#I could use an electric mixer but I like to feel my arms burn and work off some rage lol | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bunny-lily · 4 months

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Tether Me - Chapter 3

Pairing(s): Geto/Gojo/Reader Summary: Your soul housed a violent anathema whose sole purpose was to torment you with the notion that nowhere is safe. You can’t stay here, you can’t stay there, you can’t stay anywhere.

It reminded you of that one immortal snail hypothetical. No matter where you went, it would always follow you.

If that was the case, then, where was that feeling now?

The bickering boys in front of you, the idyllic mountains that curtained the shallow canyon, this cozy home and the terrifying one you owned – why didn’t they spur that fight-or-flight instinct in you? What was different about Japan, about this location?

Why did breathing feel so easy?

AN: Additional tag warnings: suggestive content, smut, masturbation, degrading names/language to self. There is 1 (one) mention of reader being mildly interested in nutrition facts. Just a small warning. It's very, very brief, but I figured I'd better be safe.

Ch: Prologue | Ch: 1 | Ch: 2 | Ch: 3 | Ch: 4 | Ch: 5 - 1 | Ch: 5 - 2

WC: 14.7k

“Whatcha makin’?” Satoru grilled you. Again.

He was relaxing on his forearms on the kitchen island, right leg bouncing on the circular step of the barstool, having pestered you for the nth time in the last 20 minutes alone.

You ignored him, focusing on whipping the egg whites, occasionally sprinkling more of the sugar you set aside into the mix. He had an electric mixer, one of those super pricey ones, too, but you preferred doing it by hand. Your entire arm was killing you, but you had better control like this.

You also just didn’t know how to operate the electric mixer.

You were pleasantly surprised to find that he already had all the ingredients you needed – ‘Ijichi tries to bake sometimes. He chars the cookies every time, though.’ – so a trip to Granny’s shop was spared. As was the trip to the bakery, that was pushed aside for another day.

Satoru’s and Suguru’s eyes were needling into your back, way too intense and nerve-wracking for comfort for such a menial task. You weren’t expecting them to both want to watch you fulfill your promise to make something for the former.

You also weren’t anticipating the latter’s presence, the added weight of his appearance making your wrist shake, and it wasn’t from exerting yourself with the egg whites.

“You could just use the stand mixer,” Gojo informed you.

He reminded you of an impatient bee; buzzing around you, epicurious about anything sweet, and a bit annoying. Otherwise harmless, so long as you didn’t try to steal said sweets.

“Yes, I know, thank you,” you replied flatly. “I prefer whisking by hand, though.”

“Why? That just seems tiring.”

It was, but you weren’t about to tell him that. “It’s easier for me to discern the stiffness of the peaks this way.”

“But it takes so long,” he complained, then added an extra few choice words under a whisper. “I’ll make your peaks stiff…”

Suguru chimed in. “Be patient, Satoru. Baking takes time, you can’t rush the process.”

You were quick to become very appreciative of that man. He was the real angel on your shoulder, supporting you and defending you from his best friend’s complete and utter gremlin chaos.

“But it takes so loooong,” the aforementioned gremlin whined louder.

Suguru groaned quietly and extended an apologetic smile to you when you pivoted to look at them. Satoru had his head laid down on the counter, nose smushed and stupidly long arms stretched out across the surface. You ruffled his hair as you passed him to grab the baking tray and paper he found for you earlier.

He tilted his head enough to show you a closed-eye mien of happiness, lips curled like the Chesire cat’s. He really did remind you of a feline a lot of the time, he downright purred when you ran your fingers through his enviously soft tresses.

Shit. You wanted to touch them again.

You retrieved the tray and strutted back to your bowl of semi-prepared batter. “Do you want me to tell you what I’m making now, or do you want it to be a surprise?”

His head popped up. “Now! Wait– no, no, surprise! Oh, wait, no, hang on,” he rambled, warring with indecision.

Suguru met your gaze and stood up from the stool he’d picked out, coming to stand beside you and bending so you were face-to-face. “I’d like to know now, if you’re willing to divulge,” he pointed at himself, the corners of his lips tugging upwards.

You made a show of deliberating his request, pressing the side of your index finger against your bottom lip as you tapped your toe and furrowed your brow. Your eyes sparkled as you beckoned him closer with your hand, choosing to heed his request, and motioned for him to turn his head to the side.

Having him this close to you was making your heart flutter like a canary behind the protective bars of its cage, chirping and tweeting. The warmth of his skin radiated in pleasant waves towards you, and the notes of his aura grazed against your cheeks once more; warm chai on a mellow night.

This was dangerous, yet you craved more.

You noticed the gauges in his lobes as he did so, appreciating the disks of deep blue as you leaned closer and cupped your hand around his ear, whispering into it.

He rose back up with an approving nod. “Oh, he’ll like those. Keep it a secret.”

“What!?” Satoru cried out, rounding the island sharply and closing the distance between you in two steps. “That’s cruel! You can’t just tell him, then not tell me!”

You patted his chest and lightly bumped him out of the way with your hip. “Sorry, it’s two-to-one. You’ll have to be patient to find out. I don’t think it’ll be hard for you to guess, anyway.”

“Is it too late to kick you out?”

“Yes,” Suguru answered in your stead. “She’s baking something for you, she gets to bully you a little in return.”

“Thank you, Geto-san,” you bowed exaggeratedly to him, then began folding the batter and adding drops of food coloring to it.

Satoru sulked. “She doesn’t bully me a little, she bullies me a lot.”

The kokushoku-haired boy clapped his hand on the other’s shoulder. “It’s good for you. Character growth, it’ll teach you some humility.”

“Oi! Who’s side are you on, anyway?” He accused him with a pointed finger pressing into his chest.

Suguru raised his hands by his shoulders in mock surrender, a shit-eating grin pinching his cheeks. “Hey, I’m just the mediator here.”

“‘Mediator’ my ass. You’re just defending her because she’s making cookies–”

“Not cookies,” you and Suguru corrected in sync.

“–or some shit.”

You rolled your eyes, muffling a laugh against the back of your hand while you scooped the batter into a piping bag. You’d have to replace it later and leave an apology note for Ijichi. Not that they were used much, from what you could tell. Once the bag was full, you twisted the top shut and snipped the bottom to let the round tip free, fighting to not make any terribly tasteless dick jokes in the process.

You couldn’t do that in polite company.

Polite company was Geto.

Satoru and Suguru bickered back and forth behind you as you concentrated on piping facile, even circles onto the baking sheet. That was the hardest part for you, getting them to be symmetrical. You had to flaunt your skill. You had an audience of two stupidly attractive men awaiting your results.

You released the breath you were holding when you finished the last row, smug that they were all perfect. You set aside the nearly empty plastic bag and lifted the tray an inch off the counter and dropped it a few times, shaking loose any bubbles.

Whooh, the majority of your work was done now.

The tray got pushed aside to let the batter rest while you cleaned up your station of a few things. “Satoru.”

“And you– ah?” He answered, pulled out of his boyish spat. “What?”

“French, American, Swiss, or Italian?”

“Uh…” He gave you a flat, confused squint while you and Suguru waited for his decision. “American…?”

“Good choice,” you nodded, relieved you wouldn’t need to do any more heavy lifting. For this, you could use the stand mixer. After you figured it out, that is, but you had plenty of time to do that now.

Except for the fact that it was on top of the fridge.

For some fucking reason.

You planted your hands on your hips, staring up at it angrily.

Your mother and father both just had to be short. What a cruel joke the universe has played on you, putting you in a house designed specifically around a tall freak and his freakishly tall family. You hadn’t seen his folks, but it was easy to assume, given the door frame heights. RNG could only get you so far if the right genes didn’t run in your family.

Gritting your teeth, you stepped closer to the fridge, placed one hand on the front side that didn’t have the ridiculous LED touchscreen panel on it, then jumped on your toes, trying to reach the object.

Your fingers could only ever barely graze the base of it, no matter how hard you tried. Shit. Alright, plan B.

You twirled around to face the now silent pair that were observing you with amused, wry smickers, clearly entertained by your struggle.

Oh.

Your plan B was to grab a chair from the dining table to use as a stool, but somehow that felt more humiliating than plan C.

“Help,” you requested with faux meekness. “Please.”

“Help with what?” Suguru drawled with a coy lilt. “Use your words, angel.”

You pressed your lips together to stave off the flood of lewd hormones that threatened to drown you under their heady waves. He really meant it when he said he was going to use that nickname, and you were struggling.

“Please, help me get the thing down from the fridge.”

“What thing?” Satoru goaded you. “Be more specific.”

Plan B was looking to be a lot more viable now. What was a bit of your pride worth, anyway?

Your nostrils flared and you forced your blood to cool. “The stand mixer. I…can’t reach it.”

“We can see that,” he confirmed as he approached you, hands casually stuffed in his pockets. “You are pretty short.”

Your tongue started moving before your brain could register, let alone approve of, just what you were mouthing under your breath. “Yeah, well, why don’t you put some inches in me…”

Your eyes widened and you slapped your hand over your mouth, watching in mortification as his surprise morphed into absolutely elated revelry.

“What was that, princess?” He took a step forward, you took one back, one more from him, one more from you, all the way until he had cowed you against the far counter, his hands trapping you in on either side. “Wanna say that again?”

“N-No! I said nothing!”

“Didn’t sound like nothing to me,” he lolled his head to the side, peering down at you through those cetacean lenses.

Are his eyes gray? You questioned silently as you attempted and failed to process how you got yourself into this position, all of it coming so fast. They’re so light. His glasses make them look blue.

“Oh?” Suguru voiced as he came to stand beside you two, bending to have his face in your line of sight, further causing you to shrink. “What’d she say?”

Satoru chuckled darkly, making chills shoot up your back and heat pool deep in your belly and high on your cheeks. “Correct me if I’m wrong, princess, but I do believe she told me to ‘put some inches in her’.”

Your face felt like it was fluxing off. Sweat formed at your hairline, your arms shook as you gripped the counter behind you for dear life, you were dying.

“Is that so?” Geto spoke in a hush. “Didn’t know this one had such a mouth on her. I think I know how to put it to better use to keep her from talking back…”

That’s it. You died. You were dead, right? There was no other possible, reasonable, believable explanation for how you got yourself stuck in this situation, pinned in place by a set of large hands and the striking stares of two illogically beautiful men who were just eating you alive.

“I–” you stammered. Forget speaking, you were straining to so much as breathe normally.

“Got nothin’ more to say, mochi?” The platinum boy whispered into your ear, hot breath brushing against sensitive skin and making you jolt. “Done bein’ a brat?”

You gaped at them with round, unblinking eyes, flickering back and forth between the two as they played Judge, Jury, and Executioner on your innocence – or lack thereof. You gulped with some difficulty, stunned into silence when Satoru cupped your cheek with a big, warm palm.

He’s touching me, oh, gods, what’s he doing, why is he getting closer–?

He swiped his thumb over the curve of your cheekbone, just under your eye, and pulled back only enough to show a smear of pink along the digit without moving an inch away from you. Batter – a spot must have gotten onto your face without you noticing.

While maintaining direct eye contact, he stuck his tongue out and salaciously pressed his finger onto it, sliding it down to spread the mixture onto the length of it, ensuring you witnessed every. Single. Micro. Movement. He closed his mouth, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he visibly swallowed, then his lips spread into an equally satyric smirk.

“I knew you’d taste sweet,” he purred and stepped back, leaving you disconcerted and dazed as he walked off like nothing happened, sitting back down at the island and picking up a conversation with Suguru.

You hadn’t even seen the other one move, let alone get the stand mixer down from the fridge and place it on the center of the marble countertop while they chatted about something you couldn’t hear past the shrill ringing in your ears and the deafening pumping of the stupid organ in your chest that refused to shut the hell up.

Time seemed nonexistent and all too pervasive as you took long seconds – or minutes? – to come back to yourself. Forgetting how to operate was a bizarre sensation, motor skills shot down as you went through a system reset.

You numbly gathered all the ingredients you needed, laying them out in a neat line that you, in full honesty, should not have been able to create with the way your hands vibrated. The boys seemed none the wiser to your plight, and you were thanking whatever remaining lucky stars you had that they weren’t pointing out what a fucking mess they turned you into in the span of less than a minute.

Buttercream.

Make the buttercream.

You’re fiiiiine, all good, mhm. Not like you had your entire spirit gashed right out your body by the primes of godliness across from you or anything, nope. You were a fully functioning, intelligent, strong, capable woman that wasn’t losing her absolute fucking shit.

You swear you heard laughter that distinctly resembled your mother’s, letting you know you were on your own with this one.

Traitor.

Willing your body to calm the hell down, you plugged in the mixer, messed around with it a bit, and got to making the filling for the macarons. You threw in the butter, watching it get tossed and beaten around until it succumbed to the paddle and became creamy and smooth.

Watching butter get pounded into submission was inherently satisfying to you, scratching some itch deep in the back of your skull.

You wondered what that said about you.

You glanced up at the boys and pinched your brows together. You shouldn’t think about potential kinks in front of them. For all you knew, they could read your mind. Best not to risk it, you could save that subject for later in solitude.

Or just stuff it in the ‘Problems to Deal With Later’ box you hid under your metaphorical bed with the rest of your dilemmas, never to be seen again. Whichever came first.

Vanilla extract…powdered sugar…sloooowly, now.

‘Slowly, now,’ he whispered in your ear and oh god oh fuck, you were fantasizing, nope, stop it, bad, fuck.

You bit the inside of your cheek hard, flinching at the pain. Phew, it brought you out of your imagination. You shamed your pussy for being a mindless whore. She couldn’t just wait until you were alone, huh? Had to humiliate you in front of the most unbearably sexy men you’ve ever seen?

Why am I like this.

“All good?”

You jumped with a startled squeak and saw Suguru inspecting you with a curious tilt and a knowing glint.

Crap, could he actually read your mind?

“Uh– yep! All good!” You affirmed a smidge too quickly and cleared your throat to drive away the squeaky chipmunk in your gullet.

Who needed lucky stars, anyway?

Satoru jutted his chin towards the counter behind you, where you left the tray. “Why didn’t you put it in the oven?”

Oh, sacred distractions, how you loved them.

“The batter needs to sit for a bit,” you told him. “Needs to form a layer around the outside called a skin. A little bit like a crust.”

“Cookies with a crust?”

“Not cookies,” you and Suguru corrected a second time, then you proceeded. “It’s to prevent the shell from cracking.”

“I’m surprised you haven’t guessed what it is she’s making yet,” Suguru commented, resting his temple against his fist. “You’re, like, the pastry expert here.”

You both watched as the gears visibly turned in Satoru’s head. He alternated between inspecting you, the mixer filled with now finished filling, and the untouched tray. He squinted, and then a lightbulb went over his head.

“Macarons!” He exclaimed, shooting upright with his Colgate teeth on display. “You’re making macarons!”

You cheered and clapped for him. “Hey, he got it! Good job!”

The boy lifted his chin and puffed out his chest like a proud peacock. “That explains why it’s taking so long.”

You deflated with a groan and rolled your eyes. “I find it hard to believe you’ll die just because you have to wait a couple hours.”

“Couple hours!?” He nearly shrieked.

“Is he always like this, Geto-san?”

Suguru was exceptionally entertained, you could practically feel it in his gaze and oh, shit, I know that look. “Only when he has a cute girl baking for him.”

Goddamnit.

Sly, accursed fox.

You really should stop talking, you just kept getting yourself into shit like this, where you had Olympian gods flirting with you and you couldn’t tell if they were being genuine or patronizing. Either way, it wasn’t good for your poor little core, nor your other core. Y’know, the messy one between your thighs that liked to cause you a lot of trouble. You weren’t sure where it got the audacity from.

Seditious bitch.

Okay, so, dodging them wasn’t working. What about playing into their games?

“Hmm, you know, I only agreed to do this because you asked,” you tapped your chin, speaking in a false trill.

Both tunneled in on you.

Ah, this was bad. Worse than willful ignorance.

“Which one of us, mochi?” Satoru queried. He acted so kind, so curious, but you could hear the underlying warning in his tone. Be careful how you answer.

“Can’t it be both?”

Air rumbled low in Suguru’s throat, danger flashed in Satoru’s eyes behind those filtered glasses, and you knew you were boned. And not the good kind of boned.

Mama, I’m doomed.

“Careful there” Suguru hissed, steepling his fingers and hiding his mouth behind them, as if fighting to maintain control of himself. “You’re playing with fire.”

You never were the biggest fan of things that were too hot. Blistering summers without a wind to balm your sere skin, campfires that only ever blew sticky smoke in your direction, tea too piping to sip at when you were parched.

But these boys, who had flames crackling and sparking in the bottomless pits of their pupils? You’d happily let them reduce you to ash.

“I like the heat,” you whispered and stuck your tongue out at them, then pulled off a switch in personality you, frankly, were not aware you were capable of. You went right back to being polite and well-mannered as you disconnected the paddle attachment for the standmixer, scraped off any buttercream stuck to it with a Maryse spatula back into the bowl, and stuck the bowl into the fridge to chill.

You heard Satoru curse as close to silently as he could, Suguru’s teeth audibly clenched, and you knew they were both trying to dare you to do something like that again by burning you with their glares. You paid them no mind – on the outside, at least.

Your insides, on the other hand, were a tangled disaster of nerves.

One part of you was questioning where you got the gall, the courage, the bravura, another was having a breakdown from your momentary valor evaporating, leaving you questioning what in the finest shite you were thinking. Oh, and, yes, how could you forget the part of you that was busy waterboarding your panties with far too much slick for it to be normal?

For fuck’s sake, all they did was say a few coy words, and it got you this heady? How far you’ve fallen. Tragic.

Fighting against needing to shift your shorts into a more comfortable position (which would be one hell of an ask since there wasn’t a spot untouched by your dew), you instead very feebly tapped a circle of batter on the tray with the tip of your finger, testing the shell strength. Thankfully, it seemed they were good to go, as none of the batter stuck to your pointer.

Satoru celebrated when he spotted you moving the tray to the clearly incredibly expensive (preheated) oven in his house. You slid it onto the rack, shut the door, and began fiddling with the settings until–

“Ah,” you clapped your fingers against the heel of your opposite hand, congratulating yourself for figuring out the timer. “15 minutes!”

“Finally!” Satoru exclaimed.

“Don’t get too excited yet, space cowboy,” you shut him down. “They’ll need to cool after that, and I’ll have to put in the filling next. Then they’ll be ready.”

He wailed and flattened his upper body across the island. “Whyyyyy?”

“It’ll feel like less time if we do something to distract you,” Suguru patted his upper back.

“I don’t wannaaaa,” he bleated like a wounded creature, attempting to garner sympathy points, as if that’d make the macarons bake faster. His head shot up, fingers pushing up his glasses that started to slip down. He reminded you of a grumpy rabbit, stomping his little (big) foot when his human angered him. “These macarons better be worth it.”

You pulled out one of the bar stools and wiggled onto it, your feet dangling high over the ground. “How long did you think it takes to make macarons?”

“I dunno, like, half an hour?”

“Aren’t you the pastry expert here?” You mused.

Satoru crossed his arms over his chest and lifted his nose pompously. “I’m a connoisseur, not a baker.”

“Maybe you should learn,” you proposed. “You’re good at cooking, right? You can probably pick up baking quickly, then you’ll have a greater understanding and appreciation for baked goods.”

Geto’s nose scrunched up. “That’s not a good idea.”

“Eh?” You batted your eyelashes. “Why?”

“If Ijichi is bad at baking, Satoru is catastrophic.”

The catastrophic baker tugged at the hairs on the back of his head as he avoided eye contact. “I set the kitchen on fire once, is that so bad?”

“How the fuck did you set the kitchen on fire with an oven?” You blanched.

“Oh, no, not the oven,” the noiret clarified. “He tried to fry the croissants. Insisted it’d make them ready to eat sooner.”

You paled like a ghost. “So– so, he, wait– wait, waitwaitwait, he tried to make croissants, the notoriously difficult to make viennoiserie, and thought frying them would be a good idea?”

“What’s a ‘viennoiserie’?” Satoru asked innocently.

“‘Nother word for pastry,” Suguru said, then addressed your question. “Yep, just about.”

You thwarted the desire to place your head in your hands and tug at the roots of your hair. “What the fuck.”

Satoru appeared torn between looking sheepish and looking peeved, not enjoying the criticism. “It was one mistake. I mean, really, I don’t get why you can’t let it go already.”

“He basically raided my pantry every day while his kitchen was getting doctored. He found my hidden stash of chocolate on day two and devoured enough to make himself sick, and then some,” his poor best friend said with a grimace. “It was hidden for a reason. But it did reveal how poorly my chocolate was concealed, so I upped the security on it. Thanks for that.”

“You don’t even eat sweets,” an allegation was thrown at him. “How can you hoard them? Selfish.”

“I hoard them because of you,” he faulted. “I like having them occasionally, and I’m saving you from cavities and tooth rot.”

Gojo squinched. “I brush my teeth very well, thank you kindly.”

“Remember when you got that one really bad cavity as a kid?”

“Oh, so, we’re just airing out dirty laundry, eh?” Satoru slammed his hands down on the marble. “Weren’t you the one that ate so much spicy ramen in grade school that you threw up and tore your esophagus?”

Suguru flinched and pressed his palm against the lower half of his face, blood draining from the top down. “Why’d you remind me.”

“Wait, what?” Your brows pushed up. “What happened?”

He sighed the sigh of an old man who was about to recount his whole life story for the millionth time. “I like spicy food–”

“Loves spicy food,” the other adjusted.

“–and was addicted to it as a kid. I had one too many spicy ramens when I was, I think, twelve or so? My stomach didn’t like that, and fought back with a vengeance. I had to go to the hospital and get a feeding tube put in while I waited for my esophagus to heal.”

You winced and sucked your teeth. “Yikes, I’m sorry.”

“Why are you sorry?” He relaxed, shifting his hand to support his chin. “I recovered and learned a valuable lesson.”

“Not that it stops him from devouring spicy food any chance he gets,” the towhead teased.

“I eat it in moderation.”

“At least two meals a day,” he shot back.

Suguru glared at him. “You’re no better. You practically live off of sugar, ninety percent of the stuff in your fridge is some kind of confectionary. Don’t get me started on the cupboards.”

You perked up, connecting a couple dots. “Oh, so that’s why I had to dig through, like, three mini cakes to find the eggs.” You slouched onto the counter. “What do you need three cakes for, anyway? Birthday coming up?”

Gojo merely shrugged. “I like cake. Ririka-san said she had extras she didn’t want to toss out and asked if I wanted them. You expect me to say no to that? It’s free cake.”

“You’re not exactly hurting for money, Satoru,” Geto sighed and rested his forehead on the webbing between his thumb and index finger. “But I suppose it did reduce waste, so, I guess it’s fine.”

“See?” He preened. “I’m a good person. I’m a great person.”

“Good people don’t say they’re good,” his friend deadpanned.

“This one does,” he hmphed, facing you and imploring your support, “don’t you think so?”

You pinched your chin and counted spots on the ceiling while humming, pondering. “You did take me in…but you’re kind of a whippersnapper…”

“Whippersnapper?” He gaped incredulously.

You pretended to not hear him. “Hmm…yeah, I’d say you’re a decent person.”

“Hah!” Satoru smacked the smooth surface underhand, beaming at your mutual companion. “See? What’d I tell ya!”

“Give it a few days,” Suguru warned you, his cheeks squeezing his eyes shut as they got pushed up by the corners of his mouth. Gods, that face was too cute.

You jolted when the oven timer went off and hurriedly rushed to check on the macarons. This step was vital – a minute too long or too short could spell demise for the treats. You cracked the door open a smidge, peeking through the gap to inspect them.

No cracks, crisp edges, cooked but not browned, perfect.

You turned off the oven and opened it fully, pulling on the silicone heat gloves to protect your skin, after which you eased the tray out and set it on top of the cooling rack nearby like you were handling pure gold.

Once they were balanced and safe, you threw off the gloves and belled, rhapsodic.

“Yippee! Now, we wait for them to cool, I add the filling, and they’ll be ready to eat!”

Your poor benefactor behaved the way a child would: pouting and bordering on a tantrum. “Come onnnn already.”

“He’s always like this, you said?” You turned to his best friend, who sent a sympathetic expression your way.

“Yes, and you’ll be living with him for the time being. I wish you the most sincere good luck I can muster.”

“Woooow, just throwing me to the wolves, huh? Er, wolf, singular,” you placed your hands on your hips.

Something flashed behind his pupils, his lips curling as he rested his chin on the back of his overlapped hands, and you felt a chill shoot up your spine.

Oh. Oh, dear.

His voice took on a husky croon, solidifying your place in hell. “Who said I’m not a wolf, too?”

Satoru blew air through his lips. “Oooh, edgy, how scary.”

“Shut it, Moon Moon,” Suguru snarled at him, all edge lost.

You involuntarily cackled at the lackluster insult. How fitting.

They certainly had the physiques of wolves. On the contrary, their personalities reminded you of cats. Or, rather, Satoru was a cat, and Suguru was a fox. His narrow, sly eyes had all the hallmarks of a kitsune in disguise, swishing tails hidden from sight, visible only to those enlightened. A stalker, one to hide in the bushes, crepuscular, using the depths of twilight to mask his measured movements.

Then there was Satoru.

A Ragdoll, made entirely of absurd amounts of fluff, sass, confidence, and a healthy dose of vainglory. An oversized animal that thought he was still a lap kitten, deserving of all your attention and energy. Trying to push him off your legs that were quickly losing blood supply was nothing short of criminal and a villainous sin.

Where the black fox was stealth and meticulous perspicacity, the Ragdoll was the type to walk into a room it knows you aren’t in and yell at the top of its lungs to summon you.

He’d steal your chair, just so you’re forced to interact with him, even if it meant shooing him out of the seat (assuming he’d be willing to give it up, which was often a resounding no). Your food? No, you’re mistaken, that’s his food, he’s just being charitable and altruistic by allowing you to eat it. You should have been thanking him with your forehead on the floor.

God-complex ass. Lovable ass – phrasing.

“Heyyyyy,” the lovable ass gave you puppy-dog eyes. “What flavor did you make the macarons?”

“Didn’t you get to taste the batter that was on my cheek?” You jammed away any lingering feelings bringing up that little incident might have tried to rear.

“It wasn’t enough,” he squalled. “C’mon, just tell me!”

You shook your head. “You’ll just have to wait. I gotta leave something a surprise, don’t I?” You doubted it’d be hard to guess, since you hadn’t gone out to buy any new flavor extracts.

“No!” Satoru shouted at the same time as Suguru said (much more calmly), “yes.”

The two boys scowled at one another, devil and angel respectively, tugging you in two directions.

There was a vague memory that flashed behind your eyes, though you weren’t sure if it truly was one. An inception, a memory of a memory of a dream forgotten erstwhile. A snapshot of two boys arguing that bore a remarkable resemblance to the ones before you. A ball tightly gripped, a threat heavy, a silence haunting.

It was gone as apace as it came, ceding only a ghost of a memento to a past you did not live.

Boys, you carped internally. At this point, it was definitely possible Satoru would combust if he didn’t get to stuff his mouth with your baked goods. Lucky for him, they were finally ready to be assembled, a task that went by surprisingly speedily.

Probably because they had shut up and let you focus, rather than distracting you. Two rows of sandwich halves flipped over, generous dollops of frosting applied after you packed it into a baggie, the other halves placed on top, and–

“Voila!” You sang as you carried the plate of neatly piled rounds of pink to the island. “Bon appétit, mes messieurs. J'espère que vous l'appréciez.”

“Oooh, French,” Gojo swooned as he studied the plate. “Tryin’ to seduce us, pretty girl?”

You picked up on his unexpected patience, having expected him to dive for the snacks once presented. “So, now you’re taking your time?” You crossed your arms.

He shushed you – “did you just shush me!?” – as he canted his head this way and that, observing the coralish-red pastries from every angle. “This is a vital part of the process. I’m checking the quality–”

“Satoru, I will beat your ass.”

“–and appearance. Presentation is important, ya know?”

The raven on the next seat over smacked him upside the head. “Would it kill you to have some semblance of courtesy and respect? She baked for you, try to be polite for once.”

Satoru growled as he rubbed the spot he was hit. “It’s called honesty. Some view it as the ultimate form of kindness. I heard it from a wise man once.”

Suguru’s brow twitched, irked by his audacity. “You can’t just quote your own words and call yourself wise.”

“I can, will, and did,” he proclaimed as he picked up one of the sandwiches and popped it into his mouth. Didn’t even bother to nibble or take a diligent bite, nope, right down the hatch it went.

You swear your adrenaline spiked at his reaction.

Satoru moaned like a college girl getting her cunt licked for the first time, good lord. The sound genuinely caught you completely off guard, impressed by how high-pitched his voice could go. You knew you were good at making them, but you weren’t sure they were that toothsome.

“I take back everything I said,” he confessed around the confection, still moaning. “The wait was so much more than worth it.”

“There’s no need to exaggerate to show your appreciation, either, Satoru. It comes off as insincere,” Suguru sniffled as he plucked up a sugary sandwich and examined it, holding it between his fingers. It looked comically small in his large grasp. “Though, I’m sure that…”

You could visualize his words dying on his tongue as he took a nibble and stiffened in place, bewilderment dawning on him. Each character tumbled away, lost on the same path his train of thought vanished on.

Shit.

That response was bad. Right? It had to be bad, nothing joyous came from–

“Wow…”

“Right?” Satoru exclaimed loudly, clapping the man on the back. “Right!? And you thought I was exaggerating.”

“I stand corrected,” Suguru maundered. He stared down at his half-eaten food as if it held all the answers in the world.

Then proceeded to shove it in his mouth and snatch up a second one.

You were baffled, flattered, and skeptical. “You guys don’t have to pretend they’re good if you don’t like them.”

They paused mid-chew to pin you in place with their intense, dumbfounded veneration, and you regretted ever opening your mouth.

Gojo was acting like a man trapped in the middle of Death Valley during summer who stumbled across the one oasis that happened to not be a delusional mirage created from dehydration, heat stroke, and the blistering weather. His eyes, wide and unblinking, refused to move off of your face, like you’d just told him that, no, we can’t stop at the oasis for a sip of water.

Geto wasn’t any better. You got the sense that he would’ve taken less offense if you’d called his mother a monkey. Which is a hell of a leap, since you were talking about baked goods.

“You’re kidding, right?” Your host garbled around his food.

“You don’t have to act humble,” the other man disapproved. “These are really good. We aren’t lying.”

Your lips scrunched to the side in apprehension. Were they trying to spare your feelings? You were…distracted several times during the process. Maybe you added salt instead of sugar? Was powdered salt even a thing?

You wouldn’t know unless you tried them for yourself. You filched one, analyzed it, and took a cautious, tiny, itty-bitty nibble. Followed by a second, much larger chomp and released a relieved purl when nothing but berry treacliness met your tongue.

You weren’t a worldstar chef by any means, but, ugh, you did make some pretty rockin’ macarons.

Satoru and Suguru obviously shared your sentiment – the first one even more so, and he wasn’t shy about showing it. Were they worth sounding like he just had the best orgasm of his life? Debatable, but you weren’t going to take that away from him.

Sure, you were enabling his sweet tooth to hell and back, but it meant you got to stay under a safe roof and beneath the cushy blankets of the guest room bed.

His enjoyment was a reward in its own right, too.

You’d make these every day if he wanted, if only to see the gleam of the pure, intoxicated, glucose-induced high in his dilated pupils.

Sugar was to him what catnip was to a kitty. Which was a dangerous realization for you. You’d have to tread the line of confections-related conversations carefully, lest you land yourself a job as his personal at-home baker.

Which actually wasn’t all that bad of an idea. You’d get to chill in a mansion with a hot spring in the backyard, cozily nestled higher up in the valley. It was decently cloistered, you could forget the existence of that stack of sticks under your name, and, hey, you might get away with not needing to pay rent! Win-win for everyone involved.

No, you were not willing to discuss the logistics behind that. Let a girl daydream, ladies deserve to fantasize about the wildest shit. Like becoming a sugar baby without needing to do anything nefarious. Was it so wrong to want to be spoiled?

A little voice, high-pitched and frightened, clued you in on a little clause in any contract you might consider signing: do not tie me down.

Alright, a little rephrasing was needed, then: was it so wrong to want to be spoiled, without the risk of being forced to remain in that position indefinitely?

Normally, you experienced a tightness in your chest when those kinds of words filtered into your consciousness, making a sense of cold spread from your solar plexus to your fingertips. It instantly changed your mood, made you go from cheery to withdrawn.

Your soul housed a violent anathema whose sole purpose was to torment you with the notion that nowhere is safe. You can’t stay here, you can’t stay there, you can’t stay anywhere.

It reminded you of that one immortal snail hypothetical. No matter where you went, it would always follow you.

If that was the case, then, where was that feeling now?

The bickering boys in front of you, the idyllic mountains that curtained the shallow canyon, this cozy home and the terrifying one you owned, why didn’t they spur that fight-or-flight instinct in you? What was different about Japan, about this location?

Why did breathing feel so easy?

…How long would this sovranty last?

You elbowed aside that conversation for another time. You were going to enjoy every moment of this while you could. If you were at peace, you weren’t going to sabotage that. It was unique, foreign. No area, no city, no home had ever brought you this kind of emptiness in your head, and you were desperate to hold onto that feeling, to milk it dry.

Starting with this little moment of domesticity, sharing food with your…friends?

Friends. Friends who took a great liking to what you made with your own two hands.

You should sneak some away from Satoru to give to Granny, Shoko, and Utahime before he ate them all.

Oh, speaking of.

“Hey, Satoru,” you called out.

“Hm?”

“Are you and Iori-san exes?”

He ‘hah’d and Suguru coughed on his snack, nearly suffocating. “Nah, she wishes.”

You raised a brow. “She seems like she hates your guts.”

“She’s just jealous of my devilishly good features.”

Not trusting his story, you turned to Suguru, who was patting his chest. Bless the boy, he was always there to shed light on the truth.

With regards to making fun of Satoru, anyway.

“He antagonizes her,” he told you after choking down the frosting he partially inhaled. “Spends every second bullying and annoying her anytime they’re near each other. She also swings the other way.”

“Ahh, gotcha,” you thanked him, stepped over to Satoru, and flicked his forehead. You chided him as he clutched the spot with his hands and fussed dramatically. “Be nice to Iori-san!”

“Wh–” He glared up at you. “She’s just as mean! Why aren’t you shaming her?”

You planted your hands on your hips. “She’s your senior. Respect your elders.”

He jutted out his lower lip. “That’s so not fair. Aren’t elders supposed to be setting good examples for their kouhai? It’s her fault I’m like this!”

You and Suguru displayed twin deadpan lours. Raised brows, narrowed eyes, the whole nine yards.

Satoru grimaced. “Ugh, ew, don’t do that, that’s creepy.”

“What’s creepy?” You asked, perplexed.

“You two are matching, it’s weird.”

Suguru gave you a sidelong glance that you returned, judging the validity of Satoru’s claim.

You cracked first.

The edges of your mouth twitched and you pressed them together into a thin line, jaw tensing as you tried to maintain your composure. The corner of his mouth pulled up a millimeter and you popped, giggling against your hand as you faced away.

He shook his head and chuckled, the noise balmy and charming.

An amicable silence fell between the three of you, filled only with muted chewing and the occasional appreciative drone.

It may well have been inadvisable on your part to fall under the spell of the alluring siren that called you to drown in the depths of comfortable mundanity, to breathe in liquid mercury in the form of idle acceptance, but how could you not?

When you had two magnetic entities drawing you in, giving you a taste of something so normal and natural when all you’d ever known before was diffidence, could you really be blamed for willingly closing your eyes and falling backwards off the cliff that once kept your footing stable? Could you be faulted for the rush of pure adrenaline that coursed through your veins when you gave in after resisting for so long and got to feel the wind bosoming your form the way a lover would?

You knew the ground was speeding up to break your fall, to eviscerate you, turn you into dust made of microscopic shards of glass, but you had plenty of time to pull the cord to your parachute. A little indulgence never hurt.

Right?

─────•(-•ʚɞ•-)•─────

“Good girl,” a voice murmured in your ear, sultry and seductive, praising you while you suckled lewdly on a pair of fingers that tasted sweet and rich and distinctly of berries. It sent chills all over your body, from your scalp, down your spine, all the way to your curled toes. “So needy, aren’t you?”

You nodded vehemently, breath hitching as plush lips traced the curve of your ear. You sucked harder, laving your tongue around and between the prodding appendages.

A different voice, no less enchanting and blazing, came from the figure that draped himself across your back, one arm wrapped around your midsection, his skin igneous against yours. “Greedy brat,” he cooed, his tresses of ivory tickling your temple and cheek. He slowly pulled his soaked fingers from your mouth, spreading them to display your saliva webbing between. “Just one man isn’t enough for you, huh? Need two to cure your insatiability? To fuck you stupid?”

“I–” you gasped, words caught in the back of your throat and fizzling away when his warm hand grasped your breast, wet digits pinching your nipple between his index and middle fingers. “Oh– fuck.”

Black kite eyes occupied your blurry vision, a bewitching smile lifting the corners of his lips. He came off as virtuous, a god amongst men, but the pure and raw hunger in his eyes promised only your corruption.

A fallen angel, a deity that chose to paint his feathers midnight, to dive into the allure of sacrilege and build a throne for himself to sit upon. He chose to rule over this ungodly land of heathens and desires. To pull you down to the depths with him, that was his purpose.

His eyes vowed to drown you in them, to make you as lecherous for them as they were for you. To make you yearn and crave and need them. To have them pressed against your body, invading your veins, speaking sweet nothings into the bottomless, most primal part of you until you could think of nothing and no one but them.

His scorching fixation drew you to him, the elfin star reaching to be coaxed into his gravity, to be torn apart at the atoms by his bare hands.

The presence behind you was just as cosmic, tugging you the other way, trapped within a binary astral system that encircled you until all you knew, and would ever need to know, was their names. You were ensnared in their push and pull, hands held by each of theirs, pressed between leviathan celestial bodies, and there was nowhere else you’d rather to be.

You were Persephone to their Hades, both holding one half of the same pomegranate, tempting you to bite into each. A silent urge to sink your teeth into the rich fruit, let the acidic, covenant-binding juice of gods flow into your core, spread through your entire being until you belonged to them and they belonged to you.

You hungered for it, wished to see and feel the coquelicot essence of the berry spill from your lips, curve over your chin, drip onto your bare breasts like fresh blood.

You wished to have their tongues on your flesh, licking the circumfluous juice as if it was the ichor of life itself.

Deft hands slipped between your thighs, prying them apart. Cool air brushed against your flushed, dripping womanhood, drawing a sharp inhale from you. You squirmed when the hand on your breast shifted to tease and torment your other nipple, the arm still holding your midsection loosening enough to allow strumming fingers to walk down your stomach.

Past your navel, across your womb, over your mons, until–

You chirped when the pad of his middle finger slid through your heavily slicked folds and pressed directly onto your hypersensitive clit, lightly pushing back the hood to expose more of it, all on display for the raven before you.

The swan chuckled deeply against your back, sending the vibrations directly through your ribs and into your stuttering heart. “So sensitive,” he drawled, nipping at your pulse through the tender skin of your throat. “We barely even touched you and you’re already soaked, princess.”

Firm palms massaged your thighs, ensuring they stayed open, forbidding you from covering yourself. You were theirs to watch, to toy with, to covet and fuck and ruin.

“Our poor, pretty angel. Desperate,” a wicked laugh escaped from lush lips that hovered just over your own, so close yet so far beyond reach.

“P-Please,” you shivered and whined when the finger on your burning, twitching button circled it lazily. “Fu-uck.”

“Use your words, sweetheart,” one of them instructed you – you no longer knew where they began and you ended. “Tell us what you want, and we might reward you.”

You took in a shaky, uneven breath, attempting to steady your voice. Hell, to find it at all. “Y-You. Need you. Please, gods– ah!”

“Which one, love?”

“Both! Both– both of you,” you choked out, bucking your hips against the hand cupping your heat. It wasn’t enough, you needed more, you needed them. All of them, every inch, every fraction of their beings melding with yours.

“Really, now?” A hot breath fluttered over your ear. “Such a spoiled little lover. Are you sure you can handle both of us?”

“Yes– oh, god – yes, please, ple-ase!”

You could feel their voices more than you could hear. One’s chest was flush to your spine, your nails digging into his forearms. The other breathed your air and gifted you with his own, a promise that you were only able to fill your lungs with oxygen because he allowed it.

This was hell. It had to be. They were so close, so fucking close, but they weren’t giving you what you wanted. You asked so nicely, begged them, you were impatient, aching for them to the point it hurt.

“If you say so,” he – who? – huffed, amused. “Let’s find out, shall we?”

Their warmth and scents mixed with your own, blistering against your damp skin, scalding you from the inside out, and how ready you were to plunge into the waves of magma below. You were doomed the very moment you said yes, from the second your eyes met theirs. You were destined to fall from the heavens into their cocooning embrace, and you willingly leapt from the clouds, chasing after them where they awaited you with open arms.

The set of fingers on your clit left to graze your entrance in ringlets that were far too languid for your liking; another grasped your chin between them, tilting your head up to peer into vortices of lust, venery, and depravity, threatening to suck you in and never let you leave.

What they didn’t say in words, they commanded with their searing idées fixe; they molded you into the perfect doll for them, the captivating nymph that curled her fingers towards herself, luring them to join her in the goddess’ blessed pond.

He leaned in, his soft pants fanning over your lips, right there, a millimeter more, almost–

You startled awake with a gasp, shooting upright onto your palms as you struggled to inhale and exhale properly. A thin sheen of sweat covered your entire body, making your exposed skin shimmer under the moonlight pouring in from your window.

Your heart raced in your chest, and you took long seconds to grasp your bearings and figure out exactly what occurred. Your heavy lids batted, trying to ease the grit from them. Everything remained fuzzy, recollection failing you…

As you began to calm down, you shifted your legs and abruptly stopped, cringing. The answer came like a slap to your tit.

You weren’t just wet, you were submerged.

Someone could squeeze water out of a rag and it'd still be less wet than you. You were utterly sopping, soaked right through your panties, a sticky mess of slick coating your pussy and the insides of your thighs.

Great.

This forsaken song and dance again.

Your cunt throbbed, clenching and mourning the loss of your high. Your nipples were painfully stiff, your clit screamed for attention, and all you could do was fall back on the bed and spread out your arms in defeat.

A wet dream. You had a fucking wet dream. And not just any wet dream, no, of course not. Nothing in life was ever simple. Not for you, never for you.

You groaned and pressed your hands against your face, trying to wrest away the image of Suguru and Satoru drawing you thin between them, turning you into a babbling, pleading mess, pining for the attention of your gods. The heels of your palms dug into your eyes until spots appeared, but all that did was make the images more clear.

Hell. Now what?

Feeling particularly uncomfortable, you chose to start by shimmying your panties off and tossing them into your hamper without getting up, exhaling heavily as you glowered at nothing in particular and zoned out.

Sure, you could try to go back to sleep, pretend it was possible and that you’d return to happy, not-lewd dreamland, act like your disgustingly blasphemous subconscious didn’t create the hottest dream you’ve ever had, but you knew that wasn’t going to work.

You grabbed your phone and squinted at the screen when you checked the time. 4:17 AM. Taking a bath at this hour would probably wake someone in the house. The better option was to grab a hand towel and use the sink to wipe yourself off, then lay awake and scroll mindlessly through your phone until you inevitably passed back out.

But…you felt so empty. And so fucking horny, it genuinely hurt. You didn’t know it was even possible to get this aroused, and you were paying the cost for it.

You worried your bottom lip between your teeth, nipping at the dry skin. Your fingers twitched at your side, fighting a war, debating.

…Once would be okay, right? Just once, to fix yourself up and get rid of any lingering ideas you had about the two boys. Yeah, that was okay. Probably. It’s not like they were going to know anyway, and you could go back to sleep after you took care of your…needs, then wake up as if none of this ever happened.

Alright. Yeah. Yeah, that’s fine. That’s the plan.

You swallowed thickly, noticing how viciously parched you were, but that could wait until you were done.

Your fingers tapped apprehensively against your stomach, yenning yet still uncertain. They trailed lower and lower, following the same path from your belly button to the apex of your thighs Satoru had taken in your delusion. A quickie. You’d be fast, and then forget this entirely.

You sucked in a hiss through your clenched teeth when your icy fingers brushed against your tender, swollen clit that was weeping for attention. Jesus, when was the last time you were this sore? This irriguous? Had you ever been?

You couldn’t tell if your fingers being cold made it worse or better. You weren’t sure why they were so frigid when the rest of you was combusting. All you could remember was a large, warm hand and addicting digits toying with you. This simply wasn’t sufficient in comparison – quite literally opposite in every way – but it was all you had to work with, so it would need to do.

You swore as you began rubbing the ticklish bundle in quick circles, your free hand swiftly shoving itself under your shirt to grasp your breast. You pinched, tugged, and twisted your nipple between your thumb and forefinger, lamenting the lack of satisfaction. It wasn’t fucking enough. Your digits felt too stiff, too glacial, for what you really wanted – what you urgently, critically, dolorously required.

You rubbed faster, pressed that sorry little nub down harder, dug your nails into your nipple, Christ, you were going to cry.

Why, why, why? You were right fucking there, on the cusp, more than ready to tumble off the cliff and let the swift fall break you into a million pieces.

Please, please, please! Please, fuck, just let me cum!

What were you missing? You had no trouble with this in the past, your hand was your best friend, now it was betraying you. Was your cunt too slippery? Was the frost of your touch driving your orgasm away? What was–

Your stilled as a sinful, dreadful thought crossed your mind.

This…all of this was caused by them. Not directly, but by proxy. It was because you were dreaming of them that you landed in this messy, painful spot. Your body forced you out of your own dream, effectively cutting off your lifeline of pleasure.

So, what if you…

You shook your head, winced, reconsidered, then repeated that process about a dozen more times. If you vowed that all this would remain here, in this moment, then there wasn’t really any harm in it, no?

You squeezed your eyes shut tight and slowly picked up the pace again, squirming under your own ministrations. You let yourself draw pictures behind your lids, visualizing the pair of boys, pretending it was their hands on you instead of your own. You picked up where your dream left off, the tick before Suguru’s lips were on yours.

His hands massaging your thighs, teeth nipping at the tip of your tongue, kurobeni locks tickling your forehead and cheeks – it was shockingly realistic in sensation.

Satoru was playing your body like a harp, drawing and pulling on the threads of your being, strumming them until he was the reason you were writhing and panting and moaning in subdued notes on your bed that took more effort to contain than you’d ever care to admit.

Your high came mind-numbingly soon. Where you had been trying to wrench it from yourself with immense difficulty a minute ago, now you were teetering over the edge. You only had to do a smidgen more to reach your freefall.

It came naturally to you.

Whined, breathy, pitchy, louder than you had any permission to be, you uttered the two names that sent you careening from elysium’s clouds.

“Mmph– S-Sat-toru, Sugu–”

You were fairly certain you saw the eternal gardens of Eden somewhere between that nanosecond and the next.

You broke like an over tightened violin bow, the hand twinging your tit shooting up through the collar of your shirt to slam against your mouth barely in time to muffle the piercing cry that tried to fly out from your bitten lips. Your muscles tensed, trembling violently. Your hips bucked against your hand, your back curved further than you thought possible, and your pussy squeezed around nothing so tightly that you believed if anything had been inside you, your pelvic floor would have cut off its circulation.

You rode out your ascent and dive for as long as you could, dragging it out with unsteady, arrhythmic, back-and-forth massaging on your twitching, overstimulated button until you lost all steam and flopped back onto the mattress, hands separating from your body like glue.

You panted heavily, staring up at the ceiling blankly, sprawled out as you tried to catch your breath. Your head was empty, limbs still shivering with aftershocks of the strongest orgasm you’ve had in a while.

You brought your arm over your face, watching your fingers glisten with your slick as you wiggled them around. The wetness sticking to your cunt and thighs was growing more and more uncomfortable by the second, too slippery without purpose for being so. The sheer amount of honey you produced was a disturbance on its own, but now you had to deal with the mess you made between your legs, on top of your post-nut clarity.

You needed God.

“What is wrong with me…” You mumbled as you rolled over to climb off the bed, feeling particularly disgusted with yourself. How the hell were you supposed to face Satoru and Suguru now that you had rubbed yourself off to the thought of not one, but both of them?

Shit, all of this because of that godsforsaken dream.

You shuddered, heat flashing through your body at the memory, and you quickly smothered the kindling. You weren’t hankering for a second orgasm at this time.

You wiggled off the edge and eased yourself onto rickety legs, using the mattress for support while you gained back your strength. You turned cautiously to check the sheets, and nearly collapsed in relief when you found no evidence of the heinous crime you just committed atop it.

God bless, you wouldn’t have to deal with trying to sneak the sheets into the laundry without getting caught, or come up with a passable lie to explain that the oddly damp and sticky patch wasn’t the remnants of your orgasm, nuh-uh, nope, not at all.

You weren’t a very good liar when put on the spot.

Little victories.

You crept around, tugging the hem of your shirt down over your thighs as you located things to freshen up with, thankful that the article of clothing was long and baggy enough to cover your shame. The moon, round and silver, lit up your room a smidge too clearly for your liking. You really didn’t want to see yourself in any way for the time being.

The hall, unlike your room, was sorely lacking in light.

With a small towel and a change of panties in hand, you carefully eased open your door, and glanced both ways like you were a child sneaking off to steal candy from the kitchen. It was crepuscular as fuck, but you had to ensure there wasn’t anyone who could see in the dark. Unreasonable line of thought, but who cares.

Coast clear.

You booked it towards the bathroom on the tips of your toes, rushing as soundlessly as you could to dive behind the door to safety. You didn’t let yourself breathe until you closed and locked the barrier with minimal noise. Mission successful.

Your eyes squeezed shut at the suddenness of the bright light flooding the bathroom when you flicked the light switch, your fingers scurrying to hit the dimmer and un-blind yourself. Bleh. Pain.

After your eyes adjusted to the light, you took one glance at yourself in the mirror, in all your mussed-up-hair and flushed-cheek glory, and instantly swiveled your head away. If your face wasn’t burning before, it certainly was now.

Your reflection would just have to remain a mystery until you could stand to look yourself in the eyes again. Which could take a long while.

“You depraved bitch,” you muttered to yourself scornfully as you turned on the sink, waited until the water was hot, and dunked the towel in it. “Goddamn slut. One was bad enough, but two?”

You worked quickly to wipe the tacky smears from your skin at the crest of your thighs, fussing and reprimanding yourself all the way through.

Unfortunately, as much as you wanted it, your shower would have to wait until morning. You feared boiling the shame off your flesh at this hour would be too conspicuous. You grimaced as the fibers of the cloth rubbed a smidge too harshly against your tender sensory nerves, and you took extra care to not aggravate your horniness again.

The band of your panties snapped against your hips, grounding you further, and you decided you’d been punished enough (for now).

Back in your room, you flopped onto the bed face down, abnormally fatigued. The forbidden rendezvous in the eclipse of the waking world and following nutty nut (heh) wiped you out from head to toe. Not bothering to pull the blanket back over your yet-to-cool-down figure, you nuzzled into your pillow, and conked the hell out.

─────•(-•ʚɞ•-)•─────

You had mixed feelings on how rested you felt when you woke up.

On one hand, it was delightful to open your eyes and feel energized after a yawn and a ferocious cat stretch, but the way you got there made it feel like an undeserved good night’s sleep.

You mulled over it as you zoned out in front of the pot on the stove while you waited for the buckwheat you tossed in to finish cooking.

Technically speaking, you did use the boys to get your rocks off, but could that really qualify for the ‘morally incorrect’ category when it was not soundly your fault? It’s not like you sat down and had a heart-to-heart discussion with your brain and pussy about giving into your perversion within the safety of your insanity.

Okay, insanity was a stretch, and definitely an over exaggeration, but it was your best excuse. Some cog had to have been knocked loose in your thick skull for you to succumb to your cravings the way you did.

Or, you know, you argued with yourself, maybe it’s because you live with a stupidly hot guy and he has a stupidly hot best friend? Is it really so hard to imagine you’d get horny over a couple of model-worthy men?

Yes. Yes, it is.

You ran your hand through your hair as you switched off the heat on the stove, deeming the seed ready, and retrieved a bowl from a nearby cupboard.

You weren’t one to fall so low. If you masturbated to anyone, which was already rare as gold, it was some rando on a porn site. You didn’t know them, they didn’t know you – hell, they didn’t know you existed for starters. Free content without being perceived, win-win for everyone.

What curse infected your system last night to make you do the things you did?

Gods, it was a really good orgasm, though.

It sat on the forefront of your mind the whole morning as you went through your routine. As you showered, got dressed, washed your face, brushed your teeth, and now, as you made what was basically brunch given the hour. You were having a tug-of-war with yourself, which was cool and all, but why the hell were Satoru and Suguru the ones on your shoulders debating your moral compass?

Debating was generous. It was more so Suguru reassuring you, telling you that it was alright, just a miscue in your judgement, everyone had a moment like that at least once or twice in their life. Satoru, meanwhile, took great delight in howling like an incubus and teasing you relentlessly about your misfortune.

Neither were actively discouraging you from being a degenerate, but you pined for death regardless.

Unintelligible inveighs spilled from your lips, aimed at nobody in particular as you scooped the buckwheat into your bowl, poured milk in with it, and sprinkled sugar overtop. You were mildly gratified to see Gojo had the seed, as your childhood comfort meal would aid in overcoming your newfound psychological complications.

“What's that?” Gojo's voice scared the balls off you as he spoke directly into your ear, bowing over your back. You physically felt them pop off and roll away like wayward marbles, never to be seen again.

Metaphorically. And–

Oh, god, Gojo.

How the hell does a giraffe manage to move around like a mouse?

You can do this. This is fine. You totally didn’t have a sex dream about him and his best friend, not at all, how could anyone dare to think so? You only had to act normal. Act good, this was normal, you were normal. It wasn't weird. It's only weird if you make it w–

“Buckwheat cereal,” your mouth answered for you. You suppressed the urge to sag in relief when nothing atrocious came out of it. “It's good for you.”

“...Explain.”

You angled your head to face him, fighting down the gasp and blush that wanted to spark to life at his proximity. Oh, he was, like, right there. “It's cereal…but with buckwheat.”

A frown marred his pretty face. “Is it sweet?”

“To everyone's taste. But for how I make mine, yes.”

“Lemme try.”

Your body moved on its own without any instruction – or permission – from your nervous system. You scooped up a spoonful of the cereal and brought it to his mouth as he stayed positioned behind you.

Which was a horrible fucking mistake.

His hands grasped your hips to hold you steady as he actually said ‘nom’ and closed his luscious, puffy, pink lips around the utensil.

Oh, my god.

If you thought the dream was bad.

He pulled away from it, though didn't retract his hands as he contemplated your choice in food, chewing slowly. He gulped too freaking loud, and beamed childishly. “More.”

You scoffed and lightly bumped your hips back into his, pulling a muffled grunt from him (oops). “Get your own. There's plenty on the stove.”

You weren’t sure if it was reprieve or disappointment that filled you when he released you and stepped away, inspecting the pot on the stove. “How do you make it?”

“Scoop some into a bowl, add milk and sugar. Boom, buckwheat cereal.”

“Is it really that simple?”

You snorted. “Yes, Satoru, it is. The only ‘hard’ part is cooking the ‘wheat itself, which is kinda like making rice.”

“Huh,” the boy vocalized as he followed your instructions. “Won’t the milk make it cold, though? Or is it supposed to be?”

“Again, it’s to everyone’s taste. You can heat up the milk if you want it to be warm. Buckwheat is surprisingly versatile,” you briefed. “High in fiber, antioxidants, anti-inflammatory, and – now that I think about it, it could be especially good for you, since it can help manage blood sugar levels.”

“Nerd,” he quipped.

You scoffed as you spooned some into your mouth and oh shit, oh fuck, this was the same spoon he used, was this an indirect kiss? Was this weird? He didn’t seem to care as he grabbed his own utensil and propped himself up against the counter with his lower back.

This is fine, you said as you banged your head repeatedly on the walls of your mental prison.

Pretend, pretend, pretend. Confidence was basically just really good lying. “Excuse me for being weirdly curious and just collecting random fun facts.”

He quirked a brow, eating up his own bowl. “Oh, that’s it?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Satoru plainly shrugged. “Thought you might have been someone obsessed with nutrition facts or something.”

“I mean, I try to be a little careful about what I eat, but I’m not gonna sit and make calculations on every little thing I shove down my throat.”

A cruel sort of evilness curled the corners of his lips. “Is that so?”

You were going to shoot him one of these days for making you nearly inhale a kernel. Figuratively, duh, but nevertheless. Or perhaps literally. Whichever came first.

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re annoying?” You probed.

His grin grew, as if this was something he was proud of. “Plenty, but none as cute as you.”

What a novel and unique method for making your cereal hot, using you as a human fucking conductor. No wonder the messy thing between your legs controlled your subconscious. It was Satoru’s fault all along.

You felt a mite less guilty about using his face as spank bank material.

“I’ll add ‘incorrigible flirt’ to the record, then,” you chuntered.

“And ‘good looks’,” he inputted.

You mimed writing. “E-go-tis-tic and con-cei-ted…”

“Oi!” He jutted out his lower lip. “O’, cruel temptress, you wound this one. You’re lucky I like you.”

A sizable chunk of your food attempted to get stuck in your throat, forced down only by sheer will alone. You froze, waiting for the world to collapse, for the walls to cave in, for the adrenaline to drown you in anxiety, for the air-raid sirens to start blaring. You waited, and waited, and waited.

Nothing came from his confession. It was a light, playful thing, sort of meaningless in the grand scheme of things. Your fight-or-flight had been triggered by less before, but…

Two seconds was all you allowed yourself to hesitate for, lest you look the fool. Two seconds of atypical…normalcy.

“You’ve known me for, what, three days?” You pointed out.

Satoru scraped up the last bit of his food and placed the bowl down to rest his weight on his elbows that he set on the marble surface behind him. “I’ve got good instincts. Gut feeling says you’re interesting, and I like your vibes. That’s all I need,” he disclosed.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t feel the same way. He was…easy, for lack of a better word. Talking to him came effortlessly, with lively chatter and content silence in the gaps between conversations.

Trust your gut instincts.

“Feeling’s mutual,” you admitted, softer.

That earned you a brilliant smile, stretched from ear to ear, and it made something docile and tender flutter in your heart. Not the rapid palpitations of attraction or flusteredness, no. Rather, it resembled a tea light, something mellow and snug.

Seeing him happy makes you happy.

You didn’t get long to dwell on it. “Hey, you still wanna use the onsen?”

His invitation wiped out all your brooding thoughts like a whipping gale, replacing it all with sheer zeal and glee. The moment you’d been waiting for! Now you didn’t have to awkwardly ask!

“Uh, yes? Hello? Is that even a question?” You gawked.

The pale-haired man simpered as he took your bowl from you – oh, when did that get empty? – and nodded towards your room. “Got a swimsuit?”

Thank the ever blooming stars above, you did.

“Yes!” It was taking everything in you to not start bouncing around like an overjoyed rabbit. The urge to zoomies was strong with this one.

“Great! There’s a shower outside and on the right, just past the partition when you go out the back,” he instructed. “Tradition calls for bathing in the nude, but I’ll spare you from that this time.”

Fuck ye– this time?

You were already moving along, shouting a high pitched ‘thank you!’ over your shoulder as you darted towards your room to retrieve a towel and your bathing suit, forfeiting your chance to voice that concern aloud. He was likely teasing you anyhow, and there was only so much flirting you could take before you’d combust.

You had no intention of testing your mental fortitude. Not until you got to turn into a boneless puddle of jelly beans in the onsen.

Was there some way to see a scoreboard of your times for ripping off your clothes? Because you were fairly certain this time would contend for first place with the time you tried the shower here for the first time. And, on top of that, you know that cute swimsuit you got eons ago, thinking you’d have a ‘hot girl summer’, only to never once wear it? You finally had a reason to pull it on and pose in front of the mirror in your room!

A tad late (or early?) for a hot girl summer, but damn, you looked good.

Satoru was nowhere to be seen when you skedaddled out of your as-of-current sanctuary, which permitted you to jog across the house to the back door on your tiptoes like a villain in a cartoon. You even did the evil little giggle, too.

The trees surrounding the backyard provided abundant protection from any potential gales, but the shade they shed made goosebumps rise all over your body from the chill, urging you to speed over to where the outdoor shower was to race your ass into the hot spring.

The shower itself was gorgeous. Dark, slat-wood tiles acted as protective walls, giving you decent privacy for a quick rinse. And the water?

Heaven.

Your only experience with outdoor showers before had been those super shitty beach ones, the type that half-sprayed, half-poured freezing cold water on you that did fuck all to get any sand or dirt off you. Plus, they were out in the middle of the beach anyway, so you’d end up getting sand on your soles afterwards anyway.

You were not expecting the water to be heated, or the ground to be free of debris (how far your standards have fallen), or anything beyond just a pole that water came out of.

Rich people. You gotta suck up to them more often, dignity be damned.

But you had a delightful bonus! You didn’t have to suck up to Satoru for these benefits! It remained to be seen what you would have to do after your free trial expired, but three days in, and you were more than ready to suck his dick to keep sitting pretty and living the life.

Okay, too far, but could you be blamed?

No. Most certainly not. No, you were not open for debate on this. You knew anyone else would think the same.

You hosed yourself down as thoroughly as your impatient self could handle, lest you perish before you got the chance to get a taste of rapture. Apparently, though, Satoru was faster.

Shock-white hair, dripping at the tips that had already begun collecting steam, alerted you to his presence as you tossed your towel onto a nearby bench. You had turned into a shivering mess in the seconds it took you to walk over and you were greatly looking forward to the deliciously painful sting that came from transitioning into hot water while cold.

He tilted his head back with that giraffe neck of his, the curious ‘oh’ of his mouth maturing into a smirk big enough to make dimples appear in his cheeks.

“There you are!” He called out. “You took forever, thought you slipped and died or something. Get in already, the temp is purrrrfect.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice,” you retorted as you sat down on the edge of the basin and dipped your feet in, hissed like a demonic cat wrangled from hell, then slipped in completely. Shudders wracked up your entire body, scalding you from head to toe – ah, but then, bliss. “Fuuuckkk…”

“Feels good, right?” He chortled and you nodded, your eyes slipping shut.

“God, it feels so good,” you slurred out contentedly as you sank down lower into the wonderfully hot piscina. You set the underside of the back of your skull on the ledge behind you and let yourself turn into a happy little jellyfish. “You’re so lucky.”

Satoru scoffed. You peeked one eye open. “I don’t actually get the chance to use it all that much nowadays.”

Your lips pursed in a pout. “Why not? You rich kids don’t have to work, right?”

“I am the heir to the Gojo clan,” he reinformed you. “My dad’s still kickin’, so he does all the major shit, thankfully, but I basically have to be on-call. Boring ass meetings, talking to even more boring ass people about,” he rotated his hand in a general all of this motion, “boring ass shit.”

You sat up properly, suddenly hyper aware of your position and whose company you were in. “Is it difficult?”

He tipped his head side to side, working out a crick. “Eh, nothing I can’t handle. I’ve known I’ll eventually inherit the family business since I was a kid, so I’ve been exposed to it all pretty much since the day I could walk.”

Guilt was knocking on the door of your sternum. Lifelong misconceptions of trust fund babies led you to have a mild prejudice against them. Social media didn’t help, with all sorts of platforms hosting blogs for the filthy rich who posted all hours of the day. Were all rich kids destined for the same, or was it only a few, like Satoru?

How could a petty commoner like you ever hope to understand?

You could start by learning.

“What’s the family business, if you don’t mind me asking?” You scooted closer.

“Politics,” he said as he propped his arms up on the stone behind him. “Like I said, boring shit.”

Ugh, politics. No wonder he was so disinterested, you would be, too. “How long has your clan been around?”

He blew air out past his lips, counting in his head. “Some one-thousand years, I think?”

“Yeesh,” you fluttered your lashes. “So you come from old old money, huh?”

“Ee-yup, pretty much,” he crooned, doing a complete flip in attitude from ennui to playing the part of charmer. “Which means I have plenty to spoil you with, pretty girl.”

You rolled your eyes and cupped water in your hands to splash him. He bayed in offense and splashed you right back, soaking your hair and face aggressively. He cackled like a mad man as you wiped the mineral water off your scowling features. That didn’t count, his hands were way bigger than yours.

He dipped a finger under one lens of his shades, rubbing away whatever liquid had gotten caught beneath, giving you the perfect segue to probe about them.

“Why are you wearing those glasses all the time? Can you even see through them with all this steam?” You inquired skeptically.

Satoru tapped his left cheek. “Sensitive eyes.”

“Or,” you proposed an alternative, because that was too easy, “you’re hiding something.”

His lips spread in a compelling grin. “Why don’t you come and find out?”

Don’t mind if I do.

You reached for his sunglasses, wiggling your fingers like you were about to cast some spell on him with a witchy smile. You expected him to maneuver away, angle his head so you couldn't actually get them, but he surprised you when he let you take them without any struggle.

You slid them off the bridge of his nose, fingertips brushing porcelain skin, and revealed the true hue of his eyes to you for the first time.

Your breath left your chest in a swift exhale, the vacuum of space stealing the air from your lungs.

You recalled what you thought of the sky the first time you had seen it from Satoru’s backyard, through a seamlessly cut circle sitting above the treeline. You remembered how you thought it was the brightest blue you had ever seen.

You took it all back.

This was the brightest blue you’d ever seen.

Prismatic eyes peered back at you, shimmering and shifting between shades of an early winter morning and oceanic depths, galvanic and otherworldly. You didn’t know how it was possible to have irises so vibrant and enthralling, how they caught the light and shattered it infinitesimally, scattering and dancing about like glittering snow. You swore that if you sought hard enough, you could see the crystalline shards glisten like rainbows whenever rays of luminescence caught them at the right angle.

At their darkest, they were cresting, bioluminescent waves crashing over the shore of a chilly evening on a beach, or a bouquet of blue orchids, or the celestial eons above when they began to shift from midnight to dawn, before the sun had awoken.

At their lightest, they were diamonds, multifaceted and nearly iridescent. The shimmering of a fairy’s wings, the first sip of spring, the water of the everblue hot spring behind his home as it subsumed you – calming, serene, warm. You yearned to take a deep breath, dive under the water’s cusp, and remain there forever.

A seraphim’s wings beat, thousands of eyes blessing with eldritch purity, each centered on you.

From the cascading snowdrift of his nitrogen-dipped lashes flocked with millions of ice crystals, to the gems he called irises, down to the voids of his pupils as they dilated, consuming pools of excruciating delphinium into trenchant rings.

They threatened to sink and drown you in their zeros, to poison you with a drop added to your wine, and you'd swallow all of it down in large swigs and thank him for it. You’d do anything to feel his hyperborean venom in your bloodstream.

You wondered if they collected sunlight during the day and glowed in the pitch of night, reflecting like vitreous ponds filled with veiled secrets known only to gods and the man in front of you, the one that ruled above them all.

He could make the boughs of celestia bend and lower for him, as if kneeling to respect their king. He could buckle any will with just a brief coup d'œil, make the strongest, most powerful people grovel at his feet, make the choirs of the universe sing for him and him alone, anything he desired.

But, he chose to lay his sights on you with playful mirth and gleaming excitement glissading within them.

“Careful, princess,” he preened, migrating towards you, a hunter stalking his prey. “Keep looking at me like that and I might get shy.”

Speckles of sweat slipped off the high curves of his cheekbones, dotting his forehead and temples, plastering his lily-white hair to his fair skin, and you decided on the spot that you were a slave to Gojo Satoru.

Ruin me.

Your lips tingled, parted as you beheld him in latria, begging to feel his upon yours. He was there, nearing, close, closer, closer–

“Ah, there you two are,” you jumped away from Satoru like he was a scorching bonfire you nearly leapt head first into, Suguru’s voice snapping you out of your muzzy revere.

You could have sworn you heard the boy you so nearly touched swear something foul under his breath, but you were too busy dying inside to pay attention. You whipped around, your fingers clasping the rocky shelf of the spring hard enough to break through it, gripping to it for dear life. Focusing on Geto as he approached grounded you and gave you a modicum of the stability you needed to recover because holy shit, you were about to kiss his best friend, what the hell is wrong with you.

“I heard back from Uncle Han,” Suguru updated you as he took a knee on the mildly damp stone in front of where you were peeking up from the hot spring. “He’s an acquaintance in the construction business. He said he can come over sometime tomorrow morning to inspect your house, just to see the condition it’s in. He won’t have any free hands soon, but if the thing is in a decent enough state, we could get started on it ourselves.”

“‘We’?” You tilted your head askance.

He raised a brow. “Yes, we. You, Satoru, me. What, did you think we were going to let you do it alone?”

“It’s just…” You chewed the inside of your cheek. “I don’t know how much to pay you.”

“Pay us?”

“Yeah,” you flicked your sight between him and Satoru. “Plus, I’d feel bad making you work for me.”

His forehead creased as if you were saying something completely absurd. “Who said that we’re charging you, or that you’re making us work for you?”

Now it was your turn to be taken aback. “Uh, because it’s labor? Aren’t you guys busy?”

Suguru arched forward a fraction, maintaining intense eye contact that refused to abate, seriousness etched into the tempered chocolate of his optics. They demanded your full attention, an unspoken command to meet his gaze and never look away unless he gave you permission.

You feared he never would – or, perhaps, wished.

“Satoru spends most of his days like a spoon-fed child who only has to occasionally go out of town to assist his dad, or fill out some paperwork when Gojo-san is too overwhelmed. I help out my folks with their farm in the mornings and sometimes an hour or two after noon. We have more free time than we know what to do with.”

Satoru sidled up to you, wrapping an arm around your waist to pull you into his side. Everywhere his skin touched yours burned, hotter than the prickling, fervid loch submerging you below your ribcage. His beaming face entered your field of view, brilliant azures drowning out the rest of the world until only butterfly pea and black tea remained.

“It’ll be fun!” He touted, fingers squeezing your hip affectionately. “Tall, dark, and stupid over here’s right, we’ve been needing something to do.”

Mr. Tall, Dark, and Stupid’s expression dropped into a vexed glare. “Eat a dick and die, Satoru.”

“You first.”

“I’ll drown you in there.”

“Not if I strangle you.”

“Good luck reaching me, shitstick.”

As entertaining as their bickering was, you needed to say something before the very important conversation got completely swept away. You reached up to touch the dark-haired man’s hand as it hung lazily over his raised thigh, but stopped short when you saw liquid drip off your wrist. You didn’t want to get him wet, so you used that hand to draw his attention with a downward wave of your digits.

“Thank you, Geto,” the outer corners of your eyes crinkled.

His bristled temper died down, ire replaced with an irrefutable fondness in the gaze he directed at you. His hand flipped over and clasped yours, preventing you from withdrawing, unbothered by the dampness clinging to your heated palm.

He looked at you like you were the only soul worthy of seeing the curve of his lips draw upwards to match yours, the only one whose knuckles he’d lift to graze a featherlight kiss to, the only one who’d be able to coax an unseen side from him without a fight, needing only to merely whisper his name.

Sealed with a velvety promise when it spilled from his tongue into the space reserved for you, them, and no other.

“Suguru.”

banner by cafekitsune ♥

taglist: @kimi01985

#Tether Me #jjk x reader #gojo x reader #satoru x reader #gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #geto x reader #suguru x reader #geto suguru x reader #suguru geto x reader #satosugu x reader #chimera writes

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cosette141 · 2 years

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It's the Thought that Counts (Leverage Fanfic) | Thanksgiving Story

Fandom: Leverage Author: cosette141 Words: 1631

Summary: When Eliot gets hurt and can't cook Thanksgiving dinner, the team gives cooking a try. It's the thought that counts, right? Happy Thanksgiving!

AO3

a/n: takes place during OG Leverage season 3

(story under the cut!)

Everyone stood in Nate's kitchen, looking toward a prone Eliot on Nate's couch.

It was Thanksgiving Day.

The plan had been simple: finish up the job they were working on in the morning, then reconvene at Nate's apartment where Eliot would cook them Thanksgiving dinner, as he'd been doing the past two years.

But… as usual, things didn't quite go as planned.

The con was completed successfully, but not without a hiccup; Eliot had gotten into a fight with a very well-trained security guard, who ended up pushing Eliot down a flight of stairs.

The stairs ended up causing Eliot a concussion and dislocated shoulder, which was set back into place that morning and now resided in a sling over his chest.

Just a handful of minutes ago they got home and Eliot had passed out on the couch.

Looking away from the hitter, the rest of the team looked back at each other.

It was Parker who broke the silence. "We should make dinner."

Three shocked eyes turn to her. "Uh," said Hardison. "What?"

"We should make dinner," repeated Parker simply. "Eliot can't cook with one arm." A blink. "We should make dinner."

"Parker," began Nate.

"One of us has to know how to cook," said Parker with a scrunched nose.

All heads turn toward Sophie.

Her brows shot up. "Me?" When they only kept staring, she leveled them with an annoyed glare. "What? Just because I'm a woman, you think I know how to cook a meal like that?"

From their stares, yes they did.

"Well, I don't," she said firmly, crossing her arms. "I grew up with people who cooked for us, and grifted everyone else in my life into either cooking or buying me a meal. I don't cook."

Parker deflated a little.

"What about you?" asked Hardison to Nate. "You weren't really a stay-at-home dad," at the worddadNate shifted a little, and the three of them tried not to notice. Gently, Hardison tried, "Did you pick anything up from Maggie?"

Nate laughed a little. "Maggie? No. She wasn't much of a cook herself. I mean, I can make grilled cheese and French toast like no tomorrow.. those were Sam's favorites." His eyes clouded a little and the others fidgeted where they stood. Nate shook it away. "But, ah… no. You put a turkey in front of me, I don't know what I'd do with it."

"We could order a thanksgiving meal from a restaurant," said Hardison, reaching for his phone.

"No!" said Parker firmly. Hardison stopped. "Eliot says that's not Thanksgiving. He told me Thanksgiving is about showing your appreciation for people through food." She leveled a strong gaze with the hacker. "Not restaurants."

The four of them stood for a moment, letting the fact that Eliot Spencer appreciates them sink in until Hardison pulled out his phone. He typed a little on it and said, "Ya know what? It's fine. None of us can cook. But here…" He flipped around his phone to show a screen of a YouTube video titled: Thanksgiving Dinner For Dummies. He grinned. "And this is why this is the age of the geek, baby."

Eliot's head pounded.

At first, he thought it was the remnants of his concussion headache. He knew it wasn't a bad concussion, only minor, but this didn't feel like that kind of a headache. This felt like—

"Aw, crap, what'd I just do—"

Yup, that was it.

A Hardison headache.

The hacker's voice floated in, along with the clatter of something to a counter. More sounds mixed in, actually—an electric mixer itself—crinkling bags and boxes, beeps and creaks of un-oiled hinges, and the cross of chatter—no, make that bickering—between Hardison and Sophie.

But as bad as the voices were for his headache, it was nothing compared to the smell.

Something was burning. Actually, several things, by how pungent it was. There was the distinct smell of burning plastic in there as well, among burning of meat, potatoes—a horrible burning smell—and cranberries.

Eliot finally wrenched open his eyes, finding himself staring at the back of Nate's couch.

His eyes stung a little and he coughed, both from the waft of smoke coming from the kitchen and the distinct cutting-onions thing going on in the air.

Not able to take any of it any longer, he levered himself up on the arm he could move and propped himself up on it, looking over the back of the couch.

Eliot Spencer has seen many terrifying, horrendous things in his life.

But nothing was quite as bad as the scene before him.

Nate's kitchen was a mess.

Pots and pans littered every counter, some overturned, and for whatever reason, one's contents were lightly on fire.

The stove was covered with pans and the oven was open, and both Sophie and Hardison were leaning over it. A thin trail of gray smoke trailed into their faces and they were arguing about something.

Parker was stirring something in a pot with the mixer, so close to the metal of it that it made a loud clanging sound that made Eliot wince for both his ears and for the safety of Nate's nonstick pan, especially when Parker looked toward Hardison and Sophie and said, "I think the mashed potatoes are done! They're finally blue."

And over at his dining room table, Nate was sitting in a chair, a drink in one hand and using the other to rub at his temples.

Eliot blinked.

"What the hell is goin' on?" demanded Eliot, loud enough to be heard over the mixer and Hardison and Sophie's bickering.

The noise silenced and each head looked over toward him.

Parker was the only one whose face lit up. "Eliot!" She put down the pan and skipped over to him. "We're making Thanksgiving dinner!"

Eliot blinked.

He slowly took in the mess of Nate's kitchen, and could pull out faint scents (minus the scorching) of traditional thanksgiving dishes. Even Nate's dining room table was all set up with five plates, napkins and silverware. The oven door closed and Eliot looked back over to see Hardison and Sophie handling a very-black turkey on a cookie sheet.

Two sheepish grins, one amused grin, and one bright and proud grin were shot his way.

Eliot worked to find his voice. "You guys…cooked?"

"Well," said Hardison, as he and Sophie put the "turkey" down on the counter. "With your arm all messed up it woulda been really hard for you to cook for us this year. And you were really tired and we didn't wanna wake you…"

Parker smiled wide. "And you deserve it!"

Not in any of the years since he's left home has someone cooked him a meal. Well, outside of the sludge they served in the prisons and dungeons from his darker days. Even on dates,hewas the one who cooked, and those relationships never lasted long to begin with. But Thanksgiving dinner? Meeting the team had been the first time he's ever cooked one, using the old recipes he learned from watching his mama as a kid.

After meeting the team, he'd cooked for them because they needed someone to feed them something better than the crap they ate. And he'd been heartbroken to hear that Parker had never celebrated Thanksgiving, Hardison and Sophie hadn't since they'd left home as kids, and that Nate hadn't since his son died.

So when he got hurt, he was more upset about not being able to cook than any of the physical pain. But this was something that happened once a year, and it was one of the only traditions he really cared about.

Seeing the four of them, surrounded by—what would probably be a very inedible—dinner, that they made forhim… was something that really warmed his heart.

It may have simply been the onions or the smoke still lingering in the air, but Eliot felt his eyes burn the smallest bit with tears.

"Dinner's almost ready!" said Parker brightly. "I made your favorite dessert too!" She picked up a dish that looked like a pile of tan goo. It took all of Eliot's self-control not to react badly.

"Uh," he swallowed. "What...what is it?"

Parker looked at him weird. "Duh! It's apple pie." As Eliot tried to hide the shock from his face, she looked back down at the… "pie."

"Oh!" she said, laughing. "It'll probably look more like a pie after it's done boiling."

He was thankful she turned her back then because he wasn't quite sure he could hide the utter horror from his face.

Though, Nate caught it, and Eliot watched his lips twitch into an amused grin.

"How the hell…"

Eliot looked over to see Hardison stabbing a knife into the center of the turkey, and it getting stuck. He tried yanking it out.

"Hardison!" yelled Eliot. "What the hell are you doing?"

Hardison looked up. "What? I'm carving the turkey."

"That's not—" Eliot shut his eyes. He got himself off the couch, making his way over to Hardison. "Who taught you how to hold a knife? What are you—give me that!"

"No, man—you only have one arm! I got it!"

"My one arm is more capable of doing this than both of yours now give me the knife!"

"No!"

Nate watched from his seat at the table. A normal man might worry at watching the two boys wrestle over a rather large knife, but he wasn't a normal man. And this wasn't a normal family.

But it was a family.

His family.

And for that, even as he later had to actually eat the questionable dinner his family made…

He couldn't have been more thankful to have them.

#leverage #leverage fic #leverage fanfic #leverage eliot #leverage fanfiction #leverage team #fanfiction #fanfic #thanksgiving #thanksgiving fanfic #thanksgiving fanfiction #ff #leverage ff #eliot spencer #parker #alec hardison #nate ford #nathan ford #sophie deveraux

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jlalafics · 3 years

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"Almost Paradise"-a birthday story for mrspeetamellark!

Happy birthday @mrspeetamellark! This is one day late but I hope you enjoy this continuation of your lifeguard!Peeta story!

You can find the first part here.

Also, mind the smut at the end.

______

“How do I look?” Katniss stepped into the living room where Annie and Finnick sat on the couch. “Do I look too much like a girl who’s seen nothing but forests and whose pastime is archery?”

She did a little twirl in her sleeveless green jersey dress and cropped jean jacket for the couple.

“You look cute!” Annie stood up, rounding her. “But take the jacket off.”

“And undo the braid,” Finnick added.

Katniss shrugged the jacket off, handing it to Annie before unraveling her braid.

“Why?”

“If you’re cold, he can’t give you his jacket or put an arm around you if you’re wearing one, can he?” Annie pointed out.

“And nothing is sexier than a hair flip and an over-the-shoulder smile,” Finnick told her.

Katniss snorted. “What do you mean?”

The man bent his head, throwing it back before looking over his shoulder to smile at Annie and Katniss.

“See?” Finnick smirked. “Irresistible.”

“Is that how Annie got you?” Katniss asked.

“No, it’s how he got me,” her cousin replied. “His hair was at his shoulders at the time.”

There was a knock on the door.

“He’s here!” Finnick screamed out excitedly.

Katniss laughed, going to the door. “I thought I was going out with Peeta.”

“I’m just really happy for you,” Finnick replied.

“He’s hoping that you’ll stay the night with Peeta so we can shag like rabbits,” Annie said as Katniss opened the door.

“I should at least take you to dinner before you stay over.”

Peeta stepped into the house, his eyes meeting Katniss’. He kissed her cheek.

“You look beautiful.”

“Thanks.” Katniss looked over Peeta in his brown leather jacket, fitted white tee, and jeans. “You look great.”

“Yes, very dreamy,” Annie agreed.

Finnick fluttered his lashes. “I’d do you.”

“On that note, we should go,” Katniss told him. “Bye, guys.”

Annie gave her a hug. “Have a shit ton of fun.”

Taking Peeta’s hand, Katniss led him out the door.

“Use protection!” Finnick called out, just as the door closed behind them.

++++++

“My Mom is the local medicine woman while my sister assists her,” Katniss said as they strolled. “I’ve never been very good at all the medicinal stuff which is surprising since I usually go hunting with my Dad or Gale…well, maybe just my Dad now.” She turned to the man, smiling at her in amusement. “I’m talking a lot, aren’t I?”

“No, I like it,” Peeta said as he gazed at her. “You have a lot to say and I want to hear it all.”

“Maybe it’s because I kind of disappear into the background a lot of the time,” she told him. “Being a hunter and all. I mean, everyone who lives in my neighborhood looks the same. Dark hair, olive skin…Mom and Prim are the exception. Both blonde and blue-eyed.”

“Why is that?”

“My Mom grew up in the higher-class part of District 12,” she explained. “And she ran off with my Dad.”

“So, they were Star-Crossed Lovers,” Peeta replied.

“Yup, minus the gang fights and death.” Katniss looked around the line of shops along the wooden-slatted walkway. “Where are we?”

“This is District 4’s commercial area,” he explained. “This is where visitors like yourself might come to eat at a restaurant or buy some local goods. The folks from the Capitol come here during the summer and double our revenue for the year.”

“We don’t have anything like that in 12,” Katniss replied. “Unless you’d be interested in goat’s milk or cheese made by Prim’s goat.” Peeta raised a brow and she chuckled. “Yes, my sister has a goat.”

He reached for her hand, giving it a squeeze.

“Would buying goat’s milk score me brownie points with you?”

Katniss closed in the space between their joined hands. “Maybe.”

Peeta stopped, reaching to lift her chin. “Maybe?”

“Probably,” she relented, her chin wobbling in nervousness.

The way Peeta gazed at her was exhilarating and unnerving, all at once. It was as if he knew exactly what she was thinking. If she was being entirely honest, most of her thoughts regarding this strong-jaw, golden-haired man were not entirely clean.

“Are you hungry?” he asked.

Katniss swallowed harshly. “Starving.”

Peeta stepped towards her, his hands going to her shoulders—to turn her around.

In front of her was a storefront displaying an array of pastries and cakes, but it wasn’t the food that made her jaw drop slightly.

It was the sign.

“Mellark Bakery?” Katniss turned to him, a smile playing on her lips. “You have a bakery.”

“My family has one,” he told her simply. “I thought that we might explore some career options for you.”

Katniss was confused. “What?”

“You said that you didn’t have your dream job.” Peeta pulled her towards the entrance. “I thought maybe we could see if you cut it in the culinary world.”

“Or I could possibly burn the place down,” she retorted.

“Come on. If anything, it will be something worth remembering,” he told her.

“I can’t believe that you remembered the ramblings of a deranged woman who swam right into an undertow.”

“Kind of hard to forget when you were screaming in my ear.” Peeta put an arm around her, his mouth brushing against her lobe. Her legs almost caved at the motion. “I think it will be fun. Doing something together in the back of the bakery.”

“Fine.” Katniss let out a sigh. “You’re lucky you’re so damn cute.”

He kissed the top of her head affectionately.

“I’m lucky because you said yes.”

++++++

After stepping into the bakery, Katniss was introduced to Peeta’s parents, Charlie and Roberta.

“How did you get Peeta’s name?” she asked immediately. “Your names are surprisingly normal.”

The elder Mellarks immediately took to her with easy chuckles.

“I was under some heavy-duty pain relief after he came out,” Roberta answered. “And Charlie here was running on no sleep at that point. One of us must have sputtered out, Peeta.”

“They just wanted to be different,” Peeta told her, arm still slung around her shoulders affectionately. “But they kept in order.”

She turned to him curiously. “Meaning?”

“Nop,” Charlie replied, a grin that Peeta obviously inherited, on his mouth.

“You Mellarks are confusing,” Katniss said with a shake of her head.

“Not Nop, but N-O-P.” Peeta looked to his parents in affectionate exasperation. “As in Noli, Oren, and Peeta. So, as you can see, I got the best name of the bunch.”

“I guess I must be pretty boring with my plant name,” she replied. “At least, Prim got a sweet one, and it fits her perfectly.”

The bell at the top of the front door interrupted their conversation and Peeta quickly led her to the back of the bakery, where she was greeted by stainless steel counters and industrial ovens. There, Peeta told her that they would be making sticky buns for them to eat. He pulled his family’s recipe book from the back office and showed her the recipe.

“You’re the first non-Mellark to see this book in years,” he told her.

“Don’t worry.” Katniss smiled at the man beside her. “I won’t steal your precious recipes.”

They both got to work making the dough and Peeta showed her how to add the ingredients into one of the electric mixers. After, standing behind her, he instructed her on kneading the dough to the right consistency—smooth and just a little sticky.

“There you go,” he said lowly, his warm breath against the nape of her neck. Katniss’ breath quickened at the feeling of him pressed to her back. “Just put a little more pressure into the dough.” He moved her hair to one side, resting his chin on her shoulder. “You’re actually pretty good at this.”

Katniss made another fold, pressing into the dough.

“It’s actually relaxing,” she admitted.

Peeta took a bowl, placing the dough in it so it could rise.

While they waited, Katniss told him more about District 12, about the main street where there was very little commercial area. How her father recently retired from the mines and how one of her friends was the mayor’s daughter.

“You’d like Madge,” she said. “She’s very sweet, all blonde hair and blue eyes.” Katniss peered at him. “Maybe I won’t. I tend to become invisible when Madge is around—”

“I happen to have an affinity for brunettes with smoky eyes,” Peeta told her. “You’re not invisible, Katniss.” His arms wrapped around her, pulling her against his chest as he kissed her temple. “I see you.”

“Thank you for telling me that.” Katniss turned to look at him. “I see you, too.”

Peeta’s hands reached to cradle her cheeks and her breath hitched in anticipation. He leaned and Katniss didn’t pull away when he brushed his lips to hers. It was the gentlest of touches, but it spread through her like wildfire.

“More,” she breathed against their kiss.

Peeta shifted, and their lips once more. Her bottom lip was pillowed between his own and he sucked at her tender flesh, drawing a moan out of her chest. Her hands reached, carding through his hair to grip and anchor her as Katniss felt that she might collapse in pleasure at any moment.

“You are fucking delicious,” he whispered along her tongue. “I want to taste every part of you—”

“Well, don’t do it here!” They pulled apart to see Charlie at the doorway leading to the front. “I don’t want to tell my grandkid that he or she was conceived on the counter where their Dad was.”

“Moment’s over.” Peeta helped her off the counter—how did she even get up there? He gave her an apologetic smile. “For what it’s worth, that was one hell of a first kiss.”

She had to agree.

Katniss had wanted a kiss where she saw stars behind her eyes—and she did.

However, it didn’t compare to what she felt as their lips met.

Fire.

++++++

After being discovered by Charlie—or Dad, as he insisted Katniss to call her—the man had sent them away with a basket of bread and pastries, along with some cheese, meat, and wine. They had found a nearby parklet decorated with flowers and made sandwiches.

They sipped on their wine while Peeta told her more about the Mellark Family. Their bakery had been a staple in District 4 since Peeta’s great-grandfather had built it from the ground up. Roberta was a Capitol transfer that had come when she was in her teens in search of adventure. What she had found was love, Charlie sweeping her off her feet and putting a ring on it as soon as he could.

“I think Noli might’ve been the reason for the rush,” Peeta told her with a smirk. “Don’t let them know that I know.”

Peeta’s two older brothers were working in different Districts, Noli in District 2 and Oren in District 7, but visited often.

“Oren’s girlfriend is actually from District 7 and they’re visiting in the next few days. You should meet Johanna. I think you’ll like her.”

When they were finished with their food, they returned the basket to his parents and Peeta came back with keys to a Land Rover that had seen better days. The blue paint was rusting and when Peeta turned on the engine, she could feel the hard rumble directly under her.

They had set off on a tour of District 4 and Peeta had pointed out the Hall of Justice in their town square and the mayor’s home, a block away from it. He showed her where he and his brothers went to school. After graduation, Peeta had been the one who decided to stay in District 4 and would eventually take over Mellark Bakery.

He had a love for baking, finding peace in just creating.

Katniss admired that he had found his place in the world.

“Tell me about this guy you’re supposed to marry.”

She met his eyes as he stoked the bonfire in front of them.

They had settled on the beach after their tour, the tide low enough so they could settle close to the water.

“Gale is…complicated and simple all at the same time.” Her fingers dragged along the cool sand. The moon rose over the water, highlighting the curiosity on Peeta’s handsome, sculpted face as he waited for her to continue. “It would be simple to marry him and start a family. That been the plan—to him at least.”

“And why is he complicated?”

“Because I want more,” Katniss replied. “I’m not ready to settle. Not in District 12 and not with him.” She took a deep breath. “I don’t want lukewarm love…a lukewarm life. My family is great, but they know me enough to see that I’m floundering in 12. It was why Prim urged me to just leave after Gale got down on one knee.”

“She’s one smart sixteen-year-old,” Peeta remarked.

Katniss nodded in agreement. “Definitely an old soul.” She stood up, holding out her hand to him. Peeta took it and rose from his seat. “You ever want more?”

“Not until recently,” he told her, his blue eyes darkened in the moonlight.

The heat between them was inescapable. However, neither made a move to part.

Instead, their bodies only pressed closer until Katniss could feel the prickle of her hardening nipples against Peeta’s broad chest.

Her eyes went to his. “What do you want?”

“I thought that much was clear,” he told her roughly.

Their mouths met in a crushing kiss. Her hands grasped at his biceps as he encircled her waist, pressing his pelvis to hers and she pressed up, feeling the cloth of his jeans against her clit.

Peeta growled, his lips moving off to taste and suckle her skin. Katniss purred as he reached the juncture of her neck and bit lightly. She watched as he kissed along the neckline of her dress, his hands grazing the sides of her breasts teasingly before he sunk to his knees.

Panic gripped her and grabbed his wrists. “What are you doing?”

Peeta grinned. “What do you think I’m doing?”

“I’ll never come that way,” she told him simply. “And this has been better than anything I ever felt. I don’t want to ruin it.”

“Give me a chance,” he replied, his hands on her hips to keep her from joining him on the sand. “If you don’t like it, then we’ll stop.”

Slowly, Katniss acquiesced.

Peeta lifted her skirt, carefully tucking it up into the elastic waistline. He stared at her bare skin for a moment and she consciously rested a hand to her stomach.

Thank God, she wore her cute underwear.

“Lovely,” he breathed out.

Peeta kissed along her thighs, letting her get comfortable enough to widen the opening between them. His mouth pressed to the insides and she knew that he could taste her arousal, his tongue swiping quickly along the line of her panties.

“Fuck, you’re wet,” he said hoarsely.

His mouth went to her clit, sucking through the lace, and she keened at the sudden twist in her belly.

Her hands moved to her panties and he helped her, guiding them off her before they found their place in his back pocket.

Peeta’s mouth was immediately on her cunt, roughly kissing along her sodden labia and her hands dug into his hair, holding him in place. This was something that she had never felt before, waves of desire pulsing through her core and she tried to catch that feeling with each swipe of his tongue.

“Ride my face,” he commanded, hitching her thigh over his shoulder. “I want to taste all of you.”

Katniss let out a breath at the desperate tone in his words. She pressed her pelvis closer to him, experimentally moving back and forth along his tongue as his hands cupped her bottom.

When her clit hit his nose, she let out a hiss. “Fuck!”

He chuckled against her cunt, before pressing his tongue flat against the nerve before thrusting two fingers inside her.

The euphoria took over and Katniss moved a hand to her chest, pinching a nipple and feeling the sparks of pleasure course to her core. Her other hand remained firm on Peeta’s head as he sucked and fucked her with his tongue and fingers.

Katniss felt herself there at the edge, surprised at how quickly Peeta had gotten her there—but she let herself fall into it.

Like that afternoon, she headed right into a riptide, knowing Peeta would be her rescuer.

“Oh…fuck…” Her hips canted on her own as she crested, pushing her cunt onto his face. “…I’m coming—” Peeta’s fingers quickened as he lapped at her peak. “…yes…Peeta!”

Her body snapped and Katniss arched, crying out into the dark sky as her orgasm crashed over her body and she felt the warm release seep out her conto Peeta’s waiting mouth. He was gentle, lightly tasting her as she came down from her high.

Carefully, they fell back onto the sand, breathing harshly, as they looked up the starry heaven above them.

Katniss reached for Peeta’s hand and he entwined their fingers, squeezing her hand tenderly.

Peeta tugged until she rested her head against his chest, and she sighed contently at the feeling of solidity that being with him brought her.

“I think I found what I was looking for,” she said quietly.

His hand settled in her hair. “And what is that?”

Katniss turned; her chin pressed to his chest so she could meet his azure eyes.

“You.”

Peeta smiled, the warmth of it spreading through her body and causing a flutter in her stomach.

She didn’t know if this was love, but she was willing to stay until she knew what it was.

“Do you want to go…” Peeta’s gaze was careful, his hand moving along her hair as to not break the spell between them. “…to my place?”

Finnick would be getting his wish.

Katniss nodded, a smile playing on her lips.

“Let’s go.”

*I’d like to do another part at some point…

#lifeguard!Peeta #birthday present #everlark fanfiction #everlark #rated m

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moonlit-mizukage · 4 years

Note

Hiya! Can I pleas have quotes 17 + 19 and fluff with Sakusa ? and if you don't write for him can you do it with Bokuto instead ? Thank you sm! <3

An: Hi, thank you for participating in my event!! I hope you like your piece :D

Pairing: Sakusa x F!reader

Genre: Fluff

Word count: 787

Prompts

!7. “Darling I love you but please get out of the kitchen.”

19 “You’re an idiot” “But I’m your idiot.”

Masterlist

Third Person POV

Today was Y/n and Sakusa’s 2nd anniversary. Y/n decided today would be the day she showed him the new cooking skills she learned from taking a secret cooking class. Sakusa knew she was not the best cook. He would just order take out on days he was too exhausted to cook. Y/n wanted to make it up to him and make something outstanding for their anniversary.

Little did Y/n know, cooking without the help of her chef was a lot more complex than she would have thought. She made this dish so many times in class and she's made so many cakes there too. So she thought what could possibly go wrong with these odds. You decided to make him y/f/m and a lovely cake to go along with it.

First y/n had set the automatic mixer on the highest setting. Then she left it unattended as she began to prepare the main course meal sides. After finishing those up she placed a pot of water on the stove turning it on. A loud noise startled her from behind as she turned around over to see her electric Mixer gone berserk. It splattered all over the kitchen. Y/n powered off and unplugged the machine as she decided to start the cake batter over. Putting a new bowl on the counter as y/n frantically looked for the flour. Noticing she had left it on the opposite countertop, she turned to reach it, but slipped on something that had managed to coat the kitchen tiles below her. Y/n had lost her balance as she tossed the bag of flour up into the air. She began to move her arms around in a panicked way as she tried to clear the air enough to see once again.

“Y/n… ” She turned sound to see him as he took a glance around the disastrous kitchen. He seemed to remain calm which only made her feel more embarrassed, as their now shared apartment kitchen was now comparable to a highschool cafeteria food fight.

“Uh Kiyoomi... Hi! I am making us a romantic dinner and desert!” Just when y/n assumed nothing was left to go wrong a small fire had popped up beside her. A piece of something must have landed there in the midst of the flour shower she had received.

“I think I should take over.” Sakusa said.

“Oh no don’t worry Kiyoo! I have everything under control.” She said with one of her million dollar smiles painted on her face.

“Darling I love you and all, but please step out of the kitchen.” She let out a small sigh.

“Alright, that's fair. I will go change and when I come back would you like some help?”

“Just go shower Y/n... or should I call you flower from now on?” He said with a sly smirk.

“Please don’t.” She said with a laugh.

Short time skip.. .

As y/n exited the bathroom she walked out to an amazing smell.

“Wow Kiyoomi… It smells so delicious here! What did you cook in such a short ti-” She stopped in her tracks as she entered the dining area. “Wow you really made this place look amazing so quickly.”

“I ordered out. Someone destroyed the kitchen so it is unusable at this current time.” The table was set up with a velvet red table cloth, two plates and some rose petals spread out below on the floor. The lights were dimmed but not fully off leaving just enough light for them to be able to still see.

“I thought cooking was a lovely gesture for our anniversary. You always cook for me.”

“It would have been if you didn’t almost burn down our apartment.” He said, pulling out her chair.

“My chef and classmates made it look so easy though. I really thought I had it nailed cause we made all those things a bunch of times.” Y/n said with a slight pout on her lips.

“You're an idiot.” He said with the quietest of chuckles.

“But I’m your idiot.” She said as the two moved in closer.

Sakusa pulled her down into a kiss. “I love you.” He whispered into her hair.

“I love you too.”

“Kiyoo after dinner let’s clean together. I guess your gift really will come in handy earlier than I wanted it to.”

“Did you buy my cleaning supplies again?”

“...Maybe?” With that he gave her a warm smile that she is usually the only one lucky enough to see. “It’s the only thing you will ever let me buy you.”

“Because my gift is getting to wake up beside you every day.”

#haikyuu x reader #sakusa fluff #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu oneshot #sakusa oneshot #sakusa x reader #haikyuu x you

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sweetwritertanya · 4 years

Text

Favorite Dessert

Summary: Jin becomes aware of a particular fetish he seems to have that involves you and food, namely whipped cream that you just happen to be making when he comes home…

Warnings: SMUT! This was basically written for my followers who are craving some BTS smut as I write my original series. Keeping all my people well fed, the best I can. Also, Jin needs more love in the fandom. So… This fic will include: swearing, erotic body touching, food play/fetish, oral (female receiving), overstimulation (just a bit, female receiving), hand-jobs (if you squint), multiple orgasms (female receiving), doggy style position, missionary position, unprotected sex (God, I need to write about protection more often, don’t I?).

BIG WARNING!!! Putting sugary goods in your own goods (pun intended) is not good! It can lead to yeast infections. Don’t try at home or do it at your own risk! This is referenced in the fic, but I must stress that the best way to prevent infection is to simply not use sugar in or around your vagina.

Word Count: 4243

It started out simply, accidentally, when you two are sitting on the couch, a bowl of popcorn in your lap as your eyes never leave the screen and you let a few popcorns fall form your fingers and land on the deep cleavage the tank top you were wearing did nothing to hide. Not even thinking about it, you just pick them back up and eat them.

But it stirred something deep inside your lover, Jin. At the first sight of the small pieces of food landing on your skin, his hands twitched and throat dried out. He couldn’t keep his eyes off your cleavage, itching to reach out with his mouth and eat them right off your supple flesh. As you picked the popcorn and placed it in between your lips, he was licking his, with electric sparks running down his spine towards his groin.

To say the unexpected interest that such an act bubbled up in him was bothersome would be putting it lightly. The fact was Jin ended up thinking about it for the whole course of a week, being in an almost constant state of semi-arousal whenever such thoughts came to his mind uninvited. Your lush body sprayed out in his queen size bed, whipped cream covering your delicious goods, cherries where your nipples would be. Or a bottle of liquid chocolate on his hand as he poured the brown syrupy fluid all over your body, how it would fall in to the crevices between your lumps or pool at the top of your fluffy stomach for him to slurp.

Jin’s cheeks would flame red more than half of the day, whenever he found himself thinking about it at the most inopportune times or when he would actually indulge on such fantasies at the privacy of his own room.

It was becoming so all-consuming that he was deciding about how to best bring it up. There has never been any talk about preferences or fetishes between the two of you yet, both very pleased with how things were and still enthralled by the novelty of it all. Jin never really realized he had such a… fascination with food play until now, never really having to talk about such things with his partner before. Therefore, he was incredibly unsure of how to even start to approach such a topic without embarrassing himself or making you feel he was not happy with how things currently were.

Turns out, he really didn’t have to say much at all.

One day, coming home late after long interviews with the rest of the boys, he could smell the bakery goods in the air before even taking a second step into the entry hall. You slept over at his house more nights than not and usually entertained yourself in the kitchen whenever you were craving something to eat.

With a sweet smile on his puffy lips, he got rid of his jacket and shoes before coming down the hallway and entering the kitchen. Your plump frame had your back to him, squatting down as you studied something in the oven before straightening back up. Your juicy ass was almost on display for him on your short shorts, being currently warm enough even during late evening and early nighttime for you to go to sleep in them and an oversized t-shirt. One of his larger ones, he noted.

Catching your eyes, he finally came into the room, crossing the kitchen smoothly as if he hadn’t been appreciating your figure for a few moments before coming in.

“What’s my pumpkin doing in the kitchen at this hour, hum?” his voice questions almost in a sing-songy tune.

Your eyes light up at the sight of him and a large smile takes over your features, making his heart swell inside his chest. He loved seeing you smile whenever he came home.

“Jin! Oh, I saw this recipe on insta for a cake and I couldn’t control myself, I finished baking it right now!” You get on your tippy-toes and lean in for a peck at his lips when he moves close enough. “How was your day?”

He smiles and leans against the counter next to you, observing as you gather whatever you need for what you are making, falling in an easy conversation with you about his day. He was about to ask about you, when you interrupt him with a hand on his forearm.

“Sorry, Jinnie, give me like two minutes! This is going to be too loud for us to talk for a bit” you explain, leaning down the cabinet under the counter and taking an electric mixer and plugging it in, the wire whips already inside the bowl.

Only then does he realize what you are making: whipped cream. He truly can’t help it, the images come to him stronger than before as the machine turns on and he watched the liquid slowly turn more solid in the container, the design on the cream exactly as he envisioned it being on top of your tits, ready for him to lick it off.

“Okay, I think I’m don- Oh, crap!” you start saying before turning the machine off. But as soon as you bring the whips up from the cream, failing to turn off the mixer beforehand, they end up spraying all over.

You turn the mixer off and put it on the counter as you look down at yourself, seeing drops of cream on your t-shirt and on the exposed skin above your chest that the large open neck of the t-shirt didn’t cover. Sensing some also got on your face, you raise your hand to clean it out when a big warm hand catches your wrist before you could.

His eyes betray him immediately. If he had any intention of hiding it by now, the way his pupils grew to almost eat away at any hint of brown made you perfectly aware of his condition. Then he licks his lips and the prominent Adam’s apple on his neck moves up and down as he swallows hard. The shift in the air gets to you and you find yourself mimicking him, swallowing with a shallow breath, eyes focusing on his lips and the tip of your tongue moves across your bottom lip.

Bending down, you feel his lips cleaning your cheek, the smallest brush of his warm tongue removing the drops of whipped cream from your skin. You close your eyes when he moves to your soft jaw line, and then almost by the corner of your mouth. Your heart is skittering inside your chest, blood flushing your cheeks and ears, and you find it amusing amidst your waves of arousal that Jin enjoyed this.

Then he moves to clean your neck and upper chest, finally removing his hand from your wrist in favor of placing both on your wide hips, pulling you in. The wet muscle is now more meticulous and demanding as he laps at your sweetened skin, lips moving further apart to give better access to his tongue. It makes you grasp at his strong arms, leaning your head to the side to give him better access as sighs and shy moans of pleasure escape you.

“Should… Should we take this to the bedroom?” you struggle to say as he licks your pulsing point on your neck.

Jin raises his head then, his plump lips even more swollen from the kisses, blushed cheeks and hooded eyes glassed over from lust. Your lower stomach turned at the knowledge of what so little had him already like this.

“Please” his mellow voice all but begs, one of his hands moving to your lower back and the other cups the curve of your ass cheek as he pulls you flushed against him, those soft lips finally meeting yours.

He greedily and desperately attached your mouths together, intermingling your breaths and surely bruising your lips with the claim he had of your mouth, lips rubbing against one another systematically and rhythmically. A small groan rumbles across Jin’s chest and you can feel it under the hand you placed on top of his heart, enticing your own moan of appreciation.

When Jin’s tongue delves between your parted lips, twining with yours and coaxing it to move and respond avidly, your knees rattle under you and embers start crackling under your skin, tingles racing up your spine. Your hands lock behind his neck automatically as he starts to walk backwards, blindly trying to guide you both to the bedroom.

The hand that was holding your lower back lets go and your foggy mind registers some sort of clatter to your right, but Jin’s teeth scrapping your bottom lip distract you before you could figure out what produce it.

Only once you get inside the bedroom do you understand what it was. The back of your knees hit the mattress and your body fell softly on it, Jin standing at the edge of the bed with a hungry look in his dark eyes. You realize he is holding the bowl with the whipped cream you made, which he then places on the bed next to your head.

Smiling knowingly, you can’t help but dip two of your finger in it, locking eyes with Jin as you take them in your mouth and lick them clean. Jin has to close his eyelids as he feels his eyes roll to the back of his head and a shudder overtakes him, growling when he looks back at you and you are already pulling your shirt over your head. In less than a second, he is disposing of his.

Almost predatory like, you marvel as Jin bends over you, slowly looming over your body as he makes his way on his hands and knees up the bed, eyes burning you, until he reaches the same level as you. Both of his knees on either side of your round hips, hands holding him up on either side of your head, you don’t dare avert your stare even as you sense him moving his right hand away.

His thumb returns with a generous dose of whipped cream on it, that he carefully and slowly smudges over your lips. You are tempted to lick it off, but you know that is not what he wants. Instead you await as he regards you with a fiery look, taking a moment before leaning down and licking your lips clean. You open your mouth and indulge on the flavor of the mixture of the whipped cream and Jin’s own unique taste. Full blown flames feel like are burning your insides, desire building up tension in your core.

It is a hot but short kiss, Jin’s mouth moving south as his right hand goes under you to unclasp your bra and his left one is fondling your curvy sides. He pecks at your fevered skin as he pulls the straps down your arms and throws the bra somewhere in the room. The hand that was by your side moves up to cup your breast and roughly squeeze it, making your arch into his touch and moaning breathily. Your nails are scratching at his triceps, the back of his arms, as your legs rub together on their own accord in search of some friction in between them.

His pecks stop just short of your puckered nipple, as he lifts his head and watches as his fingers tease the poor bud until you are puffing in frustration and hit his arm.

“Jin!” you manage to say in a ragged breath.

He looks at you intensely, hands freezing on your skin much to your irritation. But you hold your complaints back as you sense he is on the verge of saying something.

“I want… Can I… It’s just…” he struggles to make his will known, even though you already had a good idea what it was about.

“Jin…” you reach your hands and cradle his beautiful face, thumbs reassuringly brushing the skin of his cheeks. “Do what you want. I’m all yours.”

That seems to do it for him. Jin turns his head to kiss the palm of your hand before he reaches for the bowl next to your head, getting one last approving look from you before he pours the cream all over your breasts. You gasp at the sudden cold, but your insides feel like are scorching with the conjectures of what he was about to do and how it would feel.

Jin places the bowl somewhere in the bed, not even looking as all his attention seems to be on the drooping cream covering your tits, exactly like he imagined so many times the past few days. Taking no more time, he delves down and tastes your salty sweat overpowered by the sweetness of the whipped cream, right in between the valley of your breast. You mewl and your hands clasp at his fluffy hair and the nape of his neck, urging him to lick you completely clean.

“Th… Ahhh!... The sheets will need to be changed” you note, the cream already melting down your sides and dripping on the bed.

“Worth it” he merely states, before finally finding your perked nipple beneath the cream and sucking on it like his life depended on it.

You whimper and pull his hair tight, enticing a low rumble from the back of his throat that only contributes to the already pooling center begging for attention between your legs. But Jin is purely focused on the mess he made on your chest, not resting until your skin is completely lapped clean and no trace of any cream rests on it.

“Fuck, Jin, please!” You are incredibly built up with lustful tension, urging your boyfriend to give your boobs a rest and focus somewhere else, preferably where you most want to be touched.

At last satisfied with his work, Jin’s thick lips move down towards your soft belly, hands skimming down until he tugs at the waist of your shorts. Offering no resistance, you lift your butt and help him take both the shorts and the panties off.

“You too” you ask, one foot brushing down his covered thigh.

“You’re so fucking hot, Y/N” he curses in a whisper as he rushes to remove his own pants and boxers with shaky hands, erection springing free against his lower stomach. “I can’t believe I get to do this with you.”

“Always, babe. Now hurry, I need you!” You rub your legs together and pout to make a point.

Jin bites his bottom lip before crawling back on to the bed, settling comfortably between your legs as he pecks and kisses up your meaty calves and thighs, drawing lewd sighs and whimpers from your lips. His arms go around your thighs as he pulls them further apart until he his facing your glistening pussy, throbbing and clenching with wanton.

“Jin, please!” You are clawing the sheets and throwing your head back with anticipation.

But he doesn’t give you what you want, not yet. Instead, he moves to grab the remains of the whipped cream and with deliberately slow movements, pours the remaining creamy foam down your wet folds.

You buck your hips and hiss at the jolting feeling of the freezing liquid, when in comparison to how scorching your mound was. It brought some and almost no relief at the same time and your brain was mushing with overpowering yearning. Jin admires the sight for a moment, your round face scrunching with need, eyes tightly shut close, hands fisting the sheets and bountiful body writhing bellow him. Those full tits gleaming with remains of his tongue’s path, skin already sweaty, and the delicious cream covering your precious womanhood, waiting for him to devour. And he would.

Devour is the right word. When Jin positions himself comfortably between you legs and dives in, is like nothing you ever experienced before. His lips press and suck at your sensitive skin as he chucks the heavier layers of cream off of you, enough for your pussy to tense up at his proximity and not enough for finding any relief. He goes all around your folds and you are huffing and growling at his teasing before the wailing starts, when he finally laps the liquid right in between your folds, tongue slurping from the bottom to the pulsating clit at the top.

You are crying out his name as his persistent tongue flickers your hardened button and sucks the mixture of your juices and the liquid remains of the whipped cream. Your hips are moving despite your will, rubbing against his face and seeking him closer, deeper. The feeling of his soft fat lips opening and closing around your clit and his tongue thrashing it, before moving down and delving deep in your aching hole, has you screaming and the flames inside give way to a full explosion.

Jin feels the first tell-tale of your orgasm as your inner muscles flutter rapidly around his tongue. Humming with satisfaction, he detours his wet muscle to your clit and lavashes it at a mad pace, incredibly pleased at how you moan his name in a scream and your hand claws at his on your thigh, your back arching off the bed as the climax hits you strong.

You go limp and struggle to catch your breath after the high, semi-aware of Jin’s kisses on your inner sides. Maybe it was the incredibly frustrating slow build up, the long play with your breasts or maybe you were more into food play than you thought, but that was one of the strongest orgasms you ever had with oral sex.

Except he wasn’t done. Not yet. Just as you were about to pull him up, he renews his hold on your thighs, this time stronger than before, reattaching his mouth to your quim. Your overly sensitive skin burns under his tongue and you gasp and try to move away, but he is holding you in place.

“J-Jin! It’s t-too much!” you try to say, clawing his hands.

“Need you completely clean, don’t want you to get an infection or something.” You struggle to hear him since he doesn’t move away from between your legs, and his voice roars right against your silky center, contributing for the renewing hunger melting your insides.

He impedes your hips from moving as his tongue keeps swirling around your pulsating clit and your clenching hole, savoring your sweetened fluids like it’s his favorite dessert. You squeal and screech in a cracking voice, cheeks flushed red, taking shallow breaths and bringing one hand to his hair as your overly sensitive pussy is driven rapidly to the edge. The last climax still fresh, it takes no longer than a minute or two of his tongue twirling around your inner walls and lapping at your pearl every so often for the tightness in your abdomen to burst again, an electric current running along your nerves endings before numbing your body.

Jin licks it all off before releasing his hold on you and leaving short pecks up your stomach, up your chest all the way to your neck and ending against your lips. Even tired as you are, you move your head to kiss him back, adoring the way he slowly deepens the kiss, taking his time to warm you up again. His hands move from your thick thighs up your rolls of flesh at your sides, stopping to fondle your tits for a few moments, then continuing to your shoulders and down your arms, stopping as he holds your hands in his.

He shifts his position so that his lower half is flushed against you, and the feeling of his hard as a rock cock rubbing ever so slightly against your thigh suddenly turns the inward buzzing of satisfaction in your veins to a newly created raging longing. Your brain immediately goes to how good it would feel to have him inside and it leaves you hungrier than ever for him.

“Jin, I’m ready” you say, fingers going down his chest, feeling the flutter of his abdominals before circling around his erect length and stroking at the base.

He chokes on his words for a while as you mess with him, before licking his lips and grabbing your hips to turn you around on the bed. You position yourself on your hands and knees, presenting your ass up to him. Jin growls at the visual and guides his shaft to your folds, rubbing himself against you for a few moments before entering.

You see him reaching for the almost empty bowl, pouring the little remains of cream down your back. The whip cream doesn’t feel so cold anymore, but you still shiver and push your butt back against him, silently urging him.

Taking a hold of himself, Jin inserts the tip of his dick first, hands moving to clutch your plushy hips, before plummeting all of him in one go, your eager insides sucking him in and the tip just kissing at your cervix, deep within you. Stuttering moans leave your parted lips once he starts thrusting, leaning down to lick at your spine while he pulls in and out, raising goosebumps all over your backbone up to the nape of your neck.

You move your hips to meet his thrusts in the middle and easily fall into a maddening rhythm that as you crying out, with real tears building up in your eyes at how hot you felt, how much pressure was building up in your core, your whole body sprung with such tension. When Jin raises his right knee, standing on his foot instead, barely slowing the tempo at all, the angle changes slightly but just enough for his length to be stroking that cluster of nerves deep inside that sends bliss all over your body.

“Ahh…! Jin, there! There! I’m gonna…!” you breath out in pleads.

“Y/N!... Oh, God…”

Felling your velvet damp walls clenching intensely around him and hearing your telling high-pitched moans, Jin suddenly turns you around, dips his finger in the empty bowl left in the bed, gathering just enough cream to cover your lips before claiming them with his. His lunges speed up and with each thrust his pelvic bone rubs at your clit at the same time he kisses you deeply, both of you tasting the whipped cream that started all of this.

He swallows your moans as you finally are pushed over the edge and cum, barrel of fireworks ripping through the inside of your body as a you clenched around him in a spiraling orgasm. Jin whimpers as his hips stutter and his body is wracked with shudder after shudder, before he stills and spills his ecstasy deep inside you.

Your toes are still curled, eyes still seeing black and white dots and back still arched in the aftermath of your orgasm when he falls limp above you, his sweaty skin sticking to yours, drops glistening in his forehead, a vein still prominent on his temple and on his neck. You have half a mind to feel his pounding heartbeat against your skin, enough percipient to not mistake it for your own.

“Sorry, am I crushing you?” you hear Jin mutter once he reobtains his faculties.

He tries to slide off of you, but you throw your arms around his shoulders and press him close, not allowing him to move.

“No, stay” you ask.

Jin smiles and kisses your cheek, not removing himself from you, but doing his best to hold his weight with his forearms.

“Thank God for that recipe on Instagram” you cheekily comment, smiling against his shoulder.

Jin chuckles, lifting himself up so he can look down at you as he speaks. His fingers brush the baby hairs from your sticky forehead.

“Yeah… I’m not sure I would be brave enough to tell you how much I wanted to do this” he confessed shyly. Your eyes widen at that, curious.

“What? You’ve been thinking about something like this before?”

“I have. I wasn’t sure how to bring it up, though. Guess I couldn’t control myself once I saw you making the whipped cream.”

“Well… I’m glad you didn’t. This was really nice” you admit, one hand drawing random patterns on the back of his shoulder.

“It surely was” he agrees, leaning down and kissing your shoulder. “Now, we should go and take a shower. Clean any whipped cream off your body before it causes an infection or something.” He was furrowing his fluffy eyebrows with concern.

“Oh? But I’m pretty sure you already cleaned me up” you joke, still vividly reminded of how thorough his tongue was on removing the sweet cream of your body.

“You naughty girl” he chuckles, pecking at your lips before moving away and pulling you both to your feet.

“Fine, fine. But I’m making more whipped cream after and that is going only to the dessert, you hear me, mister?” You point your index finger at him as you walk to the bathroom.

Following you, he smirks before grabbing your naked form and pulling you against his.

“But what to do? I prefer it on my new favorite dessert.”

You blush and smack his arm, even as you can’t control the smile tugging at your lips. You would definitely be making whipped cream more often now. And maybe start buying chocolate syrup. And ice-cream for summer.

#bts chubby reader #bts chubby!reader #bts x chubby reader #chubby reader #bts #BTS jin #bts seokjin #jin #jin x reader #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #jin smut #seokjin smut #bts smut #kpop plus size #kpop chubby reader #kpop smut #seokjin fanfic #jin fanfic

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theonetheycallhannah · 4 years

Text

The Treatment of Captain Syverson-Chapter Nine: Group Therapy

Characters: Captain Syverson x OFC (Shane Benton)

Summary: A familiar drink brings back steamy memories for Shane (by popular demand), a ghost from the past picks a fight with the present, and the future hangs in the balance for our heroes.

Behind on the drama? It’s cool. I gotchu.

Word Count: 3.7k

Warnings: Language, mature themes, violence, smut, alcohol consumption, more feels than you can shake a stick at.

Author’s Note: Guys. Listen guys. I know this chapter is a tad late…not that I have deadlines, I just know y’all want more sooner than I can always get it to you. It’s also, though, a bit longer than most of the previous installments have been. I hope you guys enjoy it. I think it’s my favorite chapter so far…I definitely cried the most writing it…you’ll see why…I’m not sorry. Initially, for some reason, it was hard to stay focused. (I blame my own emotions and feelings clouding my ambitions. Can’t let that happen anymore. Even though the same factors apply. I’ve gotta keep my head in it!) I’m actually pretty sad that there won’t be very much more of this story…they’ve been such good friends to me. I may just have to find a way to keep them going in follow-up drabbles. I don’t know. But I’m open to suggestions.

Disclaimer: Unfortunately for me, Henry is not mine, le sigh, and all mention of him, his characters, any characters from his films, or his precious doggy, Kal, are strictly for transformative and recreational use. I neither ask for, nor accept payment for the work I post on Tumblr or AO3. Unbeta’d because this is for fun and escapism.

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Hope I’m not forgetting anyone! If you want to be notified when I post a new chapter or work, I’ll be happy to add you to my tag list! Stricken blogs are getting personal messages from me when a new chapter is uploaded because Tumblr’s faulty tagging system will not stand in the way of me delivering what the people want!(?) lol! (Although…their lackadaisical notification system might…sorry for that. I have no control. lol!)

X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@

It wasn’t top on Shane’s list of things she wanted to do tonight, but it had been ages since she’d gone out with her friends. It wasn’t totally because she’d been seeing Sy. But more recently, he had become the most prevalent reason she ended up bowing out. Because she had plans with him, or she needed to do things that she hadn’t gotten or wouldn’t get done because of plans with him unless she skipped out. They were bad excuses, but those of an introvert weren’t usually top-shelf, anyway.

It was Heather, the other secretary Marsha and her husband Alec, some of her fellow PTs Cory and Juan, and both OTs, Olivia and Miranda there at Cade’s that night. And Shane and Sy, of course. They were sitting at two tables close together, and after dinner, the guys got up to play darts while the ladies ordered a round of shots.

Heather both requested and paid for the tray of tiny glasses full of dark liquor. Shane knew the aroma all too well. Those were full of Jack Daniels. And she got tingly just thinking about the spirit, especially now.

“Let’s drink the first round to Shane.” She passed them around and held one up. “For landing captain sexy pants over there, and for being happier than I’ve seen her in actual years.” Heather clinked to the middled with the other girls as they completed the toast with cheery responses of “to Shane!” With intermittent whoops and cat-calls. She felt funny saluting herself, so she said nothing, silently dedicating her own drink to the guy she wasn’t expecting, wasn’t even asking for, but who’d been gifted to her, by God Himself, it seemed. Whoever or whatever or why ever, she was grateful for him.

She downed the full measure of whiskey, feeling the familiar pleasant burn down her throat and reminisced about the last time she’d had the drink.

~~~~~~

“No you’re cheating!” She slurred at Sy’s kitchen table.

“Not how I see it!” He smirked, that crooked grin mixing with the alcohol in her already impaired system making a heady and dangerous concoction.

“You’re delib’rately using my PT career against me!” They we’re playing “Never Have I Ever.” And he’d just used “never have I ever measured somebody up with a big protractor.”

“Hey, you’ve been trying to get me with ‘never have I army this, and never have I army that.’ And you just can’t and now you’re mad about it.”

“Ugh, I’m not mad, I just…don’t like cheating okay. Fair play. I’m a Hufflepuff, through and through!”

“As a Gryffindor, I resent your implication against my honor! And I say, drink twice.” They’d run out of mixer, and were down to the straight liquor. She was fine with it. She loved the sweet, oaky burn of Number 7 as she held small swallows on her tongue. Relished the burn of it on the tender skin of her lips like a rough kiss. She took two shots at his insistence.

“Never have I ever…fired a gun!” And they both drank because she had chosen a “never” that she “had ever” on purpose. She liked feeling this way with Sy. She liked being able to abandon her control and feel safe in so doing. Knowing that he wouldn’t let anything hurt her. Including herself.

His eyes began to glimmer in a way that she could always tell meant he was thinking something particularly salacious. Which typically meant something good was about to happen.

“Never have I ever…fooled around in a kitchen.” He waited a beat, then slowly stood, taking a long stride to stand directly in front of Shane, towering over her as she sat limp from drinking and more than ready for whatever he was planning. The kiss he gave her was almost instantly hungry, devouring, consuming. A wild fire that would spread throughout the forest of her. He pulled a stool out from under the table near her, barely having to break the contact and sat down in front of her on it. She leaned into him now, the boneless feeling now overtaken by her craving for him. She tugged at his casual blue tank top that stunned her because of the way it matched his eyes so well. She needed him closer. His hands rested on her thighs, mostly bare in the shorts she'd chosen for tonight, simply for their comfort, and not because they provided any sort of easy access. Not on a conscious level, anyway, she told herself.

His grip was tightening but the pain of the pressure didn't matter. His thumbs and fingers were rupturing tiny blood vessels and she registered the pain and the fact that she would have bruises in the shape of his claiming grip but all that really mattered was that he was there. Near. Present. And touching her.

His hands moved, sliding up her legs, their trajectory shifting inward, their aim to open her up to him.

She was nothing short of willing.

He reached down to the seat between her legs and pulled her closer to him. Yes, she thought. He's too far away. Even though she could smell the whiskey on his breath even as she tasted it, still sweet on her own tongue. He laid a gentle hand on her left cheek, an almost chaste gesture, that snaked into something entirely different as it descended, brushing her neck, between her breasts, and over her abdomen, tumultuous from his touch and the drink.

He made it finally to her apex, easily brushing aside the fabric of her shorts, and teasing her there over her underwear with a soft, measured touch. She threw her arms around his neck, a wordless plea for him to go on. But her body was at odds with her mind.

“Sy, I wanna go slow.” She meant she didn’t want to end up in his bed tonight. Well, not that she didn't want to…

"Don't worry, sunshine. I'll take it real slow." he assured her, pretending to misunderstand her meaning as he teased her over her panties. She couldn't have spoken to correct him even if his lips hadn't taken an urgent hold on hers. His firm but frustrating touch was leaving her speechless and breathless.

Finally, he moved her undergarment aside to touch her, skin to skin. To pull a sweet, euphoric moan from her with just his fingers. He had been right about taking his time. It took him ages to find that space inside her that brought her to her pinnacle, but he made the wait enjoyable, all the same. She had a feeling he could have gone right to it, if he’d wanted to, but since she’d asked for it…

He grinned and chuckled into her mouth a bit as he toyed with her. He finally spoke,

“Hot damn, girl, you should have told me you needed me this bad.” He added a second finger to his game of search and destroy.

She could only grasp at his bare shoulders and the fabric of his shirt in an attempt to ground herself. He quickened, then slowed in sweet torture until her cries of his name became over loud for his neighborhood. The last build up, he added his thumb , brushing it against her aching center.

It hit her in waves of bliss as every muscle in her body responded to his localized, expert touch. Her vision blurred and for a second she could see the electricity flowing through air and matter and into her. Since when did THAT happen to her when she came?

“Sy!” She whimpered, a plea for him to stop but also to never stop.

“I know, darlin’, it’s alright. I’ve gotcha. Go on and let it out.” And she barely realized another climax had been building in her before she was falling headlong into it again, just as intense as the first one. He slowed, gently soothing her body after its small death, rubbing her neck and shoulder on the right side with his free hand.

He took his right hand away from her heat, brought it up to his mouth, and tasted her on his fingers. He poured them both another shot of whiskey, they threw them back, and once she had caught her breath from it all, she said,

“I don’t know the score, but I think you’ve won.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Back in the present, she felt too sober to handle the bombardment of questions coming from her coworkers, no matter how pure their intentions.

“So are you guys a couple, like officially?”

“Have you met each other’s folks?”

“Do you think he’s the one?”

“What is he like in bed!?”

“I bet he’s an absolute fiend!”

“Nah, guys ya think that about are always so vanilla.”

“How big is he!?”

All of these questions seemed to come at one time, or at least before she could answer the previous ones, and it made her head spin.

“Listen, girls. I’m gonna go get myself a strong drink, and when I come back, I’ll answer one question at a time, so figure out the order in which you’ll be asking, and a punishment system for interrupting. Fair?” The hens all nodded their beaks in agreement as she stood to go to the bar. She reminded herself to add a disclaimer when she got back to the table about having veto power over questions she felt weren’t appropriate.

As she stood at the bar waiting for her turn with the bartender, she tensed as she heard an all too familiar voice say her name.

“Shane Benton.” He said in a charming tenor that she now found obnoxiously boyish.

“Elliott Thomas. What misdeed did I do in a past life to end up back in the same room with you?” He ignored her jibe.

“You look well.” He said, surveying her as if he intended to make a purchase.

“Okay.” She would not give credence to half assed, insincere compliments.

“Who’s the guy you’re with tonight?”

“That couldn’t be any less your business.”

“You’ll always be my business, sweetheart.”

She rolled her eyes. “Funny, you didn’t seem to give a shit when we were together.”

“Come on, tell me where ya met this meat head.”

“Back off, Elliott.”

“Come on. He’s in a plaid shirt. He looks like he’s trying to cosplay the Brawny man. How quick does he pick you up?” He raised his eyebrows, driving home his attempt at double entendre.

The rage came suddenly, without warning, and manifested in a firm slap from her right hand to his left cheek. It landed solidly enough for him to have to stretch his jaw and feel it, as if making sure it was still there.

"Well, still got some spunk. Good to know. Not so fast--" he grabbed her wrist as she stepped away from the bar, but she was saved the trouble of getting out of it with her favorite self-defense maneuver, by the solid wall of red plaid and denim topped with his favorite black Chiefs hat. Sy had apparently noticed her altercation at the bar and elected to step in.

"What's goin' on here?" he asked, not brusquely, but so coolly that it was almost friendly. Elliott let go of Shane's wrist immediately and threw his hands up.

"No trouble here, man. Just a little friendly conversation between two former lovers." he said, oozing pure, stinking hubris.

"Oh, you're Elliott. Nice to meet you, man." Sy reached out to shake the man's hand. "I've actually been wanting to thank you."

Elliott looked confused. So was Shane. This guy had broken her heart. What was Sy intent on thanking him for?

"I wanted to thank you for fucking up so bad with this kind, beautiful woman, this graceful and forgiving saint, that she couldn't stand the sight of you any longer. Who knows. If you hadn't been such a dick, she may not have been free to be with me today." all of this, Sy said with Elliott's hand still in his. Shaking it. Apparently not too firmly. Until Sy leaned in very closely and whispered something to Elliott that made him go several shades of puce, and grimace, pulling his hand away, which Sy eventually relinquished.

After Elliott had tucked his tail and ran away, Shane found herself in a far less merry temperament than she'd come in with. She and Sy decided to leave. They said their goodbyes, Shane promising more answers as soon as she could. And they left, her arm around his waist, and his around her shoulder.

About halfway to Sy's truck, Shane heard a solid ping near her ear and the shattering of glass on the pavement nearby, followed by a low growl from deep in Sy's chest. They halted in their stride, Shane turning quickly around, Sy turning more slowly and intentionally in the direction of his would be attacker.

Elliot stood beside the brick exterior of the bar with three other men, none of them within 50 pounds of Sy, and hardly a match for him…individually…but together, she was concerned. She would absolutely try to help fight these guys, but she couldn't take out more than one with the potential weapons she had on her person that she could inventory off hand. Plus, if she had to fight Elliott…he'd get into her head…she knew it. Thank God she didn't know the other guys. She'd hope to get one of them.

"Can I help you gentlemen?" Sy said, back to his polite self, not worried about potentially getting into a street fight in which they were outnumbered two to one.

"Just thought you'd like to tell my buddies here what you said to me in there. I mean, I gave them the gist, but I think they'd like to hear it from you." Elliott puffed.

"Ah, somebody can't keep a secret." Sy sigh scolded him, wagging his finger at him as if he was a misbehaved child. "I was gonna let it all go as long as you left us alone. Did you mention that to them before you got them into a whole mess o' trouble?"

"Tell them, you fuckin' coward."

"Big talk from a guy who had to make it four to one before he confronted me." Sy accused.

"Four to two." Shane squared her shoulders, standing next to Sy, and attempting to make herself look more formidable, which was next to impossible given the fact that the man beside her was a massive army captain and she was just…herself. But she'd be damned if she stood by and let Sy take all of this on when it was all because of her. Plus, she didn't want him to reinjure himself.

"How about you jump in if I need ya, sunshine." He whispered to her. She didn't move or reply. "But ya know, since ya asked so nicely, I will oblige. I told this piss-ant friend of yours after he physically accosted this lovely lady here, in no uncertain terms that if he EVER touched MY GIRLFRIEND again, he'd be begging for death for hours before I had mercy on him and put him out of his misery and that his body would never be found." He eyed each of the men before him, his fiery gaze a physical force upon them, letting his promise to Elliott sink in. "Now if y'all wanna defend a man who would put hands on a woman, and then proceed to physically assault a United States Army veteran like myself, I can come up with similar guarantees for all of ya. And carry them out here tonight. But y'all look like ya've got a lot o' shit ya still wanna get done in this life with limbs and dicks intact. So I would encourage all of you fine gentlemen to walk away from this situation."

Two of the men, surrendered, claiming Elliott hadn't mentioned that he'd hurt Shane or that Sy was a vet. One of the men asked to shake his hand and thanked him for his service. The smallest member of Elliott's group, however, remained with him. Shane thought she recognized him after getting a better look. He'd been at a few events she'd been to with Elliott's friend group. She thought his name was Kyle. Clearly he was one of Elliott's oldest and most loyal friends. He still looked skeptical. Unsure that the two of them alone could take Sy. Shane thought he was right to be worried.

"Come on, Kyle!" Elliott summoned his friend to the fight.

"I dunno, man. He's a soldier and I mean…look at him. Look at us!"

"You pussy." Elliott walked up to Sy.

"You don't want to do this, friend." Sy warned.

"I'm not your friend, asshole. You stole my girlfriend." he swung wildly at the larger man, but missed. He was unsteady, Shane could see now, from excessive drink. She hadn't noticed inside.

Sy remained still for one punch that landed weakly on his jaw, barely displacing it. "Are you done, there, Mayweather? We even? Now that you got to hit me?"

"We are not done. Not until one of us is on the ground." Elliott insisted.

"Fair enough." Sy socked him with a jab straight to the nose, knocking him dizzily to the hard asphalt of the parking lot. Kyle came up to him to drag Elliott to a nearby car as his head lolled forward like a rag doll.

"I'll get him to the ER. Explain to them what happened. You guys get home safe. And thanks for not killing him. Or me." Kyle said as he opened his passenger door. Sy helped heave Elliott's comatose form into the seat and shook Kyle's hand.

Shane's eyes were still wide at the entire chain of events. Her adrenaline supercharged from her readiness to fight alongside her man. Which, she was both relieved and disappointed that she didn't have to do. But there was another thing on her mind. She had been mentally replaying what Sy had said to Elliott played over and over for more reasons than his chivalrous and heroic conduct.

When they were in the car and headed to her house, Shane asked him about it.

"So…you called me your girlfriend tonight." she looked at him.

"Shit, Shane, I'm sorry. I've been wanting to ask ya for days to make things official, and I just haven't found the right time. I was gonna ask you over drinks tonight in front of all your friends, but then that asshole fucked it all up. I even have a gift for you." he fished around in his pocket for a small, flat box, and handed it to her. She flipped up the spring loaded lid of the black velvet box, and inside, on a tiny pillow of black satin was a silver necklace with a silver charm. An "S" in an elaborate script with a small emerald set in the lower hook of the letter. "And if you don't want to make it official, you can still keep the necklace, because the 'S' can be for 'Shane,' and the stone can just be an emerald, and ya don't have to think about it like it's my birthstone, and I--"

"Sy, hush. Of course I want to be your girlfriend, officially. I've been dying to say it myself. And I love the necklace. It's perfect."

"Really? You mean it? All of it?" she'd never seen him so desperate. She had no idea why he thought she might not be serious. But she did have an idea of how to prove it.

"Stay with me tonight, Sy."

"It's still early yet, babe. I'll have plenty of time--"

"No, I mean, I want you. Tonight." How could she be more clear than that?

"Oh, you mean…but I thought you wanted to wait until my treatments were over?" He asked, as if he didn't want to get his hopes up just yet.

"When you were on the phone with my boss that day, you said something that I haven't been able to stop thinking about. Something that's gnawed at my will and resolve ever since. You said that life was too short, and you didn't want to wait to be happy when you could be happy now." she was verging on tears. "Well, I'm tired of waiting too, Sy. You make me happier than I've ever been, and I don't see the point in ignoring what we really want anymore. Because the fact is, Sy…the fact has been for a while now," she laughed at her own foolishness for stifling and ignoring it all this time, "I love you. And I think I have from the moment you first called me ma'am." She was fully crying now, and the tears had broken through down his cheeks, as well.

He pulled into her driveway and jumped out of his truck, still running, headlights blazing into her yard. He jogged around the front, but Shane, being uninjured had caught up to him without the benefit of a head start. He caught her up in his arms as if she'd stay there forever. They sobbed tears of joy and relief as they kissed each other with abandon, silhouettes against the footlights and exhaust courtesy of the Ford Motor Company, the PowerStroke engine roaring a soundtrack for this moment as it idled.

"I love you, Shane. From the moment you found me dreading therapy all alone that first day and cheered me up instantly. I knew." he brush the tears and hairs away from her face and held it, scrutinizing her features in the high-beams as if he intended to draw her from memory.

"I didn't know you were dreading it." she laughed, lightening the mood a bit.

"I was. A lot. Never had a lot of luck, especially recently, with PT. Until you."

She smiled, and looked at the truck, a third party to their romantic moment now more obvious to her.

"You're wasting gas."

"Hang the gas. I'm wasting time with you. You wanna go inside?" he asked. She nodded.

"You go get your purse. I'll be right around."

Sy shut off the truck and took his keys out, locking the vehicle from the fob after his arm was back around Shane and they were walking up her front porch steps.

Up Next: Chapter 10- Myofascial Release

#netflix sand castle #sand castle #captain syverson #captain syverson fanfic #captain syverson x ofc #syverson smut #sigh for sy #Smut #henry cavill #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill smut #henry cavill x ofc

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let-me-write-shit · 4 years

Text

Somebody To You: 18

Friendly reminder to please Like and/or Reblog. It helps more than you think! :)

A/N: this whole story is like the definition of a slow burn. Just wait until next chapter!

Word Count: 3,234

Click Here For Previous Chapter & Other Completed Stories

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CHAPTER EIGHTEEN:

Harry’s attention was forced away from Zoey as Marco reapproached them, smiling brightly. “See what I mean when I say it’s the most beautiful view of Rome?”

Zoey seemed to snap out of it, too, turning to smile sheepishly at the handsome Italian man, “Yes. I was just saying that this is practically a once in a lifetime opportunity for me, so I’m glad I got to come up here and experience this.”

“Ah, well hopefully it won’t be a one time opportunity,” Marco smirked at her, “You did throw the coin into the fountain.”

Harry tried his best not to roll his eyes and the three walked around the dome for a bit longer, taking each angle of the view in. Within fifteen minutes a few girls started to notice Harry, asking for pictures, which Zoey gladly took, before they wordlessly agreed that they better head out before it got too crazy. Marco led the way, flirting with Zoey behind him while Harry watched on, irritation rising. He couldn’t tell if she was into him or not. She was more reserved than she’d typically be, but there was an awful lot of giggling on her part and he didn’t quite like it.

As soon as they reached the bottom and stepped out of the church, they could see the rest of their group waiting right out front on the steps of the church. Harry sighed a breath of relief as they waved them over and turned to Marco, faking a smile and thanking him sincerely for his time and tour and shaking his hand, to which Marco gladly received.

“It really was a wonderful tour. Thank you so much,” Zoey grinned at him.

Marco stepped closer, looking down at her with a slightly lopsided smile, “It was my pleasure, birthday girl. I hope to see you in Rome again,” he pecked either side of her cheeks and then took her hand, kissing it a little longer than necessary.

Zoey blushed, pulling away and smiling one more time before following Harry down to their friends. He didn’t even have a chance to say anything before everyone rounded on her, asking her loads of questions while they continued their way down the steps.

“How do you keep pulling all these hot guys?” Nancy groaned, “If I don’t hook up with one sexy Italian while I’m here, I’m going to be pissed.”

“Me too!” Andy agreed. “Does Marco have a gay twin brother?”

“No, he has a little brother around my age,” Katie said.

“What is this, the sister duo? Are you two genetically engineered to have the best luck with guys?” Nancy huffed, “You got his number, right?” Zoey shook her head no causing Nancy and Andy to gasp.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Andy halted, “Uht uh, your ass better go back there and get his number,” he began pushing her back in the direction of the church.

“What? No. We’re only here for the week. What the hell do I need his number for?”

“You have an opportunity to get with an actual Italian dreamboat. Don’t be dumb! Go get his number! If not for you, then for Katie! Don’t let her miss out on an overseas summer romance!” Nancy argued.

Harry watched along wordlessly with Aurora, waiting to see what she would do. He saw her eyes darting back towards Marco who now sat on the steps looking down at his phone. She hesitated, turning to look at Harry with a questioning gaze. He wanted to tell her not to. Why did they have to keep trying to hook her up with people? It annoyed him that he was annoyed by this. He shouldn’t have been. He knew this. She’s his best friend. She was only ever supposed to be his best friend. He was never supposed to catch feelings. But as she made up her mind and began walking towards Marco, his heart sank, and he knew he’d soon be in for a world of hurt.

He stayed silent on the walk back to the car, once again avoiding eye contact with anyone passing him on the street. He even stayed silent in the car while everyone danced and sang loudly to the radio, making a pit stop at a local grocery store to grab some ingredients for Zoey’s chocolate chip cookies that Katie requested. Aurora was the only one to notice his silence as the rest of them went inside to grab a few things. He didn’t want to go in in fear that he might be recognized, and Aurora stayed back to keep him company.

“Everything alright?” she asked, concerned.

Harry nodded, “Yeah, fine. Just tired from all that walking.”

Aurora stared at him suspiciously, “You sure that’s all?”

It didn’t feel right talking to her about this. He never really got deep into his feelings with Aurora before. This was something he’d typically talk to Zoey about during one of their deep chats. He’d go to her and whine about how he’s stressed out because he’s starting to have feelings with someone he can’t have feelings for. And he knew what Zoey’s response would be. She’d tell him to stop worrying about consequences and repercussions and follow his heart. She’s always telling him to follow his heart and not his mind. To stop worrying about the ‘what ifs’. But how could he confide in her about this when it was about her?

He couldn’t tell Zoey. It could ruin their friendship. And he couldn’t tell Aurora, because he didn’t know how to talk to anyone else about this and didn’t know how she’d react if she found out. So he nodded and simply said, “Yeah, I’m okay.”

“Well, why don’t you take a little nap when we get back? The rest of us can handle dinner.”

That didn’t sound like a bad idea.

He sprung awake from his nap by the startling sensation of his bed bouncing him as Zoey, Nancy, and Aurora jumped up and down on the mattress beside him yelling about dinner being ready and to wake up. As terrified as he was a second ago, he couldn’t help but smile at his friends’ laughter and gladly went with them as they pulled him out of bed.

Harry felt his mood uplift while they ate out back again, having great conversation and laughter while enjoying the view. He forgot all about Marco while he and Zoey picked fun at each other and even recorded a group video, making sure to hide Katie’s glass of wine, for the sister’s parents. He felt his phone go off several times in his pocket, but he ignored it, enjoying the moment too much. They had sat there for at least an hour after eating when the sun finally went down and a romantic glow illuminated the terrace and the pool area.

“Anyone else down for cookies and swimming?” Katie asked, earning cheers of agreement.

Everyone else went into their rooms to change into their bathing suits while Zoey headed to the kitchen to bake cookies. She pulled out all of the ingredients, measured them out, and prepped them in separate bowls, preheating the oven when Harry walked out, shirtless, and in his swim shorts. Her heart rate increased at the sight of him. The man really was a beautiful creature.

“Need any help?” He asked, padding over.

Zoey shook her head, avoiding eye contact, “Uhm...you could grab me a spoon from over there if you want,” she said, sifting the flour and baking soda in a medium-size bowl. As she began to crack some salt into the mixture, Harry walked over, a smirk on his face, placed the spoon on the counter, and got behind her, weaving his arms underneath hers and taking the salt out of her grip, cracking it into the bowl.

She laughed, heart beating faster at the closeness of his body on hers, feeling his firm chest on his back and his hot breath by her ear, “What are you doing?”

“Helping you make cookies, what’s it look like? Not my arm baking challenge. Come on, what’s next? You’re my eyes.”

She giggled, wrapping her arms back behind him as best as she could, “We need to get the butter, brown sugar, and regular sugar in another bowl,” she said as he began to feel around for ingredients.

Harry smacked his hands onto the counter, knocking into the prep bowl filled with granulated sugar. He dumped it into a bigger mixing bowl, followed by the brown sugar, and butter, accidentally sticking his finger into the gooey stick, which made him groan, wiping his finger on Zoey’s shirt.

“Ew, you ass!” she shrieked, laughing and pinching his side. He yelped, cackling as she directed him, “We need to mix it.”

He felt around for the electric mixer and plopped it in the bowl, turning it on. This proved to be more difficult to do as he didn’t have that much reach. The vibrations of the mixer combined with their awkward body entanglement made them shake even more, making Harry press his body up against hers even more. Even shirtless, she could still smell his cologne, the sweet and musky scent making her mouth water, craving something both sweet and salty. Sure, they’ve hugged before. And there was that whole ‘cuddling’ thing when he came to LA during her depressive episode, but a majority of their friendship was spent apart. His physical touch was causing her head to spin.

She cleared her throat, legs feeling heavier, trying her best to push back the urge to take a bite out of him, “We need the vanilla and an egg next.”

“This should be fun,” he said, a smile in his voice as he felt around for the egg, trying his best to gently crack it against the side of the bowl. “Shit!” he breathed as egg splattered everywhere, thankfully most of it getting in the bowl.

He blended the ingredients until incorporated and now it was time to slowly add the dry ingredients. He dumped a bit into the mixing bowl, but as soon as he turned on the mixer, flour went flying, dusting her face and hair with the white mixture. She sputtered, shaking her head as he laughed, continuing to mix.

“What the hell are you two doing?” Nancy laughed, dripping wet with a towel wrapped around her, heading to the fridge. When she realized what was happening, she laughed, “You two are idiots,” grabbing a drink and making her way back out.

Finally, Harry dumped the bag full of chocolate chips into their mixture and stirred so dramatically that he shook half of Zoey’s hair out of her bun, making her belly laugh, a noise he loved to hear. The two of them both got to work forming little balls out of the dough and plopping them on the baking tray and into the oven. The batches would only take ten minutes each, so while they cooked, Harry let her leave to go change into the same baby blue one-piece swimsuit she wore to their last beach trip, her bun now in a high ponytail.

He had just finished pulling the cookies out and was now letting them cool when he noticed her walking back into the kitchen with a towel draped on her arm. His eyes discreetly scanned her body as she inspected the cookies, looking for any hint or sign of a hidden tattoo. He saw none, and now all he could think about was what was under that bathing suit.

“Thanks for the help,” she grinned, turning to face him and leaning back against the counter.

His eyes darted away from her ass and dodgily smiled back, muttering, “No problem.”

She thought she noticed him checking her out and her heart fluttered at the thought. Maybe he was. Maybe all those little moments weren’t all in her head. She blushed at the possibility, “Let’s plate a few and take them out to the rest.”

As they stepped out onto the terrace, the sounds of laughter and splashing rang louder. Zoey bent down by the edge of the pool as everyone swam up to take a cookie, practically inhaling it.

“Uhm, excused me, bitch! Where’s the new bikini we just bought you?” Andy shot, swallowing the last bite of his cookie.

Zoey laughed, putting the now empty plate on a lounge chair and cautiously stepping into the cooled pool, “I’m saving it for my birthday tomorrow.”

Andy nodded and turned to Harry, “What are we even doing tomorrow?”

Harry stood by the lounge chairs finishing up his cookie and said, “I rented out a boat to take us over to a little island of the coast for the day. Then I made our reservations for dinner.”

“Ooh, Harry, you better watch it before you make me boujee.”

“It’s her birthday! We have to do it right!” Harry laughed, taking a running start and darting towards the pool, making a cannonball right beside Zoey, covering her in water.

They all screamed and it started the splash war. Things eventually died down. Harry and Andy were chatting at one end of the pool while Nancy, Katie, and Zoey talked nearby and Aurora was lounging on a chair beside them.

“Hey, have you texted Marco yet?” Aurora asked from the lounge, catching everyone’s attention.

Zoey turned to her, hesitantly responding, “Uh...yeah. We texted a few times.”

“I wonder what his brother looks like,” Katie thought aloud, causing the group to laugh.

Andy smirked, “You should invite them to the island with us tomorrow!”

“You’re just saying that because you want to see a half naked Italian man,” Zoey retorted back at her friend.

“So what if I am?”

Katie’s eyes widened like a lost puppy as she clasped her hands together, “Pleeease?” she begged.

Zoey looked back to see Harry looking down at the water, curious about what he was thinking. Did she risk inviting Marco if there was a chance of Harry liking her? What was she thinking, of course, there wasn’t a chance. She finally gave in and pulled herself out of the pool, heading inside to grab her phone. Harry watched as she strutted away, a piece of him angry at everyone for asking her to do that. He knew they meant well and had no clue what was going on in his head right now, but still. The thought of Zoey with someone else right now made him feel physically sick.

After a minute Zoey came back in the pool and they carried on swimming. Katie had gone in for the night and Harry was the last one in the pool while Nancy, Andy, and Zoey all sat in the lounge chairs beside Aurora. He had just come up from the water when a loud shriek rang and a body collided with his, forcing him back under and clinging onto his back like a koala. He stood back up, shaking his hair and wiping the water from his eyes to see Zoey attached to him, giggling and attempting to get him back under the water.

Harry laughed. He was a lot stronger than her. Their bodies were slippery from the water and he managed to slide her from her back to his front, so that they were chest to chest, her legs on either of his hips. Wrapping his arms tightly around her waist and taking a deep breath, he forced both of them under the water. When they resurfaced, she laughed, gripping onto his shoulders while he attempted to clear his eyes from the water, casually walking around the pool while still holding onto Zoey.

They heard their friends laugh from the side and Aurora said, “You guys are cute.”

The phrase stuck to him. What did that mean? Did she know? Was that her way of giving him her approval? Or was she simply saying that their friendship was innocent? Surely she didn’t know he was starting to like Zoey, otherwise, she wouldn’t have mentioned Marco earlier, right? Or maybe she did that on purpose? Girls were so confusing.

“No, I’m cute,” Zoey responded.

And as much as Harry didn’t want to let go of her, he didn’t want his thoughts to be too obvious, so he took her firmly by the side and tossed her back into the water. A little yelp sounded before she went under.

Once again, Harry and Zoey were the last ones up, still swimming around, finally getting to have their first deep chat in a week, talking about family, and Zoey wanting to go home to visit soon.

“I’m sorry,” Zoey laughed, standing up from her floating position on her back, ”you don’t have to stay up with me. I could stay in here for hours. My parents always called me a fish when I was little.”

Harry shook his head, standing up and floating closer to her, “No it’s fine. I’m not tired yet.”

Zoey smiled, leaping on his side, “Thanks for today. It was fun.”

“I bet you knew most of the historical facts already with all the research you did on Rome,” Harry teased, once again sliding her around so that they were chest to chest, wrapping his arms around her waist and leaning back slightly so that they could float.

Zoey’s hands were situated behind his neck and she laughed, “Yeah, a good chunk. But it was still nice to see them and not have to wait in line.”

Harry chuckled and spun her around a few times which made her giggle more. He slowed down and got more serious, looking up at her, “So. Marco?”

Her eyes avoided his and she solemnly said, “I guess so. Everyone else seems super into him.”

“And you’re not?”

She shrugged, “I don’t know. What do you think?”

Their eyes met and he was pretty sure if you listened close enough you could hear his heart pounding. He was surprised that she couldn’t feel it as her body pressed against his. He suddenly became so aware of how close they were that his nerves began to rise. She was right here. Her face inches from his. He thought he might have noticed her eyes flickering from his down towards his lips, but he couldn’t be too sure because he was doing exactly that. The invisible pull was tugging on him so powerfully. He could kiss her right now. He could try.

But just before he leaned in, Zoey cleared her throat, pulling away and letting her legs fall from his hips into a standing position. She looked uncomfortable and flustered, scratching the back of her head and looking all around before spotting the pool steps, “Uhm, you know what? I’m actually a little tired now. I think I’m going to head in.”

Instantly he felt stupid for almost kissing her, and annoyed at himself for finding it so difficult to control his feelings for her. He never had a problem avoiding someone or pushing people he might have been interested in away. He couldn’t do that with her. She meant too much to him. As selfish as it was, he needed her in his life. Even if it meant that it would be as friends. Though he became increasingly aware of just how much he wanted something more.

KEEP READING

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Taglist for Somebody To You:

@thurhomish , @stilljosiegrossie , @odetostep , @apples2019 , @stylesmioamore

27 notes · View notes

libermachinae · 4 years

Text

Schematics [Or, Another Chance] – Ch. 7, Team

Also available on AO3! Notes: @prowlweek Last day! I went pure fluff on this one, gotta end on a happy Prowl note.

⏳ 🚧 🚓 ⌛ 🏗 🚧 ⏳

Prowl stumbled back through the rift, body swaying as he fought for equilibrium. It had been centuries since he’d last accessed the timestream, and he knew this would be the final time; he’d forgotten the extent of the effect it had on his frame. His spark was burning hot like an inferno within its chamber, the photons excited beyond their normal capacity, and his sensors were trying desperately to recalibrate while he still felt himself about to crash back to the floor.

Large hands caught him, shoulder and waist, and he leaned gratefully into the hold, letting it stabilize him while he waited for his vision to stop spinning.

“Easy, Prowl,” Long Haul murmured into his audial. “We’ve got you.”

He knew it was true. Though he was not well enough yet to see them, he spark still could feel the presence of the others around him, the beacons that had guided him back to his place in time. They were nearby, but not pressing, giving him space to come back on his own terms before they showered him with the worry he knew them to be feeling.

“I know,” he said, his voice rough with static. “I’ll be alright. Just give me a klik.”

“Need anything? Energon?” Sweet Scavenger, who Prowl knew could not stop himself entirely from offering aid, though he still kept his distance while he waited for the okay.

“I think I might purge it,” Prowl admitted. His entire frame felt delicate, hypersensitive as it readjusted to being back in a space physical bodies were meant to inhabit. Long Haul’s fingers, wide and blunt, were about all he could handle at the moment, though bit by bit the zip and sting of off-balance tactile sensors were fading.

“As soon as you’re up for it, we should probably get you somewhere cooler,” Mixmaster’s voice said. “You’re not overheating yet, but it’s a near thing, and if you can’t take in coolant, we’ll need to stay on top of it.”

“I’ll get the fan going.” Retreating footsteps accompanied Bonecrusher’s words. They were a good pair, Prowl mused, a solid unit that bolstered the cohesion of the team as a whole.

“Hey, you still with me, Prowl?” Long Haul asked, gently lifting and tilting Prowl so they were closer to facing each other. His tone, though calm, revealed a hint of anxiety that Prowl’s spark ached to soothe, a feeling greater than the waning discomfort left by the timestream.

Prowl cautiously onlined his optics and smiled at the sight of the familiar faceplate, the gentle glow of an optic band whose purple matched his own.

“Of course,” he said, “where else would I be?”

“None of that slag,” Long Haul chided, his tone light again. “You got this dopey look on your face. Needed to make sure you didn’t fry your processor or something.”

Prowl realized that he was smiling. It was something he did a lot now, though he hadn’t realized it before going back and seeing how foreign the concept had once been to him. He remembered the constant anger, the fear, the ever-present sense and expectation of betrayal, but in a distant way. Those were memories he’d learned how to suppress and dilute, so the old emotions didn’t infest the present and drive him to the same behaviors that had so nearly cost him this. He didn’t want to think about those things right now, so instead he focused on the feeling of Long Haul’s hands, the smell of so many living engines around him.

“Was just thinking,” he said.

“About?”

“The team.” He tossed his gaze aside to look on the assembled members and his optics landed on Hook, stood behind Mixmaster and Scavenger and watching Prowl was a nervousness that should have had no place here. Before he could think about what he was doing, he was wriggling to get free, and despite a concerned hesitation Long Haul did let him go. Prowl stumbled, reached out and let Scavenger be his support.

“Hook,” he got out, and at the request the named teammate stepped forward, taking Prowl’s arms when they were offered to help him keep his balance. Prowl leaned in, capturing Hook’s lips in a warm, soft kiss that tasted of iron and crackled with a sparkling twinge of electricity. A gentle glossa swept across his bottom lip and Prowl hummed, sinking into the feeling he’d steadfastly refused himself in the confines of the timestream.

The kiss lasted a klik, probably longer, and Prowl only broke it off because he felt himself starting to get dizzy again. Still, he stayed close and rested his forehelm against Hook’s, grateful when the other lowered his optic lights so they weren’t glaring into each other.

“Did I do alright?” Hook asked, quiet. It wasn’t a secret, what they’d done, but there was still something private about it, something shared only between the two of them. Prowl’s processor was still reeling from the revelation that Hook had managed to keep it a secret for all these years, trying to compute how many times he’d missed clues or near-admissions.

“You did perfectly,” Prowl said. “I’m so proud, my dear, and grateful.”

“Grateful?”

“You gave us this chance,” Prowl said. “Everyone has played a role in making it work, but you were the one who made it possible. I always knew that, but never the full extent of it.”

“I was just following your orders,” Hook said, though he was beaming under the praise. It was a gorgeous sight, and Prowl could not help stealing another kiss to that grin before he reclaimed his place.

“And I, yours,” he pointed out. “We make a good team.”

“We do,” Hook agreed.

“We all do?”

Prowl turned to look at Scavenger, still standing nearby with a posture that said he wanted to be involved but didn’t want to invade their moment. If his frame had been up to it, Prowl might have laughed, but instead he let go of Hook with one hand to reach out to Scavenger, drawing him into their huddle. He leaned over to kiss Scavenger, too, grateful for though unable to reciprocate his enthusiastic nibbling.

“The snoggers are at it again,” Long Haul complained. Prowl broke off the kiss to smirk up at their teammate, who stared down on them with his arms crossed and posture unimpressed. “Go easy on him, Scav. Don’t need him offlining because we literally blew his processor out.”

“If you’re so jealous, Long Haul, you could have gotten that mouth with your frame overhaul like I suggested,” Prowl pointed out.

“Nah, somebody on this team’s gotta maintain some dignity,” Long Haul said as his stance relaxed and he stepped forward, doing the best he could to wrap the three of them in an outer layer of hug. The closeness was a little much for Prowl, but it wasn’t uncomfortable yet and he knew, despite whatever fronts they put up, they needed assurance that he was okay.

To perhaps everyone’s benefit, it didn’t last too long.

“Hey, hey, this is the exact opposite of what I said,” Mixmaster said, stepping forward to break up the impromptu cuddle until it was just Hook and Prowl hanging onto each other. “Prowl’s temperature is rising. Hook, get him in front of that fan before he melts into a puddle of slag.”

“Sure thing, Mix,” Hook said, looping an arm around Prowl’s waist so they could walk over to the cooled pocket of the cave they’d set up ahead of time. Scattered around were a few stacks of extra energon, a basic med kit, and a few more heavy-duty supplies in case they’d needed to hold him together while they rushed to a proper hospital. Bonecrusher was standing by their industrial fan, adjusting its angle while Prowl sat down so he was in the center of the blast. Despite the noise and the extra sensory information getting force through his doorwings, the cool air felt wonderful against his hot plating, and he allowed his optics to dim a moment as he savored it.

“You good there, Prowl?” Hook asked from above. He’d stayed by Prowl’s side but hadn’t sat down yet.

“Could be better. Here.” Prowl reached up to lightly tug on Hook’s hand. As soon as his teammate was sitting, Prowl leaned over to cuddle against his side, grateful both for the contact and the support of a body much more stable than his own. Hook’s arm wrapped around his back, gently squeezing his shoulder.

“Aw, so sweet,” Mixmaster said, standing off to the side so he wouldn’t be in the way of the fan. There was a glint in his optic that Prowl knew too well.

“Are you taking image captures?”

“Just figured Springer will want proof when we tell him that we got you safely back from the timestream, then lost you again because you couldn’t keep your hands off Hook.” The mech whose rescue mission Prowl had framed as a bounty hunt all those years ago had asked to be kept informed of their status.

“Can you blame him?” Hook asked, though he started to shift away, something Prowl could not abide by.

“My temperature is dropping,” he pointed out. He leaned more of his weight on Hook, preventing him from moving unless he wanted to risk dropping Prowl on the ground. “Maybe not as quickly as if Hook weren’t here, but it’s not at such a critical level for that to be an issue.”

Mixmaster looked like he had more argument in him, but then Bonecrusher appeared behind him, wrapping his arms around Mix’s midsection while his chin came to rest on his shoulder.

“It’s okay, Mixer,” he said, so soft Prowl knew it was only intended for Mixmaster; that the rest of them could hear it was merely incidental of the cave’s acoustics. “We got him back and he’s safe. The worst part’s over.”

Prowl saw Mixmaster minutely lean back into the touches, his optics flickering as Bonecrusher’s hands brushed along delicate seams, playing at the wires underneath. It was an attractive scene, but Prowl knew that if he spent too long watching his frame would start to overheat again. He turned his attention to Hook, who he wasn’t surprised to find was looking at him in turn.

“What?” he asked, feeling playful.

“Just glad this worked out, Prowl,” Hook said, expression relaxed but a little more serious. “And, uh, sorry that I kept this a secret for so long. What with you trusting us and all.”

Prowl’s processor scrambled for something to say to that. To buy himself time, he kissed Hook again, offlining his optics so he could focus on the feeling of soft lips, smooth glossa. In the background, Bonecrusher and Mixmaster’s hushed conversation had devolved into pleasured moans and hums, and nearby the increasing pitch of busy engines said that Scavenger and Long Haul were finding their own fun. Later, once they were back in their own ship and Prowl didn’t feel like his frame was at risk of rattling apart, he was going to drag all of them into their berth and savor each one, their unique tastes, delighted voices and rumbling engines.

He’d forced himself to forget how willing he’d been to lose it all, how he’d been ready to sacrifice their lives as well as his own in his reckless rescue mission. The ache of four million years of exhaustion had still been heavy in his spark, and he’d hoped that some part of the plan, getting back at the Decepticons for what had been done to him, saving Springer from the timestream, letting himself extinguish in the attempt, would be the thing to finally ease it. He’d refused to know then what he did now, and he pressed deeper into the kiss, hoping Hook would understand it as his own apology.

When they broke apart, Prowl did not immediately online his optics, but lay his head on Hook’s shoulder, letting the familiar frame hold him up as it had for so long.

“We’re a team,” he said, which he now knew meant, in language the Decepticons had used to keep from sounding too much like squishy, softsparked Autobots, I love you.

#maccadam #prowl week #prowlastator #prowl #constructicons #transformers #my writing #longfic #schematics #team

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themurphyzone · 5 years

Text

104 Words for 104 Days: Cook

Enjoy!

The roof of Vanessa’s bedroom was ripped off by her overzealous robot brother at six on a Saturday morning. Saturdays were meant for sleeping in, but apparently her dad’s habit of waking up at some forsaken hour to scheme had rubbed off on Norm.

“WAKEY WAKEY CHOCOLATE CAKEY!” Norm cheered, in the closest imitation to cheering that his voice chip would ever produce. “GOOD MORNING, SIS!”

Vanessa rolled over, burying her face into a pillow. If she ignored him, he’d go away once he got bored.

“WHAT A BEAUTIFUL DAY TO MAKE BREAKFAST IN BED FOR OUR DAD!”

She seriously needed to invest in noise-cancelling earmuffs.

“Father’s Day was last month, Norm,” Vanessa mumbled into her pillow. “Or two months ago. I don’t know, the dates all blend in summer and I don’t feel like getting up to find a calendar.”

“WOULD YOU LIKE TO SEE MY PUPPY DOG EYES? I’VE BEEN PRACTICING SO I CAN GET DAD TO PLAY CATCH WITH ME!”

Vanessa jolted awake. She’d seen Norm cry motor oil once while trying the puppy dog technique, and it was very messy business. She had no wish to repeat that incident ever again.

“I’m up!” she snapped, leaping out of bed and snatching her hairbrush off the nightstand. “Put the roof back, let me get dressed, don’t leak motor oil into my room, and maybe I’ll consider helping you!”

“I’LL BE OUTSIDE!” Norm chirped.

Vanessa buried her face into her hands. She wondered how Candace managed to survive being an older sister.

O – O – O – O – O

By some stroke of luck, her mom was on an overnight camping trip for the weekend without wifi, saving Vanessa from any awkward explanations.

Apparently Norm had spent the past few days collecting ingredients, since the storage closet was almost bursting with flour, sugar, salt, and baking powder. The refrigerator was full of blueberries and butter.

She wasn’t sure if Heinz was aware that his living space had essentially been converted into a bakery, or if he was taking advantage of the ingredients and scheming to create a recipe for evil blueberry muffins.

“I DID ALL MY CALCULATIONS, AND THE PROJECTED TOTAL IS SIX HUNDRED BLUEBERRY MUFFINS,” Norm said. “PLEASE HELP ME BRING THESE INGREDIENTS TO THE KITCHEN SO WE CAN GET STARTED.”

He handed her a recipe page and chef’s hat, then gathered a shelf’s worth of items before heading to the kitchen. Sighing, Vanessa grabbed a bag of flour and trudged after him.

“Try not to burn down the kitchen,” Vanessa warned as she dumped a cupful of sugar into a mixing bowl. “Explosions are Dad’s thing.”

“DON’T WORRY, SIS. I’VE LEARNED FROM DAD’S MISTAKES. I KNOW EFFECTIVE WAYS TO BRING THE TRI-STATE AREA TO ITS KNEES AND HOW TO APOLOGIZE TO PLATYPI WHEN YOU ACCIDENTALLY CHEAT ON THEM WITH A PANDA BEAR.”

“I don’t consider that a strange sentence,” Vanessa admitted. “Should I be concerned?”

“NOPE.”

“You’re right. Probably not worth it.”

Norm’s fingers retracted, an assortment of measuring spoons replacing them. He dug the spoons into the baking powder, tossing it into the large bowl that was too high for Vanessa to reach. When he was finished, Vanessa grabbed her own spoon and added the baking powder to her own bowl, which was thankfully sized for a normal human.

“Hey, this thing’s jammed again! That’s it, I’m swearing vengeance against locks! And locksmiths to an extent too, but mostly the locking mechanisms themselves!”

A banging noise persisted in the background, and Vanessa was tempted to keep it there so she didn’t fall asleep on the spot.

“PLEASE IGNORE THAT. THAT WAS…MY…MIXTAPE. I FORGOT TO TURN IT OFF,” Norm said, intently stirring the contents of his bowl.

Vanessa rolled her eyes. “Sure, Dad swearing revenge against an oddly specific object just happens to be on your mixtape. You locked him in his room last night, didn’t you?”

“NOOO?” Norm replied, drawling the syllable for way too long.

“You’re a terrible liar, Norm,” Vanessa said, handing her finished bowl to Norm and starting over with another one. “Do you want me to teach you how to lie properly? You might not have to use that skill around Dad, but it’ll come in handy if you need to lie to anyone else.”

“ALRIGHT. I’LL JUST LIE TO PERRY THE PLATYPUS.”

“No. Do NOT lie to Perry the Platypus. He will give you his ‘I am so disappointed in you’ glare and look like one of those really sad animals on an ASPCA commercial at the same time. I was on the receiving end of that once after I lied about a date, and I felt like I kicked a million puppies for a week afterwards. It’s not a fun experience.”

It took forty minutes to get all the dry ingredients into the bowl and gather the remaining items, but Norm was surprisingly fun to talk to during the monotonous work. It wasn’t like talking with her mom, who was one of the few adults she respected, or her dad, who talked more than he listened. Perry gave good advice, but he could be a brick wall on occasion. She had to project an air of apathy and rebellion with her peer group, and she had to be careful about what she said around Monty.

Norm was surprisingly insightful, and even witty with his own sarcastic quips. Despite admiring Heinz and wanting his approval, he wasn’t blind to the man’s flaws either. He just didn’t have the experience in handling him yet.

And Vanessa didn’t mind giving a few pointers.

“I know I complain a lot about Dad, but I care about him too,” Vanessa said. “He spent nearly a decade searching for a discontinued doll that I wanted as a kid. He didn’t have to. It was just one of those heavily marketed toys for the holiday season, and I was never upset about not getting it. I moved on after a while. But Dad never forgot that conversation. That’s the thing about him. He might be dense as a rock to what you actually want, but he’ll jump at any opportunity to give you what he thinks you want. Sometimes it works, sometimes it can be infuriating.”

Norm was silent for a while. Then he replaced his spoons with fingers and grabbed several boxes of blueberries from the fridge. “USING YOUR ADVICE, I THINK I’LL SIT HIM DOWN FOR A TALK AND EXPLAIN WHAT I WANT FROM HIM SO HE DOESN’T HAVE TO GUESS.”

“Best idea I’ve heard from you all day,” Vanessa said. “And if he tries to bail out, get Perry to sit on him.”

Norm laughed and moved onto the eggs, preparing to drop the entire carton into the mix.

“Norm, you’d better fold in the blueberries,” Vanessa said, quickly stopping him before anything inedible could ruin the mixture. She grabbed a clean bowl and expertly cracked several eggs, tossing the eggshells into a plastic bag. “I agree with Dad on how humans don’t eat eggshells or cartons.”

“YOU AGREE WITH DAD?”

“Yeah, I know. Put it on the record.”

Fifty eggs and seventy-five boxes of blueberries later, Norm’s built-in mixers made short work of the batter. Soon it was golden and thick, ready to be ladled into the muffin trays for baking. Still, Vanessa felt like they were missing something.

There was an unused container of sugar almost as long as her arm sitting on the counter. With such a large amount of ingredients, it was easy to miss one.

“Norm, we forgot about that sugar container,” Vanessa said.

Norm unscrewed the lid and dumped the white grains into the mix, giving it several quick stirs with his spoons. When he was finished, he started ladling the mix into each hole on the muffin tray. Vanessa hadn’t realized they owned so many muffin trays, or that the oven could hold eight at a time, or that Norm could transfer heat from his systems to make them bake faster.

Norm even understood basic safety and poured his undivided attention on the muffins, making sure none of them burned or set off the smoke detectors. It was good to know someone in the penthouse had enough sense to observe safe electrical practices.

Confident that Norm could take care of the kitchen by himself, Vanessa went to the bathroom to wash the sugar and eggs off her hands. When she came out, she found a very sheepish Perry handing a generous portion of his salary to her dad, who was nursing a black eye and bruised hand.

“-so next time, warn a guy before you knock down their door! The key was literally on the peg! You could’ve just grabbed that!” Heinz scolded, holding a bag of frozen peas to his eye. Then surprise overtook the scowl when he spotted Vanessa, and the toothy grin looked pretty ridiculous with half his face covered by frozen veggies. “Morning, Vanessa. What are you doing here? I thought you’d be sleeping in at Charlene’s like a normal teen.”

Vanessa shrugged. “Normal teens don’t have robot brothers who destroy roofs at six on a Saturday morning. Hey, Perry. I didn’t think you’d be here this early.”

Perry tilted his fedora to her.

“I sent a distress signal to OWCA since I was locked in my bedroom. And then a certain agent who I won’t name decided to knock my door off its hinges while I was leaning against it,” Heinz muttered. “In addition to teaching robots certain bad habits like breaking people’s homes. I told you he’d be influenced by your dynamic entrances!”

Offended, Perry pointed accusingly at Heinz.

“Well, it’s not my side he gets it from!”

Heinz stood up, discarding the frozen peas on the couch. Perry got into a fighting stance, but before either of them could start brawling, Norm strolled into the living room, cheerily humming the Muffin Man song as he set a tray of blueberry muffins on the coffee table.

“GOOD MORNING, DAD! GOOD MORNING, PERRY THE PLATYPUS!” Norm said. “VANESSA AND I MADE BLUEBERRY MUFFINS FOR YOUR ENJOYMENT!”

“I’m not done with you, Perry the Platypus,” Heinz said, his eyes lighting up at the sight of the tray. “But we’ll continue this after muffins.”

He nearly swallowed a blueberry muffin whole, then his eyes widened. He rushed to the kitchen, coughing and sputtering all the way as he hurriedly gulped down a glass of water.

Vanessa and Perry sampled a small piece, grimacing as the saltiness exploded across their tongues. And to think Heinz actually survived after eating a whole muffin.

“ANALYSIS SHOWED THAT THE LAST CONTAINER WAS SALT, NOT SUGAR,” Norm said, projecting a holographic image of a chemical formula.

“You couldn’t have said that before we used it?” Vanessa sighed.

“FORGIVE ME. MY OBSESSION WITH IMPRESSING DAD TENDS TO OVERTAKE MY RATIONAL THOUGHTS.”

“At least you’re self-aware,” Vanessa muttered.

“You made how many of these things?” Heinz asked incredulously, taking note of just how much flour, salt, batter, and leftover muffins coated his kitchen. “Alright, do you know how weird it is that this place is a mess and for once I’m not the culprit behind it? I’ve heard of role reversal, but that’s just weird.”

Vanessa agreed as she broke out the cleaning supplies. “So, clean up and blueberry muffins at the café?”

“DO I GET TO TRY COFFEE?”

“No!” Heinz said, pulling on a pair of gloves. “Your systems are for making good muffins and assisting me in evil, not for caffeine.”

Perry and Vanessa shared a knowing smile when Heinz wasn’t looking. It was progress.

“Dad, you can go scheme or something if you want,” Vanessa said. “Norm and I can clean. It’s our mess.”

Heinz shrugged, continuing to scrub at a stubborn crack where flour had settled. “I know, but you and Norm and Perry the Platypus are always helping me clean my messes. I want to return the favor.”

“Thanks, Dad,” Vanessa smiled.

“Anytime, sweetie.”

Courtesy of Perry, a new photo was displayed on the mantle within a week. Heinz was covered head to toe in flour after a mishap with a leftover bag, Norm was rebooting after his squirrel escaped from its wheel and wreaked further havoc, and Vanessa was trying to do damage control around the sink area.

It was the best photo she’d ever seen of her family.

#phineas and ferb #vanessa doofenshmirtz #norm the robot #heinz doofenshmirtz #perry the platypus #fanfiction #104 words for 104 days

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meganshinsou-tm · 5 years

Text

Sugarcoated. (m)

↳ chapter sixteen: unnie

❧ genre: pro-hero hitoshi, adoptive siblings, happy ending

❧ chapter warnings: none

[multi-chap masterlist] [previous chapter - next chapter]

"Alright cutie, what flavor? Strawberry, chocolate, vanilla or funfetti?"

Eri gasped and looked up at you with glimmering ruby eyes, "Funfetti! I love the pretty colors!"

You smiled and nodded as you held her hand and walked about the baking isle, gathering all the ingredients needed to make a super colorful and sweet cake. Hitoshi trailed behind pushing the grocery cart that was full of food for the week. Now, he let you take the reigns since he knew absolutely nothing about baking.

If it were up to him he would've just grabbed a box of pre-made cake mix but you didn't do that. Instead you gathered up baking powder, salt and sugar, flour and a lot of sprinkles. You also grabbed other items to make icing, to which again he would've chosen jar icing. He could tell that from now on, when he wanted something sweet that he wasn't going to get it from a box, you'd die before doing such a thing.

Together the three of you made your way around the store for any other items before going to wait in line at the cash register. You picked Eri up and swung her around in circles as you stood there, making her giggle and squeal. Hitoshi watched on with a big smile, thinking of how he could totally get used to something like this in the future. For now though, he liked that this arrangement was only temporary, he was selfish, no lie, and wanted you all to himself for a while.

Holding Eri on your hip you laughed and brushed her hair out of her blushing face. She worked on catching her breath from all the giggles and touched your cheek. "Your scratch is almost gone, that's good."

You nodded and grabbed her hand from your face, "Mhm, and it's all thanks to Toshi. He's been great at taking care of me!"

"You can expect your bill in the mail!" He smirked and leaned over, placing a kiss to your cheek.

You rolled your eyes and nudged him with your elbow. Eri giggled, small fingers twirling and playing with your hair, she had a look on her face that made you believe she had a question so you asked if she needed something.

"I was just wondering; can I call you Unnie?"

Hitoshi quirked a purple brow and smirked. "What are you even saying weirdo?"

You slapped the back of his head, making him chuckle and hold his hands up as a type of apology and proceeded to explain to Hitoshi.

"It's just a Korean term for a girl older than you, like a big sister."

"Eri how do you even know Korean slang?" Hitoshi asked with a bewildered look.

You and the little girl both looked at him with serious as can be faces.

"BTS," you replied in unison with a nonchalant tone as if this were something completely normal.

Hitoshi smirked and started to place all the groceries on the register belt, mumbling a tease under his breath. You turned your foot up behind you and kicked his butt playfully before walking to the front of the register counter, leaving your boyfriend to do all the work.

"Eri you can call me whatever you want. If Unnie makes you happy then I'm fine with it, I actually like it to be honest!"

Eri smiled and hugged your neck, "Okay then, from now on you're my Unnie!"

Once you got home, everyone helped to unload groceries and put them up. Hitoshi started on dinner, you and Eri started on dessert. While the oven pre-heated, you mixed together dry ingredients and set them aside to work on mixing the other items. You held the electric mixer as Eri added butter to your dry ingredients, laughing when she straight up dumped a chunk of it into the cake flour causing a cloud of the powder to envelop her face.

Alternately she'd add things as you mixed them, sometimes messing up but it was okay and it made your time fun. Hitoshi leaned over the counter and watched as you struggled together sometimes with the mixing, having to switch between making sure you did mix while Eri helped and you sometimes took over to make sure certain things were done right so the cake would cook properly. You had to ask Hitoshi for help at one point.

"Isn't there an easier way to do this? You know to mix and add at the same time?"

You laughed and wiped your cheek, leaving a streak of flour on it. "Yeah, it's called a stand-mixer."

You released Hitoshi from his duty as you and Eri continued and got your baking pans ready. The lavenderette knit his brows and questioned why you didn't have one if you had all these other baking utensils.

"Because, I never had an extra $300 to just throw down for one! I've managed just fine so far, so leave us alone and get our food done!"

Shinsou laughed and kissed your cheek and ruffled Eri's hair. Quickly, he snuck the tip of his pinky into the raw finished cake batter, snickering and sucking it clean as Eri whined and slapped him.

"I hope you get sohmanela!"

You and Hitoshi snorted at her adorable attempt at the big word.

Eri had the honors of dumping all the sprinkles into the batter and had a little too much fun as she piled them high. The cake would definitely be colorful! After you poured the batter into the pans Hitoshi helped you place them into the oven and set a timer. You and Eri gave each other messy high fives, causing flour to cloud the air.

"Now, time to make icing!"

As you and Eri made colorful bright pink icing, Hitoshi finished dinner and set it on low to keep it warm. He walked over to the other side of the counter where you both sat that morning and grabbed his camera from out of his bag. He wasn't going to miss capturing these overly sweet and messy moments.

Between shots, he'd steal dollops of the icing, causing you and Eri to chew him out. Finally you had enough and stuck your own finger into the icing, getting a big dollop of it on the end of your digit. You offered it to Hitoshi with a sweet smile, to which he got a picture of. He leaned over the counter to remove the icing from your finger but once he was close enough you smirked and turned your finger over, smearing the pink glob across the bridge of his nose and cheek.

"Oh you're dead!" Hitoshi chuckled and placed the camera on the counter.

You stuck out your tongue, dodging as Hitoshi sprinted around the counter and lunged after you. He was quick to turn on his feet and chase you down the hall, catching you in no time and tackling you to the floor. His knees straddled your hips and his calves held your shins down while he pinned your forearms to the floor.

"Eri! Bring me the biggest spoonful of icing, Unnie wants some of it!"

"Hah, she won't turn on me!" You replied with a smile.

"Wanna bet?"

Only a few seconds passed and you heard little footsteps coming your way, you were positive Eri was coming to your rescue. That was until she knelt down next to both of you with a literal spoonful of pink icing.

You've never felt so betrayed.

"Here you go Unnie!" She innocently said as she went to hand you the spoon. She truly believed the lie from Hitoshi's mouth.

"I'll take that for her Eri, thank you. How about you go and pick out a movie for us to watch?" Hitoshi suggested as he took the spoon.

Eri smiled and turned around to skip back down the hall, leaving you on your own. Hitoshi smiled and wasted no time spreading the thick icing all over your neck, chin and mouth. You squirmed under him, laughing and whining at the weird feeling of the sweet substance.

"Toshi! You're making a mess!"

"Don't worry sweetness, I'm gonna clean it," he smirked and dropped the spoon on the ground.

Leaning down, Hitoshi dragged his tongue up and across the expanse of your neck, licking away the sweet icing that dressed it. You went from whining to softly moaning as his warm muscle cleaned your skin of the pink substance. When he got to one part that had a legit lump of the icing, his lips latch around your neck as his tongue scooped it off and he lightly sucked when he released you. He continued this torture up to your chin, making you bite your lip and taste the amount that was on your mouth. One of his hands released your arms and cupped the side of your neck. You weren't even thinking of trying to throw him off. You just laid there under his total control and let Hitoshi lick you clean. Once he got to your mouth his violet eyes sparkled at you and he licked his lips with a hum. You looked back at him with glossy eyes as you panted under him.

"Looks like I'm making more than one mess!" He chuckled and licked your top lip.

You whined as he took his time, pulling back each time you tried to lick or kiss his own lips. "Toshi-ah!"

Shinsou smirked down at you, brushing his thumb over the last bit of icing on your lips, "You know, I kind of like your whining now. It's cute and sort of sexy." The hero placed his thumb to your lips and your (e/c) eyes looked at him as if waiting for a command, to which he gladly gave. "Open your mouth cutie, taste what you made."

Smiling, you did as told and Hitoshi inserted his thumb softly onto your tongue. Your lips wrapped around his digit as your tongue swirled and collected the pink icing, sucking his thumb clean. Hitoshi tightened his grip on the wrist he still held and he groaned lowly. He lowered his face to yours and replaced his thumb with his lips, finally kissing you.

You hummed as he rewarded you, your free hand cupping the back of his head and tangling into his purple locks. You gripped tightly, turning his head to the side and making him growl. Your tongue escaped from your mouth and licked clean the streak of icing he still had on his face.

Right as Hitoshi chuckled and bit your cheek playfully, the timer in the kitchen went off. The ringing of it breaking both of your thoughts. Hitoshi still kept his teeth latched onto your cheek, growling in aggravation. You giggled and pushed at his chest.

"I need to go get that Toshi, before it burns."

Finally he released you, cheek and all, and stood to his feet. Holding out his hand you took it and he helped you up, wrapping his arm around your shoulder and kissing the top of your head. "We're finishing this later sweetness!"

After dinner, you all had a piece of cake, Eri had two. As she took a bath, you and Hitoshi put up all the leftovers and cleaned the kitchen. When you were done, you leaned back against the counter and sighed. Hitoshi smiled and dried his hands, tossing the hand towel to the side and placing himself in front of you. His hands flattened on the counter behind you and you kissed each other as your arms wrapped around his waist.

"Man, I'm exhausted!"

Hitoshi chuckled and brushed your hair out of your face, resting his hand on your cheek. "Does that mean you had a good weekend?"

"I did! It was definitely one of the best! Thank you again so much for taking me to Disney. Thank you for everything you've gotten for me, even though you didn't need to. And most of all thank you for taking care of me."

"It's my pleasure cutie, I'll always be here to take care of and spoil you. You deserve it all and more!"

With a smile you wrapped your arms around Hitoshi tighter and hugged him close. His own arms wrapped around you and he kissed your head. You sighed and squeezed him, inhaling his scent and melting into his hold. "I love you so much Hitoshi."

"I love you too more. How about after we get the kid to bed, we take a bath and I take care of you some more."

"Aww Toshi, that sounds amazing!

Not much longer after, you were drying Eri off and helping her into her pj’s. She started to doze off as you brushed out her hair, a cute yawn falling from her little lips. You smiled and put the brush down on the sink counter and scooped Eri into your arms and carried her to the bedroom. She nuzzled her cheek on your shoulder, her hands playing with your hair as you rubbed her back on the way. You pulled back the covers and laid her down, tucking her in tight. She smiled sleepily and rubbed her ruby eyes.

"Hitoshi should be in here soon, he just had to go take out the trash. Do you need anything else before we tell you goodnight?"

"Will you sing to me? That song you were singing earlier to the baby?"

"Of course I will."

Hitoshi made his way down the hall and to Eri's room, he could hear your voice softly singing. Smiling, he placed himself against the door-frame, watching as your hand rubbed Eri's back and you lulled her to sleep. Shinsou couldn't believe how naturally this came to you and how much his little sister already adored you.

It made him think of your own family and how you mentioned that you take care of your niece and nephew from time to time. You had yet to speak of them anymore since that night at Aizawa's. The hero didn't want you to neglect your own loved ones all for him and Eri and he truly would love to know more about your own family so he figured he'd talk to you later about it.

Walking into the room quietly he sat on the other side of the bed. Looking over, Hitoshi could see Eri was passed out, clutching her Chimmy plushie close. You looked over to him as you finished out the lullaby you had sang earlier.

Hitoshi was head over heels for your voice. It was angelic and like velvet and the way you looked when singing was something else. He could tell you weren't really singing to your full potential though, which only made him want to experience more. Hitoshi wanted to see you lose yourself in one really good song and take note of your expressions, if your eyes closed or hands moved, how your mouth would work. The artist in him was craving to witness such an act.

You leaned over and placed a kiss to Eri's head, tucking her blankets tighter around her little body. Hitoshi leaned over and kissed her as well and pet her hair. You both quietly said goodnight as you turned off her lamp, leaving her room dark except for the pink night light that showered her walls with hearts. Hitoshi took your hand and you both walked out, quietly shutting the door behind you.

Immediately you made your way to his bathroom where he ran the bath water. Hitoshi took it upon himself to slowly strip you of your clothes, placing kisses on every inch of your skin as it was exposed. You removed his clothes in return, your fingers trekking down his muscular arms and chest as he pulled your face to his and kissed you.

Hitoshi helped you into the tub and you sat between his legs, letting him get to work on rubbing and massaging your shoulders and back. Hums and sighs would escape from your chest as his fingers diligently put pressure on all the right spots and his lips showered your skin in kisses. Next, Hitoshi washed your hair and cleaned your skin, refusing to let you even lift a finger. The hero really enjoyed just spoiling you for no reason at all other than he loved you. Once done, he sank back against the tub and you turned to face him, laying your cheek on his chest as his arms wrapped around you.

After all the pampering he did you were completely relaxed and like putty in his hands. Hitoshi placed loving kisses to your head as one hand gently rubbed up and down your spine. Your own arms were wrapped around him, your fingers caressing his lower back under the warm water. The two of you sat there in silence for a good ten minutes as he loved and held you. He could tell that second by second as he was bathing you that you were becoming more and more sleepier. You had barely said a word the entire time and just hummed and smacked your lips here and there. Shinsou found your sleepy self utterly adorable, like some kind of puppy.

Your head moved against Hitoshi's chest and you smiled softly at him. Hand coming up to touch his face and slowly drag down his neck until it rested on his chest by your cheek. Hitoshi noticed how heavy your eyes were getting and how your breathing was becoming slower and steadier as you lazily smiled.

"You're so wonderful Toshi, like really. You're overly sweet, kind, caring, really beautiful and just – I don't even know how to express how much I love you."

Hitoshi chuckled and kissed your forehead, "You're exhausted and have a case of word vomit sweetheart, I should get you out and into bed."

"I'm serious Hitoshi," you shook your head and yawned, face nuzzling into his chest. "I don't know what I'd do without you, if you didn't ask me to take this job when you did ... I don't know how much longer I would've lasted in this world."

Shinsou's purple brows furrowed and he held you tighter, in the state you were in right now he couldn't really tell if you were joking or not. "What do you mean by that (Y/N)?"

You yawned and clutched Hitoshi closer, cradling into his body. "What do I mean by what Toshi?"

Frowning, Hitoshi realized you were definitely too far gone now as you had quickly forgotten what you had even said. He smiled and kissed your head, whispering that it was nothing.

Carefully the hero sat forward, his hand cupping and keeping your head on his chest, his arms tightly holding you as he stood from his position and removed the both of you from the tub. Grabbing towels, Hitoshi wrapped one around you and sat you on the bathroom counter, working on drying your body as you were half asleep but conscious enough to hold yourself up and listen to his instructions. After he dried himself off he carried you into his bedroom and placed you on the bed before digging for one of his own shirts and briefs. You whined and groaned as he moved you around only making him chuckle. Finally he laid you down in the bed and under the covers before going to put his own pair of briefs on.

"Toshi-ah! I'm cold~"

"Oh my god, you're so needy," he groaned playfully as he turned off the lights and crawled into the bed beside you.

"It's your fault!" You replied with a sleepy smile.

Instantly you wrapped and molded to his side, your legs interlocking and your arms buried between his chest and yours as you burrowed into him and the covers. Shinsou wrapped around you as well, one hand on the small of your back and gently rubbing as the other played in your hair and he pressed his cheek to your forehead before gently pulling your face up to place a kiss on your lips. You hummed as you kissed back, lazily biting on his lip when he broke the kiss.

Shinsou tucked the blankets tighter around the two of you and nuzzled his own face into your hair as he pulled you back into him. The two of you both falling fast asleep in no time.

#sugarcoated #hitoshi shinsou #hitoshi shinsou x reader #bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #bnha x reader #mha x reader #fanfiction #bnha fanfic #mha fanfic #fluff #friends to lovers

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snarkwriteswrasslin · 4 years

Text

shelter; adam page [two]

Notes:

Originally posted on my main, and literally no one asked for this. I haven’t written a third part but.. I plan to keep this one going and so, it’s getting transferred to this blog. I swear, soon.. Soon I’ll write a third chapter to it. Hell,maybe even sooner than you think. ;P.

Summary:

It’s only been one night / day so far and already the tension -and awkward flirty close moments of lingering sexual tension, is so thick you can cut through it with a knife. A trip to the grocery store and lots of flirty bantering back and forth.

Pairing:

Adam Hangman Page x OFC, Birdie McGregor

Warning:

alcohol tw possible. mentions of sheltering in place / covid-19, kind of a slow burn to it and kind of not.

CHAPTER TWO : WHATS THE HARM

Having totally forgotten about Adam’s arrival back at the house the night before, I got up when I heard my alarm going off nearby. Yawning, I stretched my arms up and rubbed my eyes upon lowering them. For a few seconds I was scratching my head at the fact that I’d fallen asleep in the living room, but I ultimately shrugged it off, standing and quietly padding across the hallway and into the kitchen.

What I needed was caffeine.

And food, if the growling of my stomach was anything to go by.

I rummaged through the fridge, gathering ingredients for pancakes, eggs and bacon. I placed it all on the counter nearby, and I was digging out a mixing bowl when I thought I heard the door to Adam’s bedroom close and footsteps coming towards the kitchen. It hit me then, Adam had come home the night before.

And naturally, around the time he made it into the kitchen, I was remembering the soft press of rough lips against my forehead last night and I could feel my body heating up at the memory. I took a deep breath and tried like hell to get myself together.

Music… Music would take away the silence and drive out any possible tension that might be heavy between the two of us; again, we are practically strangers who just happen to be sharing a house.

But of course, the first song to play when I fired up the SiriusXM app on my cell phone?

An inherently sexual one from the bluegrass and folk station I’d been listening to the night before while grading the last of the actual papers I had to grade and making an online lesson plan for the new week approaching.

I think I played it off pretty well, humming along as I found my electric mixer, plugging it in, focusing intently on mixing the batter for chocolate chip pancakes. I didn’t dare look up though. I could just feel him in the room with me, watching me.

The song ended and the batter started to get smoother and I cut off the mixer, sitting it to the side, taking one of the attachments to lick clean. When I turned around to grab something, I found myself body to body with Adam and I gulped.

All I could do was try -and fail at not staring. He eyed me and chuckled softly. “You’re up early.” I finally managed to mutter. Adam shrugged and I caught him eyeing the other attachment that was still hooked to the mixer, sitting on top of the counter. I gave a soft laugh and turned a little, detaching it and holding it out to him.

He took it and I bit my lip as I watched his tongue trailing slowly over the curved bits of the attachment. After he’d licked it clean, he held it out, this soft sort of little smirk on his face as he did so. “Everythin’ okay, darlin?”

“I.. yeah. Yeah, everything is totally fine.” I tangled my fingers in my hair, dragging them through as I held his gaze. Adam chuckled and spoke up calmly. “Your bacon is burnin, woman.”

“What? No… Well fuck.” I groaned as I shook my head. Adam hurried over to the stove, grabbing the skillet and wrinkling his nose at the smell of burnt bacon while laughing. He made his way to the garbage, hurriedly tossing the burnt bacon down into the trash. All I could really do was stand there and laugh at myself.

And shake my head about it, of course.

I swear, sometimes this man can bring out my true inner awkwardness without so much as anything more than a smile.

My alarm started to go off again and I groaned as soon as I realized that meant it was 8:30 and time for me to get upstairs to my room, to my laptop. Because I had a classroom of students waiting for me on Zoom.

I opened the cabinets, rummaging around for the brightly colored Fiestaware plates I’d picked up a few months ago, taking a turquoise one and an orange one out, sitting them on the counter top. Adam was standing at the stove, apparently, he’d decided he just couldn’t eat breakfast without meat of some kind, so he was making sausage. Despite my trying not to, I found myself just sort of watching him. Thinking about how much more relaxed it was than I’d anticipated the night before when he got in. I’d been fearing there would be this overwhelming awkward tension between us, given how little we actually know about each other.

It was nice to discover that I was potentially wrong about the situation.

Adam happened to look up and over at me, catching me in mid stare. I quickly diverted my eyes, focusing on the growing pile of bacon on a navy blue plate sitting nearby and reaching out to take one. He reached out at the same time and our hands brushed and we both just sort of stared at each other for a second or two before Adam broke it in half, holding out one piece to me, sticking the other piece into his mouth and chewing it up.

“I make you nervous or somethin’, darlin?” Adam finally asked the question after the silence became too much for him.

… oh you have no idea, sir… and i’m watching your rodeos now and… every single time you tug at those jeans before you get onto your bull to ride, it does something to me… the thought came, but I shook my head quickly, taking another bite of the half of bacon he’d given me a second ago. “What makes you think that?”

“I don’t know, you just seem tense or something.” Adam muttered it quietly, glancing down at the countertop as if he were already assuming the worst. He looked up and over at me and I bit my lip, taking a sip of the coffee I’d just poured myself.

… really? I thought I was handling this pretty well, all things considered… I mulled it over as I finished eating the strip of bacon and finally, I sighed. “Probably just stress from everything going on right now. You definitely do not make me nervous. You’re probably about as scary as a box of kittens if I have to be honest, Mr. Page.”

“We’ve been livin here together for a while now. You can call me Adam.” he chuckled quietly, stepping a little closer and shaking his head as he stared down at me.

“Sorry, it’s just force of habit?” I apologized, shrugging as I studied him intently, smiling in the hopes it would reassure him.

I mean… Technically, I’m being honest. It’s not him that makes me nervous and flustered, it’s the way he makes me feel whenever we’re around each other. So technically, I reminded myself a second time, my nervous feelings have nothing at all to do with him.

“It’s okay.” Adam gave this gentle and teasing sort of smirk as he held out another piece of bacon to me. I took it, grateful to have something to shovel into my mouth and take my mind off of exactly what feelings his sudden closeness and presence did stir up in me.

Definitely longing. Attraction. So many emotions I couldn’t quite put my fingers on just yet. I reached for some syrup to put on my pancakes and as I turned to do it, I found myself body to body with Adam in the middle of the kitchen. I gulped when I felt one of his hands brush against my hip and he bit his lip, nodding to the counter. “Somethin you need?”

“The maple syrup.” I managed to get it out, even as I felt his hand brush right against my skin again. If I were a lot bolder, I’d almost assume he was flirting with me. As soon as the thought crossed my mind, I shoved it right back out.

Because there’s no way he’s flirting right now. Nope. Not at all.

His laughter got my attention and as soon as I realized that I’d missed my pancakes and drizzled maple syrup haphazardly over my plate instead, I felt my cheeks heating. Cutting into the stack and dipping them in the syrup, I met his gaze boldly. “Bold of you to assume I didn’t do that on purpose, Mr… I mean Adam.” I corrected myself quickly, remembering that me calling him Mr. Page apparently didn’t sit well with him.

He shrugged and took a bite of his own stack of pancakes and then a sip of orange juice, groaning as soon as he’d swallowed the juice down. “Is this real oranges?”

“Mhm. That’s how my grams always did it. Hand squeezed. Tastes better than a crapload of sugar, I think.”

“It really does.” Adam muttered through a mouthful.

“Shit. I need to finish this and get upstairs. I may be home but I’m still workin..” I muttered, mostly to myself. Adam nodded and took a few bites of his food, asking the question, “Think you might wanna help me out later? Gonna go check the cows.”

“Of course! Hey… if things get weird like I figure they will, dumbasses panic buying all the things.. Couldn’t hurt to think about a garden or something.” I threw out the suggestion, half expecting him to think I was crazy or in panic mode.

Panic mode he wouldn’t be entirely wrong about because I have been freaking out a little.. No, I’ve been freaking out a lot since this virus hit. Either way, I was more than a little surprised when he reached out, fluffing at my hair and nodding thoughtfully while giving me one of those bright grins of his. “It’s not a bad idea, actually. I can go to town later, pick up some things.”

“You don’t have to..” I trailed off and Adam shrugged, chuckling. “I’m here, might as well do somethin’ useful.”

I gave a nod and raked out my food into the compost bucket, sitting my dish in the sink. Adam did the same and after a few seconds, he spoke up again. “Thanks.”

“For what, exactly?” I raised a brow as I asked the question. All I do here is literally what he asks me to do and tries to pay me for. I dragged my fingers through my hair, taking another sip of coffee while I waited on him to answer my question.

“Not bailin out and going back to the city when all this shit broke.” Adam smiled at me and I nodded, shrugging. Honestly, I moved out here to escape the city. To clear my head.

To live that simpler life I enjoyed as a kid at my grandparents house over summer break.

And maybe, my mind saw fit to remind me, you sticking around has everything to do with a certain bull rider, hmm? - but of course, since I’m not willing to admit that and risk making things extremely awkward, I shoved that thought right out of my head.

“Like I said. It’s not a big deal. I wanted to get outta the city, there’s really nothing there for me.” - it wasn’t a lie either, all I left behind was a tiny and crappy apartment, a string of failed and bad relationships and teaching a group of kids who were so used to hearing they’d never amount to shit that they were preconditioned to not even attempting to learn and try to get themselves out of their situations. It was disheartening on a good day, downright depressing on a bad one. I sighed and gave him a smile.

“Hey.. If you really want to go into town and look into getting seeds and stuff, wait until I’m done with this Zoom class? I’d like to go too.”

Adam smiled, nodding. “Aren’t you late for your own class,ma’am?” he teased as he held my gaze and leaned in a little closer. When he trailed his thumb over the corner of my mouth I gave a soft giggle and he explained quietly, “You, umm.. Syrup.” and I thanked him for getting it, going silent for a second or two.

“Yeah, but I’m pretty sure a good half of them aren’t even up and functional yet. It’ll surprise me if anyone’s even signed into the classroom and waiting.” I gave a soft laugh and grabbed the rest of my coffee and Adam leaned out of the kitchen to holler down the hall after me jokingly, “Hey, teach! You might consider puttin on pants before you start your lesson, right?”

I looked down and palmed my face, biting my lip. “Fuck.”

Maybe he was right. Maybe I was really tense around him. I stopped at the top of the stairs, leaning against the hallway wall to really think about it. Now that we’re all sheltering in place I’m going to have to find some way to work around all the feelings this man stirs up in me. Otherwise, I’m going to lose my damn mind.

“Okay, tomorrow we’re going to start on time.” I was smiling as I signed off of Zoom, giving one last wave goodbye to the students who’d actually signed on to be in class. We’d mostly talked about how hard things were around our little rural area because of the shelter in place. Then we’d gone over a history lesson and done a little english.

I stood and stretched, turning to peek through the curtains out of my bedroom window. And I bit my lip as soon as I realized that the noise I’d been hearing earlier was apparently Adam, who’d gotten bored from the looks of it, and was going over a section of land with the tractor, breaking up dirt.

I gave a soft laugh, pressing my hand against the window and shaking my head. “I meant a little garden, sir.” I mumbled quietly as I made myself step away from the window and focused on throwing on some of my older jeans and one of my favorite old plaid shirts. I was tugging on my boots at the front door of the house when Adam walked in, sweaty and grimy. I wrinkled my nose at him and he chuckled. “First a beer, then shower. I know, darlin. Looks bad.”

“You’re a little burnt on your shoulders actually. How long have you been out there?”

“Long enough to get everything disked up and ready. Now all we gotta do is go into town and buy seeds and stuff.”

“Yeah, about that.. To clarify, I said garden.”

“And? That’s what I did, woman.”

“That’s a field, sir.” I gestured to the window, to the plot of land he’d just spent an entire half day plowing and preparing to plant. It was… definitely much bigger than your typical ‘garden’ plot. Not bigger than my grandparents, but they were also farmers too, and they liked to take produce down to market and sell it 2 to 3 times a year.

Adam was just a semi pro bull rider who rodeoed most of the year and raised cattle and horses or broke horses the rest.

“Not out here, it ain’t. I got the land, might as well put it to use, right?” Adam dragged his fingers through his hair, giving that lazy grin that was notorious for making my stomach flutter ever-so-slightly. “Sides.. Maybe if I can get it growin now and this thing lasts as long as people are talkin about, I can give the stuff we don’t use to some of the neighbors down the road or somethin.”

“Yeah, true.” I agreed and bit my lip, shaking myself out of deep thought when I remembered that he’d mentioned something to drink. I started to walk towards the kitchen where he’d vanished to but almost as soon as I hit the doorway, he was leaning in it lazily, staring down at me.

And me, being lost in the blue of his eyes, well.. I couldn’t do anything but stare right back. I cleared my throat and muttered quietly, “I was gonna grab a glass of tea.”

Adam stepped aside, but not quickly enough because we wound up brushing against each other in the doorframe. And again, I felt his hand lingering at my side subtly.

“I still say I make ya nervous, darlin.” Adam spoke up from where he stood as I poured my glass of tea after reaching the fridge. I gave a soft laugh, shrugging it off and I looked up, meeting his gaze. “I still argue you’re wrong, Adam.”

Adam coughed, but I heard him clearly say Bullshit as he did so. I gave a shrug and a teasing look as I took another sip of my tea. “Whether you believe me or not, Adam, that’s on you.”

He chuckled and took a few more quick sips of his long neck bottle before clearing his throat. “Should probably get showered so we can get goin. Curfew and all.”

“Yeah, this is true.” I answered, sitting down the glass I’d been drinking from and looking up at him.

“Days just seem to bleed into each other right now, ya know?” Adam mused and I nodded in agreement. They certainly did. Each one passing slower than the last. He’d only been here a day and a half. I’d been dealing with this part of it for almost four. I had the strong feeling that by the third day, the poor guy was going to be going stir-crazy.

And hopefully, just because we were now having to do the actual cohabitating part of our arrangement, with him here now, things would be just a little easier than I’d originally seen this whole thing going, when I thought Adam wouldn’t be coming back home until his usual and expected end of rodeo season.

Then again, I found myself thinking, literally no one ever saw any of this coming. And maybe I should just make the best of the situation, stop making it awkward, stop being so tense around Adam. This arrangement we had going did not have to be awkward at all.. Putting my own…. Attraction to the man aside, we could definitely be friends, there was no harm in that. I got it set firmly in my mind that rather than continuing to dwell on just how attracted to Adam I was, I was simply going to try for co-existing and hopefully, if I was lucky, making friends with him.

Given my luck in more recent years, -all of it bad, that was probably the far better thing to do.

Even as I made the decision, I got the distinct feeling that just trying to be friends was… Going to be a little more challenging than I thought.

Still, I thought to myself as I put the empty glass into the sink to wash later, I could at least try. That would definitely make this whole shelter in place scenario so much easier for both of us.

Adam was showering so I sat down at the dining table after going through the pantry and the fridge and the cabinets to see what we’d need to get us through for a few weeks. I’d just finished making my list when I heard him chuckle from behind me.

“Oh how cute, she’s makin a list.” Adam teased and I glanced up at him, poking out my tongue. “So I can get in, get what I know is needed and get out.”

“Where’s the fun in that though, hm?” Adam questioned, blue eyes fixed on me and gazing deep into my own. Almost as if he were definitely trying to distract me, which of course, it did work. I grumbled and tore the sheet of paper free from the magnetized notepad I usually kept on the door of the fridge and held it out. “Either way, fun or not, it is all stuff we’re going to need. So, if you don’t mind, hang onto that?” I asked, pretending to pout when he took the list and eyed it as if he were going to crumple it only to slip it in the pocket of faded blue jeans.

“I make no promises,darlin. If I see junk food, I’m buyin junk food.” Adam waved his hands and I couldn’t help but smile at it because it was just… Cute? Okay, that sounds so frickin cheesy… But it’s true? He looked cute. As if he were a kid, trying to tell his mother he hadn’t done something that his mother probably knew full well he had.

I eyed him and shook my head, laughing. “Okay, alright. It’d be nice to have a pint of ice cream later.” I grabbed my keys from the key rack on the iron ‘home’ key rack hanging beside the door and I turned to him, tossing them. “You’ve been staring at my car since I moved in. I know you want to drive it.”

He pretended to scoff for a second or two, but he quickly grabbed the keys from my hand, giving me that boyish smirk and sending my heart race again. “It’s just because I want to find out if Dodge really is a good company.. Ya know, being a Ford or Chevrolet guy myself for so long.”

“You do realize that Ford stands for Found On Road Dead, right?”

“Hey, hey.. No need in bein mean, darlin. Besides, your little sports car is probably just fast and not built to last.” Adam was stepping closer, staring down at me, biting his lip. If I were a lot more self assured, I’d almost want to say he was staring at my lips like… No, he didn’t want to kiss me.

He probably sees women who are so much prettier on the daily when he’s out being a rodeo star. He probably takes them back to his hotel, I found myself thinking next, having to clear my throat abruptly just to clear my mind and get the focus back on our outing. Adam’s hand lightly squeezed my side and he chuckled to himself, shaking his head.

“What?”

“It’s nothin. C’mon, let’s go get this done.” Adam was reaching out over my shoulder to push the front door open and when he brushed against me as he leaned in a little to do so, I looked up at him. “I warn you, it’s an absolute madhouse in town. And if you think we’re getting toilet paper or anything? Likely not.”

“Why toilet paper?” Adam questioned, a brow raised as he shook his head and muttered about some people and their overwhelming lack of common sense. I sighed and shrugged, making my way to my Challenger, standing by the passenger door as I tapped my foot and waited on him. When he finally got to the car, he eyed me. “You’re not in?”

“You have the key. City girl here, remember? I never just leave my car or the house unlocked… Speaking of… You did lock up the place… Right?”

“Darlin, we are in the middle of nowhere.” Adam pointed out, gazing at me before turning to look back at the front door to the house after he’d aimed my key fob at the car to unlock it. “Sides.. I can’t exactly lock up the barn and stables, all the valuable stuff is in there.”

“Doesn’t matter, Adam. The door needs to be locked. You never know what could happen.” I pointed it out mildly, going on to tell him that 3 times in a month my old apartment had actually been broken into before I left the city to move out here. He eyed me in concern and I quickly reassured with a shrug, “I wasn’t home for any of them, thankfully. Does piss me off knowing that given all the bigger scale crime though, actually doing something about it would’ve done nothing in the end.”

“You didn’t report it?” Adam gaped at me, shocked when I admitted that I hadn’t tried to actually get anything done about it. I almost wanted to cringe, thinking back about it because it was one of those things, ya know? Where you suck at defending yourself for the most part and getting fucked over becomes the norm. You just kind of let it ride, go with it and hope for the best down the road. If you’re wondering, yes. I did this a lot. And yeah, on occasion I do still do it. It’s just.. Easier… Not to be a troublemaker or make waves.

I opened my mouth and closed it again, giving a defeated sigh. Nothing I could say to explain it would make this any more logical, I could just see it in his eyes. He was genuinely confused as to why I didn’t try to report it.

“It’s not really friendly there like it is around here, okay? Besides, the cops have a lot more important things to worry about, like the actual murders and robberies that happen all the time.” I explained it away, but I felt it boiling at my gut all over again, the anger I’d felt all three occasions to coming back, discovering that a few possessions and some money were gone. The pathetic excuse and my lack of action was also still eating at me and this had taken place a year ago.

Adam cleared his throat and dug around, finding his house key as he muttered, “I’ll go lock the door. Can’t hurt.” and I gave him a relieved look, getting into the passenger side of the car. He hurried back down the brick front steps and got into the driver seat, taking off down the long dirt driveway. As we drove into town, I squirmed in my seat a little.

One, I’m not used to being a passenger in my car. Like at all. Two, I was starting to feel that thick tension creeping back in. The air seemed like it hung heavy with words not said. It was starting to get to me, so I guess that’s why I reached out, turning down the volume on the radio. Adam seemed to be off in his own mind too, because when I finally thought of something to say, “Looks like it’s gonna rain soon.” he muttered a quiet and thoughtful, “Probably so.” and swore under his breath because he’d just spent over half the day plowing up the ground and the rain might mess all that up now. I couldn’t help but give a quiet laugh.

“Just curious, darlin… Ain’t you got… Like… family or a man back in the city?” the question came totally out of the blue and when I glanced over, he was doing it again, giving me that look all over again.

“I don’t, actually. My parents and I aren’t exactly on speaking terms. As far as a relationship, haven’t really… Been in one of those for almost two years now. I..” I paused, biting my lip and taking a deep breath, “got burned really bad in the last one.”

Adam nodded, muttered quietly, “Me too.. On the relationship thing, I mean. Parents are livin in some retirement community out in Colorado. My dad’s idea.” Adam shrugged and reached out, turning the volume up just a little, leaving me to kind of sit there and puzzle out what he’d just admitted.

Okay, in what world is a hunky semi-pro bull rider not involved with at least one person? And he certainly seemed like a nice enough guy from the little we’d interacted since I moved into his house… It definitely made me wonder and it only further drove home the fact that maybe getting to know the man I’m cohabitating with isn’t a bad idea at all.

I mean… we should know a lot more about each other than we already do.

The local supermarket came into view and Adam pulled my car into one of the closer spots to the door, sitting there for a few seconds as if he wanted to say something else. When he finally did break the silence, it was to gently repeat something he’d said earlier in the morning.

“Ya know.. We’re stuck together in this. Wouldn’t hurt to get more comfortable around each other, I’d think.”

“No, it definitely wouldn’t.”

He smiled at me and then raised slightly in his seat, digging out my list, holding it out to me. “Your list, darlin.”

“Tease all you want, but when you’re back at the house and we actually have everything we need to last a while, you’ll see the reasoning there.” I laughed softly, taking the slip of paper from his hand. For a second or two, our fingertips brushed and I bit my lip. He did the same before answering with a shrug, “Won’t matter if I wanted a candy bar or somethin and we don’t have that.”

“You’ll get your junk, sir. Are we going in or are we just gonna sit out here and talk about it all night, cowboy?” I teased, almost wanting to cringe at the flirtatious tone in my voice while also praying to hell that Adam didn’t actually… Read that much into things, because it hadn’t really been intentional. My breath caught in my throat when he eyed me a second or two, this soft and laughing smirk on his face as he got out. I got out too, shutting the door behind me and Adam locked the car, extending his arm. I grabbed a cart and bit my lip when I felt his chest ever so slightly brushing into my back.

He chuckled softly next to my ear. “I still say I make you nervous.” he dared to say it and I bit down on my lip harder, taking a deep breath, turning slightly to look over my shoulder at him, my head shaking and a teasing grin on my face.

I mean… If he’s gonna tease me, why not, right?

“I do believe someone is ignoring social distancing protocols, sir.” I stepped from beneath the way he had his arms on either side of me, his hands on the cart handle and slunk over to the potatoes, grabbing a 5 lb. bag and returning with it, putting it into the cart, flashing him yet another little smile and laughing.

Adam chuckled, grabbing for a bag of apples near the fruits and vegetables, putting them into the cart. “Cute diversion. But I’m still goin by what I said earlier at the house. For some reason, I make you real nervous.”

“Nope.” I’d turned away, busying myself with buying ketchup, mustard and mayonnaise and when I turned back with the three bottles, I found myself body to bod with him again and he was staring down at me thoughtfully, reaching for two of the three bottles in my hand to sit them into the cart. He didn’t break his gaze a single time and I found my breath catching.

Something my grandma said to me once about her and Grandpa came rushing back to me and I mulled it over before quickly shoving it right out of my head.

I barely know Adam. This is just me, being awkward as fuck because I have always been awkward as fuck around men I’m attracted to. It has to be… Right?

But gazing up at him as he gazed right back, I suddenly wasn’t as confident in that as I’ve been up to this point. I mean… I keep feeling like he’s flirting with me. Like he feels truly comfortable around me and this is the real Adam… Not the Adam I’m used to seeing after a winning round at whatever rodeo he happens to be riding in on television when I watch. He’s not cocky, not intense.. He’s just.. A genuinely sweet and good guy. Funny, down to earth and charming.

I tried to get a grip of myself as he started to laugh quietly and reached out, taking the paper from my hand. “Maybe if each of us takes half…” he suggested and I swallowed hard, shaking my head, giving him a smile. “No, no. No. Today’s just been… Weird. I’m used to being alone when I do this. But this is fine, I’m having a good time. And for the last time, no… you do not make me nervous. Not even a little.” I said it in a rush and he chuckled, shrugging as he grabbed a jar of pickles and put them into the cart.

“Whatever you say, darlin. What’s next then?”

“Uh… You’re gonna love this. The mandatory junk food and quick meals.” I joked gently, making him laugh as he pointed out, “You do realize I can cook, right?”

“Yeah, but you’re in and out of hotels at least 100 plus days a year, so…”

“And yet, you nearly burnt down the kitchen just this morning.”

“Bite me.”

“Where, darlin?” Adam joked, again with that grin that I couldn’t tell whether he was being a tease or whether he was… Really flirting with me… Like he was into me.

Then again, I’ve never been good at deciphering cues or hints, to begin with. So, I don’t dare get my hopes up that high.

#adam hangman page fanfiction #adam hangman page fanfic #adam hangman page fic #adam hangman page imagine #// alcohol tw potentially #// bit of a slow burn #// mentions of covid-19 and sheltering in place

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emu-lumberjack · 4 years

Text

A Text, A Mess, and Some Cookies

Newt wasn’t expecting to hear From April today, or really ever. so when he gets a text from her obviously he’ll help. plus he’ll do a little extra.

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Ok so this has been bugging me for about a week, and I decided to finally write it out, it’s just OC work so not any fandom stuff. I feel like this comes in the middle of the characters development so yeah. I want to post it because why not, also just as backround April only likes being called Ril by close friends or family. which is also explained in my head earlier in the story. oh yeah did I mention that this is like the middle of it in my head. anyway here y’all are.

I wasn’t expecting to get the text from April, but sure enough there was her contact picture. It was one she had taken herself when they first met, she had one eye closed was holding up a peace sign and her tongue was sticking out. I loved it, it was so her and not that facade she puts up around other people where she was perfectly polite and kind.

Hey, you wouldn’t by chance be at your house? And have Advil present would you?

Strange request but you’re in luck I’m both home and have advil present

Thank you! Would you mind bringing it over? You can come through the deck and my room, I’m kinda currently couch ridden.

I’ll be over in 2

I went to the kitchen and grabbed the Advil, at this point, I trusted her enough that she legitimately needed it and she wasn’t just trying to annoy the crap out of me.

Once I got through the door I noticed her room was really messy When was the last time she cleaned? I thought to myself, walking through the hallway to the living room wasn’t much better. There were laundry baskets all around with stacks of books and papers thrown in periodically. Walking into the living room I noticed the smell coming from the garbage, not pleasant. The kitchen was right next door and even from a brief glance, I could tell the dishes were piled up high.

“Hey” a smaller voice than I was used to came from the couch. I walked around to see April with a heating pad pressed to her stomach and a blanket covering her legs, it was then that I realized how cold it was in here.

“Sorry for the mess, I haven’t exactly been feeling great the last few days.”

I handed her the Advil and said, “this isn’t exactly a few days worth of mess.”

“Yeah I know, it’s been a harder few weeks, it’s just most people buy the few days act.”

“Too bad for you I’m not most people, do you want water for the Advil?”

“That would actually be awesome.” I walked into the kitchen and my initial feeling about the it was correct, it was a total mess. How she lived like this I had no idea. Fast as I could I grabbed the last clean glass from the cabinet and got some water into it. Walking back I noticed the stains on the counter.

“Here you go April.”

“Have I mentioned your a lifesaver?” she cracked a small smile and downed the Advil.

“So you want to tell me what’s up with the getup?” I motioned to the sweats plus heating pad plus blanket combo.

“Well uh… let’s just say having two X-chromosomes sucks ass, and this time is particularly bad. I forgot to start taking Advil when I initially felt the symptoms and by the time I really needed it, I couldn’t find any. I was actually looking for a solid half hour before I texted you. Thanks again by the way, sorry I had to text you in the first place.” She looked up at me, and I swear I had never seen her that tired.

“Hey it’s completely fine I had nothing to do today anyway, you know me the most exciting thing I was planning today was sorting out my colored pens for the fourteenth time today.” we both chuckled at that.

“Well if you don’t have anything to do want to come to watch the new episode of Doctor Who with me? I recorded it last night I hear that the new fan theory is the Master coming back.”

“Scooch over you’ve got me invested now.” She sat up and motioned for me to sit where her head had been lying seconds before.

“I bet you a batch of cookies the Master doesn’t actually show up.”

“Oh, I’ll take that bet. Chocolate chip is my favorite by the way.” She was looking better but she still looked absolutely exhausted. Over the episode, I guess we must have drifted closer because at about 20 minutes in I felt a small weight on my shoulder. When I looked over I saw April sleeping softly with her head resting right where the small weight was I think that was the first time I’d ever seen her truely asleep. I moved a strand of blonde hair out of her face, she looked so much younger sleeping. I never really noticed before how much stress she carried with her until it was gone. That’s when I got the idea to help ease her stress, if just for a little.

Careful not to wake her up I gently laid her back down on the couch, before I did anything I turned off the heating pad and moved it to the table. I started by taking out the trash, then I worked through the kitchen doing the dishes and cleaning the stained countertop. I quickly realized I’d probably have to bring cleaning supplies from my house but that wouldn’t be too much of an issue. I listened to the episode as I worked, and it was on one of my supply runs that I added to my mental checklist to see what she had here for baking and what I needed to bring over. Quickly the kitchen looked less and less like a tornado had just ripped through it, and more like someone just needed to vacuum, which I would do once, she got up. Once most of the kitchen was done I started on the cookies. She had most of the stuff for the recipe so I only had to bring over chocolate chips and brown sugar. While they were in the oven I started tackling the hallway.

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Why does it smell like heaven was my first thought upon waking up, then I remembered. Newt, Advil, Doctor Who. Wait did I fall asleep? Shit! I hated falling asleep in front of people, but I guess the 4 closing shifts combined with the 2 doubles I’d done finally caught up with me. I went to stand up thankful to notice the cramp was finally done, those are probably in my top ten painful experiences and this was definitely one of the worst ones.

I followed my nose to the kitchen where I saw Newt of all people scrubbing at a mixing bowl, chocolate chip cookies stood on a cooling rack a pleasant vanilla scent rang through the kitchen. In my groginess it took me a moment but I finally noticed that the counter was, clean? When did that happen? I must have made a noise because Newt turned around from his cleaning.

“Look whose finally awake, have a nice nap?” He tried to put in our usual sarcasm but I could tell it was really just a joke rather than our normal banter.

“Uh.. yeah. I actually really needed that. One question though, when did this,” I motioned to the clean kitchen, “happen. Because the last thing I remember the Doctor Who theme was playing and it smelled like someone just died in here.”

“Yeah, so you fell asleep about a third of the way through the episode. I personally wanted to keep watching but the smell was just so bad so I took out the trash, then I realized if you were right I was gonna need space to bake cookies, so I started doing the dishes.” It sounded true enough, but I still smelled something funny, something he wasn’t telling me about. “Then well I couldn’t really walk through the hallway when I came in so I just tidied that up a little, and I needed a place to sit on the couch, so I also put that stuff up and cleaned that a little. I didn’t want to wake you up so I left the vacuuming up to you.”

“And the cookies?” “Oh you were right, it was such a twist ending.” there was a twinkle in his eyes and he smiled at me. I gave him one right back.

“See I told you, anyway I’m sad I missed it.”

“Ya know I was busy doing this I was only able to listen to the episode, I didn’t get to watch. How bout we rewind it and watch it together? This time both of us staying awake.”

“Sounds like a plan. How bout you go get it set up, and bring the cookies out and I’ll finish cleaning up. You’ve already done so much.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah tho I think you should take the cookies out of the oven, I have a bad habit of over baking them.”

“That I remember.” we both gave a shudder of the burned cookie fiasco of October. He produced a cookie platter where he got it I have no idea and started putting cookies on it, I finished up with the mixing bowl and cleaned the electric mixer, there really wasn’t a lot to do after all Newt had done a lot.”

“Hey Ril which remote is it?” He called from the living room

“The silver one.” I hollered back. A second later I realized what he called me, and I think he did too because I swear there was complete silence even from the birds outside.

“Uh… Sorry I didn’t realize if----” he began from the other room.

“It’s fine don’t worry bout it Newt.” A breath and we were all back to normal or at least our version of normal.

Newt came back in a few minutes later, the timer on his phone must’ve gone off because he was getting the cookies out of the oven. I’m not too proud to admit that when he did I followed the cookies with my nose, they smelled amazing.

“Careful, these are still really hot.” So he did see me eyeing the cookies.

“There are cooler ones out on the living room table.”

“Yeah, but they aren’t as gooey.” I tried to sneak my arm past him to grab one, but hegrabbed my wrist and directed me away from the too hot tray.

“You’re no fun.”

“And you’re gonna get burned. At least let me move them to the cooling tray first.”

“Fine.” I sighed heavily. Once he did I grabbed the cookie sheet and dumped it in the sink to clean it, when that was done I looked over to see the still cooling cookies. Newt had his back turned, so I obviously did the only reasonable thing. I grabbed a cookie and started eating it. “Mhmmm. That is the best cookie I’ve ever had.”

“High praise coming from the picky eater herself.” back to our usual sarcasm, I could work with this.

“Well you see, there are slight imbalances with the salt to sugar ratio. I feel as though it’s a little too sweet.”

“Oh, you’re so full of shit.” We looked at each other and broke out laughing.

“Come on let’s go finish the show. I’ve got to know how right I was about the Master.”

“Oh like only nine percent.”

“Nine?” I raised an eyebrow.

“Ty.”

“That sounds more like it.” he gave a laugh, one I don’t usually hear on it’s own. It was quick but real, one that’s hard to place but will infect anyone around them with happiness. I like seeing that laugh.

#my writing #oc writing #original content #original character #Emu writes #here y'all are #I know I should be updating my fics #but I haven't been able to get this out of my head #for a WEEK #also this is definitely #not me procrastinating my final #which is a big ass project #also in my head #this is the middle of the story #so I might update it #and put stuff before it #or after it #but I just needed to write this out

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whatmack · 6 years

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neil drunk rambling about maths in his british accent :(

this is so adorable and exactly how i am at parties sans the british accent but NEIL WOULD DEFINITELY (I made this slightly kandreil at the end WHOOP)(Now has a Part 2)

Renee’s tiny speakers couldn’t keep up with the bass line ofthe song Allison’s iPod was playing through them, but as Allison’s speakerswere—according to her long and hand-waving rant—broken, they were all they had.Aaron had better speakers back in his dorm room, but he didn’t look inclined toget them. It was enough of a miracle that he was here, Neil figured.

They’d won the game. The freshmen were finally starting topull together, and Andrew had shut down the goal in the second half. Neil wasn’tsure what had made Andrew decide to care tonight, but he was flying high on beingon the Court with him as the last, electric seconds of the game had counteddown and it was clear it would be a Fox victory. He was feeling so good thatwhen the arrived in the girls’ suite, toting bottles of liquor and a carton ofthe cheap local beer, Neil glanced towards the cups.He trusted these people. They were his family. But Andrew wasn’t here yet—he’dstayed behind to have a twisted ankle checked over by Abby. What if Neil said somethinghe shouldn’t?Kevin caught the direction of Neil’s gaze. He put down the UV Blue he wascarrying on Dan’s desk. “I can keep an eye on you if you want to drink.”

Like I offered before at Abby’s, was the unspoken reminder in the steadiness ofhis empty hands. Neil catalogued Kevin’s stubborn chin, his offering posture.“Okay,” he said.There was the expected ruckus when Neil gathered himself a knockoff-brand Solocup from beside the array of mixers. Neil bore it with impatient grace and refusedthe invitation to join the convoluted drinking game (there were Uno cards and acheckers board?) the upperclassmen had set up, but he did let Dan mix his drinkfor him.“Technically a dark ‘n stormy should have ginger beer, but ginger ale will have to do,” she said, ruffling Neil’shair. “I can’t wait to see what kind of drunk you are, Vice-Cap.”The tiny kernel of warmth that burned in Neil’s stomach whenever Dan orWymack called him that made him hide his face in the cup. Dan laughed and ruffledhis hair again—she was already past tipsy—and got dragged away by Matt to doshots.Drinking socially was odd. Neil tried to keep tabs on his state of intoxication.He did well until Kevin started talking about the game, and then Neil got soabsorbed he only noticed he’d finished his drink when Dan passed him a new one.He frowned into the cup, considering, and took a sip.“’Atta boy,” Dan cheered, thumping him on the back.Kevin tilted his head. “Neil?”Neil took another sip. “This is fun. I’m having fun.”He was surprised to realize it was true.Sometime later (things were starting to merge into a time-slip puddle), Neilfound himself in a corner with Aaron, who had been keeping to the outskirts.Aaron had partaken in several rounds of Matt’s shots.“No, no no, here’s what I don’t understand,” Aaron said, jabbing his pointerfinger, middle finger, and thumb out in right-angles in an approximation ofthree-space. The thumb axis was crooked. Or maybe that was Neil’s eyes. He kepthaving to blink the fuzzy edges off of everybody. “So you’ve got a vector. That’stwo—that’s two dimensions. But then. In three dimensions, see? It only has two dimensionsstill?” He stuck a finger of his other hand into his graph-paper palm.Neil shook his head. It was a bigger motion than he anticipated, but that wasokay: he was drinking. “No, you’re getting confused. It’s two dimensions becauseyou make your own axis.” He nudged Aaron’s hand over—Aaron looked affronteduntil Neil huffed at him, and then he looked abashed—until his middle-fingeraxis lay alongside his vector-finger. “It’s on a plane still. Two-dee. And thedimensions of a vector are different. Length and direction, not axis. Axes?”Aaron frowned. “But when you integrate it.”

“You’re still thinking about direction as the y-axis,” Neilsaid, holding up his own hands now, one pointing horizontal and one towards theceiling. “Look, look. A vector goes points forever. Wait. No. A vector goespoints a direction, for only some length. An axis goes points forever. But whenyou integrate a line, it’s different. You—” he paused and turned around. Allison was behind him, hiding her phone hurriedly behind her back. She wasgrinning.“No, don’t film me,” Neil whined. “I don’t like it.”“Okay, kid,” Allison said. Her smile turned softer. “You sound like a fancy Oxford professor right now, is all. Tell us some more about how you integrate.”“Integrate,” said Neil. He nodded. Nodding was a good gesture. Simple andto the point. He folded over his y-axis arm—his demonstrating hands hadextended their purpose down to the elbows—so his forearms lay crossed over eachother in front of his chest. “It’s just the opposite of derivativative, no,derivatary, no, derivative, you know? I thought everyone knew but it’simportant to know.” He lifted his top arm so there was space between them. “Integrate.”He pressed his arms together again. “Derive.” Lifted the top one again. “Integrate.Derive. You get it?”Aaron was following along with furious concentration. His glare looked so muchlike Andrew’s that Neil giggled.“We get it,” said Dan. When had she come over? Oh, everyone had come over. Neilwaved. Matt waved back, enthusiastic. Neil cleared his throat and went back tohis important explanation.“So if you want three dimensions to integrate, you have to integrate again,” hesaid. He swung his arm out by the elbow and smacked Kevin in the stomach. “Oh.Not that.”Kevin placed a cup neatly between Neil’s fingers. “Water,” he said. “Drink.”Neil wrinkled his nose and craned his head up, and up, and up. “You’re too tall. Get shorter.”The barest hint of an amused breath raised the hair on the back of Neil’s neck.He spun around, sloshing water, and beamed. “Andrew! You’re okay!”Andrew’s eyebrow twitched. “You’re drunk.”“Yes,” said Neil, because he was. “Kevin’s taking care of me. He gave me water—oh.”The cup was empty. Neil hadn’t even got to drink any of it.Andrew’s eyes flickered to the cup. He hooked two fingers in the collar of Neil’sshirt and tugged. Neil was not too intoxicated to read Andrew’s questions.He considered, because Andrew’s questions were important. It took a while. Thinkingwhile Andrew’s hands were on him was always difficult, and the alcohol was jumblinghis thoughts up worse, until everything tangled up and out of order. Like aball of yarn. Someone had said that once to him. Who was it? He wasn’t him,then. He liked being him, now, so it didn’t matter.Tug. Neil jolted into focus on Andrew’s face. “I’m having fun. But I think Iwant to be soberer?”“We’ve got you,” Kevin said, up above Neil’s ear. He helped Andrew guide Neilto the bathroom, and closed the door behind them. The fluorescent lights werevery bright. Neil squinted. His ears felt like they were reverberating againsthis skull; the muffling effect of the closed door was a balm. Andrew scooped Neil up and placed him on the counter while Kevin filled Neil’scup from the faucet. Water droplets sprayed out to hit Neil’s pants. He wiggled his ass to get away from them and would have toppled over if Andrew hadn’tgrabbed his knee to steady him.

“Here,” said Kevin, passing Neil the full cup. Neil drankobediently, and found himself gulping. Water was great. Oh wow. When he was finished he examined Kevin and Andrewover the rim of the cup. They had their arms crossed, watching him, the exactsame way. Neil giggled.“More?” Kevin asked. Neil held out the cup and Kevin refilled it. Andrewplucked it away to hand it to Neil, leaning over Neil’s legs as he did. Thewarmth of him was good. Neil pursed his lips when Andrew pulled back.“Drink,” said Andrew, unimpressed. Neil pouted deeper and drank. Oh wow, water.“You haven’t had anything all night?” Andrew was saying to Kevin.Kevin lifted a shoulder in half a shrug and gestured to Neil. “More importantthings to do.”“Hm,” said Andrew. His fingers tapped against his bicep: tap, tap tap. Neilliked Andrew’s fingers. And his biceps. And his whole everything. “Neil?”“Yes!” said Neil, straightening his spine. He was Neil.“Later, when you’re sober, do you want Kevin to kiss you?”Kevin choked and bent forward, clutching the front of his shirt. Weird. Neil bitthe edge of the cup and thought about it. Andrew’s eyes were clear. It wasn’t ajoke, so Neil could answer in real words.“I don’t know,” Neil said. “I didn’t know I wanted to kiss you until you didit. And then I did. We could try?”“Yes or no, Neil.”“Oh. Sorry. Yes.”Andrew hummed deep in his throat. It was nice, when Neil could do something thatAndrew approved of. He stretched his feet out in front of him and drank more water. Kevin was stillwheezing.“Kevin,” said Andrew. “Yes or no?”“Jesus Christ,” said Kevin. “What the fuck.”“Kevin.” Andrew’s tone was patient, but only barely.“Yeah, I guess,” said Kevin, glancing at Neil. Neil tried to smile at him. Thecup was in the way; water dribbled down his chin. The corner of Kevin’s mouthturned up. “Yes. But I mean. Not entirely my decision, isn’t that how it goes?”Andrew’s eyebrows shot down into a scowl, and then he was kissing Kevin on themouth. His fingers were very pale against Kevin’s dark hair. Kevin’s handsjerked up, hovering on either side of Andrew’s torso but not touching. Watchingthem was fascinating. Neil had never paid this much attention to other peoplekissing. “What,” said Kevin in a ragged voice when Andrew released him.Andrew was breathing heavily.Neil brightened. “Does this mean we can go to night practice now?”“Junkie,” said Andrew automatically. He snorted. Rolled his shoulders back.Neil stared, and got caught for a moment in Kevin’s eyes doing the same thing. “WhenNeil can stand you both can come to the roof. If you want.”He touched the ceramic lip of the sink nextto Neil’s thigh and was gone. Neil leaned away from the blast of noise as thebathroom door opened.“Water,” said Kevin, snapping into action. He reached for Neil’s cup. He reallyhad such nice hands. Even the leftone; especially the left one. That was the hand he had refused to let breakhim. Neil accepted the full cup and drank.“You. We. Roof? When you,” said Kevin, watching Neil swallow. The tip ofhis tongue darted out and got trapped between his teeth. Neil watched that.

“Mm-hm,” said Neil. Parties were loud. The roof would benice. And. He held out his empty cup. “More water?”

#all for the game #the foxhole court #neil josten #kandreil #my fics #this was so fun to write neil's so cute gOSH #Anonymous #and no neil does not realize he's speaking in his british accent #his mum's british he's like 'oh this is regular'

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vampirefreakism · 6 years

Text

The Scientist (Chapter 27)

Summary: In the events following Asgard’s destruction, Loki finds himself on Earth seeking refuge to await the inevitable. Much to his surprise, it comes from a source he would never have expected.

AO3 Link

The Soundtrack So Far

Warnings: domestic fluff, a hint of angst

Word count: 3.4k

A/N: Wooh! Another one is here! First off, Captain Marvel was amazing. I saw it twice and I would absolutely watch it again at a moment's notice. Second, we got more domesticity in this! Yay! I know some of y'all really like that, so here ya go. Enjoy this little burrito. Lastly, it's been about a full year since I started writing this! Wow, how time flies! Around this time last year, after the final Infinity War trailer was posted, I put my first thoughts onto a page and began The Scientist. I planned to have more of the story out by this point, but hey, at least she lives :D

Masterlist

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Trudging through the doors of the apartment complex, Luna stamped her boots off and shook the loose snow from her hat.

“Phew! We made it,” she breathily praised, brushing the shopping bags she’d set at her feet.

“Yes, good,” Loki replied. He was glad to be back inside. The new gloves and hat he got helped with blending in, but style-wise, they could be better.

Setting down the cardboard boxes he was tasked with carrying, Loki mimicked Luna in dusting the snow from his clothes. As he did so, he wondered about the contents of the containers he moved. He hadn’t been paying attention when Luna picked them up, being too preoccupied in studying what the shop referred to as ‘mistletoe.’ Alas, it was vastly different than the thing he knew growing up.

He could have taken everything into his arms, but like always, Luna insisted on toting the groceries while he took up the larger items. Something about preventing him from accusing her of using him as her ‘pack mule.’ He knew she would never be so derogatory towards him, but nonetheless, he complied.

Upon entering the apartment, they took turns in putting their parcels down and shrugging off their outer layers. Luna pulled off her boots and rubbed her cold hands together.

“Alright, everything is in. I’ll go get changed and then we can put the groceries away.”

Loki nodded, pulling his own shoes off, and watched Luna shuffle away to slip into something more comfortable. In her temporary absence, he opted to do the same. He had to be quick about it, for there were minor chores to be done and he couldn’t risk being seen unclothed.

Odd, he felt, for him to be concerned about such things. He never had been. Well, of course not. Everything was done for him before any semblance of thought could be spurred about it. Luna did so for him as well, but not out of obligation to him. It was her culture and personality. However, those pieces of the puzzle did not make up the whole picture, and he was intent on completing it. Luckily, he liked getting to know his new friend.

Of course, think of the devil, and she may appear. Back into the living room walked Luna, now clad in blue-and-white patterned leggings, fluffy socks, and the same concert shirt Loki had seen earlier that morning. Not a warm outfit, but comfortable enough for the house.

Without a word, the two got to work; Loki dividing up the items to go in the fridge and Luna putting everything in their appropriate places. They were done in half the time it took for Luna to do it alone. Smirking to herself, she noted another excellent reason to have Loki around as a friend: receiving tidbits of help without having to ask made life feel nice.

Sipping from a glass of fresh water, Luna stepped back out into the living room.

“Ok, so I was thinking we could set these up first,” she pointed to the unopened boxes still sitting by the door, “before I do any cooking. Is that ok?” Loki nodded. “Great.” She smiled, setting her glass down. “I’ll get the box cutter.” And off she was again to her room.

Loki moved one box further into the room for Luna to have more space to open it. Knife securely in hand, she sliced through the tape as if it was hot butter. Inside sat more packaging material surrounding the object of interest. Curious, Loki crouched down to Luna’s level on the floor and inspected her deconstruction of the Styrofoam and plastic.

“What is it, exactly?” He asked as he watched the thing in question slowly reveal itself.

“Oh, it’s a little electric fireplace, just for us,” Luna smiled sweetly.

‘Just for us.’ A nice sentiment. It allowed Loki the temporary belief he could stay with her forever, the two of them enjoying a fake fireplace.

“Very nice,” he said absentmindedly, no longer investing in his wishful thought. As he had said in the past, it was easier to let it burn.

In his mental distance, Luna had pulled everything out of the box and laid it all out in front of her. It was indeed a simple and small electric fireplace, fully capable of warming a room and providing a light show of fake flames.

Luna read over the user manual as Loki settled onto the ground, wrapping his arms around his legs and drawing them into his chest. He observed her as she concentrated, anticipating her next move. It didn’t take her long to figure out what she needed to do.

“There is some assembly required.” Clearly, by the pieces on the ground. Luna picked up the tiny bag filled with black screws. “Do you know where the screwdriver is?”

“Oh, yes,” Loki nodded, rising from the ground and venturing to a drawer in the kitchen. Luna paid him no mind as he rummaged around for a bit and brought back the tool she needed. “Right here.”

She observed his outstretched hand grasping the screwdriver and gently took it from him. “Thank you,” she smiled. She didn’t recall telling him where it was.

Brushing it off for later, she knuckles down and screws on the legs of the machine. She has Loki hold the screws in his hand and give her one each time she needs it.

Loki thumbs the four remaining screws in his palm. “So, why do we need this? This place is warm enough.”

“Yeah, it is. I just figured it would be nice. You know, with Christmas coming up and all.” Luna stops and looks up at Loki. “No, sorry. Not Christmas. Yule.” She takes a screw from Loki’s hand and fits it into its proper spot. “Christmas is pagan in origin.”

“Indeed it is,” Loki grins. “But why do we need this?”

“Oh yeah. Uh, since we would get in all kinds of trouble if we lit a fire any bigger than a tea candle, I thought this would be the next best thing. You know, for symbolism.” She shrugs. “Keeps the occupants warm inside and ward off evil little spirits, even though we are warm enough without it.”

Loki propped an elbow in his knee. “I never would have thought of that. Using this.”

“Well,” Luna smirks, “that’s why you got me: to fill in any gaps you miss.”

“Oh, I thought I had you because Stark was ready and willing to put me in a maximum security prison if you didn’t offer your home,” Loki harmlessly teased, hoping she would get the humor. The light laugh she let out granted him reassurance.

“Ah, yes. Can’t forget that.”

The two sat quietly, the only noise being the metallic tapping of the screws and screwdriver. Once she was done, Luna made sure to check all four legs were tight before standing it upright. She checked and double-checked the instructions, taking a tally of the switches and dials and what their jobs were. Content with her work, she plugged it into the nearest outlet, adjusted the temperature dial, and flicked the switches to the ‘on’ position.

The heater and flames came to life, producing a soft orange glow accompanying the warm, gentle breeze. Luna sat in front of it and admired her new décor piece. Loki stood a ways behind her. He was underwhelmed, but the point of the thing wasn't to impress him. He knew so. He was honored she considered him, so he appreciated the new heater as well.

Having had enough, Luna got to cleaning up the spare cardboard, Styrofoam, and plastic scattered across the floor, tossing it all into the box it came in. She made a note to take care of it on another day. Dusting her hands, she sauntered over the counter and rested her elbow upon it. Loki mindlessly looked over her book collection as he contemplated her next move.

“Have I ever made pancakes with you here?” Luna asks. Loki spares her a glance and returns to his original activity.

“You’ve made cakes before.”

“Yeah, but like, in a pan. Have I done that?”

He lets his gaze take hold of her. “Not that I recall.”

She stands straight and brings her hands together. “Alright, let’s make some pancakes,” she states, making her way into the kitchen. “Nice, warm, fluffy boys.”

Loki followed her, intrigued by what is to come next. He had partaken in the Midgardian pancakes of old from many cultures, but he was eager to try her recipe. He stood by her side, head bent, and surveyed her as she took out the ingredients.

“Ok, to start off, I obviously don’t have a mixer,” Luna gestures to the counter, “so you might have to help me with something if you want it to go faster.”

Loki smirks. “Oh no, whatever shall I do?” He exaggerated, teasing her again. To his mild mockery, he received a soft scowl and placid swat on the arm. He could take it. He was a big boy.

“For now,” Luna took out a set of measuring spoons, “you can stand right here,” she placed her hands on the sides of his shoulders and maneuvered him a tad to her right.

Satisfied, Luna parceled out and mixed the dry ingredients together in a large bowl, all the while Loki peered over her shoulder. She was tempted to commandeer his help, but she remembered she wasn't a user by nature. She could do everything by herself, and everything she couldn't, she could learn. He was still a comfort to have around if only to fill the space for the moment.

Loki studied her movements, memorizing the measurements and the order the ingredients were added. How she turned the flour, sugar, baking powder, and salt into one uniform mix. The way she haphazardly added vanilla extract, but carefully measured and poured in a cup of milk. By her concentration, he assumed she had forgotten he was there. He didn’t mind. He preferred to watch in peace.

He saw her hand slow the stirring and folding of the batter, continuing to do so to a stop. Luna stretched and flexed her aching fingers. The pain wouldn’t ebb as fast as she would like, so she switched hands and kept going. With the mixture smooth to her liking, she set it aside and shook both hands out as she took the few steps to the fridge. From inside, she retrieved the carton of eggs and took two out. She broke them with ease, producing at most two taps from each of them, and emptied the whites out into a separate bowl.

A rotary egg beater in hand, Luna mechanically whipped the egg whites. It was times like these she wished she had the proper appliances, but she recalled how her mother always said that if you can do something without a machine, never bother getting one. It was easy to deal with as she had less expensive things to break or replace, but as she lived away from her mother and by her own rules, it greatly tempted her to buy a few. Not to say the thought hasn’t gone through her mind in the past. She never bothered when the opportunity came up.

The desire to purchase new equipment came to the forefront of Luna’s mind as the gears of the egg beater jammed in her hand and snapped apart. She bent her head and silently seethed at the pieces in her hands. Defeated, she slammed her right hand down on the counter.

“Dammit,” she growled and slid a hand over her forehead. The change in attitude caught Loki off-guard.

“What?” He said, creeping slowly to her side.

Luna lifted the piece in her left hand. “The egg beater broke.” She looked up at him sadly. “I’m sorry, Loki. I have to whip the whites to make the pancakes the way I need to make them, and without this, I can’t.” Her eyes fell to the bowl of eggless batter. She was faced with two options: toss it out or cover it for a later time. But she wished to do neither of them.

“Surely there’s another way.”

Luna huffed. “There is, but I would wreck my arm doing it.”

“How? And with what?” Loki pressed, placing his hands on his hips.

Luna looked back up at him dubiously. “Are you serious?”

“Yes. Now, do you have the instrument in question?”

Luna sighed and opened a drawer full of large metal utensils. Carefully digging around, she pulled out a whisk.

“It’s this.”

Loki held a hand out. “Here. Give here." She handed it to him, and he took it upon himself to take the bowl with the partially-beaten eggs in the other.

“Are you seriously planning on whipping those eggs by hand until they peak?” Loki shrugged. He was serious. “Can you really whip it fast enough?”

“Seeing is believing, so you’ll just have to watch.”

Luna could hardly believe him, but she was willing to let him prove it. “Alright. While you’re doing that, I’m going to go set up the other thing we got. You’ll need the time to yourself.” She threw the broken tool in the trash and made it a couple of steps out of the kitchen, but stopped. “Oh, and if you hurt yourself, don’t say I made you do it.”

Loki was surprised how accusatory she believed him to be, but he shook it off and turned the whisk around the bowl. He had been called worse things, and she was within her rights to practice caution. Faster and faster, he moved the egg whites to the best of his ability. Luna was right about how difficult it was. Lucky for him, he had the stamina and strength.

In his periphery, he spotted Luna taking apart the second box and extracting the object it housed. A slip of his hand drew his attention back to the bowl. He would have to keep his curiosity at bay for now. Judging by the faint white color of the eggs, he was making progress.

Soft music graced Loki’s ears. He had heard the tune before and found favor in it. A lively song by Ultravox. He paid no attention to the lyrics and title. His primary interest was to finish his job, but he allowed his body to sway and his foot to tap to the beat. No harm in enjoying some good music.

The steady rhythm coming from the stereo kept his whisk in time. Quickly enough, Loki found the eggs turning into white foam. He wondered if this was what Luna meant by ‘whip to peaks.’ He stopped and swirled the bowl around. It moved too fluidly for his liking, so, on he whisked. The eggs fluffed and stiffened more to his expectations, but Luna wasn’t there to inspect his work. He couldn’t know if they were up to her standard, and he would hate to disappoint.

Bowl and whisk cradled in his long arms, he padded over to his friend. A side glance from her confirmed she acknowledged his presence. He sat down beside her and placed the bowl next to him. The object she attended to took his attention for the time.

“What is this?” He asked.

“A Christmas tree. I didn’t think I would be allowed to have a real one in here, so I got this." Luna bent the wire branch until it sat perpendicular to the small trunk. “I know it’s fake and smaller than usual, but again, the symbolism counts for something.”

Loki grinned a little. “You could say, yes.”

Luna pulled at another branch and paused to admire her little tree. Pleased with it, for now, she sighed and gave her attention to Loki. "Are you done? With the thing?”

“I think so.” Loki took a last look inside the bowl and handed it to her. “Here.”

Slowly moving the whisk into the whites, she was dumbfounded. "You did this by hand? Completely? That fast?” They peaked the way she wanted them to.

“So unbelievable?” Loki contrived confidence, but he was still unsure.

“Uh, yeah,” Luna affirmed, a broad smile forming on her face. “Oh, Loki, it’s beautiful. Thank you.” The tension slowly gathering in Loki’s shoulder fell from him. She held nothing back. There was no reason for her to hide her appreciation. “Come on,” Luna rose to her feet, “let’s go finish it.” She looked down at Loki and nodded to the kitchen. “I really think you’ll like this.”

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As they ate, the two friends took care to upkeep idle chatter between them, keeping the music going in the background. Neither was in the mood for television. The subdued company of the other was enough.

Taking a bite of her second pancake, Luna pieced her words together and posed another question to Loki. “What traditional dances did you have on Asgard?” She sipped her tea. “There has to be at least one.”

Loki snuck another pancake from the main stack, making it his fifth, and dug into it. “A good few, actually.”

“Do you remember any, or is that something aristocrats didn’t participate in?” Luna snarked with a smirk. Loki chuckled and shook his head a little.

“No, we did. From kings to commoners, everyone danced.”

“Which was your favorite, if you had one?”

Loki paused, pondering over the length of his life. “The Asgardian Wedding Dance,” he answered, a little more timid than he would like.

Luna rested her chin on her hand. “Sounds romantic.”

“It was the tradition.” He shrugged, taking another bite of his meal. “Every marriage, no matter how high or low, enlisted the participation of the patrons in attendance. Aside from the children too young and those incapable, it was required of everyone to know it and join in.”

“And I assume you knew how.”

“Oh, of course," Loki stated, as though the thought of him not being able to perform it was blasphemous by itself. “For royal marriages, the newly-wedded couple go first, then the king and queen alongside them, then the princes and princesses,” he gestures to himself, “and so on until everyone got a turn or two.”

“And the newlyweds keep dancing? Until everyone gets to?” Luna had trouble imagining such a feat.

“Yes.” He took another bite. “The stamina required was symbolic of their commitment to each other. At all the ones I’ve been to, never have I seen a couple falter.”

“And the king and queen?”

“Likewise.” He reminisced on watching his parents dance together, a pleasant image in his mind. “They never stumbled or quit before everyone got a chance.”

“What about you?”

“Oh, I could dance until the sun rose twice over.” Loki thought back on his own jovial days of old. “My selected partners, however, could not. It was no fault of theirs. I was a little over-zealous at times.”

“You say it’s your favorite. Do you know why at all?” Luna tread lightly. She didn’t want Loki to suspect her of probing and clam up.

Luckily, he did not. “It was one of the very few times I could be seen as an equal prince of Asgard, not just the younger brother to the crown prince.”

Luna was taken aback a bit. “You mean no one did during any other time?” She brushed her fingertips against his arm. He shook his head. “Well, that’s disrespectful! Shame on them.”

Loki snickered. She was offended for him. How cute.

“There’s no use defending my honor. There’s nobody else here.” He waved his hand in the empty space.

“Yeah, but still. Shame on them.” Luna echoed herself, using her position as his friend and holding fast by him. “Do you remember how it goes?”

“I don’t think I could ever forget.”

Luna leaned in close, as though she were about to utter a secret. “Would it sacrilege if I asked you to show me?” Not a secret, but still scandalous in nature. She was not Asgardian, and surely not a princess by blood or marriage. He knew he would break multiple rules by taking her hand for this particular dance, but he was never one to listen to them, and there was no one around to see.

“Not in the slightest,” he lied, throwing in a charming smile, “though I do need a dance partner.” He dusted his hands off, stood up, and extended his hand to her. “If she be willing.” She eyed his open palm and moved her gaze to meet his.

“Lucky for you,” she said, slipping her hand into his, “she is.”

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