#yes that is a pot of leaves from the Outside

[fatal-blow]

so like many things most tips in the realm of native gardening and supporting the local environment are made by people who have all the energy and a weirdly vested interest in only doing it their own way and not giving way to people who have none of the energy so

hacks for the low energy native gardener (part 1?)

before you go out and buy any tools, plugs, seeds, whatever the hell, know what you have to work with. whether youre renting a tiny apartment or have a large grassy plot, take a couple days to pay attention to the plants and animals that already live nearby. these are your neighbours, and they will be the ones benefiting from whatever you decide to get up to.

each environment ranges in levels of biodiversity. i live in a place with higher biodiversity, but many people live in places where the diversity has been depleted. you can get the roughest idea of your areas diversity with a simple walk around the block. take note of how many different species of Tree/Shrub, Flower, Bird, and Animal you see. if youre only getting 2-3 in each category, this is lower diversity. if youre more in the range of 6+, this is higher diversity.

higher diversity is a healthier environment, yes even if the diversity is almost entirely invasive species. if you live somewhere on the higher end of diversity, you will be better off spending your time reading about the guys you already have. use inaturalist to ID, and take a read through the wikipedia page for these species.

in a higher diversity area, your goal should be to fill in the gaps. some examples include: drinkable water, nesting sites, shelter, and seasonality (eg you have plants that bloom in fall, but nothing that blooms in spring)

in low diversity spaces, your goals can be more open ended. a low diversity space will be starving for variety, and just about anything you do short of destroying more will help support the area. activities can range from letting some of your lawn grow out to buying a potted flowering plant and leaving it outside.

do not fret if your efforts attract invasive species. in low diversity areas, these are often the only species available TO attract. in higher diversity areas, invasive species can often coexist with natives. its often a matter of resource availibility: if theres enough to go around, competition between the two can be eased. as a layman with no energy, do not concern yourself with invasives.

i could make this entire post about how invasive species are low on the priority list but i wont. this time.

a bird feeder is one of the simplest ways to boost your local environment. buy a metal tube feeder with an anti-squirrel cage around it, fill it with black oil sunflower seeds. NO PLASTIC. you do not need to clean it every time you fill it, only if it gets nasty or if you notice sick birds using it. do not fret if it gets mobbed by invasives. the sounds of happy birds, ANY happy birds, will signal to other species that this area is safe and has food. if you live somewhere that gets cold, a suet feeder is a great investment as well.

If you have a lawn and want to rewild it, you do not need to rip up the sod. dig a hole straight through it and plant your guy. ripping up the sod is time and energy consuming, and only really useful if you plan to convert the entire area immediately.

letting a lawn grow out can yield many surprises. the vast majority of lawns arent actually monocultures, just a collection of guys who grow low and can handle getting mowed. when you first let the grass grow out, it probably wont have much going on, but the height and lack of mowing will provide a new microenvironment for different types of plants to grow in the shade, and the next year you will already have new guys popping up.

dont buy seeds, if you can help it. if you want to use seeds, you will have more success taking a muffin container, poking holes in the bottom, and making little soil patties to grow them in. leave the container outside over winter, and in spring youll have these nice little pucks of seedlings that can be transferred to larger pots, and then into the ground once theyre 15-20cm tall.

your money is best spent on buying a mature or already growing plant from the nursery. dont plant it right away, but leave it in the pot in the spot you want to plant it. if it dries out or wilts, too much sun. if it gets pale and the soil remains waterlogged, too much shade. use that to determine its final resting place. when in doubt, opt for a bit shadier--especially if its shady during the midday heat.

pesticides and herbicides are not necessary. raking leaves is not necessary. trimming dead stems and foliage in winter is not necessary.

and possibly most important: always add more than you intend to take away. do not destroy until you have a replacement.

[theshitpostcalligrapher]

Factually, I understand the process of boiling leaf litter that I have collected from my backyard is logical, I don't want to introduce anything potentially harmful into my isopod enclosure

on the other hand

boiling pot of leaves is REALLY giving kid-making-leaf-brew-like-a-makebelieve-witch vibes

[saetoru]

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。SPRING — NANAMI KENTO.

contents. domesticity with nanami after moving in together. aka brushing your teeth. aka staring at him shamelessly as he does mundane tasks. (me writing someone other than gojo or geto ???? whatttttt :O)

it doesn’t hit you that you and kento now live together until the the morning after the first night.

it’s spring. there are flowers you want to keep in your balcony sitting in your living room, the box labeled dishes is half empty from only what you took out for dinner, and you aren’t quite sure where your clothing box is because you forgot to label it. but kento is handsome next to you in the bathroom, shirtless as he brushes his teeth.

there are two sinks—one for you and one for him, but you opt for brushing your hip against his and sharing one. he doesn’t say anything, just scoots a little to the side and rinses his mouth as he makes room for you.

“please stop staring,” he mumbles tiredly, “it’s getting awkward.”

“you look handsome,” you pout, “i can’t admire you?”

“i’m brushing my teeth,” he deadpans.

“yes, a very handsome sight. i love seeing your care for dental hygiene.”

kento sighs, grabbing the small towel from the side and patting his face dry as you lean down and spit, rinsing your own mouth and plopping your toothbrush back in place. next to his.

and your face wash is beside his too, and so is your shampoo and body wash in the shower. you step to the side, bumping hips with him again as you grin—it’s ecstatic, the expression on your face.

“kento, i just realized something,” you murmur, leaning to press a kiss to his jaw. it’s smooth, the feeling of his skin under your lips—you watched him shave earlier, sat on the counter and swung your legs as he carefully ran the razor along his skin.

“and what’s that?” he asks, patting your face with the towel, gently wiping away the droplets of water with extra care.

“we live together now—and i can watch you brush your teeth every day,” you grin.

“we shared a bed last night,” he raises a brow, “i’m sure you realized a bit before this that we now share a living space.”

wrong.

your home isn’t put together yet—you couldn’t find your pajamas last night, so you wear kento’s. the coffee machine still hasn’t been taken out and plugged in yet, and breakfast is currently limited to cereal and fruit that doesn’t need to be cut until the kitchen utensils have been organized. your couch hasn’t arrived yet, and your bed is currently just a mattress on the floor until the bed frame is delivered.

it doesn’t really dawn on you that you and kento are living together until you wake up with his chest under your cheek and his breath fanning against your forehead. sure, you and kento have spent nights at each other’s apartments—but that always results in one rising before the other to leave early and make up for the extra distance in the commute to work.

today, however, you and kento are home together. it’s spring—you can hear cicadas calling and see the buds blooming in the plants outside. there are flowers waiting to be potted in your balcony, and fresh strawberries of the season waiting for you in the kitchen.

and when you watch kento take his time and brush his teeth, hip accidentally bumping against yours as he leans down to rinse his mouth, you realize your home is with kento now.

you grin, wrapping your arms around his neck, “well, we’ve shared a bed before,” you kiss delicately at the slant of his jaw again, “but i’ve never seen you shirtless and brushing your teeth.”

“this new obsession is scaring me,” he mumbles, “what’s so special about me brushing my teeth?”

“oh, kento,” you grin, warm and bright and as fresh as the first breeze of spring, “it’s certainly a sight. you just have to see it.”

he hums, shaking his head gently as he chuckles in that soft, calm little way that he does. his arms find your waist.

your bathroom, even with missing shower curtains, feels like it’s always been yours. it feels natural, living with kento, it feels natural sharing a towel to wipe your face and leaving the door unlocked for the other to come in as you prepare for the morning.

“i have my own sight,” he murmurs, tracing your cheek as his hand cups your face, “you look lovely when you drool in your sleep.”

“kento,” you whine with a pout, “don’t watch me sleep.”

“how could i not?” he grins, brown eyes bordering on hazel as they brighten, “it’s the best new part of my mornings.”

he kisses you there, in the bathroom you still have to finish setting up, the tiles cool beneath your feet and his lips warm against your mouth.

it’s spring when you move in with kento—and you have a newfound appreciation for the season.

guess who wants to brush her teeth in the mornings with nanamin. it might be me. it might be my undying need for domesticity. it might be my deep desire to witness him spit. it might be both. i haven’t decided yet

[trivia-yandere]

autumn of terror

the small town of oakville is being taken over by a serial killer who goes by "the ripper" who uses fear as a tactic to control the town entire. you, an out of town detective, team up with head detective of oakville kim seokjin, to take down the ripper. @sweetempathprunetree @momnomnom @darkuni63 @bangtans-momma @chimmy-licious @investedreader

word count: 16.773

warning: blood, character deaths, smut, reader is blindfolded, dub-con moments, slight mention of child abuse/abandonment, voyeurism, oral sex (m/f), handjob, dub-con.non-con elements, dirty talk, degradation, nipple sucking, thigh riding, overstimulation, squirting, unprotected sex, mentions of human trafficking,

halloween masterlist - happy spooky season!!

The leaves crumble beneath your feet as you step onto the pavement, a chill running up your spine at how chilly it was this autumn. The breeze runs through your hair and pierces against your skin like a knife. Your breathing is evident in the harsh, cold weather and your nose automatically sniffles.

Your legs continue to walk up the shallow stairs of the building, your gloved hand grasping the door handle and pulling it open. Warm air engulfs you and you sigh in relief, rushing inside. 

It’s chaotic inside said building - there’s several phones ringing nearly nonstop, people running around in a frenzy. You never seen a precinct be in such a ruckus. There’s a crowd forming inside, all of which are hollering out demands while there are several police officers attempting to hold them back.

Your eyes scan the large precinct, eyes unsure where to fall - the telephones are ringing nonstop and you notice they are several officers already speaking. Officers who are attempting to keep the crowd at bay are seconds from drawing their weapons.

“What are you doing to catch the Ripper?!”

“How many people have to die before the Ripper is caught?!”

The Ripper.

The Ripper was the reason why you were here - all the way from your own town. The Ripper has taken over the town of Oakville spanning back to the end of summer. It began with one or two murders a week - it caused mumbles in the streets of Oakville. Murders so gruesome didn’t happen in said town - blood splattering the streets and the walls, intestines sprawling outside of the body and seemingly dragged away for miles.

One or two murders a week became murders every night - each murder more gruesome and cruel than the last. It caused a frenzy throughout the town that had officers and detectives working overtime for any clues; the Ripper left none.

As Autumn creeped in, it appeared as if the Ripper’s identity had remained a secret, but that didn’t mean that the Ripper worked alone. 

“Excuse me?” you clear your throat, waving your hand high to grab the attention of the officers. “I’m here to speak to Detective Kim? I’m Detective-”

“Y/L Y/N.”

There’s a door to the far right that opens and you hear the ragged voice of just the man you were looking for. Seokjin is tall and his shoulders broad - they appear to be stressed as the weight of the town depends solely on his shoulders. “Come, please.” he says, waving you over to his office. “We’ve been expecting you.”

You do as you’re asked, rushing towards the man's office where he quickly slams the door shut and locks it in case anyone from the crowd wants to follow after you.

“Coffee?” Seokjin asks - the question comes out as a sigh. You assume that he uses coffee to keep himself sane and awake. There’s slight bags underneath his eyes and you understand that he must be working overtime to figure out clues.

“Uh, yes. I’ll make it.” you nod your head, making your way towards the pot of coffee that’s on the shelves while Seokjin makes his way around to his desk. “So, what do we have so far, detective?”

“Please,” Seokjin huffs with a shake of his head. He falls onto his office chair and opens up a few documents. “You can call me Seokjin or even Jin. We’re going to be well acquainted if we’re going to be working together.”

You nod your head at him. “Yes, Jin.” you say, the little nickname sounding foreign to your tongue. 

It was a month prior when you got a call from Kim Seokjin, lead detective from Oakville, a small town a few hours from your own. The man appears slightly frantic and desperate, explaining that every precinct he has called for assistance outside of his town had refused any assistance - an act you found completely cowardly. You had agreed to help him with the investigation no matter how long it took and he was grateful.

You listen to Jin speak as you pour sugar and milk into your coffee.

“Right, as you know,” Jin begins, leaning back into his chair. “the Ripper has been plaguing this town for months now. The townspeople are utterly terrified of him - them.”

“You believe the Ripper is more than one person?” you ask, blowing at your coffee.

Jin shrugs. “It’s a possibility,” he states. “Nothing is off the table. I believe the Ripper is just the head of an organization - the same gang we have around Oakvale now.”

“Explain further, please.” you sip your coffee, leaning against the wall as your eyes watch Jin. 

Jin sighs. His right hand reaches up to rub at his temple. 

“There’s a small gang that we are positive that operates at the Ripper’s orders. We have someone on the inside undercover.” Jin says, glancing up at you. “By his words, none of them has seen the Ripper face to face, only speaks to him over the phone or through letters and such.”

You furrow your brows. “Interesting.” you murmur. You place your cup of coffee on the shelf and cross your arms, grateful that you were beginning to warm up. “The Ripper is doing a great job at remaining anonymous.”

“Tell me about it.”  Jin scoffs. “I had one of my men go undercover nearly a month ago and has seen everything except the Ripper.”

“I see.” you hum. “What is the plan while he’s on the inside?”

“The Ripper is one hell of a killer and none of those working under him is as calculated as he is.” Jin opens up a few envelopes. “His kills are truly horrifying and demeaning and this is how he even keeps his own gang in line. They’re just as terrified of him as we are.”

Jin continues. “I’ve seen this town go from safe to completely…barbaric. Prostitution is at an all time high on the outskirts of the town and my detective tells me that some of them are forced into it. The townspeople are attempting to take matters into their own hands and have physically brought in who they assume the Ripper is.”

You believe it, the angry crowd outside were just as restless and afraid. “I take it as none of the suspects were the Ripper.”

Jin snickers with a shake of his head. “You’re catching on quick, Y/N. Can I call you by name?” he asks, and when you nod, he continues. “By what I’ve seen the Ripper can do, he would not let a few townspeople catch him. He’s truly a force of nature…a shadow.”

“You must’ve had a lot on your plate.” you take another sip of your coffee. 

“Indeed I have. Detectives and officers have quit because they received threatening letters…by the Ripper.” Jin glances your way, analyzing your reaction. “I should have told you before-”

“I understand why you haven’t.” you interrupt. “I’m from out of town, Jin. I won’t be scared away by the Ripper.”

Jin exhales.  “I hope so. We need all the help we can get.” he admits, eyes glancing back down at the stack of documents. “Do you have any questions?”

“Well, for one…is there a spare room around here? I already told my captain that I won’t be returning until the Ripper is caught.”

Jin’s eyes slightly widened. You were serious about staying and helping.

“I can have a room made for you!” Jin nods his head. “I live right above the precinct, as sad as that sounds. I have basically lived here myself ever since the murders.”

“Thank you.” you nod, offering a soft smile. “My next question is, what do you think we should do to take down the Ripper? I have a few of my own.”

“Please, explain.”

“Well,” you step forward to sit across from him in the arm chair. “The Ripper doesn’t work alone. I say we take down as many of his little gang and that should be able to draw him out, right? Your detective on the inside should be able to help with that.”

Jin slowly nods his head. He places a hand on his chin.

“We start by taking down whatever businesses he has. The prostitution ring is just the beginning I’m sure. There has to be a reason why he’s doing all of this.”

“Control? He’s completely taken over the city.” Jin shakes his head once more. “My detective said there’s parties nearly every other day at a secluded location.”

You nod. “That’s what the prostitutes are far, I’m sure. Maybe there may even be…higher officials at these parties?”

Jin tilts his head. “You mean like…?”

“Officers. Politicians and more. People in high places with power.” It wouldn’t be a surprise to you that this is why the Ripper can remain as anonymous as he does.

Jin releases another exhale. He licks his lips, beady eyes blinking a few times. 

“You can be right, Y/N. We’ll have to infiltrate these parties.”

“We do. If I may,” you lean forward, elbows on his desk. “do you believe we should have another insider?”

“How so?”

“Well, like me?” you tilt your head. “I’m a new face. The Ripper nor anyone working for him would know who I am.”

“Y/N,” Jin goes to shake his head. “I don’t think-”

“The closest to the Ripper’s operation are the prostitutes, are they not?”

Jin’s beady eyes widened. “Y-You want to go undercover as a prostitute? Y/N,” he releases a shaky chuckle. “that is completely dangerous.”

“I’m well aware, Jin. I’m also a trained and skilled detective, unlike the women working those spaces. I’ll be able to protect myself.”

Jin eyes you, scanning your face. “You’re serious.” he states. “I’ll never forgive myself if you were harmed, Y/N. You are only here because of me, after all.”

“We both have jobs to do, don’t we, Jin?” you tilt your head. “I’ll be safe and grab intel while I’m on the inside. I’ll be nothing but a whore to them.”

A loud knock sounds on the door and it startles both you and Jin. The door creaks open, waiting for no answer. It shuts abruptly behind the intruder.

“Y/N,” Jin stands to his feet. “This is my undercover detective. Daniel,” he nods his head to you. “This is the detective I was speaking with you about.”

“The one from out of town.” Daniel nods his head. He appears to be out-of-breath, dark hair sticking to his forehead. 

“Y/N is suggesting she infiltrate, as well. As a prostitute…”

Daniel’s eyes widen and he looks at you. “I…don’t think you’d want to do this.”

You raise an eyebrow. “For the sake of the case,” you begin.

“You’ll have to sleep with one of them in order to gain access. That’s how they determine if…” Daniel sighs, a pink tint to his cheeks. “...if you’re worthy or not to work for them.”

Your mouth goes dry for a moment. Slowly, you nod your head. What else would you expect - these women were working and selling sex. “Who would I have to sleep with?”

“You’re not truly considering this?” Jin scoffs in disbelief. “Y/N-”

“How else are we going to gain access to these parties? We’ll need someone else on the inside. Once there, I’ll excuse myself and find a way to contact you and that’s how you’ll be able to bust them, no?”

Jin shakes his head. This plan was already risky - but knowing now that you’d have to give up your body so soon is something he doesn’t want for you. 

“It sounds like a good idea…” Daniel murmurs. “Even I don't even know where these parties are held. Only certain members are allowed to go for security purposes.”

“You’re sure you want to do this?” Jin murmurs to you. “Sleep on it for now. Tomorrow we can speak further.”

“Jin-”

“It’s not up for debate.” Jin says. “Enough talk of this case. Are you hungry? We can grab something to eat. Daniel?”

“Right,” Daniel nods. “I was just reporting back. Tomorrow there’ll be a shipment coming in.”

Jin nods. “I’ll make sure to have officers on hand,” he says. “Thank you, Daniel.”

Daniel nods. “No problem.” he sighs. He offers you a short glance. “Detective,” he bows to you before turning on his heels and making his leave.

As the door clicks shut, Jin frowns at you. You furrow your brows. “Are you upset with me?”

“No. Just…” Jin swallows his words. “...I don’t want anyone else dying at the hands of the Ripper or his weak henchmen.”

You understood completely. What you were doing is insane - but for the sake of the case, you’d do it. You were a renowned detective that always put whatever case you had first, no matter the consequences.

“What do you prefer to eat?” Jin asks, closing a few file envelopes before rounding his desk to you. “There’s a diner not far from here we can go to?”

“Uh, yeah sure. That’ll be fine.” you nod your head, lifting yourself up from the chair. You make your way to your discarded cup of coffee and quickly down it. It’s lukewarm now and easier to drink than when it was white it was piping hot. “Let’s go. I’m sure you can fill me in on whatever details we left out.”

“I often enjoy breakfast for dinner.” Jin comments, digging into the smothered pancakes, syrup daring to drip down his lips. “I basically live in my office since the Ripper appeared.”

You take a sip of your juice and nod your head. “I can imagine. The phone was ringing nonstop.”

Jin snickers. “You’re not lying. I’ve unplugged the one in my office.” he says. “The calls were all useless. Some thought they caught the Ripper while others were just demanding that we hurry up and do our jobs.”

“Is it that ludicrous to believe that they did find the Ripper?” you ask.

Jin lifts his eyes to look at you, a look of disdain. He nods his head slowly. “Of course. You believe a regular person can find someone that doesn’t want to be found?”

You scoff. “Putting it that way…”

Dinner goes by smoothly. Jin has managed to give you as much information about the Ripper as possible and your mind processes it entirely. You didn’t have an easy stomach, so going through the crime scene photos didn’t bother your stomach, but your spirit. The way these people were harmed so cruelly - dismembered and body treated with such hatred. You want to ask if the Ripper has any tie to any of these people? Surely these could not be random murders committed - not when it appeared to be so personal.

“Enough about the case.” Jin nearly has to pry away the documents from you. He closes them and places it besides him. “What about you, Y/N?”

“What about me?” you plop a piece of toast into your mouth and begin to chew.

“What made you want to become a detective?” Jin questions. “I feel like we’ll be working together for a while. The Ripper isn’t an easy target.”

“I agree.” you chuckle. “Well…I…” you swallow, unsure of where to start. The beginning is always good and Jin didn’t appear to be in any rush. “...I always wanted to help. I actually…um…”

You bring your glass of juice up to your lips and begin to chug. Talking about your past was never easy for you. You don’t cry anymore - you’re an adult that doesn't need to seek out pity. In your line of work, you’ve experienced worse as do others. 

“I was given up for adoption by my biological parents and that led me with people that weren’t so kind. I wasn't with them for long until I eventually found myself with people I don’t belong with - even as a child.”

You’re being vague and you’re positive that Jin understands this. 

“I had to do some horrible things just to survive. Thing’s children shouldn’t have to do.”

Jin listens, no longer eating his food. His eyes are watching you, awaiting for you to respond. 

“I wasn’t alone. I was surrounded by more children…they were my,” you put your fingers up to do finger quotations. “‘siblings,’ they said. I’m too young to remember any of them but I do remember the day we were rescued.” Jin furrows his brows. “Rescued?”

You nod your head. “I remember the two of them. I remember being so scared of them. They were adults and all the adults in my life ever did hurt me and my siblings. But they didn’t. They promised to help us…and they did.”

Your mind processes your memories, the blurred faces of the children and the two saviors who freed you all from captivity. “It’s unfortunate that I’ve never seen those kids again. I’m not sure if they’re still alive to this day but,” you exhale. “I truly do hope their lives got better. I prayed that they found peace and happiness in wherever life took them.”

Jin is quiet for a moment, probably taking in everything you’ve told him. You said a lot without speaking too much of the truth, not fully ready to address the early years of your life. You contemplate if you ruined the mood as speaking of your past could do that to anyone - even you at times. But you understand that Jin didn’t mean any harm and probably wasn’t expecting your past to be that chaotic.

“I see.” Jin says. He takes hold of one of his drinks - he ordered three, a coffee, a water and fresh-squeezed orange juice - and takes a sip. “I suppose we both had different childhoods.”

You raise an eyebrow. “My mother,” Jin drops his drink and blinks at you. You notice just how intense his eyes are - dark and nearly unreadable. “was a prostitute.”

You sit straight on your side of the booth, shoulders straightening as you listen to his speak.

“I’ve seen a lot of men come and go in my life and the same men take her life. I suppose you and I are somewhat the same. I was trafficked, sold to work in factories and warehouses alongside other children and even adults paying off their debts.”

Your eyes widened slightly, your mind swirling with flashbacks of your own past life and how you and the other children you grew alongside. You swallow the lump in your throat. To think Seokjin has gone through something similar like you and also managed to not allow his past to define his future.

“My mother had a long debt and since she was gone, I had to be responsible for it. I recall only sleeping a max of two hours before we were instructed to go back to work. The amount of times we’ve almost died working in such heinous conditions.” 

Jin speaks without a stutter or as much as a short break. His face remains stoic and you just wonder how much he’s been through to be so numb to it all.

“I suppose maybe that’s why the Ripper is so personal to me. He once targeted prostitutes before his reign of terror around the town had widened. The same sun that would shine bright in the sky appears to always be hidden by dark clouds.”

You can hear your heart beating so rapidly and it pounds right outside your chest. You take a deep breath to process it all.

This wasn’t going to be easy, you note. The Ripper was a sensitive subject for everyone- especially Jin. By the few hours you’ve come to know him, you realized that he worked such long hours in catching the Ripper and now you understand why. His childhood followed him into his adulthood ; working on little to no sleep, nonstop. There’s slight bags underneath his eyes, and yet he still manages to look refreshed and young.

“Thank you for telling me.” you speak after a few moments of silence. 

“I should be thanking you, as well, then.” Jin smiles with a tilt of his head. It causes your body to heat up slightly - but you weren’t here to act as a giddy teenager with a growing crush. “I’m glad we’re both getting to know one another. You are going to be my partner until we catch the Ripper. I do want us to be close.”

Jin leans forward and you’re caught completely off guard. You stiffen, his eyes boring into yours only making you a bit more awkward. 

“I really do appreciate you for coming here, Y/N. It isn’t safe for someone like you here.” Jin speaks truthfully. He wasn’t going to sugar coat anything for you, and for that you were grateful. “You’re putting yourself into harm's way is truly admirable.”

“It’s nothing.” you murmur, body still warm at his words - and even the tone of which he says them. “I’m not doing anything differently than you.”

“True, but,” Jin shakes his head. “Oakville is my town. You came all the way here to help us, and for that you deserved to be acknowledged.”

After all these years, you weren’t used to being praised. It always caused you to just stand awkwardly as you received them, but you cannot say that his praises didn’t cause a warmth fill throughout you. 

Slightly, you nod your head. You take a gulp of your drink, needing something to cool yourself off.

“I’m surprised I haven’t scared you off yet. I was hoping I would be able to steer you away from becoming…”

“A prostitute.” you finish the word for him. Understanding Jin’s childhood with his mother, it made sense as to why he didn’t want you to go undercover as one. “I’ll do whatever it takes to help catch the Ripper, Jin. I can handle whatever is thrown towards me. I’m sure we went through the same basic training in bootcamp.”

Jin chuckles with a nod of his head. He finally leans back into the booth. “I’m positive we have.” he responds. “I don’t wish to offend you. I just want you to be careful. If you ever need a way out, please, don’t hesitate to use Daniel to your advantage.”

You nod your head. Your stomach was satiated and you were glad that you had a chance to sit and speak with Jin on a deeper level. It made working alongside him better - more trusting.

Jimin was an interesting character and he made you nervous - you’re positive that he’s aware. You were expecting someone grimey and old; maybe not ancient old, but old enough to be that creepy uncle.

Jimin wasn’t old and you truly wish to ask for his actual age as it appeared he and you were around the same age. His skin is fresh and wrinkle free, almost like a porcelain doll. His lips are hydrated and plush. His face is sculpted perfectly, oval face shaped with narrowed chin and jawline. His hair is styled neatly, the silver tresses on top swooped on the right side of his head, the sides cut shorter than the top. It seemingly reflects off of the dim lights of the room you’re in.

Jimin’s eyes are what makes you the most nervous. They’re dark and they appear to be watching you closely, trailing up and down your body entirely as if looking for any imperfections. It’s hard to be confident underneath his gaze, but you had to remain as such.

You’ve been in Oakville for a week and finally managed to make it inside Jimin’s large estate. It’s cleaner than you would have imagined a brothel to be and the women are all welcoming and inviting. There’s an aura around them that shines brightly even underneath the dim lights of his estate.

Only you and Jimin stood in this large room and it appeared to be like an office. There’s a desk directly in front of a large window - it displays a beautiful scenery of woods behind it, the tree’s moving silently in the wind from the outside. The floors are hardwood and a dark mahogany that doesn’t squeak or squeal when you walk on them. 

There’s several paintings on the walls, most of which are of women and some are nude, but they aren’t lewd paintings as you might expect in a brothel. They’re artistic in a way and you recall hearing many people speak highly of art such as this.

“You like them?”

Your eyes snap back to the man in front of you. He’s still seated at his desk, leaning back with his arms placed in his lap as he stares right at you. His voice is as young as he looks, soft and calm. It has a level of coolness and sensuality to it that has you realizing why someone like him could be in this line of work.

“The art,” Jimin continues, glancing at the array of artwork on his wall. “do you like them?”

Slowly, you nod your head.  “They’re amazing.” you admit.

Jimin’s lip stretches into a low grin at your response. “It was once said by Michelangelo that the skin is more beautiful than the garments in which it is clothed.”

Jimin begins to tap his fingers against his thigh, again watching you closely. 

Daniel had insisted - apologize profusely, as well - that you needed to dress the part if you were going to impress Jimin. This is how you found yourself, clothed completely in white. Your stockings stop at your upper thigh, held up by a garter of the same color. Your bralette is laced and similar to your panties, a floral pattern stitched onto the fabric and hides just enough for you not to be fully exposed.

You didn’t wear lingerie and your undergarments were as basic as they come. You had gone out your way to buy some new ones when Daniel had warned you - going with white as it was the safest color for a situation such as this. 

“What’s your name?” asked Jimin.

“Y/N.” you answered truthfully.

“You’re not from here.” Jimin states. It wasn’t a question. Jimin is certain that someone like you wasn’t from Oakville - he’s lived in this town for years. “Where are you from?” “Nowhere, really.” you respond. “I haven't settled anywhere for too long.”

Jimin blinks and hums, mind taking in your response. 

“Why have you chosen Oakville, Y/N?” Jimin leans forward, hands placing themselves onto his desk. “Surely you’ve heard of the Ripper.”

You swallow. You had to act the part and appear slightly afraid - even if the Ripper had not frightened you. 

“I have.” you nod your head. “I assume if I stay in my own lane, I wouldn’t be his next victim.”

Jimin chuckles to himself, a boyish laugh that causes his eyes to turn smaller. 

“You’re right about that.” Jimin nods. “Working for me means that you’ll also be working for the Ripper. Do you know what that entails?”

That you’ll be one step closer to defeating the Ripper and stopping his reign of terror in the town of Oakville. Instead of stating that, you shake your head.

“It means you do what you are told.” Jimin stands, his chair scrubbing against the hardwood floor as he pushes his chair back. 

Jimin’s taller than you expected and he rounds the corner of his desk and stalks towards you. “It means that while you work for me, Y/N…” Jimin is in front of you now, tilting his head to peer at you with dark eyes. “...you’ll do as I tell you to. Turn around.”

Your shoulders are tense but you have no choice but to turn around. If anything, you’re sure you would be able to fight off Jimin if needed be - but you couldn’t resort to that just yet. You were undercover; expected to be nothing but a prostitute in their eyes. 

Your eyes are then covered by a silk fabric. It’s tied behind your head tightly and you lick your lips in nervousness. 

You know what you are expected to do, you think. If Jimin was going to invest in you, he needed to test out whatever product you were selling - that only meant your body.

“Turn back around.” Jimin’s cool voice speaks to you, his hands on your shoulders to guide you around to face him. 

Your mind is making up images as your eyes cannot see. Jimin removes his hands from you and takes a few steps back - you can hear his footsteps creak away, as if watching to see your reaction.

“Get on your knees.”

Jimin’s voice is farther and you are given no choice but to do as you are told. Your knees hit the cold hardwood floor, hands in your lap.

You hear the footsteps come closer again and you inhale a shaky breath as you feel warm hands on your chin. It lifts your head up as if to look at him.

“Working for me means you’ll be more privileged than any other prostitute.” Jimin words hit your heads, a thumb swiping across your bottom lip. “I want to see how good you are.”

Your heart is pounding now and your body heats up at the obvious sign of sex. You were going to have to make the first move - after all, you came to him.

Your hands reach out to touch him, finding his wrist. Your mouth opens slightly, tongue poking out to poke at his thumb. Your tongue twirls around his thumb idly, your grip on his wrist tightening. 

You lightly nibble on his thumb, your thighs pushing themselves apart as you inch closer to the man. Your hand trails from his wrist to reach out until you are sure you find his thigh. It would be easier if you could see, but you would have to manage.

There’s a bulge that you finally manage to find and it causes you to gulp once more - you were actually doing this. But there was no going back now. You were one step closer to the Ripper.

Your hand caresses the bulge in his pants, squeezing it into your embrace teasingly. 

“It looks like you want to taste something else.” Jimin states. 

“If you’d let me.” you retort, head lifting as if looking at him in the face - you wish you could.

“If you truly wanted to, you would. I’m not stopping you.”

Your hands trail up until they feel a belt buckle. It’s leather and it takes you a few tries until you manage to unbuckle it. Your hands tremble as they go to pull down his pants, breathing increasing.

“You look so scared, Y/N. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” you respond. “It would be easier if I could see you.”

“You made the impression that you’ve done this before. Have you not?”

Jimin speaks as if he knows you’re lying and that’s not something you wanted. Your life was on the line for this and you truly didn’t want to die this soon.

You don’t respond, and instead your hands proceed to tug at the briefs he wore until they are down. Your mind has to connect the dots that you cannot see.

Your hand finds his cock, the naked flesh already hard and warm. It pulses in your grasp and your thumb circles the tip of his cock to assure you had it in your possession. Without warning, your tongue licks up the slit as if licking a lollipop. It swirls around the tip, the salty taste of precum meeting your taste buds immediately. 

You wished that you would have taken something upon coming here - you knew what you would be getting into. A type of aphrodisiac of the sort so that you could enjoy yourself without the thoughts in the back of your mind.

You didn’t have time to think about your actions now, and instead wrap a hand around the base of his cock to continue sucking, your cheeks suctioning inward with each slurp. His cock is coated with saliva. You can hear him - short moans that have your ears perking at just the sound of them. You suppose it’s nice, as the sounds of his boyish moans shoot straight to your core - an act of service you indeed needed if you were going to go through this case.

Your palm begins to pump his cock, focusing more on the tip than anything. You’re sure you looked exactly like you were supposed to - exactly what they were looking for in a woman in this business. 

Your slurping increases, bouncing off of the walls of the quiet room. As your slurping increases, so do the moans he releases. It comes out in short breaths, dancing through your ears as a compliment that what you were doing was indeed working.

Your hand falls onto your lap and you widen your mouth to take more of him. You pop his cock from your mouth and lick your lips - you could taste pre-cum, the salty taste bitter in your mouth. “You’re such a tease.” your ears perk when Jimin finally speaks and you cannot help but believe that you had no effect on him. 

You gulp, breathing through your nose a bit. “I can’t help but believe I’m doing all the work.”

Your hair is gripped suddenly and without warning, he slides into your mouth. Your eyes widen behind the silk ribbon and you’re unable to react fully as he’s already sliding in and out of your mouth.

It’s rough, you note, and maybe your words set him off. With each thrust, it hits the back of your throat and you feel the need to gag, but you manage. Your fists clench in your lap, legs clenching together tightly for whatever friction you could get.

His moans increase, grunting and groaning with each thrust into your mouth. There’s drool dripping down your chin sloppily to match the forming tears in your eyes. The sounds that now echo across the room are filthy, suckling and gagging from you and his increased breathing.

“Ah, maybe you are a good whore, after all.” Jimin sing-songs, amused. “You’re excited, aren’t you?”

Your head is yanked back. If you could see, you would be looking up at the man now. His thrusts slow down and your mind has to connect the dots once more. You’re positive that he’s watching you, possibly admiring the way you look now; vulnerable and slutty - something a man like him would enjoy.

“I can see the way your legs clench together…” his words hit your ears once more, this time his tone is low and deeper. “...you like this, don’t you? A woman like you enjoys being treated like this…”

You cough when his cock is released from your mouth. Air finally hits your lungs and you take it all in as you’re unaware when you’d be able to process what’s coming next.

Again, you’re pushed. This time, you’re on your back and your legs and forced open. Your head crashed against the hardwood floor as hands touch and grip your skin with such greed. You’re unsure what to do and all you could do was whimper to yourself silently.

“You’re a whore, right, Y/N?” Jimin asks you. “Has anyone ever pleasured you?”

You feel pressure on your clothed clit - he was cupping it. Your stomach churns at the feeling; forbidden and dirty. You weren’t supposed to want this; you weren’t a whore. You were a detective, and for a moment you forget about the case entirely. 

“No…” you respond.

“Tsk,” Jimin murmurs. 

You whimper once more when you feel circular motions being rubbed onto your clit. The lacy fabric of your panties were beginning to stick to you and you feel utterly exposed to the man, now more than before. 

“Take them off.” Jimin suddenly commands. There’s a slight tug at your bralette. “I want you to strip for me, Y/N. After all, I’m paying you to be here, aren’t I?” You inhale, lifting yourself up from the cold hardwood floor to do as the man asks. Your bra falls off of you and without warning, your panties are tugged off, as well, a ripping sound sounding through your ears. 

“You look so scared.”

Jimin’s voice doesn’t have any concern in them. If anything, you could hear a tint of amusement. He got off by embarrassing you and other woman. To him, you were indeed a whore that needed him to succeed in life. You’ll make it your mission that he would be brought down alongside the Ripper.

“Whore’s usually…” you are pushed down against the floor once more. “...pretend they're with another man while doing this. Who are you pretending you’re with?”

Your mind flashes for a moment, seeing Seokjin. His dark eyes shining with concern at not wanting you to be here. He was kind, truly, and it hurts to think that he showed more concern for your safety than you had from your own.

“Tell me.” Jimin speaks again. “What’s his name? Is he a childhood friend? A former lover?”

“Jin.” you murmur, defeated. 

Jin was the first man that came to mind - if you were going to pretend you were with anyone, it could possibly be him. Back home, you devoted yourself to your cases. You worked alongside mostly women. There wasn’t any man in your life that you could think of in a moment such as this - besides Seokjin.

You haven’t known Jin long, but seeing as your relationship with most men were close to nothing, he was the top candidate. While you’ve been in Oakville for such a small amount of time, he was determined to keep you out of harm's way. He had given you a room in his home that also had its own bathroom for privacy purposes. He had allowed you to take over smaller cases that involved the Ripper’s henchmen and had treated you with respect - like an actual equal. He hadn’t been a typical man who would use their authority over you and for that, you were grateful of him.

Your skin prickles with goosebumps as a shiver runs down your spine.

“Jin…” Jimin says, the name trailing off his tongue. “Jin…who is Jin?”

You don’t give a response and after a few moments, he doesn’t care to hear one. His hands are upon your body once more and it causes you to flinch. His hands are softer than what you expected and they grip and tug on your naked flesh. 

Your breath hitches when those soft hands grip at your breast, pads of his thumbs pressing against your erect nipples.

Your thighs are forced apart and you can feel him between you - you assume his own thigh right where your heat is at. He presses it ever so gently against your clit, his palms squeezing your breast.

Maybe if you imagined it was Jin then things would be a bit better - you wouldn’t get too far into your head about what you were doing. You didn’t technically see Jin in a sexual light before; of course you’d admit that he was attractive. But whatever attraction your eyes enjoyed would not allow you to ruin what you were here for - not until now.

You gasp when a warm sensation runs through the skin of your neck - slimy and wet. You notice it immediately being his tongue. It swirls at the nape of your neck before trailing down towards your collarbone. He presses his clothed thigh harder against your clit, his left hand removing itself from your breast to place it onto your hip. He doesn’t speak and instead attempts to guide you.

He wanted you to rub yourself against him as if the moment wasn’t embarrassing enough. You do without a fuss, your eyes closed (even if they were bound by the ribbon) and imagining a kinder man that wasn’t Jimin.

Your hips buckle, rubbing yourself against his thigh. His tongue runs lower and lower. It’s right between your breasts now. The coolness of the large office causes your skin to shiver once more, body heating up.

There’s a groan from him. His left hand leaves your hip to then grasp your breast once more. This time, his tongue is connected to your hardened nipple and hungrily he suckles onto it. His right hand begins to pinch your other nipple with his index and thumb, tugging and pulling onto it.

You swallow back a moan, unable to control the way your body feels about receiving pleasure. You clench around nothing as you glide your clit against his thigh, all the way he continues to suckle slopping onto your breast.

He seems to be insatiable, moving onto your next breast to suck just as needily onto it as he did the first one. He now forces his thigh hard against you, right hand slapping your hips to grind even more.

You sigh, a shaky moan coming from your throat that has you embarrassed by how much you liked this. You know when it was all over that you would have a hard time looking at yourself in the mirror, but you were also aware of what you were getting yourself into.

Don’t think of Jimin, think of Jin, you tell yourself.

And as your mind thinks of the tall man with broad shoulders with such kind eyes, it makes it easier for you to touch him. Your hand places itself onto the back of his head, soft tresses greeting you. Your back arches slightly towards him and with that, you feel both of his arms engulf you entirely. His lips release your swollen nipple with a low pop and you can now feel his lips, so plump, press against your neck once more.

His teeth sink into your neck, biting down harshly - possessively. In reaction, you yelp, holding onto the back of his head for support. You can hear him breathing so intensely, getting into the moment just as you were.

“Ah-”

His hands are large, you note, ranking down your naked back as he pushed himself against you. Your thighs now cage his waist between your legs and you can feel how excited he is, a hardened bulge pressing right against your clit.

His tongue reappears, swiping over the spot he bit at, determined to leave a mark upon you no doubt. Just like before, his tongue makes its way down your collarbone, his head lowering. He goes past your breast before it stops at your stomach. This time, his lips press a kiss by your belly button.

This felt far too intimate and the part of you that knew that this wasn’t Jin was left confused - did Jimin do this with all the women he slept with? Was he always so intimate and sensual?

But in order to not be grossed out by the scenario, you pretend it’s Jin, and the thought causes you to relax. You give into the kisses, mouth opening slightly to allow a low moan to be heard. 

His kisses trail further, kissing your abdomen and it’s then you realize that he was going to be right between your legs. Your body is already hot while in the moment, heat radiating off of your skin like a furnace in the cool room. A part of you wanted to see him, but the other part didn’t want to ruin the fantasy.

He presses a kiss directly onto your clit. Your thighs quiver at the sudden action, inhaling a breath. He presses a few more kisses before his tongue licks a stripe up your slit. Your back arches once more at the foreign feeling. His tongue is so warm - warmer than it felt against your skin. 

He continues to lick between your folds, both hands forcing your thighs apart so that you’re unmoving. You don’t hide how good it feels - especially since your mind is connecting pieces that aren’t there. Your mind displayed images of Jin between your legs, ravishing you so hungrily; similar to the way he appeared at the dinner. His dark eyes would look up at you, watching the way you came undone on his tongue for him.

Your hand tangles into his soft hair, hips buckling to feel more of his tongue - and it’s as if he gives you exactly what you want from him. His tongue lays flat against your clit, allowing you to take a bit of control of your own pleasure.

With your free hand, you grasp your breast in a semi-tight hold. Your lips get caught into your teeth in an attempt to not be too loud.

There’s a slap onto your thigh and without much warning, your legs are pushed farther apart. They are brough upwards to your shoulders - a position you weren’t aware you could be put in - and he takes back his control. His tongue suckles onto your clit sloppily, his head weaving back and forth with such speed. 

Your groans increase higher and maybe that was his plan all along, to hear how good he’s making you. His wet suckling along with your cries soon echoes off of the walls, a filthy sound entirely.

Your mind flashes again, with Jin’s tongue buried so deep onto your pussy that it causes your skin to litter with goosebumps again, your pussy clenching around nothing.

“Ah…!” you shriek, genuinely surprised with the sudden pressure inside of you. 

He never gives any warnings. His fingers enter you whole, pumping greedily inside of you - he wants more. More moaning and groaning, more arousal to pool onto his tongue. 

More.

Your pussy is tight as it clenches around him and your thighs are quivering once more with pleasure, but he doesn’t allow you scurry away from him. His fingers are so long and they fuck into you with such experience, hitting spots you never knew existed.

You're humiliated with the squelching sounds your pussy makes, an obvious sign of how much you enjoyed it all - his tongue lapping between your folds causes severe overstimulation.

Your eyes squeeze shut harder, hips jerking. You’re breathing intensifies, your body appearing so much lighter than before. You can feel the slick pooling out of you.

“I-I can’t…” you try to speak, but it doesn’t go anywhere. You’re trembling with pleasure right now, and your mind can only display images of Seokjin fingers curling inside of you. He stares at you with those dark eyes that tell you to cum all over him without having to utter a single word.

“...gonna…cum…” your hand reaches out to push the man away when the feeling comes - a sudden urge to let loose. It’s not something you’ve ever truly felt before and you were frightened by what it  was.

The man doesn’t move as you expected. He removes his tongue from you and replaces it with his tongue instead, fingers drilling inside of you while his thumb rubs harshly against your clit. 

Your toes curl, your hand holding onto his soft locs in need as the feeling grows closer and closer. You don’t realize that there’s tears forming until they slide past the silk ribbon and onto your cheeks.

“P-Please…” you plead, sounding utterly pathetic. Your head dips back and you let the pleasure consume you entirely, pooling out all at once with a humiliating splash that hits against the floor. It sounds like water spilling, a disgusting sound as this was your first time experiencing anything like this.

You fall back against the floor, chest rising and falling. Slowly, you feel his fingers leave you and you feel so empty with them. Your legs shake, pussy clenching and unclenching. You've never experienced such a thing, your body enduring the aftermath of such an orgasm that has you feeling dirty.

Your body is being pulled once more, a sign that the man wasn’t done with you just yet. You are handled like a doll, legs forced apart once more. 

There’s another sensation against your clit - it’s already so wet that when it rubs against you, it squelches.

You knew it was time for him to fuck you - the tip of his cock inching closer and closer to your entrance. 

You’re more willing now, widening your legs. You are still seeing Jin in your mind and imagine that it is him. When he enters his cock inside of you, you gasp, back arching from the ground once more.

He enters you deep, allowing you to adjust to his size. You cannot help but groan, your hands reaching out to touch his wrists. His own hands dig into the naked flesh of your hips and for the first time in a while you hear his own groan.

Your breast bounces as he begins to thrust inside of you. He lifts your lower body up from the floor a bit to get a deeper entrance. He isn’t quiet in the slightest. With each deep thrust, there’s a groan after it.

You are positive that you aren’t meant to last long - not with the amount of pleasure you experienced in such a short amount of time. You’re so full of him, his cock ramming into you so fast and deep that you don’t have a time to react to it.

Your hands trail from his wrist to his arms, holding on for support. Your moans dance along with his and you cannot help but want to be closer to the man. You initiate the embrace first, lifting yourself up from the ground to wrap your arms around his neck.

The act causes the man to fuck you ever harder, hands gliding from your hips to wrap you in his own embrace. 

His shoulders are so broad, you note, and you rub onto them needily. Maybe it was the sex blinding you from the fact that this wasn’t Jin as Jimin didn’t have the same body - but the ribbon causes you to imagine that it was. It’s what has you moaning and begging him for more.

The ribbon blocking your sight is what has you licking onto his own skin hungrily as he fucks into you so good. It’s what has you buckling your own hips to meet his thrusts.

Your lack of sight of Jimin has you seeing Jin in your mind, and it causes your lips to meet his plump ones that are coated in your arousal. Your hands grip onto his hair as your tongue dances with his, your pussy clenching so tight around him that neither of you want to stop now.

You wonder what he sees. Maybe a girl once shy, turned so aroused that she’s pleading for more. She’s leaking all over the place, soft moans growing higher and higher until she’s nearly screaming.

He gives you exactly what you want him to, fucking into you with a stamina so great that it has you cumming all over him again, more hot tears streaming down your face pathetically.

He doesn’t last too long, either. His thrust becomes sloppy and he’s grunting into your ear so melodically. He manages to pull out of you, cumming right onto your stomach - it’s hot and the amount is alarming, but you allow it, your mind seeing Seokjin, so fucked out and full of lust that you are completely content with being used by someone that wasn’t him.

“Y/N…I wasn’t expecting to see you so soon.”

It’s been another week since you’ve last seen Jin.

Daniel nods his head before closing the door to his office.

Jin places whatever documents he’s going through down onto his desk and rounds it to come closer to you.

“Jin. Hello.” you greet him, nodding your head. “Mind if I have some coffee?”

“You don’t have to ask.” Jin snorts and nods his head yes. “How are you?”

You’ve adapted in Jimin’s mansion and had gotten your own room. It was luxurious and completely your own. 

After the day with Jimin, you were told to keep the ribbon on until he specifically told you to take it off. 

Looking Jimin in the eye was easier than you expected. He didn’t appear different or smug after having just fucked you. You assumed it was because he was accustomed to it already.

Looking Jin in the eye a week later is what frightens you. 

“Y/N.”

“S-Sorry.” you had poured coffee onto the counters. You grab several napkins to clean it up, blinking away the thoughts. 

“You seem so shaken up.” Jin places a hand onto your shoulder to grasp your attention. “Do you need me to find you a way out-”

“No.” you shake your head, turning to look at him. You swallow when you look into his eyes - the same dark eyes you’ve seen in your mind constantly.

“You don’t look good, Y/N. Is everything…alright?” Jin doesn’t want to dig deeper into what you’ve gone through the past week, unsure of where he should inject himself. “I don’t want you to get too deep into something that isn’t for you.”

You offer Jin a short smile.

“I’m…not a prostitute.” you murmur to Jin who nods - he knows that. Whatever you had to do while undercover was just that. He would never label you as such.

“Jimin…he keeps me around as his maid. So he says.” you admit. “Said I was…too good…to be a prostitute.”

Your body burns now with even more embarrassment. Jin’s ears are red and he nods his head. “I’m glad.” Jin admits, a part of him content that you wouldn’t have to be selling yourself for the sake of the case. He isn’t sure how to put what he feels into words at times, you note. “I just want you to be safe, Y/N.”

You continue to clean up your mess, your mind racing. 

You were a detective - you’ve managed and solved several cases. You’ve gone undercover countless times.

And yet…

This was the straw that broke the camel's back?

You didn’t want things to be awkward between you and Jin as you still had a job to do at the end of the day. Yet, it was difficult being around him when you had to have him on your mind in order to sleep a little better at night; in order to not feel so shitty about yourself.

“I’m able to handle myself, Jin.” you murmur, pouring a few sugar packets into your coffee and grabbing a little straw to stir it. “Jimin doesn’t suspect that I’m nothing but a whore.”

“A maid.” Jin corrects, knitting his brows.

“Right.” you scoff. “A maid. There’s going to be a gathering this weekend at the mansion. I was told that several high-ranking individuals would be attending.”

Jin nods his head slowly as he processes the information.

“I don’t think the Ripper would be there, however.” you admit, taking a sip of your coffee and humming when it hits your throat. “He appears to be…an entity. People speak of him but no one’s ever seen him. I’ve asked a few women who work for Jimin-”

“Y/N, you have to be careful!” Jin interjects. “You’re the new girl there who managed to be a maid instead of a prostitute. You don’t think women are pining for your position?”

Your eyes connect with his and instantly, your mind replays you the events of the week prior - how content you felt being with him even if it wasn’t with him.

You take a deep breath before nodding your head. “You’re right.” you murmur. “I’ll be more careful.

Jin stands straighter. “Thank you.” he responds. “I do appreciate your dedication, Y/N. I don’t want to be so hard on you.”

You take another sip of your coffee after blowing on it a few times. “I can handle whatever you throw at me, Jin. I’ve worked alongside harsher men.” you place your cup back onto the counter and lean against it with crossed arms. “Back to the gathering. It’s being held in a neighboring town instead of Oakville.”

Jin furrows his brows. “Oh?”

“Yes.” you nod. “They never have any form of gatherings in Oakville incase of…you know, you.” you slowly grin his way. “Having so many people come to a small town suddenly raises questions that they don’t want to answer.”

Jin returns your grin - an act that causes the hairs on your arm to raise.

“Uh...I’ll give Daniel the details when I get them.” you avert your eyes to the ground. “I’m sure we can get the neighboring town police force in on what is happening and go forward with the raid that way?”

Jin nods his head. Without warning, he places a hand on your head. He pats it, almost as if he was patting a small child's head. Your head slowly turns toward him for answers. “Good job.” he chuckles, a twinkle in his eye. “I have to admit having you on the team has made my life a lot easier. No one has such great ideas as you do.”

Your heart begins to pump faster and mentally, you’re screaming at yourself to stop acting like such a pathetic little girl with a growing crush. This was nothing but an attraction for your lack of love and (former) sexual life. Maybe you craved attention you never got - not even as a child - so any form of it was making you weak.

Jin’s hand slowly slides from the top of your head down to your cheek. Your skin is even hotter, unaware of what to do in this situation.

“I’m always here, Y/N. If you ever need anything.” Jin assures, years ears perking at the sound of his voice that any background noise seemingly dies down. “Just ask and I’ll do my best to deliver.”

Your lips part and a shaky breath releases. You begin to nod your head at his words, swallowing down a gulp. His eyes are so intense and you couldn’t truly read them. They scan your face for any form of reaction, possibly reading right through the facade you’re attempting to put up.

“I want you to be safe, as well.” you testified, your hand placing over his - still resting on your cheek lazily. “You can call upon me, as well. If you need me to do anything while on the inside.

“Let’s catch the Ripper.” Jin hums, that familiar twinkle in his eye returning once hearing your words.

“Is this a gathering for important people?” you ask as you fix Jimin’s tie, your eyes fixed on the piece of fabric. “Or do you usually dress this way for them?”

Jimin’s attire has always been up to par, you’d admit. The suits he adorned were always tailored to fit him perfectly. You were advised to hand-wash his clothing and let them air dry before ironing them just the way he showed you how as he was specific about how he wanted his clothing to present him.

Jimin tilts his head just as you were done with his tie. “Is this your way of flirting with me?” he teases, a smirk forming onto his lips.

You take a deep breath and put on a smile that wouldn’t reach your eyes. You’d play nice for now for the case. You lightly tap his chest as that was the only response you were willing to give. 

“It’s a gathering, yes. But also a meeting.” Jimin speaks, strolling towards a small, rectangular box in his bedroom and opening it. It’s where he kept most of his expensive watches. “We have a lot to discuss, Y/N.”

A meeting? Your mind racks through different ideas and possibilities - would the RIpper be at this meeting? Of course not, you think, most of his henchmen never even saw him in person and surely would not start now. 

“You’ve been with me long enough to know the struggles we are facing, I assume.” Jimin places his watch onto his wrist as he speaks. ��Our men are being arrested. Prostitutes not doing what I am paying them to.” he shakes his head. “It’s so hard to find decent help.”

You want to boast that you were the reason that the men in their “gang” were being arrested - thanks to you and Daniel. You had given information to Jin about whereabouts; when shipments would be coming and days where they would be causing havoc before it happened.

Prostitutes were escaping - also thanks to you - this lifestyle. Majority of them were young and had never spoken to anyone with positivity who encouraged them to be better. It wasn’t an easy task to do and you still had hundreds of women to speak with, but you were determined to do just that.

“I’m sorry to hear that.” you tell Jimin, lying through your teeth. “I wish there was something I could do to help.”

Jimin’s eyes flicker to you when you respond. He hums. “There is.” he says. “Just do as you’re told.”

You nod your head slowly, licking your lips.

The journey to your destination wasn’t a long one, only about an hour. You arrived alongside Jimin and a few men while the other remaining prostitutes arrived separately. You were surprised to find that the gathering would be held in what appears to be a theater. The inside is clean and pristine with high ceilings with such amazing white lighting that shines down on the bodies surrounding you. There’s rows upon rows of seating available, even ones upstairs in booths. The stage is right at the center, tall and grand and you ponder just how many theater performances have been right here.

“You,” Jimin catches your attention, placing a hand at the low of your back. “represent me, Y/N.”

You understood as such when Jimin had chosen your clothing - a dress that is entirely too long that you often find yourself nearly tripping if you weren’t so quick on your feet. It’s a dark maroon color to match that of his suit and for some odd reason, you adorn a corset that was tied by Jimin himself to shape your figure, it’s laced and tied behind your back. 

“You’ll be serving us tonight.” Jimin begins to steer you away and into a room to the right. It’s a bar area where rows of drinks are set up ready to be served. “Just make sure people’s cups are full. Easy enough for you?”

You nod once more, eyeing the cups. You assume they’re wine mixed with more - something to have the girls and whatever attending this gathering be more loose. You cringe at the thought.

The night drags on and you do as you’re told, serving people as they mingle. You shouldn’t be surprised to see familiar faces - officers from other neighboring towns, high police officials and politicians alongside mayors. They all funded the Ripper - you’re unsure as to why but that didn’t stop you from collecting the desired intel needed. You had their faces and names locked deep in your mind, the case only growing larger. 

Your eyes catch Daneil from across the theater. He’s sipping his own drink, looking around the same as you are. You ponder if he notices anyone familiar or something off about those who are attending.

The theater is loud with chatter and laughter, prostitutes being seated in the laps of powerful men. You take another deep breath.

“Excuse me,”

There’s a loud voice - Jimin’s - followed by clapping. He strolls onto the stage and makes a grand entrance that has you rolling your eyes. 

“Y/N, please serve our guest the specialty wine of the night.”

You stand a little straighter as Jimin calls for you. You go into the backroom to find the wine he was speaking of. It’s a dark color of crimson on a medium sized silver platter. It took you longer than you desired, especially with the waiting eyes of the attendee’s around you, but once the last glass was full, you scurried off to the side.

“Thank you all for coming.” Jimin begins, his clapping together. “It’s been too long since we have been together. Just like old times.”

There’s a few murmurings of agreement.

“As you know, however, there's been a slight…inconvenience to our operation.” Jimin’s tone lowers and you assume he’s speaking of several of his men being arrested and the police force - that’s not involved with the Ripper - was zoning in on them.

“It’s nothing we cannot handle, surely.”

You turn to the sound of the voice - an officer. Maybe this is why they’ve never been caught before. Having officers on the inside was a smart move from such a sick man like the Ripper.

“As I thought.” Jimin nods. “However, we’re also losing our girls. With these men being arrested and charged every other day and whore’s leaving…”

You lick your lips, scoffing to yourself. This is what the gathering was about - trying to find ways to stop the decline of their operation? 

“I have a shipment coming from out of the country.”

A shipment from out of the country…?

You gasp to yourself at the statement. The man was a mayor not from Oakville, but elsewhere. They were trafficking girls from outside the country - how they managed to do a thing, you’re unsure. The thought makes your skin crawl, your mind flashing of your past and what you had to endure alongside your “siblings”. 

“That’ll help.” another member of this cult - because this couldn’t be anything but - has said. He has a girl seated in his lap as he speaks, his hand rubbing onto her thigh.

“It’ll help. But,” Jimin appears stoic. His eyes glance around the room as if in search of someone. “Let’s raise our glass and drink to the Brotherhood.”

As you expected. This was some sort of sick cult of elitists. The Ripper wasn’t the only sick individual as he was surrounded by much more. 

“To the Brotherhood.” the surrounded men all state in unison. Your eyes meet Daniel’s once more and not that he had not lifted his cup to drink anything.

What comes next is what shocks you. As the men all take their drinks, it’s followed by sudden screeching. Chao’s ensues and you could only watch in horror as things began to go haywire.

Coughing and gagging are heard, followed by the screams of the prostitutes who all scurry away and surrounding one another. Several men fell to their knees and began to vomit their guts out, blood pooling from their noses.

“W-What-”

“There has been a traitor among us…”

That voice is different. It’s not Jimin’s, you note. It comes directly behind you all and it takes everything in you to not freeze in your stature. 

A man, tall and covered from head to toe in dark clothing. His trenchcoat is black and leather and sways behind him as he trails down the carpeted stairs to reach the stage. He’s sporting a mask that covers his face entirely. It’s ghostly and adorns an expressionless expression.

“One of you,” the man says, coming even closer. “has betrayed me.”

It happens entirely too fast. He lunges at the prostitutes, a large dagger in his hand and manages to stab one directly in the heart. The other’s scream, crying to get away from his attack - but none of them manage.

It’s a shocking sight to behold - the men are slowly dying, obviously poisoned…by you.

You feel sick to your stomach having been a part of such a sick set up.

The Ripper is here.

The Ripper is here.

Your eyes blink several times, as if trying to comprehend what you’re witnessing is true. He is so brutal in the way he murders the prostitutes without a care. They’re thrown around like ragdolls, being, blood seeping from such quick attacks upon their skin.

Your mind is racing, eyes darting all around the room. It was pure chaos - utter havoc. The screams only grow louder and louder.

“S-Stop!”

You found your voice, going to screech as loud as you can to grab the attention of the man. Your heart nearly stops when, ever so slowly, he turns towards you, knife raised. Crimson blood seeps off of it and drops onto the carpet. 

You swallow, taking a step back when the man stalks towards you. 

You’re unsure what you imagined yourself doing in a situation such as this, never truly expecting to be in it. You thought of ways of figuring out who the Ripper was and what you’d do if you ever came face to face with him - but now you appeared to cower.

You had witnessed a massacre right before your eyes. You were a part of it, having served these same people with poison.

“Y/N, what did I say earlier?” Jimin’s voice rings through your ears and before you could process anything, you’re being pushed harshly onto the ground. Your head nearly crashes against it but you catch yourself. “Just do as you’re told.”

You exhale a frightening breath, eyes slowly looking upwards at the man, knife clenches in his gloved hand. He’s looking down at you, almost as if waiting for you to react.

You weren’t a prostitute or a maid.

You were a detective. 

You have trained for years to be where you were at. 

You had come to Oakville to bring down such a horrid person - you couldn’t just lay here and cower.

It takes far more strength than expected, but neither of the two men - the Ripper and Jimin - were expecting you to react so quickly, or at all. You attack the man's legs, bringing him to the ground with you in an attempt to get the knife out of his hand.

Your hair is being pulled, yanked harshly. Your eyes clenched shut and your hands immediately clasp onto your hair. You can feel your body being dragged against the carpeted floor.

Your heart thumps, pounding into your ears. You couldn’t contain the low grunts coming from your lips, pain shooting throughout your body as you continue to be dragged so violently by the Ripper.

“Now why shouldn’t you be killed for your actions, Y/N?”

Jimin’s voice oozes with disappointment, like a superior upset with their students' actions as he steps off of the stage. 

You were finally released and pushed aside roughly. Your head throbs but you whip it around to look at the tall man. You cannot see his eyes and they appear to be pitch black holes of nothingness staring right back at you.

Daniel is looking between Jimin and the Ripper, his own heart thumping in his chest and he’s visibly trembling. This is his first time meeting the man in person. He was stunned at the sudden appearance of the murderer slaining people in plain sight - only when you were in trouble did he snap back to reality. “S-Sir!” he speaks forward, stepping closer to where you three stood. “I-I can take her back to the-”

“Get the fuck out.”

You don’t blame Daniel for being terrified and you could only be upset with yourself if this is how you did die. You could only hope that Daniel wouldn’t meet the same fate. 

Your chest heaves, your eyes fixed on the Ripper who seemingly is staring right back at you. 

Daniel’s mouth shut once he heard Jimin’s stern tone. His eyes flicker to you onto the ground, trying your best not to cower away, but even he was frightened of what would happen to you if he left.

“Are you deaf or stupid?” Jimin snorts, shaking his head a bit. “Get the fuck out! Wait for us outside.”

You can hear footsteps scurrying away, going farther and farther, and yet your eyes never leave the ghoulish mask of the Ripper.

Jin, if you managed to make it out alive, was surely going to be upset with you. You had managed to come face to face with someone so heinous - and piss them off to the point that it might just lead you to your death.

“She’s a feisty one. I like her.” Jimin is leaning against the stage with his arms crossed. “She’s different….not a whore in the slightest.”

You swallow, your eyes remaining on the dark sockets of his mask. You didn’t want to give yourself away or appear suspicious.

What did Jimin mean that you weren’t a whore in the slightest? Did he know who you were - no. He couldn’t have. He would have gotten rid of you if he did.

Still, why keep you around if he knows you weren’t a part of this world? Just what was he planning on doing?

“What say you, Y/N?”

“Are you going to kill me?”

You didn’t waste any time. If you were going to die here, you’d make sure you had the chance to fight back.

“If he wanted you dead, you’d be dead already.” Jimin looks bored as this was not entertaining in the slightest. You and he stared at one another, as if daring the other to strike first - no one had. “You look determined to survive. How about this…we all love a little game.”

Your first clench at your sides. You weren’t in the mood to be toyed with - especially not when you’re at such a disadvantage.

“You make it out of here alive, Y/N…we pretend none of this ever happened, yeah?”

For the first time in who knows how long, you glanced at Jimin, the Ripper in the corner of your eye becoming a blurred figure. 

“I’ll be making my leave…”

Jimin begins to stroll away, a strut in his walk. 

“W-Wait!” you call, looking back at the Ripper. “Where are you-”

“I’m not going to be here. If you want to live, you’ll escape yourself. You know where to find me if you survive.”

You let out a low gasp as his footsteps clogged your mind, his words replaying over and over  - and over again. Your eyes slowly turn back to the tall man a few feet away from you. It’s eerily silent, only the theater door opening and closing behind Jimin.

You were powerless and had not a weapon on you. Your mind races of ways to survive this. You were positive that if he didn’t want you dead then, by now he surely did.

You barely have a second to process when he suddenly lunges at you. You throw yourself to the side and manage to get onto your feet.

Your dress is entirely too long to function properly and you ponder if this was Jimin’s initial intention. 

Your hands scrunch up the dress so you could run freely.

He’s swinging the knife as it slices the air close to you. You continue to dodge, finding that this would be the easiest option instead of trying to attack the man head on. 

“You’re a coward!”

You hiss at the man after managing to dodge another attack, this time it slices at your side and fortunately slices the dress and not your skin.

“Attacking women because you cannot take on a man!”

Maybe it wasn’t smart to taunt someone hellbent on killing you - and if not killing you, at least hurting you. However, you weren’t going to give him the satisfaction that you were frightened to your core at the disadvantage.

“I know men like you.  I’ve dealt with men like you.”

You round a corner, a beam separating you and him. His attack stops and you’re met with his eyeless stare.

“Weak.” you spit, your hands clutching onto your dress for support. “You take your pathetic anger out on innocent women simply because your life is miserable. Were you rejected…maybe…”

Your breathing increases, determined to stay alive.

“...Mommy issues?”

The man attacks again, this time dropping his knife to come at you full force. You should have expected it and could only blame yourself when both of his gloved hands crashed onto your face. You’re forced backwards until your back hits against a wall.

Your hands punch along his chest - it’s broad, you note, a thought that he was a man of either great strength or smart enough to wear protection beneath his clothing. 

You weren’t doing any damage to him and he gave you little room to do so. His body pressed against yours. Your face throbs beneath his clenching hands.

You wheeze when you’re pushed away, back slamming against the wall once more. Without warning, you’re turned around, your cheek now pressed to the cold, theater wall and his right hand clasp around your neck. 

Your hand reaches back to attack him once more, an attempt to claw at him to release you.

No man should have strength like this - this was inhumane. 

“Let…me…go…”

It was getting hard to breathe.

Your body tenses up when you feel him press up against you sickly, your mind going to the darkest possibilities of what he was going to do to you if you didn’t escape him.

“...fight me like a-”

His gloved hand reaches upward to clasp against your mouth while his free one grasps your waist harshly. You’re pulled from the wall and suddenly, slammed onto the ground. Your head crashes against the carpeted floor and before you could react, you feel pressure on top of you.

There’s a knife pointed to your throat, dangerously close. You can feel the cool tip prepared to slice against your skin.

“Hurry up and kill me.”

You weren’t going to give him what he wanted. It’s obvious that he wanted you to cower before him and beg for your life - but you weren’t.

If you were going to die, then so be it. But you would not feed into his ego. 

The man tilts his head, eyeless sockets staring right at you. 

The man comes closer to you, his masked face inches from yours.

You swallow, remaining whatever eye contact you could.

The knife pinches your skin a bit, trailing from your neck to your collarbone. It stings -  but not the way you thought it would have. It feels more like a papercut slicing through delicate skin.

It pierces through the fabric of your dress, slicing ever so slowly - as if  to taunt you. Your lower half is constricted, but your arms are free.

“Get off-” you hiss, your hands balling into fists and you throw a harsh jab at the masked cheek. It was just the amount of reaction you needed to kick him away from you, freeing yourself from beneath you.

You begin to crawl backwards, your eyes not leaving his figure as you struggle to get to your feet. Your breathing has increased tremendously. “Fuck you!” you spit, stumbling further away from him. You needed to grab a weapon - any weapon.

As you were rushing away to find said weapon, the masked man lifts himself up, knife gleaming in the lowlights of the theater. 

You’re behind the bar now, grasping the largest bottle of alcohol you could find and hurling it at him, then another. The third bottle you grasps you slam against the large bar island, the sharp now being used as your own weapon. The excess alcohol splashes against you, but you don’t move your eyes from his. 

You duck just as the man attacks, the knife swiping right above your head and with instinct, you thrust your own weapon towards him. 

“Ah-!” you swing it once more and with each swing, the man dodges it. “Get,” swing. “away,” swing. “from me!” you scream, swinging once more, but the Ripper’s glove hand catches your wrist. 

Your free hand is quick, however, grasping the nearest bottle and smashing it against the man's head. 

The Ripper stumbles back, the alcohol shattering and the liquid staining his clothes.

You know well enough that the attack would only stun him, not fully halt him. You toss another, this one hitting him directly in his masked face. 

Your eyes move around with great speed, wondering what you could do next - what weapon could be used upon him to save your life and the life of others.

Your eyes catch them, the small, square box of matches.

You swallow, your body moving before your brain could fully process what you were doing.  Your hands are slippery as you grasp them, but you knew exactly what you were going to do. 

You struck the match, the small flame illuminating against your face. Your eyes meet the Rippers eyeless ones and you tilt your head. 

“I won’t allow you to kill anymore people.” you say to him, almost as if he would care what you would say to him. 

You fling the match and, almost as in slow motion, does it fall onto the pile of alcohol behind the bar and directly in front of him. 

The flames spark immediately and you attempt to make this your exit. You had no idea how long you’d have, especially with the flames growing larger and larger, but you understood that you had to make your way out somehow. 

You’re positive that Jimin is long gone, having no hope of you ever making your way out alive.

The fire spread rapidly and quicker than expected was the entire scenery full of smoke. Your eyes begin to water and your throat clog up. All your ears could hear were the cracking of the flames surrounding you, unsure if this was your final moment alongside the Ripper - and if it truly was, then you couldn’t be upset with yourself.

You promised that you would stop the Ripper - that his reign in Oakville would come to an end. You promised Seokjin that his once quiet and safe town would return to just that, not realizing that your life would also be a part of that promise.

“What the fuck were you thinking?”

Your chest felt heavy, as if someone was seated right on top of you. Your head is pounding, an increasing pain at all angles that even with your eyes closed, it feels as if the room is spinning.

You were trying so desperately to open your eyes - to see what the fuck was going on like the voice was speaking.

“Y/N?”

Y/N.

Y/N.

The voice appears far away, like a distant echo. You recognize the voice - Seokjin.

Where were you?

Where was he?

Why was everything so dark?

Seokjin presses a hand to your shoulder, squeezing it gently as your eyes begin to flutter open, completely glossy and dazed. The oxygen mask clings onto you, assisting in your breathing.

“You’re finally awake.” Jin sighs, closing his eyes for a few moments. “Can you hear me, Y/N?”

You cough, as expected, and Jin waits for you for him to continue.

“Jin…” you cough once more, your eyes wandering around to where you were at. “...how-”

“Are you fucking insane, Y/N?!” Jin hisses, his once soft eyes now enraged. “I had to hear from Daniel that you came face to face with the Ripper?!”

Daniel.

Jimin.

The Ripper.

Your mind swirls with what happened. Where was Jimin? Had the Ripper survived the fire since you had - did he manage to escape?

“Jin.” you begin to lift yourself up from the bed and Jin shakes his head. “I-”

“You are not capable of going anywhere, Y/N! You’ve literally survived a fire!” Jin nearly screams. 

“Where is he?” your throat is aching, but you had to know what was going on. “Where’s Jimin-”

“Gone.” Jin grits his teeth. “We…don’t need to worry about Jimin anymore, Y/N. Focus-”

“Gone?” your hands reach up at the hospital mask and you begin to lift it from your face. “Gone where? Has he been arrested or-”

“He was gone by the time we arrived, Y/N!” Jin doesn’t want to take out his frustrations upon you, but you were acting daft. His hands slap yours away from the oxygen mask and he places it back where it was once located. “Obviously he had no intention of you escaping the Ripper. Daniel told me as much as he knows.” Jin explains. “The theater is burned to the ground, Y/N. You’re lucky to even be alive.”

You inhale, the information clogging your brain.

Jimin was gone - as expected. Who else managed to escape?

“The Ripper…” you trail off. 

“There wasn’t another body recovered in the fire.” Jin murmurs back, eyes blinking away. “And right now, Y/N, I don’t care about the Ripper.” he shakes his head. “You could’ve lost your life right then and there. I…”

Jin turns away from you and you understand that this would weigh on his shoulders. Your heart jolts at the thought of Jin and what guilt he may be feeling. 

“I’m capable of taking care of myself, Jin.” you inhale. You could still hear the harsh cracking of the fire as it spread throughout the theater. “I did this for the case-”

“Fuck the case, Y/N!” Jin’s eyes turn back to you, dark ones staring right into your own. “I wouldn’t have cared if the Ripper was still alive and well as long as you made it out of there alive.”

Jin swallows, inhaling deeply.

“I don’t…I don’t want to blame you. It isn’t your fault, Y/N. You couldn’t have known but…” Jin blinks a few times, trying to find the words to say to you. “...I don’t want you on this case, anymore. It’s too risky and-”

“What?”

You look pathetic, barely able to raise your voice past a hoarse whisper. 

“You’re off the case.” Jin repeats. “Don’t fight me on this, Y/N. I’m-”

“I’m not getting off the case. I-”

“I want you to stay in Oakville.” Jin interrupts, raising his voice to challenge your own. “I want you to stay here. With me.”

You swallow, throat aching for some water but all you could think about are Jin’s words at the moment. 

“I want you to be safe.” Jin begins. “And I can only assure your safety if you’re here with me. Jimin is gone and the majority of the Ripper’s men have since been arrested.”

You sniffle, eyes roaming Jin’s face.

“I…”

“I won’t force you.” Jin shrugs his shoulders, a bit awkwardly. “I…have grown to like your company. I would like you by my side. Here. With me.” he murmurs, hoping that his words - as vague as they were - would have you understand what he truly wants from you. “I appreciate all that you’ve done for the case but now I just want you to fall back. Heal and-”

“I’ll stay.” you nod your head, swallowing back the lump in your throat; that or it was soot, who knows. 

“Good.” Jin licks his lips. “Good.” he sighs in relief, glad that he didn’t have to fight too hard. You were a stubborn one and in a way, he likes it. Not when your life is put into a compromising situation, however. 

As days dragged onto weeks and weeks dragged onto months, your mind can do nothing but wander to Jimin and how someone of his status could just disappear into thin air. The streets of Oakville were slowly returning to how Jin said they were once before - safe and homely. There was very little crime and death was at an all time minimum unless caused by natural causes. 

The once ringing telephone in Jin’s office now laid silent most days and it was just as it was before, peaceful. You began to think that maybe the Ripper was truly gone; that Jimin would never return to Oakville as it was far too risky.

The Ripper’s name was uttered as something in the past - somewhat like a folktale. The town of Oakville now allowed the sun to shine bright above their small, happy town. 

“Are you sure you don’t want to return to your own town?” Jin asks as he sets down your boxes onto the ground of his apartment. It’s labeled “kitchen”. “I don’t want to force you here with me.”

“Are you telling me you want me to go?” you tease, placing a smaller box on top of the one he sat down and cross your arms. 

“Of course not.” Jin scoffs with a playful roll of his eyes. “I just don’t want to remove you from your home.”

“Oakville is my home now.” you uncross your arms to throw a jab at Jin’s side, an act that he dodges effortlessly, smooth hands grasping your wrist to bring you closer to him. 

You’re unsure how you’d ever explain to someone how you and Jin got closer with one another after the death - or disappearance - of the Ripper. His admission to wanting you by his side was just the first (awkward) step. You working alongside him constantly was another step of you two getting closer, mixed with shy glances and awkward encounters in his home. 

“What are you thinking about?” Jin questions, arms wrapped loosely around you. “And don’t say nothing, either. I know you.”

“Sure.” you scoff, but it was true. Jin did know when your mind was clouded with a thousand thoughts at once. “Jimin…”

“Ah, of course.” Jin rests his forehead against yours. 

“You think I’m foolish to keep thinking about him, huh?” you snort. 

“No, of course not. It’s in your nature.” Jin responds. “Jimin is like…an unsolved case to you. You’re fiending-”

You pinch Jin in the chest slightly and he yelps.

“Hey!” Jin flinches but chuckles heartily at your reaction. “It’s the truth! You’re just a determined detective.”

Jin squeezes you a bit. “It’s not your fault. I want to know where the bastard went, myself. But dwelling on it would only drive me insane.”

Jin leans his head back to scan your face. He inhales deeply, a smile slowly creeping onto his lips. 

“I like to think Jimin met his demise. That he’s somewhere laying in a ditch. It’s easier to accept that he could still be out there in another town alive and well.” 

“Ugh,” you groan and throw your head back. It’s easier for Jin to not care about things such as this - maybe it was because he was a man. Men tend to lack any form of sense. 

Jin is quick to press his lips against your neck, plump lips kissing the spot he knows would be your sweet spot.

“Just forget about Jimin and everything else for now.” Jin murmurs.

“We’re supposed to redecorate…!”

“We have all week for that.” Jin exclaims. “It isn’t like there’s a lot of crime, Y/N.”

You hated when Jin was being logical. There was a lot of time on your hands as Oakville has become such a safe haven for the townspeople again. 

“How about you,” Jin’s lips crash against yours to silence you and you’re only partially surprised. “mph, just go lock up downstairs and-”

“Ugh,” Jin groans but he knows you’re right. He has already told several officers that they could go home early. Business had really slowed the last few months. “fine.” he sighs. “Then we’ll pick up where we started?”

You nod your head, a glint in your eyes that has Jin excited. 

Your eyes follow as Jin scurries out the door, his footsteps growing more faint with each passing step. You release a sigh, your body radiating heat. 

“Let’s see what I can do while Jin is locking up.” you speak to yourself, eyes roaming to the array of boxes until your eyes catch one.

Jin had insisted that he move the boxes full of items you didn’t use into the attic. They’re filled with memorabilia mostly instead of day to day items. 

You grab a chair to open the attic door to the ceiling, the stairs squeak as you drop them down onto the ground. A bit of dust catches your nostrils and instantly, you sneeze.

You grasp the box and begin to slowly ascend the attic stairs. It’s dark mostly, but your phone light is all you truly needed to not be completely creeped out by the scenery. 

There’s already boxes up there - expected seeing as Jin did state he kept the area as storage. You place your box down on the ground and grasp your flashing phone from on top of it. You scan the area, not finding anything out of the ordinary. There’s rows of boxes all closed and on top of one another, your camera finding that there’s an insane amount of dust covering the top of it that indicates that neither of them has been opened in years.

Though, your eyes catch a chest that is the only item inside the attic that isn’t covered in dust and grime and you hum. Your feet stroll towards the chest, kneeling down to shine your flashlight right at it. It’s wooden and a mahogany color, the top drawer slightly cracked open.

Your free hand pulls at the drawer to open, shining the light inside. It’s nearly  empty, aside for a few pieces of jewelry, you note, and what appears to be picture’s facing down.

“Is this an invasion of privacy…?” you ask yourself but your hand grabs at the pictures either way.

They’re old pictures and now you think they're of Jin in his youth. Your eyes scan each passing photo, more and more children coming into each frame. 

Your eyes stop at one in particular, dozen of children standing in front of what appears to be a warehouse-like building. 

Your eyes blink a few times before squinting.

“What…?” you murmur, orbs staring at a familiar face of you, right in the corner of said picture. You recall the exact outfit you wore that day, covered in mud and grime. 

You swallow, slamming the picture down into the drawer. Your heart is pounding and your head is swirling with far too many emotions to count. 

Your eyes catch onto the next photo and your heart sinks at who.

Jimin.

Jimin and Jin.

They’re young - possibly teenage years. However, they’re both smiling ear to ear with arms wrapped around the other’s shoulder.

Your breathing increases.

“Jin…”

Your ears hear him - Jin. He isn’t home yet, however he will be. He’s just down the hall and you sprint out of the attic. Your nerves are causing you to shake violently and you’re truly unaware how you managed to close the attic door and put the chair back to where it belonged as he entered. 

“I’m back. Do you think we should order a…” Jin’s eyes turn to you and instantly, he freezes. “...pizza...? Is something…wrong?” He tries to laugh but nothing is amusing.

“Huh?” you try to sound unfazed, but you know you look as though you’ve just seen a ghost. 

“Is everything okay?” Jin steps closer to you and without thinking, you step back. 

“Yeah.”  you nod your head. You touch your forehead with the back of your hand. “I’m…just feeling tired.” you lie. “And…hot. I need a-”

“Y/N.” Jin takes another step forward and with each step, you take one back. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

You swallow.

Jin and Jimin knew one another. They were friends the least.

Jin knows you - for fuck sakes you knew Jin. You’ve blocked out your past life as much as you can that you completely forgot your ‘brothers and sisters’ and now Jin stands before you, reminding you everything of the past life you wished to keep behind you.

“Y/N.” Jin repeated, this time his voice was deeper and more stern.

“How did you know where to find me?” you ask Jin. “When…the fire broke out?”

“Daniel told me.” Jin responds with a tilt of his head. “Is something wrong?”

“How did you know I fought the Ripper?” you question. “Daniel wouldn’t have known. He wasn’t in the theater with me.”

Jin is silent and only his heady eyes are watching you. 

“Is there something you want to ask me, Y/N?” Jin stands straighter. “Go out and ask. Don’t jump through useless questions.”

You want to ask Jin what was truly on your mind - you were just afraid of the response. 

“Why…how do you know me?”

“That’s your question?” Jin scoffs. “You’ve been in the attic, have you? You look like you’ve seen a ghost…like a person who’s been shown the truth.”

“Stop coming closer.”

“Why?” Jin doesn’t listen and he slowly steps closer to you. “Are you afraid of me, Y/N?”

“Stop.” your teeth grit. 

“Ask me what you want to know, Y/N. I’ll answer you truthfully.”

You have nowhere to run without him easily catching you. Your heart was beating so loud that it was getting hard to focus.

“You…you’re him.” you shake your head in near disbelief. 

“Are you upset with me, Y/N? Do you look at me differently because…I was the Ripper?”

You release a choke gasp of disbelief. 

“You tried to kill me!” your back hits a wall and you curse at your own bad decisions. “You-”

“I could’ve gutted you a long time ago!” Jin suddenly roars - one so loud that it echoes off of the walls. He stomps towards you. “I could’ve had your blood seeping through these floors the same night you came.”

Jin slams his hands on either side of your face against the walls.

“I could’ve killed you that night you presented yourself for Jimin so willingly…for me so willingly.”

“What…?”

“I knew you and I were meant for one another right then and there, Y/N. When you said you would be thinking of me while giving yourself to another man.”

Your night with Jimin was another night you would rather forget and often block out.

“I don’t…I-I don’t understand-”

“You don’t think it was Jimin who fucked you, right?” Jin scoffs with a shake of his head. He looks so different. His eyes…they were so cold and deranged. So distant. 

Your stomach churns at Jin’s words. 

“You’re as strong as I remember you were. You fought me the entire time at the theater. I wasn’t expecting you to be so dumb and cause a fire.” Jin shakes his head with a low tsk. “I had to get the both of us out of there before anything happened.”

Your hands, as rough as they could, shove along his chest to get him away from you. 

“Get the fuck away from me!” you hiss, eyes blurred with hot tears. 

“You’re being rash, now, Y/N.” Jin spit. “Don’t let this ruin us.”

“You’re a murderer!” you hiss, your eyes viewing Jin as he was; the Ripper. 

“And you’re any better, Y/N?” Jin laughs. “Or does it not count because it was just a bit of poison?”

Your eyes widened at Jin’s words.

Your fist clench - another memory unblocked. 

“I didn’t…you and Jimin and-”

“If anything, you were an accessory. You caused the fire that got rid of all the evidence, baby.” Jin shrugs his shoulders. “You’re just as bad as me. Get off your fucking high horse.”

“No.” you shake your head. 

“Yes.” Jin scoffs. “The Ripper is dead, Y/N. I killed that part of me so that you and I can be together. Don’t you get that!”

Jin is quick in his movement, snatching your shoulders and forcing you to look at him. 

“The Ripper is dead. Kim Seokjin is not.” Jin grits his teeth, appearing utterly deranged. “You and I can be a family again, Y/N. Eventually you’ll come around to Jimin, too.”

“You know where Jimin is?”

“Of course I do.” Jin smiles. “Jimin is my brother. Our brother.” he murmurs. “We all went down different paths but we’re together again. The Ripper was just a phase that I’ve gotten over.”

You didn’t know Jin - not as much as you thought you had. These eyes weren’t the eyes of the Jin you were growing to love. He didn’t look as kind and soft; his eyes were different. They dance with insanity as he speaks. 

“You aren’t going to leave me again, right?” Jin watches you intensely. “I'd hate to have to kill the both of us, Y/N. But if that’s what you want.”

You stiffen, your ears not believing what they were hearing. 

“We can pretend you never found out about the past and go back to what we were doing.” Jin’s hands begin to sooth you, rubbing along your shoulders. “We can order pizza and do what we normally do.”

You feel the tear drop onto your cheek before you realize you’re crying. You’re unsure of what to say or how to respond to this new information - you’re left with more questions than answers; questions you’re far too afraid to truly grasp.

“Or…I kill you. Then myself.” Jin shrugs his shoulders. “Don’t let your emotions get in the way of our love, baby.” 

halloween masterlist

[tootiecakes234]

I just know you would receive “gifts” from Katsuki all the time. They’d be little things to make your life easier that you didn’t even know you needed.

You like to read at night to unwind, but sometimes it’ll be a really good book so you want to stay up reading it. The thing is you don’t wanna bother Katsuki cuz you know he has a strict bedtime. This means often times you’ll stay a little longer in the living room reading as to not bother him.

One night you’re getting ready for bed when you see a box next to your bed.

“Hey Kat, is this yours?”, you say loud enough for him to hear you in the bathroom.

He peaks his head out the door and says, “No, I ordered it for you.” And then goes back to what he was doing.

You sit on the edge of the bed and open it up. It’s a reading light with a dampener so you can adjust the brightness.

He comes dragging his little slippered feet towards his side of the bed.

“Now you can keep your ass in bed. Tired of waking up and you being asleep on the couch. I’m an old man, I can’t keep carrying you to bed.”

You look at him with a bright smile on your face.

“You know you can just say, you like me being in the bed with you while you’re sleeping. You know, because I’m your big bad protector and I make you feel safe.”

“There is no talking to you sometimes you know that?”

It’s winter time and you always have your gloves on because you HATE your fingers being cold. The only problem is of course you have to remove said gloves to use your phone when you’re out and that SUCKS.

You’re out with him one day and you’ve been texting back and forth with Mina because her and her girlfriend are in an argument and she of course comes to you about it.

You are always there for your friend so you’ve been removing and putting on your gloves over and over again until Katsuki can’t stand it anymore.

You’re outside on a bench waiting for him while he runs into some shop when he comes back out he snatches your phone out of your hand.

“What the hell? I’m usin-“ you start shouting at him.

“ give me those shitty gloves and put these on. I’m sick of watching you struggle.”

When you look down you see a pair of gloves in your favorite color.

“How are these any different from the ones I have now, Mr. Know-it-all”

He smirks at you, “These gloves are thicker than those thin ones you use AND they work on smart phones.. so yea. I do know it all.”

“Oh…. Well thanks I guess” you murmur lowly.

“Now you can talk Racoon eyes through her mental breakdowns without getting frost bite in your fingers.”he says then hands you back your phone. “She deserve better than that idiot anyways. Don’t why she keeps putting up with it.”

Katsuki is leaving for a mission today and you’ve been so gloomy. He gonna be gone at least 3 days, maybe even the whole week.

You’re been wrapped around him like ivy since you woke up this morning.

“Listen woman, I have to go. You do this every time.”he says with his arms wrapped around you waist pulling you even more flush against him.

“You should clone yourself or something. Who am I gonna cuddle with now?? And who is gonna cook for me?? I’ll die of starvation before you get back. Is that what you want. To come home to a dead girlfriend???”

“You are so damn dramatic. Cuddle with the damn plethor of plushies you have in my goddamn bed. And as far as food… you won’t starve. You’ll just eat out everyday and I’ll come back to you complaining you’ve gained weight when you look the exact same.”

“I do not.”, you start to object.

“Yes you do. Which is why I made a few meals and froze them.” He says all smug, cuz he knows that would surprise you.

“You what??” You ask looking up at him with wide eyes.

“There’s a pot pie and dumplings. I even stored a lasagna in there.” Then his phone buzzes letting him know his ride is downstairs.

“Ok I gotta go. I love you.” And he bends down to give you a deep kiss. “Be safe. Call Eiji if you need anything and try not to burn the house down before I get back.”

“I love you too. Come back to me in one piece please.”

He smiles at you, “always”

He kisses you one more time and then heads to the car.

You go directly to the fridge to see the frozen meals he left you. And not only are the packages all neatly but he’s left the heating instructions on top for you.

To say there were tears shed would be an understatement.

Katsuki Masterlist

Tags: @dreamcastgirl99 @xxvendettaxx @justbepeace @moonpieshawdy @theloveofnagiseishiroslife @mintsbubbletea @darkstarlight82 @anon-mouse223 @b134ch-m4h-ey3z @i-literally-cant-with-this @flowerbedbaby @kit-katsukii @blaize-hewwo @sweetblueworm @tippy-toes @superlegend216

Let me know if you wanna be added to the tag list in the comments💕

[jobean12-blog]

Life is Good

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female reader

Word Count: 999

Summary: Bucky loves to take care of you even if it means he has to get out of the the warm and cozy bed but he'll be keeping it warm for when you get home.

Author's Note: My sweet friend @sgt-seabass shared this absolutely lovely and adorable tik tok with me and just made me think of this softness with Bucky and Alpine. Thank you love! And thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy!🥰

Warnings: soft sweet fluff and warm and fuzzy 😁

“You don’t have to bring me to work Buck. Stay in bed!”

Alpine meows in agreement and stretches himself out in the warm spot Bucky just vacated.

“Nah doll face. I’ll take you. I don’t want you going out in this alone.”

You stare at him as he sits sleepily on the edge of the bed and yawns, the backdrop of the neighboring buildings obscured by the flakes of snow fluttering wildly outside but doing little to distract from his perfection.

“Bucky.”

“Doll.”

He gives you a lopsided smile and crooks his finger at you before patting his thigh.

You walk between his legs and sit, curling against his bare chest, still warm from sleep.

“Just need a hug before we go.”

You hum happily into his skin with a soft inhale.

“I should call out…”

“You should.”

“But I have to get this project done.”

“I know baby doll.”

“Alpine?” you ask and peek over Bucky’s shoulder at the white fluff sprawled out on the bed.

The cat doesn’t even lift his head up.

“We all know his answer,” Bucky chuckles. “He’d stay in bed all day.”

You place a soft kiss to Bucky’s neck and nuzzle closer.

“Honestly. Hugs were the best and worst idea. I do not want to get up,” he says. “Ever again.”  

“Yeah, I know. Now I’m extra comfy and in my happy place.”

You feel the satisfied rumble that moves through his chest before he presses his thumb under your chin and tilts your face up to capture your lips in a toe-curling kiss.

“Bucky,” you murmur against his mouth.

“Uh huh, I know,” he sighs, kissing you again before he gently sets you down on the bed.

“Gimme five to wash up and change and we’ll go.”

Once Bucky is dressed he appears in the living room and looks you over.

“Do you have everything you need?” he asks.

“Yup!”

He crowds your space and pulls your hat down over your ears before tightening your scarf.

“Lunch?”

“Yes Bucky,” you answer sweetly and pat your bag.

“Snacks?”

He then pulls your gloves from your jacket pockets and motions for your hands.

“Of course,” you reply.

When he has your gloves secured he gives you one more check and nods approvingly.

“Ok, let’s go.”

He gets himself dressed, of course with fewer accessories than you, and holds the door open while reaching out for your hand.

“Bye Alpine,” you yell.

Bucky walks you to the train station, takes the train with you and then walks you to your building before kissing you until you’re overheating. He watches you get inside and waves through the large glass panes until you disappear into the elevator.

The day flies by thanks to all that you have to do but you’re productive and manage to finish early. With excited steps you walk toward the elevator, contemplating calling Bucky to let him know you’re leaving. He insisted on coming back to get you and take you home but you want to surprise him and decide you can make it home just fine on your own.

Your trip back is uneventful and when you reach the door to your apartment you can already smell the familiar aroma of your favorite comfort meal. With a smile you unlock the door and walk inside, softly calling Bucky’s name.

When he doesn’t answer you toe off your shoes and whip off all your warm weather garments then walk to the crock pot on the counter and lift the lid, inhaling with contentment.

The bedroom door is wide open and as you get closer you can see Bucky’s bare foot dangling off the edge of the bed. You inch closer with quiet steps and find him laid out on top of the comforter in nothing but his black boxers.

The curtains that normally cover the large window next to the bed are pushed haphazardly aside, allowing the soft brightness of the snow to bathe the room in a white glow. Everything you can see outside is lined with a neat new edge of dazzling crystals.

As pretty as it all is your eyes quickly move back to the bed and Bucky.

His metal hand is curled around your pillow and his face is smushed into it. Alpine is laying in the small space between Bucky’s bent leg and his arm with all four legs straight out and his furry belly gently rising and falling with his even breathing.

You stare for a few moments before taking your phone out and snapping a photo.

“New lock screen?” Bucky mumbles as he slowly shifts and opens his eyes.

“Definitely,” you giggle.

“How come you didn’t call me doll?”

His voice is stern even though his face is half hidden in your pillow.

“I was done early and wanted to surprise you…surprise!”

He grumbles something about ‘next time you better call because blah blah’ and trails off.

“Get over here doll.”

“That’s my pillow,” you tease.

“Smells so good,” he murmurs with one last nuzzle before holding out his arms and making grabby hands.

You curl into him and after several kisses you ask, “did you fall asleep reading again?”

“Yeah,” he whispers. “I got the food in the crock pot, had a snack or two then decided to read while I waited for you to call and well…”

“Thank you for cooking. It smells so good.”

“Of course baby doll. It’ll be ready soon.”

“Mm. I don’t want to get up yet.”

“Me either.”

“Meow.”

Alpine stretches and presses himself closer into Bucky while lightly kneading the comforter.

“Hi furball,” you giggle. “Did you help daddy cook?”

Bucky scoffs playfully and tugs you closer into his embrace.

“He’s been in the same spot since you left!”

“He’s living the life!” you muse.

Bucky slides his face closer to yours and holds your gaze while he delicately traces a finger along the curve of your jaw.

“It’s the best life,” he murmurs against your lips.

@lizette50 @buckysdollforlife @randomfandompenguin @blackwidownat2814 @goldylions @kmc1989 @haileygarciasunshine

[ramblings-of-a-chaotic-neutral]

Hello again everyone! Since the "Merlin accidentally conquers Camelot" au won the continuation poll, here's part 2!

NOTE: Part 1 can be found here!

EDIT: Part 3 can be found here!

As a quick recap of this au, during the season 4 finale Merlin was caught by Morgana while trying to plant the burning doll curse that would temporarily lock away her powers, and they have a magic battle that ends with both Morgana and her army slain. Merlin thought that no one saw what happened, but Camelot's lords who serve on the council secretly saw everything. So, when Arthur storms Camelot, ready to take back his throne, he's met with the news that Morgana's already dead and a new sorcerer has claimed the throne of Camelot through the right of conquest, and the lords have unanimously agreed to make this powerful sorcerer king in order to appease him. To everyone's shock, Geoffrey then puts the crown of Camelot on Merlin's head, and Merlin promptly passes out.

And now, onto the new stuff!

When Merlin finally woke up, he jolted awake with a start, frightened by what must have been a terrible nightmare! And truly, it was one of the most horrifying scenarios Merlin's sleeping mind had ever conjured to torture himself with: everyone finding out about his magic, Arthur thinking that Merlin betrayed him, and unintentionally stealing Arthur's kingship!

If the idea wasn't so frightening, Merlin would almost laugh at the absurdity of it: Merlin, king of Camelot! What nonsense! Merlin was Emrys, the other side of the coin to the king; he was certainly never meant to be king himself.

Still, the idea gave Merlin a slight chuckle as he climbed out of his bed and changed into his usual clothes, the soft light of the dawn flittering in through his window. Thank every god out there that his outfit didn't involve a crown!

After he finished tying his neckerchief and pulling on his boots, Merlin opened the door into the main area of Gaius's chambers, ready to eat a quick breakfast with Gaius before collecting Arthur's breakfast and starting his work for the day.

Stepping out into the main chamber, he couldn't find Gaius anywhere, but that wasn't too unusual, given how busy Gaius could be with sudden injuries or illnesses popping up in the lower town at all hours of the night. Humming a bit to himself, Merlin began fixing himself a small bowl of porridge in the chamber's cooking pot, making sure to leave an extra portion for Gaius whenever he returned from his duties.

Merlin ate his breakfast quickly, enjoying the birdsong outside and the beautiful sunrise. Yes, this was exactly what he needed to wash away the awful ideas that his nightmare had conjured up.

After cleaning up their dining table, Merlin made his way towards the door, ready go about his day and do his job as a manservant to moderately acceptable standards! Besides, on the heels of Morgana's invasion, Arthur would need a supportive friend far more than a manservant today.

As Merlin opened the door from Gaius's chambers, however, something was conspicuously different. Namely, the fact that there were two armed guards standing on either side of the door, standing with their backs to the door.

The two guards stiffened and stood at attention as soon as he opened the door, uncrossing their polearms so that they would not be blocking his path as he left Gaius's chambers. Merlin froze at the sight of the guards, staring at their backs. What... what was going on?

"Is... is everything alright? What's this about?"

Was it just him, or did the two guards somehow stiffen up even more at Merlin's words?

After a tense beat of silence, one of the guards cleared his throat and replied, "We were assigned to stand guard over these chambers."

Merlin's brows furrowed with confusion for a moment before he figured out what must have happened, realization dawning on his face.

"Oh, I see! Arthur must have increased security around the castle since Morgana's latest attack. I'm not sure why he considers the physician's quarters to be a potential target, but I'll ask him about it later. Well, I'd better get going or else I'll be late to wake the prat up. Say hello to Gaius for me when he gets back!"

The guards looks confused at his words and opened their mouths to call something out to Merlin, but Merlin was already down the stairs and halfway down the hall before either of them could blink.

Merlin got a lot more strange stares than usual today as he made his way towards the kitchens, with many people outright stopping to gawk at him as he passed. Did he have something odd stuck to his hair or something?

Merlin shrugged off the strange stares for now. He'd have time to look in a mirror and figure out what was so odd about how he looked later, after Arthur had eaten and gotten dressed.

Merlin was still a few minutes away from the kitchens when a caped figure emerged from a servant's passageway and barreled into him, drawing him into a sudden hug. Instinctively, Merlin tensed up at the perceived attack, but he quickly relaxed at the familiar smell of ale and apples that surrounded his laughing "attacker".

"There you are! I've been looking all over for you, Merls!"

Merlin sighed with both relief at seeing his friend in one piece and in high spirits, but also is exasperation.

"Gwaine, I'm very glad to see you again, but what are you doing here? You just spent a week in captivity under Morgana, you're supposed to be resting and recovering, not ambushing unsuspecting servants!"

Gwaine pulled back at Merlin's words, wearing a look of confusion as he studied Merlin's face.

"Ah, but I'm not ambushing a servant, am I?"

"Yes, yes, you're ambushing your friend, since friendship gives you more rights to pull stunts like this and give me more reason to worry over your health."

At that, Gwaine's face pulled into an outright frown, a rare sight to see on the perpetually-grinning knight. Merlin shifted around a bit nervously, unsure of what exactly was happening. Finally, Gwaine spoke again, this time very slowly and gently, as if he was trying to calm down a spooked horse.

"Merlin, what do you remember from yesterday? What was the last thing you remember before falling asleep?"

This time, it was Merlin's turn to frown in confusion at Gwaine's odd questions. What did any of that matter?

"Well, I suppose the last thing I remember was... was storming into the throne room with Arthur and Gwen and being informed of Morgana's death anything after that... I don't quite recall."

He must have hit his head or something after that point, because everything after that was what happened in his nightmare, and there was no way any of that was real. Right?

Merlin watched as Gwaine's frown pulled into a strained smile, his confusion only growing. What was Gwaine so nervous about?

"Well, Merls," Gwaine began, slinging an arm around Merlin's shoulders as he started to lead Merlin away from the kitchens, "a lot happened in between then and now, including some great news!"

Gwaine turned to face Merlin, his smile genuine and mischievous this time, and Merlin knew that grin. That was the grin Gwaine wore right before he was about to get himself into some trouble for a noble cause but would hide it under the guise of "fun".

Merlin sighed deeply, not awake enough to deal Gwaine's antics, even if they was coming from a good place.

"Alright, what's this news of yours?"

If it was possible, Gwaine's mischievous grin grew wider.

"For starters, I got a promotion!"

Merlin stopped in his tracks with shock, halting their walk to... wherever Gwaine was leading him.

"A promotion?! How? Why? What's your new title? Will you be leading other knights?"

Gwaine just shook his head, his hair whipping around and smile still present on his face. He started leading Merlin again as he answered Merlin's questions.

"I know, I had hardly believe it myself! But I took some initiative when it really mattered, and I landed myself this new job! It's not really a leadership role, but I might be leading some knights, and probably some guards too!"

Gwaine finally started to slow their march down as they reached what Merlin assumed was their destination: the doors to the main throne room, where Arthur took his audiences.

As Gwaine stopped before the doors, he turned to look at Merlin again, his smile still bright, but his eyes, Merlin noticed, growing strained again, like there was something greatly troubling him.

"You still haven't told me what this new job actually is though."

This time, Gwaine's smile faltered a bit, and Merlin knew at once that this new job was what was causing Gwaine so much inner turmoil. What job could possibly give Gwaine of all people so much stress?

"Ah, silly me, how could I forget! You'll want to hold onto something before I tell you this, because this will blow you away my friend! I got promoted..."

Gwaine leaned in close, almost like he was about to share a secret with Merlin. Merlin leaned in as well, curious about what position Gwaine's surprising promotion had been to.

"to the king's official bodyguard!" Gwaine revealed in a stage whisper, playing the moment up for dramatic effect in a very Gwaine-like manner.

Merlin jerked backwards in surprise, startled by such unexpected news, but the more he thought about it, the more it made sense.

Arthur did seem to be stepping up security in the aftermath of Morgana's latest invasion, so it made sense for him to appoint a loyal and trusted knight to look after Arthur's own safety.

Merlin was strangely pleased with Arthur's decision on this. Arthur was finally prioritizing his own safety, and he had picked a great knight for the job! This might make Merlin's own secret job of protecting Arthur much easier! Gwaine would certainly take any of Merlin's warnings of danger to Arthur seriously, and he trusted Merlin enough that he wouldn't question where Merlin got any of his information.

Merlin smiled back at his friend, happy about both this new opportunity for his friend and about the changes it would bring. Yes, this was great!

"That's amazing Gwaine! Do you want to stop by the tavern tonight to celebrate?"

Gwaine laughed a bit at that, still looking oddly tense. For some unknown reason, apprehension started pooling in Merlin's stomach, telling him that something wasn't right here. No, there was something else going on.

"Thanks for the offer mate, but I'm afraid that it wouldn't be a good look for me to be seen drinking on my first night on the job. Besides, I have a feeling that you'll be a little busy this evening too."

Merlin's confusion only grew with each passing second.

"What do you mean by that?"

Gwaine didn't answer him, only giving Merlin a small, almost sad smile. It looked disturbingly out of place on the boisterous Gwaine, ratchetting Merlin's confusion and dread up even further.

Without another word, Gwaine turned and opened the doors to the throne room, revealing the entire council of lords congregated within, giving Merlin rather violent flashbacks to his nightmare.

No, no, nothing as disastrous as Merlin being publicly announced as a sorcerer and then getting crowned king in front of Arthur and Gwen could ever happen in real life. It was simply too absurd.

Merlin watched, frozen at the threshold of the room, as the lords' heads all turned towards the door at the sound of it swinging open. To Merlin's rising dread, they all rose from their seats at the sight of him.

No no no no....

Merlin frantically looked around, hoping to all of the gods of the Old Religion that Arthur was somewhere nearby, because the council only rose for the entrance of the king...

Merlin turned around, hoping to find Arthur standing around somewhere, anywhere, as dread began closing its claws around his heart, which was beating at the rating that Merlin would be concerned about if he could process anything other than his own all-consuming terror at that moment.

Because it wasn't a nightmare, was it? No, that was real. His worst fears had come to life in the most horrifying way possible, and he was powerless to stop it now.

If the lords of the council noticed Merlin's frantic terror, they didn't acknowledge it. Instead, apparently, they decided to only confirm Merlin's deepest fears. After a tense moment of utter silence in the room, broken only by Merlin's jagged breathing, Geoffrey finally stepped forward.

"Ah, welcome Your Majesty! I hope you're feeling better now after you've rested and recovered from your battle against Morgana. There is much to discuss concerning these first crucial days of your reign, including your public coronation, having all knights who are willing to renounce the Pendragon line swear their fealty to you, and determining the fates of those who already refuse to accept your rule."

For what felt like an eternity, Merlin simply stood there, his mind refusing to cooperate or even process what he was being told. He couldn't move a single muscle in his body, paralyzed by horror. He was only snapped out of his fugue state by Gwaine taking ahold of his arm and guiding him towards the table.

Inhaling sharply as he was pushed by Gwaine closer to the lords, he finally processed what Geoffrey had told him. Oh gods, a coronation?! So all of Arthur's kingdom could see how he had stolen Arthur's throne?! Forcing knights to turn their backs on Arthur and renounce their loyalty to him?! This was madness and, not to mention, the exact opposite of what Merlin wanted!

And what was that about punishing people for refusing to accept him as king? Hell, Merlin should reward the dissenters if anything, since they were apparently the only ones who still had any good sense left in this kingdom! Who in their right mind would immediately accept Merlin as their king anyway?!

Right, Merlin thought as his eyes wandered over the faces of the lords, spineless cowards with no loyalty who would turn their backs on their true king to save their own hides, that's who.

Well, the applied to the lords at least, but that still didn't explain what Gwaine was doing here, by Merlin's side, when he should be with Arthur and the other knights!

... Where were Arthur and the other knights?

A jolt of fear once again shot through Merlin, this time alongside guilt. Where was Arthur? What had happened to him? The council had foolishly stripped him of his title, and then what?

Clearing his dry throat, Merlin finally responded, "Geoffrey, what happened after I lost consciousness yesterday? Where is Arthur?"

After Merlin was finished speaking, the lords started shifting around nervously, which began to set of warning bells in Merlin's mind.

Something had happened after he fainted yesterday. Something that involved Arthur.

"Well, Your Majesty, following your loss of consciousness yesterday, the former King Arthur lost his temper and began yelling, shouting everything from accusing us of lies and treason to cursing out the sacred laws of the land. He then ran throughout the castle and began calling upon his knights for aid, explaining the situation to them in crude terms and demanding that they take back the crown from you by force."

Merlin grimaced at Geoffrey's monotone explanation, horrific visions of Arthur calling for his execution as a sorcerer and traitor running through his mind.

"Many of Arthur's knights rallied to his cause, but there were some who were hesitant to turn their blades against you, no doubt recognizing your power and your true claim to the throne. It was from that group that your loyal Sir Gwaine arose, leading a small group of knights and guards in a surprise attack that concluded with the former king and his knights locked in the dungeon cells, awaiting your judgement."

Merlin eyes flew wide at Geoffrey's words, his heading whipping around to meet Gwaine's gaze. Gwaine had betrayed Arthur in such a terrible way? For him?

In response to Merlin's horrified stare, Gwaine simply gave him his most innocent smile, as if nothing was wrong at all and Merlin's world wasn't crumbling around him.

No, this wasn't happening. Merlin had to fix this, and he had to fix it now.

"Look, Geoffrey, I am honored that you and the other lords feel so strongly that I am supposed to be Camelot's king, but that is not meant to be. I was never meant to rule over anything. This is Arthur's kingdom, and I will not be the one to take it from him."

All of the lords around the table look utterly confused, as if Merlin was speaking a completely different language. That was expected, Merlin supposed, if they had never seen anyone willingly give up power. Gwaine, however, just looked amused, like he knew that this was exactly what would happen.

"While that is a most gracious sentiment Your Majesty, I'm afraid that it isn't that simple."

Merlin groaned at Geoffrey's words, bemoaning the fact that the world could never let anything in his life be simple.

"Shouldn't it be?! I'm apparently the king now, so I order you to release Arthur and the knights from the dungeons and to give Arthur his kingship back!"

This time, it was Geoffrey's turn to sigh deeply, as the old man pulled a rather hefty- and dusty- scroll from his bag.

"This," Geoffrey began as he unrolled the yellowed parchment, "is Bruta's code, written by the Great King himself. This set of laws are the foundation on which all of the five kingdoms are governed, and Camelot is no exception. All kings of this Isle, no matter how powerful, are subject to these laws, lest the entire realm fall into anarchy."

Merlin was valiantly holding back the urge to bash his head into the council table. Why couldn't he clear this situation up as painlessly as possible?!

"The code addresses many subjects, and both the right of conquest and the rules of succession are outlined within. I'm terribly sorry Your Majesty, but the code clearly states that when a king who is not of royal blood ascends to the throne through the right of conquest, the previous royal family loses any and all claim to the throne, alongside their lands and wealth, essentially leaving them with no titles or claim to nobility at all. This measure was originally put in place to ban the defeated family from endlessly challenging the victor of the conquest in a bid to regain their former throne and wasting the new ruler's precious time."

Merlin's heart dropped even more at Geoffrey's words. Great, he had not only stolen Arthur's kingdom, but he had also stolen everything Arthur owned! Gods, what did Arthur hate Merlin more for at the moment, being a secret powerful sorcerer ever since they met or inadvertently stripping him of his title, lands, and all his possessions?

"I still don't see why this would forbid me from freely giving Arthur the throne back."

"Your Majesty, the former king is no longer a noble, as the Pendragon line is no longer recognized as a noble house. As such, Arthur is now, by law, a peasant, and it is against Bruta's code for a ruler to cede their throne to anyone but a noble for any period of time."

Merlin bit back a frustrated scream. Why, why?! Why couldn't he just make Arthur a noble again and be done with this farce and-

Wait a minute.

There was a way to make Arthur a noble.

Oh no, Arthur was going to hate this. But, Merlin steeled himself, this was the only way to make things right.

And that's all for now! I had a lot of fun making Gwaine the ultimate "ride or die" bestie for Merlin in this situation lol! I'll definitely be doing a part three of this au soon to resolve this cliffhanger!

Please let me know what you all thought of this continuation!

A huge thank you to everyone who supported my last au post and asked for this continuation! I'll try to tag you all here, my apologies if I missed anyone!

@cookie-player , @miyriu , @nebulousconstellationwriter , @insane-multifandom-brainrot , @elementalpirate4 ,

@tidalwavesandthunderstorms , @gaiussleechtank , @arrowlovesdragons , @lordmushroomkat , @bucketheadpunk14 ,

@retro-wallflower , @ryeallytired , @verxen , @mind-of-a-crow , @aostrek-236 ,

@thedragonkinproject , @orliththedragon , @theroundbartable , @my-own-quiet-corner , @tireddruid ,

@coffee-shop-gay , @sable-nakahara , @deadhotpocket , @bennedict , @samwinjester ,

@linotheghost , @aerismoon , @merthurogies , @ahumoki0 , @chairwiththreelegs ,

@achillesuwu , @pancakesandpigs , @the-king-and-the-druidess , @sugar-coated-prat-dragon , @isaidno ,

@justaz , @auldsusie

And, as always, thank you for reading through my ramblings! :D

EDIT: A question for those of you I'm tagging, I'm not sure if this is a tumblr issue or if I'm screwing something up on my end, but after the first few tagged blogs, it shows up on my screen like the tags are just plain text and not linked to anything. So, for those of you that are tagged, can you confirm that you're getting a notification when I tag you? I want to make sure everyone who requested a continuation knows when it's posted!

2nd EDIT: I've tried to fix the tag problem, I'm very sorry if you already saw this post and then got a notification!

[vanteguccir]

── ୨୧ !　𝗕𝗜𝗥𝗧𝗛𝗗𝗔𝗬 𝗦𝗘𝗫 𝗜𝗡 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗞𝗜𝗧𝗖𝗛𝗘𝗡

　　　　　　　　　𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒕 𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒐 x reader

SUMMARY: Where Matt just wants to fuck Y/N as his birthday present, it doesn't matter that it's in the kitchen and they can be caught by his brothers.

WARNING: SMUT ‼️ making-out, fingering, p in v, skin biting, slightly dom!Matt, public sex, praising kink, probability of getting caught.

REQUESTED?: Yes, by @flouqiis

AUTHOR'S NOTE: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism, copy, or "inspiration"! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

A/N²: I promise this is the last one for their birthday (or not, yall can send more requests 🤭) 🙏🏻.

　　　༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

The house was a flurry of activity, a mix of laughter, banter, and the constant hum of preparations. Balloons, streamers, and banners filled the living room, all in bright colors that celebrated the triplets' birthday.

The kitchen was warm while Y/N hummed softly to herself, her mind lost in the rhythm of cooking for the three birthday boys who rushed around to prepare their party. She was stirring the pot when she felt a presence behind her. Before she could turn, a pair of strong arms wrapped around her waist, and she felt a warm kiss on the side of her neck, a very known perfume invading her nostrils.

"Hey there." Matt’s voice was a low murmur against her skin, sending a shiver down her spine.

His lips were soft yet insistent, trailing from the base of her neck to just below her ear, sending shivers down her spine. His hands, initially resting on her hips, moving in slow, deliberate motions. They traveled up her sides, caressing her stomach with a gentle but firm touch. The sensation of his hands gliding over her skin was both soothing and electrifying.

He paused for a moment, savoring the feel of her body against his, rocking their bodies together from side to side slowly before his hands continued their journey upward, brushing against the underside of her boobs. The touch was light, teasing, but it made her breath hitch. He squeezed gently, his thumbs brushing over her nipples through the fabric of her shirt, making her gasp softly.

"Matt." She whispered, a soft smile playing on her lips. "We’re in the kitchen. Your brothers are here."

He chuckled, his breath hot on her neck.

"They finally left. They’re going to be out for an hour or so."

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat. She turned her head slightly to look at him, her eyes meeting his. There was a glint of mischief in his gaze, a look she had come to know well.

"Babe, we don’t have time for this. We have so much to do." She indicated the mess of birthday items around the living room with her chin.

"But it’s my birthday." He said in a whine tone, his hands sliding down to her hips, pulling her closer. "I deserve a little something, don’t you think?"

Y/N hesitated for a moment, but the feeling of his hands on her body, the warmth of his breath on her skin, was enough to melt her resistance. She turned off the stove and leaned back against him, her resolve crumbling.

"Okay." She whispered, her voice barely audible.

Matt wasted no time. He turned her around to face him, capturing her lips in a deep, hungry kiss. His hands roamed over her body, pulling her closer, pressing her against the kitchen counter. Y/N’s hands found their way to his hair, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss. The world outside the kitchen seemed to disappear, leaving only the two of them in their bubble of heat and desire.

He kissed her fervently, his lips capturing hers with a hunger that had been building all day. His tongue parted her lips, exploring her mouth with a passion that made her head spin. She matched his intensity, her hands tangling in his hair, pulling him closer, deepening the connection between them.

His hands roamed over her back, pulling her flush against him, as if trying to fuse their bodies into one. The taste of him was intoxicating, a mix of desire and the faint hint of the coffee he’d had earlier. She could feel his heart beating against her chest, a steady rhythm that matched the frantic pace of her own.

Matt’s hands slid down her back, cupping her ass and lifting her effortlessly. He moved with a purpose, not breaking their heated kiss as he guided her from the counter to the table. It was a blind dance, their movements instinctual and urgent. Her legs wrapped around his waist, holding him close as he carried her.

With a firm but gentle touch, he helped her sit up, his hands sliding up her back to support her. Y/N’s breath hitched as she felt the cool surface of the table against her skin, only covered by small cotton shorts, contrasting sharply with the heat of his touch. His fingers traced a path up her spine, making her shiver with anticipation.

"Matt..." She whispered breathlessly against his lips, pleading.

"I know dove, I know. Let me make you feel good, yeah?" He muttered back before locking their lips back together.

Their kiss grew even more intense, their lips moving together in a desperate dance. Matt’s hands found their way under her shirt, lifting it over her head and tossing it aside. He broke the kiss for a moment to look at her, his eyes dark with desire.

"You’re so pretty." He murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "My best birthday present in every year, yeah?"

Y/N could only moan in response, her body trembling with need. She pulled him back to her, their lips crashing together once more. Matt’s hands moved to her tits, squeezing gently, his thumbs brushing over her nipples. She gasped against his lips, the sensation sending a jolt of pleasure through her.

"Babe-" She whispered, her voice a mix of urgency and longing. "I need you. P-please."

"I need you too, dove." He replied, his voice a low growl. "I've been thinking about this all day."

He undid her shorts, pulling them down with her lace panties and tossing them aside. Y/N shivered at the cool air against her skin, but the feeling was quickly replaced by the heat of Matt’s touch. With a deliberate slowness, his fingers traveled down, teasing her inner thighs before finally reaching her core.

"We shouldn't be doing this in here." She muttered breathlessly, her tone betraying her own thoughts and sounding like a moan, trembling with a mix of desire and concern.

Matt's lips curled into a cocky smile, his eyes dark with lust.

"It's my birthday, babe. Remember?" He said, his voice a low, seductive growl. "I deserve it."

He slipped a finger inside her, moving it with expert precision, curling it just right to hit her most sensitive spots. His thumb pressed against her clit, adding to the intense sensation.

Y/N gasped, her body arching towards him, her hands gripping the edge of the table so tight that her fingers took a white color.

"Oh, Matt." She moaned, her voice thick with desire. "Please."

He could feel her body responding, her hips bucking slightly, soft moans escaping her lips repeatedly. The sound was like music to his ears, urging him on.

"Shit, sweetheart." He whispered, his lips brushing against her cheek. "You feel so good. So tight around my finger."

Her moans grew louder as his finger moved faster, deeper, his thumb circling her clit with increasing pressure. He could feel her getting wetter, her body opening up to him, and he knew she was close.

"Fuck- I can't wait to feel you around my dick." He murmured, his voice a low growl.

Her moans hit his ear, sending a shiver down his spine. He could feel her getting closer, her body tensing with anticipation.

Y/N’s mind was a whirl of sensation. She could barely breathe, her body trembling with need.

"Matt, please." She begged louder, her voice cracking as her fingers danced to his wrist, squeezing the area. "I-I need you. 'Need you inside of me. Please, please, please-"

He didn't make her wait any longer, slowly withdrawing his finger, earning a soft whimper from her. He brought his hand to his mouth, tasting her, savoring the sweet, salty flavor. His eyes never left hers, smirking with her desperate reactions.

He undid his sweatpants, letting them fall to the floor, followed by his boxers. His erection sprang free, hard and ready, aching to be inside her. He gripped her thighs, spreading them wider, positioning himself at her entrance.

"Are you ready, baby?" He asked, his voice a low, husky whisper.

She nodded, her eyes filled with need.

"Yes." She whispered, her voice trembling. "Please, Matt. Plea-"

With one swift motion, he thrust into her, filling her completely, a loud and high-pitched moan scaping from his girl. The sensation was overwhelming, her warm tightness wrapping around him like a glove. He groaned, his hands gripping her thighs roughly, holding her in place as he started to move.

"Fuck, you feel so good." He groaned, his voice thick with desire, his head falling behind exposing his adam's apple. "So tight, so made just for me."

Y/N could only moan in response, her body trembling with pleasure. He moved faster, deeper, each thrust sending waves of pleasure through her. She wrapped her legs around him, pulling him closer, matching his rhythm.

"Matt." She gasped, her voice barely a whisper. "Don't stop. Please, don't sto-op."

He didn't. He thrust into her harder, his hands gripping her hips, pulling her closer.

"So fucking good." He whispered, his voice a low growl. "My perfect little thing."

Y/N clung to him as if her life depended on it, her fingers digging into the muscles of his back. She pulled him closer - if that was even possible -, her nails leaving faint trails on his skin. Her head fell on his shoulder, her breath hot against his neck as she brushed her lips on his skin, kissing and licking the sensitive spot there. Each touch of her lips sent shivers down his spine, driving him wild with desire.

"Babe, fuck! Oh my God-" She moaned against his neck, her voice trembling with need. "Don't stop. Please, never- never stop."

Her words spurred him on, fueling the fire within him. He thrust into her harder, his movements rough and relentless, each one sending shockwaves of pleasure through her body. He gripped her thighs tightly, his fingers sinking into her skin, holding her in place as he drove into her with a fervor that bordered on desperation.

"Shit, dove." He groaned, his voice a low growl. "You feel so good. So fucking good around me."

Her moans grew louder, arching her back with all the intense feelings, pressing her chest against his, her nipples brushing against his chest. The sensation was electric, sending jolts of pleasure through both of them.

Matt's hands roamed over her body, his fingers digging into her flesh as he held her closer. He could feel her body trembling, her warm and wet walls tightening around him with each thrust. Her kisses on his neck grew more frantic, her warm tongue tracing wet patterns on his skin as she moaned his name.

"Fucking- God-" She gasped, her voice thick with desire. "I'm so close. S-so fucking clo-ose, Matt."

"Me too, dove." He whispered against her ear, his voice rough with need, cracking slightly. "I want you to cum with me, baby. Can you do that f'me?"

She nodded repeatedly, her eyes closed tightly, her eyes rolling behind her eyelids, lost in the sensation of him inside her.

"Yes." She moaned. "Shit- yes, Matt. Everything. 'Will always do everything-"

He increased his pace, each thrust harder and deeper than the last. The sound of their bodies moving together filled the kitchen and living room, a symphony of pleasure and desire. He could feel her getting closer, her body tensing below him, her walls sucking him in desperately, her breath coming in short, ragged gasps.

"You're mine." He whispered, his voice a low growl. "All mine. Mine to use, mine to please, mine to feel, yeah? All mine, dove."

"Yes." She moaned, her voice high-pitched echoing around them and ringing against her own ears. "All yours, only yours."

Her words sent him over the edge. With one final thrust, he buried himself deep inside her, his muscles tensing roughly. He buried his head in the crook of her neck, pressing his face against the warm, sweaty region, his lips circling the curve, exhaling her sweet smell.

The sensation of his orgasm invaded him in a strong wave that made him desperately search for support, his hands flattening the table beside Y/N's hips while his fingers pressed hard into the wooden surface.

Matt's teeth grazed the sensitive skin, closing instinctively around it, sinking into the sensitive flesh, a loud and long groan escaping his lips followed by a sensual and very pornographic moan from Y/N.

The sensation of pain and pleasure that Matt's gesture brought her triggered her own orgasm, her muscles tightening in an almost painful way as she finally came.

"Matt- Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" She cried out his name, her fingers digging into his back with as much force as before, her body trembling hard with pleasure. The sensation was overwhelming, waves of ecstasy crashing over her, leaving her breathless.

They stayed like that for a moment, lost in the aftermath of their intimacy. Their bodies were pressed together, their breaths mingling, their hearts beating in unison. Matt's hands roamed over her back, soothing her, grounding her.

He slowly pulled his teeth away from Y/N's skin, a feeling of unexpected arousal invading his body as his eyes noticed the small marks his mouth had left there. A cocky smirk stretched across his face, his lips brushing her neck over the marks before sealing the skin in a small kiss.

"Shit, dove-" Matt began, but before he could finish his sentence, the sound of keys against the lock of the front door sounded from downstairs, interrupting him.

Y/N widened her eyes comically, her hands snaking from his back to his chest, pushing him away forcefully.

"Matt-" She started, being interrupted by voices coming from downstairs.

"We're back!"

taglist:

@lustfulslxt @ladybunny44 @earth2starkey @freshloveforthefit @sturniolowhore @luvr4miya @alorsxsturn @urfavgirllyyyyy @hearts4chriss @cupidzsq @junnniiieee07 @lightsgore @gidgett11037 @soimightlikeoldmen69 @ldr-sl0t @its-jennarose @sainzzsturns @soso-scarlettolivia @bitchydragonparadise @freshsturns @h3arts4harry @patscorner @strnilolo @bernardsbendystraws @poetatorturadaa @meg-sturniolo @orangeypepsi @jnkvivi @chrisactualwife @fratbrochrisgf @elordilover @somegirlfromasgard @hpyjw @colorthecosmos444 @thewhispersofthewaves @mattslolita @imwetforyourmom @mrl217 @delilahsversion @sturnsmia @mattsfavbitchhh @sturnioloshacker @soursturniolo @blahbel668 @sarosfilms @moncherriis @tobesolonelyjess @zayyluvz @littlemisswhore

(If you want to be added to the taglist, go to this post)

[theonewiththefanfics]

The Panic of Love (one-shot)

Synopsis: Emotions don't come easy to Carmen. They never have. But when his feelings come to a boiling point, it's not like a pot on a stove you can close. They spill out. And change everything. The question is - is he ready to face that change?

Pairing: Carmen (Carmy) barzatto x fem!roommate!Reader

Genre: fluff, a bit of angst, SMUT (softest smut I've ever written)

Warnings: swearing, Carmy being hard on himself, SMUT

Word count: 7929

The weather channel was a goddamned fucking liar, and the weatherman too.

When Y/N finally entered The Bear, she was soaked to the bone, teeth chattering, and every possible expletive on the tip of her tongue because all the weatherman had said was it’d be cloudy. Not a fucking hurricane in sight. What a load of bullshit that had been.

It was a Saturday, her day off, unlike Carmen’s, the man who’d been her roommate for the past year, and when he’d left early in the morning, the Chicago sky still dark and void of any sun rays, she’d said she’d stop by for some of Marcus’s doughnuts and maybe a sandwich to take back home.

Carmen had raised a brow at her. “You know if you want a sandwich, all you have to do is ask, right?”

Y/N scoffed, rolling over and snuggling into her pillow. “You spend your whole day cooking food. I’m not going to make you work when you’re home.”

“No, really, I don’t mind –,”

“Nope.” She just shook her head. “Home is for relaxing, not working. Besides, kinda wanted to go on a walk today anyway. This will give me a reason to.”

Now though she wanted the weather channel to get struck by lightning. And the weatherman too.

“Well, you look like you just crawled out of a sewer,” Richie, Carmen’s cousin who he run The Bear with, said with a smirk.

The thunder that rumbled outside matched the look on Y/N’s face. “Fuck off, maybe?”

Richie just chuckled. “Coffee?”

“Yes please,” she sighed and eyed the menu above. She’d been to The Bear a few times, even before she’d gotten Carmen as a roommate, but always liked to try something new. Maybe a staple this time. “Carmy said Marcus was working on some doughnuts?”

Richie hummed in confirmation while he poured her a to-go cup of steaming bean juice. “Just in time for the batch to come out, actually.”

And it was like those had been the magic words as she saw Carmen with a big pan enter the front of the house, placing the still-warm circles of heaven behind the glass. He was about to rush back into the kitchen, but he lifted his gaze for just a split second, Y/N’s Y/E/C eyes meeting his striking blue ones, and stopped dead in his tracks.

“The fuck happened to you?” His tone wasn’t harsh, more so concerned as she surveyed her from where she was leaving an unmistakable puddle underneath her.

“Went for a swim?” She shrugged. “There was nothing in the morning news about a bloody tsunami, so I didn’t take an umbrella. It only started raining when I was halfway here. It’s not like I was gonna turn back around.”

Richie put her coffee on the countertop with a smirk, as he eyed Y/N and his cousin. He turned his mischievous eyes towards her. “How many?”

“Four,” she replied, putting her hand in the inside pocket of her jacket where her wallet sat. Even that was soaked through. “And the Italian beef sandwich as well, please.”

Carmen stood there, his arms crossed over his chest, and Y/N couldn’t deny that the way his biceps flexed was anything short of salivating worthy, so much so she had to avert her gaze towards the box Richie was filling.

“You gonna make her the sandwich, cousin?”

“Not if she plans on going home with it.”

“Why not?” Y/N snapped her head towards him, her tone like an offended child’s.

Carmen scoffed. “As if I’d ever let you go out in that torrential rain.” He nudged with his chin to the weather outside. “Give me a plate, she’ll have it in my office.”

“Carmy, I’m not the Wicked Witch of the West. I won’t melt.” Y/N sighed but gave him a soft smile.

His own lips tugged up at the corners, voice much more gentle now. “And I’m not gonna let you get sick. Now come on. You can eat the sandwich in the office and put the clothes on the heaters to dry out. I have some spare ones I can give you.”

“Bear,” she started, but he already had put the made sandwich on the plate and was waiting for her to follow.

With a deep sigh, Y/N hung her head and grabbed the box of doughnuts and her coffee.

“Sorry for the puddle,” she said over her shoulder to Richie.

“Nah, it’s fine. I’ll just tell everyone you peed yourself.”

All Y/N did was flip him the bird before entering the kitchen.

She’d met the chefs a few times when Carmen had invided her to family, and she truly loved each and every one of them. Sydney, Tina, and Sugar had even added Y/N to their group chat, but their interactions in real life were limited to moments like these or when they came to Carmen’s and her apartment to try out some new recipe on a day off. Carmen usually regretted introducing his roommate to them because absolute chaos reigned then.

“You do know swimming in clothes is dangerous, right?” Marcus called from the back of the kitchen where he was rolling out some dough.

“Ha ha, very funny. Just remember,” she shook the box in her hands in his direction. “The fate of your doughnut recipe is in my hands.”

“Be gentle with me, I’m sensitive,” Marcus said, making Y/N snort, and Sydney rolled her eyes from where she was concentrating on chopping up some vegetables but waving at her in greeting nonetheless.

“Don’t you look like a New York rat,” Sugar chuckled as she appeared from the freezer, Tina on her toes.

“Thanks, it’s my new aesthetic,” Y/N batted her eyelashes, and she would’ve continued to stand there and talk with everyone else had Carmen not nudged her in the side and wrapped an arm around her waist, turning her towards the office.

“You need to get in some dry clothes, and then you can blabber about. Don’t need you to catch death.”

Y/N looked at him, raising a brow. “Yes, because I act as if I’m dying when I get the sniffles. Not you. No, never you.”

“Just get in the office.” But the smile on Carmen’s face was unmistakable.

He placed her sandwich on top of a stack of papers, not really caring about them and went to rummage in his backpack where he’d put a spare pair of sweats and a jumper, he’d worn underneath his jacket that morning. Winter was approaching Chicago, so layering was starting to become a standard.

Carmen sat down on the chair, untying the laces of her boots. “Come on, step out of them. Socks too.”

Y/N did as told and tried to keep her thoughts at a PG-13 kind of a place, but Carmen, almost on his knees before her, did horrible things to her mind. Horrible, terrible, salacious, delicious things.

She put her hands on his shoulders and rested against them, hopping out of the squelching boots and letting him put some warm woollen socks on her feet he’d also placed in the backpack with him.

Once that was done, he went to the heater and put the wet boots and socks below it, giving Y/N the change of clothes and showing where the bathroom was.

When she was back in his office, not without a sly look from Syd, to which she just grumbled, “Don’t you dare start,” he pointed at the chair and made her sit down.

“Now you’ll eat your sandwich and doughnuts, drink your coffee, and I’ll let you leave only when the rain stops,” he instructed her like she was one of his chefs.

“But I feel bad,” Y/N whined. “It’s already shitty enough I’ve intruded on you and taken you away from work, I don’t want to inconvenience you more as is.”

His brow furrowed immediately at her words. “Don’t say that. You’re never an inconvenience, you hear? Never.”

For a moment, it seemed like he was going to say something more, but shook his head no. “Eat your food, drink your coffee and relax, okay?”

“Okay,” Y/N whispered back with a gentle smile, her heart thudding just a bit harder against her ribcage at his words, at his caring. “Thank you, Bear.”

With a small nod and a smile, he left Y/N and ventured back into the chaos of The Bear’s kitchen.

Suddenly, the sandwich tasted a million times better.

***

When he finally got home, Carmen was exhausted. Those couple of hours Y/N had spent at The Bear with him were the most reprieve he’d had from stress in ages. Though he was upset she’d gotten soaked through and not looking forward to the cold she was gonna get after braving that weather, he couldn’t deny the warmth that’d settled in his chest when he’d seen her face at the front of the house. However, all those warm feelings turned into dust when he saw what Y/N had made for herself for dinner.

“What the fuck is that?”

Y/N jumped back from the fridge, a hand against her heart. “Jesus fucking Christ, Carmy! You scared me shitless. When did you come home?”

“I asked, what the fuck is that?” His eyes didn’t waver away from the plate on the counter. Two string cheeses, five pickles, a Reeces Pieces cup, a dollop of Biscoff spread and some breadsticks. It was like the world’s worst charcuterie board to which Y/N was just about to add two slices of pepperoni.

As if in slow motion, Y/N turned her head to look at the plate and then back at him. “Girl dinner?” the statement came out more like a question.

“Girl what?”

“You know, girl dinner.” She shrugged, closing the fridge, and plopping the round pieces of meat onto it.

“No,” he shook his head. “Absolutely not. First, you come to the restaurant soaking wet and probably have pneumonia, and now this sort of bullshit? Not on my watch.”

He tried to reach for the plate, but Y/N was quicker, grabbing it and sprinting underneath Carmy to the sofa.

“Y/N, give it to me, and I’ll make you something of substance.”

“This is substance.” She popped a pickle in her mouth and chewed it.

Carmen huffed, placing his hands on his hips. “Why the hell are you so against me making you some normal food, yet instead you eat… that.”

“What do you mean by that? This is a fully balanced meal – main course,” she pointed at the savory things, “and dessert,” at the sweet things. “Perfectly balanced as all things should be.”

“Don’t quote Thanos at me,” Carmen shook his head. “That’s not doing you any favors right now. Now, give that to me, and I’ll make anything you want.”

Y/N moved the plate behind herself, still standing atop the couch and squinting at him in a challenge. “Make me.”

Something rushed through his body, a flash of heat so intense it almost took his breath away. And call him crazy, but he was almost a hundred per cent sure he saw something glint in her eyes as well, a certain need, but he shook those thoughts away.

Carmen sighed and hung his head. “Please give that plate to me, okay?”

“And what if I want my pickles and cheese?”

“Why do you want to torture me? What did I ever do to you?” but he said that with a chuckle, and his heart skipped a beat as a smile bloomed on Y/N’s face.

“And I told you in the morning,” she hopped off the couch and popped a half a Reece’s in her mouth, “I will not let you cook for me. You’ve done enough of that at work, so sit down and just relax. I won’t perish like some sickly Victorian child if I don’t have proper dinner every now and then.”

He glowered as she passed him and poured herself a cup of water. “And how many times have you exactly had this “girl dinner?””

They continued on like that for close to two weeks – he’d get home, and Y/N would rush to hide what was on her plate before he scolded her. It all came crashing down one evening when he’d walked inside the bathroom, ready to take a shower after a gruelling day at work when he noticed the changes.

“Y/N?” he called out, still holding the shirt and pants he’d taken off in his hands, eyes scanning the little shelf of his stuff. “Can you please come in here?”

He heard the quick pattering of feet before a breathless Y/N appeared around the corner, a strappy sleep top and shorts on with a half-eaten pickle in her hand. Her and her damned pickles. “What? What’s wrong?”

“That.” He nudged his chin towards the shelf. “Where’s all my stuff?”

“That is your stuff.”

“No,” his brow furrowed. “I literally have one shampoo bottle. This is like – twenty different things. Where did they come from?”

She rolled her eyes. “It’s not twenty, it’s exactly how many one person needs. Besides, you ran out. So, I went to the store and got you some.”

Carmen stammered, still scanning the bottles, but his heart was beating faster in his chest now. She’d gotten them for him without him even asking. She’d thought of him when she’d gone out to the store. He stuttered for a second before looking at the girl leaning against the door frame, chewing on the last bits of the pickle. “At – at least let me pay you back.”

“Absolutely not,” she scoffed, truly offended now. “You don’t let me eat "girl dinner", which, by the way, I enjoy, but I digress. So, don’t think I’m gonna let you use that 10-in-1 abomination." She pointed at two matching bottles. "Shampoo and conditioner, both specifically for curly hair because god knows what you’ve been doing to them is abuse. Body wash and face wash, and no, they cannot be used interchangeably.” She pointed at the other two bottles, explaining what was what and turning around to where on the towel rack three fluffy ones had been placed, all different sizes and colors. “A towel for your body, one for your hair and one for your face.”

“That’s way too many towels.”

“No, that’s precisely the right amount of towels,” she emphasized.

“Y/N…”

“Okay, fine. If you don’t want any of this, no problem.” She shrugged. “Can I go eat my pickles and cheese strings then?”

Immediately, his exasperated look turned into a dark scowl. “Don’t you fucking dare.” He’d already popped a handmade pizza in the oven and had simply allowed Y/N to snack in the meantime. No "girl dinner" on his watch.

All Y/N did was smirk. “Thought so. It’s called a compromise, Carmy,” she squeezed his bicep. “You take care of me, I take care of you, simple as that. Besides, I ran out of my stuff, so it made sense to pick up some stuff for you too.”

And with a peck on his cheek, Y/N left the bathroom, going to rummage in her closet for a blanket for their movie night. But Carmen just stood there, looking at the place where she’d just been.

You take care of me, I take care of you.

Those words echoed in his head like a broken record.

But that’s what they had been doing for one another, wasn’t it? He took care of her, she took care of him.

He made sure she ate proper food and gave her some spare clothes that one morning so she wouldn’t have to brave the rain and get sick. He’d let her stay in the office, clad in his jumper and sweats as she waited for her socks and shoes to dry out. He held her on the nights when the heating turned off in the apartment, and she was shivering in her bed. He helped her through insomnia-filled nights Y/N tended to have when stress from work wound her up to the point she could barely function even though he was dead tired himself.

And Y/N... she always made sure he didn’t bottle up his emotions. She was there for him, listened to his rants, held him when he needed just that, and made sure he always had food in the fridge, not just some pathetic scraps he put together for his own meals. She helped him do the laundry and never complained when instead of their set movie night, he simply came home and collapsed half on top of her on the sofa, dead tired from the shift at The Bear, running her hands over his tired muscles and letting him drift off to sleep in her safe embrace.

They took care of one another.

But not just that.

No.

Not for him.

Because Carmen knew - to him it meant so much more.

He knew he was completely in love with her and would do anything to make sure she was happy.

He peeked out from the bathroom and into the living room, looking at Y/N, how she flitted around the room, leaving chaos behind herself, but god, did he love that chaos. Carmen hadn’t even realized up until that moment, how much he wanted to see her strewn about clothes on the couch, her scattered shoes and used mugs on the countertops. Because it made him feel like he was truly home. Not just in a house he stayed at. Home.

She was his home.

Carmen had entered the living room, standing by the couch and watching how Y/N pulled the pizza out of the oven, dicing up some basil to sprinkle on the still bubbling cheese and tomato sauce while adding some burger sauce on the half she’d claimed as hers, leaving Carmen’s half free for him to add what he wanted.

She turned around in search of the pizza cutter and lifted her eyes, their gazes locking. “You okay, Bear?”

He just stood there, unable to move or speak as his mind ran a mile a minute. And then a string wrapped around his chest and started to tighten. And he couldn’t breathe anymore.

Carmen doesn’t remember when exactly he dropped to his knees, pain shooting up his legs from smashing onto the tiled kitchen floor, but he didn’t drop fully. Y/N’s hands were instantly on his shoulders, palms rushing to cup his face as she tried to figure out what was going on. He didn’t doubt she found pure panic in his eyes. Instantly, she knew what to do.

“Breathe with me, okay?” She took his palm and pressed it to the centre of her chest, his fingers splayed against the skin. “Just breathe.”

And he tried to mimic her, focus on how her chest rose and fell, matching his own breathing to Y/N’s. Feel how her heart beat underneath her skin.

Pathetic, he thought. He can’t even tell the girl he’s in love with his feelings without having a full-blown panic attack.

“Carmy, breathe,” she soothed, pulling his forehead to hers, letting him ground himself in the physical contact Y/N provided. She was solid. Real. There.

Bit by bit, he felt the huge wave of panic recede, but it lingered, like a tsunami waiting to break and rip everything away in its wake.

“What happened?” her voice was low as if she was talking to a wild animal afraid to spook it. “What brought this on?”

“I don’t – I,” he took in greedy gulps of air as Y/N rubbed his back. “I can’t…”

Because he couldn’t. It would ruin everything, wouldn’t it? They had such a good thing going not only as roommates, but as friends, and him confessing he was in love would just shatter that bit of normalcy, and stability he’d managed to create.

Besides, Y/N would never feel the same way about him. Yes, she was kind and sweet and always made sure Carmen took care of himself, but that’s just who she was as a person.

Her grip on the back of his neck tightened, stopping the spiral his mind was falling into.

“Talk to me.” She whispered. “Please, Carmy, talk to me. I need to know what happened so I can help you.”

“I can’t tell you,” he finally got out in between gasps of air. “I can’t. Please don’t make me say it.”

He was shaking his head, but not pulling away. Not that she’d let him, as her nails slowly and gently scraped along the nape of his neck.

“What’s so bad that you can’t tell me?” Y/N murmured.

“It’s not,” he huffed, trying to get a grip on his words. “It’s not bad… I – I don’t think it’s bad…”

“Then why can’t you tell me?”

He bit down hard on his lip, taking a moment to collect himself. “Because it will change things. And I’m scared of how it could change.”

“But change isn’t always so bad. Just look at The Bear, look at how good the restaurant is doing.”

“This is nothing like the restaurant.”

“Then how is it?”

He thought for a moment, eyes closed, focusing on Y/N and her presence.

“Bear, please talk to me. You just had a fucking panic attack seemingly from nowhere, and I’m – I’m scared,” she pleaded.

His eyes snapped up to meet her incredibly worried ones, and yes, scared. She tried to read whatever was on his face, to find an explanation as to what had set it off.

“I – I’m terrified. I’m so fucking terrified,” he whispered.

“It’s okay to feel that way. But I’m here, okay? I won’t let you go through this alone.”

He took in a shuddering breath, breaking their eye contact because he couldn’t do it, not if she was looking at him so intensely. The words were barely audible, but she most definitely heard them. “I’m in love with you.”

There. He’d said it, and he couldn’t take those words back. They were out in the open, and the ball was in Y/N’s court. But to his surprise, her forehead didn't move from his. He could feel the light puffs of air as she breathed out, a slight stutter in the pattern. “And why were you so scared to tell me that?”

“I – I don’t,” and his brain started to swirl again, but Y/N was there, her gentle fingers playing with the small hairs at the nape of his neck, grounding him back in reality. Carmen took a deep breath. “I’m so scared. Of what you’ll say. I can’t lose you, I can’t lose one more person I love. But I also know you deserve so much better than what I can offer. I’m a mess. I can’t afford much. I can’t give you what you deserve. I can barely deal with my emotions, and I have so many issues I sometimes wonder how I’m not completely on my own��� But… and I know how selfish this sounds, but I don’t want you to want better… I want you to want me the same way I want you… how need you.”

“Carmy,” Y/N sighed brushing her hand against his cheek. “You will never lose me, alright? Never. As long as you want me around you, I’ll be here. I think you could kill someone, and I’d be there for you to help and get rid of the body. As for that other thing…” she bit her lip. “I don’t think I could ever find anything better than you. Nor do I want to. Not when I already have found you.”

That’s when his eyes finally opened, her Y/E/C ones gazing at him. She gave him a shy smile. “Call us two pathetic clichés for falling for the roommate, but the thought of you going on a date with someone else would probably send me into a complete spiral. Because I do want you the same way you want me. If you’ll have me.”

And that horrible, suffocating tightness in Carmen’s chest released. It was like after years of barely breathing, he could finally get a breath in, and the air tasted so fresh, so filling, it was intoxicating. A drowning man finally coming up for air.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Y/N chuckled, her thumb brushing against his cheek. “I don’t buy shampoos and body washes and all that shit just for anyone. They were fucking expensive.”

His responding laughter was light. He felt so fucking light, it was amazing.

“I really want to kiss you,” Carmen’s voice was more confident, though still tentative as if he was afraid to push further and cross some boundary, eyes flitting to the ground.

He could hear her small intake of breath before Y/N said, “Well, I’m definitely not ever going to be opposed to that.”

Gradually, his palms roved over her waist and settled against her cheeks, their eyes not breaking away from one another.

Another wave of fear rushed through him, but when Y/N’s fingers splayed themselves against the small of his back, trying to push him closer to her, those fears were diminished. For a minute, he just breathed her in, drank in the feeling of having her so close to him, but when he finally kissed her, when he finally had her lips against his, he pretty much melted. The way her hands wove around his neck and into his hair, as if Y/N couldn’t get closer to him if she tried, was as close to heaven as he’d ever get in this life.

“Can I take you to bed?” His head was spinning as he pulled back for a breath, lips craving to be put back on Y/N’s, but he’d die if he at least didn’t ask. Carmen was trembling so bad he had to bury his face in her neck for a moment to steel himself.

“Are you sure?” Y/N asked, breathless, chest heaving, fingers digging into the bare muscles of his back. 

She knew he’d never had a relationship, and what he’d just done – the confession, the kiss - had been a huge step on its own. But when he finally pulled back, and she scanned his eyes, looked deep into them, Carmen knew all she saw was one hundred per cent conviction. He couldn’t deny the pleasure it elicited in him as he felt a shiver run through Y/N’s body at that, her pupils blowing so wide it almost swallowed the Y/E/C color, two black desire-filled pools devouring him.

“Never been more sure of anything.” His voice was low, and soft, but steady, unlike his heart.

Her responding kiss was more than enough of an answer.

Carmen was shirtless, so he thought it to be only fair if he rid Y/N of her shirt, but she was a lot quicker and had it yanked over her head in a split second, so much so he barely noticed the disconnect between their lips, and then she was back on him again. They kissed for a little bit more before he practically itched to take it to the bed.

He wrapped his arms around her waist and helped her stand, and Y/N hissed.

Worry instantly ate at him, making him pull back and scan her from head to toe. “What’s wrong?”

She straightened out, rubbing at her knees. “Making out on the kitchen tiles does nothing for your knees.”

Once again, that tightness starting to coil around his heart, released as he intertwined their fingers and led her to his room. It was simply closer. Carmen could have done with the couch, but he thought she deserved their first time to be on an actual bed where he could properly show just how deep his feelings ran. If saying what he felt was so difficult, maybe showing would be easier for him.

Along the way, he’d rid her of her bra, letting his hands explore Y/N’s body and figuring out what made her sigh and moan and what she didn’t like, so he could focus on doing exactly what made her lose her mind.

He helped her shimmy out of her shorts and threw them somewhere over his shoulder as they stumbled into the room, and she plopped backwards onto the bed.

Carmen leaned over her, hands resting by her head while Y/N pulled him back down to kiss him again. He knew his vices, like cigarettes, but this had to be the newest one, the strongest one he knew he’d never be able to quit now that he’d gotten a taste. Never wanted to quit.

A shrill ring stopped them dead in their tracks. It took him a moment to understand it was his phone ringing.

“Stupid fucking piece of shit,” he grumbled as he peeled himself off Y/N and rummaged through his jacket pockets to find the offending piece of technology. Not even looking at who was calling, he turned the phone completely off so there were no more disturbances.

When he turned back around, he found Y/N kicking her underwear to the ground and crawling onto the duvet.

“I wanted to do that,” he murmured, seeing her naked on his bed.

Y/N raised a brow. “Would you like me to put them back on?”

“Absolutely fucking not, I’m not an idiot.”

Her responding smile made his heart soar.

In an instant, he was back atop her, kissing and grabbing at whatever he could before he slowly traveled down. Carmen relished in the hitch in her breath and the soft way she pleaded his name.

He could spend forever like that – worshipping against her skin. He didn’t need water, didn’t need food or anything else as long as Y/N allowed him to do stay by her side.

Digging his fingers into her thighs, Carmen spread them wide as he made his way down her body before he found himself right where he’d wanted to be for ages now.

“Carmy, wait,” she breathed out, and he instantly stopped, worry blooming in his chest.

“I -,” she huffed. “I want tonight to be about you. It should be about you, not me.”

 “Oh, believe me,” he smiled, kissing and biting down on the inside of her thigh before soothing the bite with a kiss, and Y/N’s hips were already rolling up to meet his mouth. “All of this is for me.”

She could do nothing but whimper out, “All for you, only you, Bear,” and let her eyes roll to the back of her head as he finally put his mouth on her.

Maybe later on, he’d confess how many times he’d actually thought about that moment, of having Y/N’s legs over his shoulders with her hands brushing his hair out of his face and tugging at the strands. How he’d dreamt of letting his tongue lick into her and finally taste the best dessert on the planet. Or how he’d once seen her early in the morning with nothing but one of his shirts, that’d gotten mixed up in the wash, a simple pair of cotton panties on and nothing else. He’d had to go back inside the shower and jerk himself off, otherwise, he’d be sporting a raging hard-on for the rest of the day.

But now – now he’d just be enjoying the moment. Revelling in how Y/N’s heels dug into his back, how she tried to pull him closer to herself as if she wanted them to mould together. Relishing in how her nails scraped against his scalp, his tongue circling around her clit while her hips gently rolled against him in a slow rhythm. But most importantly – how she sang his name like a prayer, how she sighed and moaned it into the night air, a symphony only for him to hear.

“Carmy, shit!” Y/N gasped when two thick digits joined and slowly slid inside her.

He lifted two lustful eyes to watch how her mouth dropped open, breasts heaving, and nipples hardened to points, but the most divine moment was when she opened her eyes and looked down at him.

Their gazes met, and it took just a couple of thrusts of his fingers for the Y/E/C eyes to roll to the back of her head, and she was squeezing tight around him, cumming with a moan of his name.

Carmen didn’t let go. He helped her ride out the high, tongue licking and sucking everything Y/N offered like he’d been a man in a drought. Only when she gently tugged his head away, did he let go of her swollen clit.

“Too much,” she whispered out, trying to regain some sense of bearing while he kissed the inside of her thighs. He rested a cheek against one while she carded her fingers through his hair, strands stuck to his sweaty skin.

Finally, Y/N glanced down at him. She extended an awaiting hand. “C’mere please.”

Carmen couldn’t say no. He’d never be able to say no to her. He didn’t want to. If she asked him to kiss her, he’d kiss her breathless. If she asked him to drop to his knees, he’d worship the ground she walked on. If she asked him to say he loved her, he’d give his heart to her on a silver platter. Or maybe not. It was already in her hands, and for the first time in his life, he knew someone would carry it on velvet hands, take care of it, and love it like he’d so desperately hoped.

Y/N moaned when his tongue invaded her mouth, hands cradling his face, the remnants of her orgasm still on his tongue. Her hands grabbed at his ass as if offended he was still in his boxers as she pushed her fingers behind the band and tried to shimmy them off him.

A light chuckle escaped him at her frustration, so to stop her torture, he helped her out by removing the last bit of clothing left between them. Now they were skin to skin with nothing else separating the two.

“Condom?” she asked.

“Shit, I don’t have any,” he muttered, pulling back from the kiss.

“Neither do I.”

For a moment, everything stood still. “Listen, we don’t have to do this,” he said, nervousness overtaking his body. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to just because of what happened right now.”

“I mean,” she huffed, playing with the hair on the back of his neck. “I’m clean. Are – are you?”

Carmen snorted. “I think it’s fair to say, I am clean since I haven’t been with anyone in forever… not like this.” Another wave of anxiety rolled over him, but Y/N instantly quenched his fears of inadequacy that threatened to overtake him.

“I mean, maybe you’re some midnight Casanova I just don’t know about it.”

That made him smile, and a little bit of anxiety left him.

“We don’t have to go any further than this if you don’t want to, but I’m on the pill, and I don’t mind.” She pecked his lips. “We go at your pace.”

“And what if – what if I want to go further? What if I want it to be with you? All of it with you?”

He saw Y/N swallow and nod. “Then we go however far you want. Just as long as you’re sure about it.”

“I just…” He struggled to find the words before settling on a thought. “Can you just… guide me?” he asked, brushing a finger against her collarbone. “Help me make you feel good?”

“It should be good for you too. So…” She pulled him down for a kiss, biting on his lower lip and making him groan. “Don’t worry too much about me. You just gave me the best head I’ve ever had. Now I want you to feel good too.”

Carmen just nodded before he leaned down and placed soft kisses against her neck. He was so overwhelmed by love, by the care Y/N showed him, that he thought he might cry, but she didn’t let him get to it.

When soft hands wrapped around his length, he automatically thrust into the palm, pleasure running through his blood.

She guided him closer, and he took it as a sign to slowly run his cock through her folds. Y/N was already wet from her first orgasm, but as he nudged himself inside, he saw her wince.

“I’m sorry,” he immediately apologized, but she shushed him.

“Just take it slow.” She gave him a small smile. “It’s okay.”

He swallowed. “Are you sure?”

Y/N nodded, giving him a kiss. “It’s just been a while.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You’re not gonna hurt me.” Y/N placed her palm against his cheek. “You could never hurt me.”

After a moment of reassurance, he locked his eyes on her face once more and slowly started to push in again. She helped along, angling her hips a bit more up as he slowly, taking his time, let himself slide into her, Y/N’s walls stretching and adjusting to his girth and length. Carmen felt every ripple, every squeeze and flutter and had she not been begging for him to go all the way in, he probably would’ve just cum then and there.

Finally, their hips rested flush against one another as he slid all the way in. More sweat sprung along his skin, as Carmen tried to hold himself at bay, letting Y/N adjust. The last thing he’d ever want to do is cause her any type of pain. Even make her a tiny bit uncomfortable, so he’d wait until she said she was ready.

She lifted his head from where he rested it against her shoulder, giving him a long kiss. “You can move,” she whispered, gliding her legs up his and letting them cross against his lower back. “Please move.”

And although Y/N'd said to not worry too much about whether she was enjoying herself, Carmen couldn’t do that. Every spare second was spent looking at her face, watching how her eyebrows scrunched in pleasure or how her mouth opened in a moan of his name, because her being in pleasure gave him pleasure.

More sweat sprung along their skins, covering them in a small layer of perspiration, and Carmen kissed Y/N’s chest taking in the salty taste, biting at her neck, her lips and arms, while drowning in the feeling of how her nails dug into his back, and her teeth bit against his shoulder as if she needed to muffle screams of pleasure, marking him as hers.

Every flutter and squeeze against his cock sent more and more ripples of bliss through him, but it was the way she sighed his name, so full of adoration and pleasure and love, that did it for him.

White exploded across his vision as the tight coil that’d been rolling together in his abdomen finally released. His fingers dug into Y/N’s skin harder, anchoring him to the moment and not letting him slip away, making him tether himself to her and what had just transpired, while she tumbled along, a high-pitched whine ringing through the night, her hips locking his in place as she rode out her own orgasm.

It felt like it took ages for him to come back down to reality, chest heaving, tightly pressed to the woman’s underneath him, his hands digging into the soft flesh of her hips with his mouth open in a faltered breath.

His whole body felt like it was made of jelly, his bones turned liquid, and the only thing keeping him from melting fully was Y/N’s soft motions as she dragged her fingers across his back, soothing where her nails had dug into his back so deliciously.

“Was that – was that good… for you?” the words were timid, his eyes unsure as he searched Y/N’s face for any signs she hadn’t enjoyed it.

Her hand lightly rested against his cheek, eyes still closed, a blissful smile on her face. “Ask me that again when I remember how to speak English.”

Carmen’s heart fluttered, and a bashful smile bloomed on his kiss-swollen lips. “You are speaking English.”

Finally, Y/N’s eyes opened, a glazed, almost drunk look to them. “Really? Because you’ve definitely scrambled my brain. Holy shit, Bear.”

He chuckled and leaned in to press a kiss against her lips, a satisfied hum escaping her as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, pulling him closer and using his body as a blanket.

After a bit of coaxing from him, Y/N relented and let him go, so he could make sure she went into the bathroom and peed. He might not have much experience sexually or relationshipwise, but he knew the basics and didn’t want her to get a UTI.

He waited for her by the door, and when she exited, probably having expected him to be in bed, the soft smile on her lips made the butterflies in his stomach roil.

“Hungry?” Carmen allowed himself to touch her, a gentle finger running along her collarbone. “We still have that pizza. It’s probably cold by now though.”

She shrugged. “I’ll never say no to pizza.”

“You did yesterday.”

“Because I’d already eaten!”

Carmen scoffed. “A jar of olives is not a meal!”

***

The next day was Sunday which meant Y/N still had a day off, and Carmen had promised he’d sleep in with her even though he needed to open The Bear. They’d spent the rest of the night talking and kissing and having more mind-blowing sex, only drifting off when the sun began to rise.  But their rest didn’t last long.

She woke with a start, ripping herself away from Carmen’s warm hold, the cold air instantly making goosebumps appear on her skin. He was up in an instant as well, a warm palm settling on her back as Y/N glared through the wall to the front door.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” she grumbled rubbing at her eyes. “What the fuck is wrong with people.”

“I’ll get it,” Carmen mumbled, a bit more awake as his natural body clock had already brought him out from the deep slumber. Pressing a kiss against her shoulder, a pleasant shiver ran through her body, as he helped her lay back down beneath the duvet. “Be back in a second.”

Y/N could hear his feet patter against the floor as he went to the small cupboard and fished out some clean underwear.  Call her a perv, but she couldn’t not take a peek and admire Carmen’s ass. A smirk came on her face when she realized she’d left some marks there as well, reddish half-moon imprints of her nails settled deep into the skin. Though it didn’t seem he minded it one bit.

Snuggling deeper into the bed, she closed her eyes and waited for Carmen to come back and join her, though once she heard who was at the door, Y/N knew that wouldn’t happen.

           There was slight murmuring for a couple of moments when a loud cackle interrupted the Sunday morning peace.

“Fucking finally, cousin!” Richie’s voice boomed across the apartment and into the bedroom. “Y/N, I hope he treated you right!”

“He treated me perfectly,” she hollered back, understanding there would be no sleeping in anymore. She grabbed one of Carmen’s shirts, fished out a spare pair of his boxers and entered the living room where she found the two – Richie outside in the hallway with the smuggest grin on his face, Carmen with an adorable flush to his cheeks, as he crossed his arms and looked down at the ground, slightly shuffling.

“And I would like a repeat of it,” Y/N grumbled, “but that won’t happen because if you don’t leave right now, I will spend the rest of my life in prison for murder, and I highly doubt they’d let Carmy come on such visits.”

Richie lifted his hands in mock surrender. “I just came to check on dear cousin here. He's never missed his opening shifts, and his phone was completely off. But now I see he was… preoccupied.”

Y/N groaned looking at the clock. She knew it was early, but not six a.m. early. “Murder is illegal, murder is illegal, murder is illegal,” she chanted under her breath as she put on a coffee pot to brew. “Why the fuck is murder illegal?”

“Relax,” Richie chuckled. “No need to resort to violence, I’m already leaving. See you at the kitchen? Actually,” he snapped his fingers and pointed at Carmen. “I’d rather not. We’ll take care of it. You two crazy kids enjoy yourselves.”

“Richie, no I’ll be, there in a couple of hours, just let me -,”

“Nope,” he interrupted his cousin. “Syd will be more than happy to take the lead. Especially, after I tell her why our Carmy was late.”

The aforementioned man dragged a hand down his now scarlet face. “Can you just fucking leave then?”

“I’m going, I’m going.” Richie retreated, and Carmen had almost closed the door when he called out, “Use protection!” and chucked a handful of condoms through the slit.

A louf “fuck you!” was the response he got, and the door finally closed, though they did hear a muffled “I’d rather you fuck each other!” before footsteps retreated down the staircase.

Y/N huffed, taking two cups and filling them with the now-ready coffee, adding two sugars, milk and a dash of brownie syrup to hers. “How upset would you be exactly if I decided to just lightly maim your cousin?”

“Can I help?” Carmen asked with a raised brow, and that elicited a snort from her as she leaned to rest her back against his chest, while two large arms snaked around her waist, and Carmen placed his chin on her shoulder.

“I like my clothes on you, but I gotta admit,” he shyly murmured. “Kinda liked it when you were without any better.”

Y/N’s eyes glimmered as she looked at him through her lashes over her shoulder. “You have every chance to remedy that. I mean, you do have the day off.”

Carmen leaned in and pressed a hot kiss to the side of her neck, the feeling of his lips against her skin making her sigh in pleasure. “I guess I do, huh?”

She felt his body relax against hers, rough fingers skimming her stomach as he swayed them to a song only he heard.

“Come on,” Carmen murmured, pressing a sweet kiss to her lips, his own tasting of the coffee he’d drunk. “Let’s get back into bed.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice.”

They spent hours cuddled up, soft voices interrupting the quiet air of the Chicago morning. Soft words turned into soft moans into soft gasps and pleas and, before long, they were naked again, bodies moving in sync as they reached their peaks together.

And again in the shower, where he slipped into her from behind, after Y/N had washed Carmen’s hair with the new shampoo and conditioner she’d gotten him.

And then on the kitchen counter where he let his tongue explore between her thighs once again, as he made them breakfast despite all her protests of it being his day off and how he shouldn’t be anywhere near a stove.

And then on the sofa where she rode him until she couldn't scream and didn't have a voice anymore as some mindless show played on in the background.

By the time evening came around and they plopped hot and sweaty onto Y/N’s bed because Carmen’s sheets still needed to be changed after the previous night’s escapades, they were satiated and happy.

And undoubtedly very much so in love.

Tags (crossed out wouldn't take):

Everything tags: @palaiasaurus64 @supernaturalbaesduh @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @sea040561 @staryeyedgirl @deathbyarabbit @m-a-t-91 @maladaptive-ninja-returns @averyrogers83 @in-the-end-im-still-trash @gallifreyansass @dewy-biitch @avxgers @unlikelygalaxygiver @magicwithaknife @ollyoxenfrees @bnhvrdy @tvwhoresblog @thatkindofgurl @sj-thefan @lestersglitterglue @im-squished @strangersstrange

A/N: I am back on my bullshit and I am obsessed with this man!!! Why did I wait so long to watch The Bear!!! UGGGGHHHH!!! He makes me go feral!!!!

P.S. what did you think? I might make more parts with these two :)

[fuckyeahgoodomens]

David and Michael interview with Emily Aslanian for TV Insider, 10.7.2023 :)

David: So Gabriel shows up at Aziraphale's bookshop naked. He's lost his memory. Where does that leave our good heroes?

Michael: Well, Aziraphale, for someone who is of a slightly nervous disposition, for a naked... his ex boss to turn up outside his bookshop in Soho in the daytime, naked and wanting a hug, is not necessarily what Aziraphale had on his bingo card that day. But once he comes in and Aziraphale has to take him in, we discover that there is a mystery to be solved.

David: Yes.

Michael: And Aziraphale enjoys a mystery, but doesn't enjoy things like the end of the world or the stakes being that high.

David: He enjoys the mystery a little too much for Crowley's like.

Michael: He does a little bit.

David: Crowley just wants this sorted and he doesn't want you indulging your fantasy of being a private eye.

Michael: That's right, Aziraphale gets to really enjoy that. But they are forced, you know, they're a team of two now anyway, because they become detached from their respective head offices. But this forces them together even more. They've only got each other to rely on and they have to solve this mystery. And the clock is ticking. So it starts a whole chain of events that starts off potentially not being as high stakes as Season One. But as it goes along, we realise the apocalypse was just the beginning.

David: It was nothing! It was a mere bagatelle! How much time passes between Series One and Series Two. Do we know exactly?

Michael: I don't know exactly. But things have changed, obviously, between... I mean, Aziraphale is thoroughly enjoying himself. He's sort of got what he wanted, which is to be able to be in his bookshop, listen to music, watch shows, eat nice meals, drink wine, hang out with Crowley. He's a little disconcerted by not having the company behind him because he's such a company man. So that's a bit strange. But Crowley is...

David: It's not worked out quite so well for Crowley. He has the liberation of being free from Hell breathing down his neck. But he has lost the company apartment. So he is living in his car now with his pot plants. So circumstances are slightly reduced for him and he can't quite let go because we see him on a park bench catching up with Miranda Richardson's character Shax, who's taken over from him, trying to dig up a bit of gossip and find out what's really going on. So they have the freedom of not being watched over. But for Crowley, it's not worked out quite as well as perhaps he imagined.

Michael: What are they looking for in each other, I wonder?

David: In each other...

Michael: Well, I mean, I think, they sort of... on the surface, the things that annoy them the most about each other are actually what they are most compelled by.

David: Crave, yes, yes.

Michael: And so they’re sort of bound together, aren’t they? In all kinds of ways. I think Aziraphale is both infuriated and maddened and very stressed out by Crowley’s constant questioning of things. Things that Aziraphale thinks are just… those are the rules. Crowley being a sort of rule breaker and a rule bender, he finds incredibly stressful. And yet I think that’s sort of what he craves.

David: Drawn to.

Michael: He’s drawn to that.

David: Irrepressibly.

Michael: Yes.

David: Yes. And I think probably Aziraphale’s very consistency and very even-temperedness is something that Crowley kind of craves as well. There’s a sort of security in that which he doesn’t really get anywhere else. But, yes, they bicker away, but clearly with the security of a couple who know they can't really exist without each other. But I don't think... they never really admit what they are to each other. There's sort of understanding that they've only really got each other now, and therefore they rely on each other hugely. And, you know, as soon as Aziraphale is in trouble, he calls up Crowley to come and help him. There's no question there's...

Michael: Someone once said, what do any of us have but our illusions? And what do we ask of anyone but that we be allowed to keep them?

David: That's... who once said that? Should I not ask you that?

Michael: Don't ask me.

David: Don't ask you that.

Michael: Let me just say that.

David: It's lovely.

Michael: And sounds clever.

David: Michael Sheen once said something about illusions. It was really nice.

Michael: Whenever you hear someone say, 'A wise man once said', it's usually me.

David: It is usually you.

[tarot-archives]

please imagine laios who just came to the island. no connections. no background. he has his sister, a few coins in his satchel, and a dream. but it wasn’t easy. finding a job is tough. most of the time, it’s falin the other parties want, not him. they don’t have money to spare for extra weight.

laios the big brother. laios the supposed provider can’t even feed his sister proper food. he does odd jobs outside the dungeon for a good meal then they sleep under the stars. feeding was hard enough so a room was out of the question. they eventually joined the wanderers who sleep in tents and was kind enough to spare him a blanket.

in his job hunting, laios can’t help but be distracted from the inviting smell from one of the inns. his nose leads him to a dark alleyway, thinking that maybe if he ate his hard bread while smelling the aromatic food, his meal might be better mentally.

laios spots a dog from the back door. the puppy was had a rope on its neck as a leash to keep it tied. he couldn’t help but smile. laios squats down and plays with the puppy, a reminder of his past with having so many dogs and a cat. the black puppy enthusiastically barks and barks. it’s happy to have someone to play with after a while of staying in the cold. laios had the urge to steal him away. no one should leave a small thing like him in the dark.

the frequent barks caught your attention. it might be an intruder or your puppy was causing trouble so you had to go and check. your eyes land on a man, thin and possibly malnourished, playing with potchi, your dog. you don’t miss the way this strangers shined once the light hit his eyes at first. he quickly stood, towering over you in fact. despite being a tall-man yourself, your smaller height doesn’t testify your race.

this man was apologetic at first, then enthusiastic as the conversation continues. he talks about your dog, then about his experience with dogs, then he lectures you about dogs. needless to say you were interested. he was a walking archive, knowledgable and charming in his own way. he seemed harmless compared to the men who frequent the inn. big, burly guys with a bad attitude just because they can enter the dungeon and kill monsters.

his eyes however doesn’t meet yours. you followed his stare to the plate of food you had at the table. and on cue, his tummy rumbles.

“are you hungry?” you asked. he doesn’t deny his hunger and immediately says yes. his actions were like potchi during his meals. he’s cute, endearing, and excited. if he had a tail, he would be wagging it. “here, as thank you for the dog information.”

you bring him a plate of hot food (a bit of extra from todays pot) and he gobbles it up. save for a good portion he says it’s for his sister.

cute, endearing, excited, and thoughtful… he has this appeal. and goodness! don’t you know not to entertain men who play with puppies and have bright eyes. too much of those heart felt romance books warn about men like him. but you shoo your thoughts away.

“listen, you can finish up your plate. i can give you another serving for your sister,” you offered.

“thank you. you’re so kind… er…” i scratched his head. “i don’t even have your name.”

you tell him your name as he told you his. laios… you test it on your tongue. you don’t know why your heart is at ease just speaking his name out loud. you say it again with an offer this time, “come to the inn tomorrow, at 4 am if you can. we need extra hands to bring in new items. i’d pay you with food though, will that be fine, laios?”

he smiled brightly for a man previously starved. a new excitement bubbles within him with the promise to meet you again tomorrow.

“bring your sister too okay? food is better served hot after all,” you smiled. laios took you hand as he shakes it. his energy seeping into you through his hold, but the coldness of his fingers concerned you. “tell me if you need anything okay? us tall-man have to stick together.”

laios wanted to hug you. wrap his arms to show his appreciation, but he knows when to stop. he’s not that clean after all. so he settles with a hand shake, noticing how warm you are body wise and not just through your personality. “thank you! i’ll be here on time! i promise.”

soon after, you waved a final good bye to laios. excitement blooms within you as you wait for tomorrow to come as quickly as it could.

requests? open.

[soldat-buck]

i had a vision while making coffee this morning

bg3 culinary headcanons: Companion Edition

- Shadowheart: absolute zero regard for contamination while cooking. kitchen habits of a permanent bachelor. licks the tasting spoon clean and keeps using it to cook. eats hot cocoa straight out of the container with a spoon. thinks pouring ranch over an entire head of lettuce and eating it like feral animal while holding it over the kitchen sink counts as "salad". if you can get past the contamination thing, the food she makes actually tastes pretty good, even if it's sometimes odd (she cooks like a stoner, despite being perfectly sober. she is just Like That).

- Astarion: perfectly capable of cooking, and actually can cook quite well. food may not taste the same after becoming a vampire, but his enhanced sense of smell tells him nearly everything he needs to know about how to season and cook food properly. he doesn't cook because he doesn't like to (washing dishes? by hand? no fucking thank you, being undead is harsh enough on the nails and skin. finding a good lotion for normal undead dryness is already impossible)

- Lae'zel: in the modern world, if her life took her in a chef direction, she'd be in a Michelin star restaurant as the world's best and most terrifying sous chef. she absolutely would throw a knife at you for fucking up her plating (she'd intentionally miss. the first time). no nonsense is ever tolerated in her kitchen, but that doesn't necessarily mean she's got temper issues (her coldness and lack of tantrums is what makes her terrifying). she'd put Gordon Ramsay in his place for his rage theatrics and then make him weep with joy after serving him the most competent omelet he's ever had in his life. if she likes you, you may address her as "Yes, Chef!" outside of the kitchen.

- Karlach: uses 4 pots to make ramen. not because she's doing anything fancy or elaborate with it, the first pot was too small and started boiling over (whoops). the second one was, oh hold on, that's a cast iron pan, maybe you're not supposed to use that for boiling liquids, huh? wait shit, can't use this one either, i'm not supposed to use metal spoons on nonstick, don't want to scratch it. There we go! this one is the right size! and if i scratch this one, it's fine! wait, where the fuck did the flavor packet go (you should definitely be concerned about leaving her alone for the weekend)

- Wyll: very resourceful cook due to his Blade of the Frontier days. can improvise a meal out of damn near anything. can identify every edible plant and mushroom and tell you how to use it in a dish. would carry an herb garden in his adventure pack if he could. would absolutely thrive on the show Chopped (he's actually banned from auditioning again because it's not fair to the other competitors to have him on). he could make you a dessert featuring rattlesnake and fresh picked clover, and you don't know how or why, but you actually like it

- Gale: approaches the kitchen the same way he approaches most things in his life - academically. knows the proper safe temperature to cook meats/etc to, knows how to brown an onion, knows what seasonings are typically used together for certain flavor profiles and how to match seasonings to proteins. knife work sucks because he uses mage hand for mise en place and his mage hand has shitty DEX, but he's scared of his chef knife from the one time he sliced his thumb open (he was cutting an onion with improper hand placement and the knife slipped)

- Minsc: would exclusively eat by dumpster diving if it weren't for Boo's disapproval. eats like a human garbage disposal. he will eat a n y t h i n g that fits in his mouth, he is the least picky eater you will ever meet. does not understand how food challenges in the show Fear Factor are supposed to be challenges

- Halsin: world class forager. very competent hunter. prefers to eat everything as raw as possible. understands but doesn't believe in strict food safety because obviously stomach acid kills germs (and anyway, a little dirt here and there never killed anyone; exposure to germs is good for your immune system). open-mouthed kissing him is gambling with your health. makes the best vegetarian salads but do not trust any chicken he has "cooked". people with weak CON might want to consider avoiding his food

- Jaheira: uses Talk to Animals to Cinderella/Ratatouille rodents in the kitchen. she commands them like she's in perilous battle and the entire world is at stake (also rodents are worse to direct than cats, they do not know the difference between left and right. there's a lot of "No! Not that cupboard, the other one! NO, the OTHER other one! Flank him, he's off balance!"). making a cup of tea is a convoluted, stressful process that takes 10 times longer than just boiling the damn water yourself

if you want more bg3 culinary headcanons, there's also: the Absolute Edition

[damneddamsy]

second sight | cregan stark x oc (part ii)

a/n: such a cute chapter seriously, kooky Claere tries very hard to fit in and nearly succeeds

Cregan Stark felt an unexpected warmth stir within him as he stood at the cold threshold of Claere’s chambers that morning. She hadn’t noticed him yet, past her table overcrowded with steaming choices for her finicky appetite, her attention fixed on her slumbering dragon outside the frosted window. It was the first time, in weeks, he had seen Claere appear so... alive. Always, she remained untouched by the glow of the fires or the company of others. Yet here, framed by the muted sunshine, she was no longer the spirit of assumptions, but something more tangible—more real.

Her ivory hair, neatly brushed and woven into elegant braids, glinted in the soft morning light. A rare flush graced her ashen cheeks, lending an unexpected warmth to her pallor, while her lips, usually discoloured, now hinted at a shocking vibrancy. Her thickset leather gown, tailored to fit, cinched snugly to her form, warding off the biting winter chill. One could question her sanity or wisdom—but never the timeless beauty that clung to her like a second skin, untouchable and undeniable.

"Leave us," Cregan announced, breaking the quiet spell that lingered in the room.

The subtle command had Claere's handmaidens hurrying to obey, scurrying as they retreated from the room. Only one remained—the worried young girl who had raised her concerns to him—hesitating for a breath as she passed him.

"My lady is yet to break her fast, my lord," she mentioned before slipping away, casting a fleeting glance at Claere as though she feared leaving her alone.

Cregan’s gaze wavered on the closed door before shifting back to his wife. Claere’s violet eyes met his unflinchingly, but there was something delicate beneath the surface, a thread of tension woven through the air between them.

He divested his weighted fur cloaks and sword, then turned his attention to the table. He surveyed the spread before him—an abundance of food, more than enough to feed a small army. Golden loaves of bread, platters of roasted meats, a tray brimming with two hot pies, and rich, steaming pots of chicken porridge adorned the surface. Yet, despite the lavish display, it all felt strangely hollow.

His brow furrowed as he took in the untouched offerings. “This is more than enough for a feast,” he said to her, casting a sidelong glance. “Yet you’ve chosen to starve yourself.”

She was gaunt enough, pale enough—he could not bear the thought of her fading further into herself. Claere did not spare him another look or a reply, tucking her knees under her chin and continuing to stare blankly at the grey skies beyond.

"Come, try this. The venison is one of my favourites, the best you’ll ever taste," he attempted, his voice quieter than he intended, as if speaking too loudly would shatter the fragile silence between them.

He skewered slices of the tender meat and placed them on her plate. "Especially rare this season. Smoked to perfection."

It was met with nothing. She didn’t move, didn’t even blink. It was like talking to a marble statue. Cregan’s tolerance waned, but his determination remained. He tried again.

"Perhaps some fruits from the capital?" His eager eyes flickered over her pale frame. She had grown up surrounded by the opulence of King’s Landing, maybe something from her past would awaken her hunger.

At last, a response—her gaze shifted, just barely, in his direction.

"Apples, cranberries. Oranges from Dorne," he murmured to himself, unaware.

That caught her. Her violet eyes brightened, if only for a second. Her head turned ever so slightly, just enough to show she had heard him. It was a faint glimmer of interest, the smallest shift in her otherwise impassive demeanour. Cregan seized the moment.

"Yes. Blood oranges, all the way from Sunspear," he continued, his voice gentle, as though coaxing her from some distant reverie. He reached for the bowl of oranges, their vibrant colour standing out amidst the endless grey.

"Sweet and ripe." He peeled one slowly, letting the tangy scent of citrus fill the room. "The taste of sunshine, I hear," he remarked, cutting into the orange and setting a few slices on her plate beside the untouched venison.

For a moment, the room held its breath.

He sat beside her, not prodding further, allowing the zest of the fruit to permeate through the chill in the air. It waited as a peace offering between the two of them. Although his hands itched to reach out, to grab her, shake her, force her to acknowledge the danger of her disinterest, he held back, knowing that force was not what she needed. Not now. He would start slow; small.

The moments stretched on, though his patient gaze never left her.

Then, slowly, almost unnoticeably, Claere reached forward. Her fingers touched one of the slices, and she brought it to her lips. The smallest trickle of juice touched the corner of her mouth, and something unspoken shifted between them. Another followed and another, until the orange slices disappeared.

Cregan said nothing, only watched, as though witnessing some small, hard-won victory. He reached for a second orange, peeling it with care, and setting the fresh slices in front of her.

"I don’t eat meat," Claere said suddenly, her voice clear as day, shattering the silence.

He blinked. For a moment, the absurdity of it all struck him. This was Claere Velaryon—the mysterious princess they all feared, who, in their minds, feasted on flesh like some beast from old Valyrian folklore. The one who terrified even her own attendants.

And here she was, delicately picking at oranges, refusing meat, no more grotesque than a rose bracing against the cold.

It hit him then—why she had not eaten a morsel at their wedding feast, why she never showed face at suppers, why she had been refusing to eat all this time. She wasn’t what they claimed, made of stone and shadows. She was simply, achingly, human.

Cregan stifled an amused grin, the irony too sharp to ignore. "Duly noted," he murmured, glancing at the untouched venison beside her. "I’ll take that."

He took her plate and switched his empty one with it. He managed to fill it with natural foods on the table—bread, butter, and fruits. Certainly, Northerners depended on their beef and mutton rather than daily grains. Anything hot and juicy to bear the brunt of the cold.

Whilst silently biting into a slice of buttered bread, Claere continued to scrutinize her drowsing dragon through the windowpane. Luna could’ve been mistaken for a snowy cliff by the treeline, her silver scales tough enough to brook the battering breezes outside. It should have been awake by now, trilling for Claere to come join her. Yet, peculiarly, the she-dragon continued to doze through the day.

Cregan followed her gaze, a frown tugging at his features. "Did you fly too far last night?" His concern edged through his voice. "It's been asleep too long."

Just then, Luna unfurled her leathern wings, flapping away the snow before digging her snout back into the earth. Steam sizzled off her throat and belly, a spot of the everlasting fire she harboured.

Claere took her time to respond, her voice almost proud. "She is overfed."

He scoffed under his breath. "That beast could swallow half the North, and still—"

"I took her out to hunt, my lord," she interjected, her tone soft but deliberate. "Just this morning."

His hand froze mid-motion, tightening ever so slightly around the knife as her words settled in.

"You took her to hunt," he repeated, glancing at her once he’d wrestled his wrath back under control.

She nodded, matter-of-fact, as though she were recounting an uneventful ride instead of defying his explicit orders. To Cregan, it was a quiet betrayal.

"You flew alone? Down to Castle Black?" His voice dipped into treacherous waters, barely containing his growing irritation.

"We only rode a little past Last Hearth, never crossed the Wall," she responded patiently, her tone so measured it made his irritation feel misplaced. "Luna caught some wild boars there. I reckon she’ll be sated for a few days."

Her calm, composed words felt like a blade twisting in his side. The frustration simmered beneath the surface, no longer containable. He leaned back, tossing the half-sliced apple onto the table with a heavy thud, the act punctuating the helplessness he felt. There was no forcing her, no bending her will—just standing by, powerless, as she made decisions he could neither influence nor control.

"Have I defied you, my lord?" she asked abruptly, her violet eyes watching him closely, an unexpected spark of interest flickering within them.

Claere held his gaze, unblinking, unperturbed by the smoldering in his eyes. There was no trace of fear, no hesitation—just that infuriating calm that always seemed to shield her from his concerns, as though the dangers of the world brushed past her without consequence.

He inhaled sharply, shaking his head as if to dispel the misplaced rage bubbling up. She hadn’t crossed the Wall; she hadn’t endangered herself, not in the way he feared. She had simply done as she had always done—navigating the wilds with a certainty that unnerved him.

He sighed despite his frustration. "No, you have not."

He reached for a cluster of cranberries, carefully plucking them from the vine and placing them onto her plate, trying to make the gesture feel routine, almost tender.

"You are the Lady of Winterfell," he continued. "You have as much right to defiance as I do."

She studied the crooked smile tugging at his lips, her brows drawn in thought, as though she couldn’t quite decipher the mystery before her.

"Do I not repel you?" she asked quietly, her voice betraying the faintest trace of genuine curiosity.

Cregan furrowed his brow, caught off guard by her question. "Whatever made you think that?"

Her fingers touched her chest as if pointing out the obvious. "You think me mad. The way the others do."

Realization softened his expression. "If that were true, I would not be here." He paused, his gaze more intent now. "Just as the moon is to the night, you are, to me. Distant, yet always prevalent. I have come to be curious."

A slight frown creased her forehead. "Curious?"

"About everything," he said, the softness of his smile deepening. "I want to know everything."

The silence between them grew thick, loaded with things unsaid. She wasn’t accustomed to being seen this way—not with such intent. For so long, she'd been surrounded by whispers and wary glances, all feeding into the myth of her coldness, her distance. But now, here was Cregan Stark, looking at her not with suspicion, but with inquisitiveness. That simple admission seemed to unnerve her.

"You want to know everything?" she echoed, disbelief threading through her voice.

He leaned in slightly, the firelight casting flickering shadows on his face. "Yes."

Her gaze dropped to the plate of fruit he had arranged with such care. Her fingers toyed with the edge of a piece of bread as if contemplating whether to trust him with whatever weighed on her mind.

"There is not much to know," she murmured. "Everything is plain in sight."

His smile returned, warmer this time. "Then you're not as impervious as you appear."

Her lips parted as if she were about to say something, but hesitation froze the words in her throat. For a brief moment, it seemed she was on the cusp of revealing something that had been buried for far too long. But just as quickly, the moment passed. She closed her mouth and turned her gaze away, her hands folding neatly in her lap, retreating back into herself.

Cregan watched the subtle shift, the way her posture tightened ever so slightly, the way her eyes retreated into that familiar, distant place. He had nudged the door open, but only a crack. It wasn’t enough to draw her fully into the light, but it was something. A start.

"You don’t have to tell me everything right away," he said gently, his voice shaking with laughter. "It will take time. And I will be here until then."

She looked at him then, a faint expression—almost like fondness—ghosting across her features. There was a tenderness in her eyes, nonetheless guarded, yet undeniably present. She gave a small nod, her voice quiet and uncertain.

"Perhaps one day, my lord," she promised.

It wasn’t much, but it was enough.

Her gaze drifted back toward the window, back to Luna, her sleeping dragon. She seemed lost again, caught in her daydreams, her thoughts wandering far beyond the walls of Winterfell. Cregan leaned back in his chair, watching her in silence, his gaze tracing the curve of her face and her breath's steady rise and fall. Luna and Claere, both wrapped in an ancient mystery he was only beginning to understand.

The barriers between them had not yet fallen, but a door had been opened, however slightly. For now, that was enough.

For the first time since their marriage, Cregan allowed himself to believe—perhaps, just perhaps—there could be something more than the looming noose of duty between them. Something honest. Something soft.

X

As winter’s dawn closed in, Cregan’s quiet affections for his wife burgeoned like an arrow loosed from a bow, swift and certain. As she was known to the people of Winterfell, Lady Stark remained the same distant figure veiled in cold beauty, a foreign wife to their lord, a creature of dragon lore. She made no effort to blend into their world, and they met her aloofness with cautious smiles and bowed heads, unsure whether to approach or retreat. Claere drifted through the castle like a morning mist, silent, elusive, always keeping to the shadows, never quite a part of Winterfell’s daily rhythm.

But unlike the rest, Cregan began to take notice. Rather, it was incredible to watch unfold.

Beneath the layers of distance and impassion, there was another side to her, subtle and easy to overlook if one wasn’t paying attention. Claere was still unfamiliar, avoiding scrutiny and taken by the darkness, yet she had begun to tend to her littler assignments as a lady of the keep. It wasn’t grand or overt—there were no loud declarations or public displays of command—but she moved with purpose.

She listened more than she spoke, and when she did, her words were often strange, riddles of foresight that left the common folk wary. To the unsure blacksmith, who sought her blessing for a new forge, she meekly said to him—"Strike iron before the bell tolls twice. On the third, the flames will consume more than metal."

Whispers continued to follow her wherever she went: the dragon witch, the phantom of King’s Landing. Still, Claere remained unfazed. She attended her duties with modest accuracy, stitching herself into the rhythm of Northern life, even if it repudiated her.

Gradually, some saw her walking the cold halls, her footfalls deliberate, attending to the tasks that had once been left to the servants. Lord Stark had heard whispers of her wanderings of late—through the kitchens in the early hours, startling the cooks who were not accustomed to their lady appearing so near the hearth. She frequented the stables, her pale eyes watchful of the stablehands, though she never interfered. Most strangely, she had taken to visiting the kennels where the pups—the direwolf cubs born just before the first snowfall—played.

It was an odd sight to behold: Lady Claere, who rarely engaged with the people of the keep, standing among the yapping pups. She never knelt to pet them, never extended a hand to ruffle their fur. Instead, she would watch, as if the simple act of being near them was enough to quiet her mind. The small, wriggling wolves nipped at her skirts, tugging with playful insistence, but she remained still, observing them. Understanding them.

"They are quite fond of you, my lady," the kennel master remarked one day, eyeing the scene with amusement.

Claere glanced down at the pups nipping at her fur-lined cloak, her expression unreadable. "Then why do they attack me so?" she asked, her voice lilting with dry bemusement.

The kennel master chuckled, tossing scraps of meat at her feet. The pups immediately abandoned her skirts, their attention fully captured by the morsels. They tumbled over one another, growling and yipping as they fought for the food.

"I hope that answers your question, my lady," he said, his grin widening.

She looked at the scramble of bodies and fur, her lips pressed in a thin line, as though she was still unsure.

And on the rarest of occasions, Cregan would find her by the ancient weirwood tree in the godswood, her hands clasped to her chest, staring into the carved face of the old gods. The white bark seemed to cast her in a radiance, a lone figure amidst the snow-covered branches. Her eyes, those pale violet eyes, seemed lost in thought, as though she communed with the far beyond, elsewhere.

Likewise, her deeds—those small, almost invisible deeds—spoke volumes. Cregan had once found a handkerchief waiting for him in his study after a particularly gruelling day. The little fabric was sloppily stitched, the pale blue thread forming what he could only assume was meant to be a dragon—Claere's touch, unmistakable. Despite the uneven embroidery, he carried it with him always, tucked close to his chest beneath his leather coat of plates. It was the smallest of gestures, but to him, it was the great deal of effort she had put in for him.

But formality, he decided, did nothing for them.

One night, he summoned all the courage he had left, sweeping into her chambers with a boldness that surprised even him. He found her sitting near the hearth, her slender fingers too close to the flames, seeking heat from the piercing frost that had begun to seep into Winterfell's very bones.

"I would like to," Cregan began, his voice betraying a touch of nervousness beneath its usual strength, "sleep here tonight."

She turned to him, startled, her violet eyes dashing briefly to the bed. She blinked, slowly understanding the meaning behind his words.

Her lips parted, and she spoke with faint surprise. "You desire an heir."

Cregan's heart lurched in his chest, his eyes widening in shock. "No. No, princess," he half-laughed, quickly stepping forward, his voice dropping to a gentler tone. "You mistake me. I want no such thing from you."

She remained quiet, her gaze searching his face for meaning. "You do not?"

"I do, of course. In time, yes. Heirs." He scratched his jaw nervously. "I implied that I merely..." He hesitated, struggling to find the right words. His hand moved toward her, hovering in the space between them before finally resting gently upon her cold hand.

"I simply want to be close to you. No titles or expectations. You and I."

Claere stared at his hand on hers, the firelight dancing across her face, her expression caught somewhere between bewilderment and awareness. She had never imagined such a request from him. To her, as preached by her mother, marriage had always been about duty, obligation, and the future of his line.

"You mean to sleep here," she repeated, her voice softer now, doubtful.

"Aye, I do," Cregan replied, his hand still resting over hers, warm against the cold of the room. "I would like to be with you, as we are. If that would please you."

Her eyes flickered with something he couldn't quite place—an emotion she rarely showed. Vulnerability, perhaps. She nodded slowly, her gaze dropping to the flames.

"Very well," she whispered.

Then on, he cherished those quiet nights spent by her side, even while she remained true to her unstinting oddities. For all that surrounded her, she had, in her own way, become his constant.

The gentle strumming of her harp in the dead of the night became Cregan's personal lullabies, even if was hair-raising to the rest of them. He found her wandering through the corridors in the small hours, her movements slow, as though she drifted through her dreams. It should've unsettled him—the sight of his wife, half-asleep and roaming as if the world outside fell to nothing at her feet. Whenever the night sky beckoned her, she would climb the ramparts, sprawling herself across the ancient stone, her hands and eyes tracing the constellations. Sometimes, in the earliest hours of dawn, he would wake to find her already gone, Luna’s shadow a fleeting blur in the sky as she took flight.

"The court grows restless, my lord," the maester had said cautiously one time, his voice a quiet murmur as they stood in the Great Hall. "They believe Lady Claere's patterns... worry the people. A lady shouldn’t wander alone, especially not at such hours."

Cregan's rubbed at his brow, frustrated. "What would you have me do? Chain her to her chambers? Berate her like a child?"

"They mean no harm, my lord," he continued, trying to tread carefully. "You appease her too much. Her place is—"

"Her place," Cregan interrupted, his tone final, "is wherever she chooses to be."

He couldn’t bring himself to curb the parts of her that made her who she was. She wrought no trouble to anyone. Besides, stopping her could bring about dire consequences he knew little about.

One evening, after hearing her footsteps echo along the parapet walls, he quietly followed. Of course, for a dragonrider, such a height would not bother her, but his heart raced faster at the reflection of slippery death. Claere was already there, gazing up at the stars with a look of quiet reverence. He carefully lay beside her, trying to see the sky as she did, wondering what enigmas it held for her.

"Do you see them?" Claere asked, not turning to face him.

Cregan followed her gaze, his breath clouding in the crisp cold air. "Their radiance comes to nought with your presence," he said in all honesty.

Her eyes still fixed on the heavens, simply nodded, offering no smile, no warmth—just that silent acknowledgement that always seemed to deflate him.

"Untouched," she told him, an awed confession, "since I first laid eyes on them. Even in King's Landing and Dragonstone. Here. Yet they tell me a distinct story every night. Of old, of the things yet to come."

Cregan found himself leaning closer on his elbow, her calm conviction tugging at his control. It was easier to touch her nowadays, never past a soft squeeze of her palm or shoulder, but nevertheless, he basked in her liberties to him.

He traced her hairline by her temple, tucking a curl behind her ear. He was afraid she was going to melt right through his fingertips, vanish into steam.

"What do they say to you tonight?" he asked.

"Iā gēlenka qogron," she replied, her Valyrian tongue as smooth as the silks she wore, getting across his skin like a breathy caress.

He shook his head. "I can't understand your language."

"A silver lining."

For the first time in a while, she looked at him, a faint smile playing at her eyes, like two streaks of comets in the night. An elfish smile spread on his lips, his soul wrecked and decimated at the mere sight of it. A softness that she allowed just for him.

The aforesaid silver lining came on two fronts, both owed to his good wife, though neither understood immediately.

The first glimmer of change came as Claere sat by his feet one evening, quietly weaving another garland of winter roses upon a vine. He wondered what significance it was to her, why she had taken a liking to such an absurd, sweet thing. It was rare in these parts, yet she always had a throng of them every fortnight.

Instinctually, he reached out to gently touch the back of her head, brushing his fingers down the silvery hair that was left loose from her plaits. That gesture was enough to impart the warmth from the chill around them. Then, without turning to him, she spoke softly; suddenly.

“You could grow things here. Even in the cold.”

Cregan frowned, tilting his head slightly. “What do you mean?”

She did not answer right away, her fingers hesitating on loops of the vines, thinking. "Like these roses. They rise out of the ice."

He flickered his gaze to the withered flowers in her pale hands.

“The hot spring beneath the castle,” she sounded off. “It could heat the glass. Protect the plants.”

“Glass?” he asked, perplexed, trying to piece together her words.

She saw her nod, turning her head just enough to catch the slope of her nose and bow of her murmuring lips. Such a distracting sight.

“A house of glass. With the heat from below and light from above, you could grow food. Even in the blackest winters.”

Cregan sat back, stroking his lip, unsure if she was speaking in riddles again or if there was some truth hidden in her quiet musings. A glass house? In Winterfell? He mulled over her words long after the conversation ended, unseeingly staring at her sleep, wondering if she saw something he didn’t, or if it was simply another of her cryptic thoughts, floating like a wisp of fog, impossible to catch.

Days passed before the idea began to take shape in his mind, the pieces coming together as he considered the hot springs that ran beneath the castle, the ancient warmth that had always been a part of Winterfell. The more he thought about it, the more her words made sense—elusive at first, yes, but not impossible.

“She has clever foresight beyond her years, my lord,” one of the builders remarked when Cregan indistinctly shared the concept, the man’s eyes widening at the simplicity of it. The Glass Gardens, so it was named.

“To grow fresh produce in hard frost… it could change everything. But it will take great labour, and the men—”

"Insignificant," he interrupted, anticipating the instant objections. "Use every muscle we have, builders and stewards alike. Stop at nothing. Winter is coming."

X

A heavy silence draped the great hall as the Lord and Lady of Winterfell sat together at the head of the long table, their presence commanding every eye in the space. The low light of the hearth flashed, candles careened, casting long shadows against the weathered stone walls, the flickers dancing across Cregan’s gruff yet relaxed features and Claere’s hypnotic beauty.

The hall was teeming with people, the sounds of clinking plates and jovial laughs—lords of vassal houses, bannermen, and their ladies—but not a soul dared to question their sights. They watched, breath held, as the husband and wife dined in quiet harmony after weeks of isolation. Yet, the silence wasn’t strained. There was something subtle between them, implicit but unmistakable, a warmth that didn’t need words to be discerned.

Claere, shrouded in a grey fur-lined cloak, a gift from Cregan, picked at the peas on her plate. To those watching, she remained in her customary quietude, never quite fitting into their climate. But Cregan saw something else. He could sense the effort in her posture: the way she held herself more present tonight, despite her usual evasive manner. She wasn’t quite comfortable, but she was trying. And he was prepared to help.

Cregan’s watchful grey eyes, sharp as winter but softening with each glance, rushed often to his wife. Though she barely touched her food, he noticed her little, doubtful movements—the way her fingers skimmed the rim of her goblet, the way her eyes lounged on the stagnating hearth, her mind a million miles away.

He tore a piece of bread and placed it on her plate, a routine gesture between them now. He gently squeezed her hand over the table, bringing her back to reality.

"You must eat something," he murmured, meant for her ears alone. There was no force in his words, only a gentle concern from his growing care.

Claere’s violet eyes flickered toward him, surprised at first, but she didn’t resist. She took a small nibble of the bread and sipped the spiced broth, hesitant under the weight of so many eyes upon her. Yet, when she met Cregan’s gaze, just for a heartbeat, something shifted. An unassuming smile tugged at his lips, softening the edges of his usually stern features.

The tension in the hall, once thick with curiosity and judgment, began to ease. The subtle exchanges between the lord and his lady had not gone unnoticed by their audience. How his smile grew when she looked at him, a rare sight for those who knew him.

It wasn’t until a shift in the crowd drew the noble couple's attention—an approaching woman with two small children clutching at her skirts—that the atmosphere around them began to change.

In their small hands, they carried something bright—gleaming in the candlelight like polished stones. As they came closer, Cregan's brow furrowed in confusion. The sight of what they carried made him lean forward, his voice low with disbelief. He couldn’t believe his eyes.

“Bless me. Are those...?” he drawled out in wonder.

The woman’s hands shook slightly as she stepped forward, her eyes darting nervously between Cregan and Claere.

“Lord Stark,” she stammered, her voice trembling. She strained a pleading gaze at Claere. “This is too generous of a gift, my lady. We cannot accept this."

In her hands, and those of her children, were dragon eggs from Luna's most recent clutch—small, vibrant, coloured crimson and green. The sight of them made the hall grow quieter as if the very air had thinned with the enormity of the gesture. The children, however, clutched the eggs to their chests, unwilling to part with them. Their small hands curled protectively around the gleaming shells, eyes wide with the wonder of it.

Claere’s gaze flicked to the children, and then to the mother. "They earned them."

"They are unaware of what these symbolise to your bloodline," the mother refused. "Dragon eggs don't belong in the hands of people like us."

“Are you to refuse gratuity from your lady?” she said, with the quiet authority that left no room for argument. Claere regarded the children with a measured gaze, her expression still cool.

"They are gifts for your family. I owe the little ones a keepsake for their bravery today."

"Bravery?" Cregan questioned.

"We helped her locate Luna's clutch, m'lord," the young girl confessed in a mumble.

"And Lady Stark let us keep some of them," the young boy finished. "We found five so far."

"Two out of five is scarcely anything," Claere subdued the stressed mother. "I have plenty to spare."

The children, despite their mother’s soft pleas, clung tighter to the eggs, their fingers wrapped around them as though the treasures belonged to them alone. The mother’s face flushed with embarrassment, her hands trembling as she tried to gently pry the eggs from her children’s grasp.

“But, my lady, this is—”

Claere’s attention had already drifted to her plate. Her expression tightened for a brief moment, something unspeakable crossing her features—a subtle unease she hid from the hall, but not from Cregan. Ever observant, caught the unease settling into her posture, the slight tightening of her fingers around her goblet. He saw the far-off look in her eyes, and his heart sank.

Claere, at that moment, glanced down at the eggs in their small hands, and her gaze seemed to shift—becoming distant, as though she were looking far beyond the walls of Winterfell. Her eyes briefly lingered on the older boy, trained right through him, a flicker of foreboding.

Sensing this, Cregan squeezed Claere's thigh to summon her attention. When he did, he gave her the most infinitesimal shake of his head, searching her eyes. For a quiet moment, she remained frozen in place, still cold-eyed, as if deliberating some far-off future.

But then, with the smallest exhale, she relented. The tension in her shoulders melted, and her gaze gentled. Turning back to the woman, Claere’s voice was soothing now, in a way that almost made her seem more benevolent.

“Your son will grow strong,” she said, softly touching the boy's head. “He will see many winters, and live long." Then she nodded at the girl. "So will she. Great things await in their morrows."

The woman’s eyes filled with gratitude, her children clutching their eggs close as they looked up at her in awe. She bowed deeply, her voice cracking with emotion.

“Thank you, milady, truly," she said profusely. "Thank you.”

As the woman and her children backed away into the crowd, their wide-eyed wonder a stark contrast to the stunned silence that had settled over the hall, Cregan relaxed into his chair, his gaze still fixed on Claere.

He was the perfect blend of amusement and concern. “You mislike lying," he claimed.

Claere, still staring after the departing family, shook her head, her expression contemplative. “No,” she said, her tone almost introspective. “I do not care for it. The truth is simpler.”

Cregan arched a brow, the corner of his mouth lifting in a teasing smile as he sipped his ale. “You avoided the truth."

"Akin to deceit."

He set down his mug with a sigh. "Fair enough. Whatever did you see?"

Her eyes tightened, toying at her sleeves as if thinking over revealing this to him. "The boy will live long... but he will be sentenced to takeing the black for assault. His path is laid."

Cregan absorbed her words, and the dinner noises got louder. He rubbed a hand down his mouth, nodding to himself.

"That boy's future is his to shape," he relieved, his eyes locking on hers. "No sense in weighing down tomorrow with troubles that haven’t come. Perhaps knowing less will allow him to make other choices."

She quirked a side of her lips to an imperceptible smile, a shared understanding evolving between them. "Perhaps."

He gently caressed the back of her head. "Maybe don’t make this a habit. I don’t fancy sharing my ale with a doom-monger every night."

Her laugh surprised him. It was soft, barely more than a breath, like a secret that had slipped free—genuine, and entirely unexpected. Cregan blinked, caught off guard. He hadn’t realized how much he wanted to hear it.

"You laughed," he noticed breathily.

Claere paused, her brows drawing together as though she hadn’t noticed it herself. “Did I?”

He nodded, still watching her, his eyes softening. “Aye, you did. A sound like that could warm even these old stones."

She looked down at her lap as if trying to recall the moment herself. Her fingers resumed their nervous picking at her sleeves, but there was a faint flush on her pale cheeks, a subtle shift in her usual guarded demeanour.

“I suppose I did,” she murmured, almost to herself.

Cregan leaned closer, nudging her arm, gentle but teasing. “Well, don’t stop now. I think I'm rather fond of it.”

Claere’s thin lips graced a vague curve, so sweet and humble, though she quickly turned her gaze away from him, her fingers smoothing the fabric of her dress.

Gently, unable to stop himself, he reached out, cupping the side of her pale cheek. This time, she did not flinch or shy away. Instead, she closed her eyes, allowing herself to lean into his touch, indulging in the warmth of his hand, even if just for a fleeting moment.

For Cregan, it was another crushing triumph. For Claere, it was the first time she permitted herself to feel something other than the cold isolation that had surrounded her since arriving at Winterfell. And for those watching, it was a glimpse of an undue union slowly becoming more than mere duty.

There it was: Cregan's second silver lining, with far less fanfare and more consequential than the first. A quiet tempest of affection began taking root in the frozen North, thawing what had once seemed unreachable—the first warmth of spring after a long winter.

X

[k2ntoss]

okay so yet again i was scrolling through insta reels and i saw this and immediately thought, 'oh jason would love one of this with his helmet' so i thought i'd share (hopefully the video doesn't just disappear into the ether or this wont make much sense but yeah)

https://www.instagram.com/reel/C8XdIwStYFg/?igsh=MWdzZXVpZHV3dm8zbw==

((in case it does for some reason disappear, it was a reel of a girl making a diy spiderman mask shirt with a pattern and then the red colouring bit of the mask was filled in with kisses using paint))

but yeah, i think making a red hood one for jason would be so fun and i just know the man would be so so smitten when it's given to him

anyways, love you, glad your posting again

- the ever present 🦊

"the ever present" OMG I ADORE YOU!!!!!! hi baby, been missing you with your brain tickling requests (i have one on hold but just you wait)

i've been looking to do one of those for me with red hood's logo bc i'm as single as one can be and i know i won't be getting someone to do this for me but okayyyyyy i can do it on my own. here comes something short but done with a lot of love

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ𔓕 ۪  ۫ ୭

jason had been waiting outside the room for hours maybe, he was just sitting on the couch as he looked at the door like a sad puppy because he had arrived this morning to your apartment looking foward to spend time with you. some cuddling, watching a movie together or reading, jason just wanted some quality time with his beloved.

he knew you had been busy during the week with a huge amount of projects you wanted to do but he wasn't expecting you to get so fixated over one to lock yourself into your room and not even peek to see him and he didn't knew why, what jason also didn't knew was the fact that you were already getting dizzy by the smell of paint inside your closed room as you placed the shirt over your desk again, grabbing a pencil to fix the outline of the desing for the hundreth time in the day.

"fuck, fuck, fuck..." you muttered as low as you could to keep jason from darting into the room and ruin the surprise and it took you a good couple of hours to finally have it done, the paint almost completely dry now and the image of it was neat, making you smile and giggle happily.

and it's just then when you decide it's time to open the door, peeking your head through the small space to find jason almost melted on the couch, his head resting against the wall as he kept his eyes closed but it wasn't even a second by when he snapped his eyes open to look at you with a small frown.

"baby? why are you-?" she stopped mid sentence, taking in the sight of your paint smeared lips and chin, the red bright color now cracked on your skin as you smiled back at him as if you just made the biggest discovery in your life.

"hush! c'mere, jaybirdie" you say, leaving the door to your room wide open just to reveal the fact that your whole frame was a mess and that the paint was not only on your face but it had dripped to your shirt and also to your bare thighs to the skin that wasn't covered by the sleeping shorts you were wearing.

jason stands up from his seat, stretching completely from his quick nap and walks into the now messy room. the small paint pots across the floor and desk in different shades of red, paint brushes here and there and then the sight of you standing in front of the middle of your desk, covering something jason couldn't quite see well enough to know what it was.

"i saw something and i had to do this... it's probably the cheesiest thing i've ever done so feel free to laugh at me" and those words make jason tilt his head because what on earth could be so cheesy and made with paint that needed this much time leaving him out of your room? because yes, jason wanted to cuddle and don't blame him.

"princess-" he starts but goes silent the second you pull from the desk a black shirt with a print of his helmet on it, all made in different shades of red kiss marks that emulated the shade of light and everything. his lips remain parted as he walks slowly towards you, his fingers gently tracing the outline of the print on the shirt before he looks at your face, the paint in your skin the evidence of the time you spent painting your lips and pressing kisses to the shirt to make something so sweet for him.

"is it too much? you know, you can just put it into your closet if you don't like-" but your words are cut by a tender kiss, jason cups your face in such a delicate embrace as he lets all his feelings pour into that simple kiss.

"i love it. i love you" he says, his voice a soft whisper even in that deepish tone of his and it makes your heart flutter because jason looks completely happy with the shirt as he holds it into his hands, still admiring the way you decided to replicate a part of him "it's just perfect..."

"can i wear it already?"

the question itself is the sweetest reaction he could give you, the eagerness to wear something you made for him making you giggle excitedly as you shook your head with a small pout.

"not yet, red... i should iron it and give it a quick wash so the paint stays on the fabric" and he pouts slightly because god knows how much he wishes to have your kisses closer to his heart.

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Male Alive with white rabbit reader?

Yandere Male Alice x White Rabbit Reader

You were the first to meet Alice. His guide back into the wonderful world of Wonderland. It kind of was your job to keep tabs on him; properly wiggling your ears and puffy tail in his sights as he followed you all throughout the kingdom. But once he routinely returned you found this position fruitless. No longer did you need to trick him to relearn the sights and know-how's of Wonderland. He knew them all. And any lack of knowledge or activity was easily filled by the Queen of Hearts or the dashing Mad Hatter or even the illustrious Cheshire cat. It hurt a little but you would be fine in no time, after all, time was constantly moving and you had no time to grieve for the growing distance of a childhood friend crush. It was time to move on. 

“Special delivery, your highness!’ 

“(Y/n)!”

“Sorry, White.”

You lifted yourself from a bow as the White king tightly wrapped his arms around you. You let yourself hug back trying to be as wholesome as you could while pressing your face against his clothed muscles. 

“I’m quite glad you and your sister are making amends! It really does wonders for her mood.”

You cheered snidely as you watched the king grimace at the opened chest. He closed the lid, gagging as he waved for another disgusted servant to come and carry it away. 

“Didn’t you relay that actual hearts aren’t…good gifts to give?”

“You know the Queen of Hearts loves her labels! It’d be a crime not to give you one!”

“Right.”

You giggled as the White King shuddered again before guiding you to join him over a pot of tea. Seated across from one another you two fell into old patterns chatting away over nothings of all sorts. It wasn’t until he began to recount something Alice had done that he brought notice to the sour twitch of your nose.

“What was that?”

“What's what?”

“Your button nose is twitching again and not in the good way. What’s wrong?”

“But nothing’s wrong, it's just the way my nose is!” 

“(Y/n),” he gave a stern look that had your ears drooping; you couldn’t help but sigh.

“I’d just rather not talk about him, that's all.”

A silence fell over you two and you avoided the gray gaze of the king as you took a long sip of your tea. You let yourself focus on the wild flavor, a far cry from the typical basic flavor White would have used. You let yourself sniff at the tea’s fumes, letting your nose flex as you process the smells. 

Cinnamon. Tiger’s tears. A hare’s insanity.

“Mad Hatter’s tea? In the White Palace?”

“I had those two mix something up from the brew we had during Red’s tournament. How long has it been since you’ve seen them last?”

“Uh, it's been…a while.”

White gave a worried chuckle before giving a straight face. 

“I’ve seen that look before. Nobody’s forgetting you, (Y/n). Everyone’s just excited he’s back…and I think everyone’s just enjoying his typical…outside perspective.”

“Yeah we love you for all your speedy paranoia!” Smiling wistfully beside the king was none other than–

“Cheshire?! Could you please stop doing that!” 

“Sorry King Le Blanc! Just figured I’d invite Bunny since Hatter was feeling…experimental again.”

You deadpanned at the floating smile. 

“You just want me to record how quickly someone is going to get injured or intoxicated.”

The smile giggled before twirling around to reveal the face that came with it. Cheshire's favorite part of Hatter’s experimental spells was the truly wonderlandian experience of utter chaos. Nonetheless you finished your tea quickly before leaving the white castle with White escorting you out. 

“Until we meet again, (Y/n).”

“Farewell your highness.”

You quickly hopped down the steps of the White palace as you followed the constant vanishing body parts of Cheshire as you surged deeper into the forest. With no words shared between you continued on, enjoying the noiseness of the Wonderlandian wildlife. 

“Hey, (Y/n)?”

“Yes?”

“A-are you mad at him?”

The serious tone from someone as playful as Cheshire had you turning to look concerned at the fully materialized cat who continued to stare pointedly back at you. They had stopped walking which made you slow down to turn back to him.

“Do you mean White? Or..Alice?”

You didn’t need to hear an answer, it was glaringly obvious.

“Are you mad at him?”

“I’m not mad…does everyone think I am?”

Your surprised response didn’t seem to bring him ease. 

“...Then what do you feel about him?”

This line of questioning made your ears stand up and not in a good way. Your hairs stood up and your legs geared to run. Only affirming your worst fears Cheshire’s slitted eyes were dilated and his tail lashing around behind him. 

You were being watched. No, hunted. And even as predator and prey species respectively you both were naturally on edge. You wanted to believe it was Wonderlandian wildlife but no creature other than the Queen of Heart’s jabberwocky could incite such an atmosphere. 

“I’d…rather not say…not while we have a tea tasting to attend.”

You kept your hand steady as you pointed at your pocket watch, starting to walk in the direction of the tea party’s site. You kept your walk as casual as you could despite the tensing of your muscles. You beckoned Cheshire, subtly snapping him from his fearful stupor to join you in your attempt in normalcy. You accepted the quivering fingers that reached for your own, keeping him grounded as the feeling of a hunter’s gaze refused to let up. 

It was a long walk. Finally coming to a close as you found the opening in the forest leading to the grounds of the tea party always hosted several meters from Hatter’s home and shop. The feeling of being stalked let up as you both followed the increasing noises of the parties attendendants. You wanted to hold out until you were surely in the clear but Cheshire had other plans. Feeling his swelling sense of relief you could only be pulled along as the cat vanished once more pulling you forward with his invisible grip on your hand. 

“Sorry for our early arrival! This bunny has a habit of scampering away!” 

“No worries, you're hardly tardy at all! Bun Bun we were just talking about how delicious this blend of fruits would be with a peacock plumed top hat!” 

You sat beside Cheshire who still was holding your hand tight in his as you sat further away from the couple. You chuckled as your cousin erratically interjected with his own commentary.

“Nein! PLUCKED NOT PLUMED! A fedora is the better option!” 

The couple went on and on easily forgetting that you and Cheshire were in attendance. The two of you giggled as you each poured one another a cup of tea as you watched their theatrics. The two were entertaining in and of themselves which made any event bearable…especially after what you two had experienced.

“So? What was that about?”

You whispered to the cat refusing to look away from the Hare and Hatter as their discussion escalated. The cat took a sip of his tea, holding the pot away as Hatter reached for something to throw. 

“Can’t tell but its becoming more of an issue.”

Dodging a chair leg you hid your astonished expression behind your cup as you sipped at the interesting blend. 

“A person? Able to do that? But why? We weren’t alone, not to mention we aren’t easy targets anyway. Our presence should have been enough to scare anything with pressure sensing off.”

Cheshire paused. As if debating on answering before sending a pained exhale into his cup. 

“That is if that person could pressure sense at all…”

Cheshire looked at the look of horrified realization. Grimacing once more as he watched your lips form the question everyone’s been asking.

“You have to give him something. Confess to him or accept when he asks you.”

“....”

“You have to sate him. Date him. Please. He’s become ravenous.”

“But I didn’t even know he–”

“I know…I know…but he’s getting violent.”

“Violent?”

“Mock Turtle was the first. Then Dormouse. He’s frustrated. Stop him please.”

You wanted to press further. Question his shaking indigo irises and downturned lips. But before you could ask any further your ears perked up as Hatter called to the newest arrival. 

“Alice! Pleased you could make it! Care for a plume of tea!”

“Why that would be lovely, Hatter.” 

Alice smoothly inserted himself into the scene casually conversing with Hare who turned his throwing fits towards him. You turned to address the cat only to find he’d vanished. Feeling a squeeze at your grip and the trailing fingertips as he officially vacated the tea party. You wanted to question further only for the answer to plop beside you with a blinding smile.

“Hi there (Y/n)! It's been a while since we’ve seen each other.”

“Y-yeah it's been four weeks. Crazy, huh?”

You gulped the frog in your throat as you held up your pocket watch. Just as quickly, you pocketed it once more as Hatter called for both of your attentions. You tried to keep your eyes trained on Hatter’s elaborate display. Trying to ignore the hard staring that was being done by the owner of those baby blue eyes.

“--And this will be the final addition to our glorious concoction!”

“Mark it Bunny!” 

You deadpanned as you obeyed your cousin pulling your pocket watch out and starting the timer. With the clock ticking Mad Hatter went off; pouring various tubes and objects into a boiling pot. You let yourself be entranced by the different colorful puffs of smoke that spilled from their cauldron. As the smoke persisted you felt a tightness in your throat, nose twitching in familiarity once again.

“The *cough* mandrake root?! Hatter you mad–”

Before you could yell anything more at Hatter the warm hands of Alice reeled your attention. Clutching at you shoulders he pulled you to his body; close enough to speak into your ear.

“Come on (Y/n). Lets get out of here before both of us pass out.”

Without waiting for a response he practically carried you with him ducking into the forest. Eventually running away from the overreaching cloud of smoke leaving you both to gain your bearings deep in the Wonderlandian thicket. Watching Alice heave with his hands on his knees, you were reminded of Cheshire’s plea. You hoped maybe now was a good time to address it. 

“S-so Alice I heard you–whoa!”

He stood up eyes, practically glowing with an unsetting glaze as he stepped uncomfortably close to you. Now that you noticed a blush settled heavily on his face along with the recognizable hearts growing in his pupils.

“Oh no, an aphrodesia plant?! Alice are you okay?”

The blonde giggled playfully, “I’m just fine. In fact I have something real important to ask you~!”

“Uhm okay, go ahead.” You had a sneaking suspicion as to what this would be.

“Mmmh!” He moaned as he hugged himself, as he came even closer to you. 

“Be mine. Be all mine (Y/n)!” 

He grabbed at your red vest pulling you into him as he ran his hand in your hair and over your ears. Letting his eyes roll back as he inhaled your scent; sending a pleasurable shiver up his spine. 

“L-like uhm dating?”

He giggled some more as he hugged you tighter rubbing his nose all over your hair and face. He shook his head as if you had said the funniest thing ever only moving you along with him as he began to sway. 

“No~No~Be mine. All mine. Okay? You promise right? Otherwise I can’t help but demolish all those fools that keep you away from me!” 

“O-okay!” 

You hastily agreed lightly returning his hug as he registered your answer. Squealing he spun you around once more before lifting you into his arms as he strode deeper into the forest. 

You didn’t know where he was going or what it even meant to be his, but you figured this was for the best. For once it served you right not to run.

[fuckingrecipes]

Recipes often say medium or high for stove temps, but I know different stoves have different temp ranges (the 5 setting on my stove is way different than the one on my parents' stove). Is there a better way to figure out where my stove's 'medium' is than trial and error? (Also if the answer is a thermometer, how do i use the thermometer to figure it out? I doubt poking it against the heating element would be the right method)

Do not poke the heating element.

Your 'Medium' will be the halfway point between 'Low' and 'High'.

It's just how aggressively heat is pumping out, relative to itself.

Because your pan will be losing heat at the same time the stovetop is adding heat, and you'll also lose heat faster if you're constantly stirring the ingredients around, the actual live temp in the pan will vary greatly.

When cooking, you're trying to set the dial for 'Hot enough to get your food to do the reaction you want in the timeframe you want, without cooling too fast or burning)

'High' (numbers 7-9 if your stove has numbers instead of words) is at the top third. 'Medium' (4-6) is in the middle, 'Low' (1-3) is at the bottom third.

The thing is; your stovetop can boil water at nearly every mode. Even at a 3, or 'low' it can keep water at a gentle boil if you leave it alone with the lid on.

The stovetop assumes you'll be COOKING with it if it's on- which means moving the stuff around, moving the pan around, adding cool ingredients - all of which will COOL DOWN the pan.

You can burn something on a LOW heat pan if you leave it alone. Heat builds up and isn't released, steams out all the water, and then turns the dry matter into char.

You can NOT burn something on HIGH heat pan if you move it around enough.

--

Most regular stove-top things are cooked on Medium heat.

You might go up to HIGH if you want to sear the outside, but after it's seared you turn the heat back down.

You might stay on low if you have a delicate sauce or you're just re-heating something that's already cooked, or you've already seared the outside and now want to maintain juuuuust enough heat to finish cooking throughout.

-- In conclusion:

PAY ATTENTION TO WHAT THE FOOD IS DOING IN THE PAN.

If a recipe says "cook for 20 minutes or until golden brown', then take it OFF THE HEAT when it's golden brown, even if only 17 mins have passed.

If a recipe says 'Turn the heat down to medium to reduce it to a simmer' and your pot stays at a ROLLING BOIL, then you need to turn it down a bit further, or take the pan off the heat entirely to get it to gentle to a simmer.

Aim for the goal of that cooking step. Read the recipe and ask questions so you understand WHY each step needs to happen BEFORE YOU START COOKING

Learn how your own equipment behaves. Does it run too hot? Does it heat unevenly? Pay attention to what's going on with your food when cooking! Yes, you may make mistakes, but learn from those mistakes. Either learn about food or learn about your equipment.

Recipes are written by people who are using THEIR OWN equipment. Every recipe was written by a PERSON. Some people have funky stovetops that run way hotter or cooler than average. Their recipe will always assume that your stove is exactly like theirs.

If you KNOW that your stovetop tends to burn things when you follow the recipe exactly, remember to tweak the knob a little lower, so the temp isn't as intense