#I forgot to drink my hot chocolate while drawing this

[themadknightuniverse]

Lalito for practice day ✨

[pitchsidestories]

Pumpkins & Picnics II Laura Wienroither x Reader

masterlist I word count: 1771

Your girlfriend Laura and you were already about to leave Beth and Vivianne’s home which you visited earlier in the day when the Dutch woman put on a serious face: “Wait a second. Bring her home safely, okay?” “Of course, Viv.”, you reassured the older teammate not without a little eye roll at her direction. Home was not their place anymore for the Austrian home was the appartement you shared together. Smiling Beth scolded the dark-haired forward: “Viv leave the children alone.” “Sorry, Viv can be such a dad.”, Laura apologized.

But you just waved it off with a small grin on your lips: “It’s fine, I’m used to it by now.” “They’re really just looking out for me.”, the defender told you. With a sigh you admitted: “That’s in equal parts adorable and annoying because they should trust me by now.” “They do. Really.”, your girlfriend told you in a comforting tone which put your mind at ease.  

“Girls, you almost forgot your coats. You’ll need them for your outdoor picnic!”, Beth said making both of your heads turn as she handed you the coats.  “It’s not even that cold Beth. You’re such a mum.”, Laura laughed but the way she looked at the older forward was full of love. Nonchalantly the blonde shrugged her shoulders: “I don’t want you two to get sick that’s all, she stopped for a second before adding with a wink, Besides Arsenal needs your girlfriend let.” “Yes, yes I know.”, the Austrian mumbled.

Softly you tapped your girlfriend on her shoulder: “Come on, let’s go, Lau.” “Coming.”, she replied. Beaming you waved at the older couple: “Goodbye, Viv and Beth.” “Have fun, girls.”, the English national team player hummed.

It was a beautiful autumn day outside. The leaves were turning into all shades of yellow, orange and were softly falling from the trees. The lake to which you went was mirroring the colourful trees. “I think we can do our picnic here.”, you pointed to a place from where you had a perfect view at the water. While Laura and you were unpacking your things the Austrian whispered:” That’s beautiful.” “It really is, do you want a hot drink now?”, you asked her cheerfully. Excited your girlfriend nodded: “Yes, please. What have you got? Tea? Hot chocolate?” “Actually both.”, you confessed. The smile which appeared on her face warmed your heart as she stated: “Oh my god, you’re the best.”

“Only the best for you, Lau.”, you grinned as you handed her a cup of hot chocolate. The defender took it with both hands and breathed in the steam with closed eyes; “If I weren’t in love with you already, I’d be right now.” You fondly rolled your eyes as you poured yourself some hot chocolate; “Cheers.” Carefully, Laura clinked her cup against yours before taking the first sip; “It’s delicious.“ A comfortable silence settled in while you enjoyed the view with your hot drinks.

You quietly cleared your throat to draw your girlfriends attention back to you; “Lau? I’m so proud of your first run yesterday.” Her excited smile was the same as yesterday when she took her first steps out of the gym; “Thank you. It felt great to be back on the grass.” “I can imagine…”, you replied quietly, your gaze subconsciously shifting towards your own knee. One hand was tracing circles on your jeans in the places where your own knee surgery had left scars. “I can’t wait to play again.”, Laura went on, the longing for the football pitch now overshadowing the pride for her achievements. You nodded slowly; “Me neither. Something’s missing when you’re not on the field.“

With a mix of genuine light-heartedness and self-deprecation, she laughed; “I didn’t play that much anyway.“ “Right before your injury you did.“, you corrected her, biting your lip for bringing up the other injuries in the squad. Laura patted your knee; “Don’t worry, I’m okay. The ACL Squad is taking good care of me.“ “I’m glad they do. Because I can’t always be there like they can…“, you could not avoid the slight hint of sadness in your voice. At the same time you loved the team for it. Beth and Vivianne let Laura stay with them whenever she wanted and Leah was always in the gym when Laura was, celebrating every small progress. “I know.“, Laura answered with a soft voice. “Sorry.“ “It’s okay. Really.“

You could feel the mood shift and didn’t want it to affect your date, so you started to unwrap freshly baked cinnamon buns and offered them to your girlfriend; “Cinnamon bun?“ Lauras eyes went wide as soon as the smell of cinnamon and butter met her nose. Delighted, she took one; “Sure, thank you.“ “You’re welcome, love.“, you smiled warmly and took one for yourself. Laura took the first bite and hummed happily; “They’re so good.“ “Yes, I made them with the other Swedish Girls.“, you explained, satisfied with how much your girlfriend enjoyed the taste.The Austrian’s beamed: “Nothing better than real Swedish cinnamon buns.” “Agreed.”, you winked at her. Sheepishly smiling Laura admitted: “I could eat all of them.” “Seems like we need to make some more before Jonas team meeting.”, you observed amused your girlfriend’s hunger for the Scandinavian treat. The taste and scent of cinnamon buns always put a smile on your face because it reminded you of your home country.

The blonde could not help but to tease you: “Are you trying to convince him to let you start?” “Rude!”, you playfully slapped her upper arm. Innocently she smiled back: “What? It was just a question.” “Maybe I should them to Lina.”, you thought out loud. Your teammate really shined in recent national team games so it would have been only fair for her to get more game time in the club aswell. Confusion was in Lauras voice as she asked: “What?” “So, she is able to start?”, you explained. Determined the defender shook her head, holding the baked goods close to her chest:” You keep those delicious cinnamon buns right here.” “Okay, got it, Lau.”, you giggled. Pleased about your answer your girlfriend replied: “Thanks.”

A leaf slowly fell from the branch on to your light hair.: “Huch.”  “Oh wait. Let me get this one out of your hair.”, Laura offered while carefully removing the leaf from the top of your head. It was those small gestures that made you fall more in love with her everyday: “Thanks, Lau.” “Cute.”, she remarked. Grinning you suggested: “Maybe we should take that leave with us as decoration?” “To put it in your hair?”, the defender joked. You could not help but laugh: “No for our appartement.” “Oh. Right.”, Laura blushed.

Curiously you watched her walking around your blanket:” What are you doing?” “Picking up more leaves?”, the Austrian replied with an adorable smile. Immediately you stood up from your cozy place:“Wait, let me help you.” “Lia would be proud of us.”, she exclaimed delighted by that task which was something different to her monotone rehab days. You had to agree with your girlfriend’s observation: “Yes, except she wouldn’t let us take the leaves inside a house.” The Swiss woman was known in your team for always cleaning of her front porch as she did not like them there. Still, she was one of your closest teammates despite her peculiarities because let's be real everyone has them.

“I guess that’s true.“, Laura nodded thoughtfully. “She’s missing out on that though.“, you laughed. You looked up as your girlfriend didn’t answer. She was looking up at the exceptionally blue sky and the colourful trees, breathing in the crisp air. “It’s such a nice autumn day too. What’s more autumnal than colourful leaves?“, she finally said. “Very true.“, you agreed. “Oh, I know something.“, the Austrian answered her own question all of a sudden.

You cocked your head in surprise, waiting for her to go on; “Yes?“ “Pumpkins would be perfect right now.“, she beamed at you. Your jaw dropped; “Oh my god. Yes.“ Nothing screamed autumn quite like pumpkins did. “We could carve them. Or make pumpkin soup.“, Laura suggested, her eyes bright with excitement. “Or both. What do you think about that?“ Eagerly, your girlfriend nodded; “I’m in.“ “So, time to get a pumpkin.“, you said, starting to pack up your picnic. “Or two.“, Laura grinned while folding the blanket. “Right. One for carving and one for the soup.“

Holding hands, you left the lake side and made your way to a farmers market. Laura let out a squeal of delight when she saw a pile of pumpkins displayed. Carefully, she touched the smooth, round surface of one. You knew she had already decided to take this specific pumpkin home. “Maybe Viv and Beth want to carve a pumpkin too. What if we do an Arsenal themed one?“, you asked. “We should!“, she agreed. Together, you picked out some pumpkins. They were probably more than you would need but Laura was convinced to take them home.

At Beths and Viviannes house, you dropped off the pumpkins. Vivianne was eyeing the amount of vegetables on her kitchen tables while Laura and Beth immediately got to work to cook a pumpkin soup. The soup was slowly simmering on the stove, filling the kitchen with a delicious smell. Beth looked at the left over pumpkins on the table and grabbed a knife for carving; “So, Arsenal themed, huh?“ “Yeah, why?“, Laura asked innocently. Beth turned the pumpkin, trying to find the perfect side to work with; “Should it be the Club’s Logo?“ Amused, Laura shrugged and gave the older player a challenging look; “If you’re artistic enough for that.“

“Do we have something easier?“, Vivianne asked, not convinced that any of them would be able to reproduce the intricate details on a pumpkin. “We could do Win, the dog.“, Beth suggested. She and Laura had taken a particular liking to the team dog, so Laura nodded; “Oh yes!“ “As if that’s easier.“, Viv rolled her eyes but finally gave in. Happy with the outcome, you took out your phone and snapped a picture of the dog-themed pumpkin; “We finally made the pumpkin! Let me send this into the team group chat.“ “It looks like a cat though.“, Vivianne criticized with a smile. Beth nudged her; “Oh shush. The pumpkin soup is ready too.“

The sun was setting and your carved pumpkin illuminated the kitchen while you were crowded around the table enjoying the warm, comforting taste of the soup. You smiled to yourself. It was the perfect cozy autumn night to end the day.

[darkdevasofdestruction]

I've found a few focs where Mashita from Death Mark is portrayed as a yandere, & your headcanons are among the few that are really sweet & enjoyable. Thank you very much! May I request a Mashita x Reader where it's how they met, their first date, & their first kiss?

Oh, hell yes! I’m super happy that you like my portrayal of Mashita! I’ve been wanting to write a long fic with him for a few years now, and the chances of it happening are big, after how much fun I had, and still have, writing my story with Seiji from Spirit Hunter NG <3

You first met when Yashiki and Mashita went around the park to do their research of the Bee-Killer Shimi-o and they just found you somewhere in the forest, laying down on the grass, peacefully sleeping, for whatever reason.

Yashiki was looking at you weirdly, while Mashita, being in the law enforcement previously and having experience, went by your side and shook you awake - Only to notice, on the side of your neck, the Death Mark burnt into your skin.

So you were a victim too.

As Mashita called out his partner’s name, pointing out the problem, you fluttered your eyes open and looked up at the man touching you.

For a split second, you locked contact, and Satoru couldn’t help but admire those beautiful fawn eyes that even while tired, looking so innocent - And then, when you realised what was going on, you let out a gasp of realisation and leapt out of there, hiding behind a tree, farther away, barely brave enough to peek from behind it.

The two men tried to call out to you to calm down and explain the situation... But how could you believe two mental guys, in the middle of the forest, talking gibberish about ghosts and curses that would kill you?

Instead, you asked them to go back so you could run the hell away from there, but the brunet man let out a phone number and an address on a slip of paper and put it in a tree, telling you to go to him if you lose your memory or see the mark on your neck - And then, he took his friend and went deeper into the forest.

Relieved, you picked up your bag and the slip of paper and got out of there as soon as possible, ordering a pizza and drinking some hot chocolate to calm yourself down from the awful experience you just had.

The first strike was that you forgot the exact address you were staying at, though the muscle memory and inertia brought you to your home without realising.

The next was the next morning when you went to brush your teeth and saw the awful mark... And the third was that you had no idea where you worked or what were you supposed to do during the day.

Much to your anxiety, you went to the address given by that man and it brought you to a pretty basic apartment complex and you rang the bell - Thankfully, the man in cause answered rather quickly, and with a smug half-smile, he let you in and guided you to the living room where he treated you to some coffee and went to sit on the couch opposite of you.

The fourth strike, that was also the most painful, was when he asked you your name and you opened you mouth to answer, but nothing came out. Just blank. You had no idea what your name was.

And you started freaking out internally, while opening your wallet to look at your ID and telling him your name.

He felt pity, realising you’re in a situation as bad as Yashiki, but he also had that cult to investigate, so he was pretty caught up with two problems at once. Still, he showed you his own mark on his wrist and started telling you about the whole gist with the ghosts and curses and what not.

Then, he asked you why you wanted to kill yourself, which left you confused. “I have an herbs glossary. I usually go to that forest because it has a lot of different flowers so I put them in my glossary, draw them and write medical and botany facts about them.” you explained - To which he pointed out that, whilst you forgot a lot of things about yourself, that detail was something that still remained firm in your brain, so you were still doing well.

Without realising, Satoru protected you during the whole investigation and made sure you were doing alright during all of it - But when you had to go purify the ghost, he firmly told you to stay behind so you wouldn’t be hurt, seeing as the memory loss affected you the most out of them.

However, you soon realised that the two forgot the grass root and honey jar in the car so you sprinted out of the car, following the awful vibes that were guiding you, until you reached them and threw the two items at the ghost that was dangerously close and towering over the two.

The ghost was then purified and the two men let out of sigh of relief - Until Mashita went to you and shook you by the shoulders, frowning and reprimanding you for getting out of the car against his orders, and you could have gone hurt, or worse -

“But you forgot the purifying items! You could have died! What would I do without you?!” that explanation stunned the both of you, and immediately, you stepped away from one another, coughing awkwardly and putting the incident at the back of your minds.

When you went by the Kujo Mansion, the two of you were free of the Death Mark and were ready to leave, not wanting to stay any more in that awful place, though cozy, and apologising to Yashiki, Mashita took you out of there and said he would walk you by your home, under the pretext that he’s a man of the law and has to make sure you are safe.

But then he asked you out for a coffee the next day, in the most leisure and nonchalant way there was... So why wouldn’t you accept?

Your first date was as boringly normal as any date could be, just having a nice and hot coffee, a piece of cake, some nice background music, and just chilling - No ghosts, no curses, absolutely nothing that would threaten your livelihood.

And it was the most enjoyable thing in the world.

Tough he’s not a man of many words, he has some pretty interesting things to narrate, and you enjoyed all of them.

Likewise, he felt at ease hearing even the most boring story that you had to tell him, be that some gossip from your workplace or whatever childhood thing you knew growing up.

After a few more incredibly boring but incredibly fun and relaxing dates, and walks through parks that were definitely not haunted, he walked you home and just before you stepped inside your house, he grabbed your face and pulled you into a kiss, leaving you awestruck and wanting for more.

And the more dates you had, the more you got.

He’s a pragmatic, nihilistic and cynical person, and most of all, he loves teasing you, pinching your cheeks, ruffling your hair, giving you looks and what not, but he never means to hurt you.

He’s not the best with words, so he prefers letting his actions explain how he’s feeling - You never felt as safe, appreciated and loved as when you were with Satoru, feeling his arms around your body as he embraced you and kissed the top of your head.

Also, he loves it when he has his arm around you, pulling you to his side, or when you cling to his arm while walking around the city - It really strokes his ego and he feels like he’s really showing you off to the world, because you’re the best.

[hangesophtalmologist]

RORONOA ZORO X READER

pairing : roronoa zoro x reader

genre : fluff ; crack ; light mention of smut

synopsis : zoro refuses to take a taste of sanji's bakery... unless it's on your lips and savoured rhum.

warning : sanji being a simp (as usual) ; hot make out session?

words count: 1.4k

a/n : it took me months to finish this... and I forgot about it for a while

"Y/n-chwaaannnn," you heard Sanji shout from the other side of the Merry with a singing voice. "Do you want some biscuits I made for you ?"

You saw him running toward you with a tray full of bakeries. You chuckled and let the machine you were doing on the floor.

"Sure thing, chef !" you grinned, wiping the oil on your hands with a rag. "Thank you, Sanji."

"Anything for you Y/n-swaaaan," he answered, hearts filling his eyes and his whole body waving in a weird dance.

You smiled, taking a cake in your mouth and blessing the sky for having a Sanji in the crew.

"Ummmph itch delichious !" you groaned. "Sanchi you're the best !"

The cook immediatly started to faint, heart in eyes, and ran into the kitchen to bake biscuits for Nami and Robin.

You glanced at Zoro, sleeping next to you. You smirked, a devilish idea popping in your head. You took an elastic at your wrist and drawed out it between two of your fingers. You then aimed at the swordsman, and let the elastic plough into his forehead.

"Oi Marimo, wake up" you yawned in the same time where Zoro opened his eyes, a dangerous expression on his face.

"What do you want, woman ?"

You chuckled, noticing a vein popping out of his forehead. You handed him the tray where he landed his only eye with a condescending look.

"This is why you woke me up ?" the moss head asked with almost a threatening voice.

"Yes sir, your welcome," you responded with a grin. "Now eat."

You knew the swordsman usually didn't really take time to eat when it was not the official meals. It was either because he was training hard, or sleeping. But instead of taking a cake like you asked him, he closed his eye and went back to sleep. You stared at him with a blank face.

"Did-. Did you just- ? You know, ignored me ?"

You saw Zoro holding a smirk and understood that he was taunting you. Uh, he wanted to play this game ? You glared at him, sighing with a very dramatically tone :

"Well, I guess I'll have to eat all of these delicious cakes all by myself..."

Earning no reactions, you took one sweet in your mouth and chewed it loudly while humming in agreement.

"Mmhh this one is strawberry" you loudly commented while eating and almost immediately grab another one. "Oh and this one caramel. Damn, Sanji's a god."

You continue to eat every cake while speaking to yourself, appreciating every flavours of Sanji's creations. Zoro didn't move from one inch, and you started to think that he actually fell asleep. G-r-e-a-t, you ironically tought. This won't lead me no where.

At the moment this thought crossed your mind, the taste of alcohol and chocolate filled your mouth. And alcohol that both the swordsman and you knew very well, since it was his favourite drink in the world. You stared at the half that you didn't eat with a devilish grin. Yeah, here it was, your revenge...

"Oh my God !" you shouted with excitement, catching Zoro's attention who was still pretending to be asleep. "Saké and praline ! Delicious !"

Following your expectations, the moss head opened his eye with a rumble, and within a second, his torso was up, his look scanning the area.

"Saké. Where ?"

You glared at him, now having the proof that he was indeed ignoring you the whole time. You rolled your eyes, and went on with your act.

"In this marvellous cake..." you started while showing him your hand where the last piece of bakery saké-praline was. "That you, unfortunately, refused to eat."

"Tch, don't play with me. Hand it."

"And what are you going to do ? Slice me ? Go ahead, you'll have blood on your saké chocolate" you crossed your arms with a blank expression.

"Y/n" Zoro called dangerously.

"What ? You want me to give this delicious piece of heaven to an ungrateful brat ?"

You were resting against the barrier, and felt really confortable until Zoro took a step closer. His right arm was now planted next to your knee, and his imposing chest was towering you, invading your personal space.

"Give it to me, woman"

You rolled your eyes, appearing unfazed by his move.

"Yeah, right, use strenght on me and assault me, go on, man," you sarcastically said. "I'm not letting you taste this"

And in a second, you stuck the other hald of the saké bakery between your teeth, sending Zoro a challenging look. He did not have any time to react as he watched you slowly chew and swallow his treasure.

The swordsman had a deadpanned face for a short moment, until a devilish smirk stretched his lips.

"Yummy, very tasty. You should congrats Sanji for th-"

The feeling of rough lips on yours forced you to stop talking as your eyes widened. Slowly but surely, you proceed to realize that the two of you were actually kissing. You heart missed a beat, as you hesitated to return it. Finally, you felt Zoro's hand travelling to your chin to grab it and depen the kiss, and eventually you gave in and moved your lips along his.

After a few seconds of intense make-out session, the man eventually got away, licking his lips as he went backwards with a cocky smirk.

"You were right, very tasty," he tilted his head with an amused tone, noticing how flustered you were. "But I'm not going to congrats this shitty cook anytime soon."

"I'm warning you, do this again and I'm slashing your balls," you ignored his comment, sending him a glare.

"Do what ? Kiss you ?" the swordsman asked with a proud smirk.

"Kissing me without asking for my permission," you precised with a severe look.

"As if you didn't like it."

"That's not the point."

"Oh, so you did like it," Zoro's smirk widened.

You rolled your eyes, refraining the corner of your lips to stretch and reveal that you were enjoying the situation.

"Shut up," you shushed him.

His smile grew even more, and he leant a little bit on your direction, before sending you a playful look.

"Make me," he mocked, leaning agains the barrier and waiting for your reaction.

Your heart beat faster from both the exictement and the surprise of hearing those words. Raising your eyebrow to show him you were by no way impressed by his words, you slowly stretched up to get closer than him. Zoro was staring at you, impatiently waiting to see what you were going to do.

You, always in a very slow path, positionned yourself right in front of him so that your knees where planted right next to his waist. It was your time to towering him. You then felt the heat of his hands on your waist, his fingertips lightly brushing against your skin. You put both your arms on his shoulders, as you lazily let your hands caress his neck and hair. Zoro was now craving for your touch, and he knew your slowliness was just your way of punishing him for not asking your consent earlier. Faces a few centimeters away, it was taking him everything to not crash his lips onto yours. But fist, he was nowhere near admitting his "defeat, and second you made clear you were in command, so now he needed to wait.

You stared right into his eyes, savouring all the desire it held. You cared really deeply about him. You truly did. Unconsciously, you closed the gap between your lips and gently kissed him, according the rhythm of your mouths with the one of your caresses.

Sat onto him, his abs were maintaining him on his half-sitting position. Seing how eager he got into the kiss, you internally smirked and pushed him a little bit so that he layed down on the floor, you over him.

You played along for a few seconds, before abruptly getting away and breaking the kiss. Still sat onto Zoro, you winked at him and quickly got away, before he could grab you and pull you back in an other heated make-out session. You smirked down at him, ignoring his glare and snickered :

"See ? You know how to shut up."

He stayed silent for short moment, before finally standing up. He silently grabbed his swords, and started walking away, passing right next to you. Zoro stopped when he was by your side, and leant towards your ear.

"We'll see later if you know how to shut up."

...what ?

[sashi-ya]

Christmas event :D

Rosinate x reader chocolate

Reader where she's just cooking with little law while waiting for Rosi to arrive from his marine duty and then do Christmas stuff and sitting and cuddling in the fire place while drinking hot choco( OMG this is so cute just thinking Abt it 😭❤️ ) and then in the morning Rosi tells law to open his gifts in the Christmas tree and holy shit imagine the kids adorable smile ❤️😭🥰

Thank you for doing this <33

My darling you made me the happiest person alive by requesting this. My perfect life would definitely look like this if I ever got the chance to ask for something. THANK U for requesting this, thank u so much. I hope you enjoy!!! Happy Holidays! 💖

Chocolate

Rosinante x Gn! Reader ft. Little Law

Day 10: Our First Christmas Together ~

tw: none. excess of cuteness. Law is 7 y/o as always when I wrote for him as a child.

a/n: the notebook is inspired on the canon fact that Law drew himself his jolly roger while living at Mr. Wolff's. (You can read the novel here) (yeah I draw them to look like crayons and let's pretend that's Law's handwriting pls hahaha)

wc: 1333

White spots cover little Law's face…

This time is not from the amber lead, but from some powdery sugar.

Sickness turned into sweetness. Rosinante and you, Law’s beloved protectors. Law’s second chance in life, Law’s first Christmas with Cora and you.

He is standing on his special yellow booster to reach for the kitchen countertop, and both you and him, are baking some gingerbread men. It was surprising Law liked them, since he doesn’t like anything bread related, apparently cookies were an exception.

“How do you want to decorate them, Law?” you ask, searching for some sprinkles and chocolate melts. “Uhm, I think I want to add a smiling face. Let me show you, I’ve made a few drawings…” the little bean of joy says and runs up to his room.

“Law! you are gonna get sugar all ov…. Never mind”

Law is as methodical as a grown up, but still a kiddo. There is no way you could scold him, he wants to show you something he drew, you will have time to clean afterwards. Plus this is your first Christmas together…

The tanned skin, crystalline grey eyes, cute kiddo shows you some designs out of a yellow notebook.

“Law!! How pretty!!” you joyfully tell him, because they are indeed really cute. “Do you think Cora would like them? They are inspired by…” he stops himself; a light dust of crimson invades his cheeks. “Are they inspired by daddy's smile? I can see it clearly! He would love them. I tell you what, prepare the page because he will surely want them in his office” you tell him, cleaning some of the sugar off his nose.

Law’s smile widens, and his eyes shine with a special sparkle. He is well aware, despite being so young, how Rosinante’s actions have allowed him to keep on living. Law sees him as the representation of life. And you, you too. There are no gray clouds that could opaque the sunlight of Cora’s smile. He is your sun, Law’s sun.

“Let’s finish them before he is home!” he says, rolling up his sleeves. “Sure! Plus we need to do some more for Santa tonight”. Law gives you a side look, he is at that age some of his friends tell them Santa doesn’t exist but he still wanna believe he does. In any case, Rosi and you have decided to keep with the “lie” as long as he tells you to stop. A little bit of fantasy and magic never hurt anybody, right?.

Law managed to create a special bowl with milk for Santa, that he left next to the tree for the old guy to indulge after leaving the presents. He didn’t ask for anything, Law indeed never does, but he will get many presents this year…

Both of you get so into the decoration of the cookies and preparing the dinner table you don’t realize the time passes by faster than expected. Soon, a huge thump could be heard outside the house.

“DADDY'S HOME!”

Law seems more excited than ever, he even forgot about his characteristic “bad mood” and it’s jumping all over the place -until he notices you are looking at him- but even though, it’s always heartwarming to see him so happy.

Rosinante shakes the snow off his shoulders and hangs his white Marine cape. The shift at the base is over, and the night is settled to have a wonderful warm Christmas family dinner. Law runs to Cora’s arms, being lifted by him (almost hitting the kiddo’s head against the ceiling).

“Hello, my dear husband~” you purr, smiling at the sweetest image of him holding your little ray of sun. Rosi comes closer and kisses your lips softly and lovingly, while Law is crushed against you two since he has them on arms.

“AHHHHH” Law shouts. “A sandwich of loveee!!! Law, you are being trapped by the love bread!!!” you shout, snuggling him with pure love and sweetness. You all laugh at Law’s cheeks being squeezed and after that you head to the dining room.

Christmas decorations, delicious food Law helped you to prepare and arrange, and carols playing (Law was against playing them, but still). Rosi and you enjoy the delicious food, while listening to Law speak about the new operation the read of. You are not disgusted of course, but Rosi, who is absolutely grossed out by blood, tries to endure through the details of the procedure Law is commenting on.

You suggest for them to go sit next to the fireplace to have some cocoa and cookies. Law fidgets on his seat because he knows those are gonna be his cookies. The bean is anxious to show Cora his creation, and to see if he notices.

You were absolutely sure he would notice, but you decided to send him a message earlier just to tell him…

You > Love, your son is making you cookies. He drew the designs himself and are inspired by your smile. I’m sure you will notice, but just in case. Oh, did you get the Sora figure?” Hubby ❤> Oh I’m gonna hug him so tight, you have no idea!” Hubby ❤ > 📎sent an attachment:

Hubby ❤ > And I did, it’s on the trunk well packed with yellow paper 🙊

You three chose to wear the special pajamas you bought. “Mx. Noel”, “Mr. Noel” & “Little Santa Helper” embroidered on the front of them. Pillows scattered in front of the fireplace with the three boots hanging from it, of course.

“So, here are the stars of the night, Law's sweetest creation, smiling cookies!” you cheer bringing three cups of cocoa, escorted by the kiddo bringing a batch with the cookies. Rosinante, of course, sitting on the floor -because he was banned from moving, just to avoid any unwanted accidents-.

Cora starts screaming, scaring Law with the shouts and the excitement, but making him laugh shortly after. “Excuse me little guy… that’s my…?” he asks, ready to attack Law with a million kisses. “UH… YOUR SMILE” he says, up and straightforward, hiding under his hat after because of the intense embarrassment.

But the hat didn’t last longer over his black spiky hair, because his dad had already knocked it off in a kisses and hugs attack. “AHHH DAD!!!” Law shouts, while you watch the fight next to you, and there is nothing else you could ever ask in your whole life. You were the richest person in the whole world.

After some story reading, you sitting in between Cora’s legs and Law sitting in between yours, drinking hot chocolate and enjoying the lovely cookies, Law finally fell asleep. “Oh he is asleep” you whisper to your hubby. “Right, let’s take him to his bed”

Rosi and you carry the little bean to his bed, tucking him and kissing his forehead goodnight. “Sleep tight, son” Cora whispers, and you, on tippy toes, reach for his cheek to kiss him. “What a wonderful dad you are, babe”.

Before going to sleep you two enjoyed the cookies and milk “for Santa” and arranged the presents all around the tree. Rosi also used a little bit of flour to simulate Santa’s snowy boots footprints.

Cora wasn’t able to sleep until no more than 6 am on Christmas day. He was so excited he had to go and wake up Law to go see the gifts. And of course, cause “like father, like son” (even if they weren’t connected by blood) the two of them go downstairs running.

You, still with a sleepy face and messy hair, used your den den mushi to record the reaction. Law was on the verge of crying while opening his gifts. Tears of joy. He isn’t a consumerist child; he didn’t even ask for a gift in his letter to Santa. But the love he received was, for him, the most precious gift he could ever have gotten.

Oh, and the Sora figure.

He even slept with it for many many years. 💖~

[lovelybarnes]

hot chocolate- p. parker

pairings: peter parker x reader, implied mother figure!natasha romanoff x reader, mentions of other characters warnings: teasing (but all lighthearted) about: peter is making hot chocolate in the summertime. the avengers have thoughts.

peter can already feel the onslaught of teasing the moment he brings the gallon of milk out of the fridge. sam and bucky are walking past, their conversation quieting and steps pausing when they notice him turning on the stove. “what are you doing? need warm milk to go to sleep?” sam questions, raising an eyebrow and sharing a look with bucky.

“no,” peter responds simply, pouring the milk into a mug and then dumping that into a small pot already placed on the lit stovetop. bucky spots the bag of chocolate and mini marshmallow mix on the counter, beginning to frown when tony passes. “stark, your kid is doing something weird again,” sam lets him know, the again referring to a week ago, when he caught peter pushing a humongous plant into the elevator. the reason- he prefers not saying.

tony looks from sam to peter, cocking his head when he realizes what he’s doing. “are you making hot chocolate right now?” he asks, eyebrows furrowed. “yes,” peter answers, a blush growing on his neck at being stared at by his mentor. “in the middle of a very hot summer?” tony continues, tone confused. peter cringes, “yes…?”

“i can’t even defend you this time,” tony mutters, giving up and walking away after an awkward silent minute of peter refusing to give any more information. “it’s like ninety degrees out today,” a new voice joins in, which peter instantly recognizes as steve. peter groans, mixing the heating milk with a spoon. “why are you making hot chocolate?” he wonders.

“i just… it just- it isn’t even hot in the tower!” peter exclaims in defense, turning to the newly formed group and sighing when he notices natasha walking towards it. great, he thinks, now the scariest person in the world is going to question me. like her being my girlfriend’s mother isn’t enough.

peter urges the milk to heat faster. it does not oblige.

“you’re making hot chocolate?” natasha asks, but peter is relieved to hear only genuine curiosity in her words and not the criticism and teasing he was fearing from her. peter turns to her, “y- yes. yes ma’am i am.”

“okay.” natasha shrugs after a moment, “don’t call me ma’am.”

“yes ma’am,” peter nods, watching her leave and squeezing his eyes shut when he realizes his mistake. “mister parker, the milk is about to burn,” friday informs helpfully, making peter turn back to what he was supposed to be paying attention to quickly and shutting off the stove. he cannot go through making another batch because he burnt milk in front of the avengers. “thank you friday,” he says.

he drains the milk into the mug again, chuckling softly when he reads the monogrammed words on the side of it, spiderman? nah. yourman. he still remembers your bright grin when he gave it to you for christmas, immediately easing all his worries that it was too cheesy. you had laughed when he told you his other options, pushing at his shoulder and scolding him for not putting them all on there.

it was your favorite mug nonetheless, and you never let anyone- other than him- touch it.

the metal spoon he’s using to mix in the chocolate powder clinks against the ceramic of the mug, inviting more narrowed eyes at him. “hot chocolate? oh, that’s such a good idea,” scott notes from his place next to hope as he walks to the elevator. “it’s not. you were just complaining over how hot you were,” hope points out. “maybe cassie will want some,” scott trails off.

peter sighs in relief when he feels the mix is blended together enough, reaching over to his side to grab the bag of mini marshmallows. “more?” someone criticizes behind him, and peter nods as he drops some into the mug. you always like extra.

“um. goodbye,” peter excuses when he turns, startled to still see sam and bucky standing there. he can still see them staring while the elevator doors close, making him exhale a breath he didn’t realize he was holding when the doors shut completely. his fingers tap against your mug while the elevator rises, his eyes watching the little red numbers in front of him rise until they reach your floor. he straightens his back, the sting of the burn from the hot chocolate unnoticeable to him because of his spider enhancement. it’s why you always hand him your hot drinks. you always kiss his fingers and nose in thanks, though.

he steps out when the doors part, walking straight to your room and quietly pushing open the door. “pete!” you say happily, throwing your phone on your bed while you sit up to greet him. “my hot chocolate!” you gasp, taking it from his hands and smelling it, “just how i like it,” you smile.

“you know i was just kidding, right?” you ask tentatively, putting the mug down on your bedside table and grabbing his warmed hands to press your lips all over his fingertips. “i did not,” peter replied with a laugh, “d’you still want it?”

“of course, i was kidding about wanting you to make me one but i still want one nonetheless,” you declare, pressing a kiss to his nose and then, finally, to his lips. “thank you,” you mutter against them, one of your hands sneaking around his neck to play with the soft curls at the nape of his neck. “‘course,” your boyfriend whispers, kissing you again.

“i hope no one gave you a hard time,” you comment, leaning away from peter to grab your mug, fingers unconsciously tracing the words of the pun on your mug. your other hand is busy with the spoon, grabbing all of the marshmallows and putting them in your mouth as you moan at the taste. “i forgot how much i missed this,” you mumble, still waiting for his response.

“no. no hard time, but everyone thinks i’m weird now,” he tells you, making you laugh. “you are,” you shrug, giggling at the look of betrayal on his features as you drink your hot chocolate. “you’re the one who wanted a hot chocolate in the summer!”

“you’re the one who puts up with me,” you retort, snuggling into him when he settles in next to you, drawing an arm around your shoulders. “with pleasure,” he replies, kissing your forehead.

[ueyyuey]

Happy birthday, Kuroba Kaito!

A short oneshot to celebrate our magician's birthday since i didn't have time to draw the comic :'

Enjoy!

Warning: Full fluff!

.

He was having breakfast with Shinichi while talking about their plan for that day.

But silently, Kaito was waiting for his detective to wish him something.

Once they finished, Shinichi took everything, leaving Kaito's drink to clean them. Kaito sighed once he out of his sight.

Guess he forgot huh?

He looked intensely at his hot chocolate. He knew sometimes Shinichi could be forgetful sometimes unless someone told him. However, Kaito couldn't help and hope Shinichi would give him something special every morning on his special day, something like wishing him or something and not during evening or night. It was not like he didn't like it but imagined how happy he would be to start his day if Shinichi wished him in the morning. How he knew his day would be sooo lovely.

He looked at his watch.

Oof. Need to go now.

Kaito drank his remaining hot chocolate and stood up. He walked towards Shinichi, put down his cup and hugged Shinichi from behind.

"Shinichi, I'm going now."

Shinichi hummed, smile on his face while Kaito kissed his neck from behind.

"Take care okay?"

Kaito squeezed Shinichi tighter and smiled against the hickey he had left behind on his detective's neck. Kaito nodded and pulled out to walk away.

He was almost out of the kitchen before Shinichi called his name.

"Kaito. Wait."

He turned and watched Shinichi wiped his hands and walked towards him, feeling confused.

"What is it?"

Shinichi pulled his sleeve once Kaito was in his reach. He was silenced and Kaito blinked. Feeling worried, he wanted to ask what was wrong because Shinichi looked kinda nervous.

Until a pair of warm lips was pressed againts his cheek.

"Happy birthday, Kaito."

Kaito was stunned. He was stunned when Shinichi said that with so soft voice. When Shinichi was smiling so bright that can rival the sun. When Shinichi was looking at Kaito with so much love. When Shinichi's face was so red and so adorable.

"Kaito?"

Shinichi asked worriedly when Kaito didn't move.

"Hey wha--"

Kaito put his arms on the other's waist and pull the other for a deep kiss. Shinichi was trying to pull apart but Kaito didn't let him. He had tried pushing the other but Kaito kept kissing him.

"Take that as my gratitude."

He said once he let go of his lover and he dared to wink at Shinichi.

Feeling like he could explode any moment because his face was so hot right now, he stepped on Kaito's feet but not enough to hurt the magician and glared.

Kaito just laughed and gave a quick peck at Shinichi's lips again.

"Just get going already!"

Shinichi squeaked while pushed Kaito away.

"Alright alright."

He laughed loudly, feeling happier than just now.

A small smile shaped on Shinichi's lips when he heard the laugh.

The end~

[tobesolonely]

it’s not christmas ‘til you come home

a/n: hello!! please enjoy this piece from my dad!harry universe! (u dont have to read any of them for it to make sense, but it would be cool if u did! loosely based on it’s not christmas ‘til you come home by norah jones <3 hope you enjoy! thank u to @harryysstyless​ for beta reading for me!! happy holidays everyone :)

warnings: SMUT, a bit of angst <3 word count: ~5.1k 

my ko-fi! thank you :)

December 23rd, 2:00 PM

For as long as you and Harry have been in a relationship, you’ve never not spent a Christmas together. 

Before expanding your family, you and he used to hop from party to party every Christmas Eve. Both of you would be absolutely trashed by the time Harry’s driver would drop you off at his house in the early hours of the morning. You’d sleep in until approximately noon, willing your hangovers to go away before finally making it down the stairs and into the kitchen to prepare two steaming cups of coffee. The two of you would then make your way into the living room and exchange gifts (where Harry always went way over the budget you’d set). 

Once you had your first child, Allison, your yearly tradition of party hopping and getting so drunk you could hardly put one foot in front of the other was no more. Instead, you and Harry opted for calm nights in, watching Christmas movies and drinking hot cocoa until she eventually grew tired and got carried up to bed. You would wait an hour or so before springing into action, playing Santa and setting out all of the gifts she asked for and then some. Harry never forgot to take a big bite out of the cookie and carrot left out for Santa and his reindeer.

This tradition stayed the same once your second baby, Oliver, was born. Even though he was too young to know what was going on, Harry was still excited to spoil him rotten this year as it was his first Christmas. However, given the current state of the world, you were afraid Harry would not be here for the first time ever.

“Mumma, when’s daddy coming home?” your six-year-old, Ally, asked for what had to be the seventh time that afternoon. “I made him a drawing for his gift ‘nd I can’t wait for him to see it!”

“Let me see what you drew for Daddy, love bug,” you say cheerily, purposefully glossing over her question. Ally proudly holds her drawing up next to her face. She looks up at you with wide eyes, awaiting a compliment from you. 

“That’s gorgeous, bug! Daddy’s gonna love it,” you inform her. “Maybe you can stick a lil’ bow on it and set it under the tree for him, hmm?” 

“Good idea, Mumma!” Ally runs to the box where you kept all the supplies for gift wrapping, digging around for a pink bow to stick on the corner of her drawing.

While she’s preoccupied with finding the perfect bow to place on her drawing for Harry, you take a quick glance at your phone. He still hadn’t gotten back to you since last night’s quick conversation when he very briefly mentioned he didn’t know if he’d be able to make it home.

He was filming in Los Angeles. You shared your uncertainties about him going before he departed but in the end, this was an opportunity you didn’t want him to miss out on. You read the Los Angeles Times free articles on your phone daily, keeping track of the state of the pandemic in Southern California. You knew it was much worse there than it was at home in London. You feared what you were afraid of was sadly bound to happen— Harry may get stuck in LA.

You didn’t want to say anything to your curious daughter because communication with him had been so sparse. You didn’t know anything for certain yet. But what were you supposed to think? You knew flying nationally wasn’t a good idea at the moment, never mind internationally.

“Hey bug, d’ya think you can watch your brother for a moment? Mumma’s gotta go make a phone call.” 

You hear your daughter let out a slightly irritated sigh. “I suppose I can, Mumma.” Ally responds with a voice laced with exasperation. You chuckle slightly under your breath at your overly dramatic (much like her dad) six-year-old and head into the kitchen, quickly dialing your husband’s familiar number.

“Hello?” 

You let out a sigh of relief upon hearing Harry’s low, hoarse voice. 

“Hi, honey. Just checkin’ in to see how things are going…” you hear shuffling on his end. “It’s December 23rd, you know.”

“I know, love.”

“Did I wake you?”

“Six in tha’ mornin’ here.”

“I’m sorry, H. S’just Allison keeps on askin’ when you’ll be home and ‘m just so worried you won’t make it home on time and you’ll miss Oliver’s first Christmas—“

“Darling,” Harry interrupts your anxiety-fueled ramble. “‘M gonna make it home. Have I ever not been there when I said I would?” 

“No,” you say quietly. “I’m just worried, Harry. I hear traveling is going to get very strict because they’re trying to prevent people from going anywhere for Christmas…”

“Fine, then I’ll get my own plane with jus’ me and a pilot. Wear a mask the entire time and whatnot. Yanno I can make that happen if it’s necessary, pet.” 

Harry’s calm demeanor about the whole situation brings you a bit of peace. Perhaps you were catastrophizing something that wasn’t as big of a deal as you thought it was a mere two minutes ago. If he wasn’t worried about not making it home, you didn’t see any reason to stress about it— not for one second longer.

“Okay then,” you reply, still a bit wary of his travel plans. “What shall I tell your daughter? She’s drivin’ me up the walls asking where you are every twenty minutes.”

Your husband lets out a breathy laugh, causing you to giggle along with him. “Tell her not to eat up all the Christmas cookies before I get a taste of one.”

December 24th, 8:45 AM

Part of you was hoping you’d wake up on Christmas Eve and Harry would be tucked into bed next to you, plump lips parted, the sound of his snores the only noise in the room. However, you were a rational woman, if nothing else. You knew he wouldn’t be by your side when you woke up. 

You make your way down the hall and peek inside your son’s room. He was fast asleep, plump thumb in his mouth. You smile at your sleeping baby and gently close the door behind you, deciding to let him sleep in a bit longer before waking him up to feed him. 

Next, you walk to your daughter's room, gently pushing open the door in case she was still sleeping. Instead, you find her sat at her desk, deeply focused on what appeared to be another drawing. 

“Good morning, lovebug,” you greet your daughter in a sing-songy voice. “You’re up early. What are you working on?”

“Makin’ a letter for Santa,” she replies, not bothering to look up from what she was doing. 

“A letter for Santa?” You start racking your brain for anything you and Harry could’ve possibly forgotten to get for Ally, but you finished your Christmas shopping for your children way back in November.

“Yes,” she answers matter-of-factly. “‘M askin’ him to make sure my Daddy is home by tonight so we can eat cookies together and watch Toy Story, Mumma.” 

“I’m sure Santa will make that happen for you,” you reassure her. “You’ve been a very good girl this year, been so helpful with Olly and doin’ so well in school. The least Santa can do is get you whatever you want.” You see her smile as she digs around in her crayon box.

“Can we wait ‘til Daddy gets home to make Santa’s cookies, Mumma?”

“Sure we can, bug,” Ally claps her hands together excitedly, bouncing around in her tiny chair. “Gonna go make some pancakes, does that sound yummy?”

“Can we have chocolate chip pancakes please?”

“Are you askin’ me that because your dad isn’t here to throw a fit about it?” You give her a knowing smile, causing her to giggle.

“Maaaaybe…” Your daughter turns to face you, swinging her legs back and forth.

“If I make your chocolate chip pancakes, you can’t tell your dad. Deal?” You hold up your pinky. Ally gets up and runs to you and you bend down slightly so she can link her finger with yours.

“I pinky promise, Mumma!”

“Our little secret, yeah?” she nods. “Keep an ear out for your brother for me, bug. I’ll be downstairs.”

December 24th, 3:00 PM

“Love? ‘M afraid I got some bad news...”

As soon as Harry’s voice comes through on the other line, you can tell whatever news he’s about to share with you won’t be what you’re wanting to hear.

“What is it?”

It’s silent for what feels like entirely too long. You get up from your position on the couch next to Ally, telling her you’ll be right back. After breakfast, she convinced you to watch Toy Story with her, which quickly turned into a whole Disney movie marathon.

“Not so sure I’ll be able to make it home.”

You’re not sure if it’s his calm tone that bothers you, the fact that you didn’t want him to go to Los Angeles in the first place, or simply the fact that you and your children missed him terribly and haven’t seen him in nearly a month–– but your mood changes from relaxed to undeniably outraged in three seconds flat.

“You’re kidding.” Your tone is sharp, venomous. Harry once again takes a moment before responding, knowing that the current tone of your voice means he’d best proceed with caution.

“‘M not, love. I woke up early and everything to try and get this sorted out, it’s 7 AM so I was gonna try and catch an early flight––”

“I told you I didn’t want you going to LA,” you cut him off, voice rising slightly. “You knew how bad the pandemic was getting there. I told you this would happen.”

“What do you suppose I do then, Y/N?” His tone is becoming equally as sharp. “Y’want me to tell ‘em, “Sorry, I don’t give a fuck about the travel restrictions. My wife wants me home so let's make it happen!” ‘S that what you want me to do?”

“Don’t be a smartass, Harry,” you spit. “I’ll give the phone to your daughter and you can tell her you won’t be home in time for Christmas, then.”

“Y/N…” his tone is calm again. Fearful. “Don’t make me do that.”

“She woke up early to write a letter to Santa to tell him she wants you home by tonight, Harry,” your tone softens as well. “Even Olly has been asking for you. Swear his new favorite word is ‘dada’.” He laughs at this as do you, and the shared tension that was present just minutes ago dissipates. 

“Just… lemme try a few more things before I tell her, yeah?”

“Harry, it’s already three here,” you gently remind him. “Even if you do make it home today, she’ll be asleep by the time you’re home. I think you just need to tell her.”

Your husband sighs, knowing you were undeniably correct. “Alright. Give Allison the phone, please.”

December 24th, 8 PM

“Almost time for you to head to bed soon, yeah Allybug?” Your daughter lets out a loud sigh in response, not shifting her gaze from the television to you. Ever since Harry told her he wouldn’t be home in time to eat cookies with her, she’s hardly said a word. She’s never experienced a Christmas Eve without her father so understandably, she was missing him tonight.

You shift Olly, who was falling asleep nursing on your lap, into a different position so you could face your daughter directly. From your new position, you can see just how tired she looks. 

“‘M not sleepy, Mumma. Gonna stay up and wait for Daddy,” she informs you of her new plans. “When Daddy is home that’s when it’s time for bed.”

“Ally, remember what Daddy told you on the phone earlier? Santa won’t come unless you go to sleep.”

“I don’t wanna sleep,” she’s quickly starting to grow upset. “Not until Daddy tucks me in!”

You purse your lips, not wanting to argue with your headstrong daughter when your son was so close to drifting off into his nightly milk coma. Turning your attention back to the movie that was quietly playing on the television, you decide to drop it for now and try again later.

December 24th, 9:05 PM

Not more than an hour later, Olly is upstairs in his crib fast asleep whilst Ally is still laying on the floor in front of the Christmas tree, fighting sleep. She was determined to stay up until her father walked through the front door, and you knew getting her to agree to go to bed was going to be a battle and a half.

“You’re not ready to go to bed yet, Ally?” Her eyes fly open once she hears you addressing her.

“Not yet, Mumma. ‘M not sleepy yet.” Her words are a little slurred due to the exhausted state she was in. You hum in response.

“Could’ve sworn your eyes just shut for a minute there,” you pause for a second to see if she’ll look your way. “Must’ve just been my old lady eyes playin’ tricks on me, y’think?”

“I wasn’t sleeping!” She immediately defends herself, frown lines indenting her forehead. “Can we drink more hot chocolate?”

You knew if you wanted your daughter to fall asleep within the hour, another sugar rush wasn’t the best idea. You instead offer her a hot cup of sleepytime tea and she excitedly agrees once you tell her it’s her father’s favorite type of tea to drink at bedtime. You place her down on the kitchen counter while you fill the kettle and wait for it to whistle.

“What are you looking forward to the most from Santa, bug?” 

Her eyes light up at your question. “Well, I really want a new bike! ‘Member Mumma? How I asked him for a pink bike? And I also want a cool swing set! Since we haven’t been able to go to the park in so long,” her smile falters and she looks down at her dangling feet. “I want Daddy to come home the mostest, though.”

Your heart feels like it’s going to break in two upon hearing your daughter admit that Harry being home would be the greatest gift of all. “So do I, lovebug. He’ll be here in the mornin’ to watch you and your brother open all the gifts Santa got you though, don’t you worry.”

For everyone’s sake, you hoped that was true.

December 24th, 11:50 PM

Sleep wasn’t coming easy. 

You finally got your daughter to bed at around ten o’clock and waited thirty minutes before laying out your children’s gifts. It took much longer than it usually did considering you had to do it all on your own. Harry was usually the one to quickly assemble the larger toys while you laid everything out around the living room. 

Despite it taking longer than desired, you were proud that you got it all done without waking your children up. Consequently, that meant you were now left all alone with your thoughts considering you had no more tasks to occupy yourself with. 

You kept contemplating calling Harry, but you weren’t sure if he was busy on set or not. Surely he was immersing himself in work to distract himself from the fact he would not be spending Christmas with his family. 

Deciding you may need a cup of the sleepytime tea you offered Allison earlier, you quietly get out of bed and open your door, sock-clad feet padding softly against the wooden floors. It’s unnervingly silent in your home–– the tea kettle coming to a boil being the only source of noise. You keep unlocking and re-locking your phone, finally deciding to call your husband to see how he’s spending his day. It goes to automatic voicemail.

You assume the reason for this must be that he’s busy filming on set and set your phone down with a sigh, standing on your tiptoes to retrieve a mug from the cabinet. You mutter a slew of curse words under your breath intended for Harry who always puts the mugs up far too high even though you tell him not to.

Right as you begin pouring the now boiling water into your teacup, the faint jingling of your front door causes you to startle so badly that you nearly drop the kettle on the ground. You try to think back to everything Harry ever told you to do in the event of an intruder but your mind goes blank from fright. Deciding to use the scalding water as your weapon, you slowly creep towards the door, your only plan being to fling the water on whoever it was as soon as they got the door open. As soon as you hear the lock click, you flick the lid open that covers the spout and draw your arm back.

“Shit––”

“Harry?”

Your husband jumps slightly, his eyes blinking rapidly in an effort to adjust to the dark living room. You reach beside him and quickly turn on the light, shakily letting out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. He looks exhausted, his hair is an absolute mess, and his eyes are red from sleep deprivation–– but he’s home. You set the tea kettle down on the coffee table and fling yourself into his arms, breathing in the scent of the man you haven’t seen in a month. He drops his bags at his feet so he can properly embrace you, pulling you into him.

“Merry Christmas, darling,” he presses a kiss to the top of your head and stays like that for a moment saying nothing, just breathing you in. “Missed ya so fuckin’ much.

“How? I thought…” you trail off. “You said that they said…”

Harry laughs quietly. “Remember what I told ya? I said to ‘em, ‘Don’t give a fuck about your travel restrictions! M’wife wants me home.’” You laugh at him, knowing he was far too kind to talk to anyone that way. 

“Yeah, okay,” you reply sarcastically. You pull him in for another hug, placing wet kisses along his jawline. “I’m so happy you’re home. The kids are gonna be over the moon, especially Allison.” Harry hums, surveying the room.

“Looks like you did a good job in here, Mrs. Claus. See ya even assembled some toys all by yourself,” he quirks an eyebrow. “Were you jus’ pretendin’ not to know how to do it all these years so I’d be stuck with all the hard labor?”

“Maybe.”

He pulls you back into him, tickling your sides. “My sneaky girl,” he bends down so his lips are level with your neck and sucks gently, causing you to let out a quiet moan. You see his eyes land on the tea kettle that was sitting forgotten on the coffee table. “Making a cuppa? Can I have one? ‘M freezin’.”

“I can think of something else we can do to get you warmed up,” you reach for his hands, interlocking his fingers with yours. “If you know what I’m gettin’ at.”

“Hmm…” Harry releases one of his hands from your grip and taps at his chin, pretending to be deep in thought. “Not too sure I can say I know what you’re sayin’. Maybe you should just tell me?”

You frown. “You’re really gonna make me say it, huh?”

“Y’know I’d give you the entire world if you asked me for it. All you gotta do is tell me what you want from me and it’s yours–– ‘m sure you’ve known that since the first day we met, though.” Harry takes a step back, crossing his arms across his chest. Even in his thick winter coat, you can see the way his biceps flex, and it makes you even more feral for him.

“Fine,” you say quietly, feeling yourself start to grow shy under his intense gaze. “I’m kinda... in the mood.” You say it so softly that it would most likely be inaudible to Harry if he wasn’t standing mere inches away from you. Harry throws his head back in laughter and you quickly shush him, not wanting any of your children to wake up.

“In the mood? C’mon, pet,” he uncrosses his arms and reaches for one of your hands. “Tha’s not tellin’ me what you want from me. Tell me exactly what you want, lovie.”

“You know what I want, H,” you tell him with a hint of annoyance in your voice. “It’s been a month. Yanno I want you to fuck me, why are you makin’ me say it?”

Harry gives you a shit-eating grin. “You jus’ said it. I didn’t make you say anything.”

You roll your eyes at his immaturity, already in the process of lifting your nightshirt (one of his old t-shirts that’s become just a little too tight on him) over your head. “Are we gonna get to it or not? Because if not, I’ll just go back to makin’ myself some tea and call it a night––”

Harry takes half a step towards you and reaches up to cup your face, colliding his lips with yours. His lips are a little chapped and taste of his favorite rose lip balm. You feel your body relaxing into the kiss, knees going weak as he walks you back onto the couch.

“You’ve been eatin’ up all the sugar cookies, haven’t you? Can taste it on ya. Thought those were for Santa,” he’s pulled away from you to examine your face. “A bit naughty of you, wouldn’t ya say?”

“Please stop referring to yourself as Santa when we’re about to have sex, Harry.”

“You’re not bein’ very kind to the person that’s about to go down on you, are you?” He sucks harshly on the valley between your breasts, wanting to be sure a deep-colored bruise will appear on your skin later. “That’s okay. It is Christmas, after all. ‘M in a giving mood.”

“Stop talking and get to it then.”

Harry slides off the couch and onto his knees in between your legs, gently kissing your thighs. “Cute pair of undies–– s’like you knew I was comin’ home tonight.” Before you can respond Harry’s fingers are tugging at the waistband of your underwear, eager to get them off of you. He presses light kisses to your core, mumbling about how much he missed the smell of you and how sweet you tasted. 

One hand is resting across your stomach while the other one is in between your folds, spreading you open. You try squeezing your thighs around his head, overwhelmed by the feeling of your husband’s lips around your clit after being away from him for so long, but he removes his hand from your stomach and pushes your thighs back apart.

“Feels so good,” you’re breathless, tangling your fingers in Harry’s hair as his hollowed cheeks begin to suck more roughly on your clit. “Missed you so much. Missed this–– us.” 

Harry pauses momentarily to look up at you. “I know, angel. God, do I know.” He attaches his lips back on you, swirling his tongue around your clit as you  choke back your moans. The hand that is holding you open moves down to toy at your slit as he wordlessly checks to see if you’re okay with his fingers being in you. 

“Please,” you say softly, encouraging his next move. He spits on his index and pointer finger before slowly sliding both of them in you, immediately curling them up. “Oh, Harry. Fuckin’ love when you do tha’...”

“Know you do,” His response is curt, simple. He’s focused on the task at hand–– getting you off. He uses the hand that’s lying across your stomach to rub tight circles on your clit, sensing you’re nearing your orgasm from the way you’re starting to clench around him. “Such a good girl fo’ me, darlin’. Gonna make a mess on my fingers in a second, aren’t you?”

You nod as you try to control your breathing and the loudness of your moans. The last thing you wanted was for your daughter to come down to inspect the source of the noise. “Fuck, Harry.” 

“Come on, darlin’,” he gently pinches your clit, causing your body to jolt at the sensation. “Gimme a good one. A lil’ welcome back gift for me, hmm?” 

Your hips are bucking up to the rhythm of his fingers slipping in and out of you as your orgasm quickly approaches. “Har, I’m close…” it comes out sounding more like a warning than a statement. He moves the two fingers he has inside of you in a back and forth motion, coaxing your first orgasm out of you.

“Tha’s my girl,” he whispers, not stopping his movements even as your back arches as your first orgasm rolls over you like a giant wave. “Givin’ me a good one jus’ like I knew you would. Jus’ like you always do. M’ sweet girl.” As you’re starting to still, Harry pulls his fingers out of you and holds them up to your mouth, instructing you to suck them clean. 

You prop yourself up on your elbows so you can properly lean in to steal a kiss from him and notice a rather sizable tent has formed in his pants. Harry gives you a sheepish grin as he palms himself, hissing from the feel of his palm against his cock.

“Want me to do somethin’ about that?” You scoot over on the couch and pat the spot next to you, signaling for your husband to sit beside you. He lifts himself from his seated position, stretching his legs out a bit before plopping down beside you.

“Are you offerin’ me a blowie?”

“I mean, yeah?”

“Can we skip that an’ you can jus’ ride me instead? Think I’d quite like that.”

“Oh you would, would ya?”

Harry nods and unzips his pants, taking himself out. He licks his hand and gives himself a few pumps. “Still on birth control, I’m assuming?”

You roll your eyes as you move to straddle him. “Only been gone for a month, Harry. Of course ‘m still on it, you goof.”

“Can never be too careful. I don’t think now’s a good time for another lil’ one, do you? Think we should at least celebrate Oliver’s first birthday before we try for another one.” His hands are on his hips as he lines you up over his cock, helping you slowly sink down. You missed the burn of him which was even more intense than it usually was considering it’s been a while since he’s taken you.

“I think you’re right,” you reply. You rest your head on his shoulder while you adjust to the size of him, needing to take a moment to yourself before attempting to move. After a short adjustment period you begin rolling your hips, grinding against him in a way that was also bringing pleasure to your clit, still swollen and sensitive from your last orgasm.

Harry’s eyes are fixated on the way your breasts bounce in front of him, the way your stomach slightly jiggles each time you crash back down onto him. His lips are caught in between his teeth; you’re hoping he doesn’t break any skin so you don’t have to hear him whine about how badly the bruise hurts him later.

“Ridin’ me like your life depends on it,” Harry mutters. “Fuckin’ love takin’ you like this, angel. So fuckin’ deep.”

You simply hum in agreement, brain far too foggy to form a coherent sentence. Harry notices your movements starting to become smaller, lazier, so he puts his hands on your hips and decides to take over. He’s thrusting up into you like you’ll up and run away from him if he doesn’t give it his all. He cups your face with one hand and gently guides you towards him, pressing open-mouthed kisses against your lips.

“Fuck, H,” your eyes are squeezed shut and your wrap your arms around his neck, feeling your second orgasm quickly approaching. “Rub my clit please, almost there.”

Harry’s fingers immediately come down to rub at your slick nub, not faltering his relentless pace in the slightest. “Clench around me again, lovie,” his voice is higher than usual, whiny, and you know your husband is just as close as you are. “Love when you do tha’, jus’ need you to do it one more time.”

You do as he wishes once more, knowing once he cums you’ll be directly behind him. Harry lets out a string of expletives as he releases inside of you, pulling you tightly against his chest as he rides out his orgasm. You continue riding him, not slowly down as you chase your own release next.

“Harry,” you’re in a trance-like state, chanting his name over and over as you bring yourself over the edge. “Harry, fuck!”

“That’s my good girl,” he says quietly, rubbing your back as you rest your head on his shoulder while you catch your breath. You feel him beginning to soften inside of you so you lift yourself off and lay back on the couch, legs still shaking. It’s quiet for a couple of minutes as the two of you reveal in the afterglow of your orgasms, Harry gently running his fingers along your leg.

“Round two in the shower?”

December 25th, 6:42 AM

“Mumma! Santa came and he left lots of toys–– Daddy?”

Harry lets out a dramatic “oof!” as Ally jumps onto him, pulling the covers back. Her eyes are wide and she giggles are Harry pulls her into one of his infamous bear hugs, placing kisses all over his face.

“Mornin’, love bug! What’re you doin’ up so early?”

“It’s Christmas, Daddy! Santa came!” she sits back on her feet, a confused look on her face. “Did Santa bring you on his sleigh last night after me ‘n Olly went to bed?”

“Y’know what? He told me to keep it a secret, but he did,” Allison gasps in response to his news as she processes it, placing a little hand over her mouth. Harry sits up and gets out of bed, scooping her up in the process. “How ‘bout we go make Mum a cuppa before we see what Santa got for you and Olly? Tha’ sound good? Let’s let them sleep for a while longer, hmm?”

As you hear them exit the room you take a second to reflect on how lucky you are to spend another Christmas with you beautiful family before drifting back off into a deep, albeit short, sleep.

[dxrkfantasyy]

"I love you Tate Langdon!” Pre death Tate!

A/N: Hey so this will be my first story on here! I’m sorry if it’s gonna be so bad lmao. I’m horrible at writing. I always write what comes into my mind so i promise, it will be bad. Anyways i’m doing this cause i’m bored lmao. And please don’t judge lmao.

Warnings: None, just fluff and horrible writing lmao.

It was a snowy Thursday night. You and Tate were sat beside the fireplace drinking hot chocolate. Tate looks over at you. "Hey Y/N!” Tate says. "Yes?” you look over at him. "Wanna go outside?” he asks. "Tate, it’s cold outside” you laugh. "So? I wanna make a snowman and have a snow ball fight!” He smiles. "You’re such a child” you laugh. "Okay come on then!” You both sit up and put your jackets on. "Race you!” You say. You and Tate both race each other. You win and Tate pushes you in a playful way "How dare you win!” You both laugh.

You make a snowball and you throw it off of Tate’s back. "Hey!” He turns around. You both giggle and you guys start having a snowball fight. Tate then walks over to you and he pushes you to the ground. "That’s very rude Mr Langdon!” you say giggling. "Yeah.. what you gonna do about it?” Tate laughs. You stand up and you attempt to push Tate to the ground but he grabs you by the waist and he pulls you close to him. "Hah you failed!” Tate laughs and you roll your eyes. He holds you close to him and the snow starts to fall down. He then starts to lean in and you do too. You both kiss each other. "So romantic!” You say laughing and Tate smiles.

"Do you want to make a snowman?” You ask Tate. "Of course!”. Tate makes the bottom of the snowman and you make the middle of it. "Let’s make the tallest snowman ever!” Tate says. "I don’t think that we will manage that” You laugh. You both put the bottom and the middle of the snowman together. "You go make the top part and i’ll try find some rocks and i’ll get a carrot!” You say to Tate and he nods.

You finally come back with some rocks and a carrot. "Wow you took long” Tate jokes and you roll your eyes laughing. You hand him some rocks and you both make the eyes and mouth. "Should we make him smile or frown?” Tate asks. "Smile of course!” You giggle. “Want to do the carrot?” Tate asks you. "Let’s do it together!” You smile. You both put the carrot on together and you both admire the snowman. "Wait! we forgot to do the 3 rocks that go on the body” You say. "Oh yeah! i’ll go get them since you got them last time!” Tate says and you nod.

While Tate goes to find some rocks you draw a heart with the snow on the ground and you write in the heart "Tate + Y/N” you smile at it and Tate finally comes back. "Hey baby! did you get the rocks?” You ask. "Yes i did! Tate smiles showing you the rocks. You both put the rocks on and you both high five each other. "Look at what i done while you were getting rocks!“ you point at the heart and Tate smiles "You’re so cute Y/N Y/L/N!” Tate kisses you on the lips holding you by your waist. You kiss him back and you both break the kiss. "We should go inside now!” you say and Tate nods. He holds your hand and you both walk into the house. You both warm each other up and then you both sit on the couch. "Wanna put on a movie?” you ask Tate. "Sure! which one?” He asks you. "Hmm.. how about home alone?” You ask and he nods. Tate puts it on and he covers you both with a blanket. He puts his arm around you and you lay your head on his chest. "I love you Tate Langdon!” You say kissing his chest. "I love you too Y/N Y/L/N!!” he kisses the top of your head and you both cuddle while watching the movie.

[ashesandhalefire]

i know, you know

alex, michael, and a lonely hearts club gone slightly awry.

-

inspired by @malex-cupid day one and three themes: wooing my way into your heart and valentine’s day.

-

“Okay, here’s a nightmare scenario,” Michael says as he eases back down onto the couch with another slice of pizza in his hand. He crosses his ankles on the coffee table and bites the tip off. Alex raises an eyebrow expectantly, drawing a sip from his beer, and Michael nods. After a rough swallow, he wipes the corner of his mouth with his thumb. “I once hooked up with a girl on February thirteenth. Totally lost track of the date.”

Alex rolls his eyes. “That’s not a nightmare scenario for someone like you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Michael takes another bite of his pizza and tries to talk around a mouthful of cheese, face twisted with playful indignation. “Someone like me?”

Alex leans his head against the back of the couch and says, “Charming people never end up in nightmare scenarios because they can, by default, charm their way out of anything.”

Brow furrowing, Michael wrinkles his nose. “I don’t think I’ve ever been called charming in my life. A few other choice words, sure, but not charming.”

“Well, I guess my perspective is a little different from the sheriff’s department. In my experience, you have a tendency to be very good at saying the right thing.” Alex wiggles his left foot where it sits, tucked beneath the center cushion on the couch, and rubs distractedly at his right knee. The knot in his sweatpants jostles close to Michael’s hip.

Entirely by accident, he’s significantly more dressed-down than Michael is in his slim jeans and crisply colored flannel. Neither piece of Michael’s outfit has the well-worn softness of his usual wardrobe, none of the torn seams or threadbare elbows, but the top two buttons of his shirt are undone like always and the collar hangs wide against his clavicle. Alex tries not to let his eyes linger.

As he chews through another bite, Michael stares back at him, and the gaze feels heavy enough that Alex turns away. “And, please, you’re sitting on my couch, watching my television, drinking my beer, and eating my pizza. If that’s not the direct result of charm, what is it?” 

“Dumb luck,” Michael says. Amusement glints in his eyes as he licks his lips. “Besides, this whole lonely hearts club thing was your idea.” 

“Yeah, but it was originally a party of one.”

Alex had quickly opted out, making his answer a polite but firm no, when Kyle mentioned the flier on the Crashdown’s front door that advertised the latest Wild Pony cash-grab attempt, but that hadn’t prevented him from running face-first into Isobel’s advertising efforts all over town for the next week and a half. General buzz at the post office and hospital implied that her reputation for event planning had drummed up some genuine interest from the locals, and that in and of itself cemented his plan for the weekend as pizza, beer, and whatever cable had to offer. His plan had, at no point, included running into Michael in the candy aisle at RiteAid at three o’clock in the afternoon on Valentine’s Day.

With an armful of personal care items marked with discount stickers, Michael had taken one look at the prescription envelope in Alex’s right hand and the box of chocolates in his left and said, “Got a hot date?”

“No,” Alex had said, wishing he’d chosen to put on something neater than his faded sweatpants. Michael rarely looked presentable by general standards, but he always looked good. “Just chronic pain and a sweet tooth.”

“You should come back tomorrow,” Michael had suggested. “Better sales after the holiday.”

“True, but then I won’t have anything to eat tonight.”

Michael had visibly perked, even though his face stayed neutral. “You’re not going to the singles night thing at the Pony? I thought Valenti would have roped you in for sure.”

“No.” Fleetingly, Alex had considered the idea of wandering through the crowded bar, equally decorated in distasteful neon and garish party store hearts, and trying to pick which of the Pony’s regular stock might like to have his drink bought by an openly gay veteran with one leg while his friends watch from the sidelines of their depressingly stable relationships. “There’s not enough booze in the world.”

“Yeah, I get that,” Michael had laughed. He hadn’t quite met Alex’s eye as they both carefully side-stepped the rest of the conversation. Alex had stopped paying attention, so he wasn’t sure if Michael had retaken to running up a tab yet. “Is is completely pissed at me, but I told her there was no way in hell.”

Alex had swallowed. “Got a hot date?”

“Totally,” Michael had said. He held up his hand and wiggled his fingers. “I think you’ve met him.” 

In retrospect, Alex blames the rest of the conversation on the fact that he’s been unshakably in love with Michael since he was seventeen. For the better part of a month, he’s been trying to work up the courage to throw out a line. But they exist in a strange no-man’s-land of casual acquaintanceship that borders on friendship and romance simultaneously, and Alex hasn’t quite found the right way out yet. 

“If you don’t have plans tonight, you could swing by.” Michael, already at the end of the aisle when Alex called after him, had looked mildly startled when he turned around. “We can get pizza. Or something. Whatever goes with beer.”

“Everything goes with beer in my world.”

“It’ll be a lonely hearts club type of thing,” Alex had said, primarily for the deniability. 

Michael had cocked his head. His eyes drifted lower and lower until they paused and climbed back up Alex’s body at a crawl. “Are you lonely?”

“I had a nose ring, remember?” Alex had clutched the prescription bag in his fist with a crunch and forced himself to laugh, even as bashful panic squeezed at his throat. “You don’t end up with a nose ring and Danger posters on your walls at seventeen unless you’re deeply lonely.”

A slow smile had stretched across Michael’s face, and he ducked his head like it was too private to share with the open aisle. When he looked up again, he wrinkled his nose to help steady his armful of bottles with a nudge of his telekinesis. “I’ll see you at six, then. Pizza and beer.”

Now, Michael breaks a wayward string of cheese away from his last bite and asks, “You want me to go home? Leave you to your pity party?” 

“No. I’m enjoying the company. I think it’s because you’re so charming.”

Michael laughs. “You’re so full of shit.”

“Fine, don’t believe me. But hooking up with a girl who was looking for a hookup on the day before Valentine’s Day is not a nightmare scenario.”

“Alright,” Michael says, nudging Alex’s bent knee, “so give me a better example.”

“Uh, pizza and beer with a guy that never learned how to chew with his mouth closed?”

Michael tears into the crust of his slice and says, muffled by food, “I’ll leave anytime. Just say the word.”

Alex pulls his foot out from under the couch cushion and rolls his heel into the side of Michael’s thigh. “Don’t be disgusting!”

Mashing his teeth, Michael chews with his mouth open for another two bites and then relents. He drops a hot palm into the exposed skin of Alex’s ankle, holding it in place, and Alex manages not to react until Michael strokes his thumb into the hollow beside his Achilles tendon. 

“I need a refill. Do you want another beer?” he asks, pulling his leg away and turning to plant his foot on the floor. He bends down to grope beneath the couch for his crutch. 

“Yeah, I’ll take another one.” Michael stands, taking his empty bottle in hand, and says, “I’ll get it. I know my way around the fridge.”

As he shuffles between the couch and the coffee table, he drops a hand onto Alex’s left shoulder and squeezes. The touch is gone almost as soon as it starts, but Alex still lets out an audible squeak on his next exhale. 

Being touch-starved is hardly new, but it makes him feel like an especially pathetic rescue cat when his body shivers at the barest graze. Twice it happened when Kyle leaned over to look at his laptop and put a hand on his back while they worked on the salvaged hard drives together, and Alex had barely been able to hide the heated flush in his cheeks. It’s more humiliating with Michael, somehow, because Michael has always been exactly the same. He’s always turned into Alex’s touch with eagerness, always looked for the most contact he could find. Something about touch between them turning casual and unaffecting on his end while Alex is gasping like an Austen heroine is especially unsettling.

He takes three deep breaths, holding the air in his chest and releasing through pursed lips, and then Michael squeezes between the end table and the chair with two beers. He twists the tops off with a twitch of his nose, and Alex watches the bent metal land on the coffee table with a ding. 

“Show off,” he says as Michael hands him a bottle. Their fingers brush against the glass. “You’ve never fought with a jar of pasta sauce in your life.”

Michael eases back down onto the couch, snagging the last garlic knot from the crimped tinfoil on the coffee table on the way, and says, “Rubber band trick works wonders. Not that I’ve ever needed it.” 

“Smug bastard.”

Alex watches the bob of Michael's throat as he takes a long draw from his beer. 

“Oh, here. Almost forgot.” Michael pops the rest of the garlic knot into his mouth and lifts his hips off the couch to give himself room to root around his pocket. After a moment of tugging, he tosses something across the couch. It lands on Alex’s thigh. “For your sweet tooth.”

Alex stares down at the packet of SweeTARTS heart candies, emblazoned with the same sentimental phrases as classic conversation hearts. “These are sour.”

“Well, yeah, but aren’t those the ones you like?”

Fingers toying with the crimped edges of the paper wrapping, Alex nods. 

“Then Happy Valentine’s Day.” Michael sucks a spot of oil and garlic from his thumb. “I had to go to, like, four different CVS stores to find them.”

“Thank you,” Alex says. “You didn’t— I didn’t get you anything.”

Michael shrugs. “You paid for dinner. Least I could do was pick up some candy.” 

-

-

Darkness creeps up on them while they trade sarcastic commentary about the fake detective comedy marathon they found on a higher cable channel. The lone bulb still on over the sink casts a warm yellow glow across the kitchen and dining room, and the living room flickers between dark and light as the scenes change on the television. 

Alex glances down at Michael, who has made himself comfortable with one leg dangling off the edge of the couch and the other curled up against the arm. His head rests on a pillow that he laid atop Alex’s right leg, and he has Alex’s left leg stretched out in front of his chest to keep it from blocking his view.

The shift was gradual: he slumped sideways and curled his legs up; he leaned on his elbow and tried to stretch out; he whined about his neck and grabbed the pillow off the floor, checking that it wouldn’t bother Alex’s knee if he put pressure on it; and he grabbed Alex’s left leg by the ankle to straighten it out while complaining that he couldn’t see. And now Alex’s shin is pinned beneath Michael’s palm, feeling the rise and fall of Michael’s chest whenever he chuckles at one of the jokes. 

They’ve spent hours together, rolling around in Michael’s cot and the back of his truck and motel beds, but Alex isn’t sure they’ve ever been more intimate. Quiet stillness has always been difficult for them to come by, and he can barely remember the last time they spent an afternoon together without some sense of doom hanging over their heads. They’ve certainly never laid on a couch together for four hours. 

Michael shifts, rolling onto his side, and his hand drifts down towards the top of Alex’s foot. The calluses on his palm catch against the weave of his sock, and Alex listens to the faint scratch of material without breathing. After a moment, Michael’s fingers slip beneath the elastic at the bottom of his sweatpants, and he strokes absently at the ball of Alex’s ankle. 

The fears and the doubts are as present as they’ve been for the last few weeks. All of their baggage is exactly the same. 

Alex winds one of Michael’s curls around his finger, and he feels the stutter in his breathing. 

With empirical evidence like that, he has to be brave. 

He mutes the television and says, “I don’t have to work tomorrow.”

“Okay.” Michael glances up. “Is this…new information? Should we be celebrating?”

“No, I mean—” Alex swallows. “I don’t have to go out tomorrow, so if you stay over afterwards, we can talk.”

Michael stares at him. “After what?”

Alex shrugs, but his eyes linger pointedly on Michael’s mouth. 

“Oh,” Michael says. He turns onto his stomach slowly, like he thinks moving too quickly will turn Alex skittish, and then he eases up onto his knees between Alex's legs. Carefully, he pushes the pillow on Alex’s lap out of the way and onto the floor. “Yeah. Yeah, I could stay over. Afterwards.”

Light from the silent television flickers against the side of his face, and Alex reaches for the loose collars of his shirt. Michael bends pliantly, anchoring his hands beside Alex’s shoulders on the arm of the couch, and lowers himself until their noses brush. Then, he hesitates. He nuzzles against Alex’s cheek, rolls their foreheads together, and sighs out a laugh. 

Alex giggles back, a nervous sound he has no control over, and asks, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Nothing. I just— I don’t wanna screw up. This has been a no-fly zone for weeks.”

“It really hasn’t.”

“It really has. I have the bruised ego to prove it.”

A missing piece slots into place in Alex’s chest, loosening every ounce of tension left in his body, and he sags down against the couch cushions. He takes a moment to look up at Michael, at the vulnerable pinch of anxiety that crinkles the corners of his eyes, and then he reaches up to smooth his thumb over the crest of Michael’s cheeks. The wrinkles worsen, so he tows Michael in by his hips and shakes his head. “No. No, you’re— you’re cleared to land.”

“That’s not— ” Michael blinks, and then says, affectionately, “Oh, fuck you.”

He laughs, deep in his chest, and finally presses his mouth to Alex’s. Alex surges into the kiss, letting it linger until the smile splitting across his lips forces Michael to pull back. He tries again, but Alex can’t relax his grin, so, for a moment, they just breathe, silhouetted in the dark. 

Then, Michael says, “No regretting it tomorrow?” 

Alex shakes his head. “No.”

“No nightmare scenario? No backslide with my ex?”

“No.”

“No… I scratched my itch, now get out of my house?”

“No!”

“Okay, good. Good. Because I’m playing for keeps this time.” He settles his weight between Alex’s thighs, and Alex is struck suddenly with the realization of how easy it is to be happy, how earned it feels after all this time.

They kiss, lazy and unhurried, until the cable box starts to idle in the background and leaves them in a nearly pitch black room. The last three buttons of Michael’s shirt come undone under Alex’s fingertips, and Michael’s unshaved jaw scrapes his mouth almost raw.

“Next year,” he mumbles against Alex’s cheek in a moment of reprieve, “I’m gonna fill this house with roses.”

Distractedly, Alex hooks his heel around the back of Michael’s calf and says, “If you somehow have a quarter of a million dollars to waste on that many flowers next year, we will not still be living in this house.”

Michael’s whole body jolts.

“We?” he teases gleefully, and he digs his fingertips into the soft back of Alex’s knee. “Did you just forget we don’t have a joint bank account? Oh, fuck, you really do like me.”

A hot flush rises in Alex’s cheeks as he squirms. “I like your fake money.”

“I think you mean our fake money.”

Alex laughs. “I fucking hate you.” He turns away, and Michael bends down to kiss the exposed line of his neck. 

“You don’t,” he says between nips. “You really don’t.”

“No,” Alex agrees. “I really don’t.”

[eddieeatsass]

If you’re accepting prompts can I get a small smutty Bichie one shot? Preferably including a lollipop and Bill with an oral fixation

I clearly don't know the definition of "small"... so here's 4k words instead uhhhhhhI'msosorry please enjoy this debauchery

Read over on AO3 or under the cut ♡

A lollipop is simply a lollipop until you give it to Bill Denbrough; when in his clutches it becomes a weapon of arousal. It would be fundamentally impossible to see Bill sucking on a lollipop and not pop a boner. Well, maybe it would be possible if you didn't have a dick, and oh what Richie would give to be in that category right now.

The thing is, Bill always seemed to have something in his mouth. He was a chronic nail biter, went through two packs of gum a day, was known to bum a cigarette off Bev every once in a while, and Richie's pretty sure he even caught him sucking his thumb one time at a sleepover.

But lollipops were by far the worst.

"My mom is gonna kill me."

Richie was snapped out of his hyper fixation, his attention pulled back into the conversation as Eddie voiced his newest worry.

"You can borrow one of my shirts if we stop by my place on the way back." Stanley offered, eyeing the big brown stain that now interrupted the pink of Eddie's sweater.

"She'll notice if I'm wearing a different shirt." Eddie objected, scrubbing at the spot with a napkin.

"We can throw yours in the wash and you'll be wearing it again by the time you go home." Beverly suggested, trying to defuse Eddie’s heightening anxiety.

"Yeah, my parents won't mind." Stan added encouragingly.

"This is the last time I ever order a chocolate shake. From now on, vanilla only." Eddie grumbled, crossing his arms stubbornly.

"Awe come on Eds, we all know you’re anything but vanilla.” Richie joked, jumping at the opportunity to think about someone else’s sex life instead of his own.

“Fuck off, Rich.” Eddie snapped back with little bite.

“It’s not a secret, we all know you’re a little freaky-”

“You’re the freak! Quit talking about my personal business!” Eddie was getting red in the face, but around him the rest of the Losers were doing little to hide their snickers. Even Bill, whose mouth pulled into a grin around that fucking lollipop.

And Richie was back to square one.

“My parents are gonna be home in a couple hours so if we want the house to ourselves, we should go now.” Stan mentioned, standing up from his spot at the corner of their booth, allowing Bill, Beverly, and Eddie to file out after him.

“So, we’re not going to the Quarry anymore?” Ben asked, sliding out of the other side of the booth and throwing an extra ten dollars on the table as a tip. He grabbed one of the complimentary lollipops that had been left with their receipt and began unwrapping it.

“We won’t have time if we want to keep Eddie alive.” Mike mentioned.

“Then perish.” Richie said, straight faced.

“We don’t all h-have to go to S-S-Stanley’s.” Bill said, drawing Richie’s attention back, once again, to his sinful mouth.

This was becoming a problem.

They ended up splitting three ways; Eddie, Stanley, and Mike went off on their attempt to save Eddie’s shirt, Ben and Beverly decided to go on to the quarry, and Richie ended up sticking with Bill after they’d both agreed that it was too hot to stick to their original plans.

Though, Richie would probably have agreed with Bill no matter what he’d decided.

They arrived at Bill’s place twenty minutes later, heaving hot breaths from their trek in the summer sun.

"You want s-s-something t-to drink?" Bill panted, toeing off his shoes at the doorway but not bothering to chastise Richie when he kept his on.

"Depends whacha got, Denbrough." Richie followed him into the kitchen, hopping up on the countertop as Bill opened the fridge.

"Coke, orange j-juice, and m-milk." Bill announced, his head hidden behind the big metal door.

"Toss me a coke." Richie decided easily, never one to pass up the opportunity for more sugar.

Bill resurfaced with two cans in hand, passing one to Richie and carrying the other across the room where he reached into the cabinet that held the straws.

"Why do you drink everything through a straw?" Richie asked, his cock giving an annoying twitch as Bill brought the straw to his lips and took a sip before answering.

"It just tastes b-better that way." Bill shrugged.

Richie could feel the joke forming in his throat before he could think better than to speak it.

"I know something else that tastes better cumming straight from the straw."

Damn his quick wit.

Bill froze, straw caught between those pretty pink lips as he stared at Richie with an unreadable expression.

"It's your penis, isn't it." Bill deadpanned.

"Yep." Richie responded, popping the 'p' at the end of his statement in sync with him hopping off the counter.

"N-not some of your best work, Rich-ch-ie." Bill teased, biting down around his straw with a flirty grin.

Richie's face flushed a violent shade of red, having to do a double take just to check that his mind hadn't hallucinated the way Bill had smiled at him. But before he could dwell on it too much, Bill retreated to the other room.

The next few hours were torture on Richie’s dick. Bill seemed to find something new to stick in his mouth every two god damn minutes. He was like a badly trained dog.

After the straw, Bill produced a box of pocky which he spent the next hour idling chewing and sucking on. When they finished off the box, he chewed on his fingernails as they watched TV. His pencil was the next victim when they decided to try and do some homework. And finally, as they abandoned their homework for video games, Bill found a toothpick, rolling it around in his mouth like he was fucking Tom Hardy.

But at least things were contained until Richie lost the game of Mario Cart and flopped back on the bed dramatically, resulting in his lollipop from earlier tumbling out of his pocket.

“You n-never ate y-y-your lollipop?” Bill noted, picking up the small, wrapped item and twirling it in his fingers.

Richie’s not sure why his throat immediately went dry.

“I sort of forgot I had it.”

Bill eyed it with interest, which interested Richie far more than it should. He cocked an eyebrow and proceeded cautiously.

“Do you want it?”

Bill’s eyes darted back to Richie’s, quickly schooling his expression as if he’d been caught.

“Only if you d-don’t.” Bill said, trying for nonchalance, but the catch in his voice betrayed him.

A long pause stretched between them, their eyes locked in an unspoken challenge.

“I’m starting to think I do, actually.” Richie responded with much more fervor than the topic demanded.

Bill watched as Richie took the lollipop from him and began unwrapping the small red sucker. The sound from their video game’s pause screen faded into the background as blood rushed past Richie’s eardrums.

Richie was vulgar, all the Losers knew that; he’d been making jokes about his dick since he first learned he had one. But this was something different. Richie wasn’t trying to be vulgar, he was trying to be… something new.

He popped the lollipop into his mouth, keeping hold of the stick so he could hollow out his cheeks and pull it back out, allowing the round candy to stretch his lips as they parted for it.

Richie continued his ministrations for another minute, keeping his eyes locked on Bill’s, whose own were locked on Richie’s mouth.

Richie, self admittedly, had no idea what he was doing. He tried to channel the pornstars he'd watched, to summon some of their sex appeal to guide him along this unfamiliar experiment. But after a moment, he realized the best person to model himself after was already sitting right in front of him.

Richie thought back to how Bill had been devouring his lollipop back at the diner, how his eyes had gone hazy, his attention far away as he moved his tongue around the sucker like it was second nature. His lips had been shiny with saliva, tinted redder than usual by the cherry flavoring.

Richie took the lollipop out of his mouth and dragged it across his lips lightly, as if he were applying lipstick. It glided easily, sticky with spit, and did the job as it left Richie with a tinted smirk.

He loosened his jaw and let it fall open, allowing his tongue to loll out to lick a stripe up the lollipop in what he hoped was a good imitation of what one would do with a cock. To be fair, Richie had never sucked a cock before, so he was blindly guessing. But it seemed to do the trick, because Bill's eyes suddenly broke from their trance, squeezing shut.

"Not f-f-fair, R-Rich..." Bill's voice was broken, mimicking something between a whine and a whisper.

"You want something to suck on, Billy?" Richie asked, surprising himself with his sure-fire tone.

Bill was still for a moment, but when he opened his eyes again, there was something new behind his blown-out black pupils. He nodded meekly, as if scared to admit anything aloud just yet.

"Well jeez, Bill. I've only got the one." Richie gestured with his lollipop, as if to prove his point. “I may have something else for you to suck on though.”

It was a poor attempt at a joke, absent of the usual air of humor that accompanied Richie’s jests. But maybe that’s because it wasn’t much of a joke at all; even though neither of them were quite ready to admit it, they could both feel the change in the air between them.

“Anything.” Bill’s voice was still quiet, but it had steadied out as if the prospect of Richie’s suggestion had sated something in him. Richie had to suppress a shiver.

Richie twisted his body to spring off the mattress, and the sudden action caused Bill to follow, moving himself to sit up on his knees and face where Richie stood at the end of the bed.

Neither of them knew how to proceed, cautious to cross the other’s boundary but excited by the new thrum in the air. Richie was the first to move.

He removed the lollipop from his mouth and place it on Bill’s nightstand before reaching forward and cupping Bill's chin, tipping his head up to lock their eyes. Moving slowly, allowing Bill time to move away if he wanted, he let the pad of his thumb gently trace the outline of rosy red lips, and Bill obediently opened under the touch. He darted his tongue out to lick at Richie's finger, wrapping around it and leading him back into his open gape. Once Richie's thumb was resting inside the warm entrance, Bill closed his lips around his knuckle, and with the most confidence Richie had ever seen on Bill, he began to suck.

It was the filthiest thing Richie had ever fucking witnessed in person, and for a moment he was sure he'd been transported to some alternate porn dimension. Bill moved like he knew exactly what he was doing. Richie wondered absently if Bill had done this before, not sucking the life out of someone's thumb, but sucking the life out of something else.

Bill's tongue licked up the sides of his finger like he was trying to catch the drips from a popsicle, and then he was biting down gently into the pad of his thumb, making Richie shiver delightfully.

He pulled off with a heave of breath before uttering four words that were enough to leave Richie speechless.

"Let me taste you." Bill begged.

Richie could have cum on the spot at the mere fact that Bill was so lust-drunk just from sucking on his finger that he didn't even stutter. But if he did, he'd miss out on probably the best blowjob of his life (the only blowjob of his life, thus far), so he had to keep it together.

Now, let it be known that Richie isn't proud of how quickly he whipped out his dick. There was no grace, no sensual teasing or tantalizing movements; it was all fumbling fingers and uncoordinated shimmies as he struggled to get his dick to hit the air before Bill somehow decided to change his mind.

"Uh... Taa-daaaaa." Richie pointed in the direction of his erection with two unsure hands, an awkward moment passing until Richie glanced upwards.

Bill wore an amused smirk when Richie reverted his attention back to him. It was endearing, but Richie already missed the blissed out, desperate expression he'd had not mere seconds ago.

So, Richie decided he would just have to do better. If he wanted to wipe that smirk off Bill’s face, he’d have to step up. No more awkwardness or unsure movements, Richie needed to take control.

Besides, his life moto was "fake it 'till you make it", why couldn't it apply here as well?

Richie willed his hand to stop shaking before he reached out and carded his fingers through familiar auburn locks, pushing them off Bill's forehead and holding them back with a firm grip. That same grip allowed him to pull Bill's head forward, leading him until he was right in front of Richie's cock.

That look that Richie was chasing slowly began to filter back in. Bill's eyes glazed over as he gazed down at the leaking head being offered to him, his jaw going slack as he opened his mouth and stuck out his tongue, and finally his whole body followed as it slumped forward with the first lick to Richie's head.

Richie felt drunk, his own head swimming with arousal and a lack of blood flow. Bill looked so good like this; Richie wasn't sure he would ever recover from the image.

But if looks alone were enough to kill, the feeling of Bill's mouth must have summoned him back from the afterlife just to murder him a second time.

When this was all over and Richie had had his brains blown out of him, literally, he was gonna have a lot of questions for Bill. Mainly, had he done this before, and if not, then where the hell had he learned to do that thing with his tongue.

It wasn't long before Bill ceased his lapping and moved to take Richie into his mouth in full. Richie wasn't one to brag (a lie he told himself) but he could physically see the strain on Bill's jaw as it struggled to open wide enough to take his whole cock. Though, if Richie were being honest with himself, it probably had more to do with the size of Bill's mouth than the size of Richie's appendage. But for the moment he allowed himself the ego-boost.

"Bill, jesus fuck, that feels good..." Richie's own voice came out unfamiliar to him, wavering far more than he'd have liked. He cleared his throat and tried again.

"You've always looked good with something between your lips, but fuck, it's like you were made for this."

Bill disconnected from Richie's cock with a wet slurp and Richie had to swallow down the noise his body tried to make in response.

"S-s-so you w-were staring at the d-diner earlier." Bill's gaze was mischievous, as if he'd caught Richie in a lie and now he'd earned himself a prize.

"I'm pretty sure everyone was staring, Billy. You were basically fellatio-ing the damn lollipop."

"F-fellatio-ing isn't a word R-Richie."

"I'm the one getting fellatio'd right now, I think I'd know."

"Well, you won't be for m-m-much longer i-if you keep making up w-w-words."

"How do I shut you up? Where's your off button."

Bill glanced down at the cock still held in his hand, and then slowly raked his eyes back up Richie's form. The implication was clear, and Richie was more than happy to oblige.

Richie replaced Bill's hand with his own, his other flying back into Bill's hair to pull him closer. He led Bill back to the head of his cock, taking a moment to paint his lips with the pre-cum that had pearled at the slit. Bill's lips felt like velvet as he rubbed himself against them, but it wasn't nearly enough.

“Open.” Richie commanded, honestly surprised when he was met with obedience instead of a snarky remark. It made his cock twitch as it entered Bill’s mouth.

No more accurate definition of euphoria came to mind as Richie sunk into the heat of Bill’s mouth, shuddering as every inch of his cock was enveloped. Bill kept his eyes squeezed shut as he willed his jaw to take everything Richie was giving him.

When Richie felt the head of his cock reach resistance, he still had about half of his shaft exposed. There was nowhere else to go unless Richie was going to start feeding it down Bill’s throat, and while that thought did make a new rush of arousal flood his body, he didn’t think now would be the best time to try it.

At the pause in movement, Bill opened his eyes, blinking away tears that had gathered along his eyelashes. Richie could see the cogs turning in Bill’s head as he assessed the situation in front of him in the same way Bill problem solved every roadblock he encountered: with reckless determination.

Bill tried to move himself forward, quickly realizing his mistake as his gag reflex kicked in. The resulting noise was so much hotter than it had any right to be, and Richie had to physically hold himself back from trying to trigger it again.

In stubborn acceptance, Bill brought his hand up to circle around the rest of the shaft he couldn’t fit inside his mouth. Richie loosened his grip on Bill’s hair to allow him to move however he needed, and instantly Bill’s head began bobbing in tandem with small twists of his wrist.

“Holy shit, ahhhhh- what the fuck D-Denbrough.” Richie’s words spilled out in a rush, tripping over themselves with a quiver.

Bill pulled back until only the crown of Richie’s cock laid between his lips, setting his tongue to work at the slit as if he could coax out more of Richie’s pre-cum just like that. When Richie’s thighs began to quake, Bill tilted his head and moved ever so slightly so his tongue could lap at the soft tissue that connected Richie’s head to the rest of his cock.

Richie released a sound that would have been embarrassing in any other circumstance, high-pitched and needy in tone. It only seemed to make Bill move faster.

Bill moved back down the shaft, running his tongue along what he could reach, his hand working the rest. He began picking up pace, flitting his eyes open and gazing up at Richie with pure lust-blown pupils.

Richie had a flashback to earlier that day, watching Bill suck on his lollipop with poorly feigned innocence, juxtaposed with the debauched expression he wore now. There was no fooling anyone, Bill wanted this. He needed this. He’d probably needed it for a long time, and that thought spurred Richie on.

“You wanna taste me, huh?” Richie began thrusting in time with Bill, punching a pleasured moan out of him. He chanced a glance down at Bill’s lap for the first time since they’d begun fooling around and noticed the bulge straining to escape his jeans. It gave Richie even more satisfaction to know Bill was deriving just as much pleasure from this as he was.

“Bet I taste better than that fucking lollipop, ahhh, fuck-” Richie’s thrusts were getting unsteady. He could see drool escaping the corners of Bill’s mouth as he struggled to keep up with Richie’s pace.

Richie was getting close, the warmth in his belly coming to a boil as the heat around him become too much to bear. Richie pulled his shirt up, holding it bunched to his chest so he would have a better view of Bill’s face as he swallowed Richie’s cum.

That thought is what finally pushed Richie over the edge, screaming out a delayed warning that did neither of them much good as Richie’s cock was already emptying into Bill’s mouth.

Thankfully, Bill didn’t seem to mind the lack of a warning, doubling his efforts to suck Richie through his orgasm, taking more of him in than he had been able to before.

Reckless determination.

Richie was squeezing his eyes so tight that stars began to illuminate the black sky behind his lids. A fuzzy feeling accompanied them, starting in his head and spreading through his limbs. It mixed with the overwhelming pleasure in each of his nerve endings, dizzying him with overwhelming sensations, and then there was nothing.

Richie thinks he must have blacked out for a second because suddenly he’s splayed across Bill's bed, staring up at the ceiling. His fingertips were still tingling, and his throat was dry and hoarse, but those were the only indications that what just happened hadn't just been a dream.

Richie propped himself up on his elbows, looking around the room in an attempt to piece things together. Bill was nowhere to be found, which made Richie entertain the dream idea even more. He could have fallen asleep on Bill’s bed, had a wet dream inspired by Bill's casual affair with lollipops… he probably moaned in his sleep and scared Bill off, even.

“Drink.”

Richie nearly jumped out of his skin as Bill suddenly appeared beside him.

“Holy fuck, Casper! Warn a guy!”

A cup of water was thrust into Richie’s hands, and without having to think much about it he brought it to his lips and downed a generous amount. His throat thanked him immediately.

“What were you m-m-mutt-ttering about?” Bill asked, hopping on to the bed beside Richie and causing the mattress to wobble them both slightly.

“I was just… trying to figure something out…” Richie raked his eyes up and down Bill’s form, trying to find any sign that he’d actually had Richie’s cock down his throat not even five minutes ago, but the boy looked as kempt as usual.

“Okay, w-well once you figure it out, can y-y-you put your dick b-back in your pants? Georgie is gonna b-be home soon.”

Richie blanched, moving comically slow as he looked down at his lap, revealing that his dick was, as stated, very much not in its confines.

Bill shifted beside him, and it was enough to shake Richie out of his ‘holy shit that actually happened it wasn’t just a dream bill denbrough is a fucking dick sucking god’ epiphany.

Once he was all tucked back in and had finished the glass of water Bill had generously (and forcefully) provided, he finally allowed himself to look at his friend again.

Bill was already watching him, a gentle smile playing on his features as he rolled the lollipop from earlier around in his mouth.

“You’re fucking insatiable, you know that?” Richie’s heart was thrumming in his chest, unanswered questions clawing to get out. But before he had a chance to ask them, Bill removed the candy from his mouth just long enough to lean forward and capture Richie’s lips in a kiss.

It was a little shy, a little tender; the complete opposite from the way Bill’s mouth worked itself along his cock. Richie decided that he liked it that way.

When Bill pulled back, they were both red enough to rival the lollipop in Bill’s hand, which he wasted no time in replacing between his lips.

“By th-the w-way,” Bill began, settling into Richie’s side and reaching for his controller to unpause their game. “You d-don’t taste better th-th-than a lollipop.” That playful smile was back on Bill’s lips.

“I guess I can’t compete with artificial cherry flavor.” Richie conceded, following Bill’s lead and retrieving his own controller.

“I still like you b-better.” Bill stated with so much certainty that Richie felt his whole world solidify.

[alreadyblondenow]

Water Bugs 

▸ Taeil x reader  ▸ 1.7k words  ▸ Smut, Fluff  ▸ Swearing, skinny dipping, unprotected sex, a lot of kissing, inspired by my favorite scene from the movie The Vow ▸ Requested and part of B’s giving back event,  Ho Ho Ho?! See anon request message at the end of this drabble.

Singles night out. A mandatory celebration for Taeil, Jaehyun, and Johnny for being single over the years. It’s not that they chose not to date, they haven’t found their special someone yet. So every after Christmas, they meet at the town Starbucks and exchange gifts with each other. But this year, the snow was incredibly a pain in the ass so Johnny and Jaehyun ditched Taeil for the first time after five years. He was sad of course, but he totally understood the situation.

When he was about to leave the crowded Starbucks, he saw a figure standing awkwardly in front of his table. “Hi, are you just about to leave? I was wondering if I can sit here, everywhere else is full” you said, carrying your tray with two hot cinnamon buns and a cup of hot chocolate.

Taeil was completely mesmerized by your beauty, and he can feel his heartbeat so fast that he forgot he was about to leave. Is this what they called love at first sight? He was cold before you came in, but when he saw you, it’s like your warmth hugged him from where you’re standing and he’s blushing so bad. “You must be new here, you don’t know that this Starbucks is always full?- Oh please, sit. My friends aren’t coming” Taeil smiles, happy to have company.

“Yes, I just moved in for my work. Are you from around here?” you sat down and took a sip from your drink as you wait for his answer, then you remember, “How rude of me- I’m Y/n, by the way,” you offered your hand for him to shake.

“Taeil” you two shake hands and exchange sweet smiles, “and yes I’m from here” he added.

Maybe Jaehyun and Johnny didn’t make it for a reason, Taeil thought. Maybe you are the beautiful ending note of this singles night out. After exchanging names, you and Taeil talked and talked until you found out that he is an actual gentleman who sings oh so good and is single. Then two cups of hot chocolates ago, you two are exchanging numbers, waving goodbye to each other under the snow, with a promise of seeing each other again the day after tomorrow for a planned dinner date.

Everything happened so fast in one week. The first date was soon followed by a second date, ice skating under the stars, buying late Christmas gifts for each other, movie nights, walking hand in hand under the snow, warming each other by a heated kiss or make-out session. Taeil is like a hidden adventure in this unknown town you just moved in and you are more than happy that you met him in that awful crowded Starbucks.

“They will love you,” he says, trying to ease your nervousness. Every year, Taeil’s family is hosting a new year’s eve party for close friends, family, and neighbors. And this year, he is proudly bringing you and letting everyone know that he finally has someone special.

And Taeil was right, everyone adored you even the kids. Not to mention that you are actually having a good time because his family is as goofy as he is and everyone is excited about the new year. While you were talking to his cousins, Taeil swiftly snatched you from them, brought you to his car, and drove away.

“Where are we going? It’s almost countdown” you were hand in hand while he was driving, kissing your cold hand and not answering your question. When he finally stopped the car, it was pitch black, and all you can see is a lake and the moon shining brightly.

“I just brought you to the best view for the fireworks,” he says. Your eyes widened in shock when you saw him stripping and removing his clothes. “My grandfather told me to bring you here because he believes that this lake brought good luck to his relationship with grandma and that they grew old together because they swam here once a year” he wasn’t shy, so you don’t have any reason to be shy too. And the thought of Taeil planning to be with you for the longest of time is something so romantic and enough push to remove your clothes too.

When you two were standing in front of the lake, freezing with just your underwear, Taeil is the one who took initiative to get naked and go in the cold water. “Whenever you’re ready,” he says a little too loud, waiting for you.

It was really cold and you were giggling while you strip in front of Taeil. You hug your exposed body as you get in the water and meet him with a cold embrace and warm kiss. You two swam in the middle of the lake not giving a fuck at how cold the water is because the moment is just too beautiful to waste. Water splashing, a generous amount of flirting and making out, then boom.

Fireworks light up the sky with the moon watching calmly. Taeil’s arms are caging you under the water as you two watch the fireworks. “I’m not planning on letting you go” he whispers softly.

You turn your head and see his handsome face wet and blushing because of the cold and because of you. You pull him closer and gave him a deep kiss, “Not planning to let you go either” you said and in the heat of the moment, you and Taeil kissed roughly and with want. His hands were all around your body, caressing your skin underwater. You can feel his cock poking your thigh and sometimes brushing on your slit that simply makes you moan and smile.

“As much as I want you now, we can’t have sex for the first time in this lake” he says, kissing your neck.

“In your car then?” you suggest shivering and keeping him close. He nods and guides you back to his car, carrying you effortlessly with his strong arms. You two were shaking inside, all bundled up with a thick blanket that he had at the backseat of his car. Taeil made you sat on his lap, his arms cradle you like a baby while he was keeping you warm. You were bodies to bodies while giggling and kissing, and finally, you feel his hand on your inner thighs. He doesn’t need any permission to touch you but he still asked like the gentleman that he is, and once you said yes, he brushed his middle finger up and down your wet slit which makes your head roll back and gave him an opening to kiss your neck.

Everything that’s happening right now was enough to heat you both up, you removed the blanket and sat comfortably on his lap with your legs on both his sides. You grind deliciously on his cock, coating it with your pussy juices while his cold lips spread kisses on your chest, all the way to your nipples, and suck them until they’re both swollen. It feels so good and the mixture of lust and cold is just so perfect.

“Are we going to fuck raw on our first time?” he asks, nipping your earlobe while his hands knead your boobs.

“Sure” you moan out, guiding his hand on your clit. “Ohhh just like that” you request, holding on to his nape and moan near his ear. Fuck he’s getting really hard, you thought.

“Are you on pill?”

“No” you tease him and suddenly he stopped everything before you can even cum.

“Well do you want to have kids so soon?” he slowly lay you down the backseat and kiss the valley between your boobs, hold your knees, and spread your legs so he can line his cock.

“Pull out for tonight big boy, I’m not that easy” you bit his lips, sling your arms around his neck, and feel him push inside you slowly. “Fuck you’re big” you gasped, move your head from side to side until his cock is fully in. Taeil kissed your neck until you calm down and soon rolled his hips slowly. On the first thrust, you were moaning so good that you kept him close to your body and spreading your legs more for better access. “Go deeper” you whisper but it came out as a low moan.

“Having second thoughts about me pulling out? Sure you don’t want me to cum inside you, baby?” he smirked and continued fucking you good. You don’t know how but you scored a gentleman and a man who can fuck right, that’s what you’ve been thinking all this time. Everything he did to your body is perfect, every sound he let out is full of lust, every sweet word he tells you goes straight to your heart.

“I love you” this is not how you planned to tell him but the words somehow came out of nowhere. But you have no regrets.

“I was planning to say it first. I love you too and fuck-“ he picked up his pace which made you both a moaning mess while he was in the middle of saying something important, but he was so close. “I’ll do everything to make you happy and keep you in my life” he kissed you deeply while his right hand goes in between your bodies to draw circles on your clit, putting enough pressure on it so you will moan loudly, whimper, and gasp for air. Taeil did the same and pulled out so quickly to jerk his cock with his left hand and still make you cum with his right hand.

“Oh my go- Taeil! fuck-“ he felt your legs shiver as you cum on his fingers. The sight of him jerking in front of you was the one that made you cum and let go. He looked so hot jerking his cock, stroking it quickly then slowly. You reached for him even if you feel so weak and out of breath, kissing him with tongue, and biting his cold lips.

“I changed my mind. You are the only exception Moon Taeil. Fuck me again and cum inside me” it was an invitation he can’t refuse so he lines his cock again when he felt you grind your hips on him.

“I love you” he said, looking deep in your eyes and stoping the world for you.

“I love you too” Then he pushes in again and fucked you for the second time tonight.

↩︎prev next ▶︎

Dear Anon, I had so much fun in writing this! Omg it’s something I want to experience too hehe and also I love writing for Taeil! Thank you so much I hope you enjoy this 💚

[tsumuniri]

━━━ Atsumu Miya is a free-loader. Living inside his twin brother's home as if it was his, he would bring home girls and annoy Osamu most of the time. Y/N L/N is quite the opposite apparently because she's a virgin loser. Being the popular anonymous BL mangaka known as Yamazaki, she stays in the homey abode of her parents and watches boys from afar for references (not for admiration sadly).

Now what will happen if fate decided to tie these two idiots together and made them live across each other in one apartment?

。m.list ❯❯ prev┃next

ONE ━━ THE TWIN BROTHER’S DECISION

"SO THAT'S THE TEA?"

You nodded dejectedly and raised the Tuna Mayo Onigiri in the direction of your mouth. You bit into the delicious rice snack, humming in delight as the saucy and sweet flavors of tuna cheered you up just for a slight bit. "They said that a girl my age shouldn't be living with her parents and should finally get a guy instead of drawing an imaginary one. You know that they're old school, Mai." You said, mouth full of rice bits and tuna.

The female ran her fingers through her short bright red hair. "Well, you are 25 now, and you haven't got a boyfriend since middle school," She propped her elbow on top of the round wooden table, resting her chin on her palm. "But they should've told you beforehand, right? How are you supposed to look for a residence in a short span of time?" She asked and watched you devour the onigiri meal with such ease. Her black-colored eyes held an uncertain expression as Mai was concerned for her colleague and friend.

After hearing the unfortunate news directly from your loving parents, your mind had to process the sudden information for two solid minutes. The first person you thought of to call is your closest friend, Mai, your roommate back at art school and a mangaka in the shounen industry. Although the two genres have completely different backgrounds, you two are stuck together like peas in a pod through the grace and glory of fawning over 2d men.

Ain't that great?

"They said I could stay back for two weeks until I could find a place to move in. I still have nine days to move out. And as for the residence part..."

You rummaged through the leather bag slung over your shoulder and took out a creased brochure of a newly built apartment based in the heart of east Osaka with its breathtaking cherry blossom conifers and pious shrines. The leaflet's minimalistic design delineated the idiosyncratic architectural structure of the tall building on the front page. Anybody could tell that this jointly owned establishment may settle for tenants with stable incomes.

For someone who changed the BL archives with her plot-driven works, Y/N could provide the fees to rent a homey room on the clabber-plastered apartment complex.

Mai shifted on her seat and studied the brochure on the table with interest— crossing her legs and leaning her torso forward to get a full view of the given pamphlet. "The building does seem promising. You could even check out your works in the Manga Shops at the city." She remarked as her eyes skimmed through the brochure, taking note of the facilities and rooms for the future tenants.

"Right? I already checked the place out yesterday, and coincidentally, the studio office is close by," The H/C-haired female pushed back the tiny strands of baby hair tickling her forehead as it was annoying her smooth skin. "They even allow pets. The apartment buildings I visited mostly don't allow pets, and the others who do, they have weird-ass tenants whom I don't really wanna be neighbors with." She ended, scratching the back of her neck.

"Soooooo, that's the apartment you're planning to move in."

You nodded your head, "I prepared the papers and told my parents about it. Maybe you can help me move my things out?" You suggested to your friend as your leg overlapped with the other, biting into another piece of onigiri from the porcelain plate.

Tilting her head to the side, Mai let out a light scoff from the BL mangaka's proposition as she gestured her hand downwards. "I'm offended, Y/N! Of course, I'll help you." She expressed her whimsical disbelief through her words. "I thought we were best of friends." The young lady teased.

"After all those collab fan arts of the Akatsuki, why wouldn't we be at this point?" You joked; however, the shinobi anime reference wasn't technically a gag as you both had a history of fangirling over the smexy criminal organization— even if you both had a peculiar taste in men. "By the way, why did you choose this place? Isn't this sort of far away from your workplace?" You questioned the red-haired female, a bit curious on why she decided to meet up with you in this Onigiri Restaurant.

Mai's lips turned up into a smirk as she motioned her finger for you to move closer. "My assistants and I decided to eat here after a hard day's work. By the time we were all seated, our eyes got blessed when the restaurant's owner catered to our table!" She whispered with excitement dipped on her tongue.

"Oh boy, if you had seen him, you would've gotten the inspiration to make a character from his well-sculpted face."

You raised a brow and let out a snortle, "We went here because a hot owner caught your attention? I should've gone with you then." You played along and couldn't help but laugh at your friend's reason for dining out a distance away from her studio office.

Like middle schoolers, you both giggled as Mai continued her story of the dashing Onigiri restaurant owner with her witty play of words. You never had any interest in dating; however, you still bid no mind to your friend's fawning over pretty men who would unlikely pay attention to either of them.

"That owner you're talking about might not visit his restaurant, Mai."

"I know, silly! But I do wonder what that work of art does outside his work."

Osamu is a very patient man. May it be through his responsibility of running an Onigiri business, or may it be just a simple waiting in line at the subway station of Tokyo, the male wouldn't lose his temper nor be frustrated over such trivial things.

But when his exhausted figure slugged inside the comforts of his home and found the living room all trashed with empty bottles of energy drinks and bags of chips, Osamu was finally at his breaking point.

"Atsumu, you mother-fucker... COME DOWNSTAIRS THIS INSTANT!" He burst out, calling out his twin brother's name as he began picking up the trashes scattered throughout his coffee table and his lawson couch. His ears caught the sound of loud footsteps thumping on the wooden-tiled floor as he could immediately tell that it was a certain someone who came down the stairs.

A bed of ruffled blonde hair popped out of the stairway as a certain setter casually jumps into the scene of the untidy crime, walking towards the other twin with open arms.

"Welcome home, Samu! Did your staff make a mistake in the newly-opened shop back at Shinjuku? You look a bit frustrated right now-"

Atsumu stopped himself once he noticed his twin brother standing over the mess he forgot to clean up. His arms dropped to the side while his chocolate eyes shifted over to Osamu's annoyed expression, "Okay. This time, I absolutely forgot to clean up." The male tried to explain himself.

The quiet one of the two shook his head in disapproval, sighing out and pinching the bridge of his nose to calm his fiery nerves. "I found this apartment, Tsumu. I think it's best for the both of us if you could finally get your own place." He stated, hearing the slight choke coming from his brother's throat.

"WHAT?! What made you think that this would be the best for the both of us, Samu?" Atsumu protested, his eyebrows furrowing together in confusion as to why his brother would suggest that sort of idea.

Osamu raised his hand and lifted three of his fingers to his twin's eye level. "First, you sometimes disrupt my sleep whenever you'd bring your flings at home," He stated and didn't bother to let the other speak their mind about the issue at hand as he continued his statement of reasons. "Second, you'd sometimes forget to do your lists of chores and often lie that you didn't do them because you were tired from training." He paused for a moment, thinking of a third reason until it clicked in the back of his mind.

"Lastly, you're a 23 professional athlete, who makes a lot of money than what I usually make, and yet, you're living with your twin brother."

Atsumu stared at Osamu as he crossed his arms, "So? You'll kick me out if I don't move out of your place?" He derided, his voice mostly holding a hint of teasing as he knew his brother wouldn't act so rashly over those reasons.

Oh, was the male so wrong.

"Yes, Tsumu. I'm kicking you out."

[kashimos-hajime]

dear... whoever | b.b.

summary: a mandated series of long and short diary entries from the new head of R&D for Stark Industries. 

WARNINGS: swearing, LOTS of fluff, mentions of drinking and sex and hospitals and guns, general fun and witty attitude, small angst, big jealousy, obviously au after civil war. everything after does not exist. pairing: bucky barnes x fem!reader word count: 9.5k

a/n: written for @softbiker​ and 100% inspired by @sunmoonandbucky​ with the format. my prompt was let me love you by rita ora and i wrote it from the perspective the singer is singing it to rather than the actual singer. this was super fun to write. enjoy!

July 31/20

Dear…

Whoever is going to read this. So… me, in the future probably. So, it should be dear WHOMever, I think, but it sounds wrong.

Is it too cliché to say dear diary? I don’t know. After all, I don’t WANT to be writing this but unfortunately I am because it’s mandated. Apparently, the psychiatrist that works for Stark Industries thinks it’s necessary that I write down my feelings and show that I’ve adjusted to working part-time superhero, full-time head of Tony’s stupid R&D department.

Something about how that much stress can cause psychotic fractures in the worst case scenario.

Cute.

Anyway, I don’t know what to write. Currently, it’s 4:23AM. The only reason I’m awake is because I have trouble sleeping on the best night. I heard Barnes messing about and because I am the Hermit of the Rec Room Couch (catchy, I know), I can hear him just walking about.

What the hell is he even doing?

To be honest, I’ve never talked to Barnes besides the occasional greetings because he’s the sort to keep to himself, I guess, and, valid. I’m not saying it’s not, considering his history, but you know.

I think I’m a friendly person, and I’m bored. He’s eventually going to hear me writing noisily because of super-soldier hearing or whatever, so I might just get up and introduce myself.

Not that I’ve been working here for years, but whatever.

I’m really bored and hungry, honestly, so a trip to the kitchen would be considered normal (and warranted) in such circumstances.

Fuck it.

Time to make a new friend or die trying. If you never hear from me again, you’ll know why.

.

Aug. 1/20

Dear Jane,

I finally got the time to write in here and you may be wondering why I have named you. Well, after the conversation at roughly 4:30 AM, here are things that’ve changed in a disorganized list. None is more important than the other. I'm just writing what comes to my head.

One: Barnes said he doesn’t really let anyone call him James. I called him James once because I forgot. Profuse apologies followed. He said it was okay and didn’t mind me calling him that. Now, in my mind, I think he’s just saying this to be polite and really just wants me to call him Bucky but he seemed sincere. We’ll see how it goes.

Two: Barnes was awake because his cat woke him up. I didn’t even know he had a cat but it’s a gorgeous white cat named Alpine that Barnes carries around in his half-zipped up hoodies sometimes. It’s adorable. He’s super soft and friendly and I love him already. He showed me all the tricks Alpine could do. Amazing.

Three: Barnes’ favourite movie is the Godfather. Totally surprising there. Please tell me you understand sarcasm.

Four: He said he liked the name Jane when I told him what I was doing up and also in the rec room (couldn’t sleep, writing in my diary) and that I didn’t want to say “Dear diary”

“Why don’t you just give it a name?” he eloquently suggested and Jane was his answer to my question of “Which name?”

Five: Barnes, or James, I guess he is now, is my friend.

Six: We said we’d meet up at 4:30AM or earlier again because I told him I wanted to show him my s’mores dip recipe.

Seven: Wish me luck. Hope I don’t get murdered.

Eight: I think I might be in love with him.

Bye.

.

Aug. 5/20

Dear Jane,

In an effort to summarize what has happened in the past four days, I will open with the fact that James Buchana Barnes is the cutest motherfucker on the planet. He’s super old fashioned, but that’s a given. He opens the doors for me, offers to take my bags up, and in the past four days, we’ve met up at around midnight to just eat and chat. Then he walks me back to my room with a glass of water and I’m left fanning myself because it’s so sweet and he’s so sweet and OH, MY GOD, I am a child.

This feels like a crush. Like, butterflies in my stomach, self-conscious every time he looks at me, can’t stop staring, and wanting to impress him at every turn sort of crush.

AKA, a middle-school crush and I feel completely ridiculous but that is besides the point because he’s just the loveliest person.

Someone should tell him chivalry is dead. Steve thinks he’s just being sweet on me, and Sam says I should flash some ass just to get a rise out of him which would be funny. He’d look absolutely adorable blushing his head off.

We’ll see. I am considering it.

What else happened? I’m drawing a huge blank.

As explained in a previous entry, I was to show Barnes my s’mores dip recipe. Huge success. Crowd loved it. That’s how I learned he has a huge sweet tooth like me. Got an email from Pep about a board meeting which I ignored. If it’s really important, she’ll see me in person. Went swimming with Sam. We started planning Tony’s big Christmas party even though that’s MONTHS away.

But, you know. We’re so busy all the time, it might be worth it planning ahead.

As head of R&D, it’s vital to me that this goes well because they’re fun when they do go well, and a chaotic disaster when they don’t. Also, I have to find a date but details will follow.

I think that’s it.

If there’s more to follow, then I’ll just come back but there really isn’t.

Oh, Alpine found my room. He’s in here right now and he snores. It’s cute, just like his owner.

Okay, goodnight.

.

Aug. 7/20

Dear Jane,

Sam, James, and I went swimming.

Pro of the day: James is ripped and that man was GLISTENING.

Con of the day: I AM STUPID in front of hot ripped men.

Pro of the day: We got ice cream together. Strawberry for me, mango for James because he wants to try new flavours, and Sam ordered some monstrosity with vanilla ice cream, chocolate and raspberry syrups, and a bunch of banana slices. A swirl of whipped cream to finish it off. It looked like diabetes in a cup and that’s coming from me.

Con of the day: James used his thumb to wipe the ice cream off my lip and my brain short-circuited. Sam teased us about it, but James very stubbornly and convincingly said we’re just friends.

Con of the day x2: We are just friends and that is NOT going to change. I cannot explain how much my heart literally fell out of my body in disappointment.

God, and James and I are meeting up at 2AM tonight so he can show me this new stupid stuffed celerey recipe he learned.

It’s not stupid.

It’s really, REALLY cute he researched it.

This sucks.

.

Aug. 11/20

The worst day ever. I don’t want to talk about it but might as well make a note on it. More on it later, I guess.

.

Aug. 15/20

Dear Jane,

Sorry, I’m dramatic. Must get it from working with Tony for so many years.

Let’s just review what occurred on August 11, 2020, at approximately 3:23 in the afternoon.

I learned that James went out on a date. A DATE. From SAM. When James had ample opportunity to tell me at our regular meeting at witching hour over celery sticks.

EXCUSE ME? WHO IS THIS WOMAN?

I’m not even mad. I’m just angry that the man I became friends with only 2 weeks ago and caught feelings immediately for is seeing other people.

I sound like a raging bitch. I promise you, Jane, that I am not. I’m just the insanely jealous type.

No, I’m not.

God, what is happening to me and why does it have to be James.

I never get crushes and the instant I do, it’s for the most emotionally and physically unavailable person ON EARTH.

Also, work was work. I was distracted, drank soup from the canteen, and generally accomplished nothing. Alpine came for some snuggles while James was out. That’s the only good thing.

Thanks, universe.

.

Aug. 16/20

Dear Jane,

So, I brought up this mystery lady over homemade sundaes.

James seems pretty serious about her because he a) apologized for not telling because he wanted to keep it private and asked me not to tell anyone and b) has a second date with her later today.

Oh, GOD. There is no point to this.

.

Aug. 19/20

Dear Jane,

What’s the point of asking someone intimate, personal questions if not because you guys are best friends?

James called me his best friend today. He says he knows me, but if he did, he’d know I feel like throwing up whenever he’s around and that his stare burns through every layer of clothing until I feel like he just knows my secret.

I told him we’ve known each other less than a month, but he said something stupidly charming about “intuition” and feeling and that this feels right and how he knows he can tell me anything and that I was an easy person to talk to.

I should’ve been a shrink.

At least, my trip to Wakanda is going to give me distance. A solid two months of no one else but me, tech, and new faces. Going there to collaborate with Shuri is definitely exciting and taking up more space in my brain than James these days.

Maybe I’ll fall in love with some soldier over there because apparently, I’m catching feelings willy-nilly these days.

See you on the plane, Jane.

.

Aug. 23/20

Dear Jane,

On the quinjet, it’s fairly quiet. It’s one of the things I love about it. The silent yet soft engines that can lull me to sleep. We should be arriving in a few hours so I thought I’d write. I’m getting the hang of this, I think.

There's a press conference later, too, in the trip with the UN and it’s not that I can’t handle it, but that I could’ve done this in my sleep and wished Tony sent someone else. I hate the press, not gonna lie.

Anyway, this gives me time to be introspective.

Is it just me or James always Okay, is it just my imagination that whenever I try to get close to James, he just kinda pulls away? Not in a romantic way. I’m not stealing anyone’s man because girl code, but he won’t even let me just stand near him anymore. It’s like I have an infectious disease only transmitted through physical contact and it’s just weird.

I don’t know.

Before I left, he said he’d miss me and that we should keep in touch through calls (Obviously, I would) and that he hopes I won’t forget him.

So, you say those things but you won’t even let me even hug you?

You’re a manipulative asshole, Barnes.

.

Oct. 20/20

Dear Jane,

I am so sorry that it has taken so long for us to reunite.

In hindsight, I’m a fucking idiot.

I left you on the quinjet which went back to New York and a different quinjet came to pick me up. I came back like two days ago so these past few days have been spent searching for you.

James offered to help, and he seems normal again.

Weird. Guess he was just in a mood with the new girlfriend and adjusting to having me as a friend, too. Guys go through that, I guess.

In Wakanda, I did not, in fact, fall in love with a soldier or anything. I curse every day that I didn’t, trust me. I’m just as disappointed as you are because I just want to get over this stupid crush. For the two months I was gone, it was like I didn’t like James at all like that. Even during calls, I could pretend we were just two teammates keeping each other in the loop. He talked about his girlfriend, I listened, I explained science because he’s a nerd, and he asked questions like he was interested.

It was FINE.

Then, he was waiting for me when I came back to NYC and it slammed into me like Bruce in Hulk-mode.

James asked if I wanted to meet his girlfriend because she’d be coming around for the Halloween party anyway, and he thinks we’ll get along swimmingly.

He really said swimmingly. He is stuck in the wrong era, but we all knew that.

I said yes, to be polite.

Here’s to hoping she’s a vindictive bitch and I am justified in hating her entire being.

.

Oct. 22/20

Dear Jane,

I met her. She’s small and pretty and mature and normal.

If I wasn’t stupidly in my feelings about James, I’d love her, too. 

She’d treat him right, give him a good home to come back to.

Best not to notice the people fighting beside you in that way, I guess.

.

Oct. 25/20

Dear Jane,

God is dead and NO ONE has eyes on the road.

Jesus isn’t even taking the wheel on this one.

It’s a fucking disaster.

I do not want to describe in every little detail the intricacies of dreaming about James Buchanan Barnes fucking my brains out, so I won’t, but this is for the record that it happened and how the fuck am I supposed to come back and see him in his probably gorgeous attempt at his recreation of Brendan Fraser from the Mummy AKA my favourite movie (which HE KNOWS THAT IT IS?? GOD, the audacity.)

Girlfriend (his girlfriend. “Girlfriend” is the name which she shall be henceforth known as in these entries because petty wins are all I have right now) is dressing as Rachel Weisz. Because “couples goals” or whatever.

I wouldn’t know. Sam and I are dressed up as sexy salt and pepper shakers (his idea, not mine) and he made me take the salt stick because I think he knows. Steve’s not dressing up because he’s more focused on handing out candy as Captain America.

Tony is… Tony. Iron Man and all that.

Anyway, I’m out of town in DC for a meeting with the Secretary of State for a few days, but I’ll be back in New York on the 30th so I’ll have a few hours to adjust to being around James again before he dons on that outfit that I know will be totally hot.

He called me his best friend again in his latest email.

Made me smile like an idiot, but I digress.

.

Nov. 1/20

Dear Jane,

Halloween was killer. Sam and I won best duo for costumes because we’re that good. Ate a lot of candy and it seems to be looking up.

I dunno. I didn’t mind James and Girlfriend on the couch that much in the after-party. Mostly stuck by Nat and Sharon and Tony. An ood trio, but a fun one nonetheless.

It was fun, but I still have to go to work no matter how many jello shots and vodka gummy bears consumed.

Wish me luck, not that I need it.

Why do you think Tony hired me?

.

Nov. 4/20

Dear Jane.

Natasha said I smile at James in a way that utterly betrays every emotion I want to hide in my chest.

Note to self: Don’t smile at James, or at his jokes, or at anything he ever does again. Avoid him. Put a stopper on this friendship.

Note to note to self: I can’t. He just makes me smile whenever he’s around and he’s always around. There’s no simpler way to put it.

I’m gonna try this hiatus thing, though. Distance myself a bit. We’ll see how it goes.

.

Nov. 13/20

Dear Jane,

Day nine of this hiatus business and it sucks. I miss my best friend.

We’re scheduled for a mission together, and we’re leaving tomorrow so I was going to have to talk to him during the briefing and the op either way.

Well, glad to know this didn’t work.

.

Nov. 15/20

Dear Jane,

Guess who just got fucking shot!

ME!

Guess even scumbags can’t take a holiday because some stupid arms dealer got a cheap shot on me while I was downloading their whole computer system and other tech mumbo-jumbo I am too high to write about.

James left a few hours ago with the rest of the team, but not before he got me a bunch of ice chips and said he was worried and that he hopes I get better soon. He even promised to get me some flowers to spruce up the room and to say my HEART went CRAZY is an understatement.

He came to my rescue, essentially, as soon as he heard I got pinned. He carried me to the quinjet the instant he cleared the area and stayed by my side the whole time even though the bleeding stopped and I was in good hands. He was just so protective, barking at doctors and nurses. It was embarrassing but also really, really sweet.

Is it weird of me to say that I want him to stay by my side forever? 

I’ve never fallen in love before.

Is it always this fast and this hard? I feel like I’m crashing instead of gently and wonderfully falling. Everything is dumb and awful.

Is this what love is like? Because it hurts worse than getting shot because I think I’m going to vomit flowers or butterflies or something.

God, he’d never love me. We’re just friends and even though we have a lot in common, he’d never. It’s just too much of the past in the present or whatever.

Also, he has a girlfriend but it seems very surface-level. God, that makes me sound like a “one of the boys” type of girl who’s a bitch to one of the boy’s new girlfriends, but I don’t know. James told me they don’t really talk about the deep stuff like we do. But she makes him happy, I think.

In hindsight, one may ask what the deep stuff is.

More on that later. I’m tired.

God, why him?

I HATE THIS.

goodnight.

.

Nov. 16/20

Dear Jane,

James visited again today. He sat beside me and we talked until the nurses had to kick him out. He also brought the flowers.

I asked about Girlfriend casually. I said I liked her.

He said he did, too.

I don’t know why I think he’s lying. No, I do.

It’s because jealousy is the green-eyed bitch from highschool who still shows up in my life because she thinks she’s relevant to society.

That was mean. Unrequited love makes you mean. Side effect noted.

P.S. The deep stuff includes his past, his arm, his memory, his favourite colour. I dunno why that matters. It just does.

.

Nov. 17/20

Dear Jane,

Got out of the hospital today because of advanced technology and all that. Nothing’s left but a scar and residual soreness. James helped me to my room and said to call him if I had a problem.

I joked that he has a girlfriend and for some reason, he got really weird about it. It’s hard to describe. I dunno. Nat dropped by for popcorn and movies.

It’s 2:32AM. I’m wondering if he’s in the kitchen but I’m confined to bed rest so I don’t know. Also, Nat is asleep beside me and I don’t want to bother her.

Hopefully I can get up and move in a few days. Life is boring.

.

Nov. 24/20

Dear Jane,

Sorry we haven’t caught up in a moment. Work’s been hectic and I’ve been working overtime trying to make ends meet. Most days I’m in the office or lab, just trying to get enough things done so I can take time off come Christmas.

James stopped by tonight with Chinese takeout and some sweet buns.

He broke up with his girlfriend, too.

Guess that’s why he was being weird about it.

I tried being as casual as I could asking why, but he didn’t want to talk about it, so I asked why he came by. Couldn’t be for the company because when I’m in work mode, I just don’t talk and he knows that.

He said something about his arm feeling funny so I gave it a quick diagnostics check.

I think both of us knew his arm was feeling fine.

Everything is stupid, life is meaningless, and James’ lips are the prettiest shade of pink in the ugly lights of the lab.

I would very much like to have kissed him, but I didn’t.

Girl code.

It’ll probably be a while before I get another chance to actually have time and energy to write another diary entry. Christmas season’s coming close and Pepper is gonna need help with the party.

Yay, me.

.

Dec. 4/20

Dear Jane,

Morgan asked me in less eloquent words if I had a boyfriend (it was more like “You boyfriend?” But whatever. Who even taught her that word?) and I swear to GOD Nat could not make it anymore obvious looking at James.

Remind me to absolutely throttle her. I don’t care if she’s the infamous Black Widow. She has clearly never seen me hopped up on nothing but a negative amount of sleep and rage/embarrassment/spite/all of the above.

On another note, Pep asked if I was bringing a plus one for the party. I said I’d think about it. Normally I’d just take Sam but he has his eyes on someone at the VA and I like my friends getting laid so no go there.

Might just go alone. I don’t know.

Pep said I should take James, but I don’t really think she knows the truth about that situation. Luckily, Tony instantly rejected the idea and said he’d find me a date if I couldn’t.

Thank the universe for at least placing me in the close circle of the most well-known and richest man in the world because he also gave me his card and said go wild.

He knows me so well. I’m thinking about Christmas shopping when I have another free day, and I’ll pay for that with my own money, of course, but clothes shopping is a free market.

I cannot wait.

.

Dec. 12/20

Dear Jane,

I wish I could show you my haul, but I got so much stuff Happy had to drive to help me. Besides obvious gifts, I also managed to snag a gorgeous dress for the party.

Thoughts on black and gold?

I think it’s beautiful. Hopefully Nat and Sharon think so. We’re having a girls night tonight and showing off outfits, so that’s exciting.

James asked if we could meet up tonight.

I told him I had plans and he looked so downcast.

I dunno. Everything feels weird between us. Like we’re fine, we’re best friends still, but something’s changed when no one was looking. He’s single now. I guess that energy is different because I had gotten used to his energy with ex-Girlfriend.

I don’t exactly mind but it’s not ideal either. I miss summer. It’s much less complicated than winter. Winter, one has to worry about wind and chills and snows blocking roads, black ice, dry skin, freezing fingers.

Summer: there’s just a lot of sun, wind, bugs, and the vaguest notion of being bored.

Look, I love winter. It’s my favourite season. It’s quiet and gorgeous and dreamy, even though it gets dreary in New York. The snow falls slowly sometimes, Christmas is gorgeous here, and I’d rather be cold than sweating buckets, and there are no bugs to bother me. Also, it gives me a good reason to stay in the labs or in my room where it’s warm and toasty.

I just miss the relative simplicity when James and I were just strangers on the edge of being friends, which is, in retrospect, a selfish reason to like one season and hate another.

Well, some philosopher somewhere probably said something about humanity being selfish.

.

Dec. 16/20

Dear Jane,

T-minus nine days until the party.

No date in sight.

Maybe I’ll ask Anderson from HR. We had coffee together a few times and he’s nice. Good catch: smart, not too bad looking, and really nice. I’ll head down tomorrow and ask.

Alpine had purred when I told him my plan and headbutted my hand, so I guess I got the Alpine-Seal-of-Approval.

.

Dec. 17/20

Dear Jane,

Operation: Ask Anderson from HR to Tony’s Christmas Party failed. Granted, it could’ve been because that was a god awful title and that that name, in itself, prophesied catastrophic failure, but also because I was accosted by my best friend.

I wish I meant Sam.

Nope. James caught me in the elevator and we made small talk. Sounds fine, right? Then we turned the topic to the party. Talked about clothes and prospective celebrity appearances and drinks and food. Just about everything, so might as well turn to talks about dates, which meant I had to explain why I was in the elevator in the first place.

Going down to ask Anderson ended in James revealing that he didn’t have a date either.

He doesn’t know who Anderson is, which I thought would be the case, and he popped the question before the doors opened.

Notice how I said “didn't” have a date.

Guess who’s going to the party with James, clearly stated as friends, platonic soulmates, etc.?

Me.

Yippee.

.

Dec. 18/20

Dear Jane,

It’s 3:42AM and I’m in the rec room as usual. I was gonna not write here today but it normally helps me sleep to just write a bit, get what little thoughts are in my head out. Yeah.

I hear James in the kitchen talking to Alpine and it’s making me smile like an idiot.

Oh, shit, he knows I’m in here. He’s making milkshakes.

I am morally obligated by best friend duties to join him.

Goodnight, Jane.

.

Dec. 24/20

Dear Jane,

I’m not sleeping with James Buchanan Barnes tomorrow night.

This is a resolute promise. An early New Year’s resolution.

.

Dec. 25/20

Dear Jane,

Merry Christmas! 

In between jovial festivities, I’ve finally found a little nook that’s quiet enough to write in. We opened presents, had a big family breakfast, went skating and just lounged around, and frankly, I’m exhausted. Need to recharge the old social battery.

Among the assortment of gifts is one that stands out to me. James got me a gift that said “Open When Alone” and I did before I started this entry and it was a fucking necklace. Like, a gorgeous one. It’s gold and thin and it feels wonderful. There’s a little cat paw charm on it and it’s so pretty because he has a matching bracelet for himself and I have still not yet recovered.

It’s just so sweet and it reminds me why I love him.

Yes, love has made me unbelievably sappy. I just heaved the biggest sigh in history.

Unfortunately, I have to go earlier tonight. To the party, as written in previous entries. I remember my oath of one-night celibacy and I intend on keeping it, despite how fucking endearing this gift was, because he said it best: we’re just friends. I’m not about to coerce my best friend into sleeping with me out of a piteous, unrequited love. That’s just gross.

You will either see me hungover tomorrow, or very drunk later tonight. It’s all very depending on how this night turns out.

.

Dec. 26/20

Dear Jane,

Fuck.

P.S. He REALLY does not mind me calling him James. Take that as dirtily or as clandestinely as you wish.

.

Dec. 27/20

Dear Jane,

I spent the entire day in bed with very pleasurable company.

I am SO GLAD we haven’t gotten called in because James doesn’t leave unless to go to sleep in his own bed or to eat, and I do NOT want to explain to the team that James fucked my brains out for two days straight because my heart is bursting.

He’s a good kisser. His lips are soft.

Intimate knowledge of that is now burned into my memory for future reference.

God, this is a dream come true. He doesn’t even question it, he just

It’s like I’m a goddess to him. He treats me like one, at least, and it’s like he’ll do anything I ask. And we act like it’s normal, too. Midnight trips to the kitchen included.

Best Christmas ever.

.

Dec. 28/20

Dear Jane,

I feel like I’m ignoring you but I’m also having the best sex of my life. He’s just… so fucking good and it’s a holiday and holy shit my mind is blown.

Love at first meeting isn’t real.

Well, maybe this one time, it was destiny.

.

Dec. 29/20

Dear Jane,

It isn’t just the sex, you know? It’s the pillowtalk, too. He just makes me laugh so much and everything is so easy between us and it feels real. Popcorn and chips in bed, some mojitos, just each other’s presence. It’s enough like that, you know?

Some quote about how the one you love should be both your lover and your best friend is in my head but I’m too lazy to look it up. James’ head is in my lap and he’s just reading while I’m writing and everything seems perfect.

He doesn’t ask what I’m writing because he knows it’s private and I trust him.

This is perfect.

I think I really am IN love with him.

.

Jan. 1/21

You know that cliché/tradition of New Year’s kisses?

WELL THEN.

Best (and worst) New Year’s ever. I’ll explain more later. I’m too tired and too angry and also sore and bruised.

See you when I’m not hungover.

.

Jan. 5/21

Dear Jane,

I’m finally stable enough to write.

In a crazy turn of events, Barnes and I got into a fight because of what happened after New Year’s Day’s events: I caught him leaving before I woke up and at first, curious questions ensued, and it wasn’t a fight but then it became one and I don’t even know how it happened. I wasn’t even mad. He just started being weird and I got annoyed and we tried and failed to keep our voices down. Luckily, my room is pretty soundproof.

Things just got out of hand and I feel like tearing my hair out. I wanna storm up to him and just yell some more.

Tony came into my room and didn’t say shit about my hickies and the fact that James is avoiding me like the plague. He gave me a really good hug, though and then gave me a few weeks off extra. I don’t know how he knows, but then again, it’s Tony.

He just said love’s tough sometimes.

Yeah, tell me about it.

I’m thinking about just taking a long vacation and disappearing. It seems like a good route to take at this point.

.

Jan. 6/21

Dear Jane,

James is looking at me right now as I write this. I wonder if I should look back or if he’s going to come up to me. We’ll see.

I’m only writing this so it seems like I’m busy. I’m running out of things to say, honestly. Can he just go? What’s the point in staring like that? What’s the point?

I could ask myself the same question. What’s the point in loving someone who’ll never love you? Yeah, he’s sleeping with me but he pulls away every time I try to do something more. Outside the bubble of my room and the small time frame of post-11PM to around 4:45AM, he acts like he’s allergic to intimacy.

It was never like that with ex-Girlfriend.

Maybe it’s something to do with me.

I don’t know, but he keeps looking and I want to get up and leave, but I won’t. I’m not gonna let him win.

.

Jan. 6/21

He didn’t. He just went out. Sam and Steve asked if I was okay because as soon as he left, I got up for the bathroom and screamed into a towel.

I don’t think either of them knows what’s going on, but they have a notion.

.

Jan. 9/21

Dear Jane,

He apologized. Still no explanation as to why, but it feels weird.

I told him I’m going on a vacation to Switzerland. Go skiing or something and asked if he wanted to come.

It was stupid to ask, but he said yes.

Shit.

.

Jan. 14/21

Dear Jane,

Switzerland is lovely.

No work is relaxing. Awkwardness between me and the other traveller on this vacation. Weather’s supposed to be nice when we get there. Sunny snow days, pretty mountains, other Swiss things.

No other comment.

.

Jan. 21/21

Dear Jane,

I lasted all of a week.

Yep, I slept with him again, and yes, he was back in his hotel bed come sunrise.

I dunno. I’m over it. We don’t apologize and hope everything gets back to normal because neither of us want to say anything to ruin it any further and we both have a major fear of the complicated. To be fair, he said he didn’t want to sleep with me if I was completely against it.

Also, I tried calling him Bucky at dinner like ex-Girlfriend (and everyone else) does and he made the most disgusted face.

He said, and I quote, “Bucky? When did I stop being James?”

I told him I was trying something out and he said it failed. Snarky bastard.

I guess if he’s still James, that must mean I’m still special.

That’s the Tony-inherited ego talking.

But it does make me exceptionally happy to play with the idea that I’m special to him. Best friend with convoluted benefits. Sounds like the title of a very long-winded self-help book that doesn’t really help much but that does sound like the story of my life so I can’t complain too much.

We’re going home in a few days.

I’ll probably sleep with him again. Bet Steve’s shield that I do.

.

Jan. 24/21

Dear Jane,

I get three Steve’s shields because I was right every single fucking day.

He’s like a habit I can’t quite kick and don’t really want to.

We snuggled afterwards last night. His arm was around my shoulders, we were naked, I was resting my head on his chest. For a moment, it felt like something couples do and then I fell asleep and woke up alone.

Quantum physics is easier to understand than this but I think we’re being mutually exclusive right now, so it’s almost dating.

I dunno. I don’t mind it anymore. It’s better than nothing.

.

Feb. 2/21

Dear Jane,

I’m absolutely miserable.

I’m still getting laid, but that’s not related. Correlation and causation or something.

Why is New York so dreary and when can everything just stop?

I don’t know. Winter is ending and now it’s in that awful transition phase between seasons and it’s mucky and rainy and disgusting. Tony got these limited edition ice cream flavours though so I’m gonna ask James if we can make milkshakes out of them or something.

He doesn’t like the muck either. That’s not really relevant, I guess.

.

Feb. 14/21

Dear Jane,

I got flowers and chocolate from the department because I think they can sense I’ve been in a bad mood since forever. Then, there was an anonymous delivery and inside was this gorgeous chain bracelet that matches the necklace sort of. I lied and told the department it was from Pepper.

What a wretched holiday.

Yours truly.

.

Feb. 18/21

Dear Jane,

Normally, when boys get their haircut, they look ugly for a day or two after.

Not James.

He got his hair cut shorter and he looks really good. Like unbelievably good. Short hair fits him just as much as long hair does.

No other observations.

.

Feb. 25/21

Dear Jane,

It was Morgan’s birthday party today. James came in one of those brown jackets with the sheepskin wool inside and he looked so good. We mainly stayed apart to prevent any dalliance because one does not disappear from the Madame Secretary’s birthday party and the team doesn’t really know what’s happening behind the scenes except for Nat and Tony, really.

I really wanted to kiss him in front of our friends. I caught him staring a few times, and every time, the smile seemed to vanish off his face.

I’m lying in bed and it feels pretty empty.

It occurs to me that I’ve been in love for a pretty long time and I’m not even in a relationship with the guy.

Energy could’ve been devoted to so many other things and I’d hate being in love if it weren’t for the fact that it’s James.

Again, love making me sappy and all that.

.

Feb. 28/21

Dear Jane,

Jane is such a common name. Some would call it plain yet it means gift from God.

I wonder if James knew that.

.

Mar. 10/21

Dear Jane,

It’s James’ birthday. Birthday sex is a requirement and a desire. I also got him a gift which is a pair of new black Timbs. I hope he likes them. I’m excited for cake, I guess. Morgan did my makeup but I’m gonna have to wipe it off for the small little party tonight.

I think, ordinarily, I’d be in knots because it’s James’ birthday and I love him and he’s my best friend, but I just don’t know. March is fairly boring and contemplative and rainy. Work is work. Helen Cho did a presentation on her Cradle technology. Very cool.

.

Mar. 20/21

Dear Jane,

It’s raining and doesn’t feel like spring. Alpine vomited on my bed a few days ago because he’s not feeling well. James and I took him to the vet and he’s on antibiotics. Poor boy. He’s sleeping in the corner of my room right now while James is away on a mission. I think I’ll just work from my room for a bit until he’s feeling better.

Nothing much to report, which is why I didn’t write anything. The month passed by too quickly. James should be back by the end of the month. I miss him and not because of the sex. No one else who doesn’t work for me or pays me listens to me ramble on their own free will. Talking to screens just isn’t the same.

.

April 1/21

James got back really early this morning and I, by tradition, was awake. I sort of wish I wasn’t though. In true April Fool’s tradition, I made fun of him for being a day late to which he genuinely apologized. I told him to shower and get to sleep but he was in that mood where you’re so exhausted you’re wide awake.

James suggested we make really strong cocktails for each other as a celebration for an extraction mission completed successfully.

Who am I to say no to celebrating?

He really likes grapefruit juice so I made a REALLY strong Grapefruit Paloma. He made this really interesting drink that was purple and tasted like oranges and cranberries. A lot of blue curacao was in it so it was pretty bitter but it hit like a fucking truck which is probably why I didn’t understand anything he said at first.

He told me he loved me.

I think, somehow, he managed to get drunk after the Grapefruit Paloma and two more bottles of vodka. Don’t ask me how because Steve NEVER gets drunk. Maybe HYDRA-brand serum is faulty? I don’t know.

I asked if he knew what date it was. He laughed really loudly, said no, realized, stuttered apologies and then said it again.

It was the most perfect sound in the world and it was the best moment in recent history.

Or, the sickest practical joke.

Consensus not yet reached.

.

April 2/21

Dear Jane,

I asked if he remembered what happened yesterday morning.

He did not.

Sickest practical joke confirmed.

.

April 9/21

Dear Jane,

I’ve been avoiding writing because I’ve felt a whole lot of nothing. Everything is abysmal and James’ confession is all I can think about. Tony’s on my ass about slipping and he has half the mind to put me on paid leave until I get my shit together, both as the head of the department and as an agent.

Drunk words are sober thoughts, all that garbage.

I wish I could live my whole life drunk and honest. Maybe then I wouldn’t be in this situation where I’m stuck in eternal limbo with my best friend whom I’m in love with. Minus the drunk part.

Duty demands I return to this weathered journal until it’s finished so we’ll see. I might be back this month. Maybe not.

.

May 1/21

Dear Jane,

It rained a lot in April so now the flowers are blooming early. April showers bring May flowers. Guess it has some merit to it.

Limbo sucks. Its inescapable nature, its terrible facade of everything seeming fine when it really isn’t.

Of course, James still makes me smile, but nothing seems really okay when I let myself stop for a second.

I’m going out with Steve to a charity thing tomorrow. Should be a few hours worth of not thinking and free booze. Oh, and James and I made out in one of the quinjets after dinner today.

Felt weird considering we aren’t a couple, but it happened spontaneously as that is the nature of our relationship, it appears.

The cause also happens to be the cure of melancholy. Weird.

.

May 6/21

Dear Jane,

For context, it’s 5:23AM.

Went for a walk in Madison Square and then Central Park with James yesterday, although in my head it’s still today. We met up with Nat for some training at the gym. Got a bit mobbed by fans and the paps who asked if we were dating like we’re the tabloid’s biggest scoop.

We weren’t even holding hands, but I guess it’s just another reason why we shouldn’t be TOGETHER together in public.

We had another deep stuff talk again in bed after the usual business. I wanted to ask what this is between us and if he’s pursuing other options, because I’m not and I wanted to know if I should, but I also didn’t want to ruin the vibe.

He was in a good mood today, and seeing as sometimes he has nightmares, I thought it was best I don’t ruin it. He thinks I don’t notice but how do I not notice? He’s my best friend.

I kissed his cheek when he got up to leave and he kissed me goodbye on the lips.

I guess that means something.

.

May 17/21

Dear Jane,

In a moment of complete boredom, I listened to Imagine Dragons’ new album. It wasn’t too bad, to be honest, but Sharon thought it could’ve been better. Whatever.

.

May 22/21

Dear Jane,

Ran into ex-Girlfriend today. She still has that whole sunshine thing going on still. We had coffee and she asked if I got together with James yet.

I choked on my coffee and nearly died on the spot.

That’s how I learned that James apparently broke it off softly and ex-Girlfriend had, very wisely and knowingly, said that he should chase the apple of his eye before I (the apple) rotted alone and forgotten at the trunk of the tree. Or, as any sane person would say (and ex-Girlfriend DID say), get picked from the tree by another hand.

She said it was quite obvious that I was in love with James even months ago. She also thanked me for being so nice, anyway, and that it must’ve been difficult. What a fucking SAINT.

I set her up with a date with Steve because they have the same energy, honestly, and that’s going down on the 26th barring any emergencies.

Call me Cupid, but I think I just constructed the perfect match made in heaven.

Mentioned this meeting to James minus the apple detail. He asked if she was doing okay, which she was, and seemed glad for that. Between kisses and his sneaking hand beneath the covers, he also asked if there was anything else. Not really much to say on that front.

.

June 3/21

Dear Jane,

It’s starting to dry up consistently, now. It’s getting warmer, too. Sam brought me flowers and told me to at least turn the air-con on if I was gonna be stuck in the lab all day. Oh, the simplicities of summer are hopefully returning. Got out early and hung out with Morgan at the park in the evening.

It’s nice to hang out with someone so blissfully unaware with the stupidity of love. All Morgan cares about is grass and buttercups she grabs from the ground. She doesn’t have to worry about how to tell the guy she’s in love with that she loves him.

Oh, didn’t you hear? Nat said I should just buck the fuck up and tell him.

And Nat is scary when not listened to.

Much to brainstorm about.

.

June 14/21

Dear Jane,

Just here to brainstorm some ideas for future Stark Industries projects and thought I’d preface it with a small diary entry. Nothing really happened. Work’s catching up for some reason and bad guys are acting up. I’ve pulled a few all nighters, not gonna lie.

Really tired, but in a good, productive way. Haven’t thought much on the James front. Gonna have to focus on that after everything calms down.

.

June 20/21

Dear Jane,

It’s officially summer and yet today was awful with only subtle hints of being okay.

So much for simplicity.

In the evening, I read on the hammock on the balcony. No one really bothered me except James, but he’s never a bother.

Steve and ex-Girlfriend (who will now be reidentified as Girlfriend) are pretty cute, and she meshes well with the group. There’s nothing really awkward between her, James, or me, so I guess two people’s summers are going well. Bully for them.

Didn’t really eat. Was too busy working. James got me dinner. Didn’t feel right and just kept working. This whole agreement between us has been very flexible but we really need to fit in a session soon.

I’ll make it work somehow.

.

June 22/21

Dear Jane,

I got my wish and didn’t at the same time. We spent the whole day in the sheets (very blissfully relaxing) and I, stupidly and with very little sleep, let it slip.

In less elegant terms, I told him I loved him. It felt very real and genuine and very-out-of-a-movie, but his reaction was less so.

What did I say? Allergic to intimacy.

He tried to play it off as best friends and even that was uncomfortable, but I, very seriously and very foolishly, corrected him that “no, James Buchanan Barnes, I am IN LOVE with you.”

He left a few minutes ago, saying something about heading down to the gym, but I know he’s just trying to avoid me.

God, how am I so stupid?

.

June 25/21

Dear Jane,

I haven’t seen James in a few days. I thought he was avoiding me but turns out he’s out of the country. Something about protection for whatever dignitary is travelling at the end of the month. I don’t know.

I wasn’t assigned to that op so the details weren’t shared liberally. Sam just said it’d be a while during the ambassador’s entire stay. High threat level which is why the Avengers were contracted.

I just hope he stays safe. I know he probably took off to take his mind off things, but I don’t know how he’s focusing when all I can think of is those three little words.

I love you.

Seems so fake the more I hear it in my head, but his reaction was so real that I think I might’ve just irreversibly messed things up.

.

July 12/21

Dear Jane,

It’s been a hectic couple of weeks. If future me finds this with blotted words, it’s because I am indeed crying while writing this.

James was medically evac’ed last night and transferred back to New York. Helen Cho was flown in from her medical conference in Minnesota where she was showcasing the newest version of the Cradle.

There was an assasination attempt and James is fucked up bad.

Holy shit, I’m so scared. I’ve never been so scared in my life. It’s like an invisible demon has my heart in his claw-like hands and he’s squeezing with all his might. I think my heart might explode.

I just want to hold his hand but he’s so high risk no one’s allowed to see him right now.

The waiting room is too quiet. Steve’s holding on to Girlfriend’s hand so hard I think her bones are broken but she’s taking it like a champ. Nat’s pacing, slowly patting a sleeping Morgan who she’s carrying. Sam and Tony are talking about stuff.

It’s too quiet.

I’m so scared.

.

July 13/21

They got him into the Cradle. Thank God. I think I might cry some more out of relief, but he was conscious for a few minutes earlier and he’s stable now.

It’s really late at night but they extended privileges to me to stay with him so I’m just sitting here, writing. Listening to the Cradle do its thing and the monitors do theirs.

When he was conscious, I was with him. He said some stuff under his breath but the one thing I could make out was “I’m an idiot.”

Granted, he’s right. It was supposed to be Steve or Tony on that mission. You know, people with more defense op experience, but he had to go out and volunteer himself.

I feel sort of guilty.

It’s partially my fault, isn’t it?

I think I’ll try to tuck in for tonight. I wanna be awake when he wakes up, too.

.

July 14/21

Dear Jane,

James woke up today. He’s still in the Cradle (lots of internal damage spread throughout the body) but he’s conscious. He saw me and immediately tried to sit up which was sweet, but when he couldn’t, he just told me to come closer and then told me that he loved me.

I called him an idiot for running away. I told him he really scared me. I told him that I loved him so fucking much. I told him that I feel so guilty and he just held my face and said that it will never be my fault.

He’s so fucking romantic, even when he’s lying down with a wound being stitched closed live in front of my eyes.

Oh, and he kissed me. I don’t think I noticed how much I actually missed him until that moment.

I don’t know how to describe the feeling in my chest. It’s a mixture between super happy and super scared and super, super warm inside. Summer might be looking up.

.

July 18/21

Dear Jane,

We got home today. James is staying in my room. The team doesn’t say anything about it. We’re best friends, after all, but I think they’ve known for a long time that there’s something more. Some of them are just too polite to say so.

I won’t have much time to write over the next couple of days. James has to be kept on a strict, extremely healthy diet and medicine regime.

I don’t care. I’m just glad he’s home.

He’s kissing me a lot more, now. Alpine likes the fact that his two humans are now in the same room. He purrs so loudly, I can hear him from where he’s dozing, curled up underneath James’ chin. He (James) is resting after his second round of antibiotics for the day while I work from my room, and sometimes I catch myself looking back just to make sure he’s okay.

I’m going to go kiss him now.

Be right back.

.

July 21/21

Dear Jane,

It’s almost Nat’s birthday (the 26th). Super exciting. James is back on solids and I’m helping him around with walking. Even with the Cradle and the healing factor, he’s still super banged up, so it’s better safe than sorry.

We had a really long talk about love and stuff. It’s good to finally have it out in the open. It was mostly me talking about my side of things and he just nodded a lot. I know he was listening though.

We also kissed a lot, like seventeen year old couples who are heavy on the PDA, but within the privacy of my room. I dunno. I like the heat of his arms and the way he kisses the shell of my ear when he’s bored or it’s a commercial break.

It feels very natural.

I am very much in love with him.

I tell him that and he always looks skeptical, but whatever. He doesn’t have to say it back (I tell him that there’s no pressure) and he’ll get it through his thick skull eventually that he’s now stuck with me.

.

July 25/21

Dear Jane,

We made cookies in the early AM as tradition for the party tomorrow and I told him that I love him (again, but this time he didn’t run, nor has he the past few times. Fantastic).

While the cookies were baking, he explained everything on his side of the story: how he was scared to be vulnerable, how opening up to me is just different and new and scary and I get it. I really do. I know how it feels to think you don’t deserve good things and sabotage feels like the only way to save everyone from hurt.

He smiled a lot more after that. I guess he’s just glad I get it.

One day, I’ll successfully convince James that he deserves everything good this world has to offer.

Until then, I’ll just keep trying.

P.S. He said, with less hesitation than the first time, that he loves me, too. Best. Day. Ever.

P.P.S. The cookies are so good and I want to devour them all. I could barely stop James from eating all of them. Again: Best. Day. Ever.

.

July 26/21

Dear Jane,

In summary of today:

Happy birthday, Natasha.

James has been given the clear bill of health which is exciting. Also, I asked him about the Jane and gift of God thing.

He knew. “Intuition” and all that. He also said I looked “like a royal dame” in my swimsuit. Smug idiot just trying to be charming.

I love him and that’s the only reason it works.

Back to the festivities.

.

July 27/21

Dear Jane,

Good morning to you and to James who’s still in my bed at a ripe 6:23AM, fast asleep.

Progress. Now, back to sleep.

.

July 27/21

Dear Jane,

It’s now 9:49AM and James greeted me with orange juice and waffles. He said I was cute when I slept. Creep.

He also said he tried so many times to stay in my bed after, before we were like we are now, but he never could, and now he’s upset that he missed out on my cute sleeping/waking up for the day face every time he did so.

He is exceptionally cute when he’s pouting.

I think we’re officially boyfriend-girlfriend, but we’ll work out the semantics on that later. For now, it’s another summer day together. He suggested Chinese takeout for dinner because I have to go dip back into the lab later today to check on some samples.

I agreed and he kissed me in promise like it was our “thing.” I can’t stop smiling like an idiot.

Massive progress.

.

July 28/21

Dear Jane,

He told me I was the only one for him.

Also, he kissed me in front of our friends for the first time. Natasha yelled “FINALLY” and pushed us into the pool. Sam laughed and then I grabbed him and threw him into the pool. Ensuing: a water fight for the ages.

For a day: 10/10

.

July 31/21

Hey Jane,

I think I’m happy.

I’m sorry I ever doubted the effects of writing down my feelings.

James has a romantic trip to uptown planned for our first date and he said it’ll take the whole day so I thought I’d get this entry in the morning. I dunno. It’s really early and the happy thought was the first thing that came to my head.

Weird, but it’s a good weird.

See you in a bit.

[bellisperennis0]

Let It Be

Word Count: 1,272

Warning: None

A/N: This one is for anyone having a rough day/time, sending you lots of love. Some soft, caring and protective EZ for you! GIF credit to @angels-reyes​ Thank you for reading and Enjoy! ❤️

It’s a bad day.

A really bad day.

The kind of day where all you want to do is curl up under the blankets and shut the entire world out.

Waking up late was a precursor to the day’s events. Not only did you wake up 45 minutes late, you had to take a detour to get to work, spilled your coffee all over yourself when you slammed on the breaks to avoid hitting a cat, and then tripped over your own two feet in the middle of the Hospital parking lot, scrapping your hands and knees.

Worst of all, you haven’t seen EZ in four long days—a run up North taking him away from you. On your bad days, you can always count on him to be your shoulder to lean on.

But your boss scolding you in front of everyone at the nurse’s station, for the one time you are late, was the freaking cherry on top of this nightmare of a day.

Arriving home you collapse onto your bed, not bothering changing out of your work clothes or unpacking your work bag. Moving feels like too much of an effort; laying there, miserable and exhausted, all you really want is a hug and to cry it all out.

Pulling your phone out of your pocket, you text EZ, praying they are finally back and that he has his phone on.

📲 : Are you back? I really need you!

There is a pause for a couple minutes and much to your relief, EZ’s reply pops up onto your screen.

📲 : On my way!

It doesn’t take long for EZ to arrive; most likely at the Clubhouse. He rushes into your bedroom, his imagination running wild, expecting to see you injured or sick or anything that would explain the urgency of your text.

Instead, he finds you sitting up against the headboard of your bed, clutching your knees and tears streaming down your face.

EZ quickly makes his way to you, his eyes wide flooded with worry. “Are you okay? Are you hurt? What happened?”

“Were you working at the scrapyard?” you asked, noticing EZ had on his Romero Brothers uniform shirt. “I’m sorry; it’s not that big of a deal. I forgot today was your first day at the Scrapyard. I’m okay, really.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” EZ firmly replies, taking a seat in front of you. His gentle hand takes yours, warming your icy fingers up. You look down at EZ, who gazes up at you with such concern.

“You have a bad day?” he asks you, giving you a sad smile.

“It seemed to keep getting worse,” you admitted, your voice beginning to pitch and falter as you continued on. “I woke up late, spilled my coffee all over myself trying to avoid hitting a fucking cat, tripped in the parking lot on my way into the Hospital, got my ass chewed out by my boss in front of everyone. And I really fucking missed – “

“Hey, hey.” EZ cuts you off.

You stop rambling, choking back a threatening sob. “Yeah?” you look up at EZ wiping the tears from your face.

“You’re going to be okay.” EZ is so sincere, so genuine, that more tears spring into your eyes. Blinking to keep them at bay, you try to smile at him and nod. EZ continues on, “I know it feels big now, days like today always do. And I know you feel real small, I totally get that. But you’re not alone in this, I’m here with you. It is just a very shitty day. Tomorrow will be better.”

You stare at him a moment, words failing altogether, quickly being replaced by tears of both tiredness and relief. EZ responds at once, quickly scooping you up and placing you into his lap, his hand rubbing in a small circular motion on your back, holding onto you as reassuringly as he could. You close your eyes, committing to memory exactly how his fingertips felt tracing your skin, exactly the sensation of his lip pressed against your hair.

A solid cry helps you release some of that tension, as a good cry usually does.

When you feel well enough to talk again without dissolving into further tears, “EZ, I don’t want to hold you up…What about the club?”

“They’ll be fine. Bishop will understand. I’m not leaving until you feel better.” EZ’s eyes search the room and fall upon your favorite cozy sweater–his sweater–lying on top of the armchair in the corner. “You should change. Get out of those dirty clothes.”

You accept the clean, soft clothes that he hands you, starting to undress in front of him, much to his surprise. You raise an eyebrow in amusement, “Oh stop! Don’t look so shocked, it’s nothing you haven’t seen before.”

The tension of the day slipping off your shoulders with every piece of clothing you strip off and wrap yourself into the warmer layers. Getting up, EZ pulls your favorite blanket off the bed and wraps it around your shoulders, pecking a kiss onto your forehead.

“Climb into bed and put on your favorite show. I’ll be right back,” he promises as he vanishes out of the room and down the hall towards the kitchen. While you could hear EZ rummaging through your kitchen, you get cozy in bed, turning the TV onto one of your favorite comfort shows. Within a few minutes, EZ returns with a cup of hot chocolate, delicately topped with whipped cream. Just how you like it.

Handing it to you, he slides in next to you on the bed. Lifting the drink to your lips, you lean against his chest, feeling it rise and fall smoothly and consistently.

“I’m just so tired.” You softly whisper.

“Of what?” EZ asks as his hand gently strokes up and down your arm.

“Everything. Work. People. Asshole boss. Everything going to shit…”

“I wish I could tell you some Yoda-like wisdom, but I’m kind of in the same boat with everything with the club,” EZ honestly replies, “It’s a lot. I get it, believe me. You know what my mom used to tell me and Angel on our terrible days?” he continues.

“What’s that?” you ask him as you look up at him.

“Everything always turns out okay in the end. If it’s not okay, then it’s not the end.” He tells you as he looks down at you, giving you a small smile.

You studied EZ's face for a moment, all the small intricacies that you have missed before; the soft curls of his eyelashes, his thoughtful eyes that gaze at yours so attentively. Lacing your arms around his neck, you draw him close and kiss him. Your lips tingling and warm as you break the kiss after a moment, “Thank you for always being there for me, EZ.”

“I’d do anything for you, mi vida. You know that.”

“I do.” You answer, unmistakable fondness slipping into your tone. And for the first time all day, a smile pulled at your lips.

Cupping your face into his hands, EZ places soft gentle kisses all over your face, one after another until laughter lightens your heavy heart. Pausing, he presses his forehead against yours in the way that always made you feel as if you two are the only people in the entire universe. “Things will get better. They always do.” He tells you.

You smiled as you pulled him towards you once more, lips meeting, and as you melt into his kiss, you knew he was right, everything would be okay.

-xx

[celestialvoid-fanfiction]

Hot Wings and Hot Guys

Stiles works at a femboy Hooters. Officer Derek Hale just wants lunch.

 For @loveyprophet​ 

[AO3]

 “Remind me again, why do I do this?” Stiles asked, leaning on the varnished wood counter of the bar.

“Because you needed a job,” Lydia said, drying a glass and setting it aside behind the bar. “And because you have a body that rakes in the tips. Seriously, why did you hide all of that—” She gestured at Stiles’ body. “—under layers of baggy clothing for all of high school?”

“Because I was socially awkward and had no self esteem,” Stiles answered honestly.

“Well, take it from me, you had nothing to be shy about then and you sure as hell don’t have anything to be shy about now,” Lydia said, offering Stiles a sweet smile.

Stiles smiled back.

He had to admit, she was right. He had grown a lot, no longer the awkward lanky kid he used to be. He was still lean but his biceps were curved by muscles and his abs were left exposed by the crop top he wore with ‘HOOTERS’ printed across the chest in bold orange letters. His firm thighs were accentuated by the short orange shorts that hugged the curves of his butt.

What’s more, he wasn’t the clumsy, flailing, nervous mess he used to be. He still had a few accidents or bumped in to things, but he never would have thought he’d be able to balance plates and drinks on a tray the way he does now.

He turned and looked around the bar. The walls were covered in wooden panelling that matched the bar that ran along one of the walls. Behind the bar was a wall of glass bottles with colourful labels.  There were a few booths in the other side of the room and tables scattered across the open floor.

The bar was pretty quiet during lunch hours and Lydia would let Stiles sneak his textbooks into work so that he could study while it was quiet.

The bell above the door chimed, drawing Stiles back to reality.

He turned to see a young man standing by the doorway.

His raven black hair was cut short and slightly tousled and his strong jaw line was shadowed by a beard. His pale aventurine eyes were shadowed by dark circles, slightly unfocused as he stepped into the bar. He was dressed in the familiar beige uniform of the Beacon Hills Police Department, with a nameplate that read HALE, but the usual brown windcheater had been substituted for a worn black leather jacket.

Stiles stepped back from the bar and made his way over to the man, flashing a friendly smile as he greeted him. He showed him to a booth in the corner of the bar and offered him a menu.

“Thanks,” Officer Hale said quietly, glancing down at the menu for a few seconds. “Can I get a serve of original style chicken wings, a serve of smoky chicken wings and some curly fries?”

“Sure,” Stiles said, writing down the man’s order. “Would you like anything else?”

He shook his head and passed the menu back to Stiles. “That’s all, thanks.”

“No worries,” Stiles said cheerfully. “Coming right up.”

“Thank you.”

Stiles made his way back over to the bar, passing on the order. He picked up a bottle of water and a glass, balancing them onto of a tray as he carried it back to the table. He set the glass down and filled it before leaving the bottle on the table.

“Thank you,” Officer Hale said quietly, his voice drained and lethargic.

Stiles’ brow furrowed slightly in confusion as he turned away from the table and walked back to the bar. He set his tray down on the counter and turned back to look at the man.

He hadn’t so much as looked up since he walked through the door.

Stiles watched him for a moment before turning back to the bar.

One of the cooks called him over, setting the plates of food down on one of the black serving trays.

“Thanks,” Stiles said, lifting the tray and balancing it.

He carried the meal over to the booth where Officer Hale sat.

“Here you are. One serve of original chicken wings, one serve of smoky chicken wings and a late of curly fries,” Stiles said cheerfully, setting the plates down on the table.

The man straightened at the sight of the plates in front of him, like a predator spotting their prey.

“Thank you,” he said quickly, reaching for the first plate.

It looked delicious. The plate of original recipe chicken wings were fired to a golden brown, the fried breadcrumb batter crunching as he bit into it.

The curly fries were crispy and the smell of the freshly fried chips flooded the man’s senses.

The smoky chicken wings were glazed in a deep brown sauce, dripping from the wings and trickling down his fingers as he picked them up. The sauce dripped down his chin, coating his beard as he ate.

He didn’t care how uncivilised he looked; he was starving.

Slowly, the fog of hunger and fatigue began to clear from his mind.

He lifted another smoky barbecue chicken wing to his lips, biting into it as he sat back in his seat and looked around.

His eyes fell upon the waiter who stood a few meters away from him, choking on his chicken.

The young man was bent over the edge of a table as he wiped it down, his short orange shorts tightening around the curves of his firm ass.

Derek couldn’t help it; his eyes trailed down the rest of his body: his firm thighs, the curves of his legs, the moles that charted constellations across his skin like stars in the sky, the dip of his lower back.

Derek coughed as he tried to clear his throat.

The waiter seemed to notice, setting down the cloth as he turned and walked back over to Derek’s table.

“Are you okay?” Stiles asked, his dark brown eyes full of worry as he looked at the man.

Derek froze, looking up at the young man like a deer caught in the headlights. He felt his face burn bright red as he stared up at the waiter.

His dark hair was slightly tousled, his chocolate brown eyes sparkling like pools of gold as they caught the light. His skin was as pale as moonlight and a few moles were scattered across his face. He was dressed in a white crop top that stopped just before his abs and a pair of short orange shorts that accentuated his hips, thighs and butt.

He was absolutely stunning.

A moment later, he realised what he probably looked like—sauce dripping down his face, rude and uncivilised—and a feeling of dread settling in his chest.

Stiles let out a quiet chuckle, reaching for one of the napkins on the table and gently wiping away some of the sauce that dripped down Derek’s face.

“Uh, thank you,” Derek said, shaking himself out of his stupor. He cleared his throat slightly. “I’m so sorry. I can’t believe how rude I’ve been.”

“Not at all,” Stiles reassured him, offering him a kind smile.

“I just got off a twelve hour shift and I didn’t get a break, so I haven’t had anything to eat since before my shift,” Derek tried to explain. “And I’m so incredibly sorry for how rude I’ve been to you.”

“To me?” Stiles repeated back, slightly confused.

“I didn’t mean to ignore you or brush you off, and I’m sorry if I came off as rude or abrasive,” Derek explained.

“No apology needed.”

Derek bowed his head, feeling ashamed of himself.

Stiles shook it and passed Derek the napkin.

Derek cleaned himself up, wiping down his face and his sticky fingers.

“I’m Stiles,” the young man introduced himself, his face lighting up with a sweet smile.

“I’m Derek,” he replied, holding out his hand.

Stiles shook Derek’s hand. “Nice to meet you, Derek.”

Derek returned the smile.

“If you’re still hungry, Lydia makes the best caramel fudge cheesecake,” Stiles offered. “On the house.”

“That sounds delicious,” Derek said.

“I’ll bring it right over,” Stiles said, clearing away the empty plates that sat in front of Derek.

He carried them back to the kitchen, setting them down as Lydia plated up a slice of caramel fudge cheesecake.

“So…” Lydia prompted as she finished plating up the cheesecake and set it down on the black serving tray.

“So, what?” Stiles asked.

“Oh, come on, Stiles. He’s cute and he’s clearly into you.”

Stiles scoffed, screwing up his face in disbelief.

Lydia raised her hands in a mock surrender, letting the argument fall away.

Stiles picked up the serving tray and carried it out to the table. He set the cake down in front of Derek, who thanked him quietly. He returned the serving tray to the bar and continued to clean down the tables, ready for the rush of patrons that would come in a few hours.

When Derek had finished, Stiles gave him the bill.

“This may sound odd, but can we start again?”

“Why?” Stiles asked.

“Because I’d like to make a better first impression,” Derek admitted.

“Alright,” Stiles agreed.

“How does dinner sound?” Derek suggested. “Saturday?”

“I’ll have to see what I’m working.”

“You can have the day off!” Lydia shouted from the kitchen.

Stiles felt his cheeks warm with a blush. He smiled, trying to hide his embarrassment and hold back a laugh as he said, “Saturday it is.”

Derek paid his bill, leaving a very generous tip before heading towards the door.

“Derek,” Stiles called after him.

Derek stopped, turning back to Stiles.

Stiles pulled out his notepad, quickly writing something down before tearing out the page and folding it over.

“You forgot this,” Stiles said, walking over to Derek’s side and holding out the folded piece of paper.

Derek’s brow furrowed slightly in confusion as he took the piece of paper. He unfolded it, looking down at the scrawl of chicken-scratch handwriting that read Stiles, and below it was a phone number.

A soft rosy pink blush coloured Derek’s cheeks as he folded the note over again. He smiled bashfully at Stiles. “Thank you.”

Stiles smiled in return. “See you Saturday.”

Derek’s smile softened as he repeated it back, “See you Saturday.”