#Just give me garlic bread already PLEASE it's SO much better than appearing in a video

[kooky-exists]

If I ever appear in some video I wonder how I'd be voiced. What gender, accent, or pitch would I be given? Would it be a serious person or just a silly lil guy? I don't know, and I don't care! Give me garlic bread instead.

[melancholymetropolis]

No Idea

Pairings: Athlete!Kirishima x PlusSize!Reader

Summary: College AU The reader is Kirishima's History tutor and they kinda have a crush on each other. It takes an afterparty filled with horny guys and a skin-tight dress for Kiri to realize he wants them all to himself.

Warning: Do I even need to say it at this point? It's smut, obvi. Kinda unedited. The reader and her best friend are black. Kirishima is a football player; he's VERY possessive over the reader. Her best friend is a little gay for her as well.

Author's Note: This was a commission!!!!! The client gave me this insane prompt and I had no choice but to go over the word limit. If you want to commission me, click here! Your support really means the world to me. Enjoy!

Word Count: 5,300

“You’re back early!” My roommate, Liza, yelled from the other side of the apartment-style dorm room. The sound of her chair scraping the floor followed shortly after, along with the light footsteps of her sock-clad feet. “I left you a plate in the microwave, in case you were hungry. I could heat it up, if you’re too tired— why the long face? What happened?”

“He didn’t show up,” I sighed as I dropped my books on the table and sank into a chair.

“How can he not show up?” Liza fumed crossing her arms. “His GPA is already in the gutter from all the other quizzes he seemed to fail before the semester even started.”

“I know,” I replied in a bored tone.

“He’s on academic probation—”

“I know.”

“One more hiccup and he’ll be off the football team—”

“I know.”

“Not to mention how you practically have to bend backward to make time for him—”

“Mhm.”

“Just for him to flake on you for the third time! I just—”

“Liza, please,” I rose from my seat and stood in front of her. “You don’t have to be angry with me. It’s truly okay.”

“No! It’s not okay!” She stormed to the microwave and pulled the cover plate from the inside. She removed the foil and pushed it back into the device, before pressing the start button four times. She turns to face me and forces an angered sigh from her lips. “He likes you, you know that right?”

I lifted my books from the table and walked to our shared room. I took in the words that she threw at me with each step and digested them. Kirishima liked me. It wasn’t as though I didn’t have an inkling that he may be, sorta found me attractive. Although I wore glasses, I wasn’t blind. At least with them on. I saw the way he looked at me when we were less than a foot apart. Shoulders practically touching as we slouched over the Advanced American History textbook. Our hands brushing against each other’s ever so often. The sparkle in his eye when he looked at me longer than a few seconds; the blush on his cheeks when I smiled at his corny jokes. His persistent tendency to walk me home, although most times, we finished our study sessions just before dusk. The way he stayed glued to my side during the journey to my dorm. How he’d carry my books on the way. I noticed it all and practically welcomed it, since I too found him attractive. The spiky redhead just had a way of making everyone swoon over him. Kirishima was genuinely a nice person, not because there was something in it for him, but just because.

The beeping from the microwave brought me back to reality. I placed the textbooks on the designated space on the shelf and fixed my scattered stationery from that morning. Liza shuffled in with a bowl of baked fetta pasta, and a piece of toasted garlic bread a few minutes later. She placed the bowl on the desk, with a fork, a can of sparkling soda, and my favorite metal straw.

“What did I do to deserve you?” I said with a tired smile.

“Helped me pass ‘Text and Ideas’ with an A-,” Liza smiled back and placed a hand on my shoulder.

“Oh right,” I took a seat at the desk and forked the starchy dish in my mouth. “This is heaven-sent.”

“I knew you’d like it!” She deemed walking to her own desk. “I got the recipe from tiktok.”

I hum in response and continued to stuff my face. After a few minutes of silence, I grab the phone from my back pocket and unlocked it. A new message from Kirishima was the newest notification from many and it said:

Hey, I am sorry for not showing up. My teammate got shitfaced and decided to take a dive into the fountain. It took three of us to pull him out. It sucks because I was really looking forward to seeing you.

Since my mouth had already filled to its brink with pasta, I opted for a tight-lipped smirk instead of a toothy one. Kirishima all but admitted that he missed me. My hunch was right: the feelings are mutual. I swallowed the pasta and swiveled around in my chair to look at Liza. Her eyes were glued to her phone, but she snapped her head up to laugh at the content on her screen. Once she was down laughing, I picked my phone up and pointed it in her general direction. Reaching forward, she grasped the device and quickly read the message.

“Don’t respond to him,” she said, handing the phone back to me.

“Why? I thought you were shipping us together?” I asked whilst forking more pasta in my mouth.

“That’s why I’m telling you what I am telling you!” Liza rose to her feet and in a split second, she stood in front of me with a sickening smile.

“I am afraid to ask,” I said with a sigh.

“You don’t have to; I’m gonna tell you anyway,” she squats between my legs and widens her smile. “That boy is already wrapped around your finger, all you need to do is pull away. Just a tiny bit and he’ll come running.”

“Liza. . .”

“Hear me out!” She rose to her feet again and walked to the closet. “Remember when I went thrift shopping last week and I picked up that cute bodycon dress?”

“Yeah. . . ?”

“Well, I washed it and realized that it didn’t have the BODY to fill it out properly.” She pulls the dress from the closet and turns back to me. “And since the Homecoming Afterparty is at the Quarterback's house tomorrow night, I thought it would be the perfect time for you to wear it.”

I eye the dress, taking in its extremely short length and strappy detailing on the front. One wrong move and my breasts would spill right out of it. But, one right move would have them fall onto Kiri’s lap. I tried my best to list the pros and cons of the situation. Pondering what I could get out of the ordeal going to the lion’s den dressed as a gazelle. Yet, all I could imagine was me twerking on someone’s son and taking him home afterward.

💘🖤💘🖤

The dress fit like a glove: perfectly tight, almost like a second skin, but very breathable. I paired it with some hoop earrings, a few bangles on each wrist, and 3-inch kitten heels. My goal was to dress to impress, not nurse my aching arches by the end of the night. The entire ride over to the nicer part of town was nerve-wracking, for one, the Uber driver wouldn’t stop staring at my cleavage from the driver’s mirror. And, secondly, Liza practically had phone sex with her boyfriend, who was going to meet us at the party. I stared down at my phone the whole time, rereading Kiri’s message and the ones he sent afterward. It was true, he was wrapped around my finger. He didn’t double text; Kirishima sent five messages in a row.

Hey, are you free tomorrow? I wanted to talk about yesterday.

I’ll buy you that weird thing you like from Starbucks.

The drink you said that tastes like the moon.`

And I’ll get you those cake pop things.

My heart couldn’t help but flutter; I didn’t know he was paying that much attention to me. I only mentioned that Starbucks drink once in his presence, quite a while ago. It had to be a little over a month ago, yet he still remembered.

The car stopped and Liza popped right out. Her 34 inch Brazilian, straight swaying behind her as she closes the door. Still chatting with her boyfriend, she motions me out of the car with an eager smile. Reluctantly, I detach myself from the cool leather and tug on my dress as I closed the door behind me. I looked up toward the mansion before me, white paint and overwhelming size almost frightened me. But, when I saw a familiar, spiky-haired, redhead, all my potential fear left my body and warmth replaced it.

Kirishima’s back was to me; he was having an intense conversation with his best friend, Bakugo, one of the team’s Linebackers. The blond was so close to popping a fuse but Kiri was struggling to keep from laughing directly in his face. I approach the porch, slow and sensual, my eyes glued to him the entire walk over. Kirishima briefly turns around to address a comer of the group, Sero, an offensive player, when his eyes come up the steps. The humorous expression on his face drops and is replaced with awe. The other two boys look in the direction of his eyesight and replicate his reaction.

“Hi—” I lifted my hand to wave, but it never made it past my abdomen. Liza appeared right in front of me and captured my wrist.

“Girl, it’s our song! Hurry up!” She said as she proceeded to drag me into the house.

“Bye—! Wait, damn!”

Liza pulled me to the makeshift dance floor in the middle of the living room of the home. She starts to bop side to side, swaying her hips in place. It takes me a few seconds to register that “34+35” was blasting the speakers. Liza twirls around me in a fit of giggles and continues to bop along to the music.

“I thought you liked “positions” better than this track?” I questioned as I matched her rhythm.

“I do! I just had to get you out of there,” Liza answered as she swayed her head back and forth. Which made her hair move in an angelic wave behind her bandeau top and pencil skirt. “Those three guys looked like they wanted to run a train on you.”

“ELIZABETH!!!!” I screamed with a shocked smile.

“What?! I’m not lying!” She gives me a bashful smirk. “You look so good, mamas! Shit, you're making me rethink my relationship with Shinso.”

“Oh my god!” I laughed. “I can’t take your ass anywhere, for real!”

The song began to fade out and bleed into “Pussy Talk” with the infamous City Girls. Liza’s soft bops began to move into full booty bouncing. Soon her hands are on her knees and she’s throwing her ass back on my lap. I press my hand flat on her back and lift my other hand in the air. She whines her waist and looks back at me as her inner hot girl is threatening to make an appearance. Shortly after the first verse, Liza straightens her back and dances around me as I bop to the side, bouncing my ass to the music. A smile comes to my lips as my favorite part plays on full blast.

“Pussy talented, it do cartwheels,” Liza and I screamed in unison. “And he pay ‘cause he like how that part feel.”

“Pussy give speeches, heartfelt,” I continued, popping my back against my friend.

“Yuh,” Liza ad-libbed.

“Said the pussy really talk like it Garfield,” I rapped as I felt Liza’s hands glide up my sides.

“It do!”

We danced around each other for the rest of the song and pulled away from the floor, desperately needing to hydrate. We practically stumbled toward the makeshift bar across the living room. We reached into the cooler and pulled out two bottles of water. We chugged the water and tossed the empty bottles in the trash.

“Only water, ladies?” Mineta asked as we turned back towards the dance floor. “You don’t want something a little. . . stronger?”

“Get lost, grape juice,” a familiar voice suddenly came out of nowhere.

Just a few feet behind the purple blob stood Kirishima and Shinso. If looks could kill, Mineta’s body parts would be staining the marble floors and messing up my fresh pedicure. The poor excuse for a human scurried away as both football players approached us. Shinso instantly wrapped his arms around Liza and planted a kiss on her forehead.

“Having fun, baby girl?” His low voice sounded sensual against the harsh music.

A seductive smile falls on Liza’s face. “I would’ve had even more fun if you actually danced with me for once.”

“You know I don’t like—”

“Too bad!” She pulled Shinso to the dance floor.

Leaving me alone with Kirishima. I turned to look at him and offered him an awkward smile. “How was your diving lesson?”

The redhead returned my smile and scratched the back of his neck. “So you did read me my texts? I was starting to think you were mad at me or something.”

“Not at you, per se,” I replied thinking of my words carefully.

“Then who were you mad at?” Kirishima closes the distance between us and puts a finger under my chin. He redirects my attention to his face and gives me a smirk.

He looked good and he knew it. He wore a simple white t-shirt and black ripped jeans. But, he paired it with a burgundy leather jacket and a Cuban link silver chain. He had a gold wristwatch on his left wrist and a simple chain on his right. And his cologne. . . it danced in my nostrils. It wasn’t too heavy or suffocating; you simply had to be close to him to smell it.

Kirishima was playing a dangerous game and he knew it.

“At the people that take you away from me,” I looked at him with doughy eyes and slightly parted lips. A look of innocence was written all over my face.

Kirishima clenched his jaw and briefly looked away. A blush starting to form on his cheeks. “Well, I—. Shit.” He remained silent for a few seconds, gathering his words, before saying “You don’t know what you do to me, Y/N.”

“And what’s that?” I asked while removing his hand from my chin and bringing it to my lips. I gently kiss his bruised knuckles, never breaking eye contact while doing so.

The redhead opens his mouth to speak but is rudely interrupted by a yelling Liza.

“GET YOUR ASS OVER HERE, BITCH!!!! THEY’RE PLAYING OUR SONG!!!!”

While I was talking to Kirishima, the music seemed to slip away. I had no idea what was playing until I refocused my attention on the blaring speakers. “Come on, Kiri. Duty calls.” I drag him to the dance floor.

Liza unlatches herself from Shinso and twirls around me. “I’m not shy, I’ll say it. I’ve been picturing you naked.”

“I’m a little faded, you look like a fucking painting,” I continue the verse as I glide my hands along my body. “Big doe eyes, amazin’. She’s everything I’ve been prayin’.”

Liza walked up to Kirishima and glided her hand along his chest. “Me and your girlfriend playin’ dress-up house.” She pressed two fingers against her lips and poked her tongue out. “I gave your girlfriend cunnilingus on my couch.”

Kirishima blushes a bright red, nearly matching his hair. It takes everything in me not to laugh.

I look back at Shinso and he’s just shaking his head with a smile on his face.

“Go get your girlfriend, before she devours your teammate,” I said giggly quietly.

“Go get your best friend before she kills your loverboy,” Shinso counters looking down at me with a smirk.

“He looks like he's gonna pass out,” I replied, struggling to contain my laughter.

“If you think that’s bad, you should’ve seen him when you were twerking on Liza,” Shinso jested while leaning closer to me. “Eijiro looked like he came in his pants.”

I smacked his arm and leaned against his chest. “You’re lying!” Laughter overcame my body; tears were gathering in the corners of my eyes.

“I swear to god,” Shinso struggled to say while laughing. “Then, when Bakugo called you hot. . . Eiji almost went feral.”

“Stop. . . I can’t breathe. . .”

“You better fuck him like the world is ending. . . I can’t keep stopping him from. . . fighting the entire team over you.”

“You and Liza. . . perfect for each other. . . I cannot. . .”

The song swiftly faded out into another. Yet another one of Liza’s favorites: Buss it by Erika Banks.

The young woman peeled herself from Kirishima and began walking to her boyfriend. I distanced myself from Shinso and walked over to Kirishima. I wrapped my arms around his neck and looked into his eyes. “Are you okay, Kiri?” A smile painted my lips.

His eyes darkened and he gripped my waist firmly. “I want you. . . so bad right now.”

“How about we get outta here?” I suggested with a raised eyebrow.

“Go say goodbye to your friends, I’ll bring the car around,” Kirishima asserted with a smirk. He pressed a kiss to my forehead before detaching himself from me and walking out of the living room.

I turned back to Shinso and Liza, who were seconds away from eating each other’s face off. I tapped the loving couple and cleared my throat. They both pulled away and stared at me.

"We're leaving," I said simply.

"About fucking time," Liza replied with a smirk. "You better come back to the dorm in a goddamn wheelchair, if not, I'm sending you back to his place."

"You have like zero chill," I shook my head and waved goodbye.

"Don't forget to use protection!" Liza yelled after me.

A chuckle fell from my lips as I walked out of the front door. I found Kirishima exactly where he said he'd be: parked in front of the massive house, within a bright red mustang. He exited the car and walked around to the passenger side of the vehicle. He opened my door and helped me get in. Kirishima made sure I was buckled in and comfortable before entering the car on the driver's side.

He starts the vehicle, and places his right hand on my thigh. He gives the plush fresh a securing squeeze before pulling away from the curb.

The drive was short and sweet, averaging around ten minutes. We parked across the street from the boys’ dorm hall and exited the car. Kirishima opened my door and helped me out of the vehicle.

"If you don't want this, I could always take you home," he said as he shut my door. "I don't want to pressure you into anything."

"I want this more than you know," I responded while gripping his hand. "But, if I ever feel uncomfortable, I'll let you know."

Kirishima nods and smiles. "Good girl. Now let's go."

The moment his dorm's door closed, his body was pressed against mine and his hand glued to my waist. His lips massaged against my own, slow and sensually. I moaned against the kiss, and pressed my body closer to his. He felt so good attached to me, almost like he was meant to be against me. His searing hot kisses inched down my jawline and to my neck. Kirishima's hands slid up my abdomen and to my shoulders, he slipped the straps from the curved surface and pulled away just enough just to allow me to remove them from my arms.

He kissed the other side of my neck, leaving little bites here and there. The redhead ran his tongue against my collarbones and I swear a flood rushed to my nether regions. Kirishima kissed down and left my breast, gathering the anticipation that swirled through my body before latching his lips on my nipple. A throat my moan fell from my mouth and my legs jolted slightly. My mind continued to fog as he nestled against the sensitive bud, while happily moaning against the soft flesh. I pressed one hand against the front door and another in his hair.

Pants left my lips as I began to squirm underneath his body. "Take me to the bed, please," I begged while looking down at him. " I want you so bad, Kiri."

The redhead detached himself from my breast and gripped my chin. "Say my name, baby." His red eyes stared deeply into my brown ones, taking in every little detail of my expression.

"Eijiro," I said breathlessly.

"Say it again," he broke eye contact and gripped my waist.

"Eijiro."

His hands slipped down the curve of my rear and to my legs. He lifted limbs from off the ground and wrapped them around his waist. I wrapped my arms around his leg immediately afterward and giggled.

He walked further into the dorm room and passed through another dorm. He sits me on the extra-long twin bed and falls to his knees between my legs. Kiri unlatches my strappy heel and tosses it to the other side of the room. While he does the other foot, a smirk presses against his lips.

"What?" I asked while looking down at him.

"I'm just thinking about how this started," he said while smiling. "How my shifty grades gave me the best thing that ever happened to me."

"Stop it," I counter with a blush on my face. "You're exaggerating."

"Baby, I mean it with every fiber of my being when I say this," he leaned forward. "I've wanted to be with you for a while now, I just didn't know if you'd like me back. And I was kinda ashamed of taking so long to say something because you're so sweet and you really helped me a lot with Advanced American History. I didn’t want you to think I was using you for information or anything."

I leaned forward and pressed my lips on his forehead. "I liked you even before I officially knew you. When you beat the shit out of that guy that tried to home a drunk girl."

"I don't even remember that."

"It was during a Halloween party last year, that was when I first saw you. And I thought, "wow I wish more men like him existed in this world"."

"I can't believe you remember that."

"How could I not? You basically saved that girl's life and dignity. You were the only human being in a room full of predators. That's when I knew I wanted you for myself."

Kirishima laughs. "Greedy, little Y/N."

I shrugged.

"Come here."

I gathered the football player into my arms and pressed my lips onto his. Taking in every ounce of his kiss. Sucking on his bottom lip. Slipping my tongue within his mouth. Tugging against his collar to close the distance between us. After a few seconds, Kirishima kissed down my body again until he was face to face with my heated center. He scrunched the dress around my waist and pulled my panties off my legs before spreading my legs wide open.

"Oh… look how wet you are, baby," he kissed the soft skin in between my thighs. "All for me."

Kirishima dipped his head between my legs and took a long swipe at the sticky mess between them. A shiver ran along my spine, Arching my back, I released a soft whimper and spread my legs further apart. He dipped his tongue into the smooth canal repeatedly, bobbing his head as he completed the action. His calloused hands slid up my legs once more and hooked around my thighs. Kiri moved his hot mouth from the very bottom of my womanhood to the top, leaving a long string of spit along the way. The redhead sucked on the protruding bud tenderly; with hollowed cheeks, he looked up from my heat and stared into my eyes. I bit my lip and moaned loudly.

“Fuck, you feel good,” I arched my back against his mouth and bucked my hips slowly.

Kirishima released my bud with a silent “pop” and began lapping the rosy, pink button in great haste. My legs jolted at the new source of stimulation and a throaty whine fell from my lips. Squeezing my eyes shut, I squirmed underneath his mouth, desperately wanting to add more friction. Kiri noticed my slutty movements and began to move his tongue even faster.

“Ah. . . just like that, don’t stop,” my fingers gathered my bosoms and gave them a firm squeeze. The walls of my slick cave began to clench and release themselves at a faster pace. Tingles rose up my body, swirling against my lower abdomen, almost numbing my lower half entirely. Then, a searing sensation ripped through me, causing my hips to raise from the bed and my knees to shake. A low scream left my mouth as I felt the throbbing of my bud increase tremendously.

“Oh fuck! Oh fuck! Oh fuck!” My hips fell on the bed again and my legs shook violently. Kirishima steadied them as much as he could before a whole another wave hit my body and my entire being went still.

“Ah! Eijiro!” I screamed as the pleasure shot through my body for the last time. Pants left my throat and short spurts, just as sweat dripped from my forehead. I looked down at Kirishima, who had just pulled away from my spasming cunny. He had a look of astonishment on his face, as if he couldn’t believe his eyes. He looked down at my wrecked body, taking in the shaking limbs, the thin layer of sweat upon it, and the scrunched-up dress at the waist.

“You sounded so hot screaming my name,” he finally said after a few seconds of silence. “No one has ever made it sound so good as you.”

“Well, grab a condom and I’ll scream your name for the rest of the night,” I replied with a smirk. “If you can last that long.”

“Oh, baby,” Kiri’s smile widened. “You have no idea.”

He walked over to his dresser and pulled out a box of condoms from the top drawer. He ripped one off the sleeve and walked back over to me. I pulled the scrunched-up dress over my head and tossed it to the side. I looked over at Kiri and he’d already stripped himself of his T-shirt. He was currently unbuckling his belt with the condom packet in his mouth. His massive bulge immediately caught my eye and I moaned in anticipation. Kirishima rips the packet open with his teeth and rolls latex down his throbbing shaft. My walls clench at the delicious sight and I could feel my nipple begin to stiffen

“If you’re still tired, we can wait a little—” Kirishima begins to say before I cut him off.

“Eijiro, stop being nice and fuck me like a slut.”

His lips were on mine within the next heartbeat. His hands roamed every crevice of my body, taking in the soft tissue and stretchmarks lovingly. His throbbing member slowly slid into me with little to no friction. He made sure to thumb my clitoris while inserting himself, just so he wouldn’t hurt me. And I swear, I was seconds away from asking him to marry me. He gently moved his hips backward, and then pushed forward again. Highlighting his first stroke. He looked at the crimson hue on my face and leaned down to kiss me.

“You are so pretty, princess,” Kiri groaned softly, as he moved his hips at a gentle pace. “So, so pretty.”

I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him again. Our tongues danced together as his member tenderly kissed my sensitive walls with each thrust. Kirishima moaned against my lips, as he took in every part of that union. He hiked up one of my legs and hooked it around his waist while he cradled the back of my neck with the other. He looked into my eyes as he increased the pressure of his strokes and their depth. My mouth hung open, and drool poured from the side of it as he kept up the sickening pace. My eyes began to roll back as throat moans rose from the depth of my body.

“Oh God. . .” I slurred as the pleasure increased within my body.

“Aww look at my pretty baby,” Kiri grunted as he rested his hand on my neck. He pressed his thumb between my lips.

I sucked on the digit and looked into his eyes. He moved his hips faster and my lips separated from around the finger. Pants fell from my lips as I felt his member sensually assault my cervix. After a few minutes, Kirishima suddenly pauses and hikes one of my legs up to his shoulders. He readjusts his body, leaving his hand on my neck and placing his hand on my clit. Kiri began to rock his hips in a powerful, but steady motion. He rubs the throbbing bud in a gentle motion, slowly gathering every ounce of pleasure within my body. The pace of my breathing increased rapidly, as the pool in my stomach began to inflate. Whimpers fell from my lips as I gripped the sheets underneath me.

“I’m so close. . .” I whispered through tight lips. “Please don’t stop. . .”

“You’re squeezing me so deliciously tight, baby,” Kirishima grunts as a droplet of sweat drops from his brow. “Milking my cock for everything it’s worth. What a greedy little cunny you have.”

“Eijiro. . . I wanna cum so bad,” I whimpered through pants. “Please let me cum, baby.”

Kirishima curses under his breath and releases his hand from my throbbing bud. He places both hands onto my neck, thumbs pressing against my jaw. He eases his body forward and keeps his sickening pace. “You’re gonna be the death of me, I swear.”

I sucked in a breath and wrapped my hands around his forearms. I furrow my brows and pant with my mouth open. “You make me feel so good, Eiji. So fucking good!”

“You’re mine, you hear me?” He drops his hands from my neck and presses his forehead to mine. “You don’t get to fuck anyone else. . . . .You don’t get to be with anyone else. . . .My name will be the only name you moan for the rest of your life, do you understand?”

I nod. “I understand.”

“You’re mine and no one else's.”

He pulls me into a searing hot kiss. Drinking in all the love and energy throughout my body. I hook my arms around his neck and moan against his lips. Suddenly, I felt an intense rush of adrenaline pass through my body and everything seemed to go silent. A low ringing noise sounded in my ear as my mouth fell open. I dug my arms into his back and clung to his body. Every fiber of my being tensed and my mind went completely blank for several seconds. Then, slowly, my body released itself and collapsed onto the bed. I opened my eyes lazily to see Kirishima’s eyes tightly closed and his hips slightly shaking. Once he finished his ride, his body relaxed and he lowered my leg from his shoulder. He pulled me into an embrace and pressed another kiss onto my lips.

I pulled away from the kiss and looked into his crimson eyes. “Were you serious about calling me yours?”

“Ugh. . . yes?” He replied hesitantly. Then, he added “If that’s okay with you! I don’t wanna force you—”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” I cut him off with a smirk.

“Oh, I was worried for a second.”

“The only thing you should be worried about is your Advanced American History grade.”

“Oh, right. . .”

“You miss another one of my sessions, I’ll ignore you again.”

“Please don’t! I will be present at every session.”

“Good. And you have to be Starbucks.”

“The drink that tastes like the moon?”

“Matcha latte with 2 pumps of chai. Yup.”

“And two chocolate cake pops.”

“Mhm. You know me so well.”

[kiss-inthekitchen]

of the jealous kind

summary: you and Harry are out at the local farmer’s market when a girl starts flirting with you and Harry gets jealous. only thing is, you don’t exactly realize she’s flirting with you. classic wlw vibes, am i right ladies? (please say yes)

my submission for @bopbopstyles and @harrysclementines bi-ficathon!

a/n: fun times with Harry calling you “his girl” and being just a bit pathetically jealous (his words!) also i might continue this...in a smut type of fashion... if y’all are interested

word count: 2.2k 

--

“Oh, let’s stop over there! I want to get one of those chocolate chip custard things,” you exclaimed, spotting your favorite bakery stand at the farmer’s market and dragging Harry along by your joined hands. 

“A’right, love, m’comin,” he laughed, trying to keep in step with your suddenly quickened pace. 

It was a Sunday morning, cloudy but not too cold, and you and Harry were visiting your favorite farmer’s market in town. You tried to come here at least twice a month if your schedules allowed it. Today, it just so happened, you both had the entire day free to spend with each other. 

Harry knew you had to look at everything the bakery had to offer before you inevitably bought the same items as usual (a good, crusty country loaf and the same danish you never remembered the name of). There was a produce stand across the way that immediately caught Harry’s eye, a “buy 2 get 1 free” sign atop a display of various berries calling out to him. You noticed his distraction, the two of you speaking at the same time.

“M’gonna-” 

“Go on, then.”

“Know me so well, don’t you?” He gave you a soft smile and pressed a kiss to your temple before heading off in pursuit of his beloved fruit. 

You took the last few steps over to the booth’s main table, which held a majority of the baked goods as well as this week’s free sample: a garlic rosemary bread, cut into bite size pieces. You picked one up, on instinct taking a sidelong glance at the basket of your favorite pastries by the register, when the woman behind the counter finished ringing up a customer and turned to you.   

“Can I help you with anything, hon?”

“Oh, um, I’m just looking,” you answered, looking up at her. She must’ve been new, you thought, not recognizing her from your previous visits. She had dark hair, twisted up into a bun at the back of her head, an oversized t-shirt with a phoenix decal on it. Her name tag informed you that her name was Allie. 

“Alright, well, I will say that’s the best flavor we’ve got,” she gestures to the small wedge still held between your fingers. 

“Really? That’s quite a bold statement,” you smile back at her, appreciating her friendliness.  

“You’re gonna want to trust me on this one,” she said, nodding at you to go ahead. 

You took a bite, blushing a bit at the knowledge you were being watched and that she was awaiting your response. “Mhm,” you agreed, around a mouthful of bread. “Okay, you’re right, that’s better.” 

“Thought so. I have been told I’ve got very good taste.” 

“Well, I’m not surprised.” 

She made eye contact with you, the hint of a smile playing on her lips. “So, will you be taking a loaf of the garlic rosemary then?” she asked. 

“Yes, please.” Why not try something new, you thought. And she was right, it was delicious. You’re sure Harry would like it too, and you could just imagine the playful ribbing he was going to give you when he noticed you’d deviated from your usual order. “Oh, could I also get that-” 

“The chocolate chip danish? I saw you eyeing it earlier,” she said, picking one up with a gloved hand and placing it in a small paper bag. “That one’s on the house.” 

“Oh, you’re so sweet! Thank you.” Allie was really on top of it with the customer service. 

“Anytime,” she said, “Anything else I can get you?” 

“No, that’s all for me! Thanks again.”

She rang up your order, handing you the bag before speaking. “You know, we also come out to the beachside farmer’s market on Wednesday’s, if you’re ever in the area. I’ll write it down for you,” she said, picking up a business card from a stack on the table and turning it over to write on the back. 

“Sounds great,” you replied, mostly to be polite. You probably wouldn’t make it out, Wednesdays being a busy day for you with classes. 

Just as she was handing it back to you, Harry appeared behind you, fruit in tow. 

“Thank you so much, have a good one!” you said cheerily, dropping the card into the bag with your goods. You’d look at it when you got home.

She waved back. “See you soon, hopefully.”

You smiled as you turned around to see Harry already standing there, startling a bit at his unexpected presence. He raised his eyebrows a bit, but didn’t say anything as he put his free arm around your shoulders. The two of you headed back to the main walkway, and he waited until your new friend was out of earshot before he spoke. 

“So, yeh just gonna let someone flirt with my girl like that?” 

“What?” That was not what you were expecting. “She wasn’t flirting with me, Harry.” 

“Oh, please, love. Saw the way she was lookin’ at you. Poor girl. I’m sure you led her on.” 

“Excuse me, I did no such thing,” you scoffed. “And she wasn’t even flirting with me, so I couldn’t have.” 

He breezed right past your denial, having already made up his mind. You weren’t going to be able to convince him otherwise, you knew that by now. “Told ya before love, you come off very flirtatious. Almost feel bad for her.” He was smirking down at you, the bastard. “Almost.” 

“Being a pest,” you grumbled, shoving against his shoulder with yours to throw him off balance. 

He stumbled a bit, but recovered quickly. “Oi! ‘S not very nice, is it?” 

You giggled in response, loving when he used that playful tone. He tried to keep a serious face on while looking back at you but failed almost immediately, looking at you with such adoration in his eyes that you forgot what you’d both been talking about. 

“Anyway,” you sang, reaching out for his free hand and threading your fingers through his. “What did you buy?” 

His face lights up at the memory of his purchase. “Got strawberries, raspberries, and blackberries, plus some local clover honey.” 

“Such a sweet tooth, hm?” 

“S’pose I do,” he said with a slight smirk. “Ready to go home and eat, then?” 

“We’ve barely been here half an hour, H. Trying to get me home already?”

“Look too good today, love. Worried if we stick around I’ll have to beat the other vendors off with a stick.” 

“I thought we were done with this conversation,” you rolled your eyes at him playfully, but allowed him to steer you back toward the car park. You were getting kind of hungry anyway. 

--

You’re sat on your kitchen island at home, Harry placing the bags on the counter next to you. 

“Have a nice time, love?” He asks, moving over to you and situating his body between your knees at the edge of the counter. 

You drape your arms around his neck, thumb coming up to his cheek to rub back and forth as he leans into your touch. “Always have a good time when I’m with you,” you breathe. 

“That’s m’girl,” he speaks in a husky tone, before leaning in to press his lips to yours, slow and lazy at first. That is, until he lifts his hands to your thighs, sliding them around to your back and suddenly tugging you closer to the edge of the island, body flush with his. You gasp into his mouth at the action, and you can feel rather than see his resounding smirk. 

“Harry,” you pull back, attempting to admonish him but no one would know from the way your voice shakes. 

“Sorry, love. Know what they say, kitchen’s the most romantic room in the house.” 

“I don’t know anyone who says that.” 

“Y’do now,” he grins lopsidedly at you, and it’s all you can do to remember that the two of you still need to eat. 

You grin back at him. “You’re a dork, you know that?” 

“But you love me,” he responds, and you can’t argue with that. “A’right, I’ll take everything out and we can have a picnic in the backyard, how’s that sound?” 

Your smile nearly knocks him off his feet. “I’ll go get the picnic blanket!” 

He removes himself from between your legs and you slide off the counter and head towards the linen closet in the hallway. When you return, Harry’s taken out the loaf of bread and the danish, and is holding the business card in between two fingers. 

“What’s this, then?” He asks, holding up the bakery’s business card, logo facing you. 

“It’s just their card, the cashier told me they come out to another farmer’s market during the week and she was gonna write it down for me.” 

“Oh, she wrote it down, love.” In a second, he elegantly flips the card over in his fingers to show you the back. “But that’s not all she wrote.” Underneath the name of the other market is her name and, unmistakably, a phone number. 

“No!” you gasp, not believing he was right and you’d fucking missed it. 

“And you bought a new flavor bread?”

“Well, I-  Allie said it was the best one…” you trail off, trying to remember the details of your earlier interaction. Maybe Harry was right, you guess you did seem a bit flirtatious.

“Oh, Allie said, did she? That’s all it takes?” He’s kind of joking, kind of not, when it finally sinks in for you that you’ve, yet again, completely failed to notice when another woman was trying to flirt with you. 

“Oh, god damn it!” you exclaim, completely in your own head and you didn’t even hear what Harry had said to you. “I do this every time!” 

What’s left of Harry’s joking demeanor drops. “Every time? How often does this happen?!” 

“I can’t believe I didn’t notice again.” 

Your friends were gonna have a field day with this one. Three out of the four of you identified as bi or pan, though when you’d all become friends back in high school only one of you had actually been out. Now, you all joked that you had one “token straight” in the friend group. 

“Y/N?!”

“I know, H, can you give me just a moment, I’m trying to come to terms with the fact that I’m apparently a raging stereotype,” you reply, laughing at yourself a bit for being so predictable. 

“Oh, of course, don't mind me. I’ll just be here. Waiting. Very patiently.” It’s a wonder he doesn’t start tapping his foot, clearly the farthest thing from patient right now. 

You snap back to attention, realizing that if you don’t stop Harry he’s just going to keep spiraling. “You do know I’m dating you, right?”

“Do I?” 

“Oh, come on. You’re being such a baby about this!” 

“Oi! I am not!” He huffs, and you can just picture him as an indignant toddler, standing with his arms folded and a deep frown set on his face. 

You hold back a laugh at the image you’ve conjured, closing the distance between the two of you. “Baby, I love you,” you say, pressing a kiss to his cheek.“You know I do.” His jaw. “Why don’t we just throw that out, hm?” You kiss his lips this time, reaching for the card and plucking it from his fingers before tossing it away from you.  

“I guess,” he grumbles as you pull away, but you can tell he’s not quite over it. 

You rest your chin against his chest, looking up at him with your best puppy dog eyes. “You don’t believe me, gorgeous? Need me to prove it to you?” 

“Maybe,” he mumbles, and you know that you’ve brought him back from his little jealousy spiral at the mere suggestion, so you decide to make him wait for it. Just a little while.  

“More than happy to,” you murmur, tracing your fingertips over the back of his hand. “Only thing is, you’re gonna have to have this picnic with me first,” you reach behind him for the blanket, “and you have to stop pouting.” You step around him, laughing as you run toward the glass door that leads to the yard.

“M’not pouting,” he lies to the empty kitchen as he grabs the rest of the food and some utensils before following you outside. 

His mood is definitely lifted, though, when he comes outside to find you seated on the blanket already, grinning widely at him and holding your arms out for him to crawl into. 

Maybe he had been just a tad bit dramatic. 

--

About half the bread is gone now, a bowl of honeyed berries and a plate full of crumbs resting on the cloth-covered grass next to you. Harry’s shifted so he’s laying down with his head resting on your soft thighs, with you carding your fingers through his short curls, just enjoying each other’s company. 

“Wait a minute,” you break the comfortable silence, a thought suddenly popping into your mind. “Other people flirt with you all the time! Sometimes right in front of me!” 

“And?” he muses, reluctantly sitting up in order to face you. 

“And! I never get jealous like that!” 

“I know. Rather insulting, if you ask me. You can get possessive, love. I certainly won’t mind it.”

[ladylynse]

Chapter 6 [FFN | AO3] of Forewarning

All Dipper knew was that there was something buried in some special thermos behind the shack; all Danny knew was that he had no idea how he'd gotten here.

Based off this artwork by @hashtag-art. Happy birthday, @bibliophilea!

(beginning | previous)

-|-

Once safely back at the Mystery Shack, Wendy turned off the golf cart and grabbed her supplies from the rack in the back. It had been a bumpy ride, but she’d only needed to sacrifice one bag of marshmallows to the forest. That wasn’t bad, considering how many creatures she was fairly sure lived there.

And, fine, maybe it made her a little paranoid to think that some of the bumps she’d hit had been deliberate, a growth of tree roots just so or deep holes suspiciously covered with leaf litter, but it wasn’t like she voiced her thoughts to anyone else.

Besides, whatever lived in the forest seemed happy with the occasional sacrifice of candy. At the very least, she’d never been stopped by something yet, and she took a lot of shortcuts through here by herself. That wasn’t exactly recommended, even for those who knew the territory well. When her family went out for apocalypse training, they were supposed to pair off. They didn’t always, but they did more often than not.

It’s easier to survive if there’s someone you trust around to watch your back, but you have to know how to fight if there isn’t.

Whatever had stopped by the Mystery Shack wasn’t bringing the apocalypse with it—she was pretty sure about that—but she didn’t want this to turn into that. Taking the twins to see the haunted grocery store? Sure. She still hadn’t been sure they’d actually see ghosts despite the stories—no one had been until it had happened—but that was different. That was contained. That was very much not in the Mystery Shack. Where the kids slept. With only the oblivious skeptic Stan around to fight the things that went bump in the night.

Now, if those things were corporeal, she wouldn’t be concerned. The man knew how to punch, and he’d punch before asking questions. But whatever had turned up this time clearly had the option to not be corporeal. Like a ghost.

She remembered the footprints appearing in the scattered baking soda a split second before the boy who’d visited earlier appeared. The same boy who had flashed a careless grin and flipped through postcards and keychains and magnets in the gift shop before taking a tour with Mabel.

Whatever he was, he wasn’t a ghost, but he was entirely too much like a ghost for comfort.

There was no sign of Stan yet—not a surprise; she hadn’t heard his car—but chances were good he wasn’t far behind her.

She saw Soos walking in from the lane and raised her hand in a wave. He spotted her and held a finger to his lips before pointing, and something cold and heavy settled in her gut as she spotted three figures by the woodshed: Mabel, Dipper, and the not-a-ghost boy who’d called himself Danny.

She cursed under her breath as she hurried to meet Soos. “That’s him,” she hissed. “We need to get him away from the twins.”

“Did you find anything in town that we can use?”

“I bought a couple more boxes of salt.” Silver was expensive—too expensive for her, anyway—and she wasn’t exactly guaranteed to find holy water even if she tried breaking into a church, mostly because she didn’t know where she’d look for it. She could’ve bought a cast iron frying pan, but she might as well grab one from the kitchen. The ideas of what they might be able to do had quickly fallen apart when she’d realized what was actually feasible. “It’s better than nothing.”

“What about garlic?”

“For a ghost?”

“You said he wasn’t a ghost.”

“Close enough to a ghost. And, anyway, there should be some in the kitchen. We can always chop up a couple of cloves and see if it does anything.” If it didn’t, and they didn’t waste it, they could always throw it into hamburger meat or make garlic bread. “How long has he been here? The kid?”

“Just a couple of minutes,” Soos allowed, “but this isn’t the first time the kids have met him.”

Wendy closed her eyes. “I know, I just…. I’d hoped they wouldn’t realize he wasn’t normal.” More to the point, she’d hoped that he wouldn’t come back. What the hell did he want, anyway? Sure, he’d said something about fixing whatever was wrong, but their ideas about what needed fixing weren’t likely the same.

“They might not. He was pretending to be normal when he talked to me.”

“He talked to you?”

“Just to ask after Dipper and Mabel.”

Wendy frowned. Soos didn’t sound too optimistic that Mabel and Dipper wouldn’t realize there was something weird about the kid, and frankly, she thought he was right. Mabel might be more forgiving, but Dipper…. “We’ll play it cool. Keep doing whatever you were doing. Try to keep an eye on them without being too obvious about it. I’ll prepare the fire pit.”

“The wood, campfire forks, hot dogs, marshmallows—?”

His gaze had wandered pointedly down to the box of salt pressing against the white plastic bag she carried, its blue label clearly visible. “Yeah. I won’t ring it thickly enough that it’s noticeable, especially since it’ll have to be in the gravel where nothing’s growing anyway, but if he’s going to pretend to be normal, then we’ll see how long he can keep that up.”

“And if he’s not affected by the salt?”

“We cross that bridge when we come to it.”

“And if we’re wrong and he is normal after all?”

Wendy snorted. “If he’s normal, he’s only normal for here.” She saw Soos shift uncomfortably and added, “If Stan comes back before I’m finished, give him the pitch about taking measures to ghost-proof the Mystery Shack and advertising doing that because it’s haunted. He’ll know how to get more of what we need, even if he doesn’t think it’ll do anything.”

“What if he’s not bad? The kid, I mean. Not everything is bad. Not everyone is bad.”

The kid had claimed he wasn’t a threat. He’d said he was stuck, that he just wanted to go home, that he had to fix something, not break it. What if it hadn’t been a lie? She didn’t see how his sneaking around could mean his intentions were honourable, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t missing something.

On the other hand, if he were simply determined to show a friendly face to the twins to get them to lower their guard, only to strike once he’d fooled them—

Wendy wasn’t sure if she wanted to take that risk. Having a healthy amount of suspicion now and apologizing later sounded much better to her than being overly trusting and being burned—especially if she wouldn’t be the only one caught in that fire. She and Soos had lived their entire lives here. Mabel and Dipper had not. They might not yet appreciate the degree to which not everything was as it appeared.

“You don’t need to be ready to attack,” Wendy finally said. “You just need to be ready to defend.” Soos nodded, maybe thinking her words were for both of them, but they weren’t. She had no intentions of simply being ready to defend. She wasn’t about to attack unprovoked, but if this kid did anything that set off alarm bells for her, she’d act on her gut. She trusted her gut more than her head. It was reliable in these sorts of situations.

The trouble was, her gut should have made a call on this already. Instead, she was still conflicted, and more time to mull it over on her trip into town hadn’t helped. Part of her still wanted to take the kid’s words at face value, but the little she’d seen of what he could do backed up the part of her that insisted he was far too dangerous to blindly trust. Soos wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt, but there was so much that could seem innocuous at first….

The knowledge that Soos was right and they had no idea if salt would actually help defend them didn’t make this any easier—especially when Danny was clearly interested in Mabel and Dipper. Soos had mentioned Dipper having a book, and she remembered seeing glimpses of it before. If that’s what the kid was interested in, how was she supposed to help Dipper and Mabel protect it while still protecting them?

Salt first. Purifying fire and questions later, if the kid decided to stick around for it. As long as he wasn’t hurting her friends, she was willing to give him a shovel and see how deep he dug.

XXXXXXX

Danny didn’t see the journal around, but Dipper apparently didn’t need it to draw his magic circle thing in the dirt. To be fair, Danny didn’t know if it was the same one as before, but he also didn’t want to find out. Which meant taking the initiative and trying to explain before they decided to pull more magic stuff on him.

“Please don’t do whatever you’re planning on doing,” he said, keeping his voice low in the hope that the guy he’d been talking to earlier wouldn’t hear it. “I just want to talk, I swear.”

“Are you ready to explain now?”

That was Dipper, with a bite in his voice that reminded Danny a bit of Valerie. Dipper might not sound even half as malicious as Valerie could when she was spitting curses at Phantom, but he was appropriately wary. “Yeah. But you have to promise you won’t try any magic stuff.”

“No. You’re not defenseless, and I’m not swearing away my ability to protect anyone.”

Oh. Right. He might think that particular promise carried more weight than a regular promise. He seemed to think giving his word would make it impossible to break. Danny didn’t know of any ghosts with that power, and frankly he didn’t want to meet one who had it. “You don’t have to. I just…. I promise I’m not here to hurt you or anyone else. I only want to talk. And not, y’know, risk being exorcised if you don’t believe me.”

Mabel looked from Danny to her brother and raised an eyebrow. He scowled at her but said, “Fine. If you don’t do anything except tell us the truth right now, I won’t try to exorcise you.”

Not ideal, but it wasn’t like Danny was planning on lying through his teeth to them, anyway—or that he couldn’t still attempt a lie if he felt he needed to. He had a feeling it wouldn’t work, though. He hadn’t had a whole lot of luck earlier. Maybe seeing through that thing was a kind of survival instinct around here, just like Secret Lab Guy had said.

Come to that, though— How had he had an entire conversation with someone, spilled half his life story to that someone, and not actually gotten their name?

Whatever. He’d ask later if he didn’t figure it out before then. It just proved the point, though. These people were good. Sharper than he was used to, unless almost everyone in Amity Park had already figured out his secret and was just being nice and waiting for him to make some kind of grand announcement.

Yeah, right. If Amity Park’s continued obliviousness wasn’t natural, then Vlad had done something. Not something Danny would thank him for, exactly, but something he wouldn’t fault him for, either.

“Thanks. Can I sit?” There weren’t chairs. There weren’t even logs. Dipper would be able to tell that he was staring at the circle drawn in the dirt, though, and know the question for what it was.

Mabel reached out one foot and drew a line through it with the toe of her shoe. “Yup!” she said, dropping down in place. “Pull up some grass.”

Dipper glared at her as Danny sat down on a patch that was more gravel than grass, but the other boy didn’t say anything; he just settled down and looked like he’d be ready to grab the axe beside him at a moment’s notice. Danny didn’t really want to find out if he knew how to use it. Then again, going by the assorted sizes of split logs nearby, he wasn’t overly skilled; even if it wasn’t a normal axe that Danny could avoid with intangibility, there was a good chance that Dipper was clumsy enough with it that he’d be easy enough to avoid.

“I’m sorry about not being entirely straight with you earlier when I said I would be.” Danny didn’t know where to begin, but an apology seemed smart when he still wanted their help.

“Which time, Phantom?”

Well, at least there wasn’t any lingering doubt. Danny sucked in a breath and let it out slowly to give himself a bit of time to think. Mabel looked ready to listen, but Dipper…. He still wasn’t sure about Dipper. “This isn’t exactly something I tend to tell strangers,” Danny said slowly, “but you’re right. I’m Phantom. I’m the one you let out of the thermos.”

Dipper was still practicing his glare, but Mabel asked, “So what are you? You’re not a ghost. We’ve seen ghosts.”

“I’m still a ghost,” Danny said, since as far as he knew, that was true. “Just…part ghost. Part human.” He rubbed the back of his neck and offered them a smile. “Remember when I joked about being the poster boy for interdimensional safety?”

“You expect us to believe you were in some sort of accident,” Dipper said flatly.

They didn’t need to know all the details, but— “Yeah. Lab accident. It didn’t kill me, or at least I don’t think it did, but I did get ghost powers, so that’s cool. Not something I’d recommend to anyone, but cool.”

Okay, Dipper definitely didn’t believe that, but Mabel nodded as if Danny had said something normal and not what probably sounded insane. “Why were you in the thermos?”

“Clockwork, I think. He’s the one who gave me the message to warn you in the first place, remember? Also the one who likes to pretend he doesn’t interfere but interferes like this. I thought it was Vlad, until I…until I realized how long it had been. And, no, before you ask, I don’t know who wrote that journal. I wasn’t lying about that. The only important bit I lied about was ‘Danny Fenton’ being a friend.”

“Why fess up now?” Dipper’s question was a challenge, sure, but Danny could hear the genuine curiosity behind it. Chance were, he wasn’t a great liar, either.

“Because I might need your help to get home. Especially if that help involves you trusting me enough to let me help you and you not trying to kill me first.”

“What were you looking for earlier?” Danny blinked, trying to figure out what that meant, and Dipper must have read that confusion on his face because he elaborated, “Mabel heard you. We know you were back before you showed yourself now.”

Right. She had been in the gift shop area, hadn’t she? “I was trying to find some clue about what else I’m supposed to do here.”

“And?”

That meant did you find it? Danny might’ve promised them the truth, but he’d also promised the other guy that he wouldn’t blow that secret, either. More or less. Hopefully that wasn’t what he was supposed to do here? “There’s something weird about this place,” he said instead. “It’s got this…feeling. I don’t know how to describe it.” It was something unnerving, like the feeling the Fright Knight could give you, but with more…. More I’m-watching-you vibes. Vlad times a hundred. If he didn’t need to stick around to get home, he’d be gone by now. Whatever Clockwork was trying to warn these guys away from, it felt like a danger on par with Pariah Dark.

Not that he’d be able to explain that to them.

Mabel reached over to poke Dipper in the arm. “Show him the journal.”

That would make things a lot easier for him. “I could tell you what it has wrong about ghosts. Or at least about me,” he offered. He wanted to do that regardless, but if he could give them more reason to show him, well….

“It seems to be right about you,” Dipper said, “unless you want to pretend that you’ve never been affected by anything we’ve done.”

Danny blew out a breath. “Look. Being part ghost doesn’t mean I’m exempt from everything that works on ghosts. It also means that I need to be careful around hunters, including you guys. But I’m not here to fight you or steal something or whatever your book says about me. I’m the good guy, I swear.”

“The good guy. Who needs his own little dedicated section in the journal.”

“Dedicated section?” That sounded worrisome. How much info did these guys have on him? Some of it had to be accurate, but if it was just full of things he’d done as a ghost with no context, like the stealing—

“More like a paragraph,” Mabel interrupted, “and it’s not even in the same language as the rest of it.”

Wait.

“Not the same language? What language is it?”

“See for yourself,” Mabel said. She elbowed Dipper when he didn’t immediately produce the journal and offer it up and then hissed a few things in his ear for good measure, which finally seemed to convince him. He pulled the journal out from beneath the vest he’d been wearing earlier, flipped through to the right page, and turned it around to show Danny.

Danny leaned closer, but he didn’t recognize the language, either. If it was something ghosts spoke, he’d never seen it written down, but aside from Wulf, most of the ghosts he’d met spoke English. He didn’t know how many other languages they spoke, though. He’d never asked. If this was some common language he had yet to learn….

“It might be the way it’s coded,” Dipper admitted, “instead of actually being in a different language. Some passages in the journal are coded, but they’re all the same code, except for this. I haven’t had any luck cracking it.”

Danny frowned, reading the page over before Dipper could take it away. He couldn’t see anything about a thermos or anything else that would have led them to him in the first place, but there was a bit of gibberish above that section written in green ink that might be the first code—

Wait. Green ink? Everything else in here was black or blue or some kind of brown that Danny really hoped wasn’t blood. “What else is written in this colour?” he asked, pointing to the passage.

“That’s it.”

“In the entire book?” That didn’t make sense. “But…why?”

“When I find the author of the journals,” Dipper said bluntly, “that won’t be one of the first questions I ask.”

“It won’t even be one of the first hundred,” Mabel added. “Dipper’s never understood the importance of colour.”

To be fair, it wasn’t typically high on Danny’s list of priorities, either, but this colour thing was definitely strange. How many other weird things were in that book if this didn’t make the list?

“Does it mean something to you?” Mabel asked.

Danny hesitated. The fact that it happened to be the same colour as his eyes—or his ectoplasm—in ghost mode could be a coincidence, but things tended to be a lot less coincidental when Clockwork was involved. Danny wasn’t really ready to bet that whoever had written this journal had simply run out of every other colour of pen that day. “Maybe,” he admitted, “but only in that it might point toward me.” Or another ghost like him. Hopefully not Danielle.

“So do you know who wrote it?” she prompted.

He shook his head. “I don’t know the handwriting. That’s not saying much, though. There are a lot of people—and ghosts—I know whose handwriting I’d never recognize.” He wasn’t even sure he’d recognize the Ghost Writer’s handwriting. “What does the other part say about me?”

“That something was stuck in a thermos behind the shack,” Mabel answered immediately, ignoring her brother’s glare. “Which it was.”

“It’s a Fenton Thermos, something specifically designed to contain ghosts. My parents build them.” If he wasn’t trying to keep his secret anymore, there was no harm in admitting that. “They’re paranormal scientists and inventors.”

“Like the author of the journal is,” Mabel said, shooting Dipper a pointed look. “That must be why the bit about the thermos is in there.”

“Not— I mean, I’m not thirty years old. Seriously. Do I look that old to you? I just turned fifteen last week.” Well. Last week for him. Not for whenever this was, five years in his future. “Me being in the thermos is Clockwork’s fault.” Probably. Except Clockwork wouldn’t have needed to catch him in a thermos to force him back here; he could’ve simply asked and called in a favour if Danny had complained, which he would’ve. More likely, Clockwork had merely taken advantage of someone else capturing him in a thermos, and that list of possibilities was long—and included more than one ally, even when the capturing was intentional.

“I don’t know all the details, okay? I just…. I haven’t met a ghost besides Clockwork that messes with time.” His evil future self didn’t count, not when Clockwork’s power had still been the vehicle for everything he’d done.

…Danny really hoped this had nothing to do with him. Now that he thought about it, he didn’t appreciate the thermos parallels.

Of course, now that he thought about it, the fact that he’d been stuck in a thermos had to be deliberate. Sure, it was a way to skirt the notice of the Observants, but Clockwork had messed with the timeline before without doing anything sneaky like that. If the thermos was important…. Coupled with the fact that there was a portal being built beneath a place called the Mystery Shack….

“That’s why I’m here.”

“You care to share with the class?” Dipper asked.

“The thermos, the portal—”

“What portal?”

Oops. “The, y’know, whatever, it doesn’t matter, the point is, you said the author of the journals was a paranormal scientist? Maybe an inventor, too?”

“No, no, don’t change the subject. What portal?”

“Like a portal to another dimension?” Mabel queried. “Is that why you talked about interdimensional safety earlier?”

Oh, crud. They weren’t going to let his slip about the portal go. So much for that secret. “Just…never mind that right now. Paranormal scientist. Inventor. Like my parents. He probably didn’t know them, it would’ve been too early on for them to have made a name for themselves, they might not even have been together yet, but…. Okay. This is gonna sound crazy—”

“Crazier than everything else you’ve said?” Dipper asked dryly.

“—but just go with me on this. Please. I know what happened when my parents messed stuff up, and—”

“And you’re warning us so we’re prepared and more careful,” Mabel finished. “So I don’t get impatient and Dipper doesn’t get complacent.”

Danny frowned. “What?”

“Your warning,” she repeated. “You’re not trying to get us to stop what we’re doing. It’s a terrible warning for that. That kind of thing just makes you wanna do it more, whatever it is. So you’re actually warning us to be more careful than you think we would be otherwise.”

Danny opened his mouth to tell her that warning someone not to do something obviously meant they shouldn’t do it, and then he remembered all the times his parents had warned him not to touch stuff in the lab.

Right.

Maybe she wasn’t wrong.

Just because that was what a warning meant, didn’t mean it would always have the desired effect.

Moreover, Clockwork would know exactly what to have Danny say to get the desired effect.

He’d thought he’d come to help with the portal, but he still didn’t know the blueprints of his parents’ portal as well as Tucker did. If this were just about helping them build or fix the portal in the basement without bad consequences, Tucker was a better choice than he was, and Clockwork could most definitely have arranged that.

But Danny had joked about being the poster boy for interdimensional safety, and he could still disassemble and reassemble most of his parents’ weapons in order to tweak them, even if he wasn’t as good at it as Tucker, and he’d be an idiot to keep ignoring the fact that Clockwork had made sure he had a thermos here.

The thermos wasn’t for him. It had never been for him. It had contained him, sure, but Clockwork must’ve made sure he was stuck in one so that he’d think of this. So that he’d think of what they’d done with his evil future self. And so he’d have it when he needed it.

There was a portal in a secret lab in the basement of the Mystery Shack, and the thermos written about in Dipper’s journal was for whatever was coming out of it.

(see more fics | next)

[marshmallow-phd]

Catching Rain

Part of The Untamed - EXO Wolf Universe

Genre: Wolf!AU

Pairing: Minseok x Reader

Summary: You were more than satisfied with your life. You attended a nice college, had nice friends, a nice boyfriend. That’s what your life was: nice. You weren’t looking for anything more, so what were you to do when this seemingly harmless boy walked into your life and turned your nice little world into one much more dangerous?

Part: 1 I 2 I 3 I 4 I 5 I 6 I 7 I 8 I 9 I 10 I Epilogue

**

The sound of your pencil tapping lightly against your notebook must have been annoying those around you, but you were too focused on the digital clock hanging above the professor’s head to care. Bright red numbers stole your attention; each time it changed you sat up a still straighter, scooted closer to the edge of your seat. The darkness of the room didn’t help. Even with the projector shining the notes you were supposed to be absorbing did nothing to block out the beacon. You were starving.

Okay, maybe not literally, but you were definitely ravenous. Breakfast had been the last thing on your mind this morning and now you were paying for it severely. A headache brewed right under the surface and your stomach gurgled and bubbled from the emptiness. The thought of leaving early did cross your mind, but that would have been rude, not to mention highly inconvenient since you were seated near the middle of the small lecture hall. It was best to avoid the dirty looks and low curses from those that you have to crawl over to get the stairs on the edge.

“And that ends the lesson for today.” The professor walked over to the side and flipped on the light. The sudden brightness made you squint, but it was worth the relief you felt. He’d ended the lesson a whole ten minutes early. You packed your belongs as quietly as possible while still keeping a listening ear. “Please look over chapter six, sections one and two before next class, there will be a two question quiz over the passages.” You scribbled a reminder down in the corner of your notebook and hopped up out of your seat. You weren’t the only one who had called it quits for the day even though the professor was still talking. “Don’t forget the first outline of your project is due next class as well, if it’s not turned in then it’s an automatic twenty percent deduction.”

Standing in line to shuffle out from the row of desks, you made a mental note to go over your outline one more time. You were already on the third stage of the project – gathering the necessary sources for the paper – but it was still a good idea to count your ducks and make sure they were lined up nicely.

You hurried to the cafeteria. The moment you were inside you hopped in the first line you saw, not bothering to take the time to consider your options. The line you were in was for the salads and sandwiches; boring food it was. Your stomach didn’t care if your taste buds weren’t going to be blown away today, it only needed sustenance. With your tray full, you moved over to the cash register and paid for your meal before finding a free table.

“Hungry much?”

Willa slid into the chair across from you, her own tray holding the spaghetti special. The buttery garlic smell drifted over to you and made your mouth water. You chewed slowly on your bland sandwich. Maybe later you could stop by for an afternoon snack….

“Already started without me, I see.” Eric dropped his bag in the half booth beside you and kissed the top of your head.

You smiled up at him. “Early bird gets the worm.”

“But the second mouse gets the cheese,” he countered as he pushed his glasses up his nose.

You leaned around him and stared at the long lines forming across the way. “I don’t think that second half applies here. You better get going before all the good stuff is gone.”

Erik followed your gaze. “Oh, crap. You’re right. Be right back!”

After swallowing a mouthful of noodles, Willa sighed. “You two are so cute.”

You snickered under your breath, but didn’t reply. Erik and you had met in World Music Appreciation your freshman year. In class, he was the slightly loud, slightly obnoxious kid who sat behind you with his friends. Somehow – and to this day you still weren’t sure the steps that led to it – you ended up in their study group for the final exam. You found that the boy who sat behind you was indeed funny, but also intelligent, generally entertaining to be around. After passing the exam that was much harder than any introductory music class should have been, you found yourself going out for celebratory pizza with him that morphed into your first date. The two of you had settled into a comfortableness with each other and you were happy.

As if trying to contradict you, Minseok’s face made an appearance in your mind. You shook the image of his smile away. That… that wasn’t good.

“Not hungry anymore?” Finally through the line, Erik sat down beside you and cracked open the can of pop he’d purchased. You looked down at the half-eaten sandwich in your hand. You hadn’t realized you’d stopped eating. The grumbling of your stomach hadn’t completely subsided, however, the bread and meat combination was no longer remotely appealing. Was this your “grass is always greener” moment?

To wave away the thoughts, you became playful again, reaching over and plucking a lob of cheese off the fresh slice of pizza on Erik’s plate and tossed in your mouth. “No, I just decided that your food looks better.”

“Well, then here.” Erik picked up your plate, took the sandwich out of your hand and slid his tray over to your side. “I’ll eat this.”

“No, Erik, give it back.”

“Seriously, (y/n), it’s fine.”

“Holy crap.”

Willa’s soft outburst stopped the playful argument in its tracks. “What is it?” Erik asked after taking a bite of your sandwich. Giving in, you nibbled on the pizza as you waited for the answer. Your taste buds cheered in victory. This was much better.

“A couple campers were attacked last night in the woods.” Willa’s eyes were trained on her phone, scanning the article that fed her the information. Whatever words she was reading, they must have been bad. Normally, Willa was the more upbeat, nothing-gets-her-down type. It must have been bad.

You leaned forward on the table. Your happy mood at the better-tasting meal as disappeared, replaced by worry. “What was it? Does it say?”

Willa swallowed thickly. “The one that was still awake said it was a wolf. A really big wolf.”

“The one that was still awake?”

“Yeah. I guess there were three of them. One died and one’s in the ICU. The third was only sort of injured when the park rangers found them.”

“Maybe he did it,” Erik said skeptically.

“I thought the same thing, but the police say the scene was consistent with an animal attack.” She clicked the lock button on the side of her phone and put it down. Her eyes flickered to you then back down at her food. It didn’t take a telepath to figure out where her mind had gone.

Erik threw an arm around your shoulders. “See why I don’t like the idea of you going out there by yourself?”

Guilt sunk your stomach. Now you really didn’t feel like eating. To try and hide it, you smiled up at him. “I’ve always understood, but you’re right, that’s a scary thing happen and it could happen to anyone.”

Satisfied, Erik removed his arm and turned his focus back to eating. You continued to pick at the cheese in order to throw off any suspicion. While the guilt of lying was still there, that wasn’t at the most forefront of your thoughts. As plausible as it was, you hoped that it wasn’t your wolf that attacked those people. Well, the wolf didn’t belong to you, but you couldn’t image such a creature killing a human being. He’d seemed to gentle and sweet to be able to do such a thing.

It was an animal, you reminded yourself. They ran on pure instinct. Besides, you didn’t know the whole story. Perhaps, if it was the same one you met in the clearing, he was provoked. Idiots were always teasing animals, whether at the zoo or the park. It was quite possible that the campers brought it upon themselves.

No. You shouldn’t think like that. A person died. Sighing, you pushed the tray away from you.

“Full?” Erik asked. You nodded and he picked up the remains of the pizza, devouring it in only a few short bites. You giggled at the grease stain left in the corner of his mouth. With the napkin, you wiped it away and started to feel somewhat at ease again.

**

Minseok was devastated. There was no other word for it. This- this was not a possibility he had imagined. How could fate be so cruel?

As he stood near the entrance of the cafeteria, he’d been overjoyed at spotting you, sitting alone at one of the hybrid tables near the middle of the large crowded room, devouring the food in front of you like Chanyeol at his favorite burger place. For a moment, he’d considered walking over and saying hi, but thought better of it since he wasn’t alone. Jongdae was chatting about his classes, laughing merrily with Jongin and Yixing beside him. All the noise was a simple hum in Minseok’s ears. His fellow students were nothing but blurs his peripheral; only you were in focus. One foot started your way despite his previous hesitation, but then another girl sat down across from you. He took that as a sign to slow down. Then a guy joined you, placing his bag down as if he owned that space beside you, and kissed your head. You beamed up at him.

The ground shook beneath his feet, vibrating his whole body. An elbow connected with his stomach and made him flinch. “Hey, you okay?” Jongdae asked.

“Yeah,” Minseok lied as he turned away from the sight that caused his blood to boil. The wolf had never been so hard to fight before. Human. He had to be completely human here. “But I think I’m going to take my food back to the lounge.”

“What? Why?”

“Is everything alright?” Yixing tilted his head in that way he always did when he was trying to read through the expressions on their faces. It was irritating at times, especially when they didn’t want to talk about whatever was bothering them. He meant well, but he wasn’t learning to become that kind of doctor.

“Yeah, yeah.” Shoving his hands in his pockets, Minseok forced himself to turn away before he stormed across the cafeteria. The sure fire way of having you reject him would be to slam your boyfriend against the wall. Jongdae opened his mouth to counter, but Minseok was already moving into the line, grabbing a faded red tray still wet from the washer and sliding it across the three metal bars that kept the herd of college students at bay. He swiped up a plate with a lukewarm slice of pizza and kept going. Bypassing everything else, the last thing he grabbed was a can of flavored coffee from the open fridge before going to the register.

Jongdae pouted as Minseok waved goodbye and walked out of the building. His grip on the tray was strained, knuckles pale and tendons popping out from under the skin on the back of his hands. This complicated things well beyond the obstacles he already had in his way. And here he had the fairytale in his head, thinking he would simply meet you, continue to “coincidentally” run into you and get to know you until the two of you naturally fell in love and then… well, he didn’t exactly have a plan after that, but now that would really have to be put off while he figured out how to get past step one.

Arriving at the mathematics college where he spent most of his time, he made his way through the halls until he found the lounge reserved for the GTAs. There were tables where they studied and put together lesson plans as well as couches where more naps occurred than other types of casual reclining. Against one wall was a stereo equipped with Bluetooth while a TV and game console sat across the way. It was a room where they could relax and bounce ideas off each other. The place was empty at the moment, most of the usual occupants either in class or eating lunch with their friends.

Minseok sat down at one of the tables. He aggressively chewed on the pizza as he tried not to think about what he saw a few minutes ago. And here he thought eventually telling you that he was a wolf was going to be the hard part. A large group came in then, happily talking amongst themselves. Spotting Minseok, they joined him. Sungkyu took the seat to Minseok’s right and dropped a heavy binder on the table.

“Sometimes I wonder why I took this job,” Sungkyu grumbled.

So much for peace and quiet. Oh, well, hopefully this would serve as a nice distraction. Minseok could go back to planning his next step later, once he’d calmed down a bit.

“Having fun with the freshman?” Minseok teased. As GTAs, that was the main group they taught. Not all classes were bad, but it usually took a while for some of them to realize that college was much more serious than high school.

“Actually, it’s not a freshman.” Opening the binder, Sungkyu pulled out a few papers stapled together. A sticky note covered the name written at the top, but the red ink that dictated the score was out for the world to see. “She’s close to our age, a senior, but she put this class off until the last minute. And I’m starting to see why. I don’t want to fail her, but….”

“Just give her an extra credit project,” Varya suggested between sips of her peach tea.

“Like what?”

Changmin was the first to have an idea. “Have her put together a project that applies the math to whatever her major is.”

Sungkyu wrinkled his nose at the idea. “That sounds complicated. She’s an arts major.”

“Get someone to help her with it.”

“Are you volunteering?” Varya snorted. Changmin was… charming and used it quite well, to put it mildly. “Who is it? Maybe I’ll help.”

Sungkyu peeled back the sticky note. “(y/n) (l/n).”

Minseok nearly choked on his food. Was this fate giving him a Get Out of Jail free card?

Varya shrugged. “Never heard of her.”

“I’ll do it!” The word were out before Minseok could figure out how to say them without sounding overeager. Everyone at the table was staring at him, confused. He wasn’t the kind to volunteer for these sort of things. He wasn’t the kind to add additional interactions to his schedule; he was too much of an introvert for it.

“You hate any sort of tutoring,” Sungkyu pointed out.

“I need it… for my resume.” He didn’t even have a resume. At least not a serious one. The last time he’d put together the paper bragging about himself was for a class three years ago. The file was probably somewhere on his laptop, but he doubted he would ever actually add something like this to it.

While Changmin and Varya still eyed him curiously, Sungkyu simply shrugged. “Whatever. This is only if she agrees to do it, anyway.”

“If she wants to graduate, she’ll do it.” Standing up, Varya threw out the remaining ice in her reusable cup and slipped her bag over her shoulder. “I’ll see you guys later. I’ve got a research paper that’s not going to write itself.”

In an overdramatic fashion, Changmin placed his hand over his heart and looked to the ceiling. “If only they did. My school career would be so much easier.”

Sungkyu rolled his eyes. “And yet completely negate the purpose of it all.” Changmin wasn’t bothered by the comment at all, pulling out his phone and scrolling through his social media as he leaned back in his chair. Sungkyu replaced the sadly scored paper and closed his binder. “Are you free tomorrow a little after four?” he asked Minseok. “I want to try and catch her after class. I’m sure she’ll agree to do the extra credit, but maybe having you right there to say you’ll help will nudge her if she’s on the fence about it.”

“Absolutely.” There was no way Minseok was going let this opportunity go. Maybe this was the better way to go about it. The two of you would be spending time together while he helped you with this project; endless time just you and him. He could get to know you, learn about what you liked and disliked, where you saw yourself going and where you’d already been. Then he could properly fight for your heart, win his mate over the right way. The excitement of what awaited him was almost too much. Tomorrow couldn’t come soon enough.

**

You wanted to disintegrate there in your seat.

Right on the front of the homework you just received back was a sticky note asking you to stay back after class. Never had you want a period to not end, to go on and on in a cycle of torture. You knew it was about it your recent grades. It wasn’t as if you weren’t trying. But this subject had never been your strong suit and recently it had been harder to grasp the concepts. You were an arts student, a photographer. When were you ever really going to need to know how to find the function of x after this?

Unfortunately, the end came and you stayed seated while the younger students happily skipped out of the classroom. When it was only the two of you left, you got up and walked over to the desk.

“That bad, uh?” you said in an attempt to lighten your own mood.

Sungkyu, at least, seemed a little sympathetic. “I’ve seen worse.”

“Well, not everyone can be a math genius.”

“No. That’s why I’m going to give you a chance to make up the points.”

You perked up. This was… somewhat good, given your mind had wondered if he was going to suggest you drop the class for now and try again later, under a different teacher. “Really?” You couldn’t help but feel like a rabbit jumping for a carrot hanging in the air. “Whatever it is, I’ll do it.”

“Good.” Sungkyu reached behind him and plucked up a sheet of paper before leaning back against the desk. “I’ve got an outline here that’ll explain the project in detail.” He handed it over to you before continuing. “The basics, though, are pretty much just write a paper of how the subject relates to your major.”

You’ve got to be kidding me. Clearing your throat, you said, “O-okay. I think I can do that. Except….”

“You don’t know where to start?” Sungkyu guessed. You nodded. “That’s alright. I’m not going to make you do it alone. I’ve enlisted some help for you. Minseok?”

In from the hallway strolled in the very same Minseok you’d run into the day before. There was no way…. You nearly laughed out loud. This couldn’t possibly be a coincidence, could it? But the manner in which he shyly waved at you and fidgeted from foot to foot told you that it might be.

“Minseok will help you with the research and come with ideas. He’ll also help you with the examples that way you get all the points. Is that alright?”

Your stomach did a backflip. This meant the two of you would be spending time together – alone. Which wasn’t anything unusual; you’d had project partners of the opposite sex before, but none of them sent your heart leaping either. Perhaps it would be best to keep this on a need-to-know basis for the time being. Smiling, you looked at the expectant GTA.

“Peachy.”

[getitinbusan]

97 Line :

Jungkook finally gets a night off to hang out with his friends. Fluffy, Smutty One Shot.

•97•97•97•97•97•97•97•97•97•

Jungkook was trying not to let his nerves get the better of him.

Coming back from tour he finally had some downtime and was looking forward to going to the club. It wasn’t just spending time with friends he didn’t see very often, it was getting to see you again.

97 Line Group Chat:

Bam Bam: We’ll be pre-gaming at my place and then heading to the club. I’m bringing Yugyeom, Jackson and his girlfriend and her friend Y/N so Jungkook you’d better be prepared.

Jungkook: You’re sure she’s coming? I haven’t seen her in months. Do you think she remembers me?

Mingyu: I know she doesn’t like me, I tried hitting on her 2 weeks ago and she shot me down. Good luck my friend.

Bam Bam: Jackson says she asks about you all the time. Pretty sure she has a crush on you JK.

Jungkook: Ahhh, I’m so nervous. You all better be good wing men tonight.

Yugyeom: I’ll make sure she has a few extra drinks before we go😉

Mingyu: So 11pm?

Bam Bam: Yep

Jungkook: Let’s Get it

Private Text:

Jungkook: Please make sure Yugyeom doesn’t get her drunk, I like this girl…a lot.

Bam Bam: I’ll watch him.

It was about 10:30 and the meal had just arrived. Jimin always ate fast but Taehyung liked to take his time.

Jungkook sat impatiently knowing it would take at least 20 minutes to get to the club.

What if someone else caught your eye? What if you got too drunk?

Jimin couldn’t stop laughing, “JK, how could she not like you? Just relax.”

Taehyung chewed slowly, “I’m not leaving food on my plate so you’ll just have to wait.”

Taking that as a challenge Jungkook reached over and grabbed his garlic bread shoving it in his mouth.

“I hope your happy, now we’re late and I have gross breath.”

Breathing deeply he got out of the cab. He’d thought about this night for weeks, did he look okay? Was his cologne too much? Did it even matter? You probably weren't even into him.

The door opened and he could feel the pulsing bass through his body, the lights and fog were immediately disorienting.

Was everyone already here or did he have to wait longer to see you?

Walking to the bar the three of them ordered  drinks and started to look around for the rest of the group.

We are bulletproof began playing and the dance floor went crazy. Jungkook felt a surge of pride that everyone was feeling it, he hoped you were here to see.

His eyes skimmed over the crowd, there you were.

At the front dancing, you spotted him too. Pointing directly at him and coming closer you sang in time, “The name is Jungkook, my scale is nationwide.”

He couldn’t help but laugh as you approached singing his own lines to him. God he wanted to kiss you. You kept singing and dancing in front of him until the song was over.

“Hello Jungkook.” spilled from your lips as you smiled. “I was hoping I’d see you tonight, it’s been too long.”

Should he? He put his arm around you in a makeshift hug, “I’m really glad you’re here.”

Yugyeom appeared, slipping in between you he handed you both a shot.

"To friendship", he toasted.

Your glasses clicked in cheers and the shots were downed quickly.

Bam Bam's voice rose over the crowd, "Let’s VIP room!"

“Are you coming Y/N?”

You looked around the room, “I don’t know where Jackson and Y/F/N are, I’ll come after I find them.”

Shit did he just blow it?

“Ok, I guess I’ll see you in a bit”

Walking in seperate directions Jungkook felt his heart drop, he was sure you didn’t see him as more than a friend.

Monitoring the time closely it was a least 45 mins later when you appeared in the VIP with Yugyeom by your side.

Stopping at the bar you were both laughing while taking another shot.

"What an asshole," Jungkook muttered under his breath.

You perused the room until you saw him sitting there frowning. When your eyes locked he managed a smile but what little confidence he’d walked in with was gone.

The waitress followed behind you with several shot glasses and bottles meeting the group at the table.

“Shots for everyone!” Yugyeom called out.

Everyone grabbed one and cheersed, except Jungkook. Feeling tipsy you decided to leverage your liquid courage and take the lead.

“Come dance with me Kookie.”

Off to the side, Yugyeom made drinking motions and threw Jungkook a thumbs up.

Following you to the floor he was hesitant. He wanted nothing more than to be pressed against you but didn't want to take advantage of your state.

“Don’t be afraid to touch me Guk, this is just dancing, we don’t need formalities.”

It was now or never, if he didn’t make a move he’d end up back on tour masturbating to thoughts of how he’d feel inside you.

Wrapping his arms around your waist he pulled you in until your bodies were pressed together. Face to face he stared into your eyes.

“You know I like you right?” he whispered.

“I do,” you grinned, “Do you know how badly I want you Jungkook?”

He started blushing, “I guess I do now."

You began moving with the music, hands exploring each other, trying to make up for lost time.

Turning your back to him you pressed your ass into his crotch swaying to the music. Moving up and down grinding into him you could feel his bulge growing.

Closing his eyes he imagined you doing this in bed. He couldn’t control his erection so he subtly tucked himself into his waistband.

Turning to face him, your hands wandered, moving under his shirt your fingertips traced his abs. Continuing your path you dragged them lower feeling the tip of his cock sticking out his pants. It was so smooth and hard you just wanted it in you.

His mouth came crashing down on yours like he couldn’t wait a second longer. His fingers were in your hair, your head was back and your tongues met in a soft sensual dance.

It felt so good to finally break the anticipation but the taste of liquor was distracting.

How much have you had to drink, was this taking advantage of the situation?

“Jungkook, I’d like to leave with you if that’s ok?”

He nodded in agreement.

“I’ll be back in a minute i’m going to let Y/F/N know we're leaving.”

The minute you walked away Yugyeom approached Jungkook.

“You can thank me later, she’s had at least 10 shots and you can probably do whatever you want with her tonight.”

Shit, there was no way taking you home was the right thing to do. Disappointed and upset Jungkook went outside to clear his head.

He’d waited so long for this night and now you’d only kissed him because you were drunk.

Maybe he should just leave? Sitting alone on the steps outside of the club Jungkook was internally wrestling his desires against his morals.

You looked around the club and couldn’t find him anywhere. Fuck, maybe you’d been too forward with him. You knew Jungkook was a gentleman and now you were cursing yourself for coming on to him so strongly.

You’d already told everyone you were leaving so you might as well just head home. It had been weeks of anticipation for tonight, you were finally going to make your move and now it was ruined.

How did you even fool yourself into thinking that Jeon Jungkook could be interested in you 

Opening the door into the cool night air you found him sitting by himself.

“Hey Guk, I’m sorry if I scared you off.”

You sat down beside him, "I’ve just been fantasizing how this night would play out for a  long time and I got carried away."

He looked at you and reached for your hand.

"Do you really like me? I’m worried that the alcohol is making think you want me more than you really do.”

You couldn’t help but laugh out loud. “Jungkook I think I can handle my liquor a little, I’m no lightweight”

“Yugyeom said he was giving you shots all night?”

You rolled your eyes, “Yugyeom is a dick, he told me he liked me and kept trying to hit on me a while ago. I gave away most of the drinks he bought me because I figured he was trying to get me into bed.”

His thumb rubbed the back of your hand, “So you’re not really drunk?”

You leaned in and kissed his cheek, “Jungkook I’ve had my sights set on you for months, I didn’t want anything to ruin tonight. This has all been planned since I knew you’d be coming here...right down to my lingerie.”

That was all he needed, his lips found yours again and you were immediately lost in each others lust.

The Uber pulled up and honked, startling you when you failed to notice its arrival.

“Who’s place is closer?”

“Too many people at my place,” he moaned. “I don’t want to have to be quiet, can we go to yours?”

Pulling up to your complex Jungkook led you out of the car and up to the door. Digging through your purse you couldn’t find the keys. growing impatient he latched on to your neck and dragged long deep suctioned kisses over your collarbone.

“You’re distracting me Guk, fuck we need to get inside!”

Finally locating them you made it into your apartment and clothes immediately began coming off.

“Bedroom?”

“That way”

Refusing to break contact you fumbled your way towards your room. Once in the door you steadied your feet as he halted the make out session. He cupped your chin and tilted your head to look at him.

“I need you to know how much I like you. I’ve thought about you for months, I've imagined being with you... it kept me going when I was lonely on tour.”

He slowly took off the dress you were wearing and revealed the lingerie you’d bought just for his eyes.

“Fuck, so much better than my fantasies”

Blushing your eyes took in his bulging cock. His black Calvin Kleins were straining to contain his erection.

“Kookie, do you know how many of your damn V-Lives I’ve watched just so I could see you?” 

He ran his hands up your arms and reaching around, unclasped your bra.

Tangling his hand in your hair he kissed you, hard. He moved his lips inch by inch lower and lower stopping at your breasts, kneading and sucking until you were moaning under his ministrations.

Lower again down your stomach, down your abdomen until he got to your clit.

Stopping there he sucked deliberately light enough to tease you, coaxing the juices from your already wet entrance.

Softly pushing into you with his tongue he moaned, “you taste so good, you’re so beautiful”

Your legs shook, struggling to stay on your feet while your body felt like it was floating. You held tight onto his shoulders as he spread your folds and twisted his finger inside you.

“Maybe you should lay down.”

He guided you backwards to the bed, laying you down so your knees were bent over the edge.

“Do you want to cum like this? Should I keep going?”

You could barely find your voice, “please keep going.”

He moved back in, two curled fingers dragging against your soft spot and his tongue flicking your clit relentlessly. It only took a minute to have you hyperventilating. Repeating his name you came on his lips.

He gave you a moment just to be still and catch your breath as he placed small kisses on the insides of your thighs.

“Are you ok?”

“I’m so much better than ok.”

He got up from his knees and you sat up, face to face with his six pack. Sucking red marks onto his abs you hooked your fingers into his underwear. Slowly you pulled them down exposing him bit by bit lowering your mouth with them until you’d taken him all in.

You could hear him slowly releasing his breath as you slid back up to the tip. Popping him out of your mouth you looked up at his face.

“I can’t believe you’re real Jungkook, you are so incredibly perfect.”

He reached down placing his hand on your cheek and smiled.

Putting him back in your mouth you began sucking him until he was hitting the back of your throat. His hand slid from your cheek to the back of your head where he grabbed your hair and pulled slightly.

Moaning at the tension, he clutched it harder, angeling your mouth to make it easier to thrust into.

His hips picked up speed and he was about to cum when he stopped completely.

He held your head still while his cock sat in the back of your throat cutting off your air.

“Don’t move, please don’t move, I don’t want to cum yet”

When he was under control he pulled himself away from you.

“I want you so badly you can’t possibly even know. I just want to fuck you so hard and fill you up until you’re screaming my name... but I’m not going to do that.”

Confused and waiting for an explanation, you moved up the bed to lean on the pillows. Crawling up to lay beside you, his rock hard cock pressed into your leg.

He kissed you, “I only have one chance to be with you for the first time and I want to make love to you."

He kissed you for what felt like an eternity, until you both reached the euphoric feeling of seeing stars in the black void of a blissed out mind.

He moved on top of you until he was positioned at your entrance. Looking you in the eyes he pushed slowly while watching your face for discomfort.

Finding nothing but pleasure in your reactions, he began moving himself, rolling his hips into you.

Neither of you could control your sounds and you found yourselves sweaty and moaning in an act of pure ecstasy.

Bringing your legs up around him his cock hit you over and over rubbing your g spot while his pubic bone rubbed over your clit with each stroke.

Picking up his speed he was reaching his high.

"Can I cum in you Y/N”

Pulling his hair you came for a second time.

“Yes, Yes, Kookie…please."

You could feel the spurts of his release spill inside you before he collapsed on top of you.

Holding onto each other, you rested. Post coital quiet took over the room as you lay trying to regain your strength.

His phone suddenly broke the silence, going off with incessant notifications. He snuggled closer into you not moving to look.

"Just check it already Jungkook it's making me crazy. What if something's wrong?”

97 Line Group Chat:

Bam Bam: JK? Where did you go?? Lol, hope you’re having fun brother.

Mingyu: I can’t believe she’d pick you over me, I’m way better looking. Must be your money.

Yugyeom: You're welcome, I had to get her good and drunk before she’d consider going home with you.

Jungkook: You guys can just shut the fuck up. Have some respect for Y/N.

Bam Bam: It’s…

Mingyu: About…

Yugyeom: Time…

Jungkook: How long did it take all of you to plan that clever response?

Jungkook: You’re all assholes.

Jungkook: Stop texting me.

Jungkook: I'm busy.

Jungkook: WITH MY GIRLRIEND.

[missingartist]

The Witcher’s Mate Chapter 21

It had taken a little over ten days to reach the Witcher stronghold. At day five, Geralt had felt ready to crawl out of his skin and demanded that one of the mages conjure up a portal to take them to Kaer Morhen. The itch under his skin had grown into a raw pain gnawing at him, his dislikes for portal didn’t matter he would just cover his eyes and plunge deep into the gateway. Triss with a piteous frown as she refused to state that ‘both of you need space’ and Yennefer simply smirked and turned away. It meant Geralt spent the next five days barely sleeping or eating; he had gone through a gallon of the smelly gloop to keep the fever at bay. As soon as silver tower peaked over tops of the trees, Geralt charged Roach off in a mad dash to the castle.  Bracken and brambles tugged at his leathers, but he barely noticed them in his focus of her scent. It was everywhere, that blend of apples and the ocean, soothing and heady. But there was something different, something else mixed in with it, tangy and fresh. Zesty and fury like ginger and lime. It has a seductive edge to her usually nubile smell.

His heavy footfalls echoed through the valley as he stomped up the stone staircase and threw open the heavy oak doors as it, they were weightless. The scent of her was enough to send him into a frenzy; it was everywhere. Beads of sweat began to slide down the side of his neck; he had been able to smell her for the last two day, the slight scent on the wind. He had smelt the slight change in her scent, but he couldn’t imagine it would affect him in this way. In his half-fried brain, he half expected her to throw herself into his arms; if she had suffered the way he had, she would be a mess of need. But there was no one to welcome him, just stretch after stretch of empty halls. No Jaskier or Ciri or Vesemir. No Adva. He had caught a glimpse of his old master’s mare wandering around the field, grazing on the wild grass and weeds. Tearing from room to room he searched in vain, ever room he dismissed the scent grew stronger till, at last,  he found them on what had once been loosely called a veranda, that had been repurposed into some sort of outdoors study. Books stacked chest high. Piles of manuscript tucked neatly at the side and stacks of paper protectively held down from the wind by a furious wolves head paperweight roaring at him.

‘Where is she?’ A gruff voice barked out, breaking the three from their study.

Ciri and Jaskier eyes immediately snapped up to the tired-looking Witcher before sharing a dark look. His mentor, on the other hand, didn’t show much as look in his direction, merely turned the page and continued reading. Vesemir didn’t need to see his student to know what sort of state he was in. His voice was like gravel, and there was no energy behind it. Jaskier frowned at his friend and a twinge of guilt; he had been somewhat hard on the Witcher last time he saw him. Geralt looked exhausted, dirty and dusty, hair an unkept mess and harrowed eyes lost their glow but still held that ferrous intensity.

Ciri also saw it, but Witcher eyes also gave her the keen sight to see past beyond the surface, he was barely clinging on to his sanity, his eyes were mad and crazy. It scared her; his eyes had always been impassive seeing them so full with emotion was disturbing.

‘Cooking dinner. Apparently, they don’t like my cooking.’ Vesemir growled out at the young bard; his narrow eyes swept over them before resting on the younger Witcher. The harsh eyes soften slightly as he took in Geralt frame before hardening again, letting them full down on the page with a scowl.

‘Well someone had to tell you at some point, it pretty diabolical. Hello, sweetie, I see you have done lots of research already’ Triss smiled as she slides into the room silently trailed by the violet-eyed mage.

Triss lent in and peaked the younger girl on the cheek before dropping down exhausted into one of the seats.

‘Good. Adva and I were pressed ganged into slating the roof yesterday, I have tar in places I didn’t know it could be stuck, and Jaskier has actually been helpful for once getting all texts from the archive.’ Ciri playful smiled across at Jaskier who sat ideally tunning his lute having given up research several hours ago

‘You let her up on that death trap.’ Geralt growled inching toward the older man.

‘She is a good worker, and the roof needed doing. And don’t give me lip boy you aren’t too big to get a hiding.’ Vesemire stood, chair strapping dangerously on the stone floor as both men took the measure of the other.

It broke him to see his young ward to look so…so broken. His hair was wild and covered in blue smears. His eyes were glowing a dangerous orange and always moving, body twitching with excess energy, but he looked tired, exhausted even, deep bruises had formed underneath his eyes, making them appear sallow and hollow.

‘She could have fallen and broken her neck. She is not a servant for you to order around.’ Geralt snapped edging himself closer to his former tutor

‘Adva wanted to help out, and frankly, if you hadn’t let that mage of yours off her leash, that mate of yours wouldn’t be mopping around the castle looking for a distraction from the shit show that usually comes with your romantic relationships.’ Vesemir spat out.

‘This is not going to end well…but it will make an exciting Ballard.’ Jaskier half-whisper is stunned awe as both Witchers sized up to each other.

Geralt gazed down at the older man, their size had never really come up, there wasn’t much difference in it, but Geralt was just slightly taller, but that bit of height gave him the ability to look down at the older man. Never in his entire life had he wanted to strike him, they had always had a solid bond, a close a Witcher could get to a father and son relationship. With a silent snarl, Geralt gave him one last look before storming off toward the kitchens.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Once upon a time when Kaer Morhen had been a flourishing Witcher stronghold, the kitchens feed hundreds of people. The hearth was large and spacious with room to roast several roasting pigs. There were three large stoves, and an open smoking pit and oven, along with a prepping bench that stretched across the large kitchen and large open window shone light from across the valley where the sun rose, and the sunset providing the kitchen with light every possible moment of the day. Back in Brightwater, this would have been her dream kitchen; it was light and airy with every possible thing she wanted or needed. The one in the brothel was windowless and had what you would barely call a roasting pit which billowed out smothering smoke that blinded and choked her. It made her sad inside to know that the kitchen would only service a handful of people anymore; it seemed such as waste.

Despite her heavy heart, she felt okay, just incredibly numb. Food had no taste; fire had no warmth; the wind could barely be felt against her skin. Even Jaskier’s silliness did not affect her. She knew he was funny, playing the jester to make her happy, it was hilarious, but she had to force herself to laugh, to smile and join in, but she felt cold inside. She was content to hide away in the kitchen pandering to Jaskier need for edible food or help repair the dilapidated castle anything that made her forgot for a brief moment. Forget that she might be a mermaid, forget about Geralt and Yennefer.

‘Adva’

She tensed as she felt Geralt’s gruff tones echo across the pantry. As soon as she turned around, she regretted it, he looked so adoring, so in sorry and it broke her heart. Quickly turning, she forced herself to focus on the meal she was preparing in front of her—a simple meal of leavened bread cakes, eggs, and spiced vegetables. The dried meal had been soaked in oils and herb and roasted in the pit with garlic and sliced figs. The Witchers had been self-sufficient here with various trees and vegetable patches planted which meant her meals could be that much more flavourful and at least better than whatever that dish Vesemire had prepared on their arrival.

‘Look I really don’t want to talk about it.’ She sighed as she placed the bread cakes in a serving bowl and slicing the meat into mouthful chunks if she turned around now she would be a goner, she knew that and kept her gaze trained on the chopping board in front of her.

‘Avda…’ Geralt croaked.

Throwing her knife down, she half screamed in frustration ‘Geralt! It's fine; I get it. You prefer Yennefer to me, it's fine. I understand I am not upset. We will find the book you can break the bond, and you can go off with her. Can we just not talk about it please I just want to forget about it.’ Tears were now welling up in her eyes and threaten to spill onto her cheeks.

‘Adva, please.’ Geralt pleaded. ‘You need to listen to me. We need to talk, please….. I know I messed up by not telling you….but I have been so confused. I have been attached to Yennefer for so long… But all I can think of is you, every fibre of me needs you. You are my soul mate….Please Adva.’

Geralt reached out his bronzed hand and grasped her forearm gently turned her to face him. Blue eyes met gold orbs, and she felt herself melt. The warmth of his hand felt good against her skin; she could help but sigh as the feeling it was the first time she had felt anything in so long, it gave her more pleasure than anything before ever had, well almost. The hungry look in his eyes took her back to that night. She wanted nothing more than to push him down on the table behind him and…. The though were more explicit than she ever thought herself capable of.

It would be so easy to full into his arms and forget the events of the last ten days, but then that violent eyed mage face entered her mind.  

‘No…just no. I can’t; I just can’t be near you right now. Please leave me alone.’

‘Adva…How can I prove to you that I don’t want her, just you, only you.’

‘You didn’t tell me. You go from Yennefer to me because of your ‘bond’, and I won't be there when you change you mind.’ Adva’s voice was barely a whisper.

‘You know that not what this is….I could never do that. Let me worship you my little flower.’

Pulling herself out from his grasp, she could look at him; she couldn’t trust herself to look at him not now. ‘Just…just stay away from me. I can’t; I just can't right now. Stay away from me.’ She whimpered out before escaping out the room into dark ache way to collect herself away from the sounds of crashing furnisher.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

‘Dinner’ Adva called, swiftly made her way to the library and pulled open the dumb waiter and immediately began to offload the food onto the table. It was not a very fancy meal but it smelt good, but she couldn’t force herself to feel hungry. A sickness bubbled in her stomach, and she carried the food to the table, bowl by bowl. She agonised over her discussion with Geralt. Part of her believed him, but the other part felt relieved; she knew this story all too well. It had happened to too many of the girls on the brothel, promises of love destroyed them, made them totally dependent and vulnerable to the men that promised them everything, only for them to be cast them off and move onto a new woman leaving behind a wreak. It happened to one girl, in particular, Soffie, a pretty young thing, 18 and bright-eyed whisked off to some exotic land but an elegant merchant. The blonde woman child followed after him and returned 18 months later looking ten years older having whore her way across the country to get home. Soffie was never the same as that her eyes lost that spark in her eyes, flirted with died eyes as she took man after man to her room. She refused to be like that, but every part of her schemed she was doing the wrong thing.

The food smelt wonderful, full of fresh herbs and toasted spiced, the buttery bread gave an oddly comforting aroma, but she felt no hunger or want to eat in fact she felt sick thinking about have to force it down her throat. Jaskier slid in next to her and Ciri wedged herself next to her, sandwiching themselves either side of her. Geralt stalker over and slide himself opposite her, staring darkly across at her.

‘Have you cleaned?’ Yennefer asked in the manner only suited to a queen, arrogant and dismissive. ‘I am glad to see you putting the creature to work.’ She sneered at the group huddled around the table.

Five pairs of eyes glared up at Yennefer as she sneered down at Adva, her eyes slide over to the prepared food, and her lips curled back over pearly white teeth. Adva was torn between wanting to shrink back in her seat and wanting to throw the plate of glazed vegetables into her perfect face or pour the bitter ale over her head and ruin the stunning dress that clung to her body. If you could call it a dress, it was a thin strip of silk that wrapped around her shoulders and dipped down to her naval where it was tied in an attractive knot and bellowed down into a floaty skirt. Truly, Adva had never wanted to harm someone as severely as she did now.

Instead, Adva lifted her shoulder and pulled on a piece of bread, nibbling on a corner. It was soft and chewy, but it turned to ash in her mouth. ‘Have you found anything?’

‘Not really, just a lot of lore and eyewitness story.’ Ciri breezed as she poured himself a long drink. ‘

‘Did you find anything more in the archives’ Adva smiled sweetly as Jaskier who was devouring a bread cake laden with the roasted vegetables and meat.

‘Just this…It an accord from the last war with the Merfold and the Humans. It nothing interesting but look at the signature.’ The bard pushed the scroll into the centre of the tabled.

It was an elegant piece of material. It was not the usual discoloured yellow but a pale green. It shimmered in the sunlight, and the smell of seawater still lingered in the air. Reaching out a pale hand Adva brushed the paper with her middle finger, the silky parchment slide across her flesh as she traced the signature on the paper. The curl of the letters spelt across the bottom of the page next to a scruffy scrawl.

‘Cersi…’

‘It appears Cersi and Mousesack acted as arbitrator between the two parties. The Empress Azalea, First of Her Name, The Protector of the Deep and Waves, Queen of Navacis, Sovereign of Sirei, Mother of all and ruler of the Great Sea met with Leopold the Ready to discuss the peace treaty between the two kingdoms.’ Ciri explained pushing the document toward the Mage and the Witcher.

Geralt skimmed the document, narrowing his eyes at the lengthy text—a mix of sonic script and Novigradian. How a text like this got into the archives was strange, it should have been locked in some vault or the archives at Oxenfurt. Underneath it was the incomplete family tree of Empress Azalea, deep crinkles wove their way onto his brow as he gazed down at the small pile of papers. A page about the full history of the high court and the great families of the Great Sea. Mermaid were notoriously private, which meant little was known about them and that their research would uncover nothing that would illuminate the situation. Something caught the corner of his eyes, something that felt important but he couldn’t exactly put his finger on it.

‘So you think that Cersi became friendly with some Mermaid who gave her a child to look after who she abandoned to a torturous mage and then brothel.’ Vesemir scoffed, scooping up another palate full of meat and vegetables.

‘Cersi put her in the brothel to protect Adva. The mermaid physic emits pheromones which could have put her in danger from others…it’s the only thing that would make sense.’ Triss smiled across at her young pupil.

The caramel eyed mage took the hand of the young mermaid. The poor girl's hand was icy cold and sweaty. For her sake, Triss hoped that Cersi had placed her in that brothel for that reason, it was the only thing that made sense, a less Cersi had a darker motive which she prayed to god she didn’t, she didn’t know how much more Adva could take.

Ciri glanced around the table, all, ever Yennefer seemed to be in deep thought, somberly munching on their food. Pondering on the fact, Ciri spoke ‘Have ever you thought that maybe Cersi is her mother? And she had an affair with a male mermaid.’

‘Titian. No, I would have smelt it’ Geralt muttered pushing the document away from him. ‘Besides being a Mage it's unlikely, most are infertile having gone through their…. Transformation.’ Geralt muttered, glancing behind him to the stoic raven-haired Mage.

Adva knew what that entailed, Cersi had spoken a little about her regret about seeking out her transformation and losing her womb. Part of her often wondered if Lord Brightwater and Cersi kept her for the temple of mages to keep her from that vicious alteration to her body. Part of her wanted to say that if she had been training in the Magely arts that she would have refused the procedure, but there was a lot, she would have changed. She would like to be taller and slimmer; she was all curves and thick body parts. She would keep her eyes and lips, and her noise though slightly too big gave her character. Her breasts were too small and hips too big. Maybe she would have changed them; her womb didn’t seem that big a sacrifice to her, hers didn’t even work anymore that’s to Tradi’s nightly beating.

Vesemir bleached loudly ‘It not impossible. Merfolk is the oldest document race. Many scholars believed they were the first race before some cast themselves out of the water and crawled onto the land. It would not be surprising if they had access to some sort of fertility magic or something. I once met a sailor who claimed that a Mermaid cast as a spell on his seed and he went on to have 13 children.’ The older man shrugged dipping his break in the mean juices.

Yennefer look down at the girl who was looking gloomily poked at her food, casting a curious eye over her figure. If that was true, the girl might be a useful tool in her pursuits of a family. A smirk stretched across her lips as the girl glanced up. The smiled faltered as Adva blue eyes met her violet orbs. A swirl of angry and hatred burnt brightly. The little fish was starting to turn into a shark.

‘Cersi smell is wholly different from Adva; it improbably they are related. Mothers and daughter usually have the same base smell.’ Geralt gruffly added.

Vesemire nodded, started to know one another piece of meat

‘What about I ask Crispin? He might have something in his book collection that could share some province.’ Adva piped up. ‘The Earl, he did say that he had a large collection of books on creatures and plants, he hinted about some rare pieces in his collection.’

‘Oh, it Crispin now?’ Geralt snapped. Jealous surged within him, she could barely speak his name, but she freely spoke about a man she barely knew.

Triss rolled her eye at the stropping Witcher, ignore the sound of several doors the slammed behind him ‘I will send a message to him, he should be back at his manor by now. He might be able to help…I hope.’

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Adva paced. Might be a word she had come to hate. Might be able to help. At this point, hope wasn’t enough. Everything that she found raised more question then answers. If she really was a Mermaid, had her parents given her to Cersi? Or was she stolen? Was Cersi her mother? The question was enough to bring her to tears. Up until now, her life had been uneventful; in the past four months, there was enough to last her a lifetime. Taking a deep breath, she inhaled the heady scent of oak and spice. Geralt. Angry tears welled up in her eyes, shining in the moonlight. Gods! Her body was burning with a need for Geralt while her mind was screaming at her to run away from Geralt and Yennefer as fast as she could. She hadn’t seen Geralt since he stormed off during dinner. Yennefer, on the other hand, had stayed in the library till they all retired for the night. Yennefer had been very quiet, but the glares she sent across the table where vicious and menacing. Part of her wanted to run a hide somewhere, but a bigger part of her wanted to rip her apart. It scared her. Never had she ever wanted to hurt anyone with such a ferocity of feeling, she could feel the energy simmer under skin throbbing away violently.

Throwing open the window, the cool breeze caressed her skin. In the darkness of the surrounding wood, a figure stood vigilant beneath a mighty oak. Even in the darkness, she could see the outline of a man bundled up in a fine black cloak his face hidden in the shadows. She didn’t know why, but it gave her an overwhelming sensation a dread. The man had no right being up here, it was the hidden sanctuary of the school of Wolf and the long-kept secret to the world, how a man had wandered up here and found it scared her. Even at this distance, she could sense the man's face twist into a scowl as he tenses himself.

She watched the shadow hesitate against underneath the door—the wind dying in the air.

Creak! The floorboard screamed under the immense weight of a heavy boot as they moved through the corridor.

Whirling around, wide eyes fell on the door. The thick line of light shone out across the darkens floor shifted as a figure passed over it. She knew, she just knew who it was. The figure shifted outside the door wavering on the threshold. Geralt was looming in front of the door. Her breath caught in her chest as she watches the shadow shift from side to side. A soft groan vibrated through the wood as a weight lent against it. They both knew they could sense the other separated by a thick strip of wood. All he had to do was to turn the handle. All she has to do was to turn the handle. But they didn’t. A low growl grew from behind the door, shaking as it built in intensity, making the air thick with electricity.

Adva gulped as she watched the shadow retreat from the door before the warm orange glow disappeared descending her into darkness, only the pale light of the new moon illuminating her room. Turning back, the figure was gone leaving the lonely oak tree surrounded by a deep dark shadow. Blinking several times, she refocused on the patch of dirt where the man stood to find nothing but a lonely branch waving in the wind.

She was losing her mind, squeezing her eyes shut, she slipped under the quilted blanket, snuggled down into the bed and flung the cotton over blanket on top of her shivering body as anxiety twisted and knotted in her stomach.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

I am so sorry I have taken so long to update. I finally got my qualification, and I am now a teacher! This has meant I have been trying to set up my classroom and set out a lesson for next year and as a lot of them are practical and need equipment, it meant I had to try and sources all the stuff. So much fun! --__-- After about Jully 22nd I should be able to relax and get back into a solid update a week.

Just to let you know shit is going down next chapter so please stay tuned!!

As always please leave comments and likes. If you want me add you to the tag list please direct message me. Lots of Love!

@threepupsinapuddle @broco8 @introvertedmouse @luxyash @vikingsbifrost @pastelblogsposts @wastingmypotential @whitespring21 @ayamenimthiriel @wonderlandfandomkingdom @shesthelastjedi @fandom-lover-4 @sageandberries-png

[lailyn]

Sugar & Spice

For @ubiquitous-girl

"We have frozen naan bread at home."

"We have water at home," Loki countered, tipping his chin at Stephen's glass. 

"Loki, we can't not drink water when eating out."

"And yet you're arguing the soundness of eating bread, a staple of your diet." 

"You're the one who keeps saying we Earth people need to expand our palate beyond the conventional," Stephen grumbled. "I’m all for supporting the local food scene, I just don't see the point of ordering something we can make at home."

"Oh I doubt that very much," Loki said dryly. "You burned my toast this morning."

Stephen's lips twitched as he tried not to smile. Finding himself on the verge of failing, he held the menu closer to his face to hide his failure. "It wasn't my fault. I got distracted."

"Really? By what?" Loki asked innocently.

Stephen shrugged. "I'd rather not say. Can't play favourites."

Loki's eyebrows rose to meet his hairline. "Favourites?"

"With all your...endowments."

At the extremely pleased look on Loki's face, Stephen braced himself for Loki's natural confidence to start singing self praises but to Loki's credit, none came forth.

Whenever Loki's silence lasted long enough for his smile to turn sad like that, Stephen knew that was his cue. 

"Let's order. I'm starving." Stephen picked up the menu again and flipped through it hastily. "What's our protein of choice for tonight? Chicken tikka again?"

Loki made a face. "We could have made that at home, helped ourselves to one of Wong's frozen dinners like we did last week."

Stephen froze. "That was you?"

"He didn't seem to mind."

Stephen set the menu on the table with a laugh of disbelief, "Loki, that's stealing."

"I replace everything I take," Loki said with a flippant shrug. "Your underdeveloped palates just couldn't tell the difference." 

He closed his menu with a loud clapping sound. "I'm not in the mood for meat." 

"We can go somewhere else?" 

"No, no. I know what I want." Loki was about to scratch the air to catch their server's attention when he paused. "Do you?"

Stephen allowed his shoulder to relax, relieved for once that he was spared the burden of ordering. Half the things on the menu he could not even pronounce. "Surprise me."

“It’s your funeral, Strange.” Loki raised his hand. “Excuse me, Miss?”

A server approached the table, grinning from ear to ear. “Are we ready to order?”

Loki gave the young lady his most charming smile in return. "Yes. We will have the chana masala, paneer tikka, aloo gobi and...naan. Lots and lots of naan, please."

"Plain, butter or garlic, Sir?" 

"All three?" Loki looked to Stephen for affirmation but before Stephen could give it, Loki had already made up his mind. "All three."

"Anything else? Drinks?"

"Masala chai for me, please. Stephen?"

"Anything that isn't spiced?"

"Mango lassi?" Loki suggested. 

"Anything that isn't sugary?"

"Salted lassi, then."

Stephen doubted such a drink existed and hence looked at the server to be sure, but she was already writing the order down. 

"This is going to be interesting," Stephen muttered once the waitress was well on her way to the kitchen with their order. 

"You're not going to ask what I ordered?" 

"Something chickpea-y, something cheesy, something potato-ey."

Loki chuckled. "I've never seen you this unimpressed by a meal you haven't eaten yet."

"I trust you," Stephen said. He glanced around at the tables of hungry patrons still awaiting their food. "Just not the waiting time."

"I have a feeling we won't be waiting for very long," Loki said mysteriously.

Stephen blinked a few times. "Don't tell me. I don't want to know."

"I can't let my enchantment skills go rusty, Stephen."

Stephen held his hands up in the air. "I don't have a problem with it. I'm used to getting dirty looks from people everytime we eat out."

"People give us dirty looks?" Loki's eyes darted nervously around the crowded restaurant. "Why?"

"Loki, I was just kidding."

"You don't think they recognise me, do you?"

Stephen reached across the table for his lover's hand. "Loki, hey. Calm down."

Loki retrieved his hand rather forcefully to fist clumps of his hair at his temples. "I shouldn't be seen with you."

"Loki…" Stephen groaned.

"Excuse me," a voice interrupted. 

"Do you mind? We're having a private conversation here," Stephen growled.

"You...don't want your food?" The server asked uncertainly. 

Like a mask sliding into place, Loki’s face was once again a facade of charm and joviality. "Of course we do." 

The server began unloading her tray, and with each dish placed in front of them, the enticing scent of spices and aromatics rose in clouds of steam that had Loki’s mouth watering.

"That was fast," Stephen said, surveying the lavish spread in front of him suspiciously.

Loki rolled his eyes. "There is no pleasing you, Doctor."

"The website said this was a fine-dining establishment when I made the reservation," Stephen said, beginning to sound cross. "They'd better not serve us reheated curries, you know how sensitive you are."

"Norns, give me strength..." Loki groaned. "Stephen, the cushions you're sitting on are vintage Mughal-era cushions." He lifted his dinner plate and flicked the edge of it with his fingernail. The ring it made was unmistakably clear. "And this is real bone china."

"Okay. I will reserve my opinions until after I've tasted the food."

"As you should. Everything has to be evidence-based with you, doesn't it?" Loki sassed. 

"You know me so well," Stephen said coolly. Being the methodical and safe man that he was, he decided to start with the dish that appeared the least threatening: the aloo gobi, a classic potato and cauliflower dish.

The curry tasted heavenly, hitting all the right notes with its strong turmeric and coriander game against the equally heavy ginger and cumin aftertaste. 

"They actually made it to order," Stephen said, pleasantly surprised at how fresh and vibrant the dish tasted.

"Poor Stephen," Loki murmured. "You need to go to more restaurants where the chefs aren't quite so lazy."

"Those kinds of restaurants are expensive." 

Stephen ripped into a piece of bread and groaned in pleasure at the first mouthful. It was the fluffiest, butteriest naan he had ever tasted, but when he reopened his eyes, the rapture dissipated. "Don't."

"Don't what?"

"Don't make that face," Stephen said, his voice low, his tone flat. "Don't feel sorry for me. I've lived the jetset lifestyle before. I don't miss it."

"I am not feeling sorry for you. If anything, I feel sorry for myself." Ignoring his steaming chai, Loki filled his own glass from the water decanter and drank almost half of it in one gulp. "And just to make things clear between us, I don't miss it either."

Stephen took his time, but when he next spoke, his eyes were a lot kinder. "Sometimes I forget you're a prince."

"Was," Loki corrected. "I am a nobody now."

"Don't say that," Stephen rebuked.

The restaurant chose that exact moment to begin playing music, a soothing, melismatic sitar recital that tugged on the strings of Loki’s heart. He forced himself to smile. "I misspoke." 

He scooped some of the chickpea masala onto a triangle of naan bread and held it out. "Here, try this." 

Stephen saw the chance to salvage the night and opened his mouth to gladly accept the offering, regretting his decision almost instantly.

Loki watched in fascination as Stephen spluttered and changed the colour of his face several times. 

Midgardians were such wondrous, colourful creatures.

“Are you alright, Stephen?” he asked curiously.

Stephen lifted a finger as if to say 'hold on', but Loki was having far too much fun to stop.

"You look very flustered. Not many things can do that to you."

"Only the spiciest pepper on this planet " Stephen gasped. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“Oh, very much,” Loki agreed, marveling at the gorgeous flush of Stephen’s face. “Red is a good colour on you.”

“What?” Stephen wiped the sweat out of his eyes. 

“You’re breathtaking.”  

And before Stephen had the chance to react, Loki's lips were already on his.

Just like magic, the burning in Stephen’s mouth and throat receded. 

"Thanks," he mumbled, touching his fingers to his mouth to see if he could still feel them.

"Are your lips still numb?" Loki teased.

"More from the kiss than the spell," Stephen murmured. "Not that I'm complaining, but I thought you said no PDA?" 

"I got distracted," Loki confessed. "You are making it very hard for me to behave in public."

A lascivious grin slowly spread over Stephen's face.

"What?" Loki asked.

"Look around you," Stephen urged.

Loki caught a glimpse out of the corner of his eye of a familiar iridescence. "The Mirror Dimension? So naughty, Doctor." 

"My lips are still numb. It's going to take a lot more than a kiss for me to recover." Stephen grabbed Loki by the waist and hauled his lover into his lap. "Care to help me?"

"What about dinner?"

"We can always get back to it after dessert."

"Hmm," Loki mused.

"Unless...you're not feeling it?" Stephen asked hesitantly.

Loki continued to play idly with Stephen's hair.

"Loki, I won't force you." 

"No, Doctor. You wouldn't."

"Are you disappointed?"

"No." Loki shook his head, his eyes shining. "By the Norns, no. You protect me, and you respect me. Now I don't know why, but..."

Loki held the tip of his finger to Stephen's lips to keep him from interrupting.

"My whole life had me thinking I was not right the way I am." He gazed into the kindest pair of eyes he had ever seen. "You're the first who made me feel differently."

"I don't know if that's enough.”

Loki sighed and touched his forehead to Stephen's. "You make me feel . That is enough."

"You deserve more than enough." Stephen drew in a shaky breath. "You deserve to know how I feel."

"No, I don't - I don't want to know."

"Too bad. You have no choice."

Loki clasped his hands to his ears. "Shut up." 

"You're not a nobody, Loki. You are a somebody who means a lot," Stephen said quietly. "To me."

"Shut up, Stephen."

"I love you, Loki." Stephen's voice cracked. "I love the hell out of you."

"I love you too," Loki said thickly. "So much."

Stephen's heart soared, but there was still something he needed to say,

“So you gotta let me take care of you, okay?" He cupped the sides of Loki’s head. "Will you give me that?”

Loki nodded, wiping his hand across his eyes, but Stephen’s attention was already elsewhere, focused on sliding the first piece of paneer tikka off its skewer. 

Stephen then placed the cube of grilled cottage cheese between his lips, ignoring the spice rub that was already burning holes on his tongue.

“You are going to feed me, aren’t you?�� Loki asked, sounding more excited than he had the right to be. 

“Every damn piece,” Stephen promised through a lipful of cheese, and set to work. 

[xmxisxforxmaybe]

Happy Birthday, Baby Girl

Summary: What happens when Merriell “Snafu” Shelton has to get creative during a quarantine to make sure his girl has a very happy birthday?

Word Count: 3868

A/N: Reposting bc the original moodboard was too hot to handle according to the community guidelines ... 🤦‍♀️

Warnings: Smut (18+ please), but this is also tooth-rottingly fluffy at times

* * * * *

You eyed Merriell warily once more, unable to stop yourself from asking him for the third time in a row if he was sure he didn’t want to come along.

“Sometimes, baby, ya make things exceptionally difficult fo’ da wrong reasons. Now, go.”

“But it’s my birthday.”

Mer closed his eyes in a prolonged blink as his hands moved to his hips. He opened them slowly and fixed you with a stare before he said, as if he were talking to a child, “Don’t ya think dat’s why I need ya to go by ya’self today?”

You narrowed your eyes at him, thinking for a moment before it dawned on you that he was trying to surprise you.

“Ohhh. Okaaay,” you said, giving him an exaggerated wink.

He laughed and lowered his hands, closing the distance between you so he could give you a kiss on the forehead.

“Take ya time or all ah dis is in vain.”

“Two hours?”

He nodded, a soft smile on his lips.

“Two hours,” you confirmed with a resolute nod.

With that, you flounced out of the house, your mind working to figure out what he was up to as you hopped into your car. Since the quarantine had begun, you and Merriell made sure to get outside, driving to an old walking trail about 20 minutes from your house. It was nice to include the outdoors in your routine, although that often meant it was just a new backdrop for Merriell to seduce you.

You absent mindedly rubbed at your back, wondering if your scratches from the tree he fucked you against last week had fully healed. Either way, it was worth it.

Even though you missed Merriell, it was nice to be alone. By the time you made it back to your car, almost three hours had gone by. That was an hour more than he had insisted he needed for your surprise, so you drove home quicker than usual, unable to stifle your happy grin as you blasted your radio, cheering when 50 Cent’s In Da Club came on, leaving you to decide that maybe a quarantine birthday wasn’t the worst thing in the world.

You cut the engine and walked up the stone path that wound its way from your, well from Merriell’s detached garage and as you rounded to the front porch, you stopped in your tracks. Merriell was sitting on the porch, his arms spread out across your well-loved blue bench. He was dressed in jeans and a black t-shirt, just for you. You loved the way that man looked in a fitted black tee.

“Hi-ya, baby. Nice walk?” he asked as he brought his glass of whiskey to his mouth and took a long drink.

“It really was! And did you have a nice afternoon? Did you dooo anything special?”

Merriell smirked, “Stop fishin’ fo’ information ya ain’t gonna get til I’m good and ready.

“Speakin’ of which … put dis on,” he said, leaning forward and dangling a black sleep mask from his thick index finger that you mostly used for sleep.

You quirked your brow and stepped forward and pulled the mask on. You heard him finish the last of his drink before he stood and took your hands to guide you into the house.

“No peekin,” Merriell warned as you grinned.

“I’m kinda excited, to be honest.”

Merriell leaned over and kissed your temple, which was still sweaty from your long hike.

You knew by the distance you walked that you were at least in the bedroom, but when he closed a door behind him, you knew you were in the bathroom.

He lifted the blindfold from your eyes and you looked at him curiously as he moved to stand in front of you, his hand coming under your chin to lift it gently so your eyes were locked on his. His other hand rested on your waist, and you watched the movement of his mouth as he began to speak.

“Now, listen. I hate dat I can’t take ya out on ya birthday because believe me, you deserve the world, Y/N. So I’ve come up with somethin’ I hope ya gonna like. Get ready like ya got somewhere to go. Ya birthday present starts as soon as ya come outta dis bathroom. Okay?”

“You really didn’t have to—”

“Don’t ya dare start with dat shit,” Merriell said as he smiled and reached up to cup your face in his hands. His eyes flicked from yours then to your lips before he leaned in and kissed you.

In true Merriell Shelton fashion, it wasn’t just a kiss—it was a kiss.

By the time he pulled away, you were more breathless than you were during the entirety of your hike.  

“Shower,” he said, giving your ass a smack before he quickly opened then shut the bathroom door.

* * * * *

15 minutes later, you emerged from the bathroom, and your face lights up as you look around the bedroom. Clad only in your towel, you glance at the floor to see wildflowers shaped in arrows pointing to the bed.

As you step around them, still smiling, you pick up the brand-new bra and underwear set laid out on your comforter. They were a gorgeous shade of grey-blue and made of a delicate lace that surely had Merriell some kinda way as he picked them out. Dropping your towel, you stepped into the panties and then wriggled into the bra.

On the bed, there was another arrow of flowers that pointed to the closet. You were giddy as you rushed over and turned on the light. Hanging in the middle of your clothes was a bright pink garment bag. You pulled it off the hook and gasped with delight at the sexy new dress he had picked out. Pinned to the front of the dress was a note.

“This is as far as I dare go, darlin—shoes and whatever else it is you do to always look so good is up to you.”

You giggled and put the dress back as you rushed out of the closet to finish getting ready.

About a half an hour later, you gave yourself one last look in the mirror and gave yourself a whistle of appreciation. Mer knew how to pick a dress—just the right amount of tight, just the right amount of skin, and made of a material that made you want to run your hands all over it.

You had chosen a pair of red heels, figuring that Mer’s goal was two-fold: to do something sweet for your birthday, but also to make his cock hard without you even touching him. You weren’t about to disappoint.

Finally ready to leave the bedroom, you laughed as you noticed a note on the door: “Do not come out until you are ready!!!”

Shaking your head, you open the door slowly and give him a warning shout.

“Heeey! I’m comin’ out!”

Merriell appeared at the end of the hallway and his eyes widened at the sight of you. He gave you an ear-piercing wolf-whistle as he clapped his hands and made his way down the hall.

“Wow, baby girl! I mean, I knew ya’d look good, but goddamn. Gimme a spin!”

You obliged and twirled, only to be immediately swept into his arms.

“Ya smell so good,” he said as he began kissing your neck, his cock already half-hard and pressing into your hip as he rubbed against you.

“Speaking of stuff that smells good?” you said, your eyes shut as you enjoyed the feeling of his lips on your neck. Part of you wanted nothing more than to have him give you that good lovin’ that would have you on cloud 9 for the rest of the night, but your stomach was putting up quite the protest once you caught of whiff of whatever was in the kitchen.

With a last nip to your collar bone, Merriell pulled himself away and proffered his arm to you.

“Right dis way, lovely.”

You laughed at his antics as he escorted you into the kitchen, then your mouth fell open as you looked around. He had bunches of colorful wildflowers in as many vases, mason jars, and glasses that you owned. Clustered between were tea light candles, which set the mood perfectly as the afternoon sun faded into its evening light.

And on your little kitchen table, Mer had set out a formal place setting complete with perfectly triangular cloth napkins and a full set of silverware. You noticed he used your grandmother’s blue and white china and that made you feel a little sentimental, which wasn’t such a horrible thing to feel on a birthday.

“I’m … speechless, Mer. This is—thank you.”

Merriell was grinning as he ushered you into your seat, and your eyes lit up at the big serving dish full of pasta.

“Oh— da bread!” he said as he dashed over to the oven and pulled out the home-made garlic bread you had smelled as you came out of the bedroom.

“Everything looks so good. Ten times better than a restaurant!”

“And no one is gonna give us dirty looks if I become inclined to finger ya unda da table.”

You laughed, and silently thanked whatever powers that existed that Merriell Shelton was yours—no one had ever made you happier.

Dinner was delightful—Mer was an excellent cook and your conversation was as easy as it always was between the two of you, despite the seriousness of the topic. There was only so much either of you could take of the Coronavirus before you started to search out the most ridiculous news stories of the day to share with each other to see who found the funniest. It had become a bit of a competition between the two of you, but it was all in good fun.

One bottle of wine later, dinner was finished, but just as you were about to stand and stretch your legs, Mer insisted you stayed in your seat.

“Got one more thing,” he said as he dropped the dirty dishes he cleared away into the sink.

He made his way to the fridge and opened it, and his rustling clearly indicated that he had hid something in there from you.

Amusedly, you watched as he brought out a dish that had been wrapped in an inordinate amount of tinfoil.

“Don’t look at me like dat—you are da one who can’t be trusted not to snoop,” he said as he peeled off the layers to finally reveal a cake.

“Ooo, that looks yummy,” you said, sitting up a little straighter in your chair.

“Betta’ be. Pain in da ass to make and keep hidden,” Merriell said with a teasing grin.

“Is it? Oh, it is!” you said with delight as Merriell sat the tiramisu cake down in front of you, it’s delicious creamy-coffee scent enticing you enough to make you close your eyes and inhale as Mer put a candle into the middle and lit it.

He was standing behind you with his hands on your shoulders. He slowly began to slide them down your arms until he was able to bend next to your ear.

“Make a wish,” he said in a low voice that was really more like a purr than an enounced set of words.

Leaning forward, you closed your eyes and thought about everything you were grateful for and wished only for another year of the same.

Merriell laughed softly near the side of your face as you turned to thank him again, and he reached out to take a hold of your chin so he could press a sweet kiss to your lips.

“Ya welcome. Seein’ ya smile was worth da three cakes I had to scrap.”

“You’re a perfectionist and you know it,” you said with a light smack to his ass as he walked over to cut the cake, your eyes still trained on the way he looked in those jeans as he cut you a piece of cake.

“Dat’s true. Dat’s true. But I don’t hear ya commentin’ on it when I’m bein’ ah perfectionist between those sweet thighs ah yours.”

“Mer,” you moaned out at both the taste of the cake and at his words.

He shot you a shit-eating grin as he took his seat and dug into his own slice of cake.

As it was prone to doing, the air between you and Merriell shifted as you enjoyed your birthday cake.

The conversation faded and glances of longing took its place. You watched the way Merriell’s tongue traced along the tines of his fork as he licked at the remainder of a bite of cream.

Merriell stopped eating, mid fork to mouth, as you scooped up a bit of fallen cake and cream with your forefinger and popped it into your mouth, sucking your finger clean.

It didn’t help that you looked up at him and smiled around your finger before returning to your cake.

“Did, uh, everythin’ I bought ya fit all right?” Mer said as he cleared his throat and set his fork down next to his clean plate.

“It did,” you said in a low voice, one that Merriell knew meant you were just about done with playing polite for the evening.

“I don’t suppose ya might wanna show me how well it … all fits?”

“Well … since you asked,” you said slowly, “I do particularly like this little pearl that dangles … right … here,” you finished as you slowly pulled the front of your dress down with your finger, stopping beneath the bottom edge of your bra.

Merriell’s eyes had changed from sweet to predatory as he took in the curve of your breasts and the detailing on the lingerie he had picked out.

He blinked as his trance broke when you let your dress pop back into place as you leaned back in your chair.

“I’m going to clear away these dishes,” you said with a sly smile as you stood and gathered up your cake plates. “Whoops!”

Merriell watched as the fork fell from your fingertips, and he watched as you set your grandmother’s plates on the kitchen island, and he watched as you exaggeratedly bent over to retrieve that fork, your dress riding up high enough for him to just catch a peek of those blue-grey panties that framed the curve of your ass perfectly—

In all of .5 seconds, everything on the kitchen table crashed to the ground and you were thrown onto it with Merriell half crawling on top of you as he kissed you.

“My … cake!” you managed around his tongue as he licked at your lips.

“Bake ya ten more,” he panted before he shut you both up with his tongue swirling in your mouth, kissing you like it was your last night on earth.

By the time he had moved from your mouth to your neck, you had forgotten about the cake. Merriell was clutching at the fabric of your dress, running his hands up and down your body, just like you knew he would. What you could never replicate in your mind, though, was just how good his hands felt.

Moaning, you wrapped your legs around him and ground into the front of his jeans. He pulled back just long enough to yank his black t-shirt over his head. You ran your hands up and down his arms, squeezing at his biceps while his attention returned to your neck, his tongue dipping into the hallow of your throat before he licked all the way up to your chin.

“Mer,” you breathed, your hips grinding into his.

“What ya want, birthday girl?” his voice rumbled next to your ear before he sucked on the lobe.

“Your tongue on my clit,” you said without hesitation.

He chuckled, “Done,” before he straightened and scooted you to the edge of the table, his hands sliding up the fabric of your dress, letting it pool at your waist before he pulled it out from under your ass.

You raised your arms and he pulled the dress off, his eyes taking a moment to roam over your underwear.

“Fuckin’ gorgeous,” he said, his eyes locked on your face as he spoke, making you flush with pride.

“Lay back.”

You did, your head resting just at the edge of the small, but sturdy table.

Merriell stayed standing as he kissed down your stomach in a heated hurry. He slowed down as he moved to your thighs, kissing and nipping at them as you spread your legs wider and wider. He reached down and gripped your feet, pulling off your heels and massaging your arches before he dragged his fingers up your calves.

He pressed into the flesh of your thighs and moved his hands to your panties, sliding one of them under the fabric to grasp your mound. He pressed his thumb into your clit and listened as you breathed out, sighing at his touch.

He slid his thumb farther down into your folds, testing your wetness. He grinned as he felt how slick you were and he pulled his hand away, bringing his thumb to his mouth to suck off your arousal.

Mer licked his lips, thinking that the taste of you beat anything he’d ever whipped up in a kitchen, and he gripped the sides of your panties so he could slide them off your legs.

Dropping to his knees, he was now at the perfect height to eat you like the birthday goddess you were.

Hooking your legs over his shoulders, he leaned in and sucked on each of your outer lips, playing with them before he released them to place a flat-tongued lick up the center of your pussy, lapping up your arousal and swallowing before he reached up to spread your lips.

You were clutching the edge of the kitchen table, lost to the heat of his mouth as he worked you over in true Merriell Shelton fashion—licking, sucking, and teasing until you were a panting mess, whimpering for release.

“S’okay, baby girl—come any time ya want,” he hummed over your clit, finally pulling it into his mouth, sucking the swollen flesh until you squeezed your thighs against his face, shaking and crying out his name.

He eased up, swirling his tongue over the sensitive area as the last waves of your intense climax subsided.

He wiped his face against your thigh before he kissed up your body, leaning over you so he could rub his face in the space between your breasts and lick at the exposed cleavage.

“Free me,” you said with a smile as you leaned up on your elbows.

Mer grinned and reached back to unhook your bra, your breasts falling to the sides as he tossed the bra behind him.

He gathered them up in his hands, kneading them tenderly as he moved to work your nipples to a peak.

You laid back again, your hand sliding through his curls as he teased you with his tongue. He always looked so good, smiling around your nipple as he looked up at you, his eyes so full of love and want that it never failed to make you ache.

“I want you, Mer.”

“Here?” he said as he let your nipple go.

“Why not?” you replied wriggling your hips against his still-jean-clad cock.

“And take off those pants niiice and slooow,” you added, sitting up on your elbows again.

Merriell laughed, his eyes such a sparkling green as they crinkled at the corners.

“Dat how ya want me to fuck ya, too? Nice and slow?”

“No,” you said as you watched his fingers open his belt and then unbutton his jeans.

His thumb and forefinger pinched the zipper and he slid it down, nice and slow, the sound of the teeth opening almost deafening in the quiet of your kitchen.

“Mmm,” you hummed, your eyes zeroed in on where his cock was about to spring free.

Mer’s mouth popped open in a lazy half grin as he hooked his thumbs into the waist of his jeans and slowly slid them from his hips.

He wasn’t wearing underwear, so you licked your lips as his cock bounced, finally free from its confines.

Mer bent to shimmy the rest of the away out of his pants, then he straightened, popping his hands onto his hips while you admired his body.

“Fuckin’ gorgeous,” you parroted from earlier, your eyes trained on his face as he didn’t bother to hide the million-dollar smile you elicited.

Merriell moved to edge of the table and you laid back, hooking your legs around his hips as he rubbed the tip of his cock through your wetness, his hand working his cock to squeeze free some precum.

He pushed into you and you both groaned at the satiation of an ache that could only be soothed but the sensation of him filling you and your heat enveloping him.

“Ya best hang on, baby girl,” he managed before he pulled out and slammed back into you, your back scooting just a bit up the table.

“Fuck!”

“Uh-huh. Dat’s exactly what I’m gonna do.”

Merriell began to move with conviction, his hands under your legs, hooked at your knees so you were open to him. You knew there were going to be bruises where his hips pounded into you, but what a sweet reminder they would be of just how goddamn good it felt to be fucked by your Cajun.

“Ya always feel so fuckin’ good around ma’ cock, baby girl.”

“So good,” you murmured, concentrating on the way he felt moving inside of you and on the way your body just wanted to build itself back up to come for him again.

The kitchen filled with a chorus of moans and groans, of dirty praises, and of sweet mutterings of passion, and when Merriell slowed his pace, his balls tightening so he knew he wasn’t going to last much longer, he leaned over you, deepening the angle of penetration and begged you to come for him again.

“Come on. Come for me. Come for me, Y/N.”

He pulled you up and against him, your bodies pressed together as he ground into you, your ass bracing against the table as you dug your heels into the backs of his thighs.

He kissed you, then, deep and passionate. He kissed you until you came, your mouth pulling from his to shout his name as your eyes rolled back.

“Yes, baby girl. Fuck, yes,” he hissed as he came after you, his hot cum spurting against your tight walls before slowly leaking out when Merriell finally pulled away, needing to sit down.

You turned to look at him, sprawled back in the chair as his mouth was open wide to catch his breath. He met your eyes and huffed out a laugh as you started to giggle.

“Happy birthday?” he questioned.

“A happy fucking birthday, indeed,” you replied, running your hands through your mussed hair as you shook with more laughter.

[willow-salix]

Isolation update, loosely titled "John and Selene parenting Alan".

Day 87 of Isolation on Tracy Island.

“I’m starving.”

“How nice for you,” Scott commented.

“You know where the kitchen is,” John added.

“Yeah, go make yourself a sandwich or something,” Virgil suggested.

“Make a sandwich?”

“Yes, a sandwich, you know, two slices of bread, filling in the middle, it’s hardly an alien concept,” Gordon laughed. “Make me one too while you’re at it.”

“Make it myself?”

“It’s not that hard, Allie. You need to learn to fend for yourself sometime,” Virgil told him patiently.

Alan went quiet then sneakily took out his phone.

“I swear, if you text her to get her to make you a sandwich, I’ll get EOS to wipe all your saved game data,” John warned him not looking up from whatever he was working on on his tablet, his uncanny ability to see everything still working on earth without Five.

“Like I was going to do that,” Alan huffed, but he did slip his phone back into his pocket. “I can make my own food if I want to.”

“Sure you can,” Gordon’s tone said he’d be more inclined to believe that they had Nessie living in the cove.

“I can and I’ll prove it,” he declared, stomping down to the kitchen.

I walked in about five minutes after this conversation and flopped down on the nearest couch, it didn't matter that Gordon was already there, I just sat on him.

“What’s going on? What did I miss?”

“Alan is apparently capable of making food for himself,” Scott told me. "He's proving it to us right now."

“Seriously? You guys let him go into the kitchen by himself?”

“He’s old enough to make a sandwich,” John pointed out.

“It’s also Alan,” I argued. “I’m gonna keep an eye on him and make sure he doesnt hurt himself in there.”

“Don’t help him, I know you and so does he. You’ll watch for no more than two minutes before he does something stupid, likely on purpose because he knows that you’ll take over and do it for him,” Scott warned me.

“I’m not going to help, I’m going to supervise.”

They all gave me that look that said they didn't believe me. Honestly, I didn’t believe myself either.

“OK, I might help him but just a tiny bit.”

“No, I'm being serious, he needs to learn to fend for himself a little, he can’t rely on us forever,” Scott insisted. “Don’t help him. Keep an eye on him if that will make you feel better, but you have to sit on a stool and stay there.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “Dude, did you just tell me what to do?”

“Run...away…” Virgil hissed under his breath.

Scott took his advice and took off, yelling something about hearing Grandma calling.

“Wimp,” I muttered.

Gordon sniggered.

“He’s right though, you need to let Alan do things for himself,” John said.

“You’re not stupid enough to give me an order, are you?”

“No, I’m telling you the truth and asking you to be sensible.”

“Fine, I’ll try.”

“Want me to come with you?” he sighed. I nodded, I was going to need back up, I could feel it in my bones.

By the time we got to the kitchen Alan had already started and by this I mean he had dragged out a number of bowls and was standing in the pantry staring at the shelves.

He poked his head out as we entered and looked visibly relieved.

“She’s not helping you,” John told him. Alan slumped.

“We’re supervising to make sure you don’t kill yourself,” I told him, taking a seat at the table.

“I don’t need supervision, I’m perfectly capable of making pasta without help.”

“Of course you are, forget that we’re even here, we’ll just chill over here with a cup of coffee,” I assured him.

“I’ve got a recipe,” he informed us.

“That’s good,” John nodded, "recipes are there to help."

“Cornflakes will work as breadcrumbs, right? They’re basically the same thing.”

“I-”

John interrupted me with a gentle nudge of his elbow.

“Whatever you think, Allie.”

“I need gloves, cooking can get messy!”

As we watched he dug around in the first aid kit we kept in the cupboard because…boys and a kitchen, and pulled out a pair of gloves. Examination gloves. Whatever.

“You gotta cook the pasta first, right?”

We stayed silent, John reading something on his tablet which I was pretending to look at too but really I was watching the baby drag a massive bag of pasta out of the pantry and proceed to pour it into a bowl.

“Pasta cooks in water,” he reminded himself, turning on the tap and filling the bowl with water. He glanced from the stove to the microwave and back again.

“Please don’t let him put the bowl on the stove, please don’t let him put the-” I chanted under my breath, breathing a sigh of relief when he shoved the bowl in the microwave. Maybe he did have a little common sense, maybe they were right and he could do this by himself. Had I been enabling and babying him too much? Not that the others could talk considering I had to look after all of them just as much.

“About eight minutes should do it,” he said confidently. “I know Virgil did that with that other pasta, you know, the one that looks like a...blob. A squiggly blob. This isn’t blob pasta but it should work the same.”

I glanced at John who shrugged. He had no idea what blob pasta was either.

Alan stood and watched the bowl going round in the microwave for a few minutes with such concentration that I wondered if he’d hypnotised himself. I nudged John who looked over, but upon finding no blood on his brother, shrugged and looked away again.

“Oh, I forgot the aluminium foil,” Alan located the tin foil in the fifth place he looked, the freezer for some bizarre reason I wasn't about to try and figure out, and ripped off a large square.

With some difficulty he constructed something that looked like a very thick, very lumpy tin foil bowl with a flappy lid.

He rummaged in the pantry again and emerged with a jar of sauce, red so I'm assuming something tomatoey, and glanced at the label.

“No added sugar? Is this sauce broken? Everything needs sugar. I’d better add some, just to be on the safe side.”

“John,” I whispered, nudging him again.

“Just leave him, he’s fine.”

“Then you can deal with him when he’s bouncing around the house at 3 am on a sugar rush,” I sniffed.

John looked as if he wanted to deal by leaving the planet…again.

I watched as Alan liberally sprinkled sugar in a thick layer on the bottom of the tin foil bed.

“Needs cheese,” he decided and went to the fridge. Did he get the nice edam, the cheddar or the parmesan? No. He selected three packages of plastic, pre sliced burger cheese and some of Gordon’s squirty nightmare and brought it back to the counter.

He unwrapped all three packs of cheese and began to layer the slices on top of the sugar in his homemade bowl.

“More sugar I think, it looks like it really needs a sugar crust.”

He reached for the sugar again and noticed his cornflakes for the first time.

“My breadcrumbs!”

He selected a spatula and proceed to lift up the entire cheesy, sugary mess and, holding that in one hand, opened the box (I say opened, but read ‘rips open the box with his teeth, spilling them everywhere as the sides give way’) and crumbles a thick layer onto the tin foil with his hand. Handful, crush in fist, dump onto foil, repeat.

Eventually he appeared satisfied with this and slid the sugar/cheese pile back on top of the cornflakes.

“Perfect. Now, sauce.”

If I had thought he would do the sensible thing and mix the sauce into the pasta, I obviously didn’t know Alan, because being sensible when cooking is not in his genes. He opened the jar (with much difficulty and a very quiet swear word that he thought we didn’t hear) and dumped its entire contents into the bowl.

“Awesome, look at me, I’m cooking!” he beamed proudly at his food monster.

“Yeah you are,” I agreed as cheerily as I could force out between gritted teeth.

“Deep breaths, love,” John whispered.

“You’ve said that before and it didn’t help then either,” I shot back.

He raised an eyebrow. “Yes it did, I can think of at least three times when that was very good advice.”

“Well I wasn’t thinking of those times, I was thinking of times that involved your brothers.”

“Oh, then no, but anything is worth trying.”

“Noted.”

The microwave dinged and Alan popped it open, grabbing the bowl.

“OWW!”

I was halfway out of my seat when John caught my arm and pulled me back down.

“Don’t make me sit on you,” he threatened.

I sighed and sat back down again.

Alan glared at the bowl like it had betrayed him, offended his ancestors and told him that the Cavern Quest servers were down.

He sighed heavily and poked at the pasta with a knife, a very sharp knife that I didn't believe he was mature enough to be holding.

"He knows how to use lasers to cut through metal, he can handle a knife," John reminded me.

"Only because you guys are stupid enough to give them to him," I argued.

"I’ve no idea if it’s cooked or not.”

Obviously deciding to risk it he picked up a large spoon which at least had draining holes and proceeded to ladle the pasta out in big, dripping spoonfuls (rather than using a colander like a sane person to drain the entire thing in one go) and dumped it one by one on top of the sauce.He didn't look like he was enjoying himself.

He sighed again, poking at the cheese. “There’s like, not even a five percent chance that this is going to work, is there? No chance at all. Absolutely none.”

He looked so defeated that I just wanted to hug him.

“Be strong, you can do this, he has to learn on his own some time,” John patted my hand encouragingly. I laced my fingers with his and held on tight for dear life, needing his strength and support more than I had ever done in my life before.

“More cheese will help, cheese fixes everything.” He grabbed the can and squirted the entire thing, slowly but surely, with many disgusting noises, on top of the pasta. He then sprinkled more sugar on “for luck” and added another layer of cheese slices.

“They do garlic bread with pasta don’t they?” he asked himself. Obviously deciding that yes, they did, he found a bread roll in the cupboard and hollowed out the middle.

Curious as to just what the heck he was trying to do, I peeked over John’s tablet, watching him like a hawk.

He scooped out four big spoonfuls of butter and dumped them in a small bowl, then squeezed out half a tube of garlic paste, mixed them together vigorously and then spooned the mess into the center of the roll.

At a loss as to what to do with his garlic bread bomb he popped it on top of his creation and stared at it for a moment or two.

“Oh! It needs to be toasted!”

He reached for the chef’s blow torch that lived beside the stove.

“Al-” I began but was silenced by John’s hand over my mouth.

“He has a rocket, he can handle a little fire.”

“Gahhh!” Alan waved his hand frantically, trying to put out the flame where he’d set fire to his glove. “Oww!” he yelled as said glove melted and welded itself to his palm.

I looked at John, both eyebrows raised communicating perfectly well, without words, the fact that I had told him so.

John dropped his head into his hands, muttering about idiot brothers.

Undeterred Alan artfully charred (burnt) the top of the bread roll and then began wrapping up his tin foil parcel, squeezing it, compacting it down small, and then added more foil.

“Can you put foil in the oven?” he asked us.

“Yes, you can,” John answered for me, knowing I wouldn't stick to just one bit of helpful information. “But you can never, ever, put metal in the microwave.”

“Ah, yeah, cool cool, I knew that, I was just testing you.”

“Sure you were,” John patted my knee again, reassuring me that everything was fine.

Alan picked up his aluminum foil wrapped parcel, holding it like a baby and looked around for the oven. Now, this is a big house, with a lot of people to cook for, so we have a lot of options here.

Unfortunately he selected the wrong one.

“1000 watts, that’ll do it.”

“No, Allie, that’s-”

He slammed the door shut and pushed the button.

Ping! Ting! Little sparks of lightning erupted in what was actually another microwave, not an oven at all.

Another spark, this time erupting from the microwave itself, not inside it, firing off towards us.

Alan ducked like someone had opened fire from outside, crouched on the floor, giggling nervously as the scary electrical box continued to conjure up random sounds and flickering lights.

Smoke was rising and, finally sensing that full disaster was imminent (good danger spotting skills there, babe, wouldn’t think that disasters were your job) John yanked me off the stool and pushed me under the table just as the microwave let out one last, long, loud, kitchen rumbling bang and went dark, smoke puffing out of it like a dejected steam train.

I picked myself up off the floor, using a hand on John’s head to steady myself and surveyed the destruction.

John did the same, staring at the bent door of the microwave in utter disbelief.

I opened my mouth but he hushed me with a finger on my lips, his eyes closed, praying for strength.

“No, don’t say a word.”

“Woah,” Alan coughed, flapping his hand at the offending smoke as he got to his feet, glancing at the remains of the thing that had turned out not to be an oven after all. “I think I’ll have to leave that alone for now. Any chance we can get Virg to pick up some take out?”

(This was inspired by a post my kid read out to me from a GQ interview with Robert Pattinson, I just adore that chaotic idiot. You can read it here.)

[noncommited-writer]

Ok if ur still doing drabbles: King!Tony and pining servant!peter. Would be amazing. Wow u write really fuckin well. Holy moly. I’m a big fan.

Ahhh! Thank you so much!!! 😘❤️😊I appreciate it!! Sorry for the lateness though!

--

People will say that King Stark is ruthless, cold, calculating and unforgiving in every aspect. Stemming from how he handles his legendary battles and leads his charge with unwavering strength and confidence, he can be easily misconstrued as a warmonger, out for nothing but blood and power over all lands. People will call him the ‘Merchant of Death’.

However, many people within his kingdom will say otherwise. His own people hail him as a peacekeeper and benevolent king, who wants nothing but his kingdom to move forward and succeed.

It’s the reason why Peter, son of Parker, a measly new loyal servant to the kingdom, is infatuated with his king. Serving under his rule and ready to listen to commands, Peter finds himself eager to be the new servant to the Stark castle. However, being trained under his harsh supervisor, Hogan is both exhausting and daunting. He only accepts people who are prim and perfect, strict to all the trainees under him as the household expects nothing less.

So imagine his surprise when he surpasses the other trainees and gets pushed into the dining room, carrying trays of King Stark’s dinner to him. He’s thrown into the fray without getting a second to get his head on straight.

His hands are shaking when he carries the trays over to the unoccupied seat, awaiting the man to come from his chambers for dinner. It must be the nerves from working for the first time, not because he’s intimidated by the king. Definitely not that.

He sets out a steaming bowl of soup with a side of garlic bread, a cup and a bottle of red right next to it. Peter settles down in the corner of the room, as per Hogan’s instructions. He’s supposed to be at King Stark’s beck and call, every second ready for any command, hence why he’s scurried off to the corner, out of the King’s sight but always ready.

The moment the King enters the room, Peter feels his breath taken away. He’s seen him many times all over the castle, but he’s never had the guts (or even the right) to go up to him and introduce himself, even if his attention is the only thing he’s wanted so badly ever since he saw the king circle his rounds around the kingdom.

The king likes to be in touch with his own people, get into the root of problems and gain trust amongst his domain. How can Peter not swoon for a man who spends hours at orphanages and helping poor townsfolk on streets?

The man takes a few steps into the room and almost instantly—like a metal attracted to a magnet—his warm brown eyes go to Peter hidden in the shadows. Gaze piercing, his movements are regal and fluid as he walks over to the table, eyes not once straying. The poor servant can do nothing but blink and bow his head awkwardly in respect.

He only looks away when he pulls the chair out for himself, settling down in the intricately carved wooden chair.

The king looks down at the food, silent. Peter nearly jumps out of his skin when he hears a snap.

Peter holds his breath.

Peter is waiting for the moment the ruthless king appears, the one who comes out during fierce battles and brutal meetings between different kingdoms.

Peter is waiting for the man who’s powerful enough to rule a kingdom and countless acres of land.

The king has his hand up, a finger gesturing for Peter to walk over to him. “Come here.” His voice is nearly emotionless.

Peter swallows hard. Getting to his feet, he quickly approaches the table.

“Yes, King Stark?” he asks, looking over the food to see if he missed anything. When the king doesn’t reply, Peter looks up. What he sees makes his heart skip a beat. He meets friendly, warm brown eyes and a small smile.

“I have not seen you around the castle before,” the man states, too handsome for his own good with his brilliant eyes and neatly groomed beard. Peter nods once, “I am new here. Sir Hogan has been training me for the past few months, your Majesty.”

The king smiles wider at that and for the second time, Peter finds himself breathless. His smile became even more dazzling, lines crinkling at the corners of his eyes, white teeth flashing under his pink lips. The king actually laughs, like an improper child who’s merely spending time with his friends. “I nearly can’t bear the title ‘King Stark’ from my own people, so please feel free to drop the ‘your Majesty’. Treating me with such respect isn’t necessary when you already clean up after me and heed every order.”

Peter blinks. Sir Hogan did not train him enough to handle the king himself. “What do you mean, King Stark?”

The man glances to the side, and raises a hand to the chair for Peter to sit. The younger man frowns. He was trained to not sit in places he’s not supposed to, but he is not supposed to go against the Kings order either.

“Sit. I could hardly care less if Happy trained you not to.”

Peter pulls out the chair and takes a seat, deciding to follows the king’s orders. “Happy?”

“Sir Hogan,” he clarifies before reaching out to take the bottle of red. He uncorks the bottle and pours himself a cup, eyes glancing over to Peter who stays silent and waiting like the good servant he’s trained to be. “I merely meant that treating me like I’m better than you isn’t really proper if you already do things for me without much prompting.”

Peter flushes, “It is the job, your Majest—” he hears a disapproving click of the tongue, “King Stark.”

King Stark closes the bottle and places it down.

“It is your job, yes, but I think it is only fair I treat you and others with respect.” King Stark cocks a brow, as if challenging Peter, and brings the cup of wine to his lips. Peter doesn’t move or give a reply, scared of saying the wrong thing to the king on the first day.

“How long have you been in the castle?”

Peter perks up, “Only four months.”

The king furrows his brows, “Surely I would have seen you somewhere? I usually know all of the people living under my roof.”

Peter purses his lips, looking down at his knees. “What’s your name?”

“Peter, son of Parker, King Stark,” He says, loud and clear.

“Why haven’t I seen you around, Peter?” At that, Peter feels warmth crawl up his neck. How can he tell him every time he sees the king nearby, he runs in the opposite direction? Always terrified at the idea of meeting him.

“I-I don’t know. Maybe you’ve just been kept busy.” Peter looks back down to his lap, unable to handle the heady gaze King Stark directs at him.

“No, I don’t think I have.”

A pause. And a clink from the cup being put down.

“It’s odd, because every time I come down to the servants’ quarters to meet with Happy, I always see this young man run in the opposite direction. I never get to see his face.” Peter whips back up. King Stark is smiling, a teasing grin on his face. Peter sits up in his chair, his hands flying around, “I don’t understand what you’re talking about—oh!”

Peter knocks over the cup in his flurry of motion, red wine splashing over the table and running down the edge, pouring down onto King Stark. Peter feels his heart drop to his stomach. The poor teenager, in fear of seeing anger, scrambles out of the chair to kneel down in front of King Stark, a handkerchief from his back pocket now in his hand.

“My-My king, I apologise for any inconvenience I must have cost you, I’ll—I’ll pay for everything,” Peter splutters, red blooming across his cheeks in mortification. He dabs his hankie quickly on King Stark’s wet thigh, stained shirt and ruined fur coat, red seeping into his very expensive clothes. He slowly looks up, meet King Stark’s eyes; they are peering through him, a twinkle of something not unkind within them. He doesn’t seem angry or upset. In fact, he seems more amused.

“Good to know my servants can move quickly.” He laughs, looking down at Peter without a hint of malice, who just flushes even brighter, frozen on his knees. King Stark stands up from his chair, and pulls Peter up by the arm gently.

“Come help me choose my clothes.”

Peter squints, unsure if he heard him correctly. “It’s the least you can do for spilling wine all over me.”

Peter frowns, “I think the least I can do is to wash the stains out or clean the wine.”

King Stark chuckles, pulling him along to the corridors, “I doubt you’d make a dent in these stains.”

He guides Peter through the hallways of the castle, getting closer and closer to King Stark’s private wing. Peter doesn’t struggle or disagree to anything he says, even if it goes against the rules Hogan put into his head. Besides, it’s not like he can. The king has his hand wrapped around his wrist, dragging him quickly like two young teenagers sneaking out in the dark.

It certainly felt like it. With King Stark chuckling every time he looks at Peter’s baffled face, the way they’re rushing down the halls as if running away from something. Like a secret between the two of them.

They make it to the room, and Peter takes a moment to marvel at how gorgeous and luxurious everything in the room is. King Stark zips straight to his closet room, opening the door to a large room filled to the brim with clothes. Peter can see all sorts of expensive pieces, silks, furs, and fancy suits he sees King Stark wear at formal events.

The older man turns on the spot, a smirk on his face as he throws his arms wide. “Choose. Anything at all.”

Peter stares at him, timid but excited. When he does nothing but cock a brow, Peter finally lets himself relax a bit. He trudges slowly to the wall of blouses, glancing back to see the king gracing an expectant smile. Peter scans the shirts, all ranging of different colours.

One certain shade catches his eye and he reaches for it. A look burgundy blouse that seems to match King Stark’s golden rings. He takes it in his hands, looking over it with an appreciative glance. He turns around, only to squeak when he comes chest-to-chest with a shirtless King Stark.

He only cracks a grin, taking in Peter’s startled expression. He nods to the shirt, “Is that your choice?” Peter meekly nods. King Stark reaches out, and their hands brush.

They look up at each other.

When he stares at Peter, his eyes are still the kind pools of brown, deep and understanding. Peter feels like he’s dropping down into an abyss when he stares into the enveloping darkness of his eyes, with no way of knowing how long he’ll fall. It’s inviting.

Slowly, King Stark’s smile falters, orbs becoming glossy the longer he stares at Peter’s face. Only then, Peter looks down to see that King Stark’s gentle large hand is still touching his own. At that, King Stark takes the shirt and pulls away.

Clearing his throat, the moment vanishes. And Peter is left off-kilter.

“Great choice. Now I know which servant to go to when I need an outfit. I really wouldn’t mind having someone qualified to choose my clothes for me,” He says, as he shrugs on the shirt. Peter is relieved to see that he’s already changed his pants when he turned around.

Watching Tony button up his shirt brings up an indescribable urge in Peter. Without knowing why, Peter steps in his space, nudging his hands away to button the shirt himself. He can feel King Stark’s eyes glued to him, but he keeps focus on the buttons.

Once done, he leaves his hands flat on his chest, looking at the small expanse of skin peeking out from his collar.

King Stark swallows hard and mumbles, “Call me Tony.”

Peter peers up at him, lips gaping. He nods fervently.

King Stark—Tony beams.

Suddenly, they both have a feeling this won’t be the final time Peter will be in his private quarters.

[trysomecats]

(Equation of a Lie anon) It was 1D and I'm pretty sure it was like Louis being a sub and failing a math test and then lying about it. Then his doms make him quit soccer?? Sorry if that's way vague it's been a while 😅😅 Also thank you for answering, you're super sweet!

Ah, yes, now I remember! I did remove that fic off of ao3 (for personal reasons) However, I have no problem with posting it on Tumblr, so here you go!:The Equation of a Lie

Summary: Louis’ grade in mathematics is slowly declining. If he doesn’t do something about it soon, his doms will make him quit the footie team. When he fails a major test, he keeps it from his doms, planning on retaking it behind their backs to save his grade. Unfortunately not everything goes to plan.

“Now, I have your tests to hand back. Most of you did very well, the class average was beyond exceptional. However, if you feel that you did poorly, you are more than welcome to talk to me and make arrangements to retake the test on Monday. After you all receive your tests, class is dismissed.”

Louis felt himself sigh internally with relief. Hopefully he counted as ‘most’ of the class. To be honest he hadn’t studied as much for this test as he should have. Maths was never his strong point, not to mention it was terribly boring. It also didn’t help that the professor, Mr. Winston, was a major ass.

Unfortunately when Louis received his test, his stomach dropped when he saw what his grade was.

One of the biggest expectations Harry and Nick had for him was to get good grades. School was important, they’d explained to him, especially university. This math class was the only class that he didn’t share with one or both of his doms. Naturally he’d slacked off a bit, knowing he wasn’t under their watchful eyes. His notes become shorter and careless, as did his studying.

Now, however, he was experiencing the consequences of his behavior. They would surely make him temporarily quit the footie team until he could bring up his grade, or worse make him stay off the team permanently as punishment. It was hard to tell, because Louis had only been their sub since June, four months ago. They were strict, but only when need be. Louis tried his best to behave for them, even if his new lifestyle was taking some getting used to. He hadn’t been planning on finding his soulmates so soon in life, but apparently fate decided differently.

Louis hid the test in the very back of his folder. He waited for most of the class to retreat before going up to his professor’s desk.

“Um, Mr. Winston?”

“Hmm?” The professor looked up. “Ah, Louis. I’m guessing you want to retake the test?”

“Yes please,” Louis nodded hurriedly, glancing at the clock. His doms would get here pretty quickly, and he didn’t want them to overhear the conversation. “You said I can retake it on Monday?”

“That’s right, you can just stay and take it after class. First we can go over any questions you have beforehand. You should look over your test this weekend though, and make notes of what you did incorrectly. Try to figure out the problems yourself.”

“Right,” Louis said quickly when he caught sight of his doms approaching the doorway. “Well, thank you Professor, have a good weekend!”

“Louis,” Professor Winston said sternly, halting the boy in his tracks. “Make sure you get that test signed by your doms as well, alright?”

“Y-Yes Professor,” Louis said, feeling like a rock had fallen into his stomach, and also getting a bit angry. Winston was always more unfair to subs than he was to doms. While it wasn’t considered uncommon for a professor to request a dom’s signature, it was still a rather dickish move.

Louis all but ran from the room, stopping at the sight of his doms. They had their hands entwined, looking at him with beaming smiles.

“Hi Love,” Harry kissed his cheek. “How was class?”

“Good!” Louis answered far too cheerfully. “Great, even.”

“I never thought I’d see the day where you answered so positively about a math class,” Nick said, taking his turn to kiss Louis’ cheek as well. “I take it that means you did well on the test?”

Louis swallowed, forcing a grin. “Yup! I guess all that studying paid off.”

“Just like we told you,” Harry said with a nod. “Hard work always pays off in the end. That’s why we’re so persistent, not because we’ve got sticks in our arses.”

The sub flushed, remembering a past argument with his doms in which they had withheld his phone until he’d finished his literature homework, prompting Louis to insult them in such a way as Harry had said. He’d lost his phone for a week and gone to bed with a sore bum that night.

“Well, it’s the weekend now anyway,” Louis reminded them. “We have two days to forget about school.”

“That’s right, was there anything special you wanted to do?”

“I was thinking,” Louis bit his lip as an idea came to mind. “Maybe I could see Niall? It’s been awhile since I’ve visited him.”

That wasn’t a lie at all; Niall wasn’t going to school right now, and Louis missed him dearly. He could visit his best friend, hang out for a bit, have him forge a signature for the test…it would be a good visit, really.

“That sounds like a lovely idea,” Nick smiled at him. “I’m sure Niall will be thrilled to see you.”

…

Niall ended up being very thrilled to see Louis, that is until he found out the real reason for his friend’s visit.

“I don’t get it, why can’t you just show it to them? If you’re allowed to make it up, they shouldn’t be too mad…unless you muck up the second attempt, that is.”

“Niall, you don’t know Harry and Nick like I do. They’re very insistent that I keep up my marks. Besides, they’ll find out that I’ve not been studying as much as I should be, and that alone will screw me over.”

“But why do I have to sign your test?”

“Because,” Louis said, shoving a pen into his friend’s hand. “Professor Fuckface knows my handwriting too well, and I’m shit at impersonating anyway.”

“Alright fine,” Niall consented, ”Give your test here then.”

Louis left Niall’s feeling quite content and confident that he could keep this whole math fiasco under the wraps. So long as he studied hard and did well on the retake, everything would work out just fine.

“I just hope everything goes well,” Niall muttered once the test was signed. “I don’t want my doms finding out. They wouldn’t really approve of something like this.”

“Niall,” Louis tsked. “Nobody will find out. Even if they did, I wouldn’t tell who signed my test. You’re completely safe in this whole thing.”

“Okay, I guess that makes me feel better,” Niall said, his smile returning. “Want to play fifa now?”

Louis grinned. “Let’s do it.”

…

It was three days after retaking the test, on Thursday evening, when the test had once again made an appearance into his life, despite him thinking it was all over with. Footie practice had been from three to five, and now Louis was on his way home.

Nick or Harry would often come to watch the end of his practice and escort him home, but today neither one showed up. Louis didn’t think too much of it though, and even felt proud that his doms trusted him enough to make it home by himself. He was always telling them that it was pointless for them to come, seeing as their flat was just a block from the university.

His stomach was definitely ready for food, and he hoped that Harry was making something good tonight for dinner. It was usually ready by the time he got home from practice, so his mouth was already watering at the possibilities.

To top off his already good mood, tomorrow was Friday which meant the weekend was practically here. This weekend Louis wanted to do something special with his doms. Perhaps they could go to the city’s amusement park, or have a picnic on the beach.

“I’m back!” Louis called, dropping his sports bag to the floor and kicking his cleats off. He grinned at the smell that had taken over the apartment, as it was obvious that a pot roast was in the crock pot. That meant garlic potatoes, crisp buttered bread, and a caesar salad were also in the works.

“Hazza? Nick?” He called out, as nobody had rushed out to greet him like normal. The sub meandered through the hall and to the kitchen, seeing his guess had been correct, as dinner looked almost done. There was no Harry in sight though.

“Come join us in the living room Louis!” Harry’s voice finally called out from the living room. Louis grinned, exiting the kitchen at a hurried speed so that he could see his doms.

“Hi guys,” Louis pecked Nick’s cheek and gave Harry’s arm a squeeze. “What are you doing out here? Dinner smells so good Haz, I’m starving! Coach had us run such hard drills today, but I did really well…”

The sub trailed off a bit, especially when he realized that neither boy was smiling. “Um, is everything okay?”

He hadn’t misbehaved today, had he? Louis wracked his mind for anything that could have happened today. He’d done all of his morning chores, behaved during his classes, answered each text his doms had sent to his phone…he’d been good.

“It sounds like you had fun at footie practice,” Harry finally said, though his voice didn’t contain any warmth. “Which is good, seeing as you won’t be going back anytime soon.”

Louis still wasn’t comprehending what was going on. “Huh?”

Nick cocked his head to the space in between he and Harry. “Sit down, Louis.”

The sub did as he was told, now feeling a bit cautious. What on earth had his doms in such a somber mood, and what was with the comment about footie? “Is everything okay?”

“Everything was okay,” Nick told him. “That is, up until about an hour ago, when we received a call from your math professor.”

Louis felt his face go white.

“He had some very interesting news,” Harry continued from where Nick had left off. “You see, he called to inform us that you failed the test that you took on Monday…re-took, actually. He suggested you be set up with a tutor immediately, seeing as you’re on the verge of failing the class entirely.”

Louis’ lips were parted slightly as he stared back at his doms. His brain was trying to process a dozen thoughts and emotions at once. He had been sure that this second time taking the test had gone well! This was not good, not good at all.

“It’s quite peculiar actually,” Nick said. “Professor Winston was under the impression that we knew about your struggles with the material, seeing as he has your old test, apparently signed by the both of us….”

“I think we both know that neither Nick or I signed that test,” Harry’s voice was low. “So now, Louis, the floor is yours. We demand an explanation immediately.”

The sub resisted a squeak, his mouth feeling way too dry. His mind was whirling, trying to come up with something reasonable to say. Evidently he was already quite screwed.

“I- I thought I had it under control,” He soon blurted out. “It was- I studied some more, and I thought I would do better. I didn’t want anything to get in the way with foot-”

“Well it’s a very good thing that you won’t have to worry about that silly sports team any longer,” Nick said. “You’re going to leave your phone down here and go upstairs to the guest bedroom.”

“Nick and I are going to eat the delicious meal that I’ve prepared,” Harry continued. “You, meanwhile, will get dressed in your pajamas and stand in the corner of the bedroom. Right now!”

“Y-Yes Sirs,” Louis’ felt his voice waver as he rushed to do as he was told.

The sub was unable to stop the tears from rolling down his cheeks as he changed into pajama shorts and a t-shirt before heading to the guest bedroom. Nobody ever went in here much, as they all occupied the main bedroom. This room was more or less only used for isolation punishments.

Once he was in the corner, nose pressed against the wall, Louis cried quietly. He felt very remorseful of his actions. If only he had just informed his doms straight away about the first test…they would have been a little upset, but nothing like this. There were a lot of behaviors that his doms disapproved of, but lying and deception were probably the worst.

His stomach grumbled, because he could still smell the delicious pot roast downstairs, but he would not be having any of it. This was not at all how Louis had expected his evening would be going. He’d been thinking more along the lines of a yummy dinner, hot shower, and lots of cuddles and kisses.

Now Louis’ stomach churned. He had never done something like this before, so he was unsure of what his punishment would be. A spanking, most likely, and obviously no more footie for awhile.

No more footie…

Louis let out a choked sob.

Missing dinner wasn’t that big of a deal. The sub knew he wouldn’t be able to stomach anything anyhow.

…

After dinner, as promised, Harry and Nick came upstairs.

“Harry and I have been talking, and your punishment has been decided. Now Louis, we’ve had many chats about your role and rules as a sub. You’ve broken some of the more serious ones with your recent actions. You’ve lied and deceived us, about school of all things. And you know very well how seriously we take your education.”

The sub could only stare at the floor, ashamed.

“Here’s what’s going to happen. Tonight your bum is going to feel the full force of what happens when you deceive your doms. Tomorrow the three of us are going to have a nice long chat with your math professor. Afterwards, we’re going straight to your football coach. You’re going to tell him that you won’t be on the team for the remainder of the season, because you’ve been a very bad boy.”

“Please!” Louis cried out as he sniffled. “I’ll do anything, just don’t make me quit footie. Please don’t!”

“Kneel!” Nick said sharply, causing the sub to instantly collapse to his knees. “Playing sports is a privilege, and subs who lie get their privileges revoked. From now on you’re going to be in tutoring four days a week after school. Then you’re going to come home and do homework. When you’ve finished your homework, you’re going to quietly study. Up until you have perfect marks for every course, if we hear a word of complaint from you, your bum will turn a nice shade of red.”

“Is that clear?” Harry asked asked a few seconds later, when Louis only continued to sob.

“Y-Yes,” Louis managed to say. “Y-Y-Yes Si-irs.”

“One more thing, before we get started. Who signed your test?”

Louis moaned lowly, refusing to look up.

“That’s not an answer,” Nick said. “Was it you, or someone else? Don’t even think of trying to lie to us again.”

“Niall!” Louis bawled. “Was N-Niall!”

Nick nodded. “I thought as much. Well Lou, now you’ve even gotten your friend into trouble. I hope you understand now that there are always consequences that come with actions.”

Louis was still too distraught to say anything, so he continued to weep at the feet of his doms, remorseful and guilty. Now Niall would be in trouble with his own doms, and it was all his fault.

…

Louis slept in the guest bedroom that night, lying on his stomach with a bottom that was on fire. Neither Nick nor Harry went easy on the physical part of his punishment. They didn’t use any objects of course, but thirty spanks on his bare bum from each of his doms was more than a little painful in itself, excluding the additional fifteen smacks on his sitting spots at the very tops of his thighs.

He didn’t get cuddles either. Usually his post-spanking treatment bordered on being spoiled, with cuddles and warm milk and soothing aloe on his rear. Instead he’d been sent straight to bed.

Nick and Harry were very firm this time, making it clear that he wouldn’t be getting any sort of comfort until after he explained to his coach that he was leaving the team.

That hurt a lot more than the spanking did.

…

The next day was no doubt the most humiliating thing that Louis had ever gone through. Neither of his doms said much of anything to him, though Harry did serve him a plate of pancakes. There were no cute whipped cream faces on them though.

At school Louis squirmed through all of his classes, his poor bottom still tender from the night before. When math (his last class of the day) had finished, it was time for his doms to meet with Professor Winston.

“Good afternoon Professor,” Nick reached out to shake Winston’s hand, and Harry followed suit. “We’re here for the meeting scheduled in concern of our sub.”

The professor greeted them professionally. “Yes of course, have a seat.”

It was embarrassing, having to listen to his doms and professor talk about him as if he were incompetent. The only good thing was that Louis didn’t have to speak much, although he was fuming at everything Winston was saying to his doms.

“Louis has been declining for weeks now,” Winston drawled on. “Always looking out the window and doodling in his notebook. I can’t recall him ever raising his hand, not once.”

These words appeared to irk his doms, much to Louis’ satisfaction.

“If it’s been bad for this long, why haven’t you contacted us sooner?” Harry demanded to know.

“W-Well,” The professor’s cheeks reddened, caught in his words.

Needless to say, the meeting didn’t last long after that. Unfortunately now came the even worst part of the day, which would be paying a visit to his football coach.

…

“Um, James?”

Coach Cordon looked up from his clipboard, his face instantly brightening. “Louis, hi! What can I do for you? I know you’re eager, but practice isn’t for another hour.”

“R-Right,” Louis swallowed, praying that he wouldn’t break down in front of his coach.

James then noticed Louis’ doms. He was already well acquainted with them, seeing as Harry and Nick attended all of Louis’ games and even sometimes practices.  “Hello boys. Excited for the big game coming up?”

Louis felt like he’d been punched in the gut. James and the rest of his team were counting on him for this game, which was coming up in just a few weeks. Him not playing would leave them all screwed.

Harry cleared his throat. “I’m sure the game will go well. But James, Louis has something he needs to tell you.”

Harry’s solemn expression clued James in on the fact that some bad news was about to be heard. Louis, meanwhile, was biting his lip so hard that it was in danger of bleeding. He felt humiliated, being marched over here by his doms, like he was incapable of doing it by himself.

But that was a main point of this punishment, humiliation.

“I’m sorry James,” Louis took a deep breath, looking down because he was unable to look his coach in the face. “I can’t be on the team anymore. I was- I was bad. I’m so sorry.”

“Oh,” James sounded so disappointed. “You…You’re sure about this?”

Louis was quiet, until he felt a nudge. “Yes Coach. I’m sure.”

“Thank you for understanding James,” Nick said, resting a hand on Louis’ shoulder. “We should get going now. We wish your team the best of luck for the remainder of the season.”

Louis’ shoulders shook, chest tight as he tried to contain his silent sobs of despair. While some people might view it as something of little value, football meant everything to him, and to lose it was to lose a tremendous part of his life. It also hurt, knowing that his team had been counting on him, and he would be letting them down.

“I know that was hard,” Harry murmured, wrapping his arms around the distraught sub. “You were a very good boy today.”

Any other time Louis would have immediately sought comfort from his doms. Right now, however, he was too crushed to accept any sort of comfort, so he stood rigidly without returning the hug.

Louis maintained his distance the rest of the way home, planning to head straight up to bed and hide under the covers for awhile.

Nick caught him by the shoulder once they were inside their home. “Lou…”

“You said I was good, can’t I just be alone right now? I’ve got homework to do.”

They let him go, and had Louis looked back, he would have noticed their pained expressions.

…

Three weeks.

For three weeks now, Louis had been nothing but the perfect, studious sub. Through all his classes, Louis’ eyes never left his professors as he took diligent notes. Monday through Thursday, he would head straight to the tutoring center after his classes, where he would spend two hours working on math equations with the on hand tutors.

Once his tutoring was done, one of Louis’ doms would come to get him. Then would come the time for any additional homework from his other classes. Dinner would happen somewhere during this time, and afterwards Louis would simply study for any upcoming quizzes or tests before going to bed.

Nick and Harry weren’t mad at him anymore. They hadn’t been, really, since after the night they had found out about the test. That didn’t mean the punishment still wasn’t in effect, but the doms acted like everything else was normal.

Louis knew he had done wrong, he really did. Despite this, the sub couldn’t help but feel peeved about the situation. He would never be outwardly rude to his doms, but he still found other ways to make sure his feelings were known, mainly by acting distant while still retaining the politeness that was required of him.

“Louis,” Harry’s voice drew Louis away from his english essay, which he was putting the final touches on despite it being due almost two weeks from now. “What’ll it be tonight love, pasta or fajitas?”

The sub gave a small smile. “Whatever you’d like, Sir.”

Harry’s hand rubbed at his shoulder. “You don’t have a preference?”

“No Sir,” He answered, looking back at his computer screen, where his essay was on display.

The dom peered at the screen as well. “Is that your subculture essay? That’s not due till the sixteenth.”

Louis continued to type. “Yeah, m’just getting it done early.”

“Well,” Harry seemed to struggle with something. “Why don’t you take a break and help me with dinner, okay? It’ll give your eyes a break.”

Louis did so, both to appease his dom and due to the fact that Harry had been right about his eyes needing a break from the computer. Besides, normally on nights when Louis didn’t have footie, he would hang out in the kitchen with Harry while dinner was being made.

Harry had probably been missing that, just like Louis had been.

…

Later that night, after a dinner of fajitas, both of his doms asked to speak to him in the master bedroom.

Nick touched his cheek. “Harry and I have been talking, mostly about your punishment.”

Louis stared back at them silently as an indicator to go on.

“Well, you’ve pretty much caught yourself up in all of your courses now. You’ve even gone beyond our standards. Therefore, we both agree that this speaks loudly at the fact that you’ve handled your punishment very well.”

Harry touched the sub’s cheek. “To be honest, we also miss seeing your lovely smile. Louis love, you know why we had to punish you, right?”

“I do,” Louis nodded solemnly. “I hid my test from you, and then went behind your backs and lied.”

“Right,” Harry said. “I’m glad you understand. You’re no longer on any restrictions, so long as you maintain steady grades.”

“We also understand that outdoor footie season is almost over,” Nick added. “But winter signups for indoor footie are next week, and you have permission to join if you want.”

There were a lot of different emotions circulating in Louis’ head. While he was still upset at the fact that he’d had to miss the biggest game of the season, he was also ashamed of the way he’d handled his math test. Perhaps the consequences would have been less severe had he been open and honest.

He was also feeling very remorseful about dragging Niall into the situation. His friend had warned him, but Louis hadn’t listened. He was so desperate about staying on the team, but in the end that desperation was what put him in this situation.

This was the hardest Harry and Nick had ever been on him. It was clear that neither of them liked punishing him in such a way. Yes, they had been very angry the day they found out, but that anger had vanished by the next day. These past few weeks they had been nothing but loving, and it was Louis who had resisted that love.

Being a matched sub was still such a new concept for Louis. Sometimes it left him disgruntled, while other times it left him feeling like the happiest person alive. No matter what, one thing was clear. His doms loved him very much.

“That sounds nice,” He smiled tentatively at them, getting two warm smiles in return. “And I really am sorry. I promise I won’t ever go behind your backs like that again.”

“Everyone makes mistakes Lou,” Harry told him. “You’re forgiven- have been forgiven, ever since you talked to your coach. We both know how hard that must have been. Footie means a lot to you.”

“Yes it does,” Louis agreed. “But you guys mean more to me than any sport ever could.”

He spoke the truth.(If anyone thinks of other fics I removed from my ao3, feel free to reach out and I’ll post them on tumblr!) 

[elle-stevens]

The Break Up Blog - Day Twenty Six

It’s official: I hate my nasal passages. 

It’s like there are furry kittens growing inside of them, that’s how sensitive they are today. Not that I’m allergic to cats or any other furry mammals; at least, I still hope that’s the case. I have heard that some adults develop latent allergies later in life that they didn’t have as children. Wouldn’t that just be my luck if that happened? 

While I sneezed my brains out nearly all day, I carved out time to do a few creative and productive things. First, I made scones for breakfast; I haven’t baked scones in nearly two years. This is the first time I made them while living abroad by myself. Granted, I left them a little too long in the oven, so they came out firmer than usual. But for a first attempt in a miniature oven, they weren’t half bad, especially when I spread butter and strawberry jam liberally all over it. My colleague, N, expressed a love for scones the other day at work and I thought of her while baking this morning. 

So when I decided to do my grading for my students’ journals at a cafe instead of at home, I asked N if she wanted me to drop off some scones for her near her home since it was en route to where I wanted to go. I left my apartment 15 minutes later that what I initially told N, but the traffic was kind to me and I got to the meeting point early enough. N had a harder time getting to me after doing her grocery shopping. There’s all kinds of roadworks and construction happening in my city these days to build more subway lines and the neighbourhood close to where N lives is completely discombobulated, including all the bus stops that have shifted over slightly to make way for the construction walls. 

Anyway, N finally met me and I gave her the scones, which she was happy to receive. It seems like she’s really stressed about work since she and C are part of the recruitment process that hires new foreign teachers at my school. There have been some issues with visa paperwork and flight bookings for a new hire that has many of my colleagues completely stressed out. Thank God I don’t help out with visa paperwork at my job; I’d be two blinks away from being carted away in a straitjacket if I were. 

N had to rush off to her Chinese class and I made my way to a cafe she and C frequented the week before. The cafe has cosy decor inside and a terriffic balcony section above where you can sit outside. Sadly, the balcony was closed today; the cafe probably only opens it up in the evenings when they serve dinner. So I sat inside and did my grading, which was still nice and cosy. 

The grading itself was more stressful than I initially planned. Maybe I just over-thought it and did more than I needed to. But it took me close to 4 hours to check and correct 38 journals as well as give each student feedback and a rating based on their writing. I know that H meant well when she planned for us to do weekly journals with our students. But the plan was meant to be executed at the start of the school year and it’s already the second semester. Plus, she made C design all the journals in different formats and colours for each grade instead of just ordering ready-made journals from a publication house. Now H wants us to critique each student’s writing every single week and only give them positive feedback so they stay motivated to keep writing in class. If I have to climb up more people’s asses and kiss them from the inside, including those of my students, I might never see the sun again. 

Nevertheless, I forged on and managed to finish all my grading, even though I was hungry and the cafe suddenly didn’t serve food. But they had a menu which not only had drinks displayed on it, but food as well. So naturally I was confused that there didn’t appear to be any food. I wrapped things up and tried to call my Dad to wish him happy birthday. After all the delays with my money transfers, I was happy that I managed to send my siblings some cash to help pay for my dad’s gifts and the family brunch. But the signal was really crappy on my phone since I was outside and waiting for the bus to take me home. I managed to get back to my neighbourhood after 18:00 and made a stop at the grocery store to buy tomatoes, mushrooms and garlic. N gave me some French bread earlier, so I made some bruschetta for dinner. Not the healthiest meal to have, especially right before going to the gym, but it kept the hunger pangs at bay since I inadvertently skipped lunch. 

My parents and siblings ended up going on a drive around the beach, which gave me enough time to have a good session at the gym almost unimpeded, shower and then head home. I even had time to go to work beforehand to pick up the new headband I ordered for the gym that I used for my workout. Unlike last week’s ultra-crap fat-loss regimen, I practically aced it the second time around tonight, which kept me in good spirits. 

I got home after 21:00 and called my Dad again. With most phone conversations, I don’t always know what to say to him. I don’t know why, I just run out of safe topics quicker with my dad than with my mom. My mom and I aren’t as close, but we find ways to talk about very superficial things like who’s a new and upcoming contestant on ‘Idols’ or what new wave of crime hit my old neighbourhood this time around. I’m closer with my Dad, but it’s hard to grab time with him to have a good heart to heart. Still, I was in an excellent mood and the conversation flowed well, especially when we talked about dishes we’d been cooking in the kitchen lately. It makes me realise how much I miss my Dad these days. 

It was great catching up with my mom and my siblings too; I feel bad that P and G have been treated to my depressing and morbid side too much lately. So it felt good to ask how they’re doing and make lots of silly jokes to keep the mood light.  Even though I wished I could’ve been home with my family celebrating my dad’s birthday today, I’m happy they’re still able to have fun without me too. Sometimes I feel guilty about being so far away from home, but I know my family loves and supports me no matter. I’m really lucky and it’s time that I start acknowledging and embracing it more often. 

Throughout my busy day, I still thought of X on occasion. When I walked to the grocery store earlier, this called ‘Loving Strangers’ by Russian Red started playing in my iTunes library. That brought up a flood of memories all related to X. I actually liked that song long before X and I even became friends, but I put her onto it and it eventually became one of our songs that epitomised our relationship. The song is from a soundtrack for this lesbian romance movie called ‘Room In Rome’. It’s about these two women who meet at a bar in - you guessed it - Rome, and end up spending the night together in a beautiful Roman hotel room. It wasn’t the best acting in the world, but the chemistry between the two actresses was on sizzling and the movie had a scintillating soundtrack too. 

Anyway, X and I both loved the song and the movie and watched it together a few times over 3 years. When I visited her the first time in the Philippines, we stayed a lovely 5-star hotel for our last night together. Unintentionally, we acted out a few romantic scenes from the movie. Like dressing up in fluffy bathrobes after taking a swim in the hotel and staring out the window together at the city skyline. Of course, we improvised with other things, like slow-dancing in our bathrobes to Coldplay’s ‘Sparks’ and ‘Loving Strangers’ in the middle of our hotel room. 

That night was so bittersweet for me because my flight back home was at 4am (I still don’t know why I booked that absurd flight time), so X and I only had a few hours together in that hotel room before I left her. I felt like Cinderella on the night of the ball with the Prince. For those first few hours, everything felt magical and wonderful. But as soon as the clock struck twelve, reality kicked in again and it was time to go back home in my pumpkin carriage. 

Being with X always felt like a beautiful dream that I was eventually going to wake up from. Now I’m finally awake and it’s still disorienting knowing that we won’t have more beautiful memories together or new shared experiences to make life a little sweeter than it was before. But I’m trying my best to move on and only focus on the crappier aspects of X’s personality to make me miss her less. What I need is to just land myself a hottie Sugar Daddy or Sugar Momma with low self-esteem on the next go-around with a relationship and hope to God they never get clued in on the fact that they could do better than me. Don’t get me wrong, I know I’m a catch in a lot of respects, but I am also a hot mess. I’m a slow learner, but I’m getting better and wiser with time. 

Shit, it’s past midnight and I’m starving. I’m trying hard not to snack late at night, but I haven’t been eating well lately because of stress and my depression kicking my proverbial butt. Does this even still count as a diary entry for 7th September? 

Since I’m making up the rules for my own happiness now, I say it still counts. And from here on out, I’m gonna do whatever the hell I please. 

[ikesenlemonadestandstories]

Blind Date

Hi hi! How is everyone doing! I hope you’re enjoying the Trick or Treat event going on :) Here is the first one-shot for the Follower Give-Away. This particular one is for our second place winner @darkmindsthinktwistedthoughts  I’ve placed my notes on their prompt idea below! Hope you all enjoy this!

Short idea:Blind date / Mitsuhide

Super incessant friend. Agrees begrudgingly. Dude was fun and there for exactly the same reason. Curse you meddling friends?!

Warnings: There are mentions of Alcohol throughout this story. 

Check out all of my other Ikesen writings here! 

Happy reading Fam!

T~

Blind Date - Mitsuhide

[YN]

“Come on, I know the perfect guy!” Your friend shook your shoulders hoping the added motion would persuade you.

“The last time you said that I had to talk the guy out of getting a tattoo of my face.” you grimaced remembering the last disaster of a blind date you were on.

“Okay, so you had one bad blind date,” quirking an eyebrow up at you “I promise it’ll be different this time!”

“How about no.” you turned around on the stool to face the back wall in the kitchen resting your elbows on the cool marble island.

“How about yes? Please.” your friend took you by the shoulders and began to shake.

“Why are you so hell-bent on getting me to go on this date?” you shifted to face her.

“Well,” rubbing the back of her neck, eyes roving along the lines on the floor. “I sort’ve already told him you’d go…”

“You. Did. What?” Oh hells, now you really had to. I mean you didn’t have to but, if you didn’t, you were going to look like a total jackass. You exhaled, exasperated. “Fine. Fine, you win, but you owe me.”

“Who knows, maybe you’ll have a blast and then what? Does that mean you owe me?” she wriggled on her stool next to you.

“I owe you nothing but a good swift kick to the ass, and if it goes well, you should be happy I don’t give you your reward.”

---

He let you choose the restaurant stating that it didn’t really matter one way or the other to him. You thought that was nice, at least he was accommodating, better than blind date number two who insisted you went to the new Italian restaurant even after you told him you were allergic to garlic. Jerk.

So there you sat, in the reasonably lit Asian Eatery, it was a favorite of yours, so you were hoping this experience didn’t ruin it for you. The wait staff all knew you by name, and the cooks had a good handle on your allergies, so you trusted them. They made authentic Asian dishes that each had their own personal twist, and it didn’t hurt that they imported all of your favorite Japanese beer.  The chalkboard walls were covered with manga characters and the daily specials written in comic book letters, while re-runs of Sailor Moon played on every TV in the place.

“Am I to presume you’re my date for the evening?” The man in front of you was tall and thin, with snow-white hair and bright yellow eyes that seemed to allude to something a little more sinister.

“That depends on you.” you cocked a smile, trying to size the man up. If he couldn’t put up with your sass you didn’t want to pass go, you’d be fine without your two hundred dollars.

“Ah and what made you change your tune? I heard you were so very excited to meet me.” his eyes shined with mischief as he sat down at your table. “The name is Mitsuhide, Mitsuhide Akechi.” he bowed slightly as he scooted the chair in.

“Odd, I don’t remember being excited to meet anyone. Last I heard you were the one-” you stopped “It appears we’ve been tricked.” you leaned back in your chair crossing your legs as you sipped on the beer already brought to the table.

“It would seem so.” he replied as a waiter came over dropping a glass of water on the table before asking his drink order. “Sake please.”

“Oh? Hard liquor on the first date? Mighty bold of you.” you giggled as he sipped on his water.

“I highly doubt that we’ll be fornicating later, and you don’t seem the type to take advantage of me. Besides, it’s only hard liquor if it puts you out, and I can assure you, my dear, I’ll be just fine.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s not how that works, but however you want to look at it is fine by me. Also fornicating? Really?”

The waiter came back with Mitsuhide's drink and a basket full of warm sesame waffle fries. You hadn’t ordered them, but the staff knew you well enough, and for that you were thankful. He peered at you over his glass before asking his question.

“I apologize. I didn’t realize you had been kept here waiting that long miss?” he paused and you realized you’d never actually told him your name.

“(LN), (LN)(YN).” You bowed like he had earlier. “And no, I just come here often, I’m friends with the chef.”

“Well then miss Friends with the Chef. What would you recommend?” he ran his hand over the menu as he looked on uninterested.

“Well, that depends on what you like.”

“Anything, nothing. I can’t really taste food so whatever you’d enjoy is fine by me.” No wonder he had wanted you to pick the restaurant, but wait. If he couldn’t taste food why had he even wanted to go to a restaurant? You totally could have gone somewhere that didn’t revolve completely around food. Hell, even going out for drinks would have been a better option.

“Alright, then a texture? Do you have a texture you don’t like?” hoping that would help.

“Not particularly, I’ll just have whatever you’re having. May I?” He reached for the bowl of fries.

“Of course.”

You ordered your food and picked up getting to know each other. He was fun to talk to, and though you would never admit it to your friend, this wasn’t a bad date. He seemed happy enough that you imagined he at least wasn’t bored with your conversation, which was good. You in-depth conversation about your jobs was interrupted by the giant Chicken Katsu Bowls being placed in front of the both of you.

“Enjoy.” you waiter smiled before heading to one of his other tables.

It had to be one of your favorite meals, the chicken was breaded in the best panko crumb mix you had ever tasted and was fried to crispy perfection, it sat cut and ready atop a mountain of spicy sauteed cabbage and sweet rice. The entire dish was pulled together with a less than healthy helping of tonkatsu sauce, the meal was to die for.

“It’s not bad.” Mitsuhide appraised the dish

“I didn’t think you could taste it?” you said as you scooped another bit of chicken into your mouth.

“I can’t, but for once all of the textures aren’t melting together. I’ll have to let you pick the dish next time as well.” his smile was disarming, and you felt your brain sputter to a halt for three full seconds before you remembered to keep chewing and breathe.

“Oh, so then there’s going to be a next time?” you asked sipping on your beer, hoping to hide your rapidly spreading blush and keep yourself from choking on your meal.

“As much as I hate to acknowledge Hideyoshi’s meddling I would quite like to do this again.” polishing off his sake from earlier as he finished his statement.

“I had fun. So I’d be down, but how about we accidentally on purpose forget to tell our friends?” you smiled what you knew to be an evil grin. “Make them squirm just a bit.”

“I like the way you think.” His golden eyes flashed, and you instinctively knew his smiled matched your own.

“Thanks, I like the way I think too.” you laughed “So when are you free?”

[mind-reader1]

Love at First Gazpacho

ES AU: The Gang made it off the island, and their idol visions are coming true, but we get to see the bigger picture now

Word Count: 4985

Warnings: Weed use (if that seriously offends you though, bye lol)  

Notes: This is another little Raj fic I wrote a while back, in honor of the one who really brings the group together IMO. Our underrated star chef! Our entire gang won’t make an appearance this time, just Raj and Quinn! If you guys really like this, I could try to write more idol scenes! Also!!!! This won’t be the only time we get to see this lovely character of my creation, stay tuned for @brightpinkpeppercorn ‘s upcoming AMAZING Jake Halloween fic. Seriously, when she posts it go read it. You’d be dumb not to. 

If you’re into cooking you can find the gazpacho recipe here

It had been a year since Raj made it off the island of La Huerta, lots had changed in a year. Everyone was living their best life, especially Raj, he had his own cooking show just like he had seen in his vision. He was in Spain, his twelfth country this year. He always flew in a week before his crew to get the lay of the land, figure out where he wanted to film, and what he wanted to cook. It was a system, and no one messed with Raj's system. He had some ideas about what he wanted to cook, he was on the small island off the coast of Spain known as Mallorca. Since it was an island, they were known for their seafood, more specifically their paella. His mouth watered just thinking about it, all the various meats that went into it: shrimp, chicken, chorizo, mussels, prosciutto, all over the rice with rich flavors from the various herbs and spices he added. Raj was really going to outdo himself with this one. He couldn't go to any old supermarket though, he needed to find something more authentic to the island's small nature, a little farmers market, or something like that. As he strolled along a small lagoon off the marina he stumbled upon it, and her.

Romance was never the first thing on Raj's mind, it was usually food or weed, or both. When you've got the munchies, it's difficult to think about anything but food. He strolled through the market, checking the freshness and quality of the ingredients. This was the place, Raj knew he wanted to get all his ingredients from here, he began walking down the small aisle backward figuring out how the cameras would get through when he bumped into someone.

“Oh man, I'm so sorry.” Raj turned to help the woman pick up the things he had made her drop. She had tan skin and raven black hair that cascaded down her back, shielding her face from him.

“Gracias.” She smiled warmly at him and stood up, grabbing one more thing before walking away. Raj was drawn to her though, he didn't want her to go so soon.

“What are you going to be making?” The woman looked over at Raj and smiled again.

“You like cooking?”

“I enjoy cooking and eating.” Raj grinned and the woman laughed, her hazel eyes sparkling.

“Gazpacho,” she said, answering his earlier question.

“Oh, today is a perfect day for that. Very calor.” He wiped his forehead and made an attempt at speaking Spanish. The woman looked over Raj curiously, he didn't look American, but she could tell by his accent that he was, yet he didn't strike her as a tourist. This market was off the beaten path, usually only filled with locals.

“I think I might make some myself. It was nice to meet you.” Raj bounded off and the woman watched as Raj looked for ingredients. Frankly, gazpacho was one thing Raj didn't know how to make, he knew it was tomato soup and since he made that at home often he thought it couldn't be too much different. He grabbed some tomatoes, an onion, and some garlic, everything else he needed he could find at his Airbnb. He heard a sigh and felt the things snatched out of his hand, the girl from earlier was shaking her head at him and mumbling to herself.

“Are you trying to make gazpacho or liquid tomato?” Raj laughed.

“Honestly, I only know how to make tomato soup, not gazpacho.” She clicked her tongue and looked down at her basket.

“Come with me. I will make you gazpacho, show you how it's done.” She picked up the last of the ingredients she needed and dragged Raj behind her.

“I'm Raj by the way.” He bounded up next to her. She looked over at Raj and flipped her hair.

“Sofía.” Her looks had initially reminded him of Estela, but she was much friendlier, and that made her much prettier he thought.

“Have you lived here your whole life?” She nodded.

“Sí. My parents died when I was young and so my Abuela raised me.”

“I'm sorry to hear that. I was close to my grandma too.” she shrugged.

“I don't really remember them. We're here.” She stopped outside of a quaint little cottage, not at all like the grandiose mansions in the immediate vicinity of the marina.

“Abuela! Tenemos un invitado para cenar.” Sofía called into the house.

“Something to drink?” She asked Raj as he took in the magnificent kitchen. It had a sink right above the window, a small stove and oven tucked into the corner, with a large table in the center. Looking at the table, Raj could tell it had been around for a while. Marks from where a knife had slipped off the cutting board, stains from different foods that hadn't been cleaned up fast enough. It might not have been state of the art, but it had a story and that's what Raj loved.

“No thanks.” Raj watched as she unloaded her groceries. Tomatoes, cucumbers, red onion, garlic, and green bell peppers. Rifling through her cabinets, she pulled out cream, olive oil, Sherry vinegar, ground cumin, salt, and black pepper. Raj's mouth was already watering.

“So, what's the first step?”

Sofía smiled and deftly pulled out a knife, chopping all her ingredients before putting them into the blender.

“Once you chop all the ingredients, you purée them, and I like to add cream.”

“Does it give it a thicker consistency?” She nodded, pleased that Raj was so eager to learn. Once she was satisfied with the consistency she put it in a bowl and then in the fridge.

“That's it?” Sofía chuckled and shook her head.

“Now it sits for cuatro hora.”

“Four hours?” She nodded and Raj grinned as he took a seat across from her.

“Did your grandma teach you how to cook.”

“Sí. Her mother taught her growing up and she passed it on to me. Family recipes that go back years.”

“Wow, so this recipe is specific to your family?” She nodded.

“You surprise me,” she looked over Raj, “you say you like to cook but you don't know how to make gazpacho.” Raj chuckled.

“I do love to cook, I wasn't lying. My grandma, before she died, she wrote down all her recipes for me. She taught me how to cook as well, just not many Spanish dishes.” Sofía considered his words.

“What can you cook?” Raj began rattling off his favorite dishes and Sofía listened intently. They talked for hours as the gazpacho chilled, Raj becoming more captivated by her and less by the food, the more time went by.

“It's time to finish!” She ran off to the fridge and pulled out the chilled soup. All that was left was to add the spices. Raj offered to help, he sprinkled some pepper and fresh herbs like basil and rosemary to garnish it. She added the cumin and broke up some day-old bread to make croutons.

“Why the cumin?” Sofía gave a cheeky smile.

“It's an old family secret. It adds a special kind of kick to the soup that gives it a rich flavor.” She tasted a small bit and closed her eyes, relishing the different flavors.

“Abuela! La cena está lista.” She called back into the house.

“My grandma will be joining us for dinner.” Raj grinned, he didn't mind at all.

“I would love to meet the woman who taught you how to cook.” Sofía poured three bowls of the soup, just as her grandma came into the kitchen. They exchanged a few words in Spanish, Raj couldn't keep up, but he imagined by the way the old woman was looking at him, she was wondering who he was.

“She wants to know why I brought an American here. I told her you were hungry and didn't know how to cook even something so… simple. She can never turn away someone who's hungry.” Raj chuckled.

“What is so funny?”

“She sounds just like my grandma.” Sofía smiled warmly.

“Your Abuela sounds like she was a nice woman.”

“She was.” Raj found himself staring into Sofía's soft eyes rather than the delicious soup in front of him, this was definitely a first.

“¡Comer! ¡Comer!” Raj broke away first and shyly smiled.

“She says to eat. It will be rude not to.”

“You don't have to tell me twice!” Raj grabbed his spoon and closed his eyes in ecstasy when the flavors hit his tongue. It was indescribable, the way everything mixed together, the chill a refreshing sensation compared to the heat of the day. Raj thought it couldn't get any better until he found one of the croutons she had made from old bread. The crunch was a stark texture to the creamy soup, Raj was in food heaven.

“You have been awfully quiet?” Raj set his spoon down and grinned, his bowl was almost empty.

“Was it bad?” Raj shook his head.

“No! It was delicious! I didn't want to stop eating.” Sofía laughed, noticing Raj's bowl now.

“Think of it as the highest compliment you could receive.” Sofía relayed the message to her grandmother who smiled, very pleased with herself. As Sofía picked up the dishes Raj knew their time was coming to an end but he wasn't quite ready for it.

“Maybe I can cook dinner for you and your Abuela tomorrow night? I can prove to you that I'm not completely helpless.” Sofía was silent, pondering Raj, his offer, she was curious about him.

“That would be very nice Raj.” he left that night pondering what he would cook to impress Sofia. First thing in the morning Raj jumped out of bed and ran down to the market, he was going to prepare something to blow them away. On his way home, he grabbed a bottle of sangria, Sofía didn't strike Raj as a beer kind of girl. Since it was only three of them eating and not 12, feuding college kids, he settled on pork chops. Raj put them in the slow cooker, so they would simmer all day and remain juicy and tender. As it got closer to the time Sofía and her grandmother would be arriving Raj began to panic. He had decided to do vegetable skewers and roasted potatoes with the pork chops. What if they didn't like them though? If they weren't seasoned well? He had forgotten the dessert! All he had to drink was sangria and cheap beer, what if they didn't like those! He could hear the ice and fruit in the sangria hitting the glass pitcher. He was never this nervous about his cooking and had never been this nervous about a girl, this was all new territory for him. Before his thoughts could spiral any farther the doorbell rang, they were here. Raj checked his appearance in the mirror before opening the door. Sofía and her grandmother were waiting on the doorstep, both of them smiled as Raj opened the door.

“Come in!” He smiled, trying to keep his cool. Her grandmother mumbled something in Spanish and Sofía rolled her eyes.

No. Raj considered asking what her grandmother had said but decided he probably didn't want to know.

“Everything is ready. We're having pork chops, roasted potatoes, and vegetable kebabs. I got sangria to drink, I didn't know what you guys liked. If you'd prefer something different I can go get something.” Raj stumbled over his words as he pulled plates out of the cabinet. Sofía smiled amused as he set the table and pulled out a chair for her grandmother. His grandma had always taught him manners were just as important as the food.

“It is perfect Raj.” she was standing behind him as he put the plates together.

“Want to try a bite?” Raj held up a small piece of pork chop that had fallen back into the pot. Sofía leaned forward to try it and closed her eyes before they shot open in surprise.

“¡Dios mío!” She held her hand up to her mouth and looked at Raj.

“What? What does that mean?” He was worried that she hadn't liked it, pork chops had been a bad idea.

“Raj! That was amazing!” She threw her arms around him and watched with bated breath as he finished preparing the plates. She helped him carry a plate and the pitcher of sangria. Raj set the plates down and pulled her chair out for her before pouring everyone a glass of sangria.

“Please! Dig in!” Everyone ate in silence; the food was too good to speak. The pork chops falling apart on the plate, practically melting in your mouth, the potatoes were cooked perfectly, not dry or too crispy. The vegetables were sautéed, really bringing out the flavor of the peppers and onions. The bright colors of the peppers and sangria, complementing the otherwise dull colors of the potatoes and meat. The grandmother finished her meal first and looked up at Sofía, waving her finger at her while speaking in Spanish. The young girl rolled her eyes and continued to eat.

“Muy bueno, Raj. Gracias.” Her grandmother pushed her plate aside and kissed Raj on the cheek. He knew enough Spanish to know that he had just gotten a compliment, his worries about the dinner far from his memory. Raj cleaned up the plates and was hoping that despite having dessert he would be able to talk to Sofía some more, but her grandmother had other ideas. She said something in Spanish to Sofía who sighed.

“Thank you for a lovely dinner Raj. My grandma is tired, but she enjoyed dinner and likes you.” Raj felt a blush creeping to his cheeks.

“I'm glad you enjoyed Raj's feast. Maybe we can get together again...just the two of us?” Raj was holding his breath, he just went for it. He had never asked a girl out on a date before, he had never met a girl who interested him as much as Sofía though. She smiled and gave Raj a gentle kiss on the cheek.

“Sí. I would like that.” Raj was excited, he had a date, with a girl. Not just any girl, a beautiful girl who could cook! It didn't get much better than that Raj thought to himself. It was a few days later when he had his next date with Sofía, they had agreed to go to her favorite restaurant this time rather than one of them cooking, she wanted to show him some of her favorite parts of Spain. When Raj met her at her place before he finally noticed her outer beauty. She wore a gold sparkly tank top that complemented her skin tone and made her eyes sparkle, even more, to complete her outfit she wore a dark pair of daisy dukes and some brown sandals. Her long black hair was pinned back with braids on the side but otherwise falling down her back in gentle waves. For the first time, Raj was drooling over something that wasn't food. He held out his arm to her and she took it, as they strolled peacefully to the restaurant. It was a small place, right on the water, tucked between businesses. The kind of place you had to know it was there or else you'd never be able to find it. They got a table overlooking the bay, the moonlight reflecting off the water, highlighted the curve of her face beautifully. She ordered them a bottle of sangria and turned to Raj with a curious look on her face.

“What brings you to Spain Raj?” He was surprised when he realized he still hadn't actually told her.

“I have a cooking show. We'll be filming an episode here next week. I always come to scope out the place before my crew arrives. I get a chance to figure out where I want to film, what I want to cook.” Sofia's eyes glistened at the mention of a cooking show.

“What is it like? Having a show?”

“I get to travel all over, try different foods, meet incredible people,” he smiled and reached across the table to squeeze her hand, “and I get to teach others how to make delicious meals.”

“That is very cool Raj!” The waiter returned with their sangria and was expecting their order, he had been so busy talking that he hadn't even looked over the menu.

“What do you recommend Sofia?”

“Empanadas para nosotros dos.” Empanads! Raj loved empanadas, he loved any food to be fair though.

“It's the best thing on their menu,” Sofía remarked.

“I love empanadas, I'm excited to try them at your local spot though.” Sofía smiled at how excited Raj was over something so small. He seemed to her like the kind of guy who just kind of sailed through life enjoying everything and making the most of it. They made small talk over drinks while waiting for their dinner. When it finally arrived Raj dug in, excited to explore what the food had to offer.

“You know, my Abuela likes you.” Raj grinned.

“I am a hit with the older ladies.” Sofía giggled at his bad joke.

“You are funny Raj.”

“And I think you're beautiful Sofía.” She blushed and finished off her glass of sangria, excusing herself to the restroom. While she was gone Raj finished his own glass and paid for the meal. When she came back he looked at her and smiled, he didn't want the night to end and he had a great idea, maybe.

“Want to take a walk?” Raj nodded and gently pulled Sofía away when she tried to flag down the waiter.

“We must pay.”

“I took care of it Sofía.” She looked at Raj surprised, she was the one who had suggested a restaurant.

“Gracias Raj.” He smiled as they strolled down the sidewalk in the moonlight, their fingers lightly brushing against each other. She suddenly grabbed him by the hand and towards the beach. Raj followed after her and plopped down next to her in the sand, the waves lapping at their feet.

“¿Fumas?” Raj didn't have to know what that meant to recognize what she was holding up. A joint was a joint, it was that moment that he knew Sofía was special.

“Definitely.” She lit the joint and took a hit before passing it to Raj who laid down to look up at the stars. She fell back beside him and rested her head on his shoulder.

“I love looking at the stars, it reminds me of a group of my friends, people who are very special to me.”

“Why are they so special?” Raj sighed, struggling with how to explain La Huerta without sounding crazy.

“We went on a vacation together, starting off as strangers, but by the end of it, we were best friends. We went to an island, you could see stars for miles, each one of us was a different constellation. When I look at the stars, I'm reminded of them.” Sofía was silent for a long moment as she really thought about Raj's words.

“I think it's beautiful you love your friends that much.”

“They're beautiful people. I love them very much.”

“They're lucky to have a friend like you Raj.” She sat up and looked at Raj before leaning in slowly. She planted a soft kiss on his lips and pulled away smiling, nervously gauging his reaction. Raj had kissed girls before, but never a girl he liked, he was terrified, but he leaned in for another. The kiss was soft and sweet, Sofia's lips tasted of sweet sangria, she smelled like warm vanilla. They laid there kissing, neither of them sure of how long before she pulled away.

“I should be getting home. My Abuela will start to worry.” Raj got up and helped Sofía to her feet. They walked back to her house, fingers laced together. Raj stopped at her doorstep and she leaned in for one more kiss, he was done for. He really liked this girl.

“Gracias for a wonderful night Raj.”

“The pleasure was all mine. I'd like to see you again, maybe you can come to my cooking show.” Her smile grew and she grabbed Raj's face and planted a soft kiss on his lips again.

“I would like that. Buenas noches.”

“Goodnight Sofía.” Raj walked back to his place on cloud nine.

It was a few days later when his crew arrived in town with the one and only Quinn.

“Raj!” She skipped off the plane and threw her arms around him. Raj tightly hugged her in return, she looked as amazing as ever.

“I'm so glad you could make it Quinn!” She had called Raj a few weeks ago to see how his show was going, and he had invited her to come on as a guest star.

“Me too. I've missed you Raj! How's Spain?” They began talking like that had only seen each other yesterday. He told her about the food and of course the lovely Sofía.

“Oh, she sounds great Raj! Can I meet her?” Raj grinned.

“I invited her to the show today. She's coming with her Abuela who taught her how to cook.”

“That's so sweet Raj. I'm so excited! What are we making by the way? Is it cupcakes, you know how I love cupcakes.”

“We're making Cantabrian cheesecake.”

“Oooh, I love cheesecake!” Raj chuckled.

“It's a little different than New York-style cheesecake but I promise you'll still love it. C’mon, let's go get ready!” They both got pampered by the hair and makeup team. Raj left first to go film his short little segment of picking up ingredients for paella at the market where he met Sofía. After that, he went to the main kitchen set where Quinn, Sofía and her Abuela were waiting. Raj barely had time to say hi before he was pushed in front of the cameras. He went through his normal spiel, explaining what paella was, the ingredients he picked out for it, how to prepare them, and then finally how to cook the meal. Normally he found it easy to stay focused on the food, but this time his thoughts and eyes kept wandering to Sofía who was watching eagerly from behind the camera.

Raj wanted to take a break between segments to talk to Sofía, make sure he had done the recipe justice, but production was rushing him. Apparently, they had one less filming day, he wasn't completely sure on the logistics, he just knew that he was being rushed.

“Today for dessert were going to be making quesada pasiega with my amazing friend, Quinn Kelly!” Quinn came on smiling at the cameras and threw her arms around Raj before giving him a kiss on the cheek. Raj looked out at Sofía and saw she didn't seem to be as happy as she was. He couldn't help but wonder if she was jealous.

“Thanks for having me Raj, what exactly is quesada pasiega?”

“I'm glad you asked Quinn, it's also known as Cantabrian cheesecake.”

“Ooh, cheesecake!” Quinn clapped and put on an apron.

“I love cheesecake!” Raj chuckled.

“It's not like New York still cheesecake though, it's got a very different flavor to it.” They went back and forth with quick jokes and fun while they made dessert, Sofía growing more jealous and suspicious until finally, it was over.

“That's all folks. A special thanks to Quinn for joining us. We'll see you next week when we hit Germany!” Raj heard someone yell cut and ran over to Sofía who regarded him cooly.

“What did you think of the show? How did I do?”

“I think you should ask your girlfriend. I see how it is, I was a fling before she came!” She raised her voice, her Spanish accent getting heavier the angrier she got.

“No, Sofía. Quinn is not my girlfriend. She's one of those special friends I was telling you about, the constellations.” He gently squeezed her hand and Raj looked into her eyes.

“Come meet her.” Raj motioned for Quinn and she came over, instantly pulling Sofía into a hug who was caught off guard.

“You must be Sofía! Raj told me all about you, he really likes you.” It became clear to Sofía quite quickly that Quinn was just one of those people with a bubbly personality.

“It is nice to meet you.” Sofía returned her hug and Raj relaxed a bit.

“So, what did you think? Was my recipe good?” Sofía smiled.

“It looked good but how does it actually taste?”

“Let's find out. I didn't invite you all here just to watch me eat!” Raj served a plate for everyone but gave Sofía a tester bite from the pan. She pondered for a moment before turning to Raj.

“This is muy bueno Raj.” He grinned.

“What does your Abuela think?” They both turned to look at the old woman who gave a thumbs up.

“If Abuela approves then I'm happy!” They all laughed and began eating before Raj pulled out the cheesecake for dessert. Quinn and Sofía chatted happily over the food as if Raj wasn't even there.

“Well, I'm really tired after the long flight so I'm going to go. See you later Raj, it was so nice to meet you Sofía.” Quinn hugged both of them and skipped off. Abuela had disappeared somewhere leaving just Sofía and Raj.

“What now Raj. What happens next?” Raj sighed. He knew this moment was coming but it didn't make it any easier.

“My show is moving onto Germany in a few days.” An uncomfortable silence hung between them.

“I see.” Was all she had to say.

“Maybe I can see you again before I go?” Sofía wouldn't meet his gaze.

“Maybe.” She walked away to find her Abuela and they left, leaving Raj standing there, unsure if he had made the right decision. Raj texted Sofía and asked her to meet him at the restaurant she took him too, he waited for hours and hours. Finally, he gave up and left, a full bowl of gazpacho sitting across from him. His plane left the next day, normally Raj was excited to see move on to the next country, to see what it had to offer, but this time Raj just wasn't feeling it. He slumped down in his seat and arrived in Germany a few hours later. He knew he should be out, exploring, figuring out where he wanted to film but instead he found the nearest bar and helped himself to a sample of the various beers. By the time it's crew arrived he really hadn't done much but drink beer but they made it work. Raj was filming but he was lacking his normal charm, he couldn't stop thinking about how he left things with Sofía. He had never felt about someone the way he felt about her, everything about her was incredible, especially her cooking.

“Cut!” Raj realized he had been lost in space and burned the meal he was cooking.

“I'm going to take a break.” Raj went outside to smoke, it always helped to calm him down.

“Are you going to share?”

“I'm hearing things now. It's La Huerta all over again.”

“Again?” Raj looked up and blinked a couple times, Sofía was standing in front of him.

“Sofía are you really here right now?” Raj stood up and thought about hugging her but decided not to.

“Sí. I was stupid to not go to the restaurant. My Abuela was angry, she told me to come here.”

“I always liked your grandma.” Sofía laughed and they both stood there awkwardly.

“Why did you come though? You live in Spain, I don't.” Sofía grinned sheepishly and looked at her feet.

“My Abuela had an idea. I think it is good.”

“Let's hear it.” Raj lit his blunt and took a drag before passing it to Sofía, both of them nervous.

“She said she will teach you to cook if you help her write a cookbook and put her name on it. You must stay in Spain though.” Raj almost said yes immediately, it would mean being closer to Sofía but there was more to it than that. Raj sighed.

“I want nothing more than that, but my producers might not…” Sofía sighed and nodded.

“I understand. Think about it Raj.” She started to walk away but Raj jumped up and grabbed her hand.

“Screw production! I want to learn your family traditions, I want to spend time with you.” Sofía smiled and threw her arms around Raj to kiss him, it caught him off guard but he couldn't be happier.

THE END

EPILOGUE

Raj moseyed on down to Sofia's in the morning like he did every day. His Spanish had gotten quite good since Abuela began had been teaching him her recipes and helping her write a cookbook. He knew it was going to be a big hit, at least that's what his production company told him and that's why he was allowed to stay. They had a deal, he could live in Spain and work on this cookbook but once a month he had to leave for 2 weeks to film an episode for the show. Raj was happy with that, it meant that for the rest of the month he got to see Sofía who he had come to love. She roped him in with her cooking, but he stayed for everything else. He had finally found his person, he never quite understood what his friends were talking about when they found their people on La Huerta, but he was happy for them nonetheless. As Sofía glanced up at him with a quizzical smile, flour on her face, he finally understood.

Tagging my finer things club 💖: @zaffrenotes @likethetailofacomet @ooo-barff-ooo @endlessly-searching-for-you @sleepwalkingelite @agent-bossypants

and people who might like this (idk sorry!): @leelee10898 @princesstopgun @choicesyouplayandmore 

[peterkayscarshare]

Life in the Slow Lane Chapter 3 by OvertheRainbow

She hated arguments. Mainly because she was completely rubbish at them. She couldn’t do confrontation and inevitably ended up in tears within minutes. This time was no exception. It didn’t help that her journey back to Mandy’s had been to the soundtrack of Forever FM’s “Sunday Love Connection With DJ Danny Love”. The whole thing was cheesier than an extra large Margarita Pizza, with stuffed crust, cheese bites, cheesy garlic bread and maybe a fondue thrown in for good measure. She’d held it together through Van Halen’s “Why Can’t This Be Love?” but by the time the late great Whitney Houston had finished belting out the first chorus of “All The Man That I Need”, played with “All my love always” from Leanne in Oldham to Richie in Southport, she was a blubbing mess. That it triggered her memory of John, on their first official “date”, telling her about his dedication to her, that she’d missed by moments, really didn’t help her situation. Try as she might, she found it impossible to be angry with him. Frustrated yes but angry, no. Even if he could never bring himself to fully open up and give her any more than they currently had, even if he could never actually say the word “love”, preferring to make hints and coded references, even if this “thing” was never going to work out, even if he was destined to break her heart beyond any and all repair, it was his to break. It always would be and that was that. 

 As she finally parked up in front of the house that never really felt like home, Kayleigh took a moment to compose herself. Steve was in his usual location, doing exactly what he always did. Rain, hail or shine. Mandy was on the front step next to a large ladder, looking exasperated, gesticulating wildly and intermittently pointing up at the Christmas lights, which had been hanging precariously from the roof for the better part of a year. As Mandy’s tone varied from a “not in front of the neighbours” whisper, to a socially acceptable outdoor voice, to a full on bollocking, Kayleigh caught the general gist of the conversation, even from inside the car. It was best summed up by Mandy’s final, very audible declaration, “You’re a useless dickhead!” Mandy never had any qualms about venting a sense of anger in her relationship. Throughout the entire tirade, Steve had remained his usual sanguine self. Saying nothing and wiping a spanner on his oil stained shirt. She’d never fully understood the dynamic between her sister and Steve. Mandy had the Kitson feisty gene. Steve was utterly passive to the point of comatose. She wasn’t entirely sure how her sister hadn’t strangled him, or died of boredom by now and yet, somehow it just worked for them. She knew how this latest incident would play out. Steve would leave Mandy to “simmer down”, then eventually fix the lights, at his own pace and in his own time. He’d give Mandy a cuddle, whisper something doubtless filthy in her ear, she’d giggle and smack him on the backside and before long, they’d be disappearing up the stairs. Kayleigh would settle on the sofa with a brew, open her iPad, load up Netflix and put her headphones on. All while contemplating yet another night alone in that tiny box room with a cross trainer, 36 pairs of shoes, a set of Babyliss Crimpers and a plastic heart shaped lamp for company. At least now she could add in another pair of shoes, yippee. Steve tapped on the passenger side window, “You gettin’ out sometime today or what?” “You fixin’ those lights sometime this year, you lazy sod?” came her terse reply as she opened the drivers side door. “Don’t you start. I’ve already had it off your sister”. “I know. I heard. I‘m guessin’ they could probably hear it in Dundee!” “Yeah well, Mandy’s got no volume control.” “She’s got more bloody patience than I’d have, that’s for sure. You said you were takin’ them down the day after New Years! They’ve been hanging up there like an afterthought ever since. They almost came down entirely after that bad weather last month.” By now Kayleigh had retrieved her bags from the car and was heading up the driveway. Steve was still surveying their “festive light display”. “I don’t know. Maybe we should leave ‘em as they are. They look like...what do they call it?… shabby chic”. “They look like shabby shit. Mandy’s right. Get ‘em fixed”, with that Kayleigh went inside, leaving Steve to resume his avoidance of the inevitable.

 As she entered the hallway she could hear Mandy “negotiating” with Chloe and Alfie over the evening’s dinner options, “We’re having a roast!” “We want chicken dippers!” “I want a fortnight in St Lucia, all inclusive but it’s not gonna happen.” “It’s not fair!” “No you’re right. Unlike many others, you’re going to bed tonight with full stomachs and a roof over your heads. It really isn’t fair.” “Yeah but we won’t have chicken dippers!” “Your suffering is noted. I’ll call Simon Cowell, see if One Direction want to reform for a benefit gig.” “So, can we have them then?” “Eh...let me think about it...no.” “Muuummmm” “Chlooooeeeee. Both of you, zip it. We’re having a roast dinner. Any more complaints and it’ll be with extra veggies and no Yorkshire’s.” That appeared to do the trick and the pair retreated in defeat. Kayleigh smiled at her exasperated sister. “One of those days?” “Let’s just say it didn’t improve after you left. Sometimes it feels as though I’m tryin’ to manage three kids.” Looking at her bags Mandy asked, “D’ya get what you wanted?” Now there was a question. “I got some shoes and a couple of bits”. “Well then. Let’s see!” Kayleigh produced her purchases to much ooing and ahhing from her sister. “Those shoes will make your legs look incredible! You’ll knock John dead!” Kayleigh’s reaction, or rather lack of it, spoke volumes. “Oh no. Please tell me you haven’t gone and binned him off.” “No! Course not! We just had a difficult conversation earlier.” “Define “difficult””. “I sort of, off loaded on him. I was feeling frustrated and I did exactly what I always hate. I just let it all build up and then got stroppy with him. I don’t think he had a clue what was going on, I didn’t even give him a chance and it all just spiralled out of control. I’m ruining everything!” Suddenly Kayleigh burst into tears. Mandy immediately rushed over and embraced her sister, “Aw, sweetheart.” As she offered what comfort she could amid the loud sobs, Alfie wandered through the hall and declared, “See! Even Auntie Kayleigh wants chicken dippers.” Mandy’s response was swift, “She’s crying because I’ve just told her what’s going to happen if you mention them again!” Kayleigh found herself laughing despite herself. “Listen, I’ve got a roast on. Needless to say, our resident food critics approve. It’ll be an hour or so yet. Why don’t you have a lie down. I’ll give you a shout when it’s ready.” “Thanks Mand.” “You really do need to talk to him Kayleigh. This isn’t fair on either of you. You need to explain your feelings and try to get some answers and he needs a chance to understand you and give his side of things.” “I’ll give him a call after dinner.” “Good idea. It would be such a shame to throw it all away when the two of you just need to get on the same page.” “You’re right sis. I can’t lose him because of this. You know, talking’s always been so easy for us. We’ve never done awkward silences. Now we’ve found the one topic that’s guaranteed to be a conversation killer and it’s the one thing we actually need to talk about.” “Well, get some rest and then take on the unspeakable Wonder Woman.” “I’ll fetch me golden lasso and cuffs.” “Now that’ll definitely do the trick.” Mandy grinned and Kayleigh headed up the stairs in the hope that a quick snooze might help her formulate a plan.

 “Christ! Take it easy Lewis Hamilton!” John exclaimed, as he swayed precariously in the front passenger seat. “I thought you wanted to get there quickly, Miss Daisy!” “I do! I’d just rather it wasn’t in a bloody body bag.” “Can I assume we’re not heading to Bury for you to have a long overdue booty call.” “Not unless it involves her sticking her boot up me arse.” “Well, if that’s how you like it. I make no judgement. Each to their own.” John gave Jim some vicious side eye. “Where’s your sense of humour these days?” “I’m just finding it hard to laugh at the general fuck up that my life has become.” “I thought we sorted this back at Big Bob’s. You love her, you want her, you just need to get over feelin’ awkward and you can crack on.” “You make it sound so easy”. “It is John. You keep on makin’ it complicated and you may as well forget it. Have you ever actually told Kayleigh how you feel about her?” “She knows. She’s got to.” “How? She a mind reader on the sly?” “I wrote her a song for Christ’s sake! It was all about hearts and journeys and colours and shit and I meant every word of it too. What more does she want!?” “Hearts and journeys and colours?” “Yeah, you know, she walked away with me heart, made my journey through life lonely and turned my world to colour from black and white, that sort of thing.” “You’re no Gary Barlow mate.” “That’s not what she said.” “Yeah, well she’s your number one fan.” “You make her sound like a friggin stalker!” “Has it ever occurred to you that maybe she doesn’t want theatrics and riddles. Maybe she just wants to hear you say the word.” “What word?” “LOVE! You bloody idiot!” Why does that matter so much!” “Because it’s a small word that’s about as big as it gets. It doesn’t mean “Iike”, it doesn’t mean “fancy”, it doesn’t mean “You’ll do for now until something better shows up”. It means, you’re feeling it where it matters, where it counts and not just between your legs! It says you could hurt me...maybe even more than I could ever hurt you. That’s what’s freakin’ you out. Isn’t it?” John sighed, “Yeah. Yeah it is. I’d never cried over a woman until Kayleigh. I mean, I’ve been sad before, I’ve even gone off me food.” “Jesus! When were that!?” “Oy!” “Sorry”. “I know now that she can hurt me, more than I’ve ever been hurt before, because she did”. “Now there’s a lyric. Seriously though, do you really think that by just not sayin’ it, you can somehow not feel it. Do you think it’ll protect you? Cause if you think that’s the case, I’ve got one question for you mate...how’s that workin’ out for you?” John put his head back against the headrest and momentarily closed his eyes. It was a silent answer, which somehow spoke volumes. 

 The rest of their journey was spent in companionable silence, interspersed with occasional instructions on which direction to take, from John. Finally, they arrived on the familiar road that led to Mandy’s house, or as John always thought, to Kayleigh. His heart and his brain were currently competing in a race to the finish that neither seemed willing to concede. “It’s up here on the right. Number 25. It might have a green gazebo.” “A green gazebo!” “Yeah. Her sister’s fella Steve’s into fixin’ bikes.” “That still doesn’t explain the gazebo.” “Fuck the gazebo! It’s not even up!” “Alright John! Calm down.” “Sorry, it’s here with the shitty Christmas Lights. Right, this is it.” “D’ya want me to come with you or wait here?” “Christ! I hadn’t thought about that. I don’t know how long I’ll be. She might kick me out before I can get a word in edge ways. Either that or I’ll be here for ages. It’ll be a feast or a famine.” “Well, let’s take it as it comes shall we? You need me to make meself scarce for a bit, I’ll find a Maccie D’s. You can text me when you want me to come back.” “Cheers mate.” “Is that Steve?” “Yeah. He’s sound”. Steve was already waving at John. John and Jim both got out to greet him, “Alright Steve?” “Hey John mate. I wasn’t expecting to see you today!” Furtively looking back at an amused Jim, John attempted a casual reply, “Well, Yeah, we, eh, happened to be in the area and I just thought I’d stop by and say hello to Kayleigh. She about by any chance?” “Yeah, she’s just back from the shops. Front door’s on the snib. Go on in.” “Thanks pal. This is my mate Jim by the way. Jim, this is Steve.” “How do mate.” “How do. Nice bike. Ya can’t wack a Triumph. John’s Dad were into his bikes if I remember rightly. He had a Triumph at one point and...aw what were it called? John! What was the name of that bike your Dad had?” John was already heading for the front door as he replied, “A Land Devil. Steve knows. I gave him some bits from the garage”. Steve replied, “That were very decent of you by the way”. “No bother”. With that John disappeared inside as Steve and Jim stood awkwardly like two spare parts at a wedding. Suddenly Steve produced a flask, “Fancy a brew mate?” “Don’t mind if I do.” Steve poured the tea into the plastic cup at the top of the flask, then refilled his Robocop mug”. “Nice mug.” “Thanks”. Steve looked up to Kayleigh’s bedroom. Jim watched his gaze and followed it upwards in the direction of a window with a heart shaped lamp at its centre. “He in the dog house again?” “How did you guess?” “She gets in a right mood when she’s pissed off with him”. Jim sighed before ruminating, “I think they just need a good talk.” “You ask me they need a bloody good shag!” For a second nothing was said as the two men simply looked at each other, in silence, before they both simultaneously broke into laughter and toasted each other with their mugs. Steve reached down into an ancient biscuit tin and brandishing it in front of Jim enquired, “Hob Nob?” With that, the male bond was firmly created. 

 John announced his arrival by calling out, “Hello! It’s John”. Mandy was in the kitchen up to her neck in carrots. She was shocked to see him but couldn’t deny that she was also delighted for her sister, “John Redmond! As I live and breathe. What brings you to the bright lights of Bury? Could it be a certain red head by any chance”.  Offering her a kiss on the cheek John smiled, ‘Hey Mandy. You rumbled me. She accepting visitors?” “She’s having a lie down upstairs.” “Any chance I could....?” “I’m not sure if I want you to finish that sentence”. “I just want to talk to her Mandy. We need to sort a few things.” “Do me a favour. Try to sort them in a way that doesn’t disturb the neighbours or traumatise the kids.” John smiled and looked suitably sheepish. “Up the stairs, first on the right.” “Thanks Mandy”. “Oh and John, do ya want a bit of roast?” “I’d love to but me mate Jim’s here with me. He’s outside with Steve.” “He can join us too if he likes. I’ve got half a cow ‘ere.” “Thanks Mandy, you’re a good ‘um.” With that, she smiled and retreated to the kitchen as John took a deep breath, climbed the stairs and knocked on Kayleigh’s bedroom door. She’d been lying on the bed with her headphones on listening to an old eighties mix tape. She hadn’t heard the knock at the door, so when it opened and John’s face peaked in, she literally shrieked, “JOHN!” Misty immediately started barking from the back garden. Only Kayleigh could reach that octave. She pulled her headphones off and immediately jumped off the bed. John stood in the doorway, his eardrums struggling to recover. “What are you doing here?!” “Well. I remembered it’s Sunday and I thought you might like a cuddle and a Chinese....or a cuddle and Mandy’s roast...or maybe just a cuddle.” Kayleigh stood so still, that he began to be concerned about what was to come, then without warning, she threw her arms around him and promptly burst into tears. “Oh John. I’m sooo sorry. I was so horrible to you. I didn’t mean to be such a nasty cow.” “Hey, sweetheart. Don’t get upset. It’s ok. It’s ok. You weren’t a nasty cow. You don’t have a nasty bone in your lovely little body. Don’t cry love.” “I just love you so much John”. “Look at me.” With that Kayleigh pulled back and faced him, wiping the tears from her eyes. “I’ve never said this to anyone before and it’s because I’ve never meant it until now. I should have said it to you weeks ago. The truth is, I probably knew it months ago...but I’m absolutely bloody certain of it now...I love you too Kayleigh Kitson. I love you more than I ever thought it was possible to love anyone or anything in this world and I’m scared. I’m terrified because for the first time in my life I’ve realised that something was missing and that something was you. If I lose you, I go back to who I was before and now I know that who I was before wasn’t complete. I had a Kayleigh Kitson shaped hole in my heart and in my life and I don’t want to go back. Not now, not ever.”...and there it was. He’d finally said it.