#god why do these fuckers have so many tags. what is wrong with them (affectionate)

[quietwingsinthesky]

Thoschei kiss without a motive :O

(hands to u my first writing of the morning) have some weird little guys

He’s getting used to breathing again.

Funny thing about coming back from the dead in a body that resists it, that would rather burn than focus on the beating of its own hearts: it was hard to remember he needed air. Hunger came much easier.

This body is alive now. A little radiation can be good for you, under the right circumstances. Even better with a taste of fate derailed and a glimpse of the Doctor’s wide-eyed shock, as if he was the only one who got to break the rules of time.

Hunger lingers. Hunger transforms. He’s growing restless inside the TARDIS’s walls. Not a prisoner — the Doctor has never been able to keep what he loves in a cage, always sets it free and doesn’t dare hope it loves him enough to return. Not free — where would he go? And besides, the Doctor can barely fly the TARDIS on his own. What if he went and crashed into a moon and forgot to regenerate because the whole ordeal was so humiliating? The Master can’t leave him.

The Doctor can’t look at him, most days. Others, he can’t look away. He’s bad for conversation whether he’s guilty or enraptured.

So the Master takes up sneaking into his room while he’s asleep. The Doctor would at least lock his door if he didn’t want it to happen, not that any lock would keep the Master out for long. The Doctor sleeps in awkward bursts, a familiar pattern that he’s never grown out of and the Master has always had to deal with. At least he manages to get into his own bed these days before passing out.

The Master perches over him. He watches the Doctor breathe and matches him. He doesn’t make a sound.

He’s bold enough to touch when the Doctor is deeply unconscious. He slides a hand over the Doctor’s chest and feels one heart, then the other, so slow and peaceful. Not like the humans he plays around with their jabbering single heartbeats, too fast and too loud.

He raises his hand to the Doctor’s throat. He likes this body’s neck. His hand fits so well around it. It would have been a shame to let the Doctor regenerate into someone that the Master’s hands might not belong on. His lazy pulse beats below the Master’s fingers, and his breaths echo from the Master’s own lips.

Up again, to his mouth, to feel the air pass back and forth.

He doesn’t think. He takes.

The Doctor’s mouth is slack and warm.

And then, his hand is in the Master’s hair before he can react, keeping him still and close.

When he’s allowed to pull back, the Doctor is watching him. He doesn’t move, doesn’t panic, as comfortable as before. The Master wonders how many times the Doctor’s been playing at sleep to lure him in.

“I thought you came in here to kill me, the first time,” the Doctor says calmly. “I prefer this.”

[demetriandelibinaryboyfriends]

I posted 1,052 times in 2022

That's 538 more posts than 2021!

154 posts created (15%)

898 posts reblogged (85%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@tugboatdaddywolf

@ivyace

@hallandoates1970topresent

@ancientson

@taguelfright

I tagged 1,038 of my posts in 2022

Only 1% of my posts had no tags

#demetri alexopoulos - 546 posts

#eli moskowitz - 508 posts

#elimetri - 479 posts

#demetri cobra kai - 463 posts

#binary boyfriends - 461 posts

#hawk - 423 posts

#hawkmeat - 362 posts

#cobra kai - 154 posts

#allvalley100 - 148 posts

#miguel diaz - 141 posts

Longest Tag: 140 characters

#eli is a fae because you simply cannot tell me that anyone who does their hair like that doesn't have fae energy like. at least a little bit

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Season 4, Episode 6: An Extremely Chaotic and Incoherent Review

My favorite episode!!! GET READY FOR HEAD FULL MANY THOUGHTS

The Good:

"Kicks Get Chicks" *is the gayest episode in the entire season* Kicks get DICKS more like

"Sure, we're good for the occasional inspirational moment, but we're not exactly center mat material" HA, love that this fucker is self aware

He knows he's the Comic Relief Guy and he embraces it fully

"He who shall not be named" absolutely LOVE how Demetri just fucking despises Robby now but is trying to be lowkey about it so as not to stir the pot

If he could I'm pretty sure Demetri would pummel this man six ways to Sunday

Once again reminding everyone that Robby paralyzed and nearly killed Demetri's best friend, betrayed his and Demetri's dojo, and then held down and forcefully shaved Demetri's other best friend

Yeah he wants to like...murder Robby at this point honestly

I can't blame him, either--if someone fucked over my bestie, my dojo, AND my crush??? I would indeed be out for blood, yes

The way Demetri looks CRUSHED when Daniel's like "I know you're missing your friends but we have to put the past behind us" :( :( :(

He just wants his boyfriend back god bless

Wow no wonder Tory's fucked up, with an aunt like THAT

GOOD LORD

This season is kinda making me love Tory, I'll admit

I never thought I'd see the day but here we are

SIAHDZUIYVDX JOHNNY TRAINING IN A PLACE WITH BLACK MOLD

Could this man BE any more delightfully unhinged

Johnny Lawrence's dojo marketing will never NOT be hysterical

"Smack-dab between the pipe supply and the burned-down Chuck E. Cheese" SIR

"I'm asexual" WELL at least we exist on television, right???

I guess this is the queer rep we get for Season 4, RIP

YOOOOO IT'S MY GIRL MOON

"I can't do the whole physical aggression thing" Remind me again why she and ELI FREAKING MOSKOWITZ are meant to be compatible at all??? Literally what even would they talk about??? Well REGARDLESS, can't help but admire her staunch determination to be a pacifist in a high school singlehandedly spearheading the local karate wars

"She's the best athlete in school and she's not afraid to get into a fight" Okay don't get me wrong, I'm still seething over Moon and Piper breaking up, BUT I do find it absolutely HYSTERICAL that Moon apparently has a type

Even funnier that Yasmine lowkey fits her type too, which is apparently mean, cocky bitches who don't take shit from anyone

Oh SHIT, Sam catching Amanda talking to Tory??? This boutta get JUICY

OKAY HERE WE GO HERE WE GO

BASEMENT SCENE LET'S FUCKING GOOOOOO

See the full post

79 notes - Posted January 15, 2022

#4

Season 4, Episode 10: An Extremely Chaotic and Incoherent Review

The Good:

LISTEN

LISTEN

YOU CAN'T JUST HAVE THESE GUYS PULL OUT THE MOST APT STAR WARS PREQUEL MEMES OF ALL TIME

AND NOT THINK I'M GONNA SHIP THE SHIT OUT OF THEM

DID ELI REALLY JUST SAY DEM SHOULD PULL AN "IT'S OVER ANAKIN I HAVE THE HIGH GROUND" ON ROBBY

WITH A STRAIGHT FACE

I can't with this man

I can 100% not tell if these boys are memeing or actually taking karate advice from the Star Wars prequels but honestly??? I fucking love it either way

Dumbasses (affectionate)

ALSO the absolutely doe-eyed way Eli looks at Demetri when he says "you're taller!!" Yeah you like your men taller, don't you, short king?

Come to think of it Eli has been basically nonstop giving Demetri doe eyes all season

Maybe that's just what his face looks like?

Nah he's still kinda smug smirking at the beginning of the season

But he does become very apt at looking like a sad puppy

I swear this fucker still looks at Demetri like he hung the sun though

Ohhhhh Demetri just going RUTHLESSLY at Robby fills me with LIFE

Demetri Alexopoulos and Robby Keene mortal enemies WHEN

Still morbidly satisfying to see all that paralysis, shaving, and dojo-betraying beef explode out of my boy Demetri in one fell swoop

Oh shit!!! The head kick!!! The THROWDOWN!!! We are at last seeing a glimpsed of the unhinged Demetri I have craved for so long, keep being scary my love

DID HE JUST DO THE "COME AT ME BRO" HAND MOVEMENT

OH HE IS SO PISSED

Seeing this gay nerd be aggressive and intense as hell is ascending me into nirvana

He has found his inner craving for violence and destruction, and I think that's very valid of him

Truly he and Eli are kindred spirits in ways S1 Demetri never could have imagined

You gotta love some irony

He's gone from yeeting out of every bad situation to being like "this dude shaved off my boyfriend's gay-ass hairdo and now I'm going to beat him to kingdom come"

You know what that is? GROWTH

Poor Daniel though, he's like "Oh no :( :( :( My karate sons are fighting :( :( :("

See the full post

80 notes - Posted January 20, 2022

#3

Mr. LaRusso says anyone can be the hero, but I’m not Batman! I’m more like Alfred. You’re Batman!

***

Y’all thought I was gonna watch Season 4 and then NOT do a moodboard of The Basement Scene??? Preposterous. Completely absurd. Literally just gave me too many Vibes to work with for them not to be utilized.

Tried for more grayish/neutral colors for this one! Hopefully it’s not too boring ^^; I wanted to match the general energy of the scene, and both Demetri and Eli seem to be feeling kind of sad and empty here, SO.

Very happy I found a picture of “I love you” written in binary code ;_____;

Also, it has been said, but I’ll say it again: You have Demetri look at Eli like that, and...what??? Expect me to buy Demetri isn’t deeply in love with him??? To buy that Demetri Alexopoulos’s feelings for his best friend are nothing but platonic??? I respectfully disagree, and also, you are an idiot.

The top left pic is what should’ve happened after the basement scene XD

Pic credits available upon request!

82 notes - Posted January 24, 2022

#2

“They were expecting to find Miguel Diaz. What they weren’t expecting to find was love.”

Imagining of Season 5 in which Demetri and Eli go on a totally straight and totally heterosexual Dudebro road trip to Mexico to find their best friend. Unfortunately, when you’re trapped in a car with someone for hours on end, you might have to start confronting some feelings you wish weren’t there.

Well, everyone, I caved. I fucking caved. I said so many times that I wasn’t going to write CK fanfiction because GODDAMN if I don’t have too many WIPs in other fandoms, but like. The desire to write a homoerotic road trip fic was just too damn much.

I’ve never tried formally writing these two before, so I have no idea if it’s any good, but GOD did I try lol. Not much plot here, mostly just Vibes, gay tension, and missing and worrying about Best Boy Miguel!!! Also written partly out of spite because I’m just constantly seeing Miguel/Demetri friendship erasure in the fandom and it’s gotten me HEATED, so now I’m writing about Demetri going off to find Miguel in Mexico and internally monologuing about how worried he is and y’all just gonna have to deal with it. Fun fact: Miguel and Demetri love each other, and I will not hear otherwise under any circumstances :D

Also I can’t believe I’ve been in this fandom over a year and it took fucking writing this fic to realize Demetri has an extremely bad case of generalized anxiety disorder D: Like he worries about every all the time and honestly? Same

Uhhhhh CW for mentions of human trafficking, even if it’s done in jest (they’re teenage boys after all, this is the kinda thing teenage boys joke about lol) and some zesty...physical references, but the sauciest thing they do is make out because I’m asexual and do not wish to write smut XD

Fic is under the cut!!! Be warned, it is a 4k word longboi!!!

EDIT: There is now a sequel here as well!!!

***

“I cannot even begin to tell you how unsafe this is.”

“Uh huh. Go on.”

“I’m serious, Eli! We’re parked out in the middle of nowhere in a desert that never ends and the only signs of civilization are those cars going by on the highway at like 90 miles an hour. This is how people get kidnapped. And used for…I don’t know, human trafficking or something.”

Eli rolls over from where he lies next to Demetri on the car roof, scowling at him. “You think the traffickers are going to want you?”

Demetri scoffs, offended at the implication. “I’ll have you know I am a catch! The hottest girl in school thought so for a while.”

Eli breaks into a smirk. “Didn’t Yasmine like…use you as a beard, dude?”

“That’s not—she’s not—she didn’t—look, it doesn’t count if she didn’t know she was lesbian until after we got together!” Demetri splutters, gesturing vaguely as he attempts to arrive at a point.

“Wouldn’t that make it even worse?”

“Still speaks volumes to my suave disposition that she had no issue appearing to be dating me.”

“I’ll never understand it.” Eli turns away, gaze flicking back up to the stars.

“As I was saying.” Demetri stubbornly goes on. Someone has to knock some sense into Eli Moskowitz—access that logical coding brain he knows is in there somewhere. “Just because we’re a little ways off the main road doesn’t mean someone isn’t going to see us parked out in the middle of bumfuck nowhere. They could still come out here, break into the car, and do—well, whatever they want! It’s not like anyone would hear us yelling for help. We should have gotten a motel room.”

Eli snorts. “What, are we throwing hundred dollar bills around like we’re Terry Fucking Silver? It was hard enough mooching enough gas money off my mom. Besides, we know karate. If anyone comes after us, we could take them.”

Demetri rolls his eyes. “Right, my bad. I forgot I’m under the protection of the latest AVT champ.”

“Damn right.”

“I’m holding you to that, by the way. If we get kidnapped, and you can’t fend them off, I’m going to be really mad.”

“Completely understandable.”

A lull passes over the boys. For several moments, there’s no sound but desert wind, the hum of crickets and cicadas, and the sound of distant traffic. They had pulled off onto some dirt service road and driven for a while before they arrived and parked at what Eli decided was “the perfect sleeping spot.”

“I can’t believe you’re not tired,” Eli pipes up. “You’ve been driving like…all day.”

Demetri shrugs, car roof cool against his neck and shoulders. The sweltering daytime heat has long since faded from the metal.

“I don’t know. I guess I didn’t know when I’d get the chance to stargaze again. It’s kind of hard with all the light pollution. I remember we used to try on your trampoline, and whenever we’d get excited about a particularly bright one, it would turn out to be LAX’s newest outgoing flight.”

“Yeah, there’s a lot more going on out here. Might as well enjoy it.”

See the full post

175 notes - Posted January 27, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Binary Boyfriends S4 Fix-It Fics That I Need Immediately

WHAT UP BINARY BOYFRIENDS NATION, WHO’S READY TO WRITE SOME FIX-IT FIC???

Apologies in advance if any of these have already been done, but consider!!! I am always down to see more!!!

Psyche! Its turns out Yasmine and Demetri both are absolutely aware that they’re gay and are 100% faking a straight relationship to seem more cool and normal! The only reason they sell the horniness so well is because they’re both theatrical motherfuckers and wanna see how much they can overdramatically ham it up to fool the entire school into thinking they’re heterosexual

Demetri attempts to stand up for Hawk with Chris and Nate! Make no mistake, not because I think it would work, but because Demetri sometimes has 0 tact when he gets angry and I think the fallout would be very funny

Demetri and Hawk spar, but Hawk accidentally hits Demetri too hard!!! Angst ensues!!!

Demetri and Hawk spar, and they get all amped up on adrenaline and suddenly one is shoving the other against the dojo wall and making out with them!!! The entire dojo sees them and it’s very funny

Demetri jumps off the building!!! And brags about it to Hawk!!! Hawk looks at him with heart eyes because he’s a badass!!!

Alternatively, Demetri tries to jump and lands on the mattresses. He has to go to the hospital. Hawk visits him and switches between heaping on adoring praise for being so ballsy and yelling at Demetri for being so stupid and scaring the shit out of him.

Bonus points if Demetri literally only jumped to impress Hawk

Demetri and Hawk being utter and complete overprotective karate dads to Nate and Bert

Like remember how they both adopted them as their sons??? LET’S DO SOMETHING WITH THAT

Demetri dyeing Hawk’s hair in the bathtub and it’s very intimate and they keep aggressively tryna No Homo it

I think this may have already been done but I am literally always down to see it again

POV: You’re a Cobra Kai goon about to help the scary Keene kid shave off some dude’s gay-ass purple mohawk when there’s a crash and the most gangly, uncoordinated dweeb you’ve ever seen busts in through the tattoo shop window

You’re like “who’s this clown”

But “clown” as in horror movie clown specifically, because this interloper has a mildly to moderately unsettling look on his face

Cue the unsettling clown saying “Evening gentlemen :) :) :) Hope you’re not about to do something you regret to my pal Eli here :) :) :)” in a really quiet and calm tone of voice, which is. DEEPLY terrifying

*cue Demetri breaking into the world’s hugest and most horrifying slasher smile*

And he unleashes nine levels of hell on the Cobras, because he deserves to

Bonus points if he steals the razor and goes just a BIT slash-happy on them

Or strangles Kyler with the belt thing he was holding Eli down with

I just think Demetri should be allowed to completely fucking lose it and become the scariest motherfucker you’ve ever seen when someone messes with his boyfriend Eli Moskowitz

No really, just stop what you’re doing and imagine Demetri chasing Kyler through the tattoo parlor with a shaver Shining-style like “HEEEEERE’S ‘METRI!”

Like would that fuck or WHAT

On a related note, Demetri going full Slasher Movie Villain on the Cobras to get revenge after they shave the ‘hawk would also be acceptable

I think he should bring Miguel along too, I think that would be neat

Just a couple of best bros going to inflict unspeakable violence on the ne’er-do-wells who brutally violated their other best bro, don’t mind them

Demetri still gets to be more unhinged through

Because a) that’s his fucking boyfriend whose hair they’re avenging and b) Miguel has already gotten to be scary on many occasions!!! Let Demetri have a turn!!!

See the full post

181 notes - Posted January 26, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

...okay so not nearly as funny as last year's (where my 2nd most popular post was my dumb Scott Pilgrim shitpost) but I'm very pleased with my longest tag. It's very correct and absolutely hysterical.

Wild that I apparently posted more than I did at the height of my 2021 hyperfixation. I guess Season 4 and my frantic desire to ramble about everything will do that to ya.

AKAJSDIPVFOU LOOK AT CHAPTER 1 OF THE ROAD TRIP FIC MAKING IT INTO MY TOP 5 GOOD FOR HIM GOOD FOR HIM

(Obligatory reminder that all 6 chapters of the road trip fic are on my AO3 SummerPhlox if you want to read/comment there lol)

YO CONGRATS TO MY BLORBO DEMETRI ALEXOPOULOS FOR BEING MY #1 TAG OF 2022 I'M SO PROUD OF MY SON GOOD FOR HIM

And my other blorbo Miguel Diaz making the top 10 tags too, we love to see it <3

Happy almost-2-year-anniversary to this blog lmao what the fuck I thought I'd have a little mini baby hyperfixation on some nerdy karate gays and then I'd go about my business but irl plot twists are more wild than any movie I've ever seen because somehow I'm still fucking here

[orange-waterfalls]

I Couldn't Come Up With A Title So Have A Late Christmas Fic

Alternatively: 4 times Illinois could've kissed you under the mistletoe and 1 time he did

Illinois x gender neutral!reader

@speedyprofessionalpandaweasel ty for the request

A/N: here it is guysssss I ain't dead yet fuckers ahaha. I meant to finish this at Christmas and then I dislocated my shoulder. so. Illinois x reader, Christmas Fic. 4+1 things(I'm too lazy for 5+1) uhhhhh i didn't feel like going through and finding a screenshot so yeah no picture this time. Fluff/comedy. Yeah. Enjoy.

Word Count: 2.8k

--

#1

Illinois sighed in annoyance. He was spread out on your couch, taking up as much room as possible, yet still acting like he was upset. You had refused to go on an adventure with him because you wanted to spend Christmas with your friends and family. Sure, Illinois was your friend, but you didn’t exactly want to spend your holidays running for your life.

You were decorating your living room and Illinois was being whiny and refusing to help. He just kept complaining to you.

“Come on, Y/N!” He groaned. “I’m so bored!”

“Then go on an adventure.”

“Well, there’s no point if you’re not going!” You rolled your eyes.

“Then stop whining!”

“I refuse.”

“Fine! Can you at least get me the wreath from the box upstairs?” Illinois whined but got up.

He walked up a flight of stairs to the attic of your house. Normally, you wouldn’t be able to afford this, but the price went way down after someone was “accidentally murdered” there. At least that’s what Wilford said.

Illinois dug through the box of decorations. He found lots of ribbons and lights, but no wreath like you’d asked. He frowned and dug through again. Still nothing.

“Hey, Y/N?” He called, “I can’t find any wreath…”

“What? I just bought it yesterday!” You groaned. Just then, Illinois saw red out of the corner of his eye.

“Hang on…” He heard you stand up and begin to walk over. He pushed the box to find a new wreath with a red bow. “A-ha!” He stood and walked back down the stairs. “Y/N, I found the--” He cut himself off as he saw something hanging above the doorway.

Mistletoe.

He panicked for a moment, rushing to tear it off of the doorway and hide it behind his back. You showed up at the doorway not a second later. You stared at his strange expression with a sort of curiosity.

“You good?” You asked slowly.

“In more ways than one.” He winked. You scoffed and snatched the wreath from his hand, walking away.

“Haha.” You said dryly.

“Oh, come on! You always blush at my flirts!” He complained.

“Not anymore, I’m immune!” You called back. He smiled and chuckled softly. He looked back at the mistletoe in his hand and then at the doorway.

It hadn’t been there before… had it?

No big deal. He got it down, that’s all that mattered.

Now to make sure he got all the other ones that were destined to show up…

#2

You started decorating the outside of your house the next day. Since it was so close to Christmas, you only went with a couple of colorful lights and a blow-up snowman. You were on a ladder putting up lights while Illinois put air in the snowman and watched the ladder to make sure you weren’t gonna fall.

“How long’s this gonna take?” He asked loudly. The air pump was very loud and he wanted to make sure you could hear him.

“Not long,” you said, knowing fully that this was going to take a long time for Illinois’ standards.

“You sure?” He asked, suspicious.

“Yep,” You lied, “Just these lights. Pretty simple.” Illinois nodded and focused on the snowman in front of him. He sat and watched it inflate, resting his chin on his palm.

His thoughts drifted to the day before. Where did that mistletoe come from? You had told him that you didn’t really like mistletoe, forcing people to kiss when they didn’t want to seemed kind of scummy. He agreed, but what if they did want to? What if the mistletoe let them discover their feelings for one another in a hesitant yet tender kiss?

God, he was watching too many of those Hallmark Christmas movies…

Illinois let out a slightly sad sigh, and you paused your decorating. You turned to him, an eyebrow raised.

“What’s wrong, Illy?” You asked gently. He shook his head.

“Nothing, I’m alright…” He said. You frowned and started climbing down the latter. Illinois turned to you and glanced up for a moment. His eyes widened as he scrambled to his feet.

Again? Where did it come from?!

“Stop!” He yelled and held a hand out. You blinked and froze. “Don’t come any closer!”

“Illy, what…” you began to look above you

You were hit right in the face with something cold and wet. You shouted in surprise and slight pain. You shook your head and wiped your face. Did he really just throw a snowball at you? You narrowed your eyes at him. He smiled awkwardly back.

“Uh… snowball fight?” He said in a small voice. You looked so angry. He thought you’d explode.

Suddenly, you started to laugh. It started with a small snicker and grew into a roar of laughter. Illinois stared at your happy face and felt himself begin to chuckle as well. You both just stood there for a moment, laughing, before you bent down to scoop a handful of snow. You packed it into a tight ball and smiled widely at the adventurer. He quickly grabbed his own handful and dove behind a nearby bush. You had thrown your snowball and barely hit his thigh.

You two laughed and threw snowballs for ten minutes. You both stood panting after a while, faces red and covered with snow. You wiped your face with your sleeve and sighed.

“I uh… I think we should head on inside,” You suggested. Illinois nodded and followed you to the door. He paused at the doorway and looked back up at the mistletoe hanging from the ceiling. He squinted before grabbing a bunch of snow, packing it into a ball and hurling it at the small plant. He hit it dead on and it fell to the ground.

“Illinois?”

“Coming!”

#3

Illinois smiled as he looked over at you while putting ornaments on the tree. You were intently watching an ornament swing back and forth, hoping it didn't fall. He chuckled quietly and picked another one from the box.

"I have never seen someone so serious about Christmas," he commented. You hummed, but didn't take your eyes off of the tree as you picked up an ornament. He let out a breathy chuckle and stepped away from the tree.

“How long have we been doing this?” He yawned. You shrugged in response. “Okay, what time is it?” You glanced up at the clock.

“1:00 a.m.”

“1:00 a.m.?!” He shouted. You turned to him.

“That’s what I said, 1:00 a.m.”

“Jesus Christ, Y/N!” He groaned and grabbed up his satchel, along with his coat.

“What’s the problem?” He froze with his hand on your doorknob and slowly turned to you. You sat there, blinking in confusion.

“The problem is it’s super fucking late and I’m going home!”

“Wait! Wait, wait, wait!” You called out. You scrambled to your feet and grabbed his hand. He snapped his head towards you and you pulled away. His hand twitched, missing the feeling of your hand in his already.

“It’s… it’s really late… you can stay here if you’d like?” You suggested. He raised an eyebrow.

“I don’t… have any clothes…”

“Wilford left some of his pajamas, you can wear some of those!” Illinois squinted, wondering why you had Wilford’s pajamas.

“Where would i sleep?”

“You could sleep in my bed!” He widened his eyes. “J-Just as friends, though!”

“I don’t know…” He said hesitantly. You took his hand. He flushed a bit.

“Come on, Illy. I don’t want you getting hurt…” You said. He sighed and looked down at your hand clutching his. You were worried, he supposed that was a valid reason…

“Alright, alright,” He sighed. You grinned and went to your bedroom, Illinois following.

You let him change into pajamas before reentering your room. You both climbed into the bed and tucked yourselves under the blanket.

“Night, Illy…” You whispered. He nodded. You turned your lamp off and turned on your side. Illinois sighed and stared up at your ceiling with his arms folded on his stomach.

He was about to sleep in a bed. Your bed. In which you were sleeping as well. He thought he was dreaming. He couldn’t let this go to waste. Maybe he could…

“What if we… cuddled…” He said after five minutes. You turned towards him and, even in the dark, he could see the confused look on your face. “Kidding… unless?” You snorted and laid back down. He let out a small sigh and went back to staring up.

“It was worth a shot…” He mumbled and closed his eyes. He suddenly felt something wrap around his torso, so he opened his eyes and looked at you. You had your arms around him, and were snuggling into his side. You looked… content. And very, very cute.

Illinois wasn’t sure if he could take it anymore.

He smiled a bit and settled in, closing his eyes.

And then he snapped them back open. He saw a hint of green on the bedpost. He slowly took a knife from his satchel and cut it down.

“Illy, whas wrong?” You mumbled. He pet your head.

“Nothing, it’s fine…” You sighed and snuggled further into him. He smiled and put the knife back in his satchel. He closed his eyes, focusing on the feeling of your body against his.

He really liked the feeling.

Maybe you could do this more often...

#4

Illinois yawned and leaned back on the couch as you sat on the floor, wrapping presents. You had wanted to get each of the egos something that year, so you had a lot of presents. You just got back from the store, where Wilford tagged along to help.

Illinois had gone with you two and acted a bit weird the whole time. He crossed his arms and huffed when you started gushing over a teddy bear in a suit you’d buy for Dark. That was only the time you noticed him.

You dropped Wilford back at the mansion on the way back to your house, and the man had kissed you on the cheek. You flushed a bit and chuckled in response. You were aware that Wil was very affectionate and it didn’t mean anything. Illinois, however, was extremely pissy about this. He folded his arms and stared out the window. You laughed at the action.

“What’s up with you?” You had asked. He didn’t answer, so you left it alone.

When you got home, you took out many different patterns of wrapping paper and threw them on the floor, wanting to get the wrapping done as soon as possible. Illinois refused to help, so he just laid on the couch watching Christmas movies.

“Illinois, help me with the presents,” you commanded after struggling for five minutes

“No.”

“Please?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m invested in this movie.” You turn to the TV to see what he was so invested in.

“The credits are rolling.” You point out.

“I don’t see your point.”

“Can you at least get Wilford’s present from my room?” You asked. Illinois furrowed his eyebrows. Why were you keeping his gift in your room?

He scoffed and walked into your room, picking up a cardboard box from the nightstand. He scowled at the box, wondering what you got Wilford that was so damn big. And probably expensive.

His mind drifted to what you got him… it probably wasn’t nearly as good as what you got any of the other egos. This was the only package you said you got delivered and everything else you bought with him and Wilford. Maybe you got him something unimportant, something you wanted to get rid of. Or maybe you didn’t get him anything at all…

Or maybe you were the one putting up all the mistletoe and his gift would be a kiss from you…

Absolutely not. You would never.

The adventurer brought the box into the living room, dropping it in front of you and making you yelp. You stood up and crossed your arms while standing directly in front of Illinois.

“What is your problem?” You asked exasperated. He looked up to avoid eye contact but noticed mistletoe stuck to the ceiling. He opted to look to the side and hope you didn’t notice it too.

“Nothing, I’m fine.”

“Illy, you’re obviously not.” He frowned at the nickname, knowing you were trying to butter him up. He glanced at you, seeing your worried face, and began to feel bad. Why was he jealous? He had no right to be. You weren’t dating him…

He sighed and smiled at you softly.

“I’m okay,” He lied. You tilted your head at him.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"Good. Now," you stepped back and pointed at the pile of items on the floor, "help me with these." He smiled warmly.

"Will do."

#5

Christmas Day, you went to Markiplier Mansion for a party. A lot of the egos showed up, which made you really happy. The ones who didn’t, you’d just tell someone to give them their present at a later time.

You and the egos sat in Wilford’s living room. None of them had really brought any presents, except for Eric, Bing, and Wilford. Once all the presents were passed out, they were instructed to open them by Dark. All of the egos were so happy with their presents, and you felt so proud of your choices. Wilford helped too, but that doesn’t matter.

After opening presents, everyone scattered across the mansion to mingle, eat, drink, or just watch everyone else. You slid up to Illinois, who was holding a glass of eggnog, with your own mug of hot chocolate.

“Did Wilford put something in this eggnog too?” You asked.

“No, “ Illinois laughed, “Bim made this.”

“I’m not sure that’s better…”

“Yeah, me neither…” He said, drinking some more. You chuckled at him and turned to the crowd.

“You think they could get along like this normally?” You voiced a thought.

“Ha, never.” You turned to him, a curious look.

“Why not?”

“Eh… too proud. Too selfish. Too annoying…” He named traits present in almost all of the egos.

“Yeah… you’re probably right…” You sighed, looking down at your drink. Illinois, noticing your falling mood, decided to try and bring something positive to the conversation.

“I mean… if you got Eric and King and Bing, Yancy, even Mark, then… maybe.”

“Yeah… maybe…” You smiled a bit. You both stood, watching them all interact. It was nice to see nobody fighting, yelling, killing… Just friends enjoying each other’s company.

“Oh!” You gasped, making Illinois jump, “I almost forgot!” You turned to him with a grin and took his hand.

“Wha-” He began to protest.

“Come with me,” You demanded. He nodded and you dragged him through the mansion, upstairs and into a room.

The room was dark, the light being very dim, and he saw a bed with a box on it. His heart started to race.

Oh God, oh God. Is this it? Is it really happening? His thoughts raced through his head as you brought the box over to him.

“Now…” You stopped in front of him, “Close your eyes.”

“Uh, Y/N, I-I don’t know if…” He stuttered. You rolled your eyes.

“Trust me, Illy…” He sighed and nodded, closing his eyes. He heard the sound of a box opening, and his hat being taken off. It was replaced by some sort of headband. He was very confused.

“Alright, open ‘em.” Illinois opened his eyes. They widened at the mistletoe in front of his eyes. He looked up even further and saw that it was coming from the headband on his head. His face flushed and he looked back at you. He opened his mouth to say something, and was cut off my you pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. It only lasted a couple seconds before you tried to pull away. Illinois grabbed your waist and pulled you forward, making you squeak. You laid your hands on his shoulders, and he tilted his head. He kissed you deeply, wanting to savor the moment and never wanting you to pull away. Yet you did, when you heard giggling and gagging from behind you. Illinois turned around, seeing most of the egos peeking through the door.

“I told you the headband was the perfect gift!” Wilford said proudly from somewhere in the crowd. You kept your hands on Illinois’ shoulders and pushed him back, towards the door.

“Yeah, you were right,” you said impatiently. Illinois’ back hit the door, forcing it to close as he was pushed against it. “Now…” you locked the door and looked up at Illinois, his face red from your confident demeanor.

“Where were we?”

[boogiewrites]

A Girl Walks Into A Bar

Chapter 1

Characters: Declan Harp x Bella (OFC)

Word Count: 6400+

Summary: Frontier Modern AU. Declan is a bar owner and local urban legend with a reputation he’d like to leave in the past. Bella is a rough around the edges, low key sweetheart that isn’t from his part of town. After meeting with the help of some bad luck and perhaps a touch of fate, how far will their undeniable chemistry take them until their histories catch up with them?

Warnings/Tags: Language

A/N: Currently watching Frontier, love it, felt a burst of creative ideas and I just went with it. First time writing for this character. As always, shout out to @jaegeeeeer who told me to watch the show and enables my bad behavior. <3 

Positive feedback is MUCH appreciated! Reblogs, likes, asks and comments feed me to write more! Let me know if you’d like tagged in my work.

My Masterlist. 

You'd had a bad day. Murphy's Law was created for the sole purpose of explaining the day you'd had. Your car is fucked, sitting in a shop currently as you just have to wait for a phone call about the state it's in and what limb you'll have to sell to afford the work. The bus was late, the coffee machine at work wasn't working and you'd dealt with assholes pretty much everywhere you'd went.

The bratty 16-year-old and her father that were in the studio that day had certainly earned the not affectionate in the least title. The Rolex wearing father, not attentive, blue tooth headset and nose stuck to a phone screen for the entirety of any communication you had with. He'd first insulted you, telling you to go fetch them coffee, tossing you a twenty while his clearly in need a smack and a therapist daughter barked a nonsensical order to you. You didn't go to Starbucks, you didn't know what the fuck any of this meant. You eat it anyway, as your boss is sighing and trying to keep the situation under control, seeing your known temper rising to the surface. You turn with an annoyed nod to leave, the father then smacking you on the ass on the way out. If your boss hadn't grabbed your arm, he would've been dealing with a broken pair of glasses and hopefully a cracked eye socket to accompany it.

You return from your errand, where of course, the barista was a dick. Still feeling insulted, seething as you see every switch and knob has been messed with in your absence. You hear the pterodactyl screech of this spoiled child from the booth, ignoring her while you fix what she's fucked up. Her father rushing you and claiming he was paying for this time and you were milking it.

After fixing others mistakes, you have to deal with the voice of the girl. You play it back over and over for her, she screams it sounds wrong, that you've fucked it up and it's your fault and you don't expect anything less from her at this point.

"Well it sounds wrong because you can't sing." you finally state matter of factly. You see your bosses hand go to her forehead, mouthing the word fuck.

The pterodactyl screeching does not falter, you are unphased despite the father now being tugged by his sleeve to you in the booth by his tantrum-throwing daughter, your boss walking in behind them.

"This is fucking insulting and I'm not doing it. This is a fucking studio for artists, not the next god damned Rebecca Black and her absentee fucking father! This is a place where we make MUSIC, we make ART here! Don't fucking insult my work here with this bullshit! I'm not here to cater to this fuckin' blue tool wearin' mother fucker and his piss baby of a kid!" you shout and you do not care. You started as an intern here, you worked your way up and you knew your value. No one else knew the technical side of things AND knew how to play instruments. Your boss knows this and knows she needs you as you both ignore the shouting from the two fuck heads who are still crying about things being unfair and unprofessional.

"I know. We need the money, I'm sorry. Why don't yo-"

"NEED THE MONEY?! BULLSHIT!" you shout, "If you needed the money so bad maybe don't go indulge your post-divorce crisis with plastic surgery and a new car CeeCee!" you grab your coat and angrily put it on.

"Just take the rest of the day off, Bella. This is clearly out of hand and no one can work like this." she says, not even mad at your words, you were never known to hold back your thoughts and knowing each other for years now your comments didn't phase her. You were a very passionate woman and it was all part of your process she'd quickly learned. Can't be as knowledgeable about music and art as you are without having a burning passion inside you for it. Unfortunately for you, this fire extended outside of your work and hobbies sometimes and made you a bit of a hot head. But at this point in your fuming, you were growing tired, so you cut it short.

"You're fucking right!" you shout as you slam the door behind you. "Take the rest of the day off," you mumble and mock her in an immature way but man, you were pissed. It was already after 5pm what rest of the fucking day was left! You're reminded of your car being gone as you stand in your reserved spot, staring at the freshly fallen snow that lay where it should. "Fuck." you groan, pulling on your gloves and tugging your hat over your wavy dark auburn hair. You had to walk to the bus stop and all you wanted was to go home and get drunk, so you in your winter wear, jeans and big black boots over them, a fleece lined leather jacket over your hoodie, all tied up cozy with a bow and a beanie. At least you'd checked the weather before you left the house so you were prepared for the walk.

You hear the sound of music as you walk down a street you'd driven past mindlessly, countless times. You're on the outskirts of the small community, outlying the city where you lived in a duplex, and much to your delight, you had no upstairs neighbors currently. No one to bitch about your music being played too loud or your guitar playing well into the night. As you round the corner, just a few blocks away from the, you're assuming, still shouting assholes, you let out a sigh as you recognize a guitar riff. It immediately sends the impulses you need to your muscles, your shoulders lowering finally from their tension. You've reached the source of the sound, you look up to the sign above the dark stone and wood front of the...bar...it would seem. You'd been past this place so many times and never stopped to look.  "The Trading Post." you say to yourself, biting your blushed from the cold lips. You see the welcome neon advertising beer and you sigh. You stand there for a few moments, considering just stopping in here, they were playing Zeppelin after all...how bad could it be?

You must've been wearing your foul mood all over your face because one of the men standing in a circle of other men, all wearing biker vests turns to watch you go in.

"You ain't lookin' for trouble are ya?" he asks, eyebrow raised.

You show no sign of intimidation. "I'm going in to drink to make myself forget about the fuckin' trouble." you say, moving your gloved hand to the door.

"I ain't never seen you here before."

"That'd be because I've never been here before."

"Yeah..." he looks you up and down in judgment and not in a sexual way, which you're relieved by. "But I've been told to keep out the riff-raff."

"Well no offense but one might think you guys are that riff-raff." you say with a stare and an attitude. One of the other men laughs.

"What's your name?" his eyes narrow.

"What's yours?" you ask with the same swing of your chin.

"They call me Southie." he answers.

"They call me Bella." you nod back, extending your hand and he looks at it in a surprised way but takes it, a gentle shake.

"Well don't go in there to fuck with no one, especially not Declan now, you hear? He doesn't take too kindly to folks running their mouths much."

"Who the fuck is Declan?" you ask. All the men laugh.

"You must not be from around here." he grins.

"I work a few blocks back, but I don't live in this neighborhood, no." you explain.

"Ah. Well..." he huffs out a laugh. "If you've not heard of him, you'll still recognize him when you see him." he nods and the other guys chuckle again.

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" you ask with a shake of your head.

"Just let the girl go get a fuckin' drink, man, she's clearly in a bad mood, just let the little firecracker go." he laughs. You narrow your eyes at him, not sure if that was a compliment or not.

"Alright." he shrugs. "Go on, get in there baditude." he says with a nod of his head towards the door.

You pull it open, your eyes don't have to adjust much because the lighting is dim, just as a bar should be in your opinion. There are multi-colored lights in strings across the corners of the ceiling, neon signs placed with no rhyme or reason on wood paneled and brick walls. You look down the line of booths along the wall, all an old green color that only existed in the 70's you're pretty sure, worn and patched up with duct tape below the table tops with carved words of love and hate on top. To your right, there is a long wooden bar, a beautiful old monster of a thing. Looked like it'd been there longer than the building and the building looked very old itself. There's a faint smell of mildew, smoke and cheap cologne in the air. Had you just by chance walked into the dive bar you'd always wanted to call your local? When you catch sight of the man behind the counter, you know you have.

His back is turned to you, even from the doorway you can tell he's tall. As you walk forward, pulling your gloves off and stuffing them into your pockets he just gets bigger and broader the closer you get. A clearly well loved, thin t-shirt is all he's wearing in the dead of winter. You suppose maybe the past the shoulders mess of waves and curls that fade from almost black to a lighter brown towards the ends is keeping him warm. Or perhaps the lights that dotted the line of the bar were, some covered with colored gels, some broken, but you found it very charming nonetheless.

You're reaching for your zipper as he turns, guessing he's heard the door shut behind you. He turns as if he's expecting someone else, his head tilting just slightly as you continue walking. An intimidating face to match his stature greets you. His thick beard, just left of unkempt sits course, a full lip buried in the midst of it peaks out at you. His complimentary to his olive skin and dark coloration of the brown with yellow coloring eyes look over you under a heavy brow and hooded lids.  His almost Disney villain like naturally arched brows raise at your appearance in the bar. The act of unzipping your jacket while his eyes are on you makes your face flush. Or perhaps it was the heat in here. Hell, it could be both.

"What can I get ya?" he says in a deep but friendly voice.

"Uhhh..." you mumble for a moment, eyes looking over the bar back full of a plethora of bottles, some you've never heard of and for your Irish half, this was surprising as you'd known your fair share of alcohol in your life. "You have any real ale?" you ask with a wrinkle of your nose as he's looking to throw a towel somewhere out of sight to you.

His handsome face looks back up at you, this time a big grin appears, which you respond to with a few slow blinks. "We certainly do, babe." he says with a nod of his head, clearly supportive of your choice. Your eyes narrow as he turns at the use of the pet name. But you weren't getting a creepy vibe off this guy, but you were still withholding judgment. And as if your questions were meant to be answered, a man and woman walk into the bar, you feel the cold air move down and brush past your face.

"Oh hey, babydoll! Wasn't sure you'd show." he says, grabbing a box and walking it around the bar towards the man with the small woman.

"Hey Declan." he greets him, he picks her feet up off the floor with the entrapping hug he gives her. It makes the corner of your mouth want to pull back at the kindness behind the gesture. Looks like baby was just a word to him and part of you is grateful. "I'm running late sorry. I can't stay but I know I needed to get this before the morning."

"Otherwise you'd have me up at dawn waiting for you tomorrow to come to pick these up." he grins.

"It's like you know me sweetie." she grins up at him. He gives a hearty slap to shoulder of the man with her in greeting.

"You kids have fun then. That spots great for camping out up there. Just keep a lookout for bears." he says with a point of his finger at them both.

"Yes I know." she nods. "I googled everything, we'll be fine. Food up off the ground and everything, Got it."

"Good girl." he says patting her head, something she frowns insincerely at.

He returns to behind the bar, reaching back into a standing fridge and popping the top off a bottle before he slides it to you. "This one's my favorite." he says with a nod and a smile, your fingertips examine the green glass in your hands. He moves to shut the door to the room he'd retrieved the box from for the now gone, girl. You settle in on the stool, taking your jacket and hat off, fluffing your hair with one hand as he comes back. Your lips to the mouth of the bottle as his eyebrows raise at you in question.

"Shit man, that's good." your eyebrows raise as you look at the bottle. You hear a small grunt of laugh from him. "This looks like what those people just walked out with."

"Nah. Same people brew it, same label, different brew."

"Tastes like...fuckin' cherries or something." you say smacking your lips. "They must ferment it differently." you say, basically to yourself but it catches his attention. You knew your ale.

"Yeah they ferment it at a higher temperature, makes it have that fruity taste to it." he educates you further.

"This local?" your voice inflects with curiosity, meeting his eyes with yours.

"Yeah. But you aren't are you?" he says with that same warm expression.

You shake your head. "No." you take another drink. "I live closer to the city but I work just a few blocks over at the little studio on the corner." you explain.

"That sounds cool. I didn't think I'd seen you around before." his eyes narrow in thought.

"It can be but not today." you shake your head. "I've driven by this place every day on my way to work and never stopped before. With my car in the shop and after the shit day I've had the appeal of alcohol and Zeppelin I heard from outside earlier I just couldn't resist." you shrug and take another bigger drink.

"Well, I'm glad you did. I'm Declan." he extends his hand, you're struck with the size of his arms as one swings closer to you.

"Thanks. Bella." you say with a more friendly tone. Now you weren't strangers. "This your bar?" you ask.

"She's mine alright." he nods proudly. Your eyes wander down the long thin space of the booths and bar, as he walks to the end, and to your surprise he walks over to you, pulling a stool from between his legs and sitting next to you, elbow propped up on the bar. You see a larger room lies past, it remains dark and you can't tell much. But the warmth you feel coming off of his large body, now daunting next to yours pulls your attention from your curiosity of it. He scratches his head, scrunching his face, you look up at him from under your brow as his biceps appearance throws you more off than you'd like to admit. You see he's in light washed, slightly baggy jeans, holes, and scuffs galore, just as you'd expect from what you'd seen of his upper half. His boots have much the same appearance as him, sturdy and worn. "What's brought you to me and my humble second home tonight, Bell?" he asks, head tilted, eyes matched to yours, the laid-back vibe he had put you at ease and you welcomed it as it and the ale warmed you up from the inside out.

"Oh I've had myself a fucking DAY, Declan." you say with a roll of your eyes. He seems to like the use of his name. He likes the way it sounds, seeming to come from you so easily and without any loaded backstory attached.

"Sounds like it." he says with a lazy smile.

"I don't want to just sit here and bitch at you while you're working." you say shaking your head, not wanting to take the entirety of the man's attention.

"It's a weeknight sweetheart, do I look busy?" he asks with a smirk. Your big green eyes move around the bar.

"You've got a point," you say with a nod, taking another drink. "If you want to hear me bitch I mean...I'll sure as hell oblige." you say with a shrug, and he smiles, chin raised to show he's listening.

"Well, it all started..." you begin.  You're about to get into the girl touching the recording equipment when a seemingly harmless middle-aged balding man bops around the corner of the back room you can't see.

"Gimmie a loooooong neck!" he shouts, drunk but not angry.

He turns with a frown of apology to you, which was needless but you appreciated it. "Get it yourself Gary, you've been drinking the same thing for 20 years." he shouts back, looking back at you will an animated roll of his eyes. When his eyes fall back on you, you're smiling. The first smile he'd seen since you came in. He knew he wanted to see more of them from you. "Don't mind him. You were saying something about a rejected sweet sixteen applicant?" he grins.

He listens, and intently, eyes always on you every time you look up from the bartop or from your bottle. He raises and slaps the bar top. "That's it girly." he says, moving back behind the bar again, "On the house." he states, putting another bottle in front of you.

"Wha-?" you ask with a wrinkled nose he finds charming.

"Your drinks tonight. On the house." he says as if it's obvious.

"Uh..." you stutter and show your surprise. "That's very kind of you but-"

"Nope. I see a dollar of your money and I'm not giving you any more of that." he grins, pointing to the bottle.

Damn, he was nice, you thought, a subtle frown on your face as he turns to reach for a bottle with a stopper in the top, sitting two shot glasses in front of you. Damn, he was really fucking nice.

"Christ, dude you giving me Jameson too?" your eyes are wide and you take a deep breath as he takes the glass in his hand, you mirror the action. "My ancestors applaud the choice." you say with a chuckle that he returns.

"Oh you're Irish?" his chin lowers and one eyebrow raises.

"Half yeah." you give a quick nod.

"Oh well then get the fuck outta here." he manages to get out without sputtering with laughter.

Your face scrunches up and you let out a louder laugh, your shoulders moving with it. "To..." you pause to think for a moment. "To this hangover not killing me tomorrow." you say with a wide smile he's thankful to see as proof that your mood is improving.

He nods, you tap your glasses on the bar top and shoot them back. "Won't think less of me for drinking on the job will ya?" he says with a smack of his lips.

"It's your fucking bar, man do whatever you want, who am I gonna tell?" you smirk.

So time passes and the drinks pass with it. People come in and out of the bar, you switch from stool to booth to pool table and back. You playfully argue about White vs Rob Zombie, as per the shirt you're wearing.

"At least I'm not Mr. Dad Rock over here, I bet you put on the B side of IV and give a girl a six pack and the panties just go FLYING don't they?" you say with a loud laugh he matches, both smacking at each other.

"You sound like you're speaking from experience," he says with a sigh, wiping his face as his eyes started watering from the goofiness of your banter through the night. "Sound a bit salty about it, to be honest." he teases.

You snort and smack his knee, "I might be speaking from both." you admit, a laugh that grows and you shut your eyes with it. "Who says you can't learn from your mistakes?" you say with a goofy shrug.”Even if it takes it a few times to stick.”

At this point in the night there are only two other people, as you're wiping the laughing tears from your eyes you notice this, then your phone lights up and you see the time. How the fuck was it past 10 already. You pick it up and look at it. "Fuck it's later than I thought." you say, pushing your hands on the countertop. You stand and feel his arm around you before you even realize your knees are knocking.

"Woah there, hun." he says, hands on your sides, eyes clearer than yours and concerned.

"Oh you went and got me fuckin' druuuunnnnnnnnk." you say in a deep scolding voice.

"In my defense, you did the drinkin' yourself there babe." he chuckles, still holding you steady as he stands.

"Never rode the bus wasted before. This'll be a fuckin' story to tell you next time I come in here for sure." Although he didn't think you wouldn't come back, he's glad to hear you were already thinking about it.

"You are not riding the bus like this, sweetheart. Not at this time of night." he says, shaking his head. "Not anytime actually. You baby foal. I thought you could handle your liquor."

"I can I've just been sitting for 12 hours straight haven't I? Makes the legs no worky." you explain with a frown and he laughs at you again.

"Whatever you gotta tell yourself." he pats your head, as you steady yourself with one hand.

"If I were shorter I'd be mad about that." you say. You hear him huff out a laugh as he moves behind the bar and retrieves a huge fur and leather coat. Guess he was human after all, he could be part sun god for all you knew. Maybe that's why those dudes warned you, a mere weak mortal walking into the den of god. Oh wow, you were drunk.

"You want a ride home hun?" he asks very politely with a hand on your shoulder. He was going to beg if he had to, he wasn't letting a nice girl like you alone whether you were drunk or not.

"Ugh," you say, putting your arms in your jacket in a fussy way. "It's like 20 minutes away Declan, I can't put you out like that I'll call an uber or somethin'."

"I close soon anyway, you aren't putting me out. Mike's here to lock up anyway." He didn't trust anyone else to make sure you got where you needed to go, feeling protective over you. Not many nice women came into his bar, he didn’t want you running away so soon. And of course he felt partially responsible for the amount of alcohol you'd consumed. He'd given you some shit over being drunk but damn did you hold it well. You weren't wobbly as you step away from the bar, bending at the knees and stretching your sides.

"Seeing as I've been seen here I don't think you'll murder me...Would you? Promise me you won't murder me and I'll let you take me home." you say with a nod, a smirk on your face as you shove one of your gloves into your mouth and pull the other on.

"I solemnly swear I will not murder you, Bell." he nods in a charming serious way.

You playfully narrow your eyes at him. "Cross your heart?" you say before a silly smile spreads across your face.

"And hope to die." he chuckles, moving his finger over his chest.

"Only a real fucking asshole would break one of those promises." you narrow your eyes again, tugging your hat on and moving towards the door. "And don't tell anyone but I don't think you're an asshole."

"Oh she's got compliments." he says with a fan of his face in jest at your words.

"Nah she's just drunk on Jameson." you laugh as he stands right behind you, reaching down to open the door. "Oh fuck." you whisper as the ice hits you immediately. It was snowing. And hard.

"Looks like you wouldn't be getting that bus tonight anyway." he says, pursing his lips, hand on your back as you make your way out the warm, sepia-toned confines of his bar and out into the crisp, cold biting air of the cool-toned night.

You make it a few steps before you slip, which for the state of the sidewalk, was not something that was to blame on your sobriety.

"Ya gotta be careful there babe." he says, catching you for the second time that night in his over sized hands, feeling their grip past the layers you wore.

"That isn't from being drunk, I promise. There's ice." you whine with wide, honest eyes looking up into his.

"I'm inclined to believe you." he says with another warm, whiskey toned softly spoken words.

"Wait. Can you drive? Are you drunk?" you suddenly recall. He laughs and puts a hand around your elbow, the other around your waist as you head down the sidewalk slowly.

"I am not." he says with a reassuring smile. "Takes a bit more to get me drunk than it does a little thing like you." he explains, no teasing in his voice. You suppose to him, everyone was little in comparison so you take no offense. ----- The weather's worse by the time he pulls into the small driveway you're extremely lucky to have in this part of town. The usual 20ish minute drive you'd promised had turned into almost an hour. You felt bad about him doing this. But then again you weren't used to the level of attention and thoughtfulness he seemed to naturally exude. He did drive slow but an untreated road no matter the speed was an obstacle in an of itself, even in a four-wheel drive.

"You...uhhh..." you start, your hand on the handle of the door of the truck. You purse your lips, brow furrowed as you force your eyes to meet him. "It's really shitty outside, do you want to come in for some coffee or tea or something before you try to get out in this?" your tone isn't suggestive, and he never took it that way.

"I-uh..." he begins the same as you. He didn't want you to think that him going inside had been part of this plan originally. Didn't want you to think he was that kind of guy. But you weren't being seductive, your face reading as more concerned than anything.  "Yeah." he nods. "At least wait to see if the salt trucks start running through anytime soon." he says, corner of his mouth pulled back.

"Alright. Good." you say, a half smile at him before you move to hop out of the truck. You're taking your time making your way up the walk as he comes up behind you, hand hovering behind you just in case. You dig into your pockets inside your jacket.

You switch a lamp on in a narrow hallway, he takes in the hardwood floors, a colorful long rug lays down the hallway that leads to a darkened archway.  You throw your keys on a hook, taking off your layers. "Lock the door behind you please," you say, toeing off your boots. "Hang that cool ass coat up before I try to steal it." you say with a pleasant smile.

"Oh thanks." he says with a proud little grin, following instructions. 

You lean across a doorway, slapping a wall and hitting a switch, multiple lamps come on in the living room. "Go ahead and make yourself comfy." you say, moving your face back to him before turning to walk down the hall. "And don't mind Robert, he won't bother you."

"Robert?" he asks, eyes looking over the aesthetically pleasing room, walls decorated in paintings, framed records, and hanging guitars.  You were getting more and more appealing the longer he stayed around which enticed him to see where the night would go. He opens his phone to the weather, to see just how bad it's supposed to get.

"Yeah my cat." you call from the kitchen. A light switches on, another doorway illuminated to him as he looks up to see you moving around an exposed brick and steel filled kitchen.

"You named your cat Robert?" he laughs, looking up, his eyes landing on a small bookcase, filled with vinyl. His lips form an excited O as he moves and kneels in front of the records.

"Yeah, he's a little weird. He likes to sit in the flower pot in the window all and do nothing like a plant." you explain, he hears a tap turn on, a fridge open and close.

"So you named him Robert?" he asks with a questioning laugh.

Your head appears are the corner. "Yeah. Robert Plant." you say with a straight face as his head tilts with an exasperated expression of 'really?' at you. A huge smart assed grin appears on your face.

"Clever girl." he says, looking back to the shelves.

"I'm starving Declan, you want something?" your hand rests on your rounded out hip.

"What ya got?" he asks, raising and moving to lean in the doorway as you stand before an open fridge.

"Well. I was thinking some grilled cheese and bacon or something."

"Fuck yes." he says in a drawn-out deep way that makes you immediately turn and laugh at him.

"My sentiments exactly." you say, moving to retrieve the ingredients and plant yourself in front of the stove. He's planted himself in front of the records, you hear noises of approval so you think his review of your taste will be good.

"Oh hey little man!" you hear him exclaim. Robert must've decided to appear. You hear the familiar meow. "Oh you're a cute, big-eyed thing aren't you?" you hear him coo, the sweet tone making you smile. Robert did have a bit of a mushed face, bless him, with big orange eyes that were a touch too googly for his fluffy calico body, but you loved him just the same. "What a funky little dude." you hear him praise the meowing ball of fluff. You laugh out loud at the comment.

"No one wanted to adopt him because he is a little disproportioned, the poor baby." you explain. "But I saw him and his scruffy little face and I just fell in love with him."

He smiles contently at the cat, your words just giving him more reason to like you, you were a low key sweetheart, he could tell that much in all the...six or so hours he'd known you. How was it only that much time? You felt like old friends already. The cat quickly loses interest and goes towards the delicious smell coming from the kitchen. He moves back to inspecting your musical compatibility, you were doing very well so far. Rock and Roll in general, a touch of harder, a touch of softer. Good bit of Motown and disco, some newer looking records that he didn't know of and this intrigued him.

You walk into the room, a plate in each hand, each holding two grilled cheese sandwiches, multicolored cheese and bacon chunks oozing out the side. "C'mon." you motion your head towards the couch.

"I knew that smell was making my mouth water but they look even better than they smell somehow." he says, licking his lips at the sight. So he was motivated by food it seemed, and who could blame him. It wasn't like you learned how to cook because you hated food.

You set yours down on the coffee table before retreating into the kitchen and returning with bottled water, two cups, and a small teapot. You pour him a cup, your hands steady as the liquid steamed.

"They could taste like shit." you say with a straight face and he laughs, taking the plate from you as you sit cross-legged on the sofa next to him.

"There's no way in hell." he says, both hands on the sandwich already. You place the plate in your lap and move to take a bite. You both moan on contact.

"Fuck." you groan.

"Shit." he exclaims. "Bell, these are amazing." he says, another bite taken before the first is even swallowed. You can't help but feel proud. When the only other person you cook for, your friend Charlotte, is super picky it's harder to enjoy cooking because you so rarely got an enthusiastic reaction like his was without any coaxing.

"Thanks." you say after swallowing, not inhaling yours in the same manner, you sip your tea and watch him happily devour the plate of food quickly. You aren't even finished with your first sandwich and you give him a closed mouth, happy smile.

"These representative of your taste in music?" he asks, cutting the silence, hand motioning towards the bookcase.

"Oh yeah. I mean, I usually just listen to one of the music apps but I'm still a sucker for vinyl for things I really like." you nod in explanation. "Also just stuff I find at flea markets that strikes me as interesting, so it's a mixed bag. I just like some of the old album art."

"Oh yeah I get that." he says with a nod, eyes moving to the walls. "Like these?" he asks, the framed series of records on the wall to your right.

"Yeah, except that one." you point to one in the corner. "That's the first one I ever played on that we did at the studio."

"Guitar I'm assuming?" he nods to the two hanging on the wall, one a worn acoustic and one a matte black axe. What an interesting combination, he thought.

"Assuming right." you say after chewing another bite. "I went through a real big 80's metal phase and bought the axe on a whim." you chuckle while you chew.

"Looks cool as hell." he says with an impressed pursing of his lips.

"Agreed." you grin smugly before sipping your tea.

"You get to play a lot on the stuff you record down there?" he's leaned back on the couch now, phone left on the coffee table by yours, eyes intently watching you.

"Sometimes. I do rhythm and the technical aspects the most. But on that one I had to stand in for their guitarist after he got in a fight and broke some fingers...so I stepped in." you elaborate, finishing off your sandwiches.

"That sounds really cool. Seriously." he gives an enthusiastic series of nods.

"Well I think being a bar owner sounds cool." you say with a shrug.

"Sometimes." he says with a nod, withholding his usual enthusiasm so you change the subject.

"What's the verdict on the weather?" you ask, taking the plates to the kitchen.

"Mmmm..." he hums, looking it up on his phone, you walk from the kitchen, switching off the light and moving to the big window in the living room.

By the noise you make he knows the verdict of your judgment on the aggression of the storm to not be favorable. "I'm afraid it's not good, dude." you say, still looking out the window and shaking your head.

"This says much the same." he grumbles, raising to stand behind you and get a look himself. The roads still untouched, his truck already covered in a layer of snow.

"Uhhh...Declan?" you say hesitantly.

"Yeah Bells?" he asks, you both look to each other.

"You're gonna have to stay. You realize that right?" the corner of mouth draws up in thought.

"Is that..." he starts, pausing to shift his eyes for a moment. "Is that okay?" he hesitantly asks. "I don't want you to think that's what this was about."

"Don’t worry,  we're on the same page. I didn't want you to think I was getting fresh with you. You're just...you're nice and I don't want you putting yourself in danger in this." you admit.

"Well aren't you sweet." he smiles down at you.

"Eh. Wait till you deal with me in the morning and then see if you want to say that." you laugh, shutting the curtains. "I'm gonna grab some blankets." you say, moving into the closed door off a small hallway near the corner of the living room.

You appear again, a stack of comforters and pillows that tower over your head. As soon as he see's you with them he moves to take them from you.

"Couch is a pull-out, by the way. No way your tall ass is gonna be comfy otherwise." you laugh as you move pillows.

"You don't have to move stuff on my account." he hurriedly says, setting down the pillows into an empty chair.

"Hush, you brought me home and didn't have to, I can move some metal a few feet for you," you say with the shake of your head. "You can pull the coffee table over there though." you point to the far side of the room. 

So you've got it all out, blankets, pillows, space heater, all boxes checked.

"Alright. Remotes are there if you can't sleep, phone chargers on the side table, get whatever you want out of the kitchen. I'm the door on the left if you need me." you motion to the dark wooden door in the small hallway he'd seen you retreat to earlier. "You good?" you inquire, eyebrows high at him.

"More than, sweetheart, you talk about me being nice." he says with a smirk.

"Like I said. Just wait." you nod and chuckle. You move to switch off the lights, the glow of the space heater now the main source of illumination. "Night Declan." you lilt as you round the corner.

"Night Bella." he says in a soft, sweet tone that you let make your face form into a girlish smile since he can no longer see it.

CHAPTER 2