#the amount of sorting and rearranging it takes... ow my brain

[choatic-bumblebee-agenda]

the conses... they be quencing... who could have foreseen this <- promised to write and now has to actually write

[coulson-is-an-avenger]

50 or 33 with jmart for the smooch prompt list :mimhonk.emoji:

#33 - An unexpected kiss that shocks the one receiving it, and #50 - A kiss, followed by more that trail down the jaw and neck. POR QUÉ NO LOS DOS!

thank you tem!!! :D I had a lot of fun with this one, and because of that it also got Long As Fuck so bear with me on that. Set in the safehouse also! Hope you enjoy ^_^

It’s been a very, very good day at the safehouse. The Lonely has been quiet, lurking almost entirely out of sight rather than clinging onto the both of them, and Martin’s been relaxed and open, happy in a way Jon hasn’t honestly seen him in months. The Eye has been quiet as well, and even Jon’s pain levels have been down today - no small miracle given the chilly weather - and it feels like a day for new beginnings, a day for truths.

So, “I missed you,” is what tumbles out over dinner, over beans and soup and tea.

Jon hears Martin’s breath catch before he sees it, before he looks up to see the stunned smile that takes over his face. “I missed you too,” he replies softly, and Jon pretends not to hear the crack in his voice where the unused muscle of emotion splits the air.

Jon holds his gaze for an admirable amount of time, but even he wavers. He’s never been a brave man, and he looks down at the table before speaking. “There were spiders, while you were gone,” Jon begins, tracing a finger along the grain of the table. “God, I really should have gotten more in the business of squishing them.”

“Yeah?” Martin offers, encouraging. The anecdote feels clumsy, foolish, but Martin is laying a hand across the table to show his patience, and Jon is grateful.

“I never quite could make myself do it though, I guess I just-” He trails off, starts a new thread of the story. “They always made me think of you, in a way. You always cared so much about all the little things. Always insisted on carrying them out. Dreadful things that still deserved kindness in your eyes.” Like me, he doesn’t add. “I always admired that about you. So I didn’t squish them as much.” He finishes clumsily, glancing up with a flash of his eyes before looking down at the table again to pick at the grain of the wood.

Martin blinks at him. Stares at him in silence for what Jon can only assume is an eternity, until he has to look up and make sure he’s still there. And then Martin stands, tea forgotten, maneuvers himself around the table, and darts in and presses his lips to Jon’s.

It only lasts for a moment - half a heartbeat of a touch - but it’s warm and vulnerable and a bit awkward and it sends Jon’s eyes flying wide open in shock.

Martin pulls back just as quickly as he had dived in, retreating so fast he bumps into the nearby counter, his eyes widening, and the first thing out of his mouth is “Oh, shit.”

Jon can’t blame him, he’s utterly dumbstruck himself. His head feels pleasantly fuzzy, but confusion swims up to trump every other emotion until the only thing he’s able to push out of his lungs is; “I- excuse me?”

Martin blinks, his panic floundering in confusion. “I- sorry, excuse you for what?”

Jon’s brows furrow together as he tries to piece his thoughts together. “You... don’t,” he says like it’s obvious, and then hesitates. “I-I mean, you- you said... you did, but not... so why-” Jon looks hopelessly out of his depth as he gestures, not making sense. “Why did you do that?”

Martin stares, the tips of his ears burning dark red. “I don’t what, Jon?”

Jon curls in on himself, shame bubbling to the surface. What has he gotten wrong? What has he missed? “I-in the Lonely. You said you loved me.”

Martin’s breath hitches at his own words repeated back at him - words he doesn’t even remember saying. The fog had been so intense, so much and yet so pointless all at once, it had been so hard to keep anything straight, to hold down any memory or emotion. He hardly remembers saying those words, but they draw a wobbly smile out of him anyways. He supposes it makes sense that he would say them, though. Not much could cut through the fog, but Jon did. Jon always did. He still does.

“Did I? I didn’t know I had it in me to share.”

Jon shakes his head, now looking frustrated. “But you didn’t.” He insists. “You don’t... that means you don’t anymore.” His expression stalls for a second, before something akin to horror blooms on his face, and he scrambles to his feet to face him. “Martin, if you think- God, if you think you somehow owe me this after all that, let me be abundantly cl-”

“No!! No, no.” Martin cuts in, sensing Jon’s building distress and moving away from the counter to rest a hand on his shoulder. “No,” he repeats, softer. He takes a deep breath and lets himself run his thumb over the fabric of Jon’s sweater. “I don’t think I owe you. Not in that way. Christ, of course not.”

Jon is silent for several long minutes, before his voice begins working again, and he stutters back into a sentence. “O-okay. Okay. Good.” He clears his throat. “Then why-? I-I-I thought-” He gathers up what brain power he has left to sort his thoughts. Something like hope tinges his voice, and Martin marvels at how deeply Jon seems to have resigned himself to this truth, while still being eager to save his life and run away with him all the way to Scotland. Love is a funny thing. When he speaks again, his voice is so, so quiet. “After the Unknowing, I thought I lost my chance. Thought you’d moved on. N-not that I would have blamed you, I just- but you-”

“Jon,” Martin says softly, ducking his head to catch his eyes. “I wasn’t quite myself in the Lonely. I didn’t mean that as an ending.” He breaks his gaze away, looks down at his own hand on Jon’s shoulder. “I was mourning something I thought I’d lost.”

“Oh,” The word escapes Jon’s lungs in a rush; several years worth of longing filling up his chest and squeezing his throat like smoke, making his eyes sting. “Oh, I’m sorry-”

“No, no,” Martin shakes his head. “That’s over now.”

Jon presses a hand to his eyes, breathing, letting everything settle in.

“Well. That certainly makes me feel foolish.”

Martin laughs, a free, wonderful sound that fills the air with electricity and warms Jon down to his bones. He realizes he’s staring at him, watching how his shoulders move with adoration, watching the joy radiate from him with nothing short of beauty. A moment of insane courage passes through Jon, and he moves his hand to cover the one Martin still has resting on his shoulder.

He steps closer. “Do you want this then? The way that I do?” His voice is eager, and he’s afraid to breathe.

Martin’s expression absolutely melts, and he sways closer. He Saw Jon in the Lonely, in all his hopeless lovestruck worry, so he knows what he means. “Yes,” he answers. “More than anything. I don’t-” he makes a pained face, and looks down, prepares himself for the undressing that comes before the acceptance of love. “I don’t know how okay I am. Don’t know how much of me is still me after everything with Lukas and- and well, everything, but...”

“I know what you mean,” Jon assures him, running his thumbs over his knuckles. “I’m not even human anymore.” He exhales, in the tone of a joke fallen flat.

Martin squeezes his shoulder. “Exactly,” he murmurs. “But I still want to try.”

“Martin,” Jon exhales, his voice thick and his eyes wet. “I’m so glad to hear that.”

Martin tugs Jon’s hand from where it’s resting atop his to press a kiss to his knuckles, and Jon laughs, a quiet little sound, and then he’s moving, leaning back into Martin’s space; his face growing blurry as he gets up close and presses their lips together again. He misses the mark just a bit, the kiss landing a little too high on his mouth, but Martin leans up into it, rearranging their positions, and just like that it’s perfect. Not earth-shattering, not magical, just perfect, in the way that only imperfection can be. Martin lets himself sink into it.

It’s gentle, sweet, and it makes Martin’s head buzz with disbelief. He breaks away to breathe, for a moment, just to wrap his head around what’s happening, and then Jon is tugging him back in, more intentionally this time.

Jon kisses very thoroughly, Martin soon learns with amusement. He furrows his brow and crowds himself into Martin’s space, curling his hands in his shirt, and he moves his mouth in time with Martin’s like he has a purpose to follow, like he’s devoting himself to studying him; focusing on each touch with crystal clarity. He has a single-minded doggedness about the whole thing, and Martin eventually relaxes and just lets himself be kissed, following along with gentle touches and barely held-back smiles.

He raises a hand experimentally to run through his hair, and Jon kisses him deeper in response; open mouthed and wanting, tasting what he can, allowing himself to bite his lip gently. That takes the breath straight out of Martin’s lungs, and the bitten-off sound he makes apparently encourages Jon even more, as he breaks away and kisses him down across his jaw, under his chin, and down the side of his throat.

It’s frantic at first, a desperate attempt to map out as much of Martin as he can in the time he has, but the sense of urgency starts to bleed out of him, and he ends up kissing gentler and gentler the longer he lingers, until eventually Jon’s just nuzzling his nose into his skin and wrapping his arms around him for a hug. The sigh that escapes him makes Martin’s heart clench.

“I love you,” he mumbles into Martin’s shoulder, and later the weight of this will settle on their shoulders. Later they will have to sit down and figure this out, this mess of personalities and supernatural entanglement, this terrible future of fear laid out before them, and the path forward they will choose to carve out together. But for now they can sink into this embrace and breathe.

Martin doesn’t say the words back, he’s not quite there yet, but he doesn’t need to. It’s enough, it’s more than enough to just be here, for Martin to press his nose into Jon’s hair, and smile until his face aches from it.

[yandere-wishes]

🐚Smooth Criminal //Yandere! Gangster! Floyd Leech X Reader//🐚

My first Gangster AU! This is most likely going to end up being a series for each of the different boys! SO please tell me what you thought!

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So, Annie are you ok, are you ok Annie?

the bar bristled with the loud shouts of its patrons. Each table housing at least a dozen members from the same group, all glaring at those from rival gangs. Guns sat, leaned against their master's legs, like school backs at a highschool cafeteria. maybe it was the dim, cheap lights, or the distracted rivalry stares. But by some freak miracle, no one noticed you enter the Jackson. This wasn't a place for a dame such as yourself, a pretty girl who lacked status, a weapon, and even a comrade to have their back. Just a doll-like face and a very obvious briefcase.

Even you were conscious of the fact that you stuck out like a rose in the middle of a field filled with weeds. At any moment one of these goons could turn around and grab you, slam your head on one of the wooden tables till your brains spilled out than claim the loot for themselves, no consciences faced.

Naturally, you wouldn't be here had it not been for your dear uncle Crowley, who had very recently gambled away the equivalent of a small fortune in the underground casino of the infamous Mostro Lounge. Well technically the cousin was only partly owned by the Octavinelle gang, most of the games and funds went to their brother gang of Ignihyde. But for some reason it had been one of the Octavinelle members to come after your uncle, breaking down the door to his house and threatening him with punches and verbal insults. Your "poor" uncle had promised to get him the money, it took about two loans on his house, a few hundred borrowed from his close friends and a lot of support from your own father until he was able to gather the needed amount. But that had left one tiny problem, your sweet uncle had been so shaken up from his last encounter that he had all but begged his only niece to deliver the money for him.

"It's very simple, sweetheart, you just go to the Jackson and give this briefcase to the man with teal hair and anisocoria eyes. I would never make you do something difficult dear, I'm too kind"

Yeah right "too kind"  was an exaggeration, heck nice wasn't any better. Your uncle was a useless old fool. Then again where you any better? You'd just marched into the most mobster ridden bar in all of this godforsaken city. With nothing more than a white circular dress and a briefcase with your uncle's initials engraved in it. You took a shaky breath before scanning the room, trying to find the man your uncle had described. Teal hair and anisocoria eyes, wearing the signature black and purple of the  Octavinelle gang.

A glance around confirmed that there where members from each of the Twisted Seven here. The twisted seven where the infamous gangs of New NightRaven City. Each gang was started sometime before even their current leaders where born. The original leaders had gone down as the pioneers of turning New NightRaven City into a gangsters paradise. Somehow the leadership roles had trickled down to the current seven, mostly through heritage. The history of the Twisted Seven was thought in schools all over the city more vigorously than actual world history. Up to this day, you weren't quite sure how or why the first world war had started but you could name every leader for each group in chronological order.

In the far back of the bustling room, you noticed an abnormality. One guy was sitting by himself at a four-person booth. A half-empty coke rocks glaring back at him. Your eyes widened, that was him! It had to be! Turquoise locks peaked out from under his black hat. For a split second his head turned, his eyes looking about unseeingly. That's when you noticed his eyes. One was vibrant gold, while the other borders on an olive-like green, both orbs, however, seemed to shine with a sort of mischievous glow.

Swallowing down a sense of foreboding deep in your soul, you gradually strolled over to the man. He didn't seem to notice you until you had rearranged into the seat before him. When his eyes met yours, his lips maneuvered into an open-mouth grin showing heaps of razor-sharp teeth. "OoO~ Who might you be little shrimp-chan?" His voice didn't seem able to hold a steady tone, vocals switching between high and low better every word, making the man appear all the more deranged. You sucked in a nervous breath. Under the table you squeezed your knees together, focusing on how the kneecaps pressured each other.

"Um..I'm (y/n), my uncle owed the Octavinelle some money and..."

"Oh so your here to pay off his debt?" He leaned in closer, tongue flickering out to run across his lips. His mismatched eyes scanned you up and down, lingering just a little too long on your chest. Quickly you made slung your arm over your over breasts, trying to muster up a glare to shoot at the audacious male. 

"N-not like that" You pulled up the briefcase, pummeling it down on the table with a noisy "thud".  "He has the money, he owned you. All ten thousand dollars." 

Around the two of you, people became to stare, all pulling out their cells, no undoubtedly to inform their superiors about the transaction going down in plain view. The gangster in front of you, slowly trailed his gaze around the room, shooting challenged to meet his eyes. "Are you sure you aren't the payment? You're pretty, could round up a bunch of customers for the Lounge~ Oh maybe we could even loan you out to customers that way it would only take seven months to repay your uncle's debt--"

It was pure impulse on your part, rage had taken over your body. Your hand moved on its own, stretching out for the halve empty coke glass, carrying your body with itself. Your fingers wrapped sufficiently tight around the cup. Tugging it towards yourself, before tilting it and spilling its liquid contents in the face of the man in front of you. It took a moment for the events to fully process in either of your heads. Angry breaths left your mouth before you stood up and marched over to the door. Shouting one last cruse at the mobster before slamming the door behind you.

Back at the booth, Floyd had finally realized what had happened. His shoulders began to vibrate uncontrollably. A sadistic bloodthirsty laugh falling from his lips. His eyes lifted to where you had been moments priory a sort of childlike greed shining inside his orbs. "Shrimp-chan~" he cooed to the empty space.

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Sam pulled the yellow tape over his head, contracting his back so he could duke under it. In front of the building, he noticed a man with a red trench coat surrounded by five other police officers. The man must have been in his late 40's maybe even mid 50's. Sam let out a haughty breathy laugh. This was his new partner? The younger man jogged up to the small group. "Detective Trein I presume?" Sam was met by a harsh glare from the older man. "you're the rookie?" disapproval clear in every word. Ouch.

"You bet I am sir," Sam made a gesture akin to tilting a top hat as he bowed slightly. "Sam, reporting for duty". "What no last name?" "No Sir, just my mother given name, a nice one too I might add." Sam kept his eyes lowered but he could practically feel the way his new partner rolled his grey eyes. "Fine than Sam, follow me I trust you shouldn't find this case too hard. It's a simple kidnapping case. Nothing too elaborate for your young mind." Man, this guy really was a prick.

For as far as Sam could see this really was just an everyday kidnapping. All signs pointed towards just that. "If you would direct your attention to the window." Sam jumped from his thoughts. He quickly jogged up to where Trein was standing by a broken window. "The invader came in from here, most likely he climbed up the fire escape. Where guessing he had a knife on him or some other sharp object." Sam smiled, how had the old man gotten all that from an open window?

The second you left the bar, you had run all the way back to your apartment. The second you had gotten home you locked the doors and made a quick call to your uncle. As usual, he was "busy" doing whatever it was he did. Leaving a fast paced voicemail explaining that you had given the mobster his money and that you were home now. Leaving out the section you had caused. It was over finally the whole nightmare was over. your eyes darted to the old clock on your wall 9:15 pm late enough for dinner. Making your way to the kitchen, you forgot to notice that you had in fact left the window closest to the fire escape wide open. 

"Bang!"

The noise reverberated across the cramped apartment. Causing you to jump out of your thoughts. Anxiously you snatched a kitchen blade as you gradually strolled again into the front room. Your brain continued replaying the occasions of that night. It must be the Octavinelle, they had sought you out! All things considered, you had embarrassed one of their members. When you finally made it to the living room, you were both surprised and relieved. There weren't a hundred armed goons flooding your apartment with guns ready to shoot you on sight. Instead, it had been the man from earlier, casually standing by the window, whistling some tune that was eerie familiar. 

It took a moment before the man noticed you. His whistling stopped and was instead replaced with a shark-like smile. "HI~ little shrimp! I forgot to introduce myself earlier~ Name's Floyd what's yours darling?" Nervously you stepped back, knife clenched tightly to your chest. 

"G-Get away from me!"

"How do you know the man was armed? Heck, how do you know he was a guy?" Sam asked. Trein let out an annoyed huff. "Seriously do you know nothing? Well, I guess you are rather new to this." The grey-haired man turned to his younger partner. Sam swear for a moment he caught a glimpse of what may have been considered a "father instinct" although never having had a father, he could have been completely wrong. "When you've been in this profession as long as I have, you pick up on. There are small differences that become obvious once you've cracked your first ten cases. Notice the blood on the carpet, and realize how 40 mm away there is a smaller bloodstain, only this one has been pressured into the carpet, due to its crescent-like scape we can confidently deduce that it was made by a heel. And look closely at the carpet starts, look at how they seem to be red from the roots and middle, not just the tips. All that point to our invader having stepped in the first blood pool than having made the second engraving with the heel of his shoe as he chased the victim." Sam's eyes widen, maybe the old man wasn't just a jerk, after all, maybe he knew a thing or two.

"Is that any way to treat a guest little shrimp?~" His eyes locked with yours, freezing you in your spot like a dear in headlights. Noticing your dumbfounded form he ran forward prying the knife from your weak grip. A scream filled the air, it took you a second to realize it had come from you. When your eyes went back to your offenders face you could see how his lips were pointed downwards a deathly glare coating his eyes. 

The next moment his fingers made contact with your cheek, you swore you could hear a crescendo, your body felt heavy your head started spinning, for some reason the ground was getting closer and closer until you felt your body crash into the carpet. Your left cheek stung, as well as feeling like it was on fire. as you laid on the floor you watched as something red slipped onto the carpet. Something thick and red. "Oh, shrimpy you look so pretty when you bleed." 

Trein made his way to the kitchen, flicking a switch the moment he passed the threshold. A single light overhead flickered to life. "Kinda cramped for a kitchen ain't it?" Sam asked as he peeked over Trein shoulder. The older man ignored his partner's comment, wordlessly he pointed to the table in at the far left-hand side. Sam's red eyes followed the man's finger, Dead center there was a large kitchen knife ended in the old-looking wooden table. "Usually women are more calculating when they performed a kidnapping. Men are the ones that go ramped like wild beasts." Sam nodded his head absentmindedly. The young investigator made a mental note to never be as obvious if he ever did decide to kidnap someone.

"Oh~ that's so pretty." You had only known "Floyd" for a little over an hour, that including your rather unpleasant meaning back at the Jackson. But already you could tell just how short the man's attention span was. Slowly you shimmed your body from the ground, the mobster didn't seem to have noticed. The second your legs passed the kitchen's threshold you flicked the light, engulfing the tiny cooking space in total darkness. You made a swift sprint for the table, crunching under it. Your breath refused to leave your mouth, heart pounded with such force you were certain it would break the bones of your rib cage. In the distance, his loud footsteps could be heard. Closer and closer and closer. You didn't dare open your eyes, but you kept your ears open, trying to pick up any lose noises he might make.

1 heartbeat 

2 heartbeats

3 heartbeats

Nothing. There was no more noise to be heard, slowly your eyes cracked open, a tiny fragile breath escaped your mouth, right before a sharp noise echoed above head. Floyd's twisted head came into view that damned smirk still on his lips. Another scream, this time you knew it was coming from you. The teal haired man reached to grab the collar of your shirt, pulling you forward. You kicked and thrashed about as the gangster such laughter. Really how sick was this man? Finally, with one last kick, you freed yourself, Floyd fell backward clutching his stomach mutter some profanity you'd never heard before. Quickly you made a dash for your room. Locking the door behind you.

"And this is the last destination of our tour," Trein said as he made a sweeping gesture with his hand. Sam was almost certain he heard a hint of humor in the old man's tone. "What happened here?" The rookie asked. "Why Sam! I thought you where a detective, can't you deduce this simple problem?" Definitely humor. Sam quickly scanned the room. 'Um, he dragged her into the room, locking the door behind them. Then broke the window preparing to escape. But then a third party broke the door down, trying to save the girl. Before the third party could intervene it's likely that the man pulled her through the window and killed her behind some ally." Trein only nodded, following along with the boy's story. "Well Sam you sure have an active imagination, but it's most likely that this is what happened..."

You could hear the pounding on your door, slowly you backed away heading for your nightstand, aimlessly you tried to locate your phone. Until you remembered that you had left it on the couch. "Dang it" Your eyes scanned the room nervously trying to find something helpful, anything!

BANG

pieces of wood flew around the room, you brought your hands up to shield your face, only to have them pulled downwards. Your eyes looked upwards, instantly locking with Floyd's "Found you~" he sang. In the midst of the chaos, Floyd smashed his lips yo yours, they were unpleasant, chapped, and salty. You tried pushing him away but to no avail.   Gradually he broke the kiss, pushing his forehead to yours. Before slinging you over his shoulder and ramming full force into the window in your room. Crashing the glass and escaping into the night with you. It was at that moment that you knew that this was your doom!

"That's the more likely explanation for what happened," Trein explained as he made is way back to the front door. "Well even if it isn't it's more then convincing for a field report and a good enough explanation to give the press". A confused look twisted over Sam's face "How do you know he didn't kill her?" The black-haired boy asked. Trein just laughed and waved a wrinkled hand dismissively. "Call it a hunch" He yelled behind his shoulder.

And what a hunch! Just as the old detective predicted you were very much alive. Just now awaking and opening your (e/c) eyes to gaze into the mismatched ones of Floyd Leech's.

You’ve been hit by a smooth criminal

[inawickedlittletown]

Baked With Love (Destiel fic) - 4/5

Summary: Dean never met Lisa’s neighbor, but he knew one thing: whoever it was, they could bake. After breaking up with Lisa, the one thing Dean misses is her neighbor’s pie. After finally meeting him, Cas’ pie is not the only thing Dean likes.

On Ao3

Part one 

Part two

Part three

-

Castiel was so busy getting the bakery ready for the grand opening once the remodel was done, that Dean barely saw him over the next few weeks unless it was to help him around Angel Bakes. Cas had even stopped baking on Fridays even if that meant that he wasn’t taking anything over to the soup kitchen and shelter. Cas also still had his job to go to in the meanwhile. Every time that Dean saw him, the dark circles under his eyes grew and grew and he looked so stressed that Dean thought he’d even started to lose weight. 

On a Saturday, when Dean hadn’t gotten a response from Cas about getting breakfast, Dean drove straight to Angel Bakes. He found Castiel there at the back entrance where he seemed to be in the middle of carrying a heavy looking box inside. Dean rushed and grabbed the other end of the box to lighten the load. 

“Hey, Cas,” Dean said. 

“Dean! What are you doing here?” 

“Coming to check on you, honestly,” Dean said as they set the box down on a counter. “How’s it going here?” 

“I’m just getting everything together. It’s been so much, Dean. I’m starting with all the pans and stuff I’ll need but I’ve been looking at suppliers and there’s just so much to order and to figure out. And I have to start getting a menu ready. It’s been a lot.” 

“And why didn’t you ask for help?” Dean asked. “I told you I’d be happy to.” 

Cas looked down to his feet. “You’ve done so much already,” he said at last. “Too much. And Lisa said...well, she said that I was monopolizing your time and then I realized that of course I was and of course there are other things you’d want to be doing. This isn’t — the bakery isn’t your dream. As much as I love the push you gave me, I shouldn’t be relying on you like this. It isn’t fair, not when there’s other things you should be doing.”

Dean stepped closer and he grabbed Cas’ wrist. “I am not the kind of person that does anything without fully wanting to do it. Do you realize, Cas, that you’re sort of my best friend? That I love spending time with you and that I like to help you?” 

“Oh,” Cas said and his smile was so bright when he looked at Dean again. “You’re my best friend too.” 

Dean wanted him to be more, but it was enough for the moment, especially when he got a close look at Cas and realized that what Castiel really needed was to stop worrying and stop stressing. 

“And as your best friend, I think it’s time for a break.”

Cas immediately started to protest and to point at all the things he’d planned on doing for the day. 

“Look, we can get a little of that done, but then after that we are going out to get some food and then I’ll take you somewhere where you can have a little peace.”

“Dean, I have two weeks until opening day. I can’t afford to just take off like this—”

“If you don’t, opening day will be here and you’ll be so run down you won’t even enjoy it. You don’t have to do this alone. I’ll be here and I’ll get Sam to come help too and I’m sure if you ask Lisa she’ll help. And your cousin, what was his name? Gabriel. You bake enough for him that he owes you.”

He must have been feeling tired, because Castiel relented without arguing and so after Dean helped bring in the rest of the boxes from Cas’ car, Dean made Cas get into the Impala and then drove him to The Roadhouse for an early lunch. 

The thing about spending time with Cas was that it was the easiest thing in the world. It was easier than any of the time he’d spent dating Lisa and better than spending time with Sam who, as a little brother, just tended to get annoying after a while. With Cas, Dean lost track of time. He forgot about everything else and lived in the moment they were sharing even when Cas brought the conversation back to the bakery and all the work that he still needed to do and Dean had to talk him down into relaxing. 

“Don’t think about it today just for a few hours, Cas. How are your bees?” 

Castiel jumped into the topic, telling Dean all about how he thought he might get to harvest some honey in the next week or so since a few of the frames looked like they were getting quite full. 

Dean didn’t know much about bees or beekeeping, but Castiel got excited when he talked about it and the way he explained everything made it easy for Dean to follow and even when he didn’t, he just liked to hear Cas talk. 

By the time that they left The Roadhouse, Cas did look more relaxed. He didn’t ask Dean where he was taking him, but he looked curious as they drove. Their drive was silent, broken only by Led Zeppelin playing low from the radio. 

—

When Dean was growing up, like most teenagers he hadn’t looked eye to eye on much with his parents. He’d hated the way that his mother pushed the idea that he had to go to college to amount to anything, or how his father had resigned himself to be disappointed in Dean. They thought that Dean didn’t take anything too seriously, that he spent too much time chasing tail, and that he was a bad influence on Sam. 

So, Dean resolved to spend as much time away from their house and when his dad passed on the Impala to him, he had the freedom to really go places. It was how he’d found the spot by the lake. 

Dean had spent a lot of nights sitting on the hood of his car watching the stars there. He’d gone there to make hard decisions, or when life got hard and he just needed a place to go. It was not a place he had shared with anyone. Not Sammy. Not his mom. Not his dad. Not Cassie. Not Lisa. And it wasn’t like the spot was hard to get to or a secret, it was just that Dean had never told anyone that it was a place where he went. Cas was different and the number one thing that made him different was that while any of the others would understand why Dean went there or even appreciate the peace and quiet or how little light pollution existed there, they wouldn’t get it. Not like Castiel would. 

“It’s nice out here,” Cas said when he got out of the car. 

“I come here to think,” Dean said. “Whenever everything feels like too much. It’s peaceful and then there is just this. Nature, the water, how it isn’t quiet, but my brain can be quiet.” 

Castiel stared at him for a long time. He barely even blinked. 

“That’s…you feel like you need that?”

Dean didn’t really talk about his feelings much. He didn’t talk about his fears or his insecurities or just how overwhelming it really was to be an adult. Dean had grown up fast after his dad died. After Cassie, he’d spent so much time there on that spot trying to figure out why he hadn’t been enough. It wasn’t until years later that Dean came to realize that he and Cassie had both loved each other but not enough for either of them to fully open up or fully be what the other needed. He hadn’t shared his spot with her or many other things and maybe it had been their downfall. 

“Everyone needs to take a breath sometimes, Cas.”

“Thank you,” Castiel said.

They had walked to the front of the car and Dean motioned for him to get on the hood. They sat side by side up there. 

“I don’t know why you bother,” Castiel said after they had watched a few birds flutter about near the trees. 

“Bother with what?”

“Me.”

“Cas, you can’t—“

“Like I guess I understand because I keep making you pies, but I haven’t even been baking lately and I’m trying to, you know, handle things and yet you’re still helping me and you came today and…”

Dean had to lean over and physically put a hand over Cas’ mouth.

“We’re friends for one thing,” Dean said. “We went over that already, haven’t we? But, Cas, I’m not just bothering with you. I’m…I enjoy spending time with you. I look forward to it any time we have plans and I miss you when we don’t. I love our conversations, but even just sitting there watching you bake is enough.”

Castiel was at a loss for words, but his cheeks had gone that lovely pink again. Dean wanted nothing more than to lean over and kiss him. He just didn’t know if it was something that Cas would want. His blush said a lot, but there was also just so much else on Cas’ shoulders and Dean didn’t want to add to that. 

“Thank you, Dean,” Cas said and he was the one that pulled Dean into a tight embrace. 

It was kinda awkward because they were on the hood of his car and so it was more like Cas was lying on him and just holding on, but Dean wrapped his arms around Cas back and Cas’ head was somehow tucked into the crook of his neck. It was as if they had been made to fit together. 

“Tell me something,” Cas said eventually, pulling back enough so that he could look at Dean. 

Dean rearranged them. He sat up a little and pulled Cas into his side, marveling just a little at how electric it felt to touch Cas, but also how physical contact had never been easier. 

“Like what?” 

“Anything. Whatever you want to tell me.”

So, he told Cas about all the weird myths and things that he’d been really into when he was younger. About how Dean had at one point been convinced that werewolves and ghosts and vampires, and shapeshifters were real. Cas chuckled as Dean explained the lore and the legends. They shared a look and Dean knew that Cas understood why Dean had been so into his grandfather’s books. Then, Dean told him other things. He told him about how it was his dad that had started teaching him how to fix cars, and how it was one of the few things that Dean had held on to after his dad was gone. 

“We didn’t get along all the time,” Dean said. “But when we were fixing up Baby or one of the other cars, that’s when I felt like I knew him best.”

He told Cas about his mom too. 

“She baked sometimes, but the only thing she could really nail was pie and to be honest it was store bought crust. But it was amazing. Best pie I ever ate before yours.”

In reality, Dean knew that his mom’s pie hadn’t been anything truly amazing. It was that she made it and that she made it for Dean. The memory of it. He didn’t tell Cas about how often his parents fought or how sometimes it was him getting them to stop or consoling his mom when his dad took off. Or how once Dean had seen a few things in the garage that suggested his dad might have cheated on his mom. 

He did tell Cas about the time that Sam ran away. How worried he was and how when he returned and their dad was still screaming and yelling not just at Sam but at Dean as well, Dean had only wanted to hug Sam and he didn’t care that his dad blamed him because Sam was okay. 

“Kid came back with a dog. Bones. My mom made our dad let us keep him but somehow I was the one that ended up taking Bones out on walks all the time.”

Not that Dean had really minded. Bones had come with Dean out to the spot a few times. For all that Dean had complained when they first took the dog in, he’d become a companion for a time. 

Dean kept a steady stream of conversation. He told Cas about working with Bobby and how he’d come to half own Singer Auto and a little bit about him and Lisa. How he met her at a bar and how quickly Dean had found himself dating her. 

“I saw you once,” Cas said, speaking for the first time. “You and Lisa were out in her yard and I saw you. You looked happy.”

“Lisa’s nice,” Dean said. “And it was nice to be with her but there was something missing. We’re better as friends. I think we were both just lonely.” 

“I see,” Cas said. Then, “I’d like to meet your brother.”

“He wants to meet you too,” Dean said. 

It was important that Sam and Castiel got along. Dean expected they would.  

“You’ve told him about me?” Cas asked. 

Dean laughed. “Did I rave about your pie nonstop to anyone that would listen? Yes, Cas, I did. And not just that…you’re an impressive guy. I am amazed by you.”

“You are…Dean, come on, I’m nothing special.”

Dean scoffed. “Cas, you are the only person I know who has bees in his backyard. You bake and give away freshly baked goods to shelters and soup kitchens. You have a dream and you’re making it happen.”

“And it’s only happening because of you,” Castiel said. “Really, Dean, that money would have sat in the bank and I wouldn’t have done any of this, but you...you made it possible. If anyone is amazed by anyone here, it should be me. And today...you brought me here. Dean, it’s like you know just what I need.”

-

Part Five

[asreoninfusion]

Sugar Rush [2/??]

Part 1

Aerith’s OP bullshit comes to a head.  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Cloud gets a date.

Maybe it was rude to stare so much, but Cloud couldn’t help it. He was still in a state of shock, like he couldn’t quite believe his eyes as he watched the very pretty, pink-clad young woman fussing around in his barracks dorm.

She’d just walked straight in there. No one had even noticed. Aerith had walked beside Cloud the entire journey through the ShinRa building, and nobody had even cast a second glance their way. Their eyes had just slid over Aerith as though she were a piece of furniture – or another member of the infantry, which in ShinRa terms was essentially the same thing.

“How did you do that?” Cloud finally blurted.

Aerith glanced up from rearranging the flowers in her basket. “Hmm? Do what?”

“Walk around with everyone looking straight through you. That’s… really not normal.”

“Oh!” Aerith smiled secretively. “It’s just materia. Sort of.”

“I’ve never heard of any materia that can do that.”

“It’s a combination. Barrier with a little bit of Confuse. ”

Every time Aerith answered a question, Cloud only ended up with a hundred more. He frowned. “You can’t combine the effects of materia, though.”

“You can’t. I can.”

“How come?”

“Cloud,” Aerith tsked. “You’re getting sidetracked. All that matters is that I’m here, and I’m gonna help you get lucky with your boytoys. So, get out of that uniform and find some cute date clothes already.”

“But Genesis said—he’s talked about materia quite a bit, and I know you can’t do that with materia.”

Aerith rapped her knuckles against Cloud’s forehead. “You can if you’re a Cetra. Now come on!”

Cloud let Aerith pull him to his feet. He blinked, watching as she rummaged through his locker and picked out an outfit for him, since Cloud clearly wasn’t going to get around to it any time soon.

“Firstly, do we have to do this now? It’s kind of late, I’ve had a long day, I really just wanted to get back and sleep. Secondly, the Cetra are just a fairytale.”

“Nope! At least, not quite. There’s not many of us left now… I might be the last. But I’m definitely a Cetra.” She grinned and thrust a pile of clothes at Cloud. “Get changed.”

“Aerith…”

“It’s a Friday; you don’t have any kind of curfew tonight, right? All the other guys in your dorm have clearly already gone out for the evening. You’ve got time for a date.”

Cloud hesitated a moment longer, then his shoulders slumped. “...I should shower first.”

“That’s the spirit.”

He took the clothes and started to head towards the washroom. Aerith picked up her flower basket and followed.

“Um. You don’t need to come with me.”

“We’ll go straight out to find someone for you once you’re done, no point coming back here. Who do you want to start with? Zack?”

“I guess. I don’t know if he’d want to go out tonight, but I owe him an apology, at least.”

The showers were thankfully empty. Cloud got as far as taking his shirt off, then stopped with it in his hands. “Are you going to watch? ‘Cause I’m really going to have to draw a line somewhere.”

Aerith laughed. “Spoilsport.”

She did give him a little bit of privacy after that, at least. Cloud stripped down and showered off with military efficiency. He would have preferred to take his time and relax a bit, see if he could melt away some of the day’s stress – with no one else around, he might even have been able to get a decent amount of hot water. But Aerith was waiting.

He was pretty sure he caught Aerith checking him out as he towelled off and got changed into the clothes she’d picked out for him.

Dressed in tight jeans, a dark T-shirt that clung to him, and his military boots, Cloud would admit he did look reasonably datable. He shoved his uniform into one of the small washroom lockers for the time being.

“Okay. Do you even know if Zack’s around? He’s probably already gone out for the evening.”

“Hmm.” Aerith didn’t answer the question, her eyes raking over Cloud. Apparently deciding his outfit wasn’t quite complete, she tucked one of her flowers behind Cloud’s ear while Cloud looked on in bemusement. “Better.”

Cloud wasn’t sure the flower went with the rest of the outfit, but it was cute.

“So, Zack…?”

“Check your phone,” Aerith suggested.

Cloud did so, though not without first levelling Aerith with a very suspicious look. Maybe that was unfair. It could have just had a message arrive while he was in the shower – the name would have popped up on the screen. The phone was locked, Aerith couldn’t have gone rummaging through it.

No message.

“It might not have worked,” she said apologetically. “It was my first time trying to do anything so complicated with technology. It should work in theory, but… just select Zack’s number. You do have it, right? And then go to whatever map or GPS apps you have.”

Cloud went through the motions, not even sure what he was supposed to be achieving. He stopped and stared at the screen. Then he looked up and stared at Aerith.

“Why,” Cloud asked, his voice coming out oddly rough, “is my phone now capable of tracking people?”

“Oh! It worked?”

Cloud let out a heavy breath. “Look. I’ll buy the Cetra thing. In all the myths, the Cetra were supposed to be all in touch with the Planet and great with magic and stuff, so I’ll even accept your weird materia use. But how the hell could you possibly do something like that to my phone?”

“Do you really want to know?”

Everything about Aerith’s tone suggested the explanation was probably going to be excessively complicated, or hurt Cloud’s brain to think about, or quite possibly both. He glanced down at the phone in his hand.

“Try me,” Cloud said.

Aerith laughed. “It’s quite simple if you understand the functionality of the Lifestream.”

Cloud’s blank look said that he really did not.

“Think of the Planet as a biological organism. Like your own body. There’s hundreds of electrical and hormonal and chemical signals running through you, right? That’s information. Just not in a form you can understand.”

“I guess so?”

“So, the Lifestream is information too. You can’t understand it, but the Cetra can. Could.”

Cloud nodded, even though his brow was still furrowed in confusion. He hadn’t quite managed to connect the dots and figure out how any of this had to do with his phone’s new capabilities.

“Now, what’s powering that phone of yours?”

“Um. A battery?”

“What kind of battery?”

“One of the standard ShinRa ones. A mako battery.”

“Bingo! And that mako still holds a tiny pocket of information and a connection back to the Lifestream. It’s not easy – believe me, it is not easy, you’re kind of lucky your phone didn’t melt. Actually, you might want to put it down pretty quick if it starts feeling warm. But. Because of that mako, it is possible to integrate the two forms of information. The digital information on your phone, and… well, anything on the planet, really. Such as the location of a specific person’s life energy signature.”

Aerith beamed, clearly pleased with herself.

“I don’t… that’s not…” Cloud shook his head. He was dreaming, right? He had to be dreaming. “You are something else.”

“Any more questions?”

“No.” That was not entirely true – he had plenty more questions, but he was still trying to process everything Aerith had told him thus far.

“Good. Then let’s go already.”

This, at least, was something that made sense to Cloud. Heading up to the training rooms to hang with Zack.  Normally they would have arranged it beforehand, and normally he’d be in gear more appropriate for sparring in, but the route was as familiar as the back of his hand.

He walked the route confidently, only faltering as he reached the final corridor.

There were voices coming from the training room – Zack wasn’t alone. He felt kind of bad eavesdropping, but the door was open and he could hear them clearly whether he wanted to or not.

“Angeeeeal,” Zack complained. “Stop joking around.”

“I would never joke about such a matter,” Angeal replied. He was using the ‘serious’ tone that was a parody of his own usual serious tone; Cloud didn’t have to be able to see him to picture the small, wry smile that would accompany the words.

“Shut up. And stop giving me ideas. Don’t you have Genesis to go blow?”

“Zack,” Angeal chided.

“Alright, alright,” Zack laughed. “It’s fine, though. Thanks for coming and hanging out with me, but I don’t wanna steal your entire evening. I know you had plans.”

Cloud peeked around the door just in time to see Zack sprawled on the floor. He rolled up onto his back and then jumped straight to his feet. “Seriously, Ang. I’m gonna head off too. I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

“If you say so, puppy.”

There was a brief moment where the two men engaged in something that was a combination of a scuffle and a one-armed hug, and then Angeal said his farewells. Cloud and Aerith flattened themselves back against the wall as Angeal left – thankfully – in the other direction down the corridor.

“Alright!” Aerith whispered. “Now’s your chance.” She hastily pulled a few flowers from her basket and clasped Cloud’s hand around them. “Go say whatever you need to, give these to Zack, and then for the love of Gaia just ask him out!”

Cloud hesitated. Aerith made it sound so easy, but Cloud’s months of insecurities immediately burst back into existence like an entire tornado of butterflies in his gut. “What if he’s not into me?”

“Your ass is fantastic and everyone wants to tap that. Go!” She gave Cloud a firm shove into the training room.

Cloud muttered a curse under his breath, but it was too late. His ungainly stumble of an entrance had caught Zack’s attention.

Zack tilted his head. “Cloud?”

Shit. Cloud could feel his face heating up already. It was always like this now, for the last couple of weeks. Maybe months, even. He couldn’t even just chill out and enjoy spending time with Zack, because the weight of his crush was a constant burden. It left him flustered and tongue-tied every time Zack gave him that handsome, winning smile.

“I, uh—” Gods, get it together, Strife. “I’m glad you’re here, I was hoping to find you.” Remembering he had props this time, Cloud held out the flowers to Zack like a peace offering. “I’m sorry about what I said earlier. I was having a rough day and got frustrated, but I shouldn’t have snapped at you just ‘cause of that.”

Zack blinked, then grinned. “Aww! So you bought me flowers? That’s adorable. Where did you even get these?”

“I met a girl selling them while I was on patrol.” Cloud looked down at the floor and awkwardly scuffed the tip of his shoe. He could practically feel Aerith facepalming behind the door.

Zack took the flowers, his fingers lingering over Cloud’s.

That gave Cloud confidence. It felt… a little bit romantic, almost. Zack wouldn’t be brushing his fingers against Cloud’s like that, so purposefully and slowly, unless he had more than just a platonic interest in Cloud. Right?

“I, uh,” Cloud took a deep breath. “I also sort of wanted to ask you on a date,” he said rapidly.

A slow smile spread across Zack’s face. “What,” he teased, “even though I’m already part of some big First Class orgy?”

Cloud flushed. “I didn’t mean that.”

“I know you didn’t. Thanks for the mental images though. I mean, damn.” Zack gave a low whistle. “I’ll definitely have to keep that in mind for future late night spank bank sessions.”

“Zack,” Cloud said, starting to laugh. Although his face was still a little warm with thoughts of Zack jerking off now.

Zack’s eyes were bright with humour. “So, tell me about this date offer of yours.”

Cloud had… not thought that far ahead. His mind raced through all the things he knew Zack liked doing – things they’d done together, just hanging out and having a good time as friends. A lot of it was simple things; staying in round at Zack’s place and playing games or watching movies, tossing popcorn at each other and laughing until their sides hurt. But they’d been out a few times too, to pubs or arcades, just shooting the shit.

Then again, that was what they had always done as friends. If Cloud wanted them to be more than friends, maybe he should be doing something more too?

Damn. What would Aerith want him to do?

Aerith…

“Wall Market,” Cloud said confidently. Zack raised his eyebrows sky high and Cloud sputtered. “I mean, to go get food! There’s that restaurant that does a killer BBQ plate. And they’ve got the arcade, and the street stalls and carnival games. It could be fun, right?”

Zack stuck his tongue out. “For a moment, I thought you were gonna invite me to some sleazy love hotel.”

“Zack!” Cloud protested, halfway between blushing and laughing. “What kind of skeevy-ass date do you think I am?”

“I dunno,” Zack said, eyeing Cloud critically up and down. “Take me to one of the nicer love hotels and you might have yourself a deal.”

Cloud’s heart did a strange little flip in his chest, struck speechless for a long moment. Zack winked at him.

“When did you wanna go? I don’t have any plans for tonight, and it’s not too late yet.”

“Um.” Cloud swallowed, trying to remember how to speak. He was still a little stuck on the implication that Zack was down for going to a love hotel with him. “Yeah. Tonight is good.”

“Alright. Gimme fifteen minutes to get changed. I’ll meet you at the building entrance?”

Cloud nodded.

Zack smiled and reached up, gently pushing Cloud’s bangs back where he still had Aerith’s flower in his hair. “Cute flower, by the way. You should keep it.”

“Thanks. Do you mind if I…?” Cloud took one of the flowers from the bunch Zack held, gently pulling it free from the rest of the bouquet. He tucked it behind Zack’s ear with a shy smile. “Now we match.”

Zack was beaming. “You’re adorable.”

Cloud ducked his head, hiding his embarrassment as Zack slung and arm over Cloud’s shoulders and gave him a squeeze.

“Fifteen minutes,” Zack promised. He gave Cloud a grin and a cheery wave as he dashed off to his apartment, clearly with every intention of sticking to his deadline.

Cloud sighed and slumped once Zack was out of sight. He’d got what he wanted, but he probably could’ve gone about that a lot more smoothly.

“Aww, don’t be embarrassed! That didn’t go too bad.”

“Shit, Aerith!” Cloud said, startled. He hadn’t even noticed her come in. “Well, I guess I got the date, at least. He seemed really up for it, I didn’t think he’d accept so easily…”

“Pssh. Of course he accepted. How long have you two idiots been dancing around each other? The second you got in the room together the tension was just palpable.”

“…you think so?”

Aerith placed both of hands on Cloud shoulders and looked at him seriously. “Remember what I said about the Lifestream being information? People have the energy of the Lifestream running through them, and I can read that energy. It’s not so complex as mind reading or anything, but I can pick up emotions and intentions. And yes, Zack wants in your pants.”

“Oh.”

“’Oh,’ indeed.” Aerith let go of Cloud, putting her hands on her hips instead. “Now, listen up. I don’t normally go spilling information about other people, but I can see the situation here is pretty dire. Zack is into you, but he’s hesitating to make a move ‘cause he still sees you as too sweet and innocent.”

“I’m twenty,” Cloud grumbled under his breath.

“Right. And how old were you when you guys met?”

“Sixteen, nearly seventeen. Why?”

“’Cause Zack’s got this block in his head, I can sense it. He’s convinced himself you’re off limits. Probably because you were when you guys first met. Get it?”

“…I suppose that makes sense.”

“So,” Aerith’s smile widened, “what you need to do on this date is remind him you are very much an adult now, and very much interested in him. You’re gonna have be confident and take the lead here. Be aggressive! Put some moves on him!”

Cloud hesitated. He liked the idea. He liked it a lot. The thought of pushing Zack up against a wall and kissing him stupid, until he finally admitted what they both wanted… He would have done something like that a long time ago, if it wasn’t for the one thing holding him back.

“You’re sure he’s not going to reject me? This won’t wreck our friendship?” Cloud questioned.

“He wants you bad,” Aerith reassured him. “He had some lovely images in his head…”

Cloud felt his face heating up, but he was intrigued at the same time. “I thought you couldn’t read specific thoughts.”

“He was broadcasting it pretty loud. You are okay with doggy style, right?”

“Aerith!”

She only laughed, delighted by the very interesting shade of red Cloud’s face had turned. “Seriously, though. Hurry up and get downstairs, he’s gonna be waiting for you.”

“What, you’re not going to stalk me on the date too?”

“Nope! You’re on your own for that one. But I want to hear all about it when you’re done.”

“Fantastic,” Cloud muttered.

Aerith leaned in and gave Cloud a quick kiss on the cheek, and Cloud stared at her in shock. “For luck,” Aerith said, starting to push Cloud out of the training room. Cloud got the hint and started heading for the elevator under his own power – Aerith followed him as far as that, but didn’t join him for the downward journey.

She waved at him as the elevator doors slid shut between them.

“Wait!” Cloud started. “You can’t just stay in the ShinRa building—”

Too late. Cloud leaned back against the elevator wall and ran a hand through his hair. He’d just have to trust that Aerith could take care of herself. Right now, he had a date to worry about.

[lalainajanes]

THESE PROMPTS LAINE HOO BOY kc + “I bet I can dance/move/act like that and I don’t even have to be a dancer/stripper/actor/whatever wait are you turned on?” sex

I Like Your Style

When his doorbellrings at 8:17 PM on a Wednesday, when he’s not expecting a soul, Klaus decidesto ignore whoever thought that dropping by - uninvited and unannounced – was a good idea. His phone hasn’t made a soundall evening and surely, if there were some sort of emergency, someone wouldhave tried to call first. He shifts on the couch, sinking deeper into thecushions, and continues with his Netflix surfing.

He cannot concentrate,idly scrolling without really absorbing anything, as the doorbell will not stopringing. If anything his guest becomes morepersistent, making the irritating ringing infinitely more so by tapping out a melodyof short chimes and long clangs that are familiar. And not in a good way.

Klaus is given a briefreprieve, a moment of blessed silence, and he thinks he just might have managedto out stubborn the doorbell maestro.

Only to be immediatelytreated to another, equally impassioned, performance. Which just about pushesthe limit of Klaus’ patience.

He tosses his remoteaside and pushes himself to his feet before stalking towards the front door. Apassing glance at the mirror in his hallway tells him he’s probably not fit forcompany, he’d already showered and hadn’t bothered with a shirt, but since he’sreasonably certain he doesn’t actually likehis visitor – he might not be able to place the song but it was awful – he doesn’t feel the need to makehimself presentable.

An impulse he regretsupon first opening the door. Caroline Forbes might not have been invited but,standing on his porch in a yellow sundress, her blonde curls loose about hershoulders, she’s far from unwelcome. Klaus is already fully aware of herquestionable taste in music and, since it had been a boon to him just lastweek, it’s in no way a deal breaker. Her lovely blue eyes widen, her sunnysmile dimming slightly as her eyes drop, raking over his torso. There’s a hintof shock, no healthy amount of interest, and more than a dollop of heat as hergaze lingers over his shoulders and flickers lower.

Perhaps there’ssomething to be said for not being presentable. He might even flex a little as he crosses his arms and leans againstthe wall just inside the doorway, silently waiting for Caroline to realizeshe’s quite shamelessly objectifying him and failing to be subtle about it.

It’s unfortunate that thereare no witnesses because Klaus knows she’s likely to deny it later.

Caroline visiblyshakes herself, her spine straightening, and meets his eyes once more. There’sa brief flash of chagrin but determination quickly masks any embarrassment.When she speaks it’s cheery, “Hey, Klaus. Are you busy?”

He glances down athimself pointedly, “Not particularly. Why do you ask?”

“Because I think it’stime we settle our little disagreement.” Caroline tells him.

Klaus wracks hisbrain, trying to figure out what she means. He and Caroline disagree –frequently and often at great volume, much to the amusement of his siblings andtheir assorted friends – so narrowing it down isn’t easy. He’d seen Carolinejust last Sunday, at a dinner at Rebekah’s (a monthly affair where she orderedgourmet takeout, plated it on her designer table wear, and pretended like sheknew how to operate her range). Caroline had spent the evening gleefullytaunting him about his love for the pop group they’d taken in a few days prior.Klaus had been roped into chaperoning Henrik who, in the midst of an epicteenage puppy love, had wanted to take his girlfriend to see her favoritegroup. Klaus, unwilling to face a crush of teenagers alone had, in turn, manageto cajole (and bribe) Caroline into tagging along. He was supposed to help herpaint her living room this weekend, the price they’d agreed upon.

He’d gotten off easy,really. The flashing lights, high pitched screams, and so called music had beenalmost bearable with Caroline at his side, bright and joyous and dancing alongwith the crowd. At one point she’d turned in his direction and he’d quicklyfaced the stage, adopted a look of concentration so she’d not realize he’d beenintently watching her, and not thespectacle he’d paid an exorbitant amount of money to witness.

He’d overdone it andCaroline had taken his feigned interest in the performance as a sign that hewas a secret girl groupie (her words, not his). She’d been texting him gossipabout the band member’s tumultuous love lives and links to interviews posted onYouTube ever since.

He’s mostly beenignoring it, certain that any heated denials would be taken as further proof ofhis supposed ardor. Eventually, he and Caroline would find another subject tospar over. They always did.

What pressing disagreementdoes she thinks needs to be solved immediately? Klaus has to admit he hasn’t aclue.

She shifts her weightwhen he remains silent, hefting a large bag he’s just now noticing higher onher shoulder. “I’m going to need your bathroom for like twenty minutes. AndI’ll have to borrow a chair.”

That just confusesKlaus all the more. “I’m lost, sweetheart.”

She lets out anannoyed huff, pointedly keeping her eyes trained on a point somewhere to theleft of his head. “You told me all your drooling at the concert was over the‘grace and athleticism’ of the dancing, remember? Which I called bullshit on,of course. But you were all blah blah blah artistry blah blah blah years oftraining.”

Klaus fights a wince,recalling that particular argument. It wasn’t his finest moment but he’d had tocome up with something to explain awaywhat she’d seen as fascination. And then Caroline had gotten so offended,calling the choreography ‘cookie cutter sexbot thrusting’ and he hadn’t beenable to resist countering, just to see her color heighten and her hands gesturewildly as she attempted to prove her point.

It was his usual instinct,one he rarely bothered fighting. Really, it was a miracle Caroline hadn’trealized his interest. Every single one of their mutual acquaintances hadremarked on it. Klaus suspected there was even a betting pool.

“And you’re going toprove me wrong… how?”

Caroline’s smile is aslow thing, hinting at an ace up her sleeve, and Klaus is both wary andintrigued. She meets his eyes, hers filled with challenge, “Why don’t you letme in and I’ll show you?”

Wordlessly, Klaussteps aside, waving her in. Sucks in a harsh breath when she pats his stomach,her hand lingering in a way that feels deliberate. She doesn’t look at him,merely strides ahead. “Living room first,” she calls. “We’re going to need tomove some furniture.”

He still has verylittle idea of what’s happening but Klaus follows Caroline’s lead. Obliges herwhen she asks him to push his couch against one wall, the coffee table againstanother. She seems to consider the rug but then decides it can stay. She avoidshis gaze, manner brisk and businesslike, only stopping when he taunts her aboutit, pride stealing across her expressive face. Her eyelids grow heavy when shelooks at him a new weight and anticipation there. She stands close to him,closer than necessary, doesn’t shy away when his skin brushes against her barearm or her clothed back. When the room has been rearranged to her specificationsshe nods her satisfaction. “Perfect. Time for wardrobe. I’ll be right back.”She collects her bag and strolls from the room before Klaus can think to pepperher with questions.

He settles in to wait,finds he can’t mourn the change in his evening’s plans. Not when it seems likeCaroline’s are going to turn out to be far superior.

She strives for calmas she changes, rolling on the shimmery fishnets and wriggling into the blackleotard she’d tracked down yesterday. The scoop neck was modest but it was cutlow in the back. Somehow it still managed to keep her boobs in place soCaroline figured it was worth the drive out to the dance shop she hadn’t evenknown existed until this plan had occurred to her.

It had seemed geniusat the time. Now, minutes away from actually doing it Caroline can maybe admitthat it was a little crazy. That she didn’t do her best thinking in the middleof the night when she’d been tossing and turning and mentally rehearsing newrebuttals and quips for the next time she saw Klaus.

She notices her handsstarting to shake when she retrieves her makeup bag and she sets it downcarefully, taking a deep breath. Clown makeup was not on the agenda for theevening. Though if her lipstick happened to get a little smeared later on shewouldn’t exactly object.

She eyes her phone,resting innocently on the countertop and debates calling one of her friends fora chat. They’d all been dragged to a dance class over the last week, some moregood naturedly than others, and they’d probably be good for a pep talk (Elena)or at least willing to listen to her vent her nerves (Bonnie).

If Caroline called Katshe’d likely even get yet anotherlecture about how she really didn’t need to try so hard, that she could havesaved herself the muscle strain and expense if she’d just shown up at his doorin a trench coat and some fuck me heels. ‘I don’t even like him, Caroline,’she’d said, after taking a deep drink of wine. “And I hate lending people my shoes. But I will do it, for you. And forme, so I don’t have to listen to your verbal foreplay ever again.”

Caroline had insistedthat it was just her duty to prove to Klaus how very wrong he was. She’dspecifically come today because no one thought Wednesday was an appropriate day for a booty call. She’d beensnippy and irritated that her friends hadn’t bought a single word of herdenials.

Standing in Klaus’bathroom, jittery and nervous but also excited, Caroline’s beginning to realizethat she might owe each of them a round of ‘I told you so.’

Assuming this wholething didn’t blow up in her face and she had to flee to another state inhumiliation.

She’s totally going toblame it on the fact that he’d opened the door looking rumpled and delicious,more skin on display than she’d ever seen. Her carefully rehearsed speech hadfled and she’d had a brief, verydistracting, fantasy about dropping her bag and reaching for him with nofurther preliminaries.

Those kinds ofthoughts about Klaus weren’t exactly new. His face had been popping up in herfantasy repertoire regularly, beginning back when he was just an acquaintancewith nice hands and a voice that she was sure was made for dirty talk. He’dbegun appearing with more frequency as they’d gotten to know each other becauseas much as he infuriated her  sometimesshe always walked away from their little spats feeling energized, ready to go anotherround.

It was only natural,she’d told herself, to wonder how their dynamic – the push pull of it that lefther heated and excited – would translate with them naked.

Caroline draws herselfup to her full height and pushes those thoughts away before they can take root.Right now wasn’t the time, she refuses to be blushing and nervous when shewalked out there. Her motives might have shifted but she still had a point toprove. Caroline concentrates on fluffing up her curls in the mirror beforereaching for her makeup again, taking a deep steadying breath. She had a planand she was committed to executing it. She’d just get through the steps she’dlaid out, nice and easy, one after the other. It was time to get her game faceon.

Pessimism wasn’t herthing and at least, if things went horribly, going to insane lengths to win anargument was totally in character. She could spin it, weather the friendlyribbing that came her way, and go back to being Klaus’ friend slash adversarylike nothing had happened.

If she took a shot andfell flat maybe she could finally get over her silly little crush. And on thebright side, if her shot hit its mark, she wouldn’t have to. Her friends wouldstill mock her, of course. But Klaus was totally petty enough to join her insome serious revenge PDA so Caroline thought she’d still come out a winner.

He paces, curiosityraging, straining to hear anything from down the hallway, itching for the tiniesthint about what Caroline has planned. The use of the word ‘wardrobe’ was particularlyintriguing, suggesting that Caroline was in a state of undress in his bathroom,something he struggles not to dwell on knowing full well his attire won’t hidemuch. Unfortunately, not a peep makes it to his ears, and Klaus is left totorture himself with possibilities, most likely too good to be true, until the bathroomdoor creaks back open and he hears her step out of the bathroom.

At which point he throwshimself on to the couch, crosses his ankle over his opposite knee, all in aneffort to look natural and nonchalant.

It’s a waste as he’scertain the way his lips part, body stiffening, in shock as Caroline walks backinto the living room are most illuminating and he’s grateful his legs willobscure the visible tent in his sweats caused by his swelling cock. He swallowsheavily, taking in the sleek lines of her body, lovingly outlined in verylittle fabric. What covers her clings deliciously and his hands itch to skimover her curves. He’s always liked her legs, had vivid desires involving them wrappedabout his hips, and they seem especially endless and tempting in the stockingsshe wears. Caroline tosses him a smirk, flipping her hair over her shoulder,resting a hand on her hip. “My eyes are up here,” she taunts.

Klaus clears histhroat, “Caroline, wh…” he trails off, uncertain of what he means to ask. ‘Whatare you wearing?’ “What are you doing?’ “Why are you all the way across theroom when you could be in my lap?’

He should probably workup to that last bit.

Her laugh is warm, atouch mischievous. There’s a slight relaxing of her posture, her confidenceradiates in the swaying of her hips as she takes a few steps towards him.There’s nothing but innocence in her expression, too much to be natural. “I’mproving a point. I haven’t taken a dance class since college but I bet I can doit just as well as those girls you were eyeing.”

He takes a second todigest that, to ponder the implications. “You’re going to… dance? Now? Inthat?” He’s helpless not to gesture, cringing because he knows he sounds like an imbecile.

Caroline’s fingertipsstroke across the neckline of her top, head tipped to the side quizzically, “What’swrong with what I’m wearing?”

Klaus clenches histeeth together because what he’d wanted to blurt out – that the only thing wrong with the clingy black scraps offabric she had on what that he wasn’t entirely certain he could remove themexpediently – was probably unwise. “Nothing,” he manages, clipped and terse.

Caroline doesn’t seemto take offense, if anything she looks pleased. “Well, now that we’veestablished what I’m doing here, why don’t you take a seat? I’ll be out of yourhair in under a half hour, don’t you worry.”

She breezes away,towards the kitchen, before Klaus can argue with her assumption that he wantsher gone.

No matter. He’ll makea point of mentioning it later.

Caroline worksquickly, dragging one of Klaus’ kitchen chairs into the center of his livingroom, hooking up her phone to his stereo system. It only takes a moment – she’dmonopolized the music at a party he’d thrown once or twice or every single timeeven though he complained incessantly – and she doesn’t let herself look athim.

A girl only had somuch self-control.

He hadn’t bothered toput a shirt on and he wears only a pair of sweatpants, slung low enough thatit’s entirely possible he’s not wearing anything underneath them. She wants toask him about the tattoos, wants to discover the texture of his skin, to see ifhe’ll shudder when she traces his hipbone with her tongue.

She’d want to throwherself at him even if he hadn’t been watching her every move with lustdarkened eyes, the lines of his body taut, a struggle painted clear across hisface.

He wanted her. Of thatCaroline had no more doubts.

She gets intoposition, facing Klaus with the chair in front of her, setting a hand on thetop rung, letting her hair fall down to curtain her face. The music begins,slow and sultry, and she begins to sway her hips in time, bending deeper with everyeight count. Caroline’s certain she hears a noise, a tiny pained groan, andbites the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling. She swings a leg over thechair, pausing to turn in profile and run her hand along her thigh as shecatches Klaus’ eye. She spins, and drapes herself across it, extending her legsand dipping low over the other side, arching her back to pull herself up, herhand coming up to play with her hair. She twists, facing him, easing her thighsopen as she glances up to gauge Klaus’ reaction and stills once she sees thathe’s moving. His jaw’s clenched tight and Caroline’s eyes widen when he loomsover her. He pauses for a second, his eyes tracing a hot path down the line ofher body. She fights the urge to squirm but then Klaus is dropping to hisknees, cupping her jaw and tugging her closer. She goes willingly, eagerly,slipping off the chair and grasping his shoulders for purchase. Klaus smilesinto the kiss, wrapping his arm around her waist and hauling into him, chest toknee, shoving the chair away carelessly. He pulls back enough to speak thoughthe patterns he’s tracing along her spine are distracting. “Perhaps I’llconcede. Just this once.”

Her laugh is breathy, “Yeah,you’ll concede. You really are into the whole cheesy choreography thing, huh?”

He shakes his head, atouch exasperated, “I barely saw those girls, Caroline. I was looking at youand you almost caught me.”

She doesn’t botherfighting the pleased smile. “Noted. Totally kicking myself for putting all theeffort into learning a routine now. I didn’t even get to the good part.”

Klaus increases thedistance between them, intrigue flickering across his face, “The good part?””

Caroline’s not havingthat. “Later,” she murmurs, burying her hand in his hair. “Assuming you don’tsuck at the sex thing.”

Klaus is unable totake that as anything but a challenge, just as Caroline had intended. He useshis arm to lift her, his hand coming up to cradle her head as he lays her onher back. He props himself up on one elbow, settling into the cradle of herthighs and leaning down to kiss her once more. There’s less urgency now, theheat builds slowly, his tongue teasing and stroking as their breath quickensand her hips push up searching for friction. Klaus’ hand begins to wander, hestrokes her throat and her head tips back with an encouraging sigh. His mouthmoves to her throat as his fingertips trace her collarbone, hooking into theneckline of her leotard. He tugs enough to bare one breast, his fingertipsgentle on the slope before finding her nipple. It begins to firm under histouch, tightening under the roughening circles of his thumb. He glances down,lips parted. “Lovelier than I’d imagined,” he murmurs. His hand leaves her,head dipping. His lips close over her nipple, Caroline arches up with a moanand he attempts to push the fabric further down. It resists and Caroline letsout a noise of protest as he pulls back, brow furrowed, “How does one removethis?”

She’d laugh at howpuzzled he seems, makes a mental note to make a joke about it later, but it’snot the time for humor, not with her skin tingling and a persistent achebetween her thighs. She pushes him back slightly, hooking a leg over his hip sohe doesn’t go far, and tugs a strap down her shoulder in impatient jerks. Theother quickly follows and Klaus seems eager to help, rolling the leotard down hertorso. Caroline hooks her thumbs in her tights, wiggling her hips so they comeoff too. Klaus freezes for a moment. “You weren’t wearing anything under that,”he mutters, almost to himself, sounding strained.

He’s stoppedundressing her and Caroline’s not having that. Letting out an annoyed huff shegets one leg free, biting her lip to keep from moaning when she presses againstKlaus’ cock, straining behind a single layer of fabric. “It’s not very forgiving.I didn’t want lines. Besides, pretty sure I am not the only one going commandohere.” This time she grinds up deliberately and a shudder wracks Klaus’ frame.She runs her nails along his spine, one drifting up to tug at the curls at thebase of his neck, the other pushing under the waistband of his sweats. His headbows, a harsh breath panted against her throat and he rears up, shoving theirremaining clothes aside. This time she’s helpless to resist the urge to reachfor him, sitting up when he moves to hover over her again, pushing at hisshoulder until he gets the hint and rolls onto his back.

Caroline wraps herhand around his cock, slinging a leg over his hips and shaking her hair back.She strokes him, rubbing her thumb along the tip of him, relishing his harshinhale. Just like when they argue Klaus is completely unwilling to let her win,rolling himself up and brushing her hands aside. He angles his head and kissesher, tempting her to part her lips with a lush swipe of his tongue, a hand onher hip urging her to move against him. Her mouth falls open as she sinksdeeper into the kiss, thighs widening as she searches for friction. She gaspswhen she feels his fingers, parting her folds and coming away slick.

She’s been turned on sinceshe started to dance, ready for him to be inside her since he’d first put hismouth on her nipple. Klaus seems intent on teasing her with light indirecttouches to her clit that tighten the knots in her stomach but give her norelief. His other hand is greedy for all the skin it can reach, smoothing overher back and ass, sneaking between them to palm a breast. Caroline bites downon his shoulder and Klaus hisses, taking the hint and easing a finger inside. “More,”she rasps, soothing the mark she’d left.

He obeys pressing his handtightly to her. She begins to ride his fingers in earnest, thighs tremblingwhen the heel of his hand rubs against her clit. He groans, leaning back towatch her face, “Just like that Caroline. Do you know how many times I’vethought of you like this? Trembling and breathless and wet because of me.”

Hopefully nearly asmany times as she has. He curls his fingers, rubbing against a spot inside ofher that has her head falling back and her vision going hazy, “Tell me,” shedemands, in a voice that’s hoarse and edged in need.

Klaus obliges, and she’dtotally been right about his voice. Thickened with his own arousal it’smesmerizing, “The little dresses you favor make it impossible not to thinkabout sneaking my hand underneath your skirt when we’re at a bar or out todinner. I’d stroke your thighs, a silent question, and you’d spread them forme, eager for my touch. In my mind you’ve been wet and hot around my fingerswhile I’ve gotten you off under a table while you flush prettily and try not tosquirm dozens upon dozens of times.”

Caroline swallowshard, rolling her head forward to look at him. His face is tight with strain,lips reddened and swollen. She manages a broken inhale, scrambling to puttogether a coherent sentence, “Well, we are supposed to do drinks on Friday…”

He makes a harshnoise, low in his throat, his hand easing away from her. Caroline’s mouth dropsopen but his next words stills her protest, “I need a condom.”

She shakes her head, “Ihave the implant and I don’t have anything. Are you…”

“Disease free? Yes.”

That’s good enough forher. She trusts him and she wants him and stopping right now when she’s soclose seems like torture. She lifts up higher onto her knees and reaches down,their fingers tangle but they get him positioned and Caroline sinks down with amoan, looking down to watch him slide inside of her. He grips her hips tightlywhen he’s all the way in, his body a solid line of tension against hers. Shefights the hold, needing to move, andhe eases up with a groan, reaching to tease her clit again when she begins tomove. It’s probably not graceful, more frantic than finessed, but Klaus doesn’tseem to mind, little noises of need spilling from him every time she takes himback inside of her. Their skin heats and slickens and soon she’s short ofbreath and the best kind of dizzy.

Caroline cries out as his fingers rub againsther with more purpose and she begins to shake, gripping him as her orgasmbuilds. “You’re so close, sweetheart,” Klaus murmurs. “Let go for me.”

She slumps into himwhen it hits her, muffling her cry in his skin and Klaus’ arms tighten aroundher as he lets go, snapping his hips up into hers as he chases his own release.He bites out a sharp curse, a reverent whisper of her name, before he collapsesback onto the floor, Caroline following him down. They shift for a minute toget comfortable, and Caroline squirms as he slips out of her before settlingagainst his chest.

The music’s longstopped and she lays her head over his chest, listens to his heart slow as hesifts his hands through her hair. When she feels like she can talk without wheezingshe peeks up, only to find Klaus’ eyes closed, his expression content. As if hefeels her watching his eyes slit open and he smiles, “Something on your mind?”

So many things.

She bites her lip andKlaus’ eyes flare with a new rush of heat as he watches, “Okay, first, Ilegitimately did not plan to seduce you.”

Klaus appears dubious,“You planned to dance for me, wearing what you were wearing, but it wasn’t aseduction?”

Okay, fine, when youput it like that it sounded bad.

“I didn’t consciously decide to seduce you,” sheamends.

He presses his lipstogether like he’s trying not to laugh. “Well, remind me to do something nicefor your subconscious someday. It obviously has discerning tastes.”

She pokes him in theside, narrowing her eyes in a glare. He couldn’t seriously be mocking her,could he? They were naked and she could feel their combined release coating theinside of her thighs.

Klaus hauls her upwith his grip on her hair, kissing her until her lips soften and cling to his. “I’dintended to ask you to dinner for ages. We always just seem to sink intobickering before I can manage and then it seems like bad timing.”

“Oh,” Caroline says,slightly mollified. “Maybe you should be less of a dick then.”

Klaus laughs, “I thinkthat’s unlikely. Perhaps you should be less easy to bait, hmm?”

Caroline has to admitthat also seems unlikely. She sits up and notes the way Klaus eyes her breastshungrily. She moves away before he can make the move he’s clearly considering, “Compromise,”she offers. “We bicker while we dodate things. Starting with food. Now.”

Klaus reaches over hishead in a stretch, and she kind of can’t fault him for ogling her boobs, notwhen she takes a very long look at the way his pale skin stretches over thelean muscles of his abdomen, letting her eyes linger on his cock that seems tobe twitching back into readiness. He doesn’t seem to mind the scrutiny, foldinghis hands under his head, “That’s a compromise I can live with. I’ve heardexcellent things about make up sex.”

Caroline doesn’t lookat him as she stands and makes her way to the bathroom. She’s going to needsustenance because she knows she won’t be able to resist picking a fight withthat statement lingering between them.

Could make up sex withKlaus even be better than the sexthey’d just had? Her legs are shaky and she feels fantastic so Caroline’sskeptical.

But not at all opposedto experimenting.