exactly the same. This was one of those rare moments where Eve felt completely understood.

[stardustincarnate]

EARLY TRYST // Light Yagami x Reader

word count : 4534 genre : fluff <333 ! crack-ish, pre-kira!light, all that  mushy mushy stuff, best friends to lovers because who doesn’t love that trope?

a/n : i’m not sure if i’ve posted this here before but i’m fairly certain that i haven’t oh godric you’ll have to forgive me if i had  --

Who wakes up 5:00 early on a Saturday morning just to bug their neighbor to have a match with them?

Technically, you did. You were bored, and the first thing that came to your mind was playing your favorite sport with one of your bestfriends, who's also your neighbor, Light. Surely he wouldn't mind, would he? But it mattered not since he also did the same to you back then, insisting you two bike together just because he wanted a companion and knew you wouldn't refuse. You were hella pissed even so, and now it's your turn to get revenge.

You brought a ladder, placing it just enough to reach the window to his bedroom on the second floor. You eventually climbed up, practically pressing your face against  the window to get a clearer sight of him sleeping peacefully on his bed, his angelic face barely visible as it was partially covered with his blanket.

'Say goodbye to your sweet dreams, lover boy.'

You thought and knocked on the window loud enough for him to hear. Your first tries were futile so you knocked a little louder and more violent. To his dismay, Light woke up with a teeny-bit of panic in his chest. Creasing his eyebrow and squinting his eyes, he looked at the window, seeing a familiar figure. You snickered as he awakened, languidly making his way to the window, an irritated look on his face when he met your eyes.

He opened the window. "[Y/N], what the hell are you doing here? What time is it?"

"About time for you to play with me."

"Huh? Play with you? You're acting strangely childish. I was still sleeping." He clicked his tongue. You chuckled and shook your head. "Aw, sleeping beauty is upset because his dream was left unfinished. Don't worry, his dashing savior is here to make him feel better."

"You mean worse."

"Bad!" You playfully punched his shoulder. "Says the one who still has sleep in his eyes."

"Of course I have. You just woke me up." He scowled, turning his back at you and rubbing the sleep from his eyes, his face a little flushed.

"Heh, don't be shy!" You teased, wobbling a little in your position.

"I'm not shy! Tch, seriously though, you're in a ladder? You only made it harder for yourself when you could've just knocked on the main door. Mom and dad are already awake. They'd let you in."

"Eh? But I was shy- you know- err, how am I supposed to say 'Can I go to Light's room or something?'" You blushed a little. He hummed in response and gave an understanding look. "Come on in."

"I can't fit in here- just meet me outside. I'll wait for ya."

"You got yourself in this so don't turn back now. You can fit but in another position." Before you could reply, he suddenly grabbed your arms and indicated you to push your head inside. You did, whimpering as he pulled you in by grabbing you by the armpits, your faces almost bumping in the process. You gave a squeal as you felt your feet of the ladder, causing you to grip him tighter, almost hugging him-or maybe even inhaling him.

For a better description you basically looked like a flying fish from outside who's getting devoured by a portal.

With all his might, Light pulled you in until your whole body finally got inside. Of course, as he was secretly anticipating to, you both fell on the ground, with you on top of him, your head against his chest.

You immediately stood up and accidentally stepped on his ankle, resulting a loud whimper from him.

"Oof."

"That hurt, you know."

"Sorry. But-" You both heard a loud crash from outside. You were certain that the ladder you used had fallen, and it was so loud you swore some of your neighbors woke up. "...As I was saying... That was a dangerous way to get me inside. I could've fallen."

"Too bad you didn't."

"How rude!" You scoffed. You jauntily walked towards his bed, flopping down as if it's your own. It felt so soft, and it kinda smelled like him too.

You closed your eyes and spread your arms. His expression softened that he couldn't hide a smile which you thankfully didn't see. He cleared his throat and picked up a pillow, throwing it at your face.

"Hey, I'll go get some coffee. Want some?"

"I've already drank one, but sure!"

"No wonder you're already so hyper. Now get out of my bed."

"Fine." You scoffed and got up, walking behind him on the way downstairs, making yourself smaller so they wouldn't notice.

"Light! You're up early." Sachiko greeted.

"Yeah, and it's her fault." He slid right to reveal your cowering figure. You shyly greeted his mother, flushing pink. "Oh hello [Y/N]! I didn't see you come in. Were you in Light's room the whole night? You two had a sleep-over..?"

"No mom. Why would we do that? She just has her own ways of disturbing my sleep. Is dad still here?"

"He's on the living room and just about to leave. I'll make you two breakfast."

"That's not necessary. We just need some coffee, after that we'll.. What are we gonna do again?"

"Play badminton outside."

"It's still a bit dark, don't you think?"

"It's alright. The sun is about to rise. It'll rise quickly." Light replied to his mom, taking two cups and then pouring hot water on them. "Mild coffee [Y/N]?"

"Nope. Black coffee will do."

"Didn't you already-"

"It was creamy white. It was bland for my liking. I need something stronger." You cheekily replied. He sighed and started mixing your coffee and then his own. "If I recall, yesterday I saw you walking home while drinking that black iced coffee from the convenience store. Too much caffeine is unhealthy."

"Yes, Sir Light, noted." You grinned, blowing your drink before taking a sip. "Hey, not funny. I'm genuinely concerned."

"Concern appreciated."

You both entered the living room, greeting his father who eventually got up, off to work. You sat beside Light as you both watched Sachiko kiss Soichiro goodbye. You smiled and mumbled an 'aw,' nudging Light and causing him to slightly spill the coffee he was about to drink.

"What?" He looked at you then to his parents.

"Nothing."

"Ah, I get it. You wanna do that with someone someday, don't you?"

"That's not-"

"It's okay. We all daydream like that, even me. So don't be shy."

"I'm not shy!"

"There goes my line."

"Hmp. So who's the lucky girl, or boy, you daydream about?"

"Why are you suddenly interested? Well what about you?"

"You didn't answer my question."

"Because that doesn't matter-"

"Unfair. You're so secretive."

"Fair enough since you're just as secretive as I am. You don't even tell me the guys you like, and I'm your bestfriend."

"Because that doesn't matter-"

"Why do you keep on stealing my lines?"

"Oi that's not the point! I mean come on, an honor student like you rarely talks about romance so when you do, of course I must know. I am your best friend after all."

Light cringed, chuckling. "There's nothing special about that."

"Pfft. Honor students like you are so busy with studying that you rarely have time for romance."

"What? No. Look at you, you're an honor student yourself."

"Yeah but I mean the pros, like you. The valedictorians, first honors."

"Just because I don't that about romance doesn't mean I don't think about it. But like you said, I rarely think about it."

"Ooh! So who is the lucky one?"

"Why do you want to know?"

You puffed your cheeks. Honestly you had no idea too. Let's just say you were... curious.

"I need to gather information. I need some information to sip. Either way I'll figure it out when I start my investigation."

"No."

"Augh- I'll disown you, Light Yagami."

He put his cup down, looking at you.

"It's not really possible to disown the person you like, you know."

The coffee that you were drinking almost came out of your nostrils.

"Don't have so much hubris on yourself. I can do a ten-paged essay about why you are so dislikeable."

"But you can do an essay about why you like me ten times longer than that."

"I am so going to hit your ugly being!"

His smile only grew wider, fascination twinkling in his eyes.

"Hit me with your sweet love, maybe I won't mind."

Not blushing wasn't really an option. He burst out of laughter as you'd been left speechless. You continuously punched his arm, but he never stopped laughing. And his laughter was indeed infectious.

As you two were having fun, you suddenly felt eyes on your back. You stopped and turned around, seeing Light's mother slyly smiling at the both of you as she slithered away towards the kitchen. You and Light avoided each other's gaze for a moment and blushed, finishing your coffees wordlessly instead.

"Well, I'll go change now. You wait here."

"Let me come with you-"

Light raised an eyebrow. "What a pervert you are, [Y/N]."

"NO! That is not what I meant!"

"Well what did you mean?"

"I mean, let me wait outside your room instead," You leaned in, whispering. "What if your mom comes here and talks to me? I mean.. I'm super shy around her."

He nodded in agreement but then he added, "There's no need to be shy around your future mother though."

'This smooth-talking bastard!' You sighed and rubbed your nape, 50% about to roll your eyes and 50% about to blush again. You knew what he meant by that. He had always been a tease to you. But you decided to play against his will.

"Wow. I didn't know that the Yagami family will adopt me someday."

"Tch, dummy."

"Did you just call me dummy?"

"What? Of course not! You really need to clean your ears. I said dumplings. Your cheeks remind me of them. And now I'm hungry."

"You are awful!" For the nth time in history, you hit his arm. "I'm really gonna disown you in one of these days. Now get your ass moving already so we can conquer the street first."

"Well you were the one constantly blabbering and delaying things here-"

"Beca-"

"Shut up."

"Pft. Fine." He pulled you up, holding your wrist even on the way back to his bedroom.

After about five minutes of changing to a plain white t-shirt and jogging pants, matching yours by the way, you two headed out the neighborhood. You picked up the rackets and shuttlecock you had left on the ground, handing him one.

"We don't really have a net-"

"Oh come on! This is just a friendly match, so there's no need for that."

"What about the scores? We can play somehow else if you'd like."

"That's not necessary. I'm making the rules, and the only rule here is that the opponent gets the score if you fail to prevent the birdie from hitting the ground."

"That's not how you play badminton.."

"I am well aware of that. I used to be a part of the school's badminton team, hello? But I make my own rules here." You grinned slyly. He shook his head. "There's no fun in this. You just woke me up to make me do some pointless things with you."

You were actually a little offended by that. You puffed your cheeks and crossed your arms.

"Is it bad that I just wanna have some quality-time with my friend? And to get my revenge, too."

What you said made his heart leap a little, and he was having a hard time resisting the urge to smile. But in the end, he only snarled against his own will. "Let's get this done quick. I'll make sure to destroy you."

"Oh, you wish."

And the game started. The eerie silence vanished, replaced by your grunts, pants, and intense movements. The sky was eventually transitioning from a dim purple to a pale yellow one as you two played, eyes focused on nothing but the shuttle, sweat dripping down your bodies. Light was just as determined as you were to beat his ass. The scores were being mentally recorded by you two-no cheating of course. It was a pretty fair game. One moment you'd be on the lead, but he'd take it, and you'd take it back, and the cycle continued. He was the worthiest opponent for you in this, and he thought the same about you.

The deal was a maximum of 50 scores. Currently, Light was leading and almost close to winning. Certainly you didn't want to get beaten so you struck the shuttle at a perfect angle with just enough force. It flew fast; you were sure he'd miss it. But his reflex was quick, and he struck it with a force much stronger than yours-but his flawed angle sent the shuttle flying higher than he intended it to, and it unfortunately landed on one of your neighbor's roof.

That neighbor just so happened to be the one you two-no, the whole neighborhood-absolutely detested.

Light rubbed his nape and laughed nervously, seeing your grimace. "I'll give the score to you then. So, you have an extra shuttle?"

"Unfortunately that's my last one." You facepalmed. You used to have lots of shuttlecocks but you just kept on losing them since everytime you play with someone, they'd either get destroyed in the process or fly too high and land on unaccessible places, just like what happened.

He frowned. "Seriously? What about inside your house? I'm sure there are a bunch of them tangled in your mess."

"I told you that was my last one. I haven't been able to buy more of them so yeah. But thanks to this nerdy friend of mine, I'm now left with none."

You were only being sarcastic, but it sounded way too derisive for him that he felt somehow guilty.

"Now what do we do.." You pouted to yourself. He averted his gaze which then met the ladder from earlier, a brilliant idea crossing his mind. But the last thing he wanted to do was to get involved, in any way, with that awful neighbor. A grim expression crossed his face and you saw it as you walked closer to him.

"Hey, I'm not actually mad at you, dummy."

"No- I mean, that's a relief. But I think I can retrieve it with the ladder. They might notice me though."

You snorted, but at least there was still a way to save that shuttle. You then looked at the sky. The sun was now rawly smiling at you. Surely those rogues weren't awake yet.

"You know what? I'll do it myself."

"Don't. You might fall. I'll go do it. It's a gentleman's job after all." He grinned. "Do you think they're awake?"

"I don't think so. The curtains are closed anyway."

"Alright. In case I fall, you stay below."

"Okay, Princess Light. I'll catch you using these strong manly arms of mine. Muah!"

"Ew."

Thankfully they didn't have a second floor so the ladder's height was alright- although still short. Once Light had climbed up, you stayed below, holding the ladder just to stay sure.

"Damn. How did it get that far?" He struggled to reach it with his racket, even with his arms and body stretched already. After a few valiant attempts, he sighed and steadied himself a little. He had an idea of climbing the roof but the risk of falling down in the process was high. And he certainly didn't want to squash you either.

"Well this is hopeless."

"Don't give up now, my princess!" You continuously poked his butt with the handle of your racket, causing him to give you a death glare, wobbling a little in his position.

"Are you asking to get squashed? Stop that or I'll fall on you."

"That was just to power you up, silly! Don't you dare fall on me."

"How about falling for you?"

"Bitch."

"Now now, don't say bad words!"

He chuckled and was about to continue his mission when suddenly, the curtains flew open, revealing a grotesque face of a woman staring at Light's crotch-because that's where the window was apparently placed.

Let's just say that you two never want to recall that twenty-minute rebuking that you swore went on even as you two had already left the neighborhood, heading elsewhere.

"That went well." Light heaved a sigh, poking your racket with his as you two walked side by side. You nodded.

"Mission failed. Geez, that woman just wouldn't stop talking and bombarding us with malarkey. I'm starting to hate her."

"To be honest who doesn't? The whole neighborhood hates her as far as I know."

"Pfft, right. So what do we do now?"

He poked your cheeks, and poked, and poked, before pinching them so hard.

"Stop your fetish for my cheeks! This is abuse!"

He laughed, a genuine kind. He didn't reply but put an arm over your shoulder. You puffed your cheeks and played along.

"Where are we going?"

"I'm a bit hungry. So let's head to the convenience store."

"Unsurprising but I didn't bring any money with me."

"Not a single cent?"

"Noooope."

"I guess it's fine since I'll be the one treating you. You should be thankful." You only smiled.

On the way to the store you noticed a group of older and drunk men resting on the side of the street. Their eyes pierced uncomfortably through you. You lowered your head, still feeling their laviscious stares nonetheless. Light also noticed this, and so he pressed himself to you. You hadn't even passed them and when you did, the inevitable came. They cackled, whistling and calling you by names as they rapped the table for attention.

You ignored them and thankfully, they didn't bother you more. "Those bastards." You heard your companion clicking his tongue in annoyance, looking back at the drunk men. He saw where their gazes were and it strongly disgusted him. There was an unnerving silence as you two arrived at the store.

You both had hotdogs with buns and ice cream which was your specific request and which Light reluctantly complied to. The two of you were sitting side by side, looking through the glass wall and discussing mostly about school projects and then some gossips which all came from you. After running out of food to munch on, Light went back to buy a huge bag of chips you two would be sharing.

The sky was now a saturated mixture of orange and yellows. People strolling outside were quickly multiplying until eventually the sidewalk got packed. Few vehicles came passing by. The day was starting for a lot.

"Those guys often do that to you?"

Snapping back to reality, you cooed, "Pardon me?"

"The drunk men we just came across with, was it the first time they've called you out like that?"

"Nope. They're always out drinking.." You saw him creasing his brows. "I know what you're thinking. Well they can't be help so don't think too much about it."

"Can't be help or not, that's still wrong. Did you see the way they looked at your curves? Those men reek danger for a young woman like you. Who knows what their next moves are?" Clenching his fist, he growled. He was truly worried for you. He knew how the world is full of suspicious people like them, and who knows that they're capable of doing?

"Now now worry-wart, don't be so angry."

"Why didn't you tell me sooner? You should really start walking home with me early. Does it kill you to immediately go home after school even when you have no business there anymore?"

He got you there. "But I don't want to instantly go home."

"Keep thinking like that and you might never be able to go home again."

You pursed your lips at how scary he made that sound. "Listen, [Y/N]. In this world, there are only a few people you can actually trust. And those guys? They're not looking worthy of someone's trust, even one bit. They're also not the only possible threats to you. Anyone you don't know, or even who you're acquainted with, could be. Even if they look so charming. I'm saying this as a warning, and as your friend. The way they looked at you really triggered me. I can't let you continue your routine anymore. Sure, I know you're going to argue that there's lots of bystanders in case something happens, but that's not always the case. And we're not even sure if they'll help you or proceed to give a blind eye to it."

There came a long pause as you absorbed his words. Hearing them made you feel grateful for having a friend like him-someone who speaks up because he cares about you and your safety. You merely nodded with your mouth agape.

"..I-I'll do as you say then. Thank you Light, really. I appreciate your concern. You give the best advices.. I-you're one of the best people out there."

"Sorry to suddenly explode like that." He smiled, and your heart softened. You asked, "And so, by saying that.. You trust me?"

"Needless to ask dummy. I wouldn't have said that if I didn't."

"Thank you. You know I trust you too. You're one of the people who's worth my trust." You flushed pink as you scratched your nape. This kind of conversation will always make you shy.

"You don't have to say thank you to me for trusting you. And what you said.. You're worth trusting, too."

You didn't argue. The following minutes were silent as you two stared at the void while eating potato chips. You didn't have any new topics in mind, and he seemed to be lost in his thoughts-or his daydreams. You didn't want to interrupt whatever was going on in that complex mind of his.

You absently stood up, craving for another black coffee, but you halted and went back when you remembered you didn't have your own money.

"Oh? You want something?"

"I want coffee. Well- if you don't mind. Ehehehe."

"That I am not going to buy for you. That's going to be your third coffee and the day's only starting."

"Hmph. Forgot I have a mom for a friend. But anyway, you good? You seemed to be thinking about something rather serious earlier."

"Yeah, I'm fine." He smiled. Although he was really deep in thought of something-but what was it?

As he'd already said, he trusted you. He had been friends with you since middle school. He developed the ability to read through your mind. With you both growing closer day by day, he had already memorized your hobbies, your predictably unpredictable schedules, your common moods, your personality, and your flaws as a human being. Heck, he could even write an entire biography book about you with all the facts 99% accurate if he wanted to.

To him, you were fascinating, despite the fact that you weren't his ‘ideal’ girl. But as they say, some ideals are bound to get broken when something unexpected and much more interesting comes along the way. Sure, you couldn't read his mind as good as he read yours. You couldn't decipher and foresee what his next moves would be very well, wasn't in the exact same level as he was, but he grew attached to you. He trusted you, which was a rare thing for him to do-and consider the fact that trust is a hard thing to earn. You were an honest person, mildly annoying at some point to him. You're one that's willing to help others too. Rarely gets the initiative, but when you do, you execute amazing plans and actions.

The world is ugly, indeed, but he considered you to be one of those who made it less that way. You were one of the beautiful people in this ugly, mundane world. And that, he admired you for.

He couldn't see you as just a friend anymore. He could basically see through you, like you were his other half-like you were meant to be. You were someone he could connect with, someone he trusts, someone he could love. The label 'bestfriends' bothered him because he felt like it didn't suit you both, because something else did.

A couple.

And going back, what he was thinking about was the act of courting you and becoming your boyfriend. But doubts flooded his mind, such as you two being too young for romance, the possibility of your parents being against it since he knew you once swore that you wouldn't get a boyfriend until the age of 25 (which was actually a half-joke), and him not knowing what to properly do afterwards. Was he ready for this? Having you as his girlfriend wouldn't really change or affect anything such as his studies. It would still be the same.. just with an upgraded relationship and label with you. Besides, he had been wanting to court you for some time already. And if he doesn't do it then he'd only grow more and more restless.

He wanted to be yours. He was sure you also reciprocated his feelings. Getting into a teenage relationship is easy and quick and maybe reckless, they say, but not for someone with a complex and rational thinking like him. There were some things to consider- but you know what Light said?

'God damn it.'

"Love."

"Huh?" You weren't expecting that response at all.

"I mean I was thinking about romance."

"Ooh! Finally, you decided to add some teenage thrill in your life. So, what about romance?" You gave a sly look. "Need help? I can be cupid, except I will be hitting you with my fist."

His smile was little but genuine, looking out. "There's someone I like for some time now. I've been wanting to court her."

"Awe! My boy has finally grown! My son is finally having a love interest! Eh, but why do you look so uncertain? Is there a catch?"

"Not really." He looked at you, his cheek resting on his palm. You raised an eyebrow.

"If that's the case then go for it! Who would dare to refuse the Light Yagami anyway? If you're feeling doubtful, which is highly unlikely for you, don't be. Any girl would swoon over you, even myself." You chuckled. He gave a fake impression of still being doubtful, looking down with his hands now on his thighs. It was a rare sight to see. You placed a hand on his shoulder, tapping it. Just then, he looked at you straight in the eye.

"It's not like you to lose some confidence. Come on, don't be sad. You can do it. Go ahead and court the lucky one. Cupid approves." You gave him a thumbs up.

"..If you say so," he seized your wrist and stood up.

"Can I court you then?"

[ithinkthiswasabadidea]

An Act of Healing

When Essek gets seriously injured during a battle in the ruins of Aeor, he thinks his end might be closer than he imagined.

The Nein help him heal and prove him wrong, and show just how much they care about him.

.

When Essek gets hit in battle for the first time, it comes as somewhat of a shock to him.

He had been briefed about the capabilities of the Tombtakers, of their arcane abilities, and so he expected his first injuries to be arcane in nature. What he didn’t expect was the fight just to get to the place in Aeor’s ruins that the Nein said they needed to get to, lest the world end.

He was on his guard. Of course he was. But horrors unseen for centuries would be enough to startle anyone.

So yes, he was shocked when the beast took a swipe at him and he was less nimble than he thought himself. It hit him right in the ribs, tearing like butter through his cloak and the warm, layered fabrics underneath. Talons raking horribly through soft flesh as he feels a cold, burning sensation at the same time as there is a hot screaming pain bleeding from his side. An unexpected nausea bubbles inside him as he reels from the attack, forced to his knees from the weight of it. He huddles next to a frozen boulder, deep, deep below and far from the sanctuary of his chambers where he could rest and recover.

His mind scrambles to make sense of what just happened and he tears his eyes away from the beast to steal a glance at his ruined body.

He never expected to die a clean death.

No matter if he was caught by the Empire or the Dynasty, they’d get his information one way or another, he’d be trialed, sentenced to death, or worse, life imprisonment.

He silently laughs a moment at his change of fate. The Mighty Nein. Of course. They would even change the fate of his death – bleeding out, fighting a huge Aeorian beast. Poetic, he supposes, that he should die helping his… friends.

An opening for him comes up to attack the beast in retaliation, he raises a hand towards it but it shakes, distracting him from the spell he would have used. So he stays kneeling, one hand pressed to his side, the other shuddering in effort from the lingering coldness and pain of his wound.

A moment later, he feels movement beside him, a figure skips up to him – Jester. No, not quite Jester. From his years honing his arcane arts, Essek can recognise the faint tessellation of her body indicating a duplicate. What he doesn’t recognise is the hand reaching from the duplicate to touch his shoulder briefly, a wave of purple and green sparkles emanating from the point that touches him.

Immediately, the horrible freezing sensation in his body fades, like Jester herself had wrapped him in one of her beautiful big hugs, the hugs he covets so dearly, and appreciates so deeply, yet would never ask for.

His side is still bleeding, but the residual cold that was sapping his strength by the second has dissipated. He shoots a wry smile at the Jester duplicate, hoping maybe the real Jester can feel his intention.

Slowly, over the course of a few seconds, he makes his way back up on to his feet, leaning heavily on the rock beside him for support as duplicate Jester skips away again.

One hand still clutching his side, slick with dark blood, he chances another spell. He spies Beauregard, nearly climbed on top of the thing, beating at it with her clenched fists. He remembers his success of Hasting Yasha earlier, and sends the same effect towards beau, her grim expression turning elated as she feels the extra adrenaline course through her body.

Soon after, he feels another body thump against his rock haven, Caduceus having been pushed there with a huge tail swipe from the creature. Caduceus wheezes a little, the breath knocked out of him before he surveys the room and situation, spotting Essek right next to him.

Essek quirks an eyebrow, rasping out, “This thing is no joke, eh?” Not expecting a response from the tall, quiet man, just looking to release some of his own tension and anxiety.

“That looks pretty bad. Stay with us, we need you,” Caduceus replies to Essek’s surprise, and a soft furred hand reaches over towards him.

Essek is about to protest as he sees Caduceus about to touch his injured side, seeing no point in wasting time on his wound, until he remembers ‘Caduceus is a cleric, this is his job’.

The hand on his side, darkened with blood now, pulses with a soft gold and pink light from Cure Wounds. There is an uncomfortable sensation as the air he breathes is suddenly warm and moist, like a forest after rain, rather than dry and cold, and the sharp pain that he’s been clutching onto fades. He chances a look at his side, nausea rising up again as his skin under the Firbolgs hand knits itself back together, closing the talon marks that raked through it.

Essek barely has time to choke out an incredulous thank you before Caduceus is moving again, away and back into battle.

While he mentally prepares himself for another bout at the beast, two figures move into his sight, both carrying fearsome, glowing swords more than half his height.

Yasha.

Fjord.

The two of them form almost a wall between him and the creature, taking its attacks like nothing. Shielding him from the rage of the beast.

There is a new feeling in his stomach, not quite nausea, yet it makes him feel uncomfortable, strange. He feels… protected. And worthy of protection. His friends… are helping him, because he has helped them. In the back of his mind, Essek quashes down his feelings of guilt and remorse, and allows himself just a moment of unburdened appreciation.

With new eyes he views the battle before him, the formidable force that is the Mighty Nein, and he realises and remembers just how good it is to watch them do what they do best.

In the end it’s Fjord who gets the killing blow, driving his sword through the chest of the beast as its death wails ring out in the chamber.

Essek feels drunk, or exhausted, or both, as the adrenaline begins to leave his body, making his movements slow and the room swims. There is still an ache in his side that is yet to leave.

A small voice calls his name, Veth, who hops down off a nearby rock and beckons him over.

“Yes?”

“Come on, we’re sitting down now, Caduceus is doing a Prayer of Healing,” she nods over to the space Caduceus has set out with a small candle and scented incense as the rest of the Nein form a loose circle sitting or slumped around him.

“Oh. I don’t want to intrude on his…”

“Don’t be stupid, you’re hurt, and he always does this for us.”

Essek shuffles over, towards the edge of the circle and sits himself gingerly on the cold ground.

“Essek, if you need healing, you gotta get a little closer,” the low voice of Caduceus rumbles.

“Oh, I… I need it less than everyone else.”

Before Caduceus can reply, a warm and steady hand is placed on his back and pushes him forwards, the weight of it heavy and familiar.

“Nonsense, friend, you need it.” Caleb says, gently but firmly pushing at his back until he is within Caduceus’ spell range.

Caleb plops down next to him, knee touching knee, and whispers lowly near his ear, “You fought, you were hurt, do not think that you do not deserve to be healed, Essek.”

Essek shoots an almost pained look at Caleb, conveying more than he could possibly say out loud.

“You are a far cry from the man we met in Rosohna, Essek. Your help, of what we are doing here? We could not do this without you.”

“You underestimate yourselves.”

“Don’t we all,” Caleb looks knowingly at Essek. “We grow from our trials and tribulations. So shall you. That is the nature of forgiveness, and friendship.”

There is a warmth blooming again in Essek’s chest. He’s unsure if its from the healing prayer that Caduceus is mumbling under his breath, or from the words of comfort and encouragement from Caleb, but Essek feels warmer than he has in months.