#whisks are a fucking nightmare to wash

[deityofhearts]

what’s everyone’s least favorite kitchen appliances and utensils? mine are: toasters, pressure cookers and whisks and tongs. also air fryers

[babyleostuff]

svt with a s/o who loves cooking/ baking | ot13

the ones that cannot cook to save their life - pulling you was the best thing to happen in their life: 

𐙚🧸ྀི wonwoo, vernon, chan, hoshi

in their eyes you're the coolest person alive - how are you able to cook and bake so well is a mystery for them. nonetheless, they’d love to accompany you whenever you’d be cooking/ baking, even if they’d just be watching, while having this cute lovestruck gaze that’d follow your every move. even though they wouldn't help much with the cooking/baking, they would take care of taking away the dirty dishes and washing them, or wiping the countertops if they got dirty, so as not to be completely useless (even though having them, even if they’d just be watching, would be more than enough for you). if you ever baked something, they’d probably take it to practice too, and if anyone would ask them what they were eating, they’d shyly mention that you made it.

his cooking skills are okay-ish, he won’t burn the kitchen down (the food somehow always end up being ass): 

𐙚🧸ྀི jeonghan, joshua, woozi, minghao, seungkwan 

having a partner who can cook and bake so well feels like such a blessing for them. they’d always inhale the food you made, and mention every other second how great it was, and that they have never anything as good as this (they say that anytime you cook/bake something). they'd be a bit hesitant to help you out, worried they might mess something up, but with your encouragement, and directions on what they’re supposed to do, they’d get the hang of it very quickly, and you’d end up having such a fun time. if they took the lunch or snacks you prepared for them to practice, they'd go around and tell people that you made it and that they miss out on so much good food (if anyone asked them for a bite of the food, they’d side eye them and walk away).

the ones that would love to cook alongside you, they wouldn’t burn the kitchen, and the food would be edible: 

𐙚🧸ྀི coups, jun, dk, mingyu

cooking together equals date nights, they’d never miss out on spending quality time with you, and the fact that food is involved? they’re in heaven. you’d have the best time talking, messing around, probably making fun of each other from time to time for messing something up. it’d be so domestic, and they only word you’d be able to describe it as would be home. yep, that’s what home feels like. i’d be a bit hesitant when it comes to baking, though. they’d be like: fuck the proportions, let’s freestyle, and it’d just end up in a huge disaster (i still have nightmares from nana tour, when mingyu wasn’t able to whisk the eggs, my slavic ass is sweating). you can be sure the food would be inhaled by them in less than ten seconds, because if there’s something they love more than cooking with you, it’s eating what you have prepared. 

taglist (if you want to be added, check my masterlist): @jeonghansshitester @weird-bookworm @sea-moon-star @hanniehaee @wonwooz1 @byprettymar @edgaralienpoe @staranghae @itza-meee @eightlightstar @immabecreepin @whatsgyud @hyneyedfiz @honestlydopetree @vicehectic @dkswife @uniq-tastic @marisblogg @aaniag @daegutowns @carlesscat-thinklogic23 @embrace-themagic @ohmyhuenings @nidda13 @hrts4hanniehae @k-drama-adict @isabellah29 @f4iryjjosh @bangantokchy @mrswonwooo @bangtancultsposts @lllucere @athanasiasakura @chillseo @onlyyjeonghan @haecien @caramyisabitchforsvtandbts @hannahhbahng @valgracia @ohmygodwhyareallusernamestaken @mirxzii @hhusbuds @wonranghaeee @rosiesauriostuff @gyuguys @aaasia111 @tomodachiii @veryfabday @lilmochiandsuga @asasilentreader @mrsnervous @bewoyewo @sharonxdevi @wondipity @gyuguys @raginghellfire @treehouse-mouse @waldau @wonootnoot @hellodefthings @dokyeomkyeom @sourkimchi @bbysnw @haneulparadx @zozojella @hoichi02

[super-ion]

The Engineer

Part 2

I wake from a nightmare.

It isn't my nightmare.

Well… it is mine. My brain provided the framework and context. I was in the training console, one of the battle sims, one of the ones where everything goes to shit, one of the ones where they fuck up the parameters just to watch you panic and squirm until you fucking crack.

That was me. I cracked. Four of the hell sims and I cracked hard.

The battle in the nightmare wasn't a sim. It was real. It was Morrigan's.

I'm sitting in my quarters, sweating and trembling, clutching at my chest as I try to sort out what's mine and what's Morrigan's.

Neural bleed.

Fuck.

No… it's… I've run through the playback, in full, three times with Morrigan. It's enough times for the individual events to stick in my brain.

That doesn't explain the screaming.

It doesn't explain the soul rending scream that is still echoing in my skull right now.

Zephyrus was a sabre class, front line heavy. The team has spent... I don't even know how many hours in the playback analyzing the battlespace in the moments before Zephyrus’ pilot died? The rogue incendiary burned straight into the cockpit, the pilot was probably vaporized before they even realized their error.

But Zephyrus screamed. It screamed and screamed and screamed.

Morrigan had muted that part, trying to spare me, but it fucking bled through the link anyway. Now I'm having fucking nightmares of the sound of someone becoming unmade.

Salvage ops recovered the mech, whisking it off to god knows where.

I don't actually know what happens to AI's that lose their pilots. It's my job to keep them alive, not deal with them after the fact.

I've… shit… I've worked on Zephyrus. It wasn't the same as Morrigan. None of them are the same as Morrigan, but… shit…

I shuck off my tangled sheets and sit on the edge of the bed, futilely trying not to let my thoughts get away from me.

There had been a personality matrix meant for me. There had to have been. Mech AIs are completely custom made for their pilots. Mine likely wasn't much past the most basic template by the time I washed out, nothing more than a collection of algorithms and a dataset consisting of my psych profile.

It never got to be.

Was that better or worse than the horrible scream that I can still hear?

I can't be alone right now.

I jump off the bed and pull on some clothes, leaving the room without even knowing where I'm going.

I pass a few of the night crew. They watch curiously as I walk by. An engineer, barefoot in her night clothes, can hardly be the strangest thing they've seen.

I barely notice them.

My thoughts are spiraling now.

I was meant to be a pilot. It's the only thing I ever actually wanted. But I fucked it all up. I tricked everyone, myself included, into thinking that I could make the cut.

Fucking hell. A pilot died and I'm fixating on my own feelings of inadequacy?

What would I have done? What could my presence in the battlefield have changed?

Chances are it would have been me dying… or worse, freezing up and getting someone else killed.

I freeze, my wrist hovering uncertainly over a security access reader. With a sickening, crystalizing clarity, I realize that I have unconsciously made my way to her. Beyond the security door is the vestibule leading to Morrigan's cockpit.

What the fuck am I doing here?

My presence at this hour, though odd, would not be remarked upon. It is not uncommon for engineers to have moments of insight in the middle of the night. It is not uncommon for us to need to access hardware for analysis and simulation at all hours.

But tonight there is no flash of insight. Tonight, I'm not even an engineer. I'm just a scared little girl wrapped up in her own feelings of failure, with a head full of someone else's grief.

Neural bleed.

I can't deny it. I'm spending too much time with Morrigan. I should go back to my quarters, request a psych eval and some time off, try to get my head on straight.

And yet, I hesitate.

I want to step through this threshold. I want to go to her. And… what?

I can't integrate with her, not in any kind of way that matters, not with my engineer's rig.

I will *never* experience the full body sensorium of a pilot linking with her mech. It is horrible knowing I was meant for something, having full awareness of all the expectations of me, both external and internal, only to have that life snatched away because I wasn't good enough. Half my soul is missing. There's this yawning void inside me that can never be filled. Not by Morrigan or anyone.

I wipe a tear off my face. I'm in no state to do any sort of interfacing. I'm in no state for much of anything.

I don't want to be alone. I don't know how to not be alone

I press my wrist to the security panel. It confirms my identity and flashes green.

My access will be logged. This is a horrible impulse to follow for so many reasons.

I don't fucking care.

It takes everything I have to maintain composure, to not burst into tears and run to the open hatch of the cockpit.

The soft red glow illuminating the cockpit brightens slightly, lighting my way.

She knows I'm here.

Does she even want me here? Why would she? I'm not her pilot. I'm not any mech’s pilot.

The glow pulses, beckoning me. The cradle shifts to a configuration that I know is meant for me.

I unzip the sweatshirt that I'm wearing and throw it unceremoniously in the vestibule before falling into her embrace.

It's too familiar, the motions of this routine as her jacks slip into the ports on my rig.

I'm too close.

I'm not close enough.

I nearly sob as data streams into my consciousness. The void fills, just slightly.

All systems green.

It isn't enough. It will never be enough.

It has to be enough.

The data stream ebbs and I receive a ping across the link.

Status?

My breath catches. My eyes flutter open, darting to any one of the many cockpit cameras focused on me.

She wants my status.

“I couldn't sleep,” I tell her. “Bad dreams.”

I don't know how, but she seems to understand. The cradle shifts to a more relaxed posture. She holds me in her embrace as I tell her about the nightmare.

[gnashingwailing]

@fireflywritesgt LOVINGLY WRITING MY UNHINGED CH23 THOUGHTS AND THEN BURYING THEM UNDER A READMORE. I felt such overwhelming hype when I saw we got 2 chapters in 1 day I truly was ready to throw my phone out the fucking window. TOO MUCH JOY FOR ONE LITTLE GNASH... I hadn't even finished processing ch21......

first off pov Joe when he goes to Calloway's to pick up his cute new tailored fit in 3 days

soooo right from the jump. hey.

"“…’cause he’s way better off than I am, it’ll make it harder for me to leave him or something. That he’s luring me in. I mean—” Joe laughed nervously as he steeled himself in preparation for how the captain would react to his next statement “—if it were a giant treating me the way he treats me, everyone would call me a pet.”

“Well of course they would, Joe. That’s because giants are evil.” The captain said matter-of-factly.

He may as well have poked Joe squarely in the eye. Nonetheless, the bartender continued."

hey. UM. Joe you beautiful idiot who canonically has bad luck and, presumably from reading this very chapter, a terrible poker face. Maybe you should have said. Any Other Thing? GODDD in my heart he's definitely sooo overconfident and drunk like wow I am so smooth :) nobody suspects a thing :) while Calloway is having a conversation with him like uh... just saying, but you know, none of us could stop you from. for example. idk. becoming a giant's pet. we wouldn't like that but it's just a random thing that came to mind just now, unrelated to the really tall really wealthy really powerful guy who is afraid of taking advantage of you by luring you in and giving you things like a giant would and maybe isn't treating you like a person. And you're afraid you shouldn't want it. Like BRO IT IS SO OVER FOR YOU even without Harry literally calling Joe's name 3+ times in the dead silence 😭😭😭😭 And presumably Harry having been waiting around there for a while to see Joe! Loitering in a way we know tinies are on guard about since they all noticed that snatcher back in Ch13!

They're idiots ur honor, so true, but it's all worth it to see Joe get rescued and swoon like a damsel ... I definitely wonder if Calloway observed any of that, and what he might think about it if so. >:) May or may not have been daydreaming and writing bits about how horrifying it would be to give your surrogate kid all this well-meaning advice, see him nearly slip to his death, and while you're hurrying down to try and help him, watching him call out to a walking nightmare for help and then get whisked away by it

I have a pet theory that everything we've seen from Calloway so far has been pretty heavily colored by it being from Joe's perspective when he's having a bad day, and maybe he will be more understanding than we think? Objectively, I didn't think he was being very rude or anything back in Ch 13, when he was speculating on Joe's love life. It rankled Joe, which is understandable, but he 1) he's happy that Joe looks good, 2) he doesn't let Gutters or O'Grady rag on Joe too hard and 3) he just generally seems like an interested father figure would about his kid's love life:

"“Oh, lay off him, Tim. It’s a good borrowing year!” Captain Calloway cut in. “We all have ‘em, we all enjoy ‘em, we all cry ourselves to sleep when they’re over.”

Relief washed over Joe like the warm water in Harry’s sink.

“Though I gotta say…” The captain gave a wry smile as he continued. “…it could just as easily be someone else’s good borrowing year if ya’ catch my drift. Could be he’s got a little sweetheart looking after him. A brick of pure chocolate? That’s practically a dowry."”

Although I may be wrong here, since Ch 21's incident at Tiny Town with the Italian mob that saved him gives us the insight that "[for] the first time in Joe’s entire existence at that, Joe understood what it was like to have a real father." So maybe Calloway is not that nurturing to Joe and not much of a caring dad -- as @remordsposthume's tags so wisely point out:

WTF WAS HE DOING LETTING HIM LEAVE THE BAR LMAO. Calloway's Den of Drunkards confirmed for an "everybody drive home drunk. it's not my problem" bar??? Everyone is processing TAoLaW thru their own cultural lens and. in that spirit. lmfao. I must say. Calloway reminds me of the libertarian redneck dads I've known who just let their kids do whatever. If he was a giant I think he'd let his kids ride ATVs thru the woods drunk. Most probably he would also be ridin around drunk with them. "If you die it's your own damn fault" being his motto is too on the nose LOL. Huge farm dad "I LOVE MY SONS. ONLY HALF OF THEM WILL SURVIVE TO ADULTHOOD BUT I DO LOVE THEM" energy. To Me.

(Btw Harry & Joe processing their parental issues together WHEN <3)

BUT ANYWAY YEAH EVEN IF CALLOWAY WAS THE MOST UNOBSERVANT GUY IN THE WORLD RE: THAT SUSPICIOUS CONVERSATION? YOU WERE LITERALLY BOTH SCREAMING EACH OTHERS' NAMES LIKE LOVESICK ROMANCE PROTAGONISTS RIGHT UNDER THE DREDGE THAT'S STILL PROBABLY GOT AT LEAST SOME NIGHT MARKET CUSTOMERS? HELLO?? @94444 we are on the same wavelength rn

AND MORE ABOUT CALLOWAY... I am very heartened by how you mentioned once, Warren, that you planned to give each character real depth and treat them with sincerity. I feel very interested about when that time will be for Calloway! We know that he takes in kids (or at least O'Grady and Joe scratch that. tag lore be upon me) and teaches them how to sell trinkets. We know that he hates giants. We know he's been horribly injured in a way that led to him losing a hand, an eye, and possibly teeth. Knowing what we do about the risks of being a borrower, and how casually cruel giants are to them, it's not unlikely those last 2 things are related. I'M TAKING YOUR TAGS AND RUNNING AWAY WITH THEM LIKE A DOG W SOMETHING IN ITS MOUTH.

So Calloway knew them for several years as vulnerable kids... then lost them for a year or so... then got them back after they escaped the watchmaker's? I will be interested to see if that trauma means he's more protective of them, or uh, still more drunk libertarian dad about them. Lmao. He seemed like he cared about Joe getting into Tiny Town way back in Ch3 tho at least! (as an aside... interested in who Gutters is, too. He SEEMS to be older than Joe/Tim, but he could also still be a Calloway Kid himself... he seems to defer to Calloway... and/or he could just be some guy embittered about giant/tiny relations. which. fair, brother.)

If the broader Tiny Town culture (such as it is... would word get around about this incident with Joe and Harry, or does news just not travel that well amongst lots of secluded borrower communities? much to consider. it makes sense in a dark way why you would physically mark somebody who's transgressed against society's cardinal rule, in a culture where you cannot generally spread information effectively) would reject Joe for his proclivities... will Calloway, too? Or is it Joe's anxiety making him think that? I'm afraid we already know how Tim would feel. Other than him, Calloway is the person who Joe seems most connected to in miniature society... Although Harry's worry about Joe not spending enough time around his fellow miniatures in Ch22 is at least partially motivated by his own guilt-trip, I think he has a bit of a point! I hope Joe doesn't lose touch with everyone -- or if he does, I hope there will be new friends out there for him, too, who are more understanding.

(LORRAINE WHEN)

Now Calloway aside, OBVIOUSLY THE ENDING OF THIS CHAPTER HAD ME HOOTIN AND HOLLERIN.

“Joe… can we go back to the big, sexy giant part for a second?” <- LIT'RALLY me rereading this chapter 800 times

A snapping turtle is a fantastic little horror for poor Joe to face, woof. Those fuckers are scary enough when ur height is measured in feet. The quick way they snap is no joke. Just want to 👏👏👏👏 about how good this passage is: The turtle’s maw emerged from the waters of the lake like the gaping mouth of some ancient monster that fed on the souls of sailors. The grimy lakewater rushed over its beady little eyes as its beak, sharp as a dagger, flew towards Joe faster than a gunshot. YEAH.

It just!! makes my little heart sooooo happy to see that Joe does have someone who will unconditionally look out for him...!!! Harry has his issues, and they're still learning how to open up about themselves, but he consistently shows up!! :') the thought of him waiting for his man all night ... hoping the dredge would be the place Joe meant ... and then acting sooo fast when he saw a tiny guy fall off of it... what a faithful hound of a [future] boyfriend. Calloway is so right. Joe deserves somebody to look after him. And Joe has done the (forgive me for the loaded meme) girl math on this. One big man is the best possible outcome for him. ONLY THE BIGGEST MAN WILL DO to keep him off of his bullshit as much as possible 👍👍

And OF COURSE god their conversation is just so so so fucking funny. "Thank you" "fuck no I'm not" -> "FUCK YOU" is INCREDIBLE i CANNOT STOP THINKING ABOUT IT lmaooooo and Harry still being so gentle about receiving this insult and trying to parse what Joe means ... he does listen to Joe, they're definitely not back to square one as drunk!Joe feared, his own issues are just getting in the way! (And Joe's are getting in the way of him seeing thru Harry's facade into what the real issue is! We love to see it!)

"“I meant that. You don’t get to call me handsome until you start listening to me.” He slurred. “You gotta—you gotta want it.”

Joe crossed his arms and scowled up at the beautiful man and his beautiful face as Harry tried to parse what Joe was saying.

“Want it…?” Harry echoed.

“Yeah. You gotta want to be my friend. And screw what anyone else thinks!”"

And did anyone else cackle at how Joe telephone-gamed Calloway's advice to still be in plausible-deniability-land. "You gotta want to be my friend" ok. not what he fuckin said. run that back real quick -> "Not if you’re being open about what you want and everything. That’s how love works, Joe. You gotta want it."

I just adored the moments of insight between them, too. "... Joe knew his real answer was yes – he was just too afraid to say it overtly. He argued and fought and begrudgingly accepted it instead. / What was that saying to Harry?" vs. Ch22 Harry's revelation: "How much of his relationship with Joe was genuine, he wondered, and how much of it was Joe going along with Harry’s suggestions in the name of diplomacy?"

Joe IS acting like somebody who's being coerced! Harry IS being a trustworthy guy by noticing it and checking in once their relationship is definitely turning intimate! It's so fascinating to think in hindsight that every time Joe turned red and embarrassed, Harry was having a thought at the back of his mind like "he doesn't want this. I'm scaring him. He doesn't want me, and he doesn't even know the real me yet. And worse, he can't tell me, because he's afraid of what I might do to him." But he can't SAY all that because it would hurt too much if he said it and Joe confirmed he was actually correct, so Ch22 comes out as a trainwreck where he's accidentally insulting Joe's ability to survive without him. (Side note I KNEW Harry wasn't REALLY considering Joe his landlord. Sad!!! That fucked up scrawny starving guy has squatter's rights and he was doing pretty good all things considered maybe !!!)

The respective issues ~Society~ has given both of them just make it impossible to talk about the root of their problems without baring your guts in a really terrifying way. OOF.

HOWEVER this chapter confirming that homophobia isn't such a problem in tiny society is going to make this eventual conversation betwen them real interesting... Harry like "You don't understand Joe :( there's something really wrong with me... ... I like ... men..." and Joe being like "omg :) :) :) :) :) wait what's wrong with you tho" and then Joe "No you don't understand Harry :( I know this is sick but... I like.. giants... I'm sure you could never see someone smaller than you as anything other than a pet ..." and Harry just ":) :) :) :) oh what no :) Georgie was shorter than me" I hope they can have a good, baffled laugh at how long they could've been snuggling guilt-free. At the end of the angst. <3

[mimbotomy]

First lines

Tagged by the wonderful @aeide, who included first lines for both their published fics and their unposted WIPs. Y’all would be scrolling for years if I did both bc I have too many fics and WIPs so I’m just going to do the unpublished fics that I’ve worked on the last three months - and you’re still going to be scrolling a lot 😬 I’m sorry!

In the Shadow of Zeus: Kassandra’s years on Kephallonia, as seen from multiple perspectives. This probably won’t end up being the first chapter but the second, but it’s the first chronological snippet I have written.

“Alright, rub a little bit of dirt on your face,” Markos says as their first target comes into sight, “Not too much, just enough to make your tears more obvious. You sure you can cry on command?”

As she has the last two times he’s asked, Kassandra rolls her eyes at him and starts to rub some dust on her cheeks with a surprising lack of complaining for a girl who grew up in relative luxury. Or so he’s assuming, judging from the little he’s been able to figure out about his new ward, as she refuses to talk about anything that led to her washing up on that beach.

But with her Peloponnesian accent and that broken spear that barely leaves her side, he thinks it’s fair to say she’s got Spartan blood in her. Her family had money or power or both too, saying she can read and write better than he can. And for all that she’s only seven, she has some semblance of manners and grace that he’s only seen in the wealthy Achaians he used to serve before he bought his freedom.

If he had to guess, her father was a decently high ranking Spartan officer stationed in Achaia or Elis. Maybe even as far south as Arkadia, depending on how far north that storm managed to take her. And judging from the nightmares Kassandra has had every night for the last ten days, he’s dead, along with her mother and her brother.

Worse, he’s pretty sure Kassandra watched them die.

A Flap of an Eagle’s Wings: my second Odyssey time travel fix it, bc I have a problem, except in this one Kassandra comes back earlier, saves Alexios, and then fucks up the canon timeline with the help of a couple others who came back with her 😳

In the ruins of Atlantis, Kassandra closes her eyes and finally, finally, falls into the long awaited, welcome embrace of Death.

“Earth, mother of all, I greet you.”

There is a crack of thunder that shakes the earth and a strange pressure on her wrist as her body becomes weightless. Thanatos, perhaps, personally escorting her to face the wrath of the King of the Underworld.

She is not afraid though. She had been young and brash and foolish when she last faced Hades and still she had held him at her mercy and stolen his crown as a final insult before Poseidon whisked her away to Atlantis. And she is far more powerful now.

Then there is another rolling crack of thunder, the world goes white behind her closed eyes, and a bond that has been broken for almost two thousand years snaps back into place as she is thrown from Mount Taygetos a second time.

She opens Ikaros’ eyes to see the horror in Nikolaos’, the way he lurches forward as if to try and catch her and the way his face fills with grief when his hand grabs nothing but air. She watches her mother scream her name and nearly throw herself off the mountain after her, only to be stopped by Nikolaos and the other Spartans.

The last thing she sees before Ikaros forces her back to herself is the fury in Myrrine’s eyes as she steals her husband’s sword from his waist and lunges for his throat.

Untitled Alkibiades Time Loop fic: this idea came to me in like a fever dream or something and basically Alkibiades is stuck in a time loop of the day Phoibe and Perikles die trying to save them both. I have about 40/50 at least vaguely planned out and this is loop 7 as of now, the earliest chronologically written.

“Allie,” Kassandra sighs, her brows unfurrowing as she leans back onto the kline. She’s not much older than him to begin with, but she looks even younger as her brows unfurl. Softer. “You know I love you, but I barely have the time to sit right now, let alone - ”

“Phoibe and Perikles will die today.”

Confusion. Grief. Confusion again. Suspicion. He watches Kassandra’s face cycle through a thousand emotions in a second, before she settles on unfathomable rage. Quicker than he can blink, her spear is in her hand and her eyes are full of fire and it’s impossible not to see why so many call her a demigod.

“Start explaining. Now.”

Begin, Muse, When the Two First Broke and Clashed: Deimos’ thoughts, maybe chapter two will be Kassandra’s, at the Battle of Pylos. Aka a small snippet that I just haven’t been able to finish yet for some reason

Sparta has no walls. Sparta has no walls.

According to Pausanias’ foolish boasts, Sparta has no need of walls to protect her people as Athens does. Sparta’s walls are her people, every man from twenty to sixty, born and bred to die defending Lakonia from invaders.

They should build a fucking wall.

Deimos will admit that the Spartans are better trained than the Athenians that fight under his command, but to compare the two is to compare a rat to a mouse. A rat will fight for its life more viciously than a mouse will, a rat will bite harder to try and escape than a mouse will, and a rat will die just as easily as a mouse will.

These Spartans fall to him just as easily as every other man he’s ever faced.

Perhaps his so-called sister will prove to be more of a challenge for him. Otykos trained him the moment he could hold a sword in his hand and she killed him. The Monger had been a monster of a man and she had killed him. Deianeira and her cousin had been deadly for mere mortals and she had killed them. And she tears through his men as easily as he tears through the Spartans. He’d almost find it impressive, but . . . Rats and mice.

Untitled Depressing one shot: inspired by a comment on my HPxOdyssey crossover, this fic is about Barnabas and Herodotos trying to figure out what happened to Kassandra when she doesn’t come back from Atlantis.

They wait three days before they begin to worry.

Kassandra had told them she didn’t know how long her adventure in Atlantis would take when she left them. Aletheia hadn’t been very forthcoming on the details, she had complained, but she had promised them she’d be back soon as she hugged them goodbye. And since soon can mean anything from a few minutes to a few days when Kassandra says she'll be back soon, they had tried not to worry until the third day.

Herodotos finally drags him away when he tries to claw open those cursed doors to Atlantis with his bare hands, tearing his fingers to bloody shreds after he breaks half the swords and javelins on the Adrestia trying to pry those fucking doors open.

Cage the Songbird: a little inspired by the Elton John song of the same name, this is the fic I write when I’m in the middle of a depressive episode, about the last few months before Elpidios’ birth. Featuring a fling gone wrong, one sided Kassandra/Natakas, past Kassandra/Brasidas, Alexios and Kassandra learning how to be siblings without wanting to kill each other, and Barnabas and Herodotos being the best dads.

Natakas wakes up in the bed he made for two, alone, as he has every day for months now. It still hurts.

His father is awake already, sharpening his blade and occasionally stirring a pot of something meaty. He greets him with a warm smile, “Good morning, Natakas. Did you sleep well?”

“Yes, father. Is Kassandra up yet?”

Darius’ smile falls a little as he jerks his head up towards the roof. Kassandra has a hammock tucked away in a small corner in their home, but most nights she sleeps on the roof, on a thick mattress her captain brought her a month ago.

Natakas hates that mattress. He hates that it’s only big enough for her, he hates that it’s softer than the bed he made for the both of them to share, and he hates that when Barnabas brought it, the old man once again tried to convince her to go back to Sparta.

Untitled Alternate POVs: Because the Children of Kephallonia is written entirely from Kassandra’s perspective, something I’m not used to doing, I’m also rewriting parts of the fic from other POVs to help me better figure out the plot, characters, relationships, etc. Just for me right now, but I’ll probably post it on AO3 or my hypothetical patreon someday.

Brasidas has been sitting and half watching the Monger’s warehouse for the last hour or so. Just watching, unfortunately, because as much as he would like to rescue the captives held behind smuggled goods, he is only one man.

Hopefully, he’ll have collected enough information on the guards and their daily routines to bring five or so of his men and raid the warehouse within the week. He can’t afford to let the Monger run wild much longer.

He makes a note that the guard at the dock closest to him switches with a guard at the warehouse door and scrapes the last bit of food from his plate. When he looks back up, the guard at the dock is gone.

Strange.

For a moment, Brasidas wonders if the dock guard just walked a little further down he thought, but then he sees movement at the far end of the dock, a little bit east from where the first guard vanished. Someone comes out of the water and pulls a guard down in the span of seconds, before both disappear entirely.

Indiana Jones and the Staff of Hermes Trismegistus: aka I watched Indiana Jones 5 and have only one braincell and it’s dedicated to loving Kassandra. Also, I wanted to write her killing Nazis 🤷‍♀️

Immortality.

He’s not surprised that’s what the Nazis are after, again. What does surprise him is that they’re not going after something from Judeo-Christian tradition, again. But after their quests for the Ark of the Covenant, the Lance of Longinus, and the Holy Grail all ended with a bunch of dead Nazis and an increasingly enraged fuhrer, perhaps he shouldn’t be so surprised that they’ve decided to look for something even more ancient.

But the Staff of Hermes Trismegistus? Or all the myths to sink their hopes in, they’ve chosen one that the world knows nothing about?

As always, I’m tagging @auroralykos and @aetosavros and anyone else who wants to do this!

[dickfics69]

Emotional Motion Sickness | Part 7

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4 | PART 5 | PART 6 | PART 8 | PART 9

AO3

Summary: Daryl gets sick before a supply run, and denies it vehemently. He is a big tantrum baby. Rick is constantly worried and drama ensures.

Chapter summary: Daryl and Peri's POV. There is a lot of Daryl hurt and angst in this one, he's really going through it mentally

Content warning: adult language, sickfic, mess, snot, bodily functions, hurt/comfort, vivid nightmares, adult content, 18+ for eventual smut (still deciding hehe), original character\

Words: 5k ish

My personal Daryl playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2PrdzgwtCiUgwDLLBy5C4g?si=c83773b44c964bb1

TY to @dumbslxtclub for being my editor

Chapter 7: To build a home

Daryl felt putrid. His head throbbing, and a crimson nose on fire. Breathing was hard and painful. Febrile sweat matted his hair and his body shook with infection. Any miniscule relief that the man had felt before was quickly whisked away with the fiasco down by the truck. God, Daryl was mad about that. And guilty. He’d fucked it all up because of course he did. Tears were threatening to pool in his azure eyes, but he was so exhausted that he could barely keep them open. Then, of course, he was paired off with the one member of the group that seemed set out on irritating him to death. It was painfully obvious that Daryl Dixon was barely holding it together. 

He opened the door to the first room he came across, uncharacteristically showing no concern for any traps that may await him. Maybe it was a little fuck you to Rick. Or maybe the sickly man just didn’t care about today anymore. A dusty haze of pale pink washed around him. Daryl had landed in a nursery, completely untouched by the lunacy of the rest of the dwelling. An antique rocking chair sat in the corner of the space, next to a wooden crib that was becoming a home for spiderwebs and dust. Piles of laundry were spotted around the room in neat piles, waiting patiently to be sorted or worn. Daryl felt a strange tug in his chest. He stood in the middle of the room, solemnly taking in the surroundings when the door behind him creaked open again. 

“Hey Daryl, you good?”

“Yeah.” The hunter tried to stop himself from sounding irritated, but in his state it was a hard task. “Ya dond’t have to be here, we cand look for shit separately.”

“Yeah I know, but this house is whack so we should probably stick together for now, yeah?’”

“Hmpht.” Daryl grunted in weak agreement. He settled on the far side of the room and Peri placed herself by a small chest of drawers. 

“Tony?”

“Wha?”

“Is that your middle name?”

“Ndah - and we aind’t doin’ that! Jus’ shuddup and look quietly.”

Daryl stepped over to the wooden crib, running a calloused hand along the chipped varnish. The phantom baby girl hadn't lay here for a long time. He looked up at the sad dilapidated mobile that hung above the resting place. A menagerie of spider-webbed little birds moving around together in the October wind. He leaned forward and adjusted his eyes to a small nameplate that sat slightly crooked on the wall. E M M A. Daryl traced a finger over indented letters, trying to picture the baby girl, Emma, that once slept here. Played here. Laughed here. A chubby little Judith popped into his mind and a weak smile spread across his face. Such innocence in a fucked up world.

“You ever seen one?” Peri’s melodic voice rang through the room, obvious that she’d been watching the man reminiscing. 

“One what?”

“You know… a baby.” She paused trying to find her words. “An infected baby.”

The question weighed heavily in Daryl's mind. The pleasant images of his Judith being quickly erased away and replaced with the nightmarish visions from his dreams. Gurgling lumps of flesh in infantile form. He shook his head viciously, trying to rid himself of the new images that plagued him, but as always, the traumatic ones lingered. 

“Ndah.” He responded weakly. A silence fell heavy over the two, the atmosphere thick with discomfort and melancholy.

“I have.” Peri admitted after a while. Daryl said nothing but turned to face the woman, bringing his blue eyes up to make contact with her hazel ones. “I was just starting my placement at Piedmont Atlanta hospital. I went in on the Thursday morning and everything was fine. By the afternoon everything had gone to complete shit. When the generators were turned off, the paediatric ventilators failed and they all died. But then they came back…” Her vision had drifted towards the crooked floorboards, catatonic to the images she was reliving. 

“Mb’sorry.”

“Yeah…”

“So, like you a doctor or sombe shit?” The familiar friend of guilt made a home in Daryl’s stomach for what felt like the fiftieth time that day. He was ashamed that he didn’t know the history of Peri…Peri…fuck! What was her last name??? Daryl had  made an effort to get to know the new arrivals from Woodbury but then the weird fucking pig flu happened. And then they ran out of supplies. And Rick happened…Shit,  had he really lost that much focus? ‘You’re so fucking selfish you know that?’

“...Yeah, or some shit.” She glanced up at the hunter briefly with eyes that were pleading for respite. Pleading to tell the tale long forgotten by the misery of the world. He gave her a weak nod to continue. Maybe such a conversation would distract the sickly man from his plethora of ailing symptoms.

“So I never actually graduated from uni…I mean university…I mean college!” She corrected herself, forgetting the country she was in.

“I kndow what a undiversity is, dumbass…”

“Right, okay. So yeah, my school offered a placement program overseas and I’d never been to America so of course I said yes, and here we are.”

“So you aind’t a full doctor?”

“Ahh, not really no. Bob gave me a copy of the Grey’s Anatomy textbook though, so I've been boning up a bit.” She huffed and small laugh redirected her attention to the pile of baby clothes in front of her, trying to find some onesies that would fit the ever growing Judith.

“Well…er…thanks. I didnd’t know that.” Daryl tried to smile at the woman but was caught up with an onslaught of thoughts and feelings himself. Judith was alive and well and definitely not dead and turned, but he couldn’t get the frightful images out of his head. He weakly directed his attention back to a pile of plush toys sitting forlorn in the crib. One of them would be perfect for his pseudo-daughter. A dinosaur, a teddy and a penguin presented themselves. The bear was too obvious. The dinosaur might be a little too scary. But the odd-looking penguin seemed just appropriate enough to make it into Daryl’s duffle bag. 

“Let’s see what's in here.” Daryl heard Peri move from her place in front of the chest of draws to the small antique cupboard by the window. He turned around as she was opening the tiny old doors. A glint of light caught his eye. Fishing line. A trip wire. Before he could even think, he dove forward towards the woman and knocked her to the ground. Copious amount of books and heavy trinkets fell to the floor with a bang. The shelf above falling, releasing its contents onto any unsuspecting victim. 

“You okay?” Daryl asked between gasps of air.

“Ah fuck…yeah I think so.” Her voice strained. 

Daryl let go, satisfied that Peri hadn’t sustained any damage in the stupidly placed booby trap. He stood up slowly, ruing the ache that had settled in every single one of his extremities like the plague. A stabbing prickle set itself suddenly in both of the hunter’s nostrils. The shelf spewing its contents downwards had disrupted an equilibrium of dust, sending a cloud into the air and up Daryl’s sensitive airways. He crushed his nose in half with a powerful wrist, voraciously attempting to quell the sneeze attack that was brewing. Of course it didn’t work.

“Fuckheh…h’AATCHoo…h’ESSHuu…ESHHcht…HAH’EESCHshu…shit-heh’eeEITChuuU…ugh…heh…”

“Bless yo-”

“-Ndohiht donehih!” Daryl’s breath hitched fiercely. Nostrils quivering. Eyelids pressed tight. A tongue half hanging out of a gasping mouth. He feared it wouldn’t stop this time, forever leaving him to the mercy of his fever-addled body, vibrations reverberating in the back of neck.

���heh…h’ATSCH uU… h’EITCHEW… Hh’EsTCHUU… Hh’GstcHh, GstcH, GSTCHUuuh…sond of a bitch!” The fit finally ended, leaving the man fretfully dizzy, eyes full of irritated tears and mucus dribbling its way into his gaping mouth. Daryl stumbled, trying to find a wall to hold onto, but was met with a small frame underneath his arm, anchoring him to the spot he teetered on. One steadying hand wrapped around his waist and the other reached up to wipe afflicted tears from his cheeks.

“Fucking hell Daryl! You’re burning up!” 

“Mb’finde.” The hunter attempted to say, but it came out as more of an incongruent mumble. He made a feeble attempt to shrug the woman off but she slowly guided him down to a seated position, hovering closely. “Leave mbe be! Dontcha got other shit to worry about kndife girl?” He spat at her with humiliation and rage.

“You’re a fucking annoying dickhead, you know that Daryl?” She stood up from her place near the floor, leaving a keen medical obligation snuffling below. “Look. Just stay here, I’m gonna check out the bathroom, see if I can find any pseudoephedrine or something”

“Sudo-what?”

“Cold and flu medicine idiot.”

“Dond’t need any.” Daryl practically growled his response. 

“Looks whatever! You do you, but sure as shit the rest of us will need it, considering you can’t even cover your goddamn mouth.” And to make a point she wiped a hand along the wallpaper, a trail of his own mucus glistening in the fading sunlight. Daryl bore the brunt of one final disgruntled glare, before the door slammed closed with a riot of brown curly hair. He was left in a puddle of his own thoughts once again. 

Shame was a scorching hot poker at the back of Daryl’s throat. His unabashed fits of temper should’ve been a thing of the past, but here he was, miserable, weak, losing his shit at those just trying to show him comfort. He was an alien in this meek and feeble body, unable to stand, or breath, or think rationally. Daryl truly believed he was an insufferable burden to everyone, his ornery existence unworthy of approval. Just months ago, he had chosen to abandon his found family and run off with his reunited, one-handed brother. Of course, the deviance hadn’t lasted long, Daryl swiftly returning to the group once he realised how much he’d grown apart from Merle. Still, no one came after him, and they all seemed to do absolutely fine in his absence. Daryl needed them, but the dependence was clearly unrequited. He was a pity case. His febrile mind exacerbated these beliefs. Daryl was damned if he did and damned if he didn’t. Fragile and furious, the sick man slammed the side of his fist hard into the wall behind him, feeling the pulsating blood rushing to the point of contact. 

The throbbing, localised pain was a welcome distraction from the tornado that whirled inside Daryl’s head. It wasn’t the first time he’d hurt himself to distract from mental torment, and probably wouldn’t be the last. He wasn’t proud of it. But it worked as a temporary fix when he was drowning in subconscious. Daryl focused his eyes on the side of his fist, narrowing his attention to the lump swelling from broken capillaries. Soon he was able to ground himself to reality. The hard floor numbing his ass. The cacophony of wind outside rattling the windows. The faint murmurs of Rick and Carl talking beneath him. He could ruminate on all the ways he’d let his partner down later. Right now he had a job to do. ‘Focus you asshole.”

Feeling slightly steadier, Daryl hauled his leaden body off the ground, pausing on upright to make sure he wasn’t going to collapse. Satisfied enough, he reached for the handkerchief in his back pocket that had left a revolting damp patch on his cargo pants. He blew his nose with thick, gurgling abandon, finally being alone enough to be void of humiliation. The hunter made his way over to the last untouched cupboard and started picking through the necessities.

—---

Peri worked her way down the dingy hallway slowly, carefully. The slightest misstep threatening danger upon them all. She was nervous as hell, but used the uneasy edge to spur her onwards. The woman knew far better than to wander off alone, but truthfully she needed a moment to breathe by herself. Daryl Dixon was possibly the most confusing and vexing individual she had ever met, but a psychoanalysis on the man would probably turn into a bloody thesis. Peri didn’t know either Rick or Daryl well enough to cast an opinion on their relationship, but a blind priest could see that there were some serious issues there. Not her circus, not her monkeys. Just focus.  

A few more steps and Peri found herself in front of a door much like the others branching off into the unknown around her. Instinct spoke. This was the right room. This was the room in which she could prove to the inseparable prison family that she was worth the risk of acceptance. A too long pent up breath hissed out as she entered, unscathed and undetected. A bathroom of very unspectacular proportions unveiled itself, the frigid temperature of the broken tiles rising up through her boots. Peri opened up the tiny cabinet that sat above a time turned grimy basin. Disappointment littered the dusty shelves, nothing to claim but a strip of aspirin and an empty prescription bottle for doxycycline. The barren orange container almost laughed at her, filling her up with red hot agitation. She slammed the wooden door shut, startling when a spray of icy water burst out from the ancient pipes in front of her. Cold, wet and defeated, Peri kicked at a tile that sat ajar from the others. The small slab shattered against the wall, revealing an open hole in its wake. 

The opening in the ground was purposed and deep, a little life of goods hidden away from unsuspecting eyes. Peering into it, Peri gasped. A practical Mecca of Medicine revealed itself. Gauze, paracetamol, medical tape, antibiotics. She was damn near tears of ecstasy. There were even a couple of unopened bottles of nasal spray- not a necessity but a certain someone could benefit greatly from it. Peri packed everything into her bag, sparing nothing. 

She was about to pat herself on the back, when the sounds of gunshots erupted from deep within the home. Scrambling to her feet, Peri hurled the duffle bag into the hallway, and retraced her steps with resolute haste. Petite hands made short work of unsheathing knives. Peri made it to the open stairwell at the same time as Daryl. He was steady, holding his crossbow up with unwavering grace. 

“Rick! The hell happened?” The hunter yelled down, concern and worry dripping from his eyes.

“S’fine…Damn idiot rigged a bunch-a firecrackers to go off!”

“Shit.” Daryl lowered his crossbow and pinched the bridge of his nose, concerned, stressed and disillusioned. A howl of unmerciful wind rattled through the house, slightly drawing the attention of all. 

“Rick, the winds are really picking up out there, maybe we should just call it quits before the storm hits?” Peri said, leaning nervously over the bannister. 

“No! We’ve already gotten great stuff down here. We got time before the storm, jus’ get back to it yeah?”

Daryl watched Rick turn his attention towards the room where the fireworks happened. A clear sign to keep on movin’- so to speak. He swung his crossbow so that it was hanging against his back, nodding to Peri who remained sceptical. 

“I know, it ain’t sittin’ right with me either.” He reassured her as they walked beyond the staircase. “But I ain’t seen so much stuff in long while. Let’s just grab what we cand now and we can combe back with mbore people for the rest later.”

“I get the vibe that no one’s touched this place for a reason Daryl…”

“Yeh, I’mb with ya.”

“How’d you go in the nursery?”

“Finde, got a bunch’a clothes for Judith and found a whole heap-a blankets for windter. You?”

Peri didn’t answer with words, instead she opened the lip of her duffle bag, precious medical supplies bursting at the seams.

“Mm-hmm, ndice. Uh...good job.” He wanted to be more supportive, but exhaustion and downright stress had worn his effective communication skills down. Daryl paused and then pointed towards the end of the dark hallway. “‘M gonna check out that one. You take the ondes on the right, jus’ be-”

“-Be careful. I know.”

Daryl grunted his response again.

Leading the way through the dark corridor, he dodged any wonky floorboards that would deem themselves a threat. Breathing as quietly as was possible through his mouth, the hunter stepped up to the threshold of the door, preparing himself to enter. With a trusty crossbow drawn rigid, Daryl tentatively turned the door knob and braced for anything that might come his way. He’d be damned if some idiot apocalypse prepper bested Rick Grimes and his team of mismatched survivors. 

The large room mirrored the rest of the dwelling, a gradual darkness creeping in like a precursor for their time-borrowed lives. An insipid heat rose from the heart of the room, a vast temperature change from where the hunter had just entered from. The atmosphere was sickly, heavy, and pallid. Daryl couldn't smell a damn thing but he knew when he was in the presence of death. Fresh death. Not walker death. His body just knew. Missing a sense or not and it filled him with an unwelcome foreboding. 

Once Daryl knew that there were no undead coming for him, he crept over to the window and pulled the blinds shakily. The room needed light. He stared out through the drizzle clad glass for a moment, the grim uncertainties behind him making his mind run a mile a minute. Maybe the owner killed himself? Maybe some luckless cuck bore the brunt of a booby trap? Whatever had taken place behind him was ghastly and unpleasant. He just knew it. Shuddering a wheezy breath, the hunter turned around to satiate woeful curiosity. 

The grizzly scene that lay before him was all too clear. A once magnificent master bedroom, now a bloodstained wreck. The body of a tall man was strewn across the crimson bedspread, a face marred with dried blood. Upon closer inspection the deceased appeared to be fairly young, light chestnut hair falling from his head and a messy beard long unattended to. A pistol lay limply from his right hand, the grim solution for a man who simply couldn’t go on. Daryl stepped forwards to claim the firearm, and in doing so noticed a much smaller body curled up on the other side of the dead man. It was a girl. Maybe one or two years old. Ribbons of golden hair tarnished from the bullet wound in the side of her head. Her lifeless body dressed up in lace as if she was a doll. Emma. 

‘Fucking coward.’ - A murder suicide of the most snivelling decree. How dare he? How dare he? Having a child in this world was one of the only things to keep a person fighting - a principle made unequivocal by Rick Grimes and his unwavering love for Carl and Judith. Daryl pictured the gruesome scene taking place, a man out of options killing his own daughter before turning fate onto himself. The hunter felt numb, unable to fathom the loss of such an innocent being. Wetness pooled beneath his chin, the realisation that he had been crying jarred him out of melancholic stupor. He sniffled and wiped his eyes, defeated by a house and its haunting memories.

Daryl grabbed the musty blanket that was crumpled below the pair of bodies. He dragged it up solemnly, coving the cowardly man and the little girl, a weak attempt at preserving dignity in their unholy demise. The movement of the comforter caused a piece of paper to fly into the air, landing in Daryl’s outstretched hand.

I couldn't do it without you Robin.

Emma, I’m so sorry. 

-Michael.

Daryl crumpled up the pathetic suicide note and tossed it to the floor. Death and misery were not surprising guests for the hunter, having been an audience to misfortune since childhood. Maybe it was his fever or his hair-trigger emotions, but the heartache before him was almost too much to bear. Breathing became harder, shallower, quicker. Black spots of foreboding clouded his vision all at once, causing his head to spin with astronomical pressure. His whole body had had enough, strained under effort and threatening to collapse in an instant. Fuck, he felt weak as shit. 

He stumbled away from the bed and braced himself against an old vanity near the door. Squeezing his eyes tight never did much to escape from living nightmares, but he needed to blind himself from reality around him and get a fucking grip! His knuckles were turning white with force against the chipped wood. Daryl needed to focus on breathing. Daryl needed to get over his little episode -Merle’s words, not his. The hunter brought a hand down forcefully on the piece of furniture, wincing painfully. The thick bruise from earlier throbbing loudly.

“Shit.” 

At least he could think lucidly again. Well, as lucid as the febrile-feeling-like-pure-garbage man could be at this harrowing point in time. A soft knocking at the door jolted Daryl out of his panic attack oblivion.

“Daryl, you okay in there?” Peri’s soft voice was tinged with worry. Daryl had maybe hit the vanity a little harder than intended if he drew her attention that quickly. 

“Yeh, s’all finde.” He croaked out, grimacing at the gratingly sick sound. “Dond’t uh…dond’t combe in here, there ain’t much worth takin’. I’ll catch up with ya in a sec.”

“Okay…”

Peri didn’t need to see what had happened in the bedroom, no one did. It wasn’t fair but Daryl could deal with it. He’d seen worse and there was worse to come. There always was. The tiny girl and her father had left the world, and that was that. Not his problem. He’d wasted enough time expelling useless emotions, it was time to move on. Daryl straightened up and ran his hands over his face, wiping away residual dampness from his ruddy cheeks and nose. He was hot now, his body unable to keep itself within a normal temperature range. He cursed his ailing frame, knowing that in five minutes the feverish sweat coating his body would leave him freezing and trembling. He was very fucking over this. 

He left the room and its ghosts behind, narrowly avoiding his own reflection in the vanity as he walked away. If he looked a fraction as bad as he felt, he might confuse himself for a mottled walker and shoot his own damned head by accident. Okay, probably a bit dramatic, but the man felt so goddamn awful. 

Daryl inched slowly down the hallway once again, listening out for a sign of Peri behind one of the doors. A shuffling from a room to the left stopped him in his tracks. He listened with highly trained ears. It kept going so he unsheathed a knife from his belt. The sound was probably coming from his companion, but still, he felt safer with a weapon in his hands. Daryl entered the room to be greeted by a small wave from Peri.

“Just me.” She said, staring at the knife by Daryl’s head. 

“Sorry, jus’-”

“It’s cool dude.” Peri was only visible from the waist up, her lower half masked by dozens of cardboard boxes strewn around the room. 

“Ya find anything good?”

“Yeah, a fair few cans of food. Tinned peaches mainly, but I’m sure Carol can whip up something with them. It’s a hoarders paradise in here, a whole lotta boxes filled with a whole lotta junk.”

Daryl forced a laugh but it came out as a grumbling huff of air. He didn’t feel like laughing right now. Realising that he was just standing there like a shag on a rock, the hunter turned to open the large cupboard next to him.

“Don’t bother in there, just a bunch of broken vacuums.”

“M’kay…” Daryl responded slowly, suddenly feeling very useless. He had been too busy digesting the massacre before him that he hadn’t bothered to look for supplies in the other room. It was a bedroom, it might’ve had clothes, blankets, medicine. He could go back and search properly, he should, but he couldn’t. He wanted to be as far away from that horrible scene as possible. ‘Fucking pathetic Dixon, can’t even pull it togther to help your family.’ He shook the thoughts from his head, absentmindedly squeezing the tip of his raw nose. They’d come back with more people, a bigger car. They’d get the rest. 

A dull tickle sprang up in Daryl’s right nostril, prompting the man to scrub vigorously. A wave of hot frustration spread through him, he refused to sneeze anymore today. ‘S’fucking ridiculous.’ Gritting his teeth, he managed to quell the sensation. Finally some control. Snorting back a tidal wave of mucus, Daryl turned to busy himself in whatever Peri was searching for. He just had to hold on for a little longer. 

“Whas’ that?” He asked, pointing to a pile of papers filling Peri’s hands. She was standing silhouetted by the last legitimate light of the day, staring down at the documents with a look of beautiful contemplation.

“Some old photos. It must be the family that lived here, see?” She handed him a stack of glossy pictures. He stared down at the first photo, squinting his eyes to decipher the figures in the stormy darkness. A man and woman were stood in front of a pickup truck, arms intertwining and faces filled with candid laughter. The man was undoubtedly the alive counterpart of Michael who now lay rotting on a bed. His light brown hair was much shorter, and face clean shaven. Daryl assumed that the woman in the photograph was his wife Robin. She had kind eyes and a gentle smile, with cascades of golden hair falling down past her waist. Around her neck was a turquoise beaded necklace with matching earrings that peeped out from her blonde curls. They were clearly very in love. Daryl silently hoped that that's what he and Rick looked like when they touched. ‘You can’t even say ‘I love you’ idiot, of course you don’t look like that.’ He quickly shifted the photo to the back of the pile, it was doing more damage than good. The next development hurt him even further, a tiny infant having her first bath. So fresh, so new. An umbilical scab still protruding from her abdomen. The portrait of Emma brought back suppressed memories of Lori’s death and a newborn Judith. Rick’s wailing, and an infant's cry. He didn’t think twice before he left to get formula for that girl. We ain’t losing another one. Daryl had been the first to feed Judith, the first to bathe her - hell! The first to change her dirty diaper. He loved Lil’ Asskicker so fucking much. Tears were threatening to swim in his eyes once again and he refused to be a fragile wuss any longer.

Daryl swallowed hard against the lump in his throat, reaching the stack of photos out for Peri to take back. It was pointless reminiscing in the memories of someone else's life. When hands failed to take the package from him, Daryl looked up from his emotional haze, seeing that Peri had walked away. 

“Oh fuck yeah! Look at this.” She reached behind a pile of boxes, pulling out an old dusty instrument that took a moment for Daryl to register as a banjo. 

“Uh…A banjo?”

“Yeah man! And its a friggen nice one too…”

“You play?” Daryl asked, feeling a nostalgic pang creep into his stomach.

“Yeah a little in my free time. Or I did. I wanted to take piano lessons as a kid but my ever -so -slightly -overbearing -mother made me take banjo lessons instead.” She ran a hand over the out of tune strings, smiling a little too widely.

“Hmm, mby Ma used ta play too.” Daryl hadn’t thought about his mother in over a decade. Why now, of all times to be inundated with memory?

“Sounds like a good woman. What was her name?”

“Uh, Alice.”

“Alice…” The name played around in her mouth as if she was trying to piece together the puzzle of Daryl’s life. “Your dad play too?”

No. Daryl’s father had other excruciating hobbies that occupied his time. You know, getting drunk, smoking, beating his wife and children. Really happy family bullshit. Silence fell between the pair. It was obvious that Peri had hit a sore spot in Daryl’s psyche.

“You should take it Peri…Maybe Beth and ya can start a prison band.” He tried to force a smile at the woman. It wasn’t her fault that Daryl was on the verge of spiralling out of control. His childhood was a series of harrowing events that the man had worked tirelessly to forget. It wasn't important now. Nothing before was. Peri was about to respond when a muffled struggle was heard downstairs.

Daryl raised a hand, demanding complete silence. 

“CARL!” Rick’s panicked voice reverberated through the entire house, prepping the two upstairs companions for battle. Gunshots boomed. There weren't any fireworks this time. Peri dropped the instrument without a thought and followed Daryl’s frantic pace out of the room. 

Everything that felt wrong with today was about to come to a head. All four were certain of it.

[celestialarchon]

400+ Followers Celebration!

various genshin impact x f!reader

warnings: fluff/crack/NSFW implications, jokes and innuendos. reverse Isekai storyline and a LOT of attention on reader. SPOILERS FOR IN GAME. Archon spoilers!

As much as you tried, connecting and staying in reality was too hard. It was always the same outcome, finding yourself whisked away to another fantasy land through media. Normally your obsessions didn’t last long, but one game had completely sucked you in. Maybe it was the stress of the nightmare year 2020 or maybe it was the fact that Genshin Impact was everything you loved and more, but you couldn’t get enough. It was getting out of hand as even your roommates had began to play because of the way you romanticized the game. Acquiring most of the five star characters, building several strong teams, and finishing almost all the quests in roughly 5 months.

As an insomniac, it was easy to grind through the game until the sun came up. Sometimes you wondered if it was strange that an adult would be so enamored with a game but shrugged it off. It’d been a hellish year, you deserved to treat yourself.

Yet another night spent entirely on the dreamy land of Teyvat. You yawned and stretched as the sun peaked through the blinds and cursed yourself for not noticing the passing time. Removing your head set, you yawned again, feeling a wave of drowsiness wash over you. It was strange, you’d only been up one night and you were already so tired. Your home was quiet, all the roommates sound asleep as you crept into your bed under the covers. The stuffie you adored so much was soon in your arms as you drifted off, wishing to dream of traveling the world of Teyvat.

An extremely loud crashing sound woke you from your deep sleep. Instinctively you shot up, your arm moved on its own aiming for the space around you and swinging quickly and forcefully. Your fist made contact with something and you shrieked as the strange shadow crumpled. You flew out of your bed and away from the safety of your covers, grasping for the light switch.

Your panicked screeches only grew louder as the figure on the floor groaned and stood upright, still fumbling for the lights. Fingertips finally brushed the switch on the wall and you flipped the lights on. The sudden brightness blinded you for a minute and the mystery person as well. It hit you how stupid it was to turn on the lights in your room as soon as your eyes adjusted. Adrenaline was pumping through your veins as you rushed to the door. You could hear heavy footsteps from the other room. Other people were home you needed to get to them.

“Shiiiiit,” The strange person groaned again, “I drank too much.”

The voice was familiar and made you freeze for a moment. Mentally slapping yourself you darted out of your room but ran straight into a wall. Well, that’s what it felt like, but there wasn’t a wall outside your door. The force of the collision knocked you on your ass and you yelped as you hit the floor.

“Oh? What’s this?” The supposed wall turned to look at you, eyebrows arched as he stared down at you.

Your jaw nearly hit the floor as you looked up at the familiar man. That smooth voice, the long hair, the eyepatch. This had to be some sort of weird dream. No matter how hard you tried to move, your body wouldn’t obey. You heard steps from behind you and glanced back to see another Mondstadt troublemaker. A disgruntled anemo archon was slowly approaching you.

“Ehe, fuck, she hit me hard.” Venti giggled nervously.

“Poor thing,” Kaeya held his hand out to you, “Did the mean little twink scare you?”

The room was spinning, so you took the cryo pirate’s hand. Your jaw was probably still on the floor. His grip was strong and cool, it was bringing you back down to the reality of the situation you were in. Oh, the irony. You were not dreaming. Awestruck, you peered behind Kaeya into your living room to see even more Genshin characters just vibing. The esteemed geo archon was drinking from your favorite mug, two troublesome harbingers bickered in the corner of the room, a certain librarian was flipping through your books, both travelers were attempting to learn how to play uno. It was unreal. A pirate was flirting with a silver haired beauty.There was an astrologist examining your fish tank, an alchemist and a child terrorist asleep on your floor, and a fucking adeptus perched on your couch like a gargoyle.

Your roommates were nowhere in sight and your home was crowded by your fictional lovers. The absolute chaos of it all sent you over the edge. High pitched, clearly unstable laughter erupted from you. What else could you do? Cry? That wouldn’t change anything. All eyes shifted to you as you leaned on the wall, clutching your abdomen and giggling like a madwoman. Kaeya shifted away from you, allowing the others to get a good look at you.

Finally composing yourself, you stood up straight and introduced yourself, “Hello, why are you invading my home?”

“Hey girlie! I’m Childe,” The cheery harbinger nearly skipped up to you shaking your hand, “but you can call me daddy.”

Your face reddened at his bold introduction but you clicked your tongue avoiding his eyes.

“Hello, cutie. I’m Lisa.”

“Albedo, and this is Klee.”

“I tend to go by Zhongli.”

“Beidou! The lovely lady by my side is Ningguang.”

“Adeptus Xiao.”

They all introduced themselves so politely, you almost felt bad for acting a bit crazy. However, that feeling was quickly swept away by Kaeya and his sharp tongue.

“Kaeya, but I believe you already know that,” he smirked at you, “May I ask why you aren’t wearing any pants?”

“Oi, what?” You looked down and gasped.

Venti’s drunk ass had sent you into fight and flight mode so you had forgotten all about your night time attire. You were in an oversized Genshin Impact shirt without any pants on. Shoving Venti out of your way, you rushed to your room to dig for pants. Oh, how you wished you hadn’t forgotten about laundry. You hastily grabbed a pair of shorts that really didn’t do much except cover your underwear.

“I have shorts on now. You just can’t tell because of my shirt.” You declared entering the living room.

Some of the more promiscuous characters giggled at your embarrassment while Zhongli facepalmed and the most serious of them all, Scaramouche and Xiao, simply scowled. You sat on the end of your couch furthest from everybody else, nervous. Nobody had answered your earlier question. Apparently your discomfort was lost on the Adeptus Xiao, or he just didn’t care. He was in front of you in a flash, pinching your face and glaring at you.

“Why did you call us here you foolish mortal?” His tone was more annoyed than murderous.

Zhongli slapped Xiao’s hands away from your face and sat down next to you, “Be nice. She doesn’t know either.”

You nodded at this, and the room erupted in murmurs. Zhongli slipped his arm around you, patting your shoulder sympathetically. Lumine tossed the Uno cards down and glided to you, taking strands of your hair into her hands and beginning to play with it. Perhaps it’s because you played as both the travelers but the three of you seemed to silently click. Scaramouche and Childe began to argue again about something silly. Out of the corner of your eye you saw a certain bard and the charming Sir Kaeya raiding your liquor cabinet.

It was too overwhelming to argue. Lumine took her time playing with your hair while the others attempted to figure out how to go back to their own world. Xiao crept closer to you, truly like a cat. Beidou and Ningguang fawned over you and invited you into their relationship several times. You politely declined, knowing they’d have to go back to their world. It was disappointing and a bit frustrating.

Your wish came true but it was too good to be true. Albedo seemed to notice your silence. He gently maneuvered his adorable little sister off of him and approached you. His eyes were filled with curiosity, your silence only made his thoughts wander further.

“Can I experiment on you?” Albedo was blunt.

“Huh?” You blinked, unsure if you heard him correctly.

“I’m not sure if that was brave or stupid,” Childe snickered, “Has he always been this bold?”

“Tch,” Scaramouche rolled his eyes, “Thats a terrible pick up line, mad scientist.”

“Leave my cutie alone!” Lisa yanked Albedo away from you defensively.

The room was filled with protest at Lisa’s words. Zhongli merely sighed and pulled you closer. Venti’s dumb ass was floating around your living room hiccuping. Xiao was wedging himself between you and the arm of the couch. It was insane. Beidou and Ningguang noticed the two Liyue men snuggling up to you and marched over to the three of you.

Ningguang tried to pull you away from them while Beidou aggressively smacked at Xiao. Xiao was hissing at the beautiful captain and Zhongli was attempting to intervene. You shoved them out of your way and stood up, panicked by the attention. Lisa caught you as you tripped over your own feet but landed face first into her chest. She stroked your hair but was interrupted by Albedo grabbing your wrist and mumbling about experiments. The single moment Childe and Scaramouche got along was to pull you from Albedo but it became a quick tug of war over you.

Somehow, Klee was still asleep and Kaeya was just watching all of it go down.

“Cheeeeeeeeers, bitch bitches,” The Knight slurred.

“Enough.” Lumine and Aether both intervened.

Aether held his hand out to you, “You don’t have to pick now, but please say you’ll come with us?”

“You belong in Teyvat,” Lumine smiled at you warmly.

“So,” Aether continued “What do you say, outlander?”

All eyes were on you as the words left Aether’s lips. What would you do?

[iliveiloveiwrite]

Hiii Hii!!! May I request for Draco🥺

Fluff prompt 3: "It's you. It's always been you."

Steams scenes 6: "Touch Me"

And miscellaneous 12: only one bed AU

Thank youuu❣️

Travelling Companions  // Draco Malfoy

a/n: NSFW - minors DNI. FEMALE READER. 2k words (not really a blurb anymore), and the fic that has inspired my latest series so pieces of this will be taken and used there that’s why this may feel very rushed. The series will be slower. 

Fluff 3: “It’s you. It’s always been you.”

Steamy Scenes 6: “Touch me.”

Misc 12: only one bed.

Upon the end of the Second Wizarding War and the disgrace of his family, Draco Malfoy left the country. There was very little keeping him tied to England; a family torn apart by their beliefs, a cold house that was not a home, an inheritance built off the very hatred pedalled by his father.

No, Draco Malfoy did not want to stay in the country.

Similarly, you refused to stay at home too. Having seen the lifeless bodies of your friends, the nightmares had become too much for you to remain at home. Instead, you packed up your things, kissed your parents on the cheeks, promising to send them a postcard from every destination.

It’s in Italy where the two of you cross paths.

The night was unusually warm; sweat rolling down your back as you walked through the thick crowds on the Ponte Vecchio. You had no distinct aim of your night; happy to wander until the early hours of the morning, falling into your bed with very little to think about other than your plans for the following day.

It’s as your dodging multiple bodies that you spy a shock of blonde hair that you swear was familiar.

“Draco?” You call, watching the tall figure pause, “Draco Malfoy?”

The blonde turns at the sound of your voice.

“Of all the people to meet in Florence,” You smile, “What are you doing here?”

“An extended gap year as the muggles would call it,” He answers, looking mildly uncomfortable at being recognised abroad.

“Well,” You nod, “It was nice to see you, enjoy the rest of your travels.”

Draco nods, a small, polite smile on his face. He doesn’t say anything to which you turn away, continuing your journey across the bridge in the hopes of finding something to eat and soon.

“(Y/N)!” Draco calls after a moment.

You turn back to the man, finding him only a few steps behind you. His eyes are bright, cheeks flushed as he asks, “What are your plans for tonight?”

“I was going to get some food and then walk about aimlessly. Why?”

“Can I join you?” He asks; the words leaving his mouth in such a rush that Draco looks shocked at the speed. “What I mean to say is: would you like some company? It would be nice to catch up with a friendly face.”

“Of course,” You laugh, “You’re more than welcome to join me.”

Draco falls into step beside you as you wander the length of the bridge, both eagerly looking for a restaurant to catch up in.

Conversation flows naturally with the blonde, as does the laughter and the wine. You reminisce over the lighter days of your education, as well as sharing countless stories of your travels, finding yourself enjoying Draco’s company far more than you expected.

“Where are you going to next?” Draco asks, grey eyes inquisitive as he sips at his red wine.

“Greece,” You answers, “I’m island hopping for a little while. I’ve heard stories of an island that feels like the end of the world, and I want to check it out. Where are you off to next?”

“Greece, if you can believe it,” He answers, topping up your wine glasses with the dregs of the bottle.

“I’ve a proposition for you, Malfoy,” You announce over your refreshed glass of red wine. “I’ve grown tired of travelling alone, I miss conversation and company. We’re both travelling to Greece next – why don’t you join me?”

Draco ponders your proposition through his next bite of food, weighing up the pros and cons through a mouthful of Tagliatelle Funghi Porcini e Tartufo. “Alright,” He eventually says, wiping his mouth on a cloth napkin, “I’ll join you. I’ve grown lonely on my travels too.”

Your shoulders sag as Draco’s words wash over you. It had become lonely travelling alone, that much was true, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were meant to run into Draco tonight. That there was something bigger at play.

-------

The Ionian Islands were beautiful; travelling with Draco at your side made it easier for you to rest at night, no longer plagued by nightmares as often, but it gave you someone to talk to when the night had been bad.

Kefalonia held its own charm; its quiet punctuated only by the clinking of wine glasses on the wine tours shared with Draco.

Your time on the Ionian Islands had you seeing Draco in a different light; the sun had bronzed his skin and you couldn’t help but stare when his shirt came off at the beach. Something was changing between the two of you; the both of you lingering on a night, not wanting to be the one to say good night, not wanting to be the one to draw it all to a close.

You could only hope that things would change soon.

---------

“Are we staying in the port?” Draco asks, eyeing you carefully as you hold your hand out for a taxi. Wearing black slacks and a white t-shirt, Draco was unintentionally drawing the attention of most women and men in the port of Skiathos

“Nope,” You answer as the taxi pulls up beside you both, “We’re staying in Troulos.”

The hotel was a small, family run establishment that you had read about in one of the many travel guides bought before you left England. Draco leaves you to check in, letting you admire the scenery as you wait patiently for him to return.

The owner is the one to lead you both through the hotel, smiling politely at you as he leaves you outside your room, explaining the opening times for the bar and the pool.

“There’s only one bed, Draco,” You state obviously as you enter the room, pointing to the bed in offence.

“I noticed,” He deadpans, fixing you with an unimpressed look. “Look, I’m not sleeping on the tiled floor. So, we either share, or you sleep on the floor.”

“Ever the gentleman,” You drawl, arching a single eyebrow. Draco smirks as he bows; the motion executed perfectly, highlighting his very expensive etiquette lessons as a small boy. “Fine,” You huff, dropping your bag onto the bed, “We share, but I’m warning you now, Malfoy, I hog the blankets.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less,” The blonde snorts, wandering to the bathroom where you hear the shower begin to flow.

Settling down on the bed, you press a hand to your forehead, already sticky with sweat. Your stomach turned with butterflies as you think of the night to come, sharing a bed with Draco. The feelings for the man had surprised you; you hadn’t expected to feel anything for him, simply happy to have company on the last leg of your travels, but here you were – craving his touch and his attention as if it were your lifeline.

The shower turns off, and you jump up, grabbing your toiletries in an effort to give you something to do to draw your mind from the sight of Draco in a towel.

“I’m going to shower and get ready, and then we’ll go get some food, okay?” You call out, pushing past the blonde as he leaves the bathroom in nothing, but a small, fluffy, white towel wrapped around his waist.

“I’ll be waiting!” Draco calls out, laughter rich in his voice.

As you sink against the bathroom door, it’s then that you realise, you’re fucked.

-------

It became a quick tradition on your travels with Draco that you would alternate who would pick the restaurant that evening. As you chose where to eat the previous night, it was now Draco’s turn.

The restaurant he chooses is quaint, set off just from the main road running through that part of the island. It’s fairly busy, many families laughing and drinking through the evening.

The waitress hands you the menus, her eyes lingering on Draco a little bit too long for you to feel comfortable. You smile politely as you give her your drink orders, immediately feeling awful for the curtness of your tone when you had no claim to the man sat next to you.

Food is ordered and conversation continues to flow, but you find yourself caught up in the way that Draco makes you feel. Every glance, every smile, every unintentional touch – it leaves you close to breathless with butterflies raging in your gut and your heart close to pounding out of your chest. You had never felt like this, and your poor heart could only hope that Draco felt the same.

When the food arrives, it doesn’t take long for you to gush over the meal. “You have to try this!” You cry out as you take your first bite of your meal, gathering another forkful for Draco. “It’s wonderful!”

Holding your fork out, you expect Draco to take the utensil from you, but he doesn’t. Instead, he leans in, his lips wrapping around the fork in a manner that leaves you hungry for something that certainly wasn’t food.

“What do you think?” You ask huskily, throat dry.

Draco chews, pondering over the food. A smirk gathers on his lips as he swallows, “Delectable.”

The both of you fall silent as your meals are finished; the only sound between you being the scraping of cutlery on plates, but you cannot help but wonder whether Draco can hear the pounding of your heart every time he smiles at you, or whether he can sense the change in your feelings as you yearn for him silently.

“You were jealous – of the waitress – weren’t you?” Draco’s voice sounds, breaking your reverie. Blinking, you find him watching you with a curious look on his face.

“Yes,” You confess in a single breath, shifting your gaze from Draco’s, fiddling with the napkin in front of you.

“There was no need.”

“Oh?”

“It’s you,” He breathes, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear, “It’s always been you.”

“Take me back to the room, Draco,” You whisper, leaning into his touch.

Draco wastes no time paying the bill, whisking you from the restaurant and down the road to your hotel.

The door slams against the wall as you both fall into the room; hands pulling at clothing, lips attached save for the breathy laughter filling the room. He tastes of the anise instilled into the Ouzo shared at dinner; his lips fit seamlessly against yours as he backs you through to the bedroom, his hands wandering – memorising every dip and curve of your body.

Draco lays you out on the bed gently as if worried of hurting you in some form or another.  

“What do you want?” Draco asks, grey eyes bright in the muted light of the room.

“You,” You state, sitting up on the bed, pressing your hands to the man’s bare chest, scraping your fingernails down his pale skin.  

Draco shivers at your touch, barely repressing the low groan growing in the back of his throat. “Where do you want me?” He hums, not giving you the time to answer the question as he begins his onslaught of addictive kisses.

“Here?” He purrs, kissing your jaw. “Or here?” He asks, dropping a feather light kiss to your neck, pushing you back onto the bed. “What about here?” Draco teases, pressing blazing kiss after blazing kiss down the centre of your cleavage to the top of your underwear leaving you a wanton mess as you writhe underneath him.

“Darling,” He whispers, “What do you want from me?”

“Touch me,” You all but beg, reaching for the blonde’s hand, fitting it where you need him most.

It’s then that all self-control Draco had snaps; his hand slips into your underwear, fingers slipping through your slick folds. The gasp that leaves your mouth is swallowed by Draco’s lips, his teeth tugging on your bottom lip as he wrings every single ounce of pleasure from your body.

No nightmares are had that night; finding peace in each other as you sleep wrapped up together in the one bed.

[writingsbychlo]

in pain rn thinkin bout prince noah snapping at the matron when she tries to make his girl work when shes obviously in so much pain and he whisks her away for cuddles and no matter how many times she shifts around bc she cant get into a position where it doesnt hurt he dont care just kisses her head and rubs her arm

WELL SEE that’s the thing he wouldn’t just yell at matron and make her stop working because she’s not the queen yet (though let’s be honest he knew about 3 months into their official relationship that he wouldn’t be king unless she was queen but anyway–) she made him promise things wouldn’t change when they got together, she’s still an employee after all and she takes it slow like she’s still nervous about a lot of things. he is royalty after all. she hasn’t been back to his bedroom since when he got sick, if they cuddle, he has to sneak into the staff quarters and matron is strict about it, for good reason.

it might go a little something like this, though

having the worst cramps

they always seem worse in winter

maybe it’s the cold and drizzly weather or whatever but periods always seem worse

and this morning noah came to join his girl for breakfast

he woke up extra early for this and they’re sitting just off of the kitchens, they can still hear everyone else chatting as they eat and prepare for the day

but it’s still private and they still love it

but he can sense something is up and asks about it

it takes a little while before she cracks about it being her period

they’ve never spoken about those things because and he’s completely unphased

she’s blushing and won’t look at him and he just cups her cheeks and kisses her softly

he tries to convince her to take the day off and relax and he’ll order it

she gives him a look and says no, they promised nothing would change, she doesn’t want to be favoured like that

these people are her friends and they will loose all that if she starts being treated wildly differently

they eventually part ways

he sees her a little while later while sitting at the breakfast table with his brother and father

he’s not eating much, but he squeezes her hand when she pours him some more water

and he’s drowning all day

every time he sees her

she doesn’t serve lunch or dinner

she stays in the kitchen where she can have cramps in peace because wincing non-stop and shuffling around rooms is not really appropriate in front of the king

noah checks in on her constantly throughout the day

he just kinda follows her around while she does her chores

he helps lay the rooms for meals as usual

he sits on the couches or leans on the doorways while she lights the fires before the sun starts setting

and before he goes to bed, while she’s still cleaning pots, he hugs her from behind

and rubs her stomach gently, and she rests her head on his shoulder and let’s put a little sigh

it only lasts a few moments before matron is chasing him out of the kitchen because he’s distracting the other maids

he kisses her cheeks and whispered an ‘I love you’ and ‘goodnight’ and then he is gone

her jobs don’t finish up for a few more hours yet

and when she’s finally done, and she’s bathed and washed off the day

she’s staring at her own bed

and the maids chambers are all dark and quiet

she knows everyone else is asleep getting ready for their next day

so fuck it

she grabs her coat and her slippers and slips through the castle

a little bit too much haste, bumping into things in an area of the castle she’s still not super familiar with

but she makes it

noah’s door is a lot heavier than hers

solid oak and it scrapes against the stone as she opens and closes it

and it wakes him up

he groans and mumbles a “for fucks sake stiles, better not be some shit about a nightmare again”

she blushes because his voice is all deep and he’s not talking all princely like he usual does

“it’s not stiles”

even in the dark she knows he sitting up now as she takes off her coat and slippers

“baby, hey– i mean, are you alright, what wrong, did something happen–”

and he’s already shuffling around to get out of bed when she makes her way over

a little nervous at first

but then she’s lifting up the thicker, plusher, silkier blankets of her bed

and slipping inside

it’s so warm

he’s so warm

and he doesn’t wait even a second

before he’s wrapping her up and pulling her close, and she can feel his smile pressed into her neck when he tucks his face there

“you smell like soap”

“I had a bath”

“without me? I’m hurt.”

and she’s blushing again

he’s a whole new person when he’s sleepy

and he just laughs, rumbly and sleep-laced

before placing a few kisses along her neck and one on her lips

“go to sleep, baby. I got you, now.”

“I know you do.”

matron is not impressed when she’s twenty minutes late to her duties in the morning and still tying her hair up as she comes in

noah spends the whole following day with a stupid smile on his face

and suddenly the winter periods don’t seem so bad now

[wiypt-writes]

Rock ‘N’ Roll People In A Disco World

Part 4- Your Disco Needs You. 

Intro: Paul adjusts to life at home post the shooting.

Pairing: Paul Diskant x Reader

Warnings: Bad language, Smut (NSFW, 18+) A heap of angst and feelings. He’s a soft, lil bean…

Word Count: 8k

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar the reader and any other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Rock ‘n’ Roll People Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Part 3

Three weeks. He'd been home three weeks and with each hour that passed Paul felt less like himself. He was frustrated, angry, irritated and irritable. Upon his discharge from the hospital, his attending physician explained that the road ahead wasn't going to be easy and so far that had proved correct. He'd spent eight days in ICU, not to mention the few after in the recovery ward, and according to the medical team at his disposal, each day spent there in ICU was a full week of added recovery at home. Eight fucking weeks. He wasn’t even half way through. Physically, bar his vocal chords, there had been little lasting damage. Something he should be grateful for, apparently. The wound in his neck had healed well so far, leaving an angry raised pink scar behind, but other than that, to look at, there was no physical signs he’d been moments from death at all. Emotionally, however, well, he was a wreck. If it weren't the continued nightmares as his mind rehashed the horror inflicted in the line of duty, it was the constant desperation to be himself inside and out, to feel like he was HER Disco.  For the first two weeks post the shooting, he'd been reduced to writing things on a notepad for Y/N and others as he couldn't speak more than a word or two and at a faint whisper or angry rasp. Over the last week, it had improved a little but still, holding a prolonged conversation was painful and he often as a result found himself reaching for that fucking notepad as a means to an end when it simply became too damned much to bear. 

He hated it.

Not only was socialising his forte, but his and Y/N’s relationship usually operated with a lot of conversation as they would talk over dinner, joke when watching TV, chat or whisper to each other when laying in bed at night. And not being able to indulge in those simple things properly with his fiancée was killing him. And don't even get him going on his thoughts and anguish over the way they'd not been their usual intimate selves. From touches and sweet kisses, to sex and general intimacy, there had been none, not due to anything she'd done, but all down to him, and how he viewed himself, felt about himself.  He pulled open the fridge, reaching in for the eggs and bacon before he moved to the stove, coffee brewing in the pot to the side. As he set about making them breakfast, he lost himself momentarily, concentrating on whisking the eggs ready to scramble before he heard the bedroom door click open as Y/N shuffled out into the bathroom. A few minutes later he heard her footsteps hit that squeaky board in the small hallway as she headed down to their kitchen. Soon he felt her arms around his waist, hands hooking over his chest and shoulders. Her lips pressed to the back of his shoulder. "I can take over." Quickly, Paul twisted out of her hold and raspilly said, "I can manage." She stepped back from him, and he was immediately crushed with guilt as he took in the look on her face. The way her eyes were downcast and how hard she swallowed. He watched as she blinked hard, moved her lips to say something and then she simply sighed, her shoulders dropping as she turned and left, back the way she came, down the hall and back into the bathroom. When he heard the slam of the door echo across their small apartment, Diskant threw the wooden spoon across the counter and leaned against its edge, a silent curse across his lips as let out a deep sigh.

For the last three weeks, this was how their days had started and ultimately set the tone for the hours to follow. He didn't know where to begin to try and as for Y/N, well, she couldn't try any harder. 

**** The door shut behind you with a little more force than you’d meant, having slammed it by accident in your haste to escape quickly before the tears of frustration and hurt spilt from your eyes. You were trying to rationalise his behaviour, you knew he was frustrated at how his recovery was progressing, more so because physically he looked okay. But he wasn’t. He was weak, sleeping a lot. He struggled to talk for more than a few minutes at a time and the simplest of tasks seemed to leave him drained. But you could cope with that, hell, you expected it. What you hadn’t expected however, was what hurt you the most- the fact he seemed to be shutting you out. Your relationship had always thrived on the fact you had no secrets, there wasn’t a thing the pair of you couldn’t talk about but now, it was like he’d put up a wall to keep you out. And it hurt.

You turned on the shower and whilst you waited for the water to warm, you stripped off your pyjamas and made sure to pile your hair out of the way to avoid it getting wet. Once it was at the right temperature you stepped into the cubicle, closing the glass screen door behind you and tipped your face up to greet the warm spray as the water washed away your silent tears… The day had finally come and he was going home. Things were set and the car was running and waiting. He'd been able to dress in a pair of sweats, his trainers and a button down shirt, sighing as he couldn't just walk out but had to be rolled out. Words were few, and very soft, a stark difference to his typical boisterous laugh and toothy grin. But you were all thankful, thankful he was alive, thankful he was okay and healing. His parents offered to take you both home, yours and Barnes waiting for you to arrive back at the apartment. Your parents had worked diligently at deep cleaning for you, taking one less thing off your list to do, knowing the first few days home would been an adjustment period, learning how to move with one another and go about a new routine from at home therapy to outside appointments, no doubt eventually a steady stream of visitors. You honestly were fine with whatever Paul had wanted. In reality, he hadn't said much or written much on his pad of paper all morning. But you went along with it anyway. The nurse wheeled him out and you walked along his side, the feeling of relief washing over you as you stepped over the threshold of the hospital entrance and watched him breathe in his first breath of fresh air in ten days. You held back tears, thankful for your Wayfarers covering your eyes. But you didn't miss his, the way he was desperately trying to keep himself together around everyone else. He gave a nod in thanks to the nurse and slowly sat down in the back seat of his parents' SUV whilst you moved around to the other side to settle yourself in. Nothing was said, it didn't need to be, but you gave his hand a reassuring squeeze as Big Jim pulled away from the curb and headed towards home. When you went to move your hand away, he gripped it tightly, looking at you with those deep pools of blue.. You wanted to reach out to him, touch him on the one place you knew comforted him, made him melt, tell him he'd be okay, reassure him, but he was to your right, therefore his sutures and bandages were along the left of his neck and you couldn't touch him there, it was still painful, raw and frail. So you let him grip your hand the whole way home, the top of it reaching his lips a few times, just so, you thought at least, that he knew you were there, reminding him he was going to be okay. That he had you. As the four of you made your way into the apartment, you remembered that Barnes, your parents and by now no doubt Sam were there waiting for you all. Sure as you'd guessed, a thundering cheer and smiles came from the living room and filtered into your kitchen. The one bedroom, small space at capacity with guests. It was not the time for a 'Welcome Home' party. As Paul gathered a moment to himself, he looked to you and signalled he needed to write something down, so you grabbed the nearest note pad and a pen, the items you always had on the coffee table that collected your lists for groceries and to do items. His 'Honey Do' list as he liked to call it. He scribbled hastily and practically shoved the pad back at you. 'Can't do this. Need time.' "Okay," you looked at him after reading, "okay." You ushered over to Big Jim and Dotty, gently telling them that he was asking for some space, and they quickly understood, saying their goodbyes as you made the rounds, hoping neither of you looked like assholes in asking everyone to leave. With deep understanding, everyone left, allowing the two of you time together. You went to the kitchen to get water for you both, sighing as you saw the fridge stocked full and a freezer full of meals. Dotty and your mother, no doubt having done all that. When you returned to the living room, just a dozen steps away, Paul was sitting on the couch, hands on his thighs, his eyes closed. "I'm sorry, I should have stepped in and said it was better to have people see you when you were ready. I didn't think...." A deep sigh interrupted you and what was an empty hand was now jotting a note again. He turned the notepad in his lap. 'I just need you.' Your lip quickly quivered and you gently leaned in to kiss his lips softly. "I'm right here." He gave you a small smile as you sat beside him. 

“Do you want to shower? Eat? Sleep?" Paul frowned deeply at each of your asks. He shook his hands at you, trying to tell you to slow down. Then, you sat in silence. He slowly stood after a long stretch of nothing between you and headed down the hall to the bathroom, albeit a bit wobbly at first and when you rose to help steady him, he shrugged you off. You gave him his space, but worried about him on his own. Then you heard the click of the door and the shower running… A knock on the bathroom door dragged you from your thoughts and knowing it could only be Paul, you turned the shower off for a moment so he didn’t have to shout. “Yeah?” You cleared your throat and listened carefully. “Breakfast is waiting when you’re done.” His voice was croaky, but you picked up his words easily enough through the thin door. “Okay, give me a moment. Be right out.” You called back, no longer wondering why he didn't open the door anymore or why he locked it when he was inside.  You turned the shower back on, quickly lathered up your gel before washing and stepping out, towelling down before you slipped on a lightweight robe and opened the door.

*****

He waited for her at their small kitchenette, their places set, food already plated. He admired her, how she was dressed in her robe but as his eyes moved to hers, he noticed those beautiful orbs that he loved waking up to each and every day were red and puffy, despite her shower. He watched as she moved her food around her plate, eyes cast downward at the yellow scrambled eggs, slightly runny just the way she liked them. He tried to clear his throat but it stung so he reached over the tiny table-top and touched her hand. When her eyes met his, he spoke, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to...” The words died in his throat as his voice gave out and he gave an exasperated gesture mouth, a frustrated noise escaping from his nose. "It's okay," she replied, her own words catching in her throat. His chest heaved with a heavy breath and his hand flexed into a fist, redirecting his frustration to have more control of his feelings, a shake of his head. It wasn't okay. None of this was okay. 

She didn't speak, she just slowly popped a shoulder with a shrug and tilted her head to the right to meet it. He could tell she was grinding her teeth, that flex in her jaw evident. She cleared her throat and shook her head, "I can't eat right now." She scooted away from the table and took her plate with her, setting it in the fridge and escaping to their room. When that door shut, Diskant rubbed his hands over his face. Things weren't going to improve between them if he didn't try to get his words out but it was fucking near impossible. And God damn it he was downright exhausted at writing it all down. He had so much to say, so much he wanted to be able to tell her but he didn't want to waste the ink. He wanted his life back. The dishes were done before they'd sat down to eat, so, wanting to give himself time and continue to give Y/N her space, he slipped into the bathroom for his own shower.

Taking a moment to figure out what exactly he was doing, Paul sighed. Shower, then figure it out with Y/N. They needed to talk, properly, even if it made him hoarse. Three weeks of struggling to just.... live and move on were enough. He brought his eyes to the mirror as his stood with his palms flat against the basin, his scar peeking out the top collar of his white tee. 

He'd grown to looking in the mirror more often than when he'd first come home. His reflection made him feel somewhat of a beast, a man no longer what he once was but something of fright. The scar by no means was earth shatteringly grotesque, and Paul wasn't naturally a man of conceitedness, however, it was still a shock to see. 

Not for the first him he'd wondered how it looked to Y/N. It was hideous in his mind, and he was afraid she was grossed out because of it too. The bullet had pierced through one of the places on his body where he simply relished her touch. From the friendly and tender tickle on the couch as they watched TV to the desperate way she would cling to it as she lay under him, it was just something they had shared since the start and now he held a million worries. It might hurt, maybe her touch would have lost the ability to drag the reactions it normally did, that he would have lost that special place that she only she knew about and could use to make him melt.

He was scared of his own girl’s touch, and while it was an absolute ridiculous notion, it flat out petrified him. It petrified him for the very fact that he couldn't feel ANYTHING there. Not the water that touched it, the feel of his own fingers ghosting over it or the bite of a pinch he'd given himself just to test the nerves.

He felt nothing. 

He stared at his reflection, running a hand over the month long beard that had grown as of late. He wasn't supposed to shave, having been on blood thinners since his surgery, but those ran out a few days ago. Turning his head to the right, and then to the left, he sighed. Maybe he'd feel a bit better if he did…more like himself. 

With a sigh he pulled the trimmers from under the sink and plugged them into the outlet. Then he started filling the sink with lukewarm water, preparing a fresh razor for use. Stripping down to his boxer briefs, he took a good look at himself, eyes burning into the mirror as he took in his pale colour, his sad eyes, the dark circles under them, no doubt result of the nightmares waking both he and Y/N in the night, and then that ugly line. He sighed as his mind travelled back to their first night home from the hospital… He hadn’t meant to push everyone away but it was overwhelming. He just wanted her. His second chance at life was handed to him and all he wanted was her, time with her. Everyone and everything else could wait. He was a little unsteady on his feet, a weak wobble really that would surely pass the more he moved but he wasn't his entirely strong self either. He felt weak, looked pale and was sporting a near two week stubble that was itchy, but there was nothing he could do about it. More pressing than the ever increasing facial hair, however, was the fact he was craving a shower. Having suffered the indignity of nothing but sponge baths and body washes in the hospital, he simply wanted nothing more than to stand under the steam of their surprisingly powerful shower, in their little bathroom and clean himself off, wash away the clinical smell of the hospital that seemed to cling to his skin.

He turned the water on first, the sound of it spraying from the shower head a joyful sound. He knew he'd have to go slow, take it easy and be gentle on himself. Paul slipped his sweats down over his narrow hips, the material pooling at his feet and he kicked them away to the corner of the space. Then, with trembling fingers, he started on his button down, swallowing back a nervous knot painfully in his throat. 

By the time he was stripped down to his boxer briefs, there was a covering of steam on the mirror and he swiped at it with his hand. Then gently, ever so gently, he began to peel back the medical tape holding the gauze to his neck, knowing he’d have to replace the dressing once he’d showered. Not that it mattered, he’d been sent home with what felt like enough gauze, dressings and surgical tape to patch up a fucking army.

What he saw was not his own skin. Gone was his St. Christopher medallion on his favourite chain, one his parents had gotten him when he graduated from the Police Academy, and near where the chain would lay against his collarbone and neck was the repair hours of surgery and a week and a half in the hospital had caused him. Still, he was alive. When all was said and done, a chain could be replaced and his wound would heal.

With a final glance at his wound he carefully stepped into the hot water, and a soft moan escaped his mouth as he relished the way it felt on his skin, searing the back of his legs, his ass and lower back. He took a half step back and the water moved up to just under his shoulder blades. As the water beat down on him, he grabbed a bottle of his favoured shower gel and lathered a good amount all over himself, before rinsing and repeating the motion several times. Then, with a movement that was more reflex than conscious, he picked up Y/N's gel and turned the cap, taking a long inhale of the scent that comforted him. He felt his throat tighten and he started to panic, but quickly realized he was swallowing down a cry rather than there being a problem with his wound. He placed the gel back and turned his face into the stream of water, blinking fiercely as the tears welled and bled from his screwed up eyes, mingling with the steady droplets that hit his cheeks from the shower.

He leaned into the stream farther, allowing it to wash over his head, literally drowning out the sound of everything around him. His palms rested flat against the tile, a stretch and pull from his muscles that had atrophied during his stay. Awakening muscles and tendons that were mangled and manipulated to heal.

How long he was in there, he had no idea, but eventually, he felt the temperature starting to drop a little, signalling he'd been in there far longer than he'd intended. Reaching out, he turned the shower off and then stepped out, grabbing a towel which he ran over his head, almost snorting when he remembered his hair was no longer as short as it had been, realising that Y/N had never really seen him with hair as such before.

Because yeah, that’s what she was going to be looking at. His hair, not the huge three inch gash on his neck that made him look like some kind of fucking Frankenstein monster. 

With a roll of his eyes, Paul wrapped his lower half in a towel and opened the door to the bathroom, stepping across the hall. When he entered the bedroom, he found Y/N sitting in the edge of their bed, a familiar necklace in her hands like a rosary, her knees bouncing up and down. He noted how cautiously she lifted her eyes to look at his, and didn't miss the way they quickly flicked to his wound and back to his. He felt that painful lump in his throat for again. She rose to her feet and took a step toward him. 

“The chain, well... they had to cut it.” She said quietly, holding out her hand where the necklace sat. “So I got you a new one.” She held it out to him and he paused, his hand reaching towards the chain “The pendant was fine so...”

He reached out to take it, his fingers softly brushing her palm as he clasped the metal in his hands. He turned the small, silver disk over and gave her a small smile before he placed it on his nightstand.

“Do you want me to put it on?” She asked, moving to pick it up. “I can-"

With a movement that was a little harsher than he’d meant he reached out and grabbed her wrist, holding it still a few inches away from the chain. She turned to look at him, a combination of shock and puzzlement on her face as he hastily shook his head.

"Okay," she whispered. "I'm sorry."

Taking a deep breath, Paul ran his hand over his face and shook his head at her. “S’okay.” Were the only words he could manage to rasp out. His eyes bored into her as he desperately tried to make her understand he wasn’t angry at her.

"I'll uh... You start getting dressed and I'll grab the bag from the hospital."

“Bag?” He half spoke, half mouthed at her, his brow creasing in puzzlement. 

"The one with the bandages."

He shook his head, waving his hands. “I can-“ his voice broke and she smiled.

“Paul, it’s fine, let me...”

He once more shook his head. 

“Baby...”

At that his fist slammed on the nightstand and making her jump.

Her breath was shaky and her lip quivered, her eyes instantly watering. He knew for a fact he'd scared Y/N for he'd never reacted like that in any situation with her.

Backing away from him, she held her hands up defensively and shrugged, "Okay, I'll just go get it for you."

As he recalled the memory, his head hung in disgrace, much the same as it had that evening when she’d left the room, tears in her eyes. He hadn’t meant to push her away like he had, but since that first time he’d continued to do so. And the more he did, the harder it was to stop. And she took it, never biting back or losing her patience. She accepted the fact that he showed her less affection, took everything he threw at her and then some, because she loved him. And damned it, he loved her, he loved her so fucking much it truly, physically hurt. And the thought that he was hurting her because of his inability to sort the jumbled mess in his head was killing him.

Taking a deep breath, he set out on the task he'd started. A shave and a shower. The vibration of the trimmers hummed against his cheeks and neck, trimming away the longer hairs, creating a stubble he then fully removed with his cream and razor. Then, he showered, taking his time, losing himself in his thoughts and playing back the last month in his mind. It was no walk in the park and a frustration and anger bubbled just beneath the surface, it was like he'd recognized he wasn't the same. And was fighting a never ending battle with himself to pull out of the darkness that had overcome him so he could let her light shine in. Fuck it, he needed to do it. He needed to rip the proverbial fucking band aid off and own up to his shit. Because losing her, that was absolutely not an option. 

But how? Would she be willing? After all he'd put her through. He was still scared, and he knew his own limits were still there. But they had to start connecting or he was going to lose her. He felt it. 

Towelling off, he disposed of his laundry in the dirty hamper and wrapped his towel around him. He looked in the mirror and again wiped off the condensation. He nodded at his reflection. Now he looked like Diskant. HER Disco. He smiled a little to himself and left the bathroom, feeling a lot different than when he'd entered. 

When she wasn't in their room, he dressed in jeans and a tee, flip flops on his feet and headed down their small hall. He saw her tucked into the couch, a slouched long sleeve over her taught frame, denim shorts on those hips and legs that made his mouth dry. He could see the smoothness of them and his fingers tingle to touch them. Deep red painted toes balanced on the edge of the coffee table as she read the book she'd started recently. 

He sat down next to her, garnering her attention. She looked at him with those beautiful eyes of hers. Those eyes that make him weak. Make him purr and melt and feel like he can conquer the world all at once. Those eyes that make him feel like a man above himself. 

At the risk of losing his voice entirely, he began with, "I feel cooped up and it's driving me crazy. Can we go somewhere?" 

A smile so genuine spread across her lips that it twisted his gut and sped up his heart. "Yeah, okay. Any idea where?" 

He shook his head, "I just want to go. I want us to get out of here." He made sure emphasize the us in that reply, even if it didn't sound as so. 

"Okay, let's go," she tossed her book on the coffee table and stood, grabbing her bag by the door and slipping into flip flops of her own.

****

You humoured his request, just to go for a drive. And you drove for hours, all over the place. But little did you realize where you'd end up eventually.

It was late in the day and the parking lot was emptying out. You'd pulled into a spot and turned to him, the Ferris wheel and various stands along the pier behind you. His eyes were covered by his own Wayfarers but his smile was soft and sweet.

"I'm kinda hungry, are you hungry?" You said to him, a humorous tone to your voice. Your words echoing ones he'd spoken to you so long ago, words that had become an inside joke between you. 

He chuckled lightly, softly and replied with a nod as the two of you exited the car. You waited for him to meet you on your side. The second he joined you, he took your hand in his and together you walked the bike path until the steps up to the pier were accessible.

He stood at the railing, about halfway down, as you ordered two beers, two hot dogs and fries to share. The sun was just at the horizon, painting the sky in watercolour sherbet, and Paul's silhouette stood out against it. He saw you approach and grabbed his dog and beer from you, lightening your load. The two of you shacked up at a table near the games, almost the same table the two of you sat at on your first date.

“You know, I was suckered into a first date here? Guy was a total swindler, stalker too."

He swallowed his bite of food and washed it down with beer before he smiled and rasply said, "you were willing to go with me. I didn't sucker you."

“You totally trapped me.”

"You needed help, I offered," he pointed to himself, then to you and smiled, "willing participant."

"However you spin it so you can sleep at night," you sighed. "I'm just glad I fell for it."

Paul nodded, "me too." He perched his sunglasses on top of his head. "I love you, so much." He took your beer from your hand and set it on the table top, whilst pulling both of your hands into his. 

You couldn't hide the obvious hitch in your chest at the outward affection. The lump in your throat hurt to swallow as your eyes welled up. "I know, I love you, too. More than anything." You fought the emotion in your words, the way they were starting to make your voice quiver.

He sighed at your emotion and shook a deep breath. “This isn't easy." He stalled, allowing his voice rest a second in order to keep trying to get his words out. "I'm not easy." He paused again. "I’m sorry.”

"It's okay," you shook your head.

"It's not." His voice was starting to give way again and you saw the frustration on his face.

“Hey...” you squeezed his hand, “I’d rather you did take it out in me than bottle it all up. I don’t like it when you don’t tell me how you’re feeling.” It broke you to watch him struggle, each and every day it broke you. And you were at the end of your rope, frayed and tired of keeping it together. You sighed. “Just take your time. I’m not going anywhere. Text me for Christ's sake!”

He chortled a bit and shook his head, "it's not the same." He brought your hands to his lips and you closed your eyes at the feeling it gave you.

You shook your head, if he wasn't going to make the first move then you needed to try. "Do you trust me?"

He frowned and nodded. “Always.”

Without words, you leaned forward, scooting yourself onto the edge of his seat bench and leaned the forearm to your left arm against his right shoulder. Your fingers scratching behind his ear. Gently you brought your right hand up his chest, slowly, delicately, over his shoulder and he flinched away from you. "Paul, please," you whispered. You could see the way his body started to shake, his breathing laboured. "It's just me, baby."

The closer your fingers got, the more his hands twitched to pull you away. You didn't know for certain what was going on on the inside, but you had a pretty good idea. On the outside, his eyes shone back at you with fear as he tried to just breathe. Then your fingertips brushed the raised pink skin that just peeked over the edge of his tee…

The pads of her fingers felt like red, hot needles the way his skin was reacting. But that was nothing compared to what was firing in his brain.

He clenched his teeth together, tried to keep his breathing calm and regular as those gentle fingers that could make him purr and sing moved delicately over the raised edges of his scar, her eyes never once leaving his. Quickly, the feeling of red hot needles dissipated and he felt nothing but a relief that washed over him from his scar to his toes. He could just feel her and that was monumental. 

A deep, shaky breath rumbled his chest as he painfully swallowed the lump in his throat, knowing it all twitched under her touch. It felt the same. Nothing had changed, that familiar tingle he usually felt at her touch sparked something deep inside. The involuntary little shudder he always emitted when she hit that little sweet spot, shot up and down his spine and he felt his lips curl up on a smile as his girl beamed at him. 

“See.” She whispered.

“How...” his voice croaked and the words died as he took a deep breath, giving himself a moment. “How did you know that was...” another pause before he shook his head, gesturing to his mouth.

“Because, Paul Christopher Diskant, I know you inside out.” She delicately touched him still, her nails just at that spot that made him quiver. "This doesn't change anything. Not now, not ever."

He let out a strained sob, pulling her close, his lips harshly on hers.

“Tell me about it, Stud.” She smiled against his lips. 

"Let's go home," he managed before his voice cut out again.

“Is that an order or a request?” She teased.

He grinned and popped a shoulder in response. 

The drive from Santa Monica to home was the most comfortable you'd been in weeks, and you could tell Paul was too. As you drove, he couldn't stop smiling, like this weight had been lifted and the fog between you cleared. His eyes didn't leave your profile, his fingers entwined between yours, never letting go.

****

His hand never left yours as you walked the short path from the garage to your little one bedroom shack, even single-handed unlocking and opening the door. You couldn't even step through the threshold before his lips were on yours, soft and slow, gentle, his tongue gliding through the opening you gave him. A kiss so deep you were sure the two of you were ethereally floating. You tossed your bag on the couch as you passed it by, toeing off your sandals as Paul gently tugged on your hand, an instruction to follow him.

Down the narrow hall you went, directly to your bedroom tucked off in the right corner at the end of it. Again, his lips are on yours and if you didn't know any better, you'd detected a slight tremble in his touch as his hands came to hold your face close to his. Your hands rested against his chest as he kissed you breathless. There was no rush or desperation behind his kiss, if anything a wanton need crept through the both of you but you weren't going to push him, no. You knew Paul needed to set the pace, for whilst you could read him like a book, this terrain was new and navigating his new emotions and fears needed to be on his time and terms.

You were just happy he was touching you again, allowing you to touch him. You missed him, missed the way the two of you were. This had by far been the longest the two of you had been intimately separated since your beginning. 

His hands left your cheeks and gently gripped at the bottom of your top. You stepped back a little, raising your arms so he could pull it straight over your head. You watched his eyes soften as he looked at you, almost like he was seeing you for the first time again. You reached for the hem of his own shirt, but he took a half step back, freezing you.

“You don’t have to,” you whispered, “if you’re not ready, leave it on or... it can wait, we can wait.”

He swallowed hard and quickly his hand gripped the back of his collar, pulling the tee over his head. You took care to keep your eyes locked on his, knowing exactly what was making him nervous- his scars. As his eyes searched yours, your face broke into a smile and then he was back on you, his hands on your hips, pulling you close as his mouth claimed yours. His hands felt warm on your skin as they travelled up your sides, only letting go to move to your jaw and neck. His thumbs across your cheek, his fingers splayed around your neck and into your hair. 

He kissed you with all tongue, his lips massaging against yours as he changed the position of his head, tilting it the opposite way. And for a moment he pulled away, his hands still on you, the burn of his eyes lustfully blown as they bore into yours. Then, he moved in on you again, his nose bumping against yours as his thick, flat tongue filled your mouth fully, yours submitting against it, allowing him to devour you. It was as if he was opening up your soul, tasting feeling and seeing every colour of the rainbow. You felt as if your body was going to explode with the feeling sheer desire and love flooding hours state, but above it all, happiness that he was kissing you like this again. 

It left you breathless and wanting more. You actively fought the urge to rip his belt buckle open and shove his jeans down, trying hard to leave him to set the pace. But, as always, he could read you like the pages of a well-worn novel and that maddeningly smug, cheeky school-boy grin crossed his face. It twisted your insides and made your skin tingle.

His fingers wound through your hair as he backed you towards the mattress. As the crook of your knees hit the side of the bed, he kissed you again, his fingers moving to the button of your denim shorts. Your mind was excited, your body fully responding to his touch, his movements. You’d missed this. His fingertips touched your tummy and you shivered, the denim quickly falling away as you fell onto the mattress.

You watched as he undid his button and flies, the zipper echoing in the stillness of your room, bouncing off the exposed brick and vibrating in your ears. He kicked off his shoes and stepped out of his denims, strong thighs, arms and taught abs flexing as he crawled over you, his hands planting either side of your head. The muscles of his shoulders twitched as he lowered himself over you, his lips claiming yours in a slow dance, his tongue leisurely tangling with yours, a soft sigh escaping him.

You continued to resist the urge to touch him where you have always shown him you're there with him, that part of him that makes him sing and shiver. That spot that only you know of that makes him melt against you, submit to his lust and desires for you. Instead, as his tongue felt every part of yours, his hands caging himself over you, you tilted your hips, your hands grazing the underside of his biceps, curling around the raised skin of his tattoos. At the feel of your pelvis bumping his, he gave a little grunt, breaking the kiss, his forehead pressing to yours as he returned the gesture, his own grinding into yours, the hardness of his arousal unmistakable through his boxer briefs as it brushed against the thin cotton and lace of your panties.  His words hit your ears, "need you, Sugar, so bad." You practically purred as you heard your nickname clearly and for the first time in weeks, not strangled by pain, or muted by frustration. His voice was his own once again and it caused a sting in your eyes. Your hands moved along his torso, from his ribs down to his hips, the waistband of his boxers bent by your fingertips. All whilst his lips moved over your jaw, behind your ear where you gasped before he moved down your neck, nestling soft kisses against the tops of your breasts. “You got me, Stud. Always.” At that, he crashed his lips to yours in an attempt to hide the sob you could faintly feel against your own lips.

Your hands gently cupped his jaw, holding his face to yours as the kiss grew desperate, his hips rolling into yours again. Suddenly, he moved back, kneeling between your legs as his hands hooked into the waistband of your panties. “Off.” His voice was raspy once more as he issued the instruction, yet the undercurrent of desire was unmistakable. Obliging to his instruction, you raised your hips off the bed and allowed him to pull them down, his body shuffling along the bed as he glided the garment down over your legs. His heavy hands caressed up your thighs, his thumbs drawing circles over your skin. God, did your skin burn in delight at his touch, you had to wonder and think if he felt the same. There was no denying he did, or you wouldn't be here, you'd still be at the pier, figuring out how to navigate his feelings, his fears. His body led over you, your sex and his barely touching, but yet twitching and pulsing with deep desires of need. His hand pulled down the cup of your bra, his mouth taking gentle nips against your breast as his mouth moved to your nipple, where he gently rolled it between his lips before his tongue swirled the sensitive nub. Your back arched in pleasure, one hand twisting in his hair, the other fisting in the sheets besides you. His free hand slipping behind your back to expertly unclasp your bra, allowing it to loosen around your arms.  "Paul...." you moaned. His free hand reached for yours that was fisted in the sheets, pulling your fingers apart and taking your palm against his, entwining your fingers. You were more than ready for him. Like he needed you, you just needed him too. It took one rock, one hip thrust and he slid right inside. "Oh fuck," you both let out, his a good rasp and yours a whimper. It felt so good, beyond good, the way he filled you, stretched you. You wasted no time in flicking your hips up towards his as he thrust down. Your insides fluttered as you joined together each time. God, did it feel... so... fucking... good. Again and again he rocked into you, his movements needy but not harsh, as a desperate need filled you both. You lightly nudged him with a knee and together you rolled, him to his back and you over his hips, still with him settled inside you. Tossing your bra to the floor with the rest of your clothes, you rocked against him whilst he reached up and held your bouncing breasts in his hands, a gentle tweak of each nipple. The sensation sent ripples to your middle, warmth pooling at your core and you gave a soft moan of delight before you bent forward, your lips on his. The kiss was sloppy, his hips still rocking up into you as your pelvis rolled against his. You were close, you knew he could feel you twitching around him. Your lips were covering his as you slowly bounced and rocked on top of him, a pressure to your clit that was blissfully crippling.

In a sudden exertion of strength, Paul sat up and his arms wrapped around your back, holding you close to his chest, his lips moving over your collar bone and down your sternum. He was as deep inside you as he could go, bottoming out as the angle changed and he was clearly hitting a new spot that erupted your insides like a volcano. Your body shook as your orgasm boiled at its peak, with each jut of his hips against you. With one hand around you, the other moving hair away from your eyes and keeping it back by his fingers, his nose rubbed against yours. You wrapped your arms around his neck as he brought your lips to his. You were going to come and it was going to be absolutely amazing. Deepening your kiss, your fingers scratched at the back of his neck, just at the nape of his hairline and you started to feel him quiver. There he was, right there, like always. Your lips broke free from his and nipped at his strong jaw before kissing at the joint where it met his ear. You were careful now, despite the throws of your own orgasm starting to crash around you, to weigh your moves with precise care as you gently, delicately kissed down his neck. Your lips hit that pinkish-red raised mark and your world exploded. The blood surged to your ears, deafening you as you came, hard. Your eyes fluttered closed but the noise he made broke through clear as day, and they flew open again. Those beautiful blues were locked into your gaze as his broken whimper of your name blew into a loud groan as he clung to you, his hips stilling, his eyes fluttering shut. His noise died down, catching in his throat, his chest heaving as you felt him twitch inside of you, the after-throws of both your orgasms pulsing together. Tenderly, your hands slid up to cup his face as you kissed him softly, feeling him sag a little, and you gently pushed on his chest. You didn’t want him to release his hold but you knew he was going to be exhausted. He didn’t take much persuasion, his body boneless as he sank onto the soft mattress behind him. You went with him, your head tucking under his chin as the pair of you recovered, the only sound in the room the dying pants as you both eagerly drew breath.

His hand slipped into your hair, cradling the back of your head as you shifted and pressed your lips to his jaw.

“You okay?” You asked. 

He nodded, swallowing hard as his other arm ran up and down your spine, fingers gently tracing a path along your still touch sensitive body. His lips pressed to the crown of your head. 

When you'd regained the feeling of life back into to your body, you sat up, rolling off of Paul's hips, garnering a look of confusion from him. He loved when you would keep him inside you, and continue to feel the warmth of one another's bodies. You smiled softly at him, sleepily. You saw the look on his face, the look of contentment but of need and seeking comfort. It was a look you'd come to memorize as his 'I'm tired' look. Soft features, heavy eyes. Blissed out from love making or not, Paul was exhausted and you read every hint of it you memorized over the years. 

"C'mere," you now rasped, your voice rattled by emotion and dry from moaning. 

His lazy smirk crossed his lips and he knew that tone. He knew what was coming next. He rolled to his left and pressed his lips to yours gently before laying his head on your chest. You traced your first two fingers gently up and down his neck, along his shoulder and back up, a repeated pattern you only you had the map to. 

A combination of a contented sigh with a little hum left his throat as his weight over you grew heavier, like the comfort of a weighted blanket. You blinked back the tears, because although you'd heard it time and time again, right then, it was the most beautiful sound he’d ever made. 

**** Part 5

[babbushka]

June Fic Recap!

Hello everyone! It’s officially July which means that it’s time for the monthly fic recap. If you’re new here, this is the opportunity I take to compile all the new writing that I posted this month, for those who may have missed some posts, or who are looking to re-read, or who may be new here and want to jump in on the fun! I also update each character masterlist with this new writing, so if you’ve been looking for the update, here it is! 

Oneshots:

Hide Your Smile ; Flip Zimmerman x Reader (darkfic, please heed the tags)***

Best Boys ; Paterson x Reader x Paul Sevier (Sevier Twins AU)***

Love on Me ; Ancient Emperor!Kylo Ren x Goddess Reader***

First Glimpse, Last Looks ; 007!Reader x BondVillain!Kylo Ren***

Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy ; Flip Zimmerman x Reader***

Character Headcanons:

Sevier Twins AU -- worldbuilding headcanons

Our Hill of Stars AU -- Ancient Emperor Kylo Ren x Concubine/Goddess Reader worldbuilding headcanons***

Summer Wine AU -- 007!Reader x BondVillain!Kylo Ren worldbuilding headcanons

The boys being subs***

The boys’ love languages

The boys desperately wanting your attention

The boys reacting to a radical new haircut

The boys going to a concert with you

The boys dancing with you

Charlie Barber & praise kink

Clyde Logan navigating life with his PTSD

Spending summers with Clyde Logan

Clyde Logan getting a Queer Eye makeover

Clyde Logan being touch starved at the beginning of your relationship

Clyde Logan visiting his old friends in prison

Clyde Logan making special drinks inspired by you

Flip Zimmerman jerking off while you’re away

Flip Zimmerman being entirely too comfortable around you/being gross together lol

Flip Zimmerman having 0 patience for a Queer Eye makeover lol

Flip Zimmerman cheering you up when you’re sad

Flip Zimmerman’s reaction to you waiting for him before going to sleep

Helping Paul Sevier relax after a long day at work

Knights of Ren x Reader dynamic***

Stepping on Supreme Leader Kylo Ren***

Morning routine with Supreme Leader Kylo Ren

Domestic soft fluff with Supreme Leader Kylo Ren

Sleeping with Supreme Leader Kylo Ren

Early parts of your relationship with Mob!Kylo Ren

Mob!Kylo Ren going to college with you

Dating the Sevier Twins

Falling in love with the Sevier Twins

Paterson taking control in the bedroom when you’re not feeling well**

Emperor Kylo courting you with the help of his children

Watching gladitorial games with Emperor Kylo****

Emperor Kylo and his children

Emperor Kylo’s children’s personalities

Emperor Kylo’s children adoring you/seeing you as a mother

Emperor Kylo being possessive over you

Emperor Kylo washing you in the bath house

Making Pale laugh

Soft evening in with Pale

BondVillain!Kylo giving you extravagant gifts 

Character Imagines: 

Kylo Ren 

Mob!Kylo: Fucking you until you’re pregnant***

Mob!Kylo: Eating your pussy at the opera***

Mob!Kylo: Sharing a soft smile from across a crowded room 

Mob!Kylo: Taking you on a date that’s not going well

Supreme Leader Kylo: Being soft and in love with you

Supreme Leader Kylo: Having a very silly nightmare

Supreme Leader Kylo: Killing a traitor/intruder

Supreme Leader Kylo: Writing and drawing on your skin with his calligraphy tools

Supreme Leader Kylo: Seeking out comfort from you when he’s upset

BeautifulBeloved!Kylo: Giving you extravagant gifts

Knight!Kylo: Calming you during a thunderstorm

Archaeologist!Kylo: Stargazing together

AncientEmperor!Kylo: Worshipping you like the goddess you are***

AncientEmperor!Kylo: Eating you out and fucking you in front of everyone at dinner****

AncientEmperor!Kylo: Being rough and possessive with you***

AncientEmperor!Kylo: Stargazing together

The story of how you and Emperor Kylo adopted a pet tiger (Our Hill of Stars AU)

BondVillain!Kylo: Being swept away for a day on a yacht together

BondVillain!Kylo: Kylo whisking you away to his island lair so you can rest up and kiss

BondVillain!Kylo: Kylo sneaking into your hotel with room service

Flip Zimmerman

Flip fucking you loud hard and sloppy***

Flip fingering you during a massage***

Roleplay & strip poker with Flip***

Teasing Flip at the bar and getting fingered for it****

Sitting on Flip’s lap and making out with him** 

Flip getting all lovey-dovey and starry eyed after sex with you**

Flip being a very sore loser at game night

Fluffy date night in with Flip

Tooth-rottingly sweet domestic fluff with Flip

Flip rubbing sunscreen all over you

Counting Flip’s freckles

Flip kissing a sex injury

Tickle fight with Flip

Thermostat fight with Flip

Paul & Paterson Sevier

Paterson and Paul getting ready for their first date with you

Shower sex with Paterson and Paul***

Threesome with Paul and Paterson during movie night***

Making Paul coffee just the way he likes it

Deep passionate kisses with Paterson

Taking Paterson out on a surprise date

Grocery shopping with Paterson & Paul**

Paterson taking you and Paul to his favorite bar for the first time

Going on vacation with Paterson and Paul

Going on a dream trip to Paris with Paterson and Paul***

Paul and Paterson celebrating your birthday

Cuddling with Paul and Paterson

Clyde Logan

Clyde being desperately horny for you***

Riding Clyde’s face***

Clyde being the best matchmaker in Boone County

Clyde apologizing for a silly fight you have

Clyde cheering you up when you’re feeling down

Clyde stealing a moment to be with you during Mellie’s wedding reception

Pale

Sucking Pale’s cock while he’s driving***

Dragging Pale on a hiking trip lol

Pale refusing to go to sleep until he kills a fly in the room

Pale being sentimental and worrying about growing old

Charlie Barber

Mutual masturbation/sexting with Charlie***

Charlie eating you out for your first time***

Cameron Bissel 

Roleplaying after ren faire with Cameron***

The total wordcount for June comes in at: 82,689!

Thank you all for spending another month with me, and whether you’ve been following for a day or a month or a year, it means the world that you all enjoy the writing! I hope that July treats us all with kindness, and I am sending you my love!

*** = NSFW Content

[babyboywilson]

Tinsel and Tourists Chapter Twenty-One

Word Count: 2,054 (longest chapter yet- chapter continued under the Read More)

Dean’s POV

Link to ao3 / Link to masterpost

“Dean,” Sam said, voice quiet as he walked up to him across the snow as Cas limped away.

“Don’t,” Dean threatened, tears burning his eyes. “Just don’t. Because if I have to hear you say I told you so-”

“I would never, Dean,” Sam said, hand coming out to rest on Dean’s shoulder.

Dean shrugged him off before making his way back through the forest towards the Impala, not wanting to be there for another second. He didn’t want to talk; didn’t want to think. Just wanted to drown himself in alcohol until he couldn’t feel the gaping hole in his heart.

They drove in complete silence, and when they got back to the motel, Sam tried again. “I’m sorry, Dean,” he said softly, expression morphing into one of pity.

Grabbing three beers from the fridge, Dean shook his head. “I’m getting some air.” Without waiting for Sam to respond, Dean pushed his way outside, letting the cold air bite his skin and whisk away the tears that stung his cheeks. For a while he sat on the hood of the Impala, draining one beer after another in record speed. But even with the buzz of the alcohol, Dean’s heart still ached in ways he’d never felt before.

Instead of heading back into the motel and facing Sam, Dean climbed into the backseat of the Impala and closed his eyes. He just needed something to ground him, and as the tears silently tracked down his cheeks, he let Baby be his comfort in the agonizing pain. He drifted off into a fitful sleep; nightmares of Cas getting attacked over and over again by the druid as he screamed out for Cas and tried to protect him.

A tap against the window startled Dean awake, leaving him feeling groggy and hungover, and he saw Sam outside; finger against the window. Pulling himself up, Dean rubbed a hand over his face and opened the door.

“We should hit the road. Bobby might have found us a case in Maine,” Sam said. There was still a hint of sympathy in Sam’s tone, as if he wasn’t sure if he should be getting Dean out of the state or encouraging him to stay.

Dean nodded without a word, dragging himself back into the motel and forcing himself into the shower; washing away the stale feeling and the heartbreak.

Twenty minutes later, everything was packed into the Impala and Dean was sitting behind the wheel. The engine was running, and Dean's hands were on the wheel, but he felt frozen in place. He couldn't do it. He couldn't. "Sam, I can't…" Dean whimpered, eyes stinging with tears as he turned his gaze to the passenger seat. "I can't."

He didn't even need to say the words- not that he could even articulate them- but Sam understood. Reaching out, Sam put his hand on Dean's forearm reassuringly. "You love him, don't you?" Sam whispered.

Dean nodded, heart lurching and cracking in his chest. "I'm so fucking in love with him that I can barely breathe," Dean admitted, words lodging in his throat

"Go find him and talk to him. Win him back, Dean."

"I can't. Sam. I can't. The look in his eyes last night… he told me to leave."

"And you're going to accept that and walk away? Who are you? Because that's not my brother. Get off your ass and chase after your man, Dean. Because if you don't, you'll regret it for the rest of your life," Sam said firmly.

"Great pep talk, Sammy."

Sam snorted. "Tough love. Go to the diner and tell him you love him or so help me God I'm feeding you to the next werewolf I come across."

Putting his hands up in defeat, Dean shut the car off and handed the keys to Sam. "Just in case you need them."

"I'll tell Bobby to find another hunter to get the case in Maine," Sam said as Dean climbed out of the car.

Dean speed walked to the diner, dodging past people on the streets; his mind intent on finding Cas. Every single thought in his mind was just Cas, Cas, Cas. God, he was so achingly in love he could feel it deep in his bones. He just needed five minutes- just five minutes to tell Cas he was completely and utterly in love with him.

Pushing his way into the diner, Dean heaved a sharp breath as his lungs burned from the fast walk. His eyes darted around, trying to peer into the kitchen to see if he could spot Cas’ beautiful blue eyes and messy hair. But just as Dean’s gaze settled on Cas and his heart skipped a beat, he was being forcefully grabbed by someone, pulled back towards the entrance with a sharp shove.

“You need to leave. My brother wants nothing to do with you,” a man said, marching Dean out.

“Gabriel?”

“Yeah, that’s right. And you’re the asshat who broke my brother’s heart. Get out of here before I break your face,” Gabriel threatened, shoving Dean out the door, causing Dean to stumble and almost lose his footing on the icy snow.

“No! Wait! Please, I can explain. I just- I need five minutes with him. That’s all I’m asking for. I want to explain-”

“Explain what, exactly? That some monster attacked my brother, and you’re some “hero” here to save him?”

“He told you?” Dean asked in shock.

“You mean through the crying? Yeah, he told me. I had to bandage him up when he and Libby made their way back here last night. And let me tell ya, I’m not putting any trust in you either right now,” Gabriel said harshly.

“Please, Gabriel. Please? I’m begging. I just need to tell him-”

“Tell him what? That you’re a liar who kept shit from him? He trusted you, Dean. Do you even get how huge that was for him? No. You probably don’t, do you? Cas has already had his heart broken. He was engaged, and his fiance cheated on him and then humiliated him in the worst way possible. Cas hasn’t trusted anyone since, and he certainly hasn’t gone and fallen in love with anyone. He’s more guarded than a freaking bank vault with his heart. And he let you in, and you utterly destroyed him in ways that made his broken engagement look like child's play,” Gabriel hissed, jabbing a finger in Dean’s chest.

Dean felt the air leave his lungs in a sharp gasp, and his eyes stung. That’s what Cas was going to tell him after their ice skating date. Oh God. Oh God. What had he done? Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“I’m not- you don’t understand. The last thing I wanted to do was hurt him. I’m so in love with your brother…” Dean trailed off, losing his words for a second as tears choked him, burning his throat. Pulling in a deep breath, Dean kicked at the snow before finally looking back up at Gabriel. “I’m so far gone for Cas it’s unreal. I’ve never- you have to understand,” Dean begged. “I’ve lived my whole life on the road. Hunting is my life. White picket fences and settling down, that was never going to happen for me. But then I met Cas… and I’ve never wanted love more in my entire life. I love him. Please. Just- just let me see him. Even if he doesn’t… want me anymore. I just. I just need him to know it was real. That I couldn’t even force myself to pull out of the motel parking lot and leave without telling him I’m earth-shatteringly in love with him.”

Something in Gabriel’s expression morphed, softening just slightly. “You love him?”

“Yes. God yes,” Dean said quickly. “I’m so in love with Cas I can barely breathe when I’m around him,” Dean admitted, and God, he thought it would be hard to say those words- to admit he was in love- but it wasn’t hard at all. It felt so goddamn right. Falling in love with Cas had felt like driving Baby on backroads; it felt like coming home.

Gabriel nodded slowly, puffing out a breath of air that fogged around them. “Alright, fine. You’ve got five minutes with him, alright? That’s it,” Gabriel said. “Stay here. I’ll go get him.”

And then Gabriel was disappearing back into the diner. He was only gone a couple of minutes, but those two minutes felt like the longest and most agonizing moments of Dean’s life.

The second Cas stepped outside, the air left Dean’s lungs in a sharp gasp and he found himself instantly leaning into Cas’ space before remembering himself; before remembering that Cas wasn’t his anymore.

“Five minutes. That’s it. And then you’re gone,” Cas said stiffly before moving to sit on the closest bench.

Dean hesitated for a second, hovering a few steps away before sitting down next to Cas. “Gabriel said you wanted to explain and had something important to say.”

Slowly, Dean reached out, brushing his fingers along the inside of Cas’ wrist. Cas stuttered out a breath, seemingly forgetting himself, as for a brief second he started to link their hands together, before realizing what he was doing and yanking his hand away.

Dean’s heart shattered in his chest all over again, and he couldn’t stop the whimper from slipping past his lips.

“Cas,” Dean whispered brokenly. “I need you to know- it was real. This. Us. We’re real. My feelings for you, they’re real. I’m devastatingly in love with you, Cas. Absolutely and utterly head over heels in love with you. You- you leave me breathless. I can barely stand to be away from you. I’m so freaking in love with you it aches in my bones. This is the most real thing I’ve ever felt in my whole life. I’m crazy about you. I need you to know, Cas. I need you to know that I’m achingly and madly in love with you,” Dean said, words hovering in the air between them.

Cas sat for a second, completely frozen. And then Dean started to panic. It was too late. He was too late. He'd lost Cas. His entire body began to shake, heart crumbling in his chest.

And then, after a solid minute of silence in which Dean thought he'd lost the best thing that had ever happened to him, Cas spoke up, whispering quietly, “You love me?”

Dean choked on a sob, leaning forward and pressing his forehead against Cas’. “I’m so deeply in love with you. From the moment I met you, I was falling for you. But after our date, after our kisses, I’m so far gone for you that I'd propose to you right now if I could. I love you, Cas.”

Cas let out a little whine, leaning into Dean’s touch. Dean’s heart ricocheted in his chest, and he reached out, sliding his hands to Cas’ jaw, tilting his head up. “Let me kiss you? Please God, Cas, please let me kiss you,” Dean babbled, brushing his nose against Cas’ softly.

A sob slipped from Cas’ mouth and he nodded, hands reaching up to grip tightly to Dean’s wrists. “Kiss me.”

Dean lurched forwards, connecting their lips and kissing Cas like he was Dean’s source of air. He kissed and kissed and kissed him, hungrily sliding his tongue into Cas’ mouth and slotting their lips together.

Little soft gasps kept falling out of Cas' mouth, and Dean just kissed him harder, until all he could taste was Cas. Finally, when his lungs were absolutely burning, Dean broke the kiss, gasping for air before pecking Cas several more times on the lips.

"I love you," Dean murmured, pressing the confession against Cas' lips.

Cas' fingers came up and tangled in his hair. "I- I love you, too. Don't leave. Dean please. Don't leave. Stay."

Dean nodded, leaning forward to press another tender kiss to Cas' lips. When he pulled back, he moved to trail his fingertips over the bump at the back of Cas' head. "Are you okay?"

"Yes," Cas said slowly. And then, "You owe me the truth, Dean."

"I do." Reaching out, Dean slipped his hand into Cas', head spinning as Cas tangled their fingers together. "What do you want to know?"

Tag List Part 1 Below- (please let me know if you’d like to be added or removed from the list!)

Tag List: @cas-deserved-so-much-more @hello-x-sunshine​ @bibelphegor​ @likepurplemuses​ @expectingtofly​ @neo-neo-neo​ @shadowywerewolfqueen​ @a-sweet-indisposition​ @feraladoration​ @xojo​

@oganizediguana​ @paintdriesfaster​ @adsp-destielcockles​ @destielangst​ @im-your-huckle-berry @justa-crayon​ @dea-stiel​ @superduckbatrebel​ @destielfactory​ @miluiel-erynion​

@y-yo-a-ti-cas67 @cockleslovesdestiel​ @toxic-nebula​ @misha-moose-dean-burger-lover @enchantinghairdoherringwombat​ @proudace​ @galaxymysteryelephant​ @aelysianmuse​ @ramennoodles-dean-cas @you-changedmedean

@gmos-winter-wonderland @deansotherotherblog​ @trekkie24 @geo-val​ @dizzypinwheel​ @hermionevaldez9​ @gimmeprozac @iamsherlockedondoctorwho​ @dickspeightjrs​ @imbiowaresbitch​

@destielle​ @hopefuldreamers-world​ @organicpurplepants​ @dean-you-assbutt-cas-loves-you​ @shut-up-dean​ @sapphirecobalt-1​ @eshaninjer​ @spnobsessed50​ @mishka​ @holygoddessofvictory​​

@jayus-fandom-writer​​ @2musiclover2​​ @rainbowscas @bennedict​ @cassiecasyl​ @jensenacklesruinedmylife​ @can-i-just-stay-in-the-corner​ @chaoticdean​ @destiel-trash-asf​ @tlakhtwritesdestiel​

@bri-winchester​ @50shadesofcockles @trasherasswood​ @spittingpagan @castielstolemyheart @becky-srs @phoenix13 @jiminthestreets-bonesinthesheets @deancasology @top13zepptraxx

@love-neve-dies @good-things-do-happen-dean @tearsofgrace @thedirtytrenchcoat @a-porno-with-the-russian-mafia @on-a-bender @moi-the-bard @one-more-offbeat-anthem @naturallyathief @queen-rowenas

[justanoutlawfic]

angst train: "thanks for nothing"--- red beauty

nearly 200 writing prompts

On AO3/FF

It’s the same routine. Belle fights with Gaston and storms to Ruby’s for tequila shots, Chinese take-out and horror movies. They bitch about him flirting with other women, the way he talks with his mouth open and his incredibly small dick. Ruby will inevitably tell Belle that she can do so much better. Belle counters with a saucy smile and says “You mean like you?”

 Within moments, clothes leave a map to Ruby’s bed where they fuck each other’s brains out.

 And come morning, Ruby will make Belle pancakes, wondering if this is what love is. Falling asleep in someone’s arms, giving little kisses to their jaw and making them breakfast in the morning. She’ll blast Teagan & Sara, shake her butt and use the whisk as a mic. Just as she’s bringing the smiley faced treat back to her room, she hears Belle on the phone. Gaston giving half-hearted apologies and Belle accepting them. She’ll breeze through breakfast, kiss Ruby’s cheek and race out of the apartment to “make up”.

Wash. Rinse. Repeat.

 Ruby tried to tell herself it’d end. It had to. Belle is a smart girl. She has to know that guys like Gaston aren’t going to change. He’s going to cheat again. He’ll smack a waitress’ ass.

 And yet every time, Belle goes back to him. Ruby is left with a half-eaten plate of pancakes and a broken heart.

 She laments on the dilemma to Mary Margaret over some wine after Belle misses yet another girls’ night. Mary Margaret gives her a sympathetic smile and pats her hand.

“Sweetie, have you have ever considered that maybe you’re part of the problem?”

Ruby nearly spits out her drink. “How can you say that?”

“You let her come back to you.” Ruby opens her mouth and Mary Margaret raises a hand. “I did the same thing with Victor, Belle does it with Gaston. We forgive people who hurt us, in hopes that they’ll change.”

Ruby frowns. “But?”

“Victor never stopped cheating. I doubt Gaston will. And Belle…” Mary Margaret sighs. “I don’t think she means it, but she’s not going to leave.”

“You did,” Ruby mutters.

“I did, but it took a year and several people pointing out what I was blind to. It only takes one person to break a pattern.”

 Ruby lets Mary Margaret’s words sink in. She tries to talk to Belle about Gaston, but she’s never around. Another part of the cycle.

 A few weeks later, Ruby is finishing the last touches of her outfit. A pair of silver hoops pair well with the crescent moon necklace hanging dangerously above her cleavage. A red bodycon dress shows off her best features. She’s finally getting out of her funk. Mary Margaret and Ashley have invited her to go dancing with some new friends from work. Between sticky diner plates, studying for business school and thinking about Belle, she’s had no fun. Ruby really needs tonight.

 She’s searching for her favorite black leather jacket when the creaky door to her apartment pushes open. Belle stands there, a bottle of Patrón in hand. She’s also dressed for a night out. Evening blue blouse with a few buttons popped, a black flared miniskirt. Her chestnut brown hair is curled, mascara popping her blue eyes. She’s absolutely gorgeous and looks equally miserable.

 “Gaston stood me up,” Belle complains, kicking off her ridiculous heels. “Went to the Rabbit Hole and of course, there he is with fucking Jacqueline.”

Ruby’s fingers grasp her jacket. “Oh.”

“I need to drink. Where’s that menu?”

 Belle walks over to the kitchen, placing the bottle down and searching through the drawers. Ruby just stares at her, mouth agape. A part of her knows the pattern. She calls Mary Margaret and Ashley to say she won’t make it. Ruby will dig out a copy of Nightmare on Elm Street. By the end of the night, a naked Belle will be in her arms.

 She thinks of what Mary Margaret said. How it only takes one person to break a pattern.

 “I actually have plans,” Ruby finds herself saying. Belle looks up from the takeout menu drawer. “Mary Margaret and Ashley found this club that has a ladies’ night. David and Thomas agreed to look after the kids. They invited me to tag along.”

Belle frowns. “I’m not really in the mood to go out.”

“Well…I am.”

Belle raises an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

“I can’t keep doing this!” Ruby blurts out. She sighs when Belle tilts her head in confusion. “I am sorry that Gaston is an asshole. I am sorry that you think he’s what you deserve. But I deserve more than this too!”

Belle’s mouth drops open. “What are you talking about?”

“This! Our routine! He cheats or lies and you come over here for me to comfort you. I drop everything.”

“Isn’t that what friends do? I did that for you when Peter cheated.”

“Yeah, once. And then I dumped his ass.”

“It’s more complicated than…”

“Don’t,” Ruby holds up a hand, anger radiating through her veins. “I get that you love him. I get that it’s hard. But did you ever stop to consider what this does to me?”

“I’m so confused.”

“Of course you are! Because all you ever think about is yourself!”

 Belle’s eyes widen. The paper menu slips from her finger tips as her lip begins to tremble. Ruby fights to not give in.

 “Thanks for nothing,” Belle mumbles, storming towards the door.

“Don’t run away because I’m finally standing up for myself!” Ruby calls after her. “You’re using me to get back at him and you know that’s not fair!”

Belle whips back around. “If this was such a problem, why did you wait so long to tell me?”

“I don’t know, maybe because I thought it would end. But I realize that it’s up to me to do so.” Ruby pulls her jacket on. “I’m going out with my friends, my real friends. The ones that have been there for me. The ones that don’t use me as a revenge fuck. Now get the hell out of my apartment.”

“Fine!”

 Belle storms out of the apartment, slamming the door shut behind her. A picture next to it shakes then falls to the ground, glass going everywhere. Ruby groans and stomps to the closet, retrieving the broom and dustpan. Once it’s safe, she retrieves the cracked frame and stares at the picture. Belle leaning into her shoulder, laughing at something happening off camera. Ruby smiling down at her with all the love in the world.

 “Fuck that,” she whispers, tossing it onto the nearby island.

 The next morning, Ruby awakes with a pounding head. She let a cute girl buy her a few drinks too many. A lot of last night after she arrived at the club is a blur. Ruby vaguely remembers Ashley practically carrying her out of the club, calling them all an Uber. Mary Margaret must have tucked her into bed, because there’s a couple of aspirin with a cup of water waiting on her side table. She downs them and heads into the kitchen, blinking a few times.

 Belle sits there with a few takeout containers in front of her. Ruby takes a step forward, noticing they’re pancakes. Belle extends a Styrofoam cup and Ruby accepts it, black coffee pouring down her throat. It’s much needed solace after the night before.

 “I can’t cook like you,” Belle mutters.

Ruby plays with the lid of her cup. “Belle, I can’t…”

“I broke up with Gaston.” Ruby raises an eyebrow. “For good.”

“That’s nice and all, but it doesn’t change…”

“I’ve been a world class jerk.” She sighs. “The truth is, I’ve had feelings for you, but I was just scared. I’ve been with Gaston since high school. A part of him felt safe, secure. But you…you were there for me when he wasn’t. And I took that for granted.”

Ruby nods. “What were you scared of?”

“Ruining our friendship. I didn’t realize I already was.”

Ruby bites her lip. “It’s nothing that can’t be repaired.”

“Will you let me try?”

Ruby considers it. “It’s gonna take more than pancakes and a cup of crappy coffee.”

“I know.”

 Ruby settles in the chair beside her, removing the plastic lid. She won’t let this become a routine. Belle has one chance to prove herself, to be the woman Ruby knows she can be.

 And God, Ruby hopes she doesn’t let her down.

[lasting-inkpressions]

I Put A Spell On You (Because You’re Mine) [2/11]

Summary: Denali is in love with her very much straight best friend, but a break up later and one drunken night together changes everything.

Note: Definitely NSFW.

Prefer reading it on AO3?

“Rosie Rosie Rosie.”

Denali chanted her name repeatedly as Rosé continued pumping her fingers into her, her head thrashing against the pillow as she whimpered. She watched Denali unravel beneath her ministrations, marvelling at how she looked even more beautiful when she was consumed in ecstasy. Pushing herself up, her fingers never stopping, she pressed her mouth to Denali’s, groaning when she felt the other woman’s mouth open, allowing her to sweep her tongue in. Rosé curled her fingers and Denali’s hips jerked, head turning and disengaging from Rosé’s lips with a sob.

“So beautiful.”

Rosé sucked a new mark on Denali’s jaw, trailing kisses down her neck as she moaned her name louder.

“Rosie, Rosie…”

Rosé grinned, pressing her face against Denali’s neck.

“Wake up Rosie!”

Rosé’s eyes flew open and she shot up, panting hard.

Fuck, it was just a dream.

And it wasn’t the first time Rosé had dreamed of Denali in that way either. Sighing, she tossed back her covers and got out of bed, rubbing her face in frustration. She left her bedroom and walked over to the kitchen, deciding that some water was what she needed to cool her off.

“Rosie?”

Stopping, Rosé registered Denali sitting cross legged in the middle of the pink fur rug in the living room, with her notebook opened and records with post its stuck on them scattered about on the ground. How on earth had Rosé not noticed her earlier?

“Nali? What are you doing up so late?”

“Just working on some music and choreography ideas. Are you okay? You look a little flushed.”

Rosé swallowed and shrugged as she retrieved a bottle of water from the fridge. “Just had a nightmare, that’s all.” Nightmare was definitely not the right word, but she couldn’t exactly tell her best friend that she had been having vivid dreams of fucking her for the past week now, could she? Walking back out to Denali, she saw her scooting over on the rug and patting the space on her right. Hesitating for a second, Rosé moved over and sat next to her, taking a drink of water. Setting the bottle down, she turned to find Denali staring at her mouth.

“Denali?”

The younger woman blinked and cleared her throat, her cheeks tinged pink for a moment before stuttering. “Yeah, so I’m just brainstorming for my choreography classes. Was thinking of maybe finding some new tracks, or at least less mainstream ones. Have to keep things fresh while educating the people with good music, right?”

Rosé chuckled. “That’s my Nali, always educating the masses.” She looked over the post its stuck on the records, trying to make sense of them when Denali leaned over, reaching for the record on Rosé’s right. Rosé froze, hit by Denali’s scent and struggled not to react to her hair brushing against her bare thigh, assaulted by the images of her latest dream, of Denali writhing beneath her, moaning her name over and over again. Rosé took a deep breath and clenched her fist, forcing herself not to think about it.

“Check out this record I managed to find the other day.” Blinking back to reality, she looked at Denali and then the album that she was holding out. Taking it out of her hands, she flipped it over and scanned the track list as Denali rambled on, then looked back at Denali’s bright face.

Rosé liked moments like these, when Denali was talking about work. She always admired how Denali injected so much life and passion into her dance, and listening to her talk about it was always a breath of fresh air. Denali’s eyes were bright and alive, lips stretched into a big smile and her dimples were out in full force. Her hands were moving in tandem as she spoke, pointing to the different records she had laid around her as she explained her thought process. One of her hands moved to rest on Rosé’s knee and suddenly Rosé was hyper aware of how warm her hand was on her skin. Biting the inside of her cheek and fighting the urge to hold it, Rosé nodded along, until she noticed Denali was starting to yawn. She looked over at the clock and noted that it was close to 3am when she felt a weight on her shoulder. Peering to her left, Denali smiled sleepily at her as she leaned against her. Rosé smiled back, patting her head.

“Looks like it’s time for someone to go to bed.” Shaking her head and whining, Denali burrowed into her shoulder. “Not yet, don’t wanna. Just wanna sit with you for a while.” Smiling fondly at the sleepy Denali, Rosé wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her closer, letting her rest at her side for a while. They sat in silence, Rosé breathing in Denali’s scent and enjoying the feel of having the younger woman against her as she rubbed soothing circles on her waist.

It wasn’t too long before Rosé heard soft little snores and noticed Denali had fallen asleep. Deciding against waking her, Rosé carefully picked Denali up and carried her to her bedroom.

Gently tucking the young woman in, Rosé sat on the bed, watching over Denali for a bit. She looked more innocent in the moonlight, a contrast to her lively self when she was awake, her features soft and peaceful. Rosé reached out, wanting to stroke Denali on the cheek, but stopped herself just an inch away. Retracting her hand and sighing, Rosé instead pulled the blanket up and left Denali’s room for her own, hoping to be able to have a more restful sleep this time.

———————

It was one of those rare days where Denali had some time off where there were no classes that day, and she had decided to take the time to do some house cleaning. It wasn’t that Rosé and her were messy, it was just that sometimes their schedules were so packed that they didn’t have the time to actually tidy up the house. Thankfully, the only class she had that day had been a private one that had been cancelled due to a conflict in her student’s schedule.

After mooching about on her bed in the morning, she had gone through her catalogue of records and set a random one she had to play on the player in the living room, setting the volume to be loud enough to be heard throughout the house, but not too loud to disturb the neighbours. Dressed in nothing but a tie dye crop top and denim shorts, hair pulled into messy bun, Denali whisked around the house, starting with the living room.

When she had first moved in with her original roommate, the living room had been generic, just a typical white washed one with the basic amenities. Once her roommate had moved out, she had slowly personalised it with a beanbag, moved her record player out from her bedroom with a small shelf of her record collection and hung a few of her favourite pictures on the walls. Denali hadn’t really been keen about finding another roommate and had been stalling on that. She had enjoyed having the place to herself, but she knew that she wouldn’t be able to handle paying the rent on her own for long. When Rosé had broken up with her boyfriend and needed a place to stay, Denali was more than happy to have her best friend as her roommate.

When Rosé had moved in, the living room had reflected that. The photos on the walls now included Rosé’s pictures, a pink fur rug was thrown next to the beanbag, a Nintendo Switch set up by the television and her own records were mixed in with Denali’s collection. It was a lot cosier now, not as cold and impersonal as it once was. It wasn’t that Denali’s old roommate had been boring, it was just that they never really got to know each other, so the relationship had been nothing but cordial, a necessity. With Rosé, the apartment seemed to liven up more, with both their personalities touching the whole place.

Denali sat in front of the shelf of records and started sorting through the ones that were strewn about on the floor. She honestly loved the fact that both their things had mixed so well together, their aesthetics and tastes similar. Even their interests were pretty similar. There were days where the both of them would just play a random record and dance about just because they could, or they would push the furniture to the sides to do some yoga, which would inevitably end up with Rosé grunting in frustration for the harder poses and Denali laughing at the faces that she’d make.

Sliding the last record into the shelf, she moved on to tidy up the rest of the room, humming as her mind began to wander back to her best friend.

Lately, Denali had noticed that Rosé was acting a little off, and she couldn’t exactly pinpoint when the change had started. It wasn’t glaringly obvious, but somehow she seemed to be treating Denali differently.

It had been subtle at first, just catching Rosé looking at her every now and then, and every time she caught her, Rosé would just turn away and carry on with whatever she was doing. And then there were the increased number of casual touches, fingers grazing against hers when taking something from her, brushing against her side if she happened to walk past her, sitting closer to her on the couch, their hands bumping together when they walked side by side. If she hadn’t known any better, Denali would think that this was in reaction to the night they slept together, but it seemed impossible since it had been more than a month ago and the slight change in her behaviour was more recent. Besides, Rosé seemed to have forgotten all about it and had never brought up their time together.

Then again, neither did Denali. As much as she had treasured that night, she had buried it deep inside her, not wanting to do anything to jeopardise their friendship.

Just like how she would never let Rosé know her true feelings for her.

Hours later, Denali had finished tidying up their shared quarters and was finishing up with the kitchen. She was getting tired and her skin felt grimy, but she felt accomplished with how much tidier the house was. She’d even tossed the dirty laundry into the wash, and the dryer was now humming happily with the load of clean clothes, the smell of fresh laundry detergent permeating through the house.

Denali was putting the dried dishes away in the kitchen shelves when she heard the sound of the front door opening.

“Honey, I’m home!” Rosé playful voice echoed in the house and Denali laughed. “Welcome home Rosie! Notice anything different about the house?”

She grabbed the last cup to put it away and was eyeing the last bit of space on a higher shelf when she heard rustling and footsteps coming up behind her. The footsteps stopped just as she tiptoed and stretched upwards to push the cup into place when she felt a hand on the bare skin of her back to support her and another hand guiding her own to slide it in. Smiling, she turned around to thank Rosé but the words died on her lips when she was met with smouldering eyes. Denali inhaled sharply as Rosé took a step forward and crowded into her space. She noticed Rosé’s eyes raking her figure, lingering at the swell of her chest before settling on her slightly parted mouth. Licking her lips and swallowing the lump in her throat, Denali whispered.

“Rosé?”

As if snapping out of a trance, Rosé took a step back and cleared her throat, then smiled at Denali. “Someone did a bit of house cleaning I see.”

Blinking at the lightning quick change, Denali nodded slowly. “Yeah, I even did the laundry.” Nodding back at her, Rosé seemed to think for a second before dropping a quick peck on Denali’s cheek. “Thank you, Nali. What do you want to order in for dinner? I’ll pay since you cleaned.”

Stunned, Denali watched Rosé as she left the kitchen, her mind wandering back to how oddly Rosé had been acting lately. Another thing to add to the growing list in her head.

“You might want to take a shower first though, you don’t smell as clean as this house right now.”

Sputtering at Rosé’s comment, Denali abandoned her train of thought as she chased after Rosé with an indignant, “Hey!”.

———————

Rosé didn’t know why, but lately she felt as if her control was slipping and she was beginning to act more impulsively than usual when she was around Denali. Everything the younger woman did seemed to taunt her.

When Rosé had gotten home the other day and entered the kitchen, her breath had been knocked out of her when she saw Denali tip toeing and stretching up to put a cup away on the kitchen shelf, the smooth curve of her back exposed. The next thing Rosé knew, she had her hand cradling the small of Denali’s back and her hand covered hers, supporting her. When Denali had turned around, Rosé couldn’t stop herself from getting closer, desire clouding her mind as she took in Denali’s form. The crop top she wore revealed a toned midriff, the swell of her chest barely covered and as her eyes travelled up, her heart stuttered at the pink that dusted Denali’s cheeks, slightly parted lips and loose dark strands falling around her face.

If Denali hadn’t said her name, Rosé didn’t know what she would have done then and there.

Now here she was, knocking back a few drinks at the bar with some of her friends. She knew alcohol had been the root of her problems the last time, but Rosé needed something to distract her from the object of her desires dancing in the middle of the club. Denali was her best friend, she shouldn’t be lusting after her the way that she was right now. It was just so wrong on so many levels.

Ordering another vodka shot, she knocked it back and turned back to the dance floor, her eyes automatically drawn to Denali. She gripped the shot glass in her hand as the colourful neon lights lit her up, her moves fluid as she danced, leaving many staring at her in awe, Rosé included.

“Looks like someone’s got it bad for her bestie.”

She turned to see Gottmik watching her, eyebrow raised.

“What?”

“I meant you. You haven’t stopped staring at Denali since she went off to dance with the others.” Scoffing at the shorter boy, Rosé discarded the shot glass on the counter, resisting the urge to order another.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Gottmik shrugged at her reply. “I wouldn’t blame you, the girl’s gorge. I’d go for her if she wasn’t clearly interested in only women.”

Rosé snorted and turned back to look at Denali just as she spun around. The younger woman spotted Rosé looking her way and grinned, waving her over. A part of her wanted to stay away, but the need to be close to Denali outweighed that and soon she found herself going towards the other girl, leaving Gottmik with the others.

The music thumped rhythmically around her as she joined Denali on the dance floor, Olivia and Joey not too far away.

“Hey angel.”

“Hey Rosie.”

Denali took hold of Rosé’s hand and playfully tugged her closer, causing Rosé to laugh and spin her around by the hand in return. The two of them danced to the music, bodies moving in sync. There were times when others tried to intrude, but the two would simply brush them off, not wanting anyone else to join in their small happy bubble. It wasn’t long before the alcohol in Rosé’s system started to take effect, and she began to regret her decision to have those last few shots. As the night wore on, more people started joining the dance floor, forcing her and Denali to dance even closer.

The fog in her mind started to increase the closer she got to Denali, and soon she found herself more and more enamoured by the woman practically dancing in her arms, her hold on Denali slowly tightening, pulling her closer than necessary. They younger woman hadn’t registered their intimate proximity and instead was happy to carry on dancing with her, smiling up at her with wide innocent brown eyes, and Rosé felt the control she held onto so tightly slipping even more. Before she could do anything she would regret, she quickly excused herself and left Denali on the dance floor.

Pushing her way out of the crush of bodies, she exited the club and made her way to the side, her mind racing with too many thoughts. She leaned against the brick wall, breathing heavily as she tried to reign it in.

What was wrong with her? Just one night together with Denali, and suddenly she couldn’t stop thinking about her. It had gone way past unhealthy and bordered on obsession, and she didn’t know what to do with herself. She’d lost count of the number of times she had wanted to drag Denali to her, to kiss and touch her all over, to completely devour her whole until there was nothing left. Denali didn’t even need to do anything, and Rosé was panting after her. She couldn’t understand herself. How could she go from being in a relationship, with a boyfriend, to wanting her best friend?

Her very much female best friend?

“Rosie?”

Rosé shut her eyes at her familiar voice. Denali was the last person she wanted to see right now.

“Are you okay? You don’t look so good.”

She felt a gentle hand on her cheek, and she opened her eyes to see Denali staring back at her in concern, feeling herself drown in warm brown eyes.

Beautiful warm brown eyes.

Denali came closer, pressing her forehead against Rosé’s, and she had to bite back a groan. Denali was too close, and Rosé’s tenuous control was fraying.

“You feel a little warm, do you want to go back?” Not trusting herself to speak, Rosé nodded in response and to her relief, Denali pulled back. The relief was short lived though as Denali took her hand and pulled her to the road to catch a cab.

Suddenly all her focus was on that one point of contact, and Rosé couldn’t help but notice how well their hands fit together. Years of being friends and casual hand holding, and only now did she notice how soft and warm her hands were, almost petite against her own strong ones. She was pulled out of her daze as Denali tugged her into the backseat of a cab she had managed to hail. Denali rattled off their address to the driver then pulled Rosé to her side, resting the older woman against her shoulder and hummed to her, never once letting go of her hand and completely oblivious to the effect she had on Rosé. In the small cab with no where to run, Rosé was getting more and more intoxicated with Denali’s scent and being, the soft hum of her voice, the warm soothing touch of her hand, the press of their thighs together.

It was too much.

The fog in her mind got heavier and she lost track of the time between getting into the cab and reaching home, because the next thing she knew was Denali was dropping her off on her bed, and was moving to leave when she grabbed hold of her hand, not wanting to let go.

“Rosie?”

Denali looked down at Rosé in confusion, and gasped when Rosé pressed a kiss to the back of her hand, slowly pulling the younger woman closer to her as she kissed her way up her fore arm, stopping to nip the skin at the crook of her elbow, before wrapping her arms around her waist, pressing more kisses round her middle and pulling Denali down onto her lap.

Burning hazel eyes met innocent brown ones before Rosé hungrily pulled Denali into a blazing kiss.

———————

There was too much. Too much going on at once. Clothes had been hurriedly pulled off of her, her body pressed down onto the bed as Rosé touched Denali everywhere with her hands and lips.

This wasn’t what she was expecting. She hadn’t expected this again.

At first Denali had tried to protest, smelling the faint scent of alcohol on Rosé’s breath, but her words were simply swallowed by Rosé’s lips. She didn’t fight very hard, her own feelings getting the best of her, the feeling of the woman she had been so in love with all these years finally in her arms. She had tried to forget that fateful night all those weeks ago, and had been mostly successful, but with each kiss and caress from Rosé, she started to unravel. She found herself giving in, letting Rosé do whatever she wanted to her body, until Denali was a shaking mess. She had tried to return the favour, but each attempt was met with more ardent kisses and the feeling of being so utterly consumed.

She felt like she was burning with all the attention Rosé was giving her, all the constant touches and teasing leaving her feeling absolutely wrecked, Rosé seeming to derive her own pleasure from pleasuring her.

Denali panted hard, feeling as if her third orgasm had been yanked out of her. She felt absolutely boneless, her bare skin damp with sweat from the exertion. Barely seconds later, she felt fingers slide back into her and she gasped, the feeling of curling fingers too much on her sensitive walls. She weakly tried to push the hand away but stopped when she felt a strong hand push down against her left hip. Denali looked down and whimpered when her glassy brown eyes met burning hazel ones. Shaking her head as tears started forming, she tried to push the hand away again. “Too much.” She gasped. “Rosie please, it’s too much.”

Denali tossed her head back with a ragged moan when the pressure increased, Rosé’s fingers relentless.

“Just one more, baby. Please? For me?”

It was just getting too much, the overstimulation, the tangy sweet scent of sweat and vanilla, Rosé’s very being enveloping her completely. Denali felt like she was going to combust, her senses overloaded. She wanted to say no, wanted to stop to recover, but with how Rosé was looking at her, worshipping her body, her own feelings of longing for the older woman overriding all reason, she gave in, nodding weakly in consent. Rosé smirked, the hand that had been holding down Denali’s hip wandered down to join her other hand as she pressed her thumb against the sensitive bundle of nerves, before pulling her fingers out, spreading Denali open with both hands and pushing her tongue in where her fingers had just been.

Denali nearly screamed, having to bite at the back of her hand to muffle it as she felt Rosé lapping at her walls, fingers teasing the bundle of nerves and sliding in to stimulate her even more.

It was too much. Too much all at once, as she felt Rosé continue to absolutely wreck her, alternating between her fingers and her tongue, face buried between her legs. Denali buried her fingers in Rosé’s pink hair, tugging her up and she heard her groan, pulling away, face shiny with her slick, pupils completely blown. She swooped back down and kissed Denali deeply, one hand palming her left breast while her other hand never left her core. It wasn’t long before she felt her walls clench around Rosé’s fingers, hips jerking as Denali came undone with a sharp cry. Rosé let her ride it out, continuing to stroke her through the aftershocks until Denali whimpered at her to stop, only then did she pull her fingers away, massaging her sides as she cooed at how good Denali had been.

They younger woman’s eyes were glazed over, her breathing shallow as she felt herself slowly recovering from her back to back releases. She faintly registered Rosé leaving the room and returning moments later, and felt herself being wiped down with a damp cloth. Finally coming down from her high just as Rosé was done cleaning the sweat and slick off of her, Rosé carefully manoeuvred Denali into her arms, spooning her. She wrapped the younger woman in her arms, pressing soft kisses to the back of her neck and murmured quiet words of praise as she traced mindless patterns on her hipbone, letting Denali finally rest and drift off to sleep.

———————

So... That happened. It's a lot. A lot more than I expected.

Now let me go hide my face in the sand as I question my life decisions.

[morganaspendragonss]

Bad Things Happen Bingo Masterpost!

And that's a wrap on my @badthingshappenbingo card! Thanks to anybody and everybody who requested a square - this has been so, so fun! I've had this card for years and have been actively working on it for a year and a half, so it's incredible to have finally finished it 🥰

Prompts and Fills listed below the cut:

Used in Sacrifice/Ritual - Filled

you would be the one to rescue me | BBC Atlantis | Jason x Pythagoras

When Jason wakes, Pythagoras is gone.

This in itself is not so strange. What is strange, however, is that his cloak has been left behind despite there being a significant chill in the air. And when Hercules begins to wake, and there is still no sign, Jason knows.

Something's wrong.

Rage Against the Reflection - Filled

out, damned spot | 9-1-1: Lone Star | TK x Carlos

TK wakes up gasping, choking on air. The sheets are suffocating him and, when he tries to free himself, they only seem to get tighter. The hands reaching out for him, trying to calm him, are the final straw; TK throws himself from bed and sprints to the bathroom, slamming and locking the door behind him as he collapses against the sink.

On some level, he is aware that the hands were Carlos’s, that the sheets were theirs, that his hands are clean, and that the dream was just a dream.

But they weren't always that way.

Falling Through the Ice - Filled

ice in my veins | 9-1-1: Lone Star | TK x Carlos

Carlos only turns away for a second, he swears. Unfortunately, a second is clearly ample time for his boyfriend to get into trouble because when Carlos turns back around, TK is no longer standing where he left him.

Instead, there’s a sizable hole in the ice.

Flashbacks - Filled

start again from the beginning | 9-1-1: Lone Star | TK & Owen

Owen trusts his son. He’s watched TK fight his addiction and stay sober for the last six years, and he has faith that he can handle himself.

But when TK doesn’t show up for work the night after proposing to Alex, Owen knows that something is wrong. After all, they've been here before.

Branding - Filled

setting fire to our insides for fun | Supernatural | Meg x Cas

Cas had been prepared to find demons. Frankly, he would have been concerned if he didn’t find demons, given that that was his mission here. What he hadn’t been prepared for, however, was to find two demons torturing another, pressing the hot end of a branding iron into her forearm.

He killed the two torturers with practised ease, barely wasting a moment before they were both on the dirty, wooden floor, eyes burned out their sockets. Only then did he allow his surprise to catch up to him, breathing heavily as his gaze settled on someone he hadn’t seen in a long time.

Meg.

Memory Loss - Filled

focal point | 9-1-1: Lone Star | TK x Carlos

Waking up in the hospital is becoming all too familiar. Being the one in the bed is less so, but Carlos has had his fair share of hospital trips. He knows the drill.

As soon as he sees him awake, TK breaks out in harsh sobs. "Carlos," he breathes. "I... I thought I'd lost you."

Caught in an Explosion - Filled

can we skip past near death cliches? | 9-1-1: Lone Star | TK x Carlos

It’s the kind of call every first responder dreads. A bomb threat in an apartment block, civilian’s lives on the line, the whole situation a hair’s breadth away from disaster. And Carlos is right in the middle of it.

tw: explosions, bombs

Forced to Kneel/Bow - Filled

in case you don’t live forever (let me tell you now) | 9-1-1: Lone Star | TK x Carlos

His teammates were still sitting in the communal area when TK entered, eyes glued to the tv screen. Paul was the first to notice him, and TK’s concern only grew as he got everyone else’s attention, their worried gazes falling on him one by one.

“There’s a hostage situation at that big, fancy hotel across town," Marjan explained. "Apparently it’s pretty serious, they’ve had to send police in, and, um, well…”

Marjan paused, and TK felt dread wash through him, knowing what her next words would be.

“Carlos is there, TK. He’s gone in.”

tw: references to gun violence

Be Careful What You Wish For - Filled

can you beat back the night? | The Witcher | Geralt x Jaskier

He misses the bard. Geralt won’t admit it, not even to Roach, but he misses him. After months—years—of Jaskier’s constant chatter and the sound of his lute, the silence, once valued above all else, is too much.

It’s been months since the dragon, since Geralt lost both Yennefer and Jaskier in one fell swoop. He’s cursed himself many times over for the words he said—to both of them—and cursed himself more for the mistakes he made to get in this position in the first place.

*

this is the lot of witchers, to be alone.

Blood From the Mouth - Filled

I Got You | 9-1-1: Lone Star | TK x Carlos, TK & 126 Crew

“I’m just sayin’,” Judd says, waving his arms around. “Somebody’s gonna get themselves killed in there one of these days. I had to come out here three times last year because of some idiots who think they know better than the ‘Keep Out’ signs.”

The team are called to an abandoned house where some kids are trapped. Everything is going smoothly, which, naturally, means that it won't be that way for much longer.

Trapped in a Burning Building - Filled

a little unsteady | 9-1-1: Lone Star | TK x Carlos

9-1-1, What's your emergency?

'Please, help! My house is on fire and my husband’s inside!'

or

t.k. sometimes wonders if the universe is out to get him

Worked Themselves to Exhaustion - Filled

In Your Arms | 9-1-1: Lone Star | TK x Carlos, Michelle & TK

T.K. and Carlos agreed when they started dating to check-in on each other that they were both okay. Reassurance that nothing bad had happened. So, when Carlos hasn't replied hours after his shift is supposed to have finished, T.K.'s definitely beginning to panic. 

Locked in a Cage - Filled

running out of time | Shadowhunter Chronicles | Kit x Ty

When (if) they got out of here, Kit wanted the record to unequivocally state that this wasn’t his fault. Not that it was Ty's either, but it certainly wasn't Kit's.

or

kit and ty's first hunt together after three years goes wrong and they wind up trapped in a cage with no way out. naturally, this leads to a heartfelt conversation.

Demonic/Ghostly Possession - Filled

Haunting | 9-1-1: Lone Star | TK x Carlos, TK & Owen

T.K. is five when he first sees a ghost, though, of course, he doesn’t know that it’s a ghost. His name is Joey, and he lives in the playground, which T.K. thought was a little strange, but he doesn’t want to ask. Dad says it’s rude to ask questions like that to someone he’s just met.

Fingore - Filled

ease my mind | 911: Lone Star | TK x Carlos

Briefly, Carlos considers calling TK and telling him about the accident. But… He only broke two of his fingers and it barely even classifies as a minor injury in his book, so there’s really no reason to bother his fiancé while he’s still on shift himself. He pockets his phone then looks around to figure out where the exit is.

Only, an all-too familiar laugh distracts him from his task, drawing his attention to the nurses station.

Where TK is standing, smiling as a nurse swats at him for stealing one of their lollipops.

Carlos is, beyond doubt, fucked.

Verbal Abuse - Filled

this is a song about somebody else | 9-1-1: Lone Star | TK x Carlos, TK & Marjan

TK doesn't notice the 126's latest visitor until it's too late. He freezes as Alex smiles at him, knocked off balance by this sudden intrusion of his old life into his new one.

or

alex vists tk at the 126. luckily, tk has his family to help him through it.

tw: abusive language

Dying in Their Arms - Filled

can you hear me screaming (please don’t leave me) | 9-1-1: Lone Star | TK x Carlos

As a cop, Carlos has to deal with all kinds of cases, and not all of them end well. But never in his life did he imagine that he'd have to respond to an incident involving his own boyfriend.

tw: major character death

Blindfolded - Filled

find you here inside the dark | Doctor Who | Thirteen x Yaz

Yaz has walked this room too many times to count now; she’s traced her fingertips over the walls, searching for any cracks or crevices to indicate where there might be a door.

If the Doctor were here, she’d have her sonic out by now, spitting out words, only half of which Yaz could understand. She’d find a way out in no time. Or, if not, at least she’d be here. Talking a mile a minute, probably annoying the hell out of their captors. Yaz can almost hear her now—

Wait.

She can hear her now.

Water Torture - Filled

soggy clothes and breezeblocks | 9-1-1: Lone Star | TK x Carlos

Carlos wakes up slowly. He cracks his eyes open, wincing at the pounding in his head. He lifts his hand to massage the pain away, only to discover that his hand won't move, the cool metal of handcuffs biting viciously into his wrist.

After an undercover mission goes wrong, Carlos is forced to fight for his life. And to make matters worse, his kidnappers are making sure that T.K. is watching the entire thing.

tw: torture

Fighting from the Inside - Filled

and curse the gods | BBC Atlantis | Jason & Medusa

Jason knows what it is to be cursed.

Slammed into a Wall - Filled

mind over matter (matter over mind) | 9-1-1: Lone Star | TK x Carlos, TK & Owen

After a night out goes wrong, TK and Carlos are left to deal with the consequences.

tw: homophobia, hate crimes, hiding an injury

Suicide Attempt - Filled

be done with this now | 9-1-1: Lone Star | TK x Carlos

Once upon a time, Carlos had thought that watching as his almost-boyfriend was whisked off in an ambulance, bullet wound in his chest, would be the worst moment of his life. Then TK had been kidnapped, and Carlos had spent hours not knowing where he was, if he was alive or dead, and he thought - this is it. Nothing can top this.

But, having to perform CPR on his husband, having to hold him as he slipped away in his arms?

That was worse than even his nightmares.

tw: suicide attempt, suicidal thoughts, depression, drug abuse, overdosing

Bleeding Through the Bandages - Filled

pull you in to feel your heartbeat | 9-1-1: Lone Star | TK x Carlos

The call comes at the tail end of Carlos’s shift, and he instantly hates whichever idiot decided to ruin his night by mugging someone.

What he's not expecting is to find his boyfriend on the ground, bleeding out from a stab wound.

Arm in a Sling - Filled

have you been involved in an accident at work? | 9-1-1: Lone Star | TK & 126 Crew, TK x Carlos

T.K. was on his way to the hospital. Again.

At least this time he could say with absolute certainty that it 100% wasn't his fault.

Self-Harm - Filled

but god i wanna feel again | 9-1-1: Lone Star | TK x Carlos

Carlos blames himself for not noticing. It's not like he had much choice in the matter; he hasn't seen T.K. all week, and his texts have been going unanswered, but he can't help but feel like it's partly his fault.

If only T.K. would actually talk about himself, instead of keeping it all in.

tw: self-harm

[nayutai]

Bad Boy Bakery

↠ Pairing Yeosang x Female OC

↠ Genre fluffy dirty angst

↠ Word Count 11.806

↠ Warnings infidelity (kinda sorta), mutual pining, unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), foul language, crude jokes, fingering, tattooed yeosang, mentions of criminal activity

↠ Summary Yeosang has a storied past and most of it is documented at the local police station. That’s the past though. These days he’s too busy running a semi-successful bakery with his best friends. After securing an order for the engagement party of well-known socialite Ivy Maxwell, he thinks his business might finally be taking off. He may have bitten off more than he could chew though.

It’s decided. Yeosang is going back to jail. Why he thought hiring the seven other misfits he used to run with to work in his bakery was a good idea he’ll never know. Bad Boy Bakery was supposed to be his way to get his life back on the right track and all these heathens do is test him every single day. He does a quick mental calculation of how much money is stashed around his house and he’s positive he’s got enough to post bail for a simple assault charge, but then again they might try to make an example of him considering his impressive arrest record. With the way he’s being tested at this moment though, he’s willing to spend every penny if it means he gets to beat Mingi into oblivion.

“Mingi, I swear to God if you fuck up another batch of egg whites I’m going to shove that whisk in your ear and beat your brains.” He glares at the clumsy giant vigorously whisking a bowl full of egg whites that already look like they’re begging for mercy. They have to have a full dessert spread ready for an engagement party that’s taking place in less than six hours and Mingi has ruined more eggs than Yeosang is even comfortable counting.

“Man, shut up. I did three years upstate. My arms are too damn strong for this which is exactly why I told your dumb ass to do it.” Everybody groans out loud at having to hear that exact phrase for what has to be the millionth time.

“That was over a year ago and you haven’t lifted anything heavier than a bag of flour ever since. Give it a rest.” Wooyoung garners a round of hearty laughter at his dig, looking quite pleased with himself at successfully bashing his friend.

“I make up for it by jacking off five times a day instead of four now so my point still stands.”

“I hope you wash your hands just as much.” The group of tattooed bakers loudly express their disgust when Mingi gives them nothing but a devious grin in response. Mingi, on the other hand, is phased by neither his friends’ disgust not Yeosang’s bristling anger as he dumps his third attempt at the egg whites into the garbage. So much for third time’s the charm.

Yep, Yeosang is going back to jail. 

Ivy is resigned as she carefully sweeps her brush across both of her cheekbones. The glittery gold of the highlight powder left in its wake perfectly complements the rich sepia tone of her skin. She’s just as precise in the application of her lipstick. Slowly, but surely, painting her lips a deep purple. She sighs as she gives herself a final once over in her vanity mirror. The inky black curls that normally adorn her head like a crown have been forced into straightened submission indicative of her mother’s urge to impress the crowd of people that Ivy can already hear beginning to gather downstairs. Her left hands feels uncomfortably heavy as it has ever since this nightmare first began.

As if sensing her procrastination, Ivy’s mother Yvette comes striding into her daughter’s bedroom. It’s easy to tell how much she’s enjoying playing her mother of the bride role. She hasn’t stopped smiling since Ivy’s engagement to her long-time “boyfriend” was officially announced last month. Needless to say, she’s the only one finding any joy in this situation.

“Ivy, sweetie, hurry up and come downstairs. Everyone is waiting to see you.”

“Yeah, right.” Ivy scoffs in response. “They just want to see this.” Yvette frowns at the way Ivy glares in disdain at the stunning ring adorning her finger.

“Ivy Elaine Peters, you better get it to together right now. Keeping this family business afloat requires sacrifice and its your turn now stop moping and get your narrow ass downstairs.” Her mother disappears back out the door before Ivy can get in a word of her own. Not that it would have mattered. Her fate has been sealed for the past twenty four years.

She slips her feet into the black patent leather pumps still sitting pretty in the box on her canopy bed. The red soled beauties are sure to provide more status than comfort, but such is life. Ivy gives herself one final pep talk, smoothing out the imaginary wrinkles in her slip dress. She looks more like a fashionable mourner than a blushing bride but this is her silent protest. She’ll make her damn sacrifice but she’ll dig her heels in wherever she can.

Ivy quickly spots her fiancee Seokjin cracking jokes with a few of her cousins near the front door. He beams at her when he catches her eye across the room, breaking away to come greet her. Not for the first time, Ivy wonders why she couldn’t just fall in love with him to make this whole process easier. Their families have known each other longer than they’ve both been alive so they grew up as best friends. Plus, Seokjin is genuinely a great guy. He’s charismatic, kind, and attractive to the point of unfairness. She has no doubt that he’d make a fantastic husband for someone. She just wishes that she wasn’t that someone. The only positive is that Seokjin feels the exact same way. He loves Ivy to pieces in the most platonic way possible. She’s quite possibly the last person he would ever consider marrying, but business is business and this is a merger that must be made.

“You look absolutely stunning, Vee.” She smiles gratefully at his compliment as he bends slightly to kiss her on the cheek. A camera flashes somewhere off to her right so she makes sure to play her happiness up for the photographer. With the combined notoriety of their families, any pictures taken tonight are sure to be all over the local and regional news outlets by morning.

“I could say the same about you, Jinnie.” The tips of his ears turn red as they always do whenever anyone compliments him. Ivy giggles playfully when he ducks the hand reaching up to tweak on of them like she always does, choosing instead to square up like he’s ready for a fight. Oh, Jin, ever the entertainer. The numerous peals of laughter that erupt around the couple as they take turns jabbing at each other like children tells her that their antics are paying off.

The two imposters spend the night putting on one hell of a show. Anyone would be hard pressed to find someone that didn’t think they’re madly in love with one another. Their parents couldn’t be more ecstatic about this outcome if they tried. 

Everyone is seated at the lavishly decorated tables set up in the backyard as an army of waiters replaces empty entree plates with various cakes and tarts that look almost too delectable to eat. The cheesecake placed in front of Ivy looks nearly too beautiful to eat. Topped with fresh berries and drizzled in what smells like some sort of hazelnut sauce. She wishes she hadn’t left her cellphone upstairs so that she could take a quick picture of it for her instagram. When she finally gets over her reluctance, she take a small bite. A borderline pornographic moan escapes her lips, catching Jin way off guard.

“What the hell wa-” Ivy cuts him off by shoving a forkful of the cheesecake into his open mouth. He groans in pleased delight, attempting to go in with his own fork for another bite, but she quickly slaps his hand away.

“Let me taste yours. Bite for a bite.” She pretends not to notice him sneaking another bite of her cheesecake while she tastes the chocolate tart in front of him. A hint of red chili lends a kick that perfectly rounds out the sweetness of the chocolate and the fresh whipped cream the dessert is topped in.

“I don’t know what bakery they used but we need to get them to do the cake for the wedding.” Jin declares as he practically inhales the chocolate tart. He signals the waiter to bring them two more for them to try while Ivy hums in agreement at his side. She makes a mental note to ask her mother who was hired to do the desserts tomorrow as she happily digs into the coconut cream cake being set in front of her.

Yeosang stares in awe at the payment he’s just received for the engagement party they’d done three days ago. His bakery has been faring better than most businesses do in their first year but the deposit currently pending with the bank is going to go a long way in making sure it stays that way. They had even sent two grand more than the $1,800 that the contract had stipulated. Yeosang had called immediately to make sure it wasn’t an accounting error because the last thing he wants is to be accused of stealing, but he’d been informed by the woman who had arranged the deal that her employers had been so satisfied with the food they wanted to “tip” him. Rich people are different.

He leaves his small office to clean up a little while it’s slow. He had let everyone else go early since there were no big orders to work on and Tuesdays are notorious dead zones. The bell above the door tinkles lightly as he cleans some wayward chocolate curls out of one of the display cases, cursing to himself because he’d told Seonghwa that he put too many but of course no one listens to him. Doesn’t matter that he signs those lazy bastards’ pay checks every week.

“Hello, how can I help you?” The young woman before him fidgets with the tie on her wrap dress inadvertently drawing Yesoang’s gaze to the womanly curves she possesses. The emerald green of the fabric highlights the warm undertones of her skin in a way that should definitely be illegal.

“My mother’s assistant told me that you did the desserts for my engagement party last night.” Yeosang curses mentally as he finally takes notice of the skating rink sitting on her left ring finger. He misses most of what she says next but tunes back in just in time to hear her ask if he’s available to do her wedding cake as well.

“What’s the date?” He questions, all business now that more money is on the table.

“September 9th. It’s going to be at the old vineyard across town.” 

Yeosang nods in acknowledgment. He pencils her in and schedules a day in two weeks for her to come back with her fiancee to do a tasting and make final selections for the other desserts they’d like to have. Ivy is turning to leave when she catches sight of a full-sized version of the cheesecake she’d fallen in love with at the party.

“How much is that cheesecake?” 

Yeosang follows her outstretched index finger to the hazelnut berry cheesecake that he’d come up with. It had taken him ages to perfect but hasn’t really taken off like he thought it would. Nevertheless, he makes sure to put one in the display case every day and he’s glad that he did.

“It’s $6 per slice. Did you want one?”

“How much for the whole thing?” Yeosang notices that she has yet to take her eyes off of the dessert.

“I’ll do $35 for you, beautiful.” For a second, he thinks that he may have overstepped his boundaries but she simply reaches into her bra to pull out a flashy, black card. The credit limit on that thing would probably pay off the loan on his storefront and then some. 

He tries not to focus on how warm it is when she places it into his outstretched hand. He could’ve sworn that she intentionally let her fingers graze his own in a less than professional way. Yeosang shakes the thought away as that can only lead to trouble. He packs her cheesecake up while she signs the credit card receipt.

“Have a great day,” Yeosang pauses to look at the signature line of the receipt. “…Ivy.”

“Right back at you.” She winks at him playfully and sashays outside to her car. Yeosang’s eyes are trained on her until she’s seated in her seated in the black Audi he’s just now noticing was parked across the street.

Ivy calls Jin the second she steers her car back onto the road, waiting patiently for him to answer. She’s practically vibrating from the few minutes she’d spent with…fuck she’d forgotten to get his name but there is plenty of time for that. One thing she’s sure she’ll never forget is how hot he is. Ivy would’ve never guessed that she’d be attracted to someone with quite so many tattoos but on him they had looked like priceless works of art worthy of being placed in the Louvre.

“Hey, Vee, what’s up?”

“Two things. One, the bakery that did the desserts for the engagement party agreed to do the wedding.” Ivy curses at a slow driver that cuts her off at an intersection, losing her train of thought for a second.

“And the second thing?” Jin presses. 

“Oh, I’m going to fuck the owner.” A thrill shoots through as she imagines those tattooed hands roaming every inch of her skin. She shifts uncomfortably in her seat as her body reacts to her impure thoughts. 

“Absolutely love that for you. What’s his name?” Of course he asks her the one question that she doesn’t know the answer to. She rolls her eyes skyward as Jin starts talking shit when he realizes that she didn’t ask her new crush his name.

“I hate you.” She pouts as she turns onto her street. “We have a tasting scheduled for the 17th so I’ll ask him then. I’m almost home so I’ll text you later.”

“Smell ya later.” Oh what she’d give to flip him off right now. 

The smile on her face when Ivy walks inside her parents’ house is genuine despite the fact that she’s spent all day doing wedding preparations which normally leaves her in a foul mood. Her high spirits don’t go unnoticed by her mother who is in the backyard pruning her orchids.

“What’s got you so happy?”

“The bakery that did the desserts for the engagement party agreed to do the wedding too. Also,” Ivy lifts the box holding God’s favorite cheesecake in the air. “he gave me a deal on the cheesecake that we liked.”

“Are you serious? He said that he was booked up the entire week of your wedding.” Ivy is a bit taken aback as he had specifically told her that he would be available, but she shrugs it off.

“Maybe he had a cancellation. Do want some cheesecake? This is your only offer because I fully plan to eat the whole thing right now.” Her mother tosses her pruning shears back into the box she keeps them in and follows Ivy into the kitchen where they make quick work of the heavenly dessert.

“Yeosang you fucking dumbass. How are we supposed to do a wedding and an anniversary party in the same damn day? Explain it to me.” Yeosang almost flinches when Yunho yells at him. He can’t think of a time the man has ever raised his voice before now and he’s known him since they were three. Not one to accept disrespect, Yeosang would normally react with anger of his own but even he has to admit that thinking with his dick has put them all in a bind. A socialite wedding and an anniversary party with a guest list longer than his body on the same day is going to take a miracle to pull off. 

“Listen these rich people gave us two grand more than they were supposed to as a fucking tip. If they had asked me to get ass naked and let people eat pineapple rings off my dick I would’ve said yes.”

“She had big tits didn’t she?” Jongho typically stays out of their petty arguments but he knows bullshit when he hears it.

“Yes, but,” The room erupts into a cacophony of groans as they all simultaneously throw the closest object at hand Yeosang’s hand. Luckily for him he’s always been quick on his feet. “What’s done is done you fuckwads so get over it and start mixing. We still have orders to fill.”

All eight of them are covered in flour from their frantic baking when they hear the bell jingling up front. Hongjoong happens to be the only one able to immediately stop what he’s doing so he washes his hands and goes to attend to the customer. Yeosang nearly falls backwards off of his stool when he hears the voice of the woman that had put them in such a bind. Wooyoung and San exchange curious glances before they wipes their hands on the front of their aprons and head up front as well. Yeosang feels like his stomach is going to fall out of his ass as one by one they all abandon their posts. 

“Satan, why are you doing this to me?”

There’s no reason for him to stay in the back like a coward so he follows suit, wiping his hands and going to the front counter as well. They’re all squished together behind the counter trying to get as close to her as possible. Yeosang shoulders his way between Jongho and Seonghwa and he finally understands why they all look like lovestruck school boys. He finds himself looking just as dopey as his friends when she turns that megawatt smile on him. She’s dressed a lot more casually today in a pair of jeans that had to have been painted on and a plain white baby tee. The little jewel glittering in her belly button looks like its winking at him and he has the overwhelming urge to flick it with his tongue. 

“Another cheesecake?” He nods his head towards the box cradled in her hands. She looks sheepish at being caught out. Yeosang thinks it’s cute.

“In my defense, it’s tasty as hell.”

“Just make sure you tell everyone where you got it.” He winks at her playfully which was an incredibly bad idea. She sinks her teeth into her plump lower lip and he knows immediately that despite the massive rock on her finger he would still make a move on her. Time to leave before he does something stupid.

“Alright you lazy sacks of shit, back to work.” They protest just as he’d expected but he pushes them all back towards the kitchen, rolling his eyes as they try to resist him.

“Hey, wait!” Yeosang shouldn’t have turned around. He should’ve kept going as if he hadn’t even heard her, but no, he just has to have manners. She’s propped herself up against the counter that makes her breasts nearly pop out of the scoop neck line of her shirt. “What’s your name?”

“Yeosang.” She repeats it back to him, testing it out on her tongue. Her voice curls around the syllables lusciously and he could die right where he stood. At this point, he’s convinced that she’s made it her life’s mission to ruin him.

Ivy is quick to call Jin when she gets back to her car which seems to be the norm every time she goes to the bakery. She knows that he’s going to make fun of her for being so excited, but she can’t exactly tell her other friends about the hot, tattooed bakery owner that she plans to screw so she’ll suffer the consequences. At least now she actually knows his name so he can’t hold that over her head anymore.

The 17th has finally rolled around which means Ivy has another opportunity to draw Yeosang into her trap. Jin currently sits cross-legged on the bed in his guest room where Ivy had spent the previous night as she models her potential outfit for the day. The yellow slip dress has potential, but Jin isn’t totally impressed. He sends her back into the closet to try on one of her other options. She reappears in a fiery orange tank top tucked into a pair of lightly distressed white jeans.

“Your ass looks great in the jeans so that’s a definite yes, but I’m not really feeling this shirt.” Jin comments as Ivy does a slow turn in front of him. He crosses the room to his closet to help her go through the clothes she’d brought with her to see what her other options are. He eventually helps her settle on a simple black tank top that perfectly molds to the curves of a figure.

“Alright let’s go eat some cake and hopefully get your cakes smashed.” Jin remarks as he herds Ivy towards the door. 

When they arrive at the bakery, Yeosang has just finished putting out the tasting plates that he’d prepared. Jin is too focused on the fact that he gets to eat cake before lunch without anyone scolding him for it to notice the way that Yeosang’s face falls when he sees him walking in with Ivy. She doesn’t miss it though. Nevertheless, he reaches out to introduce himself.

“Yeosang. Nice to meet you.” Jin reciprocates his greeting before pulling out a chair for Ivy to sit down in. 

Things are all business from there on as Yeosang slides the first cake towards them and Ivy has never been more disappointed in her entire life. Gone is the Yeosang that called her beautiful and responded well to her flirting. She blames Jin. 

“So this first one is a spiced vanilla cake with a raspberry cream cheese frosting with a little orange zest.” Ivy is so focused on the way Yeosang’s lips are moving that Jin has to elbow her to bring her back to reality. She sheepishly accepts the fork that she hadn’t realized was being presented to her to taste the masterpiece in front of her. 

As they talk about what they like and don’t like about the cake, Yeosang hands them each a scoring cards to rank their favorites. Regardless of the way she feels about him on a personal level, Ivy has to admit that Yeosang is incredibly good at what he does. He was able to take her obsession with his cheesecake and come up with such interesting cake options. She’d been slightly concerned that he hand’t asked for her likes or dislikes in terms of taste, but as they move from cake to cake she realizes that he didn’t need to. Everything tastes amazing. It’s no surprise that each cake receives the highest score possible on their scoring cards. Deciding which one to go with is going to be hell.

“If you don’t let me have the spiced vanilla one we tried first I am calling off this engagement and marrying Yeosang instead of you.” Ivy stands corrected. Yeosang chuckles lowly at Jin’s enthusiasm and the throaty sound sends a shiver down her spine. It’s unfair just how effortlessly attractive he is.

“Okay folks, let’s talk decorations.” Yeosang reaches to his right, pulling a sketch pad from the empty chair next to him. His hand loosely grips a pencil as he waits for Ivy and Jin to throw some ideas at him. Ivy would prefer to throw herself at him instead, but someone how she manages to focus her brain on cake design.

Both Ivy and Jin agree on the fact that they want something simple, but beyond that they have clue what they want. Yeosang busts out a quick sketch of a three tier cake with fondant branches bearing dogwood flowers climbing the height of it. When he presents the rough drawing to them, Ivy immediately falls in love. Thankfully, Jin agrees because she was prepared to fight him over this. They spend a little while longer picking out other desserts for people who don’t want or can’t have cake, but all too soon Yeosang is watching the happy couple disappear from his shop. 

The six months until the wedding seem to blend together. Business has picked up significantly in the previous weeks which has been good for Yeosang in more ways than one. The extra cashflow has allowed him to get ahead on some bills while also giving everybody a bit of a raise. According to Seonghwa, who is primarily in charge of the front counter since accidentally slicing his hand open, a lot of the new customers have been big names in the community that are connected to Ivy or her family in one way or another. The woman in question often stops in for a cheesecake. She always asks to speak to Yeosang, claiming to have questions about the wedding though he gets the feeling that she really just wants to talk to him. Every day it gets harder and harder to resist her flirtatious advances. He refuses to be a casual fling for some bored rich girl no matter how much his dick begs him to. Especially one with rapidly approaching nuptials.

Yeosang has never been a very spiritual person, but when he gets the call that the anniversary party he’d scheduled Ivy’s wedding over had been cancelled due to the wife having the flu, he knows that some divine being is looking out for him. He had planned to do his best, but with only one more week left to prepare he was still very unsure of how he was going to pull off two events of that scale in one day. The husband Johnathan Tooney, current district attorney in the next county over, sounds shocked on the phone when he offers them a full refund despite the fact that his contracts states that customers are only entitled to a fifty percent refund of any money paid if the event is cancelled the week of. Most of his customers pay half upfront and the remaining half afterwards, but they had chosen to pay for everything up front. Something Yeosang had greatly appreciated as it was a $2,600 job. Ultimately, Mr. Tooney tells him not to as they intend to reschedule the party as soon as his wife is feeling better and would still like for him to provide the desserts they’d contracted for.

The guys are all equally relieved when Yeosang delivers the news of the anniversary party’s cancellation. Things are smooth sailing from there as they throw all of their focus and energy into making sure that everything will be ready for the wedding next weekend. Not surprisingly, Ivy doesn’t make an appearance in the bakery that week, but what is surprising is that Yeosang finds himself actually missing her presence. Despite his avoidance of all her flirting, he actually likes talking to Ivy whenever she comes in. She may be a bored rich girl but her mind is just as captivating as the rest of her.

On the day of the ceremony, Yeosang is uncharacteristically antsy. He’s not sure what it is but he can’t seem to sit still no matter what he does. He’s itching to get this day over with so Mingi can buy him the beer he owes him. Wooyoung scolds him for being distracted when he almost drops one of the cake tiers on his way to load it into one of the delivery vans. No one has to vocalize just how disastrous that would’ve been because they all know but missing an opportunity to call people out on their shit is just not in Wooyoung’s nature.

“Look, I know you’re feeling some type of way because your crush is marrying a pretty boy that’s not you but I’m going to need you to at least pretend that you still want to get paid for this job.” Yeosang nods in acknowledgment because while he doesn’t like being yelled at like a child even he knows that he’s got to get his shit together and quickly. 

“Notice how he didn’t deny his crush on cheesecake girl though.” San pipes up as he hops into the drivers seat of the van. Everyone snickers, switching to full on laughter when Yeosang flips them all off.

Thankfully, the reception goes off without a hitch. The wait staff helps set up the extensive dessert table to save on time and it comes out just as Yeosang had envisioned it. He snaps a few pictures for the bakery’s website before they leave venue. Ivy and Jin had extended invitations to Yeosang and his staff to stay for the reception, but they’d all politely declined. They’re on their way out of the service entrance when one of the girls on the wait staff runs out with two giant paper bags in her hands. Apparently, Ivy had included enough meals in her catering package to feed the vendors that would be in the building on her big day which coincidentally included Yeosang and his gang of merry bakers. They’re all taken aback by the thoughtfulness of the gesture as Yeosang accepts the bags from the staff member who quickly runs back inside the dining hall.

“Cheesecake girl is a fucking saint.” Mingi hardly ever garners emphatic agreement from the rest of his friend group but today is one of those rare occasions.

Business continues as normal following the wedding. Product is flying out of the display case. Catering orders are still coming in left and right. Ivy still stops in once a week for a cheesecake and to flirt with Yeosang. The guys still tease him for his crush on said married woman. Everything is normal.

Until it’s not.

Jin looks like freshly printed money when he strolls into Bad Boy Bakery for the first time since the cake tasting all those months ago. The silver band on his ring finger glitters even in the fluorescent lighting. Yeosang is finishing up his closing routine when he hears the bell and emerges from his office.

“Seokjin?” The manila folder clasped in the other man’s hands makes Yeosang nervous. The last time someone in a suit approached him with a manila folder he was being presented with a plea deal and ended up doing ten months in jail for assault and grand larceny.

“We need to talk. I’ll wait for you to finish up.” Jin takes a seat at an empty table and hums to himself as he waits for Yeosang to join him.

He doesn’t have to wait long for the young business owner to emerge from his office with his keys and a denim jacket in hand. The mischievous smile on Jin’s face makes him uneasy, but he’s no bitch. Yeosang steels his nerves and schools his facial expression into one of bland indifference. He arches an eyebrow when Jin slides the folder across the table and produces a pen from the breast pocket of his suit jacket. The folder may as well be a poisonous spider with the way Yeosang refuses to touch it. 

“Whatever you think it is, I promise it’s not that.” Yeosang stares Jin down for a few seconds, looking for anything at all that would suggest he should end this whole interaction right now. He doesn’t find it.

With a resigned sigh, Yeosang flips through the contents of an envelope. He shoots Jin a look when he realizes that he’s currently skimming over a nondisclosure agreement. It looks to be focused around Ivy and Jin’s marriage. The word arranged jumps out him a few times and his eyes nearly bug out of his head. The agreement is vague on the finer details but Yeosang is comfortable enough with what he’s read to quickly scrawl his name at the bottom of the last page. Jin signs his name as witness and neatly tucks everything back into the manila folder.

“Now that we have that out of the way.” Jin relaxes back into the chair and fiddles with his wedding band. “Ivy likes you. She’ll never admit that because she’s stubborn but she likes you and wants you fold her like a towel.”

“Wait, wait, wait, are you saying that your wife wants to have sex with me? How are you okay with this?” Yeosang has always loved forbidden fruit but ruining relationships was the old him. He doesn’t know what to do with this information. Furthermore, he can’t imagine being married to someone like Ivy and being okay with her sleeping with someone else.

“That’s where the NDA comes in.” Yeosang sits in stunned silence as Jin gives him the true behind the scenes story about he and Ivy’s marriage and it’s nothing like the best friends to lovers trope that they’ve fed to society. Well, he guesses the best friend part is true, but they’ve definitely never been anything close to lovers and never will be. They’re simply holding up their end of a decades-old business deal. According to Jin, he and Ivy have already devised a plan to be divorced in a year.

“So,” Yeosang is a bit unsure on how to proceed. This is uncharted territory. “what exactly are you saying to me?”

“Stop feeling bad about wanting to fuck Ivy and just do it. She’s driving me insane at home talking about how hot you are all the time and I can’t take it anymore. She’s out of cheesecake so she’ll be in here within the next couple of days so make your move. Discreetly.” 

Yeosang lays in bed that night still shocked at everything he’s learned today. His mind and body have been at war over what he believes to be right and what his body craves. He’d love nothing more than to worship Ivy from head to toe and before today it had been a pipe dream. Now that he’s been given the green light, he’s still conflicted. It feels too good to be true. But he plans to take full advantage of all the good that comes his way until shit decides to hit the fan.

Ivy gives herself a final once over in the mirror. Her outfit is simple. Just a black bodycon dress paired with a denim jacket and her red converse. According to Jin, she should look like she’s making an effort but not too much of one. She’s hoping that this will do the trick as she grabs for her keys and purse, stuffing her phone into the latter as she waits for the elevator to reach the ground floor. 

She wants to call Jin for some last minute encouragement on the way over, but he’s being a boring businessman today and is in the middle of a meeting. Ivy is totally on her own and she’s panicking. Hopefully, Yeosang finds her nervousness cute enough to overlook the awkwardness.

When Ivy enters the bakery, one of Yeosang’s friends is manning the counter. A gentle giant with a kind smile. She remembers that his name also starts with a Y like Yeosang’s but she can’t put her finger on exactly what it is.

“Hey, cheesecake girl!” Ivy rolls her eyes humorously at the nickname the other guys in the bakery have given her. She can’t help that the damned cheesecake tastes as good as it does. Before the wedding, she’d had to up her trips to the gym from zero to one just to make sure she’d  still be able to fit into her dress on her wedding day.

Her heart drops a little when she scans the display case but sees no sign of the dessert that her soul craves. Yunho laughs are disappointment before disappearing into the kitchen. He returns with a box, smiling at the way her eyes light up. 

“Yeosang is with the other guys on a job, but he said you’d be in today so he boxed it up before he left.” He slides the box across the glass countertop into her waiting hands. Ivy digs in her purse for her card to pay for the cheesecake, but Yunho is quick to stop her.

“This one’s on the house. Boss’ orders.” Ivy is a bit taken aback. Hand frozen in her purse. Yeosang makes sure that she always pays a discount rate for her cheesecake, but she’s never gotten one for free before. 

“Oh…okay. Well, have a good day.” 

It isn’t until she gets back to Jin’s place — well she guesses it’s her place now too — that she realizes why Yeosang had decided to pre-package her cheesecake this time. A phone number is scrawled on the inside of the lid with a quick message from Yeosang asking her to call him. She squeals as frantically scrambles to pull her phone from the recesses of her bag. Yunho had told her that Yeosang was out on a job so she texts him instead of calling so as not to disturb him. 

She is happily digging her fork into a second piece of cheesecake when Ivy randomly recalls something weird that Jin had said this morning when he left for work. She was still half asleep and barely human, but now here she sits at the dining room table replaying the strange sentence that her brain had decided to finally comprehend.

Don’t forget to call the baker.

Ivy hadn’t been in the right headspace to question it then, but now that the puzzle pieces are clicking into place, it’s becoming painfully obvious that Jin had something to do with the reason she’s anxiously checking her phone every five minutes. The part of her that wants to chase him with a butter sock is overridden by the much larger part that wants to thank him profusely for whatever it is that he did. Unlike Jin, Ivy doesn’t have a harem of men, women, and others lined up to satisfy her needs whenever he’s feeling inclined. 

She’s three episodes into a Cold Justice marathon when her phone rings, scaring the living daylights out of her. It’s Yeosang. Ivy’s eyes widen comically as she freaks out over what to do. She chugs the rum and coke she’d been nursing and picks up the call.

“Hello?” She cringes at how apprehensive she sounds even to her own ears.

“Hello, Ivy.” He sounds tired which has given his voice a gravelly edge to it that’s making her blood sing. “I saw your message and thought it would just be easier to call you.”

Ivy isn’t surprised in the slightest when Yeosang tells her about Jin’s visit to the bakery the night before. That’s a typical Jin move to jump the chain of command to accomplish a job. Yeosang doesn’t seem to bothered by the strangeness of it all. He seems more relieved that his guilt for lusting after a taken woman has been absolved if anything.

“This is a first for me so I’m not exactly sure what to do.” Yeosang trails off. He’s out of his element here. It goes without saying that there will be no romantic dinners at expensive restaurants or long walks to the beach.

“This is a first for me too, but you’re a hot baker that laughs at my stupid jokes and I like that.” His throaty laugh in response makes her chest swell with pride at 

“I still want to take you on a date though so I guess your place or mine?”

Yeosang is sweating bullets as he punches in the elevator code for the penthouse suite in the swanky high rise at the address Ivy had given him. In his Michael Jackson t-shirt, ripped jeans, and sneakers, he knows that he sticks out like a sore thumb, but thankfully no one in the lobby had vocalized that to his face. He adjusts his duffel bag on his shoulder as the elevator smoothly ascends to the top floor. He’s been ecstatic when Ivy had told him that she wanted him to come spend the weekend with her since Jin would be out of town on business. This is going to be the first time that he’s seen her in person since they agreed to their little arrangement and he’s nervous to say the least.

The doors silently reveal a posh sitting area as well a lacquered black door adorned with a silver “P”. Yeosang grins at the door mat just outside the door. It depicts a crudely drawn cat with both middle fingers upturned and the words “fuck off” written in a speech bubble. It looks just as out of place as he does and for whatever reason it makes him feel more at ease. He reaches out to press the doorbell but the door is yanked open before he even gets the chance.

“Jesus Christ you scared me!” If his hands weren’t full of groceries, Yeosang would’ve clutched at his rapidly beating heart. Ivy chuckles, pointing to a little black dot above the door.

“We have cameras.” 

She grabs for a few of the bags in his hands, but he twists and turns to block her efforts. Their childish antics continue until Yeosang has finally had enough. He crouches down until he’s able to wrap his arms around her thighs, delighting in her squeal when he successfully lifts her from the ground. Ivy swats at his shoulders, but the brute simply crosses the threshold, kicking the door shut with his foot before walking deeper into her home. This first “date” is off to a great start.

“So what’s on the agenda for today, Mr. Kang?” Ivy drums on the marble countertop enthusiastically as she watches Yeosang unpack the groceries he’d brought with him. 

“As much as I love a good paying customer, It’s time for you to learn how to make this cheesecake yourself.”

“You better hope I suck at it or I’ll put you out of business.”

“I don’t mind a little competition.” Yeosang smiles deviously. “Especially when the rivals look as pretty as you.”

Ivy feels her cheeks heat up in the face of such flirtation and she’s never been more thankful for the fact that her darker complexion hides the evidence of it. She’s come to know him well enough to know that he would definitely rib her for that.

As it turns out, Ivy is a natural born baker. Yeosang’s heart swells in his chest as he watches her sway her hips to the music she’d turned on as she stirs the berry compote on the stove. His chest bumps against her back as he steps up behind her and he swears he sees her shiver. He rests his head on her shoulder, covering his hand with hers and slows down the speed of her stirring.

“You have to be gentle with the berries, love.” At the sound of his voice so close to her ear, Ivy’s insides turn to goo. 

“Maybe I don’t want to be gentle.” Her words hit him square in the chest and he wants to respond in so many ways, but he settles for a chaste kiss on her temple. He’d briefly contemplated taking it slow with her, but they’ve been dancing around each other for nearly seven months at this point and there’s no point in prolonging the inevitable. The wanton desire is mutual on both sides but he wants to hear her beg. Wants her desperate and needy for him.

He eventually removes his hand from hers, choosing to instead hold onto her hips as he continues to coach her through the next steps. She’s so focused on keeping her berries from sticking that Yeosang is able to catch her off guard when he slips his hands inside her tank top to rest them against her bare skin. The gasp she lets out makes him smile deviously. His hands drift up from her lower stomach until his thumbs are brushing the lacy cups of her bra. It’s Yeosang’s turn to be caught off guard when she presses her ass firmly against his front. The way she subsequently swivels her hips is nearly his undoing, but Yeosang has a game plan and he intends to see it through.

“You’re a naughty girl, Ivy.” He lowers a hand to tug on the elastic waistband of the tiny shorts she’s wearing, letting it snap back in place. She hisses at the sting but, if the way her head lolls back onto his shoulder is any indication, she loved it. Yeosang slides his hand lower as if he’s going to cup her over her shorts only to completely remove himself from her.

He busies himself with other things around the kitchen but he can feel her glare on him the entire time. She grumbles something under her breath that sounds suspiciously like the words “teasing asshole” but he choose to ignore it. For now. 

Ivy is visibly on edge as she waits for Yeosang to touch her again, but he doesn’t make a single move to do so. He simply dances around her in the kitchen as they finish up their cheesecake preparation. It has to cool once they take it out of the oven so they migrate to the living room while they wait. The episode of Bones that Ivy been watching before he’d arrived is still paused on the tv so she restarts it and settles in next to Yeosang on the couch. She lets out a girlish squeal when he hauls her into his lap instead. He spreads her legs so that they straddle both of his, letting out a content sigh as he rests his chin on her shoulder. Arms wrapped securely around her waist. 

He waits until she’s engrossed in the episode. Certain that he’s going to keep his hands to himself. If he’d been able to see her face, he would’ve been able to see the devious grin as she devised a plan of her own. Ivy shifts her legs around until both of her feet are planted on the floor between Yeosang’s. She swivels her hips in the cradle of his lap, snickering at the groan he lets out. Two can play this teasing game. She grabs both of his hands in her own and lifts them to her breasts. Yeosang just lets them linger there. This is her show now and he wants to see her directing skills firsthand. 

With her physical encouragement, he pinches her erect nipples through the thin layers of her shirt and bra. The breathy sigh in response to his touch gives him a high that he can quickly see himself becoming addicted to. She ups the ante by dislodging his hands to remove her shirt and bra. She places his hands back on her chest, sighing once more at the feel of him kneading her breasts without any hindrances. Yeosang licks and sucks at the column of her neck. He’s careful not to leave any marks which he’s sure she’ll be appreciative of later. Her needs grows and grows until she’s craving more than what he’s giving her.

“Yeosang,” The way she half moans his name sounds like the sweetest melody. “Touch me.”

“I am touching you, baby girl.” She grunts in frustration. Looks like she’ll have to take matters into her own hands once more. 

Yeosang is shocked when Ivy suddenly rises to her feet. He’s more than confused as he watches her disappear down a hallway off to the right of the living room. His breath catches in his throat when her shorts suddenly fly back into view followed closely by a pair of panties that match the bra on the floor by his right foot. He nearly falls over in his haste to catch up to her. He finds her in the bedroom that she’d pointed out as hers when she’d given him a quick tour earlier. She’s reclined amongst the mountain of pillows circling her swollen clit with her middle finger as she fondles one of her breasts. Her mouth is slightly ajar from the pleasure and he swears that he’s never seen a sight more breathtaking. Yeosang swallows, trying to get his wits about him when she speaks and breaks him out of his daze. 

“Clothes off, babe.” His limbs are a blur as he rushes to follow her instructions. With every inch of skin he reveals, Ivy finds herself falling deeper and deeper into his trap. 

She’d seen the tattoos that covered his arms and the back of his right hand, but the Hebrew script running down his side is new to her and she makes a mental note to ask him what it says later. Right now she wants nothing more than for him to hold her down with his weight and make her his. Yeosang’s eyes are practically glued to her center so shiny from her arousal. He licks his lips at the thought of how good she probably tastes and the mere idea of having her on his tongue nearly consumes him.

Yeosang tugs on his hardened cock as he slowly walks towards the oversized bed. She’s mesmerized by the appendage standing proud between his legs. It’s not over long but he can barely get his own fist around it so she knows that the stretch will be phenomenal when he finally gets inside. He grabs her by both ankles and pulls her into the center of the bed so that she’s flat on her back. She squirms in anticipation as he crawls over her. Lips and hands caressing every inch of her skin that they can reach. She moans deep in her throat when he finally covers her lips with his own in their first ever kiss. Her fingers find purchase in his hair, holding him to her as they ravage each other. Each exhale from her lips traded for his.

Ivy is brought back to the task at hand when a needy thrust of Yeosang’s hips has the engorged head of his erection pressing against her clit. She bites down on his bottom lip at the sudden onslaught of pleasure, rolling her hips up to get more of the addictive friction.

“Gotta taste you. Want you to cum in my mouth.” Yeosang’s words don’t match up with his actions as he continues to peck her lips over and over again. Eager to discover if his tongue is just as talented as his hands, Ivy pulls away to gently push at his head until he gets the message.

The first swipe of his tongue on her soaked flesh is purely self-indulgent. He’s thrilled to discover that she tastes just as sweet as he thought she would. Like the nectar of a fresh honeydew. He sucks her clit into his mouth, biting down on it gently before swirling his tongue around it to soothe the ache. Her eyes roll into the back of her head and she can’t decide if she wants to run from or towards his mouth. She doesn’t get the chance to decide as Yeosang anchors her squirming hips to the bed with one of his arms. 

He teases her entrance with a single finger, smirking at the filthy curses falling from her lips as she begs him to make her cum. He gives her clit a particularly harsh suck as he sinks his finger in deep. Her breathing starts coming in quick pants when he adds a second finger and then a third. When she starts folding in on herself, he pulls his fingers from her dripping hole. Her suddenly empty hole clenches around nothing as she complains about being denied the orgasm she was dancing on the edge of.

Her complaints die on her tongue when she takes in the sight of Yeosang walking on his knees towards her. Ivy sits up and meets him halfway. She can taste herself on his tongue as their lips meet for the second time and it has a fresh tidal wave of arousal all but gushing from her. His waning self-control is evident in the way he turns her around to face her headboard, pushing on her shoulders until she’s face down in in the sheets.

She whimpers at the heavy smack he rains down on her ass. He groans at the way it bounces before he grips both cheeks in his hands, pulling them apart to get a proper view of her waiting entrance. Part of him wants to tease her some more, but he doesn’t have it in him to wait one more minute. She nearly sobs at the satisfying stretch of him sinking into her eager flesh in one smooth thrust. He grinds his hips against her ass, relishing in the way her walls are hugging him so tightly. She clenches around him, trying to draw him back in as he eases his hips back only to roughly thrust his length back into her. He repeats that action a few more times to open her up before finally breaking loose. 

All forms of speech beyond broken curse words and his name are lost to Ivy as Yeosang demolishes her. His pace builds till it’s almost frantic. It feels like his length is vibrating within her and she can feel her orgasm approaching quickly. She tries to warn him, but he is already well aware. He slows his hips down to a gentle roll and the change in pace has her seeing stars as he can now expertly target that sensitive spot deep within her. He reaches underneath her to rub circles in her clit and she’s lost. Black dots dance around across her vision as the pleasure threatens to completely drag her under. His hips never stop moving as he fucks her through it. The erratic clenching of her inner walls soon proves to be too much for him. He pulls out of her wet heat just in time to release his seed onto her back.

Ivy collapses onto her stomach. Exhausted beyond measure. Yeosang falls next to her breathing just as hard. He’s not going to lie and pretend that he hasn’t dived into more than his fair share of pussy, but that was easily the best sex he’s ever had. He can barely breathe but that doesn’t stop him from leaning over to press his lips against hers once more. Their chests are still heaving when they separate, choosing instead to lean his forehead against hers. 

“I can’t feel my legs.” She whispers on a breathless laugh. 

“Good thing I’m the king of aftercare.” He pecks her lips once more before crossing the room to her en suite bathroom to get a warm towel to clean her up with. By the time he returns, she’s fast asleep much to his surprise. Normally, Yeosang likes to end his trysts with a massage, but she’s sleeping so peacefully. He cleans up his mess before sliding back into the bed next to her as he pulls a spare blanket over them. 

Yeosang awakens the next morning to an empty bed and the smell of coffee brewing. A shower is definitely in order before he seeks out Ms. Ivy. He walks into the kitchen a little while later to find her cooking breakfast in his t-shirt. It’s so domestic that for a moment he forgets that she’s legally spoken for until her wedding ring catches the sunlight from the picture windows.

“Morning.” He whispers into her ear. She jumps at the sound, obviously not realizing that he was awake yet. She relaxes against him when he wraps his arms around her midsection.

“Good morning, handsome. I’m almost done if you wanna grab some plates.” Yeosang preens at the compliment, kissing her cheek an obnoxious amount of times before grabbing plates and some silverware.

The sound of their forks clinking against their plates as they eat fills the pleasant silence as the two adults make faces across the table at each other like children. Yeosang can’t remember the last time he was this comfortable with a woman he was seeing. For the millionth time since he woke up this morning, he finds himself resenting the fact that she’s married. 

“I can feel you staring.” Yeosang doesn’t bother looking up see Ivy’s facial expression at being caught as he rinses the last breakfast dish to put in the drying rack. “Spit it out before I get old and feeble.”

“What does the tattoo on your side say?” He looks up at her then, searching her face. Ivy is beginning to feel that she shouldn’t have said anything the longer Yeosang remains silent. He drys his hands on a towel, walking towards Ivy where she sits sprawled across one of the cushy armchairs in the living room. He lifts her only to set her back down in his lap.

“May you rescue us from the hand of every foe, ambush along the way, and from all manner of punishments that assemble to come to earth.” Yeosang absentmindedly strokes his fingers back and forth across Ivy’s bare thigh. “It’s part of a Hebrew prayer of protection that my mom made me get when she realized that her scolding was falling on deaf ears.”

Ivy can’t help but giggle as Yeosang enthusiastically re-enacts his mother’s words all those years ago. She’s seen the articles in the local magazines. They all tell the same story of a young street kid that found his calling and turned his life around, but words on a piece of paper doesn’t capture the nuance of who Kang Yeosang is. He doesn’t shy away from who he was. He embraces it with open arms. She listens intently as he tells the story that will never be found in any magazine. The story of how he successfully graduated from small-time dealing to running guns, drugs, and the occasional fine artifact when he was only twenty three.

“Would you do it differently if you had the chance?” Ivy picks at the hem of the Thriller he’d been wearing the day before as she awaits his answer. She’s admittedly shocked when he he gives an emphatic no. 

“It wasn’t exactly something I could put on my resume, but it set this part of my life into motion.” She leans her head into the crook of his neck. Lulled into comfortable security by the vibration of his vocal cords. “I learned how to run a business. Granted, it was illegal, but I baked my first cake in jail which is what ultimately led to me opening the bakery and then meeting you.” 

Time is a forgotten concept as they sit in the armchair sharing embarrassing childhood stories and fleeting kisses when they just can’t help themselves. That’s how Jin finds them. Giggling like teenagers that have finally earned closed door privileges. Yeosang freezes when he notices Jin’s still unsure how to act around him. Ivy on the other hand is excited to welcome her best friend back home. 

“Jinnie!” She hops up to give him a quick hug and peck on the cheek before returning to her perch on Yeosang’s lap. Awkwardness is radiating off of the man beneath her in near tangible waves. He visibly relaxes when Ivy buries her fingers in the hair at the back of his head to scratch at his scalp.

“I missed you too, Vee. Good to see you again, Mr. Kang.” Jin winks conspiratorially at Yeosang as he cracks open the bottle of water he’d snagged from the refrigerator. “Take good care of my wife.” He adds as a parting shot on his way down the hall to his bedroom which sends Ivy into a fit of curses. Yeosang finds himself cracking a smile at the sound of Jin’s laughter somewhere down the hall.

It’s not the most conventional situation by any means, but Yeosang feels like he can make this work. He glances down at the grumbling woman in his arms. Yeah, he can definitely make this work.

Yeosang is elbow deep in bread dough for a new recipe he’s working on when he hears his phone ringing where he’d left it on the charger in his bedroom. He’s supposed to be heading to Ivy’s later tonight and he’s hoping to have her taste test his new bread when he gets there, meaning he can have no interruptions so he lets his phone go to voicemail. His phone rings again, but this time the song it plays catches his attention. The Alina Baraz song he’d set for Ivy’s ringtone drifts down the hallway. He instantly cracks a smile at the thought of the woman on the other end of that phone call. Passing up an opportunity to hear her voice is beyond Yeosang’s capabilities so he extracts himself from the dough, making a mad dash for the ringing device.

“Hey, babe.” She sniffles in his ear and all of his sense are suddenly on high alert. In all of the months since they started dating he can’t recall her crying. Ever. She’s just too happy. His mind runs through a myriad of horrible possibilities like film cuts. “Ivy, talk to me. What’s wrong?”

“I need you.” Yeosang has absolutely no idea what’s going on but his heart feels like it’s being ripped in two at the sound of her crying. He pulls his phone away from his ear when it pings. He has to swallow to keep himself together when he sees that Ivy has sent him her location. 

“I’m on my way, baby. I’m coming.”

The other cars on the road look like blurs as Yeosang weaves between and around them at break neck speed. The hospital that Ivy is at is supposed to be a twenty seven minute drive according to google maps, but Yeosang is parking his mustang exactly sixteen minutes later. He’s honestly surprised that he wasn’t pulled over on the way, but his euphoric disbelief is short-lived as he dashes towards the front doors of the hospital. 

“Can I help you?” The woman manning the front looks at Yeosang with a barely concealed air of distaste. He follows her eyes to his tattooed arms on display in the short sleeved shirt he’s wearing. He’s still pretty much covered in flour from his bread making and he can tell that she doesn’t think much of him. Normally, he would make an attempt to assuage people like her and show that tattoos don’t make the man, but he doesn’t have time for that.

“I’m looking for Ivy Kim.”

“I can neither confirm nor deny whether or not we have someone here by that name.”

“Listen, lady if you-” Yeosang is on the verge of falling into the trap of the old wench’s bias when he hears his name being called. He turns his head to see Jin waving him over from where he’s holding the elevator doors open. He flips the old lady off, delighting in her scandalized gasp as he jogs towards the bay of elevators.

Now that he’s closer, Yeosang notices the cuts and bruises that litter his friend’s face. He looks like he’s been beat pretty good, but he brushes off any questions about what happened. Yeosang is on the verge of choking on his nerves as he follows Jin off of the elevator to room 437.

“I’m going to get some coffee. You guys need to talk.” Jin claps Yeosang on the shoulder once as he goes back the way they came. 

He’d risked life and limb to get here, but now he’s afraid to take one more step. He has no idea what’s going on, but he can feel it in his bones that nothing will be the same once he steps through this door. Yeosang’s phone vibrates just then with a notification from the Nike app about some stuff he left in his cart. The little nike swoosh on his phone screen feels like a divine sign for him to stop being such a pussy and go in the room. 

Seeing Ivy curled into a ball in the middle of the hospital bed is nearly his undoing. The tears steadily streaming down her face catch the light from the hallway when she turns her head to see who it is. A sob racks her figure as she reaches for him. Yeosang shuts the door, plunging the room back into darkness as he rushes to her side. He’s not used to her looking this fragile and it’s killing him. He kicks his shoes off and climbs into the bed next to her, careful not to jostle the IV needle in her arm. She leans into his touch as he brushes her hair away from her face. The fabric of his shirt is no match for the barrage of tears that Ivy dumps on it. He lets her cry until she has nothing left. For a moment he thinks that she’s fallen asleep, but she whispers something against the skin of his neck. Her voice is so low that he can’t make it out even with her lips being mere inches from his hair.

“You’ve gotta speak up for me, love.” This time when she speaks, he hears her loud and clear.

“I lost our baby.” 

He can hear her saying something about a car accident and blood, but her words don’t register in his brain. Yeosang feels like the ground has opened up beneath him, but he’s not falling. Simply hovering, drifting in the void. He hadn’t even known she was pregnant and that’s definitely something Ivy would have told him so he’s guessing that she didn’t know either. Visions of a tiny child with her doe-like eyes and his nose flash across his minds eye. Yeosang has never given much thought to being a father, but knowing that he’d created a child with Ivy only for them to be ripped away like this is tearing him apart. He holds her impossibly close, trying to anchor himself to reality. Tears are flowing down his own face as he attempts to process what they’ve lost. 

“This is all my fault.” The guilt in her voice is nearly palpable. Yeosang cups her face in his hands to force her to look him in the eye. 

“You did nothing wrong, Ivy. Get that thought out of you head right now, do you hear me?” Ivy nods her head slowly but Yeosang is not naive. No matter what he says, it’s going to take a while before she actually believes the truth in his words. 

Jin hates to interrupt them. He loathes it, but life is cruel and Ivy’s parents just texted him that they just parked their car and are on their way inside. His feet feel heavy as he treks back down the hallway. He pokes his head into the dark room and winces at the muffled sound of them crying together. 

“I’m so sorry guys, but Ivy’s parents are on their way up.” Yeosang gets the urge to laugh despite the fact that absolutely nothing is funny. This is just adding insult to injury.

Ivy clings to him like a koala when he tries to stand and he’s got half a mind to say fuck the consequences and stay. That wouldn’t be fair to Jin though. He harbors no ill will towards the man even though he’s living the life he wants so for his sake, he extricates himself from Ivy’s grasp to put his shoes on. Her bottom lip quivers dangerously as he leans down to softly kiss her forehead. Jin pulls Yeosang into a hug before he can walk past him and it takes a herculean effort for Yeosang to keep it together. His heart aches with every step he takes towards the exit stairs. It feels like someone is taking a jackhammer to his chest.

He leans his head back against the headrest when he finally reaches his car. A pained yell bursts from his throat before he can even think of trying to stop it. His horn beeps erratically as he pounds at his steering wheel in anger. Yeosang has been through hell in his twenty six years on Earth and yet, he can’t recall a time when he’s ever felt this much mental anguish and despair. Part of him wishes that he’d never stopped slinging coke and running the streets because he’d have never met Ivy and thus would’ve never experienced this. He hates that thought the second it materializes.

The shrill ringing of an old school phone that Yunho had insisted on having as his ringtone breaks through his misery. Yeosang has no desire to utter a word to anyone other than Ivy but Yunho is a persistent bastard. He’ll just keep calling until he gets an answer. He clears his throat and hopes that his childhood best friend is having an off day with those damn spidey senses of is.

“Hello?”

“Dude, have you been crying? No wonder my spirit is unsettled. The fuck is going on?” So much for eluding Yunho’s questions. Yeosang huffs out a shaky breath. He’s not even sure he’s even fully grasped what’s going on himself. He can hear the sound of keys jingling on Yunho’s end.

“Listen, I’m gonna go buy an obnoxious amount of alcohol and then I’m coming over to you place. See you in twenty.” Yunho doesn’t wait for a response, hanging up the phone with a sense of finality. 

True to his word, Yunho’s car is parked in front of his building when Yeosang makes it home. His car is empty, so he’s guessing that he must have used his key and gone inside already. He’s not surprised to find Yunho nursing a beer on his couch as he scrolls through something on his phone. His eyes widen slightly as he takes in Yeosang’s haggard appearance. He knows he looks like shit so Yunho’s reaction isn’t unexpected.

It’s nearly three in the morning when they finally crash. Yunho is passed out in the guest room but sleep evades him despite the multiple beers swirling through his system. If he was sober, he probably wouldn’t make this decision, but he’s far from it so he reaches for his phone to FaceTime Ivy. The second her face replaces his on the screen, Yeosang immediately feels like he can breathe again. He’d been avoiding the feeling before now, but after everything that’s happened in the last twenty four hours? He’s tired of beating around the bush.

“I love you, Ivy.” The smile that spreads across her tired face brings Yeosang so much joy. There’s no telling how long it’s been since she’s graced the world with one of her radiant smiles. He takes it as a victory that he was the one to bring that out of her. 

“I love you too, Yeosang.”