#(and also moan about the tiniest bit of snow)

[pastafossa]

'Blah blah you'll HATE your new city it's so COLD there so why would you LEAVE this lovely SMALL TOWN with milder WINTERS that we still BITCH ABOUT just you WAIT CAUSE YOU'LL REGRET THIS'

Summertime arrives.

'IT'S SO HOT I CAN'T GO OUT I HATE IT I'M MISERABLE I CAN'T ESCAPE THE HEAT'

[oioinanami]

routines. (ushijima wakatoshi x f. reader)

word count: 1.9k

synopsis: ushijima had never considered himself to be a „relationship person“ - until he met you.

contains: fluff, acquaintances to lovers, very slight sexual suggestiveness if you squint

Ushijima Wakatoshi had always considered himself a stoic and reserved man. He lived and breathed for volleyball. He went running every morning, ate three meals a day, showered twice. He had his routines and he liked it like that.

But then came you - and everything suddenly changed. It was his best friend Tendou - charming, loud and fun Tendou - who introduced you to one another, probably not even thinking about Ushijima ever falling for you, or anyone really, it just seemed too ridiculous, too far fetched. Of course Ushijima had his fair share of sexual encounters, but never anything serious, and all of those were mostly just for him to blow off some steam. He had never felt the need for a real and stable relationship before. But you - you felt different to him; like a breath of fresh air on a stuffy day, like rays of sunlight gently warming his cold face, like a soft and sweet scented breeze on the first day of early spring.

The first time he ever had the pleasure of meeting you and seeing you smile up at him, eyes bright and honest, he was absolutely helpless against the blush spreading over his cheeks and entire face until even the tips of his ears had turned red. As soon as his best friend Tendou saw the crimson color on his captain’s face, he suddenly sported the biggest smirk Ushijima had ever seen. The stoic volleyball player immediately knew that he was in trouble, in big big trouble. But it was too late - Tendou’s brain was already beginning to come up with a plan to set you two up.

So to Ushijima, it wasn’t the biggest surprise when Tendou began to invite you to all their volleyball matches, and being the sweet and supportive friend that you simply were, you actually tried to attend as often as possible. You cheered for the entire team, even though you were mostly acquainted with Tendou, knowing the others' faces and names, but none of them personally. Ushijima always tried his best during any game, no matter who was watching or not, but Tendou still noticed the way his best friend and team captain was trying maybe just a tad harder whenever you were present during a match. Should the team win while you were there, which was more often than not these days, Tendou literally dragged you with him to join the team for their celebratory dinners afterwards. Somehow you always ended up sitting beside Ushijima, slowly getting used to his stoic and calm presence, and beginning to try and make him smile by cracking an almost ridiculous amount of jokes around him. More often than not, your sarcasm went straight over his head, and once he even inquired if you were going to therapy after you jokingly said you were ready to kill for another of the extremely tasty Onigiri being served that evening. You only realized he himself was joking when you saw the tiny, private smile tugging at his lips. Maybe that was the moment you began falling for him, and you never stopped tumbling since.

After a few weeks of helpless pining, or as he called it “making sure his feelings were sincere”, Ushijima finally decided to ask you on a date. He just didn’t know how; he knew other people considered him blunt to the point of rudeness, and he never wanted you to see him in that way, he didn’t want to scare you off - even though you had never seemed to mind his directness before. Asking Tendou for help was definitely out of the question, because Ushijima knew his best friend literally didn’t know how to keep his mouth shut in times of need, so he’d probably just instantly tell you everything and Ushijima couldn’t have that.

But as fate would have it, he didn’t even need Tendou’s help - because a situation presented itself, so perfect, at least in his eyes, that Ushijima still smiled about it years afterwards. It was the last and therefore most important match of the season, and Shiratorizawa had not only won the first set, but was also currently in the lead for the second one. Only one point and they’d go to the nationals again. Naturally, you were pretty much at the edge of your seat, one closest to the field, all thanks to Tendou shooing away some younger girls before the match had begun and, unknown to you, making sure Ushijima had the perfect view of you cheering him on. You were currently biting your lips until you tasted blood, knees bouncing nervously while your eyes followed the boys on the field, more often than not landing on Ushijima. By now, you probably should have gotten used to him looking way too handsome in the team’s uniform, but even after months of seeing him wear it, your heart still skipped a beat whenever you attended any game. “Please, please, please, come on, boys, you can do it.”, you were muttering under your breath, the girl beside you giving you the side-eye but you just ignored her, heart beating twice as fast while you watched the game. Both teams were fighting for dominance, no one wanting to back down, the atmosphere thick with anticipation and nervousness. And then, it happened - Tendou’s quick eyes followed the ball, asserting which angle to use to best set it for Ushijima, who was already running towards the net for one of his incredible spikes. Rarely if ever could someone withstand the sheer power of his left hand, so no one was completely surprised when, a second later, the ball hit the ground with a loud smacking noise, resounding around the gym. Time seemed to stand still for a few seconds, before happy yells rose all around you and loud music suddenly started blasting from somewhere behind you. You were out of your seat in a split second, running towards where the team was hugging and high fiving each other on the field. “Ushi, that was amazing-”, you stated proudly, almost breathless with happiness, but were unable to complete your sentence because suddenly, there was a pair of strong arms around you, literally sweeping you off your feet and twirling you around once. You yelped, heart fluttering like crazy while you stared up at Ushijima, who had just set you back down on your feet again, the corners of his lips curling upwards into the tiniest of smiles. “Thank you, Y/N. I really appreciate your support.”, he said, deep voice rumbling in his chest, and you swore your knees were about to give out right there and then. You knew he wasn’t just being polite - he was being honest, his words always truthful, and it made your heart swell to know he liked you coming to his games. You had long learned to love his directness. Other people called him blunt, you called him honest, which was something not a lot of people could say about themselves, not in the modern times of Snapchat filters and Snow Apps. Ushijima cocked his head to one side, looking at you for a few seconds, his greenish-brown eyes almost unreadable, before he took in a deep breath. “I would really like to take you out on a date, if that’s something you’d want too.”, he then stated, and you just blinked a few times, before your face split into a huge smile, which made Ushijima’s heart burst and a deep blush creep onto his cheeks. It was the smile that had made him fall for you in the first place, the one he would never ever get used to - even years from now, when he was nothing more than stardust left behind, every single atom that once belonged to his body would still remember your smile, forever branded into the inner core of his soul, he was sure of it. And then you finally answered him, making his heart soar and his chest puff out: “I would love nothing more.”

For your first day date, Ushijima took you to a farm to pick the first strawberries of the season, shyly asking you to call him “Wakatoshi” by the end of the day and blushing madly once you did. You couldn’t help but stand on your tiptoes to press the softest of kisses against his cheek, feeling his slight stubble and hot skin under your lips, suddenly finding yourself blushing as well. When he took your hand, interlacing his strong calloused fingers with your smaller, softer ones, you knew your heart was long lost, forever his. But the soft, pleased smile he gave you, made you hope that maybe you weren’t the only one feeling like that.

That was just the first date of many, many more to come. Soon, everyone was already used to always seeing you two together; the stoic tall volleyball player and his much louder, much smaller girlfriend, an odd pair that somehow still just fit, like two puzzle pieces finally put back together again.

Ushijima quickly grew used to your constant presence in his life, and now, it almost feels like you’re part of him. He loves all your little quirks and antics - that you cling to him every morning, jokingly trying to keep him from going on his daily run and leaving you alone in bed; or how you confidently sing along to every song, drawing soft smiles from his lips whenever you mess up the lyrics and laugh at yourself; or that you like to speak to your plants, your green children as you like to call them, convinced it will make them grow quicker and stronger; or the way your eyes light up whenever he enters the room, reaching for him with one hand and making his heart swell twice its size; or your breathy moans and the quiet yells of his name whenever he touches your soft, flushed body in the darkness of your shared bedroom - honestly, there’s just so much to love about you, he sometimes gets a bit overwhelmed by his own feelings.

Ushijima Wakatoshi still considers himself a stoic and reserved man. But you have managed to melt some of his hardness away, your softness settling over all his angles and edges like sunlight reflecting on a still and deep lake. Yes, he still lives and breathes for volleyball - but now also for you, always and forever you. Yes, he still goes running every morning, still eats three meals a day, still showers twice. But now he runs much later in the day, spending the early hours of the morning with you in his arms, soft and warm body pressed flushed against his hard one, nose buried in your sweet smelling hair. His three meals a day are often prepared together nowadays, you singing loudly along to a song playing on the radio while chopping vegetables, smilingly observing him marinating and grilling the meat, sometimes standing on your tiptoes to press a gentle kiss on his cheek like you did on you first date, oh so many years ago. Even his showers are less lonely - all in the name of saving water and the planet of course, or that’s what you always say whenever you join him, happily spiking up his hair with shampoo while he just looks at you, the corners of his lips curling into one of those private smiles he reserves just for you, making you blush at the way his eyes shine with love and adoration for you, even after years of being together.

Yes, Ushijima Wakatoshi still has his routines, but now he always makes sure to incorporate you into them - and he very much likes it like that.

a/n: this is my first ever haikyuu imagine and also the first scenario on this blog - feedback and reblogs are appreciated, requests are open.

© oioinanami 2021 | masterlist

[rebelwith0utacause]

La Petite Mort

I started writing this a month ago, got stuck on 300 words and thought I might never finish it. Here we are, beginning of June, and it’s finally done, all 3.4K of it.

Warnings: Don’t read it if you’re underage, can’t handle smut and bad writing or if you’re Michael Clifford.

I got the idea listening to A Little Death by The Neighbourhood one day. Go check out the song if you haven’t already. It’s one of my faves.

You can also find it on ao3. Let me know what you think. and please don’t let it flop.

It was supposed to be a quiet affair, a way to get rid of their demons, to let them fly for the night. They were no strangers to it, the taboo and the darker side of their passion meant that they had to hide in the shadows. It was easier in a way, shadows cloaked emotions, making any attraction feel hazy and unsure until it completely vanished in the morning.

Not that you’d ever spent the morning with him. It was a wonder that you’d even met up on multiple occasions. That’s not how the system worked. You were given one chance at a scene, meant to be an outlet, not a dating site. But you fit so well that first time, you knew you had to see him again.

It started out with an occasional DM on Twitter, every couple of months. You would tell him what you needed, what your body and soul craved, he would tell you the location, and the time. You would show up, you would perform, exorcise your demons, go back home, rinse, repeat.

You never meant to get addicted, but there was something in his touch that liberated your soul. You knew it was one-sided, but that didn’t stop you from going back for more.

It was the end of November, an uncharacteristically cold weather had blown into town, the air smelled of snow and you decided that your fingers could use a pair of gloves. You quickened your steps. The neighborhood was neither bad, nor the greatest, but the streetlights were flickering and you started feeling the panic swell in the pit of your belly. The motel was in your sights, a flickering red sign above the main entry showed that there were a few rooms left vacant. 

Entering the lobby finally set your nerves at ease. You’ve entered familiar territory.

There was a middle-aged man tending the front desk, his thinning hair glowing under the neon light. He was flicking through the pages of an old magazine, not paying too much attention to the sound of the bell when you opened the door. Really, he couldn’t even bother to look up. 

“How can I help you?” was uttered under his nose, his eyes never leaving the glossy pictures. “I have a reservation for room number 7.” Your voice cracked at the “have”, not sure if it was the nerves or the lack of use. He swung around in his chair, grabbing the key from its allotted space and placing it on the desk, no “There you go.” no nothing.

Seen as he wasn’t very forthcoming, if you were being 100% honest, he was cold and insanely rude, you just grabbed the key and left the lobby. You pulled the lapels of your jacket a bit closer and hurried to get to your room. You only had half an hour to get ready.

You’ve done these scenes in almost any kind of environment, but the stagnant air and moldy waterpipes in motels had you feeling a certain way. You never claimed to understand why you liked the things that turned you on.

The first thing you had to do was set the scene. You were both lovers of 90’s aesthetics, so the outdated furniture and yellow lighting in the room were perfect. You took off your clothes, making sure to leave your white cotton set on. It was going to get destroyed anyway, so there was no point in wearing fancy underwear - his words, not yours. Come to think of it, it might had something to do with the fact that it made you look almost virginal, and it felt like he was corrupting you time and time again.

Folding your clothes one by one, you set them in your backpack and hid it in the bathroom, leaving your old self behind. You took the bedcovers off the queen-sized bed and the pillows on the nearby chair, you knew he might need them at one point. Hiking your knee on the mattress, you settled in the middle on your back, eyes closed, hands clasped on your tummy, waiting. And you didn’t have to wait for long.

You heard the creak as the door opened, but you didn’t dare open your eyes. It was one of your demands. You didn’t want to know who he was, it was easier that way, you could fantasize about the possibilities of it being anyone on the street. You could hear the soft sounds of his footsteps as he approached your lying form. “Up.” It was a signal for you to lift your head as he wrapped a scarf over your eyes. The bed dipped as his knee came to rest behind you, securing the knot and doing quick work of braiding your hair. At first, it freaked you out, but you soon came to realize that it meant he could do less damage to your scalp when he pulled, and he liked to pull on it quite a lot.

His cold fingers trailed from the bottom of your braid to your sides, making you squirm in your seat. He’d warm them up on your skin soon enough. You could hear and feel his soft exhales in your left ear, followed by the feel of his beard on your neck as he trailed kisses on your skin. 

“Are you ready?” The only answer you dared give him was the tiniest nod. 

Both of his hands moved between your thighs, gripping them and parting your legs as wide as they would go. His left hand found your clothed breast, roughly grabbing a handful and squeezing a moan out of you. The tips of his right hand found their way on top of your cotton panties, middle finger pressing lightly between your slit, dampening the material with your juices.

It was only an interlude, you knew that he was here on a mission to wreck you, but the intimacy of it all prickled at your soul. 

You felt his whole demeanor change, his breath evening out and his muscles flexing against your body. The hand grabbing your tit moved to grab your neck, no pressure yet, he was just using his thumb and index finger to guide you against him. The one petting your pussy moved to bunch up the material of your panties and pull it up, giving you an uncomfortable wedgie but stimulating your clit at the same time. Your only response was a strangled wheeze.

“You like that? Like having strangers feel you up?” He released your neck. “Look at you. A whimpering mess and we haven’t even started yet.” You suddenly felt a light tapping on your clothed clit, increasing in force and intervals, making your head fall back on his shoulder, moaning at the slight pain.

And that’s what you were here for, the pain. You knew that he had loads of it in store for you. He grabbed your braid, maneuvering you around until your head was pressed on the bed and your thighs were spread on both sides of his knee, ass high in the air. Same as before, he bunched the material of your panties and pulled, leaving the globes of your ass bare for his eyes only. His other hand grabbed your right cheek, roughly squeezing it upwards and away, getting a peek of your puckered hole. It disappeared and came back before you could even blink behind the scarf, the resounding thwack of his palm on your ass chasing the chill away. He repeated the same motion a few times until the bottom of your ass was rosy and you were silently begging for more.

There was a ripping sound in the stillness of the room as he roughly pulled your panties. They were left to sit in ruins on your thighs as his middle finger came to inspect your leaking pussy. The whole thing looked so bad but felt so right at the same time. You were nothing but a broken puppet in his hands and you were never sure if he was trying to fix you or fuck you up beyond repair.

The pressure was building in your lower belly, his knee pressing against your bladder and his calloused finger strumming your clit, catching it with his blunt nails time and time again. Just when you thought that you might enter another dimension, his finger disappeared only to be brought back in the form of a hard hit on your pussy.

“Not so fast.”

You were impatient, but that’s not how you won this game. You felt the bed move with him, falling flat on your belly. He, once again, used your braid as a handle to position you right. You were lying like that for a few seconds or a few minutes, you couldn’t tell. The panties were off, the bra was lying somewhere on the floor and your feet were cuffed in metal rings. You recognized the familiar immobility caused by the spreader bar, holding your feet from locking together. He bound your hands in leather and left them to rest on the bed above your head. The bed dipped between your knees as he situated his body behind you, pulling on your hips, grinding your naked ass on his denim-covered crotch. You kept rotating your hips, working yourself up and stretching lazily like a cat. It was almost desperate, the need for contact so great, you would do anything for him. But he had other plans.

“How many times do I have to tell you to stop making a mess? You’re such an infuriating little slut.”

He left you on the bed, tears of frustration slowly gathering behind your eyelids as you waited for any sort of stimulation. You heard the whoosh before you felt the tiny licks of pain on your back. So he decided to use the cat this time, the tiny leather knots deliciously digging in your skin. He was warming you up, knowing you needed to have a bit of pain before you reached nirvana, but ever so careful not to break the skin.

Minutes turned into eternity. Your thoughts had fled your mind. You could only feel the warmth and produce incoherent noises in different pitch. Hit after hit like tiny water droplets before the deluge. Somewhere in that not-here-nor-there space of yours, you didn’t hear the buzzing, or maybe the blood rush to your head drowned the noise. But the tiniest vibration from the wand had you shattering to pieces.

You held your breath, the scream lodged in your throat, saliva dripping on the sheets in front of you, your entire body shaking from the orgasm, your knees barely holding you up. He could only chuckle from the side, knowing that this was only the first of many that night. 

He let you breathe for a while, seeing the curve of your back dip and flatten as you tried to get yourself together was a huge turn on, if the bulge straining against his jeans was anything to go by. The next time he approached, he decided to forego the whip, but kept the wand close by, just in case. He was back between your knees, hands hugging your lower back, bending you even further. His roughened hands traveled the expanse of your reddened back, making sure you still felt the phantom pain from the cat-o-nine tails. His face was in front of you, taking in the scent of your arousal before flattening his tongue on your lips. You felt the vibrations of his moan more than his actual voice, but it was over before it began. 

You heard a click and felt the coldness of the lube between your cheeks. He used his middle finger to spread it on the rim and started applying steady pressure. You’ve done this before so you knew that it was time to relax and push back, allowing entry. He was working you up, slowly opening your hole to fit two of his fingers. After he was satisfied with the progress he made, he took them out and slowly replaced them with a lubed up princess plug. The metal felt heavy inside of you, but not entirely uncomfortable, and if you were being honest with yourself, it made you feel special knowing that there’s a sparkly button attached to your ass. He pulled on it a few times, making sure you were comfortable with it before leaning down and giving the clear zircon a kiss.

The incredibly tender moment was cut short when both of his palms landed hard on your cheeks. He liked seeing the contrast between your fire red flesh and the cool fake crystal handle, so much so, he couldn’t stop playing with your ass, jiggling the metal device with every squeeze.

It never occurred to you that you could cum from such a little amount of stimulation, but you were almost there. You were moaning the motel down and somewhere in that sex haze of yours you thought you might have heard a thump or two from the neighboring wall, but you couldn’t care less. Not when the wand was back on your clit, and definitely not when you felt his fingers curl up inside of you. He wasn’t being extremely gentle either. He knew you thrived on the overstimulation, pressing the pads of his fingers on your g-spot harshly, almost feeling mechanical. He was a conductor and he knew how to orchestrate your body, your moans and screams the most beautiful symphony. You thought that you would end with a dramatic crescendo, but the music sheet had a few more pages left.

His fingers left you, the wand went down at the same time as his zipper. He didn’t bother to push his pants down, just opened them enough to pull his, very hard and very ready, dick out. You heard the crinkle of the condom packet being ripped and felt the latex on you. He was rubbing his cock between your cheeks, gathering as much of your juices and lube on him before he entered you. The novelty never wore off. It didn’t matter what he did to you beforehand, it was always a tight fit, the stretch bordering pain and pleasure. 

You felt full at last, the double penetration making you mewl like a cat in heat, the moan slowly rising up in volume until you did nothing but scream. Each time he moved his hips against yours sounded like thunder in your ears, the plug going deeper and deeper inside you. You tried to hold off as much as possible, but it was a losing battle.

One extremely forceful push had you collapsing on the bed, blissed out. He was chasing after his own orgasm, covering your body with his. The only indication that he was a tall man was the fact that when he laid like this, his chin would almost reach the top of your head. But you didn’t mind the weight, in fact, it almost made you feel protected. 

The bed dipped to your left, he must’ve put his hand in front of you for leverage because his other was busy shoving three fingers in your mouth. You had your eyes closed, making sure you produced enough spit to lube his digits so you didn’t notice the moment the scarf shifted, freeing a tiny sliver for your eyes to see. He took those fingers, bringing his hand to your already wrecked pussy, finding purpose in playing with your clit. The sensation was too much, revving you up one last time. One final push had you coming hard, milking his cock for every last drop, vision going black, and the sight of a familiar finger tattoo making your heart painfully clench.

--------

It was New Year’s Eve and you were on a mission. The Christmas lights were on, the finger food was on the table and the guests were about to arrive. There was no dress code, you just told them to dress comfortably. It was a small event, you didn’t have many friends to begin with, courtesy of always working, but you did have a growing circle of people who loved video games as much as you.

You were slowly becoming a tight-knit family, getting together for game nights and the occasional drinks, and you liked it, you didn’t need more interaction. You were, however, extremely happy when one of your gamer buddies gave you a bit of his attention. Where you were generally talkative and friendly, he was your polar opposite, deciding to stay in his shy shell until he felt comfortable enough to speak. You knew he had a good soul, you just never knew what to expect from him. The only time his real self decided to come out was when he was in the middle of a game.

But you did in fact know a little bit more about him than you were letting off. He was in your apartment now, scanning the place for an empty corner to hide in. You couldn’t help but admire him, a tiny ball of lust wound tight in your lower belly. He looked so good in a pair of light blue jeans and a white tee, covered by a red plaid shirt. The tattoos peeking beneath his rolled-up shirt sleeves and the whole grungy look were such a contrast to his shy self, it almost made you laugh, that is, until you realized that you might have cum a few times from rubbing yourself sore on the coarse denim of his jeans.

The advantage of playing host was that you always had an excuse to go up to people and strike up a conversation. You let him relax for a bit, though. Cornering him right off the bat might do more harm. But you were done playing this game of cat and mouse, where the cat was in fact a kitty and the mouse was a Pit Bull in disguise and you wanted to know what was his endgame.

You found him in the kitchen by himself, licking some pizza sauce from his fingers. “Oh, hey Michael, didn’t expect to see you here. Too crowded?” You pointed behind you at the party, eyes zoned in on his Adam’s apple moving as he gulped. He looked a bit startled but he wasn’t cowering like you expected him to. “Yeah, you know me, not much of a team player.” You knew that wasn’t the full truth because whenever he tried to hide something, he would try to fix his already perfectly styled bleached fringe. 

There were layers to his personality, and he was never game to show them all at once, but you were willing to unravel him. You were thankful for once that your kitchen was tiny so it only took you a couple steps to reach his side. Before you could chicken out, you grabbed his left hand and brought it up for inspection. He tried to pull it away, but you were having none of that. “You know Mikey, I never really asked you what this tattoo’s about, and I’ve been meaning to for a while now.” He still looked uncomfortable, but the way your thumb kept rubbing over the circle and three dots engraved on his middle finger was making his eyes dilate. “You like it?” His tone was no longer shy, and you could finally understand why you never put two and two together. Turned on Michael was speaking in a low, almost gravelly voice, completely unrecognizable from his usual higher-pitched tones. And now he knew you knew. And there was no escaping it.

“I liked it better when it was disappearing into my pussy.” You whispered, looking up at him through your lashes. You knew you were trying to act tough, but the moment he wound his fingers in your hair and pulled, you knew that you’d always be putty in his hands. “Don’t forget your place, pet.” he breathed out. “You don’t get to top from the bottom. I could easily bend you over the table in front of all of our friends and have your ass red if I wanted to.” And you knew that he would. He detangled himself from you, leaving you turned on and confused in the middle of the kitchen. 

The party was dying down. There were a few stragglers left, their silhouettes hazy in your vodka-Sprite-induced vision. A new year has begun and for once you dared yourself to make a wish. Little did you know that once everyone left, a certain 90’s enthusiast would make all of your wishes come true, and then some, only this time you could look into his green eyes while you died a little death.

[mosylufanfic]

Closing Time

Happy Killervibe week, y’all! This first story is for the Coffee Shop theme.

Closing Time

Cisco shut the door behind the last wifi hound, locked it, and raised both fists in the air. "And we're done!"

Done for the night, done for the pay period, done forever. In two days, he'd be starting his grad program at the university and a TA-ship with it, and he'd never have to make another latte unless it was for himself.

"Not quite," his manager said. "We've still got to finish the closing."

"But done with customers," he said, coming around the counter. He started to clean the espresso machine, singing, "No more frothers, no more cards, no more Karens' dirty looks -" He paused. "Huh, you got anything that rhymes?"

Caitlin, already pulling the drawer, rolled her eyes at him and turned to go into the office where she would count the money and deposit it in the safe. Also her last time. 

Cisco hit the button for the cleaning cycle, shut off the canned Jitters-approved music on the overhead speakers, and pulled out his phone. "Requests?" he called into the office.

"You pick!" she called back, as she always did.

He decided it was an old-school cheesy hair band kind of night and put on Aerosmith as he started emptying the dishwasher, stacking all the cups and plates up for the next morning. 

He liked closing with Caitlin, because she always had them do all the little tasks and chores way before closing. He knew some of the other baristas bitched and moaned, saying there was plenty of time to take out the trash or do the pastry inventory after they were closed and she was just cracking the whip because she could. But Caitlin always got them out on time and also never left anything undone for the openers if she could help it. 

Also, it didn't hurt that he was kind of head-over-heels in love with her.

" - jonesin' on love, yeah, I got the disease," he sang as he wiped down the table where the last wifi user had been sitting, dropping crumbs into his keyboard until the bitter end. "Falling in love is so hard on the kneeeeeees -"

She was pretty and smart - she was going to med school! How hot was that? - and kind of funny, once you got her talking. In his year behind the counter, every single one of his favorite shifts had been with her. He'd even agreed to work closing on Saturday nights because that was her closing night, and nobody else ever wanted that shift so it was always just them hanging out as he cracked jokes and told stories and made up alternate lyrics to the music on the loudspeaker and generally acted like a third-grader trying to get the attention of his first crush.

Not that she'd ever reciprocated. Oh, she was friendly enough, in her reserved way. But though she would banter with him if there was nobody in the store, she'd never flirted back or texted outside of work, even when he would shoot her a what's-up every now and then to test the waters. She'd never even given him the look when they were alone and the store was locked up and he'd just made her laugh, and . . . 

Clearly he was a fellow Jitters employee and nothing more. 

He sighed, tossing the cloth into the laundry bag. It was probably good they were both leaving. Unrequited love was probably great for radio hits, but terrible for his self-confidence. Maybe he'd get lucky and lock eyes with a hot fellow TA during orientation, and if he ever ran into Caitlin around campus, he could smile and catch up without that tinge of longing pressing on his chest.

He checked the bathrooms, just in case that one last "no, I'll be five minutes, I really need the bathroom" guy had left a horrible present behind. 

Luckily, they were spick and span. Caitlin had cleaned them a couple of hours ago, so he could probably eat off the floors. He narrowed his eyes at the toilet paper holders and opened one. "For Chrissakes," he muttered.

Caitlin was rolling coins when he knocked on the door jamb. "Hey, Charmin' Hal hit us again," he said. "I need the keys."

She looked up. "What? When did he get in?" She handed him the key to the supply closet.

"Maybe when we had that drive-thru rush around nine? He got all three spare rolls." 

She shook her head. "What does he use them for?"

Cisco shrugged. "We don't have to care in -" He checked his phone. "About thirteen minutes."

By the time he'd replaced all the spare rolls, Caitlin was signing the deposit slip. "We good?" he asked.

"Just about. I have to lock up the safe.  Can you grab the pastry cart?"

"On it." He tossed her the keys to the supply closet, and she caught them. "Wooo!" he cheered. "A stellar catch from Snow on third!"

She smiled in a way that made his stomach all warm, but turned away and started gathering up all the stuff to go in the safe. He grabbed the cart and wheeled it out front to start filling the ruthlessly cleaned pastry case so it would be ready for the openers.

After a few moments, the safe thumped closed, the light in the office switched off, and she came out to help him with the last pastries. When they'd filled the case, she handed him a roll of bills, his share of the tip jar. "Oh, and this. It came on the truck today."

It was an envelope with something stiff and plastic inside. He ripped it open and found a gold Jitters membership card. "What's this? Some kind of comment on how much free coffee I drank in my tenure here?"

She smiled. "Every Jitters team member that leaves on good terms gets a lifetime membership in the loyalty program." She nodded at the card. "You were here for more than a year so you get gold."

And fifteen percent off Jitters drinks and food. "Nice!" Discounted caffeine was not to be sneezed at, especially in the program he was going into. "What'd you get? Titanium? Diamond-encrusted?"

"Managers get platinum," she admitted.

"For the kind of crap you put up with, you should get free Jitters for life, not just twenty percent off," he said. He'd personally seen her smack down entitled Karens, kick out jerks creeping on baristas, and call the cops on a dude who was flashing people in the drive-thru.

She shrugged. "It's still a good deal." She reached out and hit the lights, so the lobby went dim and quiet. 

More than once, he'd wondered what she would do if he leaned over and kissed her in the soft after-close darkness. The thought came up again. Why not? Last chance, right? She was so close he could smell the hazelnut syrup she'd spilled on her apron earlier. What if he just - 

But her silhouette had already turned and started walking to the back, and her voice floated to him. "Come on, let's clock out."

He cleared his throat. "Right. Yeah. Let's do that."

He'd cleaned out his tiny locker earlier, so all he had to do was whip off the apron and toss it in the laundry bag. Caitlin's landed on top of it, and she picked up her purse and the bag of things from her own locker.

"Have you got everything?" she asked. "I signed my key back to Tina earlier, so I wouldn't be able to get us back in."

He patted his pockets. Wallet, keys, phone. "Got it all," he said, grabbing the bag of stuff from his locker.

He clocked out, approved his time card, and then stepped back to let her do the same. The staff door shut behind them with a heavy, final thunk, the lock clicking. 

"End of an era," he said. "The Cisco and Caitlin closing show is no more."

"Yep," she murmured.

They stood in the tiny parking lot, the lights spilling down to form a pool around them, keeping the darkness back. On the other side of the building, traffic rushed by.

He stuffed his hands in his pockets, suddenly awkward. "So, uh. This . . . this was cool. I liked working with you."

"Me too."

"Good luck with med school and all that. Maybe I'll, um, I'll see you around campus."

"Probably not," she said. "The med school is on the other end of campus from the engineering building."

He looked at his shoes. "Yeah, I guess it is."

"So maybe we should arrange to meet up sometime," she said.

It took a moment for the words to percolate, and then he blinked at her. "To - "

"Meet up," she said again. "For, um, for coffee or something."

Hang on, was this like a post-employment thing? Meet up with your manager afterward? To what, like, talk about work stuff? She was aware that they worked (had worked, past tense) at Jitters, not a Fortune 500 company, right? 

"Sure," he said slowly. 

She put her hands behind her back. "Only if you want. I know you'll be busy."

Something pinged in his brain. Maybe it was that bashful motion, maybe it was the angle of her chin as she looked away. Maybe it was the trace of a blush across her cheeks. 

He held up a hand. "Are you asking me out on a date?"

Her eyes went big, and her cheeks went pinker. She bit her lower lip. 

"Oh my god," he said in wonderment. "You are. You're asking me out."

She looked utterly crestfallen for a split second, then rallied. "Okay, I can see I might have misinterpreted certain -"

He almost yelled, "I didn't say no!"

They both goggled at each other for a moment.

"What are you saying then?"

"I - yeah, absolutely, yes, let's -" Hook up? Date? Have a torrid love affair? Get married and have a succession of fat happy babies? Yes please, all of the above. "Let's do that. But - you - you knew I liked you?"

"You were kind of flirty," she said. 

"But you never - You acted like you weren't even the tiniest bit interested!"

"Cisco, I was your manager up to three minutes ago! That's like the definition of sexual harassment!"

"Not if I'm cool with it!"

"Okay, but if we'd started dating a year ago, every time I made a schedule, people would have said I was giving you more hours or better shifts or not making you do the icky jobs, even if it wasn't true. You know they would've."

"A year ago," he said. "You've had the hots for me for a year?"

She primmed up her mouth. "As you well know, you're very cute."

He felt his grin spread all across his face. "Damn right I am. I'm such sizzlin' hot stuff that you couldn't wait three minutes after you were officially no longer my manager to hit on me."

She went pink to her hairline. "I - I just - it seemed like a good -"

He almost collapsed into laughter. God, why had he never taken that into account? All his pining and longing and yearning, and he'd never once considered how conscientious Caitlin was. Of course she wouldn't have acted like the other manager, Ralph, who was nice enough but went through the cute new baristas like a hot knife through butter. And yeah, people did say that about whatever newbie he was swapping spit with.

When Cisco had chortled himself into silence, she stood shaking her head. But not in a "I changed my mind, you're a complete goober, no fat happy babies for us." More like, "I knew what I was getting into and I still think you're cute, God help me." She had a little smile on her face.

He wheezed out a breath. "So," he said. "We're doing this?"

She nodded, and her smile widened. "Sounds like."

"Just one request, okay?"

"What's that?"

He reached out and took her hand. It slipped into his shyly, but she didn't pull away. He said, "Let's do Slurpees and mini-golf, or hit the pizza buffet, or something. Just, anything but coffee." 

FINIS

[derryhawkins]

it starts getting cold out and richie rocks up wearing mike's blue sweater from st season 2 and eddie can't form a sentence for at least 15 minutes

i stared at this for a solid 3 seconds bc i was like “mike??? hanlon?????? in st???” before i realized,, i’m dumb i’m sorry sfjk but i made this into a little one shot/drabble thing idk what to call it, but hope this is ok (also it’s like…midnight…so like this might be shit)

Gay Panic

It’s the end of November. It’s just barely above freezing. It’s windy as all shit. The forecast for the up coming week is snow, snow, and more fucking snow. Yet somehow the group of seven came up the bright idea of spending their free Tuesday afternoon outside. If one considers their underground clubhouse outside which, for your information, Eddie abso-fucking-lutely does, and that’s the exact reason the sixteen year old is in a few warm layers of clothes with a warm winter hat with thing strings, gloves, winter boots, and a blanket wrapped around his shoulders because he refuses to get sick. Because, then his mother will be on his case and might possibly not let him outside the rest of the fall and winter months, and he can’t have that. The others, of course, are dressed similarly but not to the degree of Eddie.

There’s Bill, with a sweatshirt under a jacket and a pair of fuzzy socks on his hands because he lost his gloves the other day. Beverly, her slightly grown out hair put into the braids to keep her ears warm, a cute beanie on her head. Ben, with warm gloves he’s now lacking because he gave them to Beverly when her hands got cold a few hours earlier. Stan, dressed like Eddie but somehow looks neater and way more put together even though the other boy looks pretty put together, too. Mike, with his own winter hat and earmuff and gloves, and he wears a comfortable looking sweater that all the losers would steal if given the chance. 

Then there’s Richie. Eddie shouldn’t really care, but he does, because for once Richie’s wearing normal autumn and winter clothes instead of just a loose jacket over either a Hawaiian shirt or a long sleeve tee that does absolutely nothing against the cold weather. On this rare of occasion of Richie actually listening to his friends and parents about wearing something that’s actually warm, he’s wearing a sweater. And it’s something that isn’t that rare around Christmas time when he pulls out the ugliest sweaters that makes everyone groan and moan and complain - he got one a couple years ago that said, “ask your mom if i’m real,” with a winking Santa Claus just to wear it around Eddie - but this isn’t just an ugly Christmas sweater. 

Well, it is, Eddie thinks, but not entirely ugly because it suits Richie. It fits him perfectly. It looks good. It looks pretty. Richie Trashmouth Tozier looks pretty, of all things, and that’s why Eddie is sitting in the hammock with a comic book, brown eyes wide and glued on his long time crush as he obnoxiously greets the others after entering the clubhouse. Eddie wants to speak up, to say something like, “Nice fugly sweater you got there,” but he can’t because that’s a lie.

It’s a nice sweater! On an attractive boy! A boy Eddie has a crush on! And, sure. Yeah. Paired with the glasses, Richie also looks like a big fucking nerd. But a cute one. A cute nerd Eddie suddenly wants to kiss so bad that his grip on the comic book is crinkling the pages. And maybe he’s staring too intently or whatever, or something, because Ben is speaking up a few feet away.

“You okay, Eddie?” Ben asks, head tilted to the side the littlest bit.

All the teen can do is smile and nod because that stupid fucking sweater has some kind of effect on him where he can’t form words.

Ben’s brows knit together. “Alright. You just look tense, I was worried for a sec.”

Eddie opens his mouth to say something like, “I’m fine, don’t worry, just scared of getting sick because of my mom,” but nothing comes out so he clamps his mouth shut, gives Ben another closed mouth smile, and lays down in the hammock, ready to get back to reading the comic as the others talk above the low holiday music. 

Not even two seconds later Richie is crawling into the hammock and making himself at home beside Eddie. This shouldn’t be a problem - it never it, they’ve shared it plenty of times before - but it is somehow, Eddie’s vision moves from the comic he clearly isn’t reading and to the stupid fucking sweater, and somehow it’s all prettier up close - blues and tans and whites and maybe there’s a little green in there but it’s mostly just blue - meaning Richie is prettier up close - freckles are more noticeable and his brown eyes look deeper and the curls just really add to the look. Eddie’s mouth goes dry but there’s spit building up at the same time, and he’s pretty sure his shoulders are permanently tensed up by now because he can’t relax with his crush looking like that literally right beside him.

“Eds! Don’t you look fuckin’ cozy over here in, what, seven layers?” Richie teases, cheeks a bit pink because of the cold weather, and then he tugs at one of the strings of the hat Eddie’s wearing.

Eddie can only stare. He leans his head back a little to get a better look at Richie as he tries to get words to go from his brain to his mouth, but all he can think is, You look good. Kiss me, please fucking kiss me, can I kiss you? And, well, Eddie doesn’t want to ruin their friendship yet so he stays quiet.

Richie smirks. “Cat got your tongue? I know, I know, I have that effect on people,” he says. Then, he pinches Eddie’s cheeks, expecting the other teen to swat his hand away so when he doesn’t, Richie frowns. “Dude, really, you good?”

He lifts his shoulders and leans back against the flimsy side of the hammock. “Uh…” Eddie licks his lips, some weird sound of ‘yeah’ and ‘no’ morphed together that none of the others can understand.

Richie’s now concerned, and he leans closer to Eddie, which only makes Eddie try to back up more. “Eds, seriously, are you-?”

The weight of them leaning on more than one side than in the middle causes the hammock to flip, in turn causing them to flip. Meaning, they tumbled into a heap of lanky limbs on the wooden floor of the clubhouse, gaining everyone’s attention, and Eddie seriously wants to curse whatever gods are out there for having Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas start to play the exact moment his vision focuses above him only to see Richie’s face inches away from his own.

And if Eddie had any remaining control of his mouth he certainly has none now, because before he knew it - before Richie knew it, before the losers knew it - Eddie is planting one right on Richie for the tiniest second before scrambling out from under the taller teen and jumping to his feet, face beet red. 

“I’m gon- uh. I- you guys want… Did- wait. I- fuck. Hot chocolate!” 

Then, Eddie’s dashing out of the clubhouse, leaving behind a too stunned Richie and jaw dropped losers.

[demented-dukey]

Hey u remember that cursed Folgers commercial

The clock chimes one, two, three times, but Roman barely registers it. He’s curled up under a white blanket in the bay window of the Xanders family home, forehead resting against the cool glass as he watches the snow, falling softly down. It would almost be pretty, if he didn’t hate it with every fiber of his being. This stupid blizzard delayed Remus’s flight not once, not twice, but three times, so late that their parents had given up and called it a night, leaving Roman to his lonesome vigil.

His breath fogs up the glass, and idly, he drags the edge of his finger to through it, drawing a devious smile and a can of spray paint and a far-off boarding school and letters sent back and forth – the story of how Remus was sent far away at only thirteen. It’s been five years, and Roman can’t help but spare an idle thought to how his brother has changed – if the baby fat on his cheeks has fled or the structure of his body grown stronger – before he shakes the thought off. He’s used to that. Used to shaking off thoughts about how his brother may have changed, shaking off memories of wrestling on the carpet for the TV remote, shaking off wonderings as he takes himself in hand if Remus would feel any different.

But Remus never seems to leave his mind for long.

A cab trundles to a stop outside, and Roman brightens, tensing to run downstairs and fling open the door, but he slumps in disappointment when he sees the man who gets out.

Remus isn’t punk. He isn’t gorgeous. He doesn’t have a green leather jacket or hair streaked with white or chunky boots that follow the delicious curve of his calves. And, more importantly, Roman decides as the man effortlessly hauls a massive duffel bag out of the boot, Remus isn’t fucking jacked.

But then the man Roman has been eyeing turns down their path, goes up to their door, and knocks – once, twice, three times – on their door, and Roman’s stomach can’t decide if it’s fluttering or sinking.

He bolts downstairs and flings the door open.

Remus is even more different up close. He has a mustache and acne spanning the bridge of his nose like freckles and he’s so gorgeous it hurts.

Roman can see the moment his brother’s eyes widen, the moment he registers just how much things have changed since middle school.

“I must have the wrong house,” Remus muses in that strange, high voice of his. “Because I thought I was the only hot piece of ass that lived in this place.”

“We’re twins, you idiot,” Roman says, and it comes out far, far too fond.

“So I’ve been told,” Remus says, and saunters into the house, hips swaying, like it hasn’t been an hour since he left.

Roman is frozen, clutching the door frame, until a blast of icy air jerks him back into animation.

“Coffee,” Remus moans, making a beeline for the freshly brewed pot as soon as he steps foot in the kitchen. “Did you know that a woman spilled McDonalds coffee over her, and it was so hot, that it sealed the folds of her vagina?”

Roman hops up on the counter, eyes dragging over the places Remus has filled out – the width of his shoulders, the curve of his legs, the flexing of his forearms as he shrugs off his far too thin jacket. “I think you’ve told me that one,” he says absently.

Remus makes a small grunt of acknowledgement, pouring half the pot into an over-sized mug and chugging most of it in one go.

“Classy,” Roman teases as Remus wipes his mouth with his sleeve.

Remus just laughs. “We can’t all be Prince Charming.”

He certainly isn’t. Remus is loud, crude, impulsive, hyper, vulgar – anything but charming.

Why, then, can Roman not resist him, even after all this time?

“I brought you something,” Remus declares, fishing around in his rumpled duffle bag and pulling out a small box, crudely yet carefully wrapped.

Roman gasps in appreciation, gently taking it in his hands. He admires it for a moment, but finds his gaze drifting to his twin - so strange, so handsome. His heart twists, and he rips the bow off the box, firmly sticking it to Remus’s acid-green shirt.

Remus tilts his head inquisitively, and Roman shrugs, a shy smile lifting the corners of his mouth. “You’re my present this year.”

Remus flashes his lecherous, teasing grin. “Are you going to unwrap me, then?”

They don’t teach you how to lie at boarding school. That’s the only explanation Roman can fabricate, because, suddenly, Roman can see it behind Remus’s eyes – the softest, slightest glimmer of hope.

Slowly, Roman slides off the counter. He can feel the heat of Remus, like a physical touch in the frigid December air. So slowly, so gently, like this moment can shatter at any moment like one of those ridiculous ceramic pieces their mother collects, Roman settles his hands on his brother’s hips, slides the edges of his fingertips beneath Remus’s waistband.

His fingers must be cold because Remus shudders, full-body, but he presses just the tiniest bit closer.

“Okay,” Roman breathes.

Remus’s eyes threaten tears. “Okay?” He echos, as if he can scarcely believe it, as if everything he ever wanted was just presented to him with a bow on top.

But, no. That’s what’s happening to Roman.

“Okay,” Roman says again, and kisses him.

It’s simple, chaste – But Roman still feels it in every part of him, tasting like black coffee and feeling like stardust running through his blood.

Remus is trembling when they pull back. “Do you know how long I’ve been waiting for that?”

Roman presses their foreheads together. “Almost as long as I have.”

“I tried to forget you,” Remus confesses, voice raw. “I got myself sent away and tried. God, I tried, but it wasn’t… I tried to be good, but there’s no one else like you.”

Roman just kisses him again. “I don’t want to be good, if that means I can’t be by your side.”

Remus surges forward at that, pressing forward until Roman’s back hits the counter, and Remus effortlessly scoops him up, wraps his brother’s legs around his waist so their hips are flush against each other.

He pauses then, green eyes darting towards the stairwell, where their parents sleep at the top.

“It’s late.” Gently, Roman tilts his head away. “We have time.”

Time until their parents come downstairs, time until Remus is shipped back off for his last semester in a place far away, time until they have to hide this delicate, blossoming thing.

But time can wait.

Now, Remus lays his brother out under the soft glow of Christmas lights. Now, there are wandering hands and soft gasps and muffled giggles. Now, there are confessions murmured between kisses.

Now, there is love.

Tots meant to submit on Christmas since I wrote it in like an hour that morning but tumblr ate it fml

(Above submitted by Squidward)

~~~

First off, deepest apologies for hoarding this in my inbox for so long. 💚 Also, “cursed” Folgers commercial? I think you mean “blessed” Folgers commercial. (which can be seen here, for anyone unfamiliar with it)

This was wonderful and exciting - I love Punk!Remus and Roman’s blatant appreciation of how his twin as matured.

> Remus flashes his lecherous, teasing grin. “Are you going to unwrap me, then?”

*squeals and claps excitedly*

>Now, Remus lays his brother out under the soft glow of Christmas lights. Now, there are wandering hands and soft gasps and muffled giggles. Now, there are confessions murmured between kisses.

>Now, there is love.

*whimpers* Oof, dude. Right in the feels. This was so, so soft and good. Thank you. ~ DD

[kurowrites]

Snow - Chapter 10

Entire fic. AO3.

Uh... I would like to file a formal apology to everyone involved?

---

By the time Wei Ying arrives at Lan Zhan’s house, he’s a huge, anxious mess.

When Lan Zhan asked Wei Ying to join him and his brother for brunch on Saturday a few days ago, he agreed lightly, thinking that it would be fun. Well, he thought mostly about the delicious food Lan Zhan was certain to serve, and how interesting it would be to meet someone that has seen Lan Zhan grow up.

On Friday evening, he suddenly remembered that he is Lan Zhan’s sugar baby, and that Lan Zhan’s brother probably doesn’t know about that little detail. How is Lan Zhan even going to introduce him? He’s not going to want to tell his brother that… well. That. But then Lan Qiren seems to know about their relationship? He’s been going back and forth ever since, and has failed to arrive at any good conclusion.

Still, it’s far too late to cancel now. Lan Zhan wants him there, wants him to come and meet his brother, so it’s really not Wei Ying that needs to be worried about confessing the exact nature of their relationship to Lan Zhan’s family. And he’s charming, Wei Ying tells himself. He’s charming and he can simply pretend to be a good friend of Lan Zhan’s and there will be nothing strange about it at all. They will have a good time, and Wei Ying will go home, and it will be fine.

Steading himself, he knocks at the door of the old house, and almost immediately, Lan Zhan opens the door and smiles at Wei Ying.

The smile, more than anything, takes him aback. Lan Zhan never smiles at him like that.

Wei Ying has also never seen him wear steel blue.

He hesitates for what’s probably far too long, not sure what he’s supposed to say.

“Xiongzhang,” comes a disapproving voice behind Lan Zhan, and – that’s Lan Zhan’s voice.

Smiling Lan Zhan steps aside to make room for disapproving Lan Zhan, and yes, that’s the Lan Zhan that he knows.

“Lan Zhan!” Wei Ying exclaims happily.

“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan replies, and Wei Ying basks a little in the warmth of Lan Zhan saying his name. He looks good today, too, wearing a light grey sweater with – yes, that’s a small white rabbit where usually the shirt pocket would sit.

Lan Zhan turns towards his copy, no doubt his elder brother, and frowns at him. “Do not play tricks on Wei Ying.”

Lan Zhan’s brother laughs and apologises. “Sorry, sorry. I was just curious. But Wei Ying realised immediately that I’m not you.”

Lan Zhan looks the tiniest bit mollified, and turns back to Wei Ying.

“Wei Ying, this is my older brother, Lan Huan.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Lan Huan,” Wei Ying says in his best attempt at good manners. Still, he can’t help but be curious. “You two do look remarkably alike. How many years are you apart?”

“Two,” Lan Huan answers easily. “It’s nice to meet you too, Wei Ying. I’ve heard a lot about you and have been looking forward to meeting you.”

Wei Ying laughs a little nervously. “You’ll have a terrible impression of me by now, then.”

If he knows about the fight between Lan Zhan and Lan Qiren, his impression must be worse than terrible, no doubt. He’s known Lan Zhan for what, three weeks? And has already caused strife in the family.

“Not at all,” Lan Zhan assures him as he smiles again. “Lan Zhan might not be much of a talker, but he says enough for me to understand the rest.”

Wei Ying tries not to blush. Was that a subtle hint that Lan Huan knows that Lan Zhan is Wei Ying’s sugar daddy? Somehow, the thought is extremely embarrassing. He doesn’t know about Lan Zhan, but Wei Ying would probably die if his sister found out he’s having kinky sex with a rich man for material favours.

He doesn’t have the same inhibition with Jiang Cheng though. Jiang Cheng can get traumatized for all he cares. He’d probably rub it under A-Cheng’s nose, if he got the chance.

“Lan Zhan is rather taciturn, no?” he says loudly, patting Lan Zhan’s arm. “He never says anything, but when I talk too much, he always goes–” he imitates Lan Zhan’s “You are being stupid” face that’s just slightly left of his “I am being stubborn and refuse to listen” face, “though I’m immune to it now. It was rather funny though when he pulled that face on a rude server in a restaurant two days ago. He was like–”

He breaks off suddenly, realising that he’s talking too much, and that Lan Huan might not appreciate being regaled with a story about a homophobic server that told them to take their gay asses out the door and leave. That comment had not gone down well with Lan Zhan. But Wei Ying isn’t sure about Lan Huan’s stance towards homosexuality. His uncle seems to be aware that Lan Zhan likes men, and Lan Zhan did say that Lan Huan is supportive, but…

“Ah, the server at the seafood restaurant?” Lan Huan asks, and there’s a look of something in his eyes. “That has been taken care of.”

Wei Ying looks at Lan Zhan, a little confused, but Lan Zhan doesn’t explain. He simply puts his hand on the small of Wei Ying’s back, pushes him through the door and inside the house, takes off his jacket and scarf, and then marches him to the dining table, Lan Huan following them.

The table is already laden with food, and Lan Zhan goes into the kitchen to pick up some bamboo baskets that have just finished steaming. It’s a veritable feast. Wei Ying has no idea how three people are supposed to eat all this food. They might need three days to finish it all.

“Please, have a seat,” Lan Huan tells him, and Wei Ying sits down opposite Lan Huan.

“Do you also cook, or is this all Lan Zhan’s doing?” he asks as he surveys the food.

Lan Zhan brings in several baskets of xiaolongbao, probably because Wei Ying went a little wild for them the last time they had Dim Sum, but the selection of foods on the table is eclectic this time. There are pancakes. And fresh strawberries. Everything smells and looks delicious, and Wei Ying has no idea where she should even start. He wants to stuff everything into his mouth at the same time.

“I do,” Lan Huan chuckles. “But I wouldn’t go as far as saying that I’m better or more enthusiastic than A-Zhan.”

“He’s a very good cook, isn’t he,” Wei Ying says proudly. “Honestly, I have no idea what I’ve been doing before I met him. I’m addicted to his cooking now. I will probably starve to death when he stops feeding me.”

“Wei Ying should also learn how to cook,” Lan Zhan says primly as he finishes arranging the bamboo baskets on the table and takes a seat next to Wei Ying.

Wei Ying laughs. “Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan. What words! You’ve eaten my congee. You know I shouldn’t be left anywhere near a spice rack at any cost.”

Lan Huan looks between the two of them and raises his eyebrows.

“Eat,” Lan Zhan prompts.

“Don’t try to change the topic, Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying laughs again. Still, he’s quick to secure the best xiaolongbao for himself. After a moment of hesitation, he decides to also put one of them on Lan Zhan’s plate. Lan Zhan deserves good things, after all. “You kept your face carefully neutral, but don’t think I didn’t see you sweating.”

“It was not so bad,” Lan Zhan insists, taking the dumpling Wei YIng has given him, eating it carefully so the broth won’t drip all over the place.

“So you’re saying you’d eat it again?”

“Hn,” Lan Zhan agrees.

Wei Ying looks at Lan Huan with a mischievous smile. “Your brother is very courageous. He’s not afraid of a brush with death.”

“It can’t be that bad,” Lan Huan assures him. It’s very nice of him, but he’s never eaten Wei Ying’s cooking and doesn’t know what he’s talking about.

“Well, I like it,” Wei Ying says. “But my brother refuses to even touch a bowl of food I’ve made. And even my sister, who’s an angel otherwise, gets that look in her eyes when she finds me in the kitchen. She’s also an excellent cook, her pork rib and lotus soup is divine.”

Lan Zhan’s xiaolongbao are a hot contender for one of the top three spots in the ranking of Wei Ying’s favourite foods, though. They’re orgasmic. He can barely keep himself from moaning as he eats three of them in quick succession.

“These are also divine,” he says with conviction. “I’m positive you’ve laced them with some kind of drug. I’m definitely addicted to them. I wouldn’t be sad if these were the only food I was allowed to eat until the end of my life.”

“Indeed,” Lan Huan agrees with a smile at Lan Zhan. “They are very good.”

“Hn,” Lan Zhan says, as if such an amazing achievement is somehow normal and not at all something to be proud of.

“Don’t dismiss my compliments like that, Lan Zhan!” Wei Ying exclaims, poking Lan Zhan in his cheek. Lan Zhan levels a flat look at him. “You should be a little proud of your skills!”

“Lan Zhan has always been very humble,” Lan Huan agrees. “Despite his many achievements.”

“I know!” Wei Ying enthusiastically agrees. “I don’t understand how he’s always so… Lan Zhan. If I were him, I’d be the biggest brat ever.”

“He wouldn’t be A-Zhan then, would be?” Lan Huan asks.

“No,” Wei Ying agrees, smiling at Lan Zhan. “No, he wouldn’t.”

Lan Zhan seems to be rather uncomfortable with the fact that all the attention of the table is currently focused on him, and ignores both of them in favour of elegantly picking out his food and eating it. But Wei Ying is happy. Lan Zhan’s brother evidently loves Lan Zhan very much, and Wei Ying couldn’t agree more. There isn’t a single unlovable quality about Lan Zhan. It’s good to see that he and Lan Huan are on the same page here.

They eat in silence for a short while, but before long, Lan Huan speaks up again.

“So, tell me a little bit about yourself, Wei Ying?” he asks. “You’re not from here, am I right?”

There it is, Wei Ying’s least favourite topic. Lan Zhan has never asked him about his past, which is really nice of him, but of course Lan Huan wants to know exactly what kind of critter his little brother is associating with.

“I grew up in Hubei Province,” he says succinctly. “Not too far away from Wuhan. Managed to get a nice full scholarship for my studies and came here.”

“You were not born in Hubei?” Lan Huan asks, and it’s exactly the topic Wei Ying wanted to avoid.

“No,” he says distantly. “I was born in Beijing, but lived in many different places… before my real parents died. I only moved to Hubei when the Jiang family adopted me.”

“So you’ve also lived in Suzhou before?” Lan Huan asks conversationally, but Wei Ying isn’t insensible of the probing gaze that Lan Huan has trained on him.

“Xiongzhang,” Lan Zhan says sharply.

“Forgive me,” Lan Huan replies mildly. “I was simply curious.”

Wei Ying is sure that Lan Huan means no actual harm by his questioning, but it also provokes him. What right does anyone have to dig in his past? He’s lived through it, it’s the past, he doesn’t want to dig out the skeletons in his closet. Everyone and their dog loves reminding him that he’s not worth shit because his parents had the impudence to die and leave behind an uppity little brat with a mouth too big for his body.

“I’ve lived in Suzhou before, yes,” he says coldly. “And, as I’m sure you can find out if you dig through my documentation, you will also find that my parents died in Suzhou, that I was brought to an orphanage in Suzhou, that I fled said orphanage after a few weeks and lived on the streets of Suzhou for a while. Until I was adopted, to be exact. Is that enough information now, or do you have any other questions?”

Lan Huan, to his credit, remains entirely calm in the face of Wei Ying’s anger and incivility.

“Just one,” he says. “How come that a family in Hubei ended up adopting you when you were living on the streets of Suzhou, 800 kilometres away?”

“I don’t know, and honestly, I don’t care,” Wei Ying hisses. “Jiang Fengmian was an old friend of my parents and had been looking for me, apparently. How he found me, I don’t know. But I was desperate enough at the time to have gone home with anyone.”

Lan Zhan suddenly pushes back his chair, almost toppling it over. He stands up and strides out of the room without uttering a single word.

“Lan Zhan?” Wei Ying calls after him, surprised at the suddenness of his actions.

“A-Zhan!” Lan Huan exclaims at the same time. And then, a little more sharply, “Wangji!”

Something in Wei Ying freezes, cold as ice.

“Wangji?” he asks, his voice faint.

Lan Huan looks at Wei Ying, his expression a little surprised. “Yes, Lan Wangji. His art name. We use them when we perform. Please excuse me.”

Lan Huan gets up from the table as well, and vanishes out of the room.

Wei Ying sits there for a moment, frozen. Alone. The delicious food in front of him forgotten.

Wangji.

Lan Wangji.

There is a strange, buzzing sound echoing in his ears. He tries to stand up, tries to follow Lan Zhan to wherever he’s gone, but his legs won’t carry him. His knees buckle under his weight. He grasps for the edge of the table, but his fingers slide over the glossy wood, unable to latch on.

His last thought is that he’s going to fall face first onto the floor, and that it’s going to hurt.

  Wangji.

  “Wangji! Wangji, wait for me! Hey! Wangji!”

[yugyummygot7reactions]

Only Fangirl for Me

Pair: You x JB Genre: Smut Word Count: 2836

Hella 18+ So under the line

JB was mad.

As he drove home, the deafening silence of his annoyance filled the car. Avoiding it, you looked anywhere but at him. Trying to gauge just how much of his anger was true and how much was his angry daddy persona, you glanced sideways. His hands were gripping the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles were as white as snow. Your gaze lifted to his carefully styled dark hair, and smooth, strong jawline. “He's even sexier when he's actually angry.” You thought to yourself as you once again looked away and prepared your thought for what was to come when you finally got home. The thought of the night ahead sent a shiver of nervous fear running up your back even as you felt your core warm with anticipation. JB often spanked you as part of some fun bedroom play, but somehow, when you were being spanked as a punishment, it was even more enthralling. The memory of your last real punishment made your clit tingle in anticipation, and you tried to subtly cross your legs, hoping he wouldn't notice. He did. When you arrived home, he pulled you inside, grabbing your purse out of the car for you and heading inside without a word. Once you were inside and about to take off your ridiculously high heels, JB commanded you in a firm voice, "You know your position. Get there. NOW!" You moved to slipped off your shoes and JB reached out and stopped you. “I said get to your position. NOW!” You quickly climbed onto the bed, bent over on your elbows and knees and waited. The air seemed suddenly cool and you shivered as your heard him taking off his suit and sliding drawers open to get supplies for the night. There were a few things you had learned about where JB keeps everything. Drawers meant the vibrator, which meant pleasure along with the pain. Which also meant he wasn’t as mad as you initially thought. The realization of that turned your shiver from one sparked from the cold air of the apartment to one of burning desire. “You behaved very poorly tonight," JB said as he moved into position behind you, taking a moment to admire the curve of you back and you pussy peeking from between your spread legs. He shook his head, amazed as always. Of course, you had no underwear on under that dress. Why would you? “Now, what was the worst of your poor behavior tonight?” he asked, pulling your head back by your hair, “Speak.” “I don’t know Daddy.” You said in a snotty voice. This was all part of the fun. You knew exactly what you did that set him off the most.

The instant you had arrived at the party, he saw every head turn to stare at you, with your eye-catching wardrobe and flashy hair and makeup, it was obvious that you were the star of the room even when you were one of the only non-idols in attendance. You were usually really calm around the stars of the k-pop world. After all, you spent a ton of time at parties like these with your idol boyfriend, but tonight someone else caught your eye. Your ultimate bias was there, fresh out of his military service…. G-Dragon. You spent most of the night distracted, looking in his direction trying to catch his eye. You just wanted a simple conversation with him. After hours of politely talking to all of JB’s contacts at the party, he excused himself to the restroom and asked you to wait for him by the champagne tower. This fundraiser was no joke. While by yourself, G-Dragon took the time to approach you and start a conversation. Your tried to remain cool, but this was the man you looked up to for years and had the biggest lady boner for. You couldn’t help but fangirl…a little…the tiniest bit… barely at all… It was during that miniscule moment of fangirling (that barely even happened) that JB came back from the bathroom and almost lost it then and there. He was usually a bit jealous of other men. He had been burned bad by a cheating girlfriend before, but his reaction this time was too much. His neck and ears turned bright red as he politely introduced himself to his industry sunbae and then excused both of you with the excuse that there was an emergency back home and you needed to leave. G-Dragon asked for your contact information, but before you could answer him, JB pulled you out of the event and practically threw you into the front seat of the car.

"What is your safe word?" He asked as you smirked, thinking about how you riled him up earlier. “Youngjae, Daddy." “What did you say?" he asked, the anger seething in his voice as he rolled your dress up, revealing your already mostly exposed ass. Your voice shivered as you drawled out, "Youngjae…Daddy…” JB's cock hardened at your enunciation of Daddy. “Why you insist on using his name as a safe word I will never understand.” He growled as the first spank hit your ass hard. “Do you remember the initial number of spanks I will give to you should you act so undisciplined during a social event?" “Twenty spanks, Sir.” He brought his hand down firmly on your ass again. He smacked you over and over again, watching with pleasure as the cheeks of your ass turned from their normal color to an ever-darkening purpleish-red. He knew that each movement was making you wetter and that when he finally entered you, you would be perfectly ready for him. As each blow struck, you could feel the tingling need in your cunt gro. The spanks hurt more each time he hit, but the anticipation was even more uncomfortable. You knew there was more to come from all of his fidgeting with the drawers earlier. Each strike brought you closer to wanting him inside of you, filling you up. After the twenty strikes, he slowed down and began to caress you tingling ass. The change from pain to pleasure was sudden, and you moaned with the joy of it. He lingered, fingers gently tracing the outline of the red marks on you, moving in gradual swoops from the outside of the cheeks in and down to your labia, then back out. After a moment, he stopped. His hands left you, leaving you striving for more. You heard a quiet buzzing and realized what was to come. The vibrator was on, and he held it just a hair's-width from you skin. You arched you ass and pushed back with your cunt trying desperately to touch the vibrating toy. He pulled it away, teasing you, and you groaned in disappointment at its absence. When you had returned to your former position, ass in the air without arching, he carefully brought the vibrator to the lips of you pussy and barely touched them. It was exactly what you wanted. JB held the vibrator still, watching as you rubbed yourself as far up and down the shaft as you could. You tried desperately to position yourself so that it would slip into your vagina and satisfy you, but he pulled it gently away so that you had to satisfy yourself with the vibrations along your outer lips. You moaned in arousal and frustration, coming closer to an orgasm, knowing that you would never reach it this way but not wanting it to stop. You felt a slight change of position as he transferred the vibrator to his left hand and wriggled in anticipation as you realized that this meant a continuation of your spanking. His right hand came down firmly and steadily as his left hand held the vibrator against you pussy. Each hit pushed you into the vibrator, and you felt its tingle combine with the pain of the spanking. You rocked forward each time he hit you, and back again when his hand swung away. The spanking sped up, and you rocked faster and faster. More as an accident than anything else, you hit on the angle that allowed the head of the vibrator to slip into you pussy. You cry was low and guttural as you felt yourself start to let go. He held the vibrator so that the head remained inside of you as you moved, watching with pleasure as your juices dripped down the toy and onto his hand. Anticipating your orgasm, he quickly pulled the vibrator out of you, relishing your moan of despair. If there was any time to ensure that you remembered you lesson, this was it. “Do you remember what you did tonight that would have caused this punishment?" Gasping, you slowly tried to pull you mind away from the sensations of pleasure, pain, and sudden emptiness that were coursing through your body. "I. . . I made a fool of myself." “Be specific.” “I… I embarrassed you in front of your industry colleagues by fangirling over Jiyong." "Good. And how do you feel about that?" “I'm sorry, Master JB." You said, desperately trying to hang on to your arousal and trying not to groan in disappointment as it fled. The blasted bastard just loved it when you called him that.   “Have you learned your lesson?" JB asked carefully, bringing the vibrator back to within an inch of your clitoris. You felt its nearness, and said what you needed to in order to get it back inside of you: "Yes." “Good, then play with this while I finish your punishment." He held the vibrator between your legs, and you reached back and grabbed it with one hand, bringing your shoulders down to the bed for balance. Hungrily, you shoved the vibrator into your vagina, loving every inch of it as it moved inside of you. JB steadied himself, and resumed your spanking, bringing down his hand on your ass slowly and deliberately, timing each blow to coincide with you thrust into the vibrator. Soon, with the vibrator deep inside of you, you felt yourself nearing the edge of cumming. Each hit brought warmth and tingling pain to your ass while the vibrator filled you, You rolled your hips, basking in the sensations in your ass and pussy, and soon began to buck violently. You held the vibrator still and fucked it as hard as you could. He increased the force of his spanks so that the pain rose as your pleasure did. Finally, you cried out as your orgasm started to wave over you. JB moved your hand as release was really about to hit and made you let go of the vibrator and turn to him, noticing for the first time how hot and hard he was. His cock glistened with pre-cum, and his body with sweat and arousal. You gracefully stood up, and climbed on top of him, straddling his cock. You playfully ground against him, first rubbing your clit against the length of his penis, mimicking the movement of the vibrator earlier. Then, gently pushing yourself on top of him so that only the tip of his head was inside of you. You wriggled laughing as he groaned and reached for you. In barely a heartbeat, you found your face and chest pushed into a pillow to the left of his body with his left hand pressing down on you back, and your ass balanced on his thighs. His right hand slammed into your ass, far harder than it ever had before. You cried out in shock and pain, thinking that your punishment was over. He rained down slaps hitting quickly but deliberately so that he covered every inch of your bare bottom with red welts from his fingers and palm. Over and over again, his hand fell, and each hit was hard enough to be a punishment in itself. It took a second for you to get over you surprise. Each time his hand rained down on your bottom, you first felt the shock of the hit, then the warmth spreading out from the center of the strike and unfolding into a burning heat. Just as the heat began to unfurl, his hand came down again and the heat would blend with the pain of that spanking and then it would double as he spanked you again and again. “You thought we were done?” he growled hungrily, “I know your apology wasn’t sincere.” "Please. . .I'm sorry, Master JB. I've learned my lesson." You yelped "No, you haven't." He said simply. He spoke calmly and logically, his once brutal hand gently caressing your sensitive butt. “You better be fucking thankful that I'm not tying you up in silk, baby. It just so happens that I'm being very patient right now, but the next time you pull this shit again – it's a whole week full of dildos for you and none of mine raw. Now, you wouldn't like that, would you?" “No, I wouldn't." You shook you head, trying to suppress you guilt. He grabbed a fistful of your hair and pulled at it, causing you head to snap up and for you to stare at his daring, electric eyes. The sensation of the pull was delicious and painful at the same time, causing you to moan. "You like it when I pull your hair like this, don't you?" You could only reply with a whimpered nod. You struggled desperately, but to no avail. He held you down like you was merely a doll and continued, his strong arm rising again and again. As you wriggled on his lap, you felt the pain and warmth joined by a new sensation-lust pooled at you groin, and with each brush of your clitoris against his thighs you got wetter. Soon the combination of the pleasure and the pain grew as you rocked yourself against him. The pain was still intense, but now it served to enhance you pleasure. When the slapping ceased, you felt his fingers stroke the lips of you sex teasingly. And when he slipped two fingers into you, your body wracked violently. He plunged his fingers further, hitting your sweet spot after the first five strokes. That's how well he knew you pussy – how knowledgeable he was that it was his and his alone to fuck and worship. His services continued, and when another finger slipped in – you practically lost control as your moans filled the room. "May I please cum, Daddy?" “No." He spat at you harshly as he quickened the pace of his fingers. "Don't you fucking cum until I say so." He warned you, though his voice was a mixture of strong and sweet. "Fuck! Please, Daddy. Oh god yes. I-I promise. I won't cum. I'll do anything you want. Just don't stop. Please. Anything!" “Cum for me." He whispered violently against you ear, and you screamed as you allowed you orgasm to take over. To be resisted the pleasure of cumming was a high somehow far too difficult to come down from. But once you came down from you high, you felt his cock hard against you, and knew you had to have it inside of you. Risking his anger again, you raised you head and moved to a sitting position. He didn't react, so you climbed astride him, and continued to writhe and moan. You ground your hips against his hardened cock. One look at you above him, long hair drenched with sweat, and he felt himself letting go. Tired from the night, he relaxed and let you make the effort. You thrust yourself on him, rocking forward and back, oblivious to everything but the pleasure and pain, trying desperately to please the one who gave both in such abundance. As you moved, your breasts bounced up and down, and he buried his face in them as he sat up, loving the feel of the soft skin on his cheek and your nipple in his mouth. He kissed and bit harshly against the flesh of you neck, and the louder your moans resounded – the faster he moved his cock up into you until he was pushing into you at an inhumane speed. You dug you own nails against his taut muscles, dragging some across his back violently as he had held onto your ass and you. "JB, I'm close!" The thrusts grew heavier, faster and needier as you collided your hips in a rhythm so connecting – it nearly left you both breathless. He took your mouth in his, savoring you taste and fighting for the dominance he so desired to give you. With one final thrust he came deep inside of you and pushed you over your edge. He pulled out and covered you both up and snaked his hand around your waist. “Don’t ever fucking do that again.” He grumbled as he kissed your neck and slid into a deep slumber. “Don’t worry Daddy…” you mumbled as you began to drift of yourself, “I will.”

[anathtsurugi]

Day 15 - One More Day ;)

So, my dear @jellysharkbat, I’d at first thought to present you with a scene from the new chapter of TCTW, but the scene I had in mind was a little too dialogue heavy, even if it was in the same vein. So you’ll get more of that when the chapter comes out. But hopefully this is enough in line with what you were feeling.

Snow, as far as Alexsandr Kallus was concerned, could go get kriffed.

Granted, it was in the middle of a snow storm he'd first begun to see the love of his life and he would be eternally grateful for that, but it was likely the only thing he ever would grant to snow. Anything other than that one instance was evil incarnate. And that was saying something coming from a man who'd once worked at the very heart of the Galactic Empire.

The day had begun like any other at Echo Base. The techs still couldn't seem to adapt their speeders to Hoth's extreme cold, so patrols were still being carried out on tauntauns. Really, a lot of their tech was having trouble on this world. Even his own double-layer thermal gear was barely managing to keep out the cold. The persistent subzero temperatures had been creeping in on him all week and the conditions had been making his bad leg crankier than usual which, in turn, made him even crankier than his typical  uptight self, and he knew it showed.

Say what you will about Yavin IV. At least heat is manageable.

Draven had been on his case about the new supply line he'd been endeavoring to open up from an old Imperial contact who was just about fed up with Coruscant's precious New Order. It was a delicate process, though, so he was rather starting to wish the general would just take his less than subtle grumbling elsewhere. More than petty matters with Davitz Draven, there was also the fact that Cassian hadn't yet reported in from his latest assignment and Jyn and Bodhi were visibly beginning to worry, asking him if he'd heard anything. And he could understand their worry. Of course he could, but having to let down Cassian's odd little family every time one of them asked after the young Fulcrum agent was also beginning to wear on him. Today it seemed it was Bodhi's turn to receive the bad news as they passed through one of the supply corridors that connected the hangar bays with the storage areas.

"And there's really no emergency channels you might use?" the pilot pressed him as they walked.

"Believe me, Rook, I've tried all of them. At this point, it's up to Cassian himself," he responded with an exasperated sigh. "I promise you, I worry just as much as the rest of you. Cassian is my friend, too. But he wouldn't be a Fulcrum agent if he couldn't handle situations like this one. We just- have to trust him."

And as always, whenever he had to disappoint Bodhi Rook, Kallus felt as though he'd kicked the proverbial puppy at the silently despairing look in his fellow defector's large brown eyes. One just couldn't disappoint Bodhi Rook and walk away unscathed. It wasn't physically possible. And on top of that, his leg was really starting to twinge, causing him to bite down on a wince.

The day was barely half over and already he would've been quite happy to have done with it.

What else can go wrong?

He regretted thinking it almost the minute the poisonous thought had slithered through his brain. No situation is ever so bad it can't be kriffed up even further; and that fact was proven almost immediately by an ominous-sounding crack from overhead.

"What the-" Bodhi's voice started as they both looked overhead, but Kallus spotted the problem right away. A crack had indeed appeared in the ceiling over their heads, and already it was splintering and spidering outward from its initial break.

Kallus didn't stop to ask questions. The moment chunks of ice began to tumble into the corridor, he seized Bodhi's shoulder and threw them both free of the collapse.

The ex-Imperial felt his leg shriek in agony as they hit the permafrost floor of the tunnel, chips of broken ice flying overhead as a full section of the ceiling came down. Once debris had ceased spilling into the corridor, he began to hear voices from the next level up.

"Stars, what the kriff-"

"What happened?"

"What's-"

"Is everyone all right down there?"

Forcing himself up onto his knees through the pain, Kallus looked up, calling back. "We're fine! Just the two of us down below. Anyone above injured?"

"No," came the mostly even voice of General Rieekan in response. Oh, kriff. The command center.

"Though it might not be long before you're not all right," the just as distinct voice of Draven followed only a moment after. Within seconds, the head of Rebel Intelligence's pinched face appeared over the  edge of the hole in the ceiling. "Why is it I always seem to find an ex-Imperial around whenever something goes wrong?"

Kallus full-on glowered up at the man overhead. Partly to hide his own grimace of pain, but also because he really was just that pissed at this point.

"Yes, because obviously we plan for these things to happen," he snapped.

"I would be remiss in putting it past you. Fully trained ISB operative that your are, Agent ISB-021," the man taunted in a pointed voice.

That did it.

The frustration and physical pain that had been chipping away at his composure all week broke through his strict mental control. If he'd had his bo-rifle on him, he might've actually drawn it.

"Kriffing arrogant nerfherder!" he snarled up at the general. "If you think for one second I would ever endanger anyone in this base, then you've-"

"Kallus," Rieekan's now stern voice interrupted his imminent tirade as he joined Draven at the edge of the collapsed section. "I think it might be better if you took a walk. I know you said you weren't hurt, but you and Rook should probably take extra rest shifts, just to be certain."

"General, I-"

Whatever he might've said was quickly silenced by the Alderaanian's firm gaze. He scowled before going to help Bodhi up. Though he couldn't deny being the tiniest bit pleased to catch the tail end of Rieekan's next order.

"You and I will be having words later, Davitz. You can't keep going on like this."

"Th- thank you," Bodhi stuttered out. "You definitely saved my neck back there."

"No trouble," Kallus returned, though he didn't look at the younger man, as he knew he couldn't manage a smile just then. "I'm quite certain it would be more than just Draven angry with me if I allowed harm to come to you. About half the Alliance, likely...not to mention Cassian and Skywalker," he said before starting to head in the direction of his quarters, leaning heavily against the wall as he moved.

"Do you maybe need help?" Bodhi called after him.

"No," he ground out, even though he knew he was limping. He was on trajectory now and couldn't stop. If he did, his anger would dissipate and that, in turn, would allow the pain he was currently keeping at bay to overwhelm him. He kept his eyes forward and his teeth gritted the whole way back to his and Zeb's quarters.

He barely managed to make it to the bed before collapsing, body now racked with pain and mind swirling with frustration, anger, and more than a little guilt.

Agent ISB-021...

Most of the Alliance no longer held his past against him, but Draven was one who couldn't seem to let it go. He never missed an opportunity to remind Kallus of who he had been...of what he had done...

You are not that person anymore.

Maybe not...but that doesn't mean it didn't happen.

He had no idea how long he lay there, stewing in all that ugliness, before he heard the door to their quarters slide open. He looked over to see Zeb standing in the entryway.

"Rook told me what happened," he said without preamble as he entered, the door sliding shut behind him. "You okay?"

"As can be expected," he answered, though he couldn't quite keep back the tiny whimper of pain as he dragged himself into a sitting position. "Just the leg."

"You take anything?"

Kallus shook his head, rubbing faintly at his leg. "No. I wouldn't want to waste it. This will pass."

Zeb exhaled in frustration, and though Kallus wasn't looking at him, he could easily picture the way he would roll his luminous eyes. Before long, though, he found a slender thermal container thrust before his face.

"What...what's this?" he asked as he took the container.

"Little something Hera and I put together this morning from the Ghost's stores. Some of that spiced tea you loved so much. I was makin' it for you anyway, since the cold's been seepin' in on you all week, but now seemed like a good time to bring it to you."

Wordlessly, Kallus twisted the vessel open, inhaling the divine scent of the black tea in mild disbelief. It was no small thing...to be able to make something like this with the limited supplies they had. He may have moaned a little as he took the first sip of the warm, frothy drink.

They didn't speak after that. After all, Kallus was reasonably certain Zeb would've got the whole story from Bodhi. The Lasat sat down beside him on the small bed, large, skilled fingers beginning to work at the improperly healed joint, soothing away some of the ever-present stiffness and pain and bringing the hurts from the day's misadventures down from an insistent snarl to a dull ache. More than the massage, it was really just nice to have Zeb's sure, strong hands on him.

Not wanting to drink all of the tea right away, he sealed the thermal up when it was about half-empty and set it aside. Then Zeb drew him into a kiss, a slow, luxuriating press of lips that didn't presage anything further, simply connected the pair of them in that moment.

I'm here. I'm here for you. People can be as stupid as they like, but they can't take this away from us. I'll always be right here.

The kiss turned into a cuddle without much effort on their part. Almost before Kallus was aware of it, they were curled up together on their little bed, Zeb cradling him easily against the broad plane of his chest. Alex curled up tightly against him, languishing in the feel of his lover's arms around him, warm and strong, safe and caring. So much he had never expected to have in his life – never expected to be worthy of – all vested within one amazing person.

They would have to return to their tasks eventually. There was always more work to be done. But for now, just for now, they would accept the quiet gift of simply being with one another. When it came right down to it, that gift was all they really had in the face of a vicious galaxy.

But it was also all they needed.

[kerriescreativecorner]

slow punishment

today I give  you slow punishment  a nice  Mitsuhide smut piece this sooo NSFW and 18 or over content it also has soft doming undertones so if that is not your cup of tea then don't read  this is my first run at  doing a piece like this I do hope you in joy and  also thank you to the ladies in IKesen FB chant room i’m in you all kind twisted my arm in to this story

Soft silent footsteps moved over wooden panel walkways. It was a wonder how even with his brisk strides Mitsuhide was able to make no sound at all as he moved along. He emerged from the outer hallway to the back walks that lead to his manner and overlooked his expensive and vast inner courtyard garden.

Amber eyes caught hold of her sitting in his garden on a wooden bench. A stretch of silk in one hand and needle and thread in the other. He took a long sharp ragged breath only he could hear, his eyes danced over her drinking in the sheer sight of her.

She was dressed in a lovely rich dark purple kimono.  It was hand painted with a plum blossom design in colors that completed the hue and shade of purple. Just the tiny tiniest bit peeked out from her Uchikake jacket as she worked on a swatch of silk.

Mitsuhide bit his bottom lip as thoughts of the princess ran wild throw this mind. He had not forgotten about that encounter.

 What was it now three months past from that night? A night he still had not forgotten in that span of time, no matter how hard he and tried to forget it.

Just with that thought alone his passion and desire for her spring to life. It shot right to throw him to his very core, like a bolt of lighting in a violent storm.

How could he have even though he could look at her and not think about that night? It was the seven hells themselves every time he laid eyes on her. Even now all he wanted to do was go to her, take her by the hand without a word and drag her off to his room and relive that night.

Thank the gods it was a cold crisps day that hand seen a light dusting of snow that morning. The chill in the air was enough to keep his temperature from rising with lustful thoughts but other things not so much.

Softly he cursed himself and his prick for betraying him and his feelings for the princess. He had up in tell this day been able to keep his distances from her,  relying on his trusted household staff to chases her out of his garden, which by now hand becomes a daily occurrence over the chorus of the last three months.

The princess every so lightly felt his eyes on her. she knew he was there at her back and to the left just a little. Ever so coyly she turned her head and looked from the corner of her eye and saw him.

She never missed a stitch as she worked on the swath of silk. Over the last three months, she had learned how to be subtle and coy wan watching Mitsuhide. She bet even now he had not yet picked up on her watching him or the fact she knew he was there.

She hand let her eye Leininger just a second too long in her sly glance at him. That's what drew his attention to her more, she knew he was there and he now knew she had been watching him.

Mitsuhide broke in that realization that she had been in fact watching him. Without thinking it through fully his feet were propelling forward to her. And by the time he approached her he knew what he would ask her. A hurried breath than a question.   

“Why do you insist on not listening to my staff princess “ came his snake-like purr at her left ear.

“Every day for the last three months you have been told this garden is off limits to you “  he went on as his face slithering into her view with every word he spoke.

She had a sly smile on her lips that would rival the one he was so fond of waring

“Because I find it peaceful here “  was all the words she offered her face a blank slate.

but her eyes oh her eyes were traitors to her and he knew how to read them so well now. He tucked  what her eyes had told him into his mind and planned on using, that  is if  this encounter would so happen to go that fair    

His sly smile twisted into that dazzling smirk of malice as she spoke.

“So you keep trespassing just for that, “  he asked before going on “ you know I could jail you for that “  there was that making taunt to his tone.

Without missing a beat she quipped back at him “then do it Mitsuhide” there was only a beat of his heart before she went on “if you wish to lock me up then do so “.

Her eyes looked up to his face meeting his amber hues. She was challenging him to follow through with his testing taunt of jailing her. Yet he saw mixed in her eyes a lustful wanting desire.

That look in her eyes was threatening to full undo his resolve and this angered him. His left hand snaked out to cup her cheek and pull her face closer to his. Her cheek was cold as ice while his hand was as warm as fire in comparison. Or at least that how it felt to him.  

He leaned down to peer into her eyes in his most menacing manner.

“Be careful what you wish for Princess “ came husky words filed with malice.

“How would you know what I wish for “ she spat out at him.

That deceivingly coy smile on her lips growing wider and further chipping more chunks out of his resolve

In a velvety purr just at her lips, he stated “I can see it in your eyes “

The hand on her cheek split to the back of her head. His fingers trailed over her jaw as they slithered along before curling there the way into her  hair at the nape of her neck. With a firm yank, he pulled her head back and claimed her lips.

Whatever she was going to say died as soon as his lips took hers in a hungry commanding kiss. Ahww and she except that kiss her lips parting ever so slightly  Her breath hitch and it was like magic to him as he forcefully kissed her. His tongue snaked its way into her mouth coxing hers to join him in an erotic twisting dance.  

He drank from her full lips in tell he had to brake for air. Both him and she were panting for breath when Mitsuhide looks down at her. The prince's eyes were smothering with desire and need for him. Oh, this frayed that last thread that was holding him to gather. Without a word, he pulled her to her feet his hand in her hair the only guide for her.

“I'm placing you under arrest Princess “ he croaked out his voice thick and husky

By the time his words registered in her brain Mitsuhide was furiously pulling her along down the outer corridor. For what might be the first time in a long time his footfalls raining out his every step. A maid looked out from the section of his manner set aside for his office and private bedchamber. Without haste, Mitsuhide barked out to her orders that all staff and guard were to clear the space around his private room and office as if he was questing a prisoner.

The pore maid was wide-eyed with shock at who Mitsuhide hand in toe with him. Yet she still gave a bow of her head and complied with orders. She rushed the house staff outright as he pushed the princess into the room. The maid knew what was to come next to the soft blush on her cheeks said as much.

“ close the  Door on your way out “ he demanded of the maid, who once more did what was asked without a word or complaint.  just a bit of color to her cheeks as she closed

the door.

The princess looked up at him a disheveled messed on his floor. Her Uchikake jacket sprawled open to reveal her Kimono. The bun that adorned her head starting to topple down some of the pins holding it in place scattered on the floor around her. Oh but her eyes, her eyes were burning with that dark forbidden lust he knew she had.

“Take off your Uchikake “ he commanded

“No” she spat back at him her chin raising in an all to defiant manner.

His pulse quickened with her defiance and all too soon he was moving to her.

He grabbed her hard his hands ripping the Uchikake from her form. He threw the garment to a corner of the room before lacing his fingers back in her hair.

He jerked her head up, all but one lone hairpin feel free of her hair and that bunn toppled down. Her lush thick hair tumbling down her back to her waist. Like a cascade of the jet black night, it swallowed up his hand and his arm right up to that crook of the elbow he relished in forcing her to look up at him as he spoke.

”When I tell you to do something do it Princess “  he growled demand at her

Her lips drew to gather and puckered in a hottie defiant manner. She was looking more sultry and needy now. Her soft blue eyes where a light with the flame of desire, the cloudy storms of lust and passion that washed like a wave throw her cerulean blues a light a long-dormant fire with him.

“Defy me and find out just how cruel I can be “  he dared her no,  no he pushed her to be more defiant and willful just for the sheer thrill of it.  

Mitsuhide other hand reached out and traced the curve of her full ample chest through her Kimono. His roaming hand and fingers lazily working there way up to trace along what was exposed of her collarbone. This act gland him a soft almost quite hitching of her breath.

His eyes burned with his smoldering desire for her as he watched her react to his touch. He crept his hand painstakingly slow to slip into the folds of her kimono.

“ last time tell me, Princess, why is it you come to my garden every day “  came the long drawn out words each one spoken with the creeping of his hand.

An admiringly thoughtful look graced the fine features of his face as he waited for her response. His smoking  Amber eyes never leaving her as he drank in how her body reacted to his touch and words.  

 The words that came were breathy and nothing more than a hushed whisper

“I already told you Mitsuhide “ her breath caught in her throat and she stifled a moan as

Mitsuhide’s hand wandered down under her kimono to expose her left breast.  which he let his palm glide over with a touch that was feather light on her little perky nipple.  He watches her face contort in bliss at the ever so light touch of palm.

“And I know you're lying “  his hand in her hair griped just a bit harder as he tugged on the raven locks, forcing her neck to arch at a delightful angle.

He painfully removed his hand from her round full breast. Hot glowing amber eyes watch her face as he did this and that lustful malicious smile came dancing across his lips.

“Fuck you Mitsuhide “ she spat out as her right hand came up and slapped him hard on his left cheek.

“I'm not going to tell you what you want to hear “ came the last of her words as her hand slipped from his cheek

It was a wicked dark chuckle that bubbled up from him. His eyes were averted from her face now she had slapped him that hard. The sound of the slap still ring in his ears and he had a light copper taste in his mouth. And HO by the gods this was hell for him. he wanted nothing more than to take her right then and there. But now he was going to take his time with her, make her pay for reminding him of what she looked like in the throws of his commanding lustful passion every damn day for the last 3 months.

He leaned in by her left ear and hissed in a deep yet husky  alluring way

“Oh for shame Princess. I thought you would tell me once more  how you feel about me “

His breath was a hot wave as it washed over her ear and neck and this drew a shiver from her. Her back arched shamefully letting him know he had just further aroused her.

It was a half gasp of words that came from her luscious full lips “Don’t  toy with me or my feeling’s   Mitsuhide”

the last of her words broke in a tremble of voice her lips quivering. Tears formed and threatened to spill from her eyes.  

At that moment right there Mitsuhide damned himself all over again. He knew he had pushed his game of teasing and taunting her too far. He dips his showy white head to her neck and nipped and nuzzled at it and between each he said

“ for  every truth, you tell me I’ll reward you and tell you a truth in return “

He could feel her body shiver with delight as he nipped softly than suckled and kissed her neck.

so it was on breathy breaking words her soft alluring voice came to him “I'm in your garden every day because I love you  “ with her words he found the spot on her neck he knew would give her her tiniest of climaxes. He bit softly down on that sweet spot of hers in praise and reward for her truth give to him.   

And oh her reaction to it was a blessed fan to his fire hot desire for her. Amber eyes drank in every reaction her body made and Oh the sounds she made were music to his ears. That loud breathy gasping followed by soft moaning. The way her back arched and she pressed her neck into his bite, Or the way he watched throw lashes of white how her eyes rolled to the back of her head, Or how her lids became hooded and shaded with lust.

It was with a sinful lust filed tone came to his words

“I’m a  fool for the last three months “  once more he bit her neck in that sweet spot that made the princess cry out in bliss “ I'm a fool for telling you to forget it ever happened “.

The hand in her hair uncurled and slip from her dark locks. With slow Delbert brushed of his fingertips he mapped down her back all the way to the dip and curve of the small of it. His fingers curled and dug into her waist. With dominating force he pulled her body to him letting her every curve molded to his lean well-corded muscle chest.  

His tongue lapped in the most exquisite feather-light manner up her neck, over her jawline before claiming her lips in a passionately commanding yet tender kiss. The princess practically quivered as he held her to him both his hands working to undo her Oib sash and it’s cording binding it. All the while he claimed her lips and his tongue darted from his mouth to here's then back.   

Once he felt the silk of her Oib give way, he unbound it from her waist and let it slip from his fingers on to the floor. Then ever so gently he leaned her back on the tatami floor his knees resting on either side of her hips. He straddled her looking down on her and once more drinking in the sight of how undone she was becoming. He sought her mouth and hungrily kissed the princess Breathless.    

Then and only then did he pull from the princesses now kiss-swollen lips. As he gazed down at her with eyes a fire with passion and lust he watched her gasping her hips bucking light under him as he caught his own breath. Aww, that soft panting and gasping both her and he were doing only played to fan his burning need for her even hotter.

Mitsuhide dawned they sly smile of his while his left hand trailed down her right arm leisurely sliding off the fabric of her Kimono. He revealed her shoulder then her upper arm before he gathered some of the fabric in his hand and pulled every so painstakingly slow. Oh, he watches as the silk rippled and glided over her smooth skin.  the way it caught and tugged at her hard perk nipple and oh that gasp that escaped her lips. He heads to bit his own bottom lip so that he would not rush this. He repeated this on her left arm watching her and delighting in the wash of  things that played over her face and danced in her eyes

It seemed like hours he sat there his eyes caressing her body’s every swell dip and curve that now lay in his sights. He watched her hold her breath then let it out in a longing moan when he cupped one of her lovely rounded mounds. Mitsuhide softly kneaded her full breast slowly coaxing more lustful cries from her. And now he thought was a good time to ask his next question

“how did you know I was there be bind you princess “ he rolled her nipple between his thumb and forefinger as he spoke

A hitch of breath followed by a soft whimper of words “i .. I col ..could mhaww feel you your eyes on me “ she almost could not get the words out as he rolled her nipple and pulled on it in the most sinfully yummy way.

Watching her come undone at his touch and her sweet whimper of words delight him. Aww at this point he could just ravish her right then and there.  but no, oh no he was going to take his dame sweet time with her. Even if it meant he would go up in flames with her. His steely resolve crumbled to nothing but ashes. He knew from this point on wan every he lay eyes on her he would want to go up in flames with her all over again.

Her hips twisted and bucked under him of their own accord her need that great her own body was now betraying her. Mitsuhide took grat plusher in this betrayal of her body. He savored the bucking and rolling her hips under him.   

“Aww princess you know I caught you looking at me, “ he said by her ear as he leans over his left hand reaching for the cord of her Obi. He gave her one more truth in letting her know he knew she had been watching him in the garden.

Once his left hand found the Obi cored Mitsuhide dragged it teasingly over her breasts. He guided the cool silk cord so that it was a whispers touch over her dusky peeks. Like a Starving peasant, he eats up her every reaction savoring it like a fine wine. Ahww and the song her soft panting gasping and moaning played was like a symphony...

“Should I bind your hand behind your back like last time or  should I bind them in front of you “  he murmured this pondering thought by her ear

She gasped and gave a  sultry husky  “NO  please no “

even with his eye half-lidded with lust  he arched a brow and echoed her words back at her “no and a no with a, please “

his eyes narrowed a bit “you have no say Princess “ he purred out    

Before she could even say more he took of one of her wrists and guide the hand attached to it over the lower part of his arm. He trailed her fingers ever up letting theme brushing up his arm and under his sleeve.

“ this is all you will get for now “ He commands as he took her other wrist and guide it feather light up and down his upper thighs. A shiver shot up his spine at her touch.

He took hold of her hands so fast she did even know if he had already started whining the silken cord about one of her wrists before she whimpered and thrashes her protest. But this did not stop him from taking and lashing her other wrist to the first one.

Looking at her now bound hands he slipt one arm than the other out of his Kimono and shoved it down to his waist.

“I only just started to doll out your sentence for trespassing Princess” he breathed out as he guided her bound hands up and over her head.

There was just enough of a stretch of silk cording to bind around one of the legs of the rough iron tripod, that sat over the central fireplace in the floor. Once Mitsuhide hand bound her hands over her head to look down at his prisoner. Hot glow molten gold gilded eyes raked over the princesses bare forum. And oh his hands touched everything he eyes could drink in.

Ever so slowly Mitsuhide’s fingers played over her flesh caressing her soft supple skin. Around rises of breast peak of rock hard taut nipple. He rolled stiff buds between finger and thumb all in an unspoken command for her body to comply to. Aww and wan it did he rewarded her with feather-light kisses to her neck.

Like a skilled assassin stacking there mark, he trailed kisses from her neck to the rises of her breast.  As if his tongue where his weapon it assaulted her nipple flicking it and lapping at it before he slowly pulled it into his mouth, killing her in wave after wave of blissful delight.  And oh how she trembled and writhed under his slow assassination.

He watched her face through all of this from his snowy lashes. He delighted in the sinful plusher and whorish wanting that washed over her delicate face. Mitsuhide took his time lavishing her chest one plump breast at a time.

She panted and moned gasping outcries of delight along with his name. her thighs bucked as her knees pressed to gather. And now she was begging him to end it to just take her now, but no he was going to extract his punishment for her first.

His hands combed down her sides over her hips to her inner thighs. He gripped the meat of her creamy inner thighs and pushed her legs apart. He settled himself between her sprawled legs. both his knees placed just so she could not close them.

           Mitsuhide didn't even wait for her to catch her breath as he drifted a hand over her molten hot mound. His long slender finger teased the upper petals of her slick wet dewy slit. Her back arched as her hips bucked up into his hand.

“Ever so eager “  the words dripped from his lips as he teased her dripping slit.

He took his time to ease in a finger to her tight treasure chest. And when he did her reaction to it was well worth it.

She half shot up her back arching pushing her hips up, then a reminder her extend arms over her head straining as she cried out her delight. Her hot wet velvety depths griped that one finger as he pumped it in and out. Ahww her crays where music to him as they mixed with the loud beating of his own heart. And in this too he took his time fringer. He would bring her just to that edge before stopping and letting her wither in her denied climax.  

Mitsuhide took great care in how he teased and tortured her,  to the point she was begging him with tears in her eyes, or the whorish squeals and moans that came from her lips became louder and longer. It was then and only then did he tugged at his thin  Obi sash and shed the read of his clothing.

As he leaned down to her he gathered her in his arms pressing her to his taut body. His head dip to her ear his tung trailed over the lobe. One hand snaked its way up one of her extended arms. His fingers found the knot he had tied to the wrought iron tripod and worked it loose.

As soon as her arms and hands were free he picked her up and placed her over his lap as he sat on his knees. Without hesitation, he drove into her to the hilt with is his hard throbbing need. she stretched nicely a around him nicely, her velvet inner depth pulsating around him. He took his time before he began thrusting slowly in and out of her. He took his time with her bringing her to her first climax. And wan she did she come to that crescendo she cray out so loud, Mitsuhide was sure the hole of his manner heard her screaming his name.

After that first, build up and push over the edge he took harder and fast pounding her so that she bobbed rhythmically with every deep thrust. Flawlessly he maneuvered her into a different potion, changing theme up after ever new climax he brought her too. The sounds and noises she was making drove him at times to be none too gentle in the way and manner to took her. Mitsuhide knew he had left more than one mark on her that would come morning be a dark bruise on her pale skin.

Mitsuhide claimed very last cry of plusher he could from her before they both were spent. the last her wrought from her came with is own growl when he released hot and hard in her. Her legs were wrapped about his waist as pushed into her one last time grinding herself to her hips.  her nails dug into his shoulder braking the skin. Her head hand rolled back with her final cray still on her lips.

Ever so gently he eased her back to the floor while placing feather light kisses on her eyes, cheeks. Forehead. With soft and gentle hands he smoothed over her body. Mitsuhide knew she would be sore come morning if she was not already. He kept placing soft kiss on her wherever he saw he had left a make, in tell she hand caught her breath  and was no long panting and gasping  for air

Once the princess was full started and languid Mitsuhide picked her up and carried her to his bed and laid there with her in his arm. It was a long while before she spoke and wan she  did her voice was nothing but a cooed whisper

“I love “

“I love you too “ he whispers back to her before looking down at her

“ don’t ever make me wait that long again” he playfully groused

A sly smile came to her lips as she softly spoke “ Oh I don't know I kind of liked my slow punishment  “

That got a chuckle from Mitsuhide than the sweet kiss he could give to her. Once his lips left hers the princess sigh in contentment and snuggle up to him and drifted off to sleep wrapped in his arms.

[writings-of-bored-gal]

Stuck On You

Bucky x Reader

Summary: Bucky gets stuck on a mission, so his girl insists on going in to get him, resulting in them both getting stuck.

Content: Fluff, fluff, fluff

Warnings: mild swearing, mentions of blood

Author’s Note: I haven’t written Bucky in a minute but I’ve missed him! I’ve got a great idea for a series with him to come soon, so stay tuned for that. Also I mention a song from Cinderella and it’s this if you want to listen whilst reading: So This Is Love- Cinderella

Requests, tag lists and asks open as always! - Abby x

Masterlist

_______________

“Bucky’s comm isn’t working.” Maria said into the mic, “He needs to get out of there, can anyone get to him?”

Maria glanced over to where she was sitting, her shoulders tense as she watched the screens silently. She’d insisted on being close to Bucky, despite not being an Avenger or anything close. When Bucky had approached Maria about her coming, Maria had agreed to give the girl basic training and to let her stay with her in the control room, but it turned out watching the poor girl be terrified for the man she loved was harder work than she thought.

The mission was in Switzerland, in a private base in the Alps. Maria and the operations team we in a quintet above where the mission was taking place whilst Wanda, Steve, Bucky and Natasha went inside the base to retrieve files containing some newly discovered Hydra information. It was meant to be an in and out job, but they’d been expecting them and had been met with more resistance than anticipated.

She watched the screen with Bucky on it, separated from everyone else. She looked to Maria.

“Let me go down there.” She said. Maria looked up and shook her head. “Maria please, the other’s don’t know where he is, I do, I’ve been watching him, just let me-“

“No.” Maria turned away but she got a reply from the other end of the comm.

“Let her go, Hill, Natasha can meet her outside and they can go together, Nat can protect her.” Steve said. She saw him on the top screen, a Hydra agent on his tail. She’d grown close with Cap since dating Bucky and she was pleased to say he was one of the few Avengers who truly believed in her.

Maria sighed. “If you say so, Cap. Nat can you get to the East side of the base outside and meet Y/N there?”

“I’ll be there in three minutes.” Nat replied. Maria nodded and grabbed her some weapons, a gun and knife, and a parachute.

“You shouldn’t need to fight, but if you do, these will be enough. You remember how to use them?” She nodded in reply and Maria clasped her shoulder. “Just in and out.” She nodded again and Maria gestured to the door of the quintet which had begun to open. “Remember the parachute training?” She laughed this time and nodded, how could she forget?

“I’m just going to fetch him, I got this, really.” She grinned, “I’ve got training.”

“Basic training, Y/L/N.” Maria rolled her eyes as she watched her jump from the plane and into the snow.

The cold bit her face, but thankfully it wasn’t windy. The snow was no longer falling, there was only the powder that was already on the ground that softened her fall as she landed. It was surreal. Panic hit her as she climbed from under the parachute that had landed on top of her, searching for Nat.

“NAT?” She shouted, but she had no reply part from the echo bouncing off the mountains. It must have been longer than three minutes. She stood there for a minute, at a loss of what to do. She tried to use the comm but the signal was fuzzy and she couldn’t understand anything through the static. She knew where Bucky was. She had to go and find him herself.

She tried to think of the map on the wall of the jet and the video footage coming from Bucky’s camera. She found a door and took a deep breath. It didn’t open straight way, there was some sort of security. She shrugged and blasted what she figured was the scanner with her gun. The door opened and she couldn’t help but feel a little bit pleased with herself for a split second before walking through the door.

Destruction was everywhere, but it was eerily quiet.

“Maria?” She whispered into her comm, hoping for a reply. She was starting to realise just how unqualified she actually was for this, turning a corner after corner hoping to find something other than static on her comm or even better, to find Bucky.

She jumped a little as she heard a moan down a corridor, but she would recognise his voice anywhere. “Buck,” She breathed, relieved. She began to ran, her footsteps deafeningly loud against the silence of the abandoned base. She was out of breath by the time she reached him, I really need to work out if I’m dating a super hero she thought, entering the room.

He lay, almost motionless. Her throat caught and she knelt down beside him, placing his head gently in her lap.

“James,” She said desperately, stroking his hair urgently, “we need to go, James.” His eyes flickered open, his metal hand reaching slowly for her face.

“Y/N,” He said, a weak smile forming, enough to bring her close to tears. She was so scared. “My leg-“ She looked down properly and saw his right leg, bloody on the floor.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.” She said, taking off her back pack and trying to find something.

“Why are you here?” Bucky tried to prop himself up but his eye began to spot, so he lay back down again, finding comfort in the cold of the tiled floor.

“No one else could reach you and Maria had to try and look after everyone else so I- aha! I knew there’d be something.” She beamed as she found bandages in her bag, shuffling over to his leg and ripping open the material of his pants with a knife.

“Steve?” Bucky asked, “Nat? Wanda? Seriously, they couldn’t find anyone to help you?” He winced as she lifted his leg a little, trying to wipe away some of the blood that had already left the gash.

“Nat was supposed to meet me at the entrance of the base but she must have gotten caught up, but look, seriously, don’t worry. I’m here. We’re gonna get you all cleaned up and then we can get someone to come pick us up once I find some signal on my comm, it should work okay on the other side of the base-“

Bucky grunted loudly in pain, interrupting her babbling. Her head turned to see his face screwed up in pain. She took a deep breath and continued to wrap the bandages, hoping for the best.

“That hurts.” He said, his teeth gritting together.

“Try not to move.”

A harsh chuckle escaped him. “Easy for you to say.” She smiled weakly, still wrapping the material.

When it seemed as though no more blood was coming through, she tied it up. She allowed herself to look at Bucky properly. His face was drenched in sweat, and a purple bruise was forming just above his left eyebrow, which explained why his head was spinning. She got up and went to the other side of the room, hoping to find water but with no luck. She checked Bucky’s discarded backpack on the floor and found half a bottle, propping her head up with her hands.

“Y/N, Bucky, can you hear me?” She let out a breath of complete relief as she heard Nat’s voice. Bucky raised an eyebrow and she gestured to her comm.  

“I can hear you.” She replied gratefully as Bucky continued to gulp down the water.

“Okay I need you to stay calm but they’ve blocked you in. They dropped a bomb to seal up the base with snow but it’s not impenetrable. There’s snow covering all of the doors but we can dig you out but it’ll probably be around twelve or so hours, okay?” Nat sounded so helpless. She looked down at Bucky, his eyes barely open as she held him.

“Okay, Nat, I’ve got this.” She looked down tenderly at her boyfriend and he smiled a little, his eyes still closed, but feeling the warmth in the way she began to stroke his hair.  “Looks like it’s just you and me.” She said to him, adjusting her position so his head was on her one knee and her feet to her side.

“Normally that’s my ideal situation.” His soft smile was replaced with a smirk and she giggled, despite the situation.

“I don’t think you’ll be well enough for that for while,” she teased, “It could be months, maybe even years.” Bucky groaned, making her laugh more, her whole body shaking. Bucky winced and she stopped. “Sorry, too much movement?”

“A little, but I’m glad you’re having such a wonderful time in this situation.” His voice was dripping in sarcasm making her  want to laugh more, but she restrained herself. His eyes opened and she leant forward to delicately kiss his forehead.

“Does this count as my first mission?” She murmured.

“Your first and last.” He replied, “I’m not putting you in this kind of danger again.” His tone had changed now, from being playful to stern.

“James-“

“No, Y/N. This is the end of the discussion.” He sighed, his head was starting to pound. “Are there some painkillers in my bag?”

“I think I saw some.” She replied, suddenly quiet. Bucky watched her, her hair falling in her face as she leant over the backpack, her arms seemed a little frantic as she searched. She pulled out another water bottle and two small packs of pills.

“You’ve got some, and maybe take the antibiotics as well, just in case.” She handed him one of each, pulling his hair from his face so he could take them easier.

“Thanks, Doll.” He took them and leant back, this time a little higher, his head resting on her chest. It was comforting to feel her chest go up and down, her breath moving his hair the tiniest bit. It made him shiver. She wrapped her arms tighter around him.

“Are you cold?” She asked him concerned, searching for something to cover the two of them with.

“I’m fine, Y/N.” He said back, relaxing in her arms. “Any word from the others?”

“Nothing,” She kissed him on the shoulder and he closed his eyes again. “You should get some sleep.”

“I’m not gonna sleep whilst you’re here alone.” He said, but whilst his intentions were good, Bucky could feel the tiredness engulfing him.

“I’ll wake you up if anything happens, Buck.” She kissed him again, moving him so his head was on her knee once more. “Is there anything I can do?” She smirked, “Run you a bath, sing you a lullaby?”

“A lullaby?” Bucky matched her smirk and she laughed timidly. “Would you really sing to me?”

“I suppose if you wanted.” She’d gone shy now, not looking at him. “I don’t really know any lullabies though.”

“What did you listen to when you were little?” Bucky asked, reaching for her hand, taking it and resting it on his shoulder, his thumb circling her palm.

“Disney, I guess?” She shrugged and blushed, “I guess some of that’s kind of like a lullaby?”

“I don’t know any.” Bucky said, “Would you sing me some?”

“Ummm, sure.” She took a deep breath. She didn’t have the best voice in the world, a little throaty, but it was sweet. Her eyes were closed, refusing to think about her surroundings. The tune was slow and soft, one from Cinderella, which had always been her favourite. When she was done, she opened her eyes to see Bucky was asleep on her lap. She stayed awake, keeping check on him and making sure his temperature didn’t rise.

It was a few hours before Steve entered the room.

“Hey,” he sat down, next to her, looking at Bucky asleep in her lap. “You okay?”

“I’m fine.” She whispered back, gently touching Bucky’s face, stirring him from his sleep.

“Buck?” Steve’s voice was full of worry, but Bucky opened his eyes and grinned at him.

“Damn, Rogers, you’ve always got to interrupt my time with my girl, don’t you?” Bucky chuckled as Steve rolled his eyes.

“It was one time. And you were only watching a movie.” He grumbled and stood up and took her arm. Her leg had gone numb ages ago with Bucky’s head on it, but she hadn’t realised just how bad it was until she stood up. “Reckon you can help me carry this idiot back to the door?” Steve asked her, gesturing to Bucky who was sitting helplessly with his leg in bandages. She nodded anklet Steve take the lead, letting Bucky lean on her as much as she could, but Steve did most of the work.

When they got back to the jet, he took her hand and pulled her onto the bed with him. She yelped but laughed and snuggled up to him.

“It’s your turn to sleep now.” He said smoothing her hair. “Want a lullaby?”

“I’m good thanks, soldier.” She smiled, “I’ve heard your shower tunes and they couldn’t put sloth to sleep.”

He laughed slightly, letting her adjust herself so she was comfortable, and he watched her fall asleep, eventually drifting off himself, thinking about how unbelievably lucky he was.

[starsandsupernovae]

Too Late part II

okay so here it is part 2/3 of the angsty superfamily fic thing. part one is here and you can read on my AO3 here

Warnings: This is angst. Pure angst. 

Steve paced back and forth desperately, wanting to punch something, wanting to yell, wanting to get some news, wanting to see his son, wanting his husband to be there with him. The rest of his team was there as well, the rest of his family. They had been here an hour now, an hour since the fight, an hour since Peter had fallen, screaming, and then terribly, horribly silent on the ground. He hadn’t been there but he could picture it, every second of it. He should have been there, should have been fighting with him, but it was just supposed to be a tiny no-name villain, it was never supposed to have happened like this. He should’ve been there, he realized. If he had been there this wouldn’t have happened.

“I should have been there,” he muttered under his breath. Of course, in a room full of people with enhanced senses everything he said was heard. Bucky got up from where he had been sitting with Natasha, approaching him gently.

“Steve?”

Steve turned his face to Bucky a tortured expression painted on it.

“I should have been there, Buck. I could have prevented this. I should have been there.”

“It’s not your fault, Steve. Okay? Peter’ll be fine.” Bucky spoke comfortingly, hoping upon hope that he wasn’t lying. “Tony’s going to come, and the two of you are going to take Peter home, and you’ll all be fine.

“But what if he isn’t? What if this time he’s not okay? What if this time he doesn’t wake up?”

Bucky stood at a loss for words, what could he say? More empty assurances? It felt wrong to stand there making promises he couldn’t keep.

“What if Tony doesn’t come in time? What if Tony arrives and it’s too late?” Steve increased his pace as walked back and forth, before stopping abruptly, jerking to a halt, as the doctor came out to see him.

“Captain Rogers.”

“Doctor?”

“We’ve finished operating.”

“Is he-?”

“He’s alive now, but in critical condition. We’re not sure how long he has left.”

“Can I see him?”

The doctor nodded. “Only immediate family. Follow me.”

Steve followed him immediately walking down the halls towards Peter’s room.

“Captain..” the doctor seemed hesitant to speak.

“Yes?”

“Is your husband…Will he be coming?”

“He’s on his way,” Steve answered tightly, dreading the doctor’s next words.

“I’d, uh, just, um, I’d tell him to hurry.”

——————————

“Mr. Stark?” the attendant asked gently. “You can call now.”

It took Tony only a second to have his starkpad out and calling Steve. He picked up within another minute and Tony was able to see him against the background of the hospital room.

“Steve.” He choked the name out.

“Tony,” Steve responded, clinging to his own name like a lifeline.

“Are you with him?”

Tony saw Steve look away from his phone down onto what must have been the bed in front of him.

“Yeah. They said he’ll probably wake up soon. If. If he wakes up.”

“Can I see him?”

Steve moved his phone so the camera was facing the bed. Tony took in the image of his son, pale, eyes closed, hooked up to so many machines, looking so small, and hurt, and wanted to reach out and hug him, wanted to be there with him.

As he watched, Peter’s eyes fluttered open and he spoke woozily, looking up at Steve.

“Dad?”

“Peter. Peter, hi. I’m here.” Steve answered, gently taking his hand.

“I’m sorry, Dad. I tried to stop him, but-”  Peter broke off trying to cough, struggling to draw air into his lungs.

“It’s okay. You did well. You did so well, Peter.”

Peter smiled a little, wincing at the movement.

“Is Papa here?”

And Tony wanted to cry, wanted to teleport over there, but he was stuck 10 hours and a million miles away.

“I’m on my way.” he forced his voice to remain as calm as possible. “I’m coming for you, alright? Just hang on. I’m coming.”

Peter’s face furrowed in almost childlike confusion.

“Can you come now? I want you here now. Please?”

“I’m coming as soon as I possibly can. It’s going to take me a while but I’m flying to you as fast as possible and I’m gonna be there.”

Peter nodded the tiniest bit, the movement sending pain shooting down his body and his fathers watched helplessly as his heartbeat shot up and he struggled to breathe.

“It hurts.” the sound, a pitiful moan slipped out of his mouth. “It hurts so much.”

Steve propped the phone up, rushing to get a doctor or a nurse who could administer some form of painkiller, leaving Tony to watch helplessly as a tear slipped out of Peter’s eye and down the side of his face.

“I know, sweetie, and we’re going to get you something to stop it hurting, okay? It’s going to stop hurting.”

“Papa,” Peter mumbled, half delirious from both the drugs and pain racing through his body. “I’m scared. I want you to come here, I don’t want to be alone.”

“I am, Peter. I am coming for you. I’m so sorry I’m not there now.”

“But you’ll be here soon?” and there was so much hope and want in Peter’s voice now.

“As soon as I can. It might be a little bit of a while, but I’m going to be there with you.”

He saw Steve coming back in with a nurse, moving in and out of the scope of the camera, in and out of Tony’s line of vision.

Peter smiled the tiniest bit.

“You’re going to fly home for me?”

“Yeah, kid. I’m gonna fly home for you.”

“Like for science. Remember?” Peter was even more incomprehensible now, his words slurring further as whatever extra painkillers he had been given took effect. “You flew home for me.”

“Yeah, I remember.” Tony replied.

“You were in Russia. I thought you were gonna miss it. And then-“

And then just as Peter was about to walk away from his own poster board with Steve to go see all the others the doors had opened, and he had entered, straight from the airport.

“Papa? I thought you were away!”

“You think I’d miss your science fair for some business meeting?” Tony smiled, ruffling his hair. “I flew home for you.”

“Your father wouldn’t have missed that for the world.” Steve had sat back down next to Peter and was gently holding his hand. “Remember when you showed him your project? He was so proud he forgot to be mad you were sneaking into his workshop to make it.”

“And you tried to be upset.” Peter smiled a tiny bit more, looking now at Steve. “And you were told me I wasn’t allowed in there and I should know that. But you kept asking me how I did it. And then Papa tried to tell DUM-E that I wasn’t allowed in.”

“He doesn’t listen to me, that bot.” Tony answered, trying to keep him talking. “He never did and he loves you too much to ever not try and help you with something. Remember that time you wanted to paint your room? And he decided to help?”

Peter tried to laugh and his fathers watched as he struggled to gasp and writhed with the pain the movement brought.

“Yeah.” he breathed out when he could. He squeezed Steve’s hand and the movement tore through Steve, the weakness of his son’s grip, normally strong enough to bend steel and now it was an effort to merely twitch his fingers hard enough to produce the slightest pressure.

“I’m tired.” Peter stared up at him, his wide brown eyes reaching Steve’s pleading for something, for respite from the pain, from the hurt and confusion that he was infused with. “If I go to sleep will you stay with me? Don’t leave me, okay? Stay here?”

Steve nodded, trying to remember how to speak, how to fight past the lump in his throat.

“Yeah. I’m right here. Not going anywhere, Pete, alright? You can sleep and I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

Peter turned his face to the phone where Tony was watching him, trying desperately to keep his face free of the pain he was feeling, trying to be strong for his son.

“Don’t hang up? Stay also?” Words were evidently a struggle and Tony nodded before he had even finished.

“I’m not going anywhere but closer to you. I’m not going to hang up on you. Just rest okay? Rest so that you can wake up stronger.”

Peter’s eyes drooped closed then, his breathing still irregular but somehow smoothing just a little.

Steve turned to the phone.

“Tony-”

“I know.”

And it was evident on his face that he did, Tony’s face was a mirror of Steve’s own, the same pain and fear etched in now that Peter could no longer see them. Steve wanted nothing more then to reach out to him, to pull Tony close so they could support each other and fall onto each other as they always had. But now, at this moment, when they needed each other most, he was so far away.

“Who can I speak to?” Tony asked, grasping at whatever he could, the prospect of being able to help even across the world. “Let me speak to one of the doctors.”

Steve darted right out again to get one of the nurses asking who they could speak to. As usual, the Stark-Rogers name helped and Tony found himself talking to a doctor who was trying to tell him the impossible: that there was nothing more to do. Because there had to be something, there was always something, he couldn’t just sit her doing nothing. He spoke to various professionals for the next few hours always keeping a small video window open to the room where his son lay, his life draining away as his chest lifted and fell ever so slightly, his skin paler than snow. Steve remained in the room, occasionally speaking to Peter in his sleep.

“You’re going to be okay, Peter.” He grasped the hand he held ever so slightly tighter as he spoke. “You’re so strong, you just need to hold on for us. Hold on for your fathers. We need you, Peter. Your father and I love you so so much, and we need you with us.” Steve faltered, again words failing him. When he spoke again it was in whisper, “Please stay with us.”

Peter’s eyes opened again several hours later, gasping as he tried to register where he was. Steve could see the moment it all hit him, the moment the realization of where he was, of who was there and who was not, struck him.

“Dad? Is Papa here yet?”

Tony spoke before Steve had to answer, voice emanating from the tablet Steve had managed to get.

“Not yet. But I’m coming, alright? Just a few more hours and then I’ll be with you, Peter. Just wait a couple more hours, can you do that for me? Wait a few more hours and I’ll be there.”

“Are you- are you missing the important meeting?” And oh god, Peter actually looked concerned for him now, even as he struggled to ask the question. But that was Peter, always putting everyone before himself, caring for others papercuts before his own wounds.

“I’m not missing anything more important.” Tony reassured him. “There’s nothing in the world I could be missing that’s more important than speaking with you right now.”

Steve spoke up then as Peter sank down into his pillow, looking satisfied with Tony’s answer.

“The rest of the team is waiting outside. Do you want to speak with any of them?”

Peter nodded slowly.

“Yeah.”

Two minutes later the room was full, all the other avengers as well as Pepper having flooded in.

“Hey, Spider-kid.” Bucky spoke first. “How’re you holding up?”

“Been better.” Peter answered, attempting humor. He tried to speak again but broke off into a coughing fit. Steve leaned in closer to try and hear what he was trying to say.

“Dad? Can I speak with Nat? Alone?”

A wave of unease swirled over Steve at the question, but he trusted her and nodded.

“Natasha. He wants to speak with you.”

He motioned for the others to step outside.

After the door was closed Natasha walked to the seat Steve had vacated and sat.

“Hi, Peter.”

“Nat? Will you answer me truthfully?”

She stared at him, knowing the question that was coming deliberating for a long moment.

“Yes.” She said at last.

“Dad keeps telling me I’ll be okay. Will I?”

Natasha sat still. It was clear why he had chosen her now, why he had chosen the avenger who would know the value of the truth even if it was hard, even if it was the wrong truth, the one no one wanted to hear.

“The doctor’s think it’s possible. But…”

“They’re not hopeful.” Peter finished for her. “It’s okay. I thought so. It’s okay.”

“I’m sorry, Peter.”

“No. No sorry. It’s not your fault. It’s no one’s fault. Will you help people remember that? Please make sure they know that it’s no one’s fault.”

Natasha nodded silently.

“And you need to stay okay? Dad, and Papa, they’re going to need you, and you can’t leave them now. Not on some extended mission, not to go track down someone far away where no one can contact you. Please don’t leave them after I’m gone.”

“This isn’t certain.” Natasha said. “There’s still chances of recovery, there may be other options…”

“I know. But just-” he was interrupted by another coughing fit. “Just in case. Make sure everyone stays also? Bucky, and Bruce, don’t let Thor fly off to Asgard. And my fathers, you all stay with them, okay? Don’t leave them alone unless they need to be and you need to be there for them.

Natasha nodded again.

“Thank you.” Peter breathed, smiling just the tiniest bit.

Natasha left for a moment before the team came back in Steve coming to Peter’s side.

“Papa’s nearly here.” Steve told him as he brought the tablet into his view.

“I’m really close to New York.” Tony spoke. “I’m going to have to hang up while I land but then I’ll call you right back, alright? And then I’ll be there with you.”

“Okay.”

“I love you, Peter. To infinity and back.”

Peter smiled at Tony and for some reason a chill ran through him then as he viewed him on the screen, face suddenly peaceful.

“I love you too, Papa. I love you so much.”

Tony’s screen went dark then as they began the descent and all he had to focus on was that image of Peter, smiling up at him as he told him he loved him, his face pale and ashy, but his eyes bright, a strange peace over his face and a sense of fear began to grow as the plane landed. By the time he was able to open his tablet again, half an hour later, the fear was full force rushing through his head pounding against his brain.

He turned it on, pressing Steve’s contact with a growing sense of dread mixing with his fear.

Pepper picked it up. He stared at her face on the screen for a full minute, neither of them speaking. He felt a presence behind him and turned to see Rhodey, who had apparently come to pick him up. He stared at him then, daring him to deliver the news.

“I’m so sorry, Tony.” Rhodey told him and every word was trying to penetrate the fog surrounding Tony but no, this was wrong, how could this be, he just spoke to him, he was just there, he was going to see him, he was going to fly home to him and be with him.

Rhodey held out his arms to him and Tony collapsed into them dropping the tablet onto the ground the realization hitting him hard.

“I was too late.”

[cryoreal]

Part 2 of @amymel86‘s prompt! This is rated E under the cut, so proceed at your own risk. Also on AO3.

Stupid, stupid, stupid, Jon chanted to himself, one hand pressed to the shower wall desperately, his other hand much more occupied. 

It had been two weeks since he felt the cool skin of her forehead under his lips. Two weeks, and god knew how many orgasms. He couldn’t get enough. 

It wasn’t her fault, not really. She was just there.

Jon had to deal with her breezing downstairs every morning, a vision in a messy bun and oversized tshirt, drinking her coffee with perfectly pursed lips. And then he immediately had to run to the bathroom and take a shower, so that he could beat the memory of her topless chest out of his brain.

It didn’t work, of course, but he could keep trying. The hot water beat down on the back of his neck as he finally came, his breath coming out ragged as he saw her perfect chest in his mind’s eye. He would never forget how peachy her nipples looked, the way her tits jiggled as she straightened her back. And then he had to go and kiss her, of all things, and now he was well and truly fucked. 

Sansa stopped him on his way back to get dressed. “Have you seen my blue sweater?”

“Your what?” he replied stupidly. 

“My sweater,” she repeated. “I need it, Marg and I are going shopping.”

It was only then that she seemed to notice he was mostly naked, because her gaze dropped and didn’t come back up.

“Check the laundry basket downstairs, I think I saw it there,” he said, as casually as he could manage. I need to get a shirt that says “my eyes are up here.”

“Great!” Her eyes flicked a little lower once more before she patted his bicep, flashing him a bright smile. “Thanks, Jon!”

His gaze followed her ass discreetly as she bounded down the stairs. Sansa had always acted a bit aloof around him, sometimes even downright rude. Twice in one week she had run outside in the middle of a conversation they were having, without even looking back. He tried not to take it to heart. Lately, though, she was more friendly, and more… open.

After their shopping trip, when he heard her admit she thought he was sexy, she seemed to be warmer around him. And he would have to be an idiot not to notice how much time she spent staring at his chest. 

He didn’t want to make her uncomfortable, but maybe she just needed a little push. 

So, when Sansa came home three hours later, with Robb gone to his girlfriend’s for the weekend, she found Jon in her bedroom, clad in only sweatpants. More specifically, on her bed.

“What the fuck?”Jon watched the bags in her hand thud to the ground. 

“Hey. I thought maybe we could have a little chat.”

“A chat,” she echoed back faintly, her eyes falling down, down, down… “Why don’t you have a shirt on if we’re chatting?”

Jon shrugged nonchalantly. “It’s warm in here.”

Sansa sat down gingerly beside him, and he noticed a visible effort on her part to keep her eyes trained on his face. 

“Two weeks ago, you called me sexy.”

A muscle in her cheek twitched. “Objectively, you are sexy. It’s just stating fact.”

“Sansa.” his voice lowered to a groan. “I know what’s been happening.”

“You do?” she squeaked out, and he saw real panic in her eyes. 

“I just want you to know that I like you too,” he whispered conspiratorially, reaching out to take her hand in his. He saw something strange pass over her face before he leaned in, kissing her cheek gently.“I know you’d never truly admit it, but you think I’m attractive, and I feel the same about you. So, if it’s something that you might want to do…” he held his breath and waited, hoping he hadn’t read the signs all wrong.

Her eyes were wide when she suddenly stood up, pacing across the room. “I’m so sorry if I misunderstood, Sans, but let me-”

“Hush,” she tossed over her shoulder before pulling her shirt over her head. “You’re shirtless. This is only fair.” She unclasped her bra as well, flinging it over a chair before turning around to face him.

His memory hadn’t done her justice. She looked incredible doused in coffee, but plain, clean Sansa was even better. His mouth watered, and he reached out a hand to cup one breast, feeling her lean into his hand. If this is a dream, never wake me up.

“If this is how you’re going to play the game,” he murmured quietly, before leaning back to rip his sweats off and chuck them near the door. 

There was no air left in the room. Sansa’s eyes went down, down, down again, and he relaxed back on his elbows as her gaze focused on his cock hungrily. 

“Fair’s fair.” Her skinny jeans came off next, but he held up a hand to stop her when he saw her panties.

“Lovely.” Jon pressed a kiss to each of her hips, running his fingers over the soft fabric there. “You look incredible in blue.”

“I’ve heard,” she tossed back cheekily, and Jon had to shake his head with a laugh. Far from the nervous, flustered girl who had run from him for months, Sansa in the bedroom was fire incarnate. 

He ripped them down her thighs himself, nuzzling into the warmth there as she swayed on her feet. Jon gently guided her to sitting on the bed, settling himself between her legs as she draped her calves over his shoulders. 

“Are you ready?”

She was panting heavily, propped up to see him pressing kisses to her thighs softly and she moaned, letting her head fall back. “God, yes.”

He wanted to do this gently for her, slowly, and so he delicately traced the outsides of her lips before spreading them open in front of him. “Beautiful girl,” he whispered, letting the cool air whisper out onto her, and she wriggled her hips in front of him. “Be patient.”

He slipped his fingers up her slit, collecting the wetness there as he circled her clit gently, listening for the ways she keened quietly. When he pressed a finger into her center, she practically rocketed off the bed.

“Shall I hold you down?” he murmured into her, and was rewarded with a jerk of her hips. His free arm came up to drape over her hips, holding her upper body down but allowing her to circle towards his hand still as he kissed everywhere but where she needed. 

“Please!” she whined finally, and Jon happily lapped his way up her slit, kissing and licking to find the spots she liked most. He finally settled into a rhythm, two fingers pressed deep inside her while his tongue and lips danced and suckled on her clit. Hearing her moans was better than any symphony he could imagine, and he closed his eyes happily to focus on her sensations, the way she strained against his face, the feeling of her hands clutching him to her by tugging on his hair. 

It was a few moments of keeping his rhythm steady before her hips started to falter in their circling, jerking sporadically against his mouth. Jon opened his eyes just in time to see her arch her back against the bed, her hands pulling his hair enough to hurt, but he refused to let up until she whined wordlessly and tapped his shoulder.

He wiped his mouth and crawled onto the bed to lay next to her, laying his hand on her belly as she tried to catch her breath. “Jon…” she murmured, her eyelids fluttering open, and he pressed a kiss to her neck. “I need…”

“Tell me, sweet girl.” Her hand grasped his cock suddenly, and he groaned.

 “I need you to fuck me senseless.”

He jerked his head up to look at her, truly look at her, and she met his gaze with hooded lids. “Are you sure?”

“I am more positive than you can imagine.”

Jon grasped her by the waist, scooting her up the bed until there was room for him to kneel between her spread legs, her center still glistening from her orgasm. She pulled his cock to her, rubbing his head into the slickness there, and he thought his eyes were going to roll back permanently. 

He couldn’t keep his hands off her. She was busy slowly pushing his cock into her, her other hand stroking down his back, but he couldn’t seem to pick a place to keep his hands on her. He traced her jawline, stroked her coppery hair down to a nipple, pinched it gently before running his thumb over the small of her waist, dipping it into her belly button. 

She wriggled underneath his wandering hands, giggling a little as he grazed over her more ticklish spots, and he couldn’t help but moan at the feeling of her tightening around his cock when she laughed. 

He wanted to brand the feeling of her body into his brain. He was sliding in and out of her slowly, so slowly, trying to warm her up when she suddenly gripped his chin, tipping his face down to hers with her thumb. “Faster.”

“Yes, princess,” he smirked, increasing his pace just the tiniest bit, and she hooked her ankles together behind his back.

“More, Jon, please.”

He was pounding her into the bed, her head just started to hang off the other side, but she had a vise grip on his biceps. Jon had no intention of stopping until she groaned, her hands squeezing tighter.

“Flip me over.”

He paused immediately, using his free hand to cradle the back of her neck as she sat up. 

“You heard me.”

He might have been in shock, because she finally squirmed out from underneath him and repositioned herself the right way on the bed, her ass opened up in front of him. “Are you just going to stare or what?”

He came to his senses then and whipped his hips around to align with her pussy, slipping back into her easily as they moaned in tandem. He thought he was hearing things at first, but then it became apparent that she was truly whispering “harder, harder, harder.” 

Jon Snow was never a man to deny a lady what she wanted.

“Like this?” he grunted, feeling her legs begin to shake underneath him. When her knees wobbled as well, he moved one arm to stabilize her hips, the other still massaging her ass as she bounced back into him.

“Yes, yes, yes!” He couldn’t help but feel a twinge of pride as she shook underneath him so he fucked her harder, watching her gasp for breath as he slammed in and out of her. He didn’t really know what her ass looked like on its own, but he imagined it was just as good as when she allowed him to fuck her like this. 

She was still eagerly bucking into him when he felt his release slam over him, and his hips jerked into hers needily as she cried out. When he finally collapsed over her back, completely spent, she was giggling quietly.

“What’s so funny?” he mumbled into her skin, and she only laughed harder.

“Why, Jon Snow, that was straight out of my dreams.”

[maribugg-blog1]

soft paws

on ao3

Summary:  Chat Noir rescues a kitten but realizes he isn't as cut out for the job as he may of thought, so he calls the only person with more understanding of how to take care of cats than him: Ladybug.

“Marinette! I messed up. I messed up, I messed up, I messed up.”

“Chat, slow down. What’s happening?” Marinette held the receiver to her ear. Chat Noir rarely called Marinette on her civilian phone, especially not this early in the morning. And with his tone as rushed and frantic as it was it was causing her heartrate to increase. The early morning signs of sun were gently making their way through grey clouds and snowfall. Paris wasn’t awake yet so the streets and trees were pristine and cloaked in white; untouched by citizens or the warming sun. Everything about outside beckoned for a calm and peaceful day, but it was barely morning and Marinette’s stomach was already twisted in knots.

“I thought I was ready but I’m not. I’m so not!”

“Ready for what?” Panic was starting to settle in. The only response she got was a distant yelp from his side of the call.

“Chat?!”

“Parenthood! I thought I was ready for the world of kitten parenthood but I’m not!” he moaned in an exasperated tone. Marinette couldn’t help but laugh.

“Kitty, you scared me! But it turns out a kitty is just scaring you! When did you adopt a cat?” she chided as she relaxed back onto her bed as her heartbeat returned to normal. Leave it to Chat Noir to get overwhelmed by a kitten.

“Well not really adopt as much as rescued in the snow storm last night,” he mumbled.

“Oh, chaton, you really are too kind. What’s the kitten up to?” she mumbled as her body began lulling her back to sleep.

“Well he, at least I think he’s a he, keeps disappearing in my room and I need to put him in his carrier because I have to leave but now I’m just realizing that I have no one to take care of him for the next couple hours so add that to the list of ways I messed up. Also, he’s a bit of a menace and won’t stop knocking things over and now anything that was once on a shelf is now broken on the floor and I don’t have time to clean it up and –”

“Chat! Breath,” she interrupted him still with a grin on her face. The thought of Chat Noir stumbling around a room trying to keep up with a sneaky little kitten was a mental image that was just too funny to shake; maybe even a bit satisfying but at the very least ironic. She heard him take a deep breath on the other end of the line.

“What do I?” He sounded utterly broken. Probably exhausted from trying to step up to his role of Cat Dad, she thought. She couldn’t help but take pity on him.

“Tell you what, Kitty. If you can manage to get the kitten into his carrier then you can bring him over here and I’ll watch him for you.” She practically heard his face light up which caused her to smile even more.

“Really?”

“Yeah, I have no plans for the day of than some homework. Just promise me you won’t swing the kitten around the rooftops of Paris trying to get here.”

“Of course not, Princess! I’ll be there as soon as I can!” And with that there was a definitive click ending the call. Marinette had never taken care of a pet bigger than a hamster, but she did babysit Manon so she figured she could handle a sweet little kitten.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng is a goddess, Adrien thought as gently slid his mattress from its spot in search of his lost kitten. Adrien had acted a bit out of impulse the night before. He and Ladybug had decided to end patrol early due to the threat of what felt like a blizzard. He hadn’t really wanted to suggest it, but he knew that Ladybug was miserable when she got too cold and she did too. A bit disheartened he had transformed back into Adrien and just as he turned the corner onto his street he saw a tiny grey and white ball of fluff huddled under a parked car trying to hide from the oncoming flurries of white powdery snow. He had somehow coaxed the kitten out from under the car and it nestled into his chest probably due to his body heat and dry jacket that enveloped the small creature.

Their first hour together had been positively adorable. The kitten curled up on Adrien’s lap as the boy frantically searched the best food and toys he could get the kitten before all the shops closed for the night. Plagg had become particular vocal in his ear saying that he should just take the kitten to the shelter but Adrien wasn’t having any of it. He didn’t care if he would have to hide the cat from the entire mansion, he was keeping it. Besides, what was one more secret? Their blissful happiness was short lived though. After the kitten had warmed up he was no longer content just on laying around on Adrien. He began to explore the massive expanse of Adrien’s room and that’s when it all began to go wrong. The streaky grey and white puffball started demolishing everything he could get his paws on.

“Kitten, no!” he scolded in a harsh whisper. The kitten made its way into every nook and cranny just outside of Adrien’s grasp before the boy finally gave up. “I’m leaving for twenty minutes to get you food. Do not leave this room. Do you hear me Kitten?” he called out into the empty space.

When Adrien returned the promised twenty minutes later with a small carrier, kitten food, and a handful of small toys it was confirmed that the kitten had definitely not left the room. This was apparent due to the fact it was in shambles. His pillows clawed at, his desk looked like it had been hit by a tornado, and the basketball net four meters in the air was even shredded.

“What did you do?!” he exclaimed as he picked up the furry animal from the inside of his Foosball table. Any sort of angry or confusion harbored inside of Adrien melted as the kitten snuggled into his chest and he felt its soft purr vibrate against his skin.

“You are so goddamn lucky you’re cute,” he muttered into the kitten’s fuzzy head before turning off his lights to go to bed. There hadn’t been much actual sleeping with the constant pawing at his cheeks or the pouncing claws at his blanket every time he moved his feet. Eventually, Adrien admitted defeat and grudgingly started getting ready for his day when numbing panic settled into his body. Photoshoot. He had a photoshoot in Normandy and would be gone all day. His first instinct was to scream. But he decided that would probably blow his cover more than do him any kind of favors. He racked his brain trying to think of people who were good with cats. Then it hit him. Ladybug had been dealing with him for over two years now! So he called her.

Well. Not technically Ladybug.

He called Marinette who he knew was Ladybug, but she wasn’t as aware of their situation as he was. He hadn’t known for that long, honest. And he thought about telling her every single day. He thought about casually turning around and passing her a note in class. He thought about sneaking into her room at night and whispering it so only the two of them could hear. He thought about finding a megaphone and shouting it from the top of the Eiffel Tower. Always saying “I know you’re Ladybug! And it’s me! I’m Chat Noir!” But she didn’t want to know and he had to respect that.

Adrien had been elated when he discovered Ladybug was Marinette. There was never of moment of stark realization but rather just a steady stream of little hints and clues until he finally pieced it all together. Inkling suspicions became concrete facts and he was never so happy as to realize he could have them both; both as partners and best friends and victims of his puns and flirtation. Because for everything Ladybug wasn’t there was Marinette and vice versa. Once they came together in his mind they were no longer two great people, but rather one perfect person. And that perfect person had just saved his life by agreeing to take care of a kitten.

“It looks like you have some competition for the cutest kitty in Paris, Chat Noir,” Marinette smiled and she cuddled up to the little kitten pressed against her chest. She nuzzled her nose against the top of its head and the moment he started purring Marinette’s heart melted.

Chat had been giving her the biggest grin then gawked in faked betrayal with a palm pressed to his heart, “Princess, I’m wounded.” She gave him a small shrug before returning her attention back to the animal just barely big enough to fill her palms.

“What’s his name?” she inquired.

“I actually haven’t named him yet. I’ve sort of just been referring to him as Kitten.”

"Well that’s my name for you, so it looks like we’re just going to have to find a new one for this little guy,” Marinette said with just the tiniest hint of pink dusting her cheekbones and ears.

She was comfortable around Chat, he was her partner after all. But he had begun to start visiting her more and more as Marinette recently and it was making her brain tell her heart do weird things that she had never expected. She wasn’t upset by it as much as she was just confused. She had never even considered the possibility of having a crush on someone other than Adrien. She wasn’t even entirely sure if she had a crush on Chat or if she was just getting frustrated that her relationship with Adrien was stagnant. But she couldn’t deny that more and more she wanted to see Chat whether she was in costume or not. Or that her mind sometimes drifted to meaningless scenarios with him as a main character rather than Adrien. That she secretly started hoping he would stay longer when he visited her at home. Maybe he is just becoming more of my best friend, she convinced herself.

Chat mimicked Marinette’s slight blush, “that can be arranged,” he teased.

“Thank you again, Marinette. It’ll be dark when I get back… so wait up,” he winked. And with that he was climbing up out of her trapdoor and disappearing into the streets of Paris.

“See you later, Kitty,” she called as quietly as possible from the opening. “And you,” she looked pointedly at the dark ball of fluff curling up on her pillow, “I have some ideas for.”

Chat was exhausted from the train rides and the posing and the makeup and the bright lights and what seemed like an even longer train ride, but the moment he landed on Marinette’s balcony he suddenly felt his body coming back to life. He gently tapped against the glass that separated the two of them and smiled when her blue eyes greeted him. She gently nudged open the window open for him to come in with a finger pressed to her lips motioning for him to be quiet.

“Shh, he’s sleeping,” she whispered. She had changed into her pajamas and her usual pigtails had been traded in for a messy bun on top of her head. Adrien couldn’t ignore how cute she looked when she seemed to feel entirely like herself.

Chat smiled at the kitten curled against the fluffy pink sheets of Marinette’s bed then to the girl in front of him.

“Thank you,” he replied matching her volume. Marinette gave him a smile that made his heart flutter up into his throat and every nerve of his skin tingle.

“Do you want to stay awhile and have a snack? I’m sure there are leftover croissants downstairs.” Marinette must have seen his eyes light up because she just nodded then disappeared through her trapdoor.

Every time he was in here, whether disguised or not, Adrien was always taken aback by how at home he felt in Marinette’s room. Even though it was covered in pink, cluttered by half-finished projects, and adorned in so many things that were just Marinette. He never felt like anything was expected of him or out of place and certainly never forgotten. Either Marinette or her parents were constantly checking in and making sure everything was okay. He looked over to the kitten settled in on the bed and thought how at home they both seemed here.

Marinette climbed back onto the bed were Chat had positioned himself on him stomach, resting his chin on his crossed arms, and watching the small cat.

“Scooch,” she mumbled as she slide in next to him with a plate of flaky golden croissants placed between them.

“Thank you again, Princess,” he said whilst stuffing the bready snack into his mouth.

“Of course. How was your day?” she asked. Chat groaned and flipped over to his back and covered his face with his pawed hands. “That bad, huh?” she speculated as she absentmindedly brushed his hair away from his face.

Chat removed his hands and stared up at her with sleepy green eyes that were slowly closing the more she played with his hair. Chat didn’t know if Marinette realized what she was doing to him, but he felt like he could dissolve into her mattress right then and there. His tired muscles began to relax and he had to fight the growing purr in this throat. And with every stroke of her fingertips across his forehead be was remembering over and over again why he was so in love with her.

“I thought of a name,” Marinette spoke, her voice soft and melodic in his ear. Adrien slowly fluttered his eyes back open and made an “hmm?” noise in response. Marinette’s cheeks became rosy and the deep pools that were her eyes nervously shifted from his face.

“Oh, well I today when I was watching him I would kind of just let him wander around and do as he pleased. It would be fine until out of nowhere he would just start meowing. And not just regular meowing, but loud, relentless meowing. And I could not figure out what he wanted. I tried food and water and toys, but he just wasn’t having it. And then the second I picked him up and started petting him he stopped. So I started calling him Louis. Like King Louis XIV. Since he was so demanding and acts like the boss of the place,” she finished. Chat looked at the kitten and couldn’t see him without the name.

“I think that sounds perfect. The King,” he looked as her, “and the Princess.” She halfheartedly shoved him with one of the elbows that was propping her up. “And your knight in shining armor,” he winked.

“Whatever you say, chaton,” she teased. Her voice was warm and wrapped around him like a blanket. He subconsciously nudged himself closer against her side and her body seemed to do the same.

“I say...I saaaay,” he yawned.

“I say it’s time for you to go home and go to bed,” she smiled as hand went up to cover her own yawn.

“You’re probably right,” he admitted and looked over to Louis who was still fast asleep. He quickly stretched into what looked like a starfish then gently picked up the kitten try to keep from waking him. Marinette had gone down to the main part of her room to gather all of the supplies Chat had brought over with him earlier that day.

Once the two of them had everything he came with Adrien was trying to think of any way not to leave. Not yet. He reluctantly took the carrier that now held Louis in it and smiled at the girl across from him. Her eyes were tired and her hair had somehow become even more disheveled with little sprigs of hair popping up in random places. He reached for her hand and placed a soft kiss to her knuckles like he always did as he was about to leave. Maybe it was his sleep deprived brain or the fact he was falling more in love with Marinette every day but he had to resist the growing urge to trail gentle kisses up her hand, her wrist, her arm, her shoulders, her neck, her cheeks, until her reached her lips. Luckily the more sensible part of him woke up before he could. But not quick enough to stop him entirely.

“Goodnight, my princess. Thank you again,” he murmured into her ear then quickly left a delicate kiss on her cheekbone as he pulled away to disappear through the window leaving a slightly stunned Marinette behind him.

She stood the quietly for a moment. And long after he was gone responded in a voice so quiet it would be lost in the wind, “Goodnight, my knight in shining armor.”