#so white milk and bacon feels far more fitting

[xerith-42]

Guys I'm so dumb. Why am I calling them Blazein as the ship name and tag? What the fuck is wrong with me?

Obviously their ship name is White Milk and Bacon.

I will correct this egregious mistake post haste

[thatgirlsnotrightinthebrain]

Feedee asks:

40,45

Anon, this is going to be a very long answer. I have tried answering this ask for you two times prior, and both times I made the mistake of doing it in my phone browser where my fingers have brushed my screen just so so that the page refreshed and deleted the entirety of my amazing answer I have learned from my mistakes, and I am writing my response in a note to copy/paste when I’m done.

40. Cutest feederism fantasy?

I like to think that I’m pretty easy to please. When it comes down to it, all I want is someone who loves me despite my weight, someone who tells me I’m pretty on a regular basis, and if they want to occasionally coax me into eating a family size package of Oreos, I wouldn’t complain. I’m not sure if the following is my “cutest” feederism fantasy, or even if I would want anything like it to happen in real life, but it is a fantasy I had when originally answering this question. Maybe with this being the third time I’m typing it out, it will stick.

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After a month or two of dating, when I start to know whether I like him or not, the guy I’m seeing invites me over to his place for the day to just hang out on his bed or sofa- watching Tv, movies, playing video games. Relaxed. Easy. When I arrive, he has an array of snacks ready for the day. He lays out a huge bowl of plain Ruffles between us. Since it’s still relatively early in our relationship, I graze, intent on only eating one serving of the chips. I don’t want to go crazy. He glances over at me every so often, between scenes of whatever is on the screen in front of us, and sees that I’m enjoying the chips, but that I only took a little bit. “You can have some more you know. I don’t really like those anyway... I prefer the sour cream and onion Lays, but I know you like Ruffles. Besides, you said you didn’t eat before coming over. Please have some more.” I contemplate. If I eat the rest of these chips in this bowl, I won’t have to eat again until later. So I finish the bowl, and the next snack comes out - chocolate chip mini muffins. I take one and he looks out the corner of his eye. “I really should have put these out first, huh?” He chuckles. “They’re more in line with breakfast. I know they’re your favorite, I couldn’t find any mixed packs with corn muffins in them too, so eat up! It’s okay. I’m not that hungry.” So I end up eating all 12 mini muffins. This pattern of him not liking any of these snacks he bought (all my problematic faves) and knowing that I’m hungry, convincing me it’s okay to eat continues. I steadily eat my way through a family size bag of Crunchy Cheetos, a package of Double Dark Chocolate Milanos, a box of cheese-flavored Ritz Bits, a box of Entemann’s Chocolate covered donuts. Eventually he orders some actual food - some bacon cheeseburgers and a carnival sized bucket of fries (he knows they’re my absolute favorite actual non-snack food) and a two liter of Coca-Cola. Everything is so delicious, I just keep eating. Eventually he lays down on his side next to me, stuffed, with my hands cradling my belly. He presents dessert - Chocolate Chip Cookies, a family-sized package of Oreos, and a tall glass of milk. He knows they’re my favorite sweets, that I won’t be able to resist them. After he gently dips each cookie in the glass of milk, he brings cookie after cookie to my mouth while he caresses my tummy, kisses me all over, tells me I’m pretty, that I’m such a good eater. I’m so full, but it just tastes so good, he’s so handsome I can’t say no to that face, I don’t want to. I eat cookie after cookie until they’re all gone. He sees the guilty look on my face. “It’s alright. It’s not like you eat like this all the time. It’s a one time thing... You were hungry, so you ate. It’s okay to indulge and enjoy food every once in a while. There’s nothing to feel guilty about.” The longer we go out, the more frequent days like this become - Once every few months becomes once a month, becomes once a week, becomes three times a week, becomes everyday once we move in together.

Two years later, when he proposes, I have ballooned. I am the heaviest I’ve ever been. The outfit I wore on our first date has not fit in a long while. Since I don’t want to look like a blimp in my white dress for the wedding, I decide to lose weight. He doesn’t argue, he respects my wishes. I try eating salads, but I cover them in cheese and fried chicken. When I decide to exercise, I’m pouring sweat and am out of breath in seconds. I can’t even lift my weight to do one push up on my knees. He assures me I’m beautiful the way I am and I don’t need to lose weight. “We can eat healthier and you’ll slim down.” He knows full well I’m too accustomed to eating junk, that I’ll just try and sneak the junk when he’s not around. And he’s right. Drive throughs are a must for breakfast, lunch, and dinner on weekdays when I work. I grab junk when shopping for healthy groceries on the weekend and eat it all in the car so he’s none the wiser. Except he knows and says nothing. He lets me indulge.

By the time we get married, I’m absolutely huge and I waddle down the aisle, footsteps heavy. There’s a rumor going around among our guests that I needed to reorder my dress three days ago two sizes larger than the one I put in to be altered a month ago. (It’s true.) I look like an enormous cupcake. The guests all whisper about how I blew up and became a beached whale behind my back, but they are nothing but kind to my face. My husband thought ahead - he knows I won’t eat much at the wedding because I feel guilty about my size, so he orders two cakes - one for our 200 guests, and one the same size for our wedding night. Since I’m far too fat to be lifted through the doorway, I waddle to the bedroom where he unzips my dress and I wiggle out of it, all of me continuing to jiggle after it’s off. He makes sure I lay down comfortably on the bed, bedsprings groaning under my weight. He proceeds to cut the second wedding cake into neat slices. Like that first day he invited me to his place, he lays on his side next to me, nothing but admiration visible on his face as he feeds slice after slice of cake into my round moon face. He lovingly rubs my belly and caresses me with kisses all over my body. “You’re absolutely stunning, Mrs. ([insert his last name here.] I love you.” When things get frisky, the bed frame collapses under (mostly) my weight. “It’s alright gorgeous. We’ll get a new one tomorrow. I intend to help you be comfortable with food, your body, and to help you indulge for the rest of forever.”

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45. Favorite chubby pet name?

Honestly, I don’t know if I would like being called any of them. I may be okay with “Piggy” since my parents used to call me one when they thought I ate too much. Maybe “Fatty” or “Fatass” but only in the context of teasing me about how chubby I am and making it clear how much you like it.

[whumpfigure]

They Are Both Scared

Hey, I finally wrote something more than 1k words! Yeay! I hope you enjoy it!

Tagging: @slaintetowhump @ashintheairlikesnow @liliability @ohmywhump @whumptywhumpdump @raigash @castielamigos-whump-side-blog @simplygrimly @whump-it @oceanthesarcasamfox @inky-whump @whumppsychology @inaridriscoll @rivertamandspike @spookyboywhump @faewhump

CW: pet whump, dehumanization, slavery, human trafficking, the BBU(box boy universe) general warnings, shock collars, electrocution, vaguely implied noncon(seriously, it's very hidden I doubt y'all can pick it up), implied whipping and caning, implied being forced inside cold water(hypothermia), starvation

Master had told Bastet about his new catsitter, two days before he actually brought him home. And Master had warned him, right there and then, that if anything like last time happens, he won't be so kind anymore. Bastet had shivered at that, the pain of the whip marks on his back worsening as if Master's threat brought them back to life. And he let out a sound from the back of his throat that resembled a cat's meow. Just how he'd been trained.

And now, two days later, he was kneeling on the rug in front of the front door, waiting for his Master to come back with this new guy. Again, just how he'd been trained. Position two, knees neatly folded, hands placed carefully on the thighs, shoulders back, head straight and eyes down.

When he heard Master open the door and come inside, he did not move, nor look up. He did not bring his eyes up to see the face of his new keeper. Not even when he started speaking, and asked Master where 'the cat' was. Not until Master walked up to him and put a hand on his head. That's when he pushed his head back into Master's touch, and his eyes landed on the man standing a couple of step away, in front of the door. The man - Javier, as he later learned - was wearing a dark red sweater over a white botton up. Like the one Master liked him to wear when they had guests. His brown eyes were behind a pair of rectangular glasses, and his dark brown hair was pushed out of his face. Nothing about him seemed intimidating. In fact, he looked even nerdy. But again, Michael - the previous catsitter - did not seem intimidating either, at first.

He watched as Master explained some things to Javier. Watched as different emotions passed through his eyes. At first confusion. Then something like disgust. And, finally, anger. Although it was subtle, and he doubt his Master even picked it up, but it was still there. Passing through Javier's eyes and lightening them like some kind of fire. And it terrified Bastet. Because anger, as far as Bastet was concerned, never meant anything good. It didn't matter if Master was angry at him, or at someone in work, or anything else. It always ended up with Bastet being in pain and crying.

He was so deep in these thoughts, that he did not understand Master and Javier leaving to other parts of the house. And only realized it when the sound of Master's suitcase being dragged through the hallway reached his ears. And Master came towards him, leaned down, and whispered in his ear. "Be careful what I've warned you, pretty one. Don't let anything like last time happens, hm?"

Master's hot breath against his ear, and the threat in his voice, made him shiver. And he meowed his whimper-like meow to show Master that he'd understood. After that, Master let out a satisfied sound, petted his hair, and stood up to leave.

"Take good care of him." Master called out as he got out of the house and closed the door behind him.

And just like that, Bastet was left alone with his keeper. Again. And it was terrifying. He remembered what happened on his first day alone with Michael. And it sent shivers down his spine.

"So, Bastet, is it true what they say? About box boys?" He had asked, and Bastet had only stared at him. Not allowed to talk. "That you will do whatever you are told?" He had come closer and closer to Bastet, and he noticed the remote control to his shock collar when it was too late, as the electricity ran through his muscles. "Oh, this was fun!" Michael had said with a grin on his face. "Well, I guess we'll find out about those rumors."

Bastet looked up to find the new keeper. To beg him somehow - nonverbal as he was right now, with his collar on - to not hurt him. But the man was nowhere to be seen. Panic washed over him as he realized he didn't know this man at all, and could not predict when, where, and how he would strike. He didn't know the games he might play.

Just as he was drowing in these thoughts, the sound of running water came from the bathroom's direction, and Bastet paled.

Not an ice bath. Please. Please not an ice bath. Please. It's already cold in the house. Please don't make me be colder. He thought as his body unconciously moved towards the fireplace. To treasure some last strands of warmth before he was left freezing for the night.

So, he curled up against the couch near the fireplace, and prayed to whatever gods might be there to keep him safe, now that his Master was gone.

But the sound of water finishes soon after he settles beside the couch. So soon. Too soon to have been the sound of the bathtub filling up. And this time Bastet frowns. What else could Javier be planning?

The door to the bathroom creaked open and Bastet heard Javier's footsteps as he moved from the bathroom towards the kitchen. But Bastet did not try assuming what would happen anymore, and decided to just calm his nerves while he can. It wasn't like he could do anything to stop it. So instead, he just focused on the warmth coming from the fireplace, and imagined that his Master was home, and that he was petting him as he curled up against his feet. Michael barely ever petted him. And when he did, it was usually after he-

Footsteps came out of the kitchen and distrupted Bastet's thoughts. And with the footsteps came a strong spicy smell of food. Bastet's stomach growled. He hadn't eaten anything since morning. And even that had been only a mouthful of bacons and a bowl of milk, and nothing more. He was starving. But he did not dare raise his eyes from behind his knees. Not yet. Not until he heard Javier say that he had made the food for him.

"I'm gonna leave it here on the TV table, ok? Come pick it up whenever you felt like it." Javier said, as he slowly put the plate down on the table, and turned to go back to the kitchen.

The food on the table was warm and still steaming a bit. The smell was spicy and familiar and intoxicating to his empty stomach. He was just about lunging for the food when the reality hit him. It was not in his cat bowl. It was in one of Master's many expensive porcelain dishes, with his even more expensive silverware on the top. It wasn't like he wasn't allowed to eat from Master's dishes. If anything Master liked to have Bastet lick them clean after some meals. But now, without his Master here, and with no permission from neither him now Javier, he definately was not supposed to eat from that.

It might have been a test, from Javier. To test him. To see if he got the hints and he was smart enough to not assume he was allowed things. Or maybe, Javier would come back and sit on the couch, put the plate on his lap, and give some scraps of food to Bastet while he ate the food himself.

So Bastet waited, for a while. Waited to see if Javier would come back. But soon enough, the sound of spoon and fork hitting the plate came from the kitchen and indicated that Javier was eating his own food there. Bastet's stomach growled a second time, and he was trying so hard to not just go to the plate and eat a few bites of the food. Because a few bites would be ok, right? Javier would not understand. Except that he would. They always did. Master once caught him eating a single strawberry from a basket full of them. Bastet was caned 20 times for that.

So instead of sitting there just a few steps away from the cursed plate and fighting the urge to eat, he got up - for he was allowed to walk on his feet unless Master ordered otherwise - and moved towards the stairs, and Master's bedroom above them. For he'd learnt long ago, that sleep helps with hunger. It might not reduce the feeling, but you will not be conscious enough to care.

When he got to Master's bedroom, he went straight towards his bed - cat bed - besides Master's king sized one, and laid down. Curling up to fit inside the not-so-big circular shape of it. But sleep proved to be difficult, and he found himself staring at the far wall of the room, thinking of nothing in particular.

Just as his eyes were starting to warm, and sleep was slowly making its way to him, he heard a voice. Javier's voice. Calling out his name from downstairs. It started as a quiet voice, muffled by the walls between them. And gained volume everytime he called out and Bastet did not answer. Could not answer. Speaking was not allowed unless Master specifically told him to. So he stayed silent as Javier's voice got louder, and closer, as he moved from room to room looking for him. And he curled up tighter on his bed, trying to make himself smaller, invisible, to stay safe from Javier's rage. Because in Bastet's world, only two things caused loud voices. Pain, and fury.

When the door to the bedroom burst open, and Javier rushed inside towards Bastet - while muttering a thank god under his breath - Bastet was practically shaking with silent sobs.

"Bast? Hey, hey are you ok?" Javier asked, and that made Bastet sob even harder, unable to stop. And suddenly, accidentally, one of his many quiet sobs turned audible. The collar was quick to pick it as a non-identified sound - for the only identified ones were cat noises - and sent a strong bolt of electricity through Bastet's small form. And he screamed. Pain filling up his senses, and making his muscles tense, and then go limp as the shock stopped. It took everything in Bastet to not crying out and earn another shock, and he forced his voice down, and let the tears do the job that the voice should have done, and soothe his pain.

Bastet wasn't quite there enough to notice that Javier was panicking beside him, and that he rushed outside, scrambling to get his phone and dial Jenna's number. He did not hear Javier talk to Jenna in impossibly rapid English, trying to figure out what to do with a terrified boxboy that had just endured a strong electric shock. And by the time Jenna managed to calm Javier down enough, and helped him know what to do, Bastet's exhausted mind had fallen into sleep.

[briefololtragedy]

Of menus and audio-books

Pairing Kakashi Sakura

Rating M

Summary: Sakura and Kakashi both want their dinner date, but Sakura's work keeps getting in the way. Sakura asks for Kakashi's help with tasting the menu, lets see what happens. The coffee shop saga continues

also posted to AO3 , follow up to Pakkun’s plan and Frazzled Friday

Sakura couldn’t believe the last two weeks she has had. Two weeks ago she was supposed to have dinner with Kakashi, but she kept having to put it off for work. She really needed to make a note to never cater ever again. She thought nothing could be worse than catering for that 16th birthday party, a shiver ran up her spine thinking of all the pink and sparkles. Hana, Sakura loved her to death, but between her changing her mind about the menu every other day and then Kiba constantly showing up in the coffee shop, Sakura was on her last shred of sanity. Kakashi still visited with Pakkun, but for not as long and his visits were what was getting her through this hell. She knew that Kakashi wasn’t fully comfortable talking with her when Kbia was present. 

Burning...something was burning! She looked around and realized it was her muffins that she put into the oven. Sakura made a mad dash to the kitchen, smoke was billowing out of her oven. The muffins were beyond saving. Throwing the tray into the sink she couldn’t help but let out a frustrated yell. The shop wasn’t open yet, not for another 30 minutes, so there were not any customers to scare away. 

And it was just at this moment her phone decided to ding. Not even two seconds later the phone was flying across the kitchen. Yep...here come the tears. She didn’t know anymore if they were out of frustration or actual sadness. Hana changed her mind again and wanted to go into a different direction. Sakura already decided that this day sucked. She just wanted to crawl back into bed and cuddle up with a good book. Silver flashed across her mind, cheeks flushed. She wouldn’t mind cuddling with him either. 

Sakura didn’t know what to make of their relationship. He was more than a customer, but she wasn’t sure what he wanted. She wanted to get to know him more, wanted to see him outside of these stupid walls. She wanted to shave her legs, do her hair and makeup, and wear a dress for him, well more for her, but she wanted him to be there to appreciate her. A small voice said she also wanted to appreciate him, take that scarf and more off of him. 

After her 10 minute freak out she got up from the floor, retrieved her phone and went to work. She was on the phone with Hana when he came in, he was earlier than usual (very odd). After talking Hana down from the edge, no she would not do German Russian fusion, what even the hell was that! She will handle the menu and told Hana to not worry about it. She couldn’t help the flutter in her chest when watching her favorite duo take a seat. She thanked whatever deity was looking out for her since Kiba was nowhere in sight. 

“I think someone played a prank on you and messed with your clocks. You do know that it is 9am?” Kakashi was yet again hard at work on his laptop, Pakkun at his feet. She sat across from him, well she more like flopped into the seat, but it was a long day and it was only 9am! 

“Hmm, maybe I just really wanted to see you.” Kakashi felt worn down, he didn’t want to beat around the bush. He was here finally when Sakura wasn’t busy with a certain customer. It was over a month since he had started to frequent Sakura’s coffee shop and he really wanted that dinner date. It didn’t help that Genma started talking about the pretty pink haired coffee shop owner when he was drunk the other night. Images flashing through his mind. He also wanted to take her up on her offer of helping him with his audiobook debacle. Kakashi decided that today would be the day, they would set the actual day for their date.

“I’m sure a busy editor like yourself has better things to do.” Sakura took a pause. “I’m sorry we haven’t been able to get our dinner together. This catering event has been a huge headache. You and this little guy have been so helpful.” Why couldn’t they seem to get out of these four stupid walls. 

“I’m never too busy for coffee or your dessert of the day.” Sakura couldn’t help but smile, it was then she decided to throw her shoulders back and give herself a mental pep talk. “So my client changed the menu again, this is a short notice, but how would you feel about testing out the menu I came up with tonight?” It felt like an eternity as she waited for his answer. 

Kakashi wanted to jump up and cheer, but he was not Gai. “Tonight would work.” His palms were not sweaty, he was not a teenager anymore. However, he felt himself melt at that wide dazzling smile. “Perfect! I’ll send you my address. Does 8 work?” 

“8 sounds good.” He would have made sure that it worked. Kakashi watched her walk away and couldn’t help but chuckle at the flour she had on the back of her jeans, highlighting her amazing backside asset. Eight couldn’t come fast enough. 

Sakura couldn’t help the extra pep in her step throughout the rest of the day. Mei looked at her like she grew a second head when she was giving customers free upgrades on their coffee orders. Sakura even had time during her break to make a menu and grocery list. She would have plenty of time to get what she needed, exercise (cause of her sugar addiction), and start preparing the food. She felt good, she hadn’t felt this good in a long time. Sakura had decided on a simple green fit n flare dress that came to her mid thigh, hair was in a messy bun, and just a little bit of makeup. 

A knock on her door brought her back down to earth. She froze and was at a loss for words at the sight before her. Kakashi was wearing dark loose fitting jeans and a light grey henley shirt. She could see part of a tribal tattoo peeking out from under his right sleeve. Then there was his scarf, or more importantly the lack of a scarf. Internally she started to whimper, it wasn’t far for him to look like that. 

“Kakashi please come in. I’m not making everything that I was thinking of serving for the event, but wanted to do a variety. You wouldn’t mind giving me your opinion on the other foods too?” Sakura felt more comfortable talking about food or more work related topics. She didn’t trust herself with him. Previous boyfriends didn’t like it when she was more “aggressive.” 

“Sounds good.” Kakashi couldn’t help, but appreciate Sakura’s appearance. She always looked stunning, but now...  He could see her muscular thighs, small waist, toned arms, and her rear. He had admired one of her best assets earlier today and couldn’t help stare as she led him through her house.  

“Here is the menu I wrote up. Whatcha think?” Sakura was leaning over her kitchen island resting on her elbows. 

Kakashi looked at the menu in front of him: Short Rib Crostini with Cambozola Cheese and Cherry Jam. Kimchi deviled eggs. Apple stuffed pork tenderloin wrapped in bacon. Butternut squash soup, tomato soup with mini grilled cheese crouton. Caramelized onion, goat cheese, and mushroom flatbread. Teriyaki salmon mini burgers. Medley of roasted vegetables Desserts in a shot glass: Tarrimsu, white chocolate blueberry cheesecake, lemon meringue. Trio of hot chocolate and cookies 

“There will also be fruit and vegetables, fresh dip...Oh and some homemade crackers. I was thinking of baked brie with apricot jam. There were fresh apricots at the store and couldn’t help making some jam.” Before he could speak his stomach decided to join the conversation. 

“Hmm , maybe I should stop talking about food and we should go to the eating part. I made the deviled eggs, flatbread, vegetables, tomato soup and grilled cheese. Then the hot chocolate and either chocolate chip or snickerdoodle cookies.” All of the smells that hit him when he first walked in all made sense now. He could smell the cookies, but really caught his attention was the eggplant in the mix of roasted vegetables. 

“That sounds like a perfect plan. I forgot to ask if it would be alright to take you up on your offer from a couple of weeks ago, and have you listen to me read?” He had tried reading for Jiraya earlier, but all he got was a sour face from the man. 

“It's the least I can do. Let’s eat!”  Sakura found the conversation was easy. Kakashi gave some comments on the food, she noticed how he went back for more eggplant. She also had to pat herself on her back for not being too awkward. She found herself talking about Naruto and Jiraiya. Along with stories of Ino. Kakashi shared about his dogs, how he rescued them, he had more than just Pakkun. He had been in the army, but left after 5 years. He found himself settling into the publishing business with his passion for books. 

Kakashi had settled into her sofa, while she decided to clean the kitchen before dessert. Guilt overtook him while he watched her do the dishes and clean off the counters. He found himself making his way to help her, she seemed shocked when he pushed her over to dry while he washed. It seemed like her friends didn’t volunteer often to help her clean. 

The dish water had gotten his shirt slightly damp on the front, allowing for it to cling just enough to get an outline of his abs. It was getting hotter in her kitchen and the oven was off. She was taken out of her thoughts when she felt an arm grazing her back. “Sorry, I finished washing and decided to help with drying, the only other towel was to your right. You were lost in thought I didn’t want to disturb you.” 

“Sorry for zoning out. Let me get the hot chocolate ready. Do you want white, milk, or dark chocolate? Also cookie choice.” She had decided on white chocolate and snickerdoodle, hmm this sugar was going to go straight to her ass. 

“I’m starting to think you are made out of sugar. I will have dark chocolate. Hmm I think I’ll try both, I’ve been a good boy.” Sakura felt warm again, how was she going to get through him reading one of those stupid books. 

“The night is still young, hope you stay a good boy. Lets go to the living room for your contribution to the evening.” Kakashi was having second thoughts. “Are you sure it’s okay for me to practice?” He didn’t want her to run away or ruin what relationship they had.

“Kakashi it's the least I can do! You have been so much help with all of this, have a seat.” Kakashi went back to sitting on the sofa, placing his hot chocolate on the end table. The chocolate chip cookie was already gone. Sakura made herself comfortable on the other end of the sofa, she was sitting facing him, one of her legs under her, she was sipping on her drink and occasionally dunking her cookie into it. 

“Alright here goes nothing.” Kakahi cleared his throat as he started to read. 

“We shouldn’t be doing this, Maalik.” Elena looks forlorn. The wind blows her chestnut hair in front of her face obscuring her crystal clear blue eyes. They are meeting in their safe haven, far from the eyes of their families. A small stream flowed through the area, wildflowers surrounding. The trees provided shade from the gruling sun. A ray of light had cut through the trees and onto Elena, it was their oasis.. Maalik couldn’t help but give pause. She was beauty, nothing could compare. He could feel his palms become sweaty and his heart race as he looked at her. 

Kakashi noticed that Sakura was adjusting in her seat. She was cupping her mug with both hands staring at him intently. He continued on. 

“You say that everytime we meet, my love.” Maalik’s smoky voice penetrated through the air. He couldn’t help, but bring his hand to her face making her look him in the eyes. Elena’s heart was beating so fast it felt like it would come out of her chest. All thoughts vanished from her mind as she looked into his brown eyes. His arm went to wrap around her waist, pulling her to him. Elena’s hand was resting on his chest and she could feel his heart beating like a drum in his chest. 

Sakura could feel some discomfort between her legs grow. She wanted to rub them together. It should not be allowed to have his deep baritone voice so smooth, warming her all the way to her bones. 

“Every time I see you I can’t help but feel like your beauty grows, it puts the flowers to shame.” He couldn’t help but bring their lips together. It had been weeks since they last saw each other. Elena was hesitant at first, but wasted no time to deepen the kiss. They both were acting like people dying of thirst getting water for the first time. Before Elena knew it she was laying on the grass, Maalik hovering over her. Their kiss never broke. 

Kakashi’s heart was beating fast. He was sure he was blushing. Sakura’s eyes had started to glaze over. He wanted to reach out and move that strand of hair from her face. 

“Please...Please Maalik it's been too long. I need you.” Maalik didn’t have to be told twice as he ventured down Elena’s body leaving wet trails as he made it to his destination. 

“Sakura… are you alright?” She had been fidgeting in her seat. “I...” All self control had abandoned her and she lunged. She shoved the book out of his hands as she settled herself on his lap. Sakura cupped his face in her hands and went in for the kiss. She could taste the lingering chocolate and cinnamon from dessert. Part of her wondered if he would pull away, but once she felt him deepening the kiss with hands going to her hips she cheered internally. 

Kakashi was wondering if he was dreaming. The slight nip on his lip assured him this was reality. He couldn’t help, but to slide his hands up her thighs to her hips. He took note of the ripple of her muscles with his touch. Kakashi pulled her closer to him. A low moan escaped him as Sakura started to slowly circle her hips against him. The small whine she created when he had to pull away broke part of him. They both were panting heavy just from their kiss. 

“I have wanted to kiss you since the first time I met you. Do you know how much I desired to pull that stupid scarf off of you? “ Sakura’s voice had taken a husky quality to it, while they had stopped their current activity she continued to stay on his lap. 

“Sakura you are no better, with those tight jeans and aprons you wear. How a baker has this great of an ass I will never know.” To emphasize his point one of his hands went to squeeze her ass lovenly. This time it was Kakashi initiating their heated lip lock. His hair was so soft between her fingers. A pleasant sensation ran up her spine as he rubbed small circles on her hip. She wanted to explore more of him. 

Sakura found her right hand venturing downward, tracing the outlines of his pectorals, down his abdominal muscles, to rest just above his jeans. She slowly pulled away from him, resting her forehead on his, as she slowly unbuttoned his jeans to slide her hand to her goal. The moan and bucking of his hips was the only sign she needed to continue. She could feel Kakashi’s lips on her neck, him lightly biting at times. Sakura almost had to give pause once she had his sizable member in her hands. She licked her lips as she started to slowly work up and down his shaft. Her position was slightly awkward as her hand was between both their bodies. She wanted to move with him and found herself circing her hips with his rhythm. 

Kakashi felt like he was in overload at the moment. The taste of her neck and mouth still lingering, then the feel of Sakura’s hand as she worked him, and then her hips grinding against him it was almost too much. Before he could speak he found himself standing up with her in his arms. The small squeak she let out was adorable, but it was her wrapping her legs around him that he focused on. 

“Bedroom?” At his question Sakura pointed her head in the direction of her hallway. As he made his way to his destination he couldn’t help but kick off his jeans as they fell down. Once he found the right door on his own. Sakura had decided to start licking and biting at his neck, hands wondering. At least she had released her hold on little Kakashi because he didn’t think he would have the self control to not take her against the wall. 

He made quick work of his shirt after laying her down, while Sakura made quick work of her dress. 

Sakura started to feel self conscious as she looked at the greek god in front of her. The tattoo that she saw earlier extended up his shoulder and over his right pec. She was so wrapped up on her thoughts she didn’t notice Kakashi staring. 

While Sakura made some of the most delicious desserts they didn’t make his mouth water as much as the woman in front of him. Her breasts were covered by a white lace bra, but looked like they would fit perfectly in his hands. His eyes trailed down her flat stomach to her matching pair of white panties. It was time for his second dessert. 

Sakura felt her bed dip as Kakashi joined her. Her arms locking around his neck as he started to kiss her. She couldn’t help but to rub her legs together as one of his hands went to her breast, messaging it. He started to trail down her with kisses. Him making quick work of her bra as he latched onto one of her nipples, while he messaged the other. After a few minutes he switched. The pressure between her legs was building and she couldn’t help her whimpers and moans. She wanted more. 

As if hearing her thoughts he ventured down her stomach pausing where her underwear started, then it was gone. His thumb started to rub circles over her clit before he replaced it with his mouth. He started sucking gently at first then the pressure started to build, especially once he placed two finger into her pumping at a lazy rhythm at first. Her back arched and she was coming. 

Kakashi came back up to kiss her and she could taste herself. She wasted no time in wrapping her legs around him as he positioned himself. Finally he slid inside, stretching her deliciously. 

____________________________________________

They laid intertwined both exhausted from their multiple rounds. 

“You don’t like my scarf?” Sakura rolled her eyes as she nestled into him more. “Shut up and don’t make me regret spending my day off with you.” 

Extra- Pakkun's thoughts:

Pakkun thought all was well 2 weeks ago, yet his owner can't seal the deal with the pretty shop owner. Pakkun has his life set and Kakashi had to ruin it. Tonight just takes the cake! Kakashi left him! Kakashi had looked like a nervous teenager when he left, mumbling to himself as he walked out the door. It almost sounded like he was giving himself a pep talk. Pakkun looks to the sofa where the other human is sitting, sipping a beer, while having a toothpick in his mouth, why was this guy even here! Pakkun had become accustomed to tuning out this human. he vaguely hears a ding of the phone. "Well peanut looks like it will be just us. Kakashi wont be back tonight, lucky dog." Genma has a smirk on his face.

Pakkun doesn't want to be with Genma and he also sees his hopes of a belly full of dog biscuits crumble. Surely if Kakashi was visiting Sakura he would have taken Pakkun along.

[the-real-anywolf]

Destiel Advent Calendar 2019

Title: Snow Angels

Tags: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Castiel, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, First Kiss, Movie Reference, Unexpected Snowfamily, Fluff, SO MUCH FLUFF, It’s Gross, Sam Eats Real Pork Bacon, Frankie Made Me Tag That, Because She Thinks He's Canonically Vegetarian, And I Love My Muggsy So...

Summary: After an unexpected snowstorm hits Kansas, Dean and Sam decide to teach Cas about the joys of a snow day.

Written by: @eyesofatragedy67​ (Eyes_of_a_Tragedy)

Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21665974

Snow Angels

Dean woke up at ass o'clock and stumbled his way to the kitchen. Coffee. He desperately needed coffee.

With all the patience of a child, he bypassed the fancy coffeemaker Sam had purchased and grabbed some instant and a mug from the cabinet over the microwave. It was gross, but, dude, caffeine.

Cup of joe in hand, he popped a new filter in Sam's fancy gizmo and poured in some grounds from Cas's stash in the freezer. Setting it to drip, he shuffled up the stairs to the front door and hauled it open.

Fluffy white stuff toppled through the opening, landing at his feet. It wasn't an avalanche like in the animes he secretly enjoyed (Shut up, okay? So what if he watched shojo every now and then?), more like a foot or so of snow.

He dumped the remainder of his coffee into the snow on the outer stoop and scooped some of the fresh stuff into his empty mug. Excited now, he jogged down the stairs and ran down the hall toward the bedrooms.

Bursting through Sam's door, he upended the mug right on his brother's face. "Rise and shine, Sammy!"

Sam sputtered awake, jackknifing up from his prone position. "Wha-"

He wiped his hand over his face and pulled it back, shaking off the melting slush. Dean watched, waiting for it to click.

Glancing down at his lap, which was now a pool of semi-solid snow, Sam asked, "Did you dump snow on my face?"

Dean chuckled.

Realization flitting across Sam's face, he repeated, "You dumped snow on my face!"

Grinning, Dean turned to leave the room. "Sure did, bitch! Get your ass dressed. Coffee's brewing. I'mma go see if I can find Cas. We're having a snow day!"

He didn't wait for Sam's response, but he could feel the 'jerk' aimed at his retreating form.

Dean did a cursory check of the bunker, but his finely feathered friend was nowhere to be found. Making a pit stop at his room, he layered up for proper snow play, then followed the sounds of banging in the kitchen. He found Sam preparing a breakfast of scrambled eggs, bacon, toast, and fresh fruit.

"Bacon, Sam? Did I traumatize you?"

Bitch face firmly planted, Sam replied, "I know you. We're going to be out there forever. We'll need the protein. Did you find Cas?"

"No, I'm gonna try angel radio in a few minutes." He snagged a strip of bacon from the plate it was draining on. "Mmm, yummy pork."

Sam rolled his eyes, but the corners of his mouth were tilted in a smile. His brother prepped plates for them both and placed them on the table. Dean grabbed utensils and the roll of paper towels.

"You want orange juice or milk, Sammy?"

Sam opted for OJ, so Dean poured two glasses and sat down to eat. When they were done - Sam having stolen a piece of Dean's bacon, and Dean swiping a grape and strawberry from Sam's plate - Sam grabbed the dishes, and Dean sat back to pray.

"Red rover, red rover, can Castiel come over? If you can hear me, buddy, well-"

There was the signature fwup that heralded Castiel's appearance, along with a tension that was probably just in Dean's head. Or pants.

"I don't understand your red rover reference, Dean. Is it about Opportunity? I can assure you, she's in a far better place than-"

Dean interrupted, "I remember, Cas. But that’s not what meant. I’ll explain it to you later,” he promised. “It's a winter wonderland outside, and Sam and I are going to have a snow day. You want in?"

Cas did that head tilt thing Dean had grown so fond of. "What is a snow day?"

Dean's head whipped toward Sam, who had a look on his face that was morphing from disbelief to glee. Grinning, the brothers turned toward Cas, and Dean asked, "Do you want to build a snowman, Cas?"

.... :::: :::: ....

Bundled up in all the layers they could find, Sam and Dean joined Cas in the war room.

Dean was making a list on the note app on his phone. "We need supplies, Sammy."

Sam dropped a duffel on the table. "I'm way ahead of you, man."

Dean grinned and patted the pocket of his jacket. There was something special in there. "Awesome. C'mon, Cas, let's go outside and start your education."

Carefully trudging up the outside stairs, Dean led the trio to the edge of the woods. "Okay, Cas," Dean clapped his gloved hands together, "follow my lead."

Dean started rolling the ball that would be the base of his snowman, watching as Cas's pile of snow grew larger. He reached over and helped position Cas's hands, shaping the pile into something rounder.

"Yeah, like that. You just make that as big as you want it, alright, because we're going to put another one on top of it." He glanced over to find Sam already on his second stack. He pointed and Cas’s gaze followed. “Like that. Your goal is to create a base big enough to build on, then you’re going to add another until you’ve got a humanoid shape. Got it?”

“I understand, Dean.” He watched, eyebrow quirked, as Cas started molding a much larger shape, then shrugged it off. The angel would figure it out.

Dean finished his base, then got to work on the middle layer. He became absorbed, humming under his breath as he packed the snow. When he had the head done, he looked over to see Sam was accessorizing his creation and explaining it to Cas.

“Yeah, you decorate it however you want. Mine is a moose, so I need to find some branches to make into antlers.”

“Oh.” Cas was doing that adorable head tilt thing, and Dean held back a laugh when he continued, “Inias is a panda, so I don’t think he would have decorations?”

"Why do I know that name?" Dean asked.

Cas looked over with wounded eyes. "Inias is one of my fallen brethren. We were… very close."

A lightbulb went off in Dean's head. "Dark hair, blue eyes, 'bout your height? Showed up with that bitch Hester a while back?"

Cas nodded. "Yes."

"He seemed like a good guy."

The small smile gracing Cas's face was a vast improvement over the pain of just minutes before.

Sam paused in the middle of buttoning one of his flannels around his moose’s torso. “Hmm, what if we grab some of the paint from the basement and paint him?”

Dean went back to examining his snowman. “Okay, brother, let’s get you suited up, hmm?”

He found two decent arm sticks, ones with a bit of bulk to them, then quickly removed his jacket and a light blue flannel. Putting the leather back on, he wrapped the snowman in the cotton then pulled the first item out of his pocket. He walked to the back of it and attached two clips to the bottom of the shirt, then laid the straps over the shoulders. Back at his snowman’s front, he hooked the ends of the suspenders to the front of the shirt and stepped back to examine his work.

So far, so good.

Dean looked over to see Sam’s moose finished; he’d gently wrapped toilet paper around the sticks to make them look more like antlers, crafty bastard, and there was a cocktail glass with a paper umbrella and a pitchfork in one of its moose-y mitts. He felt a moment of grief, but it was quickly replaced with fond memories. Some of which Sam would never know about, thank you very much.

His brother was now helping Cas delicately apply paint to his snowpanda. It was looking pretty good. Dean rummaged through Sam’s bag, knowing there would be charcoal briquettes in there for eyes. He took two, then moved back to his sculpture.

Gingerly pushing the lumps of coal into place, he whispered in a hokey accent, “You been a bad boy, mon ami.” Then he pulled a treasured cap out of his pocket and situated it on top of his head. Almost done. “Don’t be mad. I know these aren’t yours, but you need teeth, ‘k?” He crammed a set of plastic vampire teeth into the head and stood back, laughing and somewhat offended on his friend’s behalf.

Glancing at Sam, he could see his brother’s understanding. And Cas had a similar look on his face. He nodded at them and said, “Snowpire.”

They both smiled at him indulgently as he added the final touch - a single drop of blood from the fingertip he’d pricked and applied to the tip of a fang.

Looking over, he threw out, “Mental note to sterilize all of this stuff later, Sam,” and got an affirmative in response.

Cas reached into his pocket and came back out with two pieces of clear blue rock in his hand. They were rough, with jagged edges, but smooth on the surface. His friend placed them where the eyes would go and leaned in close, whispering something under his breath that Dean couldn’t quite make out. He caught the word “cupcake”, though, and it made him smile.

The three of them drew back to view the finished products. Dean clasped Cas’s shoulder and said, “Good job for your first try. Next time we’ll have to-” but got no further due to the face full of snow Sam had just thrown at him.

Wiping his wet glove over his now wet face, he barked out “Oh, it’s on, bitch!” He ran in one direction, Sam in the opposite, taunting all the way, while Cas stood there looking perplexed. Dean packed a handful of fluffy ice into a solid mass fit for lobbing at little brothers.

Chucking it toward Sam, he quickly realized there was too much distance between them. Sam must have reached the same conclusion because he was no longer looking in Dean’s direction. Instead, ball of snow firmly in hand, he was eyeing Cas standing conveniently between them. Dean packed another and glanced back at his brother, nodding his understanding. The two of them let their ammunition fly, hitting their target from both sides.

Cas’s reaction was less than satisfying. “Why are you throwing ice at me?”

Dean scooped up some more and casually walked over to him. “Well, buddy, this is another part of snow days. You might understand better if I explain it to you in other terms, though. See...” he stepped closer, slung an arm around Cas’s shoulders and trailed his gloved fingers over the back of his neck. “This, Cas? This is war.” And he dumped the handful of ice down the back of Cas’s shirt.

Again, not the reaction he was going for, but he recognized that twitch in Cas’s eyes and started running. “War? War is something I was strategizing before your species learned about fire. I was orchestrating armies while your ancestors were-” SPLAT!

Dean doubled over with laughter as Sam yelled out, “You talk a big game, but you know jack shit about snowball fights!”

Oh, shit! His brother had a death wish. One minute Cas was standing, head tilted in that menacing way Dean remembered from day one; the next he was launching snowballs with unearthly accuracy and speed. And Sam wasn’t his only target.

There was a tap on his shoulder, and he turned to find his friend-turned-foe standing with both hands loaded. Dean was on the receiving end of two very cold hits to the face. He gasped in shock, then howled uproariously. He grabbed up his own heap of snow and shoved it right in Cas’s face then turned and ran toward his brother, who would make a far more convenient target.

Cas chased, and the three of them tossed snow at each other until the brothers were too exhausted to run anymore. “Truce!” Dean screamed, Sam nodding in agreement. “I beg for forgiveness, Cas! We underestimated you. You win!”

The transformation of his angel’s face was a thing of beauty. Victory looked good on him. Dean flopped back into the snow drift he was standing in and waited for his breathing to return to normal. As much as he hated to admit it, he needed to up his cardio.

Sam flopped down near him, breathing much more managed. He started flapping his arms and legs in the snow, and Dean grinned and followed suit. Cas approached them, brow furrowed with confusion.

“What are you doing now? Is this some form of exercise to increase your circulation?”

Dean stood up carefully and waved Cas over. “Nah, this is snow angels.” He pointed to the leg area and explained that it was supposed to resemble the skirt area of how angels were always depicted in artwork.

Cas nodded and moved to the side and gestured at the arms. “So, these are supposed to be the wings?”

“Yeah,” Dean rubbed at the base of his skull. “I mean, I know it’s nowhere near accurate, but it’s fun. You wanna try?”

Sam crawled out of his snow angel and ambled over to watch as Cas walked to the clear area above their figures. He laid down in the snow, and Dean waited for him to start moving, knowing it would be a sight worth remembering. Instead, he stared in awe as a set of impressions appeared to either side of Cas’s shoulders, stretching out for yards.

He heard Sam’s gasp, then, “Cas, are those your wings?”

“Yes. They aren’t visible on the mortal plain, but I can display them indirectly if I use enough grace.”

Dean looked over to see an expression of child-like wonder on his brother’s face. “That’s so cool!” Sam reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, then stepped back to snap a pic. “I think we should get this framed.” Then he moved to photograph all of their other snow creations.

Dean stood at Cas’s feet and breathed out, “They’re amazing, Cas.”

The actual angel actually blushed. “Thank you.” He reached up and Dean gently drew him to his feet, so as not to disturb the imprint his angel left behind.

Sam called out, “I’m gonna go make some cocoa! Do you two want some?”

They both nodded, and Sam clambered down the stairs to the bunker, taking his duffel bag with him.

Dean looked back at Cas, who appeared to be having some kind of internal debate. “What’s wrong?”

The corner of Cas’s mouth quirked up, and he shook his head. “Nothing at all. I was just wondering if you know how often you think of me as your angel. I don’t listen to your thoughts intentionally, but you also stopped putting up a wall.”

It was Dean’s turn to blush. “Umm, yeah,” he spoke to the snowy ground. “Sorry about that.”

He felt warm fingers tilt his head back up. “Don’t be, Dean Winchester. I’ve been yours since the moment I saw your soul shining in the darkest depths. And I’ll be yours until all of the stars burn out.”

A tear fell from the corner of his eye, and Dean reached up to brush a stray snowflake from Cas’s cheek. He inhaled deeply, the chill air burning in his lungs. “Cas…”

His angel grinned at him, then leaned in and whispered against his lips, “I know.”

They kissed, and it was soft and sweet and everything Dean had ever wanted from this man. Well, almost.

“I swear, Cas. If you tell Sam you just Solo’d me, I’ll find a way to pluck your feathers and make a pillow out of them.”

Cas laughed, and it was glorious. “Your secret is safe with me,” he replied.

.... :::: :::: ....

It was nearing midnight on Christmas Eve, and Dean was curled up in his angel’s arms on the sofa they’d moved into the Dean Cave, watching “It’s A Wonderful Life”.

He was just about to comment on the fact that a certain dark-haired demon must have been fond of this film when both of their phones pinged. Shuffling around to reach into their pockets, they each found a new message.

Dean wondered why his brother was texting them from down the hall. He and Cas both checked the message to find an all caps “MERRY CHRISTMAS, JERKS” followed by an attachment. Cas was the first to open it, smiling radiantly at what he saw on the screen.

He turned his phone to Dean and started the video again. “I think he knows.” Dean saw zoomed in footage of the two of them, kissing in the snow. You could easily make out Dean’s astonishment and Cas’s teasing response.

Dean grabbed the cell and typed in a response. “We love you, too, bitch.” Then he tossed both phones on the table and pressed Cas down into the cushions, pillowing his head on his chest. A bell rang on screen, signaling an angel got his wings.

[irrelevantwriter]

Mommy’s pregnant, Daddy’s sick, and Who’s in the basement?

Pairing: Negan x OFC, Non-apocalyptic AU

Rating: Explicit, NSFW, Mostly fluff

Warnings: Language, tiny bit of Daddy kink, pregnancy, vaginal fingering, hungover Negan, domestic Negan, lots of fluff

Word Count: 4.6K

Summary: Camilla is expecting. Negan is in rare form. And someone decides to show up unannounced.

A/N: Hey guys! This idea would not let me be and I’m not entirely sure why because there is literally nothing to it. I have a writing challenge piece to finish and I could not even touch it without getting this all down. Its fluffy with a dash of smut and hopefully now that it’s out I can get back to more important matters. Read, comment, and re-blog! Hope you all enjoy!

Masterlist in bio. 

***

Camilla stirred from sleep as a heavy arm tightened around her stomach. The heat radiating off the prone form made her pull away in displeasure. A low groan sounded from behind her, but no movement followed. She smiled softly at the action and went to fall back asleep but a distinct urge to use the bathroom had her throwing the comforter off her body.

Bleary eyes settled on the clock sitting on her nightstand.

8:15 am

It was early for a Sunday morning, but she knew she wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep. She padded on bare feet to the bathroom, careful not to wake her slumbering husband. She quickly used the facilities as quietly as possible, briefly noting that her once favorite night shirt was now starting to become tighter around her six month pregnant belly. The shirt actually belonged to her husband, but she’d stolen it years ago and cut the collar out so that it dangled off one shoulder. There was a time it nearly swallowed her, but now, like much of her wardrobe, the article of clothing was being invaded by her unborn child.

She made her way to the kitchen, laughing noiselessly at the man who lay sprawled on his stomach in just his boxers on their bed. The clothes he’d worn last night sat in a messy pile on the floor. It looked as if he’d barely gotten his pants off before he was diving face first into the king sized mattress. His head was turned towards her and she could hear his heavy breaths with random bouts of snoring filling the room. She could swear she saw a small line of drool leave his puckered lips.

Negan had come to bed early in the morning. She’d been jostled awake by his drunken striptease. He almost looked like Woody from Toy Story; his long limbs a hinderance in his altered state. When she’d turned to face him, she could instantly tell he’d been intoxicated. A lazy smirk had adorned his mouth. His cheeks were red with warmth and alcohol, his hair mused from his hands running through it. When he realized he’d woken her up he immediately tried to coax her into a two AM romp…she shut it down, though it was hard for her to do. She was six months pregnant and her hormones were running rampant inside of her body, but she couldn’t stomach the smell of whiskey on his breath or the scent of cigar smoke that clung to his skin. Not to mention the bastard had passed out when he’d been edging a thick finger past her panties.

Camilla scoffed at the memory as she put on a pot of coffee for her most likely hungover spouse. She started on breakfast, knowing Negan would be hungry when he woke. He was the kind of hungover person that needed to eat as much greasy food as possible to cure the sickness. She was more of a water and broth kind of gal when she was nursing a killer hangover, but to each his own. Greasy food just also happened to be what her baby boy was craving that morning, so she happily obliged.

The night before, Negan had hosted his weekly poker night with a few of his friends. The guys gathered in their finished basement, or as Negan liked to call it: ‘Big Daddy Dick’s Dwelling’. It was a heinous name, but anyone who knew Negan knew that it fit his personality (and from personal experience she knew the words to be true). And despite the constant threatening, none of his friends addressed it by the official name. She’d made a comment about changing the name when the baby arrived, but Negan assured her he’d only refer to it as ‘The Dwelling’. The man was persistent.

The smell of cooking bacon and coffee started to penetrate the air and Camilla could feel her mouth start to salivate. Her hunger never seemed to be satiated lately, in the kitchen or bedroom. She whisked eggs together for herself, but set two aside for Negan since he liked his over-easy. Hash browns sizzled in a pan next to the bacon while two pieces of toast popped from the toaster. She hummed to the radio she’d turned on as she cooked, focused on her mission of feeding her family.

Nearly an hour later a muffled moan from down the hall made her smirk as she cracked Negan’s eggs into the pan. She could hear his heavy feet shuffling as he made his way to her. A pair of thick arms encircled her from behind, large hands coming to rest on her stomach. His chin settled onto her shoulder, his scruff pricking her skin in a familiar manner.

“The dead has risen.” She teased, avoiding the pops of grease from the hot pan below her. He hummed against her, the action making his chest vibrate against her back.

“Fucking barely.” He groaned, his voice still gravelly from sleep and the cigars smoked the night before. It made a shiver travel up her spine. The effect the man had on her seem to triple in size now that she was carrying his child.

She laughed, remembering his actions the night before. Negan didn’t make it a habit of getting drunk. It was a fairly rare occurrence and now Camilla was annoyed with herself that she hadn’t thought to at least record the spectacle on her phone. The video could’ve been a source of real entertainment for her, as well as blackmail.

“At least you had the forethought to shower before you came to find me. You reeked last night.”

He leaned into her as he moved her dark hair to one side, molding their bodies tighter together as he planted a kiss on her exposed shoulder. “I’m sorry, baby. I know how sensitive you get to smells now.” He rubbed her stomach affectionately and she could hear the real apology in his voice.

Since the day she’d found out she was pregnant, Negan had been amazingly supportive of all her pregnancy ailments. He rolled with the punches and accommodated to a lot of things in the early months. She’d had morning sickness for weeks and he’d instantly stocked the fridge with ginger ale. When the smell of cooking beef became too much, he’d stopped buying and cooking the meat until the aversion wore off. She knew how hard that was for him. Negan was a steak man. But he understood she was carrying his child and he was going to make her as comfortable as possible. His words, not hers.

“It’s not so bad anymore. Although we’ll need to wash the sheets. I think whiskey was spewing out of your pores this morning.” She laughed as he released another groan, his large frame cocooning against her as she continued to cook.

“Don’t say whiskey.” He muttered gruffly.

Camilla moved his now cooked eggs to a plate and turned off all the burners. She turned in his arms, her own coming to rest around his neck. The only way she could reach was because he was hunched so far down. His face was a little off in color, but for the most part he appeared relatively normal, save for the miserable look reflecting in his eyes.

“Coffee?”

He nodded and she moved to pour a cup, dressing it the way he liked. Two sugars. No milk or cream. She handed the mug to him and watched as he took a sip, his eyes closing in pleasure.

“Thank you, baby.”

The raspy quality of his voice was doing things to her and she was fighting hard against the urge to let him take her over the counter.

She moved to stand in front of him again, craning her neck upward to meet his gaze. “Did you at least win last night?” She asked, an eyebrow arched in question.

“Fuck no. Rick and Ezekiel cleaned everybody out.” Negan pouted, his hands setting the cup of coffee behind her and coming to rest dangerously low on her back.

She tutted disapprovingly up at him, shaking her head in mock condemnation. “Momma doesn’t like losers.” She provoked, arms encircling his neck once again.

His eyebrows shot up and that gleam she loved so much appeared in his hazel eyes. “Will Momma let me make it up to her?” He asked huskily, his mouth already descending to the bare flesh of her neck.

Camilla allowed him access, unable to fight against the strong attraction her vagina was currently experiencing towards him. He’d come into the kitchen wearing a clean white t-shirt and low-hanging grey sweatpants. He may feel miserable, but he was oozing sex and her hormones were picking up on it.

“Maybe.” She finally breathed out, her heartbeat pounding in her ears as Negan continued to lather her neck with sensual kisses. His hands slid to her ass, pushing her into him gently. She could feel the situation fast-approaching the point of no return and she begrudgingly pulled away.

“Hungry?” She asked, hoping to diffuse the tension. Her question only fueled it. 

“Fucking starving.” Negan replied with a lavish lick of his lips, his eyes feasting on her body from top to bottom. The man had a way of making her feel completely naked while fully clothed. It was a real talent.

His hands went to pull her to his lips but she put a hand to his chest to stop him. “I made you breakfast.” She gestured to the food behind her and watched as his eyes took in the feast.

“You’re too fucking good to me, baby…” He trailed off as he kissed her. The kiss represented a different type of desire than the one that’d been present moments before. The kiss was sweet and filled with pure love. It was a thank you; a token of appreciation.

Camilla was breathless once they pulled apart, her fists tangled in the fabric of his shirt. She looked up at him between her lashes and she knew she looked completely dumbstruck.

“God, you are fucking gorgeous.” He whispered with an air of awe. The sincerity and seriousness of his tone made her blush, something she didn’t think she was capable of anymore since being married to Negan.

“You know,” She started, hands caressing the salt and pepper scruffiness that adorned his cheek. “This is exactly how I got pregnant. You flattering me and me letting you ravage me all over this house.”

He chuckled at her words. “I’m a man of many talents.”

“Except at winning poker.” She quipped with a smirk, enjoying his reaction. His eyebrow rose in amusement and surprise, his tongue poking into the side of his cheek.

“You’re full of jokes today, aren’t you?” He didn’t give her a chance to reply before he was hovering dangerously close to her lips. “I guess I still got some making up to do with Momma so I’ll let it slide.”

She smiled up at him, feeling his hands start to pull at the shirt she wore. His calloused hands felt delicious against her skin as he caressed her thighs. Again the situation was veering off course, but she was tired of fighting it. If she wanted to fuck her husband multiple times a day and accomplish nothing else, then she was fucking going to. He’d just have to adjust and keep up, you know, for the baby.

“Seeing you carrying my kid has made me the horniest son of a bitch.” He mumbled against her neck. Camilla moaned, her body receiving his attention willingly; nearly begging for it. It was as if he hadn’t just fucked her into oblivion the day before, which he had.

“Carrying your kid has made me the horniest son of a bitch.” She retorted breathlessly. Her hands moved under the fabric of his shirt, eager to feel bare flesh. He was solid where she was soft. He was hard edges where she was delicate curves. They complimented each other and yet, in many ways they were the same.

“Filthy fucking mouth on you…” He teasingly chastised, catching her earlobe between his teeth.

“You love it.”

He thrust his hips into her, letting her feel how true her words were. She hitched her leg around his waist, eager to feel the friction. He aided her movements by holding her against him and rutting into her.

“Fuck…” She trailed off, her sensitive body already building to that familiar crescendo. Negan loved how easily responsive her body had gotten during pregnancy and he often liked to test that by making her cum multiple times. It was fun for everyone.

A thick finger eased under the waistband of her panties, reminding her of his unfinished task the night before. She gripped his wrist and placed his finger at her entrance, her hips rocking forward to take him in.

“Impatient?” He goaded. Even in his hungover state, Negan made sure he tortured her. He got off on seeing her in such a blissed out state. She felt much the same where it concerned him, but patience was not a virtue for her as of late.

Camilla sighed in frustration as he traced her flesh, unwilling to go deeper and give her what she so desperately craved.

“Negan-,” She whined, unashamed of her attitude. He knew what he was doing. 

“I love how fucking wet you get for me.” He growled as he relented and pushed past her lips to massage her soaked walls. A moan flew from her lips, loud and almost comically enthusiastic.

Her nails dug into the skin of his back as he worked her over the way she liked. Since being pregnant, she found that the need for foreplay was useless and she much preferred Negan to go hard and fast. She craved the finish without extra theatrics. And Negan being Negan, happily obliged his darling wife.

A sudden low groan and shuffling of footsteps penetrated through Camilla’s lust-fueled fog. She tried hard to concentrate on the sounds, thinking she’d made a mistake. Negan seemed none the wiser, his fingers still fucking her with ridiculous precision. Her eyes searched beyond his shoulders for the source and she caught a shadow walking towards the kitchen. She yelped and pushed at Negan’s shoulders, trying to alert him to their intruder.

“Holy shit…”

It was another groan, as if someone was in pain. Camilla realized she knew that voice and before she could pull Negan’s hand from her underwear, Simon was standing at the entryway. His clothes were rumpled and somewhat askew, as if he’d slept in them. His hair was sitting at odd angles and his skin held the same pallor Negan’s had moments before.

He didn’t seem to catch on to what he’d walked in on. One hand was rubbing at his eyes, the other holding his head as if he was in agony. Camilla was thankful of his cluelessness as she and Negan adjusted their clothes. He pulled her to stand in front of him and she rolled her eyes upon feeling his raging hard-on poke her lower back.

“Simon, what the fuck?” Negan bellowed. He was pissed and Camilla noted she was only slightly turned on by that fact. Give it time and she knew she’d be a puddle.

Simon startled at Negan’s booming voice, both eyes now wide open and alert. He looked around in confusion, his ruffled moustache making him look like a character from the Three Stooges.

“Not so loud.” Simon grumbled, cradling his head again.

“What are you doing here, asshole? How the fuck did you get in?” Negan fired back, his voice only getting louder as he spoke. Camilla put a calming hand on his arm as she stepped back, finally able to move now that her husband’s erection was gone.

“What’d you mean?” Simon asked with bewilderment, his voice ravaged by sleep and tobacco as well.

He looked hilarious in his disheveled state and Camilla struggled not to giggle. The situation almost seemed like a glimpse into the future with their family, minus the half-balding man child. Negan was in full parent mode and Camilla was trying hard to focus on why Simon was randomly in their house and not on how sexy Negan sounded reprimanding his friend.

“What do I mean?” Negan mimicked back angrily. “What the fuck are you doing here at nine in the fucking morning?”

Simon held out his arms in surrender, obviously still confused by his friend’s strong reaction to his presence. His eyes flicked to Camilla in hopes that she’d offer some assistance. She imagined she gave the same puzzled expression he wore because he went back to trying to calm her husband.

“You said I could stay. Last night.”

The words seemed to jog something for Negan because he instantly shut up. She could see he was struggling to piece the previous night together. His jaw unclenched and his tongue did that thing where it darted out and wet his lips. It’s his normal go-to move for seduction, but Camilla had noticed over the years that he also did it when he was concentrating hard on something. It was adorable.

“I got pretty hammered and you said I could crash on the sofa bed downstairs.” Simon explained, his words finally seeming to spark something in Negan.

“Shit…” He breathed out, hazel eyes meeting her onyx gaze. She could tell he thought he was in trouble, and normally he probably would’ve been. But for some ungodly reason, Camilla found the whole thing humorous.

“So let me get this straight,” She started, eyeing both men with amusement. “You both got so plastered that you-,” She pointed to Negan. “Forgot that you invited him-,” She pointed to Simon. “To stay the night in our basement.” She finished, eyes darting between the two men.

Negan had the audacity to look slightly sheepish. “Sounds about right.” He admitted, his hand rubbing at the back of his neck guiltily. “Fuck, sorry baby.”

“Yeah, sorry Camilla.” Simon chimed in. To his credit he did look apologetic, even though it wasn’t his fault.

“It’s fine.” She waved them off with a laugh, but eyed Negan with a look that said he still had some groveling to do.

“I should head out.” Simon interrupted, suddenly looking embarrassed by the situation. He went to leave, but Camilla stopped him.

“No, stay. I made breakfast and you should eat before you drive.” She demanded, unwilling to take no for an answer. He looked to Negan, as if for confirmation but Camilla interjected. “Get Simon a cup of coffee, will you?” She directed to Negan. He knew better than to say otherwise and moved to the cupboard for a mug. Seemed like she had the parent thing down too.

“Stay, Simon. Have a cup of coffee. A bite to eat. Say your goodbyes. Because my wife is going to kick my ass once you leave.” Negan joked, though she could see he was half serious.

Simon chuckled and moved to sit at their dining table, gratefully accepting the warm coffee Negan handed to him.

Camilla scoffed and shoved at Negan’s shoulder. “Overdramatic much?” She teased as she moved to make Simon a plate of food, turning the burners on once again so she could scrounge up more for herself. She went to start about cooking again when she belatedly noticed what she was wearing. Suddenly, the length of her shirt felt too short and the tightness across her belly and breasts felt too revealing.

“Ummm...I’m gonna go change first.” She announced, garnering the attention of the two men sitting at the table. Negan seemed to catch on to her sudden awkwardness and jumped into action.  

“Have some fucking respect, man. Close your eyes.” Negan admonished with a light shove to Simon’s shoulder. Camilla shook her head. Discreet her husband was not.

“Not necessary now, Negan.” She deadpanned, but Simon was already holding a hand to his face to shield his eyes.

“Sorry!” Simon called out, looking ridiculous with half his face blocked from view. The image made her laugh.

“No worries. I’m gonna go change. You guys help yourself.” She gestured to the food and moved towards their bedroom. She could hear Negan get up and say something before he was following her down the hall.

“Need help?”

Camilla pulled off her night shirt and started to put on a black bra. She turned to answer her husband who was leaning in the doorway looking sexy as fuck.

“Sure.”

She turned her back towards him and waited. His footsteps moved closer until he was standing with his chest practically pressed against her back. His warm hands pulled the two halves of her bra together, clipping the clasps in a few swift movements. She adjusted her ever-growing breasts in the cups and turned to face him. 

“Thanks.”

He was eyeing her with a glint in his orbs that made her thighs clench. He knew he had some recent missteps and he was apparently going to try to make it up to her now. 

“I’m sorry for being a drunk piece of shit last night.” He apologized as he reached for her. She let him pull her in his arms, soaking up his affection like a house cat.

“I’m not mad, Negan. I’m annoyed. And it’s not because you got drunk.” Camilla explained against his wide chest. He pulled her chin so that her face was angled towards his, her lips ripe for the taking.

His questioning gaze made her continue on.

“Do you know what it does to a pregnant woman when you don’t finish what you start?”

Again he said nothing, but his eyes lit up and his lips cracked a wide grin.

“You can’t do that to me! I’m ready to cum if I sneeze at this point.” She grumbled, not liking the way he was finding amusement in her pain. Though she supposed she deserved it for her teasing of him earlier. Karma was in fact a real bitch.

“Oh my poor nymphomaniac…” Negan cooed, his hands cradling her head against his chest like he was comforting her.

“Not funny, dick.” She pushed away from him and went to finish getting dressed when he tugged her to him. He caught her just before she slammed against him, but it was enough to throw her off balance. His hands were suddenly everywhere. One was palming her ass while the other made its way under the lace of her panties and into her depths.

“Daddy owes you one.” He taunted, two fingers deep in her pussy while another teased her clit. She dug her nails into his shoulders, making sure he felt the sting of pain. He did.

“Negan,” She began, unable to focus on stringing her words together. “Simon is in…fuck…” She felt her walls start to flutter around his fingers, felt his lips suction against her heaving breast, felt his hand dig into the flesh of her ass.

“Don’t worry about it, baby. Lemme take care of you.”

His words set her off. She froze and tightened around him, sparks of light dancing behind her eyelids. His smell engulfed her. His touch set her on fire. His voice encouraged her. She was finally reaching that crescendo that’d been just out of reach. Her muscles spasmed and Negan’s hot breath in her ear made her whimper, her walls soaking him to capacity.

“Goddamn…I’ll never get sick of seeing you like that.” He mumbled against her now flushed skin, his grip loosening. He gently eased out of her, careful of how sensitive she was.

Camilla gasped at the loss of him, but felt her insides hum with life again when he licked himself clean of her.

“Bastard.” She said in faux aggravation. His teasing was merciless and she planned on making him pay for his sins later.

“Aw…you say the sweetest things to me.” He laughed, mirth dancing in his eyes. “No thank you?”

Camilla pouted her lips, her signal to let him know she wanted a kiss. He delivered. His tongue danced with hers, her lips devouring his like he was the sweetest chocolate to hit her taste buds. Her fingers ran through his hair and she nibbled on his lip just the way he liked. He responded by rubbing against her, his dick hard and ready to feel her clasping at him.

They pulled apart and Camilla mentally patted herself on the back when she saw the goofy look Negan was wearing.

“Thank you.” She said, lips now swollen and chaffed from his stubble. She walked around him and picked out a pair of sweats and a t-shirt to change into.

“Smartass.” Negan retorted, eyes watching her dress like he hadn’t just finger fucked her minutes before.

She smiled triumphantly as she pulled her shirt over her head, ignoring the way he feasted on her half-dressed body. Being pregnant was certainly having an effect on her husband’s libido too. You’d think he had pregnancy hormones coursing his veins.

She finished dressing and turned to face him, waving him towards the door. “Come on. Your son is hungry.”

Negan immediately attached himself to her rounded stomach, caressing her flesh as if their son was already in his arms.

“You sit and I’ll make you a plate.” He gently demanded. Camilla wasn’t going to argue, especially when her heart still stuttered after he said and did such sweet things for her.

They walked hand-in-hand to the kitchen, but upon turning the corner they found the room empty.

“Where’d he go?” She asked, though she knew her husband had about as much of an idea as she did.

Negan walked to the table where Simon had been sitting and grabbed a piece of paper she hadn’t noticed. She watched as he read whatever words were printed on the sheet before laughing heartily.

“What’s it say? Is it from Simon?” She questioned, eager to know what he found so funny. He handed her the note and she read it silently.

Took a plate to go. You guys took too long and by the sounds Camilla was making, I’m guessing you didn’t need me to stick around anyways. Thanks for letting me crash and the food.

Camilla wanted to be mortified, but couldn’t conjure up the emotion. Instead, she laughed along with Negan, clutching the paper to her chest.

“Oh my god…” She said between giggles.

“Well, guess he got more than he fucking bargained for.” Negan chuckled, pulling Camilla with him onto his lap as he sat in a chair.

“Guess so.” She agreed, nestling herself into Negan’s chest and neck. Her eyes suddenly felt heavy and her limbs felt utterly relaxed. Negan’s hand in her hair didn’t help matters either. His heartbeat sounded beneath her, the warmth of him further soothing her.

“Need a nap?” His chest rumbled against her as he spoke. She was tired, but the promise of food still kept her conscious.

“Food first.” She mumbled, fingers playing with the hem of his t-shirt. They sat in comfortable silence until a movement within her belly made her smile. She wordlessly placed Negan’s hand on the spot where their child was making his presence known. She didn’t have to look up to see the smile that adorned his face. She could feel it. She had the image painted in her mind for eternity.

“I fucking love you. Both of you.”

Camilla squeezed his hand that sat beneath hers. Her heart felt like it doubled in size in that moment. As hot as the fire of desire burned for him, the extent of their love was immeasurable. It was what made their two souls partners in life. It was what had made a family. 

“I love you too.”

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Keto Zero While following keto, you're urged to eat as much fat as you need, regardless of the source (e.g., spread, olive oil, meats, cheeses), until you feel full. Fat can have a solid satiety impact, however following this proposal may not be agreeable for everybody. As indicated by ongoing exploration, greasy nourishments may expand sentiments of queasiness and swelling for certain individuals. Past potential physical distress, it likewise probably won't be sincerely agreeable for everybody—all things considered, keto is as yet a prohibitive eating routine, which regularly is anything but a decent decision for anybody with a disarranged relationship to nourishment and eating.

Also, similarly as with any prohibitive dietary arrangement, following a ketogenic diet can introduce difficulties with regards to social events, festivities, office parties, dinners out, and so forth. Keto Zero It likewise may be important to confine or maintain a strategic distance from socially significant nourishments on the eating routine so as to remain in ketosis. For still others it will be hard to support on the grounds that carbs aren't just flavorful, they're ubiquitous. Staying away from them everyday methods critical feast prep and arranging, and getting ready for get-togethers that incorporate nourishment or eating.

Keto Zero Before we plunge further into weight reduction, a note: Weight misfortune isn't for everyone, nor is following a particular, prohibitive eating plan. In the event that you will probably get more fit, that is fine, however your wellbeing matters in excess of a number on a scale (and on the off chance that you have a past filled with disarranged eating, you ought to talk about any designs to change your eating routine with a specialist first). What's more, fruitful long haul weight reduction is the result of numerous elements: Your physical movement, how much rest you get, stress the executives, and different components like clinical issues and hormones all assume a significant job. What you eat is only one piece of the weight reduction puzzle.

On the off chance that you have been searching for a weight reduction plan, nonetheless, you've presumably known about one of the ketogenic diet's greatest specialties: the fast outcomes it as Keto Zero far as anyone knows produces. A few people report losing as much as 10 pounds in the initial fourteen days. Be that as it may, this weight reduction is probably going to be for the most part water weight, not fat dissolving ceaselessly, which means you remain to recover it once you recharge liquids. The ketogenic diet can go about as a diuretic, causing water misfortune from glycogen stockpiling in the liver, muscles, and fat cells. Remember that for a great many people, about ½ pound to 2 pounds for each week is viewed as protected.

Keto Zero By and large, 2 additional pounds contrasted with the individuals who followed lowfat ones. In any case, a few specialists state that weight reduction from a keto diet presumably isn't from a points of interest about the eating routine itself. On the off chance that the ketogenic diet helps weight reduction, says Brian St. Pierre, R.D., chief of execution nourishment at Precision Nutrition, this is on the grounds that it may empower a few people to keep up a caloric shortage.

"I let people realize that the ketogenic diet approach can completely work, however it's not through some enchantment of carb limitation. Keto works for certain people since they appreciate fat-rich nourishments, discover them fulfilling, and feel their best eating along these lines. Keto Zero This permits them to control their general admission and fuel their action," says St. Pierre. Keep in mind: Just in light of the fact that something accommodates your macros doesn't mean it's too refreshing and giving a parity of supplements. High utilization of specific nourishments (like franks, bacon, and other handled meats) and under utilization of more beneficial food sources (nuts, seeds, vegetables, organic product, entire grains) are connected with certain wellbeing conditions and passing from coronary illness, stroke, and type 2 diabetes, and that is imperative to remember regardless of whether we don't really have a causal connection or suggested limit.

Keto Zero The American Heart Association's suggestions for controlling cholesterol incorporate getting more fiber and constraining your admission of soaked fat, the two of which would be incredibly troublesome on a ketogenic diet. While the facts demonstrate that examination around soaked fat is as yet developing, preparing for good wellsprings of fiber and unsaturated fats, which diminish the danger of cardiovascular malady, and taking into consideration a progressively adjusted admission of supplements, is perfect. Regardless, you should check with your PCP before you start a ketogenic (or any new) diet, particularly on the off chance that you have any wellbeing conditions like hypertension or elevated cholesterol.

What's more, in spite of the fact that for the time being, ketogenic consumes less calories appear to be ok for sound individuals, we likewise need long haul information on the eating routine, Keto Zero so it's difficult to affirm long haul security with sureness. Intricacies seen with kids keeping up a ketogenic diet for epilepsy, for instance, included kidney stones, obstruction, gastrointestinal issues, pancreatitis, and nutrient D and calcium lacks.

Keto Zero the off chance that starches—either handled bundled desserts or nutritious entire nourishments—are your jam, the ketogenic diet will, best case scenario, take some becoming acclimated to. What's more, even under the least favorable conditions, it could be an absolute nonstarter. The eating routine will essentially direct you away from nourishments that have included sugar, are calorically thick, and don't offer much in the method for sustenance, similar to treats, cakes, white bread, sugary grains, fries, chips, cracke

Eating all the fat you need seems like a heavenly method to get in shape—yet is it worth giving up carbs?Odds are you, you've heard some quite enormous cases about the ketogenic diet."Keto consumes fat quick! It turbo-charges your vitality! It battles malady! You can eat all the bacon you need!" Big names like to rave about the low-sugar diet. Keto Zero On Instagram, Vinny Guadagnino, who passes by Keto Guido, shares keto plans and tips that helped him shed 50 pounds. Be that as it may, is this promotion unrealistic? With no guarantees so regularly the case with eats less carbs, underneath all the underlying fervor, there's a gut check. Here's all that you should know whether you're a fledgling to the keto diet and need to decide whether it merits yielding carbs.

Keto Zero Ketogenesis has existed as long as people have. On the off chance that you eat an extremely low measure of sugars, you keep your cerebrum from glucose, its primary fuel source. Your body despite everything needs fuel to work, so it takes advantage of your hold of ketones, which are exacerbates the liver makes from fat when blood insulin is low. This procedure is known as ketosis: It resembles when a half breed vehicle comes up short on gas and returns to unadulterated power. Keto Zero "Your liver produces ketones constantly, however the rate relies upon starch and protein consumption," says Jeff Volek, Ph.D., R.D., a teacher of human sciences at Ohio State University. At the point when most of your eating regimen is comprised of carbs and protein, ketogenesis eases back. Supplanting carbs and protein with fat will place your body into ketosis, in this manner increase ketone creation. Basically, you're consuming fat rather than carbs for vitality. This procedure takes around three days to initiate.

Keto Zero Wouldn't you be able to take ketone supplements? No. While it is conceivable to hoist ketones by taking them, "without the low-carb improvement, there is no net increment in ketone creation, no lessening in insulin, and no net increment in fat oxidation," says Volek. Try not to confide in coaches or "body programmers" who state you can prompt ketosis rapidly without changing your eating regimen. Keto Zero A ketogenic diet necessitates that fat contain 60 to 80 percent of your all out calories. Protein makes up around 20 percent, while 10 percent originates from carbs. As a rule, it's ideal to keep carb admission between 20-30 grams for every day so as to look after ketosis. That is what could be compared to about a large portion of a medium bagel.

Keto Zero In the event that this seems like Atkins, it's nearby, however "ketogenic eats less carbs will in general be increasingly extreme in carb limitation and have a progressively moderate protein limitation," says Spencer Nadolsky, D.O., creator of The Fat Loss Prescription. In spite of the fact that you can eat bacon on a ketogenic diet, the remainder of the range is constrained. Dull vegetables like potatoes, corn, and squash are excessively high in carbs. Same with most natural products. Milk, beans, rice, pasta, bread: probably not.

In any case, bacon is still vigorously prepared and has been connected to an expanded danger of malignancy and coronary illness, so you might not have any desire to eat it at each feast. Keto Zero To remain as sound as could be expected under the circumstances, keto calorie counters ought to eat a lot of low-carb vegetables like red chime pepper, kale and cauliflower. Most men expend almost 50% of their calories from carbs, as indicated by the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, which means slicing your admission to under 10 percent will be a test.

Keto Zero Despite the fact that reviews have demonstrated that the keto diet can decrease seizures for kids with epilepsy, there is no proof showing that keto assists with other cerebrum issue or improves mental cognizance, as per Harvard Health Publishing. A few investigations show that keto may bring down glucose for individuals with type 2 diabetes, however there isn't sufficient long haul research to decide if it's protected and compelling for diabetics. With regards to weight reduction, "there is no doubt that ketosis accomplishes work for the time being," Dr. Konstantinos Spaniolas, Associate Director of the Stony Brook Metabolic and Bariatric Weight Loss Center in New York, .

Sadly, there's no drawn out information on ketogenic slims down versus different weight control plans Keto Zero In a 2015 Italian examination, those on a ketosis diet shed 26 pounds in a quarter of a year. About portion of the members remained on the eating routine for a year however lost minimal extra weight in the following nine months. Individuals in a 2014 Spanish investigation who followed an extremely low-calorie ketogenic diet lost a normal of 44 pounds in a year—however 33% of them dropped out, potentially in light of the fact that it was too difficult to even think about maintaining.

Keto Zero in any case, there is proof that low-carb diets may build digestion, as indicated by a paper distributed November 14 in BMJ. Analysts found that overweight grown-ups who brought down starches and included progressively fat into their weight control plans consumed around 250 calories more every day than individuals on high-carb, low-fat eating regimens. The investigation is amazing in light of the fact that it's the biggest, generally costly, and controlled investigation of its sort.

For this investigation, 164 overweight grown-ups followed slims down made up of either 60, 40 or 20 percent starches. Keto Zero What makes this examination remarkable is that all members were provided with breakfast, lunch, supper and bites, which means nourishment quality was predictable among individuals in each gathering.

Keto Zero Study co-creator Cara Ebbeling, PhD., of the Boston Children's Hospital accepts the examination demonstrates that getting more fit isn't simply an issue of checking calories. Our perceptions challenge the conviction that all calories are the equivalent to the body," said Ebbeling in an announcement. "Our examination didn't gauge craving and satiety, yet different investigations propose that low-carb consumes less calories likewise decline hunger, which could help with weight reduction in the long haul."

Individuals who start the eating regimen regularly create "Keto Flu," as their bodies get familiar with eating less carbs. Keto Zero During this time you may encounter cerebral pains, sickness, fogginess, muscle spasms and exhaustion. Indications last about seven days, however remaining hydrated and getting sufficient rest will help with issues and fatigue.

Keto Zero Flu, you may see a couple of other disagreeable reactions. CH3)2CO — indeed, the fixing in nail clean remover — is one of the mixes found in ketones, so your breath might be stinkier than ordinary. Crapping might be troublesome since cutting carbs will bring down fiber consumption, however a fiber supplement will help keep you normal. Without a doubt, eating bacon and cheddar may seem like a fantasy yet accomplishing ketosis isn't simple, says Registered Dietitian Melanie Boehmer of Lenox Hill Hospital. Once in a while people attempt and waver into it and they won't bring down their sugars enough," Keto Zero she recently told Men'sHealth.com. She suggests eating close to 20-30 grams of sugars for each day to keep up the ketogenic state.

Keto Zero Regularly individuals figure they can eat boundless measures of meat on the eating regimen, yet that isn't accurate. Devouring an excess of protein will likewise diminish ketone levels. heat days, regardless of whether they are uncommon, and drinking liquor can remove you from ketosis, as well. You can decide if you're very ketosis by buying an over-the-counter test. Be that as it may, they're not constantly exact, cautions Ginger Hultin, MS, RDN, CSO, representative for the Academy of Nutrition and Dietetics.

They sell testing strips for pee, however those can get bogus peruses for various reasons, similar to hydration levels," Keto Zero she recently disclosed to Men's Health.What's more, those intense reactions, similar to terrible breath, are a decent pointer that you're in fat-consuming mode. In any case, they'll just be useful in the first place since signs vanish once your body is acclimated with the new eating regimen.While the buzz is by all accounts warming up around the ketogenic diet, the eating reasoning isn't new. Actually, it's been utilized as a treatment for epilepsy since the 1920s and returned into the spotlight during the '90s when Dateline ran a portion featuring it as a treatment choice. Keto Zero However, how could it go from epilepsy treatment to weight reduction routine? All things considered, first off, increasingly more celebs — including Vanessa Hudgens and Halle Berry — have as of late applauded its weight reduction results openly.

Keto Zero So what is the ketogenic diet? It's a high-fat, low-carb diet that sends your body into a condition of ketosis, during which it utilizes put away fat as vitality. At the point when you eat along these lines — commonly we're talking under 50 grams of sugars a day — "you'll devour a huge measure of fat," says Shahzadi Devje, RD, CDE, a dietitian in Toronto, Canada. Truth be told, by following the keto diet, around 60 to 80 percent of your day by day calories will originate from fat. At the point when you confine carbs along these lines and eat increasingly fat, your body takes around 24 to 48 hours to start delivering ketones, which are made when your body uses fat for vitality, says Pegah Jalali, MS, RD, Keto Zero a clinical facilitator at the New York University Comprehensive Epilepsy Center, where she advises patients on the ketogenic diet. Ordinarily, your body would utilize sugars as an essential wellspring of vitality.

Keto Zero A fundamental advantage of the eating routine, and why a large number of its devotees acclaim the eating plan, is weight reduction. Numerous examinations show promising outcomes: In an investigation in The American Journal of Clinical Nutrition, corpulent men dropped around 14 pounds in the wake of following the eating routine for a month. Also, in a more drawn out term study distributed in Clinical Cardiology, hefty grown-ups holding fast to a ketogenic diet for around a half year saw critical weight reduction — by and large, 32 pounds — just as decreases in complete cholesterol and increments in valuable HDL cholesterol. An audit concentrate in the European Journal of Clinical Nutrition additionally found that the weight reduction seen inside the initial three to a half year of following the keto diet was more noteworthy than the misfortune from following a standard adjusted eating style.

Weight reduction frequently happens on the Keto Zero diet in light of the fact that your body is using fat stores for vitality — and you may likewise see a diminished hunger that regularly results from the eating routine. "We don't know precisely why ketones stifle hunger," says Jalali. "In any case, my hypothesis is that ketosis is the state we are in during starvation and drawn out fasting, so it may be a transformative reaction to enable people to adapt." Plus, your body digests fat significantly more gradually than carbs. Keto Zero "Fat has a more drawn out intestinal travel time contrasted and carbs," she says. "So it will drag out that sentiment of completion, particularly in the middle of dinners." While some state following the eating routine case it is constraining at nourishment related social events, Lara Clevenger, MSH, RDN, a dietitian in Edgewater, Florida, says you can without much of a stretch arrangement ahead. "I right now follow a ketogenic diet, and eating out is significantly simpler than individuals might suspect," she says.

" Keto Zero You can request a burger short the bun and fries, in addition to a side of veggies. Or on the other hand request a culinary expert serving of mixed greens and request olive oil as your dressing, short the bread garnishes. The choices are ample!" Clevenger says she initially began the keto diet for its mitigating benefits, because of a family ancestry of stoutness, hypertension, bosom malignant growth, diabetes and dementia. "I will remain on a ketogenic diet for a long time to come," she says. "I presently have a few times more vitality, I no longer experience difficulty nodding off and staying unconscious, I am better in line with my yearning and satiety, Keto Zero and I am not, at this point dependent on sugar. The eating routine has had a greater amount of an effect than I could have envisioned!" Notwithstanding weight reduction, considers show that the ketogenic diet may likewise be useful in treating numerous different conditions, for example, type 2 diabetes, polycystic ovary disorder (PCOS), skin inflammation and that's only the tip of the iceberg.

Keto Zero "Similarly as with any eating regimen, there are consistently upsides and downsides," says Devje. On the off chance that you follow the ketogenic diet, you may see symptoms, for example, awful breath, cerebral pains, sickness and exhaustion. The negative manifestations some experience when first beginning the eating regimen is regularly alluded to as the "keto influenza." This sentiment of tiredness is because of a drop in glucose that can cause laziness, which ordinarily goes in 24 to 48 hours, notes Jalali. You may likewise feel enlarged or obstructed — and you may want to pee all the more oftentimes, since ketosis goes about as a diuretic, says Jalali. Since the ketogenic diet is constrained as far as nutrition classes, you'll be in danger for supplement lacks." Keto Zero The eating routine requires a powerful enhancement routine, since you can build up specific inadequacies on a ketogenic diet that can hinder your capacity to remain in ketosis," says Jalali. "You can likewise create micronutrient insufficiencies that can cause balding, and many individuals become obstructed on a ketogenic diet." Jalali suggests talking about the eating routine with both a doctor and a ketogenic dietitian to work to forestall these reactions.

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[stressedspidergirlsfandomblog]

PT 15

(Citrus themed mentions no action, also more torture references)

Keith glances over at Shiro, gently nudges his leg, and then sighs when he realizes the other man is half asleep.

"You really are tired, huh?"

"I'm not exactly sleeping well," he points out, voice somehow dry while mumbling.

Keith shakes his head. "Does anything help?"

Shiro turns red, and shifts some, revealing the back of his neck and shells of his ears are red, too.

Knowing Shiro had 0 embarassment related to sleeping with Adam, Keith wonders what's got him riled up. "What?" He asks, leaning forward to poke Shiro's side. "C'mon. What helps?"

More or less using his heels against the carpet to push himself out of Keith's reach he makes a protest noise. 'Don't poke me.'

Keith just laughs and scoots closer to do it again. "You never get embarrassed. C'mon spill. Does Curtis heat you up some warm milk and tuck you in? Have special fuzzy jammies? What?"

Shiro shifts again, more or less choosing to roll over rather than get up. Another irritated noise that Keith has cornered him against the coffee table, he lightly presses his leg against Keith's chest to prevent him from getting closer.

"Weren't you ticklish right behind your knee?" Keith asks, catching his ankle before he can jerk away. Then again Shiro is still stupid strong and when Keith hangs on as Shiro jerks his leg, it tugs his entire body forward and off balance. Only Shiro, with 0 leverage, 1 arm, lying down, could do something like that. Immediately shifting he settles himself on top of Keith, pinning one arm to his side with his knees.

Trying to buck Shiro off without hurting him doesn't work. In that he can't seem to get him off and when he tries to use his arm Shiro catches it and pins that, too. They're more or less at a stalemate because Keith could probably break free if he wanted to. Presuming Shiro was willing to let him without taking his pound of flesh.

"Alright you win. I give up." He lightly taps the carpet as best he can.

Shiro stands up and settles on the couch instead.

"I was only asking because as long as it meant I didn't have to fuck you, I'd be willing to try it so you could get a nap."

Shiro turns red again. "We aren't there yet." For all he won't admit some of it is that so far his body isn't working right. He probably can't do that. Or at least enjoy it as much.

Keith pauses. "You and Adam put rabbits to shame." Sometimes anyway. Not school nights.

"He lost someone, too." Shiro looks at his hand, and puts it on his knee. "In the Invasion."

"Oh."

His lip quivers. "I can't imagine what he went through." Swallowing hard, he takes a breath. "His partner died buried under rubble before they could dig him out." He has no idea there's tears on his cheeks or that he's squeezing his knee so hard his whole hand is white. "Curtis tried to get him out. Kept digging even after he suffocated." His breathing hitches and his voice cracks. "He told me the doctors said there was no way, it wouldn't have mattered. He was already crushed from the rib cage down... They're not even sure how he survived long enough to call for help." Shiro doesn't realize he's shaking. "Curtis says he kept promising to dig him out, and saying he loved him, and that it'd be okay. He broke most of his fingers, shredded the skin so bad he needed grafts, and broke his forearm trying to shift the rubble. Inhaled a lot of smoke and dust, too." Sobbing softly, "I can't imagine anything worse... To be so close and not even know... To think there was hope and not get to say goodbye... " Releasing his leg he drags a hand over his face, surprised to find tears. "I couldn't survive that. I don't know how he gets out of bed every day."

Keith puts an arm around Shiro's shoulders. "Is he not ready to move on?" He asks, trying to be sympathetic. He has similar nightmares about his father burning alive. Trying to fight the fire and not making it in time. Now he wonders if he'll be digging, too.

"He is. He's over the man, if not the tragedy." Pinching the bridge of his nose, he squeezes his eyes shut trying to stop the tears. It doesn't work. "I'm not ready either. I still don't feel like this body is mine. I didn't before, either, even when it was. I can't remember where half these scars came from. I don't wanna ... Make love... And not feel like it's me doing it."

"Which scars?" Keith asks softly. He's only seen the one on Shiro's face. He's felt the ones on his back.

Shiro looks at him, and takes a breath. He pulls up the hem of his tank top and drags it over his head. Keith blanks his face. Don't react. He waits as Shiro shifts, facing away. Keith blinks rapidly.

"How many times?" He asks softly, reaching out to touch Shiro's back. Trace so many scarred over lacerations he can't count. Some were on top of each other, he can tell. Only the start or the end splitting away from the center tells him it isn't just one giant gash.

"I can't remember," Shiro whispers. "I just remember saying 'no' the once. They stripped me down and whipped me till I passed out."

Keith looks again, some of the scarring trails past the waistband of his pajama pants. Lightly touching the worst one, it had to have gone down to the bone. Maybe even damaged the spine. Shiro breaks out in goosebumps.

"Then they woke me up. And kept going. I think they jabbed me in the side with some kind of taser, it's so fuzzy. The pain was so bad."

Keith lightly touches his side, looking for any kind of burn scar, nothing's there. Shiro locks up and Keith kicks himself mentally. He knows he just triggered some kind of flashback. A waking nightmare. "Idiot," he hisses at himself.

Shiro's pupils are blown and he breaks out in a light sweat. His breathing changes and Keith knows he's back, sort of. He's seen a lot of panic attacks now, for all he hasn't seen Shiro have one. There's something they're supposed to count or do.

"Hey, look at me. What else can you see?"

"Blood," Shiro whispers, tears filling his eyes.

"No, look at me. There's no blood. There's nothing red in this apsttment, even. What do you see right now in this room?"

"Couch... A couch. Carpet. Um... Coffee table," his voice shakes.

"Good. Good. What do you feel? Three things you can feel?"

"You, couch... Cold."

Keith looks down and realizes he'd reached out at some point without noticing. They're clasping forearms and Shiro is going to leave him with an ugly bruise.

"Okay, something you hear."

Shiro flinches like he's been struck. Then focuses his eyes on Keith. "You breathing... The upstairs apartment has water running... My heart pounding." He's already a little calmer.

"Uh, last one I think. Something you can smell."

Inhaling deeply, his nostrils flare and he tries to center himself. "Bacon. You used my soap..." Which isn't accusatory he just smells it on Keith.

"I'm so sorry. I had no idea I'd trigger anything."

"It's fine." Shiro closes his eyes, tears streaming out from under the lids. "I fought back," he smiles beatifically. "I resisted." He hadn't just gone along with it after the first time. He hadn't broken instantly.

"I fought back and refused to execute people no matter what they did to me," he whispers. "I only stopped when they realized torturing the prisoners to death in front of me was worse than them torturing me. I could take any pain they dished out. I couldn't watch them skin someone alive.

"They made sure I would be in the room when they did it. Tied me up and made me watch. It was faster and kinder if I just killed who they told me to." He runs a hand through his hair, gripping it. "She didn't stop screaming for hours and I couldn't take it back. I've never been so sick in my life. I begged to trade places with her. Promised to kill her. Anything to make it stop. Make them stop hurting her."

Keith looks away. He can't keep his face blank after that. He wraps his arms around Shiro and hides his face in the other man's shoulders. Shiro hugs him back, breathing rough and uneven. "We shoulda just gone back to sleep," Keith says roughly. For all that's twice now he's seen something ugly around Shiro drop away.

"Probably."

"You never did answer my question."

"And I never will," Shiro mutters. He's not going to admit that sleeping next to Curtis and being able to hear or feel his heartbeat makes him feel safe. Just being held, and loved is healing in and of itself. His favorite 'position' with Curtis is his head on the other man's chest above his heart. He also likes being the little spoon, if he's being honest. He was usually the big spoon with Adam. Not always. Not on bad days. But then again he feels like most days are bad, now.

"We should get you some stuff for your apartment."

"No need. Curtis kinda asked if I might wanna move in with him when his lease is up."

"Ooh." Keith feels like Lance or Hunk would love this conversation. He just feels silly trying to act normal. He has no idea how to navigate this conversation. He's glad. He's not sure if it's too soon or not. But he's seen the way they look at each other. It's right. They fit right.

"I'm clearing out a drawer for him in case he sleeps here."

"Does he complain it's like sleeping with Dracula?"

"Dracula lived in an opulent castle, Keith. See, id you hadn't failed your literature classes and then gotten expelled, you'd know that."

"I know the doctor is the monster."

"Everyone knows that. Even Lance knows that."

"No way."

"Yeah he knows."

"You willing to bet on it?"

"Not anymore," Shiro mutters. "But I'm still right." He glances at the clock over the stove. "We have about an hour and a half before we have to leave."

"You just wanna lie down?" Keith asks. "Or are you telling me to set an alarm?"

"Both?" Shiro yawns so hard his jaw cracks.

"Stay out here? I'll get you a blanket. Will the holo bug you if it's on?"

"Nah."

Keith gets up and drags the comforter off the bed and a pillow. There's nothing on the couch. Settling himself against the arm rest he drops the pillow on his lap, still holding onto the comforter which he's bunched up against his chest. Shiro eyes him warily but chooses to lie down anyway. Keith tosses the blanket over him and they both settle into comfortable positions.

Flipping on the holo, he watches whatever he wants, one hand resting on Shiro's shoulder the whole time. Pidge supposedly has some kind of surprise waiting for them.

Shiro's asleep in seconds. Constant nightmares and emotional exhaustion sucking him under immediately. Keith dozes off and on. The last 48 hours have been a hell of an emotional rollercoaster for both of them.

[sympathyfortheblinderdevil]

Serious Things: Chapter 2

While on the road to meet Capone, Arthur meets Mollie and finds that he has a connection with her. Tommy acts like a diva when he finds out that some things are beyond his control.

Arthur doesn’t get enough fic love, and I seek to change that.

Serious Things: Chapter 1

Cicadas were making an almighty racket, splitting Tommy’s head with a ferocity rivaled only by the thought of being trapped in Yemassee a second longer. Blinded by a sun that he was not accustomed to, frustrated by an isolation unfathomable to him before this trip, and horribly hungover, he snapped at the old man stood before him in oil-stained overalls and shite caked boots.

“Two days!” Tommy shouted his expression a picture of rage. He put his hands on his hips and fixed the mechanic with a glare that could freeze the demons out of hell. 

 “Yep, and gettin’ all het up ain’t gonna make it come any quicker.” The mechanic drawled, wiping his greasy hands on a shop rag. “I’d be happy to give ye a tire off my own truck, but it ain’t gonna fit that there Dusenburg. They gotta special order it, Mr. Shelby.”

 Nino intervened, concerned that the congeniality of the old man would wear thin if Tommy continued to rant. “Thank you, sir. Please, make the necessary arrangements.” He handed the man a ten dollar bill and turned back to Tommy who was smoking furiously and flexing his jaw muscles in between drags. 

 “Tommy, look, I know you’re pissed off, but you can’t take it out on the locals. They all know the score; they’re used to seeing Capone’s associates come through their town, but we don’t need to go looking for attention.”

 “How the fook did this happen, eh? The car was fine yesterday,” Tommy growled. Sweat had beaded out on his forehead and was soaking through the back of his waistcoat, and it was only 8:00 am. “Now we’re stuck in this godforsaken hole for two more days.” Tommy turned the nail that the mechanic had found in the tire over and over between his fingers. “I’ll bet Arthur had something to do with this. A nail in the tire is an old family trick.”

 “Nah. I think Arthur’s been too busy to sabotage our progress. That Mollie really took a shine to him.”

 ***

 Arthur woke up to the smell of hot coffee. He blinked, unsure of his surroundings in the light, but the memory of soft green eyes and tangled auburn hair shining in the dim glow of an oil lamp soon brought his location into focus. After spending some time getting to know each other, Molly had taken Arthur’s hand and led him to her two-room shack behind the cafe. 

 Her sheets smelled of her perfume, and Arthur stretched beneath them, trying to recall where he had left his pants. Just then, Mollie appeared in the doorway in a filmy white cotton gown, a mug of coffee in each hand. She stepped into a beam of sunlight as she entered the room, and Arthur hummed appreciatively as the gown became transparent and revealed the outline of her body. She flicked Arthur’s drawers up onto the bed with her foot, “Lookin’ for these?” She giggled. 

 “Nah. I thought I’d spend the day in me altogether,” he chuckled as he shimmied them on and gratefully took a piping hot mug from her hand. 

 Mollie leaned against the bedpost and sipped at her coffee, admiring Arthur’s sinewy body. He had skin as pale as milk with a scattering of cinnamon freckles. She licked her lips as she remembered the way his skin tasted. “We have cake for breakfast, ‘less you’d rather have eggs and bacon. I can slip into the kitchen of the cafe and grab some if you’d like.”

 Arthur felt the outside world melt away when she spoke to him. He could listen to her low country drawl all day. “Cake will be perfect, dear.” Arthur cleared his throat and patted the narrow bed, prompting Mollie to sit down. “Mollie, I have to leave soon. Tommy is probably champing at the bit to go already.” He took her hand and cast his eyes down. 

 “I know,” she whispered, “and it’s alright.” Mollie reached up and caressed his cheek. 

 “I wish things were different. I’ve really liked my time with you...uh, and not just the relations.” He nodded toward the bed as he spoke.

 “Me too, Arthur. You are a wonderful man. I wish you didn’t have to go so soon, but I understood what I was getting into when I,” She blushed and searched for the right word, “brought you here.”

 “C’mere, love,” Arthur murmured and pulled her down into the bed. She lay her head on his chest, her hair fanning out over his pale, freckled skin. A single salty tear trickled across her cheek before falling to Arthur’s collarbone. She trailed her fingers through the pale thatch of hair on his chest and traced the lines of his tattoo, wishing that they could have one more night together.

 “If things were different, I could get used to having you around.” He softly spoke, and he meant it. Arthur had been into snow and whores for so long that he had forgotten what it was like to make love with a woman who was there out of passion and tenderness of feeling, not just because she was paid to be there. Mollie was no angel, but she was with him because she wanted him; she was attracted to the sparkle in his eyes and charm in his smile. She had no expectations of him, financial or otherwise, and she made him feel things that he had never felt before. It was more than just sex; something magical had taken place. 

 One night of passion had done this to them. They had tumbled into her bed as soon as they reached her home, and when it was over, they had stayed up late into the night talking. Arthur told her about his family and explained his scars and tattoos, and she told him the story of how she had come to live in a little shack behind a cafe in Yemassee, South Carolina.

 Her family moved around too much for her to bear. Most of the year they worked at fairs and carnivals throughout the south, and she longed for a settled life. Since her family had roots in Yemasee at one time, she figured it was as good a place as any. She got a job at the café, rented the little shack behind it, and that was that. After she told him her story, they held each other all through the night, neither wanting to let go. Everything felt easy, like they had known each other for years.

Afraid that she would fall to pieces if she laid there any longer, Mollie wiped her eyes and sat up. She gave Arthur a little smile over her shoulder, “I’ll get us some more coffee and a slice of hummingbird cake.” As she moved about in the kitchen, getting plates and forks, she heard frantic whispering coming from just outside the door.

 “Mollie, Mollie Girl,” a voice hissed from behind a row of hackberry bushes.

“Who is that?” Arthur whispered to Mollie.

“It’s my next door neighbor’s daughter,” she told Arthur. She rolled her pretty green eyes and smiled. Mollie stepped out onto the porch and spoke to the bushes, “Come on out from there. What is it Pearl?”

“They’s a white man, named Mista Shelby. He’s mad mad. He say he’s lookin’ fo a Mista Arthur Shelby. You ain’t got him back here wi’chu, do you?”

Pearl looked up at Mollie with big brown eyes framed by glossy black lashes. She wore a light green shift dress that was about a size too big for her. It had been Mollie’s, like many of the clothes Pearl wore. Unfortunately, they didn’t share a shoe size, and so she stood barefooted in the sandy dirt waiting for an answer.

“The man that’s with him, Mista Nino, gave me a nickel to run see if Mista Arthur Shelby was back here. They think he is.”

Arthur walked out onto Mollie’s small porch, and Pearl covered her mouth to hide a smile. She quickly looked down. Arthur held his hand out to her, “I’m pleased to meet you, Miss Pearl. I’m Mister Arthur Shelby.”

Pearl’s hand trembled as she daintily shook Arthur’s hand. “I’m pleased to meet you,” she finally managed to softly say. Pearl looked up into Arthur’s smiling blue eyes and decided that he was alright.

“Now, Miss Pearl, I am going to give you a half dollar to go tell Mister Nino that I am indeed here, and that if that mad mad Mister Shelby wants to see me, he can either wait until I am ready to see him, or he can walk back here himself.” Arthur rummaged through his pockets as he spoke until he fished out a half dollar and laid it in the palm of Pearl’s hand. “Okay, there you go, you take that message for me.”

Mollie and Pearl looked at each other and burst out laughing. “Mista Shelby! If I took that kinda money offa you my mama would wear my hind end out with a strap!”

“It’s true,” Mollie confirmed.

“Alright, how about a quarter?” Arthur began digging back through his pockets until he fished out a twenty-five cent piece.

Pearl looked at Mollie and shrugged, “Yes, Mista Arthur. I can deliver your message for a quarter. Thank you!” Pearl smiled and took off toward the boardinghouse.

Arthur and Mollie finished their coffee and cake, half expecting to be interrupted by Thomas, and made their way back to Mollie’s room. Wrapped in each other’s arms, they tried to find a way to say what neither of them wanted to say: goodbye.

In the light of day, Arthur could see more of Mollie’s room. There were scarves, a shelf with a photograph of her brother in his boxing gear and another of her ma and pa with a horse. A small dresser with a bottle of perfume, some dusting powder, and a brush. His eyes wandered to a crucifix draped with a rosary and a medallion of the Black Madonna. Arthur’s mind raced… her last name was Locke…her family traveled and worked at fairs, boxed, and dealt in horses…

 While he was thinking he had become very still, and Mollie propped herself up on one elbow to look at him. He had a far-off glassy look in his eyes as if he were about to burst into tears of joy.  “Arthur,” she shook him gently, “what’s the matter?”

 “Are you a Gypsy?” he asked.

 Molly fell back against the pillow beside her, worry etched across her pretty face. “They say I am on my Pa’s side. How did you know?” She never knew how people would react when they learned of her Romani blood, and she braced herself for the letdown.

 Suddenly Arthur’s lips were on hers, his hands were tangled in her hair, and he began murmuring words of love to her in broken Shelta.

 When Mollie could come up for air, she grasped both sides of Arthur’s face and looked into his deep blue eyes. “Are you?”

 “On me mum’s side. Oh, Mollie Girl, I think this is fate.”

Chapter 3

[cottonpadenthusiast]

Love Can Tell A Million Stories - Part 5

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 

“Pass the milk, Sirius,” Remus asked, stirring his coffee from his seat at the top of the wooden table. The smell of bacon and ground coffee filled the small kitchen, and the morning light filtered through the open windows. Harry yawned. It was a Sunday morning and two weeks until the first performance, meaning apprehension and excitement was building throughout the cast. Even carefree Luna was beginning to display nervousness, her usual calm demeanour now one of a slightly annoyed puppy.

“Here you go, love.” Sirius got the milk from the fridge, before handing it to Remus and kissing him lightly on the head. Sirius sat down opposite Harry, his long hair slightly ruffled and wearing Remus’ shirt.

“So, Harry. You nervous about the performance?”

“Nah, not really. I don’t really have much to do unless Jake gets sick, which is pretty unlikely.”

Remus frowned, his eyes full of guilt. “Sorry, Harry. We wanted to give you a role but… “

“It’s fine. Seriously, don’t worry about it. Anyway, it’s funny to watch everyone else freak out about lines while my main concern is ensuring Draco Malfoy has fluffy, white slippers in his dressing room so he doesn’t lose his shit at me.” Harry had taken on the role of organising everyone’s dressing rooms and helping around backstage. It meant Remus could focus on directing the actual performance rather than worrying about behind the scenes. A stage manager was hired and would be present in the run of to the debut, but in the meantime, Harry and Zayan shared responsibilities over dressing rooms and costumes.

“Oh, well that’s good,” Sirius replied.

Harry looked up from his food to see Sirius and Remus sharing A Look. Harry’s eyes narrowed.

“What? Why are you looking at each other like that?” Harry demanded.

“Oh, nothing.” Remus paused. “Draco’s a nice boy, isn’t he?”

“I suppose so, yeah. He’s a bit of a privileged prat sometimes, but other than that he’s nice.”

“Good-looking too,” Sirius added nonchalantly, an innocent look on his face.

“I’ve never really noticed,” Harry said slowly, searching both faces suspiciously.

“Such lovely blonde hair. And have you seen those long legs? He could be a model.”

“I know, Sirius. And what about his cheekbones? You could cut through metal with those.”

“Although, it’s weird that he is still single. It’s a wonder no one has snatched up such a fine young man.” Harry groaned internally. Sirius and Remus couldn’t be more obvious if they tried.

Remus interjected. “I agree, Sirius. Such a pity… although maybe he has his eye on someone in particular.”

“I wonder who it is.” Sirius turned to face Harry. “Harry, would you know?” Harry choked on the bacon he was eating. Bloody dickheads, he thought, grabbing a glass of water and chugging it.

“No idea,” he eventually replied, coughing and eyes boring into his plate. Harry heard the two begin to snigger and when he looked up, eyebrows furrowed in annoyance, they burst into howls of laughter.

“God, Harry. You really have got it bad,” Remus said in between fits of laughter.

Sirius snorted. “No wonder he can’t remember any lines. He spends all of the rehearsal drooling at Draco.”

Harry smiled in response, although it didn’t reach his eyes. The laughter died down and Harry felt their concerned glances on him as he played with the bacon on his plate.

Remus’ long fingers reached Harry’s hand and squeezed them lightly. “It was only a joke, dear. We didn’t mean any harm.”

Harry sighed. He had made Sirius and Remus feel guilty, despite the fact they had done nothing wrong except make a joke. Harry and his stupid crush and his stupid heart and his stupid feelings were the real joke.

“I know, I know. It’s just me being silly. Don’t worry about it. I better go and rehearse some lines.” Harry moved to grab his plate and leave when Remus’ grip on his hand tightened, locking the dark hands in pale ones.

“Wait, Harry. What’s wrong? And don’t say it’s nothing because we can clearly see it’s not.”

Harry ran a hand through his hair, avoiding Sirius’ determined gaze. He really didn’t want to have this conversation, not yet anyway. It would make his feelings more real. They would no longer exist inside his head, where they were safe, controlled, but would become substantial. He felt by admitting his feelings, they would slip from Harry’s grasp. But what choice did he have? He would not lie to Sirius and Remus.

“Please, Harry,” Remus murmured, a sincere but encouraging expression on his face. Harry relented.

“I can’t- I just… I wish-ugh”

“Take your time, Harry. Breathe,” Sirius said from across the table.

“It’s just… in the beginning, it was just a crush. I thought Draco was good-looking and that was it. But then, as I started to get to know him, I didn’t just like him for his body or his face. I liked his laugh and his smirk and his sarcasm; things that definitely aren’t included in the word “crush”. After I started noticing these obvious things, I started to notice other things too. Like the way he licks his lips when he is nervous and how he never wears the same clothes twice in a week and the huge grin he gets on his face when he sees a dog. And I’m so scared, Remus. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. How am I meant to stop what I’m feeling? I think I might be- I think I’m falling in…” Harry stopped, unable to finish the sentence, as a single tear fell down his cheek. He looked down, biting his lip, trying to distract from the agonising pain in his chest. Harry closed his eyes, focusing on Remus’ finger rubbing circles into his palm, as he tried to breathe deeply.

“Harry,” Sirius said softly. “Harry,” he said again when Harry refused to meet his gaze. Harry lifted his head reluctantly, to see his two godfathers smiling sadly at him, both their eyes glazed over.

“Harry, I want you to listen to me carefully. It is not a failing to fall in love. It takes great bravery and a kind heart to give your love to someone. James was one of the bravest men I have ever known, and not because he was confident or stood up for his beliefs. He was brave because he was never afraid to admit his love for your mother, despite how many times she rejected him. Again and again, he offered his heart to her, often in a slightly… strange way.” Sirius smiled at the memories of James’ professions of love. “And he kept doing it because he knew he was privileged to fall in love with Lily. Instead of treating his love like a weight or a pain upon him, he treated it like a treasure. He cherished it, nurtured it, and eventually when Lily realised her feelings, this allowed her to see how true his love was. He wasn’t scared because he knew that whatever happened, he would still be in the comfort of knowing that he had loved your mother honestly and openly.” Sirius placed his hand atop Remus and Harry’s. “Never regret falling in love, Harry, for it is only the weak that do so. You may regret falling in love with a particular person or the time you fell in love, but regretting the feeling of love is what brings hatred and loneliness into your life. And anyway, if Draco can’t see what an amazing young man you are, then it is his loss. But something tells me his feelings may not be far from your own.”

Harry stared at the two men in front of him. They loved each other unconditionally, had loved his parents like siblings and loved him like a son. Harry knew with a frightening certainty that Sirius was right. Those who love are stronger than those who don’t.

Harry wrapped his arms around the two, pulling them into a bone-crushing hug. “Thank you,” he whispered, tears falling freely now. He heard Sirius sniffle against him as Remus began to laugh. Soon the whole family was giggling, their laughter filling the small kitchen, as cars beeped in the distance.

“You really are like your father, Harry,” Remus said as they all pulled apart.

“Yeah. All the Potters make fools of themselves when they fall in love,” Sirius teased.

“And trip over when they see their crush,” Remus added.

“And have no sense of style.”

“And think they are cooler than they actually are.”

“OK, OK. I get it. We are all messes,” Harry interjected, rolling his eyes.

Sirius ruffled Harry’s hair as he walked to the sink. “Yup, but the Potters are our messes.”

“Yes, they are,” Harry murmured softly, watching Remus rest his head on Sirius’ shoulder and wrap his arms around him. Yes, they are.

[roslinadama-sinequanon]

Fourth of July with the Flynn’s.

This turned out to be much longer than I planned, a full story not just a drabble. But to get it out for the fourth I wrote it very quickly so please forgive any mistakes.

Santa Lucia is a fictional town.

Summary:  It's been 8 months since they got married and Andy and Sharon have just moved into their new Spanish Revival house on the coast and they have invited all their family and friends over for a large barbecue to celebrate the 4th of July.

You can read this here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15172376  or here:

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12991196/1/Fourth-of-July-with-the-Flynn-s

or right here:

*********

Even though he was used to being woken in the middle of the night, Andy was not an early riser. He usually needed an alarm. Sharon, on the other hand, often woke before her alarm and she was one of those lucky morning people, able to splash a little cold water on her face and was wide-awake. “It’s a mother thing,” she had assured him while he stumbled bleary-eyed to the kitchen for his coffee, needing that quick kick of caffeine to send him on his way.

Today, the feel of the sun warm on his cheek woke him before his alarm, while Sharon slumbered on beside him. Opening his eyes, he squinted against the natural light slightly disoriented and trying to gain his bearings in a still unfamiliar setting. Scanning the room, he saw walls painted a warm golden cream, long drapes in deep rich terracotta, a small kiva fireplace facing the bed from the corner and large windows with a comfortable window seat overlooking the backyard and the pool. Straight ahead was the source of most of the sunlight. French doors that opened out to a large terrace allowing them a glimpse of the Pacific that he knew would broaden when he stepped outside.

Home. He smiled. They were home.

Rising from their new bed with its intricate swirled wrought iron headboard and footboard, he padded over to the doors and flung them wide open, inhaling deeply the scent of the Pacific on the breeze. He leaned against the rail, looking out over the red-tiled roofs of the houses below them. They were a half mile from the water, but high enough up one of the many hills to have a gorgeous view of the ocean and coastline. Nestled between Santa Monica and the Palisades, Santa Lucia was a small former fishing village with a secluded cove that still held some of that old California charm. He and Sharon had fallen in love with the house and the town the minute they had set foot here. After visiting well over a dozen homes all over LA, they had begun to despair that they would ever find exactly what they were looking for…and then they had stepped into this house.  It had everything they wanted--including a separate mother in law suite off the garage so that Rusty had his own personal quarters where he could come and go. Yes, he would still need to use the kitchen but he was now far enough away from their bedroom that they would no longer have to worry about the thumping and pumping of their bed, a remark that he had made to Sharon that had earned him a slap on the arm. Sharon was not incredibly vocal in bed but he knew that she too was getting tired of trying to stifle her soft cries and low moans when they made love and of having to cover his mouth when he groaned out his completion.

The cream stucco Spanish Revival, with its Mediterranean wooden shutters and red -tiled roof had four bedrooms that included their master with its walk-in closet and large en-suite master bath, 2 guest rooms upstairs and the mother in law bedroom/sitting room combo downstairs. There were three and a half baths, a small formal living room and a larger family room. The ceilings were high, painted white and had gorgeous dark wood exposed beams. The rooms led one to the other through graceful Moorish archways. The kitchen was open to the dining room and the dining room doors opened out to a pergola covered patio.  Just off the kitchen was a small office with a view of the olive tree in the front yard and a nice bright laundry room. Off the dining room, to the right was an addition, a screened in porch, the ceiling of which was their master bedroom terrace. The house came with a two-car garage, a decent sized backyard with a pool, a hot tub and a couple of citrus trees and it was everything they had been looking for and more. Its only drawback was a bit longer commute than they had wanted, but the gorgeous view, the cool ocean breezes, and the backyard oasis more than made up for that. It was a house they could envision one day retiring in; a house that would be a perfect fit for the many grandbabies they hoped would surround them in the future.

“You’re up early.” Arms wrapped around his torso and he felt the warmth of Sharon’s breasts pressed into his back, her lips soft on the nape of his neck.

“We have a lot to do. Got a big crowd coming.” He turned into her embrace.

“Yes, we do. Thank God we have almost everything unpacked.” They had moved in a week ago and had most of the rooms in order, with a few things here or there left to unpack or rearrange, mostly in the guest rooms and the office.

“It’s a good thing we had some time on the books, and that your son is such a whiz with electronics.” Ricky had taken some time off leading up to the fourth to help with the move. They had hired professional movers to get everything in, and being as organized as Sharon was, everything was labeled well and put in the exact right spot. But, there had been some rearranging and a lot of unpacking and they had needed Ricky to help set up the large screen TV Andy had purchased for the family room and the surround sound that came with it. Sharon wasn’t a big TV watcher but Andy had sold her when he played up to her major weakness asking her to envision football games on such a big screen,  “it will be almost like we’re there” he had pressured, like a kid convincing his mom. She had caved into his enthusiasm with a long-suffering sigh but secretly was really looking forward to curling up on the big plush leather couch that had come from Andy’s house via storage and spending football Sunday’s watching the games on the big screen.

“Well.” Andy startled Sharon out of her reverie. “Work isn’t going to get done with the two of us staring at the ocean all day. Let’s go woman.” He smacked Sharon on her silk-clad butt on his way back into the bedroom.

Sharon shook her head with an affectionate roll of her eyes. Her husband was so excited to have the whole the family and the squad coming over for a traditional Fourth of July barbecue that he could hardly contain himself. Almost a year ago they’d looked at their first house together and he’d been nearly giddy when he said to her, “An affordable house in the Hollywood Hills and a family to share it with,“ only to have those dreams come crashing down when the realtor informed them that the house had black mold. That had been the end of that. Now his dream was finally coming true. They were married, had five children between them and a comfortable home they could share with family and friends.

****

They found Rusty still in his pajamas sitting half asleep at the island in the middle of the kitchen. His head was propped on his hand and he was half-heartedly spooning cereal into his mouth.

“I would have made you breakfast,” Andy said.

“Mm…I needed a break from all the eggs.”

Sharon gave Andy a shrug. She had bought Andy a state of the art grilling station with gas, charcoal and wood options, along with several burners as her house-warming gift to him. Every morning, since they’d moved in, he'd gone outside, cooked them all eggs and turkey bacon, and grilled wheat toast, which they ate outside on the old farmer's table they had bought at the Long Beach Antique Market and had set up under the pergola.

Andy stood with the carton of eggs in his hand. “Would you rather have French toast?” He asked Sharon.

“French toast sounds lovely.” She sat beside Rusty at the large dark wood island with the granite top and three chairs  that came from her condo bar and asked, “Why are you up so early this morning?”

Rusty’s narrowed eyes fell on Andy where he stood in his pajama bottoms and gray t-shirt at the coffee/tea bar they had set up along one wall. “Ask your husband.”

Sharon bit back a smile. Andy was always “your husband” now when Rusty was irritated with him. “Andy?”

“What?” He turned to see her looking at him expectantly. “Oh for god sake I asked the kid to put up a little patriotic bunting.”

“A little? Geez, you should see the stuff he bought.”

Sharon continued to fight her smile. She had found a man whose sense of occasion was every bit as strong as hers.  

“Where is Ricky, isn’t he going to help?”

Rusty gestured toward the yard. “He’s already out there.” His older brother and his stepfather were two peas in a pod. He wasn’t sure who was more enthusiastic about the party, Ricky or Andy.

“Sharon, you want a cappuccino?” Andy was still at the coffee bar. They had gotten an espresso maker as a wedding gift and once he had figured out how to use the damn thing, he had become obsessed with it. Cappuccino was his new drink of choice.

“I’d love one.”

He set to work and soon the kitchen was filled with the sloshing and gurgling of foaming milk. Sharon accepted the large ceramic mug he handed her when it was finished and, sipping at the froth, she followed him through the dining room. They had kept her dining room table and chairs, only now it sat under an elegantly scrolled iron chandelier in the Spanish Revival style of the house. Once outside she sat at the table, leaning back and enjoying the peace of the morning while Andy cooked at the grill. The little waterfall that ran from the hot tub into the pool gurgled soothingly and it was nice to listen to birds chirping rather than the sound of traffic.

“Dammit!”

Okay, so maybe not so peaceful. “Ricky?” She looked over to the far end of the patio where Ricky had been hanging red, white and blue bunting from the freestanding stucco fireplace and where he was now cursing and hold his hand. “Are you okay, honey?”

“I just hammered my fu…frakking thumb.”

She rose and went to him to take look. “Frakking, huh?”  She lifted a brow causing him to grin.

“You still don’t see it?” He asked.

“No, I don’t.” One day during the holidays while she was baking Christmas cookies Emily and Ricky were home and the two of them were watching some Sci-Fi program called Battlestar Galactica with Andy and Rusty. They called her in to take a look and kept talking about how much she looked like the lead character who happened to be the President.

“Mom, Laura Roslin could be your twin.”

“I’m not sure I‘d go that far.” Sharon was not generally a sci-fi fan but that day she had gotten hooked on what they referred to as BSG. It wasn‘t anything like what she had expected. She had also fallen hard for the love story between President Laura Roslin and Admiral William Adama, sobbing at the end when Laura died. She had even seen a tear trail down Andy’s cheek and she’d never seen him cry over a movie or TV show. “She just looks so much like you, “ he’d said. She had assured him that this was real life and in real life, women did not always have to die at the end.

****

“I swear to God if he serves up that dry, flourless, sugarless, tasteless thing he called a cake or tofu or whatever health food kick he’s on now, we are going home.”

Andy rolled his eyes at Sharon. “Provenza’s here.” Sharon looked up from where she was rearranging food on another table she’d set up under the pergola to see Provenza and Patrice coming around the house from the side yard.

“Sharon, everything looks beautiful. I can’t believe how much you’ve gotten done in a week.” Patrice took in the red white and blue bunting draped along the house, the patriotic balloons and the big American flag tacked to the side of the gardener’s shed. She and Louis had helped the Flynn’s move in last week, well, she had helped and Louis had sat around on the couch shouting out orders as to where things should go…and grumbling when Andy ignored him.

“Thank you, Patrice.” Sharon took the large bowl Patrice handed her.

“Potato salad,” Patrice said. ��My grandmother’s recipe.”

“It looks delicious.” Sharon set it down next to what she had already laid out. Baskets of tortilla chips, salsa, and her favorite garlic guacamole, mounds of cheese, crackers, and salami, bowls of olives and pounds of jumbo shrimp and cocktail sauce.

Andy watched his friend eyeing the table, sniffing appreciatively. “But since you might not like what we’re serving, I think you ought to eat this.” He handed Provenza the veggie platter he was about to set on the table.

“Now, now, Flynn, I may have been a little hasty in my judgment.”

“You think?”

Patrice leaned into Sharon. “And they’re off.”

“Papa Andy! Mimi! We’re here.” Tyler and Scotty raced around the house throwing themselves at Andy and Sharon.

“Indeed you are.” Sharon swung Scotty up onto her hip, while Andy lifted Tyler.

“Mimi?” Provenza asked, his lip quirking at the cutesy name for his elegant Commander.

“When Andy and I got married they wanted to know what to call me. I told them they could pick. We went through the choices, they liked Grammy Sharon but thought it was too long so they shortened it to Mimi.”

“I think it fits,” Amy said, eyeing her boss who was wearing a low cut one piece navy bathing suit with tiny white stars and a mid-length red sarong tied around her slender waist… “You sure as heck don’t look like anyone’s grandmother.”

“And she’s not sucking up this time,” Julio said.

Sharon smiled at them appreciatively then asked the boys. “Where are your mom and dad?”

“They’re coming. We wanna go swimming.”

“Sorry about all this,” Nicole set a couple of bowls down on the food table while Dean followed her carrying various flotation devices. “I told the boys that you said you had floats for them to keep here but they wanted to make sure.”

“Wait until you see what I’ve got.“ Andy set Tyler down as did Sharon with Scotty and he beckoned them to follow him to the shed. “Mark you come too.” Mark grinned at Julio who nodded.

“Go with your Uncle Andy.” Mark raced off. He had gotten to know Tyler and Scotty at the wedding so Julio knew they were all going to have a good time.

“Whoa! That’s so cool.” The boys were gushing enthusiastically over Andy’s choices. Three oversized floats, a killer whale, a great white shark and an alligator. However, what really got them excited was when he pulled out several large squirt guns that looked like bazookas.

“Look mom!” Tyler ran to Nicole to show her one up close. “Papa said they’re Super Soaker Zombinator’s. They kill zombies.” Nicole showed her appreciation and he ran off back toward the pool where Andy was filling the guns with water.

“A Zombinator?” She questioned Sharon who shrugged.

“Don’t ask me. Your dad picked them out. In fact, I think he was just as excited about them as the boys.”

“Not surprising,” Provenza rumbled. He shook his head watching Andy filling the excited boys' water guns. “It looks like he bought out the store.”

“He wanted to make sure there were enough for everyone. And…he figured it wouldn’t be just the boys who would want to use them.”

“He figured right.” Amy watched with amusement as Ricky, Rusty, Coop, Julio, Buzz, and Wes all went to check out this new toy.

“Men,“ Patrice shook her head good-humouredly. “They never really grow up.”

“Not true. You don’t see me over there,” Provenza said.

“Speaking of which,” Sharon eyed him. “Aren’t you going to put your bathing suit on?”

“I don’t wear bathing suits.”

“Not even to swim?” Amy asked.

“I don’t swim. I do, however, like to eat.” He grabbed a plate and started filling it with food.

“Hello, Captain. I mean Captain Sharon. I mean Commander…uh Hello, Sharon.”

Sharon would know that stuttering southern drawl anywhere and turned with a welcoming smile.

“Brenda, Fritz. I’m so glad you could make it.” She wasn’t sure they would come. She was still close to Fritz, of course, they had a great working relationship, but while she and Brenda were no longer adversaries and had even come to a sort of tentative friendship, they would never be close. They were just too different. And with Fritz and Brenda working through a long-distance marriage with her in Atlanta and him in LA, the last time Sharon had seen them together was at her and Andy’s wedding,

“Your house is beautiful, just beautiful.” Brenda felt awkward. She always did in social situations. At one time, she had been so close to these people. She’d been their chief. But when she walked away from Major Crimes, she never looked back. That’s just the way she was. People were in her life or they were out of her life. She had no long-term friendships or ties and now she felt like she hardly knew them at all. And she had certainly never known them like this. Seeing them all here, in Andy and Sharon Flynn’s--and would she ever get used to saying that---backyard they really looked like a family. She got updates from Fritz so she knew what was going on in her old department and she knew that Sharon Raydor, of all people, had created a bond between the squad that was far deeper than the one they’d had working under her.

***

Otis Redding was singing about sitting on the dock of the bay and Sharon was relaxed, listening to the music and sipping on a frozen margarita while watching the guys roughhousing in the pool. She had taken her dip and was cool and content. She watched Ricky dunk under water and come up with Rusty on his shoulders, Julio did the same with Mark, Dean with Tyler and then….Andy with Scotty. She leaned forward anxiously in her chair.

“He’s okay, Sharon.” Patrice rested a comforting hand on her forearm. “The clot is long gone.”

“I know.” She tried to release her tension. “I guess old habits die hard.”

Patrice smiled sympathetically and then glanced over at Andy. “He’s really in his element out there.”

“Are you kidding me? He’s been waiting for this kind of thing since the day we closed on the house…no let me take that back, I think he’s been dreaming about this from the day we decided to buy a house together.”

The softness in the look on Sharon’s face as she watched her husband and kids caused Patrice to draw another conclusion. “I think maybe you’ve been looking forward to this just as much as him.”

“Am I that obvious?”  Sharon sipped her drink, relishing the tang of the lime and kick of tequila.

Patrice shrugged and laughed. “Yeah, actually you are.”

“I guess I just …” she paused at the prickling sensation of tears stinging her eyes. “I never thought I’d have this in my life. I’m just so grateful. For Andy, for our family, for all of this. It’s something I never had with my first husband.”

The boys began to shriek with laughter as their game of “chicken” began, drawing the women’s attention back to the pool. “Enjoy it now honey, you might be wishing for some of that peace and solitude real soon.”

After their game of ‘chicken’ and a spirited water polo match, the boys started a cannonball competition. Julio had made the biggest splash so far, thus, he was winning when Scotty called out to Sharon, “Mimi, you do a cannonball.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Tyler said. “Mimi’s skinny, you gotta be big to make a big splash.”

“Thank you Tyler, I love you,” Sharon blew him a kiss.

“And what do you mean by big?” Julio feigned outrage. “Are you saying I’m fat? You‘re going to pay that for that ninito.” Julio tossed him in the air and Tyler came up sputtering and giggling.

“You’re gonna win, Uncle Julio,” he assured the now laughing man. “I don’t think Mimi can do a cannonball anyway.”

“What do you mean you don’t think Mimi can do a cannonball?” Sharon took off her sunglasses and turned on her best Darth Raydor glare.

Andy grinned. “When she looks at you like that boys, you better watch out.”

“That’s right you better watch out. You watched me dive into the pool.”

“Diving’s different.”

“Well, I can sure as heck do a cannonball.” Sharon set her margarita glass down, stood, tossed off her wide-brimmed hat, untied her sarong and jumped in the pool cannonball style. The boys all cheered for her but still declared Julio the winner.

“Close your jaw, Brenda Leigh,” Provenza smirked.

Brenda did, but still had a funny look on her face. “If you would have told me 10 years ago, that Andy Flynn would be married to Sharon Raydor and that I’d be sitting by their pool watching her do a cannonball I would have thought you were on hallucinogens.”

“Join my world, Brenda Leigh, join my world.“

With the cannonball competition over the guys left the pool to set up a volleyball net in the grass with almost everyone participating in a rousing game. Everyone that is, except for Provenza who laid in a chaise lounge calling out his critiques.

“That was lazy Flynn; you could have gotten to that one.”

Sharon turned with her hands on her hips. “Which Flynn are you referring too, Louis?” Her sweetly asked question was laced with an underlying deadly edge.

“Remember, when she looks at you like that you gotta watch out,” Tyler said, remembering what Andy had told them.

“I’ll keep that mind. Of course, I’d never call you lazy, Commander. I was referring to your lazy ass husband.”

“Oh yeah, if you think you could do better why don’t you come out here and play?” Andy shot off.

“Yeah Louis, come on,” Patrice called to him.

“Ye Gods, I don’t think so.” Provenza pulled his little white hat down over his eyes and pretended to take a nap.

Andy rolled his eyes and hit the ball over the net. He loved this, it was what he had always wanted, a big family, music, noise, laughter, people arguing, and football games in the backyard. The only thing missing, other than Emily of course, was a dog or two but he was sure that would come eventually.

As the afternoon progressed more guests arrived, the doctors Joe and Morales, Gavin and Andrea, Andy’s son Justin, Judge Steven Grove and his wife Linda and even Leo Mason and his family. Andy stood at the grill in his American flag swimming trunks and flip-flops deftly flipping burgers, hot dogs and the chicken shish kebobs he had been marinating overnight, while also keeping an eye on the vat of barbecued pulled pork staying warm on one of the burners.  He changed the Sirius station he’d had playing out over the Bose outdoor speakers, a wedding gift from Ricky, from ‘Margaritaville’ which they’d been listening to all afternoon, to the Dodgers game.

Along with the meats Andy was cooking, the potluck side dishes included a variety of salads--- Caprese, Caesar, broccoli, potato, macaroni, and pasta---coleslaw, baked beans, garlic bread, and cornbread. There were also plenty of desserts, cookies, brownies and blueberry pie. But when everyone had finished eating Sharon went inside to get the piece de resistance. A large strawberry sheet cake she had frosted with whipped cream and decorated with big fat blueberries and lines of sliced strawberries in the design of the American flag. She popped in two sparklers and lit them so when she walked out with the cake it was shooting sparks everywhere.

The kids were thrilled.

As the day turned to dusk some of the partygoers left, while others followed Andy, Sharon and their family down to the beach to watch the small fireworks display the town was going to set off on the pier. There were a couple of bonfires and a small live band playing patriotic favorites. Mark, Tyler, and Scott saw the vendor trucks set up on the edge of the beach and convinced their parents they needed a Kona Ice to watch the fireworks. When they got in line Andy and Sharon continued on to find a good spot.

The breeze off the Pacific had a slight chill with the tide coming in so Andy set their blanket up fairly close to the bonfire. He sat with his knees lifted, Sharon between them, her back to his front and he wrapped his arms around her. Little kids ran around on the beach waving sparklers, random firecrackers went off and colorful orbs of fire lit the sky from private backyard displays. The night sky over the Pacific sparkled with stars in a natural display of beauty. Sharon leaned back against Andy, his voice warm, tickling her ear. Content, that is how she felt, purely, completely content.

The band had just finished that old Arlo Guthrie hit “City of New Orleans” when the rest of the family joined them with their Kona snow cones.

“We got one for you Papa and Mimi,” Tyler held out red-topped snow cone.

“Tigers Blood,” Mark said.

“Sounds delicious,” Andy took the cone.

“You have to share,” Tyler said, turning to glare at his younger brother. “Scotty dropped one.”

Seeing that Scotty was about to burst into tears, Sharon reached out and took the little boys hand. “It’s okay Scott. I’m still so stuffed from all that food today; I couldn’t possibly eat a whole snow cone. “

“See, I told you, buddy.” Rusty prodded the boy.

Andy held the snow cone out to Sharon who took a bite off the sweet icy top. “See, we can share, no problem. Now, why don’t you guys get settled in before things get started.“

A whistling noise filled the air and suddenly the sky was alight with dazzling explosions of color. The fireworks had begun.

*****

When it was over, the crowd cheering at the finale, the band had one last song. A rousing sing-along that was one of Sharon’s favorites not just because it was about the beauty of the nation but because it really summed up what America was at its best, a government of the people, by the people, and for the people as Lincoln said in his Gettysburg address. And, even the boys could sing along to this one.

This land is your land, this land is my land From California to the New York island From the Redwood Forest, to the Gulf Stream waters This land was made for you and me

As I went walking that ribbon of highway I saw above me that endless skyway And saw below me that golden valley This land was made for you and me

I roamed and rambled and I followed my footsteps To the sparkling sands of her diamond deserts And all around me, a voice was sounding This land was made for you and me

When the sun comes shining, then I was strolling In the wheat fields waving and dust clouds rolling The voice was chanting as the fog was lifting This land was made for you and me

As I went walking I saw a sign there And on the sign it said "No Trespassing." But on the other side it didn't say nothing, That side was made for you and me.

In the shadow of the steeple I saw my people, By the relief office I seen my people; As they stood there hungry, I stood there asking Is this land still made for you and me?

Nobody living can ever stop me, As I go walking that freedom highway; Nobody living can ever make me turn back This land was made for you and me.

This land is your land and this land is my land From California to the New York island From the Redwood Forest, to the Gulf Stream waters This land was made for you and me.

Happy Birthday America! Proud of your past, looking forward to your future, surviving your present.

[fakesurprise]

Breakfast of Champions

“Mom?” It is Zen who opens the door to the bedroom. He’s never called me mom before. “Is there a reason you made breakfast and went back to sleep?”

“What?”

“Erin said ‘Mom needs to see this’, so said I should tell you.”

I get out of bed, throwing a robe over my nightgown. I can hear sounds from the kitchen on the first floor. Zen turns away when I change; Nyle accused him of listening too hard when Nyle was changing last week. I have no idea if it was a joke or not, but Zen seems to have taken it to heart. I walk up behind him, resting my hand on his left shoulder. He turns his head toward me.

“Something wrong?”

“I don’t know; you don’t smell of breakfast, or a shower after it,” he says softly.

I reach down and snag his left hand. “Kitchen, then.”

He nods and leads the way down the hallway, his cane brushing the floor for stray dog toys. Nyle cleaned up after Rover a lot, but Rover was still just a service dog in training. I went down the stairs at Zen’s cautious pace: he had a talent for seeming calm, though his hand was squeezing mine tighter than I think he knew; I didn’t let go, though I had to squeeze a bit to make it past Luisa’s chairlift and still hold his hand, but I’m not sure Zen noticed.

Which worried me, but not as much as the smells from the kitchen. Bacon, eggs, waffles, chicken, pancakes, toast: I lose track after that.

I walk beside him into the kitchen, stop dead. And swear.

I have a rule about no swearing in the house. No one calls me on it. The others are in the kitchen already. Erin grins at my expression, for once not hiding her scars with her hair. Nyle is filling a plate with food arranged in some order that makes sense only to him. Luisa is just staring at the food from the doorway into her bedroom as if she isn’t sure it’s real.

“I put pictures on my phone,” Erin says.

I just nod. The kitchen table and counters are heaping. Every breakfast food I could think of and many I never considered breakfast foods. Even breakfast doggie treats that Rover is devouring near the back stairs. Milk. Juices. Coffee. Teas. It us more than I’ve seen in my life in one place, and certainly more than we could ever eat.

“I think – I think everyone can dig in,” I manage, before heading to the house phone. “Erin, get everyone drinks. Nyle, make sure Rover is fine. Luisa, help Zen with choices.”

They begin to act as I call my parents on the other side of town. Dad answers, and asks if there is a breakfast as my place too. My stepmom and he had the same thing, though smaller. Along with everyone else they’ve called in town. No one knows what to make of any of it, but Bernice – my stepmom – shouts over the phone that the two local churches and the mosque are having a twitter war over who is responsible. I thank them, say we’re fine, put the phone away.

“I – it seems every house in town might have been giving a breakfast buffet.”

“That is impossible,” Nyle says flatly.

Which is when the toast appears on the stove, the only empty space left for anything. Sourdough, white, multi grain, half-buttered and half-not. A boy is standing by the stove. He is eleven, and looks chagrined.

“I am all kinds of sorry, but I was so busy doing breakfasts for champions that I almost forgot the toast for this house!”

“This is not possible,” Nyle says, even flatter. He drops the food in his shock, and the rest of us brace for a meltdown that – stops, as the boy moves somehow, catches the food and hands it back to Nyle.

And grins.

The moment the boy appeared, Erin hid her face without thinking. She stops at the grin. Lucia is just staring. Zen is facing the boy like a tree leaning toward the sun.

Nyle smiles back. It’s not a grin. I don’t think Nyle knows how to grin, but it’s the first real smile I’ve seen from him in a long time. He steps back, the smile fading, confusion replacing it. “What did you do?”

“Oh!” The boy steps back in turn. “Sorry. I am really jaysome with bindings and I almost hurt yours.”

“I do not –.” Nyle’s voice cracks a little. “I do not know what just happened.”

“I didn’t think cuz a Jay is really good at making friends and sometimes I forget that people all make friends in different ways and that was an oops,” the boy says in a rush.

“You hurt Nyle?” Zen asks. “He’s never sounded like that.”

“Uhm.” The boy scratches his head. “I don’t think so but I’m not good at that kind of thinking and! I’ve been really busy doing lots and lots of breakfasts and sometimes do forgettings too you know!”

Rover moves between the boy and Nyle. Not growling, but between them.

“Oh.” And the boy’s voice is very soft, and he vanishes. Actually vanishes.

“The smile is gone?” Zen asks. “I can feel it, if that makes any sense, but it’s gone?”

“He vanished,” Lucia says numbly. “He did impossibilities, and Nyle made him run away before we could ask anything,” and the last word is hard, edged.

Even Nyle doesn’t miss that. “I did not think. He scared me. Did he not scare you?”

“Why did he scare you?” I ask before Lucia can add anything else.

“I do not –.” Nyle shakes his head. “I don’t have words.” And every one of us stare at him. “Is something the matter?” he asks.

“That was a contraction. You used a contraction,” Zen breathes.

Nyle doesn’t move, his face slowly draining of colour.

“It may be wise to eat the food.” I spin, and a man comes in the back door. Rover normally barks at strangers, but runs up to the man and accepts a pat. He looks ordinary. Early thirties, I think, but he seems to take the kitchen entirely in stride, and the food as well.

“What is going on here?” I demand.

“I am sorry. Jay decides that everyone in the town needed a breakfast fit for champions last night. And spend the evening making a lot of food and delivering it. He is very, very good with bindings, but this was among the last homes he delivered to and forgetting the toast was – well, not jaysome.”

“What is he?” Erin asks. She’s not hiding her scars from him, either.

“Complicated, though Jay doesn’t believe that about himself. I’m friends with him, and he asked me to fix this ‘oops’.” He smiles wanly. “Not that Jay knows what it is, of course.” he says dryly as he turns to Nyle. “Are you all right?”

“I do not know. For a moment, I was some other me. Still Nyle, but not this Nyle?”

The man nods. “Yes. Jay has no true understanding of what his grin can do. To him, it’s more natural than breathing.”

“Does he have to breathe?” Zen visible hunches as he feels us staring at him. “I don’t think he was, not as much as people do?”

The man lets out a sigh. “Jay is from far Outside the universe. Many things are different there, but Jay just wants to make friends.”

“He can do other things,” Lucia says, the words not a question.

“Sometimes, yes. He could have made Nyle no longer Nyle,” the man says, though no one has offered up their names.

“I’d still be me if I could walk again,” she snaps.

“Yes. But how would you explain it? Jay is very excitable, but also prone to adventures and getting lost, and forgetting many things. He could do bindings so you would walk. But they might not last. He might need to bind something large, and have to unmake other bindings to do so. That would be an unkindness to him as well as yourself.”

“I think I would be fine, if I could see again only for a time that might be short,” Zen whispers.

“Maybe. But not every blind person would be. And if Jay helps one, there is no reason he wouldn’t help everyone else. There would be notice, questions, fear. There are – certain forces making sure that what Jay did this morning doesn’t spread beyond this town, that it passes into urban legend. But even they have limits if Jay alters the world on a large scale.”

“I don’t need that,” Erin says. “All I need is money for plastic surgery. But many other people need that too, don’t they?”

“And for other things,” the man says. “But that much can be done, with money Jay was forced not to spend on food. Jay would want you to have this then, I imagine, though unlike the food it is not a gift.” And there is a credit card in his hand that he hands to Erin before walking back to the door. “Eat as much as you like, freeze as much as you wish. The rest will be sent elsewhere after everyone here is done.”

“To places with poverty?” Nyle asks.

The man nods. “Yes,” he says. “Places Jay doesn’t know much about, because it is – not safe for Jay to know some things.”

And Jay appears again, beside the man. “You fixed the oops, Honcho!”

“I did,” the man says.

“Man. That would have been a bad oops too because!–” and he is beside me between moments “–I don’t want the bindings here to break when you foster lots of kids and that’s very jaysome. Honcho and Charlie foster lots of feelings toward me too,” he says proudly. 

I doubt his real name is Honcho, and I have no idea who Charlie is, but Jay seems to simply assume everyone knows them. I wonder what that must be like, but the man just looks at me and waits. “I foster a lot of feelings for the kids in my care,” I say. “Mostly they’re good ones.”

Jay grins. Innocent, joyous, free and excited. It takes my breath away to think about what could be done with such a grin. “Lots of people are mostly good ones even if sometimes they forget to be jaysome.”

“Speaking of, we have food to start moving,” the man says.

“Oh, okay! That means I can find a moving truck!” And Jay vanishes again.

“Did anyone else hear that?” Zen asks, and it is almost thirty seconds before we hear the rumbling in the air.

The man sighs. “Sometimes, just sometimes –.” He walks toward the back door. “Of course Jay would consider a UFO as a moving truck.”

“It is not a UFO.” The man stops and turns as Nyle speaks. “It is entirely identified.”

“Heh. A point. I will try and explain that to anyone cross with Jay over this incident,” he says. He stares at us, his gaze thoughtful and distant. “I am the wandering magician of this era, and there is magic in a home like this, in what you do and why you do it. Jay may come back here in the future, needing help. Help him as you can; sometimes even a Jay needs help in being jaysome, though he might never understand that at all.”

And he walks outside, the sound overhead vanishing.

I take a deep breath, and head to the table. “Start eating. I want everyone so full you don’t eat for two days and it keeps the budget reasonable this month.”

Everyone laughs at that except Nyle, but Nyle does eat as much as the rest of us.

We don’t talk about what happened. Later, I hear Erin crying in her room, but I don’t enter. I have no words I could say. The magician said the credit card wasn’t a gift, and all I can hope is that Erin comes to terms with that. But not as much as I selfishly hope that Jay never ends up in my home again; fostering children is one thing. Jay is so far beyond that that I don’t have words for it. Not even jaysome.

[ericxanders]

Kiss Me Slow || ROYALTY

WHO: Eric Anderson and Kurt Hummel ( @pearhipshummel )

WHERE: Eric’s Apartment

WHEN: January 19th 2019

NOTES: There’s some bacon. There’s some flirting and then there’s some kissing.

Eric

His room was definitely in a state of disarray; and he'd planned on getting up early on Saturday morning to organise it more but he hadn't got up as early as he'd planned. The place was slowly coming together and by the time he heard Kurt knocking at his door, he didn't feel so embarrassed to have guests over. He answered the door and looked him over with a bright smile. 'I knew it; twice as pretty in person.' he winked, stepping aside to give him space to enter. 'I hope you'll excuse the state of the place. It's still a work in progress.'

Kurt

Kurt clutched one of his favorite cooking pots with different spices hidden inside as he left the switch dorms to make the short travel towards Eric Anderson's suite. When the door opened to accommodate him, he flashes a bright grin and tentatively enters. Off the bat and he was already blushing. How he should've expected anything less was silly of him, but he can only give a small tut. "Oh, please. I'm not that naive to think a new place is suppose to look as dashing as the new owner that's occupying it." He returns the wink as he moves into the kitchen, setting his pot down. "You should've seen my place after I moved in. Majority of the boxes were clothes. Took a while to get everything in closet space and dressers."

Eric

‘I suppose I should have known as much. Best dressed person in the school right?’ He echoes, recalling the conviction with which Kurt had shared that particular fact. ‘I have a pet hate about living in clutter honestly. I would have had most of my stuff put away but there was a whole mix-up with the airline and most of my luggage was sent on another flight.’ He explains, opening the fridge and ducking to properly root through it. ‘Can I get you a drink or anything?’ He asks, speaking into the fridge. ‘I’ve got lemonade, soda, milk, coffee, tea.’ He lists off, straightening up and turning to look back at him. The other man is both attractive and interesting; for right now, he can’t really ask any more of his company.

Kurt

"Oh that sounds like an irritating situation, Monsieur. I'm sorry to hear that." Kurt offers as he starts taking things out of his pot to set on the counter space beside the stove. The question coming about needing something to drink does perk an ear, but he goes for a different tactic. And as he had been this independently willed into serving Sebastian upon meeting him for the first time without prompt, he gently waves a hand to beckon Eric away from the fridge as he takes his place at the cool opening. "Now, now. I know my way around a kitchen. Let me get you a drink. You've just got here, so you have two options. You can either sit and relax and talk to me while I make us, or really moreso you, food. Or you can continue unpacking, with an occasional question directed my way. Either way, let me get you a drink, Monsieur. What would you like?"

Eric

He’s pleasantly surprised when Kurt takes his place. It’s an interesting show of submission; briefly taking charge so that serving becomes an option. Obviously, his Switch mark fits him rather well. ‘I’ll take a lemonade.’ He answers after a few moments of though. It doesn’t go unnoticed that he only plans to make a meal for one. ‘Why aren’t you making us food? Maybe I should have specified that. I’d definitely like you to stay and eat with me.’ He explains, as he lifts himself up onto the countertop; a decent distance away from where Kurt has started to unpack his things to ensure he has plenty of room.

Kurt

On the beverage request, Kurt locates the lemonade and a glass to pour it in as smoothly as if this kitchen was his own. His head cocks slightly from the next question, as he hands the glass up to the Dom. "Oh, well if that's the case, I'd be honored to actually join you, Monsieur." Another small smile as he sets the lemonade back in the fridge and goes snooping through the food items he had to work with. Locating some potatoes, whipped cream, garlic, and bacon he returns to the stove and sets the items next to the settled seating area of the Dominant. "Now, usually this dish is best served with wine. White wine to be specific. But as we're not permitted to have alcohol and we're still on a lockdown, I suppose I owe you that drink when we're able to go off campus."

Eric

‘More time with the charming and beautiful Kurt Hummel; I’m almost glad for the lockdown.’ He teases. He wouldn’t describe himself as a flirt but he definitely enjoys it. He was being quite serious when he expressed his desire to see Kurt flush; his mind had instantly drifted to every other way he could make his skin turn. ‘Until then, we can always add a little fizzy water to this and call it bubbly.’ He laughs. It’s definitely thrilling to have someone outright want to serve him. ‘Tell me about Kurt.’ He requests. ‘I’m not going to ask you questions. Letting you talk freely about yourself is the best way to get to know you.’ He nods.

Kurt

Kurt can't help but to laugh, as he holds up a spatula as if he is fanning himself. "Oh, you flatter me, Monsieur." He chimes in from the statement of getting to spend more time with him. Something he wouldn't mind, as so far the company was nice and this Eric guy wasn't pulling the Dominant card at every turn. Or really at all so far, which was always something Kurt could get on board with. Starting in filling his pot with water to boil, he starts peeling his potatoes while jutting his bottom lip out in thought. "Alrighty, I can do that until I feel like I'm being a little too conceited." He adds a nervous laugh and then takes a deep breath. "But I am the eldest triplet of three, to a sister and a brother. Both, of whom, are also here. But uh, my mother passed when we were 8, and she was my hero. Plus she and I share the same hair type, so I think I got the better half of the gene pool." He gives an exaggerated hair flip which barely moves his coifed hair with a laugh. "Kidding. Sort of. But after she passed, I kind of took to caring for my dad until he found Carole, so now I have three more siblings brought in by marriage. It was a full house, and it took some getting used to." With his potatoes peeled, he cuts them into four sections and sets them in the pot of heating up water. "It definitely helped that my step brother, Finn, was good looking and I kind of fell hard for him. It was very embarrassing, because I wasn't subtle about it either." He feels his face go red, but he quickly shakes it off, searching for a skillet. "I obviously moved on after he used a slur towards me, and my dad chewed him out. But we've moved on since then, and on better terms with one another." Finding what he's looking for, he sets it on another burner, and goes to open the strips of bacon with a hum. "High school was uneventful...uh...and here I am!"

Eric

Asking him to just talk about himself isn’t a cop out or a way to ensure he doesn’t have to answer questions. Eric has always liked people and he’s always liked getting to know them; his friends used to joke that he could go into a bathroom on a night out and come out with a new friend who had divulged their life story. When Kurt starts to talk and share, he’s genuinely interested in everything he has to say. ‘I think I’ve spoken to your brother actually. Teddy right? No sign of your sister but by process of elimination, she must share my mark so no doubt we’ll run into one another in class or in the building.’ He can’t hide his delight in the way Kurt’s face reddens. ‘I was definitely right; you look gorgeous when you get all flushed.’ He teases lightly. He doesn’t want to comment on specific events; Kurt doesn’t need a stranger’s condolences on his Mother’s passing or that’s the assumption he makes. ‘It sounds like you’ve had a rather eventful time of it up until now.’ He remarks. ‘And now you’re here, cooking for a stranger.’

Kurt

Kurt ducks his face some from the compliments. Though he never actually minded in being called nice things, blushing or not, he always took a bit of embarrassment from letting himself show any sign of vulnerability. Even if the guy was good looking as Eric was. Laying strips side by side on the skillet, he bites his lip and offers the Dom a side long glance. "Well, I'll let you in on a secret." He holds his free hand up to cup the side of his mouth as if he's actually telling a secret. "I only cook for good looking and charming strangers off the bat." It comes out as a whisper, playing on serious though he has a playful twinkle on his eye. "But yes, Teddy is my brother. And my sister, Nora, will also probably charm your socks off when you do run into her." With the sizzling of the bacon, he flips each strip to ensure proper cooking and checks on the potatoes next. "What about you, Monsieur? What is your life story?"

Eric

'You think I'm good-looking and charming?' he echoes, a smirk playing on his lips before he takes a long drink of his lemonade. He pushed himself off the counter and went about setting the table for two. 'My life story? I'm also the eldest of three but I'm the second oldest in my family. My brother Cooper is seven years older and he was a single birth. He's an aspiring actor out in LA now. Blaine's the only sibling here and given what happened to him recently, was the inspiration behind my transfer. We're a pretty close-knit family; my Mom's the Dominant, Dad's a submissive although they were both Switches once. Growing up was interesting because we were exposed to the lifestyle pretty regularly. My Mom's big on open communication with all of us; and I'm not ashamed to admit I'm a total Momma's boy so we're really close.' he explains, gesticulating as he does so. 'I lived in Chicago after high school; studied there actually and got a nifty little degree in photography and fine art. I graduated early and was deciding what I should do when everything happened with Blaine. It made the decision of where to enrol really fucking easy.' he laughs. running his fingers through his hair.

Kurt

Kurt listens intently, offering Eric his actual gaze when he's not doing something with the food that requires his focus. Which he does give once the potatoes soften, and the bacon is done enough to set it aside on some paper towels to soak up any left over grease. Draining the potatoes, he starts mixing in the whipped cream and spices in a separate bowl, cutting the bacon up into tiny pieces lastly to set in the mixture. "Oooo, a photographer, huh?" Kurt hums, holding a spoon up for Eric to test taste the concoction of bacon and whipped cream first. "Tell me with your fine artistic tongue of yours if you want me to add anything or if it's fine or anything." Cups his free hand under the spoon, holding it up.

Eric

He steps forward, resting a hand on Kurt’s hip as he does so before parting his lips to take the spoon between them. A satisfied hum leaves his lips and he flicks his tongue to the corner of his mouth to catch the cream that was left. ‘Maybe a little black pepper. A little heat is always a good thing in my humble opinion.’ He muses. He’s reluctant to pull his hand away from the other’s hip but he does so he can return to putting the final touches to their meal. ‘You’re going to have to teach me how to make that.’ He grins.

Kurt

The touch is nice, and Kurt finds himself leaning into it as he watches with interest as the spoon disappears between the others lips. His face ultimately flushing further once his mind goes to a whole other realm of thinking which he chastises himself silently for. "Black pepper it is!" He nods, grateful for the opportunity to pull away and add more black pepper to the cream, giving it a mix and a taste for himself. Though he does laugh. "It's not that hard, Monsieur. It's a French dish actually." Carefully pouring the cream mixture over the potatoes, he mixes them together. "So a photographer's eye means I require your advice on the best angles and lighting options for shooting video myself."

Eric

‘Normally, my subjects don’t ask too many questions but I’m sure I can lend my expertise to your cause.’ He winks. ‘I say that because photographing people, taking portraits is only something I’ve started to explore seriously more recently. I normally take landscape shots.’ He clarifies, nodding his head towards some of the shots he’s already got framed and hung on the wall. ‘What are you shooting a video for?’

Kur

"You're still more of an expert than I am, darling." Kurt muses, setting the potatoes aside to search the fridge and freezer for a vegetable next. Locating a bag of broccoli, he grabs another pot to set the vegetable in with some water and starts to steam it. "I'm not totally at liberty to say, Monsieur. But it's for a good cause." While waiting for the broccoli, he goes to grab some butter. "I'm guessing you're still one for lemonade to drink with this?" He asks, tilting his head. "And while usually we have dessert right away, I'll have to ask your assistance to make it. So the question is, is if you'd prefer we do that now or eat first. Would hate for you to die of starvation, Monsieur."(edited)

Eric

'A secret project? How intriguing Kurt Hummel. You're a man of mystery. I like it.' he grins, although his curiosity shows quite clearly on his face. 'I'd be able to help you much better if you could divulge a secret or two.' he winks. 'Lemonade is good for me. Honestly, you'll find I drink gallons of the stuff. Help yourself to whatever you fancy.' he offers, gesturing towards the fridge. He thinks for a minute before nodding. 'Let's eat first; we can let our stomachs settle while we put dessert together.' he decides, pulling out a chair for Kurt to sit in.

Kurt

Kurt gives a teasing shoulder lift. "Well, I don't like giving everything away on the first date, darling. That's more of a third or fourth date kind of information." Carefully draining the broccoli and adds the butter for flavor, and carries to the the table. "Oh, quite the gentleman," the porcelain male grins as he takes the seat when it's offered. Honestly he couldn't remember the last time he had that done for him, and he was going to soak in the attention as much as he could. It was enough for his cheeks to turn red again, as he lets Eric help himself first before doing the same.

Eric

'If I'd known this was a date Kurt, I'd have brought you flowers.' he remarks, sending a wink in his direction. 'I suppose we can call this a taster date.' he allows, reaching across the table to fill his plate. The meal looks and smells incredible; and it's considerably fancier than anything he would have managed to cook up for himself. 'You keep blushing gorgeous.' he points out, resisting the urge to touch Kurt's cheek. 'It's attractive and adorable but I'm at a loss to figure out why.' he confesses.

Kurt

"Flowers?" He feels his chest flutter, and he has to pause in pouring himself lemonade so he doesn't drop it out of pure shock from someone actually offering. "I mean, I'd never turn down flowers, Monsieur. Unless they're being thrown at me. Because I read once that someone threw some roses with thrones and it unluckily got caught in the girls hair and scratched her eye. Total accident, but can't take a chance." He finished pouring finally, setting the bottle aside with a small shrug. Taking a small bite of the food as it was something heavy and his empty stomach wouldn't be able to handle too much of it at once. "Mmm...can't a boy blush when the company he's keeping is being sweet to him for no real reason?"

Eric

'Yes Kurt, flowers. Romance is important. I'm all for keeping it alive however I can.' He can't deny the flutter he feels at seeing the surprise on Kurt's face. That suggests he isn't being romanced and there's nothing Eric enjoys more than throwing a little love around. 'I promise I will never throw flowers at you and if roses are ever being exchanged, they'll be thoroughly dethorned.' he promises, making a show of crossing his finger over his heart. 'You can blush all you like but I'm not being sweet for no reason. You're interesting, you're kind and you're attractive. Any one of those alone would be enough to draw out a little sweetness.' he insists, sending a wink in his direction. He takes a bite and groans around his fork. 'Holy shit, this is fucking delicious.'

Kurt

The mention of romance being important brings a dubious eyebrow lift from the switch. Silently wishing everyone had the same outlook on that way of thinking. But he doesn't comment, just bites on his bottom lip as the blushing continues. "Well, then I expect flowers for the first official date, Monsieur. Don't let me down now." He teases with a point of his finger, and a small teasing chuckle as he takes another small bite of the food. "And you're going to make a boy explode over here if you keep making me blush like this. Then you'll have yourself to blame afterwards when there's a mess to clean up." Setting his fork down, he picks the drink up and takes a long drink to cool himself down and to fill the void in his stomach. "I told you, I know my way around the kitchen. Next time I'll make something more challenging for you to enjoy."

Eric

'All you have to do is tell me your favourite and I'll make sure to have them on hand.'  He scoots his chair a little closer to Kurt and can't help but push the flirtatious boundary by leaning in and whispering against his ear. 'I can think of at least one other way to make you explode and I suspect we'd both thoroughly enjoy cleaning up the mess.' He turns his attention back to his meal as though he hadn't just alluded to something filthy and continues to eat.  'I'll happily play the taste tester for anything you feel like putting together for me. It'd be entirely my pleasure.'

Kurt

The sudden invasion of personal space was unexpected, but not unwelcome. His entire body tingled with anticipation as the warm breath ghosted against flushed skin. He wasn't sure what he was anticipating, but the flirtatious words went right to his groin forcing himself to sit up a little straighter. Not even having the words to reply, as his jaw goes slack as he keeps his focus directly on his plate of food when Eric pulls away. He can feel he's completely red from head to toe at this point, as everything feels heated and he can hear his own heartbeat inside his head. When he does come back down from wherever he had gone to, he clears his throat. "Well, that's good to know! Because I may just have to put a lot of things together then. You'll probably have to get a gym membership to ensure I don't accidentally fatten you up or something."

Eric

He watches the way he responds to his whispered words. He doesn't interrupt his thoughts and despite his curiosity, he doesn't ask about where Kurt goes in his head. He knows it was forward of him and he's thrilled it seems to have been well-received. 'You know, there's worse things that could happen to me than a little fattening up.' he grins before he pats his stomach. 'I've long given up hope of ever being someone with a six pack. I enjoy my food too much and I don't have the discipline to work out too much.' He keeps his chair in the new position, close enough to be in touching distance of the other although he remains careful to allow him to keep his space. 'What do you have planned for dessert?' he asks.

Kurt

"Such a shame," Kurt muses as he picks at his food again, taking another small bite, "I could use a yoga buddy over the weekend mornings." Giving a small grin as he bites on the fork and sets it down, patting at the corners of his mouth, grateful for the shift in conversation. "Strawberry shortcake, except, not with angel food cake. A lot of people think angel food, but sometimes that a little too sweet. You know? And as you're sweet enough to cause a cavity, we don't need that." With a wink, he pushes himself up from the seat and goes snooping for flour. "It's similar to a biscuit, like with biscuits and gravy? But instead of gravy, it's strawberries and whipped cream."

Eric

'That honestly sounds delicious. I have a terrible weakness for strawberries.' As he's gathering up their dinner plates, he can't help but notice the fact that Kurt has only really picked at his food but he doesn't comment on it. He rinses the plates and loads them in the dishwasher while directing Kurt on where he can find ingredients when necessary. He rolls up his sleeves and takes a position next to him. 'Alright then, you're the boss. Tell me what you need me to do.' he grins.

Kurt

Kurt smirks, grabbing a bowl to start making the dough as Eric cleans up the plates.  Letting himself just stare, maybe get ahead of himself with the fantasizing about enjoying this view a little too much for the moment. He could come back down to reality later. "Well, can you start kneading this and then roll it out to your desired thickness, please? I'll handle the strawberries." Sliding the bowl over towards Eric, he finds a knife to start cutting the stems off first, then slicing them in half. Picking up a pretty juicy half of one to slip between his lips, and offers the other towards Eric.

Eric

He works the dough, concentrating a little more than he probably needs to. He's just about finished rolling it out when Kurt's hand appears near his face. He turns and offers a grin at the offered strawberry. Much like he had when tasting the sauce earlier, he parts his lips and leans forward. This time, he makes a point of sucking Kurt's fingers between his lips long after he's tasted the sweetness of the strawberry. He pulls back with a pop. 'Delicious.'

Kurt

Both of Kurt's eyes widen a bit, and he sucks in a breath to hold it until Eric is done being is total tease. He definitely feels a twitch between his legs this time, and he gives a little giggle from the delicious comment. "You, Monsieur, are ridiculous." He shakes his head, returning to the job at hand to blend the strawberries together and get the oven turned on. "Just got to cut those bad boys into biscuit shapes, put them in the oven, wait for them to rise, cool off, and then we can eat them. Go team!"

Eric

'Ridiculous maybe, but it's making you grin.' he points out, although his eyes definitely flicker south to gauge any other potential reaction. He does his best to cut neatly but the dough is a little sticky and this isn't something he has a great deal of  practice with. His circles are all mostly the same size and all the same thickness. Once the oven has heated up, he slides the tray in and closes the door. 'So how long do we have before we need to take them out?' he asks, returning to the edge of Kurt's personal space. 'I mean, the kitchen already smells fucking delicious so I'm impatient to get eating them.'

Kurt

Sucking some of the strawberry juice off his own fingers as his personal space gets invaded somewhat again. Deciding to up the playful teasing as he looks at Eric through his eyelashes and removes his finger from his mouth, sticking one hip out more with a soft hum. "It takes twelve minutes to bake, and then about twenty minutes to cool down enough to eat. So, that's 42 minutes to do as we wish." Head tilting, he closes in the distance between them for a second, eyes dropping to Eric's mouth before he swiftly moves away. "So I suggest we finish getting you fully unpacked!"

Eric

He reaches out and catches Kurt's hand, giving him a quick tug to pull him back against his chest. 'I've been unpacking all day.' he laments, resting his head on the other's shoulder. 'It's absolutely the last thing I want to do.' He enjoys the tease; it's reassuring to have Kurt respond and play along. It lets him know he wasn't the only one wanting to push boundaries. 'Give me another suggestion.' he demands, sliding his arms more securely around his waist. 'Unpacking my shit can't be the way you want to spend a Saturday. What do you want to do? Or make a suggestion as to what you'd like me to do.' he winks.

Kurt

Another giggle, an actual genuine giggle, escapes as he's pulled back as his hands find a resting place on the Dominants arms. Comfortable to keep the closeness between them. Head tilting back for a moment as he just radiates total amusement. "I don't know, Monsieur. I think I'd be very, very good at unpacking what you brought." Waggles his brows suggestively, and brings a hand over to trace along Eric's bearded jaw. "But then again, this isn't a third date. Can't rush too fast into unpacking all of you just yet. So I'll settle for you kissing me. If you want." He leans in a bit closer to whisper. "Truth be told, I haven't kissed anyone with this much facial hair and I'm highly curious."

Eric

He nuzzles his chin against Kurt's hand, giving him a taste of how scratchy his beard can feel against a person's skin. 'It's not for everyone.' he admits. 'Some people love the sting of a little beard burn and some people hate it but it would be my absolute pleasure to kiss you Kurt Hummel.' he nods in agreement. He's gentle when he presses him back against the kitchen counter, light when he leans in and catches his lips in a smooth kiss. His hands remain tight around his waist and he leans a little of his weight against him. Twelve minutes before the biscuits need to come out of the oven; time he can very easily fill by kissing the Switch. He kisses him deeper and nips at his lower lip. He's languid and lazy and he takes his time in exchanging chaste kisses lightly pressed to his lips, to longer, more insistent kisses that suggest he wants so much more than he currently has.

Kurt

"Lucky for you I keep my face moisturized for such harsh elements." Kurt teases, following the movement so he can be pressed against the counter. His natural instinct to let the Dominant to take control for this first kiss of theirs. His eyes fall closed, and his arms slip around the other man's neck. It's a different feeling, with the rough feeling against his sensitive skin, but it's not all that unpleasant. If anything it's just a solid reaction to set the butterflies insane in the pit of his stomach bringing a small yet sharp inhale. His lips follow every swipe and nip, chasing Eric's lips down in refusal to let them break apart just yet. Even with his head going light, and his hands feeling shaky, he doesn't want it to stop.

Eric

In Eric's opinion, kissing can exist entirely on its own. It doesn't have to be leading to something more because there's something so wonderfully intimate and intense about it alone. Kurt responds to him perfectly; he follows rather than leads and it's a huge ego boost that his lips seem to chase after him to keep a solid connection. He brings a hand up to Kurt's face, stroking his thumb over his cheek as he pulls back just enough to suck in a breath. 'Don't forget to breathe gorgeous.' he murmurs, giving him the opportunity to do so before he's kissing him again. He's more insistent again and he trails his lips from Kurt's to mouth along the smooth line of his jaw, very aware that his beard will scratch at the otherwise flawless skin as he goes.

Kurt

As the Dominant pulls away so they can both catch their breath, Kurt exhales shakily. He doesn't want to open his eyes though, as he's swimming in the feeling. The feeling light as a feather that was doing wonders and he was floating in it, never wanting to come back down. He feels so needy and vulnerable, and it has only been a kiss. A good kiss. But he wanted more. As much as he could get. As the others lips find his again, he feels himself smile into it this time. When was the last time he had smiled? He couldn't place a time or place beforehand. And things only escalated when the rough feeling traveled down to his jaw, which Kurt gives him total control in doing. It feels heavenly and he can't help but whimper.

Eric

The whimper sends sparks throughout his body. Kurt sounds so delightfully needy and he's only too happy to be the one to take care of that need. He nips at his jaw and slides his hand up into his hair. His grip isn't tight enough to cause him real pain but it's enough to be felt, it's enough to be able to tug his head to the side which gives him greater access to his neck. He continues his assault there, carefully altering the amount of pressure he replies and never doing one thing long enough to allow Kurt to completely adjust to it. He can feel the steady thump of his pulse and that's the exact spot he chooses to kiss over. He bites down, he sucks and hollows his cheeks; anything he can do to pull blood to the surface of his skin and ensure he's left with a vivid bruise. The timer on the oven goes off and that's the only thing that forces him to pull back. 'Stay right there.' he instructs. giving his waist a squeeze. 'Don't move a muscle. I'm going to take the biscuits out of the oven and then I'm going to come right back here.'

Kurt

Usually Kurt hated when his hair was messed with. But in this moment, he was far too gone. His body was on fire and wanted for Eric to be as close as possible and touch everywhere he could reach. If anything he gives an even more needy moan as his hair is gripped. His fingers twitch where they're grasping at each other from behind the Dom's neck to keep the closeness. His breath is catching in his chest, and he can't help the eye roll into the back of his head as he feels the pained pinch to his skin. A mark he'd definitely wear with pride. The timer causing him to jerk with surprise. Having totally forgot that they had been baking, as he got himself carried away under Eric's control. Curling his bottom lip into his mouth to bite, he withdraws his arms to keep himself propped against the counter as he's given the order. Or at least, it comes across as one, and he feels goosebumps as a result of it. With a nod, he lets out a shaky: "As you wish, Monsieur."

Eric

The praise falls from his lips without a second thought. 'Good boy.' He couldn't pinpoint exactly the moment things had shifted, or perhaps their roles had always subtly been in play but it isn't a shift he wants to complain about. He slips his hand into an oven glove and removes the tray. He carefully lifts the biscuits with a spatula and lays them along a wooden chopping board to cool down. When he turns back to Kurt, he grins, taking note of the fact that he really didn't move. 'That was a much better way to spend twelve minutes, don't you think?' he remarks, coming back to stand in front of him. 'Are you feeling okay?' he asks next, resting a light hand on Kurt's waist. 'That got to be a little more intense than I planned.' he admits as his eyes search the other's expression.

Kurt

The corners of Kurt's mouth twitch upward in a small grin from the praise given to him as he downcasts his gaze in a bashful manner. But as a good boy, he doesn't move. Just breathes. Breathes in the freshly baked biscuits. Breathes in the faint scent of strawberry stems that were left untouched for now only a few feet away. Breathes in the view of the Dom who had just had his mouth on Kurt's neck and making him melt in his arms. He even takes in another deep inhale as Eric returns, and he easily leans into the touch with a nod. "Just, you took my breath away. Haven't been kissed like that for a while, Monsieur. I let myself enjoy it." He offers another grin. "Was it okay for you? Am I first date material?"

Eric

'To play on a quote from Gone With The Wind, I'm of the opinion that you should be kissed like that often.' he hums, bringing his thumb up to swipe across Kurt's bottom lip. The question is light but it reminds him that perhaps Kurt needs to hear some verbal reassurance. That was his Mom's number one lesson; tell your submissive how you're feeling, what you're thinking. 'I can safely say that your any date material gorgeous.' He takes his hand and draws him through to the living room. The couch and the floor around it are clear; he immediately takes a seat but gives Kurt the option. 'You can sit where you want, or you can kneel if that's where your head's at right now. My preference would be for you to come sit here,' he indicates, patting his lap. 'Or to kneel there.'

Kurt

Kurt is one for having his mind eased before his paranoia gets the better of him. Something he knew he had to work on in his own personal time as it wasn't anyone else's problem but his own. But even so, the reassurance had him relaxing his shoulders from tension he hadn't even realized was there. Keeping his bottom lip caught between his teeth, he takes to following the other into the living space without question. While he personally hated being seen as a submissive usually, as it meant he was expected to serve. Expected to be respectful. Expected to do things against his will just because a higher mark demanded it of him. But right here, right now, he doesn't mind. It's coming easy and he's finding himself trusting quickly. Possibly something he'd kick himself for again, as last time he did that he got hurt. "You want me to kneel in your lap?" Kurt can't help but ask with a teasing grin, though he makes to settle on sitting in Eric's lap without question. "Because kneeling in your lap sounds uncomfortable."

Eric

‘Not necessarily.’ He slides his hands back and forth over Kurt’s thighs as he speaks. ‘It would be as simple as having one knee here and one here.’ He explains, gesturing to the space either side of each of his legs.  He leans up and pulls Kurt down into another kiss. He’s happy to keep this up, to let his lips meet with Kurt’s over and over again; exploring a little further every time. He pulls back and lightly trails his finger over the skin reddened by his beard. His eyes light up with curiosity. ‘Still feeling good?’ He prompts, squeezing his thighs lightly.

Kurt

One delicate eyebrow arches as he presses his tongue along the inside of his cheek with a little smirk. "Oh, you do have a point with that, Monsieur. If you put it that way..." He makes an easy shift to straddle Eric's lap, gently cupping the Dominants face with both hands as he returns the kiss when it's offered to him again. Something he'd never be able to say no to at this point. Not when it was helping him feel so good, like nothing else mattered so long as he had those lips pressed against his. Resting foreheads together the moment the other pulls back again, feeling breathless all over, Kurt smiles. "Oui 'Monsieur. I feel amazing right now. And comfortable. And sated. And...mmmm, so good." Bringing a hand up to twist one of the loose curls around his finger. "Can I ask a favor of you, Monsieur?"

Eric

He realises he needs the reassurance too. It’s not enough to assume Kurt’s enjoying being kissed or that he’s feeling good. He needs to ask and hear the Switch answer him. ‘If at any point you’re not feeling all those good things, I want you to tell me.’ He requests, enjoying the feeling of Kurt’s hands holding his face. ‘Of course you can ask a favour. What’s up buttercup?’

Kurt

"Cross my heart," Kurt promises, making the crossing over the left side of his chest with his right hand, "hope to die or something. Except let's be real, I'm too pretty to die yet." Ducking his head with his own cackle at himself. But once he's given the green light to ask, he lifts his head again as he sits up a little bit straighter. "I would like to request more of your company, if I may? Like...May I spend the night?" He quickly holds his hands up. "And not in a sexual way, I promise. I can even crash on the sofa. I just...have this thing about being by myself for too long. And I can make you breakfast, if you'll let me of course, Monsieur."

Eric

If he hadn’t already thought him adorable, his request and more specifically the way he presented it, would have nailed down that description in his head. ‘You can definitely spend the night gorgeous.’ He agrees. ‘And you definitely won’t be crashing on the couch. I have two spare bedrooms and a bed more than big enough for two so you can take your pick.’ He offers. There’s a sexual joke on the tip of his tongue but he doesn’t make it out of a desire to ensure Kurt feels comfortable. ‘Whatever you want Kurt. I’m happy for any extra time spent with you.’

Kurt

Relief is evident as it washed over his features as he's granted his request. Grinning, he caresses Eric's beard with his thumbs. "Thank you. I really appreciate it, Monsieur." Leaving back in, he presses another kiss to the Dominant's lips, taking a deep inhale as he does so. This time breathing in Eric. Wanting to just remember this moment for a while. "I'd love to spend it in your bed. Though I tend to enjoy snuggling, I hope that's okay?"

Eric

Instinctively, his lips chase after Kurt’s, exchanging several more kisses before he manages to form a response. ‘Snuggling with an incredibly attractive human? Oh, I don’t know. However will I be able to live through something so traumatic.’ He teases, a warm smile firmly in place on his lips. ‘Snuggling, kissing, touching, cuddling; all more than okay things to share when you’re in my bed.’ He promises with a wink.

Kurt

Kurt mirrors the smile, resting his wrists on the others shoulders as he presses in closer. "Sounds promising to me, darling. Perhaps I'd like to kiss you to sleep and then wake you up with one too then." Rubs his fingers through the loose curls a second time, grazing the tip of his nose down the Dom's cheek, over his jaw where he pauses. "Do you have clothes I could sleep in? Because this isn't even our third date, so you can't possibly see me naked yet."

Eric

‘You mean I have to share my bed and I don’t even get to enjoy you nude?’ He feigns disappointment but his smile gives away the fact that he’s not speaking seriously. ‘I’m not as tall as you or as slim so I don’t know how well they’ll fit but you can have your pick of anything in the drawers: feel free to have a good look through for something suitable.’ He invites. ‘Fair warning, the top drawer in the bedside dresser is socks, underwear and sex toys so you might want to avoid that.’

Kurt

"In due time, darling." Kurt hums, pressing a few kisses down Eric's neck. "Everyone is eager to get naked for everyone. But I think I want to make you work for it, Monsieur. Though I do promise, you won't be disappointed." Another soft kiss and he's again lifting his head. "Oooo, sex toys? That just spikes my curiosity with what you're into, actually." Wiggling free from Eric's lap, he jogs to the bedroom and locates the dresser and goes immediately into snooping.

Eric

He waits for a beat, amused at how fast they seem to have connected and how much it doesn’t bother him before he pushes himself to his feet and follows Kurt through to his bedroom. ‘You’re not really going to get a full picture just by seeing a few dildos and a vibrator.’ He points out, leaning against the doorframe. ‘Those are just things it’s useful to have on hand; you never know when you might need to spice something up. The fastest way to find out what I’m into would be to just ask me.’

Kurt

Offering the Dom a raised brow as he holds up one of the dildos and starts to wiggle it out of his own amusement to watch it dance in the palm of his hand. "Spice things up. Do I get to know what you're into, or is that also saved for later?" Setting the dildo back in the drawer, he closes it and squats to open the bottom drawer first. "Which will be fair, but my interest is piqued."

Eric

‘I’d be very into bending you over the edge of my bed and seeing if I can make your other cheeks turn as red as your face has been.’ He teases. ‘Orgasm control is a big thing for me. I think it’s an insane turn-on when someone willingly hands over their pleasure to you. I’m good at denial; I’ve been known to make it last for days. I supposed forced orgasm would be in the same vein as that again, there’s something incredibly hot about someone tied down and forced to cum over and over and over.’ He explains, crossing the room to perch on the edge of his bed. ‘I like short term TPE and I’m really into pain play. Electro play is fun too; you’ve not lived until you’ve orgasmed from electricity.’ He lists off the first few kinks and interests that come to mind. ‘What about you? What are you into Kurt Mystery Hummel?’

Kurt

The mention of being bent over anything sent another shiver down his spine and he feels himself harden in his pants. Keeping himself distracted by locating some sweat pants and a plain tank top. Glancing back at Eric, knowing his face is yet again blushing red. He can't exactly find the words, as he closes the drawer and stands up, purposely holding the two items of clothing in front of himself. His brain had short circuited for a moment. "I—uh. Totally just blanked for a second, um." He Shakes his head. "I'm into a lot of things, Monsieur. I'm definitely a brat, so I'm into being put in my place. Anything rough. Putting my entire control in the hands of someone else." He steps in closer, biting his bottom lip again as his nervous tic of feeling bashful and aroused. "I'm into anything aside from breath play and anything involving the bathroom activities, to be honest. So, I definitely like spankings. In fact, my brat side always misbehaves just to get a few of those."

Eric

He can see Kurt’s mind whirling behind his eyes and he doesn’t do anything to pull him out of it. They’re not in any rush and whether he’s thinking about the information Eric had shared with him or pondering his own answer to the question, he’s entitled to the time it takes to do that. His fingers twitch at his sides; knowing Kurt enjoys a good spanking only increases his desire to give him one. ‘I hope, when we get to know one another more, you give me a reason to take down your pants and pull you over my lap in a very public setting. You’re so sweet I didn’t have you pegged as a brat but now my curiosity is piqued and I can’t wait to see that side of you.’ He closes the little distance left between them and selects the clothes in his left hand. Wear these.’ He instructs; taking the opportunity to exercise his role.

Kurt

Standing in close to Eric, he shrugs slightly. Resisting the urge to just spill he'd let the Dom in front of him do anything he wanted, so long it was to him and for him. His vulnerability and insecurity of being replaced was trying to deep through and he was pushing it down forcefully. "I would love for you to see my bratty side, Monsieur. I only hope you can handle me." He offers a little grin, following instructions by hugging the clothes close. "Yes, Monsieur. May I dress in your bathroom?"

Eric

‘My ex was a brat through and through. I handled her just fine.’ He shares. He lets himself linger in the closeness for a while. ‘But there’s no pressure. Just because we’re talking about sex and kink doesn’t mean I’m expecting that from you. You can decide to pursue or not pursue whatever you want. Regardless, I think you and I are going to be friends.’ He waits a beat before he nods. ‘You can get changed in here. I’ll go back and give you peace.’

Kurt

"Definitely no pressure." He bites back an'i trust you' since it was far too juvenile to jump into that ship. No matter how he was feeling in that moment, he knew in the long run he'd kick himself. He always did. Even so, he grins at the mention of them being friends and his heart flutters. "Thank you, Monsieur." He hums, stealing one last kiss from Eric, and steps back, waiting for the Dom to grant him privacy first so he can change.

Eric

He takes a moment just to look over him; and slowly exhales. ‘I hope you know I’m going to consider breakfast tomorrow our second date.’ He announces before turning on his heel and heading back to the kitchen. He ponders his reasons for coming here and he can only come up with one; Blaine. It was potentially a foolish move but the people he’s met, Kurt Hummel included, are leading him to believe that regardless of his reasoning, he’s made the right choice. While Kurt changes, he sets about whipping a fresh batch of cream for their strawberry shortcake and he cuts up a few extra strawberries just in case.

Kurt

The blush is back, and Kurt can only watch as Eric leaves him alone to change. With the amount of layers he put on to keep the cold on, it would take a while to slip out of the tight jeans, his body singing with praise at the release as things were starting to get very uncomfortable. A feeling he wasn't not used to, as he was human and very much reacted in a physical manner to any attention thrown his way. Similar to a dog salivating at a presenter treat. Something he did feel pathetic about, almost guilty. But he manages to get the sweats on and tie the string to ensure there'd be no slipping off. Sure they were a bit on the 'shorter' side, but they still reached his ankles and kept things loose and comfy. And the chosen sweatshirt fit like a charm, even hanging off of one shoulder slightly as Eric was more broad than Kurt hoped to be. Slipping out of the bedroom, he prods into the kitchen behind Eric and slips his arms around his waist, propping his chin atop his should to peer over at the whipped topping. "Oooo, look at those skills." He teases, stealing a swipe of the sweet fluff to taste with a soft approving sigh.

Eric

'If you're lucky, you'll come to learn my whipping skills are second to none.' Flirtatious banter comes easily and it's evident that it's going to be one of the main ways they communicate. It's a very comfortable position to be in and it's almost as though he fits against Kurt. He continues until the cream is whipped perfectly before turning in Kurt's arms. 'Well, take a step back. Half the fun of you wearing my clothes is me getting to appreciate you in them.' he insists, gesturing with his finger for Kurt to give a little twirl. The pants are definitely too short and the shirt doesn't fit right but somehow Kurt stops the look from being comical. He looks hot. 'I'll be honest, you wearing my clothes just makes me want to take them off.'

Kurt

There's a warm laugh as he steps back as instructed, and gives a pose. Hands on hips, and then one on his face as he gives a slow turn, only to look at the Dom over his shoulder as if to appear sultry, but laughs it off as he turns around fully to face Eric again. He can see how those eyes look him over, and the words that follow are tempting but he slows his roll and awards himself a mental point for resisting. "''Tis only our first date, and apparently me making you breakfast is the second. Patience, darling. The third will be upon you quickly enough." Going for a flirty and bashful pose, as he pretends to bite his pointer finger, twisting back and forth where he stands. "And oh the things we'll do, darling. I'll be a whimpery mess and be begging for you to never stop. And begging you please, oh, yes. Right there." He adds a moaning sound, rubbing his hands together, tilting his head to the side. "Please, Daddy, please. Need you so bad." Being the ultimate brat now, as he grind mischievously and starts Wiggling his hips from side to side.

Eric

Kurt's playing a game and it's one he's only too happy to engage in. 'I'm real happy to accept your boundaries Kurt.' he points out, as his hands find purchase on his waist. He holds him tightly and his mind wanders for a moment thinking about how satisfying it would feel to leave finger shaped bruises on his pale skin. Kurt's words and his actions are going straight to his crotch and he makes absolutely no attempt to disguise his reaction; making a point of holding Kurt still so he can rock his hips forward and grind against him. 'Please keep being a brat gorgeous.' he requests, nipping at the other's earlobe. 'Give me a reason to take your pants down right now and toss you over my lap.' He's itching to do it. 'Don't you forget that third date is coming and when it does, I'm going to pay you back for all your teasing tenfold. You're going to be crying for my cock Princess.' he grins, punctuating his sentence with a quick nip against the bruise he'd left earlier in the evening.

Kurt

Giggling as he presses in as close as Eric invades his personal space again. Something he'd be all too welcoming to without question for a while, as he curls his fingers into the Dom's choice of shirt. Another whimper escapes, though he's unsure if it's because of the grinding happening and the overall friction doing things to him, or the words being promised against his ear. "I don't cry easily, Daddy," Kurt purrs back in response, "but I'll sure enjoy watching and feeling you try." He wraps his arms back around Eric's neck.

Eric

'I have ways of making needy boys like you cry Kurt; and it's all about denying you want you want. You'll be overwhelmed.' The teasing is fun; the banter back and  forth is satisfying in itself but out of a desire to respect Kurt's wishes, he knows he needs to nip it in the bud. If they keep going, they'll both reach a point where waiting for a third date doesn't seem all that important and right now, it seems to be important to Kurt. That's something he plans to respect. He leans down and kisses him soundly. 'But I think we both need to cool off a little because we're not going any further than this tonight. As much as I want to turn your ass red for being a brat, I'm not going to.'(edited)

Kurt

Kurt knows he's right. As he personally is holding out for a reason. Everyone jumps everyone's bones, and it was a reason he was getting hurt by his own intended in that everyone else's bones were getting jumped by him first before Kurt could get a toe dipped in anymore. He wanted to know he was more than just a fuck, fifteen minutes of feel good moments, only to to be pushed off to the sidelines for the next ass to walk by. It doesn't stop him from pouting though, as the brat within never liked being told no. "You'll do it later though, right?" He asks instead, still pouting. "By the third date that is. Pretty please, Monsieur?"

Eric

A smirk curls his lips and he shrugs his shoulders. 'Well, would you look at that? I already have you wanting. I wonder how needy you'll be by the time this elusive third date rolls around.' he winks. If that's a taste of how Kurt's going to plead with him, he can already tell he won't be disappointed with the final product. 'Right now, I'm going to go change out of these jeans because you've made them rather uncomfortable. I want you to take a minute, collect yourself and finish putting our dessert together. You can bring them in the living room when you're ready; we'll eat in there together.' He waits for confirmation Kurt understands, suspecting his brain might be as hazy as his own is, before he heads off towards his bedroom to wriggle out of jeans that are too tight for how hard his cock currently is.

Kurt

The pout is replaced quickly by a small scowl, a playful one anyway, and he's giving a little whine as his head falls back with a long and drawn out sigh. But as he resumes his regular body posture, he nods. "Okay, Monsieur. As you wish." He brings his hands away from the Dom, taking in a deep and calming breath to reel back in before going to picks the biscuits apart and set them in two separate bowls. Drizzling the strawberries on top, even sneaking in a taste now and again when getting the red juice on his fingers, he adds the whipped cream to top it off and carries it to the living room as requested.

[wickedlittleoz]

Steve is seriously sick, Billy doesn’t know, Steve needs to tell him before it’s too late!

I apologize in advancebecause this turned into a bit of a Walk to Remember AU, but the only thingthat came to mind when I read the prompt was ANGST. Thank you, though, nonny,no one’s ever sent me prompts and now I feel like an actual writer XD

It was getting worse.Had been, for the last five years or so, but the meds had managed to hold itback for a while. Not anymore, though.

He had days. Some ofthem he was perfectly fine, all smiles and disposition, laughing and singing (terribly out of tune) with Dustin in thecar, days in which you wouldn’t even know his body was self-destructing cell bycell, 24h a day.

But then came the dayswhere he could barely get out of bed, the very rise-and-fall of his breathingmade him sick, and he was so weak that his hand was shaking when he reached forthe phone by the bed to call Nancy and tell her he couldn’t make it to school.

He couldn’t even blamehis parents for not sticking around much. The treatments were expensive, thedoctors were states away. They had to overwork themselves to keep up with thebills – and now as it appears it was worth shit. Steve was getting worse andthe doctors were, all of them, hopeless.

At first he was toldhe wouldn’t make it to high school. Then he did. Freshman year they started anew treatment that worked wonders for a while. He made it into the basketballteam, played better than anyone else on the team, scored the most points in theregionals and brought the cup home. He became King Steve, life of the parties, masterof the basketball court, professional heartbreaker.

Then they told him hewas already stretching too far. He wouldn’t live to see college days, and Steveactually overheard a doctor tell his parents not to worry about saving money.

But he didn’t care. Hefelt that he was making the best of his life. Going to parties, bossing theschool, hooking up with whoever he wanted. He just wanted to be a normal teenager, doctor appointments andmeds were a secret he didn’t mind struggling to keep.

When Nancy came along,though, that’s when it really hit him. Steve had never been in love before. Shecrawled into his heart and into his life, and sooner than later, she saw one ofthe bad days. Steve had to tell hereverything. He cried and she held him, and when he thought she was going toback away out of his life, she did the very opposite.

His entire body hurtthat day, but his heart ached the worst, filled with so much love.

But he always knew shedidn’t love him as much as he loved her. Sure, it hurt when they eventuallybroke up, but she was better off with Jonathan, who had a long, promising lifeahead of him.

He thinks it wassomething to do with the Upside Down. Being down there must have messed withhis body in a way – air pressure or some expensive scientific bullshit – thatit simply stopped fighting. Bad days jumped from one every 15 days to once aweek. Halfway through the day he would suddenly feel his chest tighten, hisbreathing become erratic, his head begin to spin.

He actually passed outon the court twice before Nancy talked him into signing out of the team, healthfirst, she had insisted. Steve would rather leave than watch Hargrove win themthe championship from the bench, anyway.

It was a bad enoughday without said mullet-wearing asshole cornering him to ask what the fuck hethought he was doing, giving up the team. Steve gave him a generic excuse, hewas sick and couldn’t play anymore. When Hargrove insisted, told him to just“take some cold pills and a bowl of soup”, he nearly broke down crying, becauseSteve wished it was that easy.

Here they were,though, with Billy lying on his chest as the morning sun filtered in throughthe curtains. It was a Bad Day, capital letters, because while Steve knew hehad to get up and take his meds – and should get to it before Billy woke up –,he was dizzy just laying there and breathing.

He sighed, carding hisfingers through the blond curls, and felt the tears wet his cheeks before evenrealizing he was sobbing.

Steve wanted to tellhim. Had to, before he ended up in the hospital and someone in a white coat andzero intimacy to the boy on his chest told him Steve wasn’t coming back home. Billydeserved to know, because he didn’thave much longer. Steve felt it.

Ever since he andBilly had gotten past the fighting and teasing, they’d realized it was allsomething else. Electricity brewed and built around them for days followingSteve resigning from the team, until one night the storm just… Broke. Steve wassitting in his BMW, waiting for Dustin, and when he first caught a glimpse ofthe curly-haired boy and the blast of fiery color that was Max, Billy wassuddenly at his window. Meet me at thewoods tonight. Seven. Don’t be late.

He was almost late, acoughing fit taking the best of his nerves. But Billy made up for it, made himfeel good and wanted, and despite the physical exhaustion, Steve felt the healthier in days.

Their thing had grownquickly, at first just hot, needy fucks whenever Steve’s parents were away andhe had the house. But at some point (most probably when Billy showed up withhis face all fucked up and opened up about his dad) feelings got involved.

Now Steve realizedthat for the first time since this madness had started he actually wanted to live until graduation, andafter. Wanted to run away to California straight out of prom in Billy’s Camaro,blasting rock songs all the way up to the coast, making love in shitty motelbeds and just being young and reckless and inlove.

He feared, as hepinched his nose to stop the sobs, that Billy wished for that, too.

His finger came backred and gooey with blood. Steve sighed, suppressing a cough, and gently pushedBilly off his chest. Billy murmured something unintelligible, but continued tosleep, and Steve slowly teetered his way to the bathroom.

It took a while forthe bleeding to stop, so long that when he finally emerged from the bathroom,Billy had made them breakfast. He smiled, bacon grease smeared over his lips,making them look even plumper, and Steve’s stomach churned. He spun on hisheels immediately and braced the sink.

His body was shakingshallowly with the force of it. He’d had nothing to eat and it was just acidand blood.

Then Billy was there,a warm (clean) hand on his back, brows furrowed in worry. Steve couldn’t helpthe tears, but he washed his face before Billy could see them.

“You okay?”He asked, arm snaking around Steve’s waist when he pushed away from the sink.

“Yeah,”Steve responded – lied –, avoidingBilly’s eyes as he wiped cold sweat off his forehead.

“Sure you don’twanna–”

“No,” healmost jumped and definitely spoke too soon, because Billy’s brows furrowedeven further. So he gave his best attempt at a comforting smile and kissedBilly’s still naked shoulder.

He knew Billy didn’tbelieve him. But he just couldn’t face a hospital with Billy at his side, notyet.

So they spent the dayinside, going from the couch to the bed, with eventual stops at the toilet.Steve fed off salt crackers, OJ, and milk whenever it seemed that Billy wasgoing to comment on his lack of appetite. But mostly he just clung to Billy, asif trying to make the best out of their last moments.

It felt ominous.Imminent. As if he subconsciously already knew it was going to happen and when – soon.

Suddenly his chestfilled with a sort of warmth as he looked up at Billy, blond curls splayedaround his head like a heavenly halo. Steve felt happy, so happy, strangelyhappy that he’d had the chance to be loved.

“We need totalk,” he announced around eight, as they lay on the couch. Billy’s hand,where it rested on Steve’s stomach, grip loose around the remote, jerked intoaction, turning off the TV. He sat up, gently pushing Steve off his chest, andthey were suddenly face-to-face.

“What’swrong?” He was grinning, but Steve could see it in his eyes that Billy wasworried.

He stopped. How didone approach the subject of death? To Billy, of all people, who had lost hismom and found home in Steve’s arms, and given Steve so much love and will tolive. How could he have the courage to tell Billy that it was all going to endand there was nothing any of them could do?

He was sobbing, tearsleaving dark stains on his sweatpants, even before he started to speak.

“I’m sick,”he managed between sobs, eyes lingering on his hands. He heard Billy chuckle unamused.

“Yeah, Inoticed.”

“No Billy, youdon’t get it,” he sniffed, mustering the courage to look up. Billy’s facewas a mask of confusion, that quickly became worry and he scooted closer toSteve when their eyes met. “I'm–I’m dying.”

Billy was silent for aheartbeat. Then two. He watched Steve’s face, his eyes, as if searching forsomething that pointed that this was nothing but a tasteless joke.

But Steve’s wide, wet,dark eyes were truthful.

“What do youmean, dying?” He asked hesitantly, voice but a soft murmur.

Steve felt his throatclosing as he tried to speak. He choked, and coughed into his hand, and Billydidn’t miss the blood on his palm this time.

“I have leukemia,”he said, more to his hand than to Billy. They both watched the blood with asort of awe for a moment.

“When?”Billy asked darkly, the way Steve knew he did when he was trying not to cry.

“I don’t knowyet,” he said, wiping his hand on his pants, and Billy held it and lacedtheir fingers. “I’m going to see the doctor next week, but my body’sjust… Not fighting anymore.”

As if to prove apoint, another coughing fit shook his body. He wasn’t sure if the tears in hiseyes were his crying or coughing.

He felt Billy’s eyesscorching him. Steve remembered, then, a few nights ago, as they lay spent onSteve’s bed and Billy traced his ribs with the tips of his fingers, he hadlaughed and said he should probably feed Steve better because he was gettingtoo thin.

Steve had dropped 10lbssince then, hipbones jutting out sharp enough to cut or break, most likely thelatter. But Steve liked the idea of Billy cooking for him. Made him feel caredfor.

“And where thefuck are your parents?” Billy spat angrily, and Steve saw in him his 14-year-oldself, pissed at the world and whatever god there was that Steven Harringtonfrom Nowhere, Indiana had been chosen as the self-destructing time bomb of thedecade.

“These treatmentsare expensive, Billy,” Steve said tiredly, because his 17-year-old selfwas too far into acceptance to get heated. “Most of the doctors on my casearen’t even from Indiana. We can only afford these things because they’re always out working.”

“But–But thisisn’t right, Steve!” He stood suddenly, started pacing up and down like acaged animal. Steve knew the feeling, knew what it was like to feel like you’regoing to explode as you try to digest the information. “This isn’t right,it isn’t fair, you shouldn’t have to deal with all this… All this bullshit alone!”

“But I’m notalone. I have you and Nancy and the kids–”

“They allknow?” He stopped and stared at Steve, and he saw quick glint of jealously– he was the last to know.

“JustNancy,” Steve hurried to respond. He hadn’t yet been able to figure outjust how to tell Dustin. The boy had been through too much already for a kidhis age.

Billy sagged by hisside again, heaving a sigh. They were silent for a moment, the air heavy andtension nearly tangible, and the world around seemed to mimic them, suddenly tooquiet that he could almost believe it was a dream that he was close to wakingup from.

But Steve knew betterthan to cheat himself like that. It was no dream. It was very real, as real asthe weight and warmth of Billy’s hands between his two, his thin, pale fingersfeeling smaller than ever against Billy’s tanned skin. It was as real as theever-growing love he felt for Billy, the love that made his heart seem too bigfor his chest sometimes, and that had been his cure.

It was only because he’dbeen loved so deeply and intensely and honestly that Steve was not afraid.

They didn’t fuck thatnight, but neither of them slept, either. They lay curled into each other, as iftrying to mark the scent forever. Steve felt the tears Billy had been holdingback dampen his hair and pillow, and held him tighter.

Billy was right, itwasn’t fair. And as he gazed into those blue, blue eyes that had taken hisbreath away from day one, he wished someday Billy managed to get out ofHawkins. That he made it back to California, safe and sound, and started over.And that one day, when he sat on the sand to watch the warm and orange sun rise(nothing like the sad, cold and blue Hawkins sun), he felt the wind and heardit whisper in Steve’s voice, I love you,I love you, I love you.

[bxchanansbarnes]

What You Want *** (Part 1)

Summary: Steve and Y/N have been friends for as long as they can remember. They were inseparable, two peas in a pod that when apart for too long, seemed to crumble. What happens when Steve begins to act weird? What happens when their friendship is tested?

Pairings: Steve x Reader, Eventual Bucky x Reader

Warnings: Fluff!!! 

Word Count: 1.7k+

A/N: I’m finally back and with a new series! I still suck at this whole summary thing, but I’m trying, I swear! This one’s starting off slow by by time we get to the third part... feel free to yell at me through my inbox :) Taglist is OPEN!!

Series Masterlist - Part Two

A bed was far more than just a bed. It was a sanctuary, an escape from the imperfect world that you had formed a life in. It was a safe place, a sanctuary that could transport you straight into relaxation, where you could forget about all your worries. Or so, you thought. 

When the sound of a clatter sounded through your apartment, you sprung up, pulling your earbuds from your ears and moving your laptop to the side. Your heart pounded in fear as you assumed all of the worst possibilities you could imagine. Slowly, you crept out from the covers of your bed that had previously enveloped you in comfort, tip-toeing towards the door of your bedroom. 

From here you could gear the muffled sounds of footsteps and soft curses. You held your breath to the point that you were certain you would collapse from a lack of much needed air filling your lungs as you carefully opened the door. 

When a soft squeak of the somewhat rusted hinges filled the silence, your stomach drop. What if the intruder had heard you? What if they had a gun? Facing your fears, you opened the door just enough so that your figure could squeeze through without attracting unwanted attention from whoever the hell was in your apartment. You let out a whiff of air as you snuck past the wooden door, placing your feet gently in front of the other as you snuck your way towards the living room. 

To say you were scared was the understatement of the year. You were terrified, shitting bricks as you were able to hear the sound much clearer. They had to be coming from the kitchen. As you made it to the small living room, you made your focus the closet the was just up against the wall that led to probably the second-best room, besides your bedroom, obviously. 

You smiled victoriously as you made it to the closet. You rummaged through the contents, searching for one thing that could help you to defend yourself. You seriously needed to clean through this thing. It was horrific. You smile grew wider as you took a hold of the broom your best friend had bought you when you first moved in. It was surely his idea, given that the colors were a screaming red and blue. You backed away from the closet before reaching for the door to close it. 

“W-what are doing?” With a scream, you fell forwards into the closet. Hitting your elbow against the vacuum cleaner. You turned around as you heard laughter. He was clutching his stomach as his eyes were squeezed shut. 

Squinting, you growled, “Steven Grant Rogers! I swear to- ugh!!! You could’ve called, or texted me!” You stood up, rubbing your elbow to ease the shot of pain that had run throughout your arm. 

Steve was still shaking as laughs erupted from his large figure, “I-I’m sorry, but that was really fun. You should’ve seen yourself! Besides, I know better than to text you when you are obviously writing. You nearly murdered me when I got here last time.” You rolled your eyes as your ears flooded with the sound of your pounding heartbeat. 

“I did not! If I wanted you dead, Rogers, you would be dead.” You snarled, rolling your eyes as you walked towards the kitchen to grab something to calm you from you fear. Food, sleep, and writing were your therapy. 

Steve scoffed, “You threatened to shove a hoagie down my throat and wrap me around a pole! Then, when I laughed, you tackled me to the ground and nearly sucked the life out of me, Y/N!” 

You smiled, quite proud of yourself for taking down your giant of a friend. But, he wouldn’t fight back, so you wouldn’t have won in the end. You still got to brag that you out-bested him and that was enough. “Well, you learned not to mess with me when I’m I my zone, didn’t you?” 

Rolling his eyes at you, he opened the fridge. “But, seriously? What are you doing here at…” you turned to look at the time, your eyes nearly pooping out of your head, “At three in the morning! Steve!” 

Steve shrugged as he pulled out a carton of eggs and milk, looking between them and you. “Uh, making breakfast?” 

You threw your hands in the air, “Again, at three in the morning!?” Steve pulled out a pan before setting it on the stove. He was completely serious. With a sigh of defeat, you slumped down at one of the bar stool at the counter. 

“I knew you’d be up, since you couldn’t stop rambling about this grand new idea you had for a story. It was quite adorable if you ask me.” He winked at you. You grabbed the closest thing to you, which, unfortunately for him, was a salt shaker, tossing it at him. He caught it effortlessly. 

You scoffed as you put your chin in your hand, “Show off.” Steve flashed a smirk back at you, pride evident in his blue eyes. As Steve continued to make eggs, and pancakes, and practically anything and everything that you owned in your kitchen, you ventured back to your bedroom to get your beloved laptop, then headed back to join Steve and his shenanigans. 

By the time you had returned, you were in awe at the sight of the kitchen. Pots and pans were scattered across the counters and the floors. Pancake batter was splattered across the walls. “Steve! What the hell did you do? How did you manage to get it on the ceiling? H-how?” 

Steve turned with a bashful smile at his lips, “Uh… skill? I honestly don’t know.” Despite your efforts to preserve an appalled façade, you couldn’t help but burst into a seamlessly never-ending fit of laughter at your best friend. Sure, his timing was a bit ridiculous, but he always found a way to bring a smile to your face that would still remain even hours after he would take off. You set your laptop down on the counter, before moving towards the counter to the left of the stove where Steve was preparing an unexpected meal. 

The intoxicating smell of bacon, eggs, prepared just the way you liked them, and the sweet smell of pancakes along with the smell of toast that had been in the toaster for too long. You scrunched your nose up as you took the charred whole wheat slices from where they were obviously crammed in, nearly ripped in half and squashed tightly into the slots. You watched as Steve moved to get out two white plates from your cabinets. Of course, he would know where everything was in your apartment. He should pay rent; after all, he is here at least five days a week. 

As he was turned around, you snuck a slice of bacon from where they were placed on a plate with a paper towel. You shrieked as the scorching temperature of the crisp meat burned your tongue, causing you to drop the slice from you hold onto the floor, capturing the blond’s attention from where he was putting two pancakes on each plate. His eyebrows were knitted closely together, you were sure it was a unibrow, as he tried to figure out what had happened. Steve’s mamma-bear instincts kicked in as he rushed over to you, assessing what seemed to have caused you to rush to grab a glass of ice cold water. 

His hand found its place on your lower back. A shiver ran up your spine, giving you a sort of tickle sensation as he asked what was wrong. Once you had calmed down you drew out a long ‘ow’ pointing to your burnt tongue. Steve’s shoulder slumped down as he shook his head, a boyish grin at his lips, “See, that’s why you shouldn’t steal, Y/N. Have you learned your lesson, yet?” You scrunched your nose up at him, before moving to the bar stool in front of your laptop. 

You put your hand up, mocking his words. “Have you learned your lesson yet?” Steve laughed as you stuck your tongue out at him, wincing from the slight pain that still resided in your mouth. Steve clapped his hands together as he eyed the two ceramic plates with such pride and triumph. He placed one of the plates in front of you. 

You smiled as you gawked at it as if it were going to be the last thing you would ever eat. From the fluffy pancakes to the crunchy, brown bacon, you were ready to dig in. Steve smiled as you moaned at the pancakes. Sure, he was unorganized when he was cooking, but he always somehow managed to make some of the best food you’ve had. You didn’t understand. You would look up recipes and follow then step by step and you would be pleased with it; but, when Mr. ‘I wear the American flag on my underwear’ does, it’s nothing less than amazing. ‘Amazing’ didn’t even seem to live up to the taste of the food or its texture. It was stupid, but you weren’t one to complain about him making you food. 

He moved towards the fridge pulling out the orange juice before pouring two glasses. You thanked from as you practically inhaled all of the food; by now, you were barely able to keep your eyes open. Like the best friend he was, he shut down your laptop, not until he made sure all of your work had been saved, though. He took your plate and glass over to the sink along with his own. He quickly returned, telling you to wrap your arms around his neck. 

With a soft mumbled you complied, allowing him to scoop you up into his strong muscular arms. You buried your nose into the crook of his neck, his scent filling your nose. It was a mixture of teak wood and peppermint, a scent you could only classify as ‘Steve’.  

He laughed as he nearly whacked your head against the door-frame of your room, muttering an apology, then proceeding to place you in your bed. He pulled the covers over you, pushed the stray hairs away from your face, then soft pressed a kiss to your forehead, bringing a small smile to your face that would be present throughout the night and even morning. You were able to make out his figure retreating through the door, looking back to whisper a soft ‘goodnight’ as he turned off your light and shut your door, leaving a small crack. You smiled at him before shutting your eyes, drifting into a fictional reality you wouldn’t want to wake up from in the morning.

Series Taglist ( OPEN ):

[dezembergirl]

Good Morning

the third part of my series, part one and two

Fandom: Skam

Pairing: Noorhelm

Type: one shot/series

originally posted to ao3

Thank you all for all the love for this series, I really enjoy writing it and I’m glad people like it. (This part has a bit of a different tone, but don’t worry there is definitely more to come!)

- as always this is dedicated to @nonibanoni <3

Noora normally hated dreams, they were filled with voices and faces of people she would rather burn from her memory. But she didn’t care about them this night. Her mind was filled with vivid images of lush forests filled with high swaying fir trees and endless beaches with crashing waves. The breeze mussed her dancing hair and her lungs reveled in every deep and salty breath. Her footprints twirled in circles and the sand crunched between her bare toes.

«Noora» and again «Noora»

She was spinning and spinning faster with ever turn while the blues and yellows mixed into an indistinguishable stream of colours before her eyes. Her body lost balance but instead of hitting the sand, she slumped into a soft mattress and bundles of sheets.

«Morning» a mumble against her ear followed by a light kiss on her forehead.

She narrowed her eyes to lessen the sudden flood of light numbing her brain. A groan fell from her lips and she stretched the muscles in her neck to relieve the tension. The white turned to shapes and morphed into the subtle shades of creams and greys that were William’s bedroom.

The realization sent her mind tumbling but before her body could follow the onset of panic cooking in her head, strong arms pulled her close. She recognized William’s hoodie and the dark bits of his hair sprawled on the pillow next to her.

«You slept well?» the softness of his words stole a sigh from her.

Wiping the sleep from her eyes, her hands brushed away the left over sand and tangled strands of blond hair from her face. Beside her William studied every of her sleep drunken movements and his lips spread into an impossibly wide grin when her gaze found his face. The messy pieces of hair falling onto the pillow and his warm eyes suited him better than they should, Noora acknowledged.

Completely disregarding his question she lost herself in the little features in his face she hadn’t bothered to notice before and missed in their dark kisses last night. He was handsome, not that that accounted for anything but she questioned how she hadn’t seen it before now. She had been so dead set on hating William and making him fit into the cut out version of the asshole she had needed him to be, to bother with any even slightly redeeming quality.

Of course, his sweet smiles and charming words didn’t detract from the inexcusable things he had said to Vilde, but they certainly made it harder to despise him for it. Following William home may have been a mistake but there was no way to make undo it now and a bigger portion of her than she would like to admit, didn’t want to. The kisses still made her stomach flutter at the thought of his soft touches last night. She envied her carefree self from yesterday and blood heated her cheeks when her attention fell from his attentive eyes to the curve of his cheekbone and landed on the grin spreading his lips.

Noora was too aware of the fact that she should get up, check the time, which was bound to be later than usual for her Saturday mornings, and get dressed in her own clothes. She definitely shouldn’t nuzzle her face deeper into the feathery pillow and give William the reveling smile she did. Certainly shouldn’t have allowed him to kiss her than either.

«I should go.» she half heartedly mumbled the words against the hot skin of his neck.

«Stay» he offered and pressed a trail of kisses along her jawline.

She didn’t refuse. Instead her fingers trailed down his chest and played with the cords of his sweater.

«How long have you been awake.» Noora pursed her lips.

He was fully dressed, in casual clothes, and he rested on top of the duvet. His fingers combed through her messy hair and placed on last kiss to her cheek before pulling her into a sitting position.

«I still owe you breakfast, you left too quickly last time.» William threw her a content grin and Noora barely had time to raise her eyebrows before he hopped off the bed and disappeared into the kitchen.

She had been right last time in thinking he wouldn’t let her leave without a fight - or in this case eggs and bacon - if she hadn’t slipped out of his bed in the early hours of dawn. The smells spreading through the apartment were in fact heavenly and the grumble in her belly confirmed her dire need for something edible.

Discovering her dead phone from the night stand, she forced her reluctant body out of William’s dangerously comfy bed and tied the very big pare of sweatpants around her waist to keep them from slipping down her bare legs.

William greeted her with an overly joyous smile and nodded towards the set plates on the kitchen table.

«You really weren’t kidding.» she bit the grin spreading on her lips.

«You don’t have a lot of faith in me.» William elegantly slipped the eggs onto their plates and took the seat across from her.

«Well, a guy like you doesn’t exactly inspire trust.» she watched him poor them each a glass of orange juice.

«What kind of guy is that?» he shook his head slightly, flicking his hair away from his eyes and gave her the most innocent smile.

Fuck, the way he looked at her made it increasingly harder to argue her formerly bullet proof case.

«The kind that has slept with half the school.»

«Ouch» William faked outrage and popped a bit of egg in his mouth, clearly contemplating his answer. «We didn’t sleep together though.» The banter thrown across the table morphed into something more serious and the small crease in his brows made her swallow.

«And we never will.» she stated and sensed her mouth go dry as Williams eyes studied every hint in her eyes proofing the jest behind her words. But she did mean them.

«Okay»

«This here» Noora gestured with the fork between them «us, it doesn’t exist.»

«Okay» his half hearted replies certainly didn’t make it easier to find the right words to convey the confusion running ramped inside her head.

«You think a few charming smiles and breakfast will make me change my mind about you.» he almost laughed at that but bit it back in favor of not irritating her any further.

It had been foolish to stay the night and the way he had slightly turned his head to the side waiting for another insult to come his way only proofed the false impression she had given him. Kissing him felt good - better than good - but that meant nothing. People their age hooked up all the time and it never equaled a deeper relationship.

«I thought this was the phase were we lie in bed and laugh and eat breakfast together.» he tried to suggest with a casual tone, that wasn’t a hundred percent honest. «Not fight» William added.

«But there is no we, no us.» the desperation forced her voice up an octave.

He studied her and she could see the disappointment seeping though the cracks of his faltering smile. It wasn’t honest, all an act on his part. She repeated it over and over in her mind. Her fingertips traced along the rim of her juice glass to preoccupy her mind with something else than his firm gaze.

«I like you.» he had put his cutlery down and reached one hand out across the table. The weight behind his words made them echo in her ears and drew a shiver across her arms. She refused to listen.

«That changes nothing.» she carefully crossed er arms and rose her chin to give point to her statement.

He had most likely said the same words to countless girls before her. None of this meant anything and she wasn’t stupid enough to fall for this shit. To her own dismal, she felt the tears growing heavier with every passing second of silence.

Noora was being ridiculous, and part of her knew it. But it was easier to refuse that last night had meant anything at all, than to acknowledge the hoard of contradictory feelings and voices buzzing like fireworks in her head.

«And you like me.» he carefully continued and Noora found herself staring back, completely dumbfounded.

The denial already rested on the tip of her tongue but before she could spit the words out, she felt Williams hand curl around her own and her mind combusted into a thousand sparks.

«I don’t want to hurt you.» his thumb drew circles across the pale skin on the back of hand. «You don’t have to do anything. You don’t have to say anything, but please don’t tell me that all of that yesterday meant nothing.»

She shook her head, not exactly sure what part of his statement it was directed at.

«No, I just» she bit her lip «this is too much, I need some time to think and …» her voice faltered again.

Not thinking was what had gotten her into this situation in the first place. There was much to sort through, and she couldn't do that here, in William’s apartment with his eyes that saw far beyond the uncertainty of her slumped shoulders.

There was no way she could remove the stray tear without it catching William’s attention, so she half turned her face from his and wiped it away with the seam of the borrowed sweater.

«You’re too smart for your own good, you know that?» his lips curled into a smile and she felt her hand relax in his. «I didn’t mean to pressure you.»

«I know» she squeezed his hand. «I’m sorry.»

«I can drive you home, if you want. And you can text me whenever you feel like it. Okay?»

«Okay» the smile on her lips grew and so did the warmth in her chest when William reached across the table to place a kiss on her lips.

«I’ll text you.» Noora loosened her seatbelt and pushed the car door open.

«Good» William hummed against her lips.

If this was what it took to be with her, he gladly settled for a promised text message; and he would make sure to always keep some pre-made chocolate milk in the fridge.