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seospicybin · 9 months

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TOO HOT TO HANDLE.

EXTRA HOT REUNION

Lee Know x reader. (s)

Too Hot To Handle Masterlist.

Synopsis: You and Minho are having a Too Hot To Handle reunion with other contestants to catch up on the life after the retreat. (7,2k words)

Author's note: Merry Christmas! Hope you enjoy my gift to you ❤️

HOST: Welcome to the Too Hot To Handle reunion! Today, we're going to get all the updates on your favorite couples and what happens once they return to the real world. And I know, you're all dying to know if the couples are still together or not but in the meantime, let's find out if our sexy group of people remember all the times they broke the rules.

AGNES: Uh, I did a lot [cringes]

LUCA: I wish I had broken more rules. [Laughs]

YOU: The kiss Agnes and I did with Jack.

JAI: [Counts with fingers] There's just a lot of 'em.

BRYAN: Uhm... I'm the accountant, remember?

MINHO: The sex?

YOU: Then I broke more rules with Minho.

AGNES: Oh, the kiss with Jack!

JACK: Just once but I kissed the two hottest girls in the retreat [grins]

HOST: Here's the couple who broke half of those rule breaks and managed to win the show. Welcome back, lovebirds!

MINHO: [Waves hand]

YOU: Hi, gorgeous! [Smiles]

HOST: You guys won. Congratulations! [Claps]

YOU: Thanks, girl!

MINHO: Thank you.

HOST: So, what are you guys doing with the money? Are you guys sharing it? Or maybe... saving it for the wedding? [Chuckles]

MINHO: I make her keep all the money.

YOU: He insists that I handle it.

HOST: Uh-oh. I sense something wrong. What is it? Tell us all about it...

MINHO: [Shrugs]

YOU: Ugh!

MINHO: We were supposed to go on this trip together.

YOU: [rolls eyes]

HOST: Girl, I can see you holding back. Spill!

YOU: [Sighs] Well, since I'm taking care of the money, I thought it would be nice to go on a trip together with the money we've won. On the day we were supposed to leave, we had an argument so yeah...

HOST: Oh, no [frowns]

YOU: I booked the flights, the Airbnb... I have to cancel all of that because he canceled last minute like... [exhales air]

HOST: Minho, you want to add to that?

MINHO: That's all true. We argued on the day of the flight and I canceled.

YOU: And I texted him, you know, he could have still come, we could sort things out face to face but no, he didn't reply to any of my texts.

HOST: If I were you, I would have still gone on that vacation.

YOU: Honestly, I was looking forward to that trip, I want to spend time with him and have fun... [sighs] I was a little heartbroken by that.

HOST: Just to clarify... are you still together or not?

YOU: I'm just going to let it out of my chest that I... I will always have love for Minho and I support him, I'll always be attracted to him. I—

HOST: I'm sorry, girl but you have to hold it right there and we'll get back to you later.

HOST: If there's one thing that the villa proves is that people are complicated and one person knows this more than most... it's Zara!

ZARA: [Blows kisses] Hi, hello! That's actually the nicest way to put it, it's complicated [laughs]

HOST: Let me tell you, I was sad to see you got eliminated [pouts]

ZARA: Aww... but that's the thing, I came home not feeling sad at all, and to feel that, I usually have to go out with friends and have a few drinks. But I was sitting at my home thinking of what Lana taught me and what I'd learned... [smiles] It was all a good life lesson.

HOST: What made you feel that way about your elimination?

ZARA: I don't know, I woke up feeling like I learned enough in the retreat, obviously, I didn't want to keep hurting myself and get myself into more drama... [inhales] it's for the best.

HOST: Are you seeing anyone at the moment?

ZARA: Yeah and he's amazing, he's sweet and fun and he's just as obsessed with me as I do for him [chuckles]

HOST: I love that, yeah. You just feel like want to eat him, right?

ZARA: [Laughs]

HOST: But in regards to what happened to you and Bryan, have you spoken to each other ever since? Are you on good terms?

ZARA: He sent me some texts once the show ended but that's just that [thinly smiles] let's just leave it at that.

HOST: It was fun catching up with you but I have to go and talk to Agnes and Jai.

ZARA: Send my love for them [Blows kisses]

HOST: And I am sending you my love. Cheers, babe!

HOST: I cannot wait to find out if they're still horny for each other, it's one of my favorite couples, Jai and Agnes!

AGNES: Hi, hi! [Makes smooching sounds]

JAI: G'day! [Grins]

HOST: I never knew I missed that grin of yours, Jai! [Chuckles]

JAI: I know [grins] I'm doing it for you.

HOST: Shush it, boy! Your girl is here!

AGNES: I'm very aware of how flirtatious my man could be. But I'm watching you [squints eyes]

JAI: [Holds both hands up]

HOST: Tell us what happened after the show. Are you guys still naughty and horny?

JAI: Oh, yes.

AGNES: [Laughs]

JAI: She stayed with me for a while, back when I was still having a roommate and he asked me if we were alright. We kept going at it that it concerned him.

AGNES: Oh, my God!

HOST: Oh! You two are just so passionate [laughs]

AGNES: [Nods] [giggles]

JAI: We are!

HOST: Now, for the most important question, are you guys still together or not?

JAI: We had a little break then we just kind of... found a way back to each other.

AGNES: [smiles] We are still together. Yay!

HOST: Oh, thank Goodness!

JAI: A month ago, is it? We took a trip together and eventually met her sister and her family.

AGNES: It was unplanned! [Laughs] [shows hand] There's no ring yet, everyone.

HOST: Jai? Any plans to put a ring on it then?

AGNES: [Laughs]

JAI: Uh... to be continued?

HOST: It's been lovely, you guys. I hope you two stay happy.

AGNES: And horny?

HOST: Yes [laughs] Thank you and see you [blows kisses]

HOST: Before we get to the final interview, the guests are sharing their best moments in the villa.

AGNES: Oddly enough, I missed the dressing room, I guess that's because we gossip so much in there [giggles]

JACK: The kiss, obviously [laughs]

LUCA: The first party in the villa. That was... just wild and so much fun.

MAISIE: The final date I had with Luca was just romantic, probably the nicest date I ever had.

YOU: It's all the times Sabine and I hang out in the pool. Then there's also the time when Minho said he likes me, with the cushion and everything [laughs] that was just so special.

BRYAN: Just having with the guys, I guess, we were fooling around a lot, just lots of laughs.

HOST: Finally, we have come to the most awaited moment. Let me take a deep breath first [inhales] [exhales] Okay, we're ready now.

YOU: Where were we? [Laughs]

MINHO: The canceled trip and you were sad about it.

YOU: Yes, that... we had arguments like that not once or twice, I think that's just our love language [laughs]

HOST: That's kind of sexy, actually.

YOU: At that time, I just knew I had to be the one putting on the big girl pants, again [rolls eyes] if he didn't want to come to me then I'll just come to him.

HOST: Oh, my God! Is it like one of those movie scenes where the girl chasing the guy—

YOU: yeah, it's pretty much like that but the problem was... it was around Christmas and you know how hard it is to get a flight during holidays, it was a nightmare but I went through all that to see him.

HOST: And...?

YOU: It was cold and snowing, I dragged behind me, and knocked on his door, expecting that his face would light up when he saw me...

HOST: Oh, no, I sense a 'but' coming...

MINHO: I was just telling you to stop knocking [shrugs]

YOU: That's what he did, he scolded me for knocking on his door.

HOST: It keeps getting worse... I don't think I want to hear the rest.

MINHO: We're still together, we made up that day.

HOST: Oh, thank you Minho. I was close to having a cardiac arrest [clutches chest]

YOU: [Smiles] I didn't mean to scare anyone, sorry. We're still together, we still argue sometimes but we're still together, thank God!

HOST: That's good to hear so what are the plans now? Besides trying to be civil with each other [laughs]

YOU: Oh, before I forget, Minho also said the L word that day [giggles]

HOST: What? How could you hide it from it?

YOU: We were exchanging Christmas presents and he casually dropped the L bomb.

MINHO: Casually?

YOU: Honey... [laughs] I didn't say I don't like it. See? [Sighs] We need a couple counseling.

HOST: That's not a bad idea [chuckles]

YOU: I think it was special that there were only the two of us, it was intimate and heartfelt, and it couldn't be more perfect [smiles]

HOST: Minho, that... I didn’t know you were such a gentle guy.

MINHO: I've been meaning to say it, I just... didn't have the right time to say it.

YOU: Because we're always arguing.

HOST: [Laughs] I love that you guys complete each other's sentences.

YOU: I know, that's why I love us. That, and also because the make-up sex is just... [moans] [thumbs up]

HOST: Ugh, okay, you got me jealous now. I'll leave you two back to arguing then [laughs] Best wishes to you two, my loves! [Blows kisses]

HOST: It's been a blast catching up with all the casts of Too Hot To Handle Season 2. Thank you so much for watching, see you next time!

LAST CHRISTMAS

"I don't chase, I attract."

You say those words out loud and manifest them to the world when you meditate in the morning but here you are, getting off the plane to chase a guy who canceled your planned trip at the last minute and not replying to your calls or texts.

You might have attracted him but nobody tells you that you have to chase him around too.

The layers of clothes that should have shielded you from the cold only make your body hot and soon drenched in sweat.

Why there are so many stairs? Why Minho has to live up on the hill? Why is your suitcase so heavy? Why did you pack so many clothes? Why are you here at all?

Despite the fatigue that slowly taking over you, you manage to conquer the last flight of stairs and arrive at his house.

After hours of bustling through the airport and the traffic, not to mention, dragging your luggage through the street, you're aware of how you look and it's not how you want Minho to see you when he opens the door.

But he should be appreciative of your intentions to come here and surprise him.

Right?

Can't believe you have second thoughts when you're already standing right in front of his door, why couldn't you have these thoughts before you got on the plane?

You throw away your worries and stop thinking altogether, your hands start knocking on the door. Once, twice... no one opens the door.

Oh, God? What if he's not home? What if—

You keep knocking on his door in case he didn't hear you the first two times. Your knocking is almost turning into a banging when he finally pulls the door open.

Minho stands there and looks at you with your hand hanging mid-air.

"You can stop knocking now," he says, scolding you for the aggressive knocking.

You don't expect confetti or cake or grand entrance music, but not this either, just you and him, looking at each other in silence.

Another moment passes and Minho opens the door wider, "Why are you just standing there? It's cold, get in!" He scolds you again.

It's only been a few minutes but he has scolded you twice already and weirdly, you obey him, getting into his house, pulling your luggage behind you.

Something is beeping from inside the house and Minho runs to check it, you allow yourself to go further inside. You take off your coat and purse, putting them on top of your suitcase before continuing to look around his house.

It's not small, not big either and it's obvious that he keeps it tidy and clean. You expect nothing less than that.

It's like seeing a movie scene, except that it's real. Minho looks exceptionally gorgeous in his dark sweater with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and one hand that is busy stirring something in a pot.

"Go wash your hands!" He orders.

You're too deep in your daydream to listen to him the first time and only get what he said the second time.

"Dinner is almost ready," he adds, closing the pot with a lid and then turning off the stove.

"Where's the—"

"The door behind you," he answers your unfinished question.

You're too tired to bicker with him and the smell of the soup he's cooking is appetizing, making your stomach rumbling in hunger.

Is it why Minho is not that happy to see you? You look horrible with your eyes looking dark and heavy with exhaustion, your hair is greasy and stuck to your forehead.

There's no time to dig into your suitcase to get your toiletry bag so you do everything to make yourself look presentable, wash your face, and brush your hair with your fingers, hoping that it's enough for now.

Minho has already set everything on the dining table when you return from the bathroom, looking at the food he's serving, your stomach is getting impatient on being filled with some home-cooked meals.

"This looks good," you say, taking a seat on the dining table.

He doesn't say anything to your compliment but goes to the kitchen to bring back a pitcher of water, then sits opposite you.

Minho immediately starts digging into his food and as much as you want to do the same, you're hoping to hear something from him other than commands.

"Do you perhaps... want to say something to me?" You carefully say.

He continues eating, taking a few things from different plates and eating them with a spoonful of rice.

"Like... 'oh, what a nice surprise!' or 'I'm happy to see you, honey'," you recite a few lines you wished to hear him saying yet he seems to enjoy his food too much to pay attention to what you're saying.

You softly sigh and pick up your spoon, "A hug would be nice," you mumble.

He glances up from his bowl of rice and looks at you, "You must be hungry. Eat!"

You cave in, obeying him again, and eat the food just like he ordered. Maybe because you were hungry, you feel less upset now that your stomach is filled.

You help with the dishes after dinner, drying your hands with a towel once you're finished then refill your glass with more red wine before leaning against the counter, watching Minho slicing up fruits, he looks so relaxed but maybe because he's in his element, in his own place.

"You're different at home," you mutter, then take a small sip of your wine.

He glances at you for a second before focusing back on the task in hand, the hand gripping the knife showcasing the evident veins on his forearm.

"Off-guard," you point out.

He pauses cutting an apple then looks at you, "Should I be on guard?"

To other people, Minho may seem like he's trying to pick a fight with you but that's just how he communicates, a bit snarky with a whole lot of nonchalance in it.

It's a good thing that you've been with him long enough to know how to handle him. You put your wine glass away and smile, "You're the one holding a knife, I should be the one on guard."

He smirks hearing your words and it took you this long to make him do that.

"So... will you put the knife down so you can kiss your girlfriend who came all the way to see you?" You sweetly ask, tilting your head to the side and batting your eyelashes at him even though you're not sure these flirting tricks would work on him.

You see that he loosens the grip around the knife and you come closer to him, "That's it, easy, easy..." you playfully say.

You take his other hand and let the knife drop onto the cutting board, turning him to face you. Holding his eyes in a gaze, you slide your hands up his arms then reunite them on the nape of his neck.

"I missed you," you softly mutter but your heart is close to shattering.

"So much," you say all of those words out while deeply looking into his dark brown eyes as they stare down into yours.

"Do you miss me?"

Minho hates it when you're insecure like this but you can't help it, it's just happens when you care so much about someone so let's hope he still knows that.

Then he leans in and kisses you, answering your question with a fiery kiss that melts your worries away until the only thing that remains is the warm feeling he brings with those lips.

When he pulls away, you forget the reason why you ever doubted him.

He then rests his hand on your back, he then slowly and deliberately blinks his eyes before saying, "I missed you too."

It's nice to hear that you're not the only one suffering from the longing. You smile knowing that he thought of you when you weren't here with him even though you're sure not as many times as you thought of him.

"Okay, good, the feeling is still mutual," you awkwardly say with a dry chuckle.

What can you say? Dating Minho is not for the faint of heart, it takes a lot of patience and courage, and it takes... a lot of things.

But is he worth it? The answer is Minho worth everything and more.

The shower helps you get rid of the stress that’s been clinging onto you and you come out refreshed, not feeling tired at all. If anything, you feel excited to spend the rest of the night with Minho, catching up on a lot of things.

Before that, you make yourself presentable this time, putting on your night dress and drying your hair real quick. You notice the toiletry bag Minho brought to the villa is on the sink and it seems like he packed it recently. You shrug it off, keeping your skincare routine brief, impatiently wanting to join Minho on his bed.

On your way to the bedroom, you also notice that he packed a suitcase in his closet, you wonder if he’s planning to go somewhere soon.

Minho is sitting on his bed reading a book, doing it so elegantly like he’s in a furniture TV ad.

“Are you going somewhere?” You get on the bed and lay on your stomach facing him.

“Huh?” He asks without looking away from his book.

You peek over to see the book he’s reading, from the cover you can see that it’s either a mystery, thriller, or horror book, it could be all of that combined.

“I saw your suitcase, packed,” you tell him.

He lowers his book to look at you, “unpacked, you mean,” he says.

Ah, that explains it but looking at how he keeps his things in his house tidy, there’s no way he lets his things stay in his suitcase for too long.

“You should dry your hair. You’ll catch a cold,” he says nonchalantly yet oozing with affection.

This is why you love him, he’s hot and cold, always keeping you on your toes, dating him is one endless thrilling ride.

“I just didn’t dry the end,” you tell him.

The talk about the suitcase reminds you of something. You roll over to the side of the bed and open your suitcase, taking two gift boxes you actually prepared for tomorrow. You bring them over to the bed, sitting next to Minho and place the smaller box first onto his lap.

“Merry Christmas,” You say with a bright smile on your face.

Minho raises an eyebrow at you then glares down at the gift on his lap, “What is it?”

“Your Christmas present from me,” you simply answer.

He seems way too calm for someone who receives a gift from his girlfriend and not sure you’re going to get used to this.

“Open it!” you impatiently say because he keeps observing the box and doing nothing to find out what’s inside.

He finally takes the lid off and sees the bracelet inside. You’re smiling as he takes it out to observe it. You hurriedly help him putting it around his wrist.

“Do you like it?” You ask once you clasped the ends together.

“Did you buy it with the prize money?” He asks with a sly grin.

Why he’s making it hard for you? You must admit that Minho makes you realize that you have a lot of patience in you. You take a deep, deep sigh and put on a big smile for him.

“I’m glad you like it and you’re very welcome,“ you respond, not going to make this supposed-to-be-a-heartfelt-moment into an argument.

It’s time to hand him the second box, instead of putting it on his lap, you drop it right on his crotch as a way to get back to him. He doesn’t flinch but pulls the box closer to his chest before opening it. You put your hand on top of the lid, stopping him from opening it.

“It’s not for you,” you tell him.

His eyebrows furrowed in confusion, “Then why did you give it to me?”

“Because I know you don’t have a Christmas present prepared for me so I got you one,” you explain.

It takes him a moment to process your words, “So, you bought this for me to gift to you?”

“Yes,” you answer without a beat.

He bursts into laughter and the box is shaking along with his body as he laughs, “So it- this one for you?”

You take the box from him and smile at him, “Thank you for the present, honey,” you say, then place a quick peck on his lips.

You put on an act, pretending not to know what’s inside the box and slowly uncovering it, taking the lid off with low exciting squeals coming out of your parted mouth. You tear through the wrapping paper and gasp at the sight of the content.

“Oh, my God! Honey…” You coo at him.

You take the pair of lingerie out of the box and show it to him, “This is so beautiful!” You exclaim with excitement even though you were the one who bought it.

“You like it?” He’s slyly smiling as he asks you.

“Are you kidding me? I love it!” You dramatically ask, clutching the gift close to your chest.

You lean in close and tilt your head to the side, “Ugh! You know me so well,” You sneer, then peck his lips.

“I’m glad you like it,” He coyly asks.

You put everything into the box and sigh, “I wanted to put them on and show them to you but…”

You put the lid back onto the box, excessively raising your shoulders, and slump them down as you let out another dramatic sigh, “I’m not in the mood.”

Minho snorts and puts away the boxes, stacking them on the bedside table, “Yeah, you’d better rest, you must be tired.”

And Minho always picks the worst time to be considerate towards you, you roll your eyes and stomp your feet as you walk back to your suitcase, tossing the lingerie into your suitcase and angrily shut it.

“But if you’re not tired, I would love to see you in them,” he says with a devilish smile dancing on his beautiful face.

Hate that you melt right away to his sweet consolidation, your foot is tapping the floor as you pretend to consider his request.

“Well… if you insist,” you say, grabbing the lingerie back from your suitcase.

You’re giggling as you walk to Minho’s closet, changing out of your night dress and putting the lingerie on. As you’re changing, you see Minho’s backpack sitting next to his “unpacked” suitcase. You don’t mean to snoop but it’s open, you can see what’s inside. Using your fingers, you pry it open wider and see that he has a plane ticket clamped between his passport, you reach down to take a look at it when he calls from you from the bedroom.

It feels as if you got caught stealing, you scramble to leave the closet and Minho is putting something into his bedside drawer when you come back. He looks at you, confused to see you standing in a silk robe that comes with the lingerie.

“That’s not the same as what I bought for you,” he playfully says, sitting on the edge of the bed facing you.

You come up to him and stop right in front of him, “Jeez, Minho! You’re not a kid anymore, unwrap your gift yourself,” you tell him with a cheeky smile.

It’s a good thing that he can’t hear how fast your heart is beating right now and it’s beating faster when he looks up, staring into your eyes as his hands reach for your silk robe, untying it until they part open.

You do the rest, sliding the silk robe down your arms and letting it fall onto the carpeted floor. You take a final step, closing the gap between you and him.

He places his hands on each side of your waist, his fingers teasing the thin straps of the lacy underwear but his eyes never stray away from yours even for a moment

“So…?” You curiously ask since he’s not saying anything the moment he sees them on you.

He glides his hands up to your back and draws you close until his lips land on your abdomen, inhaling your scent as he kisses it, making you flutter inside. After a while, he glances up at you and says, “Glad I bought it.”

That sends you into a laughing fit and at the same, he pulls you until you both collapse onto the bed.

A breathless gasp escapes your parted mouth as Minho inserts his fingers inside you, he uses two digits to find that spot that makes you let out another gasp, louder, almost inaudible.

He’s hovering above you as he starts pumping his fingers in and out of you at a steady pace and his face is so calm, a contrast to your state: a moaning mess under him.

He presses a kiss on you with tongue and teeth clashing in your mouth, his kisses are hungry, it feels as if he wants to eat you whole.

“Oh…” You moan again, feeling his fingers curl inside you.

Minho then drags his mouth down your chest, using his free hand he yanks down the cup of your bra just so he can suck on your nipple and leave it soaked and wet with his saliva. He continues his trail of wet kisses down your body and he stops with his head hanging between your legs, watching your eyes fluttering as he keeps pumping his fingers.

He pulls your underwear to the side and keeps it there, without wasting another second, he plants his mouth on your cunt, not caring how wet it is. He lifts his head for a moment, using the tip of his tongue to trace your folds and gently, circling your clit that is pulsating with so much desire.

Minho dives down into your wetness again and this time, he lands right on your clit and sucks hard on it.

“Oh, fu-“You can’t even finish your profanity, your voice is shaking and so are your legs.

You slip your hands into his hair, tugging at it as he keeps on sucking and it’s a fruitless effort to try to stop him, the more you try, the harder he sucks on your clit and the faster he pumps his fingers, making you overwhelmed with pleasure.

The only conclusion is Minho won’t stop until you

“I’m- oh, I’m cumming…” you whine, helplessly tugging at his hair.

He hovers above you again but now, he slowly puts his body on top of you, pinning you as he presses kisses on your lips, making you dizzy as he can’t stop kissing you until you run out of breath.

“Honey…” you sigh as you gently push his chest away.

You smile at him and put your hand on the back of his head, wanting to keep him close to you. As you catch your breath, you allow yourself to take a moment to enjoy this moment with him, placing a sweet kiss on his lips and then letting out a low sigh as you pull away.

“Gosh…how I missed you!” You pour out all of the emotions you’ve been keeping inside you and seal the hole in your heart with a kiss that yet again, takes your breath away.

It’s time to show him how much your body misses him. You pull the hem of his sweater and take it off of him to continue kissing him. Slowly, you roll him to the side until he lays next to you and overlaps half of his body with yours.

Minho lets you have the pleasure of doing whatever you want to him, he puts his hands over his head as your hand goes lower and slips it under his sweatpants, palming his member before letting it out.

You glance down to see how his cock is hardening in your hand, “Oh, he’s excited to see me,” you playfully mutter to him.

“What are you going to do then?” He coyly asks.

“Mmh…” you delightfully sigh as you pretend to think of an answer all the while your thumb is circling the tip of his cock.

“I just have so many ideas,” you answer him with a seductive tone.

To execute your ideas, you first get rid of his sweatpants then sit on his thick thighs. You seductively smile at him as you take hold of his cock in your hand again, slowly stroking it with your clothed cunt only inches away from it.

You both wanted it but what’s the fun in giving in to the temptations right away?

His cock is swollen and hard, so ready for you and you are just as eager to take him but refrained yourself. Instead of that, you lean down to lick the tip of his cock with your tongue. The second time, you place a lick from the base up to the tip and then stroke it again.

“How you like that?” you tease him.

Minho doesn’t say anything, he remains calm but his body tells you otherwise, not only his cock, his body reddens all over, his chest, his ears, his cheeks… he’s completely turned on.

You tease him by rubbing his cock to your clothed core, “Mmh… yeah,” you hum in pleasure.

To tease him more, you put his cock inside your underwear, soaking it with your essence as you start grinding on him, unknowingly teasing yourself too in the process.

The yes he’s giving you… oh, it’s so intense, so full of lust, he looks at you like you’re the sexiest thing he ever laid his eyes on, making you feel so wanted, and admired. You suddenly feel a charge of confidence surging all over you and you lean down, kissing him with so much passion until you drain all the air in your lungs.

“Screw this!” you mutter.

Carefully, you push his cock inside you and ease yourself down, taking him little by little until he’s fully sheathed inside you. You just sit there to adjust yourself to his size, closing your eyes as your hands start touching yourself.

Minho gets his hands on you too, he places them on your thighs and glides them up the sides of your body. You take his hands, using them to cup your breasts and fondle them together. You’re lowly moaning as he squeezes on them.

Minho only stops just to pull you close so he can kiss you, putting his arms around you to not let you go and without warning, he starts bucking his hips into you. You can tell he’s smirking against your lips while you let out a broken moan.

“That’s not-oh, not fair!” you mumble yet pressing another kiss on him.

Minho insists on you keeping the lingerie on, he ends up being the one taking it off of you and tossing it onto the bedroom floor. He made you climax twice already but Gosh, looking at him passionately making love to you, you can already tell you’re going to climax for the third time.

“Oh, my God! You feel so good,” You murmur into his shoulders with your fingers clawing his back.

Minho crashes his lips on you, deepening his kiss as he thrusts harder into you. He can sense that you’re about to cum again, he adds intensity to his thrusts and goes as shallow as possible.

Your eyes are screwed shut, feeling the knot inside you keep tightening, getting close to your-

Minho slows down, knowing that you just cum around him and the way he kisses, it’s so gentle as if he knows that you’re already overly stimulated.

You hold him close as you come down from your high, returning his kisses while keeping him inside you.

“You’re not going to stop, are you?”

You brush his hair back with your fingers, putting all the hair covering his face and holding his jaw, “Don’t stop, honey,” you whine.

Nothing gets him off than hearing how needy you are for him. You wrap your legs tighter around his waist and pull him closer, “I don’t want you to stop until you cum inside me,” you whisper into his ear.

That seems to work as planned, Minho picks up the pace of his thrusts, harder and deeper, giving what you both wanted.

You give up on holding in your moans, you let them spill out of your parted mouth and as he gets closer to his release, you press a haste kiss on his mouth.

“Want you to cum inside me, honey,” you whine again.

You have to pause a few times as he mercilessly pulsates his hips against you and the bed creaks along to his movements.

“Oh, please, please!” you sigh.

“Minho, please!”

At this point, you can’t tell if you’re begging him to stop or keep going, the pain and pleasure start to blur into one. You hold onto his shoulders with fingers digging into this flesh and forming crescent marks on his warm, honey skin.

It takes Minho a few more thrusts to finally cum inside you, releasing all of his seed inside you as he collapses on top of you. You embrace him, holding him with so much love, and kiss him with all of your heart until it quakes inside your chest.

Minho hastily kisses your lips, then drags his mouth close to your ear, you’re already drowsy and tired from the day that you barely can keep your eyes open anymore. You can hear him mutter something into your ear but when you’re about to tell him to repeat it, you fall asleep instead.

"Honey, wake up!"

If it isn't because of the hand squeezing your asscheek, you wouldn't have budged from your sleep. When you try to open your eyes, they are heavy and you feel like taking another hour of sleep.

Then Minho bites at your arm, making you jolt on your bed in reaction.

"Minho!" You sharply gasp.

"Wake up!" He says again, now slapping at your ass cheek.

Your feet are kicking the duvet as you whine like a fussy kid, "It's too early."

You turn over on the bed, lying on your side to face him, and croak, "What time is it?"

"One."

"One a.m?"

Minho presses a kiss on your shoulder then gets up from the bed, "Come on, wake up!"

He walks out of the bedroom and leaves the door ajar. You force yourself away and rub your eyes before opening them.

The daylight is almost blinding you and you immediately shut your eyes again, scooting to the side and your hand reaches for your phone on the bedside table.

You tap the screen until it lights up, showing you that it's indeed one o'clock in the afternoon. You must be tired from the flights, dragging your suitcase up the hill in the cold, and then there was the sex, a lot of sex. You remember how you passed out not long after he cum inside you.

Oh no, you missed the whole Christmas morning and that's not the plan. You thought of how nice it would be to snuggle together with Minho on the sofa while having hot chocolate on Christmas morning.

Instead of that, you stand in front of the sink and feel horrified to see your reflection in the mirror, how tired and miserable you look after ten hours of sleep.

Instead of wearing your clothes, you stop by his closet and borrow one of his comfiest knitted sweaters. His suitcase and his backpack are still there, you assume he didn't know you were snooping into his stuff.

Well, there's another reason to snoop in further to see where he's going with the flight ticket. You check for the situation first and waddle back inside, taking his passport out of the bag.

Minho looks so hot even on a government-issued ID photo and before you forget the main goal here, you flip it open to see the details of his flight ticket and you see it.

Unless he has someone else to see in the city you live in, you can safely assume that he planned on coming to see you too, and probably wants to spend the new year with you.

"I knew it!" You exclaim to yourself with a giddy smile on your face.

You wanted to remain calm and pretend that you didn't see the flight ticket and everything but... you can't help but smile when you see him sipping his coffee in the kitchen.

Minho is what people say as one with the softest heart builds the hardest shell. He acts cold, nonchalant, and a bit mean, but that's how you know he really cares for you, and he's genuine and sincere about you.

You come up to him and throw your arms around him, not wasting time kissing his lips, putting all of your affection into this long kiss, and pull away with a gasp.

"Merry Christmas," you happily say to him.

Minho smiles and returns the kiss with a quick peck on your lips, "Coffee?"

You eagerly nod and you wait on the sofa, taking a cookie out of a plate full of them, watching the snow floating in the air through the window.

"Thank you," you mutter as he hands you your cup of steaming hot coffee.

"This is good," you tell him, taking another cookie from the plate.

"I made them," he casually says like he didn't put any effort into baking such delicious cookies.

Minho is good at a lot of things so when he said he made these cookies, you didn't doubt him even for a second.

You place a kiss on his cheek, "These are really good," you tell him again.

You might have missed the Christmas morning but there's always a time to snuggle close to him. It's quiet and warm, it's such a nice moment and to be able to spend it with him is one that you're most grateful for.

Suddenly, Minho takes something from the end of the sofa and shows it to you.

"For you?"

You stop chewing your cookie and put the rest away, "For me?"

He nods and coyly sips his coffee, watching you excitedly unwrapping the gift to find out what's inside.

You gasp as you see a necklace inside, white gold with a small pendant, delicate and beautiful.

"I love it," you tell him with a gleeful smile.

It's always the thoughts that counts. The fact that he thought of you when he picked this gift worth more than the gift itself.

"You should be. I bought it with my own money," he pokes fun at you.

You pout at him, handing him the box so he can put it on for you. You hold all of your hair up in your hands as he puts the necklace around your neck, safely clasping the ends together.

"I love it," you mutter again, letting go of your hair so you can bring his head close and give him a sweet little kiss on his lips.

"Thank you," you say as you break the kiss with a soft caress on his cheek.

He smiles and places a kiss on your cheek, then your jaw. When you think he's going to kiss your neck next, he brings his mouth close to your ear, and ever so softly he murmurs, "I love you."

Your heart shrinks and the next second, it expands twice its size, overflowing with warm feelings. You feel like flying, riding on the clouds of those three words.

"What did you say?" You ask with a foolish smile on your face.

He slyly smiles and sips his coffee, "You heard," he says.

"I heard but..." you lean in close to his side and hold his hand, "can you say it one more time?"

Your sweet smile and the fondness in your eyes are not enough to make him cave in. You should have known it wouldn't be that easy.

You pout and then sigh, but you feel the need to return those words to him. It's not because you have to, but you have known for a while that he is not just a passing fancy, you see a future with him, and as silly as it sounds, you can see yourself growing old with him.

What you have for him is real and it's powerful, it's taking over you.

You hold his jaw and turn his head to look at you, you lean in close until your noses meet in the middle, softly you nuzzle them together while softly smiling at him.

"I love you," you say back with all of your heart that it aches.

Then you place your lips against him and let your heart pour out, flowing all of your emotions into the kiss.

When you open your eyes, his eyes are staring straight into yours. He holds your gaze and lovingly, he says those three words again for you.

"I love you."

And in his eyes, you find comfort, safety, you find a home you want to live in, forever.

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danses-with-dogmeat · 2 months

Text

Fallout Characters' Lover's Embrace Quotes -- Extras

(Original ask): Hello 😊 I absolutely adore everything you do for the characters you write for! You get the interactions and such perfect every time I read something new 💕 I have a personal headcanon, not full blown request if you don't want it to be, question for you. If you could romance the companions in New Vegas like in 4, what would some of their lovers embrace quotes be? I love how you think and can't wait to hear what ideas you have for any of the characters ❤ have a good day

So I didn't actually get any requests for these specific characters that I can remember, but I had this in my WIPs folder, and had a good time looking back on them, so here they are!

As always, if you would like me to add any characters to this, please let me know, and I'll be happy to 😊

Also, here's a link to my first Lover's Embrace Quotes post with the FO3 and FNV Companions.

Just a heads up, too, a bit of nsfw below the cut (nothing explicit, but definitely some implicit stuffs).

Fallout 4:

Codsworth:

“Prepared to face the day, sir/madam?”

“Oh my, now that was exciting!”

“Your hair, sir/miss. Allow me to fix it for you?”

“Good morning, sir/madam!”

“My, you are truly amazing, my sweet.”

Deacon:

“Whoa, when did you get here?”

“Up for one more round? No?... Yes?”

“Just another minute. Then we can kick some ass or whatever.”

“Gooood morning! And it is a beautiful day out in the Commonwealth, the weather is looking mighty fine in this– Oh, you’re up? Okay, just making sure.”

“Up and at ‘em, right boss?”

“Wow. That was fun.”

Maxson:

“Sleep well?”

“I’ll take that over morning drills any day. No, I don’t need you to tell Kells that.”

“Head’s still swimming…”

“Don’t make me get up, not yet.”

“Damn… Incredible.”

Nick:

“Can’t take my eyes off you….”

“Ain’t I the luckiest synth there is?”

“Say… where’d my cuffs get off to, doll? May need ‘em for later.”

"Well, that's one way to get the coolant pumping." (I know this is already a line of his, but I mean come on. It's too good not to use)

“What do you say, about ready to go?”

“That sure was somethin’, sweetheart.”

Sturges:

“Mornin’ gorgeous/handsome.”

“Ain’t nothin’ better than wakin’ up like that.”

“You really are incredible, you know that?”

“What a perfect way to start my day… wakin’ up next to you.”

“*whistles* That was somethin,’ baby.”

X6-88:

“Good morning, ma’am/sir.”

“Awake quite yet?”

“Damn.”

“Sleep well, ma’am/sir?”

“I… Didn’t know I could feel like that…”

Fallout 3:

Mr. Burke:

“I suppose there are worse ways to wake up.”

“Care for some coffee?”

“Just a moment more, sweet one.”

“Ahh, you vixen/scoundrel.”

“Just turn over. It can’t be time yet.”

Harkness:

“Starting our day off right, I see.”

“It can’t really be time to get up, can it?”

“Mm, good morning…”

“What’re you… Oh? Well, a few more minutes, then.”

“Babe, have you seen my handcuffs?”

Sarah Lyons:

“Up and at ‘em. Come on.”

“Oh, good, you’re finally up.”

“The others better not have heard us.”

“Quit your groaning, it’s not that early.”

“Best to have a shower after all that.”

Fallout New Vegas:

Benny:

“Ring-a-ding, baby. Time to rise.”

“Easy there, squeeze. Save some for tonight.”

“Can’t be time yet. Stay here awhile, lemme hold ya.”

“Geeze baby, you wear me out.”

“24-karate, pussy cat. Just platinum...”

Colonel Hsu:

"Right, then... Up we get."

“Well… that was an excellent performance. Top marks from me, private.”

“Rise and shine, love.”

“Now that was worth waking for at this hour.”

“Wish we had a few more moments…”

Joshua Graham:

“Just… divine.”

“Care to pray with me this morning?”

“Wake up, dear one.”

“Praise be to Him who lights the sky…”

“Ahh… still, your love heals me.”

Ulysses:

"Be slow, beloved. We can take our time."

“Another sunrise…”

“Time to wake.”

“So… It wasn’t a dream. Hm.”

*huffing* “Need another rest after that.”

Victor:

“Shoo, didn’t know you had that in ya.”

“Where to today, pardner?”

“You look like I dug ya outta that grave again, hehe. Only teasin’.”

“Well, how-dy.”

“Mornin,’ pardner. How’d you sleep?”

Vulpes:

“Awake at last? Good.”

“Mm. Expect the same from me tonight, courier.”

“Ave, amica mea.”

“Ah, to hear my name sound from your lips… A fine sound this morning.”

“Expergiscimini. The sun has risen.”

Yes Man:

“Wow, Six, that was the best way to start the day!”

“I sure am glad to have you by my side.”

“Rise and shine!”

“What a great morning it is!”

“Boy, that sure was fun! Ready to make a difference today?”

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sydsaint · 6 months

Text

Drink Prime Baby!!!!

Summary: Logan realizes that he might have a hopeless crush on his manager at the worst possible time. Five minutes before his triple-threat match on Mania weekend.

The alarm on your phone blares from it's spot leaning up against your vanity mirror. 'Mania Time' flashes across the screen in bold letters, reminding you that it's almost time to head out and meet up with Logan.

You finish curling your hair and switch off the curler before grabbing the hairspray and dousing your hair so every curl stays neatly in place. "There." You smile at yourself in the mirror. "Okay. I can clean this up later. Logan is probably waiting for me." You push all of your vanity supplies away from you and silence your alarm.

You pocket away your phone and grab your security badge off the back of the chair before heading to the door. You exit the ladies changing room and head off to find Logan backstage.

After weaving through the hectic backstage are for a while, you spot Logan's business partner and friend, JJ ahead. You quicken your pace and head over to him.

"JJ, hey! Any idea where Logan is at?" You walk up to JJ and greet him.

JJ turns around and flashes a friendly smile at you. "YN, hey. Damn, you're looking nice." He comments on your done-up appearance.

"Well it is Mania weekend." You giggle and flip your hair playfully. "You're looking all done up and nice as well. No prime costume for you this year?" You tease him playfully.

"Logan's got someone else for that this year." JJ chuckles. "And speaking of Logan. There he is now." He nods behind you.

You turn around and spot Logan as he comes into the room looking ready to go. You smile at him and wait for him to head over to you and JJ.

"Logan! There you are, champ! How are you feeling about tonight?" You ask him.

"YN!" Logan reaches your side and gazes down at you, a soft expression plastered on his face.

JJ watches his friend greet you with a larger than life smile. He's known Logan for a long time now, and he doesn't think he's ever seen that twinkle in Logan's eyes before. It's a bit odd to watch.

"Of course I'm ready!" Logan nods at you with a confident smile. "Wow, you look great, by the way." He adds in a genuine tone, his voice fluxuating a tad.

"Thanks, Logan." You grin back at him with a slight flush to your cheeks. "Now remember what we discussed, alright? Let Randy and Kevin do all the heavy lifting. They might be acting like friends right now. But that wont last long." You remind him, switching over to work mode for a moment.

Logan nods. "I got it." He assures you with a smile. "You aint worried about me? Are you YN?" He teases you jokingly. "You going to hang out back here with JJ?" He adds. "Offer still stands to come hang out with me and my new Prime guy."

"Yeah! I'll see you on the other side, YN!" Logan matches your energy before strutting over to the curtain.

"I'm alright." You shake your head. "And no. I'm not worried about you. You've got this. As always." You assure him. "Go get 'em tiger! You got this!" You pat his shoulder and offer one last confidence-boosting smile.

Your hand lingers on Logans arm for a second longer than needed. JJ takes notice of this and raises his eyebrows slightly.

JJ watches silently as Logan disappears through the curtain. He stands for a moment and watches Logan's entrance on the monitors before he turns to you.

"How long have you and Logan been working together, YN?" JJ asks you curiously.

You turn away from the monitors to answer JJ's question with a small shrug. "Umm, almost a year I think." You answer him.

"Right. You too are so close! It seems like longer." JJ chuckles. "The two of you make a good team." He adds.

"Thanks!" You beam. "I try my best. But to be honest, Logan does most of the work." You joke.

JJ laughs again and nods. The two of you go back to watching the match on the monitors for a while. You move through a whole mixed-bag of emotions during Logan's match. Something that JJ can't help but pick up on.

"You dating anyone right now, YN?" JJ asks you seemingly out of the blue.

"What? Umm, no. Not at the moment." You turn to JJ with a surprised look on your face. "Why? You trying to hit on me, JJ?" You joke with a quirked brow.

JJ rolls his eyes playfully and shakes his head. "I was just curious." He insists before turning back to the monitors.

"Okay." You nod and do the same.

You and JJ watch the rest of Logan's match. Logan ends up picking up the win and you jump for joy! JJ laughs to himself as he realizes something. His best friend has a thing for you. And you might just feel the same way.

Logan comes through the curtain a few minutes later pouring sweat with his title belt slung over his shoulder. "You won!" You rush over to him in excitement. "I knew you could do it, Logan!" You dive in for a hug but Logan puts a hand out and stops you.

"Woah there!" Logan stops you from making contact with him. "Easy now, YN. I am covered in sweat right now." He points to himself. "You come any closer and you're going to be soaked as well. And you look way to nice right now to be messing that up." He chuckles.

"Right." You laugh at yourself and drop your outstretched arms back to your sides. "We at least have to take a picture to commemorate this moment." You retrieve your phone from your pocket.

Logan nods in agreement and leans down to your level so you can snap a picture with him. You take the photo and go to post it on your socials while Logan walks over to JJ to chat for a minute.

The best friends and business partners greet one-another and shake hands.

"Congrats, man." JJ greets his friend with a proud smile. "How you feeling right about now?" He asks Logan.

"I'm great, man!" Logan chuckles. "Riding that high after that win, man!"

JJ nods and glances over at you on your phone a few feet away. He turns back to Logan and decides that he's got to give his friend a little push in the right direction.

"It sure would be the icing on the cake if you finally got around to bagging the girl too, huh?" He asks Logan, nodding toward you at the same time.

"The girl?" Logan replies in confusion. "What? Who? ....YN?" He turns around to you still typing away on your phone.

You look up from your phone at the mention of your name and look over at Logan and JJ. "Yeah?" You put your phone away and turn your attention to the pair. "What's up you two?" You ask them.

"Nothing." Logan replies sharply. "JJ's just giving me a hard time is all." He adds jokingly.

"Alright." You nod. "They want us for the media scrum after the show, by the way." You add, turning back to Logan. "Do you want to go cool off before they need us?" You ask him.

Logan nods and adjusts the title on his shoulder. "Yeah, that'd be good. You want to hold onto this for me?" He takes the title off his shoulder and offers it to you. "I'd rather you hold onto it than let JJ get his grubby hands on it." He jokes.

"Sure." You giggle and take the belt.

JJ and Logan head back to the locker rooms and you hang around backstage and wait for them to come back. While waiting you secure Logans title around your waist while game-planning some PR stuff for later.

Back in the locker room JJ confronts Logan while he's cooling off and getting changed.

"Logan, man. About earlier. I didn't mean anything about the whole YN thing." He tries to clean things up the best he can. "Its just...we've been friends for a while man. And I don't think I've ever seen you look at a girl like you look at her."

Logan bows his head, gaze casted to the floor and an awkward silence falls over the room. JJ sits silently and waits for Logan to answer him.

It takes Logan a couple of minutes, but he does eventually come up with an answer to JJ's accusation. "I don't know man..." Logan rubs the back of his neck. "YN...she's great. Pretty and super smart. And so good at what she does." He smiles to himself. "I don't think I'd even be a champion right now without her."

JJ laughs and pats Logan on the arm. "It sounds to me like you've got it bad buddy." He chuckles. "So why haven't you told her how you feel?"

"I don't know man." Logan sighs. "I guess because I don't know if she feels the same." He admits. "I don't want to lose her. I can't do this job without her at my side." His gaze drops to the floor again.

JJ can't help but laugh again. It's like something out of one of those cheesey romance movies his girlfriend is always dragging him to see. Logan looks up and frowns at him when he starts laughing and JJ has to take a minute to compose himself.

"What's so funny?" Logan huffs at JJ.

"Nothing man." JJ wipes a fake tear from his eye. "Logan, man. She's into you. Trust me on that, mate." He assures Logan.

Logan bites the inside of his cheek and shakes his head, unsure if JJ is messing with him or not. "Are you sure?" He asks JJ. "You really think that I should tell her how I feel?"

"Yes!" JJ hops to his feet. "Come on! Put a shirt on! Then wipe that pathetically nervous look off your face, head outside, and go kiss your manager!" He hypes Logan up.

"Okay okay!" Logan chuckles and does as he's told.

JJ stands back and walks his pep-talk at work. Logan throws his shirt on and strides out of the room in search of you. Logan weaves his way through the backstage area with JJ hot on his heels. He finally spots you hanging out in almost the same spot he left you in earlier. You are leaned against the wall casually and typing on your phone. Logan's title belt is secured neatly around your waist as you wait for him to come back.

"Holy shit." Logan freezes up when he gets a glimpse of you with his title, all his confidence suddenly gone from his body.

JJ comes up behind Logan and sets a hand on his shoulder. "You got this man." He assures Logan before giving him a small shove forward.

Logan stumbles forward and swallows hard. He stumbles over a few words before coming up to you with an awkward, "Hey, YN."

"Hmm?" You look up from your phone. "Oh, there you are! And you look nice and fresh now!" You grin and playfully reach up to ruffle Logan's fluffy hair.

"Yeah." Loga chuckles nervously. "You make one hell of a champion, you know that?" He adds, gesturing down to his title.

You giggle and blush a bit before moving to hand it back to Logan. But he stops you before you can reach back and undo the latch. "YN, there's something that I need to tell you." He explains.

"Okay." You nod, arms dropping back to your sides. "What's up? You look nervous." You recognize the uncharacteristic look of nervousness on Logan's face.

Logan rubs the back of his neck again as he tries to search for the right words to say. "I know that we've been working together for almost a year now. And you've been the best manager that I could has asked for." He smiles at you. "But the truth is...I don't know if I can go on acting like that's all you are to me anymore."

Your heart skips a beat as Logan reaches dow ad grabs your hand tentatively. You've been keeping a hapless crush on your favorite blond media star for so long now. And he here is, confessing that he feels the same way that you do about him.

It's like a dream come true. And you aren't sure what to do.

You lock eyes with Logan, breath caught in your throat. Neither of you are willing to move a muscle, both of you too scared to make a move.

"Will you just kiss the poor sap already, YN!" JJ shouts from across the room and a smile cracks on your face. You take JJ's advice and grab a fistful of Logan's shirt before yanking him down to your level.

You crash your lips to Logan's and feel him smile against your lips. His hands snake around your waist and slide up your back before pulling you into him as close as he can. JJ cheers playfully for the two of you, and a couple of bystanders chime in playfully.

You break away from Logan once your lungs start to burn from lack of oxygen. You let go of his shirt and wrap your arms around his neck breathlessly.

"This doesn't mean that you're done being m manager, right?" Logan asks you playfully.

"Not a chance." You giggle. "I'm your ride or die now, Logan Paul." You grin and lean up for another kiss.

Logan happily kisses you again, gentler this time. "That makes me one lucky son-of-a-bitch." He grins.

#wrestling #wwe fandom #wwe fanfiction #wwe fanfic #wwe fic #wwe x reader #wrestling fandom #wrestling fanfiction #wrestling fanfic #wrestling fic #logan paul #logan paul x reader #syd's wrestling fics

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ludaroace · 9 months

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honestly its really sweet how ramon went from really only having fit to now having a huge family in such a short amount of time .

like yes, the rest of the eggs are his family, and obviously they all care for each other, but the end it was always just him and fit . his other dad dipped a month in, and almost every other egg had at least two people - even ones who only had one or neither parent had a multi-person support system . ramon had fit and to an extent bad and dapper .

and then in the span of like a month he gets two sisters who think the world of him, a brother (a second soon i assume) , pac is his dad in all but the eyes of the government, and whatever the hell his relationship to mike is now (you are like a son to me vs i'll be your uncle soon fight) . he's gone and grown the number of people in his corner, that'll prioritize him without hesitation .

tubbo and ramon thought fit was gonna be gone for a bit ? thats fine, tubbo just adds another 16 cookies to his count without thinking or being asked to and invites him to hang out whenever . sunny and em drag him into watching barbie movies and having sleepovers whenever any of them want to and he was given the honour of getting the room right across theirs . pac fully respects what he has to say and at no point has shot him down even if what he's saying is childish and asks to see his stuff unprompted . mike immediately drags him away to start discussing plans for the future and being his biggest hypeman . ik ramon's admin is busy often, but i would not be surprised if we saw ramon waking up/staying up a bit later to hang out with pac and mike every once in a while like he sometimes does with tubbo and bad .

sometimes its easy to forget that ramon is just a kid because he's extremely mature for his age, but seeing him all jumpy today just made me happy . the kid deserves this .

#qsmp ramon #qsmp #cant believe im getting emotional over an egg in a minecraft roleplay #again

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zentriii · 2 months

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atsumu groans when light fills up his room. his head's submerged in the clouds and all he knows is that he's going to have to call out of practise today. fuck.

the sheets beside him are barely warm so he forces his eyes open and rubs the crust out with the back of his hand. what kiyoomi won't see can't hurt him. his phone reads 6:23. at least he's awake early enough that kiyoomi hasn't left yet.

the process of brushing his teeth and throwing a pair of clean, non-sweaty pants on feel like they take up five years. there's a fit of nausea trying to make itself known in his stomach but he wants to see kiyoomi off.

"how're you feeling?" kiyoomi asks, filling a plate up with eggs.

"like i wanna be run over by a car." atsumu finds that to be more of an honest statement than he thought it was. he can barely stand up but the unsteadiness of walking over is daunting.

"do you think you can eat some eggs?" there's a small gesture towards the plate in his hands but fuck – the thought alone of how greasy the butter is, the strong flavours of salt and pepper – he could puke.

"i dunno if i could keep 'em down t'be honest," he mumbles, shame churning in his gut. it's not the first time kiyoomi's seen him sick – but it's the first time since they started living together. there's nowhere to hide in their apartment.

"try?" and it's that classic Omi-Pout™ that has him folding. a little because it's cute. a little because he still feels like he's imposing sometimes. a little because he refuses to live with regrets – if all there is, is here and now, atsumu knows he'll be upset if kiyoomi becomes upset too.

there isn't much else for him to do but shrug helplessly and unstick his feet from the ground. walking isn't too bad after the first step – or with company.

the toaster pops off and kiyoomi quickly adds those to his plate before atsumu can even finish washing his hands – as if he'd refuse anything more once he sat down. kiyoomi's not wrong, but still! it's the principle of the matter – wait is atsumu internally trying to convince himself that kiyoomi should consider him a simp? that that's how he wants to be seen?

does he? he does not. (does he?)

atsumu is very confused on which side he's on right now and comes to the conclusion that his head hurts so he will not be thinking further on this matter. he sits down.

kiyoomi's long since scurried off to grab his gym bag and change out of his pjs but despite atsumu's 23 years of life – he misses him. his company's a quiet but solid one and the warmth that atsumu always feels from beside him leaves in exchange for a cold chill. the egg starts tasting more bland.

surprisingly enough – flavour-wise it isn't all that rich to begin with. kiyoomi's the type to overdo quite literally everything when it comes to food, and even though atsumu was expecting something more mellowed out in terms of taste, it's super easy on his stomach.

he wants to ask but kiyoomi beats him to it, walking out of their room and ready for the day. "i used less salt and pepper and cooked it on oil instead of butter. are you alright to finish it?"

atsumu's stomach turns into a mess for a whole new reason and there's tears pricking at his eyes that he ignores. "yeah," he croaks, voice far too fragile to say any more.

"i called coach already, i left some medicine on your nightstand and – rest well okay?" kiyoomi's brows furl and it rushes into atsumu all at once how far kiyoomi's going for him.

kiyoomi who hates being sick, hates the idea of even getting sick. kiyoomi who's been playing nurse since atsumu woke them both up in the middle of the night with a sudden fever, not once complaining about being in close contact with him.

"omi-kun–" atsumu's voice warbles. he's gonna regret this later but he's. he's not even sure what he wants to say but he feels steady enough on his feet thanks to the food kiyoomi carefully made.

"i'll be back soon yeah?" and it's the way kiyoomi doesn't make a step to the door that brings words flooding out of atsumu.

"i'll be waitin' at home for ya." there's a silent moment where he wonders if he chose wrong, if kiyoomi wasn't really ready to refer to his apartment as theirs. it's only been two months since he–

"yeah, love you." atsumu hates how he can't smother kiyoomi's stupid pretty little face in kisses so instead he engraves the curve of kiyoomi's pleased and wobbly smile into his mind.

atsumu knows his face is just as sappy. he can't quite find it in himself to care.

"love you too."

#didn't edit this in the slightest but uh. have some skts sick fic i guess??#not sure where that came from since i've been on a snoskm grind but i missed them. and sat down like 2hrs ago #anyhow imagine atsumu being miserable but also warmed by the notion of calling omi's apartment home. bc it rly is starting to feel like hom #like he's missing omi he's missing vball but ehehee idk i just think mayb they moved in a little early and so it's only now really hitting.#does that make sense? bc personally i started calling my uni dorm room home within a week of moving. atsumu and i are Not the same.#okay tags !#haikyuu #haikyuu fic #maz writes #sakusa kiyoomi #miya atsumu #sakuatsu #my fic

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kimpossibly · 2 years

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THE CHAIN -> e. roundtree PART ONE: drummers' curse

PAIRING: eddie roundtree x fem!reader WARNINGS: mentions of minor injuries (NOTE: some warnings for this story include MAJOR spoilers for this series down the line, so I'll put those beneath the cut. If you don't want to get the story spoiled, then just ignore it ― but I did want to provide the chance for you to get an idea of how the story will go later down the line if you have any sensitive topics you'd like to avoid. please prioritize your mental wellbeing!)

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Apologies in advance for making Y/n the drummer and putting Warren on rhythmic guitar. I just loooooooove female drummers. Also can you tell that I love Karen and Camila? Because I love them with alllllll my heart and soul. Another sorry in advance because this one may break your heart a little ― it sure broke mine. NOTES ON THE WORK: I used the timeline from the book, mostly because I couldn't keep track of it in the show haha. I read the book twice before watching what episodes of the show were out, so the lines may blur between the two. For your convenience (and mine, tbh), I'll put the year all the characters were born underneath this note so you can reference it when you need to. I just couldn't keep track honestly. I think in the show they start the band when Graham is fourteen, but in the book he's around 18 when they add Warren on, so it's kind of confusing?? I decided to stick with the book because it was a more physical timeline. Anyways, enough talking, here's your guide! ― YEARS BORN (in order of age) Billy Dunne -> 1947 Camila Dunne -> 1949 Graham Dunne -> 1949 Warren Rhodes -> 1949 Eddie Roundtree -> 1949 Daisy Jones -> 1951 Y/n L/n -> 1951

WARNINGS (SPOILERS INCLUDED): reader has a terminal illness. Discussions about death and loss, depictions of grief, hospitals

It's no secret that the renowned 1970s band Daisy Jones & The Six went through its fair share of ups and downs. Until their inexplicable split on July 12, 1979, they were undeniably one of the biggest bands in the world. While a more detailed account of the band's history will be recounted in a more thorough transcript, this advanced edition will focus specifically on two of the band members: Eddie Roundtree and Y/n L/n. More specifically, it will focus on their individual and combined roles they played in the band's eventual downfall.

THE RISE OF THE SIX (1965 - 1972)

GRAHAM: Y/n grew up next door to us. She was a little younger, two years or so, so we never really gave her a second look. Until the day she wandered into our garage during band practice out of nowhere. She practically ripped the drum sticks out of Chuck's hand and just started...wailing on 'em. I mean, she could make your head spin. Here was this thirteen, fourteen year old girl next door, this kid, and she was the best fuckin' drummer we'd seen. I mean, in the neighborhood. She wasn't Mitch Mitchell, but she was the closest thing we had. And she was too good to be shoved in the back with a tambourine. But we couldn't just take Chuck's spot away and hand it over to the new girl.

CHUCK: I knew right then and there that they wanted to give my spot to the new girl. There was no doubt in my mind. And, you know what? I got it. This chick was good. Way too good. Did I feel threatened by her? Hell yeah, I did. And at the time I probably wanted to tell her to screw off, but now...now I get it.

EDDIE: She was good. Amazing, actually. Graham and I looked at each other and knew that she was something we'd be stupid to pass up on.

BILLY: When Chuck told us he wanted out, we were pissed, of course. We were heading off to open for Winters that week. It felt like things were going to look up, just like I always knew they would, and he was ditching. I know now that that wasn't really what it was ― he'd gotten into college, fan-fucking-tastic. It was a good opportunity for him, a sure thing. But right then it felt like a betrayal.

WARREN: So he ditched, and Billy just turned right to Eddie and said, "Go tell Y/n she's in." And he was just...terrified.

EDDIE: I said, "why me?" You know? It wasn't my band, it was Billy's. And here he was, ordering me to tell some new girl she was in. I was fifteen and could barely ask a waitress for ketchup. At the time, that was probably the last thing I wanted to do.

GRAHAM: He asked why it had to be him, and I told him the truth: he was the least intimidating. Billy, you know him. He had a tendency to get too focused on the task at hand and could get a little...harsh. And Warren? He had one of the biggest personalities you could find. He'd scare her off before we had a chance to offer her the spot...[Pauses] I probably could've done it, in all honesty. I just didn't want to screw it up. Eddie was better with words than I was, and we needed her in our band. Badly.

EDDIE: And I remember thinking, "Here goes fucking nothing."

The doorbell ringing was what got her attention. No one ever used the doorbell. It was always a knock ― that, or someone just walked in. The L/n's front door was hardly ever locked back then. Y/n's mom was a nurse, formerly a school nurse. She didn't want to risk the chance that some kid took a spill and had to limp home on an injured leg. So all the neighborhood knew, if you got hurt playing outside, you could march on over to Miss L/n's place to get yourself fixed up.

Y/n had her own share of walk-ins, too. By the time she was ten, she had seen her mom help out enough kids that she was practically a nurse herself. She could disinfect and bandage and stitch up any old case that walked through her front door. And if someone who was too busted up for first aid? She knew where the keys to the family Winnebago was and how to drive herself and them to the local hospital. She was only fourteen and didn't have a license, but it didn't matter. She was a safer driver than most everyone else on the road.

So when someone rang the doorbell, she assumed that it was someone too injured to knock. She grabbed the car keys and made sure her suture kit was within reach.

When she opened the door, she didn't see the blood and broken bones she was expecting. Instead, Eddie Roundtree stood on her front porch, hands shoved anxiously in his pockets. He looked all right, but that didn't stop her from asking: "You're not hurt, are you?"

"Um. No," Eddie said quickly, taking his hands out of his pockets.

"Okay," she said slowly, eyes narrowing. "Do you want to come in?"

"Yeah, sure."

Y/n turned and walked further into the house, prompting him to close the door and follow her. She led him to the kitchen. "Lemonade? I made it this morning," she offered, already opening the fridge.

EDDIE: That jug of lemonade was bigger than she was. [Laughs] I could barely watch her get it down. I was afraid she'd drop it on her foot. But she just took her time getting it from the fridge to the table. I found out later that her mom bought a pound of lemons a week because Y/n wanted something to offer every kid that came through their front door. [Pauses]. She was just like that.

He gave a nod. Y/n stood on her toes to grab two glasses from the cabinet. She poured one glass, hands shaking from the weight of the jug, and Eddie realized that this awkward silence was probably the best time to transition into his real reason for visiting.

"Chuck left the band."

"Oh," she said simply. "Sorry."

"Don't be."

She paused, looking confused. And Eddie, who's will to live was slowly draining from this conversation alone, raced to finish what he had (awkwardly) started.

"I just mean that...you're in. The band. If you want to be our drummer, you're in."

Y/n paused mid-pour, setting the pitcher down on the counter carefully. She turned around until her back pressed into the kitchen counter, arms crossed over her chest. "And you thought I'd jump at the chance to join?"

"No. No," Eddie said quickly. "We just wanted to offer you the spot if you still wanted it."

"Did I say that I wanted it?"

"No, but―"

"Okay, just making sure," she handed him a glass and hopped up onto the counter, crossing her legs underneath her. "So you need a drummer?"

"Yes. Badly."

She took a sip from her glass and paused, as if weighing her options in her mind. She swallowed. "Are there any other girls in the band yet?"

EDDIE: Yet. Like she knew it was going to happen. It was just a matter of time.

"No, not yet." he replied.

"Then be honest with me: are you guys sleazeballs?"

EDDIE: Sleazeballs. She didn't sugarcoat things. She wanted to know if we were creeps or if we'd let her play drums in peace. I get that, one hundred percent. but back then, it felt like she was trying to accuse us of something.

"No," he said quickly, "Well...Warren can be a little much, but he means well."

She took another slow sip, once again weighing her options in her mind. "When's your next gig?"

"We play pretty much every night, wherever we can find. It might take us a bit to teach you the songs, but―"

"I can learn them," she said confidently. "How soon do you need someone?"

"Soon as possible."

EDDIE: By then, I was terrified she'd say no. All these questions and never once did she seem really interested in joining. I was already trying to figure out which of us would be the least shit at the drums.

"Okay. I'm in."

EDDIE: And that was it. She said yes. I didn't appreciate how much she'd saved our asses right then, but I was relieved. That was for sure.

GRAHAM: Eddie came back, told us she said yes. She couldn't join practice until her mom got home ― she didn't want the house to be empty if some injured kid wandered by ― so we had about an hour and a half to teach her every song.

BILLY: She picked 'em up like [snaps] that. Never doubted it for a single second, either. Once she knew it, she knew it.

EDDIE: She showed up to the first gig in overalls and sneakers. She let Camila put a little makeup on her, too, but we could all tell she hated it.

CAMILA: She was sweet. And, surprisingly, a little shy. I could tell she was a little scared of the boys. That's why she was a little cold to them at first. But she was just the coolest kid. I mean, fourteen years old and joining a rock band? She was a little rockstar, right off the bat. She asked me to put some makeup on her before her first gig with the band. When I gave her a mirror after and asked her what she thought, she said, "I like it, but it makes me feel like a doll. Not a drummer." She liked the glitter the most, though. It became her trademark. She put it on her cheeks, in her hair, everywhere that would catch the light. She'd come off stage and you'd see a little pile of sparkles behind the drum set.

EDDIE: Right off the bat, first gig. It was enough to freak anyone out. She joined the band six hours ago, learned the songs three hours ago, and now she was playing in a club to a couple dozen people. It seems so small now, but back then? It was like starting at Wembley.

Y/n shook out her hands for the eighth time. It wasn't about loosening up for the gig anymore, she just needed something to do that didn't involve throwing a punch or screaming at the top of her lungs. She looked up at Billy, standing at the front of the group, cool and calm as ever, and she had the distinct urge to kick him in the shin. Why did he get to be so calm when she was right behind him, on the verge of throwing up?

She turned to anxiously twisting a single drum stick between her fingers, around and around, faster and faster. Eventually it became so mindless that she barely noticed as the stick slipped from her fingers, clattering to the floor. She bent to retrieve it quickly, hoping no one had noticed.

But, of course, someone did.

"Hey," Eddie said, looking back at her.

"Warren knocked it out of my hands." she said quickly.

Eddie glanced over at Warren, who was a solid two feet ahead of her, physically unable to have knocked a drum stick out of her hands. Y/n knew from that glance that he could see right through her lie. Now she really wasn't in the mood to talk.

EDDIE: She was terrified. And she was lying her ass off about it. I didn't want to run the risk that she choked up in the middle of the show and screwed up our set. So I figured I'd just, talk. And if she wanted me to screw off, she'd tell me. She had a way of saying exactly what she wanted.

"You've heard of the Drummer's Curse, right?" he asked.

She frowned in a way that told him no, she did not.

"First, there's the obvious stuff: drummers have to lug around the most shit out of anyone in the band. Drums sets are heavy and expensive, so there's that. But the worst part is that they're easy to overlook, you know? They're at the back of the stage behind all this shit, everyone stands in front of 'em. Drummers can fade into the background real easy. The best drummers can outshine anyone else onstage. You'll do that one day, but if you're freaked out now, just let yourself fade a little. You'll play better than anyone up there and the crowd'll know it, but you can let them focus on someone else if you want. You get what I'm saying?"

EDDIE: For a second, I thought she was going to punch me.

But then she nodded, wiped off some of the pink lipstick Camila had put on her with the back of her hand, and pushed her bangs to the side. "Drummers' Curse, huh?"

"Some people believe in it, some don't."

"And you?" she asked, turning to him. "Do you believe in that kind of stuff?"

Eddie paused. Shrugged. "Sure. Seems true enough to me."

Y/n nodded. "I don't. It sounds like bullshit to me."

Eddie frowned. She looked up at him. "I'm not going to let myself fade because I'm scared. I signed up for this, you know. The least I can do is own my place. If I outshine you, it's just because I'm that good," she said matter-of-factly. "I will need help carrying the stuff, though."

EDDIE: I didn't know what to say. I mean, [laughs] what the hell do you say to that?

He felt like he'd had the rug pulled out from under him. And then, he surprised himself: he laughed.

And Y/n surprised herself then, too ― she smiled.

EDDIE: That was just...[Shakes head. Smiles.] I don't know.

"I think we can manage that." he said with a smile.

"Ladies and gentlemen...The Dunne Brothers!"

WARREN: If I were still the guy I was back then, I would completely undersell her to you right now. I'd tell you she was an average drummer who was more in it for the thrill than the craft. But that wasn't it at all. She got up there and she just...shined.

GRAHAM: We all knew she'd be scared before the first gig. In fact, she looked about ready to throw up when they announced us on stage. But the second she hit those lights, it was like she was a different person. She waved and smiled like she'd done it a hundred times. The only other person I'd seen do that ― I mean really become another person on stage ― is Billy.

BILLY: That first show with Y/n was a little bit of a trainwreck. We were at least a half beat behind the entire show. And I'm not saying I blame her, but she was new and shiny. We got through it just fine, but I think we all felt it wasn't our best show.

WARREN: That show was bitchin'.

GRAHAM: It was a great show.

WARREN: Back in those days, we'd get off stage and start cheering for ourselves like we'd just won the goddamn lottery. Somewhere along the way, that stopped. We'd just pat each other on the back, say 'good job,' and that was that. But when Y/n got backstage? She was screaming and yelling like it was the best night of her life. And all of us joined in without a second thought ― well, maybe all of us except Billy. He was kind of a hard ass, even then. None of us had ever heard this girl talk louder than a glorified whisper, and then she came out of nowhere with this full-body scream. And who did she run to? Well, I think you can guess.

CAMILA: She just about jumped into Eddie's arms.

Adrenaline is a funny thing. For one, the effect is had on different people can be vastly different depending on who it was. Some people mellowed out, some people amped up. Y/n fell into the second category.

The second she got off the stage, a giddy laugh ripped from her chest, turning more into a scream of triumph halfway through. She was buzzing. Literally. Her hands felt numb ― or, more accurately, they felt like they felt more. Everything she touched was sharp and blinding.

The next person to join in on the screaming and jumping around was Warren. Then Graham. Then Eddie. And then, reluctantly, Billy. Eddie was the last to come off stage, slinging his guitar off his shoulders, and Y/n, without thinking much about it, ran straight to him, leaping directly into his unsuspecting arms.

The others were too hyped up on their own adrenaline rushes to notice that anything out of the ordinary had happened. She wrapped her legs around his waist hanging onto him like a koala. And Eddie, who couldn't deny adrenaline, held onto her back without a second thought.

After a moment, she leaned back, arms still wrapped around his neck, faces inches apart. "Drummers' curse, huh?"

EDDIE: She didn't fade. She couldn't, not even if she tried.

Eddie just smiled and shook his head. "Sounds like bullshit to me."

#daisy jones and the six #daisy jones & the six #daisy jones and the six fanfiction #daisy jones & the six fanfiction #eddie loving #eddie roundtree #eddie roundtree x reader

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jtstoryweaver · 1 year

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Child or Double, Part 2

(Part 1 of this story is here.)

You pull the old children's clothes out of your dryer and hold them up critically. They'll be a bit big for the girl, but they'll do well enough for now.

"Little sister, are you around?" you ask the empty hallway.

There's a shuffle behind you, and you turn to see two young girls behind you, hand in hand. The one on the left is warier, while the one on the right is flickering gently—here one second, faded the next. You offer the clothes to the child on the left.

"Could you please take these to your sister? If she wants to come out of her room, I'll be making breakfast in a minute. If not, you can take her breakfast up to her."

Little eyes squint at you, and the girl on the left takes the clothes silently. The pair vanish, clothes and all.

As promised, you head downstairs and start clattering around with plates and pans. Pancakes, you think; even if the terrified child in Alan's old bedroom doesn't want any, the rest of your children will happily clean them up. They don't need to eat, but some of them enjoy it anyway.

There's a shuffling noise on the landing above, and light footsteps pad hesitantly down the stairs. You make sure to pretend you haven't noticed, moving to the far side of the kitchen before looking towards the door.

Two wide brown eyes peek back at you from around the door frame, and you smile. "Hello," you offer.

"'lo," she whispers.

"What would you like to eat?"

Her gaze darts towards the heaped platter of fresh pancakes. "You made pancakes."

You nod, setting the plate on the kitchen table and taking the milk out of the fridge. "I did, but you don't have to eat them if you don't want to. My kids are very happy about finishing off any leftovers."

Tiny white teeth dent her lower lip. "Cereal?"

"You can absolutely have cereal," you agree, opening the cupboard so that she can see the selection. "What kind?"

She points at the rice pops, and you pour them into a bowl and add milk.

A little more of her is visible now, and her bright red top tells you that she's wearing the clean clothes you sent. There's a pang in your heart, pain mixed with pleasure at seeing Alan's clothes on another child. "Are you comfortable eating at the table, or would you prefer to take them back to your room?"

Her eyes widen even more. "What if I get milk on the carpet?"

You smile, putting her cereal on the table and then backing off. "I promise you, that carpet's been through worse than a little spilled milk. I can always scrub it later."

Her lips press together in determination and she marches out into the kitchen. You half expect her to grab the bowl and spoon and scurry back to her room, but she pulls herself up onto the chair and digs in.

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes. So brave, this little one.

A moment later, part of the reason for her courage walks through the kitchen door. It's the girl's Doubler, still hand in hand with the child who used to look like Alan. "Is there room for us?" the girl's Doubler asks.

"Always, sweetheart," you tell her. The girl scrambles up next to her sister, the still-flickering child perforce taking the next seat along. You're almost certain that the additional child is Duncan, the Doubler who haunts your attic.

You're proved right a moment later when Duncan looks up at you. "M-mom? Is it okay if I look like this?"

"Of course it's okay," you reassure the most nervous of your children. "You can look like whatever you want. Did you want a new name?"

"N-no." Wonder of wonders, Duncan smiles tremulously at you. "I like being Duncan. I just like being a girl too."

"I'm proud of you, my daughter," you assure her.

Not being particularly demonstrative, Duncan looks away shyly. But the little smile is still on her lips, and she stops phasing in and out of reality.

The girl, who's about halfway through her cereal, pauses to stare at you. "What's your name?" she asks.

"Elaine," you say, leaving it open as to whether the girl tells you her name in return.

She nods. "I'm Diana."

From across the kitchen, you nod in acknowledgement. "I'm pleased to meet you, Diana."

Duncan nudges the Doubler sister. "Do you have a name?"

"No," she says, her lips turning down in a pout.

"Sara!" Diana declares. "I always wanted a sister called Sara."

The newly named Sara lights up. "I like it!"

Milk splashes on the table when Diana drops her spoon to hug her newly named sister, but you're not worried. Like the carpet in Diana's room, the table's seen much worse than a little spilled milk.

(Okay, breakfast went on longer than I expected and I have more story to tell, so keep an eye out for Part 3!)

#my writing #child or double #trans child #urban fantasy #original fiction

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kimetsu-no-yaiba-writings · 1 year

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I’m but a simple human with nothing but gay thoughts! If possible I’m interested in what you think Mitsuri and Shinobu (separately) would be like with fem reader that has nipple piercings?

-Simple human!

Honestly women? Beautiful! Thank you for sending in your gay thoughts (＠＾▽＾＠) I'm always open for having more of 'em!

Alas I'm also queer - I'll leave my sexuality a mystery - so send me more queer/gay thoughts and requests whenever!

But anyway!

Thank you Simple human Anon for sending this in, I hope you don't mind me writing this in a bullet-point format for the headcanons + thoughts i have on this (ˊᗜˋﾉﾉ

I've also given you your own tag just incase you ever want to request again ☆ both as sh-anon and simple human anon.

Also I'll add abit more later when more stuff comes to mind (￣∀￣) which i hope you don't mind to much

Mitsuri Kanroji & Shinobu Kocho with a FEM! S/O with Nipple piercings - Headcanons:

I think that generically no matter what your appearance is - tall or short, chubby or thin, tattoos or not etc. - she'll absolutely adore you

In her eyes your perfect, even when you point out any flaws that you might have - or think you have - your still perfect in her eyes

Mitsuri loves all of you

That being said, Mitsuri is not prepared for your piercings

She goes beetroot red whenever you flash her your piercings, her voice catches in her throat and she starts stuttering out praises and noises of appreciation

She does tear up slightly cause she's kinda embarrassed how much you affect her - especially at the heat that curls in her tummy when she gets to feel and see your breasts + piercings

She's in awe of how beautiful you are and does get abit carried away with her groping

Doesn't matter what type of nipple jewelry you wear, she always see's beauty in it and it doesn't even matter if its as simple as a normal straight or curved barbell

Although she does like intricate, delicate or jeweled jewelry

Always makes sure that there's clothing that's airy for your piercings as she worries about you accidentally catching them on heavy or scratchy cloth

Gets matching piercings

You do have to help her the first couple of weeks in looking after them, especially with making sure the piercings don't heal to the metal of the nipple-ring

Absolutely loves them

Shinobu just gives me the vibes of someone who likes nipple piercings?? If that makes sense?

Like she finds them pretty and artistic

The piercings accentuate your breasts nicely and honestly her eyes are always drawn to them whenever your changing

She's a simple gal who's in love with you so obviously her eyes go to you - breathe catching in her chest as she blushes

Absolutely goes ape when you surprise her with beautifully intricate nipple shields that are in the shape of butterflies

Oh! Or pretty dangly ones

Cause she's a woman of medicine - and poisons which she'd never use on you of course - she helps look after your piercings (with your consent) and jewelry

Shinobu makes soft soaps so it doesn't irritate your skin when you have to wash your piercings + jewelry

And makes sure that the softest towels are ready for you to pat dry

While she loves your piercings shinobu's not confident enough to get nipple piercings herself, so she'll remain admiring you with yours

Will buy you pretty nipple rings that she thinks will suit you especially ones that only she's gonna be able to see

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boygiwrites · 2 months

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Harley D. Dixon 37

Harley D. Dixon's Pinterest Board!

Harley D. Dixon's Playlist!

📖Chapter List.

Author's Note.

— TW: OFF-SCREEN TORTURE. NON-CONSENSUAL KISS INVOLVING CHILD.

Hey, everyone :) Please be mindful that this chapter is pretty intense. If what's listed in the TWs isn't something you're comfortable reading, kindly skip this chapter and read the end notes for a summary.

A few hours later, once the sun begins to sink below the windowsill and turn the room orange, the front door slams shut.

I can't see him from where I'm curled up in the cramped space between the sofa and the wall, crying and sniffling into my hands, but I can tell it's Merle just by the weight of his footsteps and the sound of him dumping his keys on the kitchen counter. He calls out for me — "Harley? Why's the door unlocked?" — but I keep my mouth shut, 'cause I know he's gonna find me, anyway.

His boots appear in my line of sight, stopping before he sighs to himself. "Aw, shit."

As he crouches down in front of me, I rub the wetness from my eyes and bravely meet his gaze. He always hates it when I cry, but he especially hates it when I don't look him in the eye. It's one of the many, random things he finds disrespectful.

"What's wrong?" He asks, lookin' more confused than anything. "C'mon, cry-baby. What happened?"

"There was a man in here," I whisper, watching his expression turn to stone.

"Like Hell there was."

"He had keys," I continue frantically. "I wasn't gonna let him in, I swear. He said his name was Philip and—"

"Of course it was fuckin' Philip."

"—And he said he was gonna cut Daddy's th-throat open if I didn't tell him where our group is," I exclaim.

"And did ya?"

"I ain't told him shit, but he said he'd be back!"

While I was sitting here, waiting for Merle to return, I thought about climbing out the window or leaving through the front door to go and help Dad and Glenn, but I'll admit it. I got scared, and this hiding spot seemed a lot more appealing than out there.

He pins me with a meaningful look. "Ya say he only talked to ya?"

"Uh-huh," I sniffle, nodding.

"He ain't done nothin' else?"

I shake my head, tears quickly gathering in my eyes again. "He said he'd cut his throat open, Merle! I'm worried about 'em!"

As soon as the words come outta my mouth, I catch him trying not to roll his eyes. "Girl, I left you with a box of snacks and all the movies a kid could ever want, and now you're all upset? Come on, now. You ain't already know what was gonna happen?"

I knew we weren't gonna be popular here, but I ain't thought anybody would get they throat cut!

Glaring at him, I ask, "What, and you did?"

"Jesus." He looks down at his boots, chewing on his cheek before he meets my gaze again. "Yeah, I knew, okay?"

"And you let—?"

"I told you. My hands are tied," He explains, lowering his voice. "I ain't the golden child that makes all the decisions here. But like I said, I went to see yer Dad. And for yer information, yer Uncle Merle's the only reason he's got food and water right now."

Oh. Great. Dad's gonna get murdered in a cellar, but at least he's got food and water.

He adds, "I ain't yer enemy, here, alright?"

"He don't need food and water," I say, offended he thinks that's what any of us want. "We need to go home!"

"Wanna tell me where that is, then? End all'a this?"

That shuts me up.

Conflicted, I stare him down, knowing I won't say it. Despite everything, I can't. I know it'd be the wrong thing to do.

"Okay." He grins sarcastically. "So, we're gonna go with my plan, then. Good to know."

"What is your plan?"

"To not let ya Daddy get killed. So, get up," He reaches out for me, grabbing my arm and forcing me to my feet. "He's refusin' to say anythin' until we prove you're alright, so now we gotta take a lil' field trip back down to the blocks together. Let's go."

I gasp as he drags me over to the front door. "I get to see Dad?"

"He's holdin' a guard at gunpoint as we speak, so, yeah. They're takin' him serious."

As he grabs his keys, I ask, "Was you there when he did that?"

"Nah. I just talked to him a lil' bit a few hours ago. Was out by the gates when they told me to come get ya."

"Wait."

I suddenly come to a stop, diggin' my heels into the carpet so he can't drag me any further.

He turns to look at me. "What?"

Feeling proud of myself, I decide, "I'm only lettin' ya take me to see Dad if you promise to let Glenn see a doctor."

If Dad's allowed to threaten people to get what he wants, so do I.

"Like I can't just throw ya over my shoulder, anyway," He jokes. "Ya weigh about as much as a tin of beans."

"I'll kick and scream the whole way," I warn him, and I'm dead serious.

Merle considers me for a moment, before he sighs in defeat and pulls the door open. "Fine."

"Yes!"

"Let's go."

The five-minute walk from Merle's apartment to the abandoned building leaves me with just enough time for my anxiety to settle back into my bones, though I guess it never really left, always a firm sediment permanently fixed to the bottom of my stomach.

My palms begin to sweat as we approach the cellar doors, feeling like I'm about to jump off a tall building.

When Merle knocks on them, they're opened from the other side by an angry-lookin' man who gestures for us to enter.

Oh, man, I think to myself as we descend the concrete steps, our movements echoing loudly off the walls, It's cold down here. The light slips away as the doors close behind us, reminding me of the hundreds of tunnels in the depths of the prison, where even the sun and the fresh air can't reach. I feel a chill creep up my skin as I huddle closer behind Merle, afraid of the guards' lingering gazes.

"Bring her in here," Dad's distant voice echoes. "Bring her in here right now, or this bastard loses his brains!"

I think of Merle's apartment as we make our way down the long corridor.

It's strange to think that he lives just around the corner from this nightmare, as if the flower beds let him forget about it.

"They're comin'!" A guard shouts back at Dad. "Don't shoot!"

With each door we pass, I wonder, Is that the one?

Until we come to a stop at the very last door, and Merle gives a meaningful look to the guard standing outside it. This is it.

"So, you're that psycho's daughter," The stranger muses to himself in distaste, before he grabs the doorknob and pushes it open.

The very first thing I see is my Dad standing in the middle of the room, holding a man to his chest with a gun to his head. His whole body tenses, posturing himself for a fight, fingers clenching around the grip, before he realizes that it's just me.

"Harley," He exhales with his whole chest and throws the gun to the ground, running up to me.

I wrap my arms around him as the guard makes a noise of relief, snatching up his gun and scrambling outta the room.

The door slams shut behind him.

"Harley," He says again, pulling back and cupping my face in his dirty hands. "Fuck. Them bastards told me they—..."

"I'm alright," I assure him with a shake of my head, but I ain't as relieved as he is, not even enough to return the small smile on his lips, the tender, beaten expression on his face. He's— He looks worse than he ever has. His nose is bent the wrong way like it belongs to a different person, leaking fresh blood onto the already dried, tacky blood caked onto his upper lip. It tracks lines back up his pinkened cheeks, looking like reverse tears, pooling into his hairline as if they had him hanging upside down. "A-are you okay?"

Remembering what the scary man said, I check his neck. There's no slice or mark from a blade, but there are colorful bruises blooming in a line over his Adam's apple that look a bit like the milky way galaxy. It's awful. I think he must've been strangled.

"Don't worry about me," He croaks, touching his fingers to the browned, purple skin. "It's nothin'."

"Daddy, I don't like this anymore," I desperately confess. "At first, I thought it was gonna be okay because Merle was with us, and he said they was only gonna question ya, but now they're sayin' they gonna kill ya, and we can't go hom—"

"Shh," He croons. "Shhhh, no, no, no."

Gently, he leads me over to the blanket crumpled up against the wall, sitting down on it and setting me in his lap.

"Shh. No more of that," He whispers, leaning his chin on the top of my head, too weak to talk any louder. "You been at Merle's?"

Yeah. Let's talk about something else.

Staring at a stain on the floor, I answer, "We talked and he left for a while, so I watched a movie."

His chest rumbles beneath me as he chuckles, his breath warm on my scalp, before I feel him shudder, sniffle.

Oh. I realize he's crying quietly to himself.

"Movie, huh?" He eventually murmurs, his voice thin and shaky. "That's real good. That's good, baby. Which one?"

Whatever they told Dad they was doing to me, it must've been bad. It might've even been that they was cuttin' my throat open, because if I heard that Dad was had only been watching movies this whole time, I'd be just as relieved. But it ain't true.

Ignoring the bruises on his arm, I say, "Somethin' with a lotta gun fights."

"It weren't that corny one with the robot-soldiers he always liked, was it?"

"I think it was."

"Well, that's worse'un anythin' they been puttin' me through," He jokes, sniffing wetly. His breath hitches before he groans and coughs something thick and red onto the floor. I feel his muscles loosen as he sighs heavily. "Used to hate it when he put that shit on."

A fat, white tooth sits in the middle of the puddle of blood like a pearl.

"He got cartoons, too," I add, hoping he finds it a little bit funny. "Got a whole bunch of 'em."

"Remind me to bring that up later, huh?"

"Shit!"

I flinch.

At the sound of Glenn's muffled cry coming from the other side of the wall, I straighten, calling out, "Glenn?"

"Harley?" He shouts back, panicked. "Oh, my G— You animals! Let her go!"

"She's with me," Dad cuts him off sternly. "She's alright."

"Oh. Oh, thank God. Are you guys safe?"

"There's nobody else in here wit'us, if that's what'chu mean."

I hear a door slam shut.

"What's that?" Dad asks him. "You alone, too?"

"It was some guy," He groans, and I imagine him sitting with his back against Dad's, with only the wall to separate us from each other and it makes me feel a little better. "He wrapped gauze around my thigh and gave me some pills. Hope it wasn't poison."

"I threatened Merle on the way here, Glenn," I proudly tell him. "He promised me he'd let you see a doctor."

"He didn't look like any doctor I've ever seen," He jokes. "But thank you, Harley. That was kind."

"Smart," Dad agrees fondly. "Guess I'm sorry I ain't thought of it."

"It's alright, man," Glenn says. "If it was me who had that guard at gunpoint, I would've asked to see Harley, too."

I ask, "It still hurt?"

"Uh. No. No, don't worry." It's easy to tell he's lying. "I feel better already."

"We gotta get the fuck outta here," Dad grumbles lowly because he can tell, too, but nobody says anything else after that.

It's a little difficult with all the gray, concrete walls and the single lightbulb hanging down from the ceiling by a thin, red wire, but I imagine I'm in the forest. Any forest. It's where I'd be all the time if I could. I'm in the forest and I can see the sky, clear and blue above me, reminding me that I have nothing to worry about because maybe I'm a leaf on a bush or a thorny flower, blowing softly in the breeze.

I can't picture the smaller details, but that's alright. All that matters is that I can see the sky.

The forest blows away like sand in the wind when the door opens.

Lifting my head from my Dad's shoulder, I blink away the grogginess that sticks behind my eyes, adjusting to the dim light of the room. I must've fallen asleep, dreaming about clouds. I think for a moment that I'm in my old bedroom again, curled up in Dad's lap after he drifted off while reading me a bed time story, but I'm quickly reminded of where I am when Philip's voice fills the room.

"I almost thought you were a total monster," He says as I turn to look at him. "But you're just a Dad."

He slowly stalks into the room, smiling nicely as a guard follows him in and closes the door.

"There's always two sides to a person." He comes to a stop just a few feet from us. "She looks just like you. I didn't notice until now."

Dad's fingers curl tighter around me, glaring up at the man through his brows, saying nothing.

"Hm?" Philip chirps with a little shrug. "What's the matter, Daryl? Not in the mood to spit on my face again?"

"I will be," He rasps lowly, "Once y'all take Harley back to my brother's."

"Back to your brother's? I think I remember you threatening to kill one of my men unless we brought her in here." His smile grows into a friendly grin, flashing his perfectly clean teeth at us. His hair, gray and healthy, hangs down in the shapes of crescent moons against his temples, like it's come loose in a fight — The only imperfection to his neat appearance. "She can stay. Tell me, how old is she?"

"Take Harley back to my brother's," Dad warns him again, voice dropping into a growl.

"I'd say she looks eight. Maybe nine," Philip guesses. "You know, that's around my daughter's age."

Slowly, my Dad stands up, matching the man's height. "This ain't got nothin' to do with her. You got a kid, you'll understand."

"I've also got a town to keep safe. If you were a leader, you'd understand." He retorts calmly, nodding to the table. "Now, sit."

The guard leaning against the wall smirks at us.

Breathing harshly, nostrils flared, Dad glances down at me. We have to do as he says. Realizing this, he grabs my hand and we carefully make our way over to the round table in the middle of the room, the glow of the light bulb lending it a soft, yellow hue.

I sit down in the closest chair, Dad taking the one opposite mine as Philip takes up the head of the table.

As we sit together in an uncomfortable silence, I notice I was wrong.

Philip's unkempt hair is far from his only imperfection — I just had to see him under a better light for them to make themselves known, like noticing a scuff on a window only when the sun hits it, or peeling back a bandage to reveal a hideous wound. I begin to squirm anxiously, unable to take my eyes off him. His forearms are littered with tiny droplets of blood, red freckles against the beige of his clean skin, a large splotch smeared over the glass of his expensive watch, still tick, tick, ticking away with each second that passes.

Strangely, his tie is still perfectly straight.

"Let me tell you this, Daryl." He doesn't take his eyes off Dad, and Dad doesn't take his eyes off him, matching his cool gaze with an impossibly hot, angry one. If he could, he'd tackle this man to the ground. Philip leans back in his chair, looking like he enjoys Dad's obvious struggle. "I don't want to hurt your daughter. I've done a lot of things for this town, but hurting children isn't one of them."

"Daryl?" Glenn shouts from the other room, earning only silence. "Daryl, is Harley still in there?"

"But if you make me hurt her," He continues cooly, "I won't have any problems with that."

Glancing down, I watch Dad's knuckles turn white as he claws anxiously at his thighs.

"Harley, can you hear me? Are you okay?"

"Like I said." His smile turns smug. "There's always two sides to a person."

"Harley?"

I want to answer Glenn, but I'm scared that if I do, it might make Philip angry. I can't make Philip angry.

"I already told you when you was beatin' my face in earlier," Dad mutters angrily. "They cut us loose months ago."

"No, that story's not gonna cut it anymore," Philip sighs in frustration. "Your brother told me he had a chat with your daughter and that she said your group is probably worried about where you've been all day. How can those two things be true at once?"

I see the breath leave Dad's body, defeat taking over his expression. Oh, no. I messed up. I messed it all up.

"You know kids. They never lie."

When Philip looks at me, my whole body stiffens.

I ruined Dad's story. I—I didn't mean to give anything away, I swear. I didn't even know I was giving anything away when I was talking to my Uncle Merle. Stupid, stupid, stupid girl. How could I have not realized he and Glenn were probably gonna lie?

"So, now that we've got that out in the open — Here's how this is gonna go."

Dad won't look at me, but I wish he would so that he could see I'm sorry.

"I'm going to ask you three times where your people are." Philip leans forward, resting his forearms on the table. "The first two times, you're going to tell me to go fuck myself, or to go to Hell, or what-not. But the third time, you're going to tell me."

I flinch as a dull thud comes from the other side of the wall, Glenn crying out in pain.

Philip doesn't flinch at all. "Where are your people?"

Shaking his head in disgust, my Dad lets out a weak, sarcastic chuckle. "Go fuck yourself. My daughter doesn't need to be here."

Nodding, Philip simply asks again, "Where are your people?"

Glenn cries out again in the silence that follows, and again, and again, the blunt sounds of a fist coming down on his body making me flinch each time as if I'm the one being hit. It's such an awful thing to listen to, but Dad's refusing to fill the silence and Philip seems more than happy to let us stew in it. I feel like I've been tied to this chair, unable to move, but it's just his presence that's keeping me down.

"Okay," Philip mutters after a minute or two, taking a deep breath, and reaching for his holster.

My Dad's eyes go wide, and that's the last thing that happens before Philip's pointing a gun at my head. My blood runs cold. Oh. I stare into the barrel. It's a single, black eye staring straight into mine, a slender finger resting on the trigger.

Don't move, Harley, I tell myself, even though my hands are shaking, And it'll be okay.

"This will be the last time," He says. "Where are your people?"

Squeezing my eyes shut, a tear slips down my cheek.

When I open them again, my Dad is looking at me. I don't think I've ever seen him look this scared, not even when our house got robbed when I was seven, or when Merle sniffed all that powder and broke a window, or when Tank got injured. He's never scared. If I could tell ya one thing about my Dad, it's that. He's the bravest, toughest person I know, who right now, looks absolutely terrified.

He's gonna tell him, I think, already mourning the moment he does. He's gonna tell him.

Sniffling, swallowing down whimpers, I hope he can tell that I won't be angry at him for it. Rick wouldn't be, neither.

"Meriweather County prison."

A hiccup escapes me. My chest violently shudders, filled with heavy dread. He told him.

None of us are safe, anymore. Not even Judith. We're— We're gonna have to move, or hide,— O-or maybe we can't do anything. Maybe when they come and take everything we own and all the people I love are dead, I'll think of this moment.

"That's where they are," He adds, quiet, ashamed.

Philip's smile returns.

"Look at that. I could just get him to do anything like this, couldn't I, Harley?" He chuckles, but I just can't stop crying, not even if I hold my breath like my Daddy taught me how, or if I imagine something nice, something that isn't a gun pointed at my head, or my Dad's bruised face, or the guard standing in the corner, watching this play out. "Your big, strong Dad. Have you ever seen him dance?"

"Just stop," I beg him. "Ya wanted to know where our group was, and he— he told ya. Just s-stop."

"C'mon, Daryl." He grins at him, ignoring me. "Stand up. Give us a little dance while you're feeling so compliant."

My Dad reluctantly rises from his seat, and I wish I didn't have to watch. I want to tell him, it's alright, because that's what he would tell me. This whole thing is almost over. Just do as he says. After standing there for a moment, embarrassed, looking at the floor, he starts to awkwardly do the hustle. The sound of his boots shuffling against the floor fills the room and somehow it's crueller than watching him be punched or kicked or strangled because at least then, I could see the thing that's being broken and it would be dignified.

Philip's chuckling to himself, enjoying the show. I feel the overwhelming urge to ask him what the Hell is wrong with him.

"It's like being at one of my daughter's ballet recitals all over again," He laughs. "I'd like to see a spin, Daryl."

Glancing at the gun again, my Dad defeatedly spins in a circle, his expression twisted up in shame.

I think he wishes I didn't have to watch, too.

When he comes to a stop, Philip's laughter dies out, smile lingering like a thin ripple after a tall wave.

He looks at me. "I want you to remember this the next time he says he can protect you. Will you do that for me?"

"I hate you," I seethe through my tears.

"Harley," Dad hisses in desperation, his eyes darting between me and Philip. "Harley, shut the fuck up."

"I hate you."

"Well, that's not nice," Philip croons. I hate him so much. No, I will not remember this the next time Dad says he can protect me. My Dad is brave. He's tough. That ain't gonna change just 'cause this bully humiliates him while he hides behind his gun, too much of a pussy to pick on somebody his own size. I hate, hate, hate him. "'If you don't have anything nice to say'... You know how it goes."

"You're a bully," I spit, feeling the anger simmer up into my face. "You're a crazy, stupid bully and you should die."

"Harley," Dad warns me again. "Harley, baby, please."

"You gonna shoot me like y'all shot my friend, Glenn? Huh?"

"When I shoot you, I won't be doing anything your Dad hasn't already," He tells me. "You're forgetting why you're here."

"We're here 'cause my Dad shot some feller who was tryna kill us!" I shout at him, ignoring the way my Dad keeps begging me to, shut up, Harley. Please, shut up. "And you told me you ain't even liked him, so you can shut the fuck up about it!"

"Are you done?"

"Just leave us the Hell alone, already!" I squeal, furious, panting. "I just— We just— We wanna go h-home."

Whenever I shouted at my Dad or Uncle Merle like this, I'd forget about myself right up until my anger bubbled down and the room went quiet, my heartbeat drumming against my skull the only thing I could hear. Then, everything would become clear to me again, and the anger quickly cooled like a red metal being dunked in a bucket of water, hardening into fear. We would stare each other down for a minute or two, huffing and puffing like offended bulls in a fighting ring until one of us snapped — And it was never me.

Here, now, Philip doesn't reach for his belt, pull it from its loops, whip it over the backs of my thighs. He doesn't grab me by the ear and bring my face close to his, lecturing me on manners while I nod for every word he says.

All he does is ask one last time, his voice as calm and smooth as a glass lake, "Are you done?"

Gulping, I glance around the room, as if to check it's still the same as it was before I lost my temper.

"You got what'chu wanted," My Dad reminds him. "I did what'chu asked. You know you ain't got no issues with my daughter."

"I do have issues with little potty-mouthed girls who can't hold their tongue," He says, raising a brow at me.

Usually, this is where I'd start babbling, Please, I didn't mean it. I was just angry. But I'm still angry. And I did mean it.

Stubbornly, I say nothing.

"Okay. Harley," He says, light as a feather. "Come and give me an apology kiss, and it'll all be forgiven."

I almost falter.

That's what he wants?

I can't stop myself from mumbling, "What?"

"You heard me."

That's right. I did hear him. A kiss?

Like what Glenn and Maggie do, because they're boyfriend-girlfriend? And Rick and Lori, because they're husband-wife?

Is-is he—? "Are you serious?"

"I don't think you should ever ask that question to a man with a gun to your head," He says smugly. Yes, he's serious.

For some reason, I glance at my Dad to get permission from him, because he'll put me in time-out for giving Philip a kiss without his say-so. It's one of them things I don't need to know all the logistics of to know — to feel — that it's wrong, but he don't look angry with me, even though he and Merle have always told me I ain't allowed to kiss a boy until I was eighteen. He just looks broken.

Looking back at Philip and the expectant look on his face, I force myself to stand from my chair.

It scr-cr-crapes painfully against the floor before I'm on my feet, creeping around the table as he keeps the gun trained on me.

Every step feels like a stride through a minefield, careful, terrifying, bracing myself for the gun to go off if I make the wrong move.

When I come to a stop in front of him, the tear clinging to my jaw slips onto my shirt, soaking through the fabric, onto my skin. It's warm. I think I hear Dad seething something under his breath as Philip leans forward and his nose almost grazes mine.

A kiss. That could also mean the type of kiss my Dad or Maggie or Carol or Lori gives me, right?

A kiss on the cheek?

"You know, in my family," He says, tapping the gun against my lips. "We used to kiss on the mouth. Must be an Italian thing."

I shy away from the cold metal, turning my head to the side as if it's a spoonful of broccoli I don't want anywhere near me. His breath is hot, fanning gently across my chin. The smell of sweat and shampoo mingles together into a thick, poisonous gas and I quicken my breathing, short and shallow pants escaping me just to stop it from entering my lungs, to make it feel a little less real.

"C'mon." He says quieter, looking at me, the little fish he knows he's got on the hook. "Aren't you sorry?"

Glancing down at his mouth — Yes. Yes, I am sorry. I'm sorry I said those things aloud.

Dad tries to talk to me like I'm the only other person in the room — "Harley Dixon, look at me," — but the guard cocks his gun.

I have to do it.

It'll only take one second.

Everything that happens in this room will stay in this room and I'll forget all about it once we're back home.

I kiss Philip on the mouth. It's quick. It's barely there. It's like I'm kissing a hot coal and I don't want to burn myself, and I'm flinching backwards, trying to will away the warm sensation on my mouth as Philip smiles, pleased. I'm gross. I'm so gross.

"That wasn't so hard." I can feel his gravelly voice all over me. I want to go home. "All's forgiven."

"You're sick," My Dad grits through his teeth, tears brimming on his lashes. "A sick motherfucker. Somethin' real wrong with you."

Unbothered, Philip stands from his chair. "I'll leave you to figure out what that is, then."

"I wanna talk to my brother."

"See you later, Daryl."

When he and the guard leave the room and the door slams shut in our faces, a piece of me leaves with them.

Author's Notes.

— SUMMARY: A few hours after the ending of the previous chapter, Daryl is refusing to reveal any information until it can be proven to him that Harley is alright. Merle brings Harley to the blocks and she is locked in Daryl's cell with him until the Governor arrives to interrogate them.

Daryl reveals the group's location when he puts a gun to Harley's head. She gets emotional and cusses the Governor out, prompting him to force her to kiss him on the mouth as an apology.

Should I start this off by saying I'm sorry?! 😭 I'm sorry!

This was messed up. I felt very uncomfortable writing this, but I needed a traumatic event to happen to Harley while they were in Woodbury. It's part of my plan for her and Daryl's arcs this season. I hate when media throws sexual assault around as a key point in a female character's story but I just had a problem with the Governor physically torturing Harley. I feel like this is more realistic.

And don't worry about Merle. He wouldn't have let this happen if he wasn't also being threatened.

Let me know what you thought! See you next time! :)

@poetoflawed

#the walking dead #twd #twd fanfiction #daryl dixon #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon daughter #daryl dixon twd #fanfic #rick grimes #angst #twd daryl dixon #daryl dixon fanfic #twd daryl #tw noncon #glenn rhee #the governor #norman reedus

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purple-dragon-queen · 6 months

Note

You said when you were watching the Descendants rise of red teaser trailer you didn't get to pause and look for details since it was a quick watch but assuming you've watched it fully now, can I get your thoughts and opinions?

⚠️ KINDA LONG POST⚠️

I will be sharing MY thoughts and opinions on The new teaser trailer for rise of red, so if that bothers you it's time to ski dazzle off of My post 💋

Feel free to Reblog with your ideas aswell. Would love to see em

Okay so the first thing I thought of when kylie(red) pulled out all the spray paint and start doing her thing, was Mal. Like Disney bae it's giving Mal dupe.

Second and this one got me cracking was The Merlin Academy. Like My brain totally disregarded it as in I FORGOT ABOUT IT, so imagine to my horror when red is spray painting I see them BLAM! Plastered on the wall in all their Evil Glory.

Okay so I found this picture on Instagram where someone got a close up and other than Ulyanna, Maleficent, Hades and Hook, I don't know who the others are ( sorry not sorry) Now underneath the picture we can see on a plaque the words "vk students" now this made me realize why the title vk was so accepting when the core four came to aruadon, Because it wasnt the first time the title had been given/used.

Now look at this close up of teen Maleficent all I have to say is Wtf is that.

If those things at the side of her head are supposed to be horns, respectfully she needs to chop them tf off?? And is she wearing a ponytail??? Now I haven't seen Maleficent in a long time but isn't she supposed to have brown hair? Now idc if they give her a different hair color but the outfit and those HORNS especially are not giving!!!.

Like I saw someone do a redesign of this descendantofthesparrow I think and it was jaw dropping absolutely gorgeous, like mam what's your major? Anyways yeah I've seen this person done a ton of redesign and rewrites that when I watch descendants I'm like "oh yeah, this is Canon and the good stuff is fanfic"

Now this whole time travel thing doesn't make sense to Me because am I really supposed to believe that Hades who's older Than all of them by thousands of years went to school with them? Like what.

I'm going to assume Ulyanna is the Leader of the gang because she's in the middle and everyone else is in the back and from what we've seen the Leader is always in the middle.

Now I have a feeling rise of red will be pushing to make Hades and Maleficent a thing so we can see how Mal became a thing, just an assumption. Respectfully If they try to make hook and ulyanna a thing I will jump tf off. There was something else I wanted to say about Hades and Maleficent but I forgot and will most likely reblog this post when I remember.

now this is the Queen of Hearts and once again Descendants isn't following Canon because I'm pretty sure Carlos mentioned at one point that he used to drive his mom to the queen of hearts castle.

Now if I didn't know already that this is the queen of hearts and u shoved this pic in my fave and was like "girly who do you think this is?" I WOULD NOT SAY THE QUEEN OF HEARTS, I MEAN JUST LOOK AT HER SHE'S RED! Where are the other colors??? There's no white, no black just RED. Now as a theatre kid we've done better, with less money!!!. Disney I hope you are ashamed because you should be.

Now descendants brandy Cinderella has blue hair which doesn't make any damn sense so I'm guessing that's why Chole has blur hair. I really wish there outfits were better because with the og 4 we could tell what their main colors were without it being to much but now It's Def too much. I've got a few more things to add because I feel like I haven't said everything I wanted to so maybe I'll reblog with more later. Who knows

#disney descendants #descendants #mal descendants #disney hades #Maleficent #disney rise of red #descendants rise of red

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your-queer-dad · 5 months

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Ok, here I go!

About a year and a half ago, I became completely obsessed with space (I even wanted to be an astronaut and/or astronomer, hehe). I would spend hours and hours watching documentaries and series about it, and it was literally the only thing I could talk about. Time passed, and I've had other obsessions since then, but I still always seize any opportunity to explain random and usually useless facts about space (which are only useful in very specific situations), thanks to the obsession of my 10/11-year-old self. Since my friends didn't want to listen (they better not dare ask me for help with science), I'm going to share what I’ve already mentioned and continue from there:

Did you know that the Sun is a giant nuclear fusion reactor?

Nuclear fusion is when the nuclei of atoms merge, creating an exponential amount of energy!

Stars convert deuterium (a type of hydrogen) into helium-3.

Humans haven't yet managed to achieve nuclear fusion because it requires a huge amount of energy to bring atoms together.

What we do with atomic bombs and nuclear reactors is nuclear fission.

Fission is breaking the nucleus of the atom, causing a chain reaction where everything breaks apart.

In reactors, this is controlled.

But in a bomb, it's deliberately left out of control.

That's also why stars die.

Their fuel isn't infinite.

And when it runs out, stars start fusing helium atoms, which reduces their size; this is the case for stars with less than four times the mass of the Sun.

Stars with more than four times the mass of the Sun either become supernovas (a cosmic explosion that leaves a nebula behind) or black holes—I think.

Scientists estimate that about 1/4 (I think) of all stars have planets, and among those, 1/4 should be in the habitable zone! This means it's unlikely that we're alone in the universe.

The habitable zone is the orbit around a star that provides the right temperature to support life.

This reminds me that they've found two planets orbiting a pulsar! They're extremely radioactive and can't support life, but it's interesting because they couldn’t have formed there!!!!

Pulsars or neutron stars are super dense stars (a tablespoon could pierce through Earth!!!), and I don't remember exactly how they're formed. It has something to do with stellar death. I'll come back and add that information later!

Have you heard of Betelgeuse? It's a star not too far away (far enough, don't worry, we're not in danger) that's on the brink of a supernova and would be visible from Earth! HOW COOL IS THAT?

We can also talk about stellar color and what it says about their temperature!

Contrary to popular belief, blue is the hottest star color (DON'T DARE), and red is the coolest! The Sun is in the middle, being a yellow star (I think), with a surface temperature of 5000°C!!! Just to give you an idea, the melting point of carbon is 3550°C and the boiling point is 4287°C. So, you wouldn't burn on the Sun's surface; you'd evaporate. Of course, that's if you even made it there in one piece, which you wouldn't.

-Leo

Hey kiddo, these facts are amazing!!!!!!!!! I feel so educated!!!!! If you have any more, feel free to send em my way I'd love to hear em! You're so smart and I'm so incredibly proud of you! 🫂🫂

- dad x

#lgbt #finch rambles #lgbtq #lgbtqia #queer positivity #trans #transgender #ask a finch!#trans joy #outer space #space facts

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inventors-fair · 2 months

Text

Updates and Expectations

Hey folks. Couple of important notes before we get into the meat:

To accommodate spoiler warnings, we generally ask that future set mechanics not be used until a set has had its prerelease—i.e. don't use Duskmourn mechanics until the contest announced on September 15th, since the prerelease will be on that Friday the 20th. Again, this is minor, something we'd prefer, but not the end of the world. We've talked about this on Discord but not on Tumblr, so some folks might not have heard about it. Our bad.

If you're somehow not submitting from a Tumblr account, please add some way to tag you, or literally any information whatsoever. We've had a couple folks submit from email addresses and, well, it's frustrating when we're not even sure if you're gonna see comments later.

As everyone knows, all cards need artist credit for discernable pictures. If it's a random set of pixels like what I usually do, don't worry about it. If it's a text art description, also don't worry about it. Original art? Credit yourself, you gorgeous maestro! Mashup art from other MTG cards? Gotta credit 'em all. Stock photo? Find the original photographer and/or credited group. Game screenshot? Credit the developer. Use your critical thinking skills and find solutions; we have faith in y'all's abilities.

Alright. Now for the other stuff.

Commentary on cards, as everyone knows, can range from some quick snippets to a massive essay-long series of thoughts and opinions. I range from about 4,000-8,000 words for mine. Now that I'm working on Saturdays, it's going to be a bit tight to get things in in the afternoon, but that's what Friday (and the week in general) is for. I'm in a fortunate position regarding time, space, and experience in writing.

As some folks might've noticed, commentary isn't always on time with the contests in question. The long story short is that there's no easy solution to this. If I was running this full-time solo, I would barely have time to write for myself during the week. Even divided, commentary is a massive undertaking—and it isn't always tenable.

Going forward, the winners and runners should still be around their right time barring extenuating schedules and circumstances. Commentary will just not always be available for the rest of the entries, especially if there are larger numbers. I don't think that limiting the number of entries is a good option, and there are just too many factors for this position to warrant that every judge fulfill commentary every week. I'll try to get in commentary as much as I can, and in this position I'm grateful that I'm able to get it all done to the degree that I have over the years. Not everyone has that time or energy, and it's more of a toll than meets the eye.

In the #fair-talk in Discord, Judges can ask any questions you might have about the card and offer their opinions and insights. That way, you can get some in-depth comments on your card that may not be available in lieu of full commentary. If full commentary is available, then feel free to read up and read away!

One last note: THE EARLIER YOU GET YOUR CARD IN, THE BETTER! Late entries are totally fine, but speaking from experience, doing commentary over the week becomes more difficult when we have multiple entries down to the wire. Sometimes timing and schedules make things difficult! The fact is that timing still matters. Help us help you.

We're all here for the love of the game. We all understand that mental taxes are just as taxing as anything. And, I hope we all understand that writing is really hard. Be well, stay sharp.

@abelzumi

#mtg #magic the gathering #inventor's fair #updates

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nono-uwu · 7 months

Text

Ons chapter 135 thoughts!!

Spoilers duh (also very long post. Lmk if I should add the read more cut)

- KAGAMI I DIDN'T KNOW YOU HAD IT IN YOU TO GIVE CHESS AND HORN MORE SCREENTIME BUT THANK YOU ANYWAYS

- I am so glad that the whole digestion thing is more symbolical bc... that inital wording really threw me off lmao

- on that note, the immagery of the dead trees with the bodies sticking out of 'em... very creepy and on point, I think it's neat

- they actually adressed Crowley forgetting them! Wowzers (side note she looks hella adorable. My little skrunkly)

- ouugh the dynamic... where was it earlier? It seems so much more casual than during the Nagoya arc (probably just wishful thinking on my part lmao)... idc how give us more of this

- "you two were my first servants", LORE CRUMBS! I guess.

- wait so, they're still becoming demons? But isn't that a form of reincarnation, the thing Ferid is specifically trying to stop? But he's also devouring them... to absorb their power I guess? Since later on Ferid mentions now being more powerful after devouring Crowley (I'll get to that asspull later)

- Also Horn looks a teensy bit weird with the new artstyle but she's still super pretty 🫶 be my wife pls

- So, 16 year old Ferid is inside himself as his 'true self'? I assume that because he got the idea to stop reincarnation when he was 16 and hasn't changed his mind since (never let 16 year olds make big decisions in this world, it only leads to disaster)

- the skrunkle part 2. Also I doubt being digested like that feels good in any way. And with how slow it's supposed to be, yikes.

- I have a theory (aka major amounts of copium): Yuu will bust in and save Crowley because of 'fAmiLy' and also save Chess and Horn since they're family by association

- No one can reach Ferid, eh? And then Corwley's voice reaches him. Kagami and his queerbaiting amirite

- However Ferid then snags Crowley and ig he's on the priority list of getting devoured. Probably bc he's the strongest vampire Ferid has eaten. Cannibalism as a metaphor for love and devotion or whatever, except it's very literal and I doubt there's any love beyond 'u and interesting critter dude' from both sides

- Ok here's my major nitpick with this chapter: KAGAMI STOP BREAKING AND BENDING YOUR OWN FUCKING WORLDBUILDING AND POWER SYTEMS. Until now it was established that a vampires strenght is dependant on 1. their rank (as in who's blood turned them) and 2. their age. But now appearantly Ferid can eat vampires and absorb their strenght? If this was some universal but very difficult thing for any vampire to do, then I wouldn't be this salty. Also one of my favourite things about Ferid as an antagonist was, that power-wise he was on the weaker side. Despite being 'weak' he was still a major threat. He made up for his lack in actual fighting power with smarts and immaculate planning. But now he's another uber-strong genius. C'mon we already had Shikama and Rigr for that department. Bleh.

- now for the Yuu / Rigr and co confrontation, it's fiiiiine. I guess. At least Shikama is still somewhat of a formidable threat. Not to the major characters obviously but yk, it's something.

- rip Basteya. You showed up, slayed for a little and died.

- Kirsten still looks fugly as hell lmao

- so do Ulrich and Roger

- So, who will be faster: Shinoa in absorbing Shikama or Yuu in saving him? My bet is on Yuu purley bc he's supposed to be the main character but ig we'll see next chapter

- KRUL!!! AND THE BAT THING I FORGOT IT'S NAME

- sadly no Ferid / Krul brawl this chapter but yk what makes me excited for next chapter

- my guess is that now Krul is Ferids next target to be chomped. Hopefully she will beat his ass. Like when she first appeared. Ahhh the good old times

- 'A big fan of yours... M'lady Queen' lmao. What's next Ferid, will you put on a Fedora? Bro that last panel ain't it. Fuckin Sebastian of black butler wannabe 💀

#owari no seraph #seraph of the end #ons #crowley eusford #ferid bathory #chess belle #horn skuld #krul tepes #ons spoilers

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thoroughlymodernminutia · 9 months

Text

This Christmas - Prequel

Pairing: Benny "Borracho" Magalon x F!Reader

Word count: 8,219

Summary: This is a prequel of sorts to this from last year. It’s basically the how Benny and the reader met, etc

Warnings: Mostly Hallmark-style fluffy stuff, lots of pining, but brief mention of loss, guilt, some foul language. If I missed anything else let me know and I'll add it in.

A/N: I don’t know folks, I started writing this and was really chugging along and had a whole plan for how I wanted this to be. Then I got sick with everyone’s favorite illness from 2020 and lost a lot steam. I found, I think, a happy compromise with myself because I wanted to post this before Christmas (self imposed deadlines am I right?) and realized I can always I don’t know, post more parts of it later?? I am my own worst critic so if you read this and it isn’t your jam, please don’t say anything lol I’ve probably already thought it, so it would be redundant! Also, clearly, I do not know the proper use of a semicolon, or an em dash and I don't have an editor, so we'll all just have to deal. Anyways, Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, all that jazz

-----------

It’s a little after six in the morning and they still haven’t rolled in. Usually, the five of them would have been here for an hour already; a few hungover, one still drunk, and the fifth one acting like an adult babysitter for the other four. It’s weird how this happens–people come into your little donut shop and after a while, instead of you becoming part of their routine, they become part of yours. Eventually they start to feel like stand-ins for the friends you hardly ever get to see. You’re busy with your business and they’re busy with their jobs and families.

It could feel lonely, but you have people like Noreen, who comes in every Friday to buy three dozen assorted donuts for her team. Noreen is kind and not the type of person you envision working at a private equity firm. When you were thinking about expanding into the small space next door, she looked at your plan and helped you figure out where you were being too aggressive and in some cases too shortsighted. She didn’t ask for anything in return, but you made sure her next three dozen donuts were on the house.

There’s Will, a retired teacher, who comes in every Sunday. He used to come in with his partner, Charles, and they would sit at the table you have set up near the front window. They traded off different sections of the newspaper while drinking their coffee and sharing one old-fashioned donut and one raspberry jelly donut; they never strayed from those. Charles passed away six months ago and it was unexpected. You didn’t expect to see Will for a while, but routine is hard to give up especially when it’s the only thing you have left. Every Sunday morning you set a 'reserved' sign on the table near the window.

There’s Stuart, who hangs out in the plaza your shop is located in. You’re not sure if he’s unhoused or just likes to spend his day outside, but it felt strange to always see him and not interact with him. One day you invited him to come by for coffee and a donut but he turned you down. You told him the offer was good for any time and that you hoped you’d see him in there soon. He came in a few days later and it made you feel like you were doing some good; and then you felt bad for feeling like that. Stuart’s reserved and not much of a talker so you just let him sit at a table while you go about your work. Some days he’ll start a conversation; it’s rare but it feels like you both trust each other enough to make more than small talk. If you don’t see him in his usual spot outside, you worry. He usually turns up a few days later, but you're concerned that at some point he won’t turn up and what are you supposed to do then?

There’s a handful of people that fall into this category of if they never came back you would notice. It’s because some of them are smart and kind like Noreen. Some because they sit in the same spot, newspaper sections still divided in two, like Will. Some because their silence fills your little shop, like Stuart. And some whose absence you would notice because they don’t fit into these boxes. Sometimes they can be loud or irritating; but they can also be entertaining. And they’re are always five of them, but only one that makes you feel like you’re thirteen and just saw your middle school crush.

They started coming in sometime in February. You only remember because the biggest one said he’s 'not eating a fucking, prissy, heart-shaped donut.' Some men are like that, afraid if they come in contact with something feminine that’s not a woman, that their dick will fall off. He was loud and obnoxious and only one of the other four looked truly embarrassed for the guy and for himself. He apologized for his friend and ordered five large coffees and a dozen glazed donuts.

“You sure glazed are going to be manly enough for your friend over there?”

You ticked your head over towards the table where his friends were sitting. He laughed and it was a surprisingly warm laugh for a man with neck tattoos.

“He won’t even remember being here, let alone what kind of donuts he ate.”

He sounded annoyed but used to the behavior. You remembered having friends like that, in your twenties, but you were well past that age and so were these guys by the look of it. You saw him eyeing an apple fritter so you grabbed it from the case, put it on a plate, and set it on the counter next to the box of donuts.

“On the house, since it doesn’t look like you’re getting paid for your babysitting duties.”

He smiled, said thank you, and then went to sit with his loud friends. You noticed he was quiet in comparison and thought it would be nice if they were all quiet like that.

When they were getting ready to leave you saw that the quiet one made sure all the trash was thrown away and all the dishes went into the right bin. At the door as they were leaving he gave you a small wave thanking you again. There was something about his smile that made it feel like flowers were blooming in your stomach. That feeling carried you for a week. You’d think of that moment of him at the door and a fog would enter your brain and the flowers in your stomach would grow larger.

The feeling would start to subside after a while and you would get caught up in your real life–your business, the rare time with your friends, the occasional bad date. It would slowly drift from the front of your mind to the back. Then they would show up and the cycle would continue.

The one who had the soft smile and neck tattoo, you learned his name was Benny. And that if you gave him a choice between the apple fritter and anything else, he would choose the apple fritter one hundred percent of the time. The loud drunk, that was Big Nick and he’s only been not drunk five percent of the time they’ve come in. There’s Connors, Zapata, and Henderson–you’ve only heard them referred to by their last names. A thing that you’ve only ever heard men do. They all come in once or twice a month–usually early, usually hungover. It makes you wonder what they do before they end up at your place. You never ask because to know would be to probably ruin your crush on Benny.

Benny always pays and there’s a part of you that hopes he’s doing it just for the chance to talk to you. When he leaves he always gives you a wave goodbye and a thanks again. The flowers in your stomach have bloomed and blossomed to an embarrassing degree by the end of May. And that’s when they stopped coming in.

—-

Benny shakes his head no at Connor’s who’s trying to hand him a beer, “Not feeling it tonight.”

Benny isn’t feeling it any night, but he keeps that to himself. The drinking, the cocaine, the women, none of it interests him and it hasn’t for a while. Since February if he’s being honest with himself.

They had ended up at your donut shop, Glazy for You under random circumstances. The usual place they would go to sober up after one of these parties had been closed down by the health department. He should have known it was bound to happen, the place was dim and oddly seedy for a diner. Benny was the designated driver that night, since he hadn’t been feeling well he didn’t drink and spent most of the night ushering random women out of a grim motel room. When he saw Glazy for You as he was driving by, it looked like the complete opposite of his evening; it was bright, there were Valentine’s decorations on the window. It looked comforting and warm, two things he felt like he was missing in his life.

Nick of course was an asshole and Benny felt like he spent a lot of time silently apologizing to you. His apologies must have entered you mind telepathically because you gave him an apple fritter–the best apple fritter he’s ever had in his whole fucking life. There must have been some kind of magic in because that moment lodged itself somewhere in his heart and reappears when he’s feeling low. Like now–sitting in this motel room, on this couch that probably hasn’t been cleaned in two decades, watching his friends lose their fucking minds over shit they should have outgrown.

Benny hasn’t seen you in months, ninety-seven days to be exact, not that he’s counting. They’ve been working on one case after the next and it’s left time for little else. No post drug test parties, no early mornings sitting in a donut shop waiting for everyone to sober up, no you. It’s been sleep and work for three months straight. Last time he saw you, it seemed like you were happy to see him. Maybe he imagined that feeling; misunderstood the warmth in your smile. Maybe that’s the smile that you’ve practiced in order to be able to perform it for everyone. Maybe everyone feels what he feels when they see you.

Benny sinks further into the couch and looks up at the ceiling. It’s a drop ceiling which brings back memories of a case he had worked on. While securing a crime scene, they were in the living room of a run down apartment. It had this same type of ceiling and a body fell right through it onto the floor. He thinks that maybe this is how it ended up being called a drop ceiling, because shit just drops right out. That thought, that memory makes him realize that he doesn’t want to be in this room anymore. He gets up, grabs his jacket off the back of the couch, and leaves. He hears Connors call after him as he’s closing the door but he doesn’t care. He only has one place that he wants to be right now.

—-

You’re putting a tray of bear claws in the display case when you hear the door open. It’s still early, the sun is barely up, pink and purple hues are still in the sky. You get a lot of municipal workers that come in at this time, barely past opening. So it’s a little bit of a surprise when you get a glimpse through the display case of Benny walking in, alone.

There’s a second while you’re crouched down, adjusting the tray that you let yourself be excited; allow yourself to give into the childish feeling of getting a glimpse of your crush. Your knees are wobbly as you stand up–unsure if it’s because you’re getting old or because he’s looking right at you.

“Oh hey, how’ve you been?” You wipe your palms on the front of the apron you’re wearing. “It’s been a while.”

You try to sound neutral, neither excited to see him or disappointed that it's been so long. He smiles and that familiar sensation of flowers blooming returns.

“We’ve been working on a lot of cases and it’s been hard to find time for anything else.”

You lean forward and rest your arms on top of the bakery case.

“Cases? You guys are lawyers?” As the words leave your mouth you realize how truly stupid it sounds. You’ve never in your life seen any lawyers that look like these guys.

Benny chuckles and rubs the back of his neck, something he does when feels embarrassed or self conscious.

“No, definitely not lawyers. Detectives. We work for the Los Angeles Sheriff’s Department.”

You fail at suppressing a laugh, “I’m sorry. All of you are detectives? Even your friend Nick?”

Benny knows your laugh isn’t mean spirited and if he were you, he’d probably laugh too, knowing what he knows about the people he works with. He moves closer to display case and leans in.

“Even Nick. You seem surprised.”

“It’s just. I.” You pause, trying to choose your words with care, because you like Benny and you don’t want to insult him, “I mean, it’s hard to imagine being a victim of a crime or something and like Nick is the person taking your statement, trying to help you. That is my nightmare.”

You hope you don’t sound like an asshole, but the idea of Nick serving and protecting seems like a stretch. If you offend Benny, he doesn’t show it, he just laughs.

“The way that you’ve seen him, I can understand the sentiment. He’s not like that a hundred percent of the time. I promise.”

You give Benny a joking look, “Okay, but what percentage are we talking here?”

You’re both laughing when the rest of the guys walk in. The rowdiness is a shock to your system after not dealing with it for a while. You look at Benny and he’s no longer leaning in towards you and maybe you’re projecting, but you think he looks a little disappointed too.

Benny’s disappointed, but he tries his best to hide it. The guys may be drunk, but they are cops and they are perceptive. Benny already knows he has a reputation among them as being soft. It used to bother him, but it hasn’t for a while. He knows he would rather be soft than be the type of man that can’t feel anything other than bitterness and rage.

“Borracho, you fucking asshole, you left us.”

Nick, is of course loud and slurring his words. Benny hopes you can’t understand Spanish–he doesn’t want to be known as a ‘drunk’ to you.

Benny turns from you to look at the guys. Connors is propping Nick up; Henderson and Zapata are stumbling towards a table.

“I was hungry.”

Benny hopes it’s enough to shut Nick up. He knows it’s not because he sees Nick loosen himself from Connors and stumble towards him. He claps a large, drunk hand on Benny’s shoulder and the force almost knocks him backwards.

“Fuck, Borracho. You’re no fun anymore.”

Nick is a mess and that’s not really that surprising to you. What is surprising is how uncomfortable Benny looks. He has the look of a man who would give anything to disappear. You can’t really blame him, these guys, Nick especially, are exhausting to be around and you only deal with them for a few hours a month.

“Can I get you guys something or are you just going to loiter?”

Benny looks towards you and you give him a sympathetic smile. He shakes Nick off of him and is about to order when Nick lurchers towards the counter that you’re standing behind. You step back as he unsuccessfully tries to paw at you.

“I know what you can get me, sweetheart.”

Benny groans and runs a hand over his face, “Jesus Christ, Nick. Shut the fuck up.”

You step closer to the counter and lean forward, putting a hand on Nick’s shoulder.

“What did I tell you about calling me ‘sweetheart’?”

Nick tilts his head to the side and mutters, “That the next time I do it, you’ll put my head in the deep fryer.”

You pat his shoulder, “Good, you remember.”

You hear Zapata, Henderson, and Connors–who’s joined them at their table laughing and chanting do it, do it.

You gently push Nick away from the counter, “Go sit down unless you’re willing to see if I’m serious.” You look over at Benny, who no longer looks like he wants to disappear. “Benny, five coffees and a dozen glazed, right?”

Benny nods his head, “Yeah, that’s good.”

Nick turns around and starts walking towards where Connors, Zapata, and Henderson are sitting. He jerks his thumb back towards you, “She’s no fun either.”

Benny feels awkward standing here, watching you gingerly place twelve glazed donuts in a box and then pour five large coffees. It’s calming though, watching you do routine things, like you’re slowly rooting out the anxiety of being around drunk idiots. You put the coffees in a tray and place it down on the counter next to the donuts.

Benny pulls out his wallet to pay, “Uh, sorry,” he pauses, he’s sorry about a lot suddenly, “sorry about Nick. He was acting like an asshole.”

You shrug and hand Benny his change, “Don’t worry about it.”

Benny is sitting with the guys and can’t help feeling like he’s messed something up. You didn’t give him an apple fritter like you normally do. He wonders if you’re mad that he didn’t do something more when Nick was acting like an asshole. Maybe he’s overthinking it–he can’t expect you to give him a free donut every time you see him. It’s possible he’s misread the situation entirely, that you’re just friendly and nothing more. He watches you behind the counter adjusting things, bagging up donuts for customers that have come in. When Benny checks his watch for the time, he misses seeing you slip an apple fritter in a bag and write 'Benny' in a tidy script.

You watch the guys start filtering out of your place; Nick and Connors are first and from the store window you can see them getting into separate cabs. Benny is still throwing trash away as Henderson and Zapata leave. They share a cab and you imagine that maybe they rallied enough to start drinking again at 7:30am. You see Benny heading towards the door and it looks like he’s leaving without giving his usual wave goodbye. Your stomach sinks a little–maybe he’s mad at you for not joking around more with Nick or the other guys. Or it could just be that he’s tired and wants to go home and you’re creating feelings that aren’t there.

You grab the bag with the apple fritter from below the counter and hold it up, “Hey, you forgot something.”

Benny looks at the bag with his name on it–it’s the nicest handwriting he’s ever seen. He walks over to the counter and takes the bag from your hand, your fingers overlapping for a fraction of a second.

“So this means you’re not mad at me?”

“Why would I be mad at you? Wait, you think because of Nick?” You look at him strangely as he nods his head yes, “He’s the idiot, I’m not going to hold that against you.”

Benny smiles, “That’s good to know.” He starts walking away, but stops when he gets to the door, holding up the bag with the donut, “Thanks again. I’ll see you later.”

“Take care, Benny.”

—-

“You like that girl at the donut place?”

It sounds less like Connors is asking you a question and more like stating a fact. Benny’s a little caught off guard and pretends to start looking for something on his desk.

“What?”

Benny tries to sound confused, like he’s never even heard the word donut before.

“At the donut place. The girl who runs it, are you into her or something? You always act fucking weird when we’re in there.”

Benny thinks back to all the times they’ve been at Glazy for You, trying to remember his behavior. Did he look at you for too long? Say ‘goodbye’ in a way that sounded like he didn’t want to leave. Benny opens the bottom drawer of his desk and pretends to look for something.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Benny knows he doesn’t sound convincing and Connors must hear it too because he keeps going.

“Really?” Connors sounds incredulous. “You’re always lingering at the counter. She’s always giving you free donuts. Any of this ringing a bell for you?”

Benny can feel Connors staring at him. He closes the desk drawer and goes back to looking at the file on his desk.

“Maybe she likes giving away free donuts. I really couldn’t tell you.”

Connors crumbles a piece of paper into a ball and lobs it at Benny’s head, hitting him just behind the ear.

“Whatever you say asshole.”

—-

The summer goes by quickly–it’s one of your busier seasons. School is out, the weather is nice–there are day camps, company off-sites, and sleepovers. All the types of occasions where the people in charge don’t want to make breakfast but need to provide it. Benny and the guys come in a few times throughout the summer. It feels a little different from before. Benny doesn’t linger at the counter as much anymore and sometimes one of the other guys pays. It’s stupid little things that you shouldn’t notice, but you do, because they used to be part of your routine. It’s embarrassing thinking you let this crush on Benny become such a big part of your life that you’d notice he didn’t pay last time or the time before that. It’s that embarrassment that makes you start building a wall around that garden in your stomach so the flowers can’t reach your heart.

It’s the end of October when you’re opening up one morning and it registers for you that you haven’t seen Stuart since some time around June or July. His absence gnaws at you. You feel like a bad person for not noticing sooner; that feeling that you failed someone even though they weren’t your responsibility. You don’t know what to do or if there’s anything you actually can do. So when you see Benny a few weeks later it feels like a little bit of a last resort when you ask for his help.

—-

You were hoping that Benny would be the person paying this time when they all came in, so you could mention Stuart without having to pull him aside. But he doesn’t and it makes you a little anxious trying to figure out the best way to talk to him about something serious. So it’s a relief when it looks like he’s going to be the last one to leave. He’s behind Connors and when Connors makes it out the door, you stop Benny who’s close behind.

“Benny, hey. Do you have a second?”

You come out from behind the counter, nervously smoothing the apron tied around your waist in short downward strokes. Benny stops and lets the door go from his hand. You look upset and he hopes it’s not because he’s been acting standoffish lately. Ever since Connors asked about you, he’s been trying his best to act normal–whatever that means–around you.

“Did Connors’s card get declined again?”

You let out a small laugh, “No. Um, I was actually wondering if you could help me with something.”

Benny steps a little closer to you. You have some powdered sugar on your cheek and he has to stop himself from brushing it off.

“Yeah, of course. What’s going on?”

“This is probably going to sound weird, or stupid. Maybe both. But there’s this guy who h—”

Benny cuts you off; his voice is a little rougher, “If someone is bothering you, I’ll take care of it.”

You laugh awkwardly, “Oh no, it’s nothing like that. It’s this guy, Stuart. He usually hangs out around here and I have him come in sometimes for coffee or donuts and I haven’t seen him in…since maybe July, I think? I’m just a little worried.” You pause and try to read Benny’s face to see what he’s thinking, “Sorry, this probably sounds stupid to you. I don’t even know what I’m asking.”

Benny scratches his jaw piecing together what he thinks you’re getting at, “Do you know his last name?”

You notice that Benny’s voice has gone back to the soft tone that you’re used to. He’s looking at you with compassion and not like you’re stupid or some kind of burden. Benny is the kind of person that you would want helping you in a crisis and it makes you wish there were more people like him in his line of work.

“I don’t, but I printed a photo from the security camera I have.” You walk over to the counter and lean over, grabbing the photo from under the register. “I don’t even know if you can do anything with that. I watch a lot of crime shows. Don’t judge me.”

Benny laughs and shakes his head as you hand him the photo.

“I don’t want to get your hopes up, but I’ll see what I can find out.”

“Yeah of course. It’s…I don’t know. I’d feel like a bad person if something were to happen to him and I could have helped.”

Benny feels bad because he knows how these things generally end up. Usually there are no happy endings.

“You can’t put that on yourself.”

You nod your head, “I know, but still, you know?”

Benny understands the feeling and also understands it’s easier to tell someone something isn’t their fault than to know it yourself.

As Benny leaves you start to feel a bit lighter. Like someone has taken some of your worry, some of your concern and is carrying it for you; so you aren’t so weighed down.

—-

“What was that about?”

Benny is surprised to see Connors waiting for him in the parking lot.

“Nothing. Well, I guess there’s some guy, homeless, I don’t know. He usually hangs out around here. She hasn’t seen him for a while. She’s worried.”

Connors flicks a cigarette on to the pavement, “Figures she’s one of those bleeding heart types. What did you tell her?”

Benny pats his jacket and then his pants pockets feeling around for a pack of cigarettes, forgetting briefly that he’s trying to quit. Connors pulls his pack from his pocket and tosses them to Benny.

Benny pulls a cigarette out, “I told her I’d look into it.”

Connors laughs and hands Benny a lighter, “Chump.” He waits a beat for Benny to light his cigarette, “But, if you want. We can start looking into it now.”

Benny’s grateful it’s Connors out here and not one of the other guys. Benny and Connors go back further than just Major Crimes and he’s someone Benny would trust with his life.

—-

Benny’s worried that he’s going to have to deliver you bad news. Best case scenario seems like Stuart is in jail. Not great, but it would mean that he’s alive. Worst case scenario is that he can’t find Stuart and that usually doesn’t mean anything good. Benny is suddenly hoping for some kind of miracle for a person he doesn’t even know.

The photo you gave him does turn out to be useful. Connors is able to find him in the system through facial recognition. Stuart Morton has a record; a few arrests for driving while under the influence and some time in a county jail. Benny is able to get a last known address but it’s over a year old. It’s a sober living house that’s not actually that far from Glazy for You. He doesn’t have much hope that going there will bring him any closer to finding Stuart.

It takes a couple of weeks, but Benny is finally able to meet with David, the director of the sober living facility. He finds it’s better to meet with people in person. Talking with people over the phone, he’s learned, makes it easier for them to not give you the information you need. David of course is a little guarded at first with Benny; not wanting to share anything that could get Stuart in trouble, which Benny can’t really fault him for. Benny explains the situation, that the owner of a donut shop near here is worried because they haven’t seen him in a while. When Benny mentions your name to David, he lights up.

“Her glazed old fashioneds are the best ones in this entire state.” He pauses and to Benny it looks like he’s getting lost in the memory of a donut, a feeling he knows well.

“I didn’t realize you two knew each other.”

David turns away from Benny to look through a drawer in a filing cabinet, “Just this year we got to talking and she’s been generous enough to donate breakfast here every month. And recently she’s been working with us on a job training program at her bakery.”

Benny thinks back to Connors calling you a ‘bleeding heart’ and is glad he came here by himself.

“She didn’t mention anything about knowing Stuart lived here.”

David pulls a folder from the cabinet and thumbs through it, “Stuart is the type to not overshare, so that doesn’t surprise me.” He pauses to write something down on a piece of paper and hands it to Benny, “Here. This is his sister Noreen’s information. When he left, he was going to be staying with her for a while. Might still be there.”

Benny barely makes it to his car before calling the number that David gave him.

—-

“Wait, so you’re saying that Noreen, the Noreen that comes in here, is Stuart’s sister?”

It’s late in the day, near the time that you close up. You and Benny are sitting across from each other at the table near the window. It’s hard to believe what he’s telling you, that Stuart used to be a resident at the sober living facility, the one where David works; that Noreen is Stuart’s sister and somehow all these dots never got connected for you.

“She didn’t realize that you two were,” Benny pauses looking for the right word, “friends. She feels terrible that you didn’t know he had moved out of the state and were worried. She said he’s doing well.”

You’re quiet for a moment, trying to take in everything Benny has been telling you. It’s a lot to process, considering you had been preparing yourself to hear bad news. You can feel your eyes fuzzy with a few tears and feel a little embarrassed to be getting so emotional over the good news.

“It’s such a relief to know that he’s doing okay.” You feel a tear slide down your cheek and quickly brush it away hoping that Benny didn’t see it.

Benny can tell you’re trying to keep yourself from crying and he wants to tell you that it’s okay, that there wouldn’t be any judgment from him. He has the overwhelming urge to wrap his arms around you, but he knows it would be wildly inappropriate. He feels awkward sitting here, looking around, trying to figure out what he should say.

“I like the Christmas decorations you have up.” It’s lame and he knows it, but it seems better than freaking you out with a hug. You smile at him and that feels reassuring.

“You do?” You look over at Benny, nodding his head, “I know it makes me basic, but I love Christmas. The lights, the decorations, the movies, the music. Expect to see a lot of green and red frosted donuts until December 31st.”

Benny laughs, “I’m looking forward to it.” He looks at his watch and starts to get up, “I should probably leave, so you can close up.”

You get up and follow Benny to the door, you put your hand on Benny’s forearm to stop him for a second and he feels a little spark through this jacket.

“Thank you, again, for everything.”

“I’m glad I could help. And that everything turned out okay.”

You’re not sure what it is that compels you to hug him, but you do. Maybe it’s the gentleness of his voice, or how he’s looking at you in a way he hasn’t before. It feels intimate and dreamy and it’s hard for you to recall the last time anyone has looked at you like that. It happens so fast that Benny barely has time to register what happened.

It hits him as he’s walking to his car–the delayed feeling of your arms around him. It strikes Benny that maybe there’s a chance you like him, that maybe you’re both kind of stupid and clumsy, and afraid to ask the other one out. There’s the realization that one of you will have to make the first move or it will go on like this forever. That he will see you every few months at your job, that he’ll get a free donut occasionally. It’s not enough for Benny and he knows that he can’t be stupid about this much longer.

—-

It’s the last piss test party of the year–the week before Christmas. The concept is idiotic–sure it made sense at one point when Benny wasn’t wading into the deep end of forty. Going to a cheap hotel to get drunk and high, have sex with women that Nick found God knows where. It was never appealing to Benny but he used to understand the idea of celebrating after your mandatory drug test. Now he usually just sits, drinks a beer or two, and tries to avoid contact with everyone. There’s something especially depressing about it during this time of year.

Benny’s spent the last few days mulling over the best way to ask you out. He regrets not asking you when he was giving you the news about Stuart. Although there’s a part of him that thinks maybe you would have felt obligated to say yes given the circumstances. He thinks about asking you tonight, if they end up there, but he doesn’t want to do it in front of the guys because you might feel obligated then too, maybe even feeling sorry for him and not wanting to embarrass him in front of everyone by saying no. If you say yes, he wants it to be because you actually mean it, he doesn’t want there to be any room for doubt.

His decision is made for him, because when they get to Glazy for You, you aren’t there. Benny can’t remember if there’s ever been a time when you haven’t been there, behind the counter, greeting him warmly. It’s a little bit of a shock to his system to see a middle-aged man in a goofy Christmas sweater in your place. Benny’s good at thinking up doomsday scenarios and imagines one in which you’re trying to avoid him, so you no longer work this early in the morning. But then he thinks of when you hugged him and that even though it was quick, it was like your touch had gone directly to his heart. He doesn’t stay much longer, opting to go home, lay in his bed, and try to figure out what he’s going to do.

—-

You used to hate working during the holidays. Maybe it’s because you were working for other people and not yourself. Maybe it was because the work you were doing felt unimportant and people expected you to care even when everything else around you was winding down. Five years ago the thought of working on Christmas Eve would have made you want to walk into traffic. Now it feels different, like maybe you’re contributing to the holiday experience versus missing out on it entirely. You’ve always loved Christmas, but Christmas Eve is your favorite day of the year. It just feels more special somehow. There’s anticipation and excitement in the air. It’s possible it’s a product of all the Christmas movies you’ve watched over the years where there’s the idea that anything seems possible on this day. There’s something about the idea of your life changing for the better, surrounded by twinkle lights and ornaments that you find very appealing.

The morning is kind of slow–you spend most of it watching holiday episodes of tv shows on your phone. Around 11am you start cleaning up–taking trays out of cases, boxing up the donuts that are left to drop off at the comic book shop next door. You’re looking forward to going home and laying on the couch the rest of the day, queuing up your standard Christmas Eve movies. You’re ready to watch Scrooged and feel abnormally homesick, but then put on Christmas Vacation and remember why it’s never a good idea to spend Christmas with your entire family.

You’re in the back when you hear the bell on the door jingle, letting you know someone is out front. You consider just staying where you are, pretending no one is here so you can wrap up your day. You don’t want to have to tell anyone that you can’t help them with their donut emergency–getting yelled at on Christmas Eve is not something you’ve prepared yourself for today. So it’s a pleasant surprise when you make your way back out to the front and you see Benny.

“Hey, this is a—hi.” You’re not sure why you’re suddenly unable to put together a decent sentence.

Benny rubs the back of his neck with his hand, “Is this a bad time?”

“No. No, well. I mean, unless you were looking for a few dozen donuts. Then it definitely is.”

Benny smiles, “Actually, I, um, was,” he pauses and tries to collect himself, he can suddenly feel his heart beating in his ears, “I wanted to ask you out. On a date.” The feeling has spread to his skull.

When he says it, it’s almost like the words traveled through your brain and you can’t comprehend what’s actually happening. Benny, the guy you’ve been harboring your fragile middle school crush on, is here asking you out. It makes little, if any sense to you.

“Are you just trying to get more free donuts?”

Benny shakes his head no, “I promise I’m not.”

You’re quiet as you consider what he’s asked–trying to reprocess the information in your mind so that it makes sense. When all the words are finally in place and you repeat them in your mind, you feel some of those flowers that you’d walled up in your stomach starting to push through the cracks.

“Yeah, okay.” You grab a business card from the counter, write your number on the back, and hand it to Benny.

Benny’s not sure he’s ever heard anything better than yeah, okay in his life, it’s like a bolt of lightning right to his core. He puts the card with your number in the chest pocket of his jacket, the safest place he can think of.

“Great. Amazing.” Benny laughs nervously. “I need to get back to work. I’ll text you.”

“Okay. Well, have a good Christmas, Benny.”

“You too.”

Benny gives his standard small wave as he leaves and you lock the door after him. When he’s out of sight you let out a squeal and excitedly dance in place. Your phone vibrating in your back pocket interrupts you mid-happy dance.

Hey, it’s Benny. Are you free for dinner on the 27th at 7?

Benny watches dots appear and then disappear on his phone. It feels a little bit like torture as he sits in his truck waiting for you to respond.

Dinner on the 27th at 7 sounds great

Benny releases a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, Let me think of a place and I’ll text you the address

Sounds good. And you meant Dec 27th right?

Benny laughs to himself, Yes dec 27. I’m not going to wait until jan to take you to dinner

Just making sure 🙂

You read his last text at least ten more times before finally going back into the kitchen like you had intended. Each time you read it, there’s a sensation in your stomach like bricks dissolving and flowers blooming again.

—-

Benny texts you on the morning of the 26th with a restaurant name and an address. You already have the sense that he’s different, the type of person who has follow-through. You try to temper your excitement about dinner with him, not wanting to do that thing you sometimes do where you make something out to be more than it is. You keep telling yourself that it’s just dinner, nothing more. But as you pull up to the restaurant a few minutes late and see Benny standing outside, looking nervous in dark denim and a green flannel, you let yourself think that maybe it could be a little more than just dinner.

“Sorry I’m a little late, I hope you weren’t waiting long?”

Benny smiles when he sees you standing in front of him, “I just got here a few minutes ago.”

It’s a lie; the last one he’ll tell tonight; but he doesn’t want you to know that he was so amped up about this evening that he got to the restaurant thirty minutes early. On the way in, when you pass in front of him, your perfume delicately floats by him. It’s earthy, but slightly sweet, with cinnamon and vanilla blending neatly in–he’s sure it’s the most beautiful thing that he’s ever smelled.

It’s a French restaurant, one that you’ve never been to before, but it’s cozy and still in the Christmas spirit. There are multicolored lights strung up and silver tinsel hanging from the ceiling.

“Have you been here before?” Looking at Benny from across the table and you can see flecks of silver in his facial hair catching the light of the candle on the table.

“My sister and her husband had their tenth anniversary party here last year. Most of my restaurant choices come from wherever she has an anniversary party.”

You laugh, “Nice. Do you just have the one sister?”

Benny has just the one sister, you learn, among other things. You find talking to Benny is easy, he doesn’t give one word answers to questions like some men you’ve gone out with. Where trying to get to know them is like trying to get to know a slab of pavement. He’s funnier than you thought, something that you didn’t expect, but is a nice surprise.

“Did you always want to be a detective?”

Benny butters a piece of bread, “To be honest, the only thing I wanted to be growing up was a magician. I guess I saw one too many David Copperfield specials as a kid.”

You start laughing, “Do you know any magic tricks?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know. What about you?”

“I don’t know any, no.” You shrug jokingly as Benny laughs. “But, yeah, I guess I’m doing what I’ve always wanted to be doing. I’m lucky that things have worked out how they have.”

Benny’s curious now, “You didn’t always work in a bakery?”

“Nope. I actually used to work in tech. It’s kind of a long story.”

“Well, I’m not in any hurry to end the evening.”

There’s something about Benny that puts you at ease, that makes you comfortable enough to want to open up to him. Something that you would never normally consider doing on a first date. You don’t feel the need to downplay that you made a lot of money when a company you worked for in New York was bought out. He doesn’t flinch when you tell him that the reason you moved to California was because of your now ex-husband. He tells you about his own divorce and for the first time in a long time you don’t feel so unlike yourself on a first date. It doesn’t feel scary telling him that you felt insignificant in your own life because of your work and your marriage. That every conversation with your husband made you feel like a burden.There’s a moment when you start to apologize, out of habit, but he stops you. He smiles when you say that the divorce was the best thing to happen to you because it–and you hate to say it like this–gave you your power back.

“I always wanted to own my own business and I love donuts, so when the divorce happened, I just said fuck it, and went for it. Just threw myself into it.”

“I’m glad you did, I don’t know where else I’d get an apple fritter that good. And for free.”

“Yeah, about that.” You smile playfully, “I’m going to have to start charging you before you put me out of business.”

Benny makes a show of looking at his watch, pretending to want to leave, “I guess we should probably call it an evening then?”

He likes the way you laugh, how it’s kind of loud and fills the room. It makes him feel good, to hear you laugh, to see you smile; like he’s responsible for some bit of happiness you’re experiencing.

“See, I knew this was a scam.”

As the waiter clears the table and they wait for the check, Benny asks you what your favorite donut is.

You don’t even have to think about it, “Definitely a maple bar.”

Benny watches as your eyes light up, telling him how you first had one when you spent the summer between fifth and sixth grade visiting your aunt in Seattle. He listens to you describe how your mom was, in the nicest terms you can find, an extreme dieter, who tried her best to pass all of her food issues down to you, and never let donuts in the house. But your aunt didn’t care and the first thing she did once she would pick you up from the airport was take you to her favorite bakery. It was the highlight of every summer after that until you graduated high school. It was the first donut you learned how to make because on the east coast they’re hard to find. You laugh when you say the best part of moving to the west coast is that every donut place has maple bars, but you’d like to think that yours are the best. Benny can’t help but think it’s cute.

Benny doesn’t want the night to end; he knows that you took a cab to the restaurant so he offers to drive you home. You try not to sound too eager in accepting his offer, but fail.

“Yeah, I’d love that.”

You ask him if he wants you to put your address into google maps for directions, but he doesn’t need them. Benny spends so much time driving all over the city that he knows every street, every highway, every interstate. The map exists in his head; he can get anywhere without really having to think about it. Benny drives you through some unfamiliar, but beautiful neighborhoods. The homes are still decorated and lit up, it’s like driving through the set of a Christmas movie–the only thing missing is snow.

You ask him more about his job, the guys he works with. You like hearing the stories that Benny has about them. You can tell by the way he talks about him, that he’s closest with Connors. You finally learn everyone’s first names and how Benny got his nickname–which you had previously googled out of curiosity. You ask if it bothers him to be called a drunk.

“Knowing the shit they all get into, not really.”

He says that it doesn’t matter what they call him because he knows that in any situation they’ll have his back and he’ll have theirs. That’s what he cares about.

When he pulls up to your house; a small, one-story home, string lights along the frame and around the windows; it looks exactly like he’d imagined. You both sit quietly for a few minutes unsure what to do next.

Eventually you unbuckle your seatbelt, “I had a really good time tonight, Benny.”

“Me too. Come on, I’ll walk you to your door.” he looks over at you, “protect and serve, you know.” Benny knows it’s a dumb joke, but you laugh anyway.

When you get to the top of your steps, you find it hard to say goodbye. His face is illuminated by the Christmas lights and you can tell he doesn’t want to say goodbye either. You start to say something, you’re not even sure what, but no words come out because Benny’s mouth is on yours, his hands gently cradling your face. His lips are soft and you can feel the warmth of his tongue asking for permission. You drop your keys onto the porch and pull him closer to you by his belt loops.

It feels like hours have passed when Benny finally pulls away, “Sorry. I’ve been wanting to do that for months.”

You rest your hands on his chest, “Next time,” you gently tug on his shirt collar, “don’t wait so long.”

Benny smiles as he watches you crouch down to pick up the keys you dropped. When you stand back up, he reaches towards your face, his fingers grazing behind your ear, “Hold on, you have something in your—” Benny sweeps his fingers against your hair and when he brings his hand in front of you, he’s holding a small, folded piece of paper.

You take it from him, unfolding it. When you see the words ‘what are you doing for new years?’ written down you start grinning, “So you do still know some magic tricks.”

Benny places his hand on your neck, his thumb stroking your cheek, “A few.”

#benny magalon x reader #benny magalon x f!reader #benny borracho magalon x reader #benny borracho magalon x f!reader #borracho magalon x reader #den of thieves fic #christmas fic #holiday fic #this christmas fic

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sweaterkittensahoy · 6 months

Note

hey! if you’re still doing prompts—i saw how you said that you take on any ships sort of like a challenge and everything so may i offer you this incredible crackship: douglass/harding in which harding catches him with his ridiculous amount of rubbers and teaches him how to actually use it right

ignore this if u want, or change the ship if u prefer :)

[This grew feelings. I blame feelings.]

Douglass is on his third "welcome back from the dead" whiskey when Colonel Harding comes up to him at the bar and puts a hand on his shoulder. "Sir," Douglass greets.

"How you feeling, Douglass?" Harding asks. He's got a whiskey in his own hand, his cigar in the same hand. His hand lingers for another moment on Douglass's shoulder, then he takes his hand away so he can retrieve his cigar and take a drag.

"Some bumps and bruises," Douglass says, "but the cuts are the worst of it, Sir."

Harding nods. "Good. Glad to hear it. He leans a little closer, his shoulder brushing Douglass's for a moment. "I do have a question regarding your personal effects, though."

"What's that, Sir?" Douglass asks.

"Why in the hell do you have so many goddamn prophylactics in your footlocker?"

Douglass snorts whiskey up his nose. Harding gives him one sharp smack on the back as he wheezes. His vision and airways clear after a couple of moments, and he realizes they have an audience. Crosby and Blakely and Hambone and a few others. "Well, Sir," he says, and flashes Harding his most winning smile, "it's been awhile since I had leave."

The boys laugh, and Harding smirks as he sips his whiskey. "For fuck's sake, Douglass, pick a pretty face and get your dick wet before we can float your damn footlocker back to the States after the war."

Douglass leads the laughter this time. "Yes, Sir," he says. "If that's an order, I'll see if I can't trick Blakely right here into a little something tonight."

"I'm still not over the clap you gave me last time," Blakely retorts, which causes even more laughing.

"Hell, I assumed he just never wears a rubber because the social disease eats through 'em before he even gets started," Hambone adds.

As the boys keep roasting Douglass, he cuts a quick look to Harding, who takes another sip of his whiskey, then taps his glass three times. Douglass nods once, and Harding steps back away, giving them their space to celebrate again.

"I don't know how you kept laughing like that after the Colonel busted you for those rubbers," Crosby says a few minutes later. "I think I'd have drowned myself in my drink."

"That's where you and I are different, Croz," Douglass says, giving Crosby's a little shake. "I glory in being a pervert. You prefer to keep it between you and the missus," he waits for Crosby to take a sip of his drink before he adds, "And Bubbles."

Crosby spits out his drink. "He told?" he hisses.

Douglass stares. "No!" he says. He covers his mouth. "Holy shit, really?"

"Oh, god," Crosby says.

"Hey, look, first of all, you know no one fucking cares, right?" Douglass asks. "Wait. I remembered who I'm talking to. So, okay, first of all, Croz, no one fucking cares. We're the fuckingest and suckingest base in the whole fucking ETO. But also, good for you. And Jean. And Bubbles, honestly. If it works, it works."

"I have to go throw myself into an engine," Crosby mutters, putting his hands over his face. "We're gonna–Jean wants to tell her family first, so there's no surprises."

"What? Like a blonde-haired, blue-eyed Crosby?"

Crosby stares at him through his fingers. Douglass heaves a huge sigh. "Okay, that's a yes. So, look, I'm gonna go get your man to come and talk you down from this ledge, and then I'm gonna shut my fucking mouth until the two of you say a fucking word about it, got me?"

"You love gossip," Crosby says.

"Oh, I sure do," Douglass agrees. "But you're not the only one trying to figure out when to make a relationship official." Crosby glances at Blakely, which makes Douglass snort. "Nah. Love him like a brother." Crosby looks at Hambone. "Tried it. He bites harder than I like." Douglass watches as Crosby's eyes get impossibly wider.

"Wait," Crosby whispers. "The Colonel and your foot locker and–"

"Yup," Douglass says, and it's nice to say it to someone, even if Crosby looks like he wants to crawl under the table and never talk to a human being ever again. "So, I know what you're up to, and you know what I'm up to, and we'll both keep our mouths shut until otherwise notified, yeah?"

"Yeah,' Crosby says. He clears his throat and sits up straight, dropping his hands from his face. "I mean, yeah. Obviously. You can trust me."

"I know," Douglass replies. It's true. Crosby's an overthinker, but he only talks too much about his own shit, not anyone else's. "Feel free to tell Bubbles if you want. Only seems fair."

"So, you're gonna tell–" Crosby presses his fingers to his mouth. "It's fine," he says after a moment. "I trust you, too."

"Great." Douglass stands and gives Crosby a grin, then walks over to Bubbles, who's caught in a conversation with a couple other navigators. Douglass doesn't know how the man is managing not to be at Crosby's right arm right now, but he supposes everyone's different when they witness a resurrection. "Crosby needs to talk to you, and for the record, I apologize if he's a little incoherent."

Bubbles gives him a look but doesn't ask, just walks over to Crosby. Douglass watches as Crosby whispers in Bubbles's ear, then watches Bubbles react without words, simply staring like Crosby must be crazy. Crosby nods sharply, and Bubbles laughs, then shrugs, then whispers something back to Crosby that has him laughing, too.

Yeah, Douglass thinks as he slips out the door of the officer's club, those two and Jean will do just fine.

He takes his time walking to his destination. He's going to be incredibly early when he gets there no matter, but it feels good to have the air on his face after what he's been through. The fear when they were hit, the crash, the sitting around and waiting for someone who could help them. Then coming back and finding out everyone had thought he'd died. Which, he doesn't blame them for assuming. Everyone saw them losing altitude in a fire fight. He'd have assumed the same.

But still.

He looks up at the sky, watching the patchy clouds move for a few seconds before he breathes out hard and looks towards his destination. It's Chick's hut, set a few yards behind the control tower. The lights are on, and Chick's outside, leaning next to the door and staring at the sky like Douglass just was. Douglass gives a low whistle, and Chick meets his gaze. He's mostly done with his cigar, but the ember is still bright on the end, and it shows him the upturned corner of Chick's mouth.

"I said thirty minutes," Chick greets.

"Didn't want to wait," Douglass replies. He doesn't stop walking until he can feel the warmth of Chick's body. He's usually a little more careful even though no one ever wanders this way at this time of day. Any possible interest in fucking on, in, or near the control tower is immediately doused by the fact that the CO's hut is within hearing distance.

Chick takes the last drag of his cigar, and Douglass goes up on his toes, lifting his chin and opening his mouth. Chick holds his chin as he breathes the smoke against his lips, and Douglass feels wild and settled in equal measure. "Come on," Chick says, then just barely touches their mouths together.

Douglass wants to grab him by his blouse and hold him still while he kisses him until neither of them remember their names. But he remembers their ranks, so he lets Chick open the door and gesture him inside.

Chick's hut is as classically masculine as he is. A leather couch and chair in front of the wood stove. Simple, dark green curtains on the windows. A small table and two wooden chairs bought from a craftsman in the village next to a low bookcase full of novels and classics. The bed–an actual, real bed–done up in military green with a proper nightstand and dresser but tucked behind a wooden privacy screen that matches the table and chairs. His footlocker acts as the coffee table in front of the couch. There's a single bulb lighting up the whole hut from the middle, but there's also a standing lamp in one corner, angled to reflect the most light from the rafters of the hut, brightening the whole space.

"I thought about this," Douglass says as he looks around the space and notices the changes from just the last few days. There's clean laundry on one of the wooden chairs, and a brand new book on the footlocker. It has a bookmark in it. Chick hasn't gotten very far.

"Thought about what?" Chick asks. He walks over to the bookcase. The top of it also serves as a small bar area. He opens the whiskey and pours a double-shot into two glasses, then carries them over to Douglass.

"This," Douglass says, taking the glass with a nod. "The couch. The fire. Your books." He waggles his eyebrows at Chick. "Your bed."

Chick snorts. "Cheeky."

Douglass purses his lips in a kiss. "You've never complained. Not in here, at least."

Chick gives Douglass a considering look, then steps in close. "You were thinking of my quarters while you were crashing?" he asks.

"Yeah," Douglass says. They've never said much about their relationship, not even to each other. But he's nearly died and was then presumed dead, and then walked back in to a resurrection welcome, and well, that makes a man consider things. "I was scared shitless, and I wanted to think of something safe."

"Jim, goddamnit," Chick says, looking shattered. "You can't just say that sort of thing without warning." But there's a shaky smile at the corner of his mouth.

"Well, our navigator shouldn't have steered us into a fucking tree, but here I am," Douglass replies, and the surprised laugh from Chick makes him feel good.

Chick holds up his glass. "To making it back," he says. "I'm fucking glad."

"Me, too," Douglass agrees, and they tap their glasses together. He takes a sip of the whiskey, then steps forward so he can wrap an arm around Chick's waist. "Now," he says, "let's talk about why you know how many rubbers are in my foot locker."

"I do the final sign off on the inventory slips," Chick says. "I don't usually even read them. Kidd signs off before me, and I know he does. I'm just the final bit of red tape to get them sent. But…" He pauses for a long moment, but he doesn't look away from Douglass. Douglass doesn't look away from him. "I know some things about you, but I wondered what I was about to miss. So, I read it."

Douglass can't help his chuckle. "And there they were. 200 rubbers."

Chick grins, wide and pleased, the way Douglass always tries to make him grin when they're together. "204, actually."

Douglass throws his head back and laughs. Chick cups the back of his neck like he doesn't want him to get too far away. "They counted?" he says.

"Wouldn't want anyone to think we stole your rubbers," Chick replies. He leans down and kisses Douglass's Adam's apple.

Douglass shivers and feels his knees go weak. "Chick," he whispers. Chick mouths his Adam's apple, and Douglass nearly drops his glass. "Fuck." A dragging kiss from his Adam's apple up his throat, across the underside of his chin, then onto his mouth. Douglass's whole body goes tight and wild, and then Chick slips his tongue into Douglass's mouth, and a hint of cigar smoke comes with it, and it's all Douglass can do not to tumble to the floor.

Chick pulls away, but he keeps his hand on the back of Douglass's head. "Drink your whiskey. I'm taking you to bed."

Douglass nods, lets out a shaky breath, and slams his drink. He wouldn't usually. Chick's personal preference is above and beyond anything in the officer's club, but Chick is staring at him like he plans to eat him alive, and Jesus Christ, he's fucking alive.

Chick throws back his own drink, then takes Douglass's glass and sets them both on the footlocker. He turns back to Douglass and reels him in by the belt, kissing him messy and desperate, his dick hard against Douglass's own through their trousers.

"Race you," Chick mumbles, and Douglass laughs as they shove each other away at the same time and see who ends up naked first. For all the difference in rank, it's the same amount of clothes, but Douglass has never actually beaten Chick at this silly game and doesn't mind that he loses now.

"Come here," Chick says, stepping back towards the couch. He sits and reaches for Douglass, pulling him onto his lap. "Let me check on you."

Douglass bites back the urge to say he's fine. He is, really, but they've been doing this awhile, and Chick is just the type to check on bumps and bruises. "I told you," he says because he can't be silent on the matter, "the worst of it is on my face."

Chick makes a considering sound and lightly touches the bruises on Douglass's ribs. He finds the ones on his legs, and his chest, the little knot on his shoulder where he'd slipped and jammed into the bomb site. When he presses, Douglass hisses, and Chick pulls him in so he can kiss where he's caused pain.

"Softie," Douglass murmurs against Chick's ear.

Chick smacks his hip, which makes Douglass laugh, and then he checks the rest of the bruises. Once he's satisfied Douglass is just fine, he grabs Douglass's ass in both hands and squeezes hard. "How do you want it?" he asks.

"How do you want it?" Douglass replies. Chick's fingers dig in, one finger just brushing his hole. Douglass arches forward and bites Chick's lower lip. Chick responds by smacking his hip again.

"I don't want to hurt you, but I want to give you whatever you want," Chick says, mouth pressed against Douglass's ear. "I always want to give you what you want."

Douglass groans and presses his lips against Chick's temple. "Fuck me," he says. "Fuck me so long and hard I feel fucking alive."

Chick holds Douglass's face in his hands and stares into his eyes for a long, unstoppable moment. "You're alive, Jim."

Douglass feels something tight and hot tie up in his chest, and all he can do is nod. Chick presses his thumbs to the corners of Douglass's mouth, and then the corners of his eyes, and then he drops his hands to Douglass's thighs just under his ass and stands up from the couch, Douglass held secure in his grip.

And the fear and terror and death wipe away, and he's Jim again. Chick's Jim. Because his parents call him James, and his friends call him Jimmy, and brothers' in arms call him Douglass. And it's Chick, only Chick who calls him Jim. And Chick's name is Neil, but it's not. Not to Jim. Who saw him in a London pub two days before Harding showed up as Thorpe's Abbot CO and said, "My name's Neil, but my call sign's Chick," and Douglass, bombardier to Blakely's pilot, had laughed that of all the men to meet that night, he'd met a fucking pilot.

Chick lays him on the bed and nuzzles his neck, then his chest, then his belly. He grips Jim's thighs hard before he pushes them open, and Jim arches his back at the way the touch goes through him.

Chick splays a hand wide on Jim's chest before reaching over to the side table. Jim touches Chick's jaw before he can move more and uses a single finger under his chin to lead him up to his mouth.

They share a shivery kiss, Jim cheating by licking the corner of Chick's mouth, which always drives him wild, and then Chick breaks aways. He comes back for one more, brief kiss, and then he actually turns his head like he has to or else he'll just kiss Jim again.

Jim tilts his chin upwards and smiles at the rafters in the ceiling. His skin is buzzing with being alive, and then Chick drops the open tin of Vaseline next to Jim's ribs, and he arches in anticipation of what's next.

Chick isn't coy. He rubs two fingers over Jim's hole in a rough caress, and then works both fingertips in at the same time. Jim gasps and grunts, then grabs tight at Chick's wrist before he can pull out. Chick grins, leaning down to kiss Jim's stomach, and then works his fingers in another inch.

"Fucking take me, Sir," Jim says, then laughs when Chick uses his free hand to drag his nails down Jim's thigh. "You're so fucking easy," Jim adds and pushes himself up with his arms. Chick shifts his weight and lifts his hand off Jim's thigh so can can wrap his arm around Jim's lower back and hold him in place for a hot, desperate kiss as he pushes his fingers in another inch.

Jim sees stars and grabs Chick's bicep. His other hand he uses to cup Chick's face and deepen their kiss.

They spend several minutes kissing, Chick methodically working his fingers deeper into Jack. When his fingertips press hard on Jim's prostate, he whines and falls back onto the bed. He clenches his muscles around Chick's fingers and groans loudly when Chick leans down to drag his stubble along Jim's dick.

"Please," Jim grits out, pulling at Chick's hair because he can cup his head and clench his fingers.

Chick chuckles and kisses Jim's slit. "Not enough for you?" His voice is a delicious rumble, low and vibrating.

But Jim's not easily swayed into admitting what he wants. "I've got 204 rubbers in my footlocker," he says. "I can find someone." He laughs and jerks when Chick rubs against his prostate with unquestionable intent, then pulls his fingers out with perfect roughness.

"Don't you dare," Chick growls.

Jim watches Chick scoop up Vaseline and grease up his dick. "Well, get on with it," he goads as the fact that he's alive sings across his nerves and Chick's sharp, threatening look of getting fucked into the ground heightens the feeling of it all.

Chick grabs Jim's hips and lifts him into his lap. He lets go of Jim's left hip for just enough time to line his dick up with Jim's hole, and then he pushes in, hissing through his teeth as Jim grunts and reaches out to grab Chick's forearms and keep him as close as possible as Chick starts to fuck him hard and deep and beautiful.

Jim pants as Chick fucks him, staring into his eyes as Chick refuses to look away. Jim feels taken apart in a same but different way as he was contemplating his mortality the day before in the fort. The adrenaline is the same. The want is different. Dropping to his death the day before, the want was to survive. Being fucked now, Chick leaning forward with his arms on either side of Jim's head, Jim wants to survive and survive and survive.

He groans, and it turns into a sound he's never made in his life. A combination of being alive and needing to know he's alive and feeling in every pore how alive he is. Chick sucks hard at his Adam's apple, then kisses his neck and his cheek and finally his mouth.

"Come on," Chick says into Jim's mouth. "Make a mess."

Jim grabs Chick's shoulders and holds on. He presses his hips upward and whines when Chick grabs his ass and holds him in place so his cock rubs over Chick's stomach again and again.

"Make a mess," Chick says again. "Make a mess, Jim."

He comes even as Chuck keeps fucking him at the same tempo. Relentless and perfect and devastating until he pushes his mouth against Jim's ear and comes.

Jim wraps an arm around Chick's head and holds him close. Chick's own hands press perfectly into Jim's hips as they pant into each other's ears.

"I thought–" Chick swallows loudly in JIm's ear.

"Me, too," Jim admits. He digs his nails into Chick's scalp and kisses his temple. "I…" he can't finish the thought, not when they're wrapped up so close.

Chick breathes in and out. He uses one hand to press Jim gently to the right so they can share a kiss, and as it happens, he pulls out. "Shh," he says when Jim whimpers at the loss.

"Stay. Stay," Jim says. Something he always wants to say but never has. But he survived his own death yesterday, so he feels like it's okay.

Chick kisses his mouth and his cheek and his collarbone. "Jim," he says.

"I love you," Jim blurts because it's been caught behind his ribs since he realized he was going to live. "I know we agreed this was a fuck and suck–"

"Hush," Chick replies and his kiss is gentle but certain. "Jesus, when I thought I'd lost you," he murmurs against Jim's mouth, then carefully brushes his thumbs over each of the cuts on Jim's face.

Jim stares at the rafters and breathes slow and deep. He rubs his hands up and down Chick's back. "Hambone puts those rubbers in my foot locker," Jim says. "He thinks I don't know it's him, but I saw him do it once. It makes him laugh."

"I don't fucking care," Chick says and presses kisses to Jim's chest and arms.

"It's been rough," Jim says, the closest he can come to admitting the war's fucking exhausting. "And it kept making him laugh."

Chick is taking over his entire line of sight suddenly, so close Jim can't see anything else. "I didn't think you had them to fuck around on me," he says. "If you'd be using them, there'd be less."

And Jim laughs, brash and loud and maybe a little uneven, but it's genuine, and it makes Chick smile at him. They kiss again, slow and easy. But Jim's never been the type who can let something land on soft ground, so when they pull apart, he gives Chick his brashest grin and says, "Hey, so did you know Crosby and Bubbles and Mrs. Jean Crosby are fucking?"

"You might have the worst pillow talk in the entire Air Army," Chick mutters, and Jim laughs and laughs and pulls him as close as he possibly can. When he calms down, Chick is smiling at him like he's wonderful, and Jim takes his chance. "Would you tell everyone about us?"

Chick pushes Jim's curls off his forehead. "Would you tell me you love me?" he asks.

"I love you," Jim answers instantly.

Chick kisses Jim on the mouth. "I love you," he replies. It's the first time they've ever said it, but it feels exactly right. Honest but sharp, a little mercenary even. "But at least let me have you all to myself for the rest of the night."

Jim laughs and presses his face into Chick's neck. "Okay," he says. "That feels fair."

#douglassharding #smut #mentioned crubbles #mentioned jeancrubbles #masters of the air #prompt fill #oh this one had a whole journey #james douglass #chick harding

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