#I really gotta make them some proper display areas and such

[victorluvsalice]

It did, actually, though it took a while! Sun very reluctant to come out today. . .but eventually it got easier to see all the fun activities I was making my gang do, including:

-->Victor going around harvesting more unidentified plants with the help of his broom, encountering cute chipmunks along the way (and managing to avoid the “bear” that was wandering around and trying to talk to him)

-->Smiler and Alice starting a game of horseshoes at the picnic area! I had Victor go over and join once he was done collecting specimens -- I wasn’t sure for a moment if three Sims could play, as when he came over Smiler suddenly quit the game, but I had Alice invite them back in, and they all ended up taking a turn or two to throw. :) None of them were PARTICULARLY good, but they all seemed to have fun, at least! And I imagine it’s a difficult game to master.

-->The gang indulging in various creative pursuits -- I had Victor make a horse sculpture and a nice display shelf at the woodworking table to increase his Handiness; Alice paint the “station” sign (not a masterpiece, but a nice souvenir, at least!), and Smiler play some songs on the guitar (facing the wall, because apparently that guitar is not exactly in the right spot).

-->And, of course, our Angling Ace Smiler had to go fishing in the nice pond nearby! (Complete with a pretty rainbow!) They got some nice stuff -- a sturgeon, a bass, some parsley in a treasure box. . .

[its-time-to-write]

Hi, first off I want to say that I love your writing. It always makes me smile 🙃🙃.

As for my request, I was wondering if you could please write about Jamie soft launching your relationship on Insta and starting to bring it up in the press. You haven’t met the boys and they are trying to figure out who it is based on his comments and Insta posts. (I may have a Pinterest board with soft launch ideas so…use the screen shots on my page as u wish).

If you don’t have time to write this then no worries. Have a nice day!!!!!!!!!

🫲😇🫱

I listened to “Not All Those Who Wander,” by Miss Lana the whole time I wrote this. 10/10 recommend

it’s just wanderlust

“You’re gonna want to hold off on touching me,” you say as you haul your bags into the house. “Kid fuckin’ spit all over me today and I didn’t even have time to change.”

Jamie wrinkles his nose and takes a step back. “Ew. Fucking gross, that. Is that why you were late coming home?”

You nod, shucking your shoes by the stairs. “Uh huh. Had to talk to the parents post-session. Do a little debrief thing. Thing is, they swore their little angel would never do something like that and next time I should just give him what he wants. Only problem,” you continue as you wash your hands in the kitchen sink, “is that my entire job is not giving him what he wants when he’s displaying inappropriate behaviors. I love that kid, I really do, but his parents are complete twats.”

Jamie nods agreeably. “Was it like projectile or spray?” 

You grimace. “Both. Kid’s got mean aim, but decided to switch it up to cover more surface area.”

You look over at the table, which is set neatly. “I know dinner’s ready and I’m already late, but I really need a shower. I can feel like three inches of grime on my skin.”

“Don’t worry about it babe,” Jamie says. “Takeaway reheats easy.” He hesitates for a moment. “Did you want to shower alone, or..?”

You laugh. Cheeky fucker. 

“Give me three minutes to scrub really well, and then you’re welcome in. You sure you’re good eating late?”

Jamie grins. “Babe, I-”

“Don’t.” You cut him off, finger pointed at him. “Don’t say it. I know where you’re going, and you don’t need to finish that sentence.”

Jamie opens his mouth again but you’re interrupting before he can get his next sentence out. “And if you’re about to make a pun with the word ‘finish,’ I can guarantee it’s nothing you haven’t said before.”

Jamie looks dejected, but his ego obviously isn’t bruised too much because he’s still is on your heels the whole way up the stairs. 

—

You’re showered and back downstairs, the both of you eating dinner in pajamas like proper adults, if proper adults decided that they were allowed to sit on the counter in Jamie’s kitchen. You’re not saying much, just swapping stories about each other’s day. It’s never a dull moment between his time at Nelson Road and your time at the behavioral clinic. 

“Who do you think sees the grossest shit?” you had asked one time. 

“Oh fuck love, it’s gotta be you,” came Jamie’s response. 

“You sure? Because you have like, gross men and stuff. Half of them don’t even know how to do their own laundry.”

Jamie had laughed. “I’m fucking sure. Yeah they smell nasty and shit but like, they’re traumatized by some of the shit you have to deal with.”

He’s got a point. 

Neither of you have a whole bunch to say though, and anyway it’s nice to be in a house that’s quiet. 

Jamie’s the one to break the silence. “What if we started telling people about us?”

You give him a look so he hurries on. “I know you said you weren’t ready, especially with all the press and everything, but what if we just like soft-launched it? Y’know, take a couple photos without seeing your face.”

You chew your dinner thoughtfully. Is this a good time to start carefully introducing your relationship to the world? You’re indispensable to your company, although they may decide to place a higher value on their anonymity than what you bring to the table. It’s not easy providing behavioral therapy to clients who prefer their children to remain unknown. But at the same time, you can’t keep quiet forever. It’s not fair to Jamie. It’s like you’re saying this is only temporary. I’m keeping it a secret because it won’t last so it’s not worth sharing. It’s not true. Jamie is worth sharing, and you have the tiniest spark of hope that this thing you’ve kept going for the past six months is going to last.

Well, maybe not so much a spark of hope as a sneaking suspicion. The kind you feel as a kid when your parents swear they didn’t get you want you wanted for Christmas, but you have the vaguest sense that they’re lying. You don’t want to hope, because what if you’re wrong, but then again, there’s a part of you that can just feel it. 

You’ve been silent for far too long because Jamie says, “Babe? If you don’t want to, it’s ok,” except you can see in his face it isn’t entirely ok.

“I was just thinking,” you reply. “I think- I think I’m good with it. You know, letting people know you’re off the market. Plus it’ll be fun to take more pictures together, My mum keeps bugging me for more.”

Jamie grins. “Mint. The lads are gonna be so fucking psyched.”

—

Ah yes. The lads. Or as they’re better known, the AFC Richmond team. It hasn’t been easy sneaking around them, especially because Ted seemed to Know. Jamie came home one day all spooked because he swore Ted knew he was dating someone.

“Stared straight into me soul, he did,” he said. “Fuckin’ told me he’s surprised I haven’t found a girl yet.”

“That doesn’t sound suspicious, Jaim,” you reply, to which Jamie shakes his head vehemently. 

“You weren’t there, that’s what he said, but he meant somethin’ else. He fucking knows.”

You’d laughed and told him it was fine, even if Ted did know, you didn’t mind. 

After that encounter, there had been vague rumblings that maybe Jamie did have a girl somewhere, or possibly several girls at one time, which prompted a very serious conversation with Isaac and Sam.

“Jamie, you have said that you have changed. You are acting like a better teammate. And yet, dating more than one girl at a time is just wrong,” Sam told him.

“That shit’s sleazy, bruv,” Isaac said. “You can’t be playing around like that.”

So they had gotten Jamie to admit that no, there weren’t multiple girls, just one girl who he had met at a café of all places because he was cheating on his meal plan and she was trying to finish some assessments for work.

You wanted privacy and of course you knew exactly who he was the moment he walked up to your table and said, “hey,” so yeah, it was never going to be easy.

But the way you had wavered ever so slightly when he asked you to dinner was enough to make him realize that this was going to be something different. Something real. Because if the allure of dating national football star Jamie Tartt wasn’t enough for an automatic yes, you must be looking for something deeper. 

Jamie wasn’t sure he was looking for that, but hell he’d give it a go if it meant he got to kiss those soft lips even one time.

So fuck him, he’d fallen for a pretty face in a café on a fucking Sunday and now he has to go home and tell you that people know you exist. That a little bit of your privacy bubble has burst.

You didn’t really care though. You’d been pondering the ethics of a secret relationship for a good long while, so maybe it was good that his teammates knew you existed. 

That was a month before Jamie broached the subject of the soft-launch, so you think maybe you can ease into this. It’ll be fine.

—

The first picture is relatively easy. Just a regular mirror pic, cropped of course, with Jamie’s arms wrapped around you from behind. It’s easy to tell it’s him because his tattoo sleeve is in full view. The caption reads, “soft launch,” with a heart emoji.

The like count is through the roof.

You like it too, because what notice will your account garner in a sea of Jamie Tartt fans?

The Greyhounds lose their minds a little bit, commenting fire emojis and heart eyes and trying to figure out who could possibly be there with Jamie. He comes home after training that day to tell you that there’s a rather convincing conspiracy that he’s dating this famous model they’re all obsessed with.

You’re flattered they think you look like her. Even if they can only see your arms and torso.

“This is gonna be fun, babe,” you say, standing on tiptoes for a kiss. Jamie grins. Anything to torture his team.

—

The second picture is posted two days later, with the caption, “date night.”

You’re sitting at his dining room table, candles and wine glasses strewn about, and Jamie’s kissing you at an angle where you can really only see your hair.

For fun, you comment, “omg, I wish that were me.” Richard Montlaur responds to it, “omg same,” so you show Jamie. He rolls his eyes. 

“Lad thinks he’s funny, don’t he?” he asks.

You grin. “You’d never leave me for Richard, would you?”

Jamie shrugs. “Dunno babe, he is kind of fit.”

You smack his arm playfully and say, “Fuck off, I’m better looking.”

—

You’re almost caught before the big reveal. You’re on a coffee date in a small town, miles from Richmond or Manchester or anywhere Jamie could be easily recognized. It’s a sleepy town, mostly old people, which is why you both decided it’d be safe.

You’re sitting at a table with your coffee while Jamie’s up to grab his, when you see someone go up to him and tap his shoulder.

“Jamie? What are you doing here?” Sam asks.

Jamie jumps a little and places to where you’re sitting before he can stop himself. 

“Oh, um, just getting coffee. You know.”

Sam gives him a quizzical look. “Do you know someone here? This isn’t close to home at all. Are you meeting someone?”

Sam glances around the room and Jamie’s grateful that his gaze does not linger extra long on you. 

Jamie decides the best way to answer is to deflect. “Oi, what’re you doing here? It’s not like this place is fucking famous or some shit.”

Sam shrugs. “I like to try a different coffee shop every weekend. Sometimes I bring Dani, but after last time, I think I’ll have to find someone else.”

Jamie risks a glance at you. You’re hiding behind your latte, suppressing a grin. He’s positive you can hear every word they’re saying.

Sam’s voice breaks through his thoughts. “Would you like to sit with me? It looks like there’s only one table left. Unless your mystery girlfriend is here.”

He laughs and Jamie joins in, just a little too loudly, but he can’t think of an excuse to join you at the table so he follows Sam and tries to send you a subtle I’m sorry with his eyes.

You pull out your phone and send him two laughing emojis, then reach into your bag for your book. Might as well get some reading done.

You let Jamie sit for a good half hour before you decide to do something. You put your things back into your bag and walk over to where they’re sitting.

“Hi, um, I’m sorry to bother you, but are you Sam Obisanya? I’m a huge Richmond fan.”

Sam grins at being recognized, while Jamie lets out a small, “Oi!”

“Oh yes, wonderful to meet a fan! I’m just here with my friend.”

You smile and say, “I just wanted to let you know that you played so well last game. I think you’re the best player on the whole team.”

Jamie snorts and Sam says, “Would you like to take a picture? My friend here would be happy to take it for you.”

Score. “That would be awesome!” you reply. “Then I’ll get out of your way. Don’t want to interrupt your coffee.”

—

“Can’t believe you just did that,” Jamie says, shaking his head mournfully another half hour later. “Fucking acting like you didn’t know who I was. Any self-respecting Richmond fan knows who I am.”

You knock into his shoulder lightly as you walk to the car. “Lucky for your ego, I was just acting. And anyway, I’m hilarious. That’s like, my number one quality.”

“Number two,” Jamie interjects, “It’s your number two quality.”

You ask, “Number two? What’s number one??”

Jamie zips his lips. “I ain’t tellin’, babe. Not good for your ego.”

You giggle as he grabs your waist so he can press a kiss to your neck.

—

Posts three and four go off without a hitch. There’s one of his hand on your knee and a timer picture of you twirling under a streetlamp. You both decide that as far as social media goes, this is as much as they’re going to get. But as far as AFC Richmond goes…

“Babe, you left your phone in the car,” you say as you stroll into the locker room casually as ever.

Jamie takes it from your hand and kisses you before he says, “Thanks babe.”

The locker room is silent, frozen. Colin’s body spray slips from his hand and clatters to the floor, and Beard’s just standing and pointing with his mouth open. 

Roy breaks the silence as he growls, “What the fuck?”

“Oh my god,” Sam follows. “You’re the girl from the coffee shop.”

You grin and say, “Guilty.”

Jamie wraps his arm around your waist. “Lads, this is my girl. Babe, these are the lads.”

There’s silence for a moment longer before the room explodes into a flurry of questions. Neither you nor Jamie can get a word in until Beard yells, “QUIET! Don’t be fuckin’ weird!” 

They all mumble, “Sorry coach,” while Jamie whispers, “You can go if you want. I know you’ve got work and shit. I’ll handle them.”

You squeeze his arm gratefully and slip out the door. You know he’ll take care of things.

[rtnortherly]

Get To Know Your Tav

Tagged by @auspex-author (thanks!) Template by @sporeservant

Rhuna, (she/her) Duergar Circle of Spores Druid

(gotta do a proper portrait of her, also I'm still super early on in the game bc its a co-op and scheduling is hard)

What is your Tav's:

Favourite weapon: Randomly turning into a Deep Rothé and goring people

Style of combat: Tank (accidental) healer (in emergencies)

Most prized possession: A special sample box with her favourite findings on journeys, which include random bones, mushrooms, lichens, bugs, candlesticks, glass jars, random rocks, or whatever other junk she thinks is neat

Deepest desire: To make friends who also think her collection is neat.

Guilty pleasure: Making nasty and weird poisons out of the stuff she finds

Best-kept secret: Rhuna is incapable of intentionally keeping a secret, so her best kept ones are just really badly kept. At this point that's probably her nefarious plot to prank Wyll by filling his tent with glow bugs because he seemed Sad (would he find this helpful? Who can say. Are some of the party very much going to notice her doing this? Certainly.)

Greatest strength: Friendly/easy-going

Fatal flaw: Insatiable curiosity

Favourite smell: Dirt. Any kind of dirt really. In fact, she'll tell you a lot about the area based on how the dirt smells and it's composition.

Favourite Spell or Cantrip: Bone Chill

Pet peeve: Shouting or raised voices

Bad habit: Wandering off

Hidden talent: Stone skipping

Leisure activity: Finding/cataloguing/and sorting samples of fauna/flora

Favourite drink: Spiced goat milk

Comfort food: Roasted sweet potato

Favourite person(s): (She'd like anyone really) Zilvra, (sister's Tav) the fellow Underdark originator and snarky sorcerer who let her join in the adventure and appreciates her contributions, Karlach for being so cool and funny and nice and cool, Wyll for being the biggest sweetheart and most courteous and patient individual she has encountered. Withers because she doesn't understand a thing he says but he 's pretty neat, being a skeleton and all. Dammon because he's a nerd and she respects that. And he's also nice. Halsin because he seems pretty patient and tolerant and like he won't be weird if she starts info dumping about her mushrooms and lichens, and might even have his own thoughts on the topic (he reminds her of home)

Favoured display of affection (platonic and/or romantic): quality time and words of affirmation.

Fondest childhood memory: harvesting phosphorescent micro organisms from the rocks and using them for war paint in epic games of tag with other children in her community

Is there anything else you'd like to share? (feel free to include art or a screenshot of your Tav if available!)

Rhuna doesn't have many memories of life within the Duergar community, or with her biological family. She spent a large portion of her life with a group a druids who were mostly comprised of Deep Gnomes. They tended to travel between different warrens in the Underdark every seven years or so, and the journey was often perilous and could take months at a time. When they arrived at a new warren, they would begin to establish colonies of different flora, and then when it was well established, they would leave it to grow wild free of cultivation. It was also customary for their deceased to be used to start new fungal colonies.

As for folks to tag, I don't have the gumption right now (though I'd tag my sister so y'all could learn more about Zilvra if she were on tumblr.) However, if you want to jump in on this, please do! I love a good character read, and this one is fun!

[muselin]

What's your opinion on how you think Seonghwa would in bed?

Sorry it's taken me so long to respond to this, between travelling, work and other fics I wanted to give it proper time and really formulate my thoughts well. I've done this in two parts. This part is where I will unpack Seonghwa a little bit, and in the next part will be the smutty conclusions I make off of that.

Before I start: if anyone feels differently about any of this, I'm super open to discussion and happy to hear people's reasoning. What I am not open to is hate, dissing, swearing or any otherwise less than polite forms of discussion. Now, on to Seonghwa in bed.

You've done this as the astrology expert already, so I will approach this through my own areas of expertise (in my 101 post I've mentioned it briefly, blink and you'll miss it. If anyone wants "creds" - I'll oblige).

So. Seonghwa. Since this isn't an NSFW alphabet or anything similar, I gotta unpack him a little first, and I'll just bullet point things otherwise we'll be here all day:

Members have said that he is not very different on camera and off compared to some other members like San, so to me this means that any behavioural cues I'm picking up would be mostly unaltered and therefore mostly true to his character, or if they're out of character that would be noticeable.

He has an interesting relationship with his appearance. He's talked about having had self-esteem issues in the past, but it was not very clear to me whether these were around his appearance, skills, personality traits or all of the above. Recently he shared that he aspired to be a model in the past, to the point of going to the doctor with his mother for a height assessment to see if there was likelihood he would grow any taller but was told he would not, and he immediately gave up on becoming a model. Things like height assessments are normally done before a person has reached full physical maturity, so this is likely to have been in Seonghwa's early to mid-teen years.

What does that mean? That he likely spent quite a lot of time, years possibly, practicing his expressions, poses, general poise and things that models are assessed and sought for. He knows the allure of these things and very much wanted to possess them and project them. One of three things happens to people in these cases:

This oozing sensuality that we often see from Seonghwa is natural for some people, they are aware of it and hone it, which could be Seonghwa's case.

If it didn't come naturally to him, he was certainly aware of its allure and practiced it to the point where it eventually did become a natural part of his personality (I mean have you seen him eat ice cream??).

Or, it did not come naturally to him but he did practice it to the point where he can project it perfectly. However it might not have actually become part of his personality, and his real personality may be somewhat more innocent and less sensual. The illusion of natural, commanding sensuality could have become a compensatory mechanism for his general feelings of insecurity.

With most things the truth is most likely somewhere in the middle, so there's a high chance that a good amount of this projected sensuality and sexual aura actually is part of Seonghwa.

Now, to add on, the man is obsessed with ASMR and also creates content for it. ASMR is all about sensations in their purest form - auditory and tactile especially, less so visual but that can also play a part. It is all about focusing on the effect of a stimulus on the senses. He also eats loads, and there we have taste and smell covered as well as they go together when it comes to this. So he has a lot of focus on pretty much all of the main five senses. Senses = sensuality.

Taking everything into account, this does add up to a high chance that Seonghwa actually does possess and display unbridled sensuality and is not afraid to use that as the valuable tool that it can be. And that would translate to the bedroom (or any other location) as well.

What could that look like? Here we get to the NSFW stuff in Part 2.

[jgvfhl]

The Number Lads

Part 1/???? 3K words, no warnings :)

 So I’ve created an audience on Tumblr for the Number Lads, and I’ve happened to got 3K words here for them. So! Here are the origins of the Number Lads! More to follow.... eventually....

For future reference:

Sevenset = ARC-7777 = ARCBoiiiii

Do-si-do = CT-2222 = Double Trouble

Trees = CT-3333 = Green Bean

Loops = CT-8888 = Loopy

Sixes = CC-6666

Double Trouble: i meant it as a joke sevens

ARCBoiiiiii: i didn’t

ARCBoiiiii: what you think you can drop that information on me and i wont use it??? how long have you known me

Double Trouble: okay okay but if you die i’m not mourning you

Loopy: ouch

Green Bean: how do you have this much time to comm us when you’re at ARC training, sevenset

Green Bean: who changed my name

Double Trouble: :3c

ARCBoiiiii: what you don’t like it? thought it suited you, trees

Green Bean: why did i let you guys talk me into this club…

ARCBoiiiii: we’re awfully convincing that way

Double Trouble: you felt compelled

Double Trouble: it’s the numbers gang bond

Green Bean: it was not that

ARCBoiiiii: was it loops space buns

ARCBoiiiii: i bet it was loops space buns

Loopy: what

Double Trouble: they are adorable

Loopy: oh kriff you, don’t you have arc stuff to do, sevenset?

ARCBoiiiii: ehhhhh my next training block doesnt start for another 4min, so....

Double Trouble: well i gotta run, we’re going hyperspace in a min or so--remember the meeting next week!!! be there or be square!

ARCBoiiiii: we dont have any perfect squares yet ;-;

Green Bean: Yeah, yeah, i’ll see you weirdos eventually

Loopy: stay alive out there

Double Trouble: especially the guy who wants to recruit Commander Death over there

ARCBoiiiii: I’ll be fiiinnnne whats the worst that can happen

Green Bean: i mean. his name. is DEATH?

ARCBoiiiii: ..... a fair point.... i guess you’ll just have to wait until the next numbers gang meeting huh :)

Loopy: maker help you

----

Sevenset was uncharacteristically quiet that day during second meal, but only because his mouth was continually occupied with food, not talking. He was on the clock today.

“Hey, Sevenset, are you inhaling those rations, or…?”

He looked over at Buster next to him, quickly swallowing his food. “I just got something I wanna do,” he said, taking a glug of water.

“Something so important you’re taking one of the few unscheduled breaks we have to do it? Okay then.”

Sevenset cleaned the rest of his tray, flashing a grin at Buster as he stood up. “Don’t wanna be late. Got a meeting with death.” He really couldn’t resist the pun. Honestly.

Buster’s eyebrow raised skeptically. His friend next to him, Sketch, asked, “Is this about some new way you’ve managed to piss off the trainers? Because yeah, I’m sure Alpha could arrange a meeting with death for you if you… I dunno, painted pink hearts on his armor.”

“Amazing idea,” Sevenset admitted, his brain automatically figuring out where the pink paint was (he’d have to make it), where Alpha-17’s armor lived (not sure on that one), and how possible it would be to sneak in and out to accomplish the task (a challenge). “However, no, not this time. See you guys later!” He deposited his tray and utensils in the proper area to be cleaned, then jogged out of the mess hall.

Kamino’s winding halls and levels really weren’t efficient--but compared to Coruscant… he couldn’t really argue. A healthy stretch of time in the Guard had given him plenty of tools to make his way around inefficient, crowded, twisty places like this. It didn’t take long before he reached where he was going. Aside from the resident Rancor Battalion, there were often troopers on Kamino from various groups throughout the GAR. They stayed out of the way of those training in separate wings of Tipoca City, and right now, Sevenset was very keen to speak to a visiting commander.

He slipped into a lift with two other troopers--visiting, by the looks of their battered armor. Luckily, they were too engrossed in their own conversation to really notice him, despite his rather colorful tattoos that usually made him stick out. But it was for the best this time. He got off at the level above and started down the hall, reading door labels as he went, searching….

Ah. Here. He pushed a button to open the door, but it was locked. Not entirely surprising, but… now what? If his internal clock was still fairly accurate, he had about ten minutes before he needed to be back for the next training block.

“It’s locked for a reason.”

He whirled, his body almost automatically snapping to attention at the low voice behind him.

Commander Sixes (AKA Commander Death, remember) surveyed him with a disturbing lack of expression. He was tall, for a clone. Probably closer in height to some of the Alphas than to Sevenset. His black armor stuck out like green plants on Coruscant in the brightly lit halls of Tipoca City, making him somehow look even bigger. Even more unnerving, he still had his helmet on, the visor lit with a dull green light, and fixed pointedly on him. Sevenset hated not being able to read people...

Sevenset hadn’t planned for this. Come to think of it, a lot of the “plan” he’d concocted relied on a few assumptions, and all of them seemed to be fading. One of them had been that he would have no problem talking to a CO--he never had before. “Sir, hi--hello--I was uhm…” He managed to clamp down on the first coherent thought to float through his head, so instead of blurting, “You’re a lot taller than I thought you’d be,” he stumbled upon, “It’s a nice room you’ve got. From the outside,” and immediately wanted to bash his head in on the wall.

The commander’s helmet never moved, just kept staring him down. “Get out of my way,” he finally growled, taking a step forward.

Against all better judgement, Sevenset stood his ground, although he squished himself a bit closer against the door. “Yessir, of course, just--one thing, really quick thing, I promise.” When the commander didn’t kill him or rip his arms off or something, he went on, finally finding his words were cooperating with him. “So, you’re CC-6666, naturally. I happen to be CT-7777--Sevenset, I’m Sevenset. There’s a group of us, see, sir--with the repeating numbers, and we have little meetings--”

“No.”

“--is what I thought you’d say, but just--” he paused, fumbling a bit to pull a piece of flimsi out of his pocket. “There’s the frequency, there’s the date of the next meeting,” he said, holding out the flimsi scrap. “I’m sure the other boys would love it if you dropped by.” The end of his final sentence shriveled into an undignified squawk when Commander Sixes reached out, grabbed his collar, and shoved him bodily out of the way of the door.

“Get back to training before I have some of my boys drag you there,” he said, entering the door’s access code.

“I’ve got six minutes--”

The door slid shut in his face. Well. He was still alive. So… that counted as a success. Perhaps not a resounding success, but a success. He stood in stunned silence for a moment, still clutching the scrap of flimsi in his hand, wondering if he should stick it in the door so the commander would find it later. However, he had no trouble believing the commander’s threat that his men literally would drag him back to the ARCs if he told them to, so it was probably best not to linger.

Sevenset jumped to attention for the second time that day when the door slid open again. He just stood there, dumb, as Commander Sixes stepped out, plucked the scrap of flimsi from his fingers, then returned to his room with about as much ceremony as befitted dumping pebbles out of a boot.

Oh, yeah. Definitely a success.

---

The first thing Sixes did once back in the privacy of his albeit temporary rooms was remove the top half of his armor, only leaving the gauntlet with his wrist comm. Turning his attention to said wrist comm, he entered Colt’s number. There was a short wait before the other commander answered it.

“Everything alright over there, Sixes, sir?”

“It’s about one of the ARC candidates.”

There was a pause. Understandable. The ARCs weren’t supposed to be in this wing of Tipoca City. “Which one?” His tone suggested he already had his suspicions.

“Calls himself Sevenset.”

He heard inaudible muttering on the other end. “What’d he do this time?” Sixes had suspected as much.

“Quite a pair he’s got on him, hasn’t he?”

Colt laughed dryly. “Yeah, sure. Hopefully, he’s worth the trouble.”

Sixes looked over the scrap of flimsi in his other hand. “Yeah… I think he might be.”

~+~

Leaning back in his pilot’s chair, Do-si-do watched the little light on the ship’s holoprojector, waiting for the others to join the meeting. He always took the calls in his ship. It was more private than his bunk most of the time, and frankly, the audio quality was so much better than on the hand-held devices.

Trees was the first to join, punctual as usual.

“Hey, Trees,” he smiled.

“Have you heard from Sevenset yet?” he asked.

Do-si-do shook his head, combing strands of his bleached curls out of his face. “Nah. Figure he’s been too busy. Graduation was supposed to be a couple days ago, right?”

“Three, yes.”

Loops’ holographic miniature appeared beside Trees’. He looked exhausted, but awake. His long hair was down from his signature twin buns, and he leaned his chin on his hand, fingers resting just over the infinity symbol tattoo on his cheek.

“Loops,” Trees greeted him.

“Mph.”

“What happened to you?” Do-si-do asked.

“Supply shipment,” Loops sighed. “General Koon’s having skeleton crews tonight so we can get some sleep.” After a stifled yawn, he asked, “Is Sevenset dead yet?”

Do-si-do smiled. “Trees asked the same thing, and I have no idea.”

As if on cue, a third hologram popped up on the ship’s control panel. Sevenset beamed at them, his new ARC pauldrons proudly on display. “Guess who’s not dead, fellas!”

“Hey hey! Look at you, ARC-7777,” Do-si-do grinned, leaning forward in his seat. “How’s it feel?”

“I really love the kama, gotta be honest.” He was only visible from the waist up, but they could see him sway his hips back and forth, clearly enjoying his new gear.

“Show us the paint,” Loops demanded, as firmly has he could demand it in his half-asleep state.

Sevenset obliged, setting down his holoprojector--his personal one, now he had graduated--and stepping back so more of his body was visible. The paint job was fairly similar to his previous armor--the sharp edges, the circle on his right shoulder bell holding four stylized sevens--but the new armor on his chest and arms had forced some alterations. They could see just about all of the kama now, the bright red sevens standing out against the dark grey fabric. Predictable, maybe, but still eye-catching. That was Sevenset’s main goal, if it weren’t already clear from the tapestry of tattoos on his bald head that ran down his neck under his blacks, and the several glinting piercings in his ears and nose.

“It’s definitely you.” Trees, bluntly.

“They let you keep the red paint, huh?” Do-si-do said. Sevenset had previously been assigned to the Coruscant Guard. After proving a bit more trouble than the Guard could take, and catching some CO’s eye, he’d been shipped back to Kamino a couple months ago to join Rancor.

“Hey, if Commander Colt can have it, I guess I can too. No one stopped me.”

Without warning, a fourth hologram appeared beside the others in front of Do-si-do’s eyes. A trooper--a big trooper, even in miniature--and in dark armor, helmet included. His brows scrunched together as he studied the person, failing to recognize them.

Sevenset did. “Commander!”

“I see Colt decided against tossing you overboard.”

Oh, no karking way. “Commander Sixes?” Do-si-do blurted.

At the same time, Loops made some unintelligible noise and suddenly disconnected, and Trees froze like a lizard when a hawk flies overhead, his eyes gone wide, one arm half-way to a salute. Frankly, Do-si-do could understand their reactions. Commander Sixes--like many of the CCs--was legendary. His wing of Star Fighters had fought through some of the toughest space battles so far, and always came out of it. As a pilot himself, Do-si-do had heard story after story about their skills. The fighter wing and the commander now wore the nickname Death, thanks to their brutal but effective tactics.

There was a brief and painfully quiet pause before the commander said, “Pride of the GAR, this lot.”

“Eh, they’ll get over it,” Sevenset shrugged, his hologram appearing to zoom in as he came closer again. “Right, Trees?” he added with a grin. Their friend was still in shock, it looked like. “Might have to tell him to relax, sir.”

The commander’s helmet turned towards Trees. “At ease. Take a breath before you pass out.”

Trees blinked, lowering his arm. “Yessir,” he said quietly, throwing a glance over his shoulder.

“I’ll try to get Loops back,” Sevenset said, a datapad appearing in his hands. Damn, ARCs really did get all the good stuff. Do-si-do still had to share a datapad with his squad of pilots.

“Shouldn’t there be more?” Commander Sixes asked.

“Of us? Yeah,” Do-si-do answered. “I guess there should be nine of us, in theory.”

“Nine or ten,” Trees said, his tone still a bit clipped.

“Ten or eleven, actually,” Sevenset corrected, still looking at his datapad. “We don’t know if a CT designation can be all zeroes. Might have been taken out of the system, who knows.”

“It’s hard when we don’t have access to the full GAR database,” Do-si-do went on. “We have to rely on hearsay and brothers from other battalions. Sevenset and I met by chance on Coruscant.” Loops’ hologram reappeared. He looked a bit more awake now, still visibly on edge from the commander’s arrival, and with a glower on his face. “Loopy! Welcome back.”

“I hate you.”

“Whoa, hey, I didn’t know he was coming either,” he defended himself. “Blame Sevenset.”

“I’m blaming both of you,” Loops said. “You told Sevenset about him, and Sevenset was stupid enough to go through with it.”

Sevenset, his attention off his datapad and back on the meeting, put a hand over his heart. “Stupid enough?” he repeated, doing his best to sound utterly wounded. “I think you mean ballsy enough.”

“He meant stupid enough,” the commander replied immediately and without emotion. “And I agree.”

Do-si-do snorted a laugh at the look of utter indignation on Sevenset’s face. Even Trees relaxed a bit more. “Okay, I can get used to having a CC around,” he grinned.

“Finally, someone with the authority to tell him off,” Loops said, expressing Do-si-do’s feelings exactly.

The recipient of their mocking pouted at them, folding his arms as best he could with his new armor. “Now I just feel unloved.”

“Why do I get the feeling Commander Fox was only too happy to get you qualified for ARC training?” the commander asked, his tone remaining impassive.

“For your information,” Sevenset said, then stopped, realizing, as they all had, that the commander had known where Sevenset had previously served. No one had told him this information. “How did you know I was in the Guard?”

They all turned to the commander. “I’m a commander. I can look anyone up. I looked you all up.”

Do-si-do leaned even farther forward in his seat, a huge smile on his face. “You have access to the full database?”

“You can find the others!” Sevenset completed, a similar smile on his face as well.

There was a pause. Do-si-do was starting to think Commander Sixes just liked the drama they created. In fact, judging by how he had yet to show his face and was wearing all black armor, it seemed Commander Death was fond of the dramatic in a few ways. “In theory, sure.”

“Yes! Oh, fantastic,” Sevenset went on, rubbing his hands together. “You can tell us where they’re stationed--”

“If they’re still alive,” Trees added in. He had a point.

“--and then we can find them!”

The commander’s helmet tilted, his expression hidden. “I’m guessing Fox declined membership,” he said.

Do-si-do snorted a gain, and Trees and Loops both smiled. They all remembered Sevenset’s story of trying to recruit Commander Fox to be number ten for their little group.

“If by ‘declined membership’ you mean, ‘shipped me out to Kamino for someone else to deal with,’ then yes,” Sevenset answered. “He declined.”

“Maybe you can ask him,” Loops said.

“Hey, yeah--”

“No.” The commander’s tone didn’t leave much room for argument, but that had never stopped Sevenset a day in his life, and Do-si-do was more than content to sit back and enjoy the show.

“But you’re his big brother, right? You can drag him into things--”

“I’m not a damn recruiter, ARC, now stand down.”

The effect was instantaneous. They all recognized a CO’s “talk back and you’ll be cleaning ‘freshers for the next month” voice. Combined with Commander Sixes’ already awe-inspiring reputation, his order shut them all up. Trees once again straightened to attention, and this time they all joined him, even Sevenset.

“Understood, sir,” he replied. Do-si-do could see the new training in him now. Sevenset wouldn’t be an ARC if he didn’t know when to drop the comic act, but the speed and discipline with which he’d done so just now was different.

The commander waited a second or two, then he nodded once. “At ease.”

They relaxed, mostly. It was hard to ignore the mood shift that had taken place. As cool as it was having a commander in the club… there were some obvious issues that needed addressing if this was going to remain a “just for fun” place.

Do-si-do found himself as the one breaking the uneasy silence. “But… you can help us find where the others are stationed, right, sir?”

The commander’s helmet dipped. “Yeah, I can do that.”

“Can you do that… now?” Sevenset ventured.

The commander’s helmet tilted to one side, and it looked like he sighed. “Fine.” The others perked up. “But, I can only find their assignments, not their current locations.”

“We can work with that,” Do-si-do agreed, and the others nodded along. “Who’s writing this down?”

“I can!” Sevenset volunteered.

Trees reminded him, “Your handwriting is entirely illegible. Even to you.”

“Yes, but now I have a datapad. I can type all my notes.”

“I’m just going to start talking if you boys don’t figure it out,” the commander warned.

“Okay, okay, fine, Trees can copy it.”

Trees’ organization skills would always beat out Sevenset’s anyway. Maybe ARC training had fixed that, though. Trees shifted around, grabbing what he needed, then looked up and nodded when he was ready.

The commander’s helmet tipped down to look at something--presumably a datapad--as he spoke. “CT-4444 is with the Marines under Bacara. Probably has limited contact availability depending on the mission. Infrequent leave.” Do-si-do’s eyebrows raised, and he glanced at Sevenset and Loops. They hadn’t been expecting a tactical rundown of each person. But… they wouldn’t complain. “CT-27-5555 is the only ‘fives’ trooper in the GAR. He’s one of Rex’s freaks, so good luck getting your hands on him.”

“That’s the five-oh-first, right?” Loops asked. “Torrent, or something?”

“Yeah. Rex’s freaks. I’m sure he’ll fit right in.” Do-si-do smirked. He probably would. “And CT-9999 is with Ghost Company in the two-twelfth. Pretty decent chance he and number five have run missions together. Or will in the future, anyway.”

“Is there a CT-0000?” Loops wanted to know.

“What about eleven-eleven?” Sevenset added.

The commander glanced up at them, then back to his materials. “Yeah, the one-eighteenth has a CT-0000. Didn’t find an eleven-eleven, though.”

Do-si-do frowned. “Not even a casualty report?”

“No.”

“But… he could still be on Kamino, right?” Trees said. “Cadets don’t show up in the main database until they graduate and deploy.”

The commander nodded. “He could be a cadet.”

“I could look,” Sevenset offered. “I mean. I live here now, so I should be able to find out if a CT-1111 exists. It’ll just take a bit longer.”

“Yeah, we’ll figure it out,” Do-si-do nodded. “In the meantime,” he continued, leaning forward, “who’re we going after first?”

Ta-daaa!! @blsmjoon @nintendolover13-ts4 (I couldn’t tag your side blog sorry) @alamogirl80 (idk why I can’t tag you either ;-;) @23-bears @theultimatesandwich

[innocent-chris-evans-slut]

Sunday BBQ

My Masterlist ✨

Requests are open.

Chris Evans x Reader

Word Count: 2,5k

Type: smut

Summary: Lisa had hosted a barbecue at her house, her four children and some close family friends. It was a hot August day in Boston, and you were wearing your fav skirt and a simply white crop top, which highlighted your tan. Chris couldn’t take his eyes off of you and you noticed it. He was wearing a blue t-shirt, which tightened around his muscular biceps.

Warning(s): dirty talk, daddy kink, spanking, rough sex

A wave of heat had hit Boston that day. You couldn’t go to the beach -it was too hot-, neither could you stay in for the entire Sunday. Then your mother had called, saying that Lisa Evans had organized a barbecue at her place, and you took the chance almost immediately.

You wore the first thing you had caught in your wardrobe and got in your car, never living behind Toby -your dog. You jumped in your brother’s red Jeep and in less than fifteen minutes you were parking in front of Lisa Evans’ house.

It wasn’t the biggest house you’ve ever been in, but Mama Evans knew how to take care of her garden, in fact you loved how it was arranged and the beautiful and colorful flowers on the grass. Not by chance Lisa hosted almost every Sunday a big barbecue with family’s friends and her children’s families and friends. Since when you were a child, you’d always waited the Sundays only to go to the Evans’ and have fun.

“Mum and dad are already there”, Tom told you while you were getting out of his car. Together you crossed the road and reached the Evans’ front door, “Aideen and Cristal are coming”.

Toby barked as soon as the door was opened, and you watched him disappearing into the crowded living room. You panted and turned to greet Shanna, who had welcomed you in her mother’s house.

“The guys are in the backyard”, she informed your brother, who crossed the living room and made his way to the yard. Instead you followed Shanna in the kitchen, where you met your mother and Cristal, your younger sister. “So, how is it going at school? Do the children already love their new teacher?”

“It isn’t that simple”, you answered, thanking Lisa as she filled a glass of lemonade for you, “But…they trust me and laugh at my jokes. That’s my biggest achievement so far”, all the women in the room laughed at your statement, including your mother, who had heard that story a couple of times before. “It’s been a while since last Sunday at the Evans’.”

“I know, my dear. This summer I’m determined to re-establish the tradition”, Lisa caressed your back and sent you a reassuring smile, before being interrupted by her husband.

“Ladies, lunch is almost ready.”

You, as all the women in the room, headed out the kitchen and followed Mr. Evans in the backyard, where you brother and other men were grilling meat. You approached Scott, who had been waving you since you had stepped out of the house, “Hey, man!”

“Hey, stranger. I haven’t seen you in ages”, Scott, being a child, as always, teased you and poked your nose, “What’s going on?”

“I’ve been busy with kids at school. I’m officially a teacher!” you cheered and made a quick happy dance, just like when you were a child and happy danced basically for everything, “I’m so…uuh” you stopped talking when you felt something slimy on your ankle. You looked down and saw a tiny white dog licking you, “Hi, baby. Already tired of playing with other dogs?” you grabbed him in your hands and petted his head, just as he liked it.

“He’s a hairball and he’s lazy. Prove me that I’m wrong”, a strong, deep voice said, and you knew who was trying to make you angry, “Just like his owner”.

Chris Evans stood in front of you, one arm around his brother’s shoulder and a cold beer in the other hand. “Hi”, he stuck out his tongue at you and it reminded you how much a child he was.

“What are you doing here?” you asked in a harsh tone, succeeding in not let your excitement to show up, “No movie? No Hollywood Star appointment?” You let Toby rush to his food as you saw Shanna reaching out for him

“Nope, unfortunately for you”, his attention was completely on you, once that Scott had excused himself and ran away from the two of you, “Free for my family and friends”, he took one last drink from his beer and threw the bottle in its proper can, “And you, of course”.

“Good luck with that. Last time didn’t go so well”, having said that, you left him alone, with his thoughts, and made your way back to where your mother and brothers were. “Is that anything left for me?” you took a plate and filled it up with chips, grilled vegetables and an infinite amount of sauces.

Basically, everything that was on the long buffet table, except for the meat -which was being grilled by the men. Logan, your older brother, dragged you in front of the grill and made you wait there with a huge, ceramic dish in your hands. You looked at how all the men were focused on their portion of the grill, but only one caught your attention and it was Chris.

He had his sleeves rolled up and his broad biceps fully on display for everyone. His pecs tensed underneath the think material of his blue shirt and you could clearly see them.

“D’you like what you see?” his tease snapped you out of your thoughts. He saw you blinking and gasping, before, eventually, addressing him an annoyed face, “What? You’re basically drooling over me”, he flipped the grilling meat, interrupting your exchange of gaze, “I have eyes, Little One”.

“Stop calling me like that!”

“It’s not a nickname, it’s a matter of fact” Chris pierced various steaks of meat and nodded you to get closer to him, which you did -even if reluctantly, “You’re ten years younger than me, if I’m not wrong”, he started filling up the dish in your hands with steaks and hot dogs.

“Yeah, you’re right”, you rolled your eyes and stuck out your tongue, “And I hate you”, you saw as he put down the big fork and the spatula and grabbed the plate from your hands -which was becoming hotter.

“Nah, you don’t”, he nodded towards his beer -the second of the day- behind you and you got you had to grab that, “You secretly love me”.

“And that’s such a secret that I didn’t even know it”, you stated and look at your feet as you got down of the area where the grills were. “Thank you for enlightening me, by the way”.

After placing the dish down on the buffet table, you gave the beer back to its owner. While you were handing it to him, your fingers slightly touched, but it was enough for you to shiver.

You couldn’t deny that; Chris had been your first serious crush and being friend with him didn’t help you cause. Moreover, being him very friendly with quite everyone, he’d never missed the chance to hug you, kiss your cheek, or touch your thighs while laughing together -and you loved him being touchy with you.

But that, damn, that wasn’t something you looked for, it came and brought butterflies to your stomach. You taught to kids in elementary school, yet at that moment you felt like a teenager, inexperienced with guys.

You raised your eyes and found him already looking at you. It was like a movie scene; with the two characters whose lives changed once their hands touched. But it was real life, and, in the real life, things didn’t go as in a movie. Your special moment was ruined by your mother yelling your name and searching for you in the yard.

“I gotta go. That’s yours”, and without saying another word, you rushed across the garden and disappeared, leaving Chris speechless and jammed.

You were stuck with your mother and sisters for three hours. You ate with them and told them how your teaching life was going that far, which had been exciting for the first fifteen minutes, then it annoyed you, too. You found yourself often searching for a pair of blue-green eyes which had your knees tremble not long before.

When you could no longer listen to your mother talking about your happy childhood and how your parents had been crucial in your academic choice, you excused yourself and got up, heading to the bathroom. It was occupied at the first floor, so you made your way upstairs and quickly found the room you were looking for.

“Sneaking in my bedroom?”

You flinched when you heard a male voice coming from behind you, and you knew whose voice was that, “You’re unbelievable”.

“Nah, I’m incredible”, Chris put his phone in his back pocket and lowered his gaze at you, “And you’re really cute today”.

You shook your head as the grip on the door handle tightened, “Cute?” you lowered your gaze, looking how you were dressed and looked back at him, “Are you noticing it only now?”

Chris didn’t reply to you, he had a quick glance at your surroundings and wrapped his arms around your waist, pushing you against the door behind you, “I did notice it”, his hand reached the handle and pushed it down. Chris pulled you inside and locked the door once inside, “And I’ve thinking about one-hundred ways to get you under me”.

You weren’t surprised, not at all. To everyone’s eyes you and Chris were just friends who liked hanging out together whenever it was possible. The truth was that you two had history, behind everyone’s back.

You felt his biceps flexing under your hands and you smirked, “And which one is you favorite?” you placed your hands at the base of his neck, “C’mon, tell me”, you encouraged him when you saw he wasn’t going to answer your question.

“We’re in my parents’ house, what makes you think I’m gonna fuck you here?” his grip tightened around your waist and that made you gasp, “C’mon, tell me”, he mocked of you when you didn’t reply to him immediately.

“You become ruthless when it comes to fuck”, you moved your hands behind his neck and pulled a string of hair too long. You brushed his cheek with your lips, and you heard him groaning. Not completely satisfied with yourself, you pulled closer to him and crushed your hips against him.

“Bend over.”

His firm and harsh tone made you shiver. It had always done. When talking like that with you, Chris knew he had you wet, trembling, and throbbing for him. He knew you would have begged him until you were no longer capable of speaking.

You did as he asked, and your face met the cold marble surface before you could hear an abrupt sound and warm spreading on your left ass-cheek.

“Did you just-?” you lifted your head and looked straight at him, startled by what he had just done.

“You can bet you ass I did”, having said that, Chris let his hand fall on your ass once more and the vibration of that spank went straight to your throbbing clit, “Now…tell me what I wanna hear”.

You heard metal noises coming from behind you, acknowledging what he was doing, “Please”.

“I’ll show your ass to the word if you don’t say the magic words”, his big, callous hands went raising your baby blue skirt up to your hips, and soon after they automatically found their way to your chest. Chris dangerously shoved his hardening cock against your core and hissed in pleasure.

You couldn’t endure it anymore; the pleasure growing inside you was too much that it was becoming painful and you knew he wouldn’t let you come if you misbehaved. Your clit was hurting, and it was a matter of time before you would drip yourself wet. You closed your eyes and gave up: “Please, daddy, fuck me”, Chris’ hand went down on your ass-cheek abruptly once more and encouraged you to go on, “Pleeease. I’ve been craving you all day”, you pushed your ass towards his hips, and you heard him cursing under his breath.

“You’re acting like a brat”, he set his buckle next to your face and you shivered, “Do you know what brats get?”

You didn’t reply to him, not because you didn’t want to, but because the pain was becoming too much that you couldn’t assemble a sentence.

“What-”, spank, “-do-”, another spank, “-they-“, Chris changed side, “-get?” one last spank.

“T-they…don’t g-get to c-come”, you were a trembling mess. Your weight was completely on your chest as your legs caved in when he’d started spanking you, “B-but, please, make me cum, daddy”.

“If you keep it quiet and low, I can consider making you come”, Chris’ hands searched for your underwear and, once found it, he pulled it down to your ankles, “Quiet and low, remember”.

You closed your eyes and prayed the God as Chris pushed himself inside you, stretching all your inner muscles. You moaned when he pulled out, only to go back where he left and boost his entire length inside your channel. You arched your back as you felt his thumb teasing your asshole, “P-please”.

“Oh, God…” Chris groaned as increased his pace. Thrusts became quicker and fiercer, leaving you breathless, “Keep it low”, he warned you not a second before adopting an ungodly speed.

You couldn’t form a word anymore, the only things coming out from your mouth were moans -which you had to hold on. You could only beg him for your own release, which wasn’t far away since the familiar warm had already formed and was spreading in your stomach.

“As much I want to take my time with you-“ Chris lifted your chin and made you look at him while speaking, “-I’ve thought of taking you like this the whole day-“, he kissed your forehead and left a trail of sweet kisses from there to your mouth, “-after this, we call it a day and leave”, as he pinched your clit, you both came and you had to repress a scream.

You were out of breath, bent over the furniture in the bathroom of Lisa Evans’ house, and at the mercy of her older son. In less than fifteen minutes Chris had transformed you into a whimpering and sweating mess, you were sticky between your legs, and you back hurt for the countless times you had arched it, “Chris”, you called him, who didn’t appeared better than you, “You gotta help me”.

The man behind you giggled, but helped you standing back on your feet, he re-dressed you and rested a kiss on your collarbone, jaw, nose, and, finally, lips, “Have I ever told you how much I actually like you?” he rhetorically asked, looking straight at your eyes.

“Only every time you fuck me. And before fucking me another time”, you wrap your arms around his waist and rested your head in the crock of his neck, inhaling his strong, musky, after-sex scent -the one you loved so much, yet you weren’t brave enough to tell him that.

“Don’t fall asleep. We have a long afternoon and a long night in front of us”, Chris rub a thumb on your left cheek, and you closed your eyes, wallowing that sensation, “Let’s go, Princess”.

Tag List: 

ALL MY STORIES: 

@thummbelina

@thegetawaywriter

@coffeebooksandfandom

@kiza4​ 

ALL CHRIS EVANS: 

@stargazingfangirl18

@rororo06​

[roguesandsaviors]

What’s in a Name?

Fandom: Sweet Virginia

Characters: Sam Rossi, Maggie, Madison (OFC) (mention only)

Pairing: None

Summary: Sam has bonded with one of the bottle puppies that Madison had and decided to keep him. The problem is he can’t seem to name him.

Word Count: 1,592

Rating: SFW

Warning: None

A/N: Mistakes are all my own as it is un-beta’ed. Hope everyone enjoys.Special thanks to @darlingshane​ for being excited about the little bit that she read, which was enough to prompt the end of this little fic. It feels so nice to finish something and get it posted!

***************************************************************************************************

The small whines pulled Sam from his sleep. He grunted and rolled, having a moment of difficulty in pushing himself out of the bed. That would be the sound of the pup that he was taking care of. After bottle feeding the little thing, he couldn’t part with him. Was it smart? No. He didn’t need another thing to take care of but he didn’t have it in his heart when the pup seemed so attached to him. The quickly growing dog was bouncing by the door, tail wagging and continuing it’s small whines.

“Okay boy. I’m up. Hold on.” Sam grabbed the leash that was hanging by the door, quickly throwing on his jacket over his shirtless form, and stepped outside with the pup. The motel parking lot was quiet, residents asleep or tucked away at this time of the night. It didn’t take long for the pup to do his business, picking a spot not too far from the door. Sam was grateful for that with the ache in his leg. Giving the dog a soft praise, he led him back into the room. Without prompt, he moved over to the bed and hopped up. Sam chuckled and shook his head.

“Oh, you know better than that.” Sam moved over to the bed and tried to shoo the dog off of the mattress. A small whine came and he stretched out more. “No, no, no. You don’t get to sleep in the bed. You are going to be too big to be sharing one once you are a little older. Out of the bed pup.” The dog whined again. Sam knew that he really had to name the dog. Nothing had seemed to fit him just yet so he had stuck to a couple of generic names.

Huffing, Sam picked up the pup and settled him down into his bed. The sad eyes that looked up at him were almost enough to cause him to break. Almost. He knew how big the pup was going to end up getting so he couldn't allow himself to be too soft. Once the pup was full size, he would probably end up taking up most of the bed from what Madison had told him to expect. The little ball of fluff huffed again but ultimately settled down, causing Sam to laugh.

"I know you don't wanna be in your bed. It's for the best though pup. We'll get you a nice big bed once you are done growing," he promised the puppy before moving back to the bed himself. He would have to talk to Madison more about training and what he could do to keep the pup off of the bed. That could come tomorrow. For now, he needed some more sleep.

***** The day started off quietly, something that he was thankful for as he ended up having to get up a few more times with the pup. He made his way to the office, eager to get himself some coffee. The pup was under one arm as he entered, immediately getting an aww coming from Maggie who was sitting at the counter.

He chuckled and was happy to hand the fifteen pounds over to her.

"You say that now. It isn't so cute when he keeps you up all night."

"Oh he can't be that bad, Sam." She scratched the pup behind the ears. "Maybe he is just grumpy and annoying you because you haven't given him a name." Sam nearly rolled his eyes, knowing that wasn't why the dog was acting up but restrained himself, deciding to humor Maggie instead.

"Yeah, I'm sure that's the reason. But he knows I'm getting around to it. Still trying to figure out what's going to fit him. Gotta know what his personality is going to be before he can find a name that works with him." Maggie laughed.

"You've had nearly 10 weeks Sam." He sipped his coffee, knowing that he was in a losing argument. She was right. He had more than ample time to find what worked and chose a name for his new companion. "You know he isn't going anywhere. He is firmly attached to you." He stiffened a little when the last bit came from Maggie. Subconsciously had he been worried about that? It wasn't something he wanted to devote a lot of thought to at the moment. There were plenty of other things that needed his attention.

"You mind watching him? I gotta go replace the window in 120." Maggie shook her head.

"Not at all. Though I'm sure he would end up sticking at your side. Maybe you could even train him to grab you tools. He seems like he would be smart enough for it. I mean he already knows a few commands, sit and stay." That wasn't something he had thought about either.

"Yeah, I guess I could talk to Madison about that. Ain't a half bad idea."

"Nope. Because it's mine," she teased. Sam chuckled and shook his head.

"Yeah, yeah. You got all the brains here. Which is why you need to get to your homework," he pointed out, a smile now on his face. The pup was content in her arms, yawning even though he had just gotten up. "And it seems like he might be too lazy for that sort of thing. He just got up and he's ready for a nap."

"Don't listen to him. I'm sure you will be a fantastic helper." Sam chuckled again before heading out to get to work on replacing the window. The pup was in trusted hands for now.

He was half way through getting the window installed when Maggie came out to him. The pup was with her, trotting alongside her but his ears were pinned back. Something was wrong. He brushed his hands against his jeans and turned to give her his full attention.

"What's wrong?"

"There's a guy giving me a hard time. Doesn't want to give the deposit up front. You mind coming and talking to him?" Sam nodded, setting down his tools. He may not have liked confrontation but he wasn't going to let anyone give Maggie a hard time.

"Yeah, yeah. Of course. Come on." He motioned for her to follow as he moved back towards the office. The pup stayed right between them, trotting along.

The man was still standing at the counter and he looked displeased. Sam sighed softly before making his way behind it, Maggie behind him and out of the line of fire for now. Just how he wanted it really.

"What seems to be the problem sir?" The pup sat at the door as if to guard it. Sam glanced at him for a moment before turning his attention back to the customer.

"You need some better help at the front desk. This one was asking for a deposit ahead of time, in a place like this." Sam bit the inside of his cheek to be able to keep his composure.

"Sir, that is the policy for any guest. You'll find most motels and hotels in this area request a deposit up front, especially if you are looking to stay two weeks." The man just seemed to grow more agitated.

"You have to be kidding me."

"You don't have to stay. You are more than welcome to find some other place to rent for however long you need. We don't need your business if that's how you are gonna act," Sam told the man, firmly without being nasty. It was the truth. He wasn't going to find many other places to stay but he wasn't going to fight with the man either. It was going to go down how he wanted, not the jerk standing in front of him.

"Whatever. I'll just take my business elsewhere then." The man moved to the door, picking up the pup to move him. Sam immediately tensed. The pup actually growled before throwing his head around, smacking the man hard in the nose. "Fuck!" It wasn't enough to break it but that had to hurt, judging by the watering eyes. Sam immediately strode forward and took the pup from the man.

"Don't touch my dog again," he warned, seeing the look on the man's face. "Now leave." The pup was still disgruntled in his arms but at least was calming down now. The man didn't say another word as he stormed out of the office and headed for his car. Sam looked down at the pup and found himself smiling.

"Well, I think we found a proper name for him." Maggie moved over to check on him to make sure he was okay.

"And what's that?" She asked as she reached out to pet the puppy's head.

"Slinger." Maggie cocked her head to the side.

"What's that mean?" She had a feeling there was something behind it.

"It's what a bull was called who bucked his head and tried to smash a rider with it or his horns." Maggie laughed and Sam couldn’t keep the smile off of his face.

"I guess that fits after that little display. What do you think, Slinger?" The puppy barked, his tail going even as Sam held him. "I think he likes it."

"It's settled then. His name is officially Slinger." He scratched Slinger behind the ear and found himself smiling despite the confrontation that they just had. It seemed like Slinger was really there to stay now that he had his name and Sam found himself not minding at all.

[tainted-wine]

Just a Demonstration

Present Mic x Reader (NSFW)

(Honestly, I just wanted to write Hizashi with some bi energy. I apologize for the other 90% of this small fic)

Words: 1.9k

Warnings: More slang words for ‘penis’ than you can shake a dick stick at. Reader’s thirst levels are highly advanced.

———————————————–

Hizashi’s cock was a sacred rod that deserved to be worshiped for every minute of the day. The very sight of it never fails to make your pussy pulse as rapidly as your excited heartbeat. It didn’t even matter whether he was still tucked in beneath the wrinkles of his foreskin, or if he was already proudly hanging and swinging about—that meaty sausage should always be ready for the market that is your mouth.

So the moment you saw him strut out of the shower and make the mistake of displaying his bare crotch, you knew that you only had one option: cancel your hangout with your dear friend and charm this man’s snake. Your friend was thankfully understanding through her texts.

BFF: Hey gurl! Ready for our shopping trip at the plaza?

You: Sorry, but I won’t be able to go today. I need to suck my boyfriend’s dick for a really long time.

BFF: Alright, that’s ok. See ya!

Hizashi was stammering in confusion when you forcefully guided him onto the bed, shushing him with a finger over his lips once he was on his back. You immediately went to work by kissing the fresh and clean member, coaxing its head to slowly peek out from the slow strokes of your hand. The downside to blowing him right after a shower was that his distinctive musky scent was mostly absent, but you’ll survive without it.

The voice hero watched you with a nervous smile, his body still damp since you didn’t even give him a chance to properly dry off. “Baby, I ain’t complaining, but your undying love for my dick kinda scares me sometimes,” he admitted.

You just looked up at him with a small grin of your own, hand continuing to jerk him. Scared or not, his growing length betrayed his arousal. Besides, it wasn’t your fault that his throbber was a specimen of perfection.

Your tongue moves smoothly across the skin, his veins becoming more prominent with every hardening twitch. So badly did you just want to take it all and suck him up right away, but this precious shaft should be cherished like a gourmet popsicle, not wolfed down like an unsavory snack. You went down to give firm licks to the sensitive space between his cock and balls, earning a shaky moan from the man. You make out with that small area as your hand lubricates him with his own gushes of precum.

“Fuck, baby. I wasn’t ready for you to go to town on me like this,” you hear him groan.

‘And I wasn’t ready for you to present your cock like it’s fuckin’ Christmas. I guess we’re both getting surprises today.’ Your answer doesn’t leave your head, your mouth too busy for silly quips at the moment. With his dick now standing proudly at its full height, you journey back to the top with a long lick, giving his swollen tip a modest peck.

You couldn’t wait any longer. This premium meat deserved more care and attention, but you felt like a starving barbarian with little time to spare.

You felt his thighs tense under your palm when you begin to take him in. Inch by inch he disappears behind your lips, the weight of him on your tongue prompting you to press your thighs together from the growing heat in your core. Hizashi never holds back his moans, always expressing his pleasure and approval with no shame. You listen to the loud yet pleasing vocals as you welcome more of him into your mouth.

Yes…this is where you belong. This is where you were happiest: giving his divine dangler free real estate in your mouth, like a humid cave that also served as a shrine. Every centimeter should be taken into your warm cavern, to use your tongue as a damp bed…

A gag and coughing fit are triggered by the sting of his cock hitting the back of your throat. You’re forced to pull away as your body convulses, feeling a soothing hand rubbing circles on your back while your coughs slow down.

Dammit…goddammit. Why must your sensitive throat fail you each time?

“Easy there, baby. Don’t hurt yourself,” you heard Hizashi comfort you as you held your face in shame and frustration.

“I just…” You sobbed. “I just want your dick down my throat.”

“I know, sweetie. No one is as dedicated to playing the flesh flute as you are,” he laughed.

You were very dedicated, but deepthroating was a method of willy worship that you just couldn’t master, and it enraged you. Tears were streaming down your face before you could even think of stopping them.

“Hey hey!” Hizashi panicked and wiped your tears with a careful thumb. “Don’t stress! Trust me, I love everything your mouth does, if my hard buddy here is anything to go by.”

You turned away from his gentle hand. “You don’t understand, Hizashi! You don’t understand the pressure that your 5-star schlong puts me under! The lengths I have to go to give it the proper treatment!” You cried harder from the mental weight given by his statuesque piece of phallic beauty.

He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “Well, I guess not. Didn’t know my junk was putting you through so much pressure.” He glanced down at his shrinking erection. Fuck, look what you’ve done—all you did was waste the mighty one-eyed serpent’s time, and now it was retreating back into its fleshy sanctum. Shame on you.

But the blonde wasn’t done. “If it’ll perk you up, maybe I can help you out? Ya know, a couple of tips from one mouth-meister to another?”

You sniffed and looked up at him in confusion, his sweet smile still bright and clear through your watery eyes. “You…?”

“What, did you forget who I am, baby? I’m a licensed professional in handling the love pistol! I’ll teach you everything you need to know about gobblin’ like it’s Thanksgiving!”

You agreed to his help and watched him search through your shared drawers until he found your private toy. A dildo—splendidly crafted by sculptors who clearly take pride in their work—but you’ve had little need for it lately. Ever since this man came into your life, you’ve realized just how much of an imposter that piece of silicone is, and it was hard to feel any pleasure now that you know of its lies.

Still, you pushed aside your bitter memories as Hizashi settled back down on the bed with your dildo in hand.

He began his lecture. “I know dick is awesome and you wanna get that baby in your mouth right away, but you gotta take it slow, alright? Especially with a tonsil tickler like this one! Keep that throat relaxed and one day you’ll be gag reflex-free like me!”

He goes on. Your frustration is still strong as you try to listen to his advice, but those woeful feelings fizzed out the moment the toy’s head slipped past Hizashi’s lips. His eyes drift close while the shaft smoothly moves into his mouth, his breaths audibly blowing through his nose. Your old companion is a pretty long boy—eight inches long—but Hizashi was taking it easily and calmly, and his bulging throat was possibly the second most enticing thing to look at, topped only by the returning stiffy between his legs.

With a satisfied moan, the entirety of the length rested in his gullet, the textured balls acting like a cork to his lips.

What a fucking sight to behold, one that makes you gush from below.

He pulls the cock out just as slowly, the fake flesh glistening with his saliva. Once it was only the tip still sitting behind his lips, he pushed it all back in. Rinse and repeat, with a slowly increasing pace. You watched in awe at the skill you imagined having in your dreams, the ones where you stuff your windpipe with his firm lovetube without the worry of any limitations.

The wet sloshes and glugs sound ridiculously lewd, and he only adds to the vulgar medley with his deep moans. It’s when his free hand moves to start stroking himself that you begin to wonder if he forgot that you were here.

There’s no way you’re going to make him pleasure himself in your presence. You move his hand aside and apply your softer ones to his twitching manhood, moving at the same pace that he left off. Hizashi gave a loud moan of gratitude as he continued his enthusiastic sucking. You wanted so badly to put your own mouth to work, to put his advice to the test, but you couldn’t tear your eyes away from the erotic spectacle. It was insane; you didn’t think that anything could possibly distract you from his divine cockcalibur, but here you were discovering something more amazing than even that.

It should have been obvious, really. His mouth and golden tongue have sent you to heights you never would have reached on your own, whether it be from tangling with your own pink muscle, tasting every inch of your skin, or gorging himself on your womanly juices. Of course he also knew how to take a dick with skill that would make a pornstar green with envy.

You feel him tensing again. He’s getting close, and his noises were only getting louder and dirtier. You tried to match the speed of your pumps with the ones in his mouth, cocking his cum gun in preparation for the incoming eruption. The hero’s pleasure has you too excited; your other fingers begin to rub frantic circles around your clit.

Your sharp breaths join his moans as you work to bring both of you to your climaxes. For you, it’s the drool leaking down his chin that does you in. For him, it’s your dreamy wails of pleasure and the tightened grip on his cock.

The two of you tremble from your intense orgasms, Hizashi plunging the dildo balls deep into his throat again, as if it had its own seed to release into his body. Hot waves of bliss wash over you while Hizashi’s essence spurts onto your hand.

The sex toy is yanked out of his mouth with a loud raunchy sound that was both a moan and a choked gasp, several strands of saliva connecting his lips to the ends of the lucky pleasuring device. Strong shoulders lifted with each heavy breath as he regained his focus and turned to you.

“Fuck, I miss that,” he rasped while wiping at his mouth.

You answered with a shaky breath, watching him lick his reddened lips. “You’re…you’re amazing at that.”

He gave a laugh that devolved into a cough. Sounds like the rough deepthroating didn’t leave him as unscathed as he was letting on. “Thanks, babe. Sorry that I got a little lost in the moment. Just realized how long it’s been since someone’s gone wild with my mouth.”

Even after cumming, your face heats up at his comment. You couldn’t exactly provide him with that, not without a wanky wanger wienerschnitzel of your own.

“Say, you ever considered a strap-on, sweetheart?”

Oh?

“I’m just sayin’, the reason I was so into it...” He leans in to give you a wet kiss before moving right next to your ear. “...is because I was imagining it was you fucking my face.”

Your insatiable pussy throbs again as you smile.

Perhaps Hizashi’s cock isn’t the most blessed part of his body.

[wakeup-anxiety-repeat]

Hibachi (modern! AU)

Childe x Zhongli

Genshin Impact

~

It was another Friday night. The streets of Liyue were busy, but they often were during the weekends. Zhongli stared out his apartment window at the crowded streets, the loud noises of car horns and people piercing the usual silence of his apartment. He brought his cup of black coffee up to his lips and took a sip, finishing the last of what was left. Moving to a couch on the other side of the room, Zhongli mindlessly picked up his phone, the screen flashing on to show a picture of him and a certain Harbinger he had found himself enamored with.

‘Friday… Is he finished with work?’ Zhongli pondered to himself, ultimately deciding to unlock his phone and send a quick text to said Harbinger, asking if he had. After sending it, Zhongli took a moment to gaze at the profile picture of the person he was texting, a selfie that they had taken as a joke. It didn't take long for a response to arrive, confirming the Harbinger was out of work and, all of the sudden, on his way over to Zhongli’s apartment. There was barely a wait between receiving the text and hearing a knock on his door. Standing up, Zhongli walked over, looked through the small glass window, and opened the door. “Childe.”

“What’s up? You didn’t have work today?”

“I did not.”

“Your schedule is weird, you know.”

“Hm.” Childe lazily walked over the couch and flopped down on it as Zhongli closed and locked the door.

“You know, Mr. Zhongli-”

“Zhongli.”

“Huh?”

“...Without the Mr., if you don’t mind.”

“Alright, sure. Anyway…” There was a slight pause as Childe processed what Zhongli had said before continuing, “I like where I work, I really do,” Childe flipped over to lay on his stomach, laying his head on top of his arms that rested on the armrest of the couch (it wasn’t really that comfortable in his opinion, but he did it anyway), “but even I get tired sometimes, you know?” Zhongli walked over to where Childe was.

“Do you mind if I sit?” Childe once again shifted his position.

“This is your place, you don't have to ask me.” He sat down next to Childe and Childe laid his head on Zhongli’s shoulder.

“Are you hungry?”

“I could eat. Are you hungry?”

“Somewhat.”

“Where’re you thinking?”

“If I remember correctly, a Hibachi place opened up near here recently. My treat.” Childe tiredly laughed.

“You say that like money is the issue here. But sure. That sounds good right about now.” Standing up and stretching, his shoulders giving off a satisfying ‘pop’, Childe turned to face Zhongli. “Lead the way.” One short walk later in the mildly cold temperature accompanied by small talk and they were standing in front of the new restaurant.

“That didn’t take as long as I thought it would.”

“How long did you think it would take?”

“Um… Longer than it did...?”

Zhongli shook his head and once again looked at the restaurant. “Were we supposed to make a reservation or something of that sort?”

“I… dunno.”

“It doesn’t look very crowded.”

“Well, time to find out.”

The two walked in and, after a short talk with the person at the counter who happened to recognize Childe, they had their own table in an area with no other people.

“Word of your influence travels fast.”

“Haha! I don’t have that much influence! I owe it to the boss!”

“She does have quite the amount of power, and not just around this area either.”

“Gotta say, it’s kinda convenient sometimes. So, what’re you thinking of getting?”

Zhongli held up the menu and scanned it. “Perhaps the shrimp or the steak. You?”

“Hm… the steak does sound good… Why not get both?”

Zhongli nodded. “Perhaps that would be best.”

There was a slight pause before Childe waved over a server; the two placed their orders and they were told the chef would be there shortly.

“I’ve never really known what people see in getting their food made in front of them. What about it do they enjoy so much?”

“Perhaps the spectacle. The chefs make the food in an artistic way, I believe.”

“You believe? You’ve never been to a Hibachi before?”

Childe’s surprise was evident on his face. Zhongli had been alive for so long, how had he- ‘Forget it,’ he thought, shaking his head, as if to get rid of said thought. The noise of a rolling cart drew their attention and Childe watched as the man pulled in in front of the stove that was in front of the two men. Childe continued talking to Zhongli, paying him no mind.

“How have you never been to a Hibachi before?”

“It never crossed my mind to go to one.”

“But,” Childe waved off the chef who was going to pour some concoction called “sauce” into two small dishes, and the man put the dishes away. “Somehow you knew that the food here was good.”

“Have you been to one?”

“I have.”

“Yet you also did not know whether or not to place a reservation.”

“I usually don’t, and I wasn't sure if being with another person made a difference.”

“I suppose it did not.”

Zhongli cast a quick glance to the chef, who wore a slightly miffed expression on his face as he made the food, seemingly upset at being ignored. Childe turned to face the man. “Something wrong?”

“N-No! Not at all!” the chef had seemed to recognize Childe in that moment, his expression quickly shifting. There were a few minutes of silence as the two men watched their food get cooked and served to them for a bit before resuming their conversation, uninterested in the display.

“So how did you know that the food here was good anyway?”

“I was informed by Ningguang that this type of place was good on multiple occasions. She seems to go to this type of restaurant often, and was the one who informed me that there was one opening near my residence.”

The chef placed the last of the food onto the two men’s plates and bowed, uttering a “Thank you” and quickly walking away. Childe’s gaze scrutinized him as he left.

“You know, I don’t think we should tip him.”

Zhongli chuckled and began to eat his food before making a remark.

“I believe I see where you were coming from earlier.”

“Hm?” Childe fumbled with his chopsticks, attempting to pick up some fried rice. He let out a quiet cheer upon success, sending a mock glare towards the spoon and fork sitting on the napkin next to him.

“On why people found this interesting. I fail to see why as well. It was… not as artistic as I thought it would be.”

“Well, I did tell you I didn't know why! My point,” Childe lifted up the small cup of green tea he had ordered earlier and took a sip, “has been proven.”

Zhongli nodded and looked at his plate of food, continuing to eat.

“But wouldn’t Ningguang have informed you that the display was uninteresting?” Childe moved to stab something with his chopsticks until Zhongli took them out of his hand and replaced them with a fork.

“You could at least try to convince me you really were practicing by using the proper etiquette.”

Childe pouted before Zhongli continued.

“Ningguang most likely does not pay attention to such things. She is more interested than the cuisine than any spectacle that may come with it.”

At this point, the two were nearly done with their meals, but both felt as though they had eaten enough.

“Should we ask for takeout boxes? We could take the leftovers with us.”

Childe nodded and, once again, waved over a server. He casually asked for two boxes and the check, which arrived swiftly. Childe reached to grab the book that held the check when Zhongli grabbed it from right in front of him.

“I told you it would be my treat, did I not?”

“And here I had thought you forgot and I would be able to treat you.”

“You do that enough already, I believe.”

Childe laughed lightly but made no attempt to argue. After quickly paying, the two men were out the ornate glass doors and back outside.

“So. Do we head to your place or mine?”

“Considering that we would have to walk a much farther distance to reach your place, I propose we return to my apartment.”

“Alrighty then, shall we?”

“Indeed.”

It wasn't long before the two found themselves standing in front of the lightly painted door, Zhongli, once again, remarking on how it was still chilly out. The cold only got worse as it got later in the night. Zhongli fished the key out of his pocket, then unlocked and opened the door while Childe grabbed his leftovers and moved to put them in the fridge.

“Should I assume that means you will be staying over today?”

“I dunno. Should you?” Childe walked out of the small kitchen and over to where Zhongli was standing, once again in front of the window that overlooked Liyue. He rested his head on Zhongli’s shoulder.

“Do you miss how it used to be?”

Zhongli quietly sighed. “Part of me does, and part of me does not. While I am happy to see how much this place has changed without my guidance, there is a piece of me that wished they still looked to me for such things.”

“If you could, would you go back to that time?”

“Hm…?”

“That time where the people looked to you for guidance.”

Zhongli chuckled and moved away from the window to sit on the couch. “I would not.”

Childe tilted his head as if to question Zhongli’s response.

“There are things that I would miss if I were to go back to that time.”

“Oh? And what would those be?”

“That is something for me to know.”

“What?! You’re no fun!” Childe moved to sit next to Zhongli. “Tell meeeeeeeeeee!”

“I will not.”

“Come on! Why not?!”

Zhongli simply laughed and shook his head.

“You really are no fun,” Childe pouted, an upset look on his usually cheery face. Zhongli looked at him and smiled.

“You might not agree with my reasons if I told you.”

“What makes you think that?”

“Because my reason… is sitting right next to me.”

Childe paused to process Zhongli’s words, a light blush rising to his face. “That’s… That’s a bit… cliché, don’t you think?”

Zhongli smiled once again. “Yes, but it is the truth.”

[victorluvsalice]

-->Oh, they got their fair share of the love, don’t worry. Having shared some kisses with Alice, Victor gave her the salmon he’d caught so she could grill it up and eat it (girl was feeling the hunger -- and the stink, as you can see; fortunate the public bathrooms in the forest also include showers!), then went inside to play chess with Smiler, who favored him with a serenade (after kicking his butt). This led to embraces, kisses --

-->And selfies! And THIS is where I discovered all the fun goofy poses that Sims can pull in selfies thanks to Moschino Stuff adding all those emotional poses. XD I wish I could have shown you more of them (especially the sillier poses), but I was using filters to brighten up some of these, and those basically bleach out the damn screenshots, unfortunately. But these I feel are a good selection -- Victor and Smiler took theirs at the “station” in the forest, while Alice and Smiler and Victor and Alice took theirs at the cabin. Gotta experiment with these and photography in general more!

-->Anyway, yes, as the darkness and the clouds set in again, the gang headed home to chill out. Victor caught some zzzs, while Alice indulged in some beastly boogies and howled her way to another ability point -- I had her pick up the Somber Howl, which will allow her to occasionally lower her Fury in exchange for a sad moodlet. Good for preventing more rampages! And Smiler did some more fishing, using Baconite to catch a bass and a perch they caught to then grab a trout or two. It’s all good plasma packs!

And that is the second day of their camping vacation sorted! Next time, the third and final day -- with more rain, sadly, but also a few more adventures! See you then!

[spinbitchzu]

citrus kisses

Darling, you don’t need to say what you mean, ‘cause your kisses taste like tangerines. Aka: cole’s love language is tart and sweet and reminds Kai of things he thought he’d lost. 

hey uhhh so. I don’t write ninjago fic often but apparently when i do, it’s about the inherent romanticism of peeling an orange and also action-oriented love languages. anyway you know the drill. lavashipping, a bit over 2k words. unbeta’d bc we die like men. 

The oranges that grew in Ignacia grew in huge groves.

It’s one of Kai’s only memories with his whole family: walking between his parents in the long aisles stretching between the lines of trees, Nya’s tiny, chubby hand clasped carefully in his own as she toddled along beside him. The smell of oranges was everywhere, and that day they picked enough to last them for weeks and weeks. 

He can still recall his dad’s hands braced around his ribs as he hoisted Kai up to pick a Valencia orange bigger than his head from a high branch, eyes squinting against the bright sun on his face. He’d felt such pride that day, as he carried his treasure around for all to see.

He remembers summers of frothy fresh-squeezed orange juice in the morning, afternoons of fragrant orange cake, and evenings of carefully-partitioned segments that exploded juice on his tongue. His mom used to make ambrosia for Saturday morning breakfast, the orange slices piled high with coconut shavings and thick, fluffy whipped cream. She’d scold him when he peeled the oranges himself; his forceful little thumbs always dug too far into the flesh and sent the juice squirting everywhere. Instead, she clucked her tongue and peeled it for him with easy, deft movements while he sucked the stickiness off his fingers.

Those days—patchworks of hot nights and sunshine through the kitchen windows and the smell of citrus on his mother as she leaned in to kiss him goodnight—they’re days Kai can hardly remember the older he gets. 

After his parents disappeared, no one took Kai and Nya to the Valencia groves; no one whipped the cream for ambrosia; no one lifted him to the highest branches for the best oranges. He simply had to wait until he was tall enough to reach them himself.

He doesn’t think about those memories very often, and Nya was so young, he doubts she remembers it at all. It’s not like he ever gets a summer off to return home either, so instead he lets the memory fade until it’s almost entirely forgotten. He locks it in the part of his brain that he’s sectioned off because it’s too painful to keep clinging to when things were that good. It’s okay. 

The past tastes like oranges and coconut cream, and Kai has left it behind.

...

Kai forgets why they’re making a stop over Ignacia, but it just so happens that the nearest rural area place for them to moor is over the Valencia groves he had nearly forgotten about. 

He stands at the front of the ship, leaning over the railing with his chin propped up on his pillowed arms to study the trees extending in every direction, the dark leaves bejewelled with not-quite-ripe January oranges. The sun overhead is more of a pale, cold disk, and Nya is somewhere below-deck, but it makes him melancholy anyway.

Footsteps approach from behind him—heavy but soft: Cole. He leans over the railing beside Kai, bracing his forearms against the wood as he surveys the landscape. “Hey. Whatcha doin’ out here, stranger?”

“Just lookin’,” he murmurs back. He hums to himself. “Did you know I used to come to this grove with my family as a kid?”

“I didn’t even know you liked oranges,” Cole replies, giving him a sideways glance. He smiles when Kai glances back, dark eyes crinkling. “Do you want to go down now? I’m sure we could grab a few and no one would miss ‘em.”

“Nah, that’s alright,” Kai says with half a grin. “They’re not ripe. And I don’t like oranges that much anyway. Too hard to peel. They just made me think about—things I hadn’t let myself think about for a while.”

“What kind of things?” Cole asks, nudging him with an elbow.

The touch grounds him and he’s grateful for it. He shrugs in a way that’s neither here nor there. “Just things. Home, I guess. My life? Before all the...ninja stuff.”

“Is that a good thing?” Cole tilts his head. In this light, his eyes turn from obsidian to sunlight through whiskey as he waits for an answer.

Kai makes a contemplative noise. “I don’t know. Hurts less than I expected, after everything. It’s bittersweet.” He sighs then, shoulders falling with the motion. “It really is making me miss oranges, though. I don’t know why I lied before—I really do like them.”

He looks back at the groves below and misses the look Cole gives him—measured and curious.

“What about you, do you like oranges?”

“Some. The sweet ones.”

“You’d like these ones, then,” Kai tells him, cheeks rising as he smiles. “The oranges from Ignacia are the biggest, sweetest ones around. They’re good just by themselves, but my mom made a mean ambrosia with them.”

“I bet Zane could replicate the recipe if you told him what it was,” Cole replies.

Kai just shrugs. “Maybe so. He’s sharp like that.”

They fall silent. Kai can physically feel Cole worrying about him and his rare bout of melancholy, so he squares his shoulders and musters up a grin. “Hey, Cole, you—,”

“You don’t have to,” is what Cole interrupts him with, paired with a weighted look that settles around him like a blanket. “I don’t mind the quiet. You’re allowed to, Kai.”

All the feigned bravado drains out of him. Kai stares at him for a second and wonders when Cole got so good at gauging his moods. There’s so many words unspoken inbetween what he says and that earnest, draping look in his eyes and Kai kind of aches with it.

“Okay,” he says instead, shoulders slowly falling. His chin dips to rest on his crossed forearms again and he leans into it when Cole slips as arm around him. “Okay.”

The nippy January wind dances around them, stirring their hair and whipping at their gis, but Kai tips his head against Cole’s shoulder and feels warm down to his toes.

...

“Holy crap, what the hell did you do?” Kai can’t help asking a week later, as Lloyd and Zane walk into the kitchen carrying groceries.

“There was a sale on tangerines at the grocery store,” Zane answers primly, setting his paper bag on the counter. “I thought it prudent to take advantage of it.”

“We have like a hundred pounds of these things,” Lloyd adds, setting his own bag down. “We’re going to be eating tangerines until we get old and grey.”

“Zane, man, you know I love a sale as much as the next guy, but this is a little overboard,” Cole says as he comes in, two more bags of tangerines hoisted on his shoulders. Kai does not stare, thank you very much, as much as he’s been finding it kind of hard to avoid when it comes to Cole and lifting things recently.

“Proper intake of vitamin C is important in preventing scurvy,” Zane replies, though he’s blinking the way he does when he’s getting embarrassed. “It’s a common illness in sailors.”

“Does that still apply  if the ship can fly?” Lloyd wonders.

“Or if we’re in the twenty-first century?” Kai adds wryly, eyebrows high.

“I’m sure we’ll find some way to finish them all,” Cole pipes up. “Don’t worry about it, Zane.”

“I was not.” Zane turns away to put away the rest of the groceries while Kai and Cole exchange an amused look. As he bustles back and forth, Kai grabs a tangerine from the bag behind him and turns it over in his hands, studying the way the light catches on the dimpled rind.

“Hey,” Kai says quietly, leaning across the kitchen counter. “Did you do this?”

Cole just shrugs with a crooked grin. “I didn’t do anything. You know Zane and sales. Can’t resist ‘em.”

“You did,” Kai deduces, eyeing his teammate’s reddening ears. He feels his expression soften. “You didn’t have to.”

“Maybe I wanted to,” Cole says in response. He reaches over Kai, coming very, very close, until their noses are close enough to brush. His eyes are very dark and very close and Kai would very much like to kiss him right now.

“Um, uh,” Kai says, very eloquently.

“Not in the kitchen, please,” Zane calls from the pantry, because he hasn’t a romantic bone in his body (or any bones, to be fair to him).

Cole just grins and pulls back, displaying the tangerine he’d grabbed from behind Kai with a flourish. “I’m heading to the training deck. See you around, Hot Stuff.”

“R-right,” he mumbles (like an idiot), fighting the heat settled in his cheeks. He watches Cole go and feels distinctly like an opportunity has sailed over his head.

...

Cole smells like oranges these days.

Kai only notices because that isn’t his normal smell, which is much more organic soaps and something earthy and fresh. It’s a smell that clings to the hoodies Kai keeps pilfering from his closet—comforting in its familiarity. 

The abrupt invasion of tangy citrus makes him do a double take the first time he smells it. And then he reaches into the pocket of the hoodie and finds a tangerine. It’s store bought, with a little sticker on the side, and it’s not exactly a strange sight for any reason, but it sort of confounds him.

“Hey,” he says, walking into the kitchen, the object of confusion held gingerly in his hand. “Is this a tangerine?”

Cole looks up from where he’s making a sandwich and raises an eyebrow. “Is that my hoodie?”

“I asked first,” Kai replies quickly, before he has time to pink up.

“I mean, yeah, five points for powers of deduction,” Cole says cheekily. “Congratulations, it’s a tangerine. We gotta finish them somehow, don’t we?”

“I—yeah,” Kai says absently. Cole holds out a hand for it and he tosses it over wordlessly, before he even thinks too much about it.

“You said they’re hard to peel, right?” Cole asks, digging his nails into the rind. He peels it in the shape of a flower and then splits the orange in half with his thumbs to hold out to Kai. “Here.”

Kai looks down at the segment being offered to him in an open palm and then back at Cole with his earnest, crinkly-eyed smile, and feels something stutter fatally in his chest.

“Thanks,” he manages to say, as his heart cracks open to let sunshine stream all in, filling his ribcage with warmth.

He bites into the fruit and feels his mouth fill with juice and thinks about how his mother used to peel oranges when he was too clumsy to and then about how Cole leaves tangerines in the pockets of the hoodies he knows Kai will steal and peels them for him in the shape of a flower, even though it turns his nails all yellow. He thinks of it so hard he forgets to make a face that doesn’t show about seven years of adoration on it and when he looks back at Cole, he’s already looking back with realization blazing across his expression.

“Kai?” he asks, voice wavering as his throat bobs with his nervous gulp.

“Yeah,” he agrees, and then grabs Cole by the collar of his shirt and kisses him, soft and open-mouthed, across the kitchen island. He’s so filled up with sweet oranges and sunlight and the heat of Cole’s skin that he forgets to even be afraid of this, as much as it’s frightened him in his fantasies. He stops being afraid of it altogether when Cole sighs into his mouth and cards a hand through his hair.

When they finally draw back, Cole’s pupils are blown huge and dark and he’s looking distinctly Kissed with a capital K. Kai would very much like to continue that endeavor.

“You taste like oranges,” Cole chuckles as he tugs Kai around the island to pull him closer.

You taste like home, he wants to say, but then Cole leans over him to cup his jaw and kiss him breathless, and Kai decides to let it go unspoken. There are more important things to attend to.

…

In the early summer, Cole and Kai negotiate with the others for a three-day vacation in early June. They drive in a rented car to the Valencia grove outside Ignacia and pick enough oranges to last the ship for weeks. Cole boosts him on his shoulders to help him reach the huge oranges at the tree tops and they laugh the whole time, chasing each other through the orchard and trading citrus kisses. Kai wonders if it’s possible to burst with happiness.

“I’m sick of eating oranges,” Lloyd complains when they come home bearing the (literal) fruits of their labor, newly sun-tanned and smiling.  

“Really?” Kai tilts his head, considering. “Seems to me like I can never get enough of ‘em.”

“Was that some sort of romantic metaphor?” Lloyd asks with a wrinkled nose. “Gross.”

Cole laughs from where he’s watching and sidles up from behind to rest his big hands on Kai’s hips. 

“Yeah,” Kai says affectionately. “Gross.”

“Not in the kitchen,” Zane calls from the next room, but Kai just leans back against Cole and closes his eyes to drink in the moment.

It’s worth it, he decides. All the fighting. All the losing. All the danger. It’s worth it to eat oranges in the kitchen with people he loves.

“What are you thinking about?” Cole teases, his voice rumbling low in his chest against Kai’s back.

“Nothing,” he says with a smile, opening his eyes. “I just love oranges.”

[chipper9906]

Third Times The Charm

WARNING: SPOILERS FOR CHAPTER 15 (Episode 03: The Rupture, Episode 09: The Trap

Pairings: Castiel/Dean Winchester

Rating: General Audiences

Word Count: 6,508

Status: One Shot - Complete

Chapter Preview: 

“Well… not… not that part,” Dean stutters out, taken aback by the fiery, spitting rage that Cas so rarely displays towards him. “If you’d just let me-,”

“No,” Castiel interrupts him, slowly rising back up with his duffel in hand. “You think you’re trying, Dean. You really do. But when it comes down to it, you’re not entirely ready to apologize to me. Not yet.” Dean couldn’t even get a word out as Cas reached into his trench-coat pocket before firmly planting something into his hand – something familiarly rectangular and thin in shape. “And even if you are… I’m certainly not ready to forgive.”

* * *

Three times Dean Winchesters attempts to "apologize" to Castiel. Except... This is Dean Winchester. Apologies aren't exactly his strong point.

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He knew he’d messed it all up the second the words left his mouth. And yet, in that moment of overboiling, long over-due anger spilling out, he simply didn’t have enough reasoning left to realize it.

So, he said it.

“Yeah, why does that something always seem to be you?”

Cas had looked at him like he had physically hit him. He might as well have. But through the seething rage he felt, he just didn’t care that he had hurt Cas. A part of him felt good about it. Vindicated. Because if he was hurting, then Cas should, too.

And maybe that’s why… that’s why he can’t take it back. It’s why he can’t just apologize, tell Cas that he didn’t mean it, that it was a moment where he wasn’t thinking right. And that right there was the problem. He had meant it. He had been thinking back to all those times, all those fuck ups that have happened in their lives, and there was no doubt that Cas was involved in a lot of them. Maybe it had been something clung to the back of his mind, building, and building until he was pushed over the edge.

But it didn’t matter. He had said it, and he couldn’t take it back. He couldn’t remove the pain he had inflicted on Cas.

And he still wasn’t sure if he wanted to.

But that was beside the point. They didn’t have time for this. They didn’t have time for petty silent treatments, and the boatload of therapy they probably needed. Mom was dead, Jack was dead, Rowena was dead, they had just barely averted yet another goddamn Apocalypse whilst simultaneously being thrown into another; this one with God himself out on a personal vendetta against them, and the entire friggen Universe, and goddammit, they didn’t have the time for Cas to go off sulking on his own!

So now that’s why he was sat here on the edge of the map table, phone in hand, staring glumly down at Cas’s name as it glowed back at him from the screen, thumb hovering just over his name. He didn’t have much faith that the call would even go through, considering the past twenty or so times he’s tried so far were sent straight to Cas’s voicemail. And not in a way that suggested his phone was off, or even that he was letting it ring out and not answering it. Dean knew that the few brief rings he heard before being cut off by Cas’s voicemail could only mean that the bastard saw Dean was calling and was rejecting the damn call.

Which is why, as he waited to be greeted by the same annoying voicemail message he’s listened to way too many times now, he’s caught by surprise when he’s instead greeted by the click of the call connecting, and the loud silence of Cas on the other end, not speaking.

“Cas? You there?”

Nothing but silence greets him. For a moment, the annoying part of him that still cares starts envisioning the worst scenarios. What if it wasn’t Cas? What if someone or something had killed him, and the killer wanted to know who the hell was stubborn enough to call someone twelve times in the span of around four minutes.

But no, it’s Cas that answers on the other end of the line with a very curt and unfriendly sounding, “What?”

Dean just about holds his tongue – pretty much has to bite down on it to stop himself from saying something he shouldn’t – and takes a deep, not at all calming breath. “Any reason you’ve been ignoring both mine and Sammy’s calls?”

“I think the answer to that question is fairly obvious,” Cas’s answer is scathing, dripping with levels of sarcasm that Dean didn’t think angels could even reach.

“Alright, fine. But couldn’t you at least answer Sammy’s calls? Or even just his messages?”

“No.”

Another deep breath, Winchester.

“And why’s that?” Dean gets out through gritted teeth, hearing his phone crack and groan in protest under his vice-like grip.

“Because I don’t want to.”

Turns out, that’s all he needed to be pushed over the edge again.

“Yeah? Well, Cas, funnily enough, you don’t always get what you want. Woulda’ thought you of all people would have learned that by now, with as much time you spend with us. And you know what? Now isn’t one of those times where you get what you want. Hell, what neither of us want. But we both know that the crap going down right now is bigger than what you, or me, or Sammy, or anyone wants. So how about we both put aside our hissy fits for the time being, get over our own damn egos, and you get your feathery ass back here and help us figure out how the hell we’re supposed to kill God?”

His voice has raised perhaps a little bit too much near the end there, so much that he felt like it was ringing in his ears for a while after he had stopped talking; perhaps even enough to drown out whatever it was that Cas decided to respond with. Except, Cas didn’t respond. Not for a while, anyway. Nothing but silence – in the form of crackling white noise – emitted from Dean’s speaker, stretching on long enough that he had to take his phone away from his ear and check the screen to see if the phone was still connected.

And then Cas laughed.

He’s pretty sure he can count on one hand the number of times he’s heard Cas laugh, and this one… was not a good one. There was some amusement in it, but mostly it just sounded tired. And… a little bit bordering on insane.

“Something funny?” Dean damn near growled down the phone.

Cas’s laughter faded away at that. “No. No, I suppose there isn’t.”

A single beep emitted from the speaker. Gone was the white noise. Gone was Cas’s voice.

Cas had hung up on him.

Dean takes another deep breath, one just as unsuccessful as the last few. He holds the phone limply in his closed fist, staring blankly out into the bunker before bringing his fist down hard on the table, barely resisting the urge to launch his “too expensive to keep breaking through rage or hunts” across the room.

“You stubborn son of a bitch,” Dean grits out, balancing his phone in his lap as he massages his now sore hand. “Just gotta make this complicated, don’t you…”

The idea pops into his head right then and there, jumping down from the table and settling into an actual seat. He pulls his laptop towards him, flipping open the top and getting to work. “Fine, Cas. You don’t wanna come back home? Then I’ll come to you…”

* * *

 There were a lot of things Dean thought Cas might be doing in some small town out in the middle of nowhere.

Well, not a lot of things. Actually… Dean had no idea. The last time Cas went off on his own – admittedly, not of his fault – he had gone and tried to be a proper citizen of America with his own degrading, low-paying, soul-sucking retail job. He supposed that was a possibility, but, he doubted it. Most of the time, Cas is… well, with him, Dean supposed. Helping him and Sam with whatever big ugly had decided to rear its head for the year. Cas didn’t really get much free time, didn’t have much time for hobbies (neither did he unless you counted drinking and porn watching, but whatever), so of all the things he expected for Cas to be doing…

Fishing certainly wasn’t one of them.

Cas had managed to find himself a nice little dock to fish off as well. A cozy, hidden spot within the reeds, far out enough from civilization that Dean actually had to hike out here to find him. Admittedly, he was a little pissed to have to leave Baby behind and hike for four friggen hours in the heat whilst swiping away blood-sucking mosquitos, but it wasn’t like he had much of a choice.

There was a single fishing rod cast out into the water, its little neon orange bobber oddly still despite drifting amidst the gentle waves created by the evening’s wind as it blew across the surface of the water. Strangely, there was an honest to God boom-box sat next to Cas, which would have undoubtedly scared away any fish in the area if it was playing music. Which… it wasn’t. Even from the other end of the dock, Dean could see the tape holder was open and empty.

Dean stands there long enough to see the little bobber start bobbing in the water, flicking left and right as fish nibble on its bait. It’s not long after that the lure disappears completely, sinking below the surface of the water and into its murky depths as a fish takes the bait. But… Cas doesn’t react. In fact, he hadn’t even been looking at the lure. He must have been holding something in his hands - what exactly that is, Dean can’t see from here – as he can tell from Cas’s hunched posture that this mysterious object must be whatever had won Cas’s attention over his bait being taken.

“You know, you’re actually supposed to catch the fish when fishing. I get that it’s supposed to be relaxing, but… you could at least try to catch something when it’s on the end of your hook.”

Cas doesn’t jump or startle at his voice, much to Dean’s secret displeasure. Hell, he wouldn’t be surprised if Cas somehow sensed his presence. Maybe he could smell his scent or something. Hear his heartbeat. Feel his soul. Something like that.

What he does do is sigh. Loudly. Loud enough for Dean to hear from all the way over here, which kinda hurts if he’s being honest. That being said, he does put away whatever he was holding into his coat’s pocket and picks up the rod at Dean’s words and hooks the fish, reeling it in like he’s done it a hundred times before.

“I thought I’d give it a try. Perhaps make some sense of my thoughts,” Cas says without looking back at him, keeping his gaze fixated on the water ahead. “Try and see why so many are invested in this past time. I suppose maybe it’d be different if I was human, but… I just don’t get quite the same satisfaction.” It seems that, in a blink of an eye, Cas has the fish reeled in and dangling in the air in front of him. He gets the hook out of its mouth just as quick, looking down to the decent-sized carp he held in his hands. “What is it about fishing that makes it so worthwhile to humans? Is it the struggle of trying to reel it in? The sense of satisfaction you get out of pulling this creature from its habitat? Some feeling of power, a superiority, that you’ve outsmarted and outmuscled a lesser being than yourself?”

“Uh… I’m not much one for philosophical debates, Cas,” Dean looks to Cas wide-eyed, taking a few cautious steps onto the dock and towards him. “I just find it relaxing, I suppose. Bobby used to take me and Sammy out a few times when dad was off on hunts. We wouldn’t talk about dad, or where he’d be taking us once he got back - - if he got back. It was nice to just sit out in the sun, Bobby and Sam next to me and… get to feel some sense of peace that I haven’t felt since I was four.”

Castiel only hums at that, gently lowering the fish back down into the water and letting it swim away. “How did you find me?”

Dean steps even closer. “Sammy put a tracker on your phone a long time ago, bud. Can never be too careful.”

“Sam did?” Cas said, sounding genuinely surprised. The first bit of emotion Dean had heard slip into his voice.

“Yeah. I actually argued with him over it, believe it or not,” Dean shoves his hands into his jacket pockets, keeping a small amount of space between him and Cas. “Guess it turned out useful…”

Cas was still refusing to look at him, which was all kinds of frustrating. “When did…”

“Not long after you came back from… y’know… the Empty,” Dean gets out. “But, uh… he brought it up after you knocked us out with your mojo and ran off with Kelly against our wishes.”

Cas tenses up at that, carelessly tossing his fishing rod to the floor next to him and finally, finally, standing up from the edge of the dock and turning to face Dean. “And if I’d have gone with your wishes, there would have been every chance that Jack would have ended up dead – perhaps before he was even born!”

“Yeah? Well, he ended up dead anyway, didn’t he?” Dean says it like the words don’t hurt him as much as it does Cas. He says it like he doesn’t see the way Cas’s face fall, the little frustration he held shifts into what can only be described as both shock and grief. And then, to make it worse – and because he just can’t his mouth shout – he makes it a hundred times worse. “Maybe we’d be better off if we had stopped him from being born. At least then mom would still be alive.”

There wasn’t any grief left on Cas’s face. No sadness, no anger. It was nothing but disgust that he held for Dean and his words, and Dean knew he deserved such a look from Cas, but it wasn’t exactly like the rational part of his brain that knows this is in control right now.

“What do you want, Dean?” Castiel asks him, sounding too small and tired for a mighty angel of the Lord. “Did you track me all this way, come all the way out here to… what? To hurt me more?”

“No!” Dean yells, which totally defeats the point of what he’s trying to go with here. “No, that’s not why…” He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose and scrunching his eyes shut. “I… I came to bring you home.”

Castiel raises a single eyebrow up at him. “To… bring me home?”

“Yeah. You know, back to the bunker. Look Cas, I’m not stupid enough to pretend that I… that we don’t still need you.”

“That’s surprising to hear,” Castiel bites back. “Considering you think I’m the ‘thing’ that goes wrong in every mess we’ve been through.”

“That’s not-,” Dean tries, but Cas has already turned his back to him; hurriedly picking his fishing rod back up and began disassembling it. “I’m trying, okay?”

“Trying to do what?” Castiel grumbles under his breath, pulling apart the rod pieces a little harsher than he intended.

“What the hell do you think?!” Dean throws his hands in the air, letting his irritation boil over. “I’m trying to make things right, I guess. Trying to… to apologize.”

Castiel actually pauses in trying to stuff the rod back into its duffel, his head snapping up to look at Dean. “Apologize…? In what part of you admitting your wish for Jack to have been terminated before birth should I take as an apology?”

“Well… not… not that part,” Dean stutters out, taken aback by the fiery, spitting rage that Cas so rarely displays towards him. “If you’d just let me-,”

“No,” Castiel interrupts him, slowly rising back up with his duffel in hand. “You think you’re trying, Dean. You really do. But when it comes down to it, you’re not entirely ready to apologize to me. Not yet.” Dean couldn’t even get a word out as Cas reached into his trench-coat pocket before firmly planting something into his hand – something familiarly rectangular and thin in shape. “And even if you are… I’m certainly not ready to forgive.”

There was nothing Dean could do. Nothing but stand there in astonishment as Cas simply walked right by him, leaving him there standing at the end of the dock staring down at the object Cas has pressed into his hand. And honestly, this in itself was more painful than anything Cas could have ever said in return.

In his hand was a clearly well used, well-loved mixtape, his own writing staring back at him in crudely drawn sharpie on the faded white label:

‘Deans top 13 Zepp TRA XX’

“Thought I told you you’re supposed to keep gifts,” Dean just about manages to get out, braving a look up at Cas’s retreating form.

Castiel’s steps halt for just a moment. Just long enough to say one more thing before continuing on his way. “You did. But, it is to my knowledge that you only keep a gift so long as it is wanted, is it not?”

Never mind. He was wrong.

That hurt a lot more.

* * *

He was a dick.

He knew that. He got that now. But now, it seemed, was too late.

He can’t say he wasn’t angry, because he was. What he can say was that he held onto that anger for too long. That he didn’t stop for a moment to look at things the way Cas probably did. Instead, he only saw things the way his anger wanted to, to keep him steeped in that burning rage, letting himself lash out at Cas because it was easy. Because he’d put the blame on Cas so many times before, so why not do it again?

And now, Cas might be…

No. No, he refuses to believe it. Cas is fine. He’s made it out of a few bad scraps before, he’s sure Cas will find a way to take out those dick-head leviathans and… and Eve… the mother of all monsters… right?

“CAS!” His yell echoes between the trees that surround him, seemingly amplified by the low fog that swirls around him. An endlessly hopeful part of him expects to see that trench-coat-wearing idiot stumbling towards him in the distance, maybe a little bloodied and battle-worn but otherwise whole. But there’s nothing. Nothing but the odd stillness of Purgatory when creatures aren’t busy ripping each other apart.

How long had it been now? It had felt like he has been out here, wandering aimlessly for any sign of Cas for hours. He reaches into his pocket, pulling out his phone, and that awful squeeze of fear clenches around his heart at the timer ticking down, making it hard to breathe.

29 minutes. That was all he had. 29 minutes to find Cas in the whole of Purgatory and get them back to the portal in time. It took him damn near an entire year to find Cas the last time. 29 minutes just wasn’t enough, and it wasn’t fair. He couldn’t… He couldn’t tell Cas what’s been tearing him up inside, can’t tell him what Cas shouldn’t have to hear from him to know, and now he never will and-

“No, no no…” The words spill out of his mouth without his permission, sounding as close to a whimper of pain that actual words possibly could.

He didn’t want to do it like this. Hell, he didn’t even know if Cas even had enough grace left to hear him. But he had to try. It worked last time, didn’t it? Every damn night…

“Cas? Cas I hope you can hear me… that wherever you are, it’s not too late,” It was harder than he expected, saying this out loud. Almost like he was accepting that he was never going to speak to Cas again. Never get to say these words face to face. “I should’ve stopped you. You’re my best friend, but I just let you go. ‘Cause it was easier than admitting I was wrong.”

The incessant burning in his eyes gets too much, the heavy weight in his nose forcing a shaky sniffle out of him. He reaches out a hand to the tree next to him, barely enough time to process the scratchy roughness of the bark before his wobbly knees are giving out, forcing him down to a crouch, leaning his weight against the tree.

“I… Ohh…” He nearly says it, but the words get caught in the back of his throat. ‘Not yet’ a voice seems to whisper in his head. It was at least better than the voice that would always whisper ‘Never’ whenever he let himself think those words. “I don’t know why I get so angry. I just know – I know that – I-it’s always been there. And when things go bad, it just – it comes out. And I can’t – I can’t stop it. No matter how-,” His voice catches once more. He was well past the point of holding the tears back. “-How bad I want to, I just can’t stop it.”

This was it. He couldn’t hold back now. Not when this might be his last chance. Even if… Even if Cas was no longer alive to hear this message. “And – And I – I forgive you. Of course I forgive you. And – God, Cas. I love you. You hear me? I love you. And I – I’m sorry it took me so long. I’m sorry it took me till now, till it might be too damn late to say it. Cas, I’m – I’m so sorry. I hope you can hear me… Please, hear me…”

He can almost hear the ‘whomp’ of wings he hasn’t heard in years. Could almost envision the sight of Cas stood behind him, head tilted to the side, looking to him in genuine angel curiosity as he answers Dean’s prayers. But when he looks around, the forests of Purgatory look just as empty through his tear-filled vision as they did moments before. “Okay…” Dean forces himself up, wiping a hand down his face to wipe away any evidence of what had just happened. Reset himself back to Dean Winchester. Hunter. Son of John Winchester.

Get the job done. Get back home.

His mind seems to switch off after that. He’s sure he looked every part the stereotypical zombies in the movies and tv shows and comics as he shuffles forward in the direction of the portal, face blank and devoid of life, shotgun heavy in hand and only the barest of survival instincts keeping an eye out for any movement within the trees.

He wasn’t far now. Just up ahead was his way out of here. He would step through, and be home. Without the flower. And… and without Cas. Mom. Jack. Rowena. Now Cas? What was the point? Would the world expect him to keep fighting if he lost Sammy too? And… God, what if Cas wasn’t dead? What if he walks through that portal, letting it close behind him, and leaves Cas here to be trapped for eternity?

Maybe he still had time. Maybe he could-

No. He didn’t. The timer on his phone displaying the numbers ’00:02:56’ proved as much. There wasn’t time. Cas was-

“Dean?”

Both hands are wrapped around his shotgun and pointing it towards the direction of the voice before his mind has fully caught up. His finger slides away from the trigger as his mouth falls open, lowering the end of the shotgun down at the sight of Cas, glorious Cas, looking a little worse for wear sat at the base of a tree. He looked every bit as dirty, bloodied, and miserable as anyone would after nearly twenty-four hours in Purgatory, but it didn’t matter, as it was the best sight Dean had ever seen.

Cas looks equally as shocked to see him, grimacing to himself as he pushes himself up to stand. “You made it?”

Dean can’t help but laugh. Not really the time for laughing, but it was mostly the delirium and pure, sweet relief bursting out of him. “I made it?”

Cas stumbles towards him, a bit of a limp in his gait, and Dean quickly makes up the short distance between them, throwing his arms around Cas and pulling the angel towards him. Cas feels real and solid pressed against his chest, and Dean thumps his hands against Cas’s back almost to prove to himself that the whole of Cas is here and intact. He almost wasn’t. He almost lost one of the only people left in this world he can say that he loves.

Which... which he’s said now.

“You okay?” Dean asks as soon as he feels Cas begin to push away from him, letting his eyes scan across Cas’s form to check for any obvious wounds or spilling of grace.

“I’m fine,” Castiel insists, probably a lie if Dean knows him. But, other than the sluggishly bleeding scrape on Cas’s head, he does look fine.

“What happened?”

“They were after me, not you,” Castiel gets out through panting, pained-sounding breaths. Yeah, sure. Fine. “I figured it would be safest to give myself up.”

And there it is again. Just another goddamn slap to the face. Even after everything that’s happened, after all the awful crap he’s said to Cas, the way he’s treated him… Cas was so willing to just put himself in the firing line for him.

‘These are not just monsters, Dean. They’re Leviathan. I have a price on my head, and I’ve been trying to stay one step ahead of them, to – to keep them away from you.’

“They take you to Eve?”

“Yeah. We were en route. I waited until I… saw this,” Cas reached into his trench-coat pocket, pulling out a sad-looking excuse for a flower that looked about as beat up as the person holding it. “It… got a little smushed.”

Dean could almost cry. Again. Here Cas was, somehow having escaped from a bunch of freak leviathans before being handed over to what would likely be horrendous torture and a death sentence from the mother of all monsters, manages to find the stupid fucking flower they came all the way out here for, get all the way back to the portal where he sits and waits for him… and he looks embarrassed that the flower got a little ‘smushed?’

That’s beside the fact that he probably crushed it by hugging Cas.

“Once I had the blossom, I fought; caught them off guard,” Cas continued. “They fought back. I managed to get away.”

Dean smiles. For what feels like the first time in quite a while, he smiles. “You did it. You did it, Cas.”

And then, by some miracle by God – wait no, not him, by something or someone… Cas gives him a tentative smile back. “Well, they’re still after me. We should hurry,” Cas gestures with a small shake of his head towards the portal, already starting to move away.

“Okay, Cas I need to say something-,”

“You don’t have to say it,” Castiel interrupts, that tentative smile back on his face. “I heard your prayer.”

But that wasn’t enough. Sure, it was of some comfort knowing that the prayer had at least reached Cas, but… but something didn’t sit right with him about that. Besides the fact that what he said is something that really should be said face to face (and maybe sending a message like that over the prayer is the equivalent of sending it over text message or… or voicemail?), Cas’s reaction was just… not what he was expecting. Not that Cas was ever entirely predictable in his reactions, and perhaps basing what Cas’s reaction would be on what his reaction would be if Cas ever confessed to him like that wasn’t the best of ideas, but… still, it was odd. Dean was expecting at least something, some sort of reaction to his words other than an acknowledgment that it had been heard.

Cas was right, though. They really needed to hurry; what with a bunch of leviathans after them and probably around 30 seconds left before the portal closes behind them.

They race towards the portal, his hand on Cas’s back helping to push him forward as he struggles with that new limp of his. Dean can hear his pulse racing in his ears as they step closer and closer to the portal, watching its light flicker and shimmer as it struggles to stay open. He wouldn’t be surprised if God had somehow caught wind of their plans, and was waiting until the very last second when they were about to step through, to close the portal a few seconds earlier and laugh in their faces as the portal disappears from sight.

But that’s not what happens. They step through the portal, one after the other, neither being left behind. There’s a split second of nothing but blinding white as the portal flares, losing sight of Cas for just a moment, and then he’s there again; stood just in front of him in the bunker, the tension and stress of Purgatory already draining away from his hunched posture.

The portal gives one last pathetic flicker, and then it’s closing down on itself. The bunker is left in silence, the crackle of the portal’s energy gone, and they’re both left standing facing each other in this awkward, “what happens now” kind of stillness.

“Um… I suppose I should-,” Cas begins, taking the flower out from his pocket and motioning towards the bunker hallway.

“Cas, wait,” Dean pleads, taking an unsure step towards Cas, who freezes in place with flower still in hand. “I… I really need to talk to you, man.”

Castiel’s forehead creases in confusion, hesitantly reaching back into his pocket to put the flower back. “I already told you, Dean. I heard your prayer-,”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Dean cuts him off with a wave of his hand. His tongue darts out to wet his upper lip, a nervous gesture he could never quite hide. “I just… I feel like you should hear it directly from me, if that makes sense?”

“Not really.”

Dean huffs. “Look Cas, it’s… I meant it, okay? Even if I was panicking over the thought of you being stuck in purgatory again and… it wasn’t just a “I might as well say it because you might be dead” kind of thing, okay?”

“I know,” Castiel says, still looking just as confused as he did moments ago. “I know you’re sorry, Dean. It’s okay. I believe you.”

And then Cas turns to walk away again, and Dean can’t help but get the feeling that Cas isn’t quite getting what he’s trying to say here. So, he darts out a hand and grasps Cas’s arm, bringing the angel to a standstill. Cas looks down at Dean’s hand around his arm in genuine surprise, almost as if Dean had done something incredible offensive, and then brings his gaze up to meet Dean’s desperate one. “Dean? Are you okay?”

Dean couldn’t help it. He laughs, though it sounds about as humorless as he was feeling right now. “No, Cas. I’m not. But… are you… did you hear my entire prayer?”

Castiel frowns at him again, blue eyes scanning across the sudden, unexpected timidness look on Dean’s face. “Yes. I heard all of it.”

Dean returns the inquisitive gaze, searching for any kind of reaction, a give of some sort that Cas was thinking back to those words he had prayed to him. But there’s nothing. Nothing but the usual patient look that Castiel always held. “Listen man, I’m always one for avoiding big girly talks as much as the next guy, but… are you really not going to say anything about it?”

“About what?”

Damn it. He’s really gonna make him say it again, huh?

“You know… the bit about how I uh… the thing I said, after I said I was sorry?”

“Oh!” Castiel says, his tone bright in realization. “When you said you love me?”

And wow, what a way for Cas to say it. Like it was just… a matter of fact. Like he was simply stating what the fucking weather was like.

Dean must be staring at Cas with a damn right bewildered face right now, as the look of concern Castiel had worn for pretty much this entire conversation began to increase tenfold. “What is it?”

“Seriously?” Dean splutters out, throwing his hands up in the air. “You’re telling me I had to discover this mind-altering revelation for myself, keep it pushed down, come to terms with it and finally get the balls to admit it to you, and your reaction is absolutely nothing?”

“But… I already knew you loved me?”

It’s enough to bring Dean’s mind to a standstill. Had he… he had somehow told Cas he loved him and didn’t remember it? Oh God, that damn memory spell… had he somehow called Cas and told him something before his memory completely went kaput? No, no, it couldn’t have been that… the counter spell regained all his memories of that shitty night, he’s pretty sure… Could Cas sense it, somehow? What if it was in his soul? Some kind of change to his soul that Cas picked up on?

“You… you knew?”

“Yes… You’ve reiterated to me many times that I’m like a brother to you, and, given your connection to Sam, I assumed that meant that kind of love extended to me as well? I don’t mean to offend you Dean, the fact that you put me in the same regard as Sam is an honor of itself-,”

Oh.

Oh.

Oh, Cas. Oh, Cas, Cas, Cas. He had listened to what he had said, but he hadn’t really heard him. Strangely, it kind of hurt to think that, upon hearing his confession, Cas had just sort of automatically assumed that he had meant he loved him like a brother. Perhaps it hurt because, he wasn’t sure if Cas assumed that because of the way he’s always treated him, or because Cas could just never see Dean in any other way.

“Not what I meant, Cas,” Dean says quietly, though the words sounded loud in the quiet of the room. “Oh, Cas. You damn fool… I didn’t mean as a brother.”

Cas almost looks scared, and it’s about the equivalent of a rusty knife being twisted in his gut. Cas looked scared to be hopeful. Like he was scared to think of what his words meant. Dean reaches out a hand once more, gently grabbing hold of the sleeve of Cas’s trench coat. Cas doesn’t flinch or move his arm away, so Dean lets his hand slowly slip down, lets his fingers settle in the gap between Cas’s. Cas’s breath hitches at the feeling of warm skin against his hand, his eyes darting to their entwined hands then back up to Dean. His mouth parts, a question on his lips, which Dean answers with his own.

It’s… not what he was expecting. There’s no moment of inner panic, no feeling of wrongness that has him ripping away from Cas and furiously wiping at his lips. But it’s no “fireworks” moment, either. Cas’s lips are, confusingly, chapped and dry from the cold winds of Purgatory, and yet have a tender softness to them that has him leaning closer for more. He doesn’t taste like… well, that one Dean wasn’t sure about. He had kinda been expecting some kind of… of… soapy cleanliness taste of pure, heavenly Grace. But no, Cas tastes like dirt and sweat with a little metallic twang from what was likely a busted-up lip. It’s nothing like any girl he’s ever kissed has tasted like, and strangest of all, he doesn’t give him a damn. He’s not panicking about kissing Cas because “It’s Cas!”, he’s sinking into it, melting into the touch of Cas’s hand on his back, because It’s Cas.

But the moment can’t last forever. Cas goes tense under his hands, a sudden fear taking hold, and then he’s holding Dean at arm’s length. His eyes are wide and fixated on Dean’s face, chest rising and falling in tandem with his harsh breaths, despite the fact Dean’s fairly sure Cas doesn’t even have to breathe.

“Did you mean it?” Castiel asks, his fingers tightening their grip around Dean’s shoulders. “You… you love me like…?”

“Yeah, Cas,” Dean says with a blissed-out smile. “Not like a brother. I don’t just love you. I’m in love with you. And listen, I know I kinda sprung this up on you at a bad time, and… I know I’ve acted like a real jerk to you lately, so you have every right to just pretend like this never happened and-,”

“Don’t be an idiot, Dean Winchester,” Castiel cut him off, but there’s no malice to his voice as he does it. In fact, the small pull of a smile at the corner of his mouth widens to a gummy smile that Dean knows means this is a really happy Cas, and considering how rare he sees that from Cas, it brings him a sense of satisfaction that he’s the reason Cas is smiling like that.

“Sorry, Cas. Being an idiot is just who I am. Especially considering I was apparently stupid enough to go and fall in love.”

And then it’s Cas’s turn to make Dean freeze up in disbelief and stare at Cas wide-eyed, because he chuckles warmly at Dean’s statement and tells him, “I suppose that makes me stupid too, then.”

“Oh…” Is all Dean can squeak out, probably the un-manliest he’s ever sounded, but considering the beaming smile Cas sends his way, he guesses Cas didn’t seem to mind. “You, uh… you don’t have to say it if you don’t-,”

“I love you,” Castiel confessed, soft and sweet, yet it punches into Dean hard. “But I thought you already knew that.”

“Maybe you should stop assuming things, Cas.”

“And maybe you should stop waiting until you think I’m dead to say how you feel.”

“Touché,” Dean settles, grabbing hold of Cas’s hand once more and tugging him towards the door. “Oh, and-,” He stops mid-stride, Cas nearly colliding into him. Dean forces down a grin at Cas’s curious head tilt as he searches in his jacket pocket, pulling out the mixtape he’s kept there ever since Cas gave it back to him and planting it perhaps a little too harshly against Cas’s chest. “Don’t you ever try and give this back to me again.”

Cas places his free hand atop Dean’s on his chest, giving it a reassuring squeeze. Cas grabs hold of the mixtape before it can drop to the ground as Dean removes his hand, fingers curled protectively around the tape as he looks down at it with a fond smile.

“I suppose I should have known,” Castiel murmurs quietly, eyes softening with realization as he stares down at the tape. “You already tried to give your love to me. It was just in a language I had yet to truly understand.”

[hankwritten]

Quodlibet

Demoman/Soldier, 2k

Request for ImSorry, College

“How do you even know this guy anyway?” Jeremy asked, leaning over Jane’s back in such a intrusive distillation of his character that this particular instant could have come from any singular moment throughout the semester, right down to the mortal threat to Jane’s class project.

“Watch it, Buster! You are dangerously close to causing the greatest second dolphin extinction event since the invention of the six-pack!”

Trying to dislodge his suitemate, Jane threw his shoulder, pushing Jeremy and his grasping arms backwards and away from the fragile, pseudo-aquatic diorama.

Jeremy slid down Jane’s spine. “Fine, jeez, I wasn’t going to squish your bath toys.” He went boneless just long enough to reach the floor, then promptly popped to his feet and began looking at the aquarium from the other side. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“I don't know what you mean by ‘this guy’,” Jane grumbled. “This is clearly a diorama. Not a guy.”

“The guy, man,” Scout nagged, and Jane could already feel the migraine coming on. Jeremy was actually the human embodiment of head pains, to the point where sometimes Jane wondered if he had escaped from a lab that had been trying to bio-engineer the most aggravating person in existence. “This guy that’s making you go wackadoo and put like ten times more effort into a freaking GED project than anyone ever should.”

“This has nothing to do with him.” Jane put an aggressive amount of glue on his last dolphin.

“Right, sure,” Jeremy snickered. “But as soon as I said ‘guy you have a weird rivalry with’ you immediately jumped to him.” When Jane grit his teeth, Jeremy laughed again. “So what is it with you two? You didn’t get the urge to start tearing each other’s intellectual dicks off just because of some Economics of Marine Biology class, right?”

“Applied Oceanography,” Jane corrected, pointedly not looking up.

“C’mon pally, you know what I meant-”

“Hrrn nn brrdaa”

The voice of their third and final suitemate spoke up from a nearby beanbag chair, where its owner was trying to ignite a textbook with a lighter.

Jeremy looked to them, then to Jane. “Really? He plays for the Brawlers too?”

“Yes,” Jane snarled. “Mystery solved. The new power guard is in my oceanography class, and now you will shut your trap, shortstop, so that I can proceed to kick his ass in diorama making and prove that I am the superior guard.”

“That ain’t exactly a perfect chain of events, but you do you pally.” Jeremy pulled to the far end of the couch, drawing his legs into a fold. “Ain’t like, you supposed to develop deep-seated rivalries with players from other schools? Not your own?”

“If you met him, you would understand.” Jane placed some cherry bombs at the bottom of the glass tank. “Plus, he-...” Swallowing his fury, he said, “he got me moved to small guard.”

“To- what?”

“Hurmm umma,” their third put in helpfully.

Jeremy absorbed this for a moment, then burst out laughing. “Oh, oh man. There’s literally a position called small guard? That’s- that’s fucking hilarious you gotta admit.”

“I have to admit no such thing!” Jane rounded on him, diverting his attention from his precious project for the first time in over three hours. “I used to be power guard! Then some one-eyed, Scottish, lay-about, freshman comes in and thinks he can take my spot? This is betrayal of the highest order! A perversion of our constitution!”

“Mrra hudda.”

“I do not care if small guard is ‘technically a step up’,” Jane huffed. “Power guard is further to the front. That makes it better.”

“Basketball’s for chumps anyway,” Jeremy said, apparently having derived all the entertainment he’d wanted from the conversation, laying until he could reach his arms behind his head and dropping his legs in Jane’s lap. “You should try out for a real sport. But hey! Hope your little fish tank fills your inadequacy or whatever.”

“Oh it will.” Jane lowered his face to the glass, breath fogging and obscuring the magnum opus within. “It will.”

#

“And here you will see what happens when America finally colonizes the ocean!” Jane said to the drooling, glassy eyes of an 8am class.

They were significantly less slumberous when he threw a final cherry bomb into his demonstration, causing a chain reaction as dozens of ‘fireworks’ went off under the ocean, celebrating America’s eventual conquest. To really send the message home, he pulled the ripcord in the back, dropping a miniature stars and stripes behind the tank.

“Oorah!” he concluded.

“...Thank you Mister Doe,” the professor said. “Your time allotted for presenting is up.”

He turned and gave her a big thumbs up.

While some staff at Teufort U insisted you call them by their first names, this professor was not one of them, and it was rumored that the TA who had once dared to call her ‘Helen’ in front of her students was never seen again. However, no one could be that much of a hardass all the time; Jane was confident his project had just blown her out of the water (pun intended.)

She eyed his thumbs up with her perpetually sour face. “...That means return to your seat, Mister Doe.”

Jane picked up his aquarium and strolled jauntily back to his desk.

His good mood dissipated as soon as Tavish was announced as the next presenter. The usurper pulled his aquarium in on a cart, a sheet draped over to allow for a dramatic reveal. Dammit. Jane should have thought about dramatic reveals.

Tavish grinned at his audience, whisking away the blanket with a flourish.

“Behold!” he declared. “You’ve heard of desalination to deal with the oncoming global water shortages, but my proposal is this: a complete and total refinement. Salt water? Pah! Whiskey oceans are where it’s at.”

The tanked sloshed, full of something clearly scrumpy or scrumpy adjacent. Within the alcohol floated an awfully realistic looking octopus, expertly crafted and swishing with the tank’s movements. An eyepatch covered its left side.

“With the addition of boozed-based life forms of course, for an entirely new ecosystem.”

Jane curled his lip. Damn. He was good.

“...Mister DeGroot,” the professor said, “might I remind you that this is an alcohol free campus, regardless of any student’s legal status to drink? And, even without that, you are not currently twenty-one years of age?”

“Drinking age is sixteen in Scotland, Ma’am.”

“Sit, DeGroot.”

Tavish sat. He shot Jane a smug grin. Jane scowled.

“That concludes our presentations for today.” If the professor’s voice got any more disappointed, she could have been a ringer for a Badlands Brawlers fan. “As you know, the diorama that scores the highest marks will receive extra credit toward our upcoming final exam. I use the remainder of the class time to grade, and announce the winner shortly. Please return on the bell if you wish to receive those extra credits.”

The ‘bell’, unlike those rinky dinky little red bowl things they had in high school, was actually a proper bell tower, situated over the science building and able to be heard anywhere on campus. This was where Jane retreated to wait out his nerves, pacing around the semi-enclosed area and mulling over his chances. Fine, Tavish’s had been good. He was used to Tavish being good, the bastard, but Jane’s was better, and this time he was going to mop the floor with him.

“I am going to mop the floor with you!” he declared to the heavens.

“Not with that sad display you won’t.”

Jane jumped. A quiet moment of solitude foiled, besieged by his mortal enemy who’d somehow snuck up on him in order to lean cockily against the door to the stairs.

“My display was anything but sad.” Jane shook his fist. “It was joyous! Victorious! Other words that mean not sad!” When Tavish continued to smirk at him, he added, “plus, your idea is bad anyway.”

“Aye?” Tavish challenged. “How so?”

Dammit. Jane hadn’t thought this far. Replacing the oceans with whiskey really did seem foolproof...except…

“If there is no more water, then you can’t make other type of booze either!” he declared triumphantly.

Tavish jaw clenched. Ha! Good. Let him get angry for once.

He walked over and got right in Jane’s face. “Well what about you? How are you going to light off the fireworks underwater?”

“Oil, salt, and various temperature and pressure difference!” Jane didn’t like the other man in his space, and gave him a shove. They were always doing that to each other during practice, blocking and shoulder-checking harder than necessary, doing things that would certainly be penalties in an actual game.

“Who cares?” Tavish shoved him back. “No one’s going to see them anyway.”

Jane grabbed him by the front of the shirt and shouted, “the dolphins will! You would know that if YOU HAD BEEN PAYING ATTENTION.”

One, dangling, aggravating second stretched on, catching friction as they pressed noses and breathed heavy with the effort. Then they reacted simultaneously, lunging forward and attacking each other in mouth to mouth combat.

Jane growled furiously, trying to gain the upper hand, but Tavish was just as motivated not to let him get it. The pair of them sucked at each other’s faces, mastication muscles competing for this year’s WWE championship belt, crashing against the nearest half-wall surrounding the roof. A more wary observer might have worried about them careening over the edge, but Tavish and Jane had more pressing things on their minds. (And ‘more pressing’ was exactly how they were going to resolve it.) Just a whole mismatched ball of absolute frustration as they worked out several months of pent-up attraction.

Their combined rage might have carried them to hell and back, had the bell not struck 9am at that exact moment.

They both screamed, trying desperately to cover their ears as they hundred and fifty year old bell GONGED above them, rattling teeth inside skulls and causing tears to spring to their eyes.

“God! Why don’t they have a warning sign up? Bloody hell!” Tavish moaned, having found his way to the floor and using his beanie to futilely cover his head.

“What???” Jane, who already didn’t have a good ear at the best of times, worried briefly that he’d finally gone deaf.

“What?” Tavish asked. “I can’t hear a thing you’re saying.”

“What?”

This went on for several minutes, the two men lying on the floor of the bell tower.

When they finally staggered down to class, it was in a terribly haggard state, and new bruises around their mouths.

“Hello professor,” Tavish, the least winded of them, declared. “It’s alright, you can tell us which one was the winner now. We’ve worked out our differences, and determined to let the best man win.”

“The best man will be me, but yeah what he said!” Jane put in.

“If you’re going for flashy, maybe, but on sheer sustainability-”

“No one’s going to eat alcohol-based sushi, cyclops-”

“Enough,” the professor cut in. “Neither of you won the extra credit points.”

“What?” Tavish gaped. “But ours were the best out of anyone’s! How could we possibly lose?”

“The assignment,” she said in a clipped voice that spoke of years of dealing with the exact idiots that Teufort tended to attract, “was to create a physical display of algae chemical reactions at different levels of light and pressure as found in the oceanic zones. Not only did you not win, you have failed this project. Now, since I have a lecture in Hale Hall in fifteen minutes, I suggest you both move out of my way, otherwise you will not have the chance to recuperate those points on the final exam. Goodbye gentleman.”

She stripped the last of the grading notes off her desk, shoved them into a manila folder, and disappeared out the door.

Tavish and Jane watched her go. The minutes ticked by on the wall mounted analog clock, which probably could have told them the time just as well as the giant bell that had nearly deafened them.

“Hey,” Tavish said, elbowing Jane in the side. “I got to take Basic Intergluteal Numismatics next semester.”

“...Yeah? And?”

“Bet I can solve systematic inflation before you can.”

“Oh, you’re on son.”

[yamithediaperdork]

Crime and punishment (MHA)

Crime and Punishment

Out of all the duties that Katsuki thought was a waste of time for hero's in training and legends of awesomeness like himself, Touring experimental new prisons had to be up there near the top. Normally he'd be able to bully someone else in the class into taking the job off his hands but today no such luck as the teachers had taken notice and were watching him like a god damn hawk. Adding to his bucket of annoyance was who he was partnered up with for this little tour, Izuku Midoriya himself..or as Katsuki preferred to call the green haired cry baby: Deku. (though it did spoil some of his fun his cruel nickname for the weakling had been taken by the crybaby as his hero name. still...) Adding to the total bullshit that this assignment was, not only were they suppose to take notes and report back with their suggestions so the full trained heroes could make a judgment call (which rendered the whole fucking thing moot if you asked Katsuki his humble opinion) But they had to do it in costume. Being of the mindset he put on his uniform to fight and blow things up, not do paperwork, this just served to piss the already poorly tempered hero in training off even more. they were currently in the office of the warden for this new experiential jail and he'd gone off into his own little world while the balding man with the big nose rambled on and on. He knew Deku would be a good little suck up and soak in every word and he'd just copy the nerd's report when this was all done anyways. He only tuned back in when Deku nudged him with his elbow and Katsuki realized they had been talking to him and he'd just been staring off into space. "what?" He asked. "..As I was telling your collage here, we need you to both sign some waivers given the technology that will be on display here, as well as a wavier not to tell anyone other then the hero's your reporting too about what you saw here today." the warden said, frowning. "Yeah yeah, whatever. just give me the stupid paper work and lets get this over with." Katsuki said. "Ah, Great Explosion Murder God Dynamite...I think you should read the paper work and make sure you know what your signing first. Since you kinda..zoned out there." Deku said. "whatever nerd." Katsuki said, though GOD he loved his hero name and leaned in as if he was going to humor the nerd..then just signed the paper work. The warden rolled his eyes but took out two badges that the heroes could wear around their necks and handed them over. "..what, you think SOMEHOW your guards are gonna mistake us for some of your inmates?" Katsuki asked and Deku face palmed. "I really wish you'd just pay attention.." the crybaby whined softly. "what?!" Katsuki huffed. "Maybe if you didn't have the attention span of a toddler Mr..and I can't believe I'm even going to say this.. 'Great Explosion Murder God Dynamite', You'd of heard how much of our system is automated and that badge will keep you from being seen as a prisoner by the computers." the Warden said dryly. "..Who you calling a tod-" Katsuki started, but Deku stepped in and broke it up.

Huffing and pouty, Katsuki trailed behind the warden and Deku as they talked on and on and pictured how easy it would be to just toss a little blast at their feet, for a jump scare. 'heh, better now. Deku will just wet himself and bawl like a baby, again. They should just get a pacifier for him to suck on like the big baby he is.' Katsuki mused, mentally picturing Deku in just a oversized diaper and in a playpen, oversized paci in his mouth and bawling. So vivid was the mental image for a second Katsuki thought he must of been imposing it as he looked into one of the cells. Because there on the floor, hugging a teddy bear was a bald tanned skinned man, maybe in his 30, and he was dressed like a fucking toddler. like, as in paw patrol socks on, and he was wearing a freaking diaper shirt with a dino print on it and uh, yeah.. Mother fucking diapers that showed due to their thickness! the guy didn't even seem to notice him, he was busy sucking on a paci and watching a tv in the room. "what the fuckkkkk?" Katsuki laughed out loud. "..and I see the toddler is back with us." the warden said. "I'ma let that slide because what the fuck? why's that guy in huggies?" Katsuki asked, jerks a thumb at the window and snickering. "We uh..we went over this in the office Great Explosion Murder Death God..This prison is utilizing a new form of regressive therapy.." Deku said, rubbing the back of his head. "Man, the fuck did this guy do to end up being put back in pampers?" Katsuki asked. "must of been a real terror in actual prison for them to make him partake in this!" "-sigh- for the benefit of toddlers who don't listen.." The warden said, coming over and taping a few button on the control panel by the prisoners door, and the wall became transparent for them to get a better view. "Call me a toddler one more time, I fucking dare you." Katsuki grumbled. "ANYWAYS! Every one of the inmates in this prison is a volunteer who is getting 10 years shaved off of their sentences to try this. If the program is approved and if they wish to keep being part of it, further time will be shaved off." The warden said. "Each cell  is equipped to look after and care for the inmates as if they were little boys or girls since it's a unisex prison, or if they just happen to be transgender. it's not OUR place to judge them." As the warden spoke, the prisoner who apparently didn't know he was being watched, suddenly got up on his knees and hugged a stuffie close to his chest as he started to make scrunchie faces. "..Is he.." Deku asked, turning and looking away to give the guy privacy. "Oh yeah, he's totally baking brownies." Katsuki snorted. As Katsuki and the warden watched, the back of the inmates diaper shirt and well, of course, diapers puffed out and expanded, to the point the crotch snaps burst open. "Sheesh, fucker must of been holding it in for ages." Katsuki observed. "actually it's part of the diet their on, we feel frequent and massive movements help with breaking down their ego's and let's them accelerate the reforming processes." The warden said proudly. "Righttt..ok fess up. you just like making tough guys shit they're brains out right?" Katsuki asked and chuckled. "..Your a very unpleasant person. I'm going to make a request you NOT be sent for the follow up review." "Oh nooo, I don't have to come here and listen to you drone on and on and watch adults crap themselves. I'm soooo heart broken about that." Katsuki said and rolled his eyes. walking away from the scene and leaving Deku trying to look over and make sure it was ok, Katsuki fiddled with his badge as he walked away from them and missed the sight of the metal arms coming out of the walls and attending to the stinky inmate, though Deku did take a interest in this part can came over to watch. "He doesn't um..seem that upset." Deku said. "oh this isn't his first dirty diaper, and there are speakers in there with a calming female voice praising him for making such a big present and telling him what a good boy he is. again, it could of been a male or female voice, we go with what works best for the inmate." Indeed, one of the metal arms with white gloved hands was coming down now and gently patted the inmates squishy bottom as his head, making the man blush but give a big toothy smile. "you wouldn't know it to look at him now, but he was a several bank robber and known for his brutal tactics. I figure with this treatment he'll be reformed in maybe 4 years..5 tops." The warden said with pride in his voice. "wow..I thought he looked familiar..Hey Ka- Great Explosion Murder God Dynamite, you gotta come and see-" Deku turned to call Katsuki over and the machines started to lift the inmate to a changing table, but the Blond was gone. "What a shock. the toddler wandered off." The warden said, and punched in a command on the control panel again, making the wall go back to normal. "we'd better go and find him.." Deku nodded and they headed up the hall towards where the the hall split into two paths, and it was there Deku looked down and found Katsuki's ID badge. "uhhh warden? what are the chances he'll be snagged without this on?" Deku asked, holding it up. "Between his attuide and wandering off into areas without at least someone else wearing a badge? 93 percent." The warden said, clearly amused. "...Weeeee better hurry...if they try and diaper him he's libel to blown this whole place up. "

Katsuki had at some point stopped playing with his badge and was just busy looking in at the different inmates, trying to see if he knew any of them from news reports and the like on tv. He made a point of knocking on the windows and getting the big babies attention and smirked as they would blush and hide (well some of them, others would just give a sheepish wave and others outright ignored him) Sadly there didn't seem to be any super villains locked up, though then again what villain would of volunteered for something like this? He was making his way to the next cell when suddenly a green light scanned over him, hurting his eyes for a second. "Ow! the fuck!?" he growled, rubbing at them. "Warning: inmate in hallway and not in proper attire. deploying prisoner recapture protocols." A robotic voice called out in the hallway, then was replaced with a sugary sweet male who started to scold him. "Now now, what are you doing out of your cell, and without your cute widdle outfit on little man? you don't wanna make a mess everywhere do you?" as it spoke, multiple holes in the walls opened up and more of the metal arms with the white gloved hands came out of them. "Uh..Hold up, I'm a superhero visiting. I've got a badge and-" Katsuki said, gulping a little and taking a step back, reaching for the badge and finding it gone. "...Well shit on a stick. guess we're doing this the hard way." Having only expected to be doing a little walk around, he hadn't stored any of his explosive sweat for use, though with a fair idea of what these things wanted to do with him, he was flop sweating enough to make up for it. "Such foul language! somebodies in for a mouth washing if he doesn't start behaving! you're already getting a spanking and corner time mister." the Voice announced. "Counter offer: fuck you." Katsuki said and went to work, blowing up two of the arms right off the bat and chagrining in, there was NO way he was gonna lose to a bunch of shitty robot arms! Or that was the going theory till as he got close one of the hands opened up and sprayed a green mist in his face. coughing and then seeing double, Katsuki pouted and got out a final statement before collapsing to the floor. "Knock out gas? No fairrrr!"

He woke up shortly after, and found himself in one of the nursery cells and almost totally naked.  the almost part came from the thick mitten that had been put on both of his hands rendering his powers useless and the booties on his feet. "Nggggh.. damn cheating bas-" "Foul language detected! Bad boy! somebodies getting a mouth washing!" came the male voice over the intercom and before Katsuki could even try and fight back he found himself forced to sit up on the changing change and his arms pinned at his sides by two of the arms.A third one came out of the wall wielding a wet and sudsy bar of soap and Katsuki glared. "Go fuck yourself if you thin-" he started to rant, not quite figuring out that he should of kept his mouth shut and as such the bar was forced into his mouth and he couldn't spit it out, eyes shutting tight and soapy drool trails leaking down his chin. "Maybe five minutes as a soap sucker will help you stop swearing Little guy..but daddy isn't going to hold his breath." the voice said. 'oh good, not only is it a crazy fucking AI that wants to make me a diaper baby..but one with a sense of humor.' Katsuki thought dryly.

Five minutes later and the bar was carefully removed but held close, clearly the machine was waiting to see if he'd learned his lesson. Katsuki for his part was PISSED and wiped at his touage with his mitten hands, trying to get rid of the icky taste. 'Ok Katsuki..you've seen what being a brat got you..let's tone down the attuide and try logic...' He thought, eyeing the walls warily. He hadn't been diapered YET but it was clear that was where he was heading if he didn't figure something out. "uh..What do I call you?" Katsuki said. "Daddy of course little man,m or would you prefer a mommy?" the voice said cheerfully. 'I'd prefer someone dumped a bucket of water on your CPU' Katsuki thought but with GREAT effort kept the comment to himself. "C-Can we talk logically for a second and hold off the diapers? ..Please?" Katsuki said, giving a smile to show he was trying to be good but said smile would of terrified young kids. "..heh I'll hear you out." "Ok so..Were you programed to accept any new inmates at all today? do you have a profile on me that tells you what crimes I supposedly did?" "Scanning..Nope." Daddy said. "Alright..then if I'm not in the system, then I must be telling the truth when I tell you I'm not a inmate right?" Katsuki said and smiled for real. "Hmmm.. well the programmers have been known to be lax when it comes to updates..and you've already earned a 2 month prison term regardless." Daddy said. "What!? what for!?!" Katsuki demanded. the tv clicked to life and footage of Katsuki destroying two of the arms was played. "Destruction of government property." "..ARE YOU SHITTING ME!? YOU STARTED THAT FIGHT!" "Hmmm mouth washing didn't work, let's try anther something else..." Daddy said and the arms moved in again and restrained Katsuki on his tummy and to his horror, a large enema bag was brought out and a rather large looking nozzle. "I bet your just so grumpy because your backed up little guy!" daddy said. "..I really..really..Hate these kind of missions..." Katsuki whimpered.

Deku and the warden did finally find Katsuki, but it was only after finding the scene of the fight, and the warden warning Deku that the machine was programed to automatically add a months sentence for every damaging attack on it. "I mean, I'm sure if we get the head programmer in here we can clear that up..but the machines AI automatically files the charges with the DA so we'll have to talk to them too." the warden explained. With that knowledge in mind Deku thought he'd been prepared to see Katsuki, having known by that point he'd likely been er well..dressed as a inmate. Getting to the cell the warden believed he was in, he punched in the code to make the wall transparent and well..they were greeted by the site of a enema nozzle JUST coming out of Katsuki's backside, and he was being rapidly taped up in a massive white diaper. the blond brat's tummy was bloated and Deku almost could swear he could hear it sloshing and a Pacifier gag had been strapped to his mouth. "He must of been using excessive swearing for it to paci gag him." the warden said, sounding amused. "Yeahhh I can see that.. Uh..Anyway you can try and get this to stop? Like.maybe it won't release him but is there a training potty or something at least?" Deku asked, rubbing the back of his head. truthfully while he wanted to bust a gut laughing he knew that wouldn't be fair to Katsuki, even if the brat had brought this on himself. "Nope. once one of the super poopers goes on, it doesn't come off till filled to the brim." The warden chuckled. "..Super poopers?" "the name of that massive diaper the toddler is wearing." "..you know your enjoying this a little too much." "Oh come on, and your not, even a little bit?" Before Deku could answer he's eyes were drawn to Katsuki as the blond hunched over and loudly whined though his gag, the warden had taken the extra step of making it so they could hear everything too. "Anddd I don't think he's gonna last long enough for a training potty to get in there anyways." taping on the control panel, Katsuki went from staring down at the floor, sweat dripping at his face to looking at them and his cheeks flushed red. he held up one mitten covered hand and waved it, trying to get them to look away but daddy spoke up. "oh look little guy! you have visitors! Hello warden, How are you today?" Daddy asked.

Katsuki whined and started to cry. between the cramps and the utter humiliation of being seen like this he lost any sense of bravo and turned away from the pair watching him, trying to find somewhere to hide before he well, disgraced himself. "I'm fine Daddy. You've made a mistake though daddy, This isn't a inmate of the prison." Katsuki whimpered, massive diaper butt wiggling as he tried to crawl under the crib in the nursery and hearing Deku snort and start to laugh before coughing. "Oh, I guess the little guy was right. It doesn't matter though, per regulation 3467 he's been sentenced to two months of baby rehabilitation warden. the DA has already approved and made it final." Daddy said. "Of course you can start a appeal but that will take 3-5 business days and my little guy here is about to make presents." "wait, how can it get approved if they don't even know who he is?" Deku asked. "I sent a picture of the big baby to be to the DA's office and they handled the rest." Daddy said cheerfully. "..Man I know he pissed off some of the DA last month when they tried to give him a lecture but.." Deku said and rubbed the back of his head. "oh so he's just a ray of sunshine for everyone huh?" any further conversation was drowned out as hearing how he might actually be stuck in baby land for two whole fucking months, Katsuki lost the battle of will's and the back of his massive diaper started to fill up. a little meter even appears as the mushy mess poured out of him, going from 'clean' to 'oppise poopise' in a matter of seconds and heading for 'whoa, stinky' at a alarming pace. "awwww see? I knew my little guy was backed up! Oh! Receiving data from the DA...Update file...There's my good little Katsuki! who's a good super pooper? and such a silly baby, trying to hide!" Daddy coo'ed and then two arms came out and dragged him out from his half way hidden spot under the crib. a rocking horse was moved over as Katsuki was picked up in the air and he shook his head no over and over, but was planted with a SQUISH anyways. "Ride'em cowboy!" Daddy encouraged and Katsuki lost it and was full on bawling, even as he was forced to rock back and forth.

One week later and Katsuki had semi gotten used to his new daily routine. it didn't mean he liked having to wear and use diapers or the stupid fucking baby food or formula..but after 3 days of being gagged except for when eating he'd learned to keep his opinions to himself. he was just a baby in daddy's eyes after all as he was reminded. He got used to the squishy warm wetness that came with a wet diaper though still bawled like..well a baby every time he pooped though he made a honest to god effort to load his diapers at least twice a day to avoid anther enema. Making things so much worse for poor Katsuki was the fact that somehow it'd gotten leaked where he was, though both the warden and Deku claimed it wasn't either of them, and as such other students from the school LOVED to come back and watch Katsuki in his baby punishment. Katsuki didn't even think they should of been able to get in but the bastard warden was handing out passes like candy on Halloween night. Still, Deku had promised he'd follow up on getting Katsuki's appeal put though and get him out, and he should be getting out either today or the next. Or so he thought till a sheepish and squirming Deku visited him. "Ummm.. Sooo I have some bad news." he said. "..Don't tell me they rejected the appeal!?!" Katsuki whimpered and whined. "Uh..yeah..see..It's a little bit worse then that. After reviewing the footage and all the facts..the judge decided that you not only deserve the two months in here..he..might a added 3 month on top." "WHAT!?! But..But..I..But.." Katsuki whimpered, plopping on his diapered behind and picking up a nearby stuffie, cuddling it. "T-That's..thats not fair!" "W-well he says as a hero in training..you need to be held to a higher standard..and thanked me for pushing so much on the appeal, he wouldn't of thought of it otherwise..soooo..uh..Sorry?" Deku squeaked out. "Your sorry? Your SORRY!? I'm the one who's gonna be crapping his pants for almost half a year and YOUR sorry!?!" Katsuki growled. "Little man.." Daddy warned. "uh..Katsuki..you might wan-" Deku started but Katsuki tossed the stuffie at the wall. "know what? FUCK IT! If I'm gonna be here and get a stupid diaper punishment I might as well fucking earn it. fuck YOU! fuck DADDY, and fu-" was as far as he got before the gag was popped back in. "I'm sorry Deku, somebody is cranky and need a little time out. please come back later." Daddy said. Not wanting to watch whatever punishment the blond was about to get, Deku nodded and walked away, wondering if he maybe should of mentioned that every time daddy was forced to punish Katsuki, the blond would get a week added. 'Nah..I'll just mention it to him tomorrow when I visit.'

the end?

[ratedbangtann]

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐥 𝐓𝐨𝐩 | 𝙎𝙚𝙤𝙠𝙟𝙞𝙣 𝙭 𝙋𝙡𝙪𝙨-𝙎𝙞𝙯𝙚 𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧 

𝚆𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝙹𝚒𝚗 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚜 𝚊 𝚐𝚒𝚛𝚕 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚜 𝚏𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚊𝚜 𝚖𝚞𝚌𝚑 𝚊𝚜 𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚘𝚎𝚜, 𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚊𝚗'𝚝 𝚋𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚎𝚟𝚎 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚕𝚞𝚌𝚔. 𝙷𝚎 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞...

                                     Pairing: Seokjin/Plus Size Reader Word count: 5k Warnings: feeding kink, playful sex, dom/sub, body worship, pussy slapping, fingering, unprotected sex 

a/n: another plus size fic for all y’all thiccccc queens. i hope you love it as much as i loved writing it. can’t you just see jin loving a chubby girl who loves food as much as he does? this is purely self-indulgent... 

                                    As if you weren't already rushing about and panicking enough, your hear your phone ding from beside the bathroom sink, a text message popping up.

Just got in a cab, see you in 15 xx

It was from Jin. And you were nowhere near ready.

In fact, you still had your leg propped up on the edge of the bath, desperately shaving every pesky little hair from every crack and crevice you possibly could. God, this would be so much easier if had less damn cracks and crevices in which to remove unwanted body hair from. This was possibly the only thing you hated about your damn curves; the upkeep.

"Shit, shit shit..." you muttered to yourself, carefully yet ferociously attacking yourself with your razor. As if by some miracle, you didn't catch your skin. Disaster averted.

You washed the remainder of shaving cream off your body and draped a towel around your shoulders. You didn't bother spending 10 minutes trying to tie it perfectly so that one, it stayed up and two, the inevitable gap in the fabric would cover up your modesty. Waste of time. You already had your outfit laid out; a nice red silk dress, a little higher than ankle length, that you felt hugged your curves perfectly and hid the 'problem areas' well. Not that you thought you had problem areas; you loved your damn body how it was. And why shouldn't you?

However, tonight was your first official date with Kim Seokjin; Korean super idol and self-proclaimed worldwide handsome. Quite how this came about, you're still not entirely sure. You knew him by name and face, working at his brother's side as head of marketing for their superior restaurant chain and of course, you had fallen under his ridiculously charming spell rather quickly - you were only human. But who asked who out still kind of remained a mystery...

You definitely remember him visiting the restaurant you held your office in a lot more after the first time he had met you. And you definitely remember you memorising his order to make sure it was already cooking when he was seated at his regular favourite table. And you remember casually joining him for food a few times, sort of like unofficial dates but...

When he had asked you if you wanted to try out a different kind of restaurant to "scope out the competition" - which actually was part of your job as head of marketing - you didn't quite catch on that he was asking you on a real, proper date. At least, not until this morning, when he had an obnoxiously large bouquet of assorted red flowers sent to your home address with a card that read,

Excited for this evening. Will you wear something red? KSJ xx

And so here you were, slithering your body into the red dress you had picked out. It was your favourite and clearly, the colour was Jin's. The rather suggestive slit in the side of the material showed just enough leg that you felt comfortable and hopefully put the idea of bare skin in Jin's mind.

Oh yes, tonight was about that. You were doing your utmost to bed Kim Seokjin. You had had enough of the flirting and the sideways glances. Enough of the brushing of hands and subtle little winks your way. You'd even almost kissed once, you're sure of it. Before Jin's brother knocked on your office door and interrupted a casual conversation laced with hidden meanings.

In your dress, you felt powerful. Really goddamn powerful, like no amount of music awards, album sales or video views was going to intimidate you tonight. That was, until you looked in the mirror.

The material didn't quite sit right around your tummy. It bunched where it shouldn't and highlighted the extra pounds you had.

Damnit, this is my only red dress, you thought to yourself.

And now, you faced a dilemma.

Wear the dress with the lingerie you had picked out, which was causing this bunching. This means that if the possibility of sex does arise, you will look more gorgeous out of the dress than in it.

or...

Wear your control top granny knickers that sucked you in just enough to stop the bunching of the material and look as slim and smooth as humanly possible, therefore enhancing the chances of said sex to begin with.

With minutes to spare, you didn't have time to pick out a new outfit, and it had to be red. It just had to. So, control top panties it was. If the sex happened, you'd just have to excuse yourself to "freshen up" before things got too hot and heavy. In fact, you hid the lingerie you had been wearing in the cupboard in your en suite.

With your heels on, your now smoothly flowing dress and your delicious curves protruding perfectly, you felt ready. Even your cleavage in the silk was looking particularly delectable. Just a few final touches to your hair in the mirror before the bell to your apartment rang out.

You picked up your purse and headed to the front door. When you opened it, there he stood, in all his handsome glory.

He was wearing a tux; crisp, black, simple and classic. His dark hair was styled off his forehead, just how you loved it and he was wearing the thin rimmed circular glasses that made him look smarter than any man you had dated before.

He didn't say anything at first, simply stared at you; your make up, your hair, that dress, your body... God, he loved it.

"You look... Wow. Suppose I won't be the best looking person in this restaurant tonight after all."

You giggled at that. Of course, he'd say that. How much cheesier could he be? How much more predictable? But you didn't care. It was one of the many reason you liked him so much.

"Maybe just the best looking male occupant of said restaurant?" You teased, soothing his bruised ego.

"I can live with that, for tonight," he held his arm out for you to thread yours around his elbow and escort you down to the waiting cab. As you closed your door and headed down the hallway to the elevator, Jin continued his teasing. "But this can't happen every night, okay? I'm willing to let you take the title tonight, but we gotta share in future. Deal?"

"I'll try my best," you smiled.

****

You meal was nice. No really, it was. The food was great, the atmosphere of the restaurant was great, but that's all it was; just nice. Because frankly, you couldn't concentrate on a damn thing with Kim Seokjin sat opposite you and quite clearly going out of his way to tease and flirt with you.

He sussed out very quickly that you had a thing for his lips, so plump and thick and you could only imagine what they would feel like against your skin. You couldn't stop staring and he noticed. Now that he knew this, or at least thought he did, he was playing up to it.

He'd bite down on it and hold eye contact with you while he did, or brush his fingers along them, or seductively take a mouthful of food from his chopsticks; how that is even possible you've no idea. Chopsticks make eating a little less elegant, and yet it absolutely didn't for him.

He played little games with you all evening, making little jokes, flirting away and the god damn lips thing.

So maybe, it was time to give him a taste of his own medicine.

Starting with the slit in your dress; you angled your body slightly, readjusting the way you were sat to show a little more of your upper thigh through that scrumptious slit in your dress. He noticed, and you noticed him noticing. His eyes were diverted to the bare skin you were showing off and his fumbled on the sentence he was halfway through.

You had to hold in a giggle, watching him unable to take his gaze away.

"Jin, may I ask you a... perhaps invasive question?" you cocked an eyebrow, waiting for his attention to draw back up to your eyes.

"Hmm? Oh, um... " he coughed - one of those cover-up coughs to disguise the fact he was openly staring at your bare thigh. "Sure, go ahead."

"Well, I'm clearly a woman with a few extra pounds, to be polite; inevitable really when you work in a restaurant chain and are surrounded by delicious and free food day in, day out. However, you still find me attractive?" His brows knit in confusion.

"Well, yes... Should I not?" Your heart leapt. Clearly, he wasn't as closed minded as the majority of Korean people about their standards of beauty. Beautiful face, beautiful mind... check and check.

"No, if you think I'm attractive then good; you have eyes," you mirrored his ego as best as you could. Yes you loved your figure but you were always still so... insecure underneath. He smirked at you though, buying your confidence and raised his glass to take a sip. "However, my question to you is," you leaned forward a little resting your chin on your hand supported by your elbow, your cleavage on display, "have you always had a thing for a fat girl?"

The liquid in his wine glass bubbled and splashed as he spluttered, choking in surprise. He tried to recover quickly, dabbing his mouth with his napkin. You giggled at the outburst and his attempt to keep calm, finding it oh so amusing.

"Apologies, I just, um... wasn't expecting-" You held a hand up to stop him.

"It's fine, I was just teasing," you picked your own napkin up, wiping away a droplet of wine from his glasses.

"I have though," he said, so casually as if he hadn't just almost drowned in his wine glass.

"Hmm?"

"Had a thing for fat girls, as you so affectionately put it," he smirked, biting his damn lip again.

"What, is fat a bad word?"

"Oh, no, I was just..." he panicked again. You laughed.

"Jin, shut up. 'Fat' isn't negative to me. It's what I am, not who I am. If you like your women to have that extra chub, then... lucky me," you raise your own wine glass to your lips, taking a sip with a little wink in his direction.

Jin felt a stirring in his trousers at the way you owned that word, the way you teased him, the way your red painted lips sipped at your wine. He'd been having trouble keeping his hands to himself all night, but ever the gentleman he kept it to a little light flirting. But there was never anything light about his flirting.

"Your confidence; it's extremely sexy, y/n." He leaned forward on his elbows.

"Don't mistake my acceptance of myself as confidence. I, too, still get discouraged day to day," you said, thinking back to earlier and seeing the way the dress hung on you to begin with.

"Don't we all?" he asked.

"Madam, sir... your desserts," you server appeared out of nowhere, a tray with your final courses balanced perfectly in his hand. "Classic tiramisu for the lady," he placed the dessert in front of you, "and green tea layer cake for the gentleman. Enjoy," he bowed as he placed Jin's dessert in front of him, scurrying away to leave the two of you by candlelight once again.

The two of you wasted no time in digging in, and with the first mouthful you fell into what can only be described as heaven. As the food melted on your tongue, you couldn't help but let out a small moan of approval.

Jin froze, watching you... Your moan caught his attention, the stirring in his trousers starting to bother him immensely. He loved food, but watching someone else love food... Someone like you; he couldn't control his urges much longer.

He started to tap his foot in annoyance, his knee bouncing. He became fidgety, wolfing down his cake quickly in an attempt to speed up the last few moments of the evening. He wanted nothing more than to take you home.

And you noticed all of it. So naturally, you played up to it.

"Oh god, it's so good..." you huffed, mouth half full. You scooped up another mouthful, holding it towards Jin, "Do you want to try?" you asked, innocently.

"No, thank you." His jaw clenched back into place. You were loving this.

You took the bite for him, letting out another approval moan and watching from under your lashes as his gaze lay intently on you and he adjusted the tightness of his tie to give himself more room to breathe.

As you neared the end of your dessert, Jin flagged down the server and impatiently asks for the bill. The server nods, scuttling away to bring over the leather wallet. Jin is already prepared with his card in his hand.

By the time you've finished up, dinner is paid for. You server clears the table and Jin, still remaining chivalrous, takes your hand to help you stand, places your purse over your shoulder and proceeds out of the restaurant with you in tow.

He hails for a cab, opening the door and letting you climb in first. The ride home, you chatter mindlessly with him, and although he seems interested his mind is wandering. His thigh is so close to yours, your interlocked hands sat just above the slit in your dress, so close to bare skin... He wants to touch, wants to feel how beautiful you are, not just see it.

The cab pulled up outside your apartment, and Jin paid the driver. You tried to pay, at least for something this evening but he wouldn't allow it.

The walk up to your apartment was quiet, your fingers still locked together affectionately, until you had to find your keys and unlock your door.

You turned around to face him, standing in the doorway. Jin made no effort to step inside or invite himself in; but you were about to do that for him.

"Thank you for a lovely meal, Seokjin," you smiled, leaning against the doorframe and looking up at him with a smile.

"My pleasure, y/n. Somewhere different to eat than the place you work, for a change," he smiled back, plunging his hands into the pockets of his slacks.

"It was a lovely place. Maybe we should do it again some time?"

"I'd like that, a lot."

A silence fell on you both as you watching him rock on the balls of his feet uncomfortably.

"Well, I'd better um... get going then," he leaned forward, planting a small and affectionate kiss on your cheek, but lingering as he pulled back.

His eyes darted down to your lips, contemplating. He wanted to, so bad. Did you want him to? Should he ask? Your eyes met, the tension between you feeling like static electricity.

Kiss me, Jin. Just kiss me. Kiss me, kiss me, kiss me! You hoped that perhaps he would be telepathic and hear you yelling at him with your mind. Perhaps he was...

His lips leaned in, the same lips you had been watching so closely all evening, and pressed to lightly on yours, testing the waters.

Almost immediately, you apply a little pressure to mould your lips together. You feel one of his hands tangle in your hair as you stand up straight, coming away from leaning against the doorframe. You place a hand on his chest, as he deepens the kiss with his free hand on your waist. The space between you is now minimal, Jin's broad shoulders and height almost engulfing you.

"Maybe you'd like to stay..." you said as you pulled away, looking up into his eyes. "For one last drink?" Jin only nodded, crushing his lips on yours and pushing you back into your apartment. He shut the door behind him, before resuming another very heated kiss.

"I-I don't have any wine in," you say, breathing heaving between kisses.

"I'm not thirsty," he confesses, continuing to back you into your apartment towards the door he assumed was your bedroom.

Along the way you shed him of his tuxedo jacket, the heavy material landing with a thud along the floor somewhere. You were working on his bow tie when the backs of your legs hit the bed. With the tie discarded you made light work of his shirt buttons, untucking it from his slacks but as you tried to pull it off him, he pushed your shoulders down. Your balance faltered and you hit the bed, Jin immediately between your legs and hovering above you, his bare chest inches away and his lips on your neck.

You had always loved neck kisses, the tickle of them so playful until he reached that weak spot where your neck met your shoulder. You let out a shaky breath, a small moan following much like the ones you made to tease him earlier.

His hand found its way to your thigh, slipping between the slit of your dress that he'd been eyeing up most of the evening. Finally, he could touch the skin, caress, stroke you and feel you. He slid his hand further up your thigh, wanting nothing more than to strip your clothing and get as close to you as humanly possible.

His fingertips grazed over the material of your underwear, the lycra of them somewhat unexpected to Jin.

"Hang on..." he says, a playful and yet confused tone to his voice. Realisation dawned on you as he rose to his knees attempting to lift the skit of your dress past your hips for a better look at what he had felt. You try to stop him, to push your dress back down but it's too late; it's around your hips.

You cheeks flush and you cover your face with your hands.

"What on earth are these?" he laughs, running his finger along the seem.

"No, I forgot I was- fuck! I was gonna change!"

"No, no, don't. I like them," he teases, pinging the waistband of your ridiculously huge control top panties against your stomach. You giggle, hiding your face out of embarrassment. "So sexy, y/n," he leans forward and kisses you again, grinding his hips against the lycra. The feeling sends a bolt of electricity through your spine, a gush of arousal forming at your core. "I'm sorry, but I have to have another look," he jokes, shuffling down again.

"No, stop!" you laugh, trying to pull him back up to you.

"No need to be embarrassed, darling. I'm wearing something quite similar myself." You laugh at his obvious lie. "Here look, I'll show you," he stands off the edge of the bed, kicking his shoes off and unzipping his slacks, pushing them down to reveal... completely normal boxer shorts.

"Liar!" you accuse, still giggling.

"Well, I suppose, but it got my trousers off..." he grins, diving towards you again and planting his lips along the cleavage above the bust of your dress. "So tell me..." he plants more kisses, "why were you wearing such enormous panties?"

"They're control top panties, Jin..." He plants more kisses across your chest. "My dress bunched around my tummy, so I wore them to flatten it down."

"Control top, eh?" he hovers over your face, smirking down at your through his glasses. "I consider myself to be quite the control top myself," his eyebrow lifts as his tone turns low and laced with filthy double entendre.

You have no time to respond to him, as he sits up to pull the enormous panties off you, sliding them down your legs followed by a trail of peppered kisses all the way down to your ankle, before he throws the panties across the room. His hands roam up your thighs, caressing the flesh and sliding up under your skirt to your hips, grabbing hold of your curves.

One hand moved down, towards where you needed him most. He traced a finger through your folds, feeling the wetness that had gathered at the excitement of previous actions. With his finger coated in your arousal, he brings it up to your lips and presses past them, making you taste yourself on his finger.

"So pretty," he almost whispers, before he's popping that finger out of your mouth and diving it back through your folds, circling over your swollen clit. Your chest heaves with the deep breaths you take to keep yourself calm, a groan slipping past your lips that Jin can't help but let get to him. His cock is practically twitching in his boxers, begging for contact but like he had said before; he was a control top, a dom. He wanted to get you worked up before he let his own desires take over.

"How does it feel, y/n? Hmm?" he asks, his lips hovering over yours as his finger work magic on your clit, swirling around and around... You don't answer, simply moan out another guttural moan that rocks through him.

Suddenly he lands his palm against your mound, slapping harshly. You cry out, the pain a sharp contrast to the bliss you were feeling before.

"How does it feel, y/n?" he asks again, resuming his earlier motions.

"S-so good.. It feels so good," you stutter.

"Good girl," he praises. He dips his finger further into your folds, toying with your entrance and slipping one finger down to the knuckle, before pulling out and assaulting your clit again. "What do you want, y/n? Tell me."

"Y-your fingers, Jin... Please, I-I need them inside," you squirm, breathes so shallow. He obliges, dipping two fingers into your pussy this time and curling them, hitting the spot inside that you needed the most. You cry out, the feeling too much.

"Would you like me to make you cum, y/n?" he asks, his fingers working miracles inside you. You fail to answer him again, moaning unintelligibly. This time his free hand slaps harshly at your thigh, making the chub jiggle and ripple and leaving a red hand print.

"Yes!" you yelped immediately, lovely the pain but wanting so badly to please, "Please, please... make me cum!"

"There, not so hard, is it?" he smirks, the pace of his fingers quickening. You feel a familiar heat building in your stomach, crawling up your body and flushing on your cheeks. You're moaning, but it's not enough for Jin. He wants you screaming, writhing under his touch.

Without taking his fingers out of you, he dips his head down, using his tongue to lap at the bundle of nerves he had slapped moments ago. The extra sensation coupled with the fingers he was abusing your cunt with felt incredible. Your body twisted against the mattress, Jin trying his best to keep you grounded with his spare hand.

"J-Jin... fuck, it feels good. Oh my GOD, it feel so, so good," you can't stop babbling, moans and groans erupting from deep within you. Whatever Jin was doing to you, it was nothing like any of the men you had slept with before. Nothing.

He uses his whole mouth on you, those plump lips, his tongue... And his fingers; he's been keeping up the pace, fiercely tapping and pumping against your walls.

You can feel it, the urge to tip over the edge, to let yourself be taken over with pleasure getting closer and closer, the tightness in your abdomen becoming excruciating. You're trying to hold off, for what you don't know, but it's getting increasingly difficult, until...

"What? What the hell?" Your head snaps up to see Jin grinning, licking the mess of you from his fingers and grinning as he does so. You were so close...

"Something the matter, sweetheart?"

"Why did you stop?" you ask, breathless. He smirks, leaning over you again to hover his lips above your own.

"Control..." he teased.

He stood up, removing his boxers, socks and the open shirt he had yet to take off, revealing himself in all his glory. Annoyingly, he had the chiseled body of a greek marble statue. One of those little self-conscious moments revealed itself to you as you looked at him; toned chest, taught abs, thick thighs and... well, an impressively large package.

Fuck it, you told yourself. He likes you. He likes your body. Let him see it. Let him fuck it.

You rolled the dress up past your hips where the skirt had bunched, lifting it over your breasts and head to throw it to one side. Just the strapless bra left, you unclasped it and threw that somewhere too, not caring where it landed.

"Wow..." he muses, licking his lips as his eyes scan over you; every curve, every roll, every bump... "Incredible."

"Then why are you still just staring?" you tease. You spread your legs for him, giving him the perfect view of what he wanted to take so badly. "Come and get me."

He wastes no more time, crawling over you and smashing his lips to yours. His teeth graze your lips, biting down on the bottom to force them open enough to push his tongue in. You can feel him, his cock brushing up against your glistening slit, your pussy aching at the denial of your orgasm.

"Ask me nicely..." he says between kisses, grinding his hips into you. He was completely in control, just how he liked it.

"Please, Jin..."

"What?"

"Please fuck me. I need it." You really did.

Jin snaked a hand around his length, positioning himself to line up with your entrance before slowly, pushing into you until his hips met yours, skin on skin.

"Shit," he hisses, relishing in the warm, wet feeling of you stretching around him. That first thrust is always his favourite, he savours it every time.

Soon he starts thrusting his hips slowly into you, filling you so well you groan at the feeling. His fingers start to dig in to your hips, his nails scratching at the skin. It feels so good, the mixture of pain and pleasure something that you made a note to yourself to explore more with Jin in future.

With every thrust he's brushing up again that spot he found inside you, that familiar tightness growing in your stomach once again. You prayed this time he would let you cum; one denial was enough, surely?

With every thrust, your resolve weakened further and further.

"Oh, fuck... y/n," he groaned, sweat forming on his brow and chest. "You're amazing, god the way you jiggle as I fuck you... I love it," he spoke through gritted teeth, pleasure and lust overwhelming him all at one. "You're so beautiful, so so beautiful..." One hand caressed your cheek, pushing a strand of hair away from your face that had stuck to you with sweat.

"J-Jin... it feels so... ah!" he thrusts particularly hard, making you cry out.

"D-do you know how long I wanted this, y/n? How long I waited to ask you out?" he asks, his hips wildly pounding into yours, skin slapping on skin.

"J-Jin, I'm gonna..."

"Not yet... wait," he scorns, "Months, I waited to ask you out. I was... so busy, the band... oh fuck, I thought about you all the time. All the fucking time," he groaned, his own end getting closer and closer...

"J-Jin, please... can I cum...?" you sob, tears forming at the edges of your eyes. You're sure your make up has smudged but what kind of fucks did you give right now, with a man like Kim Seokjin filling you up?

"Cum for me, baby. Cum on me..." he commanded. Another few hard thrusts, and you did just that.

Clenching your walls against his cock, your orgasm rocketed through your body like a chemical reaction; fast and explosive. Your muscles convulsed as you squeezed your eyes shut tight, crying out an unintelligible string of expletives. Jin held your thighs close to his hips, still thrusting his hips to guide you through it. He made sure that you felt everything; every oversensitive little spark, every thrust of his hips. He needed you to feel as much as you possibly could.

But he was losing control of himself too, watching you hit every high you could. He'd never been so turned on, never felt so good as you clenched around him and writhed in front of him, squeezing your thighs against him as he pulled you as close as he could.

Just as you were starting to come down, his orgasm raged through him. Hot, white strings of cum erupted from him, filling you up as he lost his rhythm. His thrusts were as hard as he could make them, the strength spilling from his body whilst his body performed its own chemical reaction.

The both of you came down together, out of breath, sweaty and totally exhausted. He collapsed onto you, burying his head in your cleavage and hiding his face as he caught his breath. You giggled, looking at him through your fucked out eyes laying sprawled out on you. Both your bodies were hot and sweaty, but Jin found comfort in the extra pounds you had.

"God, you're so soft..." he groans, nestling into you.

"J-Jin, can you get off my tits?" you giggled, pushing him to lay next to you rather than on you. You were far too hot for that right now. Far too sweaty...

"Sorry... so comfy..." his controlling mannerisms seems to have ejected from his body the second his cum did. Now, he was acting a fool again, the playful and stupid Jin you first started crushing on.

"You're cute," you giggle, turning onto your side to face him.

"You're beautiful," he grinned, completely silly and yet completely sincere. "I meant it you know. I have wanted to ask you out for so long. You're just... perfect, y/n."

"Hmmm, yeah. I am perfect," you grin. "But you, Mr. Kim, are the eighth damn wonder of the world." He laughs at that.

"Am I that good in bed, huh?" he joked.

"Absolutely," you grinned, placing a kiss on his lips.

"I'm glad you think so," he sat up, pulling you until you lay over him, straddling his hips. "Because I'm just getting started..."

[gabriel-agreste-has-no-rights]

Rating: G

Chapter Summary: Nathalie and co. crash the party. This time, Alya is the one with the backup plan. Meanwhile, Ladybug and Adrien are both stupidly in love.

Word Count:  4294 | Chapter 4/4

Notes: Last chapter of the fic for @marinetteplztakeabreak commissioned through @mlbforblm!  The drive is over, but please check out the blog to see what everyone else has created and how to stay involved!

XXX

“I am telling you!  If you did not RSVP, you do not come in!  That is the rules!”  Philippe spread his arms wide, blocking the entrance to the rink.  Nino could barely see him through the crack in the double doors.  Philippe was a cool dude, but he wouldn’t last long against Nathalie, Adrien’s bodyguard, and tablet-Gabe himself.

Nino was tempted to go out there and turn the tablet’s power off, just to see what Nathalie would do.  But he didn’t want to get Adrien grounded for the next millennium.

Plus, he wasn’t supposed to be seen at all.  Kagami and Wayhem were on stalling duty with Philippe.  Nino just had to make sure that Nathalie wouldn’t find any trace of Adrien when she eventually forced her way in.

“They’re gone.  Finally.”  Chloé reported.

Nino nodded.  He’d seen a red blur leave through the window.

“Rose, Juleka, and I hid the presents behind the skate rental booth,” Alya said.  “Kim ate the rest of the cake, and Luka took XY to make out in the bathroom.  That should cover all the loose ends.”

“Why are you telling us that?”  Chloé gagged, and Alya rolled her eyes.

“Because XY’s obviously the weakest link here.  You said you caught him posting photos on Insta, right?”

“I did.  It’s a good thing you put me on the job.”  She flipped her hair.

Not that it mattered in the end, because Nathalie had found them anyway.  But the rink looked about as innocent as it could get.  With the presents hidden, the laser lights turned off, and generic pop music playing, they could’ve been a bunch of dudes on a regular Friday evening.

“Anyway, we’ll all be safer if XY isn’t here to spill our secrets for a little while.  You better go too, babe,” Alya said, squeezing Nino’s hand.  

“Go where?  Apparently Luka and XY called dibs on the bathroom.”  Besides, he’d planned this party, and he was going to see it through.  It was time to break his three-year-long failure streak.

Alya sighed.  “I’ll be ready to pay your bail, then.”

He gave a weak grin.  Like Adrien, he was still seventeen.  They couldn’t actually arrest him, right?

Considering the Agrestes were loaded, he wouldn’t take his chances.

The doors opened.  Nino did his best not to scowl at Gabriel’s face on the tablet.

“What gives?”  He asked, pretending like he hadn’t put weeks of planning into this moment.  “Did you get mad we didn’t invite you to our sweet party?”

“So you admit it,” Gabe said coldly from the screen.  Nathalie remained as still as a statue, like she was only there to display her boss’ face.  It was pretty creepy, honestly.  Adrien’s bodyguard was normally silent anyway, so that wasn’t as unnerving.

“Admit what?  That we know how to have a rad time, and you don’t?”  Nino put his hands on his hips.  His tone might be pushing it, but if he acted too nice, Gabe would never buy it.

“That you threw a birthday party for dsfkslksdkfklfdfk when I have repeatedly sdlfdsfsllkdf express disapproval.”  Gabriel’s face glitched out a few times, his voice blurring to something like a keysmash.  

Nino bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing.  Man, he owed Max big time for this.

“Birthday party?”  Wayhem frowned.  He was a better actor than most of them.  “I didn’t hear anything about a birthday.”

“Today is my son’s sdsaskdlfirthday.”

Wayhem’s head tilted.  “You have a son?”

Nino choked.  Okay, maybe Wayhem was trying too hard, but the look on tablet-Gabe’s face was priceless.  If only he could convince Nathalie to take a screenshot.

“It’s Adrien’s birthday, dude.”  Nino punched Wayhem’s arm.  “We just couldn’t invite him, remember?  ‘Cause his dad’s a buzzkill.”

“I took him out for birthday orange juice to cheer him up,” Kagami told Wayhem, but her words were really directed towards Gabriel.  “A poor substitute for a party, but it was the best I could do.”

Gabriel’s eyes flickered, as if scanning as much of the rink as his screen would allow.

“Search the area.”

Adrien’s bodyguard nodded once, not that Gabe could see him from his angle.  Then he went off to inspect the rows of chairs.  At least he wasn’t starting with the skate rental booth.

“Be careful with my rink!  Don’t step on the ice without proper skating equipment!”  Philippe shouted.  

“Weren’t you listening?  He’s not here, dude—sir,” Nino corrected.  Not that it mattered much.  He’d already been as disrespectful as he dared. 

Gabe’s face glitched again.  “Where is my son now, then?”

Alya shrugged.  “Probably on his way home, right?”

“Alone?”  He practically snarled.  The tablet froze for a moment, catching his mouth open in an unflattering frame.  Maybe Nino could sneak his phone out and take a picture if he couldn’t get a real screenshot.  “Why wouldn’t he call his bodyguard?  Have you all dslkfddfsjljfdls irresponsible—”

“He’s with Ladybug, dude,” Nino interrupted.  Adrien’s bodyguard was getting close to the skates; he couldn’t afford to stall too long.  “He can’t get safer than that.”

For some reason, that only seemed to make Gabe seethe more.  But a neutral expression quickly replaced it, so maybe Nino was just imagining things.

“If sdlfkdfs your idea of a trick, you’ll have to—”

Kagami’s phone dinged.  Silently, she held up her screen to the tablet.  Nino couldn’t see what it showed, but Gabe’s mouth finally shut.

“Nathalie.  Return home at once and sdlfjkdssdls Ladybug has delivered my son safely.”

Nathalie’s expression changed for the first time, her eyes widening.  “But, sir, aren’t you already at—”

“Kskdlfskfl at once.”  The screen went dark.

Nathalie sighed, like Gabriel had taken the last bit of her composure with him. 

“Enjoy your not-birthday party,” she said in monotone before exiting the rink, her heels clicking against the concrete floor with each step.

Adrien’s bodyguard jogged after her.  His face was bright pink—he’d just come out from investigating the boy’s bathroom.  XY must have been useful after all.

Nino whistled once the adults were gone.  “What did you show her?”

Kagami held up her phone for him.  Adrien’s face was squished next to Ladybug’s in a selfie he’d posted to Instagram.  Her smile looked a little more hysteric than Alya’s Ladyblog photos could capture.  Actually, it looked kind of familiar.

But Nino didn’t think too hard about that, considering the caption Adrien had typed.

Escorted home by my favorite superhero!  I couldn’t ask for a more miraculous birthday present!! <3

If Ladybug looked awkward, it was probably just embarrassment at how cheesy he was.

“How did you get that so fast?”  Nino frowned.

“I messaged Adrien while you were stalling.  Unfortunately, he’ll have to return home to maintain the illusion.”  Her brows pulled into a scowl.  “I should have created a contingency plan for this.”

“What?”  Kim shouted.  “But I haven’t even won my bet!”

Alix cackled and stretched out her hand.  “Pay up, loser.”

Juleka ran her fingers comfortingly through Rose’s hair.  Max frowned down at his computer screen.  Others were murmuring to each other, looking downcast.  All of them knew how much work Nino and Kagami had put into this party.  All of them knew how much it meant to Adrien.

“Come on, we’re not giving up that easily!” Nino insisted.  “There’s gotta be some way to keep fooling Nathalie.  What if Max hacks the sound system again?  We can make it sound like he’s in bed snoring, or something.”

“Guys?”  Alya stepped up, waving her phone at the two of them.  “I have a better idea.”

XXX

Marinette.exe had stopped working.  Thankfully, Ladybug.exe could still run on backup power.  She tried to keep her cool as she swung them up onto the roof of the rink.

“Wait,” Adrien said before she could cast out her yo-yo again.  His breath was close to her neck, ruffling her pigtails. She did her best not to shiver.

“We need to get you away from here. Just in case,” Marinette said.  The silver limo was still parked below, but she had no idea how long it would take for Nathalie and Adrien’s bodyguard to leave the rink.

“They won't see us up here.  I can’t leave without making sure Nino is okay.  Last year, my father almost got him arrested.”

Marinette winced.  Of course, Adrien didn’t know that “Ladybug” was there for his previous almost-birthday-party, close enough to see the bruises on Nino’s arm.

“I hope he’s alright too,” she said quietly before gently setting him on his feet.  His arms were still secure around her neck, and his ring was a shock of cold where it brushed her skin.

His ring.  She’d never seen him without it.

“I—sorry!”  Adrien practically yelped when she did shiver.  His arms slapped back to his sides.

She couldn’t do anything but stare as red spilled across his cheeks.  It was him.  It had to be him.

Ladybug.exe was beginning to shut down too.  Maybe Max could reinstall her software.

“Ladybug?”  Adrien swallowed.  “We should probably hide a little bit better…”

“R-right!”

She let him pull her flat against the roof.  They laid there on their stomachs, her arm pressed to his, their fingers still twined together.  His silver ring gleamed against the red of her suit.

How was she supposed to breach the subject?  “Oh, by the way, I know you’re Chat Noir?”  It was his birthday.  He deserved a perfect identity reveal, not just her stupidly blurting whatever came into her head.  

His phone beeped, startling her.

“Sorry.  Kagami said to keep my ringer on in case of an emergency.”  He fished the phone from his pocket and set it on the roof.  They were close enough for Marinette to see the message from Kagami on his screen.

“She needs us to take a selfie?”  Her brow furrowed.

Adrien shrugged.  “It must be important.”

They sat up, still holding hands.  Her blush probably matched his by now, but if he hadn’t let go, why should she?

She shuffled closer to him, until her chin was resting over his shoulder.  Just so they would both fit in the camera frame, of course.  Not because she wanted to press her cheek to his, feel his blush on her skin.

Yeah, she wasn’t kidding anyone.  Except maybe him.

“Smile!”  He said, holding up his phone.

As if she could not smile when breathing in his radiant, carefree, dreamy scent.  When she knew more than ever that they were made for each other.

Her grin still looked a bit too wide in the photo, not like his perfect, brilliant smile.

“You’re still that happy?”  She couldn’t help blurting.  She had his model smiles memorized.  This wasn’t one of them.  It was too genuine, much more so than her tense grin.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”  He looked up from where he was typing out a caption.  “I get to spend my birthday with my—with my favorite superhero.”  His smile twitched, almost becoming a familiar smirk. 

She blushed, even though Chat Noir had said more flirtatious things to her than that.

“But your party might be over.  You didn’t even get to open presents.”  Which reminded her, she still had his present in her yo-yo.  Now didn’t feel like the right time to give it to him, though.

“The best present is how much my friends thought of me.”  He squeezed her hand.  “And I wouldn’t worry yet.  Nino and Kagami probably have a plan for this.”

His phone rang.  Nino or Kagami already?  Was the coast clear?

But the contact on the screen wasn’t either of them.

“Alya?”  Adrien asked after picking up.  “Is everything okay?  Nino didn’t do anything crazy, did he?”

Marinette strained to pick out what Alya was saying on the other end, but it was too muffled.  Adrien’s eyes widened.

“Uh…” To her surprise, he held out the phone to her.  “Alya wants to talk to you.”

Marinette blinked before holding the phone to her ear.  “Hello?”

Alya didn’t waste time with introductions.  “Sorry to interrupt your date, but I know a way we can save Adrien’s party.  Can I borrow the fox miraculous again?”

XXX

Alya played a few notes on her flute, and brilliant light streamed from the end.  It coalesced into Adrien’s sleeping form, nestled beneath the covers.  So realistic.  His back even rose and fell with the illusion of breath.

“Amazing,”  Marinette whispered as she crouched in Adrien’s windowsill.  She tried not to fidget as she kept lookout—not that Nathalie should show up anytime soon.  Even though Marinette had stopped to pick up Alya’s miraculous, they’d easily left the Agreste limo behind in the Friday evening traffic. 

Alya strapped her flute to her back and nodded.  “Probably a waste of effort.  I doubt Nathalie will even pay attention.”

Marinette sighed.  She was probably right.  If only she could take Adrien away for longer than one evening, one birthday party…

Soon.  Even if Adrien had to spend his days here, she would make sure his nights were full of freedom and laughter.  

Full of love.

Just as soon as she found out the best way to reveal her identity.  It was only fair, now that she’d figured out his.  And then everything would be perfect, and they’d go on dates in the park, and she’d sew him sweaters to wear over his suit, and he’d crack puns and she’d pun back, and— 

“You alright there, Ladybug?”  The faux eyebrows on Alya’s mask drew together.

“Yep!  Doing great!”  She grinned, face heating.  She had to be careful.  If she daydreamed too much in front of Alya, her friend might puzzle out her identity, too.

“We better go then.  Don’t want to leave your boyfriend waiting.”  She winked.

Marinette gaped.  “What?  He’s not—I mean, I wouldn’t mind if he was, but—”

She couldn’t date Adrien as Ladybug.  She’d known that even before she agreed to come suited up to his party.  But she hadn’t realized just how much of a mess it would be if Alya thought Ladybug was dating Adrien, and then Marinette showed up with him at school.

“It’s okay.  Practically everyone’s had a crush on Adrien at some point.  But Ladybug?”  Alya stepped close, then swung her legs over the windowsill so they were sitting side by side. “If you really want to be with him, you’d better love him, okay?  At least as much as my best friend does.  And I’m not sure that’s possible.”

Her face heated, but from what?  Embarrassment?  Intimidation?  She was being ridiculous.  Alya was comparing her to herself!

“I—I promise I’ll take his feelings seriously,” she said quietly.

Alya nodded.  “Well then, let’s go.”

With that, she leapt off for the next rooftop.  Marinette lagged behind for just a moment, though, glancing back at the illusory Adrien.

“He means everything to me.”

XXX

Adrien paced on the roof after Ladybug left.  He wasn’t sure what she was doing with Alya, or how they were going to keep Nathalie from realizing he wasn’t in his room.  She was Ladybug.  She always had a plan.

He did kind of wish she’d remembered to take him back inside first, though.

“So you’re just gonna sit out here?  You’re missing your own party!”  Plagg said, flying out of his hoodie.

“It’s alright.”  He swung his legs over the edge of the roof, kicking slowly back and forth.  The party had been amazing, and while he did want to be back inside, this was nice too.  The evening air, the bright moon, the phantom memory of Ladybug’s hand in his.

Did she actually like him?  Him?  No way.  She’d said she didn’t want to kiss him, and she’d acted a little bit off all night.

Maybe that was why he waited up here, rather than transforming and climbing down.  Somehow, he felt that if he could see her just one more time, he’d be able to understand.

His phone beeped.  He checked it immediately, heart pounding.  Was Ladybug okay?  Had her and Alya’s mysterious plan failed?

No.  It was Kagami, just checking on him.  He breathed a sigh of relief and began typing a reply.

“Boring.”  Plagg sighed.  “Wake me up when we get back inside.  I didn’t even get the chance to check out the cheese table.”

Adrien smiled and patted him as he snuggled back in the hoodie pocket.

I’ll be back soon, he typed.  Just waiting on Ladybug.

She left you up there?  Kagami sent back.  I’ll come get you.  Philippe is showing me a way up.

His eyes widened.  That fast?  Well, Kagami was never one to hesitate.

He didn’t even have time to write a reply before Philippe’s head poked up through a hidden trap door.

“Ah, there you are!  The man of the hour!”  He smiled.  “Your friend is looking for you.  She’s waiting below.”

“Thanks.  I’ll be down in just a second.”  He waved back, then turned his gaze to the horizon.

“Don’t take too long.  She’s very concerned about you.”

Kagami was always looking out for him.  It warmed his heart, even as he felt guilty for missing the party she’d planned.

“I won’t; don’t worry.”

Philippe disappeared down the hatch, and sure enough, Ladybug didn’t keep him waiting much longer either.  She dropped Alya off at the front door before swinging up onto the roof.

“You should be safe now,” she said with a smile.  “Your father will never know you’re here.”

He smiled back, suddenly overwhelmed with just how much he loved this girl.  Not only had she come to his party, she’d gone out of her way to make sure he didn’t get in trouble.  

Of course, Alya had helped with that too.  He’d have to thank her when he got back inside.

“Thank you, Ladybug.”  He fought back the urge to take her hand again.  He didn’t have an excuse this time.  Besides, he was around her all the time as Chat Noir; he should have enough practice keeping his hands to himself.

She just smiled back, looking as strained as before, like a balloon about to burst.

“Are you okay?”  He asked, reaching out vaguely before letting his arm fall back to his side.  Hands to himself.

Because she didn’t like him.  Probably.  Even if his love was like a drum beating its way out of his chest, so loud she’d have to be deaf to ignore it.

She laughed with her head in her hands.  “Why does everyone keep asking that?”  

“Um… because you’ve been acting a little bit weird all night, and if I did anything to make you uncomfortable, I want to be able to fix it.”

“You?”  Her head popped back up, revealing wide eyes.  “Worried about making me uncomfortable?”

“Uh… yeah?”  He wasn’t suited up, and “Adrien” didn’t have years of familiarity to fall back on.  Each casual touch could be misconstrued.

This time, her laugh was real, echoing over the traffic below.

“You’re too nice, you know that?”  She finally said.

“Um… thanks?”

Real eloquent, Adrien.  He was pretty sure he’d started the last three sentences with some variation of uh.

“I mean it.  You’re always too nice, and you’re always here for me, and I—I can’t believe I didn’t see it sooner.” She hiccuped, and—and was she crying?  

“My—” he cut off before he could say my lady. 

But she just smiled, even as tears trickled down her mask.

“Your lady.  Yeah.”  She giggled, though a wet sniffle interrupted it.  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to get all emotional.  I planned out a whole speech on the way over, and then I saw you and it just—woosh!  Gone.” 

Your lady.  His… but then she…?

“You’re so cute when you figure things out,” she said, reaching out to take his hand.  “I hope you’re not disappointed.  I wanted to give you a more dramatic reveal, but I—I just love you so much, aaaaaaand I wasn’t supposed to say that yet either.”

She smacked her forehead with her free hand.  He was still gaping, his soul practically leaving his body.

“How could I ever be disappointed with that?”  He breathed, looking between her eyes and their joined hands.  He gave hers an experimental squeeze, and found that she squeezed back.  Sparks went off from his fingers to his toes.  “My Lady, this is the best birthday present ever.”

That was a lie.  She threw her arms around him, and that was the best present ever.  Every heartbeat was better, and better, and soon he was laughing and breathing in the scent of her hair, and she was laughing back and squeezing him so tight he could burst.

“I love you too,” he said against her neck.  “Obviously.” 

“Obviously,” she huffed.  “It wasn’t obvious to me.”

“Well, I’ll make sure it will be from now on.”  He pulled back just enough to rest his forehead against hers, to stare into her eyes.  A few freckles spilled out from under her mask.  He’d never been close enough to see those before.

“I’d appreciate that.”

He could’ve asked when, or how, or why she’d fallen for him.  What happened to the other boy she used to talk about? 

But that all faded in the face of her lips brushing his.  Hesitant at first, then wanting, needing.  This was better than anything he could’ve asked for.  A giddy laugh burst from his lungs to hers, and she pulled back.

“Sorry,” he said sheepishly.  You probably weren’t supposed to laugh in someone’s mouth while you were kissing them.  “I got a little too excited.”

“Adrien.”  She cupped his cheek in her palm.  “Never feel sorry for being happy.  Or excited.  I’m so excited I could die right now.”

“Please don’t.”

She chuckled.  “Anyway, as much as I just want to keep kissing you, I should probably give you your real birthday present.”

He blinked.  If she had more in mind for him than that, he might actually die.

She flipped open her yo-yo and pulled something from inside.  A little vial?

“I remembered you saying that you hated Adrien: the Fragrance,” she started, rolling the glass between her fingers. A pinkish liquid sloshed inside.  “So I found out some scents that you like, and I put something together.  Making cologne is a lot like making the potions for our kwamis.”

“You… made this?”  He accepted the bottle, unscrewing the top to take a whiff.  It did smell wonderful.  Like roses and strawberries, with just a hint of rain.  Was it magical, like the potions she could create?  “This is amazing, my Lady.  But… when did I tell you I hated the fragrance they made me advertise?”

She smiled.  “That’s the other part of your present.”

His eyebrows creased, but before he could ask for clarification, she whispered, “Tikki, spots off.”

He stared wide-eyed as pink light washed over her.  When the sparkles faded, he gasped.

“Marinette.”  Her name tasted sweeter than the smells she’d mixed just for him.  “Marinette.”

He couldn’t say anything else.  His face was sore from smiling so much, but he couldn’t stop.  Ladybug was Marinette, and she loved him!

“That makes sense,” a voice said from behind him.  He almost screamed, but Ladybug—Marinette—slapped a hand over his mouth first.

“Kagami?”  She gaped.  Her hand fell from Adrien’s face, giving him room to turn around.  “What—what are you doing up here?”

Kagami crossed her arms over the lip of the trap door.  “Adrien didn’t come down.  Philippe told you not to take too long.  But I understand why you did.”  She nodded, as if thinking to herself.  

Adrien locked frantic eyes with Marinette.  Just because she was okay with revealing her identity to Chat Noir didn’t mean she’d be okay with Kagami knowing too.

“You… um… so how much did you…?”  He trailed off.

“I was waiting for you to finish kissing.  I’m told it’s impolite to interrupt.”

His eyes widened.  She’d been watching for that long?  He hoped she wasn’t upset.  Even if she didn’t like him romantically, it might still be awkward to watch him kiss someone else.

Marinette was bright red, but she cleared her throat.  “You won’t tell anyone, will you?”

“About your secret identity, or about kissing Adrien?”

“My identity,” she said quickly, looking more and more mortified by the second.

Kagami grinned.  It was a rare expression on her, but all the more special for it.  “I was only teasing.  Of course I will guard your identity with my life.”

Marinette smiled gratefully.  “Thank you, Kagami.”

“You’re welcome.  I’ll tell the others Ladybug dropped you off, so you were able to make it after all.”  She took a step down the ladder, before pausing and poking her head back up.  “And Marinette?  Thank you for taking care of him.”

“Of course.  He means everything to me.”

His heart warmed at the praise, at the way she said it so matter-of-factly.  

Kagami disappeared back down the ladder, leaving him and Marinette in silence that somehow felt both comfortable and vaguely awkward.

“So, uh… you don’t mind if people know that we kissed?”  He asked cautiously.

That finally made her laugh again.  “Of course not.  I was… well, I was hoping you were going to be my boyfriend.”

“Yes,” he said quickly, as if she’d change her mind.  “I mean—please let me be your boyfriend.  That would be the best birthday present ever.”

She took his hand again and squeezed it tenderly before slipping his cologne vial into his hoodie pocket.  He’d dropped it at some point while they were kissing.  Plagg, blessedly, did not complain, even though the little bottle probably bonked him on the head.

“Then happy birthday, boyfriend.”