#the hot chocolate making was an ordeal but it tastes good so that's all that matters

[lizziestudieshistory]

04.08.2023 - It's cold, raining, and I've been arguing with the bank all afternoon... So, I'm treating myself to a cosy evening with Evelina and an hot chocolate to make up for it!

Currently reading: Evelina by Frances Burney; The Book of Lost Tales Part Two by J.R.R. Tolkien

[blues824]

Continuing the TWST Boys Go to Reader's World??? headcanons, can I have the Third Years this time?

Reader is mentioned and only pronouns used are secondary pronouns. The amount of research going into this 😥😥

Trey Clover

Favorite Country/City: A lot of treats that he makes are from France, so I believe he would love being on the tasting side of the whole ordeal. Plus, candied violets (originally called violettes cristallisees) originate from there as well. As for his favorite city, it’s basic but it’s Paris. It’s the dessert capital of France, so yeah.

Favorite Cuisine/Dish: He is a bit of a connoisseur when it comes to multiple different cuisines, as people from all over have come to his family’s bakery. However, if he had to choose one, it would have to be Spanish cuisine. He just strikes me as the type. French food would come in second, but we are going by entrees and not desserts.

Favorite Drink: I feel like he would be a bit tired of tea, and coffee goes well with a lot of sweets but sometimes he wants something else. So, hot chocolate is a great go-to. Plus, you can spike it with bourbon or rum and many other things, and he prefers bourbon.

Favorite Souvenir: A cognac that he has used to cook multiple different things. He picked it up at a small shop in France, and the brandy is great for making sauces and for deglazing a pan. He rarely drinks it, but it’s of great quality.

Favorite Singers/Songs: He is an old soul, and with that being said, he likes older music. I feel like he would like songs in different languages as well. So, I think he would like the song Nunca es Suficiente, the Natalia Lafourcade version.

Favorite Movie: He doesn’t have a favorite movie, but rather favorite shows. He loves Nailed It!, Zumbo’s Just Desserts, Sugar Rush, but most importantly: The Great British Baking Show.

Cater Diamond

Favorite Country/City: This guy is hard because he would want to go absolutely everywhere and he would love everywhere he travels to. However, he would say that he loved Japan the most, as the people were very friendly and it was the first time he actually tried hard to learn the language so that he could be respectful.

Favorite Cuisine/Dish: His canonical favorite food is spicy ramen, so I would say Japanese cuisine would be his favorite. But, he has a more diverse taste than just that, so he would probably like Eastern Asian cuisine as a whole. It has a lot of savory and spicy foods that he absolutely loves.

Favorite Drink: He is also a margarita lover, and even though a lot of them are sweet, they are still delicious. However, he orders salt rather than sugar on the rim of the cup because he doesn’t want extra sweetness from sugar.

Favorite Souvenir: He picked up a pair of chopsticks that he always uses. He has finally got chopstick etiquette down, and the set he purchased at a souvenir shop served as a reminder of his hard work.

Favorite Singers/Songs: He is so into both K-Pop and J-Pop that it’s not even funny. He is one of those fans that will tear you up if you didn’t know the words, their meaning, who all the members in the specific group are, etc.

Favorite Movie: I had no idea he was into skateboarding, so I have to say that his favorite movie is Dogtown and Z-Boys. It’s a documentary-type film about the Zephyr skateboard team who helped develop modern skateboarding in the ‘70’s.

Leona Kingscholar

Favorite Country/City: He is not one to travel voluntarily, so you would have to drag him places. He does want to spoil you, so he will (hesitantly) go along with you. If he had to choose a favorite, it would be Sudan. He doesn’t have a favorite city, but rather a favorite state: the River Nile state. It holds the Meroë Pyramids, and he thought it was pretty cool that Sudan has the most pyramids in the world.

Favorite Cuisine: Pretty far from Sudan, but Argentinian food would be his favorite. They are known for having the best beef, and Leona loves having a good steak. The only downside is that it’s usually served with a few veggies or a chimichurri sauce composed of vegetables.

Favorite Drink: He doesn’t really care, so I would think that he likes beer. He strikes me as the type to have a glass bottle of beer that he holds nearer to his hip; the traditional uncle (Unca) pose.

Favorite Souvenir: When he first went to Sudan, he dressed to fit along with local traditions. He wore a jalabiya in order to maintain modesty, and he actually liked it and hung it in his closet for the next time he visited a country that prefers modesty.

Favorite Singers/Songs: It started as him getting into his edgy phase, but he did not want to go emo. He prefers rock, specifically AC/DC. His favorite song is Highway to Hell.

Favorite Movie: He usually falls asleep during every movie he watches. However, he did like the movie Silence of the Lambs. The way it left him disturbed and on-guard as well as made him want to stay awake is the reason why he would like such a gruesome movie.

Vil Schoenheit

Favorite Country/City: Cologne, Germany. I’ve always wanted to visit, and it was one of my hyperfixations for a while, but that’s besides the point. The point is that Vil strives for perfection. Part of that is smelling great. Surprise, surprise: cologne originates from Cologne. However, the Cologne Cathedral was beautiful as well.

Favorite Cuisine: I feel like he would like Japanese food as his go-to, as a lot of their food is a lot healthier than others and he strives to be healthy. However, he would like Greek food if he were just going off of personal preference. Briam would probably be his favorite dish.

Favorite Drink: Do smoothies count as food or drinks? People have them for breakfast as they have fruits and veggies, but you ‘drink’ a smoothie. Anyways, his favorite alcoholic drink would be a martini. He is classy and elegant, just like the drink.

Favorite Souvenir: A piece of the Berlin Wall. The history behind it fascinated Vil, and he considers it his most prized souvenir.

Favorite Singers/Songs: Lovefool by Postmodern Jukebox (feat. Haley Reinhart). He heard it from a co-star, and he liked it. Yes, he continues his career in your world.

Favorite Movie: Breakfast at Tiffany’s, as I believe that he loves Audrey Hepburn’s acting in that movie. He also likes Gentlemen Prefer Blondes because of Marilyn Monroe and her iconic character in that movie.

Rook Hunt

Favorite Country/City: The city of love, the city of lights, Paris. As much as I didn’t want to do such a basic answer, he is a connoisseur of beauty, and Paris at night is a sight to behold. Plus, he speaks French, so why not go to the motherland of the French language?

Favorite Cuisine: His favorite food is canonically liver pâté, so I believe he would love French cuisine the most. However, I would say that Danish cuisine comes second, as they have something similar (a dish that is derived from liver pâté: leverpostej).

Favorite Drink: A French 75 goes a long way with this man. He loves a champagne cocktail. They are typically for celebrations, and Rook just wishes to celebrate life and beauty as a whole. No, he’s not an alcoholic, but when he feels content and exceedingly happy he won’t hesitate in indulging himself with one glass.

Favorite Souvenir: A lavender perfume. He loves how relaxing the smell is.

Favorite Singers/Songs: His favorite song is Love Like You, by Caleb Hyles. Look at the lyrics, and you will see why lol.

Favorite Movie: The Notebook, as it’s a classic film filled with romance. You also cannot tell me that this man is not looking for the Allie to his Noah. He wants a romance story in his life, and that’s why he travels so much.

Idia Shroud

Favorite Country/City: I can’t decide between Greece and Japan, so I will say that they are tied on Idia’s list. The gamer boy doesn’t really go outside, but when he traveled to these places he absolutely loved it. He’s kind of simple, where he liked the capitals Athens and Tokyo the most.

Favorite Cuisine: His favorite food is just listed as ‘sweets’, and he hates raw fish. We are not going by desserts, but rather overall food, and luckily fish can be replaced by protein alternatives. Plus, the fish can be cooked. That being said, Chinese food would be his favorite. He loves the dragon’s beard candy.

Favorite Drink: He rarely ever drinks alcoholic drinks, as he is already very weak in build (remember his family’s curse?). Adding alcohol to the mix would be a disaster. However, he might like a light beer.

Favorite Souvenir: He likes board games, and while he was in Greece he learned to play Tavli, or Backgammon, and he purchased a board so that he could continue to play it with opponents.

Favorite Singers/Songs: He likes anime intros and outros, and like Cater he is very big on K-Pop and J-Pop, but also C-Pop and T-Pop. His favorite song is 夜に駆ける(Yoru ni Kakeru), by YOASOBI.

Favorite Movie: Your Name, as the two travel just to meet each other, but they have to get used to their new environments first.

Malleus Draconia

Favorite Country/City: He loves Denmark’s castles, but specifically the Rosenborg Castle in Copenhagen. It houses the Danish Crown Jewels as well as the Coronation Robe, and the history behind each item fascinated the draconian prince. The Notre Dame Cathedral in France comes in second for its gargoyles.

Favorite Cuisine: Again, we go by overall cuisine rather than the desserts (otherwise he would choose the cuisines that contributed to ice cream’s existence). He actually can’t choose a favorite, as all is better than Lilia’s cooking. He does have a least favorite, and it’s modern American food. His favorite type of food is street food, as it really allows him to surround himself with the locals and just be normal.

Favorite Drink: He doesn’t believe alcohol is necessary to have fun, but he will indulge himself from time to time. His favorite is a cocktail called a ‘Corpse Reviver’. It’s a morbid name, but it’s the one thing that magic can’t do. He likes when red food coloring is added, as it makes his tongue red.

Favorite Souvenir: Bro probably has enough money to actually purchase the Danish Crown Jewels as well as the English Crown Jewels tbh. Anyways, he actually treasures a book he picked up called ‘Once Upon a Broken Heart’. He was unaware that it was the first book of a sequel series, so he purchased the rest as well as the original series, ‘Caraval’.

Favorite Singers/Songs: His talent is listed as ‘stringed instruments’, but his relent would go beyond just the typical instruments you think of. Is an electric guitar not a stringed instrument? This man is in a 5 Finger Death Punch phase, favorite song being Wrong Side of Heaven.

Favorite Movie: He loves Sleeping Beauty, mostly because of that scene with Aurora and Prince Phillip where they dance together in the forest. Also, he related to Maleficent because she was not invited to see the princess.

Lilia Vanrouge

Favorite Country/City: His hobby is traveling alone, and I feel like he wouldn’t have a favorite location. He has been everywhere, and the only place he gravitated towards was Brazil. He went to that year’s Carnaval celebration and he actually really liked it. The parade floats were big and beautiful, there were many lights; it was just fun in general. The city of São Paulo comes to mind, as it’s the biggest city by population.

Favorite Cuisine: Part of why he likes Brazil is the food. Tomatoes originate from South America, and Brazil’s dishes hit different (I don’t think I’ve been to an authentic Brazilian food place, but from what I can see and from what I’ve tasted, I love it).

Favorite Drink: In the Trivia section of his Wiki page, it says that he likes potions that are said to taste bitter by everyone else. That being said, I feel like this would transfer to alcoholic drinks, so his favorite drink might be a negroni. It’s a bit bitter, so it suits his taste.

Favorite Souvenir: He picked up some spices in his travels to “better” his cooking (it didn’t help at all; his cooking still sucks even if he’s seen other people do the dishes he's trying to make).

Favorite Singers/Songs: He is what boomers would call “hip and trendy”, so he likes whatever is popular at the moment. Yes, this includes the meme songs that might go viral on TikTok, Instagram, and YT Shorts. At the time of writing this, his favorite song would be Paint the Town Red, by Doja Cat.

Favorite Movie: He liked the movie Crimson Peak. The costumes as well as the acting were amazing, and he loves learning about the Victorian Era and how both England and the United States were developing during the industrial era.

[poorks]

If you're up for a quick story prompt, how about a tomboy growing massive tits and a huge belly?

She was standing in the back of the party, not that interested in chatting and socializing, too busy being too cool for the crowd. Someone she’s never seen before offers her an edible that looks like white chocolate candy in the shape of a milk bottle, and fuck it, she goes for it. It tastes sweet and milky like candy, so good that she has to have more. Another one, then a third one, they taste so good the high must be incredible when they kick in. A warm tingle runs through her, and she goes into the party to let the trip come.

It must be the high, because among the crowd she felt so hot. Her normally flat chest was filled out against her tank top, bouncing as she walked, swelling with every bounce in a way that made her actually want to dance. She wanted to watch and feel her knockers heft and stretch her poor tank top.

Their size distracted her from even noticing her belly peeking out from over her jeans, pushing her tits up to make room for itself, swelling and straining until the button was too much to bear. She stumbled, losing her balance under all this weight and mass throwing her off, into the first available bedroom to relieve the rapidly increasing pressure on her middle.

She threw herself back on the bed ti try to reach around to her pants button. Her arms cradled her tits, desperately reaching around her creaking belly as her pants hem crept out of her reach. Until, finally, they gave out on their own and the button shot across the room. The freedom made her moan in relief, and she scrambled to skip the jeans off so she never had to feel so tight again. Sitting up again was an ordeal, trying to counterbalance her weight to sit back up. Her tank top was practically a bra, covering just enough of her heavy and round breasts to be decent, though their curvature obscured some of her vision. Her belly reached out far enough to rest in her thighs, all still swelling in warm pulses that left her pleasantly numb and tingly in bliss.

She couldn’t wait to get back out on the dance floor.

[ducknotinarow]

87 Rasey - [☕] our muses make hot chocolate together

| SEND AN EMOJI FOR A STARTER ! ↳ winter season & holiday based

Raphael went right into panic mode when Casey fell into that cold water, grumbling under his breath about the cheap shot that landed the guy into the freezing water. Not hearing about any word of protest from Casey as he lead them back to the lair. Casey was soaked through to the bone as he the turtle got them to sit back on the couch. Finger aimed at them "stay put!" he was fast to demand not in the mood to listen to any more protest that he would be fine. Okay sure Casey wasn't well a turtle so he wasn't in as much risk as say himself had he fallen into the icy cold water. Even more seeing how the surface has iced over. Raph wasn't sure if it was luck that the ice was thin so he broke through it? Or if if been better if Casey hit his head on solid ice instead.

He kept weighing the option back and forth on that thought alone allow a few different ones to pop in as he made his way around the lair grabbing at anything needs he could get his brain to strangle out knowing would be needed. Striping blankets off his mattress debating hoe petty he wanted to be about the use of his brothers blankets as well. Because part of the turtle didn't wants his brothers scent on his boyfriend or the reverse either. But Casey was a big guy. He swallowed the pride and jealousy they built up like bile in the back of his throat and snag those blankets as well as he made his way back to Casey in a sudden hurry. Mindful to throw his bedding on to Casey first. The perfect solution to this whole ordeal in his mind because his scent would be all of Casey instead and Casey warmth would get nicely trapped and sealed thanks to the pile up.

Which shouldn't be his worry in the slightest right now as he went about mummifying Casey in the blanks, Long as he got Casey nice and warm that should help. Stepping up on the couch he didn't bother with giving much warning before the straps to his mask had been unclipped and the mask discarder off to the side. Raph covered Casey head with a towel and started to hastily ruffle up those dripping wet locks. "Can't leave ya hair wet it'll make you get sick" Raphael offers to explain still clearly working through his current worry and panic at the time. Setting it over the back of the couch when he felt he got a good part of it dried off. Taking hold of Casey's face as he eyed their lips. They seemed blue.

"Stay put imma get you something warm to drink." He states as if Casey had much say in the matter at all. He hopped off and made his way in to the kitchen. Debating what might best for Casey. Of course, tea was an option of course but he knows Casey likes sweets? He filled up the usual kettle with water as he went for thier limited statsh of hit chocolate just meant he would have to make the run next. But if it would better suite Casey taste eh the inconvenience wasn't a bad thing. Grabbing for a mug as he went and set about getting the drink made up for Casey wondering if they might want marshmellows on top or not. Not the thing to focus on right now. As he grabs for the mug. His thick skin made it a breeze to grab at the scolding hot mug. As he returned to Casey on the couch.

"Here this should help you warm up Case," Raphael offered as he moved to sit beside them letting Casey figure out how to wiggle his arms out from under all the layering of blankets. As they handed off the mug to his boyfriend nit paying much attetuon towards Casey afterwards.

His hands were warmer at least. That was a good sign and it was his most focused fact as he leaned back on the cough finally feeling relief since Casey crawled out from the icy water. Glad they were able to least move enough to get put. If Casey was able to insist he was fine he likely was just fine the whole time but Raphael just needed to be sure was all. He couldn't help himself though the idea of anything happening to Casey was just worse than a nightmare or even a fear.

Slowly rolling his head to the side to look over to Casey now. Just letting his gaze sit on them they seem fine. Warmed up seemed to give them some mobility back if anything Casey could handle the cold better than most humans he felt a tad dumb for the over reaction now before he looked away. Jeez Casey made it down into the lair. He was clearly fine. He just quirked his beak and drag a hand over his fave for a moment. Trying to let it ease off of him for now. He smiled finally and moved to lean in against Casey side now. A bit disappointed because he wasn't able to press in against Casey side like he loved to do thanks to the all the blankets they were covered up in. But least Casey was behaving.

"Wanna watch tv?" He finally offers breaking past the slience between them. "I just wanna make sure your good before I actually allow you to leave." Raph states tone firm and final even. If chances were Casey was more likely to over heat now. "You have to finish that cup, doctors orders!" He wages his finger up to them and fixes Casey with a stern stare. Before he reaches for the remote finally. Turning on the TV waiting till a hockey game finally popped on.

Raphael's sure he didn't have to say it. He sure it's why Casey went along with all his antics just now. He just got scared. And it was better to let Raphael work through it or he would just grow mad and they have a stupid little argument.

"Do you like marshmellows?" He instead voices looking back up to Casey "I wasn't sure, I figured you might want a sweet hit drink over like tea." He idly states to them. "Ya know cause you like bake goods and such? I figure hot chocolate be nicer be as sweet as you are." He offers a faint chuckle clearly the flirty joke was more for himself but of course aimed towards Casey for the fact of flattery.

[stoptellinglieslois]

Love fair Act 15

Vampire fanfiction Clark Kent human x Richard Grayson pairing vampire no capes and tights but fangs and might.

Clark pov

I walked towards the washroom as Richard watched every step I took on the way to the washroom. I closed the door after the bat ordeal I told him I would take shower.

Instead I leaned on the door way and slid down on the cold black and white checker floor, As I was finally alone to be in my own turmoil and just let myself go I felt like I was trapped between life and death two worlds who or opposite one of reality and one of horror fantasy.

I stayed there it felt like hours as I got up and started to strip off my clothes I felt odd because I knew Richard was there even if there was a wall between us I could feel his presence in the washroom.

He is hard to shake off he has a strong energy about him I can't push him off, Now that we are too close in each other's space I stepped in the shower and hot water felt like heaven on my skin as it washed over me, I closed my eyes and sunk in the feeling of being lost in the shower lathering up my skin with the soap bar.

I get a quick vision of Richard leaning at the door my eyes snapped open. I breathed in and out as this vision felt very real I stayed still for a moment for a while and let the water rinse my soapy body.

No sound came from the room I closed the shower and got out of the small shower and dried myself with a white towel, I had no extra clothes I was really slumming it I came with nothing except myself at least I had my wallet and cellphone with me.

I grabbed my clothes off the floor and started to get dressed and walked out of the washroom.

And there on the table the motel table sat a plate of mint chocolate cake a glass of milk and a chicken sandwich, Richard was not here in the room I looked around and I sat down at the old table and started eating my mind is still racing at how everything ended up the way it did and how I will get out of it this was something that I would think outside of the box on how to release myself from this nightmare.

I ate the mint cake I have the biggest sweet tooth anyone could ever have and I felt so happy eating this, It is creamy and chocolatey the chocolate is dark and strong but this didn't taste like motel food it taste far better then that.

I drank the milk down and it went well together. I had a feeling I didn't know what it was but I felt like someone was telling me to check the window I didn't finish my mysterious meal but I got up anyways and went by the window.

I saw a large wolf and Richard facing each other I was shocked because i wasn't expecting to see this by the window, I felt both of them looking up to where I was and I froze this was scary they did that at the same time.

The wolf gaze and Richard eyes flashed it was something no human nor animal possessed in them, I moved away from the window meal forgotten and I sat on the bed I only none Richard for a short while but I never thought much about men before in my life I don't even have have a friend.

This guy was....... strange and he had no attention in being my friend he wanted more then just us being chums I am on the run for my life, There is no way out even if I want to run and leave this motel on my own it would be a very strong question mark on how long I would last on my own I can't live the life of not knowing that evil really does bump in the night.

I wouldn't make it out of this state alive.

That hung in the air for a while knowing my lively hood would mean nothing in the wilderness of wolves and vampire that exists, My time was everything at this moment I had to do this differently if I wanted to survive.

These are intelligent beings and they lived a long life I needed to watch and understand or this won't be good for me at all. I heard the door open and Richard walked in. "Change of plans we will rest at a friends house for the time being we will leave at once." He said as he waited for me to get up off the bed.

I got up. "A friend you say." I asked him I walked towards the door. "Yes he is my brother he could provide me and you shelter for the time being." We left the room and I already paid for the motel room we walked into the parking lot I was expecting the wolf but I didn't see anyone I guess he left.

We climbed in the car and took off Richard gave me directions on where we were going, I followed the trail and beside the car a large wolf ran beside it and a flash of a memory of a wolves running beside a carriage came in my mind like lightning.

But I can't recall where it came from.

End of act 15 next is act 16

Thank you for reading

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

In honor of pocky day can we have some yummy hcs of Leona, Mal, and Octatrio playing the pocky game with their S/O 😳👀👀👀

Happy (belated) Pocky Day! ^^ (Errr, I’m not so good with requests that have “due dates”, so please try to avoid those in the future!)

Curiouser and Curiouser...

Leona adamantly refuses to play when you first ask about the game, calling it dumb and a waste of time. His mind only changes when you joke that he’s afraid of losing to you. A scowl overtakes his face as he snatches the box of Pocky from you, yanking out a piece. “Give me that. We’ll see which one of us is the real coward here. Sharpen up your claws, because I’m coming for the prize.”

Leona plays aggressively--after all, his pride is on the line! You can feel each chomp as his teeth come down, your end of the stick hitting the roof of your mouth as his end crumbles. Every bite he takes is a sizable one, drawing him ever closer to you in long, languid strides.

There always seems to be a smirk on his lips during the whole ordeal, a certain smugness about him as he prowls. His tongue lolls about the stick of Pocky, toying with it as be toys with you, like a cat and its mouse. Leona’s confident that he’ll win, whether by his sheer strength and will, or by forcing you to back down—which only fuels your fire, and the desire to over take him, even more.

He taunts you with his presence, leaning in as you’re about to bite down to throw you off your groove. In that moment of your hesitation, Leona pounces, claiming the rest of the Pocky—and your lips—as he lunges forward. His mouth pulls back into a haughty grin, tinged with the taste of chocolate.

“What’d I tell you? You never stood a chance against me.” Leona throws his head back and laughs—a deep and hearty chuckle, rumbling like stone and thunder. He takes your chin in one hand and angles his head, the light catching on his teeth and drowning in the shadows of his face. “As the winner, I’ll collect on my prize now: you.”

This “Pocky Game” is unlike anything Malleus has ever heard of. The objective... to reach the center of a “Pocky” before your opponent? He doesn’t understand why you don’t just manually cut it (look, he’ll demonstrate using his own magic to split it clean down the middle--), but he’s willing to give it a shot, since you’re so enthusiastic. “It appears that I will be under your tutelage today. Do your utmost to instruct me in the ways of this ‘Pocky Game’.”

It’s up to you to make the first move, as Malleus doesn’t have an idea for how to go about playing properly. You bite, then he bites, following your lead--each move in reciprocation to the other. The way his lips close around the stick is graceful, yet tentative, like the movements of an elegant elk approaching an unknown obstacle.

He’s not perfect. His bite is too powerful at times, causing the Pocky to snap and drop--so it takes a few attempts before you manage to get near the center. Your lips now hover so close, you can practically feel the flames protruding from them, setting your insides ablaze.

But he is patient, quietly inviting you with his reptilian pupils, to seize your courage, and the victory, in one final strike. With your face burning as hot as coals, you manage to nibble a bit more. Malleus’s eyebrows raise in surprise--but he accepts your concession tactfully, sweeping up the remains of the sweet treat, his mouth lightly brushing against yours in the process.

“... I believe I understand the intent behind this game now,” he murmurs thoughtfully, tongue tracing the apex of his upper lip. Malleus pulls you closer to him, allowing you to lean against his chest, supported in the crook of his arm. “This must be a roundabout way the bashful sort to request intimacy. Fufu. You need not fret--game or no, I shall always be here to love you.”

Azul initially turns down the idea of the Pocky Game when you pitch it to him. He thinks of it as something silly and frivolous--it’s an inconvenient way to consume food, and it runs the risk of letting a perfectly good snack fall to the floor (such a waste!). It takes some negotiating on your end to sway him to your side. “You make an enticing offer. How could I refuse my chance at this steal of a deal?”

He’s cautious with his end of the stick, balancing it squarely in the center of his full lips. Azul isn’t a betting man--he’d rather bide his time and formulate a proper strategy for victory than blitz the game and risk failure. (That, and he would simply die of embarrassment if he accidentally went too far and crashed into your lips!)

He favors short nibbles, taking his time to chew the Pocky before daring to bite off more. Azul casts his eyes downward, trying to focus his attention on the snack itself rather than on you as he’s concerned that he might get distracted (especially as your faces get closer and closer). Still, his traitorous eyes sneak in the occasional glance when he thinks you aren’t looking--only to avert themselves at the last possible moment before you glance up and catch that telltale, tingling warmth on his cheeks.

Perhaps Azul plays it too safe with his strategy. He doesn’t cover nearly enough ground, leaving you to swipe up the win, and a peck, for yourself. Once he gets over the initial shock of his loss, he, ever the sore loser, demands “best out of three” in a bid to recover his lost pride.

There’s a streak of chocolate left on his lower lip and chin, a smear that ends with his mole. Run your finger along them, tidying up his appearance for him, before pressing the dirtied digit to your mouth, and he’ll chuckle, offering you another stick, another peck on the lips. “How greedy of you. Hmm, that suits me just fine. I’m just as demanding.”

Jade’s more than happy to amuse you by playing the Pocky Game. He slides one out of the box, and, propping it between his wistful lips, looks at you expectantly, his eyes slanted in a smile. Jade’s teasing you, daring you to take the initiative and boldly seize your side. “Oya? Whatever are you staring at me for? This is what you wished to play isn’t it? Well then, do not keep me waiting.”

Playing with him is like walking on a tightrope: dangerous—and yet the allure is too strong for you to see wander away from him. It’s hard to predict just how he’ll act in this situation, but you can’t seem to think straight no matter how hard you try. Jade keeps distracting you with his various wiles: tucking that black stripe of hair behind a ear, running his tongue around the perimeter of his lips, letting his warm breath fan over your face... His actions are all slow and deliberate—he’s totally doing it just to toy with you (and it’s working, darn it)!

Though Jade rarely speaks or overtly taunts you, his eyes speak a thousand words. They seem to always be staring right into your soul, silently challenging you to take more and more adventerous bites, serving as the proverbial finger gesturing for you to inch closer and closer to him. Like the lure of an anglerfish, he draws you ever deeper into his web of deceit. His disarming appearance is so sweet—but only a ruse to get you to lower your guard.

Try to look away to catch your breath, and you can’t. His hands grasp ahold of your face, ensuring that your eyes are on him at all times. Your heartbeat quickens, and your breath hitches, as you find yourself staring Jade dead in the face. Your teeth chatter, and the stick of Pocky drops from between them. He smirks, knowing that he has won both the game and your heart.

“I do believe this victory is mine. Fufu... Fear not. You have yet to collect your consolation prize,” Jade murmurs, his lips at your ear one moment, then hovering over your mouth the next. “Ah—but if you wish to claim that prize, then you must seize it for yourself,” he teases, his words tickling your face, and an index finger running across the length of his lower lip. Jade leaves the hope for a kiss hanging in the air—he’s waiting, all you have to do is pluck up your courage and go for it.

It’s easy to convince Floyd to play with you--but getting him to play by the rules is a whole different story. When you hand him the box of Pocky, he tears it open and starts chowing down, each bite a resounding snap. He leaves one piece intact, dangling it temptingly before you before shoving one end into his mouth. “Ehehe. You want it? Then catch me if you can~”

Floyd bolts off, launching the start of a wild goose chase throughout NRC. It’s not until you’re panting heavily and about to keel over that he shows up before you, the final stick still hanging from his mouth. He provokes you hard--and in a fit of desperation, you fling yourself at him and latch onto one end of the Pocky before he can yank away.

The sheer force of your tackle shoves Floyd’s half of the stick almost all the way into his mouth. Luckily for him, this was his plan all along--to bait you to come on to him aggressively. And you? You fell for it, hook, line, and sinker. The Pocky snaps beneath his sharp teeth, and before you can fully process what’s happening, he’s munching his way through your half of the stick, too. Fast approaching, cornering you.

That’s not how you’re supposed to play this, you want to tell him--but it’s too late. Floyd has already closed the remaining distance between the two of you. The Pocky is long gone, and all that lingers of it is a sweet, chocolatey kiss peppered with biscuit crumbs. A kiss, then two, then three. A flurry of them rains down upon your mouth.

“I win!” Floyd declares giddily, going in for kiss number... well, you’ve lost track. There’s a crazed look in his eyes, so frantic and free, like he can’t get enough of you and he just wants to taste you forever and ever. “But... Just one isn’t enough to satisfy me! I’m still not full yet—but you’ll feed me lots of love until I am, riiight?”

[aweecrush]

FOUR MONTHS, or what happens between President Clinton's visit to Derry on November 30th, 1995 and Erin and Orla's isolation tape recorded on March 30th, 1996.

Part 1 here

January 8th, 1996

Of course she’d get sick the very first school day of the year. Of course.

Not that she would have particularly minded in other circumstances: she’s not an eejit, she won't turn away a couple of days of doing nothing and everyone fussing over her when it comes her way. Plus, Granda always makes his special hot chocolate when one of them is sick, and Christ if that isn’t the best thing she ever tasted.

But the thing is, she’s been sick sick, headaches and nausea and sore throat and all, and it’s been days, and she’s - well, sick of it. It doesn’t help that Anna’s been sick as well, which means that not only is no one available to bring special attention to her through the whole ordeal, but Mammy’s unhinged like - for real. So far, her shouts have done nothing to improve Erin’s state.

The worst of it has passed now, but she still feels kind of hazy and needs to sleep every two hours, so she’s not allowed to go back to school just yet. Again, that wouldn’t have particularly broken her heart, but teachers are always out of their minds at the beginning of the new year, full of motivation and good resolutions, and this time around, with the mock exams in addition to that? Clare must be rubbing out on her, because the thought of this, and the idea of having so much to catch up on when she gets back stresses her out.

Plus, she misses the girls. At the exception of Orla, nobody’s been allowed past the door yet.

1996 is off to such a good start.

The day has been mostly quiet: Granda spent an hour criticizing Da’s drive skills, but Anna’s been crying a little less, and Erin has managed a good three hours downstairs with everyone before the headache starts. She’s been alternating between reading her Christmas gift and nodding off ever since.

It’s well into the afternoon when someone knocks at her bedroom door.

“What are you doing here?” is the first thing that comes out of her mouth as James pops his head in, all smiles and wild curls.

She’s so surprised, her stomach does a somersault inside.

“Well, hello to you too, Erin - I see bedrest has done wonders for your manners,” and she chuckles with him as he easily catches the pillow she throws at him.

“How did you get in here? I thought Mammy was watching the door like a prison warden.”

“She did kick us out in less than five words and five seconds both times we tried last week,” he confesses, his face a mix of amusement and sorry about that. “So, I tried a different approach today.”

She raises a curious eyebrow.

“James Maguire, did ye finally find a way to bribe my Ma? Because a lot of people would pay for this secret - the inhabitants of this house very much included.” He laughs, and Erin realizes that she’s missed that sound.

“Not yet, no. But I did mention that you needed your homework if you didn’t want to get behind.”

“But Orla’s been bringing it to me.”

His face twists a little in embarrassment. “Yes, that’s what your mum said.” Then, something like pride twinkles in his eyes. ”So, I told her we really needed to start our homework sessions, because the teachers already gave us so much to do, and you know, exams are coming - real soon, too.”

“Our - what?”

He smirks. “Come on Erin, you remember: the sessions you and I said we’d start this year - you helping me with my English, me with your math?”

Shaking her head at the cheeky attitude that’s starting to radiate through his every pore, Erin tries and fails to contain her smile.“I can’t believe Mammy bought that.”

“Of course she did - I’m an excellent liar.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Yeah, well, a good enough one. Although I did tell her that you weren’t contagious anymore at this point - which is true, I looked it up - so I think that helped, too. Also I think her show had started, so I’m pretty sure she would have agreed to anything to stop me from talking and go back to the TV.”

Dopey grin very much still on, James takes off his jacket, and throws himself next to her on the bed. “Alright - you’ll never guess what Jenny did this morning.”

January 14th, 1996

To her right, Clare’s great uncle’s loud snores rise again, each one even more impressive than the other. Not that she can blame him, really: Christ but that movie is bad. She’s not even sure she gets it. Well, at least she hopes she doesn’t, because otherwise, that means that this man just married his own sister, which really -

“Damn, that movie really is shit, isn’t it?”

She rolls her head to see James’ standing in the doorway, eyes focused on the TV and corridor’s lights shedding pretty shadows on his face. When his eyes meet hers, he chuckles, then gestures towards her TV partner.

“Your new friend seems to be enjoying it, though.” She snorts.

“He was way smarter than me on that one - there’s things I won’t be able to unsee. Ever,” and that earns her another chuckle.

He keeps his eyes on hers a little after, and Erin just looks back at the screen, trying her best to swallow the lump coming back in her throat, and focus on the God awful story instead.

It’s not that easy, but she keeps trying anyway.

After a moment, she feels more than sees him close the distance and sit down next to her on the floor, back against the sofa. He copies her and lets his head fall back on the cushion, and she can feel his thigh pressed up against hers.

It feels better, then. A little less…

Just less.

He doesn’t say anything, not for a long while. It’s only after they watch the fire destroy the whole family mansion in an unexpected and excruciating twist that she eventually speaks.

“It’s okay James - you can go back to the party, you don’t have to sit with me.” She wants him to, though. He’s warm - he’s always so warm. “I’m fine.”

Again, Erin feels more than sees him shrug. “I want to. I mean, for one, I can’t possibly miss the end of this masterpiece,” he points at the TV, and she smiles. There’s a little pause before he finishes, his tone a little different. “Plus, she was really pissing me off too, actually, so please don’t make me go back there.” She chuckles a little, even though it hurts again.

A couple of minutes pass, and Erin tries her best to focus on the images in front of her. This time, he’s the one who breaks the silence. “She was really out of line, you know - Clare’s still telling her off, actually.”

She knows he’s being nice, but she really wishes he’d stop. She can feel her bottom lip shaking again, and she just - she just wants to watch this stupid movie, and forget the whole thing. Forget everything, really - she just wants some quiet.

When she feels the slightest brush of his hand against hers, she doesn’t know if she’s more mad at him for staying and seeing her like that, or relieved that he won’t leave her alone. Not for the first time that night, tears start rolling down her cheeks.

Feck.

“She was wrong, Erin - don’t listen to her.” She snorts, drying her face with the arm that’s not touching his. “She was.” He sounds really mad now. James’ doesn’t get mad, not like this.

Finally turning her head to look back at him, she finds his green, dark eyes already looking at her.

He was the one that first told Michelle to shut it. She’d told him off, of course, but he’d insisted, and Clare had backed him up. It had started calmly enough, though.

Nothing had even started, in fact - not really. It was just another night of studying at her house during which Michelle, inevitably bored, inevitably started telling them about that new fella she was seeing. Of course, it had gotten really graphic, really fast, Orla’s eyebrows furrowing even further with each word as Clare started to look green. At one point, Erin eventually told her to cut it out.

The shift of Michelle’s attention from her story to her personal case hadn’t been a welcomed one.

“I’m serious, Erin - you’ve got to get on with it,” she’d said. “It’s the new year: make that your number one resolution or something, because we’re dangerously approaching tragedy at this point.”

She didn’t know why it didn’t end there like it usually did, but it didn’t: she’d kept going on and all night long, and then again on the bus Friday morning, relentless about the fact that it was damn time Erin got herself a lad, or even a random fella to at least snog, because it was just inacceptable that at her age, she still didn’t have any move - or the slightest experience whatsoever, as she so gently put it.

(Ach, as if she didn’t already know that. As if she wasn’t aware of how pathetic she looked, most likely to all of Derry - as if that wasn’t exactly what had relentlessly run through her mind as she waited for John Paul to show up, all dolled up in that stupid dress.

No boy had even looked at her.)

“For the love of Christ, leave her alone, Michelle!,” James had all but growled this morning as his cousin kept going.

“Yes - and Erin, don’t listen to her. Why are you even teasing her and not us, anyway? I’ve never had a kiss or a date - neither did Orla.”

“Yes, but Orla’s Orla - ”

“Do ye think birds sleep?”

“- and you’re a lesbian, Clare: much more complicated for you. She, however, has no excuse.”

Erin had left the room and headed to the bathroom then, trying to convince herself that Michelle’s words didn’t bug her this much. That they didn’t hit right where it hurt, and that she didn’t feel like shite.

She does.

And now here she is, watching TV with a sleeping seventy year-old man on a Saturday instead of knacking some drinks and enjoying Clare’s family party as they’d planned, feeling like her tears might fall at any moment, the last of Michelle’s jabs delivered an hour ago a little too hurtful to pretend like everything’s okay.

“Hey.”

His voice brings her back to reality, and she looks back at him and the small, gentle smile he has on his face. “Forget it, okay? You’re great, Erin. Any boy would be lucky to have you.”

She scoffs. “Yeah, well, as Michelle so pertinently pointed out, they’re not exactly lining up, are they.”

“You mean in our all girl Catholic school?”

She gives him what’s meant to be a half amused, half reprimanding look at that, but he’s not laughing. Quite the contrary, actually.

“I mean it, Erin. I don’t know when it will happen, if it’ll be here, or in college, but - I do know that you’ll find someone that you actually like soon, someone who actually realizes what he has instead of pricks like David Donnelly and John Paul.”

It’s so strange, seeing him this worked up. But his face softens then, and somehow, it helps the knots in her stomach unfold a little.

He bumps her shoulder a little, and she answers his smile. “And until then, you shouldn’t rush into kissing or dating the first fella who comes around just because my brainless cousin has decided there’s a deadline for stuff like that - believe me.”

“Regretting Katya then?”

As predicted, he groans with a roll of his eyes dramatic enough to put her to shame, and despite the tears still in her eyes, Erin laughs.

“Every chance you get, huh? Well, believe it or not, Katya was actually not my first kiss.” She - Oh.

He grins. “Yeah.” Then, his wee face is back to soft again, and he hesitates a little before meeting her eyes again. When he does, his are laughing, and something else she can’t quite put her finger on. “I’m glad you stopped me that night though. You were right.”

“About the fact that she was mental?”

He shakes his head, amused, and his curls go all bouncy. “No, about the fact that it’s better to wait - do it with someone you care about. I’m glad I did.”

Aye. Well, she’s glad to - Katya really was mental.

Her tummy feels a bit weird, but then James’ getting up and extending his hand to help her do the same.

“Come on: my aunt and uncle aren’t home tonight, let’s go watch a real movie.”

“What about the girls?”

“Well, Orla’s very busy enjoying the chocolate fountain yet again, Michelle is getting drunk and flirting with Clare’s second cousin, and Clare herself is actually talking to her very interested looking neighbor.”

Erin grins. “Really?”

“Oh yeah. Don’t worry, they won’t miss us.”

And so she wraps her fingers around his, and, grabbing their jackets on their way, Erin follows him out.

They’re barely out the door and still laughing at the way a very inebriated Mrs Devlin nearly fell on them when a voice raises behind them on the street.

“James, is that you?”

They both turn to see a girl about their age walk towards them, a box in her hand and her grinning face illuminated by the outside lights of the houses.

She’s pretty - really pretty.

“Oh my God, it is you!”

Erin turns to him just in time to see recognition materialize on his face. “Emily! Right, of course - what the hell are you doing here?”

They talk for a couple of minutes, both surprised at what Erin admits to be a pretty crazy coincidence. When they part, Emily’s nice smile still glowing, James quickly explains a bit more when he knows her from (school, kind of) - and then, inevitably and passionately starts listing their film options for the night.

Aye, but that boy loves his movies.

January 18th, 1996

They get detention again.

Of course, her Ma blows it all out of proportion and makes it into a big thing, when really, it isn’t their fault. Well, not completely, anyway. As a consequence, her and Orla see their chores multiply by two for a month, but at least they don’t get their TV privileges revoked like Michelle and James. Clare’s banned from hanging out with them for two weeks all together.

Other than that, though, things are good. Jenny has a new fringe and it looks awful, which doesn’t waste anything. Even her grades are going up, which she doesn’t see coming - not that fast, anyway. James’ a great teacher though - much, much better than Sister Philips (when he explains it, math actually makes sense, which is really new to her). He’s been helping her with physics, too, and if he wasn’t Ma’s favorite before (he definitely was), that would have done the trick.

“Is the wee English fella not having tea with us tonight?” Granda asks as Erin pulls up her chair and sits.

“He couldn’t make it for tutoring tonight Granda. He’ll be coming tomorrow instead - he asked if that was okay.”

“Of course it is: you know he’s welcome any day, love.”

“Aye, he’s a good kid so he is.” Erin smiles. She likes that they all like him so much.

As she takes the potatoes from Orla, she feels a bit weird about him not being here, too. It really is nice, having him over.

Before she can linger on that thought though, her Da asks about that new song she likes, and Erin starts rambling about it with an excited smile despite the roll of her Ma’s eyes at the other side of the table.

January 24th, 1996

“Is that girl trying to ride James?”

They all turn around in one perfect, swift motion that could not have been more coordinated if they’d tried.

The pub is packed, and they have to kind of twist and raise up on their chairs and bench to see where Michelle just pointed with her beer, but sure enough, leaning against the bar, James’ laughing at something a very close, very pretty girl has apparently just said to him.

Next to Michelle, Orla tilts her head to the side. “Does James have a new friend now?”, and his cousin snickers.

“Given the way she’s pointing her tits at him Orla, I don’t think it’s her friend she wants to be.”

Erin feels like a stone drops in her stomach.

“Who is that?” Clare frowns as they all sit back. “She looks familiar.”

“Isn’t it Cilian’s sister?”

“Do ye think so?"

“Aye, I’m fairly certain it’s her, yeah. Feck it but dicko’s really on a strike these days, isn’t he,” she chuckles, downing another gulp of her beer.

“What do you mean?” The alcohol and heat make Erin’s voice a little shakier than she would have liked, but nobody seems to notice.

“Didn’t I tell you yet? Little Jamesie’s all grown up now: he got a dirty call a couple of days ago.”

He -

“What?”

It’s a good thing the pub’s so loud, or Clare’s high pitched voice would certainly have turned all heads to their tables. Not that it’s unjustified, really.

“Well, it wasn’t actually a call, since we don’t have a phone anymore and all that. And it wasn’t dirty either I suppose - but that girl definitely wants to ride him as well.”

“What happened?”

As soon as she asks the question though, Erin’s not so sure she wants the answer anymore. Michelle’s enthusiasm doesn’t leave her any time to dwell on it though - not on that, or on the way her tummy’s twisting in a sort of a painful way.

God but she had too much to drink.

Much more resistant than her, Michelle takes another sip of her beer, and smirks. “Apparently, it was a girl he knows from England that’s going to live here now I suppose - he bumped into her at your Granny’s party Clare actually. Aye Erin, you left with him that night - you saw her, right?”

Of course. The pretty girl with a nice smile.

“Um - yeah.”

“Well, as you’ve seen, and I’m shocked to even say it really, but - massive, massive ride. Anyway, that girl comes knocking at the door, and she asks for James and starts about how she asked around for his address because how crazy is it that they’re both here now, and she doesn’t have many friends yet, and she’d love to hang out with him.”

“Well, that’s charming: knocking at his door to tell him she doesn’t have anyone else to hang out with so she might as well hang out with him.” Her cheeks feel a little hot now. She’s - mad, she realizes.

But really, is that any way to talk to a fella, let alone a sweet one like him?

Michelle just waves her off, apparently not offended at all on her cousin’s behalf. “Don’t you worry about that Erin, she wants to see him alright. I’m telling you, I watched the whole thing from the kitchen, and all the signs were there: the hair flips, the eyes, the laughing - oh, and yeah, the grabbing of the arm too.”

As she says that, her eyes stare past their heads and behind them and indeed, they turn to see Cilian’s sister's hand on his forearm - and then, running up his shoulder.

“Well, I hope it works out,” Clare pipes up enthusiastically, cheeks bright pink from the alcohol and heat. “James deserves to have someone.”

“He has us.”

“You know what I mean, Erin - a girlfriend. Plus, I think it’s all quite romantic actually - the kind of meetings that make for a really nice story.”

Erin rolls her eyes. “We’re in a sweaty pub, Clare - it’s hardly romantic.”

“No, I meant the other girl - the one from England? I just think it’s lovely, finding each other again like that against all odds, far from home - kind of like destiny.”

Her burp kind of takes all the wonderful out of the picture she’s trying to paint, but it doesn't seem to bother her. “That’s definitely a meet cute. You know, the cute way the boy meets the girl in the movies?”

“Aye but it is yeah. I vote for that girl too then,” Orla chimes in.

“Well, her or that one, in either case, it’s impressive. I’m actually proud of the wee fecker - good for him. Although I am still struggling to understand it, if I’m honest. I mean, has the prick turned into a ride or something? What’s with all the attention all of the sudden?”

Again, they all turn towards the bar, Clare spilling her beer all over Erin’s lap as she tries to sip and analyze their friend from afar, head tilted to the side. “I don’t know…”

In fairness, he has.

He’d always had pretty eyes, and a beautiful smile, and then he got that haircut that made his curls even more enticing. He'd grown into his body, too, his shoulders broader, his frame just a little bit taller. The roundness of the boy has all but completely disappeared from his face now, leaving his jaw sharper, turning him into…well, into a proper lad, really.

He is a ride.

Do they really not see that?

Before any of them can argue one way or the other though, the object of their conversation spots them, eyes confused then dangerous, and they all swing back on their chairs, pretending and falling that they’d not been full-on stalking him.

Well. Most of them.

“Way to go, dicko,” Michelle all but yells, one thumb and one beer up.”Didn’t think you had it in ye!”

January 30th, 1996

It hits her on Orla's birthday.

Well, at the end of Orla’s birthday sleepover, to be precise. She doesn't know how she doesn't see it coming, but - she really doesn't.

It’s a school day, so to celebrate, their Mas at least authorize all of them to stay over at Erin’s with no bedtime (“If I hear anything about one of yous dozing off in school tomorrow, help me Jesus wains, there’ll be tears.”). It's a nice day, really: Orla has the time of her life, running all over school with her birthday girl crown on her head, and when they get home, she zooms in the small fountain of chocolate that Mammy has prepared for the occasion. Dinner is nice as well, all of them squeezed at their small table that Erin realizes is currently hosting all the people that she loves most in this world. Of course, when Michelle asks her why she’s smiling like an idiot, she can’t say - but it’s nice.

There’s the cake, the opening (ripping, really) of the gifts and then, true to their words, all the adults leave them be. In terms of taking full advantage of that special “all on their own, all night” treat though? They could have probably done better.

Much, much better.

When she wakes up, it takes Erin a minute to understand where she is. The TV is still on, the only other light coming from the hall, making it a little difficult to see at first.

It’s barely an embarrassing twelve thirty, and if the long ended credits on the screen are any indication, they’ve been snoring for at least one hour, exhausted by their day of school, the one hour long, surprisingly intense aerobics session the birthday girl insisted they do, and the tons of delicious food that had probably been the final nail in their coffins.

Sometimes, she thinks that maybe those mouths at school aren’t that wrong, when they say their band is far from being the coolest.

It was a fun night, though, and Orla was happy. That’s what matters.

Michelle’s still on Granda’s chair, legs on one side and open mouth on the other in a position that her back will surely regret in the morning. Orla’s spread like a starfish on the carpet, wrapping paper still in one hand. Clare’s on a ball at the other end of the couch, legs folded into herself. Erin’s at the other end, and, initially seated between both of them, James is now completely leaning against her, one arm around her waist and his head on her shoulder.

He looks so peaceful, when he sleeps, that slight concern mixed with doubt he always wears on his face completely gone. Beautiful, really. His lips are slightly parted, and a couple of curls fall on his forehead. Erin feels the sudden urge to brush them away, so she does.

Slowly lifting the hand that’s been resting on his arm not to wake him, she tries to move one with her finger. Smiles sleepily when it immediately drops back where it was. She remembers being so pissed at the restaurant that day, when Katya kept threading her fingers in his curls, her whole body turned towards him. She can’t really blame the girl though: they’re really, really soft.

There’s warmth in her chest, so much so that she feels like her heart is melting a little, and in her stomach, it feels like the thing that’s been twisting more and more lately wakes again. In a nice way, through. A real nice way.

Clare suddenly moves in her sleep, grumbling something she can’t quite make out, effectively sending her foot in James’ back. An annoyed frown creases his features for a second, and then he’s moving even closer to her, his face all but buried in her neck at that point.

He smells good. Comforting, safe, and just - really, really good. Her heart flutters.

And that's when it dawns on her.

Vaguely aware that she’s stopped breathing, Erin looks back at his arm around her. At him. She can feel his breath on her skin now, and it’s just -

James. Seated in the couch that has seen her grow up, the slight snore of her cousin coming from the floor, Erin realizes that she’s...falling for James.

Not falling, really. If the treacherous thing in her chest and her barely functioning mind are any indication, she’s already fallen pretty hard, pretty deep, now on the bottom of the pit looking up.

Oh. Oh.

Well.

Shite.

[imaslutforremusandsirius]

Soft

Hi, i was sad all day so i wrote this to cheer myself up lmao, please enjoy people :) This is really soft lol, don‘t expect hardcore shit

Warning: 18+

Right, lets go

---

It‘s been about two weeks since you and Remus have had a moment for yourselves. Everytime you decided to make time for each other something came up or he wasn‘t feeling well because of the moon. Both of you were angry and stressed and moody, because you wanted each other so bad, but the universe just seemed to be against the idea.

„I don‘t want to fight with you right now!“, Remus let out, voice loud, proving that he in fact did want to fight.

„Why are you yelling then?“ Your tone matched his, your mood quickly turning sour.

„I‘m not bloody yellin, you‘re jus‘ being a sensitive wuss. Fuckin‘ hell.“ He whispered the last part as fingers pressed against his closed eyes. He had fucked up.

Your jaw dropped, a disbelieving laugh escaping you. „A wuss!? You must be bloody joking right now! You utter ass, Remus Lupin!“

He groaned with annoyance, aggressively packing his bag as he made his way out of the common room. Stopping midway he turned around sharply and said in an overly cheery voice, „Whenever you decide to stop being a snotty brat, come find me!“ Bowing he gave you a mocking smile, not staying long enough to witness you giving him the finger. He did have an idea what you did though, hearing the others gasp as they watched the whole ordeal.

„What a prat“, Mary said, plopping down on your side as Lily took your other.

Lily rubbed your arm soothingly. „Hey, don‘t worry. Every couple fights and with the amount of stress weighting on us it was bound to happen...“

You let out a breath and leaned back against the couch. „I know he didn‘t mean it, but god-“ Your voice cut off, choking slightly as you tried to calm yourself. „I miss him and he‘s acting like I‘m being clingy. We haven‘t kissed in three days!“

Mary let out a sympathetic sigh, taking your hand. „I‘m sorry, I know it sucks. But I‘m sure that he misses you just as much. This is Remus we‘re talking about, the bloke never shows his emotions.“

„I agree“, Lily joined in, „besides James has been telling me that Remus has been shitty to them as well. It‘s not your fault, he just doesn‘t cope in a healthy way.“

Now you felt bad for riling him up. Remus must have been feeling really down lately for him to react like he did minutes ago. Of course he misses you goddamn it, the boy can‘t sleep through a single night if your aren‘t there.

„Merlin girls I feel so bad now. I need to make it alright again. I never even asked him how he‘s feeling..“

Mary smirked suddenly, giving you a pointed glance. „I mean...You did say that you needed some alone time..“

You smirked back, albeit blushing a little, and told her to continue.

„There is this muggle clothing brand Lily told me about...“

„Victorias Secret“ Lily offered, now smiling as well.

„Exactly! We should check it out. Besides our dorm will be empty tonight, we‘re planning to sneak out and stay with the girls from Ravenclaw.“

„I love where this is going“, you beamed, „Let‘s get going, I need sexy lingerie.“

---

The girls were bickering about what color suited your skin best, when you zoned put a little, remembering a conversation you had with Remus before youe started dating.

„I really like your sweater. Where‘d you get it?“

You smiled at Remus, thanking him. „Got it from a second hand shop in London. I just couldn‘t resist the color.“

Remus smiled back. „Yeah, emerald green is my favorite color. I‘d kill to have something in that color“, he joked.

You giggled, giving him a shy smile. „Well, maybe you will.“

Beaming you swirled around, grabbing their shoulders to get their attention. With a handful of underwear in their hands they turned around, raising their brows simultaneously.

„Girls, I remember his favorite color! It‘s emerald!“

It took you another hour to finally find the shade of emerald you were looking for and when you did you squealed with joy.

„It‘s perfect!“, you gasped. „Oh my god, he‘s going to love it! It looks just like my sweater!“

The girls grinned at your happiness, immediately pushing you towards the cash desk.

God, Remus is gonna love it.

---

You let out a breath, finally sitting down.

Lily emerged from the bathroom. „Alright, lets check. Bed clean?“

„Check.“

„Shower and lotion?“

„Check.“

„Washed the underwear?“

„Check.“

„Good. That should be all then. Mary and I are leaving now, if you want any snacks there are some in my trunk. Just take whatever.“

You hugged them gratefully. „Thank you girls, I love you.“

„We love you too. Have fun!“

Mary peaked her head through and laughingly let out a „Don‘t break the bed like last time!“ before Lily pulled her away.

You fondly shook your head and glanced at your bed where the pieces were laid out. It was a beautiful emerald lacy set, with a bra and panties with attached garter belts. James and Sirius had promised to send Remus up, so now it was time to wait. Putting the underwear on you lit some candles, fluffing your bed. Just as you slipped one of Remus‘ old shirts over your head the door opened, revealing your boyfriend. He shuffled inside, simply dressed in a pair of grey sweatpants and a black sweater, closing the door. Neither of you said anything for a few seconds, stranglely nervous.

„I‘m sorry-“

„I shouldn‘t have-“

You cut each other off trying to speak at the same time. You flushed as Remus chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck.

Remus finally walked towards you to pull you in, his hands gripping your waist tight. You put your face in his neck to breathe in his familiar scent. Books and chocolate and safe and warm. He smelled like eveything you love.

„I‘m sorry I never asked how you‘re doing. You never let it show and I forgot that even if you‘re my rock, you‘re human. You have the right to be overwhelmed Remus...“

He pressed a kiss on your crown, muttering in a soft tone. „I know, I‘m working on the communication part. I‘m sorry too, love.“

You pulled back, your chin resting ln his chest amd you gave him a coy smile. He raised his brow, smirking.

„I have something for you“, you drawled, pushing him on your bed to stand between his legs, „but you need to unpack it.“

Remus tilted his head to look at you, his gaze questioning.

„Take my shirt off.“

His lips parted and you could see the anticipation in his eyes. Slowly he glided his hands up your bare legs to grip the shirt, holding your intense gaze he pulled it up, groaning softly when he saw the garter belt peaking out. You let him pull the material over your head, your hair falling onto your shoulders.

He let out a breathless laugh.

„You look stunning.“

A kiss on your sternum.

„The most beautiful person in the world.“

A kiss on your belly.

„So fucking perfect.“

A kiss on the hem of your panties. Another on your hipbones. The last ones on the tops of your thighs.

You tugged at his hair to make him look at you. Bending down at the knees you kissed his mouth. He looked up at you with pure adoration, as if he was looking at a goddess.

„Remus“, you called his name softly, ���Will you let me fuck you tonighg?“

He closed his eyes groaning. „Anything“, he breathed.

You smiled softly. „Take of your clothes and lay on the bed.“

He complied immediately, taking his clothes off and rested on the bed. You straddled his waist, his hands coming up to rest on your thighs, his fingers playing with the garter belts. Remus is usually very dominant in bed, throwing you around and making you take him. But in times like this, where he lets you take the wheel, you know that you have to treat him very gently.

You leaned down, brushing your lips against his. He parted his mouth with a single breath and you connected your lips. Moaning, his arms snaked around your waist to pull you closer and he kissed you deeper. Your tongue licked at his bottom lip and he opened his mouth to let you in. Dominating the kiss, you bit his lip teasingly.

„Love, please I need you.“

You shushed him, kissing his jaw and chin, sucking on his neck. Your lips brushed against his chest, lips locking around his nipples, licking and bruising them. Moving further down his body, you sucked at his hipbones, your nose brushing against his happy trail. He bucked his hips moaning your name.

You wrapped your lips around the tip and massaged him with your tongue, tasting the precum. You hummed softly and he hissed, hands stroking your hair and he parted his legs a little. Your hand tugged on his heavy balls, your mouth taking him deeper.

„Fuck baby, yes!“

You sucked hard and he whimpered, hand tightening in your hair. Your tongue played with the vein on the side of his cock, making him twitch inside of your mouth.

„If you ah don‘t stop-“

He choked on his words and you pulled off, wanting him inside of you when he came.

„How do you want me?“, you whispered softly as you moved to take off your panties.

„On your back, wanna see your face...“

You laid down and he sat there for a second, admiring your beauty. The way your hair sprawled around you, the swell of your breasts in the emerald bra, your soft skin and parted lips.

He placed himself between your legs, hands on either side of your face. Remus‘ cock brushed against your slit, slowly sliding in and you let out a breath against his lips.

He groaned, holding your gaze and pushed inside, a vulnerable glint in his usually guarded eyes. You pulled him closer, his chest brushing yours and looped your legs around the back of his hamstrings. He was going in deep and slow strokes, just wanting to feel close to you. Hitting the spot inside of you, you let out a broken whine, pushing youe hips up to meet his thrusts. He went faster, still a tender look in his eyes and his other hand rubbed your clit.

You gasped at the contact and whimpered. Tightening around him, you mewled „Remus m‘gonna cum-“

„Cum love, fuck“

You came at the same time, looking at each other lovingly as he kissed you. His hot seed spilled deep inside of you and you smiled breathless.

„I love you so much“, Remus whispered, kissing all over your face.

„I love you too.“

[britishsass]

Hc: Helmut has colour - soundr synesthesia and that's why walking on the colour bridges makes noises that change in tone depending on what colors you're touching. His 'you taste like shoes'comment has nothing to do with his synesthesia, in his overstimulated haze he actually licked razs shoe. He has decided to never speak of that again.

I'm more of a fan of the idea of him having both that kind of synesthesia and just... Everything really blurs together? I want to go super in-depth here, even though I'm bad with terms.

I mean, I'm not actually synesthetic, but I'll still describe voices as colors (For instance, the TF2 cast: Scout's got an orange tone, with some red. Real warm colors. Sniper's got a grey-brown with hints of green-- kinda camoflauge. Spy's very... dark red, same tone I'd use for blood. Soldier is a real sandpaper tone, maybe tan? Demo is a lovely blue-green. Engie is a soft blue. Heavy is like rubbing your face on a pillow, but i'd say it's a good color, maybe a nice dull red? Medic is orange-yellow tone.)

At the same time, I like to think that Helmut's senses are definitely messy after the jar time. All of a sudden there's so much! And the way I write him throughout my stories likely shows that.

For instance, from Otto's Ordeal:

"It’s a symphony. Violins and cellos, definitely. More electronic violins, though… And that bit over there, all the lights-- [...] Tastes like mint, or-- It’s spicy, but in a good way. The kind where you just breathe out and savor it. And that part with the red-- It’s sirens and screaming, something that’s not good-- Rotting away already, like… Bad produce! Yeah, really bad… peaches. I think. It’s got that nasty feeling to it. And the rest is-- It’s like-- And the whole thing-- It’s so--"

I wanted to emphasize that feeling of overwhelming colors, like looking out at a place like Vegas from a hotel room.

It's bright, it's chaotic, there's a million places your eyes want to go. I was personally referencing my memories of my last vacation, where I was able to see all the lights of a big city from the place we were staying at. It was beautiful at night, just standing outside and looking at the horizon, with the lights everywhere. And the chaos is, honestly, so much easier to express when you have someone like Helmut, who's got the senses jumbled up like that.

Another example of how I've used the same thing can be found in Cold Hands, Warm Hearts, where I use it to be Very Gay.

Did the air always smell like peppermint, or was that just the way his addled mind registered the feeling of someone leaning on him? Did it always taste like hot cocoa burning his tongue, or was that just the way that he could hear the soft breaths and the gentle ebb and flow of emotions like a tide?

To be honest, a lot of the time, mixing the senses is a lot easier for me to actually use them. I don't think about smells or tastes very much, so when I'm writing a character like Helmut, it's so much easier to express a feeling without spelling it out.

That whole story is full of examples, though! Here's a few more.

A slightly sad smile is "bells and a soft snowfall, or maybe a warm blue-green ocean and the warmth of the sun?"

Bob with sweater paws from Helmut's coat? "Smells like flowers and the sound of laughter"

Holding hands is described as "Neapolitan ice cream. With sprinkles. Rainbow sprinkles."

Hugging is described as rainbows.

A smile is described as "smell[ing] like warmth and chocolate cake"

Basically, it's just kinda fun for me to make it more of a mix of everything-- What can I say? I like writing Helmut Fullbear randomly saying something tastes like cold because i would do that too.

[professorkenobi]

a catboy for christmas

Note: This is a big time jump forward in the stray catboy au, but you can read the last part here. And you can see adorable art for this snippet by the wonderful shatou here! Happy Holidays all!

For many years, Obi-Wan had dutifully broken out the ladder and strung up Christmas lights on his house every December. And, for many years, he’d opted against shopping for a tree, hauling it into his living room and decorating it, just for him to be the only person who’d enjoy it.

On the odd year that he had friends over during the holiday season, he’d break out the holly-trimmed dinnerware set from the storage bin in the garage, but that was about the extent of his indoor decorating.

He was always busy with the end of the semester anyway. To go to all of that effort just for himself was pointless.

But, with Anakin, it was different. 

Halfway through the ordeal of stringing lights from the roof, Anakin came outside with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders, still rubbing sleep from his eyes.

“Why didn’t you wake me up?”

“You were sleeping quite peacefully when I got up at seven.”

Anakin made a face. “Well, now that it’s a normal time to be awake I can help.”

Which was how Anakin ended up the one balancing on the top of the ladder, seemingly very much in his element, while Obi-Wan fed him the lights from the ground. 

By the time they were finished, Obi-Wan’s hands were numb in his gloves and Anakin’s ears were stiff from the cold. So Obi-Wan went about making hot chocolate while Anakin started a fire, and Anakin roped him into watching not just Home Alone, but the sequels too (“How can this be the sequel, that isn’t even the same child,”—”Just trust me, okay, it’s really good!”—sigh).

He didn’t register exactly when he started rubbing his fingers over Anakin’s silky ears to warm them up, but he continued even after Anakin scooted closer and dropped his head onto his shoulder.

—

Obi-Wan asked around at work for the best Christmas tree farm in the area, so that weekend they bundled up and set about finding a tree to fit in the corner of the living room.

He’d been planning to pick out a tree alone, knowing Anakin was still struggling with venturing out into public, but as soon as he’d mentioned the trip Anakin had perked up and declared they should go right now, before all the good trees are taken!

Obi-Wan soon discovered out that by good trees, Anakin meant big trees.

“This one.”

“Anakin, that’s not going to fit.”

Anakin pointed at the tree with the axe in his hand. “But it’s the perfect tree! It smells the freshest.”

Obi-Wan shook his head. Smells the freshest, really...

The tree also happened to be ample enough to take up half their living room. But Obi-Wan ran a hand over the branches, checking for loose needles, and discovered that this was indeed the healthiest tree they’d seen so far. And if it was the one Anakin wanted…

“Alright then, looks like we found our tree.”

Anakin’s responding grin set off a delicate flutter in his chest. 

The tree was almost too big to fit the racks on Obi-Wan’s sedan, but they somehow managed to secure it.

With Anakin taking charge of not only chopping the tree down, but also heaving its bulk through the front door, Obi-Wan couldn’t imagine not having Anakin with him for the task. 

The realization that he couldn’t imagine ever not having Anakin with him again hit him like a snowball to the chest.

—

It got dark out so early at this time of year, but inside Obi-Wan’s little kitchen it was cozy and bright, filled with the spicy scent of baking gingerbread. 

“Where’s the vanilla?” 

“Middle shelf on the end.” He nodded in the general direction.

“Gotcha!” Jars clattered as Anakin rummaged through the cabinet. Obi-Wan set the last spoon in the dish drainer and wiped his hands on a towel.

He turned just in time to catch Anakin pouring vanilla straight into the mixer bowl.

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow. “Aren’t you supposed to measure that?” 

“Leave the science to me, old man.” Anakin cracked a sharp-toothed smile and started the mixer, mostly drowning out the jazz drifting from the speakers. 

It was true that Obi-Wan wasn’t much of a baker. He was a fair cook, but tended to stick to the same rotation of dishes for his weekly meal planning. Anakin, on the other hand, was accomplished enough that he had a disquieting tendency to play fast and loose with the recipe.

It bothered Obi-Wan less than he would have thought. He couldn’t even bring himself to mind the mess. Not when it was created by Anakin flitting around the kitchen, getting a dusting of flour on his ears and everything else in the vicinity. 

Obi-Wan busied himself drying dishes until the mixer powered down.

“Wanna lick?”

Anakin stood at his shoulder, holding out a beater absolutely drenched in white frosting. His other hand hovered underneath to catch any drips. 

“Ah— tempting, but no thank you.” 

“You sure?” Anakin shook the beater slightly, and a small glob fell onto his fingers. “It’s delicious.” 

“It’s yours.” 

He had been tempted. But forgoing something small to make Anakin happy felt the most natural thing in the world.

“Your loss!” 

Anakin stuck the tip of the beater into his mouth and began enthusiastically licking up the frosting. Obi-Wan caught a flash of pink tongue twining between the wires and swallowed reflexively, heat rising to his cheeks. 

He was dimly aware that he was staring, but he couldn’t seem to tear his eyes away. Not as Anakin began cleaning off his hands, seemingly unaware of the picture he made with one sticky finger after another disappearing between his full lips and more frosting smeared across his cheek.

“You have a little, er, by your mouth there,” he managed. 

“Oh, thanks.” Anakin wiped at his face, missing by a mile. “Did I get it?” 

Obi-Wan chuckled. “Not quite— here, let me.” He swiped at Anakin’s cheek with his thumb and, unthinkingly, brought it to his mouth. 

The taste of vanilla and sugar burst saccharine on his tongue. 

“You were right.” 

Anakin blinked at him, wide-eyed. “A-about what?” 

“It is delicious.” 

—

He was straining to reach the top of the tree when Anakin walked in from the kitchen, the last bite of a cookie in his hand.

“Wait, let me do that!” 

Anakin swiped the star from his hands with ease and went right up on his tip-toes. He had just the extra couple inches that were needed to place the star in the right spot, nestling it among the highest branches so it wouldn’t topple.

Then he turned to him, a wide grin dimpling his cheeks. “How’s that?”

The sight of Anakin, backlit by the tree’s sparkling lights, bundled in Obi-Wan’s biggest sweater with pale thighs bare above argyle socks, and smiling at him with open joy—it stole his breath, made him feel a little unsteady on his feet.

“It’s perfect.” He reached up to push a stray curl out of Anakin’s face, and his hand got playfully headbutted in return. “Thank you, dear.”

Anakin went pink at that, ducking his head and busying himself with rearranging the garland on the tree. Obi-Wan felt his cheeks go a touch warm as well. He hadn’t meant to say it so… affectionately. 

Well. Maybe he had.

Anakin tucked in the end of the tinsel and stepped back, surveying the whole picture with arms crossed.

“Looks finished, to me. Whaddaya think?” 

“I’ll have to defer to your expertise. I, ah, actually haven’t had a Christmas tree in many years,” Obi-Wan admitted. 

Anakin frowned. “So do you not have people over for the holidays or whatever?” 

“Not really.” 

“Then, do you usually, I mean...” Anakin looked down, picking at a nonexistent ball of lint on his sweater. “Will you be going somewhere else for Christmas, then?” 

“Anakin.” Obi-Wan took him softly by the elbow. Anakin’s eyes, twin pools brimming with reflected light, caught his and held. “I was hoping we could spend it together. If you’d like.” 

Anakin’s mouth fell open in a soft o. “You mean that? Just the two of us?” 

Obi-Wan’s grip slid down the back of Anakin’s arm, searching beneath his overlong sleeve for his hand. It was warm, and he squeezed it. 

“Of course I mean it.” 

“Then, yeah.” Anakin’s fingers curled around his and squeezed back. “I’d like that.” 

—

On Christmas Eve, they cooked dinner together with a backdrop of snow falling outside the window, dusting the back deck in a fluffy layer of white. 

While they ate, splitting a saucepan’s worth of mulled wine between them (“You don’t eat the orange slices, Anakin.”—“What? Why wouldn’t you?”—“...I suppose you’re right, that’s a silly rule,”)  Obi-Wan’s thoughts naturally strayed to the blackberry brambles, to the frozen dirt, the swirling flurries. 

He looked outside, into the darkness, and then turned to Anakin, his head of curls golden under the warm glow of the evening lights, talking heatedly about—something about peppermint bark—and he was filled with overwhelming gratitude that Anakin was here and not out there.

Anakin’s arms stopped their wild gesturing. “Why are you smiling?”

“No reason.” Obi-Wan raised his glass to hide his lips and found himself inadvertently smiling even wider. “I just like listening to you.”

“Oh.” He was rewarded with a tentative little smile in return.

They ended up on the couch, their glasses topped off, with the fire crackling and the Christmas tree lit up in all its glory.

Obi-Wan wasn’t even sure which movie they were watching, but Anakin seemed to enjoy it. For his part, the mulled wine had gone to his head a little. Perhaps he could rest his eyes, just for a moment... 

When he opened them again, the credits had rolled and the fire was starting to burn low. Anakin's head was pillowed on his thigh, curls carelessly tossed across his face. His breath rose and fell softly and his ears twitched every few seconds with whatever dream he was having.

Obi-Wan smoothed a hand over them until they stilled. He hoped it was a happy dream. 

He would have happily stayed there all night, but his leg was starting to fall asleep. Yes, it was definitely time for them to retire to bed, but he didn’t have it in him to wake Anakin, not when he was sleeping so soundly.

So, very carefully, he gathered Anakin into his arms and carried him up the stairs.

Anakin didn’t seem to rouse, not even when his foot accidentally bumped against the doorway, but he did snuffle in his sleep and curl in closer to his body, probably seeking out warmth.

Obi-Wan thought he might’ve heard him mumble something, right as he deposited him in bed, but he couldn’t make it out.

With Anakin’s face so relaxed and beautiful in his sleep, he couldn’t resist gently brushing his knuckles over the delicate cheekbone. 

“Merry Christmas Eve, Anakin.”

—

The thump-thump-thump of hurried feet running down the stairs was Obi-Wan’s only warning before he had a gift-wrapped box thrust in front of his face. 

“Merry Christmas,” Anakin declared, his eyes bright and excited under sleep-mussed curls.

“You didn’t���”

Anakin practically pushed the present into his chest. “Nuh-uh. You have to accept it. I worked hard on it.”

After a beat, Obi-Wan set his cup aside and took the offered present. He recognized the glossy candy canes as his own wrapping paper. Anakin must have sniffed out the bin hiding under the bed. 

He’d also found the roll of red ribbon, and had tied it into a bow bigger than the box itself.

Obi-Wan set the box on the couch next to him. “I won’t open mine until you open yours.”

Anakin’s brow creased in earnest as he caught sight of the modest collection of packages under the tree. “Obi-Wan, this is too much. I can’t let you—mmph.”

Obi-Wan had brought up a hand to cover his mouth. “Not another word. They’re for you.”

Anakin tried to say something, making the hairs on Obi-Wan’s arm stand on end as soft lips brushed his palm. He quickly drew back. 

“Fine,” Anakin frowned at him. “But it’s still ridiculous.”

Obi-Wan wagged a finger playfully. “If I hear any more complaints out of you, young man, I’ll start taking them back.” 

“But I want them!” Anakin pouted at him, and he had to hide his smile behind his hand.

An almost overwhelming feeling of fondness swelled in Obi-Wan’s chest as he watched Anakin tear into his gifts. He amassed a small pile of mostly practical items— clothes and socks, warm and sturdy ones that wouldn’t go threadbare and leave him shivering. A set of products for his curly hair. A few hobby engineering volumes that came highly recommended by the countergirl at Obi-Wan’s favorite local bookstore. 

Anakin saved the largest package for last. “What’s this, Obi-Wan?”

“Go on, open it.” 

He tore away the paper and stared down at what it revealed. 

“It’s a coffee maker,” Obi-Wan said. “I thought you must be tired of making do with a teapot every morning.” 

Anakin just kept staring. 

“It came very well rated, has all the functions, you can set it to start when you wake up and—” he realized he was rambling. “Is it alright?” 

Finally looking up, Anakin smiled at him. For some strange reason, his eyes were shining, tears threatening to spill over. “It’s perfect, Obi-Wan. Thank you so much.” 

He scooted closer and wrapped Obi-Wan in a tight embrace, his breath fanning warm on Obi-Wan’s neck. Obi-Wan returned the hug, rubbing soothing circles on Anakin’s back. 

Far too soon, they pulled apart. Obi-Wan reached for his little present, beyond curious to see what Anakin had come up with.

Anakin looked to the side. “I’m sorry I couldn’t get more.” 

“Shh, I didn’t expect anything.” Obi-Wan pulled at the bow and opened the box. 

He traced his fingers over the smooth curves and contours of the wood in awe. “Anakin,” he breathed. “You... you made this?”

Anakin started wringing his tail in his lap, his eyes downcast. “It’s not much, but it’s… well I…”

Obi-Wan clutched the carving tight to his chest. “I love it. Thank you. Although…”

Anakin’s face fell instantly. Obi-Wan’s heart hammered a staccato beat even as he pulled the ribbon loose from the wrapping paper and brought it up around Anakin’s neck.

To their credit, his fingers only trembled a little as he carefully tied the ribbon into a loose bow around Anakin’s neck. Like a flamboyant necklace, or perhaps a, like a collar…

“You are worth more to me than any gift you could give me.”

The beautiful color that graced Anakin’s cheeks made taking the risk of saying out loud what he felt in his heart worth it. He wanted to say more, there was so much in his heart that was aching to be spilled, but before he could speak Anakin was leaning over to grab the Santa hat off the table and placing it on Obi-Wan’s head, the fuzzy brim nearly falling into his eyes.

“Merry Christmas, Obi-Wan,” Anakin said softly, his eyes twinkling.

Joy bloomed in his chest. “Merry Christmas, Anakin.”

[2manyfandoms2count]

I love you (not) - Chapter 3

@marichatmay's prompt for today was "dirt", which legally requires Chat to eat dirt, right? Anyway, that happens. His brain is a little distracted, you see. Hope you enjoy!

First | Previous | AO3 | Next

---

Chapter 3: In which the universe might not be working against Chat breaking up with Marinette, but the author sure is

This has gone too far , Chat thought as he marched determinedly towards Marinette’s skylight. However fun lunch at her parents, and then their little movie hangout had been, he couldn’t let this… “relationship” go any further. His speech had been stalled enough, by a whole week and a half, and not entirely because of him; sure, he’d procrastinated it a little, but Nathalie and her zeal for filling his schedule were the main culprits, as well as a couple of ill-timed Akumas and last-minute Kitty section band practises. It was like the universe didn’t want their budding romance to end.

He pushed the thought aside. There was no romance between him and Marinette, or at least, not on his side. Which is why he needed to talk to her: he needed to prevent her from getting too invested in their relationship. She’d only end up getting hurt, and he would never forgive himself for it.

But what if she gets upset now ? A little voice piped up in his head. He came to a halt, and traced back his steps. Then you’ll be there to protect her from the butterflies , the reasonable part of his brain chimed in . He turned around and started walking again.

But what if that doesn’t work? Will you be able to fight with the knowledge that it was all your fault? The first voice nagged again. Yes, since I’ll be able to fix it. Ladybug and I will do what we usually do and save her.

He paced the balcony as the figurative angel and demon bickered on his shoulder, both making fairly good points as to why he should or should not break up with her.

It’s not a real relationship, just ghost her, she knows you have other stuff to do.

That wouldn’t be right and you know it.

What if this is a bad time, though?

But what if this is a good time?

His dilemma was so loud that he didn’t think about what it might have sounded like for Marinette, if she was in her room. His indecision was getting so infuriating that he stopped looking where he walked. Why was this so difficult?

What if you stopped being stupid and realised that you actually like her? The thought blindsided him, and not just because he could have sworn that it had been formulated in Plagg's voice. It caused him to miscalculate his next step, and before he knew it he was tripping on a potted plant.

Both him and it came crashing down with a loud thunk and a yelp, and he realised with horror, as he scrambled to his feet, that the plant it had contained not only had its roots out, but that it had landed right under him, and didn’t look too healthy.

“Crap…” He shot up and tried to repair his mistake, but soon realised the pot had broken in its fall.

He looked around him to see if there was a spare pot lying around, but failing to spot one, changed his strategy. He started pushing the earth into a neat pile to cover the roots and also to make sure the balcony didn’t look too messy. He wondered if there was a flower shop, or any shop where he could buy a replacement container nearby, and if maybe he could just pop out before anybody noticed, what on earth could he even do with all this-

“Chat Noir? What are you doing here?” Marinette had cautiously peeked out of her skylight when she’d heard the commotion, anticipating an Akuma and trying to figure out what to do if there was indeed one, and had pushed it all the way open when she’d realised who it was who’d been lurking on her roof.

Chat Noir panicked as he heard her voice, and did the only logical thing that came to his mind to get rid of the mess: he took the handful of earth he was holding, and shoved it in his mouth.

“No, Chat!!” Marinette voiced the thought that his brain deigned to formulate just as he tasted the dirt. His eyes widened and he spat it out, barely registering Marinette hopping out of her room and coming to pat him on the back to help him. “What on Earth were you thinking?”

“I don’t know,” he wheezed.

“Hang on, I’ll get you some water.” She disappeared through the trapdoor and was back before he could put his escape plan to action. It was just too embarrassing to stay.

He gargled the contents of the glass and spat it out, wincing at the... green taste that remained. There was no better adjective for it. He supposed it was well deserved.

“I’m so sorry,” he said, looking at his feet sheepishly.

“For what?” Marinette asked, before her eyes landed on the plant. The lack of pot and her frantic attempts to help him had destabilised it, and it lied horizontally again. The colour drained from her cheeks. “Oh. Uncle Wang’s Magnolia.”

Chat winced at her worried expression. “Can I do anything to help?”

“I think I might have a pot downstairs that I can replace it with. I just need to be discreet, if Maman finds out that it survived its journey from Shanghai, but that it couldn’t survive a day on my balcony…” Marinette nervously chewed on her bottom lip.

“She’d be rightfully annoyed.” Chat nodded. He felt his guilt pink his cheeks.

“Okay, here’s what we’re going to do…”

Chat Noir wasn’t sure involving him in a plan was a great idea after the mess he’d made, but he followed Marinette’s instructions nonetheless, anxious to repair his mistake.

“There.” Marinette rubbed the dirt off of her hands when they were done with a satisfied smile. There was still tension in her shoulders, though. “I think I might have to hide it a little for the next week or so, just so she doesn’t notice the wilted leaves, but it should be okay.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, don’t worry.” She relaxed a little as she saw his pleading eyes. “Anyway, you literally preferred to eat dirt rather than answer my questions, what brings you here?”

“Oh, erm, I needed to talk to you about, well, erm… us.” Chat twiddled his thumbs awkwardly.

Marinette froze. She’d looked out for Chat Noir during the days after their “date”, and had been relieved not to see him around. She’d prodded the topic slightly as Ladybug, and given his lack of response, she’d concluded that Chat had given up on their relationship, and had filed the whole ordeal in a “we’ll laugh about it someday” part of her brain. She’d thought that the next time she’d see him as a civilian, they’d be back to normal. She realised that she might have been a little too prompt in moving on.

Chat noticed his friend tense up again, and decided he couldn’t go through with his plan. Hey, I came to tell you that I don’t love you and that I’m breaking up with you - and by the way, I almost killed a plant that came from half a world away. Bye! Really didn’t sound so great.

“Us?” Marinette prompted.

“Yeah, us.” Chat shook away his thoughts. “I, er… Realised that I haven’t been in touch much recently, and I wanted to apologise.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve been really busy too, so, I understand.” Marinette smiled sweetly. It did sound like her kitty to not ghost a girl, and maybe this was the moment he would give her a little speech about how packed his superhero life was, and that he preferred not to keep her waiting and-

“Maybe we could get coffee sometime soon?” Chat blurted.

“Coffee?” She tilted her head, her smile tensing a little. What are you up to? The exit was right there!

“If you like coffee? Tea’s perfectly fine, too, or hot chocolate. Or a coke, or anything. My treat.” He patted her shoulder. Why do I sound so awkward? he cringed inside.

“I guess that would be nice.” Marinette blinked a couple of times. “Shall we set a date now, or…”

“Yes! A date! That’s it! The day after tomorrow? 5pm?” I need to calm down, Chat smiled tightly.

“That works for me.” Marinette eyed her partner cautiously. He seemed overly excited. Had there been something in the earth? Should she call some kind of medical service? “Did you have a place in mind?...”

Chat Noir paused. He didn’t go out enough to be able to recommend a café off the top of his head.

Marinette saw his hesitation, decided he was probably more flustered than poisoned, and decided she should probably help him out with his invitation. “I heard le café des chats was quite cute, it’s not too far away… If you’re not allergic to cats.” She added with a twinkle in her eye.

“That sounds purr-fect!” Chat grinned. “Right, so now that we’ve got that settled, I guess I should go.”

“I guess so.” Marinette smiled. “See you soon, then?”

“Yep, later, Princess! And sorry again about the Magnolia.”

She waved his concern away and then leaned on her balcony railing to watch him vault away. Her smile fell when he’d disappeared from her sight, and she realised what she’d just agreed to.

A real date. In a café. With Chat Noir.

This is going too far, she thought as she hid her face in her hands.

[elliethesuperfruitlover]

Midnight Snack

A/N: I can’t get enough of this man and I got an idea for a good smut fic and here it is.

Warnings: smut, oral sex (fem! receiving), fingering, dry humping, squirting, wet dreams, soft rob

  You and Robbie were tucked into your humble abode because of miss rona, and the two of you were quite comfortable. With him doing work for the Earth Locker ™ , and you trying to relax and not watch too much news, you’d been kept quite busy and the chinese takeout containers were stacking up day after day. Rob is a bit of a hippie, but even he was getting tired of the same old ass routine, and he’d started meditating more, and spending less time with you. You’d sleep together in your bed every night and mumble greetings every dawn and dusk, but you were growing apart. It wasn’t a problem with the relationship, it was a problem with the fucking world.

  However, you had a plan for that.

  You’d braved the outside world and went to the grocery store, avoiding the angry Karens and missing toilet paper aisles. You picked up some italian themed food because it was a comfort for the both of you, and you threw salad materials into the cart because eating broccoli with brown sauce for weeks on end can send anyone on a rampage of high blood pressure. You’d thought about buying condoms, but you had some at the house, and who wants to have sex while in a food coma? Back at the house, you cleaned all the ingredients and started prepping the food. The lettuce was taken apart leaf by leaf, rinsed, then thrown in the bowl, along with the sliced radishes, carrot, and you even made homemade croutons because why the fuck not. Robbie’s been quite busy, staying outside most of the day, having one of his longer meditating sessions. Soon enough, once the vinegar dressing had been poured heavily over the salad, you placed it in the fridge to chill.

   Next, you started prepping you chicken titties (im sorry i had to.). They got a quick thaw and rinse, and you seasoned them with salt, pepper, basil, and Italian seasoning, and tenderized them until they were ready. Those were also placed in the fridge to marinate until you were ready to cook them. After that ordeal was finished, you fetched a glass of red wine, as you were preparing to make a chocolate cake, and baking was not your forte. You got the eggs, milk, vanilla extract, and vegetable oil into one bowl, mixed well, and got the mixer out because the wooden spoon was not cutting it. The dry ingredients came together a little easier, and the flour decided to make its way into your hair and your face (like something else which is a lot less dry), but you gave it no mind as you were gonna shower for dinner later. Everything was poured into the pan, and put it in the oven to bake while you were getting the chicken ready to be sauteed. You were proud of the work you’d done, and you polished off your glass of wine.

 “Hi honey, whatcha cookin?” Robbie said, entering the kitchen, and hugging you from behind, as you inhaled his scent, masked by the sweat of his session.

“Dinner, I got really fucking tired of chinese takeout, so I got a little somethin’ somethin’ cooking in the oven, and chicken boobies.” you said, turning around to kiss his lips, him sighing against you. His arms wrapped around your waist, and yours lingered by the small of his back. His tongue glossed against yours, and you moaned lightly, letting him take over for the time being. You touched upon his back, and he arched into your touch, and he humped against you, turning you into the counter, deepening the kiss. You broke off the kiss when Robbie started moaning louder, getting closer to his climax. A line of saliva was between the two of you, and his eyes were blown wide with lust.

“Well, I’ll get the frosting together for the cake, and you cook the chicken and boil the noodles. We’ll be finishing this later.” you said, hopping off the counter, and swaying your hips while grabbing the fettuccine from the fridge.

  Robbie smirked at your comment, and turned the heat up on the skillet on the stove, ready to get the meal over and done with so that he could get his dessert early. The two of you worked quickly to get the food done, dumping the pesto in the noodles, then the chicken, frosting the cake with delicate precision. The two of you shared a bottle of wine, white this time, after taking a special shower together and steaming up all of the mirrors in the house. The two of you dressed modestly for dinner, the both of you in sarongs, only Robbie wore a shirt, and you decided to put on a bra because you were still hot from the earlier frolicking. The two of you ate slowly, savoring the meal, and your time together. Quiet, gentle jazz played in the background, and birds chirped to each other outside. 

  “I love you, I want you to know that.” Robbie whispered, stopping you from putting the chocolate cake in your awaiting mouth. He looked at you with endearment in his eyes, wanting, no, needing the same to be told to him.

“I love you too, Robbie. Just took me a while to say it, is all.” you stated back, looking into his eyes.

  Soon after that, the meal finished, and the two of your worked in comfortable silence while doing the dishes, working assembly style. You two watched some Queer Eye before bed, sparking you to think of possibly picking up repainting your house. The two of you fell asleep at around the same time, Rob’s arms wrapped around your torso, his chest to your back. His dreams actually were calm that night, but yours were not. You had the wettest dream of them all. Beautiful, erotic, hot wet dreams are rare. That one, though, you’d always remember.

  Robbie was touching you, just like in the kitchen, but it was much more real, oddly. He moaned in your ears, grinding his dick into your ass crack, humping you quickly and harshly. You both were loud, very loud, you could feel the counter shaking. Robbie turned you around, wrapping your legs around his waist, fucking you as hard as he did when he finished Season 2 filming. He came home with his pants already off, dick stretching his black boxer shorts. He got you against the wall that day, and the couch, and the kitchen island, and the pool, and the floor. He wanted to fuck you until you couldn’t walk or talk. 

You didn’t for two and a half days.

  Now, however, while dream Robbie was fucking you into the kitchen counter, actual you was having a nice self-love session in your sleep. You’d gotten the covers off your body, revealing your hand beneath your panties, rubbing along your clitoris, applying just the right amount of pressure. Along with that, your knees were bent, and legs were spread, and you humped the air, arching your back with each thrust. You also began to moan, but that didn’t wake Robbie. He woke from the change in the bed shape, you were moving slowly, but harshly at the same time, making quick work of yourself. He woke up to you grasping the sheets in your hand, pulling them. He smirked, but slowly moved until he was positioned in front of your pussy, your hand not giving him a clear view. He kissed along your thighs and legs, leaving little hickies in his wake. You convulsed in your sleep, getting closer, but he wouldn’t have you cumming before he tasted you. 

  He pulled your panties from your body, holding them against his nose, taking in your arousal, in peak condition. He placed those on the sheets he previously occupied, for future use. The cold air halted you, and Robbie blew cold air onto your sex, causing you to wake up and look down to see his curls touching upon your thighs so delicately. The very thought sent you flying, thrusting your hips to the air. Robbie watched as your clit pulsed, swollen, waiting for attention. His hands went around your legs, moving them apart, to reveal your beautiful, pink pussy, waiting to be eaten. He gave it a lick to test, the tip of his tongue barely brushing against you. Your breathing was quite heavy, and he went back in, ravenous.

  Robbie’s lips touched your pussy’s, forcing a strangled moan from you. His tongue moved to your clitoris, giving it kitten licks, knowing where you wanted the most pressure. You put your hands on his head, ready to send him in the right direction. He pushed you closer to him, his tongue meeting your hole, giving it quit a broad lick, sending you panting for air. Rob slurped what you’d freshly created for him, his chin already glistening with your juices. He dove in, his nose nuzzling your clit, his mouth right where you wanted it. He gave licks in quick succession, creating a very lewd, wet sound. He grunted against you, as you’d decided to push his head further, and he liked the pull on his curls each time he attacked your sex. You were thrusting lightly against his face, using him how you wished. His hair was against your pubic mound and your thighs, adding to the feeling of pure euphoria that he was giving you.

“Robbie, I- oh goodness!” you choked on your words, as he’d inserted a finger into your birth canal, and he thrusted it in and out, letting it gather on his finger while kissing and nibbling your clit, then taking it out to lick it off like frosting from a cupcake. He added two fingers, and began grunting against your vagina, sending vibrations through you. Robert started shaking his head against your pussy, urging you to moan loudly, pulling his hair, causing him to moan as well. Sending you over the edge. He still fingered you through that white hot pleasure, then bit your thigh.

What a mistake that was.

    You squirted. Hard. Right into his face and mouth, and hair. He almost came right then and there, as you groped your breast, pointing your toes, yelling his name in praise. His eyes rolled into the back of his head as you squirted onto his face, soaking him thoroughly. He started grinding against the bed, desperate for some type of release. The remaining liquid he licked off of your pussy, and he kissed your thigh, looking into eyes with his emerald orbs, wanting you to be okay before he proceeded with the next step. Robbie quickly got up, grabbed a condom from the side drawer, ripping it open with his teeth, then slid his boxers off. He quickly shoved it on his length, jerking it quickly for reassurance, then he slowly slid into you. You inhaled with him, and soon enough, you became one being.

  Robert thrusted gently into you, his face in front of yours, reaching down to grasp your lips in a beautiful kiss. He hit a spot that always sent him rolling, and broke away from the kiss, moaning and whimpering at the squeeze of your pussy against the intrusion. He started thrusting into your heat quicker, creating a wet squelching sound, one of which the both of you liked the feeling of very much. He hid his face in your neck, his nose pushing against your collarbone. His lips making small kisses underneath it. The pace was getting faster, and Rob was moaning in quicker succession, a sign that he was getting close. You looked past his head and saw his pert ass flexing, the muscle more defined when he pushed into you. That thought alone sent you for your second orgasm, him following you. Your wet tunnel tugged against his cock, causing him to explode into the condom, you seeing his face contort in pleasure, his eyes rolling again. His hair stuck to his forehead, his mouth open in appraisal. You felt his light bush press against you, pelvis meeting pelvis. His balls emptied themselves into the condom, and his toes were curling from the power of his orgasm.

   It took Robbie a while to come along this time. You’d no idea why other than the fact that he’d had a very hard orgasm. You wiped the tears from his face, and you sat him up as you took the ruined condom from his cock, tying it into a knot and throwing it into the trash. He was sniffling from the bed, clearly overwhelmed. You brought him a glass of water, which you had to help his drink, and he was curled into a ball on the bed while you cleaned him, breathing quietly. The sheets would have to wait for the morning, and you cuddled him as he nuzzled his way into your neck, a smile on his lips.

Masterlist

[brideofcthulhu10]

Behold another Lost Boys holiday special! It was between this and Valentine’s day, but honestly I love writing Christmas specials, its such a cozy time despite the high suicide rates, but lets not get into that. A BIG SHOUT OUT TO @imlostinsantacarla FOR HELPING ME EDIT MY FINAL DRAFT!

Fun Fact! My husband, David (yes, that is actually his name) actually does have the bah humbug hat I mention in the head canons. He’s a heavy metal goth so when I found it at the store I had to get it for him. And you just know if our David found that, he wouldn’t be able to resist it!

Christmas with the Boys

Alright, so the whole touchy, feely and mushy feelings that surround even the topic of Christmas time is not something any of the boys will ever openly admit to enjoying. After all, they see themselves as these bad ass brutal killers who thrive off of death instead of holding hands and caroling with the goodie goodies of this coastal town. 

Yet, it's challenging for them not to get sucked into the glitz and glam of the holiday season. Everything is a big deal in Santa Carla. Dia De Los Muertos, Halloween, Thanksgiving- everything! But especially Christmas.

Christmas in Santa Carla dwarfs the frenzy craze of Halloween. The entirety of the boardwalk is decked out with red and green lights that are tightly wound around palm trees, red bulbous bows are wrapped tightly around street lamps, the reds and whites of velvety fabric swirl down the posts, creating the effect of candy canes. All the store windows are painted to appear frosted, or covered with painted snowmen whilst several rooftops are covered with white felt in which mimics the texture and sight of snow. Even the boats in the harbour are all extravagantly decorated in a sea of lights that parade around brightly at night in every color imaginable.

Between the dates of the 30th of November all the way to the 24th of December the city of Santa Carla hosts a plethora of wondrous events in it's annual Holiday Festival. Large green, white and red kiosks are erected, selling a wide range of baubles and treats, from delectable chocolate coated rice krispy Santa Clauses, elf candy apples caked in a plethora of dark chocolate and peppermint, to a variety of Holiday hats, masks and even hand made costumes by the many local artists. Even hand carved candles in wondrous scents of pine, mint, or spice.

Currently, David possesses a black fur Santa hat which he acquired on a night out that boasts the words "Bah Humbug" proudly sewn over the front. It's the only holiday attire he'll even humor. Last time Marko attempted to place reindeer antlers on his head, David had set them on fire roasting atop a pan of chestnuts. Now it's not to say that he's a grinch persay. Rather, the complex and intense emotions that come hand in hand with Christmas can leave him perpetually indifferent at best, disdainful at worst. The whole occasion leaves him displeased. After all, he was an orphan who had been almost eagerly abandoned by his hooker mother left to fend for himself from the beginning, and  of course never met his father. Even she could not identify which of her many clients may have been responsible. Most of his mortal life he had lived as a street rat, barely making ends meet by picking the pockets of tourists and Santa Carla citizens oblivious to the true dangers of the lower side of town. The rich and uppity classes who often snubbed their entitled noses his way would never suspect as he lurks between alleyways, leaving them cornered at knife point. It was scarce that he ever did see a kind face in the sea of those who had little interest for anyone that was not themselves. Back then it was rather uncommon for anyone to step outside their own little lives, which led to most interactions, outside of the other boys, having been met with great hostility, thus he had learned to be just as equally hostile in turn. Even the mere thought of anyone suddenly dawning a false kindness due to a certain time of year simply agitated David. It rattled him to the very core in a way very few other things did. Why bother with the lies? Couldn't people just face the very basic fact that they weren't nearly as charitable as they often deemed themselves to be? I mean, the young man had seen firsthand a family having previously snubbed a dirty homeless man with appalled disdain at the sight of his muddied clothes and dirt stained skin, only to then begin volunteering at a soup kitchen to purge whatever guilt they carried on their conscience once the holiday season began. The whole ordeal was pitiful! Nevertheless, - more so for Paul and Marko's sakes than his own -, he did humor these traditions amongst the holiday's festivities. Ruining a good time just wasn't his style. Unless they started fucking singing.

Most traditions David could tolerate, some he even enjoyed slightly; although he would never be caught dead admitting something as embarrassing as that! However, he just couldn't stand Christmas carols! They were the bain to his immortal existence. The repetitive nature of these overly cheery jingles left him covering his ears lest they nest in his brain leaving him humming the same damn melody for weeks. This was the case because the dynamic duo of dumbasses were well aware of his hatred for Rudolph the Red Nosed fuckin' roadkill! Stupid red nosed abomination. 

“OOOOOOH-,” Paul begins with cheerful mischief.

“Don’t. You. Fucking. Dare.” David seethes through tightly clenched teeth, eyes screwed shut in indignance. 

Paul hesitates. He looks at Marko. Marko looks at Paul. Wicked grins of agreement spread wide like wildfire across their faces as their master plan comes into play. Full throttle. What’s more fun than annoying the shit out of David? One on the left, the other on the opposite side of the cave on the right. This was nothing but Divine perfection if you asked the two troublesome vampires.

“OOOOOH DASHING THROUGH THE SNOW!” Paul belted out at full volume.

“IN A ONE HORSE OPEN SLEIGH!” Marko followed in suit, the widest eerie grin plastered on his face.

“OVER THE HILLS WE GOOOO” Paul howled enthusiastically. 

“I WILL FUCKING KILL YOU BOTH!” David's voice hit a whole new octave it had never in all his life so far. All the while Dwayne had opted to vacate the room lest he be caught in the middle of the escalating madness with Laddie in tow. He loved these guys, but not enough to dive head first into their fuckery.

Paul thrives during the Christmas holidays! How could he not? The food, the punk rock covers of Christmas songs, the absolute babes prancing around the town in Santa hats under mistletoe?! He loved it all! You can find him sneaking under mistletoe with many sweet honeys on a constant basis, regardless of whether or not he's acquainted with them. Most do roll their eyes or laugh it off, but every once in a blue moon the guy will get a little lovin' from a beach babe in the Yuletide mood. What else could he ask for? You can bet he’ll run into the woods December first, and quite literally RIP a pine tree out of the ground to bring home like a wee carrot being plucked from the ground. The bigger the better! He may even drag Dwayne or Marko along with him if it's too big for him to carry himself. And all the boozy drinks he can concoct up? This boy is in his element! Mulled wine, spiked eggnog, candy cane vodka, butterscotch bourbon hot chocolate?! Yes! David straight up refuses to try anything that Paul creates himself (remember the concoction he made in Max's kitchen? Those poor goldfish....) which is also another reason why he has Dwayne help him. Or rather, the other boys insist the most responsible of them monitors the blonde lest he poison them with some sickly brew. That, and the fact that Dwayne's the least likely out of all of them to blow up the damn kitchen!

Dwayne is indeed the designated cook during the holiday rush, albeit a field even he tends to struggle. Avoiding the kitchen catching aflame, perfecting his craft lest he blow up the stove, leaving only a pile of ash in its wake. As previously mentioned, ever since the dreadful chain of events that lead to the unfortunate destruction of Max's kitchen, this raven haired vampire has attempted his hand at learning to use a stove properly: Although he often finds himself forgetting ingredients either in the midst of cooking or after the final product is done and he's taken a big bite. 

“Shit! I forgot the milk and eggs!” Dwayne grumbled with a mouthful of dry crumbs, a true disgrace of a cookie.

Paul always gives him crap for it of course.

“Oooh I just thought you were going for a sandy, dusty dry cookie kinda thing.”

"Yeah man, these taste like ass!" Marko would cough out in midst of choking. 

"And what, like you dumbasses could do any better," Dwayne retorts with a huff. Only Star manages to have any manners when testing his failed baking endeavors.

"Well I mean, the taste isn't that bad. Just a little dry is all."

"At least Marko wouldn't be choking to death." David would mutter from the darkest corner of the room, a little late in the conversation.

In all honesty, Dwayne's biggest motivation when it came to improving his skills was obviously Laddie. The kid never got much of a Christmas whilst living with his mom, so now that he was with the boys, he wanted to ensure that Christmas's were something that Laddie would remember for all eternity. Though granted, it is quite the mess when he was helping in the kitchen. But when the mini vamp grins from ear to ear whilst coated in flour and rapidly stirring an overflowing bowl of chunky cookie dough--the sight is too freaking cute!

Since Laddie joined the boys, they participate in Secret Santa every single year, which definitely includes Paul bursting through the entrance of the hotel as Santa on Christmas day. We won't talk about the fact that each year he almost falls flat on his face and swears, ruining the surprise for the kid. 

"Santa where are your reindeer," he'd question, to which Santa Paul scoffs

"Pff, reindeer, I don't need any fucki- Ow," cut off by a firm and covert kick to the shin from Star, Paul quickly changes his response. "Oh! Ho ho, well, you see little boy, Santa can fly too! On his, uh, uhm… magic motorcycle! Yeah, that!"

But it's okay because Laddie already KNEW (he figured it out a year or two ago after Paul's beard fell off not once, but three times), he just doesn't have the heart to tell any of them because, well Paul really gets into it. And he knows the others are playing along for his sake. But to be fair, Laddie would have to be pretty dumb to believe it was Santa. I mean, the beard Paul's wearing is hanging half off his face by this point! But anyway, just like Paul's style, the entirety of the goody two shoes schpiel is thrown out the window, replaced with sleeves that have been ripped off, muddy boots, spiked bracelets and his Metallica shirt in full view beneath his flared red coat. He calls this BIKER CLAUS!

Laddie is not a squasher of traditions! But there was the one time that David had to intervene when Paul and Dwayne thought it would be great to use Laddie as the star at the top of the tree. David practically had a heart attack. Well, that's impossible but it still felt like he was having one!  

“Ho ho ho! Now, don’t be a bitch, little David or Santa will have to give you coal.” Paul stated mockingly to David, brows furrowed. 

“Well, Santa,” David scolds, a wry smile developing on his face when setting down the eight year old now off to shake his presents beneath their behemoth of a tree. “You best be careful. You never know what's in those milk and cookies, hm?”

Each year Marko buys bird toys for the pigeons in the hotel. Well, buy is probably the wrong word. More like he liberates the stores of their stock. And then for the next six months, David has to hear the agonizing jingle of bells. David almost roasted one pigeon in particular that kept flying over him to drop the ball with a bell in it on his head. That was Paul's entertainment for the next five hours, hell, he'd try to find it if the bird lost it and give it back. Marko defends the pigeon. Between running through stores buying up surprises for his friends, he's helping Paul throw out decorations for the cave. The dollar store has some surprisingly unexpected treasures, allowing him to deck the fucking halls to the max. Tinsel here, ornaments there,  tiny light up trees to hide around the caves, a butt ton of cinnamon pine cones which he ends up throwing back and forth with Paul.

And Paul often steals his gifts or goes dumpster diving for any hidden gems. He forgets to take the tags off of them the majority of the time, which is always an indicator whether or not its new. Any time Star asks where he got them from he refuses to answer. Just gets up and walks away. But for David's gift? Well this lucky bastard has found coal in the dumpster and chucks it to David when he's not looking and he sighs deeply in disappointment because this is the third year Paul has done this. 

 "Huh? What? Who did that? Wasn't me. Somebody's throwing stuff."

Other than that he'll find a fat bag of charcoal and just tape the name David on it. David is certainly not amused. Dwayne will actually try to figure out what the others want, and has the sense to save the money taken from their previous meals. After all, they're dead, they wouldn't have much use for it anyway. He's not about to waste his hypnosis on some poor cashier. That would be a waste of time in his eyes. 

When Christmas did arrive the tree was piled with mysterious boxes crudely mashed and taped together with bows and ribbons underneath it. It's obvious which ones are from Star since those gifts are wrapped in neatly pressed paper, wound tight beneath curled ribbons that remind the boys of her hair. Marko often goes on a food run rather than allow them all to be subjected to a potentially charred turkey, no offense to Dwayne of course. So, with a table covered from end to end with copious bowls of gravy, potatoes, candied sweet potatoes, a beast of a turkey in the center packed to the brim with cornbread stuffing, the boys cram into their chairs knocking back beers and spiked cider. Keeping to their own traditions, after fattening up, they gather around the tree and play card games, just as they had over eighty years ago on that frigid night. David still slays them in poker, and Marko is an utter dark horse when it comes to blackjack. Paul insists they try Go Fish. No one ever wants to play Go Fish. Closer towards the end of the night Dwayne will slip away to Jasper's shrine and bring him a fresh glass of rum as well as unwrapping what he got him that year. While Dwayne is there, the other boys will join him - omitting Star and Laddie left unaware of the Lost Boy they'd never met - in celebrating the last hour or so of the Holiday season with their fallen comrade.

Although Christmas time is often about uncomfortable mushy moments and emotions that create deep, unfamiliar times for David. The entire ordeal becomes that for everyone of the boys and Star. But God forbid anyone who even mentions it! I mean, it's kinda obvious though considering he's spending it with the people he always called family, knee deep in traditions that are sentimental to himself and the boys. There's a fluster of emotions running rampant during this particular Holiday Season, and although the blonde brooding vampire decides to squint at it with skepticism he savors these moments, knowing like Jasper, it could all be swept away with a single ray of light or the foolish hand of a hunter. So as they sit, drunk, full, and laughing beside Jasper's grave he can't help but smile at the sentimentality of it all. Christmas is a pain in the ass, but… it's a pain he'll gladly sit through for his brothers.

[tiggyloo]

Five Months Later

Also up on AO3, linked in my description!

~~~~

Jesse's parents had been shockingly open to the idea of Lake staying with them, even if they were a little...taken aback by the whole "made of metal" thing. Though, if their son could suddenly vanish without a trace and then reappear several weeks later perfectly unharmed, then what the heck. Sure. Metal girl.

Lake had adjusted pretty well to normal life (well, as normal as it could be given her "complexion") and she was happily settled into her own room. She'd been given the guest room a few days in, after it had been cleaned up. Of course, it wasn't for another week and a half that she actually used it consistently. She'd be disturbed by terrors about the train and the Flecks every few nights and would then end up sulking over to Jesse's room, as being next to him would be the only way for her to get back to sleep. Thankfully, he didn't seem to mind.

And now it was December, five months later. Lake had a new haircut (an undercut--and it took FOREVER to find something that could actually give it to her), new clothes, and a phone, which Jesse's parents were generous enough to buy for her. She was truly part of the family now. Lake couldn't have been happier as she played out in the snow.

She and Jesse had helped Nate with building a snow fort that morning, which turned into a snowball fight after lunch (with Jesse and Nate acting as a team, of course. Not exactly fair, but still fun). Nate wanted to build a snowman after that; they ended up making four.

When they were finally done for the day, it was 11:23 PM. Mrs. Cosay had made everyone hot chocolate, and Jesse's empty mug now rested on the floor, while Lake held hers in her lap. Nate had gone to bed two hours earlier, and Jesse's parents had turned in about thirty minutes ago with a "don't stay up too late!" as they left Jesse and Lake on the couch in their pajamas, watching some old holiday stop motion movie.

"How old is this movie?" Lake asked. "The animation is clunky and...unsettling."

Jesse laughed at that. "I guess so. I'm not really sure when it was made, though. A while ago."

"Well, yeah, obviously."

Lake yawned a moment later and leaned against Jesse--a heavy weight, but one he could manage.

The movie prattled on for a while longer, with Lake making offhanded comments every so often until it was over.

“That movie wasn’t worth staying awake for,” Lake said and Jesse chuckled.

"I guess we should go to bed now," he said and turned the TV off. Lake sat up and stretched before hopping off the couch. 

"Sounds good to me," she said as she walked off to the dark kitchen. Jesse retrieved his mug from the floor and left the remote on the coffee table before following. 

When he entered the kitchen, he found Lake sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of the glass door to the backyard. Jesse left his mug by the sink and walked over to her.

"Whatcha doin'?" he asked, sitting down beside his friend.

"Just looking," was her answer, and Jesse gave a nod.

"I never found anything like this on the train," she continued, not moving her gaze from the snow outside. It was a clear night, with the stars and moon shining across the cold blanket of snow and lighting everything up in a sparkling, beautiful blue. It was bright enough to leak inside, casting a glow over the tiles that mixed with the lamp light from the living room.

"I didn't get to see the snow very much when I was stuck in the mirror realm, either. I'd get a lucky glance if Tulip walked past an icicle or something, but… Well, there's not a lot to reflect when everything is covered in snow, ice, and frost."

Jesse looked at her and saw that she was still staring outside, seemingly lost in the view. He expected her to look angry or upset, as she usually does when she talks about the train, but he only saw content on her face, the snow sparkling off her metallic skin.

Lake caught his gaze and he smiled at her.

She rolled her eyes and looked back outside. It was back to silence for a few minutes as the two watched the twinkling snow.

Then Lake silently grabbed Jesse's hand and he turned to her once more. This time, he saw her looking in the opposite direction; enough of her face was still visible that he could see her blushing.

He decided to look away and not bother her.

Soon after, he felt eyes on him and he glanced at Lake, who was watching him quietly. She looked embarrassed and almost... shy , though Jesse couldn't begin to understand why. Lake wasn't exactly the shy type . Not by a long shot.

She held a little tighter onto his hand.

"...Hey, are you okay? Is something bothering you?" Jesse finally asked, starting to look concerned over her silence.

Lake jolted and quickly looked away, eyes wide. Oh, geez, had she zoned out? How long was she staring?

“Uh, Lake-?”

"Nothing!” she cut in and immediately made a mental note to kick herself later.

She cleared her throat. 

“S-sorry. I’m fine.”

The fingers of her free hand drummed against the tiled floor. She could feel Jesse’s gaze on her.

She just walked herself into a corner. Great. Well, now she had to turn around and answer to the concerned eyes boring into her head. She sighed.

“Jesse, can I...ask you something?”

“Go ahead.”

“Uh...c-can I...um-”

She tried to get the words out, failed, and eventually groaned, running her free hand down her face. Why’d she have to start on this? This was a mistake.

"...Can you what?" Jesse pressed and Lake gave him a sidelong glance before dropping her hand and taking a deep breath .

"Can I, ah…um...can I…k-kiss you…?"

The last part was so quiet that Jesse almost didn't hear it. Almost .

Instantly he felt his ears burning with a blush, which got a disapproving look from Lake. She took her hand away from Jesse's and shoved both in her lap as she scowled at her feet.

"I-I shouldn't have said anything, just. Just forget it," she grumbled. "It was a stupid thing to ask."

"N-no! No, I'm sorry-" Jesse said, rubbing his burning cheeks. "I just wasn't... expecting something like that, is all. I mean--I wasn't expecting something like that from you . That's not to say it's a bad thing, coming from you! Uh-" 

He stopped rubbing at his cheeks, dropped his hands, and let out a long sigh to allow him some time to get his thoughts together.

"Yes."

Lake flinched up a little straighter and dared to look up at her friend. He had an amazingly stupid look of embarrassment on his face, one that was worse than her own.

"...Yes?"

He nodded.

"Are...are you sure?" she asked. "I know I, kind of came out of nowhere with that...I didn't mean to put you on the spot--"

"I'm sure," Jesse interrupted. Lake looked at him and saw one of the sweetest, most genuine smiles she'd ever seen on his face. That, of course, only made her blush worse (if that was even possible at this point).

“...O-Okay.”

She squeezed Jesse's hand and, after a few seconds of hyping herself up ( it was far too late to back out now , she told herself), started to move closer.

Jesse met her halfway, and the touch caused a squeak to escape her. God , this whole ordeal was so embarrassing. Absolutely horrible .

A few moments more and the two separated. Lake blinked a couple times and looked at Jesse, who seemed to be thinking.

"...You kind of taste like iron," he eventually concluded.

Lake let out a scoff and gave him a hard shove.

"What did you expect? I'm metal !" she said, crossing her arms in mock offense.

Jesse just laughed and leaned back on his hands.

"It was nice, though."

Lake snorted. "What, that's it? That's all I get? 'Oh, that was nice. But it could've been better’," she said in a mocking tone, followed by a smirk as she added, “Well, I didn’t have the benefit of practicing in a mirror.”

Jesse pouted at her teasing, which was replaced by a grin when Lake playfully punched his shoulder.

“Uh--okay, we should go to bed,” Lake said, running a hand through her hair. “I don’t wanna risk getting caught by your mom. She’d have a fit if she knew we were still up.”

Jesse stifled a laugh and said, “Good idea. I’m pretty tired anyway,” before standing up. He offered his hand to Lake and she gave him a look in return, which caused him to retract his hand.

“Right, right. You’re heavy,” he said as Lake got up.

“Too heavy for someone that’s apparently half asleep ,” she corrected, stretching her arms above her head.

Jesse went and turned the light off in the living room, while Lake leaned on the wall beside his bedroom door with her phone’s flashlight illuminating the hallway.

“You know you don’t have to wait for me,” Jesse whispered as he came up and opened his door. He reached around the frame and flipped the light switch before turning back to Lake, who’d pocketed her phone.

“I just wanted to say ‘good night’,” she said, then paused. Another second and she pulled Jesse into a hug, the suddenness of which getting a grunt out of him.

“W-what’s this for?” he asked as he freed one of his arms.

“I don’t want you seeing the stupid look on my face,” Lake stated plainly, her voice muffled by his shirt. “Give me a minute.”

Jesse grinned and did as he was told, tapping his index finger on his friend’s back.

“Can I tell you something?” he said and Lake made a sound of acknowledgment. “I... probably would’ve asked if you didn’t.”

Lake groaned and hit her fist between Jesse’s shoulder blades. He assumed that meant “not helping”.

After a few more seconds he felt Lake start to rock back and forth a little before finally pushing off of him.

“Okay, I’m good. Don’t--mention this to Nate or your parents.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Yeah, you better not,” Lake said before turning around. “Okay, see ya’ in the morning.”

“Good night!” Jesse yell-whispered, which got a half-wave from Lake as she entered her room.

She closed the door behind her and leaned against the painted wood. “You’re an idiot,” she grumbled to herself, but at the same time, she couldn’t help but smile.

Okay, maybe the movie was worth staying awake for after all.

[cabin-fever-bang]

Campfire Stories (Vol. 1)

Welcome to the Cabin! We proudly present the first edition of Campfire Stories: your one-stop shop for quality quarantine content. 

We’re going to do these regularly, with in-depth reviews of everything that’s been submitted as a prompt fill and additional recommendations from the masterlists of writers who get involved. 

If you’d like to be one of those writers, just follow us, comb through our prompts, and be sure to tag us when you post! It’s that easy. We welcome all fandoms and pairings. 

This batch of reviews was cooked up by @thoughtslikeaminefield​ (MJ), @there-must-be-a-lock​ (Lou), @itmighthavebeenintentional​ (Val), @fangirlxwritesx67​ (Viv), @cracksinthewalls​ (Bri), and @mskathywriteswords​ (Kathy), but we encourage you to pass along the random acts of writer-love and reblog with your own additions! 

Pull up a seat, toast a marshmallow or two, and settle in for some excellent reading material.

Choices We Make - @becs-bunker​ - GIF prompt submitted by  @dawnie1988​ 

Pairing: Demon Dean x Female Reader

Warnings: angst, brief threat & violence, smut, language, dub con-ish, unprotected sex, orgasm denial

Words: 1374

Everyone loves a Demon!Dean fic, and this is a good one! Lots of action, lots of angst, and some really hot, awful Dean.

Honestly it all felt like some surreal nightmare you couldn’t wake up from. You just wanted Dean back, your Dean.

These lines summarize both the Demon!Dean story arc and the narrator's frame of mind so well, pulling the reader right into the perspective of the story.

“I missed you, y’know?” Dean sighed, and the naive part of you wished he was telling the truth. That somehow, deep down, he still loved you.

This is heartbreaking because it's relatable, because the author does such a good job with the narrator's voice.

Dean licked his lips and there was a familiar hunger in his green eyes that made a whole different sensation rise in your body, and it wasn’t fear.

I'm not going to quote any more lines from the story because the author has written one hell of a twist, but trust me when I said, I gasped out loud reading it. The rest of this story is an absolute roller coaster, well worth the ride.

- Viv

Come For Me - @fangirlxwritesx67​ - image prompts created and submitted by @idabbleincrazy​

Pairing: Sam Winchester x female reader 

Warnings: smut, canon level violence, fingering, first time together

Words: 3100

First, let’s talk about this aesthetic. It’s soft and beautiful, but stark and needy. I love the quotes and photos, the way they flow together. Fantastic visual prompt. "Sam Winchester?” He spoke in a theatrical, mocking tone. “Ooooh, I’m frightened." This line made me chuckle. I love the idea of what’s ahead of us. The bad guy is built up in a hilarious way. Sam is presented through the heart and mind of the narrator, you. But thinking of Sam suffused you with a warm confidence. Not for one moment did you doubt him. This confidence is contagious and warming. Meanwhile, the anxiety over the vampire lurking somewhere else, waiting to taste you… it builds in a beautiful and believable way. There’s a rush of emotions as Sam rescues you, and he’s patient and kind, even while making jokes and being the Sam you know and love. Things progress, and there’s a beautiful and sweet (okay, and hot!) sex scene, with a first time between Sam and you. All in all, a really solid piece, with some story, some tension, some sex, and a whole lot of sweetness.

- Kathy

A New Day - @becs-bunker​ - image prompt created and submitted by @there-must-be-a-lock​

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Reader

Warnings: fluff

I’ve not reviewed an image prompt before, so let’s just jump in. The first word that jumps to my mind is light, but I love how suffused and golden the whole image is. Softer, safer, intimate. There are little pinpoints of light, rays of light, shining light, and the whole thing makes me feel...well...light. Sunrise and candlelight, new day, new beginnings. 

The images chosen for Sam, the angles and features we get, are such close, personal angles and shots, giving us this tender atmosphere and setting the tone for this story: personal. Everything you're about to read is intimate, personal, and private, in such a lovely, delicate way. 

The curtains in that first shot are so filmy and ethereal, and the whole story feels like it’s set in a kind of golden-hazed forest. And, let’s face it, any sort of vacation for a Winchester is a kind of fairy tale. 

I’ve managed to stay pretty much above the brow, so Imma have to dip down for a minute and just drool over Sam’s trapezius muscles. Oh. MY. GAWD.

Golden, glorious, graceful, and just a touch of gooey. Good, good, good.

So, right off the bat, let me tell you that this story is everything I’ve ever wanted for Sam, like everything the show and Chuck and the universe has ever denied him. He’s rested, he’s comforted, he’s bathed in glow (the sun, the reader’s love, all that jazz, you know?).

And then it goes and hits all my camping weaknesses. I was literally just telling someone how I’m missing my camp more than ever now. It’s been eight years since I’ve been, and this story brings back all those feelings of serenity and calm, voluntary isolation with people you more or less chose, because camp was and is my forever real home.

I know that seems a little rambly and off-topic, but the thing is, that’s what this story is for me. They aren’t at the bunker, their “home,” but they’re still home all the same, because (and, yes, you can shoot me for this) home is where your heart is, so this wonderful little cabin in the woods is home, whether they’ve been there together once or a hundred times because Sam.

And then that bit of sugar tossed in at the end...Oh, this story was good for my soul. “Warm mug of coffee on a chill morning, under a blanket” kind of good for my soul. 

It’s one of those where I would love to have so much more of these two, of this warmth between them, but I also am perfectly content to know them just in this one perfect moment forever, before the day starts, when everything is still in the “it’s about to happen and it will be great” stages. The beginning of a great new day.

Thank you. I needed this story, now more than ever.

- Val

Crash  - @myinconnelly1​ - requested by @adoptdontshoppets​ for @idreamofplaid​ aesthetic

Pairing: Dean Winchester x reader

Warnings: smut, fluff

Words: 810

The first thing that draws my eye in the aesthetic is the linked fingers. I love pinky links (I’m sure there’s a less cutesy way to say it, but I like it; sue me). They’re sweet, and really personal. You’ve got super tough Dean Winchester who isn’t embarrassed or afraid of intimate, goofy gestures. In fact, I feel like that would one hundred percent be Dean in a relationship: Dean is a giant ball of goofy, intimate gestures. 

I love the choices of relaxed, bearded Dean/Jensen paired with the casual, cool color palette immediately set me at ease. This isn’t going to be a terrifying, angsty ordeal. This is going to be calm, soothing, sensual. 

And the roses, the sand, the surf, the candlelight, the pokey palm tree fronds...I can hear, smell, feel every bit of these images. The golden-pink wine...ugh. This whole experience is a trip to paradise.

I love how all five senses are emphasized and made equally important. It gives us so much more connection to the moment, makes it that much more intimate. The constant crashing of the waves in the background; the bittersweet chocolate; the cozy, homey image of the baking-wrecked kitchen followed by the much more erotic, candelit bedroom; and then the scent of the oil mixed with the warmth and strength of Dean’s touch.

I also love the level of comfort in the story. We have the cookies, a hard-core comfort staple. We have the warm, lazy beach setting. And the easiness these two have together: that’s the dream, my friend. I love how they have no trouble at all communicating what they want and need, how they are comfortable enough to be messy and cute and flirty and sexy, one right after the other. 

And the description is so thorough, I have no trouble at all imagining myself there, in that wonderful, relaxing moment.

This story is relaxing, decadent, soothing, and fun all at once. I am a huge fan of the ending, as well. I was smiling through the whole story, but at the end, I literally laughed aloud. And now I think I’m going to have to excuse myself to go find some chocolate chip cookies. This story gave me a couple of cravings, and as Dean Winchester is in short supply in the real world, cookies are the one I can satisfy right now.

This story is, dare I say it, such a sweet escape. 

- Val

No Sugar Added - @myinconnelly1​ - requested by @fangirlxwritesx67​ - “I’d like to see Steve Rogers from MARVEL sharing Depression-era coping tips. Maybe he vlogs how to make apple-less apple pie.” 

No pairing

Warnings: Spoilers for Infinity Wars + Endgame, mention of mental health issues

Words: 446

This was my prompt for the Cabin, and I loved what this author did with the story! A little bit of fluffy cheer.

“Hello, I’m Steve Rogers.  As many of you know, I’m also Captain America, and I was alive during another time of hard living conditions.” 

Right now, a lot of things in the world seem scary and unsettling. It's one of those times when we turn for comfort to the lessons of the past, to the wisdom of generations, and to heroes. This author does a great job with Captain America, Steve Rogers. His cooking lesson is exactly the sort of inspiring, instructional video I would love to see.

“What is that smell?”  Natasha asked as she looked behind her to see Steve walking into the office with the plate.

Because it was never about pie, apple or otherwise. It was always about comfort. Our favorite foods help with that, and so does Captain America, especially written this well.

There are some fun tidbits in this story, including a peek of history and an actual recipe!

- Viv

Communion - @thoughtslikeaminefield​ - requested by @mskathywriteswords​​ “Fluffy dean or Jensen smoking weed plz, ty”

Pairing: Dean Winchester x unnamed female character

Warnings: marijuana use, high sex, het sex, fluffy smut

Words: 1002

How do I love this? Let me count the motherfucking ways. 

First of all, the way this sucks you into the characters’ headspace is beautiful and subtle and masterfully done. It’s in the sentence structure and the flow of the words; there’s no need to describe their inner state, because it’s written into the movement of the sentences and the choice of words. She doesn’t have to say that they’re high, because you can fucking feel it in phrases like “It’s sending me off somewhere…” or “I shiver at the thoughts careening through my mind.”

Second, this is molten hot, but (as with the best smut) it’s not just some rote story of “then he was hard and we banged and it was great.” The sexy bits are unique; this isn’t the same smut you’ve read a thousand times before. It’s got its own personality and tone and voice that very much belong to this particular story. 

Also? Filth with feelings! My favorite genre! It’s deeply emotional. I am all for smut that is both dirty and tender. This is like a masterclass on how to walk that line. 

It’s such a simple premise that becomes so much more; this has things to say about Dean, about his personality, about this relationship. This takes a very specific moment and uses it as a framework for something big and meaningful. This, for example: 

When Dean has to be big, he uses his whole self. His body takes up space and his mere presence -- he can make the darkest of demons shudder with his presence alone.

But Dean’s natural state is this -- nesting, nuzzling, curled up and warm.

Yuuuup.

Also: 

His hands -- the same hands I’ve seen thrust a blade into the guts of angels and demons -- are tender, fingertips light but persistent as they slip under my tank top and splay over my belly.

It’s so intimate. This is why we read fanfic, right? To feel like we’re close to these characters that we love so much, to delve into the sides of them that we don’t get to see much in canon… this fic feels like something personal and private that we’ve been lucky enough to be let in on. 

- Lou

Deeper Than Deep Conditioner - @fangirlxwritesx67​ - requested by @awesomesusiebstuff​ “The two Sam’s (our Sam and AU Sam) maintaining their hair care routines while quarantined.”

It’s one of those days when I’m feeling too fragile for this world. What’s the best remedy to knock some sunlight into my dark mood? Today, it’s fic -- and one that makes me giggle is a bonus.

This little gem is filled with funny one-liners and side-eye moments to make you laugh out loud:

Dean dreamed of driving away, of bikini beauties on the beaches of Rio. Sam dreamed of scarves and what it would be like to have no bigger worries in the world than his hair.

The look Dean gave him would’ve curdled milk, if there was any, which there wasn’t, because Dean took his coffee black, like a man.

A touch of realism in this bizarro situation got a chuckle, too:

“Sorry, sweethearts,” alt!Dean said, “Flights are all cancelled. A virus or something.”

When Viv named the alternates Deano and Sami, I gave in and embraced the madness. I was delighted with Deano; that’s my own nickname for Dean in my head. But Sami, a most pretentious twist on Sammy? A master stroke. I was tickled.

I was fully on board with enjoying this romp through the bizarro world, but then I was taken by surprise. This little moment, a hint that Sam has been trying to make the best of their circumstances, touched me: 

“Is this really how you live?” said Sami, with a dismissive glance at his paper napkin.

“Look,” Sam answered. “I’ve done my best. It’s taken a lot to get us this far.”

I was prepared for that to be the exception to the rule -- a moment of sincerity amongst a sea of lighthearted fun. And there was plenty of fun ahead of me. The jokes come at you hard and fast in this story! But I realized the mood was steadily changing, and suddenly, I was immersed in sincerity and maybe a little sadness:

...somewhere out there, was a universe where he pampered himself...

...maybe there was a place where he could enjoy something as simple as a deep condition...

...something Sam had wanted to watch but never had time for...

...for the first time in a long time, he caught himself laughing...

I thought maybe that was it. A few moments of Sam learning to appreciate what Sami (I was still laughing at that) had to offer, instead of simply mocking his manbun and scarf (I don’t think I could ever stop mocking that, but Sam’s a better person than I am).

But no. It didn’t end there, and I still wasn’t ready. Before I knew it, I was steeped in Sam’s melancholy, his yearning for a life kinder and gentler than what he’d been given. I was truly heartbroken for him in that moment.

I won’t spoil the rest, but by the time I got to the ending, I was grateful for the funny beginning that softened the landing. I expected a comedy, but what I got really was deeper than deep conditioner.

- Bri

Dear Mr. Fantasy - @itmighthavebeenintentional​ - image prompt submitted @thoughtslikeaminefield​

Warnings: SEASON 15 SPOILERS, bit of angst. 

Words: 2157

I found the image prompt in my Tumblr feed and immediately started plotting ideas that I cannot write bc I have too many fucking WIPs so imagine my excite when one of my all-time favorite fic writers (and one of my very best friends) filled the prompt as a surprise for me!

Val tells stories with a depth and humor like no one else I’ve ever read. Her natural wit and smarts shine through her fictional words as well, and I love seeing glimpses of her in her work.

In one universe, someone neglected Baby (couldn’t have been Dean, had to’ve been Sam) to the point where she pulls slightly to the left. Dean spends the morning after that dream with a muscle tick in his cheek and a suspicious, side-eyed glare for Sam that he never bothers to explain.

Dear Mr. Fantasy is bittersweet. It is soft and rich and full of color — all the senses are here. It’s a sledgehammer of realism wrapped in velvet. And it’s so very Dean.

At forty-eight years old (none of that years young bullshit, either; he’s old, and he’s goddamn earned it)

In the midst of reading canon Dean dreaming of and admiring and protecting his favorite of his AU-selves and that version’s life, we are treated to what it would be like if he was allowed a normal life. Our devoted, brave, warm, and loving hunter as a common mechanic would be just as brave and loyal, no?

“Pretty sure she’s settled on ya, so just make sure you’re worth it.” 

So that’s what Dean did. 

But our Dean — the Real Dean as Chuck says — can’t quite let his guard down even in his dreams of another world, even if that other world is safe as houses. He’s still aware of just how unreal this reality is.

Splashes of indigo and orange paint the horizon, framing her approach in a wash of colors blending into shadows that hold no danger.

Then, he lets himself mingle with that dream, if only for a few moments and it’s bliss.

Older Dean and worn-out, monster-plagued Dean sigh together, content down to their bones. This life is it for both of them. She is it. One Dean still can’t believe his amazing luck after all these years, and the other aches at the simple, total happiness he feels honored to witness.

I love you, she whispers, and he allows himself to believe for one moment that she’s talking directly to him.

I’m not going to spoil anything for you, but I will say that you need some tissues. I cried through 90% of this story, from joy and from heartache. 

Because that’s what Valerie does, breaks your heart and makes you smile, and it is so fucking good.

- MJ

Synesthesia - @there-must-be-a-lock - request by @wendibird​ “SPN, Sastiel, due to all the Angelic Grace Sam has been exposed to over time, he starts resonating with Castiel’s. Especially if Cas’ emotions are running high.”

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Castiel

Warnings: none!

Words: 750

First, I love the song that enhanced this idea for Lou. It lends a tenderness and whimsy to the plot that isn’t inherent. 

Second, Lou’s words are like poetry and watercolor doing a dance of their own making — GORGEOUS phrasing and rhythm.

Cas whirls around, and Sam is hypnotized by the bright blue in his eyes, wide and concerned in a way that makes Sam feel like he’s being lit up from the inside. There’s a floodlight in his chest. 

And, y’all, I don’t even go here, but I swooned SO HARD.

It’s an effort to focus, but when he meets Cas’s eyes, Cas smiles. Sam sees a shower of sparks like the last fizzle of a firework.  

Sam hears it as a flutter of spring green like a new leaf. 

And Lou’s characterization is always spot on, right? But like Dean isn’t even in the scene, yet here we are.

Don’t let the words fool you; there’s a very angry rainbow happening in his head most of the time.

And did I mention the ARTWORK that is this woman’s WORDS?

There are stars under their feet, entire galaxies spinning out around them, dancing spirals of kaleidoscopic green and gold melting into whorls of brilliant blue.

Anyway, please go read. You’ll be flying high for hours afterward. xox

- MJ

Salvation - @dontshootmespence​ - image created and submitted by @idabbleincrazy​

Pairings: Sam Winchester x reader

Warnings: angst, torture, gore, smut 

Words: 1,401

The aesthetics by this artist inspire stories just because they are so well done. This one was a good balance of handsome Sam and some nice suggestive pics along with the phrases that helped shape the action of the story.

This story feels like an episode of the show from earlier seasons, just the right balance of angst and monster fighting with tantalizing peeks of smut and feels. Excellent job!

There are no words that come close to explaining what she means to him. How she saves what soul he has left.

These flashback scenes are both hot and tender. The voice the author  gives to Sam is spot on, achingly familiar.

"You're Sam Winchester, the boy with the demon blood."

It's easy to forget, sometimes, all the things that Sam has been and done, how fearsome of a hunter he is. This story reminds us with razor sharp precision.

When he meets her gaze, he finds the peace he's craved for so long.

The contrast between the flashbacks and the action is painfully good.

What’s more frightening, a man like Dean, practiced in his violence out of necessity? Or a man like him, on the verge of losing everything and nothing left to lose?

This is a well drawn distinction between the Winchester brothers, and such a good characterization of Sam!

"You're safe with me, Sam. You never have to hide from me." 

Such a beautiful relationship between Sam and this woman! It's no wonder he's fighting so hard to save her.

This story has an imaginative plot, fast paced action, some sweet hotness, and such a good Sam!

- Viv

The Second Hand Unwinds - @mskathywriteswords​ - image prompt created and submitted by @there-must-be-a-lock​ 

Pairing: Dean Winchester x reader

Warnings: hurt, comfort, angst

I had a vibe in mind when I created this aesthetic but this went so far beyond anything I could’ve imagined. It absolutely nailed that nostalgic, wistful, antique-photo-album feel, and then it managed to knife me in the fucking gut in a few ways, none of which I saw coming. 

The JOY in the first part of this is absolutely tangible. It’s so romantic and sweet in a very dreamy way that feels exactly like first love. I love the scattered, disjointed imagery around the flowers in the first part, like flashes of memories coming at you all at once, and then when it settles into the narrative it manages to hold onto that dreamy feeling while still moving neatly through the plot. 

This moment was about us, and I wanted to live in it forever. You never gave me reason to cover my body, not that night or ever.

Goddamn right. Ugh, precious and beautiful. And then this:

After so much undiluted time together, I had no idea how to sleep alone. I felt raw waking up by myself, not being able to feel your stubble tickling my skin. 

There’s something about that last line that just grabbed my heart and tugged it in a wonderful way. It’s ACCURATE, first of all; this is one of those super-specific feelings that is hard to describe concisely. I haven’t really thought about that feeling in a while, but that little sentence just cut through so many years and brought me right back in a deep and visceral way. 

You took pride in doing all the things that were never done for you, you’d told me.

Ouch. It’s little touches like this that make this ring true to character even though it’s a very different Dean than we see in canon.

And then that ENDING. 

How do you contain a bomb once it’s been set on fire with grief?

Fuck, dude. Everything about that ending was so painful. I love that she left it raw and messy and not like a simple “welcome back!” kinda moment. 

This was just gorgeously done. Can not recommend it enough. 

Fort - @there-must-be-a-lock​ - prompt by @mskathywriteswords​​ “Fluffy dean or Jensen smoking weed plz, ty.” 

Pairing: J2 x reader

Warnings: blowjobs and weed. 

Words: ~2150

This piece of deliciousness opens with Jensen walking out of the bathroom with a towel on his hips; do I need to say more? I don’t, but I will. After some beautiful description of the blanket fort, we get treated to Jared in nothing but pajama pants. The descriptions in this piece are vivid and full. the way Jared’s hand looks between Jensen’s muscled shoulderblades, thumb stroking back and forth between patches of gold and red light, makes me want to capture the moment and hold onto it. I can see that image in my mind, picture the two of them together, and that’s what makes excellent writing for me. The warnings attached to this piece are fully applicable; the story is very cute and sweet, there’s weed, and there’s Jared and a wicked oral fixation, which in the case of this one-shot means dear Reader, that’s you, get to witness a searing blowjob from one J to another. The way these three interact makes my heart swell, and there’s something about watching the dynamic change between them that really hammers home just how functional they are together. Dive in to this universe, Everything. There are no regrets to be had, maybe only that you waited so long to get wet.

- Kathy

The Gazelle - @thoughtslikeaminefield​ - requested by Anonymous “I’d really love some more Dean x Benny fanfiction, AU, aligned with canon timeline, whatever. I think they deserved a chance and Benny got killed off before it could even be explored :(”

Pairing: AU Dean Winchester x AU Benny Lafitte x unnamed female character

Warnings: power exchange, mmf threesome implied, Denny apparent, nudity

Words: 1000

Let me start with a caveat: I’m in the bag for pretty much any Dean x Benny fic, pretty much any Dean x Benny x person #3 fic, and absolutely any MJ fic. So you could stop reading this review right now and just go read the fic, if you want; in fact, I sort of recommend it, because it’s better than anything I could have to say about it. But if you want to stick around, I promise to be a little more coherent than ZOMGGGG PERFECT HOT SEXY TIMES DENNY LOVE GORGEOUS MORE PLZ!  

Before we even get to the words, we’ve got a gorgeous graphic. Black and white beautiful boys, staring you down with those “I’m gonna fuck you so good” eyes, paired with a sweetly sexy woman tinted with a soft pink; she looks carefree, open to have some fun, and you can imagine her telling them to bring it on. MJ’s graphics are always great, setting the perfect mood for her fics, and this is no exception.

And right from the jump:

Dean and me — we share a lot of things.

We share good music and good drink. Tonight, we’re sharing a good woman.

Oh, this is in Benny’s voice?! Okay okay okay, cool cool cool, I can handle this…

...Dean purrs like a jungle cat as he hovers behind her, hands in her hair, twisting and twirling the silky tresses…

...Dean sets the pace and is the anchor, always. He keeps everything stable and grounded…

And now I’ve realized that I’m going to be seeing Dean through Benny’s eyes -- and no, not cool, can’t handle this -- but I’m definitely not stopping.

I like to mix things up, though, and he lets me.

MJ is a brilliant writer with many talents, but I think her specialty, regardless of what characters she’s writing with, is brilliantly salacious smut that’s steeped in emotion. She can’t help it. Her fucks come with feels, every single time, and I hope it never changes. 

This piece is certainly no exception. Dean and Benny are circling their prey, this unnamed woman, utilizing their individual strengths -- Dean’s encouraging, I’m demanding -- and the sexual tension is building with soft touches and lingering kisses. As the scene is progressing, Benny’s inner monologue is sprinkled with thoughts about Dean:

Times we don’t have a subject, Dean’s focus is on me. I don’t argue and I do not complain. Dean knows what to do with every inch of that long, lean body of his. He knows how to cage a person in, make them feel safe, wanted, fucking needed.

She’s handily building emotion and a personal backstory without an exposition dump, without taking focus away from the action for too long:

His hands move slowly, seemingly random, but I know how focused he is on her and the moment. Giving and seeking pleasure are vital things to Dean and he takes the acts to heart.

I’m immersed in the now of this scene but I also understand the depth of their feelings for one another, their history and dedication to each other, and how they work together to bring another partner into their orbit. MJ makes it look easy, when it’s anything but. 

And then she gifts us with this perfection and I’ve melted into a puddle of emotionally aroused goo:

“You promise to love, honor, and cherish ‘til the morning light, Dean?”

That is a vow of devotion to a one-night stand. What?! How?! Does her brain come up with this?

From there, the scene continues, the action escalating, supported by a framework of realism and heart. Her Dean feels familiar and in character, even though we’ve never seen him in this particular situation. And Benny, we hardly knew ye, but she brings him to life alongside Dean and I buy their relationship completely. I buy all of this, and now I’m invested.

And then… 

“Do it, then,” she says, challenging. “Wreck me.”

My breath catches, my heart starts to race -- yes, here we go! -- a few more sentences, one last connection between Dean and Benny, and then --

Oh, you are evil, MJ. You are so perfectly evil and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

- Bri

[chiimmchiimm]

❝ 𝓼𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓭𝓾𝓼𝓽 !¡ 𝓹𝓳𝓶❞

𝒫𝒶𝒾𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔: Jimingladiator au x (female: Aria)

𝒮𝓊𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎:  Fights between gladiators were the biggest show in Macedoria, the wealthiest city in the Greek empire. Among them they stood out a handsome and strong young man who had no rival. Park Jimin was the most acclaimed for both genders. A spectacular adonis with inhuman beauty. After a brutal fight with the Empress’ brother, she decides to reward him for his warlike achievements, giving him the opportunity to choose whatever he wishes. Jimin is clear and points to the sweet bridesmaid of the Empress. 

𝒢𝑒𝓃𝓇𝑒: smut., offender au, fluff, angst, one shot. 

𝒲𝑜𝓇𝒹𝓈: 7 k  

𝑅𝒶𝓃𝓆𝓊𝒾𝓃𝑔: +18 

𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔: abuse, fights, very violence, blood, sadness, psychological abuse, dirty lenjuage, half-naked, naked, muscles, biceps, cumshots, false rape, hard sex, domination.

𝒜𝓊𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓇’𝓈 𝓃𝑜𝓉𝑒: This story is in the process of writing, the more likes before I upload it. Give a lot of love to the future story !!   

                                                        [✵]

Blood mixed with sand in a battle for the approval of the monarch, this is how the gladiators of Macedonia fought. For his homeland and for satisfying the great emperor Namjoon. The crowd shouted euphorically at such violent acts. That hot afternoon would be marked in history, great for the battle of the millennium, the fight between the general of armies and the great gladiator Park Jimin. The Empress’s brother was a warrior who was tanned in a thousand battles but had nothing to do with the cheetah agility of the great Park. On numerous occasions, I caught my mistress covering her eyes when the gladiator crashed her sword against the metal armor of being James. Mr. Namjoon was another world seemed to be. My lord screamed and exhaled loudly through his mouth when the metallic sounds of the swords reached the monarch box.

“By the gods, how can there be people who like these shows so violent?” I commented to myself as my palm stuck to my chest. My mouth ajar before such a barbaric spectacle. Many times I implore my lady that she will not force me to see the struggles between humans. But since I was only her company lady, she sent me to shut up and I sat next to her. It belonged to one of the best linked in all of Macedonia. The status of my family was envied by many beggars. And yet, I had tied a woman as if my blood was that of a simple maid.

The crowd shouted an excited howl when the great Park finally knocked down my lady’s brother. I rolled my eyes and rested my chin on my chin, I blew the most vulgar. Despite being surrounded by wealthy noblemen and wealthy soldiers, they looked like wild animals when the vein of the struggle was dilated before the blood in battle. I will never applaud such unheard of acts.

Ser James arrived at the sword against Park Jimin with a heavy blow to his pechal armor. The chestnut did not make a single sound, not even moved a span. He screamed and attacked Ser James. Despite having her brown hair stained with sand and grime, she couldn’t deny that the reflection of her strands with the sun was a delightful sight to repair. He was strong, with good arms and muscular legs that widened when he crushed his feet to the ground. He had eyes so penetrating that many said he had the ability to read minds. Not to mention the bulo that his dark irises resucitarian the Rowing himself. They were cheap exaggerations but every legend has some truth and I must admit that this man was the most precious sculpture I had seen in my short twenty years. More than once I had caught whispering my servants over the majestic lips I had. Fleshy and pink perfect to drive crazy who will try them. And I could have if I wanted to, because Park Jimin was an adonis made flesh but also a cheeky and a bad spoken.

I still remember the day, in the main square, when I went for a walk with my company ladies. We met the barbarian in a wildflower stand. The very imprudent approached me as if she were one of my maids and asked me for a kiss. To me! Holy Zeus, I still notice the fever in my cheeks. But the thing did not end with that horrible episode. Another day, I found him in the hallways of the palace while I went to my lady’s quarters. Not satisfied with the florist scene as soon as he recognized me he insisted again. I try to persuade myself by saying beautiful and delicate words in my ear. I pushed him and claimed him for disturbing my personal space. Not content with my disgust I take the audacity to hit a spank in my ass. Park Jimin is the most unpleasantly self-centered person who steps on these lands, and not a donkey sinner if he admitted that of the seven seas.

“Bravo! Bravisimo!” my lord’s wings woke my lady from her trance. The moment the emperor got up, everyone in the square did it with him. They were almost forced to give Park Jimin a good round of applause. I for one could not disagree more. My lady watched with her neck stretched as servants entered the arena and carried her brother, now unconscious, in a cart. All eyes were on the man who waved the sword in the air. Some cheered him. Others sang to him. And a few took their traumatized children. “Come here my champion! Please honor us with your presence!”

He, delighted that his lord filled him with such words of pride. He did not have seconds to approach the box and stick a knee in the sand as a sign of respect. I rolled my eyes, the paripe acted as a prize. He should leave the office of gladiator and dedicate himself to acting in the theater of the Colosseum.

“Get up! Get up!” My emperor asked sharply. Park Jimin obeyed immediately. He stood up showing agility in combat. I hear the heated screams of the maids at my back when the great brazen disengaged the armor and it fell to the ground showing his chest and abs cracked like stone. My lady even covered an excited gasp with her glove. Everyone remained silent waiting for the emperor to finish speaking. “My beloved, how should we compensate for your skill?”

My lady rose from her throne of stone girded with blankets and luxurious fabrics.

“As a reward for such skills and as a reward for having so skilfully defeated my brother. I grant him a universal petition. You can ask for what you most want and we …” I observe her husband with a smile of superiority for his position. “ .. we will grant you what you ask. ”

I paid the same attention as everyone. I was certainly surprised. Never in all the years of history of the gladiatorial struggle had those privileges been granted. Of course, that conceited smiled satisfied. He brought his hands to his hair darker than chocolate and slipped back with his fingers. Clearing his forehead. Letting the drops of sweat that pearl his face go down the column of his neck and end up below his pants. Swallow unconsciously. I take out my tongue and pass it through his lower lip. He seemed to taste what he would say next. There was some boldness in his eyes that yelled at me that I had chosen his desire. I attached my back to the back when he made a brief but decisive eye contact with me.

“I want one night with Aria Taris.”

The screams of the public soon rang in the colosseum. My mind was confused in the middle of a labyrinth with tortuous indecipherable paths. The unwanted part of my head was still wondering if it was true what my ears and those of hundreds of civilians had heard. His sinful smile was the ordeal of my good patience. Supporting me with the golden arms of my big armchair I jumped up. Many looks were put on my person, but it was one in particular that cast my patience.

“Do you think I’m an object, a fighter?” My father is part of the divine council of the emperor. Really, I hope you are playing a heavy joke. ”I complained, in my neutral tone. Trying not to exceed the limits of my good manners. What I lacked now, show in front of many rich insolvent how much I had bothered his stupid amendment. Of course, when he pronounced the word fighter sharply, the smile deepened on his face. They could correct me as many times as they wanted but for me it was that. A brute and animal. A dirty fighter.

“Is that what you want, Gran Park?” The emperor spoke after my speech. Granting you the possibility of making sure your order. In short, I was indirectly asking him to reconsider his wish. My father was my lord Namjoon’s best friend, of course the news had fallen in a vase of cold water. I am already materializing the vein protruding from my father’s neck. I strongly stretched the spine of my throat. Then a winning smile stood out through my lips dressed in red carmine. Park Jimin reached out to comb his hair. I could practically hear the sound of their muscles as they contracted because of the penetrating silence of the spectators. His tongue rubbed his lower lip with delight, leaving the part moist and bright with reflections of the intensity of the sun. Park Jimin looked like a mirage from a story. The reflection of a paradise full of water in the middle of a desert. But that did not take away the egocentric personality.

“It’s what I want, my cesar.”

“But you’ll be insole …”

“Shut up my lady.” My lady ordered in a decisive tone. “If it is what my gladiator wants, it will be his tonight.”

Jimin bowed. The coliseum burned in euphoric screams. My body fell silent against the chair. Desolate to the betrayal of my own friend. From my emperor. They had given me as if it were a toy. But without a doubt, the most painful knife was that of my father’s acceptance. My beloved father The man who raised me wisely when my mother died of an upset side.

My sandals went up my ankles until I finished in small swirls in my twins. My father had forced me to wear the best dress I had. The white cloth and gold belt that accentuated my waist and highlighted my breasts. The maids had left me alone watching my features painted in black ink and blood red. I saw my childhood pass before my eyes. Soon the glass was filled with imaginary shapes and silhouettes. As a child, I used to play near the pond in my garden. I liked to see the infinite colors that decorated the scales of our tents. Beautiful rainbows that gave the crystal clear water an unusual color. As an infant, I gave them names and pretended they were my friends. We talked for hours, even days. Until a little boy took me out of my fantasy world. He never told me his name. All he knew about his identity was that he was the gardener’s son. An elderly and fat man who took care of the garden of tulips and lilies that decorated the wild roads. I never admitted it but that kid with skirts like balloons and a facial smile was my first love.

Where will you be, smile boy?

A melancholy smile decorated my lips. He always caught me when I jumped near mud puddles. I scolded saying they were very expensive suits and that I should take care of them. I didn’t care, all I wanted to do was play and explore the world. Life takes many turns. One day you may be jumping freely through the garden and the other forced to open your legs towards the most despicable man in the world.

“Smile, my girl.” You must impress the Great Park.

I circled my eyes when my father repeated his sentence again.

“That beggar does not deserve or thank you.”

“Aria.” My father’s severe tone stole my attention. “You should know that if Tonight Park Jimin doesn’t ask you to marry, the family’s reputation will be ruined. Please be kind.”

How to forget the tradition more often in these times of strong winds. Every lady should know from her first period that women had a fine cloth inside their bellies that could only be broken once. That did not prevent the consensual sexual act. If your male decided to snatch your virginity you should consider his loyalty. I still remember the scandal of the Demeter family, his daughter, the youngest, contracted the act of making love with a rich nobleman who was dedicated to fuck any woman who opened her legs for him. Poor Sofi was enthralled before her marine eyes and fell into her nets. Two weeks later, Sofi’s father went to look for Marco to meet him with a prostitute wallowing through the sheets. Poor Sofi had to go to a convent because no man wanted her off the hook. I knew my father’s fear because I also processed him. Rumors of tonight’s events would be the main theme in the discussions in the city square.

Mounted in a carriage of white horses led by a man who had sent that insipid fighter. He had the honorable detail of sending for me. He must have sensed that the agreed time was not going to be respected. He had sinned for disregarding his cunning and malice. I could not know the exact time that my journey to his mansion lasted, whether it was minutes or hours, time seemed to pass slowly, being punished by the gods. Hook the nails to the padded backrest when the carriage stopped. The door opened and the air removed the protruding curls from my braid.

“Lady.” The man reached out to help me down, but I picked up the skirts of my dress and came down elegantly. I dismissed his help but the man said nothing about it.

Two more men stood in front of the large wooden door. As soon as they saw me they opened the entrance, leaving the leafy garden in view of my horny eyes. Overwhelmed by the delirious beauty of wild flowers, I dragged my feet, letting myself be carried away by the fragrant perfume that rose through my nostrils. Hypnosis ceased as soon as the doors closed. I fell from the Olympus of my memories landing in reality. The doors of the house were opened by a maid. The girl should not have many years of bedtime but enough to work. My finger touched a sheet of tulip before walking towards the house. I am not going to lie. I was shaking from head to toe. The sound of my sandals by the marbles that covered the floor tipped my skin. But a great painting let my love for art unravel me a little. It must be a Taehyung of Troy. I frowned as I extended a hand and stroked the dial. How is it possible that a simple fighter had a piece as valuable as that? Moreover, how is it possible that his taste is so exquisite and delicate when he engages in acts of violence? 

“The abstract nuances are magnificent, don’t you think, honey?” A voice gasped behind me. Both security and insight was what gave him away. He did not need to face it because his grave bell was unique. Park Jimin stood by my side in no time. Intentionally brushing my bare shoulder with his white robe. He wore his classic satisfied smile. A pretty refined hairstyle to match her gold band. He was dressed so elegant that no one guessed the low origin of his being.

“I am surprised that you have a Trojan Taehyung, being one of the most expensive authors in Macedonia. Tell me, when did you steal it?” Park Jimin, the great conqueror of hearts, could not help but respond with a short laugh. My heavy joke far from bothering him seemed to have pleased him. Although, it was a question cataloged as daring, if I was curious inside to know how I had obtained the privilege of getting it.

“There are many things you don’t know about me, puppy.”

I turned my neck sharply but found no one. His white cloth disappeared through an arched door. I followed quickly. How did he know the affectionate nickname my father called me when I was little?

The large hall was matching its large anteroom. A rectangular table in the middle of the room. Two large burning candles in the middle of the tablecloth, splitting the table in two. There were two plates positioned at each end. Two golden glasses of fine origin and bowls to overflow with bread, exotic fruits and the occasional aromatic candle distributed so as not to overshadow the appetizing smell of meat. Veal with stone-roasted potatoes. My taste buds began to salivate without realizing it. My stomach roared in response. Since the disgust of the colosseum he had not tasted a bite. What lay ahead was the temptation made mirage.

“Sit down and let’s talk.” He offered with his biggest innocent smile. I raised my chin to the height of his mouth. He ran the chair and pointed kindly. Squinting I sat down. He circled the table and took his seat, so that we were facing each other. No escapes possible. Being able to perceive the reactions of the other. He took his cup and placed it high before drinking. My hands that were on my lap squeezed my kneecap as soon as I stretched my neck to drink backwards. His adam nut was moving as the liquid lowered. The glorious sight of his milky neck came to my eyes. When he returned to his position, he licked his lips to clean any wine. His lips stained a more intense color for the freshly savored drink.

“Why did you want me to come?” The question of the night was put on the table. I slid my palms across the tablecloth without touching the plate. I wanted to sneak the sweat off my hands. Park Jimin stopped smiling, for the first time all night and since I met him, he had run out of words. Satisfaction sweetened the mouth of my stomach. I brought the glass of wine to my lips as a reward for my ingenuity. I smiled mighty feeling like Caesar himself.

“It is not obvious?”

The metal brushed my lips when I stopped. I left the cup on the table before frowning.

“I asked for a night with you.” Do I need to go into details, my lady? ”His mockery collapsed the pillars of my self-esteem. Leaning back, he leaned his elbow in the back with grace as he raised an eyebrow. A cramp went down my stomach until it ran into the lower part of my belly. I squeezed my thighs inertia. He had claimed me as his. My most profane fears had come alive. After tonight it would be nothing more than the harlot who was raved by a whim. My hand threw itself against the gold cup. I brought it to my lips as fast as I could to reduce the dryness of my mouth.

“I don’t know why I thought all this was my punishment for making fun of you all these months.” I bragged, while swallowing the alcohol hard. Closing my eyes when the wine filled my stomach. Alcohol was the only thing that kept me from getting down and crying. “But you’re just a damn filthy man who takes advantage of my situation.”

The vessels were thrown to the ground when Park Jimin in an outbound start rose. His fist hit the table, breaking down the few things left standing. The tremor hit my abdomen but I did not allow it to notice. Standing full length waiting for you to speak. Let him answer. It will insult me. Anything but look at me with those eyes so intimidating.

“To my rooms,” he commanded.

As I could I stood up, remembering the coordination of my legs I followed. More fearful than ever. I knew what was coming now. I began to reproach myself for the donkey it had been. To bite the snake tongue that had got me into this problem. He should have let him get drunk until he lost consciousness. Because maybe, I could not have silenced the malicious mouths but had left with pride intact. Time escaped between my fingers. Without being able to avoid it, a tear low down my cheek. I began to pray to all my gods to decide to change my mind. But it was a waste of time since when he opened his door he pointed me inside. His eyes injected into something that deciphers as anger. I bowed my head and accepted my destiny.

The door closes suddenly.

“Go to bed.” I order roughly.

Clutching my dress skirts I obey her verbal threat. Perhaps, if he followed his orders, he would treat me delicately. A white object stood out among the leather sheets. When I verified what it was, my skirt fell suddenly.

“Is it still your favorite flower?” His question shook my vein of longing. A white lily with a short bouquet. The taste of my tears went from bitter to bittersweet. I caught the stem with my fingers to hold it high. Touch the bump with a smile. “I told you I would come back, puppy.”

“You …” with a trembling voice, I turned suddenly. Park Jimin watched me melancholy with his back against the wall. I looked at the flower again and then I realized. Your facial smile His predominant lips. The ability to make me angry with just one gesture.

Boy smile.

“But how…”

“When my father got sick and we left I could not say goodbye to you. I gave a letter to your father even knowing that you would never receive it. I was just a poor child with big dreams. You would never notice someone like me so I did not get frustrated when your father returned the letter to me. I knew it was the best for you, that’s why I left. ”

“Why didn’t you tell me, that time at the florist?” The flower fell to the mattress when I approached slowly. Jimin dodged my gaze leaving her somewhere in the window’s night landscape. I touch my overwhelmed chest. God, I should have noticed. It all took me back to my first love. To my first heartbreak. My first disappointment.

“Would you have listened to me?”

I looked down when he alluded to eye contact. Of course not, I would surely have ignored him.

“I know that cornering you this way was not very noble, I just wanted you to know.” Tearing a sad tone of voice, he moved towards the exit with his head down. His beautiful fingers sticking to the wooden door. “You can go, I will tell Gaspar to take you back home.” I watched the door with longing, however, there was something I longed for most. Jimin followed every move he made, however slight it seemed. My foot was suspended halfway, without crossing the exit. I really didn’t know that I was stopping, but a deep-seated impulse yelled at me to stay. “For the rumors, don’t worry, I’ll personally take care to shut up every mouth that speaks ill of you.”

“Jimin …” I whispered drowning in my own voice. His eyes watched me intrinsically, the darkness of his pupils was so intimidating that he immediately disconnected our eyes. I didn’t know what had been the cause of my unknown anguish. My lips needed to pronounce his name, for strange reason. The bitter need for something you know you should not do but, nevertheless, you do. Jimin induces a wet sound in his throat when he enters nervous saliva. I detailed from the tips of his feet, in brown leather sandals, to the top of his white robe. I was afraid that the captivating curiosity of my control would get more spicy and that map will end up by its strong figure. His hands clenched into strong fists, my eyes were mesmerized by the veins around his exquisite skin. Those life tubes that were marked along his forearm ending at the beginning of his scraped knuckles. In the gladiatorial fights I had taken the privilege of admiring his naked torso, his muscular legs in every jump, and yet I had never taken the privilege of observing his milky hands that surely they should do many things.

“Aria.” Hoarse and needy, Park Jimin caused a strong chill in the lower part of my belly. Still with the attention on his majestic human marks, alluding to how much his dominant gaze intimidated me. Risking me to look like a shameless girl, I slid my eyes to the exponential skin of her neck. A column so strong and consistent, decorated with a restless Adam’s nut every time he swallowed. Red lines marked one end of his neck, I deduced from the asymmetrical perfection that was due to the razors. I bit my tongue when improper thoughts of my pure mind began to marty me with images of a Jimin busy in the mirror, preparing to be more handsome than ever. The fingers of her hand combed her majestic blond hair back, clearing her wonderful forehead. I diverted my eyes a second to his brown hair. The softness that emanated was lost and not found. Used to seeing it filled with dirt by the hustle and bustle in the sand, washing was a spring for a thirsty. Jimin was sin reincarnated into man. A needy exhale stroked her lips as if she had run out of breath. My eyes flicked the innocent eyelashes in his direction, but Jimin did not return my gesture because he had been busy running through my body. Stopping in places where my scented skin was exposed. His tongue licked his lips when they rested on the bones of my collarbone. Sinking my stomach from the feeling so suffocating. At the moment, that Park Jimin returned his eyes to mine, I separated my lips unconsciously. Jimin had looked at me in many ways, but never as dark as that.

“So hard to understand, Aria.” You never let me guess how much you thought. ”His voice lashed out at my flushed cheeks. A hoarse laugh escaping from the bottom of his throat. At this point, my stomach was being mistreated by the flutter of my imaginary butterflies. I slipped my sweaty palms over my white dress. Jimin fixed his gaze on my separate lips. So much play was making me nervous. I was always aware that my emotional control was very popular among the citizens of Macedonia. However, Jimin was the only person who managed to decipher my hidden gloom. When we were children, I never wondered why I cried, I guessed it and hugged me. But those innocent gestures did not resemble anything in front of him. There was something hidden in his words, a proposition so dark that my mouth soon opened when I understood.

“Why?”

Jimin relaxed his chest as he exhaled his mentholated breath through his mouth. I connect his eyes with mine. His final smile destroyed any purity in my body.

“Because I don’t know if you look at me like that because you want me to take you to my bed and fuck you or because you’re just so desperate that you want me to do it against the wall.”

I squeezed my thighs in response.

“I think it’s going to be better for me to go.” I breathed, a deep sigh that cut my breath. So tempting was his voice that the angel on my shoulder almost succumbs to his flattery. I don’t know if it was the duty to comply with social norms, or simply, the fear I had for not knowing what would happen if I dared to stay longer, I ran away down the hall. I grabbed the knob tightly and closed the door. I didn’t want him to follow me because he would end up falling and my pride couldn’t be so easily collapsed. Stopping in the middle of the deep hall, I paralyzed enormously when I heard the sound of the door opening. Turn absorbed, ignoring the consequences. Jimin shot out as soon as he saw me, so determined and so elated, that defenses fell as soon as he caught my lips and stamped me against the wall. There was so much despair in the movements of his mouth, his saliva tasted of longing, a new flavor that prompted me to move my lips. I gave myself the privilege of closing my eyes, enjoying the wonderful sensation of his lips quilting mine. The emotion of need rooted my body like a tsunami, the same feelings with our kiss when we were children, but with different sensations, the heat and sensuality bathed their actions. Letting me drag along his body, his expert hands crawled up my thighs and sat me on the window landing. My hands were disheveled, trapping their wild strands with each suggestive squeeze I gave on my ass. In a push needed, I bring his hip to mine. A trapped lump hit the cloth that covered my intimate area with too much need. Dragged by the sensations of heat, gemi when he repeated that movement. 

“Let’s go to my room.” I plead, separating our mouths to recover some sanity. His breath warmed the skin of my lips, his red and swollen giving me a slight idea of ​​my situation. I really don’t know if it was because I didn’t want his body heat to leave me or because I had dreamed of this for a long time, but when my fingers clenched his hair intensely, Jimin kissed me snatchingly again. He lifted my body with such skill, affirming his sweet palms on my butt that served as support and to give small squeezes when he accepted his tongue in my mouth.

I deposit my body on the fluffy feathers of the sheets. Spread my thighs so that I could get between them, new sensations that caused a groan full of approval on his part. He parted our lips letting our skins rub, one of his hands went up to the strip of my dress. Notice how the dark iris of his eyes returned to normal when tension dominated his body, separate his head from the sheets to trap his lips in a small wet kiss. My gesture gave him the suffocating security of lowering the fabric of my dress. He placed his knees on the mattress to untie the golden threads of my belt, on my side, I admired his excited cloud of pleasure with his hands stretched to the sides of my head. Lifting the pelvis from the mattress to help you. His pupils widened at the pale nakedness of my body, he tasted all that curve that was at his disposal. My cheeks dyed a deep red from the exposure, it was the first time a man saw my body without clothes, but the feeling did not retract me because I knew he would never judge me. He raised his hand to traverse the invisible line that marked my body, stroking my neck in descending movements, the small space between my chest and the sinuous curve of my navel.

“Lovely.” I whisper, before being overwhelmed with a kiss full of lust. Wet and splashing sounds ringing through that alcove heated by the fireplace. I made a fist by welcoming a mountain of sheets when he parted his lips to wander them through my jaw, his tongue skilfully traversed the bone. A kiss on my neck was enough for agitated moans to flow through my lips. His hands climbed the sheets to crush mine. A feeling of helplessness running through my understanding when I wanted to stroke the strands of her hair. He went down on a sinful path, biting at all times to mark me as his. I stood up startled when her breathing bounced with the skin of my chest, I returned to the mattress when her hands held my arms.

“Jimin …” Gemi, splashing a gasp ecstatic by the new sensation. I kiss my skin with a chaste innocent gesture, near my hardened nipple. My legs opened almost completely, alluding to my need to feel him closer. Finally, I end my torture. He pulled out his expert tongue to lick my button, leaving a thread of saliva too insinuating. One of his hands left my trapped wrist to pat my virgin breast, a suggestive squeeze that would cause delusions full of pleasure. He moved to the other when he was served, kissing, stroking, his fingers curled around my nipple to stimulate him. Coming down the skin with all confidence came through small affectionate kisses to my navel, introduced his avid tongue to blow air through his mouth. Believing that his task had been terminated, I could not be more wrong, because later, I continued going down until the impression I tried to get up. His hand acted quickly, resting my palm on my belly to lay me down.

“Quiet.” I whisper, in little hot kisses in the area of ​​my lower belly. His hot lips making faithful contact against my bristling skin, the shame caused me to cover my eyes when he placed his head between my legs. A hoarse laugh hit that exposed area, my cheeks burning intensely under my palms. “Relax, Aria. You’ll like it a lot, I promise.”

Previously, I was not aware of the immense pleasure that a muscle as small as the tongue could provide. The sensation of his skillful tongue against my little flower was the most exciting I could have ever felt. One of my hands ran to grab the sheets, a moan needed callus from my lips. Jimin delighted attentively to my reactions, being a spectator of the way his tongue came out of his mouth to lick another strip of my little hill. My neck fell back collapsed when he left those previous games aside to give way to suction on a red button in the first position. Tasting my body as if it were her favorite dessert, tasting places I had never imagined having. However, my head kept yelling at me that I needed more, a loud lunge for something more than his tongue came to me in fleeting bursts. As if my thoughts were written on the sheets, Jimin used his finger to rub the red button he had been licking, my hands clenched the sheets intensely when one of his fingers interfered with my virgin abujero. At this point, my eyes had been sealed by the endless contractions. However, the complete delirium did not come until two fingers together to slide them slowly. I gasped, drowned in my own breath. On the other hand, Jimin admired how his fingers were engulfed by my dripping jewels, moving him with overwhelming skill and determination. I screamed when a choking knot began to inflate my belly, Jimin licked again with his tongue instantly. My hand walked alone to my legs, piercing the strands of her soft hair, forming a slight fist to bring it closer to my area. A pleased growl bounced off my folds, that was the end of my torment. The knot was undone in small spasms shaking my chest. With my eyes parted with fatigue I saw Jimin separate from my sex. His padded lips stained with my own essence lie his agitated chest and his dilated gaze reacted to my state. Tightening his expression, he undid the knot of his golden belt by pulling on his robe to make way for his nakedness. His sculpted abs, his collarbone marked as a Greek sculpture, his thighs bent with adoration, no doubt, was a Greek god made flesh. My eyes were paralyzed on his huge cock raised with pride, long and thick with the pink tip, my fingers wanted to try to touch it but I was too tired by my recent release.

“You have come in my mouth, precious. Now, let me come, but elsewhere.”

Climbing up my body while catching me with a wild look, I wandered with his pupils as if he were his adored prey. I didn’t take my eyes off his cock until his mouth burned my lips. I bring my hands to my tense thighs to accommodate at will, removing myself uncomfortably when I notice the presence of his cock hitting my inner thigh. I was nervous, I could not deny it even if I wanted to, I had heard some spicy conversation from my service, they had said it hurt, that even if the woman did not relax her flower she could bleed. A small brush of my nose on my cheek wakes me from the trance, I see concern in his eyes. He brings his hands to my wrists to place mine on his formed back, alluding to the fact that if at some point I felt uncomfortable sinking into his flesh without fear. But the feeling of anguish did not abandon my thoughts, my tense legs and my trembling shoulders betrayed me. 

“Everything that happens tonight is not going to get out of here, I swear to you by the gods. Just give me a chance to express everything I love you, let me love you, precious.” His sweet breath wetting the shell of my ear. His voice magically penetrating inside me, growing until it reaches my agitated heart. I turned my face to delight in the brightness of his wild eyes, pulling a hand away from his back, stroking his cheek and sticking his mouth to mine in a light kiss, unhurried but full of love. My rhythm continued with all the tranquility of the world, so slow and so sensual at the same time that my body, little by little, was relaxing before his touch, enjoying the circular caresses that I drew on my thighs. When the tension left my limbs, Jimin got the signal he needed to culminate with our passion. It hurt, much more than any unhealthy blow he had received before. Notice how the walls of my uterus tightened around his cock, sliding with the help of my flows for my previous release, but he was so understanding, he didn’t care how much he wanted to move his hips, he just worried about my comfort, kissing me to stop thinking about the pain and focus on the immense pleasure it would give me. Scratching a descending path down his back as my neck lifted so as not to lose his ecstatic expression.

“Move, please.” I exclaimed, in a small plea as a tear came down my cheek. Jimin, he frowned doubting my sanity, he didn’t want to hurt me. But we had already spent too much time in that attitude and my body demanded more, much more. I caught his lip with his teeth to incite him, under his lips to mine to cover my groans in his first thrust. My nails sank anxiously at the sensual movement of his pelvis. The soft lunges soon became wild at the stimulation of my needy groans. Privileging my beloved flower of such pleasure that I no longer control myself, I began to scream ecstatic when their movements had no control. The pain continued undoubtedly but it passed to a secondary character overshadowed by his kisses through my collarbone.

“You take me so well, you’re so sweet and tight. I love you …”

A stifling scream came out in an involuntary movement when I placed a finger to caress my battered button intensely. His mouth traveled to mine thirsty for saliva, kissing me with unbridled lust that left me at his mercy. I covered my groans with his tongue but he didn’t seem to care, he preferred my taste rather than my cries of beggar. He rose suddenly to place himself on his knees. His gaze didn’t leave mine as he fucked me harder, his playful finger pressing the button with suggestion. My appearance must be a complete disaster, my mouth half open, my chest bouncing for every lunge and my hair scattered on the pillows, but he seemed not to want to lose a single detail. My hip was raised when I placed his hands on my back and lifted my lower part with simplicity. Going deeper into this wonderful position, I closed my eyes when the knot reappeared under my belly, he didn’t have much left, I felt it in the hardness of his limb and in the urgency of his thrusts. Defectively depriving his member of disappearing within me so as not to culminate so soon.

“Come on my cock, baby.” Come on, bathe her with your peach juices. ”He growled, ecstatic at the sensation, collapsing his head back as he attacked rudely. The bright column of his neck was the stimulus I needed to drown in my second sea of ​​perdition. The knot was undone again while my stomach urged violent ups and downs. The feeling of emptiness reached my dizzy body when, without warning, he pulled his cock from inside me to masturbate with need on my stomach, a whitish liquid came out of his limb bathing my belly, filling the navel that he had kissed before. Later, his body crushed mine when he passed out for pleasure, not caring about getting wet from his own pleasure. Taking the momentum necessary to lie beside me, bend one arm under your head and draw me with the other towards your chest. His agitated voice sounded like the god himself. “Do you still like summer?”

“It’s warm.” I replied, after catching my breath. Overcast by a suffocating confusion from such a strange occurrence. 

“Then you won’t mind getting married in our garden.”

Expanding his eyes and I surprised him with his hands on his chest.

“Is that your hint to ask me to get married, Park Jimin?” He snorted, drawing naked caresses along the curves of his abs. His belly shakes, contracting his muscles when he laughs. A sound produced by the angels themselves.

“No, that’s the way I have to ask you to be my wife for the rest of eternity.”