#spilled flour everywhere once and i still find it no matter how much i clean

[ritualis]

y ou

ar e

n o t

her e

s o

w hy

d o

i

h ope

[poodlejoonas]

Niko - Thoughtful Disasters

For @bcfanweek​ Day 2: Niko

Words: 1,382

Description: Niko’s no professional baker, but he wants to make your birthday a special one.

Notes: Niko Moilanen/Reader (gender unspecified)

Niko was panicking just a tiny bit. He’d been so busy with the album recording lately that he forgot that your birthday is coming up in less than 12 hours. He meant to buy you a legitimate present but it totally slipped his mind. Now here he was, stuck trying to read a cake recipe under his kitchen’s shitty lighting and throw you together a makeshift gift.

You loved Niko, but you also knew that he was the worst when it came to remembering dates. He once sprung anniversary dinner plans on you at 3 PM and he picked the first random place that came to mind. Sometimes he even forgets about Christmas, and finds himself working in the studio at the stroke of midnight on New Year's. You've grown accustomed to knowing that if it was an important date, Niko would probably miss it. 

You were still at work and wouldn’t be coming home until later. In the meantime, Niko was pondering over all the ingredients he would need to bake. He was squinting trying to read his own messy handwriting when he received a phone call from Joel asking where he was.

“I’m uh… at the supermarket. Do you know how to bake a cake?”

Joel sighed from the other end. “You forgot their birthday, didn’t you?”

Niko hung his head in shame and remained silent for a solid 10 seconds. “I know, they’re probably going to kill me, don’t you think?”

“I doubt it. They’re pretty chill, but if it’s that big of a deal, I can come over and help.”

“Please do,” Niko begged, which made Joel laugh out loud.

“It’s that bad, huh?”

--

Not even an hour later, Joel was pulling into Niko’s yard ready to help. The two vocalists met in the kitchen, where Niko had already haphazardly thrown the ingredients into separate bowls. To call it a mess would be a disrespectful understatement. There were bits of egg shells on the floor and flour coating the counters. It was obvious that Niko had tried to scoop the excess flour into his trash can, but his fingers left streaks across the dark blue counter. The chocolate powder was its own mess, as he’d already tried to mix in milk before the rest of the ingredients. Niko’s normally black t-shirt and basketball shorts were coated in flour, and some of it turned the tips of his hair white.

Joel paused and took a good look around the kitchen. “Jesus Christ, dude,” he muttered. “Did you murder the Muffin Man in here?”

"Shut up," Niko whined. “I had to scroll through this bitch’s life story to even get to the recipe and I got annoyed.”

Joel snickered and shook his head. “Of course you did. Anyway, let’s throw all of this together. You have a cake beater, right?”

“A what?”

“You know, the thing that goes…” and then proceeded to make a series of mechanical and whooshing noises.

“Oh, that thing- FUCK, that’s what I forgot.”

Joel would be more sympathetic if he could only stop laughing at poor Niko’s plight. He looked stressed making up for almost forgetting your birthday again, but Joel could tell that he wanted to do his best for you. He always thought that you two made a great couple. Behind Niko’s gritty exterior was a man who had a heart for his partner.

“Okay, so I guess I’m gonna…” Niko contemplated using his hands to mix the bowl until he realized that it was going to be a bigger mess than the one he’s already made now. Instead, he grabbed the wooden spoon and began to sift it until it started blending in. “How long should I do this?”

“Until it looks evenly mixed.”

“Thanks, Captain Obvious.”

Niko was unsure if he brought Joel over for help or just the banter. The older vocalist cleaned up the mess while Niko continued to stir the spoon. At one point, he almost lost his grip on the bowl and spilled its contents onto the floor.

“Want me to finish it?” Joel offered, seeing that he needed a minute to relax. Niko almost immediately accepted his offer and took a break to check his phone and sip some water. He nearly did a spit take when he saw that you were coming home from work earlier than planned. Something about your manager being nice enough to let you go early so you can begin celebrating your birthday. Your work place was only 20 minutes from home, and you sent the message 7 minutes ago.

“Dude, kill me.”

Joel looked up from the bowl to find a slightly panicked Niko realizing that the kitchen was a mess, dinner hadn't even been started, and the cake still had half an hour left on it before it was done. There was no way he could laugh at him now. “Hey, calm down. Maybe you can order something in? You know they’re not picky about what they eat.”

“I know, it’s just… I feel like such a dumbass because I can never remember the important stuff. I think they should just dump me at this point.”

“Hey, that’s not true! Sure you forget things, but you’re still so genuine when you do things for them. I was talking to them a few weeks ago and they had nothing but glowing things to say about you.”

Niko was listening but his mind continued to race. But it was comforting to hear from someone else in the band that you speak so well of him when he’s not around. “I get it. I just hope they like the cake later.”

“I’m sure they will. Now, let’s get this in the oven and then we can think about dinner.” With 10 minutes left until you came home, the cake was baking and the kitchen was being cleaned. You walked in on the two of them putting away the cleaning supplies and chatting happily as if nothing had just happened. Niko tried to give you a hug but all you could do was laugh as you got a good look at his flour-stained clothes.

“Oh, yeah… let me fix that.” And without another word, he was off to change clothes in your room.

Joel stood in the kitchen with a knowing grin. He said he’d come over to help him put together a “surprise” for you. He didn’t say what it was, but the smell from the oven gave it away. Niko returned and proposed the idea of ordering Chinese food, which you happily accepted since you had Hunan chicken on your mind for a while. The both of you offered to let Joel stay for dinner so he wouldn’t have to drive all the way back to Helsinki tonight. Joel chose to play bartender while the food was on its way.

The three of you were several drinks and large dinner specials into the night when suddenly the smoke alarm began to beep. Niko sprang on instinct once he remembered - fuck, the cake! The chocolate cake blackened around the edges and crumbled under the impact of the cutting knife. The music stopped and the only sound was Niko groaning. He looked beyond done with the situation.

“Love?” you asked quietly.

“I’m sorry I ruined your birthday,” he apologized profusely. His eyes were sympathetic and he looked like he wanted to shrink away from everything. You just held him because there was no resentment for him at all.

“You didn’t ruin a thing, kulta,” you whispered. “It was really the thought that mattered. Besides, you do so much for me every other day of the year, so what’s wrong with a day where we just get to chill?”

Niko leaned up and thought about it. “That’s true. Do you want to do anything tomorrow?”

“Just a movie and some leftover Chinese food with you.”

The moment between you was touching, and then Joel spoke up. “I can go back home tonight if you lovers are getting any ideas.”

You and Niko laughed. “Nah, we just need you here to make more drinks for us.” Your birthday hadn’t come yet, but this was already a great start. Good food, a good friend, and a boyfriend who only wanted the best for you.

Endnotes:

I wrote this on the 4th of July when I was hungry and had Chinese food on my mind but everywhere around me was closed. Consider that a self-insert too.

[mikkomacko]

Dear Daisy 6

Harry enjoys Saturdays. For the past two months, Saturdays have consistently been his day off from patrolling. Occasionally he'll get Sunday or Friday off as well, but he doesn't get his hopes up. It doesn't matter to him. He's completely fine only having Saturday off.

A shop in town (one he's yet to learn the name of because he's still confused by the French language), had a nice leather bound journal he'd bought the first week of being stationed in the city. It's similar to the one he'd left at home, the one he's comfortable with, so it makes writing his letters easy. Which is what Saturday is for. A letter to Daisy, a letter to Anne, a letter to Gemma, and a letter to Niall who's unable to fight due to his old knee injury. Today he gets through Anne's, Gemma's, and Niall's letters quickly. He's addressing one to Daisy when he pauses, recalling the letters she sent last week. Harry quickly flips to a blank page, scribbling the name of a man he's only spoken to a few times.

Dear Robin,

I wasn't sure you'd remember me after all these years. The last time we spoke I was about thirteen, right before my uncle started grooming me on the steel business. I've changed a lot since then which is why it was quite shocking to hear about you from Daisy. She told me of your generosity, a quality I'll always remember you for if the books in my library are anything to go by. I'd like to thank you for taking Daisy in while I'm away and distracting her with the gift of baking. She may not look it, but I know she gets awful lonely when she's left to herself too long. I remember a few years ago, when I was maybe seventeen or eighteen, I'd passed by her near the park where she was sitting in the grass, chatting with a pigeon. Of course I teased her for it. What kind of nutter talks to birds? But she'd gotten flustered and yelled at me, told me birds need friends too. She also mentioned being stood up by a boy from my mum's neighborhood so she was complaining to the bird. It wasn't really my business, as she so snottily put it, but I knew she was continuing to speak me because she was lonely. I suppose I'm glad that Bill whatever didn't show up that day.

I was worried about leaving her. Her family has hurt her. She wouldn't want to spend much time with them. And her friend Summer has taken up a babysitting job so her time with her is limited as well. Knowing she's enjoying her time with you brings me comfort. I can't thank you enough for watching over my love.

She told me of your son's and I'm sad to not know them very well. I'm sure they're just as wonderful as you if not more. Perhaps you could give me their names or where they're stationed and I could keep an eye out for them? I believe it's a fair deal; you watching my family and I'll watch yours?

Wishing you a happy fall and hoping the bakery stays busy,

Harry Styles.

The bakery is a big company in town so he doesn't need to ask for the address. Finishing up that letter and stuffing it into an envelope, a titter of giggles flows through the November air. Harry peeks up through his eyelashes, finding two girls in long coats not so subtly looking at him. A red head one wiggles her fingers at him, flicking her hair over her shoulder. Harry thinks she's the kind of bird they'd put on a postcard around here. With the Eiffel Tower behind her, trees turning autumn shades that compliment her hair. It's a nice picture, but not one he'd like to look at forever. French girls are pretty, but he prefers English. Particularly English girls with frizzy brunette curls and freckles on her nose and cheeks. Light brown eyes that stir like honey and drip warmth into his veins when they look at him, whether it be through tears of frustration or sparkles of adoration.

He ignores the girls, shifting his shoulders under his thick army coat. At least the uniform is warm. Harry turns back to the letter he had started writing to Daisy, teeth sinking into his chapped bottom lip as he continues to scribble.

Dear Daisy,

I've never enjoyed autumn. I find it uncomfortable. That brief period between the peek of life in the summer and the bittersweet end in the winter. The one thing that I do enjoy, is my mother's pumpkin soup. I'm glad Gemma visited you on Halloween and I'm glad you had so many pumpkins. I would say I'm jealous but I think that'd give you an edge over me so I'll admit to nothing. As for the fighter pilot girl, I wish I could have seen her. My father was a fighter pilot and I use to have a photo by my bed of him in his plane. One time I had a dream that my daughter flew planes, crossed oceans and looked down at mountain tops. She might've looked like that girl you saw. I can't know for sure seeing as I'm here and you're there. Again, I won't say I'm jealous, but do you think there's a chance she'll be a pilot again next year?

Anyway, I'm sitting on a bench in the grass around the Eiffel Tower right now and there's two girls watching me as if they'd have a chance. Suppose I should tell them I'm a married lad? Or should I let them dream? I reckon it'd rile you up if I didn't say anything so I'll stay silent. Who's jealous now aye?

Think I'll go to the bakery down the street after this. You've given me an awful craving with that dream of us in our house, dancing as your pies burn in the oven and my roast beef cooks to perfection. One of my bunk mates gets cookies sent to him from his mum. He likes to brag about it. Think ya could send me some oatmeal ones? Oughta show his mum who's boss.

I don't like raisins though. If there's raisins in my cookies I'll have no choice but to divorce you.

Until then, I hope you're staying warm. Niall told me he'd drop by sometime, check the heater and leave some firewood for you. I don't know if you'll need it but there's extra blankets in my closet as well. My nan knitted a nice green one for me a couple years ago. Spilled some tea on it once but it's awful nice. Feel free to use it. It'll keep ya warm at night. Not as warm as me of course, but it should suffice. If it doesn't you can go to the church and complain to my Nan's grave. Tell her Harry sent you and maybe she'll only hit you a few times.

Heard a rumor the other day that if things are still slow around here by December a few of us might be able to go home for a bit around the holidays. Don't get your hopes up too much but know I'm brown nosing the hell out of my sergeant for the next few weeks. It'd be nice to be able to hit you with a snowball. And it'd be nice to spend my first Christmas as a married man with my wife. I promise I'll keep updating you (only if you send me cookies). Don't tell my mum or sister, they'll try writing to my sergeant about sending me home and I don't need him knowing I'm a momma's boy.

I'll dream of you baking cookies tonight, tossing raisins into the trashcan just for me and I hope you dream of me sitting here, getting oggled by some Frenchies. Happy November love, enjoy this time in the twilight zone.

I'll be home soon Daisy, I promise

The Harry Styles x

~

Harry's week has gone by too slowly. Typically, roaming the streets of Paris or cleaning up around the base is enough to keep him from straying but not this week. Everything he does, everything he sees, everything he smells pushes his mind to Daisy. Mopping the kitchen floors reminds him of the day they worked together to clean her room. The trees remind him of how it felt to sit in the backyard with her, listening to her soft breaths as she worked on her blanket. The smell of the bakery, flour and cinnamon, remind him of her warmth and the cold air only makes him long for her even more. He doesn't think he's ever had such a terrible week, so he decides he'll push himself to do more next week. Initiative will definitely earn him a ticket home for Christmas, right?

He tries not to let himself get too discouraged as he collapses onto his cot, fingers clutching to the envelopes he received today as well as the medium sized box addressed to him. He's got a letter from his mother as well as Robin, but it's the one attached to the box that he goes for first.

Dear Harry,

French girls may have cute accents but can they make Robin's famous oatmeal cookies perfectly on their first try? I really hope not because then I've really got nothing going for me. Except for the fact that I've already got your last name of course.

I don't know how often you go see the Eiffel Tower but I'd appreciate a thorough description and rating of it from you please. I'd love to see the Eiffel Tower one day but I think I'd like to see the whole world too. Maybe your daughter will be a pilot and she can fly us all over the planet. If not, I'll have to divorce you myself. Assuming you haven't already divorced me by then. I think it would be funny if we divorced each other all the time. Then we could just keep getting married over and over again. I wouldn't mind it if you wore that suit you wore on our first wedding day. You looked really handsome. I was thinking of dragging Summer to town with me to get our wedding photo. If you're nice I'll send you one. If not, I'll save it for the holidays when you come home. I know you said not to get my hopes up but I also know you. You're a born leader Harry whether you like it not, and I'm positive you'll be allowed home.

I just realized something a bit funny. Home. Home used to be my parents house. The home I grew up in. Then I thought it’d be your house, the one I took over by planting flowers everywhere and actually cleaning. I don’t know what home is right now. I keep telling you to come home but what does that matter if I don’t even know where that is? Maybe I’m overthinking it. I hope you know your home Harry and I hope you’re able to come back to it.

Enjoy the cookies, I put extra extra raisins and love into them.

-Daisy o

Harry heart pounds, teeth biting at his bottom lip as he lays the letter down on his pillow and wiggles his finger under the seal on the box. Tearing it open, he fights back a smile at the smell of cookies that hits his nose. They’re not hot or anything, but they’re relatively fresh and wrapped up in a cute basket with green ribbon.

“What’d ya get Styles?” Pip, a bunk mate, asks from two cots over. Harry pulls the basket out, smirking at the other man.

“Gift from my girl,” he says proudly, chest puffing out “she’s a baker.” Pip chuckles at Harry’s sudden uplifted attitude, peeking at the cookies that do look quite delicious.

"Hope they're better than Frank's wife's." He makes a disgusted face and Harry laughs. Frank only shared his cookies once and they were bloody awful. He's never tried Daisy's baking but he's sure it's better. She's better than every other girl on the planet. How could her cookies not be better as well?

Harry tucks them safely into the little bedside table he has, glancing over her letter one more time because he loves her words before tucking it into the drawer that holds all his letters from her. He can't help but think of her claiming she knows him. If Daisy knew him as well as she thinks she does, then she'd know that his home isn't some silly house. And she'd know that he's her home. He's always been her home.

~

Time is supposed to heal. That's what Harry's always been told. The words first arose after his father died and he has blown them off for a long time. Until they rang true. Because one day Anne stopped crying, and people stopped leaving casseroles at the house, and Gemma started going on dates again, and Thomas showed up to chat with Harry more than he used to.

Time. Harry thinks he's pretty tolerant of time. He'd waited hours to speak to Daisy the first night he met her. He waited years to finally be more than the boy who almost killed her. And he's held onto two big secrets for all these years because he knows she'll need time before she can see him as someone she doesn't hate anymore. Years flew by so months should be a breeze. Right? Harry thinks so, but the two months away from Daisy are agonizing, and they're getting worse as days go by. Since when did November turn from 30 days to 300?

Extra training. Extra shifts. Extra work. Extra letters. Extra sleep. Yet nothing is helping to speed the process. He's gotten snippy (snippier than usual) to the point that he pissed off Frank for saying his wife's baking was "absolute shit" and he snapped at that red head girl in town for batting her eyelashes at him. There's a chance he told her she's skin to something the dog would drag in but he honestly can't bring himself to care at all. He just wants a moment with Daisy. Just one moment so he'll know that she's still is because sometimes he feels like he's been stuck at an army base his whole life and their marriage is all one big dream.

When the final day of November rolls around, Harry breathes a sigh of relief. He tells himself that he'll see her soon although he really doesn't know when soon will be.

He's hunched over a table in the cafeteria, hidden in the corner because he really doesn't want to talk to anyone, with his journal and mail sitting before him. He'd told his mum how hard the days were getting and she started sending letters more often, filling him in on random events and gatherings happening back home. He'd just gotten one yesterday talking about the neighbors starting a victory garden so he's a bit surprised to have another one so soon. Surprised, but grateful.

Dear Harry,

We've gotten more snow this week, enough for Niall to come over to shovel out the driveway for me. He stopped by your's and Daisy's home as well, insisting he help take care of "Harry's gals" as he put it. He's awful nice and I heard he's been checking in on Daisy often which is great.

I know you've really been missing her, and I hope this letter brings you comfort rather than heartache. Daisy is devastated without you. I do believe she's happy when she's at the bakery with Robin which I find simply wonderful, but there's multiple nights where she's shown up at my doorstep. She cries for you a lot, misses you more than I think you know. I think she sleeps better here. I always put her in your old bedroom and she's out like a light.

Please don't worry about her Harry. I'm glad she's come to me. She needs companionship and nurturing, both of which I can give. Know that she's safe and happy in your old room, and she's safe and happy with Robin. I know this may not be the happiest of news, but I want you to focus on the good part. Daisy misses you, and to miss you means she's gotten comfortable with you. She's cares about you Harry. I remember the days where I'd hear nothing but you bellyaching about her hating you. Think of how far you've come Harry, and use that happiness when things are tough.

We're all watching over Daisy and taking care of her. Now you take care of yourself, you've got a family waiting for you. I love you very much Harry, and I'm so proud of you.

-Mom

Harry's chest aches, bones collapsing with the image of his sweet Daisy dripping rain, crying in the middle of his mother's living room for him. He knows she's shy, and that she had a hard time being comfortable around his family. Not that he blames her. She was practically forced into the Styles family, so to know that she actually sought out Anne is heartbreaking. He's only ever seen cry a handful of times, all of them his doing, and the most dreadful time were her tears at their engagement party. She had looked so small and afraid, so desperate for safety that he genuinely hated himself at the time too. Because he did that to her. Well, not exactly, but he didn't fix the problem that was caused by his recklessness.

He can see that same look in her eyes. The one that came to mind when he was signing up for the army. Doe eyed, vulnerable, sweet, and innocent. Too precious for him to risk being hurt. He supposes he'd rather being crying over him than being crying over someone else's cruelty. At least if it's his fault he knows she's still safe. He'd never hurt her, not like the world would. Not like secrets between family members, and arranged marriages, and a German army would. No, he only teases her. It's his own stupid but relatively harmless way of getting back at her. She's been breaking his heart for years. He thinks it's fair that he gets to fluster her enough to tears sometimes.

But he never wanted her devastated and broken by his absence. Maybe he did his job too well. He somehow got her to be romantic with him after a decade of nothing but hatred. He cared for her, nurtured her, but then he had to leave, and that sheltered place he created for her left. He hopes she can find some sense of peace with his mother. Anne's always been the best mother anyone could ask for and Daisy could use that love right now.

Folding the letter back up, Harry decides he doesn't want to keep this one. While he feels appreciated and cared for because Daisy actually misses him, he doesn't want to have to be reminded of her teary eyes every time he comes across it. Harry's crumbling the letter up when another envelope is being thrown in front of him, smacking against the table top.

"What's this?" Harry asks gruffly, because the envelope is blank and thick so it couldn't have come in the mail. He looks up, heart jumping nervously when he's met with the eyes of his sergeant.

"Ticket home Styles," he says, lips quirking up under his thick mustache. "you've earned it. Taken on more work than necessary here. And I here you got a bird back home that doesn't want to spend Christmas alone."

Before Harry can say anything, sergeant is turning on his heel and heading towards the door. Harry stares in shock at the envelope, heart thumping in his ears. Pip had to have told sergeant about Daisy because that's the only guy Harry's ever talked to her about. After snapping at those French girls, he'd sat Harry down and told him to him everything. And he had. And now's he's got his ticket to Daisy. His ticket home.

[turbulentt]

Sweet Little Thing

genre: smut | yeosang x fem!reader

word count: 3.1k

warnings: explicit content, unprotected sex, oral (female receiving), praise kink

event: valentine’s day prompt ask by @svt-mangos

summary: a new bakery opens at your city and you find yourself mesmerized by how amazing their cakes are, yet it’s their waiter, kang yeosang, who catches your eye first.

It was your first time going to that bakery. It had just recently opened and some of your friends told you how amazing their desserts were, you just had to try them. The looks attracted you right away. All the colors, smells, sizes. You felt like entering a wonderland. 

“Don’t just stand there.” the waiter giggled beside you “Order something.”

“But they’re so many. I can’t choose.” you drew closer to the cake showcase and hummed in confusion.

“Let me help then. Go for the strawberry angel food cake.” he points at the sugary pink cake “It’s really sweet. I think it goes well with you.”

For the first time, you look at him, in surprise by his flirt. Time seemed to stop when you locked eyes with each other. Maybe you did enter wonderland. Do wonderlands have princes? Well, this one had, and he was standing right there before you.

“Do… Do you want it?” he asked, not so flirty nor confident this time. “Want what?” you bluntly responded, not paying the minimum attention. “The cake. Do you want to taste that cake?”

“Oh, the cake right.” you free yourself from the thoughts and smile awkwardly “Sure. I’m going to sit over there. Oh and a cappuccino please.”

He smiles and leaves to prepare your order, while you just head to a table near to the window. After that encounter, you just had to sit down and recover your senses. You had never seen him before. Not in university nor anywhere in that city. You would remember if you did, certainly, such a pretty face like that is hard to forget.

Once again he approaches your table and you feel your heart rhythm fasten as if he wanted to run away. You watch him place the cake in front of you, and then your drink. Something in the way his blond hair was held by two baby blue hair clips turned him even more charming. While lost in your own world you didn’t notice how the boy looked at you too. 

“Would you like something else?” he smiles.

“No, thank you.” and it’s when he’s preparing to leave that you decide to take the first step “Actually..”

“Yes?” he gazes back at you and you can clearly see a glimpse of hope shining in his eyes. 

“I’d like to know your name,” you admit shyly but he seems to enjoy it a lot. “Kang Yeosang.” he points at his name tag and you chuckle. “Sorry, I didn’t pay much attention to that.“ 

"I wonder why.” tilts his head to the side making a pensive face “Maybe you just were too distracted looking at my face." 

Your eyes widen in surprise and a hint of red grows in your cheeks. You shyly mumble an apology and Yeosang laughs sweetly. 

"Don’t be sorry. I liked it. I think you were too distracted to even realize I was looking at you the same way.” he smiles. 

His confidence seemed to have boosted and you couldn’t help but smile at his statement. That means something, right? Because you could really kiss his beautiful lips right that instant. 

“I hope you enjoy your food.” he suddenly goes back to his waiter state and points at the cappuccino “I hope you like that cappuccino. It comes with a surprise." 

You look at him in confusion and Yeosang just waves as he walks away. What did he mean by surprise? Did he put something in the drink? How lucky could you be to meet a nice handsome boy yet he would just drug you? Too many scenarios. Maybe there really is a good surprise. 

Warily you just take a sip of the drink, which seems to be fairly normal. Shaking your thoughts away, you just have a normal meal, being delighted by how heavenly that cake tastes. Your friends were right. You could feel how much love the baker had put into it. 

When finished, you decided to send a pic to your friends, along with a long review paragraph of how you would definitely be back to taste more of their cakes. Between the many replies you got, one of them caught your eye. 

"What is that black stuff written on the cappuccino cup?" 

You immediately looked at the cup and saw a couple of lines coming from under the bakery label. Curiously you rip the little sticker off, only to show a cell phone number and the ‘KY’ letters under it. Of course, it meant Kang Yeosang and it obviously was his number, but your mind couldn’t really process the fact that the cute waiter that had just flirted with you gave you his number. 

So, after that day, besides being at the bakery most days you also texted Yeosang frequently. Both of you really enjoyed the talks you had on the phone throughout the entire dawn and, for some odd reason, Yeosang made you feel wanted. More than you had ever been.

Apart from the hours-long phone calls and your routine visits to the bakery, you two didn’t really see each other often, it could be because you don’t study in the same university, or just for the fact that you haven’t had the guts to ask him out on a date. But neither does he, well, until one day.

“Here’s your order.” he happily rushes to your table setting down the food “I have one thing to ask you.”

Taking a bite to the piece of cake you sign for him to keep talking. Curiously Yeosang had developed a way of talking to you that made you blush every two words. He would either finish his sentences with pick up lines or just softly compliment you. It wasn’t like you didn’t enjoy it, all his words boosted your ego, but you never knew how to respond and he would just stare at you, with a victorious smirk on his face, waiting for a response.

“Go on a date with me. This Saturday,” he said it so easily yet you were almost choking on your food. “A what?” you mumbled between coffs. “You heard me.” he chuckled “I’ve been meaning to ask but it never seems to be the right time. But I’m taking my chance with the pretty girl now.” 

“You sound like a true gentleman.” you smile, awkwardly trying to hide your blushed cheeks “And where are we going?”

“Oh, that’s a surprise. Just meet me here. I leave at six so we can go together, okay?” 

“Seems good. I’ll wait excitedly for it.” you smile and once again he resumes his work.

Saturday didn’t take much time to come. The week seemed to fly just for you to have your so awaited date. You still visited the bakery every day after university, but the thought of the two of you finally being able to hang out together was driving you nuts. So, on Saturday, there you were, munching something to make time for Yeosang to leave his shift. 

Half an hour before, he was already looking enthusiastic passing through your table every five minutes telling you how he was almost leaving. You could only laugh at his cuteness. 

You were waiting outside by the door when his shift finally ends and you only now got to see in person how good looking Yeosang is without his uniform. Not that it really matters, but his style surely helps, especially when he’s wearing a leather jacket.

“You look good.” you shyly admit referring to his clothing. “Thanks. But, don’t I always look good?” he teases you and you just decide not to fight back. “Anyway, where are we going?” 

“We are going to my house.” he takes you by the hand guiding you to his car. “To your house?” you look a bit taken back by his words but he quickly eases you. “You told me once that you wanted to learn how to bake some of the cakes we have at the bakery so I thought it would be a good idea to teach you,” Yeosang explains as you both enter the car “I would do it at the bakery but my boss didn’t allow me. Since I have all the tools and ingredients at my house I figured it’d do. I hope you don’t mind, we can do something else if you want.”

“No!” you cut him off quickly “Baking seems like a fun first date.” 

It didn’t take long to arrive at his place and you sure got surprised by how tidy and clean Yeosang is. Yet he doesn’t seem to be the only one living there, due to the number of jackets on the hall hanger.

“Do you share the house?” you curiously question while roaming around the living room, feeling the nice fruity smell it holds. “I do, with seven of my friends. But they’re not here today, I told them I wanted privacy.” he chuckled at his own words and guided you by the hand to the kitchen. It was starting to become a habit, holding your hand and leading you. Not that you were complaining, he has really soft and warms hands.

All of the utensils and ingredients were already set on the table which meant he had prepared it all before going to work. Realizing that, you looked at Yeosang with the most loving eyes, like you were falling in love with him. Perhaps you really were.

“What?” he smiles taking off his jacket and replacing it with his apron, giving you one right after “Are you falling for me already?”

“Let’s cook.” you cut him off and he laughs at your embarrassment. “Ok, let’s start.”

Saying it was an easy task would be a lie because Yeosang wasn’t properly the best teacher. He would simply skip some steps and not tell you what it was supposed to be done and then just laugh at your pouty expression. He would also grab your arms to explain to you how you were supposed to beat the eggs or mold the fondant, it drove you insane. 

“Ok, now, carefully, put it in the oven,” he instructed and you did as told. “Are you sure I did a good job?” you asked while closing the oven’s door but you didn’t get a reply “Yeosang?”

As soon as you turn to face him your face is hit with a good amount of flour, much of it going inside of your mouth. “You’re dead,” you say playfully taking the bag of flour from his hands and throwing some on his face. And right at that instant, a war started. You ran around the table with Yeosang chasing you, both of you giggling like little children and spilling flour everywhere. You were so distracted running around that you didn’t even notice him right in front of you with his arms open, ready to catch you.

“Gotcha.” he happily sings after grabbing you in his arms. The problem was how close you two got at that moment. Both your noses rubbing each other and you could swear he was able to listen to your unsteady heartbeats. His eyes trailed up and down, switching between your eyes and your mouth.

“Can I kiss you?” that’s all he asks yet you felt like fainting. You didn’t give him a proper answer, confirming with a head gesture was enough. His lips tasted like flour, which was sort of inconvenient, but you could still taste his sweetness and feel his warmth. Yeosang didn’t rush it, it was indeed the most loving and deep kiss you have ever had and it made you feel out of this world. 

When he parted his lips from yours you whined lowly, you wanted more, a lot more. He surely noticed how your expression changed and grabbed your hips to draw you closer to his body. Your legs got shaky and he smirked.

“Did I just make you wet with just one kiss, sweetheart?” 

If the kiss didn’t make you, which was highly unlikely, the way his eyes darken as he said that sure did. You just looked away from him embarrassed, he has such a strong gaze, so hard to resist. Yeosang rubbed his finger on your cheek cleaning some of the flour that still covered you and leaned closer.

“We should really take a shower. What do you think?” he whispers right by your ear and his words slide quickly down to your core. “Together?” you ask innocently, obviously you knew the answer. “Of course, sweetheart. Unless you don’t want to, I’m fine with that.”

You smiled at him, touched by his gentle preoccupation with getting consent. “I would really love that.” you take the opportunity to kiss his lips again, a bit more hungrily this time. Yeosang lifted your body up, and so he carried you to the bathroom, rather clumsily since he was more focused on giving your lips attention. You giggled when he just kicked the door desperately, he was really eager to have you. 

“Yeosang, put me down.” you laughed as he started to kiss your neck “I can’t shower with clothes.”

“Oh.” he laughed awkwardly and let you down to your feet, only to grab you again “I’ll take care of that.”

Every one of his moves was gentle, soft, and warm and you enjoyed every single one. It didn’t take long for him to be on his knees and face to face with your clothed core. His eyes widened at the dark wet spot on your underwear.

“You’re this wet just for me?” his finger met the stain and you whined softly. “Don’t make those embarrassing questions…”

“You’re so shy.” he chuckles. His breath comes closer to your core and your hands instantly move to his hair. Not so gently now he removes your underwear and, with the most hungry eyes you have ever seen, he lets his tongue travel between your folds. “And you taste you sweet.” his hands grab your thighs firmly to spread them more, giving him more access to play with you.

Small moans start to fall from your lips and it only fuels Yeosang’s ego. His tongue finally meets your desperate aching clit and you shake at how good it felt. He knew exactly what he was doing, playing with it at a steady pace yet sending shivers down your entire body. One of his hands releases your thighs and slowly travels to between your shaky legs. 

“You’re so good for me. So beautiful.” he hums into your core “I can’t get enough of your sweet moans, baby.”

You gasp loudly when you feel two of his fingers slide inside you and coming out again. Your eyes meet Yeosang’s and you can feel how satisfied he is by eating you out like that, but the bulge in his pants started to hurt every second he didn’t give it attention.

His fingers thrust into your wetness again and he starts moving them quickly and steady as his lips are busy sucking and playing with your sensitive clit.

“Yeosang… I’m going to cum,” you mumble between pants, your head was thrown back and your breath completely unsteady. He knew you wouldn’t last longer too, that’s why he decided to stop. Before you could cum he took his fingers out and moved his mouth away from you. You whine at the sudden emptiness and look at him unsatisfied.

“Don’t look at me like that, sweetheart.” he says playfully as he stands up and starts to undress “I can’t let you cum just now.”

“Why?” you ask, quite lost on his body, devouring him with your eyes. “I want to look you in the eyes and make you mine.” 

Your expression softens as you hear his words and he turns to turn the shower on. “Come, sweetie. I want to make my pretty little baby feel good a bit more.” he reaches out his hand to pull you to under the shower “And, of course, I want to hear how good you sound once I make you cum.”

His words hit the pitch of your stomach and you take no time in kissing him feverishly. You two weren’t going to play any games now, both of you needed release so much that it hurt.

While one of his hands roamed through your body, the other one was busy giving a few pumps to his needy cock. Yeosang grunted in between the kiss and it was the sexiest sound you have ever heard. You grabbed his face with both of your hands and locked eyes with him. “Yeosang, please…”

It only took you one plea to make him do as told. Without ever taking his eyes from yours he carefully slid inside you. He held himself onto the cold tiles of the bathroom wall and waited for you to give him permission to move. Taking a look down he saw the way his cock fitted perfectly inside you and grunted with satisfaction.

“Fuck, you take me so well.” his thumb caresses your lower lip “And you feel so good.”

You can only smile at his words, giving him a sign to start moving. And so he does. Unhurried he slides almost completely out of you, only to sink deep once again. And as he promised he was looking right into your eyes as he made you his’. Every hard thrust seemed much more intense with the two of you looking eye to eye and moaning each other’s names uncontrollably. The water just dripped from your bodies, taking with it all the sweat, and muffling the erotic sounds your skin made as they met each other with every thrust.

“Can you cum for me now, baby?” his words came one by one between his pants “Because I will.”

You shake your head as you felt the heat rush through your body. Your walls started to feel tighter around his cock and Yeosang was a mess just by the feeling of you clenching around him. You felt him throb him inside you and just couldn’t contain yourself anymore.

With a loud moan, you came undone on his cock and fell on Yeosang’s arms as he pulled out of you and came on his own hand. He held you close to him and played with your hair until you recovered your senses and were finally able to stand up.

“Now we should really take a shower.” he laughs and you join him.

Like the gentlemen he is, Yeosang made sure you were all cleaned, from the flour and the cum, and his aftercare actually felt really good.

As you both were stepping out of the shower something in your head clicks and you look at him. 

“The cake!” it was most likely all burnt by now.

[elexica]

Second Chance Christmas {{ December 22 }}

Holiday shopping, Christmas cookies, and a movie marathon... and maybe a touch of actual communication?

https://archiveofourown.org/works/27832405/chapters/68577144#workskin

Full chapter under the read more. 

Joey wandered downstairs at seven in the morning.  He was surprised to see Kaiba inspecting the to-do list on his fridge in between long swigs from his KC branded mug.

“You haven’t finished holiday shopping?!” Kaiba’s panic-whisper sounded like he was really concerned about whether Christmas was ruined.  His eye contact was almost frenetic.

“I thought I’d leave the kids with Serenity while I do the shopping, she’s supposed to be working the Christmas day shift at the hospital, so she was going to have a couple nights off… I mean it’s not…” Joey looked at the ceiling, as if he could avoid conflict if he didn’t meet the burning blue flames in his ex’s eyes.  He steeled himself with a deep inhale.  “It’s not as much of a production when you’re not here.”

The KC mug hit the kitchen island with not-insubstantial force.  The fruit dish shook with the vibration, bananas swinging from the hook, and Joey tore his eyes from the ceiling to see the drops of black coffee that had hit the granite.  

“And what, exactly, is that supposed to mean?” Kaiba asked, or rather hissed, without a questioning lilt in his voice.

Joey cracked his knuckles involuntarily.  Instead of letting his fingers ball into fists, he jerked open the refrigerator door and yanked out the carton of orange juice.

“You’re a smart man.  I’m sure you can guess.”  Joey didn’t look away from the task at hand.  He militantly focused on pouring orange juice into a tall clean glass.

And there was that sinister “Kaiba” gravel, every bit as menacing as it had ever been as he hissed over the kitchen counter, “Enlighten me.”  He sounded like Yugi’s troubled teen nemesis again.

Joey flipped around, gripping the orange juice to keep himself from saying too much that he would regret.  “Things are more mellow, now.  It isn’t about going overboard to prove a point.”

Kaiba blinked, clearly expecting a harsher phrasing. “Is it now?”

“Yeah.  When I was a kid I didn’t have much for Christmas and I came out just fine…”  Here it comes, Joey thought, trying not to show the hesitation in his voice as he finished, “They don’t have to be spoiled rotten.”

Joey smirked as he said it.  Commenting on their different parenting styles was a low blow, but it had been just too much fun.  Joey thought regret would drop into his stomach, but it never hit.  Instead, his heart jumped a little, the thrill of getting a rise out of Kaiba as seductive as ever.

“Spoiled?!” Kaiba’s voice lowered in volume and tone.  Joey didn’t even try to suppress his mocking grin.  Instead, he chugged the rest of his orange juice, slammed down the glass and bolted from the kitchen.

“Get back here!” Kaiba said.  Tonally, it was a shout, but volume-wise?  Neither of them wanted the kids to wake up quite yet, even though there were probably only minutes left on the clock in that regard.

Joey slid on his socks as he ran down the hallway, drifting as he took a sharp turn.  Kaiba sprang to life, suddenly in hot pursuit.

Kaiba was fast, with those long, toned legs and that Terminator-like determination.  But he hadn’t spent the last three years wrangling toddlers and chasing after Alexis, who just loved wandering off at the most inopportune times.  Plus, while Kaiba had memorized the floor plan at one time, Joey was recently and intimately familiar with it.  

The tie breaker was the stairs—with a carved bannister that had seen better days, days before Atticus had been allowed poster paint and before Alexis had taken a tap class.  Finally, Joey’s socks gambit came to bite him in the ass as the smoothness of the glossy wooden stairs and the lack of traction from the socks caused him to slip.  And that wave of tripping Joey collided into a scampering Kaiba, and the two of them tumbled down the stairs.

The resulting clatter woke the kids up.

. . .

The mall was a zoo—minus the organization.  Children were everywhere, and somehow all screaming at once.  Everyone looked stressed, perhaps the employees most of all.  And Joey realized that he didn’t really have a strategy.

Leaving the kids home with Kaiba was a luxury, and he had sort of forgotten how nice it was to have back up childcare that wasn’t molded around Serenity’s shifts as an RN.  It was sort of strange too, because it was one of the few things that was completely new.

Before they separated, Kaiba never watched the kids alone—they had a full staff for that.

Would they all have a miserable time?  Joey smirked to himself as he strolled past another festive display—a family of mannequins in matching flannel pajamas. Being outnumbered by the kids could be quite a problem, and although Alexis had lone wolf tendencies, when they combined forces the two were quite powerful.

Joey idly imagined what sort of hell they might put Kaiba through as he shopped for some small things to put in their stockings. He was knocked out of his reverie by eyes fell upon a yo-yo display at the toy store.

After picking up a few small trinkets—and decidedly no yo-yo’s, Joey approached the cash register.

He was not pleased to find an unfamiliar credit card in his wallet.  When did Kaiba even have the time to slip that in?  Joey ran his thumb over the raised letters of his own name.  Did Kaiba just have these lying around? In any case, Joey steadfastly refused to use it, tucking the heavy black card back into the recesses of his worn leather wallet.

He contemplated, momentarily, throwing it in one of the trash bins that he passed by, overflowing with spent holiday Starbucks cups and overly long receipts.  But if someone did get ahold of it, they might ring up some charges that could look like Joey was actually using the card.  It would ruin the integrity of the refutation.

But the little rectangular siren was hard to keep from his mind.  Every time he made a purchase, there it was, tempting him to draw from an unlimited account.  Snap shut the golden handcuffs again, the card whispered. Make everything easier.

But Joey Wheeler was a determined man.  Detractors might use the phrase stubborn, but it didn’t matter which one was more accurate.  When he had a plan, he stuck to it.  To the bitter end.  So even though he was pushing the admittedly fragile budget to it’s limits at the music store and on Cyber Angel card packs, it remained sealed away.

Until he passed a very sad looking fundraiser.

Joey considered, as he lingered past the charity drive seeking toys for a group home for teens in the Bronx, that he might put the card to use.  He realized he seemed a little off, staring down the charity workers, who were dressed as unconvincing elves, with the big collection boxes.

Joey had a timetable.  He had a not unimpressive list still remaining.  But that fucking card was burning a hole in his pocket.  It was practically radiating heat.

But he caved.  He lost the battle with the black card when he emptied the local game shop’s entire stock of new model-duel disks and donated them.  Joey was trembling as he signed them over, what the name of the donor would be.

He settled on anonymous and determined that he would cut the card into fifty pieces the second he got home and scatter the shards through the trash.  The damn thing was too tempting.

By the time Joey pulled into the driveway and slammed open the front door, he was ready to fight about what had happened.

But his family wasn’t immediately in view.  The lights in the kitchen were on, and Joey could hear soft classical covers of Christmas music and he thought he could make out the sound of Alexis laughing.

The wind was knocked out of him when he turned the corner to see Kaiba’s black turtleneck splattered with flour.

The whole kitchen had taken a beating.  Flour hadn’t just tarnished Kaiba’s polished look—it had dusted the cabinets and part of the fridge Kaiba must not have realized how easily dry ingredients spray from the stand mixer if dropped in first.

The kitchen counters certainly were not spared from the ingredient massacre.  The entire kitchen island was covered in flour, some spilled food dye—which Joey could already sense would never come out of the granite—and a surprising amount of raw egg.

Upon further inspection, Kaiba was actually the one least impacted by the ingredient apocalypse.  There was sugar and frosting all over Alexis’s face—how, Joey might never know—and Atticus had managed to paint some of his hair blue with blue frosting.

“Alright.  Cookies are decorated and prepared for Mr. Claus, fulfilling your contractual obligations,” Kaiba said resolutely, as if he had not turned their living space into a warzone. “What is next on the festive itinerary?”

“First rule of Christmas: you must get munk’d!” Atticus announced.

Joey knocked on the boundary wall of the kitchen to announce his arrival.  He expected Kaiba to look much more surprised than he did.  Instead, Kaiba’s affectionate attention merely pivoted between Atticus and Joey.  It was warm and familial, and it sent a pang of heat and guilt and maybe something else down Joey’s spine.

“Next is getting this cleaned up, I think,” Joey said, finding himself in uncharted territory.  It felt weird to be the responsible one out of him and Kaiba.  He still wasn’t used to being the buzzkill parent, and he didn’t like it.

Kaiba could have said something mean—made some comment about would spoil the fun, but instead he nodded politely.  “Yes,” Kaiba surveyed the room.  “I think that would be the next step.”

While the kids groaned at the thought of helping with the chores component of the activity, Joey went to inspect the output.

Apparently, Kaiba had lead the kids through the process of making gingerbread men.  Four were set aside and logically decorated to be their family: a stretched out one with blue blobs for eyes and a little black gel icing frown, a slightly more squished one with yellow on top in some sort of approximation of Joey’s hair, and two smaller ones representing each kid.

They really did look like a family.

“You can’t eat those ones,” Kaiba instructed from over Joey’s shoulder.  Joey startled at the interruption.  He hadn’t realized his ex had gotten so close, and was looming over him properly.  

“I figured they might be a little special.”

“Frankly, I don’t know that I’m comfortable with Santa eating them.  I’m a bit worried he’d just bite my head off, and leave him as an example to the others.”

Joey laughed.

“I don’t think Santa’s supposed to leave death threats to the cookies, Kaiba.  But uh…” Joey reached for another plate which had not been as lovingly decorated.  He tore the little head of a random gingerbread man with this teeth, and noted the nice flavor.  Butter and molasses and a hint of cloves.  He placed the decapitated body of the gingerbread man back down on the display plate. “This guy’ll scare the rest of ‘em straight.”

. . .

After everyone had gotten cleaned up and changed into pajamas (and Joey had discretely moved the gifts into the master bedroom closet), the family reconvened in the living room.

“Oto-san, are you ready for the greatest movies ever made?” Atticus announced.  He seemed confident that his father wasn’t ready—and he was right. “Are you ready to get… ‘munk’d?”

Kaiba poked at his reading glasses and adjusted his laptop screen.  He had been working on some spreadsheets or something, but his interest was obviously piqued.

Joey smiled.  He knew exactly what Kaiba was in for, and he was going to savor it.

“Munk’d?” Kaiba repeated back carefully, as if he was worried it was a swear or a slur.

“Yeah!” Atticus grabbed the remote and deftly navigated the SmartTV through a few different apps before finding exactly what he was looking for. “It’s a quadrilogy.”

Kaiba slowly tiled his laptop screen down.  “That’s not a word.”

“I have an inventive spirit, Oto-san!” Atticus’s smile beamed forward as he continued to queue the feature film.  Without looking away from the screen, Atticus added, “Just like you.”

The soft smile that graced Kaiba’s features stung at Joey immediately.  And it vanished at the first pitchy note of the CGI Alvin and the Chipmunks warbling through Daniel Powter’s 2005 hit, “Bad Day.”

“See, they’re kids, but they’re also rock stars!” Atticus enthused.  Before Kaiba could get out any other response, Atticus cracked up at the vintage CGI creatures jumping into a muffin basket.

“It’s okay if you don’t like this one, Oto-san,” Alexis offered, hopping up on the couch on the other side.  “They get better when they introduce the Chipettes in the Squeakquel.”

Joey wished he had photographed the resulting look of horror on Kaiba’s face.

Joey leaned back in his own arm chair, nursing a fresh mug of hot cocoa.  “Quadrilogy, Kaiba.  That means there are four of them.”

After the first movie, the kids we already starting to wear down a little.  Kaiba had sat through the entire thing, undulating between puzzled and disturbed at the dated animation, the fact that the chipmunks had managed to get into and out of a dishwasher unharmed, and that the moral of the movie appeared to be that brothers should be very careful about who adopts them.

“This entire thing could have been prevented if the Chipmunks had just retained counsel before signing the relevant contracts,” Kaiba said dismissively.

Joey couldn’t help but laugh.  “It’s about family, Kaiba.”

Any further discussion was cut off by the raucous opening music for the Squeakquel and ninety-ish minutes later, Alvin and the Chipmunks: Chipwrecked.

It was a true Christmas miracle that the kids passed out on the couch before the start of Alvin and the Chipmunks 4: The Road Chip.

Joey met Kaiba’s slightly tired eyes.  Admittedly, the ending of Chipwrecked was somewhat jarring.  Frankly, the entire thing was more of a fever dream mixed with memes from 2011 than a sensible film.  “Alright, I’ll take Alexis, if you can take Atticus?”

Kaiba nodded solemnly, accepting the delegation.

Alexis was usually pretty easy to get to sleep, though sometimes she was anxious from the day’s events, or too busy planning the next day to focus on getting to bed.  Joey was not at all surprised that Kaiba was taking longer to get Atticus down for the night.  He peered through the cracked door to see Atticus’s room illuminated by the little nightlight—shaped like a music note.

In the dim light, it was clear that Kaiba was sitting on the edge of Atticus’s bed.  Atticus was all tucked in, holding his Red Eyes Black Dragon plushie, and gazing up at his father.

“And every night when you go to sleep…” Seto prompted, sounding almost like a strict teacher.

“I am loved,” Atticus replied.

“And every morning when you wake up?” Seto started the second part of the call and response.

“I am loved,” Atticus answered, “Oto-san, you don’t have to say it every night when you’re around!  I know you love me.”

“It is important to me that you never doubt it, and never forget it.  Even when I’m not around.”  Joey’s heart could have melted in that second.

Atticus laughed.  “You’re so sappy, Oto-san.  I don’t know why Uncle Honda calls you a frozen bastard!”  

Joey could barely muffle his reaction.

Kaiba’s face whipped around to the cracked open door.  “Jounouchi?”  He whispered harshly.  But it was to no real effect.  Joey was already lost to laughter, and dashed through the hallway.  By the time Joey dared to retrace his steps back to Atticus’s door frame, Kaiba had vanished.  

. . .

It was not hard to guess where Kaiba had retreated to.  Joey pushed open the door of the study and was met with the increasingly familiar sight of his ex-husband in his oxblood leather chair, swirling a glass of expensive, aged, imported whiskey in his long fingers and staring at it like it held the secrets of the universe.

“I saw you with Atticus,” Joey offered, wandering into the study.  He looked more at the full shelves of books than at his ex.  Most of the volumes were in Japanese, but a select few were in English.  Warren Buffet’s autobiography was open on his lap, but Joey was fairly sure he wasn’t actually reading it.

“Yes,” Kaiba answered, flipping the page.   No, Joey was sure he hadn’t actually read it, his eyes never really left the swirling amber.

“And he musta overheard a call with Honda.  It wasn’t on purpose or anything.”

Kaiba nodded wordlessly.

“You really do miss them, huh?” Joey asked, trying not to sound as nostalgic as he felt.

Kaiba’s face remained stoic, but he took a sip of the whiskey instead of answering.  Only that asshole could make something so mundane utterly captivating.  Joey hated that he would wait for a response as long as he needed to.  Joey’s eyes searched the hand clasping the glass, and noted with a brutal sinking feeling, that the ring was off again.

“Why are you here, Jounouchi?” Kaiba asked finally.

“It’s my house, now.  I can go anywhere I want,” Joey announced.  Kaiba ignored this answer, and turned his head down to the book on his lap.  He flipped another page.

Joey considered whether he should just leave, skip out on the argument, avoid it all and properly give up.  Let his ex-husband drink his gross fancy liquor and read his boring book and luxuriate in the solitude as only Seto Kaiba could.

But it had been three years.  Three years of not demanding answers.  Three years with no clarity.  So Joey broke the silence.

“Why didn’t you fight for me?  For our family?  Even for a second?” Joey felt the heat in his own voice, burning the back of his throat.  That was how it was, fighting with Kaiba.  A never ending battle of fire and ice.

Kaiba was silent, and took a long sip of the Japanese whiskey.  He closed the book, which was more respect than Joey had anticipated.

“That’s what broke my heart, really.”  Tears threatened to fall out of Joeys eyes as he said it. “That I told you that it was over, and you couldn’t spare one shred of anger, or sadness, or anything.”  Joey hated the pleading tone in his own voice.  “It felt like you had already dumped me.”

Kaiba raised his glance from the book cover, the amber glass, and instead looked him dead in the eye.  Joey wondered if those blue eyes had always been so lifeless and hollow.  “So, you wanted me to argue with you?”

“I don’t know,” Joey answered, running a hand through his messy blond hair.  He hadn’t planned the whole argument out.  Frankly, he hadf didn’t expect any response.

“Our children didn’t need to watch that,” Kaiba said.

“Watch what?  A conversation?  An argument?  You think it would have been worse for them to hear their parents argue or yell once than… going through a whole fucking divorce?” Joey’s volume crept up and he was done controlling it.

Kaiba didn’t answer.  He looked into the glass again, but didn’t lift it.

“Or what?  What couldn’t they see?  You actually respect my time?  Respect me?” Joey wasn’t used to having the rhetorical upper hand, and he wasn’t going to waste it, gesticulating wildly.  “I got no respect my whole life, I wasn’t gonna let my kids see me treated like that too.”

For all the theatrics, Kaiba scarcely responded.

“Watch it happen again,” Kaiba almost whispered.  There was a ghostly quality to the statement, as if Kaiba neither meant to say it nor for Joey to hear it.  Kaiba cleared his throat and started again.  He brought his eyes back up to meet Joey’s.

“I learned that lesson a long time ago,” Kaiba’s jaw was clenched so tightly the words almost didn’t escape.  “I’m not trying to be loved by someone who doesn’t love me.” Kaiba’s fingers twitched, as if he wanted to fiddle with something.  But his control and focus wouldn’t let him give in.

For Joey’s part, he stood and tried to absorb these complete non-sequiturs.

“I can’t, and I won’t, try to force or trick you or anyone else into caring about me.  I have paid dearly for that miscalculation before.  I will not make the same mistake again.”  

For all of the “slow” comments he had been subjected to over the years, Joey caught up quickly enough to what Kaiba was referring to.  And he wasn’t going to let him play that card, get out of all responsibility because he had emotional constipation.

“You realize there’s a difference between someone asking you to be a better partner and… and not loving you anymore.  Asking you to adjust some things instead of… never wanting to see you again.  Things aren’t just black and white!” Joey answered.

“Divorce papers are black and white, Jounouchi.”  Kaiba finally downed the rest of the glass, the lilt of his voice the same as a “check mate.”

Joey hated to be the first to raise his voice but that door had already been opened.  He wasn’t going to be able to get the toothpaste back in the tube.

“Have you met you?! You wouldn’t listen to anything less!  And I tried!” Joey shouted, hands raised defensively.

“I wasn’t going to stay where I wasn’t wanted, and you made it very clear that you didn’t want to be with me.”  Kaiba didn’t answer with the same volume, but the intensity was raised and the harshness of his voice was jarring.  His eyes narrowed like a hawk eying prey.  “I didn’t change, for the record.  I did not degrade or fail or alter in any way.  No, I stayed exactly the same.  You simply decided you did not want that anymore.”

“You’re damn right, I was sick of being disrespected.  I spent a lot of time not wanting to feel that way anymore.  And you really wouldn’t take my feelings into consideration.  Was I supposed to tolerate that forever?” Joey’s volume increased with every clipped sentence.

Kaiba’s voice became more languid—as if he was more comfortable responding to the anger.  He sounded somewhat like he was pondering his answer as he said it.  Drunk on whiskey and a philosophical sense.  “Isn’t that what you promised you would do?  What unconditional love is supposed to be?  Unconditional: without conditions.  And yet, after years, suddenly you have conditions—"

“Excuse me?” Joey interrupted.

“You promised.  That your love for me, for our family, was unconditional.  And then, years later, you have a set of demands.  That is the very essence of a condition.”  Kaiba finished the glass with his scholarly speech, placing it next to the decanter.  He shoved the book onto the side table as well.

“There’s a difference between not loving someone and wanting to be treated like your damn husband.”  Kaiba’s tone rubbed off on him somewhat, as if it was a scholarly discussion about the terms of their marriage.  Like if he could just explain it clearly enough, he could talk his husband back into their marriage.

Kaiba kept his hands busy pouring another glass.  “Well you were right.  You’re doing better now, aren’t you?  Enjoying your work, the kids are fine.  You proved it—you don’t need me at all.  And you don’t want me.  In three days, I’ll be gone, and you can go back to your better way of life.”

“It’s not—I’m not better now!  I’m fine, things are fine, just different and—” Joey stuttered, hands defensively raised.  “And, and having you here has been... It hasn’t made anything worse.  It’s like you changed for the better.”

“I don’t change, Jounouchi.  I am who I am.” Kaiba said, the cruel air of finality sounding as much like a business decision as anything else.  

Joey’s eyes widened and he gestured wildly.  “Fuck, Kaiba… Then what’s this?!  You’ve made it for three days actually being… just, present.  For once.  Three years too late.  Why?  Why now and not then?”

Kaiba shrugged and looked away.

Joey closed the distance, looming over his ex-husband, perched in the chair.  “I know why,” Joey said, menace in his voice.  “It’s because you only respond to threats.  Consequences.  And now you know the consequences, so you’re getting your act together.”

Kaiba met his eyes, but looked brutally tired.  “I am trying to give you what you want for a few days, Jounouchi.  Call it a Christmas present to the father of my children.”

“You’re saying this is an act?”

He titled his head all the way back, eyes glued to the ceiling and thumb and forefinger pinching his nose bridge, just above the wire of his glasses.  “I don’t know what this is, Jounouchi.  Just be happy, or whatever, and leave me in peace.”

Joey really thought about leaving.  He wanted to.  But he wasn’t quite done, not really, and he’d been avoiding this fight for years.  Joey never used to back down from a fight, and neither did Kaiba.  It brought them to blows for years, and the avoidance of conflict had been more sickening than any gut-punch Joey had ever taken.

“I’m not gonna.”  Joey said, simply.  Hands on his hips, standing his ground.

Kaiba leaned up again, head snapping to attention, hand already on the crystal decanter.  “What?”

“Leave.  I’m not gonna do it.  You can try to make me.  I’m not done, alright?!  You’re obviously not done,” Joey pushed forward, grabbing Kaiba’s wrist and pulling his hand off of the decanter.  “Make it easy.  Say you’ll be better, Kaiba.”

“I won’t do that.  I don’t change, Jounouchi, because I can’t change.”  Kaiba did nothing with his wrist, except allow it to go limp in Joey’s grasp.  It was as if he was that confident in the strength of his words that he didn’t so much as care to tense a muscle.  “I will ask you once more, nicely.  Get out of my office.”

“No.” Joey dropped his wrist, and Kaiba retracted it into his lap.  “You can change.  You did.  You just didn’t notice.”  It felt good, Joey thought, being honest for once with this man that he used to love.

“I have work.”

“You don’t.  They can’t fire you.” Joey got up in his face, so close he could smell Kaiba’s shampoo.  Other than the soft sandalwood scent, it felt a bit like when he was riling up a rival high school bully back in Domino.  “Fight me!  Make me leave!  You want me to go so bad?  Then make me!”

Kaiba smirked, knowingly.  Then he leaned his head back against the chair.  His bangs fully eclipsed his eyes. “I won’t.  I’ll just sleep here.” There it was again.  The checkmate tenor.

“Fine!” Joey plopped down in the seat next to him, the velvet of his matching seat just soft enough.  “Then I’ll sleep here too.”

If Kaiba shifted his eyes to check, Joey couldn’t tell under the thick brown bangs.   In any case, the stubborn ass didn’t get up.  He didn’t storm off or leave.  He just stayed there, like a determined rock under Joey’s constant observation.

After about half an hour, Joey heard the even breathing pick up into a light snore.

In the morning, Kaiba awoke alone in the guest room, with no memory of how he got there.

[mangled-dreams]

Chase and Jameson doing some fluffy stuff, maybe baking together? Could be romantic or platonic . whatever you're comfortable doing.

Aw!!! I really like this request just for the fluff that can happen, but I also want to do an unrequited love/unsure attraction with this prompt. So, here we go down the rabbit hole!! I hope this is tickles your fancy. 

Baked with Love

It’s wrong, well, most would think it’s wrong. Being in love with his brother, his twin, his double, but there’s an attraction he can’t deny. He doesn’t push him feeling on his double, hasn’t even hinted that there is anything more than brotherly love going on wildly inside his heart.

He knows if he were to ever utter the words out loud, to confess these feelings hidden deep within in, he would most likely lose his most precious person. Even as he shares a house filled with his duplicates there is still just the one that makes his heart skip and lets butterflies run rampant in his stomach. 

As of this moment he stands shoulder to shoulder with the one person he can never have. His hands are covered in flour and sugar as he makes sugar cookies for Valentine’s Day of all days to be making cookies. It feels like cruel irony that he’s making cookies with the one person he wishes he could give the cookies too. 

Looking over at the familiar face happily chatting away while rolling out a thick ball of cookie dough, he wishes he could just kiss him, just once to know what it feels like. He can’t help but wonder if it would be classified as incest or masturbation if anything would ever transpire between them. In just about every aspect they are the same person, thought up by the same creator just different versions of the same man.

“Wow! Look at all these cookies!” Sean, the original, the first, the creator marvels entering the kitchen. Chase and Jameson both look up from their current attempts to roll out their blobs of cookie dough. 

Jameson smiles big at Sean. “They’re going to taste delicious.” He assures Sean carefully rolling out his dough. “Chase, smooth with even pressure.” Jameson coaches showing Chase how he’s supposed to roll the dough out. 

Grimacing Chase tries to follow Jameson’s actions. Try as he might, he just can’t mimic Jameson’s movements. “ I just can’t do it like you, Jay. Sean gave you all the baking skills.” Chase grouses looking at Sean. His tones is playful despite his frustration with the dough. 

Sean laughs, “Nah, that’s all Jameson. I had nothing to do with that.” Back stepping Sean looks down the hallway wen he hears his name. “Oh, we’re heading out. Will you two be okay with us gone?” Sean asks. What he’s really asking is if they’ll burn the house down making cookies.

“Everything will be just the way you left it.” Chase promises. As not not convincing enough Sean looks to Jameson.

“It’ll be fine, Sean. Chase and I will be fine.” Jamseon chimes not bothering to look up from the cookie cutters. Signe had brought over a large collection of cookie cutters. Jameson had spent the better part of a half hour sorting through the cookie cutters and picked out the romantic ones.

Sean nods and wishes them a good night before finally leaving the house. It’s either unfortunate or fortunate, neither really know which way to flip the coin, but everyone seems to have something else to do. Whether they have a date, a party, or just hate the holiday and want to be alone it’s just Chase and Jameson alone in the house making cookies. 

“Jay, is this thick enough?” Chase asked trying to make his cookies just as good as Jameson. Jameson looks over at the rolled out dough with a bright smile.

“Looks excellent!” Jamseson chimes happily. Picking out four cookie cutters Jameson next shows Chase how to place the cutters and transfer them over to the cookies sheets.

Chase doesn’t get it immediately, his first few complete messes of indescribable blobs, but Jamesom doesn’t let him scrap them. Instead he helps reshape them on the sheet with Chase’s help. Chase eventually catches on but it takes a few more oddly shaped hearts. X’s, and O’s before he had anything remotely similar to the shapes he’s using.

Glancing out of the corner of his eye he watches as his double uses the cookie cutter with ease. There isn’t any kind of hesitation as he splits the dough and moves the reshaped raw dough to the cookie sheet. He knows he shouldn’t be so fascinated, that he should just focus on the task at hand, but it’s that draw, that unmistakable attraction that keeps his attention. 

“How long will they be in the oven?” Chase asks waiting to set the timer on the oven.

“Ten minutes.” Jameson tells him already working on his next sheet of cookies. “I think we may way too much dough.” He added looking at the still to be used mount in a mixing bowl. “Why did Sean encourage this?”

Chase laughs looking at the mess they’ve made on the island. “Hey, at least we can eat the dough if we don’t make it all into cookies.” He suggests laughing at the disgusted face Jameson makes. “What? Worried about the raw eggs?” He teases flicking a clump of flour at Jameson, it lands on his rolled up sleeve. 

“Of course, you can get very sick eating raw eggs.” Jameson responds using the back of his hand to sweep away the clump of flour. “The kitchen is dirty enough, Chase. Don’t get flour everywhere.” Jameson warns going back to placing his cutters. 

Chase smiles deviously. Walking around the island, behind Jameson, he grabs the measuring cup and fills it completely with flour, the mount early spilling over as he walks over to Jameson. Without warning he dumps the cup filled with flour over Jameson’s head showering.

Crying out Jameson bumps into the island before side stepping away from Chase. “Chase! What are you thinking? You’ve gotten flour everywhere!” A cloud of finely grounded flour hangs around Jameson as he tries to dust himself off. 

Chase just laughs at the vision of Jameson covered in soft cream colored flour. “Come on, Jay. It’s funny.” Chase says in his defense. It’s not much of a defense and he know it but it’s still funny.

Jameson grouses at Chase but doesn’t retaliate against him. Instead he undoes the buttons of his shirt and slips it out of his pants. With a few tugs it comes free. Sliding it down his arms Jameson shakes it out before taking it to the laundry room. He debates removes his pants but decides it’s too indecent and leaves them on.

When he returns to the kitchen Chase is unusually quiet as he cuts out more cookies. Jameson gives him a confused look but can’t inquire immediately. The timer for the cookies beeps and he removes the sheet placing both on the cooling racks before placing his and Chase’s sheets into the oven. Setting the timer Jameson scoops each cookie of the baking sheet to completely cool on the racks.

“Chase, you are going to clean up all the flour.” Jameson orders setting the still hot sheets on the oven to cool completely. 

Chase simply nods his head without saying a word and walks out of the room. Jameson raises a brow in question but doesn’t follow. Frowning Jameson grabs plastic zip up bags and puts the remaining cookie dough away. He gets the broom out and begins sweeping up keeping an eye on the timer still curious as to what happened with Chase. 

Once again when the timer beeps he takes out the cookie sheets. Turning off the oven Jameson leaves the kitchen to find Chase. Walking down the hallway Jameson hears Chase whispering to himself. The closer he gets better he hears him whispering, “This is wrong, it’s wrong. I have to stop this. He’s me! He’s like a brother, stop, just stop.”

Frowning Jameson can’t help but peek around the corner as Chase paces back and forth in a private den. His hands in his hair as he paces back and forth whispering he’s sick that he’s gross, that there must be something wrong with him. Jameson doesn’t completely understand until a bulge in Chase’s pants catch his attention. 

Ducking back around the corner at the dawning realization that Chase doesn’t just have a brotherly love for him, but a romantic interest. Unsure what to do with the information Jameson rushes down the hallway as quietly as he can. 

The last thing he wants to do is upset Chase further. Standing in the kitchen once more Jameson replays the scene over and over in his head. He can’t get over the thought Chase lusts after him. It’s wrong, in so many ways, but...

But it makes him happy. It makes his own desires valid. Even with the knowledge Jameson knows he can’t act upon it. No matter how much he would like too.

Hearing Chase’s footstep Jameson still hasn’t decided what to do with the information. Does he tell Chase he feels the same? Does he continue on as if nothing has happened? He just doesn’t know what to do.

Looking at the flour still dusting the floor Jameson hears Chase enter the kitchen. Chase walks past him without a word and takes up the broom as Jameson had minutes before. Jameson watches Chase calmly and quietly sweep the floor.

Moving purely on instinct and desire Jameson walks over to Chase and grabs his face. Chase looks into Jameson’s eyes with question and a longing Jameson never noticed before.

“Jay?” Chase manages to whisper before Jameson claims his lips. Within seconds Chase become clay, malleable and placid against Jameson’s lips. 

Jameson doesn’t let him have a chance to pull away. Deepening the kiss Jameson presses Chase against that wall. He’s always wanted to dominate the normally dominate ego. When air becomes an issue Jameson pulls away from Chase. 

Neither quite know what to say, so they don’t say anything at all. Without a single thought Chase pulls Jameson back to him, kissing him harder, longer than he’s kissed anyone. The pair makeout in the kitchen before hearing keys in the lock of the main door. 

Quick to part like teenagers caught necking them straighten themselves out, smiling knowingly to each other before Jameson walks to his room to get a different shirt on. Chase stays in the kitchen to finish cleaning watching as Anti enters the kitchen non the wiser to what happened.

“You didn’t get very far.” He remarks looking at the plain cookies on the counter.

Chase smirks. “We got far enough.” 

[itsdaniclayton]

it’s amazing what baking can do

Okay so, this is my first attempt at writing and I’m not even sure myself what is going on here but anyway here it is. A massive shoutout to @elsaclack and @peraltiagoisland for being incredibly supporting and encouraging and for helping me and letting me yell about this.

(Title from “what baking can do” from Waitress)

Amy’s reading is interrupted by a loud clashing sound coming from the kitchen. She looks up from her book and listens, wondering what Jake could possibly be doing. They rarely cook anything, most of their meals consist of takeout or whatever Charles brings them, and when one of them does cook, or at least tries to, it usually ends in complete disaster. It is quiet for a bit so she decides to pay no mind to it and continue with the book as it is finally getting interesting.

No more than five lines later she hears the noise again, this time followed by what sounds very much like Jake cursing. She sighs and puts the book down. It is better to check what he is doing before he can make a mess, or break something, or hurt himself.

She is too late, though. Almost every single pot they own is on the counter, along with some bowls and plates of different sizes. The mixer is there too, all ready to be used, and is that the flour container by the coffee maker? He’s too focused looking for something in the fridge to notice Amy standing in the doorway.

“What are you doing?” she asks.

It is only after he found whatever he was looking for, took it out, and placed it on the counter (how he found free space to put it, she has no idea) that he finally turns to her.

“It’s Boyle’s birthday tomorrow,” he says, matter-of-factly.

She knows that. She had gotten him a present, wrapped it, and written a handmade card over a week ago. She stares at him puzzled, not really sure how the birthday is related to the mess he is making.

“I’m going to bake a cake for him,” he adds and turns back to the counter so as to go on with what he was doing.

Amy stares at him for a moment. Knowing him, there can be only one plausible explanation for why he was suddenly so determined to cook something. “You forgot to get him a present, didn’t you?”

Jake sighs and nods. It isn’t that he forgot about Boyle’s birthday, he knows when it is. He just messed up the dates like he usually did and if Charles hadn’t invited them to a birthday dinner he would have probably missed it completely. He shrugs. “I think he’s probably going to enjoy a homemade cake more than anything I could get him at the last moment.”

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” She understands him, she really does, but she is also aware that he does not have the best cooking record (hers is somehow even worse) and things could very easily end up in chaos.

“Ames, chill. I looked up a recipe, see.” He takes out his phone from his pocket, unlocks it, and shows her the website where he found it, the article titled ‘Basic Vanilla Cake’. He had spent more time than he is willing to admit looking up something that seemed easy enough for him to make. “I got this.”

Amy watches from her spot in the doorway as he looks at the bowls and chooses the most adequate one for mixing the ingredients. He has a problem then, as there is nowhere to put it. He tries moving aside some of the pans but they fall to the floor making a loud noise, the same kind that brought her into the kitchen in the first place. He moves quickly trying to pick them up, the sudden movement knocking down other pans which then knock down the flour container that he had opened for some reason and in an instant everything is covered in flour, including him.

She does everything in her power not to laugh but she can’t help the small chuckle that escapes her as she watches her boyfriend fighting the kitchen (the kitchen is winning). She can see that he really is trying, though, and the fact that he is putting so much effort in doing something for a friend makes her feel all warm and fuzzy.

“I can help you if you want,” Amy offers.

“Sorry, babe,” he says, as he attempts to clean the flour from his shirt, “but if I want the cake to be edible, you can’t be allowed anywhere near.”

She rolls her eyes and walks into the kitchen anyway. The mess is physically hurting her so she picks up what he dropped, but before she can do anything about the flour-covered counter he stops her.

“Jake, come on, let me help.”

“Fine,” he sighs. He looks at her as seriously as he can, but his mouth shows the tiniest hint of a smile. “This is going to make you incredibly horny,” he pauses in an attempt to create suspense, fishes his phone from his pocket and hands it to her. “You can read the instructions and tell me what to do.”

She can feel the heat rushing to her cheeks thanks to his remark, but she just rolls her eyes at him and snatches the phone from his hand. While she reads the instructions thoroughly he picks the most adequate bowl for the task and then starts putting away the rest. Amy notices that most of them are definitely not going into the right cabinet, but, as much as it irritates her, she chooses to ignore it as she is is currently busy with the instructions (she will come back later and rearrange everything). When she looks up from the phone, he is ready to begin making the batter.

“You know,” she says, rereading the instructions to make sure she got all the steps right, “you actually have to preheat the oven first. And butter the pan.”

“I’ll do that later, tell me what I have to mix first.”

“No, Jake.” One thing she would never do is mess up instructions when she is perfectly capable of following them, and even if she technically isn’t the one making the cake, she will not let instructions be disregarded under her watch. “It says here you have to preheat the oven first.”

“Amyyy.” He stretches the last letter in such a way that makes him sound like he’s pleading her to forget the instructions for once in her life and just tell him what he has to mix.

“Jakeee.” She imitates his tone and he knows then that she is not giving in; she will not read another word until he does what he is supposed to.

“Okay, fine!” He he reluctantly turns on the oven and butters the pan, Amy explaining in full detail how he is supposed to do it. “Can I begin mixing now?” he asks, once he finishes.

“Yes. First, you have to sift in the flour, baking powder, and salt.”

He nods. The flour container is on the counter (for some unexplainable reason there is still flour in it), but the baking powder and salt are nowhere to be seen. He grabs it and starts pouring flour into the bowl.

“Jake, no!” Amy’s sharp scream startles him, almost making him spill the flour again. “First of all, it says you have to sift in the flour, and second, you’re going to make a mess if you don’t measure the ingredients.” She starts searching for the measuring cup and finds it in the same spot where she put it after the last time she had attempted cooking. She can’t believe he was just going to pour stuff and hope he would get the right proportions. The absence of the other ingredients makes a new thought cross her mind. “Did you even check we had everything that you needed before starting?”

“Uhhh… no?”

“Oh my god, you’re unbelievable.”

She immediately starts looking for what they need, the recipe already memorized. It baffles her that they do have everything. She’s not sure when or why she last bought baking powder but it is here and good to use.

From that moment on the cake making process becomes simple teamwork, Amy measuring the ingredients and Jake putting them in and mixing them. Before they know it the batter is done, and both of them are actually thrilled because it looks good.

Jake dramatically pours the batter into the pan while he exclaims things like ‘I’m the best cook ever,’ and ‘Should we retire and open a bakery?’ Amy can’t stop herself from smiling, partly because they actually managed to cook something, and partly because he’s such a dork.

His comments keep coming as he puts the pan inside the oven. ‘This present is going to put all the others to shame,’ ‘Boyle is going to be so excited he’s going to pee his pants,’ ‘Our kids are going to have the best birthday cakes ever.’

Amy freezes.

He is not really aware of what he just said until a few seconds later when recognition washes over him and he freezes too.

A moment passes when they are both silent and looking everywhere except at the other. Amy finds the counter fascinating and notices for the first time the small drops of batter that landed on the cold surface, most probably during the beating of the ingredients. She feels a sudden urge to clean them, if only she could move.

“I, um,” he breaks the silence and she can tell that he is trying to think exactly what to say and not make everything even more awkward. His mouth opens and closes a few times but nothing comes out of it until he finally says “I’m going to wash the dishes and clean up everything. You can go back to what you were doing.”

She nods, and as she turns to leave their eyes meet for an instant and there is so much she wants to say but her thoughts are all tangled up and even if she was able to speak all she’d be able to produce would be a bunch of incoherent phrases.  

She is not really sure how but she finds herself sitting on the couch, her book opened on her lap. She is staring intently at the pages in front of her but the words are invisible. He said our kids, she heard him loud and clear. She’s not freaking out, she’s not. They were going to have this conversation sooner or later, she knew that, but she was definitely not expecting him to randomly mention it while they were baking a cake of all things. She is pretty sure he didn’t even intend to say it, but he did, and they can’t just ignore it and pretend nothing happened. Okay, maybe she is freaking out a bit. How are they even supposed to do this? She does want kids eventually, and from what she was able to perceive in the years she has known him she thinks he wants kids too. But what if she is horribly wrong? However, he did just say our kids, so he must want them because why would he say that if he didn’t? She takes a deep breath in an attempt to calm down because she is most definitely freaking out. She’s not sure why, though. She doesn’t normally have a problem when she has to talk to Jake about anything, and it looks like they are going to agree on this. Still, she would rather have to work a case with Hitchcock and Scully than have this conversation right now.

Amy’s not sure how much time passes, but suddenly he’s sitting next to her and she can feel him staring. She takes another deep breath and turns towards him.

“Listen,” he begins, “about what I said–”

“It’s okay, Jake,” she interrupts. Her heart is pounding and she physically cannot look at him in the eyes, her gaze fixed on his shirt instead. She can still see spots of flour on it. “We had to talk about this at some point.”

“Yeah.”

There’s an extremely awkward silence between them and if she was freaking out before, she is now freaking out times two. She wants him to talk, to say anything, because if this silence goes on for another minute she will explode. It crosses her mind then that maybe he’s just as nervous as she is, and that thought calms her down slightly.

“Look,” he starts again, speaking slowly, as if he was carefully choosing every word. “I’m sorry for freaking you out, I-I wasn’t thinking when I said that, but…” he pauses and sighs in frustration. He curses his brain for not being cooperative. He needs the right words now more than even because he cannot mess this up. “I want– I mean, I stand by what I said, I–”

“I WANNA HAVE BABIES WITH YOU!” She can feel an intense heat on her face the moment she realizes what she just blurted out. She sits still, and after a beat closes her eyes and buries her face in her hands. The darkness is comforting. She can pretend she’s not there, she’s not sitting with Jake, and she definitely did not just scream at him that she wants to have babies with him.

She doesn’t know how long she stays like that, but she he is still there next to her. She can feel his weight on the couch, and she would have heard him move. Her eyes turn immediately towards him, and the moment their eyes meet she can feel her face turning a darker shade of red (if that was even possible).

He is smiling a bit, his eyes full of affection; the same way he looks at her when she says or does something he finds endearing. She can feel a warmth slowly spreading inside her the longer he stares at her like that, and this is actually helping her calm down.

He moves closer and puts his arm around her. She rests her head on his shoulder, welcoming the feeling of ease and comfort that immediately surrounds her. Her heart is still beating way faster and louder than normal, but now she can feel his, and she is sure it would tie with hers, maybe even beat it.

“I wanna have babies with you too,” he says after a moment of silence.

A smile starts forming on her face and she moves closer to him, burying her face in his neck. She feels silly for being so nervous. This is Jake. She is not really sure why she was freaking out, she knows how easy it is to talk to him, and that as much as he likes joking around, he can tell when something is serious. And babies is probably the most serious thing they’ve ever discussed (if what just happened can be considered a discussion).

“Our kids are going to be the cutest ever,” she hears him say.

She moves from her position and sits straight, facing him. “I agree,” she begins, still smiling, “but there is something I need to know. When you say kids, how many exactly do you have in mind?”

“I don’t know...” He thinks for a moment, “Like eight or ten.”

“Yeah, that is definitely not going to happen.”

“Why not? You have seven brothers,” he says, as if she had forgotten that piece of information.

“That is exactly why.”

“Oh, come on, Ames,” he protests, “I’m sure it was super fun.”

“More like extremely chaotic.”

“Okay, well, how many do you want?”

She contemplates her answer carefully. “Two?”

“Let’s agree on five.”

“Jake, I don’t think you’re considering how hard raising children can be.”

“Okay, okay, four.”

She can’t really hear his last comment, something else suddenly occupying her mind. “Jake–”

He doesn’t see the abrupt change in her, he is completely immersed  in his own thoughts. “We’re going to be the best parents ever, and our kids are going to be the cutest, and–”.

“Jake!” she almost screams, making him stop talking. “How long has the cake been in the oven?”

“I, uh, I don’t know?”

There is a very strong burning smell filling the apartment. Amy quickly stands up and rushes to the kitchen, Jake following her. She turns off the oven and takes the cake out. What was originally a vanilla cake is now completely black and does not look edible at all.

Amy sighs and turns towards Jake, who is completely clueless about what happened. “Didn’t you set a timer?” she asks.

“Yes, I did!” He grabs his phone and unlocks it to check what happened. The clock app is still open, the timer set for the 30 minutes that the cake required, the start button never pressed. “Oh my god, I’m an idiot.”

She can see the disappointment on his face and it breaks her heart a little. Then, suddenly, an idea comes to her mind. “I think I know how we can fix this.”

Charles is already sitting at his desk when Jake and Amy arrive at the precinct the following morning. No one else from the squad is there yet, though, something both Jake and Amy are thankful for. The less people to witness what was going to happen, the better. Charles turns to face the elevator the moment he hears it opening and is just thrilled to see them walking in together, like he always is whenever he sees them.

Instead of going to their desks, they go straight to Boyle’s. Jake carefully places the box he was carrying on the desk. “Happy birthday, buddy.”

“Happy birthday,” Amy repeats after him.

Charles looks like he could burst from excitement as he opens the box. Inside it there is a tiny cake, the frosting spread evenly, colorful sprinkles decorating it. Amy had cut out the burned parts, which left them with a significantly smaller cake than the original, but it is better than giving him ‘burned garbage’, a term they both had heard Boyle use before, and after decorating it, the cake actually looks pretty good.

Charles gasps at the sight of it, always excited when it comes to food. “Thank you!” He’s louder than necessary, something that makes a few people look in their direction but Charles doesn’t seem to care. “Where did you get this? I don’t think I know a place that makes cakes this size.”

Jake and Amy look at each other for a moment. They know what will happen the moment they tell him the truth, and neither of them is ready. Again, they are thankful that it is still early and the precinct is relatively empty.

“Um, actually,” Jake begins after a moment. They had decided on the car who was going to break the news to Charles. The cake had been Jake’s idea so he has to tell him. “We made it.”

“You WHAT?” he yells, leaping out of his chair. “YOU MADE THIS TINY CAKE TOGETHER?!” He is practically jumping around with excitement. He loves his present, but he loves the fact that they cooked something together even more.

“You should sit,” Amy tells him.

“Boyle are you crying?” Jake asks. He is pretty sure Charles just wiped a tear from his face.

“YES! ALL MY DREAMS ARE COMING TRUE! SOON YOU’LL BE MAKING BABIES!”

[lylakotamora]

White Dragon: The following morning. 2/4

( kothar ) Ah~ The sun was finally rising. Small particles could be seen in the light from the window as the sun rose above the horizon. Kothar had slept soundly with no issues. Kothar was usually a heavy sleeper when he was comfortable somewhere. The location didn’t matter, as long as he was comfortable. Dreams were also pleasant for once instead of the usual night terrors. Dreams of a nice stable home, large in size a nice family 9 in amount. Pleasant, pleasant. Slowly his purple hues began to shine through eyelids. A parting of his lips led to a yawn allowing his arms to stretch and his legs to extend to the foot of the bed. His vision was still slightly, though they were only looking at the stone wall that the bed laid near. His hand felt something, and for a reason unknown he’d squeeze it lightly. It felt soft but firm. A soft, “Hm” escaped his lips as he was thinking what it could be. A pillow. With a few more squeezes his hues looked at his hand. His eyes widened quickly seeing that it had been Lyla’s breast. ‘What the!?!? Why is she in my bed!?! NAKED!?!?!’ 

His thoughts exactly. Though Kothar was still oblivious that he was really in Lyla’s room. His hand released her breast as his face began to fill with the blush. “HEY!?!” He yelled at her trying to wake up. “Hey!” He pulled the cover off of her… A bad move… She was completely naked. Kothar may have been awake, but his brain wasn’t there yet. This could be an opportunity to mess with her. Non-sexually of course. Though it seemed she had let her Voluptuous body wear down over the years, she was still a beauty in his eyes. He tapped her then pushed her with the palm of his hand. Then he felt a breeze upon his own body. He had been in the nude as well. He sat up placing his bare feet upon the cold ground. His movement caused the bed to a slightly creek. With the movement of sitting up, he chuckled quietly. His right elbow placed upon his right knee and the hand placed upon his face. Each of his fingers spread apart. “Sililos.” He quietly called out. Back upon the docks of Aria aboard the ship he had arrived on, the staff that had glowed bright purple began to wiggle out of it’s anchored spot. And without fail it broke free and shot out of the ship at speeds faster than light. With the feeling of his treasure fast approaching he stood up and walked towards the window, opening it letting a breeze come through. His right hand extended out of the window, palm open. Within a few moments, his treasure staff at slammed into the palm of his hand. As the feeling touched his palm he closed it quickly taking the force and seizing the momentum. Though this caused him to slide sideways slightly he still held his balance. The staff afterward, was absorbing in the palm. The same brightness forming and encasing his body in a more permanent attire formed over his legs. The top half was a bit of a problem… Where could he find a shirt that could fit him? He sat back on the bed allowing it to creek once again placing a hand upon his cheek letting out a sigh only to look back at Lyla to see if she was awake. She was definitely still naked.

(Lyla ) With her back turned towards the windows, the sun that was quickly rising was not bothering Lyla at all. It had been a long night indeed, from staying up and baking and finishing off a hand full of wine bottles and having to share a stolen bed, but those details were fuzzy from the lingering alcohol. Her mind was off in a dream, as her body laid limp and at rest. The Staff of Kotamora was starting their duties, The sound of Morning guards relieving the night shift and maids entering empty rooms to be cleaned. A cook and his staff headed to the kitchen to begin the day's meals. Once entering the cigarette that was wedged into the chef's mouth fell and landed on the floor. “ Qu'est-ce que la base.” His voice boomed down a couple halls causing a crowd to peak into the kitchen. Flour everywhere, every dish messed and spilled spices. The kitchen was a war zone of baked goods. In the center of the island was a pile of cookies and five empty wine bottles. As Kothar tried to wake her up, Lyla murmured and waved her hand at the male. “ Five more minutes Media.” She said with the utmost laziest voice. Her mind clasping onto slumber as the outside world was knocking. Lyla felt cold air wash over her relatively warm body, causing her to shiver. Lyla’s eyes closed she tried feeling for the silk sheet, after feeling around for it with no prevail she had finally started to sit up. Her eyes instantly going to the window that was blinding her. Her forearm cast over her eyes as Lyla waited for her hues to adjust… “ Why is the window open” As those words slipped out of her lips heavily with sleep. She felt her head… “ how much did I drink last night?” As these questions were being asked to herself only, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. She was in her own room, her tongue trying to save her pallet from the dryness, she could taste the sour/tart wine she had last. In her daily regimen, it was about time to wake her body with a few stretches and pops. Lyla’s knuckles, her toes, her back and then her neck…. In this motion, a large shadow was seen between her squinting eyes... Lyla came to realize why she was up and why the window was open. A loud shriek came from her lips. In shock she began to yell. “ wux vyklade. What are you doing in my bed!” She instantly grabbed the covers and covered her body for modesty. Lyla’s free hand grabbing anything close enough to throw, which happened to be pillows. She was standing on her knees atop of the bed, attempting to scare him away. “ GET OUT, GET OUT, GET OUT!!!” She had run out of pillows and as she was searching for something else, her mind was asking a million questions… Her eyes widen as she had little memory after leaving the kitchen… “ DID We………” She was frozen afraid of his answer.

(Kothar ) His silhouette was casted as a shadow upon the bed, his hand still placed upon his cheek leading up to a sigh. Then he heard stirring behind him. Was Lyla finally awaking? It seemed so. He didn’t turn his head till he heard a shriek exiting from her lips causing his eyes to shut quickly out of the annoyance of the sound. “ Don’t yell at me!” He stood up quickly taking the blow of the pillows which was very ineffective on her part. “ si mi ti vi vyklade, wux re! “ He returned the tongue of his being without realizing she spoke to him in the same language for a moment. His left hand pointed towards her vigorously. “ How did you get in my bed! Why are you in my room!” He yelled. Kothar was still oblivious that this still wasn’t his room. “ AND WHY ARE YOU NAKED!?!” He looked down at himself then back at her. “ ...You didn’t do anything to me while I was sleeping.” His hues narrowed at her. His stomach growled… In annoyance of the all the yelling his right hand rematerialized the staff known as ‘Sililos’ The room brightened greatly as the staff elongated to about 7 feet before changing its shape to the form of a sword. His arm stretched out towards her the tip aimed close to the center point of her neck. His eyes reached ignition and began to burn brightly along with the sword, that emitted heat strong enough to heat the room within seconds. “ Do it again and I will kill you…” His voice was cold and dark. Then silence filled the room. Within the silence his stomach grumbled yet again. “ Blast this feeling of hunger!” The sword quickly dissipated as Kothar turned around and stormed towards the door, opening it violently in search for something to eat. He left the door open behind him as he roamed the halls shirtless.

( selacity ) as night was turning into day a silhouette was seen in the courtyard of the castle grounds just stepping out of a watch tower. As specs of light would brush along the figure, easily blending her against the tower and plants along its side. The hooded figure was much taller than your average guard in a black and red meshed coat, though slimmer then the males. The face of the stranger was not to be seen from any angle around it as it would move over towards the bushes by the tower and bend seemingly to remove and mess with something by the bush. At her feet would be two guards who would be tied and bound into a sitting position against the stone cold walls, their mouth’s gagged and eyes closed as if they were sleeping for some time, each had a bruise along their temple. Securing the gag’s and tightening the guards ropes the figure would raise and stretch slightly, the hooded head glancing along the grounds seeing the staff beginning to start their routine. Moving her hand over the face of one of the guards she would step inside the tower and come out an entirely different person, her build was much more built and nowhere close to the being that she was. As she was moving outside the gate the guard would watch and then with the new face would wink towards the male with a boyish grin as a blush would move along his face. Moving up to the being her voice now deepened “Sorry to bother, but care to come with me to the stables?” The guard would stammer slightly as he would stare into her eyes and as if in a trance would move along with her casually yet seemed slightly bewildered. From a distance they would be seen moving along the garden very casually and she would be glancing about at the staff working on the plants and hedging’s. “Do you know the name of the mare you have” he would ask her…She would curse under her breath and lie through her lips. “Sure, mines is rather unique in personality but it would be fine when I see it.” She said in her male deep voice. It wasn’t a lie since she can charm most animals, horses being one of the easiest…though she would think of a way to return it another time. Soon they would reach and she could see the stables not too far in a distance. As they would reach she would nod and the male would prepare the horse equipment while she glanced around at her selection. Roaming along the stables she would find a stallion with a sleek dark coat. Her eyes meeting his it would seem to move its head around as if intimidated by her and stomp its hooves. She would move closer to the stall door, pressing her hands against the stall just as the guard from the gate would place the belts along the door. “Go guard the entrance. When I finish feel free to leave and return to your post.” He would nod and do exactly as she said and lookout for her at the stables entrance. Most of the horses had already been let out in the fields to graze upon the grass….he must be a new horse she noted as his mane was naturally sleek with no brush marks. Its hooves were dirty with no horse shoes. She smiled and would change to her normal form wanting to be more familiar with the horse as it seemed taken by her. It had stopped moving about and flared its nostrils but no longer avoiding her as she moved closer to brush along its nose. Its deep hazel eyes would focus on her as she would smile and rub along its neck with her bare hands. The now baggy armor was rather heavy so she would undress, her dark leather tight suite still on as she would pile it in the corner of the stall and begin to equip the horse.

( Lyla) Lyla had a sour look on her face as he was talking nonsense.. “ Yo….YOUR ROOM?. “ The words shot out like a bullet. This is my chambers!” As he called her a snake she scoffed. And snarled. “ wux overgrown tilsin. wux illiterate edfasal! wux, wux... wux sthyr kenzi!” She stood up on the bed as her right hand pressed the sheet against her chest as her long white hair covered her backside... She had an angry look on her face. “ again you incompetent bastard, this is my room.” As Lyla was yelling and her mind fully awaken she started to remember. “ I came up here to find you in my bed. I could not move you or wake you up!. This is the only bed in the castle that comfortably accommodates for my height. You weaseled your way in here and whoever allowed you to taint my privacy will be killed.- As she was becoming more pissed her eyes started to glow bright blue as her hues was a fiery sea.- “ of course I didn't do anything to you while you were sleeping. What do I look like a wench?. You not all that alluring and tempting as you may think. With your large muscles, and your large chest, with your strong jawline, and your perfect complexion and your…. Eyes… “ She paused as she was getting distracted by finding things to list off. With the quick motion of his sword being pointed at her neck, she became enraged again. “ How dare you point that thing at me.” Her hand swiftly slapped it out of her direction. With the sudden heat and his cold words, Lyla fell silent as her wide eyes landed on his face, a hard swallow left her throat. Before she knew it he was walking away from her. “ aye... I am not done with you! Get back here!.” Lyla followed him out to the hall as she was attempting to catch up to him. Forgetting that she was only wearing a silk sheet. The moment Lyla yanked on his arm, she had stepped on the cloth pulling off her body. Her body froze for a quick moment. As guards and other staff gasped and started to whisper and chuckle. Her face completely red, Lyla grabbed the sheet and headed back into her room. “ You all forget what you saw or i'll have a raven pluck out your eyes... “ her words booming off the walls causing everyone to scatter back to their jobs. At this moment guards who were stationed at the top of the tower found the night shift men tied up and gagged. “ Bloody hell what happened here” “ mmm mmmm gfmm” The guard stupidly tried talking before released. “ shut up and let me untie you. “ The guard released the others and then they started to tell the story. “ a shapeshifter of sorts..” As they finished up their report the men were calm and started to bullshit. Following a puff of smoke. “ So the Empress slept with the dragon that came in last night..” “really, how do you know. “ “ well, first of all, they had a fight coming out of her chambers and she was naked. “ The men laughed “ well it's about time she gets dick, she's been a real bitch the past twenty years... “ You said it brother.” … Back in the chambers, Lyla was getting properly dressed.

( Kothar ) As he storms away he mutters under his breath angrily. Kothar wasn’t much of a morning person and the events leading to this was not helping. As he walked the energy from his being was softly escaping making the ground shake. He growled. The a shock expression formed upon his face as he felt a yank upon his arm, his head turned to see that it was Lyla. Then of her falling. His face had a quick expression of worry seeing her fall. Then run back to her room yelling at the men as they chuckled. Then of them scattering hearing her words. She struck fear into these people. Though such a thing wasn’t a bad thing. The worried expression disappear quickly and he continued walking trying to find a kitchen of sorts. He wasn’t familiar with the estate he got lost easily. He found rooms after rooms. “ Fuck this blasted estate!” His right fist curled into a fist before slamming into the wall nearest him, cracking it having some dust and debris fall upon the mahogany wood floors. The next room he entered was that where some men were finishing their reports. He entered as they were speaking and after they had finished their conversation. They hadn’t noticed him until they had finished. Kothar’s eyes ignited with a blaze. His left hand reached for one of the men’s neck, gripping it tightly and lifting him in the air before crushing his neck, having the man’s head drop on the ground separated from his body. The man’s body hit the ground with a thud as blood poured from where his head once used to be. The men looked at him with fear cowering within their seats. “ How dare you speak of a woman with such disrespect!?!” His voice boomed through the hallways for all to hear. “ Take it all back ! “ The men shook the heads, while their bodies shook, “ w-w-we do…” “ Good! Next time your fate will be worse than that man!” Kothar pointed to the bodiless head. Once more Kothar stormed out of a room in anger muttering under his breath. “ Disrespectful, incompetent little shits..” Finally the next room he entered was the kitchen. It was still in the process of being clean so there was no food being made at the time. Though his eyes did catch a batch of cookies, which he took in his hand and began eating them walking back out of the kitchen.

( Lyla ) The embarrassment was all too much, Frustration, Intimidation, and Attraction. These feelings brewed inside the woman’s stomach and chest as she slides down the door, that was slammed, holding her face. No sound was admitted, but a dark aura was spewing out. It was as thick as molasses, as it started to seep under the doors and out to the hall. The guards standing near became disgusted and started to disband it. This was all too familiar to the woman crouched in front of the door. Lyla was beginning to glitch. Her selves splitting, becoming out of unity. Their internal argument was seeping out. Angel “ You aren't worthy of this position anymore, look at you. You are a mess.” The Wolf “ Shut up you're not a saint either.” The vampire spoke up “ Maybe I should take over and have her suppress you all.” The wolf “ Last time you were in charge, you killed the entire staff of the estate for your bloodlust” In unison, all the demons spoke up. Their voice legion. “ Shut up all of you, Lyla is in control. The only reason you all are here is because she defeated each one of us. Don’t forget how powerful she is. You all are mere accessories. She lost her children and had to rebuild an entire empire while morning. Shut up and get back to unison.” All the demons within Lyla had always kept the others in check. With the argument subsiding Lyla stood up and took a deep breath in filling her lungs and exhaling with a flame spitting out from her tongue. She did not want to call in a handmaiden, So Lyla placed her hair up into a large bun. Her horns propped it up so it wouldn't come undone from its own weight. After placing on a short dress with knee-high boots, she was ready to leave her chambers. Before she could exit the room there was a knock on the door. “ Madam Lyla, we have a problem.” The woman opened the door to find one of her upper-class sergeants, he was in charge of the outer personnel duty. “ What is it Flaux. “ The woman stepped out of her room, quickly closing the door so he would not see the rage induced disaster that had commenced inside. “ The Dragon… He Killed one of our men.. Four others reported it and he's somewhere in the empire. We have men looking for him now.” The woman rose her hand cutting him off as she thought. “ He killed one and not the four others… He didn't attack them it was a statement of sorts.They obviously didn't attack back so meaning it was either well deserved or they are too chicken shit to do anything. Call off the warrant and I'll find him myself. “ The man gulped not sure if he should say what he was about to. But he spoke anyways “ Do you think that is a good idea regarding what happened earlier this morning?” In a quick motion, the woman grabbed the man by his neck. “ I had strict orders that everyone forgets what they have seen, and rumor or talk of it will be punishable by death. Got it? “ The man was clawing at her hand for release as he nodded frantically in agreement. “ Spread the word” She spoke with authority. “ yes madam. “ The man scurried away as she made her way down to the kitchen. She wanted to eat something before dealing with the man again. Just the thought caused a pulse in her head of annoyance. After long she came up hearing commotion in the kitchen. The chef yelling in French. “ Vous cochon, sortez de ma cuisine. Es-tu en train de m'écouter, toi, lézard! “ She peeked her head in first noticing that there was no food. “ Its almost noon and there is no food! As she panned around the room she noticed Kothar eating her cookies. -.-* The sight of him stuffing his face with her cookies caused her to yell over the chef.  “ kii re wux soneir sia achthend? irral, coi ui|ulph sia drekiw vur jaka sia achthend? tiliw ti wux gethrisj sone vi tekir usv creolnali? “ She walked up to him and snatched a half eaten cookie from his hand and placed it between her teeth biting into it. “ What are you doing Killing my men and keeping my staff from doing their jobs?

( Silver )-The breeze brought forth a slight ease over the Orn’s 15 foot lean muscular frame. His black scales, like obsidian stone, flexed and closed gently over his body as if they flowed like a river that rippled over the large stones embedded into it. Orn walked through a large town the seemed to bustle through out the day with merchants, tradesmen, Officials, why, even the species had seemed to vary. No surprise that Orn had strolled into the town with his presence to barely cause a ripple with the town’s inhabitants. The only ones who seemed to take longer than a second of a glance at him were either the local law enforcement or the few tourists he would come across. With his long legs that were jointed like the hind legs of an animal and paws that had four talon like claws on each toe he strode through at about six feet in a casual pace. The talons clicked on the cobblestones of the streets he walked that were to be slightly drowned out by the wagon wheels on the carts with goods or crops to be shipped to their locations. Because of the high population as well as his size he had to be careful which way he stepped but more to his concern was his tail. It, with it’s ten feet in length, obsidian stone in appearance tip, and spikes the lined and grew larger as well as thicker up to the nape of neck until four large black spikes curved upward to very fine points, had tended to sway each way it wished without a requirement of thought from Orn. This, he felt, could cause a bit of an issue in the crowded street as he was a guest and still unsure of the laws here. TO ease his movements he kept his anthro like arms with their 3 black spike under the forearms and large blade like one behind the elbows up as his hands with their five black curved claws at each fingertip where interlocked around his neck. He kept his hands just under the four large horns, two of which had yet to break through his scales while the other two layered back like a rams. He could see over the crowd easily enough to the main gate with his grey smoke like iris’ and black angelic sigil for pupils in his eyes. As he focused them to where they acted like scope he was able to zoom in and see the guards that had been posted there. After Orn relaxed his vision he returned his equally proportioned maw to a slightly upward tilt. Mostly this was because with every exhalation of breath red and orange flames liked to flicked between the row of black steel like teeth. As a sign of peace to those who knew the draconic language he would at a seldom puff small clouds of white smoke from his nostrils as they had opened and closed with Orn’s whim. It only took him about 20-30 minutes to reach the main gate of the Castle of Kotamora. Orn spoke with one of the five guards without removing his gaze from the castle. His tone was although neutral it often sounded like a half growl from his gravely voice. It took him a few minutes to get the human speak correctly when he finally said “I am called Orn in my language. I’m here to the King and Queen Kothar and Lyla.” Orn chuckled silently as the guard he spoke to observed him as the other four seemed to walk around inspecting Orn’s naked body to look for any possible hidden weapons. Finally satisfied the guard seemed to call over two of the searchers. Orn could hear the instructions that he laid on them as they were to watch him while they escorted him to the main entrance. -The thick fog banks that covered the higher elevations had seemed to clear from sight the further along he and the two guards travelled. Orn’s talons clicked against the path that was lined by small pebbles of grey stone that where held together by mortar of similar color as the path winded it’s way through a forest of medium thickness. Between the trees a long with the pets and various animals held in protected habitats where dozens more guards. All had watched as He was to be escorted up the hill. It seemed the higher they went the more the sound of the city was to be drowned by the running waters of the two rivers that flowed through the area. This put Orn more at ease for he was more accustomed to living in the wild lands then with the higher societies that he often visited but rarely stayed with. Orn had felt his arms to grow a bit tired of the position they were in. Slowly while one of the guards eyed him from the corner of his vision as Orn lowered them where his claws could be easily seen with every sway of his hands. 15 minutes into the travel up the path Orn became slightly impatient as thoughts of just to call up the black smoke and shadow port to the main door. He didn’t feel as though that would be a good thing to do as it most likely an alarm would be raised and several of the guards would bare down on his location. Luckily it only took another ten minutes to finally reach the large wooden double doors as they arched neatly to a carefully calculated point. One of the guards with his left hand on the hilt of his sword that hung from the black strap around his waist on his right side had raised his right hand to wrap on the door a sequence of 3 times. Just then a large armored guard about the size of Orn with more mass in appearance with his plates so dark that it matched Orn’s scales slightly had opened both doors with ease. After the guard eyed Orn as if to see his intentions with by way of to observe Orn’s eyes he looked down to the guard that knocked on the door. With a few short words that Orn decided to ignore to be exchange between the two guards they had turned away from Orn to leave him at the door. The large door keeper turned as to walk inside while the other two made their way back down the path. Since the guard made no notice or mention for Orn to come in he felt it best to wait until he was to allowed entrance.- <e>

( Kothar ) Within the kitchen he sat upon the slated counter. Ignoring the cook that was yelling at him. He paid no attention to any, being stubborn as can be. Cookies after cookies, entered his mouth. They were a variety of flavors. Kothar was still irritated about the morning's events. His blood stained hand forced another cookie into his hand. Slowly Kothar began to calm his nerves. Though the words that Lyla’s men had said still greatly angered him. “Such disrespect…” He shook his head to the left and’ right in a ‘no’ motion. He was still shirtless. It seemed like there was nothing that could fit him. He took another bite of a cookie before he saw that it was taken out of his hand by Lyla herself. “im vi fevek re ti si? si jikahshi coi ornla qe sia choice shafaer svabol si tuor ekess sone. And the only thing that was made already were these cookies.” Kothar then points to the five empty wine bottles. “ And it seems you are the reason why breakfast is very late.” He also points towards the mess she left last night after she made her cookies. “Looks like you are to blame this time…” He hops off of the counter beginning to walk past her. “ And the one man is dead, because of how your name came out of his mouth with such disrespect. I was protecting your honor.” Shrugs. “And before you say it. Yes I know you do not need me to defend your honor. I simply couldn’t standby and do nothing.” He points one last time, where he once sat. He left 8 cookies left, just for her. With that he began venturing the hallways once again.

( Lyla. ) What he was saying was the truth, she was always a giving hostess with great hospitality. He was no different from all the guest she has housed over the years. Perhaps she wanted a reason to yell at him, to hate him. Her eyes followed where he was pointing, her face growing red… It was the truth she is the reason there was nothing made. Lyla scoffed annoyed that he won this battle. She wasn't finished talking with the male, as she watched him walk away she set in motion to grab him. Hearing his words she paused and listened. Her left hand pulling to her chest as she kept her eyes on him. He protected her altho he is obviously upset with her, for false reasons, but was upset. A warmth stirred in her chest as he talked as if he knew what she was going to say like he had known her for years. A soft sigh, left her lips as she was realizing that there was no reason for her to be hostile towards the man, but the growls in her stomach interrupted that thought. Seeing his kindness of leaving her something to eat only made her feel worse, but warm at the same time. She sat on the counter where he was sitting. Feeling its warmth, she took note that his body temperature was fairly close to her own. She munched on the cookies peacefully allowing him to leave. At this moment a large shadow guard at the empire's doors awaited approval to open the doors. Its AI could not determine the threat level on its own. Since it was a manipulation of the empresses powers the decision was made quickly. The guard allowed passage, opening up the doors without saying a word. It was a mere computer-like being. The shadow guard closed the doors when the male made the passage. It simply lifted its hand and pointed towards the throne room, down the hall. Assuming that is where the male is headed Lyla was finishing up her snack before heading to meet the new guest. At this point, Lyla wanted to make peace with Kothar. He was the almighty judge over her Island. If he wanted to level Kotamora out of spite he could. Lyla sighed trying to think of a peace offering to the man… She tried to think of something that would be of use to him.. “ Heat and transformation proof clothing. So he doesn't become naked at random times.” She said to herself in thought. All of her own personal clothes was enchanted along with the majority of the estate, so it would not become ash in a Lyla’s rage. Before she entered the throne room she called over one of her handmaidens that was helping a lower class servant. From there she described a suit that would be perfect for the dragon. “ Ebony pants of a stretchable material to help with his bulkiness. A suit with purple accents to compliment his luscious. I mean his … eyes. Everything must be fitting and comfortable. Have it tailored perfectly, But try to get his measurements without him knowing what is going on. “ She smiled and headed past the throne room's doors.

[queen-of-deans-booty]

Why Won’t He Notice Me?

Characters: Castiel x Reader, Dean, Sam (mentioned once or twice)

Word Count: 2,183

Warnings: none, really. Trying to make Cas jealous? Fake Dean x Reader

Request by @innernightwerewolf: Could you do a readerxcas, where the reader likes cas, but cas unknowingly ignores them, so the reader and dean team up to make cas jealous?

Author’s Note: If you want to be tagged, leave an ask or message and I’ll add you! Same goes for my Series Rewrite! If you want to request a fic, please send them in! I love writing what you guys want!

Feedback is always appreciated

Tags at the bottom

You huffed as you walked into the library, plopping down on the chair next to Dean. He looked at you but you refused to meet his eyes. You angrily grabbed a book and opened it up, determined to let the book’s content distract you for a while.

“Did he do it again?” Dean asked.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” You mumbled, not paying attention to what you read. Castiel was a very interesting species. You loved that he was an Angel and the fact that he could help people and do Heaven some justice. You loved the way his blue eyes sparkled whenever he talks to you or when he talks about you.

He didn’t understand human emotion that well but you tried your best to show him the ropes. You answered every question he asked, no matter the level of awkwardness. This was Castiel and you loved him so much, whether he was an Angel or not.

You cherished all the time spent with him because you loved hearing about his stories of when you weren’t alive or when the Earth was just formed. You craved his attention and when you got it, you grasped onto every single ounce.

He didn’t even know that you were madly in love with him. For someone so smart and so responsive, you didn’t know how he didn’t know you loved him. He was oblivious and there were times when you straight up told him you liked him but he didn’t take it the way you wanted him to. You always left hints and he was just ignoring them.

You were getting sick and tired of trying with someone who was so oblivious to everything that was happening to him. You understood he didn’t get human emotion and you tried to deal with it but you didn’t know if you could do it anymore.

“Come on, sweetheart, talk about it. Tell me what he did this time.” Dean said, bringing you out of your thoughts.

“I’m just tired, Dean,” You said, putting the book down. “I’m tired of trying so hard only for him not to notice. We don’t have anything going on and I asked him out but he turned me down. He said that he had some business to take care of. I get that he’s an Angel and he’s busy but he’s been hanging around here for days.”

“Maybe you’re handling things the wrong way.” Dean said, the book he was reading was long forgotten.

“What do you mean?” You asked, stealing his beer and taking a sip before returning it to him.

“Look, I know Cas likes you. He spends more time with you than he ever did with me before you came around. Maybe, what you need to do is show him that you’re not interested in him.”

“Dean, you’re not making any sense right now.” You sighed, not in the mood to dechipher what he was saying.

“Make him jealous. Show him that you’re not always going to be there. That if he isn’t going to have you, then someone else will. I can guarantee you that he will notice and he will come out of his shell.” Dean said, smiling as if he was proud of himself.

“Okay, let’s assume that I go along with this plan. Who am I going to get to make him jealous? I don’t really have time to go out and find a guy who will date me for the sole purpose of making someone jealous. You know I can’t use someone like that.”

“Use me.” Dean said, shrugging as if it was that easy.

“Are you kidding me? We spend a lot of time together as it is. Cas won’t notice something off.”

“Look, Sam is away so that gives us the perfect opportunity to do this. All we have to do is be a couple when Cas is around. Trust me, he’ll notice. I would, if you were trying to make me jealous.” You stared at Dean and debated on what to do. At this point, you were ready to give us and this might work. Dean knew how to fake it until you make it, plus, he was a natural flirt by nature so your part should be fairly minimal.

You didn’t have much time to think about it because you saw the mess of dark brown hair make his way to the library. You looked at Dean to see him stare at you and you sighed internally. This better work. You got up and walked to Dean, moving his hands and sat on his lap. He was confused at first but then he saw Cas and understood.

“What’s up, Cas?” Dean said, putting his hand around your waist, resting it on your thigh. You loved Dean, but not in that way. This felt a little bit awkward but you could manage through it if it meant you got to be with Cas.

Cas looked up and his shoulders tensed a bit at the sight of you on Dean’s lap.

“What’s going on here?” He asked, walking closer to the table.

“Nothing much. We’re just catching up on some reading.” Dean replied.

“And you have to do that on his lap?” Cas asked, looking at you.

“Well, you know, it is more comfortable than a chair and Dean is more than happy to share, right?” You smiled, looking at Dean.

“Of course, sweetheart.” Dean drawled, winking at you. You didn’t care if you didn’t like Dean in that way or not, he could always make you blush with that damn wink of his.

“Let me know if you find anything interesting.” Cas said, walking off to another part of the Bunker. You sighed and moved off Dean and back to your own chair.

“I don’t think this is going to work. Did you just see that? He didn’t care one bit.” You frowned.

“Were you seeing what I saw? His shoulders tensed and so did his jaw. He questioned where you were sitting. Look, I know a lot about this stuff and that right there, was a jealous man. Trust me on this. It is going to work.”

“Fine, so what now?”

“Let’s so him what a good time really is. You still have the stuff to bake a pie, right?” He asked, standing up.

“Yeah, why?”

“Let’s bake a pie. Come on.” Dean grabbed your hand and you nodded. This wasn’t going to work if you weren’t going to put 110% in this. You followed Dean to the kitchen motioned for you to get the stuff. While you did that, he set his phone up to the Bluetooth speakers that you had Sam install in the kitchen.

Leave it to Dean to play rock music but you didn’t care. You set everything out and looked at Dean with a grin. You were going to have a lot of fun doing this. As soon as the music started playing, you started dancing. You liked rock music all your life and that was one thing you had in common with Dean.

He laughed and grabbed your hand, pulling you to him. He placed you in front of him and leaned down to whisper in your ear.

“Just be natural. Be loose and I will take care of the rest.” You nodded, listening to him and trusting him. You started singing along to the song as you started making the crust from scratch. Dean was behind you, his arms around you and helping you from behind.

Faking or not, this was fun. You kneaded the dough in your hands with the help of Dean and he added a few more pinches of flour on the counter so that the dough wouldn’t stick. But instead of going back to the dough, he reached up and covered your face with the four on his hand.

You squealed and tried to get out of his grip.

“Dean Winchester, you did not!” You gasped, staring at him. He looked at you and started laughing his ass off. Oh, it was on.

“What are you going to do about it?” He grinned.

“Fine, you want it that way? You’re going to get it that way.” You rushed to the bowl of flour but you weren’t quick enough. Dean shot his hand out to move it away from you but ended up knocking it away, making the flour spill everywhere; including on you and Dean.

You busted out laughing, along with Dean, not noticing the figure standing under the door frame.

“What is going on in here?” You looked and saw Cas with a hard look on his face. You turned off the music and looked at Dean, silently asking for help.

“Relax, Cas, we’re just having fun.” Dean said, smirking.

“Y/N, would you like to come with me somewhere?” Cas asked, trying to get you away from Dean and with him instead. You looked at Dean who gave you a look. You were supposed to trust Dean and you did.

“Sorry, Cas, I’m hanging with Dean.” You said, looking back at Cas.

“Yeah, Cas, you’re welcome to join us but I don’t want to make you too uncomfortable. Baking isn’t the only thing we will be doing.” Dean smirked, putting an arm around you, keeping it low on your waist.

“I didn’t realize that you two were together.” Cas said, seeming sad.

“Yeah, that’s what happens when I like someone. I go for it and not ignore her.” Dean said, accusing Cas without Cas knowing it.

“Okay, I am going to get cleaned up. When I get back, this better be clean. You don’t want to get on my bad side.” You said to Dean, leaning up and kissing his cheek. As you were walking away, you gave him a certain look before disappearing.

“Dean, you know I like her. I didn’t think you would do this.” Cas said. You stood by the door, unseen by the men.

“Then why aren’t you with her, man? She’s been trying so hard to get with you but you’re ignoring her. So, I had to take matters into my own hands.” Dean responded. You bit your lip and left your post, not wanting to hear this conversation.

You walked to your room and immediately stripped yourself of your clothing. You put on a fresh outfit, cleaning your face. You made sure that you were free of any flour before leaving your room. You were looking down so you felt him before you saw him.

You bumped into a hard wall of muscle, losing your balance. You fell back, expecting to hit the ground but two strong arms caught you before that could happen. You looked up into the blue eyes you loved so much.

“Cas, thank you.” You regained your stance but he didn’t let go of you.

“Y/N, I have to tell you something but please, don’t say anything until I finish.” Cas said, worry swirled his eyes. You nodded, keeping your mouth shut and letting him say what he had to say. You didn’t know what Dean said to him in the kitchen but you hoped it was good.

“Y/N, I am deeply sorry for not seeing what was right in front of me. I ignored your attempts to get me to go out with you. I don’t exactly know what I am feeling at the moment but I know it’s good. I know that I like you and I want to spend as much time as I can with you. Seeing you with Dean, made me feel something. Almost like I was mad at myself for letting you go.” Castiel was rambling but you heard enough.

You leaned up and pressed your lips to his, taking the lead for once. You wrapped your arms around his neck and played with the hairs on the base of his neck. He tightened his grip on your waist and pulled you closer, kissing you back. You knew he knew how to kiss but damn, he was good at it.

You pulled away and looked up at his blue eyes.

“I will help you with what you’re feeling. I just didn’t know it would take me using Dean to get through to you. But I’m glad it worked. Honestly.” You smiled widely.

“Please, keep smiling. It looks really good on you.” Cas said. You leaned back and kissed him passionately, letting him know that you were going to be with him for a long time. You didn’t want to let him go and he didn’t want to let you go.

You pulled away and stepped back from him.

“I love that you figured it out but I did promise Dean I would make him a pie. So how about, after I finished with that, I will come find you and we can work on those feelings you have. And more.” You grinned, winking at him.

“I’d like that.” Cas said with a smile. You nodded and walked away from him, the smile never leaving your face.

Thank you, Dean Winchester.

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[ritualis]

(May 22 2024) flour scattered around the kitchen

[ritualis]

(May 22 2024) flour scattered across the kitchen

[ritualis]

you know sometimes you fall in love again and this time it's the one, you even get married, and you're happy and doing great and accepting your old heartbreaks and yourself for the first time

then they die

and at that point you become a little jaded and tired, and you also don't know how to do it anymore. you don't remember how to date because for years you just were with her.

and then all the heartbreaks from over the years come back because you can't let go of things you love and you don't know if it's worth trying again. you don't know if you can find someone you can be with who is like you.

and it's been four years since you lost her.

and it took you two years to be with anyone else.

and you don't take the ring off unless you have to.

and you see her in three of your daughters every day. and you try to love them as much as you can but it's just so empty inside you now.

[ritualis]

god I miss my wife

[ritualis]

Flour,

did I ever tell you how you were the light of my life?

did I ever remember to take you dancing? no

would you have been happier if I hadn't been like I was?

did I ever let you in to see the tears in my eyes when I smiled at the mention of our daughters?

could it have been different if we weren't ghosts living in bodies we didn't belong to,

separated by rivers, mountains, forests and plains;

connected only through pixels and letters.

but what a connection it was.

and I only wish I could've been better for you while it lasted but I-

-I didn't know how quick it would end.