#so alright cool whatever and no instructions again

[mangooes]

Skincare or skinship?

Sylus rarely—if ever—bothered with skincare. His flawless looks were more of a lucky genetic blessing than any dedicated routine. But tonight? Tonight, he found himself dragged by his little kitten. Sitting on the edge of their shared bathtub, robe slightly undone showing his bare chest, while his wife happily pampered him.

"Alright, stay still," She instructed, dipping her fingers into a cooling facial mask and spreading it evenly across his face.

Sylus sighed dramatically, his crimson eyes half-lidded as he smirked. "Sweetie, if you wanted to touch me this much, you could've just said so."

She flicked his forehead. "Hush. Let me take care of you for once."

He chuckled but remained still, watching her with amused affection as she worked, her brows furrowed in concentration.

After smoothing the mask over his face, She suddenly grinned and plucked two cucumber slices from the bowl beside her.

"Here—" She playfully slaps the cucumber on other areas of his face and gently pressed them onto his closed eyes.

Sylus huffed a laugh his hand sneakly reaching for her fingers. "Naughty kitten....hmm, what is this for?"

"It's for your eye bags, Big Boss Onychinus," she teased. "Even you need to unwind sometimes."

Sylus chuckled again, though he let her do whatever she wanted. When she started massaging his shoulders, his smirk faded into a genuine sigh of pleasure.

"Your armworks are divine sweetie, Mmm... maybe I should let you do this more often," he murmured.

She grinned triumphantly. "Told you."

After a few more minutes, she clapped her hands together. "Alright! Now it's your turn to do it, Sysy!"

Sylus raised a brow. "Me?"

"Yes, you," she said, standing up and gesturing to the stool in front of the vanity mirror. "Time to return the favor."

Her hand tapping his chin teasingly, "Or if you don't want to I'll just ask Luke and Kieran to help— "

Sylus chuckled as he scooped her up effortlessly before she could finish her sentence, carrying her to sit on the stool of the bathroom.

"As you wish, princess."

She giggled, watching as he picked up the facial mask with an adorably focused expression. "Hmm... like this?" he asked, plucking the product from its container.

She nodded, laughing as he carefully—though clumsily—spread it across her face. His hands were large and warm, his touch oddly gentle despite his usual strength.

"Husband, you're surprisingly good at this," she teased.

Sylus smirked. "I'm good at many things, my sweet little wife."

He finished the face mask with a smug grin and wiped his hands. "Now, let's complete it." He reached for the last two cucumber slices and carefully placed them over her eyes.

She giggled in respond, sensing his satisfaction. "Are you admiring your work?"

"Of course," he said smoothly. "You look adorable."

With the mask still on his own face, Sylus leaned in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to her lips.

She squeaked, laughing, pushing his chest. "You're gonna smudge the masks!"

Sylus chuckled. "And? Who cares? We can just apply it again."

She sighed, laughing. "You're impossible."

"Only for you, sweetie."

"...How flattering," she teased.

Sylus tilted her chin up, pulling her closer to his thighs, his crimson eyes darkened with something deeper than mischief—something raw and unguarded. His lips hovered just above hers, his breath warm as his hands held her close.

"Then let me show you how much I love you, my little spa princess."

Before she could tease him back, his lips captured hers in a slow, passionate kiss. Gently closing the gap between them, lovestruck eyes, the scent of love, desire filled him.

When they finally pulled apart, leaving puffs of breathes. Sylus didn’t move far. His gaze softened, filled with an emotion so intense it made her heart race.

She blinked up at him, then tilted her head with a teasing clueless smile. Arms crossed over her chest, in a pouty manner

"Why are you staring at me like that? Is my face mask all smudged because of you?"

Sylus let out a low chuckle, shaking his head as he gently cupped her face. "No… I was admiring you."

She giggled, nudging his chest playfully, accusing him. "What, do I look like a work of art or something?"

He smirked, the corners of his mouth curling upwards slightly, amused. His one hand slid down from her cheek, fingertips grazing over her wrist until he reached her left hand. Slowly, he lifted it to his lips, pressing a lingering kiss against her knuckles—right where her wedding ring rested.

"Well…" Sylus murmured, his voice quiet yet filled with devotion. "If you were also an art piece…" He trailed off, rubbing his thumb over the metal band.

She felt her breath hitch, watching him with wide eyes.

His lips curved into a softer smile as he whispered, "Then whoever created you must have loved you dearly."

Her heart clenched at his words. The way he said it—like she was the most precious thing in existence—made her heart do backflips, a warm fire bloom deep inside her chest.

For once, she was speechless.

Instead of answering, she wrapped her arms around his neck, burying her face into his shoulder. Sylus chuckled, his grip tightening as he nuzzled into her hair.

"What, no retorts? speechless, kitten?" he teased.

She scoffed, her voice muffled against his skin. "Shut up."

His laughter was deep, but the way he held her—so close, so tight—told her everything she needed to know.

"I love you, Sylus."

She said, her face still buried into his shoulder, the man in respond huffs, nuzzling from her hair to her neck, giving it a quick kiss, a satified hum.

"I love you too, sweetheart."

And just like that, their supposed ‘skincare night’ turned into a tiny make out session...

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A pair of twin walked side by side down the dimly lit hallway, their footsteps echoing against the sleek marble floors. Kieran idly twirled a dagger between his fingers while Luke scrolled through his tablet, eyes scanning the details of a business deal.

"Alright, so this client’s been getting impatient. Wants to talk to Boss directly," Luke muttered.

Kieran sighed, slipping his dagger back into its holster. "Figures. You know how he is—doesn’t trust anyone but himself when it comes to negotiations."

"Yeah, well, let’s just grab him real quick and—" Luke paused, stopping just a few feet away from the master bedroom’s door.

Kieran arched a brow. "What?"

Luke lifted a hand, signaling him to be quiet. From behind the door, soft laughter spilled into the hallway. It wasn’t just the missus's playful giggles—it was Sylus’s low, amused chuckles.

They listened for a moment.

“Sysy! Your hands are freezing!” came her voice, filled with laughter.

"Mm? Then warm me up, kitten," Sylus drawled, his voice rich with amusement.

"You're impossible," she groaned. "And you're getting face mask all over me!"

Sylus let out a low chuckle. "I thought you wanted me to indulge in skincare with you. Now, take responsibility, sweetie."

There was another bout of laughter, followed by what sounded suspiciously like a playful struggle.

Luke and Kieran exchanged looks. Kieran’s lips twitched, barely holding back a grin. "Yeah, uh… Boss seems preoccupied."

Luke let out a long sigh, shaking his head. "Forget it. We’re handling this client ourselves."

"Smart choice." Kieran smirked.

Just then, Mephisto, perched nearby on a hallway lamp, let out a knowing caw. The mechanical bird flapped its wings once, as if in agreement.

Luke crossed his arms. "See? Even the bird thinks we shouldn’t bother him, he has probably seen worse."

Kieran snickered. "Besides, it’s rare for Boss to actually relax. Let’s not ruin the moment."

With that, the twins turned on their heels and walked off, leaving their infamous criminal boss to enjoy his well-earned time with his wife.

THE NEW HEARTFELT CARD MADE ME DO THIS, I LOVE U INFOLD WE LOVE SOFT SYLUS IM GONNA DIEE GOODBYE WORLD, i wrote this just five minutes after that goddamn card trailer was released

[dreamsteddie]

Stretch Zone

I was feeling inspired and wrote the first little bit of this Yoga Steve Steddie and Buckingham au I was playing with yesterday. Not sure if I'll continue with it, but I had some dialogue floating around in my head and wanted to let it out.

I'm not really experienced in writing dialogue so my apologies if it came out weird.

Part Two

------

Steve thinks Robin is being ridiculous, but at the same time, he knows firsthand how far someone will go for a crush. Robin calls him a “loverboy” which, is not completely off the mark but feels unnecessary to point out right after Steve gets ghosted…again.

But that’s beside the point. The point being that Robin has been going off about how she cornered herself into going to an intermediate yoga class to try and woo the cute girl who sits in front of her in her mandatory Writing 212 class. Apparently, Robin got a full two minutes of conversation in with said girl, a real feat since Robin usually spends the whole class psyching herself up to talk to her and then chickens out and dashes out the door as soon as class lets out. During said conversation, Robin found out Chrissy is a yoga instructor at the rec off campus, which resulted in Robin blurting out that she’s been meaning to take up yoga again (she’s never been) and that she’ll stop by a class sometime.

Which leads to now.

“-and I’ve never done yoga! I’ve never even thought about yoga except for that one time my hippie aunt Jen came to stay with us for a week and took up the entire living room every morning to do her weird stretches-” breath “and you know how clumsy I am! I’m going completely fall on my face and the angel that is Chrissy Cunningham is going to know that I’m a failed jock with no coordination and she’ll never fall in love with me!” she finally stops, taking a big heaving breath.

Steve, used to these occasional Robin Buckley rants had been leaning against the breakfast bar letting her go on for the last three and a half minutes. Sometimes it’s just better to let her get it out first.

“You done?” Steve asks, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m done,” she replies, flopping on the sofa behind her like all the wind has gone out of her sails. Steve hates to see her upset, but at the end of the day, it’s an easy fix.

“Sweet. So I’ll just go with you alright? And when you completely biff it and fall on your face I’ll just,” he steps away from the bar and mimes falling onto the couch next to her, ignoring her over-exaggerated oof, “fall even harder, or whatever. Make a whole scene of it.” Robin glares a little at the when, but ultimately can’t be upset when they both know it’s inevitable.

“Seriously?” she asks, eyes big and blue in a way that always makes Steve want to punch a wall. He doesn’t. Only did it once when they were both supremely drunk and feeling emotional, but he does wrap his arms around her narrow shoulders.

“Eh, why not? Maybe I’ll even find a cool yoga babe of my own to woo,” he says waggling his brows in a way that makes her scrunch up her nose.

“As if Harrington. I bet you’ll fall even more than me. You’re big jock muscles aren’t designed for flexibility,” she says with a faux pretentious accent.

“We’ll see about that, Buckley.”

------

Steve, much to Robin’s chagrin, does not fall on his face. Well, he does once, but it’s only because he’s following through on his promise to crash out for her when she falls on her face. Which she does almost as soon as Chrissy gives the instruction to lift their left leg while in downward dog. Unfortunately, it only worked the first time. The second time Robin crashed down, Steve wasn’t in a safe position to fall with her. By the time he was, the moment had passed. Luckily it’s nearing the end of the class when it happens and Chrissy mercifully releases them to relax into a corpse pose which, if you asked Robin, was perfectly fitting given the situation.

Steve though.

Steve really enjoyed the class.

Robin was right when he said his usual exercise regime wasn’t necessarily focused on flexibility and balance, but he finds yoga challenging in a gentler way than basketball or swimming. By the end of the day, he’s signing up for the full 12-week course and talking to Chrissy about what kind of equipment he should invest in.

“The most important thing is the grip. Mine was really expensive but I use it for work so I wouldn’t get the same one unless you’re planning to use it every day. If you’re comfortable giving me your number, I can send you some links to more reasonably priced ones.” Wow, Steve gets why Robin likes her so much. She’s like a walking ray of sunshine. Part of him wonders if she’s hitting on him, but she seems like she genuinely wants to help, not take him on a date.

“Sure, yeah, that would be great. Let me just…” he pulls out his phone and unlocks it, handing it over to the girl in front of him. She puts in her name and number, which, is always good. Steve is so bad with names he wouldn’t want to spell it wrong and give Robin another reason to make fun of him. She hands it back and Steve is getting ready to say his goodbyes and go hunt down Robin, who fled as soon as the class went out, but Chrissy starts talking before he can.

“You came with Robin, right? Robin Buckley?” She blurts out, clearly nervous. “We’re in class together but I didn’t know she had a boyfriend. It’s nice to meet you!” It’s not that Steve thinks she’s lying, but there’s an undercut of something that makes him think Robin might not be alone in her pining.

“Yeah, we came in together.” He lets it hang, watching as her shoulders slump a little. “But we’re not dating or anything. I’m, uh, not really her type.” Her eyes go a little wide at his emphasis on type, perking up at the knowledge that Robin isn’t dating.

Oh yeah, he thinks, she’s got it just as bad.

[pillowhoep]

Unstable Elements Pt. 2 ♡ S. Mingi

NSFW | MDNI 18+ ONLY

Summary: Avoiding Mingi has proven to be difficult for you, but maybe you should just give in to your curiosity...

Pairing: fwb!mingi x female!reader

Genre: | angst | non-idol au | college au |

Rating: 18+

Word Count: 6.9k

Content Warnings: cursing and nicknames (lmk if I forgot anything)

Author’s note: This is part 2, again this is my first fic so um give ur girl some grace. I can’t wait for the US tour!

Your car broke down, so you’ve been taking the bus for 3 days. Slowly becoming accustomed to the routes, you enjoy the extra time to do some flashcards or listen to some music, but you’re worried about taking the bus today so late at night. That’s exactly why you have to finish lab early today. Aside from creepy late-night buses, you also promised your friends that you’d hang out today. They’ve been trying to get a hold of you for the past month, but you just have responsibility after responsibility. To make sure you’re prepared for lab, you’ve been flipping through the pages of this week’s protocol until your eyes get stuck on the phrase “partner lab”. It repeats in your head like an echo. You and Mingi have to work together. How are you just now noticing this? The mere thought of working in tandem has you stressed. The interactions from the lecture are still leaving a bad taste in your mouth, but you’re gonna look ridiculous if you act angry with him. Better to just act nonchalant and… what the fuck, you’re so angry and chalant. How could he leave with someone else so easily after specifically finding and sitting next to you during the lecture? To make the whole situation worse, so much worse, you were about to go “hang out” with him. And you looked easy! The bus stops as your mental turmoil unfolds. 

Upon arriving to lab, you immediately notice Mingi, who is quick to avoid eye contact with you. Trying not to pay him any mind, you head over to your bench and continue to look through your notes. Suddenly, Hongjoong appears in front of the class. “Alright, everyone, before we start, I want to remind you to be very careful with today’s lab! Any mistake will result in you having to restart. I do not want to stay late to help anyone finish, and you also don’t want to stay late. So, everyone, be mindful of that and let’s begin!” Mingi has been talking to some girl since you’ve arrived, and you begin to wonder if you’re on your own again. You hope not, this lab is so complicated with the precise measurements and timing–

“Hey.” He silently walks to his side of the table. You didn’t even notice him approaching you. 

“Oh, hey. I was thinking you found another partner, haha…” he just stares at you, eyes wide open. 

“Oh, about that…” Your face suddenly mirrors his expression, and your hands fly up to defend yourself. 

“Oh—that’s not—I didn’t mean it like that. Um, let’s just start.” Too soon. God, you probably look so desperate right now. 

“I mean, I understand if you—”

“Okay! Grab that flask and I’ll start the setup.” The only thing you can do to avoid the awkwardness is focus on your work. You guys start by adding the different compounds into the flask, in silence. You can tell Mingi really does want to address the elephant in the room, but every time he’s about to speak, you throw another set of instructions at him to avoid it. You don’t need his pitiful sorry or whatever excuse he’s gonna give you. It’s just such a weird situation, so you’d rather avoid it altogether. 

It’s been about 45 minutes, and the experiment is going very well. You decide to do a quick check-in with Hongjoong to make sure you’re on track. After your small discussion, you head back to your side of the bench, face glued to your paper, when Mingi suddenly speaks up. 

“So we’re cool?”

“What–”

“You know, the lecture and all.” 

“Yeah, no, everything’s cool.”

“You sure?”

“Yes.” You didn’t think you were being weird. You've been trying very hard to be normal, chill. Okay, earlier with the joke, you were just trying to be conversational and make a light-hearted joke. Obviously, it made things worse, but it doesn’t matter anyway. The situation is beyond awkward now. Whatever you and Mingi had is definitely not happening anymore. So you’re back to cordial, professional, lab partners. 

As the two of you progress through the last remaining steps of the protocol, you make sure to keep a watchful eye on Mingi and explain all of the steps in detail before he does anything. Especially because this is the most mistake-prone part of the lab, but your confidence is high. Every product you’ve made thus far has been close to perfect (which has helped the debacle from earlier). If all goes according to plan, you’re set to leave early. “Okay, now add 10 micrograms of enzyme N to get the reaction going, and I'll go get Hongjoong. Once we show him, we can leave.” Mingi nods without looking at you. Still awkward. You wave your TA over from across the room. “Done already, y/n? You guys are good, I’m surprised.” You hold up the centrifuge tube in front of Hongjoong, and he gives you a puzzled look with his eyebrows furrowed. His eyes darted between you, Mingi, and the centrifuge tube. 

“...What’s wrong?” You ask reluctantly. 

“It looks… off. Did you guys centrifuge it after adding enzyme N?” 

“No, we didn’t. Right, Mingi?” Mingi vigorously nods in response to your question. Hongjoong was still holding your tube, squinting at it. He clicks his tongue and sighs, “I’m sorry, guys, the DNA is completely lysed. You’re gonna have to start again. But hey, it’s still early. You guys should be able to finish in an hour. Or two. But that’s why the lab is 4 hours! It’ll go a lot faster than you guys think!” You stood in front of your TA, expressionless. The experiment just took almost two hours, and you were sure everything went well. You and Mingi followed the protocol to a tee. How could this even happen? You prepared for this lab in advance, specifically to avoid this outcome. You couldn’t even argue with your TA. All you could do was look down and say, “I understand.” Well, there goes any chance of getting to hang out with your friends. You desperately needed that hangout after the long weeks of working 6 hours just to go home and lock yourself in your room to study. It would’ve been your time to relax, but now you have to swallow your defeat and text your friends that you can’t make it. “I really don’t know what we did wrong, Mingi. Sorry, I should’ve been paying more attention.“

“What? Don’t worry about it. It was probably me, so I’m sorry. Plus…now I get to spend more time with you, so I don’t mind.” You fake laugh. This is not the time. “Haha, yeah. I guess.” As you walked to the front of the room, defeated, Mingi was so grateful that you didn’t notice that he was the one who messed up. He accidentally added too much enzyme because he grabbed the wrong instrument. He didn’t do it on purpose, the bench was a mess, and his hand just kinda slipped. When you came back to the bench with tears in your eyes, he started to panic. “Hey, I don’t think he’s gonna take any points off because we messed up. It really is my fault, I’m sorry.” His demeanor instantly changes. You slowly raise your head to face Mingi, “It’s not even about the lab.” You look up, trying to make sure you don’t cry. It’s embarrassing enough that you’re tearing up about a failed lab, but it’s worse in front of Mingi. “I was supposed to hang out with my friends, and now I have to cancel.” You can barely speak as you’re trying your best to hold in your frustrated tears. You open your phone to check the time, “and now I’ll miss the last bus too!” You said, looking everywhere but at him, you look like a mess. The thought of all of your wasted energy brought tears back into your eyes. You go from work to class, then class to studying. You truly haven’t had a break in so long, and this week has been particularly bad. You almost got fired over a mistake you made because you were so tired from staying up to study the night before. Then, you failed a quiz worth 20% of your whole grade. To top everything off, your car stopped working and it’s gonna cost a whole fucking kidney to fix. Just when you thought it was over and you could just go home to relax, this happens. Not only do you have to cancel on your friends, but you also have to find a ride. 

You blink away your tears again and get to work at your bench. Mingi feels like a horrible person watching you try to compose yourself. He wants to get down on his knees and apologize to you, but he wouldn’t dare tell you the truth when you’re this upset at yourself. He has to take responsibility in some way, so he runs across the room and grabs a chair. “Here, I remember the procedure. I’ll do it, you sit and relax for a second.” You use your sleeve to dry your eyes as you sit down. “Thanks, but I just want to make sure—”

“I know, just sit and watch me. You basically did this whole thing alone.”

“Mingi, I don’t think—”

“Just trust me, tell me what to do and I’ll do it.” Mingi shoots you a crooked smile waiting for an answer to his offer, you really don’t wanna do this again. You accept his offer with an unenthusiastic “Mmm.” Before you can give your first command, he surprisingly begins working, you've never seen him so focused. After a couple minutes of just sitting down and instructing, you stand up to check on him. Everything looks perfect. 

“Thanks for taking over.” You flash a defeated smile. 

“It’s honestly the least I can do. We both know it was me who messed up.”

“Well, we don’t know that.” The guilt pangs through his heart, he didn't anticipate you being so tolerant of his mistake. 

He bites his lip as he drops exactly 10 micrograms of enzyme N into the tube. Once the material falls into the solution, he quickly closes the lid making sure not to agitate the concoction. “Okay, we should be fine now.” With a raise of his hand Hongjoong appears with a pleased expression. “Perfect. Just like this. You see how the tube is cloudy as opposed to that stringy appearance earlier?” You and Mingi nod. “Those strings were pieces of the lysed DNA. I’m glad you were able to work it out, and now we can leave on time.” Hongjoong grabs your tube and walks away. “Yeah, good work, y/n.” Mingi lightly taps your arm with the back of his hand.

“Thanks, you did very well today too, Mingi.” You give him a small tap too.

“Today?”

“Well, today you showed a lot of initiative.”

“Is it that hard to compliment me, y/n?” With a long sigh, you roll your eyes and continue to clean up the bench. With your hands full of dirty flasks you walk across the room to the sink to rinse them and Mingi follows behind. “Earlier you said something about the bus?” 

You laugh nervously, “Yeah…my car is in the shop.” He grabs all the instruments, shoving them into the drawer next to you. Mingi nods in response then takes a silent moment to think, “You want a ride?” For a whole minute, you consider his idea. It is really late and you don’t have someone you can call. You also don’t want to spend money on an uber but that means you'd have to be in a closed space with him. Then again, it’s always good to save some money here and there. “Uh, yeah if you don’t mind. Thanks, I appreciate it.” To your surprise, Mingi didn’t make a weird remark or an awkward flirting attempt, he just acknowledged you with an, “Yeah, I got you.” At least he isn’t being weird. 

You finally finish cleaning up around 11pm. There’s sounds of thunder as you and Mingi walk outside. He leads you over to his black car with very dark tints and the license plate displayed on the dashboard. You can tell that there are so many illegal things about this car but your need to get home is outweighting your judgment. “Those tints are definitely illegal,” you point at his car, reluctant to get in. “Trust me, they’re fine,” he gives you a reassuring smile before getting into the driver's seat and ushering for you to join him. The car is cleaner than you expect. You nestle into the seat, placing your backpack on the ground. You look around his car, just to take it in, and the first thing you spot are condoms near his gearshift and the color in your face fades. Oh no. As soon as Mingi hears you go silent he knows exactly what you're looking at. With wide eyes, he grabs them and throws them into the backseat, “Those are my friend’s,” he assures you. “Ha, yeah...” He hands you his phone so you can put in the address, it’s a 15 minute drive. When you hand his phone back to him he asks, “You wanna play some music?”

“No. Just play whatever.”

He takes the phone back from your hands and plays some slow songs, resembling the ones on a sex playlist. You roll your eyes and turn your head to him slowly. 

“Really?” You say disgusted.

“What? I just wanna set a good mood for you.”

“A good mood?”

“Yeah, you were sad. So, you know–”

“Mingi, I gave you a pass on the condoms, but this? Don’t think just because you’re giving me a ride, I’m gonna–” He closes his eyes and chuckles, covering his face with his hand. 

“Y/n, please. I’m not that desperate.”

“I don’t know what you’re thinking.”

“Okay fine, but I’m not a creep.” He mumbles as he turns his car on. 

As he drives, it starts raining heavily. The rain noises combined with his “soft playlist” playing quietly, you begin fighting the urge to fall asleep. You look over at him sitting back in the seat, driving with one hand. His right hand is placed on his thigh. He actually looks really good right now. He suddenly turns his head to catch you staring and quietly laughs to himself.

“Past your bedtime?” You exhale, amused. “Yeah, I was supposed to be wine-drunk in bed by now.” Leaning against the window, you close your eyes and begin dozing off. 

“So, what were you and your friends gonna do today?” 

“Oh we were just going to cook and have some wine.”

“Wow, sounds like a blast.” You wake up to lightly slap his arm after hearing the sarcasm in his voice. “It would’ve been a blast, if someone didn’t mess up.” He jumps when your hand makes contact with his arm, “You knew?!” 

“Yeah, obviously, I made sure I did everything right. Leaving you as the only variable—” 

“I’m really sorry. About everything. The lecture too.” You fondly smile, still leaning against the window. “It’s fine. I guess with this ride we’re even because I live so far.” You start to heat up. Mingi really has no problem with confrontation, it’s actually kinda scary. “It’s no problem, I live close to you. I can drive you to lab next week. To actually make it even.” 

“Thanks but my car should be good by then.” You go back to dozing off. “Okay, but I live really close so let me know.” 

“How close?”

“Like two blocks. You’ve probably been there already. My roommates throw a lot of parties, you should come sometime.” He sends you a knowing smile.

“No.” You keep your eyes closed in protest to his advances.

“Just to hang out, y/n.” You loved when he said your name in conversation, it sounded so perfect in his baritone voice. “You don’t party?”

“Hmm, sounds suspicious.” Your eyes are fully open now but you’re too busy twirling your hair in your hand and looking out the window to notice that Mingi’s been desperately waiting for you to look at him. 

“It’ll be fun. We’d have a lot of fun together.” 

“I thought you said you weren't a creep, Mingi.” 

“I’m not but, you know, shooters shoot.” He shrugs his shoulders casually but you can’t think of anything to say. So there’s just silence. Since you’re a little caught off guard, you keep looking out the window. When you finally manage to gain some composure, you face Mingi but he speaks up before you can.

“What? Not funny?” He says laughing.

“Is it not embarrassing to just say stuff like that?”

“No. I’m just messing around.” The car stops at a red light, allowing Mingi to fully turn his face to you. You purposely keep looking away from him because you can’t handle this mental standoff. “Plus, I know you like it. Right?” He grabs your wrist that’s resting on the center console, and shakes it a bit. You leave your wrist in his grasp and turn to answer him.

“…You don’t know what I like.”

“I think I can take a guess.” His gaze flickers your lips and he starts laughing. Snatching your wrist away from him, you fold your arms and shift your legs towards the door. You’re so sick of his attitude.

“Shut up. The light’s green.” 

“Yeah, I can see that.” He can’t see your face, but he needs to see you so he waits. Despite the green hue, the car doesn’t move, you look up and all you see is Mingi staring. 

“It’s green.”

He still doesn’t say anything, just stares at you with a smirk like he’s waiting for you to say something. You finally speak up, “What?” 

“Nothing.” You turn away again with a soft groan. It’s hard to admit but he has such a strong effect on you. Maybe it’s because you kinda like him and you haven’t felt like this in a while. Denying your interest in him won’t do anything. Your “interest” isn’t romantic, or at least you think, it’s more so just a small curiosity. Curiosity about what being with him could be like. Mingi doesn’t seem to be the stable, relationship-seeking guy you usually go for. In fact, he’s the exact opposite and that has left you with some confusing feelings. With all your thoughts about Mingi clouding your mind, you almost forget that he’s in the car with you.

“Y/n.” You snap your head in his direction, a little nervous.

“Yeah?” 

“Uh. We’re here.” This car ride with Mingi, which felt a lot longer than 15 minutes, has come to an end. It’s still pouring rain outside of his car. The heat is blasting so the windshield and windows start to fog up. Rain is falling heavily all around you. You look towards Mingi who’s sitting, quietly waiting for a response from you. He’s just wearing a hoodie and some pants but why does he always look so fucking good? His blonde hair pushed back messily, he just sits there looking at you with those eyes. Unconsciously, you lick your lips and Mingi’s eyes fall to your lips. The second he moves towards you, you unbuckle your seatbelt and grab your stuff to make a quick exit. “Okay. Well, thanks again for the ride—” 

He chuckles and unbuckles his seatbelt too. “You wanna wait until the rain lets up a bit?” It was just across the street, but the rain was really coming down. 

“I can just run, don’t worry—” 

“I’m not gonna do anything.” You freeze. When you finally meet his eyes, he gives a reassuring smile in efforts to convince you to stay. “What? I’m not worried about that.” In all honesty, he isn’t creeping you out or anything, you just feel so exposed right now. It’s so hard to tell what Mingi’s thinking. You sigh and open the mirror above your head, no wonder you feel so hot, your face is so fucking red. You never knew blushing was a real thing, always just assumed that it was a made-up thing for effect in TV but now you’re sitting here blushing in front of fucking Mingi.

He leans in towards you, placing his elbow on the center console and his face on his palm. “You look good, don’t worry.” When you close the mirror and back into your seat, Mingi is right next to you. There is a small distance between your face and his, you lean away. He smells so good, the scent is almost intoxicating.

“Thanks, Mingi.” 

“Yeah, no problem.” He starts laughing again, he’s always fucking laughing. You look at him concerned, eyebrows raised questioningly. “Why are you so tense, y/n? Relax—” 

“Mingi, I really think I should go home now.”

“Okay. Let me walk you.”

“No, you really don’t have to—” He takes off his hoodie, exposing his toned stomach and you’re speechless. You feel like a pervert, staring at his exposed skin like you’ve never seen a man before. He turns his car off, opens his door, and runs around the front of the car. With hoodie in hand, he opens your door and nods his head, telling you to come out. You step out, puzzled, he creates a makeshift umbrella with his hoodie for you. “Okay, let’s go.” The rain is actually getting blocked by Mingi holding his hoodie over your head, you both run towards your building. At your front door, Mingi rests his hands against the door while you rummage through your bag trying to find your keys. You suddenly stop when you feel Mingi’s chest against your back. His lips hover over the shell of your ear, sending a chill down your spine. “Hurry up, It’s cold.” The shock of his deep voice being so close to you causes you to drop your keys. Mingi hears your keys fall, drops his hoodie on your head and kneels down, feeling around the wet ground to find them. While he blindly feels around the ground, you decide to be of some help and turn on your phone flashlight but your shivering hands drop your phone too. How can anyone be this bad at surviving in the rain? Mingi chuckles. “Here.” He swiftly hands you your keys and phone. Thank god he was with you. Your blind ass would not be able to find anything in these conditions. You promptly open the door pulling Mingi in behind you. 

“No survival instincts, whatsoever.” He says in between his laughter. You grab his sopping wet hoodie and throw it at him, “I was trying to help you!” In the light of the hallway, you noticed that Mingi was completely drenched and his knees dirty from kneeling on the ground while you were just a little wet. He runs his hand through his hair, pushing it back. Some wet strands sticking to his forehead as he shivers. His t-shirt clings to stomach, perfectly highlighting his cut body. While you were checking Mingi out, Mingi was also checking you out. His eyes trail down to the tight shirt that desperately clung to your chest then up again. He wishes he was your shirt. Both of your eyes meet at the same time. This is too much, you're definitely interested in him and the mere thought of anything happening between you two has alarms ringing in your head. The conflict in your head is giving you anxiety so you decide the best course of action is to run away. 

“I should head up. Thanks for driving me, bye.” Your face is so warm and probably bright red. You feel dizzy, like you’re gonna pass out as you walk away from the craziest set of decisions you’ve ever made. Your heart is pounding in your chest, it felt like it was going to explode. Your breath matched your heart rate picking up speed as you slowly walked up the stairs. “Wait, y/n,” you turn around to see Mingi still standing in the same place looking up at you on the stairs with his eyes wide. “Should I leave?” Your mind is screaming at you, telling you to both say yes and no. If you tell him to leave, you know you’ll regret it but you don’t wanna get caught up with him either… Well, it is raining outside and he drove you home, the least you could do was invite him up to dry off. Invite him up. Invite him up to your apartment at almost 12 am. With the way your body has been reacting to him, your professional acquaintance-ship is being taken too far and it might go even further if he comes upstairs. Who even cares about professionalism? If we’re being honest, the one who is giving mixed signals is you. But you’re just so confused. 

Mingi stands at the center of your entry-way, waiting for your response. You didn’t even realize you've been staring at Mingi in silence for a while now. He breaks the intense eye contact to look at the ground. “My bad, y/n, it’s getting late. You should probably go to bed soon–” FUCK IT! “Come.” You want to run away as fast as you can as he makes his way toward you without hesitation. Your steady steps to the second floor are followed by a second, heavier pair of footsteps. Your stomach is doing flips and you’re shaking, probably from the cold but you’re scared. As you walk to the door of your apartment, Mingi’s footsteps stop right behind you. You can feel his warmth as you stare at your door wondering whether you should take him inside. What will happen when he’s inside? Almost as if he’s reading your doubtful thoughts, Mingi asks, “I can just leave, it's no problem—”

“No, shut up. You won’t even be able to drive in the rain.” You’re right, even if you didn’t invite him up he’d still have to wait for the rain to slow down. He even got all dirty because of you. You begin unlocking your front door., “At least let me give you a change of clothes.,” you walk inside with Mingi behind you and make a bee-line for your bedroom. Luckily, everyone went to bed. He walks inside your girly room full of plants and stuffed animals and places his wet hoodie on your desk chair. “Nice room.” You thank him while you rummage through your closet, finding your XXL Pokémon shirt and your ex’s sweats. “You can change here, I’ll go to the bathroom.” He nods, smiling as you hand him the clothes, “Thanks,” his deep voice gives you goosebumps as you leave. 

When you get to the bathroom and see your face in the mirror you almost die. Your mascara is running and your face is bright red. While you take your makeup off, you have a mini heart attack remembering that there is a guy waiting in your room. 

You come back dressed in a black tank top and sweats. Mingi is leaning on your desk, hair still wet, scrolling on his phone. The sweatpants seemed to fit just right, they even hugged him in all the right spots. Your eyes widen after you see his imprint but you look away respectfully. Even looking at him was too much for you, wet hair slicked back, the shirt hanging slightly off his slender frame, and his plush red lips. Ugh. 

Mingi finally notices you standing in the doorway and immediately puts his phone away. 

“Thanks for the clothes, I’m surprised you have men’s clothing just ready to give out.” You send a glare his way, throwing your wet clothes in the hamper. “The shirt’s mine and the pants are my ex’s,” you say monotone as you clean the room up a bit. “Okay, I was gonna say, you seem like you’re used to this.”

“What is ‘this’?”

“You know, bringing a guy over, spare clothes prepared and all.” You scoff at him. 

“What are you trying to say? That I’m like you?” He turns his head to follow your nervous movements around the room, a diabolical smile paints his face. You’re too occupied trying to make your room look presentable; you don’t even notice Mingi creeping up behind you. “What does that mean, y/n?” You jump, hearing his words and turn around. Mingi traps you between his body and your bed, placing his hands on the mattress behind you. He raises his eyebrow at you and leans in, “What am I like, huh?” 

Before you can react to Mingi’s sudden attack there’s a knock on your door, “Y/n? You home?” You gasp and push Mingi away, pushing him behind the door so he’s out of sight. Once he’s hidden, you open the door to your roommate, terrified expression on her face. 

“What’s up—”

“What the hell took so long?” She tries to walk into your room, but you get in her way and walk out, closing the door behind you.

“What the f—”

“Sorry, my room is just…really dirty.”

“It didn’t look dirty.” You freeze. 

“Yeah well. You know.”

“Um, okay weirdo. I was just worried about you but you seem fine. How was lab?”

“You know, I’m like really tired, I think I’ll go to bed now. Thanks for checking on me. Goodnight!” 

“—Wait y/n.” You wave her off and slip back into your room when you unexpectedly find yourself face to face with Mingi. His arms are crossed as he stands a few inches away from you. 

“So secretive.”

“You gotta go, so let’s pack it up.” Clapping your hands together, hoping the rhythm gives Mingi initiative to leave faster. He leads the way out of your room, but you pull him back to check if the coast is clear and lead him towards your door. Once he walks out of your door, he turns around to say something but you promptly shut it. No goodbye, no thanks, no nothing. That might’ve been rude but you’re so tired. He’s put you through a lot tonight and saying an awkward goodbye would’ve just made everything even more weird. Your plan is to just bury this entire experience until next week. Not even gonna try to unpack what he was trying to do before your roommate knocked on the door.

There’s a cafe not too far from your apartment where you often study to change up your environment. With everything that’s been going on, especially yesterday, you need to relax and just do work. There’s a routine: you place your things down in your usual spot, order your salted caramel coffee, and check your email while you wait for the drink. As soon as you open your email your breath stutters when you see the most recent email from “Mingi Song”. Your finger hovers over it, what could he be emailing you? Lab work? The post-lab? How you basically kicked him out? It could be a number of things that you did not plan on thinking about until much, much later. Luckily, the barista calls your name, taking your attention away from the email situation. 

Moral support drink in hand, you unenthusiastically click on the email and begin reading, 

“Dear princess,

Am I picking you up next week?

Best,

Mingi Song (lab partner)”

You laugh at his unexpected email etiquette. Wow, kinda cute. His little email puts you in a sudden good mood so you decide to do your work because what do you look like wasting motivation? There isn’t much to do since you’ve been doing well to stay ahead of the syllabi, just a few timed quizzes and a blog post for your humanities class. You put on your soundproof headphones and start hammering away at each task. 

After finishing your drink you decide to take a small break and scroll through instagram to help with the caffeine anxiety. Clearly, that was wishful thinking because a “fixon_n_on” has requested to follow you on instagram, which you immediately select the delete option for. This is getting weird. Is he obsessed with you? You shake your head to rid yourself of such scary thoughts and continue to mindlessly scroll reels. The cafe has gotten so busy, there’s way more people sitting around you now. A large group of boys near the register are being exceptionally loud, enough to warrant you to look up from your phone. Today is such a strange day because you spot some very familiar bleach blonde hair and large rimmed glasses. Your stomach drops. You slam your phone down and attempt to hide behind your laptop screen to devise a plan to avoid that confrontational man but your table is directly facing the group. When you peer around your laptop screen to check his location, your lab partner is standing on the other side of your table in gray sweatpants and a usual black zip up hoodie, smiling down at you. Looking amazing, as per usual. His friend group, once incredibly rowdy, is now silent, all of them are staring in your direction. 

“You here alone?” He’s so relaxed, his hands in his pockets, chewing a piece of gum. 

You nervously giggle up at him, “Hi, Mingi.” He raises eyebrows waiting for an answer to his question. “Oh! Uh, yeah. I’m just heading home now.” The chair across from you is pulled out and he takes a seat, his friends are still staring.

“No, stay. I wanna talk to you.” Oh my god. Why is he tormenting you?

“Um. No, I think I’ll go.” You begin packing your things, you reach for your laptop but Mingi shuts it and pulls it towards himself, placing it in his lap.

“I’ll give it back once you talk to me.” You sigh and finally look him in the eye. He smiles when he sees your dejected expression. “Don’t look so upset, princess. Did you get my email?” You nod. “Okay, so?”

“I’d appreciate a ride, Mingi.” He smiles at you. 

“Good, here.” Your laptop is slid to you and he stands up and heads back to his friends then stops, “Oh and I didn’t forget that you kicked me out.” He walks away with his hands back in his pockets, leaving you just as perplexed as when he arrived. His friends start asking him questions almost immediately, you presume they’re mostly about you with the way the majority of them keep looking between you and Mingi. He says something, shrugs, and the entire group begins making their way towards the exit, loud as ever. With you still staring at him, Mingi turns around and waves you goodbye. He waits in the doorway for your response, but he's pushed out of the way by his friend before you can register anything. Out of sight, out of mind. A sudden relief washes over you, your muscles relax. Again you’re exhausted.

The entire rest of the week, Mingi hadn’t contacted you. The peace was unsettling but also surprisingly disappointing. Your anxiety is getting the best of you as well because he’s picking you up but he doesn’t have a way to contact you. You keep your email app open, repeatedly checking for a message from him while you get ready. You hear the notification go off and immediately stand up, grabbing your things. When you open the app, it’s just a message saying your quiz was graded. Sighing, you sit down at your desk. Maybe you’re too excited. Just as you’re about to put your phone away, you get the email and race towards the door before anyone can question you. “Bye guys!” You shout at your roommates in the living room, one is about to say something but you’re already down the stairs. When you finally get outside, he opens his window to say something but you’re quick to get in. 

“Okay, let’s go.” He frowns at you. “What?”

“I was gonna say something.”

“No, it’s fine. Let’s go.” Shaking his head, he shifts gears and starts driving. You grab the protocol from your backpack and begin reading.

“Do you have a boyfriend or something?” Your eyebrows raise in disgust. 

“Why would you say something like that?” Hoping your response is enough to stop any more ridiculous questions, but Mingi presses further.

“I don’t know, you’re always so secretive.” 

“No—I just don’t wanna answer any weird questions—“

“We’re lab partners. I’m giving you a ride. There’s nothing weird about that—“

“Everyone else doesn’t know that.”

“Excuses. You don’t have to be so difficult, y/n. You like me, I like you. Nothing wrong with that.” There’s nothing you can retaliate with because you do like him. You just keep your focus on the paper in front of you to avoid any more of Mingi’s philosophies. “So how are you planning on making it up to me?” You snap your head in his direction.

“For what?”

“For kicking me out. You didn’t even say bye.”  You look up, blinking aggressively and shaking your head, “I’m here, aren’t I?”

“Nope shut up. Gotta make it up to me now.”

You stare at him. “Fine. What do you want?”

“A kiss.” A gasp escapes you. You hold your hand over your mouth in an attempt to shield yourself from him. 

“Like on the cheek?” You whisper in fear but Mingi doesn’t answer, just laughs. He’s parking his car in the lot in front of the lab building. Once the car stops in place, he places his hand on the back of your headrest and leans in closer to you. You stay right where you are, “No, not on the cheek.” His hand slides down the side of your seat to the seat belt buckle, where he presses it in and your seatbelt flies off of you. You reach your hands up to cover your body like you’re naked. His whole body is leaning over the center console as he reaches for you, his hand comes up to hold your face in his palm, his fingers squeeze your cheeks. “First kiss?” Your breathing is so fast but you’re coherent enough to shake your head in a “no”. Mingi pulls your face to his and you instinctively close your eyes. They spring open when you hear him laugh. “Not scared anymore?” You reach up and push him away but he quickly places his lips on yours then lets you go after a light peck. “See? Not so bad, right?” You’re frozen in place, mortified. “Let’s go y/n, we’re getting late.” You don’t move. Mingi opens the passenger door, grabs your backpack resting in between your legs and pulls you out by the hand. Again, you don’t move and just stand in front of him. He takes this chance to try to kiss you again, this time you react quickly enough to push him away. “I had to try.” 

“Shut up, Mingi.” You snatch your bag from him and walk towards the building with Mingi chasing behind you. 

For the whole lab period, Mingi kept making moves on you. When you were doing the experiment, he tucked a piece of hair behind your ear. Every time you reached your hand toward his side of the table, he’d grab it and interlock fingers. For the past hour and a half, he’s been all over you. You don’t know whether it’s the kiss or you giving him a spare pair of clothes, but something has changed in the chemistry of his brain. The lab today was individual, but Mingi hasn’t hesitated in letting you know that he misses working with you. There was some special glassware used for this experiment, so you had to head to the storage room to put it away. You finished early today, so you're the first one to put away your setup. The room is dusty and full of overflowing shelves. You reach the storage cubby with your table’s number on it and reach on your tippy toes to place the flask back in its place. The shelf is just out of reach for you, but you manage to get it up there with a couple of taps of your fingers. It’s still halfway off the surface, but it probably won’t fall. Just as you relax on the soles of your feet, you see a hand reach up and push the flask a little bit farther back on the shelf. A large, warm hand is placed on the left side of your hip. “You have to be more careful, y/n.” Suddenly, you're spun around by Mingi‘s two hands on your hips as they pull you closer into his figure. He presses his hips into yours. “What are you doing, Mingi?! We’re in lab. Someone could walk in!” You reach your hands up against his chest to push him away, but he doesn’t budge. “Give me a proper kiss and I’ll let you go.” You groan in response to his request. His hand slides up the sides of your body to grab the rack that you’re pressed against, caging you in between his arms. He leans in and kisses you softly. Your hands slide down from his chest and grab the sides of his shirt. He places one, then two kisses on your lips, his left hand slides around your neck to hold you in place while he continues his attack. His tongue peeks out and makes brisk contact with your lower lip; you open your mouth, almost as if you had heard a command. Mingi smiles at you and suddenly backs away, “We can save that for tonight.” He looks you up and down, then makes his exit, leaving you alone in the storage room to process the last two minutes… Wait, what’s happening tonight?

[setmeatopthepyre]

wip wednesday

tagged by the lovely @ambernotember, thank you <3

from pothos | pathos (the artist formerly known as phosphorescence fic), follows thispt 1 | pt 2 | pt 3 | pt 4

-

In Buck’s defense, he’d waited a full hour until after he knew Tommy got off shift before he reminded Chimney of his promise to call him, but if they waited any longer, Tommy would be asleep, or right in the middle of his post-dinner pre-sleep shower. The man has a routine and he sticks with it, and Buck still knows it by heart.

“Chim,” Buck prods, and mimes a phone call with his hand when Chimney turns away from the dishes to glance at him.

Chimney checks his watch. “Isn’t he on the same shift rotation we are? There’s still hours to go.”

“No, he’s been off for an hour already. He had a half shift, mandatory rest hours because they have him picking up Hegney’s flight shifts this week.”

Hen has apparently been listening in, because she puts down her book and fixes Buck with a very pointed look. “And pray tell, how do you know this?”

“He didn’t kick me out of his calendar,” Buck responds without thinking, and sure, maybe he bristles a little when Hen’s eyebrows raise even further. “What? I-if he didn’t want me looking, he would’ve changed the settings.”

“Buck---“ Hen begins, but Buck doesn’t give her time to make him feel bad about any of it.

“Come on, Chim, you promised,” he says, turning back to Chimney instead. “That’s---“ he hesitates, but he can play dirty if he wants to, “That’s what brothers do, right?” If he sneers that last part a little, uncomfortably conscious of how everyone’s turned to look at him, that’s no one’s business but his.

Well, his and everyone who turned to look at him.

“Yeah, yeah, okay.” Chimney dries his hands on a tea towel and fishes his phone out of his pocket, punches a few buttons, holds it up to his ear, and that won’t do to reassure Buck at all. He needs to hear Tommy’s voice for himself.

“Speaker, come on, man, put it on speaker.”

Chimney mutters something and Buck pointedly ignores the look he proceeds to share with Hen, but Chim does follow his instructions, punching another button and putting the phone down on the table where it rings once, twice---

“Hello?”

It’s Tommy. That’s Tommy’s voice. It’s stupid how good it feels just to hear his voice.

“Hey Tommy, it’s Chimney.”

A beat of silence.

Chimney taps the screen to see if the call is still connected. Apparently it is, because he adds, “Uh, Howie. You remember me, right?” with a bit of a chuckle.

“Howie, yes, of course. Sorry, long shift.”

“Well, not that long apparently,” Chimney teases, glancing up at Buck. “I heard---“

And oh no, oh no. Buck desperately shakes his head, makes a cut-off gesture. He definitely doesn’t need Tommy to think he’s spying on his schedule, or--- or stalking him, or whatever. Just because he hasn’t revoked Buck’s access doesn’t mean he needs to be reminded of that fact. Buck doesn’t want to know if he’d just forgotten, or…

“I heard you guys have a pilot out sick, was it?” Chimney pivots, smooth as ever.

“I, uh,” Tommy’s voice crackles a little. “Yeah. That’s… that’s right.” He sounds a little out of it, and Buck raises his eyebrows at Hen, Chim. Gestures and mouths, see?

“You sound tired, man,” Chimney says, rolling his eyes at Buck and mouthing shut up. “Everything alright there?”

Some rustling over the line, then Tommy’s voice again. “Yes, just tired. Rough shift and I have to be back at Harbor in… ten hours.”

Buck pointedly ignores the way Hen rolls her eyes and flourishes her hands at Buck in a told you so sort of way.

“Right, yes, I’ll leave you to catch some z’s,” Chimney says, grinning at their silent mime conversation while at the same time attempting to keep his tone cool for Tommy. “Just wanted to check in, see how you’re doing.”

There’s some more rustling, then quiet. “That's… really nice of you, Howie. Thanks.” Another silence. “Everything OK there?”

“Oh, for sure,” Chimney says seriously.

“OK, good to hear. Hey, you’re a good friend, Howie. Let’s catch up soon.”

Chimney beams. “Yeah, that sounds great, Tommy. Let’s do that.”

After he hangs up, Chimney takes a second to thoughtfully chew his gum, then crosses his arms and tilts his head at Buck. “I don’t know, Buckaroo. He seems fine to me. Post-shift loopy, maybe, but fine.”

-

tagging @sugarpenchant @beanarie @rcmclachlan @liminalmemories21 @emphasisonthehomo @epiphainie @rimatsu @frogsinflannel @agentpeggycartering @trombonechurchill

tag list for those who requested tags for this fic under the cut ↓

@fiyaerrigan @bisexualbrainrots @leashybebes @louuieferrignojr @rubydaiquiri @teabroomsandbooks @crimsonwildcat-blog @sweaters-and-silly @nochance-noway @manifestingchaoticvibes @hyperfocusthusly @frogsinflannel @beanarie @rcmclachlan @sad-girl-hours23 @ambernotember @apartmentsmoke @bidisasterevankinard @agentpeggycartering

let me know if you wanna be added or removed!

[stevieschrodinger]

Part One

“Double denim, bold choice.”

I’m not, like, doing this on purpose, Billy huffs, leaning against the bathroom wall. Maybe it’s you.

“What’s me?”

Maybe it’s you choosing my outfits, maybe it’s not even me.

“What like my own regular dress up Barbie, Billy edition?”

Maybe.

Eddie squints in the mirror, initially thinks he’s going to go for some speedos or something but then figures that’s way too telling. Billy Hargrove is hot, sure, with his curls and his stupid little mustache and his fucking golden tanned biceps- He concentrates on a Dio tee shirt instead. Like really fucking tries to switch the plain white tee Billy is wearing but – nope. Nothing happens.

You look like you’re constipated.

Eddie rolls his eyes, “It’s not me. The outfit. Or if it is, it’s not me doing it like, consciously.”

I know it ain’t you, Billy pops the collar of the jacket, hunches his shoulders and eyes himself in the mirror, you wouldn’t pick this, I actually look good.

And he does, especially next to Eddie. Eddie’s still bruised to hell and walking like he’s a hundred and fifty years old. Eddie’s hair is a greasy mess and he’s got patchy stubble all over his face. Eddie is still rocking a hospital gown. Eddie knows he looks like shit, and on top of all that he's now actually offended, "this isn't exactly what I'd normally choose to wear Hargrove."

Eddie’s got strict instructions to be quick, and to press the call button right after so the nurse can put fresh dressings on him. Eddie promises himself to do instruction number two to make up for the fact that he's playing fast and loose with instruction number one.

The water just feels so good. Even if he has been standing too long and he's slumped against the wall, it feels so good to wash all this shit off him. The near death. The upside down. The smell of hospital. All of it. He could stand here all day, but he knows, physically, his body will let him down on that one sooner or later, so he gets on with it.

Is that a bar of soap?? On your hair??? Billy sounds beyond horrified.

“Shhhh man, let me enjoy being clean.”

Tell me this isn’t normally how you wash your hair.

“Alright, I won’t.”

When we get out of here that’s the first thing we are going to sort out. Your hair is a fixer upper but we can definitely do something with it.

Eddie sighs, “can we think about this another time, my hair is like, not my priority right now.”

Billy falls silent for all of two minutes, jesus Munson, where have you been hiding that?

“My dick is not up for discussion.”

Why is he looking at you like that?

Eddie desperately tries to ignore Billy, but when he’s actually having a conversation it’s fucking hard, “thanks Steve.”

“And I rescued your guitar too, I don’t think there’s anything left at the trailer, but I’m pretty sure Owen’s won’t let me in again anyway, one and done kind of deal, plus I think they're going to like, take it away? Maybe?-”

Does he usually ramble like this?

“-anyway, I saved everything I could. It's in my garage right now, and these are the books I brought in for now, Dustin said you really like this one-”

Who the fuck is Dustin? Isn’t that one of Max’s little twerps?

“-but if there’s any that you want, just ask. Or something different, they've reopened the library now.”

What has happened to him? Didn’t he used to be cool?

“Thanks Steve,” Eddie can feel his fucking eye twitching, trying to ignore Billy, “I really appreciate all this man, like, I can’t tell you how much.” He thinks he's talking too loud to try and drown out Billy, and then tries to speak normally. Knows he's being weird from how Steve looks at him.

Suck up.

Shut the fuck up, he’s doing a nice thing.

“You okay? You went a bit like, cross eyed there.”

“Fine, fine, just not a hundred percent yet, or whatever.”

“Right right,” Steve nods, “I’m going to go and get the kids, they’re in with Max-"

What does he mean, they’re with Max? The panic that radiates from Billy is almost palpable.

Eddie repeats the words before he can even think it through, "what do you mean, they're in with Max?"

Steve rubs his forehead, then runs his hands through his hair and sits down again, "right, sorry. I did mean to tell you about this-"

Make him get to the fucking point.

"-so she was going to be the fourth sacrifice, right? Well El managed to stop it, from wherever she was. And that was what like, weakened Vecna? Stopped his plan or whatever, and I swear she's fine, she's getting better already, like woke up almost right away once Vecna was dead, Lucas says - but, he still hurt her. Both arms and legs are broken and," Steve takes a deep breath, looks constipated for a second, "she can't see."

The sight of Chrissie's white eyes flash unavoidably in Eddie's head. The sound of the cracking of her bones.

What does all that even mean? What the fuck is Vecna? Sacrifice? Does he mean Henry-

"Shhhhh just shut up a minute-"

"Oh," Steve sits back surprised, "sorry." He looks like a kicked puppy, "sorry I didn't tell you sooner, it's just...been a lot lately," jesus Steve looks like he's going to cry. "Sorry, I know it wasn't really my decision but it felt like you've been through a lot the last few days and I didn't want to make it worse - shit. Sorry. I'll uhm, stop now."

"Sorry. No," Eddie rushes to explain, waving his hands at Steve, "not, not you. Just the...this stupid fucking voice in my head-"

You're stupid.

"-I just, got overwhelmed. I'm sorry. I," Eddie huffs, "are you sure she's alright?"

Steve brightens, "yeah, she's doing great, the doctors are amazed at how fast she's picking up. But then, she's so fucking stubborn."

That's my girl.

"So stubborn," Eddie agrees.

"El says it wasn't even all her, she said Max fought so hard, it was amazing," Steve looks so fond, so goddam proud of her, Eddie cant help but smile.

They end up sitting like that for a second, just smiling at each other softly.

Okay, so what the fuck is happening right now?

Eddie clears his throat, looks away, and Steve stands up again, "you sure you're ready for this?”

“Yeah, yeah. I mean, thanks for keeping them off my back until now, I really appreciate it, you know.”

“Yeah, they’re great, but they're...a lot. Don’t ever tell them I said that I like them.”

“Your secrets safe with me.”

In Eddie’s head, Billy makes barfing noises.

I want to go and see her.

The second this lot clear out, I swear we will, I'm allowed out of bed now, so there's no stopping us-

But then Dustin’s there, throwing himself at Eddie, and all the kids are chattering all over each other, and Billy stays quiet for a little while.

“Don’t worry about me, Hellfire will rise again! In fact, next time you guys are in, bring my DnD books and something to write with and I’ll start planning-”

“The nurse said nothing too strenuous,” Steve glowers at him, from his perch on the other side of the room.

“Stevie! Baby! It’s just a little creative thought, a little world building, a little planning, don’t you worry your pretty little head about little old me-”

Is Harrington blushing???

Eddie slides right over that and carries on because that is the dumbest shit he’s ever heard and Steve’s already hiding behind his jock sports fixtures magazine, or whatever the fuck it is he’s reading.

“So where’s the little super hero? Do I get to meet her?”

“El wanted to stay with Max, didn’t want to leave her alone.”

“Oh,” Eddie feels warm inside. That’s real good of her, “that’s real good of her.”

Part Three

[sweetiesicheng]

dokyeom - tattoo

word count : 848

-

"dad!"

dokyeom looks up and sees you and your son walking into the room. all of the guys are getting photos done for the company, so there is equipment everywhere in the practice room that has turned into a photo shoot set.

"you guys got here quick," dokyeom says to you as your son runs up to him and gives him a hug. "have a good day with mom?"

"yea! we went to to the science museum and then to the art store," your son says as you walk over to him and dokyeom.

"art store?" dokyeom questions.

"he saw my tattoos," you mention and ruffle your son's hair, "and somebody wants to create a tattoo for me."

"ah, so we have a budding artist in our household now," dokyeom says with a big smile. he looks at you, "you're seriously gonna tattoo whatever he makes?" he asks you, clearly skeptical.

"within my own discretion," you answer your husband. "hey, baby? go say hi to everyone," you instruct your son. he runs off to say hi to his uncles and the other staff members he knows in the room. "i told him about tattoos being permanent, and that some people even regret them in the future. but i also told him that i'll love whatever he creates, whether it's on paper or my skin."

"aw, that's cute," dokyeom says to you. "do you two want to stay? i'm practicing with some of the guys in another room after we're done."

"will it be long? i need to pick up groceries," you mention.

"just for an hour. i can go shopping with you two," he replies.

"dad! uncle says he'll buy me a spaceship!" your son shouts from across the room, sitting with s.coups and jeonghan.

"hey hyung..." dokyeom sighs, "i'm the one supposed to be spoiling him."

—

once you go home for the day, dokyeom helps you in the kitchen while your son draws in his new sketchbook.

"hey mom," your son calls out to you.

"yes, baby?" you reply as you cook food.

"i drew a bunch of stuff! can you look at them when you're done cooking?" he asks.

you look over your shoulder with a smile, "after dinner, alright?"

"okay!"

"bud, clear the table. we need space to eat," dokyeom says to your son.

"yes, dad." your son starts clearing the table of his new art supplies. dokyeom takes some side dishes out of the fridge and sets the table as you finish cooking dinner.

"babe, you should look at these," dokyeom says to you.

"hm?" you look over your shoulder for a second to see dokyeom looking at your son's art that was left on the table. "bring it over here," you say, not wanting to step away from the stove.

dokyeom walks over and shows you a page full of doodles that your son created. different colors next to each other, lines of various shapes.

"oh, these are so cute," you compliment your son's art.

"right?" dokyeom replies.

"hey! my book!" your son suddenly shouts. you look and see him in one of the entranceways. "you can't see it yet! i need to draw more!"

"sorry, baby. your dad just really wanted to look," you say to him, slightly blaming your husband in the process.

"dad!" your son whines with a pout.

"sorry for taking it, bud," dokyeom says and hands the sketchbook back to your son. "you're just super cool, so we wanted to look it already," he says to him as your son hugs the sketchbook in his arms.

"you think i'm cool?" your son asks, making you smile.

"the coolest," you say to him.

once you're done cooking, all of you eat together at the table. your son recounts your day together again for his dad while dokyeom mentions his upcoming schedules.

"hey, babe," dokyeom calls to you. you him in response to let him know you're listening, "what if we got matching tattoos with his doodles?" he asks you.

"you want to?" you reply.

"yea. wouldn't it be cute to have matching onces?" dokyeom replies to you.

"mom, dad, can i get a tattoo?" your son speaks after putting his water cup down.

"ask your mom," dokyeom says to him.

"seokmin!" you yell your husband's name. "you know he can't get one at this age," you say to him while dokyeom tries to make you look like a bad guy. you see your son start to get sad. "baby, you can't get one until you're a lot older," you say to your son, "and your dad is trying to make me look like a bad guy."

your son gasps, looking at his father, "mom isn't a bad person! dad, you're being mean to mom!"

"i'm joking! i swear!" dokyeom says to both of you. "i'll make it up to you and get twenty tattoos that were created by you," he says to your son.

"no! you're not allowed to get them either! you're being mean to mom!"

"ah! i swear i was joking! babe!"

"you did this to yourself."

[everybodyshusband]

kinktober ; day two, jerking off instructions ❤︎ mist/rain

contains: rain's personified tentacle (she's a she), new summon rain, mist showing rain the wonders of sentient genitalia

approx. 1140 words. ghostober list compiled by @kroas-adtam !!

Mist’s breath is hot against Rain’s ear, her hand cool where she’s positioned it over his, guiding his fingers as they ghost over the length of his tentacle. They’d spent so long trying to coax it out of its sheath together that they’d both laughed in disbelief when they finally managed it.

“She’s shy,” Mist murmurs. “Bit like you, tadpole…”

“‘M not shy,” Rain protests, breath hitching as Mist guides his hand to wrap around his tentacle. He also didn’t miss the way she referred to his tentacle as a she. He thinks he likes it. “Just… quiet.”

Mist hums in agreement. “Always the quiet ones,” she says quietly, almost to herself. Rain’s not entirely sure what she means by that, but he can hear the smirk in her voice as she speaks. He gasps as the water ghoulette curls their fingers tighter over his tentacle, moaning softly as he tilts his head down to watch as the tip wriggles and squirms under their touch.

“F– fuck…”

“Nice, right?” She leans forward just enough to attach her lips to his neck, kissing gently over the gills fluttering there and moving slowly down the length of it.

Rain nods quickly. “Uh huh. It’s… different?”

He feels her grin against the bare skin of his shoulder. “Not a bad different, I hope.”

“No!” Rain is quick to defend himself. “It’s good. Really good. Promise.”

The water ghoulette throws her head back and laughs, jerking their conjoined hands tighter around Rain’s tentacle and pulling a soft moan out of him. “You’re not in trouble, little siren, it’s alright.”

Rain huffs a sigh of relief.

“Although,” Mist starts up again. “I do think it’s time you learnt to handle her on your own.”

“I– What?” That’s new. He can’t tell whether Mist is personifying his tentacle for an actual reason or whether she’s just trying to rile him up. Whatever the reason, he kind of likes it.

Mist takes her hand off of Rain’s, rubbing his arm comfortingly with her now-free hand. “You can do it, tadpole. I’ll guide you, tell you what to do. I Promise.”

Rain breathes in shakily and nods,  flexing his now lone hand over that unfamiliar part of himself. It’s silly to be nervous, he knows. It’s not like he’s never jerked off or fucked anyone before, it’s just that this and all its weird anatomy is an entirely new concept to him. He hadn’t even known he could do this until Mist had cornered him this morning, promising to show him a good time if he’d let her. He can’t deny that he’s having a good time—he’s loving all of this—it’s just different. She is just different.

Right now, she is wriggling in his grasp, writhing in strange, almost hypnotising patterns as she chases her own pleasure. Maybe this is why Mist calls her her own separate entity, it really does feel as if she’s got a mind of her own, focussed on her own whims with no regard for how her actions make Rain feel. Luckily, every movement of hers sends shudders through him, as if every sensation is magnified now he’s no longer in control.

“She likes you,” Mist breathes, making Rain startle. He’d half forgotten she was here, sitting behind him.

He laughs breathlessly, chuckles hitching on gasps as he sets nerves alight all throughout himself. “I’d hope so, she’s a part of me.”

“Mmm,” Mist agrees. “But better to have her like you than hate you.” She coos down at the tentacle, reaching down to run a finger along its length. Rain gasps as his hips buck up into her touch involuntarily. “She wants to see you cum, tadpole… You gonna give her what she wants?”

Rain nods helplessly. “Uh huh, wanna help her. Wanna cum,” he mumbles, squeezing his eyes shut as his tentacle rubs herself more erratically against his hand. Somehow he knows that she’s urging him to squeeze tighter, to move his hand over her. “Oh fuck,” he whines as he does exactly that, rhythmically squeezing his hand around her as he slides it up and down.

Now that he’s moving his hand, he realises that she’s self-lubricating and he cracks an eyelid to glance down at her length, now shining with slick. At that sight alone, his hand speeds up, pressure building low down in his gut as he does so. It’s a bizarre sensation, as if he’s jerking off someone else but feeling it in his own body. Briefly, he wonders whether this is what Aether and Aeon brag about being able to do, but that thought—and indeed all others—is wrenched from his mind as his tentacle goes ramrod stiff in his hand.

“Mist, I–”

“Keep going, Rain,” she murmurs against the shell of his ear. “It means she’s close.”

He nods, letting his hand fly as fast as it can over… her? Himself? Whatever. Vaguely he notices his arm is cramping but he doesn’t care, how could he, when he’s feeling everything else with such wonderful intensity? “Mist I think I– I think she’s gonna–”

“Fuck, that’s it tadpole.” She runs gentle fingers over the gills on his ribs as he speaks, sending shockwaves straight to his cunt and straight to her. “Make her cum for me.”

And really, that’s all it takes. At Mist’s murmured demand, Rain’s hand speeds its movements, droplets of slick practically flying off of his tentacle as he works her over the edge. His legs jerk as his muscles spasm, everything except pleasure gone from his mind as he makes both himself and the tentacle cum. She paints his belly in streaks of inky blue fluid as he cries out desperately and squeezes his eyes shut yet again against the onslaught of pleasure he’s experiencing. It’s like a dual orgasm, as if the both of them are separate entities rather than the one singular organism, and Rain truly does not know how to handle it.

He slumps back against Mist as he comes down from what might have been the best orgasm of his entire life, both Topside and in the Pit.

The water ghoulette’s chest rumbles as she laughs softly, bringing a hand to his head to stroke his hair gently. “You have fun, tadpole?”

“Mhmm,” he mumbles, too fucked out for real words just yet. She hums. “Good.” Her hands scratching against his scalp feel so nice, he could honestly fall asleep right here. As comfortable as he is though, there’s something pressing against the small of his back, something wriggling, and– oh. “I hope you can recover from this quickly, Rainy,” because if you thought she was good for you now…” He can hear the grin reflected in her words. “Fuck, just wait until you see what it can feel like when she has the chance to play with a friend…”

[httpscomorg]

Forbidden Secret Desire 3

Summary: You’re finally starting to fit in when you freak out in front of everyone. But twenty side eyes later and a lot of forgiveness from your friend Kurt, you discover a scary secret.

(Find What I’m currently writing by checking my pinned post)

Parings: Logan Howlett x Reader

Warnings: (Individual warnings per chapter) Panic attack, manipulation, hidden cameras, finally not as much awkwardness, social dissociation, being in the social eye. Logan is an official warning starting this chapter as approved by the FDA (Food and Drug Administration) because Logan is a DRUG. PLEASE BE AWARE that this will be a NON-CON fic. Do NOT get attached if you do not like non-consensual fiction. I will not change my fic plans because somebody decided not to read the warnings. Thank you.

Word Count: 4542 (All other Chapters here) Chapter 4

Tags: @remmyj10 @sammyluvsfics @badbishsblog @dickmaster3000

P.S. If you’d like to be tagged, ask in the comments, you also have permission to send an ask, but make sure it is NOT anonymous, so I know your username, don’t worry, I’m scared of confrontation too. But this is a SAFE SPACE where I will not judge. Thank you again. 

Enjoy your Forbidden Secret Desire...

“Alright, everyone, find a partner.” You shouldn’t be surprised that Logan was your teacher for your third period class. You remembered Hank and Logan talking about it the other day in the lab, but it still shocked you for some reason, maybe it was something else that surprised you, like the fact that he doesn’t just let everyone do whatever so he could get it over with. You knew he would be the substitute for both your third and fifth period classes for the rest of this week, and only because Xavier was out on some mission. The thing that bothered you the most now, was that you couldn’t partner up with anyone, and you knew no one would want to partner up with you. So you just watched as everyone else excitedly ran towards their best friends.

“Wanna be my partner?” A hand lands on your shoulder, making you flinch a little. It was Kurt of course. “We have a new student today and my normal partner is their guide.” He explains.

“Uh, yea sure. Cool.” Cool? 

“Cool,” he smiles, his little fangs showing under his lips.

“Everyone have a partner?” Everyone nods, including you. “Good, find a place on the floor and sit in front of your partner.” You follow Kurt to an open spot, there were only about ten other kids in the class so it wasn’t too hard. “Once you’re sitting with your partner, find three things you both have in common. You have five minutes to talk amongst yourselves, time starts now.” You realise he’s reading every instruction from a pamphlet, that helped it make more sense. “Also apparently the three things you have in common cannot be common questions such as colours, animals, etcetera.” He finishes, placing the pamphlet down on the teachers desk. “Now your time starts now.” He picks up his phone, and starts the timer.

“So uh. What are some uncommon questions then?” You shrug, trying to think of a question with him. Why do they have to be uncommon Xavier? What the fuck? You wonder and listen to other students' conversations, but everyone is trying to figure out a question just like you and Kurt.

Your eyes turned back to him, and his index fingers were rubbing his temples, it was actually frustrating him. So now you understand the task. It’s almost impossible to come up with a question that no one commonly asks, so of course, thinking is stressing everyone out. It was anger management after all.

“If you were a unicorn, what colour would you want to be? I’d probably wanna be white.” You tell him, shrugging a little, hoping it would calm his frustration.

“Oh yea. I’d probably be white also, I get tired of being blue.” He chuckles a little.

“Okay if you were a dragon, would you breathe fire or something else?”

“I'd probably want to breathe ice.”

“I think it would be cool to be able to choose.” You tell him, sitting back up and crossing your arms in your lap.

“If you were forced to do one subject for the rest of your life, what would you choose?” He asks you, understanding the project now.

“Definitely science.”

“Same, it’s a more fun subject.”

“Especially compared to anger management.” You joke, making him chuckle quietly. “Okay, one more question.” You prop your elbows on your thighs as you look at him. The rule is no common questions, so Xavier wants us to ask uncommon questions, with common answers.

“If everything in the world could only be flavoured one thing, what flavour would you choose?”

“I would choose vanilla. It’s plain, I can't get tired of it.”

“I would probably choose green apples, but not too sour.”

“How about the scent?”

“Scent I would choose vanilla.” He tells you, one again laughing to himself.

“Same, and there’s our three questions.” You turn your head to look at the projector, there was about a minute left and Logan was going around and asking groups how everything was doing. In another direction, a kid who could harness fire had smoke coming from the back of his head as he thought of another question.

“Alright and how are you two doing?” Logan asks Kurt and then his eyes also move to you.

“Good, we just finished.”

“No common questions?” You both shake your heads. “Good, you’re the only pair to finish so far.” He mumbles, moving onto the next group.

“So what’re you doing after your last class?” Kurts asks you, leaning forward to ask the question, his eyes trained on you.

“I’m supposed to help Hank- Mr. McCoy with another project.”

“You do that everyday.” He leans back on his palms.

“Yea, I never have anything better to do. Unless something comes up then I cancel.”

“So he doesn’t ask you for help? You just kind of pop in?” You nod.

“Unless he asks me to. Then it can be important… it’s usually stupid.” He smiles slightly.

“So my friends and I are having a little sleepover in my room tonight.”

“Oh…” You move your hands together, once again your thumb begins to pick at your skin.

“Yea, it would be cool if you came by. We're gonna have pizza, some drinks, and we're gonna watch a movie.”

“What movie?” You ask, the timer reaching zero as Logan walks back to the desk to turn it off.

“Whatever we pick out of the hat. Last week it was Big Hero 6.” He shrugs.

“Uh, yea. I’ll try, what time?”

“Around 9PM is normally when the others show up.” You nod in understanding, then Logan speaks up.

“Okay so, it says here that you guys are all supposed to stand up and share your groups three questions.” He tells everyone, reading the pamphlet out loud. “But I don’t wanna hear it. So the rest of the ten minutes in class is to yourselves. Enjoy.” He tosses the papers back on the desk and the students immediately begin talking amongst themselves. Talking about anything they could come up with. The news, food, anything, while you and Kurt stood back up, he walked to his friend group expecting you to follow. But you only make your way back to your desk to sit on your phone for the remainder of class. Logans eyes settling on you, and you know you’re not supposed to be on your phone, but he doesn’t bother making a scene, instead, his eyes rest on you, occasionally moving to other students to see what they’re doing or moving to look at his email, but the majority of the ten minutes, all he could look at was you.

And then the bell finally rang, and everyone collected their items in their bags before leaving the classroom for lunch.

Normally for lunch you’d just sit in your room on your bed, finishing any work you had to finish and if you were hungry you’d either tough it out or you would’ve ordered something before your third class ended. Today, Kurt changed your plans.

“Hey, we ordered extra, we were hoping you would also sit with us today?” He asks, holding out a box of food that smelt amazing. So you nod, and follow behind him to the little area his friends were sitting. They all smiled up at you from their spots on the floor, and you joined silently. This dude just bribed you with food.

They all chat amongst themselves, and you simply poke at your food with your plastic fork, occasionally taking a small bite. You’ve never been the type of person who’s able to eat an entire meal in front of people you’ve never spoken to without feeling awkward.

They talked about class, and classwork, and talked a little about hanging out in Kurt's room tonight, but that was about it. Occasionally, there would be an inside joke that you didn’t understand, but you didn’t mind. You kept your eyes on your food, and that was it.

“So what about you?” Jean nudges you, making you look up to see everyone's eyes on you. What was the question? You ask yourself, panic rising in your chest.

“Yea, Y/N. Where would you be if you didn’t have to be here?” Alex, you’re a saviour.

“Uh, well…” You think about it for a moment, not sure where you’d wanna be. Definitely not with your family, you don’t have a home or caring family outside of the mansion. Hell you didn’t even have friends inside the mansion. “I don’t really know.”

“Oh come on. Paris? Mexico?” Scott- or Cyclops asks you.

“Oh, like where do I want to visit?”

“Or live.” Kurt cuts in, smiling at you.

“I would choose Russia.” You shrug, and they all stare at you.

“Imma be honest I was expecting the Maldives or some sort of beach.” Jean laughs a little. “But why Russia? There’s nothing there but snow and vodka.” You nod.

“It’s where I was born…”

“No way…” Alex scoffs. “You don’t look Russian. And you’ve only been here for what? Three years?”

“Almost.” You sigh a little. “About two years and eight months.”

“You literally never talk to anyone.” Jean says out loud, and you look up at her, your eyes daring her to continue. “How do you not have an accent?” Rude. Your eyes squint slightly.

“Okay, guys, next subject.” Kurt says, a little chuckle in the back of his throat. “Actually, what kind of pizzas are you guys wanting for tonight? I’m ordering this time.” He takes out his phone and opens a pizza ordering app.

“Can we get Hawaaian?”

“No, come on, meat lovers!”

“That's gross, why not just normal pepperoni?”

“Well I don’t like sauce.”

“I like alfredo.”

“Guys come on, just choose two. I’m getting two pizzas.”

“So get Hawaiian and meat lovers.”

“What about sauce?”

“Just get a sauce cup, or like five sauce cups? I love sauce.”

“Well I hate it.”

It was too much. Too much back and fourth, and you honestly couldn’t stand it. It was making your head whirr and your brain was pounding as they argue about something as simple as pizza. Then they start arguing about sodas and it’s just all this back and fourth. It was too much.

“Hey wait where are you going?” Alex is the first one to ask about your sudden leave as you get up from the ground and throw away your trash, but you don’t walk back towards them. “She’s not answering me.” He tells the rest of the group, as if it wasn’t already obvious.

You just don’t think you would’ve been able to muster one more word from their lips.

“Hey! Y/N, wait!” You hear Kurt's voice call after you and footsteps behind you, and your face heats up as he gets closer, your arms crossing as you try to console yourself. Then his fucking hand touching your shoulder and he turns you around, one hand on each of your shoulders as he tries to keep you steady, but it only freaks you the fuck out.

“Do NOT touch me!” You shout. The entire eating area goes quiet as each pair of eyes lands on you. Shit.

“Hey, uh… Calm down a little…”

“Do not tell me what to do…” You threaten, but it comes out as more of a warning.

“Well uh… you’re probably freaking everyone out with your hands right now…” What?

In your frustration, you hadn’t even realised you had pushed him off of you, his hands were up in defence, but his shirt had a burn hole in it that wasn’t there before.

Looking down at your hands, there was a red and blue glow emitting from your fingers all the way through your veins. You could only imagine how your eyes looked as you stared down at your hands in embarrassment. Oh, right. You can’t control your powers when you’re stressed, frustrated, sad, mad, happy. You always have to be just… neutral.

“Ms. Y/L/N!” Another voice calls and Professor Lehnsherr approaches you with a soft smile. “Come with me so you can cool down.” He tells you, gently placing his hand on your back to lead you out of the eating area before anything escalates.

“Alright.” He sighs, and closes your bedroom door behind you. “Want to tell me what happened back there?” You shake your head. It would’ve sounded pathetic. “That’s okay. Oh honey, don’t sit down.” He holds a hand out to grab your arm but doesn’t, knowing damned well he would burn himself if he touched you. “You’ll burn the sheets.” He reminds you, and you take a few steps away from the bed, but bring your hands up to your face to rub your temples, attempting with all of your effort to control your breathing. Got it, so personal questions and constant back and forth conversations stress you out. You tell yourself. “So… I think you should spend the rest of the day to yourself and-”

“No. No, I have to go to class, remember I said I can’t skip anymore just because I can’t fix myself.” You tell him, reminding him of the first time you freaked out and made the promise.

“Y/N, it’s not about fixing yourself, it’s about controlling your emotions.”

“Well everyone else is able to! Why can’t I?”

“Because everyone in this school associates themselves with others.” You hate to say it, but he was right. Everyone else is used to public stress, because they constantly have it.

“Well I still cannot and will not skip the rest of the day.”

“Fine then. Skip just this fourth period, then go to fifth period, but if you feel like you’re not up for it, then send me a text and I’ll send your substitute a text also so he knows you’re not coming.” You don’t say anything. “Sounds good?”

“Yea. Yes. Uh huh, that- yes… that sounds good.”

“Okay, I’ll let Hank know you’re not up for fourth period, then like I said.” He makes his way to the door and holds the handle. “Let me know if you need the entire rest of the day off. Okay?” You nod and give him an ‘mhm,’ before he finally leaves.

Okay what normally calms you down..? You wonder, looking around your room and heading towards your desk to search for the little paper you write those types of things on. There was painting your nails, colouring books, sitting in your dark closet because there’s no sounds in there, and then there was a nice shower or bath. Cold, shower or bath of course. You decide you should just do that.

You roll down the sleeves of the jacket that you’ve had on all day, and then unzip it and throw it off into your dirty laundry basket. The bell for lunch had just rung, so the sound of other students chatting in the halls made way into your room. How you wish the walls and doors were thicker. You wonder as you begin to slide off your leggings, also discarding them in your laundry basket before walking into your bathroom and turning on the faucet, letting the water run cold as you step into the tub with your hair up so you could just relax in the water.

As soon as you’re done, you wrap a towel around your body and step out, perfect timing as the fourth class ends and the bell rings throughout the school walls. Then there’s that annoying whirring sound again as you stand in front of your desk, going through the clothes you’d swore you would go through that morning.

After choosing a plain blue sweater and another pair of black leggings, along with your matching set of panties and a bra, you hear yet another clicking sound, the same you heard from last night. You don’t remember hearing it earlier, so you again assume it’s your neighbours, doing something in their room during the ten minute passing period. Annoying. But you wonder what they could possibly be doing with a camera that loud, and that often. It did only start yesterday, so you hoped it would bore them out eventually.

After what felt like a thousand more clicks, on top of getting fully dressed, you decide you’d be able to make it to class. Your nerves were cool, and you didn’t feel as frustrated as before.

So after about a minute with your palm lying on the door handle, you finally had the courage to open the door with about two minutes left to make it to your fifth period, meditation.

Walking back into the halls felt like you were a fox on a bunny farm. All eyes were on you, and as usual, everyone was whispering about you. The only difference between now and before was they didn’t even try to hide that they were talking about you. If you hadn’t been so used to this scene, you would’ve already freaked the fuck out. So instead, you easily and quickly make it to your first class, having enough of the staring eyes.

“Everyone brought their mat today like they were asked to on Friday?” Logan, also substituting for your fifth period.

Everyone takes their mats out of their bag, including you and everyone rolls it out on the floor in their assigned spot. Surprising considering there was a sub. Then again, it was Wolverine. You sit in your assigned spot as well, but a little further away from everyone. Not everyone had been there for the scene that had unfolded during lunch of course, some people were inside the cafeteria. But you knew that by now the word had spread inside and outside of the mansion.

“Today, we’re going to just relax.” His voice softens a little, becoming nearly soothing. “First I’m going to have you all do some stretches though, so will Jean please come to the front to lead the stretches?” He asks, watching as Jean stands with her mat and faces the entire class on the floor before beginning the stretches, the entire class of about thirty people this time copying her.

You watch as she moves to lie on her stomach, and you follow her movements slowly, placing your palms in front of you and pushing up to stretch, then you follow along all the rest of her simple stretches before she finishes and moves her mat back to her original spot.

“Okay, now here’s the video Xavier said to play.” A video on youtube comes onto the projector screen of an elderly woman sitting on a purple mat with her legs crossed, then she speaks into her camera, asking everyone to copy what she does, then the video goes silent for a moment before the sounds of waterfalls and chirping birds play, attempting to put the viewers mind at ease as everyone's eyes close, to apparently rid their eyes of distractions.

You’re ten minutes in. It’s actually peaceful. You tell yourself with your eyes closed, still sitting with your legs crossed on the floor and your hands on your knees.

“Here.” You hear a voice behind you, prompting you to open your eyes. “No, no. Close your eyes and face forward.” He tells you, and you do. He’s quiet enough so only you could hear him over the waterfall and birds. Then you feel his palm press gently on the middle of your back, causing you to straighten your posture as you involuntarily try to escape his touch. “I heard what happened. I didn’t expect you to show up to fifth.” He admits, letting his palm rest on your lower back, just above your ass, and you take a deep breath. “How’re you feeling now?”

“Fine.” You whisper back, matching his quiet tone so as not to interrupt anyones meditation.

“That’s good. I was worrying about you. I noticed you skipped the fourth period.” You hear him move next to you, and you open your eyes just enough so he doesn’t notice. Instead of kneeling, he was now crouching next to you on your right. His left hand moves to your left shoulder. “But I’m glad you’re alright. Just let me know if you ever need anything.” Emphasising “Anything,”  making it clear that he’d kick ass just for someone looking at you wrong.

You nod slightly, then in your mostly closed eyes, you see him move closer to you. Flinching as his left hand gently holds the side of your head, your lips parting just slightly as you feel his lips touch your temple. A gesture that was supposed to feel sweet, but everything in you was saying it was sinister. Of course, being you, you throw the red flag out of your head and settle on him just being a good friend. I mean he’s your professor. Surely it wouldn’t be more than that.

Right?

The meditation session ends and everyone rolls up their mats and are immediately glued back to their phones or talking to their friends obnoxiously. You also of course are guilty, turning on your phone to no notifications to reply to, as usual- Wait. I have a text? You open your phone to see the text with Kurt's name right next to it.

Kurt Wagner: I’m hoping you’re still coming tonight?

You: I don’t know… I’m sorry about what happened earlier.

Kurt Wagner: Hey it was an accident, and I’ve been meaning to throw that shirt away anyways.

You: Oh, well I hope it was just the shirt. I didn’t burn you right?

Kurt Wagner: Luckily no. You’re such a worry bug.

You: Sorry…

“Wait, where’s the pizza?” Alex is the first to notice as they all walk into the room, everyone eyes first landing on you sitting on Kurt's bed with your legs crossed.

“Well, turns out, Y/N doesn’t like pizza. So I got KFC, McDonalds, and Taco Bell.” Kurt explains, hopping off the bed and retrieving his TV remote. You didn’t even have a TV in your room. At least not anymore. “I know each of you likes at least one of these, so enjoy.” He tells them, turning back to see you snacking on a quesadilla.

“So what movie are we watching then?” Scott asks, grabbing a solid ten chicken pieces from the KFC bucket. “Have you guys pulled from the hat?”

“We have not.” He tells them, then disappears in his closet, reappearing a minute later with some fancy tophat that makes you smile a little. “Who wants to choose from the hat?”

“Make Y/N.”

“Yea, this is her first time, let her.”

“Just don’t let Scott choose, his hand is a magnet for Toy Story, and if I watch it again I’ll know the entire script by broken heart.”

“Okay, okay.” Kurt chuckles, holding the hat out in front of you and giving you an encouraging smile. “Lets let Y/N choose tonight then.” He says, and you angle your arm slightly to reach into the tophat and pull out the first piece of paper your fingers touch. “What did you get?”

They all stare at you as you open the little paper. “Finding Dory.” Your eyebrow quirks a little.

“Finally, we’ve been waiting for someone to choose that one.” Jean tells you and you roll the paper back up, handing it to Kurt and he puts it back in the hat then sets the hat on his desk.

“Alright, let's get this party started!”

Was the last thing anyone had said for over an hour, aside from Alex asking Jean if she was crying when baby Dory popped on the TV. So pretty much, the entire hang out was amazing so far. No complaints, no fighting, and best of all, you didn’t receive a single sidewards look.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket, drawing your attention from the movie and you turn the brightness on your phone down as if you’re in a movie theatre to check the notification. A text from Professor Lehnsherr.

Metal Head: Have you received my email? I’ve been worried.

You: Sorry I’ve been busy. I’m fine now though. My computer is in my room so I haven’t seen it.

Metal Head: Well when you get the chance, please check the attachments I’ve sent you asap.

You: Alright.

“Everything okay?” Kurt asks, crawling close to you as you begin to stand up from the floor.

“Yea, just Mr. Lehnsherr asked me to check my email asap, which also means now.”

“You’re probably the only person who doesn’t just call him Magneto.” He adds on. “Can I come with you? I’ve never been in your room.”

“It’s nothing special, but sure.” You both stand up, and you head for the door with him behind you. Opening the door and heading straight to your room.

As soon as you get inside and close the door behind Kurt, you open the laptop that’s sitting on your bed and you punch in the password to check your emails.

“It’s actually really… woodsy in here.” Kurt tells you, looking around your room in astonishment. “It’s funny how every student's room has a different vibe, yours smells like pine.” He sits next to you on the bed, the side of his thigh touching yours.

“He just sent me a bunch of attachments, he’s been really into my work on nanotech so whenever he has a question he emails them to me.” You shrug, typing back a response to his question saying ‘does nanotech make a sound?’

As you type out the response and finish sending it. Kurt speaks again. “What is that whirring sound?” He asks, looking down at you and you look up at him after closing your screen. Your faces uncomfortably close.

“I actually have no idea. It’s been happening since last night, I just assumed whoever's my neighbour got something that makes that sound or maybe the AC is acting up.” You shrug and he stands up, his pointy ears twitching slightly as he picks up your build-a-bear.

“Nobody is in that room… The student who was sleeping there left a few months ago.” He tells you and you slowly get off the bed. Approaching him as he holds the bear. “Y/N… Where did you get this?” You gently take the bear in your hands.

“From the mall… There’s a build-a-bear shop there.”

“The day you went with Professor Howlett?”

“Yes.” You squint your eyes in confusion. “Was this always there…?” You mumble.

“I don’t know, was it?” Kurt asks, looking down at the little bear's right eye which seemed to have a spec of a glowing red spot on it.

Some panic gets to you, setting deep in your stomach, making you want to vomit. Who would put a camera in your bear? You ask yourself, and Kurt verbally asks the same question. “I don’t know… I’m going to bring it to Professor Howlett though… He’s the one that helped me stuff it.” Kurt only nods, and you wrap the bear in a shirt before putting it on the shelf in your closet and closing the door, leaving the camera to watch the dark…

[aritsukemo]

Sick Days Chronicle | Pinky Promise | Shinobu Kocho

Summary: Sick days are the worst, but at least you get the pleasure of having your partner take time out of their otherwise busy schedule to take care of you! <3

Warnings: Nothing serious. Shinobu refers to you as 'dear' more than a few times. Also horrible and probably inaccurate medical descriptions ahead!

A/N: My first day at my first job was great despite me making so many mistakes! 😅 While I get used to my new schedule, please take this continuation of my sick day chronicles that I was finally able to finish!

Day One: Yuichiro Tokito | Day Two: Shinobu Kocho | Day Three: Muichiro Tokito | Day Four: Tanjiro Kamado | Day Five: Aoi Kanzaki

"Take this twice a day for the next week and you'll feel much better," Shinobu, your doctor—who you were lucky enough to also call your girlfriend—instructed. Her gentle voice echoing in your head as you slowly digested and picked apart every little word that left her pink, glossed lips because who knows when the next time any words from her will be directed specifically at you.

You watch her every little movement. From the way she backs away to the way her polished hands kick up her butterfly-patterned haori just a little so that when she sits back on the stool, she doesn't sit on it to the way she involuntarily tugs at it, straightening it out as her hands slowly slide down the varying colors until they reach her thighs and the way she lays her hands diagonally on each thigh. You take note of how perfectly positioned they are and how they aren't slanted inwards to the point that it'd look uncomfortable, but aren't slanted too outwards to where it'd look like they're falling off the sides of her thighs.

As always, Shinobu has even the small things like how she sits perfected—or maybe you were just imagining it so that you'd have an excuse to suck in every little thing about her appearance. Maybe that's proof of just how starved you were of her..

And maybe, this is more proof of it, "Can you help me out?" You lift the cup just a little for emphasis on what you meant, being careful of the leaf-colored liquid sloshing around inside the cup.

She blinks and you can tell she's caught off guard by your question by the way her lips making a small 'o' before she quickly recovers and asks, "Of course, but may I ask why you couldn't yourself?"

"My arms feel weak," You threw out as she stood to her feet again, the two strands that frame her face swaying as she does so. She steps closer and leans in. Her cool, smooth hands encasing yours for a moment before they swiftly move to the cup and retreat with it. She then moved the cup to your lips and ever so slowly tilted it just as you tilted your head back a little.

"Is that so? They weren't bothering you before now. I hope this isn't the case, but are you coming down with more symptoms?" She asks, her tone honey sweet, but dipped in just enough sour worry that it makes the question come off less like a neutral fret or more like warm concern.

She waits patiently as she always does with everything and watches as you slowly drink down the bitter medicine. Being mindful to keep it at a low slant so that you can take in comfortable amounts at a time. It's only when you finish that she hastily rips the cup away from your lips.

"No other symptoms, just feel a little weak.." You reassure. It wasn't entirely false. Whatever you caught has made you feel more tired than usual whenever you did something. That exhaustion just wasn't very prominent in your arms, but she didn't need to know that.

You watch her tilt her head to the side. Not much, but enough for her self-made bangs to tilt—the one on the right bending just a tad when it meets her chin.

"Hm, it may just be fatigue, but I'll keep it in mind regardless. Let me now immediately if the feeling worsens, alright?" And then your heart tightens when you hear the slight fuzzy noise of her socks sliding against the smooth flooring—a small, but clear indication that she's about to turn around. An even clearer indication that she's about to leave.

"In case it is just fatigue, I think you should rest—" "Wait!" She pauses, half of her body turned towards the door including her head. That said, at your rather desperate call, she immediately turns, allowing you to catch the sight of her slim, pointy eyelashes falling from initially being raised up from surprise for the second time today.

"What's wrong? Do you feel any pain? Sudden dizziness?" She asks. Her tone strangled with sudden urgency that you've only heard a few times in the past. It reminds you of those small times of peace you two would share and that suffocating feeling of undeserved annoyance that would cage your heart whenever Aoi or one of the triplets would run in shouting about a patient in dire need of her attention. It also reminds of that empty feeling that would occur afterwards when that irritation dissipates as you watch Shinobu immediately leave your side while using that same semi-stern tone drenched all over the questions she shot out in hurry as she tries to access the severity of the situation.

It reminds you of her position. Of her title as the best medically-specialized demon slayer in all of the Demon Slayer Corps. A painful reminder that follows the realization of how important her time is to everyone and how you just wasted it by spewing lies for the sake of spending even a few more seconds of time with her.

In the end, you sigh at the realization that's finally plagued your mind; you were being very immature right now—something you know Shinobu despises with all her being and would certainly scold you or worse for if she found out the truth.

"Nevermind, it's nothing," You say, your tone sounding more defeated than you would've liked it to.

"Go on," One of your supposedly weak arm raises without trouble, your hand flicking up as you wave her off, "I'm sure you have many patients who need your attention.."

"Dear," You freeze. Your throat seems to as well because the air inside of it catches, unable to escape it's gummy confines. It causes your face to tingle, or at least, that's what you'd like to think. It's too embarrassing to admit that your face is growing warm because she referred to you by a common pet name—that she refers to everyone in—in a softer tone of voice..

She calls you again, "Dear," and you feel her cool touch all over as she cups her smooth hands over your rough ones. You hesitate, still deciding whether to pull away or stay and revel in her touch when she decides for you by tightening her grip—not having the strength enough to hurt you, but her grip is still firm, preventing you from easily pulling away. Not that the thought even crossed your mind to begin with.

"Are you alright?" She asks, "While I do believe part of it has to do with you falling under the weather, I've noticed you've been acting odd. Is there something you want to tell me?"

Gods, the way she's looking at you right now. Like a mermaid witnessing humans for the first time as they dance under the moonlight together. Like a goddess walking hand in hand along the heavans and looking up at their beloved Aphrodite herself. Her look was one so genuine and delicate that something as small as a frown from you could tranquish it; a scarce, fleeting expression that's completely foreign in comparison to the usual masks she tends to wear.

..And she's willing to let a shameless liar like yourself see it. Not one of the other Hashira, not Aoi or the triplets, not even Kanao. It was an expression made only for you. It was proof that even with so little time spent with each other, her love for you remains unwavering.

And here you were, lying to such a face because of such a silly reason..

"I.. I'm..alright," You tell her, your eyes darting to look everywhere but her face, "..My arm is too.." You sigh. Are you really doing this?

"I..lied to you when I said my arms were hurting.." Your eyes scrunch and close, waiting for the inevitable scolding or harsh words that you may, understandably, receive for wasting her time, but it never comes. Instead, you hear a light hum from her before she answers you as calm as ever, "Well, I obviously knew that."

Your eyes shoot open, the shock giving you the courage to look at her face at last, "Huh?" Again, one would think she would follow up with at least a light scolding, but it seems the time apart has caused you to forget just who Shinobu Kocho is; a woman who, even when fuming to the point steam comes out of her ears, would never take it out on someone—especially not a patient.

"It was obvious that you were lying. The type of muscle fatigue you describe tends to show itself in the early stages of an illness," She explains, "Plus, your body and face gave you away whenever you slightly moved your arms. Just now too. When you moved them, you showed zero struggle or signs of discomfort."

"I- I see.." Time really does make the mind grow weary for you to think that you could fool her, especially about something in her field of expertise. Even so, you can't find yourself saying that you'd never pull something like this again if a situation like this one ever called for it. That said, you end up changing the sentence that formed in your hand immeidately after it formed in your head, saying something entire different instead..

"I'm sorry for trying to trick you," Your eyes trail down to your hands which were still safely encased in hers—a grip feeling akin to icebergs, and yet, you don't pull away. Not when a touch like this one comes as often as a demon who's repulsed by human flesh.

"I'm not mad, I simply want to know your reason for lying in the first place." She further reassures.

"I.." Your tongue stills in your mouth, embarrassment creeping up your skin in the form of your blood again as it burns your cheeks and causes them to tingle and—although you're praying it wasn't noticeable—change colors.

"I just wanted to spend time with you..that's all.." You couldn't look up at her at first, but maybe you should've because it would've probably explained the expression you're seeing now; pink lips twisted up just enough to be noticed, but not enough for it to seem like her usual grins. Her eyebrows had fallen, making her eyes seem as soft as the furry creatures she despises so much. And what takes the cake is the cherry blossom blush painting her expression. Blush. She's blushing. You've never seen her blush before, but gods do you wish that you had sooner! She looks nothing short of ethereal. Like an oil painting..or a white dove spirit.

"Dear.." She calls in a hushed tone, the sudden raspiness overcoming that petname—that has quickly become your favorite word to hear her refer to you as—before a small, courteous laughter is breathed out from her lips and she shakes her head, taking note of her dual-colored bangs swaying side-to-side once again.

Then suddenly, she pulls her hands away from yours, releasing you from the spell she had casted on you. It saddened you. If you had the choice, you'd stay hypnotized by her sugary words, her honey-syrup laughter, and be enveloped by her icicle fingers for all of eternity..

"Whether you believe me or not, I also missed you greatly but I've been so busy that even my free time is spent in the presence of everyone in need of my help.." She holds out her hand to you again, but this time, just her dainty pinky finger sticks out as she says, "So, how about this; when you get better, come find me and we can go somewhere far away or hide away somewhere here for a little while. Just the two of us. Pinky Promise."

Your eyes linger on her pinky, eyes widening for nth time today. For someone known for her maturity, this was..surprisingly childish of her to do. At the same time, the scene before you felt so right. Like watching a queen put on her crown that was stolen from her or watching a demon slayer move to the next step of their training after spending months practicing..

And so, without a sense of regret or shame or embarrassment, you brought your hand up, stuck out your pinky, and allowed her to wrap her smaller, slimmer, one around yours—smiling as you return the favor and curl your pinky around hers.

Dividers were made by me, pictures used are from Pinterest, post formatting is inspired by @xxsabitoxx

[slvt4dillon]

Chew Tobacco, Chew Tobacco, Chew Tobacco, Spit!

warnings!⚠️: substance use (chewing tobacco), mention of underage drinking and smoking, cussing, peer pressure, mention of throwing up

summary: Tex tries chewing tobacco at the hands of Johnny and he likes it (oneshot)

a/n: heyyyy, I hope yall enjoy this one because I had to do some research for it lol. The title popped in my head (it’s a line from “boys round here” by Blake Shelton) and I KNEW I had to write about it. Kinda wrote this strictly for the title….

word count: 1.1k

✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯

Tex and Johnny always took a smoke break during lunch. Every day, on the dot. Well, technically it was just Johnny’s smoke break, Tex didn’t smoke. Although he thought it looked cool, he was scared he would get in trouble so he was just there since he’s Johnny's best friend.

Today was different though, instead of being outside, Johnny was in the cafeteria. Tex saw him and looked at him with a suspicious look. “Takin’ a break from smokin’?” Tex asked, half teasingly and half curiously. “Cole said that if he catches me smokin’ again, he’s gonna whip my ass,” Johnny chuckled. “Well, what are you gonna do now? Just quit cold turkey?” Tex asked. “Nah, I got an alternative.” Johnny looked around before pulling a can of Grizzly out of his shirt pocket. “Damn Johnny, where the hell did you get that?” Tex asked curiously. “The same place I got my cigarettes from. I made friends with the corner store owner that’s on the other side of town and he lets me get them.” Johnny explained. He opened the can and the faint scent of the chew filled the air between them.

“Want a pinch? It’s on the house. Plus, wasn’t your birthday not too long ago?” “My birthday was six months ago,” Tex chuckled as he took a small pinch of the tobacco. He had never been one to get into trouble. He’d never smoked before and he didn’t get drunk for the first time until he was about 15. “And then you place it in between your gum and your lip,” Johnny instructs. Tex does as told and he ends up with a small lump in the front of his mouth. “Could use a little work,” Johnny comments. “It’s a little bitter, don’t ya think?” Tex says. “You just gotta get used to it.” Johnny replies. “Whatever you say..”

Tex shifts in his seat as he starts to feel a small buzz. It’s nothing big, getting drunk feels crazier to him. “This ain’t gonna make me do nothin crazy, is it?” Tex asked nervously. He couldn’t be caught under the influence at school, dad or mason would kill him! “Nah, you’ll just get a little buzz,” Johnny reassured him.

What Johnny didn’t tell him about is the nauseous feeling that would hit him in fifth period, where he sprinted to the bathroom, the buzz now gone. “Goddammit Johnny,” he muttered as he hurled.

…

A day or two later, Tex found himself sitting in his room craving that buzz again. “What has Johnny done to me?!” He wondered. He thinks about it for a minute before deciding that on his way to the ranch, he’ll stop by the corner store that Johnny goes to to get his fix, just this once.

He walks into the corner store, his heart beating fast. This place is on the other side of town, so nobody should see him that knows him. The older man at the counter greets him as he walks up. “Could I get a can of dip?” Tex asks softly. The man behind the counter chuckles. “Son, there’s all kinds of chew back here. Are you even old enough to buy it?” “Well, I’m a friend of Johnnys, so I was wondering if you could….” Tex trails off, not sure what to call it. “…set me up.” He decides. “You mean Johnny Collins?” The man asked. “Yessir,” Tex replies. Sometimes he gets nagged at by his friends for having such manners, but he can’t help it. “Alright kid,” the man grabs a specific can that looks just like the one Johnny had. “Your total is 5.97,” “For one can?” Tex asks. “Yeah son,” the man replies. Tex reluctantly forks over six dollars from his pocket and grabs the can.

Once out to his truck, Tex gets a pinch of the chewing tobacco and puts it in his lip, this time putting it more in the side of his mouth. Once he was all set, he stuck the can in his shirt pocket and headed for the ranch. This time, it felt like he was buzzed for longer and he was less nauseous.

He worked and worked on the ranch with the dip in his mouth until he couldn’t stand the sensation. He quickly scooped the pinch out of his mouth and threw it on the ground. That’s when he heard a vehicle pull up. It was Mason, who must have just gotten home. “Texas!” Mason hollered excitedly. Mason was the only one who got to call him that without getting hit. “Hey mace,” Tex said, hoping Mason didn’t see him spit the chew out. He had forgotten about the can in his pocket, he had a habit of doing that. “Say Tex, what’s that in your pocket?” Mason asked probingly.

Tex knew he had been caught. He decided that maybe if he played dumb, he’d get out of it. “Where?” He asks. “Right-” Mason pulls the can out of Tex’s open shirt pocket, “here.” “Oh, cmon mace, I was-” “don’t give me that “mace” shit right now Texas McCormick.” Mason sounded pissed, just like Tex knew he would be. Damn it to hell with his forgetfulness! Mason’s anger must have radiated onto Tex, because when he opened his mouth again, his voice was cold, a tone that shocked even himself. “I was holdin’ it for Johnny,” Tex protested. “Boy, I watched you spit that dip out on the ground, don’t lie to me!” Tex instinctively backed away as Mason yelled at him, thank god there was a scorching hot gate separating them, he remembered perfectly well what happened the one of the last times he and Mason fought. Mason sighed as Tex backed away. “Texas come back, I ain’t gonna hurt ya,” he sounded more hurt than anything, and Tex slowly reapproached the gate.

“If I catch you with this type of thing again, I’ll make it hurt,” Mason threatened. “Yes sir,” Tex said. He wasn’t sure why he was using such manners to his brother, just something about the way he talked he guessed. “I know you’re a little busy, I love you.” Mason said, the can still in his hand. “I love you too,” Tex said. As Mason was walking away, Tex hollered after him, “you ain't gonna tell pop, are you?” Mason shook his head and chuckled. And then, shockingly, he chucked the can at Tex, who did not catch it. Tex picked up the can and thanked Mason. “Well, you paid your money for it, so I figured it was right,” Mason smiled and got back in his vehicle and drove off.

[booklover41802]

a folk of the air/ cruel prince canon divergent fanfic where Taryn does kill Locke but Madoc finds out and as a condition for returning has Cardan swear 1. Pardons and rewards for his men, 2. To be named seneschal, 3. That Cardan marry one of his mortal daughters and make her his queen, 4. To pardon Taryn. Cardan agrees, and Cardan tells Taryn to get Jude because she is pardoned, EVERYONE assumes Cardan is marrying Taryn (He’s throwing a wedding for Jude though) and Madoc doesn’t mind as long as one of his daughters marries the high king because he loves both of them dearly and wants them to be treated as royalty

Thanks so much for the ask, lovely!

Taryn

Locke’s blood dripped from the side of Taryn’s jeweled letter opener, catching the light of the moon that could almost be considered beautiful. Was this how Jude often felt,Taryn wondered as she stood over her husband’s still cooling body. For a brief moment, she envied her twin’s ability to lie, scheme, and murder so easily and get away with it. Taryn had no idea how to dispose of Locke discreetly without alerting anyone to what she’d done.

If the folk were to learn that his wife–a human–had killed one of their own, there would only be further bloodshed and Taryn imagined it wouldn’t end well for herself. Or for Jude, who was situated all too close to the High King. Whispers and rumors would always follow her and Jude would never be able to escape the bloody trail Taryn had left behind.

Taryn crouched down to her knees, bloodied letter opener in hand as she brought her fingers close to her face, surely leaving streaks of blood. “What have I done,” she bemoaned to herself, choking back a sob.

It had been an accident. Taryn hadn’t meant to kill him, but when Locke came home drunk yet again, and started making comments that he could have done so much better and she should be lucky to live in his manor, she’d stopped hearing the world around her. She’d spied up the letter opener on her desk and suddenly all of the years she spent training under Madoc came back to her.

It was as if she heard Madoc’s voice whispering instructions on the best place to slash someone’s throat. And so she had. It was somehow satisfying that Locke had died knowing it was she who killed him as he gurgled on his own blood.

Trembling, Taryn rose to her feet and began to pace the length of the bedroom, unable to let go of the murder weapon. If a servant were to walk in and see the walls and their Lady decorated in blood, it wouldn’t take long for them to put two and two together. Taryn didn’t know if she could handle a trial where she would most definitely be found guilty.

Did the folk even have trials like the mortal world did? The thought stopped Taryn in her tracks. Maybe there would be time to slip away, to find Vivi-

A quiet knock sounded at the door. Taryn froze, the letter opener falling from her bloodied fingertips and landing soundlessly on the carpeted floors. Her eyes darted to the window, debating if she had the time to open the latch and leap through before she was caught.

Then, just as she took a step towards her freedom, Madoc’s low voice rumbled outside. “Taryn? Are you alright?” 

Taryn’s heart shot to her throat as the door handle jiggled as he tried to enter the locked room. It seemed so flimsy now, nothing more than a precaution to ease her mind than something that would truly protect her. If Madoc decided to use strength to break down the door, a simple lock wouldn’t stop him or any other faerie.

Panicked, Taryn kicked the letter opener underneath the bed out of sight and quickly threw on a robe, not sparing a glance to see if she had gotten blood on it. Wincing as she undid the lock, she prayed to whatever god might be listening that he was alone as she cracked open the door.

“Yes, I’m alright. Did the servants report some noise?” She asked in what she hoped was a casual tone and plastered a smile on her face for an added effect.

Suspicion laced Madoc’s face at the false trill of her voice and the falseness of her smile. He knew her tell. She smiled when she lied. Cursing inwardly, she dug her nails into the wood of the door to calm herself, hoping that he would buy her lie just this once.

“They did,” Madoc acknowledged with a slight tilt to his head. “I happened to be nearby and was alerted to raised voices.” His gaze dipped to her neck where she knew a bruise was blooming. “Did he do that to you?” he asked softly, but with the bite of a dagger. Unassuming yet cutting and dangerous.

Taryn tightened her grip on the door frame until her knuckles turned white to stop herself from trembling. A lump started to form in her throat as tears threatened to spill down her cheeks. Suddenly she felt as if she were a child once more and needed a parent to comfort her. Knowing if she spoke, her voice would betray how close she was to breaking, so she only nodded. This was far from the worst of what he’d done to her, but it was the worst she’d done to him. 

Madoc’s eyes flashed threateningly at the confirmation of how Locke had hurt her. It was only then that Taryn noticed he was wearing his cap he normally reserved for the battlefield that he used to dip into the blood of his enemies. Had he come here intending to kill Locke?

“Where is he?” Madoc growled, lifting a green-skinned hand to barge into the room.

Without giving herself a second guess what she was about to do, she quickly opened the door for him to enter. “He’s in here.”

Madoc stalked in, palming a dagger from a hidden pocket, murder roiling off him in waves. As soon as he stepped over the threshold, Taryn closed the door as fast as she could without alerting suspicion. When she turned around, she found Madoc grinning at her, all sharp teeth and amusement. 

Then to Taryn’s surprise, he began to laugh. There was an undertone of cruelty to it that made hairs on Taryn’s arms rise. This was The General who had felled many enemies on the battlefield and someone who would not hesitate to protect his children from outsiders. Except, Taryn had already done his job and despite everything, she felt pride bloom in her chest. She wasn’t the weak sister. She was Taryn Duarte and she had just killed her husband.

The thought made her straighten her spine as she remembered just who she was. Then, she wilted once more as the word trial seemed to echo around the room, as if amplifying her guilt.

“I’ll take care of him,” Madoc said, already picking up Locke’s stiff body from the ground.

“What about the blood?” It stained the carpets, her skin, her clothes… what was she to do? She might have been able to defend herself, but she knew nothing of how to take care of the aftermath.

Madoc placed a hand on her shoulder, squeezing once before jutting his chin towards the bathroom. “Take a bath, and relax. I will take care of it. Don’t worry, it will work out.”

Helplessness encompassed her as her shoulders slumped forward. She was a fool to think she could hold a candle to Jude. This wasn’t her. She never wanted this to happen. All she wanted was-

“What did you use to kill him?” Madoc asked, breaking her out of her thoughts.

The letter opener. Of course. She had half forgotten she’d kicked it underneath the bed in her panic. Taryn stumbled over to the bed and pulled it out, holding it at the jeweled end with two fingers, and held it as far away from her as she possibly could, like it was alive and could hurt her.

Madoc took the letter opener from her wordlessly, testing the weight of it in his palm. “Impressive. Jude gave you this for a wedding gift, didn’t she?” He chuckled, flipping the weapon into the air and catching it seamlessly.

Taryn nodded, still not trusting her words. 

“Well,” Madoc said, grunting under the weight of Locke as he hefted the faerie over his shoulders. “Clean yourself up. I promise, everything will work out.” There was a certain gleam in his eyes that Taryn knew he got when he was scheming. It was the same one Jude got.

She didn’t allow herself to think about just what he planned to do as she wandered to the bathroom, drawing herself a bath in a haze. All she had to do was trust in Madoc. If there was anything he knew, it was murder. She’d seen it first hand.

It would work out, she had to believe it would or she would fall apart.

Cardan

The requests of the court seemed as endless as Jude’s banishment. One after another they approached the throne with various pleas. And Cardan, already on his fifth glass of wine in the middle of the day, had a throbbing headache that wouldn’t go away no matter how much he drank.

“If it would please your majesty to consider my request to address the growing thefts in the Crooked Forest, I would be forever grateful,” a nameless courtier said, bowing and scraping on the floor as if it would earn him more favor in the eyes of the crown.

Fools, the lot of them. If only Jude were here, she was far more adept at managing the politics of the court than he was. But then again, he was the one who had banished her.

Cardan took another sip of his wine, ingesting far more than he probably should have at this hour, before nodding in a way he hoped appeared gracious. “Of course, of course. I will look into the matter personally,” he said, knowing it was just one request among hundreds. He felt his head throb with the amount of paperwork he had lying on his desk.

“Thank you, your majesty. You are as benevolent as your father,” the faerie exclaimed, bowing once more before exiting the throne room.

Then before the next person could approach, Madoc burst into the throne room, his steps confident as he strode forth towards the dais. The guards attempted to stop him, but he brushed past them as easily as one might get rid of an errant insect.

“Your majesty,” Madoc said, in a mocking tone, bowing just low enough to be considered respectful. “I have a delicate matter I’d like to discuss with you.”

Cardan waved a hand, giving him permission to speak, though he knew Madoc didn’t really need it. “By all means, let’s hear it.”

“Alone. I’d like to speak with you alone.”

Cardan barked out a laugh at his request. “Do you think I am a fool? Why would I ever be in a room alone with you?”

Madoc dared a step closer, hands placed far too casually in his pockets for Cardan’s liking. “I think you’ll want to hear this. It concerns my daughters.”

Setting aside his wine, Cardan signaled for the guards to come forward. “Strip him of weapons. Find anything with a remotely sharp end. I do not trust you nor will I tolerate weapons in our meeting.” He turned his focus to the line of folk still waiting for their requests to be heard. “We are adjourned for today, but please leave a written note and I will see to it as soon as I am able.”

Grumbling, the crowd dispersed with more than a few of them throwing curious glances at Madoc. It was no secret of the bad blood between the two of them and the folk loved nothing more than to gossip about the court. 

The guards began their search for any weapons that might be hidden somewhere on Madoc. He was promptly stripped of his cloak and more than a few daggers clattered to the floor. Madoc only waited patiently as he was further disarmed until there was nothing he could use to harm Cardan, save his hands.

As an extra precaution, Cardan created a magical barrier in between the two of them.

With the guards departure, the closing of the doors felt like a death sentence. But not for Madoc. For Cardan.

“Well,” Cardan began, opting for a lazy tone as he crossed one leg over another, “What was so urgent you needed to speak to your High King alone?”

“Locke is dead,” Madoc stated simply.

“Dead?”

“I’m sure you’re familiar with the definition, your majesty. Do I need to repeat myself?”

Cardan tightened his jaw, refusing to rise to the bait Madoc dangled before him like a bottle of wine on a hook. “No, I quite understand what you’ve said, what I do want to know is how. Who killed him?”

A smile played at the corners of Madoc’s mouth. There was something he wanted and he was waiting for the right moment to declare it. Cardan only hoped this information wouldn’t cost him more than it already had.

“It was Taryn, your majesty,” he said it in almost a taunting way, like he knew he was only giving Cardan just enough information to satisfy him, but not enough to keep him from asking more. It was irritating.

Cardan sighed, and rested his head against the back of the throne, tapping his fingers against the sides. “Why don’t you just come out and say what it is you want? You’ve just admitted Taryn’s guilt and role in the murder of the Master of Revels to the very person who’s meant to carry out the judgment. There must be a reason for doing so,” he said in a tired voice. The charade he put up in front of the court was exhausting. He didn’t need Madoc coming in here and declaring that the sister of the girl he loved had just killed his childhood friend.

He needed another drink.

“How astute you are, your majesty.” Madoc smiled, no longer trying to conceal the feral bite in his voice. “First, I want pardons and rewards for my men. Second, I want to be named Seneschal. Third, I want you to pardon Taryn. And lastly,” he paused, smirking, as if he knew this condition would shatter him, “I want you to marry one of my daughters and make them your queen.”

Cardan nearly spit out his wine. Marry one of the Duarte sisters? He fought against the urge to laugh in his face and tell him that he was already married to Jude. And yet…

“Why would I agree to these terms?” Cardan knew he had to pace himself and couldn’t agree readily just because Madoc dangled one of his daughters in front of him. Madoc didn’t need to know of his secret marriage just yet.

Madoc’s eyes drifted to the crown atop Cardan’s head. “Because if you don’t, I will never stop challenging your right to rule and make sure you are always at war. Elfhame and its citizens will be decimated and live in poverty. Is that the kind of rule you want for yourself?”

He tightened his hands on the edges of the throne. “I could always have you arrested and locked in the Tower of Forgetting.”

“Are you willing to bet your reign on the loyalty of your soldiers?”

Cardan opened his mouth to boast that few remained steadfast to the former General, but found he couldn’t. There was no way to be certain and after the fiasco with The Ghost, trust was in short supply with the guards.

“Fine. I agree to your terms.”

Madoc’s smile was comparable to an adder. It was quick, sharp-tongued, and Cardan knew if he got too close, he’d be bitten. “Excellent. I’ll have the paperwork drawn up this afternoon.”

Taryn

When the letter arrived from the palace, Taryn assumed it was for her to be summoned to her trial. To her surprise, Cardan had written to her in his sharp scrawl to retrieve Jude from the mortal world. It seemed there was to be a pardon and a wedding and apparently, Taryn was the only one who could find her sister.

Taryn flopped onto her bed, exhausted from crying. She knew she shouldn’t mourn Locke after all he’d done to her and her sister. Yet in spite of it all, she had loved him, and had wanted to believe in happily ever after and that she was the hero of the story. But in the end, she was nothing more than a human who had been at the whims of a faerie and this was no fairytale.

The one good thing was that Madoc was very good at hiding bodies and obscuring a crime scene. When the servants found her, hours later, there was a bloodied footprint in the windowsill, as if indicating the murderer had fled. Some had thrown suspicious glances at Taryn after the shouting and Madoc’s arrival, but none could prove it. The rumor spread throughout the manor of his death, but her name was not tied to his death. She was nothing more than a poor widow who had found his body.

It was a relief to know that she could breathe knowing that she wasn’t going to be thrown in the Tower of Forgetting or killed for Locke’s death.

And yet, now she had to find Jude, which was almost as frightening. Resigning herself to her fate, Taryn peeled herself off the bed, and began to dress for the mortal world. Just before she left, she made sure to throw Cardan’s letter in the fire to erase all trace of their interaction.

Then, a few hours later, she hovered on the steps of the building where Jude, Vivi, and Oak were living, anxiously staring up at the door, as if hoping it would magically open. Unconsciously her fingers curled toward her stomach, where her and Locke’s child grew. She had told no one yet, and Locke hadn’t even known before she sliced open his throat.

Steeling herself for what was to come, Taryn gathered her skirts and knocked on the door.

Jude

Upon opening the door to her apartment with Heather behind her, Jude wanted nothing more than to lie on her bed and sleep away the pain from her fight with Grima Mog. What she hadn’t expected upon opening the door was Taryn chatting quietly with Vivi, the latter of whom listened intently.

“What are you doing here,” Jude asked sharply, letting the door shut behind her louder than she probably should have.

Heather flinched both at the sound and at seeing Vivi again. “I-I can come back later,” Heather said, already backing up, fumbling with her hand towards the door knob.

“No, wait, we can talk in my room,” Vivi offered, desperate to get Heather to stay.

Heather nodded, her cheeks flushing red as she ducked her head and headed to Vivi’s room. Alone with Taryn, she felt like she could hear everything more acutely. The tick of the clock on the wall, a dog barking next door, and the downstairs neighbors arguing again.

“Well,” Jude said flatly, “What did you come all the way here to say?”

Taryn took a deep breath, her fingers fidgeting with a piece of fabric on her dress. “I killed Locke. And I’m pregnant with his child.”

Jude laughed bitterly. “After all the years you spent telling me to keep my head down and disapproving of what I did, you killed your husband? How times change, sister. What brought about his death?”

It wasn’t as if Jude would mourn Locke after all he’d done to hurt her and her sister, but Taryn had never approved of what Jude did and for her now to do something so reckless without considering the cost, it was laughable. It was ironic, really.

“He came home drunk and said ‘All the story had gone out of me,’ whatever that means and I had enough of him and his antics so I killed him. With the letter opener you gave me on my wedding night no less,” Taryn said, crossing her arms tightly over her chest as if it would stop her from breaking. “And… Madoc took care of the body and created a cover story for me.”

Jude blinked at her in disbelief. Madoc helped her hide Locke’s body? He’d never have done something like that for her, but for Taryn, the good, quiet sister, he didn’t hesitate to help her out of a tricky situation. She fought against the burning resentment that threatened to flare up. It wasn’t Taryn’s fault that Madoc and Oriana had treated them differently.

“And what did the High King say? And what do you plan to do with your child?” Jude asked far too casually. She knew she shouldn’t care about Cardan after what he did, but she desperately wanted to hear any news from Faerie.

A half smile played at the corner of Taryn’s mouth. “Actually, he said that your banishment has been lifted and that he, at the request of Madoc, has agreed to marry one of us. And as for the child, well, I’ll raise them on my own without Locke.” Taryn’s fingers curled tighter against her chest, her nails biting into the fabric. It was one of her tells that she was uncomfortable. It was a relief to know that Taryn didn’t want any part of this and she was as helpless as Jude.

Jude’s eyes darted over to the bedroom where she kept Cardan’s ruby ring, the very same ring he’d given to her on their wedding night. Even though she knew Taryn wanted no part in Madoc’s machinations, there was no telling what he’d do if Cardan didn’t pick the right sister. Jude was far too volatile and unpredictable to Madoc, she knew. She was far too much like him.

“Okay, so when do we leave?” Jude loosed a breath, trying to calm the roiling emotions inside of her. It felt surreal that she was finally going back to Faerie.

Taryn uncrossed her arms, her gaze dropping to the floor. It wasn’t like Taryn to be meek with Jude like this, but she supposed that killing one’s husband must do that to a person. “Now,” Taryn whispered. “We need to go back now.”

Jude stamped down on the excitement she felt and cleared her throat. “Let me say goodbye to Vivi and check in on how she and Heather are doing before we head out.”

“Don’t you need to pack?” Taryn asked hesitantly, halting Jude in her tracks.

Pack… right, she should do that too. She’d gotten too caught up in the thrill of returning that she’d forgotten she needed to gather her belongings together. “Yes, I suppose I will.”

Cardan

Trying to plan a wedding was more work than Cardan thought it was going to be. He didn’t really care what color the flowers or the tablecloth were going to be, but everyone wanted him to have an opinion. It didn’t help matters that the rumor of the court was that Cardan was going to marry Taryn, the poor widow of the Master of Revels. Or that Madoc now strutted about the palace as if he owned it.

Sometimes, Cardan caught Madoc staring at his crown for far longer than was comfortable. Even with their agreement, he knew that The General still did not believe Cardan was the rightful ruler. It didn’t matter that he was one of two Greenbriars left and the latter was far too young to rule. All that Madoc cared about was that he secured his tie to the throne through one of his adopted daughters. It seemed as if it wasn’t enough for Madoc to be the current seneschal or for his men to enjoy the pleasures of court with rewards heaped on top of it.

Cardan sighed as yet another servant approached him with yet another sheet of cloth, asking if off-white or ivory would be better for the drapes. “Off-white,” he answered half-heartedly, not truly paying attention as he looked out the window, hoping to see the moment that Jude returned.

When he’d announced he’d lifted Jude’s banishment, the court did not take it well and many had tried to persuade him otherwise. If only they knew he and Jude were already married.

Each day that passed without her by his side felt as if he had a wound in his side that hadn’t been properly stitched and bled through constantly. His bleeding heart was hers and had been from the moment he first laid eyes on her.

If only she would return. Cardan tapped his fingers absentmindedly against his throne, pretending not to hear as another servant asked him about colors.

Then, to his delight, Jude and Taryn entered the throne room.

Jude

Arriving back to the court after a month away was both terrifying and exhilarating as she was once more surrounded with the ethereal beauty of the fae. Whispers followed her as she and Taryn entered the throne room, each with their backs straightened and heads held high even as the whispers threatened to puncture their skin. Still, both of them ignored the snide comments, the jeers, and the implication that Taryn was no victim, but a murderer.

For a moment, Taryn’s hands began to shake before Jude reached over to hold her hand amidst the chaos. No longer would they be separated by Faerie. Together, they would face the storm. And Jude would accept her fate if Cardan chose Taryn over her.

Cardan watched both of them with barely concealed amusement as he swirled his wine from his perch on the throne. His tail was hidden away so Jude wasn’t sure what his true emotions were. Was he pleased at her return? Then, for one terrible moment, Jude wondered if it was all a scheme for her return, only for her to be arrested by the guards.

To her relief, Cardan only stood, setting aside his glass and began to walk towards them with open arms, betraying no sign of hidden intent. “I am so pleased both of my brides could make it to our wedding.” He dropped to his knees and kissed both of their hands, almost seeming to linger longer with Jude as he eyed the ruby ring on her finger. His ring. But perhaps that was just her imagination running away with her.

“We are ever gracious to you, your majesty,” Taryn murmured, avoiding eye contact as she lifted her skirts and gave a deep curtsey. 

Jude followed suit, though she didn’t give Cardan the honeyed words of social etiquette. No, Cardan didn’t deserve it after what he’d done. Instead, she grinned sharply at him, giving him a mocking bow. “I would say it’s a pleasure to see you again, but that would be a lie.”

Gasps shot through the crowd at the boldness of Jude, a mere mortal, showing disrespect to the High King. Cardan only took her chin in between his fingers and lifted it. “How defiant you are to the crown. I did miss our sparring sessions, Jude,” Cardan said, with a voice that could almost be considered… reverent. 

Jude furrowed her brows in confusion. She thought him cruel and cold, and yet here he was, telling her he missed her. Unwillingly she took a step back, half-forgetting where she was until Taryn broke through her racing thoughts.

“Your majesty,” she said, drawing Cardan’s gaze back to her, “You claimed in your letter you were to choose one of us to be your bride. Who is it?”

Jude was glad Taryn had asked. Her own skills of managing the court had grown soft in her time away. 

The court’s whispers made her spine stiffen. “Obviously, he’ll choose Taryn. Why would he choose the other one? She’s rather unsightly, don’t you think?” The voices were purposely loud enough for her to hear.

Even though Jude didn’t particularly care what they thought of her, it didn’t stop the squeeze of her heart that Cardan might choose her sister. To her surprise, Cardan stepped closer to her and took one of her hands in his.

“Jude is my choice. Jude will be my bride and the next Queen of Elfhame.”

Instantly, murmurs of dissent snaked through the crowd. No one had expected him to choose her, especially so soon after returning from her banishment. But to Jude, it meant everything. Taryn offered a quick curtsey before disappearing into the throng of faeries, all of them clamoring for answers.

“Why?” Jude asked softly enough she wasn’t sure Cardan would hear her.

“Do I need more of a reason other than I love you?”

The air was sucked out of Jude’s throat at Cardan’s proclamation. “You… love me?”

In answer, Cardan swept his arms behind her and pulled her chest to his. “Yes, my darling God, I love you more than there are stars in the sky. Every day you were away in the mortal world, I only thought of you. It has always been you.” To her even greater surprise, Cardan kissed her on the lips, one hand tangling in her hair as if had waited eons to do so.

And Jude couldn’t quite believe that the High King of Elfhame loved her. More than that, Cardan Greenbriar, the boy of her youth loved her. Jude didn’t hold herself back this time as she kissed him, his lips as sweet as cherry wine.

When they pulled back, she whispered to him, “I love you too, my darling king.”

[randomkduck]

catdow revival au chapter 5: Oh… Good for her.

Sorry for how long it took to release this chapter. Wound up sick and then life hit me with a brick (hey that rhymes!). Anyways! Here it is! And the rest of the fic has been finished, now it's just about posting it. Which might be over the course of a few days just so that I can remember to actually do it.

Anyways, please enjoy!

Shadow looked around the house. Boredom begging to be somehow released.

Red and Green were out of the house, likely for a few days. Vio was cooped up in his room with the door only a crack open and his nose buried deep in a book.

Blue was around. But he was a kind of typhoon of activity. Switching from making food to cleaning things around the house to reading to making food again to exercising. Never giving one thing more than 20 minutes of focus.

Shadow watched him for awhile, and then thought it would be fun to try and keep up with him.

~~~~~~

I started when he moved back to his corner. There was a yoga mat with various instructions on it for how to do different stretches, and various doodads around that seemed to be for muscle??? Maybe??? Blue made his way over, and I followed. 

He did a stretch, I did my best to mimic it while still a cat. He lifted one of the doodads, I lifted a book or something else heavy and within reach.

He didn’t really notice at first. Having not paid a single ounce of attention to me for almost the whole day.

He’d reach down and pat my side whenever I walked in front of him, but that was about it.

I didn’t really know what to do while he finished whatever cooking/baking (I don’t really know the difference) project so I just circled for a little while.

He seemed to notice that (and the intense eye contact I made) but didn’t comment on it beyond a grumble of “weird ass cat” and a soft smile.

It was when he went back to cleaning that the problems arose.

Oh mercy be upon the soul who decides to reveal all the dust under the chairs by accidentally becoming a feather duster.

I trotted up to Blue, feeling extremely grumpy because I knew there was no way I was cleaning this up by licking it. No way. I refused before I’ll refuse again!

At least until Blue tried to get me in the bath. 

Which, for 1: No. For 2: No . And for 3: NO !!

Are you kidding? Getting me all soaked and soapy and having to air dry like some rat crawling out of a sewer? No thanks. I’m good.

“Come on! I need to get you cleaned up before I can clean up the dust and dirt everywhere else! I will not stand to have you running around when you're all dirty.. And… UGH!!!” I managed to jump out of his hands, running from the room and up into Vio’s room. Where I hid under his bed.

Vio had a lot of weird stuff under there. Lots of books that I’m pretty sure he had room for on the shelves. Boxes of papers and notebooks and notes. Other boxes with other stuff I wasn’t sure I actually wanted to know about.

Okay, hiding under Vio’s bed was scarier than the bath by a long shot.

Vio seemed to agree with me, because he dragged me out from under the bed with a look of pure horror on his face.

“Blue! What are you doing to the cat??” He asked, sounding a little tight, like he had been caught doing something he wasn't supposed to.

What the fuck does he have under his bed????

Blue at least looked apologetic as he lifted me out of Vio's grasp, He’s trying to give me a bath, that’s what! “rrrrrrowww.” He gave me a pointed look, I gave him a grumpy one back.

“Sorry! I was trying to give him a bath!” Blue apologized, an awkward smile on his face as he started to pet me.

“Maybe find a different way to do that then? Because I really don’t want him in my room.” Vio at this point had gone back to his usual calm, cool demeanour. Which was annoying. Be real damnit!

“Why? What’s in your room that you don’t want him getting into?” Blue asked bluntly, narrowing his eyes.

Vio froze up, and then glanced at his bed, not answering. 

Alright, setting that aside in my head as another thing for later.

“Vio-” Blue tried to ask again, looking about as suspicious as I felt.

“It’s nothing, okay? Green had it in his had to teach the little rat how to steal my stuff, I really don’t want him making off with my notes or research!” Vio spat out, like he had to get the excuse out before Blue could say anything.

Blue didn’t look impressed. “The research that keeps you cooped up in here more days than it doesn’t? The research that looks a heck of a lot like messing around with shit you shouldn’t be?” Blue accused, then shook his head. “You know what, have fun with that. Just make sure you’re room is clean, I’m deep cleaning the house today.” He ordered, carrying me out of the room. 

“Stupid jerk. I wouldn’t want poor Shadow in there anyways, he would just collect more dust and dirt and bacteria not even known by science in there!” Blue grumbled under his breath, bringing me back into the bathroom.

I was too busy thinking about how I was gonna break in there again to struggle.

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

The rest of Shadow’s day was spent with Blue. Who had stopped being a tornado of doing stuff, and had sat down to read a book.

Shocking turn of events, I know.

At one point he got this frustrated look on his face and set the book down hard beside him. Thankfully on the opposite side of him than Shadow had been snuggled up to.

He folded his arms, staring straight ahead in annoyance.

“Row?” Shadow looked up at him.

Blue glanced down at him. “I don’t need to explain myself to a cat.” He said.

“Mrrrp.” fine, Shadow set his head back down on his pause. Ears perking up as Blue decided he did need to explain himself to a cat.

“The main character is just… ugh??? She just makes me wanna-!” Blue gripped at the air like he could strangle this imaginary character if he believed hard enough.

“In book one, she wasn’t so bad. It was like reading my own thoughts on a page and the only reason I even continued through the book, and she got the cool ass reward for her good deeds with getting to actually have a more feminine- oh uh, she was born male but is a girl -not completely removing her being born male but she still got- and now in the sequel??? It’s like the author forgot everything about her character! He wrote her as being this baddass nuanced woman, and the moment she transitions fully she’s like… half the character she was before and-!” Blue slapped his hands over his forehead and dragged them down.

He nodded, not getting any of what he was saying but still wanting to be supportive.

“I miss the character who gave me my awakening, where did she go?” Blue grumbled.

Shadow paused. Blinking.

Wait what.

“You wouldn’t tell anyone would you? I’m not ready for them to know.” Blue grinned, knowing full well that Shadow couldn’t tell anyone shit.

BLUE’S A GIRL???? Shadow stared dumbly at him… her???

Blue just set, him down and went back to petting him. Seemingly not noticing the poor cat's brain frying.

He shook his head, causing her to flinch.

Blue’s a girl… good for her.

[betweenthings2]

In honor of Glastonbury, here’s the Antichrist prompt =)

Matty settles in the chair, crossing his ankles and unbuttoning his shirt to show the spot just below his collarbone that they'd agreed was the right spot, just below his left collarbone. They'd gone back and forth about it, but it'll be obvious there and obvious is the goal. George stands himself right next to the chair and pushes Matty's shirt off his shoulder a bit farther, revealing a little bit more skin. Matty's pretty sure it's a selfish action, but he doesn't protest. He likes George's attention. George can do whatever he wants to Matty.

The studio is a tiny little thing, hidden away in a basement, but it's clean and well lit with a faint, hospital-esque scent of disinfectant in the air and an autoclave against one wall. Matty has a sneaking suspicion that the studio isn't an entirely legal operation and it's reinforced by the cash folded into George's. Legal or not, though, it's clean and the artist has an impressive portfolio so Matty feels about as comfortable as he can given the givens.

The artist shows them both the tool he's crafted, thin steel neatly shaped into George's initials. It's not very big, but when the artist holds it up to the spot just below Matty's collarbone, it seems a little bit bigger than he'd originally thought. He's not about to change his mind, but he can't help that animal instinct that tells him that he shouldn't sit here and let someone burn George's initials into his skin. He pushes that down and watches as the artist finishes getting things ready.

"Still good?" George asks, squeezing Matty's bare shoulder.

Matty nods. "Yeah. Just realized this is gonna hurt."

George chuckles. "You can change your mind," he says quietly. "No one's gonna be upset."

Matty shakes his head. "No. We've been planning this for ages and talkin' 'bout it for way longer. 'm not changing my mind now."

"You know I love you?" George asks, teasing just a bit.

"Mm-hm," Matty answers, nodding. He softens and adds, "Love you, too."

George runs his thumb over Matty's collarbone, then takes his hand from Matty's shoulder all together and steps back to the artist can have space to work.

The artist disinfects Matty's skin first, then outlines the exact spot Matty and George had decided on in surgical pen. He sits back, giving the pen and disinfectant a moment to dry, and says, "Alright, it won't take more than a couple seconds, but it'll hurt like a son of a bitch and you have to stay still."

Matty nods.

The artist considers or a moment, then directs George to put a hand on Matty's shoulder to keep him still. George's hand is warm and firm against Matty's shoulder and he relaxes into it as the artist goes to get the tool. It's red hot and Matty can't help the jolt in his stomach when he sees it, the animal urge to get away, but George's hold gets a little firmer and Matty settles into the hold again. He takes a breath and looks away when the artist brings the tool close. He can feel the heat radiating off it.

"On three," the artist says.

Matty gives a small nod.

"One, two-" and then it's against Matty's skin.

All he feels is heat and George's hand keeping him still.

Then it's over.

And, oh, Matty realizes that it hurts. God, it hurts.

The artist lays cool, wet gauze over the new burn after a moment and Matty lets out a breath. That feels better, takes some of the heat and pain away, he thinks. As the initial pain begins to dissipate, Matty feels oddly giddy and he shifts to grin at George.

George returns a smile and asks, "Yeah?"

Matty nods. "Yeah."

Matty ends up sitting there for a long while as the artist changes out the gauze over the burn a couple times then bandages it. He also gives a laundry list of instructions that George writes down before he pays the artist and they leave. There's still a dull burning sensation in his skin as Matty gets to his feet and climbs the stairs back up to the street, but he can't help enjoying it. He belongs to George. He is completely and entirely George's. That's good, he thinks, that's what he wants. He wants it to be obvious that he belongs somewhere, with someone, maybe to someone, and who better than George? Who could Matty love more than George? Who could love Matty more than George?

Matty thinks of his own initials, inked into the skin of George's hip, exactly at the point where Matty likes to rest his head when George tells him to kneel, his own claim laid on George. It's certainly not as obvious as the one George has just laid on Matty, but it's a claim all the same. He thinks too of the little heart he'd drawn on a note he'd left for George ages ago now inked onto the inside of George's wrist, exactly at the point one might feel for a pulse. That's a claim, too, Matty knows.

[colonelpancakes]

Watching the dragon prince season six episode four: The Starscraper. Under the cut as usual.

I love Callum but how is he not frozen solid. Those fingerless gloves may be stylish but they are NOT insulating. Give my boy a coat.

Ooh that’s a beautiful building. It does look a tad like a Minecraft beacon but, it's a very pretty Minecraft beacon

Callum, why would you just stick your hand in? For all you know it’s like a forcefield or something and it zaps you!

Okay, my question is what is the benefit of an elevator partially activating once you’ve read half the runes? That seems like a real safety hazard, like that seems like a magic bug that needs to be fixed.

Woah, wait a minute! Interesting, some of the Celestial Elves seem to have wings that aren’t bird wings. That one in the back looks like they have bug wings. Can that happen with skywing elves? I guess bugs are also flying creatures that inhabit the sky so that would make sense. Hmm… I wonder if you can get Mage Wing bug wings…

Aww. The leaflynx kitten is adorable but also the music is giving major flashbacks to the baby deer at the end of season two. Claudia. Claudia don’t you dare.

Also, glowing butterfly motif!

CLAUDIA NO.

Okay good. It seemed like her hand was almost acting out of her control, I wonder if this much dark magic is starting to like, impact her reflexes? Like she instinctively reaches for things even if she doesn’t consciously want to? Or maybe she’s just snapping herself out of it who knows.

“Are you feeling alright?” “No, I’m not. I’m so messed up, Terry. I’ve been stuck, just staring, for over an hour now.” Oughhh Claudia, honey. Its good that she’s at least able to admit she’s not okay, that’s a good start.

Oh, hey is Claudia starting to lean away from dark magic? Or, like, recognize that it’s not a good thing? That’s interesting, previously she’s been very adamant that dark magic is a good and useful invention, but now she seems to be realizing the negative effects it’s had on her? …Claudia redemption arc? 👀

Skjslkajfdkl that is the exact same face that she made at Zym when she first met him. Some things never change.

I love the little pose Callum does when he’s introducing him and Rayla, he’s so dorky I love him.

Oh my God that escalated quickly. Not a friendly lot got it.

No! Gosh dangit pearl stop rolling around!

CLAUDIA REDEMPTION ARC?! Let’s GO! YES GIRL! SELF-IMPROVEMENT!

I find it interesting how after losing her dad, Claudia turns to Terry, her only present loved one, for instruction. She needs someone to tell her what to do, she needs someone to do things FOR. She went from following her dad's orders to working to save his life and now she doesn't have him to give her direction, she looks to Terry. When was the last time she did something for herself without someone's instructions?

“Only you can decide the path you’re going to walk. You won’t be alone. I’ll clear out the thorny brambles if I see them, I’ll hold your hand as we trudge through wet, mucky leaves. But… you have to choose the way.” I love Terry so much he’s such a sweetheart. He clearly loves Claudia so much and he’s willing to stick with her through everything and anything, whatever happens.

Claudia... Again, it's interesting, how, because she doesn’t know what she wants for herself, she defaults back to finding what her dad wants, thinking that if she looks at him, she’ll find some clarity and she’ll suddenly know what to do. She doesn't know what to do without her family because she's been doing things for them for her whole life.

Aww. Okay, the leaflynx kitten is adorable but. Was I the only one alarmed by how big it is? Something about the perspective in earlier shots made me think it was a lot smaller somehow.

Also, I love the butterfly landing in Claudia's hair in the previous shot.

No, I think Callum has a point here. They did just drop you from the top of the tower.

Oh, hey! Kosmo has vitiligo! That’s cool, yay representation!

Also, I haven’t mentioned it yet but I love Sneezle’s hanging out in Callum’s scarf it’s so cute.

I love Sol Regem’s design he’s so big and menacing. Plus the lighting in this location is so beautiful, the way it illuminates him from behind like a dusky backlight is *mwah*

Sooo, what are we thinking Sunseeds smell like? ‘Cause personally, I’m thinking freshly popped popcorn.

Karim, man, he literally told you that his sight was unrelated to his lack of hope. I don’t know how you are surprised by this.

Sksjlfakj poor Rayla.

Ohh wow. This episode is really going off with the gorgeous scenery and lighting. The Starlooms are so beautiful and I love the name "starweaver spider".

Oh! So that’s what the bug wings are! That’s really cool and such neat worldbuilding.

Hey! It's the intro galaxy!

Okay, that sounds cool in theory but I feel like in practice being Timeblind would kinda suck. I feel like that would just be like. Too much information at any given time it’d be hard to make connections with other people or like, enjoy day to day life.

Continued in reblogs as per usual!

[galebrainrot2024]

Dekarios the Divine Part III

Summary: Gale pulls at the threads of time to see you. Gender neutral 'you,' some angst, pining, parallel universe God Gale lore.

Ao3| Part 2 | Master List

In the beginning, Dekarios ascended to the Outer Planes to his realm - since he was not claiming the realm of another there was no reason to. He knew one day he would usurp Mystra, but that time was yet to come. It was not often anyone, even Gods, were permitted to be in the presence of Ao. Ao meddled as little as they were able. 

Their overlord intervened in rare events: should two Gods share the same repertoire, should Gods choose to exert undue influence on the mortal plane, attempt to expand their power, or disrespect their duties. He had broken no contracts yet. 

Well. There was not necessarily a rule regarding cross-reality mingling, anyway. Was Ao aware of such a possibility even? He wondered if a parallel God of himself existed somewhere or if in every other iteration he stayed mortal. 

As far as Dekarios knew, it would take millennia for the decision to be cemented regarding his Godhood and whether or not he had captured the Divine Spark. Killing mortals was not looked upon kindly and most were subject to re-experiencing mortality, among other punishments. It was undecided whether he killed you before or after his ascension. 

Godhood. He couldn’t even remember why he wanted it. He could no longer recall his purpose or reason, for it felt as if he knew nothing before. The clarity, the iciness, the limitlessness of every possibility presented before him. To be unlimited doused whatever reality came before. 

Dekarios thought about the moment he was… Gale again. It was a blip, hardly retainable since he closed the veil. A stirring deep within compelled him to find a sliver of time, a shuddering and gossamer line that extended limitless within the realm. He hooked his pinky and plucked at it, drawing it open. 

“Are you alright?” 

Dekarios blinked furiously, extending his hands in front of him and examined the bluish lines that snaked up his forearm. He let out a harsh breath, consumed with a horrible pain. 

“Gale? Gale!” The voice said again. It sounded so familiar but all he could focus on was the blinding stinging, the ache, the pit that gnawed through his core. Dekarios tried to pull himself back, tried to remember his realm, to remember how his avatar felt in the Outer Planes. 

Nothing happened. He felt pools of wetness form on his skull and the sensation made his blood curdle. “This isn’t right.” He said, the words fumbling over one another in a garbled heap. “I need to get back.” 

“Settle down, Solider,” Karlach’s hand was on his chest, pushing him back against the cool cliffside. “Take it easy, Tav’s just getting you some water. You look like death.” She was being playful, but her concern was clear. 

He shook his head violently and then opened his eyes and screamed, a deep, guttural noise and he felt himself rip back through time and into the iciness once more. 

He could still taste the emotions. He could feel the sun.

He heard you.

He didn’t recognize it, couldn’t remember the melody of it and all at once, there you were. The name echoed in his mind - Gale. Gale. 

And then, just as intense as it had come, Dekarios felt nothing at all. No connection to his name, no sense of the weight of gravity against his mortal body. It was jarring to not remember. He had simply forgotten what exactly to be shaken about. And now that he felt it again, despite how fleeting, the compulsion ate at him, begging him to go back. 

“You seem troubled, Gale.” 

He closed his eyes and breathed. Only one refused his chosen title. “Mystra. To what do I owe the pleasure?” He turned on his heel and gave a tight smile. 

“Hm...curiosity.” She tilted her head, mirroring the same tight smile. “How could I not be? One of my former chosen disobeying my direct instruction to then ascend themselves, with mortal blood on their hands? Allowing me entrance is the least you could do.” She walked through the plane, exuding magic as she inspected every ripple, every alter, every aspect of his space. 

“Well, now that you’ve thoroughly quenched your curiosity, if you wouldn’t mind,” Dekarios began to gesture for her to disapperate, and yet she stayed. He clenched his teeth and she laughed. 

“I would mind.” She strode towards him, running her fingers across his shoulders and leaned in to murmur in his ear, “I know you’re up to something.” 

He let out a snort and crossed his arms, shaking her hands off him. “What exactly would I be up to?” 

She cocked a brow, putting a hand on her hip while observing the other, twirling her fingers. “I felt a stir.” Mystra looked him in the eye, hers narrowing. “And I heard a scream that distinctly sounded like a person in duress.” 

“I wouldn’t know anything about that. Now, if you’d please -“ He snapped his fingers, attempting to rid her of his space but her power was no match. 

“Gale don’t be ridiculous,” she laughed and decided she’d toyed with him enough. “I doubt it’s a secret you can keep long.” Just as quick as she appeared, she was gone and Dekarios was alone once more. 

The question he worried over, the question that made him falter before he went to reach for another thread, cooled his curiosity. Why had it been so difficult to come back? 

Until he knew he could, Dekarios would leave the threads alone. He needed to think. 

[neaththeheavens]

alaria x g'raha, 1053 words rated T probably i guess for ahem, things.

a (failed?) cooking lesson!

The stove in the apartment had been preheating for a few bells, making it stuffy and a little hot inside. Alaria and G'raha opened the two large windows in the kitchen, hoping to beckon the breeze inside and cool them off a little while they worked.

G'raha had said he wanted to learn how to cook, but Alaria had thought he'd been kidding about wanting a baking lesson. It seemed to be a throw away statement said in the moment that didn't really mean anything, but they next time they met he mentioned it again.

She'd been a little taken aback but only too happy to comply. This meant they got to spend more time together to explore...whatever it was that was going on between them. They made plans then and there to get together so she could show him the ropes.

Somewhere around mid-afternoon, G'raha arrived at her home, arms full of groceries that he could barely balance without something dropping to the floor here and there. She laughed as soon as she saw him, previous nervousness completely vanishing. He was smiling wide, trying to greet her as a jar of something that looked like Rolanberry jam nearly fell from his fingertips and smashed on to the ground. He caught it again before it dropped, reflexes quick, and managed to stammer a quick "Hello".

She let him in the door and followed him to the kitchen, picking up things that fell from his arms as she trailed behind him. He placed the things he'd been carrying, the ones he was able to keep in his embrace, on to the counter and rounded on the Warrior of Light.

"I-I don't know if I'm ready for this," he laughs, rubbing the back of his neck, and she senses a little bit of trepidation in his voice.

'You'll be fine, darling," she says, tossing the term of endearment in there to see how he reacts, "We're merely following a recipe from a cookbook."

She sees him go a little pink about the cheeks and smiles. He turns to her, also grinning, and holds out his hands to her.

"Teach me, O masterful culinarian!" He says dramatically.

She rolls her eyes at him, and they get to work.

Step 7: Place remaining rolled out pie crust over top of the pie. Press edges together to seal. Cut off excess crust. Cut cute shapes out of crust for venting windows.

They were almost ready to put the pie in the oven; this last step was a crucial one. It made the pie look pleasing to the eye as well as the stomach; something that hobby chefs rarely mastered, but cooking meant a lot to Alaria, so she bothered to learn to cut crusts carefully and clinically so her pies looked as good as they tasted.

Meticulously, Alaria rolled out the last of the pie crust to an even thickness. When she was finished, she rolled it on to a rolling pin and turned to G'raha, whose eyes were comically large at this point.

"And I have to..."

"Yes."

"But what if I ruin it?"

"You won't!"

His ears droop a little, but he takes the rolling pin from her and slowly, carefully rolls the pie crust across the pie. When he's finished, he turns to her and smiles, ears perked back up.

She gives him a genuine, eye-crinkling smile.

"Alright," she says, pointing at the pie. "Now we have to press the edges together to seal the filling into the crust so it doesn't bubble over in the oven.

You'll want to stretch the crust out over the pie a little."

He does as she instructs. She walks around the counter, watching his progress and making sure he doesn't rip their precious pie topper.

"Good, just like that." Her voice is low, but not necessarily husky. Even so, G'raha hesitates a bit but quickly continues to stretch the crust to the very edges of the pie plate.

She's leaning over in front of him now on the other side of the counter, face down close to his as he works and she continues to give advice. He's got a great shot of her cleavage if he angles his eyes just right while his fingers stretch and slip against the dough.

"Don't be afraid to pull it nice and tight," She says, and before the last word is out of her mouth, she knows she's made a grave mistake in her wording.

They both look up, make eye contact, and she sees his cheeks go so, so pink.

Alaria presses her lips together because G'raha looks absolutely scandalized, but she can't keep the laughter in; she bursts out in a fit of giggles at the adorable look on his face and his scarlet cheeks.

He stands up straight, having finished pressing the edges of the pie crust into the little divots on the sides of the pie pan and pulls away the spare bits of crust left over.

She's still laughing when he grumbles something at her she doesn't hear and frowns at her.

"Hmm?"

"I said, it wasn't quite that funny."

It sets her off into a whole new peal of laughter and his frown only deepens.

"You're so easy to embarrass, sweetheart," she says through her mirth, by way of explanation.

The words, along with the new term of endearment, only serves to deepen the pink on his cheeks, but he's got a look about him now. No longer frowning, he rounds the counter and walks straight up to her.

She's barely shorter than him but he seems to tower over her, somehow. His fingers find her chin and angle her head up so he can press their lips together, other arm wrapping around her waist. A short, sweet kiss before he brings his mouth to her ear and chuckles lowly into it. She shivers against him even in the too warm kitchen. Electricity crackles up her spine as he drags his lips along her ear, and now it's her turn to blush, to turn pink, pink, pink, as he whispers to her, his voice deep and rough.

"You tremble at just my breath, love. Would that we could find out what my tongue would do to you."

The pie lies forgotten on the countertop.