#what I took from his recipe was the swirling instead of stirring and letting it rest for 30secs after to get a more even bed of coffee

[why-the-heck-not]

20.12.23, wednesday

My main hobby is just procrastinating in any way I can. The plan was to make a cup of coffee and then start working. What actually happened is that I watched a 3 part video series (by james hoffmann ofc) on Aeropress coffee and made a few cups with different variables. Still not sure if I found The Recipe for me, but it’s getting better (tho I don’t love the coffee beans I have)

[therealvalkyrie]

Painter’s Hands and Guatemalan Coffee: Part 6

sketch

Pairing/setting: Levi Ackerman x Female!Reader, modern!college!AU

Summary: When you catch your idiot boyfriend cheating, your grumpy roommate is there to pick up the pieces and watch your back as you toe a carefully drawn line in the metaphorical sand.  

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: fluff, romantic vegetable chopping, the chapter of realizing things

AN: Well, it’s been six fucking months, but it’s finally here!! It’s a little shorter than I’d prefer, and took a lot of iterations to get here, but I’m very satisfied:) Thanks, as always, to my lovely @doinmybesthere for editing and encouraging. I hope you all enjoy! I think there’re maybe 1 or 2 parts left in this story, that’ll hopefully be out more quickly than I managed this one. Please let me know what you think! Be kind to yourselves and others. ~valkyrie

—

(read chapter 5 here)

Finals week passes in a slow blur, barely leaving enough time for you to breathe between essays, exams, and one presentation that you think takes at least a year off the end of your life. It’s much the same for everyone else, as well — you barely see Levi, not counting the nights you spend alternating between your bed and his, and you don’t see Hange at all. Consequently, there’s no opportunity to break apart what happened on Saturday. No chance to peel back its layers and find how you really feel. Although, to her credit, Annie doesn’t appear again, so you’re able to shove it into a corner of your mind for the time being.

Saturday brings with it both a new winter storm and an overwhelming sense of relief. You let it fill you completely as you sit and watch snow swirl outside. The street below your kitchen window is bustling with students trying to outrun the storm to get home for vacation. But you have nowhere to be, nothing to do. It’s nice.

The door opens, bringing with it the stomping of Levi’s boots. You turn to watch him shake snow from his hair, sinking deeper into the reassurance of knowing that everything you need is here under your roof. Safe.

Hmm. What the fuck?

You choke on the next sip of your tea as the realization of what you just felt hits you square in the chest. Through your coughing and hacking, you reach again for that fleeting sense of home. Childish, content, warm.

“Are you okay?” Levi calls from the entrance, looking at you with pinched brows halfway through hanging up his jacket.

“Fine,” you cough out, pushing back from the table to hunch over and catch your breath. “I’m okay.”

It takes a moment for you to stop breathing hard, though when you do, your heart rate doesn’t return to normal, instead pushing blood to your face and neck and making your body feel light. Levi doesn’t help when he finally joins you in the kitchen, all floppy hair and bright cheeks from the snow. All leisurely about the way he stretches his lean body to take his favorite blend of Earl Grey from the top of the fridge.

“I was thinking about dinner,” he starts, completely oblivious to the way you’ve started sweating under your cardigan. “We shouldn’t order because of the snow, so I brought home stuff to make soup.”

“What kind?” It’s a miracle the words come out normally.

“Chicken noodle.” He turns to face you. “My mom’s recipe.”

—

“I don’t get why guys are always so uppity about kitchen knives,” you say, picking up what Levi’s told you is a utility knife. “Like, it’s just a knife. I’m not about to stab myself with it.” Your finger drags along its sharp edge for only a split second when Levi’s slim fingers are suddenly around your wrist.

“Don’t. Touch. The knives,” he growls, taking the utility knife gently from your other hand and placing it back on the counter. “I just sharpened them last week, you could’ve seriously cut yourself.”

His steel eyes hold yours for another long moment until you nod your head mutely. You haven’t been able to shake the knot of hyperawareness that’s been settled in your belly since your what the fuck moment, and it only twists tighter when he’s so close to you. His hair is dry now, curling slightly because he hasn’t bothered to comb it since he got home. You have to actively resist the urge to twist a particularly enthusiastic curl around your finger in the split second before he backs away again.

Muttering under his breath, he returns to the simmering pot on the stove that he claims has turned into stock, though you hardly believe it. Growing up, you’d never been taught kitchen skills, let alone anything close to actual labor.

For a while, you’re content to watch, sitting at the table and nursing both the ache in your chest and a fresh cup of chamomile, but the urge to join him in his quiet work overwhelms you as he’s washing the vegetables.

“Levi, please, can I help?” Your tone edges on whining, prompting him to huff and shift on his feet. “I promise I won’t touch the knives! There, just, must be something I can do.”

You see him roll his eyes, swear under his breath, then turn towards you with a glower.

“No talking, no questions, and go wash your hands.”

“Yes!” you cheer and stand up with a bounce.

The scent of the bar of soap as you lather and wash cuts pleasantly through the spices and thick scents already filling the kitchen. It’s not something you’ve experienced often, and you relish in what you realize must be home comfort, your grin settling from enthused to contented.

Levi is arranging carrots, celery, and onions next to the cutting board when you join him again.

“I thought I wasn’t allowed to touch the knives?”

“You’re not, until I show you how to do it without chopping off your fingers.”

“Oh, ye of little faith,” you tease, but nevertheless settle in beside him to watch as he lines up a carrot and picks up the utility knife.

“We’re generally going for even pieces, though it doesn’t matter much because it’s a soup. Put your fingers like this,” you lean over a bit to see how he’s arranged his left hand holding the carrot, the tips of his fingers just barely tucked under the knuckles, “so that you can chop like this—“ he begins slicing, knife guided by his knuckles “—and not lose your fingers. Always point the blade away from yourself and others, and never hold the handle like you’re going to stab something. That’s not effective, anyway. If you have to use this as a weapon, it’s much more effective to slash rather than stab, considering bone density—“

“Uhh,” you cut in, “pause. Are we slicing carrots or fending off home invaders?”

He stops chopping. “What did I say about asking questions?”

“Right. Sorry.”

“Anyway. Considering bone density, you’ll have better luck aiming to cut big veins than forcing through ribs.”

He’s done with the first carrot, now, lithe fingers flipping the knife so the blade is up.

“Never drag the blade along the surface sideways. Flip it over and use the blunt edge to move food.” He demonstrates, moving the little pile of carrot slices to a corner of the cutting board. “Your turn.”

And then, like it’s nothing, he’s offering you the handle with a flat expression.

“Uhm.” You press your lips together and eye it for a long pause. “Are you sure?”

“It’s just a carrot. You’ll be fine.” He lets another unsure moment slide into being, then sighs and reaches out to wrap your hand around the handle. “Here, like this.”

And like you’ve suddenly stepped into a poorly-written romcom, he’s guiding your hands under his to the next waiting carrot, curling your fingers exactly like he showed you before, and scooting over to let you stand in his place. You just let yourself go along with it, hoping desperately that he won’t feel your hands grow clammy or see the way your chin has tucked itself shyly to your chest so you can watch.

Fucking shit carrots, useless goddamn root vegetable, can’t chop itself, has to make me do all the work—

Your aggressive inner monologue takes you all the way through the second carrot, then his hands are leaving yours and he’s placing a third under your waiting blade. Time to fly solo.

—

When you fall asleep in the armchair that night, sated and full of comfort food, Levi sketches in pencil on scrap paper. He sketches his hands over yours in the kitchen and he sketches the steam rising from the pot on the stove. He sketches you sitting with a bowl of soup in your lap, face illuminated by the TV and he sketches your sleeping body curled up, hair in your mouth. He sketches a close-up of your face, with special attention to the curve of your bottom lip, and he considers it practice for finishing the painting in his room.

Levi doesn’t think about how if he doesn’t do something soon, all of this will change. About how you’ll get over your heartbreak and move out at the end of the year and he won’t see you every day and every night. And he definitely doesn’t think about how he’ll have to adjust back to sleeping without your soft body tangled in his, and he doesn’t wonder how he ever slept before you.

No, instead of thinking, he just cracks his knuckles and gently scoops you from the chair and into his arms.

It’s as he’s climbing into his side of your bed that you stir and snort and blink sleepy eyes open.

“What time is it?”

“Ten forty,” he whispers, “go back to sleep.”

You hum and turn on your side to face him, face half hidden by the squish of your pillow. He settles more comfortably in, tucks your head under his chin even though you’re taller than he is, and drapes his free arm around the curve of your waist. 

Quiet breathing is the only thing that fills the room for a long while, and he finally thinks you’ve drifted back off, when:

“Hey, Levi?”

“Hmm?”

“I... I’ve been thinking a lot, and...”

The tone of your voice is odd and it makes Levi’s throat seize up for a moment while you hesitate. He swallows deliberately.

“And?”

Your next words are more confident, like you have really been thinking a lot, your voice not sleepy in the slightest. It’s matter-of-fact and soft and lovely. 

“And you make me feel really safe. Just, like, all the time. And I’m glad I met you. You make me feel, um...,” a small sniffle, “You make me feel held.”

Levi tightens his arm around you and swallows again. It feels like he’s balancing on the head of a pin, and a thousand angels are swirling around him, and it’s taking all he has not to get pushed off.

“Well, I am holding you.”

“Psssssht,” you wriggle slightly back so you can look at his face. You look simultaneously exasperated and vulnerable in the shadows of your bedroom. “You know what I mean.”

“What if I don’t?”

“Well, I guess...” 

You pause to think for a moment, eyes flicking away from Levi’s face for a split second. Then, they’re back on his and he can feel the vulnerable honesty already spilling from you. 

“I’ve never really, um, gotten a lot of physical affection? From people in my life? And, uh, it’s not just that, it’s that you’re so... so— so familiar, and not just because I know you, godimnotmakingalickofsense, but because it feels like I’ve always known you?” It’s said like a question, like you want to know if he feels the same. “And you just make me feel held.”

You pause on a shaky inhale of breath, then cover your face with your hands and roll onto your back away from him. 

“God, I’m sorry, that doesn’t make any sense at all, I’ll just—“

“Stop,” Levi cuts you off, pushing up to lean over you and grasp your wrists in one hand and cover your mouth with the other, a mirror of the pair of you in the kitchen weeks earlier. “It makes sense. I get it.”

Your doe eyes stare up at him just like they did then and he selfishly indulges in an extra second of staring back before he releases you and slides back to rest on an elbow. Your hands stay demurely tucked by your chest where he put them and your tongue flicks out to lick at your lips as your eyes follow him. 

“Really?”

“Yeah. I get it.”

“Okay. Good.”

Suddenly, Levi doesn’t feel like going to bed. He feels like running for miles or painting until his hands ache or hitting something, anything to distract him from doing something incredibly stupid right now. The mattress sinks as he sits up and spins his legs out of bed, muttering something about tea and not tired yet, and he almost doesn’t catch the sensation of you sitting up behind him. 

He turns halfway back to tell you to go back to sleep, but your fingers catch his chin and he’s abruptly out of breath.

The curve of your bottom lip is perfectly, exactly the way he sketched it in the semi-dark. It’s slightly chapped.

When you kiss him, soft and certain, he topples off the pinhead and back into his body just in time to do something incredibly stupid and kiss you back.

—

(read part 7 here)

[yuzukult]

from home 04 || jjk & reader

title: from home pairing: jungkook x reader genre: richkid!jk, baker!reader, fakedating!au, fluff, angst, e2l, smut in future chapters word count: 7.4k prompt: jungkook is the youngest of five boys, the last in line to truly inherit any his parents’ money. but what if his mom suddenly cuts him off due to his current poor behavior and he’s forced to learn how it feels like to be part of the working class? a/n: so so so thankful that from home 01 has reached over 400 notes! this is a huge milestone for me so thank you all that reblogged, liked, and replied to my chapters because it means so much to me! so grateful for all of your support because i never thought any of my fics would get any attention! honestly, not my best chapter, but i have plans for from home 05 that are more exciting to write lol please let me know if you’re interested in being tagged! but also let me know if you want to be removed! taglist: @scalubera @strugglingartistno16-2 @taestannie @teresaisla @drumsofheaven @vampgguk @christiandosworld @madjammil @jungkookieyoongs @bananagguknim @shuttheelleup ← previous chapter || next chapter →

You’d never invite him over to your apartment without the company of Hoseok. So why did you ask him to come over and just him?

Jungkook is anxious. Other than the fact that you've requested for his company on a Friday night, he hasn't really spoken to you alone ever since that weekend at his parents' estate. You weren't avoiding him, at least that's what he speculates, but there wasn't much 'alone time' and he was starting to feel insecure about how you felt about your relationship.

Rephrase. Fake relationship, he means.

The brisk, heavy wind smacks his face when he steps out of his apartment, ready to be on route to your house with the address you sent over just minutes ago. Cheeks flushing crimson, he pulls his denim coat with sherpa lining closer, suddening wishing that Hyungjin was still driving him on days like this, oh how lucky Old Jungkook was. 

15 minutes is what the GPS on his phone says, grateful that his mother hasn't cut off his line with the money because he honestly wouldn't have known what to do if he didn't have it. What did people use back then when they needed to go somewhere they've never been to before? He'd have to google that later. His hands are occupied, looking for warmth in his pockets. 

His fingers are curled frozen by the time he reaches the front of your apartment, face pale with only the tint in his nose and cheeks. There's something swirling in his gut—whether it's gas or he's just plain nervous, he's not exactly sure, but he knows that this is the first time he's ever been to your apartment and it's not the same feeling he gets when he's at his one night stands.

Once you receive his text, the buzzer goes off, allowing him to enter into the hallway of your apartment building and how different it is compared to his is astonishing. Other than the fact that the wallpaper was tearing off and the carpets look like it's been years since someone last vacuumed it, the lights were dim, giving off a spooky aura despite Halloween being a month ago.

"Apartment 344," He reiterates to himself from your message, following the instructions underneath that had been oddly specific. "Don't go into elevator car six. Six breaks down after floor two, and five is missing a button for floor three, so only car eight works without a chance of you being stuck in it. There's a smell, so you'll just have to hold your breath."

Weird. So Elevator Eight then?

When he finally reaches your floor, he nearly faints when he walks out. It smelled like a combination of pee and weed with a sprinkle of air freshener which wasn't much help. 

344. The black printed numbers are inscribed in the gold plaque that isn't real gold because it's peeling and the surface underneath it is brown. When you come to the door after he knocks, he can't help but gush at the sight of you. 

Oversized hoodie and shorts with your hair tied in a low bun, strands that fall out effortlessly and frame your no-makeup face, his heart almost jerks out of his chest. It's not fair that someone so mean can be so pretty.

"Hey," You say, breathless. "Come in. I'm in the middle of cooking up dinner. Have you ever had a home cooked meal?"

He furrows his brows. "Uh, the chefs usually put something together at the estate."

"Is it even called home-cooked if you call your house an estate?" 

"Well—" You wave him off, stepping aside for him to enter. "Welcome to my humble abode."

Your apartment is you in a version of a place. Outside entering in, he thinks it's intimidating and tends to throw people off, with the impression that it's not somewhere you'd want to be at. Yet your home itself— he finds that the confined space between where the TV sits on the shelf, books residing in the cubes beneath, across from where a grey love-seat couch is placed is a resemblance of serenity. The kitchen is relatively small, even smaller than his current studio apartment, but everything about it here feels cosy. "It's nice," He hums in content, slipping off his jacket to hang on the coat rack nearby. "I never thought your place would be so... comfortable."

"What'd you think it was going to be? A white void?" Well, you're not wrong, but he fears you so he figured it was best to not respond to that. "So... what are you cooking?"

"Couple things, actually. I even cooked some rice. What did you usually eat when you were living at home— I mean, the estate?" Leading him into the kitchen, which didn't really need much guidance with the short square footage of the apartment, he still can't believe that this place is your own. "American food? Italian? Just generally European? Our chef is from England, and studied somewhere in France. Not much Korean, if I'm being honest."

"Then... is it even home cooked? Take a seat."

He sits at the little round table centered in the middle of the kitchen, a couple recipe books stacked to the side, just enough room for the two of you to work with. "I guess not. You never answered my question, what did you make?"

"Mm... Kimchi Jjigae, bulgogi, and some stir fried veggies. I even baked something for dessert."

Something about this view of you working over the stove, plating the food and side dishes onto the table that makes it feel so domestic. He likes you like this—clear faced without trying so hard, despite thinking how beautiful you looked during the charity event, this felt refreshing.

"Alright," You cheer, handing him a bowl of rice and a pair of chopsticks. "Let's dig in."

"Can I ask you something?" You're in the midst of putting some beef into his serving before looking up. "What is it?"

"Why... Are you being so nice to me? I haven't heard a jab since I got here. And why did you invite me over? Not even Hoseok joining in, just us two. If I didn't know any better, I'd think that you were trying to avoid me ever since you got to see what it was like to be in my family but then you asked me to come over. I’m a little confused."

Chewing on your bottom lip, your shoulders slouch as you drop your body back against the seat. "Honestly?" He nods. "I've been putting you in a weird spot. I don't like you because you have money, look down on other people who don't have those opportunities, and to be fair, you're very ignorant to this life stuff. You almost bought something from the Supreme drop until Hoseok stole your phone away from you." Fiddling with the kimchi sitting in it's plate, you poke at it with your chopsticks. "You took me back to your family house but it wasn't a house. You called it an estate then you proceeded to show me that you have no real relationship with your brothers. I get why you'd come to those events drunk, and I felt bad."

He scoffs. "So you pitied me."

"Well— no, I just... I just wanted you to know the feeling of home. What home really feels like, and how it's a place you find yourself wanting to come back to. I'm trying somewhat to show it through food—" You gesture the meal that you spent hours on. "—and possibly other ways. I'm not pitying you, I just don't think it's fair."

Jungkook's face softens. "You... don't think it's fair for me. You've always said things aren't fair for you, how I get all these things and I'm provided with so many advantages and now... you're siding with the rich?"

"No, not siding with the rich. Siding with you, Jeon Jungkook. Or, Kookie, whatever your sister-in-law calls you." He can’t help but laugh, as embarrassing as the nickname is to him because he’s too elated that you see him in a different light now. Maybe Hoseok was right. Learning a thing or two from you would be beneficial for him, if anything.

“Here— have some more of this,” You say before hauling a load of veggies into his bowl and he can only smile at the gesture.

“So,” Jungkook begins, finishing washing the last dish in the sink. Truth be told, he offered because you so kindly prepared a delicious dinner for him, but he needed guidance on how to actually do the chore. “What’s the dessert?”

It’s cute— the way you squirt the bottle of dish soap into the sponge in his hands, teaching him how to properly clean after himself. He feels like a baby being taught how to do the basic life tasks, low-key wishing that he could just ask Hana or Nayeon to do it instead— but it’s you beside him, telling him he needs to thoroughly scrub in order to get the tough grease stains out. He’d say, “how can you tell if it’s still greasy?” and despite you rolling your eyes and responding back, “by touching it?” something about tonight feels different than when you do it at the grocery store.

“Cinnamon rolls!” There’s a sparkle in your eye, exuberant about getting a target to fixate on. “I can pop it back in the oven for a couple minutes to get it all warm again.”

He agrees, wiping his hand off on a rag hanging by the sink, watching as you eagerly pop two buns on a tray, slipping it into the pre-heated oven. “I want you to try the things I bake from scratch... since you’re kind of investing in me.”

“It’s an exchange, more like I’m paying you.”

You grumble, rubbing your face in your hands. “No, no, no, don’t just give me money, Jungkook. If anything includes you putting cash of any form into my palms, it means you’re investing in me because you believe in me.”

Jungkook frowns. “But I do believe in you. Why do I have to keep saying that? You have the characteristics of a trustworthy person. Why else would I have asked you to be my girlfriend?”

“Pretend girlfriend,” you rectify, pointing in his direction, “... you chose me to be your pretend girlfriend. Even so, what if I’m a bad baker?”

A chortle escapes from Jungkook’s lips, shaking his head in disbelief. “OK, ok. Keep baking me goods. If in the end, I think you’re a horrible baker, I won’t ‘invest’ in your business, but I’ll invest in you instead. You keep the money. Do whatever you please with it, even if it means opening a really bad bakery. You’re helping me out here by fake dating me. My father has already personally called me on four occasions, asking when we’re visiting again.”

There it sits. The cinnamon bun. Or roll. Whichever it is— but there you are, directly leaning against the table across from him, eyes watching him attentively. Thoughts start running in his mind like; what if it actually tastes horrific like the possibility you mentioned? What would he do then? You both had already gone as far as meeting his family, he’s too deep in. 

“Stop thinking and just eat.” You say discernibly, impatient with his indecisiveness. Using the fork you provided, he pierces through the the pastry and the cut is buttery smooth, requiring no effort. When he brings it to his mouth, the moment it touches the tip of his tongue, it practically melts, dissolving in contact with his saliva, awakening up his taste buds. It’s sweet, the cinnamon with the brown sugar and butter, yet not overwhelming enough to turn it away because something about it just brings life into you again.

His mouth parts open, gaping in awe. “Oh my god,” he mutters with his cheeks full of the pastry, “W-what, oh my god. Did you drug me or something? Because there’s no way it tastes that good.”

“No— but then I made a home-made yeast dough where I added some more ingredients to transform it into an enriched dough, and that contributes to it’s soft interior with a more fragile crumb. Then the filling, I brushed on butter after rolling the dough out to a rectangle—“ 

“I-I don’t need the details,” Jungkook stutters with a nervous laugh but you were going to go off for hours if he hadn’t stopped you. “I think if all the things you make taste just as good as this, I’m impressed. You’ve sold me. But... I have to ask, why a bakery? I looked up what it means to be someone in your field with your degree and people go off to do product development, maybe research in processed foods— this isn’t necessarily close to being a baker. I honestly don’t know why my father asked you to take part of the restaurant chain he’s planning on building.” 

“Oh,” Pursing up your lips you tap your fingers against the wooden table, heaving out a sigh. “I’m surprised you did some research.”

“Well, you taught me to do some extensive exploration before I invest in something.” He shoots back.

“I wanted to go to culinary school, simple as that. I told you, I love Guy Fieri and wouldn’t it be crazy if he went to my bakery and put me on his show?” Jungkook is keeping this in his back pocket for future teasing, but you seem so dazed when you talk about your dreams that he has to refrain himself. “But I couldn’t just go to culinary school, no, my parents would kill me. So, I chose something as close as possible and so here I am. I should get into product development, maybe I can be part of something that could be preserved and easily accessible to help feed third world countries but— I don’t know how long I’d be able to sit in a lab for. I want to make people happy, see them walk through the front doors and hear the bell ring along with their footsteps, see their faces lit up when they eat what I made.”

There’s a lot of things he can point out in your expression when you talk about your dreams, them being how your eyes become the pools of chocolate cupcakes, swirling dark and sweet, and how your lips look so pillowy pink like a fluffy buttercream frosting. Within your voice, there’s so much certainty that holds it, credence along with each syllable you sing, words rising like the yeast in bread. Wholeheartedly, he wants to back you up on your aspirations, solely from the way you’ve sold them but at the same time, he feels this green-eyed envious being within him that wishes he had something to be equally as passionate about.

Money can only be ardor for so long, an inanimate object that can eventually lose its meaning if the world goes to shreds. It’s value will be there when emphasized but what if it didn’t exist? What did Jungkook like?

It’s a constant battle he finds himself placed in, especially when he absentmindedly scans the groceries for the customers, reiterating the same phrases every couple minutes with a new total tailing behind it. His uniform fits too well these days, stability making a name-tag on the chest pocket of his apron, and he’s not sure what to make of it. 

He has an ivy league degree in international business, but what does he do with it? Currently, he’s asking customers how their day was, what the end price of their shopping run is, and hoping the rest of their day is well. Four years grinding hard at a prestigious university and for what?

He used to look down on people like you and Hoseok, with a belief that their placement in the supermarket was a controllable decision on their part, but visually seeing and hearing the other employees speak about their struggles of the inability to access higher education or finding difficulty in providing for their families so they throw away their dreams for a daily life in the deli section— he wants more because he’s able to, and he doesn’t want it given to him.

Yet, Jungkook still doesn’t have a dream. And according to you, he doesn’t have a home either.

Obviously, Jungkook has been through many flings. He's even said so himself and the women who have stirred up scandals on media outlets are evidence of it but never in your life did you think that you'd find yourself in this position, blankly staring at a girl weeping in front of you as you're in the midst of restocking laundry detergent onto one of the shelves in the middle of an aisle.

"He's supposed to love me," She bawls, eyes swollen from her crying previously. The girl is barely a couple inches shorter than you with long, straight black hair that stretches down to her lower back, waist so small you could wrap your hands around her. "Jungkook told me that I was the only girl for him and nobody else. So who are you? What'd you do? What's so great about you?"

"Uh, beats me," Rubbing the back of your neck in consternation, you're not sure what to do. There's about a handful of these supermarkets in Seoul alone, so how did she even find which one you worked at? "Um... Have you talked to him about this?"

"N-N-No," The pretty girl stutters, lips quivering. "I went to the estate and they kicked me out, said he doesn't live there anymore but I think they're lying to me."

"Jungkook doesn't live there anymore." You confirm, typing something into your price gun. "He moved out into the city."

"H-He did?" She retorts, eyes glimmering in hope. "That means they didn't lie to me just to kick me to the curb. He really moved out, he's not living there anymore?" You nod, glancing up at the girl who is supposedly Jungkook's ex-girlfriend or in his eyes, one late night affair. She really fits his ideal type—one that you've accidentally discovered when you came across an article of his on one of those gossip magazines... that you googled. Nonetheless, you learn that he's into girls like her—skinny, long straight hair, feminine with a soft, high-pitched voice. Nothing wrong with those things, you just observed that none of those things are you.

"Maeri?" Why does that name sound familiar? 

Jungkook rushes his way down the aisle to stand by your side, gaze immediately glued onto you. "Hey, you alright? Did she say or do anything to you?"

"No," You respond, blinking rapidly at his sudden action. There's a girl who's crying her eyes out right in front of him and yet he's asking if you were okay? "But she claims to be your current girlfriend or ex—whatever it was, I don't remember. Kind of your problem and somehow I'm roped into this."

"And you picked her? Even though she speaks to you like that?" Maeri whimpers, nose pink and lips swelling. "She doesn't even treat you the way that I do. I can't understand why you would just drop us and pick her!"

"Maeri," He says, voice soft and gentle, completely different from what you're used to. Jungkook leans over, hand flatly pressed against her mid-back, rubbing soothingly to calm her nerves. "You're also my dad's assistant. It would've never worked out. He would've found out what we were up to and be completely against it." So that's why the name sounded so familiar, Jungkook's dad requested him to make an appointment with him through his assistant, Maeri.

... Question is, why would he do something so risky and get involved with his dad's personal assistant?

"B-B-But..."

"Listen," You quickly interject, dropping the price gun onto the car where the array of laundry detergent bottles sit. "This feels like a private conversation. You can finish this after you talk with her, I'll just find something else to do."

"Wait—" But before Jungkook could even grab you, Maeri already has her grasp tightened around his wrists, pulling him in close. "Jungkook, don't go. Talk to me, please?" He sighs when he sees you don't even glance back.

It's a bit infuriating, you think, to hear some girl complain about how you're not worthy enough for a guy that you'd previously thought wasn't even good enough for you. You were somewhat decently looking, right? Or so, that's what you thought.

"You good?" Hoseok interrupts your thoughts, brows furrowed in confusion. "Seem kinda lost there."

You hum, resuming back to stacking up the apples in the produce section because Jungkook was doing your task instead due to the incident. Truth be told, you hated here in produce, because since you first stepped foot into this section, six old women had already tried starting small talk. But anything to get out of that conversation between him and Maeri. "Well, I just saw Kim Maeri over there with boogers dripping from her nose because Jeon Jungkook suddenly has new arm candy."

Rolling your eyes, you threaten to throw the apple in your hand at him. "Not arm candy. Girlfriend."

"Ohhhh," Hoseok teases, hands slipping into the front pocket of his apron. "Not arm candy but rather girlfriend. Not so fake anymore? So, who confessed first? You or our clueless Kook?"

"Hoseok, not in the mood. I just dealt with some weird girl crying over a guy I'm not even really dating, weeping on for twenty minutes about how I'm not good enough for him."

"Why? Are you sad because you think it's somewhat true?"

Your glare nearly kills him. "No, but it's not easy to hear. I mean—he's this guy who doesn't even know what to prioritize in his spendings, can't even properly do his laundry without dying some of his whites, and he doesn't know how to clean after himself. And yet she thinks he's too good for me?" Scoffing in disbelief, you slam an apple onto the pile and Hoseok grimaces, hand on your wrist. "Please don't bruise the apples."

You sigh and he lets go of his grip. "Sorry. But am I that mean?"

"No, no, don't say it like that, of course you're not. Sure, you sound sorta insensitive sometimes but you mean well. Or else Jungkook and I wouldn't willingly spend time with you, right?"

"I'm your timesheet approver and Jungkook is using me to get back at his parents. I don't know about that."

Hoseok rolls his eyes, handing you the apples from the inventory cart as you continue to organize them onto each other. "If that's the case, I wouldn't actually help you out when we're not at work. You don't have enough authority here for me to kiss your ass my way up for a promotion here. And Jungkook— although, true, yes, he's asking that from you but he wouldn't just willingly see you or try to spend time with you outside of work. Stop being so insecure because some pretty girl came by."

"Uh, Hey." Jungkook appears out of thin air, startling both you and Hoseok. "I... restocked the detergent like you asked. I can take over this if you'd like, I know you don't really like working in the produce section because the grandmas like to start conversations up with you."

A smile tugs on the edges of Hoseok's lips, suggestively eyeing you before stepping back. "I'm gonna go find myself elsewhere..." Then he jolts before you can get a word in.

"I'm good," Turning back to the pyramid of fruits, you're content with how it looks so far yet Jungkook doesn't seem to share the same pleasant expression. "I'm almost done anyways."

"She's not... we've never dated," He says, swallowing his nerves. In all honesty, he's unsure why he feels the need to justify his relationship with her and elaborate the story behind it, but he gives into the urges nonetheless. "Just a fling. We slept with each other a couple times because I liked the rush it gave me, knowing that if my dad knew I slept with his favorite assistant of all time, I'd be done for."

Silent and brushing your hands off from the debris, you avoid chiming into his story. Was he telling this to you because you’re his supervisor or because of the weird relationship that’s going on between the two of you? “Uh, it’s fine. It happens. Wasn’t necessarily your fault, it was unavoidable. At least that over with, right?”

Jungkook scratches the back of his head quietly, the ponytail on his head bouncing slightly. “About that... there’s an event this weekend.” After brushing over the details, you don’t say much, striving to finish the pyramid of apples, Jungkook assisting by taking over Hoseok’s spot. “I have a question.”

“What’s up?” You don’t shift your attention away from the red fruit.

He clears his throat. “Are you and Hoseok a thing?” Letting out an airy laugh, your eyes finally meet his. “Of course not. He’s just a very involved and caring friend. Nothing more, and he isn’t really my type. Plus, I’m sure he’s not over Hyeri.”

Jungkook nods, pulling his lips into a straight line because he’s trying to hold back a smile. You and Hoseok were not a thing, which meant that there was one thing less he didn’t have to worry about.

Maeri found you through the instruction of Mr. Jeon; he said that his wife had mentioned your current employment at two of her chains and this was her second attempt after wailing over at the coffee shop, hoping that the second location was a charm. Meeting Jungkook there was really a coincidence, in all fairness, because apparently Mr. Jeon didn’t say anything about Jungkook being there—his main target had been you.

“He wants you to come with me to another event... but it requires some travel.” Jungkook told you, feeling a bit guilty because you had just spent a weekend at his parents estate barely a couple days ago. This means begging your supervisor at the supermarket and the café to let you call off for the next week. Hopefully in the end it’s all worth it...

When Jungkook says travel, this is not what you thought it was going to be.

“We can either take the private plane there with my family or ride the train.” You don’t hesitate to pick the latter option, evading the potential family argument that would blossom in seconds if you were to be stuck in a cabin full of the Jeons. 

You don’t recognize the awkward position you put Jungkook in until you’re standing on the platform, waiting for your train’s arrival with a duffle bag in hand, body hidden underneath a heavy winter coat. “Oh. Have you ever rode on the train before?” He shakes his head ‘no’ and you frown. Maybe you should’ve taken the plane there, Jungkook would’ve been more comfortable. And as if he read your thoughts, he nudges you with his elbows, hands dug into the pockets of his jacket. “Since you’re popping my train cherry, take it easy on me, will you?’

He’s perhaps a little funny, but you’re not going to cave into that.

Busan— is what your ticket says, from Seoul to Busan. Honestly, you had never been in Busan before but you recall Jungkook saying that it was his birthplace and he’d be more than happy to guide you through the nooks and cranny of the largest port city in South Korea. 

Once you reach the city, it’s completely different from Seoul. The buildings are condensed, there’s so many markets yet at the same time, there’s just as many people there are in Seoul. Hyungjin is holding a sign that says, “Jeon Jungkook,” written on it in bold letters, bowing when he sees your fake-boyfriend, just as eager as Jungkook. “I’m glad they asked you to pick me up again.”

“Well, I requested it, Mr. Jeon.”

“Oh please, I’m sure you didn’t. You hated having to drive me home whenever I was partying.”

Hyungjin shakes his head with a grin plastered on his face. “I did, perhaps. However you are a new man now with a very intelligent woman by your side, so I can almost guarantee that you’ve changed. Much more likable, Mr. Jeon. Please, let me take you to your hotel.”

You nearly have a nosebleed just from the view from your room.

The sea is beautiful, despite the grey clouds that hover the water from the colder weather but the charm could never be hidden. Apparently, the hotel that Jungkook’s parents had booked for the two of you was a 5-star hotel, spas, pools, restaurants and everything included and some that you can see from your balcony. 

“Holy shit, Jungkook, is there where you grew up?”

“No, not in a hotel.” He laughs, watching as you move around the room like a little kid to see every trinket the hotel had to offer. “My grandparents’ house is just down the road, and I’m sure they want to meet you. We can do some stuff beforehand and meet them for a late lunch with the rest of the family. How’s that sound?”

Jungkook is your tour guide for the day— taking you to the market where they sell merchandise with idols faces on it, snacks, and so on. He takes you to see the Gamcheon Culture Village, a place where homes are condensed that are splatters of the rainbow and filled with painted murals. It’s a sight for sore eyes, and everything is just a bit more enjoyable with a tall little kid standing by your side.

He takes you to the Haeundae Beach, where a story he tells is a place he recalls biking with brothers when he lived there during the summers. Once they were a bit older and found interest in girls, he stopped going since the only thing he looked forward to was spending time with his siblings there. 

When you meet his grandparents at their humble home, his brothers are already there with his parents, paying their respects and doing their ‘routine’ to visit them at least once a month, apparently. You assumed the family would have neglected their grandparents with the presence of wealth, but it was nice to see that his parents still kept their roots.

“This is Jungkook’s girlfriend?” His grandma says in a mixture awe and disbelief, glancing back at his mother and you. “I’m so glad, he hasn’t been here to visit me in a long time. Did you convince him?”

You shake your head in response, bending down to sit across from her. “No, he asked if I’d like to come.”

“He wants to introduce his pretty girlfriend to his grandparents, of course! Why else?”

From the corner, Jungkook can see Jongseok twitching in annoyance at the attention you were gaining from their grandparents, complimenting while pinching your cheeks, pleased with who Jungkook had ended up with. “Smart and beautiful, will you wed her soon or else someone else sweeps her off her feet?”

“I’ll try,” Jungkook says with uncertainty, rubbing the back of his neck anxiously. “It’s really up to her though.”

“Then make it so that she can’t say no!” His grandfather chimes in.

Lunch had been nice with his family; it had been a lot tamer than the conversations at the dinner table in the Jeon’s. For one, it seemed like if anyone had anything bad to say, they refrained themselves from doing so in respect for their frail grandparents.

Back at the hotel, you stand with your arms rested against the rail of the balcony, your hair blows with the wind, strands getting into your face as you attempt to push them away, only for Jungkook to lean in, gently brushing them out your way. He’s close— so close that you can feel his breathing against your cheek and you don’t realize you’ve been holding your breath when you exhale after he steps back. “There,” he grins, proud of his work, “looks good.” Was he talking about how he completed the task well or that you looked good?

“It’s... really nice here, Jungkook.” If it weren’t for this arrangement, you never would’ve found the time or money to come here unexpectedly, especially with how much money you were trying to save to open up the bakery. Enjoying the finer things in life proved burdensome since one of the things on the list of adulting was knowing what your priorities were. “I don’t think I would’ve gotten the chance to explore Busan if it weren’t for you.”

“You... you should take a break every now and then,” Jungkook suggests, leaning beside you. Everything about the sea at night is striking; the gusts of wind from the waves, the lights at the pool from the hotel, the sky, sparkling with stars from above that causes a glimmer in your eyes, swirls of mocha full of wonder and excitement. “You overwork yourself to death. You’re completely burnt out. Yet at the same time you keep making time for Hoseok and I when what you really need is a spa night.”

“It’s... it’s not that easy,” You frown. “I just have so much to do.”

“I told you, let me take care of you. If I can prove to my family that I’m capable, I get the money back. I can pay you for all the things you’ve done for me, all the things you’ve taught me, everything. You need to enjoy your life before you’re old and wrinkly because by then, you won’t have the energy to do the things you want to anymore.”

“Jungkook—“

“No, let me teach you something this time around. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not that I think I know everything now, I just... with chilling and relaxing, I think you should let me take it from here.”

“I just—“ Cupping your cheeks in his hands, he forces you to face him, pressing them together for your lips to purse up. “No arguments. No disagreeing with me, no more of that. I need you to listen to me for once and not tell me what to do.”

Assertive Jungkook is an inconsistent version of him that’s usually feeble in comparison to you. But something about Busan’s air and water gives him the confidence he needs to stand up to you for once, and it makes your heart skip a beat. You nod in compliance, caving into what he demands. His eyes shift, trailing from the bridge of your nose to the tip, oh how he wants to give it a peck, but once they reach your lips, he realizes that’s what he really wants. 

He swallows, releasing some pressure off of his hands as you survey his distinct expression. “Jungkook, are you—” hastily, he pulls your jaw toward him, lips crashing into yours and it’s more than he expects. He swore in a not dramatic way that it felt like there were fireworks being set off behind him.

Noticing what he’d done, he quickly lets go, hands dropping at his side. “I’m sorry, I just, I couldn’t help myself but I know I said boundaries—”

Hands flying up, your thumb brushes against the soft flesh of his cheeks, hopping onto the tip of your toes, reaching up to meet as much of his height as you could, eyes hooded with your breath fanning his lips. Fingers slipping to the back of his neck, you tug him down, gingerly pushing your lips against his.

It’s gentle— the kind of kiss that Jungkook isn’t familiar with when he comes across his flings, but the way you ease your way into his parted lips and how your tongue brushes against his, it makes him feel hazy, drunk on your scent. His hands find purchase on your waist, tugging your hips to rest on his as your fingers run through his luscious hair. The length is something you’ve grown to love, a huge step from forcing him to tie it back because it hadn’t been ‘professional’ enough. And here you are, making out with your trainee on the balcony of your shared hotel room. He lets you lead the kiss momentarily before you break away, foreheads against each other, you’re both panting with tinted cheeks. “Don’t hold yourself back, please,” you beg in a whisper, completely intoxicated by everything radiating off him. 

Reaching down your thighs, he puts those muscles to use when he grabs onto them, wrapping your legs around his frame as you yelp, arms immediately hugging around his shoulders. He slides the balcony door shut with his feet, dropping you onto the bed, falling along in unison. 

There’s a smile upon his lips, a genuine one filled with admiration. Just when he’s leaning closer to you for a second round, there’s a knock on the door.  Jungkook groans, dropping his face into the crook of your neck as laughter erupts from your chest. “Go get the door.”

“Whoever it is, they just ruined this moment.” He grunts, untangling your legs from his waist to open the door.

Jongseok is leaned up against the door frame, eying his younger brother suggestively. “What were you doing?”

“None of your business,” Jungkook hisses in return. He doesn’t need to say it though because Jongseok knew from his sibling’s disheveled locks, swollen lips, flushed cheeks and labored breathing. Jongseok wasn’t going to look, but he could already tell that Jungkook was supporting a boner in those sweatpants. 

“Hm,” Jongseok hums, narrowing his gaze. “Alright then. Stopped by to tell you that mother wants us to have dinner with family tonight in about 30 minutes. Should be enough time for you to finish, right? How long does 3 pumps take?”

“Get out!” He responds through his gritted teeth, slamming the door on him.

Quickly standing up, you brush your clothes off and fix your hair in the mirror. “We should get ready to head out, I don’t want your mom to wait on us.”

“You sure? I mean we don’t have to go—“ 

“I still need to impress your parents too, right?” Hand pressed against his chest, he calms down at your touch and nods in conformity. “Alright then.”

When the two of you return from the trip, you don’t mention anything about the kiss and what it would’ve led to. Fearing that you’d back out from the agreement, Jungkook doesn’t bring it up either, despite having so many questions running through his head, discovering that there’s a small chance that he’s fallen for you.

Hoseok throws something in Jungkook’s direction, a confused expression on his face when he catches in his hands yet his body doesn’t move from the couch. “What’s this for?” He asks, opening his cupped hands to see a shiny gold key.

“That’s my apartment key,” Hoseok responds calmly, shuffling through some letters that sit on his counter. “For whenever you want to come over.”

In the past month, he found himself gravitating toward not just you, but Hoseok as well, a friendship blooming from being acquaintances. Reminiscing to a time where they would only say ‘hi’ in passing, mostly for politeness because their parents had worked together before, there had never been a real bond between the two of them. And ever since he started working at the market, their friendship had escalated to hanging out with each other on the weekends or any available free-time they had.

Jungkook has friends now.

Real friends, he notes. Ones he never thought he had, ones he had only ever dreamed of, and ones that he didn’t have to bribe for them to become. He admits that whatever he has with you is a bit rocky and unknown, but after having that home-cooked dinner with you that night, he feels like you’re opening up to him. 

An action from you that he rightfully earned, he likes to repeat to himself, because he can’t believe he’s able to obtain relationships with people that didn’t include money.

“You’re giving this to me? You trust me with it?”

“Well, yeah,” Hoseok nets his brows in confusion, making his way to sit beside the other male on the couch, switching his PlayStation 5 on, handing Jungkook a controller as he stares dumbfoundedly. “You come here almost every weekend, or well, recently almost every other day since I got the PS5. You’re a bro now, we’re not just some dudes that acknowledge each other at parties anymore.”

Jungkook feels like he’s soaring. His feet are hovering in the air, and his heart feels light. If this is what it feels like to have a friend who cares and enjoys spending time with, he doesn’t need to get high and wasted to obtain that feeling anymore.

“Mom, I’m not really in the mood to come back so soon.” You sigh, fingers raking through your drenched locks. It’s supposed to be a relaxing Friday night in; Jungkook bringing the pizza with wings and Hoseok grabbing the beers from the supermarket when he finishes his shift tonight. Figuring that you had some time, you’d give yourself a relaxing shower, knowing damn well you were going to need some peace and quiet temporarily with two rowdy boys coming later.

“Please,” She begs, attempting to raise her voice in a baby-ing manner. “Your sister said she was coming tomorrow morning. I would love to get the family back together. And you said so yourself last week, you’re free this weekend!” You’re starting to regret calling your mom with life updates.

The door swings open, the sight of Jungkook hauling in bags and a box in his hand. “Jeon, you can put it on the coffee table,” Pointing in the living room, he nods as you trail behind him. “You can move the books off the table and put it by the TV.”

“Jeon?” Your mom reiterates, suddenly intrigued by whomever you were at your apartment with. “Who is Jeon?” Ignoring her, you press the phone against your shoulder and cheek, freeing your hands in attempt to help Jungkook clear out the table. “Oh, Jungkook, can you close the door? It’s cold for some reason.”

“Jungkook?” She gasps the name into the phone, squealing afterwards. “You have a boyfriend and you didn’t tell me?”

“What?” You reply sharply, Jungkook coming back from your request, brows knitted in confusion. “Who’s on the phone?” He mouths, you retort, “my mom” back faintly. 

“I heard you calling some guy named Jungkook. It’s just him in your apartment alone, isn’t it? You wouldn’t have some guy with you unless he’s your boyfriend, right? Oh my god, I thought you were going to be alone forever—” She yammers on, not even taking a second to breathe. “You know what? Bring him tomorrow. Don’t say no, I’m not taking ‘no’ for an answer. I’m letting your dad and siblings know. Goodnight, dear! Sleep well! Tell Jungkook I said hi!” And with that, she hangs up.

Throwing your phone on the couch, you grumble, hands rubbing your face. “I’m assuming she thinks I’m your boyfriend?”

“Yeah,” you exhale, plummeting your body onto the couch. “As much as I don’t want to do this, she’s going to attack me nonstop if I don’t bring you. Are you free tomorrow? Would you... like to meet my family? If not— it’s totally fine, I mean we’re not even really dating anyways and—“

“Of course,” He grins, settling down beside you. “This doesn’t have to just apply to my parents, you know. I am your boyfriend, not just you being my girlfriend.”

In all honesty, he finds this as an opening. Ever since your trip to Busan, he couldn’t help but see you differently out of the blue. He admits, maybe right now isn’t necessarily the best time for him to start a relationship, especially one where a business deal is involved, but he can’t help it. Something about you, since that night, he saw you underneath those lights and you’re not the same mean supervisor that he thought you’d been.

And don’t even get him started on the way you kiss.

[generalfoolish]

Do You Ever Wonder?

Part Two: How You Make a Boy Feel

Pairing: Marcus Pike x fem!reader

Rating: Adult themes, but still pretty fluffy

Word Count: 1,991

Masterlist | Do You Ever Wonder? Masterlist | Part One

A/N: A little update to this story. I'm still on the fence about Marcus, but he's fun to write ;)

Let me know if you'd like to be tagged!

--

“Stop!” You giggled, walking arm in arm out of the movie. Marcus was teasing you about your obvious attraction to both Humphrey and Mary. You couldn’t help yourself, you reasoned, they were a great distraction to the handsome man beside you. You leaned in closer to him as you walked into the chilly D.C. evening.

“Fine, fine. Are you hungry? Popcorn makes me so hungry. I was thinking of a proper restaurant, if you’re into it?” Marcus leaned down closer to your ear, his breath a hot tickle against your hair. You nodded, and burrowed into your jacket a little deeper. It had seemed like a promising evening, but the sun had taken all of the warmth in the air with it.

“It is chilly, isn’t it. Here, I’ll get a cab.” Marcus stepped away from you, and flagged down a cab in no time. He could be very authoritative when he wanted. You slid in after he opened the door, and he gave the cabbie the address.

“So, where are we going?” You asked, rubbing your hands together. He scooped them up and wrapped them in his large, warm hands. You blushed a little, thinking about how big they were and what you’d like them to be doing instead. He smiled and blew some warm air in the pocket his hands had made for yours.

“It’s a little fancier than a diner, but it’s no black tie place.” He told you, lowering your hands, but not letting go. The action forced you to scoot a little closer to keep your arm from being bent awkwardly, but you didn’t mind. Two hours in the dark with Marcus had only driven you crazy. You had no idea why he was going so slow. Not that you minded the switch from the usual dating scene, but if you didn’t taste his lips soon you felt you might actually lose your mind.

“How vague, Marcus.” Your tone was chiding, but you smiled as you said it. You had come to enjoy his easy banter and teasing. You didn’t want it to end. Before you knew it, though, the cab ride was over and he was passing cash to the driver. You got out on the building side, and looked back in confusion at him. There was no restaurant. There were no businesses at all. He grinned widely as he approached you. His hand found the small of your back, and he led you to a door up a small landing.

“That’s because I wanted to cook something for you. I’ve been, well I’ve been practicing, and I...I want to do something nicer than a stuffy meal.” He stammered out, before looking at your face. You had broken into a smile, and you were sure your face was turning red from more than just the cold. Unable to speak, you just nodded. You were overcome with an emotion that was new. No one, let alone a prospective guy, had made you a meal. It felt like a lot, but in a way you’d never had before.

“Welcome! I picked the place up a bit before the show, but I’m fairly clean.” He rambled, tossing his keys in the foyer table’s bowl. He kicked his shoes off, and invited you to do the same. He took your coat, and hung it up in the closet. He ushered you to the kitchen and pulled a small stool out for you.

“So, I’m not a big wine guy, but you struck me as a red wine gal?” He laughed, and pulled out a bottle from the fridge. “The clerk assured me this would impress a pretty girl.” You both laughed as he poured a glass for you, and passed it your way. He watched apprehensively as you took a sip, and exhaled in relief when you told him it was good. He poured himself a glass, but you noticed he didn’t touch it much.

“What’s on the menu, then, Chef?” You asked, swirling the Pinot around.

“It’s number 5 on the “Easy and Romantic dinners to impress your date,” List, and number 12 on the “Easy but Impressive Meals,” List. It’s just mussels in wine with some homemade bread. A little salad if you’re into it?” He rambled, clearly nervous.

“That sounds amazing, Marcus. Did you say homemade bread? I thought you said you were a beginner?” You asked, peppering him with questions, but honestly a little buzzed and ready to tear up some fresh mussels.

“Like I said, I’ve been practicing. Now, why don’t you handle the music situation, and I’ll get cracking on dinner.” He flashed you a big smile, and pointed to the vintage record player in the corner of the living room. It was gorgeous, cabinet style. He had shelves of records to choose from, and you shifted through the sleeves. It was endlessly more intimate than a stuffy restaurant, you thought as you pulled Fleetwood Mac’s self-titled record from the shelf. You loaded it gently on the turntable, and then laid the needle on the edge. Monday Mornings came through the speakers after a little crackle, it sounded clean and beautiful. You swayed a little to the words, before following your nose back to the kitchen. Marcus was concentrating on the mussels, but you could see his foot tapping. You knocked back the wine for a little courage, and poured some more. You noticed he had a nice Sauvignon Blanc for the mussels, and you felt your mouth water at the thought of how delicious dinner was going to be.

Without noticing it, Marcus had started feeling the music a little more, and you watched him dance as he added the wine to the mussels. He slid smoothly from the stove to the counter to chop herbs as the record started croning Warm Days. You watched the way he slowed his slight swaying to match the slower pace of the song, and you felt the rush go right to your core. Everything about him made you crazy. You shifted a little on your stool, getting more uncomfortable as you traced the outline of Marcus’s back muscles as he chopped garlic and parsley. You felt the heat rise to your face as you thought about his hands tracing you, and how it would feel to roam your own hands across his back.

“Dove, would you grab the bread from the oven, there’s a mitt to the left of it, I’ve got sticky garlic fingers.” He said, laughing. You cleared your throat, and stumbled to the oven. You grabbed the loaf out, and nearly dropped it when you saw how gorgeous it was.

“Marcus did you cut this design yourself?” You asked incredulously, and he nodded without turning around. “It’s gorgeous!” You exclaimed, laying it on the board he had set out. He started to say something, but the song loudly switched to Blue Letter, and the moment was lost.

“That’s dinner, then.” He told you, pulling the pot from the stove and walking it to the counter with the stools. “You’ll have to excuse the counter meal, there’s not a lot of space and I admittedly eat most meals on the couch.” He told you, sheepishly.

“No, Marcus, this is amazing. You were right, so much better than another meal out.” You assured him, as he spooned mussels out. He grabbed a knife and sliced a hunk of bread for you, before removing the pot.

“We’ll see if you still think that once you taste it.” He laughed, but you could tell it was a little more serious than he was letting on. So, not minding the steam, you dunked a bit of the bread into the broth. You quickly took a bite, and it was amazing. Not just good, but actually amazing. Which you told him, promptly and a lot. You tried the mussels and it was more of the same.

“Marcus, the flavor is amazing. You’ve never made mussels before?” “No, I just followed the recipe.” He said, sheepish, again.

“Shut up. You’re lying. You have to be.” He shook his head and you just looked at him in awe. You didn’t have much to say as you ate the meal, you were too busy enjoying it. You had never just loved mussels, but Marcus made you change your mind. Marcus made them your favorite. You smiled as you ate, and realized that you were falling for him. It made you nervous. Of course, it made you so nervous. You’d been burned before. He had too. It felt too nice, too quick. There wasn’t any drama between you. Over My Head played behind you, and you had to agree, it did feel nice. It felt amazing to be here, enjoying this meal with this wonderful guy.

That’s probably why you leaned over and kissed him. You didn’t really realize you were doing it, it was like your desire took the wheel and steered you right into the wall. He was surprised. There was no warning, no build-up, but he responded in kind. The kiss sealed it for you. The way his lips met yours hungryly. How neither of you let up until you were panting for air. How you both seamlessly slipped from the stools, and stumbled to the couch without breaking apart. How wordlessly you found yourselves exploring each other.

You broke apart for a second, his hands wrapped firmly around your waist as you straddled his hips. He rested his forehead against yours, and struggled for breath.

“I outta cook for girls more often.” He joked, his lips connecting with your jaw and moving lower at a lazy pace. You moaned against the soft trailing, and shifted against him as he sucked softly at your neck. You felt his own stirring beneath you, which you brazenly dipped against. He grunted into your neck, and held you close. “Careful.” He warned, his voice low.

“I think I’d like to skip straight to dessert.” You evened, darkly. He smirked and pulled you down for another kiss.

~~~~

You were laying against his chest, his heart a steady thump beneath you, and you could have probably fallen asleep just like that. His arms were wrapped around you, and his fingers were trailing in your hair or rubbing gentle circles on your back.

“What does this mean for you?” He asked the darkness softly. You felt his heart start to race, and you hoped it was for the same reason your own started racing. You swallowed hard, the words not coming easily. For you, it was so much more than just sex. It was shattering. You’d had casual hook ups before, but this felt like so much more. He took your silence badly.

“It’s just, I’m not a kid, y’know. I’ve been married, divorced, and engaged again. I want something real, and lasting. I can see that for us. I promised myself I wouldn’t get serious fast, but there’s something about you. You know? It’s everything. There’s everything about you. I want to make you dinner all the time. I want to dance with you, and watch movies, and just see your smile. I just have to know if you feel the same, because if you don’t then I can’t be hurt like that again.” You propped up on your elbows to look at him, but his eyes were squeezed shut. Your heart broke for him as he spoke, and you just wanted to put him together. You pressed a kiss against his chest.

“Marcus, I want nothing more than to get to know you, and learn how to make this work. I don’t want to rush in, but I couldn’t wait another second. I want to try this out with you.” He pulled you closer and kissed your forehead. You were happy to see him content, and you were as happy as you could be. It was the start of something amazing.

tagged: @mouthymandalorian

[himbo-beel]

I do here formally request a fic for Beel x You x Barb. Let the fluff, commence!

I've been letting this sit in my inbox for awhile, typing a little bit at a time, wanting to make this something that I think would actually happen so, uh, sorry for the wait but enjoy!

_____

The spoon I held up to Beel's lips dripped with something that smelled like meat and carrots and was the brown color of a stew that had boiled for too long - dark and thick with the shiny sheen of a film on top. My nose wrinkled even as I laughed when Beel's mouth opened, tongue out just enough to rest against the bottom of the spoon. I stretched further up on my toes to give him a taste of the stew and rocked back on my heels, eyes wide to watch for any change in his expression.

Beel's brow furrowed and I frowned. He licked his lips and I held my breath. Finally, he smiled and I laughed.

"Tastes good."

"Does it?" I put the spoon down and reached to the larger one still in the big pot simmering on the stove. My voice shook with another giggle as I stirred. Half of the things that swirled in the broth were ingredients I couldn't name and the other half were things I was sure didn't belong in a stew.

Devil hog and scorpion tail made up the stock with broiled hell chicken chunks tossed in. Carrots, potatoes, the usual vegetables, tenderized next to green beans and asparagus and some strange root vegetable I'd found in the back of the fridge. I scooped up another spoonful and turned to my other side.

"Want to try?"

"No thank you." Barbatos was polite even as he backed away from the offered sample.

"Suit yourself. Beel, you want some more?" He answered me with a hand on my wrist to guide the spoon back up to his mouth and slurping it up loudly.

"I think it needs-"

"What does the recipe call for," Barbatos interrupted, nearing the stove again. His hand hovered over the stove before settling on collecting the bottles of spices and putting them away. He grabbed the recipe book on the way back and placed it on the counter next to the stove.

I made a show of looking it over when I felt Barbatos' eyes on me. There was a reason the book was no longer within eyesight - we'd abandoned it's directions and suggestions four ingredients ago. I hadn't wanted onions and celery in the stock and Beel had asked for devil hog, and who was I say to no to his pleading looks?

I cleared my throat. "The recipe says this makes ten servings."

Barbatos sighed. "And before that?"

I pressed my lips together until I thought I could talk without breaking. "Let sit until cool."

He pinched the bridge of his nose and I grinned. I wouldn't admit that I didn't know what I'd been cooking for the last hour. Half of the fun of it was adding things together to find out what it would taste like.

"I think it's cool enough," Beel said.

"For a human tongue," I asked.

He paused and tilted his head and took another long sip of the soup. "You're right. It should cool down a little more." One more sip. "And it still needs something. Maybe fire salts." Beel's eyes brightened. "Or hellfire-"

"No." Beel's mouth closed and even I stilled under Barbatos' tone. The stern look in his eye dulled into resignation. "I will not have you two ruin dinner any more than you have. Let me..." He didn't finish, instead finally picking up a spoon and dipping it carefully into the stew. I watched his throat bob as he swallowed for taking a bite. His brow twitched.

"So?"

He put the spoon down. "I don't believe even hellfire syrup would be able to save this." I snickered at the remorse in his voice before snapping my mouth shut at the look he gave me.

"Does that mean we can order Hell's Kitchen," Beel asked as he picked up the discarded spoon and began to polish off the stew.

Barbatos shook his head as he headed towards the sink, filling up a glass with water. He took a drink. "I think that's the wisest suggestion you've made in my kitchen all day."

[prideful-sins]

Beel x Fem! MC; Foodplay; Smut

Notes: I was commissioned by a close friend for this piece, that’s why it’s a fem reader and not Gender Neutral like usual

Tags: Foodplay, Creampie, Standing Fuck, Female MC, NSFW//, SMUT, Oral

Word Count: 4.1K

Masterlist | Buy me a Coffee

--

“Wait… are we supposed to add that much flavouring?” You looked down at the recipe and raised a brow, your boyfriend made a curious noise before wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his head on your shoulder, his chin nuzzling into the crook of your neck.

“Does flavouring really matter?” Beelzebub’s tone was whiny, he had asked you to make some cookies for him a little while ago but you had both only just gotten around to actually mixing the ingredients together.

You gave him a giggle before nudging your head playfully against his hair, “of course it does, if we don’t add flavouring then it wont taste nice enough, not that you care either way” your remark made him sigh and you turned your head to place a playful kiss on his cheek, his arms tightening around you as a blush creeped along his cheeks, dusting the tips of his ears and nose a light pink.

“I do care, but it all goes the same way so… so what if it doesn't taste all that good?”

“I want it to taste good because we’re making them together” you placed the recipe card down and turned yourself within his arms, his head leaving your shoulder and lingering close to your face, “okay?” Beelzebub gave a resigned smile and pressed a light kiss on the tip of your nose causing you to giggle and return it. “The cookies should be finished baking soon, they smell amaaaaazing” you sighed dramatically and swooned within Beel’s arms, he laughed and ‘caught’ you before pulling you up and turning you around.

“What are we putting on them?” He asked as you chuckled and grabbed some chocolate.

“I was thinking mint flavoured chocolate?” You snapped off a piece and held it to his lips, Beel spent no time wasted devouring it and swallowing, giving a hearty, affirmative, hum. With a smile you cupped his cheek and rubbed your thumb softly along his cheekbone, as you both stared into eachothers eyes you lost yourself in the moment, the kitchen melting away in your mind and leaving you and Beelzebub alone together. A loud DING snapped you out of your thoughts and Beel’s eyes began sparkling with anticipation.

“Done!” His arms left you and your boyfriend spun around to grab the oven mitts, you simply laughed and turned to the stove, the simmering water boiling underneath the glass bowl, ready for the chocolate to be added.

“You get the cookies and I’ll melt the chocolate, okay?” Beel wasn’t listening, all you could hear was his excited gasps, his smile almost brightening the entire room as you broke pieces of chocolate into the bowl. “Don’t eat any Beelzebub, I mean it.” You heard him groan and the tray hit the cooling rack.

“Please?” He came back to the position he was in before, with his hands resting on your hips, and his nose nuzzled even further into your neck in a desperate plea to change your mind. You merely shook your head and stirred the bowl of melting chocolate.

“No.” He groaned once more and you dipped your finger into the liquid chocolate and Beels eyes widened, you brought your finger up and his head instinctively moved forward to lick it off, but you merely moved to your tongue and licked it yourself. Your tongue moving slowly up your finger and placing it in your mouth, your lips wrapping around and sucking the excess chocolate off.

Beel groaned, but it wasn't his usual whine. You glanced over and saw him looking away from you, desperate not to make eye contact as he leaned his hips out and away from you, a deeper blush than before covering his cheeks. “Beel? Babe? Are you okay?” You looked concerned but he didn’t meet your eyes, his voice was softly mumbled into your shoulder.

“Can you- can you do that again?” He leaned his head up and looked you in the eye, embarrassment shining within his purple eyes as his eyebrows furrowed upwards. You nodded and dipped your finger into the, fully melted, chocolate, your other hand came to the stove controls and turned the pan off, there was a deep heat in your abdomen telling you that this chocolate may be used for something else soon.

As you brought the base of your finger up to your lips you took time showing him your tongue, licking up the digit slowly and letting the chocolate drip down onto your lips and down your chin. Beel’s eyes never left you, he was mesmerized, his hands gripping your hips for dear life as his fingers dug into the fabric of your trousers. His eyes darted to the chocolate dripping down your chin, his tongue licking at his lips before he parted them, a slight gasp of air escaping him as he stared at you.

You looked over and leaned in close to him, the chocolate a hair's breadth away from his lips and before you knew it it had darted out and licked up your chin and to your lips. Quickly you wrapped your arms around his neck to deepen the kiss, tongues already dancing around, bodies aching to know each other more and more. You dug your knee between his legs and forced him to stand up straighter than before, his hands moving from your hips, one resting at the crook of your back, the other holding your lifted leg in place, fingertips digging into the flesh of your outer thigh.

You both gasped for air, lips parting from your heated debate, your hands running up and entwining within his hair desperate to pull him in for another kiss. Your lips crashed together and Beel lifted you to the counter top, your ass barely on the edge, legs wrapping around his waist and pulling him close.

As his groin hit yours you could feel his erection, that’s what he was embarrassed about, you turned him on with the licking, you giggled slightly and ran your hands down his chest, his grunts spurring you to continue touching him. Your hands slithered under his shirt and your fingertips graced the toned definition of his abs. A shudder echoing through your thighs and to your back, a wetness pooling between your legs as your mind ran rampant with what you could do with him.

Beels arms left you and he shrugged off his hoodie, and lifted his shirt off. A desperate whine from the loss of your lips upon his as he came back to you, but instead you directed him to your neck, which he was only happy to kiss. You looked up and wrapped your hands behind his back, nails dragging along his skin and gasps echoing off of the walls, you bit down onto your bottom lip in a vain attempt to stifle your noises. Beel’s hands came to your shirt and he began to undress you, almost tearing the fabric to reveal your bra. He cupped your padded breast and began to squeeze it in a futile attempt to massage but it did no good, his hands came to your back and unclasped the holdings, releasing your confined chest and pulling the fabric down, you worked with him and removed it from your being, throwing it down on the floor without a second thought.

“Beel” you gasped, his attention diverted to the sound of his name staring at you with hungry eyes, “lick me, please I’m begging you”. He smirked and immediately dived to your right nipple, lips sucking along the bud as his tongue worked in small circles around the sensitive skin, his other hand massaging your left breast and working the bud between the bases of two of his fingers. Your left hand clutched a fistful of his orange hair, the other gripping onto the edge of the countertop, your fingers becoming white from the tension within them.

You moaned at the contact, your hips moving of their own accord, feverishly trying to roll into Beel as much as they could, you wanted his dick against your pussy, you wanted him to feel how wet he had made you through your trousers. You continued to moan, your vision hazy with the pleasure, in your frazzled state of mind you looked over to the melted chocolate and got an idea, before quickly grabbing the spoon and swirling it within the liquid before tapping Beel’s head with your other hand and grabbing his attention, he looked at curiously and you drizzled the chocolate over your chest. The lukewarm liquid hitting your skin with a strange sensation, Beelzebub’s eyes merely widened a growl echoed through his throat. He wasted no time in licking it up, spreading it around your chest and grunting happily.

You tugged at Beel’s hair and pulled his face up to meet yours, chocolate spread around his lips and chin. Without hesitation you leaned down and licked it from his chin, moving upwards to his lips before kissing him deeply, he moaned happily and moved his hands to the waistband of your trousers, undoing any buttons and sliding the fabric down, along with your underwear. The cool air hit the wetness of your crotch and you gasped in surprise, sucking the air from Beel’s mouth directly into your own. He smirked and disposed of your clothes, thrown into a heap onto the floor. Beel took the spoon from you and dipped it back into the chocolate, his other hand pushing you down, your back softly hitting the slab of counter behind you, the cool stone causing a shiver to run through your spine.

He hovered the spoon above your stomach and began drizzling the chocolate around your abdomen, your stomach twitching at the sudden contact, and your pussy dripping wet from the anticipation of his touch.

“Please” you whispered, soft and desperate as Beel threw the spoon back into the bowl and kissed the space below your chest. Upon hearing your plea he smiled softly and placed his fingers just above your labia, the tips dancing around the skin, any semblance of a touch reverberating into your clit and sending a shock through your entire lower half. Beel’s tongue came to just above your belly button and he licked up, tasting your pre-sex salt along with the sweet chocolate, as his tongue moved around your body two of Beel’s fingers grazed along the slits of your cunt. Your thighs twitched and your hands shot to the back of Beel’s head, gripping at fistfuls of his hair as you moaned out his name through heaving breaths. 

Your entire body reacted to his fingers, the slick wetness of your puzzy guiding him to finger your clit more and more, his tongue dancing around and licking all over your skin, eager to taste the chocolate he had drizzled all over your abdomen.

“Hah- hah- hah-” your eyes became half lidded, hips rolling around with the rhythm of his fingers. As he finished the chocolate he moved back up to your breast, taking the bud within his mouth once again and softly biting down on the skin. You threw your head back and moaned out once again, desperate for the fire in your stomach to burn brighter with his touch, his smirk was felt between the fangs, mirrored onto your skin as he inserted a finger within you, curling it around and massaging your inner walls. 

All breath left your being, a delighted gasp as Beel inserted another finger, thrusting them within you, slowly opening you up for him later on. Your hips continued to roll, and thighs spasmed as your orgasm climbed within you, the pleasure caused your entire body to want to move with him. A delectable dance that you couldn’t help but join, body moving of its own accord and his lips heavenly sucking against your bud.

Ecstasy. That’s all you could feel in this moment, your eyes half lidded and staring at the far away heavens as God’s name demanded to be on the tip of your tongue in this blessed meeting. Beel’s fingers continued to thrust within you and your mind began going blank, your orgasm creeping up on you and making itself more and more known.

“I’m gonna- hah- I’m” Beelzebub’s lips left your nipple and he leaned up bringing himself close to your face, his lips kissing your jawline as he whispered.

“Cum for me, please, cum for me” You nodded fervently and cupped both of his cheeks, your hips bobbing up and down as his fingers thrust within you. With a last few moans and pants you gasped out his name, back arching and your body convulsing with pleasure, walls clenching around his fingers and gushing out even more wetness upon Beel’s hand. 

As your body slowly calmed down, your breathing heavy but steady, Beel smiled and removed his fingers from you before bringing them up to his lips and licking your juices clean from his digits, eyes sparkling at the taste of you.

“Mm- this is one of the tastes I can never get enough of” he flashed you a toothy grin, and bit the tip of his tongue teasingly as you gave him a breathy chuckle.

“Well, thankfully, this taste will never run out” you leaned up and pressed a kiss on his collarbone, your hands coming to his hips, thumbs hooking within the waistband of his pants. Your heart was still beating erratically within your chest but all of your senses wanted to pleasure him right now, your orgasm satiated you and began leading you to his dick, mouth salivating at the thought of having your lips wrapped around it.

You could hear Beel’s anxious breaths, his cock twitching within his trousers in anticipation of your guiding hands, lungs burning as your hands unbuckled his belt before eagerly shifting the fabric down, your lips came to the base of his neck and you bit at the skin, a light moan coming from the demon as he reacted to the sudden contact, you began sucking it as his hands moved to help you unclothe him. You hopped off the counter top and turned both of you around, pressing him onto the warm spot you had just vacated. Both of you now fully unclothed and pressing his ass against the counter top, Beelzebub took the hint and shifted himself onto the flat surface. His cock bounced against his skin and softly hit you against your upper stomach, a reminder as to just how big a girthy his dick was, as if you could ever truly forget. Your hand roamed around his chest and lips left his collarbone, leaving a few distinct red marks against his skin, fingers playing around his nipples as you explored his abdomen. The muscles driving your body crazy, a fire once again lit within you to test them to their full extent.

One of your hands reached for the spoon, the last dregs of chocolate scooped up and hovered over Beelzebub’s lower stomach, he lay back, leaning his weight on his elbows, and watched you curiously. You returned his gaze and poured the chocolate onto him, the drips moulding around his muscles and heading towards the base of his dick. You placed the spoon back into the bowl and proceeded to grip the base of his dick lightly, your fingers barely touching each other. With a sly grin you winked at him before dipping down and licking off the chocolate, the sweat mixed with the sweetness was strangely addicting, your hand moving of its own accord, slowly beginning to pump him. 

Beel gasped lightly at your touches, his head rolling back as his chest began to rise and fall quicker, light breathy chuckles escaped his throat as he lost himself to your touches. The way your thumb pressed down just a little harder over the veins, your tongue dancing around his muscles, desperately trying to lick him clean to get to his dick. As you polished off the chocolate on his stomach you moved down to what you had desired from the start, the base covered in melted chocolate, your eyes hungrily taking in the sight before you pressed his cock down and licked around, a sharp inhale from Beel as you took him by surprise. 

“Hah!” his gasp was of surprise as you lifted his dick up and cleaned the excess chocolate off of his skin before placing your tongue flat on his balls and licking, very very slowly, all the way up to the tip of his dick. Beads of pre-cum congealed on the end licked clean off as you rolled yourself along his slit, the warm red head beckoning you to suck. You wrapped your lips around the tip, the end of your tongue rolling and massaging his flesh, breathy moans coming from your lover as he let his weight fall off of his elbows and resting his body upon the counter. 

You smiled as much as possible before taking him into your mouth, fitting as much of his length into you as you could, your tongue working to provide extra wetness as you began to bob your head up and down his cock. The tip hit the back of your throat as Beel uncontrollably bucked his hips into you, feet hitting the side of the cupboard with a loud thud, and a slight gag escaping your throat before continuing on your mission to pleasure him. Beel sighed in delight and rested his arm over his flushed face, you looked up at him and could see the sweat beading upon his brow, teeth biting down hard against his bottom lip, the undeniable roll of his hips telling you that he was on the way to his orgasm.

You pulled your lips from him and continued to pump his shaft, licking the excess saliva from your lips and running your free hand up his stomach, taking his attention from his arm to you. “Fuck me, please Beel, I need you right now” 

The ache in your thighs became undeniable, unmanegable, all you wanted was him, you needed him within you, filling you up and fucking you until you couldn’t speak. Beel smiled and sat up immediately, his hands on your waist and lifting you, turning you both around once more and placing you on the edge of the counter. His dick hovering over your entrance, the previous juices of your orgasm already making you ripe for the taking. You wrapped your legs around his torso and locked your feet together behind him, the tip of his dick barely entering you as he resisted, Beel’s hands rested upon your hips and his lips came inch away from yours, the feeling of his breath hot upon your sweaty skin. He hesitated as he took in your scent, a deep breath of you filling his nostrils before kis pressed his lips against yours.

The kiss tasted of chocolate and passion, your eyes closing and letting yourself fall to his seduction as he pushed his dick into you slowly. Your breath hitched in your throat as the pleasure washed over you, the way his dick stretched out your walls, filling every space within you. A light groan came from you, an overstimulated moan as your body twitched with heavenly ecstasy as Beel continued to sheathe himself within you. He pulled away from your lips and pressed his forehead against yours, one of his hands coming to the side of your neck as he gasped for your breath, dick fully within you.

With a swift movement you kissed his jawline and tensed your thighs, impatient for him to move within you. Beel took the hint and pulled out, the sound of your juices slick against his flesh and your breathy moans spurring him to move faster and faster, your hips were restlessly rolling around, eager for his dick to touch more of you. Light moans of Beel’s name built his ego up, his confidence soaring as he slammed his hips into yours, the sudden feeling of ecstasy causing your vision to go white and your head to be thrown back with reckless abandon as you gasped. Beel continued to thrust within you, electricity shooting up your back and out of your chest as you squealed like a pig, unable to contain just how good he was making you feel right now.

His hand moved from your neck and both of them hooked underneath your ass, gripping firmly onto your cheeks, Beelzebub pulled you off the counter and you sunk even further onto his cock, his hands supporting you as if you weighed nothing, his hips thrusting you into the air and gravity pulling you back down, the light slapping of your skin and the breathless moans of each others names only fueling your desire to be fucked. Your breasts bounced along with your body, nipples perked from the arousal of your lover and the coolness of the room, your arms were locked around his neck and you pulled yourself in for another kiss before reaching down with one hand to begin massaging your clit.

Your entire body was trembling as you were thrown onto Beelzebub’s dick, the sheer force of him being slammed into you and hitting your g-spot everytime made your entire being quiver, your vision became blurry, the view of stars blinding you as you prepared to orgasm again. Beel began to shudder and stepped forward to lean you down and thrust his hips into you, his lips kissing along your collarbone and neck, drooling on your skin as his brows knitted together with ecstasy.

“Hah I-” you broke off his sentence with a nod, agreeing that you were on the cusp of an orgasm too. Your hand was almost numb from massaging your clit, your entire lower half, once again, on fire with pleasure. Beelzebubs name repeated like a sinful prayer as you were engulfed in rapture, the slapping of your skin together like a harmonious hymn; your moans the desirable chorus to shout out your confessions.

You came before Beel, your legs shaking from the overstimulation of him fucking you relentlessly accompanied with your fingers massaging your clit. Your walls clenched around him, his face screwing up even harder as you became tighter around his cock, head thrown back in pleasure and deities almost shouted upon in this hour of your fall from grace. Hot and sweaty were the only words that could describe you, hand numb from massaging your clit, heavily breathing through the burning in your chest as Beel thrusted into you the last few times.

He had been quiet for most of this but as soon as he came he was noisy, muttering your name loudly making sure it echoed off the walls so the house could almost hear you, his semen shooting into you as his hands gripped onto your ass, fingernails deep into your flesh and leaving little red marks that were sure to bruise later. You couldn’t feel any pain through the adrenaline, his cock still sheathed within you and twitching as it continued to pump out his load. You leaned forward, hands resting on his pecs, and placed your forehead on the middle of his chest. Both of you panting as you came down from your highs, sweat dripping down your bodies, silence filling the room in the most loving way.

Beel gave you a breathy chuckle and proceeded to nuzzle his nose into your hair, his hands coming up your back. “That was one of the best workouts I’ve ever done” you laughed in response and looked up at him.

“Me too, we should work out like this alot more” you kissed him and Beel pulled himself out of you, his load dripping out of your pussy and down onto the floor in a satisfying little pool. Both of you were still out of breath and shaking, your fingers roaming each other’s bodies and kisses dotten upon salty skin, little giggles here and there as you tickled parts of eachother.

A few minutes had gone by and you had calmed down enough to try and stand, and stand you did not. As soon as any weight was placed upon your knees they gave way and Beel helped to keep you standing. “Woah careful!” you laughed and stood up straight, knees wobbling a little, like a newborn foal.

“I got this” you kissed his cheek and bent down to grab your clothes from the floor, “I have to go and clean this up and there better be cookies when I get back”

Beel smiled and nodded fervently, jokingly saluting you “Yes ma’am”

[mxvladdy]

A Break- Chapter 5

Oh lord this took too long and ‘bout killed me. I hope my edits are good! 

It’s a biggen so it’s all under the cut! 

Hope y’all like it! I know it was long over do :/

He dreams of dragons. A swirling blur of purples, reds, and yellows. His mindscape was a rich profusion of colors. Two become sharper standing out in the sea of hues. His father’s dragon emerges from the mass. The great black dragon floats ethereally around him, judging him. But, unlike the years spent under his father's tutelage, all he got were stern looks and cold words of praise. Now, he can feel a warm sense of- pride. Was his father finally proud of him? How? Of what? Next to him, another dragon appears. His mother’s dragon wove around the long form of his father. Black and pearly pink twisting and revolve hypnotically around his body. They radiated peace, and rest. An urge to join them began to overwhelm him. A break sounded nice. He deserved one, didn’t he?

When was the last time he had felt this at peace? There were a few times perhaps in recent memories. A blurry face comes to mind. A sweet smile and a laugh that is so warm and bright. He remembers the feel of soft fingers scratching along his goatee. He felt at peace then, safe and loved. It gives him pause- the urge to slip away waning. His paternal dragon stops its coiling, eyes locking with his partner. He pulls backs, separating from his mate. His mother’s dragon chirps, drifting closer and closer, she tries to touch her son. Her whiskers mere inches from his floating hand. Obsidian claws stop her from touching her eldest. His father’s dragon huffs once in warning, shaking its great head. His mother snaps at the claw, stubborn in her convictions. She wanted her son back, safe within her clutches in the afterlife. Had he not gone through enough? From the clan to his own penances? She had been so close to getting her youngest back years ago. Yet she had been robbed then too.

She wouldn’t be denied twice.

Hanzo watches helplessly as the two beasts argue in a language he does not know. He is torn between a want to be here with them, and the warm thoughts trickling slowly back into his mind. The pearlescent dragon rears back with a cry of anguish, nostrils flaring at whatever the black dragon had said. She makes eye contact with him once more. The dragon’s eyes were the same color as his mother's before she turned from him leaving his line of sight. His father gave him one last look filled with, pride? Before disappearing too. He shouts for them, crying out for his mother. To not be left alone again. But they were silent in the void. Not even in death was he good enough.

He floats again, or lays? He truly cannot tell what axis or plane he was on. But he could still feel. He felt cold and so so tired. Where were his dragons? If his parents were here surely his dragons must be too. He calls for them, but he gets no answer. The seal on his arm was horribly quiet.

He can do nothing but drift now.

He hears things sometimes, a soft sweet voice reading to him. Other times it’s a smooth accented voice walking him through something they were about to do. Hallucinations or reality he couldn’t tell. They get stronger though. Soon he begins to feel a warmth on his face. Like he was basking in the heat of the summer sun. Other times it’s the brush of something cool and wet on his neck and arms. The fingers were too smooth to be human but dexterous like them. They were humming, the tinny and augmented drone familiar. Hanzo knew that melody, he knew that voice, but he just couldn’t place it. Hanzo listens for a while, floating on the melody before it too disappears. They leave him, only an incisive beeping echoing in his head for company.

His dragons come to him after what felt like an eternity. Akuma approaches first, his massive body colliding with Hanzo’s. The archer clings to the great beast burying his face into the fur. Hanzo cares little for the claws puncturing his skin and scratching him as Akuma clicks and coos in delight. Ibuki wraps herself around them both, quiet but vibrating with relief. Hanzo opens his mouth to speak. His throat clicks, dry and inflamed. Something is choking him.

No-rest. We will get you out soon. Out? He stiffens in their warm embrace. He didn't want out. It was nice here, quiet. He didn't feel pain or much of anything in here. He could stay like this... No. Akuma nips his cheek in aggravation. Family, they need you. She needs you-

It comes back to him hard and fast. His last kiss with you before leaving for the terminal. The video before bed. Him whispering goodnight to your sleeping face ending the call before turning in himself. To the security breach and his fight. He needs to get back. If his parents left him here then he should wake up. Why wasn't he waking up? We will protect. His dragons nuzzle him once more before they push away returning to the great beyond, promising to take care of you while he gets stronger. Their determination fuels him to fight, to survive.

He trains his mind to pick up on the noises and touches happening around him while he waits. He picks up the tick of a clock and the sound of waves by his side. Their constant background noise soothing and grounding. Genji comes daily to hum and chat in their native tongue. He spoke of idle, sweet little things. The weather, who was on kitchen duty that evening, the training schedule. He sounded so hopeful every time he visited. Like his big brother was going to wake up at any moment and respond. After Genji came Mei and Ana. The two mostly acted like he was with them and discussed whatever book they were reading while waiting on him. They would come in the evenings and read passages aloud for him. It was a welcomed break from the monotony of silence. Ana came more often than Mei. He could smell the tea she would bring in when she sat by his side reading aloud in Arabic. Ah- her favorite book of poetry. She never translated this book for him, but between her cadences and phrasing, she wove the beauty of the verses nonetheless.

Ana was interrupted today though. Midway through a verse, she stopped. Her tongue stumbling over itself uncharacteristically. Hanzo felt her shift and rise without another word. He recognized Baptiste and Angela's voices talking to her, their voices low and hurried. He hears Ana laugh gently and the door to his room snaps shut.  His doctors bustle around him for a moment though he senses another person in the room with them. Odd- unless his brother came back. No, much too quiet to be him. Angie and Baptiste leave quickly, their check-up done, leaving him alone with the new visitor.

"Hey, Hanz." A soft voice brushes his cheek. "How are you today?" Hanzo’s heart hurts. How did- when did you come here. He wanted to be angry, to yell at you for coming to such a dangerous place. He wanted to hunt down whoever found you and throttle them. This was putting you in harm’s way. Yet, at the same time, he wished he could see you. He wished he could tell you how much he missed you and that he was there. Instead, floats in his own subconscious. “I-Angie says that you might hear me. Something about your brain scans?” You squeeze his hand with a light chuckle. You trail off distracting yourself by rubbing soothing patterns in his palm. “If-if you can, know that I know. Not everything, your brother has been so kind to me.” You squeeze his hand, bordering on almost uncomfortable. “But I need to hear the things he said from you. So-so get better soon, please? I miss you.” Now more than ever he wishes he could comfort you. Why hadn't he just swallowed his pride early? This could have been avoided. He hoped at least.

The rest of your visit passes too quickly for his liking. The scant bit of privacy he had with you was filled with your tender voice and gentle touches. He felt your fingers brush along his smooth jaw, stroking it like you did whenever you would lounge in bed sweaty but happy after a lengthy reunion. The kisses you placed on his brow were just as sweet too. You only left after one of the doctors came in to force you out to get dinner and stretch.

You poke at the warm meal Ana had plated for you in the mess hall. The steaming rice and tomato covered lentils sitting comfortably in your stomach. “Eat, dear. Then I think it’s best if you take a nap. When was the last time you slept horizontally?” Ana winks at you over her shoulder stirring a pot filled with browning onions and spices. The elderly medic had lost count of the number of times she had walked in on you sleeping in the chairs in the medical wing.

“I’m fine-really.” You smile rubbing at your sore neck. The hospital chairs here were soft, sure, but not meant for daily sleeping. Ana snorts but doesn’t say anything more on the matter. Instead, she distracts your haggard mind with recipes and tea ideas, sprinkling in little stores of her childhood. You find yourself relaxing more and more; the time between when you wanted to get back to Hanzo’s side and since you sat down for dinner growing longer and longer in between. You yawn widely, failing to cover it with your mouth with your hand. “Shit- sorry.” You flush. The other woman waves it off.

“It’s fine sweetheart. Just means my food and company did its job.” She smiles collecting both of your dishes to place them in the sink. “Come-let me escort you to your room.”

“You really aren’t going to let me go back huh?”

“Not a chance child. He isn’t going anywhere trust me.” She grips the back of your shirt to lead you in the opposite direction of the ICU. You scowl but follow along, dragging your feet along a little in the process.

You had been offered Hanzo’s room when you landed last week. It had been untouched since he had been transferred to the Ilios base. But you couldn’t, it felt almost rude to. He hadn’t consented to any of this. It just felt wrong. His room was what you had always imagined. Clean and tidy, the few items he had well loved and maintained. Some looked pricy, but most were homey little things that must have reminded him of Japan. You ask to stay in a vacant room but still find yourself in his room from time to time, dusting his heavy bookshelf or to vacuum his rug and shake the linens out. You only broke down once in his room, but it was enough for you to never want to go back in there. Not until Hanzo was back living in it. While mopping one day you stumbled across a little box, it was your box, the old thing was filled with letters. The creases in the paper thin and tearing from constantly being opened and reread over and over again. The trinkets you had sent him over the years were worn, but clean. The metal pins and coins shiny and discolored from fingers rubbing them lovingly. You put the box back where you found it and leave. Athena could clean from now on.

Genji and Angie had discussed a lot with you since you took up residence. You were grateful for their updates and check-ins. Baptiste even gave you some reading about what to expect when Hanzo is up and going through physical therapy. He emphasized that the longer he was in the ICU the longer recovery could be. “But don’t stress,” He pats your hand warmly. “That man is as stubborn as an Ox. He’ll bounce back in no time!”

You hope so. From the bits Genji told you after they found him...it had been- disparaging. The road had been rocky, though they wouldn’t disclose all the details to you. The first few weeks were touch and go before Angie finally could sign off on putting him under medically. She spoke as simply as she could but it was still a lot for you. But she was certain he would pull through, and that as soon as he could breathe on his own again she would begin the process of waking him up.

How long that would take no one knew.

You met quite a few interesting characters while you sat vigil by his bedside. Mei is a riot. The plucky young scientist is a delightful conversationalist and had many stories about Hanzo. When she talked about him you could immediately understand why they were friends. Both mathematically minded and sentimental to a fault.

Satya was more pensive when she visited at first, but warmed up to you gradually over talks of your business. Her eyes lit up when you told her your struggles with tin designs. “Let me design some for you. Your tins are wonderfully shaped, but ultimately boring.” She looks down at Hanzo’s resting form. She strokes his head lightly. The stubble growing on his crown had been recently washed. Baptist came in earlier to remove the stitches around his temporal lobe.  “I’ll send you some designs tonight.” She nods curtly before leaving you alone again. Over the next few weeks, you gradually met the rest of the agents. Whether it be them coming to say hello and check up on their comrade or in the kitchen, welcoming you to a warm meal, and thousands of questions about how you met.

It wasn’t until the second month of your stay did you meet Hanzo’s dragons. It was late, later than any of the medical staff would advise you to stay up. But, you could only stay away from work for so long and it was finally quiet. You were working by Hanzo’s side, the beeping of his monitor lulling you into a trance while you read over your spreadsheets. At first, you didn’t notice, the rhythmic beeping of his machinery was white noise to you at this point. The first few hitches you missed, too preoccupied with moving numbers and shipments around. The skips steadily grew faster and more erratic, it pulls your focus from your screen. “Hanzo?” You toss your laptop to the side, ready to buzz for help. He doesn’t move, not even a flicker behind his eyelids. Nothing was out of place until you touched him. His arm is warm underneath your fingers. Too warm, near scorching. You yelp in pain falling back at a sudden blinding light that erupts from his tattoo. The room fills with a blaze of blue and gold, the energy of the blast knocks you to the floor. You scream as two massive dragons irrupt from him. They swirl around the tiny space, scleraless eyes scan the room for something.

That something just happened to be you. Two sets of eyes lock with yours. Large fanged jaws open wide, hackles raised. You sit frozen in awe and terror. Were they going to kill you? No-surely not. Genji said they would recognize you-hypothetically. They were an extension of their master's souls. The two lunge for you, three-clawed feet open wide like birds of prey. Squeezing your eyes shut you wait for the impact of scales and teeth.

Two small projectiles collide with you. The force of which knocks the air from you. “Oph!” You wheeze arms wrapping instinctively around the squirming warm creatures clinging to your chest. Two thin dry tongues flick out and tickle your jaw and cheeks.

“I heard a scream! Are you-” Genji burst in looking about frantically, his wakizashi drawn and at the ready. Angie and Baptist barge in behind him, both armed as well. “Oh.” Genji gasps, his sword drops limply to his side. “Aniki.” You look up from your prone position, still dazed and confused by the now tiny blue dragons nestled on your stomach.

“Are you alright?” Genji asks, helping you up back to your feet and righting your upturned chair. His eyes never leave the two spirits in your hands. You nod meekly. “Come, let’s give them room to work.” He takes one last look at his brother and the doctors before leading you out with him. “What happened?” He asks in the hallway eyeing the two blue dragons now wrapped around your upper body. He punches in the code for his room and lets you in.

“I-I don’t know.” The larger of the two dragons chirps as it loses its grip on your sweater. You scoop it up to nuzzle your neck like you would an infant. It coos, wrapping its fluffy tail around your wrist. The slimmer smaller one squawks indignantly, jealous of its partner's attention. It too nuzzles at your neck, draping itself around you like a scarf. “One minute I was balancing my checkbooks, and the next I heard the heart monitor going crazy. Then these two jump me.” You glanze up at Genji. He looks so hopeful. A small sigh of relief escapes him. “Is this good?”

Genji sighs heavily and flops onto his bed. He rubs at the synthetic skin of his chin thoughtfully. He points at the two dragons. “Look at how translucent they are. It takes a lot of energy to summon them to our realm.” You clutch at the squirming reptiles taking a good look at them. The two look at you with large innocent eyes. What he said was true. You could see your hands through their bodies. Their scales were dull and lacked the luster of Genji’s dragon. The larger one’s left antler was chipped and flaking onto the floor. The smaller one was very thin and hollow looking. Genji sighs looking miffed. “My best bet is they told Hanzo you're here and he sent them out to look after you. Which is sweet, but foolish. Summoning when we are mentally or physically weak could kill us if we are not careful.” He drags his fingers through his hair in frustration.

“What happens now?”

He shrugs. “I can’t say. It’s up to him now. But, I believe this is a good sign.” Genji reaches out and scratches behind one of the dragon's ears. “Thank you for coming out to us.” He speaks directly to the dragons, bowing his head low in respect. They preen, clicking and cooing in delight. Genji’s little dragon appears shortly after jumping into the fray of blue and gold.  You sit in the cyborg’s cozy room watching Hanzo’s dragons play. For the first time in ages your chest cliches with something other than fear.

It takes another 3 weeks for Hanzo to open his eyes. Of course, he had to do it the one night you decided to sleep in a bed. Your back had been pleading for days for a normal night's rest. It felt like your head had barely hit your pillow before his two dragons woke you. Tiny claws kneading your stomach and chest. They were solid and heavy. Their scales are bright and iridescent. The larger one, Akuma bumps your face hard with his antlers. Huge, arching healthy antlers. He trills at you expectantly.  

Genji beats you to the medical ward by seconds. His exhaust vents pumping steam out like a geyser. He speaks quickly, his words fast and agitated. He switches languages rapidly, getting more and more agitated at the blank look the assistant barring the door gives him. He is getting flustered and quickly. His green lights blazed brighter and brighter with agitated arm gestures.

“Genji-Genji!” You rest a gentle hand on his cold shoulder. He rounds on you blindly, eyes electric. The hairs on your arm begins to rise as his dragon begins to awaken just under the surface. His temper cools when he recognizes just who was trying to calm him. You glance over to the trembling medical assistant. “Come- we’ve waited this long. They will get us when it’s safe to.” You assure your friend. Genji nods jerkily, taking your offered hand. He follows you down the hall back to his room. You were both tense and vibrating with nervous energy.

You lead Genji to his room, much like he did weeks ago. Punching in his room code you collapse onto the mountain of pillows he had on the floor for a chair the moment the door closed. You hug his pillows close, trying to quell the butterflies in your stomach “He’s up.” Genji spoke in awe. You crane your neck to look as Genji paces around you. His tone was tight but hopeful. “He’s up- He’s ok.” He smiles down at you, his face the brightest you had ever seen it. He wipes at his eyes and exhales a curse of joy. Dropping down next to you, he sits cross-legged by your side.

“Yes-” It was all you could manage to say. You squeeze his knee in reassurance, your own eyes prickling around the corners. Hot tears threatening to overflow. You didn’t want to admit it to him, to anyone, but you had started to lose hope. How many times had you sat there painstakingly etching each and every angle and blemish on Hanzo’s unconscious face into your memory, just in case it was to be your last time with him? How many nights had you held your breath, eyes locked with the complex monitors and pumps looking for something, hitch in his breath, or a twitch of a finger. Something to tell you he was still there. A wave of guilt washes over you just thinking of how he had woken up alone, how you weren’t there for him.

It’s not like he knew you were here, but it hurt your heart regardless. Doubt hits you. Would he even want you here? He clearly had no intentions of telling about this part of him. He had his crew to support him, and his brother here. “What are you going to say?” Genji asks gently. You feel his warm human hand land on top of yours giving you a comforting squeeze.

“What are you planning to say?” You parrot.

Genji thinks on it for a second, biting the synthetic skin of his lower lip. “Ugh- that’s why I asked you first! I don’t know if I want to punch him for making us all worry, or hug him.”

“I wish I had an answer too.” You confess. “I don’t even know if I should go see him.”

“What!” Genji gasps. “You have to! He’ll be so happy to see you.”

“Genji,” You roll on to your side. “I’m not even supposed to be here.” You nestle into the multicolored pillows rubbing at your eyes wearily. “Maybe it would be best if I went back home. Give him some space to recover. Give whatever this is time.” Your conversation partner goes quiet. His dark eyes, so expressive like his brothers bore into you. It wasn’t judgment. Nothing of the sort. It was understanding and flickers of sympathy.

“Do you want to leave?” He asks. No. Deep down you didn’t, but the high of hearing Hanzo's condition was slowly being replaced with the reality of the situation. The reality of what now? You shrug hiding your face in your arms too ashamed to admit. He lets you stew for a moment. “My brother-” He starts slowly. “My brother is many things, he is prideful and arrogant. Sometimes to the point of being unbearable to deal with. He can be as immovable as a mountain, as you might say bullheaded. ” Genji chuckles. “But, he is incredibly patient, I never noticed it as a child…but now, it’s a trait I envy.” He rubs at his eyes thinking back to the box he found in his brother’s room, the hidden pictures of you and him. He had never seen his brother so relaxed before. He would do anything to keep seeing that smile on his brother’s face. “I guess what I’m trying to say is,” Genji continues. “ just please try to see him once? If you're able to talk to him, do. I can tell you’re special to him, he will do what it takes to make this work.”

You bob your head in understanding, working to swallow around the lump growing in your throat. “I’m scared.” You admit timidly. Genji gives you a gentle pat on the leg.

“It is a scary situation, but trust me when I say you have nothing to fear from Hanzo.”

Genji leaves you at that, you both decided that when they were given that all clear to see Hanzo he should go first. He tries to object, but it was merely a formality. You could see how desperate he was to go. You spend your time waiting in his room, with his dragon Mizuki and her siblings. They could tell you were in distress and tried their hardest to comfort you. Their warm bodies blanket yours, their purring helping drift you off to sleep.

A sharp knock wakes you and your three dragons. They all perk up, ears all twitching towards the door. Akuma growls low in his throat. You open the door to Angie. She beams at you, hand hovering mid-knock. “Ah good! Sorry if you were resting.Hanzo was asking for you.” She steps back to let you out. Mizuki yips shrilly and leaps at the doctor. She catches them gracefully and strokes their head. “You can visit briefly. I am still monitoring him.”

“Right- thank you Angie.” You turn to go.

Angie stops you with a firm hand on your shoulders. “His larynx and trachea are still healing. Talking on his end is strictly forbidden, understand?” You nod. “I’m keeping him for observation for the next week- you are welcome to visit whenever he is feeling up to it.” With that she gives your shoulders a firm clap and lets you go. You walk slowly to the medbay, Hanzo’s dragons quiet and contemplative on your shoulders. For all your anxiety your mind was completely blank. Where would you even start? Knocking softly on the door to Hanzo's private room you enter.

The sigh of relief that escapes is loud in the open space. He turns to watch you from his inclined position on his hospital bed. He looks better. The tubes and wires helping him breathe and heal had been condensed down to just a heart monitor, IV drip, and oxygen. You take in the muted colors of healing bruises on his face and chest. He hardly looked like himself though. His face was clean shaven from surgery and his hair buzz cut short. It wasn’t him, but it didn’t matter. The fire was still there behind his dark eyes. They still screamed strength and perseverance. It was the same look that had attracted you from the start.

Hanzo regards you heavily, his expression gives nothing away as you come to sit by him. His fiery eyes flicker for a moment when he notices the unshed tears threatening to spill down your cheeks. He opens his mouth to speak and winces. Each breath felt like fire in his lungs. Hanzo rubs at his bandaged neck in agony. “You know you’re not allowed to talk.” You chastise him rushing up to grab his water and straw. He waves it away with a frown and sinks back into the thin pillows of his bed. You sit back down, playing with the metal straw between your fingers. “We have a lot to talk about huh?” You ask to break the silence. Hanzo huffs at the understatement of the century. He rubs his sweaty palms across the sheets covering the stumps of his legs. You watch him, he always rubbed at his knees when he was nervous. You reached for his hand not filled with wires and tubes, but stopped. Hanzo grabs your hand before you could pull it back. His large hand covering yours, he was so warm and safe. “I’m sorry.” You can feel yourself falling apart at the seams. A mix of relief and anxiety creating an indescribable feeling in you.

Damn, what were you even apologizing for? Knowing his secret? Learning about the Shimada clan without his consent, especially since he made it clear he had no intentions of telling you himself. Genji hadn’t told you everything, but it was enough to add fuel to the fire of nightly rants with his dragons. You wipe at your face hating how hot your skin felt with tears. Hanzo tugs at your hand to get your attention. “Wha-” He grunts pointing to the side table by the door and mimes writing on his palm. His com and phone sat innocently alongside his gold ribbon and a few get-well cards and dried flowers, all gifted to him by the team. He takes the phone from you eagerly and opens up to his notes app. He writes out something quickly and trusts it at you without hesitation.

I love you, I’m sorry

What little resolve you had left breaks at his admission. You pepper his waxy skin with tear streaked kisses “I love you too- truly.” You whisper into the bandages on his skull. The strong smell of antiseptics not deterring you in the least bit. He catches a stray kiss and turns back to his screen with vigor.

I know I have much to explain, secrets that I’ve held for too long and for no reason. You were never at fault for any of this, I trust you implicitly I have for a while.  

Hanzo swallows thickly, thumbs hovering over the keyboard while you read in silence.

I know I have damaged what trust you must have had in me. If this is too much, if you deem this unsalvageable… I cannot blame- I would never blame you for wanting to step back. If you desire a clean break.

“Hanzo-” He wouldn’t-

But, if you are willing to give me a chance- I will give you everything. If you are willing to wait…

He looks to you waiting. You would either stay or leave, it was up to you. You read and reread his words, both of you trying to ignore the uptick on his heart monitor. You click the phone off and put it on the windowsill. Breathing deeply you stare blindly out the window. You don’t answer with words. Truthfully you think you had any that would express what you felt in that moment. Instead, you take his hand in both of yours. You kiss along his knuckles, brushing your lips along each scar you see, both old and new alike. You knew them all by heart. They had been a calendar of sorts, the mending of torn skin and removal of stitches, your anchor. They were what kept you going on the hardest nights, they kept you knowing that the wait was worth it. You couldn’t think of stopping now, fear be damned. “I’ll be here as long as you need.”

The smile that graces his face was well worth the wait.

[velnoni]

Let Me Adore You

Commissioned for @narutos-fat-meat

Pairing: Todoroki Shouto x Sero Hanta

Word Count: 2.6k

Also on Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29141784

Summary: “Instead of regretting what we cannot do, it is better to do what one can.” A meeting that runs against the time of death. A story about the short blossoming love between a kitsune and a dying human. Truly it’s beautiful in it’s own right.

Tags: angst, fluff, food, implied sexual interaction/intercourse, sad ending, death.

Conscious comes rather slow, sluggish like honey being squeezed out of a container. When Sero had finally woken up it wasn’t in his bed. And he wasn’t lying down but rather sitting on his knees in the nightwear he went to bed in. Beside him was a small basket he’d brought to bed with a bright yellow balloon, barely filled with air tied to the handle. He yawns loudly and blinks the sleep away before slowly rising to his feet.

Where he was a land bordering between two worlds. His world and something...entirely else. He remembers the first time he woke up here, frightened and lost as he wandered around the endless field. Green grass going miles and miles as far as the human eye could see, trees so tall and proud and lined up with impeccable symmetry that if Sero were a child he would’ve loved to sit on its sturdy branch and call out to friends below. The first time he’d had come here he was barefooted and prayed that it was all just a strange dream. It was what motivated him to keep running until bare legs touched the water of this world. What had brought him to the ocean? He didn’t know. He hadn’t even realized he was walking into the ocean until the salty seawater reached up the thighs of his scrawny limbs. The water was cold, incredibly cold. And all Sero could do was stand still and look out to the ocean that stretched far beyond the horizon.

It was heavenly and outrageously enthralling. The sky had a slash of purple rippling through the orange and pinks that decorated the air. Clouds swirled about and Sero could see the sphere of the sun in the far distance. It was as if someone had been given a paintbrush and had let their imagination run wild. The mesmerizing colors of the sky, shimmering so brightly in his onyx eyes that all Sero could do was sigh in awe. The air was crisp and clean, a far cry from the city. The building anxiety had just melted away.

“What are you doing here?” And then he’d met him. The voice, stoic and voided of life, reverberates through the air. It was slightly deep and authoritative enough to startle the meek human and caused Sero to fall in the water. Salt had filled his lungs for a few seconds before he came up for air, limbs thrashing and him gasping and snorting the water out of his system. His pajamas were stuck tight to his skin and his now wet hair obscured his vision.

He calls out “Who are you?” At the moment he didn’t get a look at the person. He was still busy gaining some proper footing. But when Sero had pushed his hair out his face with both hands he was surprised at what he saw. A kitsune, with neatly parted hair that reminded him of a candy cane. Heterochromatic eyes consisting of grey and blue, cold and stoic like his face. He was tall, taller than Sero and something about him screamed authority. There was a scar on his face that was somehow attractive in its own right and he wore a kimono dark enough to be mistaken for black with white petals adorning it spatially.

He was beautiful. Perhaps Sero would’ve enjoyed the view more if he weren’t informed that a human being so close to the shore meant that they were soon to die.

The basket bounced with each step Sero took until finally, a small traditional Japanese house came into view. If someone had told him that he started walking faster he wouldn’t deny it. It’s just that he was eager to see Todoroki that’s all. He never met a kitsune before, let alone one mysterious as him. The house was a decent size and the only thing besides land that Sero could spot, something about domains Todoroki had explained at one point. Upon reaching the house he opened the wooden gate and immediately went to the back as he did upon earlier occasions.

Peeping from behind he saw the kitsune sitting on a blanket with his eyes closed. His hands lay gently in his lap. Today he was wearing a white yukata, crisp and clean like freshly hung laundry. He looked to be at peace. A gentle breeze flows and it stirs the tranquility of his dual-colored hair. The words beautiful echo in Sero’s head as he steps forward. The soft crunching of the grass makes Todoroki’s ear visibly twitch and he slowly opens his eyes to see the scrawny human holding a basket out.

“Brought ya something.”

...

The two sat beside each other, Sero watching with dutiful eyes as the kitsune sunk his fangs into the meal he made. It was a steamed meat bun, no longer warm but just as tasty telling from the minuscule rising of Todoroki’s eyes. After spending time with him it’s gotten easier for Sero to pick out his little quirks. It made it easier to converse.

“It’s good. Thick and rich.” His Adam apple bobs when he swallows the rest of the treat down and Sero's eyes follow. His fluffy tails, four of which Sero found peculiar (Todoroki had explained he’s still young) poofed up and swayed as Todoroki stares down at him in expectation. The raven hair laughs, joyful and uncaring, and sets out another plate. The yellow balloon attached to the handle steadily grows as the two spend the night together. They talk about trivial things, mostly Sero taking and Todoroki humming but very much immersed in the conversation about his mundane life. Sero doesn’t miss how Todoroki leers at him when he talks about one of his friends. It puts him on edge but in all honesty, he already has one foot in the door.

When the yellow balloon is round and succulent, ready to pop he bids Todoroki a goodbye with a promise to bring the recipe on his next visit.

Todoroki is hesitant when Sero wags the strange pastry in front of him. The spices were strong and the wet, white, and gooey sugary substance dribbled down the sides of the bread and onto Sero’s fingers. Sero had called a cinnamon bun. And it would be rude of him to not eat what his...what was Sero to Todoroki? He never truly pondered the status of their relationship. Hanta Sero was an interesting human. Even knowing that his days are counted he comes with assortments from his world just to share with someone like him. The person who would lead him to the afterlife. It left a grime taste in his mouth when he thought that way but that was reality.

The way his onyx eyes twinkled, reflecting the colors of the sea. How silly he looked completely drenched like a dog. He was interesting from the very start. His stomach rumbles.

The human looks up at him, slanted eyes and an ordinary thin smile. The cinnamon bun is still in his hands. Todoroki bows down a bit and sinks his mouth on the sugary treat, his tongue grazing the tips of Sero’s fingers, eyes staring in human as he slowly consumes the food. He pulls off slowly, his gaze heated as he swallows. Sero had long since retracted his hand, face tinged red as the fur on Todoroki’s skin.

He licks his sharp nails of the sweetness, eye crinkling a bit as he hums in content. “It’s sweet.” If it were anyone else they would think Todoroki is stating the obvious, that the way his tail puffed out was simply a coincidence and that Sero was simply just a friend.

“I-I’m glad you liked it!” So what was Sero to Todoroki?

...

The next time they ate together Sero had used the kitchen in his home, this time bringing four balloons to extend his stay. Todoroki noticed how Sero despite being a decent height for a human had to tiptoe to reach the cabinets. His shirt would ride up a bit and he could see the outline of his scapula poking. The ears upon his head twitch at the thought of wrapping his arms around Sero. Would he jump in surprise at the embrace? Would Todoroki feel the poke of his bones against his chest? Or perhaps Sero would press into his touch and allow someone like him to give him warmth. His mind is in the cloud, thinking up small scenarios as the aroma of curry fills the air. He almost goes to ask but forgets when his name is called out.

Another time he visits the sky is dark with stars in the sky. Beautiful and speckled across the heavens. He would’ve adored the sight a bit more if Todoroki wasn’t sucking his lips dry. The kiss is wet and feverish, needy and consuming Sero’s oxygen. Sharp fangs nick Sero’s tongue and a soft moan is dragged out with little effort before Todoroki is gently shoved off. There's frustration in his eyes at being disturbed.

“Didn’t think you would be so forward Todoroki ~” the teasing of his voice earns him an uncharacteristic huff and the beautiful trails behind the kitsune flare a bit. “Is it wrong to claim what’s mine?” And although the words were flattering Sero wasn’t stupid. He wasn’t blind to the predator like stare Todoroki sent him when he thought he was looking. How Todoroki almost swallowed his finger whole. The purrs he lets out when Sero combs his tail. He was sure that there would have to be strong trust between a kitsune and the other for their tail to be touched. Like an honor or something. But at the same time, it felt like Todoroki was holding himself from enjoying. Well, at least tonight was a change of pace.

“No. Not at all” he finally answered. Just how much time did he have left? His brows furrow in disdain but he snaps out of his when he feels his shorts being tugged down.

“Pay attention.” Shouto shifts himself upward to loosen his yukata, the fabric slipping out in a lewd manner. There was low rumbling in Shouto’s chest as pins Sero down. He was sure at some point he had lost consciousness after what happened.

Sero wondered idly the next day that if they were in his house would the neighbors hear him scream.

...

“So why did you live all alone here?” This time a green balloon was attached to a tree branch as they sat together, staring outward into the pretty landscape. Their pinkies were connected, an option much preferred than full on hand-holding. Todoroki doesn’t answer, at least not at first. It takes a while to break down his walls, Sero notes for each time he visits. So instead of answering Todoroki stares into the vast scenery of yellow and orange. For a second a flash of pain filters through his eyes but it is gone before Sero notices.

His answer makes Sero laugh. A very soft and ebullient laugh that makes Todoroki’s cheeks tinge ever so delicately. It’s weaker than before.

“I guess I like to be alone.”

...

It’s two weeks till Sero’s next visit and Todoroki idly wonders if he miscalculated when Sero would pass away. And even if he did he would’ve known, he would’ve felt it. Tending to the garden by himself wasn't out of the ordinary but he missed scolding Sero for slacking off or hissing when he sometimes jumps on his back to scare the poor yokai. When he finally saw Sero trekking up the hill no he did not pounce him and no he didn’t nuzzle into his chest. Todoroki was not on the verge of crying...although he did like it immensely when Sero coos at how cute he was. It was a rare sight, a large fox-like creature straggling in the lap of a sick human. He didn’t even notice the plastic wristband on Sero’s arm.

Fate was fickle and mocking at its victim was it not?

...

“You smell strange.” 

“Yeah, the hospital got a strange smell. Bunch of old people and chemicals and stuff.” 

“You look tired.” Someone yawns. “I guess I am.”

 “Would you care to rest beside me?”

“...I don’t think I'll be coming back here.”

“I know. It’s my job to guide you across the ocean and I’ll fulfill it to the end.”

“Hanta.” He gets a strange look. “Call me Hanta.” “Then call me Shouto.”

...

A bunch of balloons, so many with messages and with flowers that Shouto immediately recognizes when Hanta wakes up by the shore. The calling was already having the human walk in the shivering waters. He swallows the lump in his throat. People die all the time, it's normal.

He’s led so many people across the shore but never once had a human fed him as Hanta did. Laughed when there was nothing to laugh about. Asked questions that he’d no doubt not get an answer to. He never gave up. He was an ordinary person...no; an extraordinary person to Shouto. He loved him. He loved him so fucking much that it hurts, that the greedy side of him wanted to lock Hanta up in his house for good. But it wasn’t possible. It never was.

“Shouto!” He was waving at the kitsune. Hanta wore a smug smile on his face, the hospital gown fluttering just above the water. His hair was neatly combed down and Todoroki fought the urge to kiss his forehead. Instead, he stood a few steps away on the sand, arms full of flowers. He stares and stares at Sero with a gloomy emanation. He finally understood his resolve. How could he not realize it? “Hanta I love you.”

“I love your cooking, how you laugh, your eyes—everything!” His cheeks felt warm. Warm like when Hanta had first kissed his cheek. Warm like how the food filled his growling stomach. Burning like their night of passion. He blabbers on, more vocal and more vulnerable than he’s ever been in centuries. “I love you. So so much...I didn’t want to say it because I knew this would happen! I was lonely but you changed that.” There’s a crack in his voice when he confesses. The swarm of regret and insecurities, the love he held for this human. He has so many secrets he wishes to share with Hanta. If only they had more time.

He steps into the water, careful not to get his clothes wet but it backfires when Sero drags him in, laughing and snorting when he falls headfirst. “About time you said it! I was waiting for like forever!” Shouto rises from the water, tails, and ears flatten down as he looks up at Sero. Under the bags of his eyes, he could see them crinkle with blissful happiness and content. How melancholic was this moment indeed? Just like those few months back when they first met. Only this time it was Hanta pushing Shouto’s hair out of his face to leave a very long and loving kiss on hips pretty lips. It was sweeter than any cinnamon bun, lovelier than the times they spent in bed, and painful too.

It was breathtaking. Shouto’s tails were sagging in the water and his knees were going numb from the cold but he minds it not. When they pull away for air Hanta is rubbing his fingers across the ugly scar on his face.

“Yeah, I love you too.”

So what was Sero to Todoroki?

His first love.

Instead of regretting what we cannot do, it is better to do what one can.

Author Note: A few things I’d like to mention. I had to rewrite this so many times because it just wasn’t clicking. The first idea was for Todoroki to eat Sero’s heart and fall in love with him but I didn’t like it. The balloons and the ability to meet someone in a dream is a reference to xxxHolic. By bringing or taking stuff in the dream world it’ll appear or disappear in the real world and vice versa. In the series, it was said that the balloon held dreams so I went okay this time the balloons symbolize how long you can stay in the dreamland. When the person awakens the balloon pops. Lastly, the shore was a reference to Toilet Bound Hanako Kun.

Finally, that last quote was by Yuuko Ichihara, a character from xxxHolic. I’m really glad that this commission gave me free will and I hope y’all enjoyed the somber ending as I did.

[atinytokki]

Across the Night

iii. The Truth

“It all began when I was hired on as Prince Junhee’s nurse years ago,” Mother began. Seonghwa tucked up his legs and tried to get comfortable in the chair. This would likely be a long storytime.

“As you can imagine, the process was grueling and intense and I was trained even from adolescence as a courtier to care for small children in the hopes that I could land the job,” she went on with a sigh. “I was, of course, ecstatic when I did, and even more so when I met the handsome, noble, powerful man that was— is— the King.”

Here she glanced down at her lap and shook her head before finding her voice again. “It was just one of those things, a moment you wish later that you could change, but at the time it occurred I had no control. My heart drowned out my head and behind the Queen’s back, the King and I grew close. Too close. Two children were born to him the same year, one was the Queen’s and one was mine. But instead of making me a concubine, the King decided instead that to keep me quiet he would send me and my child— his child— here to live in the city, strangers to him even as I raised the princes and maintained a professional relationship with the royals. To this day, the Queen knows nothing.”

Seonghwa caught his breath at the implication of all this. Some of the details were beyond his understanding but it sounded like what Mother was saying was that the King was his father.

“I know what you’re thinking,” she snorted, cracking a small smile. “That this explains why I never speak of your father, and that all this means you’re part royalty.”

Again she could only shake her head and avoid his gaze, tears welling in her eyes and scaring Seonghwa. 

“But it gets worse,” she confessed. “While I nursed both infant sons through five years, I began to notice a difference. My boy was deformed, misshapen, poor and neglected while we starved on the King’s meagre pay. The Queen’s second son was lovely, sweet, and perfect in every way. I tried so hard to move on and to just love my son but every day I saw that little prince and his beautiful face and jealousy stirred within me.” She gave him a fragile smile but her voice cracked as she went on. “So I stole him, and I raised him as my own, and now here he sits at my kitchen table when he should be sitting on a throne.”

Somewhere along the way, Seonghwa’s eyes filled with tears as well and a strange sort of calm settled on him. 

This woman was not his mother.

“Yes, Seonghwa,” came the tortured whisper. “The boy they call the second prince is my child, and you, sweet boy... are hers.”

He opened his mouth as if to say something, but not a word would leave his lips. Memories swirled around in his head.

The beautiful room where he grew up, Mother feeding and teaching him, the older boy that came and played sometimes, the smell of perfume and the taste of delicacies...

He had grown up in the palace, not just a fancier house that he had later left. That boy had been his brother and moving to another house hadn’t been a move at all... it had been a kidnapping.

Seonghwa tried to breathe through the shock, getting to his feet and going to the window, leaning on the frame for support. The distant silhouette of the palace was bold against the stars and his head began to pound from the ferocity of flowing memories.

“You know this already, don’t you?” Mother’s voice floated after him.  

But she wasn’t his mother, and everything was all wrong.

The feel of satin and the twinkle of crystals in his deepest most turbulent dreams was real. 

“Why?” He finally uttered, pure raw emotion coursing through him. “And why tell me now?”

Mother scoffed and came to stand beside him, reaching out to touch his face but thinking better of it when he flinched away.

“I was there for your first steps and your first words. I was the one who fed you, changed you, put you to sleep, taught you everything you know. Why shouldn’t I be your mother?”

“It was wrong!” Seonghwa yelled through tears, moving even farther away from her as everything unravelled— past, present, and future dashed to smithereens all around him. 

“I know!” She shot back before closing her eyes and dropping her head into her hands. “I knew even as I switched you, while I lured you away to my house and every day since when the royal family went on with their lives unknowing and I realised the consequences of what I’d done.”

Her voice was softer now, and Seonghwa clung to the hope that she was repentant, that she could set things right somehow, but she continued to speak and dash his hopes with every word.

“I’ve made a grave mistake. There I was, idolising you and wishing you were mine instead, but despite all I had already done for you, there was something I could never teach you. I had no idea how to train a prince. What I failed to realise was that even with you as my son, I could never be uplifted to a higher status or lifestyle. Swapping the two of you did nothing at all but make your life worse. My poor, sweet Seonghwa... you don’t know how to do anything.”

Seonghwa raked his hands through his hair and fought back tears even harder. He could be preparing to help lead a kingdom right now, and instead he had run wild through the city for five years behind his Mother’s back. She hardly knew him, no matter how much she had done to make him hers.

“I-I’ve failed you as a mother, thinking your perfect looks and sweet voice could survive in this harsh world of work and more work and death. You’re completely unprepared and it’s no one’s fault but my own. To be disciplined in the palace and then expected to live as a peasant... it’s wrong and I don’t know why it took me so long to confess it to you but now that I’ve told you the truth, I see only one way forward.”

Seonghwa held his breath and finally turned his head to look at her. Her face was stone cold.

“You can never be a prince again. You must learn a trade and forget where you came from.”

“What?” He cried. “And refuse everything that is rightfully mine?”

She had washed away his early years with constant lies and constant manipulation, and now she expected him to continue on as if nothing was wrong between them?

“No!” He refused. “No, I have to go to the palace, I have to see the King. Maybe my true family will recognise me, five years isn’t that long—”

“They will not,” Mother insisted without so much as an eyelash out of place. She was completely certain. “In all this time, they have never once realised that their second son is the wrong child. No matter how deformed he is, no matter how ill suited for princehood, your real parents have never so much as suspected that he was switched. Royalty spending time raising their children is simply not the custom. You have no claim to the throne, going there would be a waste of time. No, you must never visit the palace again.”

Seonghwa couldn’t believe it. With all the lies she had told him, surely this was just another, some desperate ploy to keep him from running and leaving her.

“I’m to go on living a lie then?” He asked hoarsely, feeling so very beyond his years.

“Seonghwa,” Mother sniffled and finally drew him in close. “This is your life. I love you, don’t you know?”

Out of force of habit, he let her embrace him. When the alien feeling inside grew too strong, he pulled away and walked outside, sinking onto the garden bench and trying to regain control of himself.

Mother followed him out at a distance, probably to make sure he hadn’t fled, before handing him a slice of bread left over from dinner and retreating to the house.

Seonghwa needed space to work through everything he’d just been told.

As much as he tried to hold it back, the floodgates overruled him and he ended up trying and failing to rub the wetness off his face. 

He couldn’t help but feel like his life was poisoned now.

Every feathery light kiss to heal a bloody scrape, every tune he learned to sing himself to sleep, even the knowledge that baked the bread in his hands— it all came from her.

And it seemed there was no escape.

He clutched the bread so tight it left a hand print and finally let the tears roll down his cheeks.

There was one more thing his mother could teach him.

When the candlelight in the window was snuffed out, Seonghwa peeked in to check that his mother had gone to bed and then made his way into the kitchen.

He could dig up the past or make his own way in the world. And deciding to make his own way, he began with making his own bread. He followed the recipe he’d learned the week after his birthday and kneaded all his frustrations into that dough.

The moon was obscured by the time he was done, but still feeling awake, he snuck out to Chaeyoung’s house and rapped on her window until she came out to meet him.

“What’s this?” She yawned, accepting the bread as they walked down to the fountain together.

“I just felt lonely,” Seonghwa shrugged, trying to disguise his shaking voice. He needed someone who wasn’t his mother to talk to, even if it had nothing to do with his recent discovery.

“In the middle of the night?” She laughed, taking a bite and making a sound of satisfaction. “This is still warm, did you just bake it?”

Seonghwa nodded and sat on the lip of the fountain, pulling off his shoes and dangling his feet in the water. “I couldn’t sleep,” he told her, and it was more or less true. “But I suppose Chan and Donghyun will be jealous we came here without them, won’t they?”

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell Chan anything,” Chaeyoung snorted, brushing off the crumbs into the water and joining him. “And Donghyun is busy, remember?”

Seonghwa sighed wistfully. If only there was some master that he could impress that would sweep him away from all this confusion with Mother. “I don’t blame him,” he said quietly, sitting back to look at the stars that came in and out of focus between wisps of cloud. “We both have to grow up soon, too.”

“And will you be a baker?” Chaeyoung inquired, looking as if she wanted more bread.

“Maybe,” Seonghwa couldn’t help but smile at the way she was looking at him. “Apparently it’s one thing I can do.”

“You’re great at it,” Chaeyoung insisted and nudged him playfully. “You could probably expand your repertoire to cook as well.”

Seonghwa wanted to roll his eyes at the big word but decided to take the focus off of himself for awhile. “What will you do when you grow up?”

She was silent for awhile, looking at the faint glow that came from the palace lights.

“You know, I think it would be wonderful to be the Queen,” she decided. “Living in the lap of luxury seems much more appealing than it did last week, now that I’ve been on the palace grounds.”

Seonghwa furrowed his brow. “But I thought you wanted to be a soldier?”

“Maybe I’ll just do both,” Chaeyoung shot back, sticking her nose in the air. “Riding into battle with a crown on your head is a very glorious profession.”

Even while he laughed along, Seonghwa began to wonder if Mother had fancied herself a Queen too and the creeping thoughts brought his mood down again.

“So what is your tutor teaching you these days?” He asked as he pushed his legs back and forth through the water, making ripples that drifted lazily to the other end of the grand fountain.

In typical Chaeyoung fashion, she rambled on and on about school and her various interests and soon Seonghwa was feeling better, content to chat candidly until the pair of them became sleepy.

Eternally grateful for her unwitting encouragement, Seonghwa walked his friend home and bid her goodnight before climbing into bed himself and forgetting everything for a few hours.

The next day brought an uncomfortable atmosphere but Mother agreed to teach him to make dumplings. The next week it was streusel bread.

By age twelve he had mastered baking. Donghyun had moved away to Namhae to live and work as an artist with master Kwangsuk. Young Chan was enrolled in boarding school, and his and Chaeyoung’s father was deployed to the colonies, though she stayed behind in Doljeon to train to be a lady in waiting.

Seonghwa didn’t really know what that meant, but it was a job in the palace with the Queen that required combat knowledge for security purposes, so he approved. As much as she wanted to sneak him in to see the palace with her on days when she was working, he always refused. He didn’t need to catch any glimpses of the royal family— his family.

More and more he began to feel lonely, and when Chaeyoung was busy he had no one to talk to other than the bread. 

He decided to move on to cooking.

Mother was tired and worn down most days and by the time Seonghwa was fourteen, he had learned all of her favourite dishes and perfected them.

Days blurred together. From the moment the morning tutor left to the moment Mother returned from work, Seonghwa dropped his perfect façade and tried to be himself. He wasn’t really sure who he was now, with his honest work on one side and his shrouded lineage on the other.

Wandering the streets gave him no answers, although a cute little stray cat followed him around from time to time, and cleaning the house until it was spotless didn’t help either.

“Do you want to belong somewhere, son?” 

Seonghwa looked up from his bowl of stew at the guest sitting at their table. 

His name was Mr. Hwang and he was an acquaintance of Mother’s.

“Yes,” he admitted, gauging Mother’s reaction. “It would be nice to get out of the city.”

Mr. Hwang was apparently a cooper who worked on a merchant ship, making the barrels they transported goods in. “My wife is terrified of water so she won’t join me, and I don’t know the first thing about food,” he proposed, sitting back and motioning to his empty plate in approval.

Seonghwa had cooked the lettuce wrapped fish with expensive ingredients from Kon. Only the best for Mother’s guests, because by sixteen he knew they were all apprenticeship candidates. 

Even better, he was resourceful enough to save the bones and make broth out of them, lopping any other fish remains into a spicy soup. He was the perfect candidate for a seafaring culinary position. And even better it was away from the palace, away from Doljeon, away from Mother.

“How would you like to cook for me, and learn to be a cooper as well? You’ll be able to see the world.”

That last line was dangled tantalisingly in front of him, and without a second thought, Seonghwa agreed.

When he looked out his window at the palace that night, shutting out Mother and her anxious prattling, he didn’t feel crushing doubt for once. He felt hope.

And if he had his wish, he would never see that palace again.

...

A/N: Surprise! A big timeskip happened and you might be wondering why, but stay tuned and you'll see ;) Thanks for reading and as always don't forget to kudos and comment!

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[jjba-arni-reblog]

If requests are open; the Jojos and or jobros with an s/o that brings them handmade gifts? (Scenarios possibly, I was inspired by the Rohan one.)

[We decided to settle on 3 people with the requester instead. This was honestly both exhausting and emotional to write a bit haha. I hope you’ll like it!~~~]

Jonathan, Dio and Speedwagon with an s/o that brings them handmade gifts

Jonathan

You wanted to surprise Jonathan with something cute and handmade. Knowing his love for sweets, you decided to bake him chocolate cupcakes. Jojo was embarrassed to admit his love for sweets, especially chocolate, but you quickly reassured him, saying it is cute and there is nothing to be ashamed of.

So, you spend half a day baking, being careful with measurements, as you didn’t want to mess up, even with Jonathan being supportive and happy pretty much over any gesture. Still, you want only the best for your beloved. You asked to meet Jonathan in the evening, meaning that you’ll have the whole day to try and make and best cupcakes for him. After couple of attempts with some changes in the recipe, you were satisfied with them. You carefully put them into a dark blue box decorated with cold ornaments, then wrapping the box with a gold ribbon. You were right on time, as the evening approached. Getting dressed, you gently took the box, trying not to stir it too much.

As you saw Jonathan from the distance, you hid the box behind your back, to surprise him.

“Hey, Jojo” you greeted

“Hello, darling” Jonathan said with a smile, quickly kissing your cheek “So, why did you want to meet?”

“Can I not meet my handsome and strong boyfriend without a reason?~ ” you teased the man, seeing his cheeks redden after your remark.

“Why, of course not” Jonathan answered, trying to keep his cool.

“I have something for you” you said shyly, hoping he would like your present.

“Oh, what is it?” he eyed you curiously.

“Here. I made these for you” you handed him the box.

“You didn’t have to, really” Jojo blushed, not used to such nice gestures “Can I open it now? If you don’t mind”

“Of course.”

Carefully opening the box, Jonathan’s face lit up. Looking back at you he enthusiastically asked “You made them for me? Really?” You nodded. He couldn’t believe it, such effort and work put into baking… and just for him? His face was shining with adoration and gratitude.

“Can I try one right now?” he eagerly asked.

“Yes, Jojo” you answered, chuckling at his excitement.

Biting off a small piece, Jonathan let a happy sigh, savouring the sweet chocolate taste. After finishing the whole cupcake, he quickly hugged you, wrapping an arm around your waste, while the other one was still holding the box

“Thank you so much, the taste is amazing! I love your present so much, you truly didn’t have to. You are too good for me, dear” he said sweetly, looking down at you. You smiled

“I am glad you liked them. And Jojo, you deserve everything in life, don’t doubt yourself. I treasure and love you greatly” you replied, putting a hand on his cheek.

Unable to hold his feelings and happiness any longer, Jonathan swiftly kissed you, putting all his love into the kiss and tightening his hold around you. As you two separated, he continued to look at you with dreamy eyes

“The cupcakes might be sweet, but you are truly the sweetest thing, my darling” Jonathan kissed your cheek.

Dio

Dio is a complicated man, he isn’t the most affectionate and open person, so you didn’t expect him to even appreciate any gift that wasn’t high class or elegant enough for his standards. But still, you decided to make something for him, regardless if he would take it or not. At least he would see the sign of your affection towards him. With that you settled on knitting him a scarf. A red one to be exact, since you thought it kind of reflected his personality: fierce, ambitious, strong, dominant. The man of power and success.

Knitting the scarf and hiding such fact from Dio was difficult. He noticed that your study sessions with him became shorter, as you excused yourself explaining that you had plans and chores to attend to. This resulted in Dio speculating about your whereabouts and true reasons for disappearing. However, soon he would be reassured.

You had asked to meet him near the lake, not providing the reasoning behind it. This only confused the man further. Arriving to the lake, he was met by your standing form with your arms behind your back.

“So what’s the issue?” he asked straight without greeting you. Typical Brando.

“I have something for you” you decided to play it straight too, without worrying to much about being shy.

“Ho?~ Let us see~” Dio said, acting all cocky and flattered.

You brought your hands from behind your back, showing your present (now tied with a yellow ribbon) to Dio, extending your arms for him to take it…or refuse.

“I made it myself since it’ll soon be colder, and I don’t want you to get sick” you explained.

“Hm, as if I, Dio, will be afraid of a temperature change. You made it yourself, you say? What a generous act, I am quite honored” he said somewhat cockily. The gesture clearly has boosted his ego.

“Well, you don’t have to wear it if you don’t want to. I just want you to have this small gift as a sign of my appreciation. I hope you’ll like it… or rather find it acceptable” you answered, carefully choosing your words.

“Well, I’ll accept it” he simply said, taking the scarf from your hands, but not putting it on.

‘Oh well, at least he took it. It is something already’ you thought. You didn’t expect him to wear it or tell anyone about your gift really, so knowing he at least deemed it acceptable made you happy.

~ ~ ~

“Ah, Dio, can I borrow your scarf? I can’t find mine” Jonathan asked, holding a red scarf in his hands.

Looking up and seeing the scarf Jojo took, Dio quickly answered, harsh as usual

“Absolutely not. Don’t put your filthy hands on it” he quickly came up to Jonathan and snatched the scarf from him

“God, you don’t have to get so worked up, Dio, it’s only a scarf” Jojo said, backing away confused.

“Perhaps” Dio answered, but he still didn’t let Jojo or anyone else take it.

Perhaps it was a simple scarf, who knows? But the red cloth was only worthy to warm and wrap around Dio Brando’s neck. His favorite one, even if he doesn’t want to admit it.

Speedwagon

Robert wasn’t the most confident person, usually trying to refuse any gifts, whether expensive or not, with the reason of him being not worthy of such generous things. However, you thought differently. Whenever he saw ugliness, you saw beauty. He saw a disgrace to the humankind, you saw a noble gentleman. Such contrast played on the feelings of Speedwagon, making him question his worth and your presence in his life. So, with that in mind you decided to show him that he is worthy of affection and companionship.

You were painting a portray of him, capturing his strong features. His blonde hair that you loved to run your hands through and that swirled beautifully in the air. He would always try to hide it away with his hat, but you didn’t mind, he was charming either way. His deep brown eyes that make you melt under their gaze. Robert keeps on saying that they are boring and plain, but to you they look warm and welcoming, especially when they gaze at you with such love and adoration. His scar, the symbol of courage and struggles he overcame. He worries about you thinking less of him because of the scar, but you don’t. It’s a sign of a strong soul and bright future. That is what you saw in him. And you tried your best to portray that on your canvas.

After finishing your work, you carefully wrapped it in a black cloth decorated with a gold pattern. With that, you asked Robert to come to your place. After greeting you with a kiss, he took off his coat, hanging it in the drawer, then reluctantly taking off his precious hat. Coming to the living room, he noticed your shy look as you sat on the couch. Raising an eyebrow in question, he sat next to you, taking your hand in his.

“Darling, is something the matter? You seem a bit..stiff” he was unsure what to say.

“Ah, well… I kinda… made you something” you confessed, looking away.

“Made me something? You didn’t ha-” he said confused a bit but trying to refuse it already.

“No! Listen, I won’t take no for an answer, Robert, I wanted to make something for you for a long time. And I tried my best, so please…at least look at it” came an answer back, somewhat saddened by his attempt to decline.

“Alright, dear” he finally agreed.

You stood up, going to another room to retrieve your present. As you sat back down, you gave him the wrapped gift.

“Hmm, you got me intrigued now, darling” Robert said now interested in your present.

Taking off the cloth, his eyes widened, looking at the piece of art before him. As if he was looking in the mirror, he took in his own features, noticing all the details and colours in the work. He was astonished by our talent and especially your portrayal of him. Is this how you see him? Is this how your eyes view him as you stare at him with a loving gaze? He didn’t know what to say, the realization struck him at once. That’s what you meant by all these nice comments about him, how you saw him differently, not as a dangerous criminal or a filthy rat not worthy of anyone’s attention, No, THIS is how you saw him, a noble man, a healed individual, a strong-willed person.

He didn’t say anything, silently putting the work away. He could see your worried look as you saw him turn to meet your eyes with his watery ones. Without a word, he pulled you in a tight hug burying his head into your neck. Multiple ‘thank you’s were exchanged that day and so did ‘I love you’s. Any other words weren’t a necessity that evening, just the warmth of bodies was enough to show one another the deepest feelings. That day, something changed, for that day Robert is thankful.

[rumbelleshowdown]

Author: Moose

Prompt:  Can’t make tea; otherworldly delights; comfort

Group: A

-

Impish

It started with the tea. The water boiled, the bag sat oh so lovingly in the mug, and when it was left to brew it looked a proper tea-like color. Perfectly normal.

Belle liked her tea with milk. Just a splash. Just enough to make the dark brown liquid, well, milky. No lemon. Obviously. That was the first thing everyone learned, wasn’t it? Add a lemon to milky tea and you’ll have a curdled mess. She didn’t particularly like lemons anyway, didn’t even use them for the handful of recipes she knew how to cook.

And yet every time Belle added milk, her tea would curdle. Not right away. Belle could stir in her splash, watch it swirl and become deliciously milky. But on her first sip; disaster. Globs of milk like peeling paint, floating in her mug.

Her solution had been to stop adding milk. She was adaptable.

The timer was set. The tea brewed.

It was bitter; almost rancid on her tongue. There wasn’t enough sugar in her cupboards to cover a taste like that. Defeated, Belle poured the ruined tea down the sink, where every other cupful had gone since moving into the old victorian two weeks ago.

Maybe there was something in the water. Belle’s new pink house was quite old; perhaps the pipes needed updating. As much as she didn’t like the idea of another expense, she wanted safe drinking water more. She’d call about a plummer on Monday.

Belle slid an empty box out of her way with her foot. A cup of tea after finally unpacking all of her things would have been exactly what her day needed, but it was not to be. She’d settle for her books instead.

The library had been the first room she set up. It was thrilling, finally having her own library. The shelves were tall and made of dark wood that blended well with the antique furniture that had come with the house, perfect for the odd houseplant or two. Her pride and joy was her reading nook. It was straight out of her childhood fantasies: plush cushions on a window seat that overlooked a garden, complete with attached side table and blankets.

Would she read that book about penguins Arial had recommended, or would she reach for the new Mal Burns novel that she bought before the move? Pushing open the door, she took in the sight of her library, unable to keep the smile from blooming across her face. Slowly, she walked by the shelves. She wanted something familiar tonight, something comfortable. Her Handsome Hero would do nicely.

When Belle reached the right shelf, she paused. Looked again. The worn blue cover wasn’t there. She looked at the shelf next to it. The one above, below. Nowhere to be seen.

She let out a beleaguered sigh. First no tea, and now no Her Handsome Hero. Belle grabbed a book at random and curled up on the window seat anyway. She was adaptable, after all.

xxx

Belle awoke with her face pressed into the woven fabric of a throw pillow, the linen hot against her cheek. It was dark, and it took her a long moment to remember she was in her library. She moved her arm, hanging off the side of the bench, cold. On close inspection, her feet were cold too. She sighed, trying to unbunch the blanket that she’d pulled up to her shoulders with her knees. It was a small thing, meant for her lap, so just as well she was a small person.

Something heavy fell off the table across the room, the loud thud hardly muffled by the rug. The rug did nothing to muffle the swear.

Belle’s eyes shot open. That voice was not hers.

She had left a light on, she remembered. She had fallen asleep with a lamp shining over her shoulder. The light was out now.

Belle swallowed, straining her ears for any other noise, any clue, as to who was there or what they wanted.

Time stretched. She sat up, the blanket pooling in her lap. Soundlessly she felt around for anything close to her. Her hand landed on the book she had fallen asleep with. Her fingers curled around the edges, gripping tightly.

A creak in the floorboard broke the silence and without pausing to think, Belle threw the book in the direction of the sound. Books were friends, not projectiles, but she was desperate and desperate people made do.

She hit her target - something yelped in surprise.

Belle dove for the lamp, turning it on with a click. The light filled the room, illuminating her intruder. It was not a man.

He was man-shaped, at least, and had the expected number of arms and legs. His hair was a wild mane, his skin like a toad’s, a dull grey-green that shimmered in the lamplight. He bared his teeth at her, and she wasn’t sure if they were sharp, or if the stains and rot made them look like it.

Unconsciously, Belle took a step closer. His eyes looked as if they had a sun-shaped iris, the pupil wide and dark. It was striking.

“What are you?” she breathed.

He took a step back

“What are you, other than rude?” His voice was high and throaty. “Throwing things at people is no way to act, dearie.”

“I wasn’t the one skulking around while I was sleeping.”

“No, you don’t skulk,” he agreed, his smile a sharp, humorless thing. “You stomp around in the daytime like some elephant.”

“I do not stomp!”

“You’re thunderous. Keeps me awake.”

Belle gaped at him, mouth open and speechless. This was a dream, had to be a dream. She’d wake up for real, any minute now, and chalk it all up to an overactive imagination. There was no way this thing was actually there.

Calling him a thing seemed rude. What exactly was he anyway?

“Are you a vampire?” she asked suddenly. She hadn’t noticed any bruising around her pulse points lately but the point of vampirism wasn’t to be noticable.

His lip curled in disgust. “Never had a taste for blood.”

“A demon?” she asked. “Vengeful spirit?” Was her house haunted? That was an exciting possibility. An actual haunted house!

He twittered, shaking his head back and forth. Belle studied him closer in the lamp light. His pants looked leather, his shirt smooth like silk, the collar frilly. He already said he wasn’t a vampire, though.

“What, then, some sort of bogart? An imp?” She waved her hand at the lamps. “Waiting for me to stub my toe in the dark?”

“I thought you humans preferred to sleep in the dark. I’ll turn all the lights on, next time.”

Belle bit her lip to hide the smile. He’d probably think she was laughing at him. Which, okay, maybe she was. But he sounded so petulant, like a little kid who wasn’t congratulated for cleaning up all his toys.

“Fine, don’t tell me what you are. At least tell me what you’re doing in my house.”

His nose was pointy, like a beak, only becoming more prominent as he frowned at her. “It’s my house, dearie. You’re the one invading.”

“Oh.”

The old victorian had been cheap; cheap enough that Belle didn’t have to think twice about leaving her shitty studio apartment in the city to move to a small town. Cheap enough that she hadn’t asked why. An oversight, clearly.

Looking at the strange man with the leather trousers and wild hair, she couldn’t quite bring herself to regret it.

“I’m not in a position to leave,” Belle said slowly. “I’m actually really quiet, I promise. Or I will be now, since all the boxes are finally unpacked.”

The creature rolled his eyes, bending down to pick up the book she had thrown at him. “Escape in the Moonlight,” he read. “‘The tale of Aumbry and her secret love affair with the village shepherd. Will love win out, or will she be forced into a loveless marriage?’” He waggled his eyebrows at her. “Your taste in books is lacking.”

“My taste is impeccable.”

She expected him to perhaps hand the book back to her. She reached out to accept it, but instead, he waved his hand and the book vanished in a puff of smoke.

Belle gaped at him. “You! You’ve been stealing my books!”

He sniffed, completely unrepentant. “Call it rent.”

“I’m not paying rent on a house I own!”

“I told you, it’s my house!”

Belle narrowed her eyes. “Do you even read them?”

He shrugged. He stepped toward her, one finger running over the spines on the shelves as he did. “You have so many, and I’m so bored. There’s little harm in borrowing a few, is there?”

She frowned at him, annoyance clear on her face. He stalked closer, trying to intimidate her. Well, that wasn’t going to work, not when it was her prized possessions on the line. Belle didn’t react except to put a hand on her hip, and standing as tall as her diminutive height allowed, never breaking eye contact.

“Yes, alright, I’ll give them back when I’m done with them,” he grumbled, pulling his hand back from her books.

“Well. Good. You’ll have to tell me what you think of Gidion’s story.” Belle felt awkward standing there, still in the clothes she was wearing the day before. What time was it, anyway? She bent to pick up the blanket from where it lay in a heap. “And whether that sword fight was justified or not.”

The creature gasped, putting a hand on his chest as if affronted. “Spoilers, dearie!”

Belle laughed.

The thing tilted his head, his large eyes watching her with an unreadable expression. “You’re an odd girl,” he murmured.

“So I’ve been told.” Still smiling, she folded the blanket before dropping it on the cushions. “Now then, would you like some - well, not tea. I still have some biscuits, I think. But I’ve been having trouble with the tea.”

“That so,” he giggled, feigning interest in the shelf again. “How odd.”

Her eyebrows drew together in confusion. Something clicked.

“My books weren’t enough, you had to go after my tea too?” She felt like throwing something else. Perhaps him. Out the window.

“You never made a cup for me. That’s not very neighborly.” He looked at her sideways, those strange eyes dancing.

She wasn’t dealing with some trickster imp. He was clearly just a dick.

Mourning for all her lost tea, she asked, “If I make you some, will you stop ruining it?”

He sent her a pout. “I ruin everything, dear.” And then with a snap, he was gone. He left behind him only a small puff of smoke that smelled like the forest after a rainfall.

Belle rubbed her eyes, exhausted all at once. This either meant she had a roommate or a landlord, depending on if the thing about rent was a quip or not. At least he didn’t seem intent on driving her out, for now. Maybe they could learn to coexist.

Coexist. With a goddamn imp.

Belle shook her head at herself. What she needed was a cup of tea, and maybe she’d be successful now she knew what was sabotaging her. Perhaps he was bored of that particular game. She made her way down the stairs to the kitchen. Everything was how she had left it. Filling the kettle, she set it on to boil.

The teacup she had used earlier was still on the counter, and after a quick rinse was ready for round two. Remembering her offer, Belle pulled another one from the cupboard.

“One more thing, dearie,” said a voice in her ear.

With a yelp, Belle startled and dropped the teacup. It fell to the kitchen floor, hitting the tile. She spun around, now face to face with the imp.

“Tea again? My, you are persistent.”

“I’m an optimist,” Belle snapped, trying to calm her racing heart through sheer force of will.

He was very close. Close enough that she could feel his breath on the side of her face, could make out the embroidered detail of his waistcoat - gold thread in the form of thistles and dandelions.

“What do you want?” she asked, when he continued to stare at her.

“You intend to stay here, in this place.”

Belle couldn’t tell if it was a question. She nodded.

He hummed, the sound vibrating around Belle’s ears. “The thing is, dearie, this here is prime real estate, and you’re here unlawfully.”

“I signed the housing contract -“

“Ah, but you didn’t sign one with me.”

Belle licked her lips. She watched his eyes follow the movement. “Are my books not enough after all?”

“Perhaps they would be, if I were allowed to keep them.” The imp swept his arms out, as if he were making her a grand offer.

“No,” she said, firm.

“Then I’m afraid you’ll have to offer me some other worldly delights,” he said, leaning closer, his eyes wide and cavernous.

Belle tried to step back, away from his searching eyes, but the counter was behind her, boxing her in. She took a deep breath, summoning all her bravery.

“What’s your price?”

He leaned back, slightly. “Your name.”

Belle’s mouth opened in surprise. This wasn’t an imp, nor vampire. “You’re a fairy!” she cried.

“What? No!”

“A fairy!” Belle was bursting with questions. Were there other fairies, here or in the town, or was he the only one? He was fixated on the house - was there a fairy ring inside, somehow, that he was protective of? She remembered the garden, upkept even as the house stood empty for so long. Perhaps there was magic there, in the flowers and bushes that lined the property.

“As if those gnats knew the first thing about home ownership,” he said with forced patience. “Your name, dear.”

She paused. In all the stories, it was known that names had power, and that giving it freely gave the fae power over you.

“You can call me Rose.”

His lip twitched, his eyes narrowed. If Belle had to guess, she’d say he was amused but not surprised.

“Funny, you don’t look like a Rose,” he said.

“What should I call you?” she asked quickly when he straightened.

“That wasn’t part of the deal,” he said with a giggle. Before she could press further, he snapped, and in another puff of earthy-smelling smoke, he was gone.

Belle huffed in annoyance at his hasty exit, but she wasn’t too worried. She had a feeling she’d see him again, perhaps when he decided to move all her furniture two inches to the left.

She bent to pick up the cup still lying on the tile. “Oh, shoot,” she muttered. The rim had a chip.

-

[fnaficsfordays]

Long Days Are Better Spent Together

AO3 Link

Word Count: 2074

No warnings!

----------

Michael dropped the duffel bag onto the floor with a resounding thump, the items inside clattering. With a groan, he tossed off his cap, the stiff felt material landing next to a large glass terrarium. Eyes trailing over the creature inside, his irritation drifted away, face perking up into a light smile at the sight of the shell inside.

“Hey, Bonbon.” He muttered with a tired sigh, reaching a hand in and stroking the smooth spiral about the size of his fist. There was no response, but calm slowly began to wash over him as he retracted his fingers. “Not feelin’ active today either, huh?”

A quiet series of crackling clicks further down the hall turned Michael’s attention away, regaining his pace through the rest of the house. As he approached the kitchen, floor hardening into tiles beneath his feet, a light hum began to float through the air, soft and cautious. It was as if they were afraid of extending their vocal chords to anyone beyond themself- but the thought only made a prickle of warmth come to his chest.

He turned the corner, smile widening at the person standing in front of the stove, fiddling with the heat knobs and placing down a large pan. The slight frown of concentration was clear on their face, spikes of blond hair standing upright on their head. Their eyes stayed fixed on the marble countertop even as he neared, steps barely audible over their humming.

At the last possible second, Michael brushed a hand over the tips of their hair, watching them stiffen. Their gaze snapped towards him, panic flaring up for a split second before dissipating with a sharp exhale. A snicker escaped him as they rolled their eyes, stifling a curse.

“Fucking- I tell you not to sneak up on me.” Scott pinched the bridge of his nose, despite his glare falling short. His smirk only grew as he stood next to him, glancing at the ingredients on the table.

“Sure you do. What’s cooking?” Their shoulders brushed, hand drifting back up to his hair. “Or have you not decided yet?”

“...No.”

“Give it time, something’ll show up.” He shrugged. “It’s not like I’m too hungry yet anyways. Less the others are.”

“They’ll be hungry by the time this is done. It’s nearing dusk.” Scott bit his lip, barely seeming to notice his fingers running through the light tufts. “And no, we’re not doing takeout again. Vincent gets sick of chinese way too easily.”

“Wasn’t suggesting it, calm down.” He chuckled. Leaning in closer, Michael pressed his lips against his cheek for a split second, pulling away with a glimmer in his eyes. “Could ask Jeremy if he’s willing to help, he always sees ideas online.”

“And they always need ingredients we don’t have.” He murmured. But he could see the faint dusting of pink across his face, coloring his tan skin.

“I’m sure he’ll have something. Just go on, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind. As long as Vince doesn’t tag along as well, the kitchen’ll stay intact.”

That got a smile at the corner of his mouth. “Believe me, I think we all know that too well.”

“It never happened again!” The sudden call carried through another hallway, indignant yet sparkling with amusement. A different giggle, soft and shy, followed it.

“Doesn’t mean we still don’t have a broken cabinet now!” Scott yelled back, rolling his eyes with a huff. “Christ.”

“I’ll go ask them what they want. Take a second or two.” Michael let his arm fall back down to his side, warmth still prickling inside as he walked towards the rest of the house. He pushed open a door, eyebrows raising as he glanced inside. "And you know that that's not entirely true."

"It was the only time it left lasting damage! Sue me." Vincent threw up his hands from where he lay on the bed, silver eyes gleaming. "It's not like it wasn't a natural course of action, anyways."

"Barely."

"The point still stands."

Another giggle alerted him to the other person in the room, their head nested in the crook of his neck, curly hair flat against the pillow. Their arm was hugging him tightly, smile wide on their cheeks. "It was only a natural course of action because you got startled by the oven timer and dropped the knife."

"Hey! Could've been one of us instead of the countertop. I call it lucky." He threw his signature grin, pulling Jeremy closer. "Tables can't feel pain."

"I'm sure the table's glad to hear how little you appreciate its dutiful existence."

“Hush it.” He tossed a pillow at him, which he caught easily. “How was the shift?”

“Surprisingly menial. They only moved from the stage twice.” Michael sat down next to them on the bed, sinking down into the sheets with a sigh. “Mainly just had to deal with Foxy being twitchy, but not much.”

“How lovely it is to have just a single deranged furry animatronic chasing your boyfriend instead of several.” Vincent snorted.

“‘Chase’ would imply that I moved at all from the office.” He flicked his ear with a smirk. “And Jere, Scott’s starting dinner right now if you feel like giving suggestions.”

“Already?” He perked up from the mattress. “Ooh, did he have anything already planned?”

“If he did then I wouldn’t have told you.”

“Yeah, yeah… Oh! I could go ahead and show him the pasta bake I found!” Jeremy was already standing up, gaze glittering as he walked towards the doorway. “All it needs is some tomatoes, spinach, chicken…”

“Well, hopefully that one works out for once.” Vincent stared fondly after him, grin fading into something more relaxed. “One of these days we’ve gotta surprise him by getting all the ingredients for one of the super complicated ones.”

“Bold of you to assume Scott hasn’t thought of that already.” Michael leaned gladly into his caressing hand. “He definitely feels guilty that he’s only been able to do a few. Just you wait.”

“Jeremy can make anyone feel guilty. Don’t you say that you can resist.”

“Never did.”

-----

“You’re sure that’s all the things we need.”

He crossed his arms up at him, dark brown eyes in a pouting glare. “I just checked the fridge! That’s it, and we have it all right here. Cheese, mayo, chicken, spinach, tomatoes, sauce, and dried pasta. They’re even the same shape!”

Scott hefted a sigh, feeling his face lift into a smile. “I guess for once we can make it.”

“That’s what I’ve been saying this entire time.” He whined, swinging the refrigerator door shut. “Come on. It’s gonna take a little while.”

“Starting by boiling water?”

“You get water. I’m going to start frying the chicken.” Jeremy took out salt and pepper as well, letting the pantry swing shut with a foot. His fingers slid around neatly and nimbly, the seasonings speckling the meat. The fading sunlight fell across the cutting board, rays slicing on and around his arm as he worked, lips parted in a light concentration. “Make sure to add some salt to it too.”

He blinked, realizing the empty pot was still in his hands. Face flushing, Scott moved to fill it up, water pouring from the faucet.

Though he was more often than not in the kitchen for the others, he’d never felt completely comfortable with it. Never made anything completely from scratch, definitely, unless pancakes counted- but there wasn’t anything complex to that. Watching Jeremy’s swift movements in the orange glow from the window always got him too distracted on the rare occasions that they had everything necessary for a recipe- if either of the others were here right now, they’d have called it out without a second chance.

Scott suddenly stiffened as he began to pour in the salt, other hand freezing on the heat knob. Jeremy had leaned his head against his shoulder, still watching the chicken as it began to brown. He swallowed, forcing his hands to pick up the wooden spoon and start stirring. Neither moved at all.

Interesting, he thought that being in so many relationships was supposed to make him better at not getting embarrassed.

“Water’s boiling.” His voice gently interrupted his thoughts.

“Ah.” He reached across the stove, scooping up the box. The pale yellow noodles began to pour into the water, dropping in with the slightest noise. But as he continued to stir, his mind drifted off again.

The feeling of his soft mess of hair leaving Scott’s shoulder brought him back again. Now he was cutting up the chicken and tomatoes, the metal blade flashing silver with each slice. “Pasta should be cooked by now, I think.”

“It looks like it.” He drained away the boiling water, blinking at the steam that rose up in the sink. Before he could do anything, another set of fingers were wounding around the handles for him, prying the curled pasta away and sliding them out into a glass dish.

Scott didn’t fight it, only watching Jeremy mix everything together. He flowed so smoothly on his own, wooden spoon folding around the streaks of white and red. It all swirled into a creamy sauce, coating around the individual pieces. At last, he put it in the oven, pushing the door shut as the timer started to beep quietly.

With a satisfied smile, Jeremy stood back, tasting the leftover sauce still coating the spoon. “Tastes as good as it looks.”

“Well, I don’t doubt it.”

“Wanna try?”

“I… sure-?”

Before Scott could say anything else, he set down the spoon, suddenly facing him fully. His chin tilted up just a tad, eyes closing as he leaned closer-

And his lips pressed against his own.

He pulled away only a moment later, letting out a small giggle at his stunned face. “So, how’s it taste?”

His mouth was dry, swallowing roughly at his glowing expression. “I-I…” A shaky breath. “G-Good. It… It was good.”

His small fingers wrapped around his arm, head nuzzling into his shoulder. “You smell like coconut.”

“T-Tried a different shampoo.” Why did they always make it so hard to stop stuttering? “...You still smell like vanilla.”

“Mhm, I’m glad. Which smells sweeter?”

“Whichever one you’re using.”

“Aw.” He pressed against him more, skin warm. “I would’ve liked to say the other way around, but I guess we’ll never know.”

Before he could respond with another flustered retort, the oven timer suddenly rang out. Jeremy stepped away, opening up the oven and sliding the baking dish out. “Looks delicious. Come on, let’s go get the others.”

“I- Wait, we’re bringing it with us-?”

“‘Course we are. Come on!”

With a resigned sigh, Scott picked up the dish, the warm stream wafting through the air. Jeremy was nearly skipping as walking towards the hallway, smile still wide. Just as they reached the room, it faded into a slight smirk, leaning into the doorway. “Really?”

“I just got home, give me a break.” Michael barely lifted his head up from where he lay on the bed, arms wrapped around Vincent. His eyes were still half shut. “M’ tired.”

“Well, dinner’s ready, so better scoot over.” Jeremy slipped underneath the sheets as well, curling up besides Michael. “You’re warm.”

“So are you.” Vincent ruffled his hair. His gaze flicked up towards where Scott was still standing, eyebrows raising. “Get over here and love us.”

“...I’m carrying a baking dish full of pasta.”

“Your point?”

“It’s unhygienic.”

“Oh, come on, just set it down. We can eat right here.” Michael waved him over, starting to sit up on the mattress. “Not moving from this bed anyways.”

Rolling his eyes, he cleared away a relatively flat area, carefully placing it down. “Happy?”

“Almost.” Before he could move away, Vincent reached out a hand, fingers suddenly grasping around his tie and tugging him down. With an undignified yelp, he crashed onto the bed with them, barely aware of their laughter.

“Well, it’s not the first time we’ve gotten you into bed by the tie-”

“Shut it.” Scott flushed, crossing his arms. “Did we even bring utensils?”

“Right here.” Jeremy held up a couple of forks, grinning as he passed them out. “Come on. You love us.”

“You haven’t moved out yet.” Michael added, with a chuckle.

“Hmph… Maybe just a little.” But as he began to dig in, the warmth spread from his cheeks into his chest. Or maybe a lot.

[cilldaracailin]

A Kind Of Magic

Here is the next part. I think this is one of my favourite parts of this story. :) Thanks again for all the love :)

13

“Sometimes, the best way to help someone is just to be near them.”

It was easy for Taron to slide out of the bed and not disturb Robyn as she slept. He carefully loosened his grip on her hand and slipped out from under the duvet. He woke up and needed to use the bathroom, but seeing Robyn so peaceful as she lay beside him sleeping, he did not want to jostle the bed too much and wake her but as his need to empty his bladder persisted, he had to move. The only thing that connected them was their hands, Robyn’s head now buried into the bottom of one of the two pillows he had been using. She had moved so she wasn’t resting her head on his shoulder but her hand remained in his as she slept.

Another reason why he needed to move from under the duvet was that he was absolutely sweltering. As he stood in the heat of the bedroom, he realised that it was a combination of factors as to why he was roasting. They had forgotten to turn the air conditioning on in the bedroom and with day time temperatures hitting the high twenties, the night time temperature must have been at least been in the low twenties and he could definitely notice the difference in the bedroom when there was no fresh air circulating. Although the doors to the bedroom had been open all day and the blackout curtains kept the room dark, it was still boiling in Robyn’s room. He also remembered that Robyn said he was slightly sunburnt which would also explain why his body felt like it was burning. He pulled his shirt away from his damp skin and looked to Robyn who was snuggled deeply into the covers, wondering how on earth she slept in the heat of the room.

He quietly made his way into the bathroom and after using the toilet, he splashed some cold water onto his face. He went back into the bedroom and around to the locker nearest the windows and picked up the white controller to the air conditioning and turned it on full blast, sighing as wonderful cool air started to blow into the hot room, ever so thankful for Robyn and her luxury items. However, he was still uncomfortably and almost painfully hot and opening the buttons of his shirt, pulled it off throwing it in the direction of his duffle on the floor near the closet door.

He froze as Robyn started to moan in her sleep, her whole body turning so she now lay on her back instead of her right side, the duvet moving with her, her right arm thrown above her head. Taron could see that some of her hair was slightly sticking her forehead so knew even though she was asleep, the heat in the room was unpleasant for her too, the same sheen on her skin as he had on his, although he actually felt like he was sweating buckets, rather than the glow that Robyn had from being wrapped up in the bed clothes. She moved again in her sleep, mumbling and Taron took a glance to the alarm clock that was on her locker. It read two forty-seven in muted green numbers. It was the longest Robyn had peacefully slept since he had arrived.

“Hmm Taron no.”

Taron’s heart fell to the floor as he heard those all too familiar upsetting words coming from her as she started to toss in the bed, the arm above her head going to her rest on her stomach now. He climbed up onto the bed and carefully crawled towards her, stopping as she stirred again. He then lay on his left side beside her, his head in his left hand as his elbow balanced on the pillow she was laying on. Using his right hand, her brushed her hair from her face, feeling that her skin was warm, just not as warm as his. Robyn moved again and he softly cupped her left cheek with her hand.

“Shh Robyn.” He did not want her to wake in distress from another nightmare, so he rubbed her cheek, hoping his slight movement soothed her. “Shh, just sleep.” He felt her turn her face into his touch and continued to tentatively stoke her cheek, running a gentle finger down her temple. “Just sleep.” He heard her sigh in her sleep and she nestled down into the bed, her whole-body relaxing, making Taron smile. He caressed her face again, taking the chance to place a light feathered movement down her nose and back up before moving down the side of her face, feeling extremely relieved that she had fallen back into a contented sleep.

Taron let go of the breath he had been holding and was so pleased that he had been able to appease Robyn in her sleep but he wasn’t entirely happy that she was cocooned so tightly in the duvet. Although the air conditioning was doing its job, Robyn’s duvet was heavy and warm and probably perfect for cold winter nights for snuggling under but right now it looked like it was weighing Robyn down. He crept back down the bed and grabbing a hold of the end of the duvet cover, slowly drew it down so Robyn wasn’t fully covered in the blue material but rather just her legs, so they wouldn’t get cold as the room cooled down.

He knew she was sleeping deeply when she didn’t even move as he tugged the duvet down and once he was happy that she wasn’t going to overheat, he walked back to the locker and using the air conditioning controller, turned the breezy air down to the lowest setting. Taron was very pleased to see that Robyn was getting the sleep she desperately needed and as she shifted again, her arm moving to rest lower on her stomach, Taron was certain she was going to finally wake up feeling refreshed and nightmare free.

Feeling tired and a little sore from moving so much around the room, Taron lay back down on the bed, on his back, his own legs on top of the duvet not bothering to put his shirt back on. He was still sweltering even with the fresh cool air and if he was to get some sort of restful sleep, he didn’t want to be smothered with heat. He nestled into the pillows behind his head, enjoying the draft that swirled over his heated body, resting his hands on his stomach. Closing his eyes, he inhaled the crisp air, effortlessly slipping back into a heavenly sleep.

~*~*~*~*~*~

She felt cool yet warm at the same time and it was that perfect combination that made her snuggle further into the soft sheets under her head. She allowed her body to slowly wake up naturally, not bothering to open her eyes but the stretch she was made was inevitable, a long satisfied sigh leaving her lips. After she stretched, the palm of her hands went automatically to rub her eyes, another content sigh quickly following her first.

“Good morning.” Robyn opened her eyes and looked up to see Taron sitting low beside her, braced against two pillows. His head snuggled deep into the last one with his chin close to his chest, wearing his glasses, a book in his hands. “Do you think we could bake some apple muffins?” He asked. “Though this millionaires shortbread sounds delicious too.”

“Taron?” Asked Robyn confused. “What… I… What?”

“You slept.” He said simply, looking down to her. “A full nights sleep. A whole ten hours. That is thirty minutes more than me.”

Robyn rubbed her eyes again. “Wait what?”

“You slept. A proper full night’s sleep without any nightmares.” Explained Taron. “But seriously can we bake this?” Taron turned the book around to show Robyn the picture of a large chocolate cake. “This looks amazing. We could bake it and bring it with us when we go and have dinner with your parents.”

“I slept?”

“Uh-huh.” Answered Taron as he flicked over to the next page in the baking book he was reading. He had woken up half an hour ago, and seeing that Robyn was still fast asleep, he instantly felt relieved for her. She finally had the sleep she deserved, free of nightmares and horrendous dreams. She had moved back to her side and was curled up in a cute little ball, her head now laying on the bed itself rather than the pillow. He didn’t want to wake her, but he also didn’t want her to wake alone and get worried when he wasn’t there beside her, knowing she was becoming very protective of him so he took a little roam through her apartment and to her bookshelf under the fish tank and pulled out a baking cookbook that looked very much used and weathered, bringing it back to the bedroom to read. He opened the curtains a little to let some natural light in so he wouldn’t have to turn on the main light in the room and it took him a good three minutes to find his glasses in his bag but once discovered, he found a comfortable resting position beside her and had studied cookies, tray bakes and bread before Robyn started to stir and wake. “The whole night through.” He added.

“I slept?” She questioned again.

“Yep.” Taron flipped the next page in the book. “Oh no, this one. Let make this!” He went to turn the book towards Robyn again so he could show her the recipe for the red velvet cake but he quickly pulled the book back to him as Robyn stood up and literally started to jump up and down on the bed.

“I slept! The whole night!” She shouted excitedly as she kept jumping up and down, the movement making Taron’s own body bounce a little as he sat watching. “Yes yes yes!”

Taron started to laugh, his giggle coming from deep inside as he watched Robyn celebrate that she had had a nightmare free sleep. It was one of the cutest things he had seen and loved how she childishly hopped up and down, grinning from ear to ear.

“Oh shit.” Robyn stopped suddenly. “Shit Taron sorry. Jumping is not the ideal motion you need to feel right now.”

“It’s ok. In fact, if I knew I could do it, I would jump with you.” He smiled. “Come and sit.” He patted the bed beside him.

She did as he asked, sitting up straight beside him, Taron lower than she was as he half lay half sat cushioned by pillows and the duvet under him.  “I like you in glasses too.”

“Why thank you.” He chuckled. “Even with the sleep, my eyes still feel tired.”

“Ugh.” Robyn let her head fall backward against the soft blue velvet headboard.

“Good ugh or bag ugh?”

“Very good ugh. Jesus Taron, I haven’t slept a full ten hours in a long time.” She looked down to him again, adding the picture of Taron in his glasses to her ever-growing album. “Please tell me you slept.”

“Yes I did. I woke once but went right back to sleep. I don’t know how you sleep so soundly in these temperatures. When I woke last night, I was sweating with the heat.”

“Oh, we forgot to put the air con on.”

“Yes, we did but yet you were still snuggled tight in the duvet.”

“I do like to be cosy.”

Taron took his glasses off and titled his head back so he could look at her above him. “I do too but it was like an oven in here when I woke. I put the air con for us and pulled the duvet a little off you so you wouldn’t over heat. As you can see, I was absolutely sweltering, I slept on top of the duvet. Had to pull my shirt off too.” Robyn had noticed but hadn’t said anything. “We could have been in the Caribbean if I didn’t know any better.”

“I don’t mind the heat even at night and I have to be covered with something, even a sheet.”

Taron shook his head. “Crazy. If I haven’t told you already, your air conditioning is fucking heaven.”

Robyn laughed as she pulled the book from him that rested on his chest. “You raided my book shelf and this is what you took to read?”

“It’s a book about baking yummy things. What’s not to love.”

“True. It’s one of favourites and you are probably feeling warmer because your body is working a little extra hard to heal itself.” She flicked through the book. “My favourite. Chocolate salted caramel tart.”

Taron took the book back. “Yes. This one.” He put his glasses back on so he could read it but stopped when he felt Robyn kiss his head.

“Thanks Taron. I know my sleeping the night through had something to do with you.”

He looked up to her again. “You might have stirred a bit when I was trying to cool myself down last night, mumbled my name.” He watched her close her eyes. “But with a little bit of soothing you went right back to sleep. I was glad to help. You desperately needed a good night’s sleep.” He turned his attention back to the book in his hands. “And too be fair, I think it was my turn to repay the favour. I finally got to watch you sleep.”

Robyn chuckled. She felt rested and awake and her eyes didn’t sting with tiredness as they had done over the past week and best of all, she didn’t dream that the man currently laying lazily in her bed had died and out of pure relief she found herself giving Taron’s hair another kiss, enjoying how his body position oozed bliss and happiness as he read her favourite baking book. They lay in silence for a few minutes, Robyn watching with interest to see what recipes Taron stopped to read, enjoying how his facial expressions changed as he found one he liked. Without realising that she was doing it, Robyn stopped as she caught herself running the fingers of her right hand through Taron’s hair in the same way she had done as he lay in the 7/11 and ambulance.

Taron had very much been enjoying the feel of Robyn’s hand in his hair, the gentle scratching of his scalp what he had been aching for when he lay in the bath the day before. He had yet to take his pain killers so her rhythmic movements was helping to take the edge of his headache; one he woke with every morning. He hoped she hadn’t heard the quiet moan of delight he made as well as the one of disappointment when she suddenly stopped.

He looked up to her and saw slight embarrassment on her face. “Robyn?”

“Shit Taron sorry. I think it was just habit. It was something I did in the 7/11 and ambulance, when you started to get anxious.”

“There seems to be a lot of things you have done for me that Richard left out. I didn’t know you did that. Thank you.”

“You don’t have to say thanks. Something else that wasn’t in our twenty questions, I personally love it when something does that to me. Playing with my hair, scratching my head, I literally melt. When I worked in the rooms with the children and they asked could they do my hair, I quickly obliged.” She felt Taron cringe under her. “They are actually really gentle Taron, except for when they bend down to pick up the brush they dropped and pull your hair with them but I loved it. I would sit for hours if I could.” Taron began to understand why Robyn calmed so quickly from his touch last night. “I just automatically started to do it to you without thinking.”

“I honestly don’t mind Robyn. It’s one of those comforting things I love too.” Taron closed the book and put it to his right side on the bed. “Robyn?” He asked quietly as he pulled his glasses off and looked up to her. “Can I stay here with you forever.”

Robyn looked to him confused. “Sorry?”

“Can I stay here with you forever, like this, just laying on your bed, reading baking books while you play with my hair. I don’t want to leave our little bubble that we have made.” Taron’s voice cracked as he spoke the last few words.

On hearing the break in his voice, Robyn instantly wrapped her arms around Taron’s shoulders, cradling his head in her arms against her chest, Taron moving so his hands could hold Robyn’s arms. “What happened Taron?”

“I had a missed call from my publicist.” He answered. “It only means one thing.”

“Ahh shit Taron.” She cuddled him closer. It was definitely a bubble they had made for themselves in Robyn’s quiet apartment in her home town and she was pretty sure she could count on two hands how many people knew Taron was with her, almost hidden away but it seemed their little paradise of healing was no longer a secret and she knew Taron was not quite ready to be harassed by the media just yet. “Don’t start worrying about it until you talk to her. It is a her right?”

“Yeah Lyndsey.”

“Ok well, let’s get some breakfast and then you can ring Lyndsey. It might not be what you think.”

“I can’t deal with the media at the moment Robyn.”

“And you won’t have to Taron. Talk to Lyndsey first before you start over thinking everything.” She soothed his hair down. “Don’t get worked up over something that hasn’t happened.” She felt him nod against her and she hugged him hard. “You knew yourself this was going to happen so it’s not a complete surprise but you have a wonderful support system around you Taron and I am sure Lyndsey will be doing everything she can to keep you protected and stop the story from spiralling out of control.”

“Yeah she will but you too Robyn. You don’t need to be pulled into this with me.”

“Taron, I knew who were you in the 7/11 as soon as I saw you and Richard and I made the decision to help you. I understand some of the nature of your work and the responsibility that comes with it and my name is going to be put out there.”

“I don’t want that to happen Robyn.”

“I don’t think this is one story the media are going to be able to twist though Taron. The truth is what will make it easier for all of us and I don’t mind if my name is there alongside yours. We are in this together right? That’s what we agreed. It isn’t a kinky sex story of scandal and disgrace. It’s a true representation of what happened that kept you alive.”

“You don’t know how the media spin stories though.”

“You remember Valerie, right? I work in a small building, as a supervisor, full of women. I am used to a story being spun sideways. I am a big girl Taron. I can take it.” She felt him take a long breath and she brushed her right hand through his hair again. “One step at a time. It’s been working well for us so far. We are talking through everything and look how far we have come in four days. This is just another hurdle we knew was coming towards us. Ring Lyndsey after breakfast and see what she has to say.” Brushing his hair again, Robyn pressed her lips to his head.

“Or I could just stay in our bubble.” He repeated his earlier words. “Let me stay in it for a while longer, ok?”

“For as long as you need.” Robyn felt Taron bury his head closer to her, the baking book now forgotten, fallen to the floor as he turned a little so he could get closer to Robyn.

With his shirt off and being so close to him, she was able to see more clearly the bruising that marred the skin on his side. It still looked incredibly sore. It was only over a week since he had been beaten by numerous falling glass candles and hit with a bullet and his body had really yet to show signs of healing. Even though Robyn had thrown herself back into work, Taron was nowhere near ready to let his body even attempt to do anything more strenuous then laying on a bed like he was doing now. She carefully swept his hair back again, letting her short nails gently scratch his head, a motion she knew Taron enjoyed as he lifted his head a little into her touch. As she scratched his head again, she looked down to his forehead where the steri-strips covered the wound that started at his hairline which was still angry and red. “What did the doctor say about your head?” She asked, moving her fingers from his hair to the tender bruises around the gash.

“When I get my stitches out, the doctor who does that, needs to look at my head and see if they need to take the strips off or leave them for another while.”

“When do your stitches have to come out?”

“Doctor Hart said ten days at least if not more because of how deep the wound on my arm was.”

Robyn mentally counted the days. “Ok well I get my stitches out on tomorrow morning. Do you want to come with me and we can make an appointment for you too? You will still be here with me ten days after you were stitched up so we might as well ask. The doctor can check your head as well.”

“Yeah ok. I can’t keep them in until I go home to Aber. I was given a dressing to cover the cut on my head but I haven’t used it.”

“You should cover it, if the doctor told you to. It helps keep it clean so it doesn’t get infected.” Taron murmured something but she didn’t quite catch what he said. “I can cover it for you.” She replied to his mumblings as she ran her fingers through his hair again. “Taron?”

“Hmm.”

“You listening to me?”

“Hmm. No don’t stop.” He complained when Robyn lifted her hand from his hair. “It’s nice.”

She chuckled. “Everybody loves having their hair played with.” She resumed the gentle scratching of his head, Taron cuddling into her some more, tucking his legs up so he was more comfortable on the bed. “I can’t do this all day.” She said as Taron snugged more into her. She took his glasses from his left hand and moved them onto the pillow to her left. “And you still have to talk to Lyndsey.”

“Two more minutes.” He replied. “Maybe three.” Closing his eyes, Taron leant fully into Robyn, sighing as her hand applied the perfect amount of pressure to his head.

Robyn smiled as Taron became jelly under her hands, his whole body relaxing into her, once again heat radiating from him as he cuddled tighter against her and she was very much willing to hug him close. Every time there was an ounce of progress, something knocked them back and now it was Taron’s worries over what kind of story the media would string about his ordeal. Robyn was sure though that his publicist would be more than willing to help Taron in every way possible and ensure rumours would be dealt with quickly. “Taron?”

“Hmm?” It was the softest of replies from the man in her arms.

“Lyndsey?”

“One more minute.”

“Breakfast?” She tried.

“One more minute.” He repeated.

“You are going to get cold.” She answered him back as her right hand rubbed up and down his bare back. “The bedroom is really cold now with the air con on all night.”

“No you’re warm.” He replied sleepily. “One more minute.” Taron lay his right arm around Robyn’s waist, his left curled against his side. “A minute. Hair. Please.” Taron’s sentences became single words.

“Only because you asked so nicely.” Robyn resumed the head massage she was giving him. She couldn’t say no to him, especially when he looked a little vulnerable like he did in the 7/11. Their roles of who was looking after who continued to change throughout their time together and though Taron had been looking after Robyn during the night, Robyn now held him in her arms as he lay cosily against her.

It was a comfort Taron didn’t know he needed but once Robyn guided him into her body for a hug, he very much enjoyed the physical contact she gave him and nuzzled closer to her, hearing her steady heartbeat in his ear, finding it hard to even comprehend how hollow his chest would have sounded to her when he wasn’t breathing. Taron closed his eyes, thoroughly enjoying how Robyn’s nimble fingers kneaded his head. He was a very open and cuddly person and willingly shared hugs and cuddles with his family and friends but it had been a long time since he had been given a cuddle like the one Robyn was giving him. He hated how the mention of affection and emotions made men seem weak and that it was something they couldn’t experience, that they weren’t actually allowed to feel, weren’t allowed to show. He never shied away from his emotions and hugs like these were very rare for him, others normally brushing him off when he wanted to stay in a hug for longer, or have an extra tight cuddle. Robyn was different. She understood the importance and meaning behind an embrace like this and as she continued to ease his worries about newspapers and media with simple gestures of kindness, it was refreshing that he could be himself around her.

“You are going to fall back asleep.” Robyn’s voice broke through his thoughts.

“Won’t.” He replied although he felt very close to a nice slumber.

“I don’t mind if you want to sleep Taron. We don’t have anything else planned for the day.”

“Might do.” Taron opened his eyes as his stomach grumbled making Robyn laugh. “Though my stomach has other ideas.” He took a long breath, the fingers of his right hand rubbing his eyes.

“Sleep if you want.” She insisted.

“As much as I would love to, I need to take my pain killers and ring Lyndsey.” Taron carefully eased himself from Robyn’s body, laying back on the pillow behind him, feeling a difference in temperature between Robyn and the cotton on his back. “I knew it was coming, the shit with the media. I just didn’t think it would be so soon.”

“It’s been a week Taron. I think you have done really good not to hear anything about it until now. Please don’t worry until you have spoken to Lyndsey.” Robyn moved to her side, her head resting in her right hand as she looked at him.

“I rang her when I was in the hospital to tell her what had happened so she would be prepared. She told me she would contact me when she started to read anything herself or hear anything, telling me it would be best if I made a quick little press release once the media found out.”

“Well that’s not the end of the world is it? One press conference, done and dusted.”

“I will have to travel to London to do it.”

“Oh no you won’t. You are on house arrest and under strict orders to rest. I am sure it can be organised from Aberystwyth or even online so you don’t even have to travel.”

“I like how you put perspective on everything for me Robyn.”

“I try.” She slid her left hand on top of his as it lay on his stomach. “Taron when you ring Lyndsey, she will also help to put your mind at ease. She has always been your publicist?”

“Yeah since the first Kingsman.”

“Well then Taron I do believe she will have your best interests at heart. She will do everything she can to keep the pressure off you and just going off topic for a moment. I didn’t realise how bad your bruising was Taron. I have some arnica cream that will help you.” She gave his hand little squeeze. “Everything is going to be ok Taron.” Leaning forward she kissed his cheek. “I am going to go and have a quick shower and rustle up something for breakfast.” She shuffled off the bed and walked around to pick up the baking cook book that fell on the floor. “Here, pick something that you really want to bake and we will make it and bring it to dinner on Tuesday.” Taron took the book from her. “Anyone you want, ok?”

“Yeah ok.” He breathed. “Thanks Robyn. We seem to have a good moment and then it’s just ruined by a bad one.”

“Hey as long as we go through the bad ones together, right?”

“Right.” He agreed.

“Chin up Taron. After what we have been through, we are ready to face whatever the world wants to throw our way.” She turned to walk away but looked back to him. “And if it makes you feel any better, I don’t want our little bubble to burst either.”

[golddaggers]

La Vie En Rose // Dylan O’Brien

(NOT MY GIF)

A/N: Okay. So no one asked for the Sunday thing. It’s fine. But I had started writing this piece a while ago and just finished, soooo... no harm in sharing it, right? Well. I hope you like it! :D

Warnings: well...... it was supposed to be just fluff. but it sorta became a smut. nothing “wooow, what if people catch me reading this?”, but still a smut so. cursing. masturbation. sex. dylan o’brien. the usual. 

Word count: 1,8k+ 

It was a little past four p.m. when I decided I would cook dinner tonight. Normally Dylan and I would just go to a restaurant or order due to our busy schedules. However, since I had a free day, I decided to treat my beloved boyfriend with a homemade meal. He simply adored those little surprises. So did I, in that matter. 

Giggling, I focused on slicing the tomatoes. Within my family, there was a secret recipe for the perfect tomato sauce that I had never remembered to cook until today, so it would be the first time Dylan would taste it.

Well, the reason I chose this was entwined with our first date. The hot and humid night was still fresh in my memories, as if it had been yesterday. He took me to a private place, which, may I add, was booked only for us. I was so mesmerized I remember my legs going weak. I had gone to extravagant dates before, but this was a whole other deal. Okay, I definitely went off course here.

The chef was Italian, so I was tempted to go for pizza, but Dylan proposed we tried one of the pastas, his favourite choice. I mean, no one would ever hear me denying pasta. Either way, I was glad I didn't. It was the most delicious thing I had ever put in my mouth. I could only hope I was able to reproduce that dish.

“This house is so quiet…” Dropping the knife, I searched for my phone in hopes to put on some music. I was stuck mumbling the lyrics of “La Vie En Rose” all day long. “Oh you cheesy weirdo.”

There were a few texts coming from Dylan. They were brief, just saying that he couldn’t wait for the shooting to be over so he could finally see me. And also that he was missing me as hell. I mean - I knew I was a pretty decent person, no need to be humble, but… I didn’t know what I had done to deserve such a caring man.

With a shit-eating grin, I replied, noticing the texts had come about an hour ago, indicating that Dyl was probably on his way home. The butterflies on my stomach began bothering me upon thinking about his warm embrace and husky voice. I wondered if one day I would not feel like a thirteen year old around him. Something inside me told that I probably wouldn’t. I didn’t care.

“Hold me close and hold me fast…” I began singing, swiftly becoming oblivious to my surroundings, fixating myself on the sauce instead.

The kitchen smelt amazing, my mouth was watering to eat that. I swivelled a wooden spoon one last time and went to reach another pan to boil the pasta. The studio Dylan was working at was a bit far from the house we lived in, so I was taking my time. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind waiting a bit anyway.  

I leant down to pick up the Penne package I had bought. The song had shuffled to another version. Now it was a woman singing instead of Louis Armstrong. It was even more beautiful, I dare to say.

While adding the Penne to the boiling water, I went on mumbling the lyrics, closing my eyes for an instant. That was when I felt a set of arms wrapping around my waist, lips attaching to my neck.

“When you press me to your heart, I'm in a world apart…”

“Hey, darling.” His deep voice muttered against my skin. “I love coming home to you singing.”

“I should do it more often, then.” I grinned, lowering the fire so I could spin to face him. Dylan looked a tad tired, hence my hands urged to cup his face, my features probably showing a concerned gleam. “Is everything okay?”

“Now it is.” He simply said. “Can we just relax?”

“Of course we can…” In a quick movement, Dyl placed me on the counter, getting between my legs and urgently kissing my collarbones. I gasped, landing my hands on his broad shoulders. “Can we talk first? Please?”

“Babe, I just want to make love to you. No talking, please. Work was hell today. I promise I will tell you everything after.”

The tips of his hands got dangerously close to my core, so I threw my head back, gnawing my bottom lip. Oh shoot. There was no arguing when he dealt things like that.

“Dinner is going to burn.”

He chuckled, blindly turning off the oven, returning his full attention to my body. In a matter of seconds, Dyl undid all my dress’ buttons, which left me in nothing but a pair of black panties. I glared at him in expectation.

“A quickie? Right here?”

“Our neighbours might see it, hun’.”

“I don't care.” I felt his hot tongue wrapped around my nipple, hands grasping my waistline with some force. I, without a double, would get some purple bruises later. Not that I minded though. “Jesus, you are so fucking hot.”

“Oh fuck.”

My panties were torn with anger, causing me to squeal in astonishment. Dylan merely smirked, rubbing my clit a bit. That man just knew what he had to do to make me feel all bothered and flushed. However, after a minute or two, he stopped. I grunted, clearly frustrated. I wanted - no, no. I needed more.

“Oh babe, no need for that. I'm gonna’ take care of you just right.”

“Damn it. I love when you talk like that.”

I watched anxiously as he loosened his belt, dropping the pants and underwear down just enough for his dick to bounce free. A smug grin enlightened my face, which made him roll his eyes.

“What? You don't need to do much to make me hard.”

“I can see that.”

Dylan pried open my legs, stroking himself a couple of times before finally entering me in a quick push. I moaned out loud, grasping the cold edges of the counter. Shit, that was good.

Squeezing my butt cheeks, my boyfriend sought my lips, a sensual kiss following it. Our tongues rolled together as his hips slammed against mine. With my eyes still closed, I bit his bottom lip, slowly releasing it, his taste flooding my mouth. In the meanwhile, his long, skinny fingers went down, gently circling the throbbing nub between my legs.

I was not able to hold back the long, loud moan that followed. Dyl smiled against, my neck, his pink mouth sinfully attacking my neck, biting, sucking, whatever it could do to tease me further. Damn. My nails scratched his back, pulling him towards me even further. The sudden movement made him lose balance, bringing a wave of laughter to the steamy session.

“Careful, hun’, I don’t want you hurting yourself.”

“Oh. Are you going to pretend this is not your fault?”

Another laugh slipped whilst my gorgeous boyfriend rolled his eyes, gripping at the base of my thighs, picking up where he had left off. I bit my lip, my arms wrapped around his neck. The way his breath felt… Urgh. Every single hair I had in my body was up. Shivers, chills. I had them all. His tongue, then, toyed with one of my nipples, swirling playfully. I grunted, leaning in to have my way with him too. Taste the flavour of his skin, feel him reacting to my caresses.

Everything seemed to be hot and wet. I knew I wouldn’t last much longer and, by the looks of it, neither would Dylan. I knit my legs around his hips, clenching around him. He smirked, squeezing the flesh of my waistline, his irregular breathing stirring me on even further. Until one tired, husky moan fell off his lips as he came. Falling apart inside me. 

“Not yet?” He quizzed, still shaking from pleasure.

“Not yet.”

After a quick nod, Dylan moved a little more, the tips of fingers finally getting me to arch back, feeling a numbing, pleasurable sensation hit me. We both stood there for a moment. High on each other. His face was nested between my breasts, my fingers were carelessly untangling his hair, our breathing fighting to get even. And that peaceful moment would’ve lasted longer if it wasn’t for an annoying knock on the door.

“Fuck.”

“Go answer while I fix myself?”

Dyl nodded, finally pulling away from me. I felt unexpectedly cold without him within my arms. I slided down the counter, picking up my dress to carelessly put it back on again, leaving the two first buttons undone. Once I got to the living room, I was surprised with Mr. Frisier at the door, his face glistening red. 

Oh. They were fighting. I sped to stand beside Dylan, the two men suddenly quiet due to my arrival. His hand quickly found its way to my hip, pulling us closer. I could tell Frisier bubbled in anger.

“May I know what is happening here?”

“We have children, you know.”

“I know…?” I was puzzled. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“If you're screwing in the kitchen, you should at least close the freaking curtains.”

“Oh.” My cheeks grew warmer. “I'm sorry-”

“No, babe. Listen to me, you are not coming to my home, telling me what I should or shouldn't do inside it.”

“Dylan-”

“Babe. Let me handle it.”

Huffing, I rolled my eyes. Dylan was so stubborn sometimes.

“Mr. Frisier, I am sorry. We'll be careful next time. Now, if you excuse us, good night.”

“Wait-”

The door was slammed shut before he could finish. My boyfriend looked annoyed, his arms crossed against his chest whilst glaring at me. I chuckled. He was so cute when he was angry, that cute pink lip pouting.

Without saying anything, I walked back to the kitchen, finding my meal half done on the oven. I was quick to set everything back on so I could finish it. Dylan came to the room with an intrigued look on his face.

“Sweetheart-”

“I told you they'd see it.”

He laughed, hugging me from behind, his breath fanning the back of my neck. I chewed my bottom lip, trying to focus on the almost done pasta. The sauce boiling.

“Stop… I'm trying to cook.” Dyl smirked against my skin. “Don't you think once is enough?”

“With you? There's no such thing as enough.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Uh-uh.” The room went silent for a second. “I love you.”

My face gleamed with the happiest smile. It was barely a whisper, nonetheless, it pierced my soul. I could never get tired of hearing him say he loved me. And also a little bit relieved for I loved that man more than he could even imagine.

“I love you too.”

Dylan certainly made my life pink.

[silverfootstepswrites]

Lullaby [50%]

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Read Equinox here and come back!

“Ooh. I think I see a lil bump!” Temari cooed as she flopped down on the sofa next to Sakura. When she reached over, Sakura slapped her hand away.

“Don’t just go around touching people’s bodies, Tem!” Sakura scolded.

“Alright, alright. Sorry,” Temari sulked. But she looked up when Madara flipped the page of his magazine in a deliberate, sharp sound.

“You won’t be able to feel anything anyway,” Madara told her. And then he glanced over the magazine at Sakura. Scanning her face for a moment. “Are you feeling alright, Bunny?” he asked. His voice a little less crisp.

“It’s better. Still a little queasy,” sighed Sakura. She shifted on the sofa. Hugging one of the throw pillows to her chest. Her phone vibrated and she swiped her thumb across the screen. She tilted it to show Temari the photo that popped up. 

“Hey. It’s Aquaman,” Temari remarked, leaning against Sakura’s shoulder. 

It was a selfie of Kisame at the airport. He wore reflective sunglasses, along with a heinous tropical print shirt. There was an departures board behind him. 

“Is he visiting for the summer again?” asked Hidan, craning his neck to peek from the other end of the sofa. Until Sakura turned the screen toward him. 

“Yeah. Says the water’s too cold the rest of the year,” answered Sakura as she typed a response to his message. 

“Remind me why he’s not part of your nest? I thought you said he was okay,” Kakuzu inquired, turning away from his computer to face them. He crossed his arms across his chest, spinning the chair back and forth.

“Sharks are sort of...” Sakura trailed off, trying to find the best words.

“They’re ‘hit it and quit it’ types,” Hidan supplied. 

Sakura wrinkled her nose. “Gross. But yeah. They don’t stay to raise their kids. And that was a no-no for me. He’s cool with the guys and me, though.”

Everyone looked up as the door clicked open. Tobirama stepped inside, plucking at his shirt. He took off his sunglasses with a sharp sigh.

“It’s June. Why’s it so hot?” he grumbled. He grunted in greeting when Madara waved at him. Crossing the room in a few steps, he placed the cardboard tray of drinks down on the desk. He plucked one out- the one with slices of lemons bobbing among the ice. And then he moved a few more steps to kick Hidan’s foot.

“You’re in my seat.”

Hidan grimaced, like he was about to snap something in return. Instead, grumbling, he got to his feet and moved to sit on the arm of the sofa instead. 

Tobirama pushed his hair out of his face. Sweat beaded on his hairline and down the back of his neck. Sakura fanned him with her hand. Shaking his head, he pushed her hand down. “The AC’s on. I’ll live,” he told her.  He handed her the cold drink.

“Are you feeling better?” Tobirama then asked. He ran his hand over her stomach, rubbing just below her belly button as she took a sip.

“Still sore. I called the doctor and she said it’s normal,” Sakura answered. She smiled when he leaned in to kiss her. And when she opened her eyes, he was pulling her legs up to drape across his lap. He rubbed his hands up and down her calves. 

“Maybe we should get you one of those pillows,” he suggested. 

She knew exactly what he was talking about. “You mean those giant ones that looks like a weird worm?” Laughing at the very thought. Tobirama smiled in return.

“I’ll think about it. I might need a bigger bed, though,” she warned.

Later that day, Sakura sat at her kitchen table. She leaned against Kakashi’s shoulder, watching as he scrolled down the tablet screen with his pointer finger.

“Mm... this one looks okay,” she suggested. Kakashi pulled his finger away to let her swipe up a little bit. She selected one of the movies. And then they both took a few seconds to read through the synopsis. 

“That sounds good. Oh. Hold on,” he said. Sakura watched as he hurried to the stove. A dutch oven sat on the burner. When Kakashi lifted the lid, the aroma of ginger wafted over to her. 

Sakura raised her arm to cover her nose. More out of habit than anything. But after a moment, she took a tentative sniff. And then another. Kakashi glanced back at her before he stirred the broth a few times.

“You alright?” he asked.

Sakura took a deep breath. “Yeah. Wow. That smells good.”

“Thank goodness. The mayor swore by this recipe,” Kakashi sighed. Replacing the lid on the pot, he returned to his seat. He rubbed Sakura’s back a little.

“I wanna eat garlic without puking, Kakashi.”

“I know.”

“And fries.”

“Yeah.”

“And coffeeeee, Kakashi. I want iced coffee,” she whined, collapsing against him with a dramatic sigh. Kakashi wrapped his arm around her, chuckling. 

“That must suck. I’m sorry,” he replied.

And she liked that so much about him. How he didn’t try to tell her to look at the bright side. Or to remind her that it would all pay off in the end. She knew there was a bright side. And of course it would pay off. But it was nice to have him sit and listen. And then to acknowledge that it sucked in the moment that every delicious food in the world currently made her stomach as rowdy as a mosh pit.

But the wave of self-pity passed and she peered up at him. Kakashi smiled as he returned her gaze. 

“Sorry. I’m not much fun to be around when I’m like this, huh?” she mumbled.

“I think you’re allowed to complain. Don’t be sorry,” Kakashi comforted her. 

“...okay.” As her mouth curled up at the corners, Kakashi leaned in and kissed it. 

Three days later, a boat pulled into the single, lonely dock down at the beach. Kakashi spotted it during his early rounds of the town. His misty tail swirling behind him as he squinted down at the white shape bobbing on the morning waves.

Later that morning, Sakura traveled the wooden walkway down to the beach. Itachi right ahead of her, stamping on suspicious planks to test them before she set foot on each of them. And even as she insisted him that he was worrying too much, Sakura appreciated all the care.

The seagulls screeched overhead. Waves lapped at the rocky shoreline. When they approached the pier, Itachi stood on top of it with a frown. He shaded his eyes with his right hand, squinting out at the water.

“Careful,” he warned. He eyed the waves.

“Will you relax?”

Itachi lowered his hand and put on his sunglasses instead. He let out a heavy sigh.

“I’ll be fine,” Sakura laughed. As she spoke, Sakura dunked both feet into the water. It felt cool in the muggy, end-of-June heat.

The boat tethered to the pier creaked a little. Bobbing on the rising tides. 

Slowly, a black shape drifted up toward the surface. It wavered underneath the ripples. Before a dark fin sliced through the surface. It drifted towards them before abruptly changing direction. It did this a few times, rising up, circling closer, and then moving away. 

Until finally, the fin cut a path directly to Sakura. Webbed hands slapped down on the pier before Kisame hoisted himself out of the water. His sharp teeth gleaming as he demanded, “Wow. Why do you smell amazing?” Droplets plinking back into the waves, onto the worn wood, sliding in cool trails down her thighs. 

“Hey-” Itachi began to protest. But before he could finish, Kisame grasped her forearms and sank back into the water. Or at least, he tried. Because before he could, a shadow coiled around Sakura, dragging her further back on the pier, away from the water. 

“Kakashi,” she sighed. Half-relieved and half- no. Just relieved. Because even if she knew Kisame was always joking around, she wasn’t keen on the idea of letting him drag her into open water like that. Even if he didn’t mean any harm. 

The black mist tightened around her. And it reminded Sakura, oddly enough, of what it felt like to have Kakashi’s arm around her. If she concentrated, she could even feel his body heat in the curve of the darkness.

“Hey, Sheriff,” Kisame greeted him. Elbows on the end of the pier, he lifted his torso out of the water. The black dog snarled, baring sharp teeth in response. Hackles raised as he glowered at Kisame.

“Woah. Seriously. It’s just me, Kakashi. Don’t act like we’re strangers,” Kisame tried again. His mirth fading altogether. 

Sakura twisted around in Kakashi’s embrace. Her hands touching the sides of his muzzle, waiting for his eyes to find her. Eventually, they did. One black and one red- sparkling like strange jewels. She smiled at him.

“Hey. I’m okay,” she told him, keeping her voice low and soft. 

“I’m safe. And Itachi’s safe. We’re all okay. It’s just Kisame, right? He’s our friend,” she went on. She stroked her hands down his back. Feeling the bristling fur under her hands. Rubbing up and down before she heard him huff. 

Kakashi’s shoulders slowly relaxed.  The mist swirled around him. Pulling and stretching upwards. When he rematerialized, his arms were wrapped around her.

“You’re okay?” Kakashi asked.

“Yeah,” Sakura replied. She felt him nuzzle against the top of her head.

“Sorry,” he mumbled. Probably too embarrassed to let her see his expression. 

“How many times do I have to tell you? Don’t be sorry. You’re getting better every day,” she replied, still rubbing her hands up and down Kakashi’s back.

“But what was it this time?” she asked. She felt his arms tighten around her. She shook him a little.

“I won’t know if you don’t tell me!” she insisted.

Kakashi heaved a sigh. He whispered, “I can’t protect you if you’re all the way out in the ocean.”

It was only then that he pulled away to look her in the face. 

“Please don’t go where I can’t keep you safe.... Please.”

Maybe if she hadn’t seen his expression, she would have laughed it off. Told him not to worry. But his eyes told her everything that he didn’t know how to explain in words.  Sakura felt her heart contract. 

“Okay.”

They both looked up as they heard Itachi’s sandals slapping against the pier. He walked over, both his hands in his pockets. As he crouched down beside them, he rubbed his jaw. Sakura recognized the gesture- he only did it when he was thinking hard about something. 

“I’m getting hungry. Should we have lunch?” he suggested, putting one hand on Sakura’s back and the other on Kakashi’s. And then he looked over Sakura’s head to Kisame, who hovered in the water. Clearly unsure whether it was safe to approach or not.

Itachi got to his feet and walked to the end of the pier. He offered his hand to Kisame, who grasped it.

“The sheriff should be fine,” Itachi then assured him. And just as Kisame mustered a smile, Itachi dropped his. His irises tinging red at the edges.

“But don’t ever touch Sakura without her permission again,” Itachi added in a flat voice. He shoved Kisame back in the water with a terrific, uncoordinated splash. 

“...He’s a merman, you know. That won’t hurt him,” Kakashi pointed out. 

“I know,” sniffed Itachi. And then he turned back around to help Sakura to her feet. 

“You need to relax. I’ve got my hands full with the four of you already,” Sakura said as she watched Itachi help Kakashi to his feet too. 

Itachi put his arm around Sakura’s shoulders, pulling her against his side. “Oh, I know. I trust you. That was just for me,” he responded. Sakura rolled her eyes as Kakashi and Itachi exchanged a high-five behind her back. 

That night, sitting around the kitchen table in Sakura’s house, Kiba guffawed as Itachi recounted the story. 

“Niiiice!” Kiba crowed. He reached across the table to slap Itachi his second high-five of the day.

“Seriously unnecessary,” Sakura grumbled into her pasta. 

“No, this is normal,” Tobirama informed her from her right. 

 “Really?”

“Nest dynamics include defending territory,” he explained. All eyes were on him now. It was helpful that out of the five of them, at least one understood what was going on. Sometimes, anyway.

“The arrival of a single male is threatening. Wolves do it too, I’m assuming,” Tobirama went on. He looked to Kiba.

“Hm, yeah, I mean, I guess. It’s mostly just biting for us, though,” Kiba answered after some thought. He grinned at Sakura before demonstrating his bite for her. She laughed.

“It also explains why Kakashi’s been so....” Tobirama trailed off as he glanced at Kakashi. Who went on placing more salad on Sakura’s plate. 

“Growly?” Kiba offered. 

“Sure,” Tobirama sighed. 

“I feel bad about being so rude to him, though,” Kakashi finally spoke up for the first time that night. 

“I don’t,” muttered Kiba, taking a big bite of his food. 

“We should invite him for dinner sometime,” he went on, ignoring Kiba’s snickers.

“He better not get handsy again,” Itachi remarked. Kiba grunted in response. 

“He won’t,” Tobirama said. And Sakura caught him wielding his knife in a very deliberate way as he sliced his chicken into very small pieces. 

They did the dishes and cleaned up. It all went so much faster with so many hands helping. Kiba had work early in the morning and Itachi had a meeting in the city, so they were the first to leave. Kakashi lingered for a while, too before he headed home to feed his dogs. 

That left Tobirama, who sat on the edge of the tub as they brushed their teeth together. He watched her, one hand on his hip. And Sakura was used to his stares, so she didn’t ask him about it. Just waited for him to gather the words. She could tell that he was thinking carefully as they took turns washing their faces. And he only complained a little when she applied some of her lotion to his face. 

Sakura climbed into bed first. She watched Tobirama leave the bedroom. Listened to him double-checking the locks on all the doors before he returned to crank up the air conditioner. After he turned off the light, he crawled under the covers with her. His end-of-day stubble scratching against her face as he kissed her. 

“Dinner was okay?” he asked her, stretching his arm across the pillow so that she could snuggle close. 

“Yeah.”

“You don’t feel sick?”

“I’m good.”

He kissed her again, like he was rewarding her for her responses. The very thought made her giggle softly against his shirt. Her eyes drifted shut as the air conditioner rumbled to life in the backyard. Cool air rushed through the vents, just the way she liked it. 

“Sakura?” Tobirama asked into the darkness. Finally. 

“Mm?”

“Nothing. I just wanted to say your name.”

She giggled even harder. She slapped him on the side, listening to him pretend that it hurt. “Come on. Didn’t you want to ask me something? Why’ve you been staring at me all night?” she pressed. She knew the curiosity would keep her up all night if she didn’t ask now. 

“Oh. That?” 

There was a pause. And then she felt him move his hand. It began stroking her hair. 

“I was just having a moment. I couldn’t decide whether this was real or not. Like whether I’m allowed to be this happy,” he sighed. Sakura knew he was only half-serious. Still, his flattery was always welcome. 

“Well, this very real pregnant lady needs to pee. Again,” she announced nudging at his chest. His arms tightened around her. 

“Don’t go. Stay here with me,” Tobirama whined. 

“You won’t be saying that when I pee the bed. Move,” Sakura urged, poking him again. 

“I don’t care.”

“You’re disgusting,” Sakura laughed.

[sweet-pea-channie]

Wind in my hair - Dylan O’Brien Series (Part 8)

Part 8: True, hard reality

Author: @herscrunchiehairtie

Summary: Y/N and Dylan are enjoying the evening at his place and while they sit in his backyard Dylan reveals his feeling for her. 

Warnings: K-I-S-S-I-N-G, some fluff, some more fluff

Want to be tagged? Send me a message :)

Part 1 - Part 7 - Part 9 - Series Overview - Masterlist

12th June 2018

Weeks passed by, you had received another chemo just a few days ago. You were feeling better than ever. Your doctors were surprised that the therapy was working just fine for you. Seemed like you were the perfect guinea pig.

Dylan had to leave three days after you took him in, work was calling. You were doing better and could stay on your own. He was the perfect nurse, he cooked dinner for both of you every day, went grocery shopping and he even finished your laundry that Andrew put in the washing machine. You wanted to help him, but he wouldn’t let you.

You watched your favorite series most of the time. Even though it was quite warm outside, you stayed in, sharing a blanket together on your couch. With his arms wrapped around you, you had your back leaned against him, not realizing that he was watching you the whole time instead of the TV.

He couldn’t get the kiss out of his head, the first kiss that you shared and it wasn’t the only one you shared after that. You shared a few kisses here and there but it was never developing into something more, no make-out sessions on your couch. Every time, you tilted your head back, looking at the gorgeous man, he placed a kiss on your forehead, your eyes closing each time.

There was this moment; Dylan was cooking dinner with music playing in the background. You sneaked your arms around his waist, intertwining your fingers in front of him. Dylan put the wooden spoon aside and turned around, your arms stills holding onto him. He grabbed your face and placed a lingering kiss on your lips, pulling away too soon for your liking. You whined and pouted your lips, asking for another kiss. Dylan smiled, shaking his head at you. He couldn’t believe that you were feeling the same.

“Give me this dance and you get another kiss,” he whispered in your ear, holding his hand out for you to take. You took it immediately and followed him to your living room. He put one hand on your lower back, the other one holding onto your hip. You put your hands on his shoulders, your body pressed against his. He was swaying to the music, from the left to the right. He never broke your eye contact; he couldn’t get enough of you.

The music changed and Dylan grabbed one of your hands, swirling you around one and then two times until you put your hands on his chest, getting on your tip toes to be on his level. His arms wrapped around your body, holding you tight. He closed his eyes, leaning in and put his lips on yours. You smiled into the kiss and wrapped your arms around his neck, playing the short hair on the back of his head.

Dylan had to leave before you two talked about your real feelings for each other. There was no right timing to talk about it. The only time he mentioned something was over text, saying that he wanted to talk to you as soon as possible.

You invited him over one time, but before he could arrive at your place, your grandma came barging in, so you had to eat lunch with her and Dylan. There was no time to talk about the two of you. It felt like you were not destined to be together, like everything was trying its best to keep you separated. But not today, not today.

Dylan texted you yesterday, asking if you wanted to hang out with him today. Of course, you said yes. Maybe this would be the right time.

You got ready around 1pm, heading outside to wait for Dylan. He was picking you up, as always. Even though you lived all across town in South Gate, he took his time to pick you up.

His black Audi stopped in front of your complex and you rushed down the path to get into his car. You opened the door and hopped in, kissing him on his cheek before you shut the door and put on your seat belt. Dylan smiled and waited until you were ready to go before he rushed down the streets of LA.

“So, did you finish the project you told me about or is it still going on?” you asked him to break the silence. You turned in your seat to get a better look at him. His hands were on the steering wheel, his eyes never leaving the road.

“Yup, all done,” he replied, popping the p. “Maybe, if you’re being nice to me today, I might give you a hint.”

“Alright, I’ll try my best,” you let out a laugh. “Anything planned for today? I mean, for dinner? Are you taking me out or are we staying in and cook something on our own?”

“You want me to take you out?”

“Nah, I’m not feeling like going out today. Maybe we can cook the recipe I showed you the other day, you know the one with the broccoli rice and shrimps,” you suggested.

Dylan looked at you for a quick moment, lifting his eyebrows. “You want to eat low-carb? Really? I never thought you were that type of girl.”

“I’m not, but the picture looked so delicious,” you explained and pouted your lips, hoping that your puppy eyes were helping you. Dylan rolled his eyes. Without looking at you, he knew exactly what you were doing right now. “Don’t give me the puppy eyes! But yes, we can cook it, if you want. I’m open for everything.”

You waited for Dylan to open the front door to his house while you were leaning against the door frame, staring at the brown haired young man. He fumbled with the keys until he found the right one and unlocked the door. He held the door open for you and followed you inside, locking the door behind him after he shut it.

You got rid of your shoes immediately and you were long gone to his living room area, staring out the big windows to see the pool in front of the gorgeous view.

“You wanna drink something?” his voice snapped you back to reality. You turned your head to get a better look and smiled at him while you nodded your head. “That fancy water of yours would be so great.”

Dylan rolled his eyes and grabbed a glass for you, filling it with tab water. It was a while ago, when Dylan offered you a glass of fancy water, saying that it was so special, no normal human being could afford it. Of course, it was a joke, it was just plain old tab water. Taking the glass of water from him, he put his right arm around your lower back and tugged you closer.

“God, I love it here,” you mumbled while you were sipping on your glass. You didn’t notice that Dylan was staring down at you the whole time, admiring the way your eyes crinkled when you smiled. He didn’t know when or how, but he knew for sure that he was falling you hard.

“I hope you packed your bathing suit,” he said out of nowhere. You looked up to him and caught him staring down at you, his eyes were clued to yours. “It’s your lucky day, O’Brien,” you laughed and walked away from him. Putting your glass of water on the kitchen counter, you grabbed your bag and dig through it until you found your red and white bathing suit.

“Come on, let’s get dressed then.”

“Like right now?” you asked him. He nodded and told you to get ready while he made sure that it was all cozy outside. He was already in his swim trunks; he had forgone to put on jeans when he was picking you up.

When you joined him in the backyard, he was already knees deep in his pool, his arms spread wide open. You smiled and walked to the edge across from Dylan, sitting down. Slowly, you put your feet in the water until it reached your calves and then your knees. Dylan sighed and jumped head first in the water, diving his way to you. He reached the surface right in front of you and his arms found the perfect space of your thighs. You gasped when the cold water hit your thighs and you tried to push Dylan off you, but he held on your ankles until you were about to fall into the water.

You screamed and kicked with your feet until Dylan let go of your ankles. He dove under water and jumped back up, immediately, spiting a mouthful of water in your direction.

“Dylan!” you whined when the cold liquid met your stomach.

“Come on, it’s not that cold,” Dylan said and swam back to you. With your legs on either side, he rested in-between them and put his head on your left thigh, his wet hair tingled your skin.

“Well, I like it out here,” you replied and winked at him. He rolled his eyes and sneaked his arms around your hip, intertwining his fingers behind your back. It took you a while until you realized that he was slowly pulling you with him into the water and before you could react, your bum was already over the edge and your head was under water.

With your legs around Dylan’s waist, he pushed you back up and shook his hair, the droplets met your face. “You psycho,” you laughed and wiped the remaining water of your face.  

“Sweet but a psycho,” Dylan joined your laughter. You hit his shoulder and rolled your eyes, untangling your legs from his body and swam away from him where you could touch the ground. You weren’t that much shorter, but the few inches were enough for him to reach the ground where he was standing.

Time was passing by rather quickly and the two of you found yourself in his kitchen, preparing your dinner. Dylan helped you to cut the vegetables and handed you everything that you were asking for, like salt and pepper.

It felt so normal, being around each other. Dylan couldn’t take his hands off you most of the time. He tickled you, made sure to place plenty of kisses along your shoulders and back, and wrapped his arms around you to stir. You couldn’t complain, it was nice having him so close to you.

Dylan felt so free when he was spending time with you, that it scared him. He knew that he had to make you his, so he wouldn’t overthink your relationship. He had to make you his, before someone else would take you away from him. Today was the perfect day to confess his feelings, it couldn’t get better.

You took the last spoon of your rice before you placed the empty plate on the coffee table in front of you. Dylan was long done, a glass of red wine in his hand. He reached for your glass and gave it to you. Thanking him, you took a sip and closed your eyes for a while before you reopened them and admired the sunset in front of you.

“Come here,” Dylan said motioned for you to sit closer next to him. With your glass still in your hand, you scooted over and leaned yourself against his side. Dylan placed his left arm around your shoulders and tugged you closer.

It was silent, no awkward silence. You were both enjoying the colors of orange and purple that were mixing to a beautiful piece of art up in the sky. No words were needed. That’s what you thought. The soft music in the background that was playing from Dylan’s speakers inside were enough.

But Dylan couldn’t concentrate, all he could think about was you, the perfect girl he held in his arms. He knew that time was running, so he took his chance and said, “I think I’m falling for you.”

Your head spun around, your eyes wide opened with your lips slightly parted. The glass of red wine found its way to the table, you couldn’t hold it any longer. You couldn’t process what he just said, a mixture of shock and relief flowed through your veins. “I’m sorry, what? I think I heard you saying that-“

“I’m falling in love with you, yeah.”

“Dylan, I-“

“Please, just hear me out okay?” he asked and waited for you to nod, before he grabbed your feet and pulled your legs over his lap. “I know that you are scared of commitment and relationships and everything that comes with it. But you don’t have to. I know you’re scared that you might not make it to your 30’s, that you’ll leave sooner than you think, but I don’t care. All I care about is you. I want to make you happy, I want to make you laugh, see the perfect smile of yours, the way your eyes shine when I say something stupid again. I can’t stop thinking about the kisses we shared and I’m scared that every time we kiss, it might be the last one because I just can’t man up and tell you how I feel and sooner or later you might find someone else who can be a better man than me. I just… I don’t want to be without you anymore. And we can take things slow, there’s no need to rush. I just want to put a damn label on it before someone else does.”

“There is no one else,” you mumbled and grabbed his face, pressing your lips to his. Dylan kissed you back immediately, wrapping his arms around you. He pulled you on his lap and deepened the kiss while you played with the soft ends of his hair at the back of his neck. His tongue brushed your upper lip; a soft moan escaped your mouth and Dylan took the chance to slip his tongue past your lips, exploring your mouth. You couldn’t process what was happening, you were too deep in the kiss until Dylan put his hands on your lower back, swooping you on your back. He hovered over you, his hands on either side of your face to hold him up so he wouldn’t crush you.

Eventually, you had to pull away, the need of oxygen getting too much. You were panting with your eyes still closed. Dylan had to catch his breath as well; it was quite a while ago when he kissed someone like that. You finally opened your eyes and met his brown orbs, a smile that was so big, it reached from his left to his right ear. “So is this a yes?”

“Yeah, let’s go for it.”