#when she literally told me i had a thinner waist when i was working out

[daycourtofficial]

Come Back to Bed

Summary: You wake up in the middle of the night needing Eris.

Warnings: smut, literally just smut, cock-warming, degradation, Eris being the hottest man alive

Your footsteps are silent as you patter down the hall, the silence of the Forest House a nice surprise. Between Eris’s brothers and the staff of the house, the place was usually bustling with people and noise.

You slink to Eris’s study, slowly opening the door, trying not to disturb him too much. You walk over to him, draping your arms over his shoulders from behind and whisper, “come to bed.”

Your mate had told you he would have a long night tonight - he had been neglecting some correspondence the past week in favor of time with you, and he didn’t want it to get too bad.

He grabs your hand, rubbing soothing circles on the back of it. “I just need another hour, bunny.”

You sigh into his neck, and walk around the chair, moving his arms so you can sit directly on his lap.

He at least had changed into some loose sleep pants, your mate often choosing formality over comfort. You’re glad he listened to you about being comfortable, however the thinner pants might be a problem for you, considering the reason you came to seek him out.

He sets his quill down, his hands ghosting over the backs of your thighs that your short nightgown doesn’t cover, helping you lower yourself right over him.

You practically moan feeling his cock pressed against you, and he gives you a feline smirk.

“Oh, bunny, is that why you came to find me?” He asks, one of his hands softly grabbing your neck. “Couldn’t stop thinking of me?”

Your hips start grinding against him, the only thing separating you two is his thin pants.

The hand on his neck gently glides down your body, caressing your breasts as it moves, and lands on one of your hips, his other hand taking the other hip, holding you in place.

He starts guiding your grinding, forcing you to go faster, as you tell him quietly, “I had a-a dream.”

His smirk grows even larger, his fingers digging deeper into your skin.

“My little bunny can’t have a peaceful night’s rest without my cock, can she?”

He quickly pulls you off his cock, your whine making him chuckle. He rests you on his thigh, barely making contact with it before starting to grind again.

He starts to undo the button on his pants, allowing his cock to spring free of the fabric. You stare at it, the need inside of you becoming so much stronger.

“If you don’t close your mouth, you’re going to start drooling,” he laughs, “maybe I should just leave you to look at it, see if you will drool.”

You whine, picking up the pace on his thigh, his pant leg coated in your arousal.

He grabs your hips again, placing you back on top of him, allowing you to line yourself up with his cock, slowly stretching yourself on him.

You gasp as he fills you up, and you go to start moving again, when you feel a ring of fire around your waist, keeping you in place.

He grabs your face, looking so smug you want to slap him, “aw, did my bunny think it’d be that easy? I still have work to finish. But if she’s good and waits patiently right here, I’ll let her have what she wants.”

You sigh, trying to just move your damn hips, but his fire is keeping you in place.

“Oh and one more thing,” he says, a ring of fire binding each of your hands to his shoulders, “no touching yourself either.”

He sits up a little straighter, making a big deal of pressing his cock further into you, reaching past you and grabbing his quill, picking up where he left off.

You’re not really sure how long it’s been when you hear Eris put the quill down, your head snapping straight up to look into his eyes, full of mischief and enjoyment.

You want to snarl at him.

He picks you up, letting you off of his cock, as he lays you down on the desk, all the letters still covering it.

“Now, for being a good little bunny, I’m going to fuck you right on top of all my correspondence,” his hands start moving up your sides, helping guide you to lay on top of the chaos of his desk. “Maybe your scent will coat the letters, and everyone will know how much of a needy little whore my mate is and they’ll understand the delay in communication.”

You moan at his words. He crawls on top of you, his hands trailing up your legs, his fingers caressing you, feeling how wet and needy you are.

He drags one of his fingers through your folds, your breath hitching in your throat as he brings the finger up to his mouth to taste you.

“Such a needy bunny,” he says, letting his cock drag across your folds, watching you shiver with need.

“Is this what you need?”

You nod your head, but he grabs your jaw, making you look at him, “Use your words.”

“Yes,” you say, keeping your eyes locked onto his.

“Good,” he says, as he slides himself into you again. Instead of staying in place like he had been for the past hour, he sets a quick pace with his thrusts.

He leans down to kiss you, his tongue licking your lips for entry. You let him in, the taste of your own arousal entering your mouth.

The sounds coming from you are utterly sinful, and his sounds are no purer. The fast pace, the sounds, his tongue in your mouth.

It’s too much for you, it’s too much for him, and you feel his warm seed fill you up, causing you to come undone.

You’re panting, trying to remember anything other than Eris, when he pulls himself out of you slowly, and starts inching his hand down to you, collecting all the semen that leaked out of you and was coating your folds.

“What are you doing?” You ask, trying to catch your breath.

“Well if you’re so needy, I want you to have every last drop.”

He plunges the fingers coated in him inside of you, starting with one, then adding a second.

“Maybe if I keep you fuller, it’ll keep you satiated for longer.”

You’re grinding down on his fingers as they work in and out of you. You’re bordering on overstimulation, when he begins biting your neck.

That causes you to come undone again, Eris smirking at you spasming around his fingers.

He kisses you gently as he pulls out his fingers and scoops you up so you’re curled in his lap as he sits back down in his chair, holding you close to him.

“Do you think,” you say, out of breath, “all the ink was dry when you laid me down?”

He laughs, looking at the desk where a few letters are smudged. “Not a chance.”

[quibbs126]

This is another one no one asked for, but it was one I wanted to do. They’re a bit high up on my list (though surprisingly not as high as I thought, they’re on the low end of my top 25), but I was struggling to come up with ideas and I had some for them, so I decided to do them

Originally it was just going to be one like my others, and I was going to do Choco Vine, but then I thought “oh hey, those molten lava cakes would work for a darkyam kid too”, and put that on my notes, but then I couldn’t decide which to do. Then later I was told about ube rolls and thought that would work for one too, so I was in a dilemma trying to figure out which to do. But then I thought, “why not do all three?” And so yeah, that’s what I did. Took quite a while, was working on this both today and yesterday, though I suppose that’s understandable given that there’s three of them

So Choco Vine is named after chocolate vines, aka akebi, which has a purplish flower hat smells like chocolate. It does have a fruit but I opted for the flower instead

Chocolate vine/akebi:

For Lava Fudge, he’s named after molten chocolate cakes, aka lava cakes. I don’t quite remember where the “fudge” bit came from, but I thought it worked. I chose that because chocolate, and also Purple Yam tends to be associated with fire and heat, so a “lava cake” just fits

Lava cake:

And then ube rolls are cakes made with Ube, aka purple yams. And the stripe of white reminded me of Dark Choco’s white stripes

Ube roll:

Let’s see, their designs…I’m trying to think of things to say

Okay, so Choco Vine’s hair is supposed to be like the flower, even if it doesn’t really embody the shape. The flower has these little purple bits in the middle (they look more purple in other pictures), so I just added it at the top of her hair, and it also looks like a little bow. I always envisioned Choco Vine as a little girl, but I think when I made her and all her siblings, she became slightly younger. For context she’s around 3-4. So she’s probably a lot smaller, but I can’t really indicate that without her getting too small to draw. But she’s small enough that any one of them, even Ube Roll, can pick her up with one hand. Also she has a little cardboard tube (a flimsy one) because she likes to smack literally everything in her radius, and Dark Choco and Lava Fudge thought it was the best way to make sure she doesn’t get hurt doing it, or that she cause too much damage to the things she smacks. She can upgrade to a proper weapon once she’s older and stops hitting everything

Anyways I’m bleeding into the character section, so let’s move on to Lava Fudge. So his hair is supposed to be like the molten chocolate in the center of the cake, so it’s all liquid-y. It was originally going to look more like Yam’s dreads but chocolate, but after sketching I thought of the other idea and chose that instead. I put in the red highlights because of the whole “lava” thing. Probably should have shown that more in the other colors now that I think about it. I’m not sure why I made his armor that color, but that’s what I went with. I gave him an axe because I thought it was the best compromise between Dark Choco’s greatsword and Purple Yam’s mace. Also my first time drawing an axe, I’m realizing now that I haven’t really seen any Cookies wielding axes in these games, other than Tea Knight in his other outfit, which I used as a reference for Lava Fudge. Oh and another thing I wanted to mention, so Lava Fudge is supposed to be huge, my notes call him an “absolute unit”. He’s taller than even Dark Cacao, and as you can tell, much wider, as I gave him a body type like Yam’s. He’s the first one of these I’ve made with a particularly large frame, and I think it was a good change of pace. Though I admit with the armor, it looks like he has a small waist. Not my intention

Then with Ube Roll, so despite the name her hair’s more based on Dark Choco and Dark Cacao. I also wanted to make her thinner just because I thought that I needed that variation. Also probably because I was suggested to name Violet Sugar Cookie Ube Roll, and maybe some of her design subconsciously went into her. Anyways so she’s also supposed to be a magic user, hence the book in her hand (used Prune Juice as a reference for that), and I kind of wanted to reflect that in her outfit, with it being more cloth than armor. I also thought it’d be fun to give her shoulder pads and a cape like Dark Choco, and I think I used his Young Prince Outfit as my main model. I also gave her a sword since she’d obviously still use a weapon, even if she’s learning magic, though I made it smaller since her skills aren’t entirely strength reliant. I think I might have planned to put more red in her design, but I’m fine with keeping it mostly purple, I think it looks good

Oh yeah also regarding the things on their face, none of them are scars, they’re just markings like Purple Yam. They have them elsewhere in their body too. I just assume it’s a natural thing for him and thought it would be neat to incorporate. Though I admit Choco Vine’s were a last minute addition

So now onto their characters

So I half mentioned Choco Vine’s personality already, but basically she’s a tiny child with far too much energy. She idolizes her dads and older brother and wants to be a warrior like them, hence why she tries to pretend being a warrior with her little tube. Though she may be misinterpreting the role and she just hits literally everything. If you are in her radius, steel your legs because she will swing at them, possibly more than once. Everyone just goes with it since I mean, she’s a little kid, let her have her fun. And with the flimsy tube, no one’s really getting hurt by it. She will smack her family repeatedly and it doesn’t even faze them (which is part of the reason she continues to do it, as if she saw it really did hurt them, she’d probably stop), though on occasion they’ll play along and act as if they’ve been defeated by her attacks, meaning she’s defeated the enemy

I’m also toying with the idea that Choco Vine is actually blind, and the reason she’s always hitting things with her tube is that this is her way of figuring out the world around her. Not sure if I should keep it though

Another, somewhat funny idea I had was this idea of her getting kidnapped by the Cookies of Darkness (though for this to happen there’d have to be some timeline altering, namely that Choco Vine is baked much earlier in the timeline and is already out and about within at most a couple years of the main plot of Kingdom), only for her to be their undoing as she keeps hitting them with her tube. While I said it doesn’t hurt, to be fair the people she’s likely surrounded with are those of the Dark Cacao Kingdom, where everyone has at least some warrior training and conditioning to the harsh elements; what’s a flimsy piece of cardboard going to do? With these guys though, with the exceptions of Red Velvet and probably Choco Werehound Brute, they aren’t as immune, so her constant hits to the kneecaps do genuinely hurt, and she doesn’t care if they do because they’re villains. And so by the time her parents come to the rescue, she’s basically single-handedly taken down the Cookies of Darkness. Made even worse if in her excursion in the place, she found an actual weapon (which I feel is somewhat likely), in which they would all be screwed

Oh yeah I forgot there were others to talk about, not just her. Okay then, moving on

So Lava Fudge is probably the most cautious of the family. I tried to show that with his eyes but I’m not sure that got across. If someone wants to fight, he tries to convince the other to just talk it out and not have to fight, as he’d much rather use words to avoid unnecessary fights. This also translates to him being the voice of reason amongst his siblings, even if they don’t always listen, as his main concern is that they’re all safe. The way he acts may lead you to think he’s not a very good fighter. However, this is most certainly not the case, as he is an incredibly powerful fighter, and destructive one at that. When his axe hits the ground, it splits open the earth and even lava pours out from the cracks, even in places like the Dark Cacao Kingdom. No one’s sure how he’s so powerful, but they choose not to question it too much, given his grandfather is one of the Ancient Heroes, and the one most know for physical prowess. Most likely you will not win the fight, and possibly not survive it, as he is relentless in his attacks. He just likes to be cautious because again, he wants to avoid unnecessary fights. And he just has a relatively kind heart. But also, if you hurt one of his sisters, physically or emotionally, there will be no mercy for you. I think laying it out, he’s sort of like ROTTMNT Raphael

I’m not too sure what he does, given the armor doesn’t resemble anything from the Dark Cacao Kingdom, but maybe he’s part of a guild or something, going around helping others in need

As for Ube Roll, like I said, she’s a magic user. She started out learning swords and physical fighting like the rest of her family, but she later took an interest in magic and has since been studying it. She probably studied at Parfaedia, if she doesn’t go there now. I was thinking her magic would be like, purple flames, but I’m also considering it being ice or earth based. Maybe she has multiple. However her magic doesn’t mean she won’t still use her sword if need be. She’s probably also the most socially adept of the family, given her general vibe

Sorry I don’t have too much to say about Ube Roll in company to her siblings, since they were the ones I put the most thought into

But yeah, I think that’s about it for them, and I hope you enjoy them (and can maybe also forgive me for not posting more this week)

Oh yeah, so one more thing, so I have a request for Dark Choco/Milk, and spoilers but there I’m giving them twins, since there were two very easy ideas to go with that worked together. If this trio were to be a polycule and there also be a Purple Yam/Milk kid (hopefully I’m thinking just one), than that would mean they’d have at least 6 children, dear lord

[sodastereos]

i wish my sister didnt have to put me down to feel better about herself

[melanielocke]

Lost in the Shadows - Chapter 19

AO3

Taglist: @nott-the-best @foxglove-airmid @alastair-esfandiyar-carstairs1 @justanormaldemon @styxdrawings @ipromiseiwillwrite @a-dream-dirty-and-bruised

Previous Chapter: Chapter 18

Next Chapter: Chapter 20

Cordelia and Lucie returned to the lake when Cordelia was finally done training. She looked forward to going for a swim and cool down a little, training all afternoon in the heat might not have been the best idea ever, and she understood Lucie had given up on practicing magic sooner. She had no idea how exhausting it was to open a portal. It looked like Lucie simply asking for favors, but Cordelia expected it was exhausting in its own way, different from swinging a sword. The last time she’d even seen shadows gather around Lucie, although she didn’t think Lucie herself had seen anything. It made Cordelia wonder how her magic worked. Did the darkness come from inside of her? Or did it come from everywhere, finding its way to Lucie? And could it be dangerous? What if such power corrupted people?

It wasn’t that surprising magic tired her though. Alastair’s ability could exhaust him too. As far as Cordelia knew he was always tired, and she wondered if his memory had anything to do with that.

Alastair and Thomas were already there, they’d swum all the way to the island. Cordelia didn’t think Alastair had swum in some time. Cordelia hadn’t either before coming here, mostly because she had struggled so much with finding swimwear she liked that also fit. Boys had it easy when it came to finding swimwear, she thought to herself. All they needed was find a pair of swim shorts that fit around their waist, whereas Cordelia needed a top that fit properly and a bottom that was high waisted enough for her to feel comfortable. She knew it was stupid, but she didn’t like wearing something that bared her stomach. She did enjoy swimming though, now that she could.

They returned just in time for dinner, and Lucie changed into her lounge clothes, which consisted of a very large and long Green Day shirt she wore as a dress, tucked in the waist with a black lint she’d tied into a bow at her side.

‘I’d been wondering where that shirt had gone,’ Thomas said when he saw her.

Cordelia loved that Lucie could look so good in a shirt that apparently belonged to Thomas and was supposed to fit him.

‘I think I asked you if I could borrow it,’ Lucie said.

‘I don’t remember that,’ Thomas said.

‘It was several months ago, so that could be why you don’t remember.’

‘Are you going to give it back at some point?’ Thomas asked.

Lucie shrugged. ‘Maybe,’ she said.

Thomas sighed. ‘At least Barbara has a boyfriend she can steal clothes from now. Sometimes I feel like my closet is a free for all.’

Cordelia didn’t think Alastair was the type to steal Thomas’ clothes, he always dressed in well fitting clothes, eager to impress. She guessed Thomas’ shirts and sweaters had to be comfortable, but Cordelia didn’t like to wear clothes that were baggy and oversized. Cordelia always felt like they made her look much bigger, and being both muscular and chubby had caused some issues with her body image.

Thomas returned to his parents after dinner, and Alastair went to his room. Cordelia followed him upstairs while Lucie was writing. She’d been meaning to talk to him.

Alastair was cleaning up in his room. She didn’t think it could get any cleaner, yet here Alastair was, carefully rearranging his bed.

‘Did you want to ask something?’ he asked without looking up from changing the bed sheets.

‘I did, can I come in?’

‘Sure, but give me a moment to finish this. Thomas is coming to sleep over tonight,’ Alastair said, ‘I figured I’d change the bed sheets and add an extra pillow.’

‘That’s sweet of him,’ Cordelia said.

‘It is. Thomas said he wanted to protect me from nightmares. I don’t think that’ll work but I’m learning to feel safe around him.’

Cordelia knew to Alastair, a sense of safety was hard to come by. He’d been unsafe for so long he struggled to recognize when he was safe and loved. They’d been working on that together, Cordelia trying to figure out the best ways to support him and make him feel safe, ways to help him through flashbacks and panic attacks. It had taken some time, but Alastair had slowly started trusting her with his feelings.

‘What did you want to talk about?’ Alastair asked.

‘I think I’m in love with Lucie,’ she confessed.

Cordelia had been close to Lucie for a long time, she struggled to tell the difference between their friendship and falling in love, but lately she’d started to suspect what she felt was romantic love.

Alastair grinned. ‘Well, that means your taste in women is decidedly better than your taste in men. Do you think she likes you?’

‘I don’t know. I know she likes girls, but I’m not sure she likes me.’

‘Isn’t her story about you titled the Beautiful Cordelia?’ Alastair asked.

Cordelia tilted her head. ‘Yes, but I think that’s not so uncommon. I mean, she started writing that story when she was twelve and lots of twelve year old girls write main characters who are constantly described as being exceedingly beautiful and perfect and courageous.’

‘But aren’t many of those characters an idealized version of the author themselves?’ Alastair asked. ‘Lots of twelve year old girls are insecure about how they look and some write themselves as how they wished they looked.’

Cordelia had definitely been insecure, and she knew Alastair was still insecure about his dark features. She often made fun of his dyed blonde hair, which he’d thankfully died back to black, but she knew it was because Alastair was insecure about how he looked as a brown man. His hair was one of the few things about his appearance he could change.

Cordelia had too, she’d been insecure about her brown skin and dark eyes, she’d believed her red hair, a very uncommon feature for an Iranian girl, was the best part about her appearance. But Lucie’s story had dedicated pages to describing the beauty of Cordelia’s brown skin and dark eyes, and Cordelia had read many books written by women of color where girls were celebrated for their brown skin and dark hair and eyes. And she’d read books about fat or mid sized girls written by fat authors where their bodies were celebrated or just not that important in the long run, which had helped Cordelia feel less insecure about her body

‘Lots of twelve year old girls describe their main characters as so skinny people thought they had an eating disorder, but you know that although it’s written in a negative light, it’s supposed to be a compliment,’ Cordelia said. ‘You’re probably right, that the authors wanted to be thinner and therefore wrote their characters that way.’

At twelve, she’d gravitated towards stories with those main characters, because of her own insecurity. At that age she’d barely been able to read books with a fat main character. Of course, most fat girls in books back then hated themselves and could only have a happy ending after losing weight, but Cordelia suspected back then she would not have been able to appreciate books about fat girls loving themselves as she could now. Even though at twelve years old, Cordelia hadn’t even been fat.

‘But Lucie didn’t write an idealized version of herself,’ Alastair said. ‘She wrote about you.’

‘There was a side character called princess Lucinda, who was the fictional version of Lucie,’ Cordelia said. ‘But when it came to descriptions of how characters looked, Cordelia was always the most beautiful girl around and everyone fell in love with her at first sight. And I mean literally everyone.’

‘The obvious explanation would be that she likes you,’ Alastair said.

‘She didn’t realize she liked girls until recently,’ Cordelia said. ‘She started writing the beautiful Cordeliayears ago.’

‘She might not have realized she liked you,’ Alastair said. ‘I’ve never read much from the story, but from what did read, I cannot think of another explanation for this.’

Cordelia had to admit her brother had a point. Still, she was nervous when she returned downstairs to Lucie, who was still writing. She looked up when Cordelia sat down next to her with a book.

‘I introduced Mabel,’ Lucie said. ‘Eloise just fell asleep and woke in the dreamworld, and is trying to figure out where she is and how to get out, and although she doesn’t trust or understand Mabel, they are forced to work together. And Mabel at this point thinks Eloise is just a conceited rich girl. So a bit like Pride and Prejudice.’

Cordelia wondered if she was anything like Mabel and if Eloise was anything like Lucie. Or perhaps the other way around, she wasn’t too familiar with either character yet.

‘I like Pride and Prejudice,’ Cordelia said. ‘So they go from being enemies to being in love?’

‘Not enemies in the sense that they’re on opposite sides or anything, but they do strongly dislike each other at first, which will slowly develop to grudging respect to genuine respect to friendship to I would die for you. It’s a fun dynamic, but difficult to write and space out. And of course Eloise is in the dreamland the whole time, whereas Mabel is only there at night when she’s sleeping.’

‘So, if Mabel can talk to Eloise while they’re asleep and she also wakes up into the real world, could she serve as a line of communication between Eloise and her family?’ Cordelia asked.

Lucie’s eyes lit up. ‘Of course, that’s an excellent idea. Now the first time Mabel visits Eloise’ house, her family doesn’t listen to Mabel, which reinforces her negative beliefs about Eloise, but eventually she gives in and tries again and tells them something only Eloise could have told her and then the family does begin to trust her.’

‘How exhausted does Mabel get from all this?’ Cordelia said. ‘Since she gets to adventure in her sleep?’

‘Well, the adventuring in her sleep does count as sleep,’ Lucie said. ‘But you have a point, it would probably be less restful than normal sleep. Perhaps Eloise’s family can take her in and provide for her family so she can get enough rest to visit the dreamland.’

‘What do your characters look like?’ Cordelia asked. ‘I’m thinking about drawing them for you.’

Cordelia hadn’t drawn in some time, but had brought some art supplies with her. She wasn’t particularly talented, but decent when it came to drawing Lucie’s characters, although she still struggled with drawing men.

‘Oh that would be fantastic,’ Lucie said. ‘I always like to have something to visualize, but I can’t draw a straight line. Alright, so Mabel is from a poor family, and works in a factory to support her family, so she’s going to look a bit dirty and stained. She has dirty blonde hair and brown eyes and freckles and is a little underweight because she struggles to feed herself and her mother and younger siblings.

Eloise on the other hand is from a wealthy family, although her mother was poor, and she wears fancier clothes like the dress Jessamine wears. She has dark brown hair and gray eyes and because she always had enough food and likes sweets, she is fat.

Maybe Mabel judges Eloise for her weight at first, because Mabel is poor herself but I’m thinking that might not go over well to a modern audience.’

Cordelia tilted her head. ‘Maybe not. But it’s nice to have a fat main character, I don’t think there are enough of those.’

Nor were there enough queer main characters, women of color main characters, the list could go on. Cordelia often wished she could see herself more in books, and Lucie understood that. Lucie often recommended her books based on what she was looking for.

‘Yes, exactly,’ Lucie said. ‘And it gives me an opportunity to write away any insecurities I have about gaining weight. One of the great benefits of stealing Thomas’ clothes is that it rarely happens that they suddenly don’t fit anymore.’

Lucie had told her she’d gained some weight over the past year, but as it had happened slowly, Cordelia found it difficult to tell the difference. She and Thomas used to have eating contests together, which was a bit of an odd hobby but both seemed to enjoy it, and Lucie was probably the only one who stood a chance against Thomas, but ever since gaining weight she’d gotten too insecure about it.

Cordelia thought Lucie would look good at any size, and hated how being taught to be insecure had made her give up on a weird but fun hobby.

‘That sounds like a good idea,’ Cordelia said. ‘I’m going to get my art supplies and get started.’

***

Alastair and Thomas were in Alastair’s bed together, in each other’s arms. It was nice, warm, comfortable, Thomas asking every now and then if it was still okay, if he wanted to be kissed, if certain parts of his body were alright for him to touch. Alastair didn’t think he’d ever get enough of this. Thomas’ arms were firm and strong and applied just enough pressure to his body to be comforting.

He was whispering to Thomas in Farsi, terms of endearments he had not imagined using for someone else after Charles.

‘What is it you’re saying?’ Thomas asked. ‘Is that Farsi?’

‘It is,’ Alastair said.

‘What were you saying?’ Thomas asked. ‘Lucie and I tried to learn Farsi for Cordelia, but so far we only learnt a few phrases and my accent is probably terrible.’

‘Likely,’ Alastair agreed, ‘but it’s nice that you’re learning. I could help you.’

Charles had never cared much for his language, or his culture. Of course, at the time Alastair had tried to distance himself from his heritage, all too aware how people treated him for it. He’d thought people would accept him better that way. After all, people often claimed foreigners should adapt to the dominant culture. He knew better now, and loved that Thomas showed an interest in the language.

‘That would be amazing. You are fluent, aren’t you?’

‘My mother mostly spoke Farsi with us at home, and aunt Risa still struggles with English. She understands everything you say, but cannot express herself well enough to feel comfortable, so we always speak Farsi with her. So I’d say Cordelia and I are fluent, yes.’

‘So, what were you just saying for me?’

‘Kharâbetam. I am ruined for you. Nooré cheshm-am. The light of my eyes. Ãtashé del-am. The fire of my heart.’

‘Wow. That all sounds so romantic,’ Thomas said.

‘Farsi endearments can be dramatic, but I like that,’ Alastair said.

‘I’ll try to learn some of those,’ Thomas promised. ‘Learning the language will undoubtedly be easier with a native speaker around.’

Thomas started kissing him again, wrapping his arms around Alastair, still checking if everything was alright. He threw in some terms of endearments of his own, phrases Alastair did not understand, but recognized as Spanish. He remembered Thomas saying his father often spoke Spanish around the house and Thomas was fluent himself. Alastair wasn’t sure what exactly Thomas was saying, but it sounded sweet.

He started to wonder if Thomas wanted to move things along. Part of Alastair wanted to, part of him was scared. Truth to be told, he wasn’t sure what he wanted, and he’d much rather follow Thomas’ lead.

He didn’t realize what was happening at first. Thomas, apparently, did long to move things along, and asked if it would be alright to take off some clothes. Alastair said yes, even if part of him was still scared. It would be fine, he told himself. This was Thomas, who loved him and would stop if Alastair asked him to.

And at first it was amazing. Alastair gently traced the stretch marks on Thomas’ back with his fingers. It must have been hard on the body, to grow so much in only a few years. Thomas used to be so small… He didn’t feel like it was going too fast, he was taking his time admiring Thomas.

And Thomas was still sweet as always, asking what was alright. Alastair said yes to everything. He wanted Thomas, wanted to find out what it could be like with someone who cared for him. But the more intimate their kissing, their exploring each other’s bodies became, the more Alastair was reminded of previous times he’d done this. Stop, he told himself. This wasn’t like it was with Charles. This was Thomas and he was sweet and perfect and would never do anything Alastair wasn’t comfortable with. But he fell back into the memory anyway. It wasn’t real, he told himself. He was here with Thomas, but he couldn’t feel Thomas anymore. Instead, he was with Charles, and he was scared and uncomfortable, but didn’t dare say anything because what if Charles would abandon him? It wasn’t real, he told himself. He’d done something wrong, he felt, Charles had been upset with him most of the evening and Alastair didn’t know why. He couldn’t figure what he’d done wrong, and at the time he’d thought it reasonable to make it up to Charles like this, pushing himself despite his fear and discomfort. Doing whatever he asked for because he’d clearly done something wrong and he wanted to show Charles he loved him. Now Alastair felt shame for allowing all this to happen. He felt Charles’ hands on him, and yelled at him to stop but it was a memory and in the past Alastair had never asked him to stop. There was nothing he could do now, nothing to change the past. In the distance, he heard a voice calling to him. It wasn’t real, he reminded himself. He wasn’t with Charles, he’d done nothing wrong, and he had nothing to make up for.

‘Alastair, are you alright?’

‘Get away from me!’ Alastair yelled and he wasn’t sure if it was directed at Thomas or Charles or both of them.

‘Alastair, what do you need me to do?’

Thomas sounded like he was freaking out, but he was still there. It wasn’t real, he reminded himself. Thomas was real. His bedroom was real. He felt something in his arms, something soft and hairy. He focused on that sensation, stroking the soft thing. Alastair had always had a fondness for soft things, his hedgehog, nice blankets. He loved how it felt under his fingers, how it could put him at ease to stroke his hand over something soft. It was his hedgehog, he realized. Thomas had found Mr. Prickly somewhere between the sheets and shoved it into his arms. It was something to focus on. He held Mr. Prickly against him, stroking it gently, focusing on the sensation underneath his fingers. This was real. He could see the hedgehog. Could see Thomas, asking him to breathe, talking to him.

‘Don’t panic,’ Alastair told Thomas as he sat upright, hedgehog in his lap.

Part of him was tempted to send Thomas away, to not let him see Alastair like this. He wanted to yell at him to get out of here and retreat into his protective shell, but what would be the point? Thomas had already seen the worst, nothing to be done about that now. Besides, it would be rude to expect Thomas to sleep on the couch or go back to his parents at this hour. This was a bad idea. He tried to breathe, keeping all his attention on Mr. Prickly. Perhaps he should give trust a try, he told himself. Perhaps he and Thomas could work through this. He knew it was unlikely, but Alastair forced himself to at least give it a try.

‘I’m not panicking,’ Thomas protested. ‘I just really didn’t know what to do. I don’t want to hurt you.’

‘This was a good move though,’ Alastair said, cradling Mr. Prickly against him.

‘What happened?’ Thomas asked. ‘Did I do something wrong?’

Alastair sighed, how long until Thomas would give up? He wanted to take this further, he wanted to be able to have sex with Thomas without it reminding him of past times. He was older now, and although he was still scared he also wanted to have sex. And Thomas deserved it, deserved a partner who could satisfy him. Alastair wasn’t so sure he could.

‘It’s not you, eshgham,’ he said slowly. None of this was Thomas’ fault. It was his, for being too broken to be a good lover. ‘You know I have these flashbacks, right?’

‘Yes, I do. Did I do something to trigger a flashback?’

‘I didn’t realize it would happen,’ Alastair said. ‘I thought I was ready. I wanted to sleep with you. But then something reminded me of him, and I fell into a memory. I’m sorry.’

‘It’s nothing to be sorry for. I just don’t want to hurt you,’ Thomas said.

‘I do not always know what will happen,’ Alastair said. ‘One thing that helped me greatly in therapy is learning to identify triggers. Alcohol is an obvious one, of course. But because of Charles, intimacy is also difficult. I thought it would be alright. I was a little nervous, but I also really wanted it.’

‘It’s alright to wait,’ Thomas said. ‘As long as you need. We haven’t even been together that long, and I’m fine just cuddling. If that’s still alright. Honestly the idea of having sex makes me nervous too. You know, since I’ve never done it.’

Alastair could still see a hint of disappointment on Thomas’ face, but right now he just couldn’t. He was so tired, he didn’t think he’d ever feel rested again. He’d had a long day, he reminded himself.

‘You know what, maybe we should go outside,’ Thomas said.

Alastair frowned. ‘Outside?’

What did Thomas have in mind? Cuddling outside in the grass? Alastair imagined it would be cold.

‘I like watching the stars,’ Thomas admitted. ‘When I was young and so sick I had to stay in the hospital, Barbara gifted me some books by Stephen Hawking. Children’s books he’d written with his daughter, not the complicated ones. I had a bit of an obsession with the galaxy then because of these books. It’s very calming, so maybe it’ll help you.’

‘So, you want to watch the stars with me?’ Alastair asked.

‘I could point them all out to you,’ Thomas said. ‘If you like that, I mean. London is too light for stargazing, there’s nothing to see, but here that’s not the case and the sky is very clear tonight. Not a cloud to be seen. Unless you’d rather go to sleep?’

‘I’m not sure I’d be able to fall asleep right now.’

Alastair reluctantly followed Thomas. Will and Tessa were still downstairs, both reading as they often did.

‘We’re going to watch the stars,’ Thomas announced.

Will looked up from his book. ‘Well, enjoy. Don’t stay out too long, it’s cold outside.’

Will was right, it was cold outside. Alastair wished he’d worn something warmer than his pajamas. They sat down on the garden lounge set, Alastair finding a comfortable position sitting in between Thomas’ legs in front of him, laying back against his chest with Thomas’ arms around him. He was exhausted, flashbacks always did that even if he was still too alert to fall asleep. Perhaps after a while he’d doze off here, leaning against Thomas.

‘Do you know how to find the polar star?’ Thomas asked.

‘I’ve heard it had something to do with the bear constellation?’ Alastair asked.

He’d read about this ages ago, but stars had never been a particular interest of his even if he’d had many unusual interests in his youth. He’d read a few things here and there, but barely remembered anything.

‘Yes. That there’s the big bear.’

Alastair tried to look where Thomas was pointing, which was difficult, but he recognized the saucepan shape of the big bear constellation. He’d long been confused why it was called a bear when it clearly resembled a pan or a ladle more, but later he’d learnt there were actually more stars to the constellation, the pan shape was just the brightest.

‘Now you must follow the two stars at the side of the pan shape, into that direction and there’s ursa minor. Although ursa minor doesn’t really look like a bear, it just looks like a smaller version of the saucepan.’

Alastair had to look for a while, but he could find the constellation Thomas described.

‘Now, the end of the pan, that’s Polaris,’ Thomas said proudly. ‘True north. So, if you ever get lost at sea, you now know how to navigate.’

‘If I get lost at sea, I’d probably die of other causes first,’ Alastair said. ‘Dehydration would be the obvious choice.’

‘I guess that’s true. But if you’re lost at sea with a huge supply of water and food that won’t go to waste, then it might be nice to actually know how to navigate.’

‘You think that’ll happen?’ Alastair asked.

‘Oh, probably not,’ Thomas said. ‘But I’ve always liked the idea of finding my own true north. I’m actually planning to get a tattoo. I haven’t told anyone, I’ve been working up the courage to ask my parents.’

‘What kind?’ Alastair asked.

‘A compass,’ Thomas said. ‘But I was thinking of combining it with a flower, a rose I think. I have made a few sketches, I’ll show you someday.’

‘Where did you want to get it?’ Alastair asked.

‘Just here, on my arm.’

Thomas leaned a bit forward, against Alastair’s back, and showed him a spot on his wrist. Alastair mindlessly traced the spot with his fingers, and he could feel Thomas’ shiver beneath his touch. If a subtle touch on his arm could get such a reaction out of him, what would happen when Alastair was able to move things along and have sex with him? He felt another pang of guilt, at being unable to, at wanting to please his partner yet falling into a memory of a previous partner he’d been desperate to satisfy.

‘It’ll look amazing here,’ Alastair said. ‘Do you think your parents will not approve?’

‘Oh I’m thinking they will, they were supportive when Genie wanted to get her nose pierced at least. I know some parents can be absolutely horrified about their children getting tattoos and piercings.’

‘My mother would probably have a heart attack,’ Alastair agreed. ‘When I was fifteen, she caught me smoking in the windowsill. Let’s just say I did not dare smoke again. Which was probably for the best, because quitting now would have been harder than it was then.’

‘I remember you smoking just outside school,’ Thomas said. ‘Back then I thought it was attractive. Now I’m glad you quit, I really wouldn’t want you to get sick because of it.’

‘I wasn’t really occupied with that at fifteen,’ Alastair admitted. ‘I guess I figured I wouldn’t live long enough to get cancer from smoking anyway. But I also didn’t really have the money to keep buying cigarettes, so there’s that. Smoking is a very expensive pastime. And I could breathe much easier after I’d quit and had far better stamina.’

Alastair wasn’t even sure why he’d liked it back then. Part of it was to fit in, sure, but he’d also smoked at home, hanging out of the window so his room wouldn’t smell. Nowadays he found the scent of cigarettes disgusting and overwhelming and he couldn’t imagine ever smoking again.

Thomas pointed out several more stars and constellations for him. ‘That’s Orion,’ he said. ‘With the brightest star, Sirius. The dog star.’

‘Like in the Black family in Harry Potter,’ Alastair said. ‘Looks like a face with a crooked mouth.’

‘I think J.K. Rowling just pulled out a constellation map when she needed names for Black family members,’ Thomas said. ‘Do you like Harry Potter?’

‘I used to,’ Alastair said. ‘But that was before Rowling’s transphobia became widely known. I understand why some people still like the series and separate it from her, but I heavily associate them with the damage she did to trans people.’

‘Understandable,’ Thomas said. ‘Those books were a great comfort to me as a child. Besides the George’s secret key to the universe series.’

‘What was that about?’

‘Those are the space books I mentioned. It’s about a boy named George, whose new neighbor is a scientist with a daughter around his age. He grows closer to the girl and her father, and discovers he has a super computer that can create portals into space. And then there’s an evil former colleague of the scientist who wants to steal the computer. It was very entertaining, but also educational, explaining the universe and the stars and planets in a way that’s understandable for children. And when I could go back to school I told everyone I’d read a book by Stephen Hawking. Of course, at that age half the children had no idea who that was.’

‘That’s just adorable,’ Alastair grinned. ‘Was your teacher at least impressed?’

‘I think so. I think she did suspect I read his children’s books and not his more serious work, but I could tell the others everything about the stars.’

‘I’m getting very cold,’ Alastair said. ‘And sleepy. I could probably fall asleep right here if I wasn’t so cold.’

‘Oh, am I that comfortable?’

‘Don’t let it rise to your head. I’m going to bed, you coming?’

They returned upstairs, both Will and Tessa were still reading and Alastair wondered how long they would keep that up.

They both found a comfortable way to lie down in the bed, and Alastair found it reassuring that Thomas was still here, even if it was difficult to be near someone. Charles wouldn’t have stayed. Charles would not have helped him through a flashback. Charles would have scolded him for being so emotional and left him alone.

‘Good night,’ Thomas said.

‘Good night.’

Alastair slept peacefully that night. Perhaps it was Thomas, perhaps the hedgehog, or perhaps he was simply too tired to still have nightmares. He didn’t feel rested when he woke up the next morning, but he didn’t feel as tired as yesterday either. Thomas was still asleep, his mouth slightly open, clutching the blanket. Alastair was very glad Thomas didn’t snore. He was quiet in his sleep, breathing softly.

Alastair checked the time, six in the morning. What a useless time to wake up. No one else would be awake yet, but there was no point in going back to sleep either. He remained in bed, not exactly motivated to get out either. When would Thomas wake up? He was an early riser too, but six was a probably a bit too early. Miraculously he did fall asleep for a bit longer, with a hazy dream he did not remember when he woke up. Seven thirty, which meant he’d gotten another hour and a half of sleep.

Thomas woke around eight, and Alastair was still in bed, contemplating getting up to make breakfast.

‘Did you sleep well?’ Thomas asked, yawning.

‘Well enough,’ Alastair said. He didn’t usually fall back asleep after waking up around six, and had slept about as well as he could. He was still tired though, which didn’t surprise him after yesterday, and unmotivated to get out of bed.

‘I thought so. I woke at some point in the middle of the night and you seemed so peaceful.’

‘I have been told I am very still when I don’t have nightmares,’ Alastair said. ‘When Cordelia and I shared a room, she once thought I might be dead in the middle of the night when I was just sleeping.’

Of course, at the time Cordelia hadn’t quite understood his mental illness yet and feared he might be suicidal. She’s panicked and woken him up to make sure he wasn’t dead, and Alastair had assured her he had no intention of leaving her alone.

‘I didn’t think you were dead,’ Thomas said. ‘Just at peace for a change. So, do you feel rested?’

‘As I said, I never feel rested,’ Alastair said. ‘But I feel like I can face the day, and that’s good enough.’

‘Maybe someday,’ Thomas said. ‘I liked sleeping next to you and I do feel rested.’

Alastair groaned. ‘Of course you do. So, if you have an endless supply of energy for the day, you would have no issue making me breakfast.’

‘For sure,’ Thomas said to Alastair’s surprise and he got out of bed. ‘Do you want toast? ’

‘And coffee,’ Alastair said.

‘Maybe you would be less tired without the coffee,’ Thomas said.

Alastair frowned. ‘What are you talking about, coffee is what keeps me alive.’

‘Yes, but frequently drinking coffee builds tolerance. Drinking lots of coffee regularly won’t make you more energetic, it only makes you more tired when you don’t drink coffee.’

Alastair fell back onto the bed. ‘I still want coffee,’ he said, not willing to give in and admit Thomas was right.

‘Alright, coffee it is,’ Thomas said and he changed out of his pajamas.

Alastair took his time to admire the view until Thomas put on his shirt. He still found it hard to believe that this Thomas was the same small boy who’d followed him around years ago.

He didn’t get out of bed until Thomas returned to announce he’d made breakfast. Part of Alastair had still expected him to only make his own breakfast, but when Alastair was dressed and entered the kitchen, there was a cup of coffee and some toast with jam finished.

Thomas was sipping from a cup of English tea. ‘Do you want milk or sugar in your coffee?’

‘No,’ Alastair said. ‘I just drink it black.’

‘I’ve never liked coffee,’ Thomas said. ‘I think it tastes terrible.’

‘It does taste terrible. It’s supposed to be terrible. But at this point I’ve drunk so much coffee that I tolerate the taste. I need it for energy.’

‘I prefer tea myself.’

‘That’s not tea,’ Alastair said. ‘That’s an abomination.’

Thomas stared at him.

‘Wait until I introduce you to my mother,’ Alastair said. ‘She makes the best rose tea you’ve ever tasted. You’ll never drink that stuff again.’

‘Rose tea?’ Thomas said.

‘It is common in Iran to add rose petals when making tea. Tea is a very popular drink, and my mother is very precise on how she makes her tea,’ Alastair explained. ‘Just tell her you like her tea and she’ll adore you.’

‘That’s good to know,’ Thomas said before taking another sip of his English tea.

‘Risa is more critical though,’ Alastair added. ‘She might not be so impressed.’

When Cordelia had dated James, his mother had instantly adored James because he was polite and loved her tea. Risa had not been impressed at all and had not been afraid to let it show. All English people were polite after all and it was often only a façade. Alastair hoped she would treat Thomas better.

‘Maybe we should work on your Farsi before meeting Risa,’ Alastair added. ‘If you speak Farsi with her she’ll probably like you.’

‘That sounds promising,’ Thomas said.

‘You’re up early,’ said a sleepy voice.

Cordelia was still wearing her pajamas, her red hair tangled and messy.

‘As you well know, I’m always up early,’ Alastair said.

Cordelia nodded. ‘Are you ready to go find a selkie skin?’

[kaepop-trash]

IM SHOOK? SHAKEN? CHANGED??:&:9 PUSH AND PULL IS SO GOOD??:&:@; AAAA. I LOVE YOUR WORK.. LITERALLY OBSESSED ... i was wondering if it had a part 2 BUT THE CLIFF HANGER .. GOD INSANITY.. UR SUCH A GOOD WRITER AAAAA

There was a time when I had considered writing another part for it, but truly there was just one scene I really wanted to write. When I saw this, I felt compelled to write it. Consider it an apology for the cliff hanger I left the fic on. Not that this is any better.

I was intrigued by this dynamic when I wrote this fic and I continue to be even now. So consider this more self-gratification than anything else. Nonetheless, I hope you enjoy it.

Tw: unhealthy relationship dynamic, hints of obsession and violence if you squint.

_

This was strange. She was allowed to think that. The restaurant was a good one, she was dressed as well as she always was.

Kim Doyoung was in a white shirt and dark jeans. His eyes were focused on the menu in his hand, brows stitch together in concentration. The other hand ran through his hair, an honest effort to push it out of his face. But it was long and fell over his eyes just as soon as he let it go, the only difference being a few strands that stuck up.

She looked down at her fingers, nails now cleaned of the blood from his scalp. He had very soft hair too, she could remember the feel of it against her palm. She could remember the other parts too.

"Have you decided what you want?" His voice made her look up. He was watching her with careful calculation, the gaze of a panther assessing his prey. He was a fool to think she wasn't herself a predator.

"Sure." She slapped the menu close, the sound sudden and loud.

He just nodded, "Okay." His eyes coloured with amusement. She clenched her fist tight, impatient and irritated. "Are you usually this quiet?" He sat back in his seat.

"I speak when I want to, Mr. Kim." Her voice was curt.

He gave her a heinous smirk, "I had my tongue in your cunt, (Y/N). You can call me Doyoung." He reached for his glass of water.

His words made her shift in her chair. Her body reacting against her will was what made the last thread of courtesy snap.

"Other people have done more than that. Physical intimacy isn't grounds for familiarity, not with me." She settled back into her chair. When his jaw flexed, she smiled. At least now they were both annoyed.

"What is grounds for familiarity with you?" His voice was sharper, gaze narrower.

"Why do you care, Mr. Kim?" She snapped. "I'm not interested in being familiar with you."

"Why not?" He furrowed his brows.

"I'm not interested in being familiar with anyone." It was the first honest thing she'd spoken in a while.

"Scared?" He looked intrigued.

"Indifferent." Her frown twisted further.

He hummed, considering her words. "I could make a compelling case."

"It would be a wasted effort. I'm sure you'll find someone more suited to your demands elsewhere." She reached for her glass of water, confused and displeased by the way this was going.

Yet a part of her clawed with intrigue, wanting to know why he was seemingly undeterred. It stopped her from walking out the door, "Can we order?" She questioned. He gave her an unbothered smile, nodding in answer. She wanted to pry open his skull if it told her what he was thinking.

"I don't understand why you're being so persistent. I'm not trying to be coy, I'm not interested in anything beyond sex." She told him once the waiter left with their orders.

"We can have sex." He said it like it was a consolation prize, one he only considered in hindsight.

She crossed her arms over her chest, "What do you want, Doyoung?"

He licked his lips, eyes grazing the skin over the low neckline of her dress. "I started a painting the night I first met you. I haven't painted anything in three years." His eyes glazed over at that, clearly not present at the table anymore. "The second time I met you, the image became clearer, I could picture the colours of it." His eyes focused again, honing in on her. Her stomach flipped. "Last night I thought of a different painting I will paint after this." He gave her a look of conviction, "I must get to know you better." It wasn't a question.

"I'm not keen on being used." She brushed it off.

"Being somebody's muse is a privilege, (Y/N)." His tone flares with offense, "It's being immortalised in memory. I want to capture you in between my brushes and commit you to canvas. I want to make you art." He frowned at her, confused by the rejection.

"Privilege?" She laughed, the sound light and melodious. "It sounds to me like I'm the one doing you a favour. It's your privilege, Mr. Kim." She laughed a little more.

"I don't care what you think." His words didn't match the look on his face, "I haven't had inspiration in years. I'm losing my touch. If I don't create, I cease to be." Anger seeped into his eyes, burning bright red.

She sat back in her chair, "What do I get in return?" She couldn't believe that she was actually considering it.

"What do you want, (Y/N)? Other than an artist's devotion."

She scoffed at his words, "Let me display your art. Anywhere, anytime. If you want to use me, I want to be the only person who gets to use your paintings." She saw the gears grinding in his head at her words.

While it would be a good deal to have, a part of her was sure he'd never agree to it. She knew his reputation. Kim Doyoung did not like sharing what was his.

"Fine." It was his lack of hesitation that caught her off-guard. “But I have a single condition instead. It’s not up for argument.”

She nodded, the possibility of having the exclusive right to display the art of one of the most coveted artists alive worth anything he could demand. He smiled like he was aware of that.

“I want you to myself. No other people.” His eyes bore into her, his gaze the most intense thing about his presence. She clenched her fist so tight that her nails dug into the skin, her palm stinging.

She wanted to slap him.

The demand was a clear sign of control over her. She knew artists, knew the extent of their obsessions. She also knew they tended to fade fast.

“Alright, Doyoung.” She bit her lip. “Have your way with me.” Despite herself, she felt her chest stir at her own words.

-

He flicked the light on, the large empty space illuminated with harsh white light. She looked around, the studio mostly empty save for a single canvas that rested against the wall. The smell of paint thinner in the air told her that he had been at it recently. Doyoung stood by the door as she walked towards the piece, the click of her heels echoing in the space.

The canvas was a messy blend of colours: red, orange and white. In the centre of ot sat the outline of a couch. “This is what you made?” She questioned, the perceptive eye of someone acquainted with art observing every detail.

“Don’t like it?” He spoke from across the room.

She focused on the blend of colours; despite the bold mix of red and orange, it was the white strokes that felt aggressive. “It’s confusing.” She shifted her weight between her feet.

She heard his footsteps approach her, “Have you ever felt rage, (Y/N)? Blinding rage that you cannot control? Only channel?” His words bounced off the walls.

“I’m not sure what I did to deserve your rage.” Her voice was softer.

“You seduced me, (Y/N).” His footsteps stopped short of her heel. “You were using every dirty trick one could do it. And you were so blatant about it.” He groaned.

Her lips tugged, “I’m known to go after what I like in the moment.” She swallowed.

“You’re shameless.” He spat the word like an insult. She clenched her jaw, “And it makes me furious that I can’t stop thinking about you.” There was a crack in his calm voice, it made her breath falter for a second.

“You aren’t the first." She scoffed, "You don’t have to be hard on yourself, I know what I’m doing. Your reaction is to be expected.” She tried to keep her voice level, not giving him the priviledge of seeing her own rage. Rage was an admittance of effect and she would not let him see his effect on her.

She gasped when his finger brushed up her thigh. “You don’t know anything about me." He mumbled, still maintaining the last few inches of distance. "I don’t play games, I don’t collect conquests.”

She laughed, her head falling back. He took a step closer, pushing her head to the side to brush his lips over her neck. “I know people, Doyoung. I especially know men. You want to believe you’re complex,” He bit down on the smooth skin, she moaned. “But lust is never complicated. It’s deceptively simple. You’re currently playing a game with me, one you want to win. You just don’t know it, which is your loss because you don’t have a prize in mind.” He licked the skin he just ruined, purring into her throat. He bit down the same place again, harder. She whimpered.

“I know my prize.” His nose brushed up her jaw, his breath heating her skin.

“I’m not a trophy to be acquired.” She took a step back, pressing into his chest.

Doyoung sighed, hand reaching around and tugging on her waist, “Who said I was talking about you?”

She clenched her jaw. “What is it you hope to win then?” His hand brushed up and grabbed her jaw, tilting her head back further.

“Let me show you.” His lips brushed against her cheeks. He gathered her dress in his hands, hitching it higher. “Lift your arms.” He whispered. When she did, he pulled the material off.

His fingers made quick work of the rest of her garments. Once she was completely bare, he turned her around. His smile was deceptively gentle, “Do you enjoy being a whore, (Y/N)?” He took a step back, looking her over with detached scrutiny.

“Very much so.” She stepped out of her underwear. When he looked up with a sharp gaze, it was her turn to give him a sweet smile.

“Will you enjoy being my whore?” He brushed his index finger on his lips. Soft, pretty lips that she made a note to destroy.

“That is to be seen.” She breathed out.

He smiled wide, pointing behind him. “Sit on that sheet.”

She gave him a skeptical look. When he added no further explanation, she did what she was told. She walked up to the large white cloth that lay flat on the floor, ready for whatever he had planned. She bent over, deliberately slow, and took her heels off. Walking over to the centre of the sheet and sitting down, bringing her knees up to her chest. She sat patiently.

“Such a pretty picture you make.” He hummed, walking over to a table littered with paint and brushes. He picked up a few bottles, coming up to stand in front of her. Her heart beat so fast with anticipation that she was certain it was echoing against the walls.

He kneeled in front of her, “Give me your palms.” His eyes stayed on her face, his voice still dispassionate. She lifted her hands and laid them out for him. When he looked down at them, she glanced at his features. Without his dark gaze, his face looked almost delicate. She felt thick liquid on her palm, looking down to see him squeeze blue and green paint on each palm.

He looked up when he finished, “Lust isn’t simple. It’s like being on fire one second and being drowned the next. Put your hands behind you and lean back.” She took in an unsteady breath, sitting back.

The paint squished between her palm when she pressed them on the sheet, coming out from between her fingers. He sat back, unbuttoning his shirt. His eyes didn’t leave hers the entire time.

“Which one of us will drown?” She breathed out, words mixed with soft pants.

He unbuckled his belt, smirking when she squeezed her legs. “That is to be seen.” He repeated her own words back, grabbing her knees to open her legs again. He stood up, pushing his jeans off. Once he did, he squeezed the green paint onto his knees. Her breathing was ragged now, bouncing off the walls and filling the space with the admittance of her eagerness.

He walked around to her back, leaning down. “Sit up.” His voice was lower, and to her victorious realisation, afflicted. When she did, his knees pressed into the small of her back, paint rubbing against her skin. She couldn’t explain why, but the rudimentary action made her moan. He brushed her hair up, tying it up on her head with a tie she didn’t know he had. Everything felt meticulously planned.

He squeezed more paint onto her spine, rubbing it around with precise fingers. He remained unnervingly silent, getting up and coming back around to face her again. “You’re so beautiful.” He gasped.

The words made her smirk, chest heaving with quick breaths. “I know.”

He smirked back, “I’m going to make you divine.” He put his knees on the sheet, the blue and green rubbing together. She stared at the traces, for a moment mesmerised by the mark it left.

She yelped when he grabbed her ankle and tugged her, her wet palms slipping. Her back landed on the sheet, her head stinging a little from the sudden contact. He parted her legs with his knee, she looked up to see him squeeze white paint into his palm. He rubbed his hands together, before using them to hover over her. “You’re going to display the very manifestation of your lust in museums all over the world, (Y/N). We’re going to commodify your sin. That’s my prize.” His hands slid across the sheet and grabbed her waist.

She reached up and grabbed his throat, the smooth white skin tainted blue and green. “It’s going to be our sin, Doyoung.” She dragged her eyes from his eyes to his lips.

“I was under the impression that you didn’t want familiarity.” His hands rubbed white paint up her sides, brushing under her breasts. Both their breathing matched in impatience.

She pulled him closer, resting her lips on his. “If you’re going to immortalise me, I will own you.” She promised. He smiled against her lips, kissing her.

_

Send me an ask about a character from one of my fics in a scenario and I'll write a drabble.

Character from: Push and Pull

[afroherbalism]

"Emma Dupree (1897-1992) was an influential black herbalist from Falkland and Fountain, in Pitt County in North Carolina. She was known locally as “granny woman.”

Because she prays, she brews herbs. Because she brews herbs, she heals. Because she heals, she is the undisputed sage of Pitt County. They say her home remedies can quiet a colicky baby, cure a mean cold and scare lice off a hog.

"All that we see, everything that is growin' in the earth," Emma says, "is healin' to the nation of any kind of disease."

She was the daughter of freed slaves and grew up on the Tar River. She was known for her work with native herbs: Sassafras, white mint, double tansy, rabbit tobacco, maypop, mullein, catnip, horseradish, and silkweed.

Here is an excerpt from an article published shortly after her death:

"From the time she could walk, Emma felt drawn to the land. She would roam the woods, plucking, sniffing, tasting weeds. She grew up that way, collecting the leaves, stems, roots and bark of sweet gum, white mint, mullen, sassafras in her coattail or a tin bucket. She'd tote them back to the farm, rinse them in well water and tie them in bunches to dry. In the backyard, she'd raise a fire under a kettle and boil her herbs to a bubbly froth, then pour it up in brown-necked stone jugs: A white-mint potion for poor circulation; catnip tea for babies with colic; tansy tea - hot or cold - for low blood sugar; mullein tea for a stomach ache. Mixed with molasses or peppermint candy to knock out the bitterness. Her kind of folk medicine dates back centuries. In the 1600s, African slaves brought root-doctor remedies to America. Indians and immigrants had cure-alls, too. In some rural areas, scattered herbalists still practice."

She was born on July 4, 1897, the seventh among 18 siblings, Emma Williams Dupree grew up on the Tar River and was known in her family as "that little medicine thing" because of her early understanding of herbs.

Her parents, Pennia and Noah Williams, were freed slaves farming in Falkland, NC.

She told an interviewer in 1979 that her mother remembered being "on the porch of the old Wooten's farm home when freedom came. She was 16 when Mr. and Mrs. Wooten walked out on that porch and told her she was 'as free as they were, but they loved her just the same.'"

She was married for one year to Ethan Cherry, a farmer. She divorced him and remarried another farmer, Austin Dupree, Jr., who was born in 1892. Emma and Austin moved to Fountain, NC in 1936 and had five children, whose ages in the 1930 U.S. Census are indicated in parentheses: Lucy (12), Herbert (9), John (5), Doris (3), and Mary (1).

They remained married until his death at age 90. She died at home, at 3313 N. Jefferson St, Fountain, on March 12, 1996. She is buried at Saint John's Missionary Baptist Church Cemetery, in Falkland,NC.

Emma Dupree's "garden-grown pharamacy" included sassafras, white mint, double tansy, rabbit tobacco, maypop, mullein, catnip, horseradish, silkweed and other plants from which she made tonics, teas, salves and dried preparations. These were cultivated in her yard and gathered from the banks of the Tar River. She told Karen Baldwin that she grew a special tree in her back yard, which she called her "healing berry tree."

She explained, "Now that tree, I don't know of another name for it, but it's in the old-fashioned Bible and the seed for it came from Rome." She also told Baldwin of being an especially alert baby: "They said I was just looking every which way. And I kept acting and moving and doing things a baby didn't do. And I walked early. I was walking at seven months old, just as good and strong. When I got so I got out doors, I went to work. I was pulling up weeds, biting them, smelling in them, and spitting them out. And folks in them days, they just watched me, watched what I was doing.

Awards and Recognition

In 1984, Dupree was awarded the Brown-Hudson Award by the North Carolina Folklore Society, recognizing her as an individual who contributed significantly to the transmission, appreciation and observance of traditional culture and folk life in North Carolina.

In 1992, Dupree received the North Carolina Heritage Award, lifetime achievement recognition for outstanding traditional artists in North Carolina

NOTE:

Here is a link to a video of Mrs Emma Dupree being interviewed by students of the ECU medical research department. This video is Produced by the office of Health Services Research and Development, School of Medicine, East Carolina University.

It is 40 minutes long.

Link: https://digital.lib.ecu.edu/58575?fbclid=IwAR1e22I8_vRfvzI0nZXDBT8XG7Z-4DgiNykjqsbPD8hoD2Aw8haC2uI8vvo#details

Source;https://digital.lib.ecu.edu/ncpi/view/5581

Source:https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Emma_Dupree

---

Herbalist, 94, Lets Nature Heal

by Paige Williams Feb 20, 1992

Before her came African root doctors and Indian medicine men. People believed their mystical potions could cure body and soul and sometimes they could. Some modern medicines still use herbal derivatives. Few old-time herbalists like Emma are left in North Carolina. Hospitals first forced her kind out of business. Death is finishing the job. Emma Dupree's hanging tough, though, pushing 10 decades. She takes the tonic, see. Drinks it like water. She jumps out of her chair, props fists on her waist and swivels her hips Hula-Hoop style. She holds both hands out flat and squirms her wrinkled fingers all around, crossing and uncrossing, like she's making a million wishes. No arthritis there.

"There's something to that stuff," said her granddaughter, Sandra White.

Joe Exum, town grocer, keeps a Crown Royal bourbon bottle under the front seat of his pickup truck. It holds the slimy remnants of Emma's tonic: oily brown syrup that looks like tobacco spit, stings the nose like paint thinner and tastes like pine tar smells.

"I'd pay $50 for a bottle right now," Exum said. "Two swallers and it'll knock the sore throat right out." He's waiting for Emma to brew another batch. She stewed her last at Christmas. She used to make the tonic right steady, every day almost, the way she learned 80 years ago, when the woods first called her.

Pitt County borders the Pamlico River 80 miles east of Raleigh. Its largest town is Greenville, the county seat, population

44,972. One of its smallest is Fountain, population 445, founded in 1900 on the western rim. Emma Dupree was Emma Williams then, a 3-year-old growing up the daughter of freed slaves on a farm 9 miles east in Falkland, where she was born the Fourth of July, 1897. Emma was the knee baby, second from the youngest of seven girls and four boys, and always hanging on her mama's knee. Early on, Pennia and Noah Williams knew she was nature's child. From the time she could walk, Emma felt drawn to the land.

She would roam the woods, plucking, sniffing, tasting weeds. She grew up that way, collecting the leaves, stems, roots and bark of sweet gum, white mint, mullen, sassafras in her coattail or a tin bucket. She'd tote them back to the farm, rinse them in well water and tie them in bunches to dry. In the backyard, she'd raise a fire under a kettle and boil her herbs to a bubbly froth, then pour it up in brown-necked stone jugs: A white-mint potion for poor circulation; catnip tea for babies with colic; tansy tea - hot or cold - for low blood sugar; mullen tea for a stomach ache. Mixed with molasses or peppermint candy to knock out the bitterness. Her kind of folk medicine dates back centuries. In the 1600s, African slaves brought root-doctor remedies to America. Indians and immigrants had cure-alls, too. In some rural areas, scattered herbalists still practice.

"It's dying out," says Charles Reagan Wilson of the Center for the Study of Southern Culture at the University of Mississippi. "People more and more rely on modern science." Pitt County's got both. Modern medicine and Emma Dupree. Her school was God's school; her classroom, the land. While the other children played, she picked herbs. Sometimes she caught the other children talking about her: "There comes that ol' rovin' gal. Reckon where she goin' now?" Yet they always followed her.

When Emma was about 20, she married Ethan Cherry, a farmer. It lasted about a year. The story goes that Cherry went one wisecrack too far about how many women it takes to satisfy a man. Emma whacked him with a chair. Knocked him out cold. Then she divorced him. "He wasn't no good husband." She married another farmer, Austin Dupree. They moved to Fountain in 1936. Old age killed him in the the early 1970s. He was nearly 90. Of Emma's five children, only Doris, 66, is left. She lives next door to Emma's little white-and-green house on Jefferson Street, a longtime magnet to the afflicted.

Herbs' earthy aroma herbs brewed day and night. Their warm earthy aroma filled the whole house. Emma poured her tonic up in glass vinegar jugs and canning jars and kept it in a pantry off the kitchen. Somebody was always knocking on the front door. Emma would fetch it: "Now you take this with faith because it's not me. I'm just the instrument." She never set a price. People paid what they could, sometimes $5, sometimes $30. "It was a common thing for people to literally be waiting in line," said White, 38, the granddaughter Emma raised. People sought advice, too. They'd bang on the door, pull her aside: "Can I talk to you?" Fountain's own Ann Landers. "You can tell her a problem and she can work it out so it don't seem so bad," White said.

Some, she couldn't help. Once, a young girl dying of leukemia and weary of doctors showed up at Emma's door. Emma suspected it was hopeless. Still, she couldn't say no. She gave her the tonic. "I don't want to make her sound like a saint," White said, "but she tried to help everybody." Emma won't take the credit. "Whatever your talent, whatever you is, you come with it," she said. "When you come into this world, God's done fixed you with what you got to do." To townspeople, she's "Aunt Emma."

In December, they made her grand marshal of the Fountain Christmas parade, all two blocks of it. She waved from the back of the long white limousine borrowed from the local funeral home. Only the best for the sage of Pitt County.

Source:https://www.tulsaworld.com/archives/herbalist-lets-nature-heal/article_3b0e06d1-4af9-5567-93ee-bc4b50d5867f.html

[mysteira6]

FukaFlower - Holding Your Left Hand

~*~*~*~*~

Summary:

She wasn’t gonna let him feel bad for holding his left hand.

Setting: Fukase and Flower are in the same high school grade and are around 17 - 18 years old. Also, they’re already a couple in this one-shot. Read on for fluff, angst and a little sweet moment at the end. ^3^

~*~*~*~*~

Autumn-coloured lamps decorated the streets, surrounding the many stalls by the pathway in a warm-coloured glow. Young adults in ankle-length yukatas and young children with bags of candy and treats in their hands littered the road before them, the small-talk between groups of teens and squeals of delight amongst children filling their ears. Stall owners left and right were hollering customers over, hoping to catch their attention to play their games or buy their fun-coloured snacks.

The white-haired teen blinked at the sight. “Wow,” She muttered. “I know Miku was warning us when she said this year’s carnival would be ‘packed as sardines’, but I wasn’t expecting it to be this… crowded…”

She heard a light-hearted chuckle from the young man standing beside her. “Welp, I guess that’s a lesson learnt,” He said jokingly.

“What lesson?”

As he turned to her, his scarlet right eye sparkled jovially. “That we should actually listen to the ‘popular diva’ instead of assuming that she only talks about rumours,” He noted, another laugh emerging from his mouth.

The thought of that made her narrow her eyes a little. “I’m not so sure about that, Fukase,” She murmured skeptically, shaking her head. “She talks more about gossip than anything remotely useful-”

“But if we had listened to her, then we wouldn’t be caught in this human traffic jam now, wouldn’t we?” The redhead replied, though soon after, he heaved a sigh and shrugged his shoulders sheepishly. “Oh well, we’re here anyway and the night is young, Flower! Hopefully, the crowd will thin out in a bit,”

Despite her initial disappointment of not having a peaceful stroll with him, the optimistic grin on his face was enough to wash her negativity away. Of course he would try to cheer her up like this. After all, this date was his idea, something that he came up with during their lunch hour when all the other students were talking about the upcoming summer festival and how carnivals were being set up in dozens of neighbourhoods. Given that they had just finished their school term, it seemed like a perfect time to start their summer break with a fun little getaway with just the two of them.

Flower puffed in mild annoyance. When Fukase asked her to go to the carnival in their neighbourhood together, she got giddy with excitement as she always was when it came to their dates. That was one of the strangest things about being with him; somehow, he had managed to break down her curt demeanor and unpack her sweet side that very few people saw. All it took was him being a cheerful jokester who not only tried his best to make everyone smile, but also possessed a kind heart to help anyone he could. Funny then, that he would be interested, and eventually fall in love with, a pessimistic girl who was essentially a stoic emotional wall.

Oh well. Life can be that weird sometimes. In fact, what was more weird was that as he talked to her everyday, cracking a joke here and there, Flower found herself becoming more conscious of how she presented herself in front of him. The little things that she barely cared about before gradually took priority in her appearance as he tried everyday to make her smile a little. Smoothing out her skirt and brushing her hair behind her ears were only two of the dozen things that crossed her mind as soon as she heard him talking to her.

Tonight was no exception to her new routine of fussing over her appearance; as soon as she got home, Flower immediately made a beeline for her preppy younger sister, Xin Hua, who was lounging on the sofa and scrolling through the feed on her phone as usual. However, after Flower explained her situation, the cobalt-haired teen quickly placed her phone aside and partook in the giddy excitement that her older sister was feeling. One trip to Sachiko’s yukata gallery and another to Mizki’s hair accessory treasury was enough for the aspiring fashionista to dress her sister up for her special summer date.

“Flower? Flower!” The sight of his bandaged hand waving front of her was enough to snap the short-haired teen back to reality, her violet eyes blinking a few times to readjust her field of vision. “Hey, are you okay?” Fukase asked her, a worried frown inscribed on his lips as he placed a hand on her shoulder.

“O-oh, sorry, I… I’m okay,” She stuttered in embarrassment, slightly ashamed that she spaced out in the middle of nowhere. Her instinctive reaction of looking down whenever she got awkward got her looking at the yukata that Xin Hua had picked for her. It was of a deep violet shade, accompanied by prints of lavender and white coloured cherry-blossoms and outlines of round lanterns scattered across her sleeves and skirt. She had a grape-purple obi tied around her waist to keep her outfit together and Ms Sachiko even gave her complimentary wooden sandals and a hickory-coloured basket for her necessities to complete the ensemble. ‘Cherish your youth’, she had said with a warm smile after Flower had told her the reason for her purchase.

Meanwhile, Fukase chuckled at her quiet response and quietly slid his right hand under her chin, gently lifting her gaze to look at him. There wasn’t an obvious height difference between them (except for a few centimeters that Flower had but Fukase didn’t) but even then, Flower felt rather small under the gaze of his right eye, his left one being concealed under his white eye patch. Having him stand close to her also allowed her to take in his outfit for the night; a muted red yukata with black lines resembling tree branches drawn on its cloth all held together by a thin bright red obi.

“You sure?” He smirked at her like a cheeky devil would, the jokester side of him showing. “You’re blushing, you know,”

His words rooted her to the spot. “No, I am not!”

“Sharp response. I thought you were a kuudere, not a tsundere,”

“I-Does that really matter right now?!”

Her flustered response was met with a fit of laughter from Fukase, his red curls dancing in the air as he shook his head jokingly. “I kid! I kid!” He sang out as he held his hands up as if surrendering. “Please spare me from your silent treatment, Hana-chan~”

She puffed her cheeks. “You’re only lucky that I decided to dress up for tonight and I don’t want to ruin our date,”

“Oh right, I was gonna say,” His expression lit up as he continued. “You look… as pretty as a flower tonight,”

He half-heartedly expected a startled response and was unsurprised when she only snarkily replied: “A pun-related flirt isn’t going to get to me, Fukase,” Of course she’d say something like that.

“Darnnit, that didn’t work as well as I had hoped,” He pretended to be upset for a moment before raising his right hand towards her, cueing the snow-haired girl to blink at him a few times.

“Well anyway,” He began, tilting his head at her cutely. “Now that we’ve been chatting here for a while, I believe it’s about time for us to head down there, yeah?”

She found herself beaming as she accepted his hand. “Yes, let’s,”

~*~*~*~*~

“Come and catch your own kingyo! Only 200 yen to bring one home!”

“Fresh shaved ice and candied apples for sale! Come and get them before they’re gone!”

As their evening continued, the crowd really did grow thinner as most of the younger children were brought home by their parents and some of the teenagers were heading home as well. Since the both of them were night owls on a daily basis, the moon climbing up the sky did not bother them. Fukase’s enthusiasm for them to visit every stall did not falter even as the night went on. Beside him, Flower held tightly to his right hand, a small smile on her face as she witnessed him bring her all around the carnival. She could tell that he was excited for it.

“Are you hungry? We should get some mochi here,”

“I think those pinwheel headbands would look cute on you,”

“Hey, this fruit tea tastes great! Try some!”

Perhaps it was a little selfish for her to say it, but Flower really liked the attention that he was giving her tonight. It wasn’t odd for Fukase to treat her so kindly (he was literally known for being the kindest person for a lot of people) but hearing him talk to her alone made her feel warm and fuzzy inside, a feeling that only he could generate. However, tonight it felt like Fukase’s gentlemanly nature was much more prominent than usual… Was it because they were wearing such fancy clothes?

Whatever the reason was, she didn’t really care about it. After all, who would turn down a kind, pampering boyfriend like him? Even though Flower was slow to understand social norms as a wallflower, she knew enough to recognise that Fukase was kind of spoiling her (not that she was complaining, mind you).

Her train of thought was interrupted when something at a shelf on her left managed to catch her attention, silently motioning her to get closer to the stall with multi-coloured stacks of cans lined up in pyramidal formation behind its counter. She couldn’t take her eyes off one of the prizes at the game stall; a small lavender rabbit with a translucent maroon ribbon wrapped around its neck and a top hat sewn onto its head. Its subtle resemblance to Fukase’s normal outfit was probably what caught her eye.

“Whatcha looking at?” The very person she was thinking about turned his head in the same direction as she was facing, his eyes scanning the game stall for whatever had caught her attention. “Do you see that little rabbit on the shelf?” Flower whispered to him while leaning close to his ear. “It’s kinda cute. I just thought that it looked like you in your coat, doesn’t it?”

The redhead has his eyes trained on the stuffed toy that had caught his girlfriend’s attention. It didn’t take him long to mutter a ‘let’s head over there’ as he brought them both over to the stall, his hand never letting go of her despite her initial surprise. After he forked out some coins for the stall owner, a basket with brightly coloured plastic balls was placed in front of him, the challenge of knocking over all the cans in three hits now laying before him.

“Fukase, you don’t have to do this for me,” The white-haired girl standing behind him said timidly, a bit uneasy that he decided to play this game just for her.

The redhead smiled at her. “But I want to,” He simply said, picking up the first ball from the basket. “Besides, you like that rabbit doll, right?”

“Well, yeah, but-”

“Then just sit tight and watch me win it for you!” He gleefully replied as he aimed for the base of one of the can pyramids before hurling his ball at them, nailing a hit on the cans at the bottom for his first throw. The coloured cans tumbled onto the table with loud clatters and clangs as the pyramid fell, knocking down all the obstacles quickly. He grinned at his victory.

“Wow, you got them all in one shot!” The stall owner commended, lightly clapping her hands to his success. “Congratulations! You’re welcomed to choose any prize you want for winning,”

“Any prize?” Fukase glanced over to her as the lady nodded, her satin pink hair bouncing up and down. He soon turned his eyes back to the little rabbit that Flower had been eyeing this whole time, the smile on his face widening. “Can I have the little rabbit over there? The one of that shelf, please,”

“Sure thing!” She replied as she gently lifted the rabbit doll off the shelf and handed it over to him. “Thank you for playing!” The store owner sang out as Fukase received the doll from her, turning back to his girlfriend. Holding out the lavender rabbit doll in his two hands, he smiled warmly at her. “Ta-da! Here you go, Flower,”

Her face shone as she held the doll in her hands, now able to marvel its cuteness up close. It really did look similar to Fukase in his fancy outfit. “Thank you,” She unknowingly broke into a wide smile as she petted the rabbit’s head the same way she did to Point, Fukase’s pet doll. “It’s really cute…” She giggled.

He grinned at her, a warm feeling washing over him at the sight of Flower’s smile. It never failed to make him smile back at her, or to make his cheeks feel a little warmer than usual. Deep down, he wished she did that all the time, but he also understood her take on it; it was better to let her slowly get into the habit of smiling instead of forcing it on her.

Instead, he raised his hand towards her again, hoping to continue their stroll through the carnival until he noticed which one he was holding up to her. In a hasty maneuver, Fukase swiftly relocated himself to be standing on her right side as he offered his hand to her again, disregarding the confused expression on her face. “Shall we go back to the path, milady?”

She giggled again at his formal demeanor. “You don’t have to be so formal,” She quickly packed her new rabbit doll into her basket as she accepted his hand again. Although she was already well aware of his odd behaviour from before, Flower knew better to not bring it up and make him embarrassed.

Unfortunately, the more she thought about it, the more it started to bug her. Especially when she started to realise how often such situations would occur multiple times that night. Upon closer inspection, there was one thing that they all had in common; the fact that Fukase had never let her hold his left hand.

As much as she didn’t want to sound like some prissy girl complaining on their date, the urge to ask him about it was stronger than those worries. “Hey, Fukase?” The white-haired teen began, tugging a little on their interlocked hands to get his attention. “Can I… ask you something?”

He eagerly turned to her. “What is it?”

“Can I hold your left hand?”

The question alone was enough to wash his bright smile away, replacing it with an astonished frown on his face and a startled expression in his eye. His footsteps immediately stopped in the middle of the pathway as his grip on her hand tightened a little. For a while, Flower started to regret asking that question; she would’ve not done so if it meant that she was going to be subjected to him staring at her, downright baffled at her words. Now, she felt as if she was riveted to the ground by his gaze, feeling her heart climbing up her throat as she gulped loudly.

Fortunately for her, he broke their staring contest by turning his head away from her for a bit, his left hand covered from top to bottom in bandages rising up to cover his face. In a low, apologetic tone, he muttered: “Uh, sorry about that,”

She was speechless. “Eh?”

“I know you don’t like it when people stare at you, so… sorry that I was doing that just now.” He hastily apologised before continuing. “A-anyway, why do you want to h-hold my left hand? I mean-! Is there a reason? N-not that you have to tell me, wait I mean-!”

As the redhead stumbled over his words, the gears in Flower’s head started turning. A line of stuttering dialogue from Fukase convinced her that her asking him about it was the right thing to do; in a normal everyday conversation, he would never ever trip over his own words. As far as she could remember, his confidence in speaking has never failed him, only faltering a little whenever Flower managed to sneak a sweet, unintentionally affectionate line of dialogue to him. So to hear him uncharacteristically stutter so much while talking to her normally… Flower quickly realised that something was up.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to tell me, Fukase,” She tried to ameliorate the situation, hoping that he wasn’t too embarrassed. “I’m really sorry that I asked it so randomly-”

“It’s not that, it’s just…” He trailed off as his eyebrows furrowed, his gaze shifted to the sight of his left, bandaged, roughly-surfaced hand. A sigh left his lips; he was gonna have to tell her something eventually, so why wait?

“The truth is,” He started, hoping that he didn’t sound too nervous. “No one… has ever held my left hand before…”

“Why?” She blurted out as her curiosity overrode her politeness.

“I never offered it to them,” He explained slowly, gaining a bit more confidence as he confessed to her. “I mean, you know how my hand looks; it’s a mess. And even with these bandages, it’s still really… you know, coarse and rough,”

Flower found herself frowning at the mention of what his left hand really looked like. It called back a past memory of their time together, when Fukase had told her the events that caused him to look as he is now. That day, he even slowly, very gingerly, took off his bandages and eye patch to show her the scars he had hidden from everyone for so long, the damaged side of him that he refused to show in public in the fear that he would be met with disgust and disdain.

But on the contrary to his fear of Flower leaving him, Fukase was embraced by her love and adoration for him, the emotions in her that he managed to call out now being gifted to him instead as some form of mutual bond. In the same way that he helped her break down her emotional barriers, she had helped him overcome his trauma-induced obstacles. It was a relationship between them that nothing in the world could break.

And tonight was just another testament to it, Fukase realised as Flower quickly shook off his hold on her own hand, instead reaching for his left, roughly-surfaced one covered in white straps of cloth. Her fingers brushed across his as she matched them to line up with hers, a small yet ever-so-kind smile on her face encased in her lips. Fukase unknowingly gulped at the sight of his girlfriend looking at him with so much kindness and care, her beauty brought out even more tonight with her neatly combed tomboyish hair and lilac-coloured butterfly pin.

“Fukase,” She broke the silence between them as she whispered softly. “Does it feel any different when I hold your hand like this?”

He averted his eyes at her question. “Well, for me, it feels the same but for you-”

“It’s the same for me too, you know,” She interrupted him gently, shifting her right hand to the side a little as she interlocked their hands together. “I know you’re always worried about how your scars might change how I see you, but… You know that’s never gonna happen, right?”

As soon as she spotted the skepticism in his eyes, she took it as a sign to continue. “Whichever hand I’m holding doesn’t matter to me so long as it’s yours, Fukase. You don’t have to be worried about how you look when you’re with me; I don’t mind any of it at all,”

“ … Are you sure?”

“I’m sure. Besides,” She chuckled as she recalled another memory. “Didn’t I already tell you before that I liked your scars?”

“W-well yeah, but…” After baring out the truth to her, the red-haired boy felt unnaturally vulnerable, the somewhat playful tone in her voice making him blush. He still wasn’t used to her telling him that she liked the permanent markings on his skin. For a long time, he hated them and wished that they would just disappear, especially since they were a reminder of that dark side of him. And yet to listen to her words when she said that she liked them… it felt like letting go of a breath of air that he’d be holding for a long time. ‘Because they’re a part of you too’, Flower had told him back then. ‘That’s why I like them’

Meanwhile, the girl standing before him gently pulled their interlocked hands back down, her left hand holding tightly to her basket as she turned back to the path. “I really don’t mind holding your left hand, Fukase,” She reassured him again with a soft smile. “So… let’s keep this date going, okay?”

Flower hadn’t even taken one step forward before she was tugged back towards the red-haired boy, his uncalloused hand cupping her face as he pulled her closer to him. Just like the beginning of their date when he had commented on her blushing cheeks, the snow-haired teen found herself hypnotized by his armour-piercing gaze, his right red eye staring intently at her for a short while only to soften as he leaned his face close to her, closing his eyes and landing his lips onto hers. As her cheeks heated up like red-hot iron, she knew in absolute certainty that she was blushing now.

It seemed as if time stood still as Fukase kissed her, the action and noises in their surroundings seeming to pause as her eyelids slid shut in conjunction to his daring public display of affection, his head tilting slightly to deepen their kiss as Flower mimicked his actions. It felt like hours had slipped by them as they parted from their kiss, the commotion from the carnival returning to their field of vision and awareness.

Fukase’s face was almost as red as his hair as he chuckled lightly, his iconic bright smile back on his face. “Hana-chan, thank you,” His voice was teeming with gratitude as he thanked her. “You always seem to know exactly what to say,”

Flower was blushing equally as much, her wallflower shyness emerging from her. “I’m just being honest,” She humbly replied.

“How in the world did I get a girlfriend as amazing as you?”

“I could say the same for you, you know,”

“Me? What did I do?”

“I mean, how in the world did I get a boyfriend as sweet and funny as you?”

“Hey! Don’t copy my words!”

“But it’s true!”

The both of them laughed at each other’s antics, their hands interlocked with one another as they continued to stroll down the dirt-trodden path.

~*~*~*~*~

A/N: GAAAAAHHHH these two make me soft~ ;-;

[starshineandbooks]

Won’t you say yes? It’d mean the world if you did. Chapter two

Words- 1462      AO3

Pairing- Remile!

Summary- Emilie Proposes!

Ring refrence

Chapter one --- AO3

Remy lounges on the edge of the pond, one arm about Emilie’s shoulder and a beer in her free hand. She listens as Emile tells her all about the school and the locals at his college.

 Emile leans his head on Remy’s shoulder, “And it’s so pretty you know?”

 “I know.”

 “But I miss you so much, this is the first time we’ve been together since highschool.”

 “We’re here now though doll, We always reunite.” Remy kisses the crown of Emilie’s head, “Don’t we?”

 Emilie nods, but hesitates a solid minute or two before he finally says, “But I don’t want to stay separated longer than I have to.”

 “Oh angel cakes,” Remy coles gently, rubbing her hand up and down Emilie’s upper arm, “I know you don’t.

 Emilie nods, pulling a box from the picnic basket, snuggling closer against Remy.

 Remy swigs from her bottle, content in the moment.

 “I love you Remy.”

 “I love you too babes.” Remy grins, “Are you from France?”

 “No?”

 “Because Eiffel for you.” Remy’s smile grows as Emilie giggles prettily.

 “HEy Rem?”

 “Yeah Angel cakes?”

 “We’ve been together a long time, right?” Emile pulls out of Remy’s arms, turning to face her.

 Remy’s brows knit, “Well, yeah? I mean- you’re twenty three now, and I’m what-”

 “Twenty two, turning twenty three in two weeks.”

 “That!”

 “I have a question for you, and no matter how you answer I understand, but uh…” Emilie takes a deep breath, “I love you so much, and I’ve been meaning to ask you for literal years, and-”

 “Babes you’re shaking, are you okay?” Remy sets a hand against Emilie’s shoulder, hoping it grounds her love. 

 “I’m fine I just- oh I had a speech and I memorized it and-”

 “Babes?”

 “Will you marry me?!” Emilie bursts suddenly, fumbling the box with two rings open, and managing to throw the whole thing into Remy’s lap.

 Remy looks down at the rings, eyes a little wide, “Is this- did Bia or Virgil put you up to this?”

 “What- NO! No, I’m so sorry! If you say no it’s-”

 “Hold up angel cakes,” Remy says gently, “Of course I’ll marry you. I’ve been in love with you since Junior prom, you came and you told the jerk I’d been dating off and then took me instead of going with your other friends.”

 “Really?” Emilie asks softly, “It took me a little longer, it was when we woke up in that hotel room, I was so scared I’d taken advantage of you-”

 “You did, you made me watch Steven universe.” Remy smirks.

 “But you smiled at me, and I just- golly!” Emilie giggles.

 Remy looks at the two rings, trying to figure out which one is for him. They’re both a silver color -white gold actually- and have a small set of celtic knots in the middle of the band all around it. She grabs the that is smaller, she has thinner fingers after all and slips it on, smiling with a startled laugh.

 “IS it- do you like it?” Emilie asks softly.

 “It’s perfect Angel,” Remy smirks, “It fits me perfectly. How’d you know?”

 “You and Bia and Anne share your jewelry, swapping rings, you and Bia have the same ring size, I borrowed her hand for a bit.”

 “God you’re smart,” Remy lunges forward, dragging Emilie into her lap, kissing her fiercely, because what else could she do but kiss her perfect, wonderful, lovely man?

 Emilie shudders and his arms lace tightly about Remy’s shoulders, he’s the first to pull back for breath, “I thought- I was thinking we’d keep these rings as wedding bands too? Because getting a second set makes it seem like these rings are temporary- and We aren’t.”

 Remy kisses the tip of Emilie’s nose, setting their foreheads together, “Oh angel cakes, I don’t even need a ring, whatever you want baby.”

 “Thank you. Oh thank you!” Emilie says.

 Remy takes one arm away from Emilie’s waist, reaching between their legs and pulling his ring out and smirking, “You want to put yours on too? Or..?”

 Emilie laughs, “Oh goodness, I’d forgotten!”

 Emilie moves, shifting so he’s a little further back on Remy’s lap, one hand presented to his boyfriend- fiancee. Emilie’s engaged to his partner who he loves so, so much.

 Remy smirks, slipping the ring onto Emilie’s finger, “Thanks Angel.”

 “I love you Remy.”

 “I love you too, babes.”

 Emilie laughs, kissing Remy’s cheek, “Thank you for saying yes.”

 “Aw babes, you’re my whole world!”

 Emilie giggles, flushing, shifting to press more firmly against Remy to cuddle her better.

 Remy just holds Emilie close, content to curl together as the sun sets, reflecting on the pond in front of them.

 “Rem?”

 “Yeah Angel cakes?”

 “What’d’ya think of children?”

 “Depends on the kid and who’s the parent. I dunno. Why babes?”

 “I- Would you ever want kids?”

 Remy’s brows knit, then he sighs, “I- I dunno. I’m not against them, but- I guess I’m just scared I’ll turn into my sperm donor. He- He was real bad, y’know?”

 “Oh Remy, I know. I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to make you think of him-”

 “Oh Angel, It’s okay. You didn’t know, and I’m better now than I was years ago.”

 “I know, but I’m still sorry.”

 “He did worse to my little siblings than he did to me.” Remy shrugs, “Now let’s not think about that ass hole. How many kids d’ya want angel cakes, as many as you want.”

 “I don’t really know… It’s kinda silly but when I first started crushing on you I had this whole plan for our life and-” Emilie laughs, “It’s silly.”

 “Oh Yeah?”

 “Well yeah.”

 “Tell me your plan then Angel cakes, you know I’d get you all the stars and planets if you wanted.” Remy says gently, looking over her sunglasses and into Emilie’s eyes.

 Emilie turns a shade darker, “Oh- you!”

 “Me?”

 “Yes you! 

 Remy grins.

 “But I had this dream- We’d buy a big house with one guest bedroom left, and we’d have three kids, and a white picket fence, and a German shepherd, maybe a blood hound too. Ooh! And a Siamese cat, and We’d have a big yard, and maybe a nice creek in the back.”

 Remy laughs softly, “Oh Angel cakes, d’ya still want that?”

 “I mean, yeah but-”

 “We’ll make it happen. Tell me, d’ya have names for the animals or kids?”

 “Yes?”

 “Mind sharing then?”

 “No! I thought maybe two girls and one boy, we could name them Silena May, Catherine Anne, and Jason Berry.”

 “I like it.” Remy says gently, “But Are those first and middle names? Or two first names? I’m good with both.”

 “I- two first names?”

 “Yeah, That’s a thing y’know?”

 “Is that why your mom’s called Delilah May?”

 “Anne has two first names too, y’know?”

 “I didn’t!”

 “Yeah, Anne Winifred,” Remy giggles, “Though she prefers Winnifred as a middle name.”

 “Oh my!”

 “Bia’s just Bianca though.”

 “Is that what Bia stands for?”

 “She stands for freedom and punching jerks too, but yeah.” Remy grins.

 “Did you hear about Callie and Jax showing up to church with black eyes and bruises yesterday?” Emilie asks, “They looked bad, what happened, do you know?”

 “Of course I do, It was my menaces that caused it.”

 “What?”

 “Yeah. Bia went and got into a fight with them, then Virgil got involved because they called you and Anne something unkind.”

 “What’d they say to make Virgil get involved?”

 “I don’t think you wanna hear it sugar,”

 “Rem please?”

 Remy sighs, “Well Bia and Virgil refused to tell me exact words, but Callie and Jax were implyin’ that you ‘n Anne were gonna marry yer cousins alla cause you hung out round us or were related to us ‘nd I- Oh!”

 “Honey, you’re upset, it’s okay.”

 “But-”

 “I’m not marrying any cousin of mine, just you And It’s not just you, It’s the amazing, talented, beautiful, strong, independent person I love.” Emilie soothes, “And I doubt they’ll be running their mouths again if that bruised jaw Callie had is any indicator.”

 “The germanshepherd, can we name her Marciline?”

 “Only if we name the bloodhound Prince Bubblegum.”

 “The cat should be Stripes.”

 “Stripes?”

 “Yes.”

 “Where would you want to live?”

 “Oh, Em, anywhere you are.”

 “Why-”

 “We could move back to my family’s home, it’s kinda in the middle of nowhere but it’s got a really good school district! And we have a creek on the family plot, and if we fixed it up, we could take my great aunt’s house, it’s five bedrooms, already has electrical and running water.”

 “I’d love that.”

 “We can discuss more later, I just want to hold you.”

 “That works, I just want to be held.”

 “I love you.”

Main master post         Sweethearts, soulmates, and snarky remarks masterpost

[eeveedel]

chubby omega louis. in the grocery store some not-so-kind omega congrats him for being pregnant but he is not so it upset him and after the night harry conforts him they have sex with all the have-my-pups dirty talk😛😛😛😛😛

a very long over-due prompt! all fluff and angst bc I was too lazy to write smut, very lightly edited. enjoy! 

--

Louis had come close to having a breakdown in the grocery store more times than he would like to admit to himself, but today, he felt particularly close.

 Harry was at home with their three-month old daughter, and he had asked Louis if he would mind popping out for a half gallon of milk, a box of oatmeal, and maybe some apples. Usually Harry took on the duty of random errand runs, but Louis had barely gotten out of the house at all in the past few months, and Harry thought it would be good for him to leave for maybe an hour.

 “Go out, get our stuff, get yourself a tea,” he’d said with their daughter swaddled to his chest, a soft smile on his face, “Enjoy yourself.”

 Louis was doing the exact opposite of enjoying himself, because he was forgetting Harry’s favorite flavor of instant oatmeal, and yeah, he could just text Harry and ask, but the fact he was forgetting already made him a terrible husband, and he wasn’t in the mood to make it more obvious.

 So he was close to have a breakdown in the cereal aisle, and then, to make things worse, he heard a familiar voice call to him down the aisle.

 “Louis?”

 His full body cringed as he heard the voice of a woman he had take mommy yoga classes with many, many months ago and he had long gone to extensive efforts to avoid.

 Louis lifted his head, seeing her trotting down the aisle with her long ponytail and bright pink work out pants, and he braced himself.

 “Oh, hey, Angie,” he greeted.

 “Hey,” Angie grinned, coming right up to him, “I haven’t seen you in so long, how are you doing?”

 “Oh, I’m okay,” Louis shrugged, “Everything’s a little crazy with the baby right now.”

 “Oh, I can imagine,” she said, tossing her head, “But congratulations to you and Harry, that’s so exciting!”

 “It really is, yeah,” he agreed. He reached down and grabbed the handle of the basket at his feet, like he was prepared to leave at any moment. Which, honestly, he was at this point.

 “When’s she due again?” Angie asked, with that same steady smile.

 Louis blinked and frowned.

 “What?”

 “The baby, when’s she due?” Angie repeated, “Soon? You look ready to pop!”

 She gestured to Louis’s body, and he felt his face heat up at the same moment his stomach went cold. He resisted the urge to put an arm around his stomach.

 “Um,” Louis said, his mouth suddenly going dry, “The – the baby’s three months old now.”

 Angie’s face shifted, her eyes widening.

 “Oh, Louis, I’m so sorry.”

 “It’s okay,” he said quickly, when though his stomach had started to hurt now.

 “Really, I didn’t know,” Angie said.

 “Yeah, it’s fine,” Louis repeated. He was grasping the handle of his basket harder now, ready to leave.

 “You know, I know some great postpartum workouts, if you ever want me to send you anything,” she said, waving her hand in the air. “Could always help.”

 “Thanks,” Louis said flatly. He hoped his face wasn’t pinking up too badly.

 Angie just looked at him for another moment, pressing her lips together, and then shrugged, like she had just now figured out that this was a horrible, awful, uncomfortable situation and Louis wanted to burn himself alive.

 “Well, it was nice seeing you, Louis!”

 She gave him a wave he didn’t return, and then headed back off down the aisle.

 Louis jus stood still, his eyes and face burning, and then he quickly grabbed the closest box of oatmeal, flavor and brand be damned, and hustled off to the register.

 The whole ride home, Louis kept swallowing hard and blinking, trying to keep himself from tearing up. He was already in such a shit mood, and then fucking Angie had to appear and make it worse.

 Louis knew he had gained a lot of weight during his pregnancy, and he knew that was normal. Every mommy book and blog told him that breastfeeding would help the weight come off, but it hadn’t for him. He was stressed all the time, and exhausted, and he was still eating like he had while he was pregnant. If anything, he had gained more weight since he gave birth, and usually, he didn’t care, because he spent all day in maternity pants and big sweatpants, breastfeeding and changing diapers and trying to fit in sleep anywhere he could.

 But he was acutely aware of his weight now, because apparently he still looked fucking pregnant. He could feel the weight of his belly pressing on his thighs and pushing out the band of his pants, when he looked down at every red light he could see it pushing out the fabric of his sweatshirt, and looking at himself he felt the first tear push out of his eyes. He squeezed them closed, repressing a wet sob, and kept driving.

 Because now he was thinking about Harry, his kind, patient Harry, and how they hadn’t had sex since their daughter was born. Harry had given him everything he needed; back rubs and kisses and snacks, god, lots of snacks, but they hadn’t had sex. Not even a hand job. And when Louis had gone to pick Harry up from the gym last week, on one of the few days he felt okay enough to grab the car seat and go for a drive, he had seen Harry with his gym friends at the door. His very cute, very in shape gym friends, who were all grinning and giving Harry hugs and slapping him on the back.

 He knew Harry would never cheat on him, but now, just thinking about Harry bumping bodies with people younger and far thinner than Louis made his stomach twist up even more.

 By the time he got home, he was hoping that Harry was in the background, or upstairs, or somewhere Louis could avoid him for a bit. But no, when Louis came in the house, Harry was sitting on the living room floor, rocking a fast-asleep baby in her rocker.

 “Hi, babe!” Harry called when Louis walked in the door, “How was the store?”

 “Uh,” Louis choked out, “One second.”

 He raced to the kitchen and rapidly put away the three things he had gotten, and then just stood in the kitchen, gripping the counter hard as he squeezed his eyes closed. Again, it didn’t work, and he wanted to scream in frustration. He wanted to scream even more when he heard Harry’s footsteps come towards the kitchen.

 “Louis?” Harry asked softly, “Is everything okay, baby?”

 Louis pressed his hands hard to his face, trying to keep everything in, but by the time Harry rounded the corner, Louis was full on blubbering.

 “Oh, baby,” Harry said immediately, “Honey, what is it? Can you talk to me?”

 Louis just shook his head and wiped an arm over his eyes, still hiccupping.

 “It’s dumb,” he managed, and Harry frowned.

 “Well you’re upset, love, so it can’t be dumb,”

 Louis winced and shook his head, looking down at his socked feet. Even the bits of his ankles he could see poking out of his sweatpants looked thick and swollen. God.

 “I ran into Angie at the store,” Louis sniffled, “She asked me when the baby was due.”

 He shifted and rubbed his eyes, suddenly feeling pathetic.

 “She said I looked ready to pop,” he said, “You know. Because I’m fucking fat now.”

 Then, he broke into sobbing again, and covered his face. Harry was by his side in an instant, rubbing his back.

 “Oh, baby,” he said, “Baby, baby, it’s alright.”

 “No, it’s not!” Louis stopped, “I’m fucking fat, and we haven’t had sex in months, probably because you don’t want to touch me any more, and – “

 “Whoa, whoa, slow down,” Harry said, “Of course I want to touch you, you’re my husband! Why wouldn’t I want to touch you?”

 “Because!” Louis snapped, suddenly frustrated that Harry wasn’t connecting the damn dots, “I. Am. Fat, Harry. I had a baby and I got fat and clearly everyone can tell so don’t tell me you didn’t notice of any of that bullshit.”

 “I – “ Harry choked out, and Louis covered his face again.

 “Oh, God, you did notice. And that’s why we’re not fucking anymore, and you’re going to leave me, and – “

 “Okay, hey, no, slow down,” Harry said. He grabbed Louis’s hands and carefully pulled them away from his face. Instead, Harry held them between his big hands, squeezing Louis’s fingers between his own. Louis looked up at him, his stomach still in pain as he gazed up at his husband. His lovely, strong, very skinny husband.

 “Okay, first of all, Angie is in a pyramid scheme and didn’t vaccinate her kids, so she can fuck off,” Harry said, “Second of all – baby, we haven’t had sex because you were healing, and I didn’t want to hurt you after you literally just gave birth.”

 Louis just stared, so Harry kept going.

 “We’ve just barely had a minute to ourselves, and when we did I wanted you to rest,” Harry said, “God, Louis, I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize what that was doing to you, I really didn’t.”

 “Well,” Louis said, “Thanks.”

 Harry gave him a pained smile before pushing on.

 “Listen to me,” Harry said, “This has nothing to do with what you look like, I promise. Not at all. You’re so beautiful, Louis.”

 “But I’m fatter,” Louis said flatly.

 “Yeah, you put on some weight, but you had a baby,” Harry said, “And god, you’re so gorgeous.”

 Louis rolled his eyes.

 “Okay, let’s not over do it.”

 “No, seriously. Baby, you were so pretty and curvy before but now…” Harry glanced down at Louis’s body, and the other man wanted nothing more than to wriggle out of sight, “God, you’re stunning.”

 His voice got a bit deep, and Louis just blinked at him blankly, his mouth popping open.

 “You…like me like this?” Louis said hesitantly.

 “Honestly, baby, I love it,” Harry said, “You’re beautiful. And sexy. Really, really sexy.”

 Harry let go of Louis’s hands and then went to hold him by the waist. He squeezed Louis’s sides a bit, making the other man flush, and Harry just grinned and shook his head.

 “Seriously, I don’t want to hurt you, and I know the delivery was hard and you’re still healing but…God, when you’re ready, I would love to be able to touch you again. Really, properly touch you.”

 “Really?” Louis said softly.

 “Fucking absolutely. I have a gorgeous husband, and he just had my baby, and I’m very in love with him and have been for years, why wouldn’t I want to fuck the absolute shit out of him?”

 “Wow, you’re as romantic as ever,” Louis rolled his eyes, which made Harry laugh and smirk.

 “And I promise, I will absolutely no complaints about your weight. None in the slightest.”

 “I,” Louis stuttered out, and then looked at his feet again. Harry caught his chin and made him look up, which just made Louis blush.

 “Maybe,” Louis said, “Maybe we could blow each other tonight? If you want?”

 Harry grinned, his entire face lighting up. He grabbed Louis around the waist and pulled him close, placing a hard kiss on his lips.

 “It would be my pleasure,” he said. And God, he sounded so sincere Louis’s entire body warmed pleasantly. He pressed himself to Harry’s chest, closing his eyes.

 “I love you,” he murmured.

 “I love you too, bug,” Harry said, and Louis smiled at the old name.

 “Will you love me even if I got you the wrong oatmeal?”

 “Uh,” Harry said, “I didn’t ask for oatmeal, babe, I asked for granola bars.”

 “Oh my God,” Louis gasped out, “I’m so sorry, I totally forgot, and I thought – “

 “Hey, you know what? It doesn’t matter. Oatmeal is great. I love oatmeal. Oatmeal is better than granola bars.”

 Harry held his hand on the back of Louis’s head, pressing him deeper into his chest, and Louis huffed and closed his eyes, murmuring to Harry once again he loved him.

 He really was so lucky to have him, and to have their daughter, and no one else mattered.

 Especially not Angie. 

[rainandhotchocolate]

Hello luv

A/N: This took me so fkn long to write omg - also extra soz to @nym-phi for how long this took me, I got very caught up in writing longer stories… ANYWAY I hope you like this as a lil V-day fluff piece - I hope this is ok!

Come Home

Y/N closed the door behind her, sliding down the door huffing. She smelled like Carlton Draught beer, it was soaked into her fingernails, and she could still feel where men had pinched her ass all night as she served them drinks. The lights were all off in her apartment, but Y/N couldn’t bring herself to get up and turn them all on. The idea of her having to stare herself in the mirror covered in the mess of a workplace she’d been in for the past year made her want to start crying again.

Remus would have already made her a hot chocolate, a hot water bottle, and sat her in bed, telling her to put in her resume somewhere else, ‘somewhere that deserves her’. Y/N hated when he said that.

Y/N groaned finally, pulling herself up off the floor, rubbing her eyes and moving begrudgingly down towards her shower. She felt the hot water burning her skin, forgetting all the places that she had been touched or beer had been poured on her. After drying herself off and slipping into bed ducking her head under the covers to black out the noise and lights still coming through the window from Shoreditch.

She fell in and out of sleep. She felt strong arms curl around her waist, pulling her back into a warm chest hair brushing into her neck…

Y/N gasped, sitting upright as daylight began streaming into her window. She couldn’t help but check the bed beside her to see if he was there, smirking slightly, pushing his dark hair off his forehead. Y/N couldn’t help it, it was like a compulsion, just in case one day he happened to be there waiting for her.

“Y/N, Y/N are you up?” Another voice called out, Y/N realising why she woke up so suddenly.

“Yes Rem, all up, not naked” She yawned, grinning at him as he pulled open the door to her bedroom rolling his eyes.

“You look wrecked” Remus came and sat next to her handing her over a large cappuccino, scrunching up his nose at the smell as she opened up the coffee cup and sipped on the powdered chocolate.

“Thanks, Moony, always know how to cheer a girl up” She sighed as the caffeine began to course through her veins, “Are you all organised for next week?”

“Oh yes, got the streamers, balloons, several chains to bolt myself to the basement so I don’t get loose and kill the rest of London in a murderous werewolf rampage”

“Perfect! And guess what, I’m on my period next week too! We’re finally in sync” She winked, gulping more of the hot coffee as it warmed her up, “So why are you over so early”

“It’s 12”

“You know I got home at 4am right”

“I was here to give you some news, shush!”

“Ok, ok” Y/N grinned into her drink. 

“Alright so, I got a letter – and stop interrupting me ok, this is good news, - from Dumbledore” His face split into a smile, one that lit up his eyes in a way that Y/N hadn’t seen in, well 11 years (11 weeks, 3 days), “He offered me a job”

“He what! What job?”

“Defence against the Dark Arts Professor”

“REMUS!” Y/N threw herself at him, hugging him a little too tightly.

“Can’t – breath” Remus attempted to laugh as Y/N pulled away from him.

“Remus, that is so exciting! How long have I been telling you to apply, Dumbledore would do anything for you”

“It is a really big deal, I’m a little worried that he hasn’t thought the whole way through” And here was classic Remus again, brow furrowing deeper into his forehead as he began listing out all the potential problems there would be if he became a Professor at Hogwarts.

“Stop it, Shush! You literally studied for this, you have run through the syllabus for fun, and I can’t even count the amount of time you tried to teach s-“ Y/N caught herself before she said it, “me how to defend myself against a Grindylow. They’re going to love you”

“He mentioned another thing as well”, Remus continued, a little quieter. Y/N felt her stomach turn over. She’d already thought about it, about who might be at Hogwarts around about now, with black hair and round glasses.

“Harry’s going to be in one of my classes” Remus began picking at his nails, a nervous habit he’d picked up ever since Professor Slughorn told him that having long nails would result in him not being able to adequately stir his potion, clearly unaware of Remus’ nails being leftover from his latest full moon.

“Has Dumbledore told him anything?”

“No, I don’t think so”.

They both remained silent momentarily. Y/N remembered the day Harry went to Hogwarts, September 1st 1991, Remus and Y/N had taken days of work and sat at home drinking Firewhiskey. Y/N almost glanced over to the small black box pushed under her bedside table, the lid bursting open with small pointy corners of envelopes pointing out the sides. Y/N cleared her throat awkwardly and turned back to smile at Remus.

“When do you start then? Do you have to go in early?”

“Well normally, yes, but I mentioned that my furry little problem peaks up again next week, so he’s allowed me to come in on the train with the rest of the students”

“Get some nostalgia, maybe they’ll let you sit up with the driver like you’ve always wanted!” Y/N winked and shoved his shoulder slightly.

“Oh shut up” Remus growled, but he was grinning at her, “I’m really excited”

“You really, really should be” Y/N squeezed his forearm, “And stop internally worrying, I bet you already have a full years study plan ready”

“Well, I have been asking Dumbledore if he can bring in some cages for me” Remus’ grinned again, a twinkle in his eye that Y/N hadn’t seen since Si-, since their own days at Hogwarts.

“Are you ok?” Remus watched her closely as she shook her head, pulling at the hem of her pyjama top.

“Yes, sorry of course! Just a bit tired, come on let's go get your supplies, I know you’re desperate to get some new 0.7mm ballpoint pens”

Remus poked her in the ribs lightly and stood up, straightening out his trousers, “Alright get dressed lazy bones, I’ll meet you downstairs”.

“Do you-“

“Yes I have two muffins and a croissant downstairs, so hurry the fuck up” Remus closed the door behind him chuckling loudly.  

They spent the rest of the day trawling through every stationary store in Convent Garden. Neither of them wanted to bring up the fact that he would probably be needing some actual magical quills from Diagon Alley. They had both been avoiding it for a while now, only going when extremely necessary, or they couldn’t find another place that sold what they needed. Waving Remus goodbye from the Northern Line platform heading back towards Brixton. She felt her stomach drop as he turned away and her head swirled with the idea of being alone for the next 6-12 months as Remus went to teach at Hogwarts. Well, alone was a stretch, it’s not like she was a loner, but Remus was her strongest connection to the magical world since James and Lily and Peter and Si-

“What the fuck” Y/N banged on her front door trying to push it open, her key getting stuck as she tried to jam it open. She gave a final whack and fell through, landing painfully in a similar position to where she had sat the night before, covered in alcohol.

“Uuuuuuughhhh” She groaned loudly, digging her finger into her now bruised hip bone and stood back up to curse at her front door. Hanging up her coat and bag she went into the kitchen, grabbing some bread and ham and making a sandwich and sitting on her dining room chair, sighing. She bit down into the rye bread before she noticed anything.

As someone who spent a lot of time at home cleaning as a way to avoid… other things, it was blindly obvious when a scruff of black hair sat in the back corner of the kitchen, sticking out from under the cabinets. She stood up suddenly, walking over to it cautiously, wand at the ready.

“Lumos” Y/N pointed at the black tufts of hair, unsure what to do about it. It had been a while since anything odd had happened around here. She’d done a very good job of making her life as predictable as possible – work, Remus, work friends drinks, sleep, repeat. Her heart had started beating heavy in her chest in that way that reminded her what it was like to feel nervous, afraid, excited.

She went over and nudged it with her foot lightly when there was a light growl behind her. She jumped and turned quickly, holding her wand hand out like a sword, her heartbeat now crawling into her throat as she gazed out into the small amount of light coming out of her wand and a small lamp sitting next to her toaster (Remus had to explain to her 3 times how it worked).

“Who’s there” Y/N hissed, creeping forwards, “Show yourself”

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t sure the best way to see you” a hoarse voice called out from the doorway, a large figure appearing slowly in the shadows. Sirius stepped into the light, revealing skin so pale he might have been a ghost, with black matted hair and dark, sunken eyes that seemed to suck in the remaining light. He was thin. Thinner than she’d ever seen him, even when he’d come back from his Christmas break in their 3rd year having been starved for 2 weeks by his parents.

Her stomach was flipping over and over, head whirling, unsure what she should do next – what are you meant to do when your life-sentenced partner breaks out of prison and stands in your doorway.

“You don’t have to say anything – fuck – I’m sorry I didn’t mean to scare you or anything, maybe I shouldn’t have come here” Sirius trailed off, his eyes flashing uncertainly. Y/N closed the distance between them in three long strides and flung her arms around him. Sirius gripped her back, digging calloused fingers into her shoulder blades taking in a deep breath as if he’d been holding it.

“How did – are you ok? Are people after you?” Y/N pulled away, looking at him closer now. His face looked skull like as if the skin was stretched back over him.

“Padfoot,” He said softly, nodding to the chairs where she had left her sandwich and going over to sit down, groaning loudly as he got off his feet, “The dementors, they can’t tell when you change form.”

“You mean to tell me… that you escaped Azkaban. ASKAban – the highest security prison in the UK by being an unregistered animagus?”

Sirius shrugged, his eyes beginning to droop shut with exhaustion. Y/N pushed the sandwich closer to him and nudged his leg so he’d wake up. He jolted back upright, eyes suspicious until he saw Y/N again and followed her hand to the partially eaten ham sandwich.

“Thanks” He croaked out, clearly unable to really function. Y/N watched him closely as he slowly tried to chow down on the bread, almost a little pathetically.

“Are you…ok?” Y/N asked slowly, wincing at how pitiful the question sounded but he smiled at her, and Y/N could finally see a glimmer of the Sirius she remembered.

“I will be.” He stepped closer again, reaching out a hand as if he wanted to grab hers but he pulled away quickly, “I just, I need to get to Hogwarts”.

“Hogwarts?”

“Peter is there, he’s with Harry, I can’t let him do anything to him”

“What? Peter, are you sure?” Y/N felt her throat close up. This was the one topic that had been playing on her mind. And the one that she wasn’t sure she wanted to bring up.

“You don’t believe me?” Sirius turned sour instantly, eyes narrowed, suspicious.

“Of course I do, it’s just… Peter? We haven’t heard anything about him in what-12 years? How do you know he’s at Hogwarts?”

“Fudge, he came by Azkaban – probably to gloat, and brought the newspaper. There was a photo of the Weasley’s, do you remember Arthur from school? His kids all in Egypt – and there he was, sitting on the smallest boy’s shoulder was Peter” He gushed, taking in a deep breath before continuing, “as a rat”.

“And he’s at Hogwarts?” Y/N said slowly, struggling to take in all this information at once.

“That’s what the article said” It seemed that just getting the words out was calming him down. Y/N paused momentarily.

“Why are you here, Sirius” She sighed, asking the inevitable. There was still a little part of her ticking away in her head that kept reminding her of how much it hurt the first time he left. She knew she shouldn’t blame him, she wanted so badly to believe him, but she also knew he had a one-track mind sometimes and that didn’t always leave room for her.

“I don’t know,” Sirius said honestly, “Not that I’m not glad I ended up here. Once I got out I just kept moving and moving and ended up back in your old neighbourhood. I wasn’t sure if you’d still live here but I remembered you used to keep a key out because wizards would never look for it” 

“Apparently that didn’t work” Y/N chuckled, Sirius grinning back at her. 

“I, uh, should clean up” He pointed his hands towards his ragged attire and matted hair. 

“Oh, yes, of course, the bathroom is in the same place” She pointed down the hall and he nodded, leaving her alone in the kitchen. Y/N was frozen to the spot.  A part of her wanted to grab the phone and call Remus immediately, but she already knew that he would apparate here and be sticking his wand in Sirius’ throat so quickly she’d not have hung up yet. She heard the shower begin to run and the idea of Sirius, the boy she fell in love with, the man who could make her laugh till she fell off her chair, or push up against a wall and make her legs shake. 

Y/N walked slowly down the hall towards the shower and pushed open the door. The white curtain was closed, but she could see his silhouette, hunched and thin, pushing his face under the water.

“Sirius?”

“Mmmmm” 

“Can I join you?”

There was a pause, Sirius’ silhouette having stopped dead. 

“Yes, of course. I mean it’s your shower” He was nervous, his hands almost wanting to cover up the pulled skin over his bones. He didn’t feel like he was the man who deserved to be here anymore, with Y/N, who had stripped off and looked even more beautiful than he had remembered. She stepped in slowly, moving up close to him so she could share the warm shower. 

Y/N could hear his heart beating loudly as she moved closer to his chest, his eyes looking down at her. 

“I missed you” She murmured, not yet looking up at him, her stomach turning over and over in her stomach. This was something she’d fantasised about, every single situation that could have seen Sirius’ freed and back here, with her.

“You kept me going in there, you know” Sirius stepped in closer to her, his arms itching to pull her closer, to feel her up against him, “I shouldn’t have gone to face Peter alone, I-”

Y/N lifted her head up, grabbed the back of his head and kissed him softly. He pulled her up against him and kissed her back, deepening the kiss as she pushed him up against the back of the shower. Memories of feeling his lips on hers and his tongue push through and flick onto hers, in the hallways between Transfiguration and Charms, in the secret passageways towards Honeydukes, in back rooms of James’ house when his parents had gone to sleep and James and Lily were sneaking into each other’s rooms. 

“I’m not going to leave you again” Sirius murmured into her ear, still gripping her tightly. 

“I’m not going to let you”. 

@maraudersandco  @sly-vixen-up2nogood   @blackpinkdolan @katbernoulli    siriuslyjanhvi   evyiione   @sirius-lysad   @cherrie511   @thebabblingbook   @blushingskywalker    @imlukesnirvana

[starstruck-thirst]

Pariston Hill: Something Old, Something New

Written in reference to @agent-cupcake‘s Pariston Hill: Ingénue series.

Prologue to ‘She Wants Revenge’. First part: ‘These Things’

Warning: Reference to abuse, mental manipulation, emotional manipulation, and sexual descriptions.

“I’m glad you came out with me to this gallery opening. I hate going into social situations like this.”

You barely registered the voice of your best friend at your side as she spoke to you. “Yeah. I hate going to these things too,” you told her with a small laugh in your voice.

 “You used to come to stuff like this all the time, didn’t you? When you worked for the hunters’ association?”

 Your throat tightened, and you struggled to swallow it down to respond. “Yeah. But it’s been half a year since then.”

 A tingling sensation started in your fingers and you clenched them into a fist to keep your hands from shaking. It was already hard enough to keep breathing past the growing tightening of your throat. Slowly you steadied your breathing; in five seconds, hold, out five seconds. You were determined to not have a panic attack in this gallery.

 The show wasn’t even particularly large. The somewhat large space had only four partitions set up to divide the space and provide more art space. The artist was up and coming so the dress code had been business casual and up, but nothing like what you used to attend when you did work at the hunters’ association. Which hopefully meant that a very specific person wouldn’t come.

 “I’m going to go to the other side of the gallery for a moment. I’ll meet you back over here in a bit, okay?” you told your friend. “I just need a minute to think then I’ll be much better.”

 She nodded, and even though she looked a bit sad she let you go.

 You felt fortunate that she understood. You hadn’t gone out a lot in the last six months and had become a shut in since your… health termination from the association. Being in public made you shake uncontrollably for a while, then it became an issue only if you were in high class areas or near the association headquarters, and now it had gotten to if you were directly triggered. No one asked you blatantly what was wrong with you, and you kept blanketing it with the excuse of still recovering from your mental break of too much work.

 But it wasn’t that simple.

 At the opposite end of the gallery the crowd was much thinner and you felt like you could breathe a bit better.

 ‘I just have to distract myself,’ you thought looking up and into the painting that you randomly had selected to distract you from your growing sense of panic.

 The painting was an abstract of a spring day. The sky was blue and calming, and the dew on the flowers sparked hope. You did another round of cycle breathing as you stared at the slightly blurred landscape to ground you again.

 “Pariston, these ones are especially lovely!”

 The simple mentioning of his name made your blood turn into sludge in your veins. Your vision lost all color and the blue sky of the painting was suddenly dark and cloudy in front of you. Surely there was more than one human on this planet with that name. Surely.

 “Hm? Oh, the landscape pieces? They do seem to be especially well done.”

 You couldn’t breathe.

 Your heart constricted in your chest as if a large hand was gripped tightly around it.

 Suddenly it was just like back then: you couldn’t see, hear, or speak. You could feel the gag in your mouth, the straps too tight against your face and pinching the soft skin. Vision was blacked out by the blindfold secured over your eyes and the only thing that you could hear was your own heart beat pounding in the white noise. Suddenly one of the ear pieces was lifted, and a voice that was too close too suddenly spoke, “How are you feeling?”

 A muffled reply was all you could muster. The gag completely rendered your words useless as you tried to beg, plead, pray.

 His low chuckle tickled your ear as a hand touched your waist and you jumped at the unexpected touch. “I told you that if you let any other man touch you again that I’d break you.” His voice was warm like the sun. And in the darkness it drew you into him even though you knew you were just a moth and he intended to light you on fire.

 But as you leaned back into his chest he was suddenly gone. The ear piece slapped back into place and his hand was taken from your waist. Once again you were left in the darkness. The only thing you could feel was a tear slide down your cheek as you searched for his presence again by swaying as much as you could with your hands tied above you.

 Expectedly, you came up empty. Unable to find him in your sensory deprived hell.

 If you could hear the riding crop whistling through the air towards your thighs you could have prepared. But as it slapped hard into your sensitive flesh you jerked back in shock. You screamed around the gag as it came across your back.

 Your shoulder.

 A hand was on your shoulder and someone was saying your name.

 Your eyes snapped back into reality, sight and color returning- although very dulled. “Sorry?” you heard your voice say, though you didn’t even feel your lips move to say it.

 “Ah, it is you!” the sweet warm voice filled your ears and you had to fight the urge to lean into it all over again. “What a surprise seeing you here.”

 Somehow managing to keep your body from trembling into literal pieces on the ground you turned to face Pariston. His hair was even more beautiful than you remembered, and the flame in his eyes that once flickered intensely for you was still there in the warm brown. But not as bright as it had been before.

 “Y-yeah. A surprise to see you too,” you managed as you took him in with hungry eyes.

 “Do you know her Pariston?”

 The sweet voice pulled your eyes away from Pariston’s face with a snap. A woman stood next to him in a nice dress, it was the perfect level of sophistication without trying too hard. Surely he had picked it out for her. It went too well with his suit for it to have been chosen any other way.

 One look at her and you knew her voice wasn’t a ruse. This young woman was sugar. Pure, innocent, and unexpecting.

 Vaguely you heard Pariston’s voice introduce the two of you, but your mind couldn’t grasp her name. Even if you focused on it, it slipped away from you like water. His eyes were on her now, that hungry flame somehow reeled back in as he looked down at her, “We used to work together at the association.”

 She looked at you with wide eyes of excitement. “Oh, I work there currently! I’m surprised we never met.”

 “She left about six months ago. That was before you moved up into your position.” He was speaking for you, and like you weren’t even there. In some ways it was like nothing changed.

 “I got sick,” you said suddenly which alarmed her just a bit.

 “I’m sorry to hear that,” she said in a voice that made you feel like she genuinely meant it.

 Pariston slipped a hand onto her waist and pressed his lips to her forehead in a chaste kiss. “I’m going to get us some drinks. Red or white wine?”

 “Whatever you’re having!” she chirped back to him with a smile.

 He grinned at her response and released her. “I’ll be right back. You two talk.”

 She nodded with a tinge of pink on her cheeks and he went to walk away, but before he turned around one of the display walls he stopped and looked directly into your eyes. A slow, calculated, grin spread onto his lips. Your legs quivered feeling his hand slide down your body and to your thighs as he grinned down at you.

 “Did you work with Pariston long?”

 Again your eyes snapped to the woman, and when you looked back up Pariston was gone as was the illusion of his touch.

 Why did he leave the two of you alone? Surely he knew that you would try to warn her. That you’d grab her and run with her. Make sure she never saw Pariston again.

 “Are you okay?”

 “I’m fine,” you said in an automatic response. “Sorry I… was just so surprised to see Pariston here. He doesn’t usually attend galleries this… low class.”

 “I asked him to come. I was surprised he said yes.” She shifted a little with a sense of embarrassment. Part of you wanted to strangle her for bringing him into the same room as you.

 Part of you wanted to strangle her for being his.

 “I worked with Pariston directly for a few months. I moved into a position near him about a year ago so we spent a lot of time together.” It was true, you had only really worked with Pariston for such a short time, but he had worked his spell over you with a quick effective ease that made you sick to think about. “How long have you two been… working together?”

 “Oh. I don’t work directly with him really… But we’ve been seeing each other casually for a few weeks now.” A finger found its way into her hair and twirled the strand. You felt sick.

 ‘Run,’ you said in your head. ‘Run now. Quit your job. Run away!’ “It seems to be going well,” you responded with a smile. But that wasn’t what you had tried to say.

 She nodded with a fresh pink to her cheeks. “He’s very… understanding.”

 In your head you could see Pariston gripping your thighs.

 “But a bit assertive.”

 He forces your legs to spread apart.

 “It’s kind of exciting.”

 A long finger enters into you with a thrust that is too fast and you gasp.

 “Are you okay?”

 “I’m just a bit tired,” you heard your voice respond and you felt like you needed to throw up. It was just like before. You couldn’t control your words or your thoughts. It was as if six months of your life hadn’t just passed with an agonizing slowness and you were back where you started.

 “(Y/N), are you still recovering? That’s too bad. I had hoped you’d be back to your old self by now,” Pariston’s voice said with a heavy lace of concern as he appeared next to you with a drink offered out to you.

 ‘Don’t take it!’ you screamed at yourself. ‘Throw it into his face and scream at him for what he did to you!’

 The other woman took her drink to hand with a muttered thanks. You took yours robotically. “Oh yeah you got sick. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t ask you so many questions.”

 “I couldn’t handle the work,” you replied with a forced smile. “It just took too much out of me and I had a break down. It’s fine. I did my best.”

 Pariston took his place by his new woman, a step back so even out of the corner of her eye she couldn’t see his face. Couldn’t see that he was eating up your discomfort with a dessert fork.

 “I’m sorry. That sounds so hard,” she said with a sincere voice of sadness. She gripped her cup as if she didn’t know what to do with the sympathy she felt. But it was nothing compared to what you were feeling for her.

 “Thank you. It’s okay. Pariston made sure I was taken care of when I was released from my position.” You screamed internally. A long and ragged scream. Why had you said that? Why had you helped paint him in a positive light? He had taken care of you because he wanted to be sure you never spoke a word against him, even as he tossed you into the garbage like a broken toy.

 You sipped the wine, begging for it to be poisoned. Begging for it to end your life.

 “That’s so sweet!” she looked up at him with big admiring eyes and he smiled down at her. You could see her melt.

 “I always take care of the people around me,” he told her in a voice so gentle that you were amazed she didn’t fall into his arms like in a romance novel.

 He brought a hand to her cheek and caressed her carefully before leaning down and kissing her gently. But as he did so he didn’t close his eyes, instead he looked directly at you. Like a predator that devoured his prey and stared down anything that would try to take it away. You stopped breathing until he finally let her go.

 Her face was blazing red now. “It was nice meeting you!” she said before turning to walk away, trying to hide her embarrassment and growing excitement from a total stranger.

 One more chance. You only had this one last chance to warn her. Even if Pariston heard at least you would have tried. At least you would have done something. “Nice meeting you too!”

 Your heart sank.

 Pariston laughed: rolling, warm, mocking. The fire that you had flown into and burned up in- literally- in full blaze in front of you again. “She’s cute isn’t she? My little ingénue.”

 He didn’t even look behind himself, he just knew that she wouldn’t turn around or question his spending a few extra moments for an ex-colleague. She didn’t have the paranoia that someone would take him from her. Not yet.

 In one step he closed the distance between the two of you and put a hand on the side of your face. Instinctively you leaned into it, as natural as breathing.

 With a gasp you caught yourself and went to move back out of his grasp but his fingers were already in your hair, and holding tight. “You remember our agreement, right?” His voice was a scalding warning. “You promised me you’d be a good girl. And you know what will happen if you break a promise to me.”

 You didn’t want to respond. You didn’t want him to have the pleasure. But his eyes closed in his cat like way of expressing happiness. Your silence had served as answer enough for him. “It really is a shame you aren’t back to your old self. I do hope that one day, you will be.”

 A shiver ran through your body as fast as a strike of electricity and you couldn’t stop the soft sigh that escaped.

 Then his hand was gone. As easily as he had overtaken you with his body, he just as easily took every piece of warmth it had to offer and you suddenly felt very cold. “You should get your hand looked at. You look like you might be bleeding. Please take care of yourself.” The fake concern fell from his lips so easily. And with a wave he was gone.

 You watched him go, unable to look away until he was completely swallowed by the growing crowd of art lovers.

 “There you are! I was getting worried,” your friend called from the crowd, coming at you from the very spot that Pariston had disappeared into. “Are you okay? It’s getting a bit crowded… (Y/N), is that blood? Hey is your hand okay?”

 In a daze you looked at her finally, not quite sure if you were looking at anything before that. Her cold hands took your empty one and lifted to show that your nails were embedded into your palm. You are certain you hadn’t unclenched this hand since you first started having a panic attack. The entire time your nails had been sinking into your own flesh millimeter by millimeter. A slow trickle of blood was flowing down your knuckles and had stained the hem of your dress. Lifting your fingers you finally felt the pain spread over you.

 With a hazy grasp on reality you realized that the only reason you were standing was this pain. These small four focal points that had grounded the shreds of sanity that you still had in the presence of uncontrollable fear. And with the pressure finally released your grounding was lost. With an audible crash your sanity shattered all over again and the world went black.

 You didn’t even feel the pain of your body hitting the ground.

[hoodoo12]

Can I make a request ? I was looking for a fan fiction of surgeon rick with a women soldier and she get wounded in the war and is taken to his tent and he fixes her up and they mess around.

Happy to oblige! Surgeon Rick is an interesting one . . .

NSFW, Surgeon Rick/reader, some stuff that is not recommended in a medical setting, swearing

⁂

“YOU’RE GOING TO THINK YOU CAN’T BREATHE, BUT YOU CAN!  KEEP BREATHING!” Rick shouted.

His fingers were wrapped tight in your hair. He was lucky you had hair to hold; you kept your brunette locks longer than a man’s but shorter than was required for a woman. He  was yanking, yanking it with a different kind of intent than when the two of you were occupied in different circumstances, but with a force that told you he didn’t care.  He shoved the your head under the faucet, under the full-force cold water, and twisted your head until your face was up and taking the brunt of the spray.

“KEEP BREATHING!”

You struggled, feeling like you were drowning, but Rick managed to grapple your hands and keep his own big grip around your thinner wrists, preventing you from covering your injury or pushing him away.  Rick also used his weight against your hips and backside to keep you in place against the sink.

Goddamn cheap foreign shit!  Goddamn inferior junk, the barrel practically fucking disintegrating!  And now you might have a scar to match the one that crossed your lips, and be blind.

FUCKING BLIND.

No depth perception? That’s a discharge. Period.

Rick’s own breath came in short pants, and he held your head under the tap for you didn’t know how long.  Eventually, though, he jerked you back up.

“Let me see you!” he barked, not caring that his voice cracked in concern.

Released and gasping for air, you turned around and stood very still with your eyes closed.

Rick pushed your sodden hair back roughly off your forehead.  You could almost feel the intensity of his gaze as he examined the skin on the right side of your face.  No longer under the stream of water, it was starting to burn and you could feel that it was abraded.

“Open your eyes!”

You complied, and you could see the look of relief that crossed Rick’s face. Your vision was slightly blurry, here was no hemorrhage in your right eye, no unbearable squinting or tearing to indicate a corneal abrasion.

Rick was a doctor. A surgeon, pressed into service.. He didn’t cheer, but let out an unsteady breath.

“Just some tattooing,” he said thankfully.  “A little bit of contact wounding too, from the combustibles, but nothing really damaged.”

You nodded, and gingerly wiped the water off your face, wincing as your fingertips made contact with the abrasions on the skin around your eye. Your fingers came away bloody; without water washing it away blood seeped from you.

Rick watched this for a moment, before turning away sharply to dig through the supply cart against the wall. Without returning to your side, he threw a handful of bandaging material at you. You were able to catch it, barely. After the rough handling and the uncharacteristic tone of concern for you in his voice, you were a little surprised by his abrupt change in demeanor.

“Rick . . .?” you asked tentatively.

He snarled wordlessly at you in reply, then started cleaning up the area. By the way he slammed drawers, it was obvious he was still raging.

With a sigh, you hopped up onto the examination table and began dabbing at your face with a gauze pad. It hurt, and it was starting to feel like the side of your face was on fire. You grit your teeth but hissed through them at the pain.

That made Rick spin back around to you. The aura of concern was still gone. The look on his face and in his stance was a combination of angry and eager, instead. In three steps he was back at your side, between your legs.

“Give me that!” he spit, nimbly picking the gauze out of your hands.

He began cleaning your face. He wasn’t particularly gentle, but you tried hard not to wince or pull away.

Through eyes watering from the pain, you tried to watch his face.

There was a hard set to it. A scowl that occasional slipped with a lift of his upper lip, to show his teeth. His nostrils flared with each intake of breath. His eyes were sharp, scanning the wounds he was cleaning, until they flicked into your gaze.

“What?!”

You shrugged your left shoulder. “I was just wondering if you’re upset you don’t get to suture anything.”

Rick almost grinned at your tease. He caught himself, however, and managed to reply, “No. I was trying to calculate drug doses for the pain killers you’re going to need. Gotta give you enough to make you comfortable, but not enough to get you addicted.”

“This is just a skin wound,” you said, raising your hand to touch it. The area around your eye was starting to feel soft and swollen.

“Stop touching it!” he ordered.

Your fingers jumped away from your face again. They were still bloody.

Looking up at him, you took note that his eyes were locked on your fingertips. In a move that startled him, you locked your legs around his thin waist.

“Narcotics made me nauseous. But I bet Doctor Sanchez can come up with something to take away my pain,” you said thoughtfully, while grinning suggestively.

You could tell he wanted to get out of your grasp and shove you away, but you could also feel the heat coming off his body, the continued quick rise and fall of his chest, and the faint impression of an erection behind the fly of his pants. He licked his lips and in an explosive movement, grabbed you.

Before you could react, he licked the side of your face, where you’d been wounded.

Pain erupted. Involuntarily you tried to get away, but his grip was too tight.

“What the fuck, Rick?!” you exclaimed.

New tears flooded your eyes and your face was on fire again. You tried to raise a hand to it, like before, and he slapped your hand away. Now there was a new blaze inside you; one of growing fury.

“What the fuck?” you repeated. “I can’t touch my own face, but you can fucking lick me?!”

Rick stretched and grabbed the curtain near the bed, giving it a swift yank to enclose the small area, to create a separation from the rest of the room. A fascimile of privacy, here in the med bay.

“You’ll be going on antibiotics,” he replied mildly, as if that explained away everything. “Now take off your pants, or I’ll do it again.”

That smoldering anger in your belly made a dramatic shift to arousal. Doctor Sanchez may have some shitty bedside manner, and his methods may be unconventional, but you couldn’t help but go along with him. In seconds your pants were down and laying in a heap on the floor. He made an impatient motion with his hand, and you hopped back up onto the examination table, so close to the edge it was uncomfortable and percarious. You held yourself up by just the tips of your toes on the step.

Rick stepped between your thighs again, looking you over critically.

“No narcotics, huh . . .” he muttered to himself, and without another word to you, dropped to a crouch and shoved his face in your pussy.

You immediately fell prone on the table with a cry. He lapped relentlessly at you, with seemingly no regard for how awkward the position was for you with no support for your legs. You held onto the sides of the table in a death grip. You felt like you were going to fall, even if you rocked your pelvis and legs upward, and Rick, apparently sensing your intention, slipped his arms around your hips and held you in place.

The juxtaposition of the extreme stimulation he forced upon your pussy and the unsteadiness of the position you were in warred with each other. You cried out from both pleasure and worry, and Rick paused half a second to look up your body and grin.

Doctor Sanchez was a mildly sadistic asshole. He knew exactly what he was doing, making you feel like you were going to fall but also not wanting to readjust where you were laying because you knew, you knew, that if you scooted to a more secure spot he’d just stop.

So you balanced as best you could and let him have his way with you.

His tongue pushed inside you, and when it didn’t, he applied steady pressure from his chin on your entrance while it circled your clit. You were helpless, your legs trembled in the effort it took to balance, and you couldn’t grab his head or anything because of the grip you had on the table. The only thing you could control were the sounds you made, but he was quickly wresting even that from you.

You tried mightily to not make much noise--there was only a sheet of fabric separating you from anyone who might be passing by the door--but apparently Rick needed to have command over that too, because he locked his mouth solely on your clit and sucked hard.

Electricity shot through you, making your body arch as all your muscles tightened and a loud wordless exclamation spew from your mouth.

Just before you managed to actually tumble into an orgasm, however, Rick stopped.

He stood up abruptly and left you dangling, figuratively as well as literally. The sudden lack of physical support snapped you out of the euphoric haze you’d been in, and you were stunned. You also scrambled to keep on the table instead, to not fall off.

Nonchalantly, Rick wiped his face with one of the gauze squares he’d procured for you.

“What the hell--what the fuck, Rick?” you said for the third time. You were much less outraged than previously. More surprised and confused.

“You forgot about your face, didn’t you?” he shot back. “You didn’t want a narcotic.”

You gaped at him. He turned and half opened the curtain again. Knowing him and his next intention, you hastened to find and pull on your pants again. When you were mostly decent, Rick pushed the curtain fully open, exposing the examination table to the room.

You scowled. He ignored your displeasure and returned to cleaning your face. It still hurt, but you sat stoicly as he swabbed it and applied a light dressing. He watched himself work dispassionately without meeting your eyes.

When he finished, he nodded to himself, told you he’d write you a prescription for the antibiotics, and that you could get out.

You pushed yourself off the table and stood close to him, looking upward.

“You said you didn’t want to give me anything that’ll get me addicted,” you said. “Maybe, though, I’m addicted to you.”

Like before, Doctor Sanchez almost smiled. This time the expression almost made it to his eyes.

“Get out of here,” he told you, with more amusement and less irritation.

You gave him a mock salute as you headed out. 

“And come back here tonight, soldier!” he called after you. “That bandaging will need changed, and you might need another dose of pain-killer!”

You flashed him a grin that made half your face hurt as you left. “Oh, I know I will!”

fin

[morg-among-the-stars]

Well, because I’m bored, I got the great idea to write sad, sad, stupid AU angst…

It’s partially inspired by one of mine and my Dad’s favorite songs, “Same Auld Lang Syne” by Dan Fogelberg

One Year

Word Count: 2,786

————————————————————————

One year.

Ava and Lilly have been broken up for one year now.

Three-hundred and sixty-five long days of living alone in their separate houses.

They had broken up because of Ava's job, her job that caused her to have to move.

It was her dream job, being a game developer, and Lilly told her to follow it, not knowing the toll it would have.

Ava moved three hours away, which was manageable at first.

The barely long-distance thing was manageable, but there were some days where Lilly would make the drive only for Ava to be sucked into her work.

"One more line of code..."

"Let me finish this one last thing..."

It was a few too many one more's, that would lead into a hundred one more's every single visit, to the point where they barely spent time together and Lilly would leave, where the guilt would fill Ava's stomach when the job was done, but Lilly was gone.

They tried to talk it out, but Ava, to no fault of her own, was often too literal, too focused on her career, thinking she had all the time in the world with Lilly.

She didn't, she really didn't have all the time because Lilly cut things off with her after a point, saying maybe they can pick back up where they left off some other time.

And that was that, they were broken up, willing to try again at a later date.

A year later, on a seemingly random Friday afternoon in the dead of Winter, Lilly strolls down the isles of the local grocery store, picking up a few things for the next few days.

She turns the corner to grab bread and peanut butter for breakfast and she has to do a double take.

She can't believe her eyes.

There Ava is, standing in front of the all the jelly options.

How is she here? Did she move back? When did that happen? How long has she been back in town?

The racing questions in her mind are halted when Lilly takes a second to look at her.

Ava looks thinner, much thinner, like she hasn't been eating well since they broke up.

Her hair is shorter, too. Her long, down-to-her-waist-length hair traded in for a short, chin-length cut.

Lilly doesn't know if that has to anything with the breakup, she hopes it doesn't.

Lilly takes a quick peak into Ava's grocery basket and not much is in it, just a box of cereal, a small carton of milk, and a loaf of bread.

Ava's still working on picking out the jelly and Lilly thinks it so she can stall on going back to an empty home.

She knows herself that the empty home and the empty bed is depressing to come home to.

She gives props to people who are happy single, who can genuinely live their best lives in a house all their own, because she cannot.

Lilly has tried filling Ava's space in the bed with other people, becoming desperate for someone to lay with at night.

She'd found girls who vaguely looked like Ava, and girls who were very into gaming like Ava, and affectionate girls like Ava.

But none of them could compare to the real Ava Graham, none of them.

Ever.

She feels guilty about breaking up with Ava and even more guilty for trying to fill that space in her heart with other people.

There came a point where she thought Ava was happier without her, happier alone and engrossed in her career.

But maybe she isn't.

Ava seems to almost get fed up with herself as she huffs and pulls a jar of strawberry jam off the shelf.

Lilly wants to tell her to not be so harsh to herself.

She doesn't say that, though.

She has a chance now, a chance to make things right between them.

"Ava," She starts, almost hesitatingly.

They haven't even called in a year, due to Lilly's anger and feeling of being pushed aside by Ava's career, so hearing herself say Ava's name is strange.

Ava picks her head up from her grocery basket quickly and she looks instantly delighted and anxious and confused all at the same time.

"Lilly... Hi." Ava replies and Lilly wants to go beat herself from a year ago up.

She wants to kick Lilly-from-a-year-ago's ass for an hour, because she was an idiot.

Hearing Ava say her name and looking so genuinely happy to see her shreds her heart into a million pieces.

How the fuck had she been so stupid, such an idiot to let go of the best person she's ever met?

Lilly had her head so far up her own ass that she wouldn't even let them be friends.

She dropped Ava completely!

What an idiot!

"Hi. It's... good to see you." Lilly says and Ava still has that calming affect on her that she always had. This isn't as awkward as she first thought it would be.

It's more sad than anything.

Ava smiles at her, warm and faint.

"I'm happy to see you. I've missed you."

Lilly will do whatever she can do in her power to have Ava back into her life.

Long-distance, using her stupid brain and communicating better, anything.

She'll go through and do anything.

"How long are you in town?" Lilly asks her.

"I, um, I moved back two months ago." Ava says, "I didn't know if you wanted, to, to see me and I didn't want to bother you."

An idiot, the biggest idiot in town, Lilly is.

She's never wanted to hug Ava more than she does right now.

"Oh, alright." For a moment, Lilly doesn't know what to say, she hates herself and she's stunned with the simple beauty and kindness and hyper-empathy that Ava has.

But, Ava does know what to say.

"Are you... doing anything tonight?"

If Ava lets her, Lilly will hug her for the entire weekend, for an entire forty-eight hours straight, because that's all she wants to do now.

Hug her and apologize, apologize, apologize for being the biggest idiot on the planet and then some.

"No, I'm not." Lilly answers a little too eagerly, desperately, she'll admit.

That earns her a kind smile from Ava, as it dawns on her that they've been in this one section of the isle for too long and that they should move as to not cause any trouble.

"Do you want to... come back to my house? For a bit?"

"Yeah, I do." Lilly answers and the sound of relief is ever present in her voice.

They walk through the store for a little longer, picking up their respective, and Ava's few, groceries, then head towards Ava's house.

Lilly had kept their old house, which was small and cozy.

Ava's house is even smaller, fit for one person.

And Lilly can see Ava's attempt at making it cozy, with warm colors thrown all around the beige colored house.

There's a small Christmas tree on the coffee table in the living room and a few seasonal signs hung around, with a wreath on the front door.

Christmastime last year, when they lived together, was heavenly, Lilly remembers it now.

Spending hours putting up the Christmas tree, going out to find their own Christmas ornaments for the tree and their own festive decorations.

Hanging a mistletoe plant in their bedroom doorframe and lingering there before work and then coming home at the end of their shifts to snuggle on the couch and watch an old, "Rankin and Bass" Christmas special or Hallmark Christmas movie.

Because she's so nice and Lilly needs another reason to get herself run over, Ava let's Lilly store any groceries she needs to in the refrigerator for the night so they don't spoil.

The kitchen, which is adjacent to the living room, has the medieval tankard-style mug that Lilly had given Ava as a gift for their first Christmas drying on the counter.

It was and always has been Ava's favorite mug.

Once the groceries are settled, Ava takes a glance around her living room, going to pick up a couple pieces of trash and lint off the floor by the couch, a couple piece of trash and lint that Lilly didn't even see.

"I'm sorry if it's a little-" Ava starts.

She's cut off by Lilly's arms wrapped around her tightly, tight enough to knock an, "Oof" sound out of her chest.

But, on instinct and longing, she hugs Lilly back.

"I'm sorry." Lilly sighs. "I'm so, so fucking sorry. I'm an idiot, Ava."

"Why are you an idiot?"

Lilly has her hands clasped against Ava's back and she pulls them closer together.

"I lost you. I let go of the best thing that's ever happen to me, the best person I've ever met! I was so stupid to give that up over something so ridiculous..."

Ava finds herself pulling Lilly closer, too, as guilt bubbles in her stomach.

"You shouldn't, you shouldn't have to put up with me being a workaholic... I know the word for it now." She says softly. "I'm sorry for never spending any time with you. I don't know how I got so lost in everything."

Lilly leans back a tiny bit, but she'll be damned if she's letting go of Ava yet.

She tilts her head up to look at her.

"You're passionate, that's what it is."

"Maybe a little too passionate. I messed up."

Ava looks down at Lilly and her heart thumps quicker, looking right into her eyes, her eyes which are full of regretful sorrow.

"Why did you never call?"

"I'm stupid, Ava. Haven't we already figured that out?" Lilly says, laughing bitterly at herself.

But that laugh, though it is bitter, gives Ava a feeling she hasn't felt in a year.

"You aren't stupid, I think you get your anger from your mom."

It's snarky but truthful and Lilly hates that it's truthful.

"You might be right."

The two of them move to the couch and they aren't leaning on each other, but they are still close.

"I want to be different. I want to do better." Ava tells her.

"I want that, too. I want to do better. I want- I need you in my life again."

She sounds desperate again, but it's a type of desperation she'll run with if she can see Ava again after tonight.

Night falls slowly and they talk on the couch until the stars come out, where Lilly begrudgingly stands up and says,

"It's getting late, I think I should go."

Ava looks at her with almost puppy dog eyes, pleading that she doesn't walk out the door.

"No, you don't have to. You can stay the night, if, if you want to."

Ava doesn't want her to leave and Lilly herself doesn't want to leave.

So, she stays the night.

She offers to sleep on the couch, but Ava shuts that down quickly, saying she can sleep in bed with her.

And then, Lilly says that she'll just sleep in her shirt and underpants, and Ava offers her a baggy t-shirt and loose shorts.

Ava wants their closeness again, she wants to rewind the clock a year back and scold herself for never shutting off her computer.

She's elated, though she is trying her best to hide it, to have Lilly sitting in her bed, swimming in her large shirt and shorts.

Ava makes her nighttime shower faster than normal and sits on the edge of the bed to comb her hair, looking in the mirror in front of it.

"I like your hair, I never got to say it earlier." Lilly comments, smiling a bit.

"Thanks." Ava replies simply, continuing on her brushing for only a second.

She doesn't want to explain why she cut it so short to Lilly, not now at least.

She doesn't want to tell Lilly the reason she cut her hair so short is, because having long hair reminded her of all the times Lilly would brush it out for her after a shower or would take her time washing it when they were in the shower together some nights.

But now it's short and a hasty, five-minute-long shower is all she needs.

No intimacy to be created with it.

They lay together in bed and good lord does it feel good to have someone in bed with them again!

For Ava it definitely is.

She can only pile so many weighted stuffed animals on top of herself before it starts to get pathetic, until she gets blatantly sad that her pile of plush friends isn't Lilly.

Lilly has had other people in her bed, but they don't lay the same way that Ava does, with a look of absolute adoration in her eyes, and a hand always ready to hold Lilly's or caress her cheek when she's overrun with utter love.

Other people don't hold her like Ava does, where they can spoon each other or face each other and fit comfortably and perfectly together.

And now she wants Ava to hold her again, but she doesn't know if that's too soon, they're already in bed together after not seeing each other for three-hundred and sixty-five days.

Ava wants a million more hugs.

She has the hunch that it might be, "too soon" to cuddle, but that phrase often doesn't exist in her mind.

They do things at their own pace and sometimes, that pace is diving in and never letting go of each other.

"Lilly," Ava says through the dark, save for the tiny bit of light from the night-light in the corner of the room.

She still sleeps with a night-light as a woman in her early twenties, she has no shame.

"Yeah?"

"Can I, can we- is it too soon if we, um, hold each other again?"

For a dumb split second, Lilly thinks Ava means sex, but then she knows that if Ava meant that, she would've said it directly.

She doesn't want sex right now, because she doesn't want to think about how other girls don't worship her like Ava does in bed, how they still love her but not in Ava's way, the way she's used to and loves the most.

Ava means cuddle and Lilly definitely wants that.

"No... I don't think it's too soon." Lilly answers.

Her sentence is barely over before Ava is shuffling towards her, scooping her up in her arms and holding on for dear life.

It's a big break in tension, tension that neither of them wanted to admit was there.

The hug in the living room was a start and this feels bigger, even though it probably isn't.

They both cry holding each other like that, fitting together in a way that they've both missed so fucking much.

And they let those tears fall, let those emotions out.

"You have no idea how long I've missed this." Lilly says through a sniffle.

"I think I know, Lilly." Ava sighs, looking at Lilly in the dark, her face is red from crying.

Ava brushes a tear off Lilly's face and that gentle touch breaks another sob out of Lilly.

"Please tell me we can fix this, fix us?"

"We can, we can. I know we can."

Ava isn't promising anything, she's saying it definitively. She knows they can fix their relationship.

They get to work, little by little, starting out with spending that weekend together, huddled together close in bed at night and in the morning.

They then trade off going to each other's houses to visit and spend nights, Ava's new house is legitimately a half-hour away from Lilly's.

It takes exactly twelve visits before they kiss again.

Ava revels in it, kissing Lilly long into the night because she's missed it to no end. Her heart stops for a moment when Lilly pulls her hands off Ava’s face to push some of her hair behind her ears. Ava might keep her hair this length for a while.

Lilly holds back her tears so she can focus on kissing Ava and when they take a short break, Lilly thinks about all the other people she tried to replace Ava with and that none of them would ever compare in the slightest.

She loves Ava and she'll always love Ava more than anyone else.

They talk things through civically some visits and other visits are simply spent making up for lost time.

But they work together, patching things one day at a time.

[clevernewdimension]

Exhaulted Part Twenty-Eight (M)

Parts: Prologue, One, Two, Three (M), Four, Five, Six (M), Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten, Eleven, Twelve, Thirteen, Fourteen, Fifteen, Sixteen, Seventeen, Eighteen, Nineteen (M), Twenty, Twenty-One, Twenty-Two (M), Twenty-Three, Twenty-Four, Twenty-Five, Twenty-Six,Twenty-Seven, Twenty Eight, Twenty-Nine (Coming Soon!)

Genre: Drama, Romance, Violence, Smut,etc.

Pairing: SehunxReaderxMinseok

Word Count: 7.6

AN: AYYY YO THE THREESOME WE’VE ALL BEEN WAITING FOR! And probably a bit of pegging and some double penetration I got really naughty writing this #oops

Selinya was planning in secret to leave her family under all their noses. Late into the night they spoke until we all finally dispersed to sleep. I left for my apartment, sleeping. The next morning I had to go back to the castle. Hyli was thankfully nowhere to be seen. I walked past the kitchen, making sure to stop and tell everyone I use to work with hello, dropping off some coffees I brought with me. I had to walk past Gryhs, who looked at me with an annoyed look. I assumed it was because I looked liked I normally dress. A pair of shorts, a tank top and a paint covered hoodie. A pair of canvas shoes covered in paint and about to fall apart at the seams, no make up and my hair up in a bird’s nest of a bun. I just politely told him good morning as I walked back, taking the steps two at a time. As I turned the corner, my heart sank as I run into the one person I didn’t want to see.

Hyli smiled at me, I assume trying to be charming as his hands found my arm and my waist as we almost collided. There was this instint that I got to get away from him as quickly as I could, but I knew I had to at least try to play it cool.

“Princess Y/N, good morning,” He says, his voice a bit rougher than it was before. I assume he was trying to give it sex appeal.

He was dressed nicely, I guess. A button down shirt, a pair of nice dress pants and a jacket. His crown on his head was nice, and it was lovely to look at, just sad that it was his, really. I couldn’t help but get the feeling he probably wore it all the time as some sort of ego trip. “Good morning,” I say, trying to move past him, “If you don’t mind, I actually have to see my father-”

“He’s actually in the garden,” Hyli says gesturing back down the stairs, his hand still holding my arm. He smiled, though there was something about it that was a bit scary.

I give him a look, “No, he’s not. He just texted me a minute ago that he was in his office.”

I could see his smile twitch at that, “Oh, really? I could have sworn I saw in out there earlier.”

I nod, trying to pull away from him in a manner that wouldn’t seem rude. Though all I wanted to do was to rip my arm away from him. “Thanks, but I really need to go-”

“I’m sure he won’t mind if you’re a little late,” He says, his hand tightening around my forearm. His short nails even biting into my skin as his grip was getting even tighter.

I look now at his hand, before looking back at him. Hyli’s smile was annoying and obviously fake. I move my hand to pry his fingers off my arm, “Listen, please, this is important and I really don’t want to have to be mean about this-”

“Why would you feel the need to be rude,” He asks, giving me a glare. “I just would like to spend time with you, is all.” He scoffs, looking at me with a glare, “All the women in the country are so ill behaved, except for the Southern ones-”

The nice act finally broke. It couldn’t last long before, and now, after seeing how he hit Junmyeon, my patiences was even thinner for this guy. “At least we know how to keep our fists to ourselves when we get angry,” I say sharply, finally getting his hand off me as he freezes in shock. “Did you really think Junmyeon wouldn’t tell me? After what I literally have been through before? How about you learn to control your fucking anger before giving me a goddamn lecture, you pompous, holier than thou, ego tripping shit stain!”

His eyes go dark, and I knew Junmyeon was right. It was the same look I’ve seen dozens of times before. There was a moment when I froze in fear, watching as he quickly started to raise his hand. “Why you-”

“Is there a problem?”

The effect of hearing his voice just made me calmer and feel safer. Especially after what he’s done just a few months ago. Hyli’s hand faltered as he quickly dropped it to his side upon hearing the voice. I turn, seeing Kyungsoo coming from behind me. I smile at him, before giving him a freaked out look, tilting my head a tiny bit towards over my shoulder. I know that while Hyli wouldn’t notice the small movement, Kyungsoo would. He took the hint immediately, though something tells me by the glare he was giving Hyli he saw what the prince was doing with his hand. Here it looked like it was going to end up if he wasn’t there. “We’re late for the meeting with my Dad, aren’t we, Kyungsoo?”

Thankfully, he completely seemed to get exactly what was going on. Kyungsoo nods immediately, “Yes we are.” He hold his arm out to me and I lace mine through it, holding on tightly just in case Hyli does something stupid again. He hold his other hand out to Hyli, “Do Kyungsoo, son to General Do. I don’t believe we’ve met.”

Hyli’s eyes seemed to widen at the name. Apparently, General Do was very well known around the world and his reputation precedes him. There are very few countries that would try to face Exdria in war, as our army apparently is skilled in a lot of ways. “Hyli Naevoor,” He says, taking Kyungsoo’s hand and I watch as my friend proceeds to practically crush his fingers. Hyli winces, looking Kyungsoo right in the eyes.

“Word of advice, Your highness,” Kyungsoo says, before looking at him threateningly. “You’re already on thin ice after the incident last night. Don’t give us a reason to become enemies. We both know how that would turn out.”

The prince in front of us goes rigid, his body tensing visibly. Hyli scoffs, “I was just escort-”

Kyungsoo was having none of his bullshit, thankfully. His curt tone cutting though the spoiled prince’s sentence. “You know, the last man who hurt Princess Y/N I ended up putting a bullet in his head,” Kyungsoo growls. “We here in Exdria make sure to keep our royalty safe, and we’ll take down anyone who tries to harm them.” Kyungsoo glares at him one last time, before we move and start to walk past him.

As we walk away, I whisper, “Thank you so much.”

Kyungsoo nods, “Guy is an asshole, I’m glad you’re not marrying him.”

I smile, “I surprised you haven’t found a way to secretly punch him for what he did to Junmyeon.”

“Jun told me not to,” He says with a bit of a frown. “Besides, Junmyeon could have hit him back. I taught him how to protect himself too. Along with Yixing and Sehun. He’s got a mean right hook, but he’s not one for violence. Sort of like someone else I know.”

I shake my head, “Thankfully they’re leaving sooner than originally planned. They apparently want to get out before Junmyeon decided he wants to change his mind.”

“He’s not going to just over a kid punching him. Some of our army dying just because an spoiled prince with a stick up his ass hit him? Junmyeon would never endanger people over something  he sees as trivial,” Kyungsoo says, stopping as we reached my father’s office. “Well, here you are. I have to go see Junmyeon about something anyways.”

“Thank you, Soo,” I say with a smile, “Seriously, you really helped save a lot of trouble that was about to kick off.”

He just nods, “I’ll make sure someone is here when you leave just in case he decided to wait around. I have to go back to help train some new soldiers right after this.”

I give him a quick hug, “I won’t keep you waiting!” Before he could reply, I slip into the office. It was nice, windows open to the garden. Birds chirping and a light breeze. My father, for once, wasn’t in royal looking clothes, but a pair of jeans and a plain button down. His barely grey hair hung in his eyes as he was looking over a book, a smile on his face. He looked up, seeing me as I walked in.

“Hyli is an asshole and I’m so glad you’re ok with my having nothing to do with him and his view of women being nothing put babymakers and punching bags,” I say, walking forward. “So, what do we have to talk about?”

“Obviously. I never wanted that for you to begin with. It’s your choice,” He says, taking a sip of water from a glass by his desk. He smiled, before shutting the photobook he was looking at. “You and me. We’re going to go get some greasy fast food, stop by the art supply store and just, for once, forget we’re royalty.”

I was shocked at first. I always wondered what a day like this would be like when I was growing up. I just smile, “Alright, old man, let’s go.”

The afternoon with my father was great. We went and got the burgers that are just the worst for you with some milkshakes, went around the art supply store as I gathered up some paint I’ve already went through. I smile brightly, looking over all the paints, brushes and canvases. I even got a few canvases, in order to work on a new side project. I didn’t have any painting classes this year, so I won’t be too burned out painting things I have to for a class. Mostly we spent the time walking around town, talking. While it wasn’t the most action packed day, it was still fun and nice getting to learn more and more about the man that is my dad.

The day was starting to wind down as we found ourselves at The Junkyard. It took be a few minutes of convincing him to try this place, since it looked like someone has a bit of a hoarding problem. But, you know, more artsy. Mrs. Odd smiled, letting the two of us in a secluded corner of the restaurant. I was looking over the menu, before looking back up at my dad. “How did you and Mom meet,” I ask, pushing the menu away. I already made my mind up about what I wanted.

He smiled, still looking at the menu, “We met in the middle of a dare she got from her friends. I opened my food only to see a woman standing before me, her eyes wide and a can of spray paint. She was tagging my door as a dare. Ruined that shirt, too, since she was still spraying when I opened the door.”

I smile, laughing a bit to myself. “Sounds like something she would do,” I say with a grin.

“She felt bad, because she accidentally did the wrong door,” He says, finally pushing his menu aside. “She was suppose to do it to her friend’s ex’s door, but she was drunk and picked the wrong floor. So, to make up for it, she turned the very graphic tag on my door into a wonderful flower. My mother owned a flower shop, and apparently your mother remembered that, even though she passed away years before that.”

“That was sweet,” I say as a smile, looking at the tattoos on my arm. I always loved flowers… maybe that’s why.

He nods, “After that, we just started talking and I asked her out on one of the rare nights I wasn’t in my room studying.”

“Sounds like me, only, you know, with money and without your whole college riding on having perfect scores,” I mumble, as Mrs. Odd come over. We quickly order, my dad getting another cheeseburger while I went for a few slices of their cheese pizza.

“We’re a lot alike,” He says with a smile, handing over the menu, “But you’re definitely more like your mother than me.”

My phone buzzed, as I looked at it. I smile, watching the soundless video of Sehun literally pulling Minseok away from his computer. Under it, appeared the message ‘Need dinner. Want to meet up?’

“Who is it,” He asks, taking a sip of his soda.

“Sehun,” I mutter with a smile. “A video of him literally dragging Minseok away from the computer in his office and asking if I want to meet them for dinner.” I look up, to see my father’s reaction at mentioning Sehun.

He just shrugs. I couldn’t help but smile. Before, he’d sneer and roll his eyes. Now, though, after Sehun pretty much let it all out.. What happened to him, I saw something in my father change. My dad thinkings that anyone who can pull themselves out of hardships and keep moving forward are admirable. Sure, Sehun is a bit bratty, but his view of him has gone from all negative to about 85% positive. I still want that 15%, though, since Sehun’s helped me more than I could ever pay him back for.

“You know Sehun is actually a nice and good person, right,” I ask, “He’s just… been though a lot…”

“He has to be a good person if you fell in love with the brat,” He says with a small, knowing smile. It was like the kind of smile when a parent would catch their toddler sneaking another cookie out the jar. “Tell them to meet us here.”

My face went red as I tell them where to find us. “I… um… I don-”

“I’m not a idiot,” He says with a smile. “The way you help Sehun is different then you are with Lina. You love him.” He just grins, “and not just him, either. The way you faced Daejung to protect Minseok makes it very, very clear how you feel about him as well. You three are sneaky, but anyone who knows you all can tell there’s something there.”

I look down at the table, seeing a small carving in the table of BBH. I vague remember Baekhyun mentioning doing this when he was drunk.  I tried to keep my face from getting redder and redder. “And you don’t think that it’s… weird or wrong…?”

“When I was younger, I probably would have,” He admits honestly, stirring his drink with a straw. “But now… I mean, you’re not hurting anyone, so who cares. I just want you to be happy. Besides, you’re my daughter and you deserve at least two people who love you, if not more.”

“Dad,” I say, kicking him softly, “Don’t get to soft on me, old man.”

The door opens with a chime as I look over and see Sehun and Minseok walk in. They look over, seeing me and, at the same time, smiles break out on their faces. As they walk closer, they notice my father sitting in front of me. I move over, as Sehun quickly sites next to me. Minseok smiles, taking his suit jacket off and placing it over on the next table.

“Hello, your Highness,” Minseok says, sitting next to him as he starts to roll up his sleeves. His hair still neat and perfectly styled, his glasses on his face as he smiles. His hair a new color, just jet black. It looked nice and soft.

Sehun just nods in his direction as Mrs. Odd sets a glass of lemon and lime soda in front of Sehun and a mug of hot green tea for Minseok. She smiles at them, before walking off. Sehun was in sweatpants and a black tee. He looked like he was probably dancing with Yixing and Jongin before taking a shower and getting Minseok. His brown hair was a bit damp still.

“I called here and told her we’re coming,” Sehun says, looking at me, answering my question I was about to ask before I could.

“What have you both done all day,” I ask, looking at Minseok.

Minseok just shrugs, “I worked. Thankfully, though, It’s calming down so I can actually have a few days off. Unless there are emergencies, of course.”

Sehun leans back, “Got school stuff in order, made an appointment at a massage therapist for Jun as a gift since he needs to relax, helped Cera with something secret, danced for a bit and yanked Minseok away from his work for the night. What about you both?”

“Junk food, art supplies, walking around and then dinner,” I say with a smile. I glance at Minseok, “Which days are you planning to have off?”

“I’m thinking the weekend,” He says, smiling as he holds his cup of hot tea in front of him, the steam rolling up and fogging his glasses. He sights, taking them off and folding them. “After all, people I want to see have those days off, and they’re the most exciting days of the week.”

Sehun pouts, resting his chin in his hand. “I can’t believe I’m the one who has the most classes this upcoming semester.”

I smile, “I only have this last one. Going to graduate early.”

Dad just smiles at me, “I take it you won’t want a graduation party, then.”

“Oh, yeah, I do,” I say with a smirk, sarcasm biting at every word. “Just, you know, without the people and the catering food all for me!”

“Has anyone told you gluttony is a deadly sin,” Minseok says, smirking. With the Naevoor’s in town, talk of religion and sins has been at an all time high in my life.

“I will end you, Minseok,” I say, giving him a glare. He laughed it off easily. “God, I can’t believe they would have thought I would have actually agreed to marry that piece of shit.”

Sehun just smirks at Minseok, “There are other deadly sins too, Minnie. You’re guilty of them too. I’m sure all of us are. I can think of a few...”

My father just huffs, “Please refrain from flirting with each other and my daughter while I’m here. I’d greatly appreciate it.”

Sehun choked on his soda that he was drinking, causing a coughing fit from him. Minseok’s eyes were wide, as he looks over at the acting king. A blush was clear on all three of our faces as my dad just took a sip of his soda, giving us a knowing look.

“Sorry, sir,” Minseok says awkwardly.

My dad just looks at Sehun, then to Minseok. “Listen, I’m not stupid. I notice things. I know the three of you are together. Just… if either of you hurt her, I will make sure no one finds both of your bodies, am I clear?”

Sehun looks at him, directly, “I wouldn’t. Never.”

Minseok cleared his throat, “Both of us wouldn’t… we… we love her, sir.”

“I know,” My father says, a small smile on his face. “I can see it. Trust me, all of your friend see it too. Especially Junmyeon and Yixing. They’re just waiting for Sehun to tell them.”

Sehun rolls his eyes, crossing his arms. Though there was a slight smile on his lips, “Those fucking shitheads.”

I smile, listening as the three of them talk about things. I’m glad they are fine with me being quiet, just watching and smiling. We ate quickly, before deciding to call it a night. Minseok, holding his jacket as we watch my father drive off and back to the palace. He turns, smiling at me. “We still have a few cookies and some ice cream at my place.”

Sehun wraps his arms around my shoulders, setting his head on top of mine as I just smile at the eldest of the three of us, nodding. The ride was quick, Sehun deciding to drive since it was his car. I was in the back seat, smiling as I listen to Minseok scold Sehun on school related things and Sehun snap back with a retort about work.

Soon, the large seaside house was in front of us as we decided to watch a movie in the theater room as I ate on some sweets.The movie was sweet, Sehun sat in between Minseok and I as he constantly shifted his head from laying on me to laying on Minseok. It wasn’t until halfway through the movie Minseok pulled me from the other side, setting me so that I was sat on his lap, my legs over Sehun’s. Something about wanting to cuddle me too. I smile, resting my head on him as Sehun did the same, his hands rubbing soft circles on my legs.

It was some movie that they wanted to watch, so I’m fairly certain I napped for a few minutes. I just felt nice and warm. Safe. Safety is such a nice feeling, one that I appreciated more and more everyday I was with them. The steady heartbeat from Minseok’s chest, Sehun’s fingers drawing patterns on my skin absentmindedly. I woke up close to the end, not caring and keeping my eyes closed. I snuggled into Minseok a bit more. Usually, the few times I’ve done this before, I’m met with a small chuckle and a sweet comment. This time, I could a small, soft groan from him.

Sehun pinched my leg, looking at me before he starts to write words on my skin. W… H… I… until, finally what Sehun wanted me to know was completely obvious as to why Minseok groaned.

‘While you were sleeping there was a sex scene’, he wrote out. ‘Move a little and you’ll see’.

I move again, now feeling Minseok’s arousal under me. I smile, looking at Sehun before giving him a wink. He winks back, as we just bide out time for the movie to finish.

The credits started to roll a bit after. The second they did, I gave Minseok’s neck a soft kiss, nibbling a little.

“So you did notice, huh,” He says, rolling his eyes. He glances at Sehun, who just smiled as he leaned over, giving Minseok a kiss.

“Yeah,” I say with a smile. “I guess Sehun and I should fix this.”

Sehun smirks, before giving me a kiss as he looks at Minseok, “I think Minnie should let off some steam.”

I nod, “I remember those foreign judges were criticizing you based on your age. Must have been so hard not to have just told them what to do.”

Minseok groans leaning his head back, “Why did you have to remind me?”

“Because now you get to tell us what you want,” Sehun says. “That is, if Y/N is ok with that.”

I nod, looking at Minseok looks forward, at the both of us. “Yes,” I say with a smile as I watch Minseok smile at me, then Sehun. “I trust you not to hurt me or Sehun.”

“Both of you. Bedroom. Now,” He says, his voice getting darker. “When I get in there I better see you both naked.” He looks at Sehun. He takes his hand, moving it to grab at Sehun’s ass with a smile, “And I want you to be sure to wear my favourite little toy.” He let’s go, leaning back and looking at the two of us, “What are you waiting for? Go.”

Sehun nods, taking my hand in his and lacing our fingers. “Can I touch her, Minnie?”

Minseok’s hand reaches out, tightening in Sehun’s hair and pulling it sharply. Sehun lets out a long moan, looking at him. “What are you supposed to call me?”

“I’m sorry sir,” Sehun says, looking at him as Minseok pulls again, making Sehun let out a small groan, “I’m sorry.”

Minseok let’s his hair go, looking at him. “No, no touching her. I want her to do something special tonight. I want her to see the kind of mess you can be.”

I smile, nodding, letting my imagination run wild. I quickly stand, my hand still holding Sehun’s as we both make our way to the bedroom. I could see Sehun smile, even a bit giddy as we get there.

I quickly start to undress, watching Sehun as he does too. I couldn’t help but smile as he pulls down his sweatpants, revealing that we wore no underwear. I couldn’t help but watch him as he undressed.

Sehun quickly opened one of the two beside tabled, getting out a small, purple ring and a bottle of lube. Quickly and with expertease, he pulls the ring on his cock, letting it hug at the very base of it. The second he has it on. He gets on the bed just as Minseok walks in, holding a bag.

“Y/N,” He says, voice hard, daring to be defied. “Come here.”

Obediently, I walk over to him. He was still in his dress pants and shirt as he takes something out from the bag, “Do you know what this is?”

I look at the black harness and straps, nodding. My cheeks go red as I smile up at him. Minseok smirks, “Is it ok?”

I nod, “I’ve never done this before,” I mutter, feeling excited.

Thankfully, he helps me put it on and tighten it around my waist and thighs. “I want to watch you fuck him,” He murmurs in my ear, “But before that, we have to make sure it won’t hurt him. Start with one finger and a lot of lube. He’ll beg you for another finger when he’s ready, right, Sehun?”

Sehun nods, his eyes wide as he watched the two of us. It was like his gaze was transfixed on Minseok and I.

“That sound good for you,” Minseok asks, walking over to the bed.

Sehun nods, “Yes sir, it sounds wonderful.”

Minseok smiles, laughing, “On your knees, Sehun. Show Y/N how much of a cockslut you are.”

“Yes sir,” Sehun nods, flipping over obediently. Nervously, I get on the bed behind him. I take the lube, making sure to get a lot over my fingers before rubbing a little on his hole. The whine that came from Sehun was loud, as I slowly push in my finger. He moans, his hands grab the sheets, “Another, please, Y/N, your fingers as so small!”

Two fingers, spread out as I thrust then in and out. Sehun could sigh in pleasure, pushing back against my hand. I let my hand get faster, pulling little moans out of Sehun.

Minseok opens the drawer, looking in as I push in another finger, as Sehun pushes back against them. “Which one do you want tonight,” Minseok asks, looking at Sehun.

“Blue,” Sehun says, “The blue one, sir.” He looks back at me, “Please, I need more, Y/N!”

Minseok smirks, “I think he’s prepared enough.” Sehun lets out an undignified huff at that sentence as I slip my fingers out. Minseok moves over, attaching the blue dildo onto the strap on I was wearing. “There we go.”

I moved back behind Sehun, Minseok moving behind me, the bag of mysteries beside him. Minseok takes the bottle of lube, before wrapping his hand around the blue dildo, his arms around me. “Don’t touch his cock, Y/N,” Minseok says in my ear, his breath warm on my skin.

“Yes sir,” I say with a nod.

“You make him cum and I’ll make sure to pay you back,” He mutters, kissing my shoulder while looking over it. “Alright, now slow. Put your hands on his hips, he likes that.”

I was thankful Minseok was guiding me though this, as I have no idea where to start with this. He reaches around as I grab Sehun’s hips, my fingers digging into his skin. Minseok’s hands grabs his ass, pulling his cheeks apart. I carefully line it up, before pushing my hips forward. Before, when Sehun and I had sex, he wasn’t loud. Sure, he talked, gasped, groaned and moaned, but it was pretty quiet. Now, no so much. He let out a loud moan, his face turned to the side. “Oh, fuck,” He says, fingers holding the blanket tightly. Finally, I bottom out, giving him a few moments to adjust.

“You did so well, Y/N,” Minseok says in my ear, kissing my shoulder softly. He looks at Sehun in front of us, a smile on his face. “Sehunnie, make sure to tell me when you’re about to cum,” Minseok says, slapping his ass before moving his hands up my skin. I could feel his now bare chest on my back, warm and smooth. “This is our first time, all three of us. I’d hate to have to punish you for being a bad boy.” Minseok nibbled a little on my shoulder, before whispering, “Alright, he’s ready.”

“I will, sir,” He says, his voice loud and airy as I started to slide back out and pushing back in. Sehun was practically mewling, arching his back as he closed his eyes, lost to the feeling. Between that and the feeling of Minseok softly touching and kissing my neck and shoulder, I was getting more and more wet. There was something about the fact that I was making Sehun feel this way that just turned me on more than I thought it would.

Minseok’s hands slide off Sehun, onto my hips and upwards. They got to my chest, lightly playing with my breasts, as he pushed his hips into me, letting me feel his hard erection. I sighed, starting to pick up the pace a little. The moan that came from Sehun was absolutely sinful.

“Sehun, get on you back,” Minseok said, as one of his hands left me to reach into the bag that had the strap on harness in it. I watched, concentrating on moving out of Sehun’s way.

Sehun moved so fast, moaning at the feeling of the blue cock leaving him and gasping as he laid back, his head against the pillows. His cock was hard, lying against his toned stomach as we waited for Minseok’s instructions. Sehun looked so blown away, face red as his eyes met the sight of us, whining at the lack of thrusting. I pushed in again, this time thrusting a bit quicker, though it wasn’t exactly my doing.

Minseok presses his hips into me, pressing mine forward fast. Sehun practically chokes on air, “Fuck, yes, more!”

Lost in the sight of Sehun, I jump a little, feeling something hard on my breast. I look, seeing a little clamp on one of my nipples before Minseok put the other on.

I open my mouth to say something only for Minseok’s fingers to go in. I gasped, hearing the man chuckle behind me. “Look at you both. You’re both like my little sex puppets, arently you?”

“Yes,” Sehun gasped out, moving his hips to connect them to mine in time with my thrusts. I try to mutter the words as best as I could, Minseok’s hand making it difficult. I licked his fingers, making the man behind me let out a small moan.

“Now, fuck Sehun. Don’t go slow. Make him cry from wanting to cum so bad,” Minseok growls into my ear.

Minseok reached his other hand forward, holding Sehun’s hip, keeping him at a specific angle as I pushed my hips forward. Sehun lets out a loud moan, one hand gripping Minseok’s arm as the other held onto the bed tightly. I used one hands to hold Sehun’s other hip while the other was holding Minseok’s arm as he wiggled the fingers in my mouth. I sucked lightly, hearing him take a deep breath behind me.

Minseok softly kisses my shoulder, looking at Sehun, “Sehunnie, be a good little cockslut and tell Y/N how good she’s fucking you.”

Sehun’s eyes opened, looking at the two of us as he just gasps as I thrust my hips forward quickly. “Y/N, it feels so good! Y-you’re a natural at this!”

I couldn’t help but feel some pride at the fact I was the one making Sehun like this. I thrust forward quickly again, this time Sehun cried out, his body arching as his hands grip tighter. “Fuck! Sir, can I cum please?”

I suck on Minseok fingers, waiting to hear what he wanted to say.

“No,” Minseok says, using his hips to thrust mine forward hard again. Sehun yells out, and I moan around Minseok’s fingers as I could feel his very obvious arousal which only seemed to get harder and harder the more he watched us. He looked over my shoulder, watching me push in and out of Sehun. “Not yet. You can last a little longer.”

Sehun’s hand that was gripping the bed moved to grab my wrist. While it was tight, it wasn’t tight enough to leave a bruise. His chest was heaving up and down as he was completely slick with sweat.

I moan as Minseok’s fingers leave my mouth, going and gripping my hair tightly. “Keep going just like that, ok? After he cums, take the harness off and I want you to lay beside him, ok?”

I nod, muttering “Yes Sir!” I watch as Minseok moves from behind me to move next to Sehun. Sehun was looking at him, his eyes desperate as he was moaning and groaning out. Minseok smiles, leaning forward and giving Sehun a quick kiss. He moves, taking Sehun’s cock in his hand as he looks over at him. “You can cum now, Sehun,” Minseok mutters, before wrapping the tip of Sehun’s cock with his mouth, sinking down a little, sucking him as I kept slamming into him.

Sehun’s body shuttered as I tried to keep my pace, thrusting as hard and as fast as I could. He was a yelling moaning mess until he just stopped. All sounds stopped as his body tensed up. A few seconds later, he relaxed lying back against the bed, looking blissful and sexy.

As quickly as I could, I took the harness off, slipping next to Sehun, right between Sehun and Minseok.

Leaning down, Minseok opens his mouth and lets Sehun’s cum land in the valley between my breasts. He looks up, “Stay like this. If any of it spills I’ll spent the rest of the night edging you and never letting you cum, is that understood? That’s there for Sehun.”

“Yes sir,” I say, nodding.

“Sehunnie, are you back down to earth yet,” Minseok asks, his voice soft and sweet.

The prince nods, looking over at me and Minseok. His hair was a bit wet with sweat as he smiles, glancing from myself of Minseok.

“Good,” Minseok says, moving. He quickly starts to remove the last bit of his clothes, Sehun and I just watching with hungry eyes. “Now, I’m going to eat Y/N out, ok baby? I want you to recover and play with her a little. Make sure to lick up the present I left for you too.”

Sehun nods, before turning to me. He leans forward, licking from the bottom of my rib cage to my neck, sucking up the puddle of cum that was there. He quickly smiles, pressing his lips to mine. His tongue met my lips as I opened them, tasting the saltiness of Sehun’s release in his mouth. One of Sehun’s hands pulled lightly at my hair, the other playing with one of the clamps, pulling on it a little.

I could hear Minseok let out a long and loud moan at that, before I felt him pull my legs apart. There was no slowness at all as his tongue instantly met and circled my clit quickly. I pulled away, moaning out loud, some of Sehun’s cum dripping down my chin. Sehun kisses down to my throat, his other hand moving and tugging gently at the clamps on my nipples. I shuttered, one of my hands moving to Minseok’s hair as the other grabbed onto any part of Sehun I could touch.

His tongue was fast and quick, one of his hand moving to my opening, a finger slipping inside. Minseok pulled away, his chin wet. “Damn, you’re so wet. Fucking Sehun really turned you on, hm?”

“Yes sir,” I say and gasp as his finger find the heavenly spot in me, pressing in it softly. “Fuck!” Sehun licks up the spilled cum on my chin, before leaving a bite into my neck.

Another finger, now quicker as Minseok just watches as my breathing quickens. “Sehun, Y/N fucked you so good, the least you can do is some of the things she likes, right? I want you to pull her hair and, when I nod, choke her. Can you do that for me, baby?”

“Yes sir,” Sehun says. He pushes my body up, slipping behind me. I was laying against him, my head on his chest as one hand was loose around my throat, the other giving me a sharp tug to the hair. “Look at him go,” Sehun whispers in my ear. “God, he’s so good at eating you. His chin is literally dripping, Y/N. If fucking me turns you on that much feel free to keep doing it.”

“Fuck,” I say with a gasp, moaning and pushing my hips towards Minseok, who just holds them down with one arm while his fingers thrust into me and he sucks on my clit.

I close my eyes, moaning and pushing myself back into Sehun. “God, he’s so fucking sexy,” Sehun moans in my ear, “I can’t wait to kiss him and taste you. I wonder if he’ll let me lick all of it off him if I ask nicely.” Sehun’s hand pulls at one of the clamps again, as I let out a little scream of pleasure. Minseok’s eyes were on the two of us, watching like a predator. “He’s eating your pussy so good, Y/N. It’s turning me on watching him lick you and finger you.” I felt his hand tighten around my neck. I arch my back, tears coming to my eyes as I look down at Minseok, who was simply there, watching the two of us. Sehun lets go and I yell out a moan. Fucking Sehun turned me on more than I thought it would as I was already feeling like I was going to cum.

“C-can I cum, S-sir,” I ask, out, leaning my head back and looking at Sehun who was just watching me and Minseok, his gaze hungry as he looks over the two of us.

“No, I don’t think so,” Minseok says, before nodding at Sehun once more.

One hand on my throat, the other pulling my hair. My hands gripping Sehun’s legs tightly as I could feel Sehun was already hard again. He lets go and I yell, “Please! Please Sir!”

“Go on then,” Minseok says, before sucking on my clit, three fingers thrusting in and out of me at a brutal pace, hitting the most wonderful of places in me.

Sehun bites down on my shoulder as I scream out, my body shuttering. The hand in my hair remains tight as Minseok kept my hips down forcibly. Tears fell from my eyes as I moaned out word that I couldn’t exactly hear, my mouth working on it’s down before the ball in the pit of my stomach snaps. I yell out, my body igniting in pure pleasure. I was crying, gasping for air desperately before falling limply against Sehun.

My body was covered in sweat as Minseok leaned back, smiling as he looked at Sehun and I. He quickly moved up, kissing Sehun, letting the young prince lick my juices off his lips and chin just like he wanted. Minseok is a very attentive lover. He could hear Sehun say those things even as he concentrated on making me cum. Sehun moans as he licks the eldest, who’s eyes just look from him to me. “Prep her, I have an idea,” Minseok said, smiling as he laid back, his hand grabbing his cock and moving up and down slowly.

In one quick movement, I found myself face down on my knees. I could hear the cap of the lube before one finger slowly enters me. I gasp, his finger feeling foreign there. It’s been a long time since I’ve done this.

“It’s ok,” Sehun says, his lips kissing my lower back softly as he works me open. Then another, making me grip the bed a bit, but it didn’t feel bad. Soon enough, I felt myself thrusting back against his fingers.

“Staddle me, Y/N,” Minseok says, laying down against the bed. I move over him, smiling as I watch him look up at me like I was a wonder of the world. “I want to try both of us with you at the same time. Is that ok?”

I nod, my face feeling hotter than it was. Just the thought of it sounded like it would be amazing. “I’ll tell you if it hurts, I promise.”

Minseok smiles, “Good girl. Now, come here and let me feel your pussy around my cock.”

I line him up, before sinking down slowly. I lean forward, on my hands, feeling Sehun come up behind me, his hand rubbing lube all over his thick cock. I lean, showing him where to put it as I feel the tip of him. Sehun went slow, as I grip the sheets and Minseok. They give me a moment to get use to the feeling. At first it felt like I was going to rip apart at the seams. But after a few moments, my body adjusted and the feeling was absolutely mindblowing. Minseok plants his legs, before slowly thrusting in and out.

I moan loudly, hearing Sehun groan out too. “Fuck,” He gasps, “I can feel you, sir!”

Now Sehun slowly thrusts too, making me gasp and arch my back. This feeling was indescribable. It didn’t take long before they matched their thrusts, moving in and out at the same time.

Minseok reaches up, pulling one of the clamps off my nipple. I yell, body shuddering. Sehun’s hand grabs my hair, pulling my body up and holding me up as Minseok pulls the other clamp off, fingers flicking and pulling on the super sensitive little buds. I couldn’t control the sounds I was making or the words I was saying. My eyes watering as I was crying from how good it felt. It was overwhelming, but it felt so good I didn’t want to stop.

I leaned back against Sehun, looking down and seeing Minseok thrusting up to me. Sehun quickly moves a hand around me, his fingers rubbing my clit and making me scream out, my body quickly tensing as I came quickly. It was like my orgasm was ripped out of me, leaving me screaming. My body was practically boneless after. I felt Sehun tense behind me, his thrusting stopping as he groaned out our names. He pulls out and I could feel his cum leaking out, making me moan. I don’t know why it did, but it just felt so damn good. A second later, Minseok pushes me so that I was lying against the bed.

Smiling, I look up at him as he starts to quickly thrust into me. I was feeling very sensitive as his hands held my hips tighter and tighter. “I want to see you cum on Sehun,” I say, “Please Sir, if that’s ok.”

“Lay down,” Minseok practically growls out over at Sehun. He quickly moves, leaving me and hovering over Sehun. I move, replacing my hands with his as I stroke him, watching as his face contorted in pleasure. Streaks of cum shoot from the tip, landing on Sehun’s chest and abs. Minseok was hunched over as I grip him, making sure to milk as much cum as I could from him.

Before either of them could move, I quickly lick up as much as I could. Minseok just moans at the sight. I move up to Sehun, winking before pressing my lips to his, giving him a sloppy kiss. Sehun moaned at the taste, holding my face to his as his hands run over my skin.

Minseok moved, laying next to Sehun, just watching us as we kiss one another. I moved, letting the little bit of cum that was still in our mouths fall from mine to his as me swallows it quickly, before smiling at me.

“You two are going to be the death of me,” Minseok says, leaning forward and kissing me quickly, before kissing Sehun.

I smile, “I love you both but I need a shower before I can sleep.”

“I think we all do,” Sehun says, looking from me to Minseok.

“No shower sex,” Minseok says, looking at Sehun and I. “Remember, Sehun, we slipped and almost broke something last time.”

“That’s what you took away from that? What I learned is that we should remodel the shower,” Sehun say with a smile. “Put in like a bench or something.”

I smile, before getting up, “You both change the sheets, I’ll get the shower started, deal?”

Sehun nods, “And besides, you and I both came twice, but Minnie only got one.”

“Sounds like we need to find a way to even the score,” I say with a grin.

“I said no shower sex,” Minseok says, quickly getting up.

“Shower blowjobs are nowhere near as dangerous,” Sehun says with a smile, before getting up. “Besides, Y/N and I really like the look you get when you watch us kiss when our mouths are full of your cum.”

“I’m going to die from cumming to much,” He says with a smile as he gets some spare sheets.

[thearcaneescape]

Chapter 3

Waking up to the smell of bacon and the barking of dogs was both reassuring and haunting. He shot up from the bed, hair flopping all around, but a quick scan of his surroundings made him calm down.

“What time is it?” He groaned his way out of bed, dragging his feet to the boxes to pull on a pair of pajama trousers and a new shirt. A knock to the door made him jump slightly.

“Are you decent?” Jin’s voice was a little muffled by the door, but still melodious as all hell. A shrill bark accompanied the question, followed by a hushed reprimand from Jin. “Breakfast is ready.”

Hoseok groaned once more, stretching in such a way that his back cracked in one fell swoop before opening the door with a sleepy smile. “Mornin’.”

Jin’s smile was bright and wide awake, and a small grey ball of fluff was jumping up at Hoseok, tongue out and tail wagging. “Good morning. This is Odeng, and Eomuk is with Joon in the kitchen.” Hoseok followed Jin to the kitchen, blinking rapidly at the relatively bright sunshine, trying to get his eyes accustomed to the light. When he finally got his eyes to focus, he saw Joon sitting at the table. Joon was dressed in soft pastels, hair tied back in a simple braid, unlike yesterday’s French, pierced ears boasting bigger and thinner hoops and chains, more feminine than the ones yesterday. The open-front pink jumper was draped over a black shirt the Hoseok had seen employees use at FOPP with a nametag on the front saying My name is Joon, with a little washable marker addendum (she/her).

“Good morning! You out-slept all of us.” Joon said, a beaming smile on her face. Another pomeranian was sitting at her stockinged feet, white kneesocks matching the pale cream skirt she was wearing, and the pom was the same grey as Odeng.

“I was kinda tired.” Hoseok mumbled, rubbing his eyes in an attempt to clear them of sleep. “I’m a pretty deep sleeper, too, so I didn’t hear anything.”

“Good, because Joon snores really loudly.” Jin had walked to the stove during Hoseok and Joon’s interaction, a low chuckle escaping the man. “It’s one of the things we have a separate savings account for, surgery for Joon’s bridge.”

Hoseok winced, sitting down in front of Joon. The makeup she was wearing was minimal, lipgloss and a swipe of soft pink on her eyelids, very unlike Jin’s makeup in the club.

“It hasn’t gotten any worse, but it’s annoying.” She shrugged and checked her watch, sighing. “Speaking of annoying, I have to go to work.” With a final drink from the coffee cup in front of her, Joon stood up and walked to Jin, giving him a kiss on the cheek and waving goodbye to Hoseok, who waved back. “I’ll see you at the bar, Jinnie.”

“I’ll bring your uniform.”

The door clicked closed and Hoseok looked at Jin plating a generous but smaller portion of scrambled eggs on toast, bringing it to Hoseok alongside a cup of coffee.

“Do you want to come to the bar again tonight? Have a cute time with the brats? I’m pretty sure Jimin wants to do your face.” Jin chuckled, sitting down across from Hoseok.

“Oh, wow. You know, I’d let him. And, yeah, that’d be nice.” He took a sip from his coffee, licking his teeth. “I’m actually surprised that I’d never really heard about the club until yesterday.”

Jin let out a deep sigh, rubbing his chin slowly. “It’s not the biggest club in Soho, and to be honest it barely is a club, it’s more like a speakeasy. We’re in absolutely desperate need of exposure and staff. Kook is our only bartender.”

Hoseok choked on the mouthful of honestly absolutely delicious scrambled eggs. Only one bartender? Were they that desperate, and with such good ideas? “Wait, seriously?”

Jin nodded, fiddling around with the cup that Joon had left behind. It was heavily chipped and small cracks could be seen on the surface. “Yeah, we’ve lost some of the girls and even with Tae and Jimin still here, they bring in a good crowd, Sugar is barely scraping by with this club. The burlesque makes good money, but whenever we try to diversify with a more relaxed evening, it just doesn’t work that well.”

Hoseok swallowed his mouthful with difficulty, an unusual feeling of worry settling into his belly. Something about Jin’s solemn and melancholy expression was heartwrenching. From what he’d told Hoseok last night, Sugar’s bar was his home, and everyone there was family. Losing it would mean losing passion and some extra money to put into Joon’s surgery and money to be able to keep the dogs well-fed.

“I’ve been looking for an extra job. I was a waiter during Uni, Jungkook could teach me how to bartend.” Hoseok rasped out, nervous energy thrumming through his veins.

Jin’s eyes widened, and he let out a soft sound, of what, Hoseok wasn’t sure. “Oh, you don’t have to do that-”

“But I want to. I need more money anyway, and if I’m staying here indefinitely I should help with the rent, at least until I can get back on my feet, and the bar is such a welcoming environment.” Hoseok was hovering a couple of centimeters from his seat, hands pressed against the wooden tabletop. He fell back into the chair, some of the energy leaving him after the outburst. Jin let out a soft laugh, and he ran a hand through his hair.

“Oh, alright. Sugar is gonna be at the bar, he always is. He gets ready with us.” Jin swirled around his coffee in the cup, a soft smile on his pink lips. “Who knows, maybe he’d even rope you in to performing with us.”

---

Walking into the bar before it even opened was a new experience. House lights were on, and now Hoseok could see how run-down the place actually looked. There were cracks in the ceiling and the bar was irreparably stained.

“Woah.”

Jin looked at him and sighed, pulling the duffel bag with his and Joon’s clothes for tonight higher up on his shoulder. “Oh, yeah. It’s a bit worse for wear, but, it’s home.”

“Ain’t that true!”

Hoseok whirled around to give Jimin a wide smile, making the younger smile even wider than he already was, eyes turning into slits.

“Did Jin tell you I want to do your face?”

Hoseok nodded, rubbing the back of his neck slowly. “Ah, yeah, he did.” He tried to avoid looking into the big, wide puppy-dog eyes that Jimin was giving him, but the power they held was palpable and he caved almost immediately. “Alright, sure. Do the whole shebang.”

Jimin squealed and grabbed Hoseok’s hand, dragging him and a duffel bag bigger than himself to the dressing rooms, where Taehyung was already half-painted.

“Judging by how my boyfriend is quite literally vibrating in excitement, you agreed to letting him paint your face?” Taehyung turned to look at them, hair pushed back with a hairband and lines of unblended and half-blended, black and white contour and highlight on his face, eyes already made up with glittering silver eyeshadow and a modest cat eye. The dress on the mannequin behind him was even more extravagant than yesterday’s, silver satin cinched tight around the mannequin, the dropped waist turning into a short train at the back. The mannequin head sported a pinned silver-grey wig that matched Taehyung’s natural hair.

“He said “the whole shebang”, which is awesome, because I already have the perfect outfit for him!” Jimin pushed Hoseok to sit down before rummaging around in the gigantic duffel and pulling out his own outfit for the night. It was a cream-colored strapless bustier bra with a matching corset with various fake flowers on the edge of it to make a tutu of various colours. The bra and the corset had gold ribbing criss-crossing them, adding to the fantasy. The outfit that was pulled out next was a more direct homage to Victor/Victoria, with a sprinkling of Dita Von Teese. The mannequin next to Taehyung’s was immediately dressed up, white sleeveless button-up under a black bolero-cut swallow-tail tux jacket, and a high-waisted swing skirt that would fall to the knees.

“The lingerie comes after!”

Hoseok had his hands pressed on his cheeks, excitement running through his body. He’d actually let an artist friend of his do him up for Halloween, and even then the clothes had been very ill-fitting. Jimin stood next to him, makeup bag placed on the table in front of Hoseok, and a big shining smile on his face.

“Are you ready?”

Hoseok nodded, and settled into the seat, helping Jimin put a headband on his hairline to keep his overgrown bangs out of his face. Immediately after that, the door crashed open and a very tall someone made their way into the room.

“Oh, hi, Sugar!” Taehyung crowed, not even looking over at who Hoseok now knew was Sugar. Hoseok, on the other hand, turned his head to look at the man. He was tall, taller than even Joon, with a sharp jaw and nose, high cheekbones and black hair cut into an undercut not unlike Joon’s. He was imposing and intimidating, having shrugged off his jacket to reveal a low-cut black tank top and multiple colourful tattoos that went all the way to his fingertips, multiple scrapes and bruises on his face and knuckles. There was even some blood dripping from his palms

“Who’s the new guy?” Sugar’s voice was rough and sleepy, like he’d smoked ten packs of cigarettes before he’d walked into the bar.

“This is Hoseok! He’s letting me make him up for tonight.” Jimin aimed one of his signature smiles at the sleepy-and-disgruntled-looking Sugar, making the taller man smile.

“Is that the outfit you’re putting him in? What colors are you going for with the face?” Sugar sat down languidly on the chair next to Hoseok, his own makeup bag being thrown on the table.

“I was thinking of a red eye and lip with black liner? Keep it simple.” Jimin had tugged his own hair back into a half-pony. Sugar nodded, reaching out slowly with an impeccably manicured hand, fake acrylic nails sharp black with silver studs.

“May I?”

When Hoseok nodded, Sugar cradled his face gently, turning it side to side curiously before humming softly. “You have great bone structure there, mate. Jimin’ll have a blast doing your face.” He said, a soft smile on his face before he turned to look at his own mirror.

There was a moment of silence while Jimin prepped Hoseok’s face, gently massaging his skin with moisturiser. The door opened once more and Jin walked in, a tired and splotchy-faced Joon behind him.

“Heya, Sugar.” Jin’s voice was barely a whisper, and that made the taller Sugar stand up. He outstretched his arms towards Joon, who was very visibly shaken, and she fell into his arms with a shudder.

“Come on. Let’s go to my office.”

The silence that followed was more tense than ever, with Jimin chewing his lower lip nervously and Taehyung standing up to hug his boyfriend.

“What was that?”

Jimin sighed heavily, shaking his head. “We get some people who harrass Joonie. Before, Joonie wouldn’t tell us it was happening, but Sugar saw it happening once and that was one of the worst days we’ve ever had here.”

“Yeah, he walked in completely bloodied up and we had to close the bar for the evening.” Taehyung said, a frown on his face as he recounted that evening. “Joon was fine, but Sugar was out of commision for almost 5 months, and with how the bar’s been doing, he and his partner had to pay out of pocket for the surgery and the recovery.”

Hoseok swallowed with difficulty, pain settling behind his sternum. It was ludicrous, what he was hearing. This was Soho, for crying out loud. Wouldn’t there be more solidarity for people like Joon? Apparently not. Jimin patted Taehyung’s shoulder, prompting him to go back to finishing up, clearing his throat as he picked up the bottle of foundation from his makeup bag.

“I think we’re going to need a new waiter. Joon is a bit out of it tonight, she needs an isolated space.” Sugar had walked back into the dressing room, running a hand through his hair. “We need new staff in general.” He muttered, looking up at the three pairs of wide eyes looking at him. His dark eyes landed on Hoseok’s face, and he raised an eyebrow. “Do you have any experience as a waiter?”

Hoseok nodded, and something in him knew that today wouldn’t be the only day he’d see blood in the dressing room.

[returnsandreturns]

I very, very quickly wrote more of this ficlet I posted at some point. Thanksgiving is a trash holiday, but I’m very thankful for you.

The last person he’s expecting to see when he shows up a few hours early to Thanksgiving at his parent’s place is Matt Murdock.

Well–okay, the last person he expected to see was his Aunt Virginia, who literally died earlier that year. Second place, though, goes to Matt, who’s wearing one of his mom’s aprons—bright red polka dots—and mashing potatoes in the kitchen. He looks contrite when Foggy walks in.

“I told her I shouldn’t come,” he says, with the tiniest smile.

“And I told him,” Foggy’s mom says, “that if I didn’t see him in my kitchen to help taste test, I was going to find him and give him a shiner he won’t forget.”

Matt actually looks surprisingly uninjured now, dressed in a dark green sweater and nice jeans, his hair combed neatly. He’s thinner, but Foggy’s mom is clearly working on that. He almost looks like he did back in college, which makes something squeeze painfully in Foggy’s chest.

“I couldn’t turn down that offer,” Matt says, which is bullshit.

“Of course not,” Foggy says. “She’s terrifying.”

“Keep your eye on the turkey,” his mom says, poking Foggy in the chest as she passes him. “I’m going to go check on your father, they were talking politics in the den and I think there might be a scuffle.”

Foggy tries to say something to make her stay, but then she’s gone. Foggy wouldn’t be surprised if she’d shoved a chair up against the kitchen door to keep them locked in. The Nelsons are not known for being subtle.

Foggy sighs and runs a hand through his hair.

“She’s probably gonna keep us in here until we kiss and make up, you know,” he says.

Something kind of flickers on Matt’s face, like he just had an idea he thinks Foggy won’t like, like abandoning a high paying job or fighting criminals with his fists.

“Well,” Matt says, stepping forward.

“Well?” Foggy asks.

Matt reaches up to cup Foggy’s face in his hands and press a soft kiss to his mouth.

“There,” he says, quietly, smiling before he brushes past Foggy and out of the room. Foggy reaches up to touch his mouth.

“What,” he says, to the empty kitchen.

*

“You shouldn’t have invited him,” Foggy says, when his mom comes back. She frowns at him.

“I can invite whoever I want into my home,” she says, in a voice that immediately makes him feel like he’s thirteen years old and trying poorly to rebel against her completely reasonable authority. “I don’t know what tiff you boys have gotten into, but Matt’s a part of this family just as much as you are.”

“. . .you like him more than me,” Foggy huffs, because she’s right. Matt’s not just his.

“You found me out,” she says, serenely, kissing him on the cheek before she brushes past him to continue cooking. “I tried to replace you with him but he was too nice to agree to it.”

Foggy smiles and rolls his eyes.

“Just—give me a head’s up next time, ma?”

“Make up with that boy so I won’t have to,” she says, without turning around.

Foggy wants to have a comeback or maybe tell her about the extralegal crimefighting, but he doesn’t do either of those things. He can’t make up with Matt today, but he can be civil, for her sake.

As long as he doesn’t kiss him again, at least.

*

In the living room, Matt’s being heavily flirted with by one of Foggy’s distant cousins. He can’t even remember her name, but she’s laying it on thick, and Matt’s clearly trying to edge his way out of the conversation. Foggy gets a terrible idea. Absolutely awful. Completely ill-advised and likely to lead to unnecessary shenanigans.

He’s gonna do it anyway.

He walks over and slides an arm around Matt’s waist, turning to press a firm kiss to his cheek.

“Hey, baby,” he says, indulgently. Matt goes stiff for a full five seconds before he sinks against Foggy, smiling kind of fiercely.

“Hey,” he says. “Heather here was just telling me all about her podcast.”  

“Oh, cool,” Foggy says, grinning at her. “I want to hear everything.”

“Uh—maybe later,” Heather says, already sulking and backing off. Foggy keeps his arm around Matt for a moment before he lets go of him. Matt turns to face him, smiling cautiously.

“Thanks,” he says.

“Why did—actually, come with me,” Foggy says, taking Matt’s arm and leading him through the small crowd of his family until they can step into the bathroom together. Matt raises his eyebrows at him.

“Yeah?” he asks.

“Why did you kiss me?”

“. . .because I wanted to,” Matt says, after a long moment.

“Since when?” Foggy asks.

He’s thought about kissing Matt before, mostly in the abstract, but now that it’s happened—he’s not sure how to handle it.

“I’m not sure,” Matt says, making one of his charming bashful faces that aren’t exactly honest and shifting on his feet. “Maybe since I realized it wasn’t an option anymore.”

“So,” Foggy says. “You want me because you can’t have me.”

“I wanted you before,” Matt says, “but—I didn’t want to fuck everything up.”

“Well, you’ve already done that,” Foggy says. He maybe had a hand in it, but he’s still okay with wholesale blaming Matt. Matt, who’s—moving closer. Who’s got that same look on his face. Soft and reckless.

“Nothing stopping us then,” he says, tilting his head, licking his lips. Foggy’s seen this act work on girls before, and he’s not completely ashamed that it’s working on him right now. It’s time-tested. He lets Matt back him up against the door gently and brush fingers through his hair.

“Yeah,” Foggy breathes.

Matt kisses him. It’s sweet and careful, Foggy’s face cradled in his hands.

“Foggy?” he asks, softly, against Foggy’s mouth. When Foggy makes a questioning noise, Matt asks, “Why did you kiss me? Out there?”

To save you, Foggy thinks. To save you from aggressive podcaster flirting.

“Because I wanted to,” he says, and Matt’s smile is genuine and warm.

They’re going to have to go outside and face his family, who either saw or have since heard about what Foggy did. His mother will be overjoyed. They’ll—have to leave this bathroom eventually and deal with the fact that they aren’t even friends anymore.

For now, though, Matt’s body is warm against his and he doesn’t want to let go yet. They can wait until the turkey’s done, at least.