#give me five minutes and some coconut oil and I’ll have him come out the room shaking fr…

[cocobeanncteez]

ATEEZ San- Explore (oneshot)

Genre: Fluff, smut, high school au.

Pairing: badboy!San x reader (fem)

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: profanities, masturbating for the first time, handjob, clit play, fingering.

You took a bite of your sandwich, listening to your bestfriend talk to you and your friends about her first time with her boyfriend.

"I swear, nothing feels better than that," your bestfriend stated, taking a sip of her mango juice. "I can do it over and over again."

Miri laughed. "I told you you'd enjoy it! Now it's Y/N's turn!"

You nearly choked on your sandwich. "W-What?!"

"Y/N, I'm pretty sure you imagine Choi San fucking you until you see—"

"Shh!" you put your palm over her mouth. "We're in public! His crazy fans might hear you!"

A few months ago, you developed a crush on one of your school's badboys, Choi San, after he suddenly became interested in you after being partnered for an assignment. Initially, you thought he just wanted to get into your pants, but after five months of knowing him, you knew he genuinely cared about you. You couldn't deny that you liked the boy and of course you've thought about dating him, but you didn't know how he truly felt about you.

"I've seen the way you look at San," your bestfriend said with a smirk. "Not the lovey-dovey look, although I've seen that too, but I'm talking about the I-want-you-to-dick-me-down look." Your cheeks instantly turned a bright pink; were you really that obvious? Well, it's not your fault San looks irresistible. The man's a whole Greek God in your eyes.

"You should make a move on him, Y/N," Yeonhee said.

"Yeah, get some dick," Miri agreed.

"Guys, you're supposed to encourage me to study, not to have sex!" you said, finishing the remaining of your sandwich. "Besides, how will I let someone else do things to me when I've never done anything to myself?" Sure, you've made out before with your ex, but there was very minimal touching over the clothes and some tongue. You never went further than that.

"Then start with yourself, genius. Explore your body and get familiar with it," your bestfriend stated nonchalantly. "I have the perfect advice for you. Trust me, you'll love the experience once you start exploring yourself and it'll be even better when someone else does it for you."

-

"Hey, mom? Do we have coconut oil?" you asked, entering her bedroom. "My lips are really chapped," you lied, knowing your mother would definitely fall for it.

"Yeah, it's in the kitchen in the third cabinet," she answered. "It's good that you're finally using something natural and not those chemical filled products." Oh, if only she knew. "Coconut oil is very safe and has a lot of benefits."

"Mhmm, yeah."

You wished your mother goodnight before you made your way to the kitchen, filling a tiny container with the oil. You couldn't buy sexual lube at the moment and you didn't want to wait, so this was your only option.

You went to your room, placing the tiny container on your bedside table while waiting for your parents to fall asleep. Once you were sure they were asleep, you locked your bedroom door.

You took off your clothes and lied down on your back, remembering all the advice your friends gave you.

You coated your fingers with the coconut oil before pressing it to your clit. You gently rubbed your nub in an up-and-down motion, closing your eyes while you thought of San hovering over you, imagining that your fingers were his. Your free hand moved to cup one of your breasts, giving it a gently squeeze. You could feel the heat at your hole, dripping with your essence while you increased the pace, rubbing your clit faster, imagining San slamming his cock in and out of you.

"San!" you moaned loudly, fingers moving faster on your clit; you were glad your parents' room was downstairs and on the other side of the house. Your back arched and your jaw dropped when you felt your clit become sensitive; it felt so so good. You kept rubbing at your nub until your legs shook and your clit was overstimulated. Was that it? Did you cum? You didn't even know. You assumed you didn't based on what your friends described an orgasm as.

You tried to rub yourself again, but your clit was too sensitive to handle it. You slowly sat up, putting your panties back on, feeling a little disappointed that you didn't orgasm. Oh well, you can always try again next time.

The sound of someone clearing their throat made you jump and you cover yourself with your blanket.

"San?!"

San was inside your room, leaning against your open balcony door, staring at you with a smirk on his face. He was dressed in ripped jeans and a white t-shirt, and yet, he looked absolutely divine.

San has come into your room a bunch of times, but you certainly weren't expecting him today. He always calls you before coming over, so you wondered why he didn't do that this time.

"I'm sorry for interrupting your... session," he said, although he didn't seem sorry at all. "I would've stayed outside, but it's really cold, and as you can see, I'm not wearing warm clothes."

You didn't really know what to say. "Uh, when did you get here?" 

"A minute or two before you moaned my name," he muttered with a smirk, making you pull the blanket up to cover your flushed face. So he saw pretty much everything?

San chuckled, moving to sit beside you on your bed. "Don't feel shy or embarrassed, Y/N," he pulled the blanket down to your neck to reveal your face. "I always think of you whenever I need to get off." You involuntarily let out a small whimper, feeling your sensitive clit throb at his words.

You sat up straight, letting the blanket fall to your waist, revealing your bare upper body. You noticed San gulp while his eyes took in the sight of your breasts. You wrapped your arms around his neck while you leaned in, gently kissing his jawline. San smiled, his hands moving to your bare waist, making you gasp at the feeling of his cold hands on your heated body.

Unable to control yourself, you crashed your lips onto his, and he responded immediately. You had imagined how it would feel to kiss San several times before, but this was a whole lot better.

Without breaking the kiss, you pushed him onto his back, straddling his lap. San smirked at your actions and you leaned down, reconnecting your lips. You involuntarily grinded onto his growing bulge, causing him to groan in pleasure. You could feel your panties sticking to your wet folds while you moved on him. Without breaking the heated kiss, San sat up, pulling you along with him, so that his back was resting against the headboard of your bed and you were still straddling him. He broke the kiss to trail open mouth kisses along your neck, making you tilt your head to give him more access.

"Can I touch you?" he mumbled against your skin, giving it a little nibble.

"Yes, please..."

San's hands moved up your body to your breasts. He gently massaged your breasts before taking one of your nipples in his mouth. He flicked it with his tongue, giving it a little swirl before repeating the same action for the other one.

"You don't know how many times I've wanted to do this to you," he said, lips meeting yours in a quick kiss before he changed positions, hovering above you. "Every time I came to your room, I had to control myself so much from wanting to kiss you... to touch you..." his hand moved down to your thighs, giving it a squeeze before he teased your inner thighs. He slowly moved his hand to cup your clothed heat, making you whimper.

"Fuck, please touch me," you begged.

San slowly took your panties off, mouth watering at the sight of your glistening core. His fingers moved to your clit, gently stroking your sensitive nub. You grabbed his hand once your clit became too oversensitive again, stopping him from touching you.

"I... it's very sensitive from what I was... doing before. It was my first time, so I don't think I can handle more," you mumbled, cheeks heating up. That's when San noticed the tiny container of coconut oil on your bedside table.

"Oh, you masturbated for the first time today?" he asked. You nodded, a little embarrassed.

"And you were thinking of me while you did it? Fuck, that's so hot," he murmured, leaning down to kiss you. "Since you're overstimulated, I won't touch you there. But I can finger you, if and only if that's okay with you."

You nodded. "It won't hurt, right?"

"From what I've heard, it most likely won't. I'll be as gentle as possible."

"Okay... then finger me, please."

San kissed your neck while his fingers explored the area around your entrance, avoiding your sensitive clit; he didn't want to just shove his fingers up immediately. "Just relax, baby," he murmured against your skin, and your tense body relaxed a bit. He ran his finger along your wet folds, collecting your juices. He took his time, teasing you around that area, trying to get you wetter.

When you felt wetter, he moved his body to rest in between your legs. He slowly slipped a finger into your hole. "Does it hurt?" he asked. You shook your head and he continued pushing his finger all the way in. You winced at the slight sting you felt when he pulled his finger back a little. "Are you okay? Does it hurt, baby?"

"It stings a little, but it's tolerable," you said, your hands moving to his messy black hair.

San slowly started pumping his finger in you, trying to be as gentle as possible; the stingy feeling was starting to fade away and you let him know that. He tapped around your walls, searching for your g-spot. You sucked in a breath when he found your spot, clutching a fistful of his hair. "Found it," he smirked, continuing to finger you, making sure to hit that very spot.

"S-San..." you moaned, your walls clenching around his finger. He kissed and gently sucked on the skin of your inner thighs while he fingered you. You could feel something building up in your lower stomach, and you assumed you were close to orgasming. "San, I think I'm—"

"Let it go," he pumped his fingers faster, making your back arch. "Cum for me, baby." His words and a few more pumps was all it took for your orgasm to wash over you, making you loudly moan his name. He pulled his fingers out, sucking them clean, eyes closing at your taste. "So fucking sweet."

You pulled San into a kiss, tasting yourself, feeling really happy and relaxed. You felt his hard-on press against your inner thigh, and you instantly pulled away. "Let me help you now."

San pecked your lips. "It's fine, Y/N. This is all new to you so I don't want to make you uncomfortable or something."

"I'll be happy knowing that you're satisfied too," you said, running a hand through his hair. "But you'll have to show me how cause I've never done this before."

He chuckled cutely, kissing you softly before he sat against the headboard. "Grab the oil, baby. Pour some onto your palm," he said, pulling his t-shirt over his head, revealing his toned abs. You did as he said while watching him unzip his jeans, taking it off along with his briefs, causing his hard cock to slap against his lower stomach, the tip leaking with precum. Your eyes roamed all over his naked body; you always thought San looked extremely handsome, but now he looked even better.

"Touch me, Y/N," he said with a smile, grabbing your attention. "You just have to touch me like this," he showed you how to do it and gave you a few tips.

"Okay..."

You gently wrapped your oily hand around his length, earning a slight hiss from him. You moved your hand up and down his length just like he showed you, lubricating it with the oil. You twisted your hand slightly, moving closer to his tip. "Fuck," he muttered when you swiped your finger along his slit; you mentally noted that he liked it. Your hand moved back down and you added a little pressure, slowly jerking him off. "You're doing so well, baby," he moaned, staring at you with hooded eyes, lower lip caught in between his teeth. You increased the pace, making him buck his hips up. "Keep going, doll... I'm so close." You moved your hands faster, earning a loud groan from San while he orgasmed, his cum shooting onto his stomach and some spilling onto your hand. You stroke him for a few more seconds before removing your hand.

San pulled you into a quick kiss. "That was amazing, Y/N. You did so well."

"T-Thanks..." you blushed. "I'm glad you liked it."

"I loved it," he pecked your lips. "Let's clean up, hmm?" You nodded, and the two of you made your way to your bathroom.

San told you about his day while you both washed up. After you both got dressed, you cuddled on your bed, resting your head on his chest.

"Oh, by the way... I actually came here to tell you something," San said, intertwining your hand with his.

"Tell me what?" you questioned sleepily; you could hear his heartbeat speed up.

San took a deep breath, feeling quite nervous. "I... I like you, Y/N," he confessed. "I've liked you ever since we worked on that assignment together. My feelings just keep getting stronger, so I just had to let you know today."

You moved so that you could see his face that was filled with hope and anxiety because he wasn't sure if you felt the same way even after what you both did minutes ago.

You reached up to cup his cheek, hand moving down to run along his sharp jawline. You brought his face closer to yours, capturing his lips in a soft, slow kiss, instantly making his tense body relax. You pulled away slightly to say, "I like you too, Sannie."

San smiled wide, his dimples showing. He pulled you into a kiss even though he wasn't able to stop smiling.

He pulled away to look at you, his hand gently running through your hair. "Would you do me the honor of going on a date with me tomorrow?"

You nodded with a smile, pecking his cheek. "Gladly."

[foodieforthoughts]

Here's a thought for you. Syverson helping his pregnant wife with a perineal massage that slowly descends into utter filth *runs as people start pelting me with tomatoes while shouting 'WHORE!' 'WHORE!' and slinks back into my underground cave*

Omg! My baby maker Sy to the rescue of his pregnant wife 😍 I had so much fun writing this and it's educational too. Although I would like to point out, always! Consult your OB before engaging in activities (sexual or otherwise) while pregnant.

Also I had decided to post requests once a week but it's Sy and Mondays should always begin with some Sy lovin' 🤭

Warning: 18+, smut, pregnant reader, oral (female receiving), pregnancy kink, breeding kink, fingering, basically everything Sy is good at 😜

*gif credit to owner*

Title: Baby mama

"Comfortable?" Sy wiped his hands on a clean towel, kneeling down at the end of the bed. You had your body nestled in your soft, fluffy pregnancy pillow. It wasn't required for you to get naked but the last weeks of your term had you hot and flushed, with being in your 'birthday suit' your only comfort outfit.

You massaged your swollen belly bringing your knees up and spreading your thighs out, letting your body relax while watching Sy grab the bottle of coconut oil placed on the mattress.

"I do not like the idea of your kid tearing out of my body." You grimaced as Sy smeared the oil on your perineum, rubbing it lightly over your folds. You couldn't see him because of your belly with the feel of his fingers and the sound of the bottle cap popping being your only indication of what was happening in the nether region.

Sy chuckled and moved to peer at you from the side of your knee. "Which is why we have to do this. Doc said it'll help with the delivery."

You craned your neck to look at your husband. "I might just tell her to give me a c-section."

"Maybe we'll do that with the next one."

You scoffed. "Funny you think I'll let you put another baby in me after this one comes out."

A shit eating grin appeared on Sy's face before he went back to his place between your thighs. "We'll see about that." You heard him say as he placed a soft kiss on the inside of your thigh. "Just relax okay?"

You took a deep breath preparing yourself for what was to come next. You winced as you felt Sy's index fingers enter your hole. You had begun dreading the usually pleasurable experience as he applied a little downward pressure to stretch you out. The burning sensation was normal but it felt weird to be letting yourself feel it on purpose which involuntarily made you clench.

"Relax, baby. Just a minute." Sy cooed counting the seconds out loud.

You closed your eyes and focused on breathing normally. When one minute was up, Sy massaged upward on the insides of your folds which pulled out a moan from your lips.

"Baby, don't be moanin' like that now." Sy grumbled, a strain in his voice as he spoke. You laughed, feeling relaxed and satisfied that you could still have that kind of effect on your husband even after four years of being married.

Five more minutes of repeating the same maneuver and you were not as tensed about the whole thing anymore. In fact you were a moaning mess as Sy massaged with tender touches around your pussy. You cupped your engorged breasts in your hands and pinched your nipples as arousal bubbled in the pit of your belly.

"Sy." You moaned out his name when you felt his thumb graze over your increasingly sensitive clit. It was like the permission Sy was seeking as soon after you felt his warm mouth on your nub. He brought his hands up on your belly, slowly running his hands over your skin.

Kissing the inside of your thighs, Sy relaxed you in more ways than one. "You are so beautiful, baby." He mumbled against your skin. Warmth flushed on your cheeks with his compliment and also made it's way to your core. You arched your back the best you could to get his attention back to where you needed his mouth to be.

A shaky moan escaped your lips as his tongue worked on your clit and his fingers rubbed slow, languid circles on your quivering hole. He kept your folds open with his fingers as he sucked and licked you. Sweat covered your body with tense knots forming in your belly with the pleasure building up. You whimpered as his digit teased your entrance, nudging inside with slow pumps. You panted with the thrusts of his finger, letting go of your breasts and clutching the softness of the pillow.

"Oh, fuck Sy. That feels so good." You managed to speak in between your huffs, rutting your hip to get closer to Sy's face more than it already was. You groaned as he added another finger, hooking them to rub against the swollen bundles of nerves inside you. You wanted to watch him eat you out but it wasn't possible with your pregnant state, it drove you crazy that you couldn't even hold onto him while he provided you with the most exhilarating experience.

But Sy knew you too well by now. He knew how you liked to grab onto his shoulders when you chased your high. He extended his hand to reach you which you grasp with urgency, entwinining your fingers with his and closing your eyes as your heart raced with your orgasm just a thrust away. With a straining moan your pussy clenched around his fingers, releasing the knots of pleasure and making you arch your back as the orgasm rippled through your body in waves. You shuddered as Sy licked your juices clean, your thighs shivering as his tongue ran over your overtly sensitive clit.

You panted trying to catch your breath, resting against the cushion with your legs falling limply on the side. Sy came up to you, grinning from ear to ear. You noted the tent in the front of his pants, his erection straining against his shorts. His beard glistened with the mixture of your essence and the oil. You brought your hand to cup his face with Sy leaning into your touch.

"Fuck me, Sy." You pleaded. You hadn't felt him inside you since you entered the 34th week of your pregnancy. He was too careful around you now, only pleasuring you with his mouth and his hands.

"Patience, baby. Just a couple more weeks." He kissed your pouty lips, chuckling as you looked at him with fake anger.

You reached down to the front of his pants, palming his cock through the fabric. He groaned and bucked his hips into your hand instinctively. He 'tsk-ed' and shook his head. But you were adamant on returning the favour. You half turned your body, reaching at his waistband with both hands, biting your lip and looking up at him from under your lashes.

Tugging at his shorts and freeing his hardened length, you watched your husband lick his lips with his blue orbs darkening with lust. You grabbed his thick, veiny, pulsating cock, giving it a long stroke and whispering, "Maybe you can fuck my mouth."

[keepyourpantsongohan]

Hills of Marigold

Before that, we must find love and fill the vessel with it. (Chapter 500) | Discord Secret Santa 2020 for @chavelink​. | AO3 | Holiday Prompt: Day of the Dead.

                                ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

It starts with Kakashi’s sticker chart.

Naruto is not quite old enough for the Academy yet, but his eagerness to become a shinobi is almost as vast as his ability to turn his home upside down the minute his parents look away.

Though Kakashi’s duties don’t usually leave him much time for babysitting, he knows more than most how rare it is that the Hokage gets free time, so he volunteers himself twice a month to be subject to the hurricane that is five-year-old Uzumaki Naruto in his sensei’s stead.

Out-running Naruto is not the problem. Kakashi is certainly fast enough to reach him before he can do any permanent damage. What really perplexes Kakashi is how to keep a five-year-old entertained. Naruto is more loud, curious and insistent on clinging to Kakashi every minute of he’s around than anyone he’s ever met. (Even Gai can be reasoned with, Kakashi thinks, trying to make rice with two sticky hands tugging on his jōnin blues.)

“Why can’t we eat ramen instead, Kakashi-niichan?” Naruto complains, scrunching up his face.

“It doesn’t have any nutritional value,” Kakashi replies, sighing.

Naruto pauses, and though Kakashi’s eyes are on the stovetop, he knows the younger boy is frowning. “What’s that?”

“Vitamins and minerals. Those things are in the vegetables you’re going to eat.” He eyes the other pan, and decides it’s time to plate the sweet potato and broccoli. Naruto doesn’t look particularly enthused, so Kakashi reminds him, “If you want to become a ninja, you’ll have to eat the kind of food which makes you stronger.”

At the mention of the word ‘ninja,’ Naruto’s face lights up. “Hey, Kakashi-nii, teach me a jutsu!”

It’s not the first time Naruto has asked, and Kakashi usually flat-out refuses. Naruto is destructive enough without any shinobi techniques. But an idea suddenly strikes Kakashi. “How about we make a deal?”

The deal Kakashi proposes is premised on the most basic of tactics Minato-sensei has instilled in his team: Positive reinforcement. If Naruto behaves well enough, Kakashi will teach him something.

It becomes clear to Kakashi in the first hour or so that Naruto’s impatience outweighs his focus. With the prospect of a ninja technique on the line, he is far more concerned about hassling the information out of Kakashi than he is about washing up after lunch, or cleaning his room. So it falls on Kakashi to improvise.

Kakashi holds up the latest Ichiraku flyer. “You see these stickers?” he asks.

“So we are getting ramen?” Naruto asks, bouncing on his heels.

“Not today.” Carefully, Kakashi peels up a circle which announces a 10% off deal on yakisoba. “If you can earn five of these stickers, I’ll teach you how to knock someone my size off of their feet. But I’ll keep the flyer with me, so there’s no cheating.”

Kakashi’s plan is more effective than he could’ve predicted. Not only does Naruto manage to keep himself clean the rest of the afternoon, but his attempts at taijutsu tire him out to the point where, for once, he is asleep in bed by the time Minato and Kushina come home.

“Are you interested in becoming a jōnin-sensei, Kakashi?” Minato asks him with a wide smile.

“Not on your life,” says Kakashi, shunshin-ing away with a wave.

—

Whether he likes it or not, Kakashi does become something of a teacher to Naruto. The young boy, distracted as he is, doesn’t shy away from hard work, as long as it’s something that interests him. After a while, they make their way through some basic attack and defence strategy (though Naruto seems to rely much more heavily on the former). Kakashi even tries to work with him on chakra control, but despite his size, Naruto’s chakra reservoir is enormous, so even gathering chakra to his palms proves difficult.

By the time they take a break in the late afternoon, Kakashi half-wishes he could reach for the book in his pocket and spend the rest of the day letting Naruto practice, but he knows shinobi at this age usually need supervision. He sighs, passing his hand over the dandelions wistfully.

“It’s not fair, y’know,” Naruto complains, sprawled out on the grass. “How come I can’t make my hands work like yours, Kakashi-nii?”

“You’re five,” Kakashi tells him, as if it’s that simple.

“But Sasuke can—”

Kakashi hears Naruto complain about Sasuke, his habitual playmate, often. Itachi’s little brother, if the name is anything to go by. Kakashi isn’t sure if Naruto sees Sasuke as his greatest enemy or best friend.

“It doesn’t matter how quickly you can learn. What’s important is that you work at it.” Kakashi says firmly. Sensing Naruto needs more reassurance, he adds, “Besides, Sasuke may not have as much chakra as you do.”

Naruto mulls this thought over, tugging the grass into his small fists. “Why not?”

Kakashi thinks of Kushina, and the overwhelming energy it must take just to contain her presence. “It seems to run in your family.”

As if summoned by these words, Kakashi feels a shift in the air which marks Naruto’s mother’s arrival. The sure-footed sound of her sandals landing on a tree branch, the smell of coconut oil from her hair, and the loud chakra signature which matches her son.

“It’s time for dinner, y’know!” Kushina announces, hands on her hips as she jumps down. “Minato made grilled saury, and I won’t have you boys coming back when it’s already cold.”

“Food!” Naruto says, hopping to his feet with a grin. He grabs his mother’s hand. “Let’s go, kaa-chan!”

Weakly, Kakashi tries to raise his hands in a warding gesture. “Actually, I have some food at home—”

“Nice try,” Kushina says, grabbing the collar of his flak vest with her free hand. “You’re coming too, Kakashi.”

Kakashi sighs, letting himself be tugged along. “Aren’t I too old for you to still be force-feeding me?”

“If you want to be a ninja, you have to eat strong things,” Naruto pipes up from Kushina’s side helpfully.

“You tell him, Naruto!” Kushina says, grinning at her son.

“I don’t like being a sensei,” Kakashi mutters under his breath, while Kushina and Naruto laugh at him.

—

Despite Kakashi’s words, dinner at the Uzumaki household isn’t so bad. Kushina may give him too many helpings of saury, Minato might be far too concerned about his social life, and Naruto might try to dump his vegetables on Kakashi’s plate, but there is a warmth in their home in which Kakashi cannot help but feel caught up.

It is this same warmth which has him linger after dinner is over, handing plates over to Kushina as Minato carries Naruto off to bed.

“I want to thank you, y’know,” Kushina says gently. “Naruto thinks pretty highly of you.”

Kakashi ducks his head, cheeks ruddy over the edge of his mask. “I’m not doing much.”

“He really looks forward to those stickers, and your lessons.” she says. Her eyes drift towards the fridge, where Naruto has stuck a colourful paper with his assortment of Ichiraku coupons. “I was wondering, do you mind if I join you both next time? There’s a place I’d like to show Naruto. And you, if you’re willing.”

The request leaves Kakashi taken aback. While Kushina doesn’t often leave the village, he knows she’s as busy as Minato-sensei, overseeing most of the genin and chunin missions in his stead. But Kushina’s eyes are sincere and bright, so he cannot bring himself to question the request.

“Ah, sure,” he replies. “What did you have in mind?”

What Kushina has in mind, it turns out, is a week-long trip to the coastline. It requires Kakashi to turn down a two-man mission with Tenzō, and an invitation from Asuma to join his former classmates for Yakiniku, but he is curious about what could Kushina could want to show them so much. A curiosity which only grows when he realizes that Minato-sensei will be joining them.

Kakashi leans against the doorframe, straightening up when his sensei walks in, backpack in hand. “Is it really okay for you to be leaving Konoha for a week, sensei? I mean, Yondaime-sama?” he corrects.

“I wouldn’t be leaving if I didn’t think so,” Minato replies firmly. “Our village is made up of more than just the Hokage, Kakashi. Shikaku-san will look after the the jōnin, and Chōza-san will see to the genin and chunin. Sandaime-sama has agreed to deal with any emergencies. Konoha will be fine without us.”

Kakashi’s brows draw together. “Whatever Kushina wants us to see must be important.”

Minato smiles. “I’ll leave it to her to tell you the rest. Let’s get going.”

—

It occurs to Kakashi, as they head east, that he has never seen Minato and Kushina on a mission together.

It is something to behold. They keep pace with each other naturally, even with Kushina carrying Naruto on her back. And though Kushina’s presence is louder and bolder than Minato’s, there is a synchronicity in their movements which makes Kakashi think of celestial bodies moving in each other’s orbit. It strikes Kakashi with the memory of being five years old himself, seeing two smiling faces looking down at him in the moonlight.

As they stop to rest for the night, Kakashi puzzles over if he’s ever taken a trip like this, just for the sake of it. If he has, it’s hard to recall. At Naruto’s age, his world had been so different.

Even his sensei has changed somehow, he decides, looking at Minato, Kushina and Naruto piled beneath one blanket. More at ease with the world, he thinks, watching as Naruto’s knee digs into his father’s chest. He hears Minato whisper something to Kushina, and watches their hands intertwine, musing on what it would be like to look so certain of his place in life.

“Don’t look so gloomy,” Kushina tells him the next morning, as they pack up. “You’re not on duty today. You can relax. Maybe even smile.”

“I relax,” Kakashi replies, crossing his arms.

Kushina laughs, reaching upward to muss up his hair. He wonders when he outgrew her. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

The last half of their trip passes quickly. They stop in a seaside village long enough for lunch, but from thereon out, the rest of their trip is past far enough from the forest that the landscape remains full and vast before them.

Kakashi takes note as they pass over rolling hills filled with marigolds, adding unusual brightness to their path. Kushina’s speed finally slows down to a walking pace, and it allows Naruto to stare with open-mouthed appreciation at their view.

“Orange is my favourite colour,” Naruto announces, holding up a flower right up to Kakashi’s visible eye.

“I believe you,” says Kakashi.

Kakashi wonders if this is another trait that runs in their family, as he watches Kushina gather a bouquet of her own. Minato looks on with fondness, taking their son into his arms instead, so that his wife can move more freely.

When Kushina is nearly done, Minato approaches her and tucks a flower into her hair. His gaze is warm and soft in a way that makes Kakashi feel like he should look away. He wonders yet again why Kushina has asked him here, with their family, bright and orange and whole.

Kushina turns to Kakashi. “We’re almost there.”

Flowers clutched in hand, they walk until the flowers give way to grass, and until that grass shifts to sand. Though it’s approaching sunset, the water still shines with its warm reflection, straight through the lapping waves to let its bright golden twin rest at their feet. The salted air fills their lungs with every breath.

Wordlessly, Kushina removes her shoes, and Minato takes them into one hand and watches her walk slowly across the sand. Kushina approaches the edge of the water. Marigold petals fall into her footsteps, somehow unmoved by the changing winds.

“Mito-sama,” says Kushina, clear and certain over the breeze. “It’s good to visit you again.”

It only occurs to Kakashi then just where Kushina has taken them. Beyond the horizon line, though he’s never seen it, he’s almost certain there would’ve once been an island. The tide looks calm now, but he’s heard of the powerful current that few shinobi would be able to navigate unscathed.

Kakashi doesn’t expect Kushina’s call to be answered, if her words are for the person he suspects. To his surprise, however, he does hear something, a melodious whisper, by wind or water, that makes Kushina turn to them with the widest smile Kakashi has ever seen.

“Mito-sama,” Kushina says, with nothing pride in her eyes, “There’s someone I’d like you to meet. Naruto?”

Minato sets his son down on the sand, and lays an encouraging hand on top of his hair. “Go on.”

Naruto is uncharacteristically quiet as he approaches his mother, gazing up at the horizon as he might a new friend. “The name is Uzumaki Naruto!” he proclaims, to the sea.

Kushina’s arms come around Naruto, allowing him to lean his back against her legs. “You told me once that I needed to fill this vessel with love. Naruto... it’s more like he makes the vessel bottomless, because he fills it with more to love than we ever thought possible. He eats lots, and grows every day. He’s really good at making friends. He’s not in the Academy yet, but he’s always doing his best to learn. He’s probably a little too much like me, but I see Minato in him too. We’re a family now, y’know?”

With that, Minato steps forward. Kakashi’s eyes are so fixed on the scene in front of him, he doesn’t notice Minato looking at him until a hand touches his shoulder. “Kakashi,” he says gently, inclining his head towards the water.

Hesitantly, Kakashi walks in step with Minato. When the sand grows wet beneath his feet and his toes are lapped at by the tide, he feels Naruto grab for his hand. He stares at the small fingers for a moment, feeling Minato’s palm still resting on his shoulder, and strands of Kushina’s long hair brushing against all of their backs.

Kushina listens to the wind’s rhythm intently, and continues. “You know Minato. We’ve been walking side-by-side since we were kids. And now, we look over the village together. I think you would like the way it looks now.”

Kakashi feels Kushina’s eyes turn to him. “And this is Kakashi. He’s like a little brother to me. Or like... an older brother to Naruto. I think he’s still too scrawny to be someone’s uncle. He takes too many missions, and he doesn’t spend enough time being a teenager, and he’s always slouching— but he also cares about people more than almost anyone, in this land or the next. I think he likes being Naruto’s teacher, no matter what he says. He’s family too.”

Swallowing against a suddenly tight throat, Kakashi tries not to let Naruto feel his hand shake. “Nice to meet you, Mito-sama,” he says, when he can find his voice.

He cannot make out the wind’s song over the sound of his thudding heartbeat, but he does feel a light breeze against brush against his forehead, leaving the same warmth in its path as his mother and father did when they pressed a goodnight kiss to his temple. His eyes widen.

“I’m glad you could join us, Kakashi,” Minato says, squeezing Kakashi’s shoulder.

In turn, Kakashi’s grip on Naruto’s fingers becomes tighter, if still gentle. “Me too.”

[secretshinigami]

routine and soft eyes

Author: @hazblogs For: @beyondplusultra Pairings/Characters: nearmellomatt, mention of lawlight Rating/Warnings: T, mentions of Mello’s scar  Prompt: Wammy House kids sleepover (A, B, L can be included, can be AU) Author’s notes: I had so much fun with this !!! soft bois…. thank you to anyone who reads it !!

Mello is positively fuming. Someone (who shall not be named, though if you want to know it starts with “N” and ends with “-ate River”) just got on top of Forensic Science and Investigative Skills and History of Crime and the Justice System. Those are Mello’s topics. They’re the best at these and they always have been (in the two years they’ve studied here. But that’s long enough, right ?), so the fact that Mister Nobody just came in and stole their turf… That’s infuriating. To top it all off, the dean did them dirty and assigned someone to the second bed in their room, knowing full well that they need that second bed for Matt. This week is just a pile of flaming shit.

As they swing the door open they are greeted by the beeping sounds usually coming from Matt’s bed, a comforting electronic melody. Matt doesn’t even turn around to raise his middle finger to protest against how loud Mello is, but that’s also common practice around here, so no worries. 

“Heard you got your ass beat,” Matt says a while later, Mello’s hand carding through his strawberry-green hair. “By the newbie no less. How’re you taking it ?”

“Matt, my hand is dangerously close to your eyes and you need those to play on that stupid console. Better not risk it.”

“Like you’d ever hurt me,” Matt grumbles, and the certainty with which he speaks makes their heart pulse just a little faster. Mello is hopelessly in love, aren’t they ?

The rest of the evening is quiet save for that same musical background, a welcome white noise as Mello finishes their essay for Writing Comedy. The teacher seems to have some trouble with their rather macabre humour so they try to tone it down for once - rather unsuccessfully.

“Also heard you’ll have a roommate,” Matt continues a few hours later as they prepare for bed - gotta put some moisturiser on that scar like a damsel doing her skincare routine, the doctor said, “or you’ll experience how actually painful it can be”. Talk about being threatening…

“I heard. I can kick them out.” Mello would do it. Without remorse, even.

“I can sleep in your bed too,” Matt offers. “But only if you promise not to kick me out from under the covers every single night.”

“Okay, first of all, fuck off, and secondly, why the hell would I want someone else to room with me ? You’re already here. You’ve always been here.”

“And I always will be, Mels. Just… I think it’s time you get out of your shell a little bit, you know ? You can’t keep pretending that talking to me twice every day and ignoring Linda a couple times a week is enough friendly interaction for the little pea inside your coconut.” Mello turns away from the mirror, moisturiser in hand, and sends a glare to Matt who sighs and raises his hands in defeat. “Don’t say I didn’t try ! Think about it, okay, Mello ?”

They do think about it. The whole night. They don’t sleep - it’s not because Matt snores but that’s the excuse they’ll use. Ever since the accident and the scar, people have usually been too impressed - or scared - by them to even consider starting a casual conversation. Matt was there even before, and he probably always will be, Linda is a weirdo who wants to draw them with a ponytail, and… Well, that’s it. Mello lives for schoolwork, to be the best and hope to right some of the wrongs in this world.

“Yo, Mihael,” the dean says when he sees them in front of his office the following morning. Lawliet is a TA at their university, still haunting the dorms. He has a creepy smile under his stupid raccoon eyes and he keeps using Mello’s birthname, like it makes any more sense to call them with that than to call them “xXx_sexy_blondie_xXx”, or however you pronounce that out loud.

“Lawliet. I saw you assigned me a roommate.”

“I did,” he smiles still, like there’s a joke Mello doesn’t get.

“Why ?” Mello would actually like to know - Lawliet never does anything at random.

“You’ll see when he arrives later today,” is the cryptic answer, and Mello sneers at their stupid fucking dean as they leave for their 8am lecture.

Because yes, multiple things are out to get their skin - though they won’t be deterred.

The day goes by in a flash, Screenwriting and Poetry being two of their most interesting classes, and by the time they’ve finished their Crime Prevision and Prevention homework at the library, the sun is well on its way down. Mello walks slowly to the dorms, enjoying the warm air - it’s still only September and winter hasn’t come yet. The music blasting from their headphones is a perfect background to the chill atmosphere, a few bird silhouettes dark against the wonderfully peach clouds. In a few minutes they’ll kiss Matt and they’ll eat a bite, and they’ll sleep knowing they’re safe now.

When they arrive in front of their room, a few cardboard boxes occupy the entrance. Shit fuck hell, they’d forgotten the roommate arrived today. All they can see from where they’re blocked from entering is a white blob of hair on top of baggy clothes, perched on the desk and looking at whatever Matt is playing.

“Uh, I’m supposed to be able to enter my own room,” Mello kind of yells. Only kind of. “Would you please not be a giant stupid bother before I even get your name ?”

“Sorry,” the snowball says, not looking sorry at all. “I’m Nate River.”

“But you can call him Near ! He plays retro games, which isn’t… let’s say it’s not my strong point, but I’m sure it’ll go well, we’re three whole weirdos with weirdo nicknames !”

Mello blinks. Near is still here. They blink again. Near is still here, looking a little like a frog with his lopsided smile, a hand playing with one of his curls. Mello blinks a third time and doesn’t expect Near to have packed his things and go, but that was a close call.

“Are you fucking kidding me,” they mutter. “Lawliet is gonna get killed.”

“You actually know enough about criminology to not be caught, so go you.” Near is smirking. Mello wants to cry. “But I would advise against it, because he’s dating that twink Light Yagami, the alumni who came last week to give the presentation about the War on Drugs and its consequences. He’s a police lieutenant now.”

“Called it !” Matt raises a fist in victory, taking five years from Mello’s lifespan. “Anyway, now that you’re here, please do help us with the last boxes. We’ve been setting up Near’s compy and it’s revoltingly difficult.”

“I will not- how can you ask me to- I’m gonna commit arson and this time I promise I’ll succeed !”

“Dramatic bitch,” Matt says jovially. “Just come in and drop your stuff, apparently someone from the ADA thing comes tomorrow to make sure the room is accessible with a crutch and to help Near settle in.”

Mello just now notices that Near isn’t fully standing up - he’s propped on the desk, a mechanical knee peeking through the bottom of his shorts. This changes nothing - though Mello feels the both grim and hopeful sense of community that disabled people get when they meet. Their ear still works wonky and their eye ? Not the sharpest either. Without talking about all the skin damage, the phantom pain, the- hell no, they won’t get into “reflective mode” without having eaten dinner first.

Reluctantly, Mello spends the rest of the evening avoiding Near as Matt and them help him settle in, surprised by the small amount of belongings he actually has - most of the boxes he brought are board games and hundreds of little kapla sticks. Is Near planning to recreate the Golden Bridge ? He looks like a nerd, maybe it’ll be the Death Star.

Routines are a persistent thing, and before they know it, Near has managed to get a small space - small, they insist - in Mello’s well-oiled machinery. He eats breakfast with Matt, a meal that Mello forgoes entirely, and he goes on unfortunate walks to his PT appointments, because he’s out of money from whatever government organism gives benefits to disabled people and can’t afford a cab. Mello thinks they should get into it a little more, maybe call their case worker, because ramen tastes worse and worse when you have it for every meal of the week. And then Near and Matt start talking about something or another, especially topics that annoy Mello, or Near gets a little too close to them while they both work on their assignments at their desk, his elbow barely brushing Mello’s side. It makes them shiver, but they will ignore that, thank you very much.

Another routine - bedtime - has gotten a little different. One single bed is enough for “one person and a half”, according to Matt, so the obvious solution to them being three in a two single beds room is to push the beds together.

“And now you have a perfect three people beddery !” Matt triumphantly declared. “Mello, you sleep in the middle.”

“Why am I in the middle ?” they protested. “It’s the least comfortable !”

“Oh well, we can take turns,” Near had snarked, knowing full well that the first one of them to sleep in the middle would have to accept defeat.

Mello does end up in the middle, Matt cuddled against their left side where the burn is, and Near an ever-closer presence against their right arm. It’s not as uncomfortable as they expected. Near doesn’t snore and he smells like minty toothpaste, a strangely comforting scent that lulls Mello to sleep way more easily than the five thousand melatonin pills they take before going to bed.

Oh well, maybe Lawliet can live a little longer. His boyfriend - Matt saw them kissing through the peephole, it’s official now - won’t have any (more) reasons to put Mello behind bars.

Near gets on top of International Law and keeps wearing strangely baggy clothes everywhere - or well, everywhere but in the dorms. Mello has time to get used to that mechanical knee, even asking a few questions about phantom pains on the days Matt is away and the itching gets unmanageable. Near is quiet like snow but they’re nothing alike in warmth, grey eyes like molten metal setting on Mello’s face and crinkling in a smile.

And it works wonders. One time they get a bad mark (for their standards) and they even study with Near for extra credit, a presentation about the death penalty that lasts about three quarters of the two hours class. The teacher gives them both full marks and Matt celebrates by crushing them both against his chest, the smell of motor oil and mint so comforting that Mello closes his eyes, just for a little while.

It’s winter before they have time to think about it, and finals go by in a blur of “no sleep, no food, no distractions”. They even manage to end up at the nurse’s office when they faint during the Criminology Theory exam, forced to drink sugar water until the world stops exploding in a million tiny stars when they move their head.

Mello thinks that surviving their last winter exam session ever - they should be able to find a job with a double Master’s degree in Criminology and Creative writing, right ? - deserves a celebratory nap and they sprawl on the bed as soon as they’re back from the last stupid oral presentation they have to do about stupid Foundations of Criminal Justice. Near is not in the room - which is weird, because he finished five minutes and thirty six seconds before them - and Matt is away for the day to try and get his internship at the garage, so they have the full three-person bed, and they fully intend to enjoy the luxury.

They enjoy it so much that they fall asleep, only noticing that time has passed because before they blinked, it was day, and it is now very much nighttime. Light giggles fill the room along with the muted light from Near’s bedside lamp, and Mello takes the time to relish in the quiet atmosphere. Hushed conversation rises from near the desk, giggles and the smell of hot chocolate both making Mello sit up at last.

“Lookit you ! Sleeping beauty arises. Though I haven’t kissed you yet,” Matt smiles, and he climbs on the bed to press his lips against Mello’s. “Love you,” he whispers as he pulls away and goes back to slump on Near’s shoulder.

At first, Near felt like an intruder each time Matt kissed them, but he’s become so embedded in their life that Mello doesn’t feel any awkwardness anymore - to the point where not including him has become the cause of their inner turmoil.

Because yeah, uh, there’s that. Near in a tank top and booty shorts, prosthetic being painted on by a very enthusiastic Matt, has become the new image they conjure up each time the need to strangle someone arises. And poof, instant peace. Discreet touches, Near sleeping fully cuddled against their right side now, Matt nosing through Near’s hair just after he’s washed it because his strawberry shampoo smells divine, Mello even going as far as ruffling Near’s hair without warning, just to see his little nose scrunch up… All that has become routine too, and suddenly the change is too big to go by unmentioned. 

They’ve managed to hold on to their feelings until then but as Matt starts talking again, Near’s smile is a little too tight - though his eyes sparkle, it’s like… something’s missing. 

“Emergency mee-ee-ting,” they yawn, the skin around their left eye crinkling up painfully. Near notices and doesn’t even ask before grabbing the petroleum jelly tube and throwing it rather inaccurately at their face. See, that’s what they were talking about, Near has just become… there, in the way Matt is there even when he’s asleep in another part of the universe where Mello can only hope to ever go to. “We gotta talk shit out.”

“Are you over your gay crisis yet ?” Matt asks, eyes calm and open, sipping hot chocolate with noisy slurps that Mello doesn’t bother mentioning anymore. His green hair looks more and more red as time passes, which is a strange feat of hair dye conspiracy. “Can we go back to playing ?”

“I haven’t even talked !” Mello protests. “I just really think it’s necessary to mention that…”

They don’t know how to continue that sentence. Near is looking at them with something strangely akin to hope, and Matt still has that infuriating openness about him like he just knows Mello so well he doesn’t need to be told what they feel. 

Near doesn’t, though, and he matters enough to Mello now for them to want to include him in the little bubble as well.

“I just think it’d be cool if we shared the secret chocolate stash with Near,” is what comes out of their mouth.

Well done caporal, please die of shame now.

“Mels, wow, that’s the most romantic thing you’ve ever said !” Matt’s voice drips with amusement - devoid of any mean spirit, they should add, because Matt is the one thing Mello knows is good in this world. And well, maybe there’s a second one they’ve stumbled on, and they want Near to know that he means a lot to them too.

“I mean it !” Mello whines. “He’s one of us now. I think we can share.”

“Mello. Please realise that I’ve been flirting with you this entire time,” comes Near’s deadpan answer. “The time I told you I wanted to braid your hair ? The time I made you sleep and finished the presentation alone because you’d gotten the flu and I hate being sneezed on ? The fact that Matt literally sits in my lap half the time, and only half because the other is spent on your lap ?”

“Okay, first of all, fuck off with me getting the flu.”

“You’re avoiding my question.” Near looks stubborn, and it’s a good look on him.

When did Mello start to think Near looks good ? “I, uh. I may be slightly romantically obtuse. Has Matt told you the time when-”

“-he kissed you and you thought he wanted to practice smooches for his secret best friend, because of course you wouldn’t be his best friend ?”

Utterly mortified, Mello can feel their cheeks become bright red. “Well, uh. Enough mushiness for tonight. Just pass me the chocolate, Matt, I’m starving.”

Matt giggles and throws a Kinder Egg at their face. Near munches on the leftover shell while Mello assembles the toy, and it’s peaceful - and happy, too, so when Mello raises a hand to their scar they smile still, in spite of their involuntary shiver.

[jungxk]

just one (vi)

notes: the only guy on campus who’s track record trumped that of your best friend’s - park jimin - was jeon jungkook. not that that was a problem…until he set his sights on you.

warnings: smut (f recieving), protected sex

genre: drama, romance, humour, college!au

wordcount: 5.3k

part i // part ii // part iii // part iv // part v // part vi // part vii // part viii // part ix // part x 

you watch sadly as you tip your case of empty paint tubes into the bin. they were your absolute favourite, a birthday gift from jimin almost two years ago. you had been so careful and stingy with them all this time to preserve as much as possible - at least to get you to the end of the semester - so it was disheartening to have to finally throw them out. oils were always your favourite. still, there wasn't much time for moping; if you were to get your next piece finished by the deadline you better start now because of the drying period between layers of watercolour.

"maybe jungkook has a hairdryer..." you mumble to yourself before padding over to his room. he's sitting at his tiny little work desk with his back to you when you peek over his shoulder. "kook, do you have a hairdryer?"

he points without removing his eyes from the screen. "the bottom drawer over there."

"thanks," you do a double take as you pass him with the appliance in tow, his eyes a little bloodshot and face twisted into what looks like terror. usually you couldn't so much as clean a paintbrush without jungkook all over you while you were at his place, but he barely spoke the whole afternoon. you take a tentative step towards him, because if he was anything like jimin when he's stressed he might get rabid. "you alright?"

"i dunno, am i?" he collapses back into the chair, threading his fingers through his hair which was getting wonderfully long. but the only thing you can pay attention to now are his panicked eyes and jittery knees. "i don't know what the fuck any of these numbers mean! why do i even need this for photography-"

"what is it?" you smooth your hand over his back, muscles stiff.

he deflates under your touch. "i agreed to peers taking questionnaires about my portfolio so far and i fucking regret it, noona. this stats software looks nothing like minecraft. i dont know what this all means. my prof said it'd help with cohesiveness - whatever that means - but he's off on one if he thinks this has done anything other than confuse me and ruin my life."

you try your best to hold back a smile, but jungkook is so cute when he's pouty and frustrated. "okay, well what are your variables?"

"my what? baby, i'm not in the mood right now-"

"no you dipshit, like," you gesture with your hands. "what are the things you're measuring? in the questionnaire?"

jungkook stares at you blankly. "i'm...what?"

you roll your eyes, grabbing the back of his chair to swivel him and plop onto his lap. "let me see."

jungkook has no idea what's going on, both because he doesn't know what you're talking about and also because you're covering the screen so he's spared of having to follow your clicking and tinkering. all he knows is that you fit nicely on his lap and that your bare thighs are warm on his, and it's much easier to focus on that anyway. especially since you aren't wearing underwear. after a few minutes he hooks his chin over your shoulder to at least try to keep up. "what are you doing, noona?"

"just cleaning up your dataset," you mumble. you finally perk up after a few more minutes. "oh, okay! so all you want to know is if the people who like the first half of your portfolio like the second half just as much, and whether that opinion affects the other? like a correlation, right?"

he sits up excitedly. "yeah! yeah, that's it," he stares at your profile in disbelief while you waste no time in running the analyses. "how do you know about this stuff, noona?"

"i did stats in my science major. the software i had back then, now that was a real pain in the ass. but this one isn't so bad," you reply absently while jungkook keeps staring at you like you're an angel that descended from the heavens especially for him. he has yet to believe otherwise. "hmm, you know i think you can skip all the sample level descriptives and cronbach's alpha scores and go straight to pearson's r if all you're looking for is a correlation. what would you prefer?"

he breathes in your hair; coconut, jasmine. his cologne. "you’re so sexy when i don’t understand what you’re saying."

x

x

x

jimin's face twists when he tests the contents of the pan. "can you tell me why this tastes like tae's dirty socks?"

“can you tell me why you know what tae’s dirty socks taste like?” you lean over the counter, swiping a finger over the ladle before bringing it to your mouth. you always used to cook for your family when you were younger, and although you had gone off it after what happened, you didn't mind when it was with jimin. with him, you didn't think about the memories of cutting onions with your father or grinding chillies with your mother and sister. it all felt new again, something that was never tarnished. which is why jimin is the only one you can stand to cook with even if he's unable to make anything but mojitos and a single pasta dish. "not enough garlic."

he squints at his phone while you manoeuvre him out of your way. "but it says two cloves in the recipe?"

"it's never two cloves," you take the knife and start to crush and peel more. "always start with four, maybe five."

"can't we just order takeout?" jimin pouts pathetically. he just washed his hair so its still damp, cheeks a rosy from the bathroom steam. you only wish his long line of hookups could see their ladies man now, bundled up in a powerpuff girls  sweater that he stole from you months ago.

"no," you pluck his phone from his hand before he can dial, replacing it with more cloves for him to peel. "you've been having takeout all week! all that oil can't be good for you, what's the point of sweating your tits off in that gym if you're just gonna eat shit?"

"i don't always eat shit!"

"jimin. we share a just eat email account. i know the chinese place isn't sending me customer loyalty codes," he rounds the stool where you're sat in the small place between your back and the wall, his palm skirting behind your waist to move you gently aside. "just let me see you eat a vegetable today, i'm begging. so if you keel over tomorrow from IBS i'll feel less guilty."

"alright alright," he huffs, rubbing at his puffy eyes with his sleeve before picking up the knife again. "i don't see what the big deal is, if i was breaking out then that'd be another issue but my body can clearly handle it. maybe it's like that episode of drake and josh where his body becomes accustomed to all the junk food he eats and-"

"please don't use drake and josh as a marker for your health."

"fine," and then without missing a beat, "but what about kenan and kel? all that orange soda and kel was totally fine. healthy even."

"physically, maybe. but did you see the screw in the tuna episode? don't tell me he didn't have inner demons that may or may not have been increased by an overly processed diet," you pause. "wait, am i the kenan in this friendship?"

"depends. i want to say you're the brains but i've also seen you try to open a can with a fork, so."

"hey! that wasn't my fault!" you exclaim, but jimin ignores you purposely. "taehyung told me you fucked yeri in the kitchen, how was i supposed to know what was and wasn't contaminated?"

"___, the fork was plastic."

"well what else would you have me do, starve?"

"what is this, the fucking famine? you said it yourself, we share a just eat email so the smart thing to do would be order. besides i dunno what makes you think i'd fuck a girl with a can opener in my vicinity anyway-"

"um, you're you," you chastise. "so i rest my case."

"then i'm definitely kenan," jimin laughs when you swat at him before your phone vibrates, one after another until it almost falls off the kitchen counter if you didn't grab it in time. you don't dare to unlock your phone when you see the contact name on the screen, too hyper-aware of jimin eyeing you over the chopping board. even he sees the gist of the messages jungkook sent you.

[jungkook 7:13pm] u left ur shirt here again noona

[jungkook 7:13pm] at this rate ur never gonna get it back are u :)

[jungkook 7:14pm] i'm free all day tomorrow

[jungkook 7:16pm] wanna come over?

[jungkook 7:16pm] i still haven't washed it btw so

[jungkook 7:17pm] we can do laundry together :))

[jungkook 7:18pm] or maybe later tonight ? i can pick u up ?

you don't even get a good read of the messages - all those smiley faces gave you enough of an idea. it wasn't a surprise or anything, but you still switch your phone to do not disturb and leave it face down on the counter like you have something to hide. which you don't. so why did it feel so wrong? so disrespectful, here in jimin's kitchen? you gnaw at your cheek.

jimin has his back to you so thankfully you're spared of having to gage his expression. he's probably sent a million thirsty texts so he knows what they look like, knows that he shouldn't be surprised. still, he shifts from foot to foot uneasily. the only thing that makes him stop is you leaning wordlessly over him to lower the stove to a simmer, turning the tap on to wash some rice and hum quietly. here was jeon jungkook, arguably the biggest stud on campus blowing up your phone on a friday night but nothing felt different. you'd always choose him and jimin knew that.

"what do you think of egg fried rice?" you ask over your shoulder. "i haven't made it in ages. the one with the veggies?"

jimin smiles. "i love that one,"

x

x

x

"he's not back yet?" you ask when yoongi lets you into the flat, shoulders deflating childishly. he gives you a lazy shake of his head before nudging you to the sofa to take up your usual spot on the matted cushion in the corner, kicking your shoes away and sitting cross legged. yoongi and namjoon's flat was only round the corner from jungkook's, a worn down little two-bed that smelled rather questionable at times, but it quickly became a familiar place. a safe place. especially because of how often you'd come over while jungkook was running late at class or the gym or photo-hunting. coming to terms with the fact that you were sleeping with jungkook wasn't that hard, but being friends with his friends was.

"it's leg day. you know how jungkookie feels about his chicken calves," yoongi says before flopping down next to you. namjoon was tucked into the other side with a book, effectively squishing you into yoongi with his big shoulders. if jungkook was here he'd pout about having nowhere to sit and the thought only makes you more pleased. "he'd be there until sundown if you weren't waiting for him."

"are you sure you're one to talk about chicken legs?" you reach to tickle yoongi's knees and he barely manages to flinch away in time.

"i love my chicken legs the way they are, thanks. can't say the same for your boyfriend though."

you freeze. "i told you to stop saying that, yoongi. you know he hates the b word. one more slip up and you won't ever see me here again. last time he avoided me for two weeks!"

"never see you again? doubt it. your hair clogged the shower drain yesterday so you pretty much owe rent at this point," yoongi keeps flicking through the channels on the television. "besides, i know what a man with a monkey on his back looks like. kookie just doesn't like being reminded of it because unfortunately for him there's no rehab to quit you."

a rush of blood goes straight to your cheeks. yoongi loves to tease you and you know that, second only to jungkook who actually does get off to it, but you still tap nervously on the carpet with your toes while desperately hoping for namjoon to step into the conversation with a weird conspiracy theory or black hole fact he read on an astronomy blog. anything to dig you out of this metaphorical hole you and jungkook are hellbent on ignoring. yoongi sees the way you curl in on yourself slightly, a sensible and collected flower like you reduced to a fidgety school girl. it's cute.

"hyung," namjoon says with his eyes still glued to his book. "stop winding her up or her face'll explode and then jiminie will come for your throat."

yoongi scoffs. "and? what's that short-ass gonna do, cry on me to death?"

"you're like two inches taller than him."

"two and a half, actually."

"so he really was a crybaby?" you scoot to fold your legs under you. "jungkook told me before but i didn't believe him! i've tried everything but i can never get a reaction out of jimin...i mean, if horny isn't an emotion."

"oh yeah, totally," namjoon puts an arm on the back on the back of the sofa behind you when he looks up. his silver hair brings out the beautifully rich undertone of his skin and it's difficult not to stare, being so close. "if the patriarchy hadn't fucked him up he'd be a real tree hugger, i'm sure of it. but the last time i saw him cry was...hmm..."

"five years ago," yoongi chimes. "when jungkookie got caught."

"ooooh yeah," namjoon nods. "but jimin and jungkook were super close back then. he was so protective of him, waited in the custody office for hours until they finally-"

"wait," you look between them. "caught? what do you mean?"

the boys exchange a glance between them. it's not like you didn't know that yoongi sells weed and often with namjoon's help. in fact, they often told you about their wild stories and close calls. but they had never mentioned jungkook being involved with any of that stuff, and neither had he. you always just assumed that he'd kept his head out of it, being a college student and all but yoongi's shrugging and namjoon's pursed lips tell you otherwise.

"jungkook got charged with possession as a minor," yoongi says. "i mean, seventeen but still. too baby-faced."

"jungkook sold for you?" you repeat, not quite believing your ears. he had always been the better off out of his friends that often did shadier things, but the more you got to know him the more you felt like the jungkook you heard about and the jungkook you knew were two different boys. it really shouldn't have come as a surprise, since he had practically grown up with yoongi, namjoon and jimin. his hyungs were his family and he'd do anything for them, there was really no reason he wouldn't take up their trade.

"oh yeah, almost a year. he was good at it too," namjoon laughs. "our kookie's good at everything if you give him enough chances."

"so what happened?" you press. "does he...does he still sell?"

"are you kidding? we got him out of all that shit the second he stepped out the office," yoongi rubs the back of his neck. "jungkook isn't like us. he's a good kid with a lot of talent and he didn't need to be doing all that you know? we convinced him to go to school instead but even then, jimin made us swear to look out for him because he left earlier than kookie."

"wow, jimin really hasn't changed," you lean back. "in like, taking care of people i mean. so is that when jungkook got into photography? he did talk about getting his first camera when he was like eighteen or something..."

namjoon nods happily in recollection. "yup! we were so proud when jungkook got accepted into university, especially after jimin and hobi. people from our town don't usually pursue higher education-"

"especially with kookie's record," yoongi laughs.

"why?" you blink at him.

"the weed was one thing, but jungkook also got a strike for violence."

namjoon winces. "hyung, he's gonna throw a tantrum if you tell her..."

"i don't care. she's fucking him, she has a right to know," yoongi retorts evenly, dark eyes swivelling to meet yours. his light hair is matted from under his beanie, barely missing his lashes. "a few years ago jungkook beat a guy so bad he had to go into emergency. it was pretty gross. broken nose, missing teeth, you name it. he's been on thin ice since but he doesn't act like it."

you take a second to digest the information. "do you...do you know why?" you waver, unable to keep the horror from your voice. "knocking a guy's teeth out? people don't just do that!"

"kookie did," namjoon sighs.

"but why? it's so...i just can't imagine jungkook doing something like that..."

"something like what?"

your head snaps to the doorway where jungkook can be seen only partially when he bends over to unlace his shoes, namjoon and yoongi simultaneously pinching your legs to wipe the wide-eyed look off your face. it was one of the many times when wearing your heart on your sleeve did not do you any favours. you just about manage to look normal enough within the half a second it takes for jungkook to come in, hair mussed from his post-gym shower and tee wrinkled from being stuffed into the bottom of his bag. his eyes look extra big today, nose and knuckles blushed pink from all the lifting. he couldn't look farther from the violent offender yoongi and namjoon described. in fact, the sudden urge to kiss him hello was near suffocating.

"i was telling her about the time you wore hyung's underwear for two weeks," namjoon explains, years of lying paying off with how smoothly he returns to his book.

"what!" yoongi splutters. "are you kidding?! a whole week, jungkook that's disgusting-"

the younger boy winces. "not the same pair!"

"wait. you took more than one?!"

"um..."

"how many. tell me right now you little shit."

"i promise they were clean!" jungkook says defensively, but his buck teeth show in a defensive little grin. it's impossible to be mad at him. "my washing machine broke, remember? and i never have change so i didn't go to the laundrette's and-"

"which ones?" yoongi's voice becomes obnoxiously loud with dismay. "tell me right now so can go upstairs and burn them. jesus jungkook you could have at least asked me, now i have to live with the knowledge that your bollocks is acquainted with mine until i die-"

"hyung they were clean," jungkook insists. "and if i asked i knew you wouldn't have let me borrow them!"

"yeah because it's gross! why didn't you just take joonie's?"

"i did. but he caught me and told me to take yours instead."

you just about manage to insert yourself between yoongi before he can grab a fistful of namjoon's hair while jungkook throws back his head in a loud cackle.

x

x

x

[jimin 7:58pm] you dont mind do u?

it's hard not to roll your eyes at his message, momentarily leaving your phone on the bed while you unclasp your bra. it wasn't the first time jimin had bailed on you last minute because of some girl he'd picked up for longer than expected. you're just thankful that this time he had the courtesy to tell you before you got to his house and burst into his bedroom without knocking only to see areas of your best friend you really did not need to see. even though you shudder at the memories - yes, plural - the sinking feeling of disappointment can't be masked. it's movie night.

[you 8:01pm] yh its fine

[you 8:02pm] but u owe me one i put on a bra for you asshole

[jimin 8:04pm] ofc babe

[jimin 8:04] just skip it next time :)

you snort before locking your phone and throwing it on the bed, padding over the room in your knickers to select some sleeping shorts off the floor. jisoo went home for a family birthday and seulgi had a deadline for monday, so it was safe to say you were alone for the weekend. you were used to being alone but you didn't like it; it was the reason why you'd always trudge to jimin's if the girls weren't home or even yoongi and namjoon's, even if it was just to take a nap on their sofa. you needed the noise, the background bickering. that's why there's only so much paint brush washing and kitchen cleaning you can do before reaching for your phone and messaging jungkook.

or at least that's what you tell yourself when he's in your bed within the hour, head resting on your stomach and his leg thrown over your ankles. you trace along the tattoo on his bicep closest to you, admiring the cohesiveness and line placement while jungkook dozes off, like he often does after sex. he's had a long week so you let him sleep, hair sticking up and mouth open like a toddler, so impossibly cute you can't help combing through his nape. jungkook doesn't often spend the night at yours so this was a rarity, and you had to admit he did look a little out of place in your tiny little room. he was far too big for your bed, one foot already hanging off, clothes and jacket hurled into the corner with only cheap fairy lights to rely on so you don't go tripping over his shoes at the door.

you could draw him like this. jungkook's eyelashes are short and pin-straight, eyebrows angled and distinctive. quick, sharp pencil strokes. he's got the faintest shadow above his top lip from where didn't have time to shave today. you'd use charcoal for his hair, black with a slight wave. a swooping curve for his nose, a more gentle line for his jaw. he looks harmless like this: not at all resembling the boy yoongi described.

"why are you so quiet, noona?" he grumbles into the duvet, eyes still closed. "you should be snoring my ears off by now."

you pout. "i'm too busy wondering how i'm gonna get your river of drool out of my pillow."

he snorts. "throw your sheets in on a fast cycle and voila."

"what fast cycle? i just press every button on the machine until it starts."

he opens his eyes. "you're an animal."

you laugh, tugging on the roots of his hair where your hand is still nestled inside. "how do you know so much about washing machines anyway?"

"my mum worked a lot growing up," jungkook yawns. "hyung did the cooking and i did the laundry."

you freeze. "you have a brother?"

"i swear i told you that," he scoots across your stomach, taking the pillow with him to position it over your hip so he can look at you properly. his eyes look glassy in the lights, lids hooded and hair pushed back. a real dreamboat wrapped in a hello kitty duvet. "two years older, same as jimin."

"no wonder jimin cares about you so much," you keep playing with his hair, watching his eyes droop closed. "he may as well be your brother." jungkook hums in reply, growing more and more drowsy from all the petting. "so...how come your mum worked so much?"

his eyes open to look at you, hesitating. "dad left when we were young. she didn't really have a choice."

"i didn't know that jungkook..." you pause. "that must have been hard."

he rolls to face the ceiling, like he's thinking twice before he answers. "not really. eomma's a badass, there's nothing she can't handle. yeah money and stuff wasn't easy, and it sucked when i was younger and didn't understand why hyung and eomma were so upset after what happened, but it's whatever. the three of us are so good together, you know? i like it like this."

you nod. because you do know. or, did. you wonder now if that's the reason jungkook got involved with yoongi and namjoon in the first place, to help out his family, but even you know some questions are better left unasked. instead, you chip away at jungkook while you can, since you know barely anything about him beyond student life and his friends. who knows when he would be in the mood to open up again. "so what does your brother do?"

"an accountant. for some fancy law firm in the city," he smiles. "hyung is super smart. like you."

you laugh. "you know i didn't finish my first major, right?"

"by choice. not because you weren't capable," he finishes, and to that you have no choice but to shut up. no one had ever put it that way before. "he's super quiet like you too, keeps to himself. gives really good advice. oh my god, and his kimchi pork stew - amazing!" his teeth gleam take up his whole mouth when he smiles, lines creasing around his eyes. "so many times when me and mum would argue, hyung was the reason why we'd stop. guess i got her temper."

you watch him closely. "you argued often?"

"at one point, yeah. not because we didn't like each other or anything, just..." you can see him hesitating again, cheek sucked in from where he chews it while staring up at the ceiling as if the memories are playing back at him on a projector. you keep quiet, let him get there on his own. "mum went through a phase where she dated a lot. felt bad that neither of us had a father figure and all that bullshit. she brought home some real dickheads, some top tier cunts i'm telling you. and i...wasn't exactly nice to them. ever since then i just hate seeing girls be pushed around by assholes, you know? it does something to me, i dunno. here," he lays a hand over his stomach. "i can't just watch. i can't. it's like i'm gonna be sick."

it's hard not to cry listening to him, seeing the lines in his forehead appear along with the crinkle above his nose. it made sense now, what yoongi told you about before. thinking back to the whole escapade with jinyoung in your kitchen, the whole thing hit you differently.

jungkook was exactly the kind of boy your old family would have frowned upon, reckless and thoughtless and emotionally-driven in the face of adversity. absolutely everything you were taught not to be. but you admired him for those very reasons. before you can start crying you sit up, silencing jungkook with a kiss before he can ask you what's wrong. it's firm and deliberate, your hands holding both his cheeks. he's breathless. "you seriously fucking worry me, slick."

"oh?" his eyes stay focused on your lips while he moves to you, positions you underneath him on the foot of the bed, pulling your thighs around his hips so you gasp at the feel of his semi on your soft inner thigh. he dips his head to kiss along your sternum, hand ghosting over your breasts before closing his mouth around your nipple.

"i nev-never know what you're gonna do next," you exhale shakily, arching into him involuntarily at the sensation. jungkook takes the opportunity to rub the pads of his fingers against your cunt, using the remnants of your arousal to help you along. sure enough you accept his fingers greedily, but he takes his time in stretching you out and easing in further, further.

his thumb gently passes over your clit and you shake. "never? not even now?"

you have to forcibly yank his face away from your tits to kiss him, slowly and with passion. his skin grows damp under your hands, muscles rippling under your touch from where he holds himself up on his forearms. he likes feeling the softness of your tummy against his, your thick thighs cushioning him snugly against you. just like always, it's torture having to pull away from you for a brief second to grab a condom, but the familiar chuckle you breathe out to see him speed back into your arms almost makes it worth it. you take the packet from him, about to tear it open before he grabs your hand with a cheeky smile. "in a minute."

before you can question him about it you yelp he tugs you by the hips, sliding up to angle your ass so your knees have no choice but to hook over his shoulders. jungkook's arms wind around the top of your thighs, thick and secure, nails scraping gently through your coarse curls before he pulls your legs apart as wide as they'll go and lowers his mouth onto you. the noise you make is just as embarrassing as always, so loud and uncontrollable, hysterical even. you've gotten used to being jungkook's fourth, fifth and sixth meal of the day but he steals your breath away every time, leaves you squirming and trembling and this instance was no exception. today he was feeling indulgent so he eats you out messily, makes sure he's loud enough for you hear every squelch and slurp. you physically shake when he sucks a gently kiss to your clit, proud of yourself for not screaming. jungkook, however, isn't happy about that and keeps sucking until you do. harder, harder, and then filling you up with his fingers so you have something to clench around when you cum all over him in a rush.

your back is still off the bed when he reaches your eye level again, the family sound of the foil wrapper ripping from the condom packet making you lift your head up to look at him. he's already rolling it down his length when he peer downwards, and even though you only get a glimpse of his blushing head he's sticky and hot with pre-cum. you wiggle in anticipation and jungkook laughs at your cuteness before leaning back down, taking your hands in his for a change. he can see the appeal, interlocking your fingers with his palms against yours and using only his hips as leverage to push into your sopping center, letting you move against him so he's lodged in as deep as he can fit before he starts rocking into you.

your moans are his favourite song, maybe that's why he wants to listen to them all day. he'd like to make you cum again but it's difficult for him once his hips start stuttering uncontrollably, no matter how much he tries to slow his pace. you let go of his hands then to take his face, his eyes closed when he feels you press your smooth lips to his cheekbone; an encouraging kiss. a go on, i want you to kiss. the moan he let's out before giving in is fragile and wispy, nose digging into your neck while he ruts against you to his end. you clench around him harder just to hear jungkook whimper again, pliant and weak in your arms. all of a sudden, out of nowhere you wish you could feel the rush of his cream spilling from you when he pulls out to discard the condom. he nestles back into your breasts afterwards, smelling himself on your skin. 

jungkook falls asleep smiling.

[freebooter4ever]

Here is the request, a beautiful heartwarming rendition of Eugene Sledge losing his virginity to Snafu, but set in the AU where Snaf and Sledge met before the war in Mobile while Snaf was working on the docks. Now, two years later they meet again on Pavuvu with Snaf a war-torn experienced marine and new replacement Sledge still very adorable and naive, and after after some brief hostility due to Snaf being an emotionally constipated dumbass, they work out their issues and have some fun. Thanks to @lieblinggs who really wanted to see them meet during the war in this AU and encouraged me.

Apologies in advance, I tried, I’m not sexy, my specialty is fluff and humor you guys....this is the last time anyone’s gonna ask me to write smut ever again lol. The secondhand embarrassment might be Hard with this one.

 Snafu is a ghost after Gloucester. The rain washed away all traces of his personality entirely and left him with very little to work with. He spends his days on Pavuvu avoiding doing anything, and he watches the slow progress of the healing sores on his skin like it's the final lap of the Indy 500.

He doesn't think about the future, all he knows at camp is warmth, his soft pillow, and the food he gets three times a day. After weeks of exhaustion, aches, and cold, he is finally comfortable. There's nothing much else on his mind besides that. 

Then Eugene Sledge walks into his tent.

Eugene Sledge arrives on a ship, and with the ship comes the daily mail bags, and in the mail comes a newspaper clipping from Snafu's home town. As if one helping of guilt wasn't enough and he needs another to balance it. The article from home, delivered minutes before Eugene walked back into his life, only brings half-guilt though. It says nothing of Mairzy, who is probably still safe in Mobile. And instead says everything about Snafu. And his heroism on Gloucester.

That brings a little bit of pride which eases the sting of the guilt over leaving his sister behind.

He tries to focus on the letter and the newspaper clipping instead of the boy standing in his tent, with his crooked helmet hanging off his ginger hair. After Gloucester, Snafu can barely focus on anything at all. The five minutes when Eugene tries to claim a bunk in their tent is an outlier. Snafu's entire reason for being narrows in focus, and it becomes imperative that Eugene not live in the same space. He needs to convince Burgie of this, though Burgie unquestioningly plays along with the disdain Snafu started easily enough.

It's been two years since he saw Eugene Sledge. They did not part well. Snafu isn't so good with goodbyes.

"Understatement," Sledge mutters in the chow line behind Snafu later that day.

Snafu had just got done explaining all this history to Burgie while they waited for their flood, and Snafu hadn't even noticed Eugene was there, eavesdropping on them. Snafu's constant state of physical awareness must be slipping within the relative safety of Pavuvu.

Burgie takes one look at Sledge, and one look at Snafu. "I don't know what this is about and I don't care, but please make sure I still have an entire squad standing and in fighting fit by the end of it," he warns. And with that he collects his food and makes a run for it, leaving Snafu to face the music on his own.

Snafu turns around, and meets Eugene's eyes, and sees blank emptiness. Eugene isn't even angry. Snafu had hoped Eugene would be angry. That he would hate Snafu to the ends of the earth. 

Neither of them say anything. They just engage in a silent stare down until someone behind them in line asks what's the hold up. Eugene turns around to apologize and Snafu ducks underneath the serving table and disappears behind the mess tent.

Snafu is in danger of saying something stupid. He can sense it, bubbling up in him like alka-seltzer in coke. One look in Eugene's damn eyes and he's falling in love all over again.

In retaliation for Eugene sneaking up on him, Snafu finds the skipper who always invents the worst work duties. Sure enough all it takes is some idle chitchat to convince the skipper that now is the time to clean out the oil barrels. Snafu offers to oversee the work, and suggests a couple new Boots to assign the task to, and the rest is history.

Eugene gets angry at him then. He glares prettily at Snafu from underneath his elbow while scrubbing drums. There's something else burning beneath that anger. Snafu can sense it in the way Eugene's gaze lingers on the movement of Snafu's hips - in how sometimes Snafu turns around only to catch Eugene looking away.

Otherwise Snafu avoids Sledge like the plague.

He does a pretty good job of it. Until the day Sledge disappears.

As Snafu walks by a tent he overhears one of the officers complaining that Sledge hasn't been seen since lunch. Apparently the boy skipped out on dinner and coconut detail. Which is an understandable thing to skip - nobody willingly subjects themselves to the smell and texture of rotten coconuts. Sledge's disappearance makes sense. Unless one knows Sledge, and knows he would never shirk duty no matter how unpleasant.

Snafu also knows something else the officer didn't consider and maybe Sledge didn't even know - certain members of How company were scheduled to rotate home this morning. As far as Snafu knew, their ship already left dock. So it doesn't take much to guess where Eugene might be.

He finds Eugene sitting on an empty cot in Phillip's old tent. Eugene is holding a book in his hands but he isn't reading it. His head hangs between his shoulders in defeat. He doesn't acknowledge Snafu when Snafu steps into the tent, even though Snafu's shadow falls over him with the harsh evening light so low in the sky.

Snafu hesitates to enter so he hovers in the doorway. There is a second cot across the room. But there is also a little sliver of space next to Eugene on the first cot that Snafu knows he could squeeze his butt onto if he tried.

"Left alone again?" Snafu asks. He tries to sound sympathetic.

Eugene looks up. He clearly did not expect the person in the doorway to be Snafu. And - oh! - Eugene's eyes are full of hope. Snafu makes his decision. He crosses the room and sits next to Eugene. They're so close there isn't an inch of space between them.

Snafu turns his head and rests his nose on Eugene's shoulder. He closes his eyes, and breathes.

He missed how Eugene smelled

"You'd think I'd be used to being the type to be left behind by now," Eugene gripes.

Snafu snorts. "It ain't you," he mumbles into Eugene's shoulder, "It's us. We're just dicks."

"Sidney is not a dick."

"But I am?"

"Jury's still out on that one"

Snafu grins. He turns his hips in towards Eugene so he can wrap his arms around his waist and press closer in a sort of half hug. "Guess it's a good thing you're fond of my dick, then." He kisses Eugene's neck, "You certainly felt me up enough times. Remember the day under the bridge by your house?"

Eugene sighs in exasperation and tilts his head back, "God, Merriell."

"Jury out on that one too? Cause if you need me to jog your memory…"

"Why didn't you say goodbye?" Eugene interrupts, "Why did I wake up one morning to find your house empty and Mairzy alone?"

Snafu holds Eugene and thinks about that one for a bit. He finally surmises, "You would have asked why I was enlisting."

"Why were you enlisting?" Eugene asks.

"For you," Snafu admits. He turns his face in towards Eugene's neck. Takes another deep breath. If he doesn't face Eugene, Snafu can pretend the man next to him is still the same boy who skipped class every day to bicycle down to the docks where Snafu worked, and kiss him behind the pilings.

"I would have stopped you," Eugene says.

"I know."

They sit in silence for another beat, and then Eugene asks a second question, "You fought in the same battle on Gloucester, you must have some insight. Why didn't Sid tell me goodbye?"

Snafu takes a deep breath and debates giving Eugene the real answer. 

He doesn't think you're going to live. Keeping attachments is a hazard here.

"If you were at those same battles," Snafu concludes quietly, "You'd realize there's no room for thought, and no insight to be had."

Eugene nods, "Guess I'll learn." He sounds scared.

Snafu tightens his hold around Eugene's waist.

During another long silence Snafu works up the courage to ask a question he's been wondering for two years.

"Did you love him?"

The question seems to genuinely startle Eugene. And then the dots connect. "Sid?" Eugene asks, "Of course I loved him. He's my best and oldest friend in the whole world."

It's Snafu's turn to nod, resigned. He rests his forehead on Eugene's back.

"But also…" Eugene says quietly, "No. I didn't love him like I loved you. God Mer, I never loved anyone like I loved you."

Snafu sits up so he can look Eugene in the eye, "You loved me?"

"Yes," Eugene says, smiling back, "Not that you gave me much chance to."

Snafu grins.

"What about you?" Eugene asks, "Still carrying a torch for me or did you find some girl in Melbourne too?"

Snafu leans back, his smile widens, "Who said anything about girls?"

"Sid slept with some woman in Australia," Eugene says.

"You jealous?" Snafu asks.

Eugene ignores him. "Sid claims war is the opposite of that...the opposite of sex, he means. I guess. I wouldn't know anything about either," Eugene says. He sounds grumpy.

Snafu laughs, "Sex ain't all it's cracked up to be."

"You're saying it should be closer on the scale to war?"

"No, I'm saying some parts are great but there's a lot of bullshit that goes with it," Snafu explains, "I wouldn't use it as a benchmark."

"Did you sleep with someone in Melbourne?" 

"I'm not a virgin, Eugene. Not now; not in melbourne; nor was I two years ago when I met you."

Eugene abruptly stands up from the cot. He wipes his hands on his pants. His palms are red and Snafu bets if he touches them, they'd be hot.

Snafu leans back on the cot and surveys Eugene.

"So what part's the bullshit, then?" Eugene demands, "In sex?"

Snafu shrugs nonchalantly, "You try growing up queer in New Orleans where the only men who'll fuck you are the older ones who insist you keep silent about it. Who treat you like the dirt you live in."

"Men who were ashamed of you?" Eugene asks, "Like you accused me of being?"

"Ashamed of me and of themselves," Snafu replies, "Don't care about anyone's pleasure except their own. Can make sex real unpleasant sometimes. And once it gets associated with pain, real hard to seperate it."

"Mer, why would you…?"

"Better than nothing. When you're alone," Snafu kicks his legs onto the cot and lies down with his hands behind his head, "Don't deserve better anyway. I can take the bullshit." He looks at the tent canvas and listens to the sound of the rainstorm pounding hard on the roof.

He can't see Eugene but Eugene doesn't stop watching him.

"So what's at your other end then?" Eugene asks, "For you, what is opposite war on the spectrum of human experience?"

Snafu contemplates quietly for a few minutes and then says, "Do you remember that night I got so drunk that you hunted me down, found me, took me home, and let me sleep in your bed? And you went to school and I stayed under your covers all day? And I didn't have to get up for nothing except to have food served at my door. Just laid in bed for hours and read all your journals."

"You read my journals?" Eugene says incredulously.

"They were enlightening," Snafu turns his head and lifts his chin to smirk at him.

"They were at least ninety percent about botany," Eugene protests, "Completely boring."

"And the other ten percent provided detailed descriptions of every handsome man who ever walked into your life," Snafu claims.

"Sometimes it's easier to describe what I see with words than draw," Eugene says defensively.

"Anyway," Snafu continues and looks back at the ceiling, "I laid around reading your horny thorny journals till you came home. And you crawled into bed with me. And you held me and kissed me. And introduced me to your parents. And they liked me, though I think they liked Mairzy better." He sighs and closes his eyes. He can still smell Eugene's room from that day. "That memory is what's on the other end," Snafu tells him.

"Mer…"

"Ain't ever loved anybody like I loved you," Snafu throws Eugene's own words back at him and smiles.

In a rush, Eugene bends down, grabs the lapels of Snafu's shirt, and kisses him passionately. Snafu barely has time to react. 

"Shit, I forgot. " Too soon Eugene switches gears, wrenches his face away, and drops Snafu like a live grenade. Eugene lunges towards the tent door and knocks it shut. He peers through the mosquito netting before covering it with the canvas flap.

Snafu laughs. "Nobody's gonna be out in this storm. Nothing to be worried about," he says. He lolls his head back and resists rolling his eyes.

"Yeah and who knows how long the rain's gonna last," Eugene says as he unrolls the canvas covers of all the tent windows.

"It's gonna get hot in here if you do that," Snafu points out.

"Do you want to be court martialed?" Eugene asks.

"Depends," Snafu says, "What exactly will we be getting up to in here to merit it? Will it be worth my while?" He waggles his eyebrows.

Eugene finishes the last tent flap, steps over the debris and trash on the floor, and makes his way back to the cot to stand in front of Snafu.

"Before I go to war, I want to know what the other end of the spectrum is like," Eugene announces. He carefully places his hands on Snafu's shoulders, and then straddles his lap.

Snafu sits up, slides his hands over Eugene's hips and along his back.

"Besides, you've been teasing me since the minute I got here," Eugene accuses, "Time to follow through."

Snafu huffs.

"Are you telling me the oil barrels wasn't your idea?" Eugene asks, "And staying to watch me sweat? That was all on you."

"Ain't denying it," Snafu says, leaning in close, his eyes on Eugene's lips.

"So shut up and kiss me, then," Eugene says.

Every single bit of Snafu wants to. He runs his hands around to feel the flat of Eugene's stomach, no longer soft after all that bootcamp training. Slowly Snafu rucks Eugene's shirt up over his head. It gets tossed to the extra cot behind them.

Snafu keeps Eugene in his lap with a steadying hand on the small of his back. With his free hand he lifts the dog tags hanging around Eugene's neck.

"You got what you wanted," Snafu says. He runs his fingers over the name. First Marines. Bondurant.

Eugene smiles thinly and shakes his head, "You're a little behind on your intel." His hand closes around Snafu's hand holding the dog tags. He gently takes them away and swings the chain over his shoulder. "This is what I wanted," Eugene whispers right before he cradles Snafu's face and kisses him.

Snafu kisses back. He kisses back hard enough to drown out all his conflicted thoughts. If Eugene wants this, he can give it to him. And it feels good. He can add this to his list of comfort - warmth, sleep, food, and the feel of Eugene moving in his lap, Eugene's lips on his neck, Eugene's hands in his hair.

Oddly enough it's Eugene who breaks the kiss. Snafu moans as Eugene pulls away and climbs off Snafu's lap. Snafu tries to follow but he doesn't get far. Eugene gently places a hand on his shoulder to stop him. And then steps back.

Snafu watches as Eugene's hands undo his own belt and then the button of his dungarees. Eugene drops the pants to the ground and steps on them to pull them off his feet. He dips his fingers into the waistband of his underwear and slides them along the hem, looking nervous.

"We can stop," Snafu reassures him, "Or you can keep those on and go right back to kissing me. Don't gotta go any further than that."

Eugene silently thumbs the waistband and in one swoop, shoves them to the ground. When he tries to get his feet out of his clothes this time, he stumbles, and Snafu has to catch him before he falls over.

It's the first time Snafu touches Eugene's bare butt. And he can't help but giggle a little.

Eugene smiles too. He stands in front of Snafu and fidgets shyly. Snafu grabs Eugene's bouncing hand and tugs him closer. Closer till Snafu's nose bumps against Eugene's stomach.

"This ok?" Snafu asks. He tilts his head back to look at Eugene while he runs his hand up the inside of Eugene's thigh.

Eugene nods enthusiastically and mutters something under his breath.

"Sorry, couldn't hear that?" Snafu grins. He switches to touching Eugene's other leg - up the thigh and around his butt. Eugene's still got a death grip going on Snafu's right hand.

"Yes, Mer, it's more than okay. I thought you were old hat at this, do I have to spell it out for you or…? Oh!" Eugene shudders into silence.

Snafu's throat is unusually dry whether from anticipation or - dare he say it - nerves. Snafu has to swallow and lick his lips a few times to get everything to go smooth. He's never been nervous going down on someone before, but Eugene is...Eugene. Snafu wants this first time to be as perfect as Gene himself. 

Eugene, for his part, is watching Snafu with heavy lidded awe and looking as if he's about to faint. He groans and starts to sag where he stands.

Snafu pulls off. He gets up and puts his arms around Eugene to stabilize him. "Why don't you lie down?" he suggests.

Instead Eugene kisses him. He grips Snafu's hips, brings them both together, and kisses him desperately until neither of them can breathe.

"Gene…" Snafu smiles, "Gene, lie down. I'll take care of you."

Eugene doesn't listen. He tugs Snafu's shirt off and makes quick work of the button on Snafu's dungarees. Snafu stumbles with his pants around his ankles and Eugene actually fucking lifts Snafu off the ground by his waist so he can kick his legs free.

"Eugene…!" Snafu almost laughs.

"I won't drop you," Eugene promises, still holding him tight. He gets an arm underneath Snafu's ass and hefts him higher.

They kiss again, with Snafu suspended in the air, naked against Gene's body like some dramatic movie ending where the music swells and everything fades to black. 

If this was a movie, they could skip all the ugly parts and he and Gene could go home.

"Lie down, let me take care of you," Snafu repeats. He pulls away from their kiss and stares into Gene's pretty dark eyes and waits for him to listen. Eugene has a habit of giving way to Snafu's expertise.

Sure enough, Eugene reluctantly releases his hold on Snafu and stretches out on the cot. His hands immediately reattach themselves to Snafu's hips when Snafu straddles him. Eugene looks calm and his unfaltering trust is a lot of responsibility laid on Snafu's narrow shoulders.

It takes a minute to line everything up properly. When Snafu sinks down onto Eugene's lap, he screws his eyes shut from the pain, but he hears Gene moan in pleasure. Snafu breathes through it, and keeps going. Till Gene's warm hands interrupt by sliding gently around his waist. Eugene sits up and refuses to let Snafu sink down on him again, holding his body still.

"Mer, are you alright?" Eugene asks.

"'M fine," Snafu mumbles, "Just takes a bit to loosen up. Not a lot to work with here on Pavuvu. Let me go."

"You looked like you were in pain."

"A good kind.."

"No! Merriell...just...stop…I refuse to hurt you" Eugene kisses him tenderly.

Snafu squirms. "Hold on…" Snafu crawls off Gene's lap and staggers to his feet, feeling a little off balance, "You said this was How Company's bunk right?"

"Yeah?" Eugene says, confused.

"Had a buddy in here," Snafu says. He wanders around the tent, kicking at trash and opening boxes, "He might'a left something…"

"A buddy?" Eugene sounds unimpressed.

"Do you want to fuck me or not?" Snafu asks, lifting a small container triumphantly. He tosses it to Eugene who unscrews the lid and looks inside.

"I do," Eugene says.

"Then don't ask about buddys," Snafu replies, "None of them matter. Haven't been with anybody since Gloucester anyway."

"I guess I should be grateful you know what you're doing," Eugene says, handing him the container.

The container is mostly empty, but there's enough to make things slide easy. This time Eugene rolls Snafu over onto his back and settles between his legs. He fucks Snafu slowly, watching his face for the first long while, as if making sure Snafu isn't hiding pain from him again. And oh boy does it feel good now, in a leisurely, drawn out, intense kinda way. Snafu enjoys every minute of it. 

To his surprise. 

It used to be the opposite. With the other guys it was usually quick. The faster he gets this part over, the faster he can jerk himself off and be done with it. But Eugene keeps hitting parts inside him that Snafu did not even know existed. Fuck reading journals, Snafu wants to do this for hours in Eugene's bed instead. Luckily Eugene is in no rush. 

He seems more focused on kissing Snafu than getting off. At one point Gene slips out and he hardly notices, too busy sucking on his face. It's up to Snafu, grinning stupidly, to break the kiss briefly and line him up again.

Snafu hasn't been this sensitive around his ass for ages. All it takes is for Eugene to push up against him even lightly and Snafu is goddamn writhing underneath him. It's ridiculous. Normally he keeps a safe disconnect between that general area and his brain.

But - oh!

Fuck.

Eugene is turning that disconnect into a thing of the past.

Snafu thinks he must have moaned or something because Eugene pauses briefly and holds himself over Snafu, smiling goofily.

"Why'd you stop?" Snafu pants.

"Wanted to watch you," Eugene grins back.

"Fuck, Eugene," Snafu complains, drawing Eugene's name out in a groan, his legs still moving even though Eugene is doing nothing but lying there like a hard slippery dense rock between them.

"I think Sid might be right," Eugene says.

"You are not talking about Sidney Fucking Philips right now…"

"This is the most amazing experience of my life," Eugene brags, leaning in to kiss Snafu's neck and running his hand down Snafu's side as Snafu arches up into the touch.

"Shut the fuck up, Sledge," Snafu gripes.

"Mmm, no, I won't," Eugene hums against Snafu's collarbone, "You love it. I've seen you now. I know."

"Fuck, Gene! Please."

Eugene's hand slides between their bodies and strokes Snafu's cock - fucking adoringly - if a hand job could even be adoring - and, fuck all it takes is one second before Snafu loses total control, and much to everyone's surprise, cum squirts high and shoots far enough to hit Gene in the chin.

Snafu stares at Eugene, wide eyed with shock, and maybe a little embarrassment.

Eugene laughs. He gathers Snafu up even tighter in his arms, buries his face in his hair, and whispers, "I love you," his voice full of delight.

Snafu is slowly drifting back to earth, though he can feel his mouth still gaping like a fish. "You ain't done yet."

"I got too distracted by you," Gene replies. He slowly starts rolling his hips into Snafu again.

Snafu rolls his eyes at the sentiment.

Eugene pistons into him erratically, like he's chasing a high he doesn't quite understand how to reach. Feeling a sudden burst of inspiration, Snafu maneuvers Eugene to where he can hold Gene's face in his hands, wipe off the cum dripping down his neck, and then asks, in a serious voice, "Sledge?"

"Yeah?" Eugene responds.

"Hammer me."

Eugene bites his lip to keep from laughing and he presses his forehead to Snafu's but he starts to go at it a little more rhythmically. Snafu keeps his eyes open to watch it happen. He sees when Sledge hits the tipping point and starts pounding into him desperately. And sees when Eugene finally climaxes in a series of moans and breathy whispers of Snafu's name.

They collapse together in a slippery mess.

As could be predicted, Eugene is a snuggler and he clings to Snafu like a long-limbed sloth. He even falls asleep. And snores. Snafu curls around him and wiggles his fingers through Gene's hair to smooth all the knots out. That takes him a good long while. Eventually the rain stops. Gene sleeps on.

Burgie accidentally steps into the tent for a brief second. After the initial moment of shocked staring, he pivots to face the wall and casts his eyes to the ceiling.

Snafu's fight or flight instinct kicks in because Burgie is not leaving. Despite Sledge's bare ass being on display between Snafu's very naked legs.

"Well, that's a relief," Burgie comments idly, "I take it this means we won't be having any more personal problems among our mortar squad?"

"Right as rain, Burgie," Snafu drawls.

"Good," Burgie nods at the wall, his tone is friendly, "I'll tell the skipper you're both indisposed tonight. See you in the morning, Snaf." And then he leaves, shutting the door tight behind him.

The sound wakes Eugene up, finally.

Gene squints, and looks around himself like he's lost. His eyes finally settle on Snafu and his whole expression goes soft. He melts over Snafu's body languidly and props his chin on Snafu's chest.

"Yeah, after this I'm gonna have to move my benchmark. Take this into consideration as the most amazing indescribable experience ever," Eugene says.

He's looking so full of himself and smiley that Snafu would be tempted to take him down a peg or two if Gene wasn't also so irresistible.

"You can journal about it," Snafu suggests.

Gene snorts a laugh. He kisses Snafu's sternum gently.

Snafu stretches, his body starting to ache from lying around so long. He tickles Eugene's neck till he rolls off him in a fit of giggles. "Gonna have to change my nickname," Snafu says, "SNAFO. Situation Normal All Fucked Out."

"That will never catch on," Eugene argues. His hand starts exploring Snafu's body and is awfully close to reaching between his thighs again.

"Gene!" Snafu laughs. He flexes his hips and hums when Eugege's delicate fingers rub him lightly. He's still soft, but honestly, with Eugene, it probably wouldn't take much. "That wasn't a challenge."

"You sure about that?" Eugene asks impishly, "Cause I'm prepared to take it as one."

Snafu rolls on top of him and sits up. He pins Eugene's arms over his head playfully.

"Least we got a new nickname for you outta this," Snafu points out.

'What's that?" Gene asks.

"Sledgehammer."

"If you dare…" Eugene starts in a mock serious tone, "...to call me that in front of any of the men...I'll...I'll…"

"You'll what?" Snafu taunts.

"I'll kiss you in public," Eugene says, "In full view of everybody."

"You won't," Snafu calls his bluff.

"Maybe not, but I'll want to," Eugene says, "Every time you call me that I'll want to."

"Sledgehammer," Snafu drawls, taunting.

Eugene smiles, pulls him into a kiss, and Eugene's 'first time' quickly transitions into his 'second time'.

Snafu doesn't push the boundaries of the nickname. He only uses it in private, when he can whisper in Eugene's ear and Eugene can bend down to kiss him silly.

They search out places they can be alone. It isn't too difficult to do but the farther they wander from civilization, the less hospitable the environment is. After a few days of discovering how uncomfortable sand can be in sensitive areas of the body, and a few 'times' of almost getting caught by fellow Marines less friendly than Burgin, Snafu comes up with the bright idea to borrow old tent material and use it as a blanket. They hike through the jungle to an isolated beach cove and stretch the stained canvas over the sand.

"Does it keep getting better every time?" Eugene asks Snafu afterwards.

They're lying on top of each other, still naked and sweaty. Snafu is itching for a smoke. He reaches for his pants, but Eugene, knowing exactly what he is going for, places a gentle hand on his shoulder to stop him.

Snafu grunts and shifts so he's nestled more snugly between Eugene's legs. He works out his craving on Eugene's neck, and takes great pleasure in sucking a hickey in a place Eugene can't possibly hide.

"I'm wondering how often I'll need to move that benchmark," Eugene continues.

"As if I'm the expert?" Snafu asks.

"You are the one with more experience here…" Eugene says.

"Not like this," Snafu lifts his head to stare into Gene's eyes, "Never had nothing like this, Sledgehammer."

There's a fire in Snafu and it's not lust. Or maybe partially, but another part, a deeply buried protective streak, desperately wants Eugene to keep this. This warm happy glow around sex. Cause Snafu's benchmark is moving too, in a direction he thought impossible, and the changes make him so dizzy he can barely keep up. Sometimes he forgets there was anything before this. That love and pleasure is as uncomplicated and joyous as Eugene believes it to be - completely unassociated with physical pain, with hatred. A total opposite to the carnage and destructive hell of war. 

The thought of losing Eugene to war makes Snafu nauseous, and yet it's a constant awareness in the back of his mind, coloring everything they do. Eugene, meanwhile, remains blissfully unaware.

And fuck, that's gonna change, and Snafu is powerless to stop it.

They're going into battle tomorrow. This is the last chance he'll get to lay around and relish in the feel of Eugene's bare unblemished skin against his.

Possibly the last chance ever, if Eugene joins ranks with one of the many many statistics.

So he forgoes smoking and pours all his attention into making Eugene moan every chance he gets. Let Eugene have this. Let him hold onto this.

"Sledgehammer," Snafu says when he finds Eugene standing alone on the deck of the ship carrying them into battle. The sun is setting, and Eugene is beautiful.

Gene responds with a kiss intense enough to be worthy of their last kiss. Snafu promises to stick by Eugene's side during the entire campaign. They don't talk about any other possibility.

As it turns out, the first time Snafu uses Eugene's nickname in front of K Company happens after Eugene saves Snafu's life. The minute Snafu says "Sledgehammer" out loud, Eugene looks at him slyly. And in that single glance, Snafu knows they both understand.

tagging request @xmxisxforxmaybe

[fourteenaway]

Little Lion Man | The Story of Cary / Part III

tw: rape, infidelity, pregnancy, stepcest

Exactly at seven-thirty that night, the door chimes sounded, punched by an impatient finger, forcing Caren to hurry lest the man waken Cary who hadn't liked being put to bed at such an early hour.

If she had taken pains to look her best, so had Harry. He strode in as if he already owned the place and her. He left behind a drift of shaving lotion with a piney forest scent, and every hair on his head was carefully in place, making her wonder if he had a thinning spot. She figured she’d find out for herself sooner or later.

She took his coat and hung it in the hall closet, then sashayed over to the bar where she busied herself as he sat down before the log fire she had burning nothing had been overlooked; She even had soft music playing.

By this time Caren knew enough about men and the ways of pleasing them best. There wasn't a man alive who wasn't charmed by a lovely woman bustling about, eager to wait on him, pamper and wine and dine him, if you asked her.

“Name your weakness, Harry."

"Scotch."

"On the rocks?"

"Neat."

He watched her every movement, which was deliberately graceful and deft. Then, turning her back she mixed a fruity drink for myself, lacing it lightly with vodka. And with her two little stemmed goblets on a silver tray, Caren seductively ambled his way, leaning to give him an enticing view of her braless bosom. She sat across from him and swung one leg over the other to allow the long slit of her rose-colored dress to open and expose one leg from silver sandal midway to the hip. He couldn't take his eyes off it. 

"Sorry about the glasses,” Caren said smoothly, well pleased with his expression, "I don't have room in this cottage to unpack everything I own. Most of my crystal is in storage and I have here only wine glasses and water goblets."

"Scotch is scotch no matter how it's served. And what in the world is that thing you're sipping?" By this time he'd shifted his gaze to the low V of her gown.

"Well, you take orange juice freshly squeezed, a dab of lemon juice a dash of vodka, bit of coconut oil, and drop in a cherry to dive after. I call it A Maiden's Delight."

After a few minutes of conversation, they drifted to the dining table, not so far from the fireplace, to eat by candlelight. Every so often he'd drop his fork, or spoon, or she would, and both of them would go for it, then laugh to see who was fastest. Caren was, every time. He was much too distracted to spot a missing fork or spoon when a neckline opened up so obligingly.

"This is delicious chicken," he said after demolishing five hours of hard labor in about ten minutes. "Usually I don't like chicken-where'd you learn to prepare this dish?"

Caren told him the truth, “A Russian dancer taught me, she was on tour over here, and we liked each other. She and her husband stayed with Leeland and me, and we'd cook together whenever we weren't dancing or shopping or touring. It took four chickens to feed four people. Now you know the nasty truth about dancers; when it comes to eating we are not in the least dainty. That is, after a performance. Before we go on we have to eat very lightly."

He smiled and leaned across the small drop-leaf table. Candlelight was in his eyes, sparkling them devilishly.

"Caren, tell me honestly why you came to live in this hick town and why you've got your heart set on me for a lover."

"You flatter yourself," Caren said in her most aloof manner, thinking she was very successful in appearing cool on the outside while inside she was a web of conflicting emotions. It was almost as if she had stage fright and was in the wings waiting to go on. And this was the most important performance of her life. Then almost magically she felt she was on stage. She didn't have to think of how to act or what to say to charm him and make him forever hers. The script had been written a long time ago when she was hidden and first found out her mother had married him. 

"You're not being honest with yourself," Harry said softly, "You know better than anyone where that missing piece is, or I wouldn't be here."

His voice was so low and seductive as he stood and took her into his arms to dance.

Caren put her head on his shoulder as they went on dancing, "You're wrong, Harry, I don't know why you're here. I don't know how to fill my days. When I'm teaching class and when I'm with my son, then I'm alive-but when he's in bed and I'm alone, I don't know what to do with myself. I know Cary needs a father, and when I think of his father I realize I've always managed to do the wrong thing. I've read my reviews that rave about the potential I had... but in my personal life I've made only mistakes, so what I accomplished professionally doesn't matter at all." 

Caren stopped moving her feet and sniffled, then tried to hide her face, but he tilted it upward, then dried my tears and held his handkerchief so she could blow her nose. Then came the silence. The long, long silence. Their eyes met and clung and her heart started a faster thumping.

"Your problems are all so simple, Caren," he began, "all you need is someone like me, who needs someone like you. If Cary needs a father, then I need a son. See how simply all complicated matters are solved?"

Too simply, she thought, when he had a wife and she was discerning and cynical enough to know he couldn't possibly care for her enough. 

“You have a wife you love," Caren said bitterly. 

Caren shoved him away. She didn't want to get him too easily, but only after long and difficult struggles against her mother, and she wasn't here to know.

"Men are liars too," he said flatly, with some of the zest gone from his eyes. "I have a wife and occasionally we sleep together, but the fire has gone out. I don't know her. I don't think anyone knows her. She's a bundle of secrets, wound up tight, and she won't let me inside. It's gone on so long I don't care to be let in now. She can keep her secrets and her tears, and eat her way out of her anxieties and whatever it is that makes her wake up in the night and go and look in that damned blue album! Now she's overweight and she's written she's just had plastic surgery, a face lift, and I won't know her when she comes back. As if I ever really knew her!"

Caren panicked inside, he had to care! How could she break up a marriage that was already coming apart? She needed to feel she'd accomplished this against overwhelming odds! 

“Go home!" Caren said, pushing at him. "Get out of my house! I don't know you well enough to even listen to your problems, and I don't believe you. I don't trust you!"

He laughed, mocking her, aroused by her puny efforts to push him away. His libido was fired and it flamed in his eyes as he grabbed her upper arms and drew her hard against him. 

“Now you come off it! Look at the way you're dressed. You had me come here for a reason. So here I am, ready to be seduced. You seduced me the first time I saw you, and for the life of me it seems I've known you much longer than I actually have. Nobody plays games with me, then calls it a draw. You win or I win, but if we go to bed together we might wake up in the morning and find out we've both won."

Red lights flashed, Stop! Resist! Fight! Caren did none of those things. Caren beat on his chest with ineffectual small fists as he laughed and picked her up and threw her over his shoulder. 

With one hand he gripped both of her legs to keep them from kicking, and with the other he turned out the lamps. In the dark, with her still beating on his back, he carried her into her bedroom and threw her down on the comforter. She scrambled to get up, but he came at her fast!

There wasn't a chance to use the knee she had ready. He sensed her dancer's ability could defeat him so he lunged, caught her about the waist so they both tumbled to the floor! Caren opened her mouth to scream, but he clamped his hand upon her open lips, then pinioned her arms with his iron strength and sat on the legs that tried to kick herself free.

“Caren, my lovely seductress, you went to such a lot of trouble. You seduced me long ago, ballerina. Until the week before Christmas you are mine, and then my wife will be home-and I won't need you."

His hand eased away from her lips and she thought she would scream, but instead she bit out, “At least I didn't have to buy you with my father's millions!" 

That did it. He crushed his lips brutally hard down on hers before she realized what was happening. This wasn't the way she wanted it! Caren wanted to tempt him, set him on fire, make him chase her, and give in only after a long and arduous pursuit that her mother could watch and suffer through, knowing she could do nothing or she'd talk. And yet he was taking her heartlessly, more ruthless than Leeland at his worst! 

Savagely he bore down on her. He squirmed and writhed to grind in, even as his hands ripped and tore off her clinging rose dress. All she had on then was pantyhose, and soon he had those pulled down so her silver slippers came off and stayed inside of them.

With his lips still crushed brutally hard on hers, he carried her resisting hand to his zipper and squeezed until her knuckles cracked. It was either tug it down or have her fingers broken! How he managed to wiggle out of his clothes, even as he held her naked beneath him, she’d never know. 

When he was naked, but for his socks, she kept on wiggling, writhing, squirming, butting and trying to scratch or bite while he kissed, fondled and explored. Caren had her chance to scream several times—but she too was breathing fast and hard, and jerking upward to force him off. But he took this as a welcoming arch of invitation. He entered, and had his too quick satisfaction, then pulled out before she had any.

"Get out of here." Caren screamed. “I'm calling the police! I'll have you thrown in jail, charged with assault and rape!"

He laughed scornfully, chucked her under the chin playfully, then stood up to pull on his clothes. 

“Oh," he said, mocking her with an imitation of her own voice, “I am so frightened.” Then his voice was deeply earnest.“You aren't happy, are you? It didn't work out the way you planned it, but don't you worry, tomorrow night I'll be back, and maybe then you can please me enough, so I'll feel like taking the time to please you."

"I've got a gun!" She declared thought she didn't, “And if you dare set foot in this house again you're a dead man! Not that you are a man. You are more brute than human!"

“My wife often says the same thing," he said casually, zipping up his trousers shamelessly, without the decency to even turn his back. “But she likes it just the same, just as you did. Beef Wellington, you can have that tomorrow night, plus a tossed salad and a chocolate mousse for dessert. If you make me fat, we can burn off the calories in the most pleasant way possible,and I don't mean jogging." 

He grinned, saluted her, put one foot behind the other to turn in a smartly, military fashion, then paused at the doorway as Caren sat up and clutched the remnants of her gown to her breasts. 

“Same time tomorrow night, and I'll stay the night-that is, if you treat me right."

He left, and slammed the front door behind him.

Caren began to cry, not from pity for herself. It was frustration so huge she could have torn him limb from limb!

She’d lace the beef wellington with arsenic. 

A small timid sound came from outside her door then.

“Mommy... I'm scared. Are you cryin', Mommy?" Came Cary’s soft voice.

Hastily she pulled on a robe and called him in, then held him close in her arms. “Darling, darling, Mommy is all right. You had a bad dream. Mommy isn't crying... see?"

Cary peered into her face worriedly, he heard too much, not that he understood it all. Cowering in his bed scared, before he finally got up and got to his mother’s door.

Caren brushed away the tears, for she'd get even.

Three dozen red roses arrived while Cary and she were eating breakfast, he long-stemmed variety from the florist. 

A small white card read: I'm sending you a big bouquet of roses, One for every night you'll have my heart.

No name. And what the devil was she supposed to do with three dozen roses in a matchbox house? She couldn't send them to a children's ward; the hospital was miles and miles away. 

Cary decided what to do with them, "Oh, Mommy, how pretty! Uncle William's roses!"

For Cary she kept the roses instead of throwing them out, and in many vases she scattered them throughout the house.

He was delighted, and when she took him with her to dancing school he told all the students, roses were all over his home-even in the bathroom.

After lunch Caren drove Cary to the nursery school he so loved. It was a Montessori school that was inspiring him to want to learn by appealing to his senses. 

Already he could print his name, and he was only three! He was like Daniel, Caren told herself, brilliant, handsome, talented, oh, her Cary had everything—but a father. 

From his bright blue eyes shone the quick intelligence of someone who would have a lifetime curiosity about everything. 

“Cary, I love you."

"I know that, Mommy. I love you too," he said before he waved good-bye as she drove off.

Caren was there to meet him when he came from his school, his small face flushed and troubled. 

"Mommy," he said as soon as he was beside her in the car, "Victor Harding, he said his mommy slapped him when he touched her there." 

And he shyly pointed at her breast, “You don't slap me when I touch you there,” Cary whispered.

"But you don't touch me there, not since you were a little baby and Mommy nursed you for a short while."

"Did you slap me then?" He asked, looking so worried. 

"No, of course not. Babies are meant to suckle their mother's breasts, and I would never slap you for touching there, so if you want to try me, go ahead and touch,” Caren said.

Cary lifted his small hand and reached out tentatively while he watched his mother’s face to see if she'd be shocked. 

Oh, how fast the young learned all the taboos, Caren thought. 

And when he'd touched and God's lightning hadn't struck him down, he smiled, very relieved. 

"Oh, it's just a soft place," he laughed at the pleasant discovery he made before he threw his arms his mothers neck, “I love you, Mommy. Cause you love me even when I'm bad."

"I'll always love you, Cary. And if you're bad sometimes, I'll try and understand." 

Yes, she was not going to be like her mother. She was going to be the perfect mother, and someday he'd have a father too. 

How was it that little children, such young ones, would already be talking of sin and being slapped for only touching? 

Caren stopped to buy stamps before she reached home, and left Cary dozing on the front seat. 

Harry was in the post office, which was no larger than her living room, buying stamps too. 

Charmingly he smiled at her, as if nothing untoward had happened between them the night before. 

He even had the nerve to follow her to her car so he could ask how she liked the roses. 

"Not your kind of roses," she snapped, then got primly into her car and slammed the door in his face. She left him staring after her without a smile-in fact, he looked rather miserable.

At five-thirty a special-delivery man brought a small package to her front door. It was certified so she had to sign for it. Inside a larger box was another box, and inside of that was a velvet jewelry case which she quickly opened while Cary watched, all eyes. On black velvet lay a single rose composed of many diamonds. Also a card with a note that read, ‘Perhaps this kind of rose is more to your liking.’ She put the thing away as a trifle bought with her mother’s money, so it wasn't really from him, no more than the real roses.

He had the nerve to come that night at seven-thirty just as he'd said he would. Nevertheless, she readily let him in, then led him silently to the dining table with no to do about cocktails or other niceties. The table was set even more elaborately than the night before. She'd hauled out some boxes and done some unpacking, and on the table were her best lace mats and covered silver serving dishes.

Neither of them had as yet spoken. All his forgive-me roses she'd gathered together and they were in the box near his plate. On his empty plate was the jeweler's velvet container with the diamond rose brooch inside. She sat to watch his expression as he put the jewelry box aside casually, and just as casually moved the flower box out of his way. 

He reached for the domed silver lid, ostensibly hiding the Beef Wellington underneath. His gaze lowered to stare at the huge platter that held one hot dog and a small dab of cold canned beans. 

The disbelief in his eyes, his utter offended shock gave her so much satisfaction she almost liked him.

"You are now gazing upon Cary's favorite menu," she said, gloating. “It is exactly what he and I ate tonight for dinner, and since it was good enough for us, I thought it was good enough for you, so I saved some. Since I've already eaten, all of that is yours alone, and you may help yourself."

Scowling, he flashed her a burning, hard look, then savagely bit down into the hot dog which she’d sure had grown cold as the beans. But he gobbled down everything and drank his glass of milk, and for dessert she handed him a box of animal crackers. 

First he stared at the box in another expression of dumbfounded amazement, then ripped it open, seized up a lion and snapped off the head in one bite.

"I take it you are one of those despicable liberated women who refuses to do anything to please a man!"

"Wrong. I am liberated only with some men. Others I can worship, adore and wait on happily.”

"You made me do what I did!” he objected strongly. “Do you think I planned it that way? I wanted us to find our relationship on an equal basis. Why did you wear that kind of dress?"

"It's the kind all chauvinist men prefer!"

"I am not a chauvinist, and I hate that kind of dress!"

"You like what I've got on better?” Caren sat up straighter to give him a better view of the old nappy sweater she had on. With it she wore faded blue jeans, with dirty sneakers on her feet, and her hair was skinned back and fastened in a granny's knot. Deliberately she'd pulled long strands free so they hung loose about her face, slovenly fringes to make her look more appealing. And no makeup prettied her face. 

He was dressed to kill.

"At least you look honest and ready to let me do the pursuing. If there is one thing I despise, it's women who come on strong, like you did last night. I expected better from you than that kind of sleazy dress that showed everything to take the thrill from discovering for myself.”

He knitted his brows and mumbled, “From a damned harlot's red dress to blue jeans. In the course of one day, she changes into a teenybopper."

"It was rose-colored, not red! And besides, Harry, strong men like you always adore weak and passive stupid women, because basically you're meek yourself and afraid of an aggressive woman!"

"I am not weak or meek or anything but a man who likes to feel a man, not to be used for your own purposes. And as for passive women I despise them as much as I do aggressive ones. I just don't like the feeling of being the victim of a huntress leading me into a trap. What the hell are you trying to do to me? Why dislike me so much? I sent you rose and diamonds, and you can't even comb your hair and take the shine from your nose."

"You are looking at the natural me, and now that you've seen, you can leave."

Caren got up and walked to the front door and swung it open. “We are wrong for each other. Go back to your wife. She can have you, for I don't want you."

He came quickly, as if to obey, then seized her in his arms and kicked the door closed. “I love you, God knows why I do, but it seems I've always loved you."

Caren stared up in his face, disbelieving him, even as he took the pins from her hair and let it spill down. Out of long habit she tossed it about so it fluffed out and arranged itself, and smiling a little he tilted her face to his. 

“May I kiss your natural lips? They are very beautiful lips." 

Without waiting for permission he brushed his lips gently over hers.

Why didn't all men know that was the right way to start? She wondered. What woman wanted to be eaten alive, choked by a thrusting tongue? Not her, she wanted to be played like a violin, strummed pianissimo, in largo timing, fingered into legato, and let it grow into crescendo. 

Deliciously she wanted to head toward the ecstatic heights that could only happen for her when the right words were spoken and the right kind of kisses, given before his hands came into play.

If he'd done for her only a little last night, this night he used all the skills he had. This time he took her to the stars where they both exploded, still holding tight to each other, and doomed to do it again, and then again.

He was hairy all over. Leeland had been hairless but for one thatch that grew in a thin line up to his navel. 

She turned off her mind, and gave in to her senses and to this man who was now treating her like a lover.

But he didn't love her, she knew that. Harry was using her as a substitute for his wife, and when she came back she'd never see him again. She knew it, but still she took and she gave until they fell asleep in each other's arms.

When she slept, she dreamed. Leeland was in the silver music box her father had given her when she was six. Round and round he spun, his face ever turning toward her, accusing her with his jet eyes, and then he grew a mustache and was William, who only looked sad.

She ran fast to set him free from death in a music box when it turned into a coffin-and then it was Daniel inside, his eyes closed, his hands folded one over the other on his chest. Dead, dead.

‘DANIEL’, she shouted.

She awoke to find Harry gone and her pillow wet with tears.

Why did her mother start this, perhaps had she not, maybe she would have found Daniel right away, and before anyone else. She would have fallen in love with him with no revenge to carry out or repayments to deliver. But then she wouldn’t have Cary. But perhaps she still would have found Leeland and maybe he would have been what she wanted had she not had so many other priorities and he would have been good to her too.

Holding tight to her son's small hand she led him out into the cold morning air on her way to work. 

Faint and far away she heard someone calling her name, and with it came the scent of an ocean breeze. 

‘Why don't you come, Daniel, and save me from myself? Why only call in your thoughts?’ She thought.

Part one was done. Part two would begin when her mother knew she had Harry's child.

Harry and her didn't have to sneak around furtively to meet.

The houses where he lived were far apart and no one could see them when he came to her through the back door that opened out into a yard with a fence. In back of that was a country lane, shrubbed, and made private by many trees. Sometimes they met in a distant town and their lovemaking in a motel room was wild, sweet, tender, erotic and altogether satisfying, and yet she froze when he told her at lunch, “She called this morning, Caren. She'll be home before Christmas."

"That's nice," Caren said and went right on eating her salad and anticipating the Beef Wellington that would show up soon. 

He frowned and his fork loaded with salad hesitated on the way to his mouth. “It means we won't be able to see as much of each other. Aren't you sorry?"

"We'll find ways."

"If you aren't the damndest woman!"

"Don't get so worked up over nothing. All women are monsters to men, and maybe to ourselves. We are our own worst enemies. You don't have to divorce her and give up your chance to inherit her fortune. Though she could outlive you and have the chance to buy another younger husband."

"Sometimes you are just as bitchy as she is! She did not buy me! I loved her! She loved me! I was crazy about her, as crazy for her as I am for you now. But she changed. When I met her she was sweet, charming, everything I wanted in a woman and wife, but she changed." 

He stabbed the salad fork toward his mouth and chewed viciously, “She's always been a mystery-like you."

“Harry, my love," she said, “very soon all mystery walls will crumble."

He went on, as if she hadn't interrupted, “That father of hers, he too was a mystery; you'd look at him and see a fine old gentleman, but underneath was a heart of steel. I thought I was his only attorney, but he had six others, each of us assigned to different tasks. Mine was to make out his wills. He changed them dozens of times, putting this family member in, and writing another out, and adding codicils like a mad man, though he was sane enough right up until the very end. The last codicil was the worst."

Of course, no children for him, ever, she knew.

"Then you really were a practicing lawyer?" Caren asked.

He smiled bitterly, then answered, “Of course I was. And now I am again. A man needs something meaningful to do. How many times can anyone tour Europe before boredom sets in? You see the same old faces, doing the same old things, laughing at the same jokes. The Beautiful People what a laugh! Too much money buys everything but health, so they have no dreams left to purchase, and no aspirations, so in the end they are only bored."

"Why don't you divorce her and do something meaningful with your life?"

"She loves me.” That's the way he said it. Short. Sweet. He stayed because she loved him, forcing Caren to say, "You told me when we first met that you loved her, and then you say you don't which is it?"

He thought about it for a long time.

"Honestly, ballerina, I'm ambivalent and resentful. I love her, I hate her. I thought she was what you seem to be now. So please, smother that bitchy side that reminds me of her and don't try and do to me what she did. You are putting a wall between us because you know something I don't. I don't fall in love easily, and I wish I didn't love you."

He seemed suddenly a small boy, wistful, as if his pet dog might betray him and life would never be good again.

Caren was touched and dared to say, “Harry, I swear there will come a day when you know all my secrets and all of hers, but until that time comes say you love me, even if you don't mean it, for I can't enjoy being with you if I don't feel you love me just a little."

"A little? It seems I've loved you all my life. Even when I kissed you the first time it seemed I'd kissed you before, why is that?"

“Karma," she replied and smiled at his baffled expression.

Harry spent more time at her small home than at his huge one. He piled her with as many gifts, as he did Cary. 

He ate his breakfast, lunch and dinner with them on the days he didn't spend in his office, which she privately believed was more a facade for appearing useful than a functioning law office.

Her dancing school suffered from his attention, but it didn't matter. She was now a kept woman. Paid to be his mistress.

And Cary was delighted with the little leather boots Harry gave him. 

“Are you my daddy?" asked Cary, who would be four in February, "No. but I sure wish I was and I could be,” Harry answered.

It was only second before Cary was out in the yard, tromping around and staring down at his feet that fascinated him now that they wore cowboy boots.

Caren and Harry lay entwined after their lovemaking, listening to the wind blending with Cary's shrill laughter, racing after the poodle, Rainbow, that Harry had given him. 

A few snow flurries were beginning to fall. She knew she had to get up soon so Cary wouldn't run in and catch them,  just to tell them it was snowing.

He couldn't remember other snows, and barely would the ground be sugar-coated than he'd want to make a snowman. Sighing first, she kissed Harry, then reluctantly pulled from his embrace. She turned her back to pull on bikini panties as he propped up on an elbow and watched.

"You've got a lovely behind," he said. She said thanks, "What about my front?" He said it wasn't bad and she threw a shoe at him.

"Caren, why don't you say you love me?"

Caren whirled about, startled. "Have you ever said it to me and meant it?" She asked as she snapped on a bra.

"How do you know I don't mean it?" he asked with anger.

"Let me tell you how I know. When you love, you want that person with you all of the time. When you avoid the subject of divorce, that alone is an indication of how much you care for me and just where I belong in your life."

“Caren, you've been hurt, haven't you? I don't want to hurt you more. You play games with me. I've always known that. What does it matter if it is only sex and not love? And tell me how to know where one ends and the other begins?"

His teasing words were a knife in her heart, for somehow, without meaning to let it happen, she'd fallen madly, idiotically in love with him.

According to Harry's enthusiastic report, his long gone wife came home from her rejuvenation trip looking smashingly young and beautiful. 

“She's lost twenty pounds. I swear, that face lift has done wonders! She looks sensational, and damn it, so unbelievably like you!"

It was easy to see how impressed he was with his new, younger-looking wife, and if he was only trying to take the wind from her too confident sails, Caren didn't let it show.

Then he was telling her she was just as necessary to him as before in a tone that said she was not. 

“Caren, while she was in Texas she changed. She's like she used to be, the sweet, loving woman I married."

Men! How gullible they were! Of course her mother was sweeter and nicer to him now that she knew he had a mistress who was very accessible, and that the other woman was her own daughter. She'd have to know, for it was whispered all about how much Harry’s mistress looked like a younger version of his wife.

"So, why are you here with me when your wife is back and so like me? Why don't you put your clothes on and say goodbye and never come back? Say it was sweet while it lasted, but it's all over now, and I'll say thank you for a wonderful time before I kiss you farewell."

"Well," he drawled, pulling her hard against his naked body, “I didn't say she was that sensational looking. And then again, there is something special about you. I can't name it. I can't understand it. But I don't know if I can live without you now." 

He said it seriously, truth in his dark eyes.

So she'd won.

Quite by accident her mother and her met in the post office one day. She saw her and shivered. Her lovely head lifted higher as she turned it slightly away, pretending she didn't know her. 

She would deny her as she'd denied Cassidy, even though it was so obvious that they were mother and daughter and not strangers.

But Caren wasn't Cassidy. So she treated her as she treated her, indifferently, as if she were nobody special and never would be again. 

Yet, as she waited impatiently for her roll of stamps, she saw her mother dart her eyes to follow the restless prowl of her young son who had to stare at everything and everyone. 

He was a handsome, graceful, and charming boy who drew the eyes of everyone, who had to stop and admire him and pat his head. 

Cary moved with innate style, unstudied and relaxed, at ease wherever he was, because he thought the whole world was his, and he was loved by everyone. 

He turned to catch her mother's long stare and he smiled.

"Hello," he greeted. “You're pretty-like my mommy,” he told her.

Oh, the things children say! What innocent knowledge they had to see so readily what others instinctively refused to acknowledge. 

He stepped closer to reach out and tentatively touch her fur coat. “My mommy's got a fur coat. My mommy is a dancer. Do you dance?"

She sighed, and Caren held her breath and thought, ‘See, Momma, there is the grandson your arms will never hold. You'll never hear him say your name. Never!’

"No," she whispered, “I'm not a dancer,” and tears filmed her eyes.

"My mommy can teach you how,” Cary smiled.

"I'm too old to learn," she whispered, backing off.

"No, you're not," said Cary, reaching for her hand as if he'd show her the way, but she pulled back and glanced at Caren reddened, then fumbled in her purse for a handkerchief.

Cary frowned slightly and went on unperturbed, “Do you have a little boy I can play with?" He questioned concerned to see her tears, as if having a son would make up for not knowing how to dance.

"No," she said in a quivering weak whisper, “I don't have any children.”

That's when Caren moved in to say in a cold, harsh voice, "Some women don't deserve to have children." 

She paid for her roll of stamps and dropped them in her purse, “Some women like you, Mrs. Walters, would rather have money than the bother of children who might get in the way of good times. Time itself will sooner or later let you know if you made the right decision."

She turned her back and shivered again as if all her furs couldn't keep her warm enough. Then she strode from the post office and headed toward a chauffeur-driven, black limousine. 

Like a queen she rode off, head held high, leaving Cary to ask, “Mommy, why don't you like that pretty lady? I like her a lot. She's like you, only not so pretty."

Caren didn't comment, though it was on the tip of her tongue to say something so ugly he would never forget it.

In the twilight of that evening Caren sat near the windows, staring toward her mothers house and wondering what Harry and her mother were doing. Her hands were on her abdomen which was still flat, but soon it would be swelling with the child that might be started. 

One missed period didn't prove anything except she wanted Harry's baby, and little things made her feel sure there was a baby.

She let depression come and take her though. He wouldn't leave her and her money to marry her and she'd have another fatherless child. 

What a fool to start all of this, but she'd always been a fool.

And then she saw a man slipping through the woods, coming to her, and she laughed, made confident again.

He loved her! He did and as soon as she knew for certain, she would tell him he was to be a father.

“Caren, you told me there was no need for precautions!"

"There was no need. I want your baby.”

"You want my baby? What the hell do you think I can do, marry you?"

"No. I did my own assuming. I presumed you'd have your fun with me and when it was over you'd go back to your wife and find yourself another playmate. And I'd have just what I set out to get, your baby. Now I can leave. So kiss me off, Harry, as just another of your little extramarital dalliances."

He looked furious. They were in my living room, while a fierce blizzard raged outside. Snow heaped in mounds window-high, and she was before the fireplace, knitting a baby bunting before she began a bootie. She was getting ready to slip a stitch then knit two together when Harry seized her knitting from my hands and hurled it away. 

“It's unraveling!” Caren cried in dismay.

"What the hell are you trying to do to me, Caren? You know I can't marry you! I never lied and said I would. You're playing a game with me." 

He choked and covered his face with his hands, then took them down and pleaded, "I love you. God help me but I do. I want you near me always, and I want my child too. What kind of game are you playing now?"

“Just a woman's game. The only game she can play and be sure of winning."

“Look," he said, trying to regain his control of the situation, “explain what you mean, don't double talk. Nothing has to change because my wife is back. You'll always have a place in my life/"

"In your life? Don't you mean more correctly, on the fringes of your life?"

For the first time she heard humility in his voice, "Caren, be reasonable. I love you, and I love my wife too. Sometimes I can't separate you from her. She came back different, as I told you, and now she is like she was when we first met. Maybe a more youthful figure and face has given her back some confidence she lost, and because of it she can be sweeter. Whatever the cause. I'm grateful. Even when I disliked her, I loved her. When she was hateful, I'd try and strike back by going to other women, but still I loved her. The one big issue we fight over is her unwillingness to have a child, even an adopted one. Of course she's too old to have one now. Please, Caren, stay! Don't leave! Don't take my child away so I will never know what happens to him, or to her...or to you."

Caren laid it out flat, “All right, I will stay on one condition. If you divorce her and marry me, only then will you have the child you always wanted. Otherwise, I'm taking myself, and that means your child too, far away. Maybe I'll write to let you know if you have a son or a daughter, and maybe I won't. Either way, once I leave, you are out of my life for good.” 

Before the fireplace he stood with his arm up on the mantel, then he rested his forehead on that and stared down at the fire. His free hand was behind his back and clenched into a fist. His confused thoughts were so deep they reached out and touched Caren with pity. He turned then to face her, staring deep into her eyes. 

“My God," he said, shocked by his discovery. "You planned this all along, didn't you? You came here to accomplish what you have, but why? Why should you choose me to hurt? What have I ever done to you, Caren, but love you? True, it started with sex, and sex only was what I wanted it to stay. But it has grown into something much more than that. I like being with you, just sitting and talking, or walking in the woods. I feel comfortable with you. I like the way you wait on me, and touch my cheek when you pass, and rumple my hair and kiss my neck, and the sweet, shy way you wake up and smile when you see me beside you. I like the clever games you play, keeping me always guessing, and always amused. I feel I have ten women in one, so now I feel I can't live without you. But I can't abandon my wife and marry you. She needs me!"

"You should have been an actor, Harry. Your words move me to tears."

"Damn you for taking this so lightly!” He bellowed. "You've got me on a rack and you're twisting the screws! Don't make me hate you and ruin the best months of my life!

With that he stormed out of her home, and she was left alone, ruefully regretting that she always talked too much, for she would stay as long as he needed her.

[themadamelibrarian]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Supernatural Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Gabriel/Lucifer/Sam Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester Additional Tags: Sub Lucifer (Supernatural), Established Relationship, Collars, Dom/sub, Post Mpreg, Dom Gabriel (Supernatural), Dom Sam Winchester, Married Life, Married Sex, Bathing/Washing, Bathtub Sex, Angelic Grace Sex (Supernatural), Mates, Family Bonding, Masturbation, Angelcest (Supernatural), Threesome - M/M/M, Making Love, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Lucifer reads romance novels... it's a thing, Rimming, Language Kink, Angel Wings, Wing Kink, Wing Oil, Biting, Uncle Dean Winchester, Uncle Castiel (Supernatural), Babysitting, Female Michael (Supernatural), Human Michael (Supernatural)

Series: Part 61 of Loving Heart

Summary: It’s been two months since the twins were born and Lucifer is running himself ragged trying to keep things going even with the help of his mates. It’ll take a whole lot of convincing for the angel to take a little time out for himself.

If you want to be tagged on future fic postings drop me an ask to let me know you want to be added the Library Card list. People who are over 18 years old and are added to the list legit get a Library card aesthetic.

Tagging: @copperseraphim @thenanahunter @truxblooded @lucibae-is-dancing-in-hell

It’s been two months after Samson and William were born, but Lucifer was in high energy and constantly doing things. He was up at the crack of dawn to feed and rock the babies and wake up Mary for school. He went to bed late at night and depending on his mood he’d exchange a blowjob or a handjob with his mates; or just went straight to sleep, only to repeat the cycle. On the weekends, he let Mary sleep but was up with the children. He did most of the chores too - the cleaning, the cooking, taking care of the children. He even gave Baby a tune-up, much to Dean’s surprise and gratitude. There was one hour a day Lucifer granted himself to relax, and that was typically spent as naptime with the babies, curled around them protectively and covering them with a giant wing.

Sam and Gabriel always offered to help and would even go as far as to try to sneak around Lucifer to “lighten his load”. But it was as if Lucifer had a sixth sense dedicated to helpful mates, for he’d appear within ten minutes of a chore being started and go - “Oh, thank you, but I can get that!” - and then nudge them out of the way so he could do it.

Dean was getting worried. He knew how Lucifer tended to react when he focused entirely on anyone but himself, and he also knew from the lack of noises (Gabriel and Sam when together, could be rather quiet) that Lucifer wasn’t even granting himself sexual release. So one day, he approached Sam and Gabriel.

“You gotta get him to relax.” He said. “Cas and I’ve discussed it, and we’re willing to babysit for as long as you need to take care of him. He’s going to burn himself out.”

Down the hall, songs from Wicked were playing as Lucifer vacuumed the nest.

Gabriel snorted as he flicked through a magazine. “Good luck with that.”

“We’ve been trying to convince him to take it easy for two weeks,” Sam said as he shoved the cleaning rod through the barrel of his handgun. “He won’t.”

Dean threw his hands in the air. “ Make him, then! He’s going to crash and burn and that’s not good for any of us.” He sat down in front of them. “Just. . . blindfold him and spirit him away to your guys’ cabin. Take no prisoners approach.”

Sam stopped and looked over at Gabriel with a shrug. “That might work.”

“If that doesn’t, I’ll have Cas take that cast iron skillet that Lucifer keeps seasoning to his head.” Dean offered helpfully.

Gabriel barked out a short laugh as he laid down the magazine and stood up. “Okay, okay. We’ll try again if that means we keep you from getting smited into next week. I’ll go pack his bags and the toys.”

Dean breathed a sigh of relief. “Thanks, guys. I appreciate it.”

The vacuum stopped and they took a few moments to appreciate Lucifer belting out the lyrics to Defying Gravity .

When he’d finished Gabriel was the first to break the spell by clapping slowly. “Beautiful, babe. Now pack your stuff.”

Lucifer cocked his head to the side, turning down the stereo on Popular. “For what purpose?” He asked.

“We’re going on a mini-vacation. You are going to relax and we are going to take care of you.” Sam interjected as he went to the closet and tossed one of the duffel bags to Gabriel who caught it gracefully.

Lucifer shook his head, going over to the linen closet and drawing out fresh sheets for the bed. “I love it when you two joke around.” He said, setting the clean sheets down and beginning to change the sheets on the bed.

Gabriel went to the dresser and started packing what they’d need for the weekend while Sam stopped Lucifer’s task by placing his hands over his mate’s. “We’re not joking, baby. Dean and Cas are watching the kids and you’re coming with us.”

Lucifer kissed Sam chastely and gently removed his hands from underneath his husband’s to return to the bed making. “Have fun.” He said, still not believing what they were saying.

“Lucifer!” Gabriel hissed out his brother’s full name, dropping the half-full bag on top of the dresser, something he’d placed in the bottom making a loud thumping sound. “Kindly pull your head out of your ass for five seconds and listen to us. We are leaving, you’re coming with us and then we’re going to have a nice couple of days doing nothing but sleeping, fucking and eating. Maybe in that order.”

“ Language. ” Lucifer hissed in retaliation, nodding over towards the nursery where he could hear the children cooing happily. He snapped the top sheet out and began tucking it into the bed, making it tight and neat across the bed.

“Fuck. Gonna fuck, have fucked and will fuck.” Gabriel said no louder than conversational volume but he could tell from the look on Sam’s face that he might have pushed into the realm of bratty but he couldn’t seem to care. Especially if it got Lucifer to pay attention.

Lucifer did the highly mature thing of turning his music up and ignored his swearing mate, sliding clean pillowcases onto freshly laundered pillows and setting them in their usual places.

Sam shook his head and then nodded toward Lucifer as if to tell his shorter mate that they might need the frying pan. Sighing, Gabriel snapped, sending Sam to the cabin and then crossed the room and grabbed Lucifer’s shoulder. Without warning, transporting them both to the cabin before any objections could be raised.

Lucifer glared at his mate once he realized where they were before rolling his eyes and making his way into the kitchen, presumably to clean it.

“Dammit Luc’, would you stop for five seconds?” Sam called after him.

Lucifer didn’t answer, just took the sponge from its dish by the sink and soaking it to wipe down the counters.

Gabriel slipped Lucifer’s collar into Sam’s hand after having summoned it from the box they kept upstairs. Looking down at the leather circlet, Sam opened the clasp and snuck up behind Lucifer and slipped it around his neck. “Calm down, Heylel. Let me take care of you.”

Lucifer felt the weight of the collar and he spun to face Sam, eyes wide open in a startled look of incomprehension. He didn’t understand what was going on and it was making him a bit anxious.

“You’re working too hard, baby.” Sam soothed as he ran a finger over the nameplate dangling down from the o-ring. “Let go. Give us the chance to take care of you properly.”

There was hesitation in Lucifer’s expression, the hesitance of someone who wanted what was being offered but wasn’t sure if they could accept it without a fight. His gaze lowered to the floor, scuffing his feet across the tile of the kitchen as his head spun. His hands found the edge of the counter and gripped it tight.  

“Heylel,” Gabriel said softly, not liking the way his mate was reacting to such a simple gesture. One they'd done countless times before. “We’re doing this because you need to slow down. Take time for yourself to relax and be cared for as much as you care for everyone else. But if this is too much, you can safeword.”

“We won't be upset if you do. We love you, baby, and want the best for you.” Sam added as he laid a hand in the small of Lucifer's back.

Lucifer didn’t answer, simply scuffed his foot more across the floor as he tried to relax. I need this. I need this. I want this. C’mon, let go. You know how. He said to himself.

Mistaking his reluctance for rejection, Sam reached up and started to undo the clasp of the collar. “It’s okay, Heylel. We don't have to.”

Lucifer reached up and snagged Sam’s wrist, stopping him from undoing the clasp on his collar. “Yes, we do.” He whispered. “Put it back.”

Sam glanced at Gabriel who shot a knowing smile at the hunter. Refastening the collar, Sam stroked a finger over Lucifer's cheek. “Good boy. Now, how about you and Gabriel go upstairs and take a nice long bath while I make us a snack.” He lifted Lucifer's hand and placed it in his brother's.

With a firm squeeze, Gabriel kissed his brother's cheek. “We might even have some coconut scented stuff left over.”

Lucifer smiled softly and squeezed Gabriel’s hand back. “Okay.” He whispered.

A soft pat on Lucifer’s rear from Sam ushered the pair up the stairs. Gabriel led the way until they were out of sight and then he pinned Lucifer against the wall, kissing him soundly. His fingers winding up into the short hair at the nape of Lucifer’s neck and gently tugging.

Lucifer gasped and whined into the kiss, grasping onto Gabriel’s shirt tightly as his senses were assaulted.

Gabriel broke the kiss, breathless and smiling, his lips pink and swollen. “Ready for your bath, sweetheart?”

Lucifer nodded, already looking better. “Yeah.” He murmured.

He scooped Lucifer up into his arms and carried him the rest of the way to the bathroom, making sure to peck small kisses along his brother’s shoulder and neck. Gabriel would rarely admit it but these quiet, tender moments were some of his favorites. He often thought it was because he was getting older and more mature about life instead of a hedonistic pagan godling. Setting Lucifer on the edge of the tub, Gabriel started drawing the water and adding the bath foam. “Might want to get naked for this part, sweetheart.”

Lucifer nodded and slowly began undressing. It was obvious, now that he was allowing himself the slightest bit of relaxation, how much his body ached from almost nonstop cleaning and housework and childrearing. His limbs were stiff and he winced as he bent over to remove his jeans and boxers from his body. If he wasn’t relaxed, one would have never known.

Noticing the labored movements, Gabriel sank to his knees and helped pull Lucifer’s jeans the rest of the way off his legs. “You’ve overexerted yourself, Heylel.” He commented without judgment as he looked up. “Let me heal you.”

Lucifer gave a very minute shake of his head, gripping the side of the tub. While he had been reconciling with Michael, the memories of what he had done in the Cage still lingered under the guise of “healing” and it was still difficult for him to allow someone else to heal him.

“I’d never hurt you. Not like that.” Gabriel tried to reassure him while stroking a hand along his hip. “I’d die first.”

Lucifer shivered and watched his brother’s wrist stroking his hip, closing his eyes and letting out a heavy breath. “ Talk me through it?”

“My Grace is warm, like melting butter,” Gabriel explained as his Grace started to press against Lucifer’s skin, a way of letting him get used to the feel and inviting his brother’s Grace to join. “You told me that once. Buttery was the word.”

Lucifer nodded, his own Grace tentatively reacting to Gabriel’s, brushing up against it in a familiar way.

“And it’s going to just flow through you, soft and easy. Finding the pain and injury, wiping it away so you can get in the tub without hurting.” With a firmer push, Gabriel’s Grace teasingly stroked against Lucifer’s. “It’s like when we join together, but gentler.”

Lucifer nodded, closing his eyes. “ I trust you.”

Standing, Gabriel kept a hand on Lucifer’s hip then kissed his forehead. At that moment, as he promised, his Grace eased into the older angel from the two points of contact, filling him with warmth and washing away the accumulated aches and pains from the weeks gone by.

Lucifer felt the aches and pains go away, sighing at the contact peacefully as he leaned into Gabriel.

Gabriel finished and pulled back. “There, that wasn’t so bad. Was it?”

Lucifer shook his head shyly, leaning forward to keep contact with Gabriel. “ Sorry .”

“Nothing to be sorry about, Sweetheart.” Gabriel gathered him into his arms and held him until the tub had finished filling, then with a flick of his wrist and a bit of Grace he shut off the faucet. At the same time, his own clothes disappeared with a thought. “Bath time.”

Lucifer nosed into his shoulder with a content sort of hum, still not fully relaxed but not tense and hurting as he had been earlier.

Chuckling, Gabriel scooped him up and stepped into the tub. “Full princess treatment it is.”

Lucifer gave a soft giggle, burying his face into Gabriel’s shoulder when he realized the sound that he just made.

Sinking down into the hot water, Gabriel let out a sigh of pleasure as he nestled Lucifer between his legs so that he could rest against Gabriel’s chest. Grabbing the sponge from the side of the tub, Gabriel drizzled water over his brother’s shoulders.

Lucifer shivered and arched his back into the warm water trailing down his back, resting his head on Gabriel’s shoulder.

Gabriel spent several long moments enjoying the quiet sounds of water dripping back into the tub and Lucifer’s breathing. He thought back to the many times they’d been in the tub together, the good and the bad. One such memory was of Lucifer in a much younger mindset than he was now. A persona that Gabriel hadn’t seen surface in quite a long time and it made him wonder. “Heylel, can I ask you a question?”

“Mhm.” Lucifer hummed lazily, relaxed enough to truly enjoy what was being bestowed upon him.

“You haven’t gone little in a long time. Maybe since before Gumdrop.” Gabriel rewetted the sponge and started washing each of the fingers on Lucifer’s hand. “I was just wondering why?”

Lucifer hummed as he watched Gabriel wash him. “Me going little was a way of reminding myself of unconditional love and how it felt.” He murmured. “When I became a parent again, it was like. . . Well, I’m not quite sure how to describe it, but it was like the puzzle came together. I didn’t need to go down. It just. . . disappeared.”

“That makes sense.” Gabriel nodded and pressed a kiss to his temple. “And just in case I haven’t said it lately, you’re an excellent mommy.”

“Thank you,” Lucifer said, wiggling into Gabriel’s hold. “Do you miss me being little?”

Gabriel thought about it for a moment, then shook his head. “No, I don’t miss it. Probably for the same reasons you don’t need it. We have three adorable kids. Heck, even me and Sam have stopped with the ‘Daddy’ stuff. Not consciously, it just happened.”

Lucifer nodded and sighed into Gabriel’s hold again, closing his eyes. The weight of his collar on his neck was soothing him, lulling him into that special place that he needed to go sometimes.

Wandering hands slipped beneath the surface of the water, trailing the sponge around Lucifer’s hips while teasingly avoiding his groin.

Lucifer groaned and buried his head into Gabriel’s shoulder.

“Does my sweetheart want a treat?” Gabriel whispered in his ear as his hand circled closer toward Lucifer’s cock.

“Yes, please.” Lucifer moaned, his hips unconsciously stuttering.

Abandoning the sponge, Gabriel ran his fingers through the coarse hair at the base of Lucifer’s cock, his fingertips brushing up against the slowly filling length.

Lucifer shivered and moaned, his eyes closing as he took what Gabriel gave him.

Gabriel wrapped his hand around Lucifer’s cock, enjoying the feel of it filling his palm as he tugged languorously until it was hard and pulsing beneath his fingers. “That’s it, sweetheart. Gonna make you feel so good. Any way you want.”

Lucifer moaned and rocked up into Gabriel’s hand, turning his head to huff and pant against his brother’s neck, hips rolling in time with his mate’s hand. “M-m-malachi,” he stammered.

“What do you need, Heylel?” Gabriel asked, his voice low and seductive as his free hand rubbed over Lucifer’s chest, stopping periodically to delicately pinch a nipple.

Lucifer whined and arched his chest into Gabriel’s hand. “M-m-more.” He stuttered. “P-p-please!”

“More of this?” Gabriel asked as he dropped his mouth to Lucifer’s shoulder and nipped lightly at the curve leading to his arm. “Or maybe this.” He gripped his brother’s cock tighter as he used his Grace to prod and push against Lucifer’s hole until it slipped inside, mimicking one of his fingers.

Lucifer gasped loudly and writhed on Gabriel’s Grace, embarrassingly close and trying to hold on. Not having had a true release in so long meant he had a lot of energy built up.

Gabriel sped up his hand and thrusts, the phantom appendage swelling within Lucifer and curving to brush against his prostate. “Gonna cum for me, sweetheart? That’d be so gorgeous, you making a mess of my hand. Screaming so loud that Sam would wonder what kind of bath we’re having.”

Lucifer nodded his head rapidly, whimpering as he squirmed. “M-m-mmmalachi!” He whined.

“Then let go, Heylel.” Gabriel pressed his lips to the shell of Lucifer’s ear. “Show me what a good boy you are.”

Lucifer erupted, screaming loudly as his back arched and he spilled into Gabriel’s hand and the water, violent shakes passing through his body.

Gabriel purred praise and encouragement into his brother’s ear as he continued to stroke Lucifer until the last tremor rattled through him. Gently releasing him, Gabriel pressed a kiss to the side of his neck. “Feeling good, sweetheart?”

Lucifer groaned and rested against Gabriel bonelessly. “Mhm.” He hummed.

Snapping the water clean, Gabriel laid back with Lucifer held close as he ignored the neglected ache between his legs. They stayed that way until Sam knocked on the bathroom door and leaned against the open frame, an amused smile twitching at the corner of his mouth. “I have some food ready when you two are done making so much noise.”

Lucifer hummed and cuddled more into Gabriel. “His fault.” He murmured, closing his eyes.

“I don’t doubt it.” Sam laughed when Gabriel stuck his tongue out at him. “Just don’t turn into prunes and I’ll be downstairs.”

Lucifer gave a thumbs up and cuddled more into Gabriel.

Peeking out of the bathroom, Gabriel choked back a laugh when he saw Sam sneak a pair of leather pants from the dresser and leave the room. He was quite sure that Sam had more than dinner planned but he hadn’t thought it would involve his more colorful wardrobe.

Lucifer hummed and cuddled more into Gabriel with a purr. “Are we getting out soon?” He asked softly.

“Probably should, especially if Sam cooked. It may be burnt but he tries.” Gabriel said with a sigh. “Sit up a little and I’ll get you a towel.”

Lucifer sat up and cracked his back.

Crawling out of the tub, Gabriel gathered up two of the softest towels they had and opened them up. “Come on, sweetheart. Time for a rub down.”

Lucifer slowly got up and out of the tub and shuffled lazily over to Gabriel and the towels without a second thought.

Humming one of Lucifer’s favorite songs, Gabriel worked on absorbing every drop of water from his skin before wrapping him in the second dry towel. “Ready to eat?”

Lucifer nodded, resting his head on Gabriel’s shoulder. “Yeah.” He mumbled.

“Alright, let’s go.” Gabriel wrapped his arm around Lucifer’s shoulders and led him downstairs where Sam was waiting patiently in the leather wingback chair that his older mate was fond of. The hunter’s lower half was encased in buttery soft, black leather pants and nothing else covering his body. His bare toes curled and uncurled absentmindedly in the shag carpet as he read a book of poetry.

Lucifer, surprisingly, became rather shy and attempted to hide behind Gabriel, cheeks blooming pink as he looked at Sam. If he thought the man of leisure look suited him, it definitely suited Sam and for some reason, it made Lucifer a bit shy.

“What’s wrong?” Gabriel asked, confused at first and then chuckling when he discovered that Lucifer was shying away from Sam. “You’re not scared are you, sweetheart? It’s just Sam looking positively fuckable.”  

Lucifer shook his head, giggling quietly as he peeked at Sam from behind Gabriel. Being pampered and having his mates’ attention focused on him, even after all these years, made him feel rather shy before he dove into a deep headspace.

Looking up from his book, Sam smiled and held out his hand. “Come here, baby. I’ve got some tasty things for you that I found in the pantry.”

Lucifer shyly made his way from out behind Gabriel and walked over to Sam, taking his hand while holding his towel tight around him.

Sam patted his knee softly and gently urged the angel forward. “You smell wonderful. Did Gabriel use something new in your bath?”

Lucifer shrugged, not knowing, as he slid onto Sam’s lap as he held his hand. “I dunno.” He said shyly.

“It doesn’t matter, I guess,” Sam said as he leaned up and kissed the curve of the angel’s jaw. “Do you feel better after a nice long soak, baby?”

Gabriel crossed the room, snagging a cookie from the plate Sam had laid out and snapped up a selection of fruit along the way, knowing that Lucifer sometimes preferred fresh over packaged foods. Stretching out on the rug in front of the cold fireplace, he contented himself with nibbling at the edges of the cookie while the towel around his waist did nothing but thinly veil his nudity beneath.

Lucifer nodded as he tilted his head back for Sam’s kisses. “Yeah.” He mumbled.

“Good.” Sam reached out and picked up a slice of dragon fruit and restrained the urge to roll his eyes at Gabriel’s sneaky additions. He lifted it and offered the fruit to Lucifer, delicately running the edge over his bottom lip.

Lucifer began nibbling on the dragonfruit, his eyes fluttering shut in happiness as the juice ran down his chin.

“Have I told you today that I love you?” Sam asked as he swiped away the drop of fruit juice and sucked it from his finger. “Because I do. I’m one of the luckiest damned men on this planet to have angels like you and Gabriel.”

Lucifer smiled and blushed prettily, eyes round and doe-like as he nibbled more on the slice of fruit.

“I wonder if you understand why we’re really here, Heylel. Why we took you away from the bunker.” Sam asked.

Lucifer shook his head in response to Sam’s question. Finished with his dragonfruit, he leaned over to grab a slice of pomegranate.

“You were working yourself into the ground. Ignoring mine and Gabriel’s offers to help with the twins and Mary.” Sam took a deep breath and gently stroked along Lucifer’s knee. “It was too much, Heylel. For you and us, so much so that Dean came to us and arranged to take care of the kids so we could get you to slow down.”

“But it’s my job.” Lucifer protested quietly, nibbling on his pomegranate. “That’s what I do. I tend the nest in all its parts.”

“Not by yourself, sweetheart,” Gabriel added from his spot, his head propped up in the palm of his hand. “We’re bonded and mated, yes? Nest mates. Doesn’t that mean we have a responsibility to care for the very same nest?”

“In different ways.” Lucifer murmured, finishing up his pomegranate and now leaning over to get a slice of grapefruit and some sugar.

Sam intercepted his reach and dipped the fruit in sugar before feeding the piece to him. “We’re not traditional, Heylel. Never have been. So isn’t it time we are allowed to take some of the weight of responsibility from you so we all can enjoy our children and marriage?”

Lucifer had no answer for that. Instead, he nibbled on his grapefruit. He knew his mates were right but he couldn’t help it. It was a compulsion to do everything himself when a child came into play.

Knowing that this would eventually lead to an argument that could last far beyond their weekend, Gabriel sat up and moved to kneel at Sam’s feet.

Lucifer nibbled more on his grapefruit, his shoulders tensing ever so slightly.

“I��ll make you a deal, Heylel.” Gabriel started, his hand resting on Lucifer’s knee. “During the week you can do as much of the work as you see fit, but we get to help with bathtimes and meals like we used to do with Mary. Then on the weekends, you relinquish all responsibilities and take the time off. You can tend your gardens, or we could go out as a family to the park or movies. Anything you want.”

“That sounds reasonable, baby,” Sam said, his hand rubbing across his shoulders to ease the tensing muscles.

Lucifer frowned, not liking the idea but not wanting to throw it completely out. Finishing off his grapefruit, he snagged an apple quickly and began nibbling on that.

Gabriel deflated when Lucifer didn’t immediately answer and slumped down onto his heels. “You don’t like it.” He sighed. “I knew there was a reason that Heaven always had nurseries.”

Lucifer nibbled on his lower lip anxiously when Gabriel said that and he let loose a soft whimper. He felt like his mates were mad at him for not wanting to catch a break, for wanting to do it all himself and he tensed more under Sam’s hand, lowering his eyes.

Sitting up, Sam wrapped his arms around Lucifer and rested his chin on his mate’s shoulder. “We worry about you, baby. That’s all. We love you and want you to be happy. Just like I want Gabriel to be happy. If you two aren’t, then I’m not doing my job either.”

“And I know how you think, Heylel. You’re kicking yourself because you think we’re pissed.” Gabriel interjected. “We aren’t. Not in the least bit. It’s just frustrating to feel useless and shoved aside because your mate is an overachiever.”

Lucifer gave a quiet sniffle, still looking down and away from his mates. “It’s a compulsion.” He whispered softly, barely heard by any ears. “One that I don’t mind, but it’s a compulsion and I can’t turn it off. It’s what I love doing. I love taking care of house and home, and children.”

“Then we’ll have to help you quiet yourself during the week so you don’t run yourself ragged,” Sam promised with a kiss to his cheek. “Even if it’s surprise blowjobs in the laundry room.”

Lucifer gave another quiet sniffle. “And on the weekends?” He prompted.

“If you feel the need to rearrange the pantry for no other reason than the salt is on the wrong shelf, then so be it.” Gabriel said, “But after the kids are in bed, that’s our time. The three of us. Don’t get me wrong, a handy in the dark is nice but I miss more vigorous activities. I know Sam does too.” Gabriel lifted a sly eye and smirk to his taller mate.

Lucifer sniffled again, a silent tear rolling down his cheek. He felt like he had failed his mates, failed to care for them the way they needed to be cared for. He returned his teeth to his apple nibbling, remaining silent in agreement.

“Hey,” Sam whispered, brushing the tear away with his thumb. “Don’t cry, baby. You’ve not done anything wrong. If anything, we did wrong by you by not realizing sooner and taking care.”

Lucifer’s eyes followed the path of Sam’s thumb wiping his tear away and inhaled raggedly. “Okay.” He whispered softly.

“I’ve got something for you if you like.” Sam picked up the poetry book he’d been reading and opened it, reading aloud. “Touched by an Angel, by Maya Angelou…”

Lucifer leaned into Sam, curling up on his lap and resting his head the best he could over his youngest mate’s heart, still nibbling on his apple.

When Sam was done reading, Lucifer was snuggled in Sam’s lap, listening to his heartbeat with his eyes closed. His apple had been finished by the time Sam had read the first stanza, but he hadn’t wanted to move. He stirred slightly from his content doze to place a soft kiss on Sam’s shoulder.

Sam had finished the poem long before Lucifer woke and had drifted off himself while Gabriel had gone upstairs to dress and make sure the nest was in a sleeping condition. Inhaling sharply, roused from sleep at the touch of Lucifer’s lips, Sam opened his eyes and returned the kiss to the top of his mate’s head. “Good nap?”

Lucifer nodded and snuggled more into Sam, having missed being enclosed in his mate’s strong arms like this.

He would have been content to stay in the chair a bit longer, but the call of nature and a stiff leg begged for him to move. “I’ve got to get up for a few minutes. You want to stay down here or go find Gabriel?”

Lucifer hummed in contemplation. “Gabe.” He mumbled.

“I think he’s up in the bedroom if you want to go surprise him,” Sam said with a pat to Lucifer’s thigh.

Lucifer slowly and reluctantly got up and made his way into the nest. Spying Gabriel naked on his back in bed, he slowly approached, watching Gabriel stroke himself.

Gabriel arched up into his hand, his mouth going slack as a pleasured moan escaped his lips. The slick sound of his hand gliding along his shaft barely heard above his fast breathing.

Lucifer wondered what his brother was thinking about. He felt himself filling out underneath the towel as he contemplated how best to surprise his mate.

“Heylel.” Gabriel groaned as his legs fell open, exposing himself to Lucifer’s gaze as his hips rolled down, while the fingers of his free hand drifted down to tease the rim of his hole.

Lucifer wet his lips with the tip of his tongue. Walking around to the side of the bed, he leaned down and kissed Gabriel softly, sweetly.

Jerking in surprise, Gabriel looked up at Lucifer with a wide-eyed expression. “Luci!” He squeaked out and snatched his hands away from their task. “I was just making the bed.”

Lucifer smiled and slid into the bed beside his brother, going back to kissing Gabriel, letting him know that he wasn’t upset or anything. The towel gave way and Lucifer sighed at the skin on skin contact.

It took him a moment to catch on, but when Gabriel did he melted into Lucifer’s touch. Cupping the back of his neck, Gabriel held his brother close as he sipped at the kisses offered him like they were water and he was a man traveling across the desert.

Lucifer pressed himself against his brother, laying his arms loosely on Gabriel’s hips as he relaxed in his mate’s arms.

“Missed this,” Gabriel whispered between kisses. Turning onto his side, the younger angel’s leg slid up along Lucifer’s as he reveled in the warm, supple feel of his toned muscles. “Please...” He pleaded quietly, needing more after having worked himself up over the past half hour.

Lucifer, however, wanted to take his time. Still kissing Gabriel, he let his hands and fingers roam up and down Gabriel’s body, reacquainting himself with every nook and cranny of his brother. He wanted to touch, to feel, to taste. To savor as he needed.

Gabriel couldn’t help but let out small mewls and whimpers as he pushed into every touch and kiss until he was quaking with want.

“Have pity on him.” Sam’s soft voice lilted from the corner where he’d silently seated himself when he’d finished in the bathroom.

“Wanna savor,” Lucifer whispered, kissing down Gabriel’s neck now with a trail of soft kisses.

Gabriel tilted back his head with a sigh, rolling his hips toward Lucifer in an effort to get some kind of relief. “Gonna explode if you savor.”

Lucifer placed a series of kisses along Gabriel’s collarbone, licking the sweat gathered in the hollow of his throat.

“That would be something to see.” Sam teased with a smug smirk. He slouched down in his seat and tugged at the leg of his pants to relieve some of the constrictive pressure on his growing erection.

Lucifer was now kissing across the expanse of Gabriel’s chest.

Threading his fingers through Lucifer’s hair, Gabriel tugged on it gently to urge him on.

Lucifer groaned and looked up at his brother with bright blue eyes full of sweetness and the need to make whatever this was last.

“I love you, sweetheart.” Gabriel groaned. “I really do. But if you don’t get inside me I’m going to take matters into my own hands.”

Lucifer brought himself up and kissed Gabriel gently. “I want to make love, Malachi.” He whispered.

His brother’s words made him pause. Lucifer had never asked to make love. If it happened, it happened but was rarely actively discussed.  Gabriel felt his heart swell with adoration as he ran his knuckles over Lucifer’s cheek. “Okay.” He responded meekly.

Lucifer purred softly, closing his eyes at his brother’s touch and he leaned in for another soft kiss.

Gabriel had to hold back his desire to devour Lucifer in his enthusiasm. With a slow exhale through his nose, he parted his lips to flick the tip of his tongue against his brother’s bottom lip, tasting a faint hint of the fruit he’d eaten that afternoon.

Lucifer sighed happily as he kissed Gabriel, opening his mouth slightly in invitation.

Licking his way into Lucifer’s mouth, Gabriel’s tongue massaged alongside Lucifer’s as he rolled to his back so that his brother slotted between his opened thighs.

Lucifer groaned and ran his fingers down Gabriel’s sides.

Rolling up against Lucifer, Gabriel clutched at his shoulders as he gently nipped at his bottom lip.

“How do you want us?” Lucifer whispered, his eyes fluttering in pleasure.

Humming, Gabriel kissed his way along Lucifer’s jaw until he could capture his earlobe between his teeth, sucking lightly on the bit of his brother’s ear. “As long as you’re inside me, I don’t care.”

Lucifer smiled softly. Gently, he turned his brother around and curled his legs up, so his knees were touching his chest. Slotting himself behind Gabriel, he slowly slid in two magically lubed fingers inside his brother.

A breath was punched out of the sandy-haired angel when he felt himself being breached for the first time in months by someone other than himself. The corner of the sheet crumpled into his palm as he gripped the fabric tightly while willing himself to relax and let himself feel.

Lucifer took his time to stretch his brother open, making sure he could fit up to four fingers comfortably. He relished in his task in making Gabe pant and mewl beneath him.

“Heylel… please.” Gabriel pleaded, unable to take the teasing sensation of Lucifer’s fingers plunging into him repeatedly when he knew there was something so much better in store.

Lucifer smiled and skated over Gabriel’s prostate before withdrawing his fingers. Grabbing the base of his cock, he glided into his brother’s waiting hole, groaning.

Gabriel let out a low moan as he was filled, the stretching burn was a welcomed sensation and one that made his cock leak precum on to his thigh. Opening his eyes, he caught sight of Sam still in his chair but with his fly undone, his cock standing hard and aching red in his hand. The hunter locked eyes with the trickster and winked as he thrust up into his hand in time with Lucifer’s first thrust into him.

Lucifer rested inside his brother for a few moments, breathing heavily as he wrapped his arms around him, holding him close. It didn’t take long though, for Lucifer’s hips to begin a steady, slow, hard rhythm that filled Gabriel up each and every time.

For lack of something to do with his hand that laid free against the bed, Gabriel grasped Lucifer’s, squeezing tight as each thrust drove wanton sounds from the archangel’s mouth.

Lucifer kept up the slow, hard pace he set, holding Gabriel’s hand as he held him close, peppering kisses over his skin as he made love to his brother, engrossed in showing him his love and devotion.

Craning his neck, Gabriel sought out his brother’s lips as he felt the tension of his orgasm growing in the pit of his stomach. “Close...” He warned with a groan.

“Then let go, whenever.” Lucifer returned, kissing Gabriel deeply and passionately.

At first, the kiss was a passionate clash of lips, teeth, and tongue but it soon devolved into Gabriel simply panting against his brother’s lips until his pleasure crested. Clenching tight around Lucifer’s cock, Gabriel moaned loudly as his body shook and he came across his own thigh and the sheets.

Lucifer groaned. He was close, oh so close. He just needed a few more thrusts. . .

From the corner, the sound of Sam’s voice moaning in tandem with Gabriel and Lucifer echoed from the walls. He’d been watching and enjoying every sigh and cry, but it was too much for him in the end. Sam came into his fist as his chest flushed a bright red, leaving him breathless and loose afterward. Taking a deep breath, he stood from the chair without bothering to clean off his hand and curled up behind Lucifer.

His cum soaked fingers probed gently at the angel’s hole. “That was fucking beautiful.” Sam murmured into his mate’s ear as he pushed two fingers into him. “Made me cum just from watching you two.”

Lucifer gasped and moaned, rocking his hips backward onto Sam’s fingers. “Sam.” He whispered, tilting his head back. The falling sun shining into the nest made the collar on Lucifer’s neck glitter and sparkle

Gabriel went to move away, but Sam stopped him with a word. “Don’t go, Gabe. Heylel needs to fill your tight little ass.”

“Oh fuck.” Gabriel moaned, his cock twitching at the thought.

Lucifer whimpered and clenched his hole around Sam’s fingers.

“Like that, baby? Gonna use Gabe to catch every last drop, aren’t you?” Sam whispered filthily to him as he curled his fingers to press against the angel’s prostate.

Lucifer gave a sob, hips stuttering into Gabriel’s. “Uh huh.” He moaned.

“I can feel how close you are.” Sam purred. “Do you want to cum, baby?”

“Yes, please.” Lucifer whimpered.

Sam eased in a third finger and started to thrust his hand hard enough to jar Lucifer forward. His fingers grazing over Lucifer’s prostate with every pass as he murmured in the angel’s ear. “Cum, Heylel. Give it to us.”

It took a few more thrusts but soon, Lucifer was cumming deep into Gabriel, curling into his brother more as he moaned and trembled with his release.

Sam kissed the back of Lucifer’s neck while slowing his thrusts so that his fingers simply slid in and out of him.

Gabriel gripped Lucifer’s hip as he rutted back against him until the last shudder passed and then he lay still, basking in the intimacy of being connected with Lucifer, and vicariously, Sam.

Lucifer laid still between them after a moment, breathing heavily and his eyes closed.

“Perfect.” Sam kissed the tender spot below Lucifer’s ear and slowly withdrew his fingers.

Lucifer yawned pleasantly and stretched, arching his back and making happy sounds.

Gabriel sighed as he shifted so Lucifer’s cock could slip free, then he flipped over to kiss his brother softly. “That was wonderful, Heylel.”

Lucifer returned the kiss and held his brother close.

“And what about me?” Sam teased as he propped up on his elbow to look down at them.

Gabriel turned a cheeky grin to the hunter. “You make an awesome sex toy.”

Lucifer giggled and looked up at his mate, puckering his lips for a kiss.

“Better to be a sex toy than alone in a corner abusing myself.” Sam shook his head before dropping a kiss to Lucifer’s waiting lips and then rolled out of the nest to get cleaned up.

Gabriel laughed and turned to Lucifer. “Do you ever wonder where he learns the old terms for stuff?”

Lucifer shook his head and cuddled into Gabriel.

.oOo.

The next morning found Lucifer laying down in the nest with one of his books and relaxing while his mates cleaned up from breakfast. They’d insisted that he take the time to do something for himself, even if it was only for a little while.

Sam was first to finish his chores and kissed Gabriel goodbye so the angel could run back to the bunker to check on everyone. The hunter considered sitting on the back porch to read a bit but after Gabriel left, he found the house too quiet and that he wanted to at least spend a little time with Lucifer, just the two of them.

Lucifer turned the page in his book, relaxing deep into the bed as he read on.

Stepping into the bedroom, Sam bit at his bottom lip as he watched Lucifer’s bare ass flex as the angel shifted to get in a more comfortable position. Unable to resist, Sam crawled up and nibbled at the tempting globe. “Whatcha readin’?” He asked.

Lucifer groaned, skin quivering underneath Sam’s lips. “One of my novels.” He murmured.

“Is this the one where the werewolf finds his mate and steals the poor human away to the woods?” Sam teased as he kissed one of the quickly fading bite marks. He knew that Lucifer tended to raid the supernatural romance sections of the bookstores and it was one of the more endearing, if not amusing quirks, the angel had.  

Lucifer shook his head. “Finished that one.” He murmured. “This one has vampires in it. And Wiccans. A female Wiccan falls in love with a male vampire in pre-revolutionary Russia.”

Sam chuckled as he dropped his forehead to the small of Lucifer’s back. “Please tell me the vampire doesn’t sparkle like the last one you read.”

“Can we not discuss the fact that I read Twilight? No, it’s a true vampire.” Lucifer said, turning a page. “Oh. Should mention that the vamp’s also Jewish. It’s rather entertaining, the way they’re dancing around each other because she’s trying to be respectful of his traditions while he’s attempting to be respectful of hers.”

“How romantic,” Sam said before licking a figure eight against his husband’s skin.

Lucifer shivered with a hum. “They’ll end up fucking.” He said. “There’s biting involved.”

“So you like biting?” Sam purred as he pressed his teeth against Lucifer’s hip.

“Baby, you know I do,” Lucifer said, squirming a little at the nip.

Sam ran his tongue along his mates crack, dipping his tongue between the angel’s cheeks. “And that?”

Lucifer groaned, his hips lifting to press into Sam’s tongue. “Hubby love, I’m trying to read.” He said, attempting to ignore his swelling member.

Parting Lucifer’s cheeks, Sam gently ran a finger over the exposed hole and smiled. “You don’t have to stop on my account.”

Lucifer moaned and pulled his book closer to him, tucking his arms underneath his torso as his eyes scanned the Cyrillic lettering intensely.

Pleased by his reaction, Sam leaned down and teased the tip of his tongue around Lucifer’s rim, seeing if he could elicit a reaction while the angel was reading.

Lucifer groaned and spread his legs apart

“I’m sorry. Did I break your concentration?” Sam asked as he repeated the motion with his tongue.

“You’re certainly making it difficult.” Lucifer moaned loudly.

Sam smirked as he laid down between Lucifer’s legs and took great delight in dragging every moan and sigh from his mate. His tongue circling around Lucifer’s rim before gently pressing the tip inside.

Lucifer whined and shakily turned the page in his book, starting to read aloud in hopes of distracting himself. The Russian language slid smoothly off his tongue.

“Oh god!” Sam swore when he heard Lucifer speaking. It was something that he didn’t admit often but he had a thing for foreign languages, and he blamed the angels for speaking Enochian during sex and basically conditioning him to the preference. Now it didn’t matter what language either one spoke, it never failed to send a thrill up his spine.

Lucifer smirked and kept reading out loud, his voice low and soothing.

Crawling upward, Sam covered Lucifer’s back with his body as he whispered into his ear. “You’re wicked.”

“So are you.” Lucifer hummed. “You said keep reading. So I did. Not my fault you got distracted.”

“Should I leave you alone then?” Sam asked as his hand skated along Lucifer’s side , his touch feather light.

“ Please don’t.” Lucifer hummed, arching into his mate’s feathery touch.

Sam started to kiss down Lucifer’s spine, taking the time to lick between each knob of his spine and back up again.

Lucifer groaned softly. “Do you want me to keep reading?” He asked.

“I honestly don’t think you could.” The hunter muttered as he slipped his hand down between his angel’s legs to stroke along the velvet soft skin of his balls. “Especially once I slide into you.”

Lucifer whined and rocked his hips back. He swore in Russian, the curse falling off his lips like wine.

“Patience, Beautiful.” Sam stretched up to the retrieve the lube from the nightstand, dropping a kiss to Lucifer’s shoulder as he moved. Slicking up his fingers, he slid the tip of his finger into Lucifer, not going any deeper.

Lucifer moaned and dropped his head down to his book, the words on the page swirling in a vortex. “Sam, please.” He whimpered.

Making a shushing noise and assuring the angel that he’d be taken care of, Sam eased his finger all the way in and slowly thrust. Usually, they’d fall into more ‘playful’ roles but today Sam just wanted to touch, taste, and make love to Lucifer. A part of him hoped that Gabriel would be detained long enough for the two of them to do just that.

Lucifer moaned and melted minutely in the bed. Shoving his book away from him, he closed it and slid it underneath his pillow so he could properly enjoy whatever Sam was giving him.

“Don’t want to read anymore, Baby?” Sam asked as he pulled his finger free and stroked over Lucifer’s hole with his index and middle finger.

Lucifer shivered and shook his head. “No, Sam. Just want you.”

“How do you want me, Heylel?” Sam kissed along his shoulder, his fingers spreading the lube around until Lucifer was slick and warm under his touch. “You can have me any way you want.”

“Like this, Sam. Just like this.” Lucifer moaned, warming up and flames spreading throughout his body as he became more and more aroused.

“As you wish,” Sam whispered as he pressed his fingers into Lucifer, slow and gentle. Twisting his wrist, he curled his fingers to seek out that small soft spot inside that he knew would make Lucifer melt and eventually quake with pleasure.

Lucifer cried out in pleasure as Sam’s fingers found his prostate and he arched back into Sam.

“There we go.” Sam pressed against the spot again and started to place open-mouthed kisses along Lucifer’s neck. “You feel so good, Heylel. Hot and tight around my fingers. Imagine how that’d feel with my cock inside you.”

Lucifer moaned and shivered, whimpering as Sam pressed down on it again. “Sam!” He moaned, turning his head to slot his lips with his mate’s.

Sam kissed Lucifer, long and slow. Taking his time to enjoy the slide of their lips against each other and the quiet huffing sighs as he brought his angel closer to the edge.

Lucifer moaned and whined into the kiss, holding himself up just so Sam had an easier time on his neck, whimpering as he got closer too quickly.

“Need you in me.” He whispered softly.

Withdrawing his fingers, Sam eased his sweatpants down around his hips until his cock was freed, hard and aching as it bounced against Lucifer’s crease. “Ride me, Heylel. I want to watch you cum.”

Lucifer turned underneath Sam, moaning as he felt their cocks slide together. “Are you gonna sit or lay?” He rasped softly.

Giving him a small kiss to his lips, Sam’s hand drifted along his hip. “Your choice.”

“I want you to sit,” Lucifer whispered softly, resting his hands on Sam’s shoulders. “Wanna feel every bit of you.”

Sam crashed their mouths together and wound his arm around Lucifer’s waist, pulling him up as he sat up. Urging the angel to his lap.

Lucifer crawled onto his lap and wrapped his legs around Sam’s waist, his hole teasing his mate’s cock as he kissed and sucked on Sam’s lips.

Gripping the base of his cock, Sam lined the head of his cock up and rolled his hips, pushing the tip against Lucifer. He sighed at the contact and cupped the back of the angel’s head as he flicked his tongue against his husband’s lips.

Lucifer opened his mouth and accepted Sam in both mouth and ass, sliding down his length slowly.

Sam moaned into the kiss as his fingers scratched their way down Lucifer’s back until the settled on the back of his shoulders where his wings would rest.

Lucifer moaned at the scratching as he settled on Sam’s lap, cock firmly lodged in his ass. He melted, feeling Sam encircle him, enclose him and he groaned as he was somewhat content to rest there for a few minutes basking in the feeling of safety and love.

Breaking from the kiss, Sam set about to kissing along Lucifer’s jaw as he subtly rolled his hips. Not enough to be a true thrust but to alleviate the throbbing in his shaft.

Lucifer tilted his head back and moaned at the light hip roll before giving one of his own.

“Give me your wings, Heylel.” Sam pleaded as he dipped his face into the crook of Lucifer’s shoulder with a groan, his hand petting over his back as if the hunter were trying to coax the angel’s wings into being.

Lucifer took a lungful of air and let his wings flare out, sleek and shiny with wing oil.

“That’s my Prince.” Sam sighed, his fingers diving into the feathers at the base of Lucifer’s wings, tugging gently only to immediately smoothing them back out.  

Lucifer gasped at the nickname and the gentle pull on his feathers. “Again.” He whispered softly, asking for both things again.

Smiling against Lucifer’s skin, Sam tugged at the feathers again. “Move, My Prince. I’m yours to love.” He murmured.

“My King,” Lucifer whispered, rolling his hips down and into Sam’s firmly, but slowly.

It’d been so very long since they’d been together like this, that it was a test of Sam’s will not to flip them over and take control. But this wasn’t just about him, it was about them . About showing Lucifer how much he loved him with each touch, kiss, and whisper of his name.

Lucifer rolled his hips slowly and firmly down into Sam’s, touching everything he can with his hands and lips, drinking in everything that Sam was giving him. His legs around Sam’s waist tightened as his nails dug into his mate’s back, pressing into him as much as he could.

“You feel so good, Heylel.” Sam groaned, his fingers slipping through Lucifer’s feathers until they rested on his oil glands, circling them and slicking his fingers. “You have no idea how much.”

Lucifer moaned and bucked his hips harder into Sam’s as he touched his oil glands. “Sam, fuck, feel so good. . . So good.” He managed to say.

Sam curled his arms around Lucifer, one hand resting on the small of his back guiding his movements. Pulling him closer, Sam pressed their mouths together, savoring the contact as the kiss deepened. The shift in position had the tip of his cock brushing across Lucifer’s sweet spot with each thrust.

Lucifer whimpered into the kisses, clinging to Sam with everything that he had as his hips rolled lightly, keeping Sam’s dick rubbing against his prostate as he devoured everything he had.

He tried to hold back for as long as possible, but the more they moved together the more Sam’s cock began to ache. An ache that spread into his groin until he had to pull from the kiss and pant to try and catch his breath or risk finishing before his mate. “Please tell me you’re close.”

“Fairly close.” Lucifer moaned, taking a huge breath of air. A small breathless laugh escaped him as he kept rolling his hips. “Wanna connect with Gabe’s part of the bond and make him cum in his pants like a teenager?” He asked.

Sam shook his head, a wave of possessiveness coming over him as he growled in Lucifer’s ear. “You’re all mine.”

Lucifer shivered and laughed. “All yours, my King.” He purred.

Groaning, Sam tucked his legs so that he could kneel, his arms braced around the small of Lucifer’s back to hold him up. With a quick bite to his mate’s clavicle, the human thrust up as hard as he could, driving his cock deep into Lucifer’s slick opening as a strained grunt fell from his lips.

Lucifer cried out and fisted his mate’s hair in both of his hands, trembling on top of Sam, unable to truly thrust and enjoying it. “Sam. . .”

“Come on, baby.” Sam urged on. “Cum for me. Wanna feel you squeeze my cock.”

���Say it again, please.” Lucifer whimpered on the brink.

“Say what?” Sam groaned as he teetered on the precipice of pleasure.

“The new nickname… Please, Sam, please!” Lucifer begged.

Sam’s dug his fingers into Lucifer’s hips and pulled him down against him, thrusting hard. “Cum with me, My Prince.”

Lucifer came, and he came hard, screaming out his pleasure as he shook and trembled against Sam.

Feeling Lucifer clamp down around him was the all he needed to be tumbling over the edge. With a final, hard thrust Sam came deep inside Lucifer as his teeth bite down onto the angel’s shoulder.

Lucifer finished his orgasm and leaned against Sam, panting and mewling softly, overly sensitive and yet having no feeling in his skin.

Sam came back to himself and realized what he’d done to Lucifer’s shoulder. Even though he was still a little punch drunk from his orgasm, he kissed the spot repeatedly while murmuring apologies.

“‘S okay, Sam,” Lucifer mumbled as he relaxed deeper into Sam. “Can’t feel no’in’ ‘cept f’r m’head.”

Laying Lucifer down with his head cradled on the pillows, Sam pressed a kiss to his forehead. “You okay, Heylel?”

Lucifer gave a little giggle and smiled sleepily up at Sam. “‘m fine, Sammy-whammy. Jus’ a li’l sleepy an’ I can’ feel...” He frowned briefly. “Things.”

“Poor little Prince,” Sam said as he shucked off his pants and covered them both with a thick blanket, pulling the angel into the little spoon position.

Lucifer dozed off in Sam’s warm arms, feeling warm and loved, opening his eyes when he saw Gabriel sliding in beside them a few hours later. “Hey, babe,” Lucifer mumbled, barely awake.

“Hey there,” Gabriel whispered so he wouldn’t wake Sam. “Looks like I missed the fun.” He said as his eyes ran over the teeth marks in his brother’s shoulder.

“Mmm.” Lucifer hummed happily . “Fun was had when he made me lose concentration on reading my latest novel.”

Gabriel smirked as he draped his arm over Lucifer’s waist below Sam’s arm. “So was it your plan to make Sam act out your vampire porn?”

“Jus’ because Joshua’s a vampire doesn’ mean it’s bitin’ porn, he’s no’ mar’d t’ Hestia,” Lucifer drawled. “So no.”

“That’s probably a good thing you didn’t, considering.” Gabriel teased, “So are we just gonna camp out in here for the rest of the day and night?”

“Mmmm, excellent idea.” Lucifer hummed, wrapping himself around Gabriel near to the point of suffocation. “Mine.”

.oOo.

Lucifer walked into the bunker with a sort of a dazed smile on his face, swooping in to blow a raspberry on Samson’s stomach, causing the infant to squeal in delight as did his twin before looking at Castiel. “How have they been, little moonlight?” He asked.

“Talkative, in their own way,” Castiel said as he rocked William. The seraph’s eyes looked tired like he hadn’t slept well for the entire weekend. “They do not care for Dean and made it painfully obvious.”

“They screamed their damned heads off,” Dean stated as he came strolling into the room with Mary Rose bouncing beside him.

“So you don’t want twelve just like them, Dean?” Sam asked with a knowing grin as he took the baby from Castiel.

Dean was about to answer when Mary Rose barrelled into Lucifer’s legs, hugging them tightly. “Mommy, Unca Dean took me driving in Baby and showed me how to use a sword.”

“Did he now, Princess?” Lucifer laughed, hauling his eight-year-old daughter onto his hip. “Did you have fun with Uncle Dean and Uncle Cas and your brothers?” He shot daggers at his best friend.

Mary Rose nodded while Dean shrugged unashamedly at the angel. “We had burgers too. Big ones with bacon, but babies can’t have bacon even if William chewed it like candy.”

“Seriously, Bacon?” Gabriel asked with a hint of laughter in his voice.

“Yes, which caused the babe to vomit later that evening from a stomach ache,” Castiel added.

“Whoa, wait a sec. Why am I getting the death glares and ‘Really, Dean’?” The eldest hunter asked as he backed away from Sam who was looked like he was about to smack him if it wasn’t for holding his son.

Lucifer took a deep breath and counted to ten before looking at Dean. “Because you fed a two-month-old bacon and let an eight-year-old drive?” He said in a thoughtful tone, one that said in not so many words you are an idiot Dean.

“To be fair it was Mary who gave William the bacon,” Castiel said as he flopped down into the nearest chair.

Dean crossed his arms over his chest, “And she worked the wheel while I worked the pedals for fifteen feet. Sam went a mile at that age when Dad did the same thing.”

Lucifer sighed and shook his head. “Just glad that everyone’s safe.” He said, kissing Mary’s cheek before looking over at a softly smiling Michael. “Micha, you’re smirking.” he accused his older sibling, whom he had barely noticed when he walked in. “What are you thinking?”

Michael didn’t bother answering Lucifer, just looked to Gabriel and asked. “He’s been working himself into the ground?”

Nodding, Gabriel gave the eldest Archangel a curious look. “How did you know?”

“Heylel did the same thing when Castiel was born. So I’ve been there and done that.” Michael turned his smirk back to Lucifer. “It was exhausting. Repeatedly.”

“Michael, shut your whore mouth.” Lucifer hissed.

Gabriel and Dean cracked up laughing while Sam blushed and hurried off to the nursery. Michael was about to reply when Mary Rose piped up as she clutched around Lucifer’s neck. “Mommy? What’s a whore mouth?”

Lucifer pursed his lips. “Mommy’s calling Aunt Michelle a very mean name because Aunt Michelle is being a pain in my butt like she has been ever since I was born.” He answered firmly. “Aka Mommy said a bad word.”

“Oooh.” Mary Rose said thoughtfully, “Do I have a whore mouth?”

Hearing her question, Michael, Dean, and Gabriel laughed even harder. Castiel even joined in with a concealed chuckle.

“No, you don’t, sweetheart.” Lucifer cooed, kissing her forehead. “Why don’t you go help Daddy Sam? I’ll help you with your homework in a bit.”

Castiel got control of himself as Mary Rose was put down and raced off to find Sam. The younger angel picked up Samson and patted the baby’s back. “I’ll put him down while you scowl at my mate,” Castiel muttered as he passed Lucifer.

“And your father.” Lucifer reminded Castiel. Waiting until all the children were out, he returned his glare to Michael. “I was not this bad when Castiel was born.” He protested.

“Oh no?” Michael challenged as she got her giggles under control. “You lost feathers to the nerves and stress. It took me sending Little Cas to Gabriel and ‘distracting’ you until you passed out.”

“I did not pass out.” Lucifer denied. “I remember that part clearly. You hit me in the head. And I didn’t lose feathers to stress, I lost them because I was molting. ”

A slow grin crawled across Gabriel’s face. “I remember that. And I don’t know what you two were up to, but I heard some distinctly enthusiastic screams all the way to the garden. Startled poor Joshua. And you weren’t molting, Lucifer. Molting looks like a pillow exploding. You lost them one by one.”

Dean wiped the corner of his eye as he choked back another laugh. “Now all I’m going to imagine is Lucifer running after his feathers and pushing them into a pillowcase.”

Lucifer glared at Michael harder. “He took away my Grace.” He snarled.  

“You didn’t seem to complain after the fourth orgasm,” Michael said as she picked up her jacket. “Gabriel, a word of advice from one who was mated to the Morningstar to the one who is. Pleasure him thoroughly and often, it’s the only way he’ll ever slow down enough to take care of himself.”

“We figured that out, don’t worry.” Gabriel slipped his arm around Lucifer and held him tight.

“There is no exchanging of secrets,” Lucifer said, shaking his head. “Michael, shut your mouth and wipe that smirk off your face, or I’ll tell about the time I had to tie you to our bed because you held all day inspections for the troops for, wait for it, four months.”

Michael tapped the side of her nose and put on her jacket. “Gabriel, be sure to give your human mate plenty of vitamins, he’ll need them to keep up. Especially when Heylel gets low on Vitamin D.” She turned and hurried toward the door before anyone, namely Lucifer, could retort.

Dean turned an amused look toward the angels. “Vitamin D, huh? Shouldn’t that be a W?”

“Why would it be a W?” Lucifer asked, fuming at the closed door.

“It’d be more like WD.” Gabriel snickered. “ ‘cause nothing calms the beast like a healthy shot of Winchester, the younger that is.”

“You both are disgusting perverts and the next time I see Michael I’m going to wring their neck.” Lucifer seethed.

“Oh, pull the stick out of your ass, Luci’. Or do you need a little ‘WD-40’ to help lube it up? He is that age now.” Dean said as he kept up the teasing.

Lucifer groaned and buried his head in his hands. “I’m going to go cook dinner now.” He announced, starting to head for the kitchen, frowning when he found Gabriel in front of him.

“No kitchen for you, Heylel. Not until tomorrow morning. That was the deal, right?” Gabriel asked with a wag of his finger.

Lucifer threw his hands in the air before turning to look at Dean. “A little help, please?”

“Dinner’s done and in the fridge to be warmed up. I made too much spaghetti last night.” Dean offered as he sat down and opened a magazine.

“Go,” Gabriel said as put his hands on Lucifer’s shoulders and pushed him toward the hall leading to the bedrooms. “Go cuddle a baby. We have three, four if you count Cassie.”

“Cas got his cuddles this morning,” Dean answered with a raised eyebrow. “If you catch my drift.”

“Gross,” Lucifer mumbled, walking towards the nursery. Squeezing in between Sam and Castiel, he nabbed the sleeping twins and took off for the bedroom with them to cuddle, Mary Rose tight on his heels.

[pinkbubbles-and-bigtroubles]

She’s Not Afraid (Girls Talk Boys part 21)

She's not afraid of all the attention She's not afraid of running wild How come she's so afraid of falling in love She's not afraid of scary movies She likes the way we kiss in the dark But she's so afraid of f-f-falling in love 

A/N I’m afraid to post links on these now, but you can always message me. I’m still trying to figure out how to do a masterlist

“I can't believe Camille is making us do the shopping” Cher grumbled as they pulled up to the store.

“You lot are the ones making her cook on one of her busiest weeks of the year, whatever that means.”Ashton came around to open her car door for her. That was something Cher didn't know guys did in real life.

Ashton grabbed a cart and Cher pulled up the shopping list Camille made on her phone.

“She really could've ordered this online.” Cher was still pouting.

“I'm pretty sure she just wanted to get everyone out of her hair.” Ashton chuckled. “She even chased Cal away so she could work.”

Cher huffed pouting until Ashton came up beside her. He gave her a quick peck on the cheek before murmuring in her ear.

“If you're a good girl today I just might reward you”

Cher felt her irritation vanish and she brightened up anticipating what kind of game Ashton might have in mind.

“Ok let me see the list.” Ashton took charge. “Potatoes, carrots, onions, and celery”

“Celery?” Cher made a face. “So gross”

“How can you hate celery” Ashton was amused.

“Celery is evil.” Cher put the veggies in the green cloth bag. “Any other produce or are we done with this one?”

“Yeah a bag of cranberries, two oranges, a lemon, 2 limes, and 3 green apples. What's with the different color bags?” Ashton was a bit puzzled.

“They're reusable so yay there's that.” Cher gathered up what she needed. “They are color coded so we know what department we need and where it goes in the kitchen. Green for produce, white for dairy, brown for deli meats. See these are insulated so everything stays cold. I can tell you we can skip the meat department because I don't have the yellow or red bag.” Cher checked the bag that held the bags.

“Did Camille come up with this?” Ashton asked clearly amused.

“She came up with the color system because she's paranoid about cross contamination. If you ever get that bitch started on e coli I will walk straight out of the room and leave you to your lecture. Once you get used to it it's really efficient.” Cher shrugged. “Ok baking stuff.”

She headed down the aisle.She grabbed the usual, flour, sugar, cinnamon, nutmeg and then a can each of condensed and evaporated milk.

“What's that for?” Ashton peeked in the bag.

“She's making a tres leches cake” Cher told him. “Ok it says oil but she isn't specific so I'm gonna get what's on sale. I never knew there were so many kinds. Coconut oil, peanut oil, sesame oil, almond oil. Wait isn't they what they used for our massage that day?”

“Let me see” Ashton stepped up behind her grabbing her hand with his as he pulled the bottle closer. For just a second he pressed his body into hers. It happened so fast she thought she imagined it except for the shiver that shot down her spine.

“Mmm maybe don't remember” Cher jumped at how close his voice rumbled next to her ear, but when she turned around he'd backed off and was studying the shopping list.

Cher frowned, perplexed but decided to keep moving. Ashton didn't stop. He kept touching her in little ways. His hand pressed just below the small of her back as he reached past her for the green beans. Little traces from his fingertips along her arms and wrists when he took the shopping list from her. “So what was your thanksgiving like as a kid? I know Cam has the big crazy family, but you don't talk about yours.” Ashton asked trying to make sure he didn't get sugar free Jello.

“Mom usually didn't cook. She did one time when we were teenagers and forgot to tell us. We didn't show up and she hasn't let us live it down yet.” Cher told him.

“You only have one brother right? Camille has two?” Ashton couldn't quite remember

Cher nodded. “A couple of times when we were in foster care we'd go down to the City Rec center and they'd have a big meal for all the kids in the programs. The food was actually decent and we always got a little present.”

She dropped a bag of pecans she was looking at. Ashton practically dove to pick them up the back of his hand brushing against her bare calf.

“What was that” Cher jumped at the touch.

“You dropped the nuts. You gotta be more careful with those” Ashton responded off offhandedly with the tiniest smirk.

“Mmm hmmm” Cher hummed her mind wandering.

“Are we getting a turkey?” Ashton motioned to the crowd forming around the employee bringing out boxes of birds.

“Nah, she ordered prime rib and a turkey breast from a butchers shop. I think she sent Calum to get that.”

“How do you like your new roommate” Ashton teased her.

“He's not over at our house that much really. They've almost got a schedule. Sunday night he comes over for football but doesn't stay the night because Camille works her ass off on Mondays. Tuesday is their day together usually at his place. Friday is date night. He bought me some kick ass noise canceling headphones so we're all good.” Cher shrugged.

She stopped abruptly when she saw a display for green bean casserole. Ashton, trailing behind, ran right into her. As he stumbled, catching himself by grabbing her arms, Cher felt the faintest touch of his lips against her shoulder. Or did she? It was maddening.

They finished shopping and loaded up the car. Cher was hoping Ashton might give her a hint at her reward. Instead he just turned the radio on and drummed his fingers on her knee along to the beat.

Getting back to the house Ashton had to admit the bag system helped in putting the groceries away. He also enjoyed that the kitchen was confined enough that he could “bump” into Cher several times while bending or reaching to get in the cabinets. It was killing him not to grin when he heard her little gasps when he touched her or saw the little glances she threw his way. He wanted so badly to pull her to the floor and take her right there in the kitchen.

He had to be patient. He had to keep her wanting. That was the only way to get what he wanted.

They'd just finished with the groceries when Harry knocked on the door. Cher was surprised to see him, normally he didn't get involved in the work side of the parties they threw. He'd volunteered to get the baked goods because he wanted Cornish pastries and sticky toffee pudding. Camille had agreed if he bought them she'd heat them up and make the sauce. She'd also gotten him to pick up a bag of yeast dough so she could make rolls.

It wasn't until Calum showed up with the butchers bags about 15 minutes later that Camille came downstairs. Cher was always amused when Camille came down from filming looking Hollywood from the tits up and couch potato from the waist down. Cher tossed her a bottle of cold water which she caught and chugged while making her way to Calum at the refrigerator. Camille gave Calum a kiss before greeting the other men.

“Harry thank you for getting this dough for me. I'm gonna make the sauce tomorrow just when these are heating up” Camille smiled at Harry.

“I hope you like the Cornish pastries” Harry grinned at her. “They're not easy to get out here.”

“I'm sure I will.” Camille peeked in the bag. “Ooh you got a chocolate cream pie. Cody is gonna love that.”

Ashton handed Camille a glass of wine.

“Thank you sweetie.” Camille turned to where he was standing next to Cher. “Ashton, thank you, seriously you're the only one I can trust with this.” Camille raised her glass before downing it.

“Guys seriously I have like five more videos to do and then I'm done for tonight. There are three games tomorrow and I have to do player forecasts as well as match up reviews. If y'all could peel and soak the potatoes and brine the turkey breast that would be awesome. I'm gonna finish filming. Give me about an hour and I'll be back.” Camille held her glass out for a refill before heading upstairs. Harry said his goodbyes and Calum followed Camille leaving Ashton and Cher in the kitchen alone again.

“You look really cute right now” Ashton smirked at Cher. He kissed her on her forehead “ok let's peel some potatoes.

Camille was touching up her makeup when she heard a knock on her bedroom door.  Calum entered and hovered by the edge of her bed.

“What's up sexy man” Camille met his eyes in the mirror.

Calum hesitated and Camille saw the frown on his face. She stopped and turned around. “What is it? What's wrong?”

“Well it's just, why did you say Ashton was the only one you trusted with this? You know you can trust me right?” Calum peeked up at her.

“Babe,” Camille stopped what she was doing “Did you want me to put you in charge of helping me plan thanksgiving?”

Calum shook his head.

“Ok so you didn't want to do it. I knew you didn't want to do it. You knew I knew you didn't want me to ask you to do it. If I asked you to do it you probably would've asked Ashton you help you right?” Camille raised her eyebrows and Calum nodded.

“Ashton and I have worked together before putting together parties and we're already talking about what we're gonna do for your birthday. So why don't you tell me what is really bothering you.”

Calum sighed and ran his fingers through his curls. He looked at her with those big brown eyes “it still bothers me that you're close to Ashton.”

“Come here” Camille told him and he crossed the room. “Ashton and I are friends. I'm dating his best friend and he's flirting with mine. You need to get past whatever this is.”

“Have you ever thought about fucking Ashton” Calum blurted out before biting his lip as if that could take it back.

“Of course” Camille shrugged “Luke too if I'm honest.”

“Luke? Seriously?” Calum's jaw dropped.

“I saw him run through the house naked and I've listened to him fuck so yeah Luke too. It was a moment. Both of them. I haven't tried anything. I haven't fantasized about them. I'm going to continue to be friends with your friends. That means Ashton.” Camille reached for the drawstring of his sweatpants.

“What are you doing” Calum's voice dropped lower.

“I think my jealous boy needs some attention so he knows he's the only one I want” Camille hesitated before sucking him off. “Just try to be quiet, please and don't touch my hair”

Thanksgiving day Camille had chased everyone out of the kitchen and had her music blasting. Cher and Calum were only allowed in for brief visits. Ashton had the prime rib in his oven. Luke had the turkey and Camille was baking. She'd made the cranberry orange relish the previous evening while punching down and measuring off her dough for the rolls.

Camille had taken a break to do a live interview on the day's games. Finally with work and the food finished and everyone slightly buzzed they could sit down too eat. Camille sat at one end of the long “table” they'd managed to cobble together. Calum sat to her right. Beside him was Mikey, Crystal, Nick and Cody. Harry occupied the other end with Luke, Cher, Ashton, Tom and Lucy sat in order.

Lucy asked if she could say grace and then during the meal she suggested they go around the table and say what each one of them were thankful for.

Lucy stood up the pre dinner wine making her sway just a bit. “I'm thankful to have such good friends and my sweet baboo Tom”

Tom was next “I'm thankful for my career, my friends and my lovely Lulu.”

Then Ashton “I'm thankful we have new music coming out and that you girls showed up to make the place interesting again.”

Cher stood up “I'm not good at stuff like this. Ok let me think. I'm thankful for my Cody I'm so glad I'm out here with you. Vexxed is taking off and I'm friends with all of you which is crazy.  I've only been here since August but I never want to leave. Thank you Camille for dragging me out here.”

Luke was next “I'm thankful for my band, my Petunia and all the wonderful people I've met this year.”

Harry kept it short. “I'm thankful for finding decent Cornish pastries.”

Cody was more animated “I'm so glad you bitches moved out here. Y'all are killing it.”

Nick mumbled out “My career, um my boyfriend

It's been a good year.”

Crystal got choked up when talking about the past year but she managed. “Michael, for being my rock, my sweetheart, my everything.”

Michael followed that with talking about the adorable kittens they were fostering. “My band is fucking awesome, I have the best girlfriend I'm thankful to just be me right now”

Calum stood up leaned over and kissed the top of Camille's head. He looked at everyone and simply said “Her” before sitting back down.

Everyone looked at Camille. She stood up her knees weak. She didn't dare look at Calum. Releasing a shaky breath she found her voice. “When we moved here I never could've imagined all of this. I can't believe this is my life.” She looked at Calum “I can't believe any of this is real. This isn't supposed to happen to girls like me. If this is a dream y'all better let me sleep because I will hurt the person who wakes me up” She was interrupted by the alarm on her phone.

“Oh shit that's the rolls be right back” Camille ran into the kitchen.

After dinner and dessert most everyone hung out to watch football, have a few drinks and digest. Camille was yelling at the tv. Tom, Lucy and Calum were laughing at Camille. Luke had taken off to meet up with Summer who'd spent the day with her family. Harry, Mikey and Crystal were upstairs in the studio with guitars and gars. Cher wandered out back to find Ashton sitting by himself. She passed the blunt to him watching his fingers and lips as he held it and inhaled. His wrist wrapped around hers and he pulled her into his lap.

“What are you doing?” Che giggled with a sense of deja vu. Isn't this how it started with Luke?

“Giving you your reward kitten” Ashton whispered in her ear. His fingers gripped her hips. This definitely was NOT Luke. Luke had been giggly and shy. Ashton was smooth and very sure of himself.

“Straddle my leg doll, I want you to ride me “ It wasn't a request.

Cher hesitated looking back towards the kitchen.

“Do it now, before I change my mind.” Ashton dug his fingers in.

Cher adjusted herself as Ashton reached up under her skirt. His thumb brushed against her clit making her moan. He positioned her so that as he moved her hips back and forth she could feel her nerves brush against the bunched up fabric of her dress as he jiggled his leg. Cher whimpered and leaned her head on his shoulder. She could feel her orgasm start to build as she rocked back and forth.

“That's it kitten, you look so hot right now.  Make yourself cum for me.” Ashton kissed her neck making a moan escape her lips. “If you're not quiet I'll stop.”

Cher bit her lip and closed her eyes losing herself in the feeling.

Ashton pinched her thigh. “Eyes on me doll. I want you to look at me.”

Her brown eyes met his hazel ones filled with lust and amusement.

Ashton gripped her harder increasing the speed of her movements. He could tell she was getting close.

“That's it, let go baby. I wanna see you cum for me.” Ashton growled.

Cher felt herself tipping over the edge. Ashton watched her face as she climaxed trying not to cum himself.

He held her while she rode it out and then as she

came back to earth.

“Damn Ashton” Cher sighed when she could speak again.

“I told you kitten. It's daddy not Ashton, or next time I won't let you finish”

@biba3434 @vfdsstuff @babygirlcashton @toofadedtofight @kiiiimberlyriiiicker1995 @slimthicccal

[comicreliefmorlock]

Orthopedic Surgeons Like Pink Hair, Apparently

I have always wanted to be a redhead. 

My admiration of fiery locks stretches back to my earliest memories and my absolute adoration of Jessica Rabbit. (Which I mean everyone had that period of adoring Jessica, but...) And cursed with chestnut hair that had, in my mother’s words, “gold and red highlights” did not assuage this desire for flaming red hair in the slightest. 

Naturally, one would assume I began dyeing my hair the moment I realized such a thing was possible, but I wasn’t actually lured into the magic of hair dye until late high school. My sister-in-law--who remains the girliest person I’ve ever met--dyed her hair regularly, heard my profound desire to become a redhead and dutifully set about to fulfill said longing. 

My hair was red and I was astoundingly happy.

Thus began my dedication to the magic of some incredibly stinky chemicals making my scalp itch, my shower looking as if Lars Thorwald was my roommate and an increasing number of shirts with red/dark brown/pink stains on them. 

Now having naturally dark hair meant I was unable to achieve truly red hair. I’m talking flaming. I wanted there to be absolutely no doubt that my hair was RED. For a considerable time, however, I was a coward. I feared what might come if I were to attempt bleaching my hair to get that real red I was eternally chasing. 

Until 2011.

Working in an operating room meant two things specifically: a stringent dress code (mainly for the sake of safety--i.e. no fake nails) and a lot of flexibility in said dress code simply because focus was on patient care and not on making sure everyone followed the hospital code to the letter. 

[One example? I kept my nails black for a month, got acrylics (painted black) and policy changed so personnel who didn’t interact with patients were allowed to have acrylics. HAH. Make me follow rules? I’ll show you what’s what.]

I wasn’t intending on flouting the dress code when I bought a DIY bleach kit and a couple boxes of BRIGHT red hair dye. It was simple math--I’d dyed my hair black a few months back, wanted to go back to red and the only way to effectively do that was to strip off the black and give my red dye a fresh bleached blonde base to settle into. 

Now, you should probably have someone help when you bleach your hair for the first time ever. Preferably someone with actual experience dyeing hair (their own or someone else’s). My second ex had no experience whatsoever, but I blithely submitted my head to him as he slathered on the bleach. 

I hadn’t taken a couple of things into account. One, the bleached areas we started with were going to be saturated for muuuuuuch longer than the rest. Two, I hadn’t chosen a dark red dye. I’d gone for a bright, lovely RED-red, because every time I’d dyed my hair before, I’d always gone up a shade or two in order to get a brighter shade on my naturally dark hair. 

When the bleach was washed out, I was a punk dandelion. 

My hair went from bright yellowish-white at the crown to an amazing orange at the tips. I looked like a Q-tip on fire.

Needless to say, this was not what I’d anticipated happening post-bleach. However, I still had me two boxes of red dye (I always bought two because long, thick hair = needs lots of dye) and I could fix this. The red might be a little brighter than usual, but it’d cover up all the strange tonal areas and be a pleasant red. 

The result?

Pink.

Not just “pink” but neon rose straight through to pale pastel. There was no ‘red,’ that was not a shade that happened. Somehow, through the magic of inexpertly applied chemistry, I ended up with absolutely wild pink hair. 

Having committed this error of judgement, I had two realizations: it was Sunday night and I had less than 24 hours before I had to show up at work. In the conservative hospital. With the stringent dress code. 

Two possibilities presented themselves: run to the nearest store, grab dark red dye and hope for the best or cover up as much hair as possible with a scrub cap and wait out a few days to avoid burning my hair any worse than it’d already suffered. 

I slathered on conditioner like it was going out of style, used every bit of coconut oil I could and made sure I had the hand-sewn cutsey scrub caps available that one of the OR nurses had lovingly given me. 

Once I arrived at work and was faced with the woman who I have eternally proclaimed “Best Supervisor Ever,” I was struck with a guilty conscience. There was no way I couldn’t tell her about the mishap and let her know I was going to remedy this as soon as it was safely possible. 

So with only her in the office, I tugged off my scrub cap, unfastened the clip and revealed the elbow-length rush of sheer pink that my hair had become. Her response was to laugh so hard she nearly cried, all the while trying to gasp that it actually didn’t “look bad.”

As I’m sharing a laugh with her--because if I couldn’t laugh at myself, I’d be absolutely insufferable--the office door opens and one of the orthopedic surgeons walks in. He was one of the nicer doctors in the OR, always pleasant and treated the support staff with respect. 

And all he managed to say was “...it’s so pink!” 

He’d never seen so much pink hair before. He was fascinated. As I’m standing there between the printer and the desk, awkwardly trying not to laugh, he circled me, staring at the flood of pink that was floofing out over my shoulders. And then he nearly killed me by giving me the most Earnest Look and asking “...can I touch it?”

I, of course, said yes and his surgeon-skilled hands were immediately buried in my hair. He floofed it, fluffed it, held it up, turned it over and rubbed it between his fingers, all the while whispering “It’s so pink! ...and soft! ...and pink!”

This went on for a full five minutes. 

With my supervisor’s assurance that I wasn’t going to be fired for a “hair mishap,” I settled back in to work and my only concession to the whole thing was to make sure I wore a full-coverage scrub cap every day for the week or so that I gave my hair to recover. 

Except for what became the evening routine. 

Between five and six in the evening, the surgeon would come into view, peering towards the office from around the corner. He’d always check to make sure I was alone before creeping up to the window--open to let people hand in paperwork without breaking stride--and whisper “Can I?”

I nodded. And he’d dash around to the door, pop into the office and wait with eager anticipation until I’d gotten my scrub cap and hair clip off. 

And then he just went to town. This MD with decades of experience and specialized training, nearly in his early sixties, would stand behind me and act like my hair was a brand-new toy JUST like one he’d always wanted as a kid and now he could damn well have it. 

Floofing, flipping, petting, braiding, unbraiding, petting, smoothing, stroking my hair with an expression of absolutely childlike glee while whispering “...it’s so pink! ...and soft! ...and pink!”

The day I came to work with my hair redyed a more subdued, appropriate red, I saw what true disappointment looked like. He never asked to play with my hair again, but every so often, he’d bring paperwork to the office and say “It was just so pink.”

[littlej097]

A Year with the Anderson-Hummels - Week 5

Summary: It’s Lucy’s 10th’s Birthday and Kurt and Blaine want to make the day perfect for her. 

“So Lucy, your birthday is coming up in a few days.” Kurt began one night while seated at the dinner table. All three of the older kids were out, so it was just Kurt, Blaine and Lucy. “Do you have any idea what you want to do?” Lucy shrugged her shoulders.

“Papa’s right kiddo.” Blaine said. “This is a big birthday. Double digits. You must have something that you want to do or something you want.”

“I want a pony.” Lucy said, a smile on her face.

“Something that we can realistically buy.” Kurt told her.

“You can realistically buy me a pony if you try hard enough.” Lucy shot back.

“Nice try.” Blaine told her. “Pick again.”

“Okay fine…” She sighed. “I don’t really need to do anything big. I just want to have a few friends over for a sleepover.”

“Now that sounds perfectly reasonable.” Kurt told her. “Who would you like to invite?” he asked.

“Ummm….Maisie, Riley, Sophia.” Lucy told them.

“Perfect!” Kurt said. He loved all three of those girls. They were all so sweet and polite.

“And Dakota! I want to invite her too.” Kurt looked over at his husband who had visibly tensed up.

“Dakota? I thought you guys weren’t friends anymore?” Blaine asked.

“We made up.” Lucy told them very matter of factly. “And I really want her to come to my birthday party.”

“Okay, honey. Of course she can come.” Kurt told his daughter, which earned him a glare from Blaine. Kurt knew exactly why his husband was upset. Dakota Carlyle was the daughter of Gwendolyn Carlyle who was head of the PTA and resident bitch at the kids school. Since Kurt had gotten his promotion, Blaine had been the one to deal with the many demands of their children's school, which meant he had spent his fair share of time dealing with Gwendolyn Carlyle.

“I can’t stand that woman!” Blaine told his husband later that night while they were getting into bed. “She thinks she’s better than everyone else and thinks she runs the whole school.”

“Well, she kind of does.” Kurt muttered.

“And I’ve met Dakota!” Blaine said. “She’s a little brat! I don’t even know why Lucy wants to be friends with her.”

“I don’t know, but we can’t tell her who she can and can’t be friends with.” Kurt reminded him. “It’s one night that we’ll have to deal with her. So for now, shhh,” he said as he held a finger to his lips. “Just got to sleep.” Blaine let out an angry huff before scooting closer to his husband.

“But I just want to say..”

“Shhh”

“But-”

“Shhhh!” Kurt told him again. “Sleep.”

Over the course of the week, Kurt, Blaine and Lucy got together stuff for her birthday party. She wanted pink streamers and balloons. They also got a large foil one and zero balloon. Lucy had decided on a chocolate cake with vanilla icing that was also pink, which wasn’t a shocker. Things were really starting to come together...until Lucy came home from school one day.

“Daddy,” she began.

“Yes, sweetheart.” Blaine replied.

“Dakota said that she’s a vegan and she’s also doesn’t eat anything with gluten in it. Is there gluten in my cake?” she asked.

“Umm… yeah. I think there is.” Blaine replied with a sigh, already knowing where this was heading.

“If she can’t have cake, what is she going to eat?” Lucy said, some panic evident in her voice.

“Okay honey, it’s okay. I’ll whip up some gluten free vegan cupcakes or brownies...or something.” Blaine told her.

“Do you have recipes for those?” she asked.

“No, but for you I will scour the internet for one.” Blaine pressed a kiss to his little girl’s head. “Go on and start your homework. Everything will be fine.”

“I love you Daddy. You’re the best.” Lucy replied before skipping off to her room to start her homework. Blaine rolled his eyes. Baking some weird vegan gluten free cupcakes hadn’t been in his plan for the day.

When Kurt got home later that even, he found Blaine in the kitchen. “What are you doing?” he asked.

“Can’t you tell? I’m making bullshit vegan gluten free cupcakes because over at the Carlyle house they’re vegan and gluten free. And because I love our daughter, I had to go through this shit to make sure that her friend had something to eat because she’s too good for store bought birthday cake.”

“We had the stuff to make vegan gluten free cupcakes?” Kurt asked. Blaine gave him a glare.

“Are you kidding me? No! We didn’t have the stuff.” Blaine exclaimed. “I had to go to some weird health shop twenty minutes away so I could get stuff like coconut oil, gluten free oat powder, and coconut syrup...which I didn’t even know was a thing! If you ask me, the vegans in this world are going to take out all the coconuts. Coconuts are going to be an endangered fruit!” Kurt couldn’t help but laugh. “It’s not funny Kurt!”

“No honey, I’m sorry. You’re right. It’s not funny.” Kurt said, though he could barely contain his laughter.

“It’s that Gwendolyn Carlyle! Who makes a kid eat like this? Our kids aren’t vegans and they eat a hell of a lot of gluten and they’re just fine!”

“Well, how are they coming out?” Kurt asked.

“They’re going to be great! Because I am a great baker...much better than Gwendolyn Carlyle. I just need to pour them in the pans.” Blaine added. He walked over to the cabinet above the fridge and reached up high. He could see the cupcake pans, but they were just out of his reach. He went up on his tippy toes and reached even further but he still couldn’t reach them.

“Do you need me to get it for you?” Kurt asked.

“No! How dare you insult the vertically challenged!” Blaine retorted. He continued to reach for the pans. Kurt watched as his husband struggled, his tongue poking out of his mouth. He only did that when he was really focusing on something. After a few seconds, his husband relaxed and his shoulders slumped forward. “Okay...help me.” he muttered. Kurt gave his husband a smirk and walked over. He grabbed the cupcake pans with ease and set them on the counter.

“Anything else hun?”

“No. Leave me and my lack of height alone so I can finish these bullshit cupcakes.” Blaine muttered.

“Will do. I’ll be in the office if you need me.” Kurt told him before disappearing down the hallway. If Kurt knew one thing for sure, Lucy’s birthday in a few days was going to be interesting to say the least.

Saturday came and it was time for Lucy’s party. She was so excited that she was practically bouncing off the walls. “What time are my friends coming Papa?” she asked.

“They should be here by four.” Kurt told her. “And it’s almost time so they should be here soon.”

“We’re going to have so much fun!” The almost ten year old exclaimed. Suddenly, the doorbell rang and Lucy ran to the front door with Kurt on her heels. It was her friend, Maisie. She was tall for her age with the most beautiful red hair that Kurt had ever seen. She was also the daughter of one of his coworkers at Vogue, Angela.

“Happy Birthday Lucy!” Maisie exclaimed as she extended a large purple bag to her friend.

“Thank you! Come in! You can put your sleeping bag in the living room.” Lucy told her as she took her friends hand.

“Hello Kurt,” Angela replied. “Thanks for inviting her. Maisie is so excited.”

“Well, we’re glad to have her.” Kurt replied.

“Where’s Blaine?” she asked.

“Oh, he’s out grabbing the pizza.” he replied.

“Hope you remembered to order a gluten free one without cheese.” Angela laughed. “I heard Dakota Carlyle is coming to the party.”

“Oh we know all about Dakota’s diet requirements.” Kurt confessed.

“Maisie had her over a few weeks ago. I have never met a brattier child.” Angela whispered so the girls wouldn’t hear. “And her mother...well don’t even get me started.”

“Sounds like you should be talking to Blaine. He’s not her biggest fan either.”

“Well you tell Blaine if he ever needs to rant to call me. We’ll get drinks.” Angela told him.

“I will I promise.” Kurt laughed. “Anyway, you can pick Maisie up around ten o’clock tomorrow. I’m sure they’ll have a great time.”

“Sounds good! Bye honey!” Angela said as she waved to her daughter and then left to get back in her car. Riley and Sophia, Lucy’s other friends showed up later. All four girls were playing happily when Blaine got back with the pizza.

“Pizza!” the four girls exclaimed.

“Whoa, whoa, hang on!” Kurt said stepping in front of his husband. “We should wait until Dakota gets here to eat pizza. That’s the polite thing to do.”

“But we’re hungry!” Lucy whined.

“I’ll put some chips in a bowl for you.” Kurt told his daughter as he opened a new bag of chips and poured them in a bowl for her.

“How long are we going to make them wait?” Blaine asked quietly. “The party started at four and it’s almost five. Dakota is an hour late.”

“We’ll give her like fifteen more minutes and then we’ll let them eat. Why don’t you stick the pizza in the oven until she gets here.” Kurt told him. They waited for another twenty minutes before the doorbell finally rang. Lucy got there first and opened it to reveal Dakota and her mother. Blaine and Kurt walked in soon after.

“Sorry we’re late.” Gwendolyn replied as Dakota rushed in the house with Lucy.  “We just plain lost track of time.”

“Yeah, we were wondering if you got lost.” Kurt said with a laugh.

“I told Dakota to text Lucy. It must have not gone through.” she said.

“Well, Lucy doesn’t have a phone...she’s only ten.” Kurt told her.

“Oops!” Gwendolyn replied. “Anyway, hello Blaine.”

“Hi Gwendolyn.” Blaine replied

“Looking forward to seeing you at the next PTA meeting. Maybe you can bring some of those delightful cookies you make.” She replied with a fake smile. Blaine knew she was lying. Stupid vegan would never eat his cookies.

“Yeah, maybe I’ll try.” he replied.

“Anyway, I’ll get going. I have a pilates class.” she said.

“Well have fun.” Kurt replied as he slowly began to close the door. After Gwendolyn left, it was just them and the five girls. They opened up the pizzas. Lucy, Maisie, Riley and Sophia all had pepperoni while Dakota had her special pizza. Then they decided to watch a movie in the living room.

“This is a really pretty purse.” Lucy said to Dakota while they were watching the movie.

“It’s Chanel.” she replied

“You named your purse?” Sophia asked sweetly.

“No! It’s a brand.” Dakota replied. “Not that you would know.” she muttered.

“Hey, what does that mean?” Lucy asked.

“I just means that she probably doesn’t have fancy brands like this. Her mom is maid at a hotel and her dad works a restaurant.”

“He owns a restaurant.” Sophia told her.

“Yeah and it doesn’t really matter what her parents do. What you’re saying is really mean.” Lucy told her.

“I’m not being mean. I’m just telling the truth.” Dakota said. “My mother tells me everything. She’s on a scholarship to our school because her parents can’t afford it, so why would they have fancy brands like Chanel. They’re obviously poor.” Lucy could tell that Sophia was getting upset.

“Dakota, just stop! You’re not telling the truth. You’re just being a bully.” Lucy shot back. “And Sophia is my friend! I don’t want you treating her like this.”

“I thought I was your friend!” Dakota demanded.

“You were, but I like being friends with bullies.” Lucy replied. Kurt and Blaine who heard the commotion came into the living room.

“What’s going on?” Kurt asked.  

“I’m going home! I’m going to text my mother!” Dakota said before she stomped down the hall and went into the bathroom.

“What just happened?” Blaine asked again. He looked over at Sophia who had tears in her eyes.

“Dakota was being mean to Sophia.” Lucy told them. “She was being a bully and I don’t like it when people are mean to my friends so I told her about it.”

“Sophia, honey, are you okay?” Kurt asked. The little girl nodded, though she still looked a bit shaken up to him. After about twenty minutes, the doorbell rang and Blaine opened it.  It was Gwendolyn Carlyle and she did not look happy.

“So, why did my daughter text me that she is being bullied at this party?” she demanded.

“Well...your daughter is not telling the whole truth.” Blaine shot back. “Dakota was the one bullying another girl at the party.”

“My daughter is not a bully.” Gwendolyn retorted.

“Okay,” Blaine sarcastically replied with a huff.

“What?”

“I just find it hard to believe that with a mother like you that your daughter couldn’t not be a bully.” Blaine told her. “Listen, I have dealt with bullies my entire life. Kurt and I have taught our children that the only thing that matters about a person is that they are genuine, kind and treat others with respect. And your child does not do that. Lucy has made her decision and I’ve made mine. You can take your daughter home. We don’t accept bullies in this house.”

“You are making a huge mistake.” Gwendolyn growled as she stepped further into the house.

“No, you are making a mistake if you think you are getting any further into my house.” Blaine growled back. “Take your daughter. Oh and you can take this bullshit gluten free vegan pizza because it tastes awful and get out of my house. Oh and by the way, I won’t be at PTA meeting so you’ll have to go without my cookies.”

“They weren’t good anyway.” Gwendolyn hissed.

“Oh, I’m so hurt.” Blaine replied sarcastically. “Just get out of here.”

“Dakota, let’s go.” Gwendolyn replied as she left with her daughter. Blaine slammed the door and went into the kitchen where Kurt and the other girls were waiting.

“Well, let’s not let that get us down. This is a party and I think it’s time for cake.” Blaine said. He went and got the pink birthday cake. They put ten candles on it and sang. Lucy was smiling from ear to ear and all four girls ate every bite of their cake. Clearly they didn’t care that the cake was store bought and not gluten free.  The rest of their night went smoothly. The girls all got along and they went to bed.

In the middle of the night, Blaine woke up and saw that his husband was not in bed. He padded down the hallway and found Kurt in the kitchen. He was eating one of the cupcakes that he had made for Dakota. “What are you doing?” he whispered so he didn’t wake up the girl.

“I needed a midnight snack.” Kurt told him. “These are so fucking good Blaine.”

“Well, I’m a fantastic baker.” Blaine replied.

“I might need to go vegan.” Kurt confessed.

“You take that back!” Blaine shot back.

“Have you even tried them?” Blaine shook his head and then took a bite of the cupcake that his husband was extending towards him. The cupcake was chocolatey and moist...and really good.

“Damn, they are good.” Blaine confessed. Kurt finished up his cupcake and threw it in the garbage before peeking into the living room. All four girls were sleeping peacefully.

“I’m really proud of her.” Kurt said. “...and you.”

“I’m proud of her too.” Blaine confessed. “And I’m happy that I got to tell off that bitch Gwendolyn Carlyle. Right now, i’m tired. Are you going to join me back in bed?”

“Of course I am.” Kurt said as he took Blaine’s outstretched hand. The two men walked back to the bedroom and settled into bed. They knew that the girls would most likely be waking them up either, but neither one of them cared. Both Kurt and Blaine were proud of their daughter. She stood up for her friends and did the right thing. She really was growing up...much too fast for Kurt and Blaine’s taste.

[365daysofj2]

Another Year Older (Library AU, 12/?)

Jared struggles to ring Jensen’s doorbell with one hand full of takeout bags and the other holding two wine bottles, also bagged, that he doesn’t want to bang around too much. He ends up just leaning his shoulder against the tiny switch instead. When Jensen opens the door, his face lights up. “Hey! What’s all this? I thought we were going out?” “Let me in and I’ll explain.” Jensen steps aside. “Here, let me take something.” Jared hands him the wine, which he carefully sets on the counter. Jared places the two takeout bags on the dining room table. “I chilled the wine as much as I could, but I only bought it two hours ago.” Jensen takes the bottles out of the bag and raises an eyebrow. “Cremant? I didn’t think you knew French wines.” “I don’t. I Googled “wine with sushi” and that’s what it suggested.” Jensen’s thousand-watt smile comes out in full force. After the dreary, stormy day they’ve had, it’s a welcome ray of light. “You brought sushi? I didn’t think you liked sushi.” “I don’t like the raw stuff, but there’s cooked stuff I like,” replies Jared. He starts unpacking the takeout bags. “I got shumai and soft shell crab, and then Sushi Deluxe for you, with the miso soup, and California rolls and coconut shrimp rolls for me.” “This is officially the best birthday I’ve had since I turned twenty-one,” says Jensen with a delighted smile. He crosses the room and throws his arms around Jared, kissing him breathless. “It’s the least I could do,” says Jared when Jensen finally lets him up for air. “I know it’s been a really rough couple of weeks for you.” “I haven’t even told you what happened yesterday,” says Jensen, his face clouding over. “You were in trainings all day.” “I got your text that said you banned Larry. Did something else happen?” Jensen nods. “He threatened to kill himself when Aldis tried to escort him out.” Jared’s mouth drops open. “You’re fucking kidding me.” “Nope. Aldis asked him if he was a danger to himself or others and he was so frantic that Aldis called for the ambulance anyway, but took him over to the DJ’s office to wait for it, so he was off property.” “God, I’m so glad you’re done with this shit for a year,” says Jared, rubbing a hand down Jensen’s back. “Come on, let’s eat. If the food doesn’t cheer you up, the wine definitely should.” Jensen goes back to the kitchen to pour the wine. Jared starts opening containers and separating the wooden chopsticks. But naturally, Jensen brings a wooden set with painted cherry blossom boughs to the table in a small wooden chest. “You know, you’re so pretentious that I should hate your guts, but instead I find your stuffiness incredibly endearing. What is wrong with me?” Jensen sets two full glasses of sparkling wine on the table. “I could reach for a cliche, like ‘love is blind’ or ‘opposites attract’…” He curves a hand around Jared’s neck and tilts his head up for a kiss. “But instead, I’m just gonna thank whoever’s up there for putting you in my path.” Jared grins. “Happy birthday, Jensen.” “Sure is,” replies Jensen with an even bigger grin. They both start eating then, dividing the shumai and crab appetizers between the two of them and then sorting out the various rolls. Jared ends up giving half of one of his coconut shrimp rolls to Jensen when he starts drooling over it. It’s a shrimp tempura roll with crab and coconut flakes and two different sauces on top, and it’s the whole reason Jared goes to Empire in the first place. Well, that and the half-price sushi Sundays. “It’s too bad your birthday wasn’t on Sunday,” says Jared. “We could have ordered even more.” “Oh, God, this is plenty,” says Jensen, wiping some stray dumpling sauce off of his chin. “This is amazing. Thank you so much. I know this wasn't cheap.” Jared smiles. “I’m full time now. I’m rolling in the dough.” Jensen laughs so hard he almost chokes on his spicy tuna. “We work for a nonprofit. Shit, even Jeff doesn’t make more than 50 grand. That’s gotta be about half what he’d make in a for-profit company.” “Did you talk to him yesterday?” “Yeah. I called him after Aldis removed Larry.” Jensen sets a shrimp tail back on his plate. “He was totally supportive. He said that the Reference department at ESA is buying us donuts, they’re so grateful to us for getting him out of their hair. And they only deal with him two days a week!” “Wow, are you serious?” Jared loses a piece of cucumber from his California roll and struggles to pick it up with the chopsticks. Jensen chuckles. “Yeah, he said Ruth would be by tomorrow with them.” “Man, I miss everything good.” Jensen stops with a piece of salmon nigiri halfway to his mouth. “I would have given anything to have you there with me,” he says, almost too softly to hear. Jared sets his chopsticks down and covers Jensen’s hand with his. “I’m really sorry I wasn’t there when you needed me.” Jensen shakes his head. “It’s not your fault. You did more than enough. You kept me from falling apart, and I’m incredibly grateful for that, because I don’t think I could have gotten through this without you.” His voice starts to shake on the last sentence. Jared stands up and steps behind Jensen’s chair to wrap his arms around him and kiss his jaw. “I will always be there for you. I promise.” “Thank you,” whispers Jensen. Jared kisses him once more and returns to his seat. They eat in silence, and when they’re finished Jared refuses to let Jensen help him clear the table. “It’s your birthday. You’re not allowed to do chores.” Jensen heads to the stairs and waits for Jared to tie up the full garbage bag. “When do I get to unwrap my present?” Jared follows Jensen up the stairs, and at the top he grabs him and throws him over his shoulder. “You may be the birthday boy, but I’m the one getting the present.” Jared charges into Jensen’s room and throws Jensen down on the bed. He jumps on top of him and unbuttons his shirt with lightning speed. In no time at all, Jensen is stripped bare and laid out beneath him, cheeks flushed pink to match the tip of his now-hard cock. Jared pulls his phone out of one pocket and connects it to Jensen’s Amazon Echo. He starts the playlist he made before he came, and soon Bad Company’s “She Brings Me Love,” bursts forth from the speaker. Jared reaches into his back pocket and pulls out his other surprise—a bottle of raspberry massage oil. He sets it on the bed next to Jensen and makes quick work of his own clothes, tossing them in the same pile as Jensen’s. Then he squeezes a dollop of oil into his hand and starts rubbing it into Jensen’s shoulders. “Mmm, smells good,” murmurs Jensen. “Sweet.” “You’re a sweet guy.” Jared gently blows on Jensen’s shoulders, eliciting a full-body shiver. Jared leans down and kisses a trail along Jensen’s collarbone, pausing at the hollow of Jensen’s throat to graze his teeth over the sensitized skin. Jensen moans and throws his head back, thrusting his neck even further into Jared’s grip. Jared gently bites down, drawing a hiss from Jensen, then soothes the area with his tongue. Jensen tastes like summer, sweet like a berry cobbler but with a hint of spice, that little tang of musk that’s uniquely Jensen. “You’re also the hottest guy I’ve ever seen, even if you are over the hill.” Jensen chokes out a bark of shocked laughter. “I’m not forty yet, asshole.” Jared frowns. “You’re not?” Jensen shakes his head, his hair tickling Jared’s forehead. “Nope. Thirty-nine.” “I think your birthday’s wrong in Sierra,” says Jared. “‘Cause it’s listed as 3/1/76.” “It’s 3/1/78,” replies Jensen. “I’ll have to go in there and fix it tomorrow.” He shakes his head. “Sierra issues. That’s, like, the least sexy topic in the known universe.” “No, the Dewey Decimal System is worse.” Jared grins. “Did you know that the Dewey Decimal number for sex is 649.65?” “And you call me nerdy?” Jensen mock-glares at Jared. “That’s it, you’re banned from speaking for the next five minutes.” Jared glares right back. He squeezes more oil into his hands and massages it into Jensen’s pecs, which are really firm for a thirty-nine-year-old Branch Librarian. He dabs a drop of oil onto each index finger and starts circling Jensen’s nipples, coaxing them into hardness. Then he takes one between his lips and starts flicking his tongue over it, collecting the sweet oil and eliciting deep, almost pained groans from Jensen. “Fuckin’ tease,” mutters Jensen. Jared opens his mouth to sass back, but remembers that he’s still got a couple minutes left on his sentence, so he instead moves to Jensen’s other nipple and flutters his tongue over the sensitive bud in a way that makes Jensen buck his hips and moan deep in his throat. Jared starts rubbing Jensen’s abs with the sweet oil, making wide circles with his palms and drawing little breathy gasps of pleasure from Jensen. “You can talk now,” says Jensen, as Jared directs his attention to the ridges of Jensen’s hips. “And Jesus Christ, would you get to the fireworks factory already?” “Don’t you have any stamina any more, old man?” teases Jared, dabbing more oil onto his fingers. He slides one slick hand up Jensen’s shaft to the tip, flicking a bead of precome off the slit with his thumb. He tastes it, and the combination of salty and sweet blows him away with how right it is. He immediately squeezes more oil onto his hand and starts coating Jensen’s dick with it, paying special attention to the head. He lightly runs a fingertip around the underside of the head and Jensen bucks his hips so hard he nearly puts Jared’s eye out. “Fuck!” “Sorry, sorry,” breathes Jensen, sounding anything but. Jared pins Jensen’s hips to the mattress with his free hand and continues to spread oil over Jensen’s dick with the other. When he takes Jensen’s cock into his mouth, the sweet taste of the oil is almost overwhelming. Once he’s removed a good deal of it, Jensen’s heady musk starts to come through, cutting the sweetness with a hint of bitterness and spice. Jensen’s panting and moaning, and Jared gently presses a fingertip behind his balls to pleasure him further. Jensen grits his teeth. “Fuck, would you just—” Jared releases Jensen’s cock with a succulent pop and presses his spicy-sweet lips to Jensen’s. “What do you want, birthday boy?” he whispers, lips brushing over Jensen’s with each word. “Stop teasing and fuck me already,” growls Jensen. “That’s your birthday wish?” “Jared, I swear to God—” Jared covers Jensen’s protesting lips with his own. “You got it, babe.” He reaches into Jensen’s nightstand drawer and grabs a condom and lube. The massage oil is water-based, so he doesn’t need to worry about it being all over his hands. He sets the bottle of massage oil on the nightstand and spreads lube over his fingers instead. He eases one into Jensen’s hot, tight hole, and Jensen gasps. “Yeah, yeah,” he whispers, head thrown back. Jared adds another finger in short order, but Jensen grumbles impatiently. “Come on, just do it.” Jared starts to scissor. He’s not a small guy, and he doesn’t think two fingers are quite enough, so he adds a third as fast as he’s comfortable with and hurries the process along. “Finally,” mutters Jensen when Jared eases his latex-clad cock into Jensen’s slick hole. Jared silences Jensen with his own lips as he starts to thrust. He has to break away for air, though, but Jensen seems to have gotten the message. “Fuck, yeah, harder,” he rasps. Jared fucks Jensen as hard as he dares, and Jensen’s lips quirk up with pleasure as he gasps and moans and writhes underneath Jared. He keeps tilting his head back, so Jared peppers the long golden expanse of his throat with little kisses, each one tasting sweeter than the last. Jensen squeezes his eyes shut and the cords in his neck stand out as he sucks in bursts of air. “‘m so close,” he groans, and Jared redoubles his efforts. It’s only a few moments before Jensen comes with a ragged shout, sinking boneless into the mattress. Jared thrusts a few more times before achieving his own release, and once he’s freed his own cock, he collapses next to Jensen, pressing a few last kisses to his collarbone to taste the summery sweetness. “I love you,” breathes Jensen, kissing Jared’s flushed cheek. “I love you too,” murmurs Jared. “Happy birthday.” “The happiest in years,” replies Jensen with a satisfied sigh.

[muse-fanfic]

Chapter 15:

"Nothing, but a tear that's all for breakfast, Watching you pretend you're unaffected, You're pulling out connection, Expecting me to let you go, But I won't..."

Three weeks…five days. It’s been three weeks and five excruciating long days since he stormed out of my room. No phone calls. No texts. No Javier. I have ran out of tears completely and my cries no longer make a sound. I’m a walking train wreck. Nothing occupies my mind besides him. He has taken up every ounce of space that I have. My attempts to connect with him have all failed miserably. He refuses to even discuss business with me. Rakim has now taken over our partnership completely. Everything revolves around him and it twists my stomach in the most sickening way. I cannot focus at work or my mind drifts to the multiple love making scenes that have taken place here. Home is a no, no, his scent suffocates me. Hell, I can’t even go to my favorite restaurant without having to fight off all thoughts of Javier and it’s driving me insane. How could he do this? How could he walk out so easily? How could he leave? I needed him. When did I become this damn dependent? Vulnerability staring back at me and laughing me in my face every time I stare into the mirror. I hated this, I hated him. No, I don’t. I want to, I so desperately need to hate him, but I can’t. My love for that sick twisted man is too strong.

I just needed to hear his voice. Hear my name roll off of his lips. Feel his touch. I am surely going insane and where is he? "It'll be worth it," he said. To hell with that. My sanity is not worth this and yet again that's a lie. I'd give my peace of mind to have him back and that's what scares me shitless. How can he have this much power? Is he even thinking about me?

My thoughts were interrupted by the sound of my phone ringing indicating that I was receiving a call. Unwillingly, I answered the call knowing that I am unable to continue on ignoring Blair’s attempts to reach me or she would surely call in the swat time.

“Hello,”

“Avery, Avery fucking Paige,” she bellowed.

I chuckled at her dramatics, “yes?”

“Avery Paige do not do that. Do not act as if you haven’t fallen off the face of the Earth.”

“You’re being dramatic. It has only been a week since the last time I’ve spoken to you.”

“Correction, haven’t spoken to anyone Avery. You’ve been in a funk for about three weeks now. You’ve barely managed to show your face. What’s up with you? This isn’t the Avery I know.”

“What do you want for me?” I asked already exhausted with the direction of this conversation.

She sighed deeply, I know that I am trying her patience.

“You have an art gallery viewing event tonight and you cannot miss this one.”

“Blair–”

“No, you’re damn near about to run your business into the ground. Get your ass up, put on your business face and pick up the damn pieces.”

I sighed quietly as a tear silently rolled down my face, she’s right.

“Okay.”

“I love you Avery. I’m doing this because I love you.”

“I know.”

“EJ will be over in about 30 minutes to take you dress shopping.”

I agreed and after that, the line ended. I looked at myself in my vanity mirror and cringed. My hair was in shambles. My skin looked dry. My eyes told nothing but pain. A walking train-wreck. Deciding to finally end the pity party, I hopped up from my bed and started towards the adjoining bathroom.

Without hesitation, I turned on the shower head and stripped out of my little to nothing clothing. I connected my phone to the Bluetooth radio and allowed the voice of Aretha Franklin to flow through the speakers while I hopped into the shower singing disgustingly off key to ‘I Apologize’.

Oh, believe me I do.

If I could just see him right now I would apologize until I was purple in the face. It’s clear that I walked into sensitive territory and because of that, I’ve pushed him away. How foolish of me to even think that he was seeing someone else? He loved me like no one did. Like no one else could.

I allowed the water to cascade around me completely being sure to wash my hair as well while the music continued to play easing my mind even if just for this moment. Once I deemed myself thoroughly clean, I stepped out and reached for my towel that was folded neatly on the shelf beside the shower. The cool gush of air caused me to shiver slightly as I made my way into my room.

“About damn time with your toned deaf ass,” EJ blurts out.

I crack a genuine smile before rolling my eyes at his nonsense.

“I’ve missed you too EJ,”

“Oh I know and if you ever think about pulling some shit like this again I’m dragging you down those stairs,” he lightly threatens while pointing towards the door for emphasis.

“Ok, ok,” I hold my hands up in defense before sauntering over to my dresser.

It was silent briefly as I grabbed a pair of simple boy short underwear and covered my entire body in coconut oil.

“No word from him?” He asks quietly I’m sure was an attempt not to trigger my emotions.

“Nope,”

Again, silence.

I slipped on my favorite grey joggers, a white v-neck and my grey hurraches. Throwing my hair into a bun, I deemed myself presentable.

“Ready,” I stated grabbing my keys and wallet.

He nods in acceptance and takes my hand. Leading us over to his car, I smiled lightly as the sun shined down on us. In this moment, I’m grateful that he and Bee didn’t allow me to sulk all day. This day was just too beautiful to waste. Climbing into his car, I waited patiently as he revved up the engine and backed out of my drive way.

“So, where to?”

“Don’t worry ya pretty little head just know that you’re going to fine as hell tonight,”

I chuckled and decided to say nothing back. I closed my eyes as the wind danced along my skin and the voice of Tory Lanez graced my ears. Today is going to be a good day. I’ll make sure of it.

Javier

“Do you remember what it felt like?”

“What?”

“Losing her, do you remember what it felt like?”

“I can imagine…like death.”

Sitting on the floor in basement I rubbed my hands roughly down my face as I inhaled the smoke once more. This, this has been my past time for the last few weeks. I wake up, I smoke until I can’t anymore, I paint, I sulk. This agonizing pain that I promised myself that I would never experience again is back. However, this is different. This pain taps into every part of me. No, I wouldn’t wish this on my worst enemy.

I glanced up and groaned in annoyance at the many painted faces of her. I couldn’t get her out of my head. Everywhere I turned, everything I did, she was in my thoughts. I couldn’t shake her. I couldn’t rid of her sweet scent or her heart tugging laughter. I couldn’t rid of her.

Hearing the door creek I stood to my feet with my count still in my hand as I watched my brother come closer to me with each step he took.

“So, we’re still doing this?” He questioned with dissatisfaction laced in each word.

I said nothing.

“Bro c'mon we still doing this?” His voice heightened this time.

“I don’t need this shit,” I grunted before attempting to push pass him only to have him push me back.

“No, no we not doing this Javier. Get ya’ shit together bro.”

A dark chuckle escapes my lips as I listen to his words.

“You can go.”

“That’s fine, I’ll leave, but the doc staying.”

I scrunched my face in confusion until he called for her to come downstairs. Anger pulses through my veins as her face came into view.

“Hello Javier, I as well as your family are all very concerned about you,”

“Fuck you and your concern,” I spat before taking another hit from my blunt to calm my nerves.

My brother was about to speak on my disrespect until she silenced him.

“I got it from here,” she told him and he nodded before heading upstairs.

Ignoring my glare, she walked around me and sat on the love seat behind me.

“Please, Javier take a seat,” she begged genuinely peaking my interest.

“What do you want?”

“To listen.”

“To?”

“You’re going downhill again Javier,” she stated quietly causing my body to tense up.

Unwillingly, I take a seat across from her never removing my eyes from hers.

“You’re feeling this pain again?”

I nod.

“You’re scared?”

Again, I nod.

“You’re hurting?”

“More than you know.”

“Have you tried to contact her?”

I chuckled, “hell no”

“Why not?”

“To tell her the man that she fell in love with is fucking looney? Huh, to tell her that mentally and emotionally I’m fucked up? Or maybe you’d like me to tell her that I suffer from not only borderline personality disorder and depression, but I was diagnosed with psychosis at the age of 20 which by the way, I still do not agree with. How would like me to tell her that doc? Would you like me to shoot her a text?” I yell before standing to my feet.

“This is bullshit,”

“Javier she loves you,”

“She loves the idea of me!”

She remains silent.

“She loves who she thinks I am. She doesn’t know me doc. She doesn’t know this dark part of me. I don’t want her to hate me.”

“Like how she did?” She questions leaning forward.

Closing my eyes tightly I sit back down as I try to shake my thoughts that we’re trying to creep into my mind.

“Don’t run from those thoughts Javier, embrace them.”

“Embrace that I’m a murderer?” I snap.

“Y-you’re not a murderer Javier. Your mind wasn’t in the right place.”

“Yeah that’s an excuse for killing my ex girlfriend right?”

Again, silence.

“Ya’ know, Avery thinks that she committed suicide,” I laugh darkly. “I’ve already lied to her.”

“Javier–”

“Them damn voices and that pain, now that’s one hell of a mixture. I can still hear her screaming my name for me to stop,” I say as tears rolled down my eyes. “I loved her so much and she just stopped loving me. Just out of the blue she didn’t love me anymore. I was disgusting in her eyes. I was her fall back plan when she was my everything. I wanted to give her the world,”

“You couldn’t do that Javier if you couldn’t even give it to yourself.”

“I love Avery.”

“I know.”

“More than I love myself.”

“I know.”

“More than I loved her,”

She sat back with wide eyes, “more than her?”

I nodded, “scary isn’t it? Now you see why I’ve distanced myself.”

“I understand now Javier, but still, give her a chance.”

“To run?”

“The only one running right now is you.”

[shortsrifle7-blog]

Chocolate Nut and Seed Bars

In my twenties I wanted so badly to own a bakery. A few failed lease attempts (thank God) led to a wholesale granola company that I kept working away at because, well, that’s my personality. I work away at things. I know a lot of people romanticize entrepreneurship and I get it: you’re working for yourself, setting your own hours, and presumably following your dream. But as small businesses grow, what often happens is the reason you were so excited to start the business in the first place (for me, baking and interacting with my community) gets lost in the mires of bookkeeping and lawyers and vendor contracts and hiring and firing. The dream can get lost.

I remember three or four years ago I was invited to a lunch at The Pantry geared towards people who wanted to start a food business. I was there with a few other local business owners, and all the participants could ask questions that we’d each take turns fielding. There was midday wine and beautiful springtime salads and, it turns out, tough questions. One of the women asked where we see ourselves and our business in five years. Not a crazy question. In fact, a pretty common and even a good question, so I was shocked to feel my eyes welling up and my face become hot. When I thought about my business in five years, I couldn’t see a thing. I saw a black hole. And when I thought about myself? I saw a mother. I wanted to have a family.

This was the first time I’d had this realization. I wasn’t one of those women that pretended to be a mommy when I was a little girl or pined for motherhood throughout college. But in realizing that my dream with Marge Granola was feeling like it was coming to an end point, I was worried that — as I tiptoed into my late 30’s — another dream would, too. Sam and I started trying to get pregnant soon after and today Oliver is downstairs singing Old Macdonald with his Aunt Christa after begging me for a second piece of toast with “buttah” and waving to the garbage man from the living room window.

After selling Marge in October, everyone asked me, “What’s next?” While I didn’t know the specifics, I knew that I wanted to work for someone else. I was ready to no longer work for myself. Years ago, I’d fought against the idea of a more traditional career path with everything I had. Maybe it’s because my Dad’s a staunch entrepreneur and I admire and love that about him. Maybe it’s because I found my own success in that lifestyle, which is affirming and validating. But today, with a small singing Oliver in the house and time to think about my next move, I know it’s time for more stability. That’s the season we’re in now.

So next week I start a new job! A real job. I’ve been excited to tell you all about it. I’ll be working over at Simply Recipes as the Director of Sales and Marketing. They’re based here in Seattle, so it’ll be a legit desk job which I haven’t had in many, many years (and yes, it has had me slightly reevaluating my current wardrobe of Madewell jeans + Birkinstocks day in and day out).

My friend Tara once said to me years ago as we were headed out on a walk: “You know the hardest part about freelancing? You have to work so hard to find the work.” That stuck with me, deeply, for years. I’m tired of working so hard just to find the work (I know all my freelancing homies feel me on some level);  Now, I’m ready to stop looking and hustling to drum up work, and settle in and spend all of my time doing the work.

What does this mean for the blog? Don’t worry. I’m continuing with the site; I can’t imagine giving up the blog after so many years of checking in with you, and sharing recipes and photos. But to be honest I’ll need a little time to settle into my new role. I know many of you are inspired by the quicker weeknight meal ideas, and I’d love to start sharing a few healthy dinners we’ve been making lately that fuel us, so I’ll plan for that. And of course on the brink of berry season, there will likely be baking! Sharing quicker, more impromptu content is always easier on Instagram, so if you’re not following along over there, that’s a great place to connect, too.

So I’ll see you back here soon-ish. With new stories of commutes, and the balancing acts of full-time employment, motherhood, cooking, gardening, summering, dreaming, and doing good work. I can’t wait.

Pin recipe Print recipe

These grain-free bars are refined-sugar free and full of flavor, thanks to the toasted almonds, pecans, cashews and handful of different seeds. As long as you keep the proportions the same, you can use any nuts or seeds you like here — a great excuse for a good old fashioned pantry clean-out. The bars are great as is or, for an elevated approach, the chocolate drizzle feels pretty special. 

Ingredients

For the Bars:

1 cup (145g) toasted almonds

3/4 cup (82g) raw pecans

3/4 cup (97g) raw cashews

1/2 cup (70g) raw pepitas

3 tablespoons sesame seeds

1/4 cup (30g) raw sunflower seeds

1/4 cup plus 1 tablespoon brown rice syrup

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

1/2 teaspoon kosher salt

For the Chocolate Drizzle (optional):

1/3 cup dark chocolate, optional

1/2 teaspoon coconut oil

Instructions

Preheat the oven to 325 F.

Grease an 8×8 inch square baking pan with butter (or coconut oil) and line with parchment paper, leaving a 1-inch overhang on two of the sides to help with removing the bars once they’re set.

In a medium mixing bowl, toss together the almonds, pecans, cashews, pepitas, sesame seeds, and flax seeds.

In a small saucepan, warm the brown rice syrup, vanilla extract and kosher salt and stir until well combined.

Pour the wet mixture into the nut mixture and stir to coat. Quickly transfer to prepared pan. The mixture is sticky! My trick at this point is to quickly grease the back of a spatula and use it to press the mixture firmly and evenly into the pan in a nice even layer.

Bake for 20-22 minutes, or until the tops are just slightly golden (this can be tough to tell visually, so just trust that they firm up once cool). Allow bars to cool for at least 1 hour in the pan.

Once the bars have cooled completely, use the parchment paper as handles, lifting the bars out of the pan, and slice into 10 even bars (or 20 smaller squares). 

In a small, microwave safe bowl, combine the chocolate and coconut oil and microwave on high until melted, 40-60 seconds (stir halfway through to ensure it doesn’t burn in spots). Dunk a teaspoon in the chocolate and use it to drizzle over each bar in a zigzag design.

Let the chocolate firm up before handling the bars, at least 25 minutes. Store in an airtight container at room temperature for up to 1 week, or in the fridge for 3-4 weeks.

Source: http://asweetspoonful.com/2018/05/chocolate-nut-and-seed-bars.html

[kidsviral-blog]

This Is What I Learned When I Tried Wearing Makeup For A Week

New Post has been published on https://kidsviral.info/this-is-what-i-learned-when-i-tried-wearing-makeup-for-a-week/

This Is What I Learned When I Tried Wearing Makeup For A Week

I rarely wear makeup, mostly because I don’t think I’m very good at applying it. So while my co-worker Erin went makeup-free for a week, I donned a face full of makeup.

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Jenny Chang for BuzzFeed

I have nothing against makeup, and I’m definitely not trying to make a statement by not wearing it. The reason I usually go makeup-free is mostly because I feel like I’m not good at doing it, and also because I love sleeping and would rather sleep for an extra 30 minutes in the morning than spend that time applying makeup.

For this week of wearing makeup, I wanted to go all out in the makeup department. The only problem was, I wasn’t really sure where to begin. So I decided to head to Sephora to get some ~stuff~.

I wandered the aisles looking totally lost, until, finally, my half-terrified, half-excited look prompted one of the makeup artists to approach me. After I explained to her what I was doing, she was super excited to help me, and ended up giving me a mini-makeover. Though I dropped way too much money, I also left with a look to try and emulate each morning.

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4. Here’s what I learned wearing makeup for a week:

5. Day 1: When I learned that people would notice something was different, but wouldn’t be able to figure out what it was.

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Maycie Thornton for BuzzFeed

For the first day, I decided to go big or go home, so I came to work sporting hot pink lipstick, several brown and gold eyeshadows, foundation, bronzer, black eyeliner, mascara, and highlighter… I even filled in my eyebrows! After putting on so many different layers of products, I sort of felt like I was wearing a mask, but figured at this point I had to try and own it.

When I finally worked up the courage to walk into the kitchen after hiding at my desk for the first hour, a few people came over and said something — that’s when I realized how different the reaction would be from guys and girls. Every girl seemed to notice I was wearing makeup, while every guy knew something was different, but couldn’t put his finger on what it was.

My male boss asked if I did something to my hair. Another male co-worker said I looked different, “in a good way,” but it was clear he had no clue what exactly had changed.

But female co-workers immediately commented on my lipstick, eyeliner, or just that I was wearing more makeup in general.

7. I felt the need to mention the experiment as an excuse for why I was wearing makeup.

I quickly realized that when people began to comment on my change in appearance, I would immediately tell them I was doing an experiment for work where I was wearing makeup.

Why couldn’t I just say “thank you” and own the fact that I wanted to put a little extra effort into my look that day? I’m allowed to spend time making myself look pretty, even if it is just to go to work. But for reasons I’m still not entirely sure of, I found myself still feeling a need to justify myself instead of just embracing it.

9. Day 2 (aka the day my phone would only take blurry selfies): When I learned how insanely hard it was going to be to not touch my face all day.

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Maycie Thornton for BuzzFeed

Ladies who wear makeup every day, I don’t know how you do it! Apparently I touch my face all the time, and wearing makeup really made me realize that. All I wanted to do after looking at a computer screen for a few hours was rub my eyes, and remembering I couldn’t because I would smear makeup all over my face was a form of torture.

11. Also, this is the night I learned that coconut oil is a truly amazing makeup remover!

12. Day 3: The day I realized I love sleeping in.

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Maycie Thornton for BuzzFeed

One of the main reasons I usually don’t wear makeup is because I have a love affair with sleeping. I feel totally fine about getting 10 hours of sleep on an average night, and sometimes on the weekends, I marathon sleep.

So having to wake up 30 minutes early was never fun for me.

This became painfully clear on Day 3, when I woke up and wanted nothing more than to crawl back into bed. It took everything in me not to say “fuck it” and go back to bed. But I pushed through because I was doing this experiment and I had to. My sleepiness made it quite clear to me that a little extra beauty sleep is the main reason I end up makeup-free most days.

14. Day 3 was also the day I finally found the courage to actually post one of the millions of selfies I had taken…

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15. Day 4: When I learned that people get used to you looking a certain way, and they’ll notice any variance from that — whether it’s makeup or something else.

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BuzzFeedYellow / Via youtube.com

On Day 4, I decided that it was time to spice up my makeup-wearing experiment by also wearing my hair pulled back — something else I never do!

I did this because I figured it was the bravest I could get, forcing my full, made-up face to show without any hair to hide behind.

But ironically, my master plan failed, because on Day 4, no one noticed that I was wearing makeup; everyone just noticed that I had a new hairstyle.

17. Also, a lot of people had no idea I didn’t wear makeup in the first place.

One of my male co-workers who knew I was doing this experiment told me that before this week he didn’t realize I didn’t wear makeup, and if someone had asked him, he would have said I do. He said that now looking at me, he definitely sees a difference, but that neither one is better or worse, just different.

Later that day, while chatting with a female co-worker about what I was doing, she made a comment like, “Well, you usually wear some makeup, like mascara and stuff.” “No,” I corrected her, “I usually wear literally NOTHING. Not one ounce of anything.” My co-worker, who has seen my face five days a week for over a year, was in disbelief at the fact that I don’t wear makeup.

As Erin talked about in her post, I think this is because society has conditioned us to assume the people we see are all wearing makeup — it’s almost expected at this point. I think this is especially true for women who seem to put some extra effort into their appearance, like I do. While I might not wear makeup on a daily basis, I always do my hair and spend the extra time to make sure I feel confident and beautiful in the outfits I wear. People assume that ~those~ types of girls must always wear makeup.

19. Day 5: The day I realized wearing makeup makes me feel more confident, i.e., the day my boyfriend called me bossy.

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BuzzFeedYellow / Via youtube.com

“Whenever you put on makeup, you get sassy and bossy.”

That’s what my boyfriend told me as we were walking home from dinner on Day 5. I’m sassy by nature, but I think the bossiness and sassiness he was picking up on was actually my heightened confidence.

But this moment wasn’t the first hint that I was more confident in my appearance when I wore makeup. I work for BuzzFeedVideo, so from time to time, I appear in videos, and on that Monday, I was in a Jewish Taste Test video. In the past, my makeup-free face has appeared in a couple of thumbnail images, and I’ve been slightly mortified, but when my made-up face was used for the thumbnail, I was kind of excited about it. A co-worker even emailed me to tell me I looked “amazing,” and instead of getting awkward or trying to come up with some sort of excuse, I simply said, “Thank you!”

I’m still not totally sure how to feel about this. As someone who identities as a non-makeup-wearer, it feels somewhat defeating to admit that makeup might actually make me more confident. Does this mean if I start wearing makeup every day I will become a more confident person, or will the newfound confidence wear off after a few weeks or months? I really don’t know. I think it might not be the makeup, but just giving yourself a little extra time to make yourself feel good in any way — whether that’s putting on makeup, spending extra time doing your hair, getting your brows done, or even getting a massage or a manicure.

21. Day 6: When I realized that women’s reasons for wearing makeup and not wearing makeup are REALLY similar.

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Maycie Thornton for BuzzFeed

… And that the experiment I was doing was more similar to Erin’s than I had ever thought.

I was on the phone with my best friend Victoria talking about women who feel the need to wear makeup vs. women who don’t feel a need to wear makeup, when I had an epiphany.

I think women who don’t wear makeup have an easier time claiming that they are so confident and comfortable in their own skin that they don’t need to wear makeup, while women who always wear makeup can be regarded as insecure or vain.

But in reality, I think that not wearing makeup can be as much of a mask as wearing makeup.

I think a lot of women who don’t wear makeup do so because they don’t feel they are beautiful enough, or worth the time and money that makeup entails. In the same way that women who usually wear makeup feel insecure without it on, women who usually don’t wear makeup, like me, can feel insecure with it on.

Now, I’m a pretty confident gal, but I think my original need to justify wearing makeup for this week proves that I felt in some way insecure about being dolled up, in the same way Erin felt about not being dolled up.

Us makeup-free ladies have more in common with makeup-lovers than I ever would have guessed.

23. Day 7: When I learned that if you feel pretty, you are pretty — makeup or not.

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Maycie Thornton for BuzzFeed

While I’ll probably never be the type of girl who wears makeup on a daily basis, I did come out of this week feeling like makeup isn’t as horrible or irritating to wear as I initially assumed it to be — makeup can be a fun way to express yourself and accentuate your attributes.

But I still feel like my makeup-free face is pretty darn cute. I don’t think I necessarily need to spend a bunch of time and money trying to make something I already like look different, especially when I’m just going to work or to see people who I already feel comfortable and confident around.

Just like anything else, getting dolled up takes some getting used to, and while I don’t see myself showing up to work wearing bright pink lipstick again anytime soon, I do think this experience has opened my eyes to the world of makeup, and I think I’m now more open to wearing some subtle makeup from time to time. Also, if I ever do have the urge to give that hot pink lipstick another go, I’ll know that the world definitely won’t end, and I might even look kind of cute!

25. Here’s my before-and-after.

Maycie Thornton for BuzzFeed

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Jenny Chang for BuzzFeed

27.

This Is What I Learned Going Makeup-Free For A Week

buzzfeed.com

Read more: http://www.buzzfeed.com/maycie/what-i-learned-when-i-started-wearing-makeup-for-a-week?b=1&loreal_feed=1&loreal_username=beauty

[wellpersonsblog]

Sweet Treat or Workout Fuel? Vegan, Oil-Free Banana Bread

Note from Matt: This recipe post comes courtesy of Stepfanie Romine, co-author of The No Meat Athlete Cookbook. (And don’t forget, today is the last day to get our upcoming video series on oil-free, microwave-free cooking as a bonus when you pre-order the cookbook! Details here.)

One of the great things about being an endurance athlete is that you have a great excuse to eat sweet baked goods by calling it fuel.

But despite my love of cooking (and yummy baked goods), I’m not much of a baker.

There are a few exceptions, however, guided mostly by my husband’s sweet tooth and need for high-carbohydrate, real food snacks to gear up for long bike rides. (He even sometimes brings some, like this one, along with him.)

I make big batches of Miyoko Schinner’s whole-grain waffles (from her book, The Homemade Vegan Pantry), scones from the forthcoming The No Meat Athlete Cookbook, and banana bread — my preferred sweet treat.

Growing up, we had cakes on birthdays and cookies during the holidays, but it was banana bread that always popped up on a regular basis. My stepmom’s version was classic: white flour and lots of white sugar, butter and eggs.

Though she made the recipe every few weeks for years, she would always dig out the weathered index card from her recipe box before she started baking, reading over each line, and by the time I was in high school, I was often the one poring over that note card to whip up a loaf for the family.

Once finished, we’d slather thick slices still warm from the oven with margarine — yes, margarine from a giant beige tub. Ah, the 90s.

A loaf rarely lasted more than a couple of days.

Banana bread isn’t a glamorous dessert, but nor is it a particularly challenging one to make. It makes use of overly ripe bananas that would otherwise be destined for the compost pile. Those humble roots make me love banana bread even more.

In this crazy, mixed-up world of unicorn toast and tie-dye bagels, I’ll take a hearty slice of banana bread any day.

My Vegan and Oil-Free Version of the Humble Banana Bread

For years, I didn’t have my “own” banana bread recipe. I experimented with different versions: with vegan “butter” and later coconut oil; with and without add-ins like nuts and chocolate; in muffin, loaf and even cake form.

Finally, this year, I set out to create a version that satisfied my cravings as well as my desire for a nutrient-packed banana bread. This one is nothing like the one from my childhood, and I like it even more.

It takes 45 minutes to bake and only 15 minutes (tops) to prepare. There’s not much mess, so there’s one less factor that typically deters me from baking. All in all, it’s a perfect recipe to integrate into your weekly meal planning routine.

Best of all? It’s oil-free. When it comes to banana bread, that doesn’t happen much.

This banana bread is slightly sweet — there’s just ¼ cup sugar plus the bananas (and whatever sweetener is in the chocolate chips you choose to use) — and it’s surprisingly light despite using a combo of oats and whole-wheat flour. I bake one batch every week to 10 days, whenever we have a half-dozen extra-ripe bananas in the house.

This recipe yields up to 24 slices, and we eat it just as often for breakfast and snacks as we do for “dessert.” And, since it holds together nicely on the go, Sam takes this on bike rides and I pack it on hikes. Just wrap a slice or two in parchment, then tuck into a plastic bag or reusable one.

My standard recipe uses chocolate chips or cacao nibs for sweetness plus walnuts for crunch (and more nutrition), but the beauty of this recipe is its versatility. I’ve listed several options below, but you can get creative.

Ready to give it a try? Here’s the recipe:

Oil-Free Vegan Banana Bread Recipe

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Oil-Free Vegan Banana Bread

Author: Stepfanie Romine

Prep time:  15 mins

Cook time:  45 mins

Total time:  1 hour

Serves: 1 loaf

  Ingredients

6 ripe bananas

¼ cup raw sugar (such as turbinado)

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

1 cup full-fat coconut milk (see note)

1 ½ cups oats

2 ½ cups whole-wheat flour (see note)

¼ cup ground flax seeds

2 teaspoons baking soda

1 teaspoon baking powder

1 teaspoon salt

½ cup chocolate chips or cacao nibs

½ cup chopped walnuts

Instructions

Preheat oven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit.

Line a 9-by-13-inch baking dish (or 2 loaf pans) with parchment or lightly grease with coconut oil. Set aside.

Puree the bananas in a blender, then transfer to a large bowl.

Add the sugar, vanilla and coconut milk to the banana puree, and stir well to combine. Stir in the oats, and set aside for 10 minutes. (This allows the oats to soften. If you skip this step, the bread will still turn out just fine, but the oats will stay slightly dry in the center. This will yield a tougher, drier loaf overall.)

In a medium bowl, combine the flour, flax, baking soda, baking powder and salt.

After the oats have soaked, use a sturdy wooden spoon to fold the dry ingredients into the wet a third or so at a time, until thoroughly mixed.

Fold in the chocolate chips or cacao nibs and walnuts. Reserve a few for the top, if desired.

Transfer to your prepared baking dish, using a spatula to smooth it to the edges. (The batter will only be about an inch deep.)

Bake for 45 minutes, or until a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean. (If you use two loaf pans, start to check the bread after 40 minutes.)

Remove from the oven and allow to cool before slicing using a serrated knife. If using a 9-by-13-inch baking dish, cut down the center lengthwise first. Cover tightly and consume within five days before best results. You can also freeze individual slices for up to three months. Wrap slices first in parchment, then place in an air-tight container.

If your coconut milk has separated into solids and liquids, aim for about ⅔ solids and ⅓ liquids. I prefer whole-wheat pastry flour, which is finely ground, and produces a softer, less dense final product.

Notes

There are several variations to explore. You can swap chopped pecans or macadamia nuts for the walnuts, add dried cranberries, currants or raisins for the chocolate chips, or sprinkle toasted sesame seeds on top of the banana bread.. For a spicier version, stir in chopped candied or crystallized ginger, and for a creamier version, swirl in ¼ cup nut butter into the dough (don’t mix it in entirely so you can see it and taste it).

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